#also the jimmy glasses they are so wonderful

[enumchase]

i just think he’s neat

(source)

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

anyways on the topic of watcher/listener sausage i think i’ve finally figured out what i think he has going on in there. which is that after a series of jokes spiraled a bit too far he brute forced his way into literally changing his species and is now the same species as the watchers/listeners. none of them know how he did this and as such can’t undo it and just have to deal with him now.

this would technically make him a watcher, which he is for a while, but after a: getting a grasp on the… i guess the word is politics? of the watchers and listeners and b: getting bored, he just starts calling himself a listener and not going to any meetings or anything.

at some point this information makes its way to the listeners who are like “wait when the hell did he switch sides what” so one of them just shows up at his house to get a read on the situation, only to learn that he functionally hasn’t changed. and the conversation is as follows:

listener: what do you mean you’re a listener, no you’re not. sausage: how do you know though? listener: because i’m a listener? sausage: ok, and i’m a man, that doesn’t mean i know every man in the world, you can’t know every listener. listener: i literally- that’s not how this- *sigh* you literally can’t be. you can only be a listener if we make you one. sausage: ok, that is literally not true. listeners wouldn’t exist if only listeners could make new listeners, there had to be a first one. and i am a listener. listener: but how? sausage: ritual. listener: that involved...??? sausage: listener: this is such bullshit, i had to gouge out my eyes to become a listener, you can still see, this is nothing. sausage: *pops out his glass eye* sausage: did you know your process has a lot of loopholes

[skythealmighty]

I COME BEARING A JIMMY DESIGN HC

yall think hes a fluff doll like woody. but i Remember his Old Skin. he is a captain america action figure. to me

might color later but i doubt it

[mead-iocre]

Pay Attention To Me | Leah Williamson x Reader 

synopsis: do you know what's worse than dating a football player? dating a football fan.

warnings: brief mention of sex

wc: 2.5k words

Sometimes you wonder to yourself what possessed you to date a footballer. You weren’t athletic or sporty, and unlike your athlete brothers, you didn’t enjoy any sport enough to stick to it. Your only means of exercise was pilates and the occasional trip to the beach in your cute bikini. 

So how did you end up dating a professional footballer? 

You found yourself thinking about that question as you sit curled up on one end of the leather sofa browsing the Chanel website on your laptop. On the other end of the sofa, with her legs sprawled out and a beer bottle in one hand, sat your girlfriend. Leah was dressed in a grey hoodie and matching grey joggers; her hair was down, which was a rarity these days due to the heat, streaks of light blonde strands framing her pretty face. From your place on the sofa, you are granted the most breathtaking view of the ocean thanks to the expansive glass walls. The horizon stretches as far as the eye can see; the sky painted in hues of orange, pink, and purple. As the sun begins to set, it casts a golden glow over the water, making the waves glimmer and sparkle.

The villa was gorgeous, and exactly like how the pictures showed it to be. You had chosen the place yourself, tempted by the promises of walking out onto the deck and being able to jump into crystal clear waters. The spacious overwater bungalow features polished wooden floors, high vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, and furnishings in soft, neutral tones complemented by cool-tone vibrant accents. When you showed pictures of the villa to your girlfriend, she took once glance at it and handed you her gold amex card. She didn’t even ask you for the price. 

Back to your own question earlier, the short answer was that Leah was attractive as hell. She was also everything you could ask for in a partner. She's got a cracking sense of humour, she's passionate about her job, family-orientated, and it didn’t hurt that she was the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid eyes on. She made sure to spend as much time with you around her busy schedule. She accepted that you were high-matainance, and gladly indulged you. Leah was the whole package. Sometimes as you lay in bed, when the night is still and quiet, you would take a moment to thank your lucky stars that she walked into your life. 

However, no one in this world is perfect– even someone like Leah Williamson.

Your girlfriend’s biggest flaw was that she is a football player–and by extension– that meant she was a football fan.

And that was the problem. 

Today was the 2024 Euros final. England somehow managed to slither their way to the tournament final and will be facing Spain to compete for the title of Champions of Europe 2024. The original plan was to head over to the Williamson’s house so everyone could watch the game together. However, your birthday happened to fall in the week leading up to the final. As a birthday gift from your very generous girlfriend, Leah had surprised you with a week-long trip to the Maldives. Her only condition was that she gets to watch the Euros final at the villa 

Uninterrupted. 

And being the good girlfriend that you are, you were more than happy to compromise. That is until you realise that Leah has pretty much ignored you the entire day. 

Well– maybe ignore is the wrong term. She was acting the same this morning– ordering a breakfast spread fit for champions by the time you woke up, booking a luxury spa treatment for the both of you at the resort, and even letting you run wild with her card at the nearby mall where there’s a strip of high-end stores with names like Cartier, Vacheron Constantin, and Dior. You came strutting back to the villa in your new pair of Jimmy Choo kitten heels, while Leah trails behind you, her arms full of shopping bags– all of them belonging to you.

However, you were what other people would call clingy. You craved attention and affection more than the usual person. Physical touch was your love language, and most of the time, your girlfriend was more than happy to meet your needs. 

But not today it seems. 

She was far too busy watching a bunch of men on telly chase a ball around a field of freshly cut grass to pay enough attention to you.

Finally getting board of looking at bags and shoes on your laptop, you shut it down and put it aside. Stretching one leg over the length of the cream white sofa, you nudge Leah with your foot. “Lee…”

Without even moving her eyes away from the screen, your girlfriend just hums in reply. Rude.

Another nudge with your freshly manicured toes. “Leah”

Finally he blonde turns to you, grasping your foot with one hand effectively putting an end to your incessant poking. “What, baby?”

“I’m bored” You pout at her. 

“Then watch the game, darling” She tilts her head towards the 85” Samsung TV that is mounted on the wall. Her hand was now lightly massaging your foot and your calves, probably sensing how tense you are. 

You groan in reply, your head falling backwards dramatically. “That's exactly what’s boring me, Lee” 

Leah just smiles, but it’s a bit strained. She just wants to watch the game, and you’re making it hard for her to focus. She’s usually used to your indifference for the sport that she happens to make a career out of. You only "enjoyed" football when your girlfriend was playing. You attended all her matches and would cheer loudly for her when she's on the pitch. Whenever Leah would drag you along with to watch football matches as a spectator with her, you would reluctantly agree– after many kisses and promises of shopping afterwards– and armed with the latest copy of Vogue to pass the time. If she wasn’t on the pitch, you did not care.

You sneak a peek at her, wanting to see if she would indulge you further, but she was already turning her attention back to the TV. Stupid tv. 

You rattle your foot that is still under her hand. You didn’t know where this was coming from but you had enough of being pushed aside for a game of football. “Leah!” 

And that’s when she snaps. 

“Fucking hell– would it kill you to be quiet! Can’t you see I’m trying to watch the match, mate?” She gestures wildly at the tv. Her eye brows were drawn together, the skin between them wrinkled. When she looked at you again, her gaze was intense– piercing almost.

You glare back at her, hoping she can feel your wrath from her peripheral since she has once agin directed her eyes back to the tv. “m’not your mate” 

You huff audibly, snatching your foot back from her grasp. You could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside you. Sure, you had both compromised that Leah gets to spend one day to watch the game uninterrupted. And yes, you did get your girlfriend all to yourself during the last five days, but you couldn’t understand why she was pushing you away like this. You were being selfish, but who wouldn't be when their girlfriend is being uncharacteristically mean about it.

When you were in one of your moods, you had a habit of muttering under your breath when things don't go your way, making scathing, albeit humorous, remarks. It wasn’t long before the sounds of you grumbling under your breath could be heard by your now equally moody girlfriend. 

“bloody football…this was supposed to be a birthday trip yet my girlfriend is spending time watching ugly men kick a ball around…we could’ve been snorkelling and exploring the reefs or having sex on a yacht but nooooooo apparently football is more interesting”

Sometimes Leah found it cute but other times, like today, your grumbling was annoying and it was distracting her from the game. The blonde just wants an hour or two to watch football uninterrupted, yet you can't even give her that. She smacks her hand down hard on the sofa, startling you and putting an end to your angry muttering. Leah turns to you and glares. “If you want to keep grumbling like that go do it somewhere else. You’re actually fucking pissing me off. don't know why I even put up with you” She groans the last bit as she rubs her forehead like you were some sort of nuisance to her.  

That did it. 

You were annoyed at the lack of affection from your girlfriend, and the same person that you wanted attention from was now mad at you. You glare at her right back, but your eyes were starting to water and you were getting the sniffles.

Wrestling the blanket off your lap like you were fighting an alligator, you swing your legs off the sofa, ready to stomp to the room and slam the door like a mature lady when Leah grabs your arm before you can move. “Sorry. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, baby” 

You angrily wipe away a traitorous tear as it slides down your cheek, trying to shake off the blonde’s grip but she holds firm. She moves to stand on her own two feet until she’s standing in front of you. Leah crouches down slightly, forcing your eyes to meet her blue ones. She frowns when she notices your tear stained cheeks. “Darling…hey, look at me, please”

You meet her eyes, albeit reluctantly. She rewards your effort with a kiss on your wet cheek. “I didn’t mean it. Don’t cry, please. You’re breaking my heart, baby” 

“Oyarzabal…Cucurella! 2-1 SPAIN!! Time is running out and Spain are nearly there. Oyarzabal hooks the ball out left to Cucurella, who beats a flagging Walker with a lovely diagonal ball into the box.The substitute is stretching ahead of Stones, having timed his run to perfection in between England's two centre-backs, and slides to put Spain back in front. This might just be it for England…”

Shit.

You head snapped towards the tv in shock, your annoyance disappearing. While you weren't personally rooting for any of the two teams, your English girlfriend was rooting for England so you automatically were rooting for England too. Not that you would ever admit it out loud.

You were anticipating a slew of cursed words from the Milton Keynes native, but her eyes had not left your face once, far too concerned about making sure you were okay. You were her number one priority, always. 

Taking a step closer to her, you rub the sides of her waist lightly. It was your turn to comfort your girlfriend. You hug her, pressing your head against her chest to listen to the rhythmic beating of her heart. It’s soothing and familiar, and any lingering feelings of frustration have completely disappeared. 

“The lads can pull one back” You say to her, peeking at the time running at the left top corner of the screen. Your girlfriend still hasn't said anything and you assume it's because she's sad about the score. “They’ve still got 10 minutes to equalise– plus additional time to play.” Just because you weren’t the biggest football fan out there did not mean you didn’t understand how the sport works. 

“Quit thinking about the match for a minute, baby, I don’t care about them right now. Are you sure you’re okay?” Leah pulls back slightly, cupping your face gently, and you lean into the warmth of her palms. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Lee. I was just been silly” You pucker your lips up at her, and she grants your request with a grin. She kisses you once, and then again, pecking your lips repeatedly like she can’t get enough of you. 

You give her one more kiss, giving her a sharp bite on her lower lip before you pull away completely. Leah frowns at that, her eyebrows furrowing in displeasure. 

“I’m going to grab my laptop and watch Desperate Housewives out on the hammock. I’ll leave you to your football–alone– so you can focus.”

“What no. Baby, you can’t leave me when we’re one nil down during a Euros final” Leah gestures animatedly at the TV, the scoreline still showing Spain in the lead. “Stay with me. Watch your show right here with me” 

It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

Without waiting for you to reply, Leah began pulling you by the hand back to the sofa. She sat down, tugging you onto her lap. You just laugh, not even bothering to reach for your abandoned laptop on the other side of the sofa. You snuggle into her, your chest pressed together, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. Just because you agreed to stay with her, doesn’t mean you were interested in watching the match. 

A buzzing from the inside of your short’s pocket startles you slightly. You glance at the screen, reading the text, and then gasp. 

“love, my Chanel sales associate is asking me if I’d like to book an appointment at their store to see their new collection! There’s actually a cute bag that I've been thinking about…"

Leah hums, distracted slightly, not even looking at the phone screen that you are practically shoving into her face. “Yeah, we can get your bag once we arrive back home” 

You squeal, already texting your sales associate to go ahead and book you in. 

“–only if England win it” The typing stops and your heart drops. Your celebration cut short. 

“w-what…b-but, love…” You look up at her to see if she was serious, and to your dismay there's not a hint of playfulness in her gaze. She's serious. Glancing back at the screen, you see England have only 5 minutes left to equalise if they want to play for additional time, but the seconds are ticking by quickly. 

Scrambling off your girlfriend’s lap, you take your place beside her on the sofa instead. You have never been more motivated to cheer for a team your girlfriend was not playing for. Mustering all the manifestation in the universe, and your desperate need for that Chanel medium 25cm double flap shoulder bag in pink quilted lambskin leather with silver metal trim, you shout from the top of your voice “C’mon, England!!”

Leah just laughs loudly beside you, yelling and whooping too. 

However, sports can be a cruel thing sometimes.

England did not end up winning the Euros, much to the dismay of your girlfriend— and probably an entire nation. However, you got your bag anyway. Leah could never say no to you. She would give you the entire world if you asked for it, but luckily all you wanted is a pink Chanel bag– for now. 

More spoilt!reader x Leah because you all seem to enjoy her.

I wrote this the day after the Euros and then abandoned it because I got stuck and experience a writer's block halfway lol. Hope it still delivered.

-- kisses, butter.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Chavs No More

Liam and Josh, two 19 year old mates who were known around their neighbourhood for their cocky, rebellious attitude and distinct dress, found themselves wandering through an area of the city that had been neglected for too many years. As they walked and 'chatted shit' they spotted a disused warehouse with smashed windows and broken doors. It seemed like the perfect place to kill time, perhaps, indulge in a bit of mischief and check it our as a possible place to get together with their other mates for drinking and smoking.

Josh took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the crisp air. The two life-long friends approached the rundown warehouse, its windows broken and doors creaking ominously on their hinges.

"Oi, Liam, reckon we can get in there?" Josh asked, nodding towards the entrance.

Liam smirked, "Easy. Watch and learn."

With a swift movement, Liam produced a crowbar from his bag, expertly jimmying the lock on the door. The two scallies slipped through the doorway into the building; their footsteps echoing in the emptiness of a very large space. The expanse of the space they found themselves in suggested the building's original purpose was a factory, although neither had a sense of what was once produced there. Josh lit up another cigarette, while Liam explored the desolate space hoping, perhaps, that he would happen upon something of value.

Josh stamped out his cigarette as Liam returned empty-handed.

"Liam, let's see if ther is like owt worth stealin'. look ova ther", Josh said pointing towards a set of double doors on the far side of the building.

The two friends began to wander across the former factory floor eventually reaching the double doors. Josh was about to push on the doors, but something was niggling Liam. He was unsure about going any further; grabbing Josh's arm.

"Did ya hear that?" Liam asked, looking around.

"Na, it's nothin'. Old buildings mack noises - c'mon"

That would be the last time that either of the two chavs would subconsciously assess the risks they may possibly face going further into the building.

Josh pushed on one of the doors. The squeaking noise made by the door opening suggested no one had used them in a long, long time.

The doorway opened up to a long corridor. Light emanated through opaque glass windows, many cracked and broken on one side of the corridor. On the other side there were rooms, which has clearly been used as in the past as offices. Most were just empty shells; the fixtures and fittings having been removed long ago.

As the two lads continued walking down the corridor they were so preoccupied by the thoughts of finding something valuable they could purloin that they didn't notice two wheelchairs left to one side. If they had been more observant they might have wondered why there were relatively new wheelchairs in an abandoned factory.

Liam and Josh carried on walking, passing more empty rooms and another wheelchair. Eventually they came to the end of the corridor where there was one, solid door. Unlike the others they'd passed by this door was padlocked. It also looked as though it had been recently fitted. The two older teens were eager to make their exploration of the derelict building worthwhile financially, so there was no way they wouldn't try break through the door.

Liam raised an eyebrow at Josh, who grinned in agreement. The crowbar made quick work of the padlock, and the door swung open, revealing a surprisingly bright, modern room filled with computer equipment. The room appeared unoccupied, but in the background was the sound of technology. All the screens were active; filled with row upon row of green text. There were two huge screens on one of the walls.

Josh was looking around the room; figuring out what they could easily pilfer and get the most money for. What caught Liam's attention was the dozen or so circular platforms in the middle of the room.

Josh tapped Liam's shoulder, "Look at these bruv," he said pointing to the middle of the room. Liam turned around looked to where Josh was pointing.

"What the..." Liam didn't finish the sentence before Josh interrupted.

"What the f*** is this like place?"

"You tell me bruv."

Intrigued by the peculiar sight, Liam and Josh couldn't resist walking over to the platforms, their chav bravado overcoming any sense of fear. The two chavs stood on the platforms, smirking at one another.

Until now they'd not noticed the body-sized, circular perspex tubes retracted above their heads. Just then they heard a motor start up above their heads.

Looking up, "look out," Liam shouted, but it was too late.

In a split second, the tubes above their heads dropped to the floor, enclosing the two scallies inside. Panic set in as they screamed for help, finally realising the gravity of their situation.

Josh and Liam's screams echoed through the room as the perspex tubes trapped the chavs on the platforms below. A weird mist began to seep into the tubes, swirling around the panicking duo. Initially resistant, the mist began to work its magic.

Josh and Liam's screams softened to muffled protests, and eventually, their once defiant voices fell into an eerie silence. The spine-chilling mist continued its work, transforming the rowdy chav friends into docile and compliant figures. As the eerie mist continued to swirl around the tubes, their eyes glazed over. After a few minutes the two chavs fell unconscious, succumbing to the mysterious effects of the mist - their fate unknown to them.,

Once it was confirmed that Josh and Liam were knocked out, the tubes retracted into the ceiling, leaving the room eerily quiet. Just as the last traces of the mist dissipated, the door creaked open, revealing two imposing figures in their early thirties. Tough and athletic, they entered the room pushing empty wheelchairs. The same ones that Josh and Liam had ignored as they walked along the the corridor not long ago.

Without a word, the mysterious pair approached Josh first, effortlessly lifting his limp form and placing him into the first wheelchair. The same process followed for Liam, their actions efficient and practiced. The once unruly chavs now sat, unconscious and passive, in the wheelchairs.

The two males wheeled Josh and Liam into an adjacent room, where a dim light revealed an array of sophisticated equipment. They positioned the wheelchairs in a calculated manner, whilst the transformative effects of the mist maintained its hold on their bodies and minds.

Whilst two chavs were unconscious, one of the males retrieved a pair of clippers. To finalise the process the two friends would go through they needed their heads shaving, and this was to be done before they came round.

Minutes passed, and gradually, the chavs began to stir. Their eyes blinked open, confusion replacing the previous chaos. Yet, as Josh and Liam looked around, their mannerisms had been already changed irrevocably. The aggressiveness and defiance that once defined them had been replaced with a newfound obedience and compliance.

Josh and Liam sat in their wheelchairs, their once-rebellious spirits now subdued. They looked at each other and then took-in their surroundings. The room was sterile, and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead added an eerie ambiance to the atmosphere. The two chavs awaited their fate.

Two shaved-headed males in green scrubs entered the room. They walked over to where Josh and Liam were sitting in the wheelchairs. They released the wheel brakes and pushed the two lads towards a pair of hospital beds. Without a word, they efficiently transferred Josh and Liam onto the beds and gently made them lay back. The once-rebellious duo stared blankly ahead, their eyes devoid of the spark that once characterised them.

The mysterious figures produced a pair of helmets from a nearby table. The helmets had curved face covering visors and were equipped with an array of wires and sensors. The men is scrubs carefully placed the helmets over the heads of the two chavs.

Left alone in the room, Josh and Liam lay motionless as the helmets began their work. Unseen forces rewrote their minds, further erasing traces of defiance and moulding them into compliant, obedient beings. The room remained silent, save for the faint hum of the equipment that orchestrated the transformation.

Once the process was complete, the two shaved-headed males returned to the room. The chavs' minds were now blank slates, ready for the next phase of their transformation.

They replaced the iconic chav tracksuits with sleek black skinsuits. The transformation was both symbolic and practical, signalling the departure from their previous identities. The once distinctive and brash street-wear was replaced with a uniformity that mirrored their new, compliant state.

With the skinsuits in place, the helmets were refitted once more, this time for further programming.

The room buzzed with unseen energy as the final touches were applied. The chavs' once-chaotic personalities were long gone. All that remained were compliant shells, devoid of all human emotion; ready to embrace a new purpose.

In a room filled with monitors, the shaved-headed males observed their work with a satisfied nod. They watched Josh and Liam laid on hospital beds, their minds blank and their bodies clad in black skinsuits.

The door opened and two technicians entered the observation room. It was time. The moment had come to usher the former chavs into the next phase of their transformation.

The compliant duo was wheeled into an adjacent room, where a series of machines resembling MRI scanners awaited them. However, these were not ordinary medical devices. Instead, they were machines designed to augment the human body, turning ordinary individuals into hybrid human-cyborgs.

The technicians meticulously positioned Josh and Liam in front of the metallic chambers, securing them in place. Over a three hour period, the two young males would go through a series of transformations, the first of which would prepare their bodies for the synthetic augmentations to come.

The low hum of the machines echoed through the room as the transformation began. The beds were pulled backwards into the MRI-like machines.

Once inside the first stage of the process began. Metal plates descended from the tubes, fitting onto various parts of the chavs' bodies with precision. Once this was complete, circuitry was added connecting the various metal plates. What couldn't be seen to the casual observer was that under the metal plating, a synthetic bonding was taking place. A bonding that permeated through the skinsuit and into the human flesh.

One by one, an artificial, mechanical limb replaced one of their natural ones. The flesh coloured arms and legs were now adorned with sleek, metallic enhancements, making them stronger and more resilient. The technicians worked with practiced efficiency, their gloved hands expertly activating the cybernetic upgrades.

Next came the ocular implants. The machines were programmed to approach installation of the eye replacements with precision. An implement descended from inside the machine, carefully removing one human eye from each chav and replacing it with the advanced technology. The blue glow emanating from the ocular implants signalled the integration of their new cybernetic enhancements.

As the machines continued their work, the once-defiant chavs had now been transformed into hybrid human-cyborgs, their bodies now a fusion of the biological and the synthetic. That said, other tha their heads, observers might struggle to find any visible evidence of the humans that were Josh and Liam - so much of their bodies now covered in metal.

The technicians stepped back, admiring their creation as the final adjustments were made.

The door to the room opened once more, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow – the former chavs' new master had arrived. With a wave of their hand, the technicians and shaved-headed figures in scrubs retreated, leaving Josh and Liam standing motionless, now fully augmented and awaiting the programming that would dictate their new purpose.

The master approached; a sinister figure with pale white flesh. dark veins and gas mask with eerie blue lenses that looked like it had absorbed into his face. The room hummed with anticipation as the final step of the transformation unfolded. The once-chavs, now hybrid human-cyborgs, were ready to serve their mysterious master. The machines had worked their magic, creating two obedient, formidable entities ready to carry out the bidding of their creator.

The enigmatic figure, shrouded in darkness, stepped forward and issued their first command to the newly transformed duo. "[Hiss] Josh, Liam, [Hiss] your first task is [Hiss] to bring others to me. You will bring [Hiss] your former friends to me. They, too, [Hiss] shall undergo the transformation [Hiss] and join your ranks as cyborgs [Hiss]."

Obediently, the two cyborgs nodded in unison, their blue ocular implants began glowing with a cold intensity. With a calculated efficiency, they left the room, their enhanced limbs moving with a precision that betrayed their former chav recklessness.

Before the cyborgs that were once Josh and Liam exited the disused factory, which was now serving a darker purpose, they donned a Nike Hoodie and skinny trackie pants - so they could blend in. The two friends roamed the streets, scanning the corners and alleys for their former comrades. Their new master's command echoed in their minds, drowning out any remnants of their past lives.

Finally, Josh and Liam located the group. The chavs, unaware of the transformation that awaited them, gathered in their usual haunt. The familiar faces turned to greet their once brethren. Expecting to see Josh and Liam, instead they saw the cold, unyielding gazes of the hybrid human-cyborgs.

[thisphantomlife]

Songs Hozier has covered

Bowie - Changes, Young Americans (see also Trinity Orchestra section)

Prince - I Wanna Be Your Lover, Raspberry Beret, Jungle Love

James Carr - The Dark End Of The Street

The Beatles - Blackbird

John Lennon (Donny Hathaway version) - Jealous Guy (at the goldenplec block party with Zaska)

Ariana Grande - Problem

Warren G - Regulate (mashup with Problem)

James Blake - Retrograde

Tom Waits - Strange Weather

Florence and the Machine - Cosmic Love

Stevie Wonder - Living for the City, As

Sting - 7 Days

The BeeGees - To Love Somebody

Lauryn Hill - Doo Wop (that thing)

Amerie - One Thing

Skip James - Illinois Blues

Muddy Waters - Catfish Blues

Van Morrison - Caravan, Sweet Thing, Domino, Brown Eyed Girl, Saint Dominic’s Preview

Bill Withers - Ain’t No Sunshine

Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know

Demi Lovato - Sorry Not Sorry

Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love

Fun - We Are Young

Paul Simon - Bridge Over Troubled Water

Sam Smith - Lay Me Down

Destiny’s Child - Say My Name

Britney Spears - Toxic (snippet)

The Band - The Weight

Otis Rush version of Willie Dixon and the Big Three Trio - My Love Will Never Die

The Talking Heads - Burning Down the House (Instagram live messing around with friends)

The Staple Singers - Let’s Do it Again

The Weather Forecast 🤪

Ed Lewis - I Be So Glad When the Sun Goes Down (Instagram snippet)

Mavis Staples - Eyes on the Prize

Jackie Wilson - (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher

The Meters - Just Kissed My Baby

Traffic (song originally by Traffic, Andrew covered the Joe Cocker version) - Feeling Alright

Christmas Songs - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Winter Wonderland, Santa Claus is Coming to Town (with others at the Xmas Eve Ball 2015)

Traditional Irish songs - My Lagan Love, The Humours of Whiskey, I Am Stretched On Your Grave, The Rolling Wave (on the low whistle), The Parting Glass, The Lonely Jig (on the low whistle)

(Live) Collabs - that are not Andrew’s own songs

Alvin Youngblood Hart - Illinois Blues

Maren Morris - The Bones, My Church, Girl, The Tree

Annie Lennox - I Put a Spell on You (Screamin Jay Hawkins cover)

Tom Odell - Another Love

Noah Kahan - Northern Attitude

Allison Russell - Requiem, Stop Dragging My Heart Around (Stevie Nicks & Tom Petty cover)

Brandi Carlile - The Joke, Walk On (U2 cover), The Weight (The Band cover)

Jamala - Walk On (U2 cover)

Mavis Staples - The Weight (The Band cover), Keep Your Eyes on the Prize (with Our Native Daughters, Jason Isbell and Phil Cook)

Boygenius - Salt in the Wound

Alana Henderson - Ae Fond Kiss (poem by Robert Burns)

U2 - When Love Comes to Town

Tori Kelly - Blackbird (the Beatles cover)

Mumford and Sons - Guiding Light, Awake My Soul, With a Little Help From My Friends (Beatles cover, with other artists)

Lake Street Dive - Everyday People (Sly and the Family Stone cover)

Rachael Price - Rental Love

Victoria Canal - Swan Song

Elwood (his dog) - Don’t Go Breaking My Heart (Elton John and Kiki Dee cover, Insta snippet)

All the artists at Love Rocks NYC 2022 - Like A Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan cover), Feeling Alright (Traffic cover)

Brian Kennedy (and others) - I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free (Nina Simone cover)

His Dad - The Weight (The Band cover at MSG)

Zaska, Wyvern Lingo, Loah - Sir Duke (Stevie Wonder cover)

Eabha McMahon - Bright Blue Rose (Jimmy McCarthy cover)

Brittany Howard - Feeling Alright (Joe Cocker version cover)

Joan Baez - We Shall Overcome, The Weight (The Band cover)

Christmas Eve Busk 2015

Bono, Glen Hansard - When Love Comes to Town, Every Breaking Wave

Glen Hansard, Imelda May - The Dark End of the Street (James Carr cover)

Christmas Eve Busk 2017

Glen Hansard, Coronas, Imelda May, Liam O Maonlaoi - So This is Christmas (John Lennon cover), The Aul Triangle

Music Groups

Nova Collective - (original songs) Tuile, Closer, Quick Bossa

Zaska - (original songs) In Your Own Sweet Time, Different Light, She Gunk Gunk Dunk A Funk, Oh Yeah

Anuna - with Andrew on lead vocals: The Raid, La Chanson de Mardi Gras. With Andrew in the choir: Jingle Bells, An Uaithne

The Wiggles - Cherry Tree Carol with Anuna

Trinity Orchestra - songs covered with Andrew on lead vocals

~ Queen - Somebody To Love, Don’t Stop Me Now

~ Arcade Fire - My Body is a Cage

~ Pink Floyd - Time, Breathe, Comfortably Numb, Shine on You Crazy Diamond, Money

~ Michael Jackson - Earth Song, Black or White, Smooth Criminal

~ David Bowie - Heroes

*This list may not be complete. It only contains songs that can be found online.

Please let me know if any songs are missing so I can add them 🫶

I’ve not included the songs he sang snippets of on that Song Association interview

[ronearoundblindly]

ooo how would ce characters react if you started decorating for autumn in august? 🤭

Ya know, right off the bat, I can't think of anyone who's downright against it, but some of them would help and some would just leave you to it. One--take a wild guess--would throw an incredible bitch-fit if he tripped over one gd thing in his way, but otherwise...

Um, there's some language but nothing adult-specific.

Most Into Autumn Decor--Curtis Everett

Okay, there's a reason I worded it that way, but I was a bit surprised, too. I would not be able to tell you if this somehow wasn't influenced by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork's "Life Is Short So Make It Sweet" series, but I truly believe Curtis would be equally into decorating for fall/autumn with you. He'd be the most active in finding decor, too, whether he's shopping with you there or just finding stuff randomly. He'd take the time to plan out and execute a whole thing in the house, and he would get the most joy out of sitting in the warm glow.

Honorable Mentions to James Mace, Johnny Storm, and Ransom Drysdale.

Mace will get into it but not as much as Curtis and for a shorter period of time. You best believe Johnny digs the campfire-and-s'mores vibes but is wary of shit hanging from the ceiling or dry stuff piled on the floor. Ransom is obviously into dressing for the season but also likes to find the most expensive version of all decor, so those beautiful, blown-glass pumpkins are a staple. Ran is perfectly fine if you want to repaint the damn walls every couple months to match the mood; he's fine with it, but he doesn't expend much effort.

Most Indifferent--Jimmy Dobyne

He doesn't hate the season by any means. He's fine with the colors. He likes when you're happy, so if the house needs to be packed with pumpkins and fairylights and shit, okay. Don't expect him to really participate in it, and don't bring rotting leaves into the house. Real pumpkins are for eating or outside.

The other reason he doesn't really care is that Jimmy spends most days outdoors for work and whatnot. He sorta just...sees autumn the whole time it's autumn, and that is enough for him.

*Most Into Halloween Decor--Jake Jensen

If you were wondering why I didn't mention Jake earlier it's because he is miles above Curtis's enthusiasm for one specific thing: spooky shit.

Jake isn't afraid to go all-out. He will make the entire house, the yard, the gd neighborhood if they let him, into a haunted experience. This is, unfortunately, to the point where you have slipped on fake blood before and bruised your tailbone. Jake is now limited to the week of Halloween itself for the more dangerous accoutrements like liquids and sharp blades. Knives and weapons stay in shadowboxes or cabinets otherwise.

No, he will not be taking questions about why they aren't the fake, safe kinds. Just let him have this.

**I don't have a name for the superlative that Lloyd Hansen wins but he is the most obsessed with curating *his look* seasonally.

Yes, I even mean more so than our sweater boi Ransom...

Lloyd is also the man who flips the fuck out if a room or the yard is littered with stuff to decorate. If it's a mess (even for a little while) he thinks it all looks trashy and can't stand that, so you gotta be kinda stealth or methodical about doing it.

Most Into DIY Decor--Ari Levinson

Project? Did someone say project???? Ari's there, tools ready, let's go.

Ari's the man who has a shed or garage full of stuff for all occasions. Sure, there are a lot of power tools and mechanic things, but he's also kept track of all the art supplies, cleaned up that hot-glue gun and twist-tied the cord nicely, and sorted everything into bins or some of the drawers in his shelves. Nails and screws for all sorts. Wall anchors if necessary. He keeps a stash of those papertowel rolls for kids projects. Tissue paper and bags for gift wrapping. He doesn't go so far as to color-code it or anything, but it's grouped together and neatly stowed away. He is always willing to participate in building something new, even if it's silly little paper things.

Most Into Autumn Activities--Steve Rogers

I don't think Steve has any issue with early sprucing for the season, but he is definitely planning where the apple-picking and pumpkin patches are and when to go. There may be fourteen different hay rides and corn mazes to get through, but don't worry, he's got a schedule! He's rewashed the thermoses for hot cocoa at the ready. He bought another stack of pie tins just in case. He printed off several new recipes to try this year, and the ones from last year have hand-written notes in the margins of what to adjust this time. So, yup, hang onto your butts because it's gonna get real busy in a few weeks...

Thank you for asking!

Damnit, these are so amazingly fun. Keep 'em coming!!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would...Asks; Ko-Fi]

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 19: Steddie as Dads (Trope Tuesday)

wc: 1.4k | Rated: T for suggestive language and flirtatious banter | cw: Eddie is trans in my Joanie Munson AU and gave birth to Joanie. This fic contains one mention of pregnancy and the possibility of having a baby.

Tags: Steddie Dads, Trans Eddie Munson, Growing Family, Getting Interrupted, Christmas Night, Christmas Presents, Kid Fic

Note: I knew Joanie's Furby would have to make a reappearance after I wrote THIS drabble for Black Friday. Also, I started drafting this fic for Day 3 (Needing to be Quiet) but it ran away from me so it has aspects of that prompt too.

Christmas Night, 1998

“Okay…” Eddie sing-songs, stirring Steve from his very sleepy post-Christmas state on the couch, “Our precious bean is asleep… The old man is in a food-induced coma…”

He skips to the couch and flops down, mussing their makeshift bedding.

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, looking up to find a mischievous grin painted across his partner’s face.

He should have known Eddie was up to something with their sleeping arrangements. He had insisted they spend Christmas Night on Wayne’s couch, giving up the bed in Eddie’s old room to Joanie for the evening.

As Eddie continues grinning like an idiot – and adds a wiggling, suggestive brow for good measure – Steve attempts to smooth out their blankets. He shimmies upright, yawning as he yanks at the corner of the blanket trapped beneath Eddie’s ass.

“Nope!” Eddie says, chopping his hand through the air, “No yawning, sugarplum.”

He dives for the remote teetering on the edge of the coffee table and points it at the television, reducing It’s a Wonderful Life to a quickly fading speck in the middle of the screen.

“Jimmy Stewart, off!” he declares, voice high and nasally in mock impersonation as he tosses the remote to the side.

With the living room lit only by the lights of Wayne’s Christmas tree (decorated the moment they arrived with Joanie), Steve feels his eyes droop.

He scrubs a hand down his tired face, his unstyled hair flopping forward as he does so. Eddie is soon on him, combing it back before picking at individual strands like a monkey looking for fleas.

“How are you not tired?” Steve whines, dipping his head to avoid more prodding.

But Eddie then reaches to remove his glasses.

“Christmas adrenaline, sweetheart,” he explains, carefully folding the glasses and setting them on the coffee table within reach.

Eddie leans back again, elbow propped on the couch, his chin resting against his hand enough that it squishes up his cheek.

“The Furby was a hit,” he continues, his teasing dimples out on full display now.

“Please don’t talk about it,” Steve grumbles, sinking into the couch at the thought of Joanie’s newest toy, now out of the box and operational, ready to wreak havoc.

He can only imagine the reaction the cats will have to those soulless eyes when they get the retched thing back home…

“It’s cute,” Eddie shrugs, not at all innocently picking at the bottom hem of Steve’s flannel button-up, a Munson family relic turned pyjama top.

“It looks like a Gremlin,” he deadpans, “Ready to chew our faces off with that weird robot beak.”

He hopes his frown will also remind Eddie that if said demon-spawn does rise up against them, he can be the one fully responsible for dealing with it. And, now that he thinks about it, Steve is sure Eddie allowing their daughter to watch Gremlins at Halloween surely contributed to her desire to obtain this year’s latest kids' craze.

As they glare at each other, Steve holds onto some hope that Eddie (might) think back to that sleepless Halloween night when Joanie woke up at 2 am in tears and thought Ozzy’s prowling in the shadows was an evil after-midnight Mowgai.

“And where is it now?” Steve asks, breaking their seated stand-off.

“Tucked under the covers with our precious Joanie-Bear,” Eddie says, dramatically closing his eyes with a chirpy hum.

Again – Gremlin!

Steve bites his tongue as Eddie opens his eyes again, those big brown orbs now glowing with mirth like a warmer, more cherubic (but equally devilish) version of their five-year-old’s prized Christmas present.

Eddie clicks his tongue, looking everywhere but directly at Steve as he fidgets with a handful of blankets, entirely conspicuous as he buzzes with clear anticipation.

Steve puffs out a laugh and shakes his head. As always, Eddie has other plans for their ‘quiet’ night in…

“What?” Eddie asks, catching him staring.

He tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy.

“I love you,” Steve replies, leaning into his side.

He looks at the Christmas tree as Eddie presses a featherlight kiss to his forehead.

But the sweet moment only lasts for a split second because, in a flash, Eddie flips back their bedding, the blanket half falling to the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

“Good,” he grins, swinging his leg over Steve’s lap to straddle him, bracketing his legs, “Put a baby in me.”

“Ed!” Steve splutters, frowning as Eddie claps a hand over his mouth to shush him.

“Quiet!” he stage-whispers.

“You be quiet,” Steve warns, smiling into his palm.

“Made you perk up, didn’t it?” Eddie teases, leaning back to look him over and they both giggle away, “Anyway, come on, tick-tick. Christmas miracle, all that shit...”

He hurriedly jabs into his shoulder.

“Need I remind you we are in your uncle’s living room?”

“We’ve done worse,” Eddie offers, raking his eyes over him, “Remember Thanksgiving 1989 when – ”

“ – We boned in Claudia’s powder room,” he finishes, nodding.

Eddie looks off into the distance – or perhaps just right behind them to the wood panelling. He sighs, all wistful and longing.

“Yeah,” he hums, “And you knocked Claudia’s good handtowel straight off the rack and into the toilet…”

Steve leans back and cocks his chin. Well, if Eddie isn’t going to be subtle about it, either...

“Take your pants off, baby.”

Eddie beams and gives a two-finger salute. He quickly begins shuffling about, lifting onto his knees so he can hook his fingers under the waistband of his black sweatpants and pull them down. Meanwhile, Steve lifts their blanket up and out to protect Eddie’s modesty.

Or, at least that’s what he intends to do. Eddie only gets his pants down to his knees when Steve catches Wayne’s bedroom door opening.

Eddie notices too and yelps, plopping back down onto Steve’s lap – hard.

“Don’t mind me,” Wayne says, walking along with the stiff gait of a man with a bad hip (one that he still won’t do a thing about), “Just goin’ to take a leak. My bladder isn’t what it used to be. The older you get, the weaker your bladder...”

“Can you please stop saying the word ‘bladder’!” Eddie squawks over his shoulder, but his uncle simply waves him away.

“I didn’t see nothin’!” Wayne grumbles, “Carry on.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as they both watch in awkward silence as Wayne disappears into the bathroom, a light soon cascading from it.

“Christmas sucks!” Eddie dry-sobs, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder with a disgruntled ‘hmph’.

“Just wait a minute,” he whispers, wrapping the blanket tight around Eddie’s partial nakedness.

Steve moves to give him a reassuring kiss but Eddie gasps, stilling on his lap as his eyes grow wide as saucers.

“What the fuck was that?” he gulps, his voice at full volume.

Eddie jolts again, his hands flying up to grip Steve’s shoulders tight, giving him no choice but to hold onto for dear life – even if he has no clue what’s got him so rattled…

“I can’t hear anything,” Steve says, looking around as his heart quickens.

Eddie scoffs and claws at a lock of his hair, just behind his right ear.

“God damn it, Stevie!” he spits, his head on a swivel as he whips it from side to side, likely looking for Steve’s abandoned hearing aids.

Steve is about to point to the end of the coffee table and thus ignite a squabbling match about it when Wayne reappears from the bathroom.

“What in the heck is that sound?” he grumbles.

“What is it?” Steve demands, looking between the other two.

“Some…” Wayne says, tilting his head in search of the sound, “Machine…”

Steve moves his head about to dodge Eddie as he squirms around in his lap, muttering what he can only assume is a string of expletives as he attempts to search for the noise too without straining his back or exposing himself.

“Damn it, Eddie,” Steve snaps, lifting his partner when he suspects he is about to get kneed straight in the goddamn balls.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’!” Wayne exclaims, bringing a hand to his chest.

Steve finally manages a glance over Eddie’s shoulder to find Joanie standing just inside the living room, her small frame silhouetted by the bathroom light.

She’s holding something with big eyes that appear to be blinking.

Now Steve can hear the robotic snoring sounds that have half the household scared out of their minds.

“Don’t worry, Pa,” Joanie says, stepping forward and holding up her Christmas present, “It’s just my Furby.”

More of Joanie Munson

[bad268]

Hello my friend! I've recently discovered your work for the frog boys and also saw you have requests open (if this isn't true anymore I'm terribly sorry!) I was wondering if you could write something about Pezzy (and maybe the rest of the frog house included if you want) playing horror games with his s/o? Have a good day!

Scared in Love (Frog Boys X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Clearly (I decided to make this part of [Blank] in Love. I could be read alone though. Thank you my friend <3)

Warnings: Horror games

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1027 (about 250 each)

Summary: Horror games are scary, who knew?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Technically can be read alone, but Part 4 <-

~~

Puffer (At Dead of Night)

“This is stupid! All we’re doing is running from a bald guy,” I laughed as I controlled the movements in the game as we ran between rooms. Puffer had been asked to play At Dead of Night. Despite knowing he did not like horror games, he agreed as long as I was there for it. Neither of us had heard much of this game, and so far it was pretty boring. “Am I supposed to lock this door?”

“Maybe? Isn’t the guy chasing you?” Puffer answered as he leaned closer to the screen. He broke his glasses recently, so he was blind for this stream, and that’s the main reason he asked me to join. “Wait, why is that light flickering?”

“Like I know,” I scoffed as I immediately moved toward it. Nothing happened. “See chat, y'all just be hyping up this game, and it's plain.” I turned around in the game and jumped in my seat as some random person showed up. “Holy shit!”

“Dr. Bose was accused of the worst crime possible,” Puffer joked with mock seriousness. “We need to go to the ground floor now to see the police lights!” He took over the controls, again leaning close to the screen to see.

“Maybe you shouldn’t speed run out of the room,” I advised.

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” And almost like Jimmy was listening, he jumped out from around the corner to kill us. Puffer jumped back in his chair, causing it to fall back.

“What did I fucking say!?”

~~

Pezzy (Doors)

“It’s Roblox. How scary can it possibly be?” were going to be my famous last words. I was sure of it.

“I swear to god if one more of these things pulls me out of the closet again, I will throw my controller at the screen!” I shouted as I died once again. 

“Welcome to the club,” Pezzy laughed, “It only gets worse.”

“I’m going to cry,” I joked as I respawned. “This is literally torture! I did not agree to do this!”

“Yes, you did!” Leave it to Pezzy to pull up the receipts in the form of a text you sent him a while ago. He briefly showed it to the camera before clearing his throat, and imitating my voice, “I doubt it’s even that hard. I bet that I could speed run it faster than you.”

“I don’t remember saying that sober,” I admitted as I ran through the doors, ignoring Pezzy’s laugh. “I really don’t. In fact, I think a certain someone stole my phone and texted someone while we were drunk. I wouldn’t put it past you honestly.”

“I cannot believe you would accuse me of such a thing,” Pezzy gasped as he put a hand to his chest. “I seem to remember you bragging about not being scared of anything. You’re eating your words now, huh?”

“Never,” I said definitively. It didn’t last long as, almost immediately, the red skull thing chased me through the rooms. “I swear! PLEASE!”

~~

Droid (FNAF Help Wanted)

“It’s not even that bad,” I laughed as I glanced at chat while Droid stood behind me playing Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted. I had played it before since I was practically a FNAF channel, so Droid made it his subgoal to play it when they hit 5,000 subs. Granted, he did not think it would happen that quickly. “Just wait until you get to the third game.”

“You’re kidding me!” He shouted as he frantically looked around the room. “There’s no way it gets worse than this! You’re capping!”

“Nah, you’re just a baby,” I laughed as a highlighted chat caught my eye.

“You should shove him.” it read. Thankfully, he could not read chat while in the game, so I took this as my opportunity. With a smirk, I stood up and walked around to stand behind Droid. Just as the music picked up in the game, I grabbed his shoulders and he was jumpscared. From me and the game as Bonnie jumped out at him. 

He flung his arms back to try and drab me, but I ducked and ran back to my chair. He pulled the headset off and immediately glared at me. He let go of the joycons as he pointed and slowly approached me. 

“I will murder you,” He joked as he leaned down to be at eye level with me. “I will threaten domestic violence live on Twitch.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I joked back as I raised my eyebrows.

“WOAH! WOAH! WOAH! Nah, don’t even!”

~~

Grizzy (GMod Horror Maps)

“I don’t like the squidward-looking thing or the witches,” I cried as I ran my character through the dark maze. “Why did you mod them in?”

“Because I knew you didn’t like them,” Grizzy laughed as his character followed mine around. “I can remove one of them if you want.”

“Please do,” I laughed as I purposely let myself get killed by Squidward, so I would respawn. Grizzy exited the game to fix the mod as I stayed on the call with him, entertaining his chat. Eventually, he got it changed but did not tell me what he put in. 

“Can I know what was spawned?” I asked as I reloaded the game. I had to update it since the mods changed, and I got stuck on the loading screen for a minute. I thought he would have told me at that point, but no. When I loaded into the game, I saw a hoard of witches immediately. I slowly looked over to Discord to see Grizzy’s face cam, and of course, he’s got that malicious smile. “I will murder you.”

“You always say you could outrun the witches,” Grizzy laughed as his character also loaded it. As soon as he spawned, he threw a bomb at the group. “I’m testing you.”

I screamed as I ran my character the opposite way through the maze, “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“See!? It’s not so easy, huh?” Grizzly laughed as he watched my character run. ”What are you mumbling?”

“California girls were unforgettable,” I said a little louder than before as my voice got higher. “Daisy dukes bikinis on top.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[lupiinist]

i've been on a bit of a dc brainrot for a while, but i also have the non-binary urge to make everything about the marauders, so here i'll be leaving my marauders x dc headcanons

regulus is batman. no, i won't hear anything about it. he didn't lose his parents tho, he lost his brother (sirius' alive, he just doesn't know it yet, lazarus pit, yada yada yada), he grew up with his buttler (not sure if it would be kreacher?) and ends up becoming the dark knight (rich, moved by vengeance, out for blood, but no killing)

james is superman, and i doubt anyone can argue with this one. (look at that man's big brown doe eyes and tell he wouldn't be the biggest superman fan). he was raised by effie and monty, but is the same old kryptonian we know. he rescues kittens on threes, shoots lasers from his eyes and is a big old softie

lily is lois lane. this woman has pulitzers and can change an entire country's point of view about something with 1 (one) column on the planet. she could be the president. she's beautiful. she's smart.

(also, this could be both a clois or superbat situation, doesn't really matter)

remus is jimmy olsen! tired alien bestie, likes to take pictures, wonders how no one else caught on that james is superman because that man can't lie to save his life??? he doesn't even look that different without his glasses??????

back to gotham, narcissa would be batwoman (reg's cousin, full of rage, wearing a bat mask to punch people on the streets? besides, BUFF NARCISSA? yes, please), dating her lovely future wife detective fortescue (alice is montoya, yes), i think she would still be married as narcissa for a while (she Will dump lucius' ass) and go out with alice as batwoman

on the other hand, bellatrix is absolutely harley, i don't think there's even another option? and yes, tom riddle is the joker (ironic for someone called riddle, i know), but who cares about him, honestly?

anyway, rita skeeter is poison ivy!

barty is catwoman, this man steals from the rich people, pisses off his father (crouch sr. would be gordon in this), and gets to flirt with big scary batman (he finds regulus so hot it's a bit pathetic)

pandora is babs, batgirl and future oracle, and i don't know if evan would be the first robin? the timeline in my head couldn't find a kid to be the first robin besides like, nymphadora, but i think circus evan and pandora who lost their parents, and one joined batman while the other became a cop is sort of nice?

on the robin situation, draco is jason todd (it gets progressively more angst the more you think about it), future red hood, and harry would be conner (yes, i know, 'why isn't harry jon?' because i don't want him to be :])

luna would be tim drake. she would one hundred percent manipulate regulus into letting her become robin after the previous robin's death, and she has what it takes to be both a genius and the next ceo of reggie's company. she's just that good.

and last but not least, my favorite ladies:

marlene mckinnon as supergirl, and dorcas meadowes as lena luthor. they hate each other. they find each other hot af. they pin after each other. why aren't they together yet???????

[chirpsythismorning]

OKAY ya'll were wondering why I wanted to know what Coca Cola signifies in Stranger Things and this is why.

This is the shot directly before we get El, Mike and Will picking up their roller skates. We get this happy couple standing against the front of the Coca Cola machine at the (Snacks) counter.

This is then followed by the sequence of El, Will and Mike as they walk away from the roller skate counter.

Which, is it's own conversation...

You'll note the Jimmy Somerville lookalike giving Will his skates, is being low-key checked out by his coworker behind him. They're actually the most in focus bodies initially in the shot, along with the girl unaware between them at the center.

The extra to the left intrigues me. Because he's different than the three on the right. He's a lot more isolated and almost appears to be in his own world, barely acknowledging anyone around him. We don't even see him look at Mike, by the time he puts Mike's skates up to the counter, he's turned the other way already.

But lets go back to these other three bc I think they are meant to parallel certain people...

We've got two employees minding their business on the right, one girl and one boy at the counter side by side, and another boy behind them, who appears to be checking out the boy... Does this remind you of anyone...?

Also I am not laughing hysterically at Mike staring at Will discreetly for .01 seconds as he enters the frame, only to look away quickly, followed by the socks popping up in the frame behind Will at the counter, which Mike forgot/didn't notice bc he was ummm busy and ends up having to go back and get right after this.

THERE! You see that couple again? The same couple they placed right in front of the Coca Cola sign in the shot right before this scene? It's interesting how this girl appears to be pointing at Will in this shot with the closet behind him, while the dialogue is about him and one of the few times that Mike is looking in their direction...

What is going on? Why does there appear to be two women who look identical in the frame right now (curly dirty blonde hair and big glasses)? One appears to have her boyfriend's arm (Coca Cola couple) wrapped around her as they go to put their skates on, directly behind Will, and one is behind Mike with what appears to be another girl chatting?

The thing about this shot and other shots like it (from Rink-O-Mania specifically), is that having a plan for these scenes actually makes it easier for everyone involved. If there are a handful of extras entering the frame alongside our main characters, then chances are they were given a specific direction for what to do in the shot. It's easier for the extra who only has like 2 seconds on screen anyways, to actually be told what to do in those 2 seconds, which in turn makes it easier for the people editing, and so on and so forth.

Regardless of the logistics, this sequence is very likely to have meaning simply because most scenes in Stranger Things hold meaning beyond what is outright told. More often than not, they want to convey a hidden message, and they can do that by hinting at it in the frame.

And so... what is this telling us?

[bellaxgiornata]

Safe Haven [Chapter Two]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Back with another! Reader meets Mikey in this one! And there's also a depiction of a seizure in this chapter. Admittedly I edited this one quick so I hope there's no major errors. I just wanted to post this before I went to sleep! You can find the entire list of chapters for this series here.

Tag List: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @winterschildren17 @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker

Pouring yourself a large glass of wine from the bottle of merlot Birdy had dropped off for you the other day, you heard the television running in the living room–or sitting room, as you forced yourself to remember. Megan had gotten home from her shift at the hospital a bit ago and the two of you had eaten dinner together at her little dining table in the kitchen. While she planned to catch up on some Netflix shows this evening, you were going to grab your laptop and the overfull glass of wine and sit out in the garden and work on your writing. It had been a couple of weeks since you’d truly had a moment to focus on it and you desperately needed to catch up so that you could make your deadlines.

You tucked your laptop under one arm, grabbing the full glass of wine from the counter in the other, and then made your way out of the kitchen. Megan shot you a smile from the couch when she heard your footsteps approaching. Her eyes dropped down, taking in the glass of wine in your hand before glancing at your laptop.

“Good luck. I hope that wine helps your creativity,” she teased.

“It’ll certainly help with something,” you replied, passing behind her on the couch.

Stopping in front of the sliding glass door, you awkwardly maneuvered the things you were carrying so you could unlock it. You used your elbow to carefully slide it open, making sure you didn't spill a drop of wine as you did. Stepping out onto the patio, you used the same elbow to close the door after yourself. And then you turned, making your way over to the table and chairs Megan had on the patio.

You set your laptop onto the table, drawing the glass of wine to your lips as you slid out a chair. From the house just one more over, you could hear the sounds of shouting and laughter. It sounded like they were having some sort of party at the fancy Kinsella house. Brows furrowing, you looked over the four foot stone fence separating Megan’s back garden from the neighbor’s. You could see lights on in every room of Jimmy and Amanda Kinsella’s house. It took a moment for you to remember that today was Wednesday, the day Megan’s neighbor was apparently released from prison. The one who’s bedroom window looked directly into yours. They were probably celebrating his return.

“Wonderful,” you muttered to yourself, settling into the chair.

Flipping open your laptop, you pushed the power button and brought your glass of wine to your lips, taking another drink as the computer started. Tilting your head back, you looked up at the cloudy night sky above you while you waited. Unfortunately there was far too much light pollution in Dublin to see much more than the clouds this evening. 

Sighing, a sharp yet hollow ache hit you in the chest. You’d missed those nights at your last home you’d stayed at in Wisconsin. You used to be able to step out into your backyard and cozy up on your hammock with a blanket. Your mind would go just as quiet and still as the evening around you when you stared up at those twinkling stars. You’d loved that little one bedroom house, more than you’d thought you would. You even went so far as planting flowers in the yard and finding decor for the house, truly making it your own.

But inevitably, like all things in your life lately, you’d had to leave it behind.

A loud peel of distant laughter pulled you from your thoughts, your mind returning to the moment as you quickly blinked back tears. You forced yourself to focus on your laptop before you instead. Leaning forward, you pulled up your email, frowning when you saw an email from your editor. No doubt complaining about you relocating yet again and wasting more time moving as opposed to spending that time writing–which she’d recently been on your ass about. Not that Angela had any idea about what was going on with all your new places of residency–though she knew how much you’d emphasized your privacy lately.

With a frown, you picked up your glass of wine and skimmed through the email, only confirming what you’d already suspected. Rolling your eyes, you took another deep drink from the glass, not even bothering to properly enjoy the expensive merlot before you set the glass down and typed up a fast response. Afterwards, you opened up your documents, pulling up the half finished chapter and scrolling through the pages until you found where you’d left off–and then you paused. You’d stopped writing mid-sentence, having been interrupted the last time you’d sat down to work. Flashes of that evening ran through your mind and your eyes snapped shut. That familiar cold prickle of fear crept its way up the back of your neck.

“No,” you muttered, pulling your cardigan tighter around yourself. “Not thinking about that tonight.”

Shaking your head roughly, you did your best to push those thoughts away, though not before taking a good look around the garden to make sure you were truly alone. But you saw nothing out of the ordinary in or outside of the fenced-in yard.

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” you told yourself. “Relax.”

Shifting your gaze, you intensely focused on the words along the screen before you, forcing yourself to concentrate on the last few paragraphs you’d written. It had inevitably taken you multiple re-reads for you to feel like you’d actually read them, though. But eventually, your fingers were flying across your keyboard, your mind once again lost in your story. And you’d carried on that way for quite awhile, occasionally pausing to drink a bit more wine until the glass was empty.

You had been so wrapped up in your writing that the sound of goodbyes ringing out from down the street caught your attention. Glancing over your shoulder, finally drawn away from the writing you’d been doing, you heard a bit of muffled conversation and the sound of car doors being closed. You turned back around, looking down at the time on your laptop. It wasn’t even that late–barely after nine at night. You quickly found yourself surprised that this big bad Irish mob party for their newly returned member from prison had ended so early. Because, from your experience, those usually raged all night.

“But I don’t care about that,” you reminded yourself.

Leaning forward, you focused back on your laptop’s screen. Absently you chewed a fingernail, re-reading the section you’d just written. Your nose scrunched up as you cringed at the entire last paragraph. It didn’t sound right, something about it felt off. Pulling your nail from your teeth, you lowered your finger above the backspace button, about to erase the entire paragraph, but a light unexpectedly turning on in the house next door caused you to jump in your seat. 

Sitting bolt upright in your chair, you rubbed a hand across your forehead and tried to calm your racing heart. Looking over to your right, you reminded yourself that it was just the neighbor finally going home next door. Which you supposed meant he’d be living in that house after all.

“Not a big deal,” you whispered. “Just ignore him.”

For a few minutes you focused back on your work, rewriting that entire final paragraph you’d just scrapped. But something about it still felt off to you. Why were you struggling to get the words to come out right? With a groan, you reached over to pick up your wine glass only to remember it had been empty for a bit now. Shoulders slumping, you contemplated calling it a night. Maybe some sleep would help you tackle this tomorrow. 

You saved your work before exiting out of your programs and turning off your laptop. But before you could head back inside, the sliding door on the neighbor’s house opened and you froze in your chair at the sound. 

Head turning quickly to the side, you noticed a dark haired man stepping outside, his face cast in shadow in the dark of night. You couldn’t help but notice the way he half-heartedly closed his back door like it was a struggle for him to do so. After, he almost limped along the back wall of his house, his shoulder brushing against it as he moved. Your eyes narrowed as you watched him. Something about his movements seemed off. Was he drunk? Or on drugs?

He came to a pause on his patio, his head tilting at a strange angle as he stood incredibly still. Your eyes dropped down to the twitching movement of his fingers, a crease forming between your brows. Something was clearly not right.

You rose to your feet the exact moment the man collapsed to the brick patio beneath him. A surprised gasp flew out of you, your eyes going wide. With the four foot stone fence in the way, you didn’t have an unobstructed view to know if he’d hit his head on the way down or not. 

Not even thinking about your actions, you shoved your chair back and raced over to the fence. Blaming it on the adrenaline coursing through you, you stepped up onto the little bench Megan had placed against the stone wall and managed to pull yourself up and over the fence, dropping ungracefully onto a patch of grass. Rising back up to your feet, you hurried over to the man who’d crumpled on the ground, your eyes still wide as you took in the sight of him seizing on the ground. 

Seizure, you realized. He was having a seizure.

Immediately you jumped into action, pushing the nearby patio chairs away from the man where he lay on the ground so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Crouching down carefully beside him, you sent him a tense smile. You knew sometimes during a seizure the person could somewhat comprehend what was happening around them, so you figured you’d try to talk to him in the off chance he could understand.

“Hey, I’m your next door neighbor,” you began awkwardly. “I uh, I don’t know if you’re actually able to understand me, but it looks like you’re having a seizure. I’m just–just going to roll you onto your side, alright? It’ll help you breathe better.”

Biting your lip, your hands nervously reached out and landed lightly over the top of his dark jacket-clad shoulders. When he didn’t fight you, you carefully rolled him onto his side with some effort. Next, you slipped your cardigan off of yourself, bunching it up in your hands.

“I uh, I’m just going to put something under your head so you don’t hurt yourself,” you awkwardly explained.

Gingerly you raised his head, gently cradling it in your hand as he continued to shake before you slipped your bunched up sweater underneath him. You lowered his head slowly back to rest on your sweater and then you sat back on the patio. There was nothing more for you left to do but wait out his seizure, so you tucked your legs into your chest and waited quietly beside him. 

For some reason your heart ached at the sight of this man lying on the ground like this. And you knew he probably wouldn’t be thrilled to know he had an audience when he came out of it, but you also didn't want to just leave him here alone. He might need further help. You just hoped he wasn’t a violent man when he came out of it.

It was about another minute before you saw some sign of recognition that a stranger was sitting beside him flicker in the man’s eyes. He blinked slowly a few times, his brows drawing together on his forehead.

“Who–who’re ya?” he asked, his words slightly slurred together.

“Your neighbor,” you told him calmly. “Assuming you’re the man who lives here. You are, aren’t you?”

“I–I am,” he answered. 

You watched as his hand slid along the brick patio, trying to push himself upright. One of your hands flew out instantly, gently resting on his shoulder. When his eyes narrowed at your touch, you quickly removed your hand.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “But you should give it a moment before you get up. Make sure you’re good first.”

“I’m grand,” he stated firmly, continuing to push himself up from the ground. 

“It looked like you just had a seizure,” you replied, shaking your head. “You’re probably not grand at all.”

He blinked a few more times back at you, his hand coming up to rub at his temple as he slowly sat upright. From this close up, without him seizing on the ground and you worried about him, you couldn’t help but notice he was attractive. His dark hair was a bit mussed and you spotted a bit of gray in his beard in the dim light shining out of his house, but you were surprised to find that he had a nice face. Despite the guardedness in his expression, his eyes almost seemed…kind. Like there was something warm hidden far, far back in the depths of them. Which was odd for a man who’d just been released from prison. Usually 'kind' wasn’t the feeling you picked up on. And considering the vulnerable state you’d just found him in, you were shocked he wasn’t responding towards you more aggressively, which only made you more curious.

“I don’t have seizures,” he countered.

“Okay,” you said slowly, “but apparently you do. Because you just did.”

“I–” he paused, shaking his head slowly. “Doesn’t matter. What’re ya doin’ here?”

Your eyebrows rose up onto your forehead before you glanced away awkwardly down at your feet. Heat was creeping its way up your neck and towards your cheeks. Why had you jumped the fence to come help a stranger?

Clearing your throat nervously, you answered, “You looked like you needed help.”

“ I’m grand ,” he pressed.

“You know in my experience,” you shot back sarcastically, “generally when someone collapses to the ground, they’re not grand. So can you stop saying that already?”

The man didn’t answer as he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. A brief silence fell over the pair of you, one that had you shifting uncomfortably in front of him. You should probably go. It was weird you’d jumped the fence to check on him to begin with, this was just getting vastly more awkward.

“You’re–you’re American?” he asked.

Your attention returned to him at the question. He was eyeing you curiously in the dark, the corners of his eyes creased as they scanned over your face. Something about his eyes had you getting lost in them, your mind going momentarily blank before you started fumbling to form words.

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out. You cleared your throat yet again when you’d sounded far too breathy for your liking. “Just moved in with my half-sister the other day.” You gestured a hand behind you to your sister’s house. "Technically it's her house, I'm just…crashing for a bit."

Another awkward silence fell between the pair of you, the man just silently watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You sent him a tense smile before pushing yourself up to your feet, his eyes following your movement. A moment later he slowly followed suit, coming to stand beside you. Heat was still burning at your cheeks under the weight of his stare.

"I should go, this is just–just weird," you blurted, laughing nervously. "I uh, I'm sorry for intruding but I just–" you paused, shaking your head, "–I couldn't just ignore you like that. I'm–I’m sorry."

You turned, grimacing at how uncomfortable this whole interaction had been as you made your way back over to the fence. 

"Wait!"

You stopped, turning your head over your shoulder back towards him. Your eyes dropped down to his outstretched hand that was holding your balled up cardigan. 

"This is yours, yeah?" he asked, making his way over to you slowly. 

"Oh, yes, thank you," you mumbled, accepting the sweater.

You quickly slipped the sweater back on, only just now realizing how cold you'd gotten in your tee-shirt in the chilly evening. The fear for the man and then the awkward conversation afterwards had definitely distracted you from the temperature of the evening. 

You turned back to the fence and then paused, a frown falling onto your lips. How the hell were you going to scale the fence from this side? There was no way you had enough upper body strength to pull yourself up the four feet of stone without something to at least stand on.

"Ya don't need to scale the fence," the man's amused tone came from behind you. "I can let ya out through the front door, y'know."

Chewing your lip awkwardly, you half-turned towards him. Your arms wrapped around your chest as you shrank back from him. The last thing you felt like doing was agreeing to step into the house of a man you didn’t know. Especially one you knew had just been released from prison. 

As if he sensed your sudden shift in mood, his expression lightened. He sent you a small smile, one that looked a little awkward, too.

"I'm–I'm not goin' to hurt ya," he muttered. 

"I uh, don't really know you," you answered softly. "No offense, but honestly I'm not the type to wander into any strange man’s house. It’s not–not necessarily anything personal."

Something flickered in his eyes at your words, that smile of his beginning to twist downwards. He nodded after a moment, his eyes scanning around the garden. He focused on the chair you'd moved away from him during his seizure, walking over to it and picking it up in both of his hands. He glanced up at you, a timid smile on his mouth now. 

"Least I can do is help ya over then," he said.

Biting your lip, you sent him a shy smile before stepping aside and out of his way. He walked over to the fence, setting the chair down beside it before he looked back over at you. 

“Hopefully that’ll help,” he murmured.

You nodded, muttering a quiet ‘thanks’ as you walked over to the chair and carefully stepped up onto it. It shook a bit unsteadily underneath you, taking you by surprise. Your hands flew out to steady yourself against the stone at the same time his hands just barely grazed your hips. You instantly stiffened under the unexpected touch, your gaze falling over your shoulder and down on him.

“Sorry,” he apologized, quickly removing his hands.

“It–it’s fine,” you said, shooting him a tight smile.

Attention returning to the fence, you placed your hands on the top of it before briefly closing your eyes, begging whatever higher power existed not to make you look like a total dumbass right now. Using all of your strength, you managed to hoist yourself up onto the top of the fence, twisting so you could sit on it and throw your legs over the side facing Megan’s yard. And then you pushed yourself over with your hands, landing with a soft thud on the other side.

“Michael,” you heard him call out behind you.

Spinning on the spot, you looked back at the man over the fence separating the pair of you. He looked nervous now, and the way he’d called out towards you had sounded hurried, as if he wasn’t sure he’d wanted to or not. You raised a questioning brow back at him.

“My name,” he clarified, that nervous expression still spread across his face. “It’s Michael Kinsella.”

Hesitating a moment, you wondered if it was possible to avoid giving him your name. You didn’t want to draw any attention from a single Kinsella to you, but not offering him your name might do just that.

“Grace Moore,” you said eventually, offering him the fake name you’d taken to using here. 

Part of you felt bad about lying when you saw the nerves ease from his face at your introduction. Something about lying to him just felt wrong. Trying to push that particular feeling away, you gestured towards the fence and laughed nervously.

“Can’t say I’m very graceful, though,” you joked.

A chuckle fell out of Michael in response, the sound seeming to surprise even himself considering how quickly he’d tried to control it. He nodded, shooting you a broad smile that looked like it lit up his face. For the briefest moment you caught a little glint in his eye, and you felt like you saw that glimpse of kindness you’d noticed earlier shining a little closer to the surface as he gazed back at you. The sight of it had a smile spreading across your mouth that you couldn’t control.  

“I should let you go,” you said, taking a step back. “I was actually about to go to sleep before uh, well, this.”

“Sorry to have interrupted,” he replied. “But…thank ya.”

You nodded, clearing your throat as you raised a hand and waved at him. “Have a good rest of your night,” you said.

“I–I hope ya do as well,” he said softly.

You turned, making your way back over to the table where your laptop and empty wine glass were still located. You picked them both up and made your way back over to the sliding glass door. Pulling it open, you drew Megan’s attention to you instantly. She shot you a grin.

“What?” you asked her.

Taking a moment, you closed the door behind yourself and made sure it was locked. From the couch, you saw the way Megan shrugged a shoulder at you, that grin still on her mouth.

“Nothing,” she said slyly. “Just saw you making friends with the neighbor.”

You rolled your eyes, making your way back to the kitchen to take care of your wine glass. 

“I wasn’t making friends,” you called back to her. “He fell down, I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“So you jump a four foot fence?” she called back.

Rinsing out your glass of wine in the kitchen sink, you huffed out a breath. “It was instinct, okay? I don’t know why I did it,” you answered.

“Well he’s cute,” she said loudly from the other room.

You set your wine glass carefully in the sink, telling yourself you’d take care of dishes in the morning before you made your way back down the hall towards the sitting room. Megan was still grinning at you when you appeared.

“How the hell do you know if he’s cute?” you asked.

“I may have…taken a peak outside when I wondered where you’d disappeared,” she admitted.

You rolled your eyes before shooting your sister a pointed look. “He’s also fresh out of prison,” you reminded her.

She shrugged easily again, that sly smile still on her face. “Wouldn’t be the first one,” she replied.

Your eyes narrowed back at your sister, anger and hurt both simultaneously unfurling in your gut. Noticing how her words had affected you, the smile quickly slipped off of her face.

“Sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m going to bed,” you replied. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Grace!” she called after you as you began to ascend the steps. “Hey, come on! I’m sorry! That wasn’t what I meant!”

But you continued on your way to your room, closing the door behind yourself quickly. Your breath felt like it was coming in short as you set your laptop on the nightstand beside the bed. Throwing a hand up, you tugged at the collar of your tee-shirt. You felt like you were beginning to suffocate. Sweat was starting to dampen your forehead as your body temperature increased as if a panic attack was on the horizon. Making your way over to the window, you yanked it up and lowered your face to the opening, immediately relieved when the cool night air hit you. Gradually your breathing began to even out as you relaxed in front of the open window. 

You knew Megan hadn’t meant to make light of your past, but that didn’t mean it still hadn’t bothered you. Or that it didn’t shake loose a few thoughts you were quickly and desperately trying to shove back in their mental boxes where they belonged. Because you didn’t want to think about him .

A light flipped on in the bedroom across from your window, your eyes drawn to it. Through the sheer curtains you saw a figure moving around inside. Michael, you assumed. For a moment your mind went back to that strange and awkward encounter with him just minutes ago. 

He had seemed sweet, nervous even. Not at all what you had expected him to be. And you certainly hadn't expected him to be a good-looking man about your age. And that Irish accent certainly wasn't half bad.

Your eyes snapped shut at the thought immediately. No, you were not going to think about Michael Kinsella like that. That was a terrible, horrible, awful, no-good idea. He was a danger to you keeping your identity a secret and being able to live here and lay low in peace. You were not going to form a crush on him.

Your brows lowered onto your forehead, your lips curving downwards. Why the hell did you think you were forming a crush? That was ridiculous, you were certainly not–

"Ya doin' alright over there?"

Eyes flying wide open, you spotted Michael. He was leaning forward out of his own open bedroom window, a look of concern written on his features. Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting him to have caught you. Especially not in the middle of the particular train of thoughts you'd just been having. 

"Uh, yeah," you replied, a sheepish smile spreading over your lips. 

"Do all Americans like leaving their windows open in the freezin' cold? Or is it just ya?" he asked.

It took a moment to realize he was teasing you and heat flushed over your cheeks yet again. 

"I just needed some air," you answered. Feeling bold you asked, "What's your excuse?"

“Was wonderin’ if ya were planning to jump outta you’re window,” he replied. “Ya looked…”

You noticed how he trailed off, his eyes boring into you so intensely that it made you uncomfortable. Almost like if he looked long enough he’d discover all your hidden secrets. You abruptly decided to change the subject. He didn’t need to know what was on your mind–in relation to him or the reason why you’d initially needed the air in the first place. Instead, you glanced down at the ground below you.

“Would it matter?” you countered. “Most I’d do is break an arm at this height.”

“That’s awfully dark,” he said.

Your eyes flew back up towards him, a smile settling onto your mouth. “You’re the one making conversation with a woman you thought was about to jump out of a window,” you pointed out. 

He nodded his head, one corner of his lip twitching up in amusement. “Ya make a good point,” he replied.

Another little silence fell between you, your eyes taking in the sight of Michael in his dark green and wrinkled tee-shirt. You could see him better now that he was in his well lit bedroom even if you were both about ten feet away from each other. He had tattoos on his arm that you hadn’t noticed earlier because he’d been wearing a jacket and you found yourself curious what they were of and for. He also looked like he had a bit of muscle underneath that loose shirt of his. 

After a moment you realized you’d been standing there quietly checking him out and your eyes flew back up to his face. Judging by his own expression he must’ve realized he’d been doing the same, his gaze meeting yours only seconds after leaving your chest. You sent him a tense smile, the cold air starting to raise the hairs along your forearms now.

“I should really get to sleep now,” you said, breaking the silence.

You watched as his face fell, the change so miniscule it was almost hard to catch. It looked like there was something certainly going on behind his eyes, something you caught even from ten feet away. There was a sadness that was steadily growing on his face as he nodded solemnly at your words. Megan’s words about Michael possibly not wanting to stay in that house suddenly ran through your mind again and you found yourself wondering if that had something to do with why he looked so dejected. And maybe why he’d continued to talk to you so much this evening.

He was lonely, you realized. And maybe something more than that, too.

“I uh, I’ll let ya get to it then,” he said. “It was nice meeting ya.”

He’d spoken just loud enough for you to barely catch his words. Something stirred in your chest, a desire to somehow bridge the space between the pair of you and ease that pain written on his face. But you weren’t sure why you felt that way.

No, you were not going to examine that thought any further.

“Goodnight, Michael,” you replied, ending the conversation. 

“G’night Grace,” he said.

Slipping back inside the bedroom, your hands reached up and grabbed the window. While you slowly slid it back down, your eyes were locked on Michael across from you practically mirroring your actions. Both of your windows closed almost simultaneously. Reaching out for the curtain with your right hand, you slowly began to draw it close, pausing just long enough to send him a final, slightly awkward wave. He smiled just a little, his own hand raising just a bit to wave back. You closed the curtains the rest of the way before you finished getting ready for bed. 

Though when you finally curled up in your bed a few minutes later, tired and ready to drift to sleep, you found that you couldn’t shake the complexity and depth of what was hidden in Michael’s eyes from your mind.

[variety-fangirl]

Hi love, i read your Jimmy keene stuff recently and really enjoyed it so i was wondering if you could write a jimmy x reader where he gets released after everything you know and the after math after being away for that long and him being grateful that the reader stayed with him through everything yk what i mean sorry if it’s vague but let your creativity do the trick

Grateful / Jimmy Keene x fem!reader

Summary: after being released, you and Jimmy take some alone time to reconnect after so long. He shows you just how grateful he is for you staying with him through everything.

Warning: 18+ NO MINORS SHOO not much, swearing, some intimate touching, vulnerable sad Jimmy, reader loving on and looking after Jimmy.

Author's note: thank you for requesting my love! Oh, this is such a cute idea, love it! 🥰 Grateful soft vulnerable men are my favourite 😍😍😭 thank you so much for reading and im glad you like my Jimmy stuff 😁😁💜 Thank you all for reading and enjoy! Liking, reblogging, and commenting really helps me out!

Word count: 1.8k

It had been thirteen months since Jimmy had been home with you, sleeping next to you, making love to you, or even being able to touch you. After thirteen agonising months of missing him dearly, you'd barely seen him, he'd refused. You'd seen him twice in the whole thirteen months. After seeing you sobbing and just breaking down at the sight of him, and him not being able to touch you to comfort you, he forbade you from returning to see him again. You hated it and regularly told him over the phone, especially if he didn't call you for a week at a time. You were constantly worried about him and sleep had not been your friend. You were sure you'd lost a lot of weight and looked awful from not being able to pull yourself together, you didn't care. You felt like you'd been robbed of thirteen months of time with Jimmy that you'd never get back.

You had been counting down the weeks until you could finally see him, you missed Jimmy more than anything. You had been preparing for his return, buying gifts and treats to make things easier and happier for when Jimmy finally came home. You want to ease him back into normal life after being away for so long. You can only imagine how difficult it will be for him, to adjust back to normalcy. You were going to be the one who picked him up from the jail but James offered to pick him up instead so you could prepare stuff at home for Jimmy. James texted you all throughout the day, letting you know what time pick-up was and when they would be arriving.

You obviously knew the first thing you wanted to do as soon as you saw him, was to hug and kiss him. But, you planned out what you wanted to do after. So, you made a list of relaxing things to do at home. You honestly went all out, James completed the lovely effort you had put in for his son's return and you promised that next week you would bring Jimmy by so his father could spend time with him also. Whilst James made his way to pick up Jimmy, you got everything ready. You got started on making dinner, Jimmy's favourite, lasagne. Along with a bottle of wine for yourself and Jimmy's favourite whiskey. You listened to music with a glass of wine as you got dinner ready, mostly to distract your ragging thoughts, preparing everything as needed.

It was about an hour's drive to the jail so you had time to get everything sorted. As soon as dinner was in the oven you headed upstairs to your shared bedroom. You went into Jimmy's closet and grabbed a pair of grey joggers, a black T-shirt, boxers and a pair of comfortable socks, you led them out on your bed. You then went back downstairs, with thirty minutes to spare and cleaned the kitchen and living room a little. You lit a candle on the table, put on some light relaxing music and just waited. That only took you a total of fifteen minutes, so for the remaining fifteen, you just scrolled aimlessly on your phone to keep your mind busy while you waited.

Finally, you heard the car pull up outside, and you felt tears brim your eyes. You made your way to the door, opened it and watched as they pulled into your driveway slowly. They both got out, Jimmy running towards you and instantly wrapping his arms around you as he picked you up. The tears instantly fell, small sobs escaping you as you held him as close as possible. Your hands gripped Jimmy with urgency, fearing that if you let him go, it would all prove to be a dream. James stood to the side of Jimmy, smiling at the pair of you with such happiness that you thought your heart would explode. You pulled away first, turning to look at James with a thankful smile, "Thank you for getting him, I appreciate it." you give James a big hug, having grown considerably closer to him over the last year whilst Jimmy had been away.

"Anytime kiddo, don't mention it. You know where I am, love you both!" You both return the statement of affection with a smile as James gives his son one last hug. You step inside, leaving the door open so the two can have a moment before Jimmy comes in. You'd watched over the last year how hard Jimmy's imprisonment had taken a toll on his father. The man had struggled just as much, if not more than you over Jimmy's absence. You had tried your absolute hardest to be there for him every step of the way whilst being strong for yourself. You watch as Jimmy steps into the doorway backwards, waving and saying goodbye to his father before closing the door and turning to face you.

"Okay, so I have some things planned. But no pressure my love. I figured the first thing you would want to do is to take a long hot shower and change into clean warm clothes. I was thinking whilst you did that I could finish preparing dinner for us, maybe watch a movie and relax? We don't have to talk unless you want to, you can just go straight to bed or whatever. No pressure with anything okay?" you smile gently, not wanting to pressure him or stress him out in any way, you wanted Jimmy to decide for the afternoon. You noticed the look of realisation on his face, the fact that he could do whatever he wanted, he was free to do as he pleased again. You couldn't imagine how horrible it must have been in there, unable to have freedom.

"A shower and food sounds amazing baby, thank you." You walk over, leaning up to kiss your boyfriend for the first time in 13 months. It felt like magic, like the missing piece of you had returned. Jimmy moans, pulling you closer by your ass until your front was placed flush against his. You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging gently at the hair. Jimmy groans happily, pulling away but not before placing one last kiss on your lips. You reach down, slap his ass and laugh, "Okay, go shower! Dinner will be done in a bit." You turn with a smile and head over to the kitchen while Jimmy makes his way upstairs.

You finished plating and setting the table ready for Jimmy to return, setting some mood lighting and candles for a sensual but relaxing vibe. You hear the soft patters of his feet coming down the wooden stairs and across the floor to the living room and kitchen. You feel soft arms wrap slowly around your waist and a pair of lips pressing gently to your neck. You turn your head to the side, relishing in the feel of Jimmy's touch once again after so long. You hum happily, "Hi," rubbing up and down his arm lovingly, appreciating the affection. "Hi. This looks amazing baby, thank you. But, you didn't have to go through all this trouble." You turn around in Jimmy's arms, wrapping yours around his neck.

You shrug with a smile, "I just wanted to make tonight special for you, some form of normalcy for when you returned because I love you." You place a gentle kiss upon his lips, adding a few more just for safe measure before pulling away. "C'mon, let's eat whilst it's warm." you usher to the table, taking a seat opposite Jimmy so you can talk more easily.

Once you both finish eating, you clear away the table and do the dishes, cleaning up any mess. It didn't take you very long, especially with Jimmy drying them and putting them away. You look at the clock, it's now 9pm, "You wanna watch a movie or head to bed? I'm happy either way." Today had been long and tiring, emotionally draining for you both. You honestly wouldn't mind heading to bed if Jimmy said yes. He nods, his eyes tired, "Yeah bed sounds good." You nod in return, grabbing his hand and leading him to your bedroom. You made sure the candles were blown out and the lights turned off before making your way upstairs.

You both get changed into comfortable pyjamas, minus a shirt for Jimmy and brush your teeth. You had changed the bedding this morning, fresh and smelling like your favourite scent. You both get in, cuddling into Jimmy's chest, leaning on top and facing him. You rest your chin on his chest, near his neck and stroking his chest gently. You play with the strands of hair you can reach and place gentle kisses on any skin of Jimmy's nearest to you. You feel Jimmy's cock harden against your leg, his breathing picking up just slightly. It was understandable with how long he'd been gone, despite the fact he was exhausted.

You move to straddle his waist, grinding your hips slowly against his, your pussy right on top of his cock. You gasp softly, leaning down to kiss his jaw and neck with as much gentle passion as possible. You don't want to rush or pressure him into thinking he has to do anything tonight if he doesn't want to. You push your head up to look down at him, "I want you but only you if you want to." You whisper, stroking the side of his face gently. You notice a look flash across Jimmy's face, making you pause any movement. "God, of course I want you, how could I not? Look at, your fucking perfect." He pauses, taking a deep breath as his eyes begin to fill with tears.

He huffs, "I don't fucking deserve you. Why would you stay by my side this whole time? You could have left me, left all this and I wouldn't have blamed you for a second. I thought you were going to because you are too fucking good for me, baby." He whispers as he grips the back of your neck, a look of pure pain and worry in his eyes. As if he didn't believe he was worthy enough of your love or you staying by his side. But that only made you angry and annoyed. You grip both sides of his face, "why would you say that?! Do you think that I could ever possibly leave you? I love you more than anything, you are everything to me! Not even for a second did I consider leaving you, you're stuck with me okay?" you huff, tears now filling your eyes.

Jimmy grabs the back of your neck and pulls your lips down to his, catching you by surprise. "God I love you." Jimmy rolls you both over so you're on your back and kisses you once more. You moan loudly and grind upwards against him, letting him know you want him more than anything.

[afiniteredwood]

Self-indulgent angsty fanfiction for @hybbart 's Ranchers Apocalypse AU :) I haven't stopped thinking about these guys for a solid month. The number of things I had to change after the first draft because I read the Notes Posts is incredible so don't hesitate to mention if I messed up the details somewhere

(Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron)

Day 543

Sleeping next to Jimmy objectively sucks.

Don't get Tango wrong- Jimmy is wonderful, a sleepy hugger and a furnace of a man, and Tango is never cold during the winter months. And, mostly, he doesn't have nightmares and doesn't talk in his sleep and Tango knows that he does that. Really, Jimmy has it worse. 

But Jimmy is also all ruffled feathers and whimpered noises brought on by elbowed and healing wounds, and the click-fssssssss of the breathing machine, only worsened after his recent battle with pneumonia. It becomes hard to breathe next to him, the farm dust once trapped in Jimmy’s wings clouding into the air whenever he rolls and the regular rumbling of the machine instilling preemptive terror in Tango’s stomach.

Still, on most nights, it is entirely bearable. Tango sleeps. On the days when he does sleep, he sleeps like the still-dead, and on the days where he doesn’t it’s because of the nightmares or the fact he has pointedly not taken his metal arm off, not because of Jimmy.

He always dreams of blood on his hands, spilling in rivulets down his clammy skin. Not what has happened to them, not what could happen, just blood. It’s probably Jimmy’s. 

So when, two hours after he had bade ‘Goodnight’ to the bedroom already full of the sound of Jimmy’s even breathing, he gets up and sneaks out again, it is an unusual thing. Revy notices his loss, curled up at the end of the bed, raising his head once and whining. Tango shuts the door softly on him. Revy returns his head to Jimmy’s thigh.

Yellow eyes open in the muted dark.

Tango’s sneaking isn’t particularly effective. (It terrifies him a little, how easy it would be for one of the undead to kill him now.) He’s so tired he feels like he could pass out at any second, and really, the creaking of the farmhouse with every gentle gust of wind is more than Tango will ever be able to unsubtly make. 

He makes it to the bottom floor, following the moonlight marking a square of light up the stairs from the glass patio doors to his feet. Spring is still only a dream, so the floor is cold beneath him, and he stands on tip-toes to stumble towards the doors. Something wants him out there- something about being one with nature, of just being able to sit and breathe and relax for a blissfully freezing moment. 

Opening the door is difficult with fingers numb from cold on one hand and metal fingers clicking ineffectively over the lock on the other, but he manages. Shit, but it takes him ages though, trying awkwardly to turn the key in the lock with his flesh-and-blood hand and using his other hand crossed over to turn the handle even though the angle hurts. It’s fine. He’s capable of doing whatever needs doing. 

He continues unsteadily outwards, dropping down to sit on the edge of the patio when he reaches it, legs dangling in the empty space below him. The forest is spread out in front of him, the house backing directly onto the wildlife that before-the-apocalypse had never allowed him. Quiet. If the apocalypse has done anything good, it has brought silence. It’s too early in the morning yet for birds, but there is wind through the trees and the sleepy mooing of distant cows and the even more distant, barely audible and mostly harmonious groans of the undead. 

He hooks one leg back up onto the patio and hugs it against his chest, resting his chin on his knee. 

It should be colder than this, really, but it is an exceptionally early spring this year. Already the ground is beginning to thaw during the day and the old seeds in the tool shed have started to smell damp and earthy again. At night and this early in the morning, it is still bitterly cold, but it's not quite as cold as it should be- not quite.

Tango exhales and his breath crystalizes in the air in front of his face. He shivers in his t-shirt and hugs his knee tighter and thinks of Jimmy. 

Jimmy stands at the top of the stairs and wonders what he must have done in a past life to deserve Tango. Something great, surely- he must have been a hero.

There is a certain sharp beauty to the way that Tango is outlined against the darkness with his blue fire and sparks that makes Jimmy think of gods he doesn’t believe in. He’s just sitting there, shivering and exhaling stars, and he looks so entirely ethereal doing it. Totally silent, just the regular hum of his breathing that Jimmy can only see from this distance, beautifully poised, like a beast that Jimmy could startle into bolting at any moment. 

But he carries the same inherent fear in him as wild animals do, and Jimmy frowns. Tango is never usually scared- not how he is now, hunched in on himself with one hand gripping the deck in the way that only Jimmy can see the tension in. He is only ever on edge, only ever afraid for someone else, only ever worried when there is genuine danger on the horizon. 

Jimmy takes a step closer, down the stairs, grimacing at the noise it makes. Tango does nothing, so he shakes his wings gently and cracks his knuckles and breathes louder through his mouth than he usually does in an attempt to not scare Tango out of his skin when he makes his presence known. Nothing.

He abandons any subtlety and follows Tango’s elongated shadow to the open doors, quiet regardless of how much he tries not to be. The doorframe is cold underneath his fingertips. 

Tango might be crying- he’s not sure. Noise outlines him in gold and cyan and it ripples with every breath, peaking at weird times that could be from tears or could just be the wind around the collar of his shirt. Jimmy’s almost too scared to ask- does he really want to know why Tango is crying? Why he’s scared? Why he’s hanging onto the back porch of the house Jimmy found for them like he’s fighting the urge to slip down and run away forever?

Yes, Jimmy decides. Yes, he does want to know. 

“Tango?” that voice says from the doorway, soft as anything. “Are you working on something?”

Tango does his absolute best not to jump, but he’s pretty sure that Jimmy notices anyway. He shakes his head to dissolve the tension in his frozen muscles, turning only slightly to look at Jimmy’s shadow’s head. He wipes his tears on the back of his hand entirely unsubtly. 

“No,” he admits, an invitation bare and raw in his voice. “Not really.”

Jimmy’s exhale casts a faint shadow next to his face in his image on the deck, pluming outwards from where his mouth must be. Jimmy has always had a fun shadow, Tango notices absently- deformed up around his shoulders where he isn’t really, his wings held awkwardly up against the cold. It really does make Jimmy look strange, like some kind of monster, shifting and growing- Jimmy drops down beside him, leaning defiantly back on the heels of his hands and looking up at the sky. 

Tango swallows his heart and looks at the ground, where he’s sure he won’t see Jimmy’s face. Whatever, Jimmy has a face like a deity incarnated into the body of someone who has known what love is, whatever. There are plenty of those around, plenty of people who make him want to hide himself away because all his fire and grace pale in comparison to the solid humanity of the man next to him. 

“What’s on your mind?” Jimmy asks, before the silence swallows them both. 

“Nothing,” Tango says, his eyes on the ground, the tone of his voice meaning ‘Ask me again and I’ll tell you about how I don’t think I ever made my mother proud, and how she’s probably dead now so I’ll never get to know whether I did. Ask that question again and I’ll tell you how there is so little left of her in the world, and how little there was of her when we lived together, and how there was so much more I could’ve done for her that I never did and will never get to do. Ask me again and I’ll tell you that I regret every decision I’ve made since the end of the world, even in and with you and guided by your hand.’

A gust of wind through the trees and a bird coos softly into the open air. 

“Tell me,” Jimmy says anyway, face half-turned to catch the sharp moonlight and to try to meet Tango’s eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

The dog comes pattering out from the house behind them, having followed a few minutes after Jimmy. He shakes himself all over and grunts, then settles down between the two of them and noses at Tango’s hand until Tango gives in and pets him. 

“Big man,” Tango says, smiling, avoiding the question. “Big shake- oh he wants some scritchies, does he?”

Jimmy frowns at him, but pets Revy too all the same. 

“Tango.”

Tango sighs and cannot bring himself to look at Jimmy. Instead, he finds himself looking outwards, at the forest from which one of the undead stragglers could emerge at any time and they would never be prepared in time to defend themselves. 

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re running on borrowed time?” he asks the forest, voice quiet and careful. 

Jimmy says, “No!” and laughs with such ferocity that it startles Tango into looking at him. Revy leaps up at the sound and jumps and dances around them, barking in the ‘play with me!’ manner that all dogs do when the air around them is happy. 

Shit- Tango remembers why he had known it would be a bad idea from the beginning to look. 

With his head thrown back and hair tangled around his ears, moonlight catching on his throat and on the fragments of glass and sand still in his wings, Jimmy looks every bit the picture of brilliance. Whatever god has possessed him has made him beautiful, has made the night split about him and the sun spill from his eyes when he opens them to look back at Tango. 

Tango’s not sure what face he’s making. Something just short of shock, no doubt- genuine affection blooming in his chest and sneaking onto his face along with this new sort of amazement. He feels himself smile and Jimmy's genuine happiness is so damn contagious that he can't help it even if he doesn't mean the emotion behind the smile. It’s just such a strange reaction, and so much more so from someone like Jimmy-

“Why are you laughing?” he still has to ask, even as Jimmy is still giggling into his hands. “Jimmy?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimmy amends, tears in his eyes. “I just- you feel that way?”

Tango has to look back into the distance. Yes. 

“Yeah.”

Jimmy has no joy in him anymore. 

“Oh- I- sorry.” He swallows and returns his hands to the dog, who has fallen back onto the deck with her belly in the air. “Tell me. What do you mean?”

Tango sighs. This was meant to be an emotion dealt with alone.

“You know,” he starts, before realizing how clearly Jimmy does not know. “I mean- we’re still just running from the end of the world. We’re never really going to be safe, are we? We’re always going to be living like this.”

Jimmy tries and fails to not take that comment to heart. Like this- like what? Trapped oh-so-cruelly in the house he had chosen for them, bound by the land nourished by their own hands and the burden of the animals they have given hope to with their presence? Oh, what a truly horrible fate it is, to have to live with one’s friends and family in the countryside. 

“You don’t…” Jimmy casts around for words that won’t come out sour and hurtful. “You don’t want to live like this?”

Something in his tone catches Tango’s attention (maybe it’s the betrayal squirming just beneath his skin) and he looks up. 

“I don’t want to live during an apocalypse, Jimmy. I don’t want to be in danger. I don't like being scared all the time.” 

Oh. Understandable, but-

“We’re not in danger now, are we?” 

Tango frowns at him. “That’s not the point-”

“No, but….” He hesitates. “I don’t know. I don’t think we’re running out of time.” That’s not what I said. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, Tango- a farm and a family and a dog and freedom and, you know, what we have.”

“No- not that we’re running out of time.” Something grips Tango and he wants to say things that he’ll regret. “We’re running on borrowed time. It’s going to catch up to us eventually.”

Jimmy laughs. “Same thing, really.”

Tango shakes his head but it doesn’t matter anyway because Jimmy isn’t looking at him anymore. Instead, he stretches out and lies back on the deck, feet still dangling over the edge, wings crushed beneath him, looking at the sky. Revy squeaks and wiggles over to sit next to him, planting his face on Jimmy’s chest. 

“We’ll take whatever comes to us, Tango,” he says, somehow with so much calm certainty that it’s almost convincing. “No matter what. We’re going to be okay.”

Tango wonders whether that’s a lie.

“Okay,” he says instead of asking whether it is. “Okay. Okay. Yeah.”

Jimmy glances over at him. There’s nothing but uncertainty in Tango’s self-reassurance.

“Trust me.” Jimmy reaches out to touch whatever part of Tango he can reach- his upturned palm on the deck between them, the metal of it cold. “Tango. Trust me. We’ll get through this.”

Tango’s hand twitches towards the space where his other arm should be and he chokes on a pained whimper- shit, fuck, losing a limb shouldn’t keep hurting after it’s gone. Revy’s ragged tail wags between them in his almost-sleep.

“Okay.” 

Sensing the lack of conviction in Tangos’ voice, Jimmy grabs Tango’s arm and tugs him to lie down next to him- well, as close as they can get with the dog snuggled into the little space between them. Tango has never been so uncomfortable in his entire life. He doesn’t move. 

“Tango,” Jimmy says, rolling onto his side to take Tango’s face in both of his warm hands. “I promise. We’re going to be okay.”

Tango doesn’t mean to, but he’s crying again, so Jimmy clambers over the dog to crush Tango in an embrace, tucking him close to his chest. Tango struggles closer still, sobbing into Jimmy’s shirt as he clutches onto it. 

Jimmy hushes him, rubbing his back in circles. His every breath sounds that little bit more laboured with the air spilling out from the cannula, and Tango’s metal arm is stabbing him in the side.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispers. Tango nods furiously, desperately. Jimmy is briefly glad that Tango’s fire does not catch on other people. “We’re going to be alright.”

Tango makes a choked noise and manages, “We’re going to be okay,” his voice watery and sharp with tears. 

Jimmy half-smiles, continuing to rub circles onto Tango’s back. Revy pokes him in the shoulder with his nose and curls up again near Tango’s head. Tango’s whole body shakes with every sob. 

“We’re going to be okay,” Jimmy reiterates quietly. “I’ve got you, Tango. We’re going to be okay.”

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Hi yes I'm very normal about this au and was wondering in terms of the world, let's say for a hypothetical map that I want to hypothetically draw, are there any major biomes, important towns or landmarks, things of that nature?

Oooo, fun! I know this is a fairly simple question, but I will be giving you another long-winded answer, so bear with me.

For your hypothetical map there are three major kingdoms to take note of.

In the upper right portion of the map is Coral Crest. It is very well known for its booming economy, which they have their rich glass, fish, salt, and pearl trades to thank for. It is the largest and wealthiest of the three major kingdoms, and the castle is grand and luxurious where it sits on the crest of a large sea cliff. Beneath and above the capital would be many small fishing towns along the coast, and two or three more small villages in-land. It is important to the plot, as this is the kingdom they are/were at war with.

in the bottom center would be another kingdom, Floweret. This kingdom has little in ways of trees or other defining landmarks, it is mostly just low hills and grass lands. The land there would be rich in nutrients, though, and it is perfect for farming, which is where this land would get most of its trade from. It is the smallest out of the three and therefore has a very small, modest castle. This kingdom is pretty new compared to the others, being only around 30 years old. This place is not important to the plot outside of it being mentioned that they turned down an alliance with Grian, and that Jimmy lived there before moving to live with Tango.

South-east of this would be a small town called Sahara that is part of Floweret and borders a desert biome. This is where Grian and Mumbo met Scar for the first time. They are known for their grain alcohol.

The third kingdom, Wintertide, is the one our story takes place in. It is in the top left corner, a bit more north than Coral Crest and in a colder climate. There is a pretty big amount of distance between Wintertide and Coral Crest; it would take someone nearly a whole month to travel to or from either of them on foot, a few weeks by horse. Most of this kingdom is surrounded by dense forest and backed by a large, snowy mountain (Crystaline Mountain). Wintertide mostly relies on the gemstones and coal mined from their mountains for their livelihood, but they also bring in money with their decent livestock and farming trade.

On top of Crystaline Mountain is a village of the same name, Gem and Etho's home village. This is a mostly independent village, though they do pay taxes to Wintertide and rely on it for protection.

South-west, in between Floweret and Wintertide, is a decently sized trading town that is on neutral ground, where merchants from any land are welcome to go and do business. This area is thin in trees, but not as lacking as Floweret. The town is lively, eclectic, and colourful, with people from all over living in its borders. It doesn't really have a name, as it is not official to any of the kingdoms, but it is has acquired the nickname "The Monopoly" because of how easy it is to, well, set up a monopoly there.

There are other, smaller towns and villages scattered across the map between all three kingdoms, but they aren't important, and I have not thought of names for them. (feel free to suggest some!)

There are also other, far-off kingdoms, including some across the sea from Coral Crest, but they are never mentioned, and they are so far away from our main kingdoms that they don't even matter.

Disclaimer: most of these names are up for change, as I have honestly put very little thought into the map since most of the story takes place in the one kingdom. This is all bare minimum brainstorming that I have done over the past few days.

Anyway, if/when you hypothetically finish this map, please tag me or send it to me; I would love to see it! And if you have any further questions about the world, please feel free to send another ask. Or, if you would prefer, you can dm me!

[pixiemage]

My Fate Is In Your Hands - Entry 4

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[A/N: This is a story entirely guided by you guys, by the readers. Be sure to vote at the end of each entry! ALSO, if you'd like to be added the tag list, please let me know and I'll be sure to add you next time!]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

➤ Right? Left? Unclear! It’s a tie!

Jimmy can’t make up his mind and stands there in the actively burning ship like an indecisive fool. He stays there for SO long that the fire overcomes the part of the ship he's in and a piece of heavy metal interior panelling dislodges and falls on his head, squashing him instantly. He respawns in the Sheriff's office in a panic and has to make the trip all the way back to the spaceship, by which time he's beginning to wonder if he should have just asked Pixl for help instead. Hopefully the pilot survives without him! :D

[...just kidding. But honestly, you’re lucky I love you. I’ll give you the better option despite the tie, as a treat. I might not be so kind next time!😉]

➤ Right

Jimmy turns right and clambers over rubble, ducking under hanging hoses and wires and being ever-mindful of his wings. He’s not sure where the cockpit is exactly, but he’s fairly sure he’s going in the right direction. Before long he’s rewarded for his quick deduction work when he comes across a damaged door. It’s just as white as the rest of the ship with a red stripe running across it, and it’s jammed halfway open by debris and fallen supplies from a nearby storage locker. It takes a few minutes to try and clear the mess, and a bit of brute strength with the pickaxe from his inventory for Jimmy to pry the door open far enough for him to get inside.

The cockpit. He guessed correctly after all.

The cockpit is in just as much ruin as the rest of the ship. Sparks fall from torn wires in the ceiling, and the control panel is missing a large chunk off its right side. The front window is shattered and broken glass litters the ground like ice crystals. There’s a lone sturdy chair mounted in the center of the small space…and though Jimmy had expected to find the pilot there, that’s not the case. There are unfastened buckled straps hanging free from the seat, and Jimmy almost wonders if the pilot had gotten out of their own accord…

Jimmy's eyes fly wide and his breath hitches as something catches his eye in the corner of the room. There’s a person. There, half-buried beneath rubble and too close to fire for Jimmy’s liking, is a person. Someone in a white soot-tarnished spacesuit is trapped and seemingly unconscious in the corner of the cockpit, and the moment Jimmy spots them his pulse skyrockets. Oh gods.

He darts forward in an instant, keeping low to avoid the growing smoke, and he begins prying heavy panels of metal and tangles of other debris off the stranger on the ground as carefully as he can. He has to cut away a few cables with his pocketknife to finally pull them free, and the moment they are Jimmy loops his arms around their torso, all but dragging them out of the rest of the mess to the only clear spot he can find in the tiny room. He moves quickly, almost frantically, rolling the stranger onto their back to check for vitals.

Their helmet is broken. His helmet is broken, Jimmy realizes, eyeing the pale face behind the broken glass with ever-mounting concern. The man he's looking at has narrow, pointed features and he looks human enough, though Jimmy has had enough experience with human-ish people on the Empires server to take that observation with a grain of salt.

(And the man had crash-landed out of the sky in a spaceship of all things, so for all Jimmy knows, he could be an alien. He shoves the thought aside to ponder later.)

More importantly, it looks like some of the glass from the helmet caught the pilot's face on impact, tiny cuts just barely bleeding...though there could be more he can't see. It’s difficult to know how extensive the damage from the crash is while the man is sealed in his spacesuit, but moving him without checking first could do more damage. Jimmy squares his jaw and takes a breath. He can't waste time. He has to make a choice, and fast.

He could pull the astronaut from the wreckage first, injuries be damned. The fire is still roaring around them, and though the cockpit seems stable for now, Jimmy isn’t sure how long that could last. But at the same time, the fire isn’t spreading fast, and he can’t possibly know how injured the pilot really is without taking the time to check. Trying to haul him out of the ship without stabilizing injuries first might make them worse…and might even cause the astronaut to respawn. (If he even can respawn. It’s a painful thought.)

Jimmy’s fingers fidget at the helmet’s seal, pondering whether he should be taking it off yet or not.

Does he stay or does he go?

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