tw lads

enigmog  asked:

If still up for prompts how bout full on murder bois. Geoff has told the crew they need to send a "message" to an asshole who thinks his crew is gonna rise to the top. The leader needs to be left alive. The rest of the crew is fair game

I’m not even apologizing for how late this is, as it’s like months since you sent this. Haha. I’m going back through and cleaning out my inbox instead of asking for prompts.

Ryan loved missions that required nothing more of them than to “send a message”. He especially loved it when he was sent out with just Michael and Jeremy. He loved the others in the crew, of course. They were all as dear to him as his own life, if not more so. But Michael, Jeremy, and him created a different sort of chaos than the whole crew could hope to succeed. With these two brawlers behind him, Ryan Haywood knew he could level an entire city block. 

It was true, pure power that flowed through his veins and it was enough to make anyone feel a little heady with pleasure. 

There was really no plan as they approached the door to the warehouse that the target was inhabiting. With this crew, they didn’t need a plan. The “plan” was pretty simple - kill everyone. If it had a heartbeat, it would die. The target, of whom they had all memorized the photo of, would be made an example of. But that didn’t mean he had to be alive to do it. 

Michael had some pretty wicked plans that involved dead bodies hung off the helipad at the Maze Bank and Ryan was more than willing to indulge his most wicked desires. 

When Michael’s bomb blew off the doors of the warehouse, all Ryan grunted was “stay behind me” before his mini-gun was going off. Two thousand rounds a minute, bullets sprayed across the warehouse main floor and the screaming started. His boys behind him exchanged grins full of malice. Michael, armed with his favorite Special Carbine and a shotgun for grisly shortrange work and Jeremy, armed with an M16 and a fucking hunter’s knife, followed him in.

The death and carnage that followed soon after was like a horror story. The screaming was a melody of death as Ryan mowed them all down. Later, he figured he could have had more fun had he gone slower, but why did he buy the mini-gun at all if he wasn’t going to use it? 

The crew was dead before they even really had a chance to mount any sort of resistance. Jeremy, Michael and him meet back up in the center of the room, covered in blood but hardly any of it theirs. His boys are still wearing their wicked grins and he pulls them both in for a bright kiss, blood staining their lips. The light in their eyes during their rampage is intoxicating. He knows what he’s doing later.

They slam into the next room, taking out all opponents. It doesn’t really fucking matter what kind of fight they meet - they’re armed to the teeth and their enemies are taken completely by surprise. They go down like paper dolls or puppets with their strings cut, exploding into blood and gore.

Their target tries to run. Ryan grins. He loves it when they try to do that. He shoots out his kneecaps with his precision assault rifle and the man falls with a horrifyingly brutal cry. Michael just laughs wickedly. “Make him dance!”

Ryan shoots around him and then man jerks around with a moan, Michael cackling all the way. Jeremy moves up and grabs him by the back of the shirt, hauling him up as he blubbers, legs useless. 

“Don’t ever fuck with the Fake AH Crew,” Ryan hisses. “We own this city. Crews gotta remember their place.” He jerks his hand and Jeremy drops the man back into the blood and grime on the warehouse floor, his own blood staining into their combat boots. 

“Grab him,” Ryan says after a moment and Michael eagerly does. “Let’s bring him home. Have him meet the family.” 

The man moans and opens his mouth to start begging but Ryan knocks him out with the butt of a gun. “Who knows, they could have money hidden away… and we all know how Gavin likes to use his knives.”

The grins of his boys is all the answer he needs. Fuck, he loves this job.

imagine not thinking rebecca forced herself on robert on multiple occasions🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

deputytaylor  asked:

[ben] Tell Me

Tell Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours @bencherrypie

“You wanna know why?” Alice questioned, glancing over at Ben from her side of the couch. It had been on her mind ever since he mentioned it in the drive-in movie theatre, and she’d been through a roller coaster of emotions within herself simply trying to get it out of her head. She’d been sad, that what he’d said was the truth. She’d been angry, that she’d let it get to her so much. She’d been frustrated at the fact that she wanted to bring her walls low enough to let someone in but the little voice in her head would always scream at her to remember what happened the last time she did that. The counter-acting voice would battle with the other to remind her that she hadn’t been on more than three dates with anyone enough to constitute it as a relationship in eleven years. 

“Why what?” Ben seemed preoccupied with the food the blonde had provided and she could have smiled at his innocence if she wasn’t so irritated. Not at him, not really. Mostly herself. Him a little, for ever bringing it up.

“Why I seem so prejudiced against love and romance?” It was a risk, telling him. But believe it or not, in the entire of Muddy Waters Ben was probably one of the people she trusted the most. Not that it was a lot of trust, he held. Just a little. 

“Sure.” He knew Alice well enough by now to know that it was rare for her to even offer a proper explanation. To open up, if she was going to.

“I don’t want to risk getting hurt again.” She told him, her eyes trained on his almost afraid to look away as she spoke. “Not in the emotional way. That’s just hard to avoid. I mean in.. in the physical way. You’ve seen my body, I don’t know if you actually saw it properly, but the scars there are a reminder of why I don’t trust anyone enough to allow them to see a different side to me than any patient or friend does. I don’t want to feel trapped again. That was a horrible feeling. For some reason your damn romantic movies and your reminder about how lonely people are if they go through life without someone they love, without anyone at all, just.. it got to me, okay? Nothing gets to me.” She told him, surprised at the feeling of relief flooding through her after she finished. Alice had been feeling that she owed Ben an explanation as to her odd behaviour regarding their topic, and even if he saw otherwise, it made her feel better to have it out in the open.

Cheeky Nandos Gothic

You are planning on going out to get drunk, but first you must become drunk. You play games of chance and strategy to do so. Your Coin misses the cup. You drink. Your coin goes in the cup. You drink.

You are punished for your behaviour. People enjoy drinking with you because you are their comrade. You must consume your beverage in eight, in seven, in six, in five, in four, in three, in two and in one. Why were you born? Why are you beautiful? You are of no use in this world. They laugh. So do you. You are a cunt. 

You spill your beverage. Anything spilt must still be drunk. You lick the table. You do not question your life choices. This is how it should be. These rules should be enforced. It is not the law. It is the law. 

Your face and body must be free from all forms of hair. This is how it should be. Beards are for hipsters and the homeless. Your friend Matt shaves his legs. He is a girl. He is a homo.

Your Sister has an STI. This is a personal insult. This is a joke. It is funny. You don’t know why. You laugh.

Your Mother is on the internet. This is a personal insult. You must understand that this is a joke. It is nothing personal. It is personal.

Your Dad is Michael Barrymore. This is a personal insult. Do not take them seriously. They are serious. 

You are a fucking cunt. This is a personal insult. You are a cunt. You must accept this. 

You are a smurf. This is fun. Your bare blue skin will attract a potential sexual partners. You buy her a drink without asking her. She rejects the drink. She can not do this. She refuses you again. She is a lesbian. She is frigid. She is a virgin. You drink her drink. 

You begin to question yourself and your actions. You can not admit to this. You cannot be a free thinker. You continue to drink. You are a smurf. You must find your other smurfs. This is hilarious. You feel ashamed. You can not show it. You drink. 

The next day you will go to Nandos in your favourite polo shirt. Your drink will have no bottom. Your food will be hotter than you would like it to be. You must accept this pain. To not eat it would be a sign of weakness. You cannot be weak. Girls are weak. Girls are bad. You wish that girl had not dumped you. You want to talk about it. You are forbidden to talk about it. 

You discover that Nandos does not have a table. You want to cry. You do not know what to do. You cannot go to another chicken restaurant with your friends. This would be gay. You look for a Spoons. They are everywhere. They are nowhere. This event was your idea. It has failed. You are a cunt. 

independent.co.uk
Couple wake up to find a naked Irish man in their bed
A couple from Sydney were stunned when they woke up in the middle of the night to find a naked Irishman asleep in their bed.

A couple from Sydney were stunned when they woke up in the middle of the night to find a naked Irishman asleep in their bed.

The pair, known only as Katie and Chris and who live in Maroubra in eastern Sydney, woke up at around 2am to find the 25-year-old Irish stranger completely naked under their bed covers.

Katie’s partner Chris asked the man to leave, after which he retrieved his clothes and made his way into their back garden.

Ireland vs. Australia: Internet Meme Country Thunderdome