#Charles Stanke

[omegalerc]

something something the way they both immediately looked at the other for their reaction

[mrsmodok]

RAHHH JOIN NOW

Marvel in Glory is a server that prides itself of being a mix between chill, lighthearted roleplay and serious, more action driven plots. We strive to make sure every character is included, that includes ones who may not be conventionally noticed! Our server will always take priority of member safety, meaning that we will ban any problematic members! We have MANY canons open and accept OC’s! Like I mean, almost everyone is open. Our server is overall super chill, yet not too chill to the point where it gets in the way of roleplay. We have a wanted list that includes many characters that are usually taken! So if you want someone popular, there’s a chance that they’re free here!

LGBTQ+ friendly!

System friendly!

14+

Semi-lit and up!

[libraryofloveletters]

The Heart Loves Spain

pairing: Christopher Leclerc x Sofia Sainz (OC!)

summary: rumours swirl when Sofia and Christopher are both spotted in Spain, posting things a bit too similar to be a coincidence.

author’s note: finally bringing back the daddy & me + three series :) this is a soft launch of the kids' relationships lmao

all photos are from instagram and/or pinterest :) // daddy & me + three masterlist

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sofiasainz55 added to her instagram story.

— 

christopher.j_leclerc added to his instagram story.

— 

sofiasainz55

liked by christopher.j_leclerc, emleclerc, charles_leclerc and 832,549 others 

sofiasainz55: casa para el verano. (home for the summer) 

view 388 comments 

user4: whos the boy from your story!!!!!

gabriel_leclerc: okay hot girl 

comment liked but sofiasainz55

charles_leclerc: très jolie chérie (very pretty darling) 

↪️sofiasainz55: merci oncle charles! (thank you uncle charles) 

user2: ^screaming!!!!

landonorris: I’m telling your dad you went out with a boy 

↪️sofiasainz55: who said I went out with a boy 🙄 there is no boy in this post

— 

christopher.j_leclerc

liked by youruser, sofiasainz55, gabriel_leclerc and 678,395 others 

christopher.j_leclerc: te amo 🇪🇸

view 483 comments

sofiasainz55: cool post bro 

↪️christopher.j_leclerc: thanks bestie 

user9: ^oh? odd way to interact if you’re a couple

comment liked by emleclerc

user16: ELOISE CONFIRMED THEIR RELATIONSHIP??? 😩

user5: not Chris thirst trapping like his dad used too

user44: for someone who says that he and Sofia aren’t anything, it’s funny that he posts/dates a girl that looks just like that

georgina.r_: did you bring me anything from home? 

↪️sofiasainz55: just a stank ass attitude 🙄

↪️christopher.j_leclerc: how are you gonna talk about me under my own post?? thats so disrespectful 

↪️gabriel_leclerc: get the stick out your ass chris 

user2: obsessed with this friend group honestly. 🤣🤭

—

sofiasainz55 and christopher.j_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, adrian.albonooo and 1,244,535 others 

sofiasainz55: summer of love 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

location: málaga, spain. // tagged: christopher.j_leclerc

view 843 comments 

emleclerc: the secret is finally out I can breathe again 🫠

↪️youruser: you really are your father’s child 

comment liked by calrossainz55, pierregasly 

user4: I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!!111!!!

oli1verstappen: my favs (just sof) 😚

↪️sofiasainz55: love youuuuu 

↪️christopher.j_leclerc: again I’m being bullied 

↪️oli1verstappen: I didn't comment that!!

↪️gabriel_leclerc: I commented that from oil’s account 🤭

user6: now if you have babies, is it gonna be leclerc-sainz or sainz-leclerc ????

↪️anthonygasly_: I vote second one but what do I know 😗

landonorris: you’re too young to date🙄

↪️sofiasainz55: you’re too old to be cyberbullying me 🙄

[slowd1ving]

[XENIA] SNIPPET ゜・DG

part of a request (I'm alive and kicking I just couldn't write because I had no access to my laptop)

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Creators. 

In turn, the city cradled your grimy little body—chubby hands wrapping around index fingers of the metaphorical hounds—and made you. 

Did this metropolis represent you, or did you represent the metropolis?

It was not in a polite setting that James Lee scouted the venerable King of Busan: arguably the second most esteemed figurehead for the Kings of South Korea. In theory. In theory, since Busan’s reputation as a hub for trade and exalted trade (rather than the mere cold, hard cash ill-reputed other cities offered Choi) entwined with your own. Except, in practice, you were a far more reticent King than anyone could imagine. A shadow to fade into obliquity more than any other shadow. 

Underbelly, yes. This was the turf you were most at home in; he could forget all about the glamorous, illegal casinos in basements, he could forget about eavesdropping on business moguls and their lackeys, he could forget about waiting in the entertainment districts for the proverbial snake to finally rear his head. 

You were the fucking microcosm of this city: draped with expensive fabric and chainmailed with gold, but the blood on your knuckles stank of impurity. In a parking lot nestled on the outskirts of Busan, he witnessed the King in his court: complete with the luxury, the opulence, and the hamartia of brutality that came with capitalism. Yes, Busan had minted you as a shadowy side to a glitzy coin—as your eyes snapped to where he lounged against concrete, he couldn’t help but observe how your imaginary hackles raised. 

Thwomp. Casually, you tossed the grunt beaten black-and-blue to the frigid asphalt, with the magnanimity of tossing breadcrumbs to ducks in a pond. Like the lackey was the bread and James fucking Lee himself was the duck. A bloodied cheek squished into his sneaker, but you merely stared at him owl-like. No, cat-like, because it seemed to be the same nonplussed stare a cat would give someone after bringing them a dead rat. 

“Nice city.” Since you clearly had no intention of speaking first. Deftly, his fingers unravelled the mystic plastic of a lollipop: popping the cherry-flavoured candy into his mouth to soothe the acerbic irritation he tasted. “You treat all your guests like this, or do kings not follow xenia anymore?” 

It was a rather futile attempt to lighten the mood. After all, if he could help it, he’d rather negotiate to pave the way for the second generation before resorting to throwing his fist. No, that was a lie. His flexing fingers wanted nothing more than to curl into a fist to let off some of the steam he’d garnered from searching for you in this uselessly big city, but fate had him making stupid jokes based on The Odyssey he’d read just last week for his Classics competition. If he rummaged in his pocket, he could probably find the gold medal clanking against hard sweets. 

Your expression changed minutely—a slight disturbance in your brows. They furrowed, and for a brief moment James Lee thought his joke fell flat. With all the blood soaked into your expensive garb, maybe you just valued fists over Homeric hexameter. Violence over prose. Brawns over brains. You slinked like shadows. Crude. Ominous. He could barely see your face even with the city lights flashing neon in the backdrop, but when your loping gait came to a halt, there was an exasperation that afforded more subtle nuance to your character. A bitterness to tinge what he thought was mindlessness. 

“Mr. Lee.” Your voice curled low in your throat, as quick and elusive as mercury, and perhaps just as poisonous. Shadow King of Busan, the man who never introduced himself to you noticed. Silence was golden, and he suddenly understood why Charles Choi so badly wanted sway over the young King in charge of this port city. “I hope you’re aware that beating my subordinates would invalidate any sort of hospitality between us. You’re no god amongst men either, so ritualistic hospitality is a very weak premise to coerce my amiability with. Try again.”

Deity in the flesh. Perhaps James Lee was the closest thing to breaking the limits of humanity, but all men were fallible. That wasn’t what caused his brow to rise though; going in blind may have been risky, but it was worth it to find someone with a silver tongue like this. 

You looked about his age—treading on the precarious cusp between First and Second Generation, fists stained as red as his hair—but you spoke as if you were triple your years. 

“You wanna transfer to my school? It’d be fun to have you in the Debate Club,” he said on a whim, but it wasn’t really a whim either. His instructions were expressly to negotiate with Busan—the city was far too volatile to create a power vacuum in. For cities like Ansan, struggle was welcomed; but Charles Choi had too little of everything to contend with Busan, of all places. Just like in Seoul, the situation would resolve itself, and it was far too soon for the HNH Group to meddle in a place like this. “You talk like a teacher.”

His tone was as syrupy as his candy, but there was half-provocation, half-probing-curiosity entrenched in his cadence. Go on, it coaxed, throw a punch. Argue back. Unorthodox was his means of securing cooperation, but he’d have to be a little unorthodox to secure the deal old man Choi had painstakingly written out. A contract between Elite and the capricious man before him, between HNH Group and the microcosm of Busan himself; it sounded like every capitalist’s wet dream. 

“Good question, kid,” you smiled, but it was less of a smile and more of a sneer as you ghosted closer to him. Kid, like you weren’t one yourself. 

Crack. You stepped, heavy, on the hand of the man you’d pummelled—only his unconscious groan of pain re-alerted James to his existence. “The term isn’t over. You should still be in school. Playing around like this makes me far less likely to listen to whatever you’ve followed me for. Try again.”

The thick scent of metal invaded his personal space as you peeled your black gloves off; the rings beneath them were tinted with the blood that had seeped through the material. Just like that, you callously tossed the garment onto the slumbering man under your feet—though he truly wasn’t sure whether it was a final affront to a beaten man or throwing down the gauntlet towards James Lee himself. 

It was a reminder, once again, to not be hasty. There was the real possibility of fucking Charles Choi several times over if he didn’t get this right, but the thought of his imminent doom didn’t seem all too unappealing. On the contrary, he found his heart beating faster—pulse hot on his tongue as an intriguing challenge presented itself before him. 

“I’m sure your informants have relayed more intel than just my name,” he mirrored the jagged stretch of your lips. The Legend of the First Generation. The Genius. The original, associated with the base moniker of the Ten Geniuses to show just how unparalleled James fucking Lee was. “Take a guess as to how my scholastic life is going, then consider the opportunity that I’m bringing you.”

Ambiguous. His words were dusted with just enough information to seem straight to the point, but vague enough that it was tantalising. A hook to ensnare the snake of Busan himself. And rather than sating the itch in his fists, he found himself looking forward to a parley instead. 

You studied him, appearing to consider his words seriously. Syllables phrased like he was the one with the upper hand, when in fact the HNH group was still tentatively unfurling and in the process of negotiations with both yakuza and Triad alike. He awaited your favourable response, hearing the stats roll into your mind as you calculated the preliminary gains and losses to joining hands with Charles Choi. 

Bloodied fingers tapped a rhythm into your jacket absentmindedly. He watched, anticipating your invitation. 

“Fuck off.”

“Huh?” he spluttered. Maybe he misheard you. Maybe he finally choked on his candy and induced a coma in which he was now dreaming of your response. 

“Your boss sent a high-schooler to broker a deal with Busan.” Your fingers now drummed in irritation against your forearm, but he was just as irritated. He took care of every other prefecture and province, only to have this guy who was his age, nonetheless, tell him his presence wasn’t good enough. Like, what? “Tell old Choi to come himself to negotiate if he wants any sort of foothold in my city. If he truly wanted a respectable contract, why would he send you as a messenger?”

“Excuse me?” If he wasn’t restricted from fighting you—the only exception was valid self-defence—he would’ve made the asshole in front of him eat shit. Alas, Choi wasn’t that generous or lenient. “He sent one of the Ten Geniuses, the primero, for this. I’m one of his greatest assets.”

“Are you a damn car or a person?” you snapped, and it suddenly felt as though he was looking upon an ancient wizard as he lectured a troublemaker outside his tower. His eyelid twitched, and he was finding it quite hard to keep a cool head. “Talking about assets… can’t believe Choi’s sent the guy who’s fucked up all the smaller provinces to deal with us.”

The latter sentence was more grumbled to yourself; it appeared he annoyed you just as much as you annoyed him, which he found a delighted satisfaction in. 

“Tell Elite to come himself,” you uttered finally, not even letting him get in a word edgeways as you ambled back into the shadows—not even sparing a glance for the pile of bodies left in your wake. 

And despite his objective, despite the imminent yelling he’d no doubt face, he couldn’t help but stare at your blood-soaked coat fluttering in the frigid coastal wind. 

Out of hatred, obviously. 

[fathercharlesoffdensen]

In my experience as a fandom veteran of [redacted] years, hyperfixating on fictional people is a lot more fun a) as a curated experience that maximizes enjoyment and minimizes 'hate-watching' and ship wars and harassing franchise creators and trolling; and b) when the end-goal of every interaction, fandom contribution, etc. isn't mining for ~problematic elements in a piece of media and/or amongst those who 'like' something the 'wrong' way. I spent last summer mired in health issues from mold poisoning and the house renovations that followed, during which consciously escaping into beloved fictional worlds via Tumblr and AO3 kept me sane(r than I probably would have been otherwise) - knowing that they're there when I need/want to visit is probably going to factor into my survival of the current summer as well ngl. Fandom! Come for the .GIF sets, fanart, meta, memes, (civil) discourse, and friendships; weed out unnecessary drama as much as possible.

Case-in-point, I've been working my way through the original Uncanny X-Men comic run from the 1960s, and Charles Xavier's moral ambiguity is on dazzling, four-color, two-dimensional display, as well as some rather ~dated representations of disability and the era's gender roles. Indeed, those who balk at the Rogue / Magneto ship likely have even more ire for Professor X's old-school skirt-chasing, pipe-smoking incarnation, especially when he struggles not to make his mentor-student relationship with Jean Grey even more inappropriate than it already appears to be. In my personal life, I try to avoid relationship drama, behave ethically, and communicate clearly because, like daydreaming about gay ships, doing so enhances my quality of life. On the other hand, I want to roll around in the stank of all of my favorite fictional hot messes and their bad decisions and 'unhealthy' relationship dynamics and weird sex preferences, essentially for the same reason. Below are clues for an in-post skeevy Charles scavenger hunt for your continued enjoyment:

Charles out-skeeving Mister Sinister;

Chillaxing at the Hellfire Club with Tony Stark;

Mystique remarking on Krakoa! Charles' "gross" notion to create / continue a mutant leg of the CIA;

Early 60s Wolverine isn't a fan of old-school Chuck either;

Charles scaring the crap out of Scott Summers(/other mutants);

The X-Men rough-housing and nearly harming Charles;

Odin Charles in a jaunty wizard disguise;

Jean practically climbing onto Charles' lap during a battle;

Jean taking up both nursing (!!!) and cooking (!!!) duties for Charles and like four gross teenage mutant dudes;

Charles and Jean icing out the other X-Men regarding Charles' impending death(/'death' - he gets revived almost as much as she does), much to Scott, Hank, Iceman, and Angel's discontent.

TL;DR: In the immortal words of the great philosopher, Thor Christopher Hemsworth, "Do stuff, be nice, have fun" aka don't be a dick. Have a great summer!

[turuin]

too often the people complain that they have done nothing with their lives. and then they wait for somebody to tell them that this isn’t so. look, you’ve done this and that and you’ve done that and that’s something. you really think so? of course. but they had it right. they’ve done nothing. shown no courage. no inventiveness. they did what they were taught to do. they did what they were told to do. they had no resistance, no thoughts of their own. they were pushed and shoved and went obediently. they had no heart. they were cowardly. they stank in life. they stank up life. and now they want to be told that they didn’t fail. you’ve met them. they’re everywhere. the spiritless. the dead-before-death gang. be kind? lie to them? tell them what they want to hear? tell them anything they want to hear? people with courage made them what they aren’t and if they ask me, I’ll tell them what they don’t want to hear. it’s better you keep them away from me, or they’ll tell you I’m a cruel man. it’s better that they confer with you. I want to be free of that.

"Wasted", Charles Bukowski (from "What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through The Fire")

[theuniversalscat]

Christmas is a time, when you can what I like to refer to as “over feel” or, as the kids say, over “feels” but what I truly feel sometimes is “over the feels”.

The holidays, at least for me, seem to sometimes over magnify my lack of involvement. I think Charles Schultz was really onto something when he wrote about it for the peanuts Christmas. Charlie Brown didn’t feel very well liked or included, and it was really hard for him at Christmas to feel that wonderful spirit, because everything in his 3D life showed him his belief, that no one cared about him.

Lucy, his classmate, is usually pretty judgemental of him, but she made a good point that perhaps if he became more involved in some community activities of the holiday season, it would allow him the opportunity to feel that Christmas spirit. So he did, but his beliefs were still magnified on the outside of him, that people were disrespecting him, and no one was listening to, or including him. Til the end of the peanuts Christmas special, but that doesn’t always happen in real life.

That’s pretty fudging depressing. We don’t live in a cartoon where we have to wrap up the “poop present” he received from every kid, happily, in 22 minutes, ok? If I were Charlie Brown, I would’ve threatened to shove that dry and prickly little branch tree where the sun didn’t shine to all those bratty kids. I would’ve said in a not so Christmasy way,

“Um, excuse me Peanuts gang! Yeah, I hate to interrupt your nonsense you got going on here on stage, cause I’m sure it’s really important, but you got a PROBLEM with the Christmas tree I was so kind to pick out AND PAY FOR while you acted a fool up here in this auditorium singing and dancing all Willy nilly with no direction or destiny? If you think you’re all something, why the Christmas cracker am I here? For my health?! No! Am i not the director?! Last time i checked i thought i was! So no to you, peanuts gang! I’m supposed to be here getting involvement, right?! But you know what I discovered about myself along the way? I’m kind with the exception of now, and super delightful! And you, are not the kind of people I want to have involvement with! So why don’t you take your snarky comments and nippy “Jack Frost” attitude about me and send em in a holiday card to someone who gives a holiday rat’s pixie dust patoot! (Yeah, i don’t know how to pretty that one up, folks….) And while you’re at it, put some mistletoe above that rat’s (i know how to pretty it up! I’ll throw some glitter on it…) glittery derrière! And you know what to do! Just in case you don’t I’ll help you out…. Pucker up! Yeah! Jerk faches….”

I mean, who in the “h-e- double hocky sticks” wants to be involved with these kind of people, complainy and eh eh eh eh ehhhhhhhhhhhhh about every little thing, especially around the holidays?! I know i don’t! (I’m pretty sure that was a direct quote from Charlie Brown’s sister, Sally from one of those Christmas specials, too. The “h-e” was eliminated from the “hockey sticks” part when she said it, but i know what she meant.) Needless to say, I’d be Charlie Brown in this scenario, with most likely a few Christmas cards in the form of restraining orders… 🤣🤷‍♀️🙈🎅🤣🤣🤣

So, even if you have to be by yourself binge watching the “holiday baking championship” on the fudging food network when you don’t even bake and you eat a salmon salad while you look at all the delicious looking desserts then you go into your pantry about 32 times saying, “yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.” trying NOT to eat yourself out of house and home, especially if it has even a hint of sugar, which you do eat but it’s not nearly as satisfying as what you’re looking at on the show, and you sit with your semi but not sugar starved, grinchy self, thinking as Christmasy as a burnt cookie with “stink stank stunk” royal icing, cause you learned the baking terms but not the actual baking technique, at least no one will bother you, in person. But, they will if you think about them, and how they treated you in the past. So don’t do that!

That lil ditty was a Christmas poem by Charles Bukowski.

Happy holidays to you! 🙈🎅🤷‍♀️💝🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[boygeniusbaby]

the bacchanal: camilla

"from the start, they knew you were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong"

warnings: death, attempted sa, and canon bunny (fatphobia), non-fanon henry

wc: 1.5k

The wind was thrashing the trees, and the wet grass was blowing back and forth as the rain hurdled down to the dirt, continuous and aggressive, like the gods were angry, wanting for something with their whole spirits, the worst kind of want- the want bubbling up in them until it exploded into lightning sparks. 

The dark figures danced around clumsily, then stood in an open field near the car, before the forest in a circle, pouring neon green absinthe into small glasses as their bed sheet chitons whipped in the wind. Crushed purple grapes laid on the soil.

“To live forever.” Henry called out to the group, the absinthe sloshing around in the glass shot, high in the air. The trees rattled in the distance.

“To live forever.” All of them chanted, drinking it down in a murky gulp.

They swallowed, and the smell seemed to take forever residency on their tongue; their breath stank of it, of a decay deep in their body and their souls- rot and rust, moldy, their sins becoming physical in their body. Never before had they felt so alive, so careless, so immoral. The only observer of the agora was the car off in the distance, rain jumping off of it, the black, thin windshield wipers stuck in the middle of the glass. It looked so solid, so physical, in the blur of everything else.

········ ·········

Their heads felt like they were exploding- single cells exploding into many, universes bubbling out and growing on top of each other, and a slight dizziness and lightheadedness as a creator has. Their eyes buzzed around and made the others seem foggy, in double exposure, close and far at the same time. A bolt of lightning struck a faraway oak tree, illuminating their faces with red and orange, like the leaves in autumn that surrounded and watched them. Now light, they saw each other- slightly spread out due to stumbling and obstructions in the dark forest. Camilla turned around, dazed, feeding off the fire’s energy, and saw the boys’ hungry eyes on her. In that moment, she felt such a deep helplessness and sadness for her fate of being of the cursed sex; the girl that is only seductive if elusive, foggy, distant and cold, and the reward of the performance yanked hair, bruised wrists and mouth.

Henry began to stride towards her, fast and strong, the wet white sheet pressed up against his chest, with Charles second, and Francis trailing behind. 

“No,” she babbled, watching them while her pale feet walked backwards. “No!” she screamed, and took off, dirt rising up in the air, dirt in between her toes and on her feet, jumping and sliding towards the nothingness in the distance.

········· 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 ·········

Charles found her submerged in a bush of red clovers- blood wrapped around her foot, red and black pouring out of her like a faucet. Twigs snapped under his feet.

“Camilla,” Charles slurred gently, the heat of his open mouth laying on the nape of her neck. His body reeked of sweat. 

She shuddered, her torn chiton whipping in the wind and wet, leaving her naked small body cold and visible.

“No,” she trembled, digging her pruned fingers into the dirt, her gray eyes to the ground.

He had had enough of this rejection, and yanked her right shoulder to his chest, and she pierced his neck with her teeth, her jaw open wide, tearing his pale pretentious skin and leaving the remains bloody. The blood dripped down the side of his neck and stained his chiton.

He shrieked, stumbling away from her, his hands shaking. His face to the night sky, he whined like a horse or a dog, animalistic but not primally, but in a weak, helpless way. She scampered once more, the only thing she could do, forced to flee- couldn’t fight, her hair soaked with mud and her face soaked with tears; Charles could see with blurry eyes and his hands quivering at his neck a deer limping quickly through the forest.

Henry ran up to Charles, heaving. “Where is she?” he breathed out. 

“There,” he gestured, to the right, a few steps away from himself, hazily, face in the ground. 

Francis came up behind Henry, putting his hands on his knees and breathing out through his mouth. “What?” he croaked.

“I see her.” Henry, bounding towards another figure on the ground, laid on his stomach. He pulled the dirty blonde head of hair towards the stars. 

“Bring her to me,” Charles mumbled.

“To you?” Henry turned around cold, throwing the figure’s head back into the dirt. “You don’t deserve her. πάθει μάθος.”

Charles clawed his way out of the dirt, and shoved Henry to the ground. He bit at him, clawed at him, while Henry tore himself from his grip and punched him right in the cheek. 

“You’ll never know,” Charles said through the sound of thrashing sheets. “Like I do.”

They both reached for Camilla, tore up her dirt-soaked blue jeans, her plaid shirt- dirty nails digging into her skin, blood dripping out of open wounds, until all that was left was a carcass devoid of a soul.

╰૮₍ •\./• ₎ა╯

Camilla looked almost like an angel, the closest that a human could get with still being a human. Her hair was soaked with blood, but the rest of her was immaculate- like a baby, just out of the pure womb. She looked like a small rebellious angel, but the divinity always won over. She seemed to be in a soft, delicate trance, her beautiful flushed cheeks painted over lightly with another coat of white. The creek before her played a beautiful song, gentle but emotive, as she leaned her precious seashell ears to the water.

“Camilla?” Henry called out softly, a few steps behind her. 

She glanced behind her, her eyelashes looking even more delicate and soft in the pale moonlight. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, her hair curled up on her forehead like a cherub.

“Oh, Camilla, come here.” He gently reassured, letting her crawl to him. He put her light head in his calloused hands and rubbed his finger across her wet cheek. “You think I’d hurt you?” he titled his head. “Never, Camilla, never.”

“I want to go home,” she shuddered gently, leaning her head into his left hand. “I was so scared…” she murmured, looking up at him, the scar running through his eyebrow and the scratches on his neck.

“I know, I know,” he soothed. “Come with me,” he said, kissing her forehead, and picking her up in his arms. 

········· 𓅔 ·········

An hour had passed when they found Francis and Charles back at the open field, both fainted- legs tangled and hair tousled. “It’s time to go.” Henry said politely, kicking Charles in the head.

“Camilla,” he slurred, awake.

Henry paused, looking at the boy below him in disgust. “It’s time to go home.” He repeated, staring into Charles’ eyes. 

Francis started, slowly opening his eyelids, revealing his bloodshot eyes. He looked at Henry as if he was a god. “Hm?” he asked.

The car was silent and smelled of blood. The only sound was the occasional tick-tick-tick of the turning signal and the sound of the leather breaking under Henry’s harsh grip.

The door opened, and the bloody figures walked in, bathed in the golden light of the lamps- a golden light that they did not deserve; a golden light reserved for angels, not creatures that burn for lust and power. 

Bunny jolted awake, looking down at the ice cream on his chin and clothes when Francis gasped, crying a little bit of exhaustion at Bunny’s presence. Bunny looked up, horrified, his pupils turning into black holes, and screamed out of shock, a high-pitched, curtling thing.

“Bunny, stop.”  Henry said solidly. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

He did not stop, and Camila, exhausted and angry, grabbed a glass ashtray and hurled it to Bunny’s chest.

It was silent, and everyone waited in anticipation for her to speak, but she never did.

“We hit a deer on the way home. Go back to sleep.” Henry said, turning away from him and towards the bathroom.

········· 𓇢𓆸 ·········

Washing up in the bathroom, their red blood, stained on the white porcelain tiles, reminded them of the physicality of what they’d done; terrible and irreversible. No longer were they in a drunken, ancient Greek world of absinthe, sex, and wine, but the world in which their footprints leave marks in the dirt, and the world in which they would be punished most secularly, devoid of divinity and misty eyes. What a tragedy it was that gods traded in blood and flesh- then of communion. The body would live with them, in the dark recesses of their spongy organs, until they were forced to shit it out, forced to face the music.

“You sure got me,” Bunny called out through the bathroom door. “Why, must’ve been a large deer, size of the ol’ financial aid girl.”

Francis curled his fist, bloody still, the shower faucet screaming and hissing. He looked up at Henry, his eyes dark and gloomy, staring at Bunny through the white wooden door. 

“Francis,” he called to him, still staring through the door, “consummatum est.”

[flashfanged]

Name: Madison Paige Bradford Occupation: Media Influencer, ex-starlet Age: 27 Sexuality: Lesbian Species: Vampire Clan?: Lomidze Hometown: Lake Charles, Louisiana Relationship Status: Single Personality Traits: Loyal, caring, nurturing. Stubborn, selfish, seclusive.

 Their birth isn’t exactly known, no name, an estimated age. No hospital knowledge, they don’t even know if the small bundle is from the same town. All that’s clear is the drunken man with a fresh bottle of whiskey in his other arm is not her father. The nun on night watch takes her in without hesitation. She’s taken to the hospital the next day, hoping to find some information or record of the baby. They turn up empty-handed but are at least happy to get her checked out and find that she is healthy. And possibly a few weeks old. They decide to name her after a recently passed sister, Madison, and give her an estimated birthday. 

She seems easy to raise, but just a few difficulties come with development, she doesn’t speak until she’s four and chooses to play alone. But when speech begins its full sentences it’s like she is an entirely new child. Suddenly the little redhead is thriving, enjoying the attention of anyone who will give it. But there are still little things like her ability to read, things they assure the family to adopt her should be fine with time and school. They take her regardless, and life seems like it will be perfect.

Things are NOT perfect. As time passes the truth begins to show. Eager to collect the monthly check that comes with the child. And school never comes. She’s homeschooled, something that never actually happens either. It’s fine though, they wanted her right? And on paydays, she gets treats and attention. The more time that passes the more paydays they seem to get out of her. A beautiful child, an obedient child. It starts with pageants and then commercials. And finally a spot on a children’s show where she finally learns to read. On-set tutoring is required, and they suck up the knowledge as best they can. 

At home things are declining quickly, money being used for drug addiction. No matter how much the child makes it’s never enough. The first incident of something more wicked occurs when she turns ten. She knows better than to tell anyone. After all her father is always there, always on set. He is always watching. So she puts on her mask. Listens, performs, and is always the good obedient child. 

It goes on like this until they are seventeen, he’s over her just like every time, his breath stank of cheap vodka and stale beer. He praises her in a way that makes her stomach knot uncomfortably. She snaps. Shoving him away he falls off the bed and she scrambles up. He grabs her ankle and calls her a bitch. Picking up the nearest thing she smacks him in the head with a lamp, cutting herself in the process of knocking him out.

It’s not enough though, he’s still a threat and still has power over them. Again and again, the lamp comes crashing down. She’s straddling him as she screams, leaving a gory mess on the carpet left panting and tired. Numbly standing from the now lifeless body she smears blood against her cheek as she brushes back hair and walks blindly into the hall. Mother standing there screaming as she demands to know what happened. Surprisingly strong hands wrap around the woman’s throat a harsh gasp of ’Shut up’ leaving lips that are painted in a grim line as Madison shoves her into the wall. Tighter, tighter until the fight disappears, until eyes go dim. She leaves her mother to slump to the floor. Takes what she can and leaves. It’s easy to figure out how to transfer what money of hers is left and she falls into scarcity.

She gets as far as the town over before realizing there is a definite need for medical attention. Paying the Uber to go just a bit further and to drop her at the hospital there. That’s where they meet her, an absolute angel. Their savior. The nurse is the first to take the redhead in, fussing over the wound and asking questions about how it happened. She doesn’t speak, just shakes her head, and says that it was only an accident. Hopes they don’t look familiar to anyone. Hope they are invisible. They discharge themself after the wound is stitched closed and wrapped up in a bandage. And then they disappear. The news of the murders is small and insignificant. They are free. It’s hard to do it at first, being alone and free, but after a while, it becomes second nature. 

It’s not until she finds Port Liery that Madison starts to grow into her own person, she uses her money to get her own place, makes friends and builds an actual life. Gets a GED and studies coding until she’s figured out to build her own platform doing things that make her happy while getting the attention she’s always craved by streaming and filming videos online. Playing the stock market. Building wealth she should have always had. Playing the line between the human and supernatural world, until by a night’s chance, she herself is swept fully into it. And that’s how Madison dies. And once again is reborn.

[tsuki-sennin]

Dinosaurs~! Right okay we're gonna wreak some good ol' fashioned havoc today, so naturally we've also got Rinne focus and Kajiki doing Christmas karaoke. What more can one want?

Spoilers, I guess...

-Dinosaurs~!

-Help us out, X-Rex!

-Grateful Ancient~!

-Gotchanko! X! Reeeeeeeeeeeex!

-X-Rex Super~!

-I love this.

-Super Gotchard! X-Rex!

-You're very confident, aren'tcha Clotho?

-Damn, that boy's throwin' down!

-"All this power is worthless against experience, you goddamn brat!"

-Bambamboo and Happyclover add up to a level four Malgam.

-And Buglesia quite literally bring us up to eleven!

-I see she prefers the Apollo Geist style.

-Stanked.

-NOOOOO RINNE

-"Heh... Duty. Just so we're clear, I'm laughing at your loser dad and the destiny you're so desperately chasing."

-Minato-sensei's just *writhing* around.

-Such awesome villains, I love them.

-GO DAD

-"Well whatever, bye-bye now~!"

-Yuzuru-san.....

-Ohhhhh, she's pulling the dad card again.

-"All those people were victims of Fuga Kudo's actions. And now all of these people will be victims of Rinne Kudo's inaction."

-I sure hope Lachesis doesn't awaken anything.

-SAWAAAAA

-Holy shit, Atropos.

-Rinne, I appreciate your belief in Hotaro's belief in love and friendship but I don't think this literal murder baby is

-Oh

-Well never mind, it worked out great.

-"Thank you, Kudo :D"

-Going Dino Mode once more!

-Oh HI Spanner~!

-Dude did you walk here

-Get chomped, plant lady~!

-"Oh... oh, that's disconcerting..."

-Hi, guys :D

-"CLOTHO YOU MEATHEAD, HE'S GONNA EAT YOU ALIVE"

-Ganbare, Hotaro-san~!

-Everybody's support and also Spanner~!

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ICHIGOOOO

-That was unneccessary but at the same time absolutely vital

-OH THE ANTS

-"Clotho, you're gonna fucking die!"

-"Shut up, you skank!"

-Gotchard tickles all my fancies.

-Ohhhhhh, Hotaro :D

-You're such a nice kid.

-Bye, Dread-san.

-"I'm gonna make your head splatter like a roach."

-"Okay, bye."

-Awww, Hotaro...

-Minato-sensei :)

-Absolute chad Yuzuru Manabe

-I hope you take something from this, Spanner.

-OH FUCK X-WIZARD

-I'm uh... gonna have to wait a long time for

-Chrimbus time

-Sabi/Ryo arc real

-Awwwwwwwww...

-Photo evidence of our friend X-Rex.

-YEAH BOIIIIIII

-Thank you, Minato-sensei

-Oh he servin

-Alright... time for the big question...

-Exactly what is this memory we have of Hopper1?

-...does Hopper1 not remember?

-Won't you play us a song, Charles~?

-They're teasing us so hard with Hotaro's dad oh my godddd.

-Kyoka~! Kind of a MILF~!

-OH FUCK GERYON

-If somebody dies this Christmas I'm gonna blow my gasket

-That was a great time.

[ladyaislinn]

"For a long time, I didn't give anything my all. I was so afraid that I'd be crap, so I held myself back". Rufus Sewell

Sewell wurde 1967 in London geboren und sieht seine Kindheit als Schmelztiegel des „Hochstapler-Syndroms, das zu meinem Markenzeichen geworden ist“. Sein Vater William war ein australischer Animator (der an Yellow Submarine der Beatles mitwirkte); Seine Mutter Jo ist eine klassisch ausgebildete Pianistin. Sie trennten sich, als Sewell fünf war.

In den nächsten fünf Jahren verbrachten er und sein älterer Bruder ihre Zeit im Haus ihrer Mutter im Vorort Twickenham und im Studio ihres Vaters im „schäbigen, aber nicht gefährlichen“ Soho und fühlten sich in beiden etwas fehl am Platz. In Soho blieb Sewell lange auf und sah sich Hammer-Horrorfilme mit Charles Laughton und Anthony Hopkins an. Dabei fiel ihm der „räumliche Unterschied“ zwischen dem auf, was auf der Oberfläche des Gesichts eines Schauspielers passierte, und dem, was hinter seinen Augen vor sich zu gehen schien.

Dann, als Sewell gerade 10 Jahre alt war, starb sein Vater – und die Trauer trieb ihn aus der Bahn, er wurde „undiszipliniert“ und schwänzte die Schule. Heute spielt er das herunter: „Schule ist für so viele Kinder eine unangenehme Sache“, sagt er. „Man stellt seine Familie in Frage.“ Man fragt sich, ob man normal ist …“

Es halb auch nicht, dass er, wie er es selbst beschreibt, ein „runder, glitzernder Junge“ mit einer Obsession für David Bowie war. Er färbte sich die Haare orange und sein älterer Bruder gab ihm den Spitznamen Fat White Duke. In einer aktuellen Folge des Branchen-Podcasts erzählte An Actor Despairs dem Moderator Ryan Perez, dass er in der Schule „kein Typ war, auf den die Mädchen standen, und ich hatte mich damit abgefunden.“ Das veränderte sich in meinen Teenagerjahren und die Leute wurden mir gegenüber anders. Ich wurde von der Gruppe akzeptiert, die ich eigentlich verabscheute.“ Diese Erfahrung hinterließ bei ihm eine komplizierte Einstellung zu seinem eigenen Aussehen: das Gefühl, eine Maske zu tragen, die jederzeit verrutschen könnte.“

Die Ferien brachten eine dringend benötigte Erholung vom sozialen Druck – „immer in Wales“, wo seine Eltern ein Haus ohne Strom gekauft hatten. Er erinnert sich, wie er „auf dem Rücksitz eines Morris Minor mit einer Bettdecke und den Katzen über die A-Straßen raste.“ Auf halber Strecke der 10-stündigen Fahrt mussten wir „Hunt the Turd“ spielen. Wir lutschten Bonbons und das Opfer, das man dafür bringen musste, war der Gaumen. Man kam mit blutendem Gaumen an und stank nach Katzenp---. Wir hatten zwei Wochen lang Entzugserscheinungen unserer Lieblingsfernsehsendungen: Der Sechs-Millionen-Dollar-Mann und Top of the Pops. Dann drehten wir ein bisschen durch. Genau wie die Katzen.“

Sewell ist für einen Schauspieler ein ungewöhnlicher Interviewpartner, denn er spricht nur zu gern über seine arbeitslosen Phasen, über frühere Projekte, die ihm nicht gefallen, und über den holprigen Verlauf seiner Karriere – vielleicht, weil in Porträtartikeln oft die unerfüllte Erwartung erwähnt wird, er würde Hollywood im Sturm erobern.

[yhwhrulz]

Charles Spurgeon's "Morning & Evening" Devotional for February 12

Morning

“The Lord heareth you murmurings.”

Exodus 15:22-27

Exodus 15:22

Their first trouble was too much water, the second is too little; our trials are of all kinds.

Exodus 15:23

This was tantalizing, they had water, but could not drink it.

Exodus 15:25 , Exodus 15:26

God has provided remedies for all ills, sweetening trees for bitter waters, and the cross to sweeten all.

Exodus 15:27

It is not all rough work with pilgrims to Canaan, they have their pleasant seasons. Let them thank God for them.

Exodus 16:1-10

Exodus 16:1

It was strange that God should lead two millions of people into a desert, but wisdom directed his course. Strange providences are gracious providences.

Exodus 16:2

With shameful readiness they ran to a low-minded form of complaining. There was no spirit in them. The flesh pots and the bread were all they thought of; the brick-making and the whips they overlooked. It is easy to make out the past to have been bright when we wish to find fault with the present.

Exodus 16:4-5

Our mercies are tests; let us eat and drink to God’s glory.

Exodus 16:8

We think it a small thing to murmur, against parents and friends, but this sheds a new light upon the matter. It is clear that a discontented heart really murmurs against God himself.

Exodus 16:9 , Exodus 16:10

This is a solemn truth; let all grumblers remember it.

The cross on which the Saviour died,

And conquer’d for his saints;

This is the tree by faith applied

To sweeten all complaints.

When we by faith behold the cross,

Though many griefs we meet;

We draw a gain from every loss,

And make our Marahs sweet

Evening

“I am the living bread.”

Exodus 16:11-31

Exodus 16:11-12

One would have expected a far severer rebuke than this, but the Lord was very pitiful towards them, as he is also towards us. These first murmurings were not visited so severely as those further on. The Lord is loath to use his rod.

Exodus 16:15

They had the best of flesh and better than the best of bread. No king’s table was better spread than theirs. Rest assured he who fed murmurers will not desert believers.

Exodus 16:16

Heaven’s bread must be gathered. We must hear the word, and retain it, or it cannot profit us.

Exodus 16:17-19

There were misers in the wilderness, and their hoardings stank; there are other misers now upon the earth, whose scrapings are cankered and corrupt. Covetousness is loathsome.

Exodus 16:21

Yet it could be cooked! Strange that it could bear one heat and not another.

Exodus 16:25 , Exodus 16:26

Thus the seventh day was honoured by the ceasing of the visible manna, but our first-day Sabbath has a double fall of spiritual manna, and we ought to gather in good store for all the week-days.

Exodus 16:27

This was the surest way of stopping the sin, but it was very grievous that a people so marvellously favoured should be guilty of such a superfluous provocation.

Exodus 16:31

God might have made it bitter, but he delights to see his creatures happy. What a blessed God he is!

Day by day the manna fell;

Oh! to learn this lesson well:

Still by constant mercy fed,

Give me, Lord, my daily bread.

“Day by day,” the promise reads;

Daily strength for daily needs;

Cast foreboding fears away;

Take the manna of to-day.

Copyright Statement This resource was produced before 1923 and therefore is considered in the "Public Domain".

[tastylemonbread]

charles boyle is a cop so he deserves everything bad that happens to him but jake is a bad friend. if i was charles' boy best friend i would fuck him till the room stank

[jupiter-knows-things]

my classmates STANK

imagine ur me. walking up to my locker at the start of my day and grabbing my shit.

all of a sudden i get a WHIFF of something absolutley FFFOOOUULLL that i have to PHYSICALLY hold my breath.

do these people not know what deodorant is. or a shower. i pile on perfume every morning because i am PARANOID of smelling liek these guys.

the issue is that if the people who radiate a green aura just showered and did their hair and worked out and got a good personality they wouldn't be all too horrible

like i sometimes talk to these kids and i go on my nerd rant abt thsc and they're listening because they know what it is and it makes me so happy

but then they go on to say the CRINGIEST thing ever about my boy charles calvin.

cmon man.

[lewistoferrari]

Imagine being the chaotic one at a GP and scaring the drivers!

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DA5Hn7CNU5P/?igsh=cW4ya3p5dGR6bGFv

Ngl, the one that ran into the pole made me think of Alex. 🫢🤭

the men are so dramatic in this please i’m crying. gonna give them a mini heart attack ahdjdkd

alex, oscar (although he may just give you a stank face), lando and charles & maybe carlos will definitely be the screaming ones. max is gonna cuss someone out and lewis will be unimpressed

[edenweeps]

Rating Marvel characters by how confident I am in my ability to axcurately or at least interestly write them in an RP or a fanfic:

1. Hella, goth moose lady (I have So Many Headcanons)

2. Logan. Wolverine, is he Texan or Canadian? who knows

3. Peggy Carter (specifically as Captain Carter, but regular old CA:tFA Peggy Carter too) (insert pegging joke)

I feel it is relevant to mention that I do not read comics, this is all based on the MCU and the various X-Men movies

4. Tiny Stank, Metal Dude (more headcanons! angsty ones!)

5. Clart Binton, arrow boy

6. Loki, the emo emperor themself

7. Wade Wilson, cancer man

8. Natasha Romanoff, ninja lady

9. Phil Coulson (his first name is actually Agent)

10. Melinda May, the Best

11. Charles Xavier, the Worst

12. Frank Castle (my ex did it and he sucked, so I should be able to do it just fine)

13. Nick Fury (but I would make him curse. a lot. he's earned it.)

Honorable mentions: your mom, Aunt May, and Odin (but the biggest dick ever)