thekingwiththekey1 - Tumblr blog

[thekingwiththekey1]

y'all ever reach the end of google

[thekingwiththekey1]

Modern fandom went awry when people stopped learning how to avoid content that upsets them and instead starting actively seeking it out.

I mean this in the kindest, most loving way possible, but babes you'll be so much happy when you stop focusing on what other people are doing and instead focus on what you like.

You'll never be able to stop people from liking what you hate, and the best way you'll find any peace of mind is properly utilizing blocking, blacklisting, and muting tools. Take it from someone who used to run a shipping discourse blog, fandom is supposed to be what you enjoy, stop focusing on things that upset you.

[thekingwiththekey1]

After Bolsonaro fled Brazil and refused to pass the presidential ribbon to Lula during today’s ceremony, Lula instead received it from the Brazilian people themselves.

History has been written today in Brazil.

[thekingwiththekey1]

SUPER IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THOSE FOLLOWING THEKINGWITHTHEKEY

I will be leaving this blog as it is a sideblog and that is very embarrassing. The url of this blog will be changed and I will set up a new blog that will have the url 'thekingwiththekey' ANY AND ALL THREADS SHALL BE CONTINUED THERE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.

  JIMMUN OUT.

[thekingwiththekey1]

.

[thekingwiththekey1]

leave a ✫ in my inbox and i'll generate a random number and make you a starter or drabble or something

1. Punk!AU 2. ‘The Bed Song’!AU 3. High School!AU 4. Superhero!AU 5. Childhood!AU 6. Genderswap!AU 7. Magic!AU 8. Vampire!AU 9. Werewolf!AU 10. Zombie!AU 11. Barista!AU 12. Hooker!AU 13. Regency!AU 14. Prison!AU 15. College!AU 16. Slavery!AU 17. Pretend Couple!AU 18. Incest!AU 19. Canadian Shack!AU 20. Dub-con!AU 21. M-Preg!AU 22. Secret Siblings!AU 23. Band!AU 24. Mundane/Domestic!AU

[thekingwiththekey1]

ø

Marcus, darling.

Listen to ‘Love, Love, Love’ by Of Monsters and Men while you read this, I enjoy giving life a soundtrack. This is me saying goodbye and I’m drunk, so I’m allowed to be sappy. (Shuddup)

I am constantly torn between hating you and loving you and I hate you for that. I’m crouching under and metaphoric umbrella of hatred and drunkenness.

You’re beautiful, okay? You and Q. You are my very favourite people/person. Um. I care about you. However, considering, I’ll probably be dead in the next 24 hours I guess that’s not really a comforting thought. (Or maybe I’m lying to you. You knew know with me)

And you’re so dumb with your glasses and your fluffy hair and nose. (Wow this is fecking poetry. Drunk poetry with Jim Moriarty, weekdays at 7) And I’m dumb with my suits and murder and shite.

We’re both dumb, I guess. Look - I’m going to be dead when you’re reading this and if you share the contents of this letter with anyone I will haunt your arse.

I care and I’m sorry.

Jim

[thekingwiththekey1]

"Mm," he grunted in response, refused to look at her. He rested his chin in his palm. Jim tapped his feet again the floor. He thought of murder and all the closest starts to earth. His face was expressionless and a trifle cold, but he was feeling so much pain. So much. He was so weak. So pathetic. Worthless. Idiotic. He shouldn't let his simpleton of a daughter get to him like this. At the question, he raised an eyebrow, "The guest or the dead man?"

Emotions are Cursed in this Family || Elsie and Jim

-

His tone sounded, to be perfectly honest…absolutely terrifying. Not like she hadn’t heard it that way before..of course..but she never got used to it. 

She opened the door silently. Glancing up at him and then to the screen of the computer..a video of something..it was too dark on the screen to actually tell, so she let her gaze fall to the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of the water. She sat the plate down on the night stand however, not feeling particularly hungry. “Thanks for the food." She said, the silence was too uncomfortable. It was stifling the air and she couldn’t handle it. She honestly was touched with the plate of food, it meant he cared..of course, she knew he did. He cared too much, sometimes..and then not enough. “Was the dude some evil chief or something?"

[thekingwiththekey1]

ø

Anthea, hi.

I’m sorry we haven’t spoken in, oh, four months. I truly have missed you. I’ve been otherwise retained - you can thank Mycroft. The bastard gave me a beating for a stupid reason and I stayed away from the government. I fear I won’t be able to ever meet with you, talk with you, etc. again - you can thank MI6.

Forgive me, my dear.

Jim

[thekingwiththekey1]

ø

Dear sister who I didn’t know existed,

I’m going to die. Thought you might want to know. Goodbye.

-Jim

[thekingwiththekey1]

Jim's head oscillated in a reptilian fashion. Calculating, always calculating. He sat in his leather desk chair and recalled the evening's events. The dinner with Dr. Lecter had gone well. Could have gone better. Thankfully, his guest was a sympathetic man and, being a psychiatrist, Hannibal was able to asses that something was wrong in Jim's life.

Merely saying "something was wrong," was the understatement of the week. Upon turning his thoughts to Elsie, Jim was suffocated by a gaping  black hole in his chest, the kind that made you feel like it was impossible to move. The kind that paralyzed you with grief. Jim extended his legs, placing his feet on his desk.

He looked at his computer screen, which displayed a video of himself savagely murdering some poor bloke that failed to live up to his side of a bargain. He was 10 minutes in and the man who was tied up still managed to keep conversation. 20 minutes in and the man's cocky smile became more of a blood-stained grimace. 30 minutes in and the man was stuttering and sputtering blood as he pleaded for his life. At exactly 47:18 the man let out the animal screech that you hear after someone's been tortured a spell. The deep-lungs scream that comes when the mind cracks like a walnut. Jim smiled as her watched computer-screen Jim slice the man's throat. The video stopped and Jim was given the option of replaying it or exiting. He was about to replay when he heard a knock on the door. Fuck.

He clenched his jaw at her query and in a voice laced with daggers and poison replied, "Sure."

Emotions are Cursed in this Family || Elsie and Jim

Eli was gone, Eli was gone…Eli..her sweet, precious..the love of her life..was gone. And it was her fault. Like everything else, of course. It was a stupid idea anyway, letting anyone have a relationship with her. She should have known that her Father would always find away to spoil what he didn’t like. He always did. And then, of course, he brushed off her feelings as ‘predictable.’ Oh yes, her grieving the fact that her boyfriend was dead was melodramatic and predicable. Well. She wasn’t a machine. She wasn’t like her Father. She couldn’t easily hide her emotions, and she couldn’t be like him..she needed someone, she needed love and relationships and peopled who cared and were there, always there.

In her mind, as she laid on her bed..iPod blasting Blackout by Muse, wrapped up in fuzzy pajamas and her Strawberry Shortcake blanket from her childhood. She honestly hoped his stupid dinner with his stupid client was horrible. She hoped he got a toothache and a headache and whatever else ache he could get. She hoped he felt just as horrible and hurt just as much as she did. Because that was currently all she could feel. Hurt. It was about eleven at night now, and she figured his client was probably gone. So pushing herself up, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders and headed for the door. When she opened it, however. There sat the most beautifully crafted meal she’d ever seen. Setting with a glass of water and a fork right in front of her door. And letting out a breath, she bent down, picking the plate and glass, she headed slowly for her Father’s room. Dread welling in the pit of her stomach. When she reached the door, she knocked quietly, clearing her voice. “Can I come in?" She whispered, half hoping he wouldn’t hear her and she could just leave.    

[thekingwiththekey1]

Send me a ø for a goodbye letter from my muse to yours

[thekingwiththekey1]

Molly's apparent stammer made Jim uncomfortable. Sure, when you were giving somebody beating, a victim's stammer was a sign that you were winning. However,  he didn’t want Molly to be his victim. Jim wanted the pathologist to warm up to him, feel comfortable around him. He wanted to be her very good friend. Then, he could – though slowly, at first – contort her into something more pleasing to him. Something a few notches darker. Molly Hooper would no longer be the mousy girl at the morgue who pined for a man who could never love her. She had the potential to be so. Much. Better.

                “Molly, dear, sit by me,” Jim turned his head and smiled invitingly at her as he patted the space on the couch next to him. As he waited for the lady to join him, he said sadly, “I wish you weren’t ever so nervous around me, but I do suppose I deserve it. I’m not the most approachable human being.” He gave a sad smile.

Dinner under Duress

-

Molly blushed as Jim’s lips pressed to her hand and she shrunk back at his eyes as they trailed over her dress. She supposed it looked, together anyway, a bit tacky. A thin hand smoothed out the red fabric as her eyes were trained on the hand of Jim’s that slid along her arm. She felt like she had simply, and without even knowing it, given herself to him by simply complying to his demands. 

The worst part of it was that she wasn’t exactly thinking it was a bad thing. 

Toby scampered out to the hallway, rolling about and batting the catnip between his paws, a deep purr pushing out of the cat as he batted around his new found entertainment. As for Molly, she had turned as soon as Jim had found himself a seat, staring at him with wide eyes before actually taking action. She knew this dress was a bad idea. “Th-Thank you…" Molly made her way to the tiny kitchen, carefully searching for a vase that would at least earn some respect from her date.

Molly hated to disappoint, but it was something she seemed to be quite good at. For once, she was going to work to not disappoint Jim. Anyone else but Jim. 

Molly selected a crystal vase with intricate swirls around the top and base. It was nothing too fancy, but it was pretty enough in itself. At least she thought so. Brown eyes flicked up to Jim as he sat on the couch, as he talked on his phone, and as he calmly just…sat there. 

"Uh..Jim?" Molly filled the vase about three quarters full with cold water and carefully placed the flowers into the crystal holder. She smoothed her skirt again in nervousness. “Wh-Where are we going? May I ask?" She drifted off slowly and quietly as her question met its end, her eyes flicking to his extended legs.

Oh god, this was going to awkward for her again, wasn’t it? Dammit. 

‘Come on, Hooper!’ 

"Can I get you a..—anything while we wait for my new dress?" 

[thekingwiththekey1]

Royal Hem AW13 Lookbook

Another outstanding collection from Royal Hem, this time paying tribute to London’s Tweed Run. British elegance is combined with Italian tailoring and craftsmanship, to deliver a perfect blend of styles that carry on the label’s unique aesthetic of informal luxury.