#Patrick x hyena

[t-tex-edwards]

This photo that came up in today’s Memories is from when the Hollywood, California band that I was in, The Loafin' Hyenas, played our first club gig at Raji’s, the epicenter of Hollywood underground bands at the time. I think this was 1988. At that point the band consisted of myself on vocals, former Cramps guitarist Click Mort, a wild cajun gal from Beaumont named Dionne Sparks (now Neva Trejo) on fiddle, & the former rhythm section from the band Blood on the Saddle, Ron Botelho on bass & Hermann Senac on drums. This is the lineup that recorded our first single “Scatter” (about Elvis’ chimpanzee) b/w “Move It!” (a reworking of one of my earlier songs from Tex & the Saddletramps days) that was one of the early releases from Long Gone John’s Sympathy For The Record Industry label (SFTRI 008).

And what a night it was. I don’t remember much from our performance, but I do remember who was there in the audience that night. In the second photo just to the left of the speaker cabinet (& darkly in the first photo) you can see original Gun Club bassist Rob "Graves" Ritter in sunglasses (yes, after dark AND indoors) sitting on the floor with his friend Tim Farris from the band Celebrity Skin. Rob was our favorite & the first bass player Click & I recruited for The Loafin' Hyenas & he jammed with us once when we were in the early stages of writing songs & putting the band together. But Rob was too busy at the time playing reunion gigs with 45 Grave & soon joining the band Thelonious Monster, to have enough time to devote to our project. He did return toward the end of The Loafin' Hyenas & contributed some beautiful bass lines to our only album, THE LOAFIN’ HYENAS on Patrick Mathè’s New Rose label out of France.

Also that night Click had invited his old bosses from The Cramps, Lux Interior & Poison Ivy Rorschach, who surprisingly showed up & crowded into the stuffy basement room at Raji’s where the bands played. I remember Lux pointing out in conversation afterwards in his humorous goofy manner, “Hey, we’re both lead singers with three letter names that end in ‘x’  Lux & Tex!”. I had invited Chip Kinman from Rank and File, a band that I admired & had opened shows for a couple of times back in Dallas at The Hot Klub, who also showed up.

The third photo is my still sweetie Karen Kritter & I in one of Raji’s booths. The final image is a flyer by Click Mort. Don't remember if this was the same night. But it would make sense since Lux produced the first Mad Daddy's LP...

#the loafin' hyenas #t. tex edwards #click mort #dionne sparks #ron botelho #hermann senac #long gone john #sympathy for the record industry #rob ritter #rob graves #45 grave #tim farris #celebrity skin #the cramps #the gun club #lux interior #poison ivy rorschach #patrick mathè #new rose records #chip kinman #rank and file #the hot klub #the mad daddy's #raji's #hollywood boulevard

[aeipcthys]

CLOSED EVENT STARTER. ↪ patrick x talia  @seattlites​

as people, patrick and talia had proven not to be very good at marriage. but one thing they were skilled at was parties. events, galas, fundraisers. they’d been to them all. each time, they had expertly worked the room, charm turned on high. the seattle grace mercy west event would mark the first time they would be doing so since their separation. they’d agreed how important keeping up appearances would be. now here they were, two people who in private had gone at each other like a couple of hyenas, stuck in the back on a black town car. 

when their car pulled up to the venue, patrick got out first, wavingthe driver away and moving to open talia’s door himself. he extended his hand to her. “have i mentioned how radiant you look tonight?” he said. “this seattle air is really working for you. the damp cold almost makes you seem...warm.” he smirked, turning to look at the hotel behind him. he grimaced with dissatisfaction. “how much money am i giving to this hospital again? this is the nicest place they could find? might as well be at a courtyard marriott.” 

#patrick x talia ( convos. ) #fortune running out of my veins ( patrick vanderbilt. ) #holiday party ( events. ) #hey

[ajokeformur-ray]

Three of us against it all // J x Patrick x Reader // soft cuddles.

Summary: It’s been a long, hard day at work and you just want to curl up in a puddle in between Pat and J and go to sleep. All you want is your clown and your koala... and when you get home, well... you get exactly what you want. To the world, these two men are cold, callous... to you??? They’re sweeter than sweet.

A/N: Because @loveletterstoledger​ and @jokershyena​ are total sunflowers and I adore you so much that talking to you makes me feel like I can do and be anything. If one day when I grow up I become half the person you are, then it’ll be the single greatest achievement of my life. You inspire me so much and I love you dearly. You deserve the world and you deserve to lay in between J and Patrick and to be loved on. So here you go, lovelies! I hope you both enjoy, *mwah* <3 also - this is the only time you’ll ever see Pat on top of J... enjoy it.

Though it is stated on my masterlists, I just want to make it very clear that in my OT3 imagines, the ages are as follows: 

J is 30 (Heath was 27- 8 so it makes sense), Pat is 19-22 (Heath was 19 when filming) and the reader is in their early 20s. All is discussed, consensual and agreed upon that they are all romantically involved!

Word count: 1, 368.

On the way home from work could you only think of one thing: getting home to your koala and your clown. Both of them had arranged to be home waiting for you when you finished work this day and it had been the only thing to get you through your long, gruelling shift. Your feet positively ached, your mind felt like it was full of rocks and you just wanted to go home and curl up with the two most important people in your life. Oh, but you were exhausted. You were operating on autopilot and the commute home somehow passed by in a flash but dragged on forever; your entire being alight with excitement and with relief at the thought  that your loves were waiting for you at home.

Your mind, filled with clouds and with the alluring thoughts of your loves’ arms and of your bed, kept you company, kept you busy until the moment that your house key slid easily into the lock and finally, finally, did your daydreams become reality. You busied yourself with toeing off your shoes, carelessly abandoning them next to Pat’s. J’s steel toe capped boots were nowhere to be seen so he was likely still wearing them, little did he care for the state of your carpets. What did it matter, when they could just be replaced? Your outer layers quickly followed your shoes, dumped were they in the dirty laundry basket, and you sighed with relief. You could hear the low baritones of your men talking in the bedroom even through the closed door, and the humming of their voices kept you company, kept you safe while you went in the shower. They revitalised you, filled you with hope and energy and sunlight, and tonight, even through your exhaustion, was their power over you and your wellbeing no exception. You could picture them cuddled up together, not that one of the two would ever admit to such a thing, and it only made you hasten through your after work routine.

You could see them so vividly in your mind, as if you were right there in the room with them... Pat would be lying on his side, an arm stretched out across the expanse of the bed so that J could rest his head on Pat’s palm, the younger man’s fingers in J’s slightly greasy curls. J would be lying on his back, his hands down by his sides. J’s head would be turned on the pillow to look at the Aussie, the tendons in his neck prominent. The sharp curves of J’s face would be begging to be kissed, to be worshipped by Pat’s full lips. Indeed at this moment, as you climbed into the shower, was Pat leaning over J, his fingers still in J’s hair, fingertips rubbing at J’s scalp tenderly, tracing J’s jawline with the cool tip of his nose. J growled lightly under his breath and pushed his face into Pat’s warm lips and reverent touch. The distant sound of running water acted as the accompaniment to their breathing; as Pat inhaled did J exhale, like puzzle pieces were they. Though they fit together, however, you were the glue which softened their jagged edges, which kept them coming home to one another.

Like this did they stay, together did they remain until the bedroom door cracked open and you came in, an ice cold can of drink in your hand. Pat’s smile was dazzling as he straightened up from J and looked at you over his shoulder. “Hey there, Y/N. How you doin’?” He moved off of J, who grumbled at being disturbed, and both Pat and J wriggled around with dramatic, over-exaggerated bounces to free up space in between them. Your lip curled upwards in a smile as you crawled up the bed, being mindful of the can you held in one hand, and J grunted in slight irritation at having to move as he grabbed the can from you and set it down on the bedside table, the hand he had used to do so then coming to wrap around your arm to tug you down beside him.

“Well, hel-lo, beautiful. And you are beautiful.” Intense chocolate eyes dared you to disagree. J huffed in amusement when you didn’t take the bait, and then he got down to business, “Did ya’ check the locks on y’r travels, doll?”

“Yeah. They’re lo - “ You let the rest of your sentence drop away as J groaned tiredly and got out of bed, his entire body on the defense as he checked the windows. You heard him moving through the apartment, checking locks and seals, checking for forced entries, making sure that his koala and his hyena would be safe this night. J could handle his own, though it had occurred to you moments ago that all three of you were exhausted beyond measure and needed this night to be just for you. While he carried out his nightly check did you roll over and get comfortable with your Peppermint, who sighed sleepily and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. Full, hot lips feathered a series of kisses to the crown of your head. Loving you and J was Pat’s religion; J had received his hourly worship and now would you receive yours. In abundance, too, for nothing about Pat was half assed.

“How was work, love?”

“Work was... work.”  You shrugged, your voice already a soft whisper. You were almost asleep already, the warmth emanating off Pat only adding to your exhaustion and your innate need for rest before tomorrow - never could you fully catch a break before the next day’s work. J had been right - capitalism was one of the worst jokes you could think of.

Pat hummed in understanding and in sympathy as he rubbed his hand up and down your arm, comforting you with his touch. He was there for you. He loved you. This was precisely what he had been waiting for; for you to come home so that the three of you were altogether again, so that the three of you could curl up in a mess of limbs and blankets, and sleep. In your threshold consciousness were you when J came back into the bedroom. He shut the door with a loud click, uncaring was he that you were almost asleep, and Pat shushed him impatiently. Pat was just as exhausted as you were, having stayed awake for you to finish work. He had to be up early to go to school tomorrow and that would mean that he would be running on as little as six hours of sleep - he needed his rest just as much as you did.

“Y/N’s almost asleep! Be quiet, you old clown!” Pat’s harsh, deep whisper was soothing and you nuzzled into his chest, your fingers curling into the material of his dark grey shirt. You heard him coo, heard J moving around, and you moaned softly as the mattress dipped with J’s weight. A low, soothing rumble sounded so close to your ear; trying to comfort you was he. J always slept on the side of the bed closest to the door, and he slept facing it, too, so vigilant and so subtly protective of what was his was he. J shuffled back so that your backs were touching and you whined in your sleep, somehow managing to both press into J but into Pat at the same time. You were surrounded by physical and emotional warmth in this moment, Pat’s lips in your hair, J’s broad back pressed against yours, your hand reached back to rest on J’s hip so that you could feel him there, Pat’s arms tightly around you... the combined scents of gasoline, gunpowder, greasepaint and of a slight hint of sweat coming from J and of apples, cigarette smoke, leather and something spicy coming from Pat filled your senses and intoxicated you. It filled your heart, infiltrated your soul, and sent you straight into Morpheus’ arms. You were accompanied by your koala and your clown, however, for nowhere could you go where they would not follow.

HL OT3: @tsukiakarinobara   @1-800-dead-inside  @antonija89 @hotpacino  @call-me-harley-quinn @jokershyena

#heath ledger #ledger joker #patrick verona #10 things i hate about you #ledger joker imagine #patrick verona imagine #patrick x J x reader #patrick verona x J x reader #J x patrick x reader

[fortitudina]

                DETAILED CHARACTER BIO QUESTIONS.

Name: Cillian Diarmuid Brockhurst ( Kye-Lan )

Nickname(s): Ci ( Kye ), Brocky, Snipes.

Name significance/meaning: Cillian ~ This name has several known meanings, including “war,” “strife,” and “bright-headed.” The word cille also means “associated with the church,” so the name is often associated with the word “church” or “monastery.”

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Birthday: 11th November

Deathday: ~

Star Sign/Astrology Sign/Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Location: Los Angeles

Birthplace: Los Angeles

Ethnicity: Irish-American

Nationality: American

Race: Caucasian

Physical Appearance: Clean cut and well presented average height male with brunette hair and blue eyes.

Skin Tone: Sandy-Tan ( https://www.schemecolor.com/skin-pastels.php )

Complexion: fair, smooth & soft.

Eye Color: Old World Blue ( x )

Natural Hair Color: Brunette

Height: 5’10” / 1.78m

Weight: 77kg / 169 lbs / 12st 12lbs

Body Type: Mesomorph

Build: Muscular / Athletic

Posture: Healthy [ x ]

Birthmarks: Strawberry mark on his right hip.

Scars: Gunshot scar on the right side of his chest & left side of the hip region of his abdomen. Stabbing scar to his abdomen and one on the back on the right hip area. One on the back of his neck.

Left Handed/Right Handed/Ambidextrous: Right handed

Age Character Appears to Others: 32

Dyed Hair Color: undyed

Usual Hairstyle: Short

Tattoos: Army tattoo on right bicep

Piercings: none

Makeup Style: ~

Clothing Style: Smart-casual

Clothing Size:  Chest ~ 32inches / Waist ~ 26inches / Hips ~ 32inches

Shoe Style:  Steel-toed boots, sneakers, oxfords.

Shoe Size: 10

Nail Appearance: short, well kept.

Eyebrow Shape: Straight ( x )

Features: Soft features overall; perfectly symmetrical 

Face Shape: Oval

Facial Hair: Light stubble

Voice: Deep

Distinguishing Feature: Smile

Extrovert or Introvert: Ambivert

Personality Traits: Cheeky, Compassionate, Loyal

MBTI Personality: ESFJ-A

Optimist or Pessimist: Optimist

Temperament: Cheeky disposition

Mood: Cheerful

Attitude: Positive

Strengths: Caring, Kind, Giving

Flaws: Blunt, Hero Complex, Brash

Mannerisms: Smirking, quirking of eyebrow, cheeky grins

Habits: fiddling with pens or small objects

Morning Person or Night Owl: Morning person

Pet Peeves: idiots, bad lying, loud eaters, slow people ( walking etc )

Favorite Sin: Gluttony

Favorite Virtue: Patience

Weakness: Loved ones or friends & colleagues getting hurt / involved.

Strengths: Sharp-shooter, Skilled hand-to-hand combat.

Expressiveness: strong use of both facial expressions and hand movements.

Ruled by Heart or Mind: A little bit of both; more heart though.

Mindset: Positive

Philosophy:  “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit”

Motivated by: Food, Justice, Happiness.

Everyday Speech: “The past is behind, learn from it. The future is ahead, prepare for it. The present is here, live it.”

Life Motto: “Don't count the days, make the days count.”

Energy Level: High

Memory Level: Eidetic (Photographic) Memory

Disabilities: none

Phobias: Incredibly small spaces. 

Addictions: Does pizza and poptarts count?

General aptitude: Fluid Intelligence

Mental Strengths: Problem-Solving, Psychoanalysis, 

Mental Weakness: Not a Genius 

Physical Strengths: Physically fit, keen hand-eye coordination, 

Physical Weakness: weakened cervical vertebrae from an old injury during a tour in Afghanistan

Past Illnesses: Chicken pox twice as a kid

Major Surgeries: Surgery to pin his cervical spine. Surgery to remove various bullets.

Accidents: Had several bumps and scrapes whilst at work.

Stability: Very Stable

Allergies: Pollen, Shellfish

Job Title: Detective

Company: LAPD

Career Type: Police

Education: High School, Military, Police Academy

College: ~

Work Ethic: Hard-working

Job History: Sniper in the Army, Beat Cop, Detective.

Income: $74,000 per anum

Political Party/Organizations: Doesn’t do politics

Volunteer Work: Helps at the Veteran’s housing association.

Dream job: Got it

What job would s/he do poorly at: Doctor

Career satisfaction: Love the job

Diet: Coffee and any food easy to grab on the go

Favorite Foods: Poptarts, Barbecue-based, Chicago stuffed crust pizza.

Favorite Drinks: Coffee, Beer, Cranberry juice.

Favorite Movie: Top Gun

Favorite Music: doesn’t really have a favourite

Favorite Book: doesn’t have time to read

Favorite Place: Does bed count?

Favorite activities: Running, Shooting, Cooking

Favorite time of day: Morning

What makes them happy? Catching the bad guys, seeing friends & family happy.

What makes them sad? Losing someone close to them.

Hobbies: Shooting, Running, Cooking, Singing

Interests: Films, Artwork

Favorite animal: Hyena

Loves to do: Wind people up and be cheeky

Hates to do: Paperwork

Inspired by: Former Army Colleagues

Raised by: (family) Mother and Father

Parent Status: Married ~ alive

Mother’s Name: Siobhan Marie Brockhurst

Mother’s Age: 63

Mother’s Background: Irish

Father’s Name: Patrick James Brockhurst

Father’s Age: 68

Father’s Background: American

Relationship with Mother: Close

Relationship with Father: Okay..

Parenting Type: Strict

Only Child? One of Three

First Born, Middle Child, or Youngest? Middle

# of Siblings: Second of three siblings

Relationship with Siblings: Close to brother; Distant with sister

Extended Family: ~

Family Relations: ~

How has family life shaped the character? Helped to both break him and make him who he is today

What they like most about their family: They will all get together for holidays and birthdays

What they dislike most about their family: The religious side

Children: Nil

Pets: Two Dogs

Best Friend(s): Doesn’t have one.

Worst Enemy: ~

Many acquaintances or few close friends? Few close friends

Sexual Preference: Any

Orientation: Pansexual

Relationship Status: Verse Dependent 

Marital Status: Verse Dependent

First Love: Carlie Anne Vaugn 

Current Love or Aspiring Love: Verse Dependent.

Notable Ex-Lovers: Azrael Mortem

Top 3 Loved Ones: ~

Top 3 Disliked Ones: ~ 

Who knows the character best? Eoghan, his brother or Lupita, his work partner.

Childhood: Cillian had a fairly stable upbringing; his parents in a strong marriage and with an older brother to help teach him the ropes, Cillian did well during his early school years and thrived in all of his subjects.

Adolescence: As he got to high school, he joined the football and soccer teams; being rather sporty as a child meant his fitness was impeccable. When he finished High school, instead of going to college, Cillian got in with the wrong crowd and ended up being arrested for Breaking and Entering and several counts of theft.

Young Adult: Went through Military training then, Cillian’s Regiment was sent to Afghanistan where they served three tours before he was shot in the Line of Duty after going through Hell being tortured with one of his comrades.

Adult: After being medically discharged from the army, Cillian took a year out for convalescence before joining LAPD. Given his history with the army, he soon shot up through the ranks until he became a Detective. He will also play the role of Police Sniper/marksman if they have to go into particularly tough situations that require an overwatch. 

Moments/Experiences that shaped them: Getting into the wrong crowd after High school. Being sent into the Army. Being captured and tortured during his final tour in Afghanistan. 

How have they changed as a person throughout their life? He has matured a considerable amount and become regimented and organised as an adult, with a respect for the law and bringing justice.

Major regrets: Getting involved with who he did as a teenager and ending up getting arrested.

Biggest life lessons learned: Don’t get arrested.

Religious Beliefs: Catholic

Upbringing: Strict & Religious

Core Values: Dependability, Consistency, Loyalty, Reliability, Integrity.

Morals: Always tell the truth, Treat others as you want to be treated, Be dependable, Be forgiving, Have integrity, Take responsibility for your actions, Have patience, Be loyal, Have respect for yourself and others

What does s/he believe is evil? The force in nature that governs and gives rise to wickedness and sin.

What does s/he believe is good? Morally excellent; virtuous; righteous; pious

Risks Worth Taking: Those that keep both the city and loved ones safe.

Important milestones: Making Lieutenant in the army. Reaching Detective in LAPD. NOT DYING whilst in both the Army or LAPD.

Achievements: The Purple Heart as a result of his capture & suffering endured during that time.

Failures: Getting Arrested as a teenager

Lifestyle: Busy

Character Traits: Hard-working, Brave, Compassionate, Honest, Successful, Fighter, Mischievous, Thoughtful, Sassy, Humorous, Helpful, Independent, Loyal, Courageous, Responsible.

Culture: 

Main Goal: Have a long and happy life, full of hard work, fun and family.

Minor Goal: Drive the damn car at work.

Desire: There are several.

Biggest mistakes: Getting in with the wrong crowd.

Life lessons: Not everyone is going to like you.

Dream Life: The one I have now

Worst Nightmare: The Hell I endured whilst on my final tour.

Favorite Memories: Winding my brother up. Making Detective. 

Least favorite memories: Getting Tortured

Things they want in life: Family. Love. Fun.

Things they don’t want in life: Suffering. Pain. Heartache.

What obstacles are currently in their way? Work.

Any secrets: Yes, but if you think he’s going to tell anyone, you’re idiotic.

Worldview: It’s just a little bit fucked.

Personal Hero:  Former Sergeant Major. 

Internal Conflict: Questioning if he’s good enough for his job at times.

External Conflict: Seeing the scars upon his body and being reminded of each event; wishing he could get rid of them all.

What others think of them: Fun and loveable; a genuine and caring guy. 

What they think of themselves: an idiot; not good enough. 

What they wish they could change: What they did in the past.

What they wish they could have: less strict father.

What gets them fired up: Liars. Suspects who think they’re clever. 

Their definition of a good life: A steady job with a family and friends surrounding them.

Risks worth taking: Anything that keeps both family and friends safe.

Things they take for granted: Coffee. Beer. Time at times.

What inspires them: Seeing justice get served. 

What they have doubts about: being good enough.

What makes them feel alive: The thrill of the chase.

What makes them want to do better: Any case they do not solve / Criminal that doesn’t get a guilty charge.

What do they want to be remembered for? Being a good and loyal man.

How will the character change? He might become a husband or a father? Perhaps even Lieutenant or Captain of LAPD some day.

#* CILLIAN { HEADCANON }

[thegeekerynj]

Short Reviews, when the Big Mouth doesn’t have much to say… Or is trying to get caught up from COVID / Election Overload

An Occasional Attempt to Read, Discuss and Review the Wonders of Comics

By: John Rafferty, cranky old man, and Fan of All Things Comics

Short Takes 

Short Reviews, when the Big Mouth doesn’t have much to say… Or is trying to get caught up from COVID / Election Overload

Legion of Super Heroes 6-10  (DC Comics)

Writer: Brian Michael Bendis    Pencils: Ryan Sook (#6 - 7, 10) Various (8 - 9)   Inker: Wade Von Grawbadger (#6 - 7, 10) Various (8 - 9)

‘You want to be called Bouncing Boy?

Looking at the Memexes, we were considering “The Bullet”.

Bullet?

It’s a projectile that——

No, with me, it’s all about the BOUNCE.

———————————————————————————————————

Can Brian Bendis write everything?

Between story, and downright FUN, this is a great book.  Team books are hard to do well, if for no other reason, because of the characterizations. 

Multiple characters mean multiple personalities, and some of those will always get underdeveloped in relationship to the team, as the writer invariably has favorites  Unless…

What we are seeing with LSH is development of characters from across the spectrum. Every book has development of some of the characters, even if they’re not directly involved in the story. This is a far cry from what you see in other books.

Add to this Ryan Sook’s breakdowns, and Wade von Grawbadger’s inks, and you get a pretty package, all tied up in a big bow. More importantly, this is a story with a legacy reaching back 60 years, and is being truly refreshed for a new audience.

This isn’t the Legion I read in 1967, but it’s damned good! 

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

Suicide Squad #9 - 10  (DC Comics)

Writer: Tom Taylor  Artist: Bruno Redondo

I have Kord’s location.

Okay. Do you also have the Senator?

Oh, did you want him back for some reason? That spineless mouth-breather championed a law to dump more waste into the sea. Delusional, greedy @#$% thinks he owns the world.

I have some friends reminding him he does not.

———————————————————————————————————

Floyd Lawton, first appearance, Batman #59, June 1950, as the man who never misses.

Floyd Lawton, a man who feels no rereason to continue living, but has no wish to die: who puts his life on the line to save his teammates time and time again, to save his daughter and her mother, all with the wish of dying in a truly spectacular fashion.

Floyd Lawton, who finally finds a reason to live, in the eyes of his daughter, Zoe.

Floyd Lawton. Deadshot. Perennial member of Task Force X, finally earned his pardon.

Game Over.

By all that’s Unholy, Tom Taylor is a hateful SOB! But the man writes a great story!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

===========================================================

Marvel Zombies Resurrection # 1 - 4  (Marvel Comics)

Writer: Phillip Kennedy Johnson   Artist: Leonard Kirk

‘Fine. I guess we came all this way. 

Might as well do something really stupid.

———————————————————————————————————

This sums up exploring the World, any world, during a Zombie Apocalypse. Especially when those with Super Powers have been turned into Super Zombies.

So, we pick up with Peter Parker, Forge, Karla Sofen (Moonstone), Valeria and Franklin Richards, a Flerkin named Chewie, and the reprogrammed Sentinel lovingly called ‘Nana’, moving from defendable place to defensible area, seeking a ‘safe place’. Somewhere they can rest for more than one night… if that is possible.

Always realizing the next tree could be hiding a zombified Avenger, or Defender, or Loved one…

Johnson’s Miniseries is another version of the Marvel Zombiepocalypse, which begs the question, what happens when Zombie Galactus infects your world? Or, more importantly, when it CARRIES the infection to your world?

Leonard Kirk’s art style is perfect for this story, a very dark, visceral style which is a little hard on the eyes, making the reader work for every panel. Yes, it hurts to read, but IT SHOULD! It’s Zombies!

This is worth the read if you can get all 4 issues (the first issue came out in July).

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶

===========================================================

Rorschach #1  (DC Black Label)

Writer: Tom King   Artist: Jorge Fornes

‘They won’t talk to me. Treating me like I’m a  damn Kindergarten kid. I got twins in Kindergarten. Duane and Dwight. I’m not a Kindergarten kid. 

Jesus Christ. What’d they say to you?

That you’re dying.

Shit.

===========================================================

In 1985, Walter Kovacs died. 

It went unnoticed, but for the few in attendance, for Kovacs died following the Alien Invasion of New York, which, in effect saved the world.

Yet, unnoticed, but for the few, Walter Kovacs became a red splash on the Antarctic permafrost.

And Rorschach, the Crime Hunter, died with him.

Or. did he?

In a world existing somewhere between Watchmen 1985 and Current Multiverses, Tom King and begun a noir-ish tale… Did Rorschsch come back, to foil an assassination attempt, and die in the process?

Did he come back, and fail at an attempt at assassination?

Or, Gentle Readers, is there a whole slew of balls in the air we just haven’t seen yet, that we are going to be expected to juggle deftly, as they drop just into sight?

I can’t wait for the answer!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

Justice League #54 - 57  (Death Metal Tie-In) (DC Comics)

Writer: Joshua Williamson    Artists: Xermanico (54, 57), Pencils: Robson Rocha (55 - 56), Inks: Daniel Henriquez (55 - 56)

“Don’t you get it Cyborg? We’re not the Justice League!

We’re the Suicide Squad!

———————————————————————————————————

I have said before I am not a fan of Joshua Williamson’s writing.

Maybe I just don’t like him on the Flash. 

Four issues, each of them a very good story, each building, with some action and humor, to a smash mouth endpoint, that brings us to Death Metal #5.

I have to say, I’m enjoying this run of Justice League, even with the switch of artist teams mid - tale Xermanico’s work os beautiful, right into the valley of the Starros (that gave me giggle fits!) Rocha and Henriquez’s work is very pretty, and a little darker than Xermanico’s, giving a more atmospheric touch to the Antenna of LOD.

I have to admit, they do a mean Kori, as well! Really FIERCE, with a Full Length mohawk!

Well worth the cost of admission, and a strong addition to the Metal storyline.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

Nightwing #75 - 76 (DC Comics)

Writer: Dan Jurgens   Artists: Travis Moore and Ronan Cliquet (75), Ronan Cliquet (76)

‘We have to talk.’

———————————————————————————————————

Four words. 

Four words that have ended more relationships than violence.

Dan Jurgens has done a masterful job of tying up the Ric Grayson / Amnesias storyline that seems to have run for nigh on ever… by bringing it full circle to Anatoli Knyazev, the KGBeast.

The artwork in these two issues was pretty, with obvious switches between that of Travis Moore (the Titans / Batgirl pages) and Ronan Cliquet’s Batman / KGBeast pages.

Nicely tied up, completing multiple storylines in two issues. Ready to move forward/

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

Young Justice  #19 - 20 (DC Comics)

Writers: Brian Michael Bendis and David  Walker   Artist: Scott Godlewski

Red Tomato?

I think he said Tornado, and you know it.

Honestly, he talks so fast, I can’t understand him most of the time.

———————————————————————————————————

Damian Wayne, Robin.  Cassie Sandmark, Wonder Girl. Bart Allen, Impulse. Conner Kent, Superboy. Stephanie Brown, Spoiler. Keli Quintela, Teen Lantern. Zan and Jayna. the Wonder Twins. Jinny Hex, Naomi, Amethyst,

Twenty issues in, and the book is cancelled… or is planned to end. Either way, this is a suck way to do things, DC.

This is a great group of characters. Much better than the roster in the Young Justice cartoon, simply for the diversity. Some heroes just coming into their own, some who have existed for years,  (the Wonder Twins have been around in MULTIPLE iterations since the 1970’s), all helping each other… This was a great jumping in book for pre-teens who weren’t up for all the violence / hyperkinetic action / storytelling of a true adult book.

And, it was FUN!

Bendis, Walker and Godlewski produced a fantastic product every month.

One which is ending too soon. Unless, of course, it is going to come back in a new package… 

Hint, hint, hint…

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

Amazing Spider-Man 50 - 53  ‘Last Remains’  (Marvel Comics (duh!))

Writer: Nick Spencer   Artist: Patrick Gleason

‘You’re going to love it, Pete. There’s no better feeling in this life — Than being surrounded by those you love.

———————————————————————————————————

So, what are the rules around DEAD Characters returning?

Do they have to be relevant after so many years? Shouldn’t they be, well, driven to do something? Not take more than 50 issues to finally get around to saying…”Bazinga!’, or it’s equivalent?

I must admit, issue 50 is the first issue of a Spider-Man book I picked up, and started to enjoy, until I realized I needed to pick up the LR issues also in order to get the whole story. Didn’t’t we get enough of this in the Shooter Years? 

What about a year and a half ago, when Marvel vowed they would never pull this crap again?? 

I guess they forgot… (Insert comparison to jackass in office here).

Too much work, don’t really care.

Especially when the reveal of who Kindred is happens in issue 50, and Peter finds out in #53… Puh-Leez!

At least it’s not Professor Warren and his Gwen Stacy clone. **BRRRRR** Freakin’ Creepy Old Perv!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶

===========================================================

Batman 101 - 102 (DC Comics (bigger DUH!))

Writer: James Tynion IV   Artist: Guillen March (101)  Pencils: Carlo Pagulayan   Inks: Danny Miki   Artist: Carlos D’Anda (Pages 13 - 16)

‘DOUBLE RENT! And you don’t talk to the other tenants! They are good people.

Little Santa Prisca is a community. We live through BANE. We live through JOKER. Don’t blow it up with all your nonsense!

You got it Charlie, No Nonsense. Not Here.

Hey! What’s your policy on Hyenas?

———————————————————————————————————

So, Lucius Fox is one of the richest men in the world. 

Selina Kyle has put the Bat on a One Year Clock to get his stuff together, or she walks.

Clownkiller might be the Bernard Goetz of Superhero Vigilantism (look up the reference, I can’t do everything!), but he goes about proving you can’t keep a good vigilante killer down if he has Google.

Ghost Maker is more than we thought, and knows who Bruce Wayne keeps in the closet (or cave).

Is there anyone in Gotham who doesn’t know who Bruce Wayne is?

Tynion continues to pump out some great product, the stories and characters do not disappoint. Including Grifter as Fox’s ‘bodyguard’ was a nice touch, having him get the drop on Batman, a nicer one.

The art in both books, while vastly different, is simply gorgeous. I want to see more od the team of Pagulayan and Miki, I’m hoping to see their work grow with the storylines.

Next issue, BATTLE Sequences! Should be fun, not that it hasn’t been so far.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

Shang Chi  #1 - 2 (Marvel Comics)

‘I have to save my Little Sister!

I have to kill my Big Brother!’

———————————————————————————————————

Only meetings should have agendas.

-Me, just now

Once upon a time, Sax Rohmer wrote stories about the machinations of one Fu Manchu, and his oft overturned attempts to take over the world.

In 1973, Steve Engelhart and Jim Starlin brought Shang Chi, son of Fu Manchu into the Marvel Universe, where he and his MI-6 partners Clive Reston and Black Jack Tarr were responsible for being the monkey wrenches in the machinery of Fu Manchu’s Plans.

It seems that Shang Chi is back, without his prior father. He is still proficient in all forms of martial arts, but now, he is ‘Champion of House of the Deadly Hand’ (like that name isn’t going to come to but him in the butt like a Karmic werewolf), and since the passing of his ‘Father”, now the Commander of the Five Weapons Society.

The artwork is pretty, and the story, steeped in Asian Mysticism, is a little draggy so far. Is the story good? Yeah, it’s a nice reminder of a character I exjyed a long tome ago.

Will it get better? Time will tell.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶.5

===========================================================

The Rise of Ultraman #1 - 3 (Marvel Comics, by way of Tsuburaya Productions)

Writers: Kyle Higgins and Matt Groom    Artist: Francesco Manna

Oh. You’re here to fight because you think we’re one of the species that can’t evolve.

No. I know you cannot evolve.

Fifty-Four of your years ago, my brother came to assist you. And you killed him.

———————————————————————————————————

In the late 60’s, on certain New York television stations, the Saturday Afternoon hours were filled with Japanese imports, Kaiju - United Science Patrol, and of course the story of the death of Moroboshi, and the coming of Ultraman.

Ultraman, a human - alien symbiosis, who fought the Kaiju menace coming to take over the Earth.

Forward to 2020, a new Ultraman, with a new team of USP helpers / friends, and what looks at this point to be a corrupt system surrounding them.

This creative team has done a marvelous job with the material thus far, reviving this character for a modern reader.

It’s just a shame it’s only 5 issues…

It is definitely worth the read.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

===========================================================

American Vampire 1976 #1 - 2 (DC Comics)

Writer: Scott Snyder   Artist: Artist: Rafael Albuquerque

‘DAMMIT! Before what happened with Gus, you were the best vampire tracker and killer around. I’m asking you to help me take down whoever this PEELING MAN is.

But if this shitty music and LASERS is your life now, then just say so, and I’ll leave you to it.

It’s not a laser, you goddamned idiot.

It’s a SOLAR LAMP. **klik**

———————————————————————————————————

Ten years ago, Scott Snyder, Rafael Albuquerque and Stephen King started a journey which has spanned 10 Years in real time, but 200 years, and 12 separate cycles in series time.

The current iteration has our favorite group of vamps and exterminators running around 1976, wrecking discos, trains, and graveyards, all in the name of bringing back Stoker’s primary villain.

Snyder proves again he is up to the task of creating a world of whimsy and horror, providing mayhem, madness, and the occasional snorting giggle. His droll wit, and ability to write a phenomenal action piece makes this cycle of the American Vampire story a must read.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶

#Legion of Superheroes #suicide squad #marvel zombies resurrection #rorschach #jusice league #Dark Nights Death Metal #nightwing #young justice #amazing spider-man #last remains #batman #Shang chi #the rise of ultraman #American vampire 1976

[insomniacs-keyboard]

nobody is born gay or lesbians ,nobody is born and fair you harley x ivy stans and bad directors like amanda conner, jimmy palmiotti, JUSTIN HALPERN and PATRICK SCHUMACKER for years 2015 implanted for girlfriends without monogamy and tell me where the bravery of admit and accept bisexual ,bisexuality and humanity for KAL-EL ,CLARK KENT, SUPERMAN for justice league and your eco-terrorist , communist, coward ,PAMELA ISLEY, POISON IVY?

You're back!!!!

Nobody is born gay.............lmao I was, gay straight outta the womb 😩

Look you always name like 'directors' and like Real People and I'm just gonna say I know absolutely 0 real people. Even my family is just cardboard cutouts from cereal boxes 🤧

Didnt understand half of that but like what is wrong with bisexuality? Like I'm bi and its swell, gotta love all people 🥵

Okay whenever you put a '?' I always gotta try and figure out what the actual question you're asking is like you lose me every other word so like what are you asking?? Idk what is its but Superman is Big Gay for Batman I dont make the rules I just enforce em 🤧

How is Poison Ivy a coward lmao she will fuck shit up without hesitation??? Why are you obsessed with this omg 😂

I'm just trying to post about pretty plant girl and her hyena loving girlfriend 🥵 why you gotta come for me like this lmfaooo

Shout out if you're part of the Girlfriends Without Monogamy Club we stan

#j speaks #anon #anonymous #asks #lmfaoooo why are you coming for me #this is the highlight of my week every time i love it #gonna love my girl #poison ivy #until the day i die #her and harley can and will live happily ever after #who are all the people you name i gotta start googling them #anyways poison ivy and harley are bisexual icons we stan #die mad about it

[bandstolookup]

patrick moraz

capstan

eat your heart out

chris alder

ian paice

steve hillage

william shatner

wesley wills

florence foster jenkins

lou reed

american football

remember sports

sports etc

canadian softball

desperado

van helsin's curse

greta

the last internationale

fear

hiss golden messenger

death in vegas

bad radio

bootsy collins

chumped

hovercraft

ashford

the weather might say otherwise

badminton the band

hospital sports

times new roman

remember sports

all time quarterbacks

quarterbacks

pele

phantom planet

the grand

twisted wheel

modo stare

theory59

ruen brothers

chinese football

van besten

captain sensible

the zambonis

the phantom surfers

gnarls barkley

jo boxers

boxer

the sports

athlete

vida blue

the surfaris

captain & tennille

jail socks

boxer rebellion

darts

five for fighting

high school football heroes

little big league

helmet

the outfield

fastball

everlast

luscious jackson

saint etienne

sweethearts of the rodeo

the delgados

hockey

saint raymond

wet nuns

hospital lies

flume

no ceremony

bachman turner overdrive

mobil williams

mikhael paskalev

the stooges

marika hackman

wall

rustie

bachman & turner

brave belt

jackmaster

young fathers

burna boy

mausi

casablanca

lonely the brave

little comets

wale

lata mangeshkar and s.p.

t. rex

rufus du sol

lastlings

white lies

general fiasco

the ink spots

balasubramaniam

pigface

lard

jello biafra and the guantanamo school of

dimebag

sir mix a lot

saint rich

the no wto combo

giraffe tongue orchestra

chi-lites

doug e fresh

bless the fall

stevie wonder

sevendust

devil wears prada

slick rick

major lazer

vybz kartel

lucy pearl

coolio

diet cig

steel train

striper

screaming lord sutch and the savages

asking alexandria

we are harlot

brenda russell

two

sisyphus

lustra

the ohio players

danielson

hawkwind

marzuki

corey feldman

lou bega

crazy town

baha men

loser

the church

martha and the vandellas

angerfist

d'angelo

mc nolz

phoebe green

m1dy

art of anarchy

diabarha

7!cho

stella donnelly

amy shark

rival sons

vanilla ice

wolfmother

whitesnake

lynch mob

goodie mob

dresta

bg knocc out

the everly brothers

the prize fighter inferno

7 worlds collide

the smiths indeed

the pretenders

the the

the cribs

the motels

electric

yob

imx

tlc

rick james

mc hammer

rocket ritchotte

mr big

ribs

red square black

hardline

the dedroit wheels

chicago

sufferplenty

kiyahn

sinead o'connor

g3

alcatrazz

the smirks

steeler

cacophony

lizzy borden

the damned

the head cat

dirty heads

sam gopal

the rockin rebels

opal butterfly

the rockin vickers

the sugarhill gang

the knack

john cafferty and the beaver brown band

big dirty band

the crickets

ol dirty bastard

x-mas project

nena

stormtroopers of death

the damned things

spastik children

geordie

trauma

prophets of rage

wakrat

future user

old funeral

abruptum

burzum

tin machine

the arnold corns

the riot squad

squarepusher

rapidfire

laughing hyenas

meliah rage

idler wheel

yaleesa hall

raped by elephants

sniper

rock star supernova

methods of mayhem

arson anthem

tapeworm

[princessofthedarkrealm]

Stroke of Midnight- Chapter 4 (Pennywise x reader)

Stanley Uris’s kippah went sailing through the window of a passing school bus like a frisbee.

“Guys? Really?” You put your hands on your hips, shaking your head as Patrick and Vic cackled like a pair of hyenas.

Stanly got to his feet, dusting the dirt off his pants. Vic pushed him towards your group. Bill had just gotten over being sick, so your aunt had asked you to pick up him and Georgie after school for a couple of days instead of letting them ride their bikes so that Bill wouldn’t over exert himself. Luckily Mrs. Stout had let you leave work for a little while.

“You guys are sad, you know that?” you shot at the Bowers Gang.

Patrick mimicked crying and wiping away a tear. “So sad,” he said mockingly. Vic laughed and Belch gave the response that had earned him the only name you knew him by.

Henry Bowers, the leader of this gang of pathetic miscreants, pointed a finger at you menacingly. “Why don’t you shut your face, bookworm, before I have to add a matching mark to your other cheek?”

Your face grew hot from anger and embarrassment. Your cheek was still tender from when the man in the alley had hit you the night before. The dead man, you thought. You could still see Pennywise’s large form standing out in the dark like a pale ghost, holding your attacker up as if he weighed nothing.

You glanced to the right and saw Georgie come out of the school. You shot a nervous glance back at Henry. There was no way your little cousin was going to bypass this group of trolls. As Georgie got closer, you tried motioning at him to go around to the right. He noticed, but to your horror, so did Patrick. A sadistic grin lit up his face. 

“Aww. It’s the little shrimp.” He dubbed his thumb towards Georgie and started side stepping towards him.

You stepped forward, but Bowers got in front of you. For the second time in two days, your path was blocked by some menacing goon. You bit your bottom lip. Henry was a head taller than you and even though he was pretty scrawny, you knew he could still hurt you. Patrick was moving back and forth in front of Georgie, taunting him. Every way Georgie would go, Patrick would go that way. Patrick laughed.

“Bill,” Georgie called out weakly.

“P-Patrick, leave h-him alone,” Bill hollered.

You were seething. You glared at Henry and then your eyes flickered to the two cops that were standing across the street behind him. You smirked when you recognized one of them.

“You really want to keep making a scene in front of Daddy?” you whispered. “By the look on his face, he doesn’t look too pleased.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide as his face took on a crazed, murderous look. Jeez, there is something seriously wrong with this kid, you thought. But you didn’t dare let him see the unease that was building within you. Instead you raised your eyebrows at him, daring him to continue his little charade.

“Patrick!”

Patrick twisted around to face you and Bowers and Georgie scampered past him to safety. Bowers got in your face and jabbed a finger at you. “This isn’t over,” he whispered heatedly.

Bowers stalked off and the rest of his goons followed. Bill and his friends crowded around you. You jumped when you felt a thump on your back.

“Ho-ly shit, that was great!” Richie clapped you on the back again. “I mean, you just stood there right in his face.” He held his hand up in the air, fingers bent forward to emphasize how close you had come to danger. “I would have died.”

“Yeah, like fucking literally,” Eddie Kaspbrak added.

“Hey! We’re still at school,” You scolded.

“Yeah, we’re still at school,” Richie whispered in Eddie’s face. Eddie pushed him.

The boys said their good-byes and while the others got on their bikes, you and your cousins headed to your car, which was parked in front of the other end of school.

“Are y-you going to be d-driving us tomorrow?” Bill asked.

“Nah.” You unlocked your door. “I think your mom just wanted me to do it for a couple of days. You should be ok. Your cough is almost go-” You glanced up and froze.  Floating towards you, from across the road, was a single red balloon. You watched its slow approach, then glanced around nervously.

Georgie looked up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sweetheart.” You unlocked the back door and the boys climbed inside. A car passed, causing the balloon to swirl around in the air. You opened your own door and went to climb in, but decided to take one more peek.

And wished you hadn’t.

The balloon was gone. But there was something else. Someone else. Standing in a small copse of trees right across the street.

Pennywise.

You felt your body lock in place. He just stood there, his intense, predatory eyes slanted slightly downward, staring at you. Devouring you. His puffy, cherry red lips hung slightly open. You started trembling. You couldn’t look away. You wanted to, only you didn’t want to. You wanted to go to him. You wanted-

Another school bus passed. And then he was gone.

******

You went about your daily routine. People talked about the man who had been murdered and of course you would act shocked. No one could ever know the truth, and there was no way they would even believe you. The next day passed. Still no Pennywise. No sightings, no gifts, even your nights were beginning to feel empty and mundane.

Friday came. The last day of school. The day had been pretty quiet at work. By afternoon a boy came in asking for books about the history of Derry. He seemed like a quiet boy, with a round, friendly face. You found a few books for him, then got him settled at a table.

“It’s a pretty day today,” you told him. “The last day of school. Wouldn’t you rather be out with friends?”

The boy glanced out the window. “I like it in here.”

You smiled at him. “Me too. Well if you need any help, just ask.”

You went back to the circulation desk and grabbed the drawing that you had started working on after lunch. It was in pencil and was more of just an idle doodle.  You traced his lips you’re your fingers. Those lips that you couldn’t get out of your mind. And those wild, intense, yellow eyes. You sighed and set it down.

You walked past the steps that led to the storage room and heard something that sounded like a holler coming from that direction. You went to investigate and were halfway down the stairs when the boy that had requested the Derry books came running up them as if something was chasing him. He slowed down when he got to you and the two of you just looked at each other, not saying anything as he walked past. What had caused him to run like that? Or even better… who? You descended the rest of the stairs. The light in the large room was dim. Long shelves full of archives, old equipment, and other things ran parallel to her. You started walking down the center aisle.

“I know you’re here,” you called. You turned slowly, all your senses on high alert. “No one else could have scared that boy like that.”

You heard a creaking sound off to your right and froze. Your heart started pounding. Did you really want to be down here alone with him? “Please, I know your there. I need to know you’re there. I know that I’m not losing my mind.” You started glancing around frantically. “I need to know that you are real. I need to see you, I need to feel…” You brought your hands up to your face and closed your eyes. A cacophony of feelings raged through you, each one fighting to take precedence: fear, anxiousness, and in the deepest part of you, something else that you were afraid to label. You heard movement behind you, close behind you. Every muscle in your body seemed to lock in place.

“Pretty little princess, don’t be afraid.”

Your eyes flew open. You’d know that voice anywhere—that soft, silky, squeaky voice.

“Pennywise has come to make your day.”

When you felt his hand on your neck, you squealed and jumped sideways so hard that your back hit one of the shelves. You heard something clatter to the floor on the other side.

You had never seen him this close before. He towered over you. Three furry orange balls went down the center of his chest. Your head reached the middle one.  His buck teeth shown prominently through his cherry red lips that were lit up into a grin so big his face could have split along the single red lines that curved from his lips and up along his face.

He leaned in towards you. “Did the little princess jump?” He giggled.

“Y-you startled me,” you stammered.

He frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

You highly doubted that.

He leaned in closer. “Are you afraid of me?”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times. You weren’t sure how to answer him. “I g-guess I am a little.” You were starting to sound like Bill. He reached out and barely grazed your cheek with a gloved finger causing you to flinch slightly.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little one. But I know you’ve been missing me. So I’ve come to give you what you want.”

“And how do you know what I want?” you said a little too loudly.

“Oh I know everything, my dear.” He rubbed his thumb along your chin. His face was so close and his breath smelled super sweet, like cotton candy. “I know you lie awake at night, haunted by your fears…” He tilted his head sideways at you and brought his thumb up to rub along your bottom lip. You whimpered as a shiver ran through your body, one that had nothing to do with fear. “And your desires.” He said that last word slowly. You yanked your head back to break the contact and the clown chuckled. “Look how easy you come undone by my touch.”

“I did not ask you to touch me!”

He chuckled again. “But isn’t that what you wanted to do to me?” He shook his head at you, causing his bells to jingle. “To see that I’m real. To…” He reached out like he was going to poke your nose, but then stopped just inches away. You stared at his hand. “…touch me.” He lowered his hand and leaned down to you again. “Go ahead, kit-ten. There’s no one here. Do it…Touch me.”

Your heart was beating erratically. You glanced at his chest. You slowly reached out and rested your hand on it. You had thought his costume would feel course, but it was kind of satiny, like a parachute. You ran your hand up a little farther. Pennywise leaned in closer to you, his brow furrowed. You tilted your chin up as he passed his nose inches from your hair. You heard him inhale, as though he was smelling you. You closed your eyes. You felt his nose graze your temple and felt a warmth spread through your belly as you felt his hand slowly snake around your back. Your breath was now coming out in short bursts. He started rubbing your back.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open. You glanced up at Pennywise. “Shit, I’ve been gone too long!” You pushed passed him and ran to the stairs. “I’m in here,” you called up to Mrs. Stout. 

“Well I was wondering where you had gone,” the librarian replied. She appeared at the top of the stairs. “Everything alright? Your face looks flushed.”

“I’m alright. I just…got overheated.”

“Well go splash some water on your face. No need for you to be passing out, especially not down there.” Mrs. Stout left.

You turned around, but Pennywise was gone, leaving you more confused than ever. There was no denying it now—you were definitely attracted to him. You had to see him again, as frightened as you were by your feelings. Just being around him was intoxicatingly. But was he dangerous? Was he a danger to you? You needed to find out.

@destiel-lover321  @hello-helianthus

#Pennywise #pennywise x reader #pennywise fanfiction #it movie 2017 #stephen king it #pennywise imagine

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

My Best Friend’s Wedding. (Part 4) (Pete Wentz x Reader)

~Wednesday, 21:00, 61 hours until the wedding~

“You should tell him.”

“See, this is exactly why I didn't want to tell you!”

“Technically, you didn't tell me, I figured it out,” Patrick pointed out from his seat on your hotel bed, watching you as you removed your make-up in the bathroom.

“Whatever,” you waved a hand dismissively in Patrick’s direction, “But now that you know, I’d really appreciate it if you didn't constantly try to coax me into telling Pete like (Y/B/F) does. Lord knows I have enough to deal with already,” you mumbled.

“(Y/N), you can’t just let him marry that fucking awful woman when he’d be way better off being with you instead!”

“He’s happy with her. That’s what’s important. Not how we feel about her.”

Patrick collapsed onto the bed and groaned in frustration. “You’re unbelievable!”

“So I’ve been told.”

 ~Thursday, 12:00, 46 hours until the wedding~

“That’s perfect. I’ll be there at around 6 to add all the trimmings. Okay. Alright, see you then. Thank you so much.” You hung up the call with the manager of the restaurant you’d booked for one of the locations for Meagan’s bachelorette party and plopped down onto one of the plush chairs.

“All good?” Patrick asked, setting a mojito down in front of you.

“So far,” you replied, reaching for your drink and holding it up, “Here’s hoping it stays like that.”

You clinked glasses with Patrick and took a sip, relishing in the coolness of the liquid.

“How’re your plans coming along?” you questioned.

“Great, actually. Everyone really pulled through to make sure it’ll be a awesome evening,” Patrick gushed excitedly.

“Must be nice,” you grumbled, “I had to do everything by myself.”

“I’m not surprised. In fact, I’m 99.9% sure that the bridesmaids aren’t even real people. They’re drones that Meagan had made in a lab for the sole purpose of following her around and cackling like a pack of hyenas.”

“That actually makes way too much sense for it not to be true,” you chuckled as your phone lit up, signalling that you had just received a text. Scanning over it, you started to rise from your seat. “Gotta go, babe. The t-shirts I ordered are ready.”

“You ordered t-shirts?” Patrick asked, awestruck.

“And goodie-bags, and I ordered a limo, and booked VIP tables at the best restaurant in the area as well as two different clubs.”

“I’m starting to think that you’ve been compromised.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing your purse and stuffing your cell inside, “Can you imagine what would happen if Meagan’s bachelorette party isn’t ‘totes ah-mazing’?”

“I see your point,” Patrick nodded, sipping his drink.

“Later, loser.”

 ~Thursday, 18:25, 39 hours and 35 minutes until the wedding~

“Everything looks wonderful, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Michael. Let’s just hope it’s to the bride’s liking.”

“I’m sure it will be.”

“Don’t be. You never know with this one,” you exhaled, running a hand through your hair.

“So, we have a bridezilla on our hands, hm?” Michael brought two fingers to his lips and whistled, immediately gaining the attention of the waiters scattered around the room. “We have a code 2 tonight, everyone. All hands on deck.”

Everyone instantly began to move at a pace that was five times faster than their usual one while you stood stunned by the level of organization and the manner in which every single waiter melted together to form one perfectly meshing machine.

“Code 2?” you questioned, turning to face Michael, “What’s code 1 and 3?”

“3 is a robbery and 1 is any other kind of life or death situation.”

“Wait, so a bridezilla is a higher up on the list than a robbery?”

“Women can be crazy, ma’am.”

“Believe me, I know,” you chuckled before averting your attention back to the amazing workers in front of you. “Michael?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Is there any chance of hiring them to take over the rest of my Maid of Honour duties?”

 ~Thursday, 21:00, 37 hours until the wedding~

Sitting at the hotel bar with your head rested on one hand, you thought about what horrible thing you must’ve done to deserve this much bad karma.

Even though you worked your ass off planning what you thought was an incredible bachelorette party, it hadn’t been good enough for Meagan.

She found fault with everything.

First, it was the limo. Apparently, it was too vintage and not modern enough. She also didn't like the font on the shirts you had made. Then, she got upset because the restaurant only had wine from 1970 onwards and not 1969, and hated the appetizers prepared by the world-renowned chef. When you got to the first club, she complained that the VIP table was in the corner of the club instead of the middle, which then resulted in her forcing the entire group to leave early and move on to the next club. But, your booking at the second club was only for 21:30, meaning you ended up back at the hotel bar. You, searching for your will to live at the bottom of a whiskey glass, and the Barbie squad on the couches in the middle room, well on their way to being wasted.

Just as you downed the last of the brown liquid in the glass, a noticeably anxious Patrick came running over to you.

“(Y/N)! Thank God!” he sighed, out of breath.

“’Trick, what’s wrong?” you questioned worriedly; concerned that something serious had happened.

“Can we combine the parties for the rest of the night?”

“What? Why? I thought you had everything planned.”

“We did! But then…,” he removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes before sitting down next to you. “Okay, so, we were supposed to start the night off at Marcus’s place, y’know, cause he lives close by. And obviously, you know about how – by poetic coincidence - he’s going through a divorce while being a groomsman at a wedding.”

“Uh huh.”

“Right, so, when we all arrived at his place, we found him sitting on the living room floor. On the floor, because, you see, there wasn’t any furniture. His wife had come while he was here at the hotel and cleaned out the house. Like, thoroughly out. No furniture. No glasses in the kitchen. No curtains. She left his clothes, still folded, in the place where the dresser used to be. In the closet, his clothes were on the floor because she’d taken the hangers. The booze he’d stocked up for the party? All gone. Except for one empty bottle that she left in the otherwise barren fridge. She took the mustard, even. So, for the next little while, he sat on the floor, shell-shocked and stunned. Occasionally, he’d answer a question in monotone grunts. Joe had brought a couple of six-packs with him, so we all sat on the floor with Marcus, drinking and tossing bottle caps at an empty bottle in the centre of the room. As you can imagine, it was extremely fun. Then, Pete found a deck of cards in a pile of random stuff she’d decided she didn’t want and had thrown into a corner. We threw those at the target for a while, until Andy made a discovery: she’d taken all the hearts, and left only the spades, clubs and diamonds. Marcus started crying. The next hour was spent largely trying to convince him that he was better off without her while he shook his head at Pete and wailed ‘Don’t do it, man. It isn’t worth it” over and over. So, yeah, good times.”

“Wow. I, uh… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“You can start by saying that we can come with to the next club,” Patrick said, hopefully.

“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” you questioned uncertainly, glancing over at the Barbie squad who were giggling uncontrollably, “I mean, poor Pete needs some time away from that.”

Patrick sighed. “I know, I know. But we don’t have a plan B and we can’t just not do anything.”

“Fine,” you groaned, Patrick smiling, “But I have a strong feeling that we’re both seriously gonna regret this.”

~Thursday, 21:45, 36 hours and 15 minutes until the wedding~

“See, Patrick? There are reasons bachelor and bachelorette parties are usually held separately from each other, and this is one of them!” you fumed, gesturing at the scene unfolding in front of everyone.

The club you were at had separate sections for male and female strippers and entertainment, so when everyone arrived, you and Patrick split up the group up once again and each headed to the respective sections. The only problem was that Meagan, being Meagan, got extremely jealous of the strippers dancing around Pete and decided to march up onto the stage instead, dancing and removing her clothes, much to Pete’s dismay.

“How was I supposed to know that this would happen?” Patrick asked frantically, gesturing to Meagan, who was still going and showed no sign of stopping any time soon.

“This has to stop,” you said, making your way onto the stage too, dragging Meagan off of it and back to your designated table.

“(Y/N), get your hands off of me!” Meagan struggled against your iron grip. “I honestly can’t believe you! It’s like you get more and more jealous which each passing second!”

“I’m not jealous,” you said, “I’m just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself even further.”

“Embarrassing myself?” she scoffed, “Listen here-“ she leaned forward, and as she did so, the candle on the table lit her hair on fire, prompting a blood-curdling scream from her.

All the hairspray in her hair fed the flames, and so did the vodka tonic she threw on herself in an attempt to put out the flames. Luckily, a neighbouring table threw a bucket of ice on her hair, and it was only her extensions that suffered damage.

“Taxi!”

~Thursday, 23:00, 35 hours until the wedding~

“I’m never gonna hear the fucking end of this,” you groaned, your head falling into your hands.

“It wasn’t your fault, (Y/N),” (Y/B/F) tried to comfort you, stroking your hair.

“Tell that to Meagan.”

“Everyone knows how insane she is,” Patrick spoke up, “No one takes anything she says literally. They all know how much she exaggerates everything.”

“Doesn’t stop it from being annoying as fuck, though. You know,” you got up and started pacing around your hotel room, “I’m so done. Honestly. I don't know how much more of it I can take.”

“(Y/N/N), talk to Pete,” (Y/B/F) said, “You need to tell him.”

The sound of the door closing sounded throughout the room.

“Tell me what?”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

#pete wentz #patrick stump #andy hurley #joe trohman #fob #fall out boy #brendon urie #patd #p!atd #panic at the disco #panic! at the disco #tyler joseph #josh dun #tøp #twenty one pilots #gerard way #mikey way #frank iero #ray toro #mcr #my chemical romance #imagine #imagines #fanfic #band #bands #band member imagine #band members #emo #music

[10000dayswithoutwings]

I was tagged by @9puzzlepiece9, thanks Jenna, sorry I took so long... was away from my lappy for a week. 

I tag: @rupko unless you’ve already done it.. and anyone who just feels like it I guess.

1. COKE OR PEPSI? Coke definitely, more specifically; Vanilla coke. 

2. DISNEY OR DREAMWORKS? Mmmmmmm actually not that bigger fan of either.... but Disney because Mulan. 

3. COFFEE OR TEA? Coffee <3

4. BOOKS OR MOVIES? Books forever

5. WINDOWS OR MAC? Linux. 

6. DC OR MARVEL? Marvel

7. X-BOX OR PLAYSTATION? Xbox, but only because I grew up with one and can’t be bothered adjusting to a new console or buying new games.

8. DRAGON AGE OR MASS EFFECT? Dragon Age (but actually Lost Odyssey)

9. NIGHT OWL OR EARLY RISER? Night Owl. 

10. CARDS OR CHESS? Chess

11. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? Chocolate

12. VANS OR CONVERSE? Converse :) High tops are the best

13. LAVELLAN, TREVELYAN, CADASH OR ADAAR? Don’t know what those words are, but I pick Trevelyan because it’s the prettiest.

14. FLUFF OR ANGST? Angst, but it has to be resolved with fluff. 

15. BEACH OR FOREST? Beach :)

16. DOGS OR CATS? Fish (Sorry, I make my own rules :P)

17. CLEAR SKIES OR RAIN? Thunderstorm!!

18. COOKING OR EATING OUT? Eating out because I actually can’t stand cooking. 

19. SPICY FOOD OR MILD FOOD? Spicy :)

20. HALLOWEEN/SAMHAIN OR SOLSTICE/YULE/CHRISTMAS? Christmas because I always drive down to see my family :)

21. A LITTLE TOO COLD OR A LITTLE TOO HOT? Freezing cold

22. CHOOSE A SUPERPOWER! The power to speak every language in the world.

23. ANIMATION OR LIVE ACTION? Live action

24. PARAGON OR RENEGADE? Renegade

25. BATHS OR SHOWERS? Baths with tea and candles and books. 

26. TEAM CAP OR TEAM IRONMAN? Team Black Widow

27. FANTASY OR SCIFI? Fantasy!!

28. THREE FAVOURITE QUOTES: they change all the time, but at the moment

-”Everything seemed at a distance, as if painted in a shade of white. He needed more wine; he needed it now. In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered his decision not to buy any more wine; but this seemed like the decision of another person, someone long ago and far away. In any case, he would stop later...” Unwrapped Sky by Rjurik Davidson

-“It was wise enough to know itself, and brave enough to BE itself, and wild enough to change itself while somehow staying altogether true.” The Slow Regard of Silent Things by Patrick Rothfuss

-”’It’s the same dagger,” Royce explained, “but from where you saw it was light while I saw it as dark. So who is right?" 

"Neither of us,” Hadrian said.

“No,” Royce said. “That’s the mistake people always make, and they make it because they can’t grasp the truth.”

“Which is?”

“That we’re both right. One truth doesn’t refute another. Truth doesn’t lie in the object, but in how we see it.” Rise of Empire by  Michael Sullivan (you know I wasn’t doing this without a Riyria quote)

29. YOUTUBE OR NETFLIX? youtube, then you don’t need netflix

30. HARRY POTTER OR PERCY JACKSON? Harry Potter!

31. WHEN DO I FEEL ACCOMPLISHED? never.

32. STAR WARS OR STAR TREK? Star Wars

33. PAPERBACK OR HARDBINDERS? Paperback, so much easier to hold. I get that they don’t last, but just buy the book again if you really like it.

34. HORROR OR ROM-COM? uuuurg action.

35. TV SHOWS OR MOVIES? TV Shows (show ((TWD)))

36. FAVOURITE ANIMAL: Hyena

37. FAVOURITE GENRE OF MUSIC: Metal \m/

38. LEAST FAVOURITE BOOK: rude question. I’m gunna say Cloudstreet by Tim Winton, only because I had to read it for school but didn’t enjoy it so it has bad memories for me. But if you don’t like a book, just don’t read it. You don’t have to have one that’s your ’least fav’

39. FAVOURITE SEASON: Winter :)

40. SONG THAT’S CURRENTLY STUCK IN YOUR HEAD: None, but as soon as I started thinking about songs that get stuck in your head, I started thinking about Cotton Eyed- Joe, so there you go.

41. WHAT KIND OF PAJAMAS DO YOU YOU WEAR? A fav Tshirt (must be black) and my long flannel PJ pants in winter. Tank top and tiny shorts (with anchors on them) in summer.

42. HOW MANY EXISTENTIAL CRISES DO YOU HAVE ON AN AVERAGE DAY? Well, I mean, it’s just one long ongoing one really. But I think about it maybe a couple times a day

43. SONG YOU WANT TO HAVE PLAYED AT YOUR FUNERAL: Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

44. FAVOURITE THEME SONG TO A TV SHOW: The one from That 70s Show

45. HARRY POTTER MOVIES OR BOOKS? Books!

46. YOU CAN MAKE YOUR OTP CANON; BUT YOU’LL FORGET THAT TUMBLR EXISTS. WILL YOU DO IT? Nah. Tumblr is great, and if I need my OTPs to be cannon then I can just go to AO3

47. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE FLOWERS? Carnations

48. A LANGUAGE YOU REALLY WANT TO LEARN: Cantonese

#there you go #hope i didnt bore you to death #thanks for the tag #9puzzlepiece9 #rupko

[ajokeformur-ray]

It tastes like you // Patrick Verona x Lilith // soft comfort.

I guess the reader and Pat don’t get much sleep bc they work so much so they just kinda give up tossing and turning in bed and make hot chocolate together 😂 at like 2am. ~ @jokershyena​

I suppose this is a good time to announce I now write for Patrick Verona too?????? Pffft surprise. I’mma sort it all out later lmao but for right now -

Also lmao it’s 2 am and I cried writing this because he’s too beautiful and his character is gorgeous on the inside too and i’m a weak bitch i guess lmao 

Word count: 1, 407 (under a thousand words you said... PFFFT have you met me????)

You had asked Patrick to spend the night with you under the pretence of working on a “group project” together. It was your excuse, anyway. Both of you knew the real reason:

You just didn’t want to leave Patrick’s side this night, and truth be told did he not want to leave yours, either. The two of you understood each other. You saw the other for who and how they really were, for what they really were, and in this mutual trust and understanding had the two of you formed an intense, close relationship. 

Neither of you had asked the other out, not really. You had just... kissed each other early one morning by way of greeting just before you went in for a test which neither of you had studied for. It had been completely unexpected and out of the blue, but it had felt right. 

And here you were, many kisses and a handful of months later, at two o’clock in the morning. You were lying side by side in the dark, your bodies protected from the natural chill of the night with the duvet which surrounded your forms. Patrick’s fingers had crept underneath your shirt, so important to the two of you was skin on skin contact, and he lazily dragged them up and down in fluid motions, his nails lightly scratching. Patrick was on his back but you lay on your side facing him, a leg hooked over his hip to keep the two of you anchored together.

“Starlight?”

You could hear his smile even through his hum to acknowledge that you had spoken.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Lil, it’s - “ Patrick craned his neck to get the glaring red numbers on your alarm clock. “Two in the morning. Bit early for sugar, isn’t it?”

“Pfft, no. You kissed me, like, two seconds ago.”

“... Yeah, fair point. Come on then, needy. Let’s get you some more sugar, hm?”

You whined as Patrick’s fingers slid out of your shirt, and he chuckled as he stood up with a cute little bounce, extending a hand out to you so that he could help you up. His fingers slid into the spaces between your own as he led you through the apartment into the kitchen, not letting your hand go as with his other hand did he effortlessly reach up into cupboards to pull out everything you needed for hot chocolate.

“How... do you know where everything is?” You were drowsy with sleepiness, intoxicated by Patrick’s scent, the ghost of his touches along your side and the weight of him so solidly pressed against you. So little did you sleep, especially with your anatomy assignment which was due tomorrow, and Patrick, never one to leave his loved ones behind, stayed up with you even when he was exhausted.

Patrick eyed you with slight concern as he raised your joined hands to his lips, peppering kisses all over the back of yours. “I know a lot more than you think I do, love.” With a smirk so wicked that it sent a chill down your spine did Patrick duck his head to kiss you, his full lips warm and soft against your own. He hummed appreciatively as you took a small step forward so that the front planes of your body were aligned, an arm snaking around your waist to pull you up flush against him.

“Hey, Patrick?”

“Hm? What?” He spoke against your lips, his hands gently cupping your face, his fingers splayed behind your ears and into your hair.

“Who’s my pretty baby boy, hm?”

A delighted gasp as did his eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Me! I’m your pretty boy. The prettiest. Right?” His smile died and a hint of insecurity crept into his voice as he gazed at you with those fathomless chocolate depths.

“The prettiest.” You kissed the tip of his nose and then reluctantly pulled yourself away from him so that you could make the hot chocolate. Patrick, bless him, decided to ‘help’ you by wrapping his arms around your waist and peppering your neck with kisses as he stood behind you.

When at last was the hot chocolate done did you fix two mugs of the same; for Patrick wanted it exactly the same way as you had yours. You had to take a drink from both mugs just to satisfy him, always did he claim that yours tasted better even though the drinks were exactly the same. So, to save your own drink, you made sure that Patrick saw you take a swig from both.

“Here, baby,” Your fingers brushed against his as you passed him the mug, the whipped cream on the top in the shape of a heart, and Patrick winked at you with another flash of that sinful smirk as he raised it to his lips and drank some, a pornagraphic moan leaving his throat as he did so.

“Oh,” Patrick’s eyes slid shut as his hot pink tongue darted out to lick the corner of his mouth where some cream was clinging to him (not that you could blame it, really), “This tastes almost as sweet as you. I ever tell you that?”

Were you blushing or was it the heat from the mug which you were cradling with both hands near your face? “Mm, once or twice. Tell me again?”

A dark chuckle as Patrick put his mug down and took yours from you, as well, ignoring your whine as he cupped your face in his hot hands, warmed were they by the drink, “You are the sweetest,” A kiss to your left cheek, “Most wonderful,” a kiss to your right cheek, “sexiest”, a kiss to your forehead, “hyena” a lingering kiss to your lips, “that I have ever met. I love you, Lil.”

Oh, your heart. “I love you too, baby boy. So much. You’re so precious and I love you.”

All the stars were in Patrick’s eyes as he gazed at you with sheer adoration. 

“Tell you what,” Patrick trailed his hands down your face, down your neck, down, down your arms, his skin ghosting across the surface of your own and making you shiver deliciously as once more did he take your hands in his larger ones, “Why don’t we take these to bed, put the books away and just... enjoy tonight? What d’ya say?”

You hesitated. You dearly wanted to but your parents, well... they knew so very little about just how hard you had to work and as a result were they a little harsher than they should be on you and your grades, just numbers were they but so weighted by expectation.

“I want, but - “

Patrick shook his head just once, his brows furrowing in slight impatience. “But what? Your parents? No, Lilith,” he sighed and cast his eyes upwards for just a minute before he put his hands on your shoulders, your palms suddenly feeling cold and empty with the ghost of his solid touch. “You can’t live your life by other people’s standards. You can take one night off. Don’t think I don’t see how far you push yourself for others. It’s great, and you should work hard, but not at your own expense. Now c’mon, let’s take these to bed. It’s cold.” Patrick frowned but you knew it was just a deflection; occasionally and without thought did he fall back on his hard ass reputation.

It was needless but you understood it more than most. How often had you done the same thing just to survive?

You picked up both mugs, the whipped cream melting now into the hot chocolate, flavoured with french vanilla creamer, and faithfully followed Patrick back through the apartment and into the bedroom, the bedsheets rumpled and already cooled.

Leaned up against the headboard as you were did the two of you talk quietly, enjoying this serene moment carved out of a hectic lifestyle and cruel reality together, the mugs quickly growing cold and kept warm only by your hands, so entranced by each other were the two of you that neither of you noticed the sun beginning to kiss the horizon as easily did time slip through your fingers like sand in an hourglass.

Time spent in love and in fun is never wasted, and with Patrick Verona (and he with you) did you each get to experience both things in abundance.

#patrick verona #patrick verona imagine #patrick verona x reader #10 things i hate about you #10 things i hate about you imagine #10 things i hate about you x reader #heath ledger #heath ledger x reader #heath ledger imagine

[ajokeformur-ray]

To be cradled in his arms, finally safe inside yourself // J x Lilith x Pat // OT3 comfort cuddles.

Summary: ^^^^ that’s it, that’s the fic. Lilith-comfort centric because darling, you’re their centrepiece!💜 J refers to himself as “Daddy” at least once in this fic; it’s a comfort for you so that’s why I included it.

Word count: 1, 432.

You were exhausted.

You never got any time for yourself during the day; you always had to be going out to work or running errands for others, and nothing ever stopped for you until it was the later hours of the day. You stayed up late and denied yourself sleep because you never got any time to yourself, you never got any time to relax and to just be and as a direct result of that were you always truly so tired. There was little which J or Pat could do to help you; they could only watch as you did your best and still was it not enough, and still were you pushed to almost beyond what you could handle each day. You were given little to no reprieve in your life and it was wearing you down more and more with every passing day.

Pat and J could only watch as you became a shadow of your former self; so tried and so tired within your unforgiving routine and of the countless demands which were placed upon you each day. With more that you received and the later it became in the evening before you could relax did you stay up later, as if you were able to compensate for the absolute lack of free time during the day... and so you were more tired the next day and on did the cycle go, as regular as clockwork.

On this day were you working... again. Pat had been wanting to have a film night with you and he had bought some of your favourite snackies, like goldfish, and there was a stack of your favourites on the coffee table. J had replenished your Monster stock and the cans were chilling in the fridge. They would be ready and waiting for you, ripe for the taking. Everything was prepared and both men had cleared their schedules so that they could spend some real time with you this evening; both of them so dearly missed you, though of course was only one of them vocal about it. J was always the more subtle of your two loves and you loved him for it. The plan for the film night was postponed until after you finished work, and as the door closed behind you as you left did both men realise that you were in danger of becoming physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually exhausted.

They had to act now.

Indeed, when you came home from work, tired and exhausted and fed up of being spoken to like you were nothing more than a piece of the booth you worked in; you were something to be spoken at rather than spoken to, Pat and J descended upon you like the angels that they are and made sure that you got showered and ready for bed. Dinner was one of your favourites and J made sure that you ate every bite. Sassy were you and so you showed J that each mouthful was swallowed. Pat, for all his humour, would chuckle and he kissed you after each time so that, as you progressed further into your meal did you begin to taste Pat around the food he had made for you.

J kept just as much of a watchful eye on you as you ate. “Ya’ gotta eat it all, babydoll. Daddy won’t acc-ept anything less.” Even as he spoke did J’s eyes eyes fall upon your empty plate. “Atta’ girl,” the heartfelt praise made you smile and you saw the minute upward quirk of J’s own lips in response. Oh, how deeply in love the two of you were after twelve years together. There would only be more and more time together, so destined to be were the two of you. Planets had collided and stars had lived and died and from their ashes had the two of you formed; written were you like constellations. Soulmates would always find each other, no matter how far either of you went or who you became or even if you spent time apart, and you and J were never any different. You had spent time apart once, and it had been a long time, but absence did make the heart grow fonder. In recent years had you become involved as the romantic couple which you were today and Patrick had very recently joined you.

He and J were still finding their way together and sometimes did you have to act as a mediator between the two of them, but when either of them was threatened by something or someone was the other there to defend and to protect, and it spoke loudly about how they truly felt about each other. They were as in love with each other as you were with the both of them; your love languages as individuals were quiet and for some, difficult to hear when spoken, but for each other were your love languages loud and clear, like a bell. Indeed did such a beautiful noise ring off into the atmosphere when the three of you were together, undeniable was your connection even to the most sceptic and ill intended outsider.

J took the plate from you with one hand and he affectionately ruffled your hair with the other. You huffed and pulled your head back in mock irritation, and one of the stitches of J’s leather gloves snagged on your hair. “Ow, shit, J - “ J shushed you thrice with a touch of impatience as Pat easily and naturally took the plate from J, knowing J’s body language as well as he knew your own by now, and J used his newly free hand to ease your hair free with as little pain as possible. You were in no mood for this and you all knew it.

“I got’cha, Hyena, easy,” J shushed you again as his hand rested atop your head for a moment and then he bent down at the waist to press an almost bruising kiss to your forehead. You could feel the outline of his teeth through the plush flesh of his full lips and you closed your eyes so that you could fully sink into the affectionate gesture and enjoy everything that J was giving to you. So relaxed were you now that you yawned hard enough for your jaw to crack and Pat was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes again.

“Hey, girlie,” A gentle touch to your cheek was accompanied with the slow stroking of fingers, “How about we get you to bed so you can get some sleep, huh?” Pat’s voice was soft, caring, and the deep tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. The hand which was on your face moved down to grab your hand, hsi fingers sliding easily into the spaces between your own, and Pat tugged you up, up, until you were standing up to your full height. Pat pressed a kiss to the same space where J had just bestowed his own love, and Pat led you to the bathroom and then to the bedroom, where you got ready for bed. J, for his part, carried out his checks, and when at last were you all ready for bed and J was done, the world was put away for the day.

Bedtime was your favourite time of day because the world melted away and it was only you with your two greatest loves. There were no responsibilities, no duties, nothing you had to do or be.... you could simply be yourself and the two men, burdened with reputations neither had necessarily asked for. though they worked them to their advantage when it was necessary, could join you in being their most genuine, freest selves. It took no time at all for the three of you to get comfortable in what felt most natural to you, and with murmured declarations of love, quiet shushing from J and gentle murmurs of comfort from Pat, you fell asleep surrounded by warmth, love and safety. You deserved nothing less than this and though you were stressed beyond belief and completely shrouded in the darkness which was within you, the darkness which called out to the darknesses in both Pat and J and received a call in response, meant to be were you three, you knew that you would be able to make it through every rise and fall, for your clown and your Aussie would allow nothing less than the best for their precious Hyena, for their beautiful One, for their Lilith.

For their you.

HL OT3: @tsukiakarinobara    @1-800-dead-inside  @antonija89 @hotpacino  @call-me-harley-quinn @jokershyena

#patrick x ledger!joker x lilith #ledger!joker x patrick x lilith #heath ledger #ledger!joker #patrick verona imagine #10 things i hate about you #tdk

[ajokeformur-ray]

Arrows straight to my heart // J x Patrick x Lilith // comfort.

Summary: Beaten down by the world, your men bring you back home not only to themselves... but to yourself, as well. The world can do what it wants to Patrick and to J, but to their Hyena? Oh, no. You’re safe with them, darling. They’re always there for you.

A/N: Because fuck everyone who dared to hurt Lilith today. You’re all cowards and if you have any more issues with her, then you come to me. You do not mess with my friends. Ever.

Fully personalised with permission for @jokershyena; you deserve this and more, my dear. I’m so, so sorry. You’re in my thoughts. I’m so so so proud of you and I know that J, Pat, Eric, Loki and Heath are, too! <3

Word count: 1, 862.

Today could just go and sit on an especially prickly cactus.

You stared at the screen of your laptop, the inside of your forehead growing hot. You wanted to look away, oh, how you wanted to shut the lid of your laptop and walk away, to physically separate yourself from the vile and repulsive things which people, strangers, were saying about you, to you. You wanted so desperately to just unwind the last ten seconds of your life so that you had never opened your mail, so that you had never read someone’s unwarranted opinion about something, someone, so near and so dear to your heart.

But you couldn’t.

Words, once they were translated from one’s mind, from one’s heart, onto the tip of one’s tongue, could never be taken back. They could never be retracted or changed. They could linger in the air, travelling on sound waves which burrowed deep inside your mind and set up home there. Especially words like this - words which came from those who didn’t understand, those who didn’t know what it felt like, what it meant, to struggle and to suffer in all the ways that you did. 

Someone had just aimed an arrow straight at your heart... and they hadn’t missed.

Your breath caught in your throat and tears blurred your vision. Look away, look away. Just delete it, delete it ignore it just delete... like a broken record did your thoughts stutter across your mind. You were thinking everything and nothing all at once, feeling everything and nothing all at once. You could just delete the message right now and never think about it again. You could just post it and let it sit there on your blog without a response. You could just ignore it. You could just walk away. You could deactivate your account. You could just block the anon... options, reactions, all circled through your mind and you didn’t know which one to pick. What was the more mature one, the one which made the most sense?

You didn’t know.

What you were acutely aware of, however, was the fact that tears, hot and heavy, spilled down your cheeks. You felt like you were going to be sick, your entire body shaking as still were you unable to tear your eyes away from your laptop, something so precious to you. The people calling you these things were cowards hiding behind a screen but their words, their scorn, cut you deep. Your cursor hovered over the ‘delete’ button, your eyes examined the ‘report’ and ‘block’ buttons as you thought how best to respond to the situation... but then a sob ripped out of your throat and you covered your face with your hands, the wounds which your soul already tried to heal each and every day ripping open all over again at the hands of someone who knew not the damage they could inflict with a few well chosen words.

Patrick was the one who saw you first. He had come out of the kitchen with a sweating can of ice cold Monster for you but he could tell even from the back that there was just something wrong about the way you were sat. Your shoulders were stiff, even hunched over your laptop, and he could just tell that something was wrong, so well did he know you. “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” Pat’s dark curls were all over his face as he dashed over so that he could see you, his school bag dangling off one shoulder. He dumped it unceremoniously on the floor as he flopped down beside you on the sofa, one arm automatically encircling your shoulders as he tugged you into his broad chest. You swung an arm over his waist and pressed your face into the dark grey cotton shirt he was wearing. He smelled of apples, of stale cigarette smoke and of leather and you felt more tears make their way down your cheeks. 

Not feeling like you could speak, you used your other hand to push your laptop from your lap onto Pat’s. He took the hint and with his own free hand, pushed up the laptop from the bottom so that he could see the screen clearly. You felt the moment he realised what he was looking at. You heard his heartbeat pick up underneath your ear, you heard him swallow thickly, you heard his sharp intake of breath and the way that he licked his lips; trying desperately was he to make sense of what he was reading, just as you had. Pat ducked his head so that he could press a kiss to the top of your head, his full lips shaking as he tried to both give and receive comfort in equal measures.

“It’s okay, Pat,” You tried to reassure him, you did, but Pat shook his head and tilted towards so that he could rest his cheek on the crown of your head as he pulled you more securely into his lap, the laptop rested precariously on the arm of the sofa. Truthfully, even though your laptop was your prized possession, you could barely bring yourself to care about it right now. J could always just buy you a new one on the off chance that this one fell and broke. Pat had always had good and fast reflexes so he would probably catch your laptop if it so much as wobbled. “Just some assholes on the internet.”

Pat smiled but it was a gesture without humour. “Yeah, well, this isn’t just a reaction to some assholes on the internet. Talk to me, Lilith.”

“About what, hm?” J’s low voice suddenly came from the doorway and you would have jumped, were it not for Pat’s tight arms around you. You were okay, you were safe. “What’s, ah - what’s bitin’ ya, doll?” J’s head was tilted so far to the side that his ear was almost touching his shoulder, his hair, which was in desperate need both of a wash and of a dye job, hung limp, straggly. 

You shrugged, knowing as you did all the while that Pat and J were having a conversation with just their eyes, so well did they know each other. All three of you knew and loved each other so deeply. It was such a unique dynamic and in the very early days of your relationship had it been touch and go between J and Pat, but it worked. “Oh, you know... just people accusing me of lovely things.”

“What?” J clicked the ‘t’, his face set and his jaw muscles ticking as he extended one hand and flexed it towards Pat. In any other mood, you would have smiled at J’s grabby hand, but right now you just cried even harder, the weight in your chest so heavy and so sickly that you were sure that you were going to be sick. Pat handed over the laptop and J barely glanced at the screen before he squinted and looked at you, at Pat, and then back to the screen. “This - “ he waved the laptop around and you eyed it carefully. J caught your gaze and put the laptop down on the coffee table, “Is a. Bad joke. I don’t like it. Not. One. Bit.”

“Nor do I.” You mumbled, dashing your hand across your face impatiently.

It was then that J really saw you and his entire face dropped. “You’re, ah - really hurt by this, aren’t’cha?”

“Well, yeah, J! You saw the things people were saying about me!”

“... Yeah.” J came forward, his steps slow, careful and measured before he reached you, cuddled into Pat’s side. “Babydoll, when have ya’ ever cared what people thought about ya’, hm?”

“This is different, J, and you know it. They said - they said that I - “ Your breathing picked up, your tears fell faster, your forehead grew hotter and you heard Pat grunt quietly in exertion as he lifted you up and slid you onto his lap, his knees bouncing a little beneath you in an attempt to make you even try to smile, his lips at your ear as he whispered your name over and over and over, like a litany, his lips pursing as he feathered kisses all over your temple.

“Shush, shush, shush,” J stopped just in front of you and Pat shuffled over so that J could squeeze his broad frame beside you on the sofa. He put an arm around Pat’s waist and pulled himself into you so that even though you were seated atop Pat’s lap were you also cuddled into J’s side. Gasoline, gunpowder, greasepaint, a hint of sweat, coupled with the scent of Pat, of your own shampoo, of Monster... oh, but surely this was heaven. Surely you had died and ascended to a higher plane of existence; there was no other explanation as to how this moment was real, how it was yours. “Now, I know that you know that it ain’t easy to have what ya’ have, hm? How many nights, how many days, do ya’ struggle, not knowing what to do... and then you do it. How often do ya’ cry to me about things ya’ can’t control, but the next day you face yourself and get it done? How often have I seen ya’ kill ya’self for someone else, even when they don’t deserve it, hm? You’re so strong and so brave for me, aren’t’cha? My Hyena.” A scoff from Pat, a grumble from J, and then, “Oh, fine,” He eye rolled, adjusted his braces, and there was a genuine smile on his face as he said, “Our Hyena.”

You choked on a sob and J shushed you quietly. It was a low, soothing sound, and Pat’s arms tightened around you as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and pressed sweet kisses there, his full lips warm against your heated flesh. “Let it out, babydoll. We got’cha. Minty and I aren’t goin’ anywhere.”

“I’m so proud of you, Lil,” Patrick whispered, his breath gently playing with the hairs closest to his mouth, “Those fucking assholes don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You smiled at the coarseness of Pat’s words; it was at total odds with his sweet and gentle temperament. “Thank you.” Both of you. 

J pressed a kiss to your cheek, the cool tip of his painted nose pressing against your face, his breath ghosting across your skin. “Now - how about gettin’ me those IP addresses, hm? Daddy’s got some calls to make for his babydoll.”

You flushed and Pat chuckled darkly, knowing that though you weren’t okay, you really weren’t okay, that you would be. That, just like everything else which ever came your way, you would feel what had to be felt for the time that it demanded to be, and then you would emerge on top stronger than ever. But until then, you had your clown and your koala, and you’d be just fine. There was nothing you couldn’t do without them by your side.

You were strong individuals, but together, oh... together were you unbeatable.

#heath ledger #heath ledger imagine #ledger!joker #ledger!joker imagine #patrick verona #patrick verona imagine #10 things i hate about you #10 things i hate about you imagine

[ajokeformur-ray]

There’s no name for it // J x Lilith x Pat (OT3) // cuddles.

I want to feel safe with my back pressed against J and Pat can pet me as they body watch over me. I need it, even when I’m sleeping. @jokershyena

LMAO you probably were just saying this without meaning for me to write it for you but woops!! My hand slipped!! 😉 

Unedited bc it’s almost 4 AM and I’m lazy.

Word count: 2, 274.

Strategically chosen GIFs skksks.

It was no secret that Patrick Verona and J were your greatest and most cherished loves. They were the reason that you lived and breathed, the reason that you lived your life the way that you did. You faced so many more struggles than anyone should ever have to and though every day did you crave to be told the punchline of the bad joke known as life, you knew that it was to remain untold for quite some time yet. You lived and you loved for your loves, but, oh, how you wanted to sink into royal purple and charcoal grey and never resurface. If love was a song, then theirs was the one which you wanted to hear again and again for the rest of your life, the music playing on repeat, though each day would the lyrics differ, so changeable were the man who held your trashed and battered heart in their hands.  

All you could think of this day while you were at work and dealing with customers who treated you like you were a mind reader or like you were a machine, like you didn’t know any better or like you knew it all, was how desperately you wanted to be intertwined with the two most precious beings in your life. One, a chaotic clown and the other, a clingy koala. One, a man known only as a terrorist to the city but to you was he your partner in life and in crime. The other, a bad boy with a reputation he hadn’t wanted or asked for, but to you was he the sweetest pretty boy you had ever known in your life or would ever know. In the end, it didn’t matter who the city said that they were, for you knew who they really were, and you loved them all the more for the things no one else but you could see. You were so empathetic and so wise and understanding a soul that you possessed the most wonderful knack of being able to see people who who they really were, and it was largely why you were so connected to J and Pat, and why they were so connected to you; for all three of you saw and loved each other for precisely who you all were.

Your commute on the way home passed in a flash; so outside of yourself were you and so preoccupied were you with what was waiting for you at home - who was waiting for you at home. As thoughts of J, who was undoubtedly out causing chaos while you had been at work, filled your mind, you thought also of Patrick and how he was; you missed your Peppermint and you missed your J. Oh, how your poor heart ached to think of them. How beautiful their souls were; they were the literal and physical embodiment of sunshine for you. Neither of them had been around recently, so busy were the three of you with your own lives and so distant were you from them. It wasn’t unusual for you to emotionally distance yourself, to pull away, when you weren’t feeling so good, and while both of your men understood it and gave you the space that you asked for, they would only accept it for so long; you didn’t really want to be away from them, no matter what you said.

It had been decided between J and Pat when it had been time for you to leave work that enough was enough. They had been watching you just barely survive on the very little that you ate and the even less of that amount which you were able to keep down, they had been watching you deal with stress fevers and stomach aches so bad that it felt like your appendix was pressing down on your stomach. They had been watching you survive off of naps and snatches of sleep, holding your dark hair back for you when you were sick... J and Pat had been there with you through the worst of the physical and mental anguish which you had been going through and up until tonight had they felt utterly useless in how to help you best. All they could do, knowing of you and what you went through every day as you did, was to just be there for you and make sure that you could, even when you were positively drowning within the murky waters of your own psyche every day, feel their love for you.

All they wanted to do was to love you and to be loved by you. You were their Hyena, their Lilith, their lives and their love. Because of you, both men had somewhere, someone that they could call a home. You kept their hearts safe, their lives intact; each and every day did J and Pat know that they were more than what the world thought of them and as such did they work to protect themselves so that they could home to you. But tonight... oh, but tonight would they be the ones to bring you home. Indeed, as you crossed the threshold of your apartment and began to shed your outer layers was J there was a can of Monster; ice cold and cracked, all ready for you. He was the first thing you saw upon entering the apartment but even so could you barely crack a smile for him.

J cooed mockingly. “Here ya’ go - a Monster for my monster.” As you reached out for the drink did J hold the can back, “A-ta-ta, no. I want pay-ment first.” Pat chuckled and took the can from J, which had been wordlessly held out to the younger of the two. This was a routine and it was one which you all enjoyed, and indeed as you reached up to cup J’s painted face in your hands, your thumbs on the sharp corners of his jaw, did your clown hum contemplatively as you pressed your lips to his. You threw yourself into the kiss and J caught you, as always he did, and he kissed you so hard that his teeth were felt as outlines against your own lips. J stole the very breath from your lungs but then replaced it with his own as in numerous ways did he breathe life back into you, the profoundly deep and rich love which J felt for you seeping into the pores of your skin and healing you from the inside out.

“Whoa, easy,” Pat chuckled, his hand on your shoulder. The heat from his hand seeped into your skin, through your shirt, and offered the same peace to your soul that J did, “Let her breathe, J,” The teasing in Pat’s voice made all three of you smile despite the obvious tension which rested in the air between you; all three of you were aware of why everyone was home at the same time but none of you wanted to voice it. So much of your relationship with the two men was left unsaid because you all knew each other so well that it didn’t have to be said.

“She’s fine, kiddo. Lil’s used ta’ not breathin’ because of me,” J cackled as he relinquished his hold on you and you gasped, truly dizzy from the sheer amount of love which J had just shown you. You barely had time to get used to what had just happened before another set of warm and full lips were on yours; this time was the kiss gentle, reverent. Pat kissed you for less time than J had done, so aware was he of how tired, truly tired, you were. He pushed the can of Monster into your hand at the same moment as he pulled away and you took a swig of Monster. In that one swallow could you taste remnants of J and Pat and the Monster itself and you closed your eyes in real and true love. Oh, but all you could feel was love.

“How was work, Lil?” Pat wound an arm around your shoulders, his fingers in your hair, and his lips at your temple. He feathered a series of kisses along the side of your face as he walked with you to the bathroom. He and J had made sure that everything was ready for you when you came home so that you only had to take care of yourself; something you rarely, if ever, did for yourself without some kind of extrinsic motivation. You were the kind of person who didn’t live for yourself, but for others, and though it broke your men’s hearts did they also understand why, for they lived for other people, too. In the three of you loving and living for each other did you also inevitably live and love for your own selves.

“Work was... work.” You shrugged and Pat hummed in sympathy. He left you at the bathroom door with J, who needed to shower as well (it was something he only did with you), and then did Pat wait patiently in bed for his reasons to live to shower and then join him; as always the two of you did. You and J rushed through your shower, neither of you talking beyond asking the other for the shampoo or the soap (J used way too much of yours and left a mess in the bathroom which you were too tired to deal with right now), and quickly did you both come home to Pat. Though all three of you resided within the same apartment, none of us were home without the presence of the other two in any given room with you. Indeed was home not a place, but two people, and the meeting of three sets of chocolate eyes only made it easier for the keys to your hearts to unlock your souls, to set free all three of you from the constraints of all the world told you that you had to be, of all the world told you that you were. Oh, but no one knew you or saw you or loved you as deeply as J and Pat did.

“Come on to bed, Lilith. You need to lie down with us and go to sleep.” Pat was laying on his side facing the door, the duvet on the other side pulled right back so that you could join him easily. You would sleep in the middle of the two men and J would sleep on the side closest to the door once he had carried out his nightly routine of checking all of the locks and entry points of the apartment for any kind of external threat; so protective and so vigilant was he.

You groaned. “Sleep is good.” Your body sank with palpable relief into the mattress and you groaned again as you shuffled across the expanse. You laid down facing Pat, your dark hair mingling with his own dark curls on his pillow. and his arm encircled your waist. You always slept on your stomach but while you were waiting for J to finish shaking his hair out like a dog would you lay facing your youngest life partner. He was closer in age to you than J was and J was so proud of the two of you that it felt like his heart would break from his chest in his sheer need to convey such an innate sense of pride to the both of you. Pat was warm and soft, his eyes pools of melted chocolate, and you felt those trashed and scattered parts of yourself click back into place as the bedroom door closed behind you with a soft but firm click as finally was the world shut out and only the love which existed between you in the safe confines of these four walls was allowed within the reality which the three of you would know until morning.

The bed dipped as for once J didn’t throw himself into the bed with you, but rather did he ease himself in; much like the way he had eased himself into loving you and caring for you and then Pat, further down the line when his tried and tired heart had expanded such that he could comfortably fit another being in there beside you. “Get,  ah - get some rest, babydoll. Daddy’s got’cha, hm? Ya’ safe with me and Minty.” J shuffled across the mattress until he was pressed solidly against your back. His arm was around you and his fingers were laced between Pat’s, so that all three of you were inexplicably linked bodies, hearts, minds and souls in this moment. J moved to turn off the bedside light and then he settled in with you. And finally, finally, were you sent off to sleep in the arms of your angels. You were safe and warm and loved, for all that you were and all that you would ever be, and no matter what, no matter how dark things got for you, no matter how bad you felt or how rough and choppy the internal waters you were forced to wade through every day became, J and Pat would always, always love you, support you, and be there for you. You had more worth and value than you knew and you mattered, dearheart, beyond comprehension.

On this night and every night hereafter would you sink into royal purple and charcoal grey, knowing all along that you were right where you belonged, for in your clown and your koala had your soul found its forever home.

#heath ledger #patrick verona #ledger joker #pat x j x lilith #j x pat x lilith

[ajokeformur-ray]

Worst joke yet // J x Lilith x Pat.

Summary: Self-loathing is creeping in and making itself known. You feel sick, heavy. Disgusting. Your feelings are real and valid and important and they carry as much weight as something tangible and real. J and Pat love jokes and anecdotes as much as you, but there’s one topic which they do not find funny; and that’s the topic of your self-perception.

A/N: Darling, I am so, so sorry. You are so beautiful, inside and out. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened and everything that you’ve ever gone through. You’re so strong and so brave and I just know that J, Pat, Loki, Eric and Heath love you so, so much and they’re so very proud of you, just as I am.

Unedited because I saw your post and I had to do something. My heart’s bleeding for you. I love you.

Word count: 2, 470. (Don’t you dare tell me off or feel guilty; you deserve all of this and more).

You woke up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all.

You felt heavy, weighed down by your own existence. Most days was it just your mind which you had troubles dealing with; traumas, pains, worries, fears, anxieties, doubts, mental illnesses... all these and more threatened to poison you against yourself each and every day, and though you struggled silently, you still lived. You still exerted an extreme effort to get through every day as best as you could and though you never felt like it was enough for anyone, including yourself, you still fell into bed for brief naps at various points of the day knowing that you had tried. 

Sometimes was it more than enough to just try. Sometimes was trying the bravest, most selfless thing you could do. You could admit to yourself that you weren’t trying for you, but rather were you trying for your two greatest loves: Patrick Verona and J. You lived every single day for them, your daily goal was to make them proud of you. You knew, somewhere deep within yourself, that you never had to try to make them proud of you, that they simply and most naturally were just because you were you, but even still did you push yourself, to do more and to be more. You could also admit, even to yourself, that you never felt like you were enough.

But today... oh, today you had woken up hating your body. Your entire body was just... too much. You lay under the bedsheets, intensely aware of the material against your bare legs. Even laying down you just felt so heavy. You were so painfully aware of every single part of you which was resting against the mattress. Ugh, you felt so disgusting and awful. Inside your head did you murmur an apology to J and to Pat... why did they put up with you? You couldn’t even offer them your body as compensation for who you were, hell, even for who you weren’t. You just weren’t ever enough no matter how hard you tried; no one was ever satisfied with you, least of all you, and your body was supposed to be the highlight of your existence, the very best of you... 

And you couldn’t even do that.

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes and you sighed, rolled over and burrowed your face into Pat’s section of your pillow. There were two pillows; yours and J’s. Pat never used his and it often got chucked to the end of the bed at night; so close to the both of you did Pat lay that his head rested on your pillow and on J’s. The scents of apples, of stale cigarette smoke, of cheap but spicy cologne, of Pat, and then of gasoline, gunpowder, greasepaint and of an undertone of sweat, of J, all came together into one heady scent and you pushed your face into the crease where the two pillows met so that you could feel both of your loves all at the same time.

Oh, how desperately you wanted them with you. You knew not where either of them were. Of course they’re gone when I need them most, you thought bitterly. You felt so badly within yourself that you couldn’t bring yourself to even let yourself think of your loves. What was the point? There was nothing good about you, physically or mentally. So, then why - 

“Well, good morn-ing, beautiful.” You almost jumped as J spoke from the doorway, his head tilted at such an angle that his ear was almost touching his shoulder as he walked over to you with careful, measured steps. As he reached you, a hand came to brush errant strands of dark hair away from your face, “And you are... beautiful.”

“Hi, J.” You smiled as best as you could for J, you did, but he squinted at you, disbelieving. So well did he know you that he knew even without you saying anything that you weren’t okay, that you needed him. You rolled closer to J, wanting more of all of him, and J grunted as his hand curved to the shape of your cheek, his gloved finger stroking soothingly. His movements were as calculated as his steps had been, making a concerted effort to be gentle to you. If only he knew that he already was gentle with you; he had some innate softness, especially when it came to you. It was so special just how deeply he loved you and Pat.

“What’s bitin’ ya, doll? Ya’ just woke up. C’mon, scooch over, and - Minty!” J got underneath the duvet with you as he called for Pat, making sure to not be too loud, his arms immediately encircling your waist. You sighed, both wanting to move away from J’s touch and wanting to sink into it, and almost as soon as he had been called, the younger man came barreling into the room, dark curls flying. He had been waiting. For you. Pat would always be there for you when you needed him, no matter what.

“What? What’d I miss? Ah - hey, sleeping beauty.” Pat winked at you and you smiled, you smiled, feeling some of that heaviness leave you soul as you took in Pat’s echoing smile. J growled lightly; pleased was he that you had actually smiled. It meant that you weren’t too far down the rabbit hole of your own mind.

“We got a, uh - situation with our hyena. She’s not, ah - not good.”

Immediately did Pat’s bright eyes hone in on you, a look of tender love and understanding in his eyes. “What is it, love?” As he spoke did he make his way over to the bed, climbing in on the other side of you so that you were safely and perfectly cushioned between your two greatest loves. Their fingers were interlocked over your waist, Pat’s leg between yours and J’s chest firmly pressed to your back. All of Pat was aligned to your front and all of J was aligned to your back. You were sandwiched in the best way between your koala and your clown.

Pat tipped his head so that he could press a firm, loving kiss to the very centre of your forehead, right between your eyebrows, and J mumbled something as he kissed the back of your head, leaning forward slightly so that he could nuzzle his face into your neck, his full lips pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin there. There was nothing sexual in this, but it was reassuring; J was telling you that he was there with you, that he was right beside you, that he wasn’t going anywhere. And though he didn’t say those three words, spoken too little and yet not enough, you knew, you knew what J was saying to you.

“Talk to us, babydoll. Tell daddy what’s wrong, hm?”

“I hate myself.” Those three words, like venom, dripped off the end of your tongue and shocked both Pat and J. 

Pat inhaled sharply and mumbled a truly heartbroken “no” as he started to slowly pepper your face with kisses, and J’s fingers tightened on your skin as he growled lowly. “That is a ba-ad joke, Lilith.” The way J drew out the word immediately told you that he knew how serious this was.

You shook your head, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes both at the gentleness from Pat and the roughness from J; so similar yet so contrasting were they. “I’m not joking.” Your tears fell hot and fast down your face but they never poured further down your cheeks than the end of your nose, so attentive and so efficient was Pat at catching those tears. “I mean it. I hate everything. I hate my voice... it’s not pretty like other girls. My gross stomach, ugh I just want to use your knife and cut it all off.” Insecurity after insecurity poured from your lips and your boys listened in silence, their bodies too still against yours, their faces too composed. “And I’m not even anything special, my hair is such a bad colour and I just - “

“Enough.” J growled the word through almost gritted teeth as he moved so that he was kneeling beside you on the bed. Pat remained closed with you, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss to your face, his lips replacing those salty tear streaks with marks of real love. “Look, listen, - “ J reached down and patted the top of your head, his gloved fingers smoothing your hair away from your face, “It ain’t easy having what you have and doing what ya’ do. And to top it all off, your body - “ his eyes moved appreciatively over your body, a gleam in his dark eyes which you had seen many a time since you had become involved with him, “gets ya through it all. Ya’ don’t gotta eat less, that’s stupid. Ya’ll just feel worse. Ya’ gotta eat, doll, so enjoy one of life’s many pleasures, hm? And - the makeup? Babydoll, you. are. beautiful. You don’t need that on ya face. Unless you want to.” J shrugged easily, “Telling ya’ to diet, too, is also stupid. Your body is clever, hm? It knows what it needs and when... so give it what it wants. Don’t deny yourself anything. Your body is yours and you’re mine - so take care of you. All of you.” J began to click his ‘T’s towards the end of his speech, truly angered was he by the way you were talking about yourself, even though he didn’t understand why. He cared nothing for physical appearance and he didn’t see why you did, either, but he would be there for you. It was the least he could do.

While J was making his point, kneeling on the bed beside you, almost looming over you - he needed to see your face, he needed to see that you understood -  Pat was still pressing kisses to your face, your neck... anywhere and everywhere he could reach did Pat leave kisses. As Pat continued to kiss you, J laid back down beside you, the moment of Absolute Attention acquired, and bit off his gloves one by one, peeling them off and leaving his hands bare. Fingers splayed so that he could touch as much of you as he could in one go did J’s hands travel up and down your body like the well known, beloved terrain that it was, fingers squeezing your thighs, rubbing at your stomach; avoiding, of course, all those areas you didn’t want to be touched, couldn’t be touched for reasons better left unsaid. He loved on you with just his hands, appreciating, while Pat whispered compliments which contradicted every negative thing you had just said.

“You’re beautiful, Lilith.” A kiss to the centre of your forehead. “Intelligent.” A kiss to your right temple. “Funny.” A kiss to your right cheek. “Compassionate.” A kiss to the right corner of your mouth. You tilted your face to the side, wanting, but Pat was determined to finish making his own point, outspoken was he. “Generous.” A kiss to your left temple. “Hardworking.” A kiss to your left cheek. “Kind.” A kiss to the tip of your nose. “Stubborn - not a bad thing, you know. Sometimes it’s important to stick to your truth.” A kiss to the left corner of your mouth. “Ours.” Finally, finally, did Pat claim your lips with his in a fiery kiss which left your head spinning, unable to think of your own name were you.

J’s hands finally stilled on your body but he didn’t let you go. J would never let you go, especially if he knew that you were feeling the way that you were. “My turn.” As Pat pulled away, J’s hand slid gracefully up your arm, fitted to the curve of your shoulder and then up, skipping your neck entirely before he cupped your chin in one hand and turned you around to face him completely so that he could kiss you, your toes curling into the duvet.

As he pulled away, the tip of his painted nose brushing against yours, J said, “Stop tearin’ yourself down, would ya? Life’s much easier when ya’ on your own side, Lil.” 

You weren’t entirely convinced and you did still feel bad, but you trusted J and Pat. They’d never lie to you, not ever.

“We love you, Lilith.” Pat glared playfully at J when the older man grunted and rolled his eyes. “You’ve never disappointed me and I’ve never not been proud of you, and I know it’s the same for that grumpy man over there.” His smirk was positively dazzling and though J grumbled and burrowed into your back, J let it slide. This wasn’t about him, this was about you and you needed the both of them so badly. “Don’t ever let anyone, ever, make you feel like you don’t deserve to feel good about yourself, about your body. You are... wow.”

J scoffed at Pat’s lack of articulation but you all knew what he meant.

“Thank you, Peppermint.” You kissed him tenderly, affectionately, and you felt Pat smile against your lips, your own curving upwards in response. “And you -” You reached a hand back, fingers sliding into slightly greasy hair. You’d get him into the shower later, no matter what he said, “Thank you.” J’s arms only tightened around you.

“We got’cha. You’re not something we put up with or something to deal with or any of that other stuff ya’ thinkin’. You’re you and you have us because of that.” His inflexions suggested offense, insulted was he by the way you were insulting yourself.

“I’m sorry.” Despite J’s words, you were feeling that way, and J shushed you roughly, the harsh sound almost drowned out Pat’s coo of love and of understanding. You hadn’t said much, not really, and though they had listened to what you said, they responded to what you hadn’t, so emotionally intuitive were they and so intimately did they know you.

You weren’t okay, and you wouldn’t be for a while, but that was okay. For the hyena had her koala and her clown, and that was the way it was always meant to be. The three of you were soulmates, for better or for worse, and through it all would you stand tall with each other, safe in the knowledge that you were enough just because you were you. You were safe, in this moment, safe and protected and loved. You were always, always enough, for the simple fact that you were you. And you, dearest Lilith, are beautiful inside and out in every single way.

#heath ledger #heath ledger imagine #ledger!joker #ledger!joker imagine #patrick verona #patrick verona imagine #10 things i hate about you #10 things i hate about you imagine