#smuck bastard

[2-dsimp]

Hey 2-dsmip! I saw your Villain Yandere! Diluc x Citizen! Y/N I and love it!

Can you please do a headcanon about Villain Yandere! Diluc x Citizen! Y/N?

(Bonus: Y/N is a doctor)

『Yandere Villain! Diluc Hcs』

————————///—————————//—————————————-

→ “Where do you think you’re going without me? It’s too dangerous for someone as forgiving as you. Tell me where you need to go and I’ll be your escort”

————————///—————————//————

『。It’s safe to say that you’ve got your own personal guard, who greatly gives off Doberman boyfriend energy. If you’re off on another misadventure in your daily life as a casual doctor then best believe you’ll be under Diluc’s supervision.』

『。It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just can’t help the paranoia of the mere thought of you being taken from him. The tasteless mention of it makes him sick to his stomach, setting in a nasty whirlwind of frustration, helplessness, and worry.』

『。The dark knight honestly wouldn’t know what horrors he’d commit if so much as a hair on your head was touched by someone other than him.』

————————///—————————//————

→ “Keep your distance from the crowds and stay close to me. I’ll make sure no harm comes to you… I swear it on my oath to you, my Doctor.”

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『。The villain on the run would rasp in your ear as he shepherded you towards your next client. Making sure to send death glares to any smuck who’d happen to linger their unworthy gaze upon his savior for more than 1.5 seconds.』

『。And yes he does the mental math since 1.5 seconds is all it’d take for him to unsheathe his fire blade and lop the offenders head from off their shoulders. He wants to send a crystal clear to all the lowborn scum that his doctor will and always will be off limits to the slimy likes of them.』

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→ “I really can’t take my eyes off you for even a moments notice can I? No matter who your patients may be, don’t let your guard down around them. Or else I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

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『。Dulic would scold to you in private his fiery eyes emboldened by the ugly emotions running rampant in his heart. As he can’t help but grind his ball his fists and grind his teeth. Just from seeing how happy you looked, wasting your time with any lucky bastard who you’d happen to volunteer to nurse back to health.』

『。All due to your altruistic nature of which he almost wished you’d never had. Since all it did was attract more beggars and leeches vying for your affection and attention that he deemed to be his right alone.』

『。From the moment you saved him from his own damnation. That was when you signed away all your rights to autonomy since he’d stick to you like a shadow and make sure to ward off anyone and everything daring to disturb his newfound home of which he found in you.』

[fighting-shadows]

Bones the talking cat is over at @pspsps-bones , and I may or may not add an additional character over on that blog in the form of some arcane smuck who got stuck with the sarcastic bastard :P

I'm just uncertain at the moment if I wanna use who I have in mind.

Bones is open to be dropped off with any witch, worlock or wizard unfortunate enough to get stuck with him though and be pushed into being his carer, or any none magic person he ends up with.

The premise for Bones is he was once an elf and a powerful necromancer who crossed a line he never should have crossed, so as punishment the council turned him into a cat. However he can still talk and still behaves like an elf.

[meltedhershey]

Keep Calm and Think About Candy... Perv.

Spooky Month - Paired Chara X OC

Warning(s):

This takes place in November.

Lewd references with food...

Mostly in Kevin’s view -

Implied sexual activity.

Religious Offense.

Trans-Masc character.

Painfully horny.

Gay thoughts.

Monster fucker level of simpery.

A scary amount of K’s was used.

Implied child abuse.

Excessive color coding.

plus + headcanons.

*cross-posted on ao3 and wattpad for sillies.*

-----

X-Friday--CandyClub-x

9:20 PM

--

Kevin stood at the back door, struggling to drag in multiple candy crates. He fell backward onto his ass, and he sat there for a minute or so, cursing about the crates, the lack of staff here, and his sexual urges. Kevin wasn't the only person in here. His boss hired another smuck, happy-go-lucky and such.

However, the kid wasn't listening to any of that. He wasn't listening to anything at all in fact. Thanks to that whacky ass headset he's wearing. Kevin got up from the tiled floor and dusted off his pants, he returned to the crates, finding the lightest box he can carry. He threw it on the counter and dug through the candy display for a set of pliers and a hammer. The crate was opened.

Kevin skimmed through the candy, ranging from bars, bags, and boxes. "Oh great..." The candy was sealed in holiday-themed wrapping. Kevin cringed hard at the ridiculously bright green and red striped boxes, he huffed as a mist of anxiety ran a train through his airways.

That fucking poster... He thought back on his childhood and early teens, his parents would keep up a Krampus poster over his bed while he slept. To ensure that the youngin would stay on his best behavior until the end of Christmas, even if he was past the age of nine. Kevin wasn't a problem child, his parents were only eccentric Christians, and they didn't have much to do with him. He'd get anything he wanted if he tried asking, and had a single thought of what he wanted.

Unmistakably, Kevin didn't believe in holiday mascots like that, his bubble burst before he could even pronounce "isosceles". Ma just couldn't let go of the fact that her baby boy was becoming a man. Over time Kevin would start to remember bits and pieces of his childhood. At the age of six, his grandfather told him something that he would never forget. "God is always watching you." Pappy didn't bother to clarify when and how often the infamous "Sky Daddy" would be watching the little sprout. "While I'm sleeping? When I'm taking a wiz? When I'm kissing my future wife?" Now with this fear embedded into the young lad's head, there he was... Krampus, that gorgeous bastard.

Krampus would hang around in his room for the rest of November and December. He always watched Kevin. As he would go through his normal routine as an angsty teenager... Dressing, eating, sleeping, doing homework, and masturbating. "It's just a poster, a dusty, old poster... It can't see me, it doesn't talk, and it can't see me." Kevin thought of something clever to help him over his newly formed fear! Doing the one thing he loves most. Masturbating...

It backfired tragically. Under the impression that his mother and father would be outside of the house for longer he decided to conquer his fear. Sadly, that blew up in his face... Kevin found Krampus to be attractive, and he wasn't the only person to know that. His mother and aunt barged into his room and caught him squatting over the poster, in the nude...

This resulted in him getting kicked out of the house and being forced to stay with his grandmother and grandfather. He scared his mother so badly, she was convinced he was possessed, and his father could care less about the boy. Kevin was classified as queer by his father. Ah... Memories... It's something to laugh at now. Kevin steadied his focus back on working with three things on his mind. He rubbed his hand which was once stained with bloody whip marks.

Restocking this candy, finding someone good to replace his fleshlight image, and... Scoring a date with a certain someone to prevent the repetitive process of using a fleshlight, wasting baby gravy, and dispelling Krampus permanently aka, GETTING LAID. Gross... I feel like one of those horny frat guys, only I'm not drunk off my ass with the intention to violate an innocent person.

Whatever he's thinking about, it isn't very appropriate for a workplace setting. Kevin held his jaw as he stretched his neck, eyeing the recruit hard, and marveling at his features. The newbie was the same as Kevin, only taller, and more sociable. Rarely slouched, smiled more often, and knew exactly when and what to say to the cops.

He didn't seem to remember his partner's name, Kristin was all that came up... He could’ve sworn that they preferred a different name. "Hey, Kris! You wanna sample some of this new candy before I pack it all away?" He wears braces, shouldn't be but he's chewing gum right now. I'll nag him about that later.

It's a little new, I'm not supposed to do it at all, but I ask him to sample some of the new products with me. That's just my way to control my sweet tooth, and if I get caught Kris is with me. Kris is always down to do it, he stays nice for the night, and I get something out of it. Kristin kicked around his dustpan as he swept the floor, chewing gum and humming a song with those giant yellow headphones on his head. He can't hear me... Why did it take so long for me to realize that?

"Kris!" Kristin stopped suddenly, he turned back to the grunt at the countertop with a half smile. Peeling his headset off to rest on his shoulders. "What's up, Kev?" The man smiled a little bit, tipping off his hat to scratch his hair. Kristin's eyes got wide, "You have a mullet? Awww, and that fade is so cute!" Kristin stepped to the counter, holding his broom behind him. Kevin had a hand over his face, he giggled like an idiot. "Th...thanks for noticing..." *pssst... he can't blush.*

Kevin creepily admired his co-worker Kristin from behind his counter. He grew breathless and wheezy at the very sight of the young man, watching him dance with the broomstick as he spun in a small circle. He held a damp lemon-scented towel, squeezing it on the beat with his partner's shuffling.

Kristin's fluffy loud tri-colored brown and orange hair shined in the flickering light of the candy store. Kevin couldn't stop himself from staring. Kristin turned back at him, with a half-open eye, focused completely on sweeping up dirt and plastic scraps that littered the pink/white checker-tiled floor.

Kevin's low tired eyes scanned the boy endlessly. He kept tiny notes on Kristin's details, making degrading comparisons of himself. What if I had dyed my hair like his? I'd probably give people another reason to call me the "candy boy". He thought to himself with an annoyed tone, pink or red, those were one of the colors he'd pick. He caught a peek at the double-ended mirror sitting on the end of the counter, poking at it with his fingers. It beamed on him, and Kevin jumped at his reflection. He wasn't confident when it came to his looks, he could care how little everyone cares or says something, blanking out and ignoring the word and obvious signs, he shrugged it off. Removing his hat and pointing the mirror back to himself, he sighed.

Kevin's hair is black, and can sometimes look blue in the light. Styled into a wavy shaved mullet, he kept that little pompadour with it, smothered underneath his ridiculously, yet, fitting work cap. Small strands of hair are parted into two sections that overhang, like large fangs past a set of lips or an overbite.

He's wearing his normal work attire. Blue jeans, a white buttoned t-shirt with one pink stripe on the arms of the shirt, paired with a pink long sleeve and black overshirt, sneakers too.

Kevin wasn't trying to get caught looking into his partner and down, but he couldn't help it. His skinny hourglass figure, wide hips, rounded ass, and dual-colored eyes. Kris had the features of a woman, of course, Kevin wouldn't care, that's just another reason for him to be so... He's not gonna get far, and he isn't a judgemental piece of shit. His pitch-black eyes mirrored to Kris's brown and blue eyes.

The boy's hair is styled into a simple frizzy wolf cut, and fluffy tufts of hair rest at his shoulders and the back of his neck, over his eyes acting as blunt bangs. His hair looks close to honey, minus the white streak down the fringe. Honey don't mould so we don't know what that means. Kris wears the same uniform as Kevin, only with green/striped sleeves to resemble a spearmint candy cane and black sneakers with tiny character charms on the lace loops.

Kevin doesn't blush as much as he did before. It's like his body just rejected that command. For, he has a difficult time telling apart his fondness for romantic attraction. Kristin did seem to be his type. Tall, androgynous, freckled, smooth talker, tanned, silly, kind-hearted...

Kevin lowered his hand, and moved a platter of candy at the tall boy, then pulled a napkin from his pocket forwarding it to the kid. "Oh, for me? Don't mind if I do." Kristin swiped the napkin from Kevin's hand, his fingertips grazing at the pale man's palm. He spat his wad of chewed gum into the napkin, before helping him to some candy. "What are these called? I can't see the label too well." Kevin looked at his hand. "Cackle, and Fruit Stripe." The cackle is a chocolate bar filled with nuts and cream, it wasn't very fun to Kevin. Shit, neither was the fruit stripe. It only lasted for a moment, eating six of those is equal to six minutes. If I wanted to strain my jaw, I'd practice licking 🐱 for an hour straight.

Though Kev's not a fan of chewing gum, the Cackle irked him more. He hated it, what made him hate it more was the awkward helmet at the tip, the abnormal size, and its tendency to wack people in the mouth. There was a wide variety of shapes and sizes, but that didn't make it any better.

When you have them all out at the same time, vanilla appears less intimidating than the rest. Maybe it wasn't the candy's odd shape, maybe he just hated the idea of putting something phallus shaped in his mouth. Might it be jealousy, from never experiencing the feeling for himself? The world may never know! "Ohh, those? It's been ages since I've had a Cackle." Kristin unwrapped it hastily with a giant smile, Kevin had to turn away once it was out. I swear, those things are for food fetishists. I don't know anybody who'd be willing to stick that in their mouth, and it has the nerve to spurt the second it goes in. No, thanks... "Mhmm... It's so thick and smooth, and there isn't a single bump along the shaft." He's doing this on purpose now. Kevin glanced back at Kristin, he nearly broke his jaw trying to process his shock. The candy bar was separating from his lips, partially melted and bitten in.

A disproportionate amount of cream seeped from the opening and ran down his fingers. Kristin swallowed the first bite of the candy down, now holding his tongue out and swiping it over the cream-filled nub. Kevin shivered, leaning further into the counter with crossed legs, come next by a loud thud, the candy boy fell to his knees groaning softly. He would give anything to switch places with that thing.

Kristin checked behind the counter, wiping his mouth first. "Shit! Are you okay, Kev?" Kevin stared at Kristin, more cream came down the side of his plump lips. Kevin's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he let out a moan, dropping his head in the process. "I...i'm fine... Just a leg cramp."

Q: Congratulations, Kevin... You just experienced your first hands-free orgasm, how do you feel?

A: Spiderman after No Nut November, premature, sticky, and salty...

"Oh, that's awful. Do you need me to do anything for you, Kevin?" Kristin asked sweetly. He leaned over the counter for a better look, Kevin went stiff and froze with his hands over his crotch. Kristin flinched slightly, "N-no... I'm alright, thank you." He mumbled. Kris giggled. "Whatever it is, I'll handle it." Kevin glanced at Kris, with soft brown eyes. He felt trapped, there is no way for him to stand and cover himself up.

"I can't keep hiding this... You'll laugh at me for it anyway..." Kris reached for Kevin's hand, pulling him up off the ground with ease. His eyes wandered past the belt, inciting a squeaky laugh from the boy. "Pffft... You're hard? Oh... Ohhh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize how close you were paying attention to me. I guess that's my fault." Not what I expected. Kris rubbed his head. "No, don't!"

"I insist! It's my mess." The boy got down on his knees and crawled to Kevin. "N-no... You don't have-..." Before the man could react, his trousers and briefs had been settled at his ankles. This is so taboo. Is this secretly a porno? If so, I better be getting paid for it.

"Wait, hold on... How old are you?" That's a little too late to be asking. "Hehe, you're timing is awful, but what should I expect from some mook who jizzed his pants." Kevin facepalmed, and Kristin clicked his tongue. "I'm legal silly, and that better not make you go soft."

-

Headcanons -

~~

considers thyself trans fem, *doesn’t really know how to express. represses. doesn’t mind she/her alongside standard he/him. attempts light makeup every now and then...*

Spends free time practicing oral sex. *his jaw really hurts, but it's for the ladies! et dudes and others...*

Has religious trauma. *isolation, paranoia, lack of self-esteem. often rethinks life decisions, and declares themself as an atheist but ironically delves back into Christianity, some internalized trans/homophobia. is confused about their own morals.*

Likes Rap-Metal *to some extent...*

Listens to Hip-Hop, Nu-Metal, Spanish Punk, Industrial, and Electronica.

Cries to Amy Winehouse. *repeats In My Bed, and sings the scat parts very loudly in the car...

Nearly broke hip to Teena Marie. *Tried too hard to be somebody’s Lovergirl.

Rocks unnecessarily hard to Tiny Tim. *can play the ukulele.

Hates musicals. *Little Shop of Horrors and The Wiz is the exception...*

Enjoys masturbation + does it often. *Mon - Thurs.*

Pansexual *that’s canon, lol*

Disapproves of authorities. *he’s mistakenly taken an officer’s gun.*

Had a punk “phase”, specifically Horror Punk. *disguised as Christian Punk for his mom’s sake... actually took it seriously.*

Horror Fan. *Candy Man, Dr. Giggles, Christine, Cat People, Scream, Night of the Living Dead, Carrie / Heavily despises remakes.

Vinyl Collector.

Loves Grandma.

Favourite colour is Pink. *all shades, including the bad bitch ones.*

Owns more than a fleshlight. *that’s not a typo.*

Moby Collector. *that means penis...*

Switch. *heavily depends on his mood...*

~~

[satananon]

Satan McWrath Private Investigator (Part Two)

I step out the front door of my building and grimace.  It is another cold day, the clouds hanging overhead like some kind of bad omen, warning me to watch my step on this case.  

I see you there, standing off to the side of the building, looking anxiously at your wristwatch.  

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” you admit as I approach, relief washing over your face.  

I scoff as I place my fedora on my head, “I may be considered an unsavory character up there where you are from, but I am not a liar; my word is golden.” 

I placed a hand on your back, guiding you to turn as I began to walk down the sidewalk.  

“I think we need to start by checking the places that your partner was last seen.  Work, their car, things like that.”  

You nodded as you began to walk with me, struggling to keep pace with my long strides.  

“Then, we will want to start at the pawnshop down on 32nd.”  

I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at your statement as I once again took in the richness of your clothes.  

“I mean no offense by this, but you don’t exactly look like the kind to be holing up with some pawnbroker.”  

“None taken.  My partner is an accountant, there is lots of travel involved, and Mr. Gold just happened to be yesterday’s client.”    

I pulled my notebook back out of my pocket and jotted down Gold’s name among the notes from the night before.  I was well acquainted with Mammon Gold.  He was the town swindler, known on more than one occasion to be selling stolen goods in his shop.

“Did your partner make it a habit to associate with unsavory characters?”  

“Unsavory characters?”  There was a recognizable tone of confusion in your voice. You stopped walking, causing me to follow suit and turn back to look at you,  “Mr. McWrath, if you are implying that my partner was involved in criminal activity,  I would implore you to change your approach.”  Your hands clenched into fists as you leveled a glare at me.  “What place would an accountant have in the criminal underworld?”

I took a few steps towards you, my voice serious.  “You’d be surprised the double lives some people live.”  

I wheeled around then and restarting my trek towards the pawnshop.  “Disagree with me all you want, Sweet Cheeks, but I’ve been in this business for a long time.  No one is ever who you think they are. “

With a huff, you hurried to follow behind me, your eyes practically burning holes in the back of my head, but I didn’t turn to give you another glance.  It didn’t matter if you liked me, what mattered is that I found the answers you were looking for and got paid.  After that, we could both wash our hands off each other.  

Turning the corner, a giant flashing sign came into view.  ‘Gold’s Pawnshop.’  

“This will be it.  Mind yourself.  Gold is a sneaky bastard; he will pick your pocket faster than you can say, Barbatos is your uncle.” 

You gave me a worried look. I watched as you began to tuck your valuables into the inner pockets of your jacket before you followed me inside.  

A small bell situated above the door announced our arrival, and a short man with stark white hair and tinted yellow glasses whirled to greet us.

“McWrath, you old so and so, what brings you into my shop today?”  He turned his gaze to you, and his eyebrows rose.  “Don’t tell me that you are finally done playing Sherlock and decided to settle down.”  He leans toward you and places a hand in a mock conspiratorial fashion against the side of his mouth, “Between me and you, hot stuff, he’s trading up if you are the prize.”  

I slam my hand down on the counter, startling Mammon into an upright position.  “Listen here, Gold, I am not here to play your games, we need to ask you a few questions about the accountant working in your shop a few days ago.”  

Mammon scoffed, adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his hair.  “Whatcha want with that smuck?  I don’t know nothing bout him, he did the books and left  Bam boom end of story.”  

He opened a small door that the other end of the counter and walked to the front, pulling the front door wide.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I need ya to leave; you are gonna scare away the customers with your mug.”

I strode across the room in a few short movements, picking Mammon up by the collar and pushing him against the window, his feet leaving the floor as I pushed him upward.  

“No, you listen here, and you listen good, you no good scumbag; you will give me the information that I am looking for, and you are going to give it to me now.  Otherwise, I may be tempted to truss you up and leave you up at the docks for the Peacock to find.  I hear he is dying to get his hands on you after you robbed him blind in a poker game last month.”

The color drained from Mammon’s face, and his words began to come out in stuttering blurts.  “Woah McWrath, woah.  No need to get extreme, I told you I don’t know anything.”  

He struggled against my grip but found that my grip held tight.  He looked to you with pleading eyes and slammed him against the glass once more.  

“I know you know something, Gold, you wouldn’t let just anyone touch your money.”  I brought my face in close and glared at him.  “Now, tell me what you know.”  

“Fine, fine…”  he began, “I’ll tell you what I know, but first, let me have a little dignity and put me down.”  

I lowered him to the ground and stepped back, crossing my arms.  He stood up straight, brushing the wrinkles from his clothes and looking indignant.  

“The chump was recommended to me; apparently, the work could be done under the table and real discreet like.”  He shrugged, walking back around to the counter.  “I don’t know much more about it.  Came in, did the books, and when they were done, there was a black town car waiting outside. That’s all I know.”  

I look to you, gaging your reaction.  You look surprised, leaving me to guess that this was not a part of your partner’s job that you were acquainted with.  

“You said recommended.  Who gave you the recommendation?”

Mammon blanched a bit.  “Now listen here, I told you that I would tell you what I know, I didn’t say I’d be your stool pigeon.”  

I started to pull up my sleeves, intent on threatening him again when you stepped forward.  

“Please, Mr. Gold,”  you pleaded, “ my partner is all I have left in the world.  If you could just give us this one last bit of information.”  You reached down to your wrist and unclasped the gold watch that had been hidden beneath the sleeve of your jacket.  “I would be happy to compensate you for your time.”  

Mammon’s eyes shone greedily as you held the watch out to you.  He snatched it quickly, holding it up into the light to inspect it.  Looking satisfied, he dropped it into his pocket and looked back up at us.  

“I got the recommendation from the Admiral.  You know the weird shut-in that’s holed up in the old lighthouse?  Each month I run him out the comics that get pawn off here at the store, they don’t really have much turn around, ya know, and then in return, he gives me the latest gossip from his other connections.  He’s a weird one, but his info is legit.”

I pull my notepad out and jot down a few notes before turning back to Gold.  

“We will see ourselves out.���  

I gesture towards the door and follow behind you as you begin to exit.  I hold the door as you step into the street, and just before I make my own way out, I look back to the counter.  

“Mums the word on this, Gold.  If I find out you are blabbing on us being here, I will personally hunt you down and make your regret your scummy existence.”  

With that, I pushed my way out the door to join you on the sidewalk.  

“Have you heard of this Admiral before, Mr. Mcwrath,” you ask as we begin to walk back towards my office.  

I nod, slipping my notebook and my hands into my pocket.  “He’s a well know informant around these parts, plays both sides from what I have heard, but he sounds like our next stop.  I hope you brought your swimsuit, darling, because it looks like we are heading to the beach.” Part One

[edenamador]

Don’t Romanticize Suffering

I want to universalize, the cheese

to get away from the wine 

and make it speak to everyone

openly, truthfully, in a sloppy way 

that begins tweeting, purring

so that the birds and bees can understand

so that the ants will feel free to clean up the crumbs

and the mice will be my party friends

I’m ready, to sink into the ground, caught in the trap of some mindless human, who thinks one is better than mice

a cry for help, individual? oh all of humanity is nibbling the crumbs

and everyone is crying for help these days

because we were never allowed to be babies

immediately the growing up process begins

to get away from, that feeling of pooping oneself

and giggling because some other smuck has to

deal with it, bastards, wipe it! Wipe it, and I’ll shit again, two minutes after your done wiping. . . 

just as the garbage man empties the bin the chores of the house are finished with another fucking plop of garbage testifying to the endlessness of humanity’s flows, and my mother

said, my father, was an alcoholic

that I might be inclined to follow in his shoes

can you imagine that diapered monster of myself

grinning from ear to ear, 

sipping on wine bottles in a basement filled with wine bottles

pointing a gun in some undetermined direction

causing some undetermined series of events

which, one day, leads to myself to stand in front of a mirror

asking how I differ from the neighbor who

stands in front of the mirror

before

eating, then pooping, 

a natural process which, like biological determinations

is destined to infinite repetitions

bubbles, blowing, popping

you might end up like that

but my father was not

a million things that I am

so even with the wine, the dry skin, and the general sense of despair and hopelessness 

I still find the time to imagine myself as an alcoholic baby with a death wish

[grandthorkiday]

Mob AU! “Playthings” Part 14

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

They had had to restrain Tony when the judge put Gast under house arrest. “YOU’RE LETTING HIM GO HOME TO THE FUCKING FOUR SEASONS!”

Without missing a beat the Grandmaster had quipped, “The Four Seasons? Might as well book myself a night at the Motel 6 right outside the airport!” The courthouse had erupting into laughter and the sound of cameras snapping was heard. On the steps outside, the older man had turned the questions of the reporters into a sideshow attraction, going as so far to wave and blow a kiss towards Stark and Natasha.

“Bastard,” the female ADA had growled before the press descended on them to interview them as well.

Back at their office they had several missed phone calls from Strange.

“I can’t keep him from the television! He’s watching all the coverage! And Odin’s not helping! Every TV in this god damn house is turned to watching him!”

“Well that’s your department! It’s not like I can stop the TV from covering Gast.”

“What about a gag order?!”

“We could try it.”

They failed. The Grandmaster’s lawyer was quick to argue that Gast was a public figure. With all the businesses he owned, several of which relied on his ‘personality’, denying him the press would be tantamount to stripping of his possessions and livelihood. The old judge had nodded along with the argument as Tony and Val added him to growing list of ‘on the take’.

The next day, the media blitz began. It began in the morning with calls into radio shows and a few live podcasts. Gast described his 'prison’ in detail, the 'ludicrous’ notion being under house arrest in a hotel, and promoted several events in several of his venues. “Someone has to go and tell me how it is!”

Then came the interviews.

“We’re sitting here in the penthouse suites of the Gladiator Hotel with En Dwi Gast, also known as the Grandmaster. Gast had been accused of being the ruthless leader of the Sakaar mob family. But, the entrepreneur and business mogul says there is another side to the story. What is that side of the story?”

“I am being harassed and discriminated against by the State of New York and the New York City district attorney.”

“You can’t be fucking serious?” Val said in disbelief, nearly dropping her coffee.

“Discriminated against?” the reporter asked, leaning in interest.

“I am a successful openly pansexual man in a polyamorous relationship with two other men. Who are brothers. And younger than me! I’ve upset the apple cart. The social order. It maybe 2019, but the DA and Govenor wishes it was 1819.” He spread his arms out wide and looked directly into the camera. “I’m here. I’m queer. Get used to it.”

[read more cut]

“Fuck you,” Bruce called to the TV. Turning to Tony, he asked, “You seriously can’t do anything about that?! We got a lesbian cop who’s been on this case for nine years, and not once was his sexuality mentioned! He’s a rapist, no matter his fucking orientation.”

“We could leak to the press that one of his 'boyfriends’ is his accuser.”

“That might work!”

It didn’t.

“What is your version, Thor, of how you and En met?”

“It’s sorta cliche.” The blonde went slightly pink as he chuckled.

“Nothing about you, Sweetheart, is chiche!”

“Loki and I were at a bar, and this guy buys us a few drinks. I-we keep thinking he’s buying them for both of us because he wants to bang one of us but he doesn’t want to break the other one’s heart. That’s when this old sly dog leans across the table and bold as you please ask if we want a three way.”

“With your brother?”

“Adopted brother. And it turned out to be the best nights I’ve ever had. And come to find out, not only is the guy rich-”

“Oh I have spoiled you-”

“But he’s my soulmate. Or one of my soulmates. A third of my whole.” Thor leaned against Gast’s shoulder and smiled as the older man planted a kiss to his temple.

“I am going to vomit.” Tony said shaking his head in disbelief.

“What do you say to the fact that it’s being reported that it’s Loki, your other umm…significant other…who is your accuser?”

Gast dramatically shook his head. His eyes became red and puffy, and large fat tears appeared at the corners. “I’m sorry, can I have a minute?” The reporters nodded as Thor leaned over and rubbed the older man’s back whispering sweet words right the chest microphone he had been given. There was some loud sniffing as the video cut to several pictures of the Grandmaster smiling with Thor and Loki, kissing them and cuddling with them at several of his events. “Loki,” his voice was thick with emotion, “is being manipulated and I wish he would just come home. He’s a recovering addict, and even though Thor and I have been trying to keep him clean, we’ve never dug to the root of the problem.”

“My Father was a cruel man, and while he never beat us, he took out all his emotional cruelty on Loki. He was my Father’s whipping boy for everything that went wrong. And all Loki ever wanted was his approval, even now. I can see him convincing him this is the only way to get it.”

“He’s emotionally unstable and needs constant support and medical attention, things that I doubt that the DA and State are providing.”

“Fuck YOU!” Bruce jumped again from his seat. “I mean, we can prove that he’s been in the company of a psychiatrist since nearly the first day he escaped! Let’s tell them!”

“We’d be playing into his hands,” Tony shook his head. “If we tell the press that Loki is indeed seeing a psychiatrist, we prove his point. He could turn around and say, 'Why didn’t you get Dr. Smuck who is Loki’s primary I hire doctor?’.”

“So no matter what, we look like monsters?”

Tony shrugged. The phone rang. “I’m guessing he watched?”

Strange’s voice came over the speaker. “Yeah he watched.”

“And?”

“All he said was that Thor looks well and then he left. I don’t want to be too optimistic, but I think he’s been making a lot more progress than I give him credit for.”

The press was eating out of the Grandmaster’s hands, however. Sympathetically running his interviews where hosts would shed tears as they comforted him and Thor or cutting news conferences with DA’s office short in solidarity. Odin tried to do his own sympathetic interview only to come across off as stiff and about as emotionally distant. He kept referring to Loki as his 'adopted son’ and Thor as his son’.

“I make the distinction too,” Gast told one reporter afterwards, “but I’m not the man who watched as Frigga raised them.”

Again, Loki surprised them by taking it in his stride. “Dad and I were never close, but that hardly matters. He loves me, in his own way. And I am not letting…Gast….twist that. Nothing can change that.”

If there ever were words that tempted fate…

~~~~

“Babe.”

“Hmmm?”

“The phone. Before the kids wake up.”

Val groaned but rolled over and picked up her cell. “It’s two in the god damn morning. This better be good!”

“Shhhhh,” Carol hissed, eyes still shut.

“Valkyrie Brunnhilde?”

“Yeah?”

“J. Jonah Jameson here.”

“The newspaper guy?” she yawned.

“One and the same. Just a courtesy call about the video-”

“What video?”

“The video of Thor and Loki Valhalla…I’m sorry, I thought you would know. I mean a clip of it has been live for like four hours on Pornhub.”

She bolted out of bed, gathering clothes as she went. “A video…on Pornhub?! Of Thor and Loki?!”

“Yeah…um anway, my reporters were able to get a copy a censored full version.”

“I’ll be right over to pick it up! It’ll take me-”

“Whoa now! Like I said, this is a courtesy call. We’re posting it now.”

“WHAT?!” she screamed. The twins wailed from their bedroom and Goose the cat ran from the room. Carol sat up, sensing her distress. “The hell is on this video! Who else has it?!”

“Everyone, I should think. Oh, and Pornhub has announced they’ll post the uncensored version in about….an hour or so. Don’t shoot the mess-”

Val hung up and quickly scrolled to find Bruce’s number. Before she had even pressed call, her phone rang.

“You heard?”

“Oh yeah. We’re in deep fucking shit.”

[diem-writes]

1hour ficlet batch 5 #3

Another prompt given to me by @lazyblizzarddefendor Asking for a story about 2 of my favorite people in the Yuri on Ice universe. So how could I ever refuse.  I’d write a dozen more of these, if people simply asked. :}

A Touch of Cold

The stares are maybe colder than the howling wind outside of the motel room they ended up getting stranded in. Why they are sharing is just a matter of dumb luck, and the being stranded sheer bad luck all wrapped into one unpleasant situation.

“I don't care, as I'm the youngest it's only fair if I get the bed. I know the ground is dirty but you can take the bloody chair if you think you are too good for it.” Yuri snarls out, still shivering from the melting snow that had gotten down his hoody earlier.

“I mind neither the chair nor the floor, but common rules state that if I take up either one it does mean that the bedding is mine.” His voice is forced through clenched teeth, he wishes the heating will soon start warming the room but he fears it greatly.

“The hell.” Two large green eyes stare at him in disbelief. “I've never heard of any such rule. Why should I believe you it exists?”

Seung-Gil sighs. He is only one second removed from rubbing his temples in the same way he had seen this boys coach do when they had skated together at worlds.

“It seems that my experience with Victor Nikiforov proved me right then after all. Your coach fails to teach common sense to his skaters.”

“At least my coach knows how to train winners.” The defiant flick of the chin makes Seung-Gil laugh, something that even surprises him.

“Yes you win. I am starting to think that is all you are good for.” He smiles. “My coach tries to do the same for me, maybe it is my common sense and shreds of humanity then that are preventing me from being no more than a medal hoarding pack animal.”

The hurt look on the kids face make Seung-Gil waver in his conviction for a moment.

“What do you know about me. Do you have any idea what my life is like. You just stand there being some smuck bastard thinking he knows what the hell he is saying. You know shit about me.” The tears that form in Yuri's eyes are forcefully wiped away.

“You know what. You can have the bed. It isn't the first time I slept on a cold floor without food or heat.” He steps up to Seung-Gil, nearly pressing their noses together. “And once I'm out of here I will use that memory as I've been using for the past ten years to beat you and everyone else for every medal and prize money out there, so that I will never need to do it again.”

Yuri turns ready to pull the flimsy blanket of the bed, and ignore Seung-Gil for the rest of the night. Hoping they can get out of this bloody snow blizzard the next morning. He's stopped when Seung-Gil grabs his wrist.

The dirty look on his face deepens when he sees the look of sorrow on the other face. Crap the last thing Yuri wanted was for this ass to feel pity for him. He wants to live in a world where no one will ever look at him with pity in their eyes again.

“I was unaware that you had a past like that.” He gives him a tentative smile. “Knowing that, I can only admire how you have put yourself together. My apologies for making you feel like telling.”

Yuri takes a moment to asses the situation. Maybe the look he's getting isn't pity, but guilt. Yuuri had told him that that had been what he had felt when he had heard Yuri tell Victor the truth. Guilt for making Yuri relive moments of his childhood he rather not wishes to be reminded of.

“Yakov and my grandpa have done everything in their power to make certain it's not common knowledge. I would appreciate it if you keep it to yourself.”

Seung-Gil blinks a few times before he nods. If that is all he is more than willing to give his word about it. He too has things he rather not have the press found out. So he decides to even the playing field.

“I'm terrified of women. To the point I had to move out of my family home when I was about your age as the thought of my mother's friends and their daughters was giving me hives.”

He can't blame the chuckle when he is met with a look of complete disbelief. The growl when Yuri thinks he's being made a fool off makes him even burst out in laughter.

“I'm not joking. One of the reasons I am always doing my best to avoid Sara Crispino is because whenever she gets her hands on me I have to put on this awful smelling lotion on my skin that itches like crazy.” He looks a bit bashful “It influences my skating and not in a good way either.”

“Is that why there's such a big difference between some of your performances?” Then Yuri bites his lip and looks a bit more suspicious. “If that was really the case, why is your coach a woman?”

Seung-Gil sighs. “Because she is the one I can afford once I payed for rink time, and costumes, and my skates. There are some male trainers but they are nearly twice as expensive, and they will not even consider me till I've proven to be able to bring in enough money from my skating to be worth their time.” The shrug tells Yuri all he needs to know.

“It does explain why you are so bloody rude to her all the time. I'd have an issue with a coach that is giving me hives as well.” The snort that follows the words is quickly followed by a short cough.

“Oh damn. You are cold aren't you? Why don't you take a shower, get out of those wet clothes. I'm fairly certain nobody is wanting for you to get cold.” Yuri finds himself pushed towards the doors to the bathroom attached to the room.

“And I've thought of something about the bedding. If both of us put on our spare clothes from our bags, the bed is just wide enough to let us each have a side. That way we both lie comfortable and have use of the blanket in case the rooms heating never gets up to par.”

Yuri looks from Seung-Gil to the bed. Sure he's slept on worse, even shared a bed with his grandfather for a while before he started to make enough money to get noticed by sponsors. It would be the best solution. So he gives a quick nod to agree, grabs his bag, and slips into the bathroom.

After taking a quick wash down with one of the towels because the water of the shower never managed to become more than some lukewarm drizzle, he snuggles into his favorite longsleeve shirt, and biggest hoody. Putting his training pants over one of his dancing leggings, hoping that will keep him warm. He walks back into the room to find Seung-Gil already passed out at one side of the bed, maybe wearing even more layers than him.

'Ha' Yuri thinks, off course he went for this solution, if a Russian like Yuri is already cold there is no way that somebody that comes from a country with far more agreeable temperature isn't freezing to the core.

It takes some tossing and turning for Yuri to decide that the mattress is not one meant to give comfort to whomever is on it. He looks at Seung-Gil and notices that once the guy relaxes he doesn't look half as put off as he normally does.

Yuri's fingers softly caress his eyebrows, coming to the conclusion that they are what give the normal stern look. When two eyes flutter open a bit he pulls back his hand, only to realize that Seung-Gil hasn't really woken up. The eyes slowly close again, and Yuri finds himself lying there for a long while wondering if he was shocked or amazed at the soft look they had had.

When Victor manages to get a spare key for their room after they do not respond on his or Yuuri's knocking he is surprised to find the two young men completely wrapped in each others arms, dead to the world, with the softest smiles on their faces.

Knowing this is the calmest Yuri has been in ages he and Yuuri slowly slip back out of the room and decide to brace the storm a bit to go to the nearby diner and get them all some breakfast. It will be early enough to wake them once they can do it with fresh sandwiches and something to drink.

If you like this story or any of the other 1 hour ficlets, please consider sending in a prompt to get one for yourself.

buy me a ko-fi

[awakeningofthedeath]

Awakening of the Death-Chapter #4

Never in all of his life did he felt unexpectedly surprised. Not at the fact that there are some illegal fighting rings in the Irish district of New York City; but the founding fact that Hellen was preparing to fight in the ring. He had seen her without her robes before, but he noticed new details upon her body. There were small circular scars that were white with age at the base of the neck. There were other scars of various lengths and sizes that seemed faded. The wound on  Hellen’s arm had healed up nicely, even at the cost of days of Hellen’s nightly shots of her whiskey. Hellen finished braiding her hair and pulled out a set of old wraps from the pocket of her robes. As Hellen struggled to wrap the wraps on her arm, Jack came over to Hellen, and without a word wrapped each of Hellen’s hands. 

As Hellen was about to thank Jack, a large mussel bound man with a cigar in his mouth approached to them. His blond musquash was stained with the floating cigar smoke and ashes. “So...the little street mouse has returned for another round.” He then looked to Jack, who was glaring at him suspiciously. The man inhaled his cigar, the tip embers glowed as he breathed deep, then exhaled the smoke towards them. “Who’s the Cinderella here? Haven’t seen him around. Looks more British to me.” The man’s thick Scottish accent increased in dialect as if sending the message of uncertainty towards Jack.

Hellen raised a hand as in a “hold your fire” command. She pulled a small roll of paper money and placed it into the Scottish man’s hands. “He and I are entering.”

He counted the money with a sausage finger counted the money. “You against each other?”

Jack was about to abject when Hellen replied, “Not unless he and I are the finalists.”

The Scottish man looked at Jack and smiled. “Seems that this match is going to be interesting. You’ve fought in a ring before boy?”

Jack nodded. “I had my taste of blood in the rings. Yes”

“Excellent!” He reached towards a crate a grabbed a rolled up bunch of wraps. “You better use theses boy. And for Hell’s fire coals take off that coat. I’m sweating more looking at you before my first fight of the day.” He looked at Hellen again and smirked. “Best of luck to you street mouse. You and Cinderella there must be damn good to invest all this.” He then handed the money to the book keeper and headed towards one corner of the ring. 

Jack wanted to ask what he meant, but he decided not to answer. He unbuttoned his belt and his coat. He placed his coat on top of Hellen’s robes. He then started to wrap his own hands, preparing himself mentally to fight in the ring.

At this time, Hellen couldn’t help but noticed Jack’s bared chest. She had seen many half naked men before, most of them in the rings or the outlaws in Jame’s gang when a hot humid day would be overbearing. She noticed that there was a long white scar on the upper right chest/shoulder area. She noticed how hard each of his mussels were. Jack was finishing wrapping his hands when he turned to see what Hellen must of guessed she had been staring at him. Hellen snapped herself back to her senses and walked towards the ring, he cheeks felt warm. What the Hell is wrong with you Hellen? You’ve seen half naked men before, he’s no different. He’s...he’s...

“Gather round ladies bucks! We have ourselves a fighting day that will guarantee to never bore us!” The ring leader’s voice interrupted Hellen’s thought as the fight was about to start. She spat upon the ground, and checked her hair tie to see if the braid was secure.

“You know men would play dirty by pulling it, right?” Jack asked from behind. He was stretching his massive arms out and above his head.

“Yes I know. That’s the idea behind it, to give the fools a white lie of an opportunity. And then...” Hellen stopped and smirked a light laugh.

“What?” Jack tilted his head in confusion.

“I shouldn’t be telling you my secrets. You and I may fight each other some point. I was close to being the idiot of the day!”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t call yourself an idiot. It’s good to have a plan for this type of fight.”

Hellen nodded and both watched the first five sets of opponents beating the blood and sweat off of each other. The Scottish man they’d encountered had proved to be a great deal to face when either Jack or Hellen make it to the finalists. Whist they fought, Jack took the opportunity to ask, “Why did that man kept calling you a street mouse?”

Hellen scoffed and placed a hand on her eyes. “He calls me that because at one point I sneezed, and if you ever heard me sneeze, it squeaks like a mouse. Ever since Scotty there heard me before a fight, he always called me a street mouse. When I opposed, he would reply ‘Better that then calling you a rat or bitch then lassie.’ So yes, I suppose it could’ve been hell of a lot worse.” 

Jack nodded. “I was only known as Jack the Lad all my life. I never knew any sir names from my mot...”

“HOLY MARY! The Scottish Goliath has taken down the sly one!” Jack and Hellen turned to see one of the fighters laying upon the blood stained street ally coughing out chunks of blood. Two men took him by the arms upon their shoulders and dragged him out. “And next into the ring facing this running champion is our very own lady of the streets. The formal madame of a place where she still managed to guard her secrete honor. The one I only pray that a man be a brave bastard to fall for this one. May I present to you, facing out running champion, Hellen Patterson!”

As Hellen jumped into the ring, Jack questioned, “Madame?”

Hellen turned and said, “Long story, but will probably tell you soon.” She went to the center of the arena facing the massive Scottish fighter, who smelled of cheap tobacco. Hellen smirked and said, “Where you find such a week batch Scotty? My cigarettes have more bite then that piece of shite I’m smelling.”

The Scottish’s face turned red from the insult.“Watch it street mouse! I can be more harder on you, perhaps knocking out all those pretty teeth out of your...”

“ALRIGHT! ALIGHT!” The ring master steps between the two opponents. “Let’s not cause a fight before the fight shall we? I will be brief for you both. I expect a good clean fight from all of you. And you sir, I suggest you not damage this girl too much, or you’d be facing her suitor there with a vengeance.” He pointed his eyes towards Jack. 

Before Hellen could object about Jack being a suitor, he then steps back and yells, “Let the match begin!” He backed out of the middle with such speed as the Scottish man thew a fist towards Hellen, she dodged the first one, and he tried to reach for the long pony tail that moved all around like a cat’s tail playing for a toy. She managed to throw a punch underneath the large Scottish man’s pointed. Hellen then felt the man’s arm punching her in the gut. Both struggled to remain standing, but never ceased to collapse to the floor. Then, Hellen saw the moment of weakness. She noticed a fresh wound on the man’s side that not even he noticed. Possibly from another opponent right from the beginning. She charged towards him, and threw a side kicks on the lower left side where a wound the size of a peach showed itself. The Scottish man screamed with shock as he got to one knee. But as Hellen was about to strike again, he grabbed her shirt and rammed his head upon her forehead. A split of blood trailed down from her forehead.

Jack gripped his rage. How could a man fight low as to grab a woman’s shirt and ram her head.

“Thats below the belt there!” A man shouted.

“Really?” Another man yelled. “I’m as surprised he didn’t get to see what was in front of his face. Those breasts sure be...”

“SHUT IT!” Jack turned and yelled at the man. The individual stood in fear as he stared at Jack’s angry domineer. 

As Jack was about to step over towards the spectator, he head a crowd cheering. He turned to see Hellen throwing a kick on the Scottish man’s bleeding side and ramming at the back base of his neck with an elbow. The man was out cold. 

“Unbelievable! Miss. Patterson had managed to knock down a reining champ a single blow!” the announcer took Hellen’s hand and lifted her arm in the air for victory. The crowd cheered. Many of the man whistling and howling in admiration. Jack stood with great curiosity. 

Over the course, Jack himself fought a few of the following men. He came out with only a few punches, but enough to cause some significant damages to his opponent. Including the one fighter who commented on Hellen’s breasts. He came out of the ring with a broken nose and busted rib.

Finally, it came down to the final two: Jack and Hellen. 

Hellen herself had a few to fight off as well, and managed to hold herself well in the ring. She was covered with blood that wasn’t her own, yet some cuts and bruises were present. She and Jack faced each other. She noticed the man in front of her was covered with sweat and dust with little blood upon him. His demeanor was strong, yet she noticed in his eyes that they seemed to be apprehensive. The ring leader gave the rules and demanded a clean match. Before the leader stepped aside, Hellen uttered, “If you go easy on me, I’ll be pusy.”

“Let the battle for the prize begin!” The announcer cried out as he backed out. 

Hellen threw the first punch and it landed upon Jack’s chin. He scrambled in surprise, and placed a finger to see blood trickling down his lip.

“COME ON YOU BASTARD! FIGHT THE GIRL!”

“GIVE HER WHAT SHE’D CAME FOR!”

“ARE YOU A MAN OR A SMUCK! FIGHT!”

The crowd roars in a mixture of Protest or encouragement while others encouraged Hellen. Jack then dodged another punch from Hellen as she kept on attacking him. He would block, dodge, and avoid every attack if possible. Yet Hellen seems to always give him the harder ends. She then came from behind and with her arm gave a chock hold, while pinning his dominant hand with the other. 

“Damn it Jack! I told you don’t hold back on me!” Hellen growled as she tightened around, causing him to groan. “I know you can fight better then this, I’ve seen it before...”

But Jack couldn’t hear the rest of what Hellen was saying. His vision suddenly changed to a dark dampened space. He felt his neck being held back by a nurse as the doctors in the hell of an asylum started to place treatments that he himself couldn’t recall.

The boy needed the strength. 

To be free. 

To fight back.

He broke away from the grip and grabbed the arm that held him in tacked. And he knew it was time to fight back.

Hellen landed on her shoulders with a thump, the sand scrapped her bare shoulder. She got up and faced Jack. His eyes seemed distant and clouded. As if a wounded dog preparing to attach. He then lunged towards Hellen and began to attack. Hellen dodged over every blow he threw at her. She lost her footing and one point, but rolled away intimate before his punch meet the floor.

“ABOUT DAMN TIME!”

“COME ON LASS!”

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Hellen breathed hard, sweat trailed down the dust and blood. Then as she tried to defend again, her world went still when a great force came to the side of her head. Hellen laid on the ground, stunned, her lung tried hard to restart after the massive impact. She then got herself up and coughed out a mass of blood. She knew that this man, Jack, was more then she could take. Thank God he’s on my side. She’d thought as her breathing came back hard with a bit of a cough. She rolled over, and gestured to the ringleader the signal of surrender. As Hellen got herself up, she said to Jack, “Damn Jack. What a punch! Haven’t felt that punch that hard since a draft kicked me once.”

Jack couldn’t hear anything, his mind had cleared; yet he was shocked at what he just witnessed. Instead of the nurse bleeding on the sand floor, Hellen laid on her side, blood coming from her cheek and mouth. Jack’s heart pounded with fear.

Hell no!

Not now!

Not again!

Did I killed her?

His eyes shifted when he heard Hellen coughing. She was spitting out her own blood and tried lifted herself off from the floor. He ran towards her and lifted her up as she insured herself that she was alright. He couldn’t hear the rest of the words. He pushed himself through the crowd as the gathered around Hellen to check on Hellen. He shoved a few men who tried to give him a bath of money. He grabbed his coat off the coat, then started to run past the streets.

Hellen watched with confusion and questions. What the Hell happened to him?

When Hellen excepted the money on behalf of Jack, and her wounds were treated by a medical nurse on the stand by, she set off into the streets to find Jack.

She searched through the streets for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until she finally used her ability to find Jack’s tracks. To which Hellen realized that words were trailed. As she followed, the unknown stains trailed in the walls.

Monster

murder?

Why?

Why Hellen?

She followed the trail to the apartment they shared. She found a pile of bloody bandages at the base of the building outside. She looked up and her instincts made her started to climb.

Well pa, guess it’s time Jack and I have a before Jesus talk. Hope all the talks you gave me all those years help me out now. How would...Hellen sighed as she climbed up the roof, and saw Jack sitting against the roof shingles, staring upon the city. Here goes nothing Pa.

[thesepeopleproject]

These people on the left needs to start getting prosecuted. The first example i would use to get my message across is by prosecuting Kerry.. That smuck face bastard!

— Marc J Thorn🇺🇸 (@MarcThorn4) September 16, 2018

[smokefollowsbeauty]

Happy Valentine’s Day

Fuck you you Fucking Asshole piece of broken down shit family manure lying sack of lies son of a bitch cunt offputting WHO’RE. Smug bastard. You make my skin crawl, you’ve made me feel uncomfortable in my own ‘meatbag’ and brought back horrible ptsd tendencies. You don’t care though. Fuck you, fuck off you goddamning HellFuckBoy. You just wanted to swallow me whole and 'give me the world’ right? You’re an disgusting smuck. I don’t want to be in the house with you anymore.

For all that we’ve been through I don’t think I should have to repeat myself. Regarding life choices, memories, habits, tendencies or short comings. But you don’t fucking get it. I don’t fucking get it. I gave it up for you. Every time. I’m as much of a deliquent child as you are. I hate myself for loving you, at the same time I feel Guilty for it.

I don’t know where the fuck you get off. You have one job. And that’s not making me look like a fool. You’re not down for this? I don’t want people to think you come even Close to getting this. Show up when you say you’re going to show up, on my fucking time. I deserve that. God I’m so glad you don’t have keys here anhnkre. I never want to walk in on you jacking off or just being in my space again.

You’re finally lighting up and it makes me angry. I have high standards. I always have. The way You are has nothing to do with me. I don’t deserve to be fucking stood up. You’re a fucking dickwad I don’t know what i ever saw in you or why i still try to

You’ve hurt me Multiple times and to feel like I have to repeat that is fucking nonsense. Insanity even. I hate you. I put my heart and soul into this. I shouldn’t look back, don’t fucking let me.

I’ll say whatever I have to to make you actually do it. Just go. Stay gone.

[go-rayjaysworld-blog]

As I'm getting older and now that I'm making good money again I'm trying to be more wise with my money especially when it comes to dating. From now on it's coffee on this first meet up. I have spent alot of money on bimbos over the years that tell me " Ohhh I don't drink coffee at night"! Then I guess we're not meeting? Let some other smuck take you out and spend his money on you! I don't care if you think I'm being a cheap bastard but if I plan on being a gentleman and pay for our tab and your ass is sipping $12 doll Margaritas like they are going out of style then all the sudden that tab is $127 and I get that stupid excuse of "I don't kiss on the first date" bullshit, not to mention I don't hear from you again??? Well that's me just being stupid! From now on I'm gonna get the most value for my $8 dolls on both of our coffee's. Maybe we can hit it off, makeout or maybe as an added bonus I can get you to come back to Lovenest so we can play "Old Abe Lincoln visits the Oval Office"? It usually works with some reverse psychology " If your coming over, then we're just watching Netflix ok? No fondeling". Yeah Right! $8 dolls went the distance and I got the most "Bang for my buck" (No pun intended)Lol!......and if I don't hear from you again......Well by then it doesn't matter anymore considering you fired yourself. You got rid of yourself before I got sick of you making my job much easier. On to the next..........

[go-rayjaysworld-blog]

As I'm getting older and now that I'm making good money again I'm trying to be more wise with my money especially when it comes to dating. From now on it's coffee on this first meet up. I have spent alot of money on bimbos over the years that tell me " Ohhh I don't drink coffee at night"! Then I guess we're not meeting? Let some other smuck take you out and spend his money on you! I don't care if you think I'm being a cheap bastard but if I plan on being a gentleman and pay for our tab and your ass is sipping $12 doll Margaritas like they are going out of style then all the sudden that tab is $127 and I get that stupid excuse of "I don't kiss on the first date" bullshit, not to mention I don't hear from you again??? Well that's me just being stupid! From now on I'm gonna get the most value for my $8 dolls on both of our coffee's. Maybe we can hit it off, makeout or maybe as an added bonus I can get you to come back to Lovenest so we can play "Old Abe Lincoln visits the Oval Office"? It usually works with some reverse psychology " If your coming over, then we're just watching Netflix ok? No fondeling". Yeah Right! $8 dolls went the distance and I got the most "Bang for my buck" (No pun intended)Lol!......and if I don't hear from you again......Well by then it doesn't matter anymore considering you fired yourself. You got rid of yourself before I got sick of you making my job much easier. On to the next..........