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robbyswayzekeenes · 4 years ago

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fuck up our friendship━ eli moskowitz imagine

eli moskowitz x fem!reader

set after the party in 2x09, pretty wholesome with admitting feelings but also angst bc the reader is tryna be friends with both eli and demetri and it is NOT going well

Once the police busted the party, Y/N knew she had to find Eli. The girl was a Miyagi-Do student, and she knew full well that Sam and Robby would not appreciate her going to find her oldest friend and Cobra Kai’s number one asshole, but the pair were having their own issues, so it was unlikely they would find out. Y/N and Eli had been friends since the girl moved to the Valley at the start of freshman year. She wasn’t exactly a loser as someone like Yasmine or Kyler would word it, and many people never understood why she signed away her high school popularity to be friends with the two biggest dorks in school-- Demetri and Eli-- but she wouldn’t have wanted anybody else. Demetri and Eli had been best friends since kindergarten, and the h/c slotted into the group perfectly. They may have had it pretty bad at school, but they had each other.

Then, two years later, at the start of their junior year, karate came back to the Valley. Whilst Y/N and Demetri had always been seemingly content with living their lives as losers, apparently Eli didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t the mohawk or the new name they particularly had a problem with, or his newfound popularity that bothered them. It was the way he went about getting it. Hawk was becoming the very person he had always hated. Both of his best friends knew this wasn’t the person he really was, but when Demetri had addressed this, Eli declared an all out war against him. So now Y/N was left as the middle-man, trying to care for both of her best friends and bring them back together without choosing a side. And neither of them made it easy.

Tonight, at Moon’s party, Y/N had been so hopeful. The two sat talking about Doctor Who whilst the girl stood beside Robby and Sam, sipping her drink and pretending she wasn’t listening in to what Demetri and Eli were talking about. She allowed herself to get distracted for one moment to talk with Robby about skateboarding and suddenly, Eli was pouring his drink all over Demetri’s head. With a shameful sigh, Y/N walked over to the two, handing paper towels to the dark haired boy and raising her eyebrows at Eli. The red haired boy gave her a sheepish, apologetic smile before wandering off to join the other Cobras.

In all fairness, Hawk had it coming when Demetri stood up on that stage with the mic in his hand, but the brown eyed boy didn’t need to take it that far. Watching from where she stood with the other Miyagi-Dos, her e/c eyes flitted between Eli and Demetri. It pained the girl to watch her two best friends fight, but it hurt more knowing she was watching her best friend and the boy she was in love with attempt to tear each other’s heads off. Y/N had developed the biggest crush on Eli in their sophomore year, and everybody knew it except the boy in question. Demetri knew it, too, which was why initially he was so hesitant to launch an attack against his best friend, no matter how much he deserved it. But that night, he hadn’t held back.

Once the cops pulled up outside, everything descended into chaos. Her eyes met with Demetri’s, which were filled with remorse, and he nodded at her. “Go find him. Make sure he’s okay.” Y/N offered the boy a small smile in return. She knew Demetri still cared for Eli, and Eli still cared for Demetri. It was just Hawk who appeared not to. Rushing out the house so as not to get caught by the police, the h/c found Eli walking out the back of the house alone. The rest of the Cobras weren’t around, which reassured Y/N, but only slightly. “Eli!” She called, causing his head to swing around, his blue eyes catching hers. “What do you want? Come to humiliate me even more?” “Eli,’ The girl breathed in response, sounding exasperated as she caught up to him. “You know I wouldn’t do that.” “I didn’t think Demetri would, either,” He responded, allowing Y/N to see how hurt he really was. “And I didn’t think you would attack him when we were at the mall the other day. Or pour beer on his head.” Eli let out a sigh-- he was Eli now he was around Y/N. She was the only person he trusted enough to let his newfound guard down around.

“I’ve told you this before, Y/N,” The red haired boy said with a sigh. “Demetri chose his side. He went against us. Against Cobra Kai.” “I don’t need to hear it again, Eli,” The h/c haired girl huffed. “I’m just here to make sure you’re okay. Cobra Kai or not, you’re my best friend. I care about you, and so does Demetri.” “Whatever,” The boy exhaled, but he still allowed Y/N to walk the rest of the way home with him, and even come in when he opened the door and headed inside. “Mom isn’t home,” Eli spoke, closing the door and flicking off his shoes, “She’s on night shift tonight.” “Good job I’m here then,” Y/N nodded, knowing how much the blue eyed boy hated being alone. Eli didn’t say anything in response, just smiled smally.

Any alcohol consumed at the party that evening had begun to wear off, as Eli and Y/N sat on the couch in the front room. The silence was awkward for the first few moments; it always was now that there was a clear divide pushing the two apart, but both of them more than anything wanted to stay close. As much as Y/N’s crush on Eli was clear as day (to everyone other than him), the boy’s reciprocated feelings were much better hidden, especially with his new Hawk facade. However, Cobra Kai had thrown in the spanner in the works, and any chance the boy may have had with his best friend was seemingly gone. Yet, every few nights the girl would still come over and spend time with Eli, alternating the time she used to spend with both her best friends.

Eventually, the awkwardness faded, and the two would begin to speak about anything and everything they hadn’t caught up on, considering they had spent most of the summer apart at their separate dojos. An hour or so past, taking the time up to midnight, before Eli invited Y/N to stay the night like she had many times before. The h/c hastily agreed, and followed Eli upstairs to his bedroom, yawning quietly due to exhaustion. Once they made it up, her e/c eyes widened. “What the fuck happened in here?” The once blue walls, littered with posters, were now red and bare. A punching bag stood where a fake TARDIS used to be, and there wasn’t a funko pop in sight, which was not at all like Eli Moskowitz. The bedsheets were just plain black, rather than Star Wars themed, but when the h/c craned her neck, there were still small, glow-in-the-dark stars littered across the ceiling. “I redecorated,” Was all Eli said, flopping down on his bed.

Y/N flopped down beside him. “I think I preferred the Doctor Who merch,” The girl admitted honestly, causing Eli to look at her with wide eyes. “Did you know the new Doctor was female?” “Of course,” The h/c smiled, “Me and Demetri still watch every Friday night.” At the mention of this, Eli’s face fell, causing Y/N to frown. “You know he didn’t really want to hurt you tonight,” The girl sighed, attempting to lock eyes with Eli who was staring down at his fidgeting fingers. “It was a shitty thing to do, but you’ve both done shitty things to each other.” She continued her speech, becoming more and more passionate as she spilled her frustration out to Eli: “Do you know how hard it is for me to watch my two best friends fight with each other? Over something as petty as a fucking karate dojo! I know that I can’t stop you two fighting and the best I can do is try and maintain the middle ground, because the last thing I want to do is choose between my best friend and the others at Miyagi-Do, and the boy I’ve had feelings for since forever.”

Y/N’s voice began to fade out as she calmed down, but Eli was still staring at her, seemingly in shock. Noticing how panicked the boy looked, the girl’s face softened. “I’m sorry for yelling, Eli, I-” “You said you had feelings for me.” His voice was deadpan, showing no emotions as his blue eyes bore into Y/N. The girl’s mouth opened and closed in shock. “I- Maybe I said that. Accidentally. Maybe-” “You have feelings for me?” Eli spoke again, and for a second, he sounded like Eli, like the person he was before all this karate shit took over. With a sigh, the girl nodded. “Congratulations. You’re officially the last person to know.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” The boy asked, his eyes wide. “I don’t know,” The girl shrugged. “Guess I didn’t wanna fuck up our friendship, but I guess karate’s doing that for us.” Y/N’s e/c eyes chose to rest on the bed sheets beneath her instead of on Eli as he responded. “Well, what if I want to fuck up our friendship?” At this comment, however, the girl’s eyes shot up, just in time for Eli to place his hand on her chin and placed his lips against hers.

She was shocked at first, but Y/N soon kissed back, placing her hands on the boy’s face to pull him closer. The girl felt him smile into the kiss as he rolled himself closer, wrapping a hand round her waist to draw her in. “I’ll fuck up our friendship a hundred times over if it means I can do that again,” Y/N smiled, resting her forehead against his. Eli kissed her once again, softly, before saying: “For the record, I like you, too. I’m surprised Demetri didn’t tell you.” “That rat!” Y/N exclaimed, though she wasn’t really annoyed. “I’m going to kill him!” “Right now?” Eli asked, quirking his eyebrow with a cocky smirk. “Hm, maybe not,” The girl grinned, biting her lip and pulling the boy closer. “I think I’ll just stay here and kiss you.”

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queenofallimagines · 4 years ago

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after seeing all this cheater hq stuff; imma need the reader to actually square up for once. pleaase gimme some hcs of where the reader catches the boys cheating and actually throws hands 😔😔 maybe with iwa, bokuto and kuroo. (and the aftermath of the fight if it ain't too much)

PERIOD!! The reader is allowed to snap as a treat.Y’all are better than me acting like the bigger person BC I’m only 5”6 I ain’t bigger than shit

Iwaizumi:

- you really chose my three favorite boys huh?

- This one would hurt in a special place because I feel like everybody around you would know except for you

- Oikawa already knew from jump and depending on your relationship with him he would help

- All the 3rd years are kind of just looking at you like,,,, who gon tell em

- The embarrassment is what really gets you

- Of course he slips up because he assumes everybody’s gonna keep his little secret

- Matsukawa(big dick king) Will probably pull you aside and be like Hajime is a scumbag

- And you just slowly start noticing everyone gets super aggressive with him as he pulls away from you

- When you catch him it’s like time moves in slow motion

- Whether you find a text or you catch him in the act your heart stops for a few seconds

- Like the air in your lungs? Gone

- if it happens in private you might as will have to hide his body later because nobody is coming to save him

- He’s just trying to apologize and explain himself

- Any excuse he has is whack asf so please beat his ass

- Start throwing shit at him

- If it’s in public and you find out Oikawa will help you beat his ass

- Will hand you things to throw at him

- Consoles you

- He’s a good ride or die for this situation BC he will only hold you back if you grab a knife

- Other than that it’s free realistate

- After you go crazy he will help you pack your bags and leave

- When he shows up to practice the next day with a big ass red handprint on his face everybody knows what happened

- Whoever he was cheating with will not even cross your path because they don’t want smoke

- 10/10 would kick his ass again

Bokuto:

- This one definitely hurts the worst because he’s such a sweet boy

- I can imagine him probably doing it while drunk and not seeing the problem until later

- Akaashi probably doesn’t know because if he did he would snitch in a heartbeat

- you probably find out via kuroo BC he would be pressuring bo to come clean

- You most likely find out over a text conversation

- He probably handed you his phone BC he’s careless and doesn’t think he has anything to hide in the first place

- You see a spam of texts in a group chat exposing him

- you definitely feel anger before anything else

- Seething hot rage because he’s over here acting like nothing is wrong

- When you ask him he will probably tell you straight up

- “Oh yeah I did do that.”

- when he sees how hurt you are he’s like oh wait

- His mindset is that; it was an accident so it’s not a big deal

- He’s trying to train with you when you pimp slap him

- Bro he seeing starts after that

- He feels awful but the damage is done

- The house is a wreck because you’re tryna get away and calm down but he keeps following you

- You throwing everything and he is honestly taking it like a champ

- When you dip he talks to akaashi and he gets hung up on

- Akaashi will also help you pack your bags again

- 9/10 would fight only because his sad expression will pull you back in

Kuroo:

- okay well as much as I would like to say he would be the most likely we all know that’s not true

- He’s a dork first and foremost

- I think he’s also a Scorpio

- But this will be from unresolved feelings

- His ex shows up and he remembers how he feels about them

- He will probably hang out with them with no ill intentions

- But he remembers how much he loved them

- Especially if it ended up being a messy separation

- Lowkey forgets about you and hooks up with them

- He then realizes he has to come home to you

- He’s fighting the love he has for you and them at the same time

- It’s eating away at him

- You find catch his ass walking out of a love hotel and it’s a wrap

- Call kenma

- He will help you plan revenge

- BC as much as he is kuroo’s friend

- He is messy and thinks this behavior has consequences

- You are at home silent as a mouse

- You can feel the anger build up with every passing second

- When he comes home and can’t even look you in the eye you know you were right

- If you question him he crumbles

- He definitely can’t handle the pressure

- Will start to apologize but when you start yelling he’s quiet

- He just basks in his shame because dam

- He really messed up

- He thinks about all you’ve done for him and how he’s fucked it all up

- you loved him unconditionally

- Free pass to say all the hurtful shit you want

- “Did you ever love me or was i a replacement?”

- He flinches at your words

- Is dodging the stuff you’re throwing

- But as you’re in a rage filled frenzy he can’t help but notice your stuff is already gone

- He made his bed now he has to lie in it

- Probably regrets it the most out of the three

- When you leave he is a hollow shell

- Especially if his ex don’t want him back

- Guess they’re an ex for a reason huh clown?

- He’s gunna call you for like 3 months straight

- You gotta block his number

- Will try so hard to get you back

- When you move on he still stuck

- 8/10 would fight because the begging he does will make you want to forgive him

- Don’t do it

#cheating tw #just in case #haikyuu x poc reader #haikyuu x black reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurō #bokuto x reader #Kōtarō Bokuto #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #my writing #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

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royivia · 3 years ago

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The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.

#short story #original fiction #creative writing #writers of tumblr #fiction

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yumi-michiyo · 3 years ago

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Bird on the Wire [12/?]

Rating: T for Santana’s potty mouth

Genre: Romance/Humor/Angst/Slice-of-Life/Slowburn

Pairings: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray

Links: Fanfiction dot net | AO3

As always, if you're just here for the story, links are above; if you want to read the extended notes, click on the cut below.

Extended Notes and Meta:

All the chapters in this story present unique problems and headaches; one has nonexistent scene transitions, another messes up story continuity, yet another has weird dialogue. Not to mention that Quinn and Rachel like to take one look at my neatly-planned chapter outline and then go off to do their own thing. A combination of all of the above made this particular chapter tedious to edit.

I like to insert mockery of Glee canon in every chapter of this fic. I think I managed to squeeze in quite a number this round. Cookies for spotting them all (not from me).

Lydia the therapist isn’t based on any actual therapist. She’s a fictional creation based on what I think therapy should be like mixed with my own failed attempts at therapy. She’s named after the character in Skyrim, everybody’s favourite housecarl, because she’s “sworn to carry your burdens”. I imagine her as the quiet but patient support character working to get Quinn through her hang-ups quicker so we can actually get a kiss before Chapter 47.

My apologies to Kurt and Mercedes fans: I had originally intended for them to have a bigger role in this fic (as a foil for Quinn), but I couldn’t find a place to write them without seeming gratuitous. This fic was always meant to focus on Quinn and Rachel, and I found that adding Kurt and Mercedes made the fic difficult to follow, not to mention the canon is such a headache to navigate.

Boy Bashing

Many fics portray Finn and Sam as one-dimensional characters who exist to provide conflict and are speedily removed from the story to let the Faberry happen. This fic would’ve been a lot shorter if I had done the same. As much as I want things to happen, this fic focuses on realism. IMO, Quinn isn’t going to keep Beth, nor are she and Rachel going to be emotionally mature enough to get together in high school (and create a strong relationship). This is also why the Berrymen and Lydia get prominent parts in the fic: they’re there to shape our girls and help them mature faster as positive adult role models. Finn, Puck, and Sam are there to provide contrast and to link back to canon before I radically change everything. My goal in writing this fic is to create my own take on Glee canon i.e. with a healthy dose of common sense (and with Faberry, of course).

Musicals and Music

I would consider myself a Broadway fan who's definitely a member of Quinn and Rachel's generation. However, I will be referencing songs and musicals that don't exist at the time of the fic (because it is physically impossible for me not to include Six or La La Land in any fic I write). Sorry, not sorry 'bout what I said, I'm just tryna have some fun.

To Everyone Reading This…

I cannot overstate the importance of readership. I’m writing this for fun, but part of the fun is knowing that people out there are also following the story. I have my very particular hang-ups and way of thinking (Aspergers FTW) so there are definitely going to be bits and pieces that I’ll get wrong or see differently from everyone else. Thank you to the people who read and leave reviews/comments; I’m glad you’re enjoying the story, and hope you’ll join me for the entire journey.

#story: bird on the wire #fandom: glee #ship: faberry #quinn fabray #rachel berry #faberry #multichapter #part 12 #fanfic #fanfiction

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sunsetcarnation264 · 3 years ago

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So, uh, that DT17 finale huh?

I would've made this right after I watched the finale, but I wanted to give it a bit of time to sink in fully and made sure I thought everything through before giving my thoughts on it. Not the worst finale there is, but it definitely could've been way better in my opinion. I've heard about the finale from my friends who've seen it, which from the sounds of it I already wasn't liking it, but since I've seen the finale now, how I feel about it is now concrete and set in stone and I feel the same as before. Maybe how I feel about it is in the minority side, or maybe a majority side, I dunno but I don't care. It's not the best it could've been and I'll explain why below. If you like it, good for you I guess because everyone's tastes are different, but I personally don't and I feel like the show deserves a much better finale than this. HEAVY DUTY DISCLAIMER: Just because I'm criticizing the finale doesn't mean I don't love the series, in fact it's because I love the show that I'm giving criticism and give what I would’ve done instead, and if you're anything like me and you're hella late to the party then there'll be spoilers for the finale. If you haven't caught up on the last episode, then you're not missing much honestly, but if you don't like spoilers regardless then watch that first then come back

The first part of the finale starts off like any other DuckTales 2017 episode. It's Webby's birthday, everyone's keeping their eyes out for F.O.W.L. shit, and Webby's enjoying herself. After a bit everyone goes below Funso's and they end up in F.O.W.L.'s territory. F.O.W.L. sets everything up to be on self-destruct, so they gotta find them and stop the self-destruction. They did happen to do the latter, but the F.O.W.L. members already escaped with almost everything. Just almost. The gang end up finding May and June, who're clones and they presume they're clones of Webby. Now this is where I'm starting to not like the finale. Yeah, you can do clones as like a plot twist, but at the same time it feels a bit outta nowhere. Had they foreshadowed it in another episode or have it lead up to the whole "oh shit there's clones of a character we know and love" thing then I wouldn't have a problem, but this came outta nowhere and I kept an eye on possible foreshadowing during season 3 and the rest of season 2 post The Duck Knight Returns too so I would've picked something up. The only thing that could count as foreshadowing was when Beakley promised Webby that she won't keep anymore secrets from her and the harp was saying "fibbing fibbing fibbing", but that's just it. Part two of the finale, Gyro does tests on them to see who they might've been clones of. He tries to tell everyone what the results are but when Scrooge asks him, he said it didn't come up with anything for him to answer the question. Beakley thinks they're both dangerous and locks them up in a closet. Webby, being a naive little girl, wants to talk to them because they're essentially her 'sisters' and she wants to know them more even though Beakley straight up tells her not to interact with them. Webby disregards what Beakley says anyways and she frees them, talks to them, and tries to show them her family tree so they can figure out where May and June came from. May and June are basically like "ehhhh this is your family tree? Who tf are you related to besides Beakley?" yeah, as if extended family or found family still ain't family you jerks. In the meantime, Louie just wants to watch his Ottoman Empire finale which ends up being shitty foreshadowing for the last part of this finale. You'll see why I mentioned this later. They even see Lena and Violet on there and are like "okay but who're those" which Webby responds with how they're her best friends and guess what one of the two clones goes to do? One of them grabs scissors and tries to cut it. When she does cut it, Lena's like "aw hell no bitch" and uses magic on her. Webby being Webby, is completely upset about this because "that was my sister how could you do that" and runs off like how one of the clones ran off. Bitch you only knew her for like five seconds, just because y'all be related don't mean you automatically THIS close to each other like how you are with Lena, Violet, Huey, Dewey, Louie, and anybody else in the McDuck family. I personally believe that love, trust, and respect is what makes people family, not blood/DNA, adoption, or they were married into the family or a step sib/kid/etc. If they're a harmful dick (i.e. a bigot who's queerphobic and/or racist or if they're an abuser, murderer, etc.) then you don't gotta treat them like family or say that they're your family. But anyways we're probs getting off topic, point is that she should trust those who she's known forever instead of clones she knew for a few minutes. Everybody tries to find Webby and one of the clones that ran off. Webby bumped into Beakley as she was tryna find May or June (I think May tho, don't recall) and she tries to lie her way outta it but Beakley knows what's up lol. She says that Webby wants to see the clones, Webby goes with it, and the younger duck wants to know who her parents were. Beakley tells her who her parents were (which might've either been a lie or she was describing herself and a late significant other that we've seen in Webby's picture of her parents) and Webby accepts it. Cut to later when she catches May and June trying to steal the ancient artifacts that Scrooge and co. retrieved during the entirety of season 3. She's shocked that they're even doing this, they all fight each other, and May escaped while June got knocked out. Webby disguises herself as June while she takes her outside where F.O.W.L. awaited them with an aircraft, most importantly Bradford. We only find out Webby was disguising herself as June when everyone got on. Huey notices what's going on and he goes after them, somewhat hiding in the aircraft before everyone leaves for the F.O.W.L. hideout. Not gonna lie, that was a pretty smart plan by Webby. Considering they all look identical and Webby's good at imitation, she can actually get away with this pretty well. This I actually really like and I wouldn't change too much about this. When Huey reveals himself to the three, Webby reveals herself to him but tells him to play along so they ain't fucked over. Somewhat worked. Webby keeps making little slips here and there which makes May hella suspicious of her. They land at the hideout, Webby tries to get what info she can while Huey's taken away. Thanks to the help of Pepper (who I love btw and I think deserves the best ;____;), Webby ends up finding the document room where there's documents on May, June, and a third person with the codename of April. She watches it and oh, shit, it turns out Bentina Beakley actually snatched her ass from F.O.W.L. when she was a baby! What a shocker! She couldn't believe what she was seeing! This is actually fine to me, her possibly being a clone actually makes sense because she could've been a clone of Beakley. Plus it's also a huge reference to how Webby was created to be a combination of Daisy's nieces April, May, and June back in the original series, though I dunno how many people would catch that, especially younger fans who might not have done the research to getting all of the references and easter eggs here. When Beakley was brought in (essentially she knocked Scrooge out without hurting him, went to here alone to take care of F.O.W.L. once and for all just for Webby, but got defeated along with some of the McDucks), everyone leaves Beakley, Webby, and the Harp alone and Webby somewhat confronts Beakley about her past. Needless to say, Webby ain't excited about this and she gets captured and tied up. She's actually pretty depressed, which I mean in a way I don't blame her since she wanted to know if that shit was real or if F.O.W.L. was fabricating it. Cut to Huey being brought to Bradford. Apparently he was a fellow Woodchuck too, though he wasn't the best despite being the very first Woodchuck by his grandmother Isabella Finch, in fact he was the worst which hahaha yeah I can actually believe that. It does explain why he hates adventures and all of that shit, one of the only things I'm willing to accept from the finale. He talks about how he wants to complete the collection "for the better" because Scrooge and everyone else in the family were the only ones to have Isabella's lost journal. Huey believes this at first. He stops believing it once he ends up finding Gyro and everyone else who're locked up. In the meantime, Bradford drags Webby out to a sort of box along with May and June. She doesn't know why she's brought up here. When she gets close to the box, the papyrus appears because... She's the descendant of... Of Scrooge McDuck. Okay no, JUST NAH MAN. This is where my biggest issue in the finale lies, the fact that she's a clone/made from Scrooge's DNA and is technically his "daughter". Not everybody has to be related to Scrooge McDuck to be great, in fact doing this to her actually ruins Webby's character. Her trope is "found family," not "I'm secretly part of the family this whole time and not even I knew it" and this fucks with it so badly. This show is about family, and all different kinds of it. Being taken care of by your uncles/aunts instead of your parents but still having a good relationship, some kids don't have parents and they're gone for whatever reason, being loved and accepted by other family members, some families are awful and abusive, hell some families have two same sex/gendered parents with a kid who's def adopted and one might've been adopted or been from a previous relationship, and it's also how sometimes we find people to call family because we found them and they found us. Webby was the one to fill in the finding those to find family alongside her grandma, but I feel like they're disregarding that just to have a huge plot twist. Again aside from Beakley keeping secrets from Webby, there was no foreshadowing and it makes a previous episode from season two (Nightmare on Killmotor Hill) seem kinda creepy in hindsight since she's over here wanting to be Scrooge himself, and creepy overall due to how obsessive she was over the whole McDuck family in general. You could say it's foreshadowing this whole time, since some people might actually be like this before realizing that "oh hey I'm actually related to this person" due to someone being adopted, given to someone else to take care of, divorce and each parent keeps one of the kids and they don't meet again until way later in life, which in a way is a fair point but at the same time not everyone's gonna notice this even when they look back at the previous episodes. If you're gonna do foreshadowing and a plot twist, you have to do it where looking back everyone can notice little details, not just a certain group of people, and you gotta make sure it's good. Every plot twist has it's foreshadowings, and every good one has a good amount for people to take a guess. Every bad plot twist, however, is either forced in just to shock the viewers or has shitty foreshadowing that's either extremely little or none. I will make a comparison between this and Steven Universe (which if you're still watching or haven't touched yet but haven't gotten up to season five, please skip this part to avoid spoilers for the show) because in Steven Universe, there were PLENTY of hints and foreshadowing that Rose Quartz was actually Pink Diamond and it was even a theory too that Rose was actually Pink, alongside a theory that Pearl was actually the one to shatter Pink Diamond and not Rose which ended up being true in a way that both fits. This was a good plot twist that everyone can watch the show from start to end once again and notice every little bits of details that led up to that plot twist reveal. (End of SU spoilers) This, however, isn't a good plot twist. It's a terrible one and, again, forced in, messy, and there's not enough foreshadowing that can be used to be like "oh I kinda saw that coming" or "oh shit!" and think it's a genuinely good twist. Also the fact that Webby called Scrooge "Dad" T W I C E in the finale, it doesn't sound right, I even voiced out loud that OH EW THAT DOESN'T FEEL RIGHT WHY ARE YOU CALLING HIM DAD THIS IS GROSS STOP IT LIKE JUST CALL HIM UNCLE SCROOGE LIKE YOU'VE ALWAYS DONE- Oh and this is meant to be a throwback to that Ottoman Empire finale foreshadowing thing from earlier btw lol The last few things I can note about this is the fight between Scrooge and Bradford, where the latter reveals that he was the one to tell Della about the Spear of Selene (which pisses Scrooge off so damn BADLY and it's the other thing I can accept from the finale, it seems like Bradford to do that shit), and the fact that Donald almost died for fucking good due to Bradford pushing his ass into a machine that can erase anything and everything from existence when put in there. He did so with his minions, so he has no qualms about doing so to Scrooge's family unless he signed the papyrus as a contract. Not that it worked anyways, since "family is the greatest adventure of all" which Bradford didn't understand one bit lol But the finale? Not good, the show deserved so much better and Huey deserved way better because this was his season. What I would've done differently is mainly how Webby is a "clone" or whatever you want to call her. It makes no sense for all of her DNA to be from Scrooge McDuck, which raises way too many questions. Why not Beakley? Why not a warrior from F.O.W.L. with a mix of McDuck DNA? Why is Webby a girl while Scrooge isn't? You could argue that oh he might be a trans guy, which while I absolutely LOVE trans and nonbinary headcanons (due to the fact I'm a nonbinary woman myself), it just feels like a cheap escape goat of an excuse to explain that and Scrooge being trans because of that? Ehhhhhhhhhhhhh it doesn't feel right to me. If it was a combination of him and Beakley, then okay I'd get why she's like that, but it still has the problem of her being related to the family DNA-wise. Same with the clones honestly. Now what I would do differently is make it where she's a clone of someone (def not Scrooge) and make it where she has an identity-existential crisis. Who is she really? Is she this "April" character, or if she Webby like she's always known herself as her whole life? In the end, she accepts that she's herself, Webby Vanderquack, granddaughter of Bentina Beakley and an ally of Scrooge McDuck. May and June, on the other hand, are possibly failed attempts to recreate Webby, the perfect clone, in order to get the papyrus to appear which in of itself never stated it had to be a DIRECT heir to Scrooge McDuck (it just states that it requires an heir of Scrooge McDuck) like a daughter/son or whatever. You can go back to the episode "The First Adventure" to look at the papyrus if you want, but he wrote that it was to an HEIR not a descendant. It heavily supports how they changed a shit ton of things before the last season being this year instead of idk, try to make it better because they finished voicing the lines in January this year when they started doing season three around the time we got season two. Bradford gets frustrated, wondering how it couldn't have worked because HE HAS WEBBY RIGHT HERE. What he didn't realize was that it could've been someone within the family itself, one who's considered the smart one out of the bunch that wasn't Scrooge McDuck himself, someone who's also a fellow Junior Woodchuck. And that would be Hubert Duck, in which season three is meant to be his season. When he gets close, the papyrus appears but Bradford snatches it and runs off with it so he can finish up that contract he's spent FOREVER to make and force Scrooge to write his name there. As with May and June, I dunno what I would do with them, but if I rewrite the finale at some point (which I would be doing now with my mom, who watched the finale with me because we tend to watch stuff a lot, but I can't at the moment because I have a list of stuff to make and I can't afford to make it longer than it already is along with my WIP list) I'll figure out what to do with them. Overall, the finale is a 4 out of 10 for me. Not horrible enough for it to be the worst finale ever in the history of shows/series, but it's definitely got a lot of things that bothered me too much to genuinely enjoy it without getting stuck on something for too long. Again if you like it, good for you, but personally? It should've been much better and the series deserves a proper finale. If there's no surprise movie to make it better, then I'ma just pretend this finale doesn't exist like nah bye bitch dunno you lmao Besides with how messy this finale is, I hope you guys enjoyed reading my thoughts on it and I hope you guys have a great day

#DuckTales 2017 #DuckTales Reboot #Spoilers on the finale/The Last Adventure #Lil's Talks #Idk I just thought about it again and I'm just not that happy with it lol #Just put a lot of love and care into everything you work on guys #I'm up for discussion to see why you guys like it #just don't be a dick in the comments and reblogs please #That's all I ask for

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bumblesimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Lie

Request: Yes or No

I heard you told your friends that I'm just not your type

If that's how you really feel, then why'd you call last night?

You say all I ever do is just control your life

But how you gonna lie like that, how you gonna lie like that?

"Yeah, nah, man. (Y/N) is dope, but he's just not my type, ya know? I think I was just.. Experimenting with what I like." Chuck explained to his friends. (Y/N) played with his lighter, flickering it on and off as an amused smile tugged at his lips. He pretended not to listen, headphones in but music low.

"I hope we can stay friends cause he's the chillest guy I know." He finally brought the lighter up to his cigarette, lighting it and flicking it off.

"He was kind of.. Controlling in a way? Not possessive or toxic. You know how chicks get when they think you're cheating? Like that." (Y/N) almost snorted but held it back. He pulled the cigarette away from his lips and stood up from the bench, passing by the guys without a glance.

Yeah, I heard you said I ain't the type for you

I don't regret it though, I learned from it

They should have you locked up for all the time you stole from us (Woo)

Took you out when I had no money

Only person that you ever cared about was you, that's why it's so funny

(Y/N) didn't have much of reaction when news spread of his and Chuck's breakup. He found it a bit amusing. Chuck tried to make people feel bad for him but at the same time make (Y/N) look good as well. Maybe from guilt or to keep (Y/N) as a just in case. He knew there was good inside of Chuck but he didn't expect much from the relationship. He tried to make it work but you can only try so much before giving up. The only thing (Y/N) really regretted was the time wasted on an empty relationship.

You want somebody that'll keep you warm at night

Then, tell me, why you actin' cold to me?

You ain't the only one to blame, no, I'm the one that made you rich

When I bought every lie you sold to me

Yeah, heard you threw away the pictures

But you still got the memories of us

So I guess I don't really make a difference

After the playbook, nobody really wanted to be friends with Chuck. So, when (Y/N) showed slight interest, Chuck pounced at it. Though, it seemed to have been a waste of time since he deleted all their pictures off social media. (Y/N) knew there was a romance, a spark, between Josie and Chuck. But Chuck assured (Y/N) that they were just friends. (Y/N) tried to believe him but at the end, he knew it was a lie.

Flippin' through 'em in your head

Got you texting me all hours of the night

Yeah, you told me that you needed distance

What's the deal with you?

You say you want a man that keeps it real

Then why you mad when I get real with you?

You want someone to pay the bills for you

Went from feelin' you, now I feel for you, liar

(Y/N) had to put his phone on mute thanks to Chuck. If he didn't, he'd be up all night hearing the nofications from Chuck and his texts. Crazy how Chuck wanted distance yet he was the one trying to stay close. (Y/N) had started to like Chuck, mostly going out with him out of pity, but that changed a few months into the relationship. People had started warming up to him again and (Y/N) quickly realized that he was just a tool to get on everyone's good side again. It was annoying.

I heard you told your friends that I'm just not your type

If that's how you really feel, then why'd you call last night?

You say all I ever do is just control your life

But how you gonna lie like that, how you gonna lie like that?

"Hey, (N/N), how's everything going?" Betty asked, nimbling on her bottom lip as she watched him. He furrowed his brows.

"Good, why wouldn't it be?" He questioned.

"Because of the breakup?" It was Betty's turn to be confused. (Y/N) blinked and nodded.

"Oh, right, yeah." He nodded, giving a sheepish smile. "I've got a lot on my mind. I'm actually sketching out a new idea." Betty smiled.

"Really? That's good. At least you've got your mind off Chuck."

"I've been through breakups before, Elle Woods. Chuck is the last thing on my mind, but thanks for worrying. Honestly... He's not really my type."

Look, let me guess, you want to stay friends?

Tellin' people that's how we been?

Tellin' everybody, yeah, that we was barely speakin'

Ah, that's kinda funny, why'd you call me every day then?

It's immaturity, you goin' off the deep end

"I'm glad you and Chuck are still friends."

"Friends?" (Y/N) repeated Ginger's words. "We don't talk. At all." That was kind of a lie. Chuck called and texted everyday but (Y/N) barely replied. (Y/N) shook his head, sighing. He spotted the jock and sent him a text, straying away from his friends. Chuck jogged over, flashing his charming smile.

"What's up?"

"First of all, can you not blow up my phone? Second of all, quit lying. We don't talk and we aren't friends." Chuck frowned at his words.

"What are we?"

"Acquaintances? Exes? Strangers? Take your pick but this isn't friendship." (Y/N) rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

You just want somebody you can chill and get some drinks with, cool

Then don't hit me on the weekend

Tellin' me you missed the way we talked and how I listen, yeah

Why you playin' with my mind, huh?

Why you playin' with my time, huh?

"Listen, (N/N), why don't we talk about this at Pop's? Like we used to. I wanna be friends with you again."

"No, Chuck. I'm tired of.. Of you." (Y/N) confessed. "You got brownie points from everyone, congrats, but can you leave me alone now? I know I sound like a dick but you're wasting my time. Either be my ex or be a stranger, I don't care which. Go find Josie or Moose to keep you company."

"No, baby-" (Y/N) rolled his eyes again at the pet name. "We aren't together anymore, you can stop pretending to like me, Chuck."

Told me, "We should let it go and put it all behind us"

That's what I did, now you askin' me what I done, I was

Waitin' for this day, I saw it comin'

I think you just like attention, tryna tell me all your problems

I got issues of my own, I ain't got time for all this drama

You told me that you don't really wanna talk—then why you callin', huh?

"Let's put the past behind us-"

"I did but it seems like you can't." (Y/N) took out his cigarette pack, glancing at a disapproving Chuck.

"I'm just trying to fit in again, (N/N). I haven't figured out what I want in school yet." Chuck watched as (Y/N) raised the rolled up blunt to his lips.

"You have problems, I have problems, we should just fix them on our own with different people, Chuck." (Y/N) said, glad school had been long over or else he would've definitely been caught and suspended.

"Fine, if you don't wanna talk, we won't talk."

"Good, don't call or text me about anything other than school, aight?" (Y/N) spun around on his heel and went back to Ginger and Tina.

I heard you told your friends that I'm just not your type

If that's how you really feel, then why'd you call last night?

You say all I ever do is just control your life

But how you gonna lie like that, how you gonna lie like that?

(Y/N) grinned, shaking the spray can as he stared up at his finished masterpiece. He was glad Keller let him do art around the town as long as it wasn't offensive. (Y/N) took out a cigarette and lighter, trying to light it but he had run out of fuel. He huffed and pouted until a muscular arm moved around him and lit the cigarette.

"Thanks." He mumbled, looking at the curly haired male.

"You did that?" He asked, taking a seat beside the older teen. (Y/N) nodded.

"It's dope, shit looks professional." (Y/N) chuckled, eyeing the man.

"Yeah, I got inspired by an 'ex', I guess." He looked back at the art on the wall.

"You go to that high school nearby, right?" The man questioned, motioning to the Riverdale sticker on his bag. (Y/N) nodded. The man hummed.

"I suppose that shithole has some talented kids, the rest are nosy fuckers."

"You've hit the nail on the head, my friend." (Y/N) grinned, tossing the spray can off to the side.

How you gonna lie, how you gonna lie like that?

Baby, how you gonna lie, how you gonna lie like that?

How you gonna lie, baby, how you gonna lie like that?

No, no, how you gonna lie like that?

"Back onto this 'ex' of yours, what's the story?"

"He got into a bit of trouble with the school, everyone hated him for a while so he got with me to earn brownie points and then broke up with me. He's an annoying little shit though." (Y/N) told him, shrugging lightly.

"Those types are the worst. Bring out the worst in you." The man said, leaning against the wall. (Y/N) looked at him, admiring his handsome features.

"You don't look like someone from the Northside. So, what brings you here?"

"Wanted to wreck havoc but got caught up with the artistic babe." He replied smoothly. (Y/N) smiled, shaking his head.

"You've got fuckboy written all over you." (Y/N) cooed, ignoring the buzzing of his phone. "Plus, I don't even know your name, sir."

I heard you told your friends that I'm just not your type

(Baby, how you gonna lie like that? No, no)

If that's how you really feel, then why'd you call last night?

(Tell me how you 'bout to lie like that)

You say all I ever do is just control your life

(No, no, no)

But how you gonna lie like that, how you gonna lie like that?

(Oh, yeah)

"Malachai, and yours?"

"(Y/N)." (Y/N) replied, taking out his phone and seeing the texts from chuck. He rolled his eyes, muting his contact before putting his phone away.

"Will I see you again, Malachai?" (Y/N) asked with a grin. Malachai nodded, eyes looking him over again.

"Definitely." He purred in return, sending him a wink before walking to his car.

Tell me how you 'bout to lie like that

Tell me how you 'bout to lie like—

Yeah, yeah, hey

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male!reader #riverdale x you #riverdale x reader #riverdale x male reader #riverdale x y/n #chuck clayton x y/n #chuck clayton x you #chuck clayton x male reader #chuck clayton x reader #chuck clayton #riverdale malachai x male reader #riverdale malachai x you #riverdale malachai x reader #malachai riverdale

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myfanwymusings · 4 years ago

Photo

MILEY CYRUS / PLASTIC HEARTS

Below is a collection of lyric starters from Miley Cyrus’ 2020 release Plastic Hearts. All lyrics are being posted in their original wording, but please feel free to change pronouns or words to fit your purposes. Please note there are references to death, toxic relationships, drug use, alcohol, and sexual relationships. Be mindful if you are sensitive to these topics. This is reposted from my former blog.

WTF Do I Know?

I'm not tryna have another conversation

I'm the type to drive a pickup through your mansion

Pourin' out a bottle full of my frustration

Here to tell you somethin' that you don't know

Am I wrong that I moved on and I and I don't even miss you?

Thought that it'd be you until I die

What the fuck do I know?

I'm alone cause I couldn't be somebody's hero

You want an apology?

I had to leave you

Think that I'm a problem? Honey, I'm the solution

Maybe all the chaos is for your amusement

Loved it, then I hate it, and I let you go

Plastic Hearts

You can be whoever you wanna be here

I should really go home

I don't even know 'em, but they won't leave here

Pull you in, but don't you get too close

Frightened by my own reflection

Desperate for a new connection

I've been California dreamin'

Keep me up all night

I just wanna feel somethin' but I keep feeling nothin' all night long

I just wanna feel somethin'

I can be whoever you want me to be

Angels Like You

Won't call me by name, only "baby"

The more that you give, the less that I need

Everyone says I look happy

Everyone says I look happy when it feels right

I know that you're wrong for me

It's not your fault I ruin everything

It's not your fault I can't be what you need

They say that misery loves company

Angels like you can't fly down here with me

I'm everything they said I would be

Before you let go, just one more time

Take off your clothes, pretend that it's fine

A little more hurt won't kill you

You don't look happy

Prisoner

Can't get you off my mind, lord knows I tried a million times.

Why can't you just let me go?

My hands are tied

I can't control it

I’ll never escape it

I need the high

You keep making it harder to stay but I still can't run away

You keep making it harder to stay

I still can't run away

I tasted Heaven, now I can't live without it

I can't forget you and your love is the loudest

Gimme What I Want

Careful, you might hurt yourself

Pleasure leads to pain. To me, they're both the same

Pleasure leads to pain

You might be insane but maybe we're the same

You came here cause you know what I need and no one likes to be alone

Tonight you came here cause you know what I need

I don't need a future,

I don't need your past

I just need a lover

I don't need a future, I don't need your past, I just need a lover

You don't have to ask.

So give me what I want, or I'll give it to myself

I can tell that you're new to this

Give it to me, babe

Give it to me and nobody else, babe

Night Crawling

Sometimes I'm good for nothin'

Sometimes I need your lovin'

Cravin' attention under the disco ball

Gotta listen when the Devil's callin'

When it's yellin' out my name, I chase it

Sometimes my thoughts are violent

Sometimes I sit in silence

I'm running for my life

Midnight Sky

It's been a long night and the mirror's telling me to go home

it's been a long time since I felt this good on my own

it's been a long time since I felt this good

Lotta years went by with my hands tied up in your ropes

I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone

I don't need to be loved by you

See my lips on her mouth, everybody's talkin' now

Everybody's talkin' now

It ain't so bad if I wanna make a couple mistakes

You should know right now that I never stay put in one place

I don't hide blurry eyes like you

High

Sometimes I get a little too hurt

Got my mind goin' places it ain't wanna go

Sometimes I get a little too low

And you're like a neon light shinin' through a door that I can't keep closed

In my head, I did my very best saying goodbye

I don't miss you but I think of you and don't know why but I still feel high

I still feel high

Sometimes I stay up all night cause you don't ever talk to me in my dreams

I think about eventually you holdin' me and dancin' to the record like a movie scene

Hate Me

You can say it's my fault if it still hurts at all

You can say it’s my fault

I thought one of these days you might call

Drownin' in my thoughts staring at the clock

I know I’m not on your mind

I wonder what would happen if I die

I hope all of my friends get drunk and high

Would it be too hard to say goodbye?

I hope that it's enough to make you cry

Maybe that day you won't hate me

You can say that I've changed

Just say it to my face

One drink, and I’m back to that place

The memories won't fade

Bad Karma

You may think I'm ghostin', but the truth is I'm a liar

I sell you what I tell you, but you ain't a fucking buyer

They say it's bad karma when you live a double life

I've always picked a giver 'cause I've always been the taker

I'd rather just do it, then I'll think about it later

It's bad karma being such a heart breaker

I don't play the nicest but it ain't a fucking crime

I never learn my lesson so I always do it twice

I don't give a fuck

I don't believe in luck

I do what I wanna do

Never Be Me

I know I do this every time

I stop myself before the crime

I don't wanna push you way too much

I don't wanna lean that way too far

I don't wanna ever learn the hard way

if you're looking for stable, that'll be never be me

If you're looking for faithful, that'll never be me

If you're looking for someone to be all that you need that'll never be me

Hard as I try that'll never be me

I play with fire

Dry your tears now, don't you cry

I know I do this every time

I'm by your side, at least for a while

Can't get too close to the sun

Baby, you're the only one

I'd never lie to you

You give me a reason to run from the fire

Golden G String

Yes, I've worn the golden g-string

I put my hand into hellfire

I did it all to make you love me and to feel alive

I was thinkin' about my life and the questions made more questions

You dare to call me crazy, have you looked around this place?

The old boys hold all the cards and they ain't playin' gin

I should walk away but I think I'll stay

There are layers to this body.... they told me I should cover it, so I went the other way

There are layers to this body, primal sex and primal shame

I was tryin' to own my power

I'm tryin' to work it out

At least it gives the paper somethin' they can write about

If you can't make ends meet, honey, it must be your fault

We all focus on the winners and get blinded by their shine

Maybe caring for each other's just too 1969

I have too much lose so I think I'll stay. I can't walk away

I have too much lose

I think I'll stay

I can't walk away

#inbox memes.#roleplay memes.#rph #rpc #miley cyrus lyrics.

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offspring-of-calliope · 4 years ago

Text

Peculiar (Newsies Fanfiction) - Chapter 2

Description: Jack just wanted to have a normal conversation but Race, Albert and Finch are impossible.

words: 2041

Warning: slight period-typical homophobia (it's not explicitly stated but it's implied)

A/N: I still got no real plan for this, like there is no actual plot in my head yet but little snippets of action/moments. So, we'll see how this'll work out. Anyway, I decided to include more sidecouples, so you'll be seeing established Blush and also Redfinch but I'm not sure how slow the burn will be. Thanks for the likes on the last chapter.

I hope you enjoy and maybe leave a comment when you do,

Lélodie

-----

The back rooms of the theatre were filled with loud noises when Jack entered them. Some of the younger Newsies, who weren't too exhausted from selling papers all day, were running around, trying to chase each other. In one corner, Jack could spot Jojo, who was trying to teach Romeo and Elmer how to sew. It took him a while to recognize Race, Finch and Albert at one of the tables, playing some kind of card game. Since he couldn't see Crutchie anywhere, he supposed that he was already up on the rooftop – their usual sleeping spot – and decided to approach the card game table.

Race was the first one to notice him. “Aye, Cowboy! What happened to yer shirt?” With a teasing grin, he offered him a free chair at the table.

“An' while we's at it, what happened to yer arms?” Finch added, a concerned look on his face, while Jack was sitting down.

Confused, Jack checked his arms. Up until this moment, he hadn't even noticed the bruises which scattered them. Right in the places where he had blocked Bulky Guy's blows. He sighed. These were going to be a pain in the ass while sleeping. “Oh, that's nothing. Some fancy snob was jealous of my shirt, so he splashed it with muddy water an' another guy was tryna soak me for tryin' ta clean the rest of my body.”

The concerned look didn't leave Finch's face and he put down his cards to inspect Jack's bruises. “Ya didn't... ya know, use your powers, did ya?”

Jack wasn't exactly sure, why, but he felt guilty all of a sudden. “Yeah, I did. But in an alleyway which was all dark 'n' scary so I think, maybe that guy's been after me for longer.”

“I bet ya hit him good, too, right? I's tryna imagine his face when he realised he can't win a fight against the great Jack Kelly,” Albert said, not nearly as worried as Finch. Race looked as if he was more interested in the fight than the circumstances as well.

Finch just shook his head at Albert and Race, took his cards again and decided to stay silent. The three of them continued their game.

“Of course I's delivered him a pretty good fight,” Jack claimed, smirking. “But I have to admit, I was gonna loose. The guy was, like, really big. And then, there was this boy that jus'... He told the guy ta let me go an' he did. No kidding, I think this boy might be a charmspeaker.”

Everyone at the table glanced at him in disbelief. Eventually, Albert said, “Jack... You can't jus' accuse any person who did somethin' of bein' like us.”

“I don' 'accuse' him, first off,” Jack started but Race interrupted him.

“Yes, ya do. You do this every time. You's jus' tryin' to be a hero again – findin' a little Peculiar who ya can talk into joinin' the Newsies and comin' to Medda's.”

“Well, I wasn't wrong the last time,” Jack replied, referring to the time he invited Sniper to join them. “An' it's not like I's doing it on purpose. I just want them to be safe, ya know?”

“An' there ain't nothin' wrong with that, Jackie-Boy. But ya can't jus' walk around an' force your opinion on these people,” Race insisted. “Besides, why d'ya think that this boy that helped you has powers? Maybe he just knew the guy or somethin'.”

Jack didn't even get the chance to respond because in this moment, Finch groaned loudly. “Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me. I's lost again. Albie, don't leave me hangin', you gotta win now.”

Puzzled, Jack glanced at the cards and then at his friends. “I guess the fate's on Race's side today?” Race's power was... an interesting one, he thought. Every time he put effort into something, the universe seemed to flip a coin. Either, the thing Race was doing would go terribly wrong or turn out to become perfect. Due to the possibility of doing everything wrong, Race often considered these powers as a burden. But when he had a good run, he was on top of the world.

“Don't even ask,” Albert said, taking a look at his own cards and groaning as well.

“An' I guess that's not a good thing for you guys because you, like bet or somethin'?”

Race grimaced but suddenly, Albert was grinning. “If Team Telebrothers wins against Race, he has to tell us who's his new sweetheart.” Finch cringed at the word 'Telebrothers'. It was a word that Elmer had invented once because both Finch's and Albert's powers started with the syllable 'tele'. Albert knew how much Finch hated this invented word so he used it as often as he could.

“Oh, shut up, Al. It's not even as if I'd have a chance, even without the powers.”

Jack flashed Race a disbelieving look. “What do's yer powers have ta do with that?”

“Everything!” Race retorted and draped himself dramatically over the back of his chair. “Don't ya remember what happened when Al an' I was still a thing? It was like my powers did everythin' ta end this whole thing – which they's did in the end. It's not gonna work as long as a part of myself's makin' somethin' serious impossible.”

Jack considered this for a moment. Then, he mused, “Well, maybe Albert jus' wasn't the right one for ya.”

“Thanks, pal, that ya think it's my fault that we ain't havin' our relationship any more,” Albert said, looking comically devastated.

“Right, I mean, it was so romantic, bein' teleported by yer fella every time ya two were gonna get ta some touchy stuff,” Race responded with an affectionate eye roll and adjusted his position on his chair.

“There was a damn ceiling fallin' down on us 'cause of yer powers! Yeah, 'cause that's been so sweet of ya, Racer.”

“Me's always as sweet as honey, darlin'.” Race winked and blew Albert a kiss.

“Ya'll ready now?” Suddenly, Finch was talking and Jack couldn't help but notice how he snapped a bit during his question. He knew it wasn't fair of him but he sometimes wondered if Finch was a bit homophobic. It wouldn't be that big of a surprise, considering the general view on same-sex-relationships, but Finch was usually such a nice guy that Jack couldn't fathom him invalidating others.

He remembered the time when relationships between two boy newsies were something scary and new to everyone. Stolen kisses in dark alleyways, two hands holding each other when nobody was watching. The first one who had openly addressed the topic had been Kid Blink. There had been something going on between him and Mush for a really long time until he, all of a sudden, had raised his voice when every newsie had been hanging around in the theatre.

“Listen everybody,” he had said. “I'mma say somethin' and I's only gonna say it once. Don't think for one moment that I's not able ta notice the stares and the whispers every time me an' Mush are getting' close. I know that some of you's only curious but for those who's judgin' us 'cause they's ashamed of knowin' some queers: Every newsie who's livin' under this roof is part of a big family. Most of us didn't get ta know a life in a normal, caring family but in our family, there's gotta be only love an' respect. Ain't nobody's makin' fun of Jack sproutin' water out of nowhere or Finch movin' things around with his mind. Ain't nobody's rattin' out the Peculiars among us. It's the same with the queers. We's different but we jus' wanna live our lives like everyone else does. So if anybody has a problem with that – there's the door. Ya can either pull the stick outta your ass or loose the greatest family there is.” Silence. Nobody had even dared to move a muscle, let alone interrupt Kid Blink. That guy could be really intimidating if he wanted to. “Thanks for yer attenton. I'mma go kiss my fella now.”

After that, many others had openly admitted being queer, for example Race and Albert. Jack himself had also said that he could imagine being with a guy. Romeo flirted with anything that moved anyway. Then, there were many, many others, even some who just wanted to try and see. But there were also some, not many but still, that left that day. Some of them, they saw never again. A shudder went down Jack's spine and he dismissed the memory. This was slowly turning into a direction too painful to think of.

“So, what's you gonna do about that 'Peculiar' of yours?” Finch asked Jack.

Jack hesitated for a moment. “I'm gonna find him tomorrow. And then, I'm gonna prove ta you that he really is special.”

“Uh, looks like our Jackie-Boy here has got the hots for his saviour,” Race teased, shoving Jack slightly against the shoulder.

Jack sighed. “Oh my, why do I even put up with ya guys?”

“Come on, Jack. Ya know ya love us,” Albert said, laughing. “But Race, you shouldn't be the one to talk, you's not better than him.”

“Maybe. But still, you's never gonna know who I's been talkin' about all mornin', noon and evenin'.” With a triumphant smile, Race played his card. “I won.”

“I hate everything,” Albert said, while Finch was banging his head against the table with a soft: “Who's even surprised?”

Jack decided that it was better to let Albert and Finch suffer in silence, so he bid them goodbye and went to search for something to eat before going up to the roof. Maybe Crutchie would support him.

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0000507 · 4 years ago

Text

Into the Spider-verse, but make it about the Umbrella Academy

Album challenge: Umbrella Academy Edition, i.e. I take a songlist and try and attribute each song to a character.

Song lyrics and (my personal, probably inaccurate) character analysis under the cut. Fair warning, long ass post is long.

So I’m starting this challenge with the Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse album because I’ve been listening to it (a lot) lately.

01. What’s Up Danger by Blackway & Black Caviar is, to me, very much a Five song. Like, just check out these lyrics:

Ayy, gettin' old, they doubted us Makes it that more marvelous … Two-hundred miles-per-hour wit' a blindfold on (on) Mama always askin', "Where did I go wrong?" (wrong) What's up, danger? Ah, what's up, danger? Traveled two-hundred miles, I'm knockin' at your door And I don't really care if you ain't done wrong, come on What's up, danger? (Danger) D-don't be a stranger (stranger) I like it when trouble brews, I won't dare change I like it when there's turbulence on my airplanes I like it when I sense things I can't see yet Swimmin' with sharks when they ain't feed yet 'Cause I like high chances that I might lose I like it all on the edge just like you, ayy I like tall buildings so I can leap off of 'em I go hard wit' it no matter how dark it is If I'm crazy, I'm on my own If I'm waitin', it's on my throne If I sound lazy, just ignore my tone 'Cause I'm always gonna answer when you call my phone Like, what's up, danger? (Danger) Like, what's up, danger? Can't stop me now I said, "I got you now" I'm right here at your door I won't leave, I want more What's up, danger?

02. Next up we have Sunflower by Post Malone & Swae Lee which, to be honest, gives me such heavy Vanya vibes I can’t even. More so due to the song itself than the lyrics, but they’re still pretty accurate. That smooth af sound, tho.

Give me a reason to (to, to) Oh, every time I'm walkin' out (ayy) I can hear you tellin' me to turn around Fightin' for my trust and you won't back down Even if we gotta risk it all right now, oh (now) I know you're scared of the unknown (known) You don't wanna be alone (alone) I know I always come and go (and go) But it's out of my control And you'll be left in the dust Unless I stuck by ya

03. Next we have Way Up by Jaden Smith, which, despite being a boppin’ song, really didn’t remind me of anyone in particular until I really sat down and read the lyrics. So I’m going to attribute this one (tentatively) to all of the seven, though I’m leaning a little heavier towards Luther than the rest.

I went from boy to a man, wow (man) Opposition had to stand down Man I had to make a perfect plan, now I'm on the wave (Wave, wave, wave) I had to fight for the city (for the city) I had to fight for the people (for the people) You gotta do what all leaders do (go) Everyone here, we believe in you (yeah) Know you can be a hero 'cause we seen you do it (woo) And this is the time that we needin' you (you) Everyone is here to see you move (move) Winnin', we winnin', we winnin' (we winnin') We put a world on a wave (wave) And every time you swinging through the city You are the saving the day (let's go) ... We had to fight for the town (town) Now there's no villains allowed ('lowed) Everyone cheer in the crowd But I'm still way up, I'm over the clouds (clouds) We had to fight for the city (city) Competition was lethal (lethal) Honestly it's no biggie (biggie) I had to do what all leaders do ... They always hate on us, but they can't do it without us Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, we out here cleanin' the streets (streets) We don't accept the defeat ('feat) We keep on going until we win (win) Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, all of 'em weak in the knees (knees) Deer in headlights when they freeze (freeze) But we keep on going until we win

04. Familia by Nicki Minaj & Anuel AA ft. Bantu is, without a single doubt, representative of all of the Hargreeves siblings. Full stop.

Father, father, unforgivable This is my house, you made it personal It's always trouble when they go too far Nobody mess with my familia Father, father, could you bless his soul? He talking crazy, I may lose control

05. The lyrics don’t necessarily fit in some places, but the general tone and feel of Invincible by Amine still makes it a Luther song in my book.

I wanna, I wanna fly right now I wanna see all my homies get down I wanna feel like I can't come down I got a dream so I can't stop now I gotta stop feeling invisible And start feeling invincible Hate feeling impossible The hardest thing is believing in your dreams Stop feeling invisible And start feeling invincible Hate feeling impossible The hardest thing is believing in your dreams I feel like a stranger to myself And sometimes that feels dangerous But I'll bet you'll see me For who I truly am, maybe not if it wasn't bland Some days I look in mirrors and I wonder who's that man

06. Start a Riot by DUCKWRTH & Shaboozey is Diego’s official anthem don’t @ me. The dude probably blasts this when he’s taking down bad guys. A bit of shade, a bit of bass, I can fully see Diego rocking to this song.

When I say, "Brooklyn, stand up" (stand up) You better just fix your posture And every hero needs his theme song So, who in here tryna You ain't got a chance, boy What you think? (Huh?) I thrown in everything but the kitchen sink (yeah) I try to be friendly in the neighborhood (okay) I know all the little grannies wanna sip they tea (yeah) And here you come, all barging in (huh?) All ugly like a brown fur cardigan We receive the monologue and the arguing I'm like who in here tryna start a riot? … If you bump that action, it don't matter Just let me know, oh, know Make way (make way) I'm comin' through With my crew to make 'em pay I don't need no super suit I'm feelin' brave Don't be a hero Turn around and walk away … Every day is like a sticky situation When evil's looking for a chance (for a chance, ooh) And I know we are the newest generation (newest, newest) We got the power in our hands

07. Hide by Juice WRLD ft. Seezyn is, for me, all about Allison and how having and losing Claire changed her as a person. This is a more sorrowful song, but I still think it fits her. Slow, more laid back, but still heartfelt.

She made me leave the thrills at home And I'm fine with it She really made me lose control I'ma let my love unfold We're just two lost souls But we're fine with it There's love at my front door, short notice You're not like the same girls I notice Think I met my soul mate Yeah, I know it When it gets dark outside In you I confide You help me face my demons I won't hide, hide Girls like you are hard to find I hope you don't mind If I give you the time of your life … Life is not the same With your pictures in my frame Now that you're here I want nothing to change You pick me up when I'm down I need you around You seen me through my darkest times Girl, is there something that you try to find? You brought meaning to my life All because of you, I do right Because of you, I have a purpose Fight for the world, because you're worth it

08. Oof, this next song. Despite having a nice little lo-fi beat and a lighter sound going on, in the context of his experiences I really do think that Memories by Thutmose personifies Ben (both the Umbrella and Sparrow versions) and, to an extension, Klaus (seeing as dead!Ben can only interact with the world through him).

My memories came back In the form of someone else … Memories It's gon' take some getting used to Memories Feel the pain when it hits you Memories Don't you ever let them fool you Don't you ever let them fool you 'Cause I know that you know that it ain't true I learned the hard way about trust About us, about us You sin and be on your high horse We're not so stable anymore What's left if I give you my all?

09. Save The Day by Ski Mask The Slump God & Jacquees ft. Coi Leray & lougotcash was a tough one, because the sound really didn’t fit in with anyone and I wasn’t really feeling it in regards to the group at large, but then I started digging into the lyrics and...

I pull up and save the day Don't want any problems, I'll be a call away I'm ready for action, fly without a cape I'm one of those ones, they'll never beat me

Okay, fair enough, this one can go into the “All” category. But, y’all, when I tell you I felt my soul ascend when I read this line:

You could still be adopted even though you a sibling

I am positive this song represent all of the siblings, now.

10. It’s time for the angst track, everybody. And let me tell you that Let Go by Beau Young Prince has the reverb, the tone, and the soul crushing lyrics for the job. It’s universal angst, too, because this could honestly apply to any of the seven.

Sometimes I don't really know myself Devil on my back, pray for me, need help Angel in the front tryna guide my steps Who do you call when you need some help? Who do you call when you by yourself? Who do you call when you feel down low? I just wanna scream, I just wanna explode … Violence in the streets, I just wanna calm the beast All these problems I'm just fightin' with myself are enemies Looking for my peace while I'm (Looking for my peace while I'm) I just wanna swing and fly away (fly away) I just wanna see a better day (yeah) I just wanna soar and never drown (never drown) I'm looking for my happiness now (now) I just wanna swing and fly away (fly away) I just wanna see a better day (a better day) I just wanna soar and never drown (drown) I'm looking for my happiness now, yeah

11. Scared of the Dark by Lil Wayne & Ty Dolla $ign ft XXXTENACION is one of those tracks that immediately hooks you, pulls you in, and then sucker punches you in the feelings. With that in mind, in both a literal and figurative sense, this song is all about Klaus.

I'm not scared of the dark I'm not running, running, running No, I'm not afraid of the fall I'm not scared, not at all Why would a star, a star ever be afraid of the dark? I'm not scared I'm not scared, even from the start I'm not scared of the dark Of the dark, mmm Tunechi I ain't never scared and I ain't never horrified I just look down at my Rolex, it said it's the darkest times I ain't never terrified, I ain't never petrified You know I see dead people, I just tell 'em, "Get a life" I ain't never scurred, I'm not sure if that's a word, but I mean every word, feelin' like, "Do not disturb, " wait … You know I can read your mind like I'm the author There's a line for tomorrow and that line's gettin' shorter I'm behind the trigger, what if I am the target? Deep sigh, a sayōnara, I ain't afraid to die It's either goodbye or good mornin', and the skies start to fallin' And I'ma shine in the darkness

12. Elevate by DJ Khalil ft. Denzel Curry, YBN Cordae, SwaVay & Trevor Rich has that kind of upbeat tone, can-do attitude, and fun tempo that immediately makes me want to see a scene where the Hargreeves siblings fight a bunch of baddies (together) to this song.

No millimeter, this is my arena I'm the black widow with a bad stinger And I'll make you scream like a bad singer I'm everything that you wanna be plus more Since there's no heroes anymore Jump out the window, then put the mask on Who the bad man that a man gotta bash on? … They will slander me, I just plan to be Somethin' powerful for my family Tried to balance life and my sanity Show a different side of humanity So amazin', keep appraisin' Save you from a home invasion Chasin' robbers from the bank … When the light shine, I go python I've fallen, on my last lifeline There's no way in my right mind My city up on my back tight How can I possibly act right? I'm Robin Hood, I'm the Black Knight I know you heard 'bout my last fight 'Cause I win, over and over again Battlin' evil, I'm hopin' to win Fightin' my demons, I'm nice for a reason Enticed with the bleedin', I'm showin' my sins How can you expect me to stay sane? Protect me My technique go X speed on high waves and jet skis I jump off this building to save these civilians My strength and my honor is trusted by children I'm ready and willing to fight all these villains No chaos or killings, my style is so brilliant … I may have lost the battle but I will not lose the war I can promise you I will not lose this time

13. And finally, Home by Vince Staples has a soulful kind of sound to it that, combined with the lyrics, reminds me that Five will quite literally do anything, endure anything, kill anything, to get back to and protect his family. It also has a kind of epic choral-esque start and finish to it that felt really nice to listen to.

This morning I woke up in a fortress of distortion I'm at war with my emotions, I'm at war with they enforcement Tryna fight for what's right and got sidetracked Where your mind at? Never mind that Can we think in a blink, you swimmin', you sinkin' You win, you leavin' a head where I've loaded my weapon I stay with my brethren, I pay for protection My prey in my sight so I'm doing what's right and not askin' no questions I wanna be home free Where's one that was lonely? But I'm ready and waitin' For my day of salvation, and I'm patient I'm coming home now I'm coming home … Right where I belong now Right where I belong They looking for saviors, I'm looking for safety They never gon' break me, take me Down on my knees, believe I'm never gon' beg or plead Yeah, I never say never, but I guarantee Gather my strength, goin' hard in the paint Paint you a picture, it's put on display I'm gonna get, they don't give then I take Can't take me down now My feet on the ground now Fight 'til I'm down now Say it out loud now Say it out loud, are you ready for war?

And there you have it. If anyone has any suggestions or questions about this challenge feel free to wander into my ask box.

- 57

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Music - Martin x Reader (Untogether)

@happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad. GIF CREDIT: X

Sequel to I’ll Name The Dogs

Author’s Note: @mandy23b - For reference, I chose “the nearest surface in one of your apartments” 😏😏😏

This one feels like its been in the back of my head a very long time but just needed the right kind of push to put it onto paper! Or mix of ingredients... either way I found them all!

Here’s another pops up on shuffle when writing and immediately latch onto it song! (Until I had a last minute song change but decided to keep some of the original lyrics!) Music - Kelsea Ballerini Losing Sleep - Chris Young

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the writing and the reader (and the dog OC I suppose!)

Premise: ‘What’s the best record you’ve ever had sex to?’ An interesting question, with undoubtedly an interesting answer. Should Jake, Martin’s newly adopted puppy, allow you to test it for yourselves...

Words: 5155

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual Banter / Sinday/Sunday Smut

_____ Feels like the radio when your tires roll into my drive Then my heart stops, like a beat drop It's a symphony when you sweet talk Make this quiet town, feel electric, loud When the lights going down Every word out of your mouth Is like music When you look at me like that I lose it My name on your lips, wanna replay your kiss When I wake up, and lay down, and stay up and make out We're not saying nothing But it's feeling something like music Before I knew your love Even with the volume up, it was silent then And now you're walking in the room all kind of smooth, like a violin Everybody else is white noise So talk to me, cause your voice Is like music Your song on my skin is like Ah-ah-ah-ah So play it again just like Ah-ah-ah-ah Your song on my skin is like Ah-ah-ah-ah So play it again My whole heart's listening to your music --- You know That I love you, let me show you We don't need to dream at all Baby so Fall into me Let me breathe the air you breathe I can take you anywhere you want to be When it comes to us Every single touch is something special... Yeah we're winning, we're losing When we're losing sleep --- You could already hear Jake’s excited barks as you pulled up to the front door of your boyfriend’s house. And yes, you did officially get to call him that now. Martin still came down to volunteer with you, and as frequently as before – so you were glad to see it wasn’t just your influence working there. You managed to keep it at least semi-professional, but it was also fairly obvious that you were a couple; and it was commented on often. Still, once other people working with you got wind that he was a painter – if they didn’t know already from seeing him work around here – his schedule was suddenly filled up with “Oh! Martin! Could you just do this!” and, given his charm, he got pretty well paid for it. Everyone loved him, and missed him when he wasn’t around almost as much as you did. It was all good for him, and you thought considering his previous relationship much needed. Also, as if the entire shelter wasn’t enamoured with Martin’s presence alone, last week he’d come jogging up to the counter and wanted to run a plan past you – “Do you think my band and I could throw a benefit concert-!?” “A what-?!” You raised an eyebrow, head tilted. “A benefit concert.” He indicated around, getting a little more excitable, “For the shelter-!” You only chuckled at that, “Martin, you’re such a babe!” Of course you thought it was a great idea, only that he should probably talk to the owner about it to get the go ahead. (No doubt she would say yes – but you were happy he was getting back to his music. You were happy to listen to him write every weekend if that’s what he wanted to do.) To which he grinned, and was about to sprint off to find her, before you pulled him back, leaning across the counter for a kiss. That was strategic, he’d only been here 30 seconds and already a couple of girls hanging around the front desk were making eyes at him. Martin’s enthusiasm only gained confidence with that, “Later Y/N!” You let him go with a smile and wave to match his; “Don’t forget there’s the big charity dog walk next week.” “Oh I know! “BYOD-!” He laughed, calling back as he ran through the reception door; “You know Jake is my secret weapon-!” That much was true. If it wasn’t everyone fussing over Martin, it was everyone fussing over Martin with Jake. You chuckled, leaning on your hands to watch him go; still in those tight white shirts, you could see those well-defined shoulder muscles and the curve of his back. You sighed gently and your eyes flicked to the girls still watching him – you couldn’t help your triumphant smirk, because it didn’t just happen here, you’d seen girls give him the same looks as you wandered hand in hand through town. An extraordinary thing to watch, in all honestly; you weren’t sure if you’d ever been with anyone that elicited that response. Martin had the look, and the style, and the attitude for it though – he never wanted the attention, but the way he was demanded it. Plus it shouldn’t surprise you, cute guy with a cute dog…? And he was yours now! You exited your car about the same time Martin opened his front door, and Jake scurried across his driveway; “Go get her!” Was said with a laugh “Oof! Okay, okay!! I missed you too!” You giggled, his paws up on your legs immediately, stooping to pet Jake before he ran back at Martin’s whistle, “How are my favourite trouble makers!” “A’right! Waiting impatiently for you!” He grinned, greeting you with a kiss, “You’re a little late.” “Ah! But the traffic was bad, and I brought treats.” “For me, or the dog!” “Uh, both of you!” You nudged Martin playfully at the very idea that you wouldn’t bring them both something. “Oooh! What are we so honoured with-!?” “Donuts!” “Fuck off-! Seriously-!? Did I ever tell you you’re the best!” He threw his arm around your shoulders, closing the door, “JAKE! We’re getting donuts!” Jake yapped excitedly as you walked through into the living room. “Coffee?” Martin enquired, as Jake tailed him through into the kitchen, leaving you to settle down and unbox everything, “That’d be nice, thank you.” “You’re welcome…!” He called. Then two seconds later, and more hushed, “Yes! Yes! I know! C’mere!” “Are we walking into town or--?” You barely finished your question before you were met with loud excitable barks, “Hush! Not yet! Calm down. Go sit with her. I know, it’s very exciting-!” Silence for a moment, “Go on, go sit with Y/N!” Then louder and to you, as Jake padded back through and sat up on the couch patiently waiting to be smothered in cuddles, “Don’t say that word-! He goes nuts!” “Noted!” You giggled, scratching Jake behind his ears, “He’s a good boy-!” Martin wandered back through, with a sigh, “He’s taking my spot!” You laughed as he set your coffee down and sat next to Jake, “Seriously, man, she’s my girlfriend – are you gonna be my wingman or cockblock me, we talked about this.” The puppy yelped and decided to lick Martin’s face instead, “Ah! Yeah-! Okay!” He chuckled, “I love ya too, bud! But it’s her I’m tryna kiss-!” You covered your mouth but couldn’t help your giggle, “Aw! He just wants love!” “He’d have you believe that I didn’t give him any!! Jake, c’mon, down!” He obeyed, earning a kiss from you; to which you of course received kisses back as you fussed him. With your attention fully on his dog Martin scoffed, folding his arms; “Oh my god, this is unbelievable!” You could only laugh again, then straightened up, “AH! But I love both of you!” “Trust me, he’ll take full advantage-! Jake, come here, sit.” Martin selected a treat as Jake obediently did so, “Good boy!” He held it out for Jake to take from him and petted his head, leaving Jake to wander off to his bed in the corner of the room. Martin beamed after him before kicking back on the sofa with a donut of his own; “AH! My girlfriend is the best, and so is my dog!” For a moment you regarded him, having just been the one complaining about Jake receiving all the attention, but decided to let it go with a roll of your eyes. You sat back with him, cuddling into his chest with your coffee, and watching Jake lie down quietly with his treat, before Martin wound one arm around you. “He is a good boy. You’ve done really well with him!” “Mhm…” Martin took a bite, “Mmm! These are good!” then swallowed, “He’s getting better. You make him too excitable, that’s my only problem.” You scoffed, “I think he has every right; he did get us together-!” Martin looked thoughtful as he ran a hand through your hair. “Yeah I’ll give him that.” Then turned to you with a smile. “However, maybe you’re giving him a little too much excitable energy about me-! They do say dogs are just like their owners!” Martin’s eyes narrowed slightly; “Are you saying it’s my fault!?” “I dunno, dog whisperer…” You took a sip of your coffee, “What’s your verdict?” His next bite was mused for a while, and he kept his eyes on you, “Well, damn, stopping him might be hard-!” Martin leant in, pulling you tight to him, kissing your face everywhere he could reach, whilst you giggled and tried to protest as best you could without spilling coffee all over him; “MARTIN! MARTIN! GET OFF!!!” Jake barked happily from the corner at the two of you laughing, which only made Martin laugh harder, and you thinking you had a case in point, before the two of you settled back into the couch together. Martin patted his lap and Jake bounded back to you, hopping up to lie on him. “Ah. See. What are we even going out for…?” Martin rubbed your back, “It was your idea!” Then you frowned, realising that beyond walking somewhere, there was no concreate plan that you knew of, “Actually, yeah babe, what did you have in mind?” “Oh…” Martin took his hand in yours lacing your fingers, before kissing them, and held the back of your hand to his lips whilst he thought, “There’s a little record shop I always wanted to take you to, even before we were together… I thought we could go buy some records?” “To listen to together?” “Mhm….” He looked back to you with those big blue eyes – puppy dog eyes if ever you’d seen them. Aw, Geez, they really are as bad as each other! “How far is it?” You nodded back to Jake – he had done extremely well, and you knew that Martin was also taking him to training classes. You knew they were helping each other out, and that only made you beam more. “It’s uh… a decent W A L K… He can’t go in, that’s the only problem, but then we can find a nice outdoor café… or park he might like-” You very nearly rolled your eyes at the phonetic spelling but noticed that Jakes ears did perk up instantly at both words “-Then we can come home. Should wear him out. He’ll enjoy not being around the same block or route too, I think.” “Okay…” You cuddled back into Martin for a moment, and he rested his head on yours, “Just let me enjoy time with my boys whilst I finish my coffee-!” Martin laughed; “Y/N! We are literally gonna hang out all day!” *** You were pleased to see that Jake was walking nicely, either at Martin’s heels, or between the two of you – to which you received a knowing look – but he rarely tangled his lead. Martin supposed the only habit he did have was running off to investigate things and sometimes whilst doing that he would pull, but Jake was still a puppy and Martin knew he’d grow out of the yanking – but he’d always be curious, some dogs just were. You made the record store in good time, and Martin found some shade to tie him up in, kneeling down; “Alright Jake, you be a good boy okay, we’re not gonna be long I promise. Sit and be a good boy for me.” Jake did so, tail wagging obediently, and Martin gave him a treat, “That’s my boy!” Then took your hand, “I mean maybe we can trail run this and think about coming back, I…” “Hush…” You kissed his cheek gently, “You’re a sweetie and you care about him, we don’t have to spend hours in the store and we can always come back, don’t worry about it.” Pink dusted Martin’s cheeks, “Well, let’s see how we do right now, huh?” as far as he knew you might have hated the store and never wanted to come back! Martin’s arm curved around your hip and you nodded, reaching out to pat Jake’s head goodbye; “Let’s go!” It was a tiny store, and you’d describe it as cramped, but it worked with the whole aesthetic, and every shelf was neatly arranged. Everything was very easy to find. Although you’d entered together, Martin and you perused the shelves alone. You weren’t sure what you were really looking for, but there was a lot of rare material in here, ranging from the plain obscure to new top 40 records in vinyl form – it was certainly making a comeback. Breathing new life into niche stores like this. As you kept flicking through the records you suddenly smirked, and slid one out, flipping it over to the track listing, biting your lip your smirk became a sly grin. “Hey, Martin!” “Mhm?” He turned back to you from the other side of the store, expression almost unreadable at the mischievous look on your own face. “What’s the best record you’ve ever had sex to?!” Your guess would be something very obscure and Australian – you knew his music taste by now. But you’d let him answer. He immediately spluttered, before laughing; “Well, what’s yours!?” “You’re not gonna answer me-!?” Martin shook his head, still laughing, “Oh God! I can’t believe you-” You flipped the record back to show him the cover, “Woah, fuck, really-!?” “Yeah - you have no idea…” He raised an eyebrow, impressed, “Okay… let me see if I can find… mine…” He pondered around the stacks for a minute, before thumbing through a couple, “AHA. Bingo.” Pulling one out and turning it to you, You couldn’t help but be a little surprised, and laughed, “Oh my god you’re such a cliché!” “OH come onnnnnnnn!” He very nearly whined, but was about to explain why it was undeniable, “This voice? – Baby, you need to try it!” You bit your lip through your smile again, the movement of your head daring him to say it. Martin caught on, and suddenly his smirk became wicked; “Well, should I get it and should we test it out!?” You were cackling before he even pointed to yours, “I don’t mind testing twice!” You left the store two records heavier, but not another word passed between you about it. Although a multitude of giggles did – before Jake started barking like he hadn’t seen either of you in years. “Oh God-! Okay, we’re back!” Martin untied his leash, “Come on, let’s find you a nice park, huh?” He barked again, paws up on Martin’s thighs and pawing at his jeans, “Yes, puppy I know! I know!” He held his hand out for yours and you laced your fingers together, before he pulled you in. Looping his arm around your shoulders, Martin kissed your forehead, “Let’s go-!” *** It was a few more weeks before you actually got to test the records out, but Martin had them balanced on top of his player ever since he’d got home. You were sitting on top of his kitchen counter, listening intently to his record of choice and deciding that cliché didn’t even cover it. Still, it was nice to watch Martin dance around the kitchen making coffee and sing softly to it. You could listen to him sing all day, and often asked him to sing a little louder when he was trying to sing under his breath. ‘Well I don’t wanna bother anyone!!’ ‘Are you KIDDING-!? With your voice-!?’ - this was a popular conversation track when you volunteered together. Nothing really changed. By now you’d been bestowed a key to his house, and you’d been here a little while longer than he had, hanging with Jake. Martin had been out painting all morning, but his afternoon was clear, and he was back. Paint covered pants and all, one clean white stripe across his left cheek that you couldn’t take your eyes off – and he’d allowed you to put a record on, as celebration of his return, whilst he made himself a coffee. The usual small talk passed between you as you sipped your own drink. You couldn’t help your eyes tracing his body – those damn tight white shirts were about to drive you insane and this one seemed even tighter than usual, allowing you to see the outline of the necklace he always wore but you’d never seen, his hair was still a little mussed from being tousled by the wind, he had a soft smile on his face and his eyes were brightly accented by the sunshine streaming in through the window. Ugh; it was almost painful. Martin turned to you, and your look was inescapable – he titled his head inquisitively, “What?” You blinked slowly, taking another sip, and whether it was the music, or you wanted to confess, or just a mistake, you ended up spilling those words from your lips “I just… I’ve always thought you looked really sexy in those pants - especially with paint all over them, and I mean, oh my god can that shirt get any tighter!?” You weren’t sure if Martin was looking at you like that because it was sinking in, or whether he was making sure you knew what you’d just said. He glanced quickly to his record player, and then smirked; sidling over to you he took one more sip of coffee before setting it down behind you, pushing his body between your legs; “Well, I could always just take it off?” His voice was low, and he placed his hands on your thighs. Blush set in on your cheeks and that immediately had Martin grinning again, his eyes looked between yours, before he leant in to kiss you. You couldn’t help but very nearly throw your drink down, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands moved from your thighs to your back quickly, and he slid your body over the counter to get your hips against his. You groaned gently into his kiss - despite knowing it was on purpose - and you instinctively ground against him, running your hands into his hair, arms tight around his shoulders, legs winding around his waist. Martin bit your lip; kisses fervent and a little on the rough side, releasing you to trail them down your jawline and neck. That only made you grip him tighter and sigh for every kiss he planted. Your breaths were already shallow and as you inhaled, all you could smell was his skin; clean sweat, fresh wood and paint, the warmth of summer changing into autumn – and as Martin worked his way back to your lips you couldn’t help but smile again at that streak of paint. “What?” You brushed your lips to his, and your fingers over it; “I think you missed a spot.” “There’s paint on my face?” “Mhm.” He grinned, “Well, that can’t be helped. Is it as sexy as the paint on my pants-!?” You laughed, “Why don’t you kiss me again and find out?” “Oh?” Martin wasn’t about to refuse you that and once again those kisses were fiery; and you wondered why the hell you’d never made-out like this before now. He tasted like coffee and chocolate, faint traces of mint lingered – either from brushing his teeth or the gum he kept in his car for ‘emergencies’; you weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you did know that if you ever asked for any the answer was “NO.” This time you nipped his lip, hands wandering under his shirt and up his back, sure he’d said ‘I’ but why couldn’t you take it off? He growled against your kiss, and in response his hands slid up under your skirt. You came to the realisation that your joke about testing the records out was about to become reality, and you suddenly wished you’d said something about how fucking sexy he was in paint flecked overalls a long time ago. There was a small yap from behind you and you broke apart slowly, making Martin sigh and turn around. You had to tilt your body to see Jake sitting a few steps behind you, eyes wide, looking at you both with nothing but love. Martin looked back to you; “Can you believe this-!? I told you!” You giggled, “Okay, I think now I believe you.” Then again you did remember his comment about cockblocking and almost snorted. Martin gave you a short, chaste kiss and left your legs – the absence of his body nearly had you whining. “No, bud, seriously, I love you but not now!” Stepping around him, Martin walked over and opened the back door. “OH! That’s so MEAN!!” “C’mon Jake, get some exercise outside, boy, c’mon!” Jake just stared at him, making you begin cackling again. Martin placed his hands on his hips; “No, seriously, outside! C’mon, c’mere!” He opened the treat box and Jake was immediately on his feet, “Come on-” Martin stepped out and you heard him run off the decking and onto the back lawn, making Jake bark happily and chase him outside, before you heard; “Good boy! Go get it!” Five seconds later Martin was back and had the back door shut and locked, you were still laughing, “You’re so bad-!” “Oh! You think that’s funny-!?” “It kinda is-!” Martin tsked, “Well, if he lets us get away with this, I’m sure he can have as many rewards as he wants.” “Get away with this?” You were still amused as he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again, harder this time. Your legs pulled him back to you, and your hands were running to his button and zipper rather than bothering with his shirt this time. “You took my offer to test this records out a little too literally, huh, Y/N?” His voice was husky and it drew a shiver delightfully down your spine. “You’re the one who said get away with this.” You smirked, tugging him back to your lips again until you were breathless, his hands back under your skirt and pulling your panties down your legs; “Don’t act like you don’t want it.” “Mmm…” Martin went for your neck again, voice low and growling in your ear once more, “I don’t think you realise how long I’ve wanted it.” That did make you blush, and for a minute you pulled away from him, and suddenly he softened, “…Oh…Oh! I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth was still open a little in shock, and you gasped; “MARTIN! Why didn’t you just say so!!” He laughed, pushing your skirt further up your thighs, and placing your hands back on the opening of his pants you kissed his neck; “Well I just did, didn’t I?!” Martin didn’t have to say more than that for you to shimmy his pants off his hips, as yours hit the floor, before you pulled him closer, hand slipping into his boxers as his tongue slipped back into your mouth. Martin groaned softly as you wrapped your hand around him, moving your fingertips teasingly he released you from his kisses. Hands either side of you he bit his lip, his back bent, body leaning into you – and you didn’t think it fair that your vocalist wasn’t about to be very vocal. You started to pump him, nice and slow, and you got to smirk as you watched the tension through his arms. Martin tried to hide that, lips to your neck again – but his kisses were messy at best, and as your thumb circled the tip he did shudder, and he finally elicited the growl you wanted to hear – reverberating wonderfully against your skin - as his hips jerked against the motion. You couldn’t help your tease of; “Good boy.” and the shot of confidence you felt at the way his cheeks flushed red. You picked up the pace, expertly sliding his boxers down his legs as you did so, giving him a groan of your own. Fuck, was this man built well. You were well aware of the pool of heat now throbbing between your legs – and moaned again as your imagination ran wild. God you wanted him so bad, and Martin needn’t have told you he did – you could see that. His hips jerked again, and this time Martin cursed – and the growl of your name made you grip him a little too hard. “FUCK-! Y/N-!” Both of you shuddered suddenly, and he took to opportunity to gain control again – hands in your hair as his lips caught yours. Tipping your body back meant you had to release him and steady yourself against his counter with a gasp. But he ground his hips into yours, this time deliberately, and it was almost unbearable; the flash of ecstasy making you whimper his name.

This time Martin smirked, he could feel just how wet you were and he didn’t see the point in denying either of you what you wanted the most. Snaking his hand between your bodies he slid one finger tentatively into you, you moaned against his lips again, this time your fingers tangling in his shirt, gripping him so tight he could feel your fingernails digging into his skin. “That’s it, baby…” He murmured, grazing his lips across your cheeks as you buried your face in his chest to suppress your moans – to no avail, of course, and Martin chuckled, because all he wanted was to hear you. You pushed against his body in an attempt to escape his fingers; the pleasure was intense and you didn’t want to climax for him too early; but he’d inserted a second finger and his thumb was now paying close attention to your clit; “Oh-! God. M-Martin-!” He chuckled, “Don’t worry, Y/N, I want you just as bad…” Your hands released the back of his shirt, only to yank him into another hot and heavy kiss by the front of it, less talk more action. Your next sentence was both demanding and breathless; “God, I am begging you! Fuck me to this album on your kitchen counter, or so help me! Martin!” He raised his eyebrows with a smirk, “I thought you’d never ask!” In one quick movement, he withdrew his fingers and pushed into you. You both immediately groaned at the feeling, and your legs latched around him again – you had a feeling you had used the right word; this was about to get very messy, very quickly. Neither of you were going to last very long, but it was gonna feel SO good. Martin kept good pace; fingers gripping your hips so hard you thought he was bound to leave marks, but your body was already singing – and when your lips weren’t locked with his, you were eliciting the most gorgeous little sighs; Martin got to keep all of those to himself. You got to give yourself a little ego boost, thinking of all the girls you’d seen staring at him who wished they’d get anywhere near close to doing this. “AH-!” Your legs tightened around him, moving him closer as every thrust pushed him deeper into you, and he hit your sweet-spot, “Yes-! Martin! Oh! Baby, don’t stop! Please!” He almost told you he had no intention of doing so; opting to nip the top of your ear instead, which sent another shock to your system – senses on overdrive. Your muscles continued to clench around him, and as you got tighter his breaths got shorter; because damn did you feel good. “Y/N-!” he panted it, and more than once – sure, he’d had sex plenty of times before this (and to this album, but not recently!), yet he wasn’t sure the last time it’d felt this good. Not to be so complete with someone – no matter how quick this was going to be. Martin could already feel the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, and your sighs were getting short and sharp – but he wanted you to finish together. He gathered your hands in his, squeezing tight as he threaded your fingers together. “Martin- I-!” He nodded, because he also knew that much just from the feel of you; “Uh huh-!” And so you came together – and you were right, it was hot and heavy. Your breathing was shallow and you had to fight yourself panting too hard, as your body relaxed. Every point of you feeling that ecstatic high. He pushed his forehead to yours gently, breathing just as hard, and not wanting to lose that contact; his body shook and Martin very nearly laughed, before kissing you again – sweet and gentle. “Y/N… I… Geez, I love you, babe.” You could swear that the fact that you felt tears spiking was to do with your high and not his love confession but who knew, in all honesty. “Oh, oh Martin! Baby, I love you too!” You pulled him back to you, for a kiss even sweeter, before pressing a tender one to his forehead and wrapping your arms around him. “Are you cryin’?” He teased, and you could almost have punched him for it. “NO! I’m happy-!” But Martin laughed, his hands rubbing your back soothingly as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck, regulating your breathing once more. He hummed softly to the record again for a few minutes, as you carded your fingers through his hair sitting there in blissful silence, then grinned; “You know, we still have a whole other album left over there, if you wanna go again…” You snorted, still catching your breath, “Oh god, will you at least give me until the end of this one-!?” Then you sat back, unravelling yourself from him; “…Why waste it all at once?” “I suppose you have a point,” He kissed you again, pulling his coffee back from behind you; surprisingly no one had knocked it and spilled it all over the counter. Martin took a sip and put it down again. “Mhm, warm enough.” Sliding it away from himself he added, “Well worth wasting a cup of coffee for.” “Gee thank-” You paused and fell silent, catching a glimpse of the back door over his shoulder and instantly freezing. “What?” He half turned, still between your legs; “OH. Shit.” He covered his eyes for a moment – of course, sitting there obediently waiting to be let back in, with his tail wagging, was Jake “You don’t think he…” Martin couldn’t finish the sentence without and embarrassed chuckle, “Oh, okay – I’m not living this down.” “Well he can’t remind you of it – you got that in your favour.” “No, but YOU probably will-!” You held your hands up to protest innocence; “I’m party to it, why would I-!?” He shot you a look, swivelling around and then promptly tripping on his pants, now halfway down his legs. Martin steadied himself and you couldn’t help but giggle, he scowled, bending over to pull then up and you bit your lip through your smirk, unable to resist. “You know, again, maybe you just wear really nice figure hugging jeans but – damn you have a nice ass.” Then Martin tripped again over his own feet, waiting a few seconds for you to get your giggles out, before turning; “You are privileged to see it-!” “No doubt-!” You grinned, but Martin strode back across his kitchen to you, gathering your panties from the floor as he did so, before giving you another harsh kiss – you groaned again, not quite as down from your high as you thought. His blue eyes were intense, but mischievous as he pulled back, and his smile triumphant; “Thought I could shut you up!” “You should be so lucky to hear my voice!” You gave as good as you got, shimmying your underwear back up your legs. “Ah, now that I do know.” Martin smirked, kissing you once more before stepping away from the counter, “Especially when it’s sighing my name like that.” This time you did blush; “Oh! Shut up and let your poor dog in!” --- Thank you for reading-! 😘💙

#Music is also a song steal from Krennic but we'll forgive him-!#Martin #Untogether #Ben Mendelsohn #Martin x Reader #Sinday/Sunday #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Jake The Dog #146 #Aria #That gif is such a Ben thing to do though - such a Ben moment #TBH this movie was probably full of 'em #Anyway - here's Martin and some successful Sex!!#...I read it back on Friday and I was like /Oh God this needs work/#So it got like 400 more words and a bit of a tidy up and I'm happier with it #Clearly ya girl was tired of writing the same kinda smut and tried something new #I'll leave it to you to decide the success rate...#UHm... Yeah!#But I'm probably gonna write about these two (three!) a little more - I really like this relationship for him :)#I keep changing what she looks like in my head but I know her NAME now at least #Musically themed - of course!

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Only For A Night

Characters: Mammon and Asmodeus (Obey Me) because I'm a sucker for Mammon being a good big brother

Warnings: None, maybe a little angsty in places, a bit of self-doubt but nothing major.

Words: 2609

Summary: Asmodeus is consumed by lust, but it doesn’t always mean what people think it does. While preparing for work, Asmo reflects on what it really means to be the Avatar of Lust, and just how tired of it he is.

Avatar.

Noun.

Meaning – an incarnation, embodiment, or manifestation of a person or an idea.

Lust.

Noun.

Meaning – strong desire.

Verb.

Meaning – to have a strong desire for a person or thing.

So many people misunderstood that word. Lust had been linked to sex since time immemorial and Asmodeus had been one of many in a long line of souls to fall prey to the misconceptions that word carried with it. He heaved a sigh, cupping his hand to bring some of the warm water up and over his bicep. Red eyes glowed as they watched the suds fall from his skin, nose twitching to inhale the scent of jasmine that was left behind - he’d have to pander to yet more of those ill-informed buffoons in just a few hours and he wasn’t honestly ready to play the part today. The moment he finished the shoot he’d be expected to attend The Fall with his entourage, to endure succubi crawling all over him and demons flocking from every corner of the club just to attach their name to his, if only for the night.

He was so tired of it.

Everybody thought the Avatar of Lust was all about sex, driven by pleasure and obsessed with appearance. To the outside world Asmo was as shallow as a kiddie pool, and nobody ever took him seriously enough to see otherwise. Well, everyone except his brothers. They were always the ones to see past the front he put up, remembered there was more underneath that mattered. He was sure there was going to be dozens of demons vying for his attention tonight, their fingers trailing his skin and their lips by his ear whispering things that made his skin crawl and his desire flare. The thought was enough to make him nauseous. He didn’t want that tonight. He wanted to sit with Satan perhaps, read a good book and exchange views on it. Maybe Mammon needed him to do his accounts again with him? Figure out how far in the red he was?

Asmo took a deep breath and sank under the water, relishing in the silence and stillness the water offered. Demons were always tempted by one sin or another, but the pull was strongest when it was a sin they specialised in. How was Asmo supposed to convince anyone he was as three dimensional as any of his brothers when the very sin he embodied set him up to fail every time? You could lust for more than just somebody’s body. You could lust for the finest wines and the best clothes, or maybe you strongly desired to travel and feel the sense of wonder that came with it. Some people lusted for attention and craved to be at the centre of it all, while others lusted for the quite seclusion of a life lived far from people, surrounded by nature and all it’s beauty. The problem was, people only ever seemed to associate lust with sex, so Asmo was bombarded with demons who wanted to seduce him and taste the pleasure he could offer.

How the hell was he supposed to say no when they appealed to the very sin he embodied? Lust was his greatest temptation in whatever form it came in and it had taken him centuries to temper his desires to the point where it was possible for him to go out and about without having a meltdown. Lust wasn’t like pride or greed. Arguably, himself, Belphie and Levi had suffered the most when it came to adapting to their sins, struggling to fight something internal that wasn’t a physical habit. Asmo felt his lungs start to burn and he surfaced with a gasp, blindly reaching for the face cloth he’d left on the side to wipe the water from his eyes.

He could remember the day they’d first come back to the House of Lamentation, the utter disgust he’d felt at seeing his room and knowing it was not good enough for him while simultaneously disgusted with himself for turning his nose up at someone’s charity towards him. He had been a good angel once, one that was admired and adored for his beauty and his generosity. Nothing was ever too much for Asmodeus to help with and when he became a demon he was supposed to just…take? It felt backward, abnormal, and that was without the constant strong desire pulling him in every which direction the minute he stepped out of their front door.

The feeling was so strong it had moved his body of its own accord. Trying to ignore his desire to go into certain shops, to smell specific flowers, to chase certain figures that were pleasing to the eye…that had felt like a giant magnet had been trying to tear his skin off whenever he tried to turn his back on the temptations. It was physically painful to avoid what he wanted, because he wanted it more badly than anything else in the Devildom, felt he might actually die if he didn’t have it. He leaned his head back, huffing slightly. All of this worry wasn’t going to do his skin any good. He’d get wrinkles, or worse, acne. The very thought made him shiver and he pushed himself out of the water to begin drying off. The sound of the water rushing down the plughole only served to heighten his anxiety, every little drop rushing away feeling like sand dripping through the hourglass, counting down to the inevitable photoshoot that would become a night on the town.

The photoshoot wasn’t something he honestly minded. He had always been adored and admired, he had never had any problem with grabbing attention and that hadn’t changed after the fall, but the Celestial Realm had admired him for the things he did for them. What could he do for the Devildom? His talents had been diminished when his Celestial powers were lost, leaving him with virtually nothing to offer the Devildom, nothing except his body. It was Mammon who had come up with the idea first to go into modelling, calling it a sure shot to make money. It filled his pockets nicely enough to suit his purpose but it gave Asmo the solution he needed to. It filled his need to give into his lust for attention, he wanted eyes on him and this was the perfect way to achieve that, but it also gave him a way to give back. He knew he was good looking, and people liked looking at beautiful things. He was a treat for the eyes, and the attention he got made him thrive, spurred him to do it more. His beauty routine and the career it spawned had quite frankly saved him.

There was always a theme to work with as seasons faded in and out and fashion designers rose to fame and fell again, so it curbed his spending habits just a little by forcing him to desire only what was fashionable in the moment to his fans. His desire to be beautiful had left him the face of many different beauty products, simultaneously satisfying his desire to have his face everywhere and to be raking in the kind of money you could only make as an influencer at the top of their game. All that money meant he could satisfy his urge to be surrounded by luxury, hence the opulent rooms he’d designed for himself. No, his beauty routine, his photoshoots, his design career even, they all satisfied his urges and kept him sane, but the social side of his life in the spotlight was draining to say the least. Sitting in his robe, Asmo stared at his reflection, dull red eyes staring back at him through damp, limp hair. He looked nothing like the Asmodeus people expected to see but the thought of the long night ahead was truly harrowing today.

It was the anniversary of their fall from grace after all.

A knock on his door made him perk in his seat but his eyes didn’t stray from the mirrors surrounding him.

“Come in?” he called out. Mammon was the last person he’d expected to see at his door today of all days, yet still there he stood, tall and lean with his shades on. He sauntered over with such confidence, a bright smile on his face as he slapped a stack of money on the tabletop beside Asmo’s makeup bag.

“Here ya go Asmo, everything I owe ya!” he was absolutely radiating pride, so much so Asmo blinked a few times to see if his eyes were mistaking him and it was actually Lucifer who had walked in instead. He didn’t bother to check the stack of notes, knowing his brother always came up good when he finally got around to paying him back.

Mostly.

Sometimes.

Honestly, today he was just too tired to check.

“Thanks, Mammon.” He murmured, reaching for his spray. He’d already used his favourite hair mask, now it was time to whip out the old heat-protector spray and his blow dryer. Mammon raised an eyebrow at him as the roar of the little motor echoed around the room, Asmo taking his time to carefully brush out each strand to get it dry and just the right kind of bouncy. He didn’t need his hair falling flat before his big shoot. Mammon didn’t leave, watching him go through the motions robotically as he put on his headband to start applying his make-up.

“Say, Asmo? You er, you feelin’ okay?” Mammon asked him. He’d taken off his shades now, blue and yellow eyes shining with concern. Asmo spared him the briefest glance in the mirror, scowling as he applied his foundation.

“Mammon! I know I’m not looking my best right now but I am still glowing thank you!” he scolded. Mammon sighed, head shaking.

“I didn’t mean that! You’re…well you look like you usually do I guess?” he floundered for a moment, making Asmo beam at him amusedly.

“And what might that look like?” he purred, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at his brother through the mirror. Mammon jumped, the weight of his stare proving too much. Asmo just couldn’t help himself, not when Mammon was so easy to fluster. Only Levi could outrank Mammon when it came to who blushed the quickest. Mammon folded his arms, weight rolling from hip to hip as he fidgeted.

“Ah forget it will ya? I was tryna be nice but if you’re gonna be like that…I just thought you might wanna talk about something.” He grumbled, turning on his heel to leave. Asmo’s smile fell slowly, watching Mammon get further and further away from him. His brother, the Avatar of Greed of all people, was concerned enough for his welfare to ask about him? How many people could he say that for?

“Mammon.” His name had escaped his lips before he could really think about, his hands falling into his lap as he ducked his gaze. “Maybe I do want to talk about it.” He said quietly. Mammon paused at the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before he trundled back over and took a seat on the raised edge of his bath.

“Sure! Sure ya can talk to me! I’m the GREAT Mammon after all, great at listening. I can do that.” Mammon rambled, almost as if he was trying to give himself a pep talk. Asmo briefly questioned the sanity of his choice before turning fully on his stool and leaning back against the counter behind him with a sigh.

“I’m just so tired.” He complained. Mammon squinted, looking awfully constipated as he nodded for him to continue. Asmo realised it was a look he’d never seen before on Mammon’s face. Concentration.

“Tired of what?” Mammon prompted.

“Of people.” Asmo huffed, “I’m tired of people, Mammon. I’m tired of them throwing themselves at me and whispering all that filthy nonsense like they do. I want to just do my photoshoot and let that be that.” Mammon blinked at him, slowly processing what he had said. Not for the first time, Asmo started to second guess his choice.

“So…you don’t want to go to the after party and have a bunch of succubi throwing themselves at you?” he asked slowly, looking at him like he didn’t quite believe him. Sighing in annoyance he turned back to his mirror and reached for his beauty blender.

“I know I am incredible company Mammon but that doesn’t mean I always want to be somebody’s arm candy for the night. I’m capable of more, you know? I designed an entire fall collection once but does anybody talk about that? No! It’s all about the length of my-“

Asmo paused, searching his dull red eyes for an honest answer.

“Yeah yeah we get it!” Mammon was quick to cut him off, hands fluttering as his wide eyes looked anywhere but Asmo for a second. The Avatar of Lust was carefully starting to apply the contour lines to his face now, his eyes rolling to his older brother briefly before focusing back on his reflection. Mammon was very quiet for a while before he quietly asked,

“Is it that bad?”

“Yes.” He said softly, “If someone waved a stack of money in your face, would you refuse it?”

“Of course not!” Mammon’s answer was immediate, and then he flinched a bit. “It’d be impossible not to.” He admitted quietly, brows furrowing. Asmo knew he understood then, a deep sigh escaping him as he nodded.

“Exactly, I feel the same way when people throw themselves at me. Sometimes I really don’t want to but…it’s impossible to refuse the temptation.” He heard the flat note in his voice and tried to smile, but there was no warmth or mirth there at all. He didn’t feel glamorous at all and that was preventing him from looking the part, but he couldn’t let his fans down on this shoot! His routine and his sanity depended on it!

“Perhaps-“Mammon pushed to his feet and pushed his hands down deep into his pockets, looking bashful, “-I mean maybe I could come with ya and, well we could go get dinner or something after? Give you an excuse not to go yanno?” Asmo blinked, staring at his older brother in surprise. Had Mammon actually had a smart idea for once? It could work, if they thought he had plans with his brother. Mammon was another big name, someone who regularly had cameras on him, they’d get lots of attention to fulfil Asmo’s need for it without any of the interruptions – nobody was stupid enough to approach Two of the Seven Demon Lords while they were clearly on a private outing. Mammon however was already backtracking, clearly panicking he’d said the wrong thing, but Asmo was grinning at him now, his smile dazzling as it always had to be, should be.

“That’s a perfect idea!” he laughed, “Oh Mammon thank you! However can I repay you?”

“Pay for dinner.” Mammon said instantly, already batting away the hands reaching for him. Asmo giggled, feeling lighter somehow now.

“Of course!” Asmo wiggled the stack of cash Mammon had just paid him back with, “Ristorante Six it is!” Mammon’s smile slowly grew, head nodding enthusiastically. Asmo settled back into his makeup routine with renewed vigour. He’d need to look his best after all, for his big dinner date with Mammon. His big brother had unknowingly saved him from a fate worse than death tonight, and he was more than grateful, even if his fate had been changed only for one night.

#OBEY ME #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #asmo #avatar of lust

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betterdaysareatoenailaway · 4 years ago

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Sleep Tight For Me...I’m Gone

Lately I’ve been writing these Better Days Are A Toenail Away™️ posts in Microsoft Word, selecting all and changing the font to Garamond, which is so readable and beautiful, and posting the Word docs, paragraphs by paragraph, inside these Tumblr drafts. It makes things look nice, to my old fashioned sensibilities, but fixing errors is a time-consuming and needlessly convoluted four-step process.

First, I have to copy, then delete the paragraph containing the error. Then I open the doc. and paste the error-ridden paragraph back into Word. After I find and fix the error, I need to save it and copy and paste it back into the post. It's time-consuming because I’m not just copying a paragraph. As you can see from more recent post, what I copied looked more like a photograph of the paragraph, not the words themselves written in Tumblr’s default font Arial. For an example of this, see below. I like the way it looks like old newspaper clippings. I posted an article about how my fent dealer John Smith kept getting robbed, and had resorted to putting a machete in front of his front door as a way of preventing this, a lever of sorts, which is plainly visible in the video I posted,

So today I’ve given up on trying to make my posts look like books or zines, and have given into the Tumblr font, which is about as pretty as a horse with his snout shot off.

There are two much longer posts I’m working on right now, one about Nirvana and one about Soundgarden, respectively, and how both bands were very unlike their public perception, but those posts are taking a lot of work so I’m putting them on the backburner because today is some dumbass corporation’s day where it tries to synthesize mental health and profit and the end result is as baldly capitalist and clumsy as you would expect.

I’m not gonna name the company, or repeat their stupid fucking slogan. As far as I can tell (which isn't very far), talking about my trauma has never made me feel better. And in fact it has sometimes made me feel worse, because in telling you what hurts and scares me, I’ve given a part of myself away that I can’t get back. When you’re like me, and you’ve lost everything multiple times, sometimes the only form of power you have is how you choose, or do not choose, to tell your story. And in a world where everybody wants to tell “their truth,” silence is power.

You don’t get to know me, sorry. I’m not gonna hand you my life, both my bad and good experiences, and conclude: “Welp, that’s why I’m so fucked up. Case closed.”

Honestly, I used to be a little confused, or miffed that my former partner (who is an amazing person btw, in every respect) almost never spoke about some of the traumatic things she’d experienced in her past. I took it as a sign that she either didn’t trust me, or she didn’t think I would be a sympathetic listener, or the mere fact of my gender precluded her from sharing because I couldn’t truly understand what it was she had gone through. It’s not like I ever asked her to talk about it, but I did say, once or twice, “hey if you ever wanna talk about that stuff, I’m around.” She never took me up on it, and I let it go.

But as I watched her, and saw her life unfold, over the years we spent together, I began to realize I wasn’t exactly in any position to be telling her how to live her life or how to be mentally healthy. After all, she has found success in a number of avenues, both creative and occupational, and I’ve found neither. I'm not saying the fact that she didn't talk much about her trauma is the reason for her success. I'm saying that she's forged a better path through life than I have, and maybe I should take a cue from that.

She never told me what to do, per se. It was more like living by example. But because I’m pretty dense, and a severe addict, our time together actually sorta reminds me now of that Cornell lyric from his first record: She’s going to change the world. But she can’t change me.

I have certainly found that talking about how shitty my life is only makes me feel more shitty, not free, or unburdened, or better. If you wanna talk about your problems, and you find it helpful, more power to you. Just don’t wait for a corporation to tell you it’s okay to not be okay.

When Chris Cornell died I was so shocked. Of all the grunge icons he seemed the most stable, and he'd survived the rise and fall of two major label rock bands. If anyone had survived the media machine that chewed up and spat out Staley, Cobain, and to a lesser extent Andrew Wood and Shannon Hoon, it was Cornell. He would be the last guy to support hashtag activism like #StarbucksMyLifeSucks. Chris Cornell actually loved to fuck with the best laid plans of corporate rats. Molson once had a few promotional concerts in Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories, called Molson Canadian Rocks Arctic, with both Hole and Soundgarden playing to a crowd of flown-in grunge fans and bemused locals. But the whole anti-corporate thing grunge was known for actually came through when Courtney Love told the crowd she “use[d] Molson Canadian to douche.” Lol. Here’s a photo of Love arriving in Tuktoyatuk.

Cornell told the same people “so we’re here because of some beer company? Labatt’s?” Both artists’ jabs are funny. Cornell’s was a bit more subtle, but that’s what Cornell was like.

So today’s post is about Chris Cornell’s suicide, more specifically the media’s reaction to it. For whatever reason, when Cornell died, every single news outlet, from CNN to Fox to CBC, posted “Black Hole Sun,” as if it’s the only song he ever fucking wrote, or – and this is far worse – the only song he wrote that’s worth hearing. The problem with this is more than twofold or threefold. It's fucking hydraheaded.

Not only is “Black Hole Sun” a mediocre piece of music, it’s a complete misrepresentation of Soundgarden’s sound.

Now, I’m a huge fan of the A.V. Club series HateSong, in which public figures gleefully talk shit about the one song they hate more than any other song in the world. The Max Bemis (Say Anything) one where he talks about Nirvana’s “Rape Me” as a terrible rewrite of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is terrific, but comedian Anthony Jeselnik’s HateSong takes “Black Hole Sun” apart, and I love it. I think the best line is: I think the more I hear it, the worse it gets. AVC: After the song became a huge hit, Chris Cornell said that he’d written it in about 15 minutes. AJ: I totally believe that. I don’t believe that Soundgarden likes that song. Like, I remember Eminem once said that he knew his song “My Name Is” was going to be a huge hit because the first time he heard it he was annoyed. It’s something about an annoying song that just grabs onto people. But I don’t think that anyone likes “Black Hole Sun.” I’ve never heard of anyone who likes it. I don’t understand why it gets played so much. It’s become a summer jam, and it’s not a summer song at all. Jeselnik is right that Soundgarden didn’t think much of the song. Guitarist Kim Thayil wasn’t kidding when he disparagingly called it the “Dream On” of their live show. And Cornell himself, known for a meticulous approach to his songwriting, had admitted that with “Black Hole Sun”was “probably the closest to me just playing with words for words’ sake, of anything I’ve written. I guess it worked for a lot of people who heard it, but I have no idea how you'd begin to take that one literally.” I mean it’s obvious from the opening lines that Cornell is just playing with words and how they sound: in my eyes/indisposed/in disguises no one knows What songs would have been more appropriate for Cornell’s untimely death? Glad you asked! Cuz there’s like…fucking at least ten that would have been better. I’m not tryna be one of those “the deep album cuts are better maaaaaan,” but with Soundgarden, it happens to be true. With some bands, the single are their best work. With other bands, the singles are the hors d’oeuvres for the entrees. So what deep cuts would have celebrated Cornell’s death a bit better? Well, to begin with, Superunknown’s strange and stately closer “Like Suicide” would have worked, for obvious reasons.

youtube

“Tighter and Tighter,” a song that is actually about the moment of death and what it might feel like, is one of my all-time fav Soundgarden songs. Not only is it a creepy and prescient prediction of what Cornell’s death by hanging himself may have felt like, it’s opening line is a good description of the personification of death: Shadow face/Blowing smoke and talking wind

Another sample lyric: “A sucking holy wind will take me from this bed tonight/and bloody wits another hits me and I have to say goodbye/sleep tight for me, I’m gone/and I hope it’s a sweet ride/here for me tonight/cuz I’m feel I’m going/feel I’m slowing down.”

The morning after Cornell’s death hit the news my buddy and bandmate James told me that en route to work his phone, which was playing music randomly through his car speakers, landed on “Tighter and Tighter” and he had to pull over because he was tearing up.

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“Fell On Black Days” is another song about depression and mortality. Cornell had the following to say about the song: “Fell on Black Days” was like this ongoing fear I’ve had for years ... It's a feeling that everyone gets. You're happy with your life, everything’s going well, things are exciting—when all of a sudden you realize you’re unhappy in the extreme, to the point of being really, really scared. There's no particular event you can pin the feeling down to, it's just that you realize one day that everything in your life is fucked!

Now, if that’s not a cogent and even-tempered explanation of suicidal thoughts, what is? Why else would Cornell have admitted to being “really really scared” by his depression unless he knew what that depression could ultimately leasd to? Here’s some lyrics to “Fell on Black Days.” Dig the high literary use of “whomsoever” and “whatsoever.” Whatsoever I’ve feared has come to life Whatsoever I fought off became my life Just when every day seemed to greet me with a smile sunspots have faded and now I’m doing time cuz I fell on black days

Whomsoever I’ve cured I’ve sickened now Whomsoever I’ve cradled...I put you down I’m a searchlight soul they say but I can’t see it in the night I’m only faking when I get it right I sure don’t mind a change but I fell on black days how would I know that this could be my fate?

youtube

Eagle-eared listeners might think this version different from the album version. They are right. The rendition in the video was recorded live off the floor @ Bad Animals, the Seattle studio owned by Heart, where Soundgarden would record Down on the Upside.

“Boot Camp” is a scary meditation about loss of agency that for years was tied with Zeppelin’s “I'm Gonna Crawl” for Creepiest Song to Cap a Discography, until Soundgarden reunited and released King Animal.

“Taree” is about ghost light, influencing events after dying and features Cornell’s most exhausted, convincing “yeah” @ 2:57.

“Applebite” is a Matt Cameron-penned ponderous clunker about Adam’s original expulsion from Eden. Doomy and death-laden.

“Let Me Drown” is a song about letting someone die.

“The Day I Tried To Live” is frequently cited as Soundgarden’s finest achievement, its odd time signature somehow sounds straight, thanks to Matt Cameron’s brilliant time keeping.

youtube

“4th of July” is a song about a post apocalyptic urban landscape, where the speaker isn’t sure whether he is seeing fireworks or bombs.

“Limo Wreck” is a cool death song and has an eerie 9-11 prediction. “Building the towers belongs to the sky/when the whole thing comes crashing down don’t ask me why.”

ANY of the above songs would have been better than that fucking asinine dirge-like major key fuckaround that has somehow not just become Soundgarden's signature song...but their ONLY song.

Does nobody remember Johnny Cash covering “Rusty Cage?”

youtube

“Outshined?”

“Burden In My Hand?”

“Blow Up The Outside World?”

Did none of these other songs get stuck in the electric head? (The electric head is Rob Zombie’s term for the technologically advanced culture we have found ourselves enmeshed in, or imprisoned by. It was the subtitle for White Zombie’s 1995 hit album Astro-Creep 2000: Songs of Love, Destruction, and other Synthetic Delusions of the Electric Head.)

For my money (which ain’t much honey), the song that best fits both Cornell’s artistic integrity and the sad circumstances of his suicide is “Tighter and Tighter.” I once wrote a whole article on the way artists use “yeah” as a placeholder or as a way to convey emotion when words themselves aren’t adequate. Dig that tired, world-weary exhausted “yeah” at 5:35 of “Tighter & Tighter.”

Or the creepy line going into the first chorus: remember this...remember everything’s just black or burning sun. Not that I agree with such a bleak worldview. It’s a writer’s line. And Randy Bachman has said, “when you’re a writer, you’d step over your own mother.” That’s the Cornell I want to remember. Not that he would step over his own mother. By all accounts he was a committed family man. I mean, I want to remember the Cornell who created strange atmospheric sonic worlds, who explored the dark side that sadly, eventually won out. His otherworldly beautiful music is what I choose to remember about Chris Cornell, not his estate tastelessly exploiting “Black Hole Sun” by using a line from the song to title a posthumous Cornell album of covers No One Sings Like You Anymore. Sigh.

First Cornell’s widow said this was “Chris’s last album.” Okay. What about the Soundgarden songs he recorded vocals for before he died? Kim Thayil was pretty diplomatic about it when asked recently. Cornell did record vocal tracks for the follow up to King Animal.

Kim Thayil: “Given our love for Chris, I do not see us reconfiguring without him.”

But he makes it clear in this interview that Cornell’s widow Vicky has those tracks and won’t release them to the band. Maybe because she blames the band for Chris dying that night? She’s not wrong to believe that they would have known, and seen, what kind of shape Cornell was in, at least at the venue, maybe not later at the hotel.

Kim Thayil: “It’s entirely possible that a new Soundgarden album will be released. Certainly. All it would need is to take the audio files that are available. I tighten up the guitars. Ben does the bass. We get the producers we want to make it sound like a Soundgarden record.”

Interviewer: “Is there an obstacle stopping that?”

Kim Thayil: “There shouldn’t be. There really isn’t. Other than the fact that we don’t have those files.”

Interviewer: “They’re not under your auspices?”

Kim Thayil: “Right. It would be ridiculous if [the record wasn’t made]. But these are difficult things. Partnerships and...property.”

You’re just gonna keep those wav files? And why title his covers album Volume 1 if it’s his “last album?”

Oh right. $$$

No one does sing like Cornell, but is “Black Hole Sun” really the best thing he ever did? The best song he ever sang? Should an album of covers be the last thing he gives to the world?

The only honest answer is no.

Sleep tight Chris. You’re gone.

#betterdaysareatoenailaway #soundgarden #chris cornell #suicide

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strawberryamanita · 6 years ago

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Sympathy for the Devil

I'm aware this ficlet might be a little preachy, and it might run the risk of making some think I'm ruining the fun of what's going on now, but gdi I need to get this off my chest. Here we go:

The projection was turned off after Wilford gave his little spiel, and by the look on his face he was the only one amused by any of it. One giddy, smiling man wasn't really enough to bring any joy to the stoic, tired or even bored expressions on the other seven faces in the room. It was exceptionally early in the morning, but inspiration often struck Wilford spontaneously, and if he couldn't make some sort of plan or presentation before the motivation left him that idea was as good as gone. So, naturally, the seven most recent contacts on his phone got repeatedly messaged until they begrudgingly joined him in the boardroom.

Such was the way things were when you worked for Warfstache.

So, there they were, in their pajamas, exchanging looks to eachother, asking eachother in silence if they could believe this nonsense. Jim was barely bothering to keep himself awake, and had a tape recorder taking notes for him. Ed was rushed too quickly to the room to even get his glasses, and was uncomfortably squinting at the screen throughout the presentation. Google Green was in the process of sleepily plugging his body-charger into the wall, while Dr. Iplier did what he could to assist him with a half-awake helping hand. The Host was in his place, narrating as usual, but even his words were slurred and almost unintelligible with how tired he was. Bim appeared to be the crankiest of the bunch this morning, which certainly was saying something considering who was sitting at the head of the table…

Yes, though the motley crew that flanked the sides of the conference table were shuffled around at random, Dark always managed to find their way back to the head. They were the most awake, which didn't help any of the Egos’ gossiping theories that they didn't sleep. They sat with perfect posture, hands folded, completely still, as they always did. They were even wearing a clean-pressed suit, admittedly making some of the other employees a little self-conscious; Hell, even Wilford was wearing a nightrobe and slippers. Always attentive, always critical, always involved in what Wil had to say, even when they didn't agree with his doolally ideas.

They took everything so seriously. It was kind of laughable.

“So!” Wilford began, eyes alight with pride as he took his seat at the table. “Whaddya think? What impressions come knocking at the backdoor of your minds? What are your questions? Comments? Concerns? CRIES of outrage? Don't be shy, now…!”

Various, scattered groans of reluctance and hesitation floated around the room. What were they even supposed to say? Wil was always looking to improve on his ideas, bless his heart, but they were so odd and intangible that it was difficult figuring out where to begin. The Sun wasn't even fully out, how did he expect them to be awake enough for any of this?

Wilford's eyes were wide and lively as he excitedly scanned the room, looking for someone to speak up. “Nnnnnnnnnnoooobody?” he rang, the smile on his face unshakable.

I'd like to make a comment.

Even more groans came from the rest of the company when the deep, two-toned voice echoed from their other boss. Of course Dark had something to say. They always did. They always had to find a way to take up their time, and though the group's complaints rang clear, both Dark and Wil were unfazed. When Dark spoke, Wil listened, and he was always excited to.

“Darkiplier! You have the floor,” he trilled. “Please, stake your claim!”

The infallible enthusiasm in his voice almost brought a smile to the demon's stone-colored, stone-still face.

To begin with, they droned in their raspy monotone, you had a strong starting point; I have to admit, however, that you lost me somewhere down the line. Referring to the notes I've taken, you began your presentation talking about investing the extraneous income from your talkshow and television channel into other projects, but by the end of it, we were discussing, and I quote, “how much bubble soap would someone have to ingest for it to kill them”. Have I...missed something?

“My God, are you serious?”

Six pairs of eyes flew to the sneering gameshow host. Bim had been making scathing comments all morning: since it was unlike his usually chipper and quick-witted self, the others had laughed it off. At this time, however, it was starting to make the others uncomfortable.

“What's the problem, Mr. Trimmer?” asked Wilford, eager to settle any confusion as best he could.

“What's the problem? The problem is, these conferences are getting ridiculous.” He glared at Dark, who again appeared unaffected by his sudden desire to go on a tangent.

“What are you doing, Dark? Why are you entertaining this bullshit? We all know you have better things to do.”

...Because that's the reason for the meeting? Dark responded, confused at the younger Ego's confusion.

“Oh, come on, man, don't try and pretend you're following along. You're just as aware as anyone else here that this shouldn't be taken seriously.”

Wilford pouted. “Well, hey, now…”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Warfstache, this actually isn't really even about the meeting. You say whatever stupid shit you want --”

“Hey!”

The others in the group began to speak up, their protests overlapping, but Bim's voice still cut through the air to get to Dark, and they could hear every word.

“--I'm talking about you. What game are you playing here, huh?”

...I'm...not--

“Don't say you're not. Don't act like any of us are still blind to this. What part of your scheme is this for? We all know you don't actually care about any of this --”

“Bim, you need to stop--”

“-- so what're you even here for? Why are you not locked up in your room, like you always are, brooding and plotting your rampage of revenge? Isn't this getting in the way of all that? What kind of trick are you tryna pull?”

When Bim was finished with his outburst, all that could be heard was The Host's muttering and the soft ringing surrounding the accused's form. Wil was alert and angry, his eyes flickering between the two, getting ready to break them up if things got ugly. Everybody else more or less braced for impact. Did Bim have a death wish? What did he think he was doing? Nobody badmouthed Dark, no matter how much they hated them; anyone who did faced dire consequences.

Dark coughed out a laugh. They were clearly surprised at Trimmer's little tantrum, but they looked far from ready to beat his ass.

Is that honestly all you think I think about? they questioned with a small smile.

“Is it not?”

Of course not.

The smile fell away slightly. If anyone had untensed even the slightest amount, they were as braced as ever for what was to come.

If I really only wanted to do away with...him... Dark challenged, don't you think I would have finished the job decades ago?

Everyone's eyes snapped back to Bim, whose face softened when he thought about their question.

Don't you think I've had every opportunity to snap his neck and be done with it?

“...I…”

I'm not here for revenge, Mr. Trimmer. There's more to my being here than that. There's more to me than spending every waking moment of my deathless quasi-existence scowling and shaking my fist. And, frankly, I'm a bit insulted that you would assume that little of me.

A few dirty looks were tossed Bim's way, and he shrank back in his seat under Dark's harmless but intimidating stare.

Have you never considered that coming to these meetings could simply be...relaxing for me? Have you never asked yourself if I ever wanted to get away from the ceaselessness of it all and just have a little fun every so often?

The shock, that had been until now just creeping onto Bim's face, hit him like a brick. What an idiotic thing to assume. What a moron he felt like.

There is more to me than who I was, they explained calmly, turning to the rest of the table. Like it or not, I am not those people. And, like it or not, I want to be seen as someone separate from them. What I've been framed as doesn't even scratch the surface to the rest of me. I am my own person, and I've learned to feel more than just pain and rage. I've grown accustomed to enjoying quite a bit of what Mr. Warfstache has exposed me to -- I wouldn't be able to get used to having any fun if it wasn't for him.

They flashed Wilford a small, lopsided small. The sickly-sweet reporter in return practically lit up like a Christmas tree, both touched that they were being this emotionally vulnerable and relieved they didn't explode over Bim's insensitivity.

So...no, Mr. Trimmer, they concluded, their expression dimming again. I'm not here with any malicious intent, and I'll thank you to not ask me that again. I am not as broken as I've been painted to be.

“Dark…?”

Their eyes floated back over to their equal. So did everyone else's.

“Thank you for your input,” Wil beamed. “Why don'cha go inside and wind down?”

Gladly.

In a flash of black static, Dark was gone as quickly as they had arrived. Wil's attention swung back around to his presentation like a boomerang.

“Alright, anyone else wanna give it a go? I wanna hear what you think how much soap is too much soap…!”

#darkiplier #my writing #markiplier #darkstache #bim trimmer #wilford warfstache #markiplier egos #the ipliers

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mama-montgomery · 7 years ago

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my boy

Word Count: 1,497

Warnings: Cursing, Implied smut, violence/abuse

Summary: Based on the song my boy by Billie Eilish.

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My boy's being sus and he don't know how to cuss, he just sounds like he's tryna be his father

I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve had an attitude all week and I know damn well it’s not my fault so why do you keep taking it out on me?” I yelled at Billy’s denim clad back, he had refused to look at me the entire way here. He stood quietly, still refusing to face me. “Everybody’s going through something, everybody’s got their own shit to deal with, Billy. Maybe if would just man the fuck up and handle your business instead of taking it out on everyone else, you wouldn’t be so miserable.” Billy snapped, he turned towards me quickly, eyeing me before raising his voice, “What did you just say?” I huffed in disbelief, “Oh, now you want to talk.” Before I could even blink, I was pushed up against the door, Billy’s hand around my throat. I grunted as my back hit the door, my nails digging into his forearm. “What are you gonna do? Smack me around like your daddy does to you.” Billy pulled me forward before slamming me back into the door. I grunted again from the force. He leaned closer to me, jaw clenched as he spoke in my ear, “Take it back.” “Fuck you.” Billy pulled his face away from my ear, chuckling darkly. He tightened his grip around my throat as he spoke, “You wanna repeat that, Princess?” His face was inches from mine. I gasped, my hands grabbing at his wrist before I clenched my jaw and looked him straight in his eyes, “Fuck. You.” He stared into my eyes for a moment before surging forward and kissing me roughly. He removed his hand from my throat and pulled me against him. I tangled my hands in his hair, kissing him back with equal force.

My boy's an ugly crier but he's such a pretty liar and by that I mean he said he'd "change"

I was woken up by the sound of my bedroom window slamming open. I jumped up, looking to see what had caused the noise. My room was dark but the moonlight lit the room up enough for me to see Billy climbing into my room. I threw my blanket off and stood angrily, “How many fucking times do I have to tell you about coming into my room like tha-” My breath caught in my throat as I got closer to Billy. There was a giant bruise on his left cheek, his lip was split and dry blood trailed down his face from a cut above his eyebrow. His shirt was open as usual but now it was ripped at the collar and half-way untucked from his jeans. For once, he looked like shit. His hand quickly swiped at his face and it was now that I noticed his eyes were filled with tears. “Are you crying?” My voice was low, not out of fear of waking my parents but out of disbelief. I had never seen him show any other emotion besides anger. He took a deep breath before facing me, his jaw clenched before he spoke, “Y/N.” His voice was soft, almost desperate. He looked me up and down. I wore nothing but a silk nightgown. “I know, I said I wouldn’t, do this anymore,” he stalked towards me as he spoke, I was too shocked to move. Once he was stood in front of me, one of his hands went around me, laying gently on my lower back. His other hand cupped my cheek, instinctively I turned my head giving him access to my neck. Both of his hands pulled me against him. His head dropped down to my neck. He breathed in my scent, nuzzling his nose into my hair before he traced his nose and lips up my shoulder and neck, stopping at my ear. “But I just, I need you, so bad.” The feeling of his breath and lips brushing my ear sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps over my skin. “Billy.” I could barely speak, he knew I was helpless to his touch but I had already told him I wanted more than late night angry fucks. “Please, baby, I’ll stay this time, okay? I’ll stay this time.” His hand travelled from my cheek to my hair, gently tugging at my locks. His other hand slid up my back, pulling my shoulder closer to him. He planted soft kisses along my shoulder and collarbone as he spoke. “Okay.” My voice was barely over a whisper but as soon as the word left my lips, he kissed me roughly, lifting me and laying me on my bed.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed.

You want me to be yours well then you gotta be mine, but if you want a good girl,

My body filled with rage. Billy was leaned against his car flirting with yet another girl. I clenched my fists, my body shaking with fury as she twirled her hair and laughed obnoxiously at whatever he was saying. She placed her hand on his bicep and bat her lashes, that was the last straw. I waited until the girl finally walked away. Once Billy had looked away, I followed the girl. As soon as she turned the corner to the other side of the school, I yanked her by her arm making her face me. “Who the hell?” I grabbed the collar of her shirt, slamming her against the wall. “Either you’re new or you’ve got a death wish, so I’ll say this only once, keep your fucking hands off of Billy. Do you understand?” “Like hell, I will.” The girl smacked my arms away before smacking me across my face. I chuckled darkly, licking the blood from my lips as I turned to face her. She looked at me in confusion before I swung my fist, my hand connecting with her face. I swung a few more times before yanking her up by her collar, slamming her into the wall again. “Do you understand!” The girl nodded her head quickly, her face plastered with fear and blood. I smirked before throwing her to the side. She stumbled before running away.

I walked up to Billy as he leaned against his car. “The hell happen to you?” Billy stood straight at the sight of my split lip. Just as I was about to speak, the same girl from earlier walked near Billy and I, her head down with her hand holding her cheek. She looked up, her eyes widening as soon as she saw me. Her eyes snapped back to the ground as she scurried off. I watched her, smirking before wrapping my arms around Billy, leaning into his chest. “Oh, nothing. Just had to teach someone not to touch what’s mine.” Billy looked down at me sternly, “Get in the car.”

I quickly got out of the car, slamming the door roughly before walking up the path to my house. Billy cut the engine before getting out as well. “Damn it Y/N, you can’t just go around beating up every girl I talk to.” I turned towards Billy, raising my voice, “Yes, the hell I can. You’re mine and I’m yours and you’d do the exact same thing if it was the other way around. Unless you really don’t want to be with me.” My voice lowered towards the end. Billy sighed looking at his hands that were rested against the roof of his car. “Wow. I guess that’s it then.” I stood there, waiting for a response. When Billy remained silent, I burst with laughter before turning and continuing up the path to my house. I stuck my hand in the air, flicking Billy off, “Have a good life, Hargrove.”

then goodbye.

I saw Billy in the hallway leaned against the wall next to his open locker. I hadn’t talked to him all weekend. He called my house back to back until I unplugged the phone. He was flirting with another girl. She giggled and fluttered her lashes at him but the entire time his eyes were on me. I opened my locker which was conveniently across the hall from his. I heard the girl speak in a hushed voice, “Don’t worry about her, I can treat you so much better.” I smirked before closing my locker and sneaking up behind the girl. I pressed myself up against her back and she gasped, frozen in shock. I spoke seductively into her ear, my eyes staring into Billy’s, “Just know that when he’s fucking you, he’s thinking of me.” I pulled away, pinching her butt making her yelp in surprise. I winked at the girl before walking away. I smirked to myself as I heard Billy huff, “Get the hell off me,” and a locker slam behind me.

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I REALLY MISS WRITING IMAGINES SO I JUST WHIPPED SOMETHING UP REAL QUICK ON MY PHONE

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery #stranger things #stranger things imagine #mama-montgomery

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