#scare flair records

[brokehorrorfan]

Time Bandits' original motion picture soundtrack is available on vinyl for the first time for $32 via Scare Flair Records. Composed by Mike Moran, the score has been remastered for vinyl from the original master tapes.

The album is pressed on 140-gram "The Most Fabulous Object in the World" blue & red with black & white splatter colored vinyl, limited to 333. It's housed in a gatefold jacket featuring cover art by director Terry Gilliam and interior art by Brad Mrock alongside an 11x11 insert with liner notes by Moran.

[allpiesforourown]

I'm sorry but omega harem member Shen Yuan AU now has me in a choke hold-

Like,

Binghe is trying to find the perfect way to seduce Shen Yuan, because god knows he needs a miracle to unfuck up his entire 'I don't care for you, its just political' situation

Universe does its thing and sends a wife plot, Shen Yuan gets poisoned with some fuck or die plant when helping one of the wives meet with their family in a very dangerous section of the demon realm.

Binghe hears about his omegas poisoning and jumps at the chance to finally get closer to his A-Yuan. this! This is familiar to him, he's saved his wives from all kinds of poisons and aphrodisiac fueled heats before, he'd fuck him so good and show how great of an alpha he could be to him.

Only when he makes it there, Shen Yuans already been serviced by his bodyguard Liu Qingge. (its LITERALLY his job to save and service this omega, of course he fucked the poison out of him)

Turns out the news had reached Binghe far too late to be put to any use, partly do to Shen Yuan begging the wife he had been helping when he was poisoned to not bother Binghe with it. He just doesn't want to force Binghe to take care of him! (Binghe had just gotten back with a new wife too! Imagine how pissed he'd be if he interrupted them!)

The wife takes Shen Yuans insistence and worry as him being terrified of Binghe so of course she couldn't bring herself to tell the demon emperor (as should have been protocol). And if she actively helped hide his condition then it wasn't like anyone would rat her out for it, at least not after she told them how scared Shen Yuan had been of his Alpha husband. (Cue them believing that Shen Yuans wedding night must have been traumatising or something) rumors only spiral when an omega will take dealing with a deadly poison over fucking their literal husband.

So by the time the news reached Binghe it had already been a day. Bonus points if he walks in on Liu Qingge still inside his husband who's completely out of it from being throughly ravished for 12+ hours on and off to get the poison completely out of his system.

The stand off would be prime tea for the harem but absolutely terrifying to anyone who actually witnessed it. Binghe seething as his temper flairs to record levels.

"under what authority did you decide you could take such advances with MY omega."

"It's my job."

"No. its Mine."

"I was told you wouldn't be here"

"Well clearly I'm here now."

"Now is too late. he'd have been dead by now."

"...What?"

"He was poisoned yesterday. He'd have been dead by now."

And Liu Qingge isn't even being judgemental, I mean why would he be, this is a part of his job and a very enjoyable one at that. But Binghe is crumbling mentally as he tries to piece together how things went so wrong: Why wasn't he informed immediately? How had this been kept from him? Was someone trying to kill Shen Yuan? And now he wonders HOW exactly had his omega gotten poisoned?

The impulsive thoughts come too, he wants this bodyguard fired. But if he fired the man who saved his omega now, it would only seem like he'd wanted Shen Yuan dead.

An even uglier, more desperate part of him wanted to purposefully poison Shen Yuan with a poison only HE could cure, to have Shen Yuan need him.

POISONING YOUR HUSBAND AS FOREPLAY .... God I love binggeyuan and liushen, just the most emotionally dense people imaginable falling for each other

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

part 4 of 12

Synopsis: New feelings emerge the annual obx bonfire, and maybe rafe makes sense sometimes?

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

---

The beach was alive with energy. Shadows danced across the sand as the bonfire crackled, its flames licking up into the night sky. Music pulsed from a speaker someone had dragged down, a beat that felt like the heartbeat of the entire crowd. It was packed, Kooks and Pogues alike coming together under the shared, unspoken Outer Banks tradition: that bonfires were for everyone. Tonight, social status was checked at the edge of the sand, and the air buzzed with freedom.

Y/N took it all in, smiling as she watched the chaos around her. To her left, Pope was pulling a face as he choked down a swig of the lukewarm beer they’d snagged from an abandoned cooler, and on her right, Kiara was doubling over in laughter as JJ finished off the remains of a sloppy keg stand, his grin as wide as it was reckless.

“Twenty seconds! That’s a record!” Kiara declared, raising her cup as JJ landed, somewhat unsteadily, on his feet. He leaned on Pope, pretending to stagger for effect.

“Twenty-five seconds if you count style points,” JJ retorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And that was a world-class dismount.”

“World-class dismount?” Pope scoffed, though he couldn’t hold back a grin. “That was barely even a landing.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, joining in with the rest of them. This was her crew—her people. Moments like this reminded her that these were more than just friends; they were family. They shared everything, from scraps to secrets, and it felt easy, right. Here, she didn’t have to be anything but herself.

The group continued to cheer JJ on, tossing him mock praises while he bowed with exaggerated flair. Then he shot a challenging look over at Pope. “Think you can beat that, Pope? Or is Mr. Honour Student scared to take on the keg?”

Pope rolled his eyes, but Y/N could see the glint of competitiveness sparking behind his usual calm. “Step aside, amateurs,” he said, striding toward the keg. “Prepare to witness a true display of keg-standing grace.”

Kiara snorted. “Yeah, you’ll need all the grace you can get to beat JJ’s ‘world-class dismount.’”

Y/N watched as Pope set himself up, bracing his hands on the keg while JJ and Kiara took hold of his legs. The group counted down as Pope lifted up, holding his own surprisingly well. JJ and Kiara kept the playful jeers coming, while Y/N joined in with cheers, laughing so hard her sides hurt. When Pope finally came down, he shook his head with mock disgust at the crowd’s over-the-top applause.

The group quickly settled into their usual rhythm, passing around drinks, teasing each other, and laughing so loudly they drew a few curious glances from the others around the bonfire. Kiara passed Y/N a drink, winking as if sharing a secret. Y/N took a sip, enjoying the taste of freedom mixed with the slight saltiness of the ocean breeze.

Then, as the night continued, something shifted. It was subtle at first, a glance, a small change in the atmosphere. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N noticed a figure entering the firelight, carrying herself with an effortless confidence. Sarah Cameron, arriving with her own Kook crowd. She seemed to glide through the sand, her friends moving aside to let her through as if they’d choreographed the whole thing.

Y/N watched her for a second, noticing how, even among the crowd, Sarah looked almost… untouchable. There was something magnetic about her, even if Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. She glanced around, curious if anyone else had noticed, and saw John B watching Sarah with a look that wasn’t just casual curiosity. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with her as she passed, the kind of look that felt more like a question than a glance.

The thing was, John B hadn’t looked away right away. And Sarah, too, held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before giving him a small, unreadable smile and moving on.

Y/N felt a small flutter of curiosity, but she quickly brushed it aside. It was probably nothing; John B was just noticing Sarah, like everyone else was. If he was intrigued by her, that was no surprise—everyone seemed to be.

She turned her attention back to the group, pushing aside any thoughts of Sarah Cameron and the strange little moment she’d witnessed. The Pogues were deep into some new joke, Pope recounting a mishap from a surf lesson he’d tried to give a tourist last summer, everyone laughing so hard they could hardly breathe.

It was all familiar, all part of their dynamic. But as Y/N looked around at them—JJ, leaning back with a confident grin; Kiara, always quick with a witty comeback; Pope, rolling his eyes good-naturedly—she felt a faint pang of something. A sense of being surrounded yet slightly apart. They were all laughing, all connected in a way she was part of but also… maybe not entirely. It was subtle, something she couldn’t quite name, but it was there.

–

The bonfire crackled on, casting warm, flickering shadows over everyone as laughter and stories echoed into the night. Y/N stretched her legs out on the soft sand, her eyes dancing over her friends as they chatted and laughed around her. The atmosphere was alive, a tangle of music, firelight, and easygoing conversations. She could almost forget the weight that had been following her around lately, the quiet sense that something was off.

JJ was in his usual element, animatedly telling a story about some wild, yet exaggerated, run-in with a tourist and a local cop. His hands flew through the air, mimicking the cop’s serious tone and his own escape from the situation. Everyone laughed, even Pope, who was the least likely to show much amusement. 

“Bet you didn’t get off that easy, though!” Kiara teased, nudging JJ with her foot.

“I got off just fine, thank you,” JJ replied with a wink, his grin wide as he glanced over at the crowd. “And speaking of getting off, there’s a cute tourist over there who might need a tour guide tonight.” He gave a sly smile, turning his head toward a group of vacationers by the food table.

John B. shot JJ a mock glare from the other side of the fire, his voice loud over the chatter. “What is it with you and tourists, man? At this point, I’m just concerned for their safety.”

JJ laughed, throwing up his hands in defense. “I’m a professional. Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, right,” Pope chimed in, shaking his head as he passed around another beer. “JJ ‘Tour Guide’ Maybank at it again. Should we be concerned for our reputation?”

Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled. “Some things never change.”

As the teasing continued, Y/N joined in, her laughter light and genuine, but underneath it, something else simmered—a slight discomfort she couldn't quite shake. She watched JJ eye the tourist again, clearly sizing her up. It was nothing new, just JJ being... well, JJ. He’d always been carefree, always found someone to flirt with, to connect with, even if it was for one night. 

But something about it hit a little harder tonight. 

Pope leaned in, his voice intentionally loud, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “Hey, when are you gonna find someone to hook up with? You’re, like, the only one here who hasn’t.”

Y/N froze for a second, then forced a laugh. “I’m just… not in the mood for that stuff,” she said, not quite convincing herself. She could feel her friends' eyes on her, even as they all laughed it off. 

“Yeah, Y/N,” JJ added without missing a beat, his smile wide and easy. “What, too busy reading books to bother with that stuff?” The words were lighthearted, thrown out with a laugh, but they landed heavier than he realized.

The group chuckled, but Y/N felt a slight tension building in her chest. It was a joke, sure, but it was the second time tonight that someone had mentioned her "lack of experience." As if it defined her in their eyes.

Kiara, sensing the slight shift in Y/N’s mood, leaned over and threw an arm around her. “You know we’re just messing with you, right? You’re one of us—don’t need anyone to complete you or whatever.”

But the words felt hollow, even though Y/N knew Kiara meant well. One of us. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. Y/N had always felt like she was one of the group—the sidekick, the buddy. But she didn't want to be just the "one of the guys" forever. She wanted to be seen differently. She wanted someone to notice her for more than her place in the group.

“Yeah, you’re our moral compass,” Pope added with a grin, raising his cup to her. “You keep us all on the straight and narrow, Y/N.”

She managed a strained smile, raising her own drink in response. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment… I think.” But the weight of their words, their easy camaraderie, left her feeling more like an outsider than ever.

But Y/N felt herself pulling further away, her smile fading just a little. The casual remark—that she was more like the friend who held everyone together, the one who didn’t need anything in return—only reinforced the space between them. She wasn’t the girl they saw in the same light as Kiara. She wasn’t the one who could be flirted with, or kissed in the heat of the moment. She was the one who watched. Who held the drinks, who laughed at the jokes.

The conversation shifted again, and Y/N, trying to mask her discomfort, found herself zoning out. She stared at the fire, the flames dancing in a rhythm that felt almost mocking in its carefree energy. 

In the midst of her thoughts, she caught John B.’s gaze across the fire. He looked over at her, offering a quick smile before turning to say something to JJ. His presence—his casual nature, his place in the group—was a sharp reminder that, no matter how much time they spent together, she’d always be just a part of the background. He fit in effortlessly. He had a life outside the group, but when he was with them, he was fully there.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice how John B. had looked at Sarah when she arrived. It was subtle, but it was there. A shared glance. And maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a casual look, but it stung all the same.

She quickly averted her eyes, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of being left behind. It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t that she wanted to be the one to catch John B.’s attention. It was the realization that, in this group, there were parts of her that no one truly saw.

And that thought settled over her like a cold wave.

JJ’s voice broke through her thoughts, his casual tone making her even more aware of the gap she felt. “Well, Y/N’s too good for that stuff anyway. She’s more about, like, keeping her nose in a book or something. Definitely not the party girl type.”

She froze, the teasing jab landing a little too close to home. She could feel all eyes on her for a moment longer than was comfortable. Their laughter, Kiara’s reassuring arm around her shoulders, the lighthearted comments, all felt like they were circling around her, but not letting her in.

She needed air.

Standing quickly, Y/N excused herself, her voice tight. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked toward the shore, the cool night air brushing against her skin, and with every step, she felt more like a stranger to the group she had spent so many years with. She reached the water’s edge and stood there for a moment, staring out at the ocean, the rhythmic waves matching the turmoil inside her.

---

The bonfire crackled in the distance, the warmth and laughter of the group growing fainter as Y/N walked along the shore. Her steps felt heavy, her thoughts swirling with the aftertaste of the evening—the teasing, the offhand comments, the feeling of not quite fitting in. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been part of their jokes before, but tonight it was different.

She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much—the jokes about her never hooking up or not being like Kiara. It was just a night, after all. But it all piled up, and now, standing by herself in the cool night air, she couldn’t escape the way she felt. Invisible.

And then she heard footsteps approaching, the familiar sound of someone walking through the sand with a confident stride.

“Where are you going, bookworm?” Rafe’s voice came from behind her, the teasing tone clear even from a distance.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. “Really? You too?” she muttered under her breath, bracing herself for the onslaught of sarcasm. She turned to face him, arms crossed. “I thought we had a truce, Rafe. What do you want?”

Rafe, as usual, didn’t take her irritation seriously. His lips twitched with a mischievous grin, like he always knew how to push her buttons. “Truce? What truce? Come on, you can’t seriously be sulking out here by yourself. The night’s still young, and you’re out here playing emo beachside poetry.”

Y/N scoffed, feeling an odd mix of annoyance and amusement. “Really? Emo beachside poetry? You’re such a pain in the ass.”

Rafe shrugged, unaffected. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to keep you from brooding. So, what’s the deal? You’re just gonna sit out here while the rest of the world is having fun? You’re not exactly the type to pull a disappearing act.”

She stared at him for a beat, trying to figure out why his presence suddenly felt even more annoying than usual. “I’m not brooding,” she said, but her voice didn’t carry the same confidence. “I just needed a break.”

Rafe, sensing her discomfort but not exactly understanding the full extent of it, shrugged and stepped closer. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this, not when she was usually so steady and unbothered. But he couldn’t help himself—he was always itching to push people’s buttons, especially hers.

A long silence stretched between them. Rafe, for once, wasn’t sure what to say. His usual quips felt wrong in the heavy air, and he hesitated, a rare thing for him.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s the comments,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “About me not hooking up with anyone… or not being like Kiara.” She shook her head, trying to make light of it. “It’s just… it’s nothing, really.”

Rafe frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he took a step closer. “What are you talking about?” His voice was quieter now, less teasing and more concerned, though he was still doing his best to hide it.

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know. It just… it felt like they don’t see me the way I want to be seen. Like I’m just some ‘one of the guys’ kind of thing. Like I don’t matter the same way they all do.”

Rafe paused, letting the words sink in. His gaze softened for a moment, but his usual wall of sarcasm quickly came back up. “Is that it? You’re mad because you didn’t get the hookup attention?”

Y/N glared at him, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “That’s not the point, Rafe.”

He took a deep breath, visibly trying to process her words. He wasn’t great with emotions, especially when it came to the people closest to him, but he hated seeing her upset. And he hated not knowing how to help.

“I don’t get you, Y/N,” he said after a beat. “You’ve always been with them. Hell, they act like you’re one of them, one of the crew. And now you’re telling me you’re upset ‘cause you don’t get treated like some girl?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond right away. She could feel the frustration rising again, like a knot in her chest. She had tried to convince herself it didn’t matter. That she was fine with being one of the guys. But she wasn’t fine.

Rafe sighed, his voice softening just a little. “You know, I’ve never been big on feelings or whatever. But I don’t like seeing people hurt. And you... you don’t deserve to feel like that.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by his sudden shift. She hadn’t expected him to be this… serious. For a moment, she almost didn’t know what to say.

Rafe, still a little uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, tried to make light of it. “Look, I’ve always thought of you as one of the guys. I mean, you hang with them more than anyone, right? It’s like you’re part of the crew. But… now that I’m seeing this, it’s like, huh. Maybe there’s more to you than just being the ‘bookworm’ in the back.” His tone had a subtle softness to it, like he was trying to figure out something about her—and maybe himself, too.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. The words she had been holding in all night slipped out before she could stop them. “I—uh, I have a crush on JJ,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “I think I always have.”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Well, I can see that. JJ’s, uh... JJ. The golden boy, right?” He paused, then added, more seriously, “But JJ’s not exactly the best at noticing what’s right in front of him. So, don’t get your hopes up.”

Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She wasn’t sure why she had said it—maybe because Rafe didn’t seem to judge her like the others did, maybe because she needed to get it out. “I know. I know it’s stupid. It’s complicated.”

Rafe shifted, sitting down beside her, though his usual confidence seemed to have faded a little. “Yeah, relationships are complicated. I wouldn’t know much about them, to be honest.” He shrugged, trying to keep things light, but his tone was tinged with something more—maybe a little vulnerability that he wasn’t used to showing. “I don’t do that whole ‘feelings’ thing. And honestly, I don’t really think anyone should, if I’m being real.”

Y/N turned to look at him, surprised by the shift in his attitude. It wasn’t the usual Rafe—there was something a little more... human in his words.

“I don’t know why anyone gets into relationships, honestly,” Rafe continued, his voice more thoughtful now. “They always seem messy. I’ve seen enough of that in my family. But maybe that’s why I stay out of it. Keeps it simple.”

Y/N nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. “Yeah. I get that.”

Rafe broke the silence with a half-smile, his usual cocky grin returning. “Look, I’m not saying I have all the answers, but you’re not just some sidekick, Y/N. You deserve more than that. Anyone who can’t see that... they’re blind.”

Y/N stared out at the ocean, the waves crashing against the shore, her thoughts swirling. She hadn’t expected this conversation with Rafe to feel like it was unearthing something real inside her, but here they were. It was the first time in a long while she felt like someone understood, even if it was Rafe—a guy who seemed to care more about being a pain in her side than anything else.

“So, what now?” she asked, her voice quieter. "Do I just keep pretending it doesn’t matter? That I’m okay with being invisible?"

Rafe shifted beside her, his presence solid and unexpected. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waves and the crackling of the bonfire far in the distance.

“Maybe don’t pretend,” he said after a beat. “But don’t expect everything to change overnight, either. You can’t force people to see you differently, even if they’re close to you. If they don’t get it, that’s on them. And if they do—well, then that’s when things get messy. But I think you deserve better than being invisible.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure what to make of his words, but she felt like she might be seeing a different side of him for the first time. Not the brash, cocky Rafe, but the one who understood what it felt like to be lost in the crowd.

"You're kind of making sense, you know?" Y/N said, half-laughing, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Rafe gave a small shrug, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I do that sometimes."

For the first time that night, Y/N felt like she could breathe a little easier. Maybe she wasn’t completely alone in feeling invisible. But the night was far from over, and Y/N knew that her place in the group—and the way she was seen—was something she’d have to face sooner or later.

"Thanks, Rafe," she said quietly, almost as an afterthought.

He gave her a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t mention it, bookworm. Just don’t go getting any ideas, alright?"

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Don’t worry. You’re the last person I’d ever have ideas about."

They both stayed quiet for a while longer, watching the waves, the firelight casting flickering shadows over the sand. It wasn’t the end of her internal battle, but for a moment, it felt like maybe she had a little more clarity. Just a little more understanding. And that was enough for now.

---

Next up: morning confrontations and coffee mishaps

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Taglist:

@hockeybabe87

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A/N: never underestimate the power of a uni student during midterms. she will write multiple chapters of a fic in 24 hours

[spacelesbiandisaster]

My favorite Headcanons for the Togruta Species

And Shili

And Kiros (Kinda)

Biology

Togruta babies are called Cubs (because I think is a cute word and bc they are aliens after all. Also it translate well to my native language, so when I say Cub I thinking of the word "Filhote" and I'm well aware I probably mixing up translations here).

They live in small groups up to 500 members (but rarely more than that).

Note: I'm saying "small" because our smallest towns have 5.000 member's, but ancient Togruta lived in actual small groups with 50 members or less.

Togruta can grow anxious if they don't have a community around them. Their species were made to live in groups.

Togruta's Montrals are capable of hearing frequencies up to 200000 hz (similar to tigers and bats) and are able of echolocate close objects.

They also have powerful noses and can recognize people from their smell.

Their eyes have a peripheral vision of 200°, that combined with their hearing and flair make them the most powerful predator in Shili.

A adult Togruta eats about 1,5kg of meat every day. Ofc there's alternatives such a rations bars that can lower that amount, but considering they feeding exclusive with meat that's the right amount to maintain themselves health.

Togruta are strict carnivorous (this cannon, but I just want to reassure the idea)

The average height is 1,9 meters for Female and 2,5 meters for Males, counting with their Montrals.

Togruta can easily live up to 90 years, some even got to 120, but they rarely live much more than that. It's a little longer than most humans, but they don't come near Mirialan's lifespan of 250 years or Yoda species that basically turn into living fossils.

Males tend to have longer Montrals while Females have longer Lekkus.

They share 80% of their DNA with Akul (similar with how humans share 90% of our DNA with chimpanzee) what suggest they had a common ancestor.

Their vocal cords can mimic sounds to attract their prey and avert other predators (such as the Akul). Trogruta Cubs were specially good at this and it's not rare see them trying to imitate sounds they find curious or funny. This also means they were very talkative, if a Togruta Cubs is quiet something is terrible wrong.

Because of this trait Togruta are one off the few species capable of learning how to speak Ithorese and Shyriiwook, although their accent is told to be sloppy and child-like.

The muscles on their legs are the strongest on all their body. They were originally a migratory species, so they needed the extra force and speed.

Their gestation period is around 7 months, a little shorter than humans. But their Cubs grow faster and usually start walking around their five mouth after they were born. They development that trait so neither the mother or the Cub stays vulnerable for long.

Togruta skin color have multiple variations, but the more common are: Orange, purple, yellow and dark blue. This colors also appear on the stripes of their Montrals and Lekkus. The flash color scheme serve two purposes: It warn their predators they are a thread (like some snakes do, the vibrant colors usually scares predators away) and it's also a sign of their health.

Health togruta have stronger colors, the more vibrant their color are the more attract they were consider to be.

Togruta are usually monogamous and tend to spend their whole life with a single partner. This whoever is changing due cultural facts, current is not expected to a individual to stick to a single partner but it's a constant event on their community.

Hybrids between other species are rare, however it's uncertain if this is due their biology or they general lack of interest of breeding with other species.

Hybrids between Togruta and Twi'Lek were been recorded although their appearance are highly inconsistent. Usually they keep smaller version of the Montrals and their Lekkus are more similar with the Twi'Lek version, thus stopping growing at a certain length.

It's said they can have hybrids with human and humanoids species (such as, idk, Mirialans), but there isn't enough Togruta in the galaxy making out with humans to know exactly what that would look like.

They change the teeth twice during their lives, one time when they still cubs and another once they hit 60 ~ 70 years. This happens so they can maintain strong teeth for all their lives.

Their canine teeth are sharp ass hell, even more so when they are Cubs. This can be a problem because Togruta bite each other as a form of affection. Also it's not uncommon for them to leave bite marks in visible places on their partners. When other sentient species saw that they thought the marks were from fighting, but turns out it's from the opposite of fighting.

(Note: I saw some other writes with similar headcanons, specially in barrissoka fanfic, and it's cute! But I'm going to make a point here that they can easily kill small animals with their bite, so I get kinda nervous when people make Ahsoka bite Barriss's neck with "all her strength" because that would probably be enough to pierce her skin. So only small bites are allowed here, Barriss doesn't need die like that.)

Togruta's Montrals and Lekkus can turn shriveley if they are raised under stressing ambients. (That's why Ahsoka's Lekkus are so short for her age). Headcanon send by @kayberrie

History/Politics/Culinary

As I mentioned the Togruta were originally a migratory species, that means they used to made camps so they could hunt in certain areas and then move to another region once the resorts became scarce. This whoever changed with time as they learned to cycle their prey with the seasons.

This is a vague example, but during spring and summer they hunt Thimiars (a rodent species from Shili) and other small prey, but as the autumn comes they start to hunt bigger prey so they can store the meat for the winter. During the winter itself they fish. Base on that their villagers are usually construed near river and always with around the forest.

Unlike most of sentient life Togruta are against the domestication of animals, so to this day they still hunt for eat, however all the food (with exception of a few ritualistic hunts) are share with the whole village. So if they can't get food for a while they will start prioritize the children and the elderly while their adults focus on solving the problem.

A exception to that is the domestication of Shilidogs, a species of Tooka (relatives to Lothcats) the Togruta adopt as a companion. The Shilidogs keep pests way from the villages and are very good companions for children. Like a real dog.

Togruta development a way to dry the meat with a space salt (that I don't have a name for yet) so they don't have to throw away the rest of their meal.

Also they when they hunt they make sure to use every single part of the animal and are very against wasting food. The feet of the prey usually is transformed into soup (which they feed the babies and the elderly bc they believe it helps their bones to grow stronger), and the organs are smoked and eaten as a delicacy (god, I hope I used that word right).

As for the actual meat, they cook only with salt but don't you dare think it's blend or without taste! Think about a Brazilian barbecue, that's how it's like.

Once their society started to interact with other planets the Togruta became very close with Wookies and Ithorians mainly because of their ability of speaking Ithorese and Shyriiwook, but also because both of these species also live in forests and share similar values towards dealing with nature.

However their relationship with the Ithorians started pretty rough because when the Togruta first meet the species they believe to be prey animals. Which they kinda are... But this is all put in the past once the Jedi came and solve the misunderstanding.

Because of the Ithorians the Togruta learned how to make the own space ships without destroying their forests.

Because the Jedi help with their relationship with the Ithorians the Togruta respect their order very much and begin to send some of their Cubs to become Jedi.

With their population growth they decide to make a new colonie rather than open the forest to expend their villagers, that's how Kiros was born.

The government of Kiros and Shili are very different. The Togruta of Kiros adopt a lot of the republic politics and build their on government in reference, naming a Chanceller of their own and a senator to represent them to other planets.

Kiros also have big cities rather than the small villagers of Shili.

Talking about Shili government, they usually spread around the planet in small villagers led by a elder council. This villagers are independent but usually live with some level of collaboration, trading goods with each other.

Because they need to deal with other species now they do elect a senator and a small government situated in one of the few big cities they have, but Shili's Togruta couldn't care less about politics and usually let their colony on Kiros deal with all the trouble. If you go to a random village in Shili and ask the name of the senator chances are that most of the people will get it wrong.

Because of this trait most sentient species believe Togruta to be less intelligent, but that's not the case, they just have a different approach to politics.

Kiros is considered a mere extension of Shili, and although they have a more development government they still answers to the people of Shili.

Their economy with the republic are based on the commerce of healing herbs that they collect from their forests. They are far from being the richest being of the galaxy, but they gather enough money to buy the essentials for their survive.

Realistic they don't need much of outside resources anyway because the way they live it's pretty minimalist.

I already mentioned a few misunderstanding others species made while meeting Togruta for the first time, and there was a actual debate if Togruta could be considered a sentient species to begin with, but luckily for them both the Wookies and the Ithorians already faced similar problems and were able to help the Togruta introduce themselves properly to the rest of the galaxy.

Culture

As you problem can see, their society are very close to nature and try the best to not break the balance of the chain by hunting more than they need or building house in animals habitats.

They are usually led by their elder and wiser members, regardless of gender.

Both man and woman engage with all types of chores: Hunting, cleaning, taking care of the children, religion rituals, you name it!

I'm not finished writing their religion yet, but the have a vast pantheon of gods for various realms of adoration. Their most important gods are the a representation of the Sun, the Moon and the death, but I'm not going into details because I don't have any yet.

I mentioned that they don't like throwing away the rest of their prey, so they carve idols, toys and jewelry from the bones and make their clothes from the skin/leather.

Ancient Togruta also used bones to make weapons, nowadays this pieces are used in religious rituals.

Speaking of religion rituals, the hunt of Akul is exclusive made for religion purposes and it's considered a crime to kill a Akul without a reason.

The Togruta are very aware they had a common ancestor with the Akul so that's why they respect the animal so much.

When a child is given to the Jedi they first make a celebration with all the members of their village so everyone can say goodbye properly. It's a joy to have one of their own in the Jedi ranks, but it's also sad to some extent because of how close the communities are. That Cub would probably had live their entire life with them and know that they have to go the village take some time to assimilate that. (So yeah, Ahsoka got a little party with mommy and daddy before Plo take her to the Jedi temple).

Raising cubs is seem as a community work, so it's not rare to leave your kids with the neighbors while hunting or working. Usually is some elder man or woman who stays with the cubs since they can't work as well as they once did.

Some parents make straps bandages in their Cubs Montrals so they can grow in certain patterns. This is especially popular among the Togruta from Kiros and it is a mere esthetic proceed. It doesn't hurt the cub because their Montrals still soft.

They made a holiday to celebrate their friendship with the Ithorians! They invite their alien friend for a three day party as a way to say sorry for trying do hunt them down when they first meet. The Ithorians are a strict vegetarian species, so the Togruta gather exotic fruits to give as a present. The Jedi send represents from both species to act as mediators in case of conflict, but ever since they stated their partnership, hundreds of years ago, they never had any conflict ever again. They truly became best buddies! (And I like the idea of having this alien festival between species that are so different. Let me have my exotic aliens!)

They used theatre to record their history, so instead of books they told teach using their plays. Usually they are full of exaggerated acrobat acts and sometimes songs. Yes, they have musicals!

Their musical instruments are also made of bones and they particular found of flutes.

Kiros is specially connect with all forms of art and their government had imported Togruta plays to all around the galaxy. Their acrobats and singers are praise and recognize as one of the best of the republic. But that's actually why the Zygerian were so interesting on making them slaves on that incident on the Clone Wars.

The children games are usually a sort of exercise to teach them how to hunt, so if you go to one the their villages you problem going to see children "hunting" each other, lefting bite marks everywhere and being absolutely chaotic, but this is considered normal so the adults don't really care. Other species say that Togruta Cubs are usually a nightmare to be around. Their best friends (aka the Ithorians) are still scared of their children.

At some point in ancient history Togruta started to cook theirs meals, but they still eat raw meat on some occasions and specific rituals.

Besides the festival with the Ithorians Togruta have a few holidays they celebrate with their village. They really like a party and even the people of Shili have a special love for the art exhibitions they do during theses events.

That's it for now.

Please feel free to use any of these headcanons if you like them. Also I would love to talk more about them, so you can make comments or ask questions if you have any.

[franabz]

★ Task Force 141 Band AU (PILOT)

(my asks are open for whoever has questions or is interested in the concept!! feel free to slide in)

Soap would be the drummer, and a damn wild one at that. He was never really good at singing and has a tendency to hide away in his garage to slam away on his drum set like the gates of hell were opening up. He usually performs without a shirt due to how sweaty and overheated he gets while performing, simply personal preference. Like Price, he is also a massive enjoyer of mosh pits and sometimes begins playing even harder as he watches the crowd dance around and head-bang like a pile of fish. He loved it.

Gaz would be the bassist/background vocalist, always keeping on rhythm and adding that extra flair to each song that it just needed. He has a very nice singing voice, but is way too stage shy to be the lead vocalist, though many fans wonder how he could be so scared with the sultry voice of a godsend. Despite his shy demeanor on stage he is very upbeat and enthusiastic with each note played, whether it be head bobbing or full on hopping around stage like a lunatic when he is in the zone.

Price would be the manager and rhythm guitarist, easily the most experienced of the bunch. He is the one that organized the idea of a band and gets the group gigs and whatnot. On stage he is pretty laid back and reserved, though he does get very into the music. He also isn't very good of a singer due to constant voice cracks or flat notes because of his smoker lungs, something he refuses to quit despite best efforts. Despite his reserved demeanor, he absolutely loves it when mosh pits start, often tossing guitar picks into the crowd and watching the audience roar in shouting and cheers.

Ghost would be the lead guitarist and vocalist, though not very interactive with the fans. He has a deep and gruff baritone voice, one that makes the ladies swoon at just the mere thought, though he quickly learned to not pay any mind to it. When in the zone, he's an absolute beast. Fingers flying across the fretboard like it was the last song on earth, sometimes so hard his fingers would start bleeding all over his guitar; though he doesn't seem to care. Nobody had ever seen his face, which furthermore adds to the mystery of the masked guitarist.

The group was going through a dry spot in their gigs and decided it was time to find a new addition to the band; you.

Price decided to take the band to a local bar that was currently hosting a bands night, the perfect opportunity to find potential candidates to fill the secondary background vocals position. Everyone was on board with the idea of a new member, being enthusiastic about it if anything. But not Ghost.

"They'll all be shite." He'd repeat like a broken record, as if that would do anything to change Price's mind.

Now here they are, seated in a secluded part of the bar and scoping out the crowds like hawks, the soft intermission instrumentals and the dimmed yellow lights mixed with the lingering scent of alcohol and cigarettes filling the musky air.

Soap came back from the bar with four shots, setting the glasses onto the sticky wooden table and sliding into the booth beside Ghost, a small smirk across his lips.

"Figured ye needed some liquid courage b'fore tae bands c'me out." The Scotsman chuckled over the overlapping noise of crowded patrons, raising a hand to give Ghost a firm pat on the shoulder, one of which caused him to grumble something inaudible under his balaclava.

"Ts' all useless." Ghost grunted, raising the edge of his balaclava briefly to take a sip of his lukewarm bourbon, curling his lip in disgust. "You ever stop complainin', Si?" Price huffed, placing a cigar between his lips and lighting the other end with a cheep lighter, the thick smoke pooling from his lips and wafting into the air. "Jus' being realistic." He jeered, watching as the lights of the pub began to dim and the stage-lights brightened, illuminating the stage. A stage manager emerged from behind the wings and gently tapped the top of the microphone before clearing his throat and addressing the audience.

"Good 'fternoon everyone! I hope you are all havin' a good night!" The man spoke, his voice quickly followed by an uproar of applause and cheering. Gaz laughed lightly at the enthusiasm; mainly from the piss drunk bar patrons. "To start off this night, let's all give a warm welcome to the first band of the night, Woodland!" As he added that final segment, the audience roared even louder as the stage manager handed off the microphone to the lead vocalist of the band, a girl by the stage name Vixen.

As the band started loading on stage, Price was vigilantly scanning each member for potential candidates, already mentally rehearsing what he would say as a proposition to whoever he deemed fit for an invite. Ghost sat in his booth with a quiet scowl across his face, though it was mostly hidden by his balaclava. Everyone seemed the same as the rest; too cocky for their own damn good. He scoffed and leaned back in his seat, folding strong arms over his broad chest and reached for his shot glass, before pausing briefly, a flicker of interest crossing over his gaze as one member in specific crossed the stage and grabbed their microphone; you.

This was about to get interesting.

[awriterinthenight]

"I'll be less reckless, I promise"-Anthony Lockwood

requested: almost-gabrielle

words: 1240

warnings: mentions of blood, torture, Lockwood being an idiot and super reckless, reader being mad at Lockwood, cute little fluff at the end, this is a bit shorter than usual I don't know why I guess it just turned out to be shorter

summary: When Lockwood's recklessness gets him in trouble you have to save him, then bring him home and patch him up from his injuries

Stupid stupid Lockwood.

He was always too reckless, which led to many issues that we always had to fix. But this was a new type of recklessness. We had been offered a job that seemed a bit odd, but we took it since we needed the business. Me and George had wanted to do more research since we weren't exactly sure what we would be walking into. But, Lockwood being his reckless yet genius self, he decided to go on the job even though me and George advised him to wait till we discovered more.

We were sifting through papers when something caught my eye. There seemed to be a slip up in one of the documents, which showed the building wasn't owned by an old man like originally thought, but rather an angry relic hunter who's name I recognized from a few stories among agents. This man was known for luring agents onto a job, then using them to get a source to sell, or to try and find one he was already looking for.

Immediately I ran out and grabbed my rapier and some flairs tucked into my jacket, as I made my way to where Lockwood was. Luckily the building wasn't too far away from where we were, so I made it there in record time.

I slowly crept my way into the building, sneaking in through a window and down to the main area. I saw signs of struggle leading to a room in a corner. Making my way over there I noticed a small bit of dried blood, making me nervous.

When I made it over there it wasn't so much a room, but more of an area closed off by tarps. I peeked through an exposed part, looking into the spot where I saw Lockwood tied up to a chair. The man was in front of a table, his back to me, as he seemed to be preparing something.

"Just tell me where it is, and I'll let you go," the man said maliciously.

Lockwood's head seemed to lull a bit to the side, "For the third time I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, his breath a bit shaky.

The man chuckled evilly, "Oh, you know what I'm talking about. The little bracelet who recovered a few days ago. I'd been scouting it out and had buyers lined up, but you had to come in and ruin everything, didn't you," he said through gritted teeth, "But, if you can remember, then maybe I'll just have to jog your memory a bit," he said, smirking as he turned around a knife now in his hand.

At this moment I froze scared at what was about to happen. I tried to think quickly which led to me pulling out a flare and lighting it quickly, then running in to throw it at the guy. I just barely missed, only scraping his ear, as I aimed for his head. Fortunately though it was just enough to startle him and make him drop the knife.

"Don't move," I commanded, pointing my rapier straight at him. He stayed there unmoving before unsettlingly smirking.

"Come here to save your boyfriend, what's a kid like you gonna do," he said, underestimating me. I looked around for a moment before seeing a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I grabbed it without a second thought and dumped it all over him, keeping my rapier pointed straight at him.

I pulled out my lighter, flicking it on, "Move, and I'll light you on fire," I threaten. His confident facade seems to fade, as I move to untie Lockwood. I successfully free him, and the moment I do, we run like a bat out of hell. I could hear the man's footsteps as he followed after us, but we were faster, and able to get out through a broken window before he caught up to us.

Once we were a safe distance away, I found a pay phone and called for a night cap, since we were too worn down to walk home. Lockwood was resting on a bench seeming to try and stay conscious.

"Alright, thanks," I said, hanging up the phone as our cab was on the way. I moved to stand in front of Lockwood, "How could you be so reckless. Me and George warned you something was off, and to not go, but you just had to prove us wrong, and go on the bloody job. You should be happy that you're lucky to be alive. If I wasn't there you would've-" I don't get to finish my lecture before he cuts me off.

"I know, I'm sorry love," he says, reaching out a hand and placing it on my waist, "I was reckless, and I should've listened to you, but can this please wait till we get home, please," he says, his head hung low.

I let out a sigh, "Alright, but once we get home you are in for the lecture of a lifetime," I tell him.

Lockwood smiles softly, "I'd expect nothing less," he says, his voice low and tired. We wait a few minutes as our cab arrives. The driver questions Lockwood's state, to which I just lie, saying how we got back from a particularly rough case. He buys the excuse luckily and our cab ride back home is silent.

When we get out I have to hold Lockwood up as we enter the house. I put away my rapier and kick off my boots, as Lockwood does the same, but leaning against the front door. I help him up the stairs and to our room, where the moment we sit down on the bed he collapses into my arms. I hold him tight, placing a small kiss on his forehead.

"What's wrong?" I ask, even though I know that's a dumb question.

He lets out a shaky breath, "Everything. I messed up, and I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry. And everything hurts and my head is pounding," he admits.

I sigh, running my hand through his hair, "Wait here, I'll be right back," I whisper to him softly. I go to the bathroom where I grab the first aid kit and some pain meds. I return and start to patch up his wounds.

He settles me between his legs, his hands holding onto the back of my legs. I disinfect the cuts on his face, trying to soothe him every time he tries to hide a small whimper from the pain. Eventually I finish disinfecting and I bandage him up, running my hands delicately across his face, as he relaxes to my touch. I give him the pain meds which he takes gladly.

We both get ready for bed as he asks, "Aren't you going to lecture me like you said you would?" while getting comfortable in our bed.

I sigh, running my hands through his hair, "No, you're in enough pain. I'm sorry for yelling at you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay, you shouldn't be apologizing. I'll be less reckless from now on," he says, leaning over to place a kiss on my forehead, "I promise."

I lay my head on his chest, as his arms move to wrap around my waist. We stay like that till we fall asleep. Pleased to be in each other's company knowing that we're both safe in each other's arms.

[babybatss-blog]

Could I please get a Sirius x f!reader where they move in together after graduating? Thank youuu

BELLA DONNA

Sirius x f!reader, 740 words 

Authors note: so honoured to have my first request, I hope I did it justice! If you’re not familiar with the song, I’d recommend giving “Bella Donna” by Stevie Nicks a listen as it is a pertinent part of the story :)

cw: none ~

Highschool sweethearts. That’s what Sirius Black and you were known as at school. When you were 14 the two of you got together, in an unlikely pairing of a playboy and an average girl. No one thought that you would last, but now four years later it’s clear that you two were there to stay. The “pocket change” that Sirius�� family left him was more than enough to buy yourselves a small flat, with only three rooms and a tiny outdoor space only fit for a table and chair. Your parents were generous enough to gift a couple of appliances to you like a microwave and a tv, but apart from that the boxes packed into your new home were few and far between, not even constituting any help from your friends.  

So here you stand, hands clasped in his and staring at the empty floor surrounding you, unsure of your next move. You could unpack, but you didn’t have cupboards to place anything. You couldn’t buy any cupboards either, as you had no money left to spare. Instead, Sirius walks over to a box with his name written on it in bold letters, and pulls out a perfectly sealed package, about the size of a pizza box, but much heavier and thicker and hands it to you.

“For you, my love.” He says, looking down at you with the same adoration you’ve seen time and time again before sitting down on the cool floor. You smile, sinking into a cross-legged position and carefully peeling back the wrapping. Its purple, with black and white cartoon dogs spotted upon it. After a minute of slowly unravelling the pieces as to keep the wrapping safe, a cd player and a single cd that has “Stevie Nicks: Bella Donna” on it are unveiled. “Ever since you broke my record player, I know you’ve felt horrible. So, I thought I could buy something we could both use, with an album we both love.” Silence lingers, Sirius waits for your response, and you wait for the words to come to you. Eventually, you place the player to the side and open the cd, putting it in and pressing a couple of buttons.

“You can ride high atop your pony I know you won’t fall, cause the whole thing’s phoney”

Stevie Nicks’ soft voice calls from the crackling speakers, accompanied by the uplifting hum of instruments. You smile at Sirius, and he smiles at you, pulling you to your feet with him as he wraps his arms around your waste and yours around his neck, swaying to the soft beat.

“You can fly swinging from the trapeze scaring all the people, but you’ll never scare me”

Singing along, huge smiles are plastered on both of your faces. You felt horrible when you accidentally knocked his record player off the shelf, but Sirius could never be mad at you. Instead, he finds joy in any situation, just like he has done before in any challenging situation. Whispering in your ear, Sirius serenades you with the following lyrics. You’re his Bella Donna, a north star he will always fight for. Although the lyrics may seem outrageous, as the centre of Sirius’ universe he forever ensures that you know he feels this way about you. When the beat kicks in, Sirius jumps back from you into a dramatic flair, singing the words at the top of his lungs.

“No speed limit, this is the fast lane! It’s just the way that it is here.” You laugh loudly, joining in for the following lines. “And you can say… I never thought it could!” The two of you wrap your arms around each other once again, this time faces mere centimetres away from each other. Here in this baron house, their old school mates would have never imagined the two would be so happy. But until the sun goes down, you dance and sing to your tiny collection of previously acquired cd’s as if there is nothing else in the world but the two of you.

[yawn-junn]

₊˚⊹ Asshole ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

˚⊱ Thanks Too: Anon, Beomgyu, +×+

˚⊱ Note: writing this early so I don't have to stress about it thank you for requesting ♡♡

˚⊱ Taglist: @mxlly143 - @wonootnoot - @babigriin

˚⊱ CW: horror elements (very very soft) : homeless people : mentions of food : cursing : beomgyu's a dick :

˚⊱ Prompt: Abandoned houses

˚⊱ Dividers: @/strangergraphics-archive

09/4/24

Beomgyu somehow convinced you to go 4 hours outside of the small town you two live in, you stood in front of the worn down mansion. A nervous look covering your face while beomgyu looked a little too excited to be looking at brick older than he is, he nudged your shoulder "you excited?" He chuckled staring at your dead expression.

"You dragged me....4 hours out to stare at a house older than us?" You asked already over whatever he's planning, he laughed shaking his head, his already messy wolf cut going all over the place, "I dragged you to history....now let's go inside" he said without skipping a beat he grabbed you're arm dragging you inside while you protested, "beomgyu! No we can't be here it's illegal, why can't we go to an ice cream bar like every normal teenager" you're words made beomgyu laugh louder "come on! You're no fun" he said trying to be cute making you cringe and look away.

"I'm serious" you said putting you're hand up to block the horrific view you just had, "no what you are is a buzz kill, come on" he pleaded roughly moving your hand away pointing his flashlight in your eyes, you squinted using you're hand to cover your eyes "jesus-" you said before he pushed you in while you were recovering, "I said-" you tried beomgyu put his hand over your mouth "I don't care" he smiled innocently at you before letting go of you, walking through the abandoned house.

Everything was left almost everything untouched other than what other kids like Beomgyu brought in, graffiti covering the floral wallpaper, "woah" Beomgyu whispered showing you vintage papers, "it smells so bad" you complained covering you're nose, Beomgyu nodded his head in agreement "smells like you" he teased, making you launch yout hand to the back of his head, knocking him off guard for a moment, "oh-" he said almost cursing before he nudged you, "asshole" he muttered rubbing the back of his head.

You sighed trailing behind the tall boy while he pointed out random things, "yo!" He yelled out "look" he exclaimed pointing at broken rubble, making you deadpan at him "yeah it's kinda everywhere-" you rolled your eyes, he shook his head "no look" he said making you turn your head back to it, that's when you seen a head of black long hair, making both of you pause, beomgyu less afraid went up to it, you gasped "what are you doing" you whispered to him, he waved you off picking up the wood plank over the hair.

Screaming he jumped back in fear, making your fear flair up as you quickly took steps backwards "what?! What?!" You asked scared, beomgyu with shaking eyes looked back at you. His entire body shaking "its-its a doll!!!" He said laughing, you're fear quickly vanished as you picked up a rusty piece of the cieling throwing it at him, "fuck you" you huffed, he laughed harder coming back to you. Wrapping his arm around you're shoulders "you looked so scared" he laughed harder, "I should've recorded it" his words make you hit his gut, quickly he stopped laughing letting go of you he doubled over in pain.

Rolling your eyes you turned you're flashlight down the hall, gasping "what?" Beomgyu asked recovering from his pain even tho it still hurt, looking he saw a homeless man sleeping down the hall, neither of you were sure if he was asleep or dead, chosing not to investigate you grabbed Beomgyu's arm forcing him back the way you two came "let's go" you whispered, beomgyu being just as weirded out he nodded not wanting to disturb the sleeping man, holding on to you tightly just in case something happens.

Once safely making it outside the abandoned house, Beomgyu opened his car door for you "I'm sorry I dragged you out here" he spoke softly, a tone Beomgyu never uses. You looked up at him shaking your head "even tho I was pussy, I had fun" you giggled making Beomgyu smile, he shut your door quickly going to the driver door. "food?" He asked buckling himself in you nodded hunger growing over you, the two of you drove back into the small town searching for at least one place open at this time of night.

[surrealisticduvet]

Album Review – Cosmic Partners: The McCabe’s Tapes (Live 1973) (2019 Release)

“Well, I don’t know if you’re familiar with Red or not, Red Rhodes, the pedal steel guitar player. I would hope that you are because Red’s like, uh, my cosmic partner. Between he and I, we plod on keeping Saturn in orbit…”

Cosmic Partners is arguably the best live album Michael has put out, although it’s hard to compare. With a selection of hits from the beginning of his songwriting career through 1973, along with some covers and instrumental classics, the track listing and sound quality is enough to make this a great record. However, what really makes it special are the transitional tracks with Michael’s introductions, anecdotes, and laughter. From the moment you put it on, you are transported to this moment in time - up until it cuts off suddenly when the tape runs out during “Silver Moon”. Coming back down to earth is jarring and a little upsetting - but it emphasizes just how good this recording is. 

Favorite parts of the album:

This album is so good I can’t even pretend to be reviewing it critically. Let me just gush. 

The intricacies of each pre-song anecdote or offhand joke are endless; and that’s without getting into the depth of “The Great Escape,” which is a real-life Monkee-romp retelling with classic Nesmith flair. The band is fantastic; Red is in fine form and deserves all the applause he gets and more.  TLDR – I highly recommend listening to the whole album if you have the time. 

more below the cut!

I love every track, but the standouts for me are as follows: “Grand Ennui”’s intro here is like no other (played on the track “The Sock Cymbal Scared Me”) with the way he shifts from completely dissolving into laughter over several false starts to pulling himself together and launching into a growly first verse; this album’s version of “The One Rose” (again with a very darling intro) is technically perfect in spite of (because of?) the stumble at the beginning; this take of “Propinquity” is what I’d consider the best recorded version of it, ever. As a closer, “Silver Moon” is impeccable, enchantingly heartbreaking. And again, the way it ends so suddenly leaves you hungry for more, desperate to hear what the people in that room heard as the song and show closed out. 

Critiques:

None! Leave a comment if you can think of any. 

Conclusion:

Endlessly charming – truly grateful that we have such a good recording of this night. I wonder about how long he knew the tapes existed before he decided to release them, as well as what prompted him to do it in 2019 (besides, well, interest being high enough for production.) Not to be too sappy here but I’m sure relistening was an emotional experience, and I think we’re very lucky to be able to experience that along with him. The rest of the band is good, but it’s the relationship between Michael and Red that really sells the whole thing and makes it work; Cosmic Partners, indeed.

[eddygoldarm]

Headcanon about the undead trio because I think this could make a cool story :

Mortis used to be a normal human like you and I, but he was always fascinated by death, probably because he lost a close one very suddently. He was considered as "the weird" cousin by his family, but he was liked enough (He mayyyybe was part of the Start family? He has the same haircut as Belle and Colt lol).

He studied death for many years, it wasn't a morbid obsession, but more of scientific one, he wanted to understand every facet of it. His knowledge and familiarity with death lead him to become a mortician. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), during one of his graveyard expeditions, he fell in a hole, and almost died. By chance, there were gems in that hole, and these allowed him to resurrect, but also to mutate.

Mortis became a vampire, well, not A VAMPIRE, but something really close. His body was more adapted to live at night, and he had a small control on the undead, but most importantly, he became immortal. This was probably one of the first cases of gem mutation ever recorded. Because of his mutation, his family started to reject him even more, but he didn't really care, with he newfound powers, he could now understand what it's like to be undead. He could possibly find the key to resurrection.

A few dozen years pass, Mortis lives as a hermit in the graveyard, slowly outliving all of his family members. While he is included in, he's losing all the ones he was close to, and the younger generations are too scared of him to approach him. Because of his loneliness, Mortis lost a lot of his flair, and went on full creepy vampire uncle-mode.

It's during this period that he manages to ressurect his first person, thus creating Frank. I'm not sure if Frank is a Frankenstein monster, or if he's just a regular zombie that happens to mook like it. He wasn't totally successfull though, as Frank can't speak and has difficulty with basic dexterity. It didn't matter to Mortis, for the first time in his life, he had a real friend. In reality, Frank couldn't stand Mortis because he almost treated him like a pet (Frank is limited, but not dumb.).

A little while later he also bonded very closely with his great-great niece (EMZ), she was also a bit of a weird girl (but in a cool way not like Mortis), and though having an undead goth uncle was awesome. As he watched her grow up, he regained his happiness, as well as his pride, completely endorsing his character as a cool dramatic vampire. He also started to treat Frank like a real person, and to really care about him.

Sadly, EMZ passed away very early, Mortis was devastated, and instead of moving on, he tried to resurrect her, and this time, it worked perfectly. Well, not really, while she could think, speak, and move around perfectly, EMZ's body had already started to decompose. She looked like a moving corpse.

This made her life miserable, as her schoolmates were mocking her constantly. She was also terrified of immortality, as she realized she was going to outlive all of her loved ones like her uncle did. EMZ started to resent him for what he did. She became some kind of a bully, she acted like a litteral monster to scare away people.

Mortis couldn't fix his mistake, but with the help of Frank, he managed to make her regain her confidence in herself (idk specifically how though). He promised he wasn't going to resurrect anyone anymore, and that he's gonna be there for her forever no matter what. And so EMZ, similarly to Mortis years ago, completely endorsed her role, becoming the goth emo zombie bad bitch we all know and love today.

Today they're all chill with each other, they all live together at the cemetary. Mortis is still a mortician, he's still dramatic but he calmed down with the necromancy stuff. Frank is an amateur DJ and EMZ is a popular beauty influencer, and she's now inspiring a lot of girls to embrace their differences and to show their true colors to everyone. Frank and EMZ roll their eyes at Mortis' bullshit but they still love him

Maybe it's a bit too sad.

[imsparky2002]

Miraculous Animal AU - Science Class

Zoe the Wasp - Though her and Chloe are not technically related, they've been together since birth and see eachother as sisters. Even though they're sweeter than Chloe, Zoe has a sharp pincer that she uses for hunting her food. She also loves movies and punk rock songs that play on the record player. They adore their hedgehog mate, Cosette, and often fly on its nose.

Aurore the Swan - Aurore's a big, beautiful and elegant bird, who also happens to be a nervous wreck 90% of the time. Due to society's expectations of swans to always be radiant and magestic creatures, Aurore can be a perfectionist, scared of failing in the eyes of her elders. It's only thanks to being with her friends and her penguin mate Mireille that she's learned how to relax and simply live life for herself. One of her favorite things to do is to honk about the weather with her girlfriend to the other animals on each farm.

Mireille the Penguin - Mireille is as quiet and chill as the temperature they prefer to live in. She's often waddling around to see what the weather is like, and their favorite pasttime is going for a nice swim in the pond. She often finds it hard to open her beak and speak up, but is working on it with the more extroverted animals. They also like visiting their older brother, Theo, who is the pet of a famous artist.

Jean the Macaw - If you want to see an animal with flair, vigor and theatricality, look no further than Jean. A particuarly passionate parrot, Jean loves to strut his stuff wherever he goes, showing that they can squawk the squawk and walk the walk. They adore the theatre, listening to all sorts of musicals from the record player and copying certain words that he learns from the scripts. They also put on little shows for their friends, with the help of some of the more theatre-loving animals. He cherishes his mate, a nerdy deer named Austin T.

Lacey the Cheetah - Lacey always has a need for speed, so don't coop her up. As the fastest not just of Farmer Olga, but of all the farms, it's Lacey's job to catch any troublemakers trying to sneak in. She also loves parkour, racing for glory against Kim, Alix and Aggie. Because of her low stamina, she can often be found napping in various parts of the farm. Be thoughtful and don't wake her up.

Denise the Bison - Denise is one bulky bison. They grazing, rolling around in the dirt, and prefers to be in a herd rather than alone. A very social bison, they want to make sure everyone feels included in daily activities. They may be huge, but they're one of the friendliest and calmest animals on the farm, always willing to be pet. There's only one animal that can make them blush, that being their serval mate Simon.

Simon the Serval - A snarky and slender serval, Simon's a cat who is always trying to nab pieces of technology to use for himself. Some of his friends call them "Keyboard Cat" since he constantly paws at the computer as if it were a majestic artifact of God. They also can be rather grumpy in the morning, needing to climb a tree or mark territory to cool off. Sometimes, he likes jumping onto the back of his bison mate and going for a ride.

Cosette the Hedgehog - A spunky and spiky critter, Cosette's always in the mood for exploring, digging and foraging. You can often find it sniffing its' friends, rolling around in a ball, or digging with its claws for treasures. They love makeup, and have made some out of various substances found on the farm to put on its' animal allies. One time, Cosette and their foxy friend Alya tried to recreate something they saw from a Sonic movie. They were sad to find out foxes couldn't actually fly.

Ismael the Raccoon - A witty little gremlin, Ismael proudly identifies as a "trash baby". He likes digging through garbage, collecting various items from the bins to put on display at his room for the other animals to see. He's a night owl for sure, usually hanging out with the other nocturnal animals around the various farms. You can often hear him chittering with a meowing Simon, as they snark about various things.

Reshma the Elephant - A polite and elegant elephant, Reshma never forgets to cherish her friends. She often trumpets about new ideas for fashion, and her best friend Ismael is as protective of her as she is with him. Her fashionista friend is Marinette, the little ladybug. They are always working together on new animal attire, despite being vastly different in size. She loves wrapping her trunk around her cheetah mate, Lacey, and her polar bear mate, Margo.

And that's the Science Kids! Thanks to Coco and Weebs for the animal species ideas. Make sure to watch out for the Recess Class who will be the next farm to show. Give a thumbs up and show your support in the reblogs and replies. @artzychic27 @msweebyness @nerd-chocolate

[brokehorrorfan]

Knightriders’ original motion picture soundtrack is available on vinyl for hte first time for $40 via Scare Flair Records. Composed by Donald Rubinstein (Martin, Tales from the Darkside: The Movie), the score has been remastered for vinyl from the original master tapes.

The double-LP album is available in two color variants: “Fighting the Dragon” 180-gram red/black and orange/yellow colored vinyl and “Brother Blue” 150-gram transparent blue colored vinyl (limited to 50). It’s housed in a gatefold jacket featuring classic art by Boris Vallejo, new art by Gary Pullin, an 11x11 program of events insert, and liner notes by Rubinstein.

[gisachi]

Twenty Words: Shinichi/Ran

Drawing inspiration from prompt challenges. Twenty prompts, twenty sentences of twenty words each. Fluff and angst. Pairing, ShinRan.

Dominant - “What do you mean? We’re not competing,” Shinichi laughs, licking his lips, “We’re in love, ‘course I’ll let you lead.”

Wartime - He reaches for her hand despite every resisting muscle under the armor — after all, how dare he aid the enemy?

Sleep - The tranquilizing dart is ready behind his back, then she says, “Don’t you dare, Shinichi… let me finish for once.”

Pattern - Whenever he returns, she doesn’t say ‘You’re back’ — for a tiresome pattern of two years, he never is, never was.

Discipline - “On your knees, Shinichi,” Ran glares and Shinichi bites back a menacing smirk, taking that as reward more than punishment.

Outcome - The worst combo - murder case during a long-awaited anniversary date - leaves him with the worst outcome: Ran’s week-long silent treatment.

Champion - Shinichi champions himself as a smart man, but Ran somehow manages to dumb him down everytime she smiles like that.

Waste - “It’s not wasted time if spent with people you love…” Shinichi glances at Ran, ears red, his words fading shyly.

Hidden - ‘Wait for me’ — hidden in Shinichi’s study, she reminisces the ten-year-old plea, forlorn smile confirming her final answer to Araide.

Award - To Shinichi, it isn’t the trophy that matters most, but Ran’s grin of victory from the bleachers everytime he scores. 

Book - Shinichi can read Ran like an open book - god he wished he couldn’t - because he’s down to the last page.

VCR - Ran smiles, a wistful one, before playing the cassette, a ‘96 news recording, “See, that’s your dad right there, Sakura-chan.”

Mob - She goes past the mob into the source of commotion, stunning Shinichi and the knife-wielding culprit with a roundhouse kick.

Speech - A declaration of love, a fearless kiss – Shinichi’s always one for dramatic flair, and tonight, he jumps off a cliff.

Sinner - Maybe he shouldn’t stay here, wrapped in the arms of an Angel, for sinners like him don’t deserve hundredth chances.

Immortality - Count Shinichi clutches at the faded photograph, and weeps – to live another century without this woman is his death sentence.

Girlfriend - “What if I stop calling you my girlfriend…” before Ran can react, Shinichi’s on one knee, a ring in hand.

Shaking - Ran thought nothing could scare him, until a shaking hand grips hers after the dentist chirps, “This won’t hurt, Kudou-kun!”

Westbound - Of the many times they’ve visited Osaka, they arrive with hands entwined this time, and Heiji and Kazuha are thrilled.

Holiday - May 4th isn’t a holiday, but she leaves work early anyway; otherwise, nobody will light the candles on his grave.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

The True Story of the Boise Murder House

805 W Linden Street in Boise, Idaho, its covered in a layer of soot, with windows broken and boarded up and trash strewn about the yard, the 2-story, 2,728 square-foot Craftsman-style home looks like an abandoned horror movie set. 

Known commonly as the Boise Murder House, the home is also sometimes referred to by locals as the Chop-Chop House, a glib reference to the gruesome homicide that took place there more than three decades ago. In the early morning hours of June 30th, 1987, 37-year-old Daniel Rodgers and 31-year-old Daron Cox shot and killed 21-year-old Preston Murr in the basement of Rodgers’s home at 805 W Linden Street. The two men then used an axe and knife to dismember his corpse, wrapped the pieces in plastic bags, and drove to the Idaho-Oregon border to dump the body parts in the Brownlee Reservoir. Horrifying as the facts of the crime are, there is one detail more haunting than the rest: Murr almost escaped.

According to court documents, an altercation broke out around midnight between the three men and Murr was shot in the shoulder by one of the two others. Having somehow managed to flee the home, he ran to a nearby house and banged on the door begging for help, but no one answered. The neighbor inside did call the police, however. He reported hearing pounding on his door, as well as someone screaming “let go of me,” followed by an anguished yell. Peeking out his window, he saw someone chasing Murr, eventually catching him and dragging him back into the basement of Rodger’s home, where he was fatally shot in the back of the head.

Though police never responded that night, they were called again the next morning by the same neighbor who asked officials to come investigate blood on his screen door. The blood found throughout the neighborhood—on sidewalks and at least one other neighboring house—further painted a harrowing picture of Murr’s desperate attempt to escape his murderers the night before. While the crime scene has long since been cleaned up, a dark legacy lingers around 805 W Linden Street to this day.

It’s unclear what happened to the house in the immediate years after Rodgers was sent to the Idaho State Correctional Center to serve out a life sentence without parole, but property records available online list a new owner, James Howell, as of 2000. Howell has since rented the house to a number of tenants and, given its proximity to Boise State University, it’s become a popular choice among students seeking off-campus housing. As a result, local lore about the house has a decidedly collegiate flair: One persistent rumor claims that fraternity brothers have reported seeing blood dripping down the walls of the basement for years. While there is no truth to this tale—and 805 W Linden was never an official frat house—many former residents say there is something “off” about the space.

“The basement was creepy and had a weird feel. We would take people down there to scare them. I never saw any ghosts but you could tell something wasn't right,” Joe W., a former BSU student, told a local radio station, 107.9 LITE FM. Another Boise resident, Rachel R., told the station that her family almost bought the house back in 2000, and to this day she still gets anxious when thinking about their tour of the home. “It looked like it had been abandoned and the basement was by far the creepiest part,” she said. But of all the accounts shared with 107.9, the strangest tale, submitted by Dan D., goes well beyond the basement.

According to his story, one night Dan and his friend thought they heard someone trying to break into the house. When they went out to the front porch to check things out, no one was there. After looking around the front yard, Dan turned to face the house and saw a “big black oily looking thing” in the window of a bedroom upstairs. He remembers seeing the shadow-y figure move back from the window and towards the bedroom door before it disappeared. Shortly after, it reappeared outside in a mirror sitting on the porch. Dan watched as the “ball of oily blackness” moved down the large column of the porch, slowly growing in size until it took up the entire reflection of the mirror and moved right through him. “It was the weirdest, most disturbing thing I've ever felt and just typing this makes me feel it again. It's like ice fingers sinking into my shoulders,” he said.

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Saturday, June 7 LOCATION: Anita’s Birthday Party PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Kieran (@debauchfairy) SUMMARY: The lads attend the birthday party of the year and get less than desirable readings from the fortune teller. Still, they manage to have a good time. CONTENT WARNINGS: Wrspice (implied at the end)

—

Two days. Fuck’s sake, it’d only been two days. It really shouldn’t have mattered, shouldn’t have hurt like it fucking did, but then Wyatt supposed there was more at stake than just a boyfriend, wasn’t there? It was a friendship, built up over much more than two days, that had suffered a blow. That was the hardest part. That, and being shown once again that he wasn’t good enough. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he fucking tried to be there for someone and support them in every way he could, it was never going to be enough. The grass was always greener somewhere else. Which was fair, maybe, considering his profession. Considering his, until now, firm refusal to ever entertain the idea of having a serious relationship. But it still sucked.

Naturally, his thoughts first turned to the surprise party he’d been invited to but had assumed he wouldn’t be able to attend, on account of Charlie being in the hospital. But that was Finn’s problem now! And Wyatt really just wanted to get shitfaced and not think about how terrible he felt! Then, just as naturally, his thoughts turned to Kieran. Someone he’d only had to avoid for one fucking day, someone he was glad he hadn’t told he was unavailable, because he couldn’t stand the idea of the other man teasing him for what had to be the shortest relationship on record. Kieran didn’t know shit, and he didn’t need to know shit. Wyatt, on the other hand, needed a dose or seven of that feelgood… stuff. He really ought to ask Kieran to explain it, some time. A text was sent, invitation extended, and Wyatt did his best to clean himself up for the party. He even managed to sneak in a couple hours of rest beforehand, too drained and upset to care more about being scared than he did just making his brain shut up for a little while. Hours later, slightly fashionably late, he picked Kieran up and the pair were on their way to Anita’s house up in the Pines.

The party was already in full swing when they arrived, and was just as extravagant and flashy as Wyatt would have expected out of his friend, who of course had a flair for the dramatic. Upon learning about the disco ball entrance, he regretted their tardiness, but it still seemed like this was going to prove to be one hell of a party. 

“Ahh, ma cher! Bonne fête!” Wyatt hollered jovially as Anita approached him after spotting him, exchanging familiar greetings and a quick moment of unburdened catch-up before she was moving on to welcome to the next person. He snaked (haha) an arm around Kieran’s waist as she moved away, eyeballing the margarita bar and knowing precisely the spot that would be their haunt for the night. Or his, at least. Guiding Kieran in that direction, the lamia made quick work of getting them each a drink, finding himself scanning the crowd as he turned back around to face the party. “Y’know, I’m only just now realizin’ how awkward it’d be to see someone here that I tried to eat, but fucked it up,” he said in a low voice to Kieran, wearing an amused grin. “Don’t happen often, mind, but… there’s been a few.” That man in the woods came to mind, the one he’d been chasing before he ended up in a hole in the ground. So did that redheaded woman—though if he saw her here, he was going to have much bigger problems than just an awkward encounter.

—

There had been way less trepidation in Wyatt this time around as he extended an offer to join him for a birthday celebration. A celebration of whom was a mystery and also, irrelevant. Kieran could make friends wherever he went and he was also just fond of meeting the shifter again. Especially in a setting like this - completely over the top and lavish, almost as if Kieran himself had had a hand in the decorating process. Although he was less green, more blues or purple. He’d definitely have to make Anita’s acquaintance properly later tonight or at a better opportunity - she seemed fun. For now though, Wyatt had his attention, maybe even needed it. 

There was a clear shift in the other man, even if it was being expertly hidden underneath a friendly bravado and whether it was for Kieran’s benefit, the rest of the partygoers or simply so Wyatt could pretend? Unsure. Not to say the faun wasn’t enjoying this confident version, allowing Wyatt to lead him through the crowd and reveling in it because he knew he looked good. Wyatt did too, to some extent, but there was room for improvement when it came to wardrobe - it wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t Kieran-level eye-catching and luxurious. Next to the scorching red ensemble of jacket and pants, black shirt cutting through the color and buttoned down for comfort (honestly, who wore things buttoned all the way up except nuns), it was inevitable that Wyatt would pale just a bit in comparison. 

Scanning the crowd as his companion did, which felt a bit pointless since Kieran could have met half the people in here already and already have forgotten about it. Whether or not they had forgotten about him was a whole other thing but, as Wyatt conversationally offered up a similar train of thought, Kieran figured he had less to worry about than the shifter. Bit harder to forget almost getting caught up between the jaws of a giant reptile than a night out that ran a bit too long and wild and could maybe be blamed on drinks or drugs. As long as you didn’t know about fae. “Playing a bit too much with your food?” Kieran shot back, his own smile cheeky. How much did Wyatt know? How much did he care to know? If he had any suspicion that Kieran… well, also liked to play with his food, he didn’t seem to mind it too much. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it, handsome - if anyone tries to give you grief, I’m sure I can win them over with my charm.” Unless Wyatt had a penchant for eating wardens, fae or the undead. Sipping at his drink, Kieran once again tried to get a proper read on the man, who seemed a little too eager to drink a little too fast. “Drinking to forget, are we?” 

—

“You could say that,” Wyatt agreed, knowing that that man in the woods would have no way of recognizing him like this, but there were others that might. He’d gotten a bit careless as of late, in… all aspects of his life, really, not just how often he shifted in front of strangers. It was nice to know that Kieran would back him up, though, even if it was probably only to save their evening from getting out of hand too early. He smirked appreciatively, and not seeing anyone that he could recall having blown his cover in front of, he was able to relax just a smidge.

Kieran seemed to pick up on his need for comfort in alcohol, a balm for his mind that was not firing on all cylinders, and the lamia shot him a look. “It’s been a rough week,” he explained half–heartedly. Isn’t that what he’d said the last time they’d met up? He was having rough weeks all the fuckin’ time, now. It was ceaseless. 

The music was loud, but not too loud. There was a fortune teller outside and a jar of worms inside, and Wyatt wasn’t sure which was weirder. He could only laugh and shake his head, appreciating his friend for her weirdness and the fact that it did manage to help take his mind off of all the shit that’d happened that morning. At least as long as he kept conversation going, and especially as long as he made sure to keep Kieran close by. Whether it was the man’s mysterious influence or just plain old connection, Wyatt felt better for it. Oh, and the alcohol, of course. That had a lot to do with it, and he was throwing back cocktails like his life depended on it.

—

At the very pointed look shot his way, Kieran raised both hands in surrender, a contrast to the lazy smirk on his face. A lot, if not most of Wyatt’s life was still a complete mystery but from what he could gather, it was a shitfest. Kieran was well aware he was being employed as a distraction from whatever harrowed the shifter just as Wyatt was most likely aware that he was a way to pass the time. Probably not aware that he was a meal - something that would be explained if he pressed about it but it really seemed like the man was blissful in his ignorance. Anyway, time to prove just why Wyatt kept coming back to this particular distraction. 

Dragging Wyatt away from the cocktail station too soon wasn’t an option so Kieran let him loosen up via tequila, offering commentary on the other party goers - daughter or trophy wife, knock off fashion items, who looked like a solid subject for secretly harboring one kink or another - all of it murmured quietly from the comfort of Wyatt’s personal space. 

“Seriously, it’s such a cliche,” a young woman scoffed, leaning against the margarita bar and throwing back her hair. “Saying I’ll find love is such basic fortune teller bullshit.” Kieran couldn’t not overhear the complaining, the lady was drunk and loud, and that seemed as good of a way as any to properly start off this night. 

“Come on, let’s go see what misfortune lies in store for us tonight,” Kieran proposed, slipping an arm around Wyatt and leading him forward before protests could be made. Protests did seem unlikely - those blue eyes were already beginning to glaze over and there was the small thing of Kieran literally being able to get whatever he wanted if pushed in that direction. “Maybe she can tell whether or not you’ll get off tonight,” he added teasingly, voice low but not really quiet, earning a few curious glances and smirks from the guests they were passing. Not that Kieran needed a fortune teller, fake or otherwise, to know how the night would go in that regard. Had you really thrown a successful party if no one snuck off to violate one of your rooms? It was a kindness to the host, really. “You’re up first, sweetheart.”

—

“Pft,” Wyatt scoffed in response to Kieran’s suggestion, “come on. As if she'd take one look at me and assume anything other than yes. Yes, of course he will, for God's sake, get a load of him.” The shifter gestured vaguely at himself, then laughed. “You'll get a load of him—” he pointed a finger at Kieran, spinning around just in time to realize they were outside in front of the small tent and the fortune teller was staring out at them expectantly. “Oh.” He stood there for a moment to get his thoughts together, his gaze flicking to Kieran briefly. The woman smiled and gestured at the chair across from her. 

“Mister Barlow, please. Have a seat.” He bristled at the use of his name, looking uncertain for only a moment before remembering that Anita had probably given the woman a guest list. With pictures, even, so she could pull this stunt. He drew himself up again, looking smug as he sat down across from her. This was going to be funny, he thought.

“So, what's your deal? Tarot? A crystal ball? Palm reading?” He threw Kieran a knowing smirk, and the woman seemed unfazed by his skeptical attitude. 

“None of the above.” The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Rest your forearms on the table, palms up, please.” Looking between the two other people in the tent, Wyatt reluctantly complied, suddenly feeling very ridiculous. The woman rested her hands on top of his, her index fingers pressing against the tender undersides of his wrists, and her smile faded.

“Oh… oh, you're…” she began, her brows pinching in the center as she frowned, eyes still closed. 

“... what?” Wyatt felt his heartbeat quicken despite his certainty that this was all a dramatic display, a fun party trick. The soothsayer's frown lessened, and she opened her eyes to look at him. Wyatt didn't like how it felt like he was under a microscope and shifted in his seat, waiting for her to say something. 

“I see… you're the same as our host, aren't you?” Wyatt’s back straightened and he lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes at the woman. Anita wouldn't have given that information, of that he was certain. At least… he hoped not.

“Better, some would argue,” he responded proudly. It was him. He was the one who would argue that. The woman let a small smile creep over her sharp, striking features, but there was still a sadness to it that Wyatt couldn't help but notice. 

“Of course… a master of your craft. Since you were… a child, yes?” Wyatt was stunned, blinking a few times but not responding. The soothsayer continued. “In spite of your success, there is a vein of disappointment here.” She tapped a finger against his wrist. “Of… regret. Inadequacy.” Wyatt scowled, pulling his arms back toward himself as he quickly stood up out of the chair. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped at the woman, loathing the slight pitch in his own voice. “You don't know what you're talkin’ about.” 

“Of course I don't,” she agreed calmly. “But you'd better take better care of that heart of yours before it gives out on you. Just some friendly advice.” Wyatt huffed, feeling pissed and freaked out all at once as he turned his attention to Kieran. 

“This is a waste of time,” he growled, but another part of him wanted to see if Kieran would also have such a… belittling reading. If only to prove that he had good reason to want to rip this dumb bitch in half. 

—

Drunk Wyatt held nothing back and it was a refreshing change - even if Kieran didn’t mind the ‘fight for pay’ giant reptile being all flustered, this was fun, too. He snickered at the fortune teller’s unflinching gaze, most likely used to drunken and suggestive language if she frequented parties like these. “Do try to behave,” Kieran teased, ushering the man forward when he paused at the use of his name. There were many ways to pull a successful hoax without any use of actual magic and knowing a name definitely didn’t require anything of the supernatural sort. And at the very least, she wasn’t fae. No sneaky kin of his was getting their hand on Kieran’s company for the night. 

Hands in the pocket of his jacket, Kieran leaned against the sturdy pole bearing the weight of the tent, meeting Wyatt’s expression with a bemused one before the ‘reading’ finally began. And it was… quite something. Innocent enough and vague at first - like the host? That could mean a plethora of things but Wyatt had sat up a little straighter, a bit tense. It only spiraled from there. 

It was definitely cheating, acquiring this information from a third party but Kieran filed it away someplace safe nonetheless. Probably unnecessary to know for however long he intended to spend with Wyatt but one never knew. As for the information being true, well… Wyatt stood like he’d been slapped and not in an enjoyable way, eyeing the woman like he might consider tearing her to pieces. Not a valid response to fiction, Kieran supposed. The angry attention turned to him and flirty, boisterous Wyatt was definitely preferable to angry, murder in his eyes Wyatt. Because Kieran didn’t want the giant alligator tearing anyone to shreds while he safely watched from the sidelines… right? “Then let’s leave,” Kieran offered simply, wanting to either ease those frustrations or at the very least put them to good use. But Wyatt hesitated and it gave the woman a chance to speak up. 

“Afraid what your reading might reveal, Mister Lucero?”

Scoffing, he glanced at Wyatt who suddenly didn’t look as urgent to get out of here. Fine, whatever. Maybe it would soften the mood, at the very least prove he wasn’t afraid of some words. Taking the seat, keeping Wyatt in his periphery, Kieran offered up his palms with barely noticeable hesitancy. “Hmm.. afraid seems to have been the right choice of words. You are… hiding. Isolating-”

“Alright, this doom and gloom is- well, it’s not fun. Or interesting,” Kieran cut in, snatching back his hands and standing with slightly less obvious annoyance than Wyatt had. Speaking of Wyatt, he no longer found the idea of the shifter losing his temper appealing, he just wanted them to be anywhere but here. “Stick to cliched love predictions, lady,” Kieran tried to say jokingly but it held more of a bite than he meant it to. Just in case, and also because he could and it made the raised tempo of his heart slow, Kieran settled into the comfort of letting his influence wash over Wyatt to lead him back into the swing of the party. If only that lady knew how lucky she was that Kieran didn’t encourage his company to be less friendly. “Another margarita,” he stated simply, letting the return of the music and the faint sense of blood and water and adrenaline that was Wyatt wash away the absurdity going on in that tent. 

—

It was morbid curiosity, really, that held Wyatt in place for so long. Which wasn’t very long at all, relative to how much time he’d let the weird woman talk shit about him, but it felt like an eternity when you considered the fact that he just wanted to snap this woman’s head right off. Kieran had had enough after only a few seconds, and feeling his anger surge again only to be quickly quelled as if someone—Kieran—had dumped a bucket of water on the fire made the shifter flounder for a moment. He blinked, confused as to why his heart was beating so fast when he felt so calm, and let himself be guided out of the tent, nearly forgetting the entire thing altogether. Or at least forgetting how upset he’d been. “Yeah,” he agreed, docile once more but rediscovering his stride. Though he’d felt sober back in that tent, now that he was away from the irritant, his thoughts doggy paddled to stay afloat in the sea of tequila he was trying very hard to drown them in. Or were they floating on an inflatable flamingo with their own margarita in hand? Judging by the way his good mood had returned so swiftly, he was banking on the latter. Praying for it, actually. Let his night be nice, for once. 

The drink was here and gone again in an impressively short amount of time. And once his hands were free, Kieran was insisting that they go out on the dance floor and salsa with everyone else. Wyatt only hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if he’d rather just stay by the bar and keep drinking, but eventually relented and let himself be pulled into the center of the room, beneath that disco ball he’d heard so much about. 

In his efforts to not appear totally pathetic in front of Kieran, Wyatt called upon his natural talent for dancing and silently demanded that it supersede how fucked up he was right now, remembering everything Anita had taught him about salsa specifically during their evening hangouts and putting it to good use. And hey, he was pretty good! Or so he thought. Kieran wasn’t laughing at him, so that was probably a good sign. Though he did like making Kieran laugh. He also liked inspiring him to make other sounds, sounds that couldn’t really be achieved out here on the dance floor. 

Dipping his date low and slow, Wyatt dragged him upright again and held their bodies close, wearing a cocky smile. His lips brushed the other’s ear, and in a voice quiet enough only to be heard by the intended party, he muttered, “You wanna head upstairs?”

—

There were a few things Kieran appreciated about tonight’s company, other than the obvious factors of his looks and sexual prowess. Wyatt was enjoyable company, interesting and usually (when he wasn’t tripping over himself for a hit of hypnosis) able to keep up with Kieran. Also, he didn’t mind the feedings in the slightest and even without them, was easily convinced into all sorts of things. Like a spin on the dance floor, for example. And now, dancing skills got added to the list of things that made Wyatt preferable to so many others. Not that he wasn’t without his flaws - the shifter would break eventually and Kieran was not the kind of person to stick around to pick up the pieces, much less know how to put them back together. Hopefully, this breaking point wouldn’t be reached quite yet. At the very least, Kieran wanted the chance to see Wyatt’s skills on the dancefloor sans eight cocktails. 

This was fine for now, though. More than fine, even - Anita didn’t mess around when it came to party planning and her guests were drunk and happy. Even if Kieran’s attention was mostly on Wyatt, who had been allowed to take the lead for dancing purposes and was currently proving he deserved that status, the faun was wrapped up in the comfort of overflowing joy and pleasure all around him. It didn’t hurt that, in Kieran’s humble opinion, they were putting the other dancing couples he could see around them to shame. The dip was a nice touch and apparently the closing act, a familiar glint having appeared in Wyatt’s drunken gaze once Kieran was vertical once more. 

“In blatant violation of the rules?” Kieran asked in mock offense, only managing the briefest of moments before the wicked grin broke free. “Obviously.” Anita was properly busy, teaching her guests how to salsa (if she had been the one to teach Wyatt, then more appreciation was due her way). A rope blocking the stairway, accompanied by a very clear sign, made it obvious that ‘upstairs’ was off limits. Shockingly, it did little to deter them and if any of the other guests noticed, they were either too drunk or too apathetic to intervene. 

“Think your friend will forgive you?” Kieran didn’t really care about the answer, nor did he figure Wyatt cared much about his friend’s forgiveness once his back was shoved against the door, closest room commandeered, hands and lips already wandering. Treacherous thoughts definitely not flitting back to what had been read from the hands currently pulling at Kieran’s suit, or his own. Because it had definitely been bullshit. Good thing lying didn’t count when it came to thoughts, and even better that Wyatt was a great distraction. 

—

The answer to Kieran’s question had been little more than a chuckle — of course Anita would forgive him. In the eight months they’d known each other, they’d become quite the troublemaking duo and had grown rather attached at the hip. If Anita was going to be okay with anyone ignoring her house rules, it would be Wyatt. They shared something special and beautiful, after all. She could never stay mad at him!

Pinned against a door, Wyatt’s thoughts were quickly diverted from his lamia friend, focusing on the here and now—palms sliding up his torso beneath his shirt, lifting it over his head and interrupting the mouth on his neck, but only for a moment. A groan was building in his throat as he thought of the soothsayer’s words, not experiencing the same flare of anger as before (likely thanks to Kieran) but instead finding determination to prove her wrong. He wasn’t inadequate, goddamnit. He was a champion. And he was not a little bitch, even if Kieran’s influence sometimes made him act like one. Tonight wouldn’t be like that, he decided. Once the rest of their clothing had joined the pile on the floor, he gripped Kieran by his hips and guided him backwards toward the bed, leaving no room for protest—not that he expected any. His affection was rough and possessive, in stark contrast to most of their nights together so far. 

If Kieran was hiding from something, then let him hide in this. If he was isolating, let him forget it in this moment of being coveted. And if Wyatt was a disappointment, let him make up for it tenfold now.

[the-gory-gazette]

Unique Talent Shocks at Talent Show Tryouts

April 16, 2012

At Monster High, uniquely talented students are admitted by the claw-full. Operetta and Holt Hyde rock all major records in the Music Department, Draculaura has a wicked awesome flair for creative writing and Toralei Stripe’s thrilling acting chomps continue to stun the school every semester. At this year's talent show tryouts, we learned that a few new student bodies are no exception to the rule.

Robecca Steam and her steam punk boots brought scaredevil to a whole new level! She guarantees to thrill monsters with amazing stunts and tricks unrivaled by any other contestants. Venus McFlytrap is planning to use her perfumed pollen and stage time to woo monsters into saving the environment. From what MHGG staffers saw, she's bound to scare up a few new supporters. Rochelle Goyle may not be a lawn ornament but her impersonation of a monster statue is pretty un-dead-on. And, let's not forget Jackson Jekyll's mad science magic show featuring his pet chameleon, Crossfade.

What do all of these talented student bodies have in common? They always adhere to the Monster High motto: Be Yourself. Be Unique. Be a Monster!