#listen. listen op we need to kill you./j | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, Bucky

Pairing: Nomad!Steve / Fem!Reader / Bucky (Stucky)

Words: 5114

Summary: You and Steve are worried about Bucky and don’t know how to fix things.

Warnings: Angst, Explicit language, explicit sexual content (threesomes (MMF), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (M and F receiving), anal sex, double penetration), explicit descriptions of consensual violence, age appropriate alcohol consumption, SMUT!!!, 18+!!!

A/N: Merry Christmas and hoe hoe hoe! My promised filthy treat for you all: my very first Stucky fic! This was a lot of fun to write but ended up way different than I had originally imagined. The smut is actually pretty fluffy (as fluffy as you can get with a threesome I guess). This is technically a continuation of my original “Birthday Gift” Nomad!Steve fic, though it takes place like a year later. I hope you all enjoy and have a very merry holiday!

“How’s that feel, Buck?” You asked, setting the arc-welder back on the tool bench as you sat back.

He flexed his fingers, testing the repairs you made to the neural link. “Good. You know you didn’t have to stay with me. I could’ve handled it on my own.”

The rest of the team was out on a rescue mission in Sri Lanka while the two of you hung back at your compound. His new arm had been on the fritz for the past few days, and he didn’t want to risk it crapping out on him in the middle of an op. He hadn’t planned on you staying, too, though you’d never joined the team on any of the other missions so he didn’t know why he was surprised.

“Right, you’re the one with years of experience with Wakandan tech. I’m sure Shuri would love to have a little conference with you about the intricacies of vibranium based neural networks.” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes.

“Well, you don’t have to be mean about it.” He pouted, half-heartedly. It’d been a while since the two of you had some alone time, and he missed the banter.

You grinned at him. “Aww, Barnes, that’s nothing! Let’s test it out. C’mon, up.”

His smile disappeared quickly. “No, Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Jesus, Barnes. I’m not some little doll. We both need a workout. Besides, none of the other idiots ever wanna play knives with me. I know you miss it.”

You were right. Steve didn’t like relying on anything other than his fists since he gave up the shield and Nat and Sam definitely preferred guns if they were going to use any sort of weapon. But you and Bucky had a shared appreciation for the weight of a good blade in your hand.

“Fine.” He sighed. He knew you wouldn’t let up until he gave in, so he resigned himself to his fate.

He dragged his feet as he followed you to the gym. He’d been doing his best to avoid any close contact with you for the past few months. They’d been with you a little over a year now, ever since Siberia. When they found out about your history, Bucky bonded with you quickly over your shared tragedies.

But that only mattered so much, because you had Steve. And that was slowly killing Bucky.

He didn’t know how many more nights he could listen to the two of you. Granted, you managed to keep it down enough that the rest of the team didn’t notice anything, but his damn super soldier hearing made it seem like you were right next to him. The sounds of your wanton whimpers and low moans kept him up all night, his cock aching as he writhed in his sweat soaked sheets. He always had trouble looking at the two of you the morning after, and he could tell that things were slowly starting to get strained, but it was just too goddamn hard to be around you when he couldn’t have you, not that he would ever try. Steve was his best friend.

Of course, you had noticed how strange Barnes had been acting over the past few months, and you and Steve were starting to get worried. You were hoping that having some time, just the two of you, would help him loosen up and let you back in.

He arrived in the gym a few steps behind you and found you bouncing a sparring blade off the palm of your hand. You shot him a grin over your shoulder and tossed it to him, and he plucked it out of the air easily, giving a sigh at the familiar feeling as he spun it through his fingers. It would be nice to lose himself in a good spar.

“One or two, Buck?”

“One is good.” He said as he started to stretch himself out.

“Great.” You murmured, unzipping your hoodie and setting it aside before picking up a blade of your own and tossing it quickly between your hands, acclimating yourself to its weight. “Music ok?”

“Fine.” He didn’t know why you insisted on listening to music during your spar sessions, but he could admit it lent your fighting style a certain artistic flair.

The sounds of alt-J’s “Left Hand Free” came over the speakers and you let out a small sound of satisfaction. “Ahh, perfect. Alright, Barnes, I promise I’ll go easy on you.” You grinned at him as you tucked your blade against your wrist and dropped into a fighting stance.

He snorted at you as he headed to his corner. “Right, we’ll s… fuck!”

You barely gave him a chance to turn around before you were on him, your knee driving towards his midsection before you extended it at the last second to try to kick the knife out of his hand. He dodged at the last second but you were already ducking to sweep his legs out from under him. He dropped the knife in surprise as he went down and you caught it before it hit the ground and pounced on his chest, pressing both of your blades to his throat.

“Ha, that’s one for me!” You grinned down at him as you dropped his knife onto his chest before standing back up and heading back to your corner.

“You’re a cheater, Y/N.” He growled at you as he gained his feet, pissed he let you catch him off guard.

“Just preparing you for the real world, darling.” You shot him a wink as you shifted your weight back and forth, waiting for him to signal he was ready, this time.

His gut clenched when you called him that, and he had to steel himself. He was determined to not let you get under his skin today. He didn’t want things to get any more awkward.

You let him make the first move this time, and he ran at you full force, whipping his arm around to try to ram the blade into the side of your ribs. You blocked him with your forearm and he dropped the blade to catch it in his opposite hand and deliver a backhand blow to your side, which you just barely dodged. He brought his now empty fist up and drove it into your elbow and you dropped your blade with a grunt. He scooped it out of the air with the same hand as he sank to a kneeling position and brought the flat of the blade to rest at the juncture of your inner thigh on instinct, where your femoral artery would run. When he realized where his hand had landed, he drew it back with a hiss, dropping your knife at your feet.

“One for me.” He murmured, trying to cover the flush creeping over his face.

You didn’t notice, you were enjoying yourself too much. You flipped your blade up into the air with your toe and caught it before charging Bucky.

He barely had a second to prepare before you were flying off the mat towards his face. You looped one knee over his shoulder and the other around his upper back as you clenched your abdominal muscles then released them, whipping yourself back and flipping him over you until you landed on the mat with a slap and were straddling his chest. You started flipping your knife through your fingers when he brought his metal arm up and wrapped it around your waist, flinging you off him as he brought his knees to his chest and whipped himself into a crouching position.

You windmilled your legs until you were in a crouch of your own; chest bent low over one bent knee, your other leg extended to your side, holding your balance with one hand on the mat. He dove at you, trying to drive his blade towards your throat but you managed to wrap your thighs around his arm and your shins around his neck as you extended your legs and gripped his wrist, keeping in a hold. He brought his free hand around and punched you in the hip, knocking the air out of you as you buckled.

You managed to roll out from underneath him before he could bring the blunted blade to your chest and got him in a partial arm bar with your blade at his ribs at the same time he pressed his blade to your throat.

“Draw?” You asked after the two of you had stayed in that position for a beat.

“Draw.” He agreed as you released each other, rolling to his feet with a groan as you stayed on your back, breathing heavily. “Let’s take a quick break.”

“Yeah.” You sighed at him as you slowly climbed back to your feet and went to towel yourself off.

He grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge and tossed one to you before he started to chug. You held yours to your neck before taking a drink.

He watched you hungrily. You were damp with sweat and he was mesmerized by a stray bead of condensation that was traveling down the line of your neck to the valley between your breasts. Your hair was plastered to your scalp and your chest was still heaving. He imagined this was what you must look like after sex and had to school his thoughts immediately before they headed further down that path. He splashed himself in the face with some of his water to try to cool down.

You breathing had started to return to normal and you shot him a small smile, failing to notice how uncomfortable he was. “What d’you say, Barnes, one more round?”

He knew he should say no. He was having a hard time keeping his thoughts tamped down and was worried how his body would react if he had anymore close contact with you, but it was hard to care about that at this point. How much could one more round really hurt?

He tossed his empty bottle into the recycling bin and stalked back to his corner, not taking his eyes off you as you tossed your towel over the back of a bench and walked opposite him.

The two of you prowled around each other like a couple of cats, eyeing the other’s movements and trying to determine what your moves were going to be.

Bucky saw your eyes flick to the window for just a second, distracted by something outside, and he took his chance. He pounced on you, rolling the two of you over each other as he gripped the hand holding your knife and bent your wrist back until you dropped the blade. You wrenched your head back and connected with his face at the same time you drove your elbow into his diaphragm, causing him to release you.

You twisted your torso around and flipped yourself forward, bringing your knees to his shoulders and carrying your momentum forward to bring him to the mat with you kneeling on his chest.

He dropped his knife in the exchange but managed to bring a hand under your thigh and roll you until he had you in a half-nelson with top scissors, his upper body curled around yours as he pinned you to the mat.

His face was buried in your hair and he was inhaling your scent deeply before he could help himself. You were still struggling to get out of the hold when he tightened his grip around you with a growl. He could feel his cock hardening as it was pinned against the swell of your ass, but for the moment he didn’t care. He didn’t even feel you stop struggling, he just continued holding you in that position.

“Um, Barnes.” You murmured, your face pressed into the mat.

“Mmmm…”

“Bucky.” You said, more firmly this time.

“Shit.” He hissed as he released you and scrabbled backwards on the mat, holding one hand out to keep you away from him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Buck, it’s ok. It happens.” You said softly, a look of concern coming over your face when you saw how distressed he was.

“No, it’s not fucking ok. Goddamn it!” He drove his metal fist into the mat hard, making you jump. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait, Bucky…”

“No, just, leave me alone.” He said over his shoulder as he rushed out of the gym, determined to seclude himself in his room for the foreseeable future.

“Hey, Buck, how’s the new arm… whoa. Something happen?” The rest of the team had arrived back at the compound and Steve had come to check on the two of you. Bucky just charged past him without acknowledgement. “Everything ok, sweetheart?” He turned his intense blue eyes to you with concern. He had hoped you two might be able to get to the root of the awkwardness that had seemed to be growing between you three, but things sure seemed to be worse now that he was back.

He wrapped a massive arm around your waist to help you up from the mat and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“I dunno, baby. I’m pretty sure I figured out what the issue is. We should set aside some time tonight to talk. I think we should also lay off the PDA for a bit.”

He scoffed at that before taking a good look at you. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about it later.”

It took Bucky almost two days to come out of his room and when he did, he did his best to avoid you and Steve. Tensions in the house were high and it seemed everyone was walking on eggshells. You were hoping that a little Christmas celebration might help everyone loosen up.

It barely helped. Buck just sulked in a corner, nursing a glass of vodka and glowering at everything. At least everyone else seemed pretty cheery. He was at least grateful that he hadn’t had to listen to you and Steve fucking each other like animals for the past week. He had actually been able to get some sleep. But now the two of you were acting cagey. You kept giving each other longing looks before glancing furtively in his direction and he was pretty sure his restful nights were over. Everyone else started drunkenly up to bed once the early morning hours hit and it was eventually just the three of you sitting there in awkward silence.

You kept looking at him like you wanted to say something but didn’t know what, and all he could feel was a hollow ache in his chest every time you made eye contact.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone now. I’m sure you have your own celebrations you want to get to.” He said bitterly when Steve came to stand behind you and rested his hand on your shoulder.

“Shit, Buck, just wait.” You pleaded as he turned to go.

“No, Y/N it’s fine.”

“It’s not, Bucky.” Steve rumbled, his brow furrowed with worry.

“God, not you too, Rogers.” He said, exasperated.

“Bucky, please.” The catch in your voice startled him, and he turned back to you. “Just, come with us.” You whispered, extending a hand to him.

He wasn’t entirely sure he had heard you right, but then you were standing in front of him, brushing your mouth along the hollow of his throat as your hands rested against his chest.

He looked at Steve questioningly and was just met with a small smile as he started heading down the hall to your room. You drew Bucky along with you, softly kissing his neck as your hands wandered under his shirt to explore the plains of his back. He felt like he was in a dream state, his mind wrapped in a warm cocoon as he let you pull him along.

You reached your room and he felt you close the door behind you. He only had a moment to register Steve resting on a chair in the corner before your mouth was on his and all his other senses abandoned him.

You tongue moved past his lips softly and massaged his, drawing a moan from his chest. He wrapped his hands around your shoulders and buried his hands in your hair, holding your face to his like you were giving him oxygen.

He was drunk from the taste of you as he reluctantly pulled away to draw in a breath. Your scent filled his lungs as he sucked down air and he moved his hands to the front of your blouse as he ripped it open and slid it down your shoulders, exposing your breasts and making you sigh. His hands moved to swell of your chest as he ran his thumbs softly over the slope of your breasts, brushing them over your nipples and raising them to sensitive buds as he gazed at you.

He pressed his mouth to yours once more, running his tongue along the cushion of your bottom lip before his lips started traveling down your neck. His hands pressed against the small of your back as he guided you onto the bed. Once he had lain you down, they slipped down to your hips, following the band of your jeans to unbutton them and slide them down your thighs with your panties as his tongue laved over your nipple and you gave him one of those whimpers he had only heard through the walls before. The sound of it made him groan against your chest as he nuzzled you softly before kissing down the flat plain of your abdomen.

His hands brushed against the insides of your thighs as he worked his mouth lower and when they reached their apex he found you soaked with your arousal.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“Mmm, Bucky.” You sighed as his tongue brushed against the folds of your sex.

“Sshh, pretty girl.” He murmured as his fingers pulled you apart and exposed the small bud at the peak of your slit. He pressed his tongue against it softly before wrapping it in his lips and sucking.

“Oh, god.” Your breath rushed out of you as you arched yourself into him and you wound your fingers in his hair. His tongue massaged your clit languorously as he drew a single finger through the arousal at your entrance before inserting it into you and curling it. You gasped as he stretched you from the inside and bit your lip, fluttering your eyelids closed in absolute bliss.

He added another finger and you let out a soft cry, wrapping your thighs around his neck and begging him for more as his tongue increased its pressure and speed. The taste of you was like a drug on his tongue. He felt heady with pleasure as he drew more soft sounds from you. You clenched around him when he added a third finger and he eagerly lapped up the evidence of your continued arousal that seeped out around them as he fucked them into you.

You felt your desire coiling in your core as he curled his fingers against that sweet, secret spot over and over and when he wrapped his lips around you again and sucked, hard, you were finished. You let out a thin wail as your muscles seized with pleasure before trembling in your release. He felt your release seep over his fingers and coat his chin as you came down, slowly relaxing the muscles leading to your core. He slowly drew himself up to gaze down at you as he removed his own clothes, watching you twitch as he drew his shirt over his head as your release continued to pulse out of your cunt. He tossed his shirt to the side and dragged his jeans and briefs down his legs before kneeling between your thighs on the bed.

He tucked one hand under your neck and the other under your hips and drew you up until you were cradled in his lap. You felt the length of his cock sliding through the slick that was coating your pussy and you screwed your eyes shut with a moan, pressing your forehead to Bucky’s.

“Hey, open your eyes.” He whispered before nipping at your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth with his thumb on your chin. “I wanna look at you.”

You dragged your heavy lids open and stared into his eyes. His pupils were lust-blown and just left a thin ring of ice around endless pools of black. You felt him guiding himself to your entrance and he slipped himself in slowly, sliding you down on his length until he was fully sheathed in you. You let out a gasp when you were full of him, loving the feel of being stretched around his full length.

He started moving his hips slowly, grinding them against you as he brushed his lips against yours, never breaking eye contact. You matched his delicious, slow rhythm and sucked his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping it softly.

“I love you, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He pressed his mouth to yours hungrily, his tongue tangling with yours for just a moment before he broke away. “I love you too. You ok with me moving?”

You nodded your head and sucked in a breath as he moved a hand to your hip and fucked up into you suddenly. He picked up the pace quickly, rutting up into you and making you gasp. He fought to maintain eye contact as he felt your breasts bouncing against his chest each time his hips moved, but he wanted to watch you as you came apart around him.

One of his thrusts had his tip kissing your cervix and you let out a hiss at the sensation. He felt you clench around him as you neared another orgasm and moved his hand from your hip to strum at your clit. Your breath started hitching as he brought you closer and closer, the muscles in your abdomen twitching as you neared the brink. One hard drive of his thumb was all it took to send you over the edge and you collapsed against his chest, screaming his name as your torso rolled with the waves of pleasure that were wracking you.

Once he felt you relax he drew your head up for one more kiss before laying you back against the bed as he moved his hands to your hips and pulled you into him over an over. He gave Steve a nod and turned his attention back to you, mesmerized as he watched your perfect tits bounce with each thrust of his hips.

You gazed at Steve through heavy lids as he stood from his seat. He was already undressed and had been watching intently as Bucky fucked you, stroking his length as he watched him take you apart. Now he stalked over to you like a cat. He knelt down and pressed a hungry kiss to your lips as your head hung over the edge of the bed.

“You ready for me baby?” He asked, cupping your cheek in one massive palm as he stared into your eyes.

You nodded eagerly and bit your lip, not trusting your voice at the moment after all your screaming.

He gave you a quick peck before standing back up and bringing the tip of his cock to your lips, swirling the precum that had collected there around before he pressed it into your mouth.

You drew his into your mouth eagerly, swirling your tongue around his tip and moaning at the taste of him before he pressed himself into you a little further. Bucky hit you at a new angle suddenly and you let out a thin whine around Steve’s cock, making him hiss.

“Shit, I don’t think I can go as slow as I thought, sweetheart, get ready.”

You took a deep breath through your nose as he shoved himself all the way into your mouth. You hollowed out your cheeks as he started fucking your throat in earnest and tears started to leak from your eyes. You did your best not to inhale the drool that was running from your mouth as he rutted into you faster. Bucky had picked up his pace too and you felt yourself winding up for another massive orgasm. You were worried the combination of rhythms and lack of oxygen was going to make you pass out.

As you drew closer, you felt your two soldiers starting to twitch.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close. Buck?”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Do you need us to pull out, honey?”

You absolutely did not. You wrapped your legs around Bucky and your arms around Steve as another orgasm took you and you almost choked on the pleasure, your body writhing between the two men as they picked up their paces. They were seconds behind you. Bucky came first with a feral growl and you felt his spend spurting inside you, warming you from the inside as your cunt drew it all from him. Steve was last and caught himself on his left arm as his release ran down your throat, his cock twitching as you swallowed around his length.

Bucky collapsed beside you to your left, flinging an arm across your abdomen and pressing his face into your neck. Steve sat down heavily beside your face before twisting himself to lay on your right side, wrapping one of his massive legs in yours and placing a soft kiss on you lips before laying beside you.

You gave Steve a smile before turning over your shoulder to Bucky and nuzzling your nose against his, running a hand through his hair.

He pressed himself into your back and brought his metal hand up to cup your cheek as he kissed you deeply. His other arm wound itself underneath you and pressed you closer to him, splaying over your abdomen.

Steve started brushing his lips across your chest as he brought a hand to cup one of your breasts. You felt arousal starting to pool between you legs again at the gentle attention they were giving you. You brought your hands down to palm their cocks and felt them begin to harden in your hands.

“God sweetheart, you’re insatiable.” Steve chuckled against your neck. “Good thing we have Buck here now or you’d wear me out.”

You felt Bucky laughing against your hair as he started grinding his cock into your ass. You felt his hand move between your ass cheeks and gasped as his fingers brushed against your puckered hole before running through your arousal. “Where do you want us, love?” He whispered as he pressed one soaked finger at the tight ring of muscle before inserting it quickly, making you gasp. “I think she’s good with where we are Rogers.” He grinned at his friend over your shoulder as he stretched you slowly, waiting for you to relax before he inserted another finger.

“You sure, baby?” Steve asked after pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, yes.” You hissed at him as Bucky inserted another finger and you felt a fresh rush of arousal seep down your legs.

“Alright, beautiful.” He said around a grin as the three of you moved into a seated position.

Bucky was planting soft kisses over your shoulders as he dragged his erection through your folds, coating himself in your release before he pressed the head of his cock against your anus, and suddenly you were drawing him into you until he was bottomed out.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He hissed in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips as you moaned at the sensation of being filled with him and leaned your head back against his shoulder.

Steve brushed his tip against your clit before sheathing himself in your sex and your brain short-circuited for a second, your eyes rolling up into your head.

“Fuck, Y/N. Stay with me.” Steve hissed at you, concern coming over his face.

“I’m good, baby. Just needed a second.” You grinned at him once you came back to yourself.

“Alright, honey, we’re going to move.” Bucky warned you as his hips drew back before thrusting forward.

“Oh, God.” You could tell this was going to be short work. The contrasting rhythms they were setting was driving you to your breaking point faster than you thought possible and their mouths tracing your chest and shoulders was only adding to the sensation. You felt yourself already clenching around them and came suddenly, digging your fingers into Steve’s biceps as every muscle in your body seized and you vibrated with your release between the two of them.

They started picking up the pace then, humming as their lips brushed against your skin and you went into sensory overload. Your skin felt like it was on fire and every nerve was singing. Wherever their fingers touched you felt like you had been shocked with electricity. It was getting to be too much and you started to mewl unintelligibly as they moved inside of you.

Bucky nodded at Steve as you felt them starting to twitch inside you. “Almost done pretty girl, where do you want it?”

“Mmmm, inside me.” You whispered, completely fucked out as another orgasm wracked you.

Bucky pressed a kiss behind your ear and Steve pressed one to your lips as their hips suddenly stilled and they came inside you at the same time. You sighed as you felt their release leaking out of you and down your thighs and you let yourself collapse backward against Bucky’s chest. He carried you backwards until you were laying on top of him while Steve headed to the bathroom.

Bucky murmured soft praises against your hair as he rolled you over until he was spooning you, his metal arm wrapped around you as his other hand ran up and down the outside of your thigh. You sighed against the pillow when Steve returned with a damp cloth and ran it over the inside of your thighs to clean you off before he crawled into the bed with the two of you, pressing the front of his body to yours and pulling the sheets up over the three of you as you nuzzled yourself into his chest.

“Love you sweetheart.” He whispered, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to doze off.

“Mmm, love you Steve. Love you Bucky. Merry Christmas, boys.” You murmured before falling asleep between your two super soldiers, absolutely content wrapped in their warmth.

“Merry Christmas Barnes.”

“You too Rogers”

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18

#stucky #nomad steve #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky angst #steve rogers x bucky barnes x you #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

nowoyas · 4 years ago

Text

This is Home (NSFW)

A/N: Title references the song This is Home by Cavetown, which you can’t tell me isn’t an entire trans mood. Give it a listen, y’all. It’s one of my faves <3

This fic is part of @birds-have-teeth‘s Izumonth collab to celebrate Izuku’s birth month. For the lineup, head over here!

(izuku with binder edit and overall banner both made by me)

Summary: When your boyfriend starts distancing himself not long into your relationship, you decide to confront him and remind him just how loved he is. (trans!Izuku x reader)

Notes: Izuku is a pre-op, pre-T trans man for this fic. Reader is implied to be a cis girl. I am trans. In this fic, I am writing Izuku experiencing something I have and do struggle with and I swear to god if anyone clowns in my inbox because I wrote this I will literally fling them out the window, killing them instantly. Not on this one, assholes.

Warnings: smut, oral (reader giving), gender dysphoria, smut smut smut, I cried but you might not

Word count: 5555 (sexy)

Izuku has been avoiding you.

It's not obvious, not at first. Your honestly wonderful boyfriend is more than happy to text you good morning and good night as always, even on the nights where he goes to sleep at 4AM, and it's not as though the amount of cute emoji following the texts has changed. He still eats breakfast with you after his (very early) morning run, still eats lunch with you and your combined friend group, still eats dinner with you whenever he doesn't forget to eat. (You're working on getting him to remember to eat at all the right times.)

But one-on-one study sessions get cancelled. He now trains seemingly whenever you can't, even though you used to train together all the time. It's all the small things, like how he used to kiss you suddenly all the time whenever it was just the two of you, but now, you're hardly ever alone together often enough even if he still did. And maybe you're imagining it, but the usual sleep and wake texts are less enthusiastic than before.

You want to believe that maybe the two of you are just progressing from the honeymoon stage of your relationship, but this doesn't feel like progress.

This feels like distance.

This feels like he’s afraid to be alone with you.

You don't want to pry, but something's up with him, and you've got an inkling of exactly what. One thing's for certain, though—you're not letting him go another day thinking he can't talk to you about it. Knowing him, no matter what the issue is, he's convinced himself it would bother you for him to ask for reassurance or something to that effect.

And so, perhaps a bit shamelessly, you corner him.

Well, not physically. You're not that mean.

But when you knock on his door when you know he's there alone and he answers, you don't give him a chance to brush you off. You shove your way right into his room and take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Talk," you demand, crossing your arms as he flusters and shuts the door behind him.

"[n-name], is something wrong—"

"Talk," you repeat, leveling a glare at him. "You've been acting weird around me lately. If it's something you're not comfortable talking about, that's okay, but if I've done something to make you avoid me, I want to talk about it and figure out how to fix it."

Izuku flinches, taking an awkward seat on his bed. (The other end of his bed. You try not to let show just how much that stings.)

"Y-you haven't done anything wrong," he forces out evenly, not looking at you. "I swear."

You shift closer to him, placing a hand over his own. "Izuku, look at me."

Green eyes meet yours. There's guilt there, and an underlying fear with a source you can only guess at.

"I love you, babe. I want to help you. You don't have to let me, but I really—fuck—" You sniff, pulling back to wipe at your eyes before you let any tears fall. "—shit, sorry. I just... I'm worried about you, and I don't want to lose you, y'know?"

He panics, crossing the distance between you within moments to pull you into a tight hug. His hand winds into your hair, the other settling in the small of your back and rubbing soothingly as he shushes you. "No, oh my god, angel, I-I never meant to make you think you did anything wrong. Really, it's not you, it's me!"

Your blood turns to ice in an instant at his words. "T-that's the kind of shit people say when they're explaining why they're breaking up with you, Izuku."

"N-no! That's not—That's not what this is. I love you too, I love you so much, I just... I'm scared, okay?" he admits, face pressed into your neck.

"Scared?"

He nods, hugging you just a smidge tighter. "Yeah. Scared."

"Of what, handsome?" You finally relax into his hold, snuggling into his shoulder with a sigh as you try to rein in the tears.

"It's probably stupid, and it doesn't really matter that much."

"Izuku babe."

"Yes?"

"Did it make you feel something?"

He hesitates before nodding slowly.

"Then it's not stupid, and it matters to me."

Izuku shudders in your arms, mumbling something you don't quite catch.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

He shifts, repeating himself just loud enough to be heard. "I wanna go further with you but I hate my body and don't want to take my clothes off to do it," he says, speaking so quickly you almost miss it a second time.

You freeze, a light blush on your cheeks. It's true that you've not gone that far with Izuku—he always seemed content just to kiss and cuddle and exchange sweet words behind closed doors, and god, you were happy just to have him in any capacity. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—there's bigger problems at hand than "your cute boyfriend wants to fuck you".

"Oh, Izu," you breathe. "You know you don't have to push yourself, baby. It's okay if you're uncomfortable with—"

"B-but I shouldn't be!" he insists, wriggling away to look into your eyes with a pained look. "I don't wanna be uncomfortable. Not with you. I just... don't know how to... how to not be, and I didn't want things to escalate if I got alone with you because then I'd probably panic and push you away and then you'd probably feel hurt a-and it'd be my fault so I was avoiding you so I couldn’t hurt you before I was ready and then–"

"Izuku," you say firmly. "Don't push yourself for my sake. I'd feel awful knowing you did something like that for me. It's okay if we just kiss. It's okay if we never kiss. What's not okay is you forcing yourself into a dysphoric breakdown because you wanted to please me. If we fuck, I want it to be something we both enjoy, and I can't enjoy it if it's upsetting you or making you uncomfortable."

He tears up, yanking you back into a hug. "I'm s-sorry, [name]."

You laugh, tangling your hands in his curls and gently working knots out with your fingers. "You don't need to apologize, baby. I love you. And you know..."

"Mm?"

You smirk, looping a curl around one finger. Perhaps deliberately, your voice drops into a seductive, teasing voice. "If your biggest problem is either of us seeing your body, there's a few solutions. No one said you had to take your clothes off when we fuck, handsome."

He squeaks, and you swear you can feel his face heating up in your shoulder when he whines. He doesn't protest, so you continue, a grin spreading across your face.

"If you don't want me seeing you, you can always blindfold me," you offer, "or we could turn the lights off, or if you don't want to have to see yourself, I could blindfold you..."

"[N-name]!" Izuku yelps, burying his face into your chest to hide. "Stoooop, oh my god–"

Laughter bubbles from your throat. "Sorry, sorry. But those were honest suggestions. If you really wanna mess around with me a bit, I'm happy to let you set the pace. We kiss as much as you want, however heavy you want... Hell, I might even be into it if you order me around a little. Who knows?"

"O-order you?" You don't have to see him to know how red his face is—you can almost feel it through your top, the rush of embarrassment displayed on his freckled cheeks.

"Mhmm. I won't do anything you aren’t explicitly okay with. And the moment you want to stop, you tell me as much, and we can stop. But you know, I'm in love with you no matter what, and that includes your wonderfully strong body and your cute, handsome face. You light up any room you enter and make me want to work hard for my future. It’s not about your body. The fact that you're hot is a bonus, not the selling point."

He sniffles gently. You carefully go back to working through his hair. "But again, no matter how you want this to go, I'm okay with it. Your comfort first, baby."

He pulls out of the hug, worrying his lip between his teeth as he watches you. "If you're really okay with it, then... i-is it okay if I just kiss you, and we feel it out from there?"

You smile softly. "Go ahead, handsome."

Despite all the kisses you've shared before, every new kiss between you is charged with affection. Izuku can't help it if he melts into every kiss you share—your lips are so soft and you smell so nice and he loves you so much! Before he knows it, he's smoothing a palm against the back of your neck and deepening the kiss, moving his lips hesitantly against your own. He parts just enough to murmur against your lips: "I love you" and "tell me if you want me to stop" and "you can touch my arms if you want". (He knows you do. You only confirm it when your fingertips immediately drag along his upper arms, appreciating the muscles there.)

Before he knows it, he's swiping his tongue against your bottom lip tentatively and pulling you into his lap. You've been more than charitable—your hands remain carefully on his arms, your tongue in your own mouth even as he explores yours. You really won't go a step further than he asks for, and his heart swells at the confirmation. When he breaks the kiss, both of you are breathing heavy, a fact which draws extra attention to the fact that he's still wearing his chest binder.

"I-I want to kiss your neck. I-it's okay if you touch me, j-just please not my chest o-or my... Um, you know."

You mock-salute, a comically serious look on your face that clashes with your flushed cheeks. "Yes, sir! No chest, no ass, no between-thighs!"

The smile that pulls at his lips is utterly love-drunk as he leans back in, first pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips and trailing tiny pecks along your jawline. When he reaches your neck, he hesitates, and you wait to slide your arms over his shoulders. "Hun?" you say gently. "Still good?"

Green eyes flick up to yours, intense but wavering. "Y-yeah. I can do this."

Without any other warning, he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss directly onto your pulse, drawing a gasp from you when his teeth graze you just enough for you to feel it. Your hands slide down his back to find purchase as he continues, switching between peppering light kisses to your neck and honestly, doing pretty much anything that won't leave a mark.

Meantime, it's all you can do to gasp and whimper as he finds all your soft spots and goes on the full attack, and his hands roam your sides, climbing up until you're sure he's going to grope you–

And then he flinches and pulls back, just slightly. There's a quiet hiss through his teeth at the movement.

You'd love to whine at the loss, and normally, you probably would. But this is Izuku, and if you're going to let him set the pace, you're damn well going to let him set the pace.

You remove your hands from him completely, watching him with concerned eyes. "Everything alright?"

His heart twists at how gentle and concerned you are. One moment, you're huffing and looking at him with nothing but lust as he kisses your neck, the next, your brow's furrowed as you search him for any signs of fear or panic.

He really doesn't deserve you.

"Do you want to stop?" you ask, voice soft in the way he's seen you use to talk to frightened animals.

He shakes his head, flattening a palm against his chest. "Sorry, sorry. M-my chest is just hurting a little."

"How long have you been binding today?" you ask without missing a beat.

A hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. "I, uh, I took it off during Hero Basic earlier..."

"And had it on all day before?" you ask, hands on your hips. "And all day since then?"

He nods sheepishly, refusing to meet your eyes.

"Izuku..." You sigh. "I said I wanted you to be comfortable, but I also want you to be safe. Please take your binder off? I can look away while you do, I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I..." Izuku sighs, twiddling his thumbs nervously. "A-actually, could you, um..."

"I can leave the room if it'd make you feel better," you offer.

"N-no! That's not what I meant." He wraps his arms around your waist, refusing to let you leave. "I-I, um, wanted to try..." His face is beet red, and in a panic, he buries his face in your chest to hide his embarrassment. "C-can you help me out of it?" he finally squeaks out.

"Oh, Izu. Of course I can help you." You gently maneuver his face away from your chest, carefully reaching up to work at his tie. "Let me know the second you want me to stop, okay?"

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. "Okay."

"Would it help if I kissed you while I get your top off?"

After a long moment, he nods, hiding his blushing face in his hands. His hands stay there until you gently pull them away with a soft giggle. "I can't kiss you if you're hiding your perfect face, handsome."

He gives you a wobbly smile, and you pull him towards you with a gentle tug at his tie. You're careful not to push too far as you kiss him—soft, open-mouthed kisses that have him whining as you try furiously to get this damn knot untied. How'd he even manage to get it like this?

Nevertheless, eventually you do manage to get the knot undone and start working carefully on the buttons of his school shirt. Once you're halfway down, you pull back to murmur a soft "are we still okay?" against his lips.

He responds by crashing his lips back onto yours, a hand roaming up your side until this time, he does actually begin to palm one of your breasts over your shirt. Soon, the other hand joins him in just feeling you, and you can't help but sigh against Izuku's lips.

When you reach the lower buttons, you're careful to not let your hands get too far down as you carefully un-tuck his shirt from his pants. You have to force him to stop massaging your breasts long enough to slide his shirt off his shoulders, stopping to roll your eyes in amusement when you find him wearing an undershirt above the binder. You carefully slide the tank top off, leaving him in just his pants and the colorful All Might-themed chest binder you'd sewn for him shortly after he came out to you. Fingers reach for the zipper tab on the front, but don't close around it just yet. Not when Izuku's breathing quickens the way it does, not when his eyes widen in panic.

"Do you want me to step out while you get out of this and put something else on?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head in silence. "Please just... Wait a minute." You nod, hand slowly retreating as Izuku calms himself.

"C-can we, um, l-level the playing field a little?" he asks when his breathing is a bit steadier.

You blink in surprise. "In what way, 'Zuku?"

He drapes both arms over his face as he answers in a truthfully adorable squeak. "L-like, um, s-so I'm not the only one t-topless..."

Your smile is fond as you pat his cheek and lean in. "Can I give you a show?" you whisper.

He shivers, nodding almost too excitedly, and you pull away with a little giggle. "Stay right here." You scamper to the door, making doubly sure it's locked, and turn back with a sparkle in your eye. With his full attention on you, you cross back to him and tease at the edge of your shirt. You're slow in your movements, teasing, and his eyes are glued to you, jaw slack as you give him a mini strip-tease.

Man, it's hard to have low self-esteem with a boyfriend like yours. He drinks in the sight of you like it's the first sight of water he's had in months, adoration and awe and lust and all things positive written plain as day in his expression. When your shirt's properly discarded, you give Izuku a little wink and press a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips. "How are we feeling?"

"Good! G-great! T-this is—yeah. Yeah." His face is flushed, pupils blown. His eyes keep darting between meeting yours and somewhere lower

You quirk a smirk at him, trying not to laugh. "So am I good to unzip you, baby?"

His hands come up to cover his face, green peeking out from between his fingers as he nods. "I-I-I think I'm good."

"You sure? I don't want you to push yourself if you're not comf—"

His hand snatches your wrist, forcing the palm of your hand flat against the center of his chest. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips. "I-if it's you, I can do this. Please."

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" you hum, carefully pinching the zipper tab and pulling it down slowly. His hand doesn't leave your wrist, but he lets you, exhaling softly when you unzip his binder all the way and free his chest from its confines after a long day.

Izuku panics. Not in the way he feared—he doesn't shove you away, doesn't run, doesn't freeze. But he panics all the same, dragging you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss before you can look at him, before he can see your disgust, before you can make fun of him or change your mind or or or or—

Gentle hands slide the binder off his shoulders with an appreciative hum. You're gentle as you straddle his waist, hands tangling in his hair, and when you go to pull back, he chases your lips. You giggle, trying to pull away to speak, but Izuku's too scared to let you—he almost whines as he continues pressing his lips against yours.

"Everything good, sweetheart?" you ask as best you can amidst his onslaught.

"No—" slips out from his lips. "—I need you to keep kissing me."

"Hm, I can do that. But tell me if something's wrong, okay?" You punctuate your question with a kiss to his nose. He responds by meeting your lips once more.

He pauses, tugging you into a hug moments after breaking the kiss. "I'm a little scared right now," he admits. "You wouldn't... Hate me for how I look, right?" Tears brim in his eyes and wet his voice as he whispers.

"Never in a million years, Izuku. You're always going to be my handsome, strong boyfriend, until you decide you don't want me around anymore. I love you for who you are, not who you want to be, and I'll tell you as many times as it takes."

His arms shake around you. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper, slowly pulling back as he releases you. "Is it okay if I kiss you, baby?"

"We were already kissing," he says, trying not to laugh.

You press a slow, sensual kiss to his neck. "I know," you breathe out in open, hot breaths, delighting in the way he shivers. "I meant... escalating."

"O-oh." His face is red, as if it could ever stop being red, and you break into a grin when he nods sheepishly. "I-if you want..."

"I very much want." You nod quickly, dragging your nails along his upper arms and around to his shoulders. Goosebumps follow in your wake. "If you'll let me, I'd like to show you all the parts I love about you. But first?"

"M-mm?"

"Say 'yellow' if you need me to pause or 'red' if you want us to stop entirely, alright? The moment you want me to stop. If you aren't sure, 'yellow'. Please? I don't want to cross any boundaries with you."

"Safewords. Okay, I-I think I can do that. Yellow to pause or slow down, red to stop." He nods slowly, a determined pout on his face. You grin and shoot him an adoring gaze before returning to his neck, one hand finding his to intertwine your fingers. His hand trembles in your grasp, but when you squeeze his hand to reassure him, he's quick to squeeze back. "Green to keep going?"

You nod.

"Okay. I'm okay."

You're slow and careful as you begin to kiss down his body, trailing along his jaw and each shoulder. The pads of your fingers massage along the lines where the seams of his binder had been digging into his skin, eliciting shivers beneath your fingertips. Intermittently, he squeezes the hand you've kept intertwined with his, letting out shaky gasps when you drag your tongue back up to his neck.

"You're doing so well," you purr. It's hard to keep your free hand in one place–you drag it back up to indulge in the fluffy curls atop his head only a moment before lightly dragging your nails down his spine.

Next, you trail your lips back down to his chest, pausing to toy briefly with his chest as he lets out a cascade of moans. "[N-name]..."

"Mm?" Your eyes meet his innocently as you lathe your tongue over his nipple, your heart skipping at the lusty, adoring look on his face. You release him from your mouth with a small pop!, tilting your head. "Still good?"

"No, come back," he whines, tugging at your hand.

A giggle escapes you. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

He shudders as you dive back in, switching to take his other nipple into your mouth. With your closest hand still occupied in holding his, you aren't able to play with the side you'd previously been kissing at, but Izuku doesn't seem to mind as he practically pushes his chest into your face with another gasp.

Soon, all too soon, you continue in your journey to kiss every inch of Izuku's body, palming at his chest and placing one soft kiss against a freckle situated just above his heart. You giggle when you feel his pulse jump beneath your lips before moving on, pressing kisses in a line down the center of his chest until you've found soft skin.

Your free hand finds his belt, toying with the buckle as you get off his lap and rest on the floor in front of him. "Color?"

He eyes you warily, running his thumb across your hand in a way that feels more like he's soothing himself than you. He doesn't answer.

"Izuku, I need to know if this is okay. If you don't answer, I'll stop."

"Y-yellow," he admits meekly. "I-I think it's easier if I don't think about it, but I just... I want this to happen but every second I'm reminded of all the ways this could end in you leaving me, a-and..."

You immediately move your hand away at his admission. "Thank you for telling me. You’re overthinking it, hun. I’m not gonna leave you. Can I help you at all?"

"Distract me?" He pouts at you, leaning down for a kiss. He's even so bold as to slip his tongue into your mouth as you fumble with his belt buckle one-handed, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your bare back until you finally manage to get his belt unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned. Once he's unzipped, you smooth your hand over the small of his back, sitting up on your knees to press into the kiss.

Getting him out of his pants with one hand is a challenge, but you make it work, leaving him to toe off his socks and sit there in a loose pair of boxers, looking nervous and innocent and adorable but mostly just scared.

Now that you've got him mostly undressed, you can finally move back to your mission of making him feel utterly loved and working away that fear of his, littering his stomach and sides with tiny pecks and nibbles that have him giggling as he tries (and fails) to squirm away from your onslaught.

"Great job so far," you mumble, nuzzling your nose into his side playfully. "You're really brave, 'Zuku."

He gasps for air between his laughter, scarcely gaining enough time to breathe before you finally relent enough to let him catch his breath. "I love you," he pants out when he finally gets a chance to look down at you. "Thank you."

"I love you more~" you practically sing, punctuating your sentence by blowing a puff of air at his stomach. He squirms, trying not to laugh any more than he already has. You reach up, gently caressing his cheek, and he presses into your touch. "Color?"

Izuku gnaws at his lip. His face is flushed, cheeks flaming red as he pants. After a long moment that you can only imagine is filled with thoughts too fast for anyone else to understand if only they could hear, he speaks. "Green."

A single soft kiss as your hand slips beneath his boxers, giving his ass a teasing squeeze before sliding them off his legs. His tongue slips in your mouth and roams freely as your hand caresses his inner thigh, until all that's left for you to do other than tease him relentlessly is go for broke. You break free from the kiss, watching his face with a smile as you drag a single finger up his slit, finding his clit with ease once you dip between the folds.

No anxiety rears its head now. His jaw goes slack, eyes squeezed tight with pleasure as you slowly rub his slit, a red flush crawling from his cheeks and down his neck as he tries not to moan too loudly. "[n-name]~"

"Hm?" you purr, pausing your finger as it circles his dripping heat teasingly. "Do you need to stop, green bean?"

"N-no!" His eyes snap open, shooting you a pleading, desperate look. "P-please, green, I need more—"

You drop to sit on your knees in front of him, gently spreading his legs to sit between them. "If you're sure, baby. Thank you for asking nicely."

The only sound that escapes him when you finally, finally lean forward and dart your tongue between his folds is a drawn-out moan. Instantly, his free hand finds your head, tangling through your hair and pulling you close. You welcome the momentum, slipping your tongue inside him and using your thumb to rub small circles against his clit. He moans and writhes against your mouth, hips bucking so uncontrollably you're half-tempted to wrap your free arm around his waist and hold him down as you work him up. (If he didn't still have his fingers entwined with yours, you probably would.)

When it gets too much and you're running out of air, you pull back, panting and gazing down at him in appreciation as he whines. "[naaaaame], I was so—"

"Shh," you coo, replacing your tongue with two deft fingers. "I just need a sec to breathe. You're doing so well, Izuku."

His walls pulse around your fingers at your words, green eyes shining with tears that almost make you stop completely if not for the fact that he's still trying to fuck himself on your fingers. You curl them experimentally, brushing against a spongy spot inside him that has him keening and thrashing against you. You re-position clumsily, dragging him into a kiss to muffle his noises as you continue to assault his g-spot. It’d be bad if someone heard the two of you, after all.

It's not long after that that you manage to push him over the edge, his pleasured moans spilling into your mouth as his walls flutter around you. A scarred hand squeezes around yours tightly as he manages to babble your name. You pump your fingers into his dripping cunt just a little bit longer, giving him something to ride out his orgasm on until his moaning turns into whimpers and his hips still. You smile softly when, upon trying to pull away to sit in a less awkward position, he pulls you back to kiss you again

You slowly remove your fingers from him, taking the small window he gives you to sit beside him on the bed and kiss the scar on his hand. His shoulders shudder as you pull him into your lap and a tight hug. "You did so well, Izuku," you coo into his ear.

He sniffles and would have launched himself at you if not for the fact that he was already as close as he could get—his arms lock you into place, snuggling into you tightly as he sobs.

"Is everything okay, Izu? What’s got you upset, green bean?" You carefully wipe your fingers on the sheets before beginning to card your fingers through his hair.

"I-I don't—I don't know! I'm sorry, I—"

"Shh, it's okay. You're okay, Izu. You did so well." You begin to pepper his temples in light kisses.

"I-I always thought that—that I'd never get any of this. That if I ever—ever found someone like you and loved them and they actually loved me, that they'd never... 'cus I'm... f-for a lot of reasons, they wouldn't ever want to do anything like this with me," he babbles, finding every word more difficult to force out than the last. "They'd... they'd get to this point and then they'd realize that this isn't... that I'm not what they want. What they ever wanted. But... this is real. It is, isn't it?"

"It's real, Izuku."

He breaks at that. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I love you."

You patiently run your fingers through his hair, working through any knots you find and trying not to let yourself cry with him. "It's okay, baby. I love you too."

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Hot tears begin to drop onto your shoulder as he tries to bring himself even closer. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, honey," you insist. "Really."

"I-I never thought I'd be..." He trails off, lets out another sob.

Your heart wrenches, and you smooth your hand over his back. "Loved?"

His silence speaks volumes.

"Oh gosh, Izu." You want to hold him close, to kiss him until he forgets every self-deprecating thought he's ever had. But you're already holding him, already as close as you can get, and genuinely, if you see his face right now, it won't be long before you're also bursting into tears. So you stay there, rubbing circles into his back as you search for the words—any words—to help him understand just how you feel. "You know I love you, right? I said it earlier, and I'll say it as many times as you need me to."

"I love you too," he mumbles, his tears finally beginning to subside. You wriggle your way from him, just enough to press soft kisses to his face.

"I mean it. More than anything, I love you. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for being honest with me, and thank you for confiding in me." With every "thank you" and "I love you", you pause to press another kiss to his face. The wrenching in your chest finally subsides when, after the fourth tiny kiss, he lets out a giggle. "Thank you for existing, baby. I'm so fucking glad I met you, and even if we'd never done this, even if we'd never gotten together, I'd still be glad I met you. You're loved, Izuku, and I'll remind you every day, every hour, if you need me to. As often as it takes for you to never question it again."

"Thank you. Sorry."

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his nose. "Stop apologizing. We here at [name], Inc. are of the official opinion that Mister Izuku Midoriya has never done anything wrong, ever, and will not be accepting constructive criticism at this time."

Finally, a proper laugh bubbles from his throat, and he finds it in himself to smile at you—complete, adoring, loving. He even lets himself believe it as the two of you lay down cuddled up to each other.

As long as he's by your side, he thinks he can continue to believe it.

He's complete. Adored. Loved.

#midoriya izuku x reader smut #izuku midoriya x reader smut #deku x reader smut #trans izuku midoriya #bnha x reader smut #not sfw #my fics

844 notes · View notes

dangerous-disposition · 5 years ago

Text

On Tragedy vs. Bad Endings

[Image ID: user @frostyfrogz replied to your post “my mag171 #thots: I fully agree with. I love jonmartin I want nothing but the best for them. I know my answer today was an obvious twisting of dialogue but its just frustrating sometimes because it seems like people dont understand some sort of tragedy will indeed happen. I have never and will never suggest that something will happen to Jon and Martin’s relationship I’ve just been saying the shows not going to end well no matter what.]

So I have a lot of thoughts about this very subject, and too much for the replies on my post, so allow me to try to articulate what I mean, and what a lot of us mean when we say “it does not make sense for either Jon or Martin to turn evil in the end,” even in a show that has been advertised from day one as a tragedy.

First of all, no one thinks this is going to end happy. The few who do are usually unaware that this show is billed as a tragedy, and are quick to be corrected. I didn’t know it was a tragedy until I was on season 3 and someone told me. It’s overall just best to assume that the OP knows it’s not going to be a happy ending, because “reminding” people or “explaining” to people that the ending is going to be sad is a fast way from people to get annoyed and defensive.

Anyway! It appears, above all, that people have either fundamentally different ideas of what a tragedy is or accomplishes, or that people have a fundamentally flawed understanding of tragedy and it’s place as a narrative device/theme.

My thoughts are that tragedies hurt, and tragedies can be devastating, but they have to have a message and they should not be cruel to the audience.

A cruel ending would involve leading the audience to believe one thing for the entire book, show, movie, podcast, what have you, just to rip it away at the last minute like a big “fuck you” to the audience. Those sorts of endings are inherently mocking of the audience, and ultimately disrespectful. The only people in the audience that “benefit” from this sort of writing are the cynics who spent the entire show talking down to everyone for seeing the silver lining in the impending tragedy, even if, up until the finale, the silver lining was always part of the narrative. Like it took actual twisting and outright ignoring of the narrative as it’s written to be cynical and sceptical all the way until the end.

That is, plain and simple, bad writing. Jonny Sims is not a bad writer.

Now tragedies often have “happy endings,” they just also have an element of sadness colouring that ending. A good, tragic ending should, in my opinion, feel bittersweet. We should see it coming, we should know it will hurt, but it should be for the greater good and should further the narrative that has been told from the beginning.

I said a few weeks ago that a tragic ending without a silver lining is just torture porn, and I stand by it.

Now, if Jon or Martin are revealed to be Actually Evil in the end, where is the silver lining in that? What narrative has even possibly hinted at this outcome, without putting on cynic glasses?

Every single plot point and plot “twist” in TMA has been clearly detailed, never relegated to pure subtext that you would have to comb through a single interraction and analyzing the tone in which it was said (which could easily be actor shortcomings or error). They have always been obvious, at least in hindsight. This is why, for a while, I subscribed to the Web!Martin theory, but due to recent episodes I’m more inclined to believe those “obvious things” were red herrings.

Throughout The Magnus Archives, the common theme in every. Single. Season finale is that “we are stronger together.” What do I mean by that? Well, here’s the general idea:

Season 1: The one time someone gets separated by the group for any significant length of time, like I mean the main group, she gets killed by the NotThem and replaced.

Season 2: Jon is alone, due to his intense paranoia and his reluctance to reach out for help. This leads to a disastrous series of events that leaves him a suspect of murder, and his friends even more doubtful of his character.

Season 3: In the episode just before they deal with the Unknowing, Jon literally says that isolation was his downfall, and he was going to work on trusting his friends more. When they got separated during the Unknowing, things went to shit. When they found each other again, they were able to rally and they “succeeded.” Conversely, they are also teamed up with Melanie and Martin who hung back to bring down Elias. They were successful, working as teams on separate objectives, etc.

Season 4: This is, by far, their most “successful” feats while simultaneously their least. The whole season was again showing the downfalls of isolation. In the season finale, Jon has Basira and Daisy’s help, and while bolstering himself with their strength, and the strength in his conviction to save Martin to be with Martin, Jon was successful in stopping Peter Lukas and saving Martin. Conversely, Martin and Jon’s isolation in Scotland could be, theoretically, implicated in how Jonah Magnus was able to succeed in the end like that.

Now evidence of this same train of thought in season 5? Jon literally says it: Gertrude would not have done well in this post-apocalyptic world, because she had no friendships, no anchors, no reason to stay human. And then Jon says “you are my reason” to Martin.

It is in the text of the story that the only way to succeed, or win, or survive, is through trust, friendship, and love. One of the main factors in so many of the statements, on why the statement givers succumbed to the fear in their story, for even a moment, had to do with very little personal ties to anyone else. Many of the statements feature isolation and, as Jon put it, “lack of corroboration.” On the flipside, many of the statements that ended with the statement giver escaping successfully, and surviving long enough to be reached out to for follow-up questions, involved them having close personal ties to someone else that kept them safe, somehow. Like the girl from Italy; remembering her mom saved her from the Lonely. Or, more ridiculously, the guy and his dog that escaped the spiral because he was so distracted by his dog and had to be home for dinner. In MAG170, it was Martin’s love for Jon, and his trust in the love from Jon and his friends, that saved him from the Lonely again. Jon’s incredible amount of love, and respect, and trust in his friends is what’s kept him from becoming another Jared Hopworth or Jude Perry. In MAG155, Cost of Living, he expresses open disgust in how that particular avatar of The End justified her actions, killing and killing and killing again because she viewed herself as more worthy of life than that person. In that same episode, he talks of not blinding himself because he hopes to use his powers to protect his friends, that without them they’re too vulnerable. Honestly, this is the same reason Peter Lukas is unsuccessful, because Martin only helped him at all to protect his friends. The fact that he didn’t see his failure coming was hilarious.

Gerry said in Family Business that there is no “entities of love”, and that might be true, but love and trust is literally what saves you from fear. How many of us deal with things that are scary in our lives, if only because we have some level of trust in the people or things around us. How many of us have been brought out of a panic attack by someone we love and trust?

So all of this has been presented to us, over and over and over again, which is what I, and others, mean when we say “it does not make sense for one of them to be evil.” That’s what we mean when we say “it would be Bad Writing to make one of them evil in the end.” The entire show has driven home the message that we need love, we need personal connections to survive fear. To rip that away from the main characters at the last minute and call it “tragedy” would be a spit in the face of every single listener who took the story at face value, without picking it apart and reading lines out of context. And Jonny Sims and Alex J. Newall have both said they hate lazy writing.

Now, none of the JonMartin fans I follow are deluding themselves to think this show will have a happy ending outside of very self-indulgent fix-it au fanfics.

The way I see this going down is that Jon and Martin will figure out how to put the world back to the way it was, but Jon will not be able to be part of the new world with Martin. That’s the tragedy; that the world gets saved, and Jon helps save it, but he doesn’t get to benefit from his efforts in any way. The tragedy is Jon loves Martin so much, and they deserve their happy ending, but they don’t get it. But, they still saved the world so others can have their happy endings.

Idk about you, but between the “Jon turns evil in the end” and “Jon stays good and sacrifices himself to save the world” endings, only one of them has me in tears right now as I type this out, and it’s not the former.

I’m not against sad endings,I’m against bad endings that punish the audience for having even a bittersweet hope. I’m against sad endings that are just sad for the sake of being sad, with zero pay-off or reason to happen, especially when those endings throw out 5 years of hard work.

And hey, I might just be forced to eat my words in the end, but not before I fly all the way to England and make Jonny Sims eat a knuckle sandwich.

This was a lot longer than I meant for it to be, but I just have a lot of feelings.

#jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #THE POWER OF LOVE AND TRUST WILL SAVE THE WORLD #also idk the proper format of like image id's but i didn't want to NOT type out the reply #my mag thots #500 notes

521 notes · View notes

forlornmelody · 4 years ago

Text

Impulse Control--Why Startling Poison Ivy Is A Really Bad Idea

Rating: E (Smut with some plot, for flavor.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Kate Kane

Linkage: Ao3

Summary: To find Harley, Ivy must make an uneasy alliance with one of the more notorious (and notoriously attractive) members of the Batfamily. A simple, easy in-and-out. But nothing is so simple or easy, is it?

Note: Commission for @rookie009. Dude, thank you so much for commissioning me again. And indulging this weirdness.

->->->

Pam-a-lamb,

I’m doing bad stuff but don’t worry ‘bout it.

--Harley xoxo

“It’s completely unlike her, right?”

Jason leans against the doorway, one boot braced against it and the other flat on the floor. He holds Harley’s unfolded note in his gloved hands, narrowing his eyes at it as if the answer lies in the creases. “You know her better. What’s your gut telling you?”

“She--” Ivy sighs, rubbing circles between her eyebrows--a futile gesture against her impending headache. “--She doesn’t leave notes. Harley just goes . Maybe she texts me while she’s out somewhere because the color of someone’s jacket made her think of me.” Waving her hand at the note, Ivy meets Jason’s eyes. “This…”

“...is planned.” Jason rotates the note, flipping it forward and back. “You sure it’s her handwriting?"

Honestly, Ivy doesn’t know what to think. “It...doesn’t look any different.” She coughs. “It smells like her.” Like buttered popcorn and Chinese food. Remembering cuts right into her sternum.

Jason puts a gloved hand over hers. He’s the only Robin who ever dared to touch her. “You’ll get her back. I know you will.”

She watches him step back towards the door. “Not we?”

“Sorry, Red. I can’t help you.” Jason shifts on his feet. To be honest, Ivy kind of expected this. She can still see the scar running down the side of his face, where a crowbar had bashed his head in, and where a coroner had sewn it back shut. Funny how the Lazarus Pit didn’t remove it when it brought him back. “The Outlaws and I have work in Markovia.” Ivy’s teeth grind together at the blatant lie, but before she can speak, he continues, “But if it’s a gun you need, I’m not the only one in the Batfamily who can handle them.”

“Who--?”

“Don’t worry. She’ll find you.”

He shuts the door behind him so softly Ivy almost doesn’t hear it. The gears in her mind clicking into place drown it out.

You better be joking, Kid.

-----

Jason was not kidding. Ivy enters her greenhouse lab, and finds Batwoman herself leaning against a drosera glanduligera . “I’d give Frankie some space if I were you. He finds unannounced guests quite delicious and full of nutrients.”

Batwoman quickly puts distance between them. Frankie’s tentacles sag with betrayal. “Red Hood told me you needed a favor?” Her crimson-stained lips wrinkle with distaste.

“Harley’s missing. Jason Todd told me you’d help.” It’s an exaggeration of his promise, but Ivy isn’t leaving anything to chance.

It’s hard to tell with the cowl, but Ivy swears Batwoman’s eyes widen just a little before narrowing into slits. “That depends. Am I aiding you in a crime?”

Ivy turns around, pretending to ignore her as she prunes a mutated rosa gymnocarpa, one that will fire its thorns at will. She’s thinking of naming it Lucy. “Depends on what you consider a crime.” Before Batwoman can answer, Ivy continues. “Is hacking government systems a crime? Is kidnapping?”

Batwoman steps next to her, and nearly fingers the rose petals, but thinks better of it. “You think government agents took her somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. But I want to find her before someone worse does.”

Ivy’s desk seems like a safe enough place, and Batwoman perches there. “You’re not worried I’m going to turn you in?”

That gets a chuckle out of her. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”

The suggestion rolls off of her like rain on a window pane. “Oh, like Batman hasn’t turned you in several times before?”

Ivy licks her lips. “Only when I wanted him to.”

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Look. I owe J--Red Hood a favor. So I’ll look into it and--”

“No. I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

“I have to make sure you’re not giving me bad intel.” Before Batwoman can protest, Ivy continues. “You don’t want to disappoint Jason, do you?”

Is it Batwoman muffling her grumble, or is it her mask?

“This can’t be the Batcave.”

“It’s not. It’s a safehouse. One I will be relocating after this.”

Ivy snorts, eyeing a piece of ancient weaponry, a Roman shield by the looks of it. It seems neither of them trusts the other. She’s fine with that. Not once has Ivy ever appreciated having someone depend on her. Well. There’s always an exception, isn’t there? But that exception is off doing fuck-knows-what, and Ivy’s relying on a godamn hero to help find her. “Nice place,” she murmurs.

“Don’t touch anything.” Batwoman says quickly, sitting down at her desk, bracing her chin on her elbows in front of her keyboard. It’s so... candid of her that Ivy catches herself staring. Apparently even superheroes let their shoulders roll forward sometimes. Ivy wonders what Batwoman looks like when she finally removes her cowl for the night. The red hair most definitely is a wig--real hair would never hold curls like that. Her hair is short underneath--putting it up would take too much time when an old lady needs help crossing the street. But other than the fullness of her red lips--Ivy has no idea who the woman is underneath. It’s going to drive her crazy--just like it did with her male counterpart. “CIA says she’s been “acquired for a black ops mission out of Bell Reve. But anything beyond that we’ll have to access on si--Are you even listening?”

Ivy shakes it off, pretending to examine her nails. “And why can’t I touch anything if you’re moving?” She’s trying to remember why Bell Reve sounds so familiar.

“I would like to keep some of it. I like the way it looks. And I don’t want your pheromones on everything.”

Then it clicks. “ Beautiful View. Is that another prison?”

Batwoman presses her lips together, then nods. “Blacksite.”

Fire roils in Ivy’s veins. “Of fucking course it is.” No accountability. No oversight. Whoever kidnapped Harley can do fuck-all with her and get away with it. And Ivy (and Batwoman) have barely scratched the surface.

“Doctor Isley?” Batwoman says, her voice rising and tense.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? The vines in my spider plant look about ready to strangle me.”

Ivy glances over at the chlorophytum comosum, whose children are quickly inching towards Batwoman and her slender neck. “She says you’re smothering her and her babies with the constant watering. And she prefers the name Billie.” Waving her hand, Ivy watches as the spider plants retreat back towards their home, leaving their caretaker well alive, for now.

------

The “site” is a nondescript cubicle-laced hell in the basement of a social security office. Neither of them can go through the front door--well, Batwoman could if she’d take off her goddamn cowl, but that isn’t happening any time soon. So they pop open a basement window while the mailroom workers are on their lunch. They meander through the maze of modular walls and humming towers, dodging the occasional wayward paper crumble. “Our info should be in that corner office.”

It doesn’t look like much, just an otherwise empty desk with a computer that has dust gathering on its keyboard. The room lacks widows, and Ivy wrinkles her nose at the musty air. It could use a sathiphyullum or two to freshen up. Batwoman leans over the desk, firing up the computer and clacking at the keys. “Almost there….”

Ivy smells them before she hears them--donuts, coffee, and the musk of unwashed skin. Security. “Bats---”

Batwoman doesn’t even deign to look up. “Keep ‘em busy.”

“Poison Ivy?” The first guard fumbles to keep his walkie-talkie in his hands.

“Good afternoon,” she says neutrally. Batwoman gives her a steel look. “Work here often?”

His mouth hangs open, his thumb still glued to the talk button. He means to ask what she’s doing here, but all that comes out is: “Are you seeing anyone?”

Ivy snorts. “Maybe if you set that radio down, Casanova.”

As soon as he complies, the radio hisses with static. “Sending backup, over.”

“Ivy!” Bats hisses, glancing over at her.

She scoffs, listening for the tell-tale thunder of boots down the hall. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you weren’t hung up about property damage.”

“No one can know we’re here, Ivy.”

For the love of pete. Her heart already races out of control, and fuck if Ivy can slow it down now. Harley’s calming techniques be damned. “Well, you’re not going to like this either.”

“Like what?” Bats says flatly, in the middle of a download.

“You’ve only two other options, Batsy.”

“Enough with the nicknames, already.”

The backup pours into the room, and the room flashes white, and Ivy swears her eardrums explode with the noise. Her body reacts before her brain can, and the air’s filled with a dusty haze. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Sex or murder?” Ivy calls out over the coughing militarized guards. Who the fuck guards a building with a SWAT team? Harley, what have you got yourself into this time?

“What?” Batwoman yells back, coughing too.

“SEX OR MURDER???”

“...Sex, I guess?”

Ivy holds up her hands, seeing half a dozen sights aimed at her chest. “It’s gonna be sex with me. You okay with that?”

Batwoman doesn’t look up, but she does stop typing. “Is this hypothetical or…?”

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

“Are you going to kill me otherwise?”

Ivy pinches her nose. “ NO. For crying out loud. But we don’t have time to get arrested.”

“HANDS ON THE GROUND.” Ivy and Bats comply. What else are they going to do while they hash this out?

The vigilante rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“ Yes, Ivy. But only if it’s not around these idiots.”

“If you insist.” Ivy waves her hand as subtly as she can, letting the pheromones escape her skin like a fine mist.

“Uh, boss?” One of the sights drops to her hand. Shit.

Five more join the first. “Hey! None of that. ”Pigs never were known for their subtlety.

Ivy plasters on her most repentant expression. “Too late.” And she’s not lying. She can already see the green mist being pulled into the HVAC system. Which is another problem, but one she’s not going to worry about just yet.

“Plant Lady! Get that shit out of the air!”

One.

“No can do. Sorry.” Not sorry. Not one bit.

Two.

“I mean it, Lady. Or I’ll shoot!”

Three.

“ Lady, I swear I’ll--”

One piggy turns to the other. “Hey, Frankie?”

“Not now, Mitch.”

“There’s something I gotta tell you, Frankie.” Mitch takes his hand, fingering the clasps on the other man’s armor.

“Mitch? What hell-- mm. ”

Batwoman holds her flash drive in her hands, stunned by the site of an entire SWAT team playing tonsil hockey with one another. Ivy grabs her by the cape. “That’s our cue!” And she drags her to a cubicle by the stairs.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just left ?”

“‘Fraid not. Unless you packed an antidote to my new toxin with you.”

“Actually.” Batwoman fishes around in her utility belt. “Shit.” She turns on her, jabbing a finger in her face. “You were supposed to be on your best behavior.”

Ivy folds her arms, leaning against the cubicle wall. “Wasn’t expecting them to send the SWAT after us.”

Batwoman takes a deep breath. “So, how does this work, exactly?”

Licking her lips, Ivy answers. “There’s an antidote in my saliva, but it’s the most potent after I’ve had an orgasm.”

“Then why does it have to be sex?” Bat’s candor is refreshing, if not unexpected. “Why not jill yourself off and get it over with?”

“It’s not so simple,” Ivy chuckles. “My DNA is too dissimilar to yours--”

“But if you have my DNA, aka my saliva , with it--”

“An effective antidote.”

“An effective antidote that won’t cause you serious side effects.” She steps towards Bats, holding out her hand. “Any other questions before we start?”

Batwoman quirks her head at Ivy’s clinical tone. “Will Harley be okay with this?”

Ah. There’s the question of the day. Ivy closes her hand, examining her nails as she shrugs. “She’ll be alive . And free.”

Black gloved hands take her bare ones in their own, squeezing them gently. “You love her, don’t you.”

Ivy swallows, feeling as if the ground is moving beneath her boots. “I’d--” do anything for her , she means to say, and give Batwoman the vantage over her.

Batwoman seals her mouth over hers, muffling her reply. And to think this woman had the more ruthless reputation over her male counterpart. Her slips are soft and full, and the gloss slides between them and tastes like dark cherry. Intoxicating. Ivy dares to dart her tongue between them, and taste that poison just that much more.

Her pheromones work quickly as they enter Batwoman’s system. Her professional silence slips into wanton moans, and her hands work into the top of Ivy’s bust. She shivers, leaning into her touch, whispering encouragement. “Go ahead. Touch me everywhere you’d like.”

Nearby, an officer lets out a guttural cry, “Please, baby. Gimme more.”

That pulls Batwoman’s attention away, and Ivy drags it back with the drag of her nails across the material of her uniform. “Shh. Don’t mind them. They can’t even hear us over the sound of their own sex.”

Batwoman’s voice is husky as she pulls the top of Ivy’s corset down. “You sure?”

“Mmhm. Happens all the time.” Batwoman laughs at that, and moans as Ivy’s hands dally around her utility belt. “Now, aren’t these things booby trapped?”

Nodding, Batwoman whispers. “Security disengage: Code Sappho.” The utility belt snaps open falling into her hands.

Ivy laughs. “Oh my god .”

“Laugh all you want. I’m changing it as soon as this is over.”

Setting the belt aside, Ivy runs a finger down to Batwoman’s crotch. She drinks in the hiss from her lips, adding more pressure and more fingers, drawing heat between her legs and hopefully a little wetness. “You like that, don’t you.”

“Nn, fuck.” Batwoman leans into her touch. She’s a goner.

Ivy loves this part of the game, taking the most stubborn partner and watering their desire until it breaks them apart like tree roots in a sidewalk. It’s different from when she makes love to Harley. This is less like romance and more like chess. How many moves until she queens her king? “That’s it. Tell me what feels good.”

Batwoman’s knees go weak, and Ivy shoves her into a rolling chair. She presses the heel of her hand into her groin. “Oh g-- . Mm.” Gasping, Bats grabs Ivy's hand and shoves it into her own pants.

“Mm, demanding, aren’t you?” Ivy bites her ear lobe. “I like that.”

“Just get it o --oh. ” Bats leans into Ivy’s skillful touch, and she plays her like a violin, basking in the melody ringing from her lips. But Batwoman would never let a bad girl win, now would she?

Teeth graze Ivy’s neck, and the gasp slips from her mouth faster she can stop it.

“Oh fuck. Fuck yes. Right there.” It no longer registers which goon is saying what. They could all be chanting in unison for all Ivy knows. And she doesn’t care.

Batwoman licks the red line she’s created, and she squeezes Ivy’s breast through her uniform, just on the edge of too hard . She knows exactly what she’s doing. Check . Ivy catches her mouth, tasting her, drawing quick, tight circles around her clit. Just as Bats quakes in her arms, Ivy pulls back. “Oh come on, ” she groans.

“You get tied up a lot , don’t you?” Ivy glances at the zamioculus zamifolia, potted at the opposite desk corner. “You must enjoy it, then.” Batsy’s eyes widen as the vines stretch towards her. “Why else would you keep going to work?”

“It’s annoying as fuck--” The vines halt their progress, and shudder, and the Bat licks her lips. “--On the job.”

“That’s more like it.” The vines curl and twist around Bat’s wrists, binding her to the chair. Two more bind the chair, albeit loosely, to the desk. Let her move her hips, without letting her roll away. Once she’s in place, Ivy sways her hips, slowly undoing the zipper in her one piece suit. She lets it slide down her skin, and Ivy presses her bare breasts into Bat’s face, and just for a moment her mark closes her eyes, breathing her in.

Ivy frowns. This won’t do. This won’t do at all. She whisks the vines away, and Batwoman stares at her. Pulling back again, Ivy kicks her suit past her ankles, and tosses the keyboard aside. She sits on the desk with her legs spread wide. “I’m gonna need you to bed over, darling.”

“I’m not your darling.” Bats turns her chair around, leaning down, and breathing in Ivy’s musk. She barely remembers to tie her up again.

It occurs to Ivy that she hasn’t let anyone other than Harley get this close in a very long time. Usually Ivy leaves her marks to die after they get her pheromones in their system. There was that one time with Selina when one of their capers went sideways. While Ivy swore up and down, Catwoman pulled her goggles away from her eyes and kissed her full on the mouth. And things escalated from there. But that was before Harley.

Batwoman takes her sweet time tasting her, and Ivy finds herself gripping the desk with white knuckles. No. She won’t let her know how nice this feels-- oh. Oh God. “ Fuck.”

And then Batwoman pulls back. “Has Harley been gone that long?”....Did she say that last part out loud?

“Fuck you.”

Tilting her head to the side, Batwoman asks, “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Oh, but Ivy wants to wipe that coy smile off that face and replace it with her pleas for mercy. “Almost. Do you prefer to be teased or penetrated?” Ivy leans forward with her breasts pressed together, her words clinical and her grin anything but.

Bats dares to look her over, drinking the sheen on her skin. Her mouth never quite closes. She licks her lips, almost panting as she asks. “Must I choose?”

Ivy takes Bat’s chin in her hands. “Greedy, aren’t you?”

Whatever Bat’s snarky reply is, it’s lost in Ivy’s mouth as she claims her once more. This time neither of them hold back, devouring each other sloppily and noisily. Ivy trails kisses down Bat’s neck, and she summons another vine. The tiniest, softest leaf brushes across Bat’s clit. Batwoman cries out sharply, straining against her bonds.

“Ready?” Ivy pulls the vine back, examining the wetness dripping down its stalk. Oh, she’s ready all right. But Ivy wants to hear her say it.

“Ivy .”

Digging her fingers into Bat’s chin, Ivy nearly growls. “ Beg for it. ” The vine teases her clit faster, not harder, never quite getting her where she wants it. No, needs it.

Goosebumps run down Batwoman’s arms. “ Please.”

How fortunate that one of the cubicle dwellers has taken to growing a ficus ginseng microcarpa as a bonsai tree. Ivy draws out one of the aerial roots, sculpting it into the right shape. She slides a condom on it, safety first, of course, and lets the plant do the rest. It enters Bats slowly, slowly filling her up. Her eyes bulge as it pulls back, and pushes back in. No sound spills from her mouth, but her hips shift, thrusting with the plant as it fucks her.

Fuck, but Ivy’s mouth is dry. Her thighs twitch, rubbing together hungrily as she watches. She wants to touch herself so bad but she won’t give Batwoman that satisfaction. She won’t. She...

Batwoman’s face twists, and her mouth pinches shut. Her back arches and the chair squeaks across the floor. The groan rasps out of her mouth as her jaw drops into the perfect Oh.

“Not bad.” Ivy picks some lint off of her arm, releasing Batwoman from her bonds. “The antidote should be working now. Thank you for the view --”

The vigilante charges forward, gripping Ivy’s arms and pressing her back into the desk. Ivy watches the monitor crash to the floor. “I’m not done yet.” Batwoman’s signature lipstick has smeared across her chin in a very un-Batlike fashion. Her gloved fingers poke at Ivy’s clit, and she hisses. “Still sensitive, aren’t we? Still unsatisfied?” Her voice drops low and teasing, and fuck, Ivy won’t tell her to fuck off now .

Those same fingers that cast batarangs and grip grappling hooks dig into her, twisting and pulling. A chorus of cries ring out in harmony with her own, as Ivy lifts her hips off the desk, thrusting into Batwoman’s touch. “Yes. Yes.” Bats grins into Ivy’s mouth, drawing out her moans. Harley would do the same thing, but Ivy doesn’t want to think about her right now. She doesn’t want to think about anything at this moment. She draws up a vine, letting it coat itself in its own juices. Nice and easy , she tells herself, pulling away from Batwoman so she can look her in the eyes.

The vine slithers between her butt cheeks, small end first. Batwoman raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t stop her delicious torment. In fact, she licks her lips a little. “Ah, fuck. Fuck. ” Her hand works in tandem with Ivy’s vines, pushing and pulling her hips back and forth like a rubber band. She chuckles into Ivy’s mouth, claiming it again, tasting it again. Only chuckling louder as Ivy begs and begs for release. Batmwoman clenches Ivy’s hip with her free hand, digging in her fingers so she feels that much more used . And fuck her, Ivy loves it.

If the pigs nearby are still fucking, Ivy can’t hear them.

She doesn’t even hear herself moaning into Batwoman’s ear. She only hears the slick as she’s fucked from both sides. And oh , the fullness of both . Ivy grips Batwoman’s shoulders to keep from shaking apart, and she bites the skin of her neck as she explodes with the heat of the sun.

Ivy stretches as the vine and Batwoman pull back, and she hums with satisfaction. Batwoman watches her with molten eyes. “Should we go agai--”

Ding! The computer chimes nearby.

Ivy sits up quickly, shaking off the last vestiges of her afterglow, slinking her one piece on and zipping it up the back. The zipper gets stuck, and before she can weigh the pros and cons of asking , gloved fingers finish the job for her. “Transfer’s done.”

“Finally.” Ivy grabs her boots, marching to the office barefoot.

Batwoman clicks a few keys, and whistles . “Mission’s already done. She’s at Metropolis General.”

“She’s hurt !?” A branch snaps in a horrid crack behind them.

“She was, but she’s being discharged today. Better hurry.”

Batwoman doesn’t need to tell her twice.

Ivy pauses to don her boots in the hallway. Nearby she hears the sound of a half-a-dozen special response officers zipping up their flies. “Ah, fuck. I lost a button. Anyone see the button to my uniform?”

“Fuck off. At least you’re not missing a contact lens.”

“Hey! Who stole my gun?”

“Ah shit. Mine too.”

Leaving them behind, Ivy chuckles. The green always knows how to take good care of her. Soon she’ll return the favor.

------

Room 23. The hospital stretches on in an endless maze. Ivy forces herself not to run, to carry her empty clipboard like she’s a doctor making her rounds. Just act like she belongs there and no one will notice. So far so--

Ivy’s heart soars when she spots the room number.

“Harley!”

Harley shoots up in bed, swaying a little, but her shit eating grin tells Ivy everything will be okay. “Pretty girl!”

Ivy sits on the bed, planting a shy kiss on Harley’s lips. “I need to tell you something.” She explains the events of the past 24 hours, and Harley’s eyes go wide. Twisting her hands, Ivy waits an eternity for Harley to reply.

“Was she good? Do you think she’d be down for a threesome?”

“Harley!”

#dc comics #poison ivy #batwoman #jason todd #poison ivy x batwoman #finished this a few weeks ago #but was dealing with a breakup #sorry about the delay #melody writes #thank you asshat anon bot for reminding me to post more content you hate :P #lemon

12 notes · View notes

wheelersdealer · 5 years ago

Text

Little Devil

Request: Hey, I have a Steve Harrington X reader request... U know when eleven gets bitten by the ST3 monster and then that weird thing comes out of the bite on her leg, could u possibly do it so it's the reader who gets bitten and Steve is helping them. I hope this isn't too much to ask for 😊 - @nerdy-collector-festival Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Warnings: STRANGER THINGS SEASON 3 SPOILERS! Profanity, descriptions of blood and gore. A/n: I reblog all gifs I use under #gif.

“Y/n? Y/n — hey hey hey hey hey—!” Steve grabs you when you try to walk away. You don’t get far but regardless you keep trying, even when his arms. You’re burning up yet feel so cold, and his warmth does nothing to help you feel good. You can’t even think of his comfort or why he’d be worried, you just try to get out and on your own. But that quickly your energy is all gone and you’re still, limp against him.

“Y/n, what’s…?”

That look he first thought to be scorn on your face for all the things Dustin described the two of them doing…with a deeper look, Steve realizes it’s much more pitiful. You’re in pain.

He looks over his shoulder where your eyes are crossed over, looks at El and Mike in a loose grasp, Jonathan hugging his brother Will tight, even Lucas and Erica bickering admits his reunion with Dustin, but he can’t help but give his little sister a faint hug no matter how hard she pretends to be disgusted by it.

It’s all so sweet. And you huff, forcing a smile. But as your eyes go back over one person to the next, you can feel a terrible throbbing and hear a sickening buzz inside of your head. You gently push away from Steve, just a step or two, breathing quicker than your lungs can keep up with as the world starts spinning and this pain in your leg — in everything — gets worse and worse and—

He just took his eyes off for a second or two. For you, it was much longer than that. A second out of his arms and you collapse onto the floor.

“Y/n?!” He yelps, attempting to lung forward and catch you. He barely saves your head from meeting the hard ground, but his grip begins to slip and he yells “Guys?!” As he lowers you completely and comes to kneel around your head.

He leans forward, dropping both knees to the sides of your head to make it easier for him to get in your face.

“Y/n? Y/n?!” He shouts while shaking you.

And then you begin to stir and he reels back relieved, chuckling madly. Until you begin to groan and that strange uncomfortable smile you had from before makes much more sense as you violently kick your leg forward and grab onto him.

Steve looks on slightly clueless and with his jaw slack as Jonathan thinks to hold your leg still and peel off the bandages that were applied earlier.

Back then it was just a cut.

A collective groan at the entity that’s embedded itself into your flesh.

“What is that?” Erica scoffs while Dustin gags into his fist.

Then Steve knows what’s up. He hugs around your shoulders and neck, pulling your upper half into his lap as though he can somehow drag you away from your own, hostile leg. He keeps his hands on your cheeks as best as he can despite the painful twisting of his wrist, and dips his head to keep his lips against your forehead.

He presses rapid kisses and does you the favor of wiping beads of sweat from your skin as your chest rises taller and taller faster and faster.

Mike is by your side, holding his hands on the floor right by our stomach. “There’s something in there.” He says in a hurried breath and gesture for El to come over, but she’s stuck staring at your leg in disbelief as whatever is in there begins to writhe, the swollen flesh no longer just pulsing.

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters. He looks at Steve and tries getting into a position where he’ll even bother to look at him.

“Uh k-keep her talking.” Jonathan is up off the ground, his only moment of hesitation being when he sees Steve’s complacency. He’s hugging you, comforting you, but getting comfort from you. Before he leaves he kneels by Steve to get in his face. “Keep her awake, okay?” He nods along witH Steve, only able to hope that he’s listening.

And then he’s up and gone, running from the group and gathering any tool and utensil he can at nearest food stand in the court.

When he comes back around he drops to his knees with a damn butcher’s knife in hand and Steve wonders if he’s lost his mind.

“J-Jonathan? Jonathan?!” Steve holds his hand out to try and stop him but Jonathan looks at you. You squirm in pain but ultimately nod, giving him the go ahead. Then you squeeze your eyes shut in preparation and Steve feels your nails begins to dig into him.

“No no no no no! Jonathan what are you doin—AH!” He hisses as Jonathan pushes the knife into your wound. That’s when you hold your tongue and dig your nails into Steve’s flesh even deeper. “Jonathan STOP you’re hurting her!”

Jonathan holds his hand out to the wound, bloody and full of pus. His voice is raspy and seems to hurt when he raises it so high but Steve can’t deny that the urgency in his words is justified. “I have to! I have to get it out!”

You grit your teeth and nod as best as you can.

Steve reluctantly leans down again and presses a kiss to your forehead. He stays with his lips against your skin and takes one of your hands away from your face so he can hold it down by your stomach where it’s a more natural position for you. Your squeeze alone hurts like a bitch.

“We’re gonna get it out. It’s gonna be okay, okay Y/n?” He coos.

Then Jonathan pushes his fingers in and you start screaming instead of letting out those organized grunts you managed you hide your pain behind previously.

Steve starts to backtrack on his thought process, really unsure if there’s any way to help you.

God, he doesn’t know how to help you.

He watches with tears brimming his eyes before he forces them shut, letting you squeeze his hand tighter and tighter. The way he stretches so you can hold his hand lifts your head up just enough to also watch as Jonathan struggles with the little devil inside your leg.

“Jonathan hurry up!” Looking to Steve Jonathan can see his brows low and thick, his whole face heavy with anger. He sees Steve’s uneven breath as he tries to steady them for you, to make you feel comfortable in his lap despite the circumstances.

And then you choke out “St—OP! ST—“ your voice getting lost halfway. “STOP!” You shout desperately with strain.

But Jonathan keeps going. He understands your pain but he just needs to get the damned thing out of your leg.

Steve leans forward and tries his best to flick at him. “Jonathan! She said stop!”

He does again. But before he can start up for what he considers the grater good, El nudges him.

She looks at you, she looks at Steve, she looks at Jonathan and Mike too. She gets the nod from you and Mike and Jonathan but Steve just stares in disbelief.

Then you’re pouting and whimpering and whining up at him. He sees your lips trembling as the discomfort of the situation still gives you an uncontrollable smile.

Steve nods.

And Eleven focuses herself.

And you scream louder and louder.

It hurts her to go so far, without the doubt the worst pain you’ve ever had the misfortune to feel. And damn if the Russians can’t hear you right now.

Everybody’s screaming with you. Either to cheer you on, cheer Eleven on, or out of disgust when she gets just the tail-end of the create out before it slithers back into the cavity its made. When you get a look at the damn thing you scream even louder out of fear this time knowing it’s something so, so disgusting.

Focusing her brows, the veins on her head popping out, Eleven stretches her fingers as far out as she can muster before ripping the sucker from your leg with a gush of blood coming out where it blocked and attached to your blood flow. The glass of the store behind you completely shatters as she screams, and without a thought, she throws it a good distance, absolutely heated. It lands with a weak plop as it hits the linoleum, and she gets on her knees to hold your feet and coo while you finally get a chance to breathe.

You swear you almost have a heart attack when there’s a loud thump in the direction where she threw it. You all look back…and there’s Hopper having killed the thing under his boot.

You’re mildly relieved.

But there’s still blood. Lots of blood.

Steve was biting on his thumb the whole time in between kissing your temples. He’s relieved too and lets out a shaky laugh. It’s soft and only between you two, so you laugh too from relief that the damn thing is gone.

Jonathan gets back up on his feet and is hesitant to either keep the job going (after all you’re bleeding out) or stop for his mother’s sake.

He stares her in the eyes as she approaches, and holds a hand out. “Bandages,” he says. “We need more bandages.”

Max goes “Oh!” And remembers the little box she smuggled out of the store and stored into her pocket. Jonathan does his best to put pressure on the wound with some of the dish towels he picked up but no way is he letting cloths soaked in the grease and sweat off fry cook’s hands wrap around your leg for God knows how long.

He mutters “Sorry Y/n,” right as he does it but it’s nothing compared to that.

Max fumbles, getting out the tightly rolled bandages from the package. It’s only as thick as her two thumbs and she worries it won’t be enough, but when you grab onto her hand before she stands back up, she feels comfortable with her contribution. You smile at her and squeeze her knuckles before letting her go.

“Uhm, rubbing alcohol? Wherever you got the bandages—did you get rubbing alcohol?”

“Yup!” Lucas slips off his bag and drops it on his knee beside you. Your eyes are not focusing and your whole demeanor is quite loopy, so you giggle when Lucas winks and smiles at you before whipping out the bottle he smuggled. He figured you’ve been at this long enough to have known you would all potentially be needing multiple trips to the supermarket.

Jonathan unrolls the bandage but is stuck. He stutters, “Uh-I uh—“

Then Steve sighs and starts to get up. “Give it. You go find clean towels.” Jonathan nods and tosses it to Steve. He barely catches it but pushes it against his palm to keep it safe. “You,” he nods at Mike, then down at you and while he gets up Mike comes around to where he once sat so he can keep your head cushioned.

Steve kneels down by your feet. When his eyes meet yours his flicker away immediately. But you’re smiling and he can’t help smiling too. He knows you don’t mind it, but he feels like an ass in this instance.

He props up your leg and pulls at the bandage to figure out which way it needs to go. It’s one of the ones with a sticky portion at the end to hold it all together and not the kind that you tuck. Lucas hands him the rubbing alcohol just as Jonathan jogs back with a towel. You can see him sniff it softly to make sure it’s actually clean and not reeking of more grease.

“Thank you,” Steve mumbles. He tries avoiding your eyes again but can’t and says “Sorry about this,” as he pours the rubbing alcohol over the bunched up towel. He holds it over your leg so of course it stings when some of it goes right through. Still, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve just been through.

“Sorry,” he says again as he puts the soaked towel to your injury with purpose.

Now that hurts like a bitch.

And apparently, your hands do too.

“Ow ow ouch ouch,” Mike seethes. Max slaps him on the arm and he yells “Sorry!” Before Hopper comes around. He nudges his leg with his foot and nods his head for Mike to go anywhere else. Hopper kneels and Mike gives him reign over your comfort, your head resting in his lap instead.

He immediately gives his hand and you squeeze as soon as you get it. Steve doesn’t miss a spot. He basically cleans your whole leg before he’s comfortable enough to bandage it up.

“You doin’ okay Y/n?” Steve asks.

You force a smile. “Never better.”

His high school and sports days have suited him for knowing how to tie a good bandage.

He finishes up and despite the sticky assistance at the end of the roll, he also remembers to tuck the end down under the rest of it to keep it extra secure.

Steve and the others get up, with Steve leaning forward and holding both hands to you to help. You grab onto him and Hopper helps even more when he stands. You stumble forward into Steve’s arms and he holds your head against his chest while whispering in your ear.

“We’re never doing this again,” he chuckles.

“Ugh.” He kisses your forehead. “I hope the hell not.”

Things go quiet and it’s like you can hear the ticking of a watch. Maybe it’s a clock somewhere overhead. With the tick, tick, tick making your head ache, you close your eyes and wrap your arms around Steve knowing his presence alone can make it better.

Then Hopper clears his throat and popping an eye open, you realize that tick tick ticking sound is him tapping his foot on the ground.

“Oh yeah…” Steve mutters. “Looks like the gang’s got some explaining to do.”

You roll your eyes and can only assume everybody else does too.

Hopper smiles. “Sure do.”

#Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington imagines #Stranger Things imagine #Stranger Things imagines #2.3k words #s3 #angst #normal #steve #imagine

1K notes · View notes

jowritesthingss · 5 years ago

Text

Liar, Liar

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): n/a (familial DLAMPR)

Rating: General Audiences

Content Warning(s): fire (nobody’s hurt tho), strong language...boi (that’s a joke they’re kids there’s not rly strong language beyond anx saying “dang it” too much for pat’s liking)

Length: 2,420 words

Brief Summary: Janus wasn’t always as cool and collected a liar as he is now. Also, the split of Creativity because why not.

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

“MORALITY!” Creativity shrieks, racing into the living room and colliding at top speed into said side.

With a loud “oomph!”, Morality reaches out to enclose a seven-year-old Creativity in his arms, rocking the other side reassuringly. “Wh-what’s wrong, Creativity?” he struggles to pant through having his breath completely knocked out of him.

“D-Deceit’s being meeean to me again!” Creativity whines into Morality’s shirt.

Morality looks accusingly up at Deceit, who stands faux-innocently in the doorway.

Deceit shrugs. “No I’m not,” he defends himself. “I’m just telling the truth. Creativity is a big, weird, whiny baby. It’s a fact.” He points at Logic smugly. “Ask Logic. He’ll tell you.”

Cuddled up in his corner, Logic looks up from some fourth grade science textbook that he probably already knows cover to cover. “Please do not bring me into this little tiff of yours,” he says imperiously. After a moment, the facade melts, and he brightens. “Didja like that word? ‘Tiff’? It was the word of the day in Language Arts today, not that any of you were paying attention. It means—”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” Deceit and Creativity chorus and well, at least there’s something they can agree on, Morality supposes.

Disappointed, Logic’s face sinks into a pout. “Fine.” His lip wobbles dangerously. “I can see when I’m not needed.”

And with that, Logic sinks down, presumably off to go bother Anxiety instead.

Morality knows that he should really go after Logic and reassure him that no, he really is needed, and they all really do love him. But with Logic no longer in the living room causing a distraction, Creativity and Deceit start to go off at each other again.

“You’re a booger head,” Deceit hisses, triumphant. “Logan’s the stinky poo-poo side, and you’re the booger side, you...you lame person.”

“No! I’m not a booger!” Creativity protests, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “J-just ’cos I thought it was a kinda dance that one time d-doesn’t make me the—the—”

Morality tries to gather Creativity back up in his arms, but Creativity pulls away from him, stubbornly glaring at Deceit even as tears start to pour down his trembling cheeks.

Deceit laughs, pointing a finger at Creativity. “And now you’re a crybaby! So you’re the crybaby side too?”

“H-hey, Dee, you really need to st—” But Morality’s pathetic attempt at crowd control is drowned out by a rapidly crescendoing siren.

Creativity is now openly wailing, his feet planted and his head tilted to the ceiling and his mouth gaping wide, and oh, dear, that’s never good.

Whenever Creativity starts to cry, it’s a toss-up as to whether he’ll hide in his room for a week or rampage through the entire mindscape destroying things. There’s not really an in-between, and there’s no way to tell which he’ll do each time.

“You’re—you’re a liar! You’re nothing but a liar!” Creativity asserts, his voice panicky and patchy and tremulous. He points a shaking finger at Deceit in return, trying to laugh at him, but the result is rather pitiful. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

Then, all at once, Creativity shifts.

The tears dry up abruptly, and a too-wide, disconcerting grin spreads across his face.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Creativity says lowly, smiling way too much for someone who had just been in the darkest pits of despair.

Morality sucks in a breath, holding it, uneasily wondering what Creativity is planning.

Deceit has the decency to look slightly abashed, but he holds his ground nevertheless.

And then his pants burst into flame.

Morality is the first to scream, pointing a horrified finger at Deceit’s pants.

Deceit, wanting to know what Morality is screeching about, looks down...and promptly begins some screeching of his own, accompanied by little terrified hops all over the place. He dances around the living room, as if that’ll somehow magically douse the fire, but the extra exposure to oxygen only seems to be doing the opposite.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire. Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Creativity chants delightedly, a manic look on his face.

Logic abruptly rises back up to see what the ruckus is. He takes one look at Deceit running around, body engulfed in flames, and Creativity chanting not unlike a cult member, and Morality screaming...and he sinks back out.

A few moments later, a thoroughly reluctant Logic rises back up, being dragged by a fuming, worried Anxiety.

Anxiety surveys the scene in front of him for one, two, three seconds. Then—

“Deceit! Stop, drop, and roll already, you dummy!” he yells over the din, his voice slightly distorted. “Creativity, you weirdo, stop chanting, dang it!”

“L-language,” Morality mumbles brokenly, eyes wide as he watches the scene in front of him slowly begin to wind down.

Deceit pauses for a moment as Anxiety’s instructions sink in. Then he stops. Drops. Rolls.

Right onto the couch.

Setting the couch on fire.

“NO, dang it!” Anxiety screams, voice fully distorted now, and Morality is much too concerned with the six foot wall of raging flames to call him out on his strong language.

“Morality, a little help here!” Anxiety calls across the room, and the distorted, fully unadulterated panic shocks Morality into action.

It’s time for the Dad Voice. Morality sucks in a big, smoke-filled breath. He chokes. Sucks in another, more careful breath. Tries to make it look vaguely cooler this time.

“STOP!” Morality hollers, his voice magnified, deep, and booming over all the screaming coming from the other sides.

Everyone stops.

Logic stops mid eye-roll. Deceit stops stop-drop-and-roll-ing. Creativity stops chanting. Anxiety freezes in place. Even the fire all over Deceit and the sofa listens to Morality, slowing and shrinking and quickly petering out.

“That is enough,” Morality asserts. Gosh, he hates pulling the Dad Voice card on everyone, especially since they’re all basically the same age, and it always makes him feel so bad. But the cacophony going on in Thomas’ mindscape really was enough. If it got any worse, it would start to affect Thomas in the real world. “Deceit, stop calling people mean names. Creativity, stop setting people on fire.”

The two sides in question reluctantly mutter their assent.

“I’m telling Anxiety on you,” Deceit threatens Creativity under his breath.

“What the—dude!” Anxiety throws his arms up in the air, frustrated. “I’m literally right here,” he snaps, thoroughly Done with everything and everyone. “Who d’you think told you to stop, drop, and roll?” He mutters something illegible to himself before raising his voice again. “God, I wanna say a bad word so much right now but Mo would kill me.”

Deceit looks up and over at Anxiety. He stares quietly for a moment, astonished. Then tears begin to well up in his eyes—real tears, for once, not the crocodile tears he likes to pull on Morality to get what he wants. “I—I—Anx!” he blubbers, racing over to Anxiety and burying himself in the slightly taller side’s arms without prompting. “C-Creativity set me on fire! I was just pretending with him and he set me on fire!”

Chagrined, Anxiety looks at Morality from over Deceit’s head. He rolls his eyes and shrugs, a ‘what can ya do’-type gesture.

Morality returns the gesture before sternly turning to handle Creativity. “It doesn’t matter what Deceit said or did to you,” he says. “We do not set people on fire. You will apologize. Right. Now.”

“B-but!” Creativity protests feebly. “He...he started it though.”

“And I’m ending it. Right here, right now. Now.” Morality places his hands on his hips, staring down at the suddenly-meek side in front of him, quite a far cry from the crazed lunatic that had been present not two seconds ago. “Creativity. I believe you have something to say to Deceit...?”

Creativity nods earnestly, eyes wide and pleading. Then his eyes harden, and he shakes his head. “Yes—no. Yes. Uh.” He buries his face in his hand and peeps out at Morality, as if that can protect him. “M-maybe?”

“Uh-uh. There is no maybe in this, mister. It’s either a yes or a no.” Only a yes, really, but Morality’s gonna let the kid choose his own fate, even if that means he gets himself grounded for a month.

“Y-yes. Nooo.” Creativity clutches at his face, dropping to his knees on the ground. He lets out a pained cry, then, to everyone’s utmost surprise, two strange voices sound in contrast to each other.

“Yes!” one of the voices shrieks, delighted.

“No!” the other strange voice protests in tandem, defiant.

A flash of bright light—brighter than even the flames that had so quickly covered the still-smoking, now-singed sofa. Forced to look away, the sides all cover their eyes, squinting at the incredible brightness.

There is a yell—of pain?—of triumph?—and then, just like that, the light is gone.

Logic is the first one to chance opening his eyes, ever the curious soul and wanting to know what just happened. What he sees in the place where Creativity once stood makes him stop and stare, mouth hanging open.

Where Creativity had been standing in the middle of the living room, there are instead two strange new sides—one red, and one green. They both sit, curled up on the floor, disoriented and blinking up at everyone in a sort of tired confusion.

Logic steps forward. “Who...who are you?” he asks, his want to know overruling his wariness. The two of them just look so familiar, but Logic can’t for the life of him figure out why.

The two look up at him in tandem, cocking their heads with alarming similarity. They open their mouths.

“Why, I’m Creativity, of course!” they speak in unison, smooth versus garbled speech.

The two of them freeze, turning to face each other, eyes wild.

The green one’s face stretches into a wide grin. “Yes...it worked.”

The red one begins to shake his head rapidly. “No. Nonono. This isn’t happening. You’re not Creativity. I am.”

“No,” the green one says. “No, we are Creativity, brother.”

“Uh.” Morality clears his throat, guardedly inserting himself into the conversation. He swallows hard when the two supposed Creativities swivel their heads to look at him in unison. “Where’s...are you guys Creativity?”

“That’s what we just said, isn’t it, Mo-mo?” the green Creativity simpers, a sickly sweet smile on his face that he turns on Deceit next, standing up and walking over to him and Anxiety.

Deceit cowers into Anxiety’s side as the Creativity approaches him. He peeks his head out, hastily mumbling out a tiny, “’m sorry about...about calling you names.”

“It’s okay!” the green one says brightly. “I thought they were cool names. I like the idea of being the booger side. It matches my new color scheme!” As if to demonstrate, he picks his nose, wiping it on his new black-and-green outfit. “My brother is just a baby.”

Deceit smiles hesitantly, untangling himself from Anxiety and chancing a few steps in the direction of this new Creativity.

“Ew, gross,” the red one says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I don’t like you. You’re a stupid Creativity. I should set you on fire too.”

“Now, uh, Creativity,” Morality steps in again. “We just went over this. Uh. With you when you were...one Creativity?” Patton flounders, unsure of what to refer to either Creativity as. “Don’t make me go through it again now that you’re...uh, two.”

The red one sighs loudly, annoyed. “Fineee!” He pouts before sidling over to Logic. “Nice specs, four-eyes. What are you, a nerd?”

“Yes, and I like it,” Logic shoots back.

The two engage in a heated conversation, but it doesn’t seem quite so heated as the literal fire that had been raging through the mindscape under five minutes ago, so Morality decides to ignore it for the moment. He zeroes in on the green side, who seems slightly more troublesome.

“Y’know, I can teach you how to light fires like that!” the green Creativity is saying to Deceit, who seems much more interested in the idea than is strictly healthy. “That way we can light my brother on fire as revenge! The fire was my idea, of course, he’s not smart enough to come up with it on his own. But he’s the one who actually decided to do it.”

Green Creativity grabs Deceit’s hand with one of his (oh, gosh, that’s the booger hand, ew), and Morality watches as the two race over to the basement door, disappearing behind it.

Morality and Anxiety stare each other down, silently battling to see who is sentenced to the grisly death of going down into the basement after the two clear troublemakers.

Eventually, Anxiety relents. “I’ll go make sure they don’t get themselves killed,” he sighs, absolutely Done with the world yet again (let’s be honest, though, does he really have any other state of being?). “You three just try not to, um, burn down the house again, please?”

“Will do, Anxie!” Morality says nervously, waving a nervous goodbye as the purple side slinks into the basement, snapping the door shut behind him.

“No promises,” Red Creativity and Logic speak up in unison from behind him, then they devolve back into their tits—their—oh, what was that weird new-fangled word Logic had used earlier? gif? tiff?—they just go back to their argument, okay.

Morality turns to face the two of them, trying to feign a smile. After a moment, though, it wriggles off his face, and he sinks his head into his hands, sighing.

Poor Thomas, for having all of these dodos as his sides. Poor Morality, for having to deal with them. He doesn’t get paid enough for this. (He doesn’t get paid at all, who’s he kidding. Is it too late to ask for a different human?)

Turning up the 500-watt smile again, Morality marches over to Logic and this new Creativity. He plants himself between the two of them, internally forcing himself to come to terms with this. This is his new reality now.

“All right, break it up!” Morality instructs. “Mom’s making homemade macaroni tonight and if you make Thomas act out again, we won’t get any!”

Creativity and Logic immediately freeze.

“No!” Red Creativity laments. “Not the macaroni! We mustn’t lose the macaroni!”

“Indeed, that would be...not good,” Logic agrees seriously, nodding his assent.

The final crisis averted, Morality sighs in relief.

And just like that, peace returns to the mindscape of one Thomas Sanders.

Well. Just for the moment, at least.

(Tomorrow, when Green Creativity tries to put slugs in his brother’s pants, all bets are off.)

Fin

May I present to you: the real reason behind the Creativity split—a tantrum, pure and simple. And as for why Deceit ran away from and detested the light sides—utter embarrassment.

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

6 notes · View notes

sojourner-between-worlds · 5 years ago

Text

Burn the Ships, Chapter Six

A/N: Merry Christmas, ya’ll! ^.^

. . . . .

Chapter Six

“Let me get this straight: you’re planning on interrogating a spy right here on the dock?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Alex is still getting stitched up, and it would waste time to haul him back to the Palace.”

Danny opened his mouth, closed it again, sighed, then said, “You know what? That’s actually not the craziest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Thanks… I think.”

“Do you really expect him to tell you anything, though?”

“If he knows what’s good for him.”

“Just promise me you won’t shoot him. I don’t think the governor would be able to get you out of that one.”

Steve stayed silent as he turned to go back down the dock to where they’d left Agent Branning under the careful supervision of Lou Grover.

“Steven. Do not shoot that man, do you hear me?” Danny started after him. “You know what? I’d better just come with you because I know you, and I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Steve might have smiled if the situation were different. “He’s complicit in the abuse of a child, Danny. So if my gun happens to go off and the bullet happens to shatter his knee cap -- well…”

Danny’s hand came down hard on his shoulder, spinning him around. “Steve, listen to me. I know you’re angry -- you think I’m not? I keep thinking, ‘what if that were Grace?’ and it makes me sick to my stomach, okay? But you can’t help this kid from prison. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I know that, Danny; I’m well aware. But I’m getting answers once and for all, and I will do whatever I need to in order to make that happen.”

Danny sighed again before turning and continuing on his way.

Now a few steps behind his partner, Steve arrived just in time to hear Danny say, “You see this guy behind me? He’s more than a little cranky and definitely hot-headed. So if I were you, I’d just tell him what he wants to know, because there is literally no telling what he might do if you don’t -- and, believe me, I’ve seen him do some crazy things.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Just stating the facts. So if he ends up shooting you in the knee, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Steve almost smiled as Danny stepped to the side. “What were you doing here in Hawaii?”

“Commander McGarrett, you and I both know I came for a vacation with my ward.”

“Yeah, and you and I both know that’s a load of crap.”

Branning shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Ten people came down here to kill you and Alex. You can’t expect me to let this go.”

“Wrong place, wrong time. You know how it is,” he replied with a condescending smirk.

Not even a minute had passed and Steve was already done with this. “Okay. Well, let me tell you what I think, and then we’ll see if you stick with that story, shall we?”

“Allow me to reintroduce myself: I am Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, former member of SEAL team six. I’ve served in a lot of countries, seen a lot of action. So when there are four former drug dealers dead on my island that all have scorpion tattoos that identify them as former Scorpia assassins, that raises some questions.”

Steve realized then that, although Branning worked for the CIA, he’d probably never been a field agent -- or, at least, was long retired from it.

“How do you know about that? There’s no way you’ve ever had clearance high enough.”

“Yeah, well, when your team is in Afghanistan and accidentally uncovers a cell of them instead of ISIS, you kinda become privy to that information.

“So here’s my theory: Alex was sent undercover to discover if these particular guys were still a threat, and if they were, to eliminate them. How’d I do?”

“That would be child abuse.”

Steve felt his fist crack into the agent’s face before he’d made the conscious decision to swing. He could feel the anger radiating off of Lou and Danny beside him and knew they would have loved to be the ones to do that, too. He couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice as he growled, “The fact that you can say that with a straight face is enough reason for me to want to shoot you right here, right now, and I’d bet my life Lou and Danny would testify that you went down in the shootout.”

Branning spit to the side and turned his head back towards Steve, a bruise already starting to form across his cheekbone. “It’s not like he was forced into it.”

“And how, pray tell, does that justify this? Does any child choose to be abused?”

Branning smirked. “You can’t prove a word of this, McGarrett, and you know it. Alex chose to work for the company, and he can leave any time he wants.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.”

“No, I mean it. Taking care of that kid is like walking around with sand in your shoes. I didn’t volunteer for this, but he did -- that’s just the job. I’d be more than happy for someone to take him off my hands, but that’s never going to happen because Alex is here because he wants to be.”

Steve knew that was a lie; Alex had told him as much, that he’d never wanted this, but he felt trapped. But, if it was truly the case that Alex was free to leave, then maybe all Steve needed to do was give him a reason.

He glanced back over his shoulder, wondering how Alex was doing. He’d seemed a little squeamish when stitches were mentioned, and Chin was with him, but honestly Steve wished he was the one sitting with the kid right now. Turning back and unclenching his jaw, he said, “Lou, take him to the station and have him booked for child abuse.”

“With pleasure.” Lou stepped over and hauled Branning to his feet by the arm.

Branning chuckled. “It won’t stick.”

“Yeah, probably not, but it will waste a few hours of your precious time.” And be probable enough cause for CPS to temporarily pull Alex’s custody from you.

As Steve watched them walk away, Danny side-stepped closer. “What -- no ‘book ‘im, Danno’?”

“No. It’s Christmas Eve, and if we still wanna have this party, you need to get home.”

“That is a very good point. You still coming?”

“Yeah -- but, hey? Maybe plan for one more.”

He could feel Danny staring at him before he asked, “Alex?”

“Yeah. I - uh, really need to have a talk with him and make a couple of calls, but…”

Danny nodded and clapped him on the shoulder as he started to leave. “Alright. I’ll see you later tonight then.”

I just hope this works.

. . .

“Hey, there he is.” Chin nodded in the direction of the dock.

Alex glanced up but quickly returned his gaze back down to his hands. “You think he’s mad?”

“Probably -- but less at you than you might think. I’m sure he’s more relieved that your arm looked worse than it is.”

“I broke my promise. Again.”

“You did what you thought was best at the time. Steve will understand that.”

The paramedic was just finishing wrapping his arm when Alex saw Steve’s boots stop on the pavement in front of him.

“Hey. Give us a minute?”

Alex watched the medic’s shoes disappear, his heart pounding in his chest. He really didn’t want to have this conversation right now -- or ever, really.

“Danny already took off, so can I hitch a ride with you?”

“Of course,” he heard Chin reply. “Looks like I picked a good day to drive my car instead of the bike, huh? I’ll wait over there; take your time.”

“Thanks.”

As the lieutenant’s boots retreated, Alex lost his last buffer. Silence fell between them, and after a moment, Alex couldn’t stand it any longer, so he blurted out the first and only thing his exhausted brain could come up with.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.”

He wasn’t expecting the commander to burst out laughing, and his head snapped up at the sound.

“That’s really what you’re concerned about right now, huh?” McGarrett chuckled. “Kid, that is so low on my list of priorities right now -- it’s not even on the radar.”

Alex watched, not knowing what to do now, as McGarrett took a couple of steps and hoisted himself to sit on the gurney next to him with a tired sigh, all humor suddenly forgotten as he stared out towards the lagoon. Here it comes, he thought, but when McGarrett spoke, it wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

“More than five years ago now, I was sent on a black op into North Korea. I took my best buddy with me, and our goal was to extract a man named Anton Hess. The mission was a success, but I lost my friend in the process. He covered me so I could get Anton out, and if he hadn’t sacrificed himself that day, we’d both be dead right now.

“But as I was transporting Hess back, our convoy got hit, and he ended up dead, too. In retaliation, Anton’s brother, Victor, killed my father. In the span of a day, I lost two of the most important people in my life.

“I came back to Hawaii for my dad’s funeral, and that’s when the late Governor Jameson offered me this job. It started as a way to track down Victor Hess, but it turned into so much more and, as it happened, turned out to be exactly the change that I needed.” He paused, finally turning to face Alex. It was easy to see the sincerity and conviction burning in his eyes.

“I’m not going to pretend to know exactly how you feel, but I understand what it’s like to have the people you love killed and to not be able to do anything to prevent it. I know… I know what it’s like to have your world ripped apart, and how it feels to think nothing is ever going to be okay again, to throw yourself into something -- anything -- just to have a reason to keep going.

“But eventually you have to stop running. You have to let yourself heal. And you can’t do that by just ignoring it and adding more trauma on top of what you already have.

“It’s okay to let yourself heal, and if you can’t get there on your own, it’s okay to ask for help.”

Alex couldn’t stand it any longer. He turned his gaze away, throat tight with emotion, focusing instead on where he was twisting his hands in his lap. After a moment, he choked out, “Lieutenant Kelly told me about how you recruited your team. Detective Williams was struggling to adjust to life here after a messy divorce; Lieutenant Kelly himself was a disgraced cop; Officer Kalakaua wasn’t even out of the academy yet; Captain Grover was forced into early retirement from SWAT. But none of those things mattered to you. You always seem to show up in people’s lives when they need someone the most. Do you think that’s true for me too?”

McGarrett was quiet for a moment before he spoke softly, “I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot to find out, don’t you think? All you have to do is say the word, Alex, and I promise you I’m not gonna leave you alone. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Alex tried to cut off the sob building in his chest but then decided he didn’t care anymore. He was exhausted and injured; that should give him a free pass to be as emotional as he wanted. As the tears started to fall, he felt a hand settle, heavy and reassuring, between his shoulder blades. Alex let himself have a minute before he pulled himself back together enough to give a shaky nod and a whispered, “please.”

“Consider it done.”

Alex took a shaky, deep breath, swiping a hand over his cheeks. “What -- uhm, what exactly does this mean?” He glanced up at the man.

McGarrett smiled down at him. “It means it’s time to burn some ships of our own.”

. . . . .

Tag List: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @ghostly-homo @grungeweasel @just-add-butter

#alex rider #hawaii five-0 #crossover fanfiction #fic:Burn the Ships

15 notes · View notes

iraniq · 5 years ago

Text

The Call of the North

! ! A. N.: I was suppised to post this last year... I didn't I am posting it now, you can see it's old info. Was about the meeting between Nightwish and Mars, that I hoped for, but didn't happen... Since the MAESTRO is having a birthday today... I am sharing my little baby ! !

******

- Hey... Babs!

- Yes... Yes... Summer? - ypu yelled.

- Yes summer!

- No you are summer!

- You have my last name, you are Summer too.

- Ugh... I am Summer's... You are the... Nevermind. I would like to make a call.

- ...

- J! - you childishly tapped with yoir food on the floor.

- What? How am I stopping you?

- You have his number.

- Oh... You wanna call the Maestro!

- It's his birthday! - you smiled. - That's the law.

He gigled and gave you his phone.

Beginning of October

- Hey... Hey... This place is huge, I I'll loose you all! - you slowly walked your 1'55m existance in the big reception hall of the hotel.

- Hope so! - Kyle said, crossing his fingers.

- The only thing saving you is your hair!

- Hahaha imagine if he cuts it off! - Kennon laughed.

- No, my girl's gonna kill me! Get lost, both of you! - Kyle laughed. - Samuel, come here, OK may need photo proof of what may follow. Nice shirt too.

- Thanks! - ypu waved a hand, looking away.

- Where is this? - Kennon turned me around to see.

- The birth places of 2 gods.

- We kinda got that from the front. - Matty pointed smirking.

- Photos only after you pay me.

- We? To pay you... - Matty and Samuel both said.

- Yes... As I recall pretty misses are paid.

- Hell of a woman dude! - Kyle said looking somewhere behind you.

- Why? - I leaned closer.

- She is tall.

- Aha...

You all proceed talking, got ourselves drinks and headed to the garden. You heard men laughing and someone spoke in broken English.

- Nice shirt - a man's soft voice said.

- How can you tell it's nice since you have no idea what's on it. - you drank of your juice, not bothering to look back, sassing, since Kyle, Matty and Samuel got on your nerves.

- I know my Birthplace, it's not that's uncommon knowledge where I come from.

You felt your heart stopped and you chocked on your drink. He and his company laughed.

- Hey, don't be rude! - a familiar voice said walking towards you.

You fast turn around and saw your brother. He had lightly hugged you, still half asleep from the jet lag.

- Shush! - you quietly hissed. - Do you know who this is?

- I don't care who he is, he can't talk to you like this.

- He didn't say anything... Bad.

- Hello. - Summer appeard out of nowhere.

- Wow, two genius people togwther. - a woman's voice announced.

The others looks at the corner, noticing a long haired man and the big woman Kyle admired.

- Fucking shit... That's Nightwish! - your dorky fangirled and the rest went to say "hi".

Eventually all moved to the couchesnearby. You slowlu walked there, Shannon was right behind you. Kyle was taking wild selfies with Floor Marco was explaining Jared how to grow a beard like his... Tuomas... He was just sitting there, alone... You tried not to stare, at least not to obvious.

- I really like your shirt. - he suddenly spoke. He wasn't a man of many words, but every one was perfectly picked for the needed occusation.

- Thanks... - you mumbled. Shannon pinched you.

- What inspired you to make this.

You laughed a little bit uncomfortable, and accidentally got all the people's attention.

- Am... - you looked at the shirt, it said 'Gods are born on 25th & 26th of December'. - Well since... - you were already freaking out, how were you supposed to explain this. You looked at J, he nod his head and you felt Shannon's hand massaging your back. - Since my husband is a god, or at least that's what his fans say...

- Thank you! - Jared got up and did a bow, and everyone clapped. People think he is being attention whore, but he know you and Shannon were uncomfortable with a lot of attention on yourself, so he was there for you.

- ... Well, since also you are born on that kind of date as well, and Nightwish were one of the 1st bands I listened and I like you like super much and I admire you and... On and on... I decided to make it look this, and quite a lot of people miss... The obvious info.

- What's the obvious info? - Floor asked.

Shannon spoon you around and pointed at the back of your shirt where the cordinates were.

- So why is he a god? - Emppu asked.

- Have you listens to their songs? - Johanna appeared from the nothing.

You muffed a scream and jumped, turning to J.

- I stalked them to see when they will get married so they can adopt me! - she laughed and then you realized you said this out loud. Jared shrugged, Shannon tapped your shoulder and when you looked at Tuomas he was holding his face in his hands laughing. - Ops... I didn't meet to say this out loud. - Mind the fact non of the band members, especially Tuomas liked the fans looking them like objects and that's exactly what you did.

- Lovely! - Johanna looked the shirt closelt, theb turned to Jared. - You look like Him anyway, I can work with this. - she laughed and said something in their language, then they all laughed.

- So I miss what your shirt said. - Floor asked.

- These are the coordinates of their birth places. - Shannon turned you back around. - The 1st - he showed - is the birth place of the Maestro. - Shannon pointed at Tuomas and Marco cheered. - Kitee. The 2nd one, is Bossier, Louisiana. The birthplace of her husband... - Shannon pointed at his brother. - Also to my brother and me! - then Shannon pointed at himself. - All laughed. - Turned out geographical coordinates of birth cities are not that uncommon info. - he looed at you and frowned.

- Well where I come from they are... - you were about to rang, then you alk heared a loud voice coming towards you.

- Oh... Shannon! - someone yelled.

- Jukka! - you squeezed his arm.

- Leto, I can't believe I see you! - Jukka offered a hand to shake and Shannon accepted. They brwafly hugged - Will you come to our show tomorrow?

- I am flattered, but we will be performing tomorrow night as well.

- One boulevard away and like 30min earlier - you shoot the words and made an innocent grimace when the two men looked at you.

- I am a... Fan of yours, Leto.

- Oh my God... - you sat on the arm of the couch where J was sitting - Jukka is a fan if my brother... Summer, pinch me, I must be dead. - you breathed out and almost fell of.

Everyone suddenly was in a heated conversation with everyone

- Fire, isn't she. - Johanna whispered to Jared.

- You have no ides! - J pretened whined. Tuomas tapped his shoulder and laugher.

End of December!

- Yes?

- Hello birthday boy.

- Oh, the Autumn lady! - Thomas laughed in the other side of the phone line.

- Hyvää Syntymäpäivää! /happy birthday/ - you made a clumsy attempt to say it in Finnish, but failed. He corrected you and you had a small talk, he spoke to Jared too.

- I am flattered, you called.

- Always! You are my eidos love

He laughed.

- OK, I wasn't supposed to say this either... I am sorry, it's disrespectful.

- No, I am honored I am one of the people you look up to. - someone spoke to him - I will send your love to your eidos mom, I have to go.

He hang up.

- So Mrs. Leto, are you happy now.

- Yes! - you hugged J and kissed his nose - The potatoes are almost ready!

- Oh... Potatoes again... - J sighed.

- Joseph! They are Finnish recepie.

****

@diyunho @nikkitasevoli @sougie @rhina988 @lovermrjokerr @pandaliciouz @itsmeauntie @echelongaga @darthjokerisyourfather

#nightwish #tuomas holopainen #30 second to mars #jared leto #shannon leto #mars fic #nightwish fic #celebrating the Maestro's birthday #god's birthday

9 notes · View notes

littlemessyjessi · 6 years ago

Text

James Potter : Fluffy ABC Headcanons: Plus Size Reader

Fluffy Alphabet (Shoutout to my lovely friend, Traenon! She literally saved these for me months ago from something she read and sent it to me through messenger. So credit to OP for the prompts!)

James Potter Headcanons James Potter x PS Reader

X Reader: PS Reader, Plus Size Reader

A = Attractive: what do they find attractive about the other?

Well, the mushy answer is your courage. He's in love with that fierce "Mama Bear" thing regardless of gender. The fact that if someone even breathes a little angry at someone you care about...you just fucking lose your shit. He's real into that ish.

Physically? Hmm, probably them thighs! Yasssss, he could stay there all day. In a sweet fashion...or a naughty one, lol.

B = Baby: do they want a family? why/why not?

As an only child- yes he wants a herd of children. I'm not joking. He told you he wanted six. You nearly killed him but he did say that he was ok with adoption too. The whole carrying a baby thing is fine to him but he's also cool with adoption. He just loves you and wants to have kids around. And to spoil them like he spoils you.

C = Cuddle: how do they cuddle?

Ha, good luck. You're not going anywhere. James is not above pushing the bed against the wall, forcing you to the inside and trapping you between him and the wall. He loves you. You're his favorite. He's not about to give up one ounce of cuddle time.

D = Dates: what are dates with them like?

He does love a good ride on the broom on a clear starring night. I mean, that's just a perk. But honestly? Some of the best have been in detention. He's purposefully gotten you both in trouble before just so you could hang out alone together, lol.

E = Everything: “you are my ____” (e.g my life, my world…)

You are James' inspiration. You're his drive. You are the light of his life and the fire to keep him running. For you? He'd do anything.

F = Feelings: when did they know they were falling in love?

When Sirius' mother showed up at the school and started screaming at him. And you? You hexed her six ways from Sunday. It's your protective nature that really drove it home for James that day. Also, sidenote- Sirius sees you as his sister and you're his favorite. He steals you away from James all the time so you can hang out, lol.

G = Gentle: are they gentle? If so, how?

For all his boisterous personality, James really is a sweetheart. he'd do anything for you. You're amazing to him.

H = Hand/Hold: how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

Listen, if you're near James...You're fucking stuck. That boy, lol. Omg, I hope you're not sensitive about your fingers because he's threading them together and they're in a vise grip...forever. If for some reason, you have to leave to I don't know- void your bladder- prepare to be yanked back into his chest and he'll whine for ten minutes. Only when your bladder is on the brink of explosion and you unlease your rage will he let you go....and maybe not follow you.

I = Impression: first impression/s

Your first impression of him was that he was a git. Second was that he was a pretty awesome quidditch player. You didn't actually give him the time of day until about 5th year and even then you broke his nose when he swatted your bottom playfully. He got the fucking message, lol.

J = Joker: are they into pulling pranks?

Please, he's the king of pranks. He pulled one on you....once. You retaliated to the point of near death. He got the fucking message.

K = Kisses: how do they kiss?

They're so random sometimes but super special and sweet. Never fail to make you smile.

L = Love: who says I love you first?

He did. He's been saying it forever anyway. But the first time for real? He did and it was super cute because he was loaded with firewhiskey. But he remembered the next morning 6 am when the hangover hit him. Poor guy, pajamas barely hanging out and he's screaming up the girl's dormitorities until someone shoved you down to him.

"I just realized I said I loved you last night." "Yeah, I know James." you laughed rubbing sleep from your eye. "I was shit faced." he said. Your laugh was a bit dimmed, "Yeah, I know. You weren't really all there at the moment." "No, that's not what I meant." he said taking your hands into his. "I mean, - what I mean is that I do love. I mean it. I meant it then. I've wanted to tell you for a long time." "James you've been telling me since we were eleven." you laughed. "Yeah, but not for real." he said. "And I mean it- for real. I love you." "I love you too, you crazy boy. Now go back to bed and sleep off your hangover. And for the love of god brush your teeth before you try to talk to me again."

M = Memory: their favourite moment together

He adores the time you nearly beat someone on an opposing team to death because they cheated during a quidditch game. He flew right into the stands to kiss you. Both to quell your rage and because he loved you.

N = Nickel: do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

He does but it's usually vintage finds. Little things you come across together. The both of you have this completely useless matching pocket watches. They don't work and it gets stuck half the time but they match and they're special.

O = Orange: what color reminds them of their other half?

Well, he loves house colors on you of course. But he also favors you in blue. Just something about it on you looks amazing. Doesn't matter the shade. Just blue.

P = Pet names: what pet names do they use?

He's totally a 'babe' person.

Q = Quaint: what is their favourite non-modern thing?

James actually loves going antiquing with you. It's a favorite thing. There's a whole cabinet of useless junk you never do anything with but he likes it. And looking at it makes him smile because he remembers the little dates you went on when you got it and how you got whipped cream on your nose when the two of you stopped for ice cream.

R = Rainy Day: what do they like to do on a rainy day?

Whines. He whines, lol. Truthfully, he doesn't mind the rain. He just doesn't want to be stuck inside. So you drag him up the tower where you can be sheltered but still be outside, technically. You cast a protective, warming, moisture wicking spell and it's all fine. Until his love for you gets the best of him and he tries to get frisky. You threaten to throw him over if he doesn't stop pinching your butt.

S = Sad: how do they cheer themselves/each o ther up.

He cheers himself up by sticking to you like glue. You cheer him up by telling him how much you love him. He cheers you up with the most delicious treat to ever deliciously treat.

T = Talking: what do they love to talk about?

He's a whore of a gossiper, lol. And he knows everyone so he's always got it. As quidditch obsessed as he is, you'd think he'd talk about that. But nope. It's juicy gossip.

U = Unencumbered: What helps them relax?

Baking. Honestly. Baking. A trip to the kitchen and a little experimenting. Somehow baking up a cake or making some cookies puts him at ease.

V = Vaunt: what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

Everyone knows he's amazing at quidditch but he loves to show you that he's intelligent.

Pranks are fine. Quidditch is fine. Magic is fine. But he knows you're impressed with the mind and so he enjoys acing things and making you swoon.

W = Wedding: when, how, where do they propose?

When: Every day from the moment you started dating him. Been calling you Mrs. James Potter since you were 14. The guys literally call you Mother Prongs or Mrs. Prongs.

But he really asks you one day seemingly out of the blue. Truthfully, he's been thinking about it for ages.

"I call you my wife. Everyone says you're Mrs. James Potter. But honestly, babe. That's something I think about all the time." "Are you asking me to marry you?" "Honestly, woman. I haven't even got the question out of my mouth and you're already questioning?" "James." "Give a lad a chance!" "James." "I mean-" "James Potter, if you don't ask me within the next five seconds I'm marrying Sirius." "How dare you!"

Still didn't ask you for six days out of spite and protest. So you acted like you were marrying Sirius.

He held strong until Sirius asked him to be the best man and he nearly killed him, lol.

X = Xylophone: What’s their song?

"My Girl" - The Temptations. And he sings it to you and whoever else who happens to have the unfortunate experience of being around..... Whenever, wherever. Quidditch? Hospital? Funeral? Grocery store? Just know that if it strikes him...he's singing it and you'll have to bare witness to his one man concert whenever he feels the need.

Y = You’re the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

"You're the snitch to my seeker, babe. Can't keep from trying to catch you." "You're a chaser, James." "And you're a keeper. Get it?" "Be very happy that I love you. No one else would put up with this level of cheese." "You got it, babe."

Z = ZZZZ: How do they sleep? Surprisingly light and usually not for very long. Years of quidditch has made him an early bird so he's usually up first. You hear his ass blundering around. But on the plus side, there's always hot tea for you when you do get up.

Hello darlings! Hope you enjoyed this little piece and have a wonderfully awesome day!

If you wanna see more of my content just check out my blogs! @littlemessyjessi is the main blog full of fandom fictions, imagines, headcanons and sickeningly sweet fluff! Yeah, I know, lol. Barf. But hey, I like it. @witchyweirdness is the magical blog full of witchy content And last but not least ! @monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus is my monster blog full of all kinds of monster related content! So I hope to see you there! Love, Kenny

@frankie2902

@pleasantdreamqueen @becrazy–beyou –beyou

@becrazy-beweird

@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts

@therealmrshale @woodworthti666

@jimmys-afterlife-love-deactivat @thegreatirene@fanfictionandjunk

@angelus320

@alanlizzingtonshore@buriednurbckyrd@disneymarina@@tubbypeachwriting

@sullybot @georgiagrl1990 @whenallsaidanddone

@mischiefnevermanaged94 @inumorph

@congurl

@centerhabit

@bubblymusiclover13

@meetcally

@qtmeryr

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@tnupsweetpie

@alisoncdariel

@hannahloveslife

@wormyboi

@blackirisposts

@maggyme13

@amethyst09

@lostdarksoul6

@fanfics1717

@coffeebooksandfandom

@gruffle1

@neeadinghugs

Love, Kenny

130 notes · View notes

current-mcr-news · 6 years ago

Text

Casual Interactions #1: Full Transcription

John: Welcome to Casual Interactions, a show about old friends getting together and telling stories. I'm John "Hambone" McGuire, and with me today are some of my oldest and dearest friends, Frank Iero and Shaun Simon.

Frank has been a traveling musician all his life, best known as the guitar player of My Chemical Romance, and singer of Leathermouth and Death Spells. He's currently fronting his own band and writing music as a solo artist.

Shaun is a writer and is best known for his work on The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Art Ops, and Neverboy. He's currently working on Wizard Beach for BOOM! Studios.

I'm a jack of all trades, and if I told you what I actually did for a living, I'd have to kill you.

So to say that we're busy is an understatement. We are a group of friends who are just looking for an excuse to get together more and hang out. We used to do it over breakfast and we figured that eating eggs on mic would be a little too gross, so we're gonna do this podcast instead. How are you guys doing today?

Shaun: Hey, man.

Frank: Doing good, man. Doing very good. I'm very excited to see you guys.

J: I'm very excited to see you too, man.

F: Especially in front of a mic without eggs on your face.

J: Well, you know, I often have egg on my face. I do say a lot of dumb shit. However, it is a little better to not be chewing on microphone, or slurping, or-

F: I do have hard boiled eggs in my pocket that I'm waiting to bust out for later.

J: Is that what that smell is?

F: That's what I have. I'm prepared, that's what I'm saying.

J: You were a Boy Scout for like 2 weeks. It's evident that you've actually survived your training.

F: When I was a kid though, I went to Catholic school and everybody wanted to be an altar boy, but I couldn't do it because I would see my dad on the weekends.

J: Right.

F: And I couldn't do Boy Scouts either and I was real depressed about that. I remember.

J: Yeah but you know, he taught you how to play drums so there's gotta be a-

F: That was the upside, upswing.

J: There's gotta be an upswing to it.

F: I didn't get touched-

J: Jesus, Frank.

F: -and I learned how to play drums.

J: We're not even a minute in.

S: I can't picture you as an altar boy.

F: I know, me neither.

S: You probably would've burned that altar down.

F: Well here's the thing, think about this-

S: Holding fucking fire in your hands on the fucking altar.

F: Later on, in my career as a grammar schooler in 8th grade, right before graduation, we were gonna have practice graduation. I don't know why you have to have practice for graduation.

J: They need to make sure you can walk in a straight line.

F: Yeah! Exactly. It's like a DUI, basically, yeah, for 8th graders. But we'd have them in the church. And I remember a few of my friends had these stink bombs, and they were like, "Oh, we should throw them in the church." And everybody was like, "No fucking way!" And I was like, "I'll fucking throw that shit!" And I took them and I threw them and I got-

S: Of course you did.

F: Of course I did. And then they wouldn't let me graduate.

J: You were an 8th grade domestic terrorist.

F: I think I was just pissed that I couldn't be an altar boy!

J: Well just think about how a church smells musty, base-line. Like any church you go into, you never walk into a church and go, "Wow! This place smells really good. They must be like, using Yankee Candles or something." It always just smells base-line musty. And then you add a stink bomb to it, in a room that's not very well ventilated either. Oh, Jesus!

F: Yes, I called it Frankincense. Later on though too, I remember I had to go to one of those retreat things because of this, and then I ended up getting in trouble there because we stole the wine and they caught us drinking wine.

J: How about you, Shaun? You ever an altar boy or a Boy Scout when you were a kid?

S: I was an altar boy.

F: You were?!

S: I was, yeah.

F: Oh!

S: I don't know if I have any stories, though. I just did the shit and left. Right?

F: But you have the knowledge and that's how you can judge if I-

S: Right!

F: -you could see me in that position.

S: That's why I can see you burning down the church... if Frank was an altar boy.

J: Now churches just burn when you walk into them. Which is like, gotta be a 9th level spell. Good for you getting to that level of wizardry... So why don't we take a second and step back and talk about how we met.

F: Okay, go ahead.

J: So we all grew up in different parts of town. Frank grew up in Belleville.

F: True.

J: I grew up in Clifton. Shaun grew up on the other side of Clifton. Now for those listening, the city of Clifton is shaped like a giant horseshoe, and this is in New Jersey. It borders 12 other towns, so where Shaun lived in Clifton might as well have been 4 towns away from where I lived.

F: Is it really shaped like a horseshoe?

J: It is shaped like a giant horseshoe.

S: It's shaped like horseshit.

J: Yeah. Just parts of it smell like horseshit. I actually did a report on it in the 6th grade and that's how I know it's shaped like a giant horseshoe. Borders 12 towns, don't ask me to name them now because I don't remember most of them.

F: I'm still thinking of like how- because I get lost everywhere, but maybe that's why I can't figure my way around Clifton.

J: Well you were only ever in Clifton, you'd never actually been outside of it. Like you went from Belleville into Clifton and you just never left.

F: That's true. That's true, yeah. We're talking about origin stories, right?

J: Yes!

F: Alright. I remember, because I met Shaun first.

S: Did you?!

F: Yes!

S: Oh, freshman year!

F: I don't even remember- freshman year orientation.

S: Oh!

F: I met you at the orientation.

S: That's like another world, though. Like, I feel like, I don't know.

F: It's alright, you can say you don't remember me.

S: No, I do remember you. I do remember you!

F: But you were friends with Eugene. And I was friends with Costa.

S: That's right.

F: And they were friends.

S: He used to steal cheese.

F: He used to steal cheese?

S: Didn't he used to steal cheese?

F: From who?!

S: I don't know!

F: I think you made that up, but maybe!

S: Maybe, maybe. He was just a really small kid and I used to think he used to steal cheese.

F: He might have!

J: I think you just projected that on him.

F: I definitely stole a lot of things with him. None of which I believe were cheese, but I mean, it's possible!

S: Maybe he was just mouse-like and I just- anyway.

F: So they would skate together and I remember finding out that you skated too, and then I would just bring a board and watch you guys skate.

S: Did you actually skateboard, though? Or did you just like-

F: I did! And then broke both my ankles, and I was never good.

S: Oh, okay.

F: I think I got as far as, like, I maybe landed 3 Ollies.

J: That's 3 more than me

F: So that's my first remembrance of you. But then you didn't stick around long.

S: I left after freshman year, yeah.

F: So we didn't even really hang out that much.

J: Now, I was 2 years older than Frank in high school, and so, I didn't even know up until we started hanging out years later that you were in the same high school as me because I wouldn't- not that I was like some cool older kid, I definitely was not. However, I wasn't at freshman orientation that year because I was a junior, so yeah. So years later we end up meeting again because of a mutual friend. It was Bruno right?

S: Bruno, yeah.

F: Oh yeah!

J: Because you went to Bergen Community College with Bruno.

S: Kinda went there.

J: Kinda went there. I mean, one does not simply really go to Bergen Community College.

F: Shaun didn't stick around any school for very long.

S: I didn't stick around very long.

J: He's just out there smoking cigarettes, hanging with the cool kids, being bad.

F: Yeah, and he can be an altar boy. I see, alright.

J: He can be an altar boy. He's quiet about it. He shuts the fuck up, he gets in there, does his job, and gets out. Like you, you had to make a production about it.

S: Yeah, Frank would've made sure everyone knew he was an altar boy.

F: This is true! This is true. Fucking drama... Drama boy! Drama altar boy!

J: I mean, I could imagine you like, "I'm an altar boy," and flashing your cross like you're a cop. "Yeah, here. I'm on the job. I'm on the job for Jesus."

F: Ah, shit. Alright, fine. Touché!

J: So, Frank and I played in bands together in high school, and we played with one of our friends named Bruno. Bruno brought Shaun along one night to hang and we've all been friends ever since! We've since played in bands together, we've since played in bands separately, and now we're here in Frank's basement recording a podcast.

F: Isn't that crazy? Fucking small world.

J: It's 20 years.

F: Is it really?!

J: It's about 20 years worth of friendship happening, culminating in this podcast.

F: I'm so old.

S: I don't feel like I'm 20 years older than I was.

J: No, neither do I, man. I still, like-

F: I do!

S: I also don't feel like I look it.

J: No, you don't.

S: I don't know if that's just me.

F: You kept your handsomeness.

J: You were always the looks of the band.

S: Yeah... I don't know about that.

J: So yeah, we love hanging out together. We are always looking for new reasons to hang out because it's hard when you get a little bit older. People have kids, people have different jobs, things that take you different places, some of us going all over the world. So what we're going to do every episode is talk about a different topic. So today we're really just gonna focus on our origin story. So that's how we end up all meeting, and then a little while after that... You know, Frank and I have been playing in bands together since high school, I played with a couple different people. Frank tried to go to college, I tried to go to college a few times, and then we ended up getting back together and deciding to start a new band, and that band ended up being Pencey Prep.

F: Yeah.

J: So we wanted a keyboard player, and we just loved hanging out with Shaun.

S: Wait, did you want a keyboard player-

F: I think we did!

S: -or were you just like, "We like hanging out with this dude, do something for us."

F: I think it was both.

S: It was a little bit of both.

F: Yeah!

J: A little column A, a little column B.

S: "Guitar is a little too hard to learn, here's a keyboard."

J: Right. And I was already playing bass. And that's what it was. We pulled a keyboard out from under the bed and said, "Learn how to play this and you can be in the band." Because we just wanted to keep hanging out with you. And that was it, you know, that's the real origin story of how Pencey Prep started. We just wanted to hang out more with Shaun.

F: This is true. Yeah! Here's the moral of it: is that we continuously manufacture things so that we can hang out with you, Shaun.

J: Like this podcast!

F: Yeah! That's just an ongoing thing. 20 years later, Hambone bought a bunch of mics.

S: Right, right!

F: Just to lure you to our house to hang out.

J: Because breakfast wasn't enough sometimes. I had to take it up a notch, recording you right now.

F: Yes, exactly. Goddamn it.

J: I mean, that's what it is. You look at a band like The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, right? Like, what does Ben Carr really do? Well, apparently Ben Carr is a tour manager and he runs the whole day to day operations of the band. But back in the day, they just wanted to hang out with their buddy, they wanted something for him to do, so they said, "Well, just dance onstage."

S: Oh, that's right!

J: You should be happy, Shaun. We didn't make you dance.

S: Yeah, I wouldn't have done that anyway. We would've had to say our goodbyes back then.

F: Well, even early Pencey shows, there was a lot of playing verses- no, playing choruses! And then during the verses you would just smoke. Just smoke onstage.

S: So I was like, "Here's this dude, he's gonna stand there and look cool, smoking a cigarette."

F: Right, yeah. It was very Velvet Underground.

J: And you wouldn't even face the crowd either. You know, the whole band is going at it with the crowd, you were just turned sideways and just staring at whatever wall was in your direction on stage left, and just... smoking.

F: Judging. Just judging everyone. Yes!

J: Light it up during the verse, fly in for the chorus, Shaun Simon.

F: There it is! I mean, it worked.

J: That's what you did.

F: It did!

S: It worked.

F: That was a fun band to be in.

J: That was a fun band.

S: You know what's weird about that band? It feels like we were a band so much longer than we actually were. It wasn't that long, right?

F: You know what I think? I think that Pencey wasn't long. The time period after when we were doing I Am A Graveyard, that was longer.

S: Was that longer?

F: I think so.

S: Because we only had like 3 songs, didn't we?

F: Like 4 or 5. But I think that was the other thing too, we just liked hanging out so much that-

J: We didn't wanna stop.

F: We didn't wanna stop, yeah.

J: I feel like it was about a year and a half leading up to us getting ready to record the record. Then we recorded the record, we went on that one ill-fated tour across America, and then we just kinda restructured the band when Tim left.

F: Yeah.

S: No, actually we restructured the band and then we did I Am A Graveyard, and then Tim left.

J: Then Tim left. Then that was the end of the band.

S: Then Frank joined My Chem.

J: Yeah, I mean it was a really great time. The thing about that is to me , I look back on the record kinda cringing-ly. Because I just can't listen to it, it's really hard to get through. And it's funny when I look at kids who were our age, recording now and the kinda stuff they're doing. And granted, I know technology is very different, but the idea of our playing ability at 19, 20, 21, versus a kid who's 19, 20, 21 now's playing ability, it's like night and day.

F: Oh my god. Oh, I know.

J: It's like, god bless that it happened before the internet and nobody caught on that we stunk. We were tight! We were a good band but we were like the high school band and everyone else is doing laps around us.

F: I feel like that's the thing too is like, now you see these young kids, 11 and 12, going on YouTube and learning how to play, and really giving it their all. It's insane! I would just listen to records and smoke pot in my room and try to figure stuff out. And I don't know, there wasn't that outlet to get better. You actually had to go and take lessons from somebody. And it was like, "Fuck that."

J: And taking lessons sucked.

F: I know.

J: I mean I'm not shitting on anyone who does take lessons.

F: No, no!

J: But when I was a kid I was like, "Dude. I don't wanna take lessons, I just wanna go out and do this." However, I realize now that it takes a lot of effort to make something look effortless.

F: Yeah!

J: And I also look back at that record fondly because where I am today, kinda where we all are today, is because of that record. Like, the friends that I have and the family I have in my life, I met all because I was in the music scene. I think we all did, right? We all did.

S: Everything kind of originated from that band.

J: My friend Carrie hit me up from Tennessee the other day and she was like, you know, talking about the Pencey Prep record. And I was about to just shit all over it because it's- well it's hard for me to go back and listen to. But she gave me the perspective and she said, "Hey, because of that record, because you were in that band, we met. And because of that, your other friends have met and now they have families and they're all together because we were all kind of in that same place at the same time." I have a profound sense of gratitude for the record. I just can't listen to it.

F: I wouldn't change anything, because everything ended up the way it did. That's wonderful. But if I could Doc Brown it, and just tweak little things here and there, I'd definitely- there's a lot that I would tweak.

S: Yeah, if someone played to a click track.

F: Well, click- click would help!

J: Lots of auto-tuning.

F: But that's- yeah! I mean that's the thing. There are certain things that you listen back and it's cringy, but that's because you were a fucking teenager! It's supposed to be.

J: Right, and it was a very different thing being a teenager when we were teenagers, and being a teenager now.

F: Yeah.

J: Night and day.

F: I totally agree.

J: I would not survive as a teenager now.

F: No! Fuck no! I'd be naked on the internet somewhere.

J: Somewhere.

F: It would ruin my goddamn life! Totally. Doing some dumb shit.

J: Yeah, absolutely.

F: We had VHS recorders. Destroy that shit.

J: Yeah, absolutely. My friend George Bungle lores over my head that he definitely has pictures of me when I was wearing eyeliner and flat ironing my hair, and I was like, "Please!" I was like, "George, just let me find a wife first, because it'll be harder for her to leave me once those pictures come out. There would be lawyers involved."

F: Yikes. Yeah. Well, that's the thing too, is like, I do have minor interactions on social media. Just like, through Twitter and Instagram, stuff like that. Facebook is an animal that I can't understand so I just decide not to use it.

J: It's all racist

F: Is it really?! Jesus!

J: Facebook is where you go to figure out which of your friends have actually been racist this entire time.

F: Oh my god! Ugh.

J: Yeah, just stay off it.

F: That sounds terrible.

J: It's pretty bad.

F: So anyway, I'm not going on Facebook then. But people will send like, pictures of like, a moment in time, just this fucking split second moment in time, but, "Explain this." I'm like, "Motherfucker!

S: What do you mean?

F: Yeah, exactly! "What are you talking about?" You have to explain every goddamn moment of your life that's been captured in some sort of video clip or like still, or photo, like- So you'll see some questionable hairstyles, or styles of things. And certain things maybe made sense in a moment because you were making fun of something, but when it gets taken out of context, it makes no sense. But my response usually is like, "Alright, yeah, that may have been questionable, but I will show you 100,000 people that are wearing their hair like that still, right now, because I did that."

J: Absolutely! Absolutely.

S: What? Are they talking about your dreadlocks?

F: Oh, that's one!

J: That's one!

S: Is that one of them? Remember when we cut those off?

F: Yeah!

S: Threw them out the hotel window-

F: In Chicago!

J: Chicago, yeah!

F: Yeah, we planted them.

J: I mean, they're technically biodegradable, right?

S: Yeah.

F: No!

S: I don't know about that.

J: Oh, no, they're not!

F: No. Those are bad for the environment. That's why Chicago is the way it is. Because we threw them out the window.

J: Frank's old dreadlocks. I'm sure there's a tree growing where you threw that dreadlock outside of the hotel where I'm staying at next week.

F: I don't know if you remember this, though. That started out of a joke because we're all in the back of this van, and we were talking about the music that Tim liked, which he was really into nu-metal and weird shit.

J: Oh my god, yeah, I remember.

F: And I started tying knots in my hair, and they turned into that, and we put like, crazy glue in it

S: Ew.

F: And that's how it started. And then it just got real nasty.

J: I wonder if people like, because you know everyone like, lives on their phone now, like the distraction in the back of the van. I don't think a band would ever do that now because they're gonna be so distracted being on social media. Whereas, to pass the time you guys were really busy throwing my Thin Lizzy CDs out the window and gluing your hair together!

F: Oh man!

J: You left the case, though, which I always thought was funny.

F: Did we leave the case?

J: You did leave the case.

S: Why- who threw your CDs out?

F: It was a tape, it was a tape. I think-

S: Why did we decide that was a good idea?

J: How many times can you hear "Jailbreak" on the same tour?

F: That! Yeah, it was like, "The boys are not back in town. we have to stop." It just got to be too much.

J: It was the first intervention of many.

F: Alright, here's another thing about origin stories. I remember this like it was fucking yesterday, and Shaun will vouch for this. Those early My Chem tours in the van where you would have to bring these billfolds of CDs.

S: Oh, absolutely.

F: That was like 100 pounds of CDs that you were bringing with you every tour, to just pass the time, stuff like that. It was fucking horrible! Everything would be scratched and destroyed by the time you got back.

S: Start it all over.

J: Oh yeah, absolutely. Because every bump in the road-

F: Oh my god!

J: It's the same thing when we used to drive around. So we had a van, a yellow school bus van, that I bought for like 800 bucks. The thing was the drizzling shits. It was a terrible, terrible van, but we needed a van to go on tour, and all we wanted to do was tour, so we went and I got the van and we got it fixed up. And the very first night of tour, we were playing at the Loop Lounge for our tour kickoff party. And as we were driving the van to the rehearsal space to go and pick up the gear, I bumped into a curb, the timing belt jumped, and we almost missed the first day of the tour. And it was all downhill from there because this van also, the anti-freeze hose popped, and destroyed the van's on-board computer so we got stuck in Minnesota.

F: Can we dive into that story a little bit more? Because that was the whole reason of the tour, was this one show that we got booked. Was it with Les Savy Fav? J: It was Les Savy Fav at the 7th Street Entry in Minneapolis. So the 7th Street Entry is the smaller part of the First Ave. which one of the biggest and most famous rock clubs in America. You've seen it in Prince's "Purple Rain," and the whole point of the tour was that we got this gig at the 7th Street Entry with Les Savy Fav, and we were traveling out there to go and do this show. Now on the way, besides the timing belt jumping, we had a problem with the seal on the gas tank, so we could only ever fill the tank up-

F: This is true, I remember!

S: That's right!

J: We could only ever fill the tank up three-quarters of the way, so that was the second problem.

F: But you kinda didn't know how far you were going. You just thought, "Alright, that's three-quarters of a tank," and then it would seep in and you would smell gas all day.

J: And we would smell gasoline.

S: And wasn't it like, we were nervous about flicking cigarettes out the windows?

F: Yes! But it didn't stop us.

S: We just kept smoking.

J: No, and I remember going and getting that fixed, getting the seal fixed, and just sitting there, and the guy was literally- he had the van up and he's underneath it and he's smoking a cigarette and he's checking it, and I'm like, "This is how I die! This is officially how it ends for me." Thankfully, it didn't. So, take us back. Frank, we were driving to Minneapolis.

F: Driving to Minneapolis. This was the show, man. This is it, we were gonna make it. This is the like our big show! And so we stop off in Minnesota, right?

J: Right.

F: And we're like, "Alright, we're gonna get a good night's sleep. The next day, we're driving to this show, we're gonna play the biggest show of our band's career. We're gonna have our CD. It's gonna be great. We're gonna do this." So we head out and I think it was maybe 2 hours into a 3 hour drive, and the van was like, "No, you're not." Because it just like- you ever see like, in a horror movie where like, someone cuts a stomach and just the bowels fall out? That's how- everything. Like, the poor girl just fucking disemboweled on the highway.

J: So the hose popped-

F: Blood. Car blood!

J: Anti-freeze everywhere! And now I know what hot anti-freeze smells like. It smells like hot maple syrup.

F: Yeah.

J: So we pull over to the side of the road. Thankfully, there was a Ford dealership literally 1,000 feet where we were at the top of the hill. So we got them to tow us there. It cost $666.34 to repair, which I called my dad. I was like, "Dad, please! Please, let me use your credit card, we're stuck out here!" And he did. Like, my father has-

F: The greatest.

J: -always been so supportive of the music that I've played, the music Frank's played. So he came and he gave his credit card number over the phone to this car dealership outside of Minneapolis, and we never made the show.

F: Uh uh.

J: We didn't play the show.

F: Did not play the show. Did not pay him back either. Fucked up! Sorry. Oh shit.

J: He just put it on my tab. It's like, "How many times you drop out of college, John?" And just add it up, you know. So I mean, so that was the first Pencey Prep tour. You know we played- our friend, Neil, who was in the band, he booked the tour, and this is back when e-mail is just new. Like, you know, there is internet, but people have like Juno and AOL. There's no high speed internet, you know. You used to call CBGB's to get a gig, they didn't have an e-mail address. You'd have to call at like Tuesday or Thursday between these hours and if you did not call during those times, or you couldn't get someone on the phone, you weren't getting booked to CBGB's. So, this is so many years ago! Like you think about it, this was 2000! This is almost 20 years.

F: Was it 2000? Or was it 99?

J: Oh, maybe it was 99 at that point, yeah! I mean, you know, you and I have been friends- I graduated in 97, I met you in 1995. And then I met you a few years later so-

S: Hm...

J: Yeah, 99.

S: 99, yeah maybe.

J: 99 was the first Pencey- the first and only Pencey tour.

F: Right!

J: So you know, we made the towns, we played the clubs, then the van had another problem where we got to, I think, Missouri of all places, and had to fix the gas tank again. And we were at a point, our last show of the tour was Columbus, Ohio in this basement. I forget the name of the club but it was a basement club and the guy stiffed up for money, because he's like, "Well I'm not gonna pay you guys, you didn't bring anybody.” It's like, "Well, we're from fucking New Jersey!" So we gunned it all the way home, we would not turn the engine off because we were afraid it wasn't gonna turn back on. Do you remember the CD that was stuck in the CD player that we had to listen to the entire 10 and a half hour ride home?

F: No.

S: No.

J: "Stay What You Are" by Saves the Day.

F: Oh god! So bleak!

J: It got stuck in the CD player, because everything was going on, why wouldn't that go wrong?

F: Well, that's the thing. That's a great record, but like, to listen to over and over again on our- already being depressed. Fuck!

J: Yeah, we got our asses kicked on that first tour, you know? A little while after that, Neil wasn't in the band anymore. And then a little while after that, we became I Am A Graveyard, and we did a couple years of that, still slugging along, and then the rest is history for Frank.

F: For everybody!

J: Yeah.

F: You guys did The Hostage after that, too.

J: We did do The Hostage for a little while. The Hostage, I think, we lasted maybe 6-7 months.

S: I think we played, like, 3 shows.

J: We played 3 really awesome shows.

S: Really, yeah, really good shows.

J: We had a good buzz about us, but the other guys in the band were dicks. You know what, I take that back. Dan wasn't a dick, Paul wasn't a dick, it was the other guy that was a dick.

S: Yeah.

J: So... He got a little too big for his britches and the band had to break up.

S: Well the problem with Dan, he... I remember, I think I was talking to you, and you with My Chem, you were like, "Yeah, why don't you guys come out and open for us?" You remember that?

J: Yeah.

S: In like Pittsburgh, or something like that. And then Dan was like, "Oh, I have to work because I have to pay my car lease," or something.

J: Yeah, yeah.

S: And it was like, "Dude, where's your fucking drive to do this?"

J: The thing about being in bands and the things about doing any kind of like, artistry, or any kind of like, going into business for yourself, takes sacrifice.

F: It does.

J: Putting the time and effort into doing something that's outside of working 9-5, it takes hard work. Like, you could either make that decision to work 9-5 for someone else, or you work 18 hours for yourself.

F: My dad and my grandfather were musicians and they played all the time, and it wasn't always something they did full time, for a living. It was something they could do- you know, they had to have another job to support. But my dad would always tell me like, you know, "There's music and then there's a music business, and one, very often, has nothing to do with the other."

J: Absolutely.

F: And the thing about, you know, music- the business side of it is so cutthroat and unforgiving at times.

J: Right.

F: And there's no justice in it. Some of the best players are still looking for a fucking gig.

J: Absolutely!

F: You could have a degree that you spent thousands and thousands of dollars on, and years and years of your life trying to obtain, and you can't get a fucking job.

J: Right.

S: Yeah.

F: So it would behoove you to have a safety net, or like, a real job so that you can, you know, afford to do these things. But very often, that's not conducive to this life. Know what I mean?

J: Right.

F: So you kinda have to throw caution to the wind and say, "Fuck it. I'm gonna sleep on a bench if I have to, to do this kinda thing," and that's not the smartest thing I know.

J: Yeah, it's definitely not the smartest thing, and I'd never like-

F: It's not easy either.

J: I'd never begrudge Dan, uh, for doing that-

F: No!

J: The thing is, you know, where we- how we grew up, you have to go to college, you have to get a job, you have to do this, you have to be responsible. And not everyone is ready to go off and join the circus.

S: I just felt like with The Hostage especially, that you know, me and you, Hambone, were on the same page with that. And I felt other people weren't.

J: Oh, definitely not.

S: You know what I mean? I feel like me and you were ready to go, if go was a thing that happened.

J: Right.

S: And the others were like, you know, "I still have to do this so I have to work around my fucking flat tire on my fucking Mom's car."

F: It's very easy to say, "Hey, yeah, I'm down for the cause." It's another thing to do it.

J: Yeah, absolutely.

F: That's the scary part.

J: In the words of Jim Teacher, "Everyone wants to rock and roll, no one wants to pay the price."

F: This is true, man. If it were easy, everybody would do it, right?

J: Absolutely. Absolutely.

F: Fuck! But that's the thing, too, is- you know, the shitty thing is that- even if you have the talent and you have the heart and you take the risk, you still gotta have the luck. It's like, "Motherfucker!" It's like this perfect- it's like winning the lottery!

J: It is.

F: It doesn't make any goddamn sense.

J: For me, I didn't have the luck. My luck took me in very different directions and I'd never change anything about it, I'm super super grateful for it. You know, however, I hit a point where I was in my early 30s and I was like, "Shit, I kinda need to get like, a job job, and make some money because I got nothing." And that was cool, it was alright, because I have a work ethic. When you're a person who's passionate about their art and what they create, you know, whether it's Shaun's writing, Frank's writing music, I'm producing podcasts now, you always have that reason to get up in the morning and kick yourself in the ass and go take care of business. So I was able to go find a crazy job that if I told you what I did for a living, I'd have to kill you. Uh, made a bunch of money, and then I was able to kinda come back to the thing that I love the most, which is playing music, and being creative. Sometimes you just have to take a knee and reassess your situation. Redefine your ideas of success.

F: Yeah! Absolutely.

J: You know? So, I mean, I got my happy ending.

S: There it is!

F: There it is!

J: So do you guys have any final thoughts on the origin story?

F: Oh man!

S: I feel like we didn't cover a lot.

F: Yeah! We could probably keep going on the origin story, I think, for a couple- maybe we could take a break and then do another episode of origins.

J: Alright, so what we're gonna do is, we're gonna wrap this episode up. This'll be Origins-

F: Origins 1A!

J: Origin 1. This is part 1 of the origin story. Yeah, this is just the story of Pencey Prep and friendship, and next will be the story of Pencey Prep and Friendship: The Dark Knight Rises. So, you know, we'll find some catchy subtitle for it. Frank, where can people find you?

F: I live- New Jersey.

S: Don't give them your address!

F: I use Instagram. I have an Instagram called frankieromustdie, I have a Twitter that's @frankiero, and I have a website I guess, frank-iero.com. Because somebody had frankiero.com.

J: How rude!

F: Yeah!

S: Is that why there's no A in it?

F: Oh, what's that?

S: Isn't that- don't you do something where there's no A in your name?

F: I was- yeah, I was doing that for a while, too. So I could at least cut through some of the fakers. It's like faker He-Man, dude. Somebody has frankiero.com, I don't know who it is. I think, I don't know if there's like, I think there's companies that like, go out and buy, just domain names and then try to like, hold them ransom.

J: Absolutely. Absolutely. I mean I'm shocked that I got hamfistedproductions.com.

F: Dude.

J: I'm shocked that we got casualinteractions.com!

S: Do we have that?

J: Oh yeah!

S: The website?

J: Oh, I got it.

F: Oh, nice! See?

S: Oh shit! Look at you, man!

J: I'm proactive.

F: Now, here's the thing! You could use that for this.

J: Yeah.

F: Right? And it'd be alright. Or you could start like, a weird porno hooker thing and make a lot of money.

J: Oh no, that's why we're sitting on it.

F: Right, right!

J: I'm gonna wait until someone wants to pay us. When the money comes rolling in, we're splitting it three ways, we're going to Cabo! Shaun, where can people find you?

S: I don't use anything. I have Twitter, @shaunsimon.

F: You have a Twitter?

J: You do have a Twitter.

S: I have Twitter.

F: Oh, alright. I'll check it out.

J: He's been known to tweet. What do you have in stores right now?

S: What do I have in stores?

J: Yeah, what books out right now?

S: Oh, nothing! I just- one of my books just was announced a few months ago called Wizard Beach. It's coming out in December, I believe.

J: Alright, very cool.

S: It's a comic book. Not a prose book, so.

J: Maybe one day, you'll write some prose.

S: We'll see what happens.

J: Well, when this episode drops, Wizard Beach will probably be right around the corner so definitely check out Wizard Beach at your local comic book store.

F: Wait, if you write a prose book can you title it "Every Prose Has Its Thorn"?

J: Yes!

F: So good.

J: You can find me at- you can check out my other podcast. It's The Vintage RPG Podcast, it's a gaming podcast. We talk about Dungeons & Dragons and other RPG games. You could also find me at maitaitv.com, for my punk rock Tiki podcast Mai Tai Happy Hour.

So, for Shaun Simon and Frank Iero, I'm John "Hambone" McGuire. Join us next month for another episode of Casual Interactions. Until then, hold onto your friends.

#frank iero #hambone #shaun simon #casual interactions #1 #casual interactions 1 #full transcription

76 notes · View notes

shikanaradai · 6 years ago

Text

Thank you for the tag @shikamarubase

Rules: Answer all questions and tag 20 people

Star Sign: Aries

Height: 5′3″

Gender: Female

Birthday: April 1st (Legit🤣)

Relationship status: Single

Who is your crush: None… Gladion and Shikamaru 🙈

Song that is stuck in your head: Voice for you - ShikaTema’s VAs

Last movie: The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Last TV show: Is Hell’s Kitchen one? I like hearing Gordon flipping out

Why did you create this blog: First it was to get updates on the Naruto anime and stuff like that. Never really wanted to post stuff about the anime but somehow I got started and here I am, stalking for more Naruto blogs 😂

What do you post / reblog: Something I find really funny about the Nara fam (And baby Shikadai, we need more of those, y’all)

Last thing you googled: “benzine” Don’t ask, I just turned in my final Biology project. Got Chemistry project due soon 😭

Favorite song lyric: Don’t have one… 🙃 I mainly listen to Naruto/Boruto OPS (I’m such a weeb 😂)

What are you wearing: Sleepwear (I literally just woke up and saw this tag 😂 No first class today so I get an extra 2 hours of sleep 🎉)

Dream job: I just want to work with animals

Currently reading: Hahahah, what is even reading 🤣 (If manga counts, I’m reading mha, 7 deadly sins, Boruto, Conan, and Diamond no Ace II)

Top 3 universes: Pokemon, Boku no Hero Academia, Naruto

Last time I cried and why: Real personal on this one… Got a mental break down just few days ago from stress. I cry when stress (Not good for mental health…)

A picture of me: I look like my twin sister… Go find it 😉

Ideas of a perfect date: Don’t care for dates. I’m not interested in them 🤣

A fact about my life: I don’t swear and cuss while my twin sister swears like a sailor ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ One of my friends said “You’re not a normal”

What’s one thing you regret: Not really dedicating myself to learning a new laguage (I gave up on learning both Korean and Japanese after 2 months)

First celebrity you think of when someone says attractive: Pffft, why celebrity when you can think of a star? Shikadai obviously 😎

Have you ever taken a picture naked: no

Have you ever had a crush: Never

Have you ever been in a fist fight: Yeah (Got into one with a boy at my school. He started it first but I got the sweet revenge in our Taekwondo class later… I accidentally kicked him in the nuts cuz he didn’t dodge it properly 🤣🤣🤣)

Have you ever snuck out of your house: Hahaha, I’ll die before even I got my foot out

Have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back: No…?

Have you ever ditched school to do something more fun: Never, I’m a good kid 😎

Have you ever been on a plane: Ye

Have you ever kissed a picture: No xd

Have you ever touched a snake: I think I have…? 🤔 but sure 🤣

Have you ever felt like dying: Nah, I rather drown myself in Nara goodness

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t: No

Phobia: Clastrophobia

Middle name: Y’all can never pronounce it :))))

Are you a virgin: Um yes…

What’s your sexual orientation: Never thought about it. Don’t really like being in relationships.

Do you smoke, drink, or take any drugs: Over my dead body

Someone you miss: My family, I live halfway across the world from them. Only me, mom and my sister are here in Denmark ☹️

Favorite ice cream: Cookie n’ Cream!!!

One insecurity: Have tons but can’t think of one right now on top of my head

What my last text message says: "Có nhx bài j? E còn chưa nộp applications đây" Basically means “what work do you have? I haven’t even submitted my applications yet” Just asking a friend what she does in A Levels since I’m doing IB… We’re applying for uni atm ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Have you ever painted your room: Does drawing on it when I was a toddler count?

Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex: no

Have you ever slept naked: no

Have you ever been dumped: no

Have you ever stole money from a friend: no

Have you ever gotten in a car with people you just met: no

Have you ever been arrested: no

Have you ever made out with a stranger: no

Have you ever met up with a member of the opposite sex somewhere: Yeah, my friends and I always hang at her house to play with her cat :D

Have you ever left your house without telling your parents: no

Have you ever had a crush on your neighbor: no

Have you ever slept in a bed with a member of the same sex: My mom, my sister and my cousin :] My friends as well (I miss sleepovers 😂)

Have you ever seen someone die: Yes… My great grandmother died around her family members. I was 13 and it left a huge mental scar

Favorite Harry Potter spell: I don’t want Harry Potter 🙃 Don’t kill me

Have you ever hated the way you look: Yeah, I share the same look as my sister (I’m the older one hehe)

Have you ever witnessed a crime: No but I saw a few motorcycle crashes in my life (smh, stupid drivers. They didn’t signal)

Have you ever pole danced: tf is that? 🙃

Have you ever been lost: Yeah, even with google map ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Have you ever been to the opposite side of the country: Kinda but not really…? It’s too hot down there 😂

20 people to tags… Aight then… :)

@narutostuff101 @myseashellblog @narutogt @midorichan12 @whattadragg@xmonday-mintx @miss-akimichi @shikatemalove1 @sehuntema and other people who wants to do it :)

#personal post #sorry for repost #my tumblr got weird and my post got messy

13 notes · View notes

alliesweetsong · 7 years ago

Text

Peer Pressure Pt. 2

(Continued RP from Here)

“Remember that stress doesn't come from what's going on in your life. It comes from your thoughts about what's going on in your life.” -Andrew J. Bernstein (Warning long post, but worth it!)

Alyssa lifts a hand and offers a wave at the Rendorei “Evenin Allie. ‘Ow you ‘olding up?” she asks in a curious manner.

There it was again. The question that could be answered truthfully or lied about. Her mind races for a brief instant as she thinks about how to go about answering the question. “Well enough I suppose, a bit worried if I’m being honest. But before that, I thought I should warn you Gareth should be coming to see you about the engagement rings.” she says warmly. Remembering she is a jeweler she had discussed this Gareth and thought it would be neat to get the rings made by a friend.

Alyssa lifts an eyebrow. "Worried? What about?" The concerned look settles into an easy smile though. "Thanks f'the warnin'. I'll be ready t'do the work. More than 'appy to for the two o'you."

Allie smiles warmly and nods. It was nice to know she could give the younger ward some piece of mind. The woman had been through a decent amount herself recently and wanted to help ease some of her own stress if she could. “"I need to talk to you about Raen. What can you tell me about her? Any friends outside of myself, you or Damien? She isn't answering her comm, i sent her a letter and no response from either way. She moved out of her room in a haste and she quit and the pig and whistle..I am concerned for her safety Nobody has seen her since Damien was taken."

Alyssa sighs softly at that, settling back against the stonework and crossing her arms averting her hazel eyed gaze downwards. "Really? Fuck me I should've kept my 'ounds on 'er. I dropped everythin' once we found Damien. They tracked 'er as far as Raven 'ill. Can't much count me as a friend in this, if I was I'd 'ave done more. M'not the kind of friend she needs.”

Allie blinks in shock at the revelation that Alyssa knows someone that also knows Raen. "Does this friend have a name? I am starting my own investigation, I can't rest until I know she’s okay Alyssa.”

Allie bites her lip and shakes her head inhaling through her nose. She disliked the fact that someone thought they were not good enough. "Oh dear don't say that, she needs all the friends she can get. Any information you can give me helps. did you ever see her with anybody else? I know she did some drugs."

Alyssa maintains her posture on the stonework, lightly shifting her weight she looks at the Rendorei slowly She and I 'ave a mutual friend. 'e 'asn't seen 'er either though.”

From there the two went back and forth, Allie pushing hard for information and the Gilnean dancing around the question as delicately as humanly possible. Not getting the hint, Allie pushed and pushed. Her questions were deliberate if not a bit forced but also nearing desperation. There was a link, and she wanted to know who it was.

Alyssa thinks about it for a moment as a small twitch develops on the corner of her mouth "No." She offers finally. "F'both your sakes. F'everyone's. You'll just 'ave t'trust me on that."

Allie lightly recoils her head blinking in both shock and horror. Why is she denying her the name? "Alyssa, you can come with me to meet him if that is what you want. Nothing will happen, I just have some questions, please. Raen is a friend of mine. I need to know she’s okay."

“I 'ear you, and I agree. I want t'know she's okay too. Not the person you need.” Alyssa replies looking at Allie in a matter-of-fact manner.

Allie felt her heart plummet and her blood boiling, she didn’t have time for games. The high elf could be hurt, she could be getting tortured as they spoke. The very thought caused the rendorei to become nauseous.

Alyssa studies the woman across from her, smile fading a bit. “I know this is important t'you, y'can think what you want of me. M'not givin' the name."

“Open the fel wielder up, her secrets will spill on the floor”

"Yes this is important to me!” Allie says starting to raise her voice, the frustration was clearly evident. “She is one of the only people I have to connect with from home. and she is a friend. I would do the same for you or Damien." She says before rubbing her forehead and exhaling softly "You of all people should understand what it is like to miss home." Allie regretted saying that last part almost instantly, that was a cheap shot at the younger ward and she knew it. But she really needed the Gilnean to understand how serious she was even if it meant getting a demon summoned on her.

Alyssa glares daggers at the void elf. That clearly was the wrong thing to say. "That's low. My 'ome doesn't exist anymore. And I 'aven't got your thousand or whatever years t'see it rebuilt or reclaimed." she scowls

Allie bites her lip and puts one hand on her head and the other on her hip letting out a sigh "I am sorry Alyssa..that was wrong of me" she says before shaking her head "I will not stop until she’s found. You are both my friends. I just want to help her I am scared Alyssa. I can't lose anybody else.” she says softly lowering her voice

Alyssa runs fingers through her red hair trying to calm herself as well "Look. I can't give you the name. There are so so many reasons I can't. M'sorry. You will find 'er though, chasin' a dead end lead isn't goin' to make that 'appen."

Allie looks down absolutley heartbroken, never before had she had the feeling of complete and utter helplessness. Biting her lip the void elf nods and shrugs "Thanks Alyssa. Ill uh, keep looking. Gareth should be here tomorrow or tonight I am not sure." she says walking forward to give the woman a hug

The Gilnean embraces Allie in return, frustrated and a bit upset. "M'a disappointin' friend Allie. Don't 'ang your 'opes on me. M'always 'ere t'talk, but m'secrets run too deep f'most to deal with."

Allie lets go of the hug and cups the red heads cheek with her right hand lightly caressing it with her thumb "I have secrets to darling." she says before looking around as if she was about to do something. Refocusing she nods "Ill uh, see if I can find anything." she says softly

Surprised by such a familiar gesture, Alyssa nods remaining still has she looks into the elf’s skye blue eyes. "Allie. M'just not willin' t'pay the personal cost givin' you that information. M'sorry again."

Allie backs up as something about the way Alyssa worded that seemed off. Slightly tilting her head to the side the Rendorei folds her arms across the chest. “Is someone threatening to hurt you?” she asks in a curious but very serious manner.

Alyssa bites her lip hard, hard enough in fact that a red blossom can be seen as she carefully considers the question being asked of her. After a long pauses she finally shakes her head “No. Not like that.”

“Then what Alyssa? I promised Damien i would watch over you. What is going on?” Allie replies looking at the Gilnean in a pleading manner.

The statement gets a raised eyebrow from the redheaded warlock. "Did you? Gods below but that brother o'mine is protective. It's delicate. This is a situation I need t'andle m'self. M'not in any danger at the moment though."

Allie looks around and slowly stats backing up towards the door “Come, lets talk.” she says making sure they both weren’t being watch. Something seemed off and she intended to find out.

Alyssa frowns briefly and follows. Although she looked ready to protest she doesn’t and instead lets out a sigh and keeps pace with the Ren’dorei

Sitting down Allie gets comfortable and the two level with each other, Each one telling a dark secret that nobody would know, or could ever know. There was too much in both of their lives for these to ever see the light of day. Of course they debated, and argued, talked and finally argued some more. Each one wanting the same thing but wanted to go about it in different ways. Finally Allie blurts out a question that she think she already knew the answer to, the thought of causing her heart to jump out of her chest. As she began to listen to Alyssa explain her plans the rendorei began pacing around warlock in a focused manner.

"Damien told me there was one man, and one woman. and the woman was shot and killed.." she says looking at the back of Alyssa's head "The day after I came home, He told me the man said if he comes back he would kill everybody”

“'e won't 'ave the chance.” came the almost immediate reply back from Alyssa

Allie growls at that beginning to lose her cool. "Damnit Alyssa, if you know who did this we can protect you, what if Raen is already dead!?"

Alyssa stares at the elf in a stubborn fashion this entire conversation was beginning to become pointless. “ 'e's mine. I've already paid dearly, morally and emotionally t'get that. When I 'ave my 'ands on 'im, y'can be certain 'e'll tell me where Raen is” she says in a defiant manner

Allie shakes her head and bites her lip as she moves to pick up her belongings. “I just hope its not too late for her Alyssa.” she says as she heads to the door “Shadows Raen, where are you?” she asks looking up at the ceiling in an exasperated manner. Letting out a sigh she looks over her shoulder at the Gilnean “The day you do it, I want to be there. Let me have atleast that.” she says softly clearly upset at this point.

Alyssa bites her lip once more and looks at Allie “I’ll think about it.” she says softly.

That wasn’t good enough. Allie wanted to say more, to threaten her and to exploit her. To treat her as she had been treated off and on for the last several months. But to do so would mean to betray the warlocks trust, and their friendship and to abandon her promise to be loyal. Nodding instead, Allie grabs the doorknob “Have a good night dear, hope we talk soon.” she says before slowly opening the door. Walking out she could fel the tears falling down her cheek as she slowly closes the door with a soft click. She needed to get somewhere and just cry. Gareth couldn’t see her like that. Serelia, nobody. She had once again, failed someone she looked at as a friend.

Letting her feet carry her over the bridge thoughts raced through her head as she wipes her eyes

“Hello Mrs. Gareth Lyons.” Came the familiar voice of Sikona.

Stopping Allie inhales through her noise and forces the brightest smile she could on her face. “Hello Miss Emberlight.”

To be Continued...

@alyssa-ward @dardillien-ward @earendelduskmourn for mentions @thetobaccoman for vague mentions and relevance @sikonaluvs at the end <3

#Allie Sweetsong #Raens Arc #IC #WRA #rp #wow

11 notes · View notes

sillyfudgemonkeys · 7 years ago

Note

What's your favorite and least favorite persona battle theme?

Only including Mainline Persona games and their remakes and PQ. Not including Fighting/Dance games, the anime/movies, or P5′s DLC (I’ll have you know that I have the dancing one equip tho, both cause I like Anne and MC’s costumes and cause I like the song, even if that version of the song is slow to the hook).

Side note: these are listed mostly in order of series rather than which I like most of the favs, cause it really depends on the mood a lot of the songs are really good but have their own feel so depending on the situation I might want to listen to one instead of the other.

Regular battle theme:

Fav: Mass Destruction (any ver), Wiping All Out, and Reach Out To The Truth (I like how both P3′s are just “we’re gonna annihilate them” and we do and fits the mood of exploring a kill or be killed dungeon, and I like how P4 sticks to its theme)

Least Fav: Time to Make History.....sigh.....do I really have to explain it?

Side note: Both ver Light the Fire Up in the Night get honorable mention (I prefer the female singer on the P4 ver and the rapping on the P3 ver tho). I like Last Surprise a lot, but the hook comes in too late for me. And not a fan of Life Will Change, well like...I’m not a fan of how it overrides LS or any DLC song, LWC gets you pumped but....eh.....only really pumps me up for some of the bosses (1, 6, and maybe 7) the rest I feel like I’m going through the motions and rather have a different song.

Boss Battle (regular/bonus/special bosses) Theme:

Fav: Knights of the Holy Lance (any ver), Additional Boss Battle (P2EP PSP), Danger Zone, I’ll Face Myself, Disturbances - The One Called from Beyond

Least Fav: Will Power and Blooming Villain

Side note: “what no rivers in the desert?!” I do like that one, but tbh it feels like they overused it....esp since it was supposed to be a one boss battle song?? AND NOT the final boss????(kinda restarting each phase with Shido, and then again for the Holy Grail....like? Really? Couldn’t give the Holy Grail it’s own theme? Well I shouldn’t be surprised since you shoved Beneath the Mask down my throat with it’s overplay so whatever >.>)

Final Boss battle Theme:

Fav: Burn My Dread -last battle-, The Genesis, The Infinite. (BMD-lb- is a great call back to the OP, Genesis has the despair that wears you down and then that uplifting melody with the orchestra oh my god so beautiful, and then Infinite iirc had a nice melody that rang a similar tune to P3 and P4).

Least Fav: Both phases of Jaldabaoth, yes even the uplifting phase 2 portion, (never liked P5′s melody, at least I think that’s what it was in phase 2, cause tbh....it’s....not the most consistent melody nor is it very good imo). But I like the 2nd phase more than the 1st.

I just.....really hate P5′s OST ok? I hate it’s melody (tbh I feel like it has like.....more than one melody, but they’re pretty forgettable regardless), all the slow acid jazz all sounds the same, even some of the rock boss battles do too. P5 has the most tracks to work with, it has twice or three times as P3/4 had, and yet it still sounds like they’re only using 2/3 songs all the time. And I know all those tracks didn’t go to the dungeons, and it’s not like they’re all really good on their own (Sae’s is the only one that really stands out and felt like there was effort put into it, the rest feel like general dungeon music), and this also doesn’t include Mementos (which is a whole other just....god what were they thinking). Say what you want about Tartarus and the TV World. Sure they might not have all been amazing, but Tartarus at least slowly evolved as you went up (and if you didn’t care then ask Fuuka to change the tunes then), and the TV World were all different from each other, might’ve only been one song but they were all different and all planted themselves firmly into my brain. Yeah Palaces were all different from each other, but tbh I barely recall when they changed songs within the dungeon, and the Mementos had one freaking song and didn’t even evolve like Tartarus did (Mementos is a poor man’s Tartarus fight me).

Like....P3/4 had a lot of variety in their OSTs, to say one is only j-rap and the other is only j-pop is doing both P3/4 a disservice. Both have pop, both have rock, P4′s rocking that violin, P3′s I think rocking a synthesizer and rap, both have sad tracks that make you feel sad in different ways (P3′s “Living with Determination” is sad but is still oddly hopeful it’s almost bittersweet....it really feels like someone who is experiencing something bad and is willing to keep going with their sheer determination, while P4′s “Reverie” not only lives up to it’s musical piece’s name’s definition, being dreamlike, it also sounds like the embodiment of it’s other definition which is someone who is lost in thought/daydream....a really sad daydream but it just hits you, it feels like someone who experiencing depression and is trying to remember the happy times before breaking down. P5′s alleycat tho? Sounds like someone who is just licking their wounds, not in a sad sense, just “wow this is pitiful” on top of the fact it kinda sounds like a P4 reject song....I feel no sadness or sympathy when I hear Alleycat). Both had ominous songs for their own game. P4 also actually sounded like a detective show.

The only thing I could think about for P3/4 is that, sometimes they didn’t.....really fit the scene (mostly happened with P3 from what I remember). Like sometimes Living with Determination is great for a lot of the sad scenes, but sometimes Reverie would’ve fit better (or vice versa). Or like iirc P3′s one scene with Star the MC gets a phone call with Mamoru saying “Yo man my mom collapsed” or something, and the happy event song is still....just playing, instead of a an intense or worried or sad song (which P4 would do). XP Or like when you max out your female love interests on the male side of P3, the dorm or hangout song is playing instead of a.....more tender song choice (and I checked Tender Feelings isn’t on the male side in P3P). I mean, FeMC only changed 6-8 songs from Minato (like 2 battle songs, and 4 after school songs, with maybe 2 more school related songs), the rest of her OST is exactly the same as Minato’s....with the exception of one song. They ADDED one more song to her list and it was Tender Feelings and, it was used for....you know....tender moments, and boy did it help with the atmosphere. Just one song helped P3. And so....P3/4′s issue isn’t that it doesn’t have variety, it HAS variety, but a few extra alt songs would still work/help it out but they do pretty good for having less. P5 however, has so many songs but even less variety which....boggles my mind.

Another thing, not a point against P5 just....something I find that’s really strong in P3/4, is that P3/4′s melodies are so iconic and.....memorable, and they way they’re used.....I just find P3/4 are the kings of nostalgia. There’s just something about their songs that invoke nostalgia even if it’s not one that has one of those melody influences. Their call back game is amazing.

(Also I know Iwai and Tae’s store songs are pretty good and different but they’re wasted as store songs in all honesty, and Encounter Lovers is great but it’s used like once which is a shame....and ngl it Encounter song like if P4′s Corner of Memories, P3′s Because I will Protect you, and Catherine’s OST had a baby....which I’m fine with).

Sorry for the rant, felt like I needed to explain at least partially why I didn’t like P5′s OST. It’s not that “I don’t like Jazz” I do, but I don’t like how P5 songs like only one half-hearted Jazz song (and the other time a rock song). P3/4 have had jazz or jazz influences in their OST, and I do like Jazz in general....but P5 doesn’t sound like it’s playing Jazz, it’s just one song over and over for me.

I know I talked about P3-5, but what about P1/2 (I know I did mention a few in the boss battle portion)? I either like it or I’m neutral. A lot of songs I’m neutral on tbh, they fit but they aren’t earworms to me (a lot of P3/4′s special boss themes are like this for me). Only P5 do I get annoyed tbh.

4 notes · View notes

janiedean · 7 years ago

Text

@nederys all of you guys kinda lost your shit but i don't think you're being consistent at all. you didn't go for it being misinformed or wrongly placed, just that it was "gross" bc it was "romanticizing" blabla, like if someone made a fic about ETA terrorists or whatever and i advocated censorship and asked for it not to exist. when you accept kink and RPF, you need to stand on that principle even when it's YOUR personal/national. shaming ppl into submission is the anti strategy and it doesnt actually convince anybody of anything, much literally if it's screaming in another language to the OPs. i didnt wanna reblog or anything but i was very unpleasantly surprised with how you guys handled the situation (and i say this bc i care and i know you value rationality, not to piss you off YOUR personal/national sensibility like if someone wants to write a fic 'romanticizing' tec bundy murders or a rape fantasy or whatever it's their field day just tag it properly, it's no different for a criminal organization as i see it. a piece of sexual fantasy or literary work is not a guarantee it's portrayed in an accurate way or that it's a moral endorsementj + I'll hear your argument on 'positive representation' so i'll take your word for now but it did really come of like "your evil porn is romanticizing evil irl so it should be censored". as for the bad taste etc thing - as long as the person in question doesn't find out i dont personally see the harm. other ppl getting second-handed distastefulness/offense about it is a slippery slope, bc again that quickly devolves into "ugh why you write about rape! / rpf! if you can write kink porn and you can do rpf (like i mean, what, we just tweak the hair color and the initials to make it 'fictional'?) - it follows you can write "distasteful" kink porn about rpf all you want. it's still fiction.okay in order

In order:

as I said in the other reply, people lost their shit because we’ve had this discussion for years and every time it happens SOMEONE (most likely american but not necessarily) shows yup informing us that since mafia in US english means generally organized crime and not THAT specific organized crime we need to chill and WHO CARES YOU’RE OVERREACTING. at some point there’s a limit to how much nice you can be when you’ve been trying nicely for years and people just dismiss you most likely also because you’re not poc enough to complain - again, when it happens with people who can fall into the POC definition doing this kinda stuff automatically means you’re racist, but with us it’s not even disrespectful? or recognized as potentially harmful? fine, we lost our shit, but it’s also not the first time it happens;

the point isn’t that they were making a fic about the mafia, but if we take the ETA terrorism similitude, it wasn’t ‘making a fic abut ETA’. it was, ‘we are making an RPF fic where we take a real living spanish actor who has a friend who died during an ETA bombing and we make him the commander of an ETA faction which plants a bomb in madrid’. I’d find it distasteful if it was about FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, but whatevr - it’s fictional. real people who are actually involved with those criminals on the other side? not so cool. and the fact that these people see nothing wrong with casting them as criminals for *the mafia* shows they have no idea of what they’re talking about and again, with fictional people you can try to ignore it (even if it irks me also because 90% of the time it shows a total failure of understanding the character just by casting them as mafiosi but never mind that’s my pet peeve), but real ones? who made a pro lgbt movie and are *allies* when a mafia killing actually was what kickstarted the creation of the hugest and first anti-homophobia/pro-gay lgbtq association in italy? like. that’s fucking with real people and honestly if I was the director and knew I’d feel personally slandered especially if I come from someplace where statistically everyone knows someone who’s been hurt by the mafia in the last fifty years if they weren’t themselves. like I had a friend whose father worked for the police and the antimafia division especially and lived in palermo back in the day and criminals did try to grab her out of her pre-school and they had to change cities VERY quickly after that, and I don’t even live in sicily. and she’s not even sicilian. it was twenty years ago when they planted bombs across the entire area and killed hundreds of people just in the 90s (comprehensive list). it’s not just WRITING FIC ABOUT THE MAFIA, which I could be relatively handwaving with if it was about fictional people and even then it irks me to hell and back, but real people? who make movies pro things that the mafia hates? really? and I have to hear ‘are you angry because you’re homophobes’? I don’t ask for it NOT TO EXIST, I’m asking a basic modicum of decency.

ted bundy vs mafia: ted bundy is ONE person and he’s been convicted and whatever. if someone’s personal fantasy is fucking ted bundy WHATEVER their problem. if THEY want to do the self-insert with real criminals whatever, idgi but if they’re aware of the implications whatever. the mafia is a bunch of people and they thrive on positive media representation and it’s such large scale that it fucks with this entire country on multiple levels (ad also other countries) and here you’re not using real criminals, you’re casting as criminals people who most likely have been hurt by that same organization. it’s a difference. and if you portray it as a nice organization where hey you help people bypassing the law and gay people are accepted it’s... just... not how it works.

rpf: I’m generally pro rpf as long as people don’t go to the actual real people and don’t harass them irl (which would make a lot of rpf shippers inappropriate) but like... idk if you were around in spn fandom at the time of the infamous j2 haiti fic, but if you weren’t, tldr: person sees the aftermath of the haiti earthquake on tv, thinks ‘well that’d make a perfect setting for my j2 bigbang fic’, writes an entire fic where jared and jensen go to haiti the month it happened, her artist makes art for it photoshopping those two over like... real pictures of real dead people and three betas don’t find nothing remotely cringy in this concept. the fic gets published. it gets slandered to hell and back and while I didn’t agree on assuming the author was a pre-trump (she most likely had no idea that stuff was kindaaa racist) and that she should have been educated, I’d like to presume that people would think thrice before setting a Romance Story TM on a background where when it was published people were still excavating corpses from the rubble. it’s about the same concept as the romantic mafia fic. but with the haiti fic anyone on tumblr would agree that it’s hardly appropriate, with mafia fic it’s just ‘meh shut up you’re whining’. also, while I do agree that jared and jensen, as famous people, signed up for this, too, I don’t really think using real people for this kind of thing is fair, educated or a favor to them. I get it’s all fantasy and so on, but at least use the fictional characters. I can imagine j2 wouldn’t be happy with knowing noncon fic where they’re protagonists exists, neither with the haiti fic, but the noncon is standard fandom kink and whatever and no one else is involved, the haiti fic DOES. and while the people in those pictures wouldn’t even know, if that’s what you jerk off to at least be aware that it’s not exactly tasteful. and the people mentioned had zero idea that jerking off to the *mafia* au is not tasteful and that the *mafia* is *not* random organized crime. no one would have a problem if they called them CRIMINALS or mob or whatever without using the specific mafia word, but they like it because AESTHETICS which 90% of the time aren’t even true because the godfather aesthetic is so NOT the camorra aesthetic it’s not even funny. and of course we shoudl educate people instead, too bad that if it’s about haiti they listen and if it’s about us, they don’t;

kink: same as above but like, again, let’s always use the poor j2 guys. the j2 mafia au as above is absolutely ew to me but at least j2 are american and most likely didn’t grow up somewhere the mafia could kill their relatives or friends. guadagnino did. and whether he knows or not (HOPEFULLY HE NEVER FINDS OUT) it’s another level of disrespectful to take a guy who made a pro lgbt movie you liked and putting him in that scenario without being aware of it. and they don’t listen if you tell them. that’s the problem. I can be very tolerant, but good god at least hear people out on the subject. and if it concerns a situation that isn’t even old or a dead organization but one that’s thriving in the country still and fucks people over every day I’d like for these people to recognize that at least it’s something not cool and not just their jerk off fodder material. at this point do the GODFATHER AU, which is what they want anyway, stick with the american mafia and try to not give them positive rep, because this idea of the mafia as a cool thing plays a major role in actual mafia organization marketing themselves as a good thing and makes the work of people actually fighting them way harder. if no one thought it was cool, it wouldn’t have half the influence it has. but do I ever see mafia aus with cops or conflicted henchmen or the likes? nah. it’s all SAD ROMANTIC BACKSTORY WITH CRIMINALS. call it some other way. it’s not asking that much.

also: I am entirely down with mafia stories in media and stuff - again, I ove my sopranos and boardwalk empire and goodfellas and I actually do like the godfather when a lot of people here at this point hate it too, but none of those things make it look like it’s palatable to be in the mafia. people can jerk off to it I suppose, but at least they should be aware of that. lowering the bar, it’s why I get pissed at people passing jc as a healthy nice relationship - at least own up to your badwrong and don’t sugarcoat it. in this case they don’t even own up to the fact that it’s a real thing that hurts real people, never mind caring for the feelings of the people they’re fans of - I could jerk off to my rpf faves in anything but I’d like to know I’m not doing it to something they would loathe, and if you have to at least use the fictional characters as the jerk-off material. I mean I’d feel uncomfortable af using them as jerk-off material to something I know they as people would hate. obviously I’m pro write whatever you want, but I’m also pro ‘be aware of what you’re doing and know you’re possibly jerking off to things that are actually harmful to a lot of people and if you do and are cool with that whatever but at least try to not make it look as it’s a good thing’ while at the same time assuming that someone who tells you it’s not cool is doing it because they’re HOMOPHOBES when the mafia is the most homophobic organization in existence or close to it. we do need positive rep when it comes to mafia stories and we never get it.

like, final example: if I had seen one ‘steve rogers is a cop who wants to take down the mafia-like organization’ for every ten ‘tiny boss steve rogers and his russian henchman bucky are THE POWER COUPLE OF THE NY CRIME SCENE AND THEY KISS IN FRONT OF EVERYONE AND HELP THE WEAK WHEN THE POLICE SUCKS ASS’ fics I ran into it’d be lovely, but the point is that I’ve never seen one such fic even if it’s a lot more IC for steve rogers to take down criminals than being a criminal, and if you make people notice that nicely (which we did more than once) the usual answer is ‘go fuck yourself it’s just aesthetics the mafia doesn’t hurt anyone’ when it actually did, does and will do as long as they have means to, and since this recasting of canonically good characters as *mafia* henchmen who are happy to be there and not itching to get out just really makes pass the concept that the mafia isn’t really that bad I think I/we affected people have the rights to point out that it’s already a distasteful thing that people should at least read about before assuming it’s random organized crime that can be substituted for whichever worldbuilding they like, and if they don’t care for that fine, at least avoid involving real people who actually would loathe that irl in it or, if anything, at least recognize that it’s fucked up to hell and back. and none of the people in that thread had the grace to do that.

I mean, obviously if I had to take the choice between one such fic not existing at all but censoring stuff and it existing without censoring stuff I’d pick the latter even if I absolutely don’t like it, but what irks me and the other people involved in this debate is how nonchalantly people do these recasting assuming that they’re not romanticizing the thing (which they’re doing) and then don’t listen to others when they’re pointed out that they’re doing it and they should be aware.

like, again, I think the haiti fic was a thing that no one with some salt in their brain and a basic amount of decency should have published. someone did. they got criticized for it and it sprung a lot of discussion (including comparing it with a gen kill fic set in east timor during the war which actually did it right and so no one actually thought it was exploiting a tragedy or being in bad taste) and tbh I think that when doing fic about serious things you should at least read up on that. but the point is that these people don’t listen, haven’t listened for years and most likely will keep on not listening and sorry but seeing a person from palermo who shoots movies that would make any cosa nostra boss mad being recast as a cosa nostra/mafia sicilian boss who, if compared to a, uh, real life person who died recently would deal with people seceding from this organization by ordering to kidnap their children and have them dissolved in acid at the ripe age of nine is really goddamned distateful and hearing ‘so your problem is that they’re gay is that why you’re so angry’ as a response instead of reading it and thinking ‘damn maybe that was a bit out of line’ isn’t exactly that great.

especially because again, these organization thrive on people assuming they’re less bad than they actually are and we’re not talking about stuff that happened three hundred years ago - the kid dissolved in acid happened in 1996 and it’s hardly the last time something like that happened. it’s not a general crime organization, it’s a very specific one, and I’ll be fine with people jerking off to any italian stereotype in existence while I roll my eyes and be fine with it, but at least I’d like these people to know what they’re doing. and they aren’t. and they should be. and on top of that some positive rep where the mafia people are inherently bad and the good guys want to take them down would be nice. I do get that it looks like I’m being incoherent but I’m not saying they can’t do it, I’m saying they should show a minimum of consideration, and they aren’t. then no one’s stopping them from doing it of course but just the fact that they-won’t-listen kind of says a lot. :/ and when it comes to real people and real things it’s not just fiction and you should at least be aware of that.

#nederys #janie replies #janie rants #mafia #long post for ts #child murder tw

15 notes · View notes