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hannahhook7744 · 2 months ago

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I Don’t Know Why All The Trees Change In The Fall, But I Know You’re Not Scared Of Anything At All;

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Summary: Isabela’s son is a mama’s boy. Trigger Warnings: Confusion, fear, jealousy, thoughts of violence, swearing, blasphemy, anger issues, and repeated use of the word ‘stupid’. Encantober 2024: Leaves. The way Isabela is thinking of Pedro is based off this wonderful fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37560733/chapters/93751921

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Arlo Emo Marquez Madrigal, son of Isabela Rojas Madrigal and Bubo Marquez, at five years old didn't yet know why all the trees changed in the fall (or why the leaves changed whenever his mother wanted them to).

Or whether Snow White's house was near or far away.

But one thing he did know without a doubt was that his mamá wasn't scared of anything at all. He knew this because he'd seen it first hand, on multiple occasions.

He'd seen her chase off the mean old dead fish lady with a cactus after she insulted his mamá’s Tío Bruno.

He'd seen her chase off his papá’s mean old papá and hermanos with an Épée.

He's seen her chase the donkey farmer with a chancla after he tried to ask Tía Luisa to help him catch the donkeys again on Christmas morning.

Arlo had even seen her pick up spiders with her bare hands and had seen her wrestle one of her potato people out of Parce’s mouth and send the jaguar to the corner.

So, yeah. Arlo or Mi pequeña flor, as his mamá liked to call him, knew that his mamá wasn't scared of anything at all and he'd even wager all of his allowance with Primo Camilo on it if he hadn't been banned from gambling by his padres.

Which was exactly why when, during his gift ceremony, his hair went from soft and dry to liquid-y and move-y he ran in terror straight for his madre without even glancing at his door or his siblings’ new doors because he knew she'd protect him from whatever his gift had done to him and make Casita fix it.

And he knew she would because he had the bestest mommy in the Encanto. “¡MAMI! ¡MAMI! ¡MAMI! ¡MAMI!”

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To Arlo’s disappointment, mamá couldn't fix his hair.

His hair, that had gone from wavy and curly and pitch black (like both his parents) to teal water with live, moving goldfish in it—because apparently his gift could affect his appearance far more than just making eyes go from hazel to green like it had with Tío abuelo Bruno.

Arlo hated it.

He hated his stupid new hair and wanted his cool old hair that made him look like his parents’ clone back. He hated his stupid Hy-dro-kin-esis or his water bending as Tío abuelo Bruno and Primo Cy called it. He hated that his head was always wet and that he could feel the fish moving, and that his papá and mamá couldn't play with his hair anymore. He hated that he couldn't cuddle with his parents or his siblings and cousins without his hair dripping everywhere.

Arlo hated his stupid water-filled room that drip, drip, dripped non-stop no matter the time of day. He hated how the water rose when he was upset and how people he didn't know in town kept trying to touch his hair.

He hated everything about his gift and he hated the miracle and he hated Casita and he hated his Tía Mirabel for handing him her magical door knob during the ceremony. But most of all he hated his siblings and cousins for getting gifts they loved when he was stuck with one he hated that kept giving him ear infections that Abuela Julieta’s food couldn't heal.

Why did his hermano Miguel Jr (or Smiley or MJ as he had been nicknamed) get to make shields out of thin air? Why did Miguel Jr get to make a shield bubble that he could run into walls with, without getting a boo-boo when Arlo was stuck with water bending?

Why did his hermana Zoey get to talk to and fix machines that he could befriend while Arlo was stuck with water bending?

Why did Princesa get to make different gasses?

Why did Elmira get to play with music and make things happen?

Why did Claudine get to turn invisible and why did Rachel get to make things come to life by sewing?

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Why did Cesare get telepathy and Cornel get to see the dead and Cy get to see the future like Tío abuelo Bruno did?

And why did Rick get to tell when people were lying?

Why was Arlo the only one with a gift he hated?

Why did Casita and the miracle hate him?

He didn't want this gift. He wanted something cool, like being the next miracle holder or his mamá’s gift! Preferably something like his mamá’s gift. Not a dumb ol’ gift that ruined his hair and ruined his room and ruined his cuddles!

Arlo couldn't even draw the leaves on his mamá’s vines and plants anymore without the water from his hair dripping onto his drawing and dampening the paper!

It wasn't fair!

He wasn't even allowed to swim anymore either ‘cause the adults and bigger kids were scared that they wouldn't be able to see him ‘cause of his hair if he drowned. He loved swimming and now he couldn't.

He couldn't play outside while it was cold either or sleep in someone else's bed with them without getting everything all wet because of his hair anymore either! It wasn't fair.

It wasn't.

And he didn't know why his mamá couldn't fix it— didn’t Casita know that his mamá was the bestest mamá and that she had to listen to her? Didn't the miracle know that?

Arlo hated them for not listening to his mamá and he hated that his mean old gift made his mamá sad. He even tried to hide how much he didn't like his power after he saw how much it upset her but the fish haired boy wasn't sure if he was successful because she kept trying to tell him that he'd grow to love his gift to make him feel better.

That abuelo had picked it out just for him.

That water was the reason her leaves and vines and leaves and flowers and leaves could live. That his water could save her plants in a drought. Whatever a drought was.

But it didn't make him feel better—because he knew that his mamá was just lying for his benefit; something that only served to make him despise his gift more because it had turned his honest madre into a liar —which he knew was a bad thing because his bisabuela Alma said that lying was rude and not good and not nice, and that they shouldn't lie.

And if his madre was a liar because of his gift, then his madre was bad and he didn't want his mamá or his papá to be bad.

But they were. All because of his useless, awful gift.

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“See how green and lively the water makes the leaves, hijo? Isn't it nice?” Isabela asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice as she kneeled in front of her five year old with a big fake, painfully forced smile on her face.

Hoping that her son wouldn't notice that she was trying to fake it till she made it. It, in this case, being love for her son’s gift.

Since the mad scientist of a florist, quite frankly, despised her poor little son—who was so much like her that it hurt—’s gift. Maybe the artist would have liked the gift given to her little mini-me if Arlo himself had liked it but she would never know because her Arlo didn't like his gift and didn't want it.

El infierno, her little flower had even gone as far as begging for Casita to take it and his room back.

It killed her and Bubo to see their son in such pain, especially since they had done everything they could think of to ease the boy's misery with absolutely no results other than Arlo trying to hide how much he was rejecting his gift from them. Which neither of them wanted in the slightest.

Dios, the first thing Isabela was gonna do when she died was strangle her abuelo for giving her poor flower such a dreadful gift—if he was even responsible for this whole ordeal, that was. Not that the artist doubted that her grandfather was responsible for the miracle and their gifts; oh, no she was fairly confident that that was the case ever since Mirabel had suggested it. Mirabel was hardly ever wrong these days and Abuela had even confirmed that it did sound like something her Pedro would do.

El absoluto imbécil.

And Cornel did say that Pedro had even admitted to being responsible for choosing the gifts each of them had gotten.

Oh how she couldn't wait to ring his neck for the gifts he'd given her triplets and for the mischievous nature Camilo had undoubtedly inherited from him. El bastardo.

Dios, Isabela hadn't been this mad since she found out while giving birth that she was having triplets.

Arlo scowled at the potted plant—something he'd never have done before his disaster of a gift ceremony—scrunching up his nose and hugging what was now his stuffed flower. Glaring at the plant as if it had done something to personally offend him as a fish attempted to swim out of his hair. “ No. ”

Oh, juro por Dios, she was gonna murder her abuelo for a second time when she next saw him.

#encantober 2024 #encantober #encanto #descendants #disney descendants #melissa de la cruz #disney #descendants au #wicked world #disney descendants au #encanto x descendants #invisible truth au #the invisible truth #isabela madrigal/bubo marquez #etc

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riveranova · 2 years ago

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(A/N): Some IkePri as Roommates Headcanons, because my own roommate is making me want to eat my cactus. :,)

The IkePri Guys as Roommates x GN! Reader - Part 1

Warnings: Nokto's a lil bit Spicy, honestly mostly crack

Characters: Gilbert, Silvio, Keith, Sariel, Rio, Clavis, Notko, Ikemen Prince

Word count: 1.044

Gilbert von Obsidian

honestly, menace

i'm 100% sure that he does not know how to cook

doesn't he like to poison peoples food? yeah.

but like, hes not doing it on purpose - he has this really cool game of thrones cookbook which he uses for almost all his meals

hes having three mental breakdowns and calls his mother two times which results in her just not answering the phone anymore

has no problem with asking you for help tho

when you enter the kitchen you have to look twice at what he made

,,Idk why it's so orange, I didn't even use orange ingredients!''

You get my point

otherwise hes actually very nice to you

hes still the kind of guy who would laugh his ass off if you fell before helping you up

hes keeping a clean room and follows the cleaning plan for your apartment

i imagine him to get cold SO easily - like you'd rather catch this man dead than with an open window in winter

80/100 would roommate again

Silvio Ricci

*sigh*

the complete opposite of Gilbert

hes using those italian roots

dont you fucking dare cook without him because lo' and behold, this man cooks like he worked with Gordon Ramsay his entire life

he insists on wearing his rings tho no matter what hes cooking which results in him cursing like a sailor every five minutes

husband material in the kitchen

the rest,,, not so much

i imagine that he does clean but like BARE minimum

like, the barest - the line is ON THE FLOOR

vacuuming the floor but not under furniture, that bad

he doesnt get why, he never sees it anyways and he has better things to do

i think his rooms smells very good, like eros from versace

problem is, it smells A LOT

so now your entire apartment smells like eros from versace

if you have a sensitive nose, I'm sorry for you

60/100 would roommate again

Keith Howell

okay so lets say Keith is uh,,, less fucked up

he mostly keeps to himself but if he needs something, he asks you

you don't know how he does it but you never hear a peep out of his room - as if he just sleeps 90% of the day

hey, maybe he does - i could almost relate

if you guys get along well, hes actually a really sweet man

his actions speak louder than his words tho

you need something build? ask Keith! you need something carried up (or down) the stairs? ask Keith! there is a fucking huge spider in your room? ...run, because Keith wouldnt touch that thing for the life of him

i imagine that hes as quiet as he is because my man is studying

straight A student but is shit at explaining things so he can't really help you

you both end up crying if he tries to exlpain math to you

80/100 would roommate again

Sariel Noir

it feels like your living with your grandma

in the most amazing way possible

dont get me wrong, i love Sariel but I'm 100% sure that this man would act like an old lady

he loves these really old tablecloths that look like this

puts them everywhere too - on your kitchentable, on the little drawer by the frontdoor and i BET the even has them on his desk

like omg little versions of them for his flowers and like little pots with random shit in them

i bet he makes them himself too

hes way to old to be a student but for the sake of this, lets say hes in his 20s

also a straight A student and, obviously, really great at tutoring

you guys share the same classes and that saved your ass more than once

he takes the tutoring seriously, very seriously

he doesnt whip you when you fail, he rather makes you do chores around the house for longer than you'd have to

90/100 would roommate again

Rio Ortiz

puppy dog boy l

i can't not see him as anything else

you guys knew each other before you moved in together

when you told him that you needed a roomie, he made sure that he would be the one moving in with you

obviously in love with you, doesnt even hide it

makes sure youre never hungry, everything is clean

i'm sure that even if you guys had a cleaning plan, he'd just clean before you have the chance to

simp

also, a yes friend

dyeing your hair? yes. cutting your hair at 2am as a result of a mental breakdown? yes. randomly rearranging your bedroom? yes.

loves to cuddle

spends a lot of time in the living room, waiting for his pray (you) to fall into his trap (the sofa) to be violenty (softly) ripped apart (cuddled)

you have to remind him to relax once in a while, hes not your butler after all

100/100 would roommate again

Clavis Lelouch

*sigh_pt.2*

i mean, at least it doesnt get boring around him

opposite of Keith, hes loud as fuck in his room

watches 'try not to laugh' challenges only to laugh 90% of the time

he loves to prank you (really now)

he once put bleach in your shampoo but ended up using it himself on accident

he played it off as planned, mastertrapper clavis doesnt fail

doesnt cook for himself, he snatches food from you

tried his hand at baking and it actually turned out good

it looked like a disaster

he ruined the taste by putting random shit in it to prank you

,,don't worry, it tastes better than it looks!!'' *hides the tuna can behind his back*

youre actually the one tutoring him

he finds studying boring af so he just doesnt do it

straight B student because the universe is unfair

his room is a mess which follows him wherever he goes

60/100 would (think twice about) roommate again-

Nokto Klein

fuckboy (in the most insulting way possible)

i cant keep defending this man

isnt home, like ever

only if he brings people home

no matter the gender, he brings them home

results in you having a lot of akward run-ins

is also really loud in his room for.. reasons

definetly tried to fuck you once and even if you say no, the flirty-teasy remarks never stop

he'd never disrespect you in any way tho

if you look past his fuckboy-self, hes actually a gentleman

if hes home, that is

helps you with homework (if hes home)

cooks you food if you dont have time (if hes home)

you dont know where he is, you guess that hes partying

hes with his family - mostly Licht

due to,,, problems,, he and Licht hat to stick together

hes still visiting bars after

40/100 would (really question myself if we) roommate again

#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen prince #nokto klein #clavis lelouch #rio ortiz #silvio ricci #sariel noir #keith howell #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri #ikepri headcanons #ikemen x reader #gn! reader

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bedofthistles · 7 months ago

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Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - Moonacre Week 2024 (Taylor's Version)

If it had been up to her, the station would have been bigger. It didn’t need to be anything grand, but it could have been at least more than the shaky planks of wood held together with some rusty nails. Maria, of course, supposed the nails were rusty, as she and Miss Heliotrope clung together for dear life as the shoddy platform slanted under their weight.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” She asked, holding a hand against the blinding sky. All around her was nothing but flat desert and blue sky. Not so much as a mountain range to look at, or a park for which she could stroll around, she knew from the letters that this settlement - if it could be called that - would have nothing as far as department stores, restaurants, or theaters, but there wasn’t so much as a cactus.

“Uh- uh- well-!” Ms. Heliotrope began, trying to find her words as she too stared out into the terrible nothingness, when the platform shook once more as the manservant who had been sent to escort them, threw their luggage down beside them.

“Oh of course, ma’ams! This’ll be the stop for Moonacre! Look at the sign!” Digweed - a tolerable enough man, if one did not try to engage him in intellectual conversation - pointed to a tall, wooden pole that jutted out from the corner, it wobbled just as fiercely, and its sign swayed back and forth, illegible. However, Maria did catch a large letter ‘M’ even if the sign was still in motion, so he must have been right.

With their luggage removed from the car, Digweed jumped from the train, and a conductor shut the door, tipping their hat to them in farewell. The train whistled, and Maria watched the bars across the wheels begin to move.

Maria couldn’t remember if she smiled at the man for his service, or if she had even managed to wave her hand but as the train left the station, Maria got her first real glimpse of Moonacre Valley. Resting in the low foothills of a gently sloping mountain range was not what Maria would call a town at all. It hardly even counted as a village, it was no bigger than a New York avenue.

“It’s- it’s-” Ms. Heliotrope began.

“Miniscule.” Maria said with no small amount of reproach.

“Hush! It’s lovely.” Ms. Heliotrope made a sort of bashful laugh, as if she were embarrassed, but Digweed didn’t seem to care at all as he was bringing their bags down and into the dirt.

Maria scrunched her nose, grateful she had held onto her carpet bag, and that it would not be joining the pile.

“Welcome to Moonacre Valley.”

Maria’s heart jumped, and Ms. Heliotrope gave an undignified screech as a man, dark and angry, strolled up the rickety steps of the station. Maria clung to Ms. Heliotrope until the strange man stood no more than five feet away from them, but Maria was raised with manners, with a proper British education, and she knew that no matter the situation, she was called to rise above it.

She left Ms. Heliotrope’s side, holding out her hand to the man she knew was her Uncle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Then he did something funny. Quite rude. Quite humiliating.

Her Uncle, Benjamin Merryweather, mayor of the newly founded Moonacre Valley gave her hand a sharp, shrewd look, before turning his gaze to his manservant.

“The trip went well, Digweed?”

“Oh, of course, sir! As well as a train ride all the way from New York can be!”

“Excuse me, Uncle-”

The man sighed, his eyes rolling upward, before he turned and addressed her. “Yes, can I help you?”

“I- I’m sorry for any inconvenience we may cause, but as a young lady of my upbringing, I hope and pray that I am able to bring you any sort of aid you could possibly need, to make the best of our new situation. And so that I can be less burdensome.”

Benjamin Merryweather regarded her for a second, there was no shock in his eyes about how well she spoke, no gratitude at her offer, and only a slight lift in his brows at the word ‘burdensome’, as if he believed she was one.

“There is not much future for a woman out here, though I suppose I can use a secretary. Are you able to write? Missives? Notes?”

Maria blinked, “Are you asking me about my penmanship? And- and I can’t work! I-”

He huffed through his nose, “Young lady, right now I do not need to act as a chaperone, I need to act as mayor in this town, there is no law except for what I am able to dole out! It is my sole responsibility, if you wish to be less burdensome, unencumbered, and a liability, than what I need is a secretary.”

“Well- I-”

“Sir! The young lady did not come here to work!” Ms. Heliotrope interjected on Maria’s behalf. “She is a- a young lady! Not some poor urchin who needs to work for her living!”

“And what are you?” He asked cooly, delivering her a cool gaze before she stuttered into silence. Then, very suddenly, he sighed and almost had a look of compassion. “Maria, what I said before is the truth, this is not London or New York, it's a new, and dangerous, world. One that, unfortunately, still needs to be conquered, it is not for the civilized.”

“But…” Maria pursed her lips. It was not entirely untrue of her to say she had no future in New York. Of course, the death of one’s last remaining parent made things difficult, but not impossible. Her father’s fortune spent, the house taken as collateral, and an eighteenth birthday at the end of summer. Her plans for the future, a future that had been guaranteed to her since birth, was shattered. Blue eyes shoot across the forefront of her mind, but she closed her own tight, and shook her head clear of the reflection.

Legally, she could not be on her own, she needed a guardian, and for all Ms. Heliotrope’s strengths, she was little more than an overzealous nanny who had stayed on far too long. Maria could have… well- she could have married. She could have stayed in New York and lived the life she had always planned if she had married. But.. she had said no.

Of course, it wasn’t William’s fault, it never would be, but he was ready and Maria was, decidedly, not.

She was, decidedly, frightened.

Not of the love Will had to offer, and he had plenty of it, but what it would mean. She was, afterall, still so young, barely a woman, and with so much life felt to live. Life, that, she could potentially find out West. And if she had any doubts, she never would have gotten on the train. The dread that filled her heart was anticipation. What did she know of what was waiting for her out here? And that same thought filled her with exhilaration.

“Of course I will help you, Uncle.”

“Maria!” Ms. Heliotrope gasped, mostly in shock.

“It would be an honor and a privilege to act as your secretary.”

“There we are then,” Benjamin nodded his head. “Nothing to be done. Come along Maria, allow me to introduce you to Moonacre.”

Benjamin brandished a hand outward to the small, dusty street that boasted but few buildings. He offered his arm, and Maria took it, leaving Ms. Heliotrope with Digweed and the bags. Benjamin helped her down the steps and then over the train tracks.

“See there, that is the courthouse, it is where my office is, and yours will be as well… and see just there, that is a trading post, even the Indians come and trade their furs and leathers with us… and just there is a general store… and-”

A man crashed out of a window, landing at Maria and Benjamin’s feet. He was dirty and smelled foul, his gray bread matted in several places, and despite having just flown through a glass window, he laughed, jumped back up to his feet and ran back inside where rowdy noise and piano music flooded from the newly broken window.

“What’s that?” Maria asked, craning her neck around to see inside, there was an uproar as the man came back inside, unhurt and ready for more. While the place seemed to be crawling with more men just like the one before, it wasn’t entirely filled with miscreants. A beautiful woman waltzed around between the men in an evening gown, she was like a glistening jewel, and despite how ridiculous she looked compared to the men, she carried herself with the air of the ladies from London. As the piano played, a young girl in a golden dress danced on the stage, bright and shining like a star.

“Nothing but a seedy, evil, devilish place that you will not step a foot inside of!” Benjamin warned huffily, but before he could pull Maria along, she was drawn into the light of a door opening in the back.

A man walked in, unnoticed, all eyes on the dancer, and he was dangerous. Maria knew that as soon as she laid eyes on him that he was a criminal, the outlaws she had been warned about. The other men had the look of hard labor about their eyes, good, honest work, but not this man. His eyes shifted around the bar, and he slinked around the edge, dressed as a shadow. He didn’t trust any of them, and of course, Maria knew that no one trusted him. There was a pistol at his side, and rope hanging from the other, a black bandanna around his lower face, covered in dirt and dust. But then, of course, his surveying of the room brought his eyes to the broken window, to the dirt street, to her. Maria gasped and a chill ran through her, suddenly transfixed, suddenly terrified, as if the glint in his eye had lassoed her and held her tight.

“I am sorry sir, but this is just not that kind of establishment!” A shout rang out, breaking the spell, and before Maria had time to react, to gather her senses, the piano came to a jolting halt.

Benjamin groaned low in his throat as he turned roughly and walked inside.

“Maria!” Ms. Heliotrope called, struggling to catch up to them and their quick pace, Digweed the slowest of them all.

Maria followed her Uncle inside, standing just within the doorway.

On the stage, the dancer was standing with her hands on her hips, and a rather proud expression on her lips. A man was screaming, clutching a red hand.

“What is the meaning of this!” Benjamin shouted, garnering the attention of the establishment.

Maria, of course, watched her Uncle as he took charge of the situation, but her eyes could not help but slip back to the young man- criminal- outlaw she had seen through the window just in time to watch him disappear out the side door.

“Sheriff and Mayor!” The woman called, her voice like butter, “To what do we owe the honor?”

“If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed.”

Maria, with the eyes of everyone else on Benjamin, the Woman, or the Dancer, wove through the crowd to the side door.

“Seen what?”

“A physical assault by that young lady!”

The Dancer gasped, loud and affronted, while the Woman began to hastily defend her.

“Then you must have seen that lech reach out and grab her!”

“I could not have possibly seen that through all these people!”

“I was only defending myself! I have a right to defend myself! Especially from horrible, terrible, no good men who think I’m some common whore!”

Maria pushed gently on the door, and with no look back over her shoulder, to see her Uncle and the Woman standing toe to toe, Maria stepped outside.

But, there was no one. Maria squinted at the sight of the hills just beginning to raise up to the mountains, where on earth could he have-

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

Maria clutched her hammering heart after she jumped just about ten feet into the air. “Goodness, you could have given me some warning!”

Maria turned sharply and there was the criminal leaning up against the corner of the sun bleached building.

He had removed the bandanna from his face, and she thought to herself that was a stupid thing to do if he was in fact a criminal, then she was more likely to recognize him.

“Apologizes.” He smiled, and then knocked on the side of the building and waved. “Better?”

Maria felt her jaw slacken before she fixed her face and crafted it into something more dignified. “Not at all, as my heart is still beating faster than a rabbit’s. Who are you?”

He laughed, “No.”

“No?”

“No, that’s not how things are done here, or did your Uncle not give you the message?”

“How did you know-?”

The man- criminal? - pushed away from the wall and stalked towards her. “I know everything around here, it's my job.”

“Do- do you work with my Uncle?” Maria scrunched her nose, she knew that was an impossibility.

“Quite the opposite, I work against him.”

“You stop right there and-! And don’t take another step closer to me!” Her hands curled into fists, she had been stupid to follow him out here, though once a man had tried to nick Ms. Heliotrope’s handbag, not realizing it was tied around her wrist. Ms. Heliotrope and Maria were able to beat the man with their umbrellas, however, Maria did not have an umbrella, or even a parasol, within reach.

And he had a gun.

Maria swallowed, as the pistol glinted in the high noon sun. How often did he use that thing? Was it empty, or had he just replenished it this morning?

She should turn and run, but she was rather like that rabbit she had mentioned a little bit ago, and found that she had been cornered, frozen in fear. The outlaw backed her into the splintering paneled wood, one hand braced above her head, she didn’t think her fists would do her any good.

“I know what you are.” She said.

“Oh?”

“You’re a bandit.”

He laughed and scratched his chin, “Oh sure, but I bet you’d never recognize my picture.”

Maria’s eyes flashed down to the rest of his face, a silent disagreement.

“Of course, but all my wanted posters never show my full face.” He tugged at the mask. “Hard to bring someone in when they only have half of you.”

“Then… why?”

“Tit for tat.” The outlaw, bandit, criminal, tugged his bandana around his face, some of the dust billowing into her eyes. “I have your name, and you have my face.”

“You have my face and my name, that is not what I call fair.” She said, mostly without thinking.

“You’ll find out soon enough, besides, yours isn’t the wanted face.” He winked and before Maria could make a retort, he ran off, ducking behind the building.

“What a strange young man.” She said to herself, her hand over her thundering heart. Then, a black horse burst out from the alley and the man, whose face she had but name she did not, rode off into the foothills.

“Good morning, Uncle.” Maria said, sweeping into his office, dressed in her pale pink dress, her hair carefully twisted to one side with jeweled pins. She made no mention of the fact he had left without her that morning, nor did he tell her what time he would be leaving. At seven, Maria however planned to arrive at nine am, which was the typical time offices opened in the city.

“Maria.” He grumbled, “I’ve placed some telegrams on your desk to respond to.”

Maria looked around herself, but saw nothing.

“Outside, in front of the door.” Her Uncle waved her off. “And one more thing, don’t let anyone bother me.”

Maria took in his less than stellar appearance: his unshaven jaw, his lack of cravat, his waistcoat half buttoned. She did not speak on his appearance, but made a face despite herself.

Well, the desk was tidy, at least, and perhaps being alone, she’d have freedom to do a bit more work than her Uncle would approve of.

By five o’clock, Maria had abandoned her jacket and ran around in just her white blouse, she had removed the jewels and replaced them so her hair was up and out of her face, she had ink on her fingers, and most of the filing reorganized. As it had never been organized to begin with.

“What have you done?” Her Uncle half roared, half stuttered as he looked around in confoundment.

Maria rolled her eyes, “Well, for starters there was absolutely no system in which any of your papers were organized, deeds, sales, business letters, threats, were all just thrown into the same place. Secondly, do you know how many people have come in here on this day? Complaint after complaint, so I set up a complaint box in which they can write their complaints and you can get to them later, I’ve been compiling them in an order of which I think needs handling first, but you may be the judge of that, and-”

“That will be enough.” Benjamin cleared his throat, the anger subsided and a look of - was that awe? - settled over his features. “Let’s go home.”

“You have no need to worry about that young man.”

Maria gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin as she spun away from the wall of wanted posters hung in the market. She had not been looking at the poster she assumed belonged to the young man she had seen yesterday, the Rogue Rascal.

Before her was the Woman from the saloon, her fancy evening gown traded for a simple blue skirt, and she too was only wearing a white blouse. Though Maria had donned hers as she was going out into public, she was regretting it, every step she took. It was dreadfully hot, and it was still morning.

The Woman offered the shade of her parasol to Maria, a ratty old thing, the lace torn, and while it may have started off white, it was almost a perfect match to the dirt that surrounded them.

“The Rogue Rascal? His picture is- different from the others.”

The Woman nodded, hooking an arm around Maria’s “He has never been caught, so our town sheriff has never been able to snap his picture.”

“Ah.” Maria said, “You mean my Uncle-”

“Yes.” The Woman grimaced, “Mayor, sheriff, Mr. Big Britches himself.”

Maria pursed her lips together to stop herself from smiling. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Your Uncle? I hope not-”

“No.” Maria shook her head, “The Rogue Rascal, he posed no threat to me.”

The Woman smiled, “Oh? Is that so?”

Maria nodded, “What poses the biggest threat is this infernal heat! Does it ever get better?”

The Woman nodded, “Yes, I daresay it does, for only about three months of the year, one month in the autumn before winter sets in, and the two months in spring before Mr. Sun comes back.”

“How dreadful.” Maria muttered, but the Woman had heard, and laughed.

“Maria.” Her Uncle’s harsh voice came from behind her.

The two stopped, and while Maria offered her Uncle a smile, the Woman’s look was one slightly more challenging. Perhaps even condescending. “Mr. Benjamin.”

“Loveday.” Her Uncle said, the word hard and forced. “Maria, you would be wise not to associate yourself with that woman. Her reputation is one that is muddled. Who knows what goes on in the upstairs of her saloon.”

“Mr. Merryweather.” Loveday began, sharp as glass. “I have told you time and time again that my establishment is not a whorehouse, and I would very appreciate you stop inferring that my girls’ work is not honorable.”

“Dancing in front of men is not what I call honorable.”

She tilted her head, “Oh, but Mr. Merryweather, haven’t you told me how fond you were of the ballet?”

“Maria, come along.”

Maria kept her head down, to keep her smile from being too evident, as she squeezed Loveday’s arm in gratitude and came to her Uncle’s side. “It was lovely meeting you.”

Loveday in turn winked, she turned, setting her parasol on her shoulder and disappeared into the Saturday morning market.

“I liked her.”

“You would.” Benjamin mumbled, rolling his eyes but making Maria laugh.

It was easy to sneak out, not because the house was without lock.

Benjamin had made it clear that the land they occupied was dangerous and wild, but well, Benjamin had a bad habit of drinking a tad bit too much every night. So, no matter how much noise Maria made, as long as she had nicked the keys, she could sneak out and leave no trace that she had left.

The first night she had gone to the saloon, Maria watched the girls dance in dazzling dresses, a beautiful woman in blue sang as if she were a trained opera singer, and the woman at the piano managed to keep up with it all despite how the level of difficulty of the pieces of music escalated with each performance. The men cheered, and as long as they kept their hands to themselves, they were allowed to come back.

The second night, Loveday had given Maria - despite her attempts at concealing herself - a drink on the house.

The third, Maria worked up the courage to talk to one of the dancers, she was invited back the fourth night and the girl showed her all the different dresses and gowns they had to perform in.

The fifth night, Maria was asked by the girls if she would like to take the stage, and she rejected, but they continued in their lighthearted pestering. They took her answer as soon as she gave it, but they could see her resolve was breaking, and how could it not? When was the last time she had danced?

The sixth, seventh, and eighth, she rejected, but on the ninth night, perhaps half crazed by the full moon, Maria agreed. They pulled a vibrant red dress out of the wardrobe, corseted her in, and promised she wouldn’t be alone on the stage.

A week had passed since then, Loveday had started giving her a paycheck, and Maria allowed the exhilaration of the dance she performed to whisk her away.

The red dress was officially hers, and none of the other girls touched it, saying it fit her too well for any of them to take it away from her. She added the black opera length gloves she had always felt were too promiscuous to wear in New York, and she stuck feathers in her hair, or glittering jewels, whichever suited her fancy.

But that night, the crowd was different.

Maria recognized the usual farmers, their wives, the young cattle herders, the business owners, but stuck in the back, cloaked in shadow, were four men. She had never been nervous before (alright, perhaps her first night she had taken the stage, her mind ran wild with scenarios where her Uncle bursted in and caught her red handed) but as the Rogue Rascal’s eyes locked onto her, her face and her body, she suddenly felt the pressure to do more than just dance.

Hungry and possessive, it was not the gaze of a gentleman, but an outlaw, a crook, a man who took what he wanted.

She lifted the hem of her skirt a little higher, revealing more than just her ankles, but the slim curve of her calves. Her eyes left his for small intervals, on the crowd and the pianist, before landing back on him. Her broad smile shrunk, not the showy grin, but something more inviting and playful.

And perhaps she should have hung up the dress that night and never returned, but she couldn’t force herself to stay away.

Maria’s first mistake was leaving her window open.

Her second was falling asleep at her writing desk.

Her third was thinking she’d be safe from invaders.

“Such a pretty city girl, tell me, did you expect to acclimate as well as you have?”

Maria jolted, her hand crumbling the half written letter in her hand, her other covering her chest as she turned to the man lounging in her window. “The Rogue Rascal.”

He smirked, “You catch on quick.”

Maria stood, her curls falling over her shoulder, the loose neck of her night gown sliding across her collarbones. “What do you want?”

“Only what I can’t have.”

Maria further fisted the paper in her hand. A letter from Will, telling her he had decided to come, that his father was allowing him to scout the area for potential business. Maria wanted to tell him no, to stay in New York, that there were no opportunities out here, but she knew that was not the reason he was coming. He would come and ask for her hand again, and then what would become of her?

He would make her give up her secretary work, and he would hate that she was dancing, and very soon the joy and bliss she had found would be snuffed out.

“You must want for much.” Maria said, her voice shaking. “For such a hefty price to be placed on your head.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard I made quite the reputation for myself.”

Maria narrowed her eyes, “You sound too proud of yourself.”

“To be the most elusive thief? The most desired; you must know what that feels like yourself.”

“I have no idea what you speak of.”

His eyes trailed down her body, the thin chemise that she had taken to wearing over her wool nightgowns. “Red suits you, y’know, though I think I much prefer this.”

Maria blushed, stepping behind her chair to cover herself. “That’s enough, that is hardly appropriate-”

“Oh whoever said you and I were appropriate company? We both know you’re no proper lady anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean I will allow you to treat me like a whore. If that’s what you’ve come for-”

He rose his hands up in surrender. “Well I’d never!” He put a hand over his heart, “I don’t know what kind of man you think I am, but I’m not here to let you compromise me!”

“Me compromise you?” Maria asked incredulously, her hands on her hips. “You listen-”

“No, no, no! I know you city types only want one thing, and you will not be getting that from me!”

“Then-” Maria bit her tongue, his eyes glimmered with humor. “What are you here for?”

The Rogue Rascal held out his hand. “A night you won’t forget, more than just dancing on stage so men can oggle you.”

“And-” Maria swallowed thickly, “And you won’t-?”

He lifted a brow, waiting for her.

“Do anything untoward?”

“The only untoward thing I’m doing is standing in a room unchaperoned.”

“Turn around.” Maria said.

“So you can bash me on the head with a bed warmer? No, I think not.”

“So I can dress!”

His eyes ran up and down her body.

“You’re insufferable.”

“No, I’m wanted.”

Maria couldn’t help the smile as it broke over her face.

She rushed around her room, pulling on a walking skirt, and buttoning a blouse over her bosom, she had no time for replacing her proper undergarments, and she felt as if they didn’t matter. Her hesitation only lasted a moment. After all, what was he doing this for? But as Maria took his hand, and he led her towards the window, she saw the light of mischief in his eye. Young and wild, just as she was, not evil or vengeful, but full of a simple want.

To have fun.

He took her into the hills surrounding the town, she was forced to sit side saddle in front of him, but somehow she didn’t mind. She looked out across the coarse land, softer under the moonlight, untouched by men’s hands, and perfectly beautiful. A silver river coarsed its way just beyond the hills, snaking around the town, which is why they settled there as opposed to anywhere else. Bats flitted across the moon, she heard the far off howls of coyotes, and when he howled back, more and more rose to the occasion filling the night with their music. He showed her the stars and the constellations, and told her made up stories about each. Which she countered, as she knew the true stories of the stars.

He pulled out his gun, and showed her how to use it, because there were more dangerous crooks than him out there. He lit a fire when the night air grew to be too cold, and he told her stories of his escapades.

“Why did you kidnap me?” Maria asked, her knees pulled to her chest, a tired smile playing at her lips.

“Kidnap you?”

“Yes, well, you snuck into my room, whisked me away-”

“But you came oh so willingly.”

“Yes, but I never would have come of my own accord.”

“Well, I suppose- I reckon- I wanted to understand you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. How such a proper lady could fit in so well here. Belong.”

“You think I belong here?”

He nodded, “Takes others a long time to get used to the abrasive nature of the west, but you came in, and it was like you were meant to be here.”

“Maybe I was. The expectations of New York can be stifling.”

“And, here?”

“Here.” Maria closed her eyes, “Here, I’m as free as the stars in the sky, and I shine as brightly as the moon above, and when I howl, someone howls back.”

“So that Will guy-?”

The crackling of the fire met her ears, and as she leaned, something soft came to catch her. “He won’t howl back.”

When Maria opened her eyes, the logs were ash, the sun was climbing in the sky, and a strong pair of arms were wrapped around her.

She gasped, looking up at the face of the Rogue Rascal, softened by his dreaming, Maria reached up and pulled the black mask down. She ran the tips of her fingers over his face, careful not to wake him, but he was a light sleeper. He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Not a bad way to wake up, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

He chuckled, “I’m not mad about it.”

“We should go, I- I should go home-”

“Too late for that, just stay with me.”

Maria sat up, his arms encircling her waist and he pulled her closer to him, until she was almost on his lap. “My Uncle will be very cross, and- and I think I’m getting rather cross with myself, and-”

“Alright, alright, don’t blow a gasket, I’ll take you back.” He reached up, pulling at the curl near her temple. “You’re as pretty as the dawn.”

She blushed, but before she could make any sort of comment, he sat up, and collected himself, helping her onto his horse, he got up behind her.

They had to be careful about coming back into town, and Maria said she would get off and enter herself, but he disagreed. That would ruin her precious reputation, and despite where they were, they both knew that little thing still had a hold on everybody.

What Maria had not anticipated was an ambush.

Though, perhaps an ambush was the wrong word.

As the Rogue Rascal stopped behind her house, just underneath her window, they heard the cocking of the shotgun.

“You were foolish for showing your face here again.” Benjamin said, his face contorted in anger as he aimed at the Rogue Rascal’s face.

“Uncle, please-”

“Maria, get behind me, are you alright? What did he do?”

Maria began shaking her head, but behind her, the Rogue Rascal put his hand against her lower back and pushed.

In a flash, Digweed came around from the other side, forcing the outlaw’s hands behind his back.

“No! No, stop it! Let him go!” Maria protested, but her Uncle grabbed her arm, stopping her from acting. The Rogue Rascal did little to fight back, and as Benjamin threw Digweed a pair of iron handcuffs, he met Maria’s eyes. He was not afraid, but resigned, as if he knew this would happen.

Maria was forced to be dragged away, as the Rogue Rascal was escorted to the town jail.

Maria knew she had to do something.

The hanging was set for Friday at noon, there was nothing her Uncle could do, as he was committed to keeping the law. She had asked, any chance she had, and he had asked, any chance he had, if Robin De Noir, the true name of the Rogue Rascal, had anything to her.

“No, he did nothing.” Maria said.

“No, there’s nothing to be done.” Benjamin said. “I am sorry, Maria.”

He tapped her chin, and smiled, before leaving her.

But, that only meant that Maria had to do something. Perhaps she was the only one who could do anything, but no. The image flashed across her mind, of the three other men who were in the saloon with Robin, whoever they were, surely they could help.

Maria did not dance that night, and inside, waited in the back, looking for those men and once they came in, she swooped down upon them.

They accused her of being the one who trapped Robin, that she had acted as bait, and before they could swear her off, she convinced them that all she wanted was to save Robin.

“I cannot allow myself to be the reason for his death, please? There is so little time left.”

The three men looked at each other.

“Alright, but it’ll be our plan, missy, and you’re gonna listen and follow our orders, understand?”

“Yes! Yes, thank you!”

Maria never would have believed that she would ever be in the position she found herself in.

The morning of the hanging, Maria donned a red and black dress, securing a veil over her eyes, and brought with her several of her belongings. Spare clothes, the red saloon dress, and her mother’s pearls, stuffed into a small bag she’d later stash in a saddle bag.

The plan was brilliant, though it had not been hers, all that was required as a gun, and that was all too easily hidden in her skirts.

The gallows were as lazily constructed as the train station, and creaked each time the executioner paced across them, an old ratty braid hung past the black hood. A dust-covered man brought his horse a bit too close to the gallows, and when Maria went up to tell the man it was not the best place for an animal, as he may get spooked, she tucked her belongings into its saddlebag. Another man hobbled close to Benjamin on a long, battered crutch.

Benjamin read aloud the charges levied against Robin De Noir, the Rogue Rascal, and he was escorted out onto the platform by Digweed. A noose was tightened around his neck. His eyes met Maria’s across the sea of people, a dare.

She could not help but smile in turn.

The executioner turned, his hand taking hold of the lever, the cattle herder ushered his horse through the crowd, and the cripple planted both feet firmly on the floor as Maria cocked the gun in the folds of her skirt.

In a flash, or perhaps a bang, the executioner turned, wrapping his arms around Digweed, the cattle herder slapped the rear of the horse, sending it galloping forward, and the cripple used his crutch to bar Benjamin from moving forward as Maria aimed her pistol at the hanging rope.

Maria tossed the gun, gathered her skirts in her hand and ducked under the crutch as it went up, she weaved her way through the crowd as Robin leaped from the gallows, levitating for just a moment before landing on the saddle. The horse reared, longing to go forward, but Robin didn’t allow him, as he tugged at the reins and waited for Maria to meet him. He held out his hand for her to take, and she launched herself onto the horse behind him.

The cattle herder and the executioner did their best to part the frenzied crowd, giving them a path to escape, to the wild, to freedom.

Maria had no intentions to become a criminal or an outlaw, and in fact her one crime would be misfiring a pistol into a crowd, but Robin had been right. She had been tame, she had been gentle, but she was made for this world. She belonged under the stars, not confined to city life. She was no crook, not the way Robin and his band of outlaws were, but she was fearsome in her own way.

Besides, who would be afraid of little old Maria Merryweather?

#tsom #the secret of moonacre #moonacreweek2024 #maria merryweather #robin de noir

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marcskywalker · 2 years ago

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if you ever wanted to have a worse ending to destiel, imagine the au where cas is saved from the empty by some or the other details, that's not the important part here, but he comes back fully human

he's scared... moves tentatively around Dean. He never meant to face Dean after confessing his feeling and now he doesn't know what to do with himself.

He gets cornered in the kitchen one day; green eyes piercing into him as he staunchly focuses on his coffee.

"Are you taking it back?"

"What?", it's a losing game, of course he looks up.

"What you told me that day; that you...", Dean looks away,

the game is getting frustrating and he doesn't even know what game it is they're supposed to be playing

"Do you regret what you told me? Tell me if you're taking it back."

They're finally looking at each other; Cas finally sees his glossy eyes and clenched jaw and

he was never strong enough to fight dean, even as an angel. and now that he is achingly human? it's always been a losing game

there is a kitchen counter and a coffee cup between them; but dean's jaw fits so well in his palms and dean's nose fills the slots in his face that he never knew were empty. all the evolution he's seen and all the knowledge in his cosmic being and he still doesn't know how to describe the way dean tastes

dean and cas are insufferable around the bunker since then. They're attached at... everything. Constantly holding hands, giving eo kisses, petting eo's hair. Sam would be throwing up if he wasn't so happy for them.

Dean made the mistake of buying Cas a cactus ONCE and now Cas is a plant mom, there is a new pot popping up every other day.

Cas finds Dean random job openings around the area, jobs that he thinks Dean will be interested in. What caught Dean's attention was the one at the bakery. dean doesn't think he'll be offered the position since he's not that great at baking but Cas manages to convince to at least TRY. Cas helps him fill out the application form and nudges him into calling the old lady and setting up an interview date.

Things are going slow, but once in a while Sam will bring a case. Something simple and easy; to get them out of the bunker for a while.

It's on one such hunt, where Cas had gone off to visit Claire (Dean and Sam would've joined him after the hunt) that Dean gets rammed into a rusty nail.

"SAM!", his eyes are wild, "Sam,"

"I don't want to die. Tell him," his brother's skin is fading to a pale tone that is so so unfamiliar on his face but Sam has no doubt who Dean is talking about, "Tell him I'm sorry." "No," God no, this just isn't fair, "You'll tell him that yourself." "Sam," blood in his mouth, despair in his eyes, "Tell him I'm sorry. I wanted to give him more. I-" There is a sob choking on someone's throat, neither of them are sure to who it belongs. "I want to give him more love."

#destiel #idk what this is #word vomit

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out-and-aboot-eh · 4 months ago

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Day 1: Southampton to Calgary

True, we didn’t fly from Southampton, but that is where our adventure began. After using the ever reliable Whitehouse Senior taxis to drop us off at the coach station, we embarked on the slightly less reliable National Express service, which was running late! Fortunately we still had plenty of time for such delays and on the plus side it gave me ample opportunity (much to Georgie’s horror) to sprint to West Quay for a whizz, as the bloody skin flints wanted 20p for the pleasure and didn’t even take card!

Our chariot arrived, aka the 103 to Heathrow and got us there without too much bother. Check in and baggage drop off went fairly smoothly, other than a bit of label confusion which must have been alright as our baggage made it. Our next port of call was The Prince of Wales for a spot of lunch and the obligatory airport pint. We moseyed on down to Gate 19 and boarded the West Jet flight to Calgary. Growing up the idea of a flight over two hours seemed like the dullest thing going, but as an adult there is something very enjoyable about siting down for 8 hours knowing there’s nothing you can do other than eat, drink, watch movies and play trivia games! Plane line food gets a lot of stick, or at it least it used to in 90s comedy, but we were looked after very well with drinks and snacks and unbelievably I opted for the vegetarian option of the spinach and ricotta tortellini (not the shepherds pie) and quite believably had a glass of white at most opportunities! Shout out to my friend Jen who works for the airline and got us some of the good booze they serve ‘up front’ instead of that swill they serve in the cheap seats - served inconspicuously in coffee cups.

After getting a couple of mug shots taken, we exited the airport and jumped in an Uber, with a driver who clearly lives life on the edge as his fuel light was pinging away throughout the journey. We arrived at our hotel around 4.30pm, which gave us enough time for a quick shower and reset ready to meet our group at 6pm. We did an ice breaker and from memory/referring to WhatsApp, we’re a group of 12, with a split of 3 lads and 9 lasses, plus our CEO (chief experience officer, not tour guide, Megan!) There’s one other couple; Marcus and Christina from Germany who are here on their Honeymoon! From old Blighty we’ve got Hannah, Daisy, Katherine and Iain who is the only bachelor in camp! Mikaela, Christine and Eliza from Oz and Cat from New Zealand. Ranging in ages from 39 down to 19, which made a few of us choke on our dinners last night when she said she was born in 2005! We went to The Cactus Lounge, which had an extensive menu that left many of us pondering our choices for sometime. Being the sophisticated traveller that she is G opted for sushi, whilst I opted for the equally sophisticated chicken tenders and ranch sauce, a local delicacy at said eatery! And better still, they have cider in Canada, or at least in Calgary, which hasn’t always been the case on our travels. Our group was divided across two tables and despite the impending tiredness we managed to chat the evening away, getting to know each other a bit more, although we all know the real juice doesn’t come out until somebody (my money’s on Iain) suggests the ring of fire!

Whilst the rest of the group called it a night around 9:45pm, I’d pre-warned G that we had one more stop to make, the Irish pub Jimmy Joyce. It wasn’t my heritage or love for a pint and jig that took us there, it was a lovely lady called Jen who I’d met travelling in Oz some 8 years ago! It was great to have a catch up and see her in her homeland, even if it was brief and we were slowly descending into madness from being awake for so long! Had I realised just how close we’d be we could have reversed our trip and finished in Calgary, but there’s no use in crying over spilt maple syrup!

We said our farewells to Jen with promises of putting her up and a trip to Ireland next time she’s our way. We ambled back to our bedroom, which was already pretty nice but will feel like the Ritz compared to camp life, but that’s what we signed up for! And as the welcome speech stated, we’re the only smelly things allowed in our tent!

Georgie’s highlight of the day: Meeting Jen! Mini toiletries were a close second!

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hmsimicollection · 5 months ago

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Becky vs. the Magic Stench: A Floral Fairytale Gone Funky

Alright, folks, gather 'round for a tale of misfortune, flowers, and a very questionable odor. This is the story of Becky, the sweetest, poorest girl this side of the Mississippi (and probably the other side too). Becky was stuck in a situation that would make even a cactus wilt: no job, no parents, and two younger sisters depending on her.

School? Fugeddaboutit. Becky was pounding the pavement faster than a lost flip flop, application after application getting denied like free samples at a health food store. Just when despair threatened to turn her hair into tumbleweeds, she stumbled upon an old lady selling flowers. This wasn't your average flower granny, though. No floral fanny packs here. This lady had a twinkle in her eye and a secret stash of stories that could rival your grandma's recipe box.

Fast forward a few sniffles and shared sunflower seeds, and Becky and the flower lady (let's call her Ms. Petal, because that's just delightful) are practically BFFs. Sadly, Ms. Petal gets a case of the sniffles that even a bouquet of lilies couldn't cure. So, Becky steps up, takes the flower cart by the handle, and starts slinging posies like a petal-powered pro.

One gloomy Tuesday, a mysterious woman with a mischievous glint offers Becky a deal that sounds ripped from a B-movie script. Wear this totally not suspicious shirt for 41 days straight, nonstop, and WHAM! Instant riches! Becky, desperate as a fly trapped in honey, throws caution (and hygiene) to the wind and dons the shirt.

Now, let me tell you, 41 days without a wash is enough to make a skunk faint. Becky smelled like a forgotten gym sock marinated in week-old fish. But hey, gotta suffer for riches, right?

Finally, the 41st day dawns, and Becky, with the gag reflex of a champion, peels off the shirt. Brace yourselves, folks, because this is where things get weird. Her house transforms into a mansion straight out of a fever dream, and Becky along with her sisters – poof! – turn into princesses! Talk about an olfactory glow-up!

News of the stench-to-staunchest transformation spreads faster than gossip at a hair salon. Before Becky can say "deodorant commercial," she's invited to the fanciest shindig in town, thrown by the richest dude around.

And that, my friends, is how Becky, the once-broke flower girl, found herself surrounded by caviar and canapés, all thanks to a questionable shirt and a whole lot of determination (and maybe a hefty dose of Febreze). So next time you're feeling down on your luck, remember Becky. Remember the stench. Remember that even the smelliest situations can blossom into something beautiful. Just maybe take a shower first.

Positive spin with a relatable anecdote:

This lighthearted story of Becky reminded me of the importance of perseverance! Sometimes the path to success can be a little unorthodox (and smelly!), but if we keep pushing forward, we can achieve great things. Who has a story of overcoming a challenge in an unexpected way?

Becky's story reminds me that sometimes the most valuable skills we learn aren't in a textbook. Her determination and ability to build relationships (with the flower lady and the mysterious woman) were key to her success. What unexpected skills have helped you in your career?

Becky's journey is a hilarious reminder that success can be smelly. But hey, if it gets you a mansion and a title, maybe a little BO is worth it? What are you willing to do to achieve your goals? (Besides wearing a magical shirt for 41 days, hopefully!)

#humor #careergoals #lifelonglearning #softsskills #persistence #entrepeneurlife #motivation #careerdevelopment #shopping #buynow #clothing

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justagalwhowrites · 7 months ago

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okay firstly NO I DIDNT KNOW THERE WAS AN OFFICIAL PLAYLIST BUT IM FR IN LOVE WITH IT THANK U FOR UR GENIUS

secodly, sorry all i have is a list and a yt link but unforch one of the songs isnt on spotify 😭

thirdly, unofficial official flugazi yearling ost:

love, love, love - the mountain goats; when he saw his face reflected in his victim's twinkling eye, some things you'll do for money and some you'll do for fun but the things you do for love are going to come back to you one by one

goodbye to old missoula - willis alan ramsey; clouds hang on the mountain, they make me lonesome inside, and these four walls surround me leaving nowhere to hide

all the gold in california - brother marshall & the choir of fire; yes the acapella version from the silly danny mcbride show because it's so vibes so aesthetic so yearling

when a man loves a woman - marcus king; the version that only exists on youtube because marcus king hates me personally and won't put it on a streaming service

i ride an old paint - colter wall; when i die take my saddle from the wall, place it on my old pony, lead him out of his stall, tie my bones to the saddle, turn our faces to the west, we'll both ride the prairie that we love the best

plain to see plainsman - colter wall; let me die in the country that i love the most, i'm a plain to see plainsman and this i will boast, my heart it lies far from the east or west coast

can i take my hounds to heaven - tyler childers; if i can't take my hounds to heaven, if i can't hunt on god's land, i'd rather load mt dog box up and go to hell with all my friends

some days - sturgill simpson; i'm getting pretty tired of sittin' around and wasting time, and i'm tired of taking blame when i ain't done nothing wrong, i'm tired of other people trying to take what's mine, and i'm tired of y'all playing dress up and tryna sing them old country songs

northeast texas woman - jerry jeff walker; those texas ladies are texas gold, kisses sweeter than cactus, takes no practice to love

jamestown ferry - charley crockett; she had a soothing southern drawl, made me feel like a man through it all

you never even call me by my name - leann rimes; i hc that bambi used to get mad at bars when this played and no one did the "LET ME LET ME LET ME" part of the chorus and the leann rimes ver. is the one where you can hear it the most 😭

sounds like the radio - zach top; people call me a walkin' talkin' jukebox, i keep the hits spinnin' non-stop / they say honky tono heroes go to heaven you know, maybe that's why everyone wants to go 'cause it sounds like the radio back in '94

on youtube: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbbBB_mPYjYrO4sRPE2Oj3pxUIy3lp3CI&si=FQX5mL-ndOCaEYv5

love u bunches + follow up discussion topic: BAMBI FC????

HI BESTIEEEEEEEE!

AHHHH I love these!!! And I love that you're invested enough to make a playlist. I hope you're loving the fic!!!

As far as FCs, below the cut :D

I see Bambi as a fairly tough but still feminine looking woman, one with fairly large, brown eyes. I usually picture her as Kiera Knightly

Or Anne Hathaway

I feel like she kind of looks sweet at first glance (and I think tends toward more kindness and caring by nature than her reality allows - as a ranch hand before and the apocalypse now) but then has a lot of bite to her. She's in her early 40s for every part of the fic that's not a flashback but I feel like she's aged pretty well and looks a bit younger than she actually is. Not drastically but I think most people would put her at like 37 instead of 42 if guessing her age.

Curious to know who you picture!! Love you!!!!!

#send asks #kit answers #yearling

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thic-cryptid · 2 years ago

Text

Homebound 78

“It’s an empty box?” He asked, looking up at Izzy as if this were a cruel prank.

“It’s a signal blocker. I know you have that fancy keyless car, which are easy as hell for people to steal.”

“Oh! I never thought about that,” Stede said, standing so he could hug Izzy over the table. “How thoughtful of you! This is a wonderful gift!”

“Yo, check out my new hat!” Jack called, pointing to Izzy’s gift, which of course he’d already put on. “Not you ladies though!”

“I’m not your teacher anymore,” Izzy’s mom said, pulling his hand away so he could no longer block it. She chuckled before releasing his hand.

“What did it say, Hannah?” Kai asked, closing the book.

“Catchin’ bass and eating ass,” she laughed, “It has the Bass Pro logo.”

“That goes perfectly with my gift,” Ed said, pushing an unwrapped shirt toward Jack.

He unfolded it and held it up to his chest.

“I’m Guy Fieri and your ass is Flavortown?” Stede asked, tilting his head.

“It’s a show!” Ed whisper yelled, “Anyway, your gift was too awkward even if I wrapped it, Stede, so I have to get it from the closet. In the meantime.”

He passed around the rest of the presents. Izzy smiled at the silly gag gift Ed handed him, a Danny DeVito mug.

Ed hurried back with Stede’s gift, an old fashioned record player.

“Aw, you remembered,” he whispered.

“Everything sounds better on vinyl.”

Stede looked like he was going to cry. Izzy wasn’t really sure what they were talking about, but he gave them their moment.

“Alright, time for dinner.”

“Wait! I brought gifts too!” Jack said, standing up.

“You really didn’t have to do that, you’re a guest.” Kai argued even as Jack passed both of them new coffee mugs. “Thank you, Jack.”

“This is so nice. I’m going to use it for my sleepy time.” Izzy’s mom said with a smile.

“I’ll give the rest of you gifts later,” Jack said awkwardly. “I wouldn’t want to hold up dinner.”

“I too have gifts for everyone,” Stede said before either of the women could argue once again that they weren’t too old for whatever joke gift Jack had gotten for everyone else. “Hannah, Kai, I made both of these for you.”

“We took a silk dying class over the summer.” Ed explained, his mother touching the fabric very delicately. “Before we left Cali, he asked me what your favorite colors were so he could make you both a scarf.”

“How thoughtful, dear, thank you.”

“I know you’ve always loved silk,” Izzy’s mom said to Kai, leaning close so that they could feel each other’s new scarves. “This is lovely.”

“Here, this is for you, Izzy!”

“There better not be a tarantula in this,” Izzy rasped, drowning at the holes in the plain, brown box.

“Even better!” Stede declared, which wasn’t promising. Izzy opened the box very carefully.

It was a small cactus.

“You put a cactus in a box?” He teased.

“Well, I couldn’t just hand it to you! I’m not as cool as Ed, I have to wrap everything g. I put holes in it though, so it could breathe!”

“Stede, you’re so weird,” Ed said fondly.

“I got you something that you desperately need but won’t buy yourself,” he explained, handing him a perfectly wrapped gift.

Ed tore it open, revealing a daily planner. “I hate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Stede said, kissing his cheek before turning to Jack. “Sorry, I have to email you the code. I know that’s not very exciting, but I assure you, you will adore the gift I’ve purchased for you!”

“Alright, let me type my email into your phone.” Jack said, taking it as Kai got up to go get the latkes.

Page 78

Weekly AO3 Recap

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#homeboundsmau #ofmd smau

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lazodiac · 8 months ago

Text

And onto part 3, where we resume...

MULTICOLOUR

Fresh from her ruined wedding back in Innistrad: Vampire Wedding, Olivia does what any rich socialite does; she abandons her geriatric husband and goes on vacation. The people of this plane ADORE a good dancer and Olivia does so love to dance, and all she wants is all of their money and blood- something they're more than willing to give.

So yeah. Olivia's doing fine.

Stella Lee is another Atiin lady- and, notably, I fogot briefly that she does show up in the story! She specifically meets Gisa and Geralf in Prospector's Bluff, the massive graveyard/treasure storage area of various gangs along the plane.

In that story there's a vibe that she is someone we are supposed to know, in that she kinda recognizes Geralf to some degree, and has some recognition of what a Stitcher is and how they might need angel blood, which she has on her person as a medicine she bought. A mysterious lady, I hope she shows up again.

She's also a lesbian, has a lucky magic trinket she found on this plane, and hates being called short. She kinda rules.

Yuma is the most important card in all of this entire set because he's magics first trans man! Hell yeah! He's also the first story we get of Thunder Junction, and it is 1000% perfectly in the vibe of the old west- a story he is telling you, the reader, about how he came here and what this plane means.

Yuma himself is from New Capenna, a former Riveteer gangster that went independent with his queer friend group who paid for his transition. Life was good, until it wasn't, and then he ended up here. Found a cactus baby, and it kinda changed his life.

Yuma is wonderful, and the feelings I felt when Alesha got her story of names must be what it's like for trans-men to see him here, now, finally. Incredible stuff.

Eris here is, seemingly, a stormkin from Magic Coreset 2020... a coreset that has no attached plane, womp womp.

That being said, given her vibe and the way her lightning looks, I think she's gotta be from Tarkir, right?

FELIX FIVE-BOOTS is... a card that I do genuinely find funny, but also feel like is the biggest "proof" towards Thunder Junction being too comedic. This isn't a villain, this isn't even a character, it's a "what is the funniest amount of shoes a single being could have, that would be alliterative with a name?"

That said this card is 100% from Muraganda, he looks identical to the slimes we've seen from there.

Baby baby baby bababy bababby baby baby

This is Yuma's cactus baby, and he is wonderful and good and perfect and I love him look at this tiny little cactus baby. Kirrir is native to the plane.

Vihaan is a well dressed fellow for a dwarf, and his means of robbing banks is hilarious. He's from Kaldheim, which is shocking given how dwarves from there tend to be, but it's important to know dwarves in nordic mythology are actually more clever trickster than barbarian.

This Viashino is, somehow, a Sterling made-man... and I think that makes him from New Capenna.

And that's it for all the multicoloured cards! Quite a lot of to-do with these, but I had fun. I hope you all did too. Now, lets look at the numbers!

Arcavios 1

Alara 1

Atiin Plane 7

Eldraine 4

Fiora 2

Gastal 1

Innistrad 6

Ixalan 3

Kaladesh 2

Kaldheim 1

Kamigawa 1

Muraganda 1

New Capenna 5

Obeka's Plane 1

Oko's Plane 1

Ravnica 6

Shandalar 1

Tarkir 2

Thunder Junction 12

Zendikar 2

As one would expect, Multicoloured has the most variety amongst the people, though still focusing on Innistrad, New Capenna, and Ravnica- the three plans seemingly closest to New Capenna based on stuff we've seen story wise. Neat how that works!

Next time... colorless!

ONCE MORE, we delve into the plane of Thunder Junction, in our attempt to figuring out what each plane each card is from.

Last time we finished all the monocolour cards, and you can find all of those here. I'll also been including a villainy score for Oko's gang, to see how much they count as villains... and in retrospect wish I'd done that for all the legends, since this is a VILLAIN set. Call that a project for another day...

For now though, let us enter into the wild, wild world of...

MULTICOLOUR

We open off with a big one- Akul the Unrepentant! The main antagonist of the story, a PERFECT black-hat western villain- he is fierce and evil and SMART but also you can bait him with the right words and at the end of the day he's just a right bastard with a gun. An honestly pitch-perfect villain for a villain set.

The way his scorpion mandibles make a cowboy hat silhouette, his gun-stinger tail and his fire breathing claws, he is a perfect example of what a Scorpion Dragon is and how strongly it fits the aesthetic of the plane.

But we've been told all the Scorpion Dragons are from Gastal, an obscure plane from Urza's Planeswalker novel, so they're from Gastal. I hope we go there one day and learn what that plane is like beyond its very sparse appearance elsewhere.

Annie Flash! Our first member of Oko's gang to rob Akul! She's Atiin so from the Atiin Plane, and is the only Atiin that shows up in story. We learn from her stories that her people are still out there wandering, while some settled in Thunder Junction.

Among them her nephew, who Akul afflicted with tuberculosis with his stinger (it's some kind of dark curse but given how it is described it's absolutely TB, a fitting disease for the time period). He left to join his people, because staying in bed all day half asleep from medicine is worse than suffering while awake.

At any rate, she's retired to protect the town she's ended up in... and is threatened by Oko into helping take down Akul. On the villainy scale she is a fierce 0/10. I wish she'd just shot Oko in the head.

Annie Joins Up is one of a cycle- all of the major members of Oko's gaing gets little pieces like this. They're clearly part of one singular mural but we haven't been shown it and it makes me sad.

Given the context, I'm counting these cards as Thunder Junction original.

A strange, fascinating card, it's a sherrif's sterling silver star, radiating various creature spirits out of it. Given the form of magic at play I'm gonna say this is from Alara, since it resembles the Nacatl totem magic.

Hellspur Mercenaries holding, unfortunately, YOU at knifepoint. Good luck friend cause I'm out of here.

... okay I'll stay long enough to say it again; Hellspurs threw away all ties to their home planes to become dyed in the wool magma mutants. They're from Thunder Junction now. The predominance of glowing purple and dyed hair could imply these individuals are from Kylem, but I'm sticking to my thunder-guns here.

This is the only real indication that the cactus folk are "new" to the plane, despite having lived here for generations as non-sentient cacti. I don't really like this, but whatever. Native to Thunder Junction.

The Sterling Company's shiny leader, in the vampiric flesh. Given his style he's definitely from New Capenna. He doesn't show up in the story at all, but his presence is felt by the colonizing cops that he employs.

Big ol' Bonny Pall is our distaff counterpart to Paul Bunyan, the American lumberjack of old west mythology. She's even got a massive blue ox to help her out!

She's one of the giants from Eldraine, and if I could remember where I saw blue oxen on that plane I'd tell you to confirm it.

Everyone's favorite goblin-monkey, Breeches! A secondary member of Oko's gang, though in truth his loyalties lie with his captain, Vraska. His main goal in the story is blowing things up- as is his want- and showing us that he has more self control than Gisa does.

As far as villainy goes he's a soft 2/10. Nothing he does is inherently evil, the pirates of Ixalan (his home plane) are categorically the nicest faction present there, and ultimately he's only with Oko to help Vraska betray him.

Bruse Tarl! There's absolutely no reason he should be here in the villain set, but also he's a cattle rancher who is a fan favorite on a plane where ox and cattle are well known an aesthetic so of course he's here from Zendikar, having finally found some beasties that listen to him.

Fun fact; the four visible livestock on the card include Pillarfield Ox, Ox of Agonas, Vigor, and Bartered Cow. These cards won't add to the total, but are here and that's cool.

Also fun fact: according to the card crafting stories, this card was originally Strongarm from Lorwyn/Shadowmoor! Neat!

A cactus with a gun! Native to the plane, and my friend.

Gryff's are the wonderfully unique heron-hippogryffs of Innistrad, so this beautiful bird-beast is from there.

Who????? Who are you???? You have human hands but are otherwise completely just a bear man??? The only plane where ANYTHING like this even remotely exists is fucking Blobavia, in the Un-iverse? Who are you??? Why is there no legend article for this fucking set?!?!?

I have no fucking clue where this guy could be from, but the flavor text leans me towards Arcavios. This is some random bear druid man from Quandrix House.

Eriette, the Beguiler! She's one of the secondary members of Oko's gang, despite being ostensibly the first one recruited (or at least the first recruited on screen, by Jace-as-Ashiok). She is of course from Eldraine, and even has beef with Kellan, the newest member of the gang.

Beef that she puts aside! For the mission! Because her evil plan on Eldraine was "I will treat PTSD from the invasion by offering the chance to go to sleep forever, and will coincidentally get to rule the plane" which is like, not even THAT evil? It's misguided and kinda fucked up but not like, EVIL evil? And despite anger at seeing the DIRECT guy responsible for her defeat, she still buries the hatchet. This is like, a 1/10 on the evil scale.

Also there is the slightest, slightest implication she might have poisoned Oko at the end of the story. If she did she gets a "Nahiri did nothing wrong" modifier.

This delightfully cheery grandma is from Zendikar, and is doing what she does best: climbing stuff! She's a new character as far as I can tell so we know nothing about her otherwise, but she's survived the Eldrazi and the Phyrexians and is still smiling so she's okay in my book.

Notably, she does get some fun flavor text on other cards.

The flavor text feels at odds with the vibe of what formring a posse would be- normally this sort of gearing up of the locals would be to fight AGAINST the Sterlings coming in and taking the entire plane, but I digress.

The specific sort of decorations of the town and the people involved feel Atiin to me, but I think I've gotta give this to Thunder Junction proper.

Ghired is a fascinating character to me, because he's shown up before and despite doing so still has no real character and has not contributed to any of the stories he's in. Which is a shame because he's one of the best concepts they've ever come up with, from the best plane they've ever made; he's someone on Ravnica who left one Guild to join another!

This Selesnyan shaman turned to the Gruul Clans after witnessing Illharg, the biggest of the big pigs, rise from the primal earth of the plane! Despite joining the Gruul he still has a Selesnyan connection to wildlife, and on a fully untamed plane like Thunder Junction he is THRIVING. It's so cool! He should do stuff!

It's time for a controversial legendary! It's the Gitrog monster, freshly done being Thalia's steed during the Phyrexian Invasion. He's bullfrogged his way tot Thunder Junction, and now people want to turn this one cult inspiring hypnotoad into just another wild and wacky horse to ride.

I get it. I get why people find this to be a discrediting of the Gitrog from fearsome monster to funny creature, but it honestly works? Innistrad is a plane of horrors, and what happens to horror media when it recurs? It reduces, with each iteration. The best horror film franchises start and end at one, maybe two if you're lucky, and it only takes a complete and total revitalization and reimagining to fix it.

For now, Gitrog is a funny horse, but maybe one day he'll be the monster you remember from your nightmares.

A scam artist and swindler from Innistrad, Old Honest Rutstein is a surprising pull for the plane... and yet works perfectly, as snake-oil salesmen fit the old west aesthetic perfectly. Has many a fun flavor text in the set, and notably is NOT a hellspur. He's just got some fun glowy corn husks to play with.

Was the first card from the set teased as preview art before this story arc began.

The name is a reference to Misinformation Campaign, one of the best cards from Guilds of Ravnica, but mechanically it really is more like Dovin Baan's stupid planning and plotting card.

With that in mind, and given the... strange art, I'm saying this is from Ravnica.

Jem Lightfoote, with an e, is one of the Atiin, as her flavor text implies. This is all we know about her, other than her being delightful and probably fun at parties.

Jolene Jolene, please don't go punching my man into space. This... hilarious card showcases New Capenna's premiere boxing tough knocking a guy directly out of his boots, while her horrifically photo-realistic snorse niss's menacingly behind her.

Fun fact: her magical gauntlets, which she still has and you can tell because you can see them around her fists, lets her literally punch money out of people! Every hit knocks some gold out of them, made from their blood and life.

This is directly referencing a magical item from some actual play DND podcast that I'm blanking on the name of. Maybe The Adventure Zone?

Kambal, once the Consul of Allocation of Ghirapur, in Kaladesh, was ousted from his position following the revolution, replaced with Pia, Chanra's mother. Despite losing all of his actual political power, his underworld connections didn't consume him for failure, and he survived past the Phyrexian Invasion to go on to becoming the corrupt mayor of Prosperity.

The art of him makes it look like he, as the kids these day say, is "serving cunt" and I kinda adore it.

Kellan's join up card. Thunder Junction.

And here is Kellan proper! The erstwhile hero of the "omenpath" saga of magic story, this is the first time since Eldraine that he's actually mattered in any real capacity! Here, he finally manifests the last of his birthright, the fae magics of Oko's plane, but in his heart he's still the little shepherd boy from Eldraine.

Kellan's story honestly concludes so well that I'll forgive the somewhat lackluster middle portion. He's a sweet and innocent and perfect soul. 0/10 villainy score.

Kraum is Ludevic's Opus, his perfect creation, the pinnacle of his mad stitching science. He's like two dudes connected together who can fly through electromagnetic powers. Mad scientists are silly.

I adore that Ludevic cares this much about his apprentice though. Kraum never shows up in story, which is probably for the best, but it's really funny to imagine every scene Geralf is in just has a two headed lightning crackling Frankenstein just, off in the distance watching him.

Jaspar Flint is, apparently, a Hellspur, which I can kinda see from the mutations on his hands and chest, so I suppose he's from Thunder Junction. But also there's no Viashino out there that look like desert lizards, so I do wonder where he's from... my best guess is actually Gastal, for some reason.

Lazav, successfully convincing everyone on Ravnica of his death in defense of the plane, has decided to go solo mode. So much for him and Tezzeret's plane to take over Ravnica- not that that'd ever come to fruit given it's from a book everyone hates.

I really love the art for this card.

Lilah is the leader of the Slickshots, and notably while she doesn't show up in the story proper, the secret to her and her gangs success does; a magical tincture only she can make, that empowers her and her allies with a little extra oomph to their magic.

The best way to identify a Slickshot is through their magic, and thte specific green magic she's launching out of a strange, heart-shaped bottle, suggests to me that she's actually a witch from Eldraine.

The flavor text, plus the make and model of the thunder-gun on our would-be gunfighter's side, suggests this is Atiin to me.

And that's a total of thirty! So lets take a quick break and go to part 2 momentarily!

#Magic the Gathering #MTG #Outlaws of Thunder Junction #OTJ #white magic #blue magic #black magic #green magic #red magic #nerd stuff

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starsfic · 2 years ago

Note

Prompt - Antonio says his first swear. The rest of the family accuses one another for teaching him that. Turns out it was none of them; it was actually the dead fish lady.

It came with a clash of thunder.

"ISABELA MADRIGAL!"

Said Madrigal yelped, grabbing at her newest cactus as her tia loomed over her. This one was her baby, hand grown without magic. "Watch the rain! You'll drown them!"

"Do you think I care?! You taught Antonio a swear!"

Her eyes went wide with shock at the fact that Antonio, little Antonio, had sworn. But then Isabela pushed it down, more struck with disbelief at the accusation. The eldest grandchild slammed her hands on her hips and glared back at her redheaded tia. "How do you know it was me?! Mirabel could've taught him!"

Her sister, cradled under a small ceiling that Casita had formed the moment Pepa had stormed into the room, looked up from her latest sewing project. "Hey!"

"Mirabel once put herself into timeout when she said Miercoles in front of Antonio because she thought it was a swear," Pepa said, flashing a smile at her younger sobrina. She crossed her arms. "And remember your little performance yesterday?"

Daisies immediately blossomed to life in Isabela's hair.

To be fair, cussing out the boy who refused to take Dolores' "No." in the middle of the town square shouldn't have been the best way. But it got him to leave her alone. Plus, it had shut up everyone who had been whispering about missing the old Isabela. She scrambled. "Then...Bruno!"

"Tio Bruno thinks swearing is bad luck," Mirabel pointed out. "I think Camilo's a more likely suspect."

"Hey!" Camilo, holding a wooden spoon, poked his head in from the kitchen. "I wouldn't!" Pepa turned and he dropped the spoon to immediately hold up his hands in defense. "I swear, Mami! What about Tia Julieta!?"

"HEY!" Isabela and Mirabel shouted together, both faces flushing with anger in defense of their mother.

Camilo glared them back down. "It's true! Yesterday she cursed so much when she accidentally burnt her hand!"

A throat cleared. Julieta crossed her arms and stared down Camilo. "Yet I still let you help me in the kitchen." Another roll of thunder made her sigh. "Pepa, maybe ask your husband or Mama."

"What'd I do?" Felix stared at the mini thunderstorm. Behind him, Bruno and Agustin peeked in. All three must've just come back from grocery shopping, based on the produce they held.

"Antonio cursed," Mirabel explained.

Felix immediately held up his hands, dropping the basket of eggs he held. Nobody paid attention to them cracking. "Oh, no. Not me. I'm under threat of sleeping on the couch after what happened with Dolores." Nobody was willing to blame Dolores because... it was Dolores. And Luisa didn't even know how to curse.

A throat cleared and everyone turned. Alma Madrigal stared all of them down. "And, why," She turned to Julieta. "Would you turn it was me?"

Julieta held her stare. "The card game." Abuela blushed as Felix whistled in agreement and Pepa and Bruno nodded. The grandchildren blinked as Mirabel made a mental note to ask Bruno. "And Agustin...well he knows cursing is reserved for our room."

Her husband sputtered as Isabela made a face. "Kinky," Mirabel whispered and held up her hands at Abuela's look.

Pepa looked ready to burst. Lighting popped and fizzed and hit the wall, creating a small smoking crater that Casita immediately covered up. "Who then?! Who taught mi angel such vile words?!"

“It wasn’t any of them!”

All heads turned. Antonio, the very picture of innocence, stared down from the back of Parce. His eyes were wide and full of tears, upset at his mother's own upset. “It was the weird fish lady,” he said.

The thunderstorm shrank into itself almost sheepishly. “R-” Pepa’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Really, sweetheart?” She turned, ready to apologize to Isabela, when Antonio continued.

“Tio Bruno bumped into her yesterday and she called him-” What followed had to be the nastiest string of curses everyone in the Encanto had ever heard. Mirabel had to catch Abuela as she stumbled back, face pale at what had come out of Antonio’s little body. “Under her breath when he walked away!”

Silence.

Thunder sent everything shaking in the room. “...Isabela, mi flor, do you mind-”

Vines wrapped around her hands, creating gauntlets.

“Absolutely not.”

My Ko-Fi!

#my writing #fic #Encanto #Pepa Madrigal #Isabela Madrigal #Mirabel Madrigal #Camilo Madrigal #Julieta Madrigal #Felix Madrigal #Antonio Madrigal #Alma Madrigal #Agustin Madrigal #Bruno Madrigal #prompt fill #prompt fic

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soranihimawari · 3 years ago

Text

E ancora l’amava

(And still he loved her)

Warnings: none! unless you haven’t read where Kageyama currently plays…

Pairing: timeskip Kageyama x (Italian!f!)reader

Word count: TBD

Italy is not a bad place to live as one professional volleyball player deduces. His club is doing well in the European circuits, women and men flock to get his autograph after a successful home game, even the children in his neighborhood of all ages ask him to play a set or to watch their form. All in all, the country has been kind to Kageyama Tobio. From the food to the friendly neighbors he has, like the vecchia signora who dwells in the duplex next door, still making pasta by hand and the studente universitario who reminds him of a rival blonde snarky friend from his high school days, yes. Italy was the place for someone like him.

Ah, but circulating his flat, the setter finds little things that made this country better. For example, the small cactus which now has a flower blooming at the top, a stranger who moved to this city gave it to him at the mail room. The young lady says it’s a suitable plant for an on-the-go athlete like him. He blushes when you bid him good night. Again, they are side by side at the local caffettiera he frequents. Eventually, the staff who knows their regulars like family, starts preparing post workout morning drinks for him and for you. You tease him saying he can pay for the next one tomorrow if they run into each other.

“Coincidenza come questa devono essere opera dei destini,” you tell him.

In hindsight, he should have asked you to write what you said down because Kageyama still doesn’t understand the language very well yet. He’s able to get by this far with learning how to properly pronounce his coffee order and the few times he had to go to the grocery mart, he typically has a picture of what he needs and likes, all the while figuring out the various names of things he didn’t think he needed to know.

As the months go by, the season wraps up with him inviting his support team, comprised of the old lady next door who always makes more food than necessary, sharing it with him, the university graduate now, no longer a student, and of course, his coffee loving neighbor, you. You’re welcome to cheer his name as loud as you can, raising tour fist in the air every time he sets a successful spike. Not to mention, there’s a certain smug look on the setter’s face every time he picks out your voice in the arena. His teammates tease him enough after practice calling you his unofficially official lover.

Moving about the flat, Kageyama sees a lifetime of photos hung up on the wall—there are four people in a frame next to the photo of his sister and grandfather. All four people in that photo of are wearing official club jerseys with Kageyama’s name stitched on, a gift you provided when you first decide to go to the game Kageyama set aside tickets for. You are considered part of the trio who claimed to have made his tenure here a memorable one.

Atop the book case where his many accolades and one medal (the first of as many his career would let him have) decorate the shelves, is a present you decide to give him on his first Natale: you framed a black white and orange jersey and beneath it is a poster sized frame of the team Japan ruby one. How you hid that thing in your place he’ll never figure out. After all, being associated with the famed good looking setter for over a year and a half (if you count your run-ins and semi-casual coffee dates, it would be close to two going on three years now) does have its perks. Like how you know he takes his coffee, a whole lot of milk, like a caffè con latte, or how his favorite pasta will always be rigatoni because for the first week that’s all he was successfully able to make. Or how you know he can cheer you up after a rough day at your job with just a forehead kiss and hug; or how he takes you to his favorite spot in this city—the planetarium all because you called him, “la mia stella cadente” (Kageyama looked it up and he almost broke your door down trying to find out if you meant it). And finally when you watch him win the last big match he’d play for the season, you’re the first one he finds in the crowd of congratulators, cameras, and reporters only to pull you into his arms for a victory kiss stunning not only yourselves, but the media themselves. His teammates shake their heads laughing or cheering rather, because their setter finally decided to make a hell of a move.

Life gets a thousand times better now since you know why your neighbor from before the year is over was acting all weird as it was the same reason you seemed to have been acting more flirtatious recently. Thanks to whatever adrenaline high that possessed Kageyama, you stand to the side by him as the interviewers press him for more details from the game, but a few ask him about you and Kageyama Tobio replies in the best his Italian has ever sounded: “È la mia ragazza, ovviamente. E il mio più grande sostenitore. Sono fortunato ad averla.”

Some reporters turn to you as you introduce yourself with a broadening grin.

“Ha assolutamente ragione, e ovviamente non potrei essere più orgoglioso del mio ragazzo in questo momento,” you say as a short chortle is heard by the members of the media still taking photos of you two, placing a hand on his chest. He whispers something in your ear as the interviews wrap up and for the first time he formerly invites you on a date this forgoing the traditional post-game bar crawl with his team.

Kageyama places his workout bag softly against the couch where the television is still on. The train took a little longer to get back to this new place you spend more time in. You were watching a live action show about a ramen shop only open from midnight until seven in the morning; you were learning his mother tongue in hopes to impress his friends who were planning on visiting next month for his birthday. However, you curled into a ball with the blanket you brought over for a housewarming gift; your plant still thrives in the windowpane.

As stealthily as he can, Kageyama notices you’re dead asleep by this point in the night and decides to scoop you in his arms. You stir a bit before going back to sleep, stifling a yawn when he enters his room. You still cling to him gently when he presses his lips against the crown of your head all the while thinking how perhaps falling for you is the best thing to have happened while in Italy. With a tired body from traveling all day, he takes his place behind you, slowly falling asleep with his head tucked between your neck and shoulder. You wake to the sound of his breathing, whispering, “Benvenuto a casa, tobio.”

Italian to English translations:

vecchia signora: old lady

studente universitario: university student

Caffettiera: coffeehouse

Coincidenza come questa devono essere opera dei destini: coincidences like this must be the work of the fates

Natale: Christmas 🎄

La mia stella cadente: my shooting star

È la mia ragazza, ovviamente. E il mio più grande sostenitore. Sono fortunato ad averla: She is my girlfriend, of course. And my biggest supporter. I’m lucky to have her.

Ha assolutamente ragione, e ovviamente non potrei essere più orgoglioso del mio ragazzo in questo momento: He’s absolutely right, and obviously I couldn’t be more proud of my boyfriend right now.

Benvenuto a casa: welcome home

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #kageyama x y/n #sora’s 🚧 wips🚧#sora scribbles 2022

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misfit-fics · 3 years ago

Text

Demon Rehab For Dummies

Summary: (Y/N) started seeing seven demons when she was 10. Through the years they all disappeared, all but one. Namjoon. A demon who has not so creepily, creepily, very creepily been in love with her for years.

Genre: fluff, crack, extremely minimal angst, idiots to lovers, romantic-comedy

Word count: 7384

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of suggestive & kinky themes, a handful of cursing, a story with a plot but not doesn’t exactly have a plot, a stubborn (Y/N) who dismisses love confessions & genuine flirting, an unspoken confession

A/N: Hey! we're back, it's been a while. We're starting school in a while but it will be gamble if we'll be more active or not. Well... we ARE active but just not posting? Yeah, you know what I mean. This has been sitting in our drafts for a while now and we're posting it now... although it's pretty unedited, feel free to address any oopsies. Hope who ever finds this enjoys reading!

At the ripe young age of ten (Y/N) began seeing seven men. Which- would’ve (should’ve) freaked any kid out but you know (Y/N) is just kinda quirky like that so she didn't really mind much. The men were nice and played with her anyway, and the only weird thing was that sometimes they would bring her dead birds.

At age eleven (Y/N) noticed that one of the men was missing.It didn’t affect her much except for the fact that this particular one would help her find things and she’d lost almost all of her socks since he disappeared. Not to mention the increase of bug bites after he left. The darn things seemed like they multiplied exponentially after a month.

By twelve only two of the men had disappeared, at this point (Y/N) not only lived in sandals (she still couldn’t find her socks) but she also couldn’t explain why her hair was burning off every time she tried to straighten it (her lil demon friends didn’t want her to, you’d think after almost 3 years of having men following her around and telling her what to do she’d get with the program already.) Her dog her parents had given her when she was 9 started disappearing quite often after he left. He always came back with a single sock that would disappear the next morning.

By thirteen (Y/N) had developed a crush (more like unhealthy obsession) on one of the men, Namjoon. The third year was also the year when Jimin disappeared, taking all of her favorite shoes with him. That year she had prayed to whoever was listening because her parents really couldn’t afford to keep buying her socks and shoes, and because she definitely couldn’t afford to shave her head.

By fourteen, Hoseok, the man who had cheered her up whenever she needed it, had gone, leaving a tidal wave of bad luck in his wake. He had a great deal in keeping (Y/N) happy, although some of his antics made her want to punch him, it never turned out that way.

When she was fifteen no one left… except for the dog. Aside from that, the only thing that left was her social life (It wasn’t like she had one before but you know it was still a little rough). (Y/N) began to depend more and more on her demons. She had become great friends with the oldest, Seokjin, who cooked for her when her parents went on trips.

At sixteen Yoongi left and the nightmares began. And with the nightmares came the growth of (Y/N)’s relationship with Namjoon. Namjoon became her protector, along with sometimes Seokjin, who still cooked for her and cared for her altogether when she couldn’t.

At seventeen, (Y/N) was informed that when she turned eighteen Seokjin would be leaving, on account that they didn’t need each other anymore. (Y/N) had been torn up when he told her and even more when he left. He didn’t take anything when he left other than a piece of (Y/N)’s heart.

At eighteen, (Y/N) moved away from her parents house with Namjoon trailing behind her (He even had lil demon suitcases and everything,) following her every move.

“I really don’t understand why you had to follow me out of my parents house. I thought spirits are supposed to be attached to a general area…” (Y/N) took to unpacking a box in the small apartment she now lived in.

“(Y/N) how many times do we have to go over this, I'm a demon, DE-MON.” Namjoon clapped his hands with each syllable. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at the self-proclaimed demon.

“Demon, ghost, same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, “same thing as to-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“It is not the same thing!” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) like it was obvious.

(Y/N) snorted, “Okay Casper.” She continued pulling out the items in the box.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted, “CASPER!?” Namjoon put a hand over his chest and widened his eyes. (Y/N) looked up at the demon with a raised brow,

“Geez Casper, why are you so offended? I’ve called you Casper before, Casper.” (Y/N) struggled to keep in her laughter, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “I think I shall simply cease to exist in your realm.”

(Y/N) looked back down at the almost empty box, “You wouldn’t do that, you love me too much, my dearest Casper.” She said in a singsong voice, “Oh hey I found a sock.” She pulled out said sock from the box, it had yellow stripes. :]

“I think Jungkook took the mate to that when he left.” (Y/N) threw the sock at Namjoon with a loud ‘FUCK!’

“I mean we could try and summon him to see if he’ll return your socks.” Namjoon shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even try.” She started putting the random items in their new places.

“You should put Juno on the window sill rather than the coffee table, I mean cacti do need sun.” Namjoon looked at the little green prickle plant.

“I’m sure if i didn’t tell you how to parent your child, it would’ve been confiscated by child protective services.” Namjoon crossed his arms and looked at Juno who had been (rightfully so) moved to the window sill.

“Casper- Juno is a cactus. There is no CPS (Cactus Protective Services).” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with her own arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised, “Now if you could- Can you please go unpack a few boxes?” (Y/N) shooed Namjoon away before her eyes widened and she added in, “NOTHING LABELED FRAGILE!”

“You know if we painted a wall or two in here, it would liven up the place so much…” Namjoon looked around the bland apartment, “Maybe an accent wall over here. A floor lamp over there. A new plant in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt you to give Juno some siblings.”

(Y/N) looked flabbergasted, “You want me to pop out another child?!”

“No I mean-” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“-OUT OF MY WALLET?!? MY BARELY 21 DOLLARS!?” (Y/N) got her wallet out and zipped it open. She shook it in the demon’s face, about 26 pennies, 2 nickels, 1 dime, and a quarter fell out. It was followed by a single, folded, 5 dollar bill.

“I don’t think that’s 21 dollars, (Y/N)” Namjoon looked down at the floor, where one or more of the coins had caught onto his feet.

“I have a gift card.” She pulled out the cheap plastic, silver, $25 visa gift card (that didn’t have 25 dollars) with a bit of a struggle.

“How much exactly is on that gift card (Y/N)?” Namjoon eyed the flimsy silver object.

“You expect me to know- I mean probably more than 10 dollars!” Namjoon raised a brow at the statement. “Okay, maybe about 3.69.” Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. (Y/N) bent down to put the money back into her wallet like a pigeon eating bread crumbs the old lady on the bench threw onto the floor.

Namjoon walked away from the pigeon-girl and grabbed a notepad and pen that was left on the kitchen counter. “We’re making you a to-do list.” He stated, clicking the pen.

“WE haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet.” (Y/N) whined, pointing at the last large box in the middle of the hallway. Namjoon looked to where she pointed and shrugged.

“It says Christmas decorations.”

“EXACTLY! VERY. IMPORTANT.” she clapped her hands in between each word.

“It’s February.” He said.

“It’s still winter.” (Y/N) reasoned, finally done picking up the money. She plopped herself down onto the small brown couch.

“Okay so first off you need a job.” He wrote it down onto the notepad, the pen scratching being overlapped by a loud gasp from the human in the room.

“You dare ignore me?!” She yelled offendedly at the demon who glanced at her before looking back down at what he was writing.

“You also need to go to the supermarket.”

“I told you I barely have any money.”

“Your parents gave you some money.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“And also, you should walk to the school and find a short route to get there.” Namjoon pulled out a literal map.

(Y/N) pouted, “I thought you were gonna walk me to all my classes to deter all the frat boys from coming my way…”

“I did say that,” he confirmed before continuing. “But I mean to get to the actual school grounds.”

“But we have a car.” She had drawnout the ‘but,’ trying to make her point that she didn’t need to walk.

“But you need exercise.” He reasoned, mimicking the way she had said her words.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“(Y/N) i’m not.”

“Yeah you ARE, Casper.”

“Would you PLEASE call me by my actual name for once?”

“Sure thing. Rap Monster.” She teased, the ground started shaking. (Y/N) let out a loud screech looking up at the demon who’s eyes were rolled back. “OH FUCK YOU!”

The shaking died down, Namjoon staring down at the girl who was now underneath the coffee table. “This is why you’re still here!” she cried.

“You want me gone?” Namjoon questioned, offendedly. (Y/N) army crawled her way from her ‘safe spot.’

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” She yelled, returning the offended tone.

“I’m out,” Namjoon pivoted on his heel, walking to the front door robotically.

“Noooo!”

“Will I ever see my socks again?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with hope, “I mean having shoes would be great too though.”

“What’s wrong with living in sandals? Birkenstocks are very comfortable.” Namjoon pivoted around with a candle in his hand.

“It’s winter.” (Y/N) frowned.

“You could always use mine?” He gestured to the shoes at the shoe rack at the front door. The ones that were closed toed…

“Your feet are too big.” (Y/N) looked over at the shoes, then looked down at her own feet, then at the demon.

“Size didn’t matter Last night with your sweaters?”

“That’s different, Namjoon.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Size.” Namjoon smirked.

“Different.” (Y/N) stood confidently.

“You know, you could always just go buy new socks?” Namjoon looked at her oddly.

“I usually wait to get them for Christmas, you should know this by now.”

“Independence.” He stated.

“You’re a hypocrite.” Namjoon let out a ‘huh?’ and (Y/N) continued, “You said independence when you’re dependent on me.”

“That isn’t my fault.” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“It kind of is though…” (Y/N) shrugged, Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off, “I’m literally a rehab center for you.”

“Apparently you’re not a nicely rated one.” Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ve helped 6 other demons, Namjoon. You’re just being difficult.” (Y/N) poked his chest really hard before retracting her hand.

“Ouch,” he put his hand over his heart where she had poked him, “You shouldn’t be saying these things to your client.”

“I didn’t ask to get a client or even BE a rehab center.”

“The reason why you became a rehab center was because you decided that humans were ugly and disgusting.”

“The reason why you ended up with me was because you did something bad and you just now decided to be a good person and it’s not turning out well for you.”

“For your information, I could have left a long time ago.” Namjoon crossed his arms, with an audible exhale from his nose. He stared down at the rehab center.

“And why didn’t you, hm?” (Y/N) crossed her arms also with a raised brow. Namjoon kept quiet, debating how to answer, keeping eye contact as if it was an olympic staring contest.

“You.” He said. (Y/N) snorted, ready to insult the patient. “-would’ve starved to death by now if I hadn’t stayed with you until now.” He finished, (Y/N) gasped, reaching up and hitting Namjoon on the shoulder.

“You. Jerk. Get. Away. From. Me.” She hit him harder every word before waddling away into the hallway from the chuckling demon.

“No problem,” Namjoon disappeared with a veil of sparkles out of view.

(Y/N) thrusted open the door to her new bedroom. Continuing her waddle to the end of the full size bed. Facing the head board, she plopped the top half of her body onto the bed front first. Namjoon reappeared about 6 feet away from her with a loud poof and a burst of sparkles scattering around the room.

“Go away.” (Y/N)’s face was still shoved into the mattress, “Seriously shoo.” (Y/N) lifted her arm off the bed to wave him off.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” Namjoon walked towards the bed hesitantly, scared to get fucking murdered by his prison warden, “Move over. Give me some room.”

“Go sleep in my closet.” (Y/N) flipped the demon off.

“You’d prefer nightmares over your dearest Casper?”

“Yes.” Namjoon sat down on the bed, his knee almost hitting the girl’s head. “I thought I said in the closet.”

“And I prefer the bed.” Namjoon leaned forward and took (Y/N) by her hands and pulled her closer to himself with an annoyed groan from her. She was pulled until her head was laid on his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“I hate you.” (Y/N) grumbled into her demon-pillow.

“I know.”

“You live because I allow it, and that is it to be my flesh pillow.”

“Okay, now sleep.”

“But why do you have to leave?” (Y/N) looked up at her bunk buddy, her chin was impaling the person’s chest.

“I have to. I'm ready to go.” Yoongi looked crestfallen, “They said I could have one more night. But then, when I leave, I can pass on my role.”

“Could you maybe not steal my socks?” (Y/N) pouted at Yoongi who chuckled in response. “This is a genuine request.” She said with slight seriousness in her tone.

“You don’t have any to steal anyways,” he rolled his eyes with an endearing smirk that replaced his dispirited look just seconds before.

“Ok just- don’t go stealing any of my clothing, I need it.” (Y/N) clicked her tongue, not denying the fact that she was sockless.

“I won’t. I don’t need your clothing.” Yoongi shrugged, “I might take your guinea pig though. Meatloaf is cute.”

“YOU wouldn’t DARE take Meatloaf from me.” She glared

“I can and I will.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards the cage that housed Meatloaf. (Y/N) groaned, unlatching an arm that was sandwiched between the bed and Yoongi’s back. She planted her palm smack in the middle of the demon’s face, covering his view of the poor guinea pig.

“No.” She patted his face, Yoongi’s eyes now squeezed shut.

“I can lick your hand.” he threatened, his voice muffled and jumpy from the wacky hand.

“You’re gross,” she moved her hand up, now only covering his eyes and revealing a gummy smile from Yoongi.

“It’s sleep time,” he declared. (Y/N) whined in response, “I’ll be here in the morning to say goodbye one more time okay?”

“Promise?”

“Never said that,” he hummed.

“You jerk,” she groaned, laying her head sideways. Her ear over his heart, engraving the sound into her mind.

Like a cliche love story, (Y/N) woke up to no one but herself on the bed. Through groggy eyes, she could see that poor Meatloaf was gone too.

“I tried to stop him from taking Meatloaf I swear.” Namjoon uncrossed his arms from over his chest when he noticed that (Y/N) was awake.

“Did you really?” (Y/N) sat up in bed.

“I did, I swear,” he said immediately, “I have proof.”

“By proof, do you mean you broke something?” Namjoon took a deep breath figuring out whether or not to say yes or no.

“I… never said that.” He decided on dying, his words drifting off in nervousness.

“So… you did?” She concluded, Namjoon nodded slowly, his eyes down on the floor.

“Yea…” (Y/N) sighed, trying to find anger to cover up a tsunami of sadness that was approaching.

“It’ll be okay. We can summon him every once in a while. Maybe while we’re at it we can try to get your socks back.” Namjoon smiled and hoped it would make her feel better while the reality of things had begun to set in for him. All of the boys loved (Y/N) with all of their hearts but he was the only one willing to stay for the long run.

“I don’t think people want to go back to a rehab center, Namjoon.” (Y/N) let the tears begin to pour.

“(Y/N) it’ll be okay…” Namjoon went over to sit on the bed next to (Y/N), “Seriously we’ll get through this.” Namjoon put a hesitant hand onto (Y/N)’s shoulder and began trying to comfort her.

“I know- I know but-” (Y/N) sniffled, “Hold on, my mascara will run.”

“You’re not wearing any?-” Namjoon raised a brow and looked at (Y/N) like ‘bih-’

“Shush.” (Y/N) shushed Namjoon before shaking off his hand and placing her head on his shoulder.

“You know you can’t prevent me from getting a boyfriend forever.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon before continuing to pack her bag for school.

“I can and I will.” Namjoon slung his own bag over his shoulder. He was definitely a professor.

“You can’t make me be single forever.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and slung her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Your preferences in men are horrible (Y/N), I'm not trying to prevent you from getting a man.” Namjoon said in a matter of fact voice, moving and opening the front door, letting (Y/N) pass through before he walked out behind her.

She scoffed, “maybe you should hook me up with someone, maybe then you can leave rehab.”

“I miss Meatloaf,” Namjoon said solemnly, changing the subject.

“Why do you always change the subject when I bring up my love life?” (Y/N) complained, stomping her foot as they walked down the hallway of the apartment building toward the elevator.

“Do you think Yoongi will respond if we try to summon him?” He ignored the question.

“Hey Joon? Is your dick ribbed? I heard all the demon dicks were ribbed.”

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, putting his feet together and staring down at the human with a face screaming ‘what-the-fuck?’ (Y/N) had a boxy smile on her face, waiting for a response. “Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“A fanfic I read, it was a group called DTS,” she shrugged. “Is it right though?” she leaned forward slightly in high expectations.

“Well-” Namjoon paused, “uhhh…” his eyes darted around. “Mine… isn’t.”

“Damn- that’s really disappointing,” (Y/N) frowned, throwing down an imaginary hat onto the ground and continuing walking with Namjoon following behind her.

“Why is it disappointing? You’re a virgin.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you think I’m a virgin?” (Y/N) looked offended. They stopped in front of the closed silver elevator doors, Namjoon hit the down button before responding.

“You literally had no social life in middle and high school and depended on demons who were attached to you by force in order to not lose your ability to speak in English.” Namjoon raised a finger, “Plus I’ve known you since you were ten and unless it was before that… I would know.” He slipped into the elevator, turning around and walking backwards. A know-it-all smirk plastered on his face while (Y/N) had an annoyed look on her own.

“Can we just- stop before we start arguing about my sex life?” She marched forward into the elevator like a preteen going into their room after an argument with their parents.

“How did you even become a professor?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon confused. “Couldn’t you have just you know… poofed yourself from people’s view when I go to school?”

“I need something to do while you’re in class. I might as well teach asshole frat boys how to do business math amiright.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I mean… you can just be the ghost you are and haunt me n’ stuff?” (Y/N) suggested, “I mean you already do that, Casper.”

“That’s Professor Casper to you.” Namjoon laughed too hard at his own joke.

“Ew,” (Y/N) cringed. “I’d rather call you Daddy Casper.”

“Only in the bedroom.” Namjoon looked at the human.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be private.” (Y/N) stared back at the demon, flipping her hair back. “Wait- are YOU a virgin then?” She asked, bringing back the topic from earlier, but this time about Namjoon.

“Classified.” Namjoon glared.

“So you ARE a virgin?” (Y/N) snorted a laugh, “And you call yourself a demon.”

“Not all demons are incubi or succubi, your demon-racist.” Namjoon accused.

“I am not demon-racist.” (Y/N) looked up at the tall demon, “I’m human.”

“You’re not a human, you’re the personification of the word ‘dumbass.’” He said, poking the proclaimed dumbass on the forehead.

“Rude of you to assume what I am, Casper.” (Y/N) smacked away his hand and pushed Namjoon not so gently on the shoulder.

“Now you’re the hypocrite,” Namjoon glared, “Professor Casper.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Daddy Casper.”

Namjoon frowned, “If you’re so persistent on not calling me Professor, then just Daddy works fine.”

The girl shrugged, “I’d prefer to just call you Daddy Casper, but without the Daddy part.”

“But what if I want to be called Daddy Casper.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as they walked through the gates of the school, the walk soon enough would be coming to an end.

“Woahhhh down bessie.” (Y/N) lifted her hands and moved them in a downward motion, “Save it for the student who’s gonna try to fuck you for their grade.”

Namjoon laughed again, “You say it as if it won’t be you trying to fuck for an A.”

“I don’t get how an idiot like you got a job as a professor.” (Y/N) punched Professor Namjoon on the shoulder who was still laughing at the insult he pulled out his ass against the girl.

“I don’t know how an idiot like you got into college.” Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and then pushed (Y/N) back with a grin on his face. The bell conveniently rang, ending the conversation and forcing the pair to speed their way over to the classrooms.

“You know I saw one of the sorority girls eyeing you, I think we’ve found our fuck-for-a-grade person.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “You wouldn’t fuck her right?”

“I would never fuck one of my students.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Plus I don’t like cheerleaders, I like depressed freshmen who can see demons and that double time as rehab facilities.”

“I am not a rehab facility. I am a struggling freshman.” (Y/N) clapped at Namjoon.

“No you’re not a rehab facility, you’re my rehab facility.” Namjoon smiled cheekily, “And the way I see it you are not a struggling freshman, you live with a professor that helps you with most of your homework.”

“Eh- The one thing you don’t help with is stress relief.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “The least you could do is let me go out and find a boyfriend.”

“You HAVE a boyfriend.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“WHERE? WHO?” (Y/N)’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“HERE! ME!” Namjoon pointed at himself and then widened his eyes.(Y/N) looked at Namjoon with a raised brow, her frantic eyes stopping and looking the demon up and down.

“I didn’t know you had a rental-boyfriend service?” (Y/N) said in genuine shock, “I don’t have any money though so-“

“You don’t have to rent me.” Namjoon scoffed, “I’m right here and I cost no money.”

“I don’t take charity work, sorry.” Namjoon groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“You’re literally the most stubborn person I know.”

“I’m trying to keep my single streak here, thank you very much.”

“Wait so we aren’t dating?”

“You thought we were dating?”

“You didn’t think that?”

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I mean- you never said it-”

“I literally said it seconds ago, (Y/N).”

“Well yeah, seconds ago I guess but I mean before?”

“I literally confessed to you when we were looking for apartments to move out of your parents house.”

“When?-”

“What about this place then?”

“I like it.”

“More than you like me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you questioning my love for you?”

“Bitch, maybe I am.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I be questioning it then, hmm?”

“I’m literally helping you look for a home that we both will move into.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Bitch- If that doesn’t say ‘I LOVE YOU’ I don’t know what does.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe saying ‘I love you’ straight up?”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Nice.”

“Ohhhhhh.” (Y/N) smiled, “You meant that?”

Namjoon looked at her with a blank face. She stared back waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

“So… you do mean it?” She confirmed it herself. The demon nodded slowly, waiting for her to process it.

“(Y/N)? You good?” Namjoon waved a hand in front of her face.

“You know,” she started, finally having rebooted her system. “There’s a lot of things wrong with this relationship. First of all, you’re a demon and I'm a human.”

“Not the first time I've heard of that type of relationship.”

“Secondly, you’re supposed to leave soon considering you’ve delayed it enough. Even using my personified dreamcatcher as compensation to stay longer.”

“I’m pretty sure at this point, they’ve given up on trying to get me back.”

“Third of all, it’s weird that you’ve literally known me since I was ten.” She held up ten fingers, “How old are you again?”

“Not that old for a demon,” he shrugged.

“Exactly. For a demon, thank you for proving my point.” Namjoon went to retort but (Y/N) continued. “Fourth, teacher and student relationships are weird.”

“People roleplay it in the bedroom?” Namjoon shrugged once again.

“Exactly,” she said again.

“It’s technically not weird since you’re not my student though. You’re definitely not a business major so…” Namjoon weighed the pros and cons of being caught with a student even if said student isn’t even one of his.

“I’m an English Major- BUT that’s besides the point. You’ve still known me since I was ten.” (Y/N) poked Namjoon’s chest.

“Hey it’s not like I was creeping on you when you were a kid…” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“No you just started creeping on me when I was around sixteen.”

“It’s more acceptable than pedophiles!”

“You’re like three hundred!” She exclaimed, she threw her hands above her head to

“Add about seven-hundred years to that.” Namjoon added with slight hesitation.

(Y/N) stood there, mouth agape, trying to do the mental math.

“You’re one-thousand?!”

“Give or take some.”

“I- I’m going to remove myself from this situation.” (Y/N) walked away.

[:] I ran out of image things, so we get text from now on. [:]

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the closet.” Namjoon voiced his thoughts as he was grading papers one night.

“You don’t have to sleep in the closet.” (Y/N) looked at the demon from across the kitchen table.

“The closet is comfortable.” Namjoon shrugged before voicing his concerns about the student’s work, “I’m pretty sure this student is gonna try to suck my dick for an A. This work sucks ass. How did she even get x=34? The answer is x=0!”

“I’m bad at math, don't look at me.” (Y/N) jotted a note down on her work before closing her notebook.

“But anyway- Back on track. Why do you want to start sleeping in the closet?” (Y/N) raised a questioning brow.

“Because the bed is awkward now.” Namjoon sighed before writing a bold ‘10/35’ down on the paper and circling it. (Y/N) glanced over at the paper that was marked red at every inch of it.

“You should put ‘see me after class’ on it. Maybe she’ll suck your non-ribbed demon dick.” (Y/N) suggests as she puts away her notebook. Namjoon’s fist hit the table in annoyance with a loud sigh that definitely said ‘i’m not getting some dumb bitch to suck my dick.’ The girl snorted, “Geez, no need to be so rough on the table.”

“Stop bringing up my non-ribbed demon dick.” Namjoon glared across the table.

“You admit that it’s not ribbed? That’s rough, man.” (Y/N) sighed sympathetically. “Some people are into that, you know.” Namjoon facepalmed, a bit too harshly, a loud smack echoing in the cramped apartment. “No need to be so rough, Casper.”

“You’d probably like it rough, and why the hell are you so bent on the fact that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon glared, moving onto the next student’s paper.

“We’ve taken the god damn BDSM test together, Casper. You KNOW I'd like it rough.” (Y/N) said in a smart-ass tone, knowing for a fact that they’ve done the test before.

“That shit lies,” Namjoon declared, “I’m not a bottom.”

“We know sweetie, we know. The test did you dirty.” (Y/N) weighed her options before ultimately deciding not to cross the room to comfort her demon. “But you know, the test DID have some direct questions-”

“You mean like the golden showers?”

“Ew, why would you even bring that up.”

“You said ‘direct questions.'” Namjoon shrugged.

“That question was traumatic.” (Y/N) shuddered, “But anyway, You can keep sleeping in the bed. It’s only awkward for you. Plus you can’t even be a demon dreamcatcher from a closet.”

“I can and I will. Now go get ready for bed. I'll join you in a bit. I have to email the kids' advisor.”

[:] Oh wow, another spliter [:]

“What’s awkward about this?” (Y/N) asked, ignorant to the fact that it was very awkward. Her legs were wrapped around the demon’s waist, who was laying down as straight as a log uncomfortably.

“Everything is uncomfortable.” Namjoon tried to push (Y/N) off of him.

“This is where you’re wrong,” (Y/N) states. “Your chesticles are very comfortable.” She furthered her point, by moving her head and weirdly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“(Y/N) get off of me.” Namjoon was now really uncomfortable.

“No.” (Y/N) pulled Namjoon’s log-body closer.

“Please?” Namjoon wiggled some more, “Seriously (Y/N) get off.”

“No…” (Y/N) held Namjoon tighter, “Imma go sleep now.”

“Ok (Y/N).” With that Namjoon pushed (Y/N) up and off of him and climbed out of bed and into the closet.

(Y/N) whined, “Nooooooo!” She looked at the closet through her eyebrows. “Are you hiding something from me?” She accused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon opened the closet door a bit.

“Oh my god- are you a closet gay?” She gasped loudly.

“WHAT?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) from the crack in the doorway.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to use a fake confession to hide it from me.” She comforted the demon, “I will support you 1000 percent.”

“I’M NOT GAY!” Namjoon wiggled around in the closet before emerging from the space.

“Okay okay- but just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, Casper. Closeted or not.” She hummed, her words being muffled as she slowly put her face into the mattress.

“It’s been awkward since you basically called me a cradle robber, you stubborn piece of shit.” Namjoon blushed at his confession.

“I thought you didn’t care about that earlier.” (Y/N) looked back up, taking a deep breath of air after almost suffocating herself.

“Well I did.” Namjoon huffed out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well that sucks,” (Y/N) said blandly, “I was thinking of saying I love you.”

“The fuck- wait,” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Night night.”

[:] Cockadoodle-Doo it's morning [:]

The next morning came around quickly for (Y/N), though I wouldn’t say the same for Namjoon. Having him overthinking the “postponed” love confession from (Y/N). Meanwhile, though the night was quick, the morning dragged the girl by the toilet paper stuck at the bottom of her shoe.

Frown plastered on her face, seemingly deep in thought. She was unmoving in her seat aside from her wrist moving to stir the half eaten cereal in front of her. Namjoon sat across from her, “You can stop thinking, you’re going to hurt your head.”

The insult snapped the girl out of her concentration, she looked up and clicked her tongue. “I was just thinking about you. You want me to stop doing that?”

Namjoon raised a brow, “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“I was wondering if we could summon the boys,” (Y/N) smiled before continuing, “Maybe get my socks back…”

“Are you saying you’d enjoy the company of your socks more than you with me?” Namjoon asked rhetorically with a shocked expression. (Y/N) gagged and rolled her eyes.

“Namjoon…” she said with a honey coated tone. “Are you saying you don’t know that I know you’ve used MY socks before?” The accused had a shocked look on his face that looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.

(Y/N) started snickering, amused by the demon’s expression. “As if I'd use your cheap ass yellow striped socks,” Namjoon aimed his nose at the ceiling. The girl laughed harder, finding the insult to her socks a bit too amusing.

“Okay, back on topic,” she said in between giggles, “We’ll get back to this later.” Namjoon shook his head, unamused unlike the person across from him.

The offended sock insulter cleared his throat, “We should have enough time before we need to go to the school to summon one of them.” He said in a factual voice, (Y/N) nodded as she took a glance at the time that read 7:23 am.

“What did we need again?” She got up from the stool she sat on, abandoning the poor soggy cereal. Namjoon got up also with a hum of thought.

“Candles and a lighter are the main things, obviously,” He says. (Y/N) nodded going into one of the kitchen cabinets for the items. “And if we’re summoning all of them, we’d need offerings…” Namjoon drifted off.

(Y/N) put down the candles onto the marble counter and looked at Namjoon questionably, “So… we need another hamster and dog?” This made the demon pause before nodding slowly, the situation becoming a bit more difficult than it needed to be now.

“And then what about Hobi? What he took wasn’t exactly… a physical object?” She also put it into consideration and clicked her tongue. “I’m still mad at you for sacrificing my literal source of happiness and good luck for yourself.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I thought we were past this!” He threw his hands up in the air, (Y/N) flipping him off simultaneously.

“Maybe you were,” she sassed, pointing fingers with a half assed glare.

“Technically, it wasn’t a sacrifice, (Y/N).” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well-” She was cut off by the demon.

“Nuh uh, It was just him choosing to leave and wanting to stay,” he snapped, not in a harsh way though.

“But-”

“You know what, let’s just try and summon them another day. I don’t think it’d work anyways.” Namjoon said, dismissing the topic by waving his hand, taking a glance at the tree outside.

[:] Wooshy flash back time I guess [:]

“Why are you still here?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “I mean weren’t you supposed to leave this year?”

“I was supposed to leave instead of Hobi last year. I asked to stay.” Namjoon was sitting nonchalantly in one of the lounge chairs in her parents' living room reading the book she was supposed to be reading for school.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?” (Y/N) looked at the demon, a look of confusion evident on her features.

“Who else is supposed to write your book reports for school?” Namjoon smirked while holding up the book before going back to reading said book.

“Then why did Hobi leave? Did he not want to be attached anymore?” (Y/N) began to tear up.

“It’s not that. I asked to stay because I felt I wasn’t ready to leave yet and Hoseok felt he was ready to leave. Most of the time, we leave when our time comes (Y/N). Hobi and mine were at the same time and I wanted to stay so I stayed.” Namjoon smiled at (Y/N).

“But why didn’t Hobi want to stay?” (Y/N)’s tears were flowing freely at this point.

“(Y/N)! Are you crying?” (Y/N)’s mom came rushing downstairs to investigate why her only child was crying.

“I’m fine.” Even (Y/N) wasn’t convincing herself, “Really Mom, I’m just over exhausted. I’m gonna go up to my room.”

[:] And back to the present :) [:]

“Are you almost ready to go?” Namjoon popped his head into the bedroom, “We have to leave soon if you want to be on time for school.”

“I’m almost ready, relax. And don’t you have a class to teach and a non-ribbed dick to get sucked by that one bitch for an A?” (Y/N) scoffed from where she was printing an essay that Namjoon had written the night before.

Namjoon started counting down from five, “Five- You better fucking get your ass in gear or you’re gonna be late. Four- Seriously (Y/N). Three- Professor Howard can’t give you another pass just because he likes you. Two-” Namjoon got cut off by (Y/N).

“I’m ready, asshole.” (Y/N) looked at him, “You better not let that bitch Brianna suck your dick.”

“I won’t let her suck my dick!” Namjoon raised his hands in defense, “What about my toes though?” (Y/N) looked at the demon with a face of disgust and looked at him from head to toe.

“Are you Namjoon or Taehyung?” She squinted, looking at his face.

“It was a joke!” Namjoon smirked, “But I'm sure she’ll do it for an A anyway.”

“I’m done with this conversation Casper.” With that (Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder and left.

“Hey wait!” Namjoon grabbed his own bag before speed walking after (Y/N).

[:] Professor Casper or Daddy Casper? [:]

“SO.” (Y/N) sat down across from Namjoon in his office, “Rumour has it that you’re dating a cute english-lit major and are up for evaluation. What say you in your defense?”

“I mean I am dating a cute english-lit major. But I’m not up for evaluation, I used my demon charms to get out the punishment.”

Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“Did you actually?” (Y/N) gaped at Namjoon.

“No. I explained that dating you is punishment enough.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples popping.

“Bastard.” (Y/N)looked at Namjoon.

“Bitch.” Namjoon smirked at (Y/N) before leaning over the desk and kissing her on the forehead, “I love you.”

“Good.” (Y/N) blushed.

There, through the window of the office, there were 6 peeping toms watching the couple.

“Adadada-uda,” Taehyung stuttered, “THEY’RE SO CUTE!”

“This looks like it’d turn out like a straight porn video on the hub,” Yoongi says bluntly.

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, “Ew straight.”

“Moving on,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “Does anyone remember when (Y/N) said I love you back?”

A series of “No’s” could be heard.

“Maybe we weren’t watching!” Jimin raised his hands, “But when were we not watching?”

“Oh I know!” Hoseok interrupted, “When they split up because of classes earlier. We left Yoongi hyung in charge just in case something happened.”

“I took a nap and must've missed it.” The guilty demon shrugged.

“No, (Y/N) definitely isn’t someone who confesses straight up.” Seokjin said, stroking his chin. The rest nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's why she didn’t have a man when we were still there.” Jungkook snorted.

“No JK, we all know the reason why (Y/N) was always single. Was because she was pining after Namjoon.” Jimin stated the obvious.

[:] Damn. Imagine having someone to kiss in public. Or at all. [:]

“So how do you reckon the staff caught onto us… I mean PDA really isn’t our thing.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone!” (Y/N) frowned, “Maybe someone saw us go home together? I bet it was that bitch Brianna. She gives off the stalker vibes.”

“I’m not gonna let her suck my dick.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “And she’s already failing my class so even if I did let her suck my non-ribbed punisher, she still would probably only have a D-.”

“Hey- I thought we stopped referring to your dick as non-ribbed.” Namjoon raised a brow, making a face that said ‘you’re-the-one-who-started-it.’

Reading his expression (Y/N) glared at the demon, “Technically you’re the one who started it because you freely admitted it freely.”

“What makes you find out the hard way that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) suggestively before flopping namtiddie first into the couch.

“I think I would've preferred finding out the hard way.” (Y/N) flopping onto Namjoon’s hard back.

“So I can’t even have the couch to myself?” Namjoon groaned before realizing what (Y/N) meant by ‘finding out the hard way,’ “Are you saying you rather had found out in the heat of the moment after having prepared yourself for a ribbed demon dick?” Namjoon leaned his head up to bump (Y/N) who still had her fat ass on his back, “I can’t breathe, get off.”

(Y/N) rolled off of Namjoon before plopping herself down in front of Namjoon, “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

[:] Smh stalkers at every moment [:]

“And I got a big fat ass!” (Y/N) shook her ass while singing off-key.

“Your ass is everything but big, baby.” Namjoon passed (Y/N) to reach for the garlic from the spice cabinet.

The girl turned and looked at Namjoon with an offended look, “You know. As my rental boyfriend, you’re supposed to be nice.”

Garlic forgot, Namjoon turned to (Y/n) and grabbed her waist, “I’m not your rental boyfriend and you know that.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Okay go off I guess, not my rental boyfriend.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes before pushing Namjoon away.

“Woman,” Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

(Y/N) turned around and smiled at her demon, “I could argue that you’re the one that wounds me.”

“I do not wound you.” Namjoon scoffs, “But I could very well wound you if you keep saying i’m a rental boyfriend, love.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to wound me now would we,” (Y/N) smiled up at Namjoon before leaning in and placing a quick peck to his lips, “I love you.”

Namjoon smiled before returning (Y/N)’s peck with a chaste kiss, “I love you too, baby.”

*Meanwhile from the dining room 6 men were watching from not so afar*

“Hyung! Hyung! Did you see that!” Jungkook excitedly pointed towards the couple in the kitchen.

Yoongi groaned, “See what?”

“Le gasp! How could you have missed that!” Taehyung held a hand over his heart, “(Y/N) initiated affection for once!”

Jin smiled, “It really was adorable.”

[:] Oh look, you're at the end. [:]

“Every kiss begins with consent.” Namjoon wiggled his shoulders while grading papers at the table.

(Y/N) smirked before leaning over the table and planting a large whet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Rude.” Namjoon scoffed before pulling (Y/N) in for a proper kiss.

“You know that kiss didn’t have much of my consent in it.” (Y/N) smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t think I consented to that either though.” Namjoon smiled.

“Get back to work baby.” (Y/N) nudged Namjoon towards his pile of papers.

“Yeah yeah.” Namjoon smiled before looking down and putting a big red ‘F’ on a paper clearly marked Brianna Simms.

“When will she just drop the class?” (Y/N) chuckled, “Dumbass.”

do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. :]

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piratewithvigor · 4 years ago

Text

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously.

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged.

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

#I made this instead of doing homework #Classic Rock #Meme

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