betty !

His company consists of a salt aroma warding off past gunpowder residue, seagulls discovering refuge after soaring past the window he longingly gazes out of, and a reminiscent tale citizens on the mainland whispered about when the waves clamoured loudly.

You’re supposably a myth birthed from Poseidon’s wrath, summoned to ensure collisions of tidal waves wreak havoc against soul-filled boats.

They warned him of you, but they must have used the wrong line, for your presence settles the rampant ache in his chest.

You’re an eidolic, mimicking his once hollow self. You drift where the world allows you, and as his dog tags, lying lazily on the desk, jingle peacefully against the faint, whirring rhythm of the lighthouse’s ticker, your otherworldly nature gracefully appears.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” The corner of Bucky’s lips curl upwards as he watches your fingers delicately brush against the metal, “Saves you creepin’ up on me.”

“You’re used to me creeping up on you.”

“I am,” he muses, “But a calling would be nice. It’d at least let me fix myself up first.”

A ghostly smile flickers on your mouth. His charming spirit is unbreakable. Not even the ocean could drown it, no matter how many times he’s been knocked down.

Your souls may be barricaded from heaven, but not from this lighthouse. Here, when storms arise and the beacon shines, creatures both above and below the surface yearn for the contentment shared between a lighthouse keeper and a ghost.

His company consists of a salt aroma warding off past gunpowder residue, seagulls discovering refuge after soaring past the window he longingly gazes out of, and a reminiscent tale citizens on the mainland whispered about when the waves clamoured loudly.

You’re supposably a myth birthed from Poseidon’s wrath, summoned to ensure collisions of tidal waves wreak havoc against soul-filled boats.

They warned him of you, but they must have used the wrong line, for your presence settles the rampant ache in his chest.

You’re an eidolic, mimicking his once hollow self. You drift where the world allows you, and as his dog tags, lying lazily on the desk, jingle peacefully against the faint, whirring rhythm of the lighthouse’s ticker, your otherworldly nature gracefully appears.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” The corner of Bucky’s lips curl upwards as he watches your fingers delicately brush against the metal, “Saves you creepin’ up on me.”

“You’re used to me creeping up on you.”

“I am,” he muses, “But a calling would be nice. It’d at least let me fix myself up first.”

A ghostly smile flickers on your mouth. His charming spirit is unbreakable. Not even the ocean could drown it, no matter how many times he’s been knocked down.

Your souls may be barricaded from heaven, but not from this lighthouse. Here, when storms arise and the beacon shines, creatures both above and below the surface yearn for the contentment shared between a lighthouse keeper and a ghost.

His company consists of a salt aroma warding off past gunpowder residue, seagulls discovering refuge after soaring past the window he longingly gazes out of, and a reminiscent tale citizens on the mainland whispered about when the waves clamoured loudly.

You’re supposably a myth birthed from Poseidon’s wrath, summoned to ensure collisions of tidal waves wreak havoc against soul-filled boats.

They warned him of you, but they must have used the wrong line, for your presence settles the rampant ache in his chest.

You’re an eidolic, mimicking his once hollow self. You drift where the world allows you, and as his dog tags, lying lazily on the desk, jingle peacefully against the faint, whirring rhythm of the lighthouse’s ticker, your otherworldly nature gracefully appears.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” The corner of Bucky’s lips curl upwards as he watches your fingers delicately brush against the metal, “Saves you creepin’ up on me.”

“You’re used to me creeping up on you.”

“I am,” he muses, “But a calling would be nice. It’d at least let me fix myself up first.”

A ghostly smile flickers on your mouth. His charming spirit is unbreakable. Not even the ocean could drown it, no matter how many times he’s been knocked down.

Your souls may be barricaded from heaven, but not from this lighthouse. Here, when storms arise and the beacon shines, creatures both above and below the surface yearn for the contentment shared between a lighthouse keeper and a ghost.

His company consists of a salt aroma warding off past gunpowder residue, seagulls discovering refuge after soaring past the window he longingly gazes out of, and a reminiscent tale citizens on the mainland whispered about when the waves clamoured loudly.

You’re supposably a myth birthed from Poseidon’s wrath, summoned to ensure collisions of tidal waves wreak havoc against soul-filled boats.

They warned him of you, but they must have used the wrong line, for your presence settles the rampant ache in his chest.

You’re an eidolic, mimicking his once hollow self. You drift where the world allows you, and as his dog tags, lying lazily on the desk, jingle peacefully against the faint, whirring rhythm of the lighthouse’s ticker, your otherworldly nature gracefully appears.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” The corner of Bucky’s lips curl upwards as he watches your fingers delicately brush against the metal, “Saves you creepin’ up on me.”

“You’re used to me creeping up on you.”

“I am,” he muses, “But a calling would be nice. It’d at least let me fix myself up first.”

A ghostly smile flickers on your mouth. His charming spirit is unbreakable. Not even the ocean could drown it, no matter how many times he’s been knocked down.

Your souls may be barricaded from heaven, but not from this lighthouse. Here, when storms arise and the beacon shines, creatures both above and below the surface yearn for the contentment shared between a lighthouse keeper and a ghost.

His company consists of a salt aroma warding off past gunpowder residue, seagulls discovering refuge after soaring past the window he longingly gazes out of, and a reminiscent tale citizens on the mainland whispered about when the waves clamoured loudly.

You’re supposably a myth birthed from Poseidon’s wrath, summoned to ensure collisions of tidal waves wreak havoc against soul-filled boats.

They warned him of you, but they must have used the wrong line, for your presence settles the rampant ache in his chest.

You’re an eidolic, mimicking his once hollow self. You drift where the world allows you, and as his dog tags, lying lazily on the desk, jingle peacefully against the faint, whirring rhythm of the lighthouse’s ticker, your otherworldly nature gracefully appears.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” The corner of Bucky’s lips curl upwards as he watches your fingers delicately brush against the metal, “Saves you creepin’ up on me.”

“You’re used to me creeping up on you.”

“I am,” he muses, “But a calling would be nice. It’d at least let me fix myself up first.”

A ghostly smile flickers on your mouth. His charming spirit is unbreakable. Not even the ocean could drown it, no matter how many times he’s been knocked down.

Your souls may be barricaded from heaven, but not from this lighthouse. Here, when storms arise and the beacon shines, creatures both above and below the surface yearn for the contentment shared between a lighthouse keeper and a ghost.

His company consists of a salt aroma warding off past gunpowder residue, seagulls discovering refuge after soaring past the window he longingly gazes out of, and a reminiscent tale citizens on the mainland whispered about when the waves clamoured loudly.

You’re supposably a myth birthed from Poseidon’s wrath, summoned to ensure collisions of tidal waves wreak havoc against soul-filled boats.

They warned him of you, but they must have used the wrong line, for your presence settles the rampant ache in his chest.

You’re an eidolic, mimicking his once hollow self. You drift where the world allows you, and as his dog tags, lying lazily on the desk, jingle peacefully against the faint, whirring rhythm of the lighthouse’s ticker, your otherworldly nature gracefully appears.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” The corner of Bucky’s lips curl upwards as he watches your fingers delicately brush against the metal, “Saves you creepin’ up on me.”

“You’re used to me creeping up on you.”

“I am,” he muses, “But a calling would be nice. It’d at least let me fix myself up first.”

A ghostly smile flickers on your mouth. His charming spirit is unbreakable. Not even the ocean could drown it, no matter how many times he’s been knocked down.

Your souls may be barricaded from heaven, but not from this lighthouse. Here, when storms arise and the beacon shines, creatures both above and below the surface yearn for the contentment shared between a lighthouse keeper and a ghost.

His company consists of a salt aroma warding off past gunpowder residue, seagulls discovering refuge after soaring past the window he longingly gazes out of, and a reminiscent tale citizens on the mainland whispered about when the waves clamoured loudly.

You’re supposably a myth birthed from Poseidon’s wrath, summoned to ensure collisions of tidal waves wreak havoc against soul-filled boats.

They warned him of you, but they must have used the wrong line, for your presence settles the rampant ache in his chest.

You’re an eidolic, mimicking his once hollow self. You drift where the world allows you, and as his dog tags, lying lazily on the desk, jingle peacefully against the faint, whirring rhythm of the lighthouse’s ticker, your otherworldly nature gracefully appears.

“You can keep them, if you’d like,” The corner of Bucky’s lips curl upwards as he watches your fingers delicately brush against the metal, “Saves you creepin’ up on me.”

“You’re used to me creeping up on you.”

“I am,” he muses, “But a calling would be nice. It’d at least let me fix myself up first.”

A ghostly smile flickers on your mouth. His charming spirit is unbreakable. Not even the ocean could drown it, no matter how many times he’s been knocked down.

Your souls may be barricaded from heaven, but not from this lighthouse. Here, when storms arise and the beacon shines, creatures both above and below the surface yearn for the contentment shared between a lighthouse keeper and a ghost.

Wayne Enterprises is one of them.

Poised on the highest floor by the tall windows, your eyes roam the vastness of the sky. There’s no celestial in sight, for Gotham doesn’t deserve its etherealness.

It’s the worst kind of punishment… being wrapped in shadows each night.

Fortunately, loneliness is a notion you can’t remember, as strong arms you’ve memorised encircle your waist. Bruce’s cologne flows into your senses, coaxing you into relaxing against his chest.

Your relationship is still fresh. The darkness of Gotham could intrude the gleam it brings. For now, you both agreed to keep it on the low, out of papers and press especially. Yet, in quiet moments like this, you allow yourselves to bask in the glow unreachable anywhere else.

“What are you still doing here, darling?” Bruce asks, his voice quietly piercing the silent board room. He ducks his face down, grazing his nose against your shoulder before planting a tender kiss there.

“You don’t see stars here,” you absentmindedly say, “They’re just city lights.”

His lips travel up your neck, his devotion for you apparent in each slow, thorough kiss. Reaching his destination, he murmurs by your ear, “I must admit, I may have something to do with that.”

You tilt your chin up, catching the affectionate glint in his usually brooding eyes, “I stole the brightest star,” he whispers, “And I’m never letting her go.”

A rush of bliss, swifter than any shooting star, encases you, and a smile so great spreads across your mouth. He’d have kissed it off by now if he weren’t mesmerised by it.

“I’ll take you somewhere the stars can worship you, just as I do.”

Your eyes flutter shut, drifting to a heavenly haze nothing outside these walls can touch.

Wayne Enterprises is one of them.

Poised on the highest floor by the tall windows, your eyes roam the vastness of the sky. There’s no celestial in sight, for Gotham doesn’t deserve its etherealness.

It’s the worst kind of punishment… being wrapped in shadows each night.

Fortunately, loneliness is a notion you can’t remember, as strong arms you’ve memorised encircle your waist. Bruce’s cologne flows into your senses, coaxing you into relaxing against his chest.

Your relationship is still fresh. The darkness of Gotham could intrude the gleam it brings. For now, you both agreed to keep it on the low, out of papers and press especially. Yet, in quiet moments like this, you allow yourselves to bask in the glow unreachable anywhere else.

“What are you still doing here, darling?” Bruce asks, his voice quietly piercing the silent board room. He ducks his face down, grazing his nose against your shoulder before planting a tender kiss there.

“You don’t see stars here,” you absentmindedly say, “They’re just city lights.”

His lips travel up your neck, his devotion for you apparent in each slow, thorough kiss. Reaching his destination, he murmurs by your ear, “I must admit, I may have something to do with that.”

You tilt your chin up, catching the affectionate glint in his usually brooding eyes, “I stole the brightest star,” he whispers, “And I’m never letting her go.”

A rush of bliss, swifter than any shooting star, encases you, and a smile so great spreads across your mouth. He’d have kissed it off by now if he weren’t mesmerised by it.

“I’ll take you somewhere the stars can worship you, just as I do.”

Your eyes flutter shut, drifting to a heavenly haze nothing outside these walls can touch.

Wayne Enterprises is one of them.

Poised on the highest floor by the tall windows, your eyes roam the vastness of the sky. There’s no celestial in sight, for Gotham doesn’t deserve its etherealness.

It’s the worst kind of punishment… being wrapped in shadows each night.

Fortunately, loneliness is a notion you can’t remember, as strong arms you’ve memorised encircle your waist. Bruce’s cologne flows into your senses, coaxing you into relaxing against his chest.

Your relationship is still fresh. The darkness of Gotham could intrude the gleam it brings. For now, you both agreed to keep it on the low, out of papers and press especially. Yet, in quiet moments like this, you allow yourselves to bask in the glow unreachable anywhere else.

“What are you still doing here, darling?” Bruce asks, his voice quietly piercing the silent board room. He ducks his face down, grazing his nose against your shoulder before planting a tender kiss there.

“You don’t see stars here,” you absentmindedly say, “They’re just city lights.”

His lips travel up your neck, his devotion for you apparent in each slow, thorough kiss. Reaching his destination, he murmurs by your ear, “I must admit, I may have something to do with that.”

You tilt your chin up, catching the affectionate glint in his usually brooding eyes, “I stole the brightest star,” he whispers, “And I’m never letting her go.”

A rush of bliss, swifter than any shooting star, encases you, and a smile so great spreads across your mouth. He’d have kissed it off by now if he weren’t mesmerised by it.

“I’ll take you somewhere the stars can worship you, just as I do.”

Your eyes flutter shut, drifting to a heavenly haze nothing outside these walls can touch.

Wayne Enterprises is one of them.

Poised on the highest floor by the tall windows, your eyes roam the vastness of the sky. There’s no celestial in sight, for Gotham doesn’t deserve its etherealness.

It’s the worst kind of punishment… being wrapped in shadows each night.

Fortunately, loneliness is a notion you can’t remember, as strong arms you’ve memorised encircle your waist. Bruce’s cologne flows into your senses, coaxing you into relaxing against his chest.

Your relationship is still fresh. The darkness of Gotham could intrude the gleam it brings. For now, you both agreed to keep it on the low, out of papers and press especially. Yet, in quiet moments like this, you allow yourselves to bask in the glow unreachable anywhere else.

“What are you still doing here, darling?” Bruce asks, his voice quietly piercing the silent board room. He ducks his face down, grazing his nose against your shoulder before planting a tender kiss there.

“You don’t see stars here,” you absentmindedly say, “They’re just city lights.”

His lips travel up your neck, his devotion for you apparent in each slow, thorough kiss. Reaching his destination, he murmurs by your ear, “I must admit, I may have something to do with that.”

You tilt your chin up, catching the affectionate glint in his usually brooding eyes, “I stole the brightest star,” he whispers, “And I’m never letting her go.”

A rush of bliss, swifter than any shooting star, encases you, and a smile so great spreads across your mouth. He’d have kissed it off by now if he weren’t mesmerised by it.

“I’ll take you somewhere the stars can worship you, just as I do.”

Your eyes flutter shut, drifting to a heavenly haze nothing outside these walls can touch.

Rules / Guidelines:

The final day for submissions is July 1st, end of the day in your own time zone. Please be aware that any entries submitted after this will not be added to the event masterlist.

For the event masterlist, we will link any users who have created their own Scribbles masterlist. For anyone who has not created a masterlist, we will link to their preferred profile instead. For example, if you have a sideblog, we will confirm this with you.

Please use the tag #JuneJukeboxScribbles (no spaces) so we can find your creations. Please do not use the tag after the event has ended. You’re also welcome to tag @societynsoelsscribbles if you wish.

Please use appropriate warnings for explicit content, non-con, triggers, etc.

Hard no content: No incest, underage, bestiality, or necrophilia.

Any 18+ entries must be posted by an 18+ listed blog to be included.

Here are no limits on the number of submissions for a prompt. Do as many as you like,  just remember to use the #JuneJukeboxScribbles tag!

The target is 300 words, but should you go over, we will not scold, fine, or ban you… as long as you deliver (but please.. try) 

The possibilities are endless. Any fandom, pairing, reader insert, OC, character, ship, tone, or genre is welcome; smut, fluff, angst, crack, horror, romance, heartbreak, whatever beat you hear.

Join as often or as little as you like. There is absolutely no pressure. Whether you drop one track or complete the whole album, we’re thrilled to have you playing along.

You can use our event header for your own entries or masterlist, but please credit Society.

So warm up the jukebox, spread the sound and get ready to jive to your own funk… Drum roll please!!! 

Prompt list: (Playlist for all songs can be found here) 

June 1st - Joy To The World - Three Dog Night / “I never understood a single word he said”

June 2nd - I Wanna Be Bad - Willa Ford / “No I can't promise that I won't do that”

June 3rd - Mack the Knife - Bobby Darin / “And he shows them pearly white”

June 4th - Right Place, Wrong Time - Dr. John / “But I'm having such a good time”

June 5th - Hey! Baby - Bruce Channel / “I'm gonna make her mine, all mine”

June 6th - Therefore I Am - Billie Eilish / “I don't think I caught your name”

June 7th - Jump (For My Love) - Pointer Sisters / “I know you like what you see”

June 8th - Living La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin / “I feel a premonition”

June 9th - Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye / “Like when you said you felt so happy you could die”

June 10th - Pink Pony Club - Chappell Roan / “Every night's another reason why I left it all”

June 11th - Little Bitty Pretty One - Thurston Harris / “Tell you a story”

June 12th - Tainted Love - Soft Cell / “I cannot stand the way you tease”

June 13th - Town Without Pity - Gene Pitney / “Only those in love could know”

June 14th - Play That Funky Music - Wild Cherry / “Til you die?”

June 15th - Bad Habits - Ed Sheeran / “I got nothin' left to lose, or use, or do”

June 16th - Every Breath You Take - The Police / “Every smile you fake”

June 17th - Say Something - A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera / “It was over my head”

June 18th - Come and Get Your Love - Redbone / “What's the matter with you”

June 19th - Raise Your Glass - P!nk / “You can choose to let it go”

June 20th - All Shook Up - Elvis Presley / “Who do you thank when you have such luck?”

June 21st - Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace / “I can't control myself”

June 22nd - Wonderwall - Oasis / “Because maybe”

June 23rd - I Believe In A Thing Called Love - The Darkness / “We'll be rocking till the sun goes down”

June 24th - Groove Is In The Heart - Deee-Lite / “No, I couldn't ask for another”

June 25th - Rude - MAGIC! / “I hate to do this, you leave no choice”

June 26th - Total Eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler / “There's nothing I can do”

June 27th - The Dark End of the Street - James Carr / “That's where we always meet”

June 28th - Northern Attitude - Noah Kahan (with Hozier) / “If I get too close”

June 29th - Mr. Brightside - The Killers / “But it's just the price I pay”

June 30th - Don’t Speak - No Doubt / “I know what you're thinkin'”

Swap-Out Tracks

Praying - Kesha / “I'm proud of who I am”

Don’t Stop Believing - Journey / “A smell of wine and cheap perfume”

Season of the Witch - Donovan / “When I look out my window”

Cry Me A River - Julie London / “Now you say you love me”

Daydream Believer - The Monkees / “You once thought of me”

Dancing Queen - ABBA / “Anybody could be that guy”

I Touch Myself - Divinyls / “I don't want anybody else”

Wherever You Will Go - The Calling / “Well, then I hope there's someone out there”

Little Things Mean a Lot - Kitty Kallen / “Call me at six on the dot”

If the World Was Ending - JP Saxe feat. Julia Michaels / “Were you out drinkin'”

GOOD LUCK EVERYONE!