#jack pompe

[aelyosos]

please look at these absolutely beautiful n gorgeous flowers @harcane sent me !!! 🥺💛 i’m so in awe and can’t stop staring ! the photos jst don’t do em enuff justice 💐

jack, thank you SO much again, they’re so wonderful & i’m so v lucky to b ur friend !!!! 🫂

#sam.img #mutuals tag #thank u for making me smile soooo big 🥺✨ #i love them they’re simply incredible ! the colors !!!! #and ofc the sunflowers 😳💛 #and roses !!! #n i think some of the purple r daisy pomps ?? #@jack; 🪴 #friends tag #keepsake tag

[hardlyinteresting]

To have and to hold

Thoughts about Hotch getting remarried.

It makes him nervous the first time he thinks about proposing. Of course, it's the natural progression of the stable relationship he's been cultivating with you, but the prospect terrifies him. He gets past it though, and reminds himself to live in the current moment and trust his loved ones. 

I think he still has his old wedding band and honestly, probably Haley's tucked away in a keepsake box somewhere. I think it's been a very long time since he's thought about them. But they meant something once upon a time. At first his wedding band was something he was clinging on to, still somewhat in denial about the end of his marriage. When Haley died he kept her ring thinking Jack might want them someday. 

His first ring was yellow gold, I think if he got remarried he'd insist on having a white gold, platinum, or silver ring. He wants something different and he doesn't want to carry old memories and feelings into a new relationship dynamic. You deserve better. He deserves better.

Controversial, but I don't think Aaron would be a big glitzy, ring kind of guy. I think if he’s going to get married again it’s going to be about the relationship more than any external expectations. He’s beyond happy to be with you, but he doesn’t feel the need to prove anything to the world. If you want a massive ring it’s yours, but I think he’d pick something high quality and stunning regardless. I think there’s a possibility that he wouldn’t have a ring for you when he proposed. Like I can see him just blurting out the question one night.It's a special and shared moment even if it’s not premeditated. He’d be kicking himself internally for not doing something special for you, but you’re beside yourself happy anyway. You’d go to pick out a ring together. It's something you're going to wear forever and he wants you to be happy with it. He pays more than enough attention to what jewelry you normally wear, and what styles you gravitate towards, he could easily make an educated guess and pick out the perfect ring but again I think he'd like the idea of it being a shared moment. Once you have the ring he’d 10000% propose again “properly” this time before slipping the ring onto your finger. 

It terms of the wedding itself, I think he'd be happy having a wedding whatever size you pleased. He'd be equally as content going to the court house for a civil service as he would be having a large ceremony. For him it's about the union more than it is about the pomp of the occasion. I do think that if you had a larger ceremony you'd be legally married on paper the week before, simply because it makes the paperwork easier. 

He definitely asks Jack if he's comfortable with you guys getting married long before he proposes. Jack is his priority, and him being happy, comfortable, and excited by the idea of you guys getting married is the confirmation Aaron needs to know he's doing the right thing.

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff

[iravaid]

Replaying VtMB again for the zillionth time and I really can't help but gush about the opening cinematic and how Much there is in it. It does a lot to subtly establish the setting and dynamics going on in Kindred LA.

The meeting to announce the fledgling and the sire's fate takes place in a theatre, the orchestral pit a physical barrier between LaCroix and the rest of LA. He is giving a speech with all the pomp and show a Camarilla Prince is probably expected to, and barely anyone can give half a shit about what That pathetic man has to say. Just about every important Kindred you encounter throughout game is there, which I love. Velvet is blowing a kiss at Strauss; Isaac is boredly checking his watch; Therese is shifting uncomfortably in the front row; Jack is in the shadows glowering out at the stage; Damsel, Nines, and Skelter are grumbling amongst themselves; Gary and Ash can even be seen when everyone is leaving. Their disdain is palpable. He never earned their respect; he's never gotten his hands dirty, because there's always some desperate underling looking to pay off debts or claw their way up the tower and do the work for him. He's just another figurehead that they're waiting to finally get ashed either by his own people, or some lucky Sabbat bastard.

And it really sets the scene of a recently muscled in Camarilla pressing their weight down on an LA that just about survived the siege of the Kueii-jin. The third major conflict in the city in about 60 years (initial revoult, sabbat siege being the others)(Nines was there for all of those, something important to note imo). The Anarchs have thinned ranks, no Revolutionary Council, and a 'leader' who believes the Anarchs having a leader is completely antithetical to their cause and so refuses to use that title in any meaningful capacity; they were in no place to effectively fight back against the Camarilla swooping in to try and stamp out the Free State for good. And yet, when the sire is executed, the people look at Nines for what to do next, and he is spurred to speak out amidst a crowd of apathy.

Maybe some of this is coincidence. Maybe it's just recycling assets. I still like it, and think it holds weight in the story.

#big feelings about vtmb once again #vtmb #vampire the masquerade bloodlines #nines rodriguez #sebastian lacroix #vtmbposting

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 24

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Word Count: 4.4K

Masterlist

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Five Months Later

The air was cool and crisp, the sun shining down brightly as people moved in and out of the house, hauling boxes. The trees blazed a multitude of shades of orange, red, and yellow, crunching underfoot and rustling as they fell off the trees, floating to the ground like a colorful snowstorm with each gust of wind. It was that kind of fall day that you wished you could bottle so you could experience it again and again. 

The neighborhood was an autumn wonderland. The yards were lined with pumpkins, scarecrows, and skeletons. Jack o’ Lanterns grinned widely from porches. Everything was spooky and festive as if Halloween had taken over the entire world. The energy was full of mischief, children running and biking down the streets, their laughter and chatter filling the air, anticipating the holiday that was now only a couple weeks away. 

The season brought with it a feel of transition and change, a moment to step back and reflect on everything that had led to this moment. A sense of peace settled over you as you watched your friends: Eddie yelling at Steve for slinging his guitar over his shoulder, Dustin and Robin bickering about who had to carry the box of records, Nancy taking charge and directing everyone, Max snapping at Lucas for drinking the rest of her water. 

They were all here, this group of people that had somehow become family to you over the course of a few short months. Hopper had even pitched in, offering the use of his Chevy Blazer. Him and Joyce were currently somewhere inside the house. Uncle Wayne was just pulling in with the last load, Mike and El crammed into the front with him. Jonathan and Will walked over to meet them, all five of them grabbing boxes to carry inside. 

The idea to move in together had been fairly sudden. What had been even more sudden and shocking was that it had been Eddie’s idea. You couldn’t believe he was ready to take such a big step after only six months of dating. But it hadn’t taken much thought on your part. You smiled at the memory. 

The wedding was a grand affair, full of pomp and circumstance. Of course it was. Cam wouldn’t have allowed it to be anything less, never passing up an opportunity to show off for the masses. Eddie and you had sat toward the back of the church. You'd picked out a new dress for the occasion, teal with gold, brown, and red details, a plunging neckline and a high slit up the thigh. 

You weren't trying to get Cam back but that didn’t mean you couldn’t try to make him regret what he lost. Besides, the look on Eddie’s face when you'd opened the front door had been worth every single penny it had cost. His fingers kept grazing the ample amount of skin on your leg that the dress exposed, a promise of what was coming once the two of you got out of there. Every brush of his hand, his lips caressing over your jaw, dirty words detailing what he wanted to do to you whispered against your ear, sent shivers of desire straight down your spine.

The doors opened, Cassie appearing in mountains of tulle, looking stunning. Not that it was a surprise. Your friend might be a snake but she was a beautiful one. Cam smiled at the sight of her but then the smile faltered, his eyes widening, when he noticed you sitting there. Eddie gave him a little wave and a wink, wiggling his fingers and winding his arm around you, pulling you in close to his side. 

You sat through the service, Eddie whispering in your ear the entire time, making you giggle. He asked you which bridesmaid Cam would have in his bed before the honeymoon was over. He whispered how Cam looked like he needed to take a giant shit as he was struggling through his vows, his eyes darting over to the two of you laughing. When Cassie began rocking back and forth on her heels nervously, he quoted Spaceballs.

“Going right past the altar, heading down the ramp, and out the door. Run Cassie. Run before it’s too late.”

You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh that was threatening to burst from you. But Eddie was accomplishing exactly what his goal had been. He was keeping you from sinking into your feelings, keeping you from bursting into tears or raging in anger, sitting and watching the two people who betrayed you promising to love each other forever.

The happy couple hurried down the aisle, avoiding eye contact with you like you were the sun that would burn them to ash where they stood. You told him you could skip the reception as you walked out to his van. The two of you had done what you'd set out to do. They’d both seen you and knew they couldn’t chase you away, knew you'd moved on and found happiness. They had not broken you. 

“Are you kidding? Pass up free booze, a party, and the chance to make them even more uncomfortable? No fucking way, princess.” He grinned, hand wrapping around your hip, pulling you into him. “Besides, you look way too damn hot in that dress not to show you off.” 

The reception was even more opulence, a banquet befitting royalty. The cake was a goddamn work of art, multiple tiers with buttercream roses. It was all grandness and luxury. Cream tablecloths, white roses, twinkle lights draped from the ceiling, a fairytale come to life. It made your own wedding pale in comparison. You hadn’t had near the money that Cam had now and he was spending every damn cent of it to be certain everyone there knew how far he’d come. 

Eddie’s hand stayed on the small of your back, letting you know he had you as you made your way through the hall. Your former mother-in-law stopped in her tracks, her face a mask of stunned mortification when she almost ran into you, heading up to check that everything was okay, of course. The woman was a micromanager and she would not allow anything to ruin her golden boy’s day. 

You had always hated that about her. She always had an opinion about everything from the colors you picked for your walls to the way you had gotten your hair cut. Cam would call his mommy to whine every single time you were upset with him and here Cheryl would come, armed and ready to battle for her son, reminding you how good you had it. That you were lucky Cam had chosen you because you both knew he could have done far better, how you were riding his coattails, and if you didn’t want to lose the comfortable life you'd grown accustomed to then you better forgive him. How many times had you done just that? Ignoring all the red flags until they were so glaring you couldn’t anymore.

“I…well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I would think not Cheryl but I was invited so I felt it would be rude not to at least make an appearance. You know, wish the happy couple the best on their special day.”

“Oh, how very…kind of you,” she ground out through gritted teeth. “Honestly, it took a lot of courage to show your face here. I would have thought you’d be too embarrassed to be seen after everything that happened.”

“Wait. By everything that happened you mean your son banging her friend behind her back? Not sure why she should be embarrassed that your kid couldn’t keep it in his pants and realize what a good thing he had when he had it.” Eddie stepped around you with a grin. “Eddie, by the way.” His arm wound around your waist, pulling you into his side. “I’m the guy who’s pretty damn thankful he didn’t because I know what a good thing I’ve got.”

“How…” Her eyes tracked him from his head to his toe, no doubt thinking he was far beneath her son with his long hair and tattoos. “Lovely for you both. If you’ll excuse me, I have far more important things to attend to.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from making sure the second wedding goes smoothly. Might want to cut back on the third one, though. With your son’s track record, this kind of party could get very costly for you.”

Cheryl’s nostrils flared, her face as red as a tomato. You could see she wanted to spit something vile at Eddie but her concern over how others perceived her won out. She could never let anyone think she was anything less than the perfect hostess. With a snort, she stomped off, her heels clacking loudly through the hall.

“Jesus Christ,” you laughed, burying your face against the sleeve of his jacket. “You definitely made her shit list.”

Eddie’s lips came together, an annoyed puff of air blowing out, “Well, she can get in line. It’s not the first nor the last list my name is on. It pisses me off that she acted like you should be embarrassed about a damn thing when her son is the one who should be hiding under a rock after the shitty stuff he did. That woman can kiss my ass.”

“Hey?”

A rippled of anger traced its way along your spine at the sound of that voice. How could she have the audacity to even speak to you after everything she’d done? You had been counting on the fact that the two of them would avoid you like the plague once they saw you at the wedding. You'd never expected either of them to actually approach you.

“Cassie,” you stated, the word harsh, two syllables that scratched your throat like knives coming up, as you turned to look at your former friend.

The beautiful bride smiled, uncertain and nervous, “We didn’t really think you’d come. I mean, we sent the invite hoping…but we didn’t think you’d be ready to forgive and move on. But we’re both so glad you’re here, that you’ve realized that we never meant to hurt you.”

“Realized? Forgive?” you seethed. “I’ve realized nothing. I don’t forgive a goddamn thing. You two willingly hurt me. The two people who were supposed to love me, to be the ones I could count on. You hurt me and you did it purposefully and don’t feed me any bullshit about having no control over your feelings. You knew exactly what you were doing and what it would do to me. You just didn’t care. You’re both selfish and pitiful excuses for human beings. And you know what? I’m glad you have each other because you deserve each other.”

“Please. I don’t want to lose you…”

“You already have. You lost me the minute you decided to jump in bed with my husband. You’re both nothing to me now. Enjoy your miserable existence and when Cam inevitably decides to cheat on you, don’t come crying to me. I’ve moved on. I’ve found people who actually care, who actually have my back, and who actually love me.” You smiled up at Eddie. “Enjoy my leftovers, Cassie. I’ve moved on to a gourmet meal.”

Taking Eddie’s hand, you pulled him behind you. He grinned, sticking his tongue out at Cassie as he followed behind you. Cam glanced over at you both and you gave him the middle finger. 

“Son of a bitch!” Eddie whooped. “You were brutal.” His hands gripped the sides of your waist, pressing you against the cool brick of the building. “That was so fucking hot.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Hell yeah.” His nose traced over your face as his hand glided up your leg, taking full advantage of the massive slit in the side to slip around and grip your ass. A whimper escaped your lips as the evidence of his arousal pressed against you. “Fuck, sweetheart, this dress has been killing me all damn night. I don’t know if I can make it all the way home.”

“Your van has plenty of room,” you whispered. 

“Son of a bitch. That’s why I love you. So resourceful,” he groaned, grabbing onto your hand, dragging you across the parking lot, your steps hurrying to keep up with him. 

Eddie threw open the back doors of the van and you crawled inside, him right behind you. The doors slammed loudly and then you were flat on your back, Eddie’s lips devouring yours, tongue not even waiting for invitation before it was exploring your throat. 

Your hands grabbed at the front of his pants, quickly undoing his belt, unbuttoning, sliding his zipper down. You pushed his dress pants and his boxers down over his hips. Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his cock, firm as you moved it steadily along his length. 

Eddie groaned, his forehead pressing against yours, “Jesus H. Christ, baby. You’ve got me so fucking wound up. I can’t wait. I need that pretty little pussy.”

His hands skimmed up your thighs, pushing the dress up to your waist, his lips moving along your neck, his hard length pressing against you. You wound your legs around his hips, needing that beautiful cock so badly right now. Eddie’s hand grabbed your wrists, holding them together above your head as his other hand guided himself to your entrance. He pressed into you slowly, his eyes focused on yours the entire time. 

“Oh shit…” you gasped as he buried himself to the hilt within you, pausing and relishing the feel of your bodies coming together in sweet perfection. “Eddie…” 

“I know. Jesus, you feel so fucking good, princess,” he groaned as he began to move his hips, his cock stretching you completely. 

Your hands came up to rest on his back, your fingers digging into the skin along his shoulder blades. He was moving agonizingly slow, drawing out the experience. It felt incredible but you were aching for him to move faster, harder, to completely take you, own you, make you his. 

“Eddie, please,” you pleaded, rocking your hips in an effort to show him what you needed. 

“Words, sweetheart,” he urged, that little smirk playing at his lips, causing that dimple you wanted to dive into to appear on his cheek once again. 

“Eddie, faster…harder…please…fuck me,” you managed. 

“Your wish is my command, baby,” growled Eddie as he thrust into you with force. The van began to rock and you cried out in relief. “Tell me, baby. How does it feel?”

“It’s fucking amazing,” you panted, your nails raking along the skin of his back, causing him to hiss. 

Eddie gripped your calf, lifting your leg up by your ear and you gasped in pleasure as this new angle created brand new sensations, pleasure rocketing straight through your core. His other hand released your wrists, gripping the headrest of the driver’s seat as he drove into you again and again, your bodies colliding over and over in a frenzied blur of want and lust. 

“Shit, princess, I’m close,” he rumbled. “Come for me, baby. Touch yourself. Need you to come.”

You obeyed, your hand snaking between your bodies, your finger finding your clit and working over it. It didn’t take much. Eddie had you so wound up, your body was just aching to let go. Your entire body tensed, back arching, as your orgasm rolled through you. 

“That’s a good girl. My good girl,” praised Eddie, thrusting once, twice, and then his body stilled, pressing into you, his grip on your leg tightening and you felt as his release filled you, a strangled roar rising from within his chest. 

His body shuddered over you and his head dipped down, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. He collapsed down next to you with a grunt, his arm resting over his head, releasing a long, slow breath of satisfaction.

“Fuck. That was…fuck…” he muttered softly.

You blew out a long breath, “Yeah…”

“We should move in together.”

“What?”

You rolled onto your side, looking at him, wondering if you'd heard what you thought you'd just heard. He rolled to face you, a soft smile on his lips, his fingers trailing up and down your arm. 

“We should move in together. Is that crazy? I mean, I know we’ve only been dating for four months but I know you’re what I want. And we’re thirty. We’re not young, dumb kids. Well, not young anyway.” His body shook gently with laughter. “I love you. You love me. We spend almost every night together anyway. So, why not?”

Were you really hearing this? Was Eddie, the guy who’d kept you at arm’s length, the guy who’d tried to run from you twice, was asking you to move in with him? The guy who was locked up tighter than Fort Knox? The guy who used the mask of being a jerk to hide in plain sight? You couldn’t believe it. You'd thought it would be at least two years before this topic was brought up, if at all. 

“You don’t want to?” he asked, head tilting forward to catch your eyes, those brown orbs absolutely melting you. “That’s okay. It’s probably crazy anyway, right? I mean, what was I thinking? You just got out of this ridiculously long relationship and you’re finally living on your own. You probably don’t want me moving in, invading your space, making messes and being loud and annoying…”

“Eddie,” you said, cutting him off. You pushed yourself up, moving to straddle his stomach. Your hands cupped his face, smiling down at him. “I would love nothing more than for you to invade my space. Hell, invade my entire life.”

“Yeah?” he asked, teeth flashing as he grinned. 

“Yes, but are you sure you want to move into my place? You’re good with leaving your house?”

Eddie shrugged, fingers dancing up and down your thighs, “It’s just a house. I don’t care. I know your house means something to you. And now, we can fix it up together. Make it ours. I mean, if you’re cool with that.”

“Of course. If you’re living there, it’s your house too. I just…I’m surprised you’re ready for that.”

“What is there to be ready for? Sleeping next to you every night? Waking up next to you every morning? Coming home to you after work? Baby, I’ve been ready for that. We’ve been sharing our space but Prom Queen, I want to share our lives. I’ve never…I mean, you know, I’ve never had anyone that I was willing to share everything with. But you, I want to. I want to tell you everything. I want everything that’s mine to be yours because I’m yours, sweetheart.”

Tears stung your eyes as you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m yours Eddie, completely and forever.”

You inhaled slowly, taking a deep breath of the crisp, fall air, a smile curving your mouth at the memory. That moment you had felt a happiness you'd never known and today, watching as your friends…no, your family, because that’s what this group had become, helped Eddie move in, you were feeling it again. 

“What are you all smiley about?” teased Nancy, bumping her hip into yours. 

“She’s feeling all grossly giddy because she’s in love and her boyfriend’s moving in,” Robin teased, leaning her head on top of your shoulder. 

Steve snorted, “These two have been inducing nausea for the past four months. I’m happy for you both but you could tone it down just a bit for those of us who are hopelessly single.”

“Speak for yourself, loser,” Robin huffed. “I happen to have a date tomorrow night.”

You spun so fast, you almost sent you and Robin tumbling to the ground, “Seriously? Oh my god. Tell me everything!”

Your friend beamed, pink highlighting her cheeks, “Her name is Claire and she brings her Corgi in to get groomed once a month. She’s so damn pretty. Long black hair and these eyes that look like the ocean at night. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out for months. At first, you know, I wasn’t sure if she was interested in people like me.”

“You mean girls?” laughed Nancy. 

“Yeah. Look, it’s not as easy for me as it is for you,” Robin stated. “You approach the wrong girl and she could get very pissy very fast. But then she was talking about her ex last month and she said that she didn’t like dogs. So, I had my answer. I knew I had to ask her. It was like fate had just dropped her down in front of me or something, you know? So, I finally did and she said yes! We’re going to dinner and then to a haunted house tomorrow.”

“Oh my god. Tell me you’re not going to…” you began.

“The one Eddie works at? Obviously. How many haunted houses do you think Hawkins has?” Robin snorted, blue eyes rolling skyward. 

Eddie was a scare actor every Saturday night while the local haunted house was open. He’d convinced you to come check it out last week and may have convinced you to do other things behind the scenes. He was rocking a Ghostface mask and as much as you thought it would be weird, it had been oddly hot. 

“Robin, when he finds out you’re bringing your date there…”

“Who’s bringing a date where?” asked Eddie as he strolled up with Dustin, beads of sweat sparkling on their foreheads. Poor Dustin’s curls were smushed underneath his cap. 

“Robin has a date and she’s bringing her to the haunted house tomorrow,” Steve answered. “Make sure you give them the special treatment.”

“Sorry, Harrington. I’m a taken man,” Eddie replied, snaking his arm around your waist. “And I already gave my girl the special treatment last week.”

“What do you…oh my God!” Dustin yelled. “You did it in the haunted house?”

Eddie shrugged, “I mean, it was fun.”

“What if someone saw you?” asked Nancy.

“That just makes it more exciting, dollface,” he grinned, tongue slipping between his teeth. 

“Okay…gross,” gagged Steve. “Not the special treatment I was talking about. I meant to scare the living shit out of them.”

“Oh, well, now that I can do.”

Robin shoved him in the stomach, “Don’t you dare. I swear, Munson, if you ruin this for me after I’ve been waiting six months just to ask her to go out with me, I will kill you.”

“Calm down, Buckley,” he groaned, rubbing his stomach with a wince. “I’m not gonna mess up your romantic little evening. Besides, isn’t that why you go to a haunted house? To have the shit scared out of you?”

“It’s a first date. I would rather shit not come into play at all.”

“That’s fair,” Dustin nodded. “One time I was having some serious gastrointestinal issues and Suzie…”

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! No thank you!” Steve protested, waving his hands in front of him. 

The sound of two short honks had all of you turning to see a small blue Nissan pulling up in front of the house. The driver’s door opened and Millie stepped out, waving to you all in greeting before opening the back, retrieving a box wrapped in white paper with a gold ribbon.

“Millie!” you exclaimed, walking over to the woman who had quickly become one of your favorite humans on the planet. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you told me this was moving day, right?” she asked. “I brought you all a housewarming gift.”

You chuckled, “But I already lived here.”

“Yes, but you didn’t live here with someone you loved. Now you do. That’s something to celebrate.”

Eddie approached, taking the package out of Millie’s hands and you went in for a hug. You inhaled the scent of her, cinnamon and vanilla, just like the coffee shop. 

“Millie, you didn’t have to do this,” Eddie told her as he leaned in for a one armed hug. 

“Of course I didn’t have to but I wanted to. It’s just a little something to mark the occasion. Now go on. Open it.”

Eddie handed the gift to you and you carefully untied the ribbon, handing it to him. You opened the box, pulling out a round white wooden sign. Black letters spelled out the words, ‘Home is not where you’re from, it’s where you belong.’ You blinked against the tears formed in your eyes, so touched by this thoughtful gift from this lady who had been so kind to you since day one. 

“Millie, thank you. I love this.”

The older lady placed a comforting hand on your arm, “I know you came here because you were running from something but maybe there was a reason.”

Your eyes immediately met Eddie’s, the two of you sharing a smile, “I know there was.”

“There sure was. This is your home now, honey. You belong in Hawkins with all of us.”

Eddie stepped into you, pulling you into his side, his lips pressing against the top of your head, “She really does.”

You looked around at all your friends who were now sitting all over the porch and the stairs, taking a well deserved break. You looked up at Eddie, that face you wanted to see every single day for the rest of your life. This was your life. Maybe it wasn’t the way you'd pictured it. Maybe some of the chapters had gotten rough and bumpy. Maybe there were moments when you wished you could hit the rewind button and change things. 

But now, you just wanted to hit pause, to live in this moment, with these people, forever. You'd not just found a home but friends and family. You'd found your person. You were actually grateful to Cam and Cassie because if they hadn’t have done what they did, you would never have found Eddie and you knew, with every fiber of your being, that he was the missing piece you'd always been looking for. 

“You ready for this?” you asked, tilting your face up to look at him. 

“Baby, I was born ready,” he grinned, his lips finding yours.

And we have arrived at the end of Sam and Eddie's story. Thank you so much to all who had read, commented, and supported this little story of mine. Every single one of you is a bright life in my life even if I don't know you personally. Your comments and reblogs always make me smile. I will be taking a bit of a break before starting another long Eddie fic. February is going to be busy for me and I will be going on vacation for a week with my family. But no worries. I already have some ideas brewing. The Eddie hyperfixation is still strong. I will keep updating the Steve one as I finish chapters for those who are reading that one as well. So much love and hugs to all of you!

Taglist

@tlclick73@bebe07011@eddiesguitarskills@witchwolflea@nailbatanddungeon@emilyslutface@fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes@corrodedcoffincumslut@mmunson86@josephquinnsfreckles@katethetank @cannibalsforbreakfast @cheesewritings @bellalillyrose @seatbacksandtraytables

#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie munson smut #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson lives #max mayfield #hawkins #ongoing #fluff #angst #smut and fluff #fluff and angst #enemies to friends to lovers #post divorce #falling in love #second chances #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #jonathan byers

[precious-little-scoundrel]

What is Elvis like as a father in law? I pretty much see him treating Donna and any of the other women who join the family similar to how he talked to fans at times. Everyone is darlin ', sweetheart, honey hahaha. Wanting to take everyone under his wing and spoil em. Especially Donna because she basically saves two of his kids.

This man -you’ve nailed it.

He loves people. We’ve established this. He adores his kids. Now, people who love his kids? Oh that’s just a beautiful upper tier of love from him. He loves them, he squirrels them away in rooms just one on one to grill them about their interest in a off-putting but lovingly intense way. He inducts them into the family with all the pomp and circumstance of a born performer while also taking care to give them private and subtle assurances of his welcome.

Of course there was Ella‘s fella Johnny, and the time Elvis put his dumb blonde head through the penthouse drywall. But that was no aspersion against Johnny’s good character, his valiant service to the nation as a soldier in ‘Nam or any real man-to-man dislike. It was entirely to do with a red blooded man marrying his 18-year-old baby. Elvis had sworn as a young father he’d kill anyone who came for Ella: Johnny can be glad he only has a permanent goose-egg back there from the incident. A few months of good intentions and proof that Ella is happy with her choice and all can be forgiven. Besides, Elaine seems charmed by Johnny and Elvis hates being anything but on the same page as Tink. 

Now Jack’s lady, she is a whole Lotta woman, so much Woman that some idiots might call her masculine, but that’s just her broad shoulders and brusque attitude leading you astray. Live and let live, Elvis believes, and he can sympathize with Jack. He knows a thing or two about the positive affects of your lady not letting you get away with shit. Or conversely only allowing you to in her company or under her supervision. It only takes Elvis a few months to get a read on Vic and stop trying to spoil her with jewels or perfume, instead he buys her cigars in the vain hope that she’ll stop swiping his. 

And then of course there is Danny and his precious Bee, raised most of her summers at Graceland and practically a Presley child until Shiloh had to play matchmaker and Danny had to make it weird and marry her. Oh well, at least they’re compatible and Elvis already approves.

And there’s Rosalee and her Sam Harrison, who Elvis likes well enough as he’s the son of an army buddy, even if the fool boy married someone else in the interim

and Daisy’s bloke ain’t half bad for being British, being known as Rosalee‘s kind professor, he’s got brownie points in the Presley family before Daisy attached herself to him, he’s a calming influence on that wild child and the rest of them, someone for Elvis to smoke with and talk about spiritual things.

And then there’s Donna. Now, Elvis does not have favorites, alright? He really doesn’t, Donna’s not his favorite. Don Don can’t be, as she is not a favorite, she is a fairy, a precious angel sent from above to patch up his babies and bring joy to their household. Whenever sweet Don Don is not being clutched by Jesse or gossiping with Jack or posing for Marie, her tiny self is tucked under Elvis’ armpit while he shows her his latest hyper fixation. She’s written many a caption for a polaroid after he complained of his bad handwriting and morosely wished upon a star within her earshot for some young helper to come along and aid him. Donna didn’t expect Elvis Presley to be so endearingly human -but he is, and it almost makes her forgive that horrid nickname.

…and then take into account the grand-babies that come from these…

#sarge asks #sarge: 2nd gen #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine

[racefortheironthrone]

Of all Shakespeare plays, which would you say is most Team Smallfolk?

For all that I love the Bard of Avon, he's rather anti-populist in a lot of his plays. Think about the rather negative depiction of the Roman "mob" and the populari in Julius Caesar or Coriolanus, or the similarly negative depiction of Jack Cade in Henry VI, Part 2.

I would argue that Shakespeare's most pro-smallfolk play just happens to be my favorite of his plays (surprise, surprise): King Lear.

"O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man’s life is cheap as beast’s..." "Thou wert better in a grave than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies.—Is man no more than this? Consider him well.—Thou ow’st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha, here’s three on ’s are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come, unbutton here..." "Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your looped and windowed raggedness defend you From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp. Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou may’st shake the superflux to them And show the heavens more just."

I think that's as radical a political statement about poverty and the failures of government to protect the neediest in society as one could get away with in early Stuart theatre.

#shakespeare #team smallfolk

[wizardfvcker]

my son, Hard Brittle,

KEITH: Alright, so we’ve got... just me... I’ve got--okay, I’ve got one. [Clears throat]

(As A.P. Garriot) Hello, young man!

ART: Oh, you’re lying, this one’s not true.

[Laughing]

JANINE: You just have to answer his riddles three, it’ll be fine.

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): [Neighing????] The name is A.P. Garriot, and I know a thing or two about your watch truck.

ART (As Pomp Circumstance): Oh yeah?

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): The discount, three cents?

ART (As Pomp Circumstance): Three cents off.

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): Fortuitous that I should have wandered into the bad pier by mistake.

[Laughing]

JANINE: Woah!

ART (As Pomp Circumstance): Hey now.

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): Sorry. [Austin and Jack laugh] There’s two trucks, they’ve been being stolen from, because they’re not very good. And so they’re sending decoy trucks now, especially for more expensive things. Watches are expensive things, so there should be two trucks, a decoy truck and a true truck. [ART hmms] Double the trucks.

ART (As Pomp Circumstance): So this is a brand new technology, trucks, but they’re sending two.

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): Well what’s worse, paying for two trucks or losing all your watches? I should know, or my name isn’t A.P. Garriot!

JANINE: Why do you sound so much like George Carlin on Shining Time Station to me right now?

AUSTIN: Oh, that’s not--I got ‘There Will Be Blood’ um, what’s his face--

JACK: It needs a bit more, a bit more variance--

ART: Yeah.

AUSTIN: Yeah, uhuh, you’re right.

JANINE: Yeah.

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot, but more exaggerated): [crosstalk] ?? his watch or both of the trucks?

JACK, also in an exaggerated voice: My son, H.W.--

AUSTIN, laughing: HW!

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): My trucks.

JACK: Your trucks!?

AUSTIN: Wait, are they your trucks? Is that why you know this?

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): I do a lot of shipping myself, you see. It’s a family business. My name is Alexander Pencils, and I ship pencils.

JACK: What?

AUSTIN: Wait, I thought your name was A.B. Garriot!

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): Alex--Alexander Pencils Garriot, you see.

AUSTIN, laughing: It’s one of those, it’s one of those Bs that you pronounce like a P.

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): A.P. Garriot, Alexander Pencils Garriot.

AUSTIN, crosstalk: Oh, P!

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): Yes!

AUSTIN: I see.

ART (As Pomp Circumstance): [crosstalk] Is that a nickname, or--

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): I ship pencils, I’m very familiar with these trucks and those other businessmen who ship them, like me. Like my son.

[Jack laughs]

JANINE: What’s your son’s name? HB?

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): Yes! I named him after the firmness of the pencils. Hard brittle... or... hard...

[Laughing]

ART (As Pomp Circumstance): So you--you’re a--you’re a shipping magnate, and you’re here giving me information for three cents off a funnel cake.

JACK, crosstalk: He did call it--he did call it the bad one.

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): You don’t get to where I have without--without saving a few pennies here and there. And like I said I wandered onto the bad pier by mistake, didn’t mean it.

JANINE: Thought I’d give away some valuable info, just to--[laughs]

JACK: To a competitor.

JANINE: Make the trip worthwhile, yeah.

KEITH (As A.P. Garriot): I can take your three cents here and turn it into three dollars tomorrow, and three hundred the week after!

#finally listened to this arc. had to clip this #friends at the table #fatt #f@tt #.txt #postin this for ollie i clipped it for myself #did the transcript myself if something is wrong lmk because i definitely guessed with some things there. i have bad ears #i meant to write tonight instead i spent so much time transcribing this. oh well #theres a bit there where i literally cant tell what keith is saying sorry king

[kafkaoftherubble]

I do not like Anton one bit

Honestly, the dude ain't high on my list too. Hearing chauvinistic/paternalistic pomp out of Huge Jacked Man (read: bræt) doesn't add points to his charisma stat. AT ALL.

I find it a little funny that we're now in an era where the Hayase rebirth is universally more well-received (Kahaku and Mizuha weren't universal back then) and well-loved than a dude who isn't a rebirth or a suspected rebirth of any prior character. It's also kinda funny because this ended up being a curveball, in-story indictment against a eugenicist's worldview: if people are really hard-coded by their genes, such that manipulation and concentration of good genes (i.e designer babies) will produce good, superior people...

Then why is Anton's perfectly designed ass stuck with this unlikeable, slappable personality, aye?

CHECKMATE, NOKKERS

In all seriousness though, I can't really bring myself to hate Anton. I just can't look past how much his environment made him who he was. The brain-rotting Kaibarapaganda; the devotion to a measurement of merits (Star System) in their meritocratic society; the culture and norms he was shaped by... There are just too many causes to his effects that just don't fall under his responsibility. The causal determinist in me simply cannot look past these to judge someone, and so I'm just annoyed by Anton at worst but kinda okay with seeing him. His side-plot with Tonari will be life-changing for him, I bet.

I'm trying to imagine a scenario where I'll definitely hate the shit out of Anton, but honestly, I think even if he wounds his brother, it won't necessarily make me detest him yet. Unless he, say, does something to Abel that I can reasonably separate from the larger environmental factors he's raised in?

If he looks down on his brother or even sees Abel as a mark of shame because the latter is Lacking (I don't know if Anton knew; I lean on the side of "he's likely ignorant"), I'll definitely hate his ass slightly more. But then it'd be only slightly, because even his prejudice toward Lackings (if Anton had any to begin with) was conditioned by his society and what he learned from the adults around him.

Damn. You just made me realize something, π! Anton is just too emblematic of a well-to-do kid living in Kaibara society for me to not assess his crap as the fault of the system instead of him. A lot of things about him are simply a microcosm of the larger society he lives in.

So yea. If I don't like Anton, it's because I really don't like whatever part of their society that made him like this.

#fumetsu no anata e #to your eternity #fnae manga #fnae manga spoilers #Anton Day #TASS RIGHT! π ISSA *YOU*! #I love giving nicknames of my own to people and so you're π! #not even original but π looks like a table which will remind me of that time you try to clear your table for your paper mache project #and I'm supposed to fly + hike all the way to Denmark to help but ended up becoming the name of your vacuum cleaner or something at best #mundane exchange I know but it's one of my earliest π lore so beat it

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Old Habits

Frank Adler x Reader

Epilogue

Masterlists Chapter 7 Summary: Three years after she left Frank and Mary behind, Y/n returns to Florida for the wedding of mutual friends, what ensues may prove that like old habits, some feelings just don’t die. Chapter Summary: One year after their reconciliation on the beach, Y/n and Frank finally get things right.

One year later The ceremony had been a simple one, with far less pomp than the one they’d been planning a few years ago. Frank hadn’t worn a full suit, but had gone with a pair of slacks, and a crisp white button up instead, while Y/n had settled on a simple, silk, white midi wrap dress, with chic cuffed sleeves and a slit starting at the top of her thigh-no veil- paired with nude flats. Held at a gazebo near the beach, decorated with baby pink chiffon curtains and deep red roses, they kept the ceremony short and small, with only a few close friends and family in attendance. Mary had been their only flower girl, while Amanda and Jack had been their maid of honor and best man respectively. 

The reception had been at a bar near the beach, maintaining the same casual atmosphere, and after their first dance as Mr. and Mrs. Adler, slow, romantic songs had been deserted for a stretch of lively, upbeat music. The laid back affair, Y/n thought, was significantly better than anything they might have planned four years ago, there was no fuss or frill and it was so authentically them, from the absence of expensive stuffy clothes to the rustic, relaxed vibe. 

“Mrs. Adler,” a familiar voice approached from behind, and Y/n heard the soft footfalls on the weather-beaten, wooden dock. They weren’t too far away from the thick of the reception; the music, though softer, could still be heard clearly, along with the chatter and loud laughter of their guests. Off in the distance, the retiring sun cast the warmest, burnt orange glow on the rippling water and from where she stood, Y/n could feel the gentle heat washing her face. As Frank fell into step next to her, he offered her a champagne flute, clinking his beer bottle to the top as she relieved him of the glass, “To us.”

Humming, Y/n stole a couple seconds to put the champagne to her lips, leaning her head against Frank’s side as he drew her in with an arm snaked around her back. “To us; even if it took us a while to get here, you’re worth the journey,” turning her head and tipping her chin, Y/n’s cheeks warmed. 

With a fond grin etched on his handsomely rugged features, Frank bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, the delicate flavor of the champagne mixing with the strong taste of his beer. “So are you,” he disclosed, pressing his forehead to hers, “Think they’ll notice if we leave right now? Roberta can take Mary home, it could just be you and me,” Frank teased, snaking his arm around her waist to tug her closer as he pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of her lips. 

“Its our wedding,” she giggled when his lips started traveling down her jaw, “Of course they’ll notice,” her free hand traveled to his hair, her fingers threading through soft, dirty blonde tufts. 

Frank groaned  while playfully nibbling on her neck, “You’re right,” he admitted, pressing a soft peck to the spot that he’d just bitten. “Come on, Mrs. Adler,” he pulled away, taking her hand to lead them back to the reception, “Let’s get back before they send out a search party,” Y/n laughed softly, resting her head on his bicep as they walked. “But Mary is still staying over at Roberta’s tonight.”

“She’s all packed for their sleepover,” Y/n promised. They’d planned on waiting for summer for their honeymoon, after deciding that they’d turn into a vacation, to celebrate as a family as opposed to a couple. Of course, Roberta had offered, several times, to let Mary stay with her if they wanted to have a more private trip, but traveling out of the country for a trip like that wouldn’t have felt right if she wasn’t there and both Y/n and Frank were actually excited to have Mary go with them. 

They returned to the party shortly after, only to find that Amanda had been looking for them so they could start doing toasts and then cut the cake. Things had gotten pretty busy after that, with everyone wanting to talk or take pictures, and the evening grew dimmer, Y/n found herself counting down the minutes where it would just be her and Frank again. 

2 Weeks later They’d headed to the beach a little earlier that Saturday, so they could plant an umbrella in the sand, spread a striped blanket on the ground and have a picnic. The buzz of the wedding was just starting to wane, though, Y/n and Frank were still caught up in the newlywed bliss- alongside continuing their regular, pre-wedding lives. It had actually felt nice to sink back into their routines and find that not much had changed; the wedding, to them, had always been just a formality and a way to celebrate their union with their friends.

Because they’d gone so early, the beach was still mostly barren, with only a few other people populating the shore and even less in the water. After they’d all had breakfast together, Frank had retired to his favorite, fold up beach chair, opting to watch from there as Mary and Y/n played in the water, sometimes tossing around a beach ball in between splashing each other.

Y/n had always been a natural with her; back when he’d been like a fish out of water while learning to change diapers and burp her after feedings, she’d taken on impromptu parenting with stride.  Everyone around them had attributed her ease with Mary to Y/n being a nurse, she’d been trained to take care of people, but Frank had always known better- she’d been good with Mary because of the love that existed between them. Back then, she had taken one look at a baby in need, a baby that was family even if she and Frank were newly engaged, and had decided to give her the best home she could. 

Frank had always known he was lucky, but that night, when Y/n had been ready to stick by him when he’d been thrust into parenthood, and she had become something of a mother herself, he knew that there wasn’t better for him out there. There wasn’t anyone in the world that would love him and Mary the way she did, and there were no two other people in the world that loved Y/n as much as he and his niece did. 

That morning, as he looked at them splashing around in the water, with a soft smile etched on his features, he was reaffirmed in that belief. Fate, in his opinion, had always been the stuff of fairytales, but he couldn’t have thought of another person in her place. 

“Are you just gonna sit there?” Shaking off his thoughts, Frank’s grin widened up realizing that Y/n and Mary were coming up the shore, both clad in their bathing suits. Mary was on Y/n’s back, legs hooked around his wife’s hips with her arms circled her neck. “Well?”

“I was coming….in a while,” Frank sat up a little, scrunching his nose as he pulled off his sunglasses. They sank to their picnic blanket, and as they did, Y/n reached for the sunscreen so she could start reapplying some on Mary. 

“Sure,” she teased, spraying some onto Mary’s shoulders before rubbing it in. 

“You should come with us Frank!” Mary exclaimed while Y/n rubbed some onto her legs. 

“I will,” he chuckled. 

Even after they were finished with the sunscreen, they didn’t return to the water right away, instead, Mary got a popsicle out of the cooler and was inclined to enjoy it on the blanket while using her free hand to play in the sand. Reaching down and tugging on her hand, Frank pulled Y/n up into his lap, not  minding in the slightest that her skin and hair was still wet. “This is nice,” Frank muttered, kissing her salty cheek, grin widening when she leaned her head against the top of his.

“It is,” she draped her arm across the back of his shoulders, “I like where we are right now,” she hummed. 

“Me too,” Frank agreed. He didn’t think he could ask for much more, of course, they  did have loose plans to expand their family, but neither he or Y/n had put a date on it and they were both perfectly contented to just enjoy that point in their lives; a happily, newly married couple raising a seven year old that they adored to pieces. “Feels like this is where we're supposed to be, you know?”

“I know,” Y/n agreed with a contented sigh, relaxing against his chest, only for Mary to pile onto them minutes later. “You’re all sticky, Wiggles,” she laughed loudly, encircling Mary in her arms while Frank slid one around Y/n’s back, resting his hand on her hip. 

“Then we need to back in the water,” Mary returned dramatically, before sliding off their little human pile up and reaching for Y/n’s hands, “Come on.”

Laughing wildly, Y/n pressed a kiss to the side of Frank’s lips, and he nuzzled her face teasingly, causing her laughter to grow a little louder, “Coming, coming,” her voice shook giddily as Y/n stumbled to a stand, being gently pulled by Mary who was ready to head back towards the water. “You’re gonna come in, right?” She asked hopefully, her wide grin so contagious that Frank felt his own cheeks split widely. 

“Yeah,” he licked his lips, watching in breathless awe as she and Mary staggered playfully down the slope, “Yeah, just give me a minute.” 

One more minute to bask in the quiet amazement that came with knowing that he had everything he needed, right there on that quiet little beach. 

*****

Tagging- @patzammit @dearmasaddict @flowerjewels @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @swthxrry @rosetintednorth @sn0wpiercer @elrw24

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #frank adler #frank adler x reader #chris evans fluff #frank adler fluff #fanfic

[proxylynn]

MY WISH WAS ALWAYS YOURS (part #1)

Summary: Nursery rhymes are rarely given a fair chance in a world of magic and fairy tales. Often mocked and considered jokes. Little do most know of the hardships they endure. What they have to do to overcome their namesake. Most embrace it. Others fade away into obscurity. But few are able to break this mold they were placed in. They become something more than what their rhyme would allow. Sometimes for the better yet often worse. Jack Horner was one such mold-breaker. Overpowering his nursery rhyme to become something so much larger than a simple pie boy. Now he runs not only a substantially profitable pie company but is also a feared crime lord and collector of all things magic. Not bad for a buttered baker's boy. Yet he's not alone. Under his employ is another nursery rhyme character. One that owes him her life. You won't find her name in any book, and she prefers it that way. None know where she comes from or why she is so close to someone such as Jack. He knows her past and that's enough. It is this reason that she serves him. And nothing can break the chains that bind her to him. This is the story of an unlikely and very unhealthy friendship. The tale of a greedy man and a woman that seeks his happiness.

Do you know the difference between a nursery rhyme and a fairy tale?

Nursery rhymes are different from fairy tales for several reasons.

Nursery rhymes are usually poems, while fairy tales are narratives.

Nursery rhymes are usually meant to be sung, while fairy tales are spoken.

Nursery rhymes are usually kept short with little context, while fairy tales are long and full of details.

Nursery rhymes usually have a musical component, while fairy tales are more visually stimulating.

But there's also one big key difference between the two...Nursery rhymes rarely end well.

------

Nestled in the heart of a Spanish industrial city, using its lake as a moat, and standing out as the tall centerpiece of it all is the Horner Pie Company. Currently, the Jack Horner Pie Co., ran by the man himself. This somewhat isolated enterprise where most employees even live on-site may smell sickly sweet from all the baked goods it produces, but don't let the alluring scent of pie deceive you. This compound is a base of operations for the owner's eccentric obsession with magic. He's hired various soldiers, assassins, and his own bakers to scout the lands to collect as many magical items as possible. Despite this, it is still a well-run business, even if conditions are a tad disheartening.

Imposing towering walls, giant dark wooden doors emblemed with golden J.H.s, barbed wire, red-tinted light fixtures, and rather warm stained glass windows are just some of the sights you can take in while entering its base. There's far more that awaits deep within the facility's main area and even the below. However, the seat of power is not all that distant from where the goods are made. It's easier to manage the bakers if one doesn't have to roam very far away from them. It is here that he sits at his large desk, "Big" Jack Horner, with quill in hand and going over numerous parchments that are slowly but surely making his right eye twitch with ever-building frustration. Something isn't adding up right.

"Big" Jack Horner is a very large sizable man, both height and girth, boarding on being eight feet tall. Rotund in both body and the cheeks of his face which are far bigger than the rest of the face. His short pink hair hasn't changed once from the childish bob cut of his youth and his piercing blue eyes have been known to cast the iciest of gazes. He wears a long ripe plum-colored overcoat over a mountain’s majesty colored dress vest detailed by little upturned pies, under that is a white buttoned dress shirt with a double triangular cut, pomp and power colored cravat ties around his neck, wine-colored textured leather pants, and black knee high buttoned leather boots with small heels complete his flawless attire that somehow resists all logic by not exploding from his bulk. His legs are much a contrast to the rest of him, being average-sized, if not smaller than the rest of his body. His right hand's thumb is stained a lovely shade of plum, an effect from all the pies he has and continues to stick it into.

While one would think based on his looks that he's a jolly giant, nothing would be further from the truth. This is a man you want to handle with care lest you live to regret it or live at all if you're lucky. A cruel, sadistic, irredeemable megalomaniac with a rather comical nihilistic narcissism to him. This is a man who would see a burning house then toss in fireworks and roast marshmallows on the smoldering remains. This isn't to say he lacks people skills, because he's actually a surprisingly patient individual. Calm and collected like a saint at times. Always trying to interact with those around him even if he's about to do something horrible. Like a true businessman, he's witty, charming, persuasive, and above all a master manipulator that loves toying with others for his enjoyment before ending them. It's such skills that have allowed him to rise to power and amass respect in those he deems worth his employ. These same employees stay out of loyalty and fear of him. No one crosses Jack Horner. No one.

*knock-knock*

The faint sound breaks his concentration but isn't loud enough to irritate him.

“Enter.”

The doors open with a small groan from the wood as a woman pushes in a tea cart before shutting the doors behind her.

“Forgive the intrusion, Master Jack. But it's tea time.”

This was Lynsie aka "Little Lynn", his personal assistant and bodyguard. The woman was small compared to him, by at least two feet, and a little on the thick side but it worked with her full figure. Her most striking features are her long tailbone-length brown hair and her deep chartreuse eyes that were highlighted by dark circles. She wears the standard musketeer guard uniform of a white buttoned undershirt, dark violet overshirt with matching trousers, a black vest with the crest of Jack Horner Pies emblazoned in fuchsia on the left breast held down by a dark gray belt, completed with black elbow length leather gloves and black knee high leather boots. Both of her ears are pierced twice with steel ball stud earrings. And around her neck, a silver choker band studded with a line of five amethysts.

Jack groans, running a hand through his hair as he leans back in his throne-like chair.

“Five already? Where did the time go?”

She tilts her head in puzzlement as she approaches his desk with the cart.

“You sound troubled. Is something amiss?”

“Bah. Damn quarterly reports. They're always a pain.”

“But...?”

She could tell there was something more to this than troublesome paperwork and her inflection was his invitation to elaborate further as she beings to fix up an assortment of goods from the cart. He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, knowing while she won't pester him about it now she'll do so later on.

“But...Some numbers from one of our distribution shops aren't adding up. Their sale totals aren't matching the given amount of product sold.”

“Oh dear. That's definitely not good...”

She places a plate of tapas on his desk and starts making his tea.

“You don't think they're foolish enough to steal from you, do you?”

He wastes no time in feasting on the meaty appetizers before him. It's at least something else to focus on other than damn work. That and in the fixation on his work he had missed lunch entirely.

“Normally I would suspect something like that. But this is from one of our lucrative shops. Business is great in that area so it's not like they need to. Not unless they want to lose out on their money maker.”

“What area is it? Mind if I take a look?”

She offers him a cup of warm plum tea and he takes it with a knowing look.

“Sure, fine, whatever. You're only going to do it anyway.”

He sips from his cup as she smirks.

“Well, you're no fun.”

She strolls around to be at his side and leans down to read.

“Work isn't supposed to be fun.”

“It is when with you, Master Jack.”

He merely rolls his eyes at her. Not many were comfortable enough to speak with him so casually. Or rather, he didn't allow many to be so casual. He didn't need employees to be familiar with him on a personal level. Fearful respect is better than loving admiration in his eyes. She was the only exception to this but for reasons he'd never admit to. Thankfully for him, she didn't push this rare privilege too far as he imagined someone else would.

“I think I know that area.”

His brow cocked at her.

“Oh?”

She double-checks just to be sure.

“Yeah. It's a small spot, but it's not far from a docking port. Sailors like to hit local places and splurge after being out at sea for ages. Very good coin to be made, that's for sure.”

She straightens up and puts her hands behind her back.

“If you want, I can check what the issue is personally. I'm sure I can find the cause of this discrepancy.”

Her soft, gentle voice dipped slightly into bitterness with that last word, making him smirk.

“Now, Lynsie, the last time I let you go off on your own it resulted in a less than discrete bloodbath.”

“To be fair, in my defense... They deserved it.”

To that Jack gave a much-needed laugh.

In stark contrast to her boss, Lynsie is someone most wouldn't think chose to be willingly around Jack. She exudes a calming and pleasant positive energy that can make a room full of roughhousing rouges disband with ease. Incredibly clever, civilized, and witty with a playful spunkiness. At heart, she's someone who'll bump into an inanimate object and then proceed to apologize to it because she didn't want to seem rude. Such a woman at first glance appears to be everything a man like Jack Horner isn't. Kind, sympathetic, and empathetic. But to be frank, she is only like that just to one person, Jack. Everyone else is merely tolerated for the sake of politeness. There is another side to her. A reason why Jack had made her his personal guard. A loyalty with no means of severing, unquestionable obedience, and a need to please that was scarred into her very core as a child. These are the traits that made a once gentle girl into a remorseless woman. Using her natural sweetness to persuade and disarm others into vulnerability before striking with deadly precision. If she targets you for any reason, it's too late to beg.

As Jack's mirth settles she leaves his side to return to the cart and tops off his tea.

“Ah...I needed that.”

“Always a pleasure to make you smile, Master Jack.”

And for her it honestly was. While it wasn't rare, Jack didn't smile often, and it filled her with pride whenever she was able to bring one to his face.

“Awe, well aren't you sweet. ...You're still not going.”

“Oh come on!”

Such a childish outburst is countered with a look of indifference and a rather hash flick to her forehead that makes her yelp.

“Do not raise your tone to me.”

His voice is stern with just a hint of warning. She rubs her sore brow and nods meekly.

“Yes, Master Jack. My apologies.”

He sits up straight and takes a slow sip of tea.

“As I was saying...You're not going. At least, not alone.”

She perks up at this as he continues.

“I do agree with what you said. This discrepancy needs to be handled with a personal touch. So take at least a few others with you and go.”

Her head tilts.

“Go? As in right this moment?”

His answer is just a look that speaks for him in a way that says “Did I stutter?”. She bows her head.

“Yes, of course. This will be taken care of post haste.”

She turns on her heel and starts to leave.

“And Lynsie...”

She pauses.

“See to it that this 'discrepancy' never happens again. Is that understood?”

A small smile comes to her.

“As you wish, Master Jack.”

She exits his office and he resumes taking in this moment of reprieve before getting back to work.

“*clears throat*”

She comes back in a minor sprint and grabs the cart.

“My bad!”

She shuffles out embarrassed which makes him chuckle. As he drinks his tea, he wonders if letting her out of his sight was a good move. Not that he had to worry about her fleeing or failing, no. If any of his subordinates can get a job done, it's her. The thing that concerned him was if she took things too far. Granted she only went ballistic one time, but still. The last thing he wants is more paperwork.

“Mr. Horner!”

A guardsman rushes into his office. Not a smart move. Jack doesn't like when people bust in like that.

“There better be a good reason you're barging in here.”

The look in his eyes is one of a snake ready to strike for this sudden intrusion. The guardsman gulps.

“Sir, yes sir. Lynn has been spotted in the stables and taking out one of the unicorns.”

Jack sighs deeply and palms his face, dragging it slowly down with a groan. Of course she took a unicorn. Those steeds are powerhouses. She going to ride into the night without sleeping. Typical.

“That woman, I swear...”

There's a small moment of silence. The guardsman is unsure what to do and Jack feels his eye twitch before his hand slaps down on his desk with a mighty intimidating 'THUMP'.

“Well? What are you waiting for?! Follow her!”

The guardsman stumbles a bit in fright from the shout but quickly turns tail and flees.

“Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots. Oh...And they left the door open too? That's just fantastic!”

[Time Skip]

It's been two days now. No word had reached "Big" Jack Horner. But was he worried? Not at all. There's never a need to get reports by message when he could watch the events unfold before him in real-time and all in the palms of his hands.

The Trophy Room is where Jack keeps his more prized mystical artifacts, enchanted objects, magical icons, bobbles, geegaws, and trinkets. It's also where he keeps his research on the fabled Wishing Star, but that's neither here nor there. Cinderella's Glass Slipper? He's got it. The Beast's Enchanted Flower? He's got that too. Snow White's poison apples? He has them by the bushel. The mythical Sword in the Stone, Excalibur? You best believe he has it. Yet none of that was what he was engrossed in. In his imposing seat, he holds the crystal ball of the Wicked Witch of the West, a massive orb to anyone else but to Jack, it was like holding a simple child's toy. This particular object granted him the ability to see that which he knew of and his desires. Granted, a useful tool, but it was specifically limited otherwise he wouldn't need to pay thieves to find items for him.

With a mere thought, the crystal ball heeds his whims, and the storm of magical energy inside swirls to open in the center, revealing Lynsie with the other guardsman as they approach a room somewhere.

…

She pulls a key out from her her glove and turns to her associate.

“Keep watch out front. I won't be long.”

The man looks at her funny.

“Are you sure you don't need...?”

She shoots him a look dead in his eyes as if to say “Leave. Now.”. He flinches and steps back slowly.

“I...I'm going to go keep watch out front.”

She watches him leave and gives pause before unlocking the door then entering the dark room. Inside, she relocks the door and lights a candle left in the seemingly empty room, highlighting a man bound to a chair with a sack over his head. He doesn't appear to be moving. She gives a huff through her nose before snapping her fingers. This gets the man's attention.

“H-Hello? Who's there?”

He's nervous, as he should be.

“If this is about my tab, I swear I'm good for it.”

“Is that so?”

Her voice confuses him.

“Y-You're not from the bar, are you?”

“Afraid not. A shame really.”

She approaches the man.

“Why's that?”

“Because whoever you owe coin to would've been far kinder than I.”

She grabs the sack and yanks it off the man's head.

“Hello there, Simple Simon.”

It's clear he doesn't know who she is, but the moment he sees the crest on her uniform his eyes widen.

“Oh...Oh no...”

She smirks.

“I see you understand the situation. Good. Saves me the trouble.”

He starts to sweat a bit.

“L-Look...I...I'm sure we can come to an understanding.”

She tosses the sack to the side.

“Simple Simon met a pieman, Going to the fair; Says Simple Simon to the pieman, Let me taste your ware...”

She begins to circle the man while reciting his nursery rhyme.

“Said the pieman unto Simon, Show me first your penny; Says Simple Simon to the pieman, Indeed I have not any...”

“You don't have to do this.”

Her response is to slap him hard across the back of the head.

“Simple Simon went a-fishing, For to catch a whale; All the water he had got, Was in his mother's pail...”

He grumbles and stares down at the floor.

“Simple Simon went to look; If plums grew on a thistle; He pricked his fingers very much, Which made poor Simon whistle...”

She stops in front of him.

“He went for water in a sieve. But soon it all fell through. And now poor Simple Simon; Bids you all adieu!”

His eyes are still downcast and she doesn't like it.

“I know you're simple, Simon. But to be this stupid? To be pilfering pies from "Big" Jack Horner? Don't you know? No one steals from "Big" Jack Horner.”

“Don't you talk down to me!”

He snaps, glaring up at her.

“You have no idea what it's like being me. Being a nursery rhyme known for being a moron. I was just a dumb kid! What kid isn't dumb?!”

He grinds his teeth.

“No one wants to hire a simpleton. I have to scrape by on pity scraps just to live. A rich scumbag like Jack Horner doesn-ack!!”

His words are caught in his throat...which is currently in her grip.

“You shall not speak ill of that man.”

Her voice is as cold as ice. This did little to sway Simon's ire, as he then spits in her face. He probably expected her to release him and he could try to mess with his binds while she'd distracted by being grossed out. But to his dismay, she doesn't move. In fact, her grip only tightens and her eyes intensify.

“Big mistake.”

He has only a moment to gulp in terror before she begins to pummel the ever-loving snot out of him. Gloved knuckles meet his face repeatedly. His pleas fall on deaf ears. It is clear she is not going to listen. She will stop only when satisfied with doling out this punishment to such a disrespectful soul. After a good couple of minutes, she relents, wiping the spit and blood from her face on her upper arm sleeves. His bound and busted body lies broken on the floor.

“You truly are simple. Do you think your nursery rhyme traps you? You couldn't be more wrong. Your nursery rhyme doesn't hold you back, Simon. You do. You chose to stay in its shadow. To let it control you. You are the reason for how your life is.”

She retrieves from her vest's inner pocket a small pouch.

“Nursery rhymes get dealt a bad hand compared to fairy tales. You admit to knowing this. So to knowingly steal from a fellow nursery rhyme, well...That's just asking for a bad ending.”

She kneels and grabs his face.

“You can insult him all you want, but you're just mad because he overcame his nursery rhyme. He made something more of himself. Something you'll never do.”

She forces his mouth open and crams the pouch in his gob, expelling the contents then making him swallow. He sputters and somewhat chokes as a strange powder fills his insides.

“*coughs* W-Wha...What was that? What did you give me?”

She merely lets go of him.

“Jack Horner is a man. A real man. But you? You are nothing.”

His body begins to tremble. He can feel things from within begin to change. She puts her hands behind her back and watches him as he panics.

“What's happening to me?! What did you do?!”

Her expression is as dead as a gravestone.

“You are nothing. Nothing but an insignificant bug.”

His body suddenly implodes, bursting into a puff of glittery dust. When the dust clears, where once there was Simple Simon now is only a small bug. Using the pouch, she scoops the bug up and seals it inside.

“I should kill you, Simon. Do you know what you've done with your stupidity? Not only have you stolen from my boss, making him very upset. Not only have you insulted the only friend I have, making me very upset. Not only do you bring shame to all of us nursery rhymes by being so damn pathetic. But, most personally annoying, you got me to leave his side!”

She snarls and her grip locks to prevent crushing the pouch.

“I have been gone for two days...NEARLY THREE! YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF ABSOLUTE SH-!”

*knock-knock-knock*

“WHAT?!”

She barks at the door.

“...Is everything okay?”

It dawns on her she's being rather loud and unbecoming. She shuts her eyes, takes a few breaths, then runs a hand through her hair to center herself.

“Forgive me. That was rude. I didn't mean to snap.”

“...So...Is all okay in there?”

“Yes...”

She looks at the pouch and leers at it.

“All is well.”

Getting the key, she unlocks the door and opens it to face the guardsman who can see the now empty room.

“We're done here.”

…

Jack can't help the grin that spread across his face. Now that was the kind of display that stirred something in him. Is it something good who could say? Maybe it was respect? Maybe it was admiration? Or more likely it was the enjoyment of seeing her beat the crap out of someone before dooming them. That's always something to take delight in.

“Good girl.”

The images inside the orb get lost in the magical storm as he gets up and returns the ball to its pedestal.

[Time Skip]

It would be a day and a half before there would be another knock on the door of Jack's office.

“Enter.”

He doesn't bother looking up from his book as the door opens and she steps inside.

“I've returned, Master Jack.”

“I can see that.”

He remarks without actually looking.

“You know the drill. Tell me everything.”

She nods and shuts the door, slowly strolling over to him.

“Upon arrival, we questioned the shop in case they knew anything. Turns out, in the dead of night someone was sneaking in and stealing product. We proceeded to wait for the culprit to make an attempt the following night. They never saw it coming.”

She pulls from her pocket a small jar containing the bug.

“Meet the culprit, Simple Simon. Now in a more condensed form.”

That got him to glance her way.

“You kept him alive?”

His tone was that of lack of interest with just a hint of surprise.

“Not going to lie, I've been tempted to just crush him or release him into a swamp full of hungry frogs. Damn fool pressed my buttons in all the ways to tick me off the longer he spoke. But...”

She puts the jar down on his desk.

“He's the one that wronged you. Stole from you. Insulted you. Thought so little of you...”

The way she said that word causes his grip on the book to tighten harshly. If there's any way to get under Jack Horner's skin more, it's remotely insinuating him as little. He spent years under the humiliation of being "Little" Jack Horner. It's why he worked so hard to get out of the shadow of his nursery rhyme. His face reddens a bit as his breathing is more labored and he glares daggers at the jar.

“I can do this for you if need be. Just say the word and this fool will be nothing but a memory. All you have to do is give me the order.”

His hardened stare goes to her and she backs up a bit. His attention falls on the bug in the jar, the tiny thing cowers in its glass prison knowing full well it can't do anything as this giant of a man is now the judge, jury, and executioner of its fate. In a swift motion, he grabs the jar, gets up from his chair, and storms out of his office with a haste that would trample any unfortunate enough to be in his path. She is quick to follow after him. His heels cast ominous speedy clops on the stonework floor as he reaches his destination...the bakery.

The bakers turn and look up from their work as he enters, looking like curious and worried prairie dogs. Jack scans the room, his eyes landing on an unoccupied oven and he makes a beeline for it. All just watch as the massive man goes to it and hurls the jar in with pure hate before sealing the doors shut.

The bakers find this confusing before sudden screaming is heard. It starts out rather small, even squeaky, as if from something tiny. But then it gets louder and deeper, till it is undoubtedly the recognizable voice of a man. It is an agonizing burning sound. And it's made all the more haunting by how long it lasts before smoldering silence takes hold.

“Let that be a lesson...”

The fury he once had seemed to have dwindled but was not quite gone yet.

“No one...And I mean, NO ONE, disrespects "BIG" Jack Horner!”

Without another word or even a look of confirmation, he huffs and fumes his way back toward his office. The bakers merely look at Lynsie who is smiling for reasons they probably don't want to know.

“Let it be...”

She mutters.

“Give it two hours to cremate the body. Then clean the remains out and wash it thoroughly. We can't have a single oven be compromised or out of operation for long.”

She turns on her heel and waves to them over her shoulder as she begins to go after Jack.

“You're all doing a great job. Keep up the good work everyone!”

The bakers are left in a state of unease. This was not something they were used to. Body disposal is normally a weekend thing and this is still early in the week. Whoever that guy was, he was unlucky.

Back in Jack's office he leans over his desk and settles down, his hands splayed over the fine wood. His chest slowly returning to a steady rhythm. It isn't often he lets his temper flare that much. But damn did it feel good. Nothing quite like getting rid of a pest that’s been bugging you.

“Are you alright?”

Her voice makes him flinch just ever so faintly and he rumbles low.

“Did you forget how to knock?”

She ignores this and shuts the door for privacy.

“That got a bit intense out there. Do you need to talk?”

Perhaps she is misreading the moment, but something felt off and her natural instinct was telling her to be supportive. Maybe he just needed to vent his frustrations.

“You know, I'm here for you if you need to let off some...”

“Lynsie...”

His tone is slightly off. Playful, sure. But off. See for him, now that he had calmed down and collected his thoughts, it occurred to him that something wasn't quite right. A question stews in his head that needs answering.

“That was quite the interesting means of dealing with Simon. Turning him into a bug and all. But I must say it begs to question, where did you get the transmogrification powder?”

His question stuns her and her silence has him turn to face her with a smirk.

“Granted, it made clean up a lot easier after you had beat his face in. A bug is lighter to carry than a full-grown man after all. But still...Magic of any kind has never been part of your arsenal. So where did you get it from?”

His sterner tone makes her demeanor shift. She'd never dare lie to this man. Even if it meant punishment.

“I...I made it. Using a recipe from one of your books.”

She scrunches timidly inward, her eyes looking away at the floor while holding her own hands as a means of keeping herself together. His amusement becomes conflicted yet he still finds a means of enjoyment in it.

“Perhaps I've been too lenient with you.”

She tentatively looks up as he beckons her with a few curls of his finger, which she does all be it with the slightest hint of hesitation. The moment she is within his range, he grabs her by the face and she freezes in place. Her eyes wide and blinking rapidly with uncertain nervousness as his huge hand smothers her, keeping her silent as well as still. She's far from the same woman he witnessed in the crystal ball. No longer confident or sure of herself. This shy and frightened woman is a side only he knows of. One that he met long ago.

“You know better than to touch my things without permission. Are any other little tricks up your sleeves? Better tell me now. I would hate to have a reason to be disappointed in you, Lynsie. And you don't want that. Do you?”

His voice is almost mocking her. But even in mockery his aura of strength is ever present and isn’t to be taken lightly. She shakes her head as best she can in his grasp and starts turning out all her pockets to show she has nothing. Accepting this, he shoves her back and she stumbles before falling onto her rear.

“You're going to be making it up to me.”

She nods weakly.

“Starting first thing tomorrow, you'll be given extra duties to perform around here. Is that understood?”

She nods again but this time he shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

“*tsk-tsk-tsk* What are you a dog? Speak! Use your words!”

His voice raises just above his normal volume and she freaks out in a rush to apologize.

“Yes, Master Jack! I understand, Master Jack! Forgive me, Master Jack! I'll do better, Master Jack, I promise!”

Oh, how watching her squirm and revert to a begging child tickles a twisted part of him. He loves it. He loves knowing her weakness. It's how he knows she'll always be under his big purple-stained thumb.

“Good girl.”

With those two words, he could see in her eyes just how fragile and easy to manipulate she was for him. He could visualize the chains of his control binding her further to his needs. But for her, hearing those words fills her with a comforting warmth. A feeling of recognition and worth from the one she respects above all else, including herself.

This was their dynamic.

Jack, the one in a position of power and dominance that overshadowed everything that he once was.

Lynsie, the subservient eager to please one that yearns for the approval that had always eluded her.

The conqueror and the follower.

It is perfect.

Perfectly toxic.

----------------

[I do plan to add more to this. I think you’d all find Jack and Lynn’s background together interesting. If this goes well I’ll begin on chapter two soon. I only made it seem like it ends here in case my brain decides to crap out on me. Best not cliff hang anyone, even myself. Thank you all and I hope this was a good read. Have a pleasant day/night. ^_^]

#jack horner #big jack horner #jack horner x oc #big jack horner fanfic #jack horner fanfic #puss in boots the last wish oc #Little Lynn #big jack horner x oc #MY WISH WAS ALWAYS YOURS

[fyeahfantasticfour]

Marvel Comics Super Special #1 (1977) - Biography of Doctor Doom

Transcripted under cut

A brief biography of DR. DOOM. Based upon "The Fantastic Origin of Dr. Doom" by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.

He is a master of robotics, of physics and chemistry, of aerodynamics and micro-miniature electronics. Yet he dwells within the ancient stone castle walls of a Central European castle. He is absolute monach of the tiny Balkan kingdom Latveria. Yet he shuns the self-indulgent pomp and pageanty of royalty, disdains the ritualised adoration of his subjects, preferring instead their unmitigated obedience, and an almost reclusive existence. He is a man of many passions--all concealed. He is one of the wealthiest men in the world, and yet he permits himself no luxary, no comfort, except his solitude. he is the living paradox named Victor Von Doom.

(break)

Sometime in the early 1920's, in the storybook kingdom of Latveria, a son was born to the Rromani family Von Doom. The father was a healder, a physician, inheritor of his own father's knowledge of herbs, barks, berries, roots, and the curative potions obtainable through their combination. The mother was notable primarily for the circumstances of her death; in a pit, with stones raining down on her head. Certain persons thought her to be a witch.

It was a difficult time to be a Rrom. Caught between two eras, they were hated and feared by the slowly fading adherents to the agrarian past, hated and scoffed at by the proponents of the industrial future, hated and persecuted--but respected--by the powers-that-were, that relucant regard for Rromani prowess in certain areas, among them medicine, was the elder Von Doom's undoing.

One day, when Victor was barely 10 summers old, his father was summoned to the royal palace and ordered to save the life of the ailing queen. "I shall try my utmost, of course, sire," protested Von Doom, "but I can offer no guarantee of success. Your own physicians have admitted their inability to effect a cure."

"Then let me inform you, Von Doom," replied the king, "that should you faill, I can offer no guarantee that you shall leave this palace with your head."

The queen died.

Von Doom fled for his life, eluding the royal guardsmen just long enough to make a quick stop at the Rromani encampment to pick up young Victor, reasoning soundly that the boy would surely be the king's target if Von Doom made good his escape alone.

For months, through the passing of fall and on into a bitter winter, Von Doom and son roamed the forests, always a step ahead of their persuers. The elements, however, proved impossible to avoid, and one day the Rromani wagons found VonDoom and his son huddled together in a blanket, covered with snow, at the side of a road. The father was moribund.

Within hours, despite the ministrations of the Rromani, Von Doom was dead. His last words, voiced to Boris, an old friend and member of the tribe. "My son... protect...!"

"No one need protect me, father!" Victor wailed. "I shall be strong! I shall make them pay for what they did to you and to mother!"

But Boris knew the real meaning of Von Doom's impassioned plea. Victor would need no protection, it was true. However, the world must somehow be safeguarded against the lifelong rage that would burn in the child's soul.

When Von doom had been buried, Boris presented young Victor with the few possessions his father had left behind. Among these was a curiously decorated trunk, marked with arcane astrological symbols, which Victor had never seen nefore. Inside it he found a strange collection of cards, charms, fetishes, talismans--all the implements of sorcery. And when he realised with grim satisfaction that the accusations made of his mother were joyfully, wondrously true. He was the son of a physician and a witch.

(break)

Victor Von Doom threw all his energies into the study of both his parents' crafts. By the end of his eighteenth summer, the boy had established a reputation as an inventor, a magician, a philosopher, and a rogue. For all his devices were created to victimise the wealthy and the powerful--like the salve that cured headaches, but induced baldness, like the "magic" violin which made any man a virtuoso until Victor, safely out of reach, fliced a switch and shut off it's power source.

Indeed, words of Victor's accomplishments spread so rapidly and so far that he was offered an opportunity to study at a major university in the United States. Anxious for the access this would provide to far more advanced laboratory fascilities, Victor accepted.

But tragedy lay at the end of the journey. During an unauthorised experiment on univeristy premises, Victor's elaborate device for communication with the spirit world exploded, permanently disfiguring his face. He was summarily expelled.

By this time, World War 2 had erupted in Europe, so rather than returning to his homeland, Victor set out for the Himalayas, determined to learn the mystical secrets of the Tibetan lamas. He did. Indeed, by the time he was ready to depart, his teachers were calling him "master."

It was in Tibet that Doom's strange costume was forged, the cold grey armour, the emotionless iron mask which would forever hide his ravaged countenance from view.

And it was there he swore a vow that one day, all the world would acknowledge him as it's sovereign. He has not abandoned that vow. Power remains his obsession to this day.

The world may not yet bow to his every command, but the very mention of his name sends shudders up the spines of men and of nations.

And hey--that's a start. End transcription.

#doctor doom #victor von doom #g slur #fantastic four #comics #mod: brieuc

[seafavoured]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍, but one to which he was unfortunately well accustomed. royal blood seemed a hard thing to shake, for instincts had them bending to rogers' will from the moment they'd arrived at his villa. one of them, anyway. the man was wealthy and well traveled, with a vast home in each nation. this particular abode was nestled in the heart of the earth kingdom, and was nearly as stunning as that of his northern water tribe dwelling.

it was a matter of bittersweet nostalgia, to be surrounded by all this pomp and ceremony. a feast and ball held in their own honour, as prince and avatar both, and proof of friendship. for rogers claimed no grudge upon eleanor, nor any remaining allegiance with edward's father. it seemed the man's concerns lay solely with their business ventures and the fortune which followed. clearly, if the evening was but a sample. a lavish ballroom of blue and silver tapestries, crystal chandeliers hung overhead, decorated with all manner of fineries, the centerpiece of which was a huge, marble fountain.

it was where ed sat now no, not ed, not really. the avatar, prince edward of the northern water tribe, was who sat perched at the fountain's edge beside woodes rogers. fingertips traced idle patterns just above the water's edge, and ripples rose to follow the almost-touch. the other man seemed to be mirroring the motion, and was angled in toward them, leaned close in talk.

they rose the very moment their eyes fell upon jack in the crowd, and rushed forward to meet him. dignitaries in his path parted way with ease and accompanying bows or respectful nods. ed himself was clad in fine silks and shimmering cashmeres laid out upon his bed that evening by rogers' servants. sent especially for them by the man himself, the staff had said. all hues of blue and silver, to match the tapestries of the room. fine jewelry adorned neck and wrists to match, hair freshly cleaned and braided.

❛ oh, fuck. thank tui and la you're here, i was bored out of my skull, ❜ hissed under their breath to jack the very moment they drew close enough. hands rose to catch the other's and a kiss pressed to his cheek. ❛ the good news is, he's on our side. ❜ a subtle jerk of his head back toward where rogers sat, observing them closely. ❛ he's not a bad man, just ... well, a businessman. he was my waterbending master back home, but there's no love lost between him and my father. all that he asks in return for his support is a favour, and a dance. ❜ they didn't mention with whom. maybe jack would assume eleanor, and let the matter drop.

@pyratezlife / ned.

#pyratezlife #i wanted the princely ed + fancy party thread and figured meeting rogers would be one place to have it #also figure his political and financial endeavours would make him take an interest in ed now that they've struck out on their own #based on the timeline i think the crew so far is ed jack jackie anne ned and eleanor? but feel free to say otherwise #thread. ed. #verse. benders.

[nonbinaryphantom]

im blaze i follow/reply from @frenchphobic im a se asian tme nb lesbian. be normal. dni if u are weird and shit and liking pomp pep or whatever and i love trans ppl and gay ppl here

i have an adults only dp server u have to dm for the link though (i prommie i dont bite)

also list of all the aus and basic explanation u can find more stuff under the specific tag for them except for a few <<< has something wrong with them

halfa reaper au: au where all halfas are reapers that guide souls to the afterlife and round up unruly ghosts. its sort of like magical girls specifically pmmm kind of vibe where theres some underlying dark secrets

roleswap: danny and vlad roleswap au. dannys an anti villain with issues who keeps burning his bridges and vlad is an emotional represser with complicated feelings towards maddie and jack. features a bit of electric core au with overdrive

morrigan au: TUE rewrite where dan is just some giant monster bc i like designing them. danny and future valerie r dual protagonists here

rival dani: dani becomes a reoccurring rival for danny bc cain instinct and the whole clone thing. semi rewrite of kindred spirits. danny is like sonic and dani’s like metal sonic/surge the tenrec that kind of dynamic

[harry-sussex]

Guys, I have the craziest news for you.

So I have been planning a trip to Italy for two weeks in the spring. For those of you who don’t know, I have two degrees in the History of Art specializing in Florence during the Italian Renaissance - same as Kate (by chance, I didn't get two degrees just because Kate had them lol). I’ve been studying Italian art for almost 10 years - it’s about time I make my first trip to Italy. 

I have an $800 flight credit from Delta Airlines due to a crazy flight delay from Ohio over the summer. The credit expires on 10/23, so I only have a few days left to book, but I couldn’t settle on dates, and I was starting to freak out a little bit because the deadline is so close. I knew I wanted mid/late April or early May, though, but I just couldn’t pick.

I work on an international team out of New York, so I have professional contacts all over the world. Someone I work with out of Europe suggested that I fly to London and work out of our London office for a week. I’ve been twice but never long enough to do it properly, touristy things and just exploring, and the time difference between NY working hours and London working hours works very well in my favor such that I could do my regular job from London, have plenty of time to explore, make a weekend pit stop in Paris, and then take the two weeks off for Italy. 

I got authorization to work out of London this week so that’s definitely ready to go. I just couldn’t settle on dates. Last weekend, I almost booked my flights for 4/9-4/29. Not for any reason, just because it seemed like it fit just fine in my range of options. 

I’m glad I didn’t, because this week, Buckingham Palace announced the date of the coronation… Saturday, May 6th, 2023. The first weekend in May. Right in the mix of dates during which I was thinking of traveling. I didn’t have a set date, so I was flexible on that 4/9-4/29 range.

Long story short, I’ve been planning to go to the coronation when the time came for almost 10 years. And, by pure coincidence… I’ll be in London. No separate trip required. I’ll be in London for the coronation. Can you believe it? I’m actually going to the coronation!

Booking flights this weekend. 4/29-5/20 in Europe. Through the morning of 5/7 in London. I’ll need recommendations of where to stay, what to do, how and where to explore during that first week before I GO TO KING CHARLES’ CORONATION. Can you believe it? Can you BELIEVE IT? By pure coincidence! I’ll be there! I’d always planned on being there, and now, I’m ACTUALLY going to be there, and I didn’t even have to plan a trip around it! It fell right into my lap! 

I’m so excited! So many people I’ve been dying to see in person! Charles, Camilla, William, Kate, George, Charlotte, Louis, Harry, Meghan, (Archie, if I'm lucky), Beatrice, Edoardo, Eugenie, Jack, Edward, Sophie, Louise, James, Anne, Tim, Peter, Savannah, Isla, Zara, Mike, Mia, Lena… 

And, of course, in that setting, at the coronation, the most regal of all events:

His Majesty King Charles III, Her Majesty Queen Camilla, His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales, Her Royal Highness The Princess of Wales, Their Royal Highnesses Prince George, Princess Charlotte, and Prince Louis of Wales, Their Royal Highnesses The Duke and Duchess of Sussex (His Royal Highness Prince Archie of Sussex)… Her Royal Highness Princess Beatrice and Mr. Eduardo Mapelli-Mozzi, Her Royal Highness Princess Eugenie and Mr, Jack Brooksbank, Their Royal Highnesses The Earl and Countess of Wessex, Lady Louise Mountbatten-Windsor and James, Viscount Severn, Her Royal Highness The Princess Royal and Vice Admiral Sir Timothy Laurence, Peter Phillips, Savannah and Isla Phillip, Zara and Mike Tindall, Mia and Lena Tindall… 

Coronets! Tiaras! Orders! Sashes! Pomp! Pageantry! Foreign Royals! The ENTIRE British Royal Family at one of their most important ceremonies that happen a handful of times in a lifetime, if you’re lucky! The Coronation of King Charles III!! By pure accident, and I’M GOING TO BE THERE!!! Like I always planned!! Can you guys BELIEVE IT?? 

#british royal family #king charles iii #coronation #royal family #my post #personal

[outstandingmenshair]

Jack Grealish with a nice boxy pomp. Safe. But one other thing, Jackers…step away from the tweezers. Those brows…skinny caterpillars in rigor mortis, not good Jack. Not good at all.

#Fantasy #Flattop #Blowout #Celebrity #Famous

[thetrickstersdaughter]

One of my previous posts reminded me that I never share my story of how I learned that I was a demigod daughter of Hermes.

Starting off, my mama knew very well who my father was, but couldn’t tell me for the same reason any mortal parent of a demigod child can’t: it would put me in more danger if I was aware. One of the only times I can vaguely remember Dad coming to visit me at my childhood home was when I was three or four. After that visit, I bugged Mama constantly with questions about where he had gone. She always had a pretty hilarious story as a response: he’s a mailman who got hopelessly lost on his route or he’s doing the Forrest Gump thing and running cross country. Maybe it’s not alright to lie to a child, but I’ll give her a pass in these situations since she always made me laugh.

More under the cut.

Fast forward a few years (6-7 years old), my mama was deployed with the Army to the Middle East. She was a pilot and I love bragging about how badass she is to everyone I know. I went to live with my mama’s parents, Pawpaw Jack (who has since passed away) and my Granny Della. Granny was a big into the Pentecostal denomination, and, without going into too much detail, I experienced some trauma which caused me to run away from home. Hermes kids do have a tendency to be a bit nomadic, after all. I made it to the Kentucky/Tennessee border before encountering my first monster, a drakaina. Having no weapons or other skills to defend myself, I did what I do best and ran. Even with my demigod endurance, it still probably wouldn’t have ended well had the Man with the Van (aka Dad) not yanked me into the back of his mail truck after putting George and Martha into laser mode and cremating the monster.

I personally couldn’t tell you why Hermes chose to intervene as it is hard for me to psychoanalyze my immortal father. Maybe he felt especially bad for me, with what I had been through, and everything that happened with Luke made him feel slightly guilty about how he treated his other kids? I know he’s always loved my mother in his own way, at least he told me they had a lot of fun and he looks back on their moments together fondly. At any rate, I know he took a huge risk personally intervening and taking me to Camp Half Blood himself. Our short time together on our little road trip was one happy memory I couldn’t help but think back to every time I felt I was angry enough to seek revenge.

Since Dad delivered me along with his packages to camp and introduced me as his kid, I didn’t really need to be claimed in the traditional way. There was still a bit of pomp and circumstance though (caduceus floating over my head,” all hail Rebekah Reilly, Daughter of Hermes, Harold of the Gods”, so on and so forth). All of my siblings just accepted me with open arms into our chaotic family and to this day my siblings are some of my best friends and biggest supporters.

#my story #daughter of hermes #hermes #hermes cabin #cabin 11 #percy jackson #camp half blood #pjo rp #riordanverse #text post