Hello! I'm Sirbonesly, but you can call me Victor, Bonesly, Bones, pup, whatever you want!
I'm 20 years old, in college with a full time job, and I like to write. I also watch Formula 1 (let's go Carlos and Hülkenburg) and I'm in a whole bunch of fandoms
My writing blog is @boner-thoughts so make sure to check that out for my writing. This blog is my og, and it's basically a dump blog for everything I like. My writing blog will be a secluded area for only writing.
Like a bug burrowing, tiny legs scuttling across his skull.
No matter what he does, he can’t shake it. Whiskey doesn’t burn it out. The gym doesn’t sweat it out. Sleeping pills don’t drown it in dreams or nightmares.
He can’t find a fix.
Until he does.
He finds her in the candy aisle, grubby little paws rooting around in a box of gummy worms, pulling plastic packages free with a crinkle and trying to rip them open. Bundled up from head to toe, winter boots, winter hat, even little gloves on strings around her wrists. No parent in sight.
Odd.
Where are her parents?
He waits. He watches. No one appears, and he’s not going to leave a toddler alone in a grocery aisle.
She doesn’t even notice when he approaches, not until he’s squatting down beside her, tapping her on her shoulder. “What’re you doing?” Her eyes go wide, mouth dropping open, caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Gummies.” She points.
“Where are your parents?” She shrugs, returns to her pillaging. “What’s your name?”
“Nori.” She hands him a plastic package, obscenely pink and filled with squishy candy. “Open please.”
“Are you allowed to have candy?” She nods, peering at him with a frown.
“Open my candy.” Little dictator.
“Is your mum here? Or dad?” She sighs impatiently, and he has to swallow his laugh.
“No dad, just mum. Please.” She points at the bag, and he shakes his head.
“If you show me where your mum is, I’ll open this for you.” She huffs, but then immediately books it, surprising him with how fast her chubby little legs can run.
Once she rounds the aisle, it’s not hard to find you, and she tucks her tiny hand into his.
“Mum.” She points at the same time you spin around, your face filling with relief, cheeks wet with tears.
The itch ceases. Complete vanishes. Maybe this is what he needed all along.
A family of his own.
You go to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around the kid and holding her to your chest, cupping the back of her head.
“You’re supposed to stay with me, Nori. You c-can’t do that. You can’t walk away from me.” You’re worked up, it’s painfully obvious, wearing it all over your face like a god damn broadcast.
He only pays attention to it for a moment, before becoming blindingly distracted by your fat arse, hugged by a pair of black leggings, cheeks folded into thighs. If you fell backward, you’d probably bounce. No wonder you have a kid, he muses, you’re perfect for breeding.
“Found her in the candy aisle, destroying a box of gummies.” You sniffle and shake your head.
“Nori,” your shoulders slump, tired, exasperated. “You can’t just run off anytime you want something. What if something happened and I wasn’t there?”
“He was.” She points at Simon and shrugs, the nonchalance pulling his lips into a surprising smile.
“Thank you again. I swear I let go of her hand for one minute and this is what happens.”
“It’s no problem.” He gives you another nod and turns away, heading in the opposite direction to pick his basket up and continue his shopping.
For now.
It’s easy to spot you in the parking lot. Nori is trotting along beside you and the buggy, holding tight to your hand until you get her situated in her car seat and turn back to your purchases, loading them in the back.
Wait.
He loathes having to leave his own car here, but sacrifices have to be made.
You lock the car before you walk the buggy to the corral, keys fisted in your hand.
Wait.
He stands between the vehicles next to your car, hood pulled over his head. The locks unclick, you pull the door open and slide behind the wheel, gripping the handle to pull it shut-
Just as he grabs the corner of the door.
“What the fu-“
“Slide over.” He rubs your shoulder with just enough pressure, trying to encourage you to listen, instead of fighting. You stare at him, shocked. Confused. Trying to catch up.
“What the he- heck are you doing?”
“Don’t make this difficult, sweetheart. Slide over now.” He can see the scream building in your throat, big palm snapping out to cover your mouth, leaning down into your face. “Don’t make it harder for you, or Nori, love.” You’re trembling, but Nori is surprisingly calm, watching with expressive interest.
“Gummies?” She holds out her hand, eyeing the bag in his pocket, and he smiles.
“Yeah honey, I got your gummies.”
“P-please, don’t… don’t hurt us. Please.” Nori’s eyebrows crease, picking up on your distress, and he pats your hip soothingly. He doesn’t want to upset you too much, knowing how hard the adjustment will be for everyone in the coming weeks. Better to start off with cool heads, as calm as you can manage.
“Everything’s alright baby girl, your mum just needs help driving home is all.”
“Yep.” You glance at her in the rear-view mirror with a shaky smile as he nods encouragingly. Last resort is flashing the gun, but it’s not how he wants to start off with his wife and baby. As you scooch, he slides in after, pulling the door shut firmly and moving the driver’s seat back to accommodate his legs.
“Phone.” He gestures to the device cutting into your hand, the one you’re trying to trigger an SOS with, and when you don’t relinquish it immediately, he snags it from between your fingers with a sigh, handing you his instead. “Put your address in.”
“I… you c-can’t…“ He palms the back of your neck.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he murmurs, his thumb moving in circles against your skin, “it’s alright. Just put the address in, we’ll talk about everything once we get home.”
“Once we get home?” The engine turns over, and he peeks over the seat at Nori.
“What do you think about chicken nuggets for dinner?” She squeals, kicks her feet.
“Yeah! Nuggets!” You close your eyes.
“Sound good, mum?” You stare straight ahead, shell shocked, voice barely a whisper as you nod.
Like a bug burrowing, tiny legs scuttling across his skull.
No matter what he does, he can’t shake it. Whiskey doesn’t burn it out. The gym doesn’t sweat it out. Sleeping pills don’t drown it in dreams or nightmares.
He can’t find a fix.
Until he does.
He finds her in the candy aisle, grubby little paws rooting around in a box of gummy worms, pulling plastic packages free with a crinkle and trying to rip them open. Bundled up from head to toe, winter boots, winter hat, even little gloves on strings around her wrists. No parent in sight.
Odd.
Where are her parents?
He waits. He watches. No one appears, and he’s not going to leave a toddler alone in a grocery aisle.
She doesn’t even notice when he approaches, not until he’s squatting down beside her, tapping her on her shoulder. “What’re you doing?” Her eyes go wide, mouth dropping open, caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Gummies.” She points.
“Where are your parents?” She shrugs, returns to her pillaging. “What’s your name?”
“Nori.” She hands him a plastic package, obscenely pink and filled with squishy candy. “Open please.”
“Are you allowed to have candy?” She nods, peering at him with a frown.
“Open my candy.” Little dictator.
“Is your mum here? Or dad?” She sighs impatiently, and he has to swallow his laugh.
“No dad, just mum. Please.” She points at the bag, and he shakes his head.
“If you show me where your mum is, I’ll open this for you.” She huffs, but then immediately books it, surprising him with how fast her chubby little legs can run.
Once she rounds the aisle, it’s not hard to find you, and she tucks her tiny hand into his.
“Mum.” She points at the same time you spin around, your face filling with relief, cheeks wet with tears.
The itch ceases. Complete vanishes. Maybe this is what he needed all along.
A family of his own.
You go to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around the kid and holding her to your chest, cupping the back of her head.
“You’re supposed to stay with me, Nori. You c-can’t do that. You can’t walk away from me.” You’re worked up, it’s painfully obvious, wearing it all over your face like a god damn broadcast.
He only pays attention to it for a moment, before becoming blindingly distracted by your fat arse, hugged by a pair of black leggings, cheeks folded into thighs. If you fell backward, you’d probably bounce. No wonder you have a kid, he muses, you’re perfect for breeding.
“Found her in the candy aisle, destroying a box of gummies.” You sniffle and shake your head.
“Nori,” your shoulders slump, tired, exasperated. “You can’t just run off anytime you want something. What if something happened and I wasn’t there?”
“He was.” She points at Simon and shrugs, the nonchalance pulling his lips into a surprising smile.
“Thank you again. I swear I let go of her hand for one minute and this is what happens.”
“It’s no problem.” He gives you another nod and turns away, heading in the opposite direction to pick his basket up and continue his shopping.
For now.
It’s easy to spot you in the parking lot. Nori is trotting along beside you and the buggy, holding tight to your hand until you get her situated in her car seat and turn back to your purchases, loading them in the back.
Wait.
He loathes having to leave his own car here, but sacrifices have to be made.
You lock the car before you walk the buggy to the corral, keys fisted in your hand.
Wait.
He stands between the vehicles next to your car, hood pulled over his head. The locks unclick, you pull the door open and slide behind the wheel, gripping the handle to pull it shut-
Just as he grabs the corner of the door.
“What the fu-“
“Slide over.” He rubs your shoulder with just enough pressure, trying to encourage you to listen, instead of fighting. You stare at him, shocked. Confused. Trying to catch up.
“What the he- heck are you doing?”
“Don’t make this difficult, sweetheart. Slide over now.” He can see the scream building in your throat, big palm snapping out to cover your mouth, leaning down into your face. “Don’t make it harder for you, or Nori, love.” You’re trembling, but Nori is surprisingly calm, watching with expressive interest.
“Gummies?” She holds out her hand, eyeing the bag in his pocket, and he smiles.
“Yeah honey, I got your gummies.”
“P-please, don’t… don’t hurt us. Please.” Nori’s eyebrows crease, picking up on your distress, and he pats your hip soothingly. He doesn’t want to upset you too much, knowing how hard the adjustment will be for everyone in the coming weeks. Better to start off with cool heads, as calm as you can manage.
“Everything’s alright baby girl, your mum just needs help driving home is all.”
“Yep.” You glance at her in the rear-view mirror with a shaky smile as he nods encouragingly. Last resort is flashing the gun, but it’s not how he wants to start off with his wife and baby. As you scooch, he slides in after, pulling the door shut firmly and moving the driver’s seat back to accommodate his legs.
“Phone.” He gestures to the device cutting into your hand, the one you’re trying to trigger an SOS with, and when you don’t relinquish it immediately, he snags it from between your fingers with a sigh, handing you his instead. “Put your address in.”
“I… you c-can’t…“ He palms the back of your neck.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he murmurs, his thumb moving in circles against your skin, “it’s alright. Just put the address in, we’ll talk about everything once we get home.”
“Once we get home?” The engine turns over, and he peeks over the seat at Nori.
“What do you think about chicken nuggets for dinner?” She squeals, kicks her feet.
“Yeah! Nuggets!” You close your eyes.
“Sound good, mum?” You stare straight ahead, shell shocked, voice barely a whisper as you nod.
It makes sense that dog organs can’t be used inside people, because their organs are weird and no good. But in my opinion, our organs should work inside them, because our kidneys and livers and stuff are straight up normal as hell and good
Put this picture in your pocket, next time you get into an argument with someone about 'useless' scientific studies, ask them "Do you think that we should give funding to study the mating habits of endangered iguanas in the Sonoran desert, or should we be funding cures for alzheimer's and diabetes?" and then when they say "Of course we should be using that money to fund cures!" you can whip out this picture and say "trick question, it's the same thing"
there will never be anything as funny as the mutual disbelief between long form and short form fic writers about each other's style.
short form writers look at people writing 100k+ fics as though this is some sort of talent given as part of a fae bargain, that the commitment required shows some sort of ungodly mental fortitude.
meanwhile long form writers look at people writing 1000 word one shots like god I would cut off my left nipple to be able to say anything concisely. i would love to play with multiple ideas. free me from the shackles of this child I have birthed. i love them but I now must take them to t-ball and doctor's appointments and they're going to destroy everything I own.
this dipshit kid @ the lair improvement store is telling me they dont carry Dark Harbinger Blue but i literally scryed it online like do not tempt my wrath right now
its rlly funny whenever i start getting racist messages after talking about literally anything related to antiblackness esp when its on anon and by funny i mean extremely predictable
Simon knows his own reputation; it's something he looks on proudly.
He's not untouchable, nor is he ill-tempered. But he never corrects anything he hears about himself, no matter how outlandish or violent the stories are. Something about never interrupting your enemy when they make a mistake.
He's aware of the belief that he's held on a short leash by his captain, only without the man, does he realise no one had considered what sort of man it takes to acquire the hold of that leash.
For all Ghost is scary, Captain Price is terrifying. Without the Captain, Price has no boundaries, no limits, and no one by his side to consider before he acts.
The widespread assumption was that the Captain was the man to rein him in; that's exactly why he's the man to subdue John when he goes off the deep end.
Simon hates him, with a complexity that most can't understand. He knows Price; he knows the frustration of a man told to stick to the book and follow orders from men who sit behind desks and twiddle their thumbs. He knows John; he knows the ache of a man whose knees have taken the brunt of his falls and the man who needs to be drawn out of his own head by someone he trusts with his wrists pinned and his legs spread.
But he wasn't the only one who lost a team member; he isn't the one being scrutinised for the actions of a man unhinged. He doesn't seem to care for those he left in his wake, who mistakenly thought him a man they could rely on.
So, he'll engage in a game of predator on predator to see who has the bigger bite.
Frank Castle aka The Punisher whos been coming to the same diner every morning for months now, you were always behind the counter always smiling, always positive, always kind. It didn't matter how rude the customer or how tired you were, you always treated everyone kindly.
That day it was Frank, an old couple, some college students, a truck driver, and a man at the counter, everyone minding their business but Frank immediately picked up on your unease, trying to keep your happy mask on but it wouldn't stick, you kept glancing at the man at the counter.
Just as you served Frank his usual, the man pulled a gun out. You saw it before Frank.
"Get down!" You shouted to everyone else. Frank saw the man aim straight for Frank's head. Then Frank felt it, warm arms around him, you had pulled him down with you, covering his head, defending him with your body. The shot went right into your shoulder.
The truck driver dove for the man, disarming the man, police pulled up soon after, the scene was over in a matter of minutes.
You finally elt go of Frank, checking him for wounds.
"Did- did he hit you?" You asked worryingly
Frank watched the blood stain your white top a deep red he knew well.
"You shouldn't have done that." Frank murmured as he put pressure on your wound
"But he was gonna shoot you!" You exclaimed with a wince.
Frank didn't know what to think, he had put you in danger, you took a bullet for him.
Frank made sure you made it to a hospital just fine. Paid your bill, and left.
Price doesn't do aftercare, he's made that point blatantly obvious from the first night together.
Well, he doesn't do aftercare for himself. John has the decency to wipe you off and make sure you're okay, you wouldn't keep coming back to him otherwise, but when you try to look after him? Complete shut down.
"C'mon, sir, let me take care of you—" you beg for the third time, giving price your best pleading eyes. You run your hand over the hair on his chest, one leg hooked over his waist in that way you know he secretly likes.
"I'm fine." He grunts, shutting down already. Tensing up, about to push you off and escape like he always does when you lean foreward.
"Awww, no fun, sir. At least a kiss?" You pout, holding his jaw and pressing your lips to his. The faint taste of smoke and whisky on his tongue, mixed with the flavor of you.
Price jolts suddenly, pulls back, eyes narrowed "what the hell did i just swallow?"
Your delighted smile is the last thing price sses.
....only to wake up...still in bed? But, no, the sheets have been changed, and price feels different. Mouth minty, teeth brushed when he runs his tongue over them. He smells clean, too, as if he took a shower. Not to mention how for once his knees don't ache to the core.
He narrows his eyes at the ceiling. His wrists are cuffed to the bed.
...there's a weight on his chest, fingers curling into the hair between pecs.
"Glad you're awake, sir. Have some soup cooling off for you." Your voice drifts up.
Really, price should have expected it. That the one person willing to sleep with him consistently is also willing to fucking drug him for the sole purpose of aftercare.
You really enjoyed playing for your local rugby team. It wasn't high stakes, except the times bets were made, and it was a great way to let off steam. Mostly for your teammates, not for you.
"Johnny we missed the - Fuck!!" Johnny hoists you into the air by your shorts, digging the elastic deep between your cheeks.
"That's why we practice, Bonnie!" He bounces you on the way down, trapping you in a headlock once your feet hit the ground. "We need to be ready for the next game, yeah? Don't want to be unprepared." You whine when he tightens his grip, roughly dragging his knuckles across your scalp.
"Tavish! Let them go. Let's run it again." John barks across the field, smirking when you pick at your wedgie. It would be useless to keep trying, but you never seemed to learn.
You looked better with a wedgie anyway, Simon swore it even made you run faster. Practice barely lasts five more minutes before your shorts are yanked up your ass again; face pressed into the dirt. "You fumbled a perfect fucking throw... Practice isn't for fucking around." Simon scolds, squeezing his thighs around your head.
"Simon, if you want them punished, that's fine, but we need to practice your pass." Kyle calls over the sound of your begging and whining. "Just hang it up on the fence. We'll get it after." He encourages, tapping his dirty cleat against your exposed ass.
That's how you spent the rest of practice. Shorts and panties hung over the fence with a perfect view of the game. Your feet just barely brush the grass, shivering when you think of everything Simon's going to put you through in the locker room.
I feel like I need to share this because idk if Europeans are familiar with the presence of Aldi in the US, but at least especially in my area they’ve been growing a lot recently. Like Aldi bought out some local failing grocery chains where I live (Louisiana) and have opened Aldis in all these somewhat rural communities and small towns, which for the record I’m fine with
But as a result of this they are advertising a lot more in my area and also in many cases, the people in these areas have never been confronted with Aldi or any European grocery store. So the ads that Aldi is pushing out to its new US customer base feature a cowboy shopping at Aldi who is explaining to new Aldi customers how Aldi works. Like this cowboy is explaining you gotta put a quarter in the shopping cart and why there are very little name brands. A cowboy is how they want to reach their American customer base. They gave us a cowboy
