#gerard cut his balls

[earlycuntsets]

the time gerard cut his balls trying to shave the stench from his body

interviewer: alright you ready? i heard someone in your band cut themselves while shaving their balls. is this true?

frank iero: hahaha that is completely true. (completely true)

interviewer: who was it? it

frank iero: wahahaha oh man. heh uh I guess he's not like whatever about it because he told the story on stage but. alright well, we were on tour one time and uh gerard was like in the bathroom for a long ass time somebody brought up the fact that when you're on tour yknow it's like.. when you're on tour and you haven't showered in a month yknow? or like gerard doesn't shower at all. hardly. he really stinks. and the hair on your nuts it's like- really keeps the smell in yknow so he figured like if he got rid of the hair, yknow he might cut down on some of the reeking uh so he had like a buzzer and he shaved himself and I guess he cut some- his balls and it just started bleeding everywhere

interviewer: this is terrible man

frank iero: what's that?

interviewer: this is a terrible question i'm gonna go to the next one

frank iero: alright

interviewer: thank you for telling us that though, revealing private information

frank iero: hey it's not my thing

interviewer: it's not your balls

audio from spaceyraygun on youtube! spacey was a fan when the band was just getting started. check out their about! their audio was used in some official mcr stuff.x

[chronicowboy]

buck and eddie are ❌NOT❌ golfers, they're the least golfy men i have ever laid eyes upon - this is an issue i am incredibly passionate about and have been since 6x17 love is in the air, do not try to change my mind, it won't work. however, there is a way they could fix both of these issues in one fell swoop. so. buck goes golfing with gerard as part of the 118's meticulously hatched plan to get him not only out of their station but the lafd for good. buck is the obvious candidate, he's a cis white man who, in gerard's head, is half straight and that's all they've really got to work with. the problem? buck is truly and terrifically terrible at golf. clearly he'll need some tutoring in order for their plan to work. and buck's like "hey, eddie, you golf right?" so cut to the driving range, a cheesy sports film montage of eddie demonstrating how to swing and buck failing miserably, he looks a little flushed and maybe a bit distracted - wonder what that's about. anyway, sun begins to fade, we're going real campy humour, we break out of the montage and eddie goes to get another basketful of balls for buck to hit. he watches buck practice his swing and shakes his head. "alright, cowboy, this clearly isn't working". no shit. "maybe you should just go instead, show up with your half swedish side". eddie's not giving up though. he gets a little flushed and awkward and shuffles up to buck, scratching at the back of his neck. "it, uh, might be, um, easier? if i could... could i, you know, put my arms around you?" buck's mouth drops open in a little o, he doesn't say anything as he turns pink as the sunset behind them. "sorry, i made it weird, didn't i? forget-" "NO!" buck winces a little at his outburst. "i mean, uh, no, y-you didn't make it weird, that might actually work" so with the face of a man about to be sent off to war, eddie positions himself behind buck and wraps his arms around him, adjusts his grip on the club and leads buck through the motions of a good swing. everything's suddenly very tense and taut. they hit the ball, it's worse than any of buck's previous hits. it lands in the netting and only just rolls over the edge. there's an "ow - what the hell" from below. they freeze, buck begins to shake with silent laughter, eddie cracks slowly, then they're both giggling, trying and failing to muffle it, eddie buries his face in buck's shoulder and laughs, buck suddenly goes quiet, but he's still smiling. "if i knew all i had to do to make you laugh was be piss poor at golf, i'd have tried this the day after chris-" "hey, at least you haven't broken my ankle yet" "it was just a sprain" buck mumbles, eddie grins. "let's try again" they swing together once more, the ball goes soaring. buck whoops and does a dorky little victory dance and eddie looks at him, bathed in the light of the sunset, and oh, he's the most beautiful thing eddie's ever seen. buck runs back over "eddie, we've gotta go again, c'mon, c'mon" eddie breaks out of his trance "yeah, gotta learn to do it by yourself. i don't think gerard would appreciate you showing up with me on your back like a koala" and scene.

[apoemaday]

Poetic Subjects

by Rebecca Lindenberg

The capital city. Arrowroot. Water-bur. Colts. Hail. Bamboo grass. The round-leaved violet. Club moss. Water oats. Flat river-boats. The mandarin duck.                         — The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon

The sky. And the sky above that. The exchange of ice between mouths. Other people's poems. My friend says we never write about anything we can get to the bottom of. For him, this is a place arbored with locust trees. For me, it's a language for which I haven't quite found the language yet. The dewy smell of a new-cut pear. Bacon chowder flecked with thyme. Roasted duck skin ashine with plum jam. Scorpion peppers. Clothes on a line. A smell of rain battering the rosemary bush. The Book Cliffs. Most forms of banditry. Weathered barns. Dr. Peebles. The Woman's Tonic, it says on the side, in old white paint. The clink of someone putting away dishes in another room. The mechanical bull at the cowboy bar in West Salt Lake. The girls ride it wearing just bikinis and cowboy hats. I lean over to my friend and say, I would worry about catching something. And he leans back to say, That's really the thing you'd worry about? We knock the bottom of our bottles together. How they talk in old movies, like, Now listen here. Just because you can swing a bat doesn't mean you can play ball. Or, I'll be your hot cross if you'll be my bun. Well, anyway, you know what I mean. Somewhere between the sayable and the unsayable, poetry runs. Antidote to the river of forgetting. Like a rosary hung from a certain rearview mirror. Like the infinite rasp of gravel under the wheel of a departing car.  Gerard Manley Hopkins's last words were I'm so happy, I'm so happy. Oscar Wilde took one look at the crackling wallpaper in his Paris flat, then at his friends gathered around and said, One or the other of us has got to go. Wittgenstein said simply, Tell all my friends, I've had a wonderful life.

[mikey-wazowski]

Do you want to go to the castle where the dogs are or do you want to go back to your frog pond?

----------------

So here's my gift for @bitemarx for @d20exchange!! I know you said you like character analysis so I decided to use the inspiration I got from this post by @littlebitofdnd and create this drawing based on Gerard's own helplessness. He holds the keys to free himself but would being free be any better than drowning at the bottom of the lake? Plus, as they said in the post, Gerard believes he deserves it so would he really leave anyway?

I wanna rant a little bit more about the details in the drawing so that'll be under the cut along with a version of the art without the water effects! Anyway, I hope you liked the gift!!

Get ready for a stream of consciousness lol

I decided to depict Gerard sitting on a pile of trash at the bottom of the ocean as a nod to Gerard's lack of self-worth! It's meant to look a bit like a throne so that the silhouette along with the paper crown would be a representation of this illusion of being this handsome fairy tale prince that Gerard continues to hold onto! He's in the middle of a transformation now, still holding onto being human (again, fairy tale prince) but not quite there. He'll never have quite the look he believes he needs to pull off. I also decided to put a sword next to him as a nod to the sword of truth and his connection with Elody along with the Golden Ball on his chain and in his hands representing that as well. Finally, he does have the keys to the chains around his neck, with nothing stopping him from grabbing them, except the fact he has no better place to go and he'd have to let go of the Golden Ball, Elody, in the process as well as leave his makeshift throne. He has all the keys to his happiness, he just can't seem to let go of what was supposed to be his happy ending! :)

Anyway, I'm done ranting! Here's the version without the water effects:

[infectiouspiss]

Frank talking about the time Gerard cut his balls while shaving them (in an attempt to be less stinky)

transcript under the cut

Interviewer: I heard that someone in your band cut themselves shaving their balls, is this true?

Frank: Hahaha, that is completely true!

Interviewer: Who was it?

Frank: Ahaha, it was- oh man. I guess he's gotta be like whatever about it, 'cause like, he told the story on stage, but uh, we were on tour one time and uh, Gerard was like, in the bathroom for like, a long ass time. And somebody brought up the fact that y'know, like, when you're on tour and you haven't showered in like a month, y'know? Or like, Gerard doesn't shower at all, hardly, when you really think. But like, the hair on your nuts, it like, really keeps the smell in, y'know? So he figured like, if he got rid of the hair, y'know, he might cut down on some of the reeking? But he had like, a buzzer and he shaved himself and I guess he like, clipped his balls and they just started bleeding everywhere haha!

[troius]

Bouncing off your Ichigo being sidelined discussion (which, yes, where's he been this whole arc?) One thing that really made TYBW suffer imo was the lack of inner character insight from the main squad, Ichigo and Uryu (poor boy got practically offscreened in an arc about his own people) especially, given that the supposed rift between them is meant to carry the Karakura gang side of things and only got /one/ quick scene (and where, i think, the arc being cut short suffers). Where Hueco Mundo managed to balance both Ichigo/Orihime/the Six Hearts gang, their issues and give them a narrative to follow and spent time with them and gave them genuinely compelling moments (the Lust mini arc centered around Ichigo/Orihime/Uryu/Ulquiorra remains, imo, the very best writing Kubo did, it had great art, genuinely compelling writing, good fighting and interpersonal relationships between Ichigo and the three of them, and kept us hooked because we /care/ about these characters and the despair they're going through), and made room for the SS Captains without them being overwhelming (Mayuri/Szayel was tedious, I'll give you that), TYBW really became a Shinigami fest (the extended time spent on characters like Mayuri (two fights, restores everyone's bankai, gets "closure" with Nemu and conveniently zero repercussion for his crimes against the quincies) Shunsui, Urahara and Zaraki (also two very lenghty fights) which yielded, ultimately, not all that much in terms of meaty character development and relied on a lot of convenience/deus ex machina/plot armour, and feels unsatisfying when you're waiting to get back to Ichigo and the squad where the emotional crux of the arc lies (Yhwach killed his mother & Uryu's mother, and it yields... also very little), the arc, despite being super long also did extremely little in developping the Quincies (aside perhaps from Jugram and Bazz, and even that was limited. Uryu suffered the most for it imo, but I guess showing any hint of inner conflict with him would have gone against what Kubo tried to pull with him, the anime also cut out his exchange with Jugram, where Jugram spells out for him that the blood ritual has essentially trapped him on Yhwach's side and Uryu being clearly horrified by it & Uryu's reaction to Yhwach asking him why he's alive), and dropped the ball big time on the main characters we *should* be invested in (poor poor Chad tbh). It's a shame, when you see what Kubo /can/ do with a contained story like Everything but the Rain; which had heart and character development, and made us care about Masaki/Isshin/Ryuken and Katagiri because what limited stuff we were given was actually compelling, and we're already attached to both of their kids and the friendship between them. The Gerard Valkyrie fight goes on for just as long as ebtr, features the three most popular captains, but has none of that heart (and a lot of plot convenience), which is why people bemoan it so much.

It's pretty telling that even anime fans last cour were clamoring for Ichigo to come back after episodes of mere cameos from him, but also nice to see that while Mayuri/Byakuya/Zaraki and co are popular, *Ichigo* is the one who remains the heart of the story, the nexus that pulls together the Shinigami, his gang of friends and the audience. Given that animation can oft make what feels long and tedious in manga (Gremmy vs Zaraki was one ep in anime vs going on forever in manga), the Pernida/Lille stuff should hopefully not last beyond 2/+1/2eps. With all the talk about Cour 3 having a lot of addition, I'm crossing my fingers the anime will spend more time with Ichigo/those close to him (*cough* and the dad squad) in the next parts! Visual fights are nice and all, but character relationships, conflict and depth are, ultimately, far more compelling and memorable than any Cgi flashing swordfight and brute strenght boost can do, there's a reason ppl remember the Ulquiorra stuff on the dome as the pinnacle of Bleach, and not, say, Zaraki vs Gremmy. While I'm not expecting a Lust arc round 2, if the anime team takes their time, I'm hoping the ultimate Ichigo (&co)/Yhwach showdown to be reworked into something just as compelling.

Lol I feel kinda guilty posting this because there's not much to say in response. Get yourself a Tumblog anon, otherwise I'll get all the credit for your meta!

[anystalker707]

Mx. Painter, my dear

Pairing: Vampire! Gerard x [gender neutral] Reader Word count: ~ 3 800 Genre: Light angst / Comfort Summary: A vampire--brooding owner of an isolated estate--who decides to help a painter on the verge of death from consumption. Tw: Depressive themes

MASTERLIST

          The day was dark despite it being summer; the clash of temperature of the cold days suddenly becoming hotter had a storm coming your way, announced not only by the dark sky, but also by the cold wind and the smell of rain that filled the air sharply. Most of the people already collected themselves inside their homes to prepare themselves for the night of heavy rain. The wind sometimes would pick up the speed and send flying the coat of the only person who still wandered out there.

Gerard was about to do the same, walking home with his umbrella hanging from his forearm. Things had taken longer than he had predicted, but he would still make it in time before the rain reached him, for sure, hence he didn’t even bother rushing his pace through the empty streets of the city. Only the sound of the thick soles of his boots against the stonepath echoed through the streets that weren’t only occupied by him, apparently.

A shadow in an alley could be seen out of the corner of his eye, which he ignored until taking a pause and stepping back. There was another victim of the bohemian nights, for sure, lying across the pavement without hope for another day and already abominating the idea of waking up after turning countless glasses upside down. He narrowed his eyes at the figure, and couldn’t help but recognize the author of some of the paintings he had hanging around the manor. Their skin was paler than usual whilst their messy clothes were covered in dirt. A bottle hung from their loose grip—cheap alcohol.

His eyes traveled down the way home, pondering whether he should continue walking or not, but something inside him protested. The hopeless figure, their emotional paintings... A sigh escaped his nose as he closed his eyes, lips pursed.

          Quietness reigned in the manor like always, echoing the sound of the doors closing behind Gerard when they were thrown shut with a kick; the young painter didn’t even complain in their unconsciousness. The umbrella and shoes were discarded before he could make his way upstairs.

Most of what he could do for the painter, for now, was to dress them out of the muddy clothes and replace them by a nightgown after removing at least most of the dirt away with a wet cloth. Should he have done all of that? He didn’t know, but it wasn’t something he wanted to establish for now. Memories of lingering looks across art museums and dances during balls swayed behind his eyelids when he closed his eyes, but tried to ground himself with the warmth that came from the drink in the cup he held and the soft song coming from the gramophone that sat on the cupboard in one of the corners of the room, away from the bed and near the armchair.

The long and harmonic notes of the orchestra’s song was almost muffled under the sound of the raindrops against the window. Since the previous night, he could barely see anything that was going on outside unless a lightning cut across the sky.

Something shifting in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he immediately adjusted his posture when he downed the rest of the drink and turned to face the guest. You weren’t quite awake yet, no, still organizing your thoughts as you breathed deeply and your bones popped with the way you stretched yourself.

“God, I...” You trailed off at the same moment your hands stopped patting your surroundings; your head lifted from the pillows as you blinked repeatedly and looked around. “Where...” Your eyebrows raised lightly when your eyes met his. You gulped and sat up, blinking more to observe around the room—it was dark, but not enough to have the lights on—as you brought a hand to rub your face. Words failed to escape your mouth despite how it opened and closed repeatedly, but Gerard didn’t bother. He wasn’t in a rush. Then, finally, his name spilled from your lips, quiet and languid.

“Good afternoon, (y/n).” He nodded, putting the cup away on the window sill. “How are you feeling, dear?”

You had many questions. They swirled around your fuzzy mind without order enough to be voiced, so instead you pressed your lips together and shook your head in an attempt to show how you felt. Gerard motioned to the bedside table and only then did you become aware of the smell of fruits and croissants while a jar of water sat there, topped with tulle jug cover with beaded edges. Despite how you reached for it, he was the one to reach the bedside table first and serve a glass of water, waiting until your grip was firm to release it.

“Why?” You muttered after a sip of water, voice hoarse and heavy with sleep and sickness.

He raised his eyebrows in a silent surprise. Not like you would be thanking him first thing, but he didn’t expect you to be so demanding straight away. “Oh, would rather die on the streets?”

You didn’t answer. You brought the glass to your lips again, taking long sips for what felt like an eternity. “Maybe.”

          You had had a bath when you presented yourself in the living room, at first only watching Gerard sit on the lavish armchair with a book in hand, under the light of the dancing flames of the fireplace and the chandelier’s. Rain still poured strong outside, thick drops hitting the glass windows as if they were solid.

The sound of the book being closed was louder than it should’ve been. It was placed on the cupboard with a muffled thud before Gerard’s attention averted to you.

“You don’t need to tire your legs.”

You glanced at the couch then sighed in defeat, moving over to the couch. “Thank you.” You didn’t sound so thankful, more like a kid shoved by their parents to show their gratitude towards a relative they didn’t even know that gifted them clothes of the wrong color during a holiday. It made him shake his head, absentmindedly licking his teeth. “What? Do you expect a free painting because of the help? Sorry, but I—”

“I don’t expect anything, never expected.” He looked at you with a sigh, blinking slowly. “Not in return to helping you out, I mean. I just didn’t really think you were an artist like this, Mx. Painter.”

“Like what?”

“Subjected to emotions the same way as Poe, Tchaikovsky, Van Gogh.” It was self explanatory.

You shook your head and patted your pockets as if you looked for something, but you never found it, hands falling to the cushing at the moment you remembered you probably lost all of your things on the previous night. “Would you understand?” He raised an eyebrow for you to continue. “Living surrounded by money, jewels, gold. Having something to live for.”

A humorless chuckle escaped Gerard’s lips with it. “Alright, alright. And you don’t? What a career!”

Instead of an immediate answer, he received a long, incredulous glare. “When was the last time you saw an exposition of mine?”

A long time ago, indeed, but artists weren’t having expositions every two months unless they had paint that dried faster than a few months along with Melpomene, Clio or Erato trapped inside their studios. He didn’t think any artist in the region had, at least, so his inquiring expression remained, accompanied by a shrug once you started taking too long to answer.

It frustrated you, his response. You seemed tired in means beyond physical, even if the circles around your eyes and the emptiness in your movements already didn’t present you very well.

Letting go of you didn’t feel like an option, as much as he wanted to hold onto it. If Gerard were to read about your passing on the notes in the end of the newspaper one morning, he probably would only lament, but things were different now that he had actually brought you home and taken care of you. Felt that smell after the rag used for a ‘bath’ ran over a recent wound and accidentally drew blood.

“I have a commission for you, dear,” he said with a sigh resting back against the chair.

“I’m not taking—”

“The main room’s roof is something like this.” He motioned towards above both of you, leaning his head back against the backrest as he inspected the height and width of the roof again along with you. “I want a painting that captures the manor’s essence. Denote I want something on the roof, on the structure, not something to hang. Make sure it matches the chandelier, as well, I am not planning on changing it so soon, Mx. Painter.”

You blinked, examining the roof. You couldn’t help but listen to what he was saying. He paid well, after all, never questioning your values, aside from the rich tipping, and you never had to think a lot for his commissions—it was as if Hephaestus stood by your side each time.

“You can have the room you were in this morning,” he continued speaking, “you can go back to your place to grab your stuff or I can fix someone to do so for you, you’ll get help either way. Do we have an agreement, dear?” He lifted his head to look at you. You were hesitant, but nodded firmly. “Okay. Reminder of no booze indoors nor smoking. It ruins the antiques.”

You wanted to twist your mouth, maybe complain, but you bit your tongue and thought first. “Right. And I’ll do it myself. Thank you.”

          There was something about Gerard’s manor that you couldn’t quite place your finger in. Firstly, you were in love with its style because it wasn’t dark as in how the houses downtown were dark to avoid staining with the ashes that indicated the reign of the Industrial Revolution, but dark in a way that reminded you of Byron and Poe, decorated with antiques that you would never dare step too close. Secondly, you didn’t understand how it could be only Gerard in such an enormous place. It didn’t even seem dusty, though he was never cleaning, and there was always food, though he was never cooking. It was curious, but not something you felt like you should worry about from atop the scaffold, covered in paint.

It was on Monday when you heard the front doors open and wondered whether Gerard had left without you noticing, but instead, you saw an unknown figure stride through the doorway, only stopping in the next room. You leaned back a little, and still, couldn’t see a lot but shadows cast on the ground and didn’t feel like standing up just to check who it was either since you could just wait for them to leave.

“Keeping food in the house?” The voice sounded teasing, for some reason, and you heard Gerard scoff in response along with the rustling of papers.

The talk with the stranger didn’t last that long, with a little over ten minutes of words you couldn’t decipher, finishing with the sound of footsteps approaching until they seemed to stop near the scaffold. You leaned over your elbow to look down, met with two pairs of eyes staring right back at you, and the entertainment that played in Gerard’s eyes contrasted with the disinterest of the visitor. Like someone who knows the end of the book you’re still reading.

“This is Mx. Painter, (y/n) (l/n),” Gerard broke the silence. “They’ve been working on the ballroom’s roof for a while now, and I think I might have them repaint the dining room’s as well.”

“Don’t be pretentious,” the stranger chuckled, “it’s been ages since you’ve thrown a ball or received anyone for dinner.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t happen again,” he said matter-of-factly with a small grin. “This is Raymond Toro, (y/n), but you can call him Ray. You might know him from the papers, regarding the city’s cultural department, since it’s what he takes care of.”

A glimpse of mockery took over Ray’s face, but it disappeared as soon as it appeared, contained by a small smile disguised in the context of his greeting. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you through Mx. Way.”

“Nice to meet you as well!” You waved in response, not letting your nervousness stop you from smiling in response; being on good terms with the director of the culture department could grant you privileges you’d only dreamed of.

“You seem to be doing a great job there!” Ray ignored your thanks, turning his attention to Gerard. “Don’t forget to invite me over when it’s done.”

Gerard hummed and looked up at the ongoing painting on the roof. “Don’t worry. It’ll be celebrated the right way. As you said, it’s been ages since I’ve thrown a ball, so it wouldn’t hurt to change that.”

Despite the curiosity about it, you didn’t question anything. You had been to many balls, but never once one thrown by him. You wondered if it would be something like the Iero’s balls, though more refined and with that dark touch the mansion had; something stung in your chest at the thought he wouldn’t give attention to you like when he accompanied you to other balls since he’d be the center of everything, this time.

Shaking your head to yourself, you let you two continue the conversation without you and took some of the solvent to mix it with the paint that was already growing thicker on the palette; a hiss escaped your lips when solvent trailed down your hand and between your fingers, revealing a wound you hadn’t quite noticed, along with how the conversation near the scaffold fell silent at the same time. Must’ve been the palette knife.

Later in the same day, the sun had already set and you had finished your night meal when you decided to use the free time to wander around the manor. You couldn’t see much of the back garden since the moon, despite being high in the sky, was shielded by clouds, but still could make out some shapes of the statues out there—one in the middle of the fountain and a couple others near the table used for afternoon teas.

You absentmindedly scratched the healing wound over your knuckle, observing the stars above you when hands resting on your hips had you jumping, turning around to see Gerard there with a toothy grin; something seemed weird about his smile, but you couldn’t really identify what it was.

“How are you feeling, Mx. Painter, dear? Is there anything you might need?” Gerard smiled softly as he took a step to stand by your side, keeping a hand on your hip.

“I’m good, don’t worry!” You nodded, feeling your face heat up at the closeness. For some reason, his proximity didn’t expel heat. He was such a... peculiar person. “‘M just appreciating the night and the manor. I never really explored it, so... I hope it’s not a problem!”

“No, of course not!” Gerard gave your hip a soft squeeze, and it wasn’t any different from the way he would squeeze your hip with a small smile at the end of a dance during the balls, maybe just a little more intimate. Nothing that would bother you. “I never set any boundary regarding the back garden, so you’re all free to wander.”

“Thank you... And how have you been, by the way?” You felt the need to ask—after all, Gerard had been doing so much for you, more than he should, as a commissioner, but then again, it wasn’t exactly something you’d not expect coming from someone from the richest and eccentric parts of the society, like him. “Anything more I can do for you?”

“I’m fine, fine!” He nodded frantically, using his free hand to push one of his strands to behind his ear. “I’m quite anxious to see how your painting is going to come out, frankly. You always do such a good job.”

A feeling stirred in your chest and compelled you to look away from him, sketching a small smile. “Well, it’s nothing. I think you deserve it, after all. I sort of needed that.”

Gerard hummed. “I see. Just don’t think I did it out of pity; I did it because I trust you to do a job worthy of being exposed all the time like that.” His gloved hand touched your face, and you turned to look at him by instinct; his eyes didn’t meet yours, though, instead gazing at your cheekbone before you could feel his fingers grazing against the skin. “You got some paint here, dear,” he said softly—watching his lips from close could be so mesmerizing. “Be careful, please, you know it can be toxic.”

“Not this kind of paint, don’t worry.”

“You never know, Mx. Painter.” His eyes finally met you, with entertainment playing in them. Despite finishing to clean the paint away, he never retreated his hand.

“You can call me (y/n), y’know. I feel weird calling you Gerard when you call me like this all the time.” Holding eye contact with him felt like the hardest and easiest thing at the same time; as much as you wanted to look away and hide along with your shyness, you couldn’t physically bring yourself into stopping gazing into his hazel eyes. They seemed deep, almost like lakes.

Gerard breathed a chuckle. “I’m afraid I can’t, dear. It’s like a little special nickname. If you don’t like it, though—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, shaking your head lightly.

A wide smile adorned Gerard’s face as he seemed to look back at you with the same intensity you gazed at him, standing there with you for what seemed like forever. Only a sudden chirping sound followed by fluttering had both of you looking away, whipping your heads at the same time to see a bat flying by.

“I fear it’s already late, my dear.” Gerard’s touch abandoned your cheek to take your hand in his instead as his other hand fell to his side. “I wish you a good night. I will be around if you need anything, all you have to do is to call.”

“Alright,” you mumbled with a nod, helplessly feeling awkward by how well Gerard treated you despite how he was always doing that ever since he met you. “A good night to you too.”

With a hum, Gerard pressed a kiss to your hand, right above the fresh wound.

          It was dumb, stupid, even, nonetheless, spending so much time with Gerard was already doing things to your mind. Even since the night he met you observing the back garden, every little moment you shared with him had been getting stuck in your mind for days, leaving you with a distant gaze while lost in thoughts. Maybe it had to do with being alone there and only painting for days—that excuse could quickly be debunked with how he always allowed you to have pauses and free days according to how you judged necessary, but you needed something to hold onto—, only leaving you longing for more and more of his touches.

In addition, Gerard had been showing up less this week. He mentioned something about it being a busy week of meetings and sorts, and even if his presence was only occasional and silent, you couldn’t help but miss having him around. In his absence, the second floor was a hard no and the mansion was reduced to kitchen/main room/living room/bedroom/bathroom to you, aside from the outdoors. He wouldn’t be there if you got lost and you didn’t want to invade his privacy in any way.

The emptiness in the manor—that already felt empty with him in it—caused a growing inquietness in your chest, which didn’t dare to let you sleep for longer than a couple of consecutive hours during the night without waking up and tossing around for at least thirty minutes between them. This time, it had already been past an hour and nothing seemed to help.

You grabbed the candle holder and lit the wick, making sure the flame was stable before you could get up from the bed and leave the bedroom. The front door’s creak sounded deafening with the silence of the night, it didn’t matter either way, if you were the only one there, and you sat on the step to the doorway with the candle set beside you, protected by the doorway from the breezes that would eventually pick up speed.

The middle of the sky was clear, showing the moon and stars, but the ground was covered in a thick fog to the top of the forests that surrounded the place, in a way it glowed silver under the full moon. A shiver ran down your spine; your night clothes could shield you away only from most of the chilly night air, and the candle could only do so little.

Something shifted among the fog and the darkness—you gulped and narrowed your eyes, hoping it was only a nightly creature that could be kept out of the house by a locked door. It kept approaching, however. It made your fingers twitch and your lungs hold the breath you’d pushed in with a gasp. You were ready to stand up when you could finally recognize the thick coat that involved the figure who walked towards you and the sight of their pale skin under the moonlight contrasting with the dark hair comforted you.

“Gerard!” You gasped when he was close enough, moving to give him a hug. “You scared me, I thought it was some animal, maybe some invader, even if you said no one ever comes around here...”

“(Y/n)! What are you doing out here so late?” He was a little hesitant, but hugged you back firmly. His voice wasn’t as soft as it usually was, actually tight in his chest.

“I had trouble sleeping, so I thought sitting out here would help.” You gulped when you felt his grip tightening around you—you loved his embraces, you really did, only when they didn’t feel off like this.

“Oh, dear,” he mumbled as if he lamented something, his face burying in the crook of your neck as he inhaled deeply, shakily. “Right now? Out of all days, out of all time?”

“Ger—” A gasp cut you off in result of the sharp pain that pierced your neck, along with something wet and warm; it lasted for a few seconds before growing less intense and melting into something that was more of a constant discomfort while your consciousness threatened to slip away from your gasp, your head growing light and dizzy. “Gerard...” you mumbled again, holding weakly onto his coat.

“I’m sorry, my dear!” He pulled away, and something warm trailed down your neck and wet your nightgown at the same time a strong metallic smell filled your nostrils. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled before cold lips met yours, and a taste as metallic as the smell invaded your mouth before you were finally swallowed by darkness.

 ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

[dimension20npcofalltime]

Preliminary Round C

Propaganda under the cut (May contain spoilers for one or more of the campaigns listed above)

Princess Elody of Greenleigh - Joined the warfront in Greenleigh against Snowhold. Weilds the Golden Ball as a mace. Met Gerard in his frog form as a child and fell in love with him.

Drago - He is sweet, You should like him!

Gnosis - A fragment of the organic, highly advanced artificial intelligence that inhabits the core of Rubian V. Takes the form of a compressed spiral otherwise known as clippy. Feels super good to interface with.

Princeps Zortch - The princeps of Rubian 5 but far more importantly, the cook on The Wurst!

Helio - If he didn't suck the way he did, where would kristen be now?

Robert Moses - "I dunno, he's really hot"

Madam Silvane - owns the shop where adeine gets her jacket

Caremelinda Rocks - Tragic figure. Deserves the world. Tries so hard to hold everything together but the people she loves keeps fucking dying. Still kind. Still a queen.

Arthur Aguefort - Brennan's archetypical wizard. The wizard voice. The buffoonery. He destroyed the sun out of spite. Chronomancy. Just dunking on wizards. An unserious mentor for an unserious world.

Bubble Glitterdew - Biz’s mom

[impishtubist]

I’m not going to lie, the idea that Peter betraying everyone was the fault of those he betrayed is easily one of my most hated interpretations. The idea that we are laying the blame for being murdered on James (and Lily considering she was likely hanging out the Peter before his Gerard, since she started dating James their last year of school and Peter became a spy a year before their deaths, meaning there’s roughly 3 years between Lily entering the Marauders’ circle as James girlfriend and Peter turning to Voldemort) is just unfathomable to me. Sirius even gives us a pretty likely reason for why Peter turned: Peter would side with whoever he thought was strongest and if I remember correctly, Voldemort was winning the war until Harry defeated him; this means that Peter turned because he thought Voldemort would win and if he became a spy, he’d survive. And even if he was treated badly by his friends—and we only see this in SWM, during which James comments that Peter should know the signs of a werewolf considering he’s with one every single month and Sirius tells James to stop showing off because Peter is applauding him* and this is almost certainly causing Sirius secondhand embarrassment—that still doesn’t mean it’s their fault the man is a traitor. I’m sorry, but having people being rude to you does not mean deciding “hey, I’m going to join the organization that is slaughtering people and waging war” is justified. If Peter hated the way they treated him, he should have just cut them out of his life. From what we see of Peter, I think that Peter betrayed everyone to save his own skin, lived as a rat for years because this act backfired spectacularly and he had a target on his back from any Death Eaters who dodged Azkaban but might have held a grudge over Voldemort dying/any fallout they experienced, and then turned back to Voldemort because he had no other options after everything and resurrecting Voldemort might have earned him leniency.

*Plus, this is kind of weird to do. We know, from the very book this occurs in, that James used to play with the Snitch pretty frequently, so this isn’t new behavior or anything the Marauders haven’t seen before. Peter is acting like he’s never seen this before. Even if this is the first incident of James playing with the Snitch, Peter has seen Quidditch games, he’d have witnessed Seekers in action, so it’s not something novel. Also, like, that’s supposed to be one of his best friends, why is he acting like a fanboy? I encourage my friends and of course I’m thrilled for them when they do well, but uh, I’m not literally clapping for them if they’re essentially throwing and catching a ball, this is odd. Am I just weird or something?

Yeah, exactly, it's stated pretty clearly in the text why Peter betrayed them: he's a coward who wanted to save his own skin, and so he sided with the person he thought was winning at the time. He wanted the protection he thought Voldy could provide. It's not because the MPP crew were mean to him-you don't get people killed just because they're rude to you, lmao.

[asksuccubussides]

Janus and Virgil - Favorite childhood memory?

"Oh well that time I discovered the still alive clone of Mary Shelley must definitely be up there" janus immediately snarked out "As well as my short but quite personality building escapade with Liza Minelli that one ti-"

"Dude Why are you bullshitting" Virgil, who was sitting next to him, asked.

"Don't cut me off. That's rude. Did your manners get lost along with your parents"

Virgil parsed his lips to respond before letting up into a laugh that he tried to conceal "I'm just wondering why you're stalling for time or can you not be arsed. Just say some memory......Like the uhh cat from Cats"

"Nice broadway reference" Jan flicked one his friend's emo bangs.

"I trieddd"

"But yes, just like any normal person I have a favorite childhood memory pre planned. That's how you can tell if someone is well adjusted"

The emo gave him a silent blare for a moment before continuing "Well my favorite memory is that time this uh couple wanted to adopt me-"

"As usual. The couples proper loved him"

"Whatever. But uh I didn't want to get adopted so I bit one of them and the lady got Rabies! I didn't have rabies so the doctors have no idea how it happened but it did and it meant I didn't get adopted. It was kind of awesome-"

Janus leant his head against his hand "Really? That is your favorite memory. Well my dear I did not think you were that morbid"

Virgil rolled his eyes "My favorite part was uhh afterwards when I had been declared officially rabies free and I got to uhhhh returnbackandseeyou" He mumbled the last part with immense speed.

"What was that my cheeky darling?" Janus had a shit eating smirk on his lips.

"I got to return back to the orphanage and uhh see your ugly fucking face or something"

"My ugly fucking face" His smile widened as he repeated it.

He pulled at his hoodie sleeve to have a reason to avert his eyes "You were so happy to see me and that memory has always stuck with me......Okay that was too bloody sappy, I need to go listen to Gerard Way screaming into my air to level that out"

"Ah-"

"AND THAT BEING MY FAVORITE MEMORY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH US HAVING OUR PHASE OF PLAYING BOYFRIEND GIRLFRIEND AROUND THAT SAME TIME"

Janus took a very slow blink before replying "Those things weren't even connected in my mind"

Virgil's cheeks were as red as christmastree balls "Me neither. Just uh wanted to clarify. Dude" He made some vague hand gestures before settling on fiddling with the loose bits of his nail polish.

"Hmmm...Well after thinking I believe my favorite memory was our class going to see Hedda Gabler live in 9th grade. It really opened my eyes to the classics. widened my horizons if you well. It was around that same time I got into Virginia Woolf, Jekyll and Hyde, Cabaret, plays in general. basically all of the building blocks for my charismatic and charming personality that isn't pretentious at all"

Janus sent you a nice wide smile right after finishing speaking but was caught off guard as Virgil hit him with a pillow.

"Here I go being bloody sappy and your memory is some school thing. You fucking nerd" Virgil said. "Muppet-nerd-fuck-dummy"

"At least my fashion sense has evolved since then" He teased before flicking the other man's bangs again to which Virgil hit him with the pillow once more knocking his beanie right off.

"At least I kept growing past 9th grade!"

"At least I've never had to buy a guitar I couldn't play solely to have it in my room to seem cooler. Whoopsie-doo bitch darling"

"At least I was sometimes at risk of actually being adopted,,,,,,,you daft fuck"

This teasing continued for 5 more minutes before they continued (play) arguing for another few minutes about who had won before finally moving on with the rest of their day.

Also this ask inspired me to draw Jan and Viv as kids

[mikeywayarchive]

Mikey Way talks bass heroes, 'Bowie moments' and his signature Squier

By Matthew Parker published February 27, 2013

My Chemical Romance's bassman interviewed

Full interview under the cut:

BASS EXPO 2013: My Chemical Romance are a band that have polarised opinions, angered newspapers, formed an army of extremely loyal fans the world over and managed to keep their heads in the process. But despite their formidable live reputation, their musicianship is often overlooked in favour of whatever controversy the press has decided to attribute to the band that month.

In attempt to rectify this, we spoke to bassist Mikey Way and picked his brains about his early influences, his gear preferences and the development of his signature Squier Mustang bass.

What's your very first memory of the bass guitar?

"My very first memory of the bass guitar - I was about three years old and heard Another One Bites The Dust by Queen on the radio. It was burned into my skull from that moment on, and became a benchmark for bass lines in my mind."

Do you remember the first time you made a breakthrough with your bass playing - the first time you thought 'This is for me'?

"My first breakthrough with bass playing was during one of the first MCR practices in December of 2001. Gerard [Way, frontman] and Ray Toro [lead guitar] both coached me, as I hadn't had a great deal of bass experience up to that point. When I got the picking pattern/timing for [early MCR track] Our Lady of Sorrows down, I had a total 'wow' moment and knew not only did I love it, but I would play the bass forever."

What, for you, is the key to be being a good bass player?

"In my opinion, the key to being a good bass player is rhythm and timing. Bass is what the drummer plays from mostly and everybody goes off the drummers beat."

What MCR song has presented the biggest challenge for you as a bass player and why?

"I would say the song that presented the biggest challenge for me was Planetary (Go!) [from MCR's fourth album Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys]. That song takes a great deal of dexterity to play live, and in turn has made me a better player."

MCR has, for better or worse, had a variety of drummers in its 10 year + history. What impact has that had on your role in the band's rhythm section?

"I can honestly say it benefited me greatly. I've played with five drummers in MCR, either onstage or in the studio and jammed with countless others. They each had different styles and nuances, so I was able to learn a lot from each of them."

Gerard has spoken before about 'Bowie moments' - the 'pinch yourself' experiences the band occasionally gets to enjoy. What have been your favourite Bowie moments with MCR?

"I have been very fortunate to have had many of those moments in our career thus far. Some highlight 'Bowie/pinch me moments' being -the reveal of The Black Parade in London back in '06, headlining Reading and Leeds in 2012, being the first American band in 30 something years to play Vietnam, and being the last band to play in Time Square before the ball dropped."

Have you ever met any of your bass playing heroes? Who's inspiring you currently?

"I've been able to meet many of my bass heroes through the years luckily! Matt Sharp's bass playing on the first two Weezer albums never fails to inspire me."

Do you have a favourite bass line of all time? What is it and why?

"Oh wow, this is a toughie! It's so hard to pick just one, but any of Louis Johnson's bass lines on Michael Jackson's Thriller album take the cake. They are still stuck in my head to this day, after hearing them almost 30 years ago. They are powerful and infectious."

What do you look for when you're buying a bass?

"When I'm buying a bass I look for equal parts sound, playability and vibe. Not only do I want it to sound and play amazing, but its an added bonus when it has interesting "battle damage" or an interesting color pattern that I've never seen before."

You recently released a signature Squier Mustang bass. How did that come about? How does it feel to have your name on a guitar?

"Before, we were discussing 'pinch yourself' moments, and getting my own signature Squier Mustang bass is on that list. I had been sponsored by Fender through most of my time in MCR. I had contacted them about making a custom bass and they hit me back saying they wanted to give me a signature model! To me, this is one of my greatest accomplishments.

"I started playing electric guitar at 14/15, and it was a Fender Stratocaster. My first bass was a Squier P Bass and I haven't used anything but Fender onstage ever since. To say its a tremendous honour and privilege would be an understatement. At least once a day I think about it, and it makes me smile ear to ear."

What is it about the Mustang bass that draws you to that model? What features were you keen to incorporate?

I was drawn to the Mustang because, simply put, they are a hell of a lot of fun to play - especially in a live setting [and] I've always really wanted a Mustang, with a humbucker, and a competition stripe (it's classic and classy!). I've always been in love with flake/sparkle finishes as well; so if you stir all of that up in one - you have my signature model."

What other bass gear do you use? (Amps, pedals etc.) And why?

"As far as other bass equipment - I use the Fender Super Bass Man. From the minute I took it out of the box I was in love, and won't use anything else. Not only does it sound HUGE, but the range of sounds and tones you can get is uncanny. Highly recommended.

"As far as pedals go, I always love the Memory Man and Bass Big Muff/regular Big Muff from Electro-Harmonix. I've been using a Big Muff for distortion since I started playing the electric guitar and swear by it."

Do you use your signature bass on stage?

"Yes, I absolutely do. It's my weapon of choice, badge of honor, and good luck charm all rolled into one."

[chronicowboy]

my other pitch for the golf tutoring of one evan buckley pre-undercover op with gerard is that chimney is actually really fucking good at golf and offers it up as a brother-in-law bonding activity but buck is so supremely bad that it has chimney questioning his own sanity. so another cheesy sports movie montage kind of deal. it starts out very chill, chim as a patient teacher, buck a terrible student. it deteriorates quickly. buck hits a shot, chimney throws his arms up in the air and walks away for a breather, buck hits another ball, chim drags his hands down his face and laments his life choices, buck hits a ball, chim bangs his head against the wall, buck hits a ball, chim lays down on the floor and throws a full on toddler temper tantrum, buck hits a ball, chim is rocking back and forth in the corner pulling at his hair, buck hits several balls in quick succession. the music cuts off abruptly as we get a shot of chimney staring at five empty shot glasses in the golf bar. the music starts up again, etc.

[sunnyie-eve]

9 | He did it

Series: Indispensable | Teen Wolf

Paring:  (Stiles Stilinski x OFC Martin)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Might be a few mistakes

| MASTERLIST |

~~~

"Did I miss anything?" I ask as the guys come out for practice.

"Scott said there's another werewolf on the team." Stiles whispers as I move closer to them.

"Who?" I ask looking around at the team.

"I couldn't tell who it was." Scott tells us.

"What if you can get him one-on-one? Would that help?" Stiles asks him.

"Yeah." Scott agrees making Stiles get up rushing off with an idea.

"Who could it be?" I keep looking at all they guys.

"We'll find out soon. I guess." Scott sighs as Stiles runs back.

"I told coach you're switching with Danny for the day." Stiles lets Scott know.

"But I hate playing goal." Scott tells them and I catch on.

"Remember when Stiles said he had an idea? That is the idea." I tell Scott.

"Oh." He nods his head.

"There we go." Stiles tells him.

"What's the idea?" Scott asks making us look at him.

"I seriously don't understand how you survive without me sometimes." Stiles tells him.

"Let's go! Line it up! Faster! Make daddy proud." Coach blows the whistle. Multiple times Scott runs out of the goal to knock down the other guys to get a good sniff of them.

As I watch I notice it was Isaac's turn and watch them hit each other like it was in slow motion in the air before landing. They both just stare at each other till we see Noah and other officers show up asking for Isaac. "His father's dead. They think he was murdered." Scott listens in on the conversation.

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" I ask him. I didn't know Isaac that well but I never would think of him a killer even as a werewolf. Plus a full moon hasn't happened yet.

"Why?" Stiles asks me.

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for 24 hours. Like over night... during the full moon." I tell the guys.

"How good are these holding cells at holding people?" Scott looks at Stiles.

"People, good. Werewolves, probably both that good." He tells him.

"Stiles remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill? He does." Scott tells us.

While in Mr. Harris class I listen to the guys conversation from my seat behind them. "Why would Derek choose Isaac?" I ask the guys.

"Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you it could kill you. And maybe teenagers have a better chance of surviving." Stiles whispers to us.

"Doesn't being a teenager mean your dad can't hold him?" Scott asks.

"Well, not unless they have solid evidence. Or a witness. Wait. Danny. Where's Jackson?" Stiles turns to Danny's table.

"In the principal's office talking to your dad." He tells him.

"What? Why?" Stiles asks.

"Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac." He tells him.

"Witness" I say.

"We gotta get to the principal's office." Stiles tells us.

"How?" Scott asks making Stiles make a paper ball.

"Everyone please turn to page 73." Stiles throws the ball at Mr. Harris head. "Who in the hell did that?" He turns around. Stiles points at Scott, Scott points at me, and I point at Stiles so he sends all three of us to the principal's office.

We sit outside and we listen in to what was being said inside the room. When Noah comes out Stiles tries to hide his face with a magazine, Scott just looks at Noah, and I give a small smile and wave. "Hi, Scott, Julia." Noah says ignoring his son.

"Bye." I smile as he walks off.

"Boys, young lady." We turn our head to see Allison's grandfather. "Come on in." We look at each other then go inside the office. "Scott McCall. Academically not the most accomplished, but I see you have become quite the star athlete. Miss Julia Martin. Straight A student with a high IQ, helps tutor other students, and in the art club. Mr. Stilinski. Oh, perfect grades but little to no extracurriculars. Maybe you should try lacrosse." Gerard tells us.

"Oh, actually I'm already-,"

Gerard cuts him off, "Hold on. McCall. You're the Scott that was dating my granddaughter." He looks at Scott.

"We were dating but not anymore. Not dating, not seeing any of each other or doing anything with each other. At all." Scott gets nervous.

"Relax, Scott, you look like you're about to crack a cyanide pill with your teeth." Gerard tells him.

"Just a hard breakup." Scott tells him.

"Oh, that's too bad. You seem like a pretty nice kid to me. Now listen, guys. Yes, I am the principal, but I really don't want you to think of me as the enemy." He tells the three of us.

"Heh, is that so?" I give Stiles a look.

"However, this being my first day, I do need to support my teachers. So unfortunately someone is going to have to take the fall and stay behind for detention." He tells us so Scott and I look over at Stiles since he was the one to throw the paper and it was his idea to get sent here. He looks at us and sighs not happy about it.

"Stiles and I will stay behind for detention together. It was mostly our fault getting sent here and Scott got dragged into." I lie to Gerard.

"I'll let Mr. Harris know he'll see you both after school for detention." He lets us leave the office.

"Why did you volunteer yourself too? Couldn't you take the whole fault?" Stiles groans as Scott runs off.

"No, because you threw the paper ball. This was your whole idea to get us here." I explain to him. "I was just being nice so you won't be alone with Harris. I'll go back and lie saying you made me say that so you wouldn't be alone." I point back at the office turning slowly.

"No!" He grabs my arm walking us to our next class.

Once the day was over we head to Harris's classroom. "I'm not surprised to see that it's you both staying here. Put your phones on my desk take a seat where ever. I don't care if it's next to each other but no talking or I will move you two away from each other." Harris says as we walk through his door.

"What about for homework?" I ask.

"No." He groans. S

tiles and I sit next to each other and both sigh looking at the clock. I pull out some of my books and journals and start to write to talk to Stiles. I have a feeling he is going keep us late and I don't mean an hour and a half.I slide the paper over to him to read.

~ I hate this dude.

~I'm sure everyone does.

~ Thanks for joining me...

~ You're welcome. I had nothing else to do so why not? Plus normally you drag me around so... this is nothing. Except bad egg doing papers.

~ He looks more like a turtle than an egg.

I had to cover my mouth from laughing making Stiles silent laugh at me for almost making a noise. "If I hear one peep from either of you... I'll make you stay longer than an hour and a half." Harris glances up at us. Stiles rolls his eyes letting out a sigh.

~ Yeah, I can see that.

~ As you said in the past, if he hates us so much why teach!

~ Because he's miserable and wants us to be too.

~ He'll die alone because no woman is gonna want a mean sarcastic science teacher.

Stiles passes me the paper and Mr. Harris snatches it's from us reading over it. "Mr. Stilinski, Miss Martin, I hope both enjoy staying super late because you both will be leaving with the sun is no longer up. Now separate yourselves for each other so there will be no note passing, don't even look at each other till you leave this room. I know it might be hard for you both but couples annoy me." Harris tells us.

"We aren't a couple." We tell him.

"There it is... your voice." We both get up.

Stiles sits on the other side of the table facing the back of the room while I take a seat at the front facing the front. Slowly the hours pass and Harris says we could leave now so we get our phones back leaving.

"Hey, sorry, Harris literally just let me and Julia out of detention. Literally. And he had our phones the whole frickin' time." Stiles calls Allison back. "Wait, what guy?" I listen to Stiles. "They're sending him to the station for Isaac." I stop watching Stiles. "What was it?" He asks her.

"Yeah, wolfsbane. It means they're gonna kill him." I take his phone from him.

"Allison, do whatever you can to slow him down so we can try to get to Isaac and save him." I tell her.

"Okay, I'll call you when I do." She hangs up and we get in his jeep. We call Scott and come up with a plan.

"Hey, did you slow him down? All right, well, uh, we're headed to the station right now. Isaac's. Yeah, but not a very good one. And unfortunately we don't really have time to come up with anything better." Stiles tells Allison then hangs up.

"I'm worried about Isaac. From the times I've talk to him he's a really nice guy but now he's a werewolf on his first moon." I look out the window at the moon.

"Hopefully this plan works then." He says driving a little faster so we can pick up Derek.

"Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father's office. The problem is getting past the front desk." Stiles tells Derek.

"I'll distract her." Derek starts to get out but Stiles stops him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa-you? You're not going in there. I'm taking my hand off." He says after seeing Derek glare at it.

"I was exonerated." Derek lets him know.

"You're still a person of interest." Stiles add.

"An innocent person."

"An - you? Yeah, right! Okay, fine. What's your plan?" Stiles gives up.

"To distract her." I giggle at Derek's tone and facial expression.

"Uh - huh. How? By punching her in the face? Unh." Stiles asks him.

"Heh, by talking to her." Derek tells him.

"Okay, all right. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?" Derek doesn't say anything but glances back at me. "Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?" Stiles ask so he thinks.

"I'm thinking about punching you in the face." Derek nods his head.

"Derek, just go distract her." I pat the seat. Derek gives me a wink before getting out going inside and we follow.

"Good evening, how can I help - you?" The Deputy was taken by Derek's looks.

"Um, I had a question. Um, sorry I'm a little - a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone..." Derek talks to her as we sneak past.

"Like me?" She asks. "Oh, I was gonna say so incredibly beautiful but, yeah, I guess that'd be the same thing." He tells her as we rush to the office.

"Keep on eye on him." Stiles tells me so I wait for Derek but a few seconds later I get bored so I go look for Stiles.

When the fire alarm goes off I pick up my pace going to find the cells and rush in to see Isaac tackle the hunter. I see Stiles on the floor and he grabs my arm pulling me down crawling backing up against the wall. When Derek comes in Isaac looks at him but then us taking a step forward making Stiles wraps me in his arms. Derek step between us roaring at him, causing Isaac going straight in to a submissive scared mood, curling into a hall getting down whining turning back to normal.

"How did you do that?" Stiles asks breathing heavy letting me go.

"I'm the Alpha." Derek turns to us.

"You need to get him out now. I'm sure Stiles dad will be here soon." I get up walking over to Derek who turns to Isaac. "Hey, Isaac." I walk up to him bending down. "You gotta get up. Derek will get you somewhere safe." I help him up then Derek gets him out.

"What do we do about him?" Stiles stands next to me looking at the passes out hunter.

"I have no clue." We just stare at him and his dad walks in looking at the hunter then us waiting for an answer. Stiles looks back at the empty cell, his dad, the hunter then back at his dad.

"Uh, he did it." He says pointing at the man.

"We will have a talk at home young man. Just tell take Julia home, now." Noah tells him so we rush out to the jeep.

"Thank you for trying to protect me with the wrapping your arms around me." I laugh as we drive to my house.

"That, that was nothing you're welcome. I gotta keep you around because my dad goes easier on me when you are around." He says making us laugh.

"I believe that because I can see how mad he is by his eyes." I agree.

"Also what the hell was with Derek giving you a wink?" Stiles asks.

"He knew I knew he could distract her." I let him know.

"And how is that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"He's attractive..." I look out.

"I'm disappointed in you." He back hands me.

[agent-scotch]

Netflix's The Gentlemen Rant/Review (Spoilers)

If you've never seen a Guy Ritchie mob movie then you might enjoy yourself.

But if you're like me then you kinda - disappointed. and here is a rant:

I genuinely thought this was gonna be expanding on the world or characters of Gentlemen movie. I know they would not have the same cast but at least link them to the original story. But instead an entire 2 episode of retelling.

Susie Glass, not gonna lie I was hoping when she mentioned her DAD it would be in reference to the movie. Like maybe the Pearsons had a daughter that is now taking over the business! Like what is with franchises that don't like to touch or can cameos of the source material. She's kind of a spin on Rosie and kinda not.

I loved it when Rosie pulled out a gun, like I liked that she was elegant and posh but also mean despite her husband. Like wouldn't it be great if Susie was the daughter! I liked the mix of Matthew's southern accent amongst the diverse English accents.

The quick talking was fun but the character are watered down as fuck. Ritchie's movie and character are FUN and Kinda Cartoonish but that's what so fun about them! Colin Farrel as Coach, Hugh Grant as Fletcher. These ones are so serious which I get because it needs to span a TV series but this is a guy Ritchie spin off, not Succession.

Not sure if people notice that Guy Ritchie character structures are like a Shakespeare play. He spends the same amount of time introducing the low level criminals, side characters and the high end gangsters. They are interwoven by the same goal, consequences, and share 1 degree of separation wether they know or not.

In the Tv show, the main focus is the Duke and Susie, mainly the Duke and nothing ever comes back to bite him in the ass in the future the way it does in Ritchie's movies.

I will say there are some movie reference I appreciate:

the guns that blow the head off the guy (reference to lock stock)

there is a scene where Eddie pulls a cable to a pair of headphone (Reference to RocknRolla with One Two vs the Russians)

There is a chase scene that very much like Raymond's in the Gentlemen movie.

Finally the inconsistencies and editing. Good editing itself can be very comedic. Sometimes Richie skips directly showing a graphic scene to show the aftermath and let's the acting and script recall what happened - letting the audience's imagination wild. Example would be int he Gentlemen when The coach show the editor what happened between him and a pig. The Freddie's chicken sequence didn't need to pan out in order for the audience to understand how humiliating it is. If anything skip that, show Freddie crying and your brain will do the math. Equally and possibly more effective than actually showing it.

This goes for the scene where he accidentally pulls the chord to a pair of head phones in reference to RockNRolla. In RockNRolla, the two Russians pull the chord - LOUD music and to Gerard's face let's you know shits gonna get fucked up. and then it cuts.

In the Gentlemen, the chord is pulled and they duke it out. Which I guess yea but that point in the show there needed to be a fight scene.

But action sequence is misplaced.

In the first episode Eddie goes to a boxing match to find his brother who stole like 4 million pounds to gamble. Eddie confront brother but then walks away. As susie explains the truth about said gamble across the room Freddie. The shot of Eddie shakes more and more and the tiger roaring get louder and louder showing his growing anger. And you think Eddie, military man, he's gonna pink mist these the fuckers in the room! right? WRONG. HE JUST WALK OVER AND WAGS A FINGER.

Like I get it he's a duke....

In the gentlemen Movie Fletcher and Raymond recall a negotiation between Dry-eye and Micky where Micky suddenly shoots Dry-eye in the balls and lots of screaming. Cut back, it didn't actually happen and they just talked - Fletcher was just trying to spice up the story.

WHY DIDN'T THEY DO THAT. Why did they do they lion roaring and camera shaking, show him pink misting everyone and be like lol that was all in Eddy's head AND THEN he walks over and wags his finger.

And the only reason WHY I'm compiling about this whole shot of eddy being angry, camera shaking and lions roaring is that it only happens THE ONE TIME. They could have made it Eddy's thing where he's so close to snapping, it would have been part of his character but nah. that's it.

None of the characters really grow? Like Susie becomes more reckless but Eddy doesn't change much.....

This show is taking itself too seriously, and I love Ritchie movies cause they are goofy.

Ritchie did go from directing a couple episodes to only producing so that must have fucked things up.

So this is all I have to say for now.

[ireaditsoyoudonthaveto]

*legal trouble explaining post because this plotline is really funny.

So Frank, being Frank, is prone to illness and injury. Before the story starts, he had a bad case of food poisoning and had to take time off of work. Of course, that annoyed Brian because Frank is always sick and always taking time off of work. So Frank forced himself back to work too early into his illness and ended up having to run to the bathroom halfway through a piercing to hurl.

That piercing? Darren Haywood's balls. In piercing (I think--because everytime I go looking I either find corporate jargon or actual surgical photos) "breaching" is basically poking the piercing into something you're not supposed to. Like if a bellybutton piercing punctured the bowels, that'd be called a breach... I think (again--actual photos of real human organs). If you're a piercer and you'd like to correct me about the jargon in a mcr rpf fanfic, be my guest.

Anyway, Darren Haywood's pierced scrotum gets infected, and he slaps the shop with a lawsuit. He accuses Frank of "breaching the inner scrotum". Brian and Mikey both confront Frank about this, and he vehemently denies it even being possible--he's not a fucking amateur. They're convinced, and decide to fight the case. Ray and Mikey take Frank out drinking, as mentioned in Checkpoint 2, where they meet the Dancing Girl. Frank talks to her a bit then hands her off to Mikey. He goes to the bathroom, and is accosted by the skinheads, who are Darren Haywood's goons. They say they're going to cut off his balls, but the aforementioned head-splitting-open thing happens, which scares the skinheads away. Later, when Frank is escaping the hospital after the wrist-exploding incident, he sees the Dancing Girl again. She introduces herself as Maria, and shows him some funny pictures she has on her phone of some dumb guys--wait. Is that Darren fucking Haywood in a HOT TUB timestamped right after he got his fucking balls pierced?

He asks Maria to email him the pictures, and she agrees as long as she gets a call from Mikeyway. Frank uses Gerard's #catholicfeminism as a cudgel to get Mikey to call her, and the guilt trip eventually works. Mikey calls, Frank gets the pictures, Brian gets the pictures, and then they're home free. The case gets dropped before they go to court.

That, friends, is the tragic tale of Darren Haywood's fucked up, infected balls.

[dimension20npcofalltime]

Round 1D - Bracket Five [Dimension 20 NPC of All Time]

Princess Elody of Greenleigh vs Duchess Primsy Coldbottle

Propaganda under the cut

Princess Elody Greenleigh - She/her

Campaign: Neverafter

Who is she?

Princess Elody of Greenleigh is the wife of Gerard, formally the frog prince.

Why is she the NPC of All Time?

Joined the warfront in Greenleigh against Snowhold. Weilds the Golden Ball as a mace. Met Gerard in his frog form as a child and fell in love with him.

Duchess Primsy Coldbottle - She/her

Campaign: A Crown of Candy

Who is she?

Duchess Primsy Coldbottle is the sovereign ruler of the Dairy Islands, though she is not a direct heir to House Cheddar.

Why is she the NPC of All Time?

Love her accent, love that she's both young/innocent and incredibly competent as a leader, love that she's a sassy independent woman, who doesn't need no man, even on the brink of death.