#queue much information?

[kingofdirtandnothing]

polyfacetious asked: “i know how to open these bones with just my teeth.”

Poetry Starters: (Accepting)

“Son, I can’t tell if you’re hitting on me or threatening me.”

But no one ever said Leonard McCoy was a smart man. He was in the employ of a murderer, medicating a shizophrenic. How much worse could a pretty blonde with the devil’s eyes really make his life?

Well...there was only one way to find out.

Leonard nudges the stool out next to him in quiet invitation.

[chatoyerdemoniste]

@likeprotege from ( x )

There was a time that Magnus would have helpfully pointed out to whatever governing body that this was, that he wasn’t a trained healer. He would have given them Catarina’s number after waffling a bit at the price they were offering him. 

But he was older now, and maybe even a little bit wiser. And more than that, this is Eggsy, and he needs to be cared for more than almost anyone Magnus knows. 

He’ll gladly take a payday if it means looking after this darling boy. 

“Of course dearest.” A snap of his fingers and there’s a crystal cut glass of ice water sweating in his palm, complete with a ridiculous curly straw. Magnus summons a chair and makes himself comfortable beside the couch, brushing the strands of soft hair away from a clammy forehead. 

“And how are you feeling, my little eggs benedict?”

[kingofdirtandnothing]

polyfacetious asked: it’s nothing. it’s just a bruise.

Aaaaaangst!: (Accepting)

But she knows Jack, and knows that won’t be enough for him. And Rose had been a fool to think that curling her hair down over her cheek would hide the bruise blossoming on the skin.  

She had worked the streets of Tortuga for years now, years before she knew the name given to her at birth was a name for another soul. Before the girls took her in and taught her how to curl her lashes and paint her lips. 

The men were crueler then, when she was only a boy. 

But she’d worked her way up. Through shrewd negotiation and skilled hands (and mouth, and other bits) until she had her own little room at the corner of the tavern, where when the night was over and the men were gone, she could open up the shutters and listen to the sounds of the sea washing up against the shore. 

Rose’s fee was so exorbitant that she’d gained the nickname of a “captain’s whore”. Only they could afford her. But that wasn’t entirely true. She had a few old favorites, like sweet Atticus who would read from his book of animals to her while the sweat cooled on their skin. And she’d even seen to the blacksmith a time or two. 

Her favorite, of course, was the man who’d laid her down on newly washed sheets and brushed the hair from her face to kiss her before he fucked her. Jack was a romantic like that. 

And she’s almost certain he’s the one who started the rumors about her fees being so high that most of the deck scrubbers and errand boys didn’t even bother to talk to her in the tavern. 

If love was a real thing, Rose would have thought she loved Captain Sparrow. But the world wasn’t fairy tales and sweet Spanish songs. And even if she did find light in her heart, she knew Jack’s belonged to the sea. 

(And the long, lingering looks at the blacksmith Anthony, any time he came through the port. But Rose was a kind girl, she didn’t bring up the things that would make shadows come to Jack’s eyes.)

“It’s nothing. He’s already sailed. No reason to worry your head about it, pretty Sparrow.”

She brushes a thumb against his cheekbone, down along the stubbled line of his jaw. 

“All that matters now is that I make the most of the time I have with you, Captain.” 

A kiss would be just the thing to spin his rudders, and get the winds in his sails, just like she wanted.

[kingofdirtandnothing]

normaltothemax asked: “i want to be someone who isn’t a burden. ”

Poetry Starters: (Accepting)

“You’re not a burden.” But God, does Tony ever know that feeling. And he knows how easy it is to get lost in it. He reaches out, smacking the back of her hand lightly with his own. 

“We don’t define people by single traits around here. It’s unscientific. So you stick around and we’ll get a full, data rich picture of how great you really are.”

[kingofdirtandnothing]

fxrgxr asked: 💭 [for arthur]

Thoughts Meme: (Accepting) 

“I still dream about it. About your voice, your hands. I thought I was finally going to be free, but that’s just another lie Cobb told.”

[kingofdirtandnothing]

“C’mon.” A beat. “You got this.”

He still doesn’t know why the hell they put him in charge of anybody. Mike’s been sober just inside of a year, he’s still carrying a chip that’s months out of date because he hasn’t made it to twelve yet. 

And they dropped Gabe on his doorstep like a fucking baby in a basket, and now it was up to Mike to help him fight his demons, and keep himself out of trouble. 

(It’d be easier, if Gabe was a prick. If he didn’t have eyes like a wounded pit bull. Nothing is ever easy in Mike’s life.)

He leans over without thinking about it, fingers curling against the side of Gabe’s head so that he can press his lips against his hood where it’s draped over his temple.

“This can’t beat you. You’re too fuckin’ strong for that, man.”

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@whcwashe

“So like...is it all cats? Is it just the cartoon ones?”

He’s not judging. Far from it. Dean is standing in a thrift store in Indiana, eyeing a big, bejeweled plaster cat and trying to decide if it’s something she’ll like. 

[kingofdirtandnothing]

pleadingoneword asked: Amortentia

Amortentia Meme: (Accepting)

“You think I’d say lightning, right? That’s amateur hour. He smells like the soap we keep at the compound.”