#Dandy Darkly

[slowdive1994]

blackberry lips>>>>

[onlyseokmins]

biker!wonwoo who revs his motorcycle's engine at 3am every. single. morning. in the new apartment complex you moved into.

it's a sputtering annoyance, pain in the ass, and a total nemesis for you who has to wake up at 5am for work. you thought moving closer to the city and lessening the commute would allow for more sleep but you were sorely mistaken.

but you can't move out because this is only a recent thing! everything was fine and dandy for a whole month and you cannot believe you were duped like this.

so, after the third week of being woken up by an engine rather than your alarm two hours later and occasionally missing your phone going off altogether once you fell back asleep again - you decide to do something about it.

after getting home from work, you stomp over and knock on the door that corresponds to the motorcycle parked outside it before you lose your nerve. there's no answer and wonwoo, the owner himself, darkly watches the way you play with your jewelry nervously while waiting on the porch from his smartphone.

"who's that pretty thing?" vernon teases, leering over the man's shoulder only to laugh and walk away when the older man flips him off, middle finger's black nail polish all chipped.

a couple hours later, he leaves the rowdy bar with a smirk still on his face after having watched you flounce away - but not without slapping a hand resolutely on his door one last time. strolling up to his building, hands tucked deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, wonwoo's tongue pokes his cheek playfully at the bright yellow sticky note left behind.

"I figured you might be asleep given how late you're out and about at night. however, I ask if you could please try to be more considerate of your neighbors sleeping - kindest regards :) "

he hangs it on his empty fridge.

and you think it worked. it's been nice and quiet at night, able to wake up significantly well-rested and in a better mood. even your coworker seungkwan is surprised when you don't snap at him for talking about his third kid on the way.

until two weeks later and you're awoken rather rudely not just by one revving motorcycle - but many. repeatedly. and you're shocked you're the only one annoyed by the unnecessary interruption and looking worse for wear from the lack of sleep.

on friday, you're prepared. even though you worked all day, you watched one of your favorite kickass dramas just for the moment at 3am when you heard the engine fire up. flying outside, you point accusingly at the dark figure throwing a leg over the bike to straddle it.

"wow, was it too hard for you to be quiet?!"

wonwoo's head flies around, thankful he actually put his contacts in tonight - yes, he sometimes rides without them but shh, don't tell anyone - because he can take in your appearance rather than whatever you're saying about how he should buy a new motorcycle.

you had been in bed like a normal person so of course you were wearing a comfy t-shirt and very obviously - no bra. wonwoo's throat dries up despite his drooling, noting your bare legs for free viewing before he tosses back, "aren't ya bein' the loud one, sugar?"

with that, he's quick to use the heel of his boot to flip up the kickstand and drive away when you angrily turn around at his condescending tone. the sneak peak of black lace - of all things - when your shirt rides up causing him to harshly grip the handlebars and try not to veer off the road. but not without glancing in the mirrors to sure you make it back inside safely.

wonwoo apologizes to you in the morning.

you think nothing of the man with messy bangs and thick glasses standing outside. not until the smell of motor oil hits your nose when you open the door, a familiar leather jacket matching the material of the fingerless gloves that cautiously wave hello, and the low drawl of "hey sugar, sorry 'bout last night. and the nights before that i s'ppose."

ofc you're highly tempted to slam the door in his face but kevlar boots hold it ajar while he smirks. "Our side of the city can get a little dangerous even with our territory expandin'. don'tcha think it's best to stay in my good graces?"

he thinks it's a shame that no one told a sweet thing like you about the dangerous stand-off between rival gangs in the area. your family had warned you about the motorcycle riders but most outside the city believed them to be an urban legend. but no, here you are in the middle of the crossfire and likely pissed off one of the big guns.

but wonwoo's actually quite fond of you. you slowly learn this and how dangerous he is after he begrudgingly takes you to see his leader - shooing nosy vernon who is hoverig. you're searching for your darn landlord to try and haggle a way to move out. somewhere safer.

"sweetheart, the safest you'll ever be is by jeon's side," seungcheol laughs with smoke billowing out of his mouth and you honestly think he's just fucking with you. "there's a target on your back and they already know what you look like."

well, shit.

"oh and don't bother about your landlord, my men wiped that bastard's existence off the streets for scammin' my boys... and people like you, i guess."

and so here you are and here you stay. surprisingly wonwoo doesn't push himself on you. instead, he exists like a stoic and quiet guard dog that lurks in the background that you just keep around. offering the smallest of smiles whenever you toss him a bone of attention that has your heart thumping and your gut twisting.

he hangs around the complex a lot more often, driving his bike a tad less which leads to a reduction in noise pollution and more sleep. though you start picking up the unforgettable hum of its engine whenever he casually shows up, close enough to watch over you getting off work but putting enough distance out of respect and to not rouse the rival gang's suspicion or intentions.

"besides," he tries to explain in a lazy drawl one night when you tentatively offer a beer and sit with him on your porch to ask. "you'd need to learn how to ride my bike and you have to get comfortable 'nough 'round me first to do that."

little do you both realize how wrapped around his finger - the physical one you just finished applying a fresh coat of black paint to - you are and vice versa.

you've lowered his high walls with your kind but spitfire nature and keeping his fridge filled with proper food/drinks and littered with more sticky notes. and he's pried open yours. not just with the fingers you'd disinfected, bandaged, and kissed easing gently in the wet heat between your legs that he has dreamt of since that fateful night and memorizing which spots make you moan the loudest. but also the quiet man who prefers the company of books rather than the fist fighting brawls he's always having to assist his gang brothers in.

but they are also his family, bonds forged by the blood spilled together rather than what runs in their veins. You can respect that, hands running across part of the gang symbol tattoo on his shoulder that will eventually reflect the back of his leather jacket - a matching one in the works for you, courtesy of seungcheol's partner.

you'd asked when he would get the rest of the elaborate design finished and he promises - with a kiss to your forehead and the dingy ring he'd given you (that's really a key ring twisted into a more flattering shape to fit your finger) - he would after saving up for few more years. lowkey, you still feel bad for yelling at him to buy a new motorcycle when he's so hard on money. by now, you've gotten used to the sound of the engine and the ride - of both the vehicle and the man.

for now, wonwoo is more than content with just your nails marking up his back instead and the warmth of your cheek pressed against it when he zooms through the city. although for his birthday, you put in a few extra hours and surprise him with a new bike - one that's engine roars obnoxiously loud!

yeah, he's completely in love with you and makes sure to baptize it with a mixture of your arousal and a couple cumstains that very night you gift it to him. the spot under the bridge, near the library that only you and him know about.

"when i first saw you all dressed up so cutely like you were going to sunday brunch with those bingo grannies, i thought there was no way you'd stick and stay around. but fuck, now you're all mine, huh sugar? never gonna leave me. under all those pretty layers is nothing but my sweet, desperate cockslut. hm, what on earth father joshua think of you spreading your legs and letting me bend you over my bike all the time? should i let you go to service next sunday with my cum soaking your panties and dripping down your legs?"

[redeemers-and-dragons]

Tales from the Celestial Nexus: Part 1

Narration: The Celestial Nexus is a breathtaking palace suspended within the cosmic expanse, encased in a shimmering crystal sphere amidst swirling galaxies. Within its circular walls adorned with divine murals, gods from all pantheons convene upon a luminous platform, surrounded by thrones of celestial design. Illuminated by an eternal flame and ancient runes of wisdom, the Nexus is where divine beings unite to discuss matters of cosmic import, forging alliances and shaping the destiny of existence itself. In one of it's many many meeting chambers, the gods and goddesses meet to discuss the various issues and notes of interest within their shared domains...

Hiatae: *Bangs gavel* Alright, as this meeting's designated Lead Chair, I formally begin the "Cross Pantheistic Gathering of the Family Domain". Would any member here like to bring forth an agenda?

Boldrei: *Raises hand giddily*

Rest of the Council: *Exasperated sighs*

Lliira: *Rubs her hands together* Oh this ought to be good.

Hiatae: *Pinches the bridge of her nose* Yes, Boldrei of the Sovereign Host?

Boldrei: *Stands up, clears her throat, and pulls out a scroll* Thankyou, Hiatae of Jotunheim. I have an important update on my Champion-

Luthic: *Sneers, while picking clean one her orc tusks* You mean, "Farm Boy"? What did he do this time? Marry a pair of horses?

Yondolla: Oh that'd be adorable! Did he?!

Boldrei: *Pouts* NO! In fact he didn't, Luthic of Neshrik! My brave knight, Sir Arc of Bourbon, has taken up his first Redemption Quest, and is now going out on his first adventure!

The Council: *Some scattered congratulations and polite clapping*

Berronar: *Boredly stroking one of her Dwarven braids* That's dandy and all Boldrei, but is there an actual agenda you're getting at? Because we all have several other domain gatherings after this that'll take up enough of our, and most importantly my, day as is.

Boldrei: What I'm trying to get at is since Jaune is now on the road, and I wanted to inquire if any of you had any followers that may be able to lend him aide if he happens to cross their path? Hopefully single and fertile?

Council: *Groans in annoyance*

Boldrei: *Looking at the Council* What? What is it?

Yondolla: *Awkwardly clasps her hands together* W-well, I'm not too sure if my girls will be willing accommodate... those certain needs. But if he does happen to cross a Halfling village, I'm sure they'll more then welcome him for supper and provide a warm bed, to sleep in that is.

Berronar: My kind won't bar him from our Under Cities. But I hardly expect any self respecting Dwarven woman will take up a human for romp.

Lliira: *Leans on her desk, the rest of her floating up into the air as she kicks her feet* Why not send him to one of my groves? I'm sure the nymphs will have a wonderful time with a cute boy like him~

Luthic: *Darkly chuckles* Or I can send you one of my war bands. The girls could use some target practice.

Hiatae: *Smacks gavel* That's enough from you two! Boldrei, I think its wonderful that your... "Champion" is taking his first steps, but I think most of the Council would agree that until he actually makes a name for himself, we see no reason to arrange our own followers to seek him out as a mate. For now, the best I'll do his not let my girls accidentally step on him.

Boldrei: Oh is that what's this about?! My Jaune isn't good enough for your followers?! Well, I tell you you're missing out! He is the Goodest Boy! You'll see! You'll all see!

Hiatae: *Smacks gavle* Order! ORDER! Boldrei, don't make me call your husband in here again!

Boldrei: *Crosses her arms and sits down pouting.* Hmph!

[didyoutrydynamite]

So how do some other gods react to Boldrei’s shenanigans with Jaune?

Hiatae: *Bangs gavel* Alright, as this meeting's designated Lead Chair, I formally begin the "Cross Pantheonic Gathering of the Family Domain". Would any member here like to bring forth an agenda?

Boldrei: *Raises hand giddily*

Rest of the Council: *Exasperated sighs*

Lliira: *Rubs her hands together* Oh this ought to be good.

Hiatae: *Pinches the bridge of her nose* Yes, Boldrei of the Sovereign Host?

Boldrei: *Stands up, clears her throat, and pulls out a scroll* Thankyou, Hiatae of Jotunheim. I have an important update on my Champion-

Luthic: *Sneers, while picking clean one her orc tusks* You mean, "Farm Boy"? What did he do this time? Marry a pair of horses?

Yondolla: Oh that'd be adorable! Did he?!

Boldrei: *Pouts* NO! In fact he didn't, Luthic of Neshrik! My brave knight, Sir Arc of Bourbon, has taken up his first Redemption Quest, and is now going out on his first adventure!

The Council: *Some scattered congratulations and polite clapping*

Berronar: *Boredly stroking one of her Dwarven braids* Thats dandy and all Boldrei, but is there an actual agenda you're getting at? Because we all have several other domain gatherings after this that'll take up enough of my day as is.

Boldrei: What I'm trying to get at is since Jaune is now on the road, and I wanted to inquire if any of you had any followers that may be able to lend him aide if he happens to cross their path? Hopefully single and fertile?

Council: *Groans in annoyance*

Boldrei: *Looking at the Council* What? What is it?

Yondolla: *Awkwardly clasps her hands together* W-well, I'm not too sure if my girls will be willing accommodate... those certain needs. But if he does happen to cross a Halfling village, I'm sure they'll more then welcome him for supper and provide a warm bed, to sleep in that is.

Berronar: My kind won't bar him from our Miner Cities. But I hardly expect any self respecting Dwarven woman will take up a human for romp.

Lliira: *Leans on her desk, the rest of her floating up into the air as she kicks her feet* Why not send him to one of my groves? I'm sure the Firres will have a wonderful time with a cute boy like him~

Luthic: *Darkly chuckles* Or I can send you one of my warbands. The girls could use some target practice.

Hiatae: *Smacks gavel* Thats enough from you two! Boldrei, I think its wonderful that your... "Champion" is taking his first steps, but I think most of the Council would agree that until he actually makes a name for himself, we see no reason to arrange our own followers to seek him out as a mate. For now, the best I'll do his not let my girls accidentally step on him.

Boldrei: Oh is that what's this about?! My Jaune isn't good enough for your followers?! Well, I tell you you're missing out! You'll see! You'll all see!

Hiatae: *Smacks gavle* Order! ORDER!

[brineffxiv]

We have been invited to a meeting of representatives of all the Alliance nations and the beast tribes.

(Wow, I wish the game would give me a better word to use, feels like a slur to call them "beasts". Also, though I realize them being 3d models would make this difficult, they should really be offered a seat at the table - literally - to make this feel like we actually respect them as equals. Having them stand at one end feels... not right.)

And the meeting is fine and dandy, and we agree to form The Grand Company of Eorzea, and Kan-E-Senna asks Alphinaud to write up a report covering his experiences with the Crystal Braves and and and none of that matters because THIS BASTARD showed up!!

I have slain gods who had committed lesser crimes than the words you just said to your children.

I don't care about the Final Days anymore; Zenos and Fandaniel can go bring about the end of the world and dance in the ashes for all I care. THIS bastard is my new target. I will make you eat those words Fourchenault Leveilleur. You should be ashamed of yourself, and as Hydaelyn is my witness I will make sure you are.

*mutters darkly*

You have a clearer head than I, G'raha, I don't remember what he said besides his being an insufferable git. If the Forum wanted to distract me, that was a masterful way to do it. I'm still fuming.

Oh dear. Looks like Fandaniel is leading a force to Carteneau. I wonder if Zenos will be accompanying him?

But before we can leave on the airship, Fordola meets us and insists we must come with her.

Oh Arenvald, I am so sorry. Is it your legs or your back? I'm sorry. How rude of me. I am glad to see you alive.

Arenvald can fight no longer, so he looks to Alphinaud to carry on where he cannot. Alphinaud doesn't feel like much of a hero, nor is he sure that he is the right person for the job, but Arenvald gives him a pep-talk and we go.

Arenvald is obviously feeling very depressed about the loss he's suffered, but I am glad he has Fordola there for support (Ship it? Ship it). And I am glad it seems that, while he might no longer be able to wield a sword, he's not out of the fight just yet. I am... potentially hopeful we might see some good disability representation through him? It's already refreshing to see the idea that being disabled makes you useless so clearly and strongly rebutted.

Aaaaaaa! Who are you making me fight as this time!?

Okay but I want those little figures. Please. Let me buy the whole set and put them on my desk.

We gotta defend the aetheric confluence. This was painful. I am unskilled with these fights. Especially the one where I had to be Urianger. PAIN.

(Fuck yes Ravana. My favorite primal!)

Please no, Fandaniel. I don't need another homoerotic violence friendship. There is only room in my heart for one muderboyfriend.

We won the day, and, while we could not save them all, we saved some. And that will have to be enough.

I think this is hope.

Yesss thank you game for appreciating my desire to make that man pay.

Omg omg is that a scythe!? Is Zenos a Reaper now? Haha sweet.

Um. What's that spiky edifice behind you there? Also, I just noticed there appear to be ruins of buildings everywhere?

Oh yeah. That's gotta be the main tower that Thancred and Urianger espied in Garlemald. Or the final boss' lair. Possibly both. Spooky fucking thing, regardless.

Opposite of hope?

Ooooo!

I kinda adore you, Zenos. You crazy bastard. I think you've fallen for me and don't know what to do with that, so express it the way you express everything else: violence!

We have assessed the aetheric currents, and determined that the towers are being fueled by drawing upon the lands' aether directly. We must inform our allies of this.

But then...

Hydaelyn?

Hydaelyn!?!? After all this time, what brings you to speak with me? To send an avatar of yourself here?

Oh shit. That's not good. Can you be a little more specific?

Oh dear.

Aaand nobody else saw the glowing lady.

Oooh and now the spooky moon is over us too.

And with that. I believe I have reached the end of Shadowbringers. The greatest expansion so far. I don't feel prepared to sum up an experience as profound as this was. Fantastic game. I am eager to get playing Endwalker.

[bouqetofmemes]

so Are we gonna get cake still?

y’all get yo ass beat here 🧍‍♂️like kicked in the stomach beat

While everyone was playing pool you were spacing off in the garden

'If I wear a nice dress one day out of the blue, what would he think of me?' 'What if I'm not the sister he was expecting? What if I disappeared, would he even care?... I'm useless.' Y/n started letting a couple tears slip

"Mistress?" *gasp* *sniff* "Yes Sebastian?" "It is tea time." "Oh, I'm coming...."

While Sebastian was talking about the tea for the day Ciel asked Y/n a question "Y/n, where did you go earlier?" "I went to the garden." "Oh."

"Grell." "Oh, yes my lady?" "Learn something from Sebastian." "Yes." "Just look at him. I mean this physique!" Madam red started touching Sebastian's ass 🌝 "You should quit this country job and come work for me in the city!" "Pff- Madam red, you're too funny!"

"So do you believe the drug trafficker was one of your guests today?" Lau asked "Perhaps." "Why not leave the extermination to Lau?" "A rat knows best where a rats nest is, doesn't he?" "I'm but a tame Guinea pig dedicated to my lord and lady." "If they instruct me not to act, I'm bound to do nothing." Lau finished with both of his hands on your heads

"Watch it!" "You'd best keep your paws off my darling niece and nephew!" Madam red yelled at Lau "You wound me!" "I would never paw at them in they're own home, dear Madam!" "Are you saying you would elsewhere?!" Madam red yelled at Lau letting both of you to fall to the ground "Careful! Your on thin ice now sir!"

"Master, mistress?" "The rats are here..."

"IT WENT THAT WAY!" "And here too."

"...ready soon, would both of you like to eat with your guests?" "Bring it to my study, I'm done here, come Y/n." "Yes

Certainly, my lord."*huff*"Finally, some peace and quiet..."Then both of you saw black "The policeman and woman of England's underworld, two of the nobles who have done the royal family's dirty work for generations."" "the Queen Guard Dog, and Butterfly." Tasked with disposing of anyone who disagrees with her.""Just how many nicknames do you two have?""How many family's have you crushed, Ciel and Y/n Phantomhive?""I thought it would be you.""You shame your family Azzurro Vanel.""Come now, my little Lord Phantomhive.""Do you know how hard it is for the Italian mafia here?""You Englishmen have nothing but tea on the brain.""It's difficult to penetrate those small minds of yours, so we have to think outside the box to make money.""So we found the drug trade."

*grunt*

"CIEL!""Did you hear that!?" "The time for talk is over!"

*scream**splat*"Y/N!"Azzurro was kicking your stomach multiple times while pulling your hair"Monsters like you always wear disguises, how 'bout you turn off that porcelain face you've got heh?" He was now kicking your face as blood was coming out of your mouth and noseThe telephone rang and the man answered it, not expecting to hear Sebastian

*chuckle**giggle*

"That's too bad..." Y/n started"Sounds like your little game of fetch is over." Ciel ended"Just shut your mouth you damn brat!""CIEL!" Azzuro hit Ciel once again"Hello?"

 Sebastian was on the phone"Woof." Ciel answered Time skip

A couple minutes later"I have no intention of fighting you. Not yet." Azzurro said to Sebastian

He then grabs your hair along with Ciel's "But you better have what I asked for!" Azzurro said while holding both of you at gun point"Yes I do, it's right here."

*gunshot*"Wha-""Sebastian, what the hell...""Aw, sorry, dandy. I really am, but this rounds mine.""There's no way I was going up against Phantomhive’s, lord and lady of games, without a trump card hidden.""I damaged the goods a little bit , but that's alright. I'm sure both of you'll fetch a pretty price, even in this condition.""I might even keep the girl here.""Im sure she'll make a fine attraction." Azzuro said darkly"Don't worry, you have so many enemies,I doubt you'll be alive for that much longer.""Alright, I'm tired of messing around." Ciel finally spoke up"How much longer are you planning to play dead.""Not long."

As Sebastian was turning into his demon form you grabbed a handkerchief and wiped off any remaining blood from both you and Ciel"Good thing we didn't get injured too much." Y/n said softly"But your stomach-""I'm fine Ciel, just a couple kicks, that's all.""Whatever, I'm having Sebastian check you for bruises and scratches.""Fine."As Sebastian was carrying Ciel and holding your arm the other servants came

"Oh, master, mistress, are you alright?" Mey-Rin asked"We were so worried, I thought you two died!" Finny said almost crying at the end"Well, at least you guys are safe and sound." Bardroy said, sounding relieved"Well, we need to get cleaned up, so please, excuse us." Y/n said worried"Do you think she's alright?" Finny asked"She's was prolly shaken up by the fact that she got kidnapped." Bardroy said"But she's safe now, maybe I can prepare a bath for 'er!" Mey-Rin said"Sure, I'll give you what's needed then you can take care of her while I tend to the master.""WAHH- S-Sebastian?""My lady.""Come in?""Mey-Rin, did you need something?""Ah- I- Uh-m, I've come to prepare a bath for you!""A bath, for me? You're far too kind Mey- Rin, there's no need for that." Y/n said, walking towards Mey-Rin"But my lady, you got kidnapped not too long ago, I bet you're shaken up a bit.""Indeed I am, fine, come, run the bath, I'll wait here.""Of course my lady." Mey-Rin said bowing

https://at.tumblr.com/bouqetofmemes/flash-back/zc0detzo11cb

[thoughtswordsaction]

The Dandy Warhols Shared New Single "I Will Never Stop Loving You" Featuring Debbie Harry

Photo courtesy of the band. “’I Will Never Stop Loving You’ is the only true ‘love song’ I have ever written,” admits Courtney Taylor-Taylor of THE DANDY WARHOLS about the fourth single taken from their new album ROCKMAKER which is released today, March 15, 2024via Sunset Blvd. Featuring vocals from the legendary Debbie Harry, “I Will Never Stop Loving You” is a darkly anxious track that sees…

[writer59january13]

Severe surge regarding thou shalt not kill violations

Fifth commandment breached regularly epidemic of gun violence in America bullets fly, scream and tear into flesh senseless rampant mass killings rip across fabric of society buzzfeeding, jump/kickstarting,

paradigm of mortality. Since January first two thousand and twenty three countless innocent people lost lives deliberately, yet randomly targeted shot dead at point blank range merely going about their ordinary business. No clear cut motive nor profile delineates active shooter(s), who could be either (or any) gender and range in age from grade school to septuagenarian.

The latest homicides woo,

and appease the grim reaper, where gunman(men)/women slew

dirty deeds done dirt cheap many baker's dozen innocent people

unknowingly and unwittingly drew (rather gurgled) their last breath

choking on splintered blood vessels

beckoning, issuing, and twittering minimal horrific animal primal gasps and groans.

Adversarial criminal minds

finds yours truly to interject

reasonable parenthetical rhyme without reason, thus I temporarily tack tangentially offtrack

with cogent concise contemplation to extemporize, lyricize, and soliloquize brutal nasty senselessness perpetrated courtesy fearsome

half cocked pistol packing maniacs,

whereby evils unrelentingly replaying nightmare (exceeding cruelty by magnitudes administered

courtesy rocky horror picture show) of gruesome carnage broadcast across

social media platforms

of killing fields anew,

in the minds of those unfortunate souls

who bear witness to deadly crime, where odd stark juxtaposition

elicit skeletal goldenrods yellowed stalks adrip with morning mountain dew encompassing fresh footprints, where berserk humans

prowling in the tall grass

(them of naked ape infamous

zoological niche) lately trod

in search of human prey welcomed unsuspecting killer(s) true colors transformed into hideous monsters

predictably soothing savage beasts undertakers grisly task patching shredded bodies after homicidal maniac

fired bullet(s) setting corpse

recalibrating counting queue.

As month one of new year (according to Chinese tradition water rabbit constitutes animal de jure) allows, enables, and provides brisk business for crematoriums or funeral parlors. Whether native American citizen or foreigner (perchance student) slain survivors bereave and issue final adieu, whether gentile nor Jew, perhaps including child named Caillou instantaneously slain, who knew not what felled them engrossed amidst social ballyhoo ex post facto registering grievous hue pallbearers accentuating somber view eclipsing most recent prior massacres similar to previous you ululations yesterday's sorrows without handy dandy blue's clue lame motive explaining cold blooded slaughter vis a vis unsurprising discover re: firearms Jane/ John Q. Public kept stashed loaded, deployed... guns up the kazoo cocked, gauged, primed... for unleaded opportunity to unleash barrage invariable generating hullabaloo to curb bloody violence trumpeting predictable brew ha ha alloyed against National Rifle Association almighty Republican supported lobbyist's motley crew versus increased uproar protesters chorus nearly few tile opposition pitted grand Poobah despite alarming statistics shew plus increasing fresh gravesites dug amidst freshly mowed fescue attesting to wanton shell shocked headlines indiscriminate brew tilly assaulting sensibilities without rhyme nor reason yet, yours truly doth boo leave rampant hatred directly linkedin to former "FAKE" commander in chief, (biden his time as patient hunter) whose acrid, horrid, rabid vitriol still darkly colors political hue man gushing bloody fountainhead few ming and appreciable frothing lathers up right wing supremacists greenlighting smoldering new bile radicals hot headed volatile mindset whereby self anointed anarchistic Guru possibly fuels global warming evidenced by displaced Inuits flooding courtesy melting igloo.

[frankendeers]

A compilation of recent pics I like. (He/Him)

[gamerbearmira]

Can we get a glimpse of Evil Antonio (from the alternate Mamabel AU) shocking his family by destroying the candle right in front of them with Bruno beside him?

Hello hello!

Of course you can! I actually wrote this a while ago, but I also added onto it!

-----

No Mama, No Miracle.

Antonio stared at the limp body that had been impaled by metal. He didn't believe-- He didn't want to believe it.

"Mamá..." He whimpered, grabbing her hand. It was cold, too cold. Only giving more confirmation that she was dead.

Big tears poured from his eyes are he tightly held her hand, whispering her name over and over. He refused to look at her face, he just kept staring at her hand.

He sat there for what seemed like forever. First his Abuelista, then his Mamá? Though he wasn't looking, he could see the pole in his left peripheral. The tall cold metal beam was covered in red, red that should not be there.

Antonio's mind was spinning. He couldn't think straight. Too much was happening. Someone was holding his shoulder, his tio, he noticed. He also noticed several other people, small people standing around her.

He felt like he was going insane. He probably was. He truly wasn't able to produce more than one cognitive thought:

They did this.

His body shook with rage as that horrible cursed family came to his mind. Their faces made him irrationally angry. If it weren't for them, his Mamá would still be here.

"Antonio?" His herman--no. Dolores. He heard that woman, Dolores speak. Still holding his mamà's hand, he slowly turned his head, looking at the people who did this.

They all looked fine. Just fine and dandy. But his mamá, his precious mamá...

They did this.

They needed to pay.

Antonio looked at Alma, who's eyes weren't on Antonio or his mamá. His eyes shifted to see what she was looking at.

It was the candle. It was almost melted, and the flame was one blow away from going out. One thought came to his mind. It repeated over and over in his 5 year old mind.

Put it out.

Put it out.

Put it out.

Though it hurt him, he let go of his mamá and stood, walking over to the candle. His pupils dilated at the sight of it.

He hated it. He wanted it gone.

He picked it up with the gentleness only a 5 year old like him could have.

"Toñito?" Alma said, moving forward and catching the rest of the Madrigal's attention. They all saw Antonio holding the candle. "C-Can you hand me the candle nieto?" She said kindly.

Antonio stared at the woman before shifting his eyes to look at the dying flame. His pupils dilated even more as he stared at it.

"Toñito?" Alma said again. Antonio gaze flicked upward and he looked at Alma. His face twisted into one of rage, startling the woman.

Put it out.

Put it out.

Put.

It.

Out.

He looked directly into Alma's scared eyes. Alma saw the look he had, and she realized something:

That was not Antonio.

"If I can't have my mamá," He said in a dry voice, hoarse from screaming for so long. He raised his small hand, and it hovered over the fire. The heat was almost gone, he barely felt it. He saw the Madrigals rush foward. But they weren't fast enough.

PUT IT OUT.

His hand smashed the top of the candle, and he dug his palm into the wax. He knew they felt the magic die, as they all slumped in defeat. He raised his hand and let them see the burnt out candle.

"Then you can't have your miracle." Antonio said darkly. He crushed the wax with his hands,  letting is drop to the ground as he continued to stare into Alma's horrified eyes.

That was not Antonio.

"How...how could you...How could you?!" Alma screeched, tears falling from her eyes. She looked to the side and saw Bruno, who was standing with his hands on Antonio's shoulders. "Bruno, mijo, w-why didn't you stop him?!"

Bruno looked into his mothers...no. He looked in Alma's eyes. And his face screamed hate. Disgust. Anger.

"B-Bruno?" Julieta asked, bending down to tend to her mother. The man picked up his sobrino. Antonio's eyes were filled with absolute rage--and if that wasn't enough, Parce was about 10 seconds from mauling the family.

"I hate you all." Antonio sneered with pure hate as he handed the remainder of the candle to his uncle, who held it in his palm. Alma looked up at her former son, who had a dark look over his face. His eyes were glowing a sickly, vivid green, the light casting down onto Alma's face.

"You aren't my mother," Bruno's eyes narrowed as Antonio faced darkened signifigantly. "Antonio and I aren't a part of this fore saken family." he dropped the crushed candle in front of Alma. Before Alma could reach for it, a foot crushed it. A small foot. She looked up and saw the boy with a angry jaguar next to him.

"Don't touch it. You don't deserve it." Antonio snapped, his foot digging into the candle. The family watched in shock and fear as he picked up the remains and turned it into a hard wax ball. "Parce," Antonio called to jaguar, who was baring its teeth as the Madrigals. "What do you think of this new toy I've gotten you?" He shook the wax ball before tossing it into the jaguar's mouth.

The Madrigals watch how the jaguar still seemed to obey the boy. He still had his Gift?

"Antonio, mi precious hijo," Pepa tried to coax him into coming to her.

Antonio snapped at that point. "YOU AREN'T MY MAMA!" he screeched.

Pepa reeled back and fell into her husbands arms at the boys statement. She watched as Antonio's eyes welled up, to which he swung his head away and jumped back into Bruno's arms, the man rubbing his back as the boy began to sob about how much he missed his Mamabel.

"Come on. We'll go to your mama and your siblings and we'll figure out what to do then, ok?" Bruno whispered as he carried the boy off. Parce snapped his teeth at the Madrigals before following him, leaving the chewed, balled up wax mess that was once the Madrigal miracle.

One thing the Madrigal's realized in that moment was that, those two were not Madrigals.

Those, were Vergara's.

-------

I hope you liked this! I actually had a lot of fun writing this, Evil Mamabel Antonio fun surprisingly fun to write for lol.

Feel free to ask more about Mamabel, Papatonio, Housebroken, or any other AU's you find on this blog!

I also take art suggestions for all aus on this blog, including Cocooned!

If you have an AU idea, send it in and I'll expand on it best I can!

[captain-tch]

The Drummer and the Freak (Eddie Munson x GN!Reader) 2/2

When your friend breaks her hand two weeks before Battle of the Bands, you need a replacement, and now. Luckily for you Eddie Munson is a fast learner. Warnings: mentions of reader wearing makeup (eyeliner, mascara, lipstick)

part 1

It felt like second nature for Eddie to be around now. He lingered in the corner of your gaze, occupying all of your senses and thoughts. Ever since the night he came to your house to practice for the first time, you felt as if you had fallen victim to a spell. Every day you couldn’t wait until you were practising, one step closer to your goal and the perfect excuse to watch him play openly. Normally, you only ever felt joy being in this bandroom with your friends; but today, you felt a hint of sadness. It was the final time you would practice together. 

As the last notes of the Journey song echoed throughout the room, you were unable to contain your shriek of joy. Steve stepped away from his keyboard, taking a large gulp of water, Robin hopping up and down excitedly and Eddie was bending backwards, stretching his back like a cat. 

“I can’t believe it’s so close.” 

Steve clapped your shoulder. “One step closer to victory.”

For once, Eddie didn’t counter it. You were all extremely positive that despite only two weeks of training, you could actually win. 

“You’re nearly as good as me,” Robin grinned, dodging Eddie’s playful hit to the arm. “It was genius, adding metal. Who knew metal could be so cool?” 

“I did!” Eddie exclaimed, blind to Robin’s teasing smile. 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” She patted his shoulder, nodding at Steve. “Ready to bounce?”

Steve shook his head up and down, snatching his backpack. He gave us a big smile, waving and leading Robin out of the room. “See you for the big night!”

You echoed their farewells, letting the smile drop the moment their backs were turned. You sat, staring around the four walls for what felt like the final time. Your heart constricted in your chest as you realised one time, you would leave this room and never enter it again. The place where friendships were forged and creativity thrived. This was where you were the most vulnerable, where you let my emotions spill into the beat of a drum and slam of the cymbel. During your time in high school, this was your second home. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked. 

You wanted to nod your head; you found your head moving side to side. You laughed darkly. “I’m dandy.” 

“I thought you’d be more excited.” 

“I am, I am.” You sighed deeply, turning your eyes away from Eddie. “It’s just bittersweet, I guess.” 

He took the seat across from you, listening attentively. 

“Robin and Steve, they have plans, big plans, and me? I’m stuck in this hell hole of a town, praying I can graduate and if I’m lucky, manage the gas station down the road.” You rubbed your fingers together, tracing the calluses formed after years of drumming on your palms. “Not that being a gas station manager is a bad thing, it’s just, it feels like everyone is moving forward and I’m… here.” 

“Moving forward is overrated, I should know, I’m pretty sure I’m repeating senior year. Again.” Eddie shrugged, sending you a shy smile. “They’re not going to forget you.” 

“That’s the thing about moving forward Eddie, people don’t look back. I’m just trying to enjoy whatever time with them I have left.”

Eddie looked at you carefully. “Then I guess we’ve got to win then.” 

“Exactly.” 

When Eddie picked you up in the morning in his van, you felt sick to your stomach. Your nerves were plaguing your body and your hands wouldn't stop shaking. 

He sent you a reassuring smile, helping you load the last of your drum kit into his van. 

"Thanks, Eddie." 

He wiped his forehead, giving you yet another smile. You convinced yourself the butterflies in your stomach were because of the concert tonight, and not caused by the way he was looking at you. 

"Are we all set?"

You cast a glance over the contents of the van, a sudden thought springing to mind. Telling him to hold off, you rushed inside the house, sprinting up the stairs and snatching up the tshirts carefully folded in the back of your closet. You rushed back down, shouting a farewell to your parents as you stopped in front of Eddie. Your chest heaved up and down as you tossed him a shirt. He fumbled to catch it, lifting it up to inspect it. The material was jet black, with short sleeves. There was a white and red carnival tent, the flaps open to reveal bold, white scratchy writing. 

"Welcome to the Circus?" Eddie raised a brow. 

"Yeah, we finally decided on a name." You gently took the shirt from his hands, ignoring how you felt electric when your hands brushed his. On the back, the band name was present proudly. 

"Freak Show?" 

"I know it doesn't exactly fit our vibe but… It felt right." 

"I love it." Eddie sent you another blinding smile. This time you couldn't ignore how your heart skipped a beat. 

He handed it back to you, you pushed it back towards him. "It's yours. You're one of us." 

You couldn't pull myself from his gaze. You hadn't realised how close you were standing and all of a sudden all you could sense was him - his calming presence, the weed scent glued to his skin and if you looked up, he'd be looking directly down at you. Your heart pounded in your ears and all you could think about was reaching up, pulling him down and catching his lips on your own. 

"C'mon," You cleared my throat, wrenching yourself from the spell. "We need to pick the others up." 

Eddie appeared dazed as he pulled away. He didn't acknowledge what had just happened, shutting the doors to the van and slinging the shirt across his shoulder. 

It was normal for the van to only be filled with the shrill of his tapes. You blocked them out. 

Robin and Steve ran out of the house in a flurry, Steve awkwardly carrying his keyboard down the driveway. Eddie helped him load it in the truck whilst you hugged Robin, her swinging you side to side in excitement. The pre-gig buzz was setting in and you were all high on it. The drive to the gig was unbearingly slow, each minute seeming to drag for years. 

Robin’s head appeared between yours and Eddie’s seats. “I know we’re running on a tight schedule and everything, but if I don’t pee right now I think my bladder is going to explode, like full on boom.” 

“We literally passed a diner, like five minutes ago.” 

“I didn’t need to pee then!” Robin’s bottom lip popped out. “Pretty please?” 

Eddie sighed, looking at Robin from the corner of his eye. 

“You can’t say no to a face like that.” You patted Robin’s cheeks, doing your best to give Eddie your biggest, doe like eyes. “She did say please.” 

“Ugh, fine.”

“There!” Robin leaned over the seats, pointing at a gas station coming up on the horizon. She infringed on Eddie’s line of vision. Eddie slapped her hand out of the way, the van swerving slightly. Steve swore at the back, muttering about how he should be the one driving. 

Robin retreated into her seat, bouncing up and down in her seat as you got closer to the gas station. The car had barely pulled to a stop before Robin had wrenched the door open, sprinting out and screaming aggressively. “Move out of the way!” 

You all watched Robin’s form disappear into the toilets. Eddie was the first to break the silence. “Is she always like that?” 

“Pretty much.” Steve and you spoke in unison. 

“Good to know.” 

You huffed a laugh, interlocking your fingers and stretching your arms out in front of you. Your joints popped, a wave of relief coursing through you.

Eddie tried to disguise his disgust at the clicking noise. “Why don’t you stretch your legs? Might as well make the most of it.” 

“I’m fine here.” You smiled nervously at him, playing with your fingers. He smiled back, eyes remaining on your face. Steve watched the pair of us from the back seat, mouth slightly opening in realisation. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I’m going to grab some snacks. Want anything?” Steve waited for a response, shrugging. “Okay, if anyone complains about the food I’m officially resigning from all future snack duties.” 

With a resounding thud, Eddie and you were left all alone in the van. Blood pounded in your ears. It wasn’t like this was your first time alone with Eddie, in fact ever since that first night where you’d practised at your house you had carried on the routine. You were comfortable in his company, yet it never stopped your nerves setting alight when he looked at you a certain way or tugged at his lips with teeth as he talked. 

“So,” Eddie turned in his seat, so his entire body was facing you. You kept your head down, too busy tracing the calluses on your hands. “Big night, huh?” 

You nodded, swallowing thickly. 

“Any plans once this is all over?” 

“I guess try not to flunk? ‘Sides from that, no, not really.” You therapeutically cracked your knuckles, letting the satisfying clunks distract you from your thoughts. You tried not to think too often about what you would do, what all of you would do, once the Battle of the Bands was over. It felt like for years this band was the only keeping Robin, Steve and you together and you were too scared to find out what would happen when the band no longer existed. 

“Great, because I was thinking -” Eddie’s words were cut off as Robin threw herself in the back seat, a sigh of relief passing her lips. 

“Oh my god, guys, I have never felt better in my life! Not even after that time where I had a splinter in my toe for three weeks and finally managed to get it out. But the toilets were pretty dodgy, do you think I’ll need to get tested? I felt like I got an STI the minute I sat down.” Robin halted in her rant, assessing how close Eddie and you were sitting. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nothing important - what were you saying, Eddie?” You felt as if you saw Eddie deflate. He twisted his body away from mine, the distance between us growing. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, momentarily tapping his fingers against the material. 

“I was just asking if you wanted a smoke.” 

Confusion flooded your senses. You stuttered, wanting to question him more, feeling the words die in your throat. “No, I’m - I’m good, thanks.” 

“‘Kay.” Eddie hopped out of the driver’s seat, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. You stared at the space where he was a second ago, racking your brain for something you did wrong. From here you could see his figure in the side mirror, his body curved against the side of the van as he lit up a cigarette. His left foot was pushing gently against the side of the vehicle. You had no idea what he was thinking, struggling to gauge his feelings, his hair covering the details of his face. Your heart begged for you to chase him outside, to soothe his woes and provide him some company. You stayed cemented in your seat.  

"You okay?" Robin's hand fell on your shoulder. You forced your gaze to tear away from Eddie’s reflection, trying to wipe any trace of worry from your face. 

"Yeah, fine, totally." 

Robin smiled knowingly. "You're nervous." 

"Kinda." You didn’t elaborate further. While you were nervous for the gig, you were more nervous about being on the stage with him, and how things would unfold once the final note was played. 

"I know how to help with that." Robin disappeared from my sight, then reappeared with her makeup bag. She rummaged around, pulling out an eyeliner. "Got to look the part, ya know?" 

You nodded, allowing her to guide the pencil over your eyelids. You blinked at the foreign sensation, narrowly missing the pencil being jabbed into your eye. She tutted, dragging the pencil along your eyelids again for good measure. 

You moved away from her, familiarising myself with the new feeling. She grabbed your chin, yanking you forwards. You almost fell forwards with the sheer force of it. She swiped mascara over your eyelashes, leaning backwards and assessing her work. 

“It just needs… A little something else.” She turned away, digging into the makeup bag. You took this opportunity to blink rapidly, feeling the unfamiliar weight of mascara on your lashes. 

“Voila!” She pulled out a bright red lipstick, grinning madly. You had no chance to protest, her pressing it to your lips and wiping the colour effectively across them. 

“This is assault!” You complained, squirming away from her. She simply smiled, clicking the lipstick closed. 

“Have a look.” 

You bit back the urge to swipe the colour from your lips, following Robin’s orders. You took the compact mirror she handed you, unable to contain your gasp. You looked… stunning. The eyeliner had smudged slightly, but it made it even more perfect. The mascara made your eyes pop and the lipstick made you look powerful. It felt as if you were wearing battle armour. 

“You gonna press charges now?” 

You shook your head, watching your reflection as you grinned. The lipstick framed your lips perfectly. 

“Are you guys ready to hit the road?” Eddie was twirling his keys around his finger, appearing in the now open driver's door, carrying the sweet stench of smoke with him. With a jingle, the keys flew off his finger as his eyes fell on you. “Oh, uh, hi.” 

“Hi.” You laughed, ducking your head in embarrassment. 

“You’re welcome,” Robin winked discreetly at you, patting you playfully on the shoulder. “I’ll go find your keys then, Munson. Not like we need to get somewhere soon.” 

“Oh right,” he twirled his hair, bringing the curl to his face. He looked you up and down, and you felt as if you were under the microscope. You could feel the sweat building on your hands. “You look nice.” 

“Thanks.” You mumbled, unable to fight the happiness forcing your lips upwards, 

“Get a room!” Robin mocked. You knew if you had your drum sticks in hand, you would be throwing them at her. 

Steve walked out of the shop, laden with bags. As all eyes turned to him, he held his hands up in surrender. “It’s not a road trip without a lot of snacks.” 

~

You couldn’t believe it. The moment was nearly here. You all stood to the corner of the stage, waiting for your name to be called. The band before us was just finishing and with each note you felt your anxieties grow. The pressure in your chest got larger. 

This was our last chance. 

This was the final chance to win and leave our mark in history.

This was our last performance together.  

The drumsticks in your hands looked like they were vibrating. You willed them to stop; they just shook faster. 

“Hey,” Eddie leaned towards you, his hair brushing your cheek. You shivered at the feeling. “We got this.” 

You pushed down the fear rising in your throat, feeling yourself nod. You turned your head, his face mere inches from yours. You don’t know what possessed you but you leaned even closer, so close one false move and there would be no space between us. 

“Good luck,” you breathed. You felt his eyes focus on the movement of your lips.  

“Please welcome to the stage, Freak Show!” 

“Stop flirting, we have a prize to win!” Steve slapped yours and Eddie’s back harshly, pushing himself between us, effectively breaking us apart. You followed Steve onto the stage, eyes trained to our band name pasted on the back of his shirt. 

The roar of the crowd was deafening. The lights were blinding. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest it was threatening to break through your ribs and your hands were so sweaty you feared the drum sticks would fly out of your hands. 

You’d been waiting for this moment since you stepped into the halls at Hawkins High. You’d trained for this for years, spent countless hours with Robin and Steve building calluses and creating music to thrive here. Every waking moment of the past two weeks had built up to these three minutes on this stage, in front of this crowd.

Robin waved at us from the side of the stage, sending us an enthusiastic thumbs up. She wore her band shirt proudly, the colours reflecting under the stage lights. 

Steve settled into position behind his keyboard, adjusting the mic. He smiled at you wide, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. Eddie was tuning the guitar, testing a few chords before looking up, finding your gaze already on him. His face was gentle. 

“You got this.” He mouthed. 

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath. We were ready. 

You clapped the drum sticks together, signalling the start of the song. 

Steve’s body moved as he began to play the keys of the intro, moving closer to the mic. “Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.” 

Eddie softly nodded his head to the music, strumming the guitar to the new faster melody. 

You waited for your queue, hitting the drums with a burning passion as the chorus came into play. You leaned closer to the mic to join Steve in the vocals, eyes closing as your hands guided the sticks by pure muscle memory. Eddie shredded the guitar, letting the electric notes warp and change the song into something new and bold. 

Eddie took centre stage as he did a guitar solo, his instrument seeming to be part of his body. You couldn’t move my eyes from him, enraptured by the way his whole upper body tilted forward with the solo. His fingers moved along the strings deftly, his rings reflecting in the lights as he poured his entire being into the music. As his solo finished, he looked up, and it felt like the whole room disappeared. 

It felt like mere seconds we were up there, but soon the song came to a close and the crowd were screaming. You were out of breath and your arms were aching but we did it. 

You rushed out of my seat, running up to Steve and Eddie, grabbing them and excitedly jumping up and down. Robin ran off from the side of the stage, joining all of us in your festivities. We were talking over one another breathlessly, relishing the love of the crowd as we let the fame wash over us for a glorious second. 

This was the moment you had been dreaming of since you first signed up for Battle of the Bands. We were living our glory days now, and god did it feel electric. 

We left the stage, riding the buzz of the performance. This was a high you never wanted to come down from. 

“Guys, you were amazing!” Robin squeezed me into a rib breaking hug, holding me at arms length. “I’m so sad I couldn’t play but holy shit, watching you guys? You were incredible!”

Steve pounced on Robin from behind, shaking his hand through her hair and messing it up. She laughed, fighting to get him off. He eventually jumped off, Steve and Robin gushing amongst themselves, Robin using big hand gestures and nearly hitting passer-bys with her cast. You smiled, watching them interact. 

“You were amazing.” Eddie reached out, his hands finding your shoulders. He shook you lightly, exclaiming enthusiastically. “You were a machine out there!” 

“Me?” You scoffed, brushing off his hands. “What about you, Mr Metal? For a guy who dissed Don’t Stop Believin you were pretty into it.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Are you ready to put your reputation on the line for the second round?” 

“I’m in it until the finish line, baby.” 

You loved the way the pet name rolled off of his lips. You’d pay anything to hear it again. Maybe it was the rush of the gig, or a sudden rush of courage, but you moved onto your tiptoes, whispering into his ear. “I can’t wait to see you play the next song.” 

You pulled away, biting your lip to suppress the grin at his slightly confused yet curious expression. His brow lifted, taking a minute to process what you had said. A tension settled amongst the pair of us, one you weren’t wanting to break, addicted to this feeling, how he made you feel.

“They’re announcing the set list!” Steve snatched at your hand, wrenching you forward, shattering the moment. A crowd of all types of people clustered around the announcer shouting out the names of the bands moving to the next round. All around you people rejoice and others wait in anticipation. With each name whittled off, you started to feel your hope ebb away, until the announcer finally jumped from the podium, leaving a stream of hopes and lost dreams in his wake. 

They didn’t call your name. 

“We…Lost?” You sucked in a breath, and then another. You could feel your chest constricting as one thought circulated throughout your brain - I wasn’t good enough. 

You couldn’t comprehend what was happening. You turned on your heel and ran, bursting out the fire exit of the club, gulping the night air. You instantly regretted not bringing a jacket but the thought of going back inside made the world spin. You were deaf to the footsteps behind you, only becoming aware of his presence when he appeared before you, crouching down, hands ghosting your skin. 

“Hey, hey, breathe.” You only stared at him, unable to form words. “It’s okay, it’s not the end of the world.” 

“This was -” Your fingernails cut into the palms of your hands. “These are our glory days, and I know it sounds so stupid but I just wanted one good story to tell.”

“There are plenty of other stories -” 

“That they’ll forget! They’ll forget the times we played hookie and played in the band room until our fingers were sore, or the time that Robin stuck my drum stick up her nose and we nearly had to take her to the hospital.” You were on the verge of hyperventilating, the tears falling freely. “They’ll forget everything.”

You saw Eddie’s face fall slack, the truth dawning on him. “This wasn’t about winning.” 

“Is it that obvious?” You choked out a laugh, sniffling. “I don’t know what will happen once the band is done. I don’t know if we’ll stay friends, or if they’ll just leave like everyone else. I - I just wanted one really big win.” 

Eddie said nothing, his hands now touching the bare skin of your arms. He rubbed reassuring circles into the skin. 

You weakly smiled, rubbing at your tear stained cheeks. “Everyone remembers the big wins and we never had a chance to get one. They’re going to forget.”

“That’s never going to happen.” 

You snickered darkly, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, you can predict the future Eddie.” 

“I will never forget you.” 

“You’re just trying to suck up to me.” 

“I won’t forget a single second.” Eddie’s hand moved from your arm, to gently cupping your cheek. You found myself subconsciously succumbing to his touch. “I’m not going to forget a single thing and I’ve only known you for two weeks, they’ve had years with you. Trust me, they won’t be able to forget a person like you.”

You gasped, suddenly remembering the real reason he was standing in front of me. “Oh god, the money! I’m so sorry.” 

“Well,” Eddie smiled softly. “I did ask for something for my trouble.” 

“What?” 

“You said I could have anything I like,” Eddie took a deep breath, mustering the courage. “ I’d like you. I’d like to go on a date with you.” 

“But…Why?” 

“Don’t you get it? It was never about the money to me, it was about you.”

You gaped at him. YOu couldn’t form any words, floored by his confession. In the weeks you’d known him, he’d weakened your knees and made your hands shake. Hearing him saying the things from your fantasies spurred you to recreate one of your most prominent dreams. 

You grabbed the front of his shirt, dragging him towards you. You gave yourself no time to think as you pushed your lips against his. His lips were slightly chapped, roughly rubbing against your soft ones. He melted under your touch, his hands falling just above your waist. Your pulse was thundering as his lips moved against yours, moving in perfect harmony. He tasted like cigarettes. 

He pulled away, forehead pressed against yours. Your breaths mixed together as his lips hovered inches from yours. His gaze was fixed on you, mouth spread open wide. 

“I take it that’s a yes?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, cut off by the door behind you slamming open. Eddie and you jumped apart, spinning to the source of the noise. Steve rushed out, Robin on his tail, his eyes wide and snatching at your wrist. 

"What are you doing?" You exclaimed, trying to pull yourself out of his grasp. 

"Just, come on!" He pulled you further down the hall, leading us closer to the main stage. Noise assaulted your ears, the crowd chanting something you struggled to make sense of. 

"We lost Steve, let's just go home!" You screamed to be heard over the noise. 

He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you lightly. "Just listen!" 

You rolled your eyes but complied. You focused on the noise, finally making out the words of the chant. 

"Freak! Show! Freak! Show!" 

"Is that…" 

Steve grinned manically. "Ready to go play again?" 

You spun around, Eddie's face mirroring Steve's. He nodded enthusiastically. "We can't deny the people what they want." 

Robin jumped on Steve’s back, piggybacking him onto stage as she raised her fist in the air, shaking it wildly. You followed closely, feeling Eddie’s fingers interlace with yours as you stepped onto the stage, where the crowd was cheering your name. You all drank in the noise, sharing disbelieving euphoric grins. 

Yeah, you didn't win. But there was one thing you knew for sure - none of you were going to forget that for a very, very long time. 

stranger things masterlist

[alpacaparkaseok]

Book of Soulmates

Request: “I have such a soft spot for Jungkook right now so can you make First words au I’m in love with this prompt! Thank you and fighting have a good day author-him I love you!!” @mochipabo95​

pairing: Jungkook x reader

premise: Leave it to Jeon Jungkook - one of the most sought after, beloved men in the world - to have the most bland phrase tattooed onto his arm. This isn’t going to be easy.

It’s late. Or maybe it’s early. If he's being completely honest with himself, he’s afraid to check the time. He knows that he hasn’t slept at all. 

Jungkook stretches, finally deciding to give up on sleep and see if he can do something productive with his life. 

It turns out that a shower and some breakfast is the most productive things are going to get this morning. Jungkook made the mistake of glancing at the words tattooed onto his arm not long after he got up, and that was all it took for him to set up camp on the couch and begin where he left off last night. 

His soulmate bond finally appeared just yesterday afternoon. The fated first words were set in place, and what those words entailed had him nearly losing his mind all night. 

Nobody knew when or how the first words would imprint themselves onto the skin, but there were just a few things that had become apparent to specialists that studied the strange soulmate bond: 

Fact #1: The words were the first your soulmate would say to you

Fact #2: When the words appeared on your flesh, it usually meant you had about 24-48 hours before meeting your soulmate. 

That was all fine and dandy, of course. In fact, Jungkook had always looked forward to the day that his soulmate mark would appear and he would finally get to meet the person he’s been waiting for all his life. There were just two problems with the words that appeared on his arm yesterday afternoon, mid-meal with the other boys. Jimin had been the one to see them appear; Jungkook was far too lost in his meal to pay much mind to the slight tingling in his left arm. he certainly started paying attention when Jimin practically spit his food out.

Problem #1: Today and tomorrow, which was the most likely time that he would meet his soulmate, there are fan meetings scheduled. Why was that a problem, beside all the publicity that would no doubt take place? Let’s look at #2.

Problem #2: The first words that his soulmate would say to him were going to be said by nearly everyone at the fan meeting. Right there, tattooed onto his arm, were the words, “Good morning!”

“Good morning.”

Jungkook leaps off of the couch, his eyes wide and already panting as he whips around, only to be faced with a half-asleep Namjoon. He frowns at the maknae, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before slinking into the kitchen. 

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to remember how to properly breathe, before following the leader. “...hi.”

Namjoon chuckles darkly, peering into the fridge. “You’re in for a long day if you’re going to be that wired every time somebody says good-”

“Don’t!” Jungkook holds his hands out before running them through his hair. “Don’t say it. Nope. Let me breathe.”

Continuing to laugh quietly at his antics, Namjoon just shoots Jungkook a pitying glance while swiping some milk out of the fridge. “Have you eaten?”

-------------------

Namjoon was right. 

It’s been a long freaking day. 

So far, Jungkook has had about 47 false alarms, just from people saying the simple and awfully common phrase of good morning.

Don’t even get him started on how many times he’s overheard the word ‘good’ and nearly lost it. 

His hair is standing at odd ends, and there are the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes that no amount of makeup can cover up. The fans that form the line to begin meeting the boys whisper quietly amongst each other, wondering if he’s been having trouble sleeping. 

Once he begins signing autographs and meeting fans individually, he finds himself clenching his jaw so tightly that a headache is beginning to grace his temples. 

Every so often a fan greets him with ‘good morning’, leaving Jungkook unsure of whether he should burst into tears of joy at potentially meeting his soulmate, or just get up and leave before he falls apart. 

In the end, he simply settles for clenching his jaw a little tighter. 

Another girl makes her way down the line, hesitantly approaching the clearly tense boy, shuffling before him and hardly daring to say a word for fear of his response. 

Jungkook glances up at the girl, a part of him appreciating her kind eyes that flit about the room. Her cheeks are a little red, she’s clearly nervous about meeting him. 

The girl catches him looking at her, and she takes a leap of faith, offering up her prettiest smile.

“Good morning!”

Jungkook’s shoulders tense as he bites down on any form of hope that tries to overtake him. Through his clenched jaw, Jungkook only mumbles out, “Mhmm.”

Reaching for the photo card the girl had brought, prepared to just move on, she hisses at the burn in her arm. Jungkook mirrors the action, frowning as there’s a slight burn. 

Everyone in the room is ultra tuned in to Jungkook’s needs at the moment, and soon the room falls quiet as they try to decipher what is happening to cause discomfort to the maknae. 

Taehyung, who sits beside Jungkook and has been preparing for this all morning, leaps into action. Quickly rolling up Jungkook’s sleeve, he watches as the good morning! tattooed onto his arm begins to fade until it’s hardly visible. 

Jungkook doesn’t dare breathe, simply looking at the poor girl who has suddenly gone very pale. Slow enough to not startle her, he motions for her to show him her arm. 

“Did you happen to get a soulmate mark recently?” Taehyung asks, completely unaffected by the situation. The girl nods slowly, coming back to life as she pushes up her sleeve. 

Sure enough, there’s the faded word, mhmm. Looking up at Jungkook with wide eyes, he delights in the way her frown smooths out into a radiant smile. He scrunches his nose at how adorable she is. 

“I can’t believe those were our first words,” she utters out, laughing softly. “Do you have any idea how many times people say ‘mhmm’? That’s not even a real word!”

Jungkook, unable to control the giddiness he’s feeling, jumps up from his seat and slides over the table, making the entire room squeal and laugh at the action. He hardly hears them though as he comes closer to his soulmate. 

There’s a laugh that can only be described as joyful that rumbles through his chest as he looks down at his soulmate. 

“For as long as I live, I’m never telling another person good morning.”

masterlist

wow shoutout to @baepsaetay​ for eating with me and making me realize that Baekhyun is my boy

[marigoldvance]

Trick or Treat 17

Harlequin!Kee 'verse

prompt: (Belated Trick) They're starting a coven.​

note: once again, i've taken liberties with this prompt. because who am i to argue with the lads? 👀

There was something happening in Fíli’s kitchen. This much he knew. There’d been cackling, singing that sounded dreadfully akin to chanting, ingredients fetched and passed about before being thrown into a large, cast-iron thing Fíli was reluctant to call a cauldron but what the fuck else could it have been!? Thick steam bubbled out of it like smoke which carried a funny smell throughout his flat. Possibly the entire top floor. Possibly the entire building.

See, the thing was, Kíli had made friends. Or, as Fíli told it, Kíli had met a group of four women at the precinct – there to give their statements about a man who had gone missing (each account sounded more suspicious than the last, but Fíli and Bard hadn’t been able to shake loose anything beyond reasonable doubt against them) – and had charmed them into fits of giggles and coos. They’d instantly adopted Kíli as one of their own, sweeping him into shopping trips and coffee meetups and girls’ night out at various clubs. All of that was fine and dandy until they began to manifest at Fíli’s front door. Somehow. Without a key or a call through the intercom.

In a moment of crisis, Fíli did the only thing that made sense: He called Bard to complain.

“Obviouslythey’re witches Fíli,” Bard gruffed, “What other Creature carries around that much sage!?”

“One that’s a chef?” Fíli attempted, poorly.

Bard’s eyeroll was severe enough that Fíli felt it vibrate down the line and ricochet in his ear.

Fíli released a hard breath and pinched his eyes, begging the powers that be for patience. He had a resonating feeling that Kíli had known the entire time who he was cavorting with, the twat, and was doing this as some form of retaliation for Fíli’s refusal to join him for that ballet class he’d been keen on last month.

“You should’ve just gone, brother.” Bard said, reading his mind.

“Is it possible to just—”

“Not a chance.”

“—just one day, I’m only asking for—”

“Not going to happen.”

Fíli sunk into his sofa, grabbed and hugged a pillow to his front, “You couldn’t just find it in yourself to lie to me once, could you?”

A pause.

The silence extended.

“No.”

“You’re the fucking worst.” Fíli deadpanned.

He hung up just as the kitchen doors opened, the aroma of fuck knows how many herbs billowing out ahead of the four women and Kíli, all dressed in black head to toe, though each of their styles were vastly different. Fíli hadn’t bothered to learn their names, hopeful that they were as much of a phase as the sommelier venture had been. There was Tall One, Big Tits, Claws and Pinhead. And Dipshit, Fíli tacked on, narrowing his eyes at Kíli who ignored him with his happiest face.

“We’re going out.” Kíli announced, flouncing across the living room to grab his wallet from the coffee table.

Fíli stood, dropped the pillow behind him, and stalked over to his Harlequin, saying in a hush, “Can I have a word first?”

Kíli raised a deigning brow at him and signalled to the women to wait for him in the hall.

“Don’t be long!” Big Tits called over her shoulder.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Fíli demanded, “What the fuck, Kee?!”

Kíli tipped his head, eyes widening in false innocence, “What the fuck what?”

“What the fuck is all this about!? You understand they’re witches, don’t you?”

“Obviously, they’re witches, Fee, Christ.” Kíli glowered.

Fíli wanted to pull his hair out, “You hate witches! And now, what, now you’re joining a coven!?”

Kíli pursed his lips and crossed his arms, put his weight on one foot and jut out his hip with attitude.

“I don’t hate them as much as you do,” Kíli admitted, curling his lips into a nasty smirk.

Fíli stared, dumbstruck.

“Are. You. Serious?”

“As arsenic.” Kíli answered darkly. He examined his nails, “This is what you get when you decide not to take me seriously.”

“Kíli, a ballet lesson wasn’t going to improve my performance in the field.” Fíli groaned as he explained his reasoning for the umpteenth time.

Immediately, Kíli burst, “You don’t know that, you wouldn’t even try!”

“Are you actually telling me that if I take the stupid lessons with you, you’ll quit the potion-making and,” Fíli waved wildly, encompassing all of Kíli and the terrible fashion he’d allowed the women to dress him in, “All this?!”

Kíli blinked, slow and pretty, “Wear the tights and I’ll even get that confession you were looking for.”

Fíli stopped moving altogether; stopped breathing, blinking, his body sodding ceased all autonomic function. Then, he erupted back to life, shouting to the room at large, “I fucking. Knew it!!!” He began to pace between the furniture, listing off inconsistencies on his fingers.

---

Three weeks later, the man’s body was recovered, the coven was in custody, and Fíli was prancing like a gazelle around a studio with too many mirrors and too many cougars, all his bits accentuated by the immorally thin fabric of the tights Kíli had had to help him into.

The fact that his field performance did improve was going with him to the grave.

[ignorantarmiesclashbynight]

Whumptober 2021 Day 11: just keep swimming | drowning

It ain't his fault the stupid kid can’t swim.

In fact, the thought that he might not be able to doesn’t even cross his mind. 

Thing is, Arthur grew up on a wagon, and if you wanted to survive you followed the river: water for drinkin', for cookin', for washin'. And in between, for playin'. His mama used to joke that he swam before he walked, as natural to him as a fish, so he just assumed it was something everyone could do. 

Ain't his fault it’s one more thing the kid’s bad at. Little Johnny golden boy who constantly needs Arthur to clear up his latest disaster. Dutch and Hosea think it’s funny, until the kid gets caught doing a little light shoplifting in the general store and ends up getting chased through the town they've spent two weeks casing to rob. So they task Arthur with keeping the boy out of the way for the afternoon, which means he gets to miss out on the job, too. And he can’t even hang around camp because the little demon managed to put three whole live frogs into the coffee pot and he thinks Grimshaw might actually murder his scrawny ass this time. 

So it’s just Arthur and the petulant twelve year old, sitting aimlessly by the river, far away from anyone and everyone, where the only harm he can do is scaring off the ducks.

They've been there all of two minutes and the kid’s already pestering him for something to eat. As if his satchel is some bottomless receptacle of snacks for a teenager who can somehow put away as much as a draft horse.

He tries to teach the boy something useful. Points out burdock root and sage and milkweed; collects bulrushes for the horses, mushrooms for the stew. Even tries making a fishing line out of some string he finds in his pocket, but the kid is only interested in throwing rocks into the river like he’s trying to hurt it. 

"How long we gotta stay here?" John gripes.

Arthur sighs, thinking just the same thing. "Long as it takes."

The boy scowls in the general direction of the town—where Dutch and Hosea are busy concocting a scheme to empty every safe in every backroom within a single day.

"We should be with 'em, helpin'," John says, sour as a crabapple. 

"Yeah? Because you're so helpful, gettin' yourself into trouble all the damn time?" He shakes his head. "Got a lot to learn before you can ‘help’…"

Arthur flicks a bit of pondweed off his boot. He's aiming for the kid but it goes wide and lands on the pebbles at his feet.

John scowls at him, even so. "When you gonna teach me to shoot? And not with a pistol. I mean with a rifle."

Arthur lets out a throaty laugh. "Oh sure, I can see that plan going just dandy. And besides, you're too small. Knock-back'd throw your shoulder right out of its socket."

"Would not."

"Would too."

"I shot a gun before, you know."

"I know." Arthur rolls his eyes. Flicks another stripe of pondweed at him.

"Shot a man before, too."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard the story a hundred times. Go tell the fish."

He still isn't sure if it's true or not; that John killed a man before he was ten years old. It makes him a little sick to think of, and the boy's so full up with desperate bravado he figures even if it ain't a lie, it likely happened a lot different to the way he tells it. 

A pause. The kid's scowl deepens. "Bet I'm a better shot than you."

Arthur gives him a tolerant smirk. "I’ll tell you what. How 'bout I get you one of them little toy bows and arrows? Then you can show us all your infamous deadly aim. Maybe catch a few squirrels and make yourself useful for a change..."

Kid’s scoots away, up to his feet, kicking stones into the shallows. "Shut up."

"I will, when you stop being a brat."

"Why don’t you stop being such an ass-faced know-it-all?"

A laugh bursts out of him. "Ass-faced? I know I ain't much to look at, but have you seen yourself lately? Filthy as a dog with the mange. I’m surprised Grimshaw ain’t dunked you in the dish bucket yet…"

“She can try,” the kid growls darkly, which makes Arthur laugh even harder, which makes the kid even more furious.

“What you gonna do, bite her?” Arthur snorts. “Though I wouldn’t put it past you. When the hell you gonna join the human world, huh? Or should we set you free to roam the wilds instead?”

He scoops out a particularly slimy bit of pondweed from under a rock and this time his aim is true, sticking to the side of the kid’s face with a satisfying slap.

“Fuck you, Morgan!” John snarls, ripping off the weed and tossing it back at him. It misses, by several feet, so he snatches up a stone instead, aiming for Arthur's head.

He dodges it easily, scrambling to his feet as the boy grabs another. He’s enjoying himself for the first time all day and drops into a defensive stance, ready to teach the little shit a lesson.

“Maybe I’ll do Grimshaw a favour ‘n’ give you a bath right now...” he grins, darting forward and grabbing the boy by the scruff of his collar.

The kid struggles wildly but Arthur’s other arm wraps all the way around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He’s just a bony, skinny thing, still catching up on years of scavenging for scraps, but Dutch says the rough-housing’s good for him. Says it’s what brothers do.

John’s screaming every curse he knows, kicking back at his shins, wriggling like an eel, but Arthur hangs on, taking a few staggering steps towards the river. He was only planning on dumping the boy into the shallows—make him ride home with wet breeches—but he’s forgotten just how dirty the kid fights when’s cornered and suddenly there’s a sharp pressure on his forearm as John sinks his teeth into him.

Arthur gapes at the sight for a second, before the pain of it hits—and the outrage.

Alright, if that’s how you want it…

And with a wide, swinging arc, he tosses the kid right into the river.

Ain’t his fault it’s deeper than it looks.

He thought it’d only be about waist height but the boy plunges into the water with a comical sploosh and the current sweeps him into the middle of the river, where it runs fastest. There’s a brief flail of limbs, a garbled yell, and John goes under. And he doesn’t come back up again. 

Shit. 

Arthur wades out after him, scanning the water, seething in a breath at the shock at how cold it is, the strength of the current just a few feet in. It looked so placid from the bank.

He’s pretty sure the kid is just playing a trick—‘bout to pop back up behind him and leap onto his back, shove a handful of pondweed down his shirt or something. But he’s silently counting in his head and a long ten seconds go by, then twenty, thirty, and he isn’t sure just how long a person can hold their breath for. Even for a prank. 

And then, from way downstream there comes an almighty splashing. A darting glimpse of dark hair above the surface before it’s gone again. 

Shit, shit, shit.

Arthur launches himself into the water, legs kicking hard behind him, arms scything through the surface as he closes the distance, stroke by stroke, trying to keep his eyes on the spot where he last saw the kid. But there’s no sign of him, just the surging rapids and the squall of the water, deafening in his ears.

The panic grips at him but he doesn't have time for it, drawing in the deepest breath he can and jack-knifing into a dive. 

The current is vicious beneath the water, defying the laws of gravity, buffeting him every which way. He can't see a damn thing through the churned up mud. Can barely control his own body. And it’s all he can do to right himself and kick back up to the surface before he runs out of air.

He flounders for a moment. It’s all happening too fast. He didn’t mean for this. Didn’t want this. He'd only meant to give the kid a fright. Teach him a lesson. But not this...

His next breath judders on the way in but he holds it tight and ducks back under.

This time he doesn’t try to fight the force of the flow, letting it take him where it wants, peering through the murky water with a focus so intense it makes his head feel fit to burst. The need to breathe burns in his chest but he can't give up; knows he's running out of time.

And there, maybe ten feet away, a spiralling figure, limbs waving like a rag doll. 

Arthur’s stomach clenches, expelling all the air in his lungs—some in-built reflex to yell for the kid—but all that comes out is bubbles.

He reaches him in a few kicks. Grabs him round the middle and heaves upward, cursing the slowness of moving underwater, every second deadly.

He breaks the surface with a gasping breath but the river’s deep here and now he’s fighting the churning current with a limp body to hold onto. He doesn’t have time to check on the kid—it’s all he can do to keep his legs moving, reaching sideways, one heavy stroke at a time, his other arm clinging around the kid’s skinny chest. And he’s never been so grateful to feel ground under his feet as his boots finally scuff the riverbed.

He drags the boy out by his armpits and lays him out on the bank, collapsing beside him, shivering with adrenaline. For a long, terrible second, the kid lies still and pale, and Arthur can hear the blood pounding in his own ears like the relentless rush of the river, but then water spurts out of John’s mouth and nose and he’s choking more than breathing but he’s alive.

Relief and anger and a hysterical edge of laughter flood Arthur’s chest as he turns the boy on his side, thumping him on the back until he pukes up half the river.

It's a long while before the kid is able to haul in a clean breath and when he does it still comes out coughing. Maybe a bit of sobbing, too, though he tries to hide it, curling in on himself, hair plastered to his face.

Arthur keeps on patting his back, slower and slower as the kid’s convulsions calm to a trembling, until he’s just holding a hand there, not quite wanting to let go yet.

“Scared the shit out of me, kid,” he murmurs, letting out the nervous laugh that’s been bubbling up inside of him.

John rolls over, pulling himself up to sitting on shaky arms, and turns to fix Arthur with a dark-eyed stare, more furious than he’s ever seen him.

The boy shoves him, the flat of his hand slamming into his chest. He does it again, rising up onto his knees to get more force behind it. Arthur tips backwards, catching himself on his hands, leaving himself open to the attack he can see coming, but he doesn’t bother to stop it. Lets it come, the way it needs to.

And then John’s on top of him with a ragged war cry, grabbing fistfuls of Arthur’s shirt and slapping him around the shoulders, the head, the face. And Arthur lets him, until the kid’s hands curl into fists and he lands a staggering blow against his ear, sending the world spinning.

He reckons he deserved it, but there’s a limit.

He snatches the boy’s wrists out of the air and holds them still. “Alright, enough. I’m sorry.”

The rest of John’s body keeps fighting, writhing in his grip, his face screwed up with blind rage. “You son of a bitch…”

“Yeah, I know. I’m an ass-faced bastard.”

Arthur hangs on, lets the kid wear himself out. And he does, a few moments later, sagging boneless and heavy with the weight of his water-logged clothes.

Arthur lets him go—but slowly, just in case he’s got a second wind in him. “I fished you out, didn’t I?” he offers.

John slumps back down onto the bank with a sullen humph. Won’t even look at him. And for a second, Arthur sees both the boy he is and the man he’ll become—how vulnerable and how fierce.

He sits beside him with a long sigh.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t…” he starts, gesturing jerkily at the river. “I mean, I can teach you if you–”

“Shove it up your ass, Arthur.”

“Alright then.”

He shuts his mouth. Maybe he’s been a little hard on the kid, lately. Maybe John's just looking for his place, trying to be one of the men, trying to prove himself. Arthur was a different kind of twelve-year-old—more scared than ferocious—but maybe there are different kinds of showing fear, too. Maybe acting like a rabid raccoon is one of ‘em.

They sit in silence for a couple minutes, synchronising their shivering, watching the tumble of the river go by. He resists the urge to put an arm around the boy. Too soon for that yet, he thinks. But his arm flexes with the thought of it and he frowns in surprise as a bloom of fresh red seeps through his shirtsleeve. It stings and he can’t remember why. And then he does, pulling back the fabric to reveal a neat little curve of toothmarks, deep enough to draw blood.

He stares at it for a second. Hears a little snort of amusement from beside him.

“You bit me,” he says dazedly. “You really are feral.”

When he looks sideways, the kid’s grinning. Arthur gives him a little shunt with his shoulder and John shunts him back in a peaceable kind of way. The way brothers do.

“Least Grimshaw won’t make me take a bath now,” the boy says with a shrug.

Arthur grunts and pokes at his bruised forearm. “Yeah, well. You’re welcome.”

And just when he thinks perhaps they’ve reached a tentative truce, a cold clump of pondweed comes slithering down the back of his collar…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I mean, how could I pass this one up? Because it is 100% canon that Arthur lobbed John into a river at least once.

Also on AO3! Requests more than welcome (prompt list is here)

[thekingswench]

dearxeden​:

Anthony wasn’t one to dress up like a dandy, doesn’t even own a full suit and tie attire. In the untouched back of his closet there was a suit jacket from over twenty years ago… rumour has it that there was a time he fitted in there, but his now broad, muscular shoulders didn’t allow that anymore. Ultimately, he was given by the bureau a tailored suit, black on black, a very classy, but modern cut. It wasn’t comfy, he didn’t felt like himself, but knowing his partner was going to suffer far worse … well it made the situation a tad bit more amusing than thought at first.

Stepping into her rooms, he wasn’t able to suppress his cheeky grin. Lilith in a dress, it was so wrong, but exactly the humour he needed right now before the serious matter of the mission started. Anthony could read the mood in the room as he approached her. “Who are you? And where the fuck did they leave Lilith? I swear to God she was suppose to be on this mission.” He mocked her before doing as asked. “Take a deep breath.” Anthony told her to before he zipped her up. It was a tight fucking dress, formfitting would be an understatement. “You look …. perfect for the mission. Just need to work on the attitude later, missy. Just imagine you are wearing something that isn’t this thing.” He pointed at her dress.

@dearxeden; continued from HERE

Blowing a breath out between puffed cheeks, Lilith swallowed down her ire for a few moments. Just barely. Anthony was teasing her, and she knew that. If this had been earlier on in their partnership, she'd have ripped him a new one. Now, though, she just flipped him off as she turned, sucking in a deep breath so he could get the zipper up the rest of the way. It had been too awkward for her to reach between her own shoulder blades.

Smoothing a hand down the front once it was on all the way, Lilith took a step forward, wiggling the dress down her hips a bit. "Bloody thing almost shows the knife," she muttered darkly, turning her heel out to get a look at where she'd placed the only weapon she could reasonably fit under this dress.

It was a tight fit, to say the least.

Catching sight of Anthony in the mirror, a smirk curled around the edge of Lilith's mouth. She turned, then, and sauntered around her partner, drinking the sight of him in, amusement on her face. "Well. At least we're both highly uncomfortable," she said at last, stopping in front of him, smiling briefly at his roundabout compliment. "Your tie is crooked, though. Looks like a five year old did it," she chided, clicking her tongue as she reached up to fix it.

It only took her a few moments before a perfect Windsor sat at the crest of Anthony's throat, and Lilith nodded in approval at her own work.

[loki-sun]

WHY AM I JUST NOW FINDING OUT ABOUT THE ORIGINAL SCRIPT FOR THOR 1????? IT WAS WRITTEN IN 2007 BY MARK PROTOSEVICH 

LIKE, IT’S SO DIFFERENT?

(Link to the pdf doc)

- the movie wouldn’t have been set in present time but during the time of vikings?

- Loki was only half frost giant, his mother was enchantress, so he was never blue at all, and was never considered a runt. When Odin finds him, he nearly kills him with a knife but then realizes he can’t because he looks aesir

- Loki and Thor weren’t able to fight and hurt each other because Odin and Frigga cast a spell on them when they were little

- there was Balder (and Nana) who was a friend and a mentor to Thor and Loki and Thor kills him which causes him to be banished to Midgard

-Odin was actually terrified of Thor’s thirst for glory and power and had doubts in him

- there’s Karnilla, (who’s basically more Sigyn, but still, she’s there)

- there’s no Jane, Darcy, Erik or SHIELD. Thor ‘befriends’ a viking farmer named Eiric tho

- both Thor and Loki have love interests, Thor is paired with Sif and Loki with Karnilla.

-Thor is kinda disrespectful to Sif and she slaps him bc he think she should be impressed by him and says she should kiss him etc....she slaps him instead

- also Loki and Karnilla have a steamy, lovemaking scene

- Karnilla is pregnant with Loki’s children

- Thor is captured and enslaved by the vikings on earth and has to compete to find mjolnir which is disguised as a stick

- Loki has closer relationship with Odin than with Frigga and Odin actually truly cares for him? like, he gives him Asgard and all and it’s revealed Frigga always had doubts in Loki

- Loki doesn’t hate frost giants, he accepts he’s one of them, doesn’t want to hurt or kill them and he sides with them

- Loki’s not angry about being a jotun, but because Odin and Frigga lied to him his entire life, killed his real father who had no quarrel against Asgard, stole things from Jotunheim and started a war with jotuns.

- Sif is a daughter of Heimdall

-Loki has a brother and a sister, who is a total sweetheart and is thrilled when she finds out Loki’s alive

- at the beginning Thor is a lot like Hela, he’s arrogant, power hungry, war loving and even Odin is afraid of what he could become. he’s really disrespectful towards Sif (who even slaps him) and Balder (and Loki calls him out on that) but he goes through some serious character development. even though Thor then realizes Loki tricked him and had a hand in his banishment, he doesn’t blame him for Balder’s death because it was his own doing and Loki knew what was in his heart. ambition, pride, vanity, the need for glory.

- Thor is one year older than Loki

- Loki has no ill feelings towards Thor and loves him and idolizes him

- there’s a scene where Loki, after finding out about his heritage, goes to his chambers, gets naked and self harms by trying to burn off a birthmark that indicates he’s one of the jotun royal family members

- Thor is gifted mjolnir by Ivaldi and after Odin banishes Thor he orders Ivaldi to give mjolnir to Loki, but Ivaldi disobeys Odin, enchants mjolnir and sends it to earth disguised as a stick

 - Loki and Karnilla resurrect Malekith

- odinsleep is something no one but Odin, Frigga and Balder knows about, so just before Odin goes out, he explains it to Loki who then uses that knowledge to trick asgardians into thinking Odin’s dead

-Odin apologizes to Loki for all the lies and he begs him to punish him, and leave everyone else be.

- Loki literally dusts one of the einherjar…like the whole Thanos snap thingy? he can do that.

-Loki uses only magic, he’s like on another level power wise, he can even manipulate fire, water, ice... and levitate

- Thor nearly dies when a berserker cuts him but Sif heals him.

- after killing Loki’s brother, Thor tries to make peace with Loki, that they could forget the past, start anew etc and Loki is a bit touched, admits that he wishes he could and then he and Karnilla escape to Midgard and Thor becomes a protector of the nine realms.

- Karnilla enchants a prophecy while she’s pregnant that her and Loki’s unborn children will cause Ragnarok

 - the focus is more on Loki than on Thor, even though the movie is literally named ‘Thor’. Apparently, judging by what the trades had to say, marvel was very pleased with this version of the first Thor movie, but had to change everything because they estimated the budget would be too big (around 300million)

- also, they literally described Thor as “a well muscled adult with rugged good looks who exudes power and a sense of entitlement. He’s a bit of a dandy, but a confident and skilled warrior who engenders fierce loyalty from friend and bitter hatred from enemies.”

- and Loki as “on Thor’s right is his cherished brother, Loki. Darkly handsome and extremely clever, Loki is a sensitive soul who clearly idolizes his older sibling.”