#elwood's corner

[pvtjxker]

The Full Metal Jacket fandom is split in two

-fans of war violence guns blood (most of it)

-gays (it's ten (10) of us and I know them all)

[pvtjxker]

Private Joker, Full Metal Jacket

Thomas Magnum, Magnum PI

Agent Jack "Whiskey" Daniels, Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Egon Spengler, Ghostbusters

Elwood Blues, The Blues Brothers

Marty McFly, Back To The Future

Horacio Carillo, Narcos

Jojo, Mystic Pizza

Eddie Munson, Stranger Things

König, Call Of Duty MW2

I literally have no idea of who to tag lol

I'll tag @rosemarynightmares becaue she's the only one I have in mind that I could tag rn

Tagged by @1990sshawnmichaels

Rules: Name 10 of your favourite characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people to do the same.

Kevin Owens - WWE

Steven Grant - Moon Knight

Jimmy Valmer - South Park

Mike “Thatcher” Baker - Rainbow Six Siege

Guillermo de la Cruz - What We Do In The Shadows

Adrian Toomes - Spiderman

Alejandro Vargas - Call of Duty MW2

Dell Conagher - Team Fortress 2

Usagi Miyamoto - Usagi Yojimbo/TMNT

Donnie Darko - Donnie Darko

Tagging @mistress-omega-majesty @sadcowboy6969 @bull-moose-penguin @catboymansion @mountain-dew-tickledpink @thederpyllamaoflove @pvtjxker @lessthanwilliam @taydaq @let-me-dream-with-the-stars

[jocelynships]

Y’all I’m cooked

The Blues Brothers officially recognize me

Bc why did the Elwood come right up to me while they were dancing with the crowd all happy and asking how I was doing, then smiling all big at me when he saw me come up 🫣

[lilithpleasant]

[gyllenhaalstories]

BODIES IN THE SAND — ELWOOD DALTON 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and dalton wanted to make it special.

warnings: eating, mostly fluff & smut (making out, thigh riding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2730

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i am, for the fourth year in a row, making it everyone’s problem with a (very boring) self indulgent fic. 🎈 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The dock master waved at you when you passed by. You did not leave him enough time to repeat his speech about watching out for the damn crocs like a broken record. You had visited the Glass Key Marina so many times since meeting Dalton, one could think the old man would spare you the lecture. Whatever. This time, you ignored him. You stormed towards the wooden pier on a mission.

Dalton, now confident in Billy and Reef's abilities to handle the unruly patrons on their own (if they remembered to lift with their knees), allowed himself a night off from time to time. The pay as the bouncer of the roadhouse supported him plenty anyway. He did not splurge much, judging by the fishing box overflowing with stacks of cash. When he did spend his money, he would buy all the books Charlie recommended to him or he would treat you to his new favourite food, conch chowder.

You were usually the first person to know about his sporadic vacations, except for today. You drove to the roadhouse and Laura greeted you with a perplexed smile as to why you were there without Dalton. Frankie walked down the stairs from her office and expressed the same level of confusion. "Dalton called, said he's sick. I think the boat dreams are getting to him. Took him long enough." She explained before helping her employees to get the bar ready for another night. Dalton, sick? You stormed out of the bar with the same determination that made you beeline to The Boat.

"There you are." Dalton, who sat on the railing of the boat, stood up and turned around to greet you. The look on your face, painted with surprise, satisfied him, it was worth spending the entire afternoon decorating his corner of the marina. "Happy birthday."

You stood on a creaky wood plank and took in the scene. Orange balloons matched the colours of the sky as the early sunset reflected on the water. There were garlands and streamers, basically anything that could make the dock look festive. You scoffed at the Happy Thanksgiving banner attached to the back of the boat that clashed with the rest.

Dalton quickly justified. "I know... 'Was all Charlie could find." He worked on the ribbon of the balloon he had previously secured on the railing and held on it tight. He raised his leg to get off the boat, but you interrupted.

"I appreciate the thought. This looks so..." You spun on your heels and admired the decorations for a few more seconds. "This looks really nice. But that still won't get me to climb on that thing. It's literally sinking." You pointed at the rusty boat that the dock master constantly referred to as a frying pan. You wholeheartedly agreed with the older man.

"It's not sinking." He leaped from the boat to the dock. The tone of his voice failed to convince you. "... Yet." You both nodded in agreement. Not yet. Soon enough, Dalton would be taking a nap with the crocodile.

You let him come to you.

He tilted his head, eyes squinting at you. "You know, those little footsteps of yours sounded furious. Everything okay?" He clenched his jaw, already bracing up for bad news. It was all he seemed to attract: bad news.

"I should be asking you! Are you okay? I went to the bar and Frankie said you were sick."

"I don't get sick." He shook his head lightly.

"Then why did she tell me that?"

"Oh, I asked her to." He marked a pause, as if that was enough information. You pressed him to grant you with more details. "I thought it was a good excuse." There was a hint of pride in his grin.

"A good excuse that worried me a lot." Your attempt at reprimanding him failed miserably, especially when his grin widened while he stepped closer to you.

Dalton carefully tied the ribbon of the balloon around your right wrist. He then flicked the balloon, watching it bop. "Charlie and I have been planning this for a little while. Couldn't find a proper banner in time." His chin pointed at the Thanksgiving wishes.

"You can say something cheesy to make up for it." You suggested with a chuckle.

"I'm thankful that you're born?" Although he said it like a question, he was certain in the sincerity behind his words.

"That does the job." You both exchanged a moment of laughter. "Thank you for taking the time to decorate for my birthday."

"There's more." He guided you off the dock and through the makeshift path to the beach, always hovering a hand over your lower back to make sure he would be quick to react if you fell.

You let Dalton walk by the shore. Although you did not mind feeling the water run over your feet and ankles, he had insisted enough times that it was safer for you to stay on the other side. So you just let him do what he wanted. Your hand brushed over his a few times and you caught sight of the smirk on his lips.

He also noticed your head was turned towards the water so he pulled you to stand in front of him. He lost no time to hold your hand when you reached behind to grab his. Dalton mouthed a quiet wow when he took in just how beautiful you looked with the pink sunset sky.

Things were simple with Dalton. He did not talk much about what lead him to Glass Key, but you learned enough snippets of his life to know he wanted things to remain this way: simple. He liked the way you weaved yourself through the routine he built since working at the roadhouse. You'd visit before work, at work, after... You would hang out at the bookstore with Charlie, you would sit by the bar with Laura. It all felt simple. He did not hide his appreciation for the time you shared. He showed honesty in his intentions with you when a kiss turned into a lot more one too many times. Plenty of whispered praises, plenty of love filled gazes. You took it one day at a time with Dalton. And today was a special day in more ways than one.

Dalton bumped against you when you stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the makeshift picnic set up. Beach towels laid on the sand and held in place by a bunch of rocks and a pretty conch shell. It looked a little funky but he knew you could not care less. "After my first shift at the bar, Frankie told me this whole sales pitch about the place." He let go of your hand so you could wander towards the beach towels. "She said this was a beautiful spot to have a drink with someone special." Frankie was talking about the roadhouse, not the beach at the back of the marina but... It was close enough.

"She must be right." You sat down on the towel, Dalton joined you. He attempted to say something else, but the balloon floating in the evening breeze distracted him. You watched him intently as he untied the ribbon from your wrist and attached it to the handle of the cooler.

You exchanged a smile and enjoyed more of the sunset. You wondered to yourself how people could live in a beautiful place such as this and forget to pay attention. How could someone get used to a view like this? You certainly could never. You knew Dalton felt the same.

And Dalton knew what you were thinking about. He had travelled quite a bit, both for work and to escape it. He faced the same reflection time after time. "I don't know." He broke the silence, answering your unspoken question. "Maybe they don't have the right person by their side to remind them to appreciate the moment."

"I like the sound of that." You shifted closer to him and his hand slid along your lower back to find its place on your hip. "It's romantic."

"Wait 'til you hear about what I baked for your birthday..." He let out a small grunt when he stretched his arm towards the cooler to pull it closer.

"You can bake?"

"Nope." He opened the cooler and tilted in your direction. "But Charlie can." Kind of. He let you take a peak inside to admire the cupcakes that he prepared with the teenager and with Stephen on supervision duty.

You found it so endearing how he formed a bond with Charlie. Dalton even grew to like her comparisons to western novels and cowboy boots wearing broody heroes. You leaned in to admire the desserts and chuckled at the sight. "They're all squished."

"Shit." Dalton whispered at the sight of the dozen of misshapen cupcakes. He pulled out the tray and set it on the beach towel. He selected one that sort of held its shape during the transport from Charlie and Stephen's house to the beach. "I swear, I frosted them all nice for you." He grinned apologetically.

You grabbed the cupcake from his hand and took a bite. You swallowed thickly and tried to contain a funny face. "These are..."

"Burnt as hell." He stole a bite from the same cupcake and grimaced. He looked down at the rest of the desserts and began to explain that he was sorry, that he really tried to make your birthday special.

You interrupted him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "There was frosting." It was not entirely false, but you hoped this would stop the train of thoughts.

He still looked unsure, he worried that he had messed up.

So you kissed him again, on the same spot. You would usually let him lead and make the the first move so he would not feel trapped, but you wanted to reassure him. "Spending time with you is a nice gift on its own. So this?" You gestured around you. "This is great. And this." You held his head in your hands for a few moments, waiting for his lips to curl into a smile. "It's all I need to have a good time."

The smile stayed glued on his face even when you pulled away. You reached for the cupcake again and Dalton took it from your hand to put it back on the tray, slamming the cooler shut for good.

"You can't waste the cupcakes, you worked so hard to bake them for me." You would have eaten a couple of the sweets had he not stopped you, you wanted Dalton to know you liked the gesture.

"Then the crocodile can have them." You nodded, agreeing with his idea.

"Maybe he'll spare you for another night."

The sound of yours and Dalton's laughter blended together as one. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He replied.

"I know I just said I'm having a good time, but..." You crawled to kneel between his legs. You sat back, keeping a safe distance to let Dalton decide. "We can make it even better."

He considered the implications of your offer. Now, he felt like he was the one being celebrated. You were a real treat, kneeling before him with a gaze he had seen many times before. You wanted more... You wanted him. Dalton leaned in, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

You let him come closer until your mouths met in a gentle kiss, mirroring what you did moments ago.

His nose brushed against yours while he left you longing for another kiss. The small nod of his head told you everything you needed to know.

You erased the distance completely and kissed him again with your head tilted to the side.

Dalton's fingertips caressed along your arms and guided you to wrap them around his neck. He deepened the kiss when he felt one of your hands cradling the back of his head.

You hummed when his hands began to explore your body. The gentle touching up and down your back grew in eagerness.

Dalton's hands gripped firmly on your hips, pulling you closer. He placed a hand under your thigh and positioned you how he wanted. He took it slow, one step at a time. His hand travelled back up to the curve of your ass that he squeezed a little bit harsher than you expected.

The whimper you let out only encouraged him to keep going while his feverish touches fuelled you to take this further. Your tongue traced his lips before he parted his mouth open.

Your tongues danced together while he let go of you briefly to unbutton his shirt. Immediately after, your hands were all over him. Your fingertips followed the shape of his collarbone down to the curve of his pecs to end on the valley between his abs. You printed each and every detail of Dalton in your mind.

Your loving touch spread goosebumps on his skin, or perhaps it was the breeze getting cooler. The sunset reached its last instants, the sun appeared to be swallowed by the ocean far beyond the horizon. The marina was peaceful, but not quiet. Soft whimpers and grunts filled the silence as the waves slowly hit the sand.

You paused to catch your breath, Dalton could not take his eyes off your kiss swollen lips. "Wanna make you feel good." He whispered against your lips before leaning in again to let his tongue invade your mouth. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing the flesh and making your body move back and forth.

You ached from the lack of direct contact with him, you needed to feel him. But, again, you wanted to respect how far he seemed willing to go.

So he put his words into actions. Dalton made you straddle his thigh, trying to adjust the best he could to make sure you were comfortable. With his hands on your ass again, he began to make you grind on him. At first the movements were tentative, he let you adjust to the friction between your core and the clothes. But when you moaned at his ear, he could no longer hold back.

You rocked your hips back and forth, succumbing to the ever-growing hunger for more. More of this heated intimacy, more of Dalton's warm skin on yours... More.

Every time a door opened, Dalton closed it by repeating that you were a nice person, that you did not want to know him in that way, that you did not want to get close to him.

Yet, you waited. You showed him you had all the patience in the world for him. You showed that you were not out to get him, that you simply wanted to make Dalton feel good too.

You succeeded. The more you waited and reassured him that you would respect his boundaries, the more Dalton wanted to explore what lied beyond those limits.

"I don't want to stop." You murmured at his ear, trailing kisses from his ear and along his jaw until your lips connected again.

"I don't wanna stop either." His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you to slow down. "But since you refuse to get on the boat with me..."

You remained categorical, he would never convince you to step foot in that death trap. "We can go back to my place."

"Oh yeah?" Dalton kept you immobile, pressed down on his thigh. Your whine of complaint sounded like music to his ears. "You think you can wait that long?" It was quite the drive between the beach and your home. If either of you had the genuine intention to leave, you would have done in a while ago. "I'm not too sure about that."

You scoffed at his assumption. "Can you wait?"

Dalton answered your question by capturing your lips with his in a rough kiss. He slowly, carefully, helped you to lay on your back. He guided your legs apart to make space, his gaze meeting yours while his hands caressed your thighs. He let the tension build, he needed you to give him one more sign that you wanted this just as much as he did. When your hips bucked forward, your body pressing more against his, he grinned. "I've waited long enough."

[itsgreti]

THE NEW BOUNCER

pairing. elwood dalton x f!reader

summary. a new motorcycle gang is causing trouble, but the new bouncer solves the problem within a minute.

warning. cursing, mentions of physical injuries

word count. 1,2k

a/n: hey guys! it's literally my first ff ever, i just wanted to try out how hard is writing in another language, and i can tell you that i was struggling a bit haha. english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me! (divider is made by rookthornesartistry)

Working in the Road House was eventful. During the daytime, it was peaceful, but as night approached, the bar was no stranger to chaos. Lately, the trouble was caused by a motorcycle club, and its leader, Dell. He was the main source of broken tables and fights. Every night, he would swagger in, eyes glinting with wickedness. Tonight, however, things were going to be different.

(Y/N) had been working as a waitress at the Road House for a few years now. She had quickly become a favourite among the customers for her sense of humour and warm smile. But Dell's recent attention was anything but welcome. He would glance at her from across the bar, making nasty comments that sent shivers down her spine. She had tried to ignore him as much as possible, even helping Billy kick their ass out of the bar, but it had only led to swollen, bruised eyes of Billy and rude words to (Y/N).

Frankie’s only option to eliminate Dell and his gang was to find a new bouncer, and Elwood Dalton was the perfect candidate. He was known for his calm manner and challenging fighting skills. Initially hesitant, Dalton accepted the offer, as he had no other choice.

The other day, Dalton arrived to Glass Key, and as he walked through the door of the bar, (Y/N) couldn't help but stare at him from behind the counter. Tall, muscular, he was different from the usual arrivals, and he was an unfamiliar face compared to the regulars. He took in the scene with a keen eye, assessing the surroundings before making his way deeper into the bar. He met (Y/N)’s eyes.

"Hey there, what can I get you?" (Y/N) asked, her voice steady and friendly. It was rare for new faces to arrive with luggage in their hand.

"A black coffee, please." Dalton replied, his tone polite but firm.

"Um, we don’t have that. But you can try our Cuban coffee. It’s different, but it works the same." (Y/N) replied with a smile. Dalton agreed and waited her to prepare it. While he was waiting, he took in the ambiance. As she handed him the coffee, their eyes met, and she felt a strange sense of reassurance. There was something about him that made her feel safer already.

"You're new here," she said, more as a statement than a question.

Dalton nodded. "Just started today. Name's Dalton."

"(Y/N)," she replied with a smile. "Welcome to the Road House."

"Thanks, ma’am. Do you know where can I find Frankie?" he asked with a small smile at the corner of his lips.

She quickly pointed at a small room. "Yes, up there." Dalton acknowledged her, poured down the coffee, and made his way up to his new boss.

As the day went on and the light of the moon reflected into the bar, the place filled with people. The air buzzed with music and laughter. (Y/N) didn’t stop working for a moment as more and more customers ordered drinks. There were small fights, but Billy and Reef quickly wrapped them up. Dalton sat at the side of the counter and admired (Y/N)'s endurance and resilience as she also tried to put the too-drunk people in place.  

"The bar is always that packed?" Dalton asked (Y/N), who was mixing a cocktail with a customer.

"Yeah… " (Y/N) replied and handed over the drink to a girl. "But it’s normal, until-" Before she could finish her sentence, the mood shifted the moment Dell and his ass gang walked in. (Y/N)'s heart sank; she had been hoping for a quiet night and Billy had enough black eye for today.

"Wow, it’s like a morgue in here," Dell shouted and flipped the table in front of him for no reason. He scanned the room, his gaze immediately locking onto (Y/N). Dalton, watching from the aisle, tensed.

Dell made his way through the crowd, knocking over a couple of chairs in his path. He reached the billiard table to play some rounds as he had the past days, but he again terrified the other regulars. Billy came over to him and told him to get out, but Dell just laughed and pushed him back.

"Oh, Billy. You’re that stupid?" Dell laughed with his company next to him. "You didn’t learn, did you?" (Y/N) watched it behind the counter and decided to end it finally. She loved Billy as if he was her brother and couldn’t watch it anymore as the biker beat him up by and made everyone's life miserable. Dalton followed her every movement and decided to stand up if anything happens.

"Hey! Get the fuck out, now!" (Y/N) said with anger in her voice and stand in front of Billy.

"Ay, sweetheart. You’re here to protect your little guy?" Dell snorted and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. "How about you and I get out of here and maybe I won’t give him another black eye?" he slurred, his grip tightening.

(Y/N) tried to pull away, her voice steady despite her fear. "Let go of me."

Dell laughed, a cruel sound that sent a wave of anger through Dalton. Before (Y/N) could say anything more, Dalton was there, his presence a wall of protection between her and Dell.

"She asked you to let go." Dalton said, his voice calm but firm.

"Who the hell are you?" Dell sneered.

"Dalton," he replied calmly. "And you're done causing trouble here."

Dell scoffed, but he released (Y/N). "What are you gonna do about it, Dalton?"

Dalton didn't respond. Instead, he moved with a speed that caught Dell off guard. In a matter of seconds, Dell was on the ground, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach where Dalton had landed a perfectly aimed punch.

The bar fell silent; every eye now was on Dalton. He looked around, making sure his message was clear. There was something about him that commanded respect. "This bar is under new management. Anyone who wants to cause trouble will have to answer to me."

Dell scrambled to his feet, fury in his eyes. He charged at Dalton, but Dalton sidestepped, using Dell's momentum against him. Dell crashed into a table, breaking it under his weight. The crowd burst into cheers, and a couple of regulars moved to help Dalton drag Dell's friends out of the bar.

Once Dell and the others were outside, Dalton turned back to (Y/N). She was shaken but unharmed, her eyes filled with gratitude.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a little shaky. "He’s been a problem for a while, but it was the first time he…" she tried to continue but felt a hand on her shoulders.

Dalton gave her a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. If he comes back, he'll regret it."

(Y/N) nodded, relief washing over her. As the bar slowly returned to its usual noise and chaos, she felt a newfound sense of safety. (Y/N) handed him another beer, on the house this time. With Dalton around, she knew she could handle whatever came her way.

And as for Dalton, he couldn't help but feel a deepening admiration for (Y/N). She was strong and brave, and he was determined to make sure she never had to face trouble alone again.

[rebeccaotool]

*Sitting in my corner, waiting for The Blues Brothers/Blues Brothers 2000 to get rediscovered*

The series has:

Neurodivergent representation (Dan Akroyd is Autistic IRL, and arguably his character Elwood Blues).

Platforming minority artists, many of whom had fallen out of the limelight during the time of the first film.

Explicit condemnation of Nazis, white supremacy, and cops.

Musical numbers across a variety of generas, often by some of the best artists in the business.

Multiple car chases.

Support for found families.

A little light on female representation, but when there are women they typically kick ass. Including but not limited to Carrie Fisher, Nia Peeples, and Aretha Franklin.

Now, are either of these movies perfect? No. There are a few oofs. Fewer than you'd expect, though. And they're definitely overdue to be rediscovered.

Then we can all chuckle at the conservatives tearing their hair out about the films being 'woke' to boot.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing, fighting, yelling

I shook my head as I took in the car in the driveway. All day, I’d been considering taking a baseball bat to it. But it wouldn’t do any good. There wasn’t enough money left in the bank to fix the damage I would do. Unlocking the door, I rolled my eyes at the hat sitting on the table next to the keys to the car. The black jacket on the wall further annoyed me.

“hey!” Elwood called, walking into the living room. He was wiping his hands on a rag. “How was work?” His smiled fell when he saw my face. “Shit day huh?”

“oh I don’t know Elwood.” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “You tell me. Given how you blew off your job to spend our entire life’s savings.” He gulped and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“oh. You heard about that?” He asked, eyes starting to drift down to his feet. I put my hands on my hips.

“yeah. I heard about that.” I shot back. Elwood rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me. “You didn’t think the bank would call? When you took everything out of our account?”

“It wasn’t everything.” Elwood muttered.

“ok no.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “It wasn’t everything. But it was most of our lives savings Elwood. We were supposed to have that for when we retired. Wanted to go on vacation. Do things together. Things we decided on together. How could you?” Elwood shifted his weight and chewed on his lip.

“it needed it.” Elwood whispered. He moved to head back into the kitchen but I followed him.

“the bluesmobile needed it?” I cried. “What was so wrong with it before that it needed the money?”

“I have to add modifications to it.” Elwood said. “Make it safer.”

“Elwood…” I breathed out, trying to calm the rage that was burning inside me. “It’s an old cop car. It’s the safest car out there. What the ever loving fuck could you do to it to make it safer?” Elwood put his hands on the counter and leaned his weight against it.

“a few things actually.” He said. His voice was oddly even and flat. “Better seat belts. Fix the suspension. The shocks.”

“I don’t give a shit Elwood!” I cried. “What I give an shit about is that you took our hard earned money and blew it on a goddamn car!”

“it wasn’t just the fucking car!” Elwood exploded, turning to look at me. “I almost got into an accident the other day! Because of Jake. And Matt almost went through the window!” I nodded. Elwood had come home pretty shaken up after it had happened. I’d pried him from the front seat and made him come into the house. “It coulda been you. And that fucking terrifies me. Add in the fact Jake’s gonna have a kid…” Elwood shook his head as his anger started to subside. “I had to. Ok? For you. For me. For Jake. For this fucking kid. I just had to.” I stood there in shock.

“Jake’s gonna be a dad?” I asked, all the anger leaving me. “You’re gonna be an uncle?” Elwood nodded.

“he found out this morning.” Elwood said. “Carrie or Carla or whatever her name is. The on again off again one.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t even know if it’s his and he’s going fucking nuts. Talking about changing things up and settling down and raising this kid.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Elwood…” I reached out for him and Elwood shot over, wrapping his arms around me tightly and burying his face in my neck. “I’m not happy about it. But I understand.” I buried my fingers in his hair and kissed his cheek. I started to giggle and Elwood pinched my side.

“What?” He said. It turned into a full blown laugh as Elwood smiled against my neck.

“You’re just as bad as Jake.” I said. Elwood pulled back with a frown. “You babyproofed the bluesmobile.” He tried not to smile but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Elwood ran a hand through his hair and turned away from me.

“shut up.” He chuckled.

“it’s cute!” I shot back. Elwood shook his head and blushed. “Really it is. Shows how protective you are.”

“it’s just…I’m concerned you know?” He said. “First that happens and then Jake finds out he’s gonna be a dad and I just…panicked.” I cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

“I really am still pissed about you not saying anything to me about taking all our money to do this.” Elwood nodded and wrapped his hands around my wrists. “But it’s understandable. Especially after everything that’s happened.”

“I am sorry I didn’t mention it to you. I should have. But I know you get busy and stressed and I didn’t want to make it worse.” Elwood said, leaning in and kissing me softly.

“Elwood, you calling me and telling me this would have been so much less stressful than the fucking bank calling me.” I said. Elwood chuckled and nodded.

“understood.” He said. I smiled at him as I rubbed my thumb over his cheek.

“now.” I said, moving my hand to pat his chest. “Show me these modifications.” Elwood lit up and took my hand, pulling me outside to show me what he had done to the car.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Chapter 5: You Will Always Have My Heart

Eugene Roe x Violet Elwood

Summary: Eugene didn’t know that love could hurt so much, until he met Violet and then all he could think about was her. As Violet’s condition worsens, Eugene grows to realise just how fragile love is. Warnings: mentions of hospitals, critically ill oc, heart break, grief, death

November 20th 1941

Eugene tapped his foot against the cool, tiled floor of the hospital waiting room, knocking along to Artie Shaw on the radio on the nurses station. Violet was in for a check up with the Cardiologist but she’d been gone a little while now and the longer she was away the more anxious Eugene became.

A few minutes later, Violet pushed open the large double doors and made her way down the corridor to greet him, pulling him in for a hug.

“What happened? What did the doctor say? What’s the…?”

“Eugene calm down,” Violet laughed, pulling back from his arms and cupping his cheek, “Everything’s fine, well as fine as things can be. I’m fine, Gene.” She reassured him, pressing her lips to his. He melted into the kiss, the thoughts rushing through his mind slowed as her lips moved on his own.

“But what…” kiss “did the…” kiss “Vi…” kiss. Eugene gave up trying to speak and instead kissed Violet back firmly, his hand coming to rest on her lower back.

“You talk too much, Gene,” she grinned, smoothing her fingers through his dark locks, playfully pulling at the strands and causing him to sigh at the contact.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Vi,” he mumbled, burying his head into her neck and holding her close.

“I’m afraid that I’ll be the one dying first, Gene,” she smiled sadly, holding him close to her.

The hustle and bustle of the hospital faded around them and nothing else mattered in that moment. All Eugene could concentrate on was the woman in his arms, the woman he loved so dearly.

Violet felt a small tear trailing down her cheek as Eugene held her. She hated lying to him but she knew how upset he’d be if she told him the truth. At least this way they could still enjoy their time together without having the time limit the doctor expected hanging over them. Violet tried to push the doctor's words from her mind as Eugene led her from the hospital and towards the bus stop. She hated being so reliant on other people but as simple daily tasks grew ever harder and even breathing was an effort she knew she didn’t have much choice. As they took their seat on the bus, the exertion of the morning caught up with her and she slipped into a dreamless sleep in Eugene’s arms.

December 8th 1941

Violet was sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed, the early morning light creeping through the blinds, illuminating her pale features. She looked tired, with dark, purple circles painted underneath her bright, blue eyes, her cheeks hollowed and her cheekbones protruding more than they used to. But she was still his beautiful girl, Eugene thought to himself as he pushed her blonde locks from her forehead.

The radio was buzzing dramatically in the corner and Eugene stood to move closer, turning up the volume as the president, Franklin D Roosevelt’s voice filled the room.

‘Yesterday, December 7, 1941 a date which will live in infamy the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.’

Eugene froze beside the radio, listening to the president addressing Congress. The speech continued and he took a seat beside the radio, turning up the volume and listening as the president's words resonated with him.

‘The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost.’

His words flowed out of the radio, sickening everyone in the hospital, no one walked past the door.

‘I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire’

Eugene took in a sharp breath, the US had declared war on Japan. They were going to war. What would that mean for him? For Violet? Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Violet stirred under the covers.

“Gene?” She mumbled sleepily and he was by her side in an instant, smoothing his hand over her cheek.

“I’m here, Sweetheart. I’m here. How are you feeling?” He crouched beside her bed, resting his head on their clasped hands.

“My… chest hurts,” she mumbled, her eyes sliding shut before she opened them again. She had a procedure the other day and it had taken its toll on her, she was weaker now. Every day seemed like a struggle and he heard one of the nurses mention it was unlikely that she’d be going home again.

“I know, Sweetheart,” Eugene moved so he could lay on the bed beside her and she snuggled against his chest. He could feel her heart beating slowly beside him, lub dub, lub dub.

“What was on the radio?” Violet asked, glancing up at Gene.

He smiled sadly at her, unsure of how to break the news to her, “You know Pearl Harbour was attacked?”

She nodded slowly. “Well the US has declared war on Japan.”

Violet pushed herself up carefully so she could face him properly, “Does that… does that mean you’ll have to go? Go to war?”

Eugene shook his head, “I don’t know yet, but I promise I’m not leaving you unless I have to. You hear me?”

Violet smiled, reaching up but Eugene craned his neck so she could reach his lips easily, planting a small kiss before laying back down.

Violet soon slipped back into her slumber but Eugene couldn’t rest, his mind drifting to the President’s words. What would that mean for his future?

December 11th 1941

“Good mornin’, Sweetheart,” Eugene greeted her, a bunch of flowers in his hand as he moved around the bed, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

“Good mornin’, Gene, she smiled weakly, reaching out her hand to hold his. He squeezed it gently, pulling up a chair to sit beside her bed. “How are you feelin’ today?”

“She shrugged her shoulders, “Same as yesterday, Gene.”

Eugene nodded slowly, she’d been having a bad week, lots of chest pains, lots of episodes of breathlessness. She was now on oxygen full time and had a nurse coming in every half an hour to monitor her vitals.

Eugene knew that things weren’t going to get better than this, they could only get worse. One of the nurses warned him that she may eventually slip into a coma if she became too weak. It broke his heart to see her suffering so much. She barely ate, most of her nutrition was given via liquid food, and she could barely move. Eugene had taken her for a walk around the hospital grounds in a wheelchair the other day and it was nice to see her smile again.

“How’s your family?” Violet asked, raining her head from the pillow to glance at him, her blue eyes shining brighter than ever but the rest of her seemed to be fading faster by the day.

“They’re okay. They said they’ll be poppin’ by later to see you. Wanted to check on you,” Eugene reassured her. He picked up her hairbrush from the bedside cabinet, smoothing it carefully through her blonde locks. She’d always taken such care of her hair, always neatly curled and pinned, but now it lay flat against her head, lifeless.

“Thank you, Gene. For everything.”

“Of course. I love you, of course I’m gonna look after you,” he pressed his lips against her forehead and she sighed sleepily. “Do you want me to go so you can get some rest?”

“No, no please stay,” Violet shuffled cautiously across the bed to make room for Eugene, “Will you hold me for a while.”

Eugene smiled widely at her, “Of course, Sweetheart.” He slid in easily beside her, wrapping his body around her tiny, weak frame.

December 14th 1941

“I’m afraid it’s not good news, Eugene,” Violet's father explained.

The family were sitting in the waiting room, her mother and sister crying quietly in the corner. Her father had tears in his eyes but he was fighting them, trying to remain strong for his family's sake.

“The doctors don’t think she has long. I’m so sorry, son.” Violet’s father placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before moving back to be with his family.

Eugene was frozen to the spot, the noise of the hospital fading around him into a blur of white noise. The flowers he’d been clutching fell limp to the floor, their petals splaying across the tiles. His mouth was dry, air barely reaching his lungs before it escaped in a sharp breath. He felt his knees buckle, hitting the ground hard, but he didn’t notice the pain. He didn’t feel anything, not anymore.

December 16th 1941

Violet’s breaths were short and shallow, her eyes closed as she rested peacefully against Eugene’s shoulder. Her family all sat around her, their eyes rimmed red and puffy. They had all cried enough over the last few days that Eugene thought he’d never cry again. How could he ever cry over anything else when the worst possible thing had already happened?

“Gene,” Violet mumbled weakly, causing Eugene to jump slightly.

“Yes, Vi.”

“I don’t want to die here, not in this hospital,” she glanced up at him, her hand cupping his cheek. “I want to go back to the lake, it’s our place. I want to go back to the lake, Gene.”

Eugene looked down at her sadly, “We can’t go the lake, Sweetheart. You’re not well enough.”

“Gene, I’m never going to get any better than this. The worst thing that could happen is that I’d die and I’m dying anyway,” she retorted, she understood his anxiousness but at the same time she needed to do this, it was her last chance.

Eugene glanced up at Violet’s family, trying to gauge their reaction. Eugene’s father stood up, giving Eugene a curt nod.

“I’ll bring the car around.”

The drive to the lake was a short one. By the time Eugene had carried Violet out to the car and her mother had carried out her oxygen bottle, her father had brought the car around.

They all bundled in, no one moaning about the tight squeeze or the stuffy air. Violet was sitting on his lap, clinging tightly to the front of his shirt.

“Thank you, Gene, she mumbled, pressing her lips gently to his neck. Eugene had to fight back the tears as he looked down at her, trying to steady his breathing so she didn’t realise he was crying.

When the car pulled up as close to the lake as they could, Violet’s family hurried out of the car, helping carry the oxygen as Eugene carried Violet. They picked a quiet spot, the same spot where Eugene and Violet had their second date.

Violet’s mother lay down a blanket from the back of the car, laying it on the grass so they could sit down. Eugene sat down first so that Violet could sit between his legs, leaning against his chest.

Violet’s mother hovered behind them until her father ushered her away. “Give them some time, Love. She wants to be with Eugene.”

Eugene watched as they walked back to the car, he knew he was hurting but how much pain must they be in losing their eldest daughter?

The sun was hanging low in the sky, just like it had been on their second date. It cast a bright orange glow, like the sky was burning, a lit the flames. The lake itself glowed orange, reflecting the setting sun's rays. It felt as though the whole world was alight.

Eugene grasped Violet’s hands, wrapping them in his own and pulling them close to their chests. He could feel her heartbeat, weak but steady beneath his hands. He could feel her breaths, short and sharp.

“It’s so beautiful,” Violet whispered, her eyes shining brightly in the setting sun and it reminded Eugene of the old Violet before she was sick. The time when they had everything to live for.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled into her hair, burying his face and taking a long, deep breath. She didn’t smell like she used to, of roses and lavender. She smelled clinical, like the hospital. It was as if that place had drained the life from her instead of trying to save it. “You’re perfect.”

“But my heart’s not, that’s far from perfect. I’m sorry my heart wasn’t good enough” she mumbled, glancing up at Eugene, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be perfect for you, Eugene.

Eugene but back a sob, “No, no don’t you ever say that. You are perfect, Violet. God, you are so perfect. Your heart was all I could have ever asked for. I love you so much.” He pulled her in tighter so that she was sat in his lap, her head resting against the crook of his neck.

“I wish we could have had longer,” Violet cried, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed, her breath becoming short, small gasps escaping her. Eugene placed the oxygen mask over her mouth, rubbing her back comfortingly as she coughed.

“It’s okay, Vi. It’s alright. We had the time that God decided for us and it was the best time of my life. I love you so much, don’t ever forget that.”

Violet nodded slowly, unable to speak as she breathed as best she could through the oxygen mask. He placed his lips on her forehead, kissing her lightly as he closed his eyes and began to hum quietly. Violet's breathing became slower, shallower as he hummed and she relaxed into him.

Eugene smoothed his hand over her hair, watching as her blue eyes slid closed, small breaths leaving her lips. “It’s okay, Violet. It’s okay to let go, I’ve got you now.” He whispered into her ear, rocking her slowly, “I love you.”

Violet’s body relaxed in his arms, her breathing slowed until it became inaudible, and her heartbeat slowed beneath his hand.

“Thank you, Gene. Thank you for loving me,” she whispered, taking one last deep breath before she fell silent, slipping away from the world. Eugene watched as her body relaxed, her ragged breathing stilled and her heartbeat stopped under his hand. She looked so peaceful, her face no longer lined with worry, but her flesh smooth over her gaunt features. She was finally at peace.

Eugene’s tears flowed freely now, he didn’t want her to see him crying, didn’t want her last memory to be of him in a state, but now he could. He didn’t hold anything back, clutching her lifeless body as if she could anchor him to this world as he fell apart.

“Goodbye Violet,” he sobbed, “I love you.”

December 20th 1941

Eugene bundled some belongings into his kit bag, mainly a few spare pairs of clothes, some smart shoes, and a book for the train journey. His parents were going to drop him off at the station to start his journey to basic training. He’d never managed to tell Violet he’d enlisted on December 12th, it seemed so far away at the time.

His parents were waiting outside as he collected up his last few things, shoving the photo of his family into his book so it wouldn’t become damaged.

The scrapbook Violet gave him for his birthday sat on his bedside table, pride of place. He’d looked through the photos every night since she passed, reading over her words of encouragement. She knew him so well. Each phrase or paragraph made him smile, they got him through each day without her.

As he turned over the final page of the book he noticed a white piece of paper sticking out the edge of the book. He pulled it free, unfolding the paper and revealing a letter written in Violet’s hand. Eugene felt the scrapbook fall from his hands and onto his bed. His eyes trained on the letter.

To My Dearest Eugene,

By the time you read this letter, I will be gone. I wish we could have had more time together, but then all of the time in the world would still not have been enough.

To be loved by you was the greatest treasure of my life. You are a special man Eugene Roe. You filled my life with light and I don’t want you to hide that light from the world. I want you to show the world how wonderful you are Eugene and you have to promise me that you will love again. I know that there is someone else out there for you and I want you to find her. She will be so lucky to have you Gene.

Thank you for everything Eugene, thank you for making me feel special and for loving me despite knowing our ending. I wish you all the luck in the world, my love. I love you with all my heart.

Yours always

Violet

Eugene didn’t find the usual tears slipping down his face but instead, a wide smile spread across his lips. He folded the letter, placing it alongside the picture of himself and Violet, before doing up his kit bag and sliming it over his shoulder. He gave one last glance at his childhood bedroom, unsure of when he would next see it. He walked down the familiar stairs and along the corridor. He looked back at the house he had occupied for the last 20 years, filled with so many memories.

“Thank you, Violet.” He closed the door, following his way down the familiar path and towards the car. He’d soon be in another State on a very different path than he’d imagined but at least he knew that no matter what Violet would be watching over him.

Tags: @blueberry-ovaries @mads-weasley @coco-bean-1218 @she-wolf09231982 @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @allthingsimagines @bucky32557038ww2 @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @xxluckystrike @hogwartslegacypics @softguarnere

[shrewfern]

☆! hl oc / mc

Amelia Amy Elwood

name: amelia “amy” minette elwood gender: female ethnicity: french voice: think ado (the singer) when she talks but with a french accent school: beauxbatons (former), hogwarts (current) patronus/animagus: tawny cat pet: ancient ahh tawny cat named tali (amy’s had her since she was a little girl and she will DIE for this cat no cap) likes: stars, drugs,a defense against the dark arts class, animals

background: long descendant of isidora morganarch, amy was born and raised in france the majority of her life. when she was young, her parents passed away from a mysterious illness (the common cold) bc it’s the 1800s and medicine sucked ass, and so, she was punted into the foster system. she was insanely adhd, waaayyyy before adhd was even diagnosable, so everyone was kinda on her ass all the time about everything and she never really understood why. with years of weaving in and out of numerous families and constantly being thrown into the corner with a dunce hat, she came to the conclusion that it was all because of who she was, deeming herself as a bad person to put it lightly, and learned to cope with her feelings with drugs. during her fifth year, she was expelled from beauxbatons for beating up orphans i mean her fellow students and drug abuse, and was soon transferred over to hogwarts… character arc: at the beginning of the story, amy is (low-key high-key) a BITCH but as she beats up goblins and makes friends and stuff she slowly becomes a tad more sympathetic and learns to not be so reliant on drugs n stuff. all this doesn’t happen tho until her cat dies and she has a whole macbeth “out, out brief candle”  arc whomp whomp

wood: ash length: 12 inches core: dragon heartstring

other: the wand handle is an heirloom from her mother’s side

[courtingchaos]

Tease

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Eddie finally texts you but like, at what cost?

A/N: More fboy!Eddie, I guess I'm turning this into a series? I don't know. Here's Dangerous, essentially part 1.

Warnings: Sex, minor alcohol use, same douchebaggery from Reader and Eddie 18+ NSFW Minors gtfo please

He won’t tell you anything, just asks for your address. You debate for a while, milling around your apartment, digging through your sparse fridge. It’s been two weeks since Rick’s basement and you won’t lie to yourself, you’ve been waiting to hear from Eddie. You’d gotten his number from Steve so you could give him a stupid little nickname that would pop up when he eventually texted. Every day you’d look at your home screen and sift through a hundred tiktok’s from Lisa, looking for the little bat emoji you’d assigned him. Every day you wouldn’t be the first to text. 

Apparently 10 minutes is too long and he double texts you ‘address??’. You send it, asking again where you’re going. He just reminds you that you’ve got an hour. 

Glancing at the time you sigh, undoing the comfort you’d sunk into after work. He better make it worth it, these were dryer warm joggers. 

Its a nice night, a little warm still but since you have no idea what you’re doing or where you’re going, you pull your hair back into a long braid to save time. Finding an outfit had taken most of the hour but you’d remembered the baby pink dress you hadn’t worn yet. Another pair of ankle heels, nude and strappy, and all your gold. Expensive armor dainty and glittering along your ears and across your fingers, single thin rope laying on the high collar of the dress. 

‘Here’

Flicking open the blinds in your bedroom to look down at the parking lot, there’s a black challenger idling outside your building with a faint puff of smoke from the drivers window. 

‘My chariot awaits’

You take the steps slow while you shove your card and ID into your phone case, keys clutched against the screen. Your new set makes it hard to push the case back on the corner of the phone and you pause, struggling. The sound of a window rolling down and Eddie’s voice echos off the side of your building. 

“You good?” He sucks on one of those dumb little vapes and your sure his car smells like fake strawberries from it. 

“Oh I am now.” You smirk, looking at him from under your brows. A slow approach to his car and when you stop at his door you bend at the waist to look in at him. Yeah, fake strawberry. “Well don’t you look handsome.” You reach in and pull on a damp curl. He’s got a black button up on, sleeves rolled to his elbows and top three buttons undone. That thin chain just hidden under his collar. 

“Get in.”

“Hello to you too.” The curl bounces back against his face and you walk around the front of his car so he has to watch you look soft in your tight dress. 

The car is low but you slide in like you’ve done it a thousand times. You drop your keys in his cup holder and reach for your seatbelt, looking over at him. 

“You gonna tell me where we’re going?” Honestly you’re a little annoyed. You thought he was maybe being cute about it, would tell you once you got in the car but he just smiles quick at you and pulls out of your complex. “Seriously Eddie.”

“A bar.”

“Sure. Where.”

“Over in Elwood.”

“…that’s 45 minutes away.” He just frowns, not taking his eyes off the road. “I’m gonna get out at the next red light if you don’t tell me where you’re taking me.” You say that with some finality. 

You know that Eddie isn’t dangerous like some of the other guys. He’s a little mean sure, a little standoffish. Holds his own normally if anyone feels the need to test his limits but you aren’t worried about him doing anything violent or weird. You’re just pissed because you got out of your pajamas and painted on a new face for him to just shrug at you. The approaching light turns yellow and he guns it. You have to laugh. 

“I need to go pick something up and if I go by myself it’ll look strange.” Another hit off his vape. 

“Why me?”

“Why not?” He does look at you then, eyebrows raised and a grin that shows a glint of his teeth. 

Dick. 

“Did I draw the short straw?”

“You just know how to handle yourself better than the others.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t think you’d be hanging around Lisa and her bunch if you didn’t.”

“I work with Lisa, we bartend.” You cross your arms and turn to face him better. “I’m not sure what you’re implying Eddie.” 

“I asked around. You and her keep the girls outta trouble right?” 

“You asked around.” You avoid his question and he avoids you, doesn’t even react. 

“I know you’re not fucking Rick, I would’ve had a bad night otherwise.” He shoots you another look and his hand flexes on the steering wheel, rings glinting under the passing street lamps. 

“What are you getting at?”

“You seem to stay out of most trouble, you’re good at keeping the peace and if shit does go wrong you’re good at keeping it from going nuclear.” He’s ticking fingers down on his other hand while he lists off your qualifications. “Good to have around just in case.”

“So the phenomenal head doesn’t factor into that at all?”

He laughs from deep in his chest and you’re proud of yourself for getting that much. “You did some homework.”

“Well I try not to stick my dick in crazy.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m crazy.”

“No, you are dangerous though.” There’s that word again. He used it the other day and you played along but you’re not sure what he means really. If you’re dangerous then what is he? Eddie exists at the edges of parties and the corners of Rick’s business and has somehow stayed on a pedestal amongst everyone. You know from Steve, who is another fringe member of this whole organization, that Dealer Eddie and Everywhere Else Eddie are two separate people, diametrically opposed. If he can have secrets, why can’t you?

“What’s so dangerous about me, huh?” You lean over on the center console and prop your chin on your hand to stare at the side of his face. Your other hand lands across his thigh where you catch your nail on a rip in his jeans. Wedge your finger under the fabric and scratch at him just a little. He glances down at your hand. 

“You don’t know?”

“No.” A heavy drag up his thigh to his zipper. He’s not even half hard, you didn’t expect him to be, but a little participation would be nice. “I want you to tell me.” He clears his throat, the only indication he’s maybe paying attention. “C’mon Eddie, tell me what it is that makes me so scary.” 

He’s driving a little faster now, the gps on screen says 10 minute arrival time. More than enough time to wind him up and set him loose in a strange bar. He’s apparently shy all of a sudden because he isn’t talking again. Keeping his eyes directly on the road like a good driver so you pull yourself into his space, nails digging into the inside of this thigh where you use him for leverage. His hair is soft when you brush it back to tuck behind his ear. You run a nail lightly down from his ear to his collar, pulling it back intending on sinking your teeth into his neck when you see someone else has apparently had that idea. 

“Whose handiwork is this Vlad?” You whisper close. He just huffs and shrugs a little, trying to get you to let his shirt go. “Let me guess.” Lips brush the shell of his ear and you watch a cascade of goosebumps go down his skin under his shirt. 

Oh he is paying attention.

“Was it Dani? Maybe Kim, she’s got a big mouth.” You bite his earlobe and he sighs like he’s annoyed. “Someone I don’t know? How many girls do you drive around anyways?” 

“Do you care?”

Honestly? No, but this hickey is mocking you just by being there first. 

When you sink your teeth in it’s probably a little harder than needed. It makes Eddie jump, pulling the steering wheel and jerking the car. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He’s harsh but doesn’t pull out of your grip, doesn’t slap your hands away or shove you back over into your seat. In fact, you can feel his interest growing under your hand planted on his jeans. 

“Same thing wrong with you I think.” 

It’s only an exit and a few more turns until you get to your bar. You’re practically crawling into the driver seat with him by the time he parks. Chest pressed into his shoulder, holding his neck against your mouth where you’ve doubled the size of his stupid fuckin’ hickey. 

Eddie had played aloof with you the other night while making you work for it. Tonight you’d barely made a move past palming him through his jeans and he’s trying to unbutton his pants for you. 

“What are you doing?” You pull back from his neck to watch him fumble with his button. When you glance up at his face you have to bite your lip to hide your laugh. He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, like you’re the one not understanding this situation. You pull your hand off his dick to tap your nail on the time display. “I thought you had an appointment?” Pouting seems to make him mad. 

Good

“You gave me one hour to put myself back together and I’m not gonna let you be late for this little rendezvous.” You gesture outside his windshield at the cinder block bar in front of you. He looks like murder and you scrunch up your nose up at him. “Maybe if you can get me home before 2 I’ll treat you nice.” You fall back into your seat, rearranging your dress and grabbing your phone before stepping out of his car. You lean down to look at him expectantly. “We doing this or what?”

“This.” He points at you, mean smile on his face. “This is what I mean.”

“What, fondling you in the car? Come on, if that’s the worst thing you can think of…”

“You fucking tease people-“ You cut him off by slamming his door. He shoots out, rounding around the front of his car to get in your face, effectively pinning you against the door. 

“Don’t slam my fucking door.” 

“What are you gonna do about it?” You’ve got a little taste for a fight, maybe because you aren’t on your home turf. You don’t have to worry about other drunk assholes you know that might need you to intervene. Maybe you can be the asshole tonight. “Hmm?” You hook your fingers in his belt loops and pull yourself flush against him, can feel that he’s still hard even with all this frustration. His expression softens just a tad, realization washing over his face. He rubs his jaw and huffs a laugh at you. You just want a rise out of him. 

“I’m not doing this right now. We’re gonna go inside and you’re gonna behave.” He looks you straight on. “Please.” You roll your eyes but let his jeans go, nod your head once and huff right back at him. “Thank you.” He heads back around to turn his car off and close the door, motioning for you to follow him when he heads for the front. You debate standing out in this parking lot till he comes back, leaned against his car and moody but he whistles, the sharp sound echoing off the building and you roll your eyes again. 

“I’m not a dog.” You scowl at him and start trying to pry your phone case off to get your ID. He watches, amused for a moment before snatching your phone out of your hand and pulling out your ID to hand to the bouncer. 

“No, they listen better.” 

“Dick.” Holding your hand out you expect him to just drop your stuff in your hand but it puts your phone back together again. 

“Don’t break a nail.” 

Eddie didn’t actually need you along, that much is clear. Once you two get in he stands close behind you until some guy that you’ve maybe seen before comes over. Before Eddie walks away he grabs your elbow to get you to look at him. 

“Be nice.”

“I’m so nice Eddie.” You lean into his touch, batting your lashes at him. He just gives you that detached stare you’re getting used to. 

He isn’t gone for long but it’s enough for you to start a game of pool by yourself and get a drink. The bar is a little shoddy but it’s busier than you thought it would be. The room you’ve ended up in has four tables and a handful of groups with no one paying you any mind, even if you are overdressed for this place. 

You’ve sunk half the solids when you feel a hand on your hip while you’re bent over the corner of the table and you whip around, cue clutched in your hand like a weapon. Eddie immediately backs up, hands held up in front of himself. 

“Whoa Rambo, sorry.”

“Announce yourself, Jesus.” 

“You were really gonna hit me weren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” You lean back down to finish your shot. 

“You beat a lot of guys up in pool halls?” He cocks his hip into the table, watches you sink two more balls. “You’re good at this.”

“Thank you, and no, not in pool halls.” You sigh at him. “But I have laid hands on a few men, why? Do I need to lay hands on you?”

Eddie chuckles, “Uh, no. I’m not really into slapping girls around.” 

“You coulda fooled me earlier.” 

He holds his hand out for the pool cue and you hand it over. He lays down against the table to get at a striped ball and you follow the long line of him draped over the felt. His all black is stark against the bright green, his hair falling forward where he’s trying to blow it out of the way. You pull the curls back with your index finger and he sinks one in a corner pocket. “Thanks.”

“How do you know I’m beating up guys?”

“It’s what Lisa’s gone to court over a few times. Doesn’t take a genius.”

Fair. You nod at him and finish your drink, dropping the glass at an empty table. “You all done?”

“We can finish your game.” 

You want to be funny and ask which one. That spark of fight you had earlier has been petering out, the last half hour spent alone just reminding you of your joggers at home. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Well then I want to finish it.” He walks to the other side of the table to eye a shot. “You want another drink?” He’s in a better mood so something went right, and he didn’t even need you. You tell him as much and he stands back up from where he was taking a shot. 

“I needed you just in case, okay?” He shrugs at you.

“Oh you know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Jesus christ.” He rubs a hand down his face and stares up at the ceiling, pool cue propped in front of him. 

You barely know him, really just what everyone else has said. You’ve heard it all from Steve and from Kim and from Dani. Heard it through parties and from Lisa when you’re both at Rick’s. Everyone either wants to fuck him or they’re singing his praises. You’ve watched him cruise through spaces with new girls on his arm all the time, watched him look uninterested and unflappable and unconcerned and maybe you wanted to get under his pretty skin. Make him a little concerned. 

“I thought you might cool off out here by yourself.” He walks around the table to lean on it, across from where you’ve propped yourself against the wall. 

“Well I did and then you showed back up.” You give him your best bedroom eyes. Run your tongue ring light against your teeth so he can see it glint, hear it clink before your pull it back in. “So this is all on you big guy.” 

“Big guy.”

“Don’t like nicknames?” You push off the wall to stroll the three feet over to him, hands tucked behind your back. “I don’t mind them, but then again I usually get the mean ones.” You stop, toe to toe with his boots. He isn’t moving or sighing or rolling his eyes, just braced against the edge of the table watching you like a hawk. You lean down to whisper close to his cheek, “Jokes on them, I like those the best.” There’s that little curl of the corner of his mouth again, like he’s trying to hide his smile from you. “You can laugh, I know I’m funny.” There’s a perfect ringlet laying against the open collar of his shirt that you’ve been staring at. You wind it around your index finger and bring your other hand to rest on his thigh. “It’s only midnight, you can still get me home on time, win that big prize.” The curl springs off your finger. “Or we can just fuck in your backseat, I’m sure there’s enough room for what, five minutes of bliss?”

The backseat of a Dodge Challenger is but a mere suggestion. You realize this only after Eddie has shoved you in behind the driver seat and folded himself in after you. His long legs tangled until he finally sits back and yanks you over his lap, pulling the heel of your shoe to help swing your knee over. Your dress is already short and with your knees splayed wide it slides right up to your hips, giving Eddie all the space to run his hands up your thighs. The roof is low so you have to stay close to him, hands gripped tight in his hair to pull him against the back dash and hold him in place while you kiss him hard. He groans when you shove your tongue in his mouth and grind down into his lap, his fingers sliding up under your thighs to grip, brushing over your thong before he breaks the kiss. 

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” You pull his hair harder and he shoves his fingers into your underwear. 

“Are you seriously this wet? Over what, our little fight?” He’s mocking you, eyes shining in the dim light filtering through his heavy tint. You scoff and pull away so you can attack his neck again, the hiss he lets out accompanied by the painful grip he has on the cuff of your ass. You hate that it pulls a whine out of you while you’ve got your teeth in him, knows he can feel it against his bruised skin when he moves his fingers further up, teasing at your hole. 

“Fuck.”

He takes your momentary lapse to pull at your braid, wrapping it around his fist twice so he can pull your head back. Your nose is pushed up against the roof and all you can do is look down at him, your hands still locked in his hair. He pulls your thong to the side, runs his thumb up the cleft of your ass to fully move it and you gasp into the headliner. His fingers slide through your pussy, pressing in at your entrance until he feels you clenching. “Oh you want it bad don’t you?” His voice is dark but you can make out the little pants between words. “I bet you’ve been waiting every day for me to text you huh?” He slowly slides his finger in and you cant your hips down to try to speed him up. “Is that why you tried to start a fight earlier?” He tilts your head back further and pumps his hand a few times before adding another finger, leans up to lick a stripe up to your chin. “Did you want me to fuck you over the pool table? Right in front of everybody, you could have really shown off tonight.” Your jaw hangs when picks up his pace, thick fingers dragging against your walls when you tighten around him. “Is this how I get you to shut up?” He moves his fingers against that soft spot and you laugh between gasps because he’s still on that?

“If you want me to shut up you can just do it yourself.”

He pulls his hand away from you, leaving you clenching after nothing, and you feel him bucking around under you. Out of the corner of your eye you see him toss his wallet and then hear his zipper. The crinkle of a foil wrapper and you make a face he can’t see. 

“Aw, you don’t trust me? I’m on the pill.” You can feel him pulling at his jeans and his cock bumps you, hot against your inner thigh. 

“No.” He lines himself up and pulls you down till you’re seated fully against him, leans his head into your chest with a groan, hand gripping your thigh to hold you still for a moment. Your happy he can’t see your face, eyes squeezed shut and lip stuck between your teeth. He’s thick, stretches you enough that you’re fluttering around him but you don’t want to give him anymore satisfaction other than what he can feel. You let your hands drop so you can brace yourself on his knees, so you can roll your hips down into him. 

“Oh fuck keep doing that.” He’s still buried in your chest, mouthing at your tit through your very nice dress, moaning against you and really he’s making it too easy. 

“I know, that feels good doesn’t it?” You whine at him. “Talk a big game Munson, I’m the star fucking ath-“ He lets go of your hair and grabs your face, big palm covering your mouth to finally shut you up. Muffled, coming out around his hand in wet bursts, you laugh. 

“Want me to shut y’up, I’ll shut y’up.” He slides down lower in the seat and bounces you forward, holds your hip steady and starts pounding up into you. It punches the air out of your lungs along with any more shit talk you had left. The stretch of his cock burns, hurts a little where he’s hitting you over and over inside but you bite his fingers when rubs his thumb over your ignored clit. 

“All you do is run y’fuckin’ mouth.” He’s keeping up his pace, bullying in to you and you’re whining behind his hand, grabbing at his shirt to try to keep yourself steady. “Don’t know when t’shut the fuck-“ You’re close and you bear down on him pushing your hips into his hand, chasing that heat growing low. A groan crawls out of your chest when he hits just right and you fall into him, hand sliding up around his neck to hang on, riding out your high. His hips stutter and he pulls you down, holding you tight to him when he comes, breathing heavy into your throat. 

You’re the first to move, peeling your hand away from his shirt and catching a glimpse of a tattoo near his collarbone. 

“Is that a D20?” 

“What?” Eddie has his eyes closed and head back, catching his breath while you prod around in his shirt. 

“Your tattoo.” You poke it and he looks down, frowning. 

“Oh, yeah.” His breath catches when you sit up and he slips out, watches you pretzel yourself to get into the front seat without getting out of the car. “DnD shit.”

You’re pulling your clothes back into place, looking around for your phone. “I took you for a Warhammer guy.” 

Eddie stops putting himself away to stare at the back of your head. “What do you know about Warhammer?” You don’t turn, just hold up your phone so he can see your background, big lady in big armor. 

“Sister of Battle.” 

Eddie doesn’t have time for this, he can feel the urge to start asking questions but he tamps it down, just wants to get you home so he can also go home. Wants to take a shower. Wants to go to bed. You are utterly tiring in a hundred different ways that he doesn’t care to examine right now. 

Halfway back to Hawkins he stops at a McDonalds because you want a milkshake and he doesn’t want to argue. In the drive thru he catches a glance at his neck in the rear view. 

He almost opens his mouth to say something but again, he’s not starting shit with you at 1:30 in the morning, not when you’ve been quiet and humming along to the radio, mindlessly scrolling your phone. 

You look up when he pulls into a spot at your apartment. “Well this was great, though I don’t expect any purses from this.” You snatch your keys and your milkshake and get out, coming around to lean down at his door. “You know Dani won’t tell any of us what she did for that bag. I’m kind of afraid to ask what kind of depraved shit you two are getting up to.” 

“Well, if she’s not talking I’m not.” Eddie is quiet, tries to take a pull off his vape and it’s dead. He was hoping he could cover up your perfume with that sugar vapor. You just hum and wink at him. “Thanks for the milkshake Eddie.” You finally start walking away and he catches two red marks on your thigh peaking out from the hem of your dress. You twist back to wave at him before climbing the stairs. 

“Call me, Vlad. This was fun.”

[pvtjxker]

They occupied my school again.

Which wouldn't be bad, if the current political condition doesn't risk us all ending up in hospital beaten by the police.

Sending you updates as soon as something happens

[ask-the-doppelganger]

{hlep I think I wrote myself into a corner and it's complicated.}

{we have multiple interlocking story threads, right. The problem ones are the town terror storyline, the lemon tree merchant, and the captive pigeon storyline. I think the best way to structure this is in a list.}

The Doppelganger is currently a pigeon. It needs to eat a lot to be able to shapeshift back into a human shape.

The Lemon Tree Merchant (joke character made by I think @/eggsforbrunch, I will tag the account afterwards) offered to sell it a lemon tree that grows clones for two strands of human hair. The clones are edible, that would solve the shapeshifting problem.

The Town Terror Storyline ties in: the victims asked for help from the Doppelganger, who agreed to help for the two strands of hair the Lemon Tree Merchant wanted for a tree.

This would lead to the Doppel being able to assume a human form again, logically, right?

Except there is ANOTHER storyline I want to make canon. I dubbed it "captive pigeon", in which @steven-rudboys and a doorman (I am pretty sure it's @/cheryl-elwood) catch the pigeon, realize it's a doppel, abd cage it, to ask it a few questions.

So I think I want to destroy that tree, but. I'm not sure how yet.

{anyway if you guys have any idea on how to detangle this mess, do tell me please.}

[lola-babylon]

Ryan didn't quit social media because of the "Panic stalker"

There's a weird narrative in certain sections of fandom that after going through the horrible experience of being cat fished through text message by a stalker impersonating Brendon in 2013, Ryan Ross retreated like a wounded bird from all social media, never to be seen online again.

If you've found this post through the Ryan Ross tags, we'll assume you're familiar with the story of the Panic! stalker; if not, the best write up is this one from Reddit, I don't want to give them anymore publicity.

Being cat fished is horrible experience; to have it happen publicly in the guise of someone who was once a close friend must have been a ghastly experience. But however Ryan dealt with it, it wasn't by suddenly abandoning all public life, or at least online public life, in 2013. He kept posting casual shots on insta for years. All of these are photos Ryan chose to share publicly on his official instagram account, thisistherealryanross, so posting these may be a breach of IP rights but not a breach of privacy. You can see the dates they were posted on the lower right corner of the images, or go to his instagram account and check for yourself.

2014

2015

2016

2017

2018

2019

And I just wanted to add a link to this video of Dottie, because she's just so darn cute. (There's a tonne of cute Dottie posts, but the lady has her own Tumblr so I'll leave it at that).

Ryan does seem to have stopped posting any personal or social pics in 2020, but that was such a batshit crazy year who knows what any of us were doing? If he decided to step back from social media, if that was a decision that worked for him then and still does now, cool. (Sure we'd like to see a few more pics of Dottie and Elwood, but if not, we're not owed).

Painting Ryan Ross as a tragic recluse haunted from public life and social media after a catfishing incident is demeaning to Ryan for the same reason as the misleading narrative that his legacy was stolen by Brendon Urie, leaving Ryan broke and broken; telling it like that robs the man of his agency, and I'm sure if he knew he'd be exasperated at being turned into the Syd Barrett of emo.

[cavecrawling]

BASICS:

| ⠀legal name: abigail elwood.

⠀⠀⠀nicknames: abi, little creature (duke), thing (the four lords)

| ⠀main faceclaim: laura (the evil within)

| ⠀orientation: unlabelled

⠀⠀⠀identity: afab she/her - often referred to as an 'it'

| ⠀shipping: closed.

| ⠀ethnicity: romanian.

⠀⠀⠀languages: english (fluent), romanian (fluent)

| ⠀age: physically nineteen

⠀⠀⠀born: 1928 - technically making her ninety three.

| ⠀height: 5'4

| ⠀backstory: (basic)

she stumbled on the village after going on a trip with her mother, father and her siblings. being a while in the past, brith control wasn't really a thing, and two parents watching over 8 children (including abigail) was difficult. she was older, so not watched as closet, and therefore mistakenly left behind in the winter months and forced to survive by herself.

she stumbled across the village after a week of finding shelter in caves and thick bushes, eating the few berries she could find, and any small animals she could catch. a villager found her curled up in one of the cabins on the village outskirts used to store wood for fires, and took her in to miranda.

it was inevitable miranda would view her as a potential vessel for her daughter, as abigail was young, pretty and healthy. she also knew, given her lack of a role in the village, she would not be missed should she disappear.

abigail, fooled by miranda's apparent caring nature, was quick to agree to the 'few tests' she had insisted upon to ensure she was fit and healthy to live amongst the other villagers.

her reaction to the cadou was unfavourable, immediately resulting in an agonising mutation. it resulted in her growing in size, four extra limbs - with claws growing from each finger - protruding from her back. her mouth became filled with razor sharp teeth, so long and pointed she was unable to close her mouth, lest she puncture her own skin. catching sight of herself in a mirror miranda had propped up, the girl - now creature - fled in a hurry until she found the entrance to a cave, which led her to a vast system spanning out beneath the village.

miranda would often take trips down there to monitor the progress, sometimes finding abigail curled up in a corner in her red dress, knees tucked to her chest and her face pressed into them. and sometimes, most often, she would find the girl in her mutated form. her mutations, while uncontrollable, were also unpredictable - sometimes staying mutated for years on end, only to be her normal self for mere days before it takes hold of her once again.

the first time miranda looked at her while mutated, abigail flew into a blind rage, doing her best to attack miranda - with little to no success.

disappointed, yet not surprised, miranda deemed her a failure and left her in the cave systems below the village.

abigail never ventures out while mutated, however occasionally she will leave during the short times she's back to her normal self. she has a small friendship with the duke, who takes pity on her and her situation and will sometimes give her bread or meat that was bordering expired.

[savemewattpad]

Wicked and Divine: Part 1, Chapter 1

all her life, she's bound to lose...

Summary:

When John Winchester gets a call from a thirteen-year-old girl claiming to be his daughter, he and Dean go to investigate, bringing them into a complicated web woven by a charismatic cult leader named David Elwood--who also claims to be the girl's "husband."

Or, how Esther Smith became Leila Winchester.

Warnings: Sexual Abuse, Religious Abuse, Cults, Child Marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage

Pairings: None

Next Chapter | Masterlist

Read on AO3

Oregon, 1988

“I shouldn’t be flirting with you,” Melisa says, taking another drink of whiskey. It burns, and she knows it’s supposed to. It still feels like punishment. 

John Winchester sits across from her, studying her. He’s a quiet man, she’s found, in the short time she’s known him, but she thinks there’s nothing that really gets past him. 

“And why’s that?” he asks, a smile toying at the corner of his mouth. “You got someone at home?”

An icy chill settles into her gut. “Define ‘home,’” she says. There’s nobody waiting for her in her apartment, but there’s a presence that follows her everywhere ever since she met him . The man that changed her life. Sometimes, in petty, ungrateful, cowardly moments, she wonders if it was really for the better. 

John looks away, pensive, and takes a swig of his own drink in lieu of a response. She wonders what home is to him. 

She takes him to her apartment anyway. Maybe she shouldn’t--despite the fact that he saved her life, he’s still a stranger, and a sketchy one at that. Maybe it’s that risk that makes him appealing to her. Maybe that’s what it all comes down to. 

She keeps looking at her Gibborim Bible on her side table, like she’s asking it for forgiveness. John follows her gaze. He doesn’t ask about it. She supposes he’s seen too many crazy things to call anyone’s religion crazy. 

“I can’t stay the night,” John says as he starts getting dressed. “Sorry.” He sounds genuine, if cavalier. 

“Do you believe in faith healers?” Melisa asks him instead, apropos of nothing, and he gives her that scrutinizing look again, the one that seems to pierce right through her. 

“I’ve never seen one that was legit,” he says finally, with a shrug. 

“And you’ve seen a lot of crazy things,” she clarifies. 

He smiles bitterly. “Something like that, yeah.”

He looks at her again, a little softer this time, and she thinks he’s about to ask if she’s okay--she’s already bristling, ready to lash out at the question--

He shakes his head and looks down, pulling out a small notebook and scribbling something down. 

“This is my phone number,” he says, tearing the page out and setting it on her side table. She could swear there’s something...pointed, about the way he sets it on her bible. “In case there’s any more dybbuk trouble.”

Melisa nods a little. It’s unlikely. She’s probably never seeing him again, she realizes. There’s something bittersweet in that. It’s better that way. 

“Thanks for saving my life,” she tells him. 

He smiles. “You already told me that.”

“It’s worth repeating.” She smiles a little. “Goodbye, John.”

John has only been gone for a minute or so when he calls. And it’s one of those things that keeps her coming back, one of those things that doesn’t make sense unless he is what he says he is: he always knows when to call. He always knows when something’s happened, when she needs guidance. 

“David,” she says when she picks up. Thank God.  

“Melisa,” David says in that calm, velvet voice. “How are you?”

“I’m--” she almost says ‘good,’ reflexively, but she promised him she would never keep secrets from him. It’s liberating, in a way. 

She can’t find the words, so she sighs. 

“I sensed turmoil in your spirit,” David says, after giving her a moment to speak. “That’s why I called. Are you alright?”

“I--” she hesitates for a long moment. All of her guilt, all of her fear, it hits her all at once, and she feels like she could drown in it. Finally, she admits, “I need help.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” David replies. “We’ll pray together, you and me. It’ll be alright.”

And there’s something in his voice that makes her believe him, more than she’s ever believed in anything. 

2002

It’s early in the afternoon when Jim Murphy gets the call. 

Sam is in the kitchen doing homework. Jim had told him to ask if he needed help, but Sam doesn’t seem to need it. He’s a smart kid. Jim wonders, idly, what he could do in a family that stayed in one place for longer than three months at a time. 

“Jim Murphy.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. 

“Hello?”

“Um. I’m looking for John Winchester?” The voice on the other end is young, female, and sounds scared. Quiet, like she’s trying not to be overheard somehow. 

Jim knows that John used to give out his number as his own, back before cell phones were ubiquitous, but he hasn’t gotten a call for him in nearly a decade. “How’d you get this number, kiddo?”

“It was in my mom’s stuff. Her name was Melissa Smith. I--I think I’m his daughter.” Her voice breaks as the words tumblr out, quickly, like she’s running out of time. “And I need his help.”

“How old are you?” He reaches for a pad of paper and a pen on the counter. 

“Thirteen.”

“What’s your address?”

“I don’t--I don’t know what that means. Please can I just talk to John? I need help.”

How does a thirteen year old not know their address? “Where do you live? I’ll send him.”

“Woodscross.”

“Where is that?”

“In Oregon.” She pronounces Oregon strangely, like Oree-gone . He files away that detail for later. “Please help me. I think he’s trying to kill me.”

Jim Murphy is good in a crisis--it’s kind of his job--but the words do surprise him. He tries to keep his voice calm, for her sake. 

“Whoa, slow down. Who’s trying to kill you?”

There’s another long pause, and then: “I have to go. I think they found me.”

“No, wait, what’s your n--”

Click.