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retroellie · 10 months ago

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Polluted

Summary: After a long day of work, Spencer comes home and fucks his stresses away.

A/N: This was written in literally 45 minutes but I had this idea and I couldn't make it into a full fic, my mind could only think of the smut part lmao. Enjoy!!! :)

Warnings: NSFW, slapping, degradation, squirting, unprotected sex, mean!spencer

Word count: 1.9K

Prison changed Spencer Reid, plain and simple. This is not the man you came to love. He was cruel, possessive, completely and utterly damaged. You hoped that prison wouldn't taint Spencer too much, you hoped that he would continue to be sweet little Dr. Spencer Reid. But you knew what prison could do to a person, for you locked people up daily. You knew that the system would take Spencer's old soul and soft heart into its muddy hands, squeezing them until they became one. Although sometimes in the right lighting, in the right moment, you can see a hint of Spencer in his light brown eyes.

You can't say that you hated the change in Spencer, obviously there was much work to be done before Spencer could truly be himself again. However, you could live with this change. He was hungry, feeling as though your body was the only thing that could fill that hunger. It was extremely attractive to you, his sudden hunger for you. Spencer was always using you, using your body or your mouth or your hands... just you. There was always an excuse for him to be inside of you in his mind. A man thought of looking at you? He bent you over the kitchen table. You wore a shirt that showed a bit of your chest? He dragged you into the bathroom and forced you onto your knees. You smiled at him? He would shove his face between your thighs until you couldn't even see straight.

Even on the way back home after he had gotten out of prison, he bent you over the backseat on the side of the road and fucked you roughly. It felt like you were stepping on eggshells every time around him because you never know what can set him off... it was oddly scandalous, almost arousing as the thought of how he'd fuck you next was always on your mind. A big plus was that spencer dug himself into your brain, pulling out your deepest and darkest kinks, and using them to give you earth-shattering, mind-blowing, life-changing orgasms. Now you don't think you two could ever go back to just plain sex. He had ruined you, ruined your body so much that only the thought of being hurt could get you off now.

"Fucking bitch..." Spencer spat out, his hand spreading your legs further open as his cock drilled into your soaked cunt. "That bitch looked at me like I was fucking stupid..."

His words came out breathy and jagged as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. Spencer came home today upset, his tie being ripped off and thrown down as soon as he got into the door. You knew something was up by this action, but also the look on his face. He seemed to have a frown sewn onto his face, something that he wore most days. You asked what was wrong but you were met with him ripping off your clothes, hinting that he didn't want to talk but to fuck his frustrations into you. Now here you were, panties ripped off, legs wide open, Spencer deep inside you with his hand placed on your neck.

You couldn't tell how many times you came just in this position alone, you couldn't keep count. His hand gripped your through, affecting the way your brain functioned. You felt with every thrust of Spencer's hips you would lose brain cells... creating the dumb cock whore that Spencer ached to achieve. Spencer's hand applied more pressure to your throat as he thought of what happened at work, how while section chief Erin Strauss critiqued his work, people were being murdered.

"As if my 187 IQ wasn't enough for her." He started, his hand on your thigh being slammed down past your face and into the wooden table he was drilling you into. " I mean, I've been at this place for over 10 years... I know what I'm fucking doing"

You came again, not able to keep yourself from unraveling now. His hand on your throat was constricting your moans, completely silencing them as the only thing that could come out of your mouth was soft gurgles. You loved this feeling, knowing that at any moment if you didn't like it you could alert Spencer and he'd stop immediately. I guess you could say that Spencer's care for you never disappeared after prison, he would go on to say that it strengthened his love for you. He had this picture of you that you had sent him in one of your many letters, he kept it with him everywhere he went for it was the only thing that kept him sane.

One time a fellow inmate saw it, snatched it from him, and digested every single inch of you. He went on to explain the disgusting things he would do to you if he got the chance, that is exactly why Spencer came home to fuck you nice and good every night. Because if he wasn't the one to do it, he knew that other people would take you for granted, they would spend only minutes with you... ignoring what you needed and taking what they wanted. You would feel incomplete, unsatisfied, and completely in denial that love existed. You would assume love was only made for books and movies, that no one could show you the love you deserved. This is the love you deserve. You deserve a love that could have you coming undone over and over again, a harsh and mean kind of love but that always ended with soft kisses and a nice hot bath. A love that was sour at first but ended sweet, making sure that the words "i love you" were carved onto your skin.

"You wouldn't do that would you?" He whispered into your ear, his grip on your throat as he waited for your response. " You don't think I'm stupid ...hmm?"

His cock was too deep inside you, it was deep enough to have you going cross-eyed and unable to speak. Your moans became audible now, no longer being stuck in your throat due to his pressure being released. His pace was still inhumanly fast, not stopping even for a second. The table had started to shit forward, being scrapped across the floor and probably worrying the downstairs neighbors. You were on the verge of cumming again, your mind not even able to comprehend his question until you felt a harsh sting on your cheek. Spencer had slapped you across the face, growing impatient while waiting for your answer.

"Answer me...." He hissed out, leaning down and taking his lips to yours. He bit down on your lip, creating a pain that shot through your body. "Or I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again until you can't think of anything else besides my cock deep inside your tight little pussy..."

You could taste blood now, your lip bleeding and seeping into your mouth. His words created this deep, rough knot in your stomach. It wasn't like the rest of the orgasms you had tonight, no it was more intense. It hurt, painful with every thrust of his cock. It created a deep pain and pleasure dynamic in your body but felt like something was trying to claw itself out of your body.

"Fuck..." You screamed out, grabbing onto him and digging your fingernails into his back. "No I wouldn't! Fuck... I wouldn't! I won't!"

You finally replied, hoping with those words he would deepen his thrust if that was even possible. Spencer just grinned down at you, placing his head in between your shoulder blade and your neck. He set soft kisses to the skin, his warm lips against your burning skin. Spencer was close, your words pushing him further to the edge. The feeling inside your stomach didn't stop or dull, it only got worse. You were screaming now, Spencer's hand lingering on your neck but sitting gently on your skin. Spencer picked up his speed, the table scraping against the floor even harder.

You couldn't handle it, everything around you becoming so far away yet being so close. The feeling got to a point of feeling terrifyingly painful but also so potent of pleasure and so bewitching that you didn't want it to end now. A couple more of Spencer's deep and harsh thrusts sent you over the edge, the painful knot in your stomach snapping and shooting liquid out of your body. It was the first time you had ever squirted, the feeling so glorious that you wished it would happen every time. Your vision went out, only seeing light and hearing Spencer's soft moans as he finished inside of you. The world felt like it ended, nothing to be seen or to be experienced... just emptiness but complete fullness all at the same time.

"Good girl..." You heard Spencer's words echo through your now-empty mind. You couldn't tell if your eyes were closed or not. "You did so good for me honey... I'm so proud of you."

Those single words were all you needed to hear as you floated back to earth and into your body, you blinked a couple times... forgetting where and who you were for a split second. You came back to see Spencer brushing your hair back from your sweaty face, his face inches from yours as his face filled with concern that maybe he had broken you finally.

"There she is..." He chuckled softly, kissing your lips softly. " There's my girl..."

You gave him a weak smile, raise your hand to rest on his cheek. You rubbed it softly, feeling the growing stubble on his face. He was just as sweaty as you, his body hot to the touch. You two probably looked insane, one of you barely able to walk looking beat the hell up and the other one scratched up and drenched with liquids. Spencer gently slid himself out of you, watching you wince softly as it felt like he was connected to you at this point.

"Sorry..." He whispered, taking your hand in his as he rubbed your thigh gently "I was too rough huh?"

Rough was not even close to what Spencer was. He was brutal, sadistic, barbaric but you couldn't deny that you would choose it over compassion any day. You began to think that maybe prison was the best thing that could've happened to Spencer Reid, not only was he a genius but he now had a powerful glow to him. Shy kisses and longing gazes were a thing of the past for you two, Spencer knew what he wanted and he was going to get it.

"You were just rough enough..." I chuckled, feeling nothing but content and at peace in this moment.

Spencer laughed with you, pecking your lips one last time before pulling away from you. He looked around, his eyes landing on the couch. He smiled, walking over and leaving you but only for a second. He came back with a blanket, wrapping it around you then picking you up bridal style. You thanked him silently because you knew there was no way you were getting off the table without some kind of help.

"To the bath you go..." He joked, holding you close to him as he walked you to your shared bathroom.

You looked into his eyes and at the right lighting, the right moment, you looked into his light brown eyes... realizing that this is Spencer Reid. This is Spencer Reid damaged, polluted, and bruised... but it was still the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler

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ladykailitha · 2 months ago

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The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 10

Hey guys! Welcome back!! This story did better last week, so yay!!!

This chapter is a lot of happy moments for Steve, after Hopper gives a tiny heart attack. Just a tiny one though. Just Steve being helped by three older men have a much better day than yesterday (or last week for us! ;))

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Steve hurried out to the parking lot of the hotel. He skidded to a stop in front of the valet station looking around frantically.

There leaning against his car was the Chief of Police, hands clasping his wrists, and legs crossed at the ankle. When he spotted Steve, he raised one hand to wave.

Steve looked around and then hurried over. “Holy fuck. I thought my dad had found me, Hop!”

Hopper grimaced as he stood up. “Yeah, I probably should have put in a hint who I was. I didn’t mean to put you on the defensive straight away.”

Steve froze as the implication hit him. “What happened?”

Hopper held up his hand placatingly. “I want to first let you know that they’re okay, just a little shaken up.”

“Who, Hop?” he bit out, his fist clenching at his sides.

“Your daddy and Hank Tippets showed up at the Henderson’s about a half hour ago,” Hopper explained. “Dustin radioed me and before either man could do something stupid, I managed to scare them off. And if hair on their heads so much is disturbed they’re going to jail. Clint isn’t going to risk that. Especially with me breathing down his neck.”

“Shit.” Steve was suddenly very sick. How did they find the Hendersons? Were they really all right?

“Whoa, son,” Hopper said, reaching out for him as he began to sway. “They followed your car. But I’ve got a plan for that. We’re going to drive down to the police impound lot and cover it with a tarp. No one will think to look for it there. Then you’re gonna lay low here for about a week. Give this time blow over. During that time, I’ll see about getting you another vehicle for you to drive.”

Steve looked up at him with wide-eyed amazement. “Oh that is a good idea.”

“Thanks,” he replied dryly. “You follow me to station, I’ll tell people you’re filing a complaint against Hank Tippets for the incident at the arcade yesterday and then I’ll impound your car.” He cocked his head to the side with a grin. “And then lose the paperwork.”

Steve huffed out a weak laugh, but did as he was told. He pulled into the police station and Hopper took down all his information.

Suddenly Hopper was cursing and yelling up a storm. The desk sergeant came running up to him and they both struggled with the shredder. But alas, whatever it was had been completely obliterated.

“One of these days that damn thing is going to eat someone!” Hopper growled. “Put in an order for a new one, Sgt. Rogers so that we don’t have further tragedies.”

The sergeant nodded and Hopper winked at Steve. Steve fought to keep the smile off his face. His car was never here. He finished up the rest of the complaint and let Hopper drive him home.

Steve hunched down into the seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest with a pout. “What’s point of having money if I can’t treat the people I love?”

Hopper gave him the side eye. “You want to tell me what’s really goin’ on? Because your daddy is a lying snake and there is something people aren’t saying.”

“You have to promise not to overreact,” Steve huffed. When Hopper laughed, he bit out, “I mean it, Hop.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid,” Hopper said shaking his head. “I’ll be cool and calm.”

So Steve told him about his last week. From Tommy all the way to Hank Tippets.

Hopper drove in silence for a moment ingesting everything Steve told him.

“No one but Monty and now you knows who Eddie is,” Steve warned him. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Agreed,” Hopper said. “Nice to see that there are still decent folk left in the world, Eddie always did take more after his uncle Wayne, then he did his daddy. Nice to see fame didn’t change that.”

Steve straightened up; hands, a white knuckle grip on the sides of the front seat. “You’re first adult I’ve ever heard say anything good about him in all my years growing up in Hawkins.”

Hopped snorted. “Oh, he was trouble, there was no doubt about that. But he always had a soft spot for the weak, the abused, and the downtrodden. The outcasts. He probably saw in you hat he saw in those kids he picked up all the time for that game of his.”

“He had a game?” Steve asked, leaning away from Hopper skeptically. “Really?”

“That table top role-playing game that got all the newspapers up in a tizzy a couple years back.”

“D&D?” Steve asked in shock. “He played D&D?”

Hopper snapped his fingers. “That’s one. All of Ellie’s friends play it. It’s a harmless little fun. It’s just make-believe with paper and dice.”

Steve nodded.

They pulled up to the hotel and Steve opened the door to jump out.

“You take care of yourself, okay?” Hopper said. “I’m trusting Eddie to keep you safe, so you better let him, you hear?”

“Loud and clear!” Steve said with a jaunty wave.

“Go on and get out of here, you menace,” Hopper groused.

Steve closed the door behind him and went up to his room. He could see the message light was blinking, so he went over to listen to it.

“Hey, Stevie, it’s Eddie. I see you’re out. I hope everything is okay. Give me a call when you get this. BEEEEEPPPP!!”

Steve immediately dialed Eddie’s number.

“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie cooed. “You okay?”

Steve let out a small whimper and long drawn out, “No.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie murmured. “Tell me everything.”

So he did. From the arcade to sneaking out early, to what happened at the Hendersons according to Hopper. The complaint against Hank Tippets and the loss of his car.

“I never did like ole man Tippets,” Eddie said darkly, “always throwing his weight around just because he was the mayor’s campaign advisor once.”

“And that was from before I was born.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’m glad you have the Chief in your corner. I didn’t realize he had adopted a little girl, though.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “She was found wandering the streets, with no memory of who she was or how she got there. She was in specialized care for a couple of years and during that time Hop was there every day and they just bonded. Once she was cleared for going home, he adopted her. They’ve been together ever since.”

“That’s cute,” Eddie murmured. “I am sorry about the loss of your car, little Canary. That really sucks. Are you going to be okay?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “I mean, not really. I knew my dad was going to go after the kids, I just thought I had all my bases covered when I took them to the arcade.”

“You did a really good job,” Eddie soothed. “You didn’t know there would be somewhere there who jumped to the absolute wrong conclusion.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I guess you’re right. But I’m going to be a good boy and stick to the hotel until my dad gets the fuck out of town. And hopefully for this to blow over.”

“You do that, baby,” Eddie purred. “What are your plans for today?”

“I should go for a swim but I think I’m going to hide out in the suite, order pizza and watch trashy porn.”

Eddie laughed. “All porn is trashy, honey. The only difference is budget.”

They talked for a bit longer before Eddie had to go and they hung up. Steve was feeling sorry for himself when he realized there was something he could do.

He hopped into the shower and then got dressed in some of his nicer attire. Once his hair was flawless he grabbed his room key and trotted down the front desk. He cheered to himself when he saw the person at the desk was Bob. He was a cheerful, round man with sparkling eyes and a kind smile. The other person who manned the front desk during the day was horrible.

When Steve had asked about getting the combination for his safe in his room, the woman was very condescending to him and told him the hotel safe was good enough for a “young thing” like him.

He slid her his chip to get the money out of the safe and when she came back she was absolutely stark white and literally falling over herself to get Steve whatever he wanted.

“Bob!” he greeted warmly.

“Mr. Munson,” he replied cheerfully. He had been told the room was under Eddie Munson and that Steve was a cousin that needed a place to stay while Eddie was on tour. He also knew it was a fucking lie, but as Clint Harrington could burn in the deepest, darkest circle of hell, so Mr. Munson it was.

“I have a couple of favors to ask you,” Steve said, leaning on the counter, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Your cousin has stated that whatever you want as long as it was in our power,” Bob said, “to grant it.”

Steve grinned. He figured that was the case. “I was wondering if I could get a second phone for the desk. I like having the one by the bed, but I need one by the desk, too. I saw there was a jack for it.”

Bob smiled. “Of course, I’ll have one of the porters sent up later with one. Was there anything else you needed?”

Steve bit his lip and grimaced. “This might be a little...unethical. So if it is, tell me to buzz off.” Bob nodded. “Right, so when I went to the gym a couple of days ago there was this bitchy Over the Hill Barbie who made it really uncomfortable to use the gym and I was wondering if you could tell me if she was still at the hotel? You don’t have to tell me her name or anything, just a heads up if she’s using the gym or something?”

Bob smirked. Over the Hill Barbie was a very good description for Mrs. Molly Holland. Her husband was in town to look into buying up farm land to turn them into high raise condos. Something this town really, really didn’t need. “Her and her husband are only in town until tomorrow, but she only uses the gym first thing in the morning, then she spends the rest of the afternoon getting wasted at the hotel bar.”

Steve grinned and tapped the counter. “You are a god among men, thank you!” He made kisses and blew them at him with his hands as he backed away from the counter. As he turned away he could hear Bob chuckle at him.

His plans had just changed. He could mope in his room and cry the loss of his car, but this was a much better outlet. Running.

He quickly changed into his workout gear and grabbed a water bottle of the room’s mini fridge. There were others in the gym downstairs if he needed more water. He should really just get his own water bottle to refill as needed, but this would work just fine.

He peaked into the gym to be on the safe side, but it seemed as though Bob’s information was good. No Over the Hill Barbie!

Steve hopped on the nearest free treadmill and slipped his water into the cup holder. He worked out to his heart content, stopping when he wanted to and not because of some biddy with a grudge.

He went back up to his room where he showered again. He was just coming out of the bathroom, fully dressed when there was a knock on his door.

He frowned and made his way to open the door. He was little surprised to find the porter with a small black box and the phone he requested. He looked at his watch, it wasn’t even one o’clock yet. He opened the door further to let the porter in.

“This came for you while you were in the gym,” the porter explained about the box, setting it on the side table next to the sofa as he setup the phone on the desk.

Steve wandered over to the desk and opened the box. Inside was a set of two keys on a single key fob with a red and silver arrowhead with a star in the middle.

Oh shit.

He waited until the porter was done before he followed him out with the keys and his hotel key in hand. He knew it was going to have a huge bow on it, so it would be easy to find.

Sure enough, there in the valet parking was a yellow two door Pontiac Sunbird coupe. It was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. His dad would never see this beauty coming. Not in a million years. Steve put the keys into the door and the soft THUNK of the tumbler turning into place was magical.

The valet rushed over to remove the even brighter yellow ribbon as Steve slid into the front seat. The interior was a light grey and was so soft to the touch. It wasn’t leather like his Bimmer but it was beautiful.

He gripped the steering wheel and flexed his wrists to get a feel for it. The seat didn’t need to be put back too much further, which meant whoever drove it here was probably about his height.

Steve looked up at the valet. “Hey, can you go to my room and get my wallet? There’s an extra tip in it for you if you do it fast.”

Steve handed him his room key and the valet rushed off. It was barely a couple of minutes before the valet had returned, wallet and key in hand. Steve opened the wallet and gave him a ten dollar bill. The valet grinned and saluted him.

Steve put the key in the ignition and revved the engine.

God, the way it purred.

He put his wallet on the dashboard and pulled out of the parking lot. He wanted to show it off to everyone, but his common sense won out.

Well common sense and a selfish desire to really test it before he let anyone see it. He opened the glove compartment and laughed. It was full of Corroded Coffin tapes. He pulled one out and stuck into the tape deck.

He turned it up as he pulled into traffic. Maybe a good way to test out this beauty would to take a trip to the record shop.

So with a grin on his face, Steve went to go do just that.

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

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4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #age difference #ten years between steve and eddie

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ohworm-writes · 1 year ago

Note

Scenarios for Firefighter 141 x fem!reader who’s a hairdresser?

I could just see each scenario of them being supportive boyfriends just heart eyes for her in her shop while her customers are jealous.

Oh my gods you're so intelligent for saying this because, yes, all of them would be so supportive of their partner's career as a hairdresser.

First and foremost: every single person who works at the station (be it the volunteers, EMTS, paramedics, firefighters or even the Fire Chief, 141 boys or otherwise) goes to your salon to get their hair done, be it the ones at the tops of their heads or their facial hair, whether you do it or not.

It's a win win, in all honesty. Your shop gets more customers, the boys are promoting and supporting their partner's work, and you get to listen to and share stories, secrets and drama about your boyfriend with the people he works with!

PRICE gets his facial hair done by you and you alone- you're the one who encouraged it, after all, and who best to trust than with his most defining aspect than you? When time allows, he'll come into your shop, still dressed in his PPE, or, at the very least, his bunker pants, waiting with a smug grin on his face for you to tend to him, completely tuning out all of the confused or starstruck looks he's getting by the other customers inside.

(Usually, it isn't even like you're trimming it or anything, just grooming it so that it sits more cleanly on his face. Is it so bad that he wants your hands on his face? After all, you have that adorable, concentrated expression you have on as you're leaned in close to him when you work, combing and brushing strands into place with the sole focus of making him look as presentable as possible.)

He keeps trying to put his hands on your hips throughout the entire process, but it always ends with you swatting his hands away and giving him a playfully stern look, whispering to his with a warning to quit it (he never does). All of the customers in the shop are confused by the interaction, some genuinely worried for you, others utterly jealous, because why on Earth would the local firehouse's Captain be putting his hands on you?

He ignores them, their stares, and any comments or remarks they may make, giving you the most lovesick expression as you tend to him with such attentiveness, talking to him about your own day while he talks about his, mumbling away to you about the jobs he's completed thus far, how the newest fire academy graduate working at the station has been a pain in his ass, and whatever else comes to his mind.

He always suggests how you should just take the day off and ride back to the station with him while he's still off call. You never do. He pouts. You press a kiss to his forehead. It's a song an dance the two of you go through every single time he comes by, and although, he will admit, he is a little disappointed you won't take him up on his offer, he knows you take your job seriously and wouldn't ever be willing to blow it off just to spend the day with him, and he has respect it. Plus, it's a foolproof way to get a kiss from you.

If you ever do, though, he's quick to grab your things and usher you out of the door with a grin, placing his helmet onto your head with a grin, the heavy weight of the item forcing you to straighten your posture as he moves you into one of the free seats with that same smug, satisfied grin on his lips, honking the horn without shame as he drives the two of you back to the station.

GHOST always walks in to your shop as if he had just came back from a call, dressed in a mask and a hood, his helmet on, all of his equipment still on his body as he wordlessly walks over to you, choosing to stand either behind you or next to you as you work on a customer, silent most times.

It's a shame he never removes his facial coverings when he comes by, double the shame, given he doesn't let you work on his hair whatsoever. That doesn't mean he doesn't care, though. He buys half of the products you use, after all, and he listens to ever rant and story you have to share about your job with unwavering attention, memorizing some of the process and methods you've spoken of (if he tried, he could probably layer hair flawlessly just from having listened to you so intently).

The customers are usually confused or freaked the fuck out by some random fireman coming over and staring at them as they get their hair done (and, frankly, they wouldn't be wrong to, especially when he watches with an unblinking stare as your hands and fingers deftly work through the strands with an unyielding concentration; it looks like he's glaring to those who don't know better, which can be unnerving).

But when he starts to talk after a few prolonged minutes of silence, he's asking about how your day's gone so far and what exactly you're working on right now, ignoring the customer completely and staring at you through the mirror in front of the three of you, giving short responses and hums, his tense, smoke scented body relaxing minutely as you speak, a loving expression that only you can catch hidden beneath his gaze.

If you ask him about how his day went, he'll usually say something along the lines of "I'll tell you later". It's not dismissive, but rather, he just prefers to talk about his work when the two of you are alone and not in the presence of others. It's a personal thing for him, his work, given how sensitive the information can become at times, and it's not something he wants some random civilian listening to him talk about.

Usually, right before he leaves, he'll lean in close, the bottom of his mask hovering above your shoulder, right next to your ear, whispering about how you should come over and spend the night at the station with him, making the excuse that the others miss playing cards with you or something equally as lame, but truth be told, he just wants to wake up with you in his uniform.

SOAP lets you do anything you'd like to him. Facial hair? Sure, why not. He could pull off a handlebar, right? Hair? Yeah, we could do a full buzz, why not? Dye? It's... it's best you pick the color, because he'll just put a bunch of random colors on a wheel and spin it. Whatever it lands on, he'll have you do. (It landed on platinum once, and he didn't realize how many sessions he'd have to have and the fact he'd be blond for months on end before it actually matched.)

The way I want to say that he'd pull up to your shop with the siren blaring so badly, but my firefighter loving heart says he'd be more responsible than that (because they're literally not supposed to have it on in case of emergency, and he won't even use the horn because he doesn't want to mess you or any of your co-workers up as you work).

However, that doesn't mean that he won't come into the shop and fling open the door with just a little too much enthusiasm, greeting all of your co-workers as he walks in. Sometimes, he'll even bring the lot of you lunch or coffee if time allows and he isn't needed immediately back at the station (and, yes, he has everyone's orders memorized, of course).

He's dressed all up in his PPE, coming up behind you as you work, pressing a kiss to the back of your head, making sure not to be too enthusiastic or harsh with his movements, not wanting to mess you up, gently grabbing your waist (his gloves press into your apron and get them dirty, but neither of you complain) and placing his chin on your shoulder, talking with you about anything and everything, staring lovestruck at you through the mirror, eyes hooded, gaze coated with love and adoration as he watches you work.

Your co-workers are used to the PDA, the customers are not. A lot of them are confused or offput by it, though, there are those select few that cast glares at either of you (because, come on now, both of you are hot! It's hard to not be jealous of one of the two of you, or even both). There's an attractiveness that comes with being a firefighter (don't we all love a man in uniform?), so more often then not, glares are cast at you.

He'll just press a kiss or two to your cheek to reassure any worries you may have, grinning madly at you as he stares at you in the mirror before pulling back, not wanting to distract you any longer, giving you one of those crappy, plastic stickers with the fire department's logo on it (he does this every single time he sees you, so you just give the stickers to any kids you do hair for), blowing you a kiss before walking out.

GAZ who swears up and down he could marry you because, when you initially asked to do his hair back when the two of you first started dating, sensing his skepticism, showed him how you had done work on a number of people who matched his hair type, and, although he didn't tell you, noted you did a better job than his current barber (and god damn did you line that boy up right).

He always comes in between calls, dressed in his bunker pants and station-issued t-shirt, tucked in, strolling in casually, waiting patiently until you're finished with your client to approach you, your favorite drink from that one spot he heard you talk about last time he came in in his hand, a smile painted across his lips as he approaches you, kissing you on the forehead without shame.

Some of the customers give you both weird looks, either uncomfortable with the PDA or confused why, first off, a firefighter was in the barbershop/salon so casually on a random Thursday afternoon, and two, why he was being so lovey-dovey with you? (They wish it were them so badly, it's pathetic, and Gaz tells you just how pathetic he finds it in private, fighting back the urge to scoff and roll his eyes whenever he catches the stares in person).

He'll sit in the seat, talking with you as you sweep the floor of hair or clean up your work station, leaning into it comfortably, slowly spinning around it as the two of you converse, asking you about how you're days going so far, stealing a sip of your drink with a cheeky grin every once in a while as he listens to you speak (he likes it especially when you whisper out complaints to him about some of the customers you've had so far, or share some of the conversations you've had or overheard with customers).

And the look in his eyes as he listens to you speak? God. The only way to describe it is enamored, completely overwhelmed with love and awe and admiration and every positive word you could find in a dictionary. You often joke with him that you can see his eyes popping out cartoonishly in the shapes of hearts as he stares at you, to which he only responds, saying "It's 'cause you look so good when you talk about doing the thing you love... can't help myself".

He'll talk about his work, a tone of boredom hinting at his tone, not as interested in talking about his own job when he could be listening to you, but if you want him to talk, who is he to deny you? (Like, he could have had the most eventful day, dealt with a goer, two Class B's, or something worse, and he'd act like it was nothing).

Presses a kiss to the back of your hand and gives your a grin as he's called back to the station, telling you to give him a call when you get off so he can come pick you up in the truck. (He always tell you that "royalty like you has got to have a proper carriage, don't you think so, love?").

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hotluncheddie · 8 months ago

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omg I didn't realize you wanted chubby steddie asks 🙈

as much as we love the babygirlification of Steve Harrington..... I'm obsessed with boyish manly Steve who is chubby and Eddie is obsessed with him!!!! I'm thinking about your one fic with the sweaty tank top!!!!! do you have more thoughts on this??

yesssssss!!! anon yes yesssssssss!!!!!

not me being like 'yeah! sweaty task top fic nice nice' then realising i have like three different posts that have Steve in a sweaty tank top lol

thankfully @scoops-aboy86 came in clutch with a new tank top sciario <3 (and held my hand thru writing the end lmao ty pal)

but i just love an ex jock trope, i love bulk under muscle and i think big beefy hairy guys are hot - and Steve harrington deserves to be all of that, and more

and also, importantly, eddie munson deserves to have all of that too, in and around him, all the time, in the form of Steve Harrington.

Eddie had come to accept the wealth of things he could be into, the actual buffet of people and scenarios that could get his dick hard. He's had more than his fair share of knuckle biting orgasms over the ex chief of police Jim Hopper. Before and, maybe worse, after getting to know him.

So he knew what it was to have something of a shame wank. To enjoy a moustache or two and a paunch at a middle.

But nothing, no deep seated daddy issues or fantasy of being held down, could ever prepare him for Steve Harrington.

Post upside down, post eventual college and transition to work. Post two bed apartment with Robin, then two bed apartment with Robin and Eddie. Then actual full blow house with Eddie, and more often than not weekend guest Robin. Dating Steve for as long as has was one thing, loving Steve with everything he had was another, and being loved by Steve was something he still had nights of panic about - silent tears as fear and self doubt gripped his throat, nightmares about it all being an elaborate prank that sneak their way in even with Steves arms wrapped tight around his middle.

but Eddie had him.

Was allowed to love him, and worship Steve for all that he was worth. It was wonderful. Eddie knew that.

But it had its challenges. Nothing past Eddie could've done would help current Eddie for what he was in for.

Like how Steve had bulked up over the years, settled and filled out in a way that made those visions of Hopper, and guys from bars he really shouldn't have been at, all come surging back.

Steve was thick, and strong and still so achingly beautiful. Boyish in his actions at times but also protective and capable in a way that made Eddie swoon. Honest to god. Made him feel like a main character in one of those bodice ripper books he had seen (taken out and read) at the library.

And then Steve made it worse.

So so so much worse.

Because Steve went and got a tattoo.

Well, another tattoo. He added roses to go along with the robin and branch on his arm, adding to its greenery with red petals and thorns that Eddie knew were secretly for him. He’d said, offhandedly, that they were his favourite and he knows, because he knows Steve, that thats something he'd listen to and remember.

He’s a die hard romantic.

And now Eddie is going to die, hard.

Soon, if Steve doesn't put a proper fucking shirt on.

Steves been wearing his stupid, old, cropped, white tank top since the appointment. He's "letting the tattoo breathe", "doesn't like the feeling of the healing skin against the fabric", "wants to do it properly". "hates Eddie and wants him to die of hard dick, big-fat-ball disease."

He glares at Steve from the other end of the couch, and maybe only three of those things are something Steve's actually said, but, he thought them. All of them. Must have.

Because Steve's tank is so old it's nearly see through, the peak of his pink nipple evident and distracting. The cropped end keeps rolling up and exposing his wider bellybutton and soft sides. And, as always, with any tank top, with any tank top on Steve, hit tits are there - hairy and lovely and out.

'Steve, please.' Eddie whines, he doesn't think he can take much more.

Steve just raises his eyebrows, taking a swig of beer and not looking away from the tv. 'If I sweat too much, it'll mess with the healing.' He says.

Eddie just crosses his arms, sinks lower into the couch. ‘Can you put on a normal shirt at least? For my sanity, for that alone, please?' Not wanting to sound desperate, but he is desperate.

Steve sighs, muting the TV. 'C'mere.' He holds his arms out and Eddie crawls into his lap. Still sulking, arms still crossed. ‘Eddie, you’re the one who gave me the tattoo. I’m following your instructions.’ Steve says gently.

‘M’firing Robin for getting you to sign the info form.’ He grumbles.

Steve smiles at him, tucking some hair behind his ears. ‘You can’t fire her for doing her job baby.’

‘Maybe not’ Eddie sniffs. ‘But I’m not sharing my baby blue ink with her next time she gets one of her slutty little lady sailor pin ups booked in.’ He mumbles to himself.

Steve pulls Eddie in closer, hands on his waist as he leans in to whisper in Eddies ear. 'Aren't I being so good though? Following what you said, no strenuous activity for two days right?' His voice a little breathy, soft.

And that makes Eddie pause, makes his insides churn and his heart rate increase. 'Ye-yeah.' He rasps, eyes wide. 'So good Stevie.'

'So we have to wait until tomorrow, like you said, yeah?' Steve asks, eyes all big and sweet, lips in a little pouty.

Fuck. He's right. Eddie dug his own grave.

'Yeah.' He sighs. He can do it, for Steve.

Steve smiles sweetly at him, tapping Eddie on the ass and shifting him closer so Steve can unmute the tv and keep watching his game. 'Good boy.' Steve says, kissing Eddies temple.

…Wait. Eddie scrunches his eyebrows, half hard and confused.

But Steve just holds him closer. Eddie buries his head in Steve's neck, and whines.

#:)#eddie gets domed by pouty dilf Steve #he doesn't know how to feel about it - but he likes it #<3 #ask #hotlunch #steddie #chubby steve harrington #tattoo artist eddie munson #and robin #i think Steve is their part time receptionist and also works at the coffee shop across the street #or part time florist across the street - to really live the au tropes #hes hot

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in-death-we-fall · 9 months ago

Text

Out Of The Shadows

Since his shock exit from Slipknot, Joey Jordison has remained silent. For the first time, he opens up about the split, the debilitating condition that left him unable to walk, and how he's been reborn anew

Words: Dom Lawson • Pics: Travis Shinn

Metal Hammer 285 - August 2016 (google drive link) Full disclosure I pasted the main article from Metal Hammer's awful awful website because my hands are sad (from doing things like this, yes. Don't keep doing things if they hurt, yes even if you're super super excited about a guy.)

There is life after death. First, there’s Hell.

When the news first broke that Joey Jordison was no longer in Slipknot, it sent shockwaves around the world. Here was this icon of our world and one of the founding members of one of the greatest bands to emerge in all of 30 years suddenly, inexplicably gone. In the heavy wake of Paul Gray’s passing it seemed almost too great a blow for any band, even one with nine members. Anyone who knows their travails understands that they’re less a band and more like a dysfunctional family – had their problems caught up with them? But reappear they did, to the sound of a rapturously received album, and the three-ring circus of Knotfest, and yet still questions remained about the circumstances of Joey’s departure. Slipknot were tightlipped, and Joey? It was anyone’s guess.

I’m humbled to say that we now have Joey’s side of the story, and this month’s world-exclusive journey to Des Moines is one of the most powerful, saddening and inspirational stories you’ll read in these pages. Sure, there are the new records – Vimic and Sinsaeneum (sic) herald one of our world’s greatest musicians returning to the fold and from the sound of things we’ve some tremendous records ahead of us.

More importantly though, we have one of metal’s greatest figures back, and we couldn’t be more delighted to see him back on his feet – literally. To read Dom Lawson’s tale of a man who’s truly been there and back again, see p.38. Make sure you’re sitting down, because Travis Shinn’s remarkable photography is as stark as it it worth not one, but over 3,000 words.

Thank you for reading, and… Stay metal! Alex, Editör-In-Chief

Out Of The Shadows

Words: Dom Lawson • Pics: Travis Shinn

Joey Jordison unmasked: the ultimate interview

Part One - Revelation

“This is very important to me. You’re getting something that I have not told anyone. It’s very emotional. It’s fucking hardcore, man.”

Joey Jordison has got a few things to get off his chest. More importantly, the world has got a few questions for the erstwhile Slipknot alumnus and the 21st century’s most celebrated percussive polymath, not least because he has been resolutely off the radar for the last few years.

The last time Metal Hammer spoke directly to Joey, he was promoting his then-newly-formed band Scar The Martyr, who released their self-titled debut album in September 2013. Three months later, he was seemingly dismissed from Slipknot, the band he had enjoyed huge global success with ever since they exploded into our world back in 1999.

Since that startling news broke in December 2013, Joey has been conspicuous by his absence from our ears, eyes and screens. This being the age of endless social media speculation, his disappearance and departure from Slipknot have been widely discussed online, one commonly espoused theory being that the diminutive drummer had gone spectacularly off the rails and was simply unable to fulfill his usual duties, thus prompting his bandmates’ decision to effect an unexpected lineup change.

In truth, only Joey’s closest friends and business associates know what he’s been up to for the last couple of years, but as he warmly greets Hammer at the door of the house he shares with girlfriend Amanda in Des Moines, it’s immediately apparent that today’s interview is much more than just an opportunity to herald the arrival of not one, but two new bands and Joey’s wholesale return to action. Instead, this is what he describes as “an opportunity to tell everyone what the fuck has been going on”. And it’s almost certainly not what anyone is expecting.

“It was at the end of the memorial shows we did for Paul,” Joey begins, referencing the death of bandmate Paul Gray and the subsequent world tour that began in the summer of 2011 and continued until August 2012. “We were in Canada, at the end of my last run of shows with Slipknot, and something happened to me but I didn’t know what it was. I was super ill. You can be sick and still play, but this was something I’d never felt in my life before.

“We found out that what I have is acute transverse myelitis. It’s a neurological condition that hits your spinal cord and it wiped my legs out completely. It’s like having your legs cut off, basically. I played those last couple of shows and it scared the living shit out of me. I didn’t know what it was. Everyone thought I was fucked up, but it wasn’t the case. I wasn’t even drinking. Everything was straight-laced and fucking perfect. Everything was on point. But I had to be carried to the stage…”

Joey pauses, wincing at the memory. “The pain was something I’d never experienced in my life before, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

When he arrived home from the Slipknot tour, Joey could barely walk. On August 21, 2012, he was admitted to Mercy West hospital in Des Moines, diagnosed with some form of leg paralysis but unaware of exactly how or why this was happening to him. Ten days later, he was transferred to the neurological unit at University Of Iowa Hospital in Iowa City, understandably terrified and extremely confused about his physical deterioration.

“It was fucking bad, dude,” he recalls. “My lady has everything documented. I got struck with this fucking thing that I couldn’t control. The doctors said I might not be able to walk again. Today, I can almost run, but back then I couldn’t even stand up. I was bed-ridden. If I wanted to turn over in bed, I had to move my legs with my hands. I was in and out of the hospital for months.

“Some beautiful people have helped me out and got me back stronger and taught me how to walk again, but at that moment my whole life was screwed, man. Acute transverse myelitis is a fucked-up disease and a lot of people don’t recover from it and they’re paralysed forever.”

After having braces fitted to prevent his weakened legs from buckling, Joey was finally discharged from hospital in October 2012. Thus began an extremely lengthy, challenging and physically exhausting regime of physical and occupational therapy, as Joey tried to summon the energy and determination to beat the bizarre neurological condition that had wrenched the carpet from under his feet and left him both horribly vulnerable and understandably bewildered.

Early in 2013, work began on Scar The Martyr’s debut album, as a further batch of Slipknot shows in Japan and Europe – including a headline slot at Download – loomed over the horizon. Still recovering from the worst of his illness, Joey somehow managed to recover to the point where he was able to perform at those gigs, after which he threw himself wholeheartedly into launching Scar The Martyr by hitting the road as main support to Danzig in the US.

All the while, of course, his global army of admirers remained entirely in the dark about the turmoil and trials going on behind the scenes. It was widely noted that Joey was looking overweight and far from healthy during Scar The Martyr’s debut UK tour, but the conclusions that most people were jumping to – in essence, that he had a problem with drugs and/or drink �� were completely off target. Unfortunately, when Slipknot announced on December 12, 2013, that they were to forge ahead without their talismanic drummer, those rumours seemed to gain a little extra momentum.

“Yeah, and that’s why I love being able to do this interview, because finally I get to tell the fucking truth!” Joey declares. “It’s been really frustrating, but I can only bless the people that have been around me and helped me to get back to this point. And this is what I want to clarify for my fans…” – he punches his hand to emphasise the importance of this statement – “…it had nothing to do with fucking drugs or fucking alcohol!”

Several times during our interview, Joey’s eyes fill with tears. It’s abundantly clear that the extraordinary effort required to confront acute transverse myelitis and doggedly chase a light at the end of a seriously dark and bleak tunnel has taken a lot out of him, particularly on an emotional level. But now that he is about to click into top gear once again, via new bands Vimic and Sinsaenum, Joey is channeling his energies towards a cathartic clearing of the decks, and setting people straight about his life over the last five years is top of the agenda.

“Life takes you on weird trips and you just have to hold on, ride the wave and be as strong as you fucking can,” he shrugs. “I’ve been through so much fucking shit over the last few years and people just don’t know.”

Part Two - Struggle

The news that Joey had seemingly been sacked from Slipknot came as a huge shock to everyone, even without the additional knowledge of his devastating health problems. From the band’s enormous fanbase, through to many of us in the metal world that have always known him to be, at the very least, a wholly dedicated and passionate member of that 18-legged, arena-smashing entity, it was a wildly unexpected turn of events.

The band’s own public statements at the time took a predictably passive course, the relatively benign implication being that Joey and his former comrades were simply heading in different creative directions and could no longer work together effectively.

On January 2, 2014, he made his own statement on Facebook, making it plain that as far as he was concerned, there was no mutual agreement and he had been fired from Slipknot for reasons unknown.

“I was laying in bed with my lady, I’d been in rehabilitation for my health issues but everything was good, and the next thing I know…” he pauses, visibly upset. “No band meeting? None. Anything from management? No, nothing. All I got was a stupid fucking email saying that I was out of the band that I busted my ass my whole life to fucking create, you know?

“It was the weirdest fucking thing. I can’t imagine just sending Corey or Shawn or Mick a fucking letter, without a band meeting. We’re friends and we’ve been through so much shit together, but that was all it was, a fucking letter. That’s exactly what happened and it was hurtful, man. I didn’t deserve that shit after what I’d done and everything I’d been through.”

In light of revelations about his state of health at the time, it does seem an unusually abrupt way to bring such a longstanding partnership to an end. Joey even claims to have written and demoed a batch of new material, aided by Slipknot’s then-touring bassist Donnie Steele, and circulated it among his bandmates in an attempt to get the compositional ball rolling. But, according to the drummer, no one got back to him to discuss the new songs: subtle evidence, perhaps, that wires were distinctly crossed.

“They got confused about my health issues, and obviously even I didn’t know what it was at first,” Joey sighs. “They thought I was fucked-up on drugs, which I wasn’t at all. I don’t blame them for being concerned, but when you’re friends and you’ve been through so much stuff, you fucking talk to each other. But I harbour no bad feelings toward them at all, because I’ve moved on with my life. I’m happier than I’ve been in years. You need to move on, close the fucking chapter and, in the end, it is what it is.”

It is a testament to the positive way Joey has endeavoured to overcome his severe health problems that today, even after having been unceremoniously ejected from one of the biggest metal bands on the planet, he is hearteningly sanguine about the way things have turned out.

During our conversation, he repeatedly declares how grateful he is for the friends, family and life that he has, and even when discussing the end of his tenure as Slipknot’s drummer, he is eager to state how much he still loves and admires his former bandmates. What is perhaps more surprising is that Joey not only made a point of checking out .5: The Gray Chapter, the album Slipknot made without him and released in 2014, but is also effusive in his praise for it.

“Honestly, I have a long history with those guys, so I give them the respect they deserve and I listened to the whole record multiple times,” he smiles. “And I think it’s great! It’s fucking cool and I’m glad they moved on. I’m not like, ‘I’m not gonna give them respect!’ – I’m not a coward like that. I’m glad they’re carrying on the name, because what’s important is the fans. There’s no stupid battle going on. There’s no point in saying, ‘Fuck them!’

“No, I’ve been through so many things with those guys and I love them very much. What’s hurtful is that the way it [being fired] went down was not fucking right. That’s all I want to say. The way they did it was fucking cowardly. It was fucked up. But the love in my heart for those guys, that stays the same.”

It is at this point that Metal Hammer asks the inevitable and unavoidable question: despite everything that has happened, would Joey be willing to rejoin Slipknot further down the line? As much as his successor, Jay Weinberg, has acquitted himself brilliantly while filling the shoes of a contemporary drumming legend, it’s hard to deny that most Slipknot fans would be beside themselves with joy if Joey were to return to the fold. He takes a deep, measured inward breath and fixes us with a stern stare…

“Let me think about how to answer that, because it’s a big one,” he nods. “Honestly, I’m not trying to be dramatic, but if that was brought up, what I’d want to do would be to get together. Not just have a phone call or some stupid email. I’d want to see them, just hug it out and feel that energy that we had when we were fucking young and hungry and all that shit. They’re my brothers. We’d hug and talk and do shit like we used to do. We used to sit up all night long planning this shit and what we wanted to do. So that’s how I’d wanna do it. It’d have to be in person. If it happened, that would be fucking awesome, but only time will tell.”

Part Three - Rebirth

Back in the here and now, Joey Jordison is well on his way to being fighting fit once again. His recovery is still ongoing, of course, and daily trips to see his trainer at the local gym have now become an essential part of his day-to-day schedule, but as he speaks, he radiates sincere positivity. That said, the effort it has taken Joey to get from suddenly and horrifyingly being robbed of the use of his legs to a point where he is able to unveil two brand new albums with different bands is etched into his subtly expressive face.

He and better half Amanda have kept a detailed scrapbook of photos and other memorabilia from the long, hard road back from the onset of transverse myelitis. They allow us to leaf through it, and it brings the jarring reality of Joey’s last few years vividly to life. It’s a litany of woes, pain and frustration that many of us would regard as insurmountable, but even when faced with yet another grim obstacle, when he fell and broke his leg while in the studio recording Vimic’s debut album in the autumn of 2014, leading to his leg being cut in half and the insertion of steel rods and bolts, Joey’s determination to prevail and come back stronger than ever has been unwavering.

“I did question everything, like, ‘What am I going to do?’, not knowing if I was going to recover,” he admits. “It hurt a lot. It was a big question. But there was a definite point where I thought about all the blessings I’ve been given in life, being part of Slipknot and playing with Korn and Ministry and Rob Zombie and doing Roadrunner United and all those things, and you look at that and you’re grateful, and so you bust your ass to get back. I didn’t feel sorry for myself. I do not quit. I’ve got fans I’ve got to take care of, you know? So there’s no hiding right now.”

If you want to know what the opposite of hiding sounds like, you need only lend an ear to either or both of the new records that Joey is releasing this summer. The first is Echoes Of The Tortured, the debut album from Sinsaenum, Joey’s collaboration with Dragonforce’s Frédéric Leclercq and a host of underground luminaries. A monstrous but eminently accessible death metal record, its jaw-shattering eruptions of blastbeats and epic fury showcase the full extent of Joey’s physical recovery in no uncertain terms.

The second is Open Your Omen, the first album from Vimic, which is essentially Scar The Martyr with a new vocalist, former Korn percussionist and back-up singer Kalen Chase. It’s a sharper, more focused record than its (sort of) predecessor, planting Joey firmly back in belligerent mainstream metal territory, with plenty of the huge hooks and irresistible riffs that his loyal fans will be feverishly anticipating. But beyond the new music itself, Joey’s true focus is on the unparalleled joy he is currently experiencing as he escapes the nightmare of the last few years and returns to what he does best.

“This is a rebirth, and reaching this point is the ultimate reward,” he states. “It’s like having the ultimate trophies, having these two bands. These opportunities are coming back to me and it feels like a complete renewal. These are real bands, not side-projects. Everything I do goes at 100%… maybe even 666%, ha ha!

“At a certain age, a lot of people] become vegetarians or they find religion, but I’m never gonna stop being a fucking weirdo and a fucking metalhead! You wake up one day and you realise that nothing’s ever gonna change and you’re fucking committed. I’ve been like that since I was five years old, man.

“Right now, I just want to keep creating. These bands are two huge fucking journeys for me. It’s like when you see a rollercoaster that you’ve never ridden before, and you’re fucking scared, but you’re in line and waiting, like I am now, and then once you step on? You’re in!”

There are a few lessons to be learned from the story of Joey Jordison’s last few traumatic years. Firstly, maybe we should all be slightly less eager to jump to hasty conclusions when faced with only one side of a story (or, indeed, no verified information whatsoever). Secondly, never underestimate the strength, persistence, passion and potential of the human spirit.

“The most pertinent lesson of all, however, is one we all should have learned a long time ago: Joey Jordison is an unstoppable force of nature and, after fighting the toughest battle of his entire life, he’s primed and ready to make up for lost time and to remind the world that loud, angry, fucked up and furious music remains the best medicine of all.

“I have this weird-ass condition, but it doesn’t limit me and I’m getting better all the time,” he concludes with a confident grin. “I can play just as fast, or faster, than I ever have. Everything is fucking cool and I’m at the gym every day and it’s all going well. That helps me out so much.

“I went through some serious fucking shit. People didn’t know and I can’t blame them for that. But the thing is, you get up in the morning and you look in the mirror, and then you go off and fucking do it. You live your life the way you want to, and get the work done! What else can I say, dude? It’s good to tell my story. I’m fucking back and I’m ready to go full force. This is the best fucking job in the world. I’m never gonna stop.”

What Is Transverse Myelitis?

We spoke to Lew Gray, secretary of UK charity the Transverse Myelitis Society, to understand what Joey’s batling…

Can you explain what the condition means? Lew: “Transverse myelitis is an inflammation of the spinal cord. You have a lot of nerves doing different things in your spinal cord, so the facts of each case depend on which part of the spinal cord is affected. It can be high in the spinal cord affecting the arms, or you may struggle to breathe because the muscles in your lungs don’t work. It could be lower, affecting different sensory nerves. Some people with transverse myelitis can walk but can’t feel the floor beneath their feet, or they can’t feel hot and cold or pain. We think there are about 250 cases a year in the UK.”

Does it typically come on quickly or is it more of a gradual process? “It can be either. A lot of people are paralysed within an hour or two. But then for other people it can be very gradual and come and go over a period of months. It takes some people years to get a diagnosis.”

What treatment is available? “Really, the only treatment is to dose you with steroids. They will reduce the inflammation, and therefore you’re not curing it, you’re minimising the damage until it goes away by itself. Physiotherapy is very important. Almost everyone gets some spontaneous recovery over time after transverse myelitis, but the body and mind ‘forget’ how to use muscles and nerves that are not working, so the purpose of neurophysiotherapy is to ‘guide’ the recovery.”

What is the long-term prognosis for someone with transverse myelitis? “The nerves are capable of regenerating themselves. Nobody can predict though how well they will regenerate, how long it will take, or if they will at all. The majority of people get improvement, but there is no cast-iron guarantee.”

How common are relapses? “We do know people who have had recurrences, however that is rare. Sometimes a reoccurrence of transverse myelitis leads to a diagnosis of MS [multiple sclerosis].”

For more on the Transverse Myelitis Society, visit www.myelitis.org.uk

Beating The Odds

How Joey Jordison fought his way back from paralysis to prosperity

The full extent of Joey’s arduous battle with acute transverse myelitis is brought into sharp focus when we visit Absolute Performance Therapy in Waukee, Des Moines. Joey spent months here, working on his recovery, and the mere fact that today he is able to walk through the front door without assistance speaks volumes about what he has achieved. His therapist, Alyssa Subbert, has nothing but praise for his determined approach.

“Being stubborn helped the most!” she laughs. “To go from being someone who could do anything to not being able to get out of a chair, then to get back to being able to do everything again, it was a huge process. He wanted to drum again so bad, and as long as we made every exercise about drumming, he’d do it. He was very stubborn and very ornery, but he’d work and work until his body was too sore.”

Gruelling physical work aside, it is obvious that Joey’s time at APT was also hugely emotional. He hasn’t been back since finishing his treatment, and there are tears as he and Alyssa recall the intense therapy sessions and ferocious perseverance and teamwork that were needed to make each successive triumph a reality along the way.

“This was a huge wake-up call to Joey’s health and lifestyle, and how physical his job is,” Alyssa states. “When you’ve done something like that forever, you have no concept of it. He has to play in a drum set that rotates and goes upside down?! It’s not a regular job, sitting at a computer. We even practised mobbing him! Does he have balance when a whole bunch of people mob him, you know? It’s a whole different life, and very physical. So this was a completely unique process we went through.”

Joey’s physical therapy may be over, but his daily trips to local gym Life Time Athletic are an essential part of his recovery, not to mention his ability to play drums with the power and skill that fans have come to expect. His personal trainer, Caleb Herman, is a Slipknot fan who’s full of admiration for his client’s dedication.

“When Joey came in, he could hardly walk,” Caleb recalls. “Now he’s pressing 700lbs and he can do a step above what most people can do. He’s got one of the strongest back muscle groups I’ve ever seen. He couldn’t stand without help, but now he can stand up by himself, so his progress has been awesome. When he sees progress, he becomes motivated, and he tells me he gets the chills, and that gives me the chills. It’s really exciting to see him get to this point.”

Battle Of The Bands

After a long absence from our world, Joey’s returning with two new projects. But how do Vimic and Sinsaenum stack up against each other?

Vimic

Members: Joey Jordison (drums), Kalen Chase (vocals), Matt Tarach (keyboards), Jed Simon (guitar), Kyle Konkiel (bass). Sound: Crunchy, state-of-the-art modern metal with big, anthemic melodies and plenty of snotty aggression. Image: Lots of black leather, long hair, beards and menacing scowls. Sample lyric: ‘Simple skeletons, playing God again/We’re getting higher, we’re getting higher, and the truth will set us free’ (Simple Skeletons). Drumming: Lashings of classic Joey, from that Slipknot stomp and big, muscular grooves to bursts of high-velocity blasting. Joey says: “Scar The Martyr was the blueprint, but we wiped the slate clean. This is heavy shit. Kalen killed it on this record.” For fans of: Slipknot, Disturbed, Fear Factory. Check out: Earth Stood Still. Lurching, syncopated grooves and soaring, post-grunge melodies collide in a brutish, multi-tempo anthem that deftly showcases singer Kalen’s versatility.

Sinsaenum

Members: Joey Jordison (drums), Frédéric Leclercq (guitar), Heimoth (bass), Attila Csihar (vocals), Sean Zatorsky (vocals), Stéphane Buriez (guitar). Sound: Epic, imperious, blackened death metal with tons of eerie atmosphere. Image: Classic, dark, extreme metal attitude with a dash of theatrical corpse paint and a blood-splattered logo. Sample lyric: ‘We are the pain inside your head/We are the sorrow in your soul/We are the fire/We are the rusty nails’ (Army Of Chaos). Drumming: A masterclass in death metal precision and power. Proof that Joey is back and blazing. Joey says: “Sinsaenum is probably one of the most extreme and proficient bands I have ever been in. These guys are fucking on point at all times. We’re a fucking army!” For fans of: Morbid Angel, Dimmu Borgir, Behemoth. Check out: Inverted Cross. It’s blistering, heads-down death metal grandeur with anti-Christian lyrics, fret-melting solos and countless warped twists and turns.

Sin City

As well as making his comeback with Vimic, Joey Jordison’s taken up the drum stool for death metal project Sinsaenum. Mastermind and Dragonforce bassist Frédéric Leclercq explains how it came thundering to life

Words: Dayal Patterson

While Vimic represents a beefed-up reboot of Scar The Martyr, Joey’s also been behind the kit for a second, brand new band - Sinsaenum. The brainchild of Dragonforce bassist Frédéric Leclercq, it’s a more murky blend of death and black metal, featuring the twosome alongside some of the leading lights of the extreme scene, including dual vocals from Mayhem’s Attila Csihar and Dååth’s Sean Zatorsky. We asked Frédéric what the supergroup have planned for their dark future.

How did Sinsaenum first come about? Frédéric: “Oh Christ, even I have trouble remembering when it started! I always wrote death metal songs. I started to write in 1998, then I was doing something else [he played in the French bands Memoria and Heavenly], and I’m still doing something else, with Dragonforce. The first person I spoke to was Stéphane [Buriez, guitar] from Loudblast. It must’ve been in 2010 that we said, ‘Let’s really do something about it.’”

How did Joey get involved? “I kept writing more songs, and one day in 2013 I got a text from Joey. We call each other ‘Morbid Angel” – don’t ask why – so the text said, ‘Morbid Angel, what you up to?’ I was like, ‘Well, I just got back from tour… talking about Morbid Angel, I have these death metal songs.’ He was like, ‘You should send them to me!’ Two days later, he came back like, ‘Fuck yeah, that’s really cool. Who’s playing drums? I want to do it.’ So I started to ask more people that I had in mind.”

How did you guys meet? “We did the Mayhem tour together in the US, in 2008. One day drinking we were talking about death metal, and then we got to talking about it more and more. That’s how you get to know people – you find what you have in common. We had drinking and Morbid Angel.”

What about the other guys? “Stéphane I’ve known for 20 years. I played in a band in my hometown, Charleville-Mézières, and we supported his band, Loudblast. They were a big influence, and the first death metal band I heard. We kept in touch because France is a small country when it comes to metal. With [bassist] Heimoth from [French black metal band] Seth, it’s the same – there’s a small metal community. Dragonforce and Mayhem did a festival together, and Attila came onto the bus and said: ‘My son is a fan and would love an autograph – by the way, I’m the vocalist of Mayhem.’ He’s such a nice person – maybe you shouldn’t write that, keep the mystery! Sean and I met when Dååth was opening for Dragonforce in 2009. I really liked his voice and his attitude.”

How much music was written before you started working with them? “When Joey sent that text, all the songs were half-written, because I’ve a tendency to write a song with just a verse and a chorus, maybe a mid-section, because I know the rest is in my head. So when he said, ‘I’m interested,’ I was like, ‘Oh shit, I have to finish the songs!’ I sent out files, because it was clear that people trusted my ‘vision’. They didn’t want to change too much. I had to finalise lyrics with Sean and Attila, and Stéphane contributed to the structure. Joey added some fills. I decided to make it a concept album using interludes like Tiamat, or Pestilence, or even Type O Negative did to create atmosphere, so I had to write those.”

What was it like working with your heroes? “I felt like a kid in a toy store! Being in a studio with Attila singing songs that I wrote, and saying, ‘Oh, you should do this song like [Mayhem’s] De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, and him being like, [adopts a Hungarian accent] ‘OK bro’, it’s like ‘Fuck, this is happening!’ I shouldn’t sound so excited, ‘cause this is black and death metal, but I had a big smile during the whole process – we all did. On Army Of Chaos we have Schmier from Destruction and Mika and Mirai from Sigh. Mika and Mirai are good friends of mine and are doing the big choirs, the choruses… like Sepultura’s Stronger Than Hate [from 1989’s Beneath The Remains]. I remember reading the booklet as a kid… they had the guys from Obituary and Atheist on it, and I was like, ‘Fuck, that’s cool.’ And it’s Schmier who’s singing on the last pre-chorus.

Did Joey’s health battles affect Sinsaenum? “Not at all. He speaks about it way better than I, so I won’t comment on that. I’ve kept away from all the troubles. I was like, ‘I’m a friend. If you want to talk, I’ll listen, but I just want to make sure you’re happy.’ As far as health problems, he was fine – he killed the drums. I don’t know how he did it, but he said, ‘Dude, I’m on fire.’ He was angry, I guess.”

Will Sinsaenum tour? “It’s definitely something we want to do, but there’s no rush. I want to do everything the same way I lived it as a kid. These bands I loved, I loved their albums, but I didn’t see them live for a long time and it didn’t bother me. I want people to digest the album – there’s a lot of information on there. Plus, we’re all busy; it’s difficult to get us all in a room. We rehearsed before doing the videos, and being in the same room, it was like, ‘Fucking hell.��”

What’s happening with Dragonforce right now? “We’re doing summer festivals and writing the new album that will come out next year, so I have to juggle between doing Sinsaenum stuff and writing and recording with Dragonforce. So my head is about to explode, but that’s fine!”

What do you get from Sinsaenum that you don’t get with Dragonforce? “This is really the music I love. I like Dragonforce stuff, and I write more of it now, but sometimes I don’t agree with all the decisions. With Sinsaenum, from A to Z it is exactly what I want. I guess it’s my baby. It gives me a way to express the dark side of myself and show it to people – if they care or not, that’s another issue!”

Sinsaenum release Echoes Of The Tortured on July 29 via Earmusic

#after ten thousand years here it is #if you want anything else from this issue scanned just lemme know (there's already a couple other pages in the google drive folder)#joey jordison #sinsaenum #vimic #slipknot #metal hammer 285 aug 16 #those photos with the black stuff dripping down his face are truly egregious i am incredibly gay why would metal hammer do this to me #why not give us pictures of all the cats huh??#like yaknow instead of his leg with all the stitches. the other four cats. just sayin #fred is so ae;gihas;kdf;h #interview

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sir-adamus · 1 year ago

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whenever i think of Ironwood's 'grand plan' after he gets spooked by a piece from a board game i always have to laugh because it was never gonna work, it was unsustainable from jump and only got progressively more unfeasible as volume 8 progressed

"we're going to use the staff to lift Atlas into the atmosphere where Grimm can't reach and leave everyone in Mantle to rot because if the poors didn't want to die they should've been born with money like the rest of us"

yeah cool bro, so given what we (finally) see of Atlas in volume 8 they've got some atmospheric control to accommodate for the temperature and presumably thinner air at the height Atlas is already floating at

and what powers that again? right, Dust. cos Dust powers everything

and you would have to assume that to maintain the current level of atmospheric control in a much higher altitude, that machinery would have to be cranked well the fuck up, which means more Dust is needed. and they can't mine for more because... they're up in the atmosphere, and their supply chain and underpaid exploited labourers got left to die on the ground

so power's gonna run out real fast and everyone's gonna suffocate and die slowly (guess Jimmy really wants to beat out Mountain Glenn on 'World's Largest Tomb')

but let's say by some miracle they do last longer than a week up there - food's gonna run out and they're not gonna be able to keep up supply and demand because they can't import any, supply chain is gone and they abandoned the rest of the planet to die to Salem. hell, water is gonna run out

and then the most ridiculous argument for the plan "Grimm can't fly that high". cos like. no. Grimm don't fly that high, because they don't need to. none of y'all were up there. just like none of y'all lived in the snowy tundras of the north so there weren't Grimm up there. until there were - funny how that works. and Salem's specifically been shown to be able to alter the Grimm without much issue - this wouldn't be a "one day the Grimm will adapt and fly that high" it's "give Salem maybe an hour and she'll make something that can get that high"

so yeah, the whole plan is stupid and it's basically just handing Salem the Staff because all she would have to do is wait out everyone dying from lack of air and then just going up there and taking the damn thing (and then dropping Atlas and causing mass devastation on a global scale)

and then volume 8 makes it worse - the shields go down and Monstra gets parked on Atlas. the plan was dead right there, she's already on the goddamn rock my dude - if you lift the rock now then she's still going to be on it and you will die even faster than you were already going to; like even after Oscar blew up Monstra and Salem was reforming, The Coward in Chief wasn't making any effort to scrape her off the side of Atlas before leaving, he just went back to making threats (which included the baffling logic of "Penny, unless you give yourself up now, i am going to blow up Mantle, and then you won't have any reason to not do what i say anymore anyway" as if Penny wouldn't have justifiable reason to decapitate him for doing that)

'the great general Ironwood' who grew up and came into power in peace time - strategically unsound, incapable of taking criticism and dumber than a bag of hammers

what a hero

#RWBY #if there's a lesson to be learned from this #it's that Jimmy's a dumbass #couldn't be trusted with a bag of cupcakes let alone a kingdom

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

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Rockstar AU, 38, Jack. (Because I’m nothing if not loyal to my Pedro boy.)

THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE very tempted to write more of this ngl thank you for requesting!!

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓

pairing: jack daniels x fem!reader

genre: rockstar au + making out as a distraction, smut

word count: 515

summary: You're a music journalist that's assigned to interview a notoriously difficult rockstar. Things don't go as planned.

warnings: heavy make out, making our backstage, dry humping

It was supposed to be easy. You were constantly praised for your silver tongue, for your ability to get the juiciest information from these stubborn rockstars. Even the ones who refused to talk. You would place a hand on their knee and make them feel like they had a friend. They were lucky you weren’t an inherently bad person. Because some of the things these people confessed to you—whew—they are very lucky indeed. You used your powers for good. With great power comes great responsibility.

You weren’t surprised when the editor-in-chief asked you to interview the infamous Jack Daniels—ridiculous name you know— sales were down, and having him on the cover would be an excellent boost. His words, not yours.

It was supposed to be easy. You heard the news about him and his wife, may her soul rest in piece. No one really knew what actually happened. Jack’s manager doing everything they could to keep it under the radar. A funeral was held. Jack disappeared for two years. He snapped at every journalist that dared to reach out to him…you liked those odds.

So why, after half an hour of trying to get this man to talk, do you have his tongue shoved down your throat backstage?

He smells like leather. And a sharp cologne assaults your nostrils. His tongue licks over yours hungrily, his lips melting into yours. Your hands are lost for a moment, not knowing where to hold, after a moment or two, you place them above his shoulder, awkwardly gripping his leather jacket. His thigh pushes between your legs. Without thinking your grind down. Arousal pools between your legs, your underwear feeling uncomfortable and sticky as it rubs against the sensitive folds.

His fingers curl around your neck, he doesn’t squeeze, just holds them there. It feels nice.

“Not so talkative now, are you sweet thing?” he purrs, lips brushing your cheek. You shudder at his warm breath wetly fanning across your skin. “Coming here all high and mighty…treating me like a darn wounded animal. Well, sugar, I ain’t wounded.”

He thrusts up his thigh, the pleasure raking over your skin like cold rain. A whine parts your lips when he flexes the muscle underneath you, your pussy clenching around on nothing. Jack drags his lips down your neck and kisses where it connect with your shoulder. Your nipples tighten under the fabric of your shirt. Yoru entire body singing for him you suck them, pinch them—your nails bite into the leather. Your world is spinning out of control.

“I’ll give you two options, darlin’,” he mutters, blowing a puff of air that chills the wet spot he’d kissed. “Either I answer your trivia questions, or—” he grins, guiding your hips into a slow grind. You moan into his neck. “I make you come. Your choice.”

You don’t even remember the questions you were supposed to ask.

#jack daniels x you #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels au #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #kingsman golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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sunnylands-world · 1 year ago

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Western boy

Pairing: cowboy Harry styles x fem reader

Summary: your little crush on your father's best friend finally turns into what you always wanted it to...

Word count: 1,186

Warnings: oral [fem receiving], unprotected p in v [don't be dump please], dirty talk, tummy bulge kink, breeding kink, age gap, western themes

A/n: I don't know if I have any readers for Harry styles but here's this fic again because I deleted it

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You and your friend were taking a stroll to the market in your town. The dust of the desert seemed to blow heavily despite the heat that scorched your skin; your boots looked like your father hadn't taken them to get a decent scrub in a while and your hat sat tilted on your head protecting your eyes from the rays of the sun.

"dear God [name], how much farther I honestly think I'll melt if I have to take another step!" your friend groaned and you chuckled. "It's a beautiful day out daisy, I think it's perfect for a walk. You act as if you ain't walked a day in your life." you called back to her. "But you're father's the sheriff! surely we could have gotten a ride, why ever didn't you ask." She whined and you rolled your eyes.

Your father was indeed the sheriff, people in town considered you a daddy's girl who was spoiled despite the fact that you hadn't been seen bathing in the finest things. You took a few steps before familiar brown leather boots on horseback caught your eye and a small smile came to your face. "My, my if it isn't the chief's little girl" his voice said as the sound of horseshoes came in closer, stopping you in your tracks. "Hello to you Mr. Styles" you said looking at him.

Harry was your father's best friend, you practically grew up with him in your life; his hair was cut nicely though you did miss the long locks under his brown cowboy hat. His smirk spread wide as he shamelessly looked you over, you bit your lip thinking about how much he'd done that lately. "I must say, you've grown up to be a fine young lady. Pretty as a flower!" he praises and you shyly smile. "You're not too bad yourself Harry" you complimented and there was no lie in your words.

Harry was at least in his late 30's or early 40's and he definitely aged a lot better than most men out here, he looked like he was a favorite of the lord's with his brown curls and shimmering green eyes and his facial hair suited him deliciously might you add. "Shouldn't go around telling a man like me somethin like that doll, I might just think you're offering me something" he breathed out, letting his eyes linger a while on your open top showing your perky breasts.

"Maybe I am styles" you challenged. "Don't go making promises you can't keep" he mumbled and you locked eyes with him. "I ain't making promises styles, I'm offering" you say and your eyes are genuine. He smirks. "Go home daisy, I'm taking your friend for a ride" he says, reaching his hand out for you to climb up the brown horse.

Your friend huffs heading for the stairs of the nearest place for alcohol and you cling to Harry's back as you ride to his home.

—----------------------------------------------------------

Your back rested on the queen size bed as Harry knelt down between your legs that were bent upwards so he could lap at your dripping cunt. Your dress was long gone and your hands grabbed handfuls of your breasts as you lost yourself in the pleasure of the older man. "You taste as sweet as pie doll, dripping your sweet juices for me" Harry said, as he let his tongue thrust into you.

"Oh God Harry" you cried out, bucking your hips up chasing your high desperately, his nose bumped your clit with every jerk of your waist and his stubble scratched an itch you never knew you had. "That's it doll, cum for me, make a mess" he says, dipping his tongue deeply into you, licking at your soft walls assaulting the sensitive area between your legs. You followed his order like the good girl you were drenching him with shouts of his name. He didn't stop slurping and sucking till he gathered every last drop of your release.

He stood with his knees now between your thighs, leaning forward kissing your forehead gently. "You still with me sugar?" He asked, seeing your lashes flutter a bit but you nodded. "Still with you Harry" you uttered softly, hazy from your first orgasm. "I'm gonna fill you up sweetness, you okay with that. Want me to stuff you full" he confirmed, his little comment at the end only made you all the more eager for him. "Yess Harry, please" you begged, dry humping his jeans.

He let out a chuckle, pulling at the loop of his belt that was adored with all his many gadgets. You couldn't help but look as he freed his cock. It leaked precum from the swollen red tip, his size was at least a good six or seven inches and you almost shut your legs as you thought of how something so big would fit inside you. He came forward rubbing the head of his length between your wet folds teasing your entrance.

"Please don't tease me Harry," you pleaded far to in need of fulfilling your fantasies. "Since you asked so nicely" he said, driving his cock deep in your tight wet opening, your head went back into his pillows as you felt him touch the spot deepest inside you. "Oh my goodness Harry!" You called into the room as he began to move in a back and forth motion, his hands pressing your legs to your chest; the bed rocking against the wall.

"Would you look at that, my cocks deep in your little tummy" he said letting one of your legs go causing you to grab it as he pressed his hand down where his cock was supposedly visible. You leaned up on your elbows to look and sure enough a bulge was there in the place his hand was. Your eyes went wide as you moved your own hand to take the place of his while he rutted into you, you looked up to his now forest green eyes.

"God, that's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. You looking all innocent while I take you like a little whore" he mumbles, his head falling back as he quickens his paces. "Wanna fill this pussy up with my cum, get ya nice and round with babies." He says, his country accent is clear as day. "That's what ya want sweetness?" He asks looking back at you, you hold eye contact with him nodding.

"Please Harry, need it" you whine rolling your hips and that seems to be what pushes him over the edge as he fills you with warm cum triggering your second climax of the night.."holy fuck doll take it fucking take my cock" he moans with his legs trembling as he falls forward baring his head in your neck, sweaty chest pressed to yours.

You kiss his neck tenderly while you cum on his cock with your own words of nonsense. You don't even think about the reaction your father will have while you snuggle closer to Harry with him still deep in you.

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#harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x actress!yn #harry styles x pregnant!reader #harry styles x singer!reader #harry x reader #cowboy #smut

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mxtxfanatic · 1 year ago

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Gossip Following the First Siege (and Where They Are Directly Debunked)

1st Lie:

“Rejoice, rejoice! Say, which hero dealt the finishing blow to the Yiling Laozu?”

“Who else could it be? His shidi, Chief Jiang Cheng of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan!

–Chapt. 1: Rebirth, fanyiyi

Debunked:

“But that’s not what I heard. I thought one of his evil tricks backfired and he was shredded to pieces by those ghosts of his. Some say that they bit and tore at him so viciously that by the end of it, his body was no more than a slurry of flesh and bone dust.”

–Chapt. 1: Rebirth, fanyiyi

“Jiang Cheng, Clan Chief Jiang, brought people to encircle and besiege the Burial Mounds. He killed you, sir.”

“I have to clarify this. He didn’t kill me. I died because one of my techniques backfired.”

–Chapt. 43: Beauty I, fanyiyi

2nd Lie:

“Exactly! He thoroughly deserved it! If the Jiang Clan hadn’t taken him in and raised him, that Wei Ying would have spent his whole life as a worthless vagrant. What else is there to say? The old Chief Jiang raised him like his own son, yet he betrayed them and made an enemy of everyone. Not only did he humiliate the Jiang Sect, he killed nearly all of the Jiang Clan! He’s the definition of an ungrateful, treacherous bastard!”

–Chapt. 1: Rebirth, fanyiyi

Debunked:

Wei Wuxian was the son of a servant of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, Wei Changze, and a wandering cultivator, Cangse Sanren. Jiang Fengmian and his wife were both close acquaintances of his mother and father, but Jiang Fengmian had never reminisced about his old friend in front of Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian’s wife, Yu Ziyuan, had never been interested in having a conversation with him at all. If she didn’t whip him a few times and tell him to get out, kneel at the ancestral shrine, and keep far away from Jiang Cheng, he already considered that pretty good.

–Chapt. 29: Morning Dew II, fanyiyi

Jiang Fengmian nodded, “Well done.”

[Wei Wuxian] was able to kill a four-hundred-year-old beast at the mere age of seventeen. It was much more than a ‘well-done’.

–Chapt. 56: Poisons, exr

Jiang FengMian stared into his eyes. Suddenly, he reached out. Only after pausing in the air did he finally touch Jiang Cheng’s head, slowly, “A-Cheng, be well.”

Wei WuXian, “Uncle Jiang, if anything happens to you, he won’t be well.”

Jiang FengMian turned his eyes to him, “A-Ying, A-Cheng... you must look after him.” ... In his heart, Jiang Cheng knew clearly that back in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter at Dusk-Creek Mountain, even if Wei WuXian hadn’t saved Lan WangJi, the Wen Sect would have found some reason to come over sooner or later. But he had always felt that, if the whole thing with Wei WuXian didn’t happen, maybe it wouldn’t have been so soon, maybe there would’ve been some way to turn things around.

—Chapt. 58: Poisons, exr

3rd Lie:

“Not only that, Jiang Cheng tolerated that arrogant, up-jumped servant for ages... Even if you grew up with them and loved them like a brother, you can’t show people like him any mercy. ”

–Chapt. 1: Rebirth, fanyiyi

Debunked:

Chapter 13: Elegance III – Chapter 18: Elegance VIII, fanyiyi (no I will NOT be writing down every instance of storm cloud Jiang Cheng appearing to darken Wei Wuxian’s mood in the Cloud Recesses arc. Too many quotes; you gotta read it yourself)

Gradually, [Wei Wuxian] grew deathly frightened of all manner of dogs, big or small, and had endured no small amount of Jiang Cheng’s mockery for it.

–Chapt. 20: Sunshine II, fanyiyi

Not a single lenient or merciful word left Jiang Cheng’s mouth if he could help it, nor was he ever willing to offer charity and kindness.

–Chapt. 23: Malice I, fanyiyi

4th Lie:

“...Don’t you remember when he annihilated more than 3,000 high level cultivators?”

“Wasn’t it 5,000?”

–Chapt. 1: Rebirth, fanyiyi

Debunked: here

5th Lie:

“It just goes to show that cultivators have to stay on the proper path. Taking up demonic cultivation, ‘free spirit,’ pah! Sounds to me like he was arrogant and egomaniacal. Heh, and what was the result?”...

...“But it wasn’t only demonic cultivation that killed him. At the end of the day, it was also his horrible personality and rotten character...”

–Chapt. 1: Rebirth, fanyiyi

Debunked:

“Aye, this Wei Wuxian...back in the day he was a promising cultivator from a good background, and not without high merits. When he was young—what a glorious, free spirit! ...”

–Chapt. 1: Rebirth, fanyiyi

In [Wei Wuxian’s] previous life, because he couldn’t let people chatter on about how he hadn’t been brought up properly, there were certain limits on how far he could take his mischief.

–Chapt. 3: Feral II, fanyiyi

Wei Wuxian had always considered himself protective and caring of women, so seeing her state, he moved to create space for her and went to bother the donkey.

–Chapt. 6: Pride I, fanyiyi

Even if the Yiling Laozu’s reputation was bad, people had to admit that prior to Wei Wuxian’s defection from the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, he had been famous far and wide for being a gorgeous man, cultured, sophisticated, and proficient in all the arts of a gentleman. Among the young masters of all the clans of cultivation, his appearance and personality were considered the fourth best, and he was described as “bright, clever, and full of life”...

–Chapt. 10: Pride V, fanyiyi

#human reads mdzs: take 2 #don’t know why i never posted this

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lifestealupdates · 13 days ago

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Lifesteal Season 6, Week 18 Recap

Little late this week, sorry! Lifesteal CCs DNI. Spoilers under the cut.

Trial Chambers and God Apples

Pangi, Derapchu and SB have made a plan to do every trial chamber in the world border in order to get god apples.

They then are breaking the vaults so no-one else can use them.

The Empire

In the November 2nd session, they revealed they have 'big plans' but will need to wait to complete them until Minute can be active again (likely in January).

For now, their main focus is getting hearts.

In the next session, Spoke managed to die twice including once to cacti, and got a curse of binding pumpkin stuck on his head.

Chief has been working on traps, so far unsuccessfully.

Team PE

Pentar has admitted he doesn't 100% trust ECorridor.

He realised while editing his most recent video that some things don't add up.

Hannah and Kaboodle

Hannah has stated in call with other Lifesteal members that she doesn't trust Kaboodle completely, as she feels that Kab shares all of her secrets.

Spawn Griefing

Earlier this week, Zam, Mapicc and Minute managed to successfully kill Wemmbu.

After Minute and Mapicc logged off, Flame and Manepear logged on, and after talking to Zam and Wemmbu at spawn the three began to blow up spawn again.

He attempted to use the arrow canon on them, but forgot to mute his mic and they realised something was wrong and fled.

They fought again and Zam died.

Zam, Kaboodle and Spawn

After spending some time earlier in the week tormenting Zam and drawing parallels between herself and joker!Zam, the griefing of spawn made Kab realise they were far more similar to Zam than they thought.

This made Kaboodle create a 'company' called 'Karma's Law', as she cannot publicly admit she cares about spawn and the people for fear of it being used against her.

Karma's Law will attempt to keep balance on the server by restoring damage and heart count.

She blew up Flame's volcano in retaliation for spawn, and created a shulker of gear for Zam, however Pangi found it and renamed it, pretending it was from him.

Kab caught him doing this, and he and Derapchu killed them.

Kab and SB then tried to trap them, but it failed and Kab died again.

Karma's law contrasts with Zam's own goals of keeping the server functional.

Later, Mapicc and Zam wanted to 2v1 Manepear, and convinced him to come to spawn using Kab as bait. Mane targeted Kab in the fight until she fled, then Mane called in Pentar to help and Mapicc and Zam had to run.

They later created a sort of alliance between Mapicc, Zam, Kab, Bacon, Spoke and Minute against Manepear.

Kab gave Zam five hearts so he could fight Mane, Flame and Pentar.

In the ensuing fight, Zam and Mapicc died.

Kab wanted to give Zam gear and let him keep one of the hearts but he refused, causing conflict between them.

Zam's refusal to keep the gear is because his ability to provide for himself is one of the few things he feels he can offer on Lifesteal. He sees himself in Kab and has hated seeing himself in other people since Jumper's betrayal.

Later, they spoke again about him refusing the gear. She compared his Oath to her Laws of Karma, but he thinks that basing everything on statistics is stupid when everyone acts because of emotions.

They spoke a while more about morality and Kab's issues with vulnerability.

#ls weekly recaps #lifesteal spoilers

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 10 months ago

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Lucky

Chief/Pilot House of Reckoning rewrite Because Chief Would Not Fucking Say That.

The fight ends as abruptly as it starts, not with a roar but a choked gasp. Chief doesn’t take his eyes off his enemy until he’s sure he’s down for good. Escharum goes down with a gurgled wheeze. All his grandstanding silenced by his need for a warrior's death, but in the end his own body dealt the final blow before Chief could.

If John had cared to spare the old Brute a moment's thought beyond analyzing his attacks, he may have wondered why Atriox's teacher was a paradox fighting himself every step of the way. Obsessed with power and battle prowess in the Jiralhanae tradition, but committing the sin of bolstering himself with fancy tech and hiding behind a weak human shield. It didn’t make sense. Then again, nothing on this Ring made sense, but the Master Chief had to keep going.

He did not care for the Brute or his ideas. His grandstanding was worse than the usual threats that the Demon received. He was not a respected leader or an old warrior that Chief saw himself reflected in. John made his choices and kept living, kept clawing back towards his humanity. He put the old Brute down with cold efficiency, like he had hundreds of times before with other Covenant and Banished leaders. An enemy that terrorized and hunted down his fellow UNSC soldiers, who had his troops trap and eat them, did not deserve mercy or attention.

The Brute collapses, air hissing out of his mangled throat. Escharum's last testament was silenced by his own hubris. Dooming himself to be forgotten.

The Master Chief doesn't spare him a glance and hurries to the terminal. The Weapon is already deploying herself to free their pilot from the torture device pulling him apart with micro gravity wells. A torture device he had seen used on a Spartan, enough to kill him. She signals that she's about to switch the device off, but the Master Chief is already there.

He cradles their pilot down from the dying energy field, and tries not to remember the feeling of Spartan Griffin in his arms barely two days ago. The pilot falls into his gentle hold, his breathing hitching and muscles spasming as his body adjusts to the lack of force pulling him apart. John shifts his weight as carefully as he can, fingers prodding his pulsepoint with a featherlight touch so the Mjolnir can get a read on his vitals.

"I can't-" His words stick in his throat and shudder out as he shakes violently, "I can't believe you came for me." The pilot swallows thickly. Tears well in the corners of his eyes and he looks away from his reflection in Chief's visor. He tries to wipe his face but his arms are limp and take a second to remember how to work.

John watches the tears run tracks down his cheeks and he speaks quietly. "I got you. It's over."

The pilot squirms in his hold and tries to stand, but his legs don't hold his weight. Embarrassment at his weakness and need for support makes him unsteady as he tries to avoid leaning on Chief. He hisses in pain and Chief, having never let go of his hold on him, scoops him up. The hold is as gentle as he can make it as he turns and walks them out of the Banished outpost. Footsteps steady and measured as the man sags in his arms. His pilot leans his head against Chief’s chest and shuts his eyes to the harsh reds of the room.

"Chief, the Harbinger..." The Weapon starts, quietly projecting her voice through the external mics. She wants to say more, but she busies herself in sensor data looking over the pilot.

"One thing at a time." Chief nods at her, "She- Cortana damaged this ring, we have time."

"What's going on? What now?" The pilot asks, his voice barely a whisper. He's having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"I'm getting you out of here." Chief says and the pilot slips into unconsciousness.

He comes to as he's strapped into the co-pilot seat of the pelican. He jolts awake and groans as he tenses overtaxed muscle in his panic.

"You're safe." The Master Chief tells him with a hand covering his shoulder and grounding him as he realizes where he is.

"You can fly this thing?" The words are open and unguarded and John wants to smile. The pilot spoke so openly to him when it came to things he thought Chief was doing wrong.

"Are you surprised?" The helmet tilts towards him.

"I'm surprised you still let me pilot if you could this whole time..."

"I've been told I'm not the best driver." John jokes.

The pilot is looking at him like he's lost his mind. Maybe that's what spurs Chief to share. That, and everything else they've been through.

"You asked me if I had family. I told you no." The pilot sits back in shock, but John continues, "But I do. They're out there, somewhere. My sister, Kelly, she's the better pilot. She hates my flying."

The words are stilted and honest, so much so he can feel the AI leaning against his mind despite the firewalls in place. There is no room for dishonesty and secrets in the neural interface. He's too tired to keep any more secrets for long.

"I'm going to drop you off somewhere safe, and then I'm going to finish this."

"And you'll come back?"

It shouldn't surprise him, but it does. John always seems surprised when he's reminded of what he means to people. He'd been the pilot's first human contact in a long time. They had saved each other.

"I promise."

The Master Chief leaves the pilot with the marines at FOB November, their medic looking him over.

The Master Chief goes to the Silent Auditorium, he fights, and She saves him again.

John, the man under the armor and the symbol, is tired. Another goodbye tears something inside him that will never heal right, but there’s no time to dwell. There’s never any time and he’s running again as the world collapses in on them. He had never liked depending on portals or Forerunner tech. It usually didn't end well for him. He was learning to trust again, and he keeps his promises. John has someone counting on him to make it back.

They tumble through the portal and Chief grunts as he hits solid ground. He's barely upright before the radio crackles to life.

"Chief! Your beacon just appeared out of nowhere." The pilot laughs with relief. "Oh, I thought I'd lost you. Where did you go?"

The Weapon answers for him, relief audible in her voice as well. "Echo-216? Are you okay to fly?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Listen, stay put. I'm coming to you."

And he does.

Three days have passed and his pilot, Fernando Esparza, is doing better. He'd seen the signal and jumped at the chance to retrieve them. The pelican lands and Chief is barely up the ramp into the troop bay before the pilot- Esparza is there and wrapping his arms around John.

He can't feel it, but the armor lets him know with sensors and proximity alarms. John freezes, briefly scared to move before he relaxes and drops his hands to the man's shoulders. It's not a full hug, he can feel the AI judging him for that, but it's a reciprocated touch. His gauntlets squeeze Esparza’s shoulders and the man looks up at him with a smile stretching from ear to ear.

He's tired and hungry, and now they have nothing but time. There was still work to be done, but no escalating doom beyond cleaning up Banished remnants and building the UNSC back from scratch. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

They land back at the FOB and Chief reluctantly lets the medic look him over. He reluctantly lets them celebrate his return too. People did need heroes.

It’d taken John no time at all to learn life’s harsh lessons of regret and lost time, but he was slowly learning how to keep moving forward. Learning how to stick around. The future is a terrifying thing.

The one thing Chief is beyond reluctance is having to remove his helmet to eat. He pries it off and camps out against a rock with several meals worth of MREs once the crowd disperses back to their regular duties. His pilot joins him.

Esparza looks healthier, and has no problems moving, other than some wincing as he settles on the ground across from John. They heat their meals in silence and watch the distant patrols around the far side of the lake. It’s comfortable; so far from the last few days together that it feels alien. Esparza keeps grinning and the tear inside John’s chest feels a little lighter for it. He’s alive, they’re alive. Whatever came next….he could handle it.

It’s a nice moment. Nice enough for John to do what he does whenever he likes someone enough. Ruin it.

"I could tell you were a civilian from the beginning." Chief says, breaking the silence of their previously peaceful meal. He's unbothered as he swigs some coffee out of the tin cup that's obviously not made for Spartan hands.

Esparza gapes as the Master Chief digs into his MRE. "What?"

"Marines call me 'sir', not 'Big Guy'. And they usually know better than trying to hit the armor."

John smiles at him. It's a small thing, but wide enough Fernando can make out the gap between his front teeth. It startles him out of his embarrassment for a second before he remembers the Master Chief is making a joke at his expense. "Well, maybe you would get in less trouble if people were up front with how frustrating you are!"

John huffs a breath. "Maybe."

“You are infuriating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

“Well, maybe you need to hear it more! Always going off or- or jumping out of buildings or pelicans! Without any warning!”

“I’m lucky I have you to catch me.” John says with a grin and nudges Esparza’s boot with his own.

His pilot sputters and flushes as words escape him. “You-! Oh I can’t stand when you-! Fine. You’re lucky I like you. Big Guy…” His words trail off with less fire than the start of his tirade.

John hides his smile by shoveling food into his mouth.

Esparza copies him, still fuming, but he nudges his boot against John’s in a playful push.

#my writing #Halo Infinite #Halo fanfic #chiefpilot #John 117 #Echo 216 #The Weapon

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discordiansamba · 4 days ago

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"let's go on a field trip!"

zuko arches a brow, staring at the avatar incredulously. a field trip, he repeats. but all aang does is nod eagerly. just you and me! it'll be great! zuko points out that it wasn't that long ago that his mission in life was trying to capture aang, but the avatar just brushes it off with a laugh.

"yeah, but you're not doing that anymore, are you?" aang asks. "this'll be good for you, i promise!"

zuko glances over at jin, who just shrugs. he heaves a long sigh and realizes he's probably not getting out of this and reluctantly agrees. he makes sure to pack a lot of the medicinal tea that the palace doctors prescribed to him to help deal with his sleepwalking, since he doesn't know how long he's going to be gone. he makes sure to bring his dao, since with his firebending in the state it's in, they're the only thing he has to defend himself.

aang won't tell him where he's going.

he just leans back and glares a hole in the back of aang's head, but the avatar doesn't seem to mind. the whole group seems to view his moments of being surly and unpleasant as 'recovery' and zuko doesn't know how to feel about the fact that's what people seem to think about him. he can't disagree with it, but...

...he doesn't know. he wants to be better, he guesses.

...he also doesn't want to be like lee.

aang brings him to the sun warrior ruins. he glances over at him with an incredulous look, and the avatar just beams and says this'll help with his firebending problem! c'mon, let's go explore! at which point he grabs zuko by the arm and drags him all over the ruins. he'll begrudgingly admit it's not a terrible time, but he still has no idea why he's here.

then aang leads him into a temple.

he glances at the door as they pass. it looks like it works the same way the temple on crescent island did- which would explain why aang chose to take their field trip on the solstice. inside are massive golden statues of the sun warriors, and aang convinces him to give the poses a try with him. they're firebending forms, he says chipperly.

(he stops him from grabbing the golden egg that emerges when they're done. trust me, you don't want to do that.)

when they emerge, they're greeted by actual sun warriors. aang feigns surprise, but it's obvious he knew this would happen. the chief gives him a long look and asks if he's here to take the trial of the masters. aang gives him an encouraging double thumbs up, so zuko reluctantly agrees.

they give him a piece of the eternal flame.

unlike the tiny, weak flames zuko has been producing lately, he manages to keep this one strong and steady as he makes his way up the mountain path they indicate. he has no idea what's going on as he ascends the stairs, but he can't shake the crawling sensation of being watched. he arrives at the top, and the sun warriors blow into horns...

...there are dragons here.

for a long moment, zuko just stares at them. then slowly, he begins to move, performing the firebending form aang had shown him in the temple. he must have done so for a reason, zuko realizes. when he's done, he lets out a long breath and looks up at the dragons-

-the burst of colorful flame they encircle him with is incredible.

oh, he realizes, his firebending isn't weak because he was brainwashed. it's because the way he firebent before is wrong for him now- his time as lee has changed him. he's let go of all the anger and the hate that's been driving him since the agni kai, and hasn't found anything to replace it with.

the dragons disappear back within their caverns.

zuko summons a flame into his hands. it is still small- but it is also strong and steady. above all else, it carries a promise-

-he's not where he needs to be yet. he still doesn't entirely know who he is anymore. but he'll get there.

there's no need to rush.

#lee from the tea shop #or: now it's aang's turn to bring zuko on a life-changing field trip #although. if you think about it. what was his time as lee if not an extended life changing field trip?#(albeit one that he did not get to consent to)

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zaimta · 5 months ago

Note

I saw your post about requests being open and when I saw that you write for Niji I knew I had to slide in here with a request!

Could you write something using the prompt:

"I knew you'd be trouble, I didn't think you'd be this much trouble"

Either just Niji or if the prompt inspires ideas for any other characters of your choice, consider it Niji + dealer's choice

Happy writing 🩵

zai says- i lowkey love all the vinsmokes (not judge ofc.) it’s a bummer how underrated they are outside of sanji (they shitty people ik😭) also forgive me if everyone seems a tad ooc i haven’t watched wci in 2 years

ˏˋ«────── « 𓆩♡𓆪 » ──────»

you were a war tactician hired by judge vinsmoke himself. your intelligence was feared as well as admired, and your tenacious rule with an iron fist made you a formidable foe. as the only army who came close to defeating germa 66 in war he made you chief of germa’s war division so he could devote himself fully to his science research.

he stood in front of his warriors with you at his right hand “from this day forth y/n l/n will be leading you lot into battle. any problems or concerns goes straight to them from now on and i expect you won’t have any problems. am i clear.”

“yes sir!!” echos among the loyal soldiers as they all stand in stance to salute you.

“dismissed.” your roaring voice echoes among the soldiers.

adjusting to the germa kingdom was something that came smoothly for you, however keeping track of all the various technologies and weapons they had at their disposal felt more like a chore rather than an aspect of your job you opted to leave that type of thing to the vinsmokes. you were only here to come up with plans and lead them into battle whatever tools they used to execute said plans seemed like it was beyond you, despite it being your job.

as a tactician you spent most of your time holed up in your office coming up with various plans to take down your foes swiftly and quickly. usually any meetings would be held with the vinsmoke children themselves because judge was busy with other matters you couldn’t be bothered enough to care about. but that’s when you met him. something about his laid back demeanor as a solider threw you off.

any comment you made about it was met with insubordination. you were his boss as well as him being yours, the work place dynamic was quite confusing.

your back was turned as you scribbled defensive positions on the whiteboard explaining them to the siblings as you went through them “i say you blow those bastards to kingdom come then allow them to stay operational for their materials.” you heard your voice say. your rolled your eyes and turned around pointing your marker at him “no powers in the briefing room solider.” niji only snickered at his reprimanding.

ichji chimed in from his spot beside his brother, you liked ichji as a solider he was obedient and more than often pulled his own weight in war “that wouldn’t be a bad idea to consider l/n.”

you nodded in agreement “while yes i do agree. the people of piku are resilient fighters on top of that they have world class weapons smiths. it would be best to let them believe they’ve gained a victory while pulling the strings in the background from the background.”

yonji, the youngest of the four, slammed his fist on the table “no way! the germa kingdom fights head on we’re not some cowards.”

you sent him a sharp side glare for his outburst “it’s also how you have so many casualties. just because your shoulders are genetically modified doesn’t mean you should be careless. your army could have had ten times the man power you lot have now. having no plan gets you nowhere solider.”

he huffed like a child who was just told no the first time, which you swiftly ignored.

you peer up at the clock you’ve all been in this meeting for a couple hours it would be best to wrap it up “that is all for now. i’ll be briefing you all individually next time as i understand you all have separate missions you need to get to. dismissed.”

as usual niji lingered after his siblings, to annoy you, you assumed “lovely plan as always tactician.” you only raised a brow which causes him to raise his hands in mock defense “now now what’s with all the hostility? keep frowning like that and your face will get stuck sweets.”

you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms “i knew you’d be trouble, i didn’t think you’d be this much trouble.” he never failed to get on your nerves. you make a point to remain neutral with all your soldiers but he was the exception.

he rested his cheek on his face with a grin “what do you like it? cause i can keep going.” to say you’ve caught his eye was an understatement. he’s had his eye on you since he cornered you and your soldiers. the pure look of hate and destain in your eyes was hot to him he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on just a bit.

you shot him a glare “ah yes!” he said pointing at you, he then stood up and walked over to you trapping your chin between his index finger and his thumb “that’s exactly the look i wanted to see” god he loved annoying you.

“vinsmoke.” you said flatly clearly irritated with his antics.

“yes?” he responded smirking at you still, oh what you wouldn’t give to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. you pointed towards the door which caused him to sigh “fine fine. but for the record you’re no fun” he reluctantly released your chin and walked out the door backwards to keep his eyes on you.

oh yeah you were totally gonna be his partner he was sure of it.

#one piece x reader #niji vinsmoke x reader #niji x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #niji vinsmoke x you #one piece fluff

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 5 months ago

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CHAPTER 7: THE BATHTUB

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: I can't believe we only have two more episodes left! Thank you all for your patience! Let me know what y'all think. I read everything and respond!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3252

Masterlist

PART I || PART II ||

HAWKINS POLICE STATION – CHERRY STREET

As soon as I open the front door, a gust of cold wind blows and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. The cool air feels nice on my skin despite the cold. I wish I wore a jacket instead of a plaid shirt. I look around trying to figure out where I should go. I can’t walk too far away from the station in case Chief Hopper comes back. I decide to go left up Cherry Street. The series of unfortunate events leading up to this moment all play out in my head and I rub my temples trying to ease the dull pulsating ache.

Today, Jonathan, Nancy and I started to forge a plan to kill the monster and find Will and Barb. How will we find them in that place? How will we find the tree? It closed after Jonathan pulled me out of it. I can’t imagine how alone and scared Barb must be inside that place by herself. It’s been days since I last saw her and with the police thinking she left town; they won’t try finding her. The Hollands. I blink back tears, flaring my nostrils to keep them from falling. I hope they don’t think badly of Nancy and I for lying. I feel like we owe it to them to find Barb and bring her back. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, sniffing softly.

There are still so many loose ends to tie up like where can we lure the monster if not in the forest where it lives? How do we have the upper hand in killing the monster? Hawkins is a small town, there is nowhere to put this thing without drawing attention to ourselves especially now that we are on the radar of cops. I let out a noise of frustration, stomping on the ground. How are we going to execute the plan now? Nancy and I can’t leave Jonathan at the station. What if they put him in jail?

If it weren’t for Tommy, Carol, Nicole and Steve, we would be able to properly plan.

This all happened because Jonathan was in Nancy’s room? There’s no doubt in my mind that they weren’t doing anything compromising. How could they after what happened? Nancy almost died last night. If it weren’t for Jonathan who knows what could have happened to her—to me. Also, Nancy liked Steve too much to do anything that could jeopardize her relationship with him. The voice in the back of my head questions: But what about Jonathan?

As if you didn’t know from the start, Sinclair! It would explain why you’re always protecting the pervert.

I frown pushing strands of hair away from my face. It’s clear Steve and Jonathan do not like each other. I thought it was because of stupid boy ego and bravado. Both boys can be arrogant. It explains why they clash. But I feel unsettled by what Steve said in the alley. As if you didn’t know from the start. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t believe it to be true, would he?

Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart. And that damn stupid.

I don’t agree with what Flo said to Nancy and I about Jonathan’s reasons for fighting back in the alley, but with all that has happened this week, all that was said, especially in the forest about believing Nancy was “trying to be someone else” yet doing what every other suburban girl does, rebel until the phase passes and end up marrying “some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and live out a perfectly boring life at the end of a cul-de-sac”. I didn’t realize it back then, but now that I think about it, Jonathan was talking about Steve. I stop walking and look around. It’s like everything clicked and that unsettling feeling became stronger, heavier.

Does Jonathan like Nancy?

My brain feels like a tangled web of confusion. How did I not notice it before? The signs are all there. It was all subtle and platonic in the moment, but the more I think about it, the more obvious it seems. I laugh in disbelief shaking my head.

This is such a mess.

I shiver against the strong gust of wind whooshing in my ear and tuck my chin into my chest, continuing to walk. Neither Jonathan or Steve hid their dislike for each other. Part of me regrets standing up for Steve yesterday, especially after today. But the argument in the forest was about Jonathan taking those photos. It always comes down to that stupid lapse in judgement. Though I don’t agree with Steve breaking Jonathan’s camera, I understand why he did it. To protect Nancy’s honour and to protect himself. As I told Jonathan, Steve’s privacy was violated too. All of ours were. What Jonathan did was gross and Steve did what he thought was best. Steve had a right to be upset.

He just takes it too far.

Breaking Jonathan’s camera, the marquee, the awful things he said to both Nancy and Jonathan. I know Steve is hurt. I saw it in his eyes. From his perspective the optics aren’t great. He did what he thought was right in the moment to protect Nancy, checked up on her to see if she was okay, only to find Nancy in her room with Jonathan, the boy he was trying to protect her from. I get it, but the rigmarole after. Unacceptable.

Steve wanted that fight with Jonathan back in the alley and Jonathan was ready to give him that fight. A chill runs down my spine. The sound of skin hitting skin replays in my head. The power behind every punch still scares me. For as long as I’ve known Jonathan, he’s been a quiet, somewhat brooding person who often kept to himself. He doesn’t bother nor really talk to anyone. It was always him and his camera. It’s why the way he was fighting Steve concerned me.

Even though our little brothers are best friends, this week has been the most I have ever spoken to Jonathan. We’ve exchanged a few words when I helped him with his photography project, but other than that, we rarely crossed paths. I am aware of his home life based on what Lucas would say during dinner about Will not being able to come over to hang out with the rest of the boys because he’s spending time with his dad. Based on his tone alone, it’s clear Will is uncomfortable around him. At the funeral, I remember observing the way he was acting. There was something sly about Mr. Byers because I haven’t seen or heard about him until Will’s funeral. It’s clear he isn’t present in both boys lives because Jonathan doesn’t know how to tie a tie. Even when Steve was saying horrible things about his dad, Jonathan didn’t flinch.

“Excuse me, sorry,” I say, pushing past a couple standing in the middle of the street.

He didn’t do anything until Steve started saying terrible things about Miss Byers and Will. I looked in his eyes, that flash of rage, but it was too late. Jonathan’s punches were direct and intentional…familiar almost. Where did he learn to fight? Did his dad teach him? Or was Jonathan used to having to protect himself all the time? Even though our unlikely alliance came out of something tragic, I like being around him. I care about him. I puff out my cheeks, running my fingers through my hair. There was so much I needed to talk to Jonathan about.

HAWKINS CINEMA

My feet come to a stop in front of the building that started it all. I stare up at the large marquee feeling many different emotions all at once. Shock. Disgust. Anger. Disappointment. It’s been almost 45 minutes since I first saw the horrible display of affection and though there wasn’t a crowd circling Hawkins Cinema to see the spectacle, the bright red letters still commanded attention.

NANCY THE SLUT WHEELER

How did we get here? The question has been burning a hole in my brain all morning. I scowl at Tommy’s messy handwriting. That boy is the absolute worse. The unsettling image of Tommy watching me from afar makes me sick to my stomach. It’s one thing to pick on me, but to follow me around and loathe me for talking to someone who has been nothing but kind to me. I clench my hands into fists, grinding my teeth against each other. The perception people have of Eddie is starting to annoy me and I can’t help but feel protective of him. He’s not like anyone in town and I can relate to that. Being different. Eddie makes it look easy and I love that about him. I envy that about him as well.

From the corner of my eye, I see a tall person and glance in their direction. Realizing who it is, I scoff shaking my head. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Sinclair?”

I ignore Steve walking fast back down Cherry Street.

“Hey, wait!” Steve shouts. I keep my head down avoiding the confused stares of bystanders.

“Sinclair!”

I press my lips together feeling the bubbling anger in my stomach rise to my chest. Sinclair? Who does he think he is, calling me Sinclair. As if I’m a teammate on the basketball team. He knows my name. I look around ready to cross the street when I feel Steve run up beside me.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” He pants, holding his side.

“No.” I say looking anywhere to avoid looking at him. When the coast is clear I jog across the street.

“Please,” Steve huffs jogging beside me. “Just hear me out.”

“No.”

“Look, I just want to apologize.”

I roll my eyes, snorting in disbelief. “Again? Save it. I don’t need an apology because I know you’re going to do something for it to not mean anything.”

“Oh, c’mon, Sinclair—”

I whip around so fast Steve flinches as my hair hits him across his chest. “Don’t call me that!” I snap, glaring angrily at him. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t say anything! Leave me alone!”

Steve’s brows shoot up in surprise. As suspected looking at Jonathan’s swollen knuckles, the entire left side of his face is battered and bruised. From the split on his left brow, the bridge of his nose and right side of his lip in addition to all the dry blood smeared and crusting around his face, Jonathan got him good. I would’ve been more horrified and compassionate if it weren’t for what he did to get beaten and how rude and impolite he is to me right now.

I walk pass him continuing down Cherry Street. The nerve of him. I am not one of his loyal followers. I am not his friend, especially after what he did and said back in the alley. I perk up feeling another wave of anger build in me. Jonathan, Nancy and I had to be escorted to the police station while, Tommy, Carol, Nicole and Steve got off scot-free when they were the ones causing the problems in the first place. No one has been accounted for that disgusting sign, yet Jonathan is literally handcuffed for defending himself.

I am sick and tired of people being terrible and getting a slap on the wrist because of their popularity. I turn around, stomping back to Steve who hadn’t moved from his spot, staring wide eyed and confused at the building of Hawkins Post.

“I don’t know what that was or who you think you are,” I continue. “But if the person I saw back there is the real you. I will make sure Nancy stays far, far away. That I promise you, Harrington.” I threaten. Steve opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off quick. “Do you know how traumatic this is for her?”

“Traumatic?” Steve shouts, staring at me in disbelief. “She cheated on me!”

“No, she didn’t!” I shout back, defending my best friend. Nancy wouldn’t do that. She likes him too much. “You only caught a glimpse of something and ran with it.”

“You didn’t see what I saw, Sin—” Steve’s words die in his throat. I squint, daring him to call me by my last name again. Steve shifts to lean on one leg, putting one hand on his hip and takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge between his nose with his other. He winces slightly, dropping his hand to his other hip and glares down at me. “They were sitting on her bed and he had—he had his arm around her.”

I blink waiting for more information. Steve stares back at me waiting for my response. I frown. “That’s it?”

“Yes!” He throws his hands up in annoyance.

“That’s why you’re upset?”

Steve groans out of frustration, combing his fingers through his hair. “I know what I saw and I know what Nancy did!”

“Did you ever stop and think maybe Nancy was confiding in Jonathan because they both lost someone important to them? Is that too hard to believe?” Steve scoffs shaking his head. “If you really believed she cheated on you, instead of running to Tommy, Carol, and Nicole, knowing how they are, why didn’t you just call Nancy and talk to her!”

“I saw what I saw.” Steve says. His voice is quiet and even, but the anger and hurt in his eyes remain. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“So, because there’s ‘nothing to talk about’,” I use air quotes, mocking him. “You decided to slut-shame Nancy in front of the entire town.” I yell, extending an arm out, pointing with disdain at the source of irritation. “You’re sick!” I hiss, pointing at him before turning away.

“That was all Tommy, not me!” Steve yells. “I didn’t write that about Nancy!”

I turn around rushing toward him. “But you didn’t stop Tommy from doing it and that’s always been my issue with you!” I cry, lifting my hands up in the air. “You never stop it. You never do anything. You stand there and let it happen!” Steve jerks his head back, drawing his brows together. I drop my hands down to my sides. “Whether you like it or not, everything falls back on you because you’re King Steve. You have this—this persona to uphold and you cannot choose when it does and does not apply to you because it always does!”

“I didn’t ask to be King Steve.” Steve says between clenched teeth.

“You look fine when you’re reaping the benefits when it serves you.” I point out. “But when something like this happens, when your back is against the wall, now it’s I didn’t ask to be King Steve? Give me a break!” Steve avoids eye contact, clenching his teeth until I see the tick in his jaw. “It’s so frustrating to see you act the way you do when you're around Tommy and Carol or any one of your stupid jock friends because I know that’s not you and deep down,” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “I know you know it too. I know you know better. You’re not like them, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes lock with mines. The lines between his brows smoothen and I see that look again, the one I saw briefly in the alley. I stare up at him, swiping my tongue along my bottom lip and shake my head, looking up at the sky.

“Believe it or not, I think your better than them. You can be such a jerk—an asshole even, but you are better than them.” I speak softly, looking back at him. “Every time I start to think ‘maybe Steve Harrington isn’t that bad. Maybe he’s actually a good person’. You do something to make me take back my words and I feel foolish enough to believe you can be.”

Steve draws his brows in sadly. His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I am a good person.” He murmurs.

“Are you?” I challenge, pointing at the marquee again. “Is that who you are? Is that who you want to be?”

“I—” Steve trails off unsure of what to say.

I drop my hand, crossing my arms above my chest to keep warm. I’m not wearing a proper jacket or any jacket; just a plaid shirt.

“I know you’re embarrassed by the pictures.” I begin, swiping strands of hair out of my face as a gust of wind blows in our direction. “You were in them and your privacy was invaded just as much as Nancy’s. I promise you; I do not condone what Jonathan did and he knows that. It was disgusting and stupid. I’ve had that conversation with him. However, that is no excuse to say all those things about him and his family. I know you’re hurt because of Nancy, but, Jesus, Steve.” I look down at my shoes, kicking a pebble onto the road.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You wanted that fight with Jonathan, admit it.” His silence is enough to confirm my sentiment. I shake my head.

“You do realize he buried his brother yesterday, don’t you? His brother. My little brother’s best friend was buried yesterday and we still—” I stop, trying to catch my breath. I put my hand on my chest blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “We still can’t find Barb.”

“Have you heard anything from the cops?” Steve asks. I don’t respond right away looking at the blood stains on his shirt. Flashes of the monster in the woods, eating that deer appear in my mind and I close my eyes trying to rid it from my memory.

“Diana.” My eyebrows twitch and I open my eyes. Steve is looking at me with such intensity my breathing becomes shallow. This is the first time Steve has said my name. The first time acknowledging me as a person, not just Nancy’s best friend. The way he says my name…the yearning in his voice. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, Steve licks his bottom up shifting uncomfortably back and forth. “Please.” He begs. “I know something’s wrong. It’s—It’s why I went over to Nancy’s in the first place.” He sighs in defeat. “I just want to help.”

Part of me believes him. The part of me who believes Steve is a good person. I want to tell him what happened to Nancy and I last night in the forest, about Jonathan saving us from near-death. I want to tell him about the police finding Barbs car at a bus station. I want to tell him everything…but I look at the marquee again. I can’t get too close to Steve. Suddenly becoming hyper aware of how close Steve and I were to each other. I blink, taking a step back creating space between us. Steve moves to take a step toward me, but decides against it. I fix my posture, shaking my head.

“You can’t.” I say coldly, walking backwards and away from him. “You seriously need to figure out how to express your emotions because I don’t know how you come back from this. I really don’t. If I were Nancy, I would never want to see or speak to you again.”

NEXT -> PART II

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

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