#banker x faceless

[meowczafhaye]

Lenny's wonderland - Showdown bandit fanchild AU

here's the wonderland AU of Bella as the Cheshire cat, Lenny as alice and Scarlett as the mad hatter

[multi-level-shipper]

Forbidden romance

[mutatedleemon]

This question was: “Banker, Banker, will you and Mister Carver have a wedding?”

The answer is obvious here. I love this dolls wtf

[cl0wnhaus]

assorted pubbets

[kiraqueenbtd]

Yeah, idk

[insane-control-room]

Make a Claim

A collaborative work with the wonderful, incredible, lovely, @randomwriteronline (ilysm <<<333)

ao3 link here

inspired by her fic The Thought 

After a grave mistake, the doctor finally asks him, plain as day, to make their claim their own.

“I am at my wits end, Bandit!” Doc Carver muttered in a loss as he repaired the foolhardy puppet’s strings. “I have tried everything - letters, poems, offers to help him, repair him, even repainting his chipped coat! I cannot understand how a man can be so, so oblivious!”

Bandit did not say anything, merely sighing. He was used to the Doctor’s spiel at this point.

“And to add insult to injury...! After I repainted him, he hugged me, and I felt so overjoyed, but…” a noise of frustration broke out of the taller puppet’s mouth piece. “It was too short lived! And then he ran off, and I, like a coward, was too dumbfounded and startled to even try and go after him, so I didn’t follow. Ugh, that was just simply pathetic, wasn’t it, Bandit?”

“Dunno, doc,” he shrugged. “Never tried courtin’ someone, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Carver grumbled. “You know, you’re a great listener, Bandit.”

Looking into Bandit’s tired, cold, dead eyes, one could see that yes, he did in fact know he was a good listener, especially after having to hear these exact words being told to him a plethora of times. Far too many times, in his opinion. Doc had a bad habit of repeating himself, nearly as bad a habit as Banker’s natural stutter. But, honestly, Bandit did not really mind - it was comforting to have some sort of repetition, something natural and flowing, a familiar back and forth between the attempts at not dying any time he stepped outside of his few friends’ sight.

So he just stood, with the face of someone who was about to doze the hell off, as Carver grumbled away his woes and stitched his strings up. To the doctor's reminder to take care of himself, he replied with a firm thumbs up, and then he waddled awkwardly into what in an episode might have been the glorious sunset, but in this case was only another door through to the wild.

Leaving the good doctor alone. Wooden fingers drummed against the unpolished counter of his workstation, filling the deathly quiet world with a steady rhythm. An impatience filled his head, that constant nagging feeling to do something, anything. Instantly his thoughts turned to the Banker, the sweet, timid, scared Banker, and those thoughts curled around daring ideas and wishes like ivy growing steadily on an old house's wall; he shoved them away, just as the Banker had shoved him away. Yet they kept coming back, filling his mind over and over. Carver leaned against the wall heavily with the soft thud of wood on wood, rubbing at his face with a grumble. Another day, another lovesick time. He smiled wryly to himself, humoring his conundrum. A doctor's worst patient is themself, he concluded bitterly, and he could not heal his own aching heart, despite his biggest efforts. He slid down the wall, trying to quell his murmuring mind, so absolutely wanting, no, craving, no, needing another’s touch. Specifically, the gentle, shaky, newly restored touch of Banker. But it was not like he could just, just up and ask him! Oh, goodness, no! The gall, the audacity! Carver scowled, stuffing his hands into his pockets, then took out, picking up his saw to go out into the wild. He was running short on needle and thread anyways, especially with how often Bandit was getting himself de-stringed nowadays.

So he would return to his old place, murder decimate destroy harvest some aracknits, and pick up more thread.

On his way, he encountered a bank booth. He only got a glimpse of something - or rather, someone, a particular someone who wore a shirt of the same light blue as that of the sleeves he saw retreating into the dark right before leaving the place completely empty. Carver stared at the empty bank for a little, recalling the man that had been in it but moments before. Then, with a heavy, sorrowful sigh, he forced his legs to move past it. It would not have done much for either of them anyways, standing in front of each other, waiting for something to happen, and that yet, knowing their clashing natures, simply never would. Hefting his saw over his shoulder, he crept into Dead Man’s Gulch -- and then into the place he used to call home.

The sound of the spider-like creatures sent shivers up his wooden spine, the inebriating thrill of the hunt filling his chest. He forced himself to keep calm and still his nerves, knowing the adrenaline rushing in what he could consider veins would only give him shaky hands, like those of the Banker he so cherished. But he could not risk having them, not now. He silently stalked through the halls, a thin and lithe coyote between hazy sand stone creeping up to its prey.

A distinctly recognizable sound caught his attention. Ah-ha!, he thought, crouching furtively out of sight. There it was: one of those awful little yarn devils, scuttling around in the shade of the doctor's old home with his needle tick-tick-ticking all over the wooden floor. A quick, painless bounty of thread for the blade of Carver's saw. The Doc slowly crept closer and closer, trying to hide the glint of his weapon from his eyeless prey, sneaking forward without letting himself make a single sound…

A fulminous zac!, and the aracknit dissolved into a bunch of strings with four needles attached.

Carver grinned, at least, the best he could with a solid mouth, satisfied. He still got it.

He stopped to gather the materials, keeping himself from humming and attracting too many of the little beasties. A skittering passed behind him.  He froze, readying his saw once more. He turned his head ever so slowly, his motions nearly unperceivable... An aracknit rushed by, and he swung, missing, his saw flying out of his nervous grip. He swore under his breath, chasting his own hastiness and going to retrieve it, but another spider ran by him and stole it from under his reaching hand. A hiss, long and slow, and so, so, so very many quiet, ticking aracknits. He tried to creep out of his corner, but found every stealthy pass blocked by yarny webs. Without a weapon, there was no way he could go through an open area. He would lose his strings in a matter of seconds if he even attempted to do so! Color slowly drained out of his vision, and he cursed his worsening luck. He could feel his wooden heart beat, faster and faster. More scampering. He demanded of himself to slow his breathing, and could not.

“Well, well, well, well, well,” the air turned cold. The supposed to be jolly and high voice creaked and rasped lowly, angrily, softly, dangerously.  “What, or rather, who, do we have here, caught in the webs of his own prey?”

Carver stayed silent, going at a crawl to the thinnest web, planning on breaking through it and making a mad dash to the exit. The sound of the Faceless Bandit’s three footsteps clacked loudly in the still, dusty air, the scampering aracknits now far too quiet in comparison to the terrifying approach. Perhaps because they too, as simpleminded as a bug of raw yarn can be, could not help but being afraid of the scarred danger slowly coming closer.

“I didn’t know you were Dr. Jekyll,” Faceless chuckled, making the wood of Carver’s back to ripple in disgust. “Seeing that you’re playing around with Mr. Hyde.”

Doc Carver scowled. Goodness, how much he despised the other’s use of terrible puns.

“Stop playing around, my dear Doctor,” his words turned the land foul. The dead shivered and rose, disturbed from what should have been their peaceful eternal rest. “You can’t avoid me forever, you know….”

‘Yeah, right’, Carver rolled his eyes, then refocused onto the web he planned on escaping through. He poised himself to run, breathing in, waiting for Faceless to turn around… and the moment he did, he bolted with a, “Ha !”

It was a mistake.

A grave one.

Of course it was all planned out, of course there would not be a weak spot. After all, wherever a bone breaks, it becomes stronger than before.

Dozens and dozens of aracknits surrounded him, wooly fangs bared. Some trembled, others ducked away, and Carver realized that--

“They listen to me,” Faceless droned behind him. He grew very still. “Out of fear, yes, but still… aren’t they so cute? So sweet? So helpful?”

The doctor ran into the crowd of the small eight legged monsters, the spiders parting like a sea, but also like a sea, instantly drove back.

An aracknit jumped at Carver, and he tried to bat it away with his open arm, but it just scampered onto him, leaving a woven strand over his wrist, and jumped away.

Another did the same to his other side, and he struggled even more, despite the fact that he was given less and less ability to do so.

He felt a string snap, and his left leg gave out, leaving him stumbling to the ground. Second came the right arm. He screamed, not to ask for help, knowing no one would hear him, but to try and bolster his own strength: he bashed an aracknit down and restringed him arm, then going back to fighting with every ounce of strength he could have found desperately still kicking in his wooden limbs.

The aracknits kept coming, the few dozens that were cornering him turning into a swarm that only grew bigger at every turn of his head, crawling out of every single nook and cranny. They bit down on his strings almost faster than he could sew them back up (but luckily, not quite as fast), all while stabbing his legs with their small damned needles as they attempted to climb him, possibly to feed off of him, maybe to try to escape their terrifying master by reaching the top of the doctor's head.

Carver felt their webs wrap around him, pulling him back, swirling around him tight, tighter than the knot of a noose, tying him to the ground and the walls, nearly forcing him on his knees. He screamed - not to be heard, not to gather strength: he screamed in pure terror, almost as though he hoped the sound of his voice would delay the inevitable.

A fly. He was a fly, a careless naive fly, who had thought he could outrun the spiders only to fall in their mother's trap, the hunter becoming the hunted - and soon to be the slaughtered.

He gave one last weakened kick before his legs became a useless mermaid’s tail on land, only barely managing to hit an aracknit strong enough to shoo it away before the string wavered away, dropping onto ash. The little beastie tumbled over, legs frantically moving in a terrified attempt to scramble back onto them, and he pitied it, the shared pain of two prisoners trapped beyond their powers, and he wished that it could get to its feet, to give him a sign of hope that he too would rise, but alas.

It was crushed under the handle of an approaching scythe.

Its needles stiffened and twitched, fighting one last time against their lightning quick rigor mortis; then, it dissolved into a puddle of string under Carver's horrified eyes.

Silence. Accursed, blasphemous, terrifying silence. All the doctor could hear was his own panting breath. He had one string left, and a scythe tugged on it for a moment before sliding down his face, making his head tilt this way and that, as if inspecting a specimen most curiously.

The two puppets were still, and silent.

Not a spider crawled, not a soul moved, nothing breathed and it was all so strikingly obvious to Carver. Of course, of course, why should he have gone back here? He should have baited the aracknits out instead of going in like a fool, a cretin, a pup still unaware of the sly tactics of hunting, thinking it all as fun and games. How foolish he had been!

He wished that he was somewhere else.

Somewhere safe.

Somewhere to feel at home.

Hanging up his apron in the hall after a fulfilling day of making puppets feel better and smile, going into a cozy living room to join hands with a smiling Banker, to rest with tea in front of a warm fire and good book, simple domestic perfection and tranquility. That was all he wanted. Was it really too much to ask for…?

It seemed so.

A golden tear bubbled up in his eye, and he blinked rapidly to force it away.

It slid down his face, trailing down his scar.

His wooden skin crawled as a scarred and ripped hand came to rest on that mark, and he turned icy cold, shivering. God, how he wished a different, trembling, gentle hand were there! Even if he were in the same position, bound and inflexible and defenseless, he would have given anything for it. For that sweet intoxicating touch, the throne of which was instead being usurped by dirty, loathing, scratching fingers.

“Oh, my dearest Doctor Carver,” the mangled puppet laughed, his words airless. “You always were my least favorite. Always stealing from me those delightful strings of the weakened, of the broken and bent. And you, so resilient and resistant! Why so much of a fuss, hm?”

The doctor felt a knot tie in his throat. He forced himself to stare straight at the eyeless being looming cruelly before him in total defiance: if he was going to die there and then, he would have not given that piece of tumbleweed the satisfaction of seeing him bend his head to him.

“What is it, Doc?” the Faceless hissed, yanking him with annoyance at his silence, scratching at his face, gouging three sharp cuts under his scar that would have bled if the doctor had blood instead of sap, which oozed out of the crevices. “Cat got your tongue? Or did you ever have one? I doubt it, seeing as you’re quite dumb right now.”

Carver inhaled with a low growl.

“Go to hell.” he merely grumbled.

“Ooh, how raunchy,” Faceless snarked back, cutting into his own face with his scythe to display any kind of expression, the smirk he left in his own face jagged and twisted. Carver felt his stomach churn with frost at the sight, so crude and, and unnatural. The scythe returned to the bottom of his chin, sliding up to the top of his head to hook around the string that resided there. Carver shivered as he felt his singular string slowly sawed at.

The Faceless Bandit held his head firmly with one hand, pulled back his arm a little, swiftly, and-

Shhh.

Then there was nothing.

Death felt so weird, the doctor thought.

He had imagined it crueler, darker, colder, more painful. Lonelier.

Instead he felt only… suspended. As if in wait. For what, he could not tell. But it was a peaceful waiting, and he felt far from afraid.

He was enveloped into a gentle, vast hold. A warm, ginormous finger touched his face, tapping each of his eyes, and he felt air seep into his lungs once more.

Another hand carefully, gently, cautiously and lovingly placed strings onto his limbs.

The hands slowly vanished, and he found himself put into something enclosing and… safe?

And then he felt alive.

Which was not ideal, because it made him realize that he was in a claustrophobic and dark space, and with his most recent memories being those of his body tied up in yarn among an army of aracknits and every last one of his strings being cut by the cruel scythe of a criminal lacking a face, so he panicked and kicked the air in front of himself as hard as he could to escape his dark prison.

The Banker nearly had a heart attack when the coffin next to bank opened with a loud noise - only nearly, because he did not actually have a heart or circulatory system.

“B-Bandit? Is, is that you?” Banker’s sweet, timid, wonderful wonderful wonderful beautiful darling amazing incredible voice rang out in the empty room. The doctor pleaded in his heart, unable to find his voice, still gasping and panting, trembling and teary, ‘Oh, please, say more, speak more, keep talking, fill the void.’ There were quiet footsteps, the Banker creeping slowly out of his booth. “L-Lorelei? L-Lookout? Uh, um, Mr., Mr. West?”

And then he stood before him, looking down at the Doctor with four wide eyes.

Carver knew he was a mess, he knew he was shaking and sitting in the bottom of a coffin like container as his tears froze in his eyes, but the moment he saw the Banker looking down at him, silently, mouth open in a slight shock, he felt his frosted heart melt, finally filling his body with relieving warmth, color finally returning to his vision, and his shoulders finally untensed as he looked up at him with total and complete admiration.

The Banker stood, fidgeting with his hands nervously. He was about to start scratching them, but he stopped himself: the doctor had put a lot of time and… and care (wonderful, dutiful, devoted care, whispered the ghost of a thought in his mind) into that coat of paint. He couldn't just… he couldn't just ruin it like that. And, well, he couldn't, he couldn't just leave him there, hazy and frightened and in need of help, either.

He lent him his hand as that terrible fear gnawed at his stomach: “I, I didn't expect you to, to be here, D-Doc.”

Carver grabbed the appendix with both hands, pressing his fingers against its palms. He did not make any motion to stand up; completely honestly, he did not want to. He just wanted to hold it, to hold him, to feel the other puppet's arm curl against him, a soft, shy and gentle shield of blue and brown hues, of tremors and stutters, warming him endlessly. Oh, how he needed it! How he wished for it terribly, now and forever...

“D-Doc Carver?” the Banker felt that fire burn from his fingertips, spreading up his arm. He swallowed roughly to keep it from his face. “D-do you need to make a c-claim?”

“Yes,” he breathed, and pulled Banker’s hand down, close to his heart. Banker stared at him with wide eyes, big, terrified eyes. “Yes, I do, please, Banker, please… grant me this one claim.”

Banker trembled, and still, he asked; “What?”

“I've just been struck down with death,” Carver nearly whispered, eyes glazed with tears. “I have lost my confidence, please, Banker, dear, dear Banker of mine, please, kiss me with life, restore my confidence, please, that's the only claim I ask of you.”

Carver squeezed the hand tight, afraid it would escape his grip, knowing it could.

“K-kiss you?” Banker squeaked, eyes wide, the searing sensations spreading all over his face and neck, but, how enrapturing and captivating those burns were! And how loud the echo of the thought he'd been sure to have killed was! His fear tugged him away, or so it tried, for his body wouldn't move an inch.

Carver nodded, his eyes pleading, as he rubbed his face on the back of the hand, murmuring ‘please, please’ over and over, knowing rejection would have killed him on the spot, and yet not finding the will to care for it. Though he wouldn't beg for life from the Faceless Bandit that so hated him, he would beg and plead for death from the Banker he so adored.

The Banker breathed heavily, shivering. His head shook ever so slightly.

“N, no, no…” he whispered as he kneeled in front of the other puppet; “No, no…”, as he let the doctor cup his cheeks and rub his face on them; “No, no, no, no…”, as he returned the other's affection, kissing him in the way a puppet can kiss, wooden faces scratching ever so softly against each other, slowly, then faster; “No, no, no…”, as his fingers finally curled around the stitches of Carver's scar, stroking it idly, pushing away the tears that slowly dripped from the other’s face, finally seeing his fear as what it was: no fear at all, not even close to fear, even. It was something softer, something that he had selfishly denied himself through his own blindness. Oh, what good were four eyes when he could not use them to see what was right in front of him? What good was the blessing of sight without letting himself revel in the beautiful image in front of him? What good was living to play a part and nothing more if it did not allow him to have the gift of, the, no, his, his dear, dear, darling doctor to gaze upon?

He held Carver closer, nuzzling harder against him. The fire divamping inside him boiled and burned, it begged to be released, to be imprinted on the other puppet for all to see. He was kissing it into Doc, but it was not, it could not be enough. A single face was too restrictive, and he had to improvise, he had to figure out a way to make it more, to have more of the doctor pinned under him, to show him that yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, this was right and wanted and good.

His hand begrudgingly left the side of Carver's head and instead grabbed with all of its strength his arm. The good doctor nearly jumped up from his seat in the case, surprised, left breathless. His own fingers curled around the Banker's forearm, but the kiss they pressed against him was weak, not nearly as deep and passionate as the one pushing into his limb, far more shy and trembling, a near reverse of their usual attitudes. Carver’s whole being shivered with warmth. And oh, oh!, it was so good! So very good, so very delicious, the sensation spreading from that long, long kiss to the rest of his body… goodness, he was addicted to it already. That was it, his only wish, his reason to live. All he wanted was for that magnificent pressure to never soften and leave.

But the Banker had other plans. For him, it was too long, too time consuming; it didn't let him give Carver everything they both wanted desperately after letting so much time pass by. So instead he began to grab and release, grab and release, fast and hungry, pressing quick hasty kisses all over the doctor. On his arms, his chest, his neck, his shoulders, his sides - to hell with his part!, to hell with his fear! - even reaching further down, gripping Carver’s hips and legs in a frenzy, dominated by nothing but the burning embers inside of his wooden frame that pushed him to love and love and love again.

Carver was too slow to reply to those attentions, and he found himself overwhelmed. He was in an almost comatose bliss, jolting and shivering with little gasps and murmurs of, “Yes, yes, p-please, yes….”, only barely managing to nuzzle back his lover's face, goodness gracious, this was it, the moment he always dreamed of, his lover, they were lovers now. He did not feel like himself, not at all. He was out of his body, out of his mind, looking down on that scene from a warm cloud of ecstasy, the prickling of pleasure taking over him in waves.

It took what felt like ages, for the Banker's wild rush of claiming Carver as his to consume itself. It exhausted them both, to the point where they were moments away from collapsing entirely in the box Carver rested in, seconds from slipping into pure bliss and tranquility. They held each other close as they rested, panting softly, Banker’s hand finally finding its place on Carver’s cheek, gently trailing the scar there. Then he felt the ridges, his eyes widening, and he pulled away a bit to inspect the mark, and to his horror and sadness found the three fresh cuts under his hand.

“C-Carver, you, you’re hurt!” he exclaimed, his gentle shaky fingers turning the doctor’s head to inspect the cuts better. “O-Oh dear, why didn't, why didn’t you t-tell me?”

“It’s fine, it really is,” Carver reassured him, though he leaned into and reveled in his touch. “It’s nothing that I can’t mend.”

Banker frowned at that, and so Carver might have even said something more, had a not-so-freshly-painted-anymore visage not rubbed gently on his wounds, kissing away the sap seeping from the small gouges. The kiss threw him for an incredulous loop, stunning him. Had his wood been replaced by flesh, he would have been redder than a blooming hibiscus.

Perhaps it was seeing the doctor like that that slowly brought the four-eyed puppet to his senses. All those newly formed memories reverberated in his mind, slowly becoming clear, first their gentle, almost reluctant, kiss, then the frenzied adrenalinic boiling and burning and exploding cravings that had taken control of him, and finally, when he realized the spontaneous act of kissing those little scrapes, he finally got a grasp on his actions. He gradually began shaking, hands going to cover his mouth already muttering apologies, his legs trying to push him to his feet - oh, but Carver would not have any of it.

His gentle grip tightened around the other's waist, keeping him from escaping into the dark of his shame. Banker would have blushed furiously had he skin, feeling the rippling strength of Doc Carver’s arm around him, his breath hitching as those thoughts that he thought he killed earlier swarmed back into his mind. The doctor collected himself as well, slowly, naturally slipping back into his ordinarily calm and proper self, just like the Banker had returned to his anxieties and worries, their regular personalities bleeding back into their forms as if regaining consciousness after a long sleep.

“Dear,” goodness, how wonderful it felt to say that, “Dear, darling, love, what's troubling you?”

“I- I, I… Doc, I-”

“Carver, dear, please. Carver is just fine.”

“I, I… Car, Carver, I didn't - oh, oh god, I'm, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-”

“Oh, you did!” the doctor adamantly insisted, his eyes widening, but in complete confidence. “We’re… us now. It’s okay, we’re okay… I’m here, you’re here, it’s okay. We… we are good.”

The Banker tried shrinking himself in the other's arms without much success. Carver merely huffed, an adoring look in his eyes, and brought him closer. His gentle nuzzles onto his recently repainted cheek were a balm for the Banker's nerves.

“There's nothing to fear, my darling.” he murmured into the puppet’s ears, feeling him relax from his smooth accent, melting against him in a pleasant warmth, “Hm, but your booth… it seems quite comfortable, wouldn't you say?”

The other nodded, humming absentmindedly, one of his hands trailing up Carver’s arm, twirling around his neck to run over his hair. He had always wondered how it felt, and now found that it was not only wood, but covered in felt to give it a soft velvety texture, and the same went for his handlebar moustache. Come to think of it, nearly everything about the doctor was just so soft and warmly inviting.

“Should we head over to it, then?” Carver's voice caught up to him, pulling him back to reality, yet sending him from one pleasant distraction to another. He barely had to answer, the slightest sigh and the smallest nod, and the doctor slid a firm and strong hand under his knees, and rose him up, carrying him into the bank much like a newly wed groom carries his beloved man into their just made house.

There was some cloth folded in a corner, arranged as if to simulate what could have once seemed like a bed which clearly had been abandoned for the anxious Banker’s many sleepless nights, him preferring instead to pass out in fear on his counter.

The doctor laid him on top of the covers gently before positioning himself on top of him. One of his hands tenderly stroked his cheek, his legs straddling the Banker, looking down at him, eyes shielded by his glasses, though behind those lenses, his eyes were full of pure admiration.

The four-eyed puppet adjusted himself under his weight almost sleepily: “Carver, love…” oh, to be called like that forever and always, what shivers did it send down his spine!, “What…”

“Please, my dearest.” Carver leaned down to press kisses to his throat, and purred against his neck, hands pressing light kisses with thumbs swirling on wooden skin so gently, “You don't truly think I am sated of your kisses? I waited so long for you…”

The Banker sighed blissfully, body melting and becoming as soft as warm clay. He wrapped his arms around his dear, dear lover and let his head fall back on the bed that hadn't seen him in weeks, basking in the wonderful burn enveloping him.

How curious, he thought to himself. He could hear a hummingbird sing in the back of his mind.

For some odd reason, he heard Bandit clear his throat in the back of his mind too.

Then Doc Carver let out a small grumbling shriek, rolling over and tumbling off of a Banker too hazy to notice anything.

“H-Hello Bandit!” Carver stumbled over his words as the cowboy looked at them from the counter where his elbow was leaning on. The four-eyed puppet called for him needily, drawling out the last part of the doctor’s name, his grasp on reality basically non-existent. Carver turned bright red. “F-fancy seeing you here….”

“Sure is, Doc, sure is.” Showdown smiled, cheek resting in his hand, giving him a quick wink. “Mind if I make a deposit?”

“Um, sure,” the doctor stuttered, rushing to the desk to swipe the cash, hastily dumping it in a vault labeled ‘SHOWDOWN BANDIT’.

The cowboy tipped his hat politely: “Thanks, Doc.”

“N-no problem,” he mumbled, staring at the ground.

“Now I suggest ya go back to yer other business. He sounds pretty… um… critical.” Showdown nodded in the direction of the lovestruck Banker. The doctor tried to swallow, and failed. “Y’know what I mean, Doc?”

“Carveeeer, love, please… please, where did you go?” the poor soul lamented, turning on the bed. “You're so cruel, so cruel… ! Oh, love, please… please, I need you… !”

“I know.” Carver muttered to Showdown, closing the Bank’s shutters and swiftly turning around, rushing back into the arms of his darling, finally together.

[lizzylizard999]

Okay, this is just pure beauty, can this get a 100 reblogs? )X"D

And they lived happily ever after.

For twenty minutes.

[artdemoncat]

*Slides in* Hey Bandit....I ship you and Faceless Bandit. (Pssst here are my ships too: Bandit x Penny,Penny x Miss Undertaker,Banker x Doc Craver).

[halfusek]

Alright then, time for some new ships! I'd like to introduce...FacelessFrenzy (Faceless Bandit x Frenzy) and DocBank (Doc Carver x Banker)!

I feel like these could be more creative :0c

[cloudcryptid]

My ships: Penny x Bandit Bandit x Faceless Bandit Banker x Doc Craver Penny x Miss Undertaker

all good ships i say

[meowczafhaye]

Danny's strong girlfriend - showdown bandit fanchild

Danny also had his strong girlfriend, Scarlett

Danny (Danker) - banker and doc carver's son

Scarlett (Scarless show bandit) - showdown bandit and faceless bandit's daughter

[multi-level-shipper]

Although I know you are more of a banker x faceless bandit, do you have any opinion on showdown Bandit x faceless bandit as a pairing?

self love

[wknc881]

CLASSIC REVIEW: DEAD KENNEDYS- Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables 

BEST TRACKS: Kill the Poor, Holiday in Cambodia, California Uber Alles, Ill in the Head

  “Just when you think tastelessness has reached its nadir, along comes a punk rock group called ‘The Dead Kennedys'” read a San Francisco Chronicle article from November 1978, “they will play at Mabuhay Gardens on Nov. 22, the 15th anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s assassination.“  Geez, what kind of chutzpah do you need to mock America’s most tragically iconic family on the anniversary of its most notable horror? Well, the Dead Kennedys were all chutzpah; in fact, they were practically bursting at the seams to brutally mock any American institution guilty of abhorrent injustice (and of course, there are many).  Though not attacking the Kennedy family directly so as to twist the magic bullet (I’m sorry), the apparent curse upon the 20th-century clan of American idealism was a perfect brand for a group whose entire existence hinged on a sardonic articulation of anarchist paragons. The Dead Kennedys were the first explicitly political American punk band.  Bands like X or Black Flag may have been indirectly political in their focus on youthful alienation, but the Dead Kennedys, specifically lead singer Jello Biafra, were completely committed to calling out by name each and every faceless establishment villain who was unfortunate enough to find themselves caught in Biafra’s latex-coated crosshairs. It was not introspection; it was full-fleshed Juvenalian satire. While Black Flag was screaming about being a skate-punk burnout in LA basements, the DKs were hammering Pol Pot, Jerry Brown’s “zen fascists”, privileged college students, unmitigated capitalism, and police brutality in San Francisco’s, well, basements.  Their sound was an absurd combination of screeching feedback, overly laid-back surf rock, spoken word, and performance art. Biafra, always keen on any form of the alternative spotlight, was never at a loss for intentionally aggravating pranks which furthered his desire for total demolition of post-war America. These included illegally using warped pictures of other bands for liner notes, abrasively declaring that then-Governor Jerry Brown was actually a hippie Nazi, or running for mayor of San Francisco on a platform of outlawing cars and demolishing all Government buildings. Whatever cliched pattern that today’s alternative rock falls behind in their lazy conviction of powers-that-be (ahem American Idiot) is derivative of the Dead Kennedy’s extremely meticulous establishment of punk rock as a political force.  They were ideologically consistent, absolutely non-partisan, and, perhaps most importantly, fully committed to an absurdist approach to music that highlighted the very serious realities of injustice. 

  In 1978’s San Francisco, 20-year-old guitarist Raymond Pepperell put out an ad in “The Recycler” for bandmates for form a punk group.  Two people responded: bassist (and banker) Geoffrey Lyall and poet/singer Eric Boucher. The three were rechristened as East Bay Ray, Klaus Flouride and, of course, Jello Biafra.  Their first shows around the Bay Area garnered significant attention (both positive and negative) for somehow being in worse taste than even the raunchiest American punk acts. Cartoonish, catchy, and absolutely confrontational, Biafra gained infamy through his highly animated stage presence which included often dousing the audience in beer or destroying pieces of the stage.  It is important to note, however, that the Kennedy’s performative violence was not out of angst, but rather part of a tongue-in-cheek attitude towards the establishment. A typical snapshot of a Kennedy’s live performance saw East Bay Ray hammering away at distorted spaghetti western riff while Biafra bellowed out how much the government wanted to kill you while kicking at the walls with a massive grin on his face. Declaring himself the band’s primary songwriter, Biafra would tape record melodies using only his voice which his band would later transcribe onto their respective instruments.  Of their early written material, one song stood out for being particularly catchy and scathing. “California Uber Alles” was released Summer of 1979 as the Dead Kennedys’ first single. With military-esque drumming, bastardized surf guitar, a cheeky flamenco melody, Jello’s typical outrageous bellow, and lyrics condemning then Democratic Governor Jerry Brown as a hippie fascist, the band distilled everything in within the DKs essence into their very first recording. And while their embrace of non-power chord guitar lines and heavy political overtones was enough to set them apart from any American contemporary, it was “California Uber Alles’” subject matter which is most representative of while the Dead Kennedys were such a unique and integral group.  Attacking Jerry Brown, at first, is incredibly confusing. Ronald Reagan, Brown’s predecessor as California’s governor, had just been elected president and, unsurprisingly, was incredibly unpopular among punks. Why would they go after California’s new “cool guy” Democrat as opposed to Ronald fucking Reagan? Well, simply put, the Gipper was too easy a target. Jello Biafra wanted confrontation, an interruption of American organization beyond partisan attacks on low-hanging fruit. Of course Reagan was terrible, but so was Brown. The Dead Kennedys were anarchists; attacking Reagan would be redundant and a lazy cash grab for a band whose entire ethos hinged on a dismantling of the state. And ultimately this decision was imperative for the band eventually signing a deal with independent British label Cherry Red; the DKs now had the chance to record a full length album.  A whole album was given to Biafra and his band to yelp and screech about international injustice in the most sarcastic manner possible. As one would expect, it’s a lot to get through in one sitting; and as one would expect, it’s an amazing album. 

  “Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables” opens with a fitting introduction to the listeners next 40 minutes of acerbic, macabre, and ludicrous fun: “Kill the Poor”.  The song begins with massive chords reminiscent of over bloated 70s arena rock laid on top of Biafra’s lyrics concerning a government who has discovered the neutron bomb and will subsequently use it to kill all of their nation’s poor.  A blistering surf-punk riff tears down its introduction and the song instantly transforms into a breakneck bounce of sing-along melodies that wouldn’t be out of place in a Disney movie. “Kill the Poor”, despite its placement at the top of the tracklist, is a pinnacle only matched by two other tracks. One of these is a crisp re-recording of “California Uber Alles” while the other is, well, probably pretty familiar to a lot of you readers.  The Guitar Hero Classic: “Holiday in Cambodia”. The angst-infected alt-classic opens with an atmosphere, echoed guitar chaos lightly strewn over the unforgettably chunky, descending bass riff before erupting into the bone-chillingly excellent main riff. Churning like an unpleasant halloween acid trip, the song is undoubtedly Biafra’s most scathing performance on the album. As he attacks privileged Americans by contrasting their life with victims of Pol Pot’s Cambodian regime, the other Kennedys lock into a terrifying groove filled with bastard surf motifs and disgustingly sweet distortion. The chorus, as with any classic Dead Kennedys track, is incredibly catchy.  It entices the listener to sing it to themselves when they’re aren’t even thinking of it, as if to trick them into condemning very basic pieces of American civilization. There’s a reason “Holiday in Cambodia” is still the DKs most well known song: it’s haunting, brutally honest, wholly subversive, genius, ear candy. 

  “Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables” is the album most people immediately associate with the Dead Kennedys, and this is by no means something to complain about.  Hosting three of the bands best songs and even providing insanely smart and concise parody in its filler, the album is a perfect representation of punk rock’s potential as a force of American political commentary.  No punk band before the DKs came close to explicitly tackling horrendous societal hypocrisies and I don’t believe any band that has come since has done this nearly as well. In an alternate timeline without our anarchist heroes, the landscape of all American music would be undoubtedly changed.

  -Cliff Jenkins

[fadingpersoncollectorstuff-blog]

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"how much to add a teenager to car insurance

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Where can i get complete information about business insurance ?

where can i get the complete data for business insurance ..

""What the best, and cheapest car insurance to get full coverage on??""

I moved to another state, need to change insurance companies, and have a 2000 pontiac sunfire.. its still in good shape and would like full coverage. What the BEST, and cheapest insurance to get full coverage on??""

How to get the best quotes in car insurance?

i am looking for the best US quotes in car insurance. Some free service that provides some tips and tricks to get good deals on car insurance.

Were can i get an auto insurance quote for cars PRE 1981?

i am thinking of buying either a 1965 mustang a 1969 mustang a 1970 mustang or a 1965-69 lincoln continental... and i wanted to get cheap insurance quotes.... but all the sites like progressive, geico, allstate only let you insure at lowest 81 any one know a good quote site""

Where to get cheap public liability insurance?

Please help !!! need cheap public liability insurance

""IMPORTANT: Young, pregnant, no money! Any advice on how I wil get by?

I am 24 and pretty sure that I am pregnant (will be going to the doctor on monday to verify). I don't make a lot of money and I was wondering how other women have done it. In my head it seems impossible to afford a child. Advice please.

Help Car Insurance help?

Im 16 and im gettin a 2003 cadillac CTS when i get my licences and i have a few questions. The car is $10,932 how much would the down payment be also how much monthly plus insurance?""

Can I be forced to pay insurance for stepchild?

Here's the situation. My husband makes very little money. I have him covered under my insurance policy. Until recently, my stepdaughter was covered under Child Health Care Plus. Coverage stopped when she turned 15. Her real mother is being a real witch and demanding we buy her insurance. Hubby can't afford it. I can't enroll her under my employer's plan because there's only open enrollment one month per year. I really don't WANT to put her on my policy, as she seems determined to get pregnant ASAP, and also she hates me and steals from me. Can I be FORCED to get her insurance? Oh, and did I mention her real mother doesn't work? HELP!!!!""

How much would car insurance cost me?

IM 17, have a 3.67 gpa, the car will be a 98 van, and w/ that driver education training thing how much would it be.""

Teenage insurance?

Id there any way how you can avoid paying for teen insurance? (Because the family insurer usually raises price as soon as the teen in the family gets license) If not, how to get cheap insurance?""

Health Insurance Not Taken Out from Check?

I got an extra 84 bucks in my check bc they didn't take out for health insurance? Was this just a mistake?

Most affordable auto insurance?

I need a cheap auto insurance cuz my husband is laid off. We have two cars and we only have one ticket in the last three years.

How to get health insurance?

I was laid off from work a little over two months ago. Unemployment pays me 405 a week. After taxes I bring home about $1400 for the month. I nearly get by now paying my rent and my car. How can I get health insurance at lo cost or no cost?

Do I need to declare to my insurance company If I change my alloy wheels.?

It currently has the factory 16 alloy wheels on but 2 of them are buckled. I don't want to buy new ones the same as this seems to be a common problem with ford fiesta alloys so was thinking of replacing them with the same size alloys of a different brand. Do I have to declare this to my insurance company?

Requirements for california drivers license?

how many behind the wheel professional training hours are required in the state of california in order to get a license?

Home insurance?

im looking for some insurance that will mean if either my fiancee or i die our house will be paid off in full (this way our kids have a home) im still quite young (38) any one know any good companys to get a quote with?

how much to add a teenager to car insurance

how much to add a teenager to car insurance

How much would car insurance cost for a 17 year old girl?

Right, I'm 17. I getting my provisional licence in the next week or so, so I can start my driving lessons. When and if I pass my theory and practical, I would like to get my own car. I have a rough idea of which car I would like to get, but have no idea what I can do to get a rough idea on insurance. I've tried looking at a few websites and they're all useless haha. I'd love to have a Peugeot 106. Not the best car I know, but it would be suitable for me. I live in an area with off road parking, so this could possibly bring the insurance down a little. If someone can give a rough quote themselves, it'd be much appreciated and I can begin to plan ahead.""

Can I use my mums Tesco Clubcard to get cheaper car insurance?

I'm looking to buy my first car and naturally insurance is expensive. It is usually just out of my price range but I discovered yesterday that if I use my mums clubcard to get a discount on Tesco's website it brings it down to an affordable level for me. However I was just wondering if I can use my mums clubcard to lower my insurance or is this not allowed?? I can't find anything that definitavely answers my question on Tesco's website.

Insurance for a motorcycle in Toronto.?

I am an 18 year old Torontonian planning to get a new kawasaki ninja 250R. It would be a great help if someone can give me an idea of about how much it would cost me for the insurance coverage the ninja 250r. (Both basic as well as other plans.) I don't have a license yet which i am planning to get once i figure out everything.( the cost, insurance procedure etc etc.) Here in toronto, we don't have the luxury to ride two wheelers year round because we have so called the FRIGID TEMPERATURE during the winter. Do i still have to pay insurance during the winter regardless the fact dat i won't be able to ride my ninja during the winter?""

Car insurance in New Zealand?

Im thinking of moving to New Zealand. I would want a car at some point and don't know how much car insurence would cost. Im 19 been driving for a year and a half. No accidents, convictions etc?""

Using a po box in license for cheap car insurance?

I live in the bronx but car insurance for me is like 660 a month... that's impossible to make... I wanted to go with Statefarm... I was using a po box in Yonkers, tuckahoe 20 mins away and it dropped to 220 a month with more then just liability coverage ... the po box isn't on the street it's a ups street address.. the guy told me people do it all the time but I just wanted to be sure.. does Statefarm ask for proof of address.... like bill of con Ed which Im only 17 btw.... I work so I was going to change my address on my check I receive to the Yonkers address and my debit card address also.. and ofcourse I was going to make that my address in my license.... I know brokers will give you insurance with any addres but will it be good the 6 months or will they contact me a month or so with asking for info abt my addres... will it work is the question if it's in on my license and I say that's where I live.. I'm 17 so I don't have credit... also has anyone ever done this?? no stupid answers""

Can I have two health insurances?

I am pregnant, and my work covers me but i already have insurance. But only for myself my not baby so I was curious how it all works? I will be getting kicked off my current insurance soon so would my work insurance just take the place of it when that happens? thanks for any help :)""

Cheap auto insurance for new driver?

I was just wondering of anyone knows of an insurance company that will insure new drivers for a low cost. I know it's hard to find because it always costs more to insure younger drivers due to the likely hood of them getting into an accident. I don't have my license yet, but will have it estimated by June of 2013, by then I'll be 17. I'm going to get my permit sometime in January so I would need the insurance by then.""

What is the best site for finding family health insurance?

What is the best site for finding family health insurance?

Cheap car insurance is all I need.?

Cheap car insurance is all I need.?

How much would it cost me to get motor bike insurance?

I am thinking of getting a motor bike since the cost of insuring a car is just too high. I'm 18 and male and was wondering roughly how much I could expect to pay for insurance on a 125cc if I do my CBT. Oh and I live in the Uk... which will hike the price up a bit

Car acccident insurance issue?

I had a faulty accident. I gave my license plate number and registration number to the other party but I forgot to give them my insurance information ? what will happen now?

How much does gender affect car insurance price?

I'm writing an essay on seemingly biased car insurance charges. Does anyone have any facts or statistics involving car insurance? Thanks!

Hastings direct car insurance.?

We are thinking of taking car insurance through Hastings direct. Are they reliable? Until now we've been with Norwich Union, but they are very expensive now, so we want to switch. Any others people really recommend, reliable and cheap?""

How many people work in the health insurance industry?

* I need statistics & numbers doing a paper on health insurance

I need cheap auto insurance.?

I've had 4 car accidents in the last 2-3 years. 2 were not my fault - 2 were only 1 of those had bodily injury. I need to have full coverage because I am financing my car. Any suggestions? I was paying 160 a month I now have a 2008 Nissan Sentra.

My mother added her car to my insurance policy without telling me?

i jus got a letter in the mail informing me of changes made to my insurance on my car, changes i didnt make and apparently my mother did, without telling me. what should i say to her?""

Car Insurance Question?

I came to north Carolina at the beginning of August from FL to stay with my aunt while I got my finances in order and she recovered from her back surgery. I plan to stay here until a bit after the new year. When I moved, I arranged to have my mail forwarded while i am here. Also around this time, I started searching for a new insurance provider because my rate had gone up with geico. I decided on progressive. When signing up for progressive, I signed up with my Florida drivers license number and my new nc mailing address. A couple of months later I received a letter from the state of Florida saying that they were notified my geico insurance policy was cancelled and to provide new proof of coverage. I went online and provided the information but apparently made an error when selecting the insurance company name. I accidentally selected protective insurance company instead of progressive. I was made aware of this error when I received a license suspension letter yesterday. Since then I have notified the state of Florida Of the error. I then received notice that my insurance was still not acceptable because Florida requires that if I have a florida registration, i must have a Florida policy. I called my insurance who confirmed that although they provide Florida coverage, I was under a nc policy even though I provided them with a Florida drivers license number since my mailing address was currently nc. I have had no lapse in coverage, but my insurance company cannot switch it back to florida until I am living there again at the beginning of the new year and can provide a valid address of where I will be living. I do not know where I will be living when I get back yet because I will have to find a new place to move into. Does anyone have any advice as to what to do in this situation? When I first moved to FL and transferred my tags, it cost me almost 500 dollars, so if i transfer them to NC for the time being, i will then have to pay 500 dollars again once I go back to FL""

Health insurance after you've turned 18?

My mother receives Social Security checks and insurance (She had cancer, and can't work due to other conditions brought on by the chemotherapy) and because of this, I had medicaid. I turned 18 last month and I'm wondering if I automatically get cut off from her insurance, or if I stay on the plan because I'll be a student in the fall. I know the system for this changed recently, so I have no idea if I still have insurance or not.""

How much will my car insurance go down when i turn 21?

How much will my car insurance go down when i turn 21?

Can I get car insurance myself if the car is owned by my dad?

My dad bought me a car so it is legally his. Can I get car insurance or does he have to do it?

How much would insurance cost on a 96 Chevrolet camaro?

Monthly? I spotted a camaro for the first time and it was completely gorgeous, I almost cried. it also runs good. The cost is pretty crazy for a camaro only 2,000. My mom said that I ...show more""

Is it up to age 26 or through age 26 for insurance coverage on parent's plan?

With health care reform, young adults can now stay on their parent's insurance longer. Is it UP TO the day they turn age 26 or through the age 26 that they are able to have the coverage?""

What would be the best insurance company to go with for me?

im 22 and im about to purchase a used car from a dealership. i havent went yet i plan to go tomarrow and take a look see. but now im going to have to start thinking about insurance. i know some of it depends on the type of car but i kind of just want an all around knowledge of which on would be the cheapest for my age bracket. or is there any good web sites for me to go to? oh and i dont want to go with safe auto. love.

Life Insurance?

Can you buy life insurance on anyone? I mean could you buy life insurance on everyone in the nursing homes, then collect the reward? Or quickly buy life insurance on hospitol patients?""

What factors to look for/consider when getting a home insurance?

What factors to look for/consider when getting a home insurance?

how much to add a teenager to car insurance

how much to add a teenager to car insurance

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