#A ragtag group of misfit kids (the cities)

[kaz-playz]

Life is hard when u wanna start writing and finally update ur one shot book after 50-million years but the only things ur comfortable/motivated to write is

That one character

His boyfriend

A ragtag group of misfit kids.

Please send help.

#that one character (Illinois) #his boyfriend (illiyork) #A ragtag group of misfit kids (the cities) #i also love chatfics. #send requests on my ao3 #or asks #if you want <3 #god im suffering.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 3 MATCH 1

Qiu propaganda:

“i love them sooooo much i was completely head over heels for cove but then i found out about qiu lin and ol2 and they took that spot in my brain IMMEDIATELY. that should say enough. also i just really want them to win this time </3”

“They're my beloved :] and also the only OL character not disqualified so I had to hdjdbdj I just wanna see how far they can go now :]”

“Genderfluid ADHD monarch. They enjoy mountain biking and ballet. As a kid, if they're set to Crush, they'll desperately try to find a way to link the MC's favorite color to themselves in an attempt to impress. They're the most popular kid in town and for good reason. Can be sharp as a tack, especially in social situations, but also can be so endearingly stupid.”

“Listen. Listen to me. Here's why Qiu Lin deserves the win (ha)

- They're a trans POC love interest (specifically genderfluid and chinese-american)

- They spend a lot of time in Step 1 (the first part of the game where everyone is a kid) being super nice and trying to accommodate for you

- They specifically try super hard to bring you (and Tamarack) into their already established friendship group

- (It doesn't work out super well initially but they're trying, be nice)

- Qiu's also just. Super sweet when you're set to have a crush on them in Step 1

- Like, their word count almost doubles when they have a crush on your MC

- There's one part of the game where you can bring up your favourite colour

- On a friendship route (or if you're set to neighbours), Qiu will maybe make a short comment about something related to your favourite colour

- On crush? Qiu stretches so far to tie your favourite colour back themself. Your favourite colour is green? That's the colour of their jacket!!! It's black? Like their bike, did they mention their cool bike!!! It's white, [imagine this is in italics] the inside of their house (no, really)!!! [end of imagining this is italics]

- They're also set to have an arc about much they accommodate for others and how they go from over accommodation in Step 1 to no accommodation in Step 2 to finding a balance in Step 3

- Also, like, they do in fact go through gender identity issues. In fact, they spend Step 2 not quite knowing their gender identity fully

Now, vote for Qiu!!!!”

"Genderfluid and uses they/he pronouns.

Their hobbies are mountain biking and ballet.

Most popular kid in town by, like, a mile. And for very good reason.

Immediately devotes themself to making sure their new neighbors (the MC and Tamarack) feel welcome in their new town.

Loooooves teasing their friends.

Is genuinely confused if the MC doesn't immediately consider them friends because. He considered you friends.

Not canonically ADHD (yet. things can change.) but like. The ADHD vibes are strong.

Forgetful and writes stuff down in a notepad to remember it, then proceeds to lose the notes. This happens constantly.

They have a whole arc about going from being overly accommodating and giving too much of themself to others, to closing off and not giving anything, to finding balance and figuring out how to be kind and caring without overexerting themselves.

Also, one of their closest friends is a trans woman. This is relevant simply because I love Renee and had to mention her."

Fenris propaganda:

“Broody hot elf with glowing tattoos and a sultry voice that escaped from his former slaver and joins your ragtag team of misfits that save the city. He is snarky with your companions and always so surprised to be loved and supported. Everytime I play and try to romance someone else I fail because I can't not flirt with him.”

“I've played through DA2 four times now and every time I think I'm gonna date someone other than Fenris and every time I don't do that”

“Please he is my husband. I literally cannot do a playthrough without romancing him regardless of how much I try to give the other chara ters a chance because his romance lines are just so good and he's always so surprised that Hawke is into him.”

#Qiu Lin #our life #our life now and forever #fenris #fenris da2 #Dragon Age #dragon age 2 #Round 3 #MDDC 2

[eskawrites]

Have you described what kind of person/people Tenar's parents were and what kind of rulers they were?

How did their reign affect Lark, Arren, Ged, Moss and Tenar herself? And can you remind us if Tenar's rise to the throne was welcome? Was there immense pressure for her to live up to what was the rule of her family?

oh! this was actually part of the notes i was writing up the other day! there's nothing in the fic about it, but in trying to flesh out tenar a bit i did write a little more about her parents.

(put under a cut 'cause this got kinda long)

basicallyyyy her father was understanding but overprotective, and almost always too busy for her. he allowed tenar to learn how to fight, but he forbade her from walking around the palace with a sword of her own. he's a good king, but he has a lot of responsibility and expectations on his shoulders, and he decides that breaking traditions and disrupting those expectations isn't worth the hassle--even when it comes to tenar's independence

the first thing i wrote for her mom was that she was stern and fierce, clever and cynical. i think tenar gets her discipline from her father, but her determination from her mother. i like to think that her mother is the one who taught her how to fight--at least early on, before tenar was skilled enough to learn from actual knights. but i think her mother is tempered in a way that tenar isn't. tenar has bursts of anger and argues with people in power, and her mother understands why she's angry, but she prefers to handle things a bit more subtly. playing by the rules to manipulate the system and get what she wants (whereas tenar would rather change the system altogether so that it actually serves everyone equally)

both tenar's parents were excellent rulers and beloved by the people and by tenar. as far as the rest of the gang goes, i don't think any of them had strong feelings one way or the other. Lark and Arren probably held some spite simply because they're both kids who were left to fend for themselves, whether that's because of a poor economy or bandits or their parents getting arrested for something or whatever. Moss definitely doesn't care for the king and queen, but that's more because Moss doesn't care for anyone in authority (except Tenar. she ends up having a soft spot for Tenar). Ged is...kinda interesting, because though he grows up with this lil band of misfit rogues, he's just a soft scholar mage at heart. That's why he adjusts to palace life so much better than Lark and Moss do. He's probably the most well-versed in politics actually, but he's also a total cinnamon roll. He's like 'yes let's serve the king and queen because it's the Good and Just thing to do and we can be heroes' and then he's like 'the king and queen gave me full access to the royal libraries i love them so much.' and after that he's just loyal to them, and they don't do anything to lose that loyalty, so he's pretty happy with it all

as for tenar. she spends the first two films fighting against people's low expectations of her, but i do think that every time she proves herself, she gains more and more supporters among the people. her rise to the throne takes place after The Bad Guys have killed her parents and almost all of the royal council (or whatever group of advisors there is, i keep saying council, it's fine). she flees the city, then sneaks back in with her group of ragtag adventurers after the villain has taken the throne. so her journey to becoming queen is actually a revolution, and she does it with a group of rebels--the few survivors from the palace, other knights who are still loyal to her, and a whole lot of common folk who believe in her after she's saved the kingdom in the last two movies. i think this actually does help her when she's initially crowned queen and they all get their happy ever after. after all, the old king and queen are dead, and of course tenar is going to be more welcome than the big bad guy.

that said, when the excitement of the revolution dies down, and it's clear that the kingdom does get to just enjoy an era of peace now, there are definitely still people who look at tenar and still see a young, spoiled princess. and you're absolutely right, because her parents were excellent monarchs, so there's a lot of pressure for her to not only uphold the good things they did but also do better than them. but by then, most of the people who actually have influence--advisors, knights, and nobility--have witnessed tenar lead a revolution firsthand, and they're not doubting her anytime soon. and she's a great queen--made even better by lark at her side, supporting her and challenging her and pushing her to be the best she can be. so after a few years, she definitely wins the favor of pretty much everyone in the kingdom who isn't a total jerk

#asks #sweepy-stringbean #erathia #tenlark #just a little #you know what it's my ship i can tag it literally whenever and wherever i want #tenlark tenlark tenlark #ahem #anyway #i really did sit down to start writing some character and plot notes the other day #and ended up mostly just writing about tenar #she is so <3 to me

[nanowrimo]

30 Covers, 30 Days 2022: Day 12

If no one will change the world, you might as well do it yourself! For day twelve of 30 Covers 30 Days, we have Science Fiction novel Nobody Dies Forever by Stephen T. Brophy! This cover was designed by returning designer, Courtney Glancy.

Nobody Dies Forever

A ragtag group of misfit Gen-Xers who’ve been in each other’s orbits since high school once vowed to change the world for the better. Now facing down the enemies of dashed dreams and diminishing time, they’re going to make a last ditch effort by pulling off the greatest heist in human history: kidnapping the ten wealthiest people on Earth. The ransom? Fix the damn planet!

About the Author

Stephen T. Brophy is a Texas-bred, bottle-fed product of Generation X, expatriated to the Republic of Apocalifornia in the '90s. Knew he wanted to write books and scripts and song lyrics and fodder for fun and entertainment since he tried to do his own illustrated adaptation of “Jaws” in a purple composition notebook in 2nd grade. Plying the storyteller trade, occasionally even for money, since somewhere around the turn of the millennium. Showbiz fringe-dweller, extroverted introvert and people lover with a zeppelin-full of social angst and a lone wolf swagger that is 100% bluster and bullshit. Glad to be here.

About the Designer

Courtney is an award-winning creative director based in Charm City. She works across all facets of design and strategy, with a particular love for brand, digital spaces, and design thinking. An industry veteran of nearly two decades, there are few challenges she hasn't tackled — but she's always looking for the next one. She has worked with clients of all types and sizes, from small local nonprofits to large international NGOs. Courtney also served as Programming Director for AIGA Baltimore for three years, during which time she led the conception and creation of the chapter's annual Design Week. She frequently can be found peering through the viewfinder of a vintage film camera, cooking up something delicious in the kitchen, or doting on her three darling cat-kids.

#nanowrimo #nano #30c30d #30 Covers 30 Days #design #science fiction #stephen t. brophy #courtney glancy

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

46 & 49

However you want.

Thanks Babes! I loved these prompts together.

46- Shimmer

49- Nightfall

The heatwave currently overtaking the city was raising, blanketing the streets like it was sucking the air out. Even sitting at the top of the buildings, well above the concrete maze below, could you see the shimmer in the air, waves distorting everything around them like it was out of focus.

Nick hated it, hated the heat that made his shirt cling to his back and torso, how the sweat beaded at his hairline to race tracks down his face. How it made him aware of just how uncomfortable he was, and when he was focused on other things, well he couldn't concentrate enough on his powers.

Fucking heat, fucking city, fucking life making him have to be up here when he could be doing better things in a nice AC bedroom. Division is always up their ass causing issues.

His foul mood bled out in a scowl as he hovered in the shade as much as he could, listening to you and Cassie discuss tonight's ventures. Cassie's notebook sat open on her lap while you looked at the drawing.

Now you, although sweat tracked down the side of your face, occasionally wiping it away with the side of your arm and the little curly small hairs at your temple curled impossibly wild, it didn't seem to bother you. Nick was perhaps just a bit jealous that you weren't fazed, not like it did him.

Thankfully night started to creep in, and the darkness would hopefully bring some kind of reprieve for the little ragtag group of misfits. "You guys just follow the steps we worked out and you two will be out with the key codes that the Division is looking for." Cassie said triumphantly.

"And if we don't?" Nick asked, ready for the ball to drop.

"Um- well... then it will lead to casualties and not looking good for you or Y/N." Cassie snapped her notebook closed with a finality that left no doubt in her predictions. "Nick, just don't lose focus and you two will be fine."

"Great, fantastic, and it has to be tonight of all nights." He snapped out, hands falling to hips as he let his head hand a moment, muttering to himself.

"Nick..." You approached him, knowing he was just stressed. "Cassie and I went over this a hundred times today. It will work out." You smiled at him, letting your arms loosely wrapped around him. Worried eyes saw yours, making him sigh a bit but loosen up. "We are gonna get the keycodes well before they can find them."

"You're right, you're right..." He glanced at his watch, calculating how much longer they would be able to use the cover of darkness to break into the building. "I trust you two."

Cassie hopped off the ledge she had been perched on, stuffing her notebook in her bag. "You should say that louder and let me record it, you know... for the next time you get all anxious over nothing."

"Kid, bite me." Nick rolled his eyes while Cassie mimicked the move back.

"I'm not a kid."

Send Me An Ask From This List

#amber answers #amber writes #sweater writes #nick gant #push #grumpy nick

[mylordshesacactus]

Suncrest Campaign Character Highlights Thus Far:

Since it’s our off week (we run on a 3/1 schedule, taking the last week of every month off to avoid burnout) I thought I’d take some time and list my favorite moments for each of the campaign’s PCs.

Farrah

Favorite Combat Moment: MAXIMUM RAT DAMAGE

Favorite Non-Combat Moment: We LITERALLY have Farrah to thank for the demented conspiracy map. Where would we be without Farrah’s conspiracy board? Nowhere I want to think about.

Audie

Combat: There was a phenomenal moment in this last session where Audie, who is the party WIZARD, the literal squishiest possible spellcaster, physically shoved her way between a wolf bandit and an unconscious 19-year-old civilian, in melee range, summoned a firebolt in his face, and snarled “You want to step away from the kid.” There was so much going on that there wasn’t a lot of time to highlight it during the session, but it’s legitimately I think the most badass thing anyone has done in the campaign so far, and they killed a dragon at level 4. Same session, she pulled out Vampiric Touch for the first time, got a nat 20, and cut the enemy’s HP in half in a single action.

Non-Combat: Spending the first like eleven sessions lamenting the fact that she didn’t have a pearl and so couldn’t cast Identify, the ONE THING she’s best at; consistently forgetting to go purchase one every time she was in the city; finally finding one in a blue dragon’s hoard; and immediately pouncing on it like a cat as it rolled down a pile of silver while going “HAHA! YES!”

Andromeda

Combat: Oh man that one’s hard to pick because she’s had some awesome “oh hell yeah FUCK HIM UP” moments so honestly, let’s give her a shoutout to her dynamic entrance to the campaign, dropping out of the sky onto the head of a death dog.

Non-Combat: “WAIT, I’M A PALADIN?!” tied with her extremely sweet EXTREMELY formal apology to Arlette, complete with fancy half-remembered court bow, because she realized she’d accidentally been pressuring Arlette to out herself and wanted her to feel safe.

Nimbus

Combat: Fucking annihilating the wolf bandit threatening his baby sister. Slit throat from behind with a silver shortsword, no warning, no fucking mercy.

Non-Combat: Honestly his player has done some FANTASTIC roleplaying in this werewolf arc (and the Nat 20 Of Love to find Paisley’s trail in the woods is gonna stay in the highlight reel forever I think). But the other highlight I think has been the fucking TWENTY-EIGHT ARCANA he SOMEHOW rolled during the night hag arc, where he torpedoed a slow-build horror mystery by strolling up to the group and casually going “oh hey, a hag fingernail!”

Max

Combat: Dude MIND-CONTROLLED a FUCKING DRAGON and single-handedly prevented the dragon from taking any offensive actions against the party for basically the entire combat. AT LEVEL FOUR. Also, he got off a CLUTCH Bardic Inspiration last session as well, pushing Farrah just over the save DC she needed to avoid being thrown back by an enemy spellcaster’s Thunderwave--and thus preventing the spellcaster from escaping without provoking an attack of opportunity.

Non-Combat: Right before the hags, when the party was talking over the threat with Arlette, and she was trying to explain to them that they didn’t have to take on an entire hag coven themselves, and Max just very quietly went “Who else will?” and that was actually the moment Arlette saw the group as unlikely heroes for the first time--as opposed to a group of ragtag misfits in way over their heads who needed her protection.

#d&d

[shaheenarnitipsyart]

Invisible Tattoo

This is my third time to join  @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ! 

Word count: 1005 

TW: non

'Don't go to the old town of this city. That area is rough and sketchy.' That's what well-behaved grown-ups usually say. 'It's dirty, and there are a lot of ghosts!' That's what good kids usually say. I heard it so many times. However, their words could not stop my curiosity.

This city is like a labyrinth. Fully automated trains run between the numerous skyscrapers and fancy glass-façade buildings. The neon signs keep shining throughout the night. The sky never gets fully dark because of the reflection of the lights.  It is over-sanitised, too. I swear that nobody can find birds or rats or bugs, even a single fly. 

Yet, when it comes to the 'old town,' it is an entirely different story. The 'old town' is a messy jungle spreading the outskirts of the urban city. Old buildings are cramming and almost crushing down each other. From the crack of the walls, ivy and trees are creeping out. The 'old town' is riddled with countless alleys. And those backstreets have a particular smell - like, a mixture of exotic incense, street foods, alcohol, piss, laundry soap, and cigarettes. The 'old town' is stubbornly resisting the development and the bright, over-hygienic future. Those who live on the clean side of the city say that the residents of the 'old town' are a ragtag group of criminals. There are some gangs, yes. Yet, many residents have their own stories. Many of them found themselves misfitting to the city. Or they just can't leave the place they grew up. Like, my old friend Seiran.

  You cannot tell the age nor the gender of Seiran. They have long silver hair secured at the back of the head with an iron pin. They usually cover their face with an indigo-dyed bandana so that the only things you can see are their thin eyebrows and dark blue eyes. Once,  they told me that their name means 'blue storm' in an ancient language, which matches their personality quite well. Some people think of them as an arrogant artist. Some say they are a talented yet unfortunate magician. Even some say that they are an exorcist. They are bits of all of them, I'd say. But something more special than that.

I make my way to their studio located in one of the cramped old factories. There is a metallic plate hanging on the door, which says ''Barbed Wire Studio'' followed by ''no walk-ins''. I push the door nonetheless. 'Hey Seiran, how are you doing?' 'Lower your goddamn voice, kiddo. I'm working. Can't you see?' Seiran is always like this when they are working. They are concentrating on their patient-client lying in front of them. The room is full of stuff -  needles of various sizes, inkpots, papers, broken glasses, and cups are lying here and there.  Ivy and trees are stretching inside the room from the cracks of the ceiling.  The room itself is a little bit hazy because of the incense and the cigarettes they are smoking.   Seiran is a tattoo artist. But not an ordinary one. They make tattoos to protect the clients. They can erase old tattoos to eliminate whatever bad luck the clients shouldered. It sounds superstitious (and the city dwellers would hate it),  but the demand is surprisingly high.  

I was saved by, or to be more precise, am being saved by Seiran all the time. As far as I remember, I could see something which other people usually could not see. It is not like a vivid image of ghosts and stuff. It is more subtle, like a mirage. I grew up at the border of the over-clean city and the 'old town,' so I occasionally ventured into the 'old town' side. And there, I was chased by something like a group of shadows...then I fell off from the stairs and lost consciousness, and the next moment I woke up, I found myself exactly here, on the bed of the 'Barbed Wire Studio.' Seiran looked a bit scary and weird, yet at the same time, they had this calming husky voice that melted away my fear instantly. 'Poor kiddo, you nearly dropped your own soul on the shitty backstreet. Let me guess... you can see those lazy half-ass spirits hanging around the town, huh?' I was surprised since nobody had ever taken it seriously. 'Yeah... sort of. It usually looks like a mirage but today... ugh!' I tried to explain, but then my head stung like hell. 'Easy, easy now. There are some nasty things here. Go back to your place, kiddo. But before you go, I'll give you something. Stay still.' They put on black gloves and started choosing a needle. 'What, what are you going to do? Wait, who are you?' I managed to ask, although I started feeling dizzy again. 'Oh yeah, I'm Seiran. A tattoo artist. Or whatever. And I'm going to get rid of the things which are chasing you around.' Seiran replied bluntly. 'What?? I don't want a tattoo! It's gonna be a problem, it must be painful, and I hate needles!' 'Keep your mouth shut, kiddo. Other idiots in the city can't see it. If you don't wanna be chased down by nasty shadows, stay still. It won't hurt. Damn, don't fall asleep, OK? It's dangerous.' I think it was insane. Who would allow a total stranger to tattoo your body, and you are even not asking for it! But I stayed still in the end, and they started poking the point where collarbones meet. Surprisingly it was not painful. It was rather itchy. I saw myself in the mirror and found a small, strange, dragon-like figure on my skin. It was simple but beautiful. 'Don't worry kiddo, those who can see the shadows can see it, but not others.' 'What's this?' 'Barbed wire. To fend off nasty evil eyes. Now go home. I'll show you the way.' And this is how I met Seiran and came to know the power of their 'invisible' tattoos and many more mysteries.

#flash fiction friday #fff106 #barbed wire #original fiction #wip #tattoo artist #supernatural

[clarste]

Sorry if you've been asked this explicitly before, but what are your thoughts on Penguin Logistics, specifically in comparison to the other organisations/factions in Arknights? I recently started and managed to grab everyone within a few pulls, except Sora (and I guess Mostima, unfortunately.) and I think they're easily my favourites. Would love to hear your thoughts. Cheers.

No one's ever asked me that, but they probably should have since I've gone all-in on Penguin Logistics ever since I pulled Exusiai and Croissant early on. I then proceeded to never pull any of the others, forcing me to buy Texas and Sora in the shop and much later dump all of my accumulated gacha currency getting Mostima. Anyway, my goal in life is to use the entire team and also max them all out. PL4life!

Anyway, my initial impression of them was that they were the cast of a 90s anime like Cowboy Bebop or Bubblegum Crisis (...Tokyo 2040). Like, they're an eclectic band of hyper-competent misfits working for a small company operating at the edge of the law. “Penguin Logistics” itself sounds like a euphemism for being, like, smugglers or something. "We'll get your package where it needs to go, no questions asked." Then Code of Brawl came out and I was totally right except they are also very dumb in a funny way. Like, they accidentally got into a turf war with the mafia, but apparently that's just business as usual.

Anyway I want to talk about each of them individually now so apologies if this starts rambling.

Texas is pretty clearly the main character of Penguin Logistics, and you can tell because she's the hub of their whole relationship wheel on the in-game chart.

She's also kinda Spike from Cowboy Bebop, although less laid-back I guess. She's a former mafia assassin on the run from her past, but her past won't leave her alone. Incidentally, "mafia" in this case refers to the various wolf families from the fantasy Italy equivalent in this setting, although they make some interesting comparisons to wolf packs in the profiles. However, Texas's family is dead, which should make her a "lone wolf" that will supposedly never have another place to belong. Except PL itself is proof that that's wrong.

Theoretically she’s just the team’s driver, but because PL is always getting into ridiculous anime fights she’s also good at that part too, using dozens of little... lightsabers(?) that she throws around willy nilly. It would probably look super-cool to see in action, except this is not that kind of game so we’ll just have to wait for the anime or whatever. It’s noted in her profile that her fighting style shows that she unconsciously sees as the only purpose of a weapon as being to kill, and heck, she’s right.

She's cool-headed, adaptable, and the serious one you can always count on, but she's not above getting into friendly(?) brawls just to take out her frustrations out.

Her name comes from the extinct subspecies of Texas Wolf.

Next up is Exusiai, the angel who loves nothing more than guns, god, rock and roll, and apple pie. In that order. In other words, a stereotypical American. Even though she's from the fantasy-Vatican. Basically she's a cheerful, friendly, laid-back person who never really fit in back home where people are expected to be more serious and orderly. Not enough to be, like, shunned or anything but she's always been a weirdo. All angels have guns though, that’s like standard issue. She wishes she could have more though.

She's also super religious, but interestingly never brings it upon her own. I feel like she probably realizes how uncomfortable it can make people who don't share that religion to suddenly bring up Jesus all the time in casual conversation. Like, she's not ashamed of it or anything, but she won't shove it in your face either. Personally, I find that a pretty cool characterization for a fictional religious person.

Which is also sort of a hint that beneath her goofy exterior she's a thoughtful, deliberate person who doesn’t let anyone in by accident. Texas notes that they're exact opposites in this respect. She also has an extremely interesting relationship with the next person.

Her name comes from the Greek word for the order of angels in Christianity often translated as "Powers."

Mostima... where to start...? I guess first of all she’s a fallen angel, apparently because she pointed her gun at her own kind under MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES. Probably related to the whole war in Kazdel thing, where many of the other MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES in this game took place. Long story short, stuff happened in the war, she pointed her gun at another angel, Exusiai’s sister is dead under mysterious circumstances, and Mostima gave up her gun and now wanders the world delivering long-distance packages for PL. But that’s mostly an excuse for to be alone as much as humanly possible. She can also use time magic because I dunno why not. MYSTERIOUS.

She’s friendly enough, talkative even, and has a hobby of visiting new places and trying out the local food, etc, but her real defining trait is that she just doesn’t need other people. She’s explicitly aromantic, saying she has no interest in love, but she also has no need for friends or family or apparently coworkers either. Because of the way the world is, she spends most of her time driving through the endless wastelands between cities, with nothing but a truck, some packages, and her thoughts. There’s something... romantic about that (in the other sense of the word), but even she admits that the romance of watching the sun set in a desert with no one else around for hundreds of kilometers gets old after a while.

I feel like I should note that she has a very “best friend of her big sister” relationship with Exusiai, by which I mean she’s known Exusiai since Exusiai was a kid and to her Exusiai will always be that kid. Also Exusiai only joined PL in the first place to hunt her down and get answers about her sister’s death, but Mostima just laughs it off and leaves town for another year or five. 

Her name is probably a corruption of Mastema, a rather infamous fallen angel in mythology.

Croissant is... well, to be honest everyone past this point is more of a minor character. Which is actually a weird thing to say since none of these people are actually major characters in Arknights, but I guess these are less important people even within the group?

Croissant’s gimmick is that she’s always trying to make money by selling stuff. I guess she’s a merchant? But not, like, a formal one who runs a shop, she just gets her hands on stuff through her connections and sells it. But in like, a friendly down-to-earth way, it’s even said that she lives paycheck to paycheck. She’s a girl trying to get by with a second job, I guess is what I’m saying.

Team-wise, she’s the muscle of the group, being a minotaur and all. She lifts the heavy packages and also smashes things with her MAGNETIC HAMMER which I don’t know why I find that name so amusing. Gameplay-wise her special move can knock all the enemies around her halfway across the map and I smile every time she does it.

Her profile notes that she’s really just living her best life as a normal-ish person, and that helps make everyone around her feel normal, and that’s important in a setting where half the people around you are dying of magical cancer (no one in PL is Infected though).

Her name comes from the French word for Crescent and also a type of Pastry. Leaning more towards Pastries in my opinion.

Sora is an idol singer. Because, to be perfectly honest, what ragtag band of misfits is complete without an idol singer? She can’t really fight, but I guess Texas must have saved her life at some point or something because she bullied both her agency and PL into letting her work there part time. And also she is obsessed with Texas. I guess saying it like that makes her sound kind of annoying, but she really isn’t, she’s just an earnest girl chasing her dreams.

There’s also this interesting thing where a lot of her basic information is censored by her agency in order to protect her privacy (”do not dox the idol”). Even including her race. She presents as a wolf, but her promoted E2 art has her as a rabbit, which raises some interesting questions that don’t really get answered.

Her name comes from the Japanese word for Sky.

Lappland is not really part of PL, but she’s PL-adjacent enough to be worth mentioning here. Basically she’s an old acquaintance of Texas from back in their mafia days, and she’s obsessed with hunting her down and... fighting her? Killing her? But in, like, a sexual way? She’s kind of a crazy psychopathic killer. Maybe. She can also be very calm and polite when she wants to be, although with a taste for gallows humor. That just makes her scarier because you don’t know when/if she’ll snap.

There are two kind-of explanations for her being like that: A) her family is dead and she has no “pack”. As a wolf, the stress of living without a pack is supposed to be maddening. B) She’s infected with Oripathy (magic cancer) and there are crystals growing in her nervous system. Which... can’t be good. The answer is probably a combination of both.

But the most important thing about Lappland is her base skill and how it interacts with Texas. Basically, in your base there are various jobs you can assign people to and different characters get different bonuses for them. Most people in Penguin Logistics get bonuses for working the Trading Depot, for obvious reasons. Lappland gets a “bonus” where if she’s in the depot at the same time as Texas, she loses morale slower but doesn’t actually get any bonus to productivity. Meanwhile, Texas gets a bonus to productivity when Lappland is around, but loses morale way faster. In other words, Lappland is slacking off and making Texas so uncomfortable that she works twice as hard just to get the job over with so she can leave. This is their relationship as defined by game mechanics.

Texas also has another bonus where she loses morale slower if Exusiai is there, which completely cancels out the penalty she gets from Lappland. In other worlds, Exusiai being there too calms her nerves enough that she doesn’t feel the need to immediately escape.

Oh yeah, I forgot to talk about Emperor, who’s the owner of Penguin Logistics. He’s a world-famous rapper wearing a Tupac shirt and also literally immortal.

#not touhou #arknights #penguin logistics

[stilldani24]

Seize the Day - Newsie!Bucky x Journalist!Reader Chapter Three

Summary: The Newsie Strike of 1899 made the world stand still for two weeks. For one kid and his bum-legged best friend, it meant The World was watching and they needed to make a difference. Based on Disney’s Newsies.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2457

Warnings: Disabled character, MAJOR FLUFF

A/N: I feel like I’m cheating you guys. It’s kind of slow burn but also love at first sight. Don’t come for me. 

PROLOGUE//CHAPTER ONE//CHAPTER TWO//MASTERLIST

The following day was as uneventful as the day before. The prices remained the same, and they sold papes the same, but Bucky had a plan. When the evening bell rang, he gathered his fellas up and they went down to Theodore’s Deli. It was the local stomping grounds for the newsies of the World, so Theodore, who insisted on being called Thor, allowed the boys to hang out there to unwind before the dinner rush.

“Who’s the big spender who ordered the seltzer?” Thor asked as he finished passing around the glasses of water, to which Clint raised his hand and whistled him over. As Thor approached the boy, he told him, “that’ll be two cents.”

“Two cents for a seltzer?” Clint scoffed as he shook his head, wiping his brow and sighing. “Just gimme’a water.”

“It’s almost as if I didn’t see that comin’,” Thor replied, placing the seltzer back on the tray and handing Clint a flat water. “Clear out in twenty minutes.”

As the thundering man left the dining room, Bucky mocked him silently before waving the boys over with his hands. A couple of the boys shoved each other to get closer to the oldest boy, even the youngest boy joining the group. Peter Parker, aged ten, had joined at the same time as Sam but had kept to himself until a few of the other guys convinced him that he could be a useful asset. A kid as young as Parker couldn’t go unignored.

“Alright,” Bucky spoke up, beckoning for Sam to stand next to him. Sam reluctantly did so. He had heard bits and pieces of Bucky’s plan, and hadn’t thought it was the greatest idea, but was willing to humour him if need be. “So Steve and I’s been thinkin’. Y’know the trolley strike, yeah? Well, what if we’s go on strike too?”

“Strike?” Sam scoffed as he looked to Bucky, an eyebrow raised. “We can’t go on strike. We don’t have probable cause. Or a union, for that matter. Unions need membership.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow as well, looking at the group of newsies surrounding them and waiting for what Bucky would say next. “Whadda’ya call these guys?”

Sam sighed out, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that simple, Barnes. Unions need, uh, they need officers.”

“I nominate Bucky president!” Steve spoke up with a grin, clapping his best friend on the shoulder. Bucky nodded at him before turning back to Sam, giving him a shrug.

“I’m touched, Steve, really. Good enough for ya, Sammy?”

“No,” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “What about a statement of purpose?”

“Ah, gee, must’a left dat in my otha’ pants.”

“Um,” Clint then spoke up, standing on a chair close by. “What’s a statement of purpose?”

“A reason for forming the union,” Sam replied, standing on the table. “Whatever the trolley strikers had, we ain’t got. If we try to strike, they’ll just laugh in our faces and replace us like nothing. We are nothing to them.”

“And if we don’t strike, we’ll never be anythin’ to ‘em,” Bucky replied, yanking Sam off of the table so he would stand at level with him. “Listen, Sammy, I bet if your fatha’ had a union, you wouldn’t be out here sellin’ papes.”

Sam locked his jaw, sighing softly as he closed his eyes. He had been born in New York City, and his folks had escaped from the South for a better life. His father had gotten a factory job in the Bronx to put food on the table, but something had gone wrong. His leg had become trapped in some machinery and was torn to shreds. He lived, but his work fired him with no form of compensation for what happened to him. That left Sam to work, since his mother had passed from childbirth along with his younger brother. He then nodded, giving in now.

“Our union is hereby formed!” Bucky shouted in a fake-posh voice, the others around him cheering. “To watch each other’s backs! Union’d we stand! Hey, that’s not bad, somebody write that down.”

“I got a pencil!” Peter spoke up, pulling the pencil from his paper bag and holding it up. Bucky grinned, grabbing Peter by the shoulder and pulling him up so he would stand next to him.

“Well, meet our secretary of state!”

“If you want to strike,” Sam spoke up now, hushing the buzzing excitement of chatter around the room. “The membership’s gotta vote.”

“Okay, so we’ll vote,” Bucky replied, looking around at the ragtag group of misfits surrounding him. “Whadda’ya say, fellas? The choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pierce pick our pockets clean or do we strike?”

The vote was unanimous, the entire group letting out an enthusiastic, “Strike!”

Well, almost unanimous. Sam was still beside himself, trying to decide within himself which was the smartest tactic to go with. He then sighed out softly, turning to Bucky with a smile.

“Well, mister president,” he told him. “We’ve got ourselves a union.”

“Well, you heard the news,” Bucky grinned, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “The newsies of Lower Manhattan are officially on strike! Now for the other neighbourhoods…”

One by one, different fellas began offering to take different sections of New York. Midlands, Bowery, the Bronx, Queens. “Now,” Bucky clapped his hands. “Who’s got Brooklyn?”

Everyone immediately went silent, avoiding eye contact. Brooklyn was tough turf, and anyone who dared tried to sell on that turf answered directly to Pietro Maximoff himself. His twin sister worked for the World, but he didn’t care. She was set for life while he had to work in the streets and being thrown out to the rats by his rich family brought out a hardened newsie in him. Bucky and Steve used to be a part of his gang, but when Steve’s foot was crushed in a turf scuffle, Pietro kicked him out of the safehouse. With a leg like that, Steve wouldn’t have lived long. Bucky left with him, and it had been the two of them in Manhattan ever since.

“Ey, wouldn’t it be smart to let one of the higher ups know first?” Steve then asked his best bud, giving him an elbow to the side. Bucky looked to him, nodding. The only way for anyone to get any attention is for Pierce to know himself.

“He won’t see you,” a familiar voice spoke up, making Bucky turn and grin when he saw you entering the dining room. “He doesn’t see anyone he doesn’t know. And why are you all so afraid of Brooklyn?”

“What’re you doin’ here, doll?” Bucky smirked as you stopped in front of them, pad and pencil in hand. You raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on your hip.

“Askin’ a question,” you replied, flipping some of your curled hair over your shoulder. “Are you gonna answer me or continue looking like a lovesick dope in front of your crew?”

Bucky chuckled as he approached you now, standing an arms length away. “Brooklyn is the sixth largest city in the world. If you control Brooklyn, you control all of New York. Now…”

He stepped closer to you now, your noses nearly touching. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t move. While some may see it as too close for comfort, you saw it as almost comforting. Something about this boy just made you want him close.

“You said ya worked for the Sun, ey?” he then questioned you, and you nodded in response. “Then why ya hangin’ out so much around the World, huh? You followin’ me, sweetheart?”

You smirked at him, then pressed your notepad to his chest so he would back up. He let out a chuckle, but he did so anyways. “What I’m following here is a story. A ragtag group of ragamuffins are poised to oppose the World and Alexander Pierce himself, the head of all publishing in New York. You think you stand a chance?”

“You eavesdroppin’?” Bucky smirked as he hopped up to sit on a table. “Aren’t you gonna be late for a ballet class?”

“Is the question too difficult? I’ll rephrase,” you replied slowly, leaning forward with a look on your face like you were explaining sharing to a five-year-old. “Will the richest and most powerful men in New York give the time of day to a gang of kids without a nickel to their name?”

“Hey, no need to be insultin’,” Clint spoke up, standing up to face you now. The instant he got in your face, he regretted it. The look you gave him could send his soul straight to Hell. He coughed, straightening out his vest as he stepped back and said, “I got a nickel.”

You shrugged, turning back to Bucky. “So, I guess you’d say you’re a couple of Davids taking on Goliath.”

“We never said that,” Sam spoke up.

You turned to face him then. “You didn’t have to. I did.”

“Y’know,” Bucky then said, making you turn your attention to him once more. “I’ve seen a lot of papes in my day and I ain’t ever heard of no girl reporters givin’ the hard news.”

“Wake up to the new century, Bucky,” you replied as you walked to face him once more. The way you said his name sent chills up the boy’s spine. “The game’s changing. Give me an exclusive interview about this strike and I will get you on the front page of the New York Sun. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t see any other reporters linin’ up to take your picture or get interviews. I’m the best you got if you want the World and Pierce to hear you out.”

The group of boys were silent, looking to Bucky for what he was going to say. He sighed, getting off the table and facing you again. While you noticed before how tall he was, you never really noticed. It was a good height, taller than you, and you could see yourself just melting into those arms. Wait, what? Interrupting your train of thought, Bucky spit into his hand and held it out to you. You raised an eyebrow, looking up at the kid before spitting in your own hand and shaking his defiantly.

“Alright, everyone out!” Thor’s booming voice then entered the room, the man entering a second later with a broom. “I’ve got payin’ customers waiting.”

With groans all around, the fellas finished off their waters before sauntering out. You gave Thor, an old family friend, a happy smile before filing out after the rest of the boys. You wrote down what some of the boys had said on your pad as you made your way down the street, not paying any attention when you bumped into someone blocking your way.

“Jesus!”

“Sorry, doll.”

You rolled your eyes when you heard his voice, stopping under a streetlamp to look up at Bucky. You then sighed, holding your pad and pen against your middle to look at the kid.

“So, what’s your story?” you then asked, leaning against the lamp. “Are you slummin’ in these streets and sellin’ papes to pay your way through art school?”

“Art school?” Bucky scoffed, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. “Nah, not me. Are you kiddin’? That’s hilarious, sweetheart.”

“But, you’re an artist,” you responded, a bit shocked to be completely honest. You had caught up with Natasha the night before following the show, asking about it and she had told you that all the backdrops in the show were painted by Bucky. Not to mention the beautiful portrait he had sketched of you in under five minutes. “You’ve got real talent. You should be inside the paper drawin’ cartoons, not outside hawking it.”

“Maybe that ain’t what I want.”

“Then tell me what you want.”

Bucky smirked at you. He stepped closer, shoes nearly touching from how close the two of you were. The way you looked under the streetlamp was intoxicating, and he could barely restrain himself. “Can’t you see it in my eyes?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you cleared it before stepping away. “Yeah, okay. Have you always been their leader?”

Bucky groaned to himself when you moved away, leaning against the lamp now himself. “Nah, I’m a blowhard. Sammy’s the brains.”

You let out laugh, a little snort escaping from your lips as you covered your mouth. Bucky was sure he was gonna melt in his shoes right then and there.

“Modesty is not a quality I would’a pinned on you.”

“Not much you know about me then, sweetheart…hey, you gotta name?”

The question took you by surprise. After all this time knowing each other, a mere two days, you had never told him your name. “[Y/N]…Pulitzer.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at the hesitation. “What’s’a matter? Ain’t you sure?”

“It’s my byline,” you replied, placing the pencil you were holding behind your ear now. “The name I publish under. Just, tell me about tomorrow. What’re you hoping for?”

“I’d rather tell you what I’m hopin’ for tonight,” he whispered to you softly as he leaned close, a blush rushing over your cheeks. Luckily, you were in the dark now while he was standing in the light of the streetlamp.

“Bucky.”

He groaned, pushing himself off the lamp and pacing a few steps away. “Tomorrow, we stop the carts from deliverin’ papes. Whatever means necessary.”

You raised an eyebrow as you took the pencil from behind your ear, beginning to write what he had said. “Are you scared?”

“Scared?” Bucky scoffed. “Do I look scared?”

You shrugged as he looked to you, almost as if answering for him. His stature wavered, his hands going into his pockets now as he hunched his shoulders. “Eh…but, ask me again in the mornin’.”

“Good answer,” you replied with a smile, closing your notebook as you tucked the pencil behind your ear again. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

With a nod, you began walking down the street again. You heard him call out to you, then heard his footsteps briskly approaching you. You stopped, turning to face him.

“Write it good,” he told you, placing his hand on yours. Your heartbeat picked up, and you could feel the pink tinge returning to your cheeks. “We both got a lot ridin’ on you.”

He then leaned down, kissing your cheek softly. Your breath hitched in your throat and you knew that this kid had you hook, line, and sinker. He smiled at you, then tipped his cap before sauntering down the street in the opposite direction. You then smiled to yourself, holding your notebook to your chest as you too headed home.

Tags: @morsmordrethings​ @captainscanadian​ @thingsthatkeepmeawakeeveryday​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @wtfisachoncexx​ @jllngls02​ @abrilkatz123​ @writeturnlove​ @buckysgirls-stuff​ @tomhollandenthusiast​ @sebastian-i-stan​ @farfromjustordinary​

#mcu #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #newsies #musical #fanfiction #steve rogers #chris evans #captain america #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanficiton #jeremy jordan

[carmenlire]

Make It Look So Easy

read on ao3

“What’s he really worth to you, Hyung?”

Yoongi doesn’t look away from his glass, attention caught on the way the light filters through the cut crystal and picks up a dozen shades of gold in his half-finished whiskey. He feels everyone’s unease as the silence lengthens, knows without looking that Hoseok is waiting expectantly for an answer, that Namjoon-- while outwardly patient-- is on the edge of his seat, too.

Sinking into his chair, Yoongi turns the question over in his mind, taking his time with it. After all, this is what everything’s been building towards. All those sleepless nights, all that goddamn effort trying to keep Jungkook away only to inevitably fail, that’s been the question since Yoongi ran into the kid all those months ago.

What is Jungkook worth to him. For the first time, Yoongi lets himself entertain the answer that’s been on his periphery since the beginning.

Everything.

With resolve tightening his chest even as the knowledge sparks a wave of worry in his gut, Yoongi clears his throat and looks up with the edge of a grin on his lips. He raises the glass in a mockery of salute to the others in the room.

“What do you think,” he asks calmly before taking a lingering sip, letting the warmth ease his awareness of just what the admission means.

He watches the slow blink Namjoon indulges in, catalogs the tightening of Hoseok’s mouth at the confirmation of what they’ve all been aware of since the upstart gang south of their territory tried to kidnap the boss’s boyfriend-- and, really, since the moment they saw Yoongi apologize to a college student who looked equal parts oblivious and exhausted as he’d unknowingly ruined a job they’d spent countless hours reconning when he’d blown their cover and almost run Yoongi over in his hurry to get to class one autumn afternoon.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, leaning forward. “What’s your plan?”

It’s been awhile since Yoongi last had a chance to show off. While he hates-- absolutely detests-- the reason for it now, he can’t deny the excitement curling at the edges of his conscious. He can privately acknowledge that, perhaps, he’s grown a little too complacent at the top. If a third-rate gang was able to get the drop on the most important person in Yoongi’s life than his next move had to be both dramatic and mercenary.

Standing up, he throws back the rest of the whiskey and sets the glass down with a dull thud. Flipping through his old-school Rolodex, he comes to a stop at a few entries into P and lets his finger run over a name he knows as well as Hoseok’s or Namjoon’s.

When he looks up, his friends, his seconds-in-command recognize the glint in his eye. This is the boss who dragged himself from the gutter to the best goddamn penthouse in Gangnam. This is the man who took a ragtag group of misfits and polished their rough edges until Seoul’s Elite were positively begging for their company.

This is Min Yoongi at his best, at his sharpest.

At his most lethal.

“First, you’ll bring me the men who thought they could lay hands on what’s mine,” Yoongi starts and Namjoon spares a moment to think, for the thousandth time, that he’s glad he’s always been on his hyung’s side. The look on his face would almost enough to chill him to the bone if he were still capable of it. “And they’ll learn why hens don’t hunt foxes. I’m sure Jimin won’t mind having a little fun tonight-- call him and let him know I have a job for him and I’ll triple his usual rate if he can have everything ready by sunset tomorrow.”

Stepping around his desk, Yoongi walks over to one of his bookshelves reaches for the safe, spinning the combination with casual grace. He pulls out a worn journal. Flipping it open, his eyes rake over the pages until he lands on the entry he’s been looking for. “Jin, that bastard, owes me a favor after I gave him that tip last month on the Mangjoul robberies. He’ll have warrants and half the department ready to raid every goddamn property they have in the city within twelve hours.”

Hoseok’s raises a brow. “No half measures then,” he drawls.

Yoongi’s head snaps up and Hoseok almost-- almost-- recoils at the look of absolute fury on his face.

“No, Hoseok-ah, no half-measures.” Yoongi replies evenly. “They didn’t hold back when they kidnapped Jungkook from his own goddamn apartment. They didn’t shy away from taking my fucking boyfriend, from laying their filthy fucking hands on him, from making him think for even a second that he wasn’t completely safe-- that I wouldn’t keep him safe at any and all costs.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath before some tension drops from his shoulders. He continues calmly, “First they’re going to lose but then, Hoseok, they’re going to burn. They’re going to burn until they’re nothing but ashes-- until just hearing the name of their pathetic little gang makes everyone run in the other direction because they don't want to risk my wrath. They bit off more than they could chew and I can’t wait to make them see what happens when they wake up the goddamn giant.”

There’s a beat of silence before Namjoon nods once. “What are you going to do? It’ll take time for Jimin to draft the plans and you said it yourself, Jin will be running around all day getting his men in place for a city-wide sting.”

Closing the book with a snap, Yoongi places it carefully back in the safe before closing the door. “I’m going to Jungkook.”

He turns around to see both Hoseok and Namjoon looking at him with blank expressions. He merely lifts a brow. “What,” he asks. “My boyfriend was fucking abducted this afternoon. I’ve tried my damnedest to keep him out of this world and I know he has to be more shaken up than he’s letting on. I need to comfort him.”

The unspoken I want to comfort him rings in the air.

Shaking his head, Hoseok studies Yoongi for a long moment. “There was a time you wouldn’t have stopped until you’d ran yourself into the ground. You would have destroyed everything that came after you and nearly yourself in the process.”

Yoongi shrugs. “There was a time I didn’t have Jungkook.”

Sighing, Namjoon stands up and walks over to Yoongi until he can clap a hand over his shoulder. “I might’ve tried to discourage your relationship in the beginning. Hell, I still had my doubts this morning, but I can’t deny that kid’s good for you, Hyung. He makes you human.”

Yoongi allows the hand on his shoulder to stay and stares at Namjoon silently for a long moment. “He makes me think that’s not bad, being human. I find myself unable-- and very much unwilling-- to lose that.”

Laughing dryly, Hoseok approaches the two of them and while his tone holds a gravitas appropriate for the situation, his eyes are lighter than they’ve been all night. “Go to him, then. Tell him we’ve got his back and hopefully the two of you can rest for a few fucking hours before everything explodes.”

Yoongi nods once, lets his mouth twist into a wry grin. “Literally.”

He walks out of his office to the sound of Jimin picking up Namjoon’s call. As he makes his way towards the stairs, he feels lighter than he’d imagine he could after this hell of a day.

Anticipation thrums under his skin and he feels the sweet release of vengeance lighting up his veins. He didn’t get to be the leader of the biggest gang in South Korea by resting on his laurels and while he’ll privately acknowledge that the gang taught him a valuable lesson, he can’t deny that he’s looking forward to meting out their punishment.

He’s dealt with things that wouldn’t be amiss in nightmares. He’s become a nightmare in his own right and he relishes the image, the rush of euphoria at the knowledge that in certain circles, his name is synonymous with the bogeyman.

It lingers in his periphery, that he might enjoy being the monster in the dark a little too much.

But, he thinks, as he opens the door to their bedroom, he’d become the devil himself if it meant keeping Jungkook with him.

His own Persephone, he thinks, and it makes his chest ache-- the absolute devotion he has to the man in his bed and the nonexistent limits that he’d go to in order to ensure he never left his side.

Knowing that he might be woken up at any moment, even if Hoseok and Namjoon are determined to see him rest, Yoongi doesn’t change out of his suit. He does shuck off his jacket, though, throwing it over the back of the chair he passes on his way to his bed.

Jungkook’s there, sleeping peacefully and Yoongi spares a moment-- a few moments-- to watch him in the sparse moonlight.

His breath stalls at the cut on his cheek, the dull bruising along his jaw. Clamping his teeth on a wave of rage so intense that his vision wavers, Yoongi’s hand is steady and gentle as he brushes the hair away from his boyfriend’s face.

No matter how gentle he thought he was being, though, it wakes Jungkook. “Hyung?”

Making a little noise of confirmation, Yoongi eases into the bed until he’s just in front of him, until he’d barely have to lean forward to kiss him. “It’s just me, Kook-ah. Go back to sleep, babe.”

His heart turns over as Jungkook seems to melt back into the sheets. Yoongi thinks he’s fallen back asleep until he’s startled by a surprisingly coherent voice asking, “You’re going to make them pay, aren’t you?”

A little taken aback, Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. He considers Jungkook in the low light as a dozen answers flit through his brain.

He considers deflecting, urging Jungkook to go back to sleep. There’s something about this moment, however, that makes him decide against it.

In the stillness of their bedroom where the smell of antiseptic is nauseatingly present, in the tone he detects in Jungkook’s voice-- surprisingly cold, a tremor of pleasure hiding underneath at the prospect-- Yoongi decides to bare it all.

Distantly, he thinks that this is the last thing he has to show Jungkook-- not just his world but the joy Yoongi takes in it, in his role in his kingdom of sorts. Because that’s what this is all about-- someone dared to come for him by way of Jungkook and the mere thought of anyone daring to get one over on him, on Min fucking Yoongi, is unconscionable. Yoongi is the king of this little corner of the world and he’ll retain his power through any means necessary.

He’s never minded dirtying his hands when it matters, takes vicious pride in the blood staining his hands like so much ichor.

It’s a test of sorts, he reckons, telling Jungkook the truth, revealing this one last area of his life, his soul, but whatever’s been holding him back for a year just seems to have disintegrated.

“Yeah, Jungkook. I’m going to make them pay,” he admits in a low voice.

He doesn’t expect Jungkook’s next question, tone harsh. “Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” he answers simply and hears his boyfriend’s sharp breath. He’s not backing away, though. There’s no sharp denial, no rebuttal, and emboldened, Yoongi leans forward until he’s pressing Jungkook onto his back, until he’s leaning over him, until he gets enough of this-- whatever this is.

Yoongi watches as Jungkook lets him move him, eyes trailing his throat as he swallows hard. There’s a glint in his eye that dares Yoongi to keep going.

So he does.

“Isn’t that right, Kook-ah,” Yoongi whispers against his ear and it’s heady, the rush he feels at Jungkook’s shiver, at the way he arches imperceptibly closer to Yoongi. “You’re mine. And nobody gets to touch what’s mine because I don’t play fair and I don’t share. You belong to me and it’s my job to protect you. I’m sorry I didn’t do that today, baby, but don’t worry. I’ll make it so that no one except me ever dares lay a finger on you again.”

“Good.”

Jungkook’s voice is raw but there’s a strength in it that Yoongi can’t help but admire. Jungkook isn’t running for the smelling salts-- he’s not running away from Yoongi-- and he vows right then and there that he’ll never let him go.

He leans into the hand that runs through his hair, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Yoongi almost doesn’t hear the words that are breathed against his neck but he does and his ribs ache at the sheer effort of keeping everything inside that he feels for the man next to him.

“You forgot something, though, Hyung.”

Humming noncommittally, Yoongi only opens his eyes when he feels the fingers in his hair tighten abruptly, pulling a sharp gasp from him. He meets Jungkook’s dark eyes, is greeted with his grin that’s just a little mean.

He lifts a brow expectantly, well aware that Jungkook sees under his impassive face to the excitement that’s sharpened his features just enough at the imperious treatment. “What did I forget, baby?”

“You belong to me, too.”

Yoongi laughs and it’s a little rough around the edges. His eyes bore into Jungkook’s for a moment that seems to freeze before he’s shaking his head slowly. “No,” he murmurs. “I’ve always known that.”

He has a brief moment to see Jungkook’s expression ease into it’s more familiar happiness, without the trace of darkness lingering around the edges, and then their lips meet in a kiss that’s a barely-hidden power play.

Yoongi is more than happy to admit that it’s a draw.

As he drifts off, Yoongi knows that tomorrow will be busy. He’ll have to coordinate his plan with all parties, execute his vengeance flawlessly in a manner only befitting a king of his stature. His hands already ache at the prospect of what he’ll have done by this time tomorrow, at the new blood that will seep into his skin as yet another badge of honor.

He’ll have Jungkook by his side, though, and the thought eases the monster in him, the insatiable beast that’s always craved more-- more money, more power, more everything.

He curls around Jungkook and dreams of blood.

#omg my first bts fic!! #how exciting!!! #bts fic #yoonkook #yoonkook fic #my writing #sugakookie fic #idk what to tag this as lol i'm trying my best #yoongi x jungkook

[boxdyed]

More Concept Playlists

+ You walk out of your shitty roadside motel room that you’ve been staying in since you ran away from home. It hasn’t been cleaned since the 50s but at least no one will find you out here, in the middle of the desert. You head towards the ice machine, but someone is already there. It’s the most popular girl in school, who you’ve had a crush on since 6th grade. She’s run away too.

+ You and your fed-up punk friends attempt to summon a demon at your all girls catholic boarding school, determined to wreck some wacky havoc on the oppressive staff. But the fun doesn't last long as you realize you have unleashed something far more sinister. Something that doesn't slam doors or break windows but drips deep into your psyche and reveals the meaning of pure evil.

+ The year is 1987, You’re part of a ragtag band of misfits that have been friends since childhood. All of you are gay, but no one has admitted it yet so rifts are forming in the gang. One summer morning you roller skate over to your best friend, the only other girl in the groups house to tell her you’re in love with her. Will it tear group apart once and for all or bring you back together?

+ You're 17 and in love with your manic pixie dream girl of a best friend. It's a wednesday night in early june and you can't sleep because all you can think about is her stupid perfect crooked smile and just when you think you can't stand it anymore you hear a tapping at your window. You open it and there she is, with that smile. She asks you if you want to go on an adventure. You've never wanted anything more.  

+ July is the season of rabid dogs. There's something about the constantness of the heat that drives spikes into the head. This year there's a new plague: the teenage girls. They are sick. The are restless. They are hungry. Their bare feet burn on the hot concrete but they won't stop until they have tasted the blood of every abusive man in town.

+  You and your closest friends sit on the roof of your suburban house watching the sunset. The crisp, nearly-autumn breeze blows against your oversized hoodie while you sip cheap, lukewarm beer from a paper bag. No one says anything, no one has to.

+ It’s 1:30 am and you’re driving out of the city with your girlfriend asleep in the passenger seat. there are lights glowing on the highway and in the city behind you but it feels like it's just the two of you, and you wish it could last forever

+ The year is 1975. The Russians went ahead and nuked us and well, just about everyone died. But don't worry! There were a few survivors. You and your gang find yourselves with the entirety of west Hollywood all to yourselves and nothing keeping you from the thousands of mansions and all the goodies they might hold

+ You’re on the road with a crappy RV you bought somewhere sketchy with your best friend and her dog on the trip of a lifetime trying to make it as a bluegrass singer. You fall in love over crumpled maps, roadside lemonade, campfire sing alongs, and grimy dive bars where you pay for meals by washing dishes.

+ You walk into your room, satin gown flowing in your wake,You dramatically collapse into a dark velvet chair as if the cameras are rolling. You put on a record and pour your fourth glass of red wine. Your fifth husband has mysteriously died, good thing he left everything to you in the will.

+ You’re at a Halloween party in the basement of a seedy punk club, so wasted you can’t see straight. The ground starts shaking. More than it was before, are you imagining it? No. The bands screaming has gone from angry to terrified. The apocalypse is happening right now.

+ You stand in front of the house at the edge of town. The house with boarded up windows. The house with broken glass in the yard instead of flowers, like everyone else in your small misty mountain town. The house no one talks about. The house you only go when you have nowhere else to go. You have someone to find in there, someone you need to bring home.

+ Is there any place better to dissociate than a roller rink?

+ Everything is perfect here. It's a nice cabin, tucked away in the depths of the Ozarks. The lake is right out back so she can swim whenever she wants. Swimming makes her happy. And all of this is to make her happy. This morning you wake up early to watch the sun rise over the water. It's a perfect morning for a perfect place, golden light seeping through everything. Highlighting orange starting to creep into the leaves. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s almost October. Yes, this place is perfect. But it's time to go home.

+ You’re a music producer who died overdosing on cocaine at a club in the 70s. You awaken in the exact spot you died in the year 2073. You’re hungry, thirsty, and hornier than you’ve ever been. But most importantly, you look as fly as you always have and you’re surrounded by beautiful women.

+ She’s an urban witch. A drugstore sorceress, mixing potions of Xanax and gasoline. Selling them on a street corner in the east village. No one knows her name, few know her face, But they say you’ll know her when you see her. You approach her on a chilled November night and offer a pack of cigarettes for a love potion. Hands shaking with anxiety and cold. She looks you in the eye and tells you you don’t need love potion. She’ll give you everything you want for free.

+ My boyfriend Oliver. I know this isn't a concept but he's super cute and i love him so let me live......DM me if you wanna see pics

+ You're driving through the depths of the Appalachian mountains on a foggy night. You see a dark figure with glowing eyes up ahead at the edge of your headlights and your heart stops beating. No. It can't be him…. He wasn't supposed to be able to find you all the way up here I. You get closer and your shoulders relax, It's just an old man. He smiles when you pass, his milky eyes reflecting back at you like stars. probably just a friendly local out for a late night stroll. You're safe. It's fine. Only 10 miles to go. Your engine dies the moment you realize that human eyes dont glow.

+ You’re a nerd, a nobody, the kid who sits by herself at lunch. The kid who never talks and never gets noticed by anyone. Yet here you are, dressed in your big sisters clothes, standing in the coolest girl in schools living room while a party rages around you. Tonight you’re going to be cool. Tonight you’re going to be the life of the party. Tonight she’s finally going to realize you exist. This is either the bravest thing you’ve ever done or the stupidest.

+ You’ve been climbing the mountain for three days and three nights. Out of food, out of water, and utterly, painfully alone. Just when you think you can walk no farther, you hear a waterfall in the distance. With your remaining ounce of strength you launch yourself the final few yards. You collapse to your knees and peer into the clear, cool water. But Instead of seeing your face your entire life is reflected back at you.

#concept playlist #TA DA! #I put all the ones from the last post on here too #because i updated them #so make sure you check those out too #im super proud of these! #pls reblog #they all slap #sapphic #wlw #lesbian #playlists #mixtape #jams #music

[themurphyzone]

104 Words for 104 Days: Advice

This was supposed to be a ficlet, but Stacy’s dialogue just ran away with me. This fic takes place after Tales of the Resistance, so Doofenshmirtz is no longer in jail. 

Candace Flynn dedicated her life to order and justice. She protected her brothers from the nefarious schemes of the Doofenshmirtz family. She led a group of rebels, knew seventy-five ways to disarm Normbots, and served as a beacon of hope in the chaos of dystopian Danville.

And now here she was, willingly breaking several laws of physics in order to satisfy her own selfish whims.

Since it took an enormous amount of power to travel counterclockwise between dimensions, Isabella and the Firestorm Girls could only perform three reconnaissance missions into the Prime Dimension, but the information they brought back was invaluable.

“We’ve scoped out prime counterpart Candace Gertrude Flynn. She’s in the sophomore class at Danville High School,” Isabella reported. “Associates include prime counterparts Stacy Hirano, Jenny Brown, and Jeremy Johnson.

“Don’t use my middle name under any capacity, Isabella,” Candace commanded as she tugged on a denim jacket.

It felt restricting, but it was necessary. Her normal outfit would be considered a violation of the dress code, and she needed to blend in while talking to the other Candace.

“Of course, Commander,” Isabella replied coolly. “Recon suggests catching Prime Candace between 1:30 and 2:00 pm. She typically excuses herself from class in Room 217 and goes to the large window at the end of the second floor corridor to watch the nearby elementary school for her brothers’ activity. Her associates don’t accompany her on these outings.”

“Good,” Candace said. She glanced in a nearby mirror, making sure the black dye completely covered any sign of her natural hair color. Dyeing hair was something she couldn’t do under Doofenshmirtz’s reign. She’d been meaning to experiment with different colors in her minimal spare time.

“Be careful,” Isabella cautioned.

“I won’t compromise anything except the power grid,” Candace replied.

Five minutes later, Baljeet finished the usual safety checks and opened the portal, which opened in the middle of an empty girl’s bathroom.

Buford and Baljeet let out high-pitched shrieks and dove under the desk.

Candace rolled her eyes. Those two were the perfect brains and brawn team, and Candace had witnessed them tear apart a Normbots factory with nothing but a paperclip and a yardstick, but they couldn’t handle the sight of a girl’s bathroom.

“Isabella and Gretchen. Since those two are…temporarily indisposed…can I trust you to man the controls in the meantime?” Candace asked as she stepped through the portal.

Isabella and Gretchen nodded, the portal fizzling out just as the door opened. Candace immediately dropped into a crouch, regretting that she’d left her bo staff behind.

The newcomer wore a bright blue blouse with a matching skirt, so unlike the dull gray and black outfits of Candace’s home dimension. Candace’s finely-tuned senses screamed at the unnaturalness of this world.

Thanks to the recon team, Candace already knew the girl was another version of Stacy Hirano. Horror slowly dawned Stacy’s face, and she let out a shriek. “Do you have any idea how dirty those floors are? Have you never been inside a high school restroom before?”

Candace never felt the need to step foot inside the rebuilt high school, but she didn’t entertain that with a reply. She stood up, quickly rinsing her hands in a nearby sink.

“Trust me, you don’t want germs all over your denim jacket. It’s cute in a 90s-early 2000s teen way,” Stacy explained as she stopped in front of a restroom stall. Instead of going in, she took out a sharpened pencil and examined the stall door. “Ugh, Mandy’s dating Carlos again. This is the third time they’ve gotten back together this month! When’s that girl gonna learn?”

She scrawled a message under a large pink heart with C + J in the middle of it.

Candace felt her cheeks heat up. Her counterpart had no subtlety whatsoever.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” Stacy commented, finishing her message. “What’s your name?”

“Don’t you have class or somewhere to be?” Candace deflected.

Stacy shrugged. “Free period.”

“Fine. It’s…Gertrude,” Candace cursed inwardly, wondering why that was the first thing that popped in her head. A whole sea of false names she could’ve given, and it had to be her embarrassing middle name!

“Gertrude?” Stacy gave her an appraising look. “Funny. The only person I’ve known with that name is Candace.”

Candace grimaced when Stacy circled her, inspecting her disguise more closely. Maybe she’d banked on Stacy’s ditziness a little too much.

“Wait a sec, I know that neck!” Stacy gasped. “Candace, seriously! You really think I wouldn’t recognize my BFF? Though I don’t know if that hair dye is working out for you. I always thought you’d be better off with brown highlights.”

“It’s a disguise,” Candace said, in the most no-nonsense tone she could muster. “I’m from a different dimension. I didn’t get to do whatever normal teenagers do because I was too busy with the Resistance.”

Stacy blinked. “Resistance? Like against a dictator?”

Candace kept her mouth shut, deciding she’d better not give more information that wasn’t pertinent to her mission.

“So you’re like the YA version of Candace?”

Candace gave her a blank look.

Stacy shrugged. “You know, YA? Young adult genre where a clumsy teenage girl leads a ragtag group of misfits against a dystopian government and angsts about a love triangle with her childhood bestie and a mysterious bad boy she doesn’t know very well?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Candace said. “All books except badly written autobiographies about the dictator were banned.”

Stacy grimaced. “Sheesh. That stinks. Not even a fashion magazine?”

Candace shrugged. “No, but that’s life. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go ask my counterpart about her Jeremy Johnson.”

“Probably not the best idea,” Stacy said. “If my Candace figured out you were another version of her, she’d blame her brothers and drag you off to her mom. Then you’ll disappear or get transported elsewhere. You don’t want that.”

“Her mom makes people disappear?” Candace asked, wondering how her recon team could’ve possibly missed that detail.

Stacy shrugged. “Not her mom, really. More like random green laser beams from the sky. They always happen when Candace tries to bust her brothers. But hey, I’d be more than happy to share what I know. Candace and I were best friends since elementary school. I promise I won’t tell her about you.”

The Stacy Hirano of Candace’s dimension usually coordinated supplies between Resistance bases. She didn’t lead from the front like Candace. They cooperated when necessary, but they weren’t nearly as close as these versions of Candace and Stacy.

“You will answer all questions to the best of your ability,” Candace said.

“You don’t need to treat this like an interrogation. Relax a little,” Stacy sighed. “Oh, who am I kidding? You wouldn’t be Candace Flynn if you were relaxed.”

“Alright, Hirano. First question. Why is your Jeremy attracted to Candace?”

Stacy scuffed the tile with her shoe, as if she hadn’t been expecting the question. Well, she should’ve known what she was getting into. “Starting with the loaded topic, huh? Sorry, I was expecting you to ask me about how they met or what they like or something simple like that.”

“I’m not moving to the next question until you answer.”

“Fine. I guess Jeremy likes her determination. Candace hasn’t succeeded in busting her brothers yet, but she’s always willing to try another method. She doesn’t let anything stop her either.”

Determination. Like how she’d been determined to overthrow Doofenshmirtz to create a world where her brothers could grow up peacefully and not have to give up their childhood whims.

“And he doesn’t mind her busting her brothers?”

The Doofenshmirtz family was still out there somewhere. What if they attacked while she was with Jeremy and neglecting her duties? Would Jeremy mind if she rushed off to thwart them?

“She’s always leaving in the middle of dates for busting purposes,” Stacy shrugged. “Jeremy’s pretty chill about it, as far as I know. He knows how much Phineas and Ferb mean to her. They even helped him cheat at a dance competition so he could impress her. Personally I found it a little freaky, but I guess love is a little blind to that sort of thing.”

Candace wasn’t sure about introducing Jeremy to Phineas and Ferb though. It was a big risk if Jeremy ever got captured. But at the same time, she could potentially entrust her brothers to someone else in an emergency. Isabella was a good lieutenant, but Jeremy had years of experience on her.

“Candace crushed on Jeremy since seventh grade. It took a lot of time and courage for her to take the next step,” Stacy said. “With a lot of pushing from me.”

“So you think I just need to have some courage and talk to him?” Candace asked. “Then what was the point of diverting the city’s power to open a portal and spy on you people to catch my counterpart at a good time?”

Suddenly her plan seemed ridiculous in hindsight. And she thought she was pretty good at planning missions.

To her credit, Stacy didn’t seem fazed about Candace spying on her. “I’ve read enough YA novels to know overthrowing dictators is easy for teenage girls. Boys are a different story. And it figures you wouldn’t do the simple thing and make a ridiculously complicated plan instead.”

“You got me there,” Candace admitted.

“So how’s the fashion in your dimension?” Stacy asked, switching topics so abruptly that Candace was caught off guard.

But only for a moment. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun. Candace began describing Dooferalls, much to Stacy’s growing horror.

Stacy was so revolted she ducked into a bathroom stall and begged Candace not to say anymore. Candace couldn’t help but laugh, even as the portal to her dimension reopened.

Realizing Isabella and the Firestorm Girls were staring, Candace quickly schooled her expression into her usual look of indifference. “Thank you for your help,” Candace said over her shoulder. “I have to go now. Remember to keep this a secret.”

“YOU BURDENED ME WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF DOOFERALLS!” Stacy screeched back.

The portal closed.

“Baljeet, dismantle the portal tech,” Candace ordered. “Our recon missions into that dimension are finished.”

“Did you find the other Candace?” Isabella asked.

“Not exactly. I talked to Stacy Hirano though. She gave some good advice,” Candace admitted. “Isabella, can I leave you to run a patrol around downtown tomorrow? I want to meet with Jeremy at the park.”

“You can count on me!” Isabella exclaimed.

“Excellent,” Candace said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

She dialed Jeremy’s number, feeling more confidence in leading a normal life than ever before.

#104 words for 104 days #more of a oneshot than a ficlet #phineas and ferb #post 2nd dimension and tales of the resistance #2nd dimension candace #stacy hirano #mentions of jeremy

[redsdawn]

( jessica chastain. forty. cis female. she/her. ) in stratford, dawn wright  is more commonly known as red. they’ve been living in stratford for thirty years and currently work as a nurse. some say they are malapert  & rancorous but i’m more inclined to believe those that say they’re ballsy  & dependable. if you walk by their house, you can sometimes hear cloudbusting by kate bush playing from their window. ( the sting of comments better left unsaid, driving with the windows down, subjecting oneself to the unknown, and never knowing when to stop. ) 

hello, all! i’m dee, your local goblin whose hands are shaking as they type this! :-) i hope everyone’s having a good evening / morning / day. here’s to writing some good shit together! 

disclaimer: i have dawn’s stats here, which hopefully gives you all the need-to-know info at a glance. the second section has death & suicide mentions, so please steer clear of that if need be. 

if dawn is anything, it’s restless. she’s always felt like a bird about to take flight, or like she’s looming on the edge of some great cliff. it’s like some current flowing through her bones, or some itch that can’t be scratched. she yearns for more & hates that nothing is ever wholly enough for her. 

dawn grew up trailer trash & she still was trailer trash when she moved to stratford after the death of her mother. her dad, nathaniel, was a drunken tradesman who'd never known what to do with the life he’d been given. he was hardly a father when diane was around & even less so after her passing. despite their blood relation, however, he & dawn were more akin to roommates than anything else. nathaniel provided the “essentials” [ bits of clothes every couple of months, piss-poor cooking, a place to sleep ] and little else. he wasn’t warm or particularly kind--not like he was to the girlfriends that’d come in and out of their lives. he didn’t know how to speak to children or how to be the mentor that dawn needed. he’d tried, but it wasn’t like dawn knew how to be the daughter he’d wanted either. she wasn’t diane. she wasn’t warm, obedient, and kind. she was gritty & spoke back, even when it wasn’t smart to. 

growing up, dawn was hardly ever home. a majority of her adolescence was spent being a wild cat. as a kid, she’d get up to shenanigans with other kids from school or the neighborhood. she was a tomboy through-and-through, covered in various scars and bruises from climbing & doing things she shouldn’t have. she was an okay student, but her report cards always made a note to mention attention + behavioral issues.

as a teenager, she was even worse. it was then that she learned the careful craft of chasing cheap thrills. always slipping from crowd to crowd, dawn was a social butterfly. she’d slip her way into any group that would have her, reveling in any and all attention cast her way. 

dawn was poor-poor. like, having frequent sleepovers at friends houses, because you want an actual real meal levels of poor. 

above all, dawn’s childhood taught her how to be hungry & that feeling’s never left her.

it was a particularly persistent set of teachers that really pushed dawn to be more than what she was setting herself up for. her chemistry teacher really made a point to speak to her in frank terms + helped her fill out college application forms when that time of year came around. at the time, dawn had brushed it off, as she did with most things, but she’s always been grateful. it was nice to feel seen for once. she kept in touch & got their recommendation when admissions opened up for nursing school. 

going to college & being in a new environment really forced dawn to get it together. she couldn’t just be a little shithead anymore--she had actual responsibilities & appearances now. she mellowed out some afterward, doing everything that she thought people were supposed to do. she got her own place, paid her bills, & worked like she actually cared about what she was doing--which she did, for once. 

somewhere along the way, getting stuck in that grind & facing the fears that rose from losing her father started to really get to her. that restlessness had come back in full force, & dawn didn’t know how to handle it. she fell into a bit of a destructive rut that resembled that of her teenage years, and sought help only when her boss gave her an ultimatum. she’s better now, but not quite how she was. 

dawn is unflinching. it’s extremely hard to unsettle her. are your guts falling out? is someone throwing shit + breaking chairs? is there a literal fire happening? well, you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at dawn. she loves fixing things & finds it really easy to keep a cool head when shit hits the fan. she’s focused & nonjudgemental. she won’t question why you look like shit or why she has to stitch up a stab wound. 

dawn yearns to feel needed & is uncomfortable when she isn’t. that want is what fuels her friendliness. she wants to be in a group, she wants to be something to someone. she goes out of her way for others not out of an innate altruism, but as a result of her deliberate choice to be good. she wants people to feel that she cares for them, so they may in turn care for her, too. 

that being said, dawn’s decision-making isn’t immaculate. she has a blinding rage that’s a blight on her progress. it’s regressive & ugly & irresistible. dawn takes things too far sometimes & keeps pushing. she digs her fingers into wounds she knows are fresh & always keeps her knives close. she’s capable of a lot of good and love, but she’s also capable of a very white-hot rage. 

some random bits are that dawn is a karaoke queen. she’s a heavy-weight, but doesn’t like alcohol. she’s an excellent hugger. she has an excellent memory & remembers the little things that people tell her. terrible at accepting gifts. she takes life one day at a time. total chatterbox. thinks she has a great pokerface, but her eyes are a straight window to that which lies behind. she’s definitely not a very good driver. writes notes on her hands and wrists. 

some songs that make me think of her are

rock city

i bet on losing dogs

disorder

hounds of love

some wanted connection ideas !

a childhood memory -- maybe these two were a couple of ragtag misfits up to no good. maybe your muse’s parents felt bad for dawn, and would invite her over for dinner, regardless of how your muse felt about it. maybe they grew up in the same trailer park. maybe your muse’s mom dated her dad at one point. idk!! 

teenage escapades -- did they used to drive around without a care in the world, swearing they were gonna live forever? did they try to use their fake id’s to buy cheap liquor & then haul ass after the cashier wasn’t having it? did dawn manage to weasel her way into your muse’s life & fuck it up somehow? 

it’s a sibling thing -- are they related? no. does that stop them from acting like actual siblings? also no. dawn would do anything for this person, including, but not limited to, annoying them to death. silly, serious, and self-less. 

frenemies -- they say you should keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. either way, these two are relatively close. do they even remember why they sometimes-kind-of-but-not-really-but-also-kind-of hate each other? maybe, maybe not.

best buds -- everyone needs a best friend &, believe it or not, dawn has a lot of love to give. being her best friend includes unlimited venting sessions, on-call assistance, & free snacks. truly a once in a lifetime deal.

playing doctor -- listen, dawn doesn’t wear those scrubs because she thinks they’re sexy. she knows her shit & who else are you going to call at ass o’clock because you’re bleeding all over your carpet floor? besides, at least when you call her, you don’t get reamed with a 2k bill after.

we don’t talk about that -- sometimes, dawn is off being a lovey-dovey bitch, which is embarrassing, but when she’s not? well.. she wouldn’t be opposed to a rebound, or one night stands that maybe never should have happened to begin with. 

BUT REALLY I’M DOWN FOR ANYTHING AND THIS IS ALREADY SO DANG LONG SO IM GONNA END IT HERE AND SAY THAT ILY AND WANT TO DO ALL OF THE PLOTS WITH EVERYONE THANK U BYE SMOOCHES

#rideintro #this was so long i . pls forgive me #i have Thoughts sometimes i guess ! #also im not proof-reading this. if i sound illiterate then i sound illiterate & thts THAT!

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 15

15. can’t buy happiness

Chapter Summary: Elektra’s record deal brings a windfall of cash into the lives of the band members, and as a former runaway, Lola’s not sure what to do with her newfound, legitimate salary. tommy moves in, the band meets doc, and they make it clear that lola’s staying on as part of the team. vince and lola have a moment that turns into a night which ends up interrupted by tommy but it all works out.

Warnings: drug use, drinking, implied/referenced nsfw, some violence, it’s 7am and this is super all over the place im so sorry omg. also this ABSOLUTELY follows the movie and not the book/real life

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove​ @antisocialfictionhoe​ @obsessivesky​ @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite​​ @colsons-crue​ @marvelismylifffe​ @lilytalebi​ @glitterdreamsz​ @freddiessmallnipples​ @crazysaladchopshop​ @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies​ @dramatique-moi​ @missqueeniewrites @calspixie​ @aryssav​ @catsoo12​ @sweetshutter​ @silvertonguedserpent​ @shamelessobsessions​ @lavenderbones22​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​ @scarecrowmax​ @nicholeh7​

{masterlist}

With the record deal comes cash, more of it than Lola had ever really considered in her life, and she suddenly feels like a kid again; uncertain, worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The others aren't like that, obviously, taking the opportunity to party as hard as they physically can between gigs, but most of her money goes into rent, bills, and fuelling her various drug and alcohol problems. Anything she couldn't afford, or anything she wanted that wasn't some sort of consumable, she usually stole or found on the street. Before Nikki, before the group home, she'd never had money of her own, any she would earn would be taken from her and "put into a college fund, so she could grow up and make dad proud" at least, that's what her mom told her. She had no idea where any of that money was now.

The point is, the band now had a payroll, and she was at the top of it, being paid an exorbitant amount for basically doing the same thing she'd been doing for the past few months. She kept most of it in a secure location in cash, having never been properly taught about basic adult tasks, like opening a bank account, but it worked for her, for now.

But, in all honesty, living with Nikki and Vince meant she actually didn't want for much. Clothes around the apartment were mostly communal property, apart from pants, which due to Lola's hips and thighs, and Nikki's height, meant they were the only items that weren't interchangeable between the three of them. Not long after, Nikki asks Tommy to move in, cites that they can afford half decent mattresses, and it would mean he could move out of his parents' house; he couldn't agree fast enough.

"Is it- you know, is it weird?" Lola overhears Tommy talking with Vince during practice, the two taking a smoke break out the front, looking out at the Strip as they leaned against the railing. The window's open and Lola's picking up bottles from around the apartment in preparation for the party that night, but she stops. They don't see her, neither of them looking out at the city, but she's worried that Tommy's going to be scared off before he even moves all of his shit in.

"What do you mean?" Vince asks, and Tommy just makes a vague noise that makes Vince laugh. "Lola? Do you mean 'cos of Lola?"

"Yeah, like isn't it weird, with her and Nikki, and you know," Tommy trails off, a little self consciously. It doesn't seem to bother the blonde, however, who hums for a moment.

"Dude, it's the same as not living here, 'long as you aren't the jealous type, you know?" Vince's grin was clear in his words, and Tommy huffed out a laugh, "go with the flow, you'll live longer." Vince claps him on the shoulder and Lola breathes a sigh of relief she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

Tommy adapts to their terrible, roach infested apartment fast, and for that Lola is grateful. She'd been worried, though she needn't have been.

"Dude, you don't work, why've you gotta leave?" He whines, his face pressed into her chest where she's sitting on his lap on the sofa, her duffel bag on her shoulder. Lola laughed, running her fingers through his hair, pulling back. When he looks up at her, his smile is sharp but there's something strangely soft shining in his eyes.

"So I can lift a quad box on my own," she murmured, and Tommy hummed appreciatively at the mental image, his hands sliding over the shiny material of her tights on her thighs. "I can already haul you dumbasses around and make it look easy," she smirked, "I need a challenge."

Tommy takes that as a challenge unto himself, and seems to make it hid personal mission in life to ride around on Lola's shoulders whenever the opportunity presented itself. His favourite was after gigs, at the bar, drunk and elated and on top of the world. Lola's a good base for stunts like this, and, not that she'll admit it out loud, enamoured enough with Tommy that she doesn't complain. Sometimes some of the other groupies at the bar, pretty waifish girls who cling to the band, give her dirty, confused looks, but she doesn't care. For the moment, she's thankful for her broad shoulders, thick thighs, and stocky build; Tommy tends to squirm, even if he doesn't mean to, but Lola finds it easy to keep him balanced.

There's parties at their house almost every night now; if it's not a party, it's practice, and they're in the recording studio every few days working on recording their first album. And Lola's there for all of it.

There's a hierarchy amongst the groupies of the Strip; girls who dated band members were at the top of the list, followed by girls who would see every show they could, followed by the more casual groupies, and Lola's always been in a sort of weird, grey area as she works with the bands, she's more in a league of her own. But there's no denying that with Motley Crue's success, and the nature of her relationship with them, Lola's found herself at the top of the hierarchy without even trying.

Beyond, she also gets along well with Zutaut; he respects her work ethic, and has a surprising penchant for partying, or at least, he seems to spend a fair amount of time at the parties the band held at their apartment. Lola blooms at parties. She's a hostess when she wants to be, not proud of the grubby, cramped apartment, but proud of herself, her boys, and the people they have in attendance. Mostly.

"Lola, baby," Vince catches her hand as she's making her way to the kitchen to grab a new drink for herself, and David Lee Roth, who'd taken up residence on their sofa for the night, her smile is bright, and she lets herself get pulled back to the table where the rest of the band had gathered, "you want a bump?" He asks, nudging Nikki who was cutting up lines of coke on a cymbal as they spoke. Lola hummed, deliberated for half a moment before she sat herself in Vince's lap, taking the cymbal as it was offered.

"Always," she grinned, making short work of the coke. She passes the cymbal back, trying to get back to her original task after giving him a quick kiss.

"You're always rushin' off," he mused, and Lola gave a small smile, getting to her feet.

"'cos I've got people to entertain, ass to kiss, I see you lot every day," her smile turns a little pleased, a little catty, "excuse me if I don't turn down a request from Diamond Dave."

As it turns out, she doesn't have time to even get back to the Van Halen singer before some random asshole tries to score a hit from the band, before Mick shoves him out of the way. The man, who's relatively wasted already, crashes into the wall, into the nice, ornate mirror that Lola had fished out of a dumpster a few months ago, knocking it off the wall and shattering it over Dave's head. He seems unperturbed, merely picking glass from his hair, but the rest of Motley Crue are on their feet in moments.

"Chill out, asshole, it's cool," the guy slurs, stumbling to his feet as Nikki's already yelling at him. Lola carefully puts both drinks she'd collected onto their table, slotting herself in to stand between Vince and Tommy, her expression cold; the hostess in her had left, only to be replaced with the security detail in her.

"Cool?" Nikki snarled, "that is David Lee Roth; how about you show a little respect or get the fuck out." He demanded, practically towering over the other man, who seemed high or drunk enough to not be intimidated.

"Make me, motherfucker," the man snapped, shoving Nikki, who went stumbling back. Lola's ready to vault the table, or at the very least, step around Vince, but she doesn't seem to need to, as a stocky man who looks out of place steps up and punches the other man in the face, pinning him with a foot on his neck, holding the man's hand behind his back. Lola feels a rush of respect towards this newcomer. He smiles at the bewildered faces of the band members, his eyes bright.

"You fellas are gonna need a manager." He grins, much to the confusion of the others, before he nods at the glass covered musician on the sofa, nodding in familiarity, "hey, Dave."

"What's everybody looking at?" He mutters in response, and the tension breaks, the rest of the party goers laugh and go back to their own conversations. Lola ferries Dave his drink and he thanks her with a half smile, but her mind's too focused on getting the rowdy drunkard from her house.

"Oh, good, you met Doc," Zutaut tells them with his trademark, nervous enthusiasm, shouldering his way through the crowd to the scene of the commotion.

"I can take it from here," Lola gestures to the man on the floor, and Doc raises an eyebrow at her. He gives her a quick look over and hands over the other man's raised hand, stepping back.

"He works with James Brown, Kiss, you name it," Zutaut's still smiling, clapping Doc on the shoulder, despite the way Mick's expression is souring.

"Fuckin' hate Kiss."

Lola yanks the man to his feet, misses most of the rest of their exchange as she holds both his arms behind his back with one hand, holding his collar with the other as she pushes him to the door. He's yelling, slurring, hollering at her for having the gall to try and kick him out. He wriggles, tries his hardest to break her grip, even as she's shoving him out of their window onto the landing outside.

"If you don't shut the fuck up," Lola grunted, expression twisted into something resembling disgust as she had her hands on the man's ass, pushing roughly as he refused to go willingly through the window, "I'm gonna knock you the fuck out, and drag you down the stairs myself, you'll wake up in a dumpster and I'll be-" with a final shove, he was finally through. Landing face first, he scrambles to his feet, trying to get back in, but Lola's already climbed out after him, "laughing." She breathes after the exertion of getting him out, "I'll be laughing."

"Fuck you." He slurs, stumbling. It's all too easy for Lola to simply grab one of his wrists and start to drag him down the stairs. He's too focused on not falling down the stairs at the pace she's setting to try and attack or break free. He's still mumbling curses, but he's already seemed to have forgotten why he was angry by the time she's got him back on the footpath outside of the building. Turning him to face her, she holds him by the shoulders, looking him very seriously in the eye.

"If you come back here, I'm gonna cut you with part of that mirror you broke," she tells him, voice level and matter-of-fact. He blinks, frowns, hiccups. She has a whole rant planned out in her head, but it would be wasted on him. Instead, she spins him around three times to disorientate him, and sends him off down the sidewalk. He's got no fight left in him, thankfully, and he seems happy to trail away.

Lola groans and heads back to the party.

"I spent years trying to find a good, gold-edged mirror," she groans once she's back inside apartment, draping herself over Nikki where he's sat back at the table, resting her chin on top of his head. She's interrupting a conversation with Doc, but she can't bring herself to care.

"And this is -?" Doc gestures to a now pouting Lola. She's leaning heavily against him, her arms wrapped loosely around him. One of Nikki's hands finds hers, without even breaking eye contact with Doc, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist.

"Lola Gone; she's our security detail." Nikki's voice doesn't leave room for argument, but Lola's expression is smug when Doc's gaze flicks to it.

"Our roadie, too," Mick chimes in, before taking a sip from his beer, his tone just as resolute as Nikki's.

"Best roadie in LA," Tommy adds, inclining both his head and his drink towards Lola, and her smile softens a little at that.

"Yeah, she's the one I was telling you about over the phone; the assistant," they all hear it when Zutaut leans over to mutter to Doc, and the manager nodded seriously for a moment, considering her. He wasn't frowning, just... contemplative.

"She's pretty integral to this whole thing, man," Vince fills in the dead air, and then all four members of Motley Crue, and Lola herself, were all staring down Zutaut and Doc.

"If she's what's been keeping the wheels turning, show-to-show, I wouldn't dream of getting rid of her," Doc smiles a carefully cultivated, show business smile, and Lola gave him her snake charmer smile in return, all teeth and the promise of a bigger bite. "You'll have to excuse me, Miss Gone, I'm not personally acquainted with your work, but I suppose I should have recognised you; your reputation precedes you." And Lola's not quite sure how to take that. Raising an eyebrow, she watches Doc's lips quirk into the barest smile, and he doesn't elaborate, but he compliments her on how well she was able to deal with the guy who broke the mirror.

Lola leaves them to it after that, grabs her now lukewarm drink and sweetly asks for a seat by Diamond Dave; the groupie who's curled herself up by him takes one look at Lola and moves, taking a seat on Dave's other side, on the arm of the sofa, making room for Lola. Lola gives the girls a sweet smile, holding out her hand for the girl, and when the girl takes it, Lola presses a kiss to the back of her hand, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

"Thank you, babe," Lola tells her, as sincerely as she can manage, before dropping her hand and nudging Dave's shoulder gently, "she's so sweet, isn't she?" She asks him pointedly. He looks up from the photoframe from which he was snorting up coke, passing it to Lola before looking up at the now flustered groupie. "Cute, too," Lola mentions with absolutely no tact, before doing a line, but he's not picky, and the groupie was quickly turning red.

She knows she has a chance if she wants to get in with the both of them, or whoever Dave ends up with, but her heart's not in it. She stays where she is for the moment because he's got some incredibly high quality blow, but her mind keeps playing the band's words over in her head; they may have overstated how valuable to the process overall - technically any roadie could do her job, just less efficiently - but it makes her feel strangely warm. Pleased.

Vince catches her smiling to herself, bopping along to music filtering in from the record player as she weaves in between people, trying to get to the fridge, and he smiles back at her when her gaze meets his. It's fond and kind in equal measure. Zutaut and Doc have dispersed into the crowd, and Tommy and Nikki are excitedly babbling over each other across Vince, and Mick's probably gone to lie down.

But Vince is watching Lola as she's dancing along to David Bowie, and he can't stop smiling.

"You guys like having me around," Lola laughed, low and a little awed, leaning against the railing on the landing outside. Vince holds out his lighter, lights the cigarette that's poised between her lips, and smirks. Before he can even begin to tease her for her terribly worded thought, she waived him off, clarifying, "like I know you guys like me, but like, it's nice to hear, you know?" Her smile was so pleased it almost bordered on smug and she pushed herself off the railing, stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around him. "Integral," she murmured, a teasing edge to her words, "where'd you learn a ten dollar word like that?"

"I could take it back," Vince raised his eyebrows at her, though he's pulling her closer, "go back in there, tell Doc you're a dime-a-dozen." But Lola doesn't seem perturbed by his obvious bluff, in fact, she's smiling like the cat who got the cream.

"But you wouldn't," she practically sang, though her voice was barely louder than a murmur, "you wanna keep me around and I'm not letting you take that back."

There's a moment where his expression softens; he's endeared by her cockiness, a fact of which she is well aware, but he can't help the way he smiles at her sometimes. Or perhaps it's that he knows she turned down a shot with David Lee Roth; it doesn't really matter if it was for anyone else specifically, she's with him here and now.

"Wouldn't want to, even if I could." Sometimes he's a sap, knows exactly what to say, how to push her buttons, but it's never malicious; he likes the way she smiles, the way she kisses him, the way she pulls him close. It's clear she's proud, it manages to bleed through in all her actions though she doesn't say it; she's reverential in the way she treats him, starry-eyed and adoring.

The only problem comes in the shape of Tommy, stumbling into the room, practically incoherent as the party's winding down. It's well past two and Lola and Vince were actually almost asleep.

"Did I-" Tommy hummed for a moment, before yawning loudly, "interrupt?" He was already struggling to pull off his leather pants, his shirt having been lost sometime earlier, as it was want to do.

"Just trying to get to sleep, dude," Vince hummed, tucking his face into the crook of Lola's neck, his chest pressed to her back. Lola yawned, her eyes staying firmly closed. They, however, did not stay this way, as a mostly pantless Tommy managed to bipass his own bed in the struggle with his pants, and fall directly on top of the pair. He lands with an 'oof' with his pants caught on the heel of one foot.

"Sorry."

Lola grumbles and Vince hits him on the back of the head, but Tommy doesn't move from the bed, just sits up and pulls off his pants with one final tug, before laying back down, this time beside them. Silence, very awkward silence, fills the room.

"You're in the wrong bed, Tommy," Vince tells him very pointedly. Tommy sighs and swears, but just shifts a little, as if getting more comfortable.

"How come your sheets are nicer than mine?"

"Because I paid top fuckin' dollar for these sheets the minute I could afford them," Vince informs him with a sigh. Lola hums, but reaches out, resting her hand on his hip, fingertips gently brushing circles against the bare skin of his upper thigh. Even in underwear he was still more decent than either Lola or Vince, who just had the blanket for modesty.

"Dude, you know we were fucking, right?" Lola asks, biting back a laugh. Tommy sighs.

"Yeah," he contemplates for a moment, "I should move, shouldn't I?" But he didn't. Instead, he shuffled back. "Is it weird if I stay?"

"At this point nothing's weird," Vince snickered, "I've seen you do some fucked up shit, man, and I'm too tired for it to be weird." He admitted, and Tommy let out a triumphant laugh.

"Oh, fuck that is too true, man; fuck this band is awesome," the grin is clear in his words, though neither of the other two can quite decipher exactly what he means by that, but then he's pulling the blanket up over himself, letting Lola pull him close.

"I mean, it's a bit weird, but that's mainly because you're still wearing socks," Lola tells him, and automatically Tommy starts wriggling, trying to pull at his socks, "now- oof, god why is your ass so bony? - you're making it weird, dude, leave it." Lola half laughs, pulling him back to her, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade, as Tommy tries to apologise for his socks, "just shut up and be the little spoon."

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #Vince Neil #Tommy Lee #vince neil imagine #tommy lee imagine #Motley Crue #motley crue imagine #The Dirt #the dirt imagine #platinum fic #the angry lizard writes

[princessamericachavez]

FJORD’S PLAYLIST

Welcome to my overthinking where I literally meta over meta. Because what else am I supposed to do when Travis gives me such a good Fjord playlist to freak out over. 

So, y’know, meta under the cut. Here we go:

1. Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea by Missio

Panic. Confusion. The cold, dark and salty depths with no end in sight. And then light — but, how? Fjord shouldn’t be here. What is he forgetting? No time to ponder or fight something that seems to have a plan of its own.

I FEEL LIKE FJORD’S DROWNING WAS WAAAAY MORE TRAUMATIC THAN WE AS A FANDOM ACKNOWLEDGE, OKAY?

Like, way way waaaaay more horrifying than just “I passed out and woke up in the beach with cool new powers” and more “I think I literally died.”

The berth surrounding my body crushing every bit of bone The salt, it seeps in through the pores of my open skin I wait on you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea I wait on you inside the bottom of the deep blue

Fjord shouldn’t be here. How many times do you think he’s thought that? Not only the fact that he should, by all accounts, be dead, but that out of his whole crew why would he get to live while everyone else is lost and gone. 

Fjord has some fucking deep survivor’s guilt, y’all. I’m telling you. 

2. The Funeral by Band of Horses

Things seem the same – but where is Vandran? Who will guide Fjord now? One thing is for sure, the Fjord he was before is dead and gone. Bury the pain and live on.

AGAIN, I FEEL LIKE WE AS A FANDOM DON’T ACKNOWLEDGE ENOUGH HOW FREAKING LOST FJORD IS WITHOUT VANDRAN. (i will never get used to that freaking spelling but I guess it’s the official so fine)

He was Fjord’s mentor, father figure and overall savior. He’s the person who made the difference in his life, who pulled him out of what seems like hell and gave him a purpose and sense of self. Losing that is no small deal, and I think a lot of his actions in the past several episodes have been guided by that pain and that need to find out at least what happened to him and who this man was before they met. 

To the outside the dead leaves, they're on the lawn Before they died, had trees to hang their hope

He didn’t even get to give Vandran a proper funeral or goodbye, y’all.

Fjord’s whole arc is just one last desperate attempt to connect to Vandran, to feel like he maybe hasn’t lost him entirely (probably the reason Jester keeps bringing him up, too; she knows Fjord the best and probably understand that urge is what’s driving him).

3. Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi

Time to go. Keep moving and don’t look back. Fjord’s only known two lives — one he loved and valued, the other he detested and wishes he could forget. Only by moving north and away from this city will Fjord be able to start fresh. Now to disappear… ya’ll.

Time to go. Keep moving and don’t look back. I’ve said this before, and I will say it again: Fjord is a survivor. He’s gotten this far by not giving up, by doing whatever it takes to survive, and he’s not about to stop and give up now. 

He’s lost everything he ever had, good and bad, he’s lost the little sense of stability he grew to cherish, and all he has now is the drive to start again. To not give up. 

It's all the same, only the names will change Everyday, it seems we're wastin' away Another place where the faces are so cold I drive all night just to get back home

He’s never been anyone, anyway, never had a family, a last name, property... all he has is himself and his resolve to keep going.

4. The Sound of Silence by Disturbed

Love me some Disturbed, and this rendition builds like one of Fjord’s dreams. Terrifying and incredible visions flood his mind, and his confusion is only matched by the sometime physical manifestations that accompany his dreams. Can’t help but think of Caleb’s memories at the same time.

WOAH TRAVIS. 

I feel so bad because Fjord seems to really be terrified of whatever is happening to him, even when some of it might be incredible and peak his curiosity, it feels like he’s just freak out. 

Also interesting to feel like maybe Fjord finds a ghost of that darkness in Caleb, perhaps what drives him to confide in him, or trust him to stop the darkness if Fjord loses his way.

Hello darkness, my old friend I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence

“Left its seed while I was sleeping” is such an on-point way to put the way Fjord is shaken by this visions, mulling over them when he wakes, trying to figure them out. After every dream, you can see his stance shift slightly as he tries to adapt to whatever new knowledge he acquired.

5. How Far I’ll Go by Auliʻi Cravalho

Let’s be honest – this is totally Fjord. Plus, you bitches were kidding yourself if you thought some musical numbers weren’t going in this playlist. Also, Disney.

FJORD IS A DISNEY PRINCE CONFIRMED. 

Travis is a dork, also confirmed. 

For real, though, I feel like this song captures Fjord’s excitement with his new life. He’s constantly pushing to see how far he can take his powers. For the first time, he probably feels there’s a chance that he will be someone, that he will “go to distance” (sorry not sorry). The world is no longer an island for Fjord, it extends beyond the horizon and he’s hungry (also not sorry) to see and experience it all.

Every turn I take, every trail I track Every path I make, every road leads back To the place I know, where I can not go, where I long to be

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me And no one knows, how far it goes If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me One day I'll know, if I go there's just no telling how far I'll go

Also, for the first time in the list, this song is so full of hope for big and good things. I’m all here for this. LET FJORD ENJOY HIS NEW LIFE AFTER A LIFE TIME OF SUFFERING AND LOSS. PLEASE.

6. Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

We’re going to get each other killed. Who’s in charge of this ragtag bunch of misfits and criminals? And if no one is in charge, does anyone know what we’re doing? Pretty sure the answer is “no.” One thing is for sure, it’s best for the common stranger to mind their manners when addressing The Mighty Nein. Unless it’s a kind word, best keep your thoughts to yourself and move along, amigo.

I laughed so damn hard when I read this because that’s such an ON POINT definition of the M9. 

Group of Heathens? Check. Gonna get each other killed? Check. Who tf is in charge? Check. 

However, it also shed light in the idea that the M9 are dangerous and better not be crossed. It almost sounds like Fjord enjoys that. Can you blame him, after being through hell? To have a group of people where he feels like he has some power, that he can earn respect, that he can defend himself and those he loves? Unless it’s a kind word, best keep your thoughts to yourself and move along, amigo.

Welcome to the room of people Who have rooms of people that they loved one day Docked away Just because we check the guns at the door Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades You're lovin' on the psychopath sitting next to you You're lovin' on the murderer sitting next to you You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?" But after all I've said, please don't forget

All my friends are heathens, take it slow Wait for them to ask you who you know Please don't make any sudden moves You don't know the half of the abuse

YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF THE ABUSE.

There’s a very strong sense in this song of “even if the world is against us we look after each other” and I love that mindset for this little group of disasters.

7. Overburdened by Disturbed

The weight of Fjord’s responsibilities weigh on him constantly. New powers, new mission, new friends, new crew. The last time he felt this comfortable, everything was ripped away from him — violently. He feels like the waves may be breaking over his head, and struggling to catch his breath he must keep a calm demeanor and steady hand — and push on.

We all know Fjord has been in over his head but it’s nice to see Travis put it so clearly. I think it’s also interesting to be reminded that most of Fjord’s calm and in control demeanor is just a front to hide his doubts and fears. The best example for that? The whole thing with Avantika and how some of the M9 (and the fandom) feared some of that was for real when his goal has always EXPLICITLY been to protect his friends.

Hell is still overburdened I must stand and wait in line Hell is still overburdened How have I been so determined maligned?

There’s the closing of the curtain In the play that was my life Countless chapter’s left unopened, tragedies inside I was fighting for a reason Holy blessed homicide Seems I have committed treason All I’ve sacrificed

In the end, though, he walks a thin line and falling over to the wrong side is all too easy.

8. Pray For Me by The Weekend, Kendrick Lamar

How dope was the Black Panther soundtrack? Fjord feels strange and exciting powers surging within him, and as much as he wants to push the envelope of what he’s capable of, he must rely on those he’s closest with to check him, to keep him grounded — or he might lose more than just his sense of self.

That’s such a good way of putting it. If Fjord dares push for this powers and chase his curiosities at all, it’s probably bevause he’s counting on the M9 to tell him when he goes too far.

I’m always ready for a war again Go down that road again It’s all the same I’m always ready to take a life again You know I’ll ride again It’s all the same (ooh, ooh, ooh) Tell me who’s gon’ save me from myself When this life is all I know Tell me who’s gon’ save me from this hell Without you, I’m all alone

I just really love the idea that Fjord is willing to go as far as it takes to survive, to neverbbe powerless again, to protect himself. That he is always ready to do what it takes… And that’s what he needs true saving from. Himself.

When Travis talks about Fjord losing more than his sense of self, I suspect he means his new friends. He’s afraid to lose their trust, and that might just be the thing that keeps him from risking too much. It does well to have something to lose, something worth protecting even over our own desires.

Without you, I’m all alone.

9.Sunflower by Post Malone & Swae Lee

It’s easy to let all of life’s shit get you down — and sometimes, you need only look as close as your friends. Watching Jester move through life with boundless exuberance is contagious.

YOU KNOW I’M GONNA MAKE A WHOLE ASS POST ABOUT THIS PARTICULAR SONG RIGHT?

So I’m not gonna go too hard om the shipper feels right now. Not too much, anyway.

Just let me get emotional about Jester being Fjord’s literal beacon of light in all this darkness, in him being pulled along with her happiness and shenanigans, loving her pranks and silliness… As much as Fjord got a sense of self amd belonging with Vandran and his crew, did he ever have a true friend that could lift his spirits like this before?

Every time I’m leavin’ on ya You don’t make it easy, no, no Wish I could be there for ya Give me a reason to go Every time I’m walkin’ out I can hear you tellin’ me to turn around Fightin’ for my trust and you won’t back down Even if we gotta risk it all right now, oh

I think this is so important, both in light of what we mentioned earlier and in Fjord’s current arc. Jester constantly pulling him back in when he goes too far, not giving up on him, making him wish he was better and that he could protect her too.

They look after each other.

I’m fine.

ALSO JUST LET ME SCREAM ABOUT TRAVIS ADDING A WHOLE SONG JUST FOR JESTER FOR A WHOLE MINUTE BECAUSE I’M FEELING SO BLESSED AND VALIDATED. SHE IS SO DAMN IMPORTANT TO HIM.

10.Unsteady (Elrich Lee Gravity Remix) by X Ambassadors

A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. And looking around at the people that now surround him, Fjord feels like they are building an increasingly strong chain.

Listen, Fjord my boy is already so attached and dependent of his friends and feels so much stronger and steadier thanks to them after a lifetime of fear and rejection. I’m so emotional.

Mama, come here Approach, appear Daddy, I’m alone ‘Cause this house don’t feel like home If you love me, don’t let go If you love me, don’t let go Hold Hold on Hold on to me 'Cause I’m a little unsteady A little unsteady

DON’T YOU DARE LET GO OF HIM YOU GUYS HE NEEDS YOU SO MUCH.

11. Ocean (feat. Khalid) by Martin Garrix

Feeling cautiously optimistic about his future, he finds himself in awe of his adventuring crew. That’s a new emotion and outlook for him, and he feels truly bound and responsible for these crazy people.

THIS IS A LOVE SONG TO THE M9.

THAT’S IT.

HE LOVES THIS CREW SO MUCH. HE’S REALLY TRYING TO DO HIS BEST BY THEM.

I will physically fight anyone who dares doubt of this good boy again. He’s been alone his whole life. He finally found a family and he will do anything for them. They are the best thing that has ever happened to him.

If we’re caught in a wave, I will carry you over It don’t matter where you are, I’ll run to your front door When my head goes in different directions You know my heart’s never on the move And in the dark times, you don’t have to question If I’m a hundred with you

You could put an ocean between our love, love, love It won’t keep us apart You could build a wall, I would run it up, up, up Just to get to your heart If we’re caught in a wave Baby, we’ll make a way You could put an ocean between our love, love, love It won’t keep us apart

LISTEN. I’M JUST

SO

EMOTIONAL

12.Warriors by Imagine Dragons

Half the shit Fjord has seen since joining up with The Mighty Nein would normally have sent him running. But ya best know, The Mighty Nein are no joke. These fighters are bound to him, and he to them —and no one is taking away this new world he has found.

LET HIM FEEL BRAVE.

LET HIM FEEL HOPEFUL.

LET HIM FEEL POWERFUL.

LET HIM FEEL LOVED.

LET HIM FIND STRENGTH IN HIS FRIENDS.

In youth you’d lay Awake at night and scheme Of all the things that you would change But it was just a dream!

Here we are, don’t turn away now, We are the warriors that built this town Here we are, don’t turn away now We are the warriors that built this town From dust.

This is so on point and I love how much Fjord enjoys being a part of this group of powerful warriors and how protective of this he is. This is his life and he will do anything it takes to live it and keep it by any mean necessary.

“and no one is taking away this new world he has found” is such an interesting perspective about how Fjord thinks and why he’s sometimes willing to go to even dark lengths to get what he or his friends want. This is a possessive and protective statement coming from a man who already had everything he held dear ripped away from him once, who had lost and suffered too much… He won’t let that happen again.

#fjord #fjorester #critical role #sofia's nonsense #travis willingham #listen to the drums; listen to them

[dcmultiverse]

DC Entertainment is celebrating 25 years of graphic storytelling with a line-wide relaunch and rebranding, returning to where it all began with DC Vertigo. Following the news of a Neil Gaiman-curated Sandman Universe imprint, DC Vertigo will continue to expand its slate with seven new series from bold voices across various entertainment backgrounds including novels, games, television, comics and more.

[...] Four monthly series will launch this fall/winter, while the remaining titles will follow in early 2019. The lineup includes:

BORDER TOWN from writer Eric M. Esquivel (Adventure Time, Starburns Presents) with art and covers by Ramon Villalobos (Nighthawk, America) will debut in September

When a crack in the border between worlds releases an army of monsters from Mexican folklore into the small town of Devil’s Fork, Arizona, the residents blame the ensuing weirdness—the shared nightmares, the otherworldly radio transmissions, the mysterious goat mutilations—on “God-dang illegals.” With racial tensions supernaturally charged, it’s up to new kid in town Frank Dominguez and a motley crew of high school misfits to discover what’s REALLY going on.

HEX WIVES from writer Ben Blacker (co-creator of The Thrilling Adventure Hour) with art by Mirka Andolfo (WONDER WOMAN, SHADE, THE CHANGING GIRL) will debut in October

“The women are too powerful. They must be tamed.” A malevolent conspiracy of men brainwashes a coven of witches to be subservient, suburban housewives. But it’s only a matter of time before the women remember their power...

AMERICAN CARNAGE from writer Bryan Hill (TITANS show set to launch on the DC-branded digital service, MICHAEL CRAY) with art by Leandro Fernandez (THE NAMES, The Punisher Max) will debut in November

In this thrilling crime saga, disgraced FBI agent Richard Wright, who is biracial but can pass for white, goes undercover in a white supremacist group believed to be responsible for the death of a fellow agent.

GODDESS MODE from writer Zoë Quinn (Crash Override, featured in People’s 25 Women Who Are Changing the World and Forbes’ 30 Under 30) with art by Robbi Rodriguez (Spider-Gwen, FBP: FEDERAL BUREAU OF PHYSICS) will debut in December

In a near future where all of humanity’s needs are administered by a godlike A.I., it’s one young woman’s horrible job to do tech support on it. But when Cassandra finds herself violently drawn into a hidden and deadly digital world beneath our own, she discovers a group of super-powered women and horrific monsters locked in a secret war for the cheat codes to reality.

HIGH LEVEL from writer Rob Sheridan (former art director for Nine Inch Nails, co-creator of the Year Zero alternate reality game) with art by Barnaby Bagenda (THE OMEGA MEN, GREEN LANTERNS) will debut in 2019

Hundreds of years after the world ended and human society was rebuilt from scratch, a self-interested smuggler with a price on her head is forced to traverse a new continent of danger and mystery to deliver a child messiah to High Level, a mythical city at the top of the world from which no one has ever returned.

SAFE SEX from writer Tina Horn (host/producer of Why Are People Into That? podcast, writer/journalist/lecturer in sexual education and activism) and artist Mike Dowling(UNFOLLOW, 2000 AD) will debut in 2019

A dystopian sci-fi thriller about a ragtag team of sex workers fighting for the freedom to love in a world where sexual pleasure is monitored, regulated and policed by the government.

SECOND COMING from writer Mark Russell (God Is Disappointed in You, THE FLINTSTONES) with art by Richard Pace (IMAGINARY FIENDS) will debut in 2019

God sends Jesus to Earth in hopes that he will learn the family trade from Sun-Man, an all-powerful superhero, who is like the varsity quarterback son God never had. But, upon his return to Earth, Christ is appalled to discover what has become of his Gospel and vows to set the record right.

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