#i bought three cheers and bullets

[queernobi]

I'm gonna be honest, most of the way people engage with Tumblr is through the context of fandom, and I just. Can't bring myself to care about fandoms anymore.

Hell, not just in the sense of the community of fandom, but also in the veneration of certain figures that may define certain fandoms. Like, for instance, I just read a post about MCR where the person talked about the group in such a reverent way, almost as if they felt like they knew them, and while I'm not gonna go on some tired "parasocial relationship = bad" spiel, I personally just. Cannot put so much stock into an individual (or even handful of individuals) that I've never met to the point that I start speculating or theorizing what they might be thinking.

I just. Don't care that much? (Also can't bring myself to care that much about their tour given how much they charge for a fucking concert ticket, especially with the pandemic still ongoing, fucking wild.)

It's just a particular way of viewing the world, and while I don't begrudge people for it, it's honestly not a viewpoint I share anymore. If I engage with a piece of work to the point that I would consider myself a fan of it, then I engage with it on my own terms, not in fandom terms. If I like MCR (which I do), I illegally download their music like any respectable individual and move on with my fucking life. I just can't care about the people behind it beyond hoping they're doing well (which they are, if their concert ticket prices are anything to go by, like I cannot begin to tell you how ridiculous that is, I saw the Mountain Goats play near where I live a few months ago and tickets were like, $100 tops, it is genuinely ridiculous how much they're charging).

[melodic-operator]

mcr has such a solidified legacy that i think i forgot how fucking weird danger days is. like as a concept

[tuifsams]

current collection up to 10 albums

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[marinas-drafts]

|| Sarge & Lil Mama

|| Finishing What They Started ||

Blurb: 1k word count

Warnings: PG13 -Mentions of gun violence, assassination attempt, mentions of the murder of Sam Cooke, discussions about the real mob connections to record labels that threatened Cooke and others, Elvis being a protective husband and daddy, slightly misogynistic commands for a woman to give up her vocation??

Note: this is very much self indulgent for my own fascination with Sam Cooke and my theories regarding why he was shot dead in a Los Angeles motel while at the top of his fame, dismantling segregation with his performances, starting up a new label where artists owned their work and becoming publicly supportive of the likes of James Brown and Cassius Clay. He’s was RCA’s second most successful artist right behind Elvis Presley, a lovely human and an incredible artist, if you haven’t listened to him I throughly encourage you to, he’s groovy 💋 You may recall that in the proposal fic of Sarge, Elaine mentions having helped produce Cooke’s recent first record and Elvis urges her to marry him, there’s always time for music ventures after babies

Sarge & lil Mama Masterlist

February 1965

“Elvis, you don’t understand!” Elaine insists as if there’s nuance to the fact she’d just got shot at in broad daylight on Memphis’ Main Street with Jesse in her backseat.

“The hell I do!” He screams back, disheveled from the beating he’d administered her bought-off driver and gloriously beautiful in the greatest rage she’d ever seen take over him. Their sunny nursery on the top floor at Graceland was illuminated by a cheerful late winter’s sun and the pastel’s of the empty baby crib and curtains was in stark contrast to the dark mood hanging over the couple.

Elaine had gotten three shots into the windshield of the car that had done the drive-by and the Shelby county police were on a manhunt and giving Graceland’s phone an update call on the quarter hour.

Elvis hadn’t waited for no police when he’d heard shots outside the studio. Runnin’ out and finding no other culprit to get his hands on save the most recently inducted member of the Memphis Mafia who’d paused in a damn intersection plenty long enough to allow the hitmen to aim, fire and leave despite Elaine’s screams and threats. The man wasn’t recognizable in his mug shot, so swollen and bloodied was he from Elvis’ ire.

“Woman,” Elvis claws at his destroyed pompadour with gnarled hands, “you tell me our friend Sam Cooke didn’t die by accident, ya tell me he got taken out with two bullets in him and bled out on some seedy motel floor -not for some damn hooker but over y’all’s lil venture. You get your car windows blown out by a twelve gauge, my fanmail’s laced with love letters from the fuckin’ Chicago mob warnin’ us, sayin’ leave off the music level venture -or else. Ya tell me ya ain’t paranoid then ya ask me to let ya just keep at it? W-w-what do ya expect me to do, Tink? Huh? W—w-What?” he is bellowing at her by now, his terror coming out in anger, and Elaine just stares at his positively battered fists.

“E, your knuckle’s bleedin-“

“-don’t change the goddamn subject!”

“I’m not it’s just- it’s drippin.” she mutters meekly as the lemon yellow carpet specks from crimson drips.

He sticks the offending fist in his mouth and sucks at the cut before continuing, his voice shaking, “Ya tell me all this then ya insist on goin’ about your damn career! I don’t get ya. I really don’t get ya.”

“It’s not just my career, Elvis!” she begs, “It’s yours! It’s the future of dozens of independent record makers hinging on this. If I just lay back after this -we ain’t gonna have a free music industry where artists get their rights, own their work! We’ll always be payin’ up to the mob -and we ain’t ever gonna be free of Colonel without it! This is why they’re so damned scared, E, so scared they’d turn to murder! I’m doing this for us, keepin’ at it for you!”

“W-w-we got enough as is, Tink.” he whispers, eyes wide and scared for her as he looks down at her, pastel blue coat grimy and bloody as his hands, a mockery of their pristine little life. “We got enough as is, an’all that risk takin’ -i-it ain’t your job, sweetheart. That’s man's work.”

“They killed that man, Elvis.” she repeated disbelieving the truth that’s been haunting them these past two months. “They’ve killed Cooke. Our friend, my collaborator. Killed him dead. And they think they’ve got us all scared, ‘cept for me. And they tried to finish it today.”

“Yeah.” he agreed, eyes watering, “And I ain’t gonna let that happen to ya ever again, I just ain’t. Not even if I gotta chain ya to my bed.”

Elaine swallowed down the warmth she felt rush through her at his rampant protectiveness. “A couple more months and we’ll be set, we can switch you over, you’ll be independent.” she sniffles, “You won’t be beholden to the colonel. You’ll have options.”

“I-I-I d-don’t need rid of him, Tink?” he disagrees while his tone stays questioning, still unable to understand her icy animosity towards the man. “He done gave us all this!”

“-and to quote your mama, we don’t need all this.’ We never have.” Elaine replies, putting her hand over his fist as he’s walked closer to her seat on the edge of the nanny bed, “But it wasn’t him, it was you that gave us all this. He goes on like he’s connin’ the nation into lovin’ ya. What a fool. There’s not a soul on God’s green earth who didn’t love ya once they knew of ya.”

“I don’t need all them lovin’ me.” Elvis whispers, his eyes glued to her lips as he sits down beside her gingerly as if fearful he’ll hurt her while he’s still keyed up, “Jus’ you. Tink I can’t do nothin’ -nothin without ya.”

“Elvis, just give me a few months more,” she begs softly as they sway towards each other, “give me your men and guns and what else, but let me finish. For Sam. And for us.”

His nose brushes hers, long and elegant and nuzzling her cheek and the bridge of her own, nuzzling tears she didn’t notice she had shed, his breath ghosts over her parted lips.

“No.”

He answers as he slots his mouths over her own gasping one, dragging his lips over and up and to the side of her own, smooching her clean, savoring the softness of them like he nearly lost her.

Which he had. He almost had.

He grips her tighter and forces her to accept his terrified love, bending her backwards in his fervor, massive hand, so recently used to maul her attacker, now cradling the back of her neck tenderly, rubbing at the soft spots on either side of her skull.

“Elvis-“ she whimpers at the denial.

“No.” he mutters and shakes her by the neck like a kitten, “Lovin’ ya gives me enough right as it is, but I got more, you know I’ve got more reason. You're my children’s mother! You ain’t meant to be out there gettin’ shot at! Working nine to five like some sunnuvabitch’s damn Secretary. I married me a woman not a-a-“

“I’m doin’ this for us.” she insists weakly.

“And I’m the one who decides for us.” he reminds, his hand still firm on her neck and those lean, piano playin’ fingers span all the way to her pulse point, she thinks she feels pressure increasing there, “And I say no. Be my wife, Tink, be their mama. S’why I married ya.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

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@60svintage

[poolboyvmprmansion]

tumblrs finally letting me make posts again!! as promised heres the vinyl collection

i brought you my bullets you brought me your love by my chemical romance- my first ever vinyl. i bought this before i even had a player. this record was the reason for that post the other day

three cheers for sweet revenge by my chemical romance- one of my new ones i got for christmas yesterday

life on the murder scene by my chemical romance- live version of the last album, first one with a cool sleeve

past lives by ls dunes- this orange is like eye straining irl. the external cover is super cool but you cant really tell when its taken off, theres a scorpion on the back too

take this to your grave by fall out boy- cool silver, bought this to have the first albums of the entire emo trinity

so much (for) stardust by fall out boy- a small record shop in lexington did a listening party for this album before it came out. i didnt go to that but i did get this there. it opens like a book

a fever you cant sweat out but panic at the disco- also bought to complete the first albums on the emo trinity, also opens like a book and i got a poster out of it

deadly fun by dark divine- one of my favorites because its signed by the lead singer, anthony martinez, also a fun yellow and purple splatter

dying is your latest fashion by escape the fate- also one of my christmas presents, apparently the first thing that came up when my mom looked up "punk vinyl" before i gave her a list. also had a cool sleeve

im out of room here wait

[natileroxs]

All the songs MCR hasn’t played yet

My Chemical Romance has played a lot of new and old songs throughout their recent tour but here’s a list of all their songs and which ones haven’t yet been played. All these stats are as of the 20th September 2022. Source

I Bought You My Bullets You Bought Me Your Love -

Romance - (not played) since 2005 (part of medley 2019) Honey This Mirror Isn't Big Enough For The Two Of Us - (not played) since 2010 Vampires Will Never Hurt You - Aug 29th (13 times) since 2012 Drowning Lessons - (not played) since 2004 Our Lady Of Sorrows - May 16th (19 times) since 2012 (also 2019) Headfirst For Halos - May 17th (7 times) since 2009 Skylines And Turnstiles - May 19th (9 times) since 2011 (note - not played since 2004) Early Sunsets Over Monroeville - (not played) since 2005 This Is The Best Day Ever - Aug 20th (11 times) since 2005 Cubicles - (Never played) Demolition Lovers - Sep 20th (1 time) since 2004

Sister To Sleep - (not played) since 2003

Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge -

Helena - May 16th (41 times) since 2012 (also 2019) Give 'em Hell Kid - May 16th (33 times) since 2012 (also 2019) To The End - (not played) since 2006 You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison - May 16th (14 times) since 2011 (also 2019) I'm Not Okay (I Promise) - May 16th (42 times) since 2012 (also 2019) The Ghost Of You - May 17th (24 times) since 2011 The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You - (not played) since 2008 Interlude - (not played) since 2005 (medley in 2019) Thank You For The Venom - May 16th (25 times) since 2012 (also 2019) Hang 'em High - Aug 21st (8 times) since 2011 It's Not A Fashion Statement It's A Deathwish - May 19th (10 times) since 2007 Cemetery Drive - May 17th (12 times) since 2012 I Never Told You What I Do For A Living - Sep 20th (1 time) since 2008

Desert Song - Sep 11th (3 times) since 2008 Bury Me In Black - Aug 20th (10 times) since 2003 Heaven Help Us - Jun 11th (2 times) since 2008

The Black Parade -

The End - (not played) since 2007 (medley in 2019) Dead! - (not played) last 2011 This Is How I Disappear - May 16th (14 times) since 2009 The Sharpest Lives - (not played) since 2009 Welcome To The Black Parade - May 16th (42 times) since 2012 (also 2019) I Don't Love You - (not played) since 2010 (also 2019) House Of Wolves - May 17th (20 times) since 2011 (also 2019) Cancer - May 22nd (3 times) since 2012 Mama - May 16th (39 times) since 2012 (also 2019) Sleep - May 16th (21 times) since 2012 Teenagers - May 16th (42 times) since 2012 (also 2019) Disenchanted - (not played) since 2007 Famous last words - May 16th (42 times) since 2012 (also 2019) Blood - (Never played)

Someone Out There Loves You - (not played) since 2008 My Way Home Is Through You - (not played) since 2008 Kill All Your Friends - (not played) since 2008 Desolation Row - (not played) since 2011 The Drugs - (not played) since 2009

Danger Days: Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys -

Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na) - May 16th (43 times) since 2012 (also 2019) Bulletproof Heart - May 21st (8 times) since 2011 SING - (not played) since 2012 Planetary (Go!) - (not played) since 2012 The Only Hope For Me Is You - May 17th (9 times) since 2012 Party Poison - (not played) since 2011 Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back - May 28th (6 times) since 2011 S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W - May 17th (9 times) since 2012 (also 2019) Summertime - May 16h (24 times) since 2012 (also 2019) DESTROYA - May 16th (34 times) since 2012 (also 2019) The Kids From Yesterday - May 16th (17 times) since 2012 (also 2019) vampire money - May 16th (29 times) since 2012 (also 2019)

Zero Percent - (Never played) F.T.W.W.W - (Never played) Mastas Of Ravenkroft - First time May 17th (11 times) Black Dragon Fighting Society - (Never played)

Conventional Weapons -

Boy Division - First time May 16th (36 times) Tomorrow's Money - First time May 24th (5 times) AMBULANCE - (Never played) Gun. - (Never played) The World Is Ugly - Aug 23rd (8 times) since 2008 The Light Behind Your Eyes - (Never played) (medley in 2019) Kiss The Ring - (not played) since 2009 Make Room - May 16th (9 times) first time 2019 Surrender The Night - First time May 16th (9 times) Burn Bright - First time Aug 26th (3 times)

Fake Your Death - (Never played)

Living With Ghosts -

The Five Of Us Are Dying - (Never played) Party At The End Of The World - (Never played) Not That Kind Of Girl - (Never played) House Of Wolves (Version 1) - (Never played) Emily - (Never played) All The Angels - (Never played)

The Foundations Of Decay - First played Jun 12th (42 times)

[elk96]

A Battle Of Ideals 3

Part 3

Pairing: Chris O' Doyle( Free Fire) x female OC

Warnings: graphic description of blood, wounds, some violence, swearing cause that's all they did in that movie, enemies to lovers kinda?, h/c, English is not my first language, and I do not have any medical knowledge.

He felt heavy, heavier than she thought a body could ever feel. Once his breathing slowed down, she realized how hard her own breaths came out. Tears were drying out on her face, whether they were her’s or Chris’s she couldn’t tell. Probably both. The sun continued to climb its way to the sky, and Amara had things to do. People to report to, information to be given, guidance.

No one can help you with what you got yourself into, she thought worriedly and right away, her body reacted, she tried to leave, she needed to leave this bed, but Chris frowned, and let out a whine feeling her shuffle beneath him, and what choice did she have?

She did not leave him, for the hours to come, her hand still running gently over his forehead, untiredly, until noon came, and she slipped quietly out of the room.

With the extra, -not needed, but reassuring- coverage of the dark, Amara felt her feet move quicker. With the money the organization had lent her, she bought food, painkillers, even clothes for him. In a cheap shop around the corner, she found a button up similar to the one he wore, made of light, soft fabric.

The colors might cheer him up, she thought and bought it along with a pair of pants.

It’s better if he likes me, I guess. The job will be easier, right?

Yeah. Of course, she said silently and nodded her head in approval of her thoughts. Although, if she were honest with herself, she knew with a certainty that reached her bones, that Chris would never agree to this. To turn down his own comrades, if that’s what they were called. To betray his country.

When she entered her apartment again, the fluttering feeling in her chest she’d found him awake was not disappointing. Behind the closed door, Chris had thrown the blanket across the bed, his wounded body splayed bare before her. He was only in his underwear, smaller scratches, bruises and swollen spots achingly profound after three days.

He looked more present now, though, his head resting on the pillow, his good arm folded over his wounded ribs. His eyes found hers right away, and Amara didn’t know, but the sight he let out was relief, not disappointment.

Amara let the bags fall on the floor and with childish enthusiasm, ran towards him, feeling his cool forehead against her palm.

“The fever broke”, she said, too heartily for her liking. “I’ll bring you water. Are you hungry”?

By the end of her words, she had managed to put her harsh tone back on. Thank the gods.

Chris muttered an inaudible ‘yes’ and watched her leave again.

The fact that his health was better, though, Amara soon noticed, meant that there would be an aggravation to his temper. His pride came back, and a suspiciousness reflected in minor mannerisms of his actions, but never his words.

The glass was full of water and he spilled some on his abdomen, but he managed to drink by himself. And then he ate what he pinned hard enough with the fork to actually stay on it.

Amara cleaned him up of the egg and the apple he’d dropped with an annoyed huff, and then helped him to the bathroom.

Chris’s expression softened only when she gave him the glass with the whiskey.

“Two more drops”?, he asked hopefully. His voice was back. Still raspy, but loud and heavy like his usual one.

“That’s all you’re getting”.

“Eh, you were in the warehouse, right? The whole time. You heard Vern’s shit and all”.

“Yeah, I was there. I followed you, but kept silent when the whole thing went off. No bullet wounds for me then”.

“You were planning on following us with the guns”?, Chris asked, full of curiosity, and Amara nodded. “Who sent you”?

“Our friends up in space”, Amara said dead serious and a smile crept on the man’s face.

“Eh, what about the girl? In the warehouse, Justine? How is she”?

“Alive and well, I suppose. We didn’t touch her if that’s what you’re asking. Her leg will heal, and then she’ll fly off to the middle of nowhere, enjoying her money. I bought you clothes”, she added and unfolded the said items.

“Not for now”, she explained. “For later, when you’ll start moving around a little. But I guess you’ll want to change your underwear, so…”.

The boxer ended abruptly on his face, and Chris winced, but the whole thing seemed easier than it was. He had to lift his body off the mattress if only for a moment in order to slide his old boxer down. He had to bend over and fold his legs, so he could put the new one back on.

Only completely naked in front of her, did Chris avoid her gaze, eyes darted to the ceiling, as to ask strength to keep going, or compassion, from his Maker.

“You’re okay”, Amara said dryly, as the Irish growled, for she had knocked him a bit too harshly on the mattress.

“I have to change your bandages”, she informed him and helped him on the wheelchair again. “I won’t have you bleeding on the floor-but be quiet, the whole neighborhood is asleep”.

She didn’t dare make any allusion about last night, because her actions had become more clear with the morning light, her tenderness seemed unbearably ridiculous. She wasn’t a terrible person to hurt him intentionally to make up for her foolishness, and he wasn’t a saint to try and be as careful as possible. Sweat beaded on his brows and Chris clenched his teeth, remaining the whole process without making a single sound.

Twenty days passed like that. Chris regained his strength, day by day-hour by hour, almost, as that firm defiance returned to his features, a need to escape that ugly prison and help with the cause.

Amara was rarely with him in the mornings, off to telephone booths, or a place nearby where a ‘situation’ had occurred. Leaving him at home made her all the more anxious as time went by. She had found ways of locking the house effectively, keeping him where they needed him to be until the time came. That took a little while longer than they expected. She spent almost a month with him, and her mind wandered furthest away by the minute.

The nights were different. At night, people were different. She didn’t have to think that Chris was the one, most likely, responsible for her sister’s death, Chris didn’t have to keep his defense up. Didn’t have to think he was locked up in there.

They would put music on, or read something together, and then Amara would slide underneath the blankets with him. After a while not even she could sleep if Chris wasn’t close, it didn’t feel natural.

All the feelings disappeared when the sun came out.

“What the hell did you save me for eh”?, he asked her one morning tensely after she’d returned from the outside world. He would ask that a lot, sometimes angrily, others with his head to the side and a small frown between his brows. ‘Gentle quriosity’ Amara called that expression of his, and hated herself for that. On that day though, the time had come for him to know. Her superior had told her everything was set, all she had to do was talk him into doing it.

Amara took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Because we need you to help us”.

“Help you with what”?

Bring the IRA down. “My -people-if you wish, have information about a change in IRA’s tactics. We know, that, the IRA is now changing its organization, its construction”, Amara said in a monotone voice. “ As far as we know, you’ll be recruited in small groups of 3 or 4, and you’ll know no details about the members of the other groups. To ensure that no important information slips out if one of you is held captive, or tortured”.

Chris kept looking at her, waiting for Amara to get somewhere.

“We’ ve had our eyes on you for quite some time, Chris. We know that you’ve got a high ranking among the other members of the IRA. We want you to work for us”.

A lot of time had passed since the gunfight at the warehouse. Chris was able to reward her stupidity with a rich, sarcastic laugh.

“And why the hell would I do that ”?

Amara released a pressured, long breath. “Because you have no other choice, Chris”.

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean”?

“Some time before you went to buy the guns from Vernon, and ever since, we have been collecting information about you, trying to get our hands on anything that could be deemed useful. The death of Frank for example, or Justine who just disappeared with your money, have helped us to a great extent. I regret to inform you you’re now considered a traitor, Mr. O'Doyle ''.

Chris gave her the look of Medusa. His eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight, his chin dropped down.

“I’m going home”, he rasped out, throwing the blanket to the side. “I’m going back to Ireland”.

“You can’t, Chris”.

“Yeah? What about now”?, he said and a gun appeared in his right hand. The safety was off.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Give me the keys. Give me the keys to the door, Amara”.

“Get out of this room on your feet and I’ll do anything you want”, she replied coldly and Chris proceeded to do just that.

His upper body trembling, he straightened his back, and grabbed the side of the wheelchair for support. The gun always pointing at Amara, he got up, putting all of his body weight to the wheelchair. Another man would’ve just sat on it, gone out, but not Chris, alright.

A loud moan escaped him as his trembling form collapsed on the ground at his second step, and Amara rushed gently to his side.

“Get off of me! Get off”!

“Shut up. You’ll re-open your wounds, you bloody idiot”.

“Get your hands off”!

“I haven’t spend a whole month tending to you for you to just tell me to fuck off Chris”, Amara replied through clenched teeth and grabbed the pistol. It slid away from them scratching the floor with a disturbing sound, as, with their combined efforts, Chris returned to bed.

That sudden outburst left him panting noisily, half-sat for a few minutes, while Amara retrieved the gun, and then sat against him at the end of the bed.

“So that’s why…”, Chris murmured full of bitterness. Amara’s eyes snapped back at him.

“That’s why they sent a young girl and not a trained man”, he continued.

“Trained men are no guarantee. For how long have you had it”?, she asked, dropping the gun to her palm rhythmically.

“A week”.

“A week… And you never thought of checking, did you? For bullets”.

“It’s empty”?

Amara shot him two or three times, the quiet clicks sounding almost as bad as his humiliating groans.

Silence fell over the room again, and Amara felt for the first time in a while, like he was a stranger. She was looking at him, but not seeing him, whatever connection, wanted or unwelcomed they had ever had was now gone. And he was cold and stiff under her gaze.

“The first day you brought me here, you said you wanted to live, to see Ireland united”, she said thoughtfully. “You want the British to fuck the hell off, Chris”?

“Yes”.

“Why”?

She got a sarcastic huff in response. “Why? Why, because they are-they’re tyrants, Amara. They’ve killed hundreds of us, killed, and-and butchered, and abused. I saw them fuck my mother in front of my own eyes-do you understand that? That I had to tend to her, but I didn’t know where to touch her to pick her up”.

The silence became heavy, filled with sorrow and hatred, like a blanket that covered them both.

“18th of August, 1973”, Amara snapped at last. “Does that date mean anything to you? To your men, perhaps, your friends. Five years ago. My sister died from one of those bombs Chris”.

Chris remained silent, not knowing what to say, what she expected him to say.

“An eye for an eye, then? Is that how it goes? They abused your mother, so you guys killed my sister? This is terrorism, Chris, nothing more”.

“All I want is my country to be finally free and-

“Yeah, well, Adolf Hitler similarly wanted his country to be rebuilt again and he butchered all the innocent Jews”.

“They’ve ruled our country for generations, they’ve made us fight with each other-

“There are other ways”, Amara said, hiding her face between her hands.

“Yeah? What”?

“There must be another way”.

The cold expression in his eyes answered her better than words ever could. There is no other way.

Amara left the room like a hunted dog, sat at the kitchen table, pulled her knees up to her chest to think, there was so much to think of, and the only thing she wanted was some quiet, for once, for her mind to go quiet, to let her breathe.

How many hours she spent folded like that, alone there, she couldn’t tell, but her muscles ached when she stretched her legs. She was planning on sleeping on the floor, or on the table, but with agony she realized she’d left her jacket on the bedroom, she’d freeze if she slept only on her t-shirt. Oh how she dreaded going back there.

“Do you want me to bring you some water for the night”?, she asked nonetheless as she approached the bed.

“No, I’m fine. Where are you going girl”?

“I just wanted to pick up my jacket”.

“We didn’t finish Jimmy’s song last night”.

Amara looked at him bitterly, like she really did regret that they had reached that point.

“So this is how it’s gonna go”?, Chris asked harshly. “You’ll brainwash me until I oblige to what you want”?

“If you’re a smart man, you’ll do it anyway. I told you, they think you sold them out for the money and disappeared from the face of the earth. If they see you, in Ireland or anywhere else, they’ll shoot you on sight”.

“And you can make it right”?

“We'll give you the opportunity to clear your name. We screwed up, we can make up. You’ll give us a couple of names, and then-

“Then you will kill me. When you don’t need me anymore”.

“You don’t have much of a choice”.

“I won’t betray the cause”.

“You mean the organization that attacks civilians in the name of justice”?

“You mean you wouldn't kill a child if you could get your way”?, Chris bit back. “Your people''?

I don’t know, Amara sighed deeply. “Don’t fall off the bed again Chris”.

“It’s cold in the kitchen”.

“Yeah? You found out when you went looking for the gun”?

“You didn’t trust me anyway, don’t pretend to be hurt”.

Amara wept for the first time in five years that night. If only Chris could hear her, and come, and stop his nonsense. She needed the closeness that night.

He never came.

The morning after, she got her hands on the evidence they had faked, and gave it to Chris. It had taken her hours to convince them to give it to her, she’d been out all day. But it was worth the trouble, she hoped. All the lies that had been told, all the bodies, and the connections that had been made, were now written before him. And she was right, they would shoot him on sight. But then, those bastards had also written down what he was supposed to do, the lies he’d have to tell, his defense. And it was a beautiful, planned move, and it would half the IRA down.

“So, who do you work for”?, was all Chris said after he’d read the documents. Multiple times.

“This operation”, Amara said sarcastically, “is a collaboration between the FBI and a department of the MI6”.

“Ah, nice stuff”.

“This is serious. A lot of time’s planning has been put in this-you weren’t even supposed to have this kind of information this early! But if you don’t agree, Chris-they’ll kill you”.

He shook his head dismissively. “I’m ready to give my life for the cause”.

“They’ll beat you to death”.

“Your sister, how old was she? When she died”?

“What-yeah well fuck it. She-why are you-...She was 27”.

“We weren’t responsible for the attack. Me and my friends. The ones you’re asking me to betray”.

“They were not responsible for your mother’s abuse, the bad situation of your country. She, and the people that died in the attack”.

“So that leads us to a dead end”.

“No, that leads us to the conclusion that this needs to change”.

“Yeah, we’ll talk the British into leaving, and then the whole world will live in fucking peace. At least we have a fucking plan. We know our day will come, we know what to do-

“An answer is not always the right one Chris”, Amara said desperately. “How can you not see that”?

“Well perhaps I’m blinded by all those years they have been fucking around in my country”.

“I understand. I’m an American, damn it, of course I understand. The French understand, the Greeks understand, but you can’t just blackmail the British through attacks to civilians-that’s just as bad as what they are doing to you”!

“They have three times the men, three times the ammunition. We are working on our strategy-and no, your sister was the exception to the rule. We rarely kill civilians-you can’t expect us to face them in the open, can you?-But anyway, no, I won’t justify the cause to you”, Chris said firmly. “If you want, you can kill me now, if not, I’ll see your friend tomorrow”.

“If you don’t help us, we’ll find another way in. They’re serious people, they’ll do anything they can to stop terrorism in their country”.

“I won’t be alive to see that happening”.

“Okay”Amara murmured and threw an envelope to his lap. “I did some research. It’s just psychological studies, and data from the attacks, and philosophical shit-I don’t know. Hope you’ll still be here when I come back tomorrow morning”.

“Where will you go”?

“There are some letters I need to take to someone”.

“Mmm, very informative. -Hey, won’t I have a last night with you girl?" Chris asked, seeing Amara go for the door.

She stopped in the tracks, and turned around, a sad, wide smile spread across her face.

“A last night to do what, Chris”?

He raised his shoulders. “Whatever you want”.

It was a blow below the belt to look at her like that, wide eyed, and kind, and firm and honest. He wasn’t that man-or was he? Suddenly, Amara was too aware of her own breathing, forced, and shallow.

She had to refuse-she was going to refuse, but a quiet ‘yes’ slipped from her mouth, and her body moved to feel his warmth. She couldn’t deny them that one, possibly last, night. Yet, she remained careful with her heart, tried not to hurt her feelings too much. Tears had already begun to wet her eyes, as she faced the wall.

“And you know what’s the worst part”?, she murmured quietly. “They won’t beat you to death. I don’t know how much it’ll take you to collapse, but they do know, the man they’ll send, and he will give you just that. And so, you will do what they want, you’ll just be bleeding your guts out again”.

Chris shuffled closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. His chin rested on the end of her collarbone, his breath warm, and calm.

“Stop. Take your hands off”, Amara said sharply.

“But I like them there. I like you close”.

“You and I can never be close”.

Chris dragged her on him, she could feel his chest rise and fall against her back.

“I think”, he said in a voice raspy, broken, almost, “that we are the very same. We want to do good, and have no idea how”.

At least I know that killing random people in their cars is not the way, Amara thought but didn’t say anything. She was tired of pushing him away.

[saturnianbooks]

It's crazy how much I don't realize my evolution.

I bought a Galaxy S6 tab on sale last October. I use it mainly for studying and bullet journaling. I've had my eye on one of these for so long and now I have it. I literally tried so many ways of digital bullet journaling and now I do it on a daily basis.

I've wanted for so long to have a study buddy. Someone who cheers for me and helps me be more productive or who simply is being productive by my side and now I have a friend who accompanies me like that. I wanted to be a university student, with friends and papers and doing clubs. I found myself a book club and a creative writing club within a year. I made friends and worked my ass off in academic events and internships.

And I still feel that I don't know anything, that I have no content or personality whatsoever. From a big perspective, that's such a lie. I speak three languages. I'm almost graduating. I can make beautiful things when I want to. That's good enough.

[sister-t0-sleep]

I got 'Danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys'

I spun this wheel and got 'Danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys' https://spinthewheel.app/what-mcr-album-should-i-listen-to

[theswarmanthology]

Sasha, 22, Munich, Germany

"i was pretty involved in mcr tumblr 2015-16 (not as like a big blog but i consumed a lot of its content etc). simmered out a little but my current blog is once again mcr-centric. overall i'd say i've had a positive experience! all the stuff that happened this year is pretty wild though"

Fast Facts: How long have you been a fan?: 5-8 years Did you get to see MCR live before this tour?: No, this tour was my first time seeing MCR How many shows on this tour did you attend in total?: 2-4 Favorite album: I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love Show experience out of 10: 10 Did you cry at your show?: No

Which date of the tour did you attend? 06/06/22, Olympiahalle, Munich, Germany

When did you get your tickets for your show? Was it a struggle, or were they easy to grab? my friend who isn't even into mcr but, unlike myself, has a twitter sent me a link in the middle of the night. munich was one of the shows they added in early 2022 and when i bought the ticket at like 5am it was pretty easy to get them. i think that was like 4 months before the date?

Did you attend with anyone else? Solo

What did you wear? ok so made a big mistake. i hadnt been to a concert in a while (bc covid) and my experiences before were uhh more chill. anyway i wanted to look Cool so it was studded chocker and bracelets, chains etc. A Mistake. to describe the actual outfit: three cheers shirt, fishnet sleeves, big ass pants i got off a friend that i need to wear with a belt. think bondage pants minus the parts that make them cool (or bondage pants). also im pretty sure i wore converse

Where were your seats? pit, SL

What was your favorite song(s) from the setlist they played at your show? i had to look up the setlist but im gonna go with cemetery drive

What song were you most hoping to hear? Did you get to hear it? i would absolutely kill to hear early sunsets live. but honestly hearing kids from yd made up for it

What was your favorite moment from the show? moshing during not okay

What was the most unexpected moment from the show? honestly just how much gerard rambled and how much i enjoyed it

Did you snag any merch? What pieces? porn star shirt. i would have bought the whole stand but . well

Many fans describe seeing MCR live as feeling like coming home. Did you experience anything like that at your show? honestly? no but thats less on mcr and more on me needing 4-6 months to process an emotion. it was great though

If you could change one thing about your show experience, what would it be? be less stupid. the outfit choices i mentioned earlier and also i should have just bought the 7€ water. i was so thirsty. this concert taught me a lot about what i dont want to do again!

Has your perspective or opinion about the band changed since seeing them on this tour? If so, in what way? not really, no. seeing them live added to my love for them but more in a way of just how much i can treasure this. i've always known how special they are (to me, anyway)

What advice would you give to people seeing My Chemical Romance in the future? other than common concert stuff (i don't even really mean that mysterious concert Etiquette who cares how ur enjoying urself as long as ur not bothering anyone. i mean like wear practical clothes, stay hydrated and eat something, look out for yourself and other etc) there isn't a lot. enjoy it! it is special, but that doesn't mean it has to be any different. go with the flow i guess? yeah. wow that's lame

Thanks, Sasha! They can be found on Tumblr at @possessedgerard.

[lovely-lesions]

Gerard and Ray winning a claw machine :)

[mother-fecker]

so do we get sad on the 22nd this year or..?

[dramaticallydepressed]

this is the best day ever // mcr // its not a fashion statement its a deathwish

lyric parallels

for @captainswan618

[extrakuli]

since halloween season is coming up (yes I know it’s september but still never to early to celebrate halloween) I was thinking about what costumes some of the genshin characters would wear or you doing couple costumes with them, it’s all right if you can’t do all three of them just some ideas that were in my head!!

you have be trying to convince xiao to do a couple costume with you for a while now and he finally gave in you two are going as jack skeleton and sally.

for childe it’s the other way around childe loves halloween he always did matching costumes with his siblings in snezhnaya so he wanted to do a couple costume with you, you two would go as felix and Sergeant Calhoun don’t ask why I just get those vibes

ok so for you and kaeya both of you wanted to do couple costumes since both of you never really had any friends to match costumes with (lonely mofos) anyway you two would go as flynn and rapunzel idk why kaeya gives me flynn rider vibes.

Halloween Costumes

xiao, childe, kaeya + diluc x reader (separate)

A/N; I’m gonna tweek it a little, switching childe’s and xiao’s. And adding diluc. I’m in a studio ghibli mood so 😻

warning(s)/genre; no warnings, fluff, bulleted headcanons. modern AU. Costume pairings include male x fem!characters but reader is gn. Movie spoilers (mainly for repunzal)

Xiao;

This is such a coincidence that I get this request including xiao; because I was watching spirited away last night and haku and chihiro reminded me of xiao and my oc.

It would definitely take time to convince xiao to dress up with you for the costume party childe and kaeya are hosting.

After convincing him, you decided to dress up as characters from your guys favorite movie; spirited away. (jack skeleton and sally were your second choice but decided with haku and chihiro)

one of the greatest mf films istg

You guys dressed up as haku and chihiro; xiao being haku and you dressing as chihiro! you even bought a little dragon haku plush that xiao carries on his shoulder

“Do we really have to do this” he pouts, as you help him with his costume. “yes! we already bought the costumes, so there’s no point in not going anymore, plus, you look super cute in this outfit!” you cheer, patting down his costume making sure it fit him, he blushes and stares at the mirror. “Atleast Im not making you wear the wig..” you giggle. “There’s no way you’d get me to wear that ugly sweaty thing” he crosses his arms but there’s a small upright curve on his lips when he hears you giggle.

Childe;

This was your idea, because god forbid you two go as the hot sexy gun lady and the fix it man from reck it ralph. No way in hell, especially if childe was gonna make you dress up as fix it felix because your shorter then him

It took a tiny bit of convincing to change childe’s mind to dress up as howl and Sophie from howls moving castle. but after you watched the movie he was convinced

He wanted to dress up as howl’s bird form but you convinced him to be normal and go as blonde howl.

Was actually really happy with how you two turned out. Said it would have been funny if you dressed up as the old granny version of sophie and you slapped him across the head.

Helping him fix his cape and smooth out any wrinkles, Childe admires himself in the mirror, having a giddy smile on his face. “There, your costume is all ready.” you smile, standing next to your boyfriend in front of the mirror. “I still don’t know why you wouldn’t let me go as his bird form-“ you let out a large dramatic sigh to cut him off, leaving you two chuckling and giggling.

Kaeya;

Well, sense I couldn’t think of any other studio ghibli couples that represent kaeya; and i just really liked the kaeya + flynn rider idea i kept it.

It was his idea and he had to convince you to wear that long ass mf wig. You refused because it would be heavy and a pain. so you decided to dress up as repunzal after flynn cut her hair in the tower.

Thought you looked sexy in the dress, and liked the idea of wearing a shorter wig because he said, “It would be easier to kiss your neck like this” swat him away like a fly whenever he tries to give you kisses or love bites on your neck.

you couldn’t lie that this was a great idea because damn, kaeya looked so damn fucking good in flynn’s outfit, especially sense he let a little stubble grow on his chin.

You were struggling to tie the ties in the back of the dress, calling to your boyfriend to help you out. “Kaeya, can you tie the back of this dress for me? it’s a pain and i can’t seem to tie it properly” he walks over to you, taking the ribbons in his hands, “of course” He pulled on them and tied them tight. Moving his hand off of the tied ribbon and rubbing up your waist and hips, before leaning in to give your neck a peck, “you look gorgeous” you smile and lean in to his touch, “hmm, so do you.”

Diluc;

ponyo ponyo, ponyo fishy in the sea-

So i can picture diluc as Fujimoto (the father with the stripped suit) from ponyo, because semi of his personality and hos gorgeous hair.

You, the reader, would obviously go as non other then the god of the show, Granmamare, the sexy giant goddess lady.

You had to convince him to go first, because he would rather be caught dead then be seen dressed up at kaeya’s costume party. but indulged in to your request after you suggested going as Fujimoto and Granmamare.

Thought he wouldn’t look any different, so he complied. He was happy he didn’t have to wear a wig for this costume. Also thought you looked stunning in the long wavy pink wig and long dress.

He was sitting down in front of you, sitting patiently as you did small touch ups of make-up for his eye bags, eye shadow and cheek bones. To be honest you didn’t really have to darken his eye bags because there was already some because of lack of sleep, so you just touched up his blue eyes shadow and the blush on his cheeks. Your lips purk up and you out the make up brush down. “All done! you look very pretty, diluc.” you hand him a mirror, blush creeps on his cheeks at your compliment. Honestly a bit surprised when he sees himself in the mirror. “oh..wow, you applied this stuff really well.” he tells you as he carefully studies his Looks. “Mhmm..only the best for my cutie.” you kiss his reddened cheek.

10:54 pm 9/07/2021

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 26

Hannibal, Will and y/n host a dinner to put an end to everything

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence

"Hannibal, baby," You called down from the wine cellar. "Which one pairs best with the paella?"

"A Spanish white!" Will interjected.

You rolled your eyes, then looked at his shelf full of Spanish whites. "Thanks, Hannibal."

"You're the sommelier, [F/N]." Will shouted back. "Go with your gut!"

"Verdejo it is." You said to yourself, grabbing the high-shouldered bottle from the shelf.

You returned from the cellar and headed to the dining room, where Will was dutifully setting the table.

"Well aren't you the perfect little homemaker?" You commented, making sure he caught you eyeing his backside.

Will playfully snatched the wine from your hands. "We can't all be the breadwinners, can we, Ms. Restaurant Owner?"

You laughed, looking around at your triple-income house and accepting a kiss from your Will. You put your hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.

"You know Hannibal isn't going to let you attend one of his famous dinner parties in a flannel, right?" You warned him, lips hovering a few inches from his face.

"Two guests is not a dinner party." Will corrected you. "I figured you'd know this after six months but, baby, Hannibal is always overdressed for everything."

"Better overdressed than the other way around, my treasure." Hannibal said, standing in the threshold. "Why don't you go slip in to that suit I bought you?"

Will threw his hands up. "Do you two just live to gang up on me? You know I can buy my own clothes, right?"

You scoffed. "Babe, you spent your last paycheck almost entirely at Bass Pro Shops-"

"And then we spent the day workshopping new seafood dishes for the restaurant with the fish I caught." Will shrugged. "You don’t get to benefit from it then complain."

You put up your hands in surrender. "Fair enough."

"So I don't make an ordeal out of this in front of guests," Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two small drawstring bags and gave one to each of you. "Happy six months, my darlings."

"Six month anniversary presents?" Will laughed. "What are we, high school students?"

"Do you not want it?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that." He mumbled.

You opened the bag and slid the contents into your hand. A beautiful solid white ring with ornate carvings tumbled out.

"It's beautiful." You smiled, sliding it on to your finger. "What is it?"

"A ring, my indulgence." Hannibal chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure, but what is it made of?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Ivory."

"Should I be concerned that you somehow know both of our ring sizes?" Will asked, admiring how his fit perfectly on his finger. 

“I think you mean ‘thank you, Hannibal’.” You corrected him. “Even if it is a little uncanny.”

The doorbell rang. Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and pointed to Will.

"Go change." He ordered. "I will not have my guests seeing you in such an unsightly state."

"It's Jack and [F/N]'s friend." Will protested.

"Sure, I'll get the door." You said. "Gee, thanks [F/N], that would be so helpful!"

You opened the door with a smile.

"Agent Crawford!" You greeted, shaking his hand.

"Oh, please." He laughed. "Call me Jack."

"And this must be Bella." You said, offering his wife your hand. "Jack has told me all about you."

"So you're the infamous [F/N] [L/N]?" Bella accepted with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you."

Jack removed his hat and coat, then handed you a bag. "For you."

"You shouldn't have." You said, knowing immediately that it was wine. Then you pulled it out of the bag. Your eyes went wide and your jaw hung open.

"Holy shit you really shouldn't have." You repeated.

Jack shrugged and smiled smugly. "I pulled some strings in evidence. Figured you might want it."

You threw your arms around his neck, keeping a tight grip on the 1907 Heidsieck Monopole.

"Hey, do I get a hug?" Said another voice.

Charissa waved to you from the porch.

"Holy shit, hey!" You opened your arms. Charissa jumped into your embrace and squeezed you. She'd always hugged you tighter after seeing you half-alive in a hospital bed with your seldom-seen lovers at your bedside.

"Jack, this is my friend Charissa Rodriquez." You introduced. "She was the one who sent you the address."

"So you're 'tip', huh?" Jack's face lit up. "The FBI owes you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Rodriquez."

"Tip?" You said, looking at both Jack and Charissa.

"The address we received came from an obvious burner email." Jack explained. "We thought it was from Chase, so we arrived with a ton of backup anticipating an attack. Turns out we needed it."

Charissa shrugged. "I thought you could never be too careful."

"Well, intentional or not," Jack said. "You helped us a lot."

"You're Charissa Rodriquez?" Will said from the staircase. He wore a grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt that fit him scarily well considering he hadn't even tried it on.

"Enchanté, monsieur." Charissa said, eyeing him up with a hungry smile. "You must be Will."

"Down, girl." You crossed your arms. Your tone was playful, but had a slight threatening bite. "He's all mine."

"Not all yours." Hannibal corrected, entering the scene to finally greet his guests. "Agent Crawford, Bella, Ms. Rodriquez, welcome."

"Wow." Charissa said, dumbfounded. "I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."

"Oh, surely the rumors unraveled after the old place went out of business." Hannibal answered. "There are far more interesting things to talk about than myself."

"Very few, but they do exist." Jack commented.

Charissa folded her arms. "Like the bartender who stood up to a psychotic cult leader and found two wonderful boyfriends to take care of her?"

"I've heard that one!" You added. "I hear she bought the restaurant for next to nothing after it became a stigmatized property."

Carissa narrowed her eyes at you. "I still cannot believe you told him."

You shrugged. "I think it all worked out."

Hannibal gathered everyone around the table and tasked you with pouring the wine.

"Surely you know why I've invited you here tonight." He asked, taking a seat at the head. "The high courts have ruled Chase's death a suicide."

"Cheers to that." Will said, raising his glass.

"Nobody actually believes it was a suicide." Jack clarified, trying not to look at you too obviously. "But the jury didn't want to dignify him with a proper homicide ruling."

Charissa glared at you, not trying to not be obvious. "Only one person at the table knows for sure."

You shook your head. "I hit my head really hard, the details are just not there."

"But [F/N]'s DNA was on the gun." Bella added.

"But not her fingerprints." Jack said. "It was saliva. We think he tried to choke her with his fingers before reaching for the gun."

"Did you ever find that finger?" Charissa said like it was nothing.

Jack, who was more interested in the paella than the conversation, shook his head. "Never."

Your eyes widened. You left the finger with the gun, you were sure of it.

"Must we discuss the gory details over dinner?" Will said, sensing your discomfort.

Charissa rested her chin in her hands. "Would you rather talk about your three-person couple?"

"I distinctly remember spitting the finger out." You insisted.

"We found so many pieces of bone in that room," Jack continued. "It's genuinely of far less concern than the dynamite lining the walls and bunker full of cocaine, stolen medical supplies and baby coffins."

"And the stained glass window made of human skin." You added.

"You know a case is fucked when a lost finger is of the least concern." Charissa commented.

"The important thing is that it's over." Will said. "He's dead and [F/N] is alive."

Bella smiled at you. "God really is looking out for you, [F/N]."

You forced a smile, telling yourself that Bella had the best intentions. But her good intentions revived Chase's voice in your head, which was a voice you'd spent the last six months trying to forget. You tightened your grip on your utensils to relieve some tension, but it didn’t work.

The table went quiet, waiting for Bella to realize her mistake. Will put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes. He mouthed the word 'breathe' and some similar affirmations.

Hannibal raised his head, knowing the light casting shadows on his face intimidated people. "Ms. Bella, we generally don't talk religion here."

She covered her mouth with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, [F/N], I just meant-"

You put your hand up. "Please, just don't."

"The important thing is that [F/N] recovered forty missing women and reunited them with their families." Will said. "And there was no divine presence involved in that."

You smiled softly. "I'll drink to that."

"And you'll also be happy to know that the woman who assisted him in luring all those girls into the cult," Jack added. "She's looking at twenty-five to life without parole."

"What about the babies?" Bella piped up. "Weren't there, like, at least twelve newborns?"

"That's where the department of family and child services took over." Jack answered. "Whether the biological mothers kept them or put them up for adoption is out of our hands, but I do know each child was thoroughly examined and are all up to date on their shots."

"Seriously, though." Charissa interjected. "How do you misplace an entire finger?"

"It's one of the easier appendages to misplace." Hannibal answered, speaking with experience. "I heard it wasn't just the one that you couldn't find."

Jack looked up from his plate, confused. "Now how did you know about that?"

"The man took a 12 gauge bullet directly to the hand, Jack." Hannibal said with a small chuckle. "It's more likely you find no fingers than any at all."

"The bones will turn up somewhere." Jack said, resignedly. 

He just happened to say the word “bones” as you were glancing at your ring. 

You smiled a little too wide. “They just might.”