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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 3 years

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Mother: Under the Pigmask

(Lucas has discovered that his friends have been targeted by his brother, the Masked Man, who's been attacking them to lure Lucas into a showdown. After a long, grueling battle, the brothers end up in a run-down apartment. Claus is laying on the ground, his mask having broken off.)

Lucas: (on the verge of tears) I know I failed you, Claus. But I tried to save you. I really did. I'm sorry...

(Before he can offer Claus a hand up, Claus grabs his sword and zaps the ground in front of Lucas with a lightning bolt, making it absolutely clear what will happen if he gets closer)

Claus: Is that what you think this is about? That you let me die?! I don't know what clouds your judgement worse... your guilt, your trauma, or your childish sense of morality. Lucas, I forgive you... for not saving me. But why... why on God's Earth... (he kicks down a nearby door, revealing none other than Porky Minch, tied to a chair, battered and bloodied, but breathing) IS HE STILL ALIVE?!

(Porky looks up at the two brothers...and puts together what's happening. He grins and begins laughing maniacally)

Porky: Gotta give the boy points! (he inches the chair forward until he's right in front of Claus) He came all the way back from the dead to make this shindig happen! So, who's got a camera? (Lucas gives him an angry glare) Ooh! Ooh! Get one of me and the Masked Man first! Then you and me, then the three of us! And then one with a Mecha-Drago! Then--

(he's interrupted when Claus gives him a roundhouse kick to the face, knocking him and the chair to the ground. Claus then puts his sword inches away from Porky's face)

Claus: You keep that deformed mouth of yours shut, or you will not like where I put this blade next.

Porky: Party pooper. No cake for you.

Claus: Ignoring what he's done in the past-- blindly, stupidly ignoring the entire towns he's levelled, the hundreds who have suffered, the friends and family he's murdered?! And I thought... (tears start welling up in his eyes. He lowers his sword slightly, and his voice begins to tremble) And I thought I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt... If you had been you that he twisted into a monster, if he had taken you from this world, then I would have done nothing but scour the entire multiverse, for this worthless pile of EVIL, DEATH-WORSHIPING GARBAGE! AND SENT HIM OFF TO HELL!

Lucas: Claus... you don't get it. I don't think you've ever gotten it.

Claus: I don't get what? That you and your precious Smasher's moral code just won't allow that? It's too hard to cross that line?!

Lucas: NO! GOD ALMIGHTY! No. It's too damned easy. I have the power. Do you even know how many times I could've killed him? It's all I've ever wanted to do. God knows how close I've come. Every time I think about what he did to us, I can't help but imagine how good it would feel to subject him to every horrible thing he's done to others, and then... end him.

Porky: Aww... so you do think about me.

Lucas: But it won't change anything. And If I do that... let myself fall to his level... I won't come back.

(a dark silence fills the room, until Claus speaks up again)

Claus: (heartbroken) …Why? I'm not talking about killing Wario, or Bowser, or Gabriel... I'm talking about him. Just him. And doing it because... (tears stream down his face) Because he took me away from you.

Lucas: (shaken, but unmoving) …I can't. I'm sorry.

Claus: (his expression hardens) You won't have a choice.

(he throws a small, metal object that Lucas catches with both hands: a Ray Gun. It's sparking with overloading energy, making it clear that this particular Ray Gun was modified to be lethal. Lucas' eyes widen when he realizes what Claus wants him to do.)

Lucas: Claus, please, I can't--

Claus: Oh, yes you can. This is what it's all been about! You, me, and him... Now is the time you decide! (he breaks Porky's chair into splinters and yanks him onto his feet, putting his sword to Porky's throat) If you don't kill this psychotic piece of filth, I will! And if you want to stop it, you'll have to shoot me. RIGHT IN MY FACE!!!

Porky: This is turning out even better than I hoped...

(Lucas stares mournfully at Claus' broken expression for a few seconds... and then drops the Ray Gun to the ground. To Claus' shock, he then proceeds to turn and walk towards the exit)

Claus: It's him or me! You have to decide! (Lucas ignores him and keeps walking) Decide, NOW! DO IT! HIM OR ME! DECIDE!!!

(Enraged, Claus raises his sword in his little brother's direction... failing to notice Lucas slipping a Franklin Badge into his hand. The second Claus fires a lightning bolt, Lucas whirls around and holds up the badge in such a way that it strikes Claus' hand, destroying the sword in the process)

Claus: GYAAAAH!!! (he falls backward, clutching the hand that was hit and growling in pain. Porky starts laughing maniacally)

Porky: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I can't believe you got him! You expert, rootin'-tootin' eagle-eyed farm boy marksman! I love it... you managed to find a way to win... AND EVERYBODY STILL LOSES! HAHAHAHAHA!

(but the formerly brainwashed ex-general has one last trick up his sleeve. With a look of sheer, unfiltered rage, he pulls a detonator out of his coat and hits the trigger. A hidden compartment opens to reveal an insane amount of explosives marked with the Pigmask logo. As the timer starts counting down, Lucas runs to the bombs to try and disarm them... only to get tackled to the ground by Porky)

Porky: NO! Don't spoil it, this is better! (Claus slumps down against the wall, waiting for death. Porky pins Lucas to the floor and grabs his neck with shocking strength for someone of his stature) I'M the only one who's gonna get what he wants tonight! YES! BING, BANG BOOM! WE ALL GO OUT TOGETHER! DON'T YOU JUST LOVE A HAPPY ENDING?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHHHHAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

(Lucas forces him off with PK Thunder. With only seconds until the bombs detonate, he throws himself in front of Claus and activates PK Absorb...)

BOOM

(the building is utterly levelled. Lucas manages to dig himself out, but can't find any sign of Claus. After digging through the rubble for a good few minutes, he manages to find Porky, heavily battered but still alive, still chuckling, albeit much weaker than before. Lucas continued to sift through the rubble for a good five hours before being pulled away by the adult Smashers.

Claus was never found.)

#incorrect super smash bros #super smash bros #smash bros #incorrect quotes #Lucas #Claus #Porky #Earthbound #Mother #Mother 3 #source: Batman: Under the Red Hood

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michelinchefbrando · 2 years

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flour baked stuff and what not (still more to be added)

Bread

To start my journey of becoming a “Michelin star chef” I decided to make bread. I’m not even going to lie but making bread is a lot easier than I thought it would be. It just mainly required a whole lot of patience.

Cake

A chef is very versatile and crafty, I decided to dabble my feet in the pond and make a cake from scratch. None of that Pillsbury Doughboy stuff we’re making it by hand and hoping and praying to god that it turns out good.

The end results.

So I made two cakes and let’s just say that it was quite the learning process. The first cake was just flat-out bone-dry, don’t get me started on how badly stuck the cake was to the pan. The second cake, however, was a major improvement. Since I decided to take my sweet time mixing my batter instead of being all gung-ho the cake was the right texture, it was fluffy and it was as if I was taking a chunk out of a cloud.

The ingredients I used

1 ½ cups of sugar, 3 large eggs, ½ cups of unsalted butter, 1 teaspoon of salt, 2 ¼ cups of all-purpose flour, 3 and ½ teaspoon of baking powder, 1 ¼ cups of milk, and finally 1 teaspoon of vanilla (You can choose your frosting)

To start off this Mcguffin, you need to set your oven to 350 degrees (which is like 176 Celsius).

Whilst that is being set ablaze mix the flour, salt, and baking powder together and just toss it aside over yonder for a while.

Next, you just need to prep the pan. Either use butter, shortening, or baking spray and just rub the pans and try to get every nook and cranny. Once you are done put a thin coating of flour on the pan.

Get your butter and sugar and “beat the devil out of it” until it is light and fluffy.

To prep your batter slowly add in an egg and just Whack it until it’s smooth and creamy (adding one egg at a time will make the batter smoother). When that is done just plop in the dry ingredients right in the mixer. Once that’s mixed grab your vanilla and milk and slowly incorporate and alternate it so that the milk can have a better chance of being absorbed.

In this last part make sure that the mixture is altogether so that any remaining flour is long gone to Valhalla. Once you practically erased any trace of flour left separate the mix into any cake pan of your choosing and bake it in the oven for 20-30 minutes. (Make sure to let it cool for 15 minutes when you take it out of the oven)

Bada bing bada boom you got cake just slap whatever you want on there.

https://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-make-a-cake-from-scratch-224370

Churros

We’ve all had churros from Costco (I would assume) and let me tell you they are amazing. This was my inspiration to attempt to make churros at home.

The result, in the end, was alright. Some had this soft consistency in the middle with a slightly crunchy outside and I for sure liked this. Whilst on the other hand some were hard on the inside and crunchy, which isn’t all that bad but I would have preferred them to be soft on the inside. I somewhat guessed when each churro was ready but from what I read, you need to look for this golden brown color.

What I used

1 cup of water, ¼ cups of butter (unsalted), 1 tbsp of granulated sugar, 1 /4 tsp of salt, 1 cup of all-purpose flour 1 large egg ½ tsp of vanilla extract, and the veggie oil for the frying. (The coating can be either sugar, cinnamon, or both)

To start off heat up 1 1/2 vegetable oil in a skillet or a large pot at 360 degrees

Then to make the batter mix butter, water, salt, and sugar into a pan over medium-high heat. After a while reduce the heat to medium-low and add flour. Stir until the mixture is consistent or smooth. Transfer into a bowl and let it sit for 5 mins. After that add your egg and vanilla and once again mix.

After you mix it all together put it all into a piping bag with a rounded star tip (if you want to get funky just change the tip)

Finally, very carefully pipe the mixture into the oil (don’t do what I did and burn myself). You can choose the length you want the churro to be. Cut the end with scissors and repeat until you’re satisfied.

https://www.cookingclassy.com/churros/

Apple Pie

Apple pie is pretty good heck even the McDonald’s apple pies are pretty good. Apple pies are very nostalgic for me because when I was young (who knows how long ago) I and my family went out of state to bum nowhere and we’ve stumbled upon some diner (that I think was torn down for some odd reason). Getting back on topic, the first thing I ordered there was an apple pie, and my god when I took my first bite my third chakra opened. Boy, I would commit many crimes just to get another taste of that pie, but since I am unable to I’ve decided to make my own. An apple pie that is as good or even better than the one I ate all those years ago.

Long story short, it wasn’t. The pastry was all sorts of wack. The reason is that I used warm ingredients like room-temperature butter. When making pie you should be using cold ingredients. However, you shouldn’t be using ingredients that are too cold, if so then your pastry will be hard to manage thus being over-worked. Another thing that went wrong with the pastry is that the filling was too “wet”. Do I know why, not at all. From what I looked on the internet one way to get rid of this wetness is to use some sort of thickener, It could be flour tapioca or cornstarch. The thickener would bind to the water thus making it less wet. Another trick is to precook your apples or filling goodies in the oven for a bit so it can release some water from the fruit.

Here’s what I did or what I used

1 recipe pastry for a 9-inch double-crust pie, ½ cup unsalted butter, 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour, ¼ cup water, ½ cup white sugar, ½ cup packed brown sugar, 8 Granny Smith apples - peeled, cored, and sliced.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees and Melt the butter in a pan. Stir in flour to form a paste. Then add water, white sugar, and brown sugar, and bring to a boil. Reduce the temperature and let it simmer.

Place the bottom crust in the pan then fill it with apples then once again cover with another top layer, and put butter and sugar on it.

Finally, bake for 15 minutes in the oven. reduce the temp to 350 degrees and continue baking till the apples are soft.

https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/12682/apple-pie-by-grandma-ople/

https://www.eatingwell.com/article/2055346/mistakes-that-ruin-pie-and-how-to-fix-them/

Peanut Butter Cookies

Cookies make everything good, have crippling agonizing pain, eat a cookie. Have the inability to concentrate on your work, eat a cookie and wash your stress away. Cookies are a good all-around snack from Oreos to Chips ahoys you really can’t go wrong with them... unless you get pumpkin cookies. Since I box here and there eating just plain chocolate chip cookies won’t be healthy in the slightest, that is why I’ve decided to make peanut butter cookies that I can eat post-workout. (Even if they still aren’t that healthy)

I’ve made two batches of the PB cookies and the second one was significantly better than the first. The first batch just wasn’t as good it tasted dry and whenever you took a bite it would just crumble. The cause of it was that I put too much flour in the mix. One thing I will say though is that when you take your cookies out of the oven they’ll be soft to the touch, and let me be honest with you when that happened I was shivering my timbers because I thought something was wrong, turns out everything was all good you just had to let them sit aside for a while to harden.

The ingredients I used.

1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour, 1/2 cup butter unsalted, 1 cup peanut butter1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/2 cup sugar,1 tsp vanilla extract,1 egg large, 3/4 tsp baking powder.

The first thing you have to do is to set your oven to 350 degrees. To prep, grab some parchment paper on there and whack it on some baking pans and you’ll be good. Next, grab your handy mixer ( If you don’t have one like me just grab a huge bowl and mix by hand). Mix the flour and baking powder together, set that aside.

In a separate bowl mix the butter, sugars, and the PB until they’re mixed. When that’s all turned into mush mix in the egg, and the vanilla extract, as well as the flour into it. When that’s all mixed into harmony, grab a blob of that batter and roll it into a ball and place it on said baking pan. Flatten the cookies and then let the cookies bake in the oven for 10 minutes.

Bam you got cookies.

https://preppykitchen.com/peanut-butter-cookies-recipe/

Pizza

It has been a long 30 days I’ll admit, but it was extremely worth it. Now since I have worked like a mad dog throughout this challenge, I thought it would be nice to make myself a treat, pizza. As peter parker said, “It’s pizza time”.

Making pizza was no easy task let me tell you that much. You need whole lotta things like a pizza oven. Since I’m a lazy bum I bought myself a pizza stone. Since ovens can’t naturally get hot enough to properly cook a pizza some guy at NASA invented the pizza stone. Let me tell you this thing is a godsend for those who don’t want to spend bucko bucks on a pizza oven.

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sxnyarostova · 3 years

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introducing my newest fic; battered!

(look i know i said that i was going on a writing break yesterday but i’ve already got 2k+ words written for it so)

i’ll only be posting the chapters once i more or less finish most of the action :0 a little info on it; battered is an orphydice coffee shop au.

orpheus is an aspiring guitarist who happens to be broke/swimming in student debt and fresh-out-of-college. he works as a barista at persephone’s cafe, cafe penna. he plays guitar on friday nights there.

eurydice is an art student in her final year of school. she’s not as Broke as orpheus is, but she’s still eurydice sooo yeah, kinda broke. she stumbles upon cafe penna one day and bing bam boom orphydice.

persephone runs the cafe, hermes works at the cafe too, and hades is the owner of the dry cleaning place across the road (because pike philips. yeah.)

so there you have it! i will probably come out with some playlists and moodboards :))

#hadestown #battered

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big-chicken-man · 3 years

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💑 (sympathyforthedamned) (Kinda wonder what you think this would be tbh.)

Send a Heart for a Specific Kiss!

💑 - First Kiss @sympathyforthedamned

---

"Alright, now just pour the batter into that mold there."

"Like this?"

"Bing badda boom. Let me take that off ya."

With careful hands, Bradford gave Steelbeak the mold in question, watching as the rooster opened up the preheated oven and slid the pan inside. Upon closing the door, the rooster dusted his hands off, averting his attention to the microwave. There, he set up a timer for just under an hour, turning back to Bradford.

"Now we just gotta wait. Why don't ya head to the couch and I'll get us some drinks, eh?" Steelbeak suggested.

Bradford was happy to oblige, giving the larger man a grin as he headed for the couch. Though when he sat down, the corners of his mouth drooped. Intrusive thoughts ran through his head while he zoned out.

"Ya know," Steelbeak's jovial voice cut through the silence, "you picked up real fast. I oughta have ya help out when I bake." On the table in front of Bradford, a tray holding a couple glasses and a whiskey bottle was set down. Bradford didn't respond like he normally did, even when Steelbeak took a seat right next to him. The larger man was reaching for the bottle when he noticed Bradford's expression.

"You're...an excellent teacher." Bradford mused aloud, tapping his fingers together. "You were so patient, even when I kept making mistakes. I even spilled vanilla on you."

Steelbeak cocked a brow. It was true, and the aroma of vanilla wafting from his body was proof of it. Bradford's pause left another beat of silence.

"I must say I'm...surprised. It's something that I wish I gave you back in FOWL, when I went over plans with you. Instead I shut your mouth when you spoke."

Steelbeak was quiet. They had a few conversations like this in the past, but never around the subject of patience. It seemed that Bradford preferred to avoid talking about FOWL ever since he was accepted into Steelbeak's home. Guilt was a rare emotion for the buzzard to feel, but right then and there, it threatened to crush his back and shoulders, heart trying to break through his sternum as anxiety filled his chest. He knew what he wanted to say, but converting words into thoughts had become just shy of impossible. Yet, Bradford found the strength to break through.

"I'm s--"

"I forgive ya."

Bradford's eyes widened, and in shock, looked toward Steelbeak.

"No, ya ain't deaf just 'cause ya wear glasses. I forgive ya." The rooster confirmed.

"But--"

"Look, things were different back then. We had our problems, ya weren't in the best place, ya know? I forgive ya, nothing's gonna change my mind."

Bradford was taken aback by Steelbeak's words. Though they were few, they had as much impact as a powerful speech.

"But, I'd like to make it up to you. Perhaps you'd like some money? Will that rectify the issue?" Bradford asked.

Steelbeak looked up and away for a moment, as if deciding carefully on what he wanted to do with such an offer. It was after a few moments that he made his decision.

"Alright, then...do ya mind if I try somethin' with ya? Something I've been wanting to do even back in FOWL?"

Bradford nodded, watching Steelbeak raise his hand from his lap. Immediately, he fought the assumption that his former muscle was going achieve some semblance of vengeance. But to Bradford's surprise, Steelbeak's palm cupped the side of his cheek, adding more weight to the thumps of his heart. He watched as Steelbeak shifted his body, allowing him to lean in and close the distance between them. Wild butterflies made breathing more difficult for Bradford. It couldn't be real, this had to be some sort of dream the universe was teasing him with. Any moment, he would wake up.

But he was awake, and the feeling of a beak pressing against his own was real. Warmth beyond comprehension flooded his body, warmth that he never thought he would ever feel from another person in his entire lifetime. He thought Steelbeak's chest that fateful day was warm, but it paled in comparison to the sheer affection he was giving the buzzard right then and there. It was dizzying, but only because the euphoria was overwhelming.

Bradford couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around the rooster and returning the affection in full. For that moment, the weights and shackles burdening him for far too long had fell from his body. His heart pounded so hard it hurt, his fingers trembled as they clutched bunches of cloth, and his eyes burned as tears streaked his face.

Bradford felt like he was floating in the clouds. He felt gravity's graces guiding him to the other man's form. He felt that everything in the world was right.

But most of all?

Bradford felt alive again.

#sympathyforthedamned #ask meme

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stfulinz · 4 years

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Murderously Obsessed - chapter 1

Plot - Kai Parker’s back and he’s worse than ever. He will do whatever it takes to ruin Mystic Falls and this time, nothing and nobody will get in his way.

Sweat slowly dribbled down her forehead as she stared at the empty never ending hallway of Mystic Falls High School, pressing her hand firmly on the stab wound on her stomach - her senses became hazy with the unbearable pain. She looked down at her hands, covered in ruby red blood. She wanted to throw up. There was no telling if her nausea was triggered by paranoia, disgust, or just the side effects of getting her guts impaled.

Y/N stumbled down the hallway, clinging to the lockers by one hand, the other one was dangling loosely over her white t-shirt in a lame attempt to keep pressure on the injury. She briefly closed her eyes and swallowed the big lump in her throat, fear making her almost choke on her own spit.

She heard someone screaming her name, the shuffle of footsteps so loud that it overwhelmed her. Y/N had to bite her tongue from screaming the walls of the school down, there’s no way this could be the end. No way. If she died, nobody would be able to tame Stefan from his Ripper binge, Bonnie would actually stop practicing her magic, and Caroline? She can’t take anymore grief, her mom just passed away-

Y/N winced, the ache in her abdomen bringing her back to reality. It troubled her that even in her final moments she was still thinking about the Mystic Falls Gang even though they were the very reason she got trapped here in the first place, her dear friends probably didn’t even notice Y/N’s absence from Elena’s party. She truly doesn’t blame them though, they deserved to enjoy a single night after all this time.

She pulled out her phone while leaning on the lockers and tried to switch it on. The black screen adding more to her pile of anxiety, hopelessness consumed Y/N as she threw the stupid device on the opposite row of lockers, sulking down to the floor. She had to accept defeat. She had to accepted death. Nobody is coming to save you, idiot - she thought to herself, pitifully.

“Come on, honey. Let’s get you home”.

She barely noticed the pair of legs in front of her, black skinny jeans covering the entirety of her vision as her breath got shallower by the second. Y/N felt herself being lifted by the right arm - the scent of leather jacket enveloping her.

“Damon, you really can’t be here”, she mumbled softly, not sure if he heard her at all as he carried the fragile girl in his arms. Her bloodied head stained his shirt as she rested it against his chest.

Damon clicked his tongue, the smallest act of defiance, “Debatable”.

“No, you don’t understand. It’s Malachai-”

“I know. That little weasel spelled the entire place shut, he has some nerve trying to kill you, by the way. I thought I told him to stay the fuck away, got lost in translation maybe.”

A sigh escaped her, “It’s out of spite.”

He laughed darkly, nothing about this was funny and she could feel the wheels turning in his head. “You need to shut up”.

“Damon-”

“Don’t even start, Y/N. You’re bleeding to death in my arms right now because that magic sucker has no control of his rage and powers. Don’t talk me out of this.”

He placed her against Ric’s table from History and drew blood from his wrist, shoving some down the girl’s throat when she tried to resist. The air was thick with Damon’s impatience, Y/N could feel the annoyance radiating off of him when he looked at her battered and bruised body, all he wanted to do was drink the night away while dancing with his girlfriend. Yet, here he was - on another mission to save the innocent human from a fresh faced sociopath with no eating etiquette.

He slowly lifted the shirt from her stomach to check if it was healed and she had to bite her tongue from wincing as cold air touched the bare skin. He shook his head when the wound remained just as it was, the blood still running down from her t-shirt to her leg.

“Remind me why we let him live again?”, he cradled Y/N's head gently, petting her soft hair, not even bothering to ask her what he did to her and what kind of spell he put on her body that wouldn't let her heal. He didn't let his inner turmoil and panic reflect in his voice - I can't be the weak one, not right now. Damon truly didn’t know what to do, he had always been a man with a plan, yet refused to bring back up to the school when he noticed Y/N wasn’t there when Elena cut the cake. It just happened to be a coincidence that Kai wasn’t there either. His first hunch was the school, empty at 11 in the night. Perfect place for a silent and brutal murder.

The guy was sharp, Damon had to give him that. Kai knew that the loss of this girl would particularly sting harder than if it was anyone else.

Bonnie often mocked Damon about how observant he was and how he nitpicked on the slightest things. She made him believe he was psychotic for over-analyzing everything the way he does, and he genuinely started believing her until he began noticing a pattern with Kai.

Malachai had managed to warm up to everyone except him, and Damon’s suspicion of him plotting something evil never left his mind - even after the merge when he started showing feelings or whatever act it was. It was the way Kai’s eyes went straight to Y/N whenever he cracked a joke to see if she was laughing, how he’d bring her coffee everyday, even going as far to walk her dog sometimes just to get in her good books that peaked his curiousity. Damon knew Y/N was beyond flattered, blushing every time Kai would as much as look at her.

But he also knew better than that, he knew Malachai Parker didn’t just have a cute little crush on Damon’s only human best friend. He was obsessed with Y/N. Murderously obsessed.

His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Y/N’s polaroid of her laughing whilst covered in snow from her trip to Vancouver stuck proudly on Kai’s fridge, the same polaroid she had whined to Damon for a week about losing because it was from, in her words, favorite girls vacay.

Damon learned more and more about the sociopath, noticing the tiniest thaw in his facade with squinted eyes but kept everything to himself, worried about coming across as an obsessive freak himself.

Yet here he was, holding his best friend in his arms as she hung on the brink of death, wishing he had told someone. Stefan would’ve believed him, right? He would’ve helped Damon take down this maniac once and for all. Nevermind that, he thought to himself, guess I’ll have to kill the creeper all by myself.

He kissed the top of Y/N’s head, hoping for a miracle. Hoping for Kai to show himself so Damon could do at least one thing right tonight, he can’t save his best friend so maybe he’ll just avenge her death.

“Thinking of me, baby?” Kai’s voice boomed from behind him, Damon turned around slowly, his eyes focusing on the boy wearing a Timberwolves shirt smiling gleefully at him. Damon’s stomach dropped 50 feet below the ground as his throat tightened, and with one final snap he slammed into the floor. Vision completely blacked out.

#kai parker #malachai parker #tvd #kai x reader #tvd imagines #kai fic #tvd fic #chris wood #damon salvatore #ian somerhalder #damon fic

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holdmyowos · 3 years

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Studying (Karma x Reader)

Includes: Mentions of violence, minor cussing, a very slightly racy scene...

You had really been falling behind in the class. It was not like you were not trying, it was just that you had been sick for the past few days. When you finally got back to school, you were totally lost. Your best friend, Nagisa had noticed your distress and offered to help you after school. Relieved, you humbly accepted their aid in your endeavors. You texted your family, asking if it was okay to be home late. Kuro-sensei dismissed the class, and the other students started packing up to go home. You approached the teacher. "Kuro-sensei, would it be okay if Nagisa and I stayed here after school today to study together?" He bent down and gave you keys with a smile. "Helping each other out is a great idea! I have a movie to catch, so be sure to lock up when you're done." He waved with one tentacle arm at you in farewell. You waved back.

When you turned around, all of your classmates were gone except Nagisa "He said yes!" You jingle the keys in your friend's face. He lets out a small laugh. "Great, let's start." You get out your books, then feel a vibration in your pocket. You pull out your phone. 'Sure. Just be home as soon as you're done,' The text read. You put the phone back.

After three long hours of studying with Nagisa , you were all caught up, except in your writing. You pulled out the materials for your last subject area, about to hand them to Nagisa. He took your hand, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I have something I need to go do. I need to go do it now." You nodded in understanding. "Maybe Kuro-sensei will be back to help me with this last bit. Anyway, you've been a huge help! Thanks a lot, Nagisa!" He smiles on his way out. "Don't forget to lock the door when you're done!" He calls. "I won't!"

You struggle for a few minutes trying to figure out how to write some of the new kanji in your textbook, and what they mean. You let out a frustrated sigh, and notice the sunset, the land begining to become dark. You glance at the clock. It was nearly seven, so you should head home soon. Obviously, you would not be able to do this part of your work on your own. Your eyes wander the classroom, pondering what you should do, and your gaze happens upon a shadow in the hallway. A human's shadow. Was it Nagisa? What would he be doing back here though? "Who's there?" You call, nervously. What if the person was a newly hired assassin, and they thought you were Kuro-sensei?

A person steps out of the dark hall and into the classroom's light. The flash of golden eyes. The glossy red hair. The slim build. The black-and-white top. That cocky smile. "Oh, Karma. It's you! I was wondering who could be possible be lurking about a school at this time." True, you did not know Karma very well personally, but he was one of Nagisa's best friends, and you trusted Nagisa's character judgements. You had known of him since you were little, but had never really worked up the courage to really talk to him very much, aside from school projects and things. "You're Nagisa's friend, right? (Y/N), was it?" You nod. "Well, any friend of his is a friend of mine."

He held out his hand for a handshake. This sent up some red flags. The only other time you had seen him give someone a handshake was when he exploded Kuro-Sensei's hand with bits of knives on his hand. Reluctantly, you shook it, hoping for the best. "Why are you so nervous? I'm not going to do anything. I was just curious why the lights were still on in the school building this late is all. When I saw the door was still unlocked, I thought this could be an opportunity to surprise our teacher with a 'present'." He held up a small blade. His eyes looked really threatening. Then again, you supposed that they always did. "Oh. Well, sorry to disappoint. He went to catch a movie, though it should be over by now. I'm just here trying to figure out this kanji." You gestured to the mixed up symbols on your paper.

"Well, I can help with that. I am pretty good at writing, after all. Some say my handwriting is like a beautiful font." He looked at your handwriting and whistled. "Wow. This... needs some work. This part needs to be straightened..." he pointed to a smudge of your ink on the paper, "...and this part needs to be longer, and this part needs..." his words faded into the background when he took the pen and guided your hand's pen strokes with his gentle but firm, careful but capable, hand over yours. The writing you both made was beautiful. He let go of your hand after writing a few sentences with you. He put his head on your desk in a cute position, the soft side of his face against the book. He looked dreamy. "You seem distracted, you can't focus or learn well if you're distracted. What's up?" You shake your head. There was no way you would admit that you were crushing on him hard. "Nothing. Just wondering what Nagisa's doing." He doesn't pry into your buisness, but rather nods his head. "Preparing a trap for Kuro-Sensei, perhaps. I think that's what I saw him doing."

He helps you finish the rest of the writing, and goes over a few of the things Nagisa was not sure about. As it turns out, Karma is a straight A student, and is only in class 3-E for behavior reasons. You look outside, then at the clock, realizing the time. Noticing your gaze, Karma says: "Oh my! Looks like it's dark already. I guess you should head home, right?" As much as you wanted to spend your time with him, you nodded. If you stayed out much longer, you would get in trouble. You put your finished papers on the teacher's desk, and the books back on the shelf. Placing your backpack securely on your back, you walk out of the doors, Karma following You closely. You lock the doors of the school and turn around to face the night that had fallen.

He helps you finish the rest of the writing, and goes over a few of the things Nagisa was not sure about. You learn that Karma is a straight A student, and is only in class 3-E for behavior reasons. You look outside, then at the clock, realizing the time. Noticing your gaze, Karma says: "Oh my! Looks like it's dark already. I guess you should head home, right?" As much as you wanted to spend your time with him, you nodded. If you stayed out much longer, you would get in trouble. You put your finished papers on the teacher's desk, and the books back on the shelf. Placing your backpack securely on your back, you walk out of the doors, Karma following You closely. You lock the doors of the school and turn around to face the night that had fallen.

Usually, you would have been terrified to walk home all by yourself in the dark, with only small lamplights few and far between on the side of the mountain. With Karma, you felt comforted. He would protect you, right? He was an expert in combat. You glanced up at his face, obscured by darkness. "You have a really cool name. It suits you, Karma Akabane." He smiled. His smile was so cool. His canines were so sharp, it made him look like an animal. Or a demon. "Thanks, (Y/N). I like it too." For a while, the two of you strolled in comfortable silence along the mountain path. The insects and nocturnal birds were particularly loud out tonight.

Karma took out his green knife and flipped it, always catching it by the handle. "Pretty impressive," you told him. He laughed. "That? I knew that even in primary school. It's easy." Even his basic moves were beyond you. "Since the blade is mostly silicone, you can just flip to your heart's content. You can't really injure yourself with one of theses, after all." He bent the soft, flexible tip. "You're so cool. It seems like there's nothing that you're bad at. Well, you get in trouble pretty often, I suppose. And you don't really have good social interaction with anyone other than Nagisa. But I mean, Nagisa gets along with anyone." Surprisingly, he nodded. "Agreed. But, I did just help you with your homework, didn't I? That's... something, right?" You nodded. "Well yeah! Your pros way outweigh your cons. You're handsome, smart, funny, and you likely have the highest chance of killing Kuro-sensei. Besides, when it comes to reading people, you never seem to miss anything." You blushed slightly. Was that over the top? "Well, what makes you special is that you always stand up for me. Even thought you don't know me very well, you believe in me and support me. Like my own personal cheerleader. It's nice. I never had anyone do that for me before." He became lost in thought.

A strange booming noise made you jump. From your classroom, you recognized that sound. A gun being discharged. Karma motioned behind a bush. You followed him quickly. He pulled you in and your heart raced. His eyes scanned over the bush to see what was going on. How could anyone harm you when you were with him? Pulling you close like this, it was almost like a hug. He was just being a protective friend, you told yourself. He ducked down behind the bush with you and put a finger on your lips. His hands were so pretty, perfectly manicured. How odd for a boy. "Ha! I shot you, Kuro-sensei! Thanks to the trap that Nagisa made." Relief flooded your senses. It was just one of your classmates. "Well, I regenerate so you have to do batter next time. Shoot me at least five times, and maybe you can do some real damage." The person sighed. "Oh come on, give me some credit!" The noises shuffled away.

Seeing that you were out of danger, Karma released you from his hold and looked down at you with that intense gaze of his. It was hard to meet his eyes. He took his finger off your lips, and I bing his thumb and index finger together. "Why didn't you pull away from me? I was holding you so closely. It was a little weird." How was he not blushing after saying something like that? He had to have at least some idea, right? You felt your face heat up, sure it was bright red. "R-really? I h-hadn't noticed. Perhaps I thought you were... um, part of the bush." That was by far the dumbest thing you have ever said in your entire life, you decided.

"Don't lie to me. You just said I don't miss anything." He put his finger back on your lips and traced them gently. His finger was so soft against your skin. You gulped. "What was with you clinging to me for protection? For an assassin, you sure look weak." He took his hand and cupped your jawline. "(Y/N), the way you react to my touch, the way you lean into me... do you happen to be in love?" You were paralyzed. How would he react if you told him the truth? "I-I'm sorry," You merely said, at a loss for words. "Don't be. This is a great learning opportunity. Besides, damn, you're kinda freaking cute." He left you breathless as he pulled you in for a kiss, his body heavy against yours. He gently pressed his hips on you. You pulled him in closer for another kiss.

You reflected on the night when you finally got home. Weather he loved you back or merely wanted to learn about romance was beyond you. Well, if he had wanted to only take a 'learning opportunity', the he would have gone to Miss Bitch and asked her. Besides, he even helped you with homework. A small smile played at your lips. He must like you back, at least to some extent.

#Xreader #karmaxreader #karma #karmakabane #karmaakabane

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erikacousland · 3 years

Photo

Birnbeck Pier, Bristol Channel, Weston-super-Mare, England © Stephen Davies/Adobe Stock

Today on Bing September 12, 2021 End of the pier? This peaceful but derelict pier, on England’s south-west coast, was a hub of activity back in its heyday. Designed by the famous pier builder Eugenius Birch, Birnbeck Pier – sometimes called the Old Pier – opened in Weston-super-Mare in 1867. Victorian day trippers would arrive on steamships to enjoy fairground rides, a travelling cinema and skating rink. Welsh visitors would turn up to buy a drink in the pier’s bars on a Sunday, a day when the sale of alcohol was banned over the border. The Bristol Channel has the second highest tidal range in the world and the island offered a good launching point for its lifeboats, which might otherwise have been cut off by mudflats at lower tides.

Birnbeck Pier is the only British pier which connects the mainland to an island and its light structure, based on 15 groups of iron columns, has helped it weather 150 years of battering by the sea. But the end of paddle steamers in the 1970s, the opening of the Severn Bridge linking England to Wales, the boom in foreign holidays and competition from a rival pier marked the beginning of the end for the Old Pier which finally closed to the public in 1994. The elements have long battered the Grade II listed structure and it was added to Historic England’s at-risk register in 1999.

Featured on Bing September 15, 2021

End of the pier? This peaceful but derelict pier, on England’s south-west coast, was a hub of activity back in its heyday. Designed by the famous pier builder Eugenius Birch, Birnbeck Pier – sometimes called the Old Pier – opened in Weston-super-Mare in 1867. Victorian day trippers would arrive on steamships to enjoy fairground rides, a travelling cinema and skating rink. Welsh visitors would turn up to buy a drink in the pier’s bars on a Sunday, a day when the sale of alcohol was banned over the border. You can still see the old lifeboat house and slipway on Birnbeck Island, a reminder of its history as a base for the RNLI. The Bristol Channel has the second highest tidal range in the world and the island offered a good launching point for its lifeboats, which might otherwise have been cut off by mudflats at lower tides.

Birnbeck Pier is the only British pier which connects the mainland to an island, and its light structure, based on 15 groups of iron columns, has helped it weather 150 years of battering by the sea. But the end of paddle steamers in the 1970s, the opening of the Severn Bridge linking England to Wales, the boom in foreign holidays and competition from a rival pier marked the beginning of the end for the Old Pier which finally closed to the public in 1994. The elements have long battered the Grade II listed structure and it was added to Historic England’s at-risk register in 1999. Local campaigners are trying to save it from collapse and the RNLI has expressed an interest in returning to the island if efforts by North Somerset Council to purchase the pier are successful.

Featured on Bing September 15, 2021

Birnbeck Pier on the Bristol Channel in Weston-super-Mare, England This peaceful but derelict pier, in the seaside town of Weston-super-Mare on England’s south-west coast, is the only British pier which connects the mainland to an island, linking to Birnbeck Island. Built in the 1860s, it used to be a hub of activity. Victorian day-trippers would arrive on steamships to enjoy fairground rides, a travelling cinema and skating rink. But the end of paddle steamers in the 1970s, the opening of the Severn Bridge linking England to Wales, the surge in foreign holidays and competition from a rival pier marked the beginning of the end for Birnbeck Pier. It closed to the public in 1994 over safety concerns and has since fallen into disrepair – part of the pier collapsed into the sea in 2015 – but locals are campaigning to save the historic structure.

Birnbeck Pier stretches out into the Bristol Channel in Weston-super-Mare Featured on Bing 15 September 2021

You can still see the old lifeboat house and slipway on Birnbeck Island, a reminder of its history as a base for the RNLI. The Bristol Channel has the second highest tidal range in the world and the island offered a good launching point for its lifeboats, which might otherwise have been cut off by mudflats at lower tides.

#Bing

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giogio-gucci-gangstar · 4 years

Text

Snoop’s Special Brownies

Snoop Dogg teaches Narancia how to bake. Bruno flips out.

Inspired by @jjbafanficsreblog stupendously cursed content

CW: Drug mention, major character deaths (spoiler?), apathetic Abbacchio

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“WHAOOOO SNOOP THATS SO GOOD!” Narancia squealed at his idol, the one and only Snoop Dogg (formerly known as DJ Snoopadelic, Doggy Dog Snoop, and Lion Snoopzilla), as he licked the brownie batter off the spoon. Snoop’s presence loomed next to Narancia in the kitchen, slowly teaching him how to cook. With cannabis. Snoop said it was good for stress, and boy after being speared to death in a colosseum was Narancia stressed! “So,” Snoop dragged on, still definitely high, “you just put the oil and the green in and badda bing badda boom your brownie batter is ready.” Narancia nodded enthusiastically, throwing the tray into the oven. As soon as Narancia opened the oven to take them out, Bruno came hurtling in. “I SMELL SOMETHING UNHOLY!” His nose in the air had temporarily blocked him from the scene in the kitchen. Narancia was grinning ear to ear carrying a tray of pot brownies, while snoop just kind if floated there and tossed Bruno a casual, “sup?” “Snoop Dogg? What the hell are you doing here? You’re still ALIVE!” “Calm down man. Sometimes I get so high I can astral project into the afterlife for my lil buddy right here.” He ruffled Narancia’s messy hair affectionately. Bruno shook his head, as if that would make the scene before him anymore logical. Then his nose caught a whiff of it again, ah the devils lettuce. He scanned the room, hoping it was just radiating off Snoop’s aura, but no! He saw of all things a grinder that had just been used. Presumably for those brownies... “NARANCIAAAAAAA-“ Bruno started to scream but Snoop cut him off. “Sorry my little man, but I’m starting to come down. Gotta head back to my body down there. See ya later bud,” and with that he started to dissolve. “Love ya Snoop!” Narancia called after him waving. “Love ya too little dude” Snoop chuckled. ~~~~~~ “DRUGS ABBACCHIO DRUGS! SNOOP DOGG GOT SO HIGH HE BROUGHT WEED TO NARANCIA AND THEY MADE BROWNIES! This is the fucking AFTERLIFE! What is that shit supposed to do here and why is it-“ Abbacchio grunted and stopped reading his book momentarily, “Just have Narancia tell him to bring me back a bottle of white next time. This place is awfully dry.”

#drug mention #golden wind #jjba #bruno #buccellati #abba #abbacchio #narancia #snoop Dogg #Afterlife AU

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alitheamateur · 5 years

Text

Rumor

A Tommy Conlon One-Shot

Tommy Conlon and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the beginning. Best friends for life, you’d say. Every other member of your lifelong groups of friends saw right through the way you two tended to, and doted on the other, and the rest of the town whispered about the closeness of your so-called “friendship.” They were all crazy with the buzzing gossip, or were they?

Warnings: Language. Fluffity-fluff.

Tommy ushered you through the slightly battered, creaky door of your favorite slimy, local tavern. Once weekly, your impenetrable circle of friends would gather for drinks, no matter how unmanageable your adult schedules may become. The 7 of you had been attached at the hip since high school, vowing to always have time for one another, and never let the woes of work, family or life interrupt.

This week’s decided night was Friday, much to your satisfaction. They all loved giving you the most grief over acting as the so-called ‘mom’ of the group. Always being the cautious one, the responsible one, and the one who painfully hated staying out past 9 on a weeknight. Truthfully, you’d stay home if it wasn’t for Tommy. You loved your friends, the family-knit bond of your group one you held in the deepest of regards. But, sometimes the quiet of your apartment, and a bottle of wine tickled your fancy more than the poignant booming of a crowded bar.

You were about to head directly towards the bar, getting a heads-up on the drinks would be your fastest escape route to get back into your pajamas with that book you had started on your lunch break. As the rest of the friends broke off to a high-top nearest the pool table, Tommy’s hand fell to your back, his finger hooking around the loop of your jeans.

“I’ll get it, Y/N. You go sit, I know you’re tired from work today. The usual?”

Of course, the man knew what your predictable beverage of choice was, and he could always see the look of distant exhaustion behind your eyes if he searched them long enough.

“Same ol’, same ol’ for me, Conlon. Thank you.”

“Comin’ right up. Go take a seat, okay?”

He bent low to kiss you on the cheek, the hair falling into your face clung to his mesmeric lips, not wanting to let go. You didn’t blame them. You love the way his defining smell mixed when it hit your own. The candy sweetness somehow swirled into the perfect mishmash with his mysterious musk. Over his shoulder as he kissed just below your eye and swept your away from your face, Candace, your best friend in the world other than Tommy, was smiling with noticeable sarcasm.

Tommy sauntered towards the blonde tending bar, and you weaved your way to your chattering friends settling into an informal conversation. Of course, the empty seat was next to Candace and her prying, pushy, insinuating mouth.

“What’s with the smile, nosey?” You climbed into the stool, your wispy tank top shifting a bit low around the neckline.

“Oh, nothing at all. Don’t mind me. I’m just watching this re-run where two of my closest friends’ touch, and smile, and silently pine away for each other for the whole damn world to see. Other than themselves, of course.”

You elbowed her, catching the blunt of your nudge into her ribs under the table. No one else in attendance appeared to be registering much into your talk with Candace as they placed bets on a few rounds of pool. Not that the topic of you and Tommy wasn’t one of weekly reoccurrence. They all had their opinions, annoyingly all drawing the same conclusion that you and Tommy Conlon should just make-out and get it over with.

Not that you were against their plan of action. Truthfully, they were all entirely correct. Each and every one of them. But, there was no way you would ever, ever risk the dependable, comfortable bond you and Tommy shared. Things in life were always the opposite of easy for the pair of you, and the hardships only sewed you closer together. Tommy clearly only thought of you as his closest of friends. You were a comfort to him, as he was to you. A strong-tower on a shitty day, and a warm body to keep you company on the couch for The Office binge watch parties.

Before you could ultimately tear into Candace yet again, only managing to toss her a snide eyeroll, Tommy’s hand fell to your shoulder, the other serving your chilled beer.

“A beer for my best lady,” he snarled into your neck, the draft beer on his breath finding its way to your nostrils as the vibrations from his words excited your flesh.

Tommy took off his jacket, draping it messily over the back of your stool, and dragged over to a couple of the guys shooting a competitive game of pool.

Tommy could wash dishes wearing the most ruffled pink apron covered in fuzzy bunnies, and make it seem like tantalizing sex. But, something about watching him throw around a cue stick, his back stretching under his shirt as he leaned to knock in a game winning shot, made your insides squirm in the most welcomed of ways. For you, there was being turned on, and there was being turned on by Tommy Conlon.

Over the passing hours, he had checked in on the fullness of you drinks, escorted you and Candance towards the restroom because there was a crowd of unfamiliar out-of-towners in attendance that he didn’t trust, and simply just tended to you. As he always, always did.

Your beer count was adding up, and ultimately, you began to feel boneless towards the end of the night. Last call was fast approaching, and in tradition, the band of the night played it’s last three songs of their setlist, all slow numbers for those love connections who weren’t quite ready to leave hand in hand, but weren’t exactly ready to part ways, either.

One tune had passed, and the members of your posse found their way onto the sticky dancefloor, peanut shells cracking under all the swaying, unsteady feet.

“Dance? For old times sake. We owe it to the disaster that was fucking junior prom.” Tommy settled his empty mug on your table, his white t-shirt slightest bit damp from the sweat pooling around his neck.

“Hopefully, you’ve learned to avoid my toes by now, Conlon. Or else.” You threatened, using his offering hand to steady your feet onto the floor.

Being the clumsy queen you were, you stumbled a bit, Jell-O legs faltering beneath you, the alcohol clearly not improving your coordination. Tommy’s quick, fighter reflexes jumped to your rescue, his thick forearms caging your waist. The lethal concoction of his breaths falling into the slit of your exposed cleavage, and his furry eyelashes batting around liquor-heavy lids made even your hair sensitive to his closeness.

“Easy there, lightweight. I got ya’.” Tommy half-grinned, standing you up straight, but using his sturdy body to prop you against as he escorted you to the floor of dancing drunks.

The song seemed familiar, but either way it was hypnotizing. It reminded you of Tommy with its sleek rhythm, and raspy lyrics.

Your hands clawed and wound a knot into the back of his shirt, the bone of his broad shoulder blade crawling underneath his tan skinned as he massaged his hand over your back. His hard, rolling muscles made you begin to sweat all of your beer to the surface. You could barely register anyone in the room except for Tommy, but the pierces of eyes on the two of you in embrace kept you just aware of reality.

“Seems someone has gotten a little lighter on their feet since prom…” You toyed, resting your face on his rocky pec.

“The fighting has helped. And, the excellent partner doesn’t hurt, either.”

The beating cadence of Tommy’s heart amped into your ear as he fiddled with the tip ends of your hair.

“Y/N?”

You had gone silent briefly, a bit sleepy with drunkenness, but mostly entranced by just the feel of his dangerous, calloused fingers in your hair, however innocent the sentiment may have been.

“Sorry,” you yawned, gazing up at him. “The day, and my beers are suddenly catching up to me. Let’s finish this song before you take me home, though?”

Tommy simply pulled you back into him, continuing his spinning of circles with you in his arms. His hand once in your mane, had meandered down lower, now barely teasing under the hem of your shirt. Tommy played with the dimples in the small of your back, his palm sliding with ease due to the pearls of sweat on your bare skin.

“Everyone is lookin’ at us, ya’ know.”

“What’s new? They’re always staring at us, aren’t they?”

Tommy used one fingertip to angle your chin to his. “Whaddya’ say we give ‘em somethin’ to look at, Y/N?”

A paramedic would’ve rushed you straight to the hospital had they checked your pulse or temperature in that moment. A bomb of suspense exploded inside you as you searched Tommy’s peaceful, handsome face.

“And what might that be, exactly?”

“They’re always whispering about us, aren’t they? Which I can deal with… If its’ what you’re okay with. But, I would really like to finally give them a real reason to talk. What do you say we make all those rumors about us true, baby?”

His face was painfully close. So close you couldn’t breathe. You needed to run for air, or steal it from his warm mouth. You knew for certain which of your two options would satisfy you most.

“I thought you’d never ask, Conlon.”

Every tiny hair on your body raised in attention and anticipation, your knees threatening to crumble in opposite directions as Tommy sank to you. His nose nudged and grazed over the button tip of yours, just before his lips touched easy onto your mouth. The contact satisfied you in the most exquisite way, and you immediately recalled every kiss from your past, easily deciding they had all come up short. The union of your tongues was sensual, yet firm with eagerness. You could hear Tommy’s kitten like mewl when his lips were opened, moving around over the feverish ones on your face, and you thought it may very well have been the sound that dreams were made of.

Erotic, steamy, crude, pornographic dreams.

Both your hands fisted into Tommy’s silky hair, one palm kneading over the back of his craning neck. You wondered how long you had been molding into him, depriving your lungs of a deep breath, but you would not dare allow his kiss to leave you. Every nerve around your mouth was screaming from the heat, from the touch, from the wet silk of his tongue sucking the strawberry gloss from your mouth, and you knew that with this first embrace, Tommy’s taste would be your most merciless infatuation.

He was the first to break away, only to pepper tidier, gentler kisses across your flushed face. The intimacy of his eyelashes brushing across your cheeks and nose with his lackadaisical blinks caused you to seek immediate contact with the front of his low-slung blue jeans. The button of your light denim grinded into the zipper of his darker ones, and within the confines you felt him hard against you.

“How about when you walk me to my front door tonight, you don’t leave your car running in the driveway?” You muttered dimly and breathily into Tommy’s ear as he held you on the dance floor, the music long stopped.

TAGS: @eap1935 @torialeysha @mollybegger-blog @miidailyinspiration @littleluna98

#tommy conlon #tommy riordan #tommy conlon fanfic #tommy conlon x reader #tommy conlon imagine #tommyconlonfanfic #oneshot #Tom Hardy #tomhardy

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gooddadstan · 5 years

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Talon!Jason

Okay so I’ve gone on a massive Talon!Dick binge, and before that I was on a massive Talon!Tim binge because there was one author on Ao3 that had a universe that was really spooky and had Tim as a Talon. I absolutely adored it and can probably track them down again if anybody wants it.

But then I noticed that for all the Talon!Dick stuff, there’s not really any of Damian and Jason as Talons other than the stories where the entire family are Talons that I’ve seen a couple times. And while I’m not sure for Damian, there was actually an opportunity for Jason to be a Talon if you’re vouching on the whole time-ripple method of revival rather than the full-on Lazarus Pit revival in the UTRH movie. So this is my bullet point Talon!Jason AU + one intro paragraph that I couldn’t get out of my head:

To presume these monsters spent all their time in the dark was absurd. Mortal men they still remained, and thus they suffered man’s grievances all the same as those with lighter hearts and kinder souls. Grief is that which had brought these monsters standing in the last dregs of sunlight, mourning a loss they elected to keep from the grasp of their group’s necromantic assassin fixations. They had only barely turned to leave, still facing the mass of graves, when a scream broke their relished silence. A boy rising from a grave, battered and bruised in a way that sparked recognition in their minds. Perhaps they would be bringing something to the meeting despite their prior statements. The Court of Owls could always use another Talon, after all.

• Jason would still go through the whole shabang of his mom dying and his dad being in Blackgate (but not dead if RHATO has anything to say about it apparently), along with being Robin and then dying at the hands of the Joker in Ethiopia When he rises from the dead though instead of wandering as what’s basically a mindless zombie like he did in Lost Days, some Court members spot him breaking out and basically decide ‘hey, that kid looks like he could get pretty stabby, let’s make him a Talon’

• He gets the whole sciencey healing treatment that heals his body and maybe probably his mind unless you want some extra angst™ later on

• He also dies a bunch and is basically tortured a lot more as he gets trained to be a Talon, while everything he ever learned as Robin is being slowly beaten out of him and he’s forced to live a half-life knowing that he’s now been captured and tortured by an evil he knows and an evil he doesn’t, knowing that no matter what Bruce thinks he’s dead right now and won’t come for him (Jason never actually faced the Court because it only started existing in the 2011 Batman comic series, so he wouldn’t know them beyond what they tell him which wouldn’t be much) until his memory of Batman and the rest of his past is completely gone

• Eventually he’s beaten down into being their ‘perfect soldier’ efficient and silent in killing just as much as he would be with League training, and is sent on hits

• Maybe his first one would be Willis Todd in Blackgate penitentiary ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

• The amount of time that passes is really debatable in the end, but there’s no way that he’d be going out before Tim is already Robin, maybe even Damian if we’re pushing it

• But anyway, eventually he’d be sent on a hit for either Batman or Brucie Wayne, where going for Batman would be letting Bruce really see Jason in his Talon ‘glory’ and lots of angst/confusion from Bruce’s POV, and going for Brucie would open the potential for Jason to hesitate and be really confused why his training is wavering now, meaning angst/confusion from Jason’s POV, pick your poison

• Either way eventually Jason would be captured by the Bats

• Those that were there while he was Robin would remember him, and Tim would at least know of him, but Damian would be confused, and it’d be a whole feelingsfest of complete emotional incompetence + Dick Talon training would probably keep Jason from talking for a long while, but eventually Batman would either accidentally find the word that works as basically a dogtag for Jason (the talons having to respond to Orders given by those who say that word) with the added hurt of the fact that the rebellious boy is just gone or Batman could say something and Jason would respond on muscle memory only to question his Talon training and memories

• Either has the potential to be soul crushing from beginning to end, or soul crushing in the beginning and then getting that sweet sweet familial relationships booming in the end

In conclusion:

Do I have a lot of feelings on this? Yes

Am I ever going to shut up about this probably? No

Would I love it if people sent me thoughts about this or asked me to write little scenes for it since I physically cannot turn this into one cohesive fic? Abso-fuckin-lutely yes, please do

#Talon #Jason Todd #Batman #Talon!Jason #I got this idea and hyperfixed immediately #whoops

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youremypride · 6 years

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Prom Night

♫ Carmel is said to be the most romantic city to visit for lovers for a short vacation or honeymoon. Known for its natural scenery and beautiful sightseeing places, Carmel is truly a lovers’ paradise. Over the years, the number of visitors had increased, mostly couples, but not because of its beauty or enchanting little town. Every town has a story, and every story holds a belief, and if you had the chance to encounter it, will you pass on that opportunity? Maybe this would interest you. Perhaps you have heard about Carmel’s tale of the Lavender Lovers?

Pairing: AHS! Michael Langdon x Reader

Genre: romance, angst

Warnings: trigger warning for depression and suicide, underage drinking

Note: I needed a story in which Michael isn’t seen as an anti-christ and just a normal human being for once. I wrote this story based on Joji’s Slow Dancing in The Dark because it was so hauntingly beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. Also, it is influenced by Are You Afraid of The Dark’s tale of the Prom Queen in some ways. I had this overwhelming burst of sadness this weekend because of the song that when I watched the music video for it, I keep seeing him as Michael in a white suit, lol. I have to say, it’s not one of the best I’ve written and the story sounded better in my head than it is with words. I hope you all like it, feedback is welcomed, thank you :) Go listen to Joji now! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPMVR3gJBLY

Word Count: 5307 words

February 29, 1956.

It may seem like a typical day, but not for the seniors of Carmel High School. It was the most important night of their lives, one filled with great enjoyment and lasting memories they could reminisce on when they grow older.

Prom Night.

A significant event that happens once in every girl’s life. One day where they can show off their elegance and beauty while still in the early years of their prime. Battering up their faces with makeup, spotting a new hairdo in trend and not forgetting about the expensive prom dresses.

A turquoise 56’ Bel Air Chevy convertible drives up to the driveway and parked into place. A young man emerges out from the car, spotting a white suit with a black bow tie around his neck. His golden hair was slicked back with layers of gel to keep it looking fresh and perfect, with tiny strands of soft curls just ending by the tip of his cervical. In his hands, was a soft lavender corsage laying neatly in its box.

He starts walking up the pathway leading towards the front door. Once he reaches the porch, he takes in a deep breath and exhales it out, chanting positive words in his mind to boost up his confidence. Rapping his knuckles against the door, he straightens himself out for the last time.

He could hear footsteps coming from behind the door. A beautiful woman appears behind it, smiling at him, causing the corner of her eyes and mouth to form wrinkles. She welcomes him to come inside, greeting him with a loving hug and tells him to wait at the foyer before calling out the name of her daughter, his lover.

Standing at the top of the stairs, was a young woman. Dressed in a long sleeveless hemline sweep cut fairy dress with a sweetheart neckline. The dress was made from silk, satin, decorated with small soft pearls beaded along the neckline and a sheer layer of fabric to top it off from the waist down. The colour of the dress was a paler tone of lavender than the corsage he was holding.

She was simply breath taking.

The very sight of her made the young man’s heart tingled in excitement and his eyes twinkled in delight. He had the widest grin on his face, almost as to say, “I can’t believe she’s mine.”.

The woman gracefully took small steps as she begins descending the stairs, almost floating even. She had tugged the end of her dress higher to prevent her from falling. As she reaches the bottom, the man reaches out his hand as the woman slips her hand into his.

“You truly are an amazing beauty, Ms. L/N.” His compliment had caused the woman to blushed a rosy tint on her cheeks. After two years of courting, the littlest of compliment had never failed to make her feel so shy, causing the man to always tease her when he had the chance, much to the woman’s delight.

“And you look quite dashing yourself, Mr. Langdon.” He chuckled at her compliment making her laugh as well. He brings out his other hand from behind, showing the corsage that he had for her.

The moment she placed her eyes on it, her hand had fluttered to her chest, trying her best to calm herself. “My, my, Michael. That’s the most exquisite looking corsage I’ve ever seen. Where did you get this from?”

“I made this myself, actually. I wanted to make it more special. Lavender was the perfect colour to use, seeing as the flower is in full bloom now. Not only that, it holds so much meaning for a flower. It represents refinement, elegance and grace and they are often considered the most delicate and precious due to their sacred place in nature, just like you. A flower like you comes once in a lifetime.” As soon as those words escaped from his mouth, tears had started trickling down the woman’s cheeks.

The man hurriedly wipes the tears away with the softness of his thumb, careful not to smudge her make up. “Stop crying, you’re going to ruin your make up, baby.”

The woman playfully nudges the man’s arm. “Well, it’s your fault for being such a sweet talker.”

The woman’s mother had gone off to grab her camera to get pictures of this special day. “Alright, hurry up you two. Get closer to each other. Oh my god, you both look so adorable!”

The man takes the corsage out of the box before slipping it on the woman’s wrist. The woman admired its beauty before being nagged by her mother to snap out of her daze.

Few clicks here and there, and the pair of lovers are off.

Like the gentlemen he is, the man opens the passenger door for his partner, before going around the driver’s side and slipping into his seat. The car’s roof was open so they could see the dark night sky with the stars scattered across it. It was as if someone had poke holes through a black canvas, with light emitting through it. If one could hear how the stars sound like, it would sound utterly sad and heart breaking, constantly awaiting their time before bursting out the last of its energy and fading out to die.

“How about a little music along the way?”

“Sure.” The man turns on the radio, turning the knobs trying to find a good station before landing on one, a pleasant melody starts to play, almost letting your body to sway to the music.

“They’re playing The Five Satins! I love this song. It sounds so romantic yet so haunting beautiful, don’t you think?” The woman chirps.

“I couldn’t agree more.” The man starts his engine and drives down the road, one hand steering the wheel and the other, wrapped around the woman’s shoulders, cuddling her closer to him.

The drive to the hotel where the Prom was held didn’t took long, a good twenty minutes at least. By the time the pair had arrive, the function hall was already packed with the seniors of Carmel High. They spotted familiar faces of their friends, drinking away the punch as if it was beer while some of them had already been dancing on the dance floor with their partners.

One by one, all their friends soon left them to dance, leaving the pair by the table. The music coming from the speakers was booming super loud with fun, fresh and funky retro music to dance along to. It continued on until the DJ starts to play something new, a slow song, one that could easily be recognised by the woman.

Taking it was a cue, the man stands up and stands in front of his partner. “Care to dance, my lady?”

She took his hand as the man twirls her around. “I thought you never ask.”

When they approached the dance floor, the woman places her arms around the man’s neck while he places his on her waist. Slowly they begin to sway to the melody of the music, eyes only looking at each other and no one else. Gently, the man places his forehead to rest against the woman’s, giving her his signature smile, one that she had adored since they first started dating.

“I wish we didn’t have to slow dance in the dark. They could at least get better lightning in here other than that disco light they keep recycling over the years.” The woman chuckled, surprising the man.

“It’s better that way, so that you couldn’t see me blush every now and then.”

“Does our close proximity making you feel shy, baby? We’ve been dating for two years now. I’m surprised you’re not used to this by now. I find it cute. You’re so cute.” His teasing only reddened the cheeks of the woman, and she was silently thankful he couldn’t see her face at that moment.

They partied all night long and danced till their legs gave way. They had so much fun, they didn’t bother to check the time. And did I mentioned the pair even won Prom King and Prom Queen? Even the captain of the cheerleading team and her quarterback boyfriend felt frustrated and baffled they didn’t win the title, considering how popular they were. Angered, the cheerleader left the hall screaming bloody murder with her boyfriend trailing behind her.

Once Prom ended, it was time to leave.

“Let’s go home, Michael. You could stay over and we will binge watch on those horror movies they air late at night.”

“Sure, but before we do, I want to show you something.” The man suggested.

“Okay? This better not be one your schemes of terrifying me to death again.” The woman warned. She had too many encounters of her boyfriend pranking her so much she’s amazed she was still breathing and alive.

“No, no more jokes. I promise.” Bringing up his hand, he held out his pinky for the woman to laced her pinky around his. “Good.”

“Where are you taking me? This route leads to Blackteeth Forest. It’s getting dark and there’s no light there. Are you sure you know where you’re going? We’re going to be back home late.” Her voice told the man that she was afraid, glancing at her he could see she looked worried.

“I know but that’s not where we’re heading. Besides, the night’s still young. I really want to show you this place. I’ve been wanting to for so long and only tonight is the night I can show it to you.”

“What’s so special about this place?” The woman wondered.

“All your questions will be answer in due time, baby.”

After a few more minutes of driving, they had reached the location. The woman looked up ahead to see a bridge towering over a lake. Once they reached to the middle part of the bridge, the man parks his convertible to the side.

The woman steps out looking at the scenery in awe despite the gloomy night. The only source of light came from the pale moon, shining brightly down on them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The man’s voice came from behind her. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in closer as her back meets with his chest. He tucks his chin on her shoulder and rested his back on the side of the car.

“It is.” She turns her head to the side, faced with the man’s side profile. She smiles at him, leaning her head forward to give a kiss to his cheek. The man smiles in satisfaction, happy that he was able to make her smile. “I didn’t know this place existed and it looks so wonderful in the night time.”

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

“No, and I would like to have my questions answered now, please.” She pleads.

“Fine. This bridge here is called The Bridge of Mizpah. Mizpah in Hebrew means ‘watchtower’. It also means a deep emotional bond between people, especially those separated by distance or death. This bridge was built in 1919 to link the road from the city to the old St. Helena Cemetery right across.

They named the bridge Mizpah because people couldn’t reach the other side of the lake when they were heading for the cemetery. Before, they had to use canoes and boats to cross over. It got tedious to go back and forth so they decided to build a bridge over, almost as if a connection between the living and the dead.

After the 1930 rock avalanches, the government closed down this road because it was too dangerous since the road is close to the mountains. Now, everyone just uses the new road they built near Rottenhill Park. It’s faster to reach the cemetery and far away from danger.

The lake however, is another story. It looks calm and peaceful, in contrast to its name. Everyone just knows it as Lake Lacrimae but never the reason why. The name Lacrimae comes from Latin for ‘tears’. Before that, it was called, ‘Et Lacrimis Dolorem’. It is a mouthful, I know. It means the ‘tears of sorrow’.

The lake represents the tears the living had shed for the dead. The locals even said that it was Carmel’s version of The River Styx, but instead of hate, its sorrow. A lot of people didn’t dare to swim in this lake, too afraid the souls would drag them down and drown them.

Even if this place just seems utterly depressing, it holds the greatest sight of all. The Mångata. It is a Swedish word to describe the glimmering roadlike reflection the moon creates on the water. Although it’s not that fascinating to others, still, the sight of it just brings warmth to my heart. Only on February 29 will you get to experience this magical yet haunting moment.”

The man ends it off with a sigh, closing his eyes to enjoy the quiet moment of his surroundings.

“I never pegged you for being so mellow and sappy, Michael. You continue to surprise me every day, baby.” She chuckles, only to have the man tickle her sides as she begs him to stop.

“May I remind you who it was that had a crush on this mellow and sappy boy and asked him out on a date?” He stares her down, smirking at her now that she was face to face with him.

The woman crossed her arms, “Fine, you win. But at least I caught a cute one at it too.” She remarks cheekily. The man grabs both of her cheeks, pinching them both before placing a kiss on her pouty lips.

“Thank you. Shall we go now? It’s getting chilly.” The woman nodded.

Once they arrived at the woman’s driveway, she pulls her lover in for a long sweet kiss. “Thanks for today. I really had a great time.” She smiles, giving him another kiss.

The man caresses her side of the face, taking in her features for the last night. “Me too. Wash up and go to bed early, alright?” She rolled her eyes and bid him farewell. “Yes, hubby.”

Once he had heard those words, a grin appeared on his face. “I’ll be seeing you in my dreams, baby.” When he sees her entering her house, she looks back to smile at him and blows him a kiss. He catches it, using the hand and placing it on top of his heart. He waves her goodbye before driving off back to his home.

March 2, 1956.

Local teen found dead in her home on 28 Avalon Street on Thursday morning.

16-year-old Y/N L/N was murdered after being found unconscious in her bed with blood on her prom dress that she wore the day before.

She had been stabbed at least 18 times before succumbing to her wounds. Reports say the time of the incident took place between 11:30pm and 12:00am on February 29, after she was dropped off by her boyfriend after they returned from their Prom.

Her parents had come home late after visiting the hospital where Mrs. L/N’s brother is currently being warded for treatment. Mrs. L/N had found it suspicious when the back door of the house was opened ajar and her daughter, failing to respond to her after calling her out multiple times.

When she went to check on her daughter, she saw her lying in a pool of blood in her bed.

Police had identified the two suspects, Ms. Larnie Woodson and Mr. James McKinley, both students at Carmel High School, where L/N attended as well. Students who went to Prom on the night of February 29 had heard of Woodson’s plans to kill L/N after she was not crowned as Prom Queen.

Both suspects were arrested after police found evidence of the murder weapon in the hidden compartment of the boot of McKinley’s Porsche.

When asked for comments about the situation, Mr. and Mrs. L/N remained silent. Carmel High School student council had set up a remembrance altar at the school for L/N to honour and remember her as the sweet, loving and caring young woman.

The trial for Woodson and McKinley will be heard on Monday, March 5.

The woman’s lover had heard of the news. At first, he couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. Until the day of her funeral. The love of his live, in her coffin looking so lifeless and dull. Her once rosy cheeks were now colourless, and her skin was pale as ice. Her pink lips were now grey and cracked.

Yet, she managed to look like she was before, beautiful. She looked peaceful with her eyes closed. Almost as if she was just sleeping. A long and deep sleep. One she wouldn’t wake up from. As the coffin began to lower down into the hole, he looked at it for one last time before leaving the cemetery and drowning his sorrow with alcohol his father had kept in the fridge.

A month had passed and yet the man hadn’t moved on nor stop thinking about her. She was always on his mind, day and night. No one could ever move on, especially from a love so warm and endearing like theirs.

He needed that love, but was only left with the bitter coldness of the heartbreak and the dreadful guilt eating him away. He stopped going to school the week after her funeral. He gave his parents the reason everyone was trying to help him with the grief but it was only making it worse that it got depressing.

He didn’t like to go outside because there were too many places that reminded him of her. Too many memories that would only break him down and tear him apart. That uncomfortable feeling. He didn’t like that. He grew to hate it so much. He grew to hate her too.

She was haunting him until he couldn’t tell whether he was awake or dreaming. With every turn and every corner, she was there. Like a ghost, one minute she’s there, and another minute she’s gone. It only heightened his senses, putting him on constant alert, too afraid to run into her again.

It drove him mad, and completely insane till one day, he started hearing her call his name in his dreams.

Her voice sounded lonely as she calls out to him. Asking him to come see her because she misses him a lot and the place she was now was cold and dark. She tells him how much she loves him and wishes to be back with him. He did too, he longed for the day he could touch her again and be right by her side.

He kept apologising to her, telling her how much of a failure he is as a boyfriend and she would remind him how much love and happiness he had given her and how he should never look down on himself. She asked him to come visit her and he agreed to the following night.

Taking a last look in the mirror, the man straightens out his white suit and adjusting his bow tie, grabbing the bouquet of lavenders by his bedside before heading out of the front door.

When he bumped into his mother when she got back from her shift from work, she asked him why he was wearing his suit and going out at this late of hour.

He simply replied her he was going to see Y/N and that seeing her at night felt more intimate to be with the dead. He bids her goodbye and walks towards his convertible. As he turns on the radio, the familiar haunting tune starts to play, triggering back memories to the night of the Prom.

He drove his car to the place he had promised to meet her, the place where he knows she’ll be there, St. Helena Cemetery. Once he enters the black iron gates confining the dead from the outside, the air starts to grow chilly as the white fog thickens down the road.

As he reaches the block of her grave, he could see the back of a woman, dressed in the same prom dress as his lover did. When his headlights shone towards her, the woman turns around in his direction.

When she saw who it was, a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, delighted to see the love of her life as her heart leaped with joy. Seeing her smile made the man’s broken heart start to heal, just a little, at the sight of her waiting for him.

He turns off his engine, grabbing the flower bouquet and approaches the woman, still in awe to see her standing right in front of him.

“You came, I was beginning to think you stood me up.” She gazes into his eyes, and the man almost got lost looking at hers. He could even see is silhouette forming in them despite the dark surroundings.

He laughed, “You? Never.”

He gives her the bouquet he had been meaning to give her. She takes it from him, looking at it admiringly, caressing it with her fingers. She places the bouquet down in front of her tombstone.

The woman’s hands slowly crept up to rest on his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug, a needed hug that had been prolonged for far too long.

“I miss your hugs so much. Everything feels cold now. There’s no more warmth. You have no idea how much I needed this.” She tells him.

“Me too. I really miss you a lot, Y/N. I really need you right now. Everything feels right whenever you’re around.” He admitted. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.”

They stayed in each other’s embrace for a while before the woman broke the hug. She leans away, and places her hands on the sides of the man’s elbows. “You know, I always wanted to know what it feels like to slow dance in a cemetery. Care to dance, Mr. Langdon?”

“There’s no music. It’ll just be awkward to sway to no music.”

“Nonsense. But, I could help with that.” With a flick of her fingers, the radio of the car turns on. The same tune he had heard earlier on, lingering in the quiet of the night.

“You seem to enjoy that song a lot. It’s beginning to grow on me now.”

“Right? I know I picked a good song. I have good taste in music.” She stated boldly. “Whatever you say, my love.”

He shifts her arms to wrap around his neck and does the same with his, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer.

“I never thought I would be slow dancing in a cemetery with you.” He tells her.

“Me either. I thought you would have run away by now.” She chuckles.

She rests her head on the shoulder of the man, as he tucks her in the crook of his neck, placing his chin above her head.

Time seemed to have slowed down, and it felt as if they had been dancing for hours, circling and swaying to the song in an endless loop.

All of a sudden, faint bells chimed around them. The woman lets go of the man and looks down to the ground with a sad expression.

“I have to go now. My time’s up for the night. Thank you for seeing me, Michael. Goodbye.” She lets go of his hand, only for him to grip on it, as if she would fade away if he didn’t catch her in time.

“No, you can’t. You can’t leave me, not again. I can’t lose you anymore. I agreed to see you and now you’re leaving?! You can’t just leave me when you want to.” There was anger laced in his voice.

“It’s not like I have a choice. They allowed me to see you, but only for a short while. I can’t keep seeing you like this, not when we’re in different worlds now. I don’t belong in yours and you don’t belong in mine. There are boundaries that you should know, Michael.

We cannot be in each other’s life like we used to be. How long do you think this will last? It will only worsen your mentality and health, Michael. I can’t bear to see you like that. To hang on to me like this. It’s not right. I cannot be with you anymore.” The woman sounded heartbroken, of course she wanted to stay but she couldn’t. She knew if she continued on with this, the suffering will never end.

As much as it breaks her heart to say it to him, she knew it was the right thing to do. It would put him out of his grief and pain, letting him free from the burden that had been pulling him down. The man’s knees had given way, making him fall to the ground on his knees, the dirt rubbing against his white pants.

“Then, what can I do to make you take me back? I only want you here with me. I can’t function properly anymore. Everything doesn’t make sense. You know, its all your fault! If you didn’t keep popping up around me, calling my name, it would have been easier to move on from you. It’s your fault for making me like this. It’s your fault for being so selfish.” He snaps, anger flaring in his eyes as he looks at her as if she had betrayed him.

“Selfish?! You’re calling me selfish?! You’re the reason why I’m stuck like this! Why I can’t never seem to escape this place and cross over. It’s all because of you! You keep calling out my name when you sleep, constantly whimpering, begging me not to leave you, telling me to stay. I couldn’t cross over because of you. You are my unfinish business.

I only stayed because you didn’t let me go. You wouldn’t know how much I sacrificed for you. How I begged Him to let me comfort you. I let my presence be known to you so you know I didn’t leave you. This cannot go on forever, Michael. Sooner or later, you have to move on from me. So please, Michael. Let me go. Let me go, baby.” The woman kneels down so she was on the same level as the man.

“If I let you go, I’ll have no one. You are the person I see reflecting back at me in the mirror. You are the breeze that I feel whenever I need to forget about the world and let peace take over me. You are the pride that I hold on, knowing I had made you the happiest person in the world. You are the love that I needed the most and I’ll die without it.

You have no idea what it feels like knowing the love of your live had died before you, how difficult it was to go through all the emotions. Pain, grief, guilt, sorrow, remorse. So, imagine what it feels like to be in my shoes. I thought it would be bearable to seek the closure I need if I visit you. But it only proved me wrong.” He sobs, choking on his tears and letting them roll down his cheeks.

The man was engulfed in the woman’s embrace, her hands soothing his back as she kept apologising for leaving him too soon. She remembered the promise they had promised to each other. To grow old and die together, and it made her cry. Maybe it was no one’s fault. No one could have stopped the incident from happening nor did anyone saw it coming.

Maybe it was fate. Everyone has a limited time in the living before returning back to Him. Maybe it was Y/N’s time to go back to Him. Michael knows he couldn’t compete with him. No matter how much he begged her to stay, she can’t come back to him alive. He had to accept the fact. He had to let her go eventually.

He sighs before looking into her eyes, “Alright, I’ll do what you want me to, I’ll let you go. Asking you to stay would be selfish of me. But can you promise me this if I let you go? As much as it sounds selfish of me to ask of you?

The woman cups his face in her hands, “Of course, what is it baby?”

“Will you wait for me? So, we can be together again?” He pleaded to her, his voice almost sounding hopeful she would agree to him.

“I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes. I’ll be there to welcome you back in my arms. I promise, Michael.” The man felt his heart swell with ease and comfort. “Thank you, Y/N. We’ll meet again in the same world, one day.”

He watches her silhouette fade away into the darkness before walking back towards his car. With one last look at her tombstone, a sad smile appeared on his face before driving off to the living.

March 26, 1956.

The body of a 16-year-old was found in Lake Lacrimae in Carmel Sunday morning.

Michael Langdon was last seen by his mother on Friday night when he went to visit his girlfriend’s grave, Y/N L/N at St. Helena Cemetery that was murdered last February.

Langdon’s mother filed for a missing person report when he did not come home the next morning. The police had sent a search and rescue team to look for Langdon near the area of St. Helena and Blackteeth Forest.

After two hours of searching, police found that the railing of The Bridge of Mizpah, at the old road near St. Helena, had been destroyed.

It took them several hours to pull the car out of the river.

They recovered the car Langdon was driving, a 56’ Bel Air Chevy on the bottom of the lake, with Langdon still trapped in between the crushed car.

Officers believed he had committed suicide by driving his car off the bridge. Reports have said that Langdon was suffering from post-traumatic stress and depression after the loss of his girlfriend.

When midnight strikes on February 29, do not be afraid if you hear the sound of engine running through your street in the middle of the night.

Do not be frighten if you hear the haunting melody of The Five Saint’s Still of The Night playing throughout your neighbourhood.

If you are brave enough to look out the window, you could see a young couple in a 56’ Bel Air Chevy cruising down the road and if you look closer, you would recognise them to be Y/N L/N and Michael Langdon, smiling to each other with Michael’s arms around Y/N.

When you visit St. Helena Cemetery at night, do not run away if you see a pair of lovers slow dancing under the pale moonlight.

When you visit their graves, make sure you leave them lavenders, and lavenders only. It is the symbol of their love and wishes for you to respect that if you visit them.

If you wish to seek everlasting love with your beloved, leave an offering of a lavender flower and a corsage on their tombstones. Ask them for their blessings and they will grand you your wish, provided that you do not disturb their moment of intimacy.

So, you see why young lovers venture to Carmel. The tale of the Lavender Lovers will only remain a mystery if you don’t experience it yourselves. A love that was once filled with despair and tragedy now a love as old as time.

Taglist: @hxdesworld, @champagnejoker, @buckynatlarry , @morningstarkit, @bitchierrichie, @meeeeeeeeeps, @abblez-the-babblez, @snookabooforever, @frozenhuntress67

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lostcybertronian · 6 years

Note

27 & DarkWeb?

Bing is afraid of storms. He can’t survive rain, can’t survive a lightning strike. Not like the Googles can.

Tags: @caffeine-eater @authorsathenaeum @tiny-yan-an @darkstache-iplier @redraspberrycats @holyshitsnakesandspace @blue-greenstylinson @cookieface678

Prompt 27: “What? You afraid of thunder or something?”

It was pouring outside. Raindrops battered the windows, so loud they seemed to drown out everything else.

But it was only rain. Bing could handle rain. As long as he didn’t go out in it, he’d be fine.

Thunder and lightning, however, were completely different.

As soon as the first lightning strike lit the sky up white, he was diving for cover, mind racing with all the things that could happen.

Like if lightning struck the facility, causing a power surge. What if he was charging when that happened?

Someone like Google would survive that, with his high-tech equipment and parts. Someone like Bing wouldn’t.

Not to mention if he got struck by lightning directly.

That wouldn’t happen, though. Not as long as he didn’t go outside. That’s what he told himself, at least.

Still, the thoughts of lightning and the loud, booming thunder and power surges that would fry his circuits drove him away from his charging station, every single time.

They did even now, as the red low battery icon flickered at the edge of his vision. Even as his speech and movements began to slow and his vision began to fizz out, he didn’t dare so much as look at it. He couldn’t.

Every flash of white sent his gaze flying to the window. Every rumble of thunder brought with it hot sparks of fear.

He wasn’t sure when Dark showed up. Whether he was at 18% or 8%. He’d long ago stopped paying attention to anything but the fuzzy static in his head and the wild hammering of rain against the roof and the searing panic in his core.

“Bing?” Dark’s voice sounded distorted. “I need you to assist me with- oh my. Are you alright?”

There were cold hands on his shoulders then, shaking him. All Bing could manage in response was a groan that sounded like a dying toy.

“Ah,” Dark said, and he gripped Bing tightly, began to drag him toward his charging station, “low battery. Let’s get you hooked up, shall we?”

“NooOOoo …” Bing struggled, coming back to consciousness as fresh, pounding fear filled him. “PoWWWww-er sur-rge. Li-i-iGGGHH-ghhtning.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dark scoffed. “There hasn’t been a power surge. You’re fine.”

Another crack of thunder that seemed to shake the facility. Bing flinched.

A moment of silence. Then, “Bing? Are you afraid of storms?”

No. He wanted to say. No. I’m afraid of power surges that will fry me while I sleep. I’m afraid of my core exploding out of my chest.

But he couldn’t.

Dark gave a sigh. “Do you have any other way to charge?”

Slowly, Bing managed to shake his head. He had no other way to charge besides his charging station. The Googles all had mobile chargers, but they had never given him one.

Another sigh. Like this half-conversation was tedious. Like it was a waste of his time. Still, Dark didn’t leave.

Instead, he bent and, with a grunt, picked Bing up, cradling him against his chest. “Come along.”

That was the last thing Bing heard, because then his battery died and he passed out, his head lolling against Dark’s shoulder.

—

Bing came online in a strangely familiar bed. The first thing he noticed was that he was hooked to a charger.

And it was still raining. And thundering.

He moved to sit up, to unhook himself from the charger before something terrible happened, but then there was a hand grabbing his arm, pulling him back down.

There was also a face, mere centimeters away from his.

Dark squinted and frowned against the light cast by Bing’s orange pupils. His voice was low and half-asleep when he spoke. “I see you are awake.”

He shifted, propped himself up on one elbow against the pillows, cut Bing off right as he opened his mouth. “I was very disappointed in the Googles for not supplying you with a mobile charger. You have one now. Don’t lose it, because I won’t be getting you another one.”

A mobile charger. Small and efficient. Not like the clunky, stationary one he had. It wouldn’t surge. Wouldn’t kill him if he needed to charge during a storm.

Bing looked away. He couldn’t help but tear up.

A hand cupped his cheek, tilted his head, forcing him to make eye contact with Dark.

“You will not let your battery die again. Do you understand?” He asked slowly. “And you will come to me during storms.”

“Why do you care so much?” Maybe it was the fading echoes of fear in his systems that made him ask. Maybe it was because he actually felt safe here, in Dark’s bed. In his arms.

Maybe it was because the Googles had never cared. Nor had anyone else.

Something flickered in Dark’s eyes. Something that Bing couldn’t quite decipher.

The entity pressed ice-cold lips to Bing’s forehead. “Because you are mine. And I take care of what is mine.”

There was another flash of lightning, lighting up the bedroom. Another peal of thunder.

But this time, Bing didn’t flinch.

#dark web #darkiplier #bingiplier #googleiplier #bingdark #darkbing #markiplier egos #fanfiction #lostandwandering #my writing #lost writing tag #writing prompts #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #asks #lovely anon

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dreamingawaydolan · 6 years

Text

Brownie Neighbor {G.D}

Summary: Y/N isn’t the best baker what happens when she tries to make brownies for the new couple next door?

Authors Note: This actually happened to me today only I didn’t have Grayson as my boyfriend and I couldn’t even get my brownies out of the pan.

Request: Open

Y/N Pov:

“ Okay one cup of coco powder” I read soflty to myself bring my hand to my forehead to wipe away the access powder that somehow managed to get on my face. Cooking may be one of my talents but as for baking oh man let’s just say my kids will be bringing store bought cookies to their bake sale.

Me and Grayson recently got new neighbors and they seem like a nice couple so I’m trying to make a good impression on them by making them brownies I mean who doesn’t like brownies? Crazy people that’s who.

As I try and reach for the coco powder that’s on the top shelf thanks grayson for that, I hear the front door open followed by a burst of laughter. I see Gray and E come into the kitchen and their faces look like they’ve seen a ghost. “ Y/N we talked about this leave the baking to the bakers” Grayson laughs while kissing me lightly on the forehead getting a little flower on his lips. “ Well hello to you too” I smirk poking his belly he hates when I do that.

“ Oh man Y/N when gray said you weren’t a good baker I didn’t think you were this bad” Ethan laughed moving his hands to the mess that unfolded in front of him. I gave him a nasty look and stuck my tounge out at him being the mature adult I am. I sign and turn my attention to getting the coco powder without even saying anything Grayson grabs it with ease and hand is to me.

“ So what’s the special event for all this” Grayson stuck his finger in the batter and gagged before he even put it in his mouth this ass clown. “ Ahh grayson It’s not that bad you didn’t even try it plus I haven’t put in the coco powder yet” I look at Ethan and he’s just laughed at Graysons face

“ The new neighbors I wanna be one of those friendly brownie neighbors ya know” I smile while adding a little too much coco powder into the mix hey what’s wrong with a little extra coco? Nothing that’s what I thought.

“ But were not brownie neighbors were umm how do I put this crappy neighbors” Grayson says in the most forced nice tone ever. “ True but were going to change that babe just imagine we can go on double dates or oh oh my gosh we could have a game night!!” I excitedly scream while mixing the batter.

“ Ethan you can come to you can bring one of your hookups” I laugh “ One time” He screams while grayson just laughs not helping his brother out in anyway “ Oh shut up Grayson you’re going to be spending your free time being a 69 year old and playing bingo” Ethan snaps back and Graysons face goes straight “ Yeah that’s what I thought” Ethan sassy’s while leaning back in his chair

“ Whatever it will be fun” I put the brownies into the over and set a timer for 30 minutes these better turn out good my life goal is to be a brownie neighbor “ Yes it will be baby and im sure these brownies will be amazing” Grayson says before kissing me Ethan just groans and does a puking sound “ Oh shut up and go tell your hook up game nights is on” I smirk. I take of my apron and look at the mess I have created. Crap maybe being a brownie neighbor isn’t worth it this is a bigger mess than when the twins film on of their videos.

“ Alright well have fun cleaning up this mess boys imma take a nap bing a brownie neighbor is hard work” I head to mine and grays bedroom when I hear grayson start running after me “ I don’t think so” He laughs his voice booming through the apartment. I start to run but I couldn’t get very far. Ethan was on one side and Grayson was on the other crap I got nowhere to run I decide to just make a run for it and head to the door. I was about to open it before Grayson swooped me up in his arms and put me over his shoulder.

The twins start laughing while im trying to get out of Graysons grip let me tell ya this boy is stronger than I thought. “ HA you thought you could run from us better luck next time babe” Grayson laughs setting me down on the kitchen counter great now my black leggings are going to be covered in flower.

“ What I took the shot, also what yall did back there 2 against 1 not cool” We all start laughing. Once the laughter died down I asked them to help and they surprisingly kinda did although while the dishes were being washed there was a bubble fight.

We all settled down and starting watching some random movie while talking about what the twins next video will be. I hear the timer go off and I run to the oven and open it and to my surprise they don’t look to be “ Oh my god were totally brownie neighbors!!!” I yell while jumping up and down the twins come over and their faces were just as surprises “ Wow Y/N you did this?” Ethan asked trying to pick up the pan burning himself.

“ Dumbass” Grayson laughed at his dumb brother. I put on my oven mitt and take out the pan and cut three pieces of brownies for the three of us. “ Wow babe I knew you could do it” Gray smirks and wink at me making me blush I don’t know why we’ve been together for almost 2 years and he still has this effect on me.

We all take a bite at the same time and saltyness fills my mouth and my face cringes up. Let me say the look is a lot better than the inside kinda like a fuc boy. We spit it out onto the counter. Ethan being a drama queen goes over to the sink and washes his mouth out. “ I think you put a little to much salt in” Grayson says gagging again. “ Yeah I noticed” I wipe my tounge with a paper towel trying to get rid of the nasty taste.

“ How about we live being the brownie neighbor to someone else” Grayson says I just shake my head and throw away the brownies.

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan imagines #grayson and ethan #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fan fiction #grayson dolan imagine #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #grayson dolan blurb #ethan dolan blurb

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ptsfreed · 3 years

Text

Starting over

TW: mental abuse, physical abuse, narcissistic abuse, gaslighting

For years, I’ve kept a journal or blog. I started when I was 5 when my mom bought me my first journal (it even had a lock and key). As I got older, I transitioned to blogs. I tried them all, Xanga, Tumblr, Blogspot. Writing has always been cathartic for me, a way to process and heal. I had gradually fallen out of the habit but I know that it’s time to start up again. Last week, I actually made a booming return to paper/pencil journaling, but let’s get real--my hand hurts. Typing is just so much faster. Blogging it is.

I suppose I should start out with outlining my goals for what I’m planning to achieve with my return to writing. I want to give myself the opportunity to slow down, process my emotions and experiences, and heal. I like having the ability to have something physical to look back on, sort of like a barometer for intangible growth. It’s hard to measure social-emotional learning otherwise.

Here’s what I’m currently dealing with. I’m 31, married, with two children. I’m a full-time work-from-home-parent. I am a moderate/severe special ed teacher for a virtual charter school. My husband also works from home full-time in the entertainment industry, so it’s just us versus the kids all day. My little ones are 3 and the other is just shy of one. My husband and I became first-time homeowners right in the midst of the pandemic. Then he was laid off. For seven months. We’re both educated with experience in our field. Overnight, we went from a six-figure household to becoming eligible for food stamps. This year, I marveled at how easily a job loss in a two-income household could turn that very same household eligible for welfare.

Depression ran high. The booze flowed. My PTSD symptoms went untreated as available therapy appointments became more scarce with the entire world enduring a collective trauma together. I watched my strong husband crumble. I saw him cry and doubt himself for the first time ever. I watched as a dark cloud seemed to envelop our household, ridden with fear for the future, uncertainty for the present. We became expert budgeters. We ate all the leftovers. We helped each other to thrive with the most limited social interaction in our lives. With the welcoming of our son, we compromised our social-distancing for family’s sake, with the promise that everyone in our pod would commit to limiting our social diets to strictly one-another. It was hard...we love our families, but we dearly missed our friends. Living two hours away from family in the first place, our local friends quickly became family. But we adjusted. Loneliness was preferable to falling ill to Covid--or worse, dying.

At some point during the pandemic, my mom moved in with us after leaving her abusive 30-year relationship with my father. Except, she never really left. She maintained contact with him. I knew it would be difficult for her. I expected the separation to be hard, painful, and drawn-out. What I didn’t expect was how severely living with my mom again after seven years would impact my mental health. I could feel my anxiety levels rising. My resentment steadily followed. I didn’t want things to feel this way. I was battling toddlerhood with a strong-willed, fiery, emotional kid with a penchant for hitting and also adjusting to life as a full-time working mom of two. I felt the emotional toll of being there for everyone, compassion fatigue, though I hated to say it. I felt like as a doting mother, good wife, caring teacher, and compassionate daughter I needed to do it. But the toll it was taking on my body and mental health was unmistakable. I cried, sometimes for no reason at all. I snapped, I felt angry at small things. My house looked like a tornado ran through it at all times. Finding motivation to do things was like pulling teeth. I gained weight, I hit the bottle almost nightly, though I typically limited myself to two drinks. I told myself I deserved it. Lots of people share a bottle every night with their significant other. It’s not like it was impacting my ability to perform my job or care for my children. Deep down, I still didn’t like it. It felt like the only way to escape from the hell of quarantine and being broke. I just wanted to see people. Spend without immediately regretting it. Yet here we were.

The year has been a challenge. Ridden with strong toddler emotions and learning to navigate parenthood while actively trying to break the cycle of spanking and yelling to discipline. I don’t always succeed and I hate myself each time I snap. I run to my daughter, apologize and tell her that I was feeling overwhelmed, but that wasn’t okay. It’s never okay to spank a bottom or yell because you want compliance. If I can’t always be the perfect parent, then I can at least be one that is apologetic and not too proud to say sorry. I want to teach accountability and remorse for one’s own actions. At the very least, I can instill that. That’s the silver lining of losing your cool, I guess. But with these apologies and accepting accountability, it’s important that I also couple these sentiments with change. It’s important that I do this in all aspects of my life, which is what I hope to achieve with writing. I need to hold myself accountable and be able to look back at change. I can do this. I have done so much. I have survived the pandemic. I have created a family. I have finished a bachelor’s and a master’s degree with little financial support. I have paid my way out of debts. I can do this.

1. First and foremost, the reason I started writing again in the first place, I am done with binge drinking. I feel pangs of doubt as I write this, afraid of my own capacity for caving to cravings and peer pressure. As I experience those pangs, I can hear a silent voice in the back of my head telling me to push forward and cast that doubt aside. I know I can do this. Enough is enough. My relationship with alcohol has never been healthy. I began my drinking career in college surrounded by friends that made me feel home. Drinking was fun, cool, part of the experience. Pre-gaming was encourage and expected. If pre-gaming meant you got drunk before the party, then the goal of the party was to get even more smashed. I carried these habits into adulthood and still carry them with me today. My last binge was Sunday and I’m not going to torment myself by recanting how bad it was yet again. My goal isn’t to stop drinking entirely, just to have a healthier relationship with alcohol altogether. Binging isn’t healthy. The person I become when I drink isn’t healthy. I can control this. I can do this.

2. I want to continue my journey into healthier eating and fitness habits. As of today, this is the longest time I’ve ever seriously stuck with a weight loss goal. I’ve lost 6 pounds since I began with mostly just-dieting. The fitness part has been difficult to make time for, but I’m working on it. I know that this goal is closely tied to goal #1. If I can get in control of my diet, I can get in control of my drinking. I am in charge. I can take ownership of my health. I can do this.

3. I want to continue learning about my PTSD, my symptoms and how they have and continue to impact my life. I want to continue learning about establishing healthy boundaries with people I love, my mom included, unfortunately. I want to continue learning about narcissistic abuse, substance abuse, and how these factors have contributed to who I am as well as my entire family dynamic. Growing up hispanic, it has been incredibly difficult to establish boundaries without being labeled as “too good”, “hateful” and “too angry”. I have been told countless times by my own mother that I’m too angry and upset at my father who physically and mentally abused me and my entire family for as long as I can remember. My dad has cheated on my mom and rejected me for over two decades. I am sick and tired of being told to forgive my abuser because my boundaries make others feel uncomfortable. What has been especially hard after actively working on myself for 3+ years is having my own family tell me that perhaps therapy isn’t suiting me because it’s made me “too angry” and that I’ve “lost my lust for life”. They want to assume that my general sense of frustration is attributed to not talking to my dad, when in reality, freeing myself from that relationship has afforded me more peace than I ever could have fathomed. Sure, there are difficult moments, but every time I think that maybe that relationship may be worth pursuing again, I am reminded of why I have established such rock-solid boundaries in the first place. According to others though, this makes me too hateful. Too angry. “You’ve punished him enough”, they say. As if this was ever about punishment and not about protecting myself and my children from narcissistic abuse in the first place. They say this and accuse this anger of pouring into other aspects of my life, without ever once asking what’s really going on inside. Not once has anybody asked how parenthood is going. How I’m coping with the pandemic and the renewed sense of cautious freedom now that I am fully vaccinated and my husband is halfway vaccinated. Not once has anybody thought to consider that maybe I’m not super woman, that I’m just human and that I too have moments of vulnerability that I irresponsibly cope with by binge drinking. Instead, everybody says that the best course of action is to essentially “get over” my resentment and symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder brought on by the decades-long abuse I suffered at the hands of my own father. The same hands that banged my head against a wall, beat me within an inch of my life, and then sent me to work at a cosmetics counter without a stitch of makeup and completely battered and bruised. According to the armchair therapists in my life, it’s my job to let go of these feelings and now trust this same meth-addicted man with my children. I need to trust in his capacity for change and honesty after 20+ years of lying and gaslighting. I don’t want my boundaries to cost me the most important relationships in my life. But at this point, I can’t do it anymore. I am exhausted with explaining myself, for demanding respect and begging to have my story heard and considered. My mom will continue to choose my dad over me. She feels compelled to be his friend and the peacekeeper, still, even after attending therapy and working on herself. I know that my dad is at the center of this, stirring the pot and causing a rift in my relationship with my mother because having me out of the picture will bring the two of them closer. “See, she turned her back on you too”, I can hear him saying. This is the loneliest I have ever felt in my life. I have been told that by my parents my entire life that I am essentially dispensable. “I don’t fucking need you”, my dad would say. My mom would “intervene” by asking me what I did to make him so upset, and perhaps I should just “find somewhere else to live” if this was how I was going to act. I hate feeling this way. It hasn’t gotten easier as a 31 year old woman, but I can say that I am now able to see the situation much more objectively and with clarity. This is why it’s important to keep attending therapy, working on my drinking, practicing mindfulness, and living my life with intention. Wellness really does come full circle. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

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