#new year return of the thirst traps

[kouros-herc]

104 likes

HercAtOlympus: Been doing lots of work in the pool this winter, but it’s great to be getting back in the gym!

#swynstagram #new year return of the thirst traps #this time courtesy of ben proud's very slight resemblance to Herc's fc #and lets all pretend its a full on selfie ok people #I just wanted an excuse to post ARMS

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hi maggots, it's Asmi!

It seems we have arrived at That Point again, when I need a new intro post. So here we are! The Official (kidnapped) Good Omens Mascot and uh Maggot Prince has returned with a fresh post.

First, before I talk about myself, here are some important links that people ask me for and I want to make sure they're accessible:

The Official Maggots Server of Doom on Discord: The server of kindness and chaos and brainrot where we just vibe (I promise you'll be welcome there, whoever you are, maggot, so many people who were shy are now screeching at me and I love that). Link here.

Weirdly-Specific-But-Ok The Youtube Channel: Yes, thanks to the 10khaos post, I made a Youtube channel. I intend to cause a lot of chaos on it, I have already begun. Hehe. Link here.

My Ko-fi: Ummmm this exists? Wahoo a Ko-fi. No pressure and I appreciate you all whether you're a silent lurker, causing chaos, supporting me with words or supporting me on Ko-fi. I love you. Link here.

My PO address and email: I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU, SNAIL MAIL OR MAIL OR OTHERWISE! Link here.

The Good Omens Ad: A lot of you ask me what Good Omens is about. Never fear! I wrote an advertisement for it ages ago, and @1800ineedshelp edited it fabulously. Link here.

Okay I think that's the important parts, I'll edit it later, and now... uh HELLO!

I'm Asmi, I'm 20 years old, he/him, very queer and probably napping at any given moment of the day. Because of a chaotic post, I now have a fandom. My fans, such as they are, are known as maggots. There is a lot of significance behind that (accidentally, I just picked it because it looked like mascot kind of).

I am the Official Good Omens Mascot, because I was kidnapped by the fandom in January after I made a summary post of Good Omens without watching it, just by what I saw on my tumblr dash. I have grown very fond of this title and the fandom, and have since watched the show (some episodes twice) and am currently reading the book, with which I have a homoerotic rivalry (yes, with my copy of the book). I believe it is called Stockholm Syndrome. The fandom insists it's Love. I choose to believe them. Why? As Neil said, Love.

On that note this blog is a safe space for all queer people, and yes that includes aroace-spec people, trans people, all queer people. If you don't agree with that, there's the door *points to a pit of boiling sulphur*.

ANYWAY YES ENOUGH TALKING WELCOME TO THE CHAOS JUST BE KIND AND RESPECTFUL OF EACH OTHER, BE AS IRREVERENT TO ME AS POSSIBLE, AND WE'LL GET ALONG GREAT. YOU DON'T NEED TO INTERACT TO BE PART OF THIS FAMILY, EVERYONE IS WELCOME! WAHOO!

[if you see talk of spare organs, the Wibbles Incident, Fae kidnapping, Red Bull-induced madness, me thirsting over Crowley etc, don't worry about it, it's normal here. just be careful when gardening and/or fishing is mentioned, it's a trap.]

I LOVE YOU!

#good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #intro post #asmi #now with a youtube channel #maggots #now with a discord server #the official maggots server of doom #good omens #good omens fandom #lgbtqia #crowley #my beloved #had to include them in the post #queer community #asmi10kpocalypse #10khaos

[the-modern-typewriter]

ah, could you write something about a vampire x mortal who always reincarnates

The vampire recognised the scent of them immediately. Part of them thought it might be wishful thinking. The other part burned with thirst and longing and too many raw things for any one person - supposedly soulless vampire or not - to cope with.

If they needed to breathe, they would have been breathless.

It wasn't them.

It couldn't be them.

"Jesus," they heard their lovely and inexplicable love murmur. "What have they done to you?!"

The sounds of the world grew a little louder as the human began to tear down the wall around them, inch by cold and concrete inch. The vampire felt like they had been trapped for a very long time.

(They suspected that they might have been trapped for a very long time).

The sound of that blood, that impossibly familiar blood, roared in their ears. A heartbeat. A lifeline. A hangman's noose.

"Don't." The words were inaudible with disuse. The whisper of cracked plaster and old bones long since desiccated.

Cool air caressed the hollow of the vampire's throat as that part of the wall was shattered through first. The vampire couldn't see them straight away, there was only the agony of hope. Glimpses.

Their love had a new haircut - something of the contemporary style, perhaps? Their eyes were so much older than their face. Their lips were pressed in a harsh, trembling, utterly livid line.

Was it truly them?

Their love looked like a strange memory, not quite accurate to the version that the vampire knew. Different. The same. Younger?

The vampire tumbled out of their broken cage less like a deadly immortal apex predator and more like a Jenga tower made out of soggy potato wedges.

The human caught them, cradled them close, pressing frantic kisses atop their no-doubt horribly greasy hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," the human said. "I thought you were dead. If I'd known - it's going to be okay now. You're going to be okay."

Maybe it was a hallucination.

Maybe the vampire had finally died.

That blood was so close, so enticing, a siren call that they were too pathetically weak to even reach for. They didn't feel like a living thing at all.

The vampire groaned.

"Blood." The human - the hallucination, the everything because if they were dead or hallucinating than at least the vampire got to see them again - blurted the word. "You need blood. Of course you need blood! You must be starving. Shit. Okay."

The kisses stopped crowning their head.

It was possible that hallucinations were supposed to hurt less.

The scent of blood grew stronger. Something was pressed against the vampire's mouth and -

They drank.

When the vampire came to themselves again, they had only the vaguest memory of stumbling out of the tunnels and into the inky night. The human's arm was warm and secure around them. There was a bed. Soft sheets. Fresh air. A growing strength returning to their body.

The room around them was clear. The human sitting by the bed was undoubtedly there, but still impossible. Still some miracle.

"You look a lot less dead now," the human said, apparently making a remarkable effort to keep their voice light. "That's good. Dead doesn't suit you."

"You died." The vampire had processed the grief for years, as if such loss could be neatly packaged and boxed away like a vampire feral with mourning.

"I came back. I didn't realise you had too."

"You're..." The vampire's brow furrowed. They sat up, slow and careful lest they terrify their definitely not a vampire but not quite mortal love.

"And you're a vampire," the human said. "Wow. When did that happen?"

"Shortly after you died. You died."

"Sorry. I didn't do it on purpose."

They stared at each other, disbelieving and so crippled by relief that it left them both shy and faltering.

What did one say to the reincarnated version of someone they had loved more than anything? What did one say to a blood-thirsty monster who had spent the last decade or so entombed in a wall?

It felt somewhere between a second chance, beautiful and shining and everything that they had ever wanted...and an utterly sick joke.

The vampire wanted to kiss them.

"And you're back," the vampire said.

"And you're a vampire."

"I didn't do it on purpose." They would never have chosen an eternity without their love on purpose and yet...there they sat. The vampire was glad that they didn't have to blink, didn't have to tear their attention away for even a millisecond.

Their hand twitched on the bedsheet. They were abruptly aware that a long chain connected their wrist to the headboard.

Their love coloured. "I wasn't sure if you'd try and eat me again. You weren't...you weren't quite yourself."

"It's okay."

"It's not okay. What they did to you - if I hadn't come back - if I'd found you sooner -" It was so like them that it had to be real, and so the vampire had to smile.

"It's okay," they said. "You're back. You found me."

Everything would be okay because they were there.

The moment after that, the two of them were clinging to each other like they were clutching for the last life boat off the Titanic.

Everything was going to be okay.

"God," the human mumbled into their neck, "I missed you. I thought I was - I thought I was alone. I thought you were gone."

"Never." The vampire kissed them, then, claiming and tender. "I'll never be gone again. I'll wait for you forever."

Their mortal would never wake up with that shattering grief again.

The vampire grew used to the exquisite pleasure-pain of the reincarnation cycles after that.

#vampire #reincarnation #immortals #story #fiction #creative writing #original fiction #story snippet #writing snippet #vampires #reunion

[emo-batboy]

Fan pages on Twitter with Bruce are making me think of one thing. Kpop Twitter. Do u think they would be making fancams of him too? Photocards? Posters? Buying 10 copies of vogue just for different cover with him?

*takes off glasses* now I cannot reveal the secrets of my Twitter au BUT you came to the right person :DD

NOW CONSIDER

BRUCE WAYNE AS A FORMER MODEL (idk if this has been done before with Battinson? Let me know so I can read it)

So maybe Bruce did some covers for a business magazine in his late teens or early 20’s and it went really well!!

a few luxury brands asked if this fresh-faced Bruce Wayne would consider being an ambassador. Maybe a brand of watches, suits, sunglasses, something business-like or old money

He agrees to work with some suit company cuz his dad loves the brand and he likes them too now

This earns him his first ever taste of A-List Celeb Status. He is on the cover of magazines, not just business and fashion: Gossip magazines. Tabloids. People recognize him and want his autograph. Paparazzi follow him to lunch dates with friends.

They want to know his favorite color, cereal brand, ice cream flavor, and not because they want to be billionaires like him (poor little nepo baby) but because they love him so much they want to know every little detail of his life.

He is given the title of heartthrob over and over again (and I mean look at him, ofc he is)

He despises it with every cell in his body.

BUT he keeps working for this one luxury tailor brand until his contract ends. Maybe two or three years?

He has a good relationship with them, still. Wears their suits mostly, recommends it to friends if they need a new one. But he’s decided it’s not for him anymore.

Now. Every year, during New York Fashion Week, Bruce is invited to walk in their show. (This brand gives all of their ambassadors the opportunity.) Sometimes, he says yes. Sometimes, he doesn’t.

He refuses for a few years (during his vengeance era) until Bruce Wayne changes and decides to make more appearances. NY Fashion Week comes around, and Bruce returns for one (1) show.

Oh lordie the stans

They arrive in droves

EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER SEES THE CLIP OF BRUCE WAYNE WALKING AT THE FASHION SHOW!!

He tears up that fucking runway! He’s a seasoned veteran of course he does

THE BRAND BEGS BRUCE TO COME BACK

And ya know what?

He says yes

Cuz he wants to be personable, likable, approachable, a role model (no pun intended)

His bitterness is slowly dissipating, and he’s grown stronger after the stress of his early 20’s and the hatred of his late 20’s. He’s an Adult TM who can handle it.

This is when he learns about the new emergence of stan culture :)

The edits are EVERYWHERE

Some are from his new collections and looks

Others are made up of early 2010’s Bruce Wayne

Imagine like those sparkly ones with cute music in the background and it’s just Bruce smiling

(And then there’s the thirst trap ones, you know those one)

Pretty boy billionaire Bruce Wayne and his army of fans could declare a nation. They’re your cousin, your friend, your teacher, your goddamn accountant.

Old posters from Tiger Beat 2009 go up on eBay for thousands of dollars

And those old “vintage” fashion magazines where he’s on the cover, those could cost you rent

Bruce walks some new shows and agrees to pose for some magazines (fashion AND business, among others)

Vogue offers him the cover, which he accepts

They run out of stock.

(How is that even possible?)

Fancams of him walking down the street and attending press conferences crop up? That’s what surprises him the most.

He is still very camera shy but the more he gets to know the regular fansites, he feels more comfortable waving and talking to them. (And hopefully they don’t suspect a thing. PLEASE don’t suspect a thing.)

There are a lot of events where they’re not allowed in but if it’s a public event, they will be there

(There are some creepy ones tho, and Alfred handles them accordingly) (with a call to the police) (and occasionally a hose)

It’s fun tho, allows Brucie Wayne, Billionaire Nepo Baby Extraordinaire, to become separate from his nightly persona

This is how Bruce becomes very familiar with Stan Twitter

But he still refuses to make an account for his own sanity

It’s for the best

#bruce wayne #battinson #batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #model au #battinson is a model #WHAT IF ya know???? #I really wish I could put like 50 photos in this post but I can’t

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 1

THE MESSY MESS IS HERE! Here's the week's runners and riders.

1. Nick

It's with one-year warranty. If there's a problem again, drop it here anytime.

Everybody was playing their little games this week but Nick WON for most inventive and effective thirst trap. He clearly knew who Boston was, and he figured out how to get his attention. Now to keep it.

2. Sand

How did you manage to live this long?

HE IS SO FED UP OF THESE HOES, but he is also a softhearted fucker so one hint of vulnerability from Ray and now he's starting to feel FOND. Oh Sand...don't do it. Run a mile. Also, we will ignore the singing.

3. Ray

You’re sulking like we’re boyfies.

This man is so Gemini I had flashbacks. 'You saved me? Well FUCK YOU VERY MUCH.' His pissy faces every time Top came around though? *chef's kiss*

4. Boston

You and I are the same kind. Don’t get his hopes up. If you want to do him, do it and get it over with.

This 'I can be a ho but you can't call me that'-ass motherfucker. Top clearly rearranged his brain as well as his guts when they fucked that ONE TIME. He thought Top would try the novelty of naivete, realise he prefers experience and return to blow his back out again. Instead, he played himself and he doesn't know how to un-play himself.

5. Mew

I’m a grownup. Don’t worry. Besides, I know how to screen people.

Oh Top has met his MATCH. Mew got that heat-seeking missile to nearly blow him, cuddle him to sleep, take him on a date and confess in public, and IT'S ONLY EPISODE 1.

6. Top

A virgin? Seriously? I wanna try. I’m so sick of those fierce ones who already know it all. I want something new.

Oh I HATE THIS GUY. He thinks he's a player but he's the one getting played and I LOVE IT. Mew already has him wrapped around his little finger and it's only gonna get worse. And he knows EXACTLY how Boston feels and is toying with him. Still, when he HOPPED up on that countertop I may have blacked out a little from the downward rush of blood.

7. Cheum

We live in a country where PM 2.5, Covid, and radioactive cesium take turns to say hi. We can die any minute. If you found the right one, you found the right one. Love doesn’t need much time, Mew.

The lone lesbian trying to keep these boys alive and happy like so many over the generations. I am ready to see more of her.

8. Surprise!Drake

How about we continue at my place? There’s alcohol, music, and...me.

LEGS WIDE OPEN WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE!

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends series #only friends #bl meta series

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

Hi so, about the httyd crossover au, it's mentioned that dream was found in a cave, did he hibernated or something like that?

Sorry for bad english, Hope you're having a good day/night

During the "incident" Dream got trapped deep in an underground cavern incredibly isolated from the rest of the world. It became clear he just couldn't find a way out. Trying to blast out from the inside only seemed to destabilize the cavern and risking the entire thing from crumbling on top of him. Luckily there was underground streams with plenty of fish to survive off of. SO he wouldn't starve or die of thirst. But the lack of any sort of light turned his scales a pale grey. Kind of blending into the rocks.(Turning to stone) Dream was trapped in the caves for a very long time essentially just growing up there. Nightmare thought dream had died during the incident and so never looked for him. Centuries later There was an attack on a village that had been built right above The caves. A pack of more aggressive wild dragons attacking a newer settlement of dragon rider allies. They weren't exactly active hunters or hostile to dragons but didn't like having too many around. It would cost them more resources than they could afford. Being fairly new it wasn't the best secured in food or other resources. The fire of the Wild dragons had opened a small cave. Dream eventually found his way out of the caves. He was absolutely ecstatic and relived to finally be free. But also incredibly fearful of the humans that lived there now. In Dreams time Dragons never where supposed to go near humans. But Being stuck in a cave for YEARS meant Dream was rather bad at flying. So he was going to have to stay close to the island for awhile. And hunting on the surface proved very different than in the caves. Which lead dream to steal bits of food from the humans already there. This of course was not going to go unnoticed as Dream is a large dragon and eats quite a bit. Of course Dream could have gone back to the cave but he was scared he would be trapped down there agian. He never wanted to go back. Blue and Ink Had come over with a few Dragon riders and allied dragons. They had heard of trouble and had come to investigate and help clean up the damage from the attack. This leads to Blue finding Dream. Dream would be wary since blue smells like humans. But also Dream hadn't had much interactions with other dragons for so long. and Blue seemed friendly. Blue Ink and Dream become friends over the course of the next few weeks. Dream eventually getting the courage to show himself to everyone. The sunlight Brightens His scales slowly returning their color. He is happier than he's been for such a long time. But a questions still burns within him. .... What happened to his brother?

#herrings rambles #herrings mailbox #Httyd utau crossover au #utmv #dream sans

[vividwritinglove]

You're always worth it - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: fem!reader x Lewis Hamilton

warnings: smut (mdi), choking

words: 1K

————————————————————————

"Really, Lewis?" You sigh to yourself after seeing the notification of a new post in your boyfriend's story. He was just working out and once again sharing his fitness with his community.

Actually, you weren't surprised. He has always been very public about himself. But not when it comes to his love life and especially his relationship with you, he seemed to protect you from the public or the press at all costs. You are so infinitely important to him.

As time goes by, it becomes harder to keep your love a secret. You rented an apartment in the same apartment complex, so that you could move in together without anyone suspecting. In the first few months, everything was so new and exciting, but now it felt like a sort of gilded cage. Your love for Lewis is so strong, but you miss all the things normal couples do: going for walks, going out to eat, shopping, traveling, or just working out together at the gym.

You would love to accompany him to his races. Just be there for him physically and not only via cell phone and in front of a TV. Lewis has been in the public eye for years and knows the downside of being famous. You're not used to it, you've never been in public life before. This is just another reason that he loves about you. This little bit of normality that you gave him as soon as he entered his 4 walls. With you he can be totally himself. No mask, completely unfiltered.

The next moment you hear the front door to Lewis' apartment open. Lewis has returned from his workout. Conveniently, the gym is located a few floors below his apartment.

"Babe, I'm back!" you hear him say and a few seconds later he enters the living room. Sweaty and grinning. That damn smile with that tooth gap. You have to grin as well and hold your smartphone out to him. On your screen the picture from his story.

"Another thirst trap, babe?"

"It's in the eye of the beholder." he still grins, pulling his tank top over his head. You immediately forget what you were going to say at the sight of his muscular and tattooed torso. God, this man just knows how to handle discussions with you. You love his tattoos. A passion you both share. How many times have you traced the dark ink on his skin with your fingers.

"I'm going to take a shower." he says casually, now stripping off his shorts as well.

You swallow hard and press your thighs together. He knows exactly what he's doing and how he could drive you crazy, "I would really enjoy your company."

You don't let him tell you twice. You get up from the sofa and walk towards him, brushing your sweat jacket off your shoulders. As you stand directly in front of him, his eyes immediately move to your lips. He loves to kiss you. Your hands travel up his abs to his pecs. You feel the slight goosebumps forming on his skin under your touch, "This is supposed to be for my eyes only..."

Greedily he presses his lips on yours. His kisses are dominant, you give yourself to him. His hands also wander along your body and linger now on your ass. The next moment he lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his middle. With a lightness he carries you into the bathroom, not interrupting your hot and intimate kiss. He is everything you have ever dreamed of and more.

Only a few minutes later you are under the big rain shower. Cool water pours down on your heated and naked bodies. His every touch makes you see stars. Before him, there was no one who touched you like this. Lewis has experience, did things with you that you would never have dreamed of in your wildest dreams. Just like in this moment. His fingers are magic. You let him play you like an instrument and in return you gave him the most beautiful melodies. He adores you and especially the look on your face when you cum, "Lewis, I... I..."

"Not yet." He murmurs and your grip on his shoulders tightens. He lets go of you, turning you around and you feel his muscular body pressed to your back. He pushes you forward slightly, making you bend over a little, only to enter you right after. Gently and determinedly. Pleasurably you moan, also Lewis throat escapes a growl at the familiar feeling of being inside you. You quickly find your rhythm together. One of his hands moves up to your neck and his fingers wrap around your tender skin like a necklace. The other travels down your torso over your breasts, pressing you even tighter against him. His thrusts become more imprecise, your mutual moans increase and again that comforting warm feeling forms in your abdomen.

"Come on, baby girl. I need to hear you." Lewis murmurs lustfully in your ear, lightly squeezing your air supply. As if on his command, it overcomes you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your knot bursts. Shortly after, Lewis is ready, too. His grip on your neck loosens and quickly he kisses the slightly irritated skin of the crook of your neck. Exhausted, you nestle your face against his. A blissful smile plays around your lips.

After the shower, you two linger a bit in the bathroom. You sit down on the vanity in your bathrobe and rub your hair dry with a small towel. Lewis, with a towel hanging loose around his hips, stands in front of the mirror and puts lotion on his body.

"I want to work out with you tomorrow."

Lewis looks over from his reflection to you, a little puzzled. But then he smiles and nods, "Agreed."

The Next Day

lewishamilton and y/username

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fandom

[modelbus]

okay, i might be late but— would you consider writing a pt 2 of the ranboo x player!male!reader oneshot? tysm for your work ❤

Of course! I wasn’t exactly sure where to take it, but I did my best!

Check out part 1!

Pairing: Ranboo x M!Reader

Interesting Interview Part 2

You were crazy. This was crazy.

You had been messaging Ranboo for months now, and you two had spent countless hours just talking. It felt insane to even think about how it all started: with just one little interview. And what was even more insane? You were in his city for a game.

They could be minutes or hours away right now, and you could meet up with them. Sure, the two of you had joked about it, but nothing serious. Yet here it was. Your chance to meet him in the flesh after so many years. Of course, you had seen images of him online. Him in general, really. His streaming was going incredibly well, and you loved to message him stupid things during a stream to see how he'd react. And in return, Ranboo messaged you during interviews or games.

"Get your head in the game, kid." Your coach says when you take a swig of water. "Leave the thinking until after we win."

"Yes, coach."

It was hard, of course. Ever since the moment he first messaged you it seemed all you could think about was if there would be a message waiting for you the next time you checked your phone. It was like an addiction. Part of you wondered if this was what internet fame felt like. For every notification you got, a rush went through your veins.

Somehow, you managed to not let it affect your playing. The second you stepped in front of that net was the second your mind tuned everything but the game out. There's a reason you're such a good player, and this was it.

This and the fact that Tik Tokers made a shit ton of thirst traps.

The game goes by smoothly, exactly like your coach had predicted it would. The other team was victim to patterns of play, a weakness your team knew how to exploit well.

So, you walk off with a victory secured and a mind free enough to think about Ranboo and the lack of messages your phone had.

"What's got you all upset looking? We won, man. Would it kill you to look happy?" One of your teammates asks, a grin on his face.

"Did we win? I hadn't noticed." You joke back, taking the towel he offered you to wipe the sweat off your brow.

"Are you going back to the hotel with us? I think most of us are just planning on sleeping."

"I-"

You're cut off by a commotion nearby, making you turn your head toward it.

"I'm not going to get him." Someone you recognize as one of the people working here says.

"No, I swear I know him!" A second voice says, one that sounds weirdly familiar.

Whoever the second guy is, he's being blocked by the worker. You can only assume the worker is talking to someone from the crowd, up in the stands. Maybe they got a little bit too upset their favorite team lost?

"You and everyone else. Get out of here before I call security."

The worker turns away, giving you a clear look at the fan. A fan that, with a gray mask covering the lower half of his face, was incredibly familiar to you.

"Ranboo?!" You exclaim.

They light up, waving. "I told you I knew him!" You jog over, waving off the worker. "What are you doing here?!"

"I was going to surprise you, but man did I underestimate how hard it was to actually get your attention."

"You could've just texted me!"

"I did?"

You look down at your phone, opening your mouth to tell him that you had no new messages, when you pause. An icon you overlooked earlier was very clearly shown on your phone: it was on do not disturb.

"Oh my God." You groan to yourself. "I had my phone on silent."

Ranboo laughs, his eyes scrunching up. He's wearing a mask, but you assume under it they're smiling. "See! I'm not the idiot here!"

"No way, it's still you! You came and surprised me at my own game, then nearly got murdered by security! You do realize that you'll have to wait at least half an hour for me to get out of here, too, right?"

"I wanted to see you play. Which, good job, by the way. You weren't too bad."

"Thanks, I really strive not to be too bad." You glance around the emptying area before looking back at Ranboo. "I'll meet you at the parking lot in thirty?"

"I thought you said thirty was the minimum."

"I'll speedrun, just for you."

They laugh again, and you can't help but laugh with them. This is way better than making him laugh on a call.

"I'm timing you, starting now."

You swear, turn, and make a mad dash for where your team disappeared to.

Exactly thirty-two minutes later, you're walking up to Ranboo in the parking lot, entirely out of breath. Although your coach gave a relatively short talk, it felt like forever when you knew Ranboo was right outside.

"You're late!" Ranboo calls out to you as a greeting.

"Fuck!"

"That means you have to follow my plan for the rest of the day."

"When did I agree to that?!"

"Don't worry about it. First, we obviously have to walk to the ice cream place I promised you was the best in the world."

"Obviously." You nod. "My team was planning to pass out at our hotel, so this better be better than that nap."

"Way to set me up for failure." Is his joking response. "Quick question for you."

"Shoot."

"Do you come here often?" He nods back to where you had come from.

The smile you erupt into is surely stupidly large, but you can't help yourself. This was your guys' thing. When you shared it with that interviewer, you never could've imagined it leading to this.

"Only for the balls."

But you're damn glad it did.

#ranboo #ranboo x reader #ranboo mcyt #ranboo imagine #ranboolive #mcyt imagine #mcyt #ranboo dsmp #dsmp #ranboo x you #male reader

[calif0rnia-lovers]

kiss it better 03.

pairing: jax teller x black!reader | warning: not much in this chapter tbh

sum: you’re back in charming. perfect timing for a storm is brewing. jax teller has an unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

chapter 02.

The moment he comes to Jax knows he has overslept.

The sun was bright, slowly creeping toward the center of the sky. Its rays slipped through the thin curtains casting a glow across the bedroom.

Despite resting for ten hours, Jax’s body remains bogged by exhaustion. Ten hours paled to the amount of sleep needed for his body to replenish the remaining hours of his sleep deficit. His mind attempts to drift to the cellphone across the room. His slumber meant there were unanswered calls and messages waiting for his attention. Jax nuzzles his face back into the inviting warmth of his pillow.

The rise and fall of his pillow come in a steady rhythm, one that could easily lull him back to sleep.

His eyes open to find you asleep. Your bodies had remained close throughout the night. In the center of the bed, you had somehow managed not to be awoken by the sunlight filling the room.

Jax blinks, part of him thinking you would be gone once the action was over. The last few days had passed in an endless blur of moments. He wouldn’t be surprised if the image of you were an evil illusion summoned by his sleep-deprived senses.

Now he is awake, Jax wonders how the news of Opie’s passing reached you. When he was released, his first instinct was to call you. Not Gemma, but you.

He would have, but he knew the number he’d spent years committing to memory was disconnected. The pain he’d felt deep within his chest when he’d first dialed the number to no avail was one he’d never experienced. Its initial impact was sharp, coming as fast as it left. Soon, the sharp pain subsided, melting into an unnatural, soft dull pain that lingered for days. The ache was temporarily forgotten as Jax tackled the fires of his day. It returned to the front of his mind when he had a moment of downtime.

It took him nearly a month after your departure to learn the meaning of the pain resonating in his chest. It was the soft and slow tearing of his heart.

He’d spent months angry at you, the bitter hatred of your decision to sever all ties with him spilling into every aspect of his life. His temper nipped short, leading to Jax butting heads with everyone who stepped foot in his direction. As the exhaustion of being angry wore off, he started the chase of distraction.

Days packed full of tasks for him to complete. The list ran from the rising to the setting of the sun. The moment the list was complete, Jax was rewarded with a night of decadence. A dangerous cocktail of alcohol and heated moments with Lisa.

The vicious cycle was endless, but it kept Jax distracted from the dull pain in his chest.

When his eyes return to your face, Jax finds your gaze focused on him.

“Mornin',” he whispered softly.

“You look like shit,” you manage.

The soft smile your words sparks brings your touch to the warmth of his cheek.

“Trust me, I feel like it.”

You could echo the sentiment, but your voice is trapped in your throat. The soft smile on Jax's lips had faded slowly, his expression inscrutable. His eyes met yours before moving down to your lips.

His gaze pinned you in place, the air leaving your lungs as his touch grazed your cheek. It was a look you had encountered a handful of times in his presence. Each time, Jax had mustered enough willpower to suppress it. As his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, you realized he had no intention of pulling away.

Before he could persuade himself it was a terrible idea, Jax lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours.

They were gone as fast as they had come. The initial action is simple testing of the waters.

When they returned, the kiss was gentle and hard at once. Jax's beard was coarse as it scraped against your skin, his lips soft as they moved against yours.

Jax’s body relaxed, your arms snaking around the back of his neck, his weight shifting to press you into the mattress. Your fingers carded through his soft locks urging his tongue to part your lips. The kiss melted into a slow pace, Jax’s expert exploration of your mouth fogging your mind. You could only think of how to keep his lips on yours.

This was a slippery slope, but neither of you could pull away. Your kisses were different than any he’s previously shared. Jax’s most intimate moments panned out like every moment in his life. Rough, heated, and fast. They satisfied his need for a temporary high yet always left him wanting more.

Your kisses were heartfelt, your touch inviting as it drifted down his spine. The combination mysteriously seized control of his mind. It commanded his body to slow down. It allowed him to savor the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin under his touch. The way your body responded to his, your hips dangerously arching up to meet his.

The ringing of his phone seemed to break Jax from your spell.

You both paused, panting and breathless, listening to the chime of his phone echo off the walls of the quiet house. Jax’s heart pounded against his ribs, yours beating in tandem.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jax’s words trail off as his eyes pass over your parted lips.

What was the point of lying?

He had meant to kiss you. Hell he would have done more than that if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“It’s okay.”

You push yourself up, thankful for the distance it forces Jax to put between the two of you.

With fresh air in your lungs, the fog in your mind quickly recedes. An unsettling twinge of guilt tightens your stomach as Jax’s eyes meet yours.

A slippery slope.

A single kiss had tipped the scales. It would take a far more painful act to reset the balance.

You cannot stay here.

The reminder pushes you off the bed.

Thankfully, the ringer doesn’t relent. The moment it dies, the sound returns with a second call. Jax’s eyes track your movements, his silence prompting you to glance in his direction.

“You should get that. I’m going to shower.”

--

Not tonight.

Your foolish words echo through your mind as you stare down the Reaper grinning at you.

It looks like you’re a bit rusty, sweetheart. You foolishly allowed me to rest.

The slip of your tongue hadn’t registered until nearly an hour after you left Jax alone in his bed.

Not tonight.

The limitation on his retaliation was up. The sun was now high in the sky, blazing down on the crowded parking lot of the Teller-Morrow automotive repair shop.

The patched members of SAMCRO had filed outside with the anticipated arrival of their president. Too intoxicated the night before, Jax had allowed you to drive him home. Which resulted in you having to give him a ride back. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. But, today, you wish Jax didn’t require your help.

He was across the parking lot, back to you as he spoke to a man you didn’t recognize. Despite the distance between the two of you, you could still feel the weight of his body against yours. The warmth of his mouth against yours, and how easily it coaxed you to cross a line you’d spent years avoiding.

“What’s troubling your mind, sweetheart?”

You find Bobby’s eyes on you. Rubbing a cloth against his glasses, he awaits your response. 

You nod in the direction of Jax, your gaze returning to the man he speaks to. Arms crossed over his chest, he rests against the black SUV behind him. 

“Who’s Jax talking to?”

“Nero,” Bobby explains. “He’s helping us out with something.”

“Something?” You echo, your brow arched in amusement as Bobby meets your gaze. The action pulls a chuckle from the older man. “Am I better off not knowing?”

“Depends,” he shrugs, eyes watching as your attention returns to Jax. “On how good you were at comforting Jax last night. Don't want to bring out your jealous side.”

Your eyes roll at the implication. 

“I got him to sleep,” you sigh. “Something none of you knuckleheads bothered to do.”

Bobby releases a chuckle, unconvinced. “The kid’s stubborn, same as you.”

“How were things with him before…”

Bobby remains silent as he struggles to find words, to sum up, the events that have occurred in your absence. 

“Jax has been preparing for the gavel since he was born,” his eyes take in the crowded lot. “But I don’t you can ever really prepare for it, legacy or not. He’s been trying to steer us in the right direction, but…”

With listening ears nearby, you watch Bobby’s brows rise in suggestion. You don’t need him to complete his statement. 

You noticed Clay’s absence the moment you arrived. Although you were glad he wasn’t around to add more to his stepson’s plate, you knew Clay’s absence still weighed heavy on Jax’s mind.

Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. 

With Clay out of sight, Jax wasn’t able to see what he was plotting. 

As if sensing your thoughts, Clay steps out of the clubhouse.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.” 

Your words come out low enough to only be heard by Bobby, but Clay’s gaze scans the crowded lot before settling on you.

He’s visibly aged since your last sighting of the former president. The tubes tucked into his nostrils snaked down his chest to the oxygen tank in his left hand. He looked meek and surely incapable of riding his bike out with the rest of the club. His expression remained unreadable as you lifted your hand offering him a wave.

“I don’t imagine he’s been supporting Jax in his new role?”

With a slight shake of his head, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder. Giving you a gentle squeeze, he offers you a warm smile as your head briefly rests against him.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Soon you’re left alone, nervous energy radiating through your body as Jax makes his way toward you. 

Despite the feeling, you cannot deny him a smile as Jax comes to a stop before you. The smile on his face is one you’d spent years missing. Paired with the bright blue eyes searching your expression, you almost forget about the circumstances surrounding your arrival the night before. 

Not tonight.

You blink, eyes dropping from his to your worn sneakers. 

“Thanks for last night,” he says, his fingers finding yours.

Your eyes focus on his split knuckles. Your thumb gingerly passes over the damaged skin. 

“And this morning.”

The second half of his statement comes as your eyes meet his. 

“I just want you to be okay.”

It’s not a lie. You’ve never meant anything as much as the words you’ve just spoken. The problem is, you know placating Jax’s current state would only lead to a more difficult departure.

“It feels that way when you’re here.” The softly uttered admission is not meant for your ears.

Jax reaches into the chest pocket of his kutte. He retrieves a familiar scratched eight ball. The same keychain you’d passed to him the last time you said goodbye in the same spot years before. The key he’d forged for you still sits on the ring. 

His throat clears as your fingers brush his in retrieval of the key. “You can uh–stay with me as long as you’re here.”

You meet his gaze. His eyes are curious. His invitation is a shoddy attempt at asking the question his lips can’t utter.

How long will you stay?

“Thank you.”

You house the keychain in your front pocket, a silence falling over the two of you. 

You can feel her gaze before you spot her. It sears into your skin as your fingers remain interlaced with Jax’s.

Jax follows your gaze, a deep breath filling his lungs as he glimpses Gemma's narrowed eyes. The corner of his lips tugs into a smile as he shifts, blocking you from her sight. 

“Play nice,” he sighs. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes relaxes your tense grip on his fingers. “The last thing I need is to break up a fight between you two.”

“I’ll play nice if she does.” Your matter-of-a-fact tone morphs his smile into a grin.

He knew your words rang true. He never dreamt he’d witness a woman who could go toe to toe with his mother until he met you.

The warmth of his hands against your cheeks forces your gaze to meet his. You make a point of allowing your eyes to roll as you huff a “fine.”

“I’m only doing it because you asked,” you mumble.

You can feel your body relax as his soft chuckle fills your ears. Your eyes drift shut as his lips press against your forehead. A parting gift he’d given you for as long as you can remember. 

“I gotta go,” Jax mumbles. Despite the admission, you both remain where you stand. 

Your lips meet his halfway. The featherlight kiss drew his hands down your spine. Pulling you closer, he deepens the kiss as you relax against his chest. 

“Be safe, please.” 

Jax’s response to your request comes in a gentle squeeze of your waist. He slips his sunglasses over his eyes before starting toward his bike.

Your mind drives away with Jax as he disappears through the parking lot gates. The distraction allows Gemma to settle alongside you, her voice causing you to jump.

“Gotta admit, I’m surprised you lasted the night.” Your eyes remain on the gates, but Gemma can easily read the tightening of your stance. Her shade-covered eyes rake down your entire frame. “Thought you’d vanish before the sunrise. Isn’t that more your style?”

The breath you take comes out softer than you expect. The smile you’ve fixed on your face instantly forces your shoulders to relax.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Gem.”

Gemma lets out a dry laugh as you face her. Instead of matching your words with a snide remark, she nods over her shoulder.

“It's too hot to do this out here,” she sighs, her hand raising to fan her face. “Let’s go in.”

You follow Gemma across the lot towards her office.

The cramped room welcomes you with the forgiving breeze of AC. You sink into the seat opposite hers, eyes passing over the familiar walls. Not much has changed. Her desk is still cluttered, stacked high with files and receipts. The only additions you can easily find are the updated photos tacked against the wall.

A soft smile finds your lips as you observe a photo of Jax.

He sits on his Harley, his son seated in front of him wore his helmet. Older than your last encounter, Abel wears a smile that matches his father's.

“You must have really missed it here.”

Your brow arches, gaze leaving the photo to find Gemma relaxed in her chair. She takes a drag of her cigarette before pointing the lit tip toward you.

“You came running back the second you got a chance.”

“I never missed this place. It’s full of leeches that suck you dry.” Gemma scoffs as your eyes linger on her. “I did miss the weather. Winters in New York are too cold for my taste.”

Gemma’s brow lifts at the admission. “Thought you’d be used to it by now.”

“Why?”

“Jax mentioned that’s where you’re from.”

“Not originally. My mom and I moved there when I was four.”

“What about your dad?”

You shrug.

Breaching the topic of family history is never something you enjoy. Let alone with Gemma on the receiving end. Although you had lived in Charming for five years, Gemma can admit she barely knows much about you.

You had never taken a liking to her. Which was fine for her, Gemma never liked you. She watched you arrive, a stranger to the ways of her lifestyle, but you somehow easily fit in. The moment her son laid eyes on you, Jax was incapable of escaping you. The hold you had over her son, Gemma couldn’t comprehend.

Five years, and not once did you allow Jax to cross the line of friendship. That’s why he couldn't get rid of Lisa. As long as the line remained uncrossed, Lisa believed there was hope.

You knew why Gemma didn’t like you. She feared the influence you had over her son, even if you didn’t recognize the full extent of it.

Lisa thought the way to Jax’s heart was sex. She was naive to believe her tactics would work. No matter how powerful, time and time again, men have fallen victim to the lure of a woman’s touch. Men, much more powerful than Jax Teller, had lost their families and fortunes to a woman able to get them in bed. That’s why Gemma permitted Lisa to stay around. Lisa was incapable of seeing the bigger picture, and that’s how Gemma wanted things to stay.

A woman blinded by the power and money she believed Jax possessed would never think to persuade him to desert it.

A woman who could see through the allure and convince Jax to do the same, was dangerous. That is why her comment comes out with a laugh.

“Lemme guess, your daddy’s locked up somewhere. Serving life for some crime he didn’t commit?”

“Might as well be,” you watch her smile dim as you ignore the bait. “He hasn’t laid eyes on me since I was born.”

A silence falls over the office as Gemma’s eyes study you. If you’re irritated by her previous statement, you show no sign.

“Well, you’re doing pretty good without him from what I hear.”

“And what have you heard?”

“You got a good-paying job waiting for you back in New York.” Tapping her cigarette against the rim of the ashtray, she meets your gaze. “How much time they give you to come here?”

You smile at her question.

Classic Gemma.

Skillfully distracting her prey before hooking them with unsuspecting bait. Only, you’ve been in the ring with her before.

“I took a week off.”

Leaning forward, she crushes her cigarette against the bottom of the ashtray.

“Well, since you’re gonna be here a while I got something for you–”

“I don’t need any favors, Gemma.”

Like many things in Charming, favors from Gemma Teller-Morrow came with strings attached.

“It’s not a favor, sweetheart.” Gemma’s eyes roll. “And it’s not from me.”

You watch her stand. She picks a key up from the board hanging behind her desk. Turning to face you she weighs it in her palm, her eyes taking in your current state of confusion.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she steps around the desk walking to the door. “We can finally get this hunk of trash out of the garage. It’s taking up space for potential customers.”

The “hunk of trash” Gemma referred to sits at the center of the garage. The red 1965 Ford Mustang is a sight for sore eyes. It was the last thing tying you to the father you couldn’t remember. Left with your mother, the car was the only thing she had bothered to keep that came from the man who disappeared faster than the ink could dry on your birth certificate.

“If it were up to me, I would have had it crushed at the junkyard when you left,” Gemma says, eyes tracking your movements as you step into the garage for a closer look. “But ya know Jax. He made sure the prospect kept it in pristine condition in case you ever came back.”

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t take after you.”

“You’re right,” Gemma’s nose scrunches at the comment. “Jackson has always taken after his father. Right down to the bleeding heart. That’s what got him killed.”

You jump, managing to catch the keys poorly cast in your direction.

“Phil.” Gemma waves the prospect over. “Follow her, so she can return her rental. Finally, give us a reason to get her car outta here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

"For someone who called me here, you sure delivered an icy welcome." Your comment stops Gemma in her tracks.

Her dark eyes narrow as she takes in your expectant expression. Your words may have stopped short, but the unspoken question is loud and clear.

Why the hell did you call me here?

"See you when you get back."

The prospect watches your eyes follow Gemma out of the garage. He offers you a warm smile as your eyes drift to him.

“So you’re the mystery owner,” he says, hand running over the hood. “Jax’s been gatekeeping this one.”

Your brow arches prompting him to elaborate.

“Everyone who sees this car asks to buy it,” he chuckles. “Just last week, some suit came through and offered Jax 60k, cash if he was willing to part ways with it. Gem was pissed when he said no.”

A smile spread across your lips at the thought of Jax resisting Gemma throwing a fit.

“I’m Phil.” He offers you his hand.

You drop the key in Phil’s hand before starting toward the garage’s entrance.

“Y/N. You can follow me.”

__

It's not up for discussion, Jackson.

150 kilos. Three weeks.

Damon Pope's voices echoes through his mind as Jax parks before the clubhouse.

His latest meeting with the kingpin was proving to be problematic.

150 kilos. Three weeks.

Jax had difficulty moving fifty kilos to meet Pope's last deadline. He cannot fathom how the kingpin expected him to move more than double that in the same length of time. Let alone convince the club to assist in the matter.

Jax wasn't naive--his table was divided. A divided table can lead to a king's downfall. Clay was a living testament.

Since the meeting, Jax had connected with the Mayan president. Alvarez hadn't bothered to ask if Jax was okay.

"Sorry about your friend, hermano," he'd sighed as he'd answered Jax's call.

The conversation delegated a meet-up for the two MCs. Alvarez knew better than most that the responsibilities of a king did not stop for a loss.

Even if Jax could secure help from the Mayans, it was still too much product.

Fuck.

"So, the rumors are true." The smile on Eli's face stretched into a grin as he watched Jax's pace stall. Damn. He loved catching the SAMCRO leader off guard. "Your girlfriend's back in town."

Jax lifts an unlit cigarette to his lips, eyes taking in the Lieutenant casually resting against the hood of your Mustang. He pauses to light it.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Right." Eli slowly drug out the word, his eyes taking in Jax's current state.

Since their last meeting, Jax had earned himself new bruises.

Jax allows the smoke to leave his lungs before raising his question.

"Is there a reason you're here?" It's a genuine question. What little patience Jax had was threatening to run thin as he took in Eli's smile.

A dry laugh escapes Eli's mouth, the sound tightening Jax's jaw.

Shrugging off the car, he invades the President's space, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"I keep trying to figure out how the fuck you manage to squirm outta every cage I manage to put you in," Eli's growled. "That murder charge was airtight."

"Clearly," Jax huffs. "It wasn't."

Dropping it to the ground, Jax ground the cigarette with his shoe.

"Look, man. If you came to ask how I got out, I can cut this enlightening conversation short. I don't know any more than you do." Jax allowed Eli's fiery eyes to search his.

All the Lieutenant found was two pools of cool blue. The tone of Jax's voice would have convinced most. Eli, however, knew Jax was a master of gatekeeping secrets.

"Now, I gotta go," lighting patting the man's chest, Jax ignored the gritting of Eli's teeth. "I'm sure you're aware, we both have jobs to do. Last time I checked, my taxes aren't paying for you to sit on your ass in my shop's lot."

Eli reacts quicker than Jax. His grip caught Jax's arm, bruisingly pressing into his skin, keeping him in place.

He felt Jax's body change in a matter of half a second. The calm, relaxed posture tensed as Eli's grip tightened. Jax's rigid stance paled in comparison to the frigid icy blue gaze that passed over Eli's face before lowering to his grip.

"There's the man I've been hearing about," Eli chuckled, his smile stretching as Jax's jaw locked into place. He tightened his grip, the slight flinch of Jax's left eye the only sign the pain had registered. "Thought you'd let Pope scare it outta ya."

"I suggest you move your hand," Jax's voice came out low and level, the threat pooling in his eyes loosening Eli's grip.

Eli's touch falls away, the pounding of the blood rushing in Jax's ears prompting Jax to take a step forward. His fight instinct had flipped on as quick as a switch. Jax catches sight of the panic that briefly flashes in the Lieutenant's eyes, Eli's right hand instinctively moving to the holster on his hip.

The pain registering against his right palm pulls Jax's gaze from Eli's holster. Relaxing his clenched fist, Jax forces a harsh breath from his lungs.

"Unless you plan on leaving your condolences, I suggest you get the fuck out of here, Eli," Jax growled.

He didn't wait for a response. Neither man can comprehend what force pulled Jax back. It guided him across the lot towards the clubhouse, prompting Jax to back down from a fight they both knew his rage would easily allow him to win.

"I'll admit I took you for a lot of things, Teller, but not the type of man that would blatantly disrespect Opie by playing nice with the man responsible for his death?"

Eli's words echoed across the empty lot.

They halt Jax's movements, forcing him to stop just shy of the door. A long second passes, Jax's fists clenching.

Eli waits, ready to receive Jax's backlash. He just needed verbal confirmation. A verbal confirmation of the relationship between the Oakland kingpin and SAMCRO.

But Eli's request was denied as Jax yanked the door open before disappearing inside.

--

You pass Phil another beer, watching as he slides it into the fridge. Phil is behind the bar restocking it in preparation for the meeting Jax had called.

Although most members of SAMCRO had filed through the door an hour ago, you had yet to see Jax. To pass the time, you had busied yourself with helping Phil complete small tasks around the clubhouse.

The prospect seemed to be thankful for your company. He quickly found what Jax liked about you. You were easy to talk to.

Your eyes pass over the crowded room. "So…any idea what this meeting is about?"

Phil's eyes briefly meet yours before returning to the beer you offer him. His voice lowers, prompting you to lean across the bar to hear.

"All I know is…there’s a big shipment the guys gotta vote on today."

"That explains why Jax is tense."

"Everyone is," Phil admits. "Pope is offering the club a lot of money if Jax can pull it off."

Your muscles tense. A cold shiver runs down your spine.

"Pope?"

"Damon Pope, some big hitter from Oakland—"

Phil tenses. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Jax stalking through the door.

The laughter and conversations quickly die down as the President's return registers.

You watch as Lisa instantly perks up, her posture straightening as Jax's eyes drift to her. Seated at the opposite end of the bar, she has spent the last hour shooting daggers at you. The beer in her hand was nearly empty. She had tried to pass the time by flirting with Frankie Diamonds.

It didn't take more than a single look over for you to register how tight Jax was wound.

His eyes follow Lisa's gaze to you. His brow arches as his eyes meet yours.

“Your guard dogs are extra feisty today,” you note as he stops beside you.

"Can’t do much about that, darling," he sighs, reaching over the bar for a beer. “Not trying to get bit today.”

He glances over at you, surprised by your lack of comment. He takes a sip of his beer before settling on the stool next to yours. He doesn’t object as you take the bottle to do the same.

“Jax–”

“I’m good.” His response is automatic. He’s repeated it a handful of times today. Each time he said it, he believed it would move him one step closer to it becoming true.

“That’s…good,” your brow furrows, eyes watching as he slowly turns the ring on his left hand. “But that’s not what I was going to ask.”

Jax’s eyes lift to find yours focused on the bottle in your hand.

“Since when are you working with Damon Pope?”

To no surprise, your question is met with silence.

In all your years as friends, you had never desired to learn the details of the club’s business. Jax was thankful for your desire. It made it easier for him to filter out the bullshit in your presence.

Jax's brow raises as he accepts the bottle from you. “How’d you hear about that?”

It is your turn to be shocked by the presented question.

You hadn’t expected him to respond, let alone not attempt to deny your words. Instead, of deflecting the question, Jax had taken it head on. The look of confusion on his face causes you to swallow.

“Does it really matter?” You ask, suddenly wary his question may be an act of avoidance.

Jax’s jaw tightens his eyes slowly passing over the room. He releases his breath as his gaze lands on Phil. The prospect trying his best to avoid Jax’s gaze as he ferociously scrubbed a clean table with a rag.

“It does matter,” Jax’s gaze remains on Phil. “The club’s not advertising that information yet. We still got shit to work out—“

His eyes glance in your direction, his words stopping short. He knows he’s already said enough by confirming your suspicion.

“I know it’s not—“

“Your place to speak on?”

Jax watches you recoil at his harshly spoken words. The sight was one he’d hoped to never see from you again.

"Shit. I didn’t mean that.”

He sighs, hand running down his face. His eyes gripped shut. He tried his best to force down the anger still bubbling from his encounter with Eli. Lifting the bottle to his lips, how downed the chilled liquid to the last drop.

His tired eyes lifts to meet your gaze. When he speaks this time, his voice is softer.

“It’s just…I’ve been hearing everyone’s opinion on this all morning.”

“It’s a bad idea to work with him, Jackson.”

The conviction in your voice gives Jax pause. His brow furrows.

“What do you know about him?”

--

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#let me know what you think? #jax teller x black!reader #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #soa imagine #charlie hunnam imagine

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Nessian (sort of) Lucien receives a message requesting a meeting with the Night Court. Specifically, the Archeron sisters. Cassian's POV

Angsty prompts requests:

Elucien [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Gwynriel [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Lucien/Feyre [1]

Her tears like diamonds on the floor - 1,610words

Angsty Gwynriel Starfall drabble

Embrace - E - 14/? :

Collection of Smut prompt requests including the following ships:

Amren x Varian

Gwynriel

Helion x LoA

Feysand

Elucien

Viviane x Kallias

Jassa

Nessian

Gwynriel week prompts:

Solstice Night

“You’re the new ribbon Az”

To Win a Prince - Cinderella AU

Future Elucien story inspired by Persuasion - The Remembrance of Regret

Rosaline inspired Gwynriel scene

Gwynriel sparring

My Jolly Sailor Bold - Gwynriel mermay

I thought my demons were almost defeated but you took their side and you pulled them to freedom - Gwynriel based on @acourtdelaluna head canon

Moth to Flame - Gwynriel Summer Solstice

Frost and Flame - Pure angst from Lucien's POV, no happy ending

A Court of Light and Shadows series - Elucien/Gwynriel

This series consists of an Elucien prequel then a Gwynriel and Elucien story that run tandem to each other - the directions for the tandem read are in the notes of each respective chapter for those interested

A Breaking - M - 1/1 - 2,899 words

After witnessing the almost kiss on Winter Solstice, Lucien makes a decision.

A Court of Shadows - E - 37/37 - 94,718 words

Azriel has begun to notice that his thoughts regarding a certain priestess have begun to shift. Before he can fully set aside his more inappropriate musings, Gwyn makes a proposal he can't resist

A Court of Light - M - 31/31 - 88,258 words

A year after the events of A Breaking, Elain feels a tug on the bond and realizes her estranged mate is in danger. Lucien, now returned to the Night Court, wonders if he might have been too hasty in his decision to leave, and if there might still be a chance for him with his mate

#acotar fanfiction #masterlist #gwynriel #elucien #emorie #helion x loa #nessian #amren and varian #feysand #kallias x viviane #jassa

[richincolor]

New Releases

It's a slow week as we head into Easter and for some of us, relaxing on Spring Break or pushing though that last week before Spring Break. Both of these books look interesting. Which one should I read during my break?

Icarus by K. Ancrum HarperTeen

Icarus Gallagher is a thief. He steals priceless art and replaces it with his father’s impeccable forgeries. For years, one man—the wealthy Mr. Black—has been their target, revenge for his role in the death of Icarus’s mother. To keep their secret, Icarus adheres to his own strict rules to keep people, and feelings, at bay: Don’t let anyone close. Don’t let anyone touch you. And, above all, don’t get caught. Until one night, he does. Not by Mr. Black, but by his mysterious son, Helios, now living under house arrest in the Black mansion. Instead of turning Icarus in, Helios bargains for something even more dangerous—a friendship that breaks every single one of Icarus’s rules. As reluctance and distrust become closeness and something more, they uncover the bars of the gilded cage that has trapped both of their families for years. One Icarus is determined to escape. But his father’s thirst for revenge shows no sign of fading, and soon it may force Icarus to choose: the escape he’s dreamed of, or the boy he’s come to love. Reaching for both could be his greatest triumph—or it could be his downfall.

Dead Girls Walking by Sami Ellis Amulet Books

Temple Baker knows that evil runs in her blood. Her father is the North Point Killer, an infamous serial killer known for how he marked each of his victims with a brand. He was convicted for murdering 20 people and was the talk of countless true crime blogs for years. Some say he was possessed by a demon. Some say that they never found all his victims. Some say that even though he’s now behind bars, people are still dying in the woods. Despite everything though, Temple never believed that her dad killed her mom. But when he confesses to that crime while on death row, she has no choice but to return to his old hunting grounds to try see if she can find a body and prove it. Turns out, the farm that was once her father’s hunting grounds and her home has been turned into an overnight camp for queer, horror-obsessed girls. So Temple poses as a camp counselor to go digging in the woods. While she’s not used to hanging out with girls her own age and feels ambivalent at best about these true crime enthusiasts, she tries her best to fit in and keep her true identity hidden. But when a girl turns up dead in the woods, she fears that one of her father’s “fans” might be mimicking his crimes. As Temple tries to uncover the truth and keep the campers safe, she comes to realize that there may be something stranger and more sinister at work—and that her father may not have been the only monster in these woods.

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks #young adult books

[whitesuitdarkiplier]

Darkiplier x reader who finally confronts him for stealing their body and leaving them behind? Sobbing and filled with sorrow and rage as they scream at him, and Dark has the crushing feeling of remorse, because he had become so broken and bitter over the years that he hadn’t truly thought about what he and Celine had done to the reader. He hadn’t stopped to think about it, because he knew if he ever did that he would never be able to keep up the bitter rage to complete his mission of revenge against actor mark.

IDK, I just like the idea of the actor maybe starting out of getting the reader from the mirror and putting them in his stories, but that the memory wipe isn’t as good as he thinks it is, because the reader, every time they start to remember, chooses to stay, because at least actor came back for them. Because while actor mark is Dark’s villain because he stole his body and left him to die, technically, Dark did the same thing to the reader. So, Dark would technically be reader’s actor mark. So how can they ever be what they were before? How can they? Every time the reader looks at Dark, all they see is their own walking corpse.

Anyways, I like pain and angst and think that would be cool to be explored.

Prompt: “He came back for me. You didn’t. And you know what? I don’t need you anymore.”

This was so emotional to write. Thank you for this prompt! Angst is good for the soul sometimes. I hope you really enjoy it!

You and Mark had been on many adventures together. Many crazy situations you didn’t know how to escape, many fun times you never wanted to end…and all the while, he thought it was because you couldn’t remember who you were, what had happened—what he had done. Whatever he did to purge you of your memories faded more and more with time. There were inklings of the truth always there, always an option to leave and never look back. To leave the demon to his demons and rest your own soul.

But even though by now you remembered everything, knew what was going on, you stayed. You stayed by his side. You said yes to him, you never split up, you held on. Because despite the sins of his past—he always did the same for you. He found you, lost and broken, alone where your once best friend had left you. He picked up those shattered pieces and made something new, gave you a starring role right by his side. He called you friend.

Perhaps it was all a lie. A way to keep someone else trapped with him in this never ending purgatory; misery does love company, after all. But even so…he never abandoned you.

You were back in the void again, a familiar ringing, a familiar face. Dark stood before you, and you’d met him a thousand times before. But now was different. Now, you wouldn’t remain silent.

“I know the feeling of being trapped in his games,” Dark said, almost pleading with you to wake up, “But we don’t have to be.”

“We?” You scoffed, something in you set ablaze, “There is no ‘we’. You left me. You promised we would fix things together and then you left me.”

You start to shake. You’re standing before your own broken and battered corpse. You try to see Damien and Celine beneath it all, but…you can’t. Not anymore. All those years of solitude and pain boil to the surface in rage and sorrow.

“Do you have any idea how long I waited, scrounging my mind for even the smallest bit of hope that you would return for me,” tears quickly form in your eyes and spill down your cheeks, “You were so caught up in your thirst for revenge that you discarded me like an old cloth and left me to rot! But you know who found me? You know who saw my broken soul and helped me? Mark.”

You took a step forward, your anger fueling you. “Mark gave me a second life. I’m not trapped in his games, Dark. I’ve chosen to stay because he actually gave enough of a fuck to come back for me!” You glare at him. “You talk about him and his sins, but you’re the same as him. You betrayed me. Your friend. I trusted you! And you tricked me and stole my body. You’re just like him.”

Dark scowls, staring at you, but he says nothing. He has no defense, no excuse. And for the first time in so, so long…the burning rage is dampened and in its place are the cold ashes of remorse. He’s never felt more pain than this moment, when his friend…former friend, pierced him with the ugly truth. He never stopped to think of you left in that mirror because of him. He convinced himself that somehow you were in the mirror because of Mark. But it was him. The two of you could have left that manor together and tried to pick up the pieces, leaving Mark alone with no story to tell. But he played into his hands.

“So he’s gotten what he wanted,” you say bitterly, “You are the villain. And he’s the hero.”

Dark’s she’ll cracks into a million versions of himself, screaming in agony and rage. Still, he says nothing.

You turn and start walking. Just as you could choose to leave Mark at any point…you can leave him in his void. Mid-step, you stop and turn around. Fire still burns in your eyes, and your next words are a knife to Dark’s heart.

“He came back for me. You didn’t. And you know what?” There’s venom in every syllable. “I don’t need you anymore.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re standing in the control room of the Invincible II, staring out the window into the cold vacuum of space. You’ve let go, you think. You’ve accepted your role, took back some semblance of power over your own life. But still…it’s a hollow victory.

“Thank you,” Mark says beside you, looking towards your new home planet. You look at him, his eyes so sincere it makes your heart ache. So much that you don’t stop to wonder if he’s just being a good actor.

“For not giving up on me,” he says with a soft grateful smile.

You reach out and grip his shoulder in a friendly gesture. Your friend. Your captor. Your hero.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#darkiplier #in space with markiplier #markiplier #who killed markiplier #a date with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #iswm part 2 #iswm #iswm darkiplier #darkiplier fanfiction #darkiplier x reader #ahwm darkiplier #engineer mark #actor mark #wkm darkiplier #wkm actor mark #actor mark x reader

[meme-force-99]

Everyone is loving the idea of an Imperial Tech now but you all were role playing Imperial Bad Batch months before the end of season two made the idea popular and I appreciate what you have done with them. I have a lot of fun reading their stories and I hope there will be more with the plant because I really like Echo and Blithe a lot.

Thank you so much! I started him in May 2022, so you are correct that we were playing him for almost a full year before S2 brought it to the forefront of the fandom zeitgeist. I was looking for an outlet for my particular brand of cocky cleverness that was a bit less constrained that we've seen in Canon Tech.

However, I ultimately couldn't handle the amount of thirst that was trapped!😅 Therefore, last fall I handed his blog off to another member of our writing squad who has really taken him to new heights.

-- Exceptionally-Minded Mun

I also thank you! There will definitely be more plant shenanigans with Blithe and Echo in the future, so don't you worry.

It is true. I have noticed lately the idea of an Imperial version of Tech is surfacing more and more within fanfiction and fanart on Twitter, Tumblr, and other social media outlets. I am ecstatic over this. I hope to write my own Imperial Tech fanfiction one day if I can ever find the time.

While not the original mun, I know that even before this blog was created, others also saw his potential. For example, @emperor-palpaminty wrote a story called "Cat and Mouse" as early as August 2021. Her writing also inspired @lyrisei to make a wonderful comic based on her work, which was a source of inspiration near the beginning, I am told.

This blog was born nearly a year later. I took over as mun in October 2022. Tech has always been my favorite member of TBB, but as a writer I tend to lean in the direction of darker themes and topics. I favor the underdogs and villains.

While nervous at first, Imperial Tech turned out to be a perfect fit for my style, and I have a lot of fun writing for him. I wanted to do right by how I perceived the character, and getting him down took some time. Now it feels more natural, and I am happy to be his mun.

I am curious what you guys think! Now that we have all seen the season finale, if Tech does indeed return, and if he is indeed Imperial, what do you think he will be like?

Will he have cybernetic limbs? Will he be among the first dark troopers? Will he be chipped? Will he be brainwashed and serve under Dr. Hemlock like Emerie? Feel free to leave a comment or go ahead and reblog with your thoughts! We would also love to receive and send more recommendations of fan works featuring this variant!

--Imperial Tech mun

[charmspoint]

Sanguine Friday 7

Potential intro scene of Prinn and Duchess meeting

-

It wasn’t a bad looking mansion.

Nestled in a sprawling garden, roses climbing its sides, ruby red apples hanging off the trees, fishes swimming in the decorative ponds, it would have looked like something out of a fairytale if the stonework of the building itself wasn’t so dark. Burgundy drapes sheltered the inside of the house from direct sunlight and the wood of the door was dark, clean cut, no visible irregularities.

Prinnsal refused to let the aesthetic trappings of the lair lull him into a sense of comfort. What hid inside was nothing short of a thirsting monster, one that would sooner drain him of his blood than invite him in for tea.

And still he approached.

Still, he took the knocker in his hand—Intricate, branching frame, the wear on the gold attempting to hide beneath an inadequate new coat of paint—and banged it over that immaculate wood.

Suicidal, the others might have called him, like he didn’t know so himself. Like he wasn’t perfectly aware that an angel knocking on a vampire’s front door is just a feast delivering itself to the doorstep. But he wasn’t stupid nor reckless nor quite done with his life yet. There were simply more pressing things that wanted to kill him than a bloodsucker with a pompous taste.

The door opened without so much as a creak. Through the narrow opening, a man stared out at him. An old, gray haired man with eyes almost bulging out of his skull, like an insect inserted into a human-like suit. His eyes darted over Prinnsal’s frame, before shutting the door again.

For a couple of minutes, Prinnsal wondered if that would be it. If he would he would simply be turned away without so much as an acknowledgment of his stupidity.

But no. His blood alone was too delectable of a lure. The man returned. He opened the door wide. He bowed deeply. He motioned Prinnsal in.

So Prinnsal stepped into the belly of the beast.

Walls of the hallway crowded around him oppressively, claustrophobically. Every few feet, a rose shaped candle gave its damndest to light up the dimness of the house, failing considerably in the battle against the rich black walls and the scarlet carpeting.

Prinnsal kept his back straight, his fists unclenched. Every rune on his body screamed at him to flee, to turn tail now, while he still could, while he still lacked a bite at his throat and death at his back. But he was made of firmer stuff than fear. He was made of the hardest steel tested under the cruelest lash. Hundred years of torture couldn’t bend his back and neither would this. Even if this turned out to be the thing that actually killed him.

The house opened up as he was led into the parlor. A spidery chandelier gave the room some much needed light, dripping red specks of light down onto the two couches positioned around a tea table. The frame of them was a dark cherry rosewood, the firm panels carved in the shapes of snarling wolves chasing a fleeing doe. Brought to life by a masterful hand, that was plain to see, each animal lovingly crafted with distinct fur patterns and lively posing. 

On the further seat, the one facing the door, sat the woman he had steeled himself to meet. And he could have prepared for a week more and still failed to suppress a shiver that ran up his spine that first time their eyes met. What greeted him from those eyes was visceral, raw hunger.

He tore his gaze away from her eyes, only to have it snag on her mouth instead. Tips of fangs poking out between her lips, two tiny pears in a sea of dark red. Panic pinched at his mind in a sharp burst, almost making him miss her actual greeting.

“You know, my dear, it’s usually customary that one should announce themselves before coming to visit. I must say I’m caught quite unprepared to receive such an esteemed company.” She looked at him like she wanted nothing more than to tear his throat open and gorge on the blood. She smiled like a hostess keen on entertaining exactly how good manners dictated before she did just that. “Nevertheless, we must preserve. Sit, will you not? Tea please.”

The last line was directed towards the wavering servant in the doorway and the man bowed before disappearing from sight. There was something strangely unnerving about being left alone with her. Prinnsal had never before been this close to a vampire. He never before felt so much like a mouse in front of a starving cat.

She must have seen it in his eyes, in the briefest hesitation before the next step, because her smile widened and her fangs flashed fully in the dull candlelight.

“Sit, little lamb.”

Prinnsal did what he did best.

He gritted his teeth behind a smile and approached like there was nothing to run from. She lounged on her seat, hair spilling over her shoulders in bronze waves, relaxed in that finicky way of cats that could lash out at any moment. He refused to break eye contact first. It set his nerves on fire but he wouldn’t allow himself to yield a second time.

“I’ve come to you with a proposition.” He said, every muscle in his body tense just to keep his voice steady.

“A proposition, how exciting.” She grinned, leaning towards slightly, her dress—all shadows spilling over a scarlet sea—leaving little of her voluptuous figure to imagination. The servant returned and set the platter down on the table, two cups of tea and a generous helping of sugar. The subtle scent of pomegranate wafted through the air as she waved the servant off before picking up her cup, gently blowing out the rising steam. “And what may be your proposition, little lamb?”

The teacup didn’t stain with lipstick as she drank from it, not even a hint of the dark red color that was too vivid not to have been painted on. His own throat felt dry so he reached for the tea too. Tried to enjoy the warm lull of it without thinking of all those stories that warned not to eat the food of the underworld.

“I know how much your kind values the blood of my kind.” His voice sounded steadier than he thought it would, and that fact alone gave him the confidence to continue. “There are rumors saying that our blood stops your decay and the dungeons are filling up because it must be true.”

Something glinted in her eyes, a sharp sort of light, like the reflection of sun on a polished dagger. She brought her tea away from her lips and set it back down on the platter. Rings glittered on her fingers as she folded her hands down in her lap.

“Interesting,” she said that word as if she meant to say foolish, “I thought you were far more ignorant of your position in the world to come knocking on my door. Did you fail to consider this visit might cost you your head.”

“Wouldn’t dream to.”

“And yet here you are?”

“I thought that perhaps you’d like to entertain the idea of me being more useful in the long term.”

She licked her lips. One long, slow swipe of her tongue that cleared away the pink stains left by the tea, but left the makeup unsmeared. “How quaint, I’ve never before had a meal come to my door and demand to be played with. You’re masochistic, for an angel.”

“I haven’t come here to offer myself as a meal,” he said, even though that was only partly true. “One meal means nothing. You eat me now and, in a week, you will hunger for angel blood again. But you keep me under your roof, in your care, and I will willingly let you feed off of my blood every day, for as long as you wish to have it.”

There was that glint in her eyes again and this time when she swiped her tongue, she trailed it over the sharp edges of her teeth. “And in exchange?”

“In exchange I ask for nothing but protection. I am to be yours exclusively. You shield me from others of your kind that may wish to harm me.” He hesitated a moment, the final confession briefly stuck in his throat, fighting to give her that much of a leverage on him so early on. “And you shield me from anything else that may come for me.”

Curiosity infested her smile, turning it into a butcher’s knife. “Poor little thing, is someone chasing you?”

“No one that could stand a chance against you.”

“Oh you flatterer,” she laughed, waving her hand at him dismissively, though her eyes shone with pleasure. “You come with a whole heap of trouble, I just know it, but…mine exclusively.” Her smile played over the edge of the words. “I like the sound of that. Do you have a name, little lamb?”

“Prinnsal.”

“Prinnsal,” she turned it over in her mouth like candy, hissed out the ‘s’ and curled her tongue around the ‘al as if she were savoring the taste’, “A cute name for a cute pet. Prinnsal then.” She reached down below the tea table and pulled out a knife. It wasn’t terribly big but it was sharp as sin, the ornate handle printed with shapes of thorns and wild flowers. She pushed the platter with the tea cups closer to him and laid the knife upon it. “Flavor my tea.”

Not once during his travel there did he actually consider how the deed would be done. There was no need to, he reasoned, vampires were cruel creatures, they knew how to let blood spill and at least that they could be trusted with, if nothing else. He hadn’t prepared for the possibility of her wanting him to do it himself.

But her eyes left no room for opposition, the words of refusal couldn’t even make it past his lips, and perhaps it was better that way too. He had come so far. He wouldn’t give up now, not at the final step.

The knife was light in his hand, barely more than a toy. His eyes reflected back at him from the blade, pupils blown wide in the silver sea, as if he himself couldn’t believe what he was doing.

He did it anyway, pulled her cup closer, settled it under his arm. It wasn’t like he never bled before, but he was never one to inflict such suffering upon himself. Positioning was mostly guess work. Trying to remember where the others had hurt him, how to cut shallowly enough not to actually harm the system underneath. Divine blood still flowed through his veins and he had to trust it to keep him together. Not to let him bleed out upon her desk.

It hurt, but he wasn’t a stranger to pain.

He didn’t dig deep, barely a line, barely a small trickle of thick blood down into the rich sweetness of her tea.

A sharp sting, an uncomfortable roll of dread through his body that he tried to ignore.

The knife was well taken care of, polished to a shine and sharpened regularly. The teacups on the table all matched charmingly with the pot and the sugar bowl, black in color with the constellations painted on with delicate and precise brushstrokes of stark white. Darkness blossomed in her tea like a winter flower.

He didn’t let himself make a sound, didn’t let himself so much as wince, wouldn’t stand for the humiliation of it. He was the one who had chosen this. He would see it through. 

The trickle of blood eased and he pulled his arm back, leaving the knife down on the platter and pressing his palm against his forearm. The pain was a memory and a dream and the tea table was black walnut carved with wild roses. 

“You have strong nerves, I like that,” she said as she retrieved the cup, stirred the bloodied tea with her spoon, let that dark color spread and grow until it was the deepest shade of garnet.

She then brought the tea to her lips, drank in elegant, contemplative sips for a long time, every so often pausing just to close her eyes and sit still for a while, the smile unwavering on her lips.

By the time she finished the cup, he had stopped bleeding completely and his palm was stained red.

“I think we have reached an agreement,” she announced, extending her hand forward, giving him little choice before she was taking his hand into her own, pressing his blood between their palms, “Remain at my service, give your blood to me when I ask for it. In exchange the protection of Duchess Elizabeth will be yours for as long as you earn it.”

#lucy does a write #sanguinary waltz #Prinnsal #Duchess Elizabeth #im once again real fuckin tired so dont mind mistakes #Sanguine friday

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

James Hook is based on Captain Hook from Peter Pan. He is a 38 year old human, antique shop owner, and uses he/him pronouns. He has no powers. James is portrayed by Theo James and he is taken.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

Imagine being the ruler your own kingdom; a whole other world that no one but you could touch, able to manipulate time and feel the wind against unwrinkled skin forever. That was the life a young and adventerous James Hook led. Deemed the ruler of an island he named Neverland, James was not only a fierce and passionate leader of a crew of loyal pirates— but he was a powerful, untouchable, magical being. For years, James basked in immortality, quite literally shifted the sands of time, enjoyed the oceans of an island he knew to be his….until one day, as quickly as these luxuries were given, they were soon taken away upon the arrival of an… unwelcome guest; Peter Pan. Peter Pan somehow crossed the boarders into Neverland and was deemed, by the island it seemed, to be more worthy of the powers James had known for centuries. Suddenly, he was growing facial hair and unable to slow down the hours of the day when they passed by faster than he wanted them to. A once youthful, happy, and optimistic young boy became a grown man filled with a rage that couldn’t be quelled. He was a shell of who he once was, his care-free and whimsical attitude overruled by a vengeance that made his blood run cold. James Hook had lost everything because of Peter, and he made it his new life’s mission to make sure Peter paid for it. Then the Darlings came, and everything just seemed to get worse for the pirate captain. It felt like Peter’s power was only growing, the lost boys they were recruiting acting as a crew that constantly outwitted his own, and as James aged despite the island’s promise of eternal life, his fury grew as well. The day Wendy disappeared, and Peter went to look for her, James believed his powers would be restored. When they weren’t, and Peter was nowhere to be found, James stayed true to the only constant he had felt since losing everything; wanting to take everything from Peter in return. James boarded his ship, leaving his crew behind in case Peter came back, and returned to the mainland. He searched for what felt like an eternity, consistently coming up empty handed…. and just when he thought he was getting close, James’s search came to a screeching halt when he ended up crossing into a town named Evermore. A town he couldn’t leave. He had lost his powers, his home, his crew and now he was trapped - and it was all THEIR fault. If Peter was here, James was going to find them, and he was going to make sure they never took anything away from him again.

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ Stanley Pines: James could appreciate a good scam, and whilst he considers his antique shop to be filled with treasures far more valuable than anything Stan’s gift shop could offer… James would be a liar to say he didn’t find amusement in conversating with a fellow conm- salesman. ❀ Brooklyn Utonium: Her optimism is…. insufferable. She reminds James so much of himself when he was young and actually enjoyed his life, and every time he sees her he just wants to… kick a puppy or something to make her cry. ❀ Jafar Mungur: This guy gets it; he is determined, passionate, respectable. He is one of the only people in this town James will go to for advice, as Jafar’s thirst for power and respect is one James admires deeply. He’ll happily buy the man a drink any day.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

#peter pan #captain hook #theo james #disney skeleton rp #no powers #male bio #taken male #taken bio

[musicshooterspt]

SWR Barroselas Metal Fest, 24 a 27 de Abril

Listen to the clamour of steel... SWR FEST returns to the northern village of Barroselas from 24-27 April 2024 for its 24th edition, heavier and louder than ever! 40 bands, two indoor stages, and the same appetite for extreme music.

TICKETS / INFO

The cult is once again alive and this time we're celebrating death: David Vincent, Mr. Evil D himself, will be in Barroselas alongside Pete Sandoval in I AM MORBID, to celebrate the music of the almighty Morbid Angel with the same ferocity and heaviness we find in albums such as "Altars of Madness", turning 35 this year! And that's not all: as TERRORIZER, they'll take it up a notch in terms of speed, grinding death to its utmost. Death, of course, pairs up well with war: also from across the Atlantic, SWR will welcome the iconic BLASPHEMY, who will bring their particular brand of black metal hatred to Lusitanian soil for the very first time! Those who hunger - nay, thirst - for a good time will do no better than give a warm welcome to TANKARD, whose alcohol-fueled teutonic thrash will certainly get the party going, and if you're in the mood for pestilence look no further than SARGEIST; 25 years of pure finnish misanthropy. The melodically heavy BELL WITCH will return to Portugal with a new album, and an extreme line-up wouldn't be complete without the british CANCER, spreading death since 1988. Is that all? No, this metallic x-mas features loads more killer souvenirs on a platter. COBRAFUMA, ALPHA WARHEAD, VERME, VØIDWOMB, ANALEPSY, NECROBODE, BOOBY TRAP, TOXIKULL, REDEMPTUS, SONNEILLON, MORTE INCANDESCENTE, SYSTEMIK VIOLENCE, ELS FOCS NEGRES and CAPELA MORTUÁRIA are here to represent the best of the Lusitanian hordes. NOSTROMO (Switzerland), KRYPTS (Finland), VULTURE, ROPE SECT (Germany), THANTIFAXATH (Canada), HEXECUTOR (France), CHILD, LIK, FREDAG DEN 13E, SKITSYSTEM (Sweden), ENTROPIAH, APOSENTO (Spain), DIOCLETIAN (New Zealand), VIRCOLAC (Ireland), SCHIZOPHRENIA (Belgium), DISGRACE AND TERROR (Brazil), CONJURER (UK), SNĚŤ (Czechia) and HIEROPHANT (Italy) are the allied armies who'll be finding their way to Barroselas with only one thought in their minds: brutality! Tickets available at swrfest.bigcartel.com and at the Official Stores

Tradução 🇵🇹

Oiçam o clamor do aço... O SWR FEST está de volta à aldeia de Barroselas nos dias 24 a 27 de Abril, celebrando a sua 24º edição, mais heavy e barulhenta que nunca! 40 bandas, dois palcos indoor, e o mesmo apetite de sempre pela música extrema.

Bilhetes/Info

O culto está mais uma vez vivo e desta vez estamos a celebrar a morte: David Vincent, o Mr. Evil D em pessoa, estará em Barroselas ao lado de Pete Sandoval em I AM MORBID, para celebrar a música do todo-poderoso Morbid Angel com a mesma ferocidade e peso que encontramos em álbuns como "Altars of Madness", que este ano completa 35 anos! E não é tudo: como TERRORIZER, vão aumentar a velocidade, esmagando a morte ao máximo. A morte, claro, combina bem com a guerra: também do outro lado do Atlântico, o SWR vai receber os icónicos BLASPHEMY, que vão trazer a sua marca particular de black metal para o solo lusitano pela primeira vez! Quem tem fome - ou melhor, sede - de diversão, não fará melhor do que dar as boas-vindas aos TANKARD, cujo thrash teutónico, alimentado a álcool, irá certamente animar a festa, e se estiver com vontade de pestilência, não procure mais, SARGEIST; 25 anos de pura misantropia finlandesa. Os melodicamente pesados BELL WITCH regressam a Portugal com um novo álbum, e o alinhamento extremo não estaria completo sem os britânicos CANCER, que espalham a morte desde 1988.

É só isso? Não, este X-Mas metálico apresenta muito mais numa bandeja. COBRAFUMA, ALPHA WARHEAD, VERME, VØIDWOMB, ANALEPSY, NECROBODE, BOOBY TRAP, TOXIKULL, REDEMPTUS, SONNEILLON, MORTE INCANDESCENTE, SYSTEMIK VIOLENCE, ELS FOCS NEGRES e CAPELA MORTUÁRIA estão aqui para representar o melhor das hordas lusitanas. NOSTROMO (Suíça), KRYPTS (Finlândia), VULTURE, ROPE SECT (Alemanha), THANTIFAXATH (Canadá), HEXECUTOR (França), CHILD, LIK, FREDAG DEN 13E, SKITSYSTEM (Suécia), ENTROPIAH, APOSENTO (Espanha), DIOCLETIAN (Nova Zelândia), VIRCOLAC (Irlanda), SCHIZOPHRENIA (Bélgica), DISGRACE AND TERROR (Brasil), CONJURER (Reino Unido), SNĚŤ (Chéquia) e HIEROPHANT (Itália) são os exércitos aliados que vão chegar a Barroselas com um único pensamento: brutalidade!

#live music #musicshooters_pt #2024 #agenda #swr barroselas