#we got the names from one of those killjoys name generators. where you do the first letter of your name and your birthday or whatever

[sunshinescare]

OCS!!!!! Sun Scare (the spikey one) is mine, Night Ray (the one with the ocean tattoos) belongs to @appreciate-your-bones

[afteriwake]

coffee shop prompts: "I will not drink whatever you just ordered for me. That would be considered torture under the Geneva Convention." Khanolly

So I decided to turn one of my Sherlock AUs into a Treklock one, which means we'll see a few other trek characters pop up maybe, but generally I wanted John Harrison & Sherlock Holmes to be cousins who work together. I just had a lot of fun with this, though it's got romantic!Sherlolly and platonic!Khanolly.

Family Resemblance (A "Serenity Coffee & Tea Shoppe" Story) - John Harrison has been a regular at Serenity Coffee & Tea Shoppe for months now, but no one realized the similarity between John and Sherlock until now. Since they're cousins, it's to be expected.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

"I will not drink whatever you just ordered for me. That would be considered torture under the Geneva Convention." Molly looked down at the order she was preparing but couldn’t help the smile that came at the familiar voice at the counter. Every day, Jim Kirk tried to get his coworker to try something different, and every day, John Harrison ended up getting an extra large black coffee with two tablespoons of milk and three sugars.

“I tried, Mary,” Jim said to her best friend and favorite employee (not that she was biased, but she did have her favorites) Mary Morstan. At Serenity, it wasn’t uncommon to have regulars who came for the service, and Jim always seemed to be flirty with all the women who worked there. John just stood to the side.

“I know you did, sweetheart,” she said. “Some people are killjoys.’

“I am not a killjoy,” John said from where he had sat at the counter with a newspaper. Molly got his coffee done as soon as she finished the order she’d been working on. John wasn’t overtly friendly with many people, but he gave a good tip.

“Here you go, John. Your usual,” she said with a smile, setting it on the counter.

“Does Lestrade have any sandwiches with turkey and Havarti today?” John asked, folding the newspaper halfway to look at her.

“He’s in the back, so if he doesn’t, I can ask him to make one. Cranberry sauce too?”

“Yes, please,” John said with a nod. It was a leftover special made when the yanks were celebrating Thanksgiving, but she had to admit, the combination of turkey, Havarti and cranberry sauce was a hit with the customers. She had no doubt Greg would whip one up for John.

“Mary, you’re my salvation,” as she handed him his very complicated coffee.

“One day my boyfriend is going to be here and you’ll flirt with me and I’ll watch you get punched,” Mary said with a chuckle. “Just because you’re American doesn’t mean it will work as an excuse.”

“You’ve got a boyfriend now?” John asked, the paper still covering his face.

“His name is John. John Watson.”

The whole paper came down in an instant. “Is Sherlock here too?”

“He is,” Molly asked, with a frown. “Why do you ask?”

“Sherlock is my cousin. I work for the same company he’s a vice-president of. I mean, I’m the Assistant CFO, but that’s just because my cousin Mycroft is the Head CFO. Good to know he has some taste.” John picked up his coffee. “You didn’t notice the resemblance? We both take after my uncle.”

“You know, now that you mention it…” Mary said. “I’d say you were almost twins. Except he dresses like a professor and has those crazy curls and you dress more like a business professional.”

“Sherlock only works there because Sigur won’t give the vice president position to John,” Jim said, taking a sip of his coffee as the bell alerting a new customer opening the door sounded.

“If my father did, John is vastly more qualified than I am,” Sherlock said as he came in. “James. John.”

“Sherlock,” John said with a nod of his head. “It seems you’ve found my secret hidey-hole.”

“I never knew you came here. Stamford told me about the place,” he said.

“Jim found it on a date with Carol,” John said. “I like the ambiance and the food.”

Sherlock pursed his lips for a moment. “Think we can convince Mycroft to use this coffee shop’s services on the corporate account?”

“I suppose we could. He’s stolen my coffees and not complained, and the prices are fair for the excellent sandwiches,” John said. “Tag-team effort?” Sherlock nodded. “We can do that Monday, then. I’m scheduled through to Friday.”

“Works for me,” he said as Lestrade came out with John’s sandwich, doing a double take as he saw Sherlock and John nearby each other. “We’re cousins.”

“Small world,” Lestrade said. “Cinnamon and pecan muffin, Sherlock?”

“Thank you. And a blueberry one for John as well.”

“This John?”

“My John,” Mary interjected. Lestrade nodded and went back to the kitchen, and Mary moved her finger, pointing between Jim, John and Sherlock. “So all four of you work for the same company?”

“Holmes & Co. Development,” Sherlock and Jim nearly said in unison as John had some of his sandwich.

“Fascinating,” Molly said.

“Honestly, I’ve been trying to talk my father into firing me and hiring my cousin in my position,” Sherlock said, sitting down next to Jim at the counter. “I’d much rather be a professor than a vice president.”

“When he dies, you inherit half the company’s stock,” John said as soon as he had swallowed his sandwich bite. “You can give it to me then and I can run the company at least as well as he is. Mycroft can stay on as CFO and Jim can have my position.”

“So you’re actually Jim’s boss?” Molly asked, looking absolutely fascinated by the whole family saga, just as Mary did.

“We were actually university roommates at Yale,” Jim said. “When I decided I needed a drastic change, John offered me the position as his right hand man, so to speak.”

“This is really interesting” Mary said. “All these months you two have been coming in and it took Sherlock becoming a regular for all of this to come out.”

“Family business is family business, but now that family is getting involved in your affairs, it can be a bit more open,” John said.

“Molly, may I speak with you? Privately?” Sherlock said after Mary handed him his usual order.

“Of course!” she said with a wide smile. Sherlock took his coffee and led her to the chairs by the bookcase with the books anyone was able to borrow. John glanced in their direction, a small smile on his face.

“He likes her, doesn’t he?” Jim said, noticing the smile.

“Indeed. And she likes him,” John said. “Good for them.”

“I thought you liked her,” Jim said in a hushed voice.

“I am...aroace, I believe is the term. I have no need for sexual or romantic relationships, nor do I desire them. Have you ever seen me talk to anyone for a date?” John asked, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

“I just thought you were a snob and super picky,” Jim said, getting a snorted laugh from Mary. “I learn something new every day.”

“You’re lucky we’re friends,” John murmured, his lips hovering over the lip of his coffee cup. Molly reached over to give Sherlock a quick kiss on the cheek and John’s expression softened. “I am a disappointment to both my father and my uncle for not continuing the family line. Mycroft is in the same boat. Perhaps Sherlock will garner some favor after all, though I know he would rather be back in Oxford.”

“Yeah, well, you do good work,” Jim said. “That’s something to take pride in.”

John nodded and then studied his friend. “You know, you do good work, too. Perhaps a promotion is in order. You deserve to be my equal, not my subordinate.”

“That sounds like it could be an interesting proposal,” Jim said before checking his watch. “We’ve got to get going. You have a meeting with Mycroft at 10:30.”

“Could I get the sandwich to go, and get another coffee for myself and Jim in a tray?” John asked Mary.

“Of course,” she said. John watched her start to prepare Jim’s coffee and he started to get his things together. There was much to think about now, but not all of it was bad. At least Sherlock was amenable to some things he thought his cousin had never considered before. That put him in a good mood for now.

[chilipepperconverse]

Ao3 Author tag game!

tagged by my bestie @plushie-sentai <3

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

19!

2. What is your Ao3 word count?

74,854 holy shit. i hadn't checked it in awhile lmao

3. What fandoms do you write for?

oh all kinds of shit, but rn i'm up to my eyeballs in tokusatsu. i tend to jump from fandom to fandom depending on my current hyperfixations HSKDJGS

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

in the fall we sleep all day (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

the end was soon (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

feeling so alive, feeling something (my hero academia, tododeku)

we both need it to forget this fear (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

if that's what it takes (my hero academia, tododeku)

all of these are like. at least 4 years old LMAO

5. Do you respond to comments?

i always do!!

6. Which of your fics has the angstiest ending?

mmmm depends on your definition i think. if you include canon compliant events its def one of my danganronpa fics (a foreign still or light of the moon) but that feels boring to me SO i might say my most recent fic for kamen rider ex-aid (or just mine tonight) since it ends on kindof a sour note for the characters? im not sure tbh, as much as i love angst in a fic i tend to like happier or ambiguous endings.

7. Which of your fics has the happiest ending?

that's an easy one! my dimension 20: mentopolis fic (whale fall) was written before the finale and was my guess as to what would happen w one of the pairs of characters, and its very sweet and wholesome i think :3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully no!

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

i do! i used to be terrified of it, but i think i've gotten better the more i write! i don't hold any bars on what kind of smut i'll write, either-- whatever the characters are workin with, i'll do it!! lmao

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest crossover you've written?

i used to! back when i wrote for achievement hunter i wrote an au where the fake AH crew were killjoys, like from gerard way's comics and the MCR album danger days :p i got uncomfy with RPF as i got older tho so those fics are all lost media now HSJGHJD

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope! not that i'm aware of anyways lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope but if anyone wants to... pleading emoji

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not unless roleplay counts... i used to rp a certain anime with friends mostly as a joke in high school but we did try and write story-format roleplay a few times

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

i don't much care for it or the property anymore bc i've got some bad experiences tied to it, but i think the ship i've gone the most batshit over is probably jonmartin from the magnus archives. right now tho? definitely best match from kamen rider build <3

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

my magnus archives dnd au (write an anthem worth repeating), for aforementioned reasons of not feeling good about the source material anymore :( a shame bc i thought my writing in that fic was nice

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think i'm pretty good at characterization! i get a lot of comments saying i give good insight into how characters feel which is lovely to hear, bc thats what i like most about writing fanfic!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

PACING... AND PLOTS IN GENERAL... why do you think i only write one-shots!! 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don't trust myself enough to do it right... i write a lot of fic for japanese media so the most i'll do is use the japanese word for something that can't be translated (names of foods for example)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

god probably warrior cats in like 3rd grade... on Ao3 tho it was achievement hunter, but those are gone like i said earlier </3

20. Favorite fic you've written?

is it cheating if i say my wip?? ;3

i'm gonna tag @meganechan05 bc i cant remember who else im moots with who writes fic but if you see this and wanna do it go ahead n say i tagged you!! :D

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

yknow it's funny how people perceive you and how you (or personality tests lmao) perceive yourself/you. like last week at my cadetship grad, the manager of it said in her blurb about me, that I was "naturally shy and quiet, but she came out of her shell, eventually"... some of the people in the group around this time last year found out that if you load me up on wine and shots, that im super loud, kinda obnoxious, and wild... and kept trying to drag me back out on town in sydney.... and to also say "im the sexiest bitch here!!!!" even to their families lmao... someone in the course even called me "charismatic" in feedback, and it stayed with me for the rest of the program.

from years 7-10 (early to mid high school in 2008-2011), I was known for being all edgy, wild "not giving a fuck what people think about you" and "marching to your own drum", weird, loud, funny..... you get the picture.... at the catholic school I was at.

back then, i was NEVER deemed as quiet or "shy" or "introverted" or "keeps to herself" etc etc.... actually, by year 10, when lame buzzfeed and other personality quiz sites started to spit out that I was introverted and gave me other readings that weren't extroverted (eg. I remember doing one about "what aussie animal are you???" and it gave me koala (extremely introverted, shy, and sleepy) instead of kookaburra or cockatoo (which were both extreme examples of extroversion))..... I got SO FUCKING ANGRY that those quizzes were basically calling me a killjoy and boring, bc I was a koala who was the above listed characteristics. like hell, my drama class kept telling me to pursue comedy or do stand up (im not that funny tbh, in hindsight) bc I was just so talkative, loud and such a show off jackass that.... yeah, I might as well be a stand-up comic, throw it at me.

but then, when I moved schools in 2012 to public school, I played the precocious, diligent, modest/placid (except for my group), and timid former catholic school girl they thought I was (but really wasn't- we all know how) so well for my teachers.... that I basically got asked frequently by my bio teacher before I went to tafe every second thursday, "I really can't see how you EVER excelled in drama, when you're so flighty and nervous???? what were your marks like??? you never talk in this class or get up and address the school, like a drama kid would..... what do you mean you were nearly a straight A student in drama??? what on earth??? again, you're so introverted and thoughtful here at *insert the schools name here* that you possibly couldn't excel in that subject????"

like mr garrel, pls consider that I HATE biology and resent this line of questioning very much. also, NEVER say any of that to my drama teacher, I'm sure he'd fight you at this point. moreover, consider that drama isn't in the subject selection for my year. plus, y'all need funding for new drama room equipment, so that's why I'm quiet. and finally, I've learnt that being the loud show-off, weird, "you march to your own drum" girl for the ENTIRE year group for the first 4 years of high school, was much too tiring.... so now I just limit it to my friend group only.

now, back in the present day.... yesterday, I did a chatbot interview for kmart. where after I answered the 5 questions of it, it emailed me the "personality insights" from my answers. one of the insights basically said that, "you have no problem being the centre of attention, and you generally gravitate towards people who have the same energy as you. but have you ever considered piping the fuck down??? bc this may scare people, bc you seem not to let them voice their opinions. learn to sit and listen to others more often and dim your natural Loud Personality™️. "

like, I guess it's "I contain multitudes" and everything else, where you turn on different parts of your personality for different situations. like at work last year, I very much wanted to be left alone to do my fucking assessments.... and eventually, wanted to get out into the field to do home visits (inspections) and shit for my assessments.... but the place I worked at deemed me "too shy" for fieldwork, and just stuck me on back office phones for the entire rest of my cadetship.

but throw me into the cadetship group, and everyone always made me the leader of group projects or activities with powerpoints (when quite a few of them already knew how to use powerpoint, but they didn't want to do it.... so they just passed it onto me and called me the "powerpoint whiz")... and obvs the one night where a few of them got me wasted and met Loud Ilona™️ , that I started this post with.

and I know work is NOT the place to be my super extroverted performer self, so I'll get quiet and mousy in the back... and most esp in the trainee/cadet position I was in.... bc that's how I learn most of the time. by being quiet and thoughtful and methodical (while also being impulsive).... which that place (and also the kmart test picked this up through "you're easily distracted and that ruins productivity. pls consider staying on task and caring about productivity levels") really didn't want me to be.

anyway, yeah. it's something I'll always be wary about, how my personality presents itself to different people.... and also what mood I'm in when I do personality tests or job interviews. also the

[chaos-in-bright-pink-hair-dye]

hey i'm new to the fandom uhh. what's the general kinda. commonly-known lore. like i know the bare minimum and i would like to know more if that's alright :D thanks!!

Hi and welcome! I hope you're having fun so far :D

But commonly known lore, that's a tough one because honestly there's very little official lore, ofc the music videos are great base followed by the comic(definitely go read it, many of us still ignore the lore from it but it's great starting point) but from there most of us just run completely of the rails.

I have compiled some basics like important characters, main ideas and believes, some resources etc. but probably the best way to learn more is to discover. Look through different blogs, enjoy fanart, read fics, talk to people, this fandom has wide range and no two people have the same version of the world and that's the most beautiful part. And ofc you are always welcome here if you have questions or just to chat! Maybe don't even read all these boring paragraphs and go explore instead if you want. And here's a link to a masterpost by vinyls-and-valentines with even more links. Oh and definitely read the comic before this post if you haven't yet, there are some spoilers here and it will be more enjoyable that way.

There are archives of the twitter accounts which many use as a reference but the posts themselves are kinda incomprehensive and the only important part are some characters that are not included in any other media but I'll mention those later

Besides the main characters - The Fabulous Killjoys often also called The Fabulous Four and the Girl who they hope will save them all we also have:

Dr Death Defying, a radio host and as many believe, adoptive father of every lost kid he finds

Agent Cherri Cola, killjoy as old as the fab four, he's both in the comic and on twitter but his personality completely changes between these two medias, it's wildly accepted he hosts Cherri Cola's poetry corner on the radio

Tommy Chow Mein, runs a shop in the zones - the shop where the Girl finds Party Poison's mask in the comic, he is the seller, wildly overpriced, also robs corpses for anything that's still usable, popular joke is that he and Dr Death used to be married

The Ultra Vs, the gang from the comic, not really that popular since the characters are very underdeveloped, but many people still write awesome fics with them and do them justice, highly recommend if you get tired of the usual fab four stuff at some point, also we hate Val Velocity

Red and Blue, the two droids from the comic, they are girlfriends obviously

Korse (the bald bad guy, a Scarecrow=agent specially trained to hunt killjoys), Exterminators (soldiers with white sacks over their heads) and Draculoids (guys with ugly latex masks, usually believed to be dead people/killjoys that got turned by the mask) if you need bad guys for your fan work these are your people, no danger days fanart can exist without them

Show Pony, the killjoy on roller-skates from na na na music video, believed to be non-binary by many

NewsaGoGO, a character from twitter, also a radio host

DJ Hot Chimp, a character from twitter and a radio host as well

When someone mentions the Radio crew or something in that sense they usually mean Dr Death, Cherri Cola, Show Pony, Newsie, Hot Chimp

Also as you can notice pretty much no one uses the full names they are too long but you'll get used to it in no time

Mad Gear, probably the most popular singer in the zones, has a band called Mad Gear and the Missile Kid, sometimes Missile Kid is an actual member other times it's more of an imaginary concept, here's an EP MCR released

Oh yeah also the desert is often referred to as the zones, here's a map as well. The zones surround Battery City which is run by Better Living Industries, shortly BL/Ind, how the whole situation came to be is explained shortly here. Killjoys are people who escaped the city because of the way it's run (different versions but usually brain washing, propaganda, pills etc.) and obviously BL/Ind is not very happy about that so they send scarecrows, exterminators and draculoids to catch/kill the runaways. Also the city turns souls of dead people into electricity.

Big part of killjoy lore are also their masks and bad luck beads, masks tie their owner's soul to them and so when the owner dies (gets ghosted, dusted etc in killjoy slang) the mask is put into a special mailbox where a deity called Phoenix Witch saves them from being turned into electricity in the city. In many cases she can also return people back to life if she wants to. (also Witchfucker Wednesday is a thing I think you can guess what that's about) Bad luck beads are beads killjoys wear around their wrists and they are supposed to keep them lucky

Forementioned Phoenix Witch and Destroya are deities, both are quite well explained in the comic.

Also people often mention Graffiti bible in their works, that's a book similar to bible created by droids, but when I say book it's more of an idea usually it doesn't have an actual physical form of a book rather some scattered pages at best.

And if you see someone talking about Party Poison's piss kink that relates to hanky code and Party's yellow bandana they wore around their leg

That reminds me of another thing, go wild with pronouns and gender when forming your versions of the characters, some people use he for one character, other use she or neo pronouns for the same character and it's all fine and gender is fake there's only sand but also everything is very gender and everyone is very queer, it's a lot of fun

Some more interesting stuff to look into:

Little list I made with common headcanons (since venom brothers isn't explained people often use it to refer to Party and Kobra)

Dr Death listening Party

Sing outtake version (the story goes slightly different here)

Mousekat episode (Mousekat is presumably a show for kids made by BL/Ind as a form of propaganda. It's also Party Poison's furry head)

playlist of few other interesting videos

[lizhly-writes]

i do not have anything very new for you this week.  i do, however, have this revised version of the first chapter of the ‘villainess’ side of my heroine-villainess isekai bodyswap story, which is, essentially, a full rewrite.  i have made some changes that have brought our pov character a little more in line with my mental image of her.  to quote someone that i had look at this: ‘Before mina seemed more refined like she kills u by poisoning u thru ur tea and then "ohoho"ing as u slowly lose consciousness and die, and now mina seems like she kills u by straight up ripping ur spine out lol’

i always did wonder why i never saw the ‘original’ villainess in otome isekai stories do some major physical damage for funsies, y’know?

warning: this thing is 2k+ words long. 

Why’s it so fucking loud.  Who’s screaming bloody murder in here?  Shut up, I got the worst headache and whatever slick steaming pile of shit you think you are, you ain’t making it better.  If you won’t keep that hole in your face quiet, what if I just heal it closed?  You won’t get a choice then, how about that?

I’m laid out flat on the floor, too. It’s wet, there’s something soaking in my shirt and my hair.  It better not be vomit.  Three fucking faces of Knight, how much did I drink last night.

I crack an eye open. “Th’ fuck’s goin’ on.”

There are people with the dumbest fucking faces staring down at me.  “You’re awake!” one of them exclaims, like everyone else has useless holes for eyes.  Course I’m awake, that something you really feel you gotta tell the world?

“Shit, really?  Wow!  Never woulda guessed,” I say as I drag myself to my feet.  Urgh, feels like I drank my way through the entire bar.  Did I get run over by a carriage or something too?  I’m real fucked up — balance off, arms and legs ain’t landing right, everything aches, and I got clothes on that look like I stole them from a crackpot fashion student.  

Though, hey, looks like everyone here is dressed like that.  Maybe it’s the crackpot fashion student side of campus. I’m in some really shiny cafe, by the looks of it.  The aesthetic here is… really something.  Didn’t know we had this kind of place at the university.

Let’s put that aside for now.  I crack my neck and ignore everyone talking at me as I give the entire place a once-over.  No sign of Emily or Asher, which doesn’t sound right.  If I’m this messed up, normally Asher’d be right there with me.  Emily, at least, would’ve tracked me down and tried to kick me in the head or something.  Not that I’d need a kick in the head, it hurts bad enough as it is.  Maybe enough that I can say that I’ve knocked something loose.  Hearing’s definitely off, it’s doing funny things to my voice.  Not liking that very much at all.

“How much is a drink ‘round here?” I say, because while alcohol got me into this, I’ve heard great things on how alcohol can get me out of this.

“I don’t think you need a drink,” says an absolute fucking killjoy from somewhere behind me.

“‘Scuse me?” I say as I do an about-face.  The killjoy in question looks boring enough that I’d forget him instantly if it weren’t for the eyes.  Real pretty shade of blue, nice enough that probably some asshole’s tried yanking them from his skull.  It’s a wonder he still has them!  Maybe he’s a good enough fight that people don’t bother, huh?

He doesn’t react when I step in for a closer look — yeah, there we go, left eye, the scars are barely there, but it looks like someone’s been using their nails to make an attempt.  Honestly, you’d think he’d flinch a little with me getting that close to his face, it’s not like his glasses’ll be any good at protecting him.  But no, he just stands there and says, “I think you need first aid.  You might have a concussion.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re bleeding.  A lot.”

…Hmm.  

“Am I?” I say.  I reach for the bits of me that I’d hoped hadn’t been sitting in vomit and… yeah.  My fingers come away red.  

Trace a little further up to the back of my head, and there’s the head wound.  Not as deep as I’d think, but it’s there, along with a very long braid I don’t remember getting.

Maybe I am concussed.  Should’ve noticed both of those things a lot sooner.

“Yeahhhhh, okay,” I say.  “Lil later, then.”  After I fix myself up, maybe.

“I think you’re actually supposed to avoid drinking after a concussion altogether,” says Absolute Fucking Killjoy.

“Fuck you,” I say. Of all things, that’s what gets him to flinch.  Interesting priorities he’s got there.

About the drink, though.  He ain’t wrong.   I know how head wounds work.  But those rules on what to do with them?  That’s for other people.

“You need a doctor—”

Please.  Last time I needed a doctor was years ago.  

This kind of thing, it’s easy enough to take care of.  So easy that it should be already healed up, but whatever.  Just a little concentration, and —

And.

...What's this?  

“That’s new,” I say, squinting at the crackling light running over the palm of my hand.  Real fancy, real nice to look at.  Doesn’t feel like much, but I bet I could make something like this hurt if I wanted to.  Nice little add-on, this.  I like what I got — I’m the best with what I got — but power is power.  Nothing wrong with having a little extra in your punches.

Except this ain't anything I can do. This ain't anything I should be able to do.  That’s pretty fucking strange, isn’t it?

“What are you doing,” says Killjoy, voice sharp.  

The face he’s making is probably hilarious.  It’s less interesting than the way light curls over my fingers, trailing over my wrist as I twist my hand this way and that.  If I let it, maybe it’d spread further up my arm.  How much higher could it go, really?

I don’t get to find out, because Killjoy snatches my hand, snapping his own fingers over it until only light you can see has to fight its way out from where skin meets skin.  And then it’s not even that, dying away until it goes dark completely.

Oh this bitch.  

“Well, ain’t you forward, huh?” I say, baring my teeth.  “What d’you think you’re doin’?”

“You’ve got a concussion,” Killjoy reminds me, like he thinks I forgot.  I ain’t forgetting nothing, got it?  It’s easy to take care of — just a little thought, and maybe it’s taking a little more effort, but the skin knits up just fine.

I sweep a hand lightly over the back of my head, just to make sure everything’s in order.  The swelling’s gone down, the bruising’s gone, eyesight seems pretty clear.  Headache and bodyache’s still there, which is annoying.  There’s been some improvement, but that’s not what I’m looking for.  It should be gone.  Is it not physical damage, then?  What, is it psychosomatic or something?  That’s a shit explanation.

It’s only after my self-checkup that I realize that Killjoy is still talking.  “— can take you to the clinic,” he’s saying, sounding very earnest.  He’s still holding my hand.

I shake him off impatiently.  “That’s unnecessary,” I say, and push open the shiny glass doors so I can find Asher or Emily or someone and go on with my life.

I don’t get more than a few steps outside before I realize I’m running headfirst into a problem. Namely, that the outside that greets me is not the university.   Not even close.  Not unless the mayor sent the entire city crashing down and decided to rebuild from the ground up.  Not unless everyone collectively decided to take overly-caffeinated fashion students’ advice when it came to everyday wear.  Not unless somebody made far too many innovations in automobile development and decided to implement them on every vehicle I can see here.  Not unless all of that happened while I was passed out.

No.  I should have noticed that before, too.  I don’t pass out.  Alcohol fucks me up, sure.  But I’ve never drunk so much that I got knocked unconscious.  I’ve never been able to drink enough to knock me unconscious.

…I remember now.  I didn’t go out drinking last night.  No, what happened was that some asshole attacked me— or, you know, tried to attack me for maybe a solid minute before I started beating the shit out of him for daring to ambush me.  I was doing quite a good job, if I do say so myself. I know I broke some bones, broke his face, had my hands around his neck, and it would have only taken me a second or so more -- just one good squeeze! -- to pulp his windpipe, and he would be dead. 

But I didn’t get to that part.  The last thing I remember was putting just enough pressure on his throat to make him choke, and then… nothing.  That’s it. That’s all I have before I woke up in the cafe.

I’m missing something.  I know I am.   It’s pissing me off.   

That fuckwad.  What did he do?  Clearly I made a mistake letting him breathe for more than a minute or so, I should’ve just killed him on sight.  If I find him again — no, when I find him again — I’m going to squeeze the answers out of him and grind his skull into paste, I’m gonna make him wish he was never born, I’m gonna make sure he’s in so many fucking pieces no one can tell his —

“Hey,” says Killjoy, because I suppose he followed me out or something. “We really need to get you to a doctor.  I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but even if it’s not a concussion, it’s safer to get it looked at, you know?  You said you were on university insurance, right? So it’s not like it’s even going to cost —”

And then he shuts up, because I have him by the collar of his shirt and he’s suddenly bent over enough that he’s barely an inch away from my face.

“Please.  Would you kindly keep your mouth closed,” I say.  “If not, I’m afraid I’ll have to make you choke on your own teeth.  Do I make myself clear.”

Killjoy doesn’t close his mouth.  It’s hanging open gently, his pretty blue eyes wide and shocked.  But I suppose he understands the spirit of what I’m asking for, because he doesn’t say anything, even when I let him go and kindly push him back upright.

Well, no, actually, there is one thing.  There’s a name he whispers: Allison.  But it’s so quiet that I can generously pretend I can’t hear it and let him keep his mouth in one piece.  I leave him standing there, and set off.

Where?  It doesn’t matter.  I walk through black-paved streets and stone-slab sidewalks, speed past too-tall buildings and too-bright colors and hoping for — I don’t know. One familiar building.  Something, anything, that I can recognize.

But… nothing. It’s like I’m an entirely different country.  An entirely different world.

How long was I out?  Am I missing memories?  What did that sad excuse for an ambusher do?

As if this day couldn’t get any better, Killjoy finds me at the entrance of a tiny, cramped alleyway, shadowed by buildings rising tall around.

“You just never fuckin’ give up, do you?” I say, sharp smile sliding easily across my face. I don’t know where I am, but I know I’m a fair distance away from where I started.  He can’t have just coincidentally run into me.  He had to have either followed me or known where I’d end up.  It doesn’t matter which.  Either option means that he’s still thinking of me.

He starts when I turn around and face him — he probably didn’t expect me to figure out he was there that quickly, huh? Well, I have to give him credit, he really is quiet.  And he stays quiet, too, even as he scrambles backwards when I start stalking towards him.

“You gonna tell me I need a doctor again, huh?”

Go on.  Say it.  I gave you a warning, I told you what I’d do to you, it’s not my fault you can’t listen.  I’m looking forward to it, actually!  Thank you for showing up just when I needed stress relief!

“… not Allison,” Killjoy says, so softly I barely hear it.

“Pardon?”

“You’re not Allison,” he hisses, and oh, is that a sight — his eyes are aglow, the light behind them illuminating their blue so that it shines against the darkness.  How pretty.  How valuable.  Even more so than when I thought the only thing that stood out about them was the color.  Really, how good of a fight must he be that he still has them?

I’m gonna find out.

[nightswithkookmin]

I am curious about your take on something. So Taekook probably hate the idea of Taekook, right? If Jk and Jimin are together (as I beleive they are) then the very idea of taekook has to be like sooo weird for everyone, especially when it results in hate directed at Jimin. So why don't Taekook agree to like NEVER LAY HANDS ON ONE ANOTHER in public. I know they shouldnt have to. They like skinship and all. And no one is going cray cray over jinkook or jihope etc. But its an easy fix? Maybe not?

Tradshippers... Haha.

The gag being Tuktukkers say the same thing about Jimin and Jikook all the time- if V is his soulmate and friend, shouldn't he keep his hands off JK? Shouldn't he respect the sanctity of his friends' relationship? Doesn't he care that his actions with JK hurt Tae? That he is wrecking another man's home, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Heard it all before. Not particularly impressed by that level of rudimentary mental adroitness- at all. It all flows from insecurities and or the shipper's dissatisfaction with how these people in reality interact with one another because that often tend to be in disharmony with their shipping fantasies about their OTP.

The shipping community in general is a fantasy bubble. Haven't done much research on its demographics but from my observation, it seems the younger demographic can't seem to detach fantasy from reality while the much 'adult' population'- perhaps, for fear of having their reality warped or their hearts broken, are too engrossed in reality as such tend to approach shipping with quizical glares at best, cynicism, skepticism and what I like to call a false sense of logic- at worst.

Then of course, there are those in between.

But one thing they all seem to have in common is their emotional response to the demystification of their fantasies. Like any fantasy, people tend to lash out at or carry resentment towards anything or anyone that threatens their false sense of safety built around their fantasy.

For Taekookers they tend to lash out at Jimin or even Jokers because they threaten their sense of ship safety. Jokers do the same with JK more so than Tae, but Tae too nevertheless.

Taekook, Jinkook and the other ships Jikooker's are threatened by are viewed as threats and looked upon with disdain and resentment only because they ruin the fantasy of Jikook for them and nothing else.

And if that's not the case, then these people are too invested in someone else's relationship and lack both personal and emotional boundaries- it's their relationship not ours.

You can't sit in your homes, behind the screens and pilot someone else's relationship or point out what is wrong with their relationship and feel strongly about it to the point you start demanding and dictating how they should relate with eachother or their friends- that's entitlement and borderline toxicity which is scary, not gonna lie.

Jikook and Vmin equally ruin the fantasy of Taekook for their shippers. And they look to Jimin as the grinch and killjoy, hence lash out against him without reservation.

In a perfect shipping alternate universe, Taekook or Jikook would be couples within a group where it's glaringly clear that they are couples and as such no other ship would compete or interact with them in a way that raises questions about the general perception of them as a couple unit within the group or threaten their status as such. But this is reality. Not fantasy. And it just doesn't work that way.

Most of these conversational topics you raise are about how people want their OTP to behave rather than how their OTP actually behave towards one another.

It's especially disconcerting when their disapproval of an interaction stems from them 'wrongly' labeling or interpreting that interaction as 'intimate' and or romantic and proceed to go on an emotionally charged rant on behalf of their OTP calling for them to instill boundaries.

Maybe Tae is not instilling boundaries for JK with Jimin because he doesn't have the right to? Because he is not in a relationship with either Kook or Jimin?

Maybe Jimin is not telling Tae and Kook to keep the skinship off cameras because he is not bothered by the 'hate he receives' because of their interactions?

Tae kook have been interacting on our screens for 7 good years. You think if Jimin found their interactions as problematic or disrespectful to his relationship with Kook that he wouldn't have nipped that in the bud?

Have you not seen him react a countless time to when he is uncomfortable with an interaction that crosses his limits or boundaries? It should tell you he doesn't have a problem with Tae Kook at all.

He only has a problem when an interaction crosses the line. Same with JK. And if due to his ideosyncracy he can't stomach an interaction, he averts his eyes. I don't think he would want them to stop interacting all together. If he did that would be problematic because they are all friends and he doesn't own Kook or vice versa.

Also the statement that Tae Kook need to keep their skinship off camera because Jimin receives a lot of hate because of it is a non sequitur. Tae kook is not the reason Jimin recieves a lot of hate in the fandom. Jikook is.

Taekook doesn't hurt Jimin, Jikook does. People lash out at Jimin because of his interactions with JK not because of JK's interaction with with Tae.

So the solution would not be for Tae and Kook to keep their skinship off camera, it would be for JK and Jimin to not interact on camera at all. I mean if we are being honest.

And all those who claim JK isn't protecting Jimin because his interactions with Tae is what fuels the passions of Tuktukkers towards Jimin, think again...

JK puts up boundaries with Tae as it is. Out of all BTS, they are the two who have openly admitted to having 'drifted apart' over the years- I wonder why. When Tae spoke about wanting JK to treat him as a friend rather than hyung, JK told him he couldn't do that because that would have led to a lot of fights between them. What other boundaries do y'all expect him to put up again?

Dude rarely nurtures his relationship outside Jimin within the group- responding to texts a whole year later and what not.

And even with this, Jimin recieves a lot of backlash regardless. I think we need to stop justifying hate. There is no justification for hate. No excuse is excuse enough for the traumatization of another human being.

JK equally gets dragged for filth in these shipping streets. Tuktukkers hate him as much as they hate Jimin because of his interactions with Jimin. Tae stans hate him. Jimin stans hate him. He is neither here nor there. He got called a pig, sissy, and all kinds of derogatory names when he pulled away at KBS when Tae wanted to hold his hands.

Jokers, PJM jokers drag him for filth in their gcs and shit and equally hates on him because to him he doesn't love Jimin enough or at all. Especially, when he doesn't interact with JM in a way that pleases them.

The problem is Jikook. Both Jimin and JK will have their peace of mind if they didn't interact at all and kept their relationship private. The best way for JK to protect his boyfriend from all this bullshit is to keep a safe distance from him and act like he doesn't know him or never met him- because that is how Kpop idols usually protect their relationships.

And yet, and YET, when he does just that y'all jump on his neck on every turn, screaming Jk hates Jimin and doesn't love him. I gotta ask-

WHAT Y'ALL WANT FROM JK?!

People just like to ruin beautiful things, don't they?

And while we are at it, let me address this Ask I got a few days ago claiming if JK loves Jimin then it doesn't make sense for him to want to act so loud with Jimin or express his feelings for him in a way that out's their relationship because that can hurt Jimin and bring him a lot of hate...

You think Jimin openly loving on JK doesn't bring JK a lot of hate too? Damn. It's the double standards for me. Lmho.

Listen, JM has a duty to protect JK just as much as JK has a duty to protect JM. By your logic, if Jimin loves Jk then he equally needs to stop doting on him in public because his love causes JK as much pain as JK's love causes Jimin- but Jimin can't stay away now can he?

Jimin had to ask JK permission to express himself the way that he does with him- on their Log when he asked JK if he was ok with him saying he loved him on camera. Jk had a need to keep their relationship private, Jimin had a need to keep it open and clearly didn't want to hide their relationship. But they have since outgrown their old selves. Their wants and their needs have changed- if you pay attention to JK's lyrics in recent times.

Their dynamics keep flipping. And they are constantly negotiating their needs, from my perspective anyway- let them do them. Y'all didn't seem to have a problem when in their earlier dynamics Jimin was the one pushing for them to be open with their relationship. JK eventually gave up his need to hide their relationship didn't he? And overtime he became comfortable expressing affection for Jimin openly.

Yet, suddenly when JK wants the same thing in their relationship y'all claim he is being unreasonable and unfair towards Jimin? Huh?

Granted, he over does it sometimes. Yes. Lol.

But you can't hold Jikook to different standards. They are both human and their feelings for eachother are equally valid. Their needs from eachother are valid in the same weight.

If Jimin gets to show the whole world just how much he loves JK and because of that many people are convinced Jimin loves JK more than JK loves him- even if half of the time he is using fanservice as a cover or even his persona as a cover, then why can't JK equally use his art or whatever means he prefers as a cover to show the world just how much he loves Jimin?

...Even if half of the time he is borderline outing him and getting him in trouble? Lol. That's just the love if you ask me. Hehehe.

Chilee JK, you make it hard to defend you sometimes! Lol. Just don't out your man. How hard is that!😭🤭

Seriously though, you don't think he wants people to see he loves Jimin too? Damn, y'all be reading Jimin wrong. Because Jimin loves it when JK shows the world he loves him... Did you see his face after Rosebowl? Why do you think JK keeps cutting it close? Dude is gunning for the points. Lmho. Jikook speak eachother's love language. Let that sink in.

If JK is pushing against the glass closet it's because he is convinced that that is something Jimin wants but is afraid to go after and he is the fearless one among the two. Y'all just be fighting the wrong battles. Lmho.

Jikook is asserting themselves against eachother. They are pushing eachother's boundaries and I don't think that is necessarily a bad thing.

You can't claim JK doesn't love Jimin and in the same breath condemn and disapprove of the ways he expresses himself and his love for Jimin- I think you need to free JK now!

Between Tuktukkers and certain Jokers, I don't know who is worse- Nevermind, I'm not a fan tradshippers in general.

JK is there to please his man not shippers and the way I see it Jimin looks like a satisfied customer to me.

If you are dissatisfied with Jikook, there are a countless other ships in BTS. Get on one. See how that goes. Lol.

Where were we, Anon?

Oh right, Tae Kook. Lol.

I think we need to learn to hold the right people accountable for their actions. The problem is not Tae Kook, or Jikook or any other ship. The problem is with the toxic shippers who use them as an excuse to perpetuate unfathomable hurt towards the boys and towards others.

I think Tuktukkers need to develop a better attitude towards Jikook. Jikooker's need to do the same about Tae Kook or Jin Kook.

Personally, I would rather Jikook kept their relationship private but I also understand their need to take advantage of the glass closet- secrets are hard to hide. They get heavy before they get easy.

And Jimin loves to be loved. He loves when you show him off. It's part of his love language. You can't date him and Keep him a secret- and still we question why JK doesn't want to hide him.

If y'all don't want to ship Jikook that's fine. I'll ship them myself.😒

Whatever decisions they are making, I support it wholeheartedly. I support them with every fiber of my being.

LONG LIVE JIKOOK. JIKOOK IS REAL.

Signed,

GOLDY

[tothedarkdarkseas]

The way Vampire AU has taken off has really warmed my heart! So many great thoughts all round. I sent you some elaborations on my own personal headcanons for it as a submission, just for the fun of it. Enjoy!

Hi! I got your submission last night and read over it-- it's very elaborate, you've clearly put a lot of thought into fleshing this AU out and it sounds like a ton of fun. I know you mentioned at the end that you had no intentions of writing it because you're busy with other fandom projects, but I'm sure there are many who'd be interested in reading your ideas if you ever decided to make a sideblog for it. I'll post your submission for others to read below a cut here so that the post won't be too long on the dashboard, and I'll reply to some of the specifics underneath!

Yes! I have so many more thoughts on a vampire AU, I figured it would be easier to put them in a submission. Hope you don't mind.

The concept is just so fascinating to me, because so much of it lines up perfectly with the character dynamics we're given in the canon, and what doesn't has the potential to expand on and explore those dynamics in a really interesting way.

I agree 100 percent about the tone it would have to be written in. An actual brooding, dark prince Murdoc type of thing wouldn't work for me. (Murdoc would try to play up that persona, but in reality, he'd be far from it.) In my mind, the tone would be half What We Do In The Shadows and half Being Human UK. Four misfits living in a mouldering mansion somewhere, getting on each other's tits - but deep down they've got each other's backs. There's a bond, even if they can't quite explain what it is.

In my mind the bloodlust would function as an addiction. Murdoc is no Mother Theresa but he's not comfortable with indiscriminate murder either. (Guilt and self-loathing is not a good combination in Murdoc.) Knowing there is no in between for vampires - you can't have a sip here and there, it's abstinence or nightly slaughter - he stays teetotal from blood and tries to channel his desires into other addictions instead. Any and every addiction, really. Drugs, booze, sex, theft, you name it. Which is how he comes to be doing donuts in a stolen car in a Tesco car park, at the exact same time Stuart Pot is making a midnight run for condoms and Tango.

I picture Murdoc's turning of Stu would be this confusing moment that even he can't fully explain, so he's always switching his story about it. One day he'll say he didn't want to deal with the police, another day it'll be vampire enforcers he was afraid of - "total killjoys, they'll bung you in a blood-filled coffin for a hundred years over the TINIEST infraction". Other days he comes close to admitting he felt guilty, that he flipped out over the idea of killing someone after all, when he's dedicating all his energy to avoiding doing just that. Sometimes he just calls it a moment of madness.

But in every vampire movie, there's that moment. The moment where the newly-turned vamp rises from the grave as this beautiful unearthly creature of the night, and I mean . . . this absolutely would be Murdoc's experience of it. He's almost convinced himself there aren't real vampires like that, that it's all Hollywood bollocks, and then Stu rises up in front of him like some black-eyed, blue-haired god, and the part of Murdoc that isn't utterly gobsmacked by it can't help resenting the little sod for making it look so easy. Murdoc likes to take the piss out of him and claim he's like one of those Lost Boys California pretty boy vampires, but he's jealous really.

I imagine Murdoc would be similarly mercurial about how he was turned. There's always some hyperbolic story about it, designed to paint Murdoc in the best light. Sometimes he was the premier occultist of his day. Sometimes he sold his soul to the devil for immortality. Sometimes he was turned by a beautiful vampire seductress, who was bitter he broke her heart. It's all bollocks. The truth is definitely something less glamorous, and I would imagine actually much sadder as well? I'm not sure what, but I'm picturing something like Murdoc's father being some small-time occultist who sold his son to vampires, or maybe Murdoc was working some menial job and was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was turned by some vampire who would have drunk him dry, if Murdoc hadn't fought him off. Or maybe it's a bit of mystery, like the mystery of his mother in canon. Someone did this to Murdoc, someone made him what he is, but he has no memory of it. And all the different stories are actually partly a coping mechanism for that, as he tries on different explanations for size. (It would also explain why he would refuse to abandon Stu after turning him. Because navigating this new reality alone is something he wouldn't wish on anyone, even some dumb kid.)

I think the supernatural element would also be a great way to expand on and deepen Murdoc's relationships with Russell and Noodle. In supernatural fiction there are always two types of beings that hate each other. Usually vampires and werewolves, but often vampires and ghosts too. As, obviously, vamps can't drain ghosts, and they spend their lives running from the guilt of all the people they've killed. Ghosts are a constant reminder of that - and of the afterlife they both fear, and resent that they were denied. I can picture Russell maybe helping Murdoc exorcise the ghost of Hannibal or Jacob, and that's how they meet. (And why he has more patience with Murdoc than most. He's seen him at his most vulnerable.) Noodle would be great as a vampire hunter too. Her dynamic with Murdoc would be fraught as on the one hand, she respects Russell and venerates him for his connection to the spirit world, so to a certain extent anything he says she'll try to respect. And Murdoc is supposedly reformed, and she has moments where she even almost quite likes him. But her instinct is not to trust him. Her instinct is to put him down, and they both know it. As much as he battles his bloodlust around her, she battles her urge to put a stake through his heart, Van Helsing style.

Finding out he turned someone would be a MAJOR ruck in their relationship. But I think Murdoc would use 2-D to convince her and Russell to stick around - because he turned him, but it wasn't like he was chowing down on the lad, it was practically an act of charity, really. Practically an act of atonement. And if they both leave now, Stu is only left with Mr Bad Influence Murdoc Niccals, to teach him how to be a vampire, and restrain his urges and whatnot. And Murdoc has never been much good at all that AA, 12 step stuff, so unless they WANT poor sweet Stuart Pot to wind up spending eternity as some kind of crackhead . . . it would be a kindness to him, really, to stick around.

I could not agree more about how Murdoc turning Stu would mirror their Phase Two dynamic, with Stu literally having become "the thing Murdoc turned him into", and resenting that. But also, having moments of perverse gratitude for it? Stu is vain, and vampire Stu would be gorgeous, which I reckon he'd love. And though I think he'd hate that his normal life of footy with the boys and Sunday dinner at his mum's was over, I can also imagine him feeling this whole new world has opened up in front of him, something most people aren't special enough to gain entry to. And he likes that.

I can even see the fame thing and the band happening. Music would be a great, healthier way to channel the urges he can't act on. And I can see Murdoc agreeing. Admitting that he's been playing in bands for years, because it's actually a great cover for a vampire lifestyle. Being nocturnal is practically a prerequisite, when you're a rock star, and you can get away with looking all kinds of weird when you're in a band, because people just chalk it up to the aesthetic. Still, until he met 2-D, none of the bands he'd been in were actually any GOOD. 2-D reawakens his love of music, the same way he is the turning point for Murdoc's career in the canon.

Vampirism would also be a great way to explore Stuart's flaws. His vanity is an obvious one, but I can also see him avoiding his family and not letting them know why he'd disappeared for years. Just too self-absorbed to appreciate the harm it's caused. I can also see the pill problem happening as he imitates Murdoc's habit of abusing substances to try and blunt his bloodlust. I can imagine him saying stupid stuff like "you never even took me to the hospital!" and convincing himself he experiences phantom headaches, because he doesn't want to admit he's becoming just like Murdoc, actually. He tells himself the pills are medicine and he really needs them, and it's not the same at all.

And I can see him getting too carried away with his lusts, and having several near misses or disastrous incidents where he brings girls home and loses control of himself. Where Murdoc jumps in and saves it from getting too out of hand, but at the same time exposes how he's basically been stalking Stu "for your own protection", with a side of decidedly voyeuristic intentions. Stu has . . . strong (and somewhat confused) feelings about this.

I think Murdoc would be the same trouble magnet in the vampire underworld that he was in the criminal one. Feelings about Murdoc range from "this unwashed oik should NEVER have been allowed to become one of us" to "I WILL STAKE MURDOC FAUST NICCALS IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO". Murdoc would definitely continue his streak of petty crime any time he entered the hallowed halls of the vampire hoi poloi. He'd be pilfering left and right. And I can't imagine he'd ever kowtow to the aristocracy, which, in a subculture as obsessed with class as vampires . . .  yeah, he's insolent, to say the least. And they hate it. They just hate Murdoc, generally. I imagine 2-D might consider crossing over to the dark side to join them, to spite Murdoc, before eventually he realizes that - amazing as it sounds - even Murdoc has higher moral standards than these people. Maybe he's better off with the devil he knows.

I love what you said about Murdoc and Stuart being hung by the same rope, for all eternity. That's exactly the dynamic I think a vampire AU would bring about. I also think Murdoc being Stu's vampire sire would be interesting in the romantic sense, as part of them would always second guess if that was the reason for the bond they feel. Are they developing feelings, or is all of this just the blood bond? I can imagine Stuart hating his own inability to judge why he feels so drawn to Murdoc, and I can see Murdoc trying to convince himself any possessiveness or pride or protectiveness he feels over Stu is just what all vampires feel when they turn someone. (Even though it's not.) It would be a potent brew.

Anyway, this was long but I will never have the time to actually write this (I have five WIPs in other fandoms already) so I thought I'd let it out somehow. Thanks for giving me the space to talk this over!

(If anyone wants to run with this and make something of it, by the way, have at it! Just credit me somewhere for the idea. That'd be good.)

This was quite a ride! I love the idea of Stuart Pot's mortal life ending when he's mowed down in a Tesco car park buying condoms and Tango. It's cruel to say it's what he deserves and frankly the complete antithesis of the whole conflict I'm begging for, but... it's what he deserves. I'm also very intrigued by the angle of treating bloodlust as an addiction: it could theoretically be overcome, but practically speaking, rarely is. This makes it easy to see how Murdoc spins off into such a cartoonishly extreme life of debauchery. I love the bit about Murdoc changing his story of what happened, both the night he hit Stuart and his own origin-- the difference being that Stu does know what happened to him, whether he ever chooses to believe Murdoc's ever-shifting justifications for it or not, but no one can ever really know where Murdoc came from except himself. I definitely agree that the truth has to be less glamorous, less thrilling, less worthy of tales and legends. I like Stuart and Murdoc best when they are not men born into greatness nor men born for greatness, not inherently, and I love the private grappling with the belief that they are special and the fear that they probably aren't. Your explanation of the foil-like dynamic between vampires and spirits/ghosts is interesting, I don't know if that's an established piece of vampire lore or if that's your own invention, but I think it's a really solid one. I don't know if I've truly seen those two creatures explored in a world together with such a direct emphasis on that ghoulish ecosystem, so to speak.

And, well, I'm quite predictable but I'm ready to invest $5k in a full novel exploring Stu's estrangement from his family and friends following the transformation, the psychological toll it takes to choose-- though he may feel he has no other choice at all-- to abandon those relationships, how his own descent may mirror Murdoc's as he shelters himself in chalk-tablet excess and a vibrant, at times frightful carnal life to distract himself from the guilt. I'm dying to see how he could approach mending those fences again after years away. It isn't something one sweeps under the rug, isn't something that he can make amends for. This sort of thing shatters a family, and in my imagining of Rachel and David, it certainly shattered his. This kind of permanently-marred family drama really captivates me and is something I don't think we should shy away from in stories about addiction, and it would be fascinating to explore the human element of that against the metaphorical monstrous one.

I love what you mentioned about the "blood bond" and how it factors into the pull between them they're too unsettled to really name. This adds an extra layer of confusion, as you say, and better justifies why they find themselves orbiting each other, pretending there's a blood-coloured chain tethering them and ignoring the heavy weighted padlock in the middle that pulls them down, down, down. I've spoken a lot on this blog about why Stu is participatory in the relationship when he dislikes Murdoc in such a profound way, and while I absolutely never tire of the messy, bleak human weakness and ego of that, it would be quite special to explore that with something that almost feels like an excuse for Stu, a macabre justification entirely out of his hands; it gives him permission to be part of this broken spiral and absolves him of the responsibility of acknowledging his choice. I'd like to think he still lives with it, as Murdoc does too, but they may appreciate the safety of the smokescreen as much as they struggle to see through it.

Thanks for sending me your ideas, I hope other readers will enjoy seeing your elaborations, and if you're having fun thinking about these two goons I'd encourage you to consider making a blog. Sometimes you get lucky and draw in people who are incredibly kind!

(Lastly, unrelated fun fact about vampirism in my life: my first job was playing a vampire at a haunted amusement park. Our "Scare Zone" was designed as a junkyard taken over by a vampire gang, and I was the "queen" with a throne made of old tires. It was... a fun job and also not a fun job, haha.)

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Tour Mom: Chapter 1

Quick A/N: I write fanfic on Wattpad pretty frequently, but I’ve decided to start it on Tumblr too. This page will primarily be MCR fanfic, which I’ve actually never written before so, we’ll see how this goes. Also, this fic takes place during the Black Parade era.

Warnings: None, except swearing if that counts.

Premise of series: fem!Reader x Gerard, basically following the relationship. But it’s a lot like the MCR x fem!Reader.

Word count: 1799

Gerard Way. Front man of the iconic 2000s rock band, My Chemical Romance. Known by many as one of the creators of the new era of rock, consisting of emo and punk themes. Having a unique voice with even uniquer songs and sounds paved the path for him to become a household names, in homes who had good taste in music. To you, he was your best friend of going on a decade, and boyfriend for half of those years.

Mikey Way. Bassist and shy guy within the band. Until you got to know him, then he became a chatter box. He could go on for hours and hours about whatever he thought of. His thoughts were basic, yet some were intriguing and could actually spark a decent conversation. Also, he was basically your brother. Your relationship with Gerard only grew that bond.

Ray Toro. Lead guitarist and the soft, nice guy of the band. Also, your best friend while touring. Ray was one of the kindest people you had ever met, he would give up all he had for the people he cared about. His hair was also great, which automatically made his better. He was, to be honest, the only other completely stable and mature individual beside you, and even then sometimes none of you could act like the civil adults you legally were. You and he would also secretly watch Food Network together.

Frank Iero. The absolute most chaotic, most childish, and most loveable individual. Guitarist for MCR, you and Frank got along very well. Usually he was busy eating something or making some dark jokes, either way he used his time in the most Frank way possible. He was secretly one of the sweetest people alive and breathing, always being able to lighten up someone’s day when it was needed most.

And then there was you. And Bob, but he was kinda irrelevant to be honest. He just kinda stayed in his lane, and you and him got along just fine. But back to you. You were technically not apart of the band, but behind the scenes you basically were. Most notably, you were Gerard’s girlfriend. But you were also the one that managed to keep the boys in line when you were away from home. You had to remind these full grown men to shower daily, to eat three meals, and to continue working on songs and not just sit and watch movies or TV all day. Without you, the tour would have been a mess behind the scenes.

“Mikey!” You called from the living room of the cramped bus.

“Yeah?” He called back from his bunk bed.

“Have you showered today?” You inquired. There was a pause which is all you needed to come to a conclusion. You sighed, “Go take a shower Mikey.” He lightly groaned, reluctantly rolling out from the mattress and walking to the even more cramped bathroom.

“Fine.” He grabbed a towel and new clothes, walking in and locking the door. Frank walked by, mouthing you a ‘thank you’. He was always big on hygiene, so were you, and so anytime you knew one of the boys had gone even a few hours past daily showering, you directed them to clean up. And they always did, reluctantly usually.

You were casually reading a book on the couch when Ray sat next to you, turning on the TV. So of course, you joined him. About 15 minutes later, after investing in one of the various cable channels you could find, you looked up to see Gerard staring you two down.

Initially, he was extremely jealous of the relationship you and Ray had. He was worried that you and Ray were more than just friends, which of course you weren’t. But, you and he had reassured your boyfriend that it was no more than just a close friendship. “Are you jealous again, Gee?” You pouted, almost making fun of him. Ray smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not jealous as much as I am worried.” Gerard now came up to you two, sitting on the arm of the couch next to you.

“Worried about what?” You looked up at him.

“That you two will run off into the sunset or some fucking fairytale shit like that.” Now it was time for you to roll your eyes.

“You’re very melodramatic sometimes, Gerard.” You told him, “We’ve been dating for five years and you still have suspicion that I’m going to run off with one of your friends.” Gerard was always extremely laid back. That was unless it was on the topic of you. Then he was protective and extremely alert. 

You two were both very independent people, and your relationship reflected that. You two were never touchy feely, or too close, or too protective. Your romance  functioned much like a friendship, which you both preferred. “You know I’ll always love you, Gee. And only you.” You lightly smiled up at him, and he sighed giving in.

“I love you too.” He got up, walking back to his bunk where you knew he would probably work on some more sketched for the various comic works he had going.

Mikey finally reemerged from his shower in new clothes, heading to the small mini fridge and grabbing some carrots. “You eat all the damn food Mikey,” Frank complained from his bunk.

“I’m hungry.” He whined, taking a bite from one of the mini orange ones.

“I wish I had Mikey’s metabolism,” You began, “Eat whatever the hell you want and not gain an ounce.” “I know right,” Ray added on, “That would be nice.”

“What’re we talking about?” Gerard shouted from his bed.

“Mikey’s metabolism. And him stealing all the food.” Frank replied.

“Oh yeah, Mikey does have a great metabolism.”

“Speaking of, what do you guys want for dinner?” You asked, “I’m texting Brian right now.” Brian, as in the manager of course.

“Burgers.” Mikey and Gerard said at the same time. You looked at Ray for his opinion. “I’m good with that.” “So am I!” Frank called out.

“Me too.” Bob finally spoke up.

“So you’re not dead?” Frank responded, looking over to his bunk. You snorted.

“Alright, I’ll let him know so we can stop somewhere.” After shooting a quick text you got up heading to your own bunk to find yet another book, or graphic novel to read. Yours was right under Gerard’s, because that only made sense.

“What’cha doin?” Gerard poked his head down to see you. You rolled your eyes knowing he would pester you just to annoy you.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You smiled at him, grabbing one of the Watchmen comics Gerard had generously lead to you, after nearly forcing you to finally read it.

You and Gerard actually met in a comic book store, you working there when you two were in college. A friendship sparked out of that, and later evolved to a romance. He scoffed as if in offense, resorting back to his top bunk. “If you’re going to be aggressive then I just won’t even try.”

“I’m not being aggressive,” You told him, “I’m being honest.” You could practically hear the eye roll from your boyfriend.

“Hey Mikey,” He had the audacity to bring his brother into it, “Am I a pain the the ass?” “Absolutely.” It took the man less than a second to answer, as if waiting to tell him, which let’s be honest, he probably was. You couldn’t help but give a soft chuckle, then giving a high five to Mikey as he walked past you to his own bed.

“Alright, the diner we’re stopping at is in about two hours you guys.” You said out loud, reading from the text Brian had sent you just a moment ago.

So for about an hour you all stayed relatively silent, shocking for all of you, except Bob. And sometimes Mikey, depending on his mood really. But for awhile you occasionally heard huffs and groans from above you. “Hey Gee?” You asked.

“Hm?” He responded.

“What’re you working on?” You heard him sigh.

“Concepts.” “Yeah, but what sort of concepts?”

“Just for a new comic.” “Lemme see.” You rose your hand up to take it, which he handed to you.

“These look great.” You complimented, skimming your fingers over the bright array of colors on his paper. “What’s the idea?” You asked.

“I’m thinking of the groups being called the Killjoys,” He began, going into a long shortened explanation.

“I love it.” You said and handed it back to him, “I think it’ll go a long way.” “Thanks.” He said and presumably continued.

Another hour of reading and light conversation passed before you finally reached one of the various road side diners you all ate at. Brian had ordered ahead, so everyone just ran in to grab their order, him of course paying. No time could be wasted on the road.

So there, the six of you sat on the couches in the tightly cramped bus, eating out of plastic containers. Gerard reached over, ripping off a piece of one of your chicken tenders, and dunking it in the ranch you got. You immediately fought back taking a bite of his burger and placing it right back.

“I can’t fucking wail ‘till we’re in a hotel.” Frank said out of the blue. Everyone nodded and hummed agreeing, too busy with their food to talk back.

“When’re we in one next?” You asked. It was rare when you were ever in one, and usually after extended periods of time and when shows were spaced out longer than one to two days you got that luxury.

“4 shows, so 6 days.”

“Finally.” Mikey almost murmured.

“Now Gerard can fuck Y/N senseless in peace and quiet.” Franks smirked. You chocked on your food as Gerard confidently nodded.

“Hell yeah.” You slapped his arm.

“Don’t deny it Y/N,” Frank said again, “It’s bound to happen.” You rolled your eyes.

“You’re absurd.” You got up to throw away your now empty food container, going to wash your hands briefly, and climbing in bed as the guys cleaned up their own food.

It was already late, and despite the even later curfews everyone had, most of the last hours of the night were all spent in your personal cubbies doing whatever you all pleased.

“Goodnight, babe.” You heard Gerard above you.

“Night, Gee.” You smiled.

“Goodnight, baby.” You heard Frank yell from his own cubby which prompted a lot of soft chuckling and laughter.

“Love you too, Frank.” You responded.

“Not even an ‘I love you’ to your actual boyfriend?” Gerard poked his head down. You rolled your eyes, giving him a peck on the lips despite how his face was upside down.

“I love you.”

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 4: If Love is a Drug

She is back! And better than ever.....

Not really, sorry it’s been radio silence/lurking, she’s had something of a depressive episode recently, but she’s getting back on her feet. So yea, I don’t want to promise anything, but I’ll try to post more.

And finally get a masterlist at some point with this series, for goodness’ sake.

So yea. 

When should I stop crediting @casafrass for this? I feel like it’s getting annoying, but it’s only fair. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

Headcanons: Based off of this one, though like, not really, just the general vomit theme. 

Words: 3,951 (woop, she’s a long one, get ready for some TEA)

Pairings: Honestly, just let me know if you would like me to put some pairings in here, because most of all of the ones that I’ve written, you can read it either way, so please, just let me know! 

Warnings: Vomit, drugs, pills, violence, swearing

“So I understand that at one point you talk about a conversation that you had with Judy Garland.” 

“Yes, she and I met, actually I don’t remember where, but it was one of those random ‘high society’ parties, and we struck up a sort of conversation. I think we found each other’s stories interesting, because, as women in the entertainment industry, even across film and music, there were some startling similarities.” 

“Would you care to expand on those similarities a little?” 

“I mean, besides the fact that so much of the focus is on our bodies, which we’ve already discussed, the zeitgeist of the time seemed to be that women simply weren’t ready to handle all of the pressures that that sort of system put on us. Of course, this meant drugs, particularly amphetamines, which were quite vogue in the US at the time. Judy and I were both familiar with that sort of concept, however, the difference lied in that Judy chose to go on amphetamines, and I was given them.” 

“Given them by...?” 

“EMI, mostly, but everyone, including me, was complicit in a way. Though, it did slip more into self-regulation in the Beatles’ later years, and I even fully recovered by my solo career. But yea, especially in the earlier ones, during our massive concert tours, a lot of it was... very strong suggestions.”

“You were known for being very strong-willed, though.” 

“Yeah, but y’know, it’s my career. I guess at the time, even if EMI had let me go, I could’ve gone somewhere else on the name alone, but I was young, stupid, and scared of non-existent threats, so I really did put up with it for quite long.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She hasn’t come out of that room since last night.” 

“It’s called sleeping, Rings.”

“It’s past noon! She came straight up here after dinner last night.” 

“And she locked the door.” 

“Very suspicious.” 

“You think we could get Mal to break it down?” 

“What if there’s a guy in there?”

“Then we’ve got to break it down.” 

“She’s an adult!” 

“What if she’s DEAD?” 

“Someone get Mal.” 

Your eyes fluttered open. With friends like these, who needs an alarm clock? 

Through blurry eyes, you could read the actual alarm clock: 3:17. 

Everything was alright for about 20 seconds, and then all of the crappy feelings had re-settled into your wakened state. Your legs felt like they were filled with cement, your nose was congested, your hands were clammy, you were extremely sweaty even though it was absolutely freezing, and you were stilled tired, even though you had gone to bed at 7:30 last night. 

You sauntered over to the door, pulling on a pair of sweat pants over your bare legs. 

You pressed your sweaty fingers down on the cool lock and pulled it open. 

“Do not! Call Mal! I am here.” Four blank faces gawked back at you, all far more spritely than you cared to admit that you weren’t. The suits were on as well. 

“Is that what you look like without makeup?” John quipped in mock-surprise. He knew damn well what you looked like without makeup, he just couldn’t give up a chance to be his sarcastic asshat self. You sighed.

“Not now, please, John.” The light in the main suite was too bright, so you pushed your head into the doorway and closed your eyes. You wanted to sit down again. 

“(y/n), love, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it is 3:30, and you’ve got to get your act together at some point.” You couldn’t see his face, but you knew that was Ringo.

“I know what time it is, I’m just... eurgh,” You didn’t bother opening your eyes, “This shit is exhausting.” 

“We can’t can-” 

“I know, I know,” you interrupted Paul, “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.” 

- time skip brought to you by I am very tired - 

“(y/n), do you want me to carry that?” George appeared at your side, holding his hand out near yours, grabbing at the guitar case. 

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You chuckled weakly. 

“Your playing was off. You missed a few chords. You didn’t smile as much, and your voice was weaker. I can tell.” 

“Rough night is all. Remember, we can’t cancel even if I am sick. But I’m fine.” Your grip on the guitar case loosened unconsciously as your arm felt weaker. 

“Sure.” George swung his hand in and grasped at the handle of your case, before taking it in his own. You sighed, but still didn’t feel like answering. 

“What a gentleman you are, Georgie.” John ruffled his hair with his free hand. 

A pattering of very angered footsteps approached behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. Only one man could angrily footstep like that.

“What the hell was that, (y/n)?” Brian spun you around to look at him. Though you could tell that there was some softness in his eyes, and that he was perhaps worried just as much for you as for your reputation, he was still fuming. 

“Whaddya mean?” You fumbled out. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice. You were out of it tonight. Well? What was it? Weed? Cocaine? Alcohol? All of them?!”

“Scout’s honor, Brian, it was just a weird night.” Brian’s grip loosened on your shoulders, as he facepalmed. He looked back up at you sympathetically.

“You’re a little pale, (y/n), perhaps you should take an early night.” You peered over your shoulder, only to catch the lads instantly trying to pretend like they weren’t listening in on your conversation. You were going to go to a very fancy club tonight, and you had been looking for a chance to dress up. You looked back at Brian, who was almost sweating. Anything to ease his worry. 

“Alright, just this night. Even though I swear I’m fine.” 

“Right, right. Why don’t you head back with the equipment, and I’ll head out with the boys?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” You sighed and could feel your eyes droop. You trudged back to the black van and hauled yourself in the back, giving a small wave to Mal in the mirror. He nods understandingly. You shut the van doors. 

“Where’s she goin’?” You hear John bug Brian like a petulant child.

“Back to the hotel, I think.” 

“Killjoy.” Paul muttered.

George just watched the van leave over Ringo’s shoulder, whom he was deeply in conversation with. 

- time skip - 

It happened again. You had fucked up again. You’d missed some of your chords, your voice had cracked at one point, and not in the hot way, and your energy on stage was no longer a bubbly bounce, but a gentle, almost sleepy, swaying. 

Your fuck-up only really hit you after, though, as you had zoned out while you were on stage. 

You couldn’t go out to face the boys. You just couldn’t. You sat in your locked dressing room, head in your hands, as you stared at your knees trying not to pass out. Everything was blurry. 

You were awakened from your thoughts by a loud thumping. You could feel your stomach drop. It was an angry knock. Why did men always have to be so angry? 

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there.” It was John. Of course it was John. It was always John. He never knew when to stop. 

You leaned back in your chair, dazed, knowing full well that you didn’t have to let him in if you didn’t want to. You shakily pulled a cigarette out of a pack on the table and it it with your delicately engraved lighter while the pounding continued. He would die out there if he had to. 

“Whaddya want?” You blew a plume of smoke and coughed.

“Why are women always so dramatic? Just let me in, damnit!” 

“Not if you don’t stop acting like a petulant goddamn child!”

“Call me a child, will you? I’m not the one who can’t handle every goddamn concert. What? Are you too tired? Awww, I’m sorry. Do you need a nap?” 

You could feel your eyes brim with tears. You put out the cigarette, grabbed your bag, and opened the window. The wind blew in your face, and it was almost calming. Using the gymnastics skills that you had honed as a kid, you slunk out the window and onto the open street, your heels clacking on the pavement. You pulled a coat over your face and called a taxi, only offering cash but making sure to keep your looks relatively obscured. Back to the hotel, where you could sleep it all off.

- Time skip - 

You slept for 20 hours, and yet, you still woke up feeling all the worse. The clock read 4:00. You were about to be late for call. There was no shuffling outside, so you could assume that the lads had already left. Awesome. 

You fixed your hair, grabbed your guitar, called a limo, and added small touches of makeup on the ride there. You could barely feel anything anymore, and your body had gone completely numb. You chunked on foundation way more than usual as to hide the cold sweat and incredible paleness that your face had broken out in. Some of the powder drifted over your lips, and you felt a welling of stomach acid churn. 

You swallowed, took a deep breath, and your stomach calmed down once more. You were backstage. 

You thanked the cab driver before slipping through the back door, barely being able to make it open. The first thing you met was Brian having a panic attack, which actually made sense for once, as there was about 15 minutes until you were on stage. 

“(Y/n)! Where the bloody hell were you?!” The rest of the lads were behind him, speaking and looking at you like some high school girl’s clique. You shot them an angry, but weak, stare.

“No one woke me up.” 

“You look like death.” Paul piped up from the back.

“You’ll meet death very fuckin’ soon-” You had no time for any of the sass anymore, but a hand clamping on your shoulder cut you off. You looked up to your left, and were greeted by the face of Neil Aspinall. 

“That’s enough of that, (y/n), we have something to do.” He didn’t wait for your answer, but simply lead you backstage. You were far too dazed to resist, so you simply let him steer. 

“So, the company, not me, heard that you haven’t exactly been on your A-game lately, and they recommended something.” You nodded, still not listening.

“Apparently, a lot of rockstars use it, they heard about it from the manager of the Animals or something, so I thought we could give it a try. It’s supposed to help you get that burst of energy that you need.” He patted your shoulder joyfully.

“Now, this is all of the company’s doing, so, if you don’t want to take them, then I completely understand, and I’ll just tell them that you did, but I am supposed to mention them.” Neil’s voice drifted off. In front of you was a table with several small white pills and a glass of water. 

“No. I’ll take it. We gotta a show to do.” You were sure that Neil said something, but you didn’t hear, as you were too busy downing the pills and the water in one determined gulp. 

- Time skip - 

That night was the most energetic that you had been. Almost too energetic. Your eyes were shot and pink, though fortunately all of the audience was too far away to notice. Your playing was erratic and very harsh, though the screaming was too loud to hear. Your vocals, well, those would not be matched until some actual crackheads took the stage later. 

None of your actions felt deliberate, everything felt at the whim of the surges of energy jolting through your body, while your actual mind just felt more and more disconnected, and your stomach churned. The lights gave you a pulshing headache. 

Three-quaraters through the show, you began to come back to Earth again, though not because the drugs were wearing off, but because something else was beginning to emerge. You could feel it. The wave rising up in your stomach. You swallowed. You shouted the lyrics into the microphone. You put your all into the song, even though you no longer felt the energy. You were not going to mess up on stage again. 

Paul gave you some side-eye. Though the fans were absolutely eating up, he wasn’t buying your shtick. 

Finally, you made it to the last number. The crowd screamed. Your heart pounded in your chest. You were sweating like crazy, and your hair was sticking to your face. Your legs felt wobbly, but you thew a hand up and waved goodbye to the crowd, as well as to any sense of calm in your stomach. 

As you shambled off stage, Ringo scrambled up behind you and put an arm around your shoulder, steadying you. Oh god, even he knew and he couldn’t see your face. Your guitar was slung around your shoulder, but you forgot that it existed, and slammed it into a poor stagehand. 

With your last sense of control left, you removed our guitar the minute that you got off stage and handed it to said stagehand, who was highly confused, while you grabbed the nearest trashcan and heaved your entire stomach into it. Mind you, since you had slept for the last day, there were hardly contents to begin with, just raw stomach acid.

Your throat burned, you sweat, and your eyes wanted to do nothing but close. You could feel gentle hands pulling your hair back, while startled screams and yells rose up backstage. You didn’t care. You had fallen to your knees, taking the trashcan with you, still completely retching your stomach into anything that would take it. 

“What the hell did you do ta her?”

“It wasn’t me, it was that stuff that EMI sent over?” 

“What stuff?”

“I don’t know, pills, something!”

“You gave her pills? She’s clearly had the fucking flu, on top of dealing with your ridiculous schedule. 

“I just did what they told me to do!”

“Brian! I want you to end the contract with EMI right now.” 

“John, you don’t mean that, sit down.”

“I second.” 

“Paul, John, why don’t we all just-”

“No! If this is how they choose to treat people, to treat (y/n), then I don’t want anything to do with them. Look at what you’ve done to her!

“What I’ve done?! This is not just me, and you know it.”

“I never said give her fucking pills!” 

“You never say anything, you just yell!” 

“Mal, can you call an ambulance?”

“Already done, Georgie.” 

The vomit stopped, and you lifted your head up, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. Ringo’s hands gently fell from your hair. 

“No, no ambulance, I’m fine.” Your voice was so raspy, like your throat had been torn out. 

John, Paul, Brian, and Neil froze in the middle of their argument while George and Mal cocked their heads to look at you from the side. John only stayed quiet for a second.

“You’re not fine, you’re on fucking drugs!” He lurched forward, approaching you. You could feel your stomach quell again. You swallowed. 

“Any drug that I was on,” you breathed deeply, “is in there.” You pointed to the trashcan. 

“You’re being ridiculous, I-” 

“No! Fuck you! You don’t get to say shit!” that come out far louder than you expected. You stood at your full height, willing to handle the discomfort if it meant telling him off. You’d even surprised John/

“How the fuck can you pretend like I’m the one acting ridiculous right now considering all the shit that you said to me yesterday? How far does your fucking double standard go? Of all the sins you’ve committed, John Lennon, I never thought that hypocrisy would be one of them. Get a grip, goddamnit! This is just as much your fault as it is mine, and I know you know that, so look me in the eye and for a goddamn second confront the consequences of your actions!” You were breathing very heavily now, whether with anger or exhaustion, and you could feel a surge of energy come through you yet again, though this time you weren’t sure if it was the drug.

You lunged at John, aiming your fist at his face. Everyone suddenly shifted into action all of a sudden, with George and Ringo holding you back and Paul pulling John away, though you noted that Paul refused to look John in the eye. 

“Woah, woah, (y/n), take it easy. Calm down. It’s alright, it’s alright.” You could hear George softly try to calm you, though your heavy breathing continued, and at some point along the way, you ended up crying into his shoulder as Ringo patted your back. 

“Come on, you’ve done enough.” You heard footsteps shuffle away, followed shortly after by another pair, leaving you, George, Ringo, and a very awkward Mal.

You cried until there were no tears left to cry. Your legs got tired from standing at some point, so you simply sat down, with George and Ringo joining you as Mal left to explain to the ambulance that they wouldn’t be needing their services today. 

You swallowed, and you could feel the tears begin to stick to your cheeks.

“We should probably go back to the hotel.” You leaned against George’s shoulder pensively.

“If you’re up to it, Birdie.” 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

You stood up weakly as Ringo wrapped his jacket around you. The three of you returned to the hotel without another word.

- Time skip -

You, George, and Ringo, slowly creaked open the door to your shared massive suite. Paul sat in the middle of the room, a beam of moonlight illuminating his face, legs crossed, just as he was waiting for you. John was nowhere to be seen.

“There you are!” he said in a stage whisper, “I was worried sick!” He rose from his chair and approached your trio. 

Before you could even anticipate what he was doing and protest, he wrapped you in a very warm hug. He was always good at those. He held you like he was afraid to lose you, and you used what strength you had left to return it with all your might, as if you were afraid to lose him. The two of you stayed like that for a minute, without words, before he separated. 

“You best get some sleep. All of you.” His eyes traveled to George and Ringo, and it was clear that there was no more room for negotiation.

The three of you gently drifted into your rooms with Paul watching you all leave. The minute your face touched your pillow, you fell into a dreamless sleep. 

- Time skip -

God only knows how long you had slept, but the growling of your stomach woke you up next morning. You felt a lot better, at least, and the mothering of Paul, making sure that you ate and drank enough, and that you didn’t need anything, made sure that you were gradually on your way to some form of recovery. 

Paul, as you had learned, was originally the one who had postulated that you had some form of the flu, and the symptoms proved his predictions correct. Thankfully, he was well equipped to care for people with the flu, having done so for his family growing up, so he knew all of the common remedies. 

John was still nowhere to be found, but George and Ringo emerged from their rooms one by one, and the four of you lazed around, reading papers and watching the news, for the rest of the morning. 

When you finally asked where John was, Paul answered that he had gotten up early and gone for a walk. Pretty long walk, you guessed, but didn’t pry. 

At noon, there was a gentle knock on the door. Paul admitted a very sheepish looking Brian into the suite. He approached the table. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You took a long sip of water.

“I’m alright, better than yesterday.” 

“That’s good.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck. There were other things on his mind. 

“Um, I wanted to apologize, on behalf of me, and Neil, who is speaking to the company at this point, he’s trying to-” 

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, pausing to gather your thoughts, “No, really, it is. You didn’t know, and neither did I, and neither did Neil. And I’m alive. Now we just know not to do it again.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you shifted in our seat to grab the tea pot, though Brian shook his head, “No, no, I must be going, we’re traveling again today. But, enjoy your tea, and I’ll see you in a few.” 

You nodded sagely. Brian began to take his leave, but halfway through the door, he turned around to look at the solemn crowd.

“You know, you all really do mean a lot to me. I promise you that. Not as clients, but people. This will not happen again.” And with that, he left.

- Time skip (last one, we’re almost done folks) - 

“I’ll take that.” John grabbed the large box off your hands, and you squeaked with surprise. His face twisted into an unfamiliar expression of damaged concern almost instantly.

“Oh, sorry, I just didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Yeah, I was on a walk this morning.” He continued to struggle with the box. You’d finally had enough of it, and leaned in to help him haul it to the top of the shelf in the crate. 

The two of you stood there awkwardly, both refusing to look the other in the eye.

“I-”

“You-”

You both began speaking at the same time, interrupting eachother. 

“You go first. “ He offered.

“No, no, I’ve said enough.” You waved your hands defensively.

“So have I.” He chuckled. 

Another awkward silence. 

“I guess,” he began, “I’m sorry for saying that shit to you. I was stressed, angry, and I know that’s not an excuse, but then you got on the drugs, and I was so worried, and I guess I just never realized...” he trailed off, realizing that he was just on the verge of not making sense. He took a deep breath. 

“I guess, what I”m trying to say is that I would never, ever, want you to do what you had to do there. It wasn’t fair of me to put that kind of pressure on you, and everyone else. And, you didn’t hear it from me, but I’ll try to do better.” 

You chuckled lightly. 

“That sounds like a plan. And, I guess I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do. I just let you get worried about me, stupidly thinking that I could handle it all by myself, and I just totally forgot about everyone else. It’s kind of ironic that I, uh, snapped at you about how  your actions affect others, when I did the same exact thing. So, uh, I’ll work on that too.”

You swore you could see the smallest bit of a smile on his face. The first one in a while.

“Well then,” he thrust out his hand, “let’s make that a deal. Mutual forgiveness, and hopefully, mutual progress”

You took his warm hand in yours.

“You got it, John.”

[mychemicalficrecs]

do you have any longer frikey fics, preferably bottom frank if theres smut

I do have some longer Frank/Mikey stuff, but no guarantee on bottom Frank!

Longer Frank/Mikey

Emotional Brilliance by kopperblaze, 21k, Mature. Toro and Mikey are a good team, Mikey doesn’t get why Brian had to hire someone else. In particular he doesn’t get why Brian had to hire Frank, who knows nothing about Lush products and who's incapable of keeping his mouth shut. Lush!AU. The one where Ray is a skin care expert, Frank is obnoxious, Mikey is annoyed and Pete leaves glittery handprints all over everything.

Gross roomies by turps, 36k, Explicit. Frank loves living with Mikey. Sure, the apartment is a mess, the kitchen's a toxic wasteland, and there's something growing in the refrigerator that's just a day or two away from becoming sentient, but other than those minor inconveniences, it's all cool. Or it is until Mikey decides to embark on a journey of sexual discovery and adventure and Frank's left at home with nothing but the fridge monster for company. To make matters worse, Mikey insists on telling Frank everything he does with his new kinky friends, right down to the tiniest detail. And now suddenly Frank is best friends with his right hand and he can't stop thinking about Mikey in ways he never has before. The really big problem, other than suddenly being in lust with his best friend, is that Frank isn't sure why.

Won't Know 'til You Begin by knight_tracer, Sena, 24k, Explicit. In which Frank is an accidental pervert, Mikey sleeps with Fabio, Gerard is much too sincere when talking about pain sluts, Ray is terrible with women and great with guitars, and Otter's got really bad taste in music. Alternately, the one where Frank realizes he has a thing for Mikey, Mikey realizes he has a thing for guys, and they're both adorably stupid failboats.

On Air by ladyfoxxx, 15k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank's a radio DJ at an alternative station, spinning punk tracks and talking shit. When he gets handed the most popular show at the station to host, his first guests are independent horror filmmakers Gerard and Mikey Way.

Standing on a Planet that's Evolving and Revolving by Green, 13k, Explicit. The evolution of Frank Iero, age 15.

Buenas Noches From A Lonely Room by Femme (femmequixotic), 15k, Explicit. Frank wants to touch Mikey, to slide his fingers across the sharp angle of his cheek just below his glasses, to drag his thumb along the curve of his bottom lip, to smooth his palm down Mikey's long throat.

What Dreams May Come by sperrywink, 15k, Explicit. His career in music derailed, Frank never met the other guys in My Chemical Romance. A silly tale of teleportation.

a scent and a sound by mwestbelle, 15k, Explicit. In an urban fantasy world where werewolves can't hold a decent job and no roommate wants them, werewolf Frank is looking for an apartment. He finds one with Mikey Way.

Heart Wrapped in Clover by Sena, 19k, Explicit. Everbody's got their not-so-secret secrets on tour. When you live out of a van, you just can't help but notice things that you shouldn't talk about if you don't want to embarrass your friends or start a fight. Frank wishes sometimes they talked about things, though, because he's dying to ask if anybody else has noticed that sometimes, Mikey wears panties.

Tints Verse by turps, 65k, Mature. A MCR AU where Ray has his own gardening firm, and one day he does a job for the Ways.

We Used To Be Friends by ladyfoxxx, 50k, Explicit. "You and me, right Mikes?" "Yeah, fuck everybody else." Best friends since high school, if Frank could've chosen a brother, he'd pick Mikey. Then Mikey became a rock star and Frank... didn't. After years of radio silence, Mikey steps onto a stage in Jersey and back into Frank's life. (Or, the one where Frank is a school teacher and Mikey plays rhythm in The Used.)

And the Painted Ponies by turps, 35k, Mature. After years of struggling to be taken seriously as a bodyguard, Frank Iero is finally well established. He loves his boss, Ray, he loves his job, and he prides himself on his professionalism. But then he's assigned to be the personal bodyguard of Mikey Way. Mikey Way, aka Roboboy, is a successful high fashion model. Loved by designers and the public alike for his trademark lack of emotion, but mocked by the tabloid press for the exact same reason. Mikey is someone that Frank's sure he'll hate. Except it doesn't work out that way. In fact, it doesn't take long before Frank discovers he really likes Mikey. Maybe too much.

Better Than A Paid Life by gala_apples, 15k, Explicit. Gerard and Mikey Way are the Killjoys, a motorbaby duo. That is, until their car gets wrecked in a battle and the dashboard accessory of their new Trans Am is an ex-Companion with a mission.

Crash by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd), 26k, Explicit. In a future version of Seattle, Frank Iero's a lot of things: bike messenger, cage fighter, sometimes thief, Ray Toro's roommate. Mikey Way's also a lot of things: record label owner, co-heir to his grandmother's fortune, younger brother. Neither are normal. But they don't know just how far each other's abnormalities go until Frank's past and a secret of Mikey's unexpectedly shove together. (Dark Angel AU.)

Sound Tracking by turps, 46k, Mature. The beat is muted, almost non-existent, and the loss hits Bob hard. He's used to living his life in a constant thrum of sound, sensing those around him, the rhythm of the universe a constant companion, but here there's almost nothing. He can feel the sound that's been pulling him for weeks now, but little else. This place is dead, almost silent, and Bob aches with the feeling of being cast into nothingness. A MCR - Bob and Gerard centric space AU where Gerard's band has been taken from him and Bob helps find them. Also features FOB, especially Pete.

Drink Cider From a Lemon by turps, 20k, General Audiences. A story about friendship, love and building your own kind of home.

Mikey Way and the Quest for the Stone by Roxy_palace, 29k, Explicit. “I’m in Colombia!” Mikey said, raising his voice over the crackle of a poor connection. “No. no, no, no, no,” James wailed. Mikey could really relate to his disbelief. He couldn't believe he was in mother fucking Colombia either.

Below the Trees, Which Are Below the Stars by alpheratz, 38k, Explicit. In the mid-1920s, Gerard and Mikey moved to France - Gerard to pursue art, Mikey because he couldn't stay behind. Now, it's 1930, and Mikey's become an airmail pilot, flying the mail route to Dakar with his navigator Frank. For a long time, the only rough thing about Mikey's life was the strain on his and Gerard's soulbond when Mikey was away, but his growing feelings for Frank and the arrival of Frank's old friend Ray could change everything.

Food of Love by Lucifuge5, 12k, Teen And Up Audiences. Ever since it re-opened, Frank's been "Sweet Nothings"'s number one customer. That he harbors a gigantic crush on one of the owners is something that he's kept to himself for the most part (Ray will never tell a soul.) It's not until he strikes a friendship with the older brother of the object of his affection that he 'fesses up. Moved by Frank's pining, Gerard promises to help Frank woo Mikey. Complications arise when Gerard's "helpful advice" is anything but. Will Frank be successful in his courtship or are his chances to win Mikey's heart as ruined as a burnt cupcake?

You Only Hear The Music (When Your Heart Begins To Break) by Acadjonne, 28k, Mature. Mikey and Frank have known each other for years. They're roommates, and best friends. They're also friends with benefits. The arrangement is casual, and it suits them both. Somewhere along the way, Mikey develops feelings for Frank, but he pushes them aside. They aren't important, he'll be fine. Or, Mikey is fine, until he somehow ends up pregnant a year into this thing with Frank, and all of a sudden, he's got more to deal with than just how long he'll be able to hide his feelings for Frank or how the hell he's supposed to afford his transition.

Give Me A Reason To Believe (Failboats In Love) by Acadjonne, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. On the night of October 31st, Linda and Frank Iero welcome a baby boy into their family. He weighs six pounds, four ounces, and is nineteen inches long. They give him a family name, and he becomes the third Iero man to bear the name of Frank. A year later, on All Hallow's Eve, a sleeping baby is taken from his crib and replaced with a fake. The babe will later be taken from the hands of the goblin that stole him, and he will be raised by two rowan treefolk, a house brownie, and some pixies. ----- When Ray walks down the stairs to the Way family basement, the last thing Mikey expects to see is a scrappy and long-haired form following behind him. But as he later finds out, Frank is almost always unexpected in the best of ways, the rest of the world be damned.

Death's Muse by TheFratelliEffect, 53k [WIP], Mature. Lonely and depressed, Mikey Way is battling through the drab years that immediately follow college. Struggling to make a living as an artist, Mikey has became a battered down, quiet introvert whom wants nothing to do with the abusive romance he is unwillingly involved in. On a cold winter morning, the starving artist is confronted with the opportunity to paint Frank Iero, the Midnight Falls' elusive, young doctor, which he takes up immediately. Love and lust ensure as the story opens on the painter as he meets his muse.

Gallons Of The Stuff by MCRmyGeneral, 20k, Explicit. Frank has been amused by blood for as long as he can remember. When he was a child, it was a simple fascination; the way it felt on his hands, the way it looked dripping to the floor, the way it smelled. But as he grew older, that simple fascination morphed into a daring lust. Blood no longer amused him, now it turned him on. Frank has never intentionally hurt someone just to see their blood. He just takes what he can get whenever an accident happens. But when Mikey is hurt bad, Frank discovers how hard it is to keep his hands, and thoughts, to himself. He loves Mikey, he has for a long time. But now, he finds his silence so much harder to keep. He has two choices: either tell Mikey how he feels, about him and his blood, and risk scaring him away, or keep quiet, and never let the man know how much he means to him. Whatever he chooses, he knows that someone will get hurt.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #590: Unexpected Reunion (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

It was a normal, peaceful day in the Smash Mansion and Shadow and Hat Kid was about to watch a Halloween themed movie together. When suddenly.......

????: (Appears From Out of the Ground in a Shadow-ly Like Form) Herrrre's SNATCHER!

Hat Kid: ('Gasps')

('Click')

Shadow: (Immediately Pulls his Gun on the Figure)

Snatcher: Huh. A black, edgy hedgehog with a gun....(Turns his Head at the Viewers) That definitely wouldn't stir up any controversies in the long run.

Shadow: Enough talk. Who are you and what are you doing in this-

Hat Kid: Shadow!

Shadow: Hm? (Turns to Hat Kid) What's wrong, sister?

Hat Kid: (Whispers Something into Shadow's Ear)

Shadow: (Listening to Everything Hat Kid is Telling Him) Mhmm... Uh-huh....Wait....(Turns to Snatcher for a Few Seconds Before Turning Back to Hat Kid) You mean to tell that you know this clown?

Hat Kid: (Simply Nodded)

Shadow: And that he's one of your friends from that space trip of yours?

Hat Kid: (Nodded Once More)

Shadow: (Looks Back at Snatcher One More Time Before Turning Back to Hat Kid) Are you absolutely sure that he's not a threat?

Hat Kid: (Nodded Once More Before Giving Shadow the Puppy Dog Eyes)

Shadow: (Sighs in Defeat Before Putting his Gun Down) Fine. He can stay for a while....

Hat Kid: (Rapidly Clap her Hands Happily Before Hugging Shadow) Thank you!~

Shadow: (Gently Pats.the Top of Hat Kid's Head With a Small Smile on His Face) Yes. Yes. It's no problem.

'Ahem'

The duo finally turn their attention to Snatcher, who is crossing his arms impatiently.

Snatcher: Hate to ruin your little family moment or whatever, but you do know that I'm still here, right?

Hat Kid: (Happily Waves at Snatcher)

Shadow: (Puts on a Straight Face) We noticed. So I take it you're uhh...

Snatcher: Snatcher's the name, tormenting fools and their souls are my game! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Shadow: (Raised an Eyebrow in a Suspicious Manner) Really now?

Snatcher: (Place his Arms Behind the Back of His Head in a Relaxed Manner) Yeeeup. Been doing it for eternity now and it never gets old. Judging by your edgy appearance, I'm guessing your name is-

Shadow: Shadow. Shadow the Hedgehog. I'm the Ultimate Lifeform....(Gently Ruffles the top of Hat Kid's Hair) as well as this little rascal's older brother.

Hat Kid: (Giggles Softly)

Snatcher: Ah yeah. The kid did told me about having two brothers here.... Where's the other one?

Shadow: Out running. His name is Sonic, in case you were wondering.

Snatcher: Generic name, but whatever.

Shadow: So..... Snatcher.... Exactly how did you and Hat Kid first met?

Snatcher: We met back in Subcon Forest. She was walking around, looking for her little time pieces or whatever, and once she fell for one of my booby traps, I immediately stole her soul!

Shadow: (Eyes Widened in Surprised) You stole her what?!

Snatcher: Her soul! S-O-U-L! Honestly, were you even listening the first time I said it, Mr. Ultimate Lifeform?

Shadow: (Glares at Snatcher While Gritting his Teeth and Balling his Fist) I did.....

Hat Kid: (Frowns Worryingly While Calming Shadow Down) Shadow, it's okay.

Snatcher: Oh relax, will ya? I didn't entirely kept it for myself. I gave her a contract to sign to do all the tasks I have planned, in order for her to leave my forest. And....(Facepalms While Sighing) To my literal surprise, she was able to do all of them, with little to no problem.

Shadow: She did?

Snatcher: Yeah. And let me tell ya, I picked out the most challenging objectives ever known to men and spirits alike! I made her murder spirits, clean the Subcon Well, deliver mail and packages to my loyal subjects, mess around with Queen Vanessa's manor-

Shadow: (Crosses his Arms) So basically, you made her do your chores.

Snatcher: (Glares Fiercely at Shadow) HEY! THOSE WERE NOT CHORES!! THEY WERE THE MOST GRUESOME TASKS THAT NO MEN, WOMEN, OR ANY OTHER LOWER CLASS SPECIES COULD EVER HOPE OF COMPLETING!!

Shadow: (Raised an Eyebrow) ..............

Snatcher: ('Groans in Defeat') Okay. Fine. So maybe they were just chores. But they were difficult a-and deadly! And yet somehow, that little twerp was able to complete them all!

Shadow: (Turns to Hat Kid) You were able to accomplish all of that just to get your soul back?

Hat Kid: (Proudly Nodded) Mmhmm!

Shadow: (Chuckles Lightly as He Ruffles the top of Hat Kid's Hair Once More) I guess you really are full of surprises, huh kiddo?

Hat Kid: (Giggles Softly)

Snatcher: (Rolled his Eyes While Groaning) Alright. That's enough rambling on about my failures for one day. Let's change the subject, shall we?

Shadow: (Turns Back to the Snatcher) Okay, sure. What else do you want to talk about?

Snatcher: You, of course! Shadow, isn't it? Tell me. How exactly did you get the name "Ultimate Lifeform" in first place? It sounds wayyyyyy to exceptional to be given to anyone.

Shadow: I can assure that the name alone, is far from being an empty title. It was given to by Professor Gerald Robotnik, the man who created me in the Space Colony Ark, many years ago.

Snatcher: (Starts Getting Intrigued) Oh? You don't say.....

Shadow: That's right. I originally created to be an immortal being, but....(Frowns a bit Sadly) Let's just say that... during those years, the professor would used me later for something I.... really don't want to get into right now....(Or possibly ever.)

Hat Kid: (Starts Feeling Sympathy for Shadow as She Hugs Him Tightly)

Snatcher: Ah. So you got yourself a case of a troubling past?

Shadow: ('Sigh') For the most part. But that's all in the past now. I may have been through a lot during those times and done things I'm not proud of, but that doesn't mean I could let them get the better of me. Especially now that I have people in my life, whom I love and cherish everyday. That's why I do whatever I can to fight and protect them, as well as everyone else in this world. No matter how challenging it may be at times.

Hat Kid: (Smiles Softly at Shadow's Speech)

Snatcher: Yeesh. For an Edgelord, you really are a goodie two shoes.

Shadow: (Shrugged) That may be the case, but at the end of the day, and for the most part, it's who I am. And I'm proud of that.

Snatcher: (Rolled his Eyes) Whatever floats your boat, man.......(Suddenly Begins to Grin Evilly While Coming Up with an Idea) Say.....If you want, I can make you an offer you-

Shadow: No.

Snatcher: Ah come on! You don't even know what it is!

Shadow: And whatever this offer of yours is, I'm not interested in it. No matter how many times you would try to convince me.

Snatcher: ('Groans Heavily') Does anyone ever told you how much of a killjoy you really are?!

Shadow: I have been called that on some occasions. It never bothered me, really.

Snatcher: ('Sighs in Defeat') This is already getting boring. I'm outta here.

Shadow: Already?

Snatcher: Yep. I have places to be, souls to steal, fools to torture. Vice versa.

Shadow: Well, if that's the case, I suppose it was..... somewhat nice to meet you in person.

Snatcher: Likewise. You seems like an interesting fellow.....Even if you are a too goody for your good. (Turns to Hat Kid) And as for you, brat, it was.....kind of...sort of....nice to...see you again or whatever-

Hat Kid: (Happily Gives The Snatcher a Hug)

Snatcher: (Groans While Blushing a Little) Yeah, yeah. I know. I missed you too. Now let go of me already!

Hat Kid: (Giggles Softly While Pulling Away)

Snatcher: I swear. Nothing seems to faze you anymore. ('Sigh') No matter. I'm leaving now so......Bye! (Disappears Out of Thin Air)

Shadow: (Sighs While Turning to Hat Kid Once More) You have some weird friends and enemies, you know that? Then again, I had deal with Eggman on most occasions. So I guess I had no room to talk, huh?

Hat Kid: (Giggles Softly) Maybe~

@keyenuta

@miki-13

@cyber-wildcat

@26shann

@albion-93

@italian-love-cake

@ma-lemons

@sonicsflowers

@chompycroc

@toriwest

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Coming, Coming Home Chapter 3 (Except it’s actually called Building Home now)

Hello fuckers so I impulsively changed the name of my big fic because I have Plans for the title coming home so now it’s called building home, but it’s still the same fic. Also here’s chapter 3 please read the warnings and if you spot any typos lmk because I wrote this late at night.

Also! The last chapter title was from i hope ur ok by noll! The POV for this chapter is White Lily, which makes it officially the first chapter from the POV of an original character, so I hope you enjoy!

Title: Building Home

Chapter Title: The day it was suddenly real

Chapter Wordcount: 3404

Chapter Summary:

Cherri Cola arrives home. Wounds are stitched, impulsive decisions are made, and no one is especially okay.

Warnings: Needles, blood, injury, fairly frank discussion of death and child death. (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen​ @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post

Chapter 2 Tumblr Post

(Actual fic under the cut)

Lily looked up as Cherri stumbled into the house, pressing a hand to his side and wincing. She and D had gotten back a few minutes ago, finding their mission for the day discouraging and hopeless. D was off upstairs somewhere, she thought, and she was nursing a cup of ‘tea’, which was something more approximating warm water with a little bit of some sort of dried leaf they had found in the kitchen cabinets boiled in it. They were both pretty sure it was actually parsley, but Lily insisted it was ‘minty enough’. It wasn’t as if they had anything else for tea. She would have gotten something to eat as well, but they were mostly out and they would need enough left for dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast.

So, in short, it had been an incredibly shitty day and it was about to get even worse. Given that Cherri proceeded to pass out on their floor.

Lily swore under her breath and set down her cup, hurrying over to the younger killjoy. “Cherri?”

No reply. She crouched next to the other and gently turned him over, sucking in a sharp breath at how much blood covered his side. “Cherri! D, get down here! Quickly! And bring the med kit!”

D came hurrying in a few seconds later, grabbing the first aid kit off the wall as he did. “What’s going on, Lil- Cherri!”

Lily grabbed the kit from him and dug around for the disinfectant, swearing under her breath all the while. In her opinion, there were times that called for generous usage of the word fuck, and this was one of them.

“Cher, wake up,” Lily whispered as she cleaned the wound, trying futilely to wipe away the blood so she could see.

Cherri jerked under her hands, eyes blinking open. “D- Lil- you have to go.”

“Go where?” D asked gently. It was clear Cherri wasn’t going to let them help until he passed on whatever he was going to say, so Lily let D talk.

“Go- just. Just go somewhere. They know about the radio station- bli, they’re coming to hunt us down soon. They know Lil’s in Zone Four.”

D and Lily exchanged glances.

“Go pack our stuff,” Lily told him. “I’ll take care of Cher.”

D nodded to her and hurried upstairs as she threaded the needle with hands that shook more than she wanted to admit. “Okay, Cherri, I need you to be brave. This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Got it.” Cherri’s teeth were clenched. 

Lily started the first stitch, trying not to flinch as Cherri gave a tiny yelp of pain. “It’s going to be okay, only a few more stitches, okay?”

She got a tiny nod and another hiss of pain in response. Every pained noise cut at her heart, but she couldn’t let Cherri lose too much blood. Only the Phoenix Witch knew how much he had lost already. So Lily put in careful stitch after careful stitch, pausing to clean the needle occasionally.

“What happened, Cher?” 

“Went to- went to raid a supply truck.” He sucked in a breath as Lily tied off the next stitch. “Exterminator was altered by the clap. Found me and shot me.”

“How the hell did you get away?” D was returning from the upstairs with almost everything they owned neatly packed away, getting ready to pack up any stuff in the living room that they’d be able to take. 

“They-“ he winced. “They let me go. Threatened me, told me to tell you two that you wouldn’t win.”

Lily glanced at D again and found that the concern in his eyes mirrored her own. “Okay, you’re all sewed up, Cherri. Let’s go out to the van.”

Cherri tried to get up, but D pushed him down firmly. “Absolutely not, you’re barely even stitched up. I’ll carry you out.”

“Fine.” Cherri didn’t resist as D picked him up, following Lily outside. She watched to make sure everything went smoothly as they set him down on the small nest of blankets and other soft things Lily had thrown together, then headed to the front. By the time D had settled next to their youngest crew member, she was already in the drivers’ seat, getting ready to take them away from here. 

Lily thought she heard Cherri mutter something about ‘I’m not a child’, but he was curled up and fast asleep within minutes as she stepped on the gas. 

And meanwhile, Dr. Death Defying made his way back up to the front of the van carefully, sliding into shotgun. 

“Feels real now,” Lily said as her best friend settled next to her. She was still carefully steering them down the road, trying not to bump too much and wake up Cherri.

“We knew the consequences from the start.” D’s voice was businesslike, but Lily could hear the strain of worry behind it.

“We did. We’ve seen enough death to know it could happen to us.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road. “But it feels more real when it’s Cher who got hurt.”

“He’s so young,” D agreed. Their voice had softened and grown quieter.

“He is. God, I know he’s hardly younger than we were when we were shipped off to fight, but he’s still a child, D.”

“I know, Lil.”

“He’s so small. So young. And he’s got that way about him like there’s kindness behind the pain. Who put him in this war? Who let him be one of our little rebel soldiers? He should be….”

“Happy,” D finished for her. “Safe. Not going head-to-head with exterminators and helping run a radio station.”

“Exactly.” Her voice shook more than she would have liked. “Are we doing the right thing, D? Can we justify letting children fight a war we know we might not win?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. 

“It’s not like we can stop them from fighting, but sometimes I question if we should encourage them,” Lily went on. “So many of them are going to die, D.”

“That’s how war is. We know that.”

"We learned it well.” She knew her laugh was a little bit bitter. “It’s still not right, though.”

“No, it’s not. But we’re not fighting for nothing. There’s a future without Better Living, and we have to fight for that. Fight for it with everything we’ve got.”

Lily sighed. “I guess you’re right. I don’t like it, but we don’t have a choice now. Got ourselves into this mess, I guess we better get ourselves out of it.”

“That’s the spirit,” D said dryly.

“You think we should send Cher away?” It was an abrupt subject change, but that was what had been hovering in her mind as she and D debated morality. “He’s going to get hurt a lot by being with us.”

“He’s going to get hurt either way. He wasn’t even with us today when he got hurt, and the exterminator didn’t sound like they recognized him. Cherri is reckless, we both know. He’s going to get hurt.”

“And it’s not like he would listen if we tried to send him away anyways.”

“That too. He would stick to us like superglue.”

Lily took her eyes off the road briefly to glance back at Cherri, who was still curled up tightly as they bumped along. Even when he slept, there was a slight bit of guardedness to him, unwilling to fully stretch out. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Me too.”

-

They hadn’t known where they were going when they packed up and left the house, only knowing that they needed to get out, but a plan started to form in White Lily’s mind as they headed down the road. D didn’t question her, seemingly absorbed in his thoughts as he stared out the window, and Cherri was passed out from a combination of blood loss and not sleeping well for a while. Ever, really. Lily didn’t think he had slept through the night since he arrived- he rarely actually woke one of them up, but she was up on her own often enough when he would be awake and bumping around. So even without the ray gun wound, he definitely needed sleep.

Lily turned them off the path they had been following, pulling up in a somewhat intact town. They were parked in front of the most intact house, an almost Victorian style home with sturdy walls. This was where Lily knew she could find an old friend, of sorts. 

Autumn Assassin was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old, about five foot four, and utterly and completely terrifying. They were the best shot with a ray gun she had ever met, with the possible exception of Cherri, and could use a variety of other weapons with startling ease. They were also terrifyingly competent at cooking and keeping organized, and hadn’t put up with anyone’s shit in living memory. Lily had served with them for a time in the Helium Wars, and that brief service together was enough to give her a healthy respect for them. 

“Where are we?” D asked, finally seeming to come out of their thoughts.

“An old friend’s house." Lily headed into the back, grabbing one of the bags as D lifted Cherri carefully. She led the others up to the door of the old and mostly intact house, knocking once she had finished laughing at the ‘House of Soup’ spray-painted next to the door. 

Said door was opened by an unfamiliar killjoy with messy blond hair. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

“I need to talk to Autumn Assassin, do they still live here?”

“Sure do!” There was a loud crash and some yells from within the house. “I’ll get them in uhhh a second. HEY AUTUMN! WE NEED YOU UP HERE!”

A few more yells followed that, as well as one or two more crashes. “Now put that sword down or so help me!” The familiar tiny killjoy appeared at the door, putting their hands solidly on their hips. “So what is it, Princey?”

“These fine ‘joys showed up on our doorstep and asked to see you.”

“Ah. White Lily!”

“Hey, Autumn Assassin. You don’t happen to have a spare room, do you?”

Autumn Assassin looked them up and down, eyes raking over D’s tired face, the bits of blood splattering all of them, and Cherri passed out in D’s arms. “Of course I do.”

Lily breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the smaller killjoy hurried them inside. The interior of the house proved to be quite cozy, a nice living room outfitted with a verity of mismatching and likely stolen or scavenged furniture. There were also a variety of killjoys lounging around the living room and/or draped over said furniture, laughing and calling back and forth to each other as Autumn Assassin led the three of them further inside and up the stairs.

They turned left on the landing, opening the door to what had once been a bedroom, clearly. “Here you go, this is the best free room in the house, currently. We might even have an extra mattress laying around, you’ll have to give me a second to find it through.” They rummaged around in the closet of the room for a few minutes. “Ah! Here we go!”

It was a larger mattress than one would reasonably expect to fit in a closet, but Autumn Assassin had managed to cram it in there anyways, it appeared. They hauled it out and laid it across the floor of the fairly bare room. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you,” Lily said gratefully as D set Cherri down. 

“Of course. Now come tell me about your friends and how you came to be here, I’ve got to cook dinner but you can come downstairs with me.”

“I’ll wait with Cherri,” D told Lily. “He’ll probably not be very happy about waking up alone in a strange place.”

Lily nodded and so did Autumn as they tromped downstairs, shouldering past another killjoy to reach the kitchen. “And here we go, pass me that can of power pup, would you?”

Lily handed it to them. “So you’ve been living here…”

“Couple of months now, me and the brit boys settled down here first and then we acquired a couple of other friends along the way. It’s a safehouse of sorts, we give a room to anyone who needs one.”

“Gotcha.”

“So how did you come to be here with an injured teenager and that other guy?”

“That other guy is Dr. Death Defying, my friend from my very first squadron. And the teenager is Cherri Cola, a random killjoy who came to live with us after he accidentally stumbled on our house while looking for shelter.”

“Seems legit.” They were stirring a pot of power pup with a few other things thrown in. “So how did you end up here?”

“You know 109 WKIL?”

“The radio station? Of course I do.”

“We run that, you might know, and so Better Living Industries has been trying to track our signal. Cherri went out and got hurt in a clap with an exterminator, and the exterminator told him that they were close to finding WKIL, so we had to leave home in a hurry.”

“And he didn’t die? An exterminator?”

“Didn’t die, just got hurt. He’s a good shot and a much better fighter than you would expect.”

Autumn Assassin nodded, stirring the pot one more time before they put it over the fire already lit in the sink. “So you decided to come here?”

“I knew it would be safe, and I figured you would let us stay for a while.”

“Hon, you can stay as long as you need.” They made a face. “I’ve started talking like a southern grandma.” 

“You practically are a grandparent,” Lily deadpanned. 

“Rude. See if I let you stay here now.” Their voice was joking, and Lily didn’t think for a second they would actually kick her out. “But in all seriousness, you really can stay for as long as you need. You’re staying until your friend is healed at least. He looks like barely more than a kid.”

“He’s sixteen. Seventeen by now, I’m guessing, but he didn’t tell us his birthday.” She ignored the faint twinge of guilt that neither she nor D had thought to ask. Birthdays weren’t such a big deal in the desert, but they still celebrated when they could. 

“See? Child. Baby. Youngster.”

“You’re literally twenty-five.”

“I’m still not a literal child. Plus, I’m a cat grandparent.”

White Lily raised her eyebrows at them.

“Princey- his name is Prince of Wales but we call him Princey- adopted a mangy stray cat. And we’ve decided I’m the collective parent friend.” Autumn gave the pot another fierce stir. 

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” They lifted the pot off the heat. “Dinner!”

This was met by a cascade of killjoys thundering down the stairs and several more hurrying in from the living room, much to Autumn Assassin’s disgruntled “One at a time!” 

Within a few minutes, everyone had snatched one of the chipped bowls or plates (some of which appeared to actually be empty power pup cans) and were lined up neatly. D and Cherri appeared to have been alerted by the noise as well, given that they made their way slowly down the stairs after everyone else.

“Guests first,” Autumn Assassin said firmly, and the killjoys all stepped aside to let D and Cherri by. “Here you go, Lily, here you go…Dr. Death Defying, Lily said?”

He nodded.

“And here you go, young man.” They dumped some in the chipped bowl one of the ‘joys had handed Cherri. 

“Thank you,” Cherri said quietly.

“Of course. Go sit down, you three, I’m going to hand some out to the rest of this lot.” Within a few minutes, the entire household was sprawled back out around the room eating the mixture that Autumn Assassin had spooned onto their plates, and Autumn Assassin came to join the three of them over in the corner Lily had claimed.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, I’m Autumn Assassin.”

“Cherri Cola.”

“Dr. Death Defying. It’s nice to meet you; Lily said you were a friend of hers?”

“We knew each other during the Helium Wars,” Lily explained. “I figured they would be happy for us to come stay a bit.”

“And I am, you can stay as long as you need. We don’t turn away ‘joys in need in this household.” They gestured with their spoon a bit as they spoke, adding emphasis to their words. “If I have extra food and rooms, I might as well give them to people.”

“Well, we’re very glad you do,” Dr. Death Defying put in.

“Of course.”

The rest of the dinner was quiet, at least for the four of them. The rest of the room was filled with laughter and chatter and spirit, a bunch of teens and twenty-something killjoys talking between themselves and having a good time. Occasionally, one of them got up to grab more from the pot that Autumn Assassin had prepared, until the entire thing was empty and everyone seemed to have eaten their fill. After the meal was over, they all split off to different places, some off to bed and some to hang out on the roof, it seemed. The three of them went back to the little room, figuring that Cherri could use some rest and all pretty tired themselves.

Cherri was conked out within minutes, and D and Lily settled on the mattress but didn’t go to sleep just yet.

“I hope we don’t bring bli down on Autumn Assassin’s head,” D fretted softly.

“If we do, they’ll flip the corporation off and keep right on cooking,” Lily predicted with a snort.

D gave a small chuckle. “They might just, from what I’ve seen of them so far.”

“They’re terrifyingly put together. And a good fighter, but how organized they are is scarier.”

“They act like they have their life together.”

Lily flopped on her back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure they do. Unlike us.”

“Unlike us. We’re trying to run a revolution at twenty-two and twenty-one though, I think it can be forgiven.”

“Probably.”

D groaned softly as he settled down as well. “I’m too young for achy everything.”

“So am I, and everything still fucking hurts sometimes.”

“Guess that’s life.” 

The duo stared up at the ceiling together as Cherri slept well, not exactly peacefully, but not horribly, at least. They had already talked about the morality of all this, but Lily was sure that would have been their topic of conversation if they hadn’t. It was awfully hard to decide if they were doing the right thing, sometimes. They were fighting for the future of their generation and all the ones after, but that fight would take away hundreds or thousands of futures as well. Could the death of so many people, so many teenagers, just barely out of childhood, be justified? Could she ask children to die for her? It had been an exhausting day, but even in the safety of Autumn Assassin’s house, her mind refused to rest. She had a thousand doubts and no one to say them to, not even D. They doubted too, she knew, but D had a somewhat more utilitarian approach to it all. To him, the world they were fighting for was worth all the death and pain. It had to be, or why would they fight? So Lily didn’t say anything further about it, but she didn’t sleep either.

It appeared D wasn’t sleeping as well, as they shifted slightly on the mattress beside her. “It’s real now, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s real now,” Lily agreed quietly.

In the history books that Better Living Industries would write, the Analog Wars began in 2010, when dangerous anarchists attacked a peaceful Better Living Industries encampment. In the stories passed down by the killjoys, they began a couple of months before that, with the attack on a small town of killjoys and neutrals by Better Living Industries. But to Dr. Death Defying and White Lily, the war began the second their friend staggered in the door with a hand pressed to his bleeding side and a dreadful warning on his lips.

[ghouliethejoyboy]

New Years: Who Does What

Who Does What

Fun Ghoul: Tends to head his black sand party until the drunks or the Dracs come and break up the fun, at which point, he'll head back to the diner and get loaded as fuck with Poison until they pass out or attempt to have drunken roof sex (attempt being the key word, they usually can't even manage to get their belts off, and yes, the drunken sex attempts happened even before they were together.) They get. Really. Really. Really, obscenely drunk. Cherri tends to bring a large crowd to his black sand parties, and if he’s sober enough, he’ll be down to join some Devil May Care, where the red partakers and black players from Party’s party and his.. death and suffering celebration will mesh together.

Party Poison: He starts off the night at his own red sand party, and occasionally he'll be known to make a show at Pony's silver sand parties for an hour or so. There have been a few drunken kisses, drunken fights, and Poison is usually on SOMETHING by the end of the night. He'll always end up at his own red sand party by the end of the night though, along with the other four. It's sort of a general rule of thumb that the four have to be home and passed out within the red sand lines by sunrise, otherwise he tends to get worried as fuck. Jet stayed at a silver sand party until 6 A.M once and there was hell to pay for not being back in time. Like seriously, don’t mess with Party’s curfews the few times he does set them. Sometimes, the red sand party will move to the fun fair, which isn’t occupied during off season, and they’ll play some Devil May Care with the black sand players from Ghoul’s party.

Jet Star: He probably has one of the most interesting New Years, going from patrolling Yellow's at Neo Pasadena with Mikey, making jokes and cracking a few beers, to being the most fabulous flaunting gay at Pony's parties. One time he got into a slap fight with Chimp after Pony slipped speed into his beer. He has since brought his own beer to said Silver Sand parties. He just BARELY makes it home to the red sand parties in time, which is pretty out of character for him, but New Years he just does whatever the fuck he pleases.

Kobra Kid: Starts off the night with Jet, as said before, but probably most surprising of all, considering his calm nature, he goes and co-hosts Ghoul's black sand party. For the past few years they've been passing each other in kill counts, and it always ends with them having their own fight by the end of the night, but both of them are too drunk to land anything close to real.

The Girl: She starts off the night with Jet and Kobra since the diner is most rowdy at the start of the red sand parties, and then, she'll go off with Jet to silver sand parties, everyone at Pony's party knows better than to fuck with her, because she WILL kick you in the crotch. That's actually how she got banned from Ghoul's black sand parties, where she, surprisingly, did very well for herself. She'll still make an appearance from time to time to light a sparkler into a dead Drac's head. Then, she'll head back to the diner, dance with Poison, he'll even let her have "one sip"... along with the other four, but none of them know the other give her sips, so she ends up having about a full bottle's worth of beer, but she's not about to ruin her fun over this.

Show Pony: As stated before, he heads up his own silver parties, getting so drunk he legitimately cannot remember his own name for a straight week, and usually spends the day after on the couch, groaning and not moving and begging Doc for more beer: "My head hurtsssss beer will numb ittttttt"

Doctor Death Defying: Fucking hell, you didn't think he'd stick around for the Silver parties did you? HELL no, he goes to none other than the most intense black sand party in the zones, Fun Ghoul's, and there's a common saying that the party doesn't start until the doctor is in the house. Any Joys that get hurt at black sands, he'll care for immediately, but any of the Dracs that enter are fair game. He's ended up kicking Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid's asses a couple of time, he gets pretty wild on adrenaline at those parties.

Tommy Chow Mein: He'll start off the night at some of the tamer silver sand parties, pedaling drugs, as per his usual prickly self, but he will also make appearances at red sands to sell sparklers and more beer for anyone who can still hold it down. He’ll then head to Ghoul’s black sand parties, and most years, he manages to refrain from joining, instead, making sure Doc is alright, providing necessary medical supplies (for a price) to Joys who just don’t know when to step out of the black circle, and although he’ll never admit it, watching Ghoul from a distance to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. He cares about that greasy fucker, damn it. Cherri Cola: Cherri used to host his own black sand parties, but then his and Ghoul’s congealed into one large party. He’s alright with that though, larger crowd, and that means more Dracs tend to drop by. More kills for him. He’s even started taking his son these past few years. They say Jackie Cola’s a real good shot when his Dad let’s him do more than just watch. They say he might be the next Party Poison. Some say that kid’s already earned himself a name. - Wow, two in one day, and two good ones if I do say so myself. I hope you guys enjoyed, also, for those of you who notice, I did name Cherri Cola’s son in this set of headcanons. Some of you might know, but I do have my own Killjoy roleplay, so I sort of let slip the name we use for Cherri’s son in that roleplay, and if you guys like that, then please let me know, it’d be much appreciated, as I have many more ideas, including Tommy having a son (already named and a character that I’ve established) and a bunch of other fun things that could be cool for headcanons. I’m aware it’s been thought of by a few people that Tommy had a wife and son lost in the war, but I’ve got a few headcanons in the closet stashed about them, including him rescuing his son from the city, and things of that nature, so, PLEASE let me know if you’re interested.

[theangrypokemaniac]

Whenever fans invent children for Jessie and James, they tend to come up with two.

Two?

You think I've waited 20+ years for Rocketshipping to reach fruition only to have it resolve in a mere brace of offspring?!

As if!

This is love that could burn holes in the cosmos! It can't help but create more life than that!

Have you no concern for equal representation of combinations? For all that is righteous, it has to go like this:

• Boy just like James.

• Girl just like James.

• Boy just like Jessie.

• Girl just like Jessie.

• Boy with James's hair and Jessie's eyes.

• Girl with James's hair and Jessie's eyes.

• Boy with James's eyes and Jessie's hair.

• Girl with James's eyes and Jessie's hair.

That makes eight. Eight in eight years thank you.

Being of a generous disposition, I'll let Jessie have the next twelve-month period off, but after that:

• Boy just like Pa James.

• Girl just like Pa James.

• Boy just like Ma James.

• Girl just like Ma James.

• Boy with Pa's hair and Ma's eyes.

• Girl with Pa's hair and Ma's eyes.

• Boy with Pa's eyes and Ma's hair.

• Girl with Pa's eyes and Ma's hair.

Ah, sixteen, that's a nice round number.

Hey, they'll be paying for these kids you know!

Yes, as James's parents the grandchildren would take after them anyway, but specifically, the Ma ones would have her purple and her face, and the Pa sort his blue and the dangly piece of which he is justly proud.

James inherited it but Pa's is a thicker example.

I can hear you now:

Ooh, what about Ma Jess?

I wish there were more pictures available to offer some variety.

Ma Jess?!

You people make me sick. Jessie ain't some breed mare built to fulfil your fantasies.

She's having the necessary sixteen, but oh no, that's not enough, you've got to to push her to the edge.

Besides:

1. If Ma Jess wanted to be properly represented genetically she should've stayed and brought her daughter up, rather than fannying about on a suicide mission. Think of Ma and Pa's fine example.

I told yer, Mew lives in the jungle. She only goes up mountains in the skiing season. Even then it's off piste.

2. Jessie looks mostly like Ma Jess anyway so that'll do.

Considering that Jessie and Jessibelle are so similar, and Jessie is the image of her mother, any connection between the girls, should one exist, must come from Ma Jess's side, not any supposed father.

3. There are many folk out there who keep Ma Jess in mind when writing their stories and creating the upcoming generation, for all that she is a borderline mythological character who is canon only in the dub, ironically enough, and probably isn't anymore, until she is again.

If you want the output of those for whom her non-existent existence presses like a ten-ton weight on their conscience, they are all around you, but, who I ask, speaks for Ma and Pa's input? You know, The Best Parents In Pokémon, who stayed together and didn't abandon their son?

Come on, they've only got three fans, and that's including the one Ma holds! Someone's got to champion their half of the bloodline!

If more Ma and Pa followers read this, then show thyself!

4. We don't have a single iota of information on that bastard Pa Jess. The only thing I ever heard, back in the day, was him serving as Pokémon's version of Windy Miller, i.e. quite the alky.

Who's Windy Miller? I've been dying to give myself an an excuse to mention him.

Windy Miller was a main character in Camberwick Green, Trumpton and the other one, the name of which escapes me. These were searing documentaries of bleak rural poverty, the existential pain of living and one man's eternal struggle with the dæmon drink.

This was that man:

I've now convinced myself that's Pa Jess.

Look at him, swanning about his felt smock, his red bow, his shiny shoes and his Puritan hat: he's a menace to society.

Ah, and who shined those shoes? You can bet it wasn't him.

Windy Miller owned a windmill (shocked, aren't you?) and was always getting him into amusing scrapes thanks to his bibulous ways

See?

It got so bad they had call to the British Army from the the Napoleonic Wars to sort 'im out, as if they haven't got enough problems.

Windy was such a commited imbiber he didn't sup bottles of cider like lightweight teenage hooligans. He knocked back pots of the stuff.

Hardcore brother, hardcore.

The local children therefore learnt the harsh realities of life at an early age. The above picture is probably a fair encapsulation of Jessie's childhood.

You've never seen Pa Jess and Windy Miller side by side, have you?

It's because they're the same person. Where Windy originated we know not, and whither Pa went is a mystery, but no longer.

Thus concludes the history of Pa Jess.

Where was I? Oh yes, apparently when Ma Jess perished, Pa scraped together all the money not pissed up the wall and sent Jessie off to Pokémon Tech., after which he promptly died, of cirrhosis presumably. Or he went home more like.

Despite the clear evidence provided on Pa's identity, I'm sure some killjoy will quibble over the details. I suppose we have to humour such people.

Consequently, we can't legally claim to have knowledge of Pa Jess's appearance, barring the brood from inheriting it, meaning only a couple of options are open to us:

• Boy just like Ma Jess.

• Girl just like Ma Jess.

Alright! That's eighteen kids! Are you happy now?

Ooh, what about overpopulation?

Correction: the world's overpopulated with scum. We need more good 'uns to prevent being outnumbered.

If you're a husband and wife determined to spend eternity together, you might as well have  as many babies as possible.

I'm looking at you there, Ma and Pa James!

Compare Brock's lot: ten kids, Pa effed off, Ma died of exhaustion!

If that's what faithless marriages produce, rock-solid unions ought to contribute to the nation's wellbeing by bringing up decent children.

She is ethereally beautiful.

I can forgive a lot from a pretty face.

I've never seen this picture elsewhere, so if you use it, I will know it's from me.

Take it! Spread it across the internet! But I claim to be the originator.

As for Rumishippers (I know you're about, I've seen the art) I'm sure they also approve of these dynastic plans, as long as a slight tweak in the mother's name is allowed.

The fecundity will be as forthcoming, for we may conclude that Jessibelle is one to never utter the passion-thwarting line to James:

'Not tonight dear, I've got an headache.'

Not many men can say that whatever girl they choose to marry, the children will be same.

[robinrunsfiction]

4 with jet where the reader says that and then passes out in his arms but everything ends up ok and fluffy

In The Middle of a Gun Fight

Pairing: Jet Star x Gender Neutral ReaderRating: GeneralRequested By: AnonWord Count: ~1,100Author’s Note: Again with me on my “I’ll title this later” bullshit lol but enjoy some Jet Star fluff! There’s some mentions of blood/injury, but nothing too graphic. As per usual with my Danger Days fics, (YKN) is your Killjoy name

It was an ordinary clap with a unit of Dracs scrounging through the desert for unsuspecting Killjoys on their own. But what they found was you, Party Poison, and Jet Star itching for a fight. The ‘Joys made quick work of the Dracs, but one slipped off.

“Where’d that last bastard get off to?” You asked, taking off ahead of the other two. 

“Hey, (YKN), wait!” Jet called after you.

When Jet rounded the boulder he spotted the Drac jumping down just behind you. Before he could shout a warning or grab his holstered blaster, the Drac smashed a bottle over your head.

You fell to your knees in pain, and a moment later the Drac was on the ground next to you, dead. Jet ran over, blaster still in hand and helped you to your feet.

“Shit (YKN) are you ok? That looked really bad, I think you’re bleeding!”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,“ you winced.

“You’re not very convincing,” Jet retorted. 

“Yea, yea, I’m fine,” you replied. But your vision was starting to go dark at the edges.

“(YKN)? (YKN)?!” You heard Jet shouting your name and the last thought you had before everything went black is that he sounded really scared.

Jet watched as your eyes rolled back and your knees gave out from under you. He caught you in his arms as he shouted your name.

“Party! Party! It’s (YKN)! Help!” Jet shouted.

Party rounded the boulder to see Jet lifting your limp, bloodied body. “What happened?”

“We gotta get 'em back to the car, hurry!” Jet said as they both made their way back to the car.

Jet got into the backseat, cradling you against him. He after checking the wounds on your scalp, he tried to dab away the blood that was seeping out of your hair. He also kept checking to make sure you still had a pulse, that your breathing hadn’t stopped, he wasn’t going to lose you today.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he pleaded under his breath.

Party glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the fear in his friend’s face. He knew Jet had a thing for you, but he hadn’t worked up the courage yet to say anything. Party knew Jet was now worried he would never get a chance.

“We’re almost there,” Party said.

“Can you go any faster?” Jet pleaded.

“Not unless you want to risk all our lives,” Party replied.

They sped up to the diner, Party holding open the door for Jet who was carrying you.

“Kobra! Get in here!” Party shouted for his brother “And bring the med kit!”

Jet laid you down on one of the cots in the back as Kobra rushed into the room. 

“What happened?” He asked when he saw the dried blood on your face.

“Drac played dirty and knocked (YKN) out with a bottle,” Party explained as Jet held your hand.

Kobra nodded. “Get their legs above their head,” he said as he opened the box their medical supplies were stored in. He opened a small vial and waved it under your nose.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was Jet’s concerned face, then Kobra smiling down with a look of satisfaction.

“How are you feeling?” Kobra asked.

“Pain,” you groaned, and felt Jet squeezing your hand tighter.

“I hate to break it to ya, but we didn’t want you unconscious any longer than you already were, and we still need to get the glass out of your hair and clean up those cuts.”

“Fuck,” you replied, squeezing your eyes shut.

“What the hell is going on?” You heard Fun Ghoul asking from across the room.

“(YKN) got knocked out by a Drac,” Party replied over his shoulder.

“Shit,” he muttered. “How you holding up Jet?”

You glanced over and saw Jet glaring daggers across the room. Why did Fun care how Jet was doing? Why was he so mad?

While you were lost in thought, Kobra started combing through your hair, using tweezers to extract the bits of glass. You winced in pain, letting out a hiss and Jet’s eyes were back on you in a flash.

A while later you were bandaged up, cleaned up, and resting. Everyone had left the room except for Jet, who was still hovering at your bedside, keeping a watchful eye on you.

“You were right you know,” you said.

Jet looked down at you, confused. “About what?”

“Everything,” you said with a light laugh as you sat up. “I should have waited for backup. I wasn’t fine, obviously. And thank you for helping me.”

“Of course, we gotta look out for each other out here,” he said looking down.

“Jet,” you said sternly and he looked up at you. “Where are the other guys? Not here. Who was holding my hand when I woke up?”

Jet sighed. “Me.”

“Jet, I care about you too. And not in the same way I care about Party, Kobra and Fun,” you said, taking his hand.

Jet looked down at your hand in his, and ran his thumb over your knuckles. When he looked back at you, you were smiling softly, head tilted to the side. What he learned today was that he couldn’t wait any longer to tell you how he felt. In the zones, there was no time like the present and with the way you were looking at him right now, he had to make his move.He leaned in and kissed you harder than he meant to, given you were recovering from a head injury, but he had been waiting so long for this moment and he wasn’t going to wait any longer. 

You couldn’t help but smile as your lips connected, it felt like a spark was going through you and the nagging pain from your injury was the last thing on your mind. You had wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss Jet, but you didn’t expect it to be this passionate, as you always assumed he would kiss you gently, so you were very pleasantly surprised. 

When you both pulled back for air, Jet smiled and then let his forehead rest against yours. “I’m just so glad you’re ok (YKN), I don’t know what I’d do without you.”