#two punk guys who are considered dangerous

[chloesimaginationthings]

Monty and Michael match each other in FNAF

[lockandkeyblade]

First Rule of Ghost Fight Club

I've been convinced to make this a multichapter so if you see a fic crop up with the same name hey, hi.

Several months ago the GiW, flush off the success of having the Anti-Ecto Acts passed– even if they had to hide it beneath several hundred adjustments to agricultural and infrastructure legislation– made a mistake.

Their little campaign of hatred was going well, maybe too well– so why not make it public? Why not grasp for a little more power, incite some torch and pitchforks? There were a dozen roads the stupid bastards could've taken, but they wanted the shortcut. The highway.

They decided that their next campaign against the ghosts would be to release several videos highlighting the utter destruction left in the wake of their fights. Show America there was something worth fighting on their hometurf. Make them angry. Make them vicious.

Jason figures they’d expected some backlash for it. There would've been a PR guy, or ten, or twenty, paid the big bucks just to sit around and consider it all. He'd interrupted enough board room meetings in his youth past life that he's got a pretty damn good idea of what to visualize; a bunch of white guys, forty plus, sitting around and deciding how people they did not know, understand, or give two fucks about were likely to receive this kind of news.

Ghosts were real, and terrible. The slogans were equally as bad, of course. And that wasn't on the PR team- that was on whatever dead-eyed millennial got paid way too little to give a fuck. Grandma can't cook you pies like she used to- she's too busy eating your soul. Little Timmy who fell down the well has taken one too many pointers from Samara Morgan. That kinda shit.

Someone was still gonna care about 'em. Someone was gonna call this inhumane. Someone would look into that Act and realize ghosts; talking, once-living people (some of 'em), had less rights than the average lab rat. Someone would start a protest.

The GiW would've thought about that and prepared for it. They must've felt invincible enough to chance it anyway, because they started uploading their 'documentaries' on the barbarity of ghosts online. Probably stroking their cliché ass moustaches and puffing cheap cigars all the while.

The fuckers would've expected all that. What they didn't expect, when blasting the world with their little softcore snuff vids, was how into it the world became.

Ghost fights? Were fucking badass.

And now the whole world knows it.

Gotham, especially, knows it. Gotham loves it. This was the kind of thing that was made to take over the nightlife of an already unhinged city; sports bars replacing football with the newest renditions of that one robot dude smacking down a couple of buildings, taking bets on what was gonna get him first– Danger Twink, Little Red Flying Hood, Morally Ambiguous Scientists, or The Man.

Proper names for each entity- and every other painfully stereotypical character involved- were hard to come by, initially. Most of those founding videos had the sound swapped out for the screams of children, flat voiceovers of scientists reminding the people that ghosts don't feel, so don't feel for them.

The bars played 'em on mute and blasted their own tunes over the top. Others had their own live MCs to commentate on the action. Robot dude got the name Gadget Goatee, the sweetass punk rock girl was On Fleek. The ghost seemingly addicted to boxes was Box Ghost. Names like that. When camera crews of reputable (and not so reputable) sports channels started sneaking into Amity Park, some names got adjusted. Some didn't.

The day pre-fight interviews began to happen was the day Jason seriously started considering why the Justice League hadn't gotten involved yet, enough to ease that question into conversation with Dickiebird. To sate his curiosity, no other reason. Turns out, Danger Twink had asked them not to. And the Justice League, full of some of the most anal and controlling people Jason has ever had the misfortune to meet, had listened to him. The petition signed by almost the entirety of Amity Park's population had probably helped.

Apparently, the city didn't want or need help. On the fighting front, at least. Nightwing is as in the dark for what, precisely, had been shared about why that was, but it was enough for Batman to raise the requirements for permission to be obtained by any hero wanting to go into Amity Park’s space– and for the rest of the founding members to approve them. 

JL's continued efforts to flatten the GiW and their miserable Anti-Ecto Acts had been cheerfully encouraged. Everything else, though? That was Danger Twink's problem. Or Phantom's joy, if you asked Jason's opinion on the matter. Not that anyone did.

The reality these days was that the government agency, high off their own fumes- as they often were- managed to fuck themselves right out of existence. And the ghosts? The ghost fights?

They were there to stay. Impressively contained within Amity Park with a startling level of confidence and control, all thanks to one girl on a hoverboard and a dead guy.

Place was even considered a chill place to visit, contrary to the continually televised property damage. The fights continued to maintain a level of popularity that was almost feverish, stealing their way into primetime television, spawning a couple dozen streaming services that would inevitably cannibalise themselves.

Oh, Jason could see the appeal of those fights. Hell, if he thought he could get away with it, he’d join ‘em. Sure, most of Gotham was into it for the more obvious reasons. Vicious mauling and extensive infrastructure repair that wasn't their problem, for once. Something new to bet on, some cool people (dead, alive, or never alive in the first place) to throw merchandise around for. The phenomenal amount of simping, the utterly batshit rule 34 that could be found online. A few ghost themed cocktails. All that good shit.

Jason just liked the sound.

He hadn't gotten into the videos until he could hear 'em, the ghosts themselves. It was something he kept to himself, seeing as- hey, no one else was mentioning it. His family was likely to think him insane again, so that was another deterrent. Nah, let folks think Red Hood enjoyed having that shit on in the background for...inspiration. Of the this might happen to the next person who crosses me variety.

But nah. He just, liked the sound.

It was like a secret concert, just for him. Some of those fights might as well be fucking operas. Full on musicals with a bit more green blood to 'em. Every ghost sang in a way Jason couldn't describe. There was a vibrato to it all, otherworldly and entrancing. A resonance that seemed to sink past his skin, right down to his soul.

They sing about obsession. They talk about what matters most to them, the parts of their unlife that are their beating hearts, their drive, their love. Every fight is an illicit fantasy, an almost embarrassing revelation of the people beneath the caricatures– Gotham sees neat fights, and Jason hears souls. 

It was simultaneously off-putting and addictive.

And fuck him sideways, but sometimes? The songs were kind of cute.

Especially the ones for Danger Twink. Most of the songs were for Danger Twink. Phantom, as he kept trying to tell the media, over and over again. The kid barely looked legal, though it was hard to tell when he was, y'know, six feet under. Brat could be 

Bruce's great grandpa several times over, for all he knew.

But he wasn't, if the songs were anything to go by. As far as the ghosts were concerned, this implied to be twenty year-old was, in ghost terms, baby. He was baby.

All the other ghosts knew it. All the other ghosts adored it. A solid fifty percent of the songs Jason could hear, day in, day out, were basically gooshy renditions of look at our small king. Our light. He has grown so much.

That Phantom’s response is usually the equivalent of mom please, you’re embarrassing me, as he makes a crater out of the earth with his opponent? Classic.

In a way, this whole shebang the world was addicted to was just a community trying to rear their child. Their potentially important child, or just important to them. Jason really didn’t know which way it was leaning, and it’s not like he could ask.

Really, he was just content to witness, maybe fantasize, a little, about what kind of songs they’d sing under his fists. What kind of song Phantom might sing, if Jason pinned him into the dirt.

One video changes that.

It’s a new one. Gotham is terribly excited by it; wherever Jason goes, he sees advertisements and hears people talking because– new ghost. New ghost. A new challenger approaches. The bars and the television companies keep any hints of who or what this late entry to the game might be, and it’s smart. Everybody’s talking about it. Fuck, even Tim is talking about it, and that little idiot hates the whole thing. Thinks it’s sickening that any being’s pain could be turned into sport.

Not that he’s wrong, just, y’know. No one’s really being hurt. 

Jason thinks he might also be… a little anticipatory. He’s gotten awfully familiar with the usual roster, their songs something that rattles off in his head throughout the day. He knows– heh. He knows what Phantom sings back to them. Intimately. Has that part memorized, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

He wants to hear Phantom sing about something new. That’s what’s exciting.

It’s exciting right up until he’s slouched down at a bar, eyes fixed to the screen and the cheers of the crowd around him drowned out by a tune that turns his blood to ice, stirs up something that’s been quiet in him for years, until his eyes flash green.

Because the new ghost doesn’t want to play with Phantom. He wants to own him. Like a dog. With discordant notes that sound like laughter, high pitched and crazed, like a metal pipe slamming into his face, over and over again–

And Phantom is defiant, glorious, powerful.

Afraid.

Jason doesn’t remember getting onto his bike, but as he heads east, he knows exactly where he’s going. Fuck permission, fuck the Justice League, and fuck Phantom for trying to handle that sort of shit on his own.

He doesn’t know how he’s gonna do it, but this Plasmius guy? Is about to learn what it’s like to die. For the second time.

[rusalka52]

Tell me l'm pretty

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

summary: You and your friend, Barty, sneak out of Hogwarts to go see this new band that is doing a gig near you. Little do you know that a particular raven haired Gryffindor has his eyes set on you and is determined to prove how pretty he is.

cw: drinking, mention of smoking, make out scene, Sirius is described as a bit of a bully in this one

3.4k words

A/N: this is my first fic l've ever posted on tumblr!! I've already planned a short second part for this one so let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in it. My requests for Sirius are also open if anyone is interested :3

“Dorcas, stop being such a wuss and help me do my hair already!” You huff as you throw your head back in exasperation, looking over at the apprehensive girl stood behind you. “The only one in danger of getting expelled right now is me, not you. Well Barty as well but when is he not on the verge of expulsion.” You giggle looking over at the brunette Ravenclaw boy next to you who just sticks his tongue out mockingly.

You were currently sat in the seventh year Slytherin girl’s dormitory getting ready, or at least attempting to get ready, for this new, up and coming punk band’s latest gig taking place just outside Hogsmeade. Their name was “The Siren Attack” or something along those lines. You didn’t really care, you just wanted an excuse to dress up with your friend, sneak out of school grounds and get drunk. Maybe even find a cute guy to snog if you’re lucky. The latest issue of Witch Weekly described them as the hottest new band in the wizarding world urging anyone close to one of their gigs to not miss it under any circumstance. They were basically asking for Hogwarts students to sneak out!

“Who else from our school do you think will attend?” Barty asks you as he applies the finishing touches to his dark eyeliner.

“Hmm I don’t know. Not anyone else from Slytherin that’s for damn sure,” you scoff, “they’re too uptight for that. No offence Cas, you know I love you” You were trying to put your hair into two buns at the nape of your neck but you were failing miserably, the desk a mess of hair ties, bobby pins and hair spray. “Fuck it.” You sigh letting your hair fall down naturally. “We don’t have enough time for this, if we don’t get going now, we will be late and there won’t be any available tickets. Barty! Did you hear me? Get up for Merlin’s sake!” You raise your voice grabbing the younger boy from his shoulders and yanking him off his seat.

“Fine, calm down! I’m ready! A man can’t even put on his earrings in peace anymore” He rolls his eyes.

“Cas, are you sure you’re not coming?” You give the girl behind you one final look while staring at yourself in the mirror, making sure everything is in place.

“I already told you, I’m not risking expulsion for some silly band.” She says getting annoyed.

“Some silly band which that McKinnon bird is really into…” You correct. Dorcas shoves your shoulder playfully and flops down on her bed.

“Don’t call her "bird ", it makes you sound like Sirius Black!” She giggles as you look back at her, mouth agape. What a horrible insult directed at you, from someone you considered a friend no less!!!

Before you can retort, Barty grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of your dorm, reminding you of what you said before about being late.

~

The seventh year boy’s dorms over in Gryffindor tower weren’t in better condition either. Clothes tossed on the floor, two half-empty bottles of hairspray on the desk, a cracked mirror, music blasting so loudly the walls shook, and two boys screaming frantically at each other. Remus was smart enough to go sit in the common room to avoid the ruckus that was bound to play out but poor Peter was caught in the crossfire of the other two boys trying to get ready in time.

“James, where is my studded belt?”

“Belt’s in the top drawer. Pete! Have you seen that one black shirt I have the one with the- oh never mind it’s right here I’m standing on it...”

“Careful with the eyeliner you almost poked my eye out, mate.”

“Sirius, get the cloak, I’m ready.”

“PRONGS WAIT! I can’t find my damned wand.”

“Shit, where are my glasses?”

“WHERE IS THE BLOODY MAP!?”

After the two boys finally got their belongings in order they sprinted out of the door, nearly knocking a first year down the staircase. Peter was left in the dorm room, shell shocked from the battlefield he just witnessed. “Bloody hell, those two are worse than girls when getting ready.” Remus shook his head as he lowered the music, returning to his room the moment he saw the portrait slam behind them, accompanied by a shriek from the Fat Lady.

~

As James was heading towards the concert with Sirius, safely hidden beneath his invisibility cloak he started complaining about how he managed to get talked into going to this “stupid” gig. “I don’t even like music like that and you know it Pads. And I need to focus on N.E.W.T. this year like mum said. And I have quidditch practice tomorrow morning at 6am! Can you believe that? OH, and I've been making really good progress with Lily too, if she finds out I snuck out she will surely be cross with me. And I still need to-’

“ACHOO!”

A loud sneeze behind them interrupted the Gryffindor’s rambling and the two boys suddenly snapped their heads to see who it was, worried it might be a professor or prefect doing their nightly rounds and had heard their whispering. Not like they would see them, but it was still nerve-wracking, maybe their feet were visible from under the cloak. Security at the castle was bound to be tight tonight since word of the “Siren Attack” concert had spread throughout Hogwarts. They saw two figures approaching at the other end of the hall and they quickly scurried towards the wall. “Get the map” mouthed Sirius to James. But before James could even open his bag the two boys heard two familiar voices bickering.

“Bloody hell, Barty, with your allergies!” You whisper yelled, slapping Barty on the shoulder and looking around, praying that no one heard you.

“It’s not my fault! You know that!”

“Ugh, whatever, just keep walking before anyone sees us and we get in trouble. Can’t let Dorcas be right!” You groan passing right by the two boys under the invisibility cloak.

They stay put until they see you round the corner with Barty.

“I suppose they're going as well. Come on, Prongs, hurry, we can’t let them get the last tickets.” Says Sirius as he playfully shoves James towards the secret passageway that leads to Hogsmeade.

Sirius couldn't say that he was surprised when he saw Barty going to the gig but he really wasn’t expecting you to be accompanying him! He didn’t really know you that well, being in different houses and all, but he had taken notice of you since you were in the same year. You were decently attractive, he thought, although the dark clothes and intense makeup you wore now did make you more appealing to him. He always assumed that you were like every other Slytherin girl. Mean, catty, a gossiper, and most likely blood-purist. A blood-purist with a relatively good music taste, he thought, not like it makes a difference but it’s something.

~

You and Barty are three people away from reaching the ticket booth and two people ahead of James and Sirius, who you of course noticed since they started yelling and being obnoxious the moment they approached the queue. You looked around and spotted a couple Ravenclaw seventh years and one or two Hufflepuff boys from Barty’s year. The rest were either “Siren Attack” super fans that went to all their concerts or random people you didn’t recognise from the surrounding area.

5 minutes and 1 galleon later you finally enter the club and immediately get separated from Barty. You can see his thick mop of brown hair making a beeline towards the front of the stage, kicking and elbowing people to get out of his way, either careless or simply oblivious to the nasty looks people were giving him. If he wants to get beaten to a pulp by some jacked up skinhead you are not going to intervene. “He’s a sixth year and in Ravenclaw, for Salazar’s sake he should know better…” You roll your eyes as you head towards the bar.

What you had not noticed was a pair of grey eyes following your every move. For some reason Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off you, how did this prim and proper young lady from Slytherin (!) even end up at this place, heading towards the drinks no less! He had to find out more.

“Mate, come on, you dragged me all the way out here just for you to get distracted during the opening act by some lass from school.” James attempts to drag Sirius towards the center of the venue but the raven haired boy breaks free from his grasp coming up with a vague excuse of wanting a drink. James groans knowing already how this night will play out.

~

“One firewhiskey shot, please.”

“Make it two shots, mate.” Sirius calls out to the bartender as he leans on the bar next to you. You don’t even bother to turn to look at him, being able to recognise that annoying voice and suffocatingly strong cologne anywhere. Not that you paid attention to how he smelled, it was just difficult to avoid when he was constantly sitting behind you in charms since first year. You keep your eyes laser focused on your wallet as you pull out your money to hand to the bartender as he brings over the two drinks. Sirius, however, is faster than you and pays for both your drinks before you even outstretch your hand. You reluctantly put your coins back in your purse and grab your drink.

“What? I don’t even get a thanks?” Sirius laughs, mirth evident in his voice. “Merlin, why is he talking to me? Is he just going to try and humiliate me in public like he has done to countless other girls? Is he going to ask me out on a date and before I can even respond he will start laughing in my face telling me he would ‘never go out with someone like me’ and embarrass me in front of everyone, like he has done plenty of times in the corridors in between classes?” Your thoughts race.

“Thanks, I guess.” You offer him a tight lipped smile in an attempt to be polite.

“You’re pretty.” He says, confidence dripping from his lips like honey, downing his shot in gulp.

“Thanks.” You look sideways towards him and follow his lead, maybe this will take the edge off.

“Do you think I'm pretty?” He whispers in your ear moving closer to get a better look at your face.

“Uhh yeah sure, I guess?” You look directly at him this time no longer avoiding eye-contact. You take a step back and look him up and down and shake your head. “You’re alright-looking, I suppose! Anyway I have to go.” You smile, patting his shoulder and walking away to find Barty to make sure he’s still alive.

Sirius is left standing at the bar looking at your retreating form dumbfounded. No one had ever refused his advances in that way before. They usually had a valid reason, such as them being in a relationship, no one has ever told him that he was just “alright-looking”. Godric, he felt so stupid, is this how all the girls he rejected felt, he wondered. No, Sirius Black is not just “alright-looking” and he would make sure you know that.

Your plan that the comment you made would stop him from pursuing you unfortunately backfired and instead it had the complete opposite effect from what you were aiming for. You hoped he’d get the hint to not make fun of you, not that you were challenging him! Sirius might not have been fully interested in you before, only looking for a quick snog from a pretty girl and maybe something more, but now things were different. He had to show you how pretty he can be and change your mind.

“Is the little snake not interested?” James giggles when he notices Sirius’ shocked expression as approaches the bar. “Don’t worry, mate, I’m sure there’s other girls here that are single!” He pats his friend on the back and orders another round of shots for the two of them.

“She called me “alright-looking”.” Sirius states still looking off into the crowd where you disappeared.

“No… surely not. She must be blind to not see how sexy you are!” James winks teasingly, faux flirting with his friend. Sirius rolls his eyes and turns back to the bar grabbing his shot.

~

Approximately 30 minutes later the opening band finishes their set and the headliners get on stage. Immediately after the lead singer takes the mic and screams at the crowd to “Get wild”, a sudden panic breaks out. Girls screaming, guys pushing their way to the front and shoving everyone around them, people jumping to the beat. No way in hell are you enduring all this.

“Barty, I need a drink, do you want anything?” You tell your friend, screaming over the loud music. He shakes his head no and you push your way towards the bar. Hopefully Black won’t find you this time, busying himself with some other girl or guy. Fate seems to not be on your side tonight seeing as the moment you reach the bar you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. Your eyes drift over to his arm first, focusing on the messily applied chipped black nail polish, he probably fancies himself a punk or something, the intricate silver rings adorning his fingers, the veins running up his forearm. You tear your eyes away immediately. “Salazar, what’s the matter with me! It’s Sirius Black for Merlin’s sake, focus!” You think to yourself as you turn your head to look at his face.

You see his lips moving but there is no sound coming out. You go on your tiptoes and lean your ear closer to his lips to hear what he said. The music is deafeningly loud for such a small venue.

“Let me buy you another drink, darling.” He whispers, lips grazing your ear and arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, pulling you closer. Now, under normal circumstances you would have pushed him away, maybe even slapped him for this but tonight was different. The alcohol was flowing, the music was good and the crowd was overwhelmingly energetic. So you decided to not push him away and humour him, for a bit at least.

“And why should I let you do that?” You whisper back, a teasing lilt underlining your voice.

“Because this way I can show you how pretty I can really be. Plus you’ll be getting a free drink out of it. A net positive for the both of us, don’t you think?” He replies enthusiastically.

“Hm. Fine, go ahead and order, I suppose”

The drinks arrive, he pays, arm still securely placed on your waist, and he turns his attention back to you.

“So, tell me, love, how come you ended up in a place like this?”

“You do know that Gryffindors aren’t the only ones with good music taste, right?” You answer, raising your brow and looking up at his grey eyes.

“Well, colour me shocked!” He replies sarcastically with a faux surprised look on his face.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, “I have to say I’m more than pleased to see you without that horribly prudish uniform they make us wear at school. Who would have known you were hiding figure like that…” he replies, eyes trailing down towards your chest. “Your shirt definitely highlights your… umm… assets.” You should’ve been annoyed at his vulgarity and very shameless ogling but you were hoping to find a cute guy to snog. And there was a very cute, and evidently very willing candidate right in front of you.

“Oh yeah? What else do you like about my outfit?” You ask, looking up at him and resting your hand on his shoulder, fully turning your body towards him.

“I would tell you, but you still haven’t answered my question from before. Do you think I'm pretty?” He tilts his head like a puppy as he licks his lips.

“Well, I did say you were alright-looking didn’t I? My answer remains the same, unless there is anything you can show me that will change my mind.”

“Oh, darling, I definitely have things I can show you.” He replies, his voice low and teasing. His hand ghosts over the empty space between your shirt and skirt, fingers grazing your skin lightly, inching his fingers slowly under your shirt.

You suddenly grab his arm to stop him and he looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Restroom…” You whisper looking around. If Barty, or anyone else from school for that matter, sees you snogging Sirius Black in the middle of a concert your reputation would be done for. Your hold on his arm tightens as you start leading him towards the women’s stalls. You can vaguely hear him whisper a “fuck, finally” as he obediently follows behind you.

~

Once the door to the furthest stall locks his lips are immediately firmly planted onto yours and you definitely don’t hesitate to kiss him back.

After a second Sirius pulls back and looks deep in your eyes.

“Why did you stop?” Your voice comes out in a whine, breathless from the kiss.

“Tell me I’m pretty.” He says, almost demands as one of his hands reaches up and tangles itself in your hair, making sure to keep you head facing him.

“Is this really what this is about? Do you really want to hear me say those words?” You ask teasingly.

“Mhm.”

“Say please.”

“Please…” His voice is now more akin to a dog whimpering and panting rather than a human.

“You are very pretty.” You finally say, giving him what he wants, and he doesn’t waste a single second, going back to kissing you immediately after those words leave your lips. His hold on your hair tightens and you gasp as his tongue meets yours. He tasted like that horrible whiskey he had been drinking all night and all the cigarettes he smoked, the flavours making you dizzy, as he starts lowering his head, kissing and sucking on your neck. You feel his other hand start to hungrily, maybe even desperately, push up your shirt, squeezing and grabbing any flesh his hands could reach. His hand slowly reaches behind your back ready to unclasp the hooks of your bra when a sudden and loud knock on the stall door interrupts your moment.

“Open the damn door already, I need to piss.” You hear a drunk girl slur against the restroom door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, not now.” Sirius whispers breathless as he pulls away from your neck, his lips red and sore from his fervent kisses a second ago. You gently put your hand over his own, which is still positioned under your shirt, and slowly push him away.

“Maybe another time pretty boy, hm?” You whisper to him.

“Oh, definitely.” He nods enthusiastically, as if in a daze.

~

The next morning -thankfully a Saturday so no early classes- you wake up with a horrible headache, a dizziness that you can’t seem to shake off, a need for scrambled eggs and a cup of coffee, smudged makeup all over your pillow, your bag open next to your head and a feeling that something is digging into your back. You sit up in your bed, rubbing your eyes and turn to look behind you. Sirius Black’s fucking wand is right there on your bed. That son of a bitch! He must have slipped it into your bag last night without you noticing on purpose so you’ll have to go up to him the next day and give it to him, actively making you embarrass yourself. You cannot believe the gall of that guy. He is unbelievable and a massive cu-

“Is that Black’s wand?” Dorcas asks, interrupting your train of thought.

“Uhhh no…” You say, quite unconvincingly, while hiding the wand under your covers.

“Huh, right, I’ll pretend I believe you for now. Go get dressed so we can head to breakfast. I'm starving! Oh! And you have to tell me everything that happened at the concert last night!!!” Dorcas exclaims grabbing you by the arm and pulling you up.

tags: @gastroentred

Likes and reblogs help a lot! And again if anyone wants to be added to tag list for the second part just let me know i will gladly do it!

Requests: open :D

PART TWO IS UP NOW!!!!

[februarybluues]

enemies with benefits. || 1. - p.u.n.k boy!

warnings: swearing, fighting, you and hobie hating each other, reader gets slightly injured but nothing that bad, horrible british (i'm very sorry🙏 )

part 2 - wounded.

You were bold, abrasive, honest, and never afraid to fight for what was right. He was the exact same - if not even worse. Logically, it was obvious for people to assume you’d be best friends. But, they couldn’t be further from the truth.

You heard a lot about Hobie. Mostly from Gwen and Miles rambling about ‘how awesome he was’. They told you about his cool style, his badass attitude, how caring he was, and pretty much everything there was to know about him. When they said he was a great guy, you almost believed them. But, your opinion quickly changed when you met him for the first time.

Miguel had called you to see him immediately, without giving any context as to why. Logically, you were confused and quite frankly, a bit scared. Did something happen? Were you in trouble? Needless to say you rushed over to him as quickly as you could.

“Y/n. New mission for you. There’s an anomaly that’s broken free and it’s jumping from dimension to dimension, wreaking havoc. I need you to stop it from corrupting anything, alright?” his face remained stoic as he spoke in a low, orderly tone. You smiled. It was no secret to anyone that you loved to fight. Whether it be fighting a villain as spider-woman, or fighting a sexist scum as y/n. You loved to make the world a better place. And you looked sick as you did it.

“Got it. Just send me the location and consider it done.” you responded, eagerly. Miguel cleared his throat, which caught your attention. “No, no, no. This is way more dangerous than your usual anomaly. You can’t do this on your own. Which is why I've assigned Hobart to be your partner.” You looked at him, confused. “Hobart? Who the fuck is that?” Without missing a beat, you heard the sound of rustling behind you. “M’right here.” you turned around, only to be met with a cocky smile, and a thick english accent. You quickly examined him. He was your stereotypical punk; tight jeans, combat boots, a sleeveless vest that was littered in pins and patches, and a guitar on his back. Everything about him screamed asshole. It was then that you realised he matched Gwen and Miles’ descriptions. There was no denying it, you were looking at the infamous Hobie Brown.

“You must be Hobie.” you held your hand out to him for a handshake. But he pressed a kiss to it instead. “The one and only.” he winked at you. You pulled your hand back, rolling your eyes at him. ‘Great.’ you thought to yourself. ‘He’s one of those people. A selfish, self-absorbed, cocky flirt.’ your head already jumped to conclusions, despite not knowing him for more than five minutes. You hadn’t realised you had been staring at him until he spoke up again. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” you scoffed at him, turning to talk to Miguel instead. “You can’t be serious. You know I work alone. I always work alone. I can handle this by myself.” Miguel shook his head, not wanting to hear your complaints. “I know. But, this is a job for two people. And, I firmly believe that you guys will work together greatly.” As much as you wanted to fight alone, you knew Miguel was right. You sighed. Hobie opened his mouth to speak again, but you cut him off before he could spew another snarky comment. “If you-” “Shut up with your elitist bullshit. All of you punks are the same.” You turned around yet again to look at his face. He immediately perked up with slight anger. You were testing his patience. “Aye. I’m no elitist! I don’t believe in’at crap! I don’t believe in labels!” your smile got smaller, but it stayed there nonetheless. “Yeah well I don't believe that you’re as cool as they say you are. Bet you’re just all bark and no bite.” his lips quirked up into a slight smile, completely disregarding what you had to say. “They? Who’s they?” his eyebrow raised, which made you notice his abundance of piercings. You'd be lying if you said they didn’t suit him. “Miles and Gwen.” you answered, the tone of your voice was slightly annoyed. He lit up slightly at the mention of their names. “You know Gwendy ‘n Miles?” “So what if I do?” His eyes grew wide, you could see the cogs whirring in his head as he put the pieces together. “Wait. A’you tha’ badass that kicked the teeth in o’that group o’knobheads?” Ah. So, gwen and Miles must’ve talked about you as much as they did him. Fucking hell his accent was almost incomprehensible. “So what if I am?” you crossed your arms at him. He scoffed. “And here I thought you’d be nicer.” you rolled your eyes and focused your attention on the portal you opened up. “Come on, we can finish this up later - after we’ve beat this bastard.” You spoke, pointing inside the portal. For a split second you both shared a smile. “Right behind you, mate.” And with that, you walked into the portal, mockingly mumbling his accent as you did so. “mate.” 

You landed in the alternate earth with grace, quickly scanning the area to make sure no one was there. And then Hobie arrived. His chest bashed against your back, which caused you to almost fall forward. “Whoops. Sorry about tha’'.' he smiled, but he wasn’t sorry. His voice was laced with a teasing venom. You turned your head to look at him. “You did that on purpose, prick.” you scowled at him, and his smirk got wider; cockier. “Yeah, I did.” he admitted. You couldn’t believe him. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s just get this over with.” you put your mask on and looked around for the anomaly, swinging your webs from building to building as you flew around. It was then that you spotted it; a big, scaly monster. Its skin resembled that of tar; sticky and black. Accompanied by a menacingly sharp smile, its fangs were almost as big as you were. Your eyes widened with subtle fear as you watched it engulf its surroundings. You signalled Hobie over to you, careful as to not make any noise. He followed, his once-teasing demeanour gone without a trace. He was much more focused on taking down the anomaly now. “Fuckin’ ‘ell. That’s a big one.” he stated, looking at it before attempting to jump at it. but, you grabbed onto his arm to prevent him from doing so. “Are you crazy?” you whispered. “You can’t just spring into battle without a plan!” he groaned impatiently, you quickly shushed him as to not catch the creature’s attention. “Right then, what’s your plan then, missy?” he crouched down next to you, looking down at the enemy from the rooftop. The spikes on his mask shimmered from the sunlight, almost distracting you. Almost.

You snapped back to reality and shared your plan with him. He listened intently to everything you had to say - for debatably the first time ever. He had no snarky comments to share. You almost thanked him for his maturity. Once you finished telling him, it was time to initiate the plan. “Lead the way.” he said as he watched you walk towards the edge of the rooftop. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what was to come. Without any delay, you jumped forward, latching your web onto the nearest building and springing into the creature's field of view. Once it saw you, it instantly began to attack; sending a few of its tentacle-like arms(?) in your direction. You dodged each of its attacks, cutting off one of the arms in the process with a powerful kick. Hobie remained on the rooftop, waiting for your signal. He watched as you fought. Soon finding himself lost in his thoughts. You fought the creature with expertise, swiftly gliding through the air as you dodged each attack flawlessly. He was in awe. He had underestimated how strong you were. But, there’s no way he was admiring you, right? He was just caught off-guard. Definitely. Which meant, it was his turn to show off. He wanted to impress you. And soon enough, his time came. You gave him the signal and he quickly sprung into action. He pulled the guitar from his back, holding it from the neck as if it were a weapon. 

The two of you worked together to take the anomaly down. Although you hated to admit it, you made a great team. Miguel knew that, which is why he put you together in the first place. But, before you managed to successfully beat the monster, you got distracted. You watched as hobie ripped tentacle after tentacle from it and didn’t notice the one that was flying right at you. It lashed you right in the chest, making you grunt in pain as you fell backwards. Hobie must’ve seen this happening because before you made contact with the rough concrete, a familiar web enveloped you, lifting you back up. “Careful, love. Wouldn’t want ya ruinin’ that pretty face o’yours.” You ripped his web off of you, and smiled through your mask. - grateful that he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t need your help!” you yelled at him, jumping back into battle. He laughed, which annoyed you even more. Successfully fuelling the energy you needed to knock the anomaly out. You delivered the final blow; kicking it right in its eye, which was apparently its weak spot. “Whew..” you let out, landing on your feet as you looked at it. Hobie landed next to you, placing his arm on your shoulder. “Nice one,” he said. He sounded sincere. You nodded before going back to work, informing Miguel that you had successfully taken it down. Hobie’s hand stayed on your shoulder, tightly but not enough to hurt. 

Although he was an asshole, he was starting to grow on you.

“How ‘bout we get some dinner - on you, aye? it’s the least you could do considering i saved y’life.”

“Get a grip, Hobie.”

Nevermind.

[gellavonhamster]

u ship smoker and tashigi! 😭i luv them sm!! what is the most thing u like in them? And why u love them!?

Ok let's see, I can rarely put into words coherently why I ship one pairing or another, so I'm gonna freestyle here

I do remember telling @patron-saints when asked the same question that I like ships where both characters look in the same direction as much as they look at each other. I think this might be the thing I like about them the most - that both of them are people with a strong moral compass who try to do the right thing even if it goes against the rules, dedicated to pursuing actual justice not whatever passes for it for most other Marines. (I do wonder where they're gonna end up by the end of One Piece because I don't think that at this point the whole institution of the Marines can really be fixed). It's not an easy path, but they walk it together and they push each other to be better while at it. I love the moment in Punk Hazard where she literally yells at him that they should survive by any means whatsoever, even if it takes swallowing their pride, because they can't just throw away their lives - they have a duty to others:

And she's right! And he listens! And she's basically talking to him the way he talked to her in Alabasta when he urged her to become stronger, there's nothing nice about it but it works because that's how he operates and she knows it well by now. It also shows how more confident she's become and how they've grown used to working with each other - I don't think she would've dared to talk to him like that in Alabasta. And he, in turn, trusts her to carry on with their duty on her own and replace him as the leader if he doesn't come back...

...because she has become stronger and he knows that. (He's also protecting her here, and I think he also knows that appealing to her sense of duty would be more likely to make her not follow him into danger than insinuating she's not strong enough to face that danger with him. Because by now he also knows well how she operates). Not to make the same post again, but there's a similar moment in One Piece: Stampede, and it's, like. If I had a nickel for every time Tashigi wanted to follow Smoker into what might be a suicide mission and he had to force her to stay behind, I'd have two nickels, etc. So, battle couple but less in the sense of physically fighting back to back and more in the sense of fighting the same battle, working in tandem, guiding each other, and having each other's back. Or something.

Speaking of Punk Hazard, I don't think the bodyswap plot was done well with them. I think it was mostly an excuse to show Tashigi with her boobs out. But it did make my brain go brrrr because I started thinking about how he ought to apologize to her for being so careless with her body because poor girl must have caught a cold and probably developed a nicotine addiction, and imagining how that apology would go led me to ao3, and the rest is history (which included me writing my own take on the apology). Though I do think some seeds were sown in my mind way before that arc...

...for example, I feel like this panel in particular did something to my psyche.

Which brings us to the more headcanon-based and less serious part. I imagine their potential romance would grow to be a steady, solid thing based on partnership and trust (which is the kind of relationship I tend to ship because I'm boring like that <3), but it would start out extremely awkward. Because she's a sweet clumsy girl who tries hard to make people take her seriously and he's a gruff, rather rude guy who has a kind heart underneath that. Also, they're probably very much are not supposed to get into such kind of relationship considering that she's his subordinate. Potential for cute AND funny AND slightly angsty scenarios, for dancing around each other without knowing how to make the next step, whether to make the next step. Also for copious amounts of unresolved sexual tension... and what it would result in when it is finally resolved. And I like that for my ships.

(Also, lemme be shallow real quick: I think they're both hot, and even hotter together)

TL;DR I just think they're neat

[christinebloodwrittings]

Something exactly like this

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, police brutality.

Words: 1401

Chapter 2: Have a good one, punk.

Taglist: @lavnderluv @xoxobabe

I got up early, walked to the nearest police station and practically impose that they brought the police officer that hit me without a reason. I managed to get to his superior, explained the situation, placed the evidence and the badge number I memorized. He apologized for the inconvenient, but he refused to make justice on the officer, though I wasn't expecting him to, really, I'm not that naive. I just wanted to be in peace with it.

A good night sleep and two days off work worked like a charm! Due to the bullet wound I couldn't move very swiftly, so I sent my boss photos when it was fresh and bleeding so he would leave me alone for a while, blood makes him sick, talk about an opportunity well taken.

The cut was closed but it still hurt a lot, not enough for me to complain much about it, but if I looked too much at it or stepped too harshly, boy it stung.

"Welcome to Shot's, what can I get you?" I tried to keep myself as calm as I could, but every word that came out of my mouth seemed to catch on fire in the air.

"Y/n dearie, you seem...pissed" my manager approached me attempting a soothing attitude, "Just a bad couple of days, sir, I'll try to swallow it" he shook his head, "With that wound, even I would be in an awful mood, just try to take it as easy as you can, and would you call Jess? She's late again" I sighed, she's an usual at being late, so it was normal for her to send me a message with a lame excuse, all because she fell asleep or her boyfriend is banging her.

"Sorry sorry, so so sorry Y/n" she rushed through the back entrance, collided against the counter, and attempted to hug me but I stepped away, "I heard the manager say you were injured in the raid, I'm sorry honey" That's all she had to say?

"Busy" I whispered and continued pouring coffee for an old lady, when I was finished she corned me at the restocking, "But how are ya'? How did it go with Hobie?" She had the face of a puppy after given it a treat, "You mean after you fucking bailed on me and left me alone? Been better, but what do you mean?" She was stunned, "Wait you guys seriously didn't do shit? That was the whole meaning of the setup!" I was flabbergasted, not precisely anger, but I felt lied to and inclined to punch her in the face.

"The what?" I asked and she immediately regret her words, "Well I thought you could use a boyfriend, and what more cool than someone completely opposite from you?" I wanted to slap the ton of makeup off of her face.

"You mean you wanted me to date an anarchist, crazy enough to go to a raid, who puts his life in danger over the cause every day, fucked up, probably drug user, punk?" In all honesty, he didn't look half as bad, but still not the point.

"Fact number one, everything right but he doesn't do drugs" at least that's a point to his favor, "And two, yes he's a punk, but a kind hearted one, I've known him for a long while now, gotta trust my gut" Now she was going to get the slap for sure.

"Either way, I'm not that desperate, if I wanted to find a guy, I would've already done it" internal slay because it was true, but I was too much of a package to handle.

"You should consider hanging out with Hobie, you two would make a hell of a match" I sighed, she was insisting far too much, "Not intrested, and you're overselling it" thank whatever in existence the manager appeared, "Y/n dear, when you can, I need those boxes to the back, just put them by the trash can" I nodded.

A last glance to Jess's sorry face made me ease my temper, at least she didn't do it with bad intentions, she's just a horrible matchmaker.

I dropped the boxes by accident. When trying to take them all without bending the knee, some ended up further away from my reach, and to top it off my shoe slipped and my bandaged knee hit the concrete. By sheer luck I avoided screaming in pain, my pulse went down to the injured area.

"Need help?" I looked up and it's no other than Spiderpunk, upside down, while holding one of the boxes that went away, "Stalking much?" I smiled, "What is it with you and greetings? Hey there Spider-Punk, how's it hangin'?" He left the box with the others and stretched his hand for me to take.

"Literally hanging, it seems" I sassed him back while standing up, luckly he was so strong. "Now where is it?" He inclined his head towards mine, "What are you talking about?" I scoffed, taking a second to think, and then it hit me. "Well, I saved you from hard work" this man should be a comedian, "Bullshit, but nice try" he snaped his fingers like when a cartoon couldn't do something, "Worth it".

"But you know? It's true, how are you, punk?" I swear I could sense his smile, "Good, how's the leg?" I shrugged, "It would hurt if I tried to kick someone's ass, so you got away, for now" I got closer, just to tease him out, but it backfired, "I would love, to see you try lil' darling".

He was so close I could feel his breath coming out of the mask. I laughed, maybe because he was way more sassy than I anticipated, or embarrassment. The sound of angry customers brought my atention to the door, and I knew it was time to go.

"Have a nice day, punk" I walked a few steps away when he somehow got landed and got enough seconds to grab my hand, "Thought we could chat or somethin', but luck forbid we have a decent encounter right?" He snickered, "Some of us have actual jobs, ya know?" I noticed, he wasn't letting go, but me neither.

"Then" he got closer, his chest inches from me "Some other time?" His fingers got a better grip of my hand, not quite tight, but firm.

"I leave at eight, and curfew starts at ten, you work it around those hours" at ten precisely, the police start the patroll, and they shoot or grab whatever that moves that isn't uniformed.

"Fuck curfew, pigs can suck my arse" I honesty believed him, "Sure, but I won't risk a beating and getting myself violated in the slammer, not all of us have super powers to get away" and all that trouble for his deviant ass? Maybe...

"Yeah, so can I stop at yours?" Why his grip got tighter? And why he's so warm?! Help. I'll be the envy of the groupies that love this guy, like Jess.

But will it be too much of a risk?

"Don't know if I should let an anarchist, the number one enemy of police and the government, inside my house" also wouldn't like to find out what would they do to me if they catch me with such a celebrity.

"I'll bring some crisps then" oh well, what the hell then.

"I'll leave my window open" where did that even come form, that came out way more flirty than intended! Fuck!

I tried to get away but he still had my hand, "You still owe me a kiss" is he serious?

"I don't think I was in certain death just now"

"Does it have to?" He asks. I mean does it have to be certain death? Hope not.

"You act as if you needed it" he got closer, was that even posible? "Jus' like to settle that debt" he placed his hand on a safe area of my waist, putting no pressure into it.

I hunmed and let go of his hand, "Then I'll keep owing you" reaching for the door I heard him ask, "Why's that?" I smiled, already on the other side of the door.

"So you keep it as an excuse" And what an exit, I was actually so proud of myself, but my embarrassment got over me and my face started to heat up.

Damn that masked man!

[heliosthegriffin]

Shadow Knight and Magic Girls XVI

Ao3 Link

Chapter Sixteen

----

Jaune sat down at his table, his grandfather sitting parallel to him, still cleaning the gun. "So, who taught ya how to clean a gun?"

"Self-taught," Jaune answered honestly. "Watched some scroll-videos."

"Should have watch them again."

"It's a backup, I don't use it regularly," Or at all, he had just snatched if off some-guy who had tried to stick him up awhile back, then just kinda of forgot about it, it was just a .22 pistol, it just wasn't going to go through Shadow-monster (Or Grimm, he supposed) bone plating, or not very far.

Jeremiah Arc stared at his grandson with icy sharp eyes. "I could tell," His grandpa shrugged. "Though, considering what you're up against, It doesn't surprise me."

Jaune thought about denying it for a second, but considering how his grandfather had already raided one of his caches, and had plenty of time to investigate his workshop, and his white-board with his notes on Grimm. Yeah, that'd be just stupid.

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

"Well, my only grandson comes in next best thing ta dawn, I hear rumors of a maniac running around saving people from 'wild animals' and criminals, and I happen upon a workshop full of dangerous gadgets and shit, and said grandson looks like he's had the shit beat out of him. What do you think I want to talk about?"

"Maybe, 'hey, Jaune, I know it's been over a year since we last talked, how's school going?' or perhaps, 'Jaune, what do you think about doing after you graduate? It's only a year off.' Something like that."

"Yeah, It'd be great to talk about that, if you weren't running around with a death wish."

"And how is that any of your business? I don't need your permission."

"You're my grandson, you're life is my business until one of us dies," He stared Jaune in the eyes, putting the gun in the middle of the table. " And, it won't be you."

They took each other's measure for a moment, neither willing to break eye contact first. In that moment of eye contact, they both say each's other unbending will, and the warrior spirit within.

Jaune saw that his grandfather was old, but he was weathered into shape, forged by experienced, and endured the whole of the world having thrown itself at him, yet he still stood strong. He had fought from one end of Sanus to the other during the Great War, and was still active now in his nineties, doing work men a quarter of his age would be terrified of.

Jeremiah saw in his grandson a young man, but he was carved by circumstances, ambushed by a situation beyond his understanding, but remained unbowed to destinies whims. Nor, was he anywhere close to being done. His will burned any bright, and his spirit burned hotter than anyone he met.

The younger Arc broke eye contact first. Having a firm understanding that his grandpa while was old, he was old in the same way a oak was old.

He may have lost much with age, but skill and experience was not one of them, and more than likely he was the more dangerous of the two in the room despite the massive age difference.

"Hehehe," Then his grandfather started laughing. "Good, good. The Arc spirit burns brightly within you." He breathed out. "So, why not start from the beginning?"

"What?" Jaune looked puzzeled. "You're not going to stop me?"

"Fook no, I've seen you're measure. Had I found you lacking, I'd have knocked you're punk-ass out and dragged you home, but you're a warrior, and I'll respect that." He gave a grandfatherly warm smile. "Now, why do you tell grandpa here a story."

Jaune relaxed. Then looked at the time. "I'd like to, but I have school today, and I need sleep."

His grandpa looked at him confused. "You do you're nightly business, and still go to school?" He shook his head, then typed a message into his scroll.

"What are you doing?"

"Tellin' my boy, something."

"Dad? What are you telling dad?"

"To call the school an tell'em you're having a family emergency. You're with me today, now." He smiled deviously. "Get to spinning that yarn!"

----

Deep in the mountains of Vale, in a valley secluded from the rest of the Kingdom, at the foot of a mountain there was a overhanging cliff three-hundred feet up, where icy runoff sped off the cliff into a pool of crystal clear-water.

At the top of this cliff, was a magnificent mustache attached to a glorious specimen of a man, along with his four proteges. "Boys, you've come far in the time I've known you." He turned around, his shadow falling over them as the sun-rose. "But, now is the time to put your mettle to the test!"

"Yes, teacher!" They stomped in unison, slightly shaking the cliff, voices echoing across the valley.

Peter Port proudly nods at them. "Follow me, boys!" Then charged off the cliff, taking the three-hundred foot dive with no hesitation.

His students looked in awe for a moment, then Cardin boldly stepped forth. "I shall follow!" Then took a swan dive off the cliff, as Sky, Dove, and Russel followed suit.

Up above them, a crow watched puzzled for several minutes, before then flying off, after they all resurfaced at the bottom, everyone but Port shivering and battered.

----

"So, what have you done with the Lien from the Xiong?"

"After everything I told you, you're curious about the money?"

"Well yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

"I stored it away, I wasn't sure what to do with it. It doesn't really feel right to use it, considering it's origins."

"But, you're fine with using the equipment they give you, and other such benefits?"

"Point taken."

Jeremiah shook his head. "See boy, they're criminals that for sure, but it's really not going to help anybody by sittin on it. Besides, if you want to get anywhere in life, you got to invest wisely, and if you want to get out from under the Xiong's thumb, doubly so." He paused. "Besides, not like the Kingdom's are much cleaner, and I raised your daddy on money from the Kingdoms."

"Ok, but what should I invest in?" Jaune didn't exactly have any ideas where to start.

"Hmm, good question, and I'm no money guru. Hmm, well you're daddy is pretty well off, you're sisters are all doing well. Vale's a big place, though. You could try reinvesting into the local economy to stimulate it, and it would be great PR for you, and by extension, the Xiong if you were to start investing in local businesses. Besides, even if you lose all you're money, that's just one month's allowances, and you gain some experience on what works and what doesn't. Kinda of like learning to fight, just in a different way."

"Huh, that doesn't sound too bad, I mean, not like keeping it stored away is helping anybody, if do use it, I might as well use it to help people."

"That ah boy!" His grandfather smiled, then got up. "Now come on, we got places to be."

Jaune yawned, but got up. "Ok, uh, where?"

"To the Arc Crypts."

-----

Ciel looked at the clock, he wasn't here yet. How curious. He usually arrived just on time for they're lessons. Was this an attempt to subvert her? So, that they were meeting on his terms, instead of hers? Was this his attempt at a power-play, to exert his desires over her?

How devious. Truly, his was a lecherous mind that could not be anticipated. But, she would not bow to his whims, Ciel was not that easily bowed, despite how casually he might overpower her.

She had seen the reserved strength he moved with, how his muscles bunched and stretched, nearly humming with a unseen intensity that was seconds away from being unleashed upon a unwitting fool.

Ciel was no fool, though. Even if, she knew that with one hand he could pin her to a desk, looming over her with scalding eyes, while his other hand roamed over her, knee falling between her legs as he pinned her down, hot breath on her face-

"Ciel." She saw Pyrrha in the doorway, truly a model student. "I thought I was the one to tutor Jaune today, why are you here?"

"Oh. Is that so?" The poor girl, she hadn't the faintest idea the danger she barely kept from taking them. "I was not informed."

Pyrrha smiled. "That's not problem," The model student took a seat next to her, Pyrrha wasn't expecting anyone else this morning. Though, Ciel was fine company, and everyone knew that she was practically divorced from the ideas of romance and passion, so she was a perfect tutor for Jaune when Pyrrha herself wasn't able, Weiss was a close second, with her denial of her feelings, she'd never make any moves on her chosen rival.

Though, rival felt the wrong word to use against Jaune, Pyrrha thought. He was just a man, not like the Shadow Knight, who was clearly operating on a higher level than a man. But, he may just be a man, he was strong, and tall and broad-shoulder, even if Pyrrha could swat him down with her magic, he...

She could see him slapping a hand against the wall behind her, the hall echoing with the sound of his rough, strong hand against concrete. His eyes piercing into hers, blue eyes like the deepest, cleanest pools of water, no expectations, only pure want.

He wanted her, carnally, physically, skillfully, romantically, platonically. Jaune was a typhoon of desires, and Pyrrha knew she was the only one who could satisfy them all. His broad, stone-dense chest only inches away from her and she could feel the heat and power off his body, like it was crushing her underneath. His leg moving between her own, keeping her from escaping.

The blonde leaned forward his breath on her neck-

"Pyrrha, Ciel." Weiss greeted them. "What are you doing here?"

The two tutors looked at her in puzzlement. "Waiting for Jaune?"

"Waiting on Arc."

The Schnee looked at them confused. "Did you two not check your scrolls? Ms. Goodwitch sent us messages, He's having a family emergency, he's not going to be coming in today."

"Oh." Ciel said flatly.

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Well, I guess I'll go get ready for class, then."

Ciel nodded. "I shall do the same."

Leaving Weiss alone in the room.

In her mind, a blonde pushed a rough, calloused hand against her blouse and the other lifting up her chin -

Then snapped out of the day-dream, she did a scan with her mystical senses, but didn't find anything. She made a mental note to ward the room later, or at least check if they're was any enchantment in there.

Outside, a pair of mismatched eyes watched curiously, she hadn't done anything, yet. So why were they all spacing out?

----

It was noon now, Jaune had fallen asleep between getting in his grandpa's beat-up truck, and getting here. Wherever here is. He looked from side to side, but all he saw was a cave in a cliff-side and miles of dense lively forest.

"Where are the Crypts?" Every member of the Arc family knew about the family crypts, but it wasn't like Jaune himself had actually been there, the dead had already called dibs on it.

Granpa Jeremiah was holding a wooden torch, a sword on his hip that Jaune recognized as Crocea Mors, the family blade. He thrust the torch into Jaune's hands. "Here take it."

Holding the burning fire a safe distance away, Jaune nodded. "Ok, but-"

"You're going into that dark tunnel down there, don't worry, this is something every Arc Warrior has to do."

"My dad never-"

"I said every Arc Warrior."

"Ok, but-"

"I didn't fookin stutter, go into the cave!"

"Alright! I'm going," Jaune took a step back, surprised by the energy from the oldest Arc. Walking to the entrance. "What am I going to do down there?"

"Tested. Probably beaten to within a inch of yer life. Have a laugh with my pappy if he's still down there."

Jaune turned to look at Jeremiah. "What?"

"What?" The old man limped forward at surprising speed. "Not afraid of the dark are ya?"

"No, it's just. You're ancient, Great-Grandpa Arc is-"

"I know! He's long dead, now go and talk to him, before I push ya down to meet him!"

"Alright!" And, Jaune headed down into the caverns, a oppressive darkness swallowing him up and the light of the torch as well, soon the sound of his footsteps was gone, and it was like he had been eaten whole by a great and terrible beast.

Jeremiah pulled out a pipe and went to puffing smoke. He put his blade to the ground, and leaned on it like a walking stick, his leg having started to ache.

"AAAAHHHH!!" A blood-curdling scream echoed out of the cave. Jeremiah nodded. Looks like he met their family, now to see if their family let him leave.

----

[em1e]

the kids from yesterday

' you only live forever in the lights you make. '

⠀ |⠀ baji + chifuyu ⠀ |⠀ 2. k ⠀ |⠀ cw. little bit of angst yk how it goes, mentions of BLOOD, GUNS, some VIOLENCE. ⠀ |⠀ danger days m.list

you couldn’t recall the exact date when you started running with baji and chifuyu, but they made themselves comfortable with you fairly quickly. 

they’d tell you about the group they used to have; toman, a name they’d whisper in the abandoned streets lest they risk a draculoid appearing from the woodworks with the intent to maim. 

it was a name feared among other killjoys. a notorious group filled with some of the best, as they tell you. 

although they got separated a while back, their comm systems destroyed in a fight. with no other way to contact them, the duo were left traveling on foot from city to city with the hope of running into someone they know. at least they had each other they’d remind themselves when rations got too low or raygun shots were hitting a little too close to the walls they’d been hiding behind. 

they found you instead – in the middle of hotwiring a car, tinkering with the wires with a frown when the copper doesn’t spark how you need it to. 

they didn’t mean to startle you enough for you to draw a gun on them, really! 

“woaah, let’s take it easy.” chifuyu holds his hands up defensively while baji pulls out his own gun with practiced ease; the fact of him having no bullets left was something you didn’t need to know about. 

your eyes narrow at the barrel pointed your way, finger twitching against your trigger, “who’re you guys.” 

“we don’t want any trouble.” chifuyu says simultaneously as baji’s, “we could ask you the same.” 

the faux blond’s eyebrow twitches at his friend who clearly can’t assess the situation properly, elbowing him in the ribs and nodding his head towards you as if his long-haired partner could somehow understand him. 

baji mouths a ‘what?’, his own brows furrowing while lowering his gun. 

“they’re clearly trying to get outta here like we are.” chifuyu argues quietly, “maybe we could strike a deal or somethin’.” 

despite attempting to whisper the suggestion, you can hear perfectly fine, and his offer leaves you scoffing with a roll of your eyes, “as if. there’s no tellin’ what kinda trouble two punks like you get into on the daily.” 

both men sputter at the accusation, baji’s gun now fully aiming at the ground. still, you continue, “besides, i don’t know either of you. i don’t trust you as far as i can throw you.” 

“we just wanna get away from the city,” chifuyu promises, hands slowly coming down as he takes in the still broken down car behind you, “we’ll be outta your hair as soon as we are.” 

your finger twitches again against the trigger, lip pulled between your teeth as you consider the thought before you nod to the gun still in baji’s hand, “gimme that.” 

baji scoffs, readjusting his aim at you as if you’d just demanded the world of him and not his busted raygun with no ammo, “i don’t think so.” 

“baji,” chifuyu chastises, “come on man. there’s gotta be some give from our end.” 

“yeah, baji.” you smile with a tilt of your head, offering your open palm for him to place the weapon. 

baji finds he doesn’t care very much for your tone, and that he cares even less for the look chifuyu is giving him. against his better judgment, he places the gun in the center of your hand and you examine it with squinted eyes, clicking your tongue before tossing it into the backseat of the car behind you. 

“no bullets? s’a shame.” 

baji makes a noise of disagreement at his only form of protection being tossed so carelessly to the side – bullets or not – but you're waving your own gun in front of him before he can take a step forward, “ah ah. what about you, pretty boy? any weapons?” 

chifuyu shakes his head, gesturing to himself slowly, “nope, lost mine against the last draculoid’s we saw. you can come pat me down if ya don’t believe me.” 

you eye him for a minute before shaking your head, holstering your gun, “no, i believe you. do either of you know how to jumpstart a car?” 

chifuyu’s hands drop at the moment of peace between the three of you, giving baji an incredulous look when your back is turned with the aforementioned male sending him one of confusion. 

“i’ve been trying,” you settle back down on the ground, fiddling with the fried wires as you were before they’d made their presence known, “but i can’t seem to get these to work. s’never happened to me before.” 

“we’re not really the mechanics of our group,” chifuyu rubs the back of his neck, crouching beside you, “got separated a  few weeks ago ‘nd we’re trying to get back to them.” 

you click your tongue at the admission, sighing when the metal sparks again but doesn’t start the car, “i’ve been trying for the past hour. i think the whole system is just messed up.” 

baji peeks into the garage the car is just outside of, taking in how it seems you’ve made yourself home in the space for a period of time from the bags on the floor, “you been staying here?” 

“since last night,” you stand, dusting your pants, “figured since this place is on the outskirts of the city there’d be less draculoids.” 

chifuyu’s knees crack as he stands with you, nodding his head to baji, “c’mere, you helped draken a lot with the other cars, ‘m sure you can get this to work.” 

baji pauses his pawing through your items with a huff, ignoring the pointed stare you send his way when he comes out of the garage with one of the few portions of jerky you have left hanging out of his mouth, walking around the car to settle where you were previously sat. 

“are you sure you even got the right wires?” 

you flick his temple with a confidence that would make you assume you’d known him for years, not mere minutes, with a frown, “of course. this isn’t my first rodeo.” 

he rubs the side of his head with a glare, “then if you’re so confident, maybe the car is just busted-” 

“just try.” chifuyu waves away the tension of arguing between the two of you, taking the remaining jerky from baji’s hands and popping it into his mouth. 

baji grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, though you’re almost positive it has something to do with you if the way he says it is anything to go by, but begins to fiddle with the wires just as you had been. 

and maybe it’s the remaining grease of the jerky from his fingers, or maybe it’s just god mocking you, but by some miracle, the fucking car starts. 

there’s a moment's pause as each of you takes in the idle of the engine before chifuyu is shaking baji by the shoulders, while you just stand shocked that he managed to do something you were attempting for an admirable amount of time. 

it takes the three of you being on the road for three hours before you officially introduce yourself to them; a rogue killjoy left to their own devices after your own group decided to leave in the middle of the night and you’ve kept to yourself ever since. 

the company isn’t unwelcome, despite baji eating the majority of your rations before you guys made your first stop to refuel. 

and still, weeks since you’d met them, you’d remained at their side – the argument of being better in numbers, or whatever the saying is. 

the days were passing without fault, all things considered; you’d managed to score a nice load of provisions, fresh water, and bullets from an abandoned outpost, had a good amount of gas to keep you going at least until the next station you know about and . . it was just going so, so well. 

until the draculoid’s caught up with you. 

it was supposed to be easy, sneaking into the camp. some people you’d run into let you know there was equipment there; stuff they could hack for you (at the right price), and with the confirmation that they’d be able to create a new comm system for baji and chifuyu to contact their group, the three of you were sold. 

except there was one teenie, tiny, itty bitty problem . . the place was crawling with draculoid’s. 

somehow, to your own amazement, you and baji had managed to grab the equipment you needed and then some without being spotted. it was a miracle in itself to climb into the car that chifuyu was waiting in. 

until the alarms started blaring. 

baji’s yelling at chifuyu to drive in time with bullets whizzing past the car, and the sound of the tires peeling on the asphalt is all you can process while being thrown back into the leather of the back seat. 

“shit.” chifuyu curses, foot pressing on the gas. he makes a sharp turn down one of the empty roads, sending you flying into the door and baji into your side from the suddeness of it and you groan at the impact. 

“be careful, chifuyu.” baji snaps, pushing himself from you and helping you sit up, only to duck quickly when a bullet hits the back windshield and splinters the glass. 

“sorry for trying to keep us alive,” he argues back, taking another turn and throwing you into baji’s lap. 

“chifuyu!” you can’t help but yell, sitting up quickly to set the equipment you’d grabbed into the front seat to make sure it wouldn’t get crushed. 

baji rolls down the window, hanging part of his upper body out of it with his raygun, closing one eye with his tongue poking out between his lips and fires three shots, pew pew pew, aimed at one draculoid on a bike that was a little close for comfort. 

more shots are fired at your car and baji grunts just as chifuyu takes another turn, kicking up dust and leaving a cloud in its wake. you grab the hem of baji’s shirt so he isn’t slung out the window from the abruptness, pulling him back into the safety confines of the car with a huff. 

baji lets out another groan as he falls into your lap in the backseat, with you peering through the webbed glass of the windshield to confirm no draculoid’s were following you this far out into the desert. 

“you’re never driving again,” you settle, slumping in the seat, “never, ever-” 

“we made it out, didn’t we?” chifuyu insists, “we’ll be lucky if that car makes it back to those guys in one piece.” 

his complaints are lost on you when baji groans again, hand once pressing to his stomach tangling with your own. you grimace at the feeling of something wet making contact, retracting your hand to see . . . oh . . oh fuck. 

“ . . and you know, you should take a lesson or two from me anyways since my skills are outmatched to those dweebs-” 

“‘fuyu?”

“-since they seemed to only land a hit on the windshield, which is the biggest target to aim for, might i add-” 

“chifuyu!” 

“what?” 

he stops his bickering only from the way your voice shakes, glancing into the cracked rear view mirror with furrowed brows. you hold up your fingers, now stained with red that isn’t yours,

and slams on the breaks at the site, whipping around to fully assess the situation without the long split of the mirror distracting him. baji’s almost thrown out of your lap from the break, rolling forward and only caught by your other hand still pressed firmly to his wound. 

“when? how?” chifuyu starts, only for baji to push away his curious hands wanting more information. 

“when i was hanging out the window, and drive,” baji manages out, readjusting himself onto you, “s’not enough to kill me and we don’t know if there’s any of ‘em following us.” 

chifuyu’s eyes meet yours for a brief second, a conversation held in so much as a glance, before he nods and turns back to face the front. 

i’ll take care of him. 

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 796: Rolling Stones In Paris 1970

I grew up hating the Rolling Stones.

I was born in 1977---the year Some Girls (often considered their last great album) was released. I was introduced to the Stones the same way as many children in the '80s were first exposed to them: via MTV. There was the zero-budget production and awkward, uninspired dance moves of "Start Me Up" on Classic MTV or... even worse... the grinning old guys in bright pastels lip-syncing to their flat new single "Mixed Emotions." They were an arena rock band from the previous generation, and they sounded thin and stale compared to all the hair metal bands that were hot at the time.

But things changed during a pivotal summer after my first year of college when I worked a job painting campus housing. Me and the other 3 or 4 students on the paint crew spent the summer listening to the local classic rock station, and I slowly realized that the Stones actually had some decent songs back in the day. Sure, I still didn't get why "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" was considered such a trailblazing tune, but I could at least get behind "Jumping' Jack Flash" and "Sympathy For the Devil." I still didn't give two shits about 99% of their catalog, but I could at least admit to liking a few of their songs.

Every year, my appreciation for the Stones expanded a little more. On an early These Arms Are Snakes tour, we talked with a few guys that played with blues legend R. L. Burnside who derided Zeppelin for stealing from African-American musicians while applauding the Stones for helping insure those same musicians got the recognition and compensation they deserved. We also did an early Against Me! tour where I bonded with Andrew and Laura over our shared love of roots rock, and they were flabbergasted when I admitted that I had never dived into Exile on Main St. So I picked up a cheap used CD of Exile and began my journey to the heart of the Stones' world.

Even the Stones songs I'd heard a million times began to sound different once I understood that they were essentially these British ruffians who were celebrating and elevating taboo music. As a child raised on '80s Stones, I thought they sounded like every bad rock cliche rolled into one mediocre bar band. When I began to hear those old tracks from the '60s with the context of the society's racism and Puritanical rules in mind, the Stones began to sound far more dangerous and radical than most of the punk stuff I loved.

Then I started to learn more context about the Stones: how they were marketed as the anti-Beatles. How they refused to smile in press photos. How they were addicts and tax exiles. There was a lot of darkness that surrounded the Stones. A lot of things about the band were problematic and it's pretty easy to frame them as villains, but they were also pioneers who navigated the turbulence of the '60s and the hedonism of the '70s without a road map. Even the gross commercialization they underwent in the '80s seems less offensive when you consider that there wasn't really another band they could look at and say "we definitely don't wanna sell out like those guys."

And at the end of the day, they were a live band. They may have been an arena band by the time I was aware of them, but they had been prone to playing small clubs between bigger shows even up through the '70s. They made music that was meant to be loose and malleable and alive. They adhered to the same principle as a lot of the punk and hardcore bands I listened to: the albums were meant to sell you on their live show, not the other way around.

In Paris '70 is one of many, many live Stones bootlegs out there and despite its excellent track list, its audio quality leaves a lot to be desired. But the live energy still translates and serves as reminder of the band's strongest attribute---the ability to go out on stage and tear it up. It's by no means a good entry point for folks out there who haven't fallen in love with the Stones yet, but it felt like a good one to introduce as an overview of my long and gradual appreciation for the band before I start really nerding out over individual studio albums here in the next few days.

Apologies to the Stones haters out there; you're about to be inundated.

[moorishflower]

WIP word search game!

Okay! I was tagged by @dsudis!

My words are: blue, deep, walk, sky, down, heal

blue: (from the unnamed Hallmark-Adjacent sequel)

If Morpheus is honest with himself – and he has been attempting, within the last three months, to be more honest with himself – the moment that he considered Robert Gadling a viable husband was the very instant he had seen him bathed in the lights of Trafalgar Square, in a dozen different shades of blue and white and soft golden from the surrounding buildings and with his hair pulled back into a bun, as though he had done so out of habit just before he had left his flat.

deep: (from an unnamed vampire!Dream WIP that's been languishing until I get into vampires again)

His stranger turns to look at him, and it pulls his face into deep shadow. Hob can only see the white curve of his throat, a tempting peek of collarbone. His face is obscured in darkness, with only those two bright points of witchlight to mark where his gaze falls. “I have had many names,” he says. Each word is slow and purposeful, as if it is being pulled from a sleeptalker. “Morpheus. Oneiros. Draculea. More, still. I was called the shaper of forms, once. Voivode, and Lord, and King. My true name is older.”

heal: (from an Edgin/Xenk canon divergence AU set 4 years prior to the movie)

"I can heal myself," the paladin says placidly, and then makes absolutely no effort to do so while Ed pours a thin stream of icy water over the slash on his cheek. It's not as bad once all the blood's cleared away -- he can't see clear through to teeth at least -- and that only leaves him with addressing the actual problem, which is the shoulder injury. Ed stares at the guy's pauldrons, wondering where in the Nine Hells he even starts.

walk: (from a yet-unposted bit of Little Histories)

"I am ambivalent about the nature of food served from a truck," Dream says. He still feels somewhat slow and muddled, but the walk is pleasant. Humans need movement, Hob has informed him. It is part of the development of their infants, and most enjoy it well after their childhood, as well. There is something pleasant about utilising his muscles; in the moment, he wonders why it had been so hard to rouse himself yesterday.

sky: (from the same Edgin/Xenk fic)

The opportunity comes just as the sun is beginning to get dangerously low in the sky and the nightlife of Luskan -- skullduggery, alleyway knifing, pickpocketing and the like -- is kicking into high gear, when a man on a horse as white as the driven snow turns away from the Southern Gate and keeps right on riding towards Mirabar.

down: (unnamed Johanna/Lucifer fic)

The demon darts forward, too bloody fast for a woman who's spent most of the evening getting fantastically drunk after ousting a fucking poltergeist from an attic, and knocks the crucifix from her hands. Jo responds by yanking out the vial of holy water she keeps in her bra and dumping it directly down the demon's cleavage. She suspects she only manages this because the demon was too distracted by trying to figure out why she was fumbling in her bra to begin with, but that's to her benefit, so she counts it as a win.

And I will taaaaag... @avelera (show me the secret drafts of Joke's On You!!!), @landwriter, @softest-punk, @beatnikfreakiswriting and anyone else who'd like to play <3

Your words are: invite, bleed, lonely, glance, small, curve

[guhamun]

@caemthe said (inbox):

[ cú ] It took him a while to realize, but... Yuyu and Rami made a good pair, didn't they? As different as the two men are, they get along just fine, which made him wonder... "So are you two dating?" The punk asked one day at random. Before he could even get a proper answer, he turned to Ramil and said: "Thank you for taking care of Jianyu. I know he may appear a little prickly at first, but he's actually very sweet and kind. I used to worry all the time for him when I was a kid since he was more of a loner, but now I'm relieved that he found someone special." How touching...

JIANYU HAD BEEN IN the middle of a drink when Cu, out of nowhere, blurted that out. He choked, spiting the liquid back into his glass and coughing. Ramil took that randomness far better than himself, the other just as taken aback, yet far quicker to snap out of his surprise than his partner. Bursting into a loud fit of laughter that was so easily drowned out by the music of Afterlife, he grinned widely, eyes twinkling with both amusement and mischief. ❝No, no, we’re not dating. I asked this guy out once and he nearly cut my head clean off my shoulders!❞ Laughing a little more, he could practically feel Jianyu’s eyes burning into his skin in all its searing glory. ❝Kidding, kidding!❞ Holding up both hands, in a peace gesture, he watched Jianyu glower and grumble and pushing his glass forward to order another drink. When the ‘danger’ had passed, only then did he go back to his conversation with Cu. ❝Well, not so much about the near head chopping off thing. There’s a story behind that, but that’s for another day. Maybe when I’m a little less sober so I can really make the story ten times more exciting.❞

     Leaning against the counter, he hummed a little at Cu’s next words, a nod of agreement offered. ❝Oh, yes, I know that very well. Jianyu here intimidated the hell out of me.❞ Glancing over at the other, he bumped his shoulder against the merc, though Jianyu gave no indication of care aside from continuing with his new drink. ❝This guy gave off those killer vibes. He wasn’t someone acting tough. I could tell from the beginning that this man, if he wanted, could really kill me. Buuut…❞ pausing, he waved at the waitress, grinning once again and asking her sweetly for a refill before she scoffed and smiled, turning to prepare the mix he had ordered previously. ❝Talking to him, I learned I had a higher chance of a Maelstrom shooting at me for breathing weird in their direction than him wanting to cut me to pieces.❞

     ❝I’ll kill you right now, you shit.❞

     ❝And get banned from this lovely establishment? At least try to give a better threat in front of our young friend here.❞ Drink placed down in front of him once again, Rami gave his thanks with a wink to the waitress before resuming his conversation with a certain very…shamelessly curious punk. ❝Anyway, you gotta have someone you can trust in this shithole city of ours, right? Live as long as guys like us in this biz, you reach a point where you can pretty much tell who’s going to potentially try and backstab you, and who’s ride or die. Most of the time, at least.❞ An emphasis on ‘most’, considering.

[inquisitor-apologist]

Star wars: 3, 5, 7, 10, 12 ♥️

3. which character are you actually most like?

Probably Sabine Wren—I’m a punk teenager who loves to die my hair, and I have a lot of combat experience. (7 years of karate) I love painting, and I’m trying to be more active in fighting against the empire I live in (usa). Perhaps one day I will be able to blow up fascists with homemade bombs…

5. what planet would you most like to visit? 

Considering I literally named myself after it, I kind of have to go with Korriban, don’t I? Cool, ancient planet full of giant statues, evil holocrons, and malevolent ghosts, what’s not to love? Honestly tlt it’d be worth it just to see the giant statues.

7. who do you hope you never meet?

Grogu. Little dude is exactly football-sized and I don’t think I could resist the urge to drop-kick him. I would feel terrible about it afterwards, but I don’t think I would be strong enough to stop myself.

10. do you think the jedi were right or wrong?

This one’s pretty obvious if you look at my blog, and, well, imo, if you look at the movies. The Jedi are, as presented by Lucas, unequivocally the good guys. The core dichotomy of Star Wars is the Dark side and the Light, (or, in the OT, the Dark side and the Force) compassion versus selfishness, and the Jedi were the compassionate guys, the ones who used the force to better themselves and help others. Their philosophy on non attachment is heavily based on Buddhism—George Lucas actually converted to Buddhism and described himself as a Methodist-Buddhist—so I think it’s fair to say that it was intended to be a positive, healthy way to live. (Please, Star Wars fandom, I am begging you to look up what attachment means in Star Wars, it’s different than what attachment means to USAmericans) Also, the ‘no romantic relationships’ thing makes a lot of sense when you realize the Jedi are monks first and foremost, and monks that have super dangerous government jobs. I know it’s annoying for shipping, but it does make sense with the worldbuilding.

The tragedy of the prequels was that Anakin, in his selfishness and greed, betrayed the Jedi and allowed the rise of the Empire. That doesn’t work if the Jedi are the bad guys, then it’s a completely different story. So, yeah, the Jedi were absolutely right.

12. do you care who rey’s parents are?

Ok, so since this ask game was posted when the sequels were still coming out and my opinion has changed a lot since 2019, I’ll answer this two different ways: how I felt then, and how I feel now.

When the sequels were coming out: No. I was pretty young back then, and not fully into Star Wars yet, and I basically took what the movies said at face value. Oh, they abandoned her? That’s sad, guess we won’t see them. Oh, they were junk traders that sold her? That sucks, I bet Rey feels really bad about that. Oh, she’s a Palpatine? That’s cool, I wasn’t expecting that. I watched a lot of those theory videos talking about how she could totally be a Skywalker or a Kenobi or a Solo, but I never really had a strong opinion on it. My reaction to her being Palpatine’s granddaughter was mostly ‘huh, how would that work? I don’t think he had a wife?’ I get now that it was a big question that everyone wanted the answer to, but I was too young to care.

Now: Yeah, actually, and I really like the idea of her being a Palpatine. I think it was a really good idea, and had they actually planned the story around it, it would’ve worked really well. Like, if she was established as a Palpatine in tfa, it would’ve added a lot to her character. Why is she so desperate to stay on Jakku? Because she’s hiding from the First Order. It would have also explained Snoke and Kylo Ren’s interest in her—as Palpatine’s heir, they would’ve really wanted to get her on their side. I really like the idea of her being a Palpatine, but the execution was so awful, just like most of the sequels.

Thanks for the ask! These were really fun to do

[l3ss0ns1ndr0wn1ng]

Low Quality Sketch Dump (and Rambling)

Here are a few sketches from my sketchbook. I've had it since July 2023 and I still haven't filled it up. I've filled it up quite a bit, but I'm still not finished because school's been taking up a lot of my time recently.

Sorry for the low quality photos. I'm not at home during the day, when it's bright out, so I can't take good photos of my art with lighting from a window, so these photos I took at 10pm a few days ago in the yellow lighting of my bedroom will have to do. I edited them slightly, though...

Here's a sketchbook spread I did. I drew myself because it was my birthday. I also followed a tutorial on how to draw clothing folds by Winged Canvas on YouTube and and applied what I learned by drawing clothing from references I found on Pinterest.

The weird drawings taped in are things my sister drew and gave to me. One of them is a caricature of me and the others are two members of my favourite band, My Chemical Romance.

This one is a doodle I did of myself in the summer of 2024 because I was down bad for a guy who I'm not sure even knew I existed and kept on listening to Sugar, We're Goin' Down by Fall Out Boy about it.

I drew this one to convince myself to not like the aforementioned guy who didn't know I existed. I could see him from where I was sitting during my English exam, which required students to read a few short stories, poems, and other things and answer a few essay questions about them. In the time it took me to get through every single one of them, he must've finished reading half of them.

If you don't know, the Stormlight Archive is a fantasy book series. The society it takes place in considers reading feminine, so men don't learn how to read. I like those books and the characters in them way more than I like that guy.

My OC, Ren is also there. He can't read because the education system in the world he lives in is terrible.

Here are two pieces of fanart. The first one is Party Poison, the character Gerard Way (the singer of MCR) embodied during the Danger Days era. The second one is "Pork" (Punk York) from Drawtectives, but I struggled to draw his hair so bad. I was very excited when I saw his new look. It's a shame the pockets thing isn't canon, though lol.

These are doodles of my OCs.

The first one is of Ren and Fynn (I changed the spelling of the name and now I have to edit my personal tags 😍). They're singing Caraphernelia by Pierce the Veil because I was obsessed with that song when I drew that and it reminded me of both of those characters. It's supposed to be like that Reeses Puffs x CPR meme from a few years ago.

The second one is my OC, Riona. She's a kid and she's really been through it. I felt really bad because she's so innocent, so I figured I'd give her a break from the angst I put her and all my other characters through. She's reading a book because reading is her favourite thing to do.

The last one is Ren and Val. It was based of a Tweet I saw that I found funny. Val loves to insult Ren. She was his childhood bully and kind of still bullies him. They learn to get along eventually, but not without some anguish.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Info dumping pt 6

Hidden Worlds au thoughts, this one is just sad though

So, Ardal, Fenrir’s second in command, idk how much you remember about him but just searching Ardal on your profile will show you everything about him so far, anyways

Personally, I find Ardal tragic, his past is marred by his own mother and despite being half Japanese, whenever he’s in Japan it’s never for pleasant reasons.

He was a punk, a bit chaotic but a heart of gold, but he no longer considers himself punk. Whenever he looks in a mirror he doesn’t see himself anymore, he sees a sellout who hurts people, not the guy who’d protest loudly for a better tomorrow, not the guy who wanted to be a teacher.

But can he even truly be considered a sellout when he had no real choice?

Kenichi broke into his home and gave him two options, join him, or die, of which afterwards he would then release the proof his family are faoladh/conroicht, which could put them in major danger, and even threatened his local punk community.

His aunt is a punk too, she’s the reason he got introduced to the community. He was essentially raised by his grandparents and the local punk community, so going against everything he was taught, his ideologies, the very things ingrained into him was and is agonizing.

When Ardal looks into a mirror he doesn’t see himself, he sees a sellout. He hates what he’s become, the actions he does.

And well, maybe Ardal is a sellout, but he didn’t have any real choice now did he?

He just wanted to protect his family.

-🔅 anon

Poor guy 🥺 he deserves so much.

[minyboy]

Showdown (Halloween Monster “Roleplay” 3) Part 25

I want this to end. I can't stand this crap anymore. Sigh. Just one more dreamer before freedom. Whenever that punk has up her sleeve I can handle it. Or she'll take me out, at this point both are good options for me. Please just fall asleep already! Hmmm... there we go, the last time that Punk Nancy will ever fall asleep. "Well momma and pappi, your daughter did as she was told. You must be proud. Get out of my sight, and if I see you two again I will kill you." And there they run. They better not try to find their daughter right way, can't have any interference. But got to keep my word. No time like the present. *poof* Oh, how sweet of her, it's my old boiler room... I mean Freddy's old boiler room. He's really fighting back now. I might die before I reach Nancy. Oh... ow... it hurts, everything hurts. Got to... there she is, no fear in her eyes. That's bad, that's very bad. It's much harder to kill someone who is not afraid of you. Well... bring on the creepy girls jumping rope. I have no idea where they come from, or why some consider them creepy. I guess some people are just sexist like that. Oh, my fucking devils... she just tore the girls apart, limb from limb... I'm screwed, she is completely covered in the blood of children. The hell? I don't want to fight her anymore. Time to delve into the mind. Bring on the werewolves... and mummies... and a Pinhead. HA!! Try to fight a guy with nails in his skull. The freak. "Nancy. Oh, Nancy punk. Whatever you are hiding, it failed already. You can kill everything here, even me. But I promise you, that hole inside of you, it will never go away. I know." Oh, she's pissed now, and a bit taken aback. She's running off from the werewolves. The pack hunts. The mummies tripped her, nice! Bandages do have their advantages. Pinhead is just standing there, useless! Oh... I'm using too much power already. Have to end this. "Eat the bitch already you damn dogs!" Oh, they just pounced, I can see a ton of blood and guts squirting everywhere. Good try punk, but you can't beat the master. Huh? Did somebody just tap my shudder?... CRAP! *slice* oh. OW! Who has a glove with knives for fingers, that's dangerous. my face! Why can't they just leave my face alone? Nancy has master dreams it seems. Two can play that game. "Good job bitch, you are just one step away from being me. If we can figure out why the hell you are so important, we could work together to make things right." She's not having it, she just wants to murder me. Oh, ow... she's got my leg, *slice* Damn, she's cutting deep, I can see my blood gushing out, black as sin. *kaching* Oh, I got her in the face! It's not pretty anymore, or punky. "Die you unless piece of slime!" *pow* Oh my hand... she vanished? This fight is not over. But I need a new strategy. Halloween is coming bitch, it's going to be a long night.

-Miny Freddy Krueger

[chorusfm]

The Menzingers Announce New Album

The Menzingers will release Some of It Was True on October 13th. Today they’ve shared the new song “Hope is a Dangerous Little Thing” and pre-orders are now up. More than 15 years in, treasured Philadelphia punk rockers The Menzingers have cemented a multi-decade reputation as road warriors with an unbeatable catalog. Today they expand their impressive repertoire with the announcement of their seventh studio album, Some Of It Was True, due for release on October 13th via Epitaph Records. Pre-order it HERE  Vocalist and guitarist Greg Barnett reveals, “Written over the last two and a half years in hotels, backstages, basements, and rehearsal rooms and recorded during a life-changing retreat down south, ‘Some Of It Was True’ is the most realized version of what we set out to do when we started this band 17 years ago—have fun and be ourselves.”  The band also shares the record’s lead single and accompanying music video, “Hope Is A Dangerous Little Thing” that balances confessional lyrics with an anthemic edge.   Four years since the release of 2019’s Hello Exile, the Menzingers presented an EP of acoustic reworks (From Exile, 2020) that saw the band “flex their creative muscles and make the most of their time away from each other in quarantine” according to Chorus.FM. Subsequently, Gregor Barnett’s solo record Don’t Go Throwing Roses In My Grave (2022) was praised by Kerrang! for its “clear-eyed songwriting never wavers.” This was around the time when Some Of It Was True started to come together.  Joined by Grammy-nominated producer Brad Cook (Bon Iver, the War on Drugs, Waxahatchee), the foursome took off to El Paso, Texas to record at the legendary Sonic Ranch. Lending his incredible ear, Cook helped accomplish the daunting task of capturing the Menzingers’ distinctive live energy within the confines of a studio. What results is their most immediate-sounding and energetic record to date, featuring a sound that’s both rich, raw, and complementary to the group’s increasingly prismatic songwriting approach.  “The Menzingers are as real as it gets,” Cook says on his time in the studio with the band. “I had an absolute blast working with these guys and was moved to tears many times. They are truly dedicated to artistic growth, and to each other, in ways I found both refreshing and beautiful. I am now a lifer.”     Speaking on the impact that Cook had on the band, Tom May says, “Brad massively changed the way we were approaching the record. We’d talk about music and develop a vocabulary about how to work together, and that made us embrace chasing the feeling instead worrying about locking in things immediately.”  Lyrically, Some Of It Was True is a showcase for how the band’s songwriting has expanded beyond their own personal experiences, drawing from what’s happening around them and the lives of those who keep this world’s lifeforce pumping. Acknowledging that they’re in a very different place than when they formed in 2008, this album embraces change and it’s definitely for the better. “This record just feels different for us,” Barnett explains. “It’s a really important one in our catalog, and a pivotal moment in our history. We have the liberty of our fans growing with us now, and after writing these lyrical songs about where we are in life, we decided to take other peoples’ stories and make something bigger out of it.”  --- Please consider becoming a member so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/news/the-menzingers-announce-new-album/