#i was sick for like a week and shark week happened on top of that and ive been working on a fic

[talkorsomething]

I have Got to get more transgender

[mydetheturk]

ah fuck let the queue run empty

gonna be random times of the day when i get online and you're getting posts again, sorry lads

[crow-ur-beloved]

various jrwi headcanons because the worms in my brain (potential autism) wont shut up. no real plot spoilers except for one, but its marked :]

the suckening:

shilo is like vampire immunocompromised, which added to the pile of reasons his mom used to keep him inside the castle because she didnt want him to immediately get 37 different diseases and Die. (if vampires can have allergies then id like to think they can also get sick. i dont actually know if thats possible in the vtm system but i dont care they can in my heart)

genderfuck/genderpunk afab emizel. i feel like thats the only label he'd use, if he had to have one. i dont think hed label his sexuality because he wants to be an enigma. but he Definitely likes men.

bizley said in the qna something that can Only let me think of shilo as aromantic. maybe aro And ace... i dont remember what he said exactly aughhgh i wish i did...

shilo fidgets with his hands like all the time. his mother and uncle tried to get him to stop and sit still because it wasnt very princely and whatnot but my boy needs a fidget toy. i think hed go craaaazy with an infinity cube

i feel like me saying arthur bennett is a bisexual doesnt even count as a headcanon like i think thats just a given. i feel like itd be more surprising if i said i thought he was straight. all beautiful beautiful vampire men have to be lgbtq. its the law actually

arthur never officially broke up with mary. mans just Left one day without warning. probably left a note that said "sorry. -arthur" on it. i doubt he had it in him to say goodbye to her face or his reasoning for it (he thought hed inevitably hurt her because of what he is and what he did to the people he loved in the past, because bad luck seems to follow him everywhere... oughh he makes me ill). he definitely used finding a new lead on anya somewhere else in the country as a good reason to dip. at least, as good a reason as it couldve been for him.

maybe controversial but i 100% think arthur and magnus had a one-night stand at the beginning of their relationship, before magnus met jerome, and they never talked about it again and pretend it never happened. cannot explain how real this is to me.

riptide:

ftm chip who 100% innately knew he was a dude since the moment he could think. like when the black rose pirates picked him up, he got confused when they started referring to him as a girl at first. probably never got The Talk from them, so was Very confused when he hit puberty. Reuben reluctantly helped him steal to pay for top surgery.

since tritons live at the bottom of the ocean, they would have eyes that are far more sensitive to light to allow them to see better since little light gets all the way down there. gillion was Immediately blinded by the sun when he surfaced and still gets headaches from how bright it is in the oversea, but they've gotten better the longer he's been up there. tritons are built to adapt to all kinds of conditions, so his eyes have slowly been getting a darker bluish-purple the longer he spends above the ocean; they were originally more of a light blue-grey.

in tandem with the last one, chip thinks hes either going crazy or a bad friend because he Swears gill's eyecolor is different than last week but how could that be possible, thats not just something he can do, right? why would he be able to do that???

if gillion gets knocked onto his back without warning he does that thing that sharks do where they get paralyzed for a bit when they get flipped upside down. its scary because he can see everything but cant do anything. he also definitely forgot to tell chip and jay about this fact and scared the Shit out of them the first time it happened around them.

gillion can also change his sex like some fish can. its the reason he can lay eggs. i think this makes it safe to say genderfluid/nonbinary/generally trans gillion tidestrider is highly possible and even probable in this headcanon. what im saying is t4t fish n chips.

not to headcanon all my favs as trans but i cant help it. it is the highest honor i can bestow upon them. anyways. mtf jay ferin. ava always knew and was the first person jay came out to. jay was also 100% named jayson after her father and went by jay most of her life anyway as a nickname and just decided to stick with it instead of picking anything else. may was always very openly-supportive of her. jayson was as supportive as a generally strict, overbearing, unsupportive-in-everything father can be. jay totally came out to him and the first thing he said to her was something like, "as long as it doesnt interfere with your navy training," and may promptly kicked him under the table and made him say something nice.

kiras trans too btw. she came out before jay and helped jay discover she was trans. and that she liked women.

(spoilers for 109 and beyond) chip can't entirely remember what he looks like. everytime he focuses on the illusion of hiding that hes practically just a skeleton now, it changes just a bit. freckles in the wrong places, the wrong shade of orange for his flame tattoos, too much light in his eyes, too much muscle on his arms. jay notices it but cant bring herself to say anything. she knows the illusion is meant to keep everyone from worrying, but, everytime she sees something off about it, she just remembers what he really looks like underneath, and that somehow feels worse.

blood in the bayou:

all these bitches gay as hell. kian is pan. rands got a lot of internalized homophobia. rolan probably too. its the 80s, man.

apotheosis (haven't finished it yet so idk how true these'll be lol):

agender rumi. godbless.

also rumis a theater kid. he got the lead in every musical he auditioned for because he could literally just shapeshift. theyd make up a new identity and appearance for every role and get to know everyone on the cast and then mysteriously drop off the face of the planet as that person when the production was over and nobody would know it was them.

peter has actually tried All Kinds of things. weed. yoga. multilevel marketing schemes. you name it, big chance hes done it at least once and didnt like it. he doesnt know how he ends up in the situations to try it, either.

[shadowreader23]

Batman prank fic (part 2)

Tim grinned manically as he finished the code. He was already on his sixth cup of coffee and he had been up all night working on this code but it was finally finished. Glaring at his now empty coffee cup like it betrayed him he went downstairs to grab some more coffee to prepare himself for the day.

"Morning tim!" Dick greetedly happily as Tim walked into the kitchen

Dick was sat on the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal.

"Alfreds gonna kill you for that" Tim informed Dick of his fate.

"Nah hes gone to the store for some supplies so i broke out some of my secret ceral stash" Dick replied

"I do not undersrand your love for that sugary terror" Damian complained entering the kitched to make himself some toast

"For once i agree with Damian"

"Tch. Well Drake it's time you finaly see i have the most sense. Also I wish to know are we truly continuing with the prank tirade to see who is the best at pranks? And who is fathers favorite beacuse i do not understand the point of seeing who is the best at pranks" Damian reasoned

"Think of it not as pranking but as a test of your planning, preparation, execution, and emotional manipulation skills" Tim translated into Damian speak.

It was true pranks required planning then the action and elected the desired emotion in the person being pranked. Ok maybe he should get some sleep how long had it been again?

"Well may the best son win" Damian said

"I already have a head start" Dick reminda then

"The pink batsuit was childsplay however the voice was a nice touch" Tim reluctantly admits

It had been over a week since Dick painted the batsuit pink and Bruce was still finding glitter in the cave.

"I'll see you later" Tim decides to leave the kitchen with his mug of coffee to retreat to his room and watch the choas that was about to unfold. ----------------- "Grayson!" Robin called angroly glaring at Nightwing who was lounging in the front passenger seat of the batmobile

"I called shotgun you know the rules baby bird" Nightwing retorted

With a glare Robin climbed into the back of the batmobile and waited for batman.

The three of them were going to investigate something strage happening commisioner Gordon himself had requested their aid.

Red Robin was not patroling tonight but was helping Agent A run coms.

"Lets go" Batman said climbing into the batmobile and driving full speed from the cave

"Can i play music?" Nightwing asked giving his most pleeding face

"No" Batman responded

"Please" Nightwing asked again "No" Batman responded once more

"But B" Nightwing pleaded

"You are an adult now Nightwing set a good example for Robin" Batman finished

A moment of awkward silence passed then the speakers in the car came to life.

'Baby shark do do do do do'

Robins face folded into a scowl as Nightwings became one of pure hapiness

"Baby shark do do do do do do' Nightwing began to sing along

"Nightwing turn it off" Batman ordered

"I didn't even turn it on!" Nightwing protested

The song continued to play and despite their best efforts they could not get it to stop. They had the same problem on the way back from meeting Gordon as well. By that point even nightwing was sick of the song.

Tim smiled and sipped his coffe this was more of a revenge prank than a normal prank but it still counted. He'd like to see the others try and top that. But first it was time for one of Alfreds cookies.

______ Part 3? Who should prank Bruce next?

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

June 18, 2014

SAD DAY ON CONEY ISLAND — MIGHTY JOEY CHESTNUT OUT

NEWS FLASH! World Champion hot-dog-eater Joey Chestnut has been banned from Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest! Hells bells Wilson, what is this world coming to. Chestnut is the perennial winner — 19 years running — of the Independence Day extravaganza and holds the world record of eating (swallowing) 76 beef dogs in 10 minutes. Heck, the entire staff here at Smart Bomb couldn't eat that many franks in 10 minutes — or all day for that matter. The drama is outlined in The Atlantic magazine under the headline, “The Dog Days of Summer”: Turns out that Joey signed a sponsorship deal with another hot dog company — and get this Wilson, they're meatless dogs! Holy s - - t! The host of the Nathan's dog contest, George Shea, told The New York Times, “It would be like back in the day Michael Jordan coming to Nike — who made his Air Jordans — and saying, ‘I am going to rep Adidas too’ … It just can’t happen.” The annual Coney Island glut is no small deal. TV coverage garners more than 1 million viewers. Still, competitive eaters like Chestnut struggle to cash in on their fame. Imagine this Wilson, you're a cashier at a department store and people come up to you and say, oh my god, aren't you Joey Chestnut? WTF — no deal with Nike?

YOU CAN'T IMAGINE HOW HARD IT IS TO BE DONALD TRUMP

Wilson, did you ever consider how difficult it is to be Donald J. Trump? The Democrats want to cut his head off — or so says the big orange guy. “Haul out the Guillotine!” he said last week in a fund-raising email, “is the sick dream of every Trump-deranged lunatic out there!” At a Las Vegas campaign rally the former president asked the adoring crowd what would happen if he were on a battery powered boat that was sinking near a shark. No Wilson, we are not making this up. “Do I stay on top of the boat and get electrocuted or do I jump in over by the shark... ” FYI: he chose electrocution. What that has to do with anything, we're not sure but it is entertaining in a stupid sort of way. And then there was this: Adam Schiff, D-Cal., told Republicans on the House Judiciary Committee that he would like to quote the jury in Trump's New York hush-money trial: “Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty... (he said 34 times). Fortunately Trump has Marjorie Taylor Greene to defend him. “The Democrats and the fake news media want to constantly talk about ‘Oh, President Trump is a convicted felon,’” she said. “Well, the man that I worship is also a convicted felon, and he was murdered on a Roman cross.” Joy to the world, Don the Christ has come.

NEW ANTI-WOKE WATER — DRINK UP FREEDOM

It's called “Freedom2o” and it will make you giddy with righteousness and the knowledge that you don't have to swallow any more woke water. “This water isn't free but your speech is,” according to a post on “X” during the right-wing Turning Point USA's People's Conference. “It's not just refreshing, it rebellious and it's unapologetic to drink this in public,” said company founder Elizabeth White. “[It] isn’t just about what’s inside the bottle,” she added, “it’s about the message it sends with every sip.” The communiqué apparently being something like the MAGA directive, “F- your feelings.” Yeah Wilson, the right is always being put upon by something or another. Imagine being forced to drink woke water — it's enough to make you puke. As White told the New York Post, she got the idea while watching the Republican debates, where she noticed audience members drinking water that had “no connection to the people drinking it.” Just think of it Wilson, drinking water that you had no political affinity with. You could get that twitchy thing that Democrats have. Or, you might feel like Martha-Ann Alito having to look across the lake at a rainbow flag for an entire month. Boy, she could sure use some Freedom2o now — along with her Glenlivet. Better make that a double.

Post script — That's just about going to do it for another fun-filled week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of Mike Lee so you don't have to. Yes Wilson, it is quite a community service when you consider that Utah's senior senator has no soul — he sold it on the cheap to you know who. Recently, Lee voted against a bill guaranteeing IVF (in vitro fertilization), calling it “showboating” by Democrats. Meanwhile, he introduced legislation to stop noncitizen immigrants from voting —there is no evidence they are — which is against the law already. This week The Salt Lake Tribune reported that Lee asked Republicans in an unofficial poll if they would rather listen to NPR, KSL or be waterboarded. Of the 931 respondents, 85.8 percent chose the torture, he said. The tempest in a teapot, according to Trib ace Jeff Parrott, was a response to a social post by KSL that said the Utah GOP had “been running into tough times” and asked if folks were “tired of the Republican Party’s antics?” Your right Wilson, when it comes to fiction Lee is no slouch and he loves to say, I told you so — nanner, nanner nanner. “Waterboarding seems to be enjoying an early lead over listening to either KSL or NPR,” he said, “I totally understand.” Nanner, nanner, nanner. Such a statesman. Rock on, Mike Lee.

OK Wilson, Mike Lee ain't no elitist like them liberal Dems — although he clerked for Samuel Alito; his father, Rex E. Lee, was U.S. solicitor general under Ronald Reagan; his brother Thomas Rex Lee is a justice on the Utah Supreme Court. Oh, and Mike Lee spent much of his youth in an upscale suburb of Washington, D.C. Maybe you and the guys in the band can cook up a nice little ditty for Mike “Me-No-Elitists” Lee.

Some folks are born made to wave the flag Ooh, they're red, white and blue And when the band plays "Hail To The Chief" Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no Some folks are born silver spoon in hand Lord, don't they help themselves, oh But when the taxman come to the door Lord, the house lookin' like a rummage sale, yeah It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no Some folks inherit star-spangled eyes Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord And when you ask 'em, "How much should we give?" Ooh, they only answer, "More! More! More!" Yo It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no no no It ain't me, it ain't me...

(Fortunate Son — Credence Clearwater Revival)

[the-firebird69]

We have a lot of things to talk about but he wants to get to it cuz his battery is going to be run down

-we have programs that are in the works one of them is Cabo and they're starting to drill estimate two days at the rates are going to the cavern and I know where we have to be and what we're going to use and they're not going to be doing it we have to continue to make it work and the sharks are going to leave shortly except for the one that's at fisherman's village it's kind of a trick and it works this will be in time hopefully it's going to be close I think tonight or this coming morning and the tax will begin on the ships already they're started because they found their loaded with invasion stuff and yeah 10 Mile ships can carry a lot the down pressure is not exactly helping I'm exploring air from a higher atmosphere but it is blowing air from the ocean even if it's constant the Ocean Air is blowing under it and it blows in so it's a little more air here and people are croaking cuz they're sick losers and they're drinking the poop that Tommy f put in there

-there's other things happening one of them is Tommy f is on the list to go other people have it on there too including some of his clones and he's obnoxious rude and does nothing but bother our son we saw it the other day and we want him out we are hoping that our son tries to go to the casino but Ken won't go until October which is fine and they're going to plan on it and it will have an effect

-we need to warn people this place is hostile these people are hostile our son does not need to be more aggravated you need to come in here and make him feel better or you need to go to another assignment I don't see why he'd be harassing him even the manipulations were doing sometimes too costly and not worth it for what we're doing he comes up with ideas and get some going that are massive and the routines were running sometimes illegal to run here we have to look at that and our son and daughter say that a lot of the stuff is dangerous and so looking at it you should point out the problems and we might be able to eliminate the source and it's not us I do agree

-there are other things happening there's too many fruit cakes in the neighborhood people do nothing and we need to get them to fight each other and get them hell out and last night they had 20 at the inside rain but they did nothing they're going to try again and there are 50 left original households no kidding that's small and they're getting weaker and we need to take advantage of it and we are shortly

-also the people here are suicidal and homicidal they want to get rid of everyone thinking they can have our son do stuff or learn how to imitate him or something without other people around and they have a massive idiotic attitude problem you simply have to hit them a lot more and we need an aggressive program and we need someone to take control of it permanently or for a week on and switch it over and not one of us at the top level or excellence like that we need to Colonel to take it over and then pass it on most likely kernels that are here it's a good idea and once a week past the next and tell you what's going on it's very difficult place it's a way to educate people in Florida he wants to go ahead and do that and that's one of our kernels so going to see if he can Captain the pilot program and he's willing to the others are stepping forwards and he knows it's hard but he's unarmed doesn't have an army here is very young and suddenly we're hearing them saying we know about it but yeah we got to get there so this will do it

-we have a lot of people here who are angry at these idiots and we want them to volunteer and for this tour in the coming and help out and these kernels will make it happen it will be organized and it is a suggestion of Frank Castle hardcastle to have the colonels do it so he was ready and helped it happen and that's good he says

-anyways there's other things happening we're coming in Monday with construction crews so right now we're doing surveys of land and buildings and assessments and scans and finding some stuff and not a massive amount we are encountering some things were buried like cars and trucks and have to be removed some of them have bodies in them no it's really bizarre and they look like they're intact and kept in decent condition the answer is no they buried them to destroy them and we will get back at them and bury them to destroy them

-we have also enough from these three here and we're going to cut them loose and we're going to cut Garth and his sister loose and social security it's in the works and it's in the works to fire morlock from government positions and we are going forwards with that this week heavily

-we're also doing a lot of work around the world on these people in their areas we're going to take over the islands all of them and we're going to start maneuvering to do so and we don't want people worrying over them constantly and it's harder to monitor but we're going to take them over and install Shields it's far less oxygen and energy consumed and then all their exhaust and we're going to proceed shortly and the clothes will protest but that's their problem and we'll have to make war on them

-there's a lot of problems that have developed because of these idiots and the program is changing because of them and we want in to see what it is we need information and we need it now and we need real information there are a few other things happening the police

-there's the sheriff is going to be cut down to 100 Monday and the police to 30 and the higher-ups to 1200 Republican private workers down to two and a half percent and 5% respectively and others it will be a big day for firings in the max want to see if they can get anything out of it and it's going to be dry as we know and it is because of a few factors mostly the idiots are doing things that are counterproductive for almost everyone including themselves but they say they're going to fire a lot of people and actually we need them to they need to get the hell out of here.

-well we have a few goals that son wants to go with Mac to the Cuban sandwich thing and you can't get there it doesn't have a vehicle doesn't know anyone with a vehicle that will do it and everybody here is a massive stinker and loser wants a new roof because he has to have one and we're going to start working on that Monday

-we also have a few people who are past but we mentioned it quite a few times

-there are troubled times here for a lot of people they don't have necessities they're having trouble at Walmart they can't get in and out and can't do the shopping and his mom is one of them who has trouble she says I just can't do it. She's going there and you try and get something that they want you to get that you don't want and spend 20 minutes f******around with it then you come back to it then you leave and repeat it takes like an hour so out there bothering your car and s*** but that's what you have to do so she goes in she's running around looking at the thing goes to the quilt place grabs the teeth a few things and comes out doesn't a few times and on the top you put things you might go bad and some sugary stuff so she did that a few times and it works and what was saying is he's doing stuff like that all the time and it's gotten to the point where they're cinching down on him and they're going to do it to others and they started to cinch down on her again she said I can't get stuff you have to go where we can and it'll drive them out there and you have to mention it she started doing that and it works and we want people to do that like will and Bill and Ken my son would if he was mobile

We're going to publish that's a lot of stuff in one post

Thor Freya

Hera Zues

Olympus

[godstrayed]

Part of him wants to make fun of the other for vomiting but in truth, Billy felt so close to it himself that he couldn’t bring himself to it. There was still the strong possibility he might end up hunched over. He’s ready to have a whole existential crisis over here and question everything. Was the universe so unkind to him to put him in this situation that could very well get him killed by Neil, mocked and ridiculed by bigoted assholes in this small ass town, and put him at the mercy of Steve fucking Harrington? If he wasn’t so focused on his own nightmare literally coming to life he might question why Harrington was covered in dirt and looking far worse than just Billy kicking his ass… but the only thing swirling in his head was how could something like this happen to him?

His nose wrinkles and his face twists in disgust. 

It makes sense in the way where nothing really good happens to Billy nor should it given his track record. He wasn’t exactly a person worthy of something super fucking grand popping up in his life. Perhaps this was payback for being an asshole at every little opportunity placed in front of him. Perhaps it was just another series of bad things that were far out of his control that seemed destined to happen to him. He hadn’t put much thought into soulmates after his mom left. The burning betrayal left Billy convinced and determined to just rely and count on himself, sure if he ever did encounter his soulmate it would be a stroke of luck because they weren’t supposed to be someone who could just leave him. However, it seemed they were a joke just like anything else. If Billy couldn’t be enough for a mother whose love was supposed to be fucking unconditional… certainly, he was doomed in regards to anything else.

If not, why the fuck would Harrington be his? Someone Billy had beat up, picked at every given moment, and a guy on top of all the other bullshit. 

More than anything he wants a clear understanding because he, too, couldn’t deal with this. Not with Neil around and not with his goals of leaving Hawkins in the fucking dust when he graduated. He didn’t want an anchor. He didn’t want a reason why he might end up targeted. And most importantly, he didn’t need any reason to be disillusioned ever fucking again.

“As far as we are concerned it didn’t fucking happen,” He says after a moment, “This doesn’t leave your lips, Harrington. I am not your fucking soulmate—this is all some sick misunderstanding and nothing else.”

Had he been an understanding person he might have stayed to sort this out properly but he wasn’t. His fingers squeeze around his keys and he’s moving to get into his car, not bothering to see what damage might have been done. His keys are put in the ignition and his foot is heavy on the gas he loudly leaves the road in the opposite direction of the creepy Byers house and Steve Harrington. None of this was his problem. Nope.

3 weeks later.

Ignoring Steve was fairly easy. They didn’t have the same social group and Billy knew how to make himself scarce. It wasn’t like he was keeping tabs on Steve or anything but he had noted he missed a day or two after the fight, making him wonder how he might be recovering. A thought that once caught burned so viciously Billy snapped at the first person who approached him afterwards.

And when Billy did want to find Steve it was fairly easy too. Trailing behind the priss Wheeler or off on his own or trailed by one of the snot-nosed brats. When Steve made the mistake of being in the same place as Billy for too long he let him have it, shoving, pushing past him, and adding snide remarks. 

But it brought its own peril being antagonistic towards Steve. Once a shark draws blood others flock to the kill. And as far as Billy was fucking concerned Steve was his to torment. There was almost the deeply uncomfortable pang of emotions that flooded Billy one evening. It caught him so off guard he had dropped his toothpick - stuck on trying to figure out what was happening and why he was angry, felt anxious, felt hurt. For someone who spent a lot of time with his own turbulent emotions he knew them well. This wasn’t his. Something was deeply unsettling about that.

He’s not keeping tabs, he just happens to know Steve has gym that period. Billy had skipped his own class in favor of a cigarette outside when he’s pushing through the gym doors to find a few guys he knew from Tommy and Carol’s circle. It doesn’t take much to decipher what’s going on when he spots Steve.

Enraged. It’s so animatedly red. Burning bright and hot in his lungs, anger fueling him forward as he grabs the closest one’s collar, shoving him forward and yanking him back hard. “What the fuck do you all think you���re doing?” His words are pure venom, threatening and incandescent. Calloused fingers lock into the guy’s hair, pulling: “He is mine to fuck with. He’s already been beat to shit. You think you can just mooch off my glory, shitstain? All of you, pussies. Can’t even fight like men. Fuck off.” He lets go of the guy he had grabbed, “Don’t fuck with him again.”

ㅤIf Billy had complained about waking up on the floor of the 'fucking creepy Byers house that looked primed for some sacrificial offering', Steve actually wouldn't have argued with him, especially since topping Billy's wake-up with his own - in a speeding car surrounded by children with one of them driving, fearing for his life along with all of theirs - would require telling on Max. He wasn't about to do that, not after how this whole mess had started.

ㅤ"Next time don't fucking scare your sister," he shot back, not even sure why he bothered except that he was suddenly also irritated possibly just from proximity with the asshole. Billy had that effect on him, he'd discovered, and he was not examining the whys of that. It was way easier to focus on what had actually sent him out to deal with Billy to begin with and why he'd lied to him. Max had been scared, all of the kids had been, and that had made Billy into a potential threat instead of just some jackass from school. He'd never expected it to escalate the way it had.

ㅤSome petty, nasty part of him wondered if Billy had opened the fridge. He hoped so.

ㅤIt was unlikely or Billy would probably be able to be more upset about the actual monsters they were dealing with instead of this personal tragedy. Somehow, Steve's panic was held off for the time being, but he was pretty sure it was because of his condition and the way he kept getting pissed kind of randomly in jerks and starts. It was really just his exhaustion that kept him from hanging onto it, though that was a problem for him, as well.

ㅤTossing the keys to him had actually been intended as some attempt at a peace offering - Billy wasn't going to have to ask and as soon as Steve knew he wasn't going to lunge at him, he'd step away from the car that was primarily keeping him upright. He was gathering himself after the brief rest that had been sitting behind the driver's seat, and he'd keep the kids under control until the real adults came back. He just needed to know what the fuck Billy was going to do.

ㅤHe didn't have to wait long.

ㅤThe kids were inside and Steve was thankful for that when Billy came at him. He had the bat and he knew his head was absolutely trashed because he didn't have a chance to even pretend he was going to raise it (and honestly, it was better that he hadn't, because there had never been a reality in which he'd have hit even Hargrove with that thing) before Billy Hargrove had him by the shirt with a harsh, jerky manhandling of his body away from the car and into the other's space. He released a sharp, pained breath, head swimming a little just at the snap movement before that brush of skin contact.

ㅤIf Billy thought it was so bright that it was nearly vomit-inducing as he suddenly released him and stepped back from him, Steve didn't stand a chance. The color absolutely flared to life with the light from the Byers' porch splitting his skull, Billy's eyes just so blue, and then he wasn't being held up by Billy or the car and the nausea hit so hard that he pitched sideways to empty his stomach. It was almost all bile at this point because he couldn't remember the last thing he'd eaten - maybe breakfast? No, there must have been a snack in there somewhere because the kids had to eat something.

ㅤHargrove was talking and it took Steve a second to realize that, sticking a shaky hand up to gesture that he needed a fucking minute, but tuning in meant that he caught some of the words. Ah, denial. Wonderful. He'd almost worried it might be something productive and he'd be at a loss for having missed it, but Billy was just being an asshole about it. Steve coughed, choked a little and spit to clear the last of his mouth - bile, but also blood and the lingering taste of whatever the bandana he'd worn hadn't blocked from the tunnels, before using the grip he somehow still had on the bat to help push himself back to his feet. At least he'd missed the car.

ㅤGetting sick was definitely why he was extra unsteady on his feet, but he was having a hard time denying the panic, the fear, the dread that had descended among the anger. He didn't know what to think, what to feel about all of this. It was overwhelming and he was absolutely not in a state to fucking deal right then, but eye contact brought him right back to how fucking blue Billy Hargrove's eyes were, a color like he'd never seen before, and he wavered again. "This can't be fucking happening," he muttered, running a hand through his hair gingerly and wincing at the way it was matted with blood and dirt. God, he was absolutely disgusting, and that was easier to think about than the fact that he'd just found his soulmate.

ㅤThat he'd just been beaten unconscious by his soulmate, by Billy Fucking Hargrove, of all people. How was that even possible?

[assortedvillainvault]

Hello! I saw your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could write some headcanons either for Hector Barbossa or Davy Jones. I recently rewatched PotC and somehow fell for both of them <3 I can't really decide between them though, so I'll leave the choice to you for which of them you want to write (of course you can also do both but I don't want to ask for too much)

For the scenario I don't have anything specific in mind, I'd appreciate any cute fluff honestly. If you want some kind of guideline, maybe something along the lines "how they express their love for their s/o" (the reader can be female or gender-neutral), but if you have a different idea feel free to write that instead^^

I'd be happy if you can make something from my request :D

I am. SO sorry for how long it has taken for me to get to this request - thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy some quality fluff for these crusty old men:

(I tend to write any x Readers as gender neutral by default)

Barbossa X Reader Fluff Headcannons

Barbossa, for all his grandeur and posturing, doesn't actually want you to be the meek pushover kind of partner.

He's an unrepentant drama queen with a childish streak and a love of games. If anything, what he wants is a partner with enough gumption to meet his antics head on.

AKA he wants to argue with you enough that you steal his hat, run around his cabin with him in hot pursuit and then snog under the stars once he catches you. Yknow. #JustCaptainThings

He's going to be dramatic 24/7. It's just his nature at this point. You can't change it. Jack is insane, Norrington is noble, Jones has a pout strong enough to put the sea itself on the housing market and Barbossa is waxing lyrical at the wheel while you turn a spectacular shade of red and the crew desperately avoids eye contact.

You're getting draped in the spoils of the pirate hoard whether you want it or not. Just waking up absolutely draped in pearls and jewels while he parses the rest of the stash for the right shade of silk to match your eyes.

He's a touchy guy. Wants you close by at all times if not all but draped over him. Will not hesitate to pull you into his lap. Get comfy.

If somebody has to gall to disrespect you he has two modes:

1. You deal with the offender yourself while he watches from the top railing - all but hollering 'That be my WIFE/HUSBAND/PARTNER!' and yeeting the nearest hat into the ocean as you break your assailants noses.

2. You're overpowered and he strides in with a spitting fury, pistols smoking as the offenders drop like bloody flies. 'That-' he seeths, sword drawn and held to quivering throats, '-be my Wife/Husband/Partner you mangy disgrace of a half-drunken curr.'

If Jack so much as blinks fliratiously at you Barbossa won't peel himself from your side for over a week.

Davy Jones X Reader Fluff Headcannons

It's barely noticable, the fact that you're together.

You can't blame him for keeping his distance and reputation up around the crew, his last disastrous attempt at love was quite literally the stuff of legend after all.

In private however, it's different.

He's getting more and more comfortable with letting you touch him - running gentle hands over coral growths, crab claw and eventually, his beard. Letting your facination and awe chip away at centuries of self loathing bit by bit.

He has a harsh exterior but the moments of softness, when they happen, steal your breath enough that you seriously reconsider that cutting his heart out dulled his feelings in any way.

He's teaching you how to navigate. Both via maps and by the stars. It always ends up more as cuddling and quiet conversation.

While you're on deck, Maccus (the Hammerhead shark first mate) will sometimes order you to the captains cabin. These orders aren't from Jones, who Maccus knows will avoid help until the sea boils into mist, but becuase the first mate has already recognised that you're good for eachother and he's sick of his Captain wallowing in self pity.

Maccus knows exactly what's going on between you two and is just praying that you hurry up and kiss in front of the crew already so he can stop covering for you both. A+ wingman first mate, honestly.

Over time, Jones's organ playing stops being endless renditions of Calypso's song and his theme for the Kracken, and instead shift to a new tune, one you and the crew are unfamiliar with.

It takes you weeks before you realise the halting notes and muttered scribbling is him composing you a song.

The first time the clear, bellowing notes of the organ boom out over the sea for you is the first time you see him smile to himself without a shred of malice and your hearth does a backflip - becuase That is the expression you vowed to bring about as much as humanly possible.

If you're apart, then letters. So many letters. Letters in little bottles, letter tied to floatring barrels, letters in bottles carried by octopi becuase the Kracken commands many tiny minions, letters that are smudged and spotty and full of love he can never seem to express in person. You send yours back the same way and they're guaranteed to reach him, no matter where the Dutchman is.

[butnotbeacuseweregay]

Extra! Extra! Part 1/??

Being a newise is fun and all but y/n longs for a life of adventer, and thats axactly what they get when they catch the eye of a certain jet boy

Part 2! Part 3! Part 4!

Being a newsie wasn't all bad, I mean sure summer stinks and winters freezing but that's what you get when you work outdoors. One thing that wasn't fun was waking up, sure you can say that with any  job but being a newsie comes with no sleep, like at all. You are either woken up by the jets and sharks fighting, or even your fellow newsies. So when you finally get to sleep, the morning bell is sure to ruin that for you

“Hey that's my cigar”

“You'll steal another”

Great Race and Albert are fighting again, he should know by now Race is VERY protective of his cigars. 

I put on my cap and make my way down the stairs to the next floor of scaffolding.

“Hey looks its bath time at the zoo”

Specs says clearly taking a jab at my messy appearance.

“I thought that i'd surprise my mother”

I say playing along with the joke

“If you can find her”

Ouch.

“Who asked you?!”

All the newsies are quick to defend me, they know what happened to my old folks, both disappeared, I don't know how, if they are dead or alive, or if they just got sick of me, yeah…that's most likely what happened.

“Papes ain’t movin’ like they used    to.I need a new sellin’ spot.Got any ideas?”

Albert asks me. I'm one of the best there is at selling papes, I just lie, it's as simple as that, and i've never had a problem , for they prime age of 10 iv been making up headlines and pickpocketing strangers to feed myself, i always dreamed id get somewhere else, like Santa Fe, that's  apparently i have family there, that would be nice, to be surrounded by people who loves you no matter what, no matter your mistakes

“From Bottle ally to the Harbor these easy picking garented”

I advise him 

“Try any banker bum or barber”

“They almost all know how to read!”

Flinch adds.

“Newsies of New York!”

I hear cheering and shouting, iv always been their leader of sorts, i mean i have been doing this the longest.

“Let's sell some papes!

And I'm the best

Later that day (still y/ns pov)

"Extra! Extra!.. ughh terrifying from burning inferno you heard it right here

Thank you sir"

I take of my hat to my my gratitude, I suppose tha wasn't a lie, I was grateful, but I'm sure I'll get a mouthfuls tommorow when he finds our there was no terrifying inferno, it just the trolly strike entering there 3rd week. Also the worst business has been ever since the trolly strike started. At first it was grate. I was earning enough to feed myself probably and have enough to by extra papes in the morning but know people just want to know if they can get the tram or not, they don't care why.

"Exuse me?"

I spin my body round to be greeted by a boy, can't be much older than me, he's wearing a white tank top with long cuffed jeans, he had a pretty face, but I have learned to never judge a book by its cover, especially in New York.

"You don't have any more papers for today?"

Seriously? I just had to lie and lie all day to sell papes and now, when I'm all out of papes someone acully wants one, just my luck.

"No sorry just sold my last one"

I begin to walk away when the boy suddenly picked up

"Riff"

"Your that Jet boy?"

I reply surprised,Iv heard people talk about him, say away from Riff the protreicans say, he's noithing but trouble, however the Jets speak of him likes he's he's God, always know what to do Riff they say, never makes the wrong call. However I I expect him to look.. like this.

"Y'know when someone gives you your name your supposed to reply with yours"

"Really"

He hums, as if waiting for my response in hell I'm going to give my name to a random jet boy I have never met, well haven't known for more than a minute.

"My friends call me Boots"

"Ah so I'm ya friend now"

"No jet boy, take the message and piss of"

He raises his arms in defence a wakes of, not however befor yelling back at me.

"I'll be expecting tommorows paper!"

"If you play for it it's yours jet boy!"

With that he walked of, I cant gelp bur get butterflies, he wad sweet, no ,no he wanst he's Riff, he's no good for me.

That was probably the worst lie iv told myself

A/N

Sorry this is so short next update will be linger though but I might take a while to come out sorry 🙁

[mischiefsemimanaged]

A Rough Morning

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warnings: Periods, injury mention, a load of badly written fluff

Words: 861

a/n: This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever done. It's been a rough month, filled with procedures, sickness, and a car accident. All I wanted when on my period, was someone to cuddle with. And thus, this was born. It is not good, but maybe it'll be comforting to someone else.

:readmore:

Dividers from @firefly-in-darkness

There was nothing worse than waking up in a cold bed alone. At least, that was how you felt today. You woke up without Steve in your bed and all the man did was leave a note. You had asked him time and time again to wake you up when he had to go on missions late at night, but he never listened. He insisted that you looked so peaceful sleeping. Normally this wouldn't bother you (for longer than a few minutes, that is) but this wasn't a normal day.

It was shark week, hell week, Aunt Flo's visit. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was awful and all you wanted was to cuddle up to Steve. The serum increased his metabolism, which meant that he ran hot. So when he was there, he was your own personal heating pad. But alas, Steve was not here, leaving you to find a real heating pad, and maybe some chocolate.

Groaning as a cramp ripped through your lower abdomen, you rolled out of bed. Heading into the bathroom, you turned on the shower, hot. After a solid half an hour sitting under the warm water (and mentally reminding yourself to thank Tony for the amazing shower you had), you got out and set about getting a pad and your comfiest jammies, which happened to be Steve's stolen t-shirt and your sweatpants.

Content for the moment, you ventured out of your room and into the kitchen. There, you retrieved a large mug of hot chocolate, securely contained in your Captain America mug that you only had to bother Steve, and a heating pad before getting comfortable on the couch, intending to watch a load of terrible rom-coms.

Settling down, you turned on the tv. The news channel appeared. Across the screen, images showing an intense fight were displayed. You could see Steve get hit by some weird robot. He got up again, but you could see blood running down your face.

On a normal day, while you wouldn't be happy about seeing Steve hurt, you knew he'd be fine.

But today, your hormones caused your emotions to run high. You were already tense from Steve not being there to cuddle with, an injury just sent you over the edge. Tears started streaming down your face, and you missed the note at the top of the screen that read "previously recorded."

Shutting the tv off to prevent further anxiety, you curled up on the couch, stress eating a load of chocolate, and waited for Steve to return. At some point, you fell back asleep.

After a long debrief and a quick shower to get rid of the blood on his face. Steve was on the way back to their rooms. He knew y/n wouldn't be happy with him for leaving without telling her, but it was 2 o'clock in the morning! While that was a good enough reason for him, it definitely would not be for her.

So, to make up for it, he had a box of her favorite beignets. Y/n always wanted them, but she complained that they had too many calories and that they would add too many pounds to her. Steve always disagreed, she was perfect, and always would be, but she was serious.

Though, every once in a while, Steve would buy a box as a surprise for her. Once they were in their rooms, Y/n couldn't resist (and it didn't hurt that Steve liked them too.)

Opening the door with one hand, while trying to balance the box in the other, he stepped in. It was dead quiet, which was odd, usually, Y/n would be awake by now, working on a project for her job, or going about her daily routine.

Steve set the box on the kitchen counter, near the entrance to their rooms and walked in further. Quickly, he found Y/n asleep on the couch, tear tracks staining her face.

Concern immediately rose in Steve, Y/n wasn't a crier, something was wrong. Stepping closer, he saw the heating pad on her stomach, the light blinking to indicate it had been on too long. There was a box of chocolate truffles next to her too.

"Crap."

He quickly put together that it was that time of the month. He always liked to be there for Y/n, her cycle was rough on her. And if he couldn't be there, he at least liked to warn her.

Gently, he picked her up and settled back down. In her sleep, Y/n nestled closer to him, the warmth comforting. Settling his hand on her lower stomach, Steve allowed sleep to overtake him too.

Waking up, you felt much better. You were warm, and your cramps weren't nearly as bad as they had been that morning.

Blinking your eyes as you adjusted to the brightness of the sun streaming in, you realized you were on Steve.

You shifted a bit, looking at his face where you had seen the blood earlier. Now, there was barely a scratch, his healing abilities at work. Content with Steve back with you, you closed your eyes again and allowed a much more calm sleep to overtake you.

[oliver-dash]

Prey || Oliver+Laya

The night that Z had been attacked in the bathroom of that horrible nightclub, the one that Oliver had never wanted to go to in the first place, had changed the trajectory of all their lives forever.

Finding the girl on the bathroom floor, ashen and limp, bleeding and bruised, Oliver had panicked, scooping her into his arms and running for his car. But not even half way to the emergency room, she had popped up in the backseat, scaring the piss out of poor Jaime, and looked just fine. They couldn’t make sense of it, of what the hell had happened, but she was fine. So they took her home.

Over the next week or so, Z began to fall ill. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, didn’t want to leave the house, open her blinds anything.

Oliver had stayed with her, scared for his friend and trying to make sense of everything - he’d been back from Afghanistan for a few months now, could use his prosthetic just fine, was excelling in physical therapy. It made him happy to focus his attention on someone else.

But then he had cut his finger - not a huge cut, just enough to make him hiss sharply, enough that the blood was immediately dripping onto the granite counter top.

The fight that had followed had terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Z had sprinted at him with a speed he’d never seen a human possess, had literally thrown Jocelyn out of her way, and tackled Oliver into the counter hard enough to knock the breath from him.

She’d been snarling like a wild animal, her eyes wide, pupils blow. She was strong, way too damn strong.

Jaime had rushed forth, trying to grab her and pull her off of him, Oliver managing to grab her by her hair and jerk her off, all the while, a chorus of, “What the fuck?!“ leaving his lips, unsure what else to say.

The three managed to pin her down, the dark-skinned girl screeching and fighting like her lift depended on it.

Oliver saw the fangs. He felt cold when he saw them, sick, like time had slowed to a stop. Because this wasn’t real, right?

But then she was desperately licking his blood off the tile floor, begging for more.

Oliver, to the others absolute shock, walked over to where the small prep bowls lied, grabbing the shark knife, and cut his finger once again, letting the blood stream into the bowl.

Jaime and Jocelyn had both been screaming at him, demanding to know what was happening, what he was doing. But Z had stopped, watching him with wide eyes, salivating.

He’d brought her the bowl, wrapping the cut in a dish rag, and watched as she drank from the bowl, licking out every last drop.

“More.” She had pleaded, looking up at him with a desperation he had seen before, though it normally came from a needle.

“I can’t right now.” He had said it so softly, so sadly, his mind spinning, thinking this had to be some fucked up nightmare. “I will again soon. I promise.”

With that in her system, she seemed to collect herself and broke down into sobs, wailing and telling him again and again how sorry she was.

Z had told him the truth then - the men in the bathroom at the club, how they’d grabbed her and she thought they were trying to sexually assault her. But then one had opened his mouth, she’d watched as fangs slid from his gums, and then they were buried deep into her neck.

“I think they thought I was dead.”

Itd been a lot, too much, and Oliver still wasn’t sure he believed all of it to be true. Because… fucking vampires?

But no. It was there. Internet searches turning up about bodies - mostly women - found exsanguinated with no explanation. There were animals. Children.

Oliver had felt a rage inside of him then and had gone back to that nightclub every night for two weeks, weapons stored away, waiting to find the men who had attacked Z.

He’d found them eventually, hearing a woman crying out for help.

The resulting fight had fucked him up a good bit, but it turned out that these men went down like most others - a sharp blade to the carotid and they were down.

It became a mission after that, tracking leads with Jamie, finding these creatures, killing them before they could hurt others. Oliver got damn good at it too, he found the best methods were fire and decapitation. He built his arsenal and found a purpose.

All the while, Jamie was stealing blood from the hospital for Z and, when those supplies ran low, they took turns making small cuts and allowing her to feed from them.

Luckily, vampires were just as dumb and horny as their human counterparts. A catfish account of a pretty brunette with ample cleavage and Jamie managed to find a website for these monsters where they talked about the easiest ways of getting their meals.

Oliver’s efforts really amped up then. But the bodies weren’t being reported - either no one missed them or autopsies proved something wasn’t quite right. Either way, Oliver was in the clear.

Wrapping bandages around the newest cut in his calf, the blonde covered in thin, pale scars, Oliver looked over Jamie’s shoulder as he worked.

“You find another one?”

“Yes.” He said, scribbling down notes. “A woman. She claims she meets willing participants.”

“Fat chance.” Oliver grumbled. “Who agrees to that shit?”

“I mean…” Jaime motioned toward his wrapped leg.

“This is different.” He grumbled, beginning to pack up his items. “Where is she?”

“Oliver. Just…” Jamie sighed, wanting to tell him yet again that he needed to stop, that he was going to get himself killed. He stopped himself then, reading off the location. “Just investigate. Ask questions first, you know?”

“We’ll see.”

@ofsorceryandfire

[husbandograveyard]

Why I am less active ~ again ~

Cw: mental health // selfshipping // spoilers [One Piece]

Might delete this later, but I am having a moment and I honestly do not know where else to post this without coming across as annoying or weird or whatever.

Please DO NOT REBLOG.

So, it's been an emotional week or two, I have been sick because of sleep deprivation on top of it all and I am pretty sure shark week is coming up, so I am being an emotional mess right now. I won't bother y'all with the details, cause frankly, they don't matter. But I can feel my mental health just spiraling down and I have no way to stop it. It'll soon be the summer holiday, and hopefully I will have some time to recuperate.

Anyway, that's not what it is about here. This is about the most recent OP chapter leaks, altho by now it might actually be out (idk, I usually actually don't follow the manga *this* closely). If you're not there and you don't want to be spoiled then please consider this your final warning to stop reading.

So, in the final chapter Ashura and Izo died. Now... I have not been following super closely, and I am not even sure why I checked the spoilers earlier. I know it's fictional characters, trust me, I am 10000% aware. And yet. Izo's death has hit me a little harder than I expected.

For the past 2 years, he's been my main comfort character and I was actively selfshipping with him. Not so much on Tumblr because I am too self-aware and insecure to throw it out in the open like that, but on discord, among friends, and in some little writings that I never shared up here.

Selfshipping has been a great comfort while I figure out what is wrong with me mental health wise. It's been a great tool to figure out what I look for IRL relationships, hell it's been a help figuring out my sexuality, all in a safe online environment, helping me reflect on the real life that's not online. It's been a great comfort whenever I feel insecure, a source of humor to look back onto on bad days, just a very nice coping mechanism for when the depresso hits hard.

It's nothing new that a comfort character dies, it's almost a running meme that 90% of my comfort characters don't make the end of whatever medium they're part of and usually I handle it pretty well. An emotional reaction at the moment I see/read/hear it happen, and maybe some exaggerated online outrage, then some memes and acceptance, 5 stages of grief, but make it funny kinda thing.

But for some reason, this hit super hard? Be it hormones, depression, the fact that my real life is having some struggles at the moment... it just was the figurative drop that made the bucket spill (is that how you say it in English?) and I have been crying some real human tears over non real characters.

I had planned a tiny break while being on weekend with my students and wanted to get back to writing (especially for the summer event and OP bingo) the moment I got home. Instead I kinda got teary eyed and shut my laptop again. My head just fills with Angsty thoughts, and while those are all fun and games whenever I am in a good place, now is not the moment for it. So I am taking a little break again, I am extremely sorry.

I *will* get over it, and will do what any other fanfic writer does in situations like this: ignore canon and move on. But for now it kinda hurts and I feel silly even admitting to it.

Anyway. I just needed to let that out, writing down my feelings is somewhat cathartic and I am running out of tissues, so I had to try something else. I am not even sure if many people will read this because my range has been a little less again lately, but I just had to get it off my chest? Sorry for making you read this entire rambling wall of text if you're still reading. I am not even sure if I am making any sense at all.

Signing off with loads of love, and drink a lot of water, be gentle for yourself, it's what I am doing rn as well. ♡

Love, Hazel

Ps: please don't reblog, invalidate my feelings cause the characters are not real or if you don't like selfshipping. Anything negative said, I'll just block.

[nowhereisnearmyhome]

Lay It Down, Clowns! The Beastie Boys Take Over? By Chuck Eddy // CREEM May 1987

Article Transcript Under The Cut

“They took the doors off their hinges and moved them around. They flooded two floors with the fire hoses. They plugged up the toilets and destroyed the furniture. They terrorized the other guests. They were just having fun.”

-Stephen Davis, Hammer Of The Gods, 1985

At 32 minutes past two the morning of 16 January 1987, two Beastie Boys broke into my West Hollywood hotel room and dumped a wastebasketfull of extremely wet water on my head, my bed, the carpeting and my Converse All-Stars. (I’d stupidly left the chain-lock unsecured, and I suppose they bribed the night clerk into giving them a key.) Earlier that evening, after Pee-Wee Herman had visited their dressing room before they appeared on Joan Rivers’s show, the Beasties were tossing parsley at me, dropping ice cubes in my hair, and “dissin’“ (graffiti-artist lingo for “saying bad things about”) my brown socks and flannel shirt. I interpreted all of this to mean that they did not like me.

But I didn’t feel alone. Just days before, they’d been evicted from the Sunset Marquis for throwing chairs out their window into the swimming pool. And that week, they’d also become the first group ever to be censored on American Bandstand--Dick Clark, who’d put up with Johnnies Rotten and Lydon in past episodes, apparently determined Adrock’s mid-song crotch-grab was just too much. The Beasties had previously been awarded a lifetime ban from the Holiday Inn chain after they’d cut a hole in the floor of one suite to serve as a passage-way to the one directly below; they’d been banned form CBS Records headquarters after allegedly ripping of a camera at a label party. And MCA brags that he punched a Bay Area Music interviewer in the face not too long ago. These guys are total jerks, and they’ve got the fastest-selling debut album in CBS history.

MCA, real name Adam Yauch, says he’s skimmed through Hammer Of The Gods, a book that depicts Led Zeppelin’s early career as one massive Satanic orgy, complete with fishing for sharks out hotel windows and sicking the prize catches on baked-bean-marinated groupies. “It happens that we are living up to that reputation, but it’s not intentional,” MCA tells me. “We respect what they did. They were the only band that never buckled under to their label, and they sold more records than anybody.” Beastie Mike D, whose stage title is shortened from Michael Diamond, is wearing a House Of The Holy T-shirt. The first noises you hear on the Boys’ Licensed To Ill album are John Bonham’s drums, lifted from Zep’s mega-swing classic “When The Levee Breaks.” I ask Mike D what his favorite LP of 1986 was, and he answers Led Zeppelin IV.

“There’s a feeling I get When I look to the West And my spirit is crying for leaving... Made up my mind To make a new start Goin’ to California With an achin’ in my heart.”

-Page & Plant, Zep IV, 1971

Upon arriving in Los Angeles to meet the most famous Caucasian rap trio in the history of Western Civilization, I found that their record company had send a limousine to the airport to pick me up. I’m talking one of those huge black ones where the celebrities can look out but the peons can’t look in, and of course I’d never even touched one before, and I thought it was obscene. The driver gave me the scenic route down Sunset Boulevard, and he pointed out Rod Stewart’s and Englebert Humperdinck’s abodes, and we passed U.C.L.A. The driver showed me this monument made of four white columns at the top of a small hill. He said Al Jolson was buried there.

Like Gigolo Al, and like Bob Wills and Elvis Presley and the Rolling Stones and the disco Bee Gees as well, the Beastie Boys are white people making what is supposed to be black music. Like Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, who wrote all the Coasters’ hit and whose “Girls, Girls, Girls” MCA claims did not influence the group’s very similar “Girls,” and like the Dictators, whose Go Girl Crazy anticipated punk and whose White Castle infatuation MCA claims had no effect on his crew’s own sliders-by-the-bag fetish, the Beasties are young middle-class Jewish males chronicling the dilemma of urban-American teen hooligancy. Or rather, in the Beastie Boys’ case, half-Jewish: “Purely coincidentally, we each had one Jewish parent,” explains MCA. Adrock and Mike D, now 17 and 19 years old respectively, grew up in Manhattan; MCA, 20, comes from Brooklyn Heights. MCA and Mike D “have been friends forever and were boys togher,” MCA says; Adrock, a.k.a. Adam Horvitz, met the other two in junior high school. Noted playwright Israel Horvitz, Adrock’s dad, left home when the Beastie was a baby. MCA’s first criminal act was setting a print shop on fire.

“All the kids from our high school listened to Deep Purple, crap like that,” Mike D says. “When you see that shit it doesn’t make you want to go out and play it.” Yauch, Horvitz, and Diamond opted for the (then) unpopular alternative, dying their hair orange or shaving it off, checking out the Stimulators and Sham 69 at New York Clubs, and eventually starting their own hardcore squads. “Everyone we knew was in a band,” Mike D says. “That’s what was cool about punk.” The original Beastie Boys comprised Yauch, Diamond, and two more; Horvitz’s band, The Young & The Useless, would open shows. Eventually, the combos merged. After releasing the 7-inch Polly Wog Stew EP on the Rat Cage Label in 1982, lured by a Gotham rap subculture that seemed to parallel punk in the do-it-yourself-music department, the Boys decided to expand their horizons.

“We went into the studio and recorded 10 songs, and we did the song ‘Cookie Puss’ as a joke,” MCA remembers. “We were making fun of Malcolm McLaren, and the whole downtown art scene that was exploiting hip-hop.” A poor mix caused eight tunes to be shelved, but “Cookie Puss” came out as a 12-inch single, backed with a rasta-toasting/Musical Youth parody called “Beastie Revolution.” The A-side was a seemingly sexist and racist stylus-scratch rendering of a pornographic phone call to an icecream sandwich store, and it turned out to be 1983′s funniest novelty record. Rick Rubin, a club disc jockey whose band, Hose, did grunge-metal versions of Ohio Players and Rick James numbers, heard the disc and liked it. Beastie gigs gradually evolved from “a lot of new wave Wild-style Burner-Style music with the turntable next to the drum riser” (sez MCA) to all-the-way-live rap, and Rubin produced 1985′s awesome “Rock Hard”/”Party’s Gettin’ Rough”/”Beastie Groove” EP. The record kidnapped sections outright from AC/DC’s “Back In Black” and Zep’s “Black Dog.” The Beasties chanted, “I’m a man who needs no introduction/Got a big tool of reproduction.”

Furthering their ironman-funk synthesis on the “Soundtrack From The Video She’s On It” single, and helped along by a distribution deal Rubin’s Def Jam Records had established with CBS, the trio burst onto MTV in late ‘85. A year later, after a summer of opening for the suddenly huge Rubin-produced Run-D.M.C., the Beasties were bonafide stars; within six weeks of its release, Licensed To Ill had already sold over a million copies, and was kicking its way up the Top 20. If you go to high school or live in a college dorm, you most likely know the thing backwards and forwards by now. Licensed To Ill has pushed rap into the whitest corridors of America’s heartland, and (along with D.M.C., Metallica, and the Rubin-produced Slayer) has made the future safe for dangerous teenage music, a form that seemed to have died. CBS, concentrating on Bruce S. and Michael J., has an unexpected blockbuster on its hands. And the Beastie Boys are playing their 15 minutes of fame to the hilt. “Five years from now I might be selling used cards on the lot,” MCA says. “I really don’t give a fuck, ‘cause I’m having so much fun now.”

For example: I’m at the hotel, as are members of the Beastie entourage, which consists of Sean, their hepcat British manager, Hurricane, a brawny deejay who carries a lot of gold junk around his neck, Cey, who has known the Beasties since childhood and now serves as roadie and astrologer and all-around nice guy, and Eloise, an overweight go-go dancer who’s supposed to look “sexy” when she strips down to her black lace, I guess, but mostly just comes off as gruesome. The Beasties aren’t there, and the limo driver says it’s time to leave for the Rivers Show. All of a sudden this luxury machine burns rubber around the corner, just missing the limo, and skids to a halt in front of the hotel gate. MCA jumps out and runs inside, and Adrock takes the wheel even though he’s never driven a stick-shift before. MCA’s done doing what he was doing, and the treacherous three are ready to go now, but they’re not riding in the limo; they’ve just rented a Town Car after getting bored with a Ferrari and a Roll, and they don’t want their dollars to go to waste. “We three ride in the front, you in the back,” Mike D tells me. “That’s the rule.”

The limousine goes first, and we follow. The auto I’m in is manned by derelicts: MCA’s wearing a wrinkled long-sleeve white button-down, a black leather jacket, and a five o’clock (or five day, maybe) beard-shadow; Adrock has on an “Applachian Basketball Camp” shirt, a red Texaco baseball cap and a light-blue windbreaker; Mike D, skinnier and nerdier-looking than his cohorts, has a gold Volkswagen pendant, black horned-rim glasses, and an earring. Their jeans have holes, their Nikes lack laces (some new fad, I think), and I’m no queer but i know that these are not the prettiest men I’ve ever seen. Anyway, we’re chasing the limo, and Metallica’s “Battery” is blasting from our tapedeck, and the dudes in front of me are banging heads toward the windshield as if they constituted one orgasm. They release their seatbacks so they can ride horizontally, they “accidentally” bump bumpers with the limo a few times, they shout catcalls at the usual feminine suspects. (”Before we were successful we used to stand on the streetcorner and yell at girls,” Mike D later informs Joan Rivers. “Now we can sit in a Ferrari and do it, and it’s a lot more effective.”) And the doo-wop along with the cassette, which plays the Coasters, Elvis, Roxanne Shante, Marvin Gay, ? & The Mysterians, Stevie Wonder and -- as a tribute to their adolescent homeboys, I gather -- Deep Purple.

“It becomes hard to remember that ‘Smoke On The Water’ was never a good song and was barely a good joke -- and even harder to remember that old bromide about what happens to those who don’t learn from the past.”

-Mark Moses, Boston Phoenix, 30 Dec. 1986

Aloof in our land is disillusionment like has not been seen since the Watergate years. For the generation weaned on Danny Bonaduce, awakened by Haldeman and Erlichman and Dean, and enlightened by punk and its progeny, this disillusionment casts doubt and cynicism on not only our leaders, but on the mass media that simulate our national mood. Be a sourpuss and call it premature nostalgia if you need to, but the current interest in early ‘70s rock is no retreat; fact is, punk promised more and then failed more miserably than any other rock ‘n’ roll ever has, When Redd Kross covers Kiss, when “Walk This Way” goes Top 10, when the Golden Palominos hire Jack Bruce, it’s no retreat -- rather, it’s a necessary return to unfinished business. If the Sex Pistols had never happened, we’d probably be better off than we are now. And if the Beastie Boys don’t come right out and say this, their record certainly implies it: To me, the most amazing things about Licensed To Ill’s success is the youth of its audience. That children of the ‘80s are buying it proves how universal its ideas are. Because to get all the details, you have to be a child of the ‘70s.

As I’ve said, Bonzo slapping his drum-kit kicks off the thing. But before the vinyl’s been exhausted, we’ve also heard musical or verbal snippets from Black Sabbath’s “Sweet Leaf,” Zep’s “The Ocean,” War’s “Low Rider,” Steve Miller’s “Fly Like An Eagle” and “Take The Money And Run” (plus they did a cool impromptu a capella “Joker” during the Joan Rivers rehearsals), Brownsville Station’s “Smokin’ In The Boys Room,” Aerosmith’s “No More No More,” Creedence’s “Down On The Corner,” and some Barry White tune whose title eludes me. It’s no accident that the record starts with a song called “Rhymin’ and Stealin’“ -- the ouvres of Bill Haley and Bobby Fuller and Kurtis Blow and Schoolly-D are plundered, too. But Licensed To Ill isn’t just about creative in-joke robbery; if it was, it wouldn’t be worth much. All those borrowed bits and pieces are used to make connections, to outline the perimeters of the youth culture on which the Beasties’ B-boy-brat stance depends. When I asked MCA about the lyrics “sit around the house, get high and watch the tube,” he answered, “We’re not using it because it’s in a Steve Miller song. We’re using it because it’s a good line.”

So in the long run, what makes Licensed To Ill a great album -- one of the best of the last year, and one of a mere handful of listenable recent ones on major labels -- is that it’s got great songs. First off, they sound great; Rubin is one of the few current producers who refuse to sell out rhythm to disco-syndrum water-torture monotony, and this album’s got his biggest beats ever. With him, the Beasties could get by on their cockiness alone. But what I really mean by great songs is great songwriting, by which I just mean common sense. Wiffle-ball bats and swirlies and Phyllis Diller and Kentucky Fried Chicken and Budweiser and Rice-a-Roni and angel dust are things we live with in this world, and sometimes even things we talk about in real life, but I’ll be damned if anybody else has ever written songs about them, and even if somebody has, they never wrote a couplet as unpretentiously jocular as “My pistol is loaded, I shot Betty Crocker/Deliver Colonel Sanders down to Davy Jones’ locker” or “Went to the prom, bought a fly blue rental/Got six girlies in my Lincoln Continental.” It’s all about specificity, I reckon. And when the words fall together into a fantastic delinquent anthem like “Fight For Your Right (To Party)” or a fantastic rock star rave-up like “No Sleep Till Brooklyn” (with glaciated guitar from Slayer’s Kerry King) or a fantastic ghetto-gangster boast like “The New Style,” I just can’t figure out why a person would resist. If being “offended” is what bugs you, you don’t love rock ‘n’ roll.

“When I woke up late in the afternoon She’d taken all the things from inside of my room I found myself naked in the middle of the floor She had taken the bed, and the chest of doors The mirror, the TV, the new guitar chords My remote control and my old skateboard She robbed us blind, she took all we own And the boys blamed me for bringing her home.”

-Beastie Boys, “She’s Crafty,” 1986

There will always be party-poopers whose knees jerk whenever rap is mentioned; it takes no “talent,” they say, anybody could do it. For all I know they’re right, but I don’t think it matters -- if punk should have taught us anything, it’s that rock is the property of ordinary people, not supergeniuses. it’s not what somebody “could” do that’s important; it’s what they do do. And though when I listen to Licensed To Ill I wonder why, nobody has ever accomplished what the Beasties accomplish here. I’m nevertheless more cynical about hip-hop than they are -- to my ears it peaked around 1982, and (save for a couple of big acts who have transcended the form) it’s mainly devolved into cliche- recapitulation, best exemplified by all those “Roxanne, Roxanne” answer-records and television theme mastermixes. According to the Beasties, if I lived in New York -- where “you hear it in the clubs and you hear it on the boxes in the streets,” Adrock says -- I’d think differently. “There’s more copycat heavy metal than copycat rap,” MCA opines, hitting me in my soft spot. “We hereby challenge Bon Jovi to an MC contest,” taunts Mike D.

To be fair to those still skeptical about this stuff, I thought the Beastie Boys were less than brilliant live -- reminded me more of a highschool talent show than a rock gig, and all the somersaults and funky chickens and spastic tics didn’t conceal the fact that they dance even worse than Madonna, who they toured the country with in ‘85 and were scheduled to eat dinner with the evening after they doused my bed. Of course, the Rivers show may have been an atypical performance; “they told us if we f-- up one more time on live TV, we’re done,” Mike D had related earlier. Maybe they were toned down, or maybe they were over-rehearsed, or maybe I just haven’t seen enough rap shows to know what it is I’m supposed to watch when all that’s on stage is a turn-table and three kids with microphones. The interview with Joan was certainly entertaining -- MCA sat in her chair, Adrock sat on her desk, and Mike D next to her with his arm around her; they gave her an apple with a bite taken out, and told her they were working on a concerto at Julliard. When we’d walked into her studio that afternoon, we’d seen a picture of Run-D.M.C. on the wall between Dr. Ruth Westheimer and Vincent Price, so perhaps Joan digs this bugaloo thang enough to invite the Boys back. Don’t know whether she appreciated the Extended Sexual Orgasm book they presented her and her hubbie backstage at the end of the night, though.

Well, you can’t claim good fortune has spoiled these guys -- from what I hear, they’ve always been like this. But they say they enjoy the fame, even if it means meeting dimwits like Dweezil Zappa, and even though they have to put up with fools who ask them whether they’re actually black. “When my mom first heard (the album) she said it sounded like it would be real successful,” MCA says, and I expect an A&R department to give her a call any day now. The Beasties have run into a brick wall or two -- Michael Jackson, who owns the Beatles’ catalog, refused to grant them permission to include their surf-guitar/doo-wop version of “I’m Down” on the LP; an intended non-LP B-side called “The Scenario,” a murder story that the group calls their best song, proved too graphic for CBS; the label also advised (but didn’t demand) the Beasties not to call their album Don’t Be A Faggot, which was its working title. But the threesome is mostly satisfied with the freedom they’ve been granted, and they realize it’s a rare thing in the age of Tipper Gore and Muzak Top 40. Says MCA: “The unique thing about the Def Jam deal is that we get the power to do what we want to do.”

The group expects to contribute “The Scenario” to a film soundtrack in the future; another unreleased cut, “Desperado,” will be included in Rubin’s Tougher Than Leather flick, due for release this year. Meanwhile, the Beasties are barnstorming America’s auditoriums with funk-wavers Fishbone and laff-core phonies Murphy’s Law, spreading their decadent sex-and-drugs gospel to the initiated and uninitiated alike. (David Lee Roth asked them to open his tour’s concerts, but they wanted to headline this time.) After that, who knows? “I don’t know if we’ll die doing this,” MCA remarks. “And I don’t think we should disappoint our audience by letting them know what we’ve got planned.”

“When in doubt, I whip it out I got me rock ‘n’ roll band It’s a free-for-all”

-Ted Nugent, “Free For All,” 1976

[arcadejohn127-9]

Hi! This is my first time requesting so I dont know if this is correct but headcanons of the brothers if the MC asks if they have eaten human meat before?? You can ignore this if your uncomfortable with this, have a great day! :))

I only don't write certain triggering things like sewerslide, self ouchie and forced devils tango - I know these are very non serious ways to censor these sensative topics but I would like to avoid triggering anyone

I know some people just shut down just by hearing it or seeing the word and it's really unfortunate

So yes, I'll take your request!

Warning: food, blood, gore-ish?, eating, teeth, human consumption, hallucinations and angst

It was dinner; you were having a fatty steak with garlic bread and a creamy seasoned sauce that the meat was cooked in and chewy dough balls filled cheese. The brothers wanted a meat dish and it was your turn to cook so you got human world ingredients to give everyone what they wanted.

You weren't sure what was eating at you. For the past few days stress as been at an all time high! You've become irrationality emotional to every situation which didn't help as you were experiencing mini hallucinations and continuous tricks on the eyes.

You hoped cooking and getting your mind off whatever was happening around you would help but it seems to be a futile attempt.

You set the table, making sure to add extra vegetables for asmo and levi. As soon as dinner was announced all the boys came trampling through the halls to reach the table first, Beel beating them by already being at the door. He was waiting there feeling himself drool whilst you cooked. Once everyone was seated you smiled, taking your seat and began to eat.

Your appitete diminished the more you chew. Finding it to be unfufilling. Your stomach felt like a void and the food only made that feeling more present. You poked at your food with a growing frown.

You heard a fleshy squelch.your eyes flickering up to see Satan; his sharp teeth sinking into the steak. He easily ripped it apart letting any sauce from the meat drip down his chin. For most of the demons it was medium rare; blood mixing in with the sauce. You could still see pink on the inside. When he bit into it it looked so soft with left over blood forming at the bite.

It was so fleshy. For a moment the steak slice turned into an arm. Just a slice of human flesh; his fangs ripping into it as if it was nothing. Apart of your arm ached just from the sight.

You shook your head, rapidly blinking. You hesitantly looked back up and it faded back to normal. These kind of hallucinations were popping up more often; you were terrified. It was putting you off food because you couldn't stop seeing it as something disgusting.

Asmo raised his voice, a sound of a knife stabbing down on a plate following it. You looked to see he stabbed the space between Beels fingers as he tried to steal a dough ball. But that didn't stop him, curling a finger around it and quickly detracted his hand. His brother huffed chomping down his vegetables.

Your eyes couldn't leave Beels figure; it was as if you had to see what he was doing.

Once again your eyes focused on the teeth. Beels fangs were the biggest out of Everyone meanwhile Satan's were long and thin. Levi's teeth reminded you of a shark. Mammons were like a cat with the focus on his top fangs. Asmo's teeth were the most human, reminding you of a vampire. Lucifers teeth were like Satan's but not as long. Belphegor was similar to his twin brother.

Your tongue poked along your smooth teeth. A few bumps here and there and the little prick from your canines. It was nothing compared to them.

Time seemed to freeze as his teeth sank into the ball. It squished with the juices from the cheese and the sauce forming on the flesh- flesh? It wasn't flesh. No it was dough. You held back a scream when you saw an eye replace the dough ball. You immediately snapped away your gaze.

"(Y/N), You haven't been eating."

All of them looked at you. Noticing how little was eaten on your plate. You could see the concern on their faces but your brain slowed. The words leaving your mouth before you even realized it.

"Have any of you eaten a human before?"

The air became thick. It made you choke, a knot forming in your throat as you stared at your plate. Waiting for their answer. Hoping they'll answer. Why aren't they saying anything?!

"That's an unpleasant question, what's prompted this?"

You wanted to say you weren't sure but then memories flashed before your eyes. The threats you've gotten from Beel, asmo telling you're delicious after nipping your skin, mammons stomach suddenly growling after hiding his head in your skin. This what has been bothering you.

You were frightened - no terrified you were going to end up on this table. Striped and ready on a silver platter for them to dig in. Would they do it whilst your alive? Desiring to feel you squirm between their teeth or would they be merciful? Killing and cooking you. A Morbid part of you wished they made you into a good meal if they did that; to not let your body go to waste and mean nothing other than something to tear into.

You felt sick. Your stomach churning the more you thought but you couldn't shut off your brain.

"Just.....curious, you're demons afterall so I thought it would make sense."

All of them were uncomfortable. They knew what they've done in the past and some in the more recent times. But what is recent and past to beings who've forgotten time? Where procrastination could last centuries and no one would bat an eye. What was hundreds years for humans could feel like a week to them.

"I'm going to tell them-" Belphie piped in but immediately got shut down by his brothers.

"don't ya dare even utter another word, you can't frighten them like this-!"

"Are you crazy?! They're never going to want to be around me again!"

"Don't be disgusting, this shouldn't even be a topic we talk about right now!"

"Keep your damn mouth shut."

"You'll frighten them, they already look unwell."

"That's enough, all of you, you're not doing anything to soothe-"

"Would you eat me?!" You suddenly stood up, looking at all of them with an expression of fear and determination.

They just stared at you absolutely stunned by your question.

"No way! We wouldn't do such a thing to you! We care too much about ya to do something like!"

"so if I didn't mean anything would you eat me? Atleast give me some comfort and tell me you'd kill me before you did it-!"

But none of them could give you that comfort. They knew they eat it with their prey still crying and thrashing for their lives.

"You don't need to worry about such a thing, you're going to experience no harm from us or anyone in the Devildom, we've made sure of it."

You shook your head. "Just answer my questions! If you're innocent then you'll just be able to say no! So do it! Say no!"

"We've all eaten a human but since the exchange program was planned we were banned from doing it - we've lost the taste for human flesh or... atleast I have."

His eyes skimmed over his brothers faces, lingering on the ones he knows still hunger for it.

"I think I need to take a break from here....…just need to get away-"

Your voice trailed off, your vision becoming fuzzy. Their faces contorted and stretched into monstrous beings. You stumbled back before your eyes rolled back, your body falling to the floor.

"(Y/N)-!!!"

When you finally woke up you weren't in the house of lamentation. Simeon crouched beside you, placing a damp towel on your cheek. You whined at the cold feeling; it made your burning skin sting.

you weren't sure how or when you got here. The angel helped you slowly lay down, caressing your skin.

"It's okay, Solomon will be back soon, Diavolo said it'll be best you go back home for a little while, don't worry I'll be sure to visit."

You nodded, your head feeling like a sack of bricks balancing on your neck. You let your eyes close as Simon kept brushing the towel on your exposed skin. Humming an unfamiliar tune.

[g0ttal0ve101]

Vacation Headcanons

(Because I’m excited for mine!! It’s in two weeks!! 💃)

Adrien

“Four…shit. WHERE’S THE FIFTH CHILD?!”

Literally got roped into this by Thomas.

^ The babysitter for orphaned children, basically.

Paying for everything but thinks nothing of it because he’s rich asf.

Thinks of the children not by their names, but by numbers. That way he doesn’t mix them up and look like an idiot. 🧠

Worried sick about Thomas all the damn time.

Wears tacky dad shirts and shit. (See ex) #1 dad 😍

Has no idea what’s going on 98% of the time.

^ But no one knows this.

Tries to be so cool around the kids only to embarrass Thomas instantly. 😭 (help him please)

^

“Alright, cool cats, let’s get outta here!”

“…Fuck, dad…”

“MADIWMEWKENRHWKMRNEJWNEHE”

“BAHAHAHAHHSHSHSHJSNENEJEJ”

“Meow!!!”

Also he’s terrified of Lucian what

Scarlet

“This is a time to bond together!!”

Packed just the right stuff.

Second babysitter of the group.

^ But terrible at it seeing she just falls asleep on a beach towel for the majority of the time.

Doesn’t swim because she’s too good for that, yet looks the best in a bathing suit…

Sorts out all the issues that occur between the group-*cough cough* Thomas and Lucian.

^

“What happened, why are you crying? *GASP* He threw a fish at you? I will talk to him straight away, but first! Let’s get you cleaned up and get some ice cream, okay?”

Their mom.

Tries to get everyone to have bonding time together by fun activities around (arcades, the beach, an amusement park, etc.) but it almost always falls into chaos.

Deadass gets hit by waves as she’s sleeping then be like: “It’s a sign from God 😨” Bestie what 😭

Evelyn

“IS THAT A CRAB?!” *pointing at a rock*

OVERPACKED EVERYTHING.

^ Beach dresses, causal dresses, formal dresses, baddie dresses, beach shoes, causal shoes, formal shoes, baddie shoes, beach hat, causal hat, formal hat, baddie hat, 8 bathing suits, 78 sunscreen bottles, 90 towels, 62 sand toys (for lulu), 27 bug spray protection, 19 sunglasses-the list goes on.

Should not, cannot, will not go in the water at all. All she can see is those little children in the ocean…definitely getting away with peeing in there 😭

Self conscious about the way she looks in her Bikini…😢

Hates the sand, stands on top of the cooler.

Complains to Adrien the majority of the time and becomes besties with him because they are both clean freaks.

HATES any sort of beach creature. Fish, crabs, seagulls, you name it, she hates it. Literally sprays her bug spray at anything that she doesn’t like. 😭

^

“Is that a crab?”

“Yea-!”

*SPRAYS IT WITH BUG SPRAY*

“BRUH-”

Sam

“Seashells for e-everyone…!”

Poor boy probably under packs because he’s so anxious about being annoying. 🥺

Holds hands with Lulu the majority of the time, considering he’s so outgoing and he’s so nervous.

^

“So many people…”

“It’s okay! We’re almost to the beach, you see?”

“Mhm…”

Wears cute bathing suit trunks and a t-shirt to swim with because he’s a precious boy.

Does not sunburn. He just gets tanner no matter what-

Surprisingly good at swimming. He likes doing little flips under the water.

Collects seashells and makes them into necklaces for everyone because he’s just that sweet.

Hopes a shark comes and bites the fuck out of Thomas.

Lucian

“Let’s go to the beach beach! Nicki Minaj…”

Overpacks, but with nothing he needs.

^ Brings coloring books, stuffed animals, toys, but not basic stuff like shoes?? 😭

^^ So he has to share stuff with Thomas and Sam…it’s not good.

Loves the sand, loves the water, hates the fish. If he sees a fish he’s going to flip. the. fuck. out.

Makes crappy sandcastles but he’s trying his best. 🥺 (they’re just piles of sand with sticks and stuff)

Cannot swim for the life of him, so stays on the shallow end. At least, until Thomas pulls him out into the deepest part he can go. Then he’s just stuck on Thomas’s shoulders crying 😭

^

“LET ME GOOOOO GO BACKKKKK”

“You wanna go further?!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

He wears similar things as Sam, as he’s really anxious about showing lots of skin. It was a struggle just getting him in a swimming suit that showed under his knees…he’s really weary about anything like that.

Thomas

“Yooooooooo shark week looking real good today.”

Under packs himself, but his dad has him covered and overpacks everything.

Tries to look cool in front of all the girls/boys by a nice pair of sunglasses and his swimming trunks…what he forgets is that he has -10000 muscles so he looks like a shrimp…

Pulled the stunt where he pretends he’s drowning so Scarlet would save him, but his dad came instead. I’m crying sobbing tearing up.

Catches fish to show Lucian and very much THROW THEM ON HIM.

^ Or just says he sees a fish and makes him flip the hell out.

Constantly has his dad on top of him checking his heart rate.

Drags Sam under water by grabbing his ankles and flinging him. (Don’t do this guys.)

When he wants Charlie’s attention, he’ll give him a dead serious look and say, “I see a shark.” Then, next thing you know, Charlie is on top of him screaming his heart out. 😭

^

“Baby…”

“What.”

“I don’t want to scare you but…I think I just saw a shark.”

“WHAAAAAAAATTTTTT”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Do you think that Animorphs could have been improved if morphing and demorphing didn't heal your original body? Firstly, it doesn't make a ton of sense, as your original form is kept in z-space, so demorphing should just return you that form without any alterations. Secondly, it would allow a couple plot points such as Tobias's wing in MM2 and Ax's sickness in #29 to be much more feasible. I'm not super well versed in the lore though, so I may be missing something.

I’m inclined to say it would not improve the series.  Because without a healing factor, Animorphs would lose a lot of its realism.

Hear me out.

If the Animorphs don’t heal between battles, but the series is still about superheroes fighting aliens, then there are only so many ways the series can treat violence.  And none of them are particularly realistic.

The Animorphs could face exactly as much horrific injury and very real threat of harm (amputation, disembowelment, and all) as they do in the series.  But if they can’t heal, then it’s gonna be a really damn short war.  Off the top of my head: Marco dies in #4 from shark bite, Jake and Cassie die in #6 from poisoning, Rachel and Ax bleed out in #7, and Tobias gets eaten by a raccoon in #13.

The Animorphs could have strictly “harmless” tactics against an enemy that uses “harmless” tactics against them.  Think Kim Possible, Transformers, or My Little Pony.  If it’s “laser beams set to stun” vs. “the predators that don’t do anything,” then there would be a dramatic shift in tone.  Kim Possible is a great series, but it would never be classified as horror, and it never contains any real threat of characters coming to permanent harm.  Animorphs would be different (more like AniTV, frankly) if the violence was never allowed to inflict damage, and it’d lose a lot of what makes it unique along the way.

The Animorphs could have the superhero Thing where they take huge amounts of damage and then just... get better.  Think like Firefly, where characters get shot and stabbed realistically but then are inexplicably running around a week later like nothing happened.  They get realistic short-term damage onscreen, but unrealistic insta-recovery between episodes.  I personally HATE this trope because it’s low-key eugenicist in its emphasis on Macho Men Who Feel No Pain.  But yes, Animorphs could do this, again at the expense of realistic depictions of bodily harm.

The Animorphs could be immune to harm sometimes and not others, depending on the tone of a scene.  Again, tons of superhero series do this, and again it’s a pet peeve.  In Umbrella Academy, bullets are harmless and fun when the Handler’s firing them at Lila in an upbeat training montage... and they’re horrible and deadly when they rip through the Hargreeveses two episodes later.  In Batman, Robin 4.0 can be shot in the torso three times and keep right on swinging, but Robin 2.0 takes one crowbar to the head and straight-up dies.  This treatment of injury drives me UP THE WALL because it a) makes light of gun violence and b) makes it impossible to know how seriously to take any given scene.  So Animorphs could do that, but personally I’d hate it.

The Animorphs could inflict lots of harm, but not have any done to them.  This is close to how the series does it, but without a healing factor there’d have to be practically no threat to the Animorphs themselves while they went around slaughtering controllers.  Think Doctor Who and the tendency for their annihilating entire alien species to be played for laughs, while the Doctor themself remains untouchable and rarely even rumples their suit.  Either the protagonists become Heroes in Name Only, or they become the villains.  If the yeerks can’t hurt the kids at all, but the kids still harm the yeerks as much as they do, then we’d go from morally-grey protagonists to irredeemable-asshole protagonists really fast.

So I think the healing factor serves a very specific purpose within a series that nailed the “superheroes, but realistic” trope decades before it became a trend.  The healing factor allows K.A. Applegate et al. to get way into the utter nastiness of violence and trauma.  It prevents glossing over the reality of what it means to kill someone (see options 2 & 4) or be seriously injured (see option 3), while also avoiding a fight that’s entirely one-sided (see options 5 & 1).  It draws attention to the mental toll of trauma through divorcing that from the physical toll.  It’s what makes Animorphs so profoundly, disturbingly anti-war.

Ergo: no.  I don’t think the series would improve if the healing factor was gone.