whats up i got a lawnmower


TAGGED BY: @whats-up-i-got-a-lawnmower ,

TAGGING: Anyone!! Everyone!!

What is your name?

“What’s it to you?”

What is your real name?

“…Lieutenant Helga Katrina Sinclair.”

Do you know why you were called that?

“No idea. Don’t particularly care.”

Are you single or taken? 

Widowed. Now fuck off.”

Have any abilities or powers?

“I’m a black belt in multiple disciplines. Does that count?”

What’s your eye color?

“Don’t have one.”

How about your hair color?

“No preference.”

Do you have any family members?

Seven of them. Parents and five younger brothers.”

Oh? What about pets?

“Impractical for my lifestyle.”

That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me about something you don’t like.

People who are nosy.”

Do you have any hobbies/activities you like to do?

”…I like reading and listening to music, but I haven’t much else.”

Ever hurt anyone before?

“Look me in the eyes and ask me that again.”

Ever… killed anyone before?

“… You’re a different breed of stupid, aren’t you?”

What kind of animal are you?

I’ve been likened to that purring white Persian cat that villains tend to own.”

Name some of your worst habits.

“Getting attatched to people.”

Do you look up to anyone at all?

"My father…”

Gay, straight, or bisexual?

That is none of your god damn business.”

Do you go to school?

“Homeschooled, but I spent multiple years in military academies, as well as training in the Philippines.”

Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“I was married once… never managed kids. But I’m not holding my breath for anything else.”

Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

“What the fuck are those?”

What are you most afraid of?

“Repeating my mistakes and being hurt for it.”

What do you usually wear?

“Whatever is practical, really.”

Do you love someone?

“Yes… ”

When was the last time you wet yourself?

“I was tiny kid. That’s all I know.”

What class are you?

“I don’t fucking know. I bounce between them with paychecks.”

How many friends do you have?

“Maybe a couple, but I try to avoid those relationships.”

What are your thoughts on pie?

“Pie? Cheese and pepperoni, lots of it. With a really good crust. ”

Favorite drink?

“Whiskey and coffee.”

What’s your favorite place? 

“Don’t have one.”

Would you rather swim in the lake or in the ocean?

“Ocean. It’s where I cut my teeth with the Navy, after all.”

What’s your type?

“I… don’t think so? Becuase it reall depends. I’ve liked nice guys, and then… oh God, have I liked some terrible people…”

Any fetishes?

“Why haven’t I shot you yet?”

Top or bottom? Dominant or submissive? 


Just Friends


She sat there, seething silently as Ronald was passed a ten spot by a friend he’d only just made at the pub moments before.

Don’t get angry…you don’t get to be angry.

He wore that infamous cheeky grin of his, the woman he’d managed to coax a kiss from on a dare from this person was chattering excitedly to the friends she’d come with, stealing glances at the grim with a smeared lipstick smile.

He’s your friend…he’s your friend - calm down.

She tore her gaze away, forcing her stare to focus on the drink in her hand, willing the darkness that had begun to stain her fingers to go away, tugging her jacket sleeve over the tips of them to hide.

Why am I so angry?

She lifted the glass to her lips, honing in on that slow burn down her throat, trying to ignore Ronald as he took his seat on the stool beside her, her posture rigid and eyes practically glowing with vexation.

“…you’re a real piece of work.”

anonymous asked:

[ text ]: I realise we were joking at the time but are you considering a stripping career? (Ronald yOU KNOW WHO)

[text]: Ronald, we were drunk - no I’m not actually considering it

[text]: Not only am I no where near body confident enough, but I’m also confident that literally no one would want to see my musclebound ass in a thong.

[text]: Other than you, of course


@whats-up-i-got-a-lawnmower || continued from X

Isabella quirked an eyebrow, studying him for a moment, as if she didn’t believe he were really talking about herself, “I don’t believe I have ever had someone refer to me as ‘passionate’…” She briefly wondered if his definition of passionate was skewed to the definition she had in mind.

Her confusion only grew at his second comment, “Anxious? I hadn’t noticed… I apologize if I’ve behaved that way around you, it wasn’t intentional…” 

anonymous asked:

‡ (whats-up-i-got-a-lawnmower) (payback)

Send me ‡ for my character’s reaction to yours climbing into bed with mine.

( What do you mean payback you’re so weird payback for what. )

Grell woke up with an irritated groan as she felt the weight of the bed shift as someone else climbed in.  This was not right.  She lived alone.

She immediately sat up and turned to see who it was, heart racing, before letting out an irritated, yet relieved, sigh as her eyes found her idiotic junior.

Ronald.” she snapped, “What are you doing?"  She was angry.  Really, really angry.  But for now, she restrained herself from murdering the boy.


Ronald smiled vaguely at the blurry figure that scurried about, but that smile quickly disappeared when the child announced that he would be leaving.
“You lil’ shit—” he muttered under his breath as he sharply stood up, “You ain’t keepin’ those!”

Juuzou danced around clumsily, giggling loudly and holding his arms out in front of him to stop himself from bumping into anything.  Neither of the two could see, so it would be fairly difficult for the reaper to catch the little thief, and equally difficult for said thief to make an escape unless he removed the glasses, which he had no intention of doing.  They were much too fun. 

"But why~?” he teased, turning his head in the vague direction that the voice came from.  “It’s so much more fun when everything’s blurry.  Everything’s just lights and colours!  Those are the best parts!”

Strange Magic


Maggie stared out at the water, listening in silence as it washed against the shoreline, and feeling rather unsure of herself - she hadn’t attempted anything like this before and, to be perfectly honest, she wasn’t sure it would work but she couldn’t shake the impulse that had been nagging at her all week - she wanted to try.
She had removed her boots and socks, rolled her jeans up her calves and stood there uncertainly, reaching out with a single foot and forcing herself to focus on giving a lone order to the nanites as she stepped down, not sure whether or not this experiment would bear fruit but to her amazement…she didn’t sink.
Feeling bolder, she allowed her other foot to leave the safety of dry land, standing on top of the waves, the nanomachines allowing her to quite literally walk on water.
A surprised giggle escaped her as she started walking, slowly but surely away from shore, gaining confidence with every step and finally breaking into a dead sprint over the deepening water, laughing like a child upon discovering one aspect of her immortal curse she actually…liked.

@whats-up-i-got-a-lawnmower || Continued from X

          ⊰ ♞ ⊱ Isabella let out a tired sigh and leaned her aching head against the blonde’s shoulder, “Right. It was idiotic of me to ask anyway. We’re friends, after all, right?” Was it because her head hurt, or did she should bitter when she said that? She couldn’t be disappointed could she? Why would she be? They were friends, and sure they may have fooled around a little before, but that was nothing serious. Of course Ronald would never take any skinship between them that far. 
          She shoved the small ugly voice that whispered inside of her ‘Even the famous Dispatch Casanova won’t touch you…’ She winced slightly; she should be relived he had a good set of morals, not disappointed. She leaned back against the headboard, not noticing the rogue tear that spilled down her cheek, “You can use the bathroom to clean up if you like.”

asktheredreaper  asked:


Send me “Moan” and I’ll generate a number!

Sixteen: Your muse removes one article of my muse’s clothing

Isabella looked up from her paperwork as her blond coworker gripped her tie and pulled it up, stealing her attention by the action. Her face remained impassive if not slightly intrigued, “Yes? What is it Ronald?”

@whats-up-i-got-a-lawnmower || continued from here

Isabella’s eyebrows scrunched slightly in confusion as her gaze narrowed slightly, eyeing him wearily as her hand that had been holding her pen poised over her paperwork rested against the desk, “Excuse me?”

Was he asking her for coffee? Did he want her to get him some? If that were the case he could kindly sod off and get it himself. Was he asking her if she wanted coffee? If she liked coffee? She wasn’t entirely sure. She never really interacted much with Ronald and had always paid more attention to her work than to him and had never interacted with him outside of the Dispatch due to as soon as she was off she went to work for her company. Work never really seemed to end for her.