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transpunkhell · 2 years

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fuck it just posting my jargyle fic here

i dont have Ao3 so bear with me okay :,) also didnt realize how long this ended up sorry

fluff, confessions, little bit of a j*ncy breakup scene, being gay, LOTS of bong rips and endless weed ;)

Jonathan sat on the side of his bed. The moonlight cast a blue hue into his room, lighting his bedside in a melancholy manner. His face rested in his hands, slightly clammy from overthinking and the anxieties that followed. He should have been relieved, he thought to himself, but all he could do was repeat the scene over and over again in his head.

He had wanted to break up with Nancy. College was something he wanted to pursue, and he began to realize after the move to California that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work anymore. He just wasn't expecting Nancy to dump him first.

Except, he wasn't really being dumped, Jonathan rationalized to himself.

"It's not you, Jonathan, it's...girls. I think I'm more into girls. I'm sorry."

Those words looped endlessly in his mind.

It's not like he was disappointed. Again, he was sort of relieved that he didn't have to be the one to do it. It's just that the more he thought about why he fell out of love with Nancy, the more he struggled to understand exactly what his feelings were.

Jonathan dragged his hands down his face and groaned. He really didn't know how to sort his thoughts on this, and it fucking sucked. He didn't need this right now. He needed something else. He needed-

A familiar honking could be heard from outside. Immediately Jonathan perked up, donned his overshirt, and ran outside. He probably should've been quieter, considering it was almost 2 in the morning, but the persistent honks had probably woken up the entire street at that point.

Argyle continued to smash the horn even as Jonathan was sprinting towards the ever-so-familiar vehicle. He only stopped once his friend had hopped in and shut the door.

"Why do you have the van dude? Aren't you off right now?" Jonathan asked, a little out of breath from that sprint. It was somewhat normal for Argyle to show up at the house at night, but it wasn't normal at all for him to be so rowdy about it when everyone else was asleep. He was a bit of a klutz, sure, but he didn't usually go out of his way to be annoying. Maybe it was urgent, Jonathan mused to himself, though he sort of wished this could've waited until the morning.

"I forgot to turn in the keys," Argyle replied, playing with the keychains dangling from the ignition. "Plus, since you're kind of going through some shit right now, I brought you a surprise..."

Argyle reached toward the middle seats, but he seemed to struggle a little. Miffed, he cursed to himself under his breath, unbuckled his seatbelt, then twisted over to reach deeper toward the floor of the van to pull out a brand-new bong and grinder.

Jonathan was too surprised to speak, but Argyle continued. "So uh, I was gonna save this for your birthday, but I think you kinda need it now, so I'm driving us to my favorite place so we can take rips 'till the sun comes up. That cool?"

Jonathan put his hand to his forehead and smiled. "You're my best friend, man," he said. "The best."

Jonathan choked on milky-white smoke, struggling to breathe normally after taking such a big rip. He handed the bong to Argyle, who took it like he was impatient for it. He reached over to grab the lighter from Jonathan as well, and went to town. The brief moments of the lighter in action remained their only immediate light source, allowing them to see the smoke rise up the bong's neck for mere milliseconds. He held the hit in for a bit, then let it all out in a chaotic coughing fit. Trying to recover still even after passing the bong back to Jonathan, he laid down to look at the stars.

They both rested on top of the van. Argyle had parked on the shoulder of a cliffside road overlooking all of Lenora Hills. The houses, all nestled in the valley, were scarcely lit to vaguely match the starlit sky above them. It was a mildly-pretty sight as is, but it was a gorgeous scene for a couple of stoners.

Unfortunately for Jonathan, his mind could only race. The quiet gave him too much room to think about what had happened earlier, and the high only seemed to make the thoughts more intense.

Nancy coming out to him changed something, something in the way he thought about himself. The conversation repeated itself in his mind.

"How did you know?"

"...Know that I'm into girls?"

"Y-yeah."

It was insightful, learning how Nancy found out about herself. During the conversation, Jonathan focused mainly on Nancy's feelings and what she had to say. Even if they weren't together, he still loved her as a close friend and confidante. Understanding her and being there for her was important to him, more important than anything else in that moment.

But it was the way she described it, falling in love while queer. It was hard to recognize it at first, she said, but once she did, she knew she couldn't deny it. Wanting to spend all of your time with that one person, feeling butterflies when they touch you or hang a little too close for "just friends," thinking about what it would be like to tell them that you like them, and wondering the odds on them liking you back-

"Dude, are you even listening?"

Jonathan snapped out of it and looked at his friend, who was sitting back upright. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I was a little lost in thought."

"Spill it, man," Argyle punched him playfully. "Whatcha got?"

Jonathan put his hand through his hair and moved it down to nervously push on the back of his neck. He couldn't even figure out his feelings while sober, so now his words came out scrambled and disorganized.

"I think, uh, Nancy breaking up with me was good for me and all," he started. "I mean, um, I don't know. It was a good reason. Not that there really needs to be a, uh, reason, especially since I was gonna break up with her anyways. I don't know."

Jonathan lost his train of thought, but it's not like it mattered; he wasn't really saying much of anything, and he probably lost Argyle's attention way before. He took a few seconds to compose his thoughts.

"I think I've got a lot of new feelings to sort out," he sighed.

Argyle got that. He pat Jonathan on the back, causing his heart to flutter. His hand felt familiar, in a way that comforted him like a hug.

"Like...what?" Argyle asked, his stoner drawl more obvious than usual. His presence brought Jonathan's entire anxious being to a gradual rest. He knew he was safe to speak his mind here, so he took a breath and went on.

"I've been kind of looking into how I feel about other people. Romantically."

He paused to check if Argyle was still listening, maybe hoping that he wasn't. He was. In fact, their eyes met in a way that convinced Jonathan that he was getting Argyle's full attention. The bong rips were catching up to him—to both of them, really. Both of their tolerances had gone up from smoking pretty much every day, but the hits from the bong had permeated their bloodstreams in a way that the joints they shared in the past just couldn't compare to. It made Jonathan's next choice of words feel a little more emotionally weighted than he had wanted.

"I'm realizing I might not be so, uh, straight, either." Jonathan sighed and twiddled his thumbs. It should have felt good to confide in his best friend like this; he already knew Argyle was supportive of everything, especially being queer, but his anxiety sunk its fangs into him.

Worry physically manifested in his stomach, shooting toward his body's extremities and forcing the palms of his hands to sweat. His skin itched in anticipation of what Argyle would say next. He worried he was admitting this too openly, that he might've accidentally implied something bad, or even-

"Brooooo." Argyle interrupted his racing thoughts. A sweet smile appeared on his face as he continued. "I was literally thinking the exact same thing."

Jonathan straightened up. The haze in his brain made it hard for him to comprehend it entirely, but the butterflies he felt nearly made him vomit now.

"Like uh, being gay and stuff," Argyle continued. "Maybe not gay, but like...bisexual or something. I think I definitely like dudes and dudettes all the same, man...but maybe I like dudes just a li'l more."

Jonathan's mind tried to pull back instances where Argyle seemed interested in other guys. He couldn't come up with anything. Not that he needed to, of course, as Argyle's feelings were often an enigma to him, but he couldn't help but try and look for the hints. Any moments of potential yearning, specific discussions, whatever, were being sorted in his mind at light speed.

"How did you find out?" Jonathan asked without thinking. Immediate regret.

"Trust me man, you don't wanna know," Argyle coughed, having just taken another hit.

"Not true," Jonathan countered. "You're my best friend, dude. I'm really grateful for everything you do for me. I'll do the same for you."

Argyle ran his fingers through his long hair, trying to get his words together. In a moment that felt almost out of character to Jonathan, he saw worry on his best friend's face. He reassured Argyle by wrapping his arm around him. Argyle leaned in, resting his head on Jonathan's shoulder.

The physical contact felt exciting. That moment felt like it could have lasted forever. Argyle was warm, a nice contrast to the nighttime chill, and it only made him want to hold him closer. For a while, even. Jonathan mused ideas of them holding each other in ways they hadn't before, and he found himself yearning for it all.

Fuck, he thought to himself.

The realization hit Jonathan like a truck. His conversation with Nancy popped up in his mind again, as if the thought itself was hammering the nails in the coffin of his heterosexuality. He had a crush on his best friend, and he was crushing hard. Putting those words to his feelings brought a wave of dread over him.

Jonathan tried to reach back in his memories to when this crush started. Maybe it was the time they spent on the road, with the endless stretches of brown and gray in the landscape giving way to loneliness. He reached earlier to when they started smoking together, or when he first met Argyle at Surfer Boy Pizza. He remembered the beating of his heart, the shakiness of his breath, the thoughts that flooded his mind every single time they were together.

He recognized how obvious it was the whole time now, and cursed himself for the new Byers pattern of falling in love with your best friend. He ran through feelings of guilt over whether he was crushing while he and Nancy were still a thing. Was it even rational to feel guilty over this, even after they broke up? Jonathan's anxiety fell into a catastrophic spiral, enhanced by the circular thinking of a heady high.

Argyle cut through Jonathan's thoughts again, but this time it stopped him in his tracks entirely.

"It was kind of you, man."

Three seconds of silence passed as Jonathan tried to pull himself together.

"Wh-what?" he uttered, absolutely dumbfounded. His grip on Argyle tightened a little.

"Yeah man, I think you're really neat. More than neat, even. Magical." Argyle held the bong close, almost like a stuffed animal. "Like, when we smoke, I want to feel that kinda vibe forever, man."

Jonathan forgot about his breathing. He thought, Did Argyle just say he likes me? Did he just call me...magical?

He chuckled awkwardly. He instinctually dropped his head to hide his blushing cheeks, but it wasn't like Argyle could really see it in the dark.

Argyle moved away from Jonathan. He anchored his hand in his hair, body language stiffening with visible anxiety. "That's probably, totally a weird thing to say, I know. Sorry dude."

Jonathan's head shot back up, and he responded immediately. "It's not, man. I swear. I mean..."

The high clouded his better judgement, and all he could focus on was the realization that he liked his best friend. He really liked Argyle. He didn't know what he wanted, or what was appropriate to do, but it didn't seem to matter. His impulses decided to take the plunge.

"I think you're kind of..." Jonathan hesitated. "...magical, too."

Argyle's eyes widened. Jonathan could really see his face light up this time, even in the dark, and it made his heart swell with joyful affection.

"You mean that?" Argyle asked.

"I really do."

Jonathan placed a hand on Argyle's thigh. A jolt of excitement—and maybe a little bit of panic—shot through his body. He was a little bolder now than what he was used to, but he didn't care anymore.

"Are we, like, gay for each other?" Argyle blurted.

They both laughed it off. To Jonathan, it felt like a dream with how easy this was actually going. He thought he was being so awkward right now, but it was with his best friend, so none of that mattered. All that he needed right now was to keep Argyle close.

Argyle placed the bong down and rested his head on Jonathan's lap. The extended physical contact was thrilling now. He brought his hands down to gently comb through Argyle's long hair.

"Hold my hands, man," Argyle mumbled. "I just gotta see if it feels right."

"Okay, man!" Jonathan giggled and intertwined his fingers with Argyle's. His hands were big and cozy, warming up Jonathan's cold palms immediately.

Argyle chuckled to himself, and spoke up again. "Yeaaaahhh," he squeezed Jonathan's hands. "This totally feels right."

Jonathan couldn't get his grin off his face, even if he tried. As they remained close, he took in the ambience of Lenora Hills early in the morning. The first birdsong of the day echoed through the trees. Gentle winds moved past the couple and pushed their hair over their faces. A few more houses in the valley had begun to flick their lights on. The sound of his own breathing, almost in sync with Argyle's, brought a slow rhythm to the moment.

Finally, at the cliffside, with his newfound love, his mind was at peace.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things 4 #jargyle #jonathan byers #argyle #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #romance #confession

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tendertokyo · 3 years

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Hi hello

because the n in nct stands for nicotine, i will now read you what kind of smoker aura each of the boys in neo city has, as the chain smoker that i am. no one asked for this and i don't care, i just wanna see how many people agree with me lol.

(this is all for shits and giggles, don't take this too seriously, i am but a simple moron in this fandom of clownery)

taeil: tried to hit on a female woman once at some small get-together or smth, she offered him a cig, he took one drag to get on her good side and violently coughed his lungs out rip

taeyong: i feel like he smokes weed on his own every once in a while, purely to have a cathartic cry session

johnny: king of tobacco and weed, tell me i'm wrong. he is the reason all this crap started, he's that one chaotic evil friend who just offers you to try shit at parties. has made his own bong and loves it the way you'd love your family pet. cackles evilly when stoned and plants stupid ideas into everyone's heads, teaches everyone how to blow smoke rings

yuta: he buys a pack every now and then, prefers to smoke in company rather than on his own. loves a good old cig after sex though (as the triple scorpio that he is)

kun: doesn't smoke, but if he did let's face it he'd chainsmoke like a motherfucker from all that yangyanghenderychenle induced stress

doyoung: this man is so done, he doesn't give a fuck anymore. smokes those ultra thin mom cigarettes and holds them real bitchy. try to fight him, he dares you

ten: doesn't smoke. doesn't like the smell sticking to his hair

jaehyun: jeffrey y'all... we ain't even gonna talk about him smh... weed/vape combo that's all i have to say... dumbass fried half his braincells off lmao screwdriver lookin ass

winwin: doesn't smoke, lowkey judges people who do

jungwoo: confirmed he smokes, knows he looks hot while doing it. looks like he rolls tobacco but can't be sure. if he does, props to him because tobacco kicks industrial cigarette ass. king shit

lucas: also a confirmed smoker, 100% does it to look cool. doesn't hold the smoke in his lungs long enough and immediately blows it out but who cares, he looks sexy as shit. holds it all manly cause he likes it when bitches look at his hands

mark: i feel like morky mork didn't smoke at first but then he debuted 4 fucking times and was just like eh fuck it. my manz loves weed and has this weird aura of highly functioning stoner. has weird ass flavoured rolling papers. will bum a cig off of someone if he's stressed

xiaojun: doesn't smoke, never really wanted to

hendery: listen if you told me this boy tried crack i'd believe you. do i believe he smokes weed, of course i do. makes excellent brownies and that's all he can do well in the kitchen

renjun: this one has a level of rage within himself that can only point to marlboro red touch, i don't care. takes really aesthetic pics of himself while smoking to show how "artsy depressed" he is

jeno: doesn't smoke. is the friend who cleans out the ashtray when it gets too full god bless him

haechan: he's the guy who tries to prove to everyone that he smokes like a boss even though he isn't a smoker, better at holding in smoke than lucas but has no idea how to hold the damn cig in his hand, wants to impress johnny his devoted father

jaemin: rarely smokes weed but when he does it has to be in a big circle with all his friends, calls it "bonding time" and uses the excuse of being stoned to kiss and cuddle everyone despite their refusal, makes up really weird topics to talk about, at one point will just zone out and stare at the ceiling for 10 mins

yangyang: haechan 2.0, everyone thinks he's a stoner but he isn't, peer pressured into it every time but doesn't mind 'cause he thinks it fits his street cred

shotaro & sungchan: can't tell, i don't know much about them

chenle: johnny's number one student and you can't tell me otherwise. has like 7 "guys" around town he's on first name basis with. fucking weed connoisseur, can roll a perfect blunt in less than a minute. fuck i wanna smoke with him sooo bad, he'd be so much fun. wants to do stupid shit when high, not allowed access to the kitchen or the balcony for that reason. prefers tobacco over industrial cigs 'cause he's the main character

jisung: wants to try smoking weed but too anxious to actually do it. loves watching everyone else get stoned though, thinks it's hilarious

thank you for coming to my tedtalk

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

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Hi Comfy, I loved your last family fic so much. I wonder if you could do something similar but with Vesemir? So. I'm thinking, Vesemir hasn't had a chance to date because hes been too busy bringing up Eskel, Geralt and Lambert. He finally meets his childhood sweetheart, Guxart, and they pick up from where they left off. Only issue is, the witchers aren't too sure about getting a step dad!!!!!

I didn’t forget this babe 😘 however I gotta get up at 3:15 am so we’re gonna hit this one with a headcanon format bc I can crank it out faster.

I HC the boys to be teens (Eskel is 18 and Geralt is probably17- ish and Lambert is 14)

Warnings: mention of the foster system, weed, general teenage shenanigans?

Ves wants the boys to meet Guxart before they make anything ‘facebook official’ - the boys groan at this. V not cool. Big boomer energy.

Geralt does the typical ‘middle child bullshit’ and makes plans that he “just can't flake on dad! they need me there or the whole thing will fall apart!” - he’s gonna go snog Jask at the drive-in but don't tell Ves.

Eskel just sighs and takes a massive bong rip right before Guxart gets there. He knows this is gonna be a shit show. He’s got the ‘oldest kid responsibility’ tho so he’s at least gonna be there. his sense of duty is a lil twisted but he's trying his best

Lambert prepares for WAR

He paces his room fuming, he doe not like new people, nor does he like the idea that his dad gets down. he can't handle it. Geralt and Eskel were the ones to give him The Talk. Thinking about Ves??? having a boyfriend????? oh my god?????

Guxart is old fashioned. He tries to talk sports, which almost works until he reveals he’s a fan of Lambert’s team’s rival.

He tries doing the whole ‘here I brought candy’ but these boys were from the foster system before Ves adopted them and that just makes them edgy.

He tries asking about their girlfriends and Lambert just snaps “You’re gay, you shouldn’t assume.” like a dickhead

Eskel is at least amiable, or so Ves thinks. He politely laughs at jokes, nods along to stories, asks interesting questions, until Lambert makes a rude joke and Eskel fucking loses it.

Cat’s out, Responsible Eldest Child TM is baked out of his mind and Ves is furious.

Guxart goes home a little earlier than planned to “give them family time” - he’s just mildly terrified of the little one.

Geralt comes home in the middle of them getting yelled at and tries to sneak Jask upstairs and that is its own lecture

In the end, they settle for a second go on neutral turf and Lambert takes a hit beforehand this time, not Eskel.

Geralt is now ready for battle because of all the exaggerated shit he’d heard from Lambert, but he’s the quiet watching kind so he doesn’t pull anything before he’s sure.

Guxart mentions he saw a really good musician at an open mic night at the coffee shop - it just so happens to be Jask and Geralt immediately likes him

“He likes Buttercup’s singing, what asshole could like the sweet things he sings about?” - Lambert smacks him upside the head for this, but mostly because he’s tired of hearing “Buttercup this- Buttercup that”

Eskel warms up a little talking nerdy shit.

Lambert is still annoyed but stays civil at least.

Ves deadass almost cries in the car on the way home because he’s just so relieved that his three little nightmares (whom he loves dearly) didn’t drive someone he thinks he really might love away.

Lambert kinda feels bad and gives him a hug later, once the other boys had locked themselves away in their room, “Sorry dad. I didn’t think it meant that much to you.”

Ves squeezes him tight and sighs, “I know. I wouldn’t bring someone home if I thought they weren’t good people.”

Lambert has that really small voice again from when Ves first brought him in as a foster when he was 8, “I just forget sometimes.”

Cue the tearful father-son bonding moment a-la 90′s family drama

Things go much more smoothly after that

#vuxart #vessimir #guxart #vessimir x guxart #we got some wolf family drama here #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #geralt #the kaer morons #the wolf school witchers #wolf witchers #the witcher #the witcher headcanon #the witcher modern au #idk what this is #it feels like i wrote a sitcom episode?#who do i pitch this to?

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nohoney · 3 years

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I Just Want It To Be Us - 1.1

note: Part 1 of the Us series which is originally posted on my ao3 here

Us series masterlist

characters: Dabi/Touya Todoroki, Hawks/Keigo Takami

warnings: 18+, drug use, toxic relationships, cheating, angsty-ish

summary:

That question always rang through your mind every time he comes back smelling like one of his side whores and cash in his pocket. He’s your boyfriend but he’s been doing this since way before he met you, and he wasn’t going to stop just because you’re together. It was a condition that you pretty much forced yourself to accept from the very beginning because well… you really did like Dabi that much.

Dabi knows that it makes you upset but he’s not going to stop for your sake.

You know that he won’t.

1.1 ✧ 1.2 ✧ 1.3

Your mother would be so disappointed if she saw you with your current boyfriend.

“Marry a nice man, honey.”

“When you find someone to settle down with, make sure he’s the one.”

“Don’t flit about from guy to guy, it’s not lady-like.”

All these rules your mother set you up with when it came to finding a boyfriend, you knew it came from a good place in her heart. She was only looking out for you when she told you these things but didn’t she get that dating now was different in this age and time? You’re a free person and you can see however many people you want or you could see no one at all and that was perfectly fine as well.

She has a feeling you’re seeing someone but you haven’t confirmed with her. To be honest, you don’t think you’ll tell her anything about your current boyfriend. It would be for the sake of preserving her little, fragile heart. How horrified would she be if she found out her precious daughter was dating the local drug dealer in her college campus?

He didn’t like being called by his surname and he didn’t seem to like being called by his first name either. The first time he speaks in front of your intro to philosophy class, taking it just to fulfill one of grad requirements, he says to just refer to him as ‘Dabi’. It’s curious to the people who don’t know who he is already but who are they to argue with someone how they should be addressed?

So you call him Dabi.

You called him Dabi the first time you spoke to him in class, asking for notes from the day you missed before in class. You called him Dabi when he found you sitting alone in the library and he kicked your chair to get your attention. You called him Dabi the more you spent time together with him, even past the semester once your one shared class is over and final grades were submitted. You called him Dabi the first time he ever rails you on his cock in the backseat on his car.

You almost forget sometimes that his real name is Touya.

In his off campus apartment, he sits in a chair in front of the bathroom mirror and you stand behind him with plastic gloves over your hands, helping him dye the roots of his hair black. The dye stinks, you hate the smell of it, but he kind of suckered you into doing it for him this time. He promised that if you’d help him, he’d sit through one of your stupid romantic-comedy movies you’d been dying to watch for a while. But you had to tack on a condition if he was going to give you an incentive.

If Dabi watched a movie with you and wasn’t entertained by it enough, he’d always leave to smoke a joint and come back high just so that he could get through the rest of the film.

“No break of any kind unless it’s a snack or pee break, you understand me?” you tell him as you put the final layer of dye on his roots. “And no doing it before the movie starts! I want you sober when we watch it together.”

“Yeah, yeah doll. You have my word.” Dabi passively waves his hand at you as he looks down at his phone.

Your eyes casually glance down at his phone screen and see that he’s in his messages app.

Wonder if someone is trying to get him as a connect. You think to yourself as you dispose of the plastic gloves and the remaining hair dye. You’re cleaning up the hair dye tools and open the window to air out the awful smell of the dye, all while Dabi sits in his chair and stares at his messaging app. The sounds of incoming messages from his phone tell you that there’s a conversation going on but his fingers don’t move over the keyboard to respond. It’s not your business how he runs his operations.

“How long do I leave the dye on?” he asks as he stands up from the chair, putting his phone on the countertop, and literally rips the shirt off his body from the neckline down the middle. It’s just a regular t-shirt he bought to protect his skin from the dye dripping onto his body dispensable from the very beginning, but he didn’t have to make a show of it. The shirt drops to the floor in a heap and he kicks it off to the side; you are not picking it up for him.

Dabi’s hot, ridiculously hot, that’s the first thing anyone notices about him. Both his ears have multiple piercings and his nose as well sporting three studs on his right nostril. If he’s wearing short sleeves, the first thing anyone will see that his both arms are tattooed all black, save for where they end, at his hands and shoulders it’s detailed to look like his skin is being held together by staples. On any other person it would look ridiculous to you, on Dabi not so much.

He notices you staring and winks at you, but you scoff at him and push past him to exit the bathroom. “You know how long it stays on, you’ve done this plenty of times before by yourself.”

“I like it when you tell me doll.”

Ah Dabi could be so charming when he felt like it.

You roll your eyes at him but peck him on the lips. “Shut up, I’m going to order in some food for dinner today.”

“Wow, ordering in for dinner tonight. Such housewife material (Name).” Dabi pokes fun at you.

“And you’re going to be the perfect husband Dabi.” you tease back.

You’re not certain if Dabi is long-term boyfriend material, you’ve only been dating for about five months. It’s not a long period of time you’ve spent as boyfriend and girlfriend but you’ve had a lot of fun with him. Although you have to admit that part of the fun you were experiencing with Dabi was because of what he’s introduced you to.

Before Dabi, you’d only smoke a little bit of weed every once in a while or take the occasional edible to wind down. You never had your own stash of it, you’d only partake if a friend supplied or if you were at a party. There was no point in having your own selection if you didn’t really partake in it that much. You were okay with smoking from a joint or a bong every once in a while, maybe take an edible if you wanted something a little stronger than smoking flower.

After Dabi you’d indulge in the occasional gram of coke and maybe some ecstasy if you felt like you could afford to take two days off from work for the come down. There were still others you hadn’t given a try yet, like shrooms or 2CB or do a candy flip, but you were slowly working up the nerve to give them a try when you were ready. Dabi offered you a Percocet but god, never again because you were too fucked up the one time you tried it.

You didn’t really think in your life you’d be involved romantically with a drug dealer but honestly it’s not as bad as you thought it would be.

Oh yeah, try explaining that to Mom…

Dab treats you right for the most part, he’s never yelled at you or ever taken his anger out on you either since dating each other, he just sells narcotics on the college campus and he got you into it too, it’s not a big deal. It helped that Dabi took it easy on you rather than just pushing you to do more than you were comfortable with. The first time you were curious about coke, he made you a little thin line of it and it took you more than an hour to decide you were ready before finally snorting it. After that first one, he let you decide how long and thick you wanted your lines to be. He’d cut it nice and neat for you and point to which one was yours to take. Coke felt good but the drip was disgusting in the back of your throat.

Speaking of disgusting…

“Hey, it should have been long enough so wash that gross stuff out your hair and let’s eat dinner.” you called from the kitchen as you plated the takeout food that arrived not too long ago.

You and Dabi sit at his little dinner table with the television streaming some random drama for background noise. Dinner topics for the evening range from school, homework, family news if there is any, and when to coordinate seeing each other next in between classes and your part time job. Conversations go smoothly and you’re cleaning up the kitchen when Dabi comes up behind you and presses a kiss to the back of your head, nuzzling you as you wipe the plates you just ate off of. You feel a sense of dread because every time he does that it means…

“Hey, there’s a house party this Saturday and I gotta work.”

You bite your tongue inside your mouth and exhale through your nose.

He has to work so he’ll be gone for a while, has to disperse his inventory and has to please his regulars as well as find any potential new customers.

If it was just selling, it wouldn’t be an issue.

The real issue is that you know he fucks some of his female customers. No no no, they don’t just get free coke or acid or whatever they’re asking for by spreading their legs for Dabi. He still expects cash as payment, but if he thinks they’re pretty enough then he doesn’t mind getting something extra aside from money after a sale. He’s handsome so why wouldn’t someone want to hop on his lap and go for a ride?

Dabi saves you the trouble by just being upfront about it, swears to you that you’re his favorite and that he only sees the other girls if he’s making a sale, they’re just customers. He goes to them, he goes to their location and fucks them where they meet him. None of his side whores have ever been brought back to his place, not like how he lets you in so easily when you knock on his door. He doesn’t take them out or treat them sweetly like he does with you; it’s just a sale and a fuck. It still doesn’t matter to you though, it still makes you jealous. It makes you clench your jaw in anger and want to just deck him right where his nose piercings are.

You’re his girlfriend but did that title mean anything if he was still going to sleep with other girls?

Dabi knows that it makes you upset but he’s not going to stop for your sake.

You know that he won’t.

“Fine.”

━━━━✧

If Dabi gets to fuck other girls then surely you have the right to do just the same with boys right?

The thing is though is that you did one time just right before the two of you made your relationship official, you hit up an old fuck buddy of yours while Dabi was out selling at another house party in the middle of the night. He left a measly text saying not to wait up for him and that he’d see you for breakfast. It would have been sweet if not for the fact that he came to your apartment smelling like another girl, just spending just two hours with you before flitting off into the night. Two hours of him on your sofa smelling like someone else, not even offering to shower to get their stench off, and he did his best to placate you before giving up and letting you stew in your own anger.

So you hit up your old fuck buddy and you go to him, you just get straight to the point when you’re let into his dorm and fuck your frustrations out on him. You intended to go straight back to your home but angry fucking took a lot out on you so you just spend the night there instead. “Don’t cuddle me, I’ll be gone in the morning.” you tell him after patting his cheek and pulling the blanket over your body.

It’s a quarter before eight when you’re trudging back to your apartment and you see Dabi leaning against your front door. You’re going to ask how his night was but he abruptly pulls you to him and growls in your ear to, “Get in your fucking apartment… now.”

He knows you went out to get fucked, doesn’t want to know who you went to.

You and him argue for over two hours inside your home, pacing back and forth in the living room. It’s back and forth of ‘it’s just business with those girls’ from him and ‘why shouldn’t I be allowed to do it to you?’ from you. Dabi says it’s just business and they mean nothing to him, claims to you that you hurt him more because you did it out of revenge. He really got you screaming at him after he said that but he didn’t dare back down. He stands firm and so do you, that really gets him angry with you even more.

He didn’t apologize and neither did you.

You were jabbing your finger in his chest when he grabs you by the wrist, irritation and exhaustion evident in his turquoise eyes. “Don’t fucking do that to me.” he growls at you.

“Get your fucking hands off me Dabi.” you spit back, shaking his hand off your wrist. “Get out.”

“No, we’re not leaving it like this.” he insists. “We’re fucking talk about this.”

You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “No, you want to ‘talk about it’ until I yield to you which is never going to happen! We’re going around in circles! You’re not going to be sorry and I’m not going to be sorry!”

A tense stare off between the two of you for a few seconds.

Next thing you know, you’re pulling off each other’s clothes and you’re forced on your hands and knees in your own bed. The only foreplay you get is a few seconds of rough kissing and Dabi spitting on his fingers to prep you as quickly as he can. When he pushes in, it’s rough and a little uncomfortable but you’re quick to adjust to the punishing pace. He pulls your hair too hard, you backhand him in the face, he spanks you until your ass is red and aching, you dig your nails into his back and scratch achingly slow down his flesh to make sure it really hurts.

Hate fucking with Dabi was a whole new level of intensity for you but you keep up with him until it turns into slow love making.

The biting, angry dirty talk from the beginning turns into whining praises; from ‘you spiteful, fucking bitch’ to ‘my pretty, little angel’.

“Fuck babydoll, you know how good you feel? I think I’ve fucked you so much that your pussy’s shaped to take just my cock. This cunt damn near drained me dry but I still want more. Cum on my cock more, tell me how bad you want it.” Dabi whispers into the skin of your shoulder before licking a trail up to your chin and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Ugh, baby it’s so fucking good, only you know my body like this. I don’t want it from anyone else but you… shit, I’m going to cum again!” you groan as you clamp down on him once more and your pussy strangles his cock for more cum.

You fall asleep after two hours of fucking, your head resting in the crook of his neck and his arm around your shoulders to keep you close. The both of you are all fucked out but your mind is still fixated on the fight. Despite the intimate sex that’s brought you closer together after rounds of hate fucking, it doesn’t change the fact that Dabi still fucks his customers sometimes and you’re still resentful about it.

“If it makes you feel better then fine (Name), you can fuck who you want.” Dabi says to you when the both of you wake up and are pulling your clothes back on your bodies. “But know this, if you want to be in on this then you’re just going to have to accept that I’ve been doing this since before I met you and it’s not going to stop just because we’re together. So go ahead, fuck who you want but as long as you always come back to me. I always come back to you, don’t I sweetheart?”

You’re smoothing your hair down, taking in his words before looking up at him and asking, “We’re together?”

Dabi’s eyes are full of mirth as he approaches you, pulling you close to his body and squeezing one of your asscheeks in his hand. “You’re my favorite, my number one, I like you (Name). The things I do for you, what I’ve done to you, no one else gets that from me.”

He didn’t apologize and neither did you.

But funnily enough even though he gave you permission to sleep with whoever you wanted, you didn’t really have the desire to do so. He comes to you smelling like other girls sometimes and that should be your cue to go find your own rando to hump on but you just… don’t.

Part of you wonders if Dabi is happy that you don’t go around like he does despite his blessing. You’re resentful towards yourself sometimes that you don’t go out and have some fun with someone else too. He gave you permission so you should take him up on it, that makes sense given the circumstances. Apparently the only thing that was important to him was that he always be your priority the same way that you were his.

Maybe at the time you just wanted the rush of revenge and now it was different that Dabi took that away from you by giving you permission. Maybe he knew that once he gave you the green light that you weren’t going to bother anymore with seeking anyone else out.

You were certain that he was manipulating you but you didn’t have solid evidence so there wasn’t much you could do. What the hell were you supposed to say to him?

Hey Dabi you tricked me into not sleeping with other people?

Dabi did always give you a heads up at least when he was going out to sell and he always tried to make you happy when he comes back. He offers to order in your favorite food, bring your favorite bottle of alcohol with your favorite juice to chase, eat you out until you’re a quivering mess on his mouth, or nudges half of a tablet of ecstasy in your hand and says that he just wants to put on music and house roll with you.

It still doesn’t change that you get jealous no matter how many sweet things he does for you.

But you like him enough to deal with his shenanigans… just barely.

━━━━✧

“Why don’t you come with me?” Dabi asks you as soon as you’re back from work. You’re tossing your purse onto your sofa and drop your body onto the cushions, your head in his lap and seeking his warmth. His hand goes to your head to start massaging your scalp, his fingers working magic and making you groan in pleasure. “Come with me tomorrow doll.”

You roll your eyes and turn your head to look at whatever show Dabi was watching while he was waiting for you. “To watch you flourish your business? I don’t think so. I’ll stay behind like I usually do.” you scoff, pressing your cheek against his leg and sighing.

He’s never asked for you to come along before, he doesn’t need the distraction of babysitting you. You wonder what’s caused him to ask you to tag along.

“Come on doll, just come along. Odds are I won’t be coming back the night of the party and Keigo will be there tomorrow, he can keep you company.”

Ah you loved Keigo, he was the only one that Dabi really considered to be a friend to him. Maybe it was because he could keep up with your boyfriend in regards to their drug consumption but you could see that they had a bond beyond just getting high together, more than just pills or powders or tabs that keeps them together. Together they both seemed like laid back individuals but Dabi only seemed laid back due to how apathetic he was whereas Keigo was actually a chill person because that’s how he actually was, it wasn’t just the air about him that made him seem so.

You loved being with Keigo, he always spoiled you silly and made you laugh.

“I don’t know, what exactly will I get out of it?” you shrug your shoulders and huff out quietly.

Suddenly two little baggies come into your view, one filled with white powder and the other with a little pink tablet. “Is this supposed to be a bribe to get me to come along?” you ask, staring at the bags and not bothering to take them from your boyfriend’s fingertips. You won’t lie that it is a little bit tempting, just a little bit.

“Maybe so, you know that my merchandise for you is discounted doll. Nothing but the best for you, my shit is always clean.” Dabi shakes the little baggies as if the contents are going to be more enticing if he does so. There’s definitely a big truth to what he said, the quality to his inventory is nothing less than superb. It’s why his clientele always kept on coming back to him but the absolute best was either for his favorites or it was apart of his own personal stash.

You’re staring hard at the baggies and start debating in your mind. Dabi would still give it to you even if you insisted that you stay home but there was no fun in doing it alone. You had some friends that could help you kill the coke if you asked them over but god forbid they start feening, that’s when they became difficult to deal with. There was no point in you holding onto them either if you weren’t going to do anything with them right away.

Since Keigo was going to be at the party tomorrow and if Dabi was going to give the baggies no matter what…

“Alright, only since Keigo is going to be there. Nothing else.” you give in and pluck the two baggies from Dabi’s hand and sit up on the sofa. “Now how much do I owe you for your merchandise sir?”

Dabi smirks at you as he crawls over you until you’re lying flat on your back, like you’re his prey and he’s the predator. “Just your usual payment madame, if you please.”

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi #todoroki touya #bnha x reader #bnha #tw drugs #us series

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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

Text

4x10: Heaven and Hell

Then:

TFW needed a little work before they got it right

Now:

We start off right where we left off in the last episode. The angels are here for Anna. She has to die.

Uriel attacks Ruby and Dean tries to stop it. Cas starts walking towards Sam, and despite Sam’s pleas, he boops him into unconsciousness. Suddenly there’s lights and Uriel and Cas are zapped to places unknown. (Cas’s wings in the flash...emotion hearts). They find Anna with a ridiculously severe wrist wound and a mysterious sigil on the mirror written in her blood. She sent them away.

They hide Anna away at Bobby’s. Dean and Ruby bond over hex bags. It’s almost cute.

Um, Bobby’s not home because he’s in the Dominican (and I just Googled “Hedonism and Dominican” ... probably shouldn’t have). Anyway, Sam’s got exposition on Anna. This bought of psychosis isn’t her first. When she was a toddler, she was convinced her real father was “very mad -- like wanted-to-kill-her mad.” Anna interrupts their little chat.

Sam asks her why the angels want her. She has no clue. She’s upset that her parents are dead and her life has been turned upside-down. They need to find out what her deal is.

Enter PAM!

(I know I’m technically not supposed to like that bit of sexual harassment but her exchange with Sam is SO funny and cute. He’s so earnest and they play the victim card with her, but she ain’t having it and she’s going to have some fun at Sam’s expense. And Dean’s smile at the end, JOY.)

Pam introduces herself to Anna and sets to hypnotizing her. She asks about Anna’s father and Anna freaks out. Dean tries intervening and gets knocked out. Pam wakes her and Anna remembers who she is. “I’m an angel.”

Pam and Ruby are side-eyeing this “friendly” angel. Turns out Anna was Cas and Uriel’s boss in angel-land. She disobeyed, which is the worst thing an angel can do (WEEPS for future Cas.) She ripped out her grace and fell to Earth. Now Heaven and Hell want her. She’s determined to get her grace back.

“So you’e just going to take some devine bong hit, and shazam, you’re Roma Downey?” Ah, Dean, you do have a way with words (Also, dude loves pop culture SO much that Touched By an Angel is on his radar. BLESS THIS BOY.)

Sam remembers reading about a meteor about 9 months before Anna was born and Ruby responds, “You’re pretty buff for a nerd.” Get a room, you two.)

For Real Life Jesus They’re Cute Science:

Ruby apologizes for getting Sam involved with this war. She’s afraid of Alistair too. He’s no joke in Hell. She tells Sam he should send Alistair back to Hell, but he’s got to practice to do it. Sam refuses.

Anna’s star gazing when Dean returns from taking Pamela home. Dean asks Anna why the angels saved him. Dean then asks why she would want to be human. He lists all the bad things about the human condition, and she lists all the good.

Ultimately, it’s the emotions of being human that matter so much to her. Obedience and emotionless faith is overrated. Only 4 angels have ever laid eyes on God (Well...five now!) Anna complains about watching over Earth, waiting for order from a father who might never return, and Dean laughs and laughs. I really love how Anna’s story shifted to Cas. Dean and Anna give each other looks, but Sam, in all his glory, interrupts. He’s found something!

They head off for a tree in Kentucky that is probably the place where Anna’s grace fell.

They get to the tree and Anna can sense that it’s not there anymore. Someone took it.

Later, Anna’s listening to Angel Radio and hears the angels say that if the Winchesters don’t turn over Anna, they’ll throw Dean back in Hell. Dean is speechless, but Sam wants to know what kind of weapon works on an angel. Dean’s in freak out mode --they need to find an answer.

Later, Dean’s reading a book by flashlight and Anna approaches him to thank him for all that they’ve done. He brushes her sentiment aside. She ponders the thought that she doesn’t deserve to be saved (AND I need to stop and talk about how this parallels Cas in Purgatory...he thanks Dean for everything, he believed he didn’t deserve to be saved. BLAF. And Dean and Anna are more canon than Dean and Cas? I think not.)

Dean lets slip that there’s something he deeply regrets as well, and Anna takes the opportunity to reveal that she knows what he did last summer - er, in Hell. He crumbles when she tells him to forgive himself. (Narrator voice: and then he spent ten more years failing to do exactly that.)

“You are not alone,” she tells him and I remember why I like her (before a later plot twist scrubs her away). Anna MAKES A MOVE and kisses him. It IS their last night on Earth, after all. (I quietly eat the script pages for “Free to be you and me” while simultaneously high-fiving Anna for her excellent taste.)

Cut to a montage of Impala sex which cuts out all the bits of sex in a car where you’re crammed in a corner awkwardly trying to get off your clothes without kicking the other person. Anna touches Castiel’s handprint, laying her own over the lines of his fingerprints. And I know that it was likely just a way to set up the Dean-is-connected-to-Heaven parallels in this brief shining moment when both boys actually had non-dead love interests at the same time. But MAN it sure cuts me open now.

Ruby watches Sam sleep, then heads out to a crossroads. She burns her protective hex bag and Alistair appears.

Ruby offers to give up Anna in return for her and the Winchesters’ safety. Alistair has another proposal…

Uriel greets Dean back in the barn. Dean looks confused for a moment before he realizes that Uriel has invaded his dream so they can have a little chat. Commander Cas isn’t around - “You see, he has this weakness. He likes you.” Uriel reveals that he has Anna’s grace. But nya nya nya he won’t give it back.

We cut to Ruby, naked and strapped down as this show is wont to do with its demon women. Alistair tortures her with the demon knife. She refuses to tell him where Anna is...but she will show him.

Back in the barn during waking hours, Dean drinks his feelings until the doors burst open and Uriel and Castiel arrive.

Sam demands to know how the angels found them, and Castiel glances meaningfully at Dean.

Anna realizes the deal that must have been brokered: herself in exchange for Sam’s safety. We experience many sad close-ups of Dean’s self-hatred and it HURTSSSS. Anna kisses Dean and assures him that he’s forgiven.

Anna’s ready to face the angels at last. Cas apologizes, but she brushes it aside. “You don’t know the feeling.” First of all, Anna, rude.

For This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us Science:

Alistair shows up in the barn with his demon goons. The Winchesters, Anna, and Ruby skedaddle to the fringes of the barn, leaving the angels and demons to posture toxically at each other.

Fisticuffs ensue! Alistair pins Cas, growling Latin at him until Dean whacks him in the head. Anna takes advantage of the fight to have her Ariel moment.

She orders everyone to close their eyes as her own fire consumes her. It blasts Alistair away, and Castiel gently pulls Uriel away as well. Everyone congratulates themselves for their excellent plan to pit the demons and angels against each other.

Later, Sam and Dean recap their feelings at the Impala.

For Rural Roads Science:

Dean brings up something Alistair said during the fight - that he “had promise.” I finally remember during this rewatch that Dean’s been denying what happened in Hell all along. Dean starts to talk. “It wasn’t four months,” he begins. “It was more like forty years. They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you-- Until there was nothing left. And then suddenly I would be whole again. Like magic. Alistair at the end of every day - every one - he would come over . He would make me an offer to take me off the rack if I put souls on. If I started to torture. And every day I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For thirty years, I told him. But then I couldn’t do it anymore, Sammy.”

“I got off that rack - god help me I got right off it - and I started ripping ‘em apart.” The weight of the torture he inflicted presses down on him. Sam tries to reassure him, but Dean continues to rip out our hearts and leave them cold and gathering refuse in the gutter. “How I feel? This inside me. I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.”

Dean Quotechester Deserved Better:

Any chance I can dick over an angel, I'm taking it

What do they want me for? Why did they save me?

Feelings are overrated, if you ask me

When you got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass, best to get out of their way and let them fight

I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #anna milton #uriel #ruby #spn 4x10 #heaven and hell #supernatural season 4

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thevioletjones · 3 years

Note

31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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nokas-meme-den · 3 years

Text

Shit heard in Ghost Stories meme

"When this bitch kicks, I'm moving to Vegas."

"Have you accepted Jesus as your personal savior?"

"I don't care about your cat, he's probably dead."

"Principals always look like lesbians."

"When a stronger spirit appears, the weaker spirit cowers. But all evil spirits cower before Jesus!"

"Oh my, what a gifted seamstress. I hope you're not a homosexual."

"If you want something to happen, you just need to pray! And not be a Muslim. Or Jewish."

"What the fizzityuck was that?"

"Where's the damn cat?"

"These pajamas are gay."

"Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you come to the scary, isolated pay phone on the bad side of town, alone?"

"Maybe you have a hidden talent you don't know about! Like Paris Hilton being an actress! Oh, scratch that."

"THINK OF A BIG BLACK MAN CHASING YOU!"

"A car accident... must have been hit by an old Chinamen. I don't mean to be racist, but those people CANNOT drive."

"You'd be surprised just how many transgressions a filthy little sinner like you can rack up in just a day."

"Look, a little Jew boy."

"Come rub my nipples."

"Drop the Krispy Kreme, Serpiko! We need your help here!"

"My BS detector is going DING!"

"I can read. Not well, but I can read. And those letters... are BACKWARDS!"

"The weird part is, I'm not even high. Not a bit. Totally sober!"

"The internet was a blessing from the Lord Jesus to spread the word of God throughout the world, but then Muslims and pedophiles stole it and used it to lure out and seduce children like you."

"Hey, want some candy little boy?"

"You can use it if you promise not to be on the phone too long. I know how you Pagans take advantage of others."

"A bunch of somber, quiet people against a red nuclear sky near a river of blood. Wow, that doesn't look threatening at all."

"Why? Because Jewish people rock!"

"That's so sweet... in a 'you scare the crap out of me in an Emily Rose' kind of way!"

"Here, you can take pooky-poo. He used to be my man, but we broke up."

"The V on my sweater stands for 'Very Big Deal', but that's beside the point."

"Come on, jump... I SAID JUMP!"

"Yes, the animal cemetery. Hear the plot point bells going off?"

"I hope Stephen King never sees this."

"She's looking straight at us, I don't think we hid very well."

"Those 3 to 4 cardboard boxes aren't going to hold them for long!"

"Lord reveal your salvation, for I am your favorite among these heathens."

"Yo sensei Dave, what's haps on the snaps with the craps?"

"You two-timing son of a bitch! Who's gonna take care of these little bastards!?"

"Oh splinter ohhhhh!"

"Shut up. You're here, and you're an idiot."

"Years ago, people went in there but they didn't come out. Not unlike your sister."

"2.2 Celsius... Metric system. Who thought this was a good idea again? I'm just gonna put 100. No one's gonna know."

"Oh perfect, it's in Japanese. Ching chong nong ding tow! Wait, that's Chinese."

"God, can you go bomb an abortion clinic or something?"

"Creepy Japanese men can be cabbies too y'know. But women should never be allowed to drive."

"Obeying horror movie rules, I'm going to go out alone. You stay here while I go look for help."

"I'm not giving you a reach around."

"You're such a bitch."

"First we do a geographic montage to show we traveled a long way from your house. There, that should be enough."

"I'm gonna beat you retarded."

"Jesus saved my ass."

"And what a lovely little ass it is, too."

"¡NO CORRAN EN EL HOSPITAL, CABRONES!"

"Now that is some really nice animation."

"Nice rack. Mind if I make 'em a little bigger? Ahahaehehahhha boobies. Loooove boobies. Nice lips too. I USED TO HAVE LIPS!"

"Lunchtime BJ?"

"Let's see... purple, for your hair. Can't tell this was a goddamn anime."

"Okay. Stop trying to look up my skirt. IT'S A CARTOON!"

"Holy time machine, Batman, it's 1973!"

"Holy pre-Parkinson's Michael J Fox Christopher Lloyd Back To The Future plot ripoff device! Where's my DeLorean?"

"I'll grab her ass!"

"Oh damn anime, look what's happened to my eyes."

"Leo! Leo! Leo! Leo! Goddamnit! Goddamnit! Goddamnit! Goddamnit!"

"It's the chick from The Ring! I mean, The Grudge! What movie are we ripping off again?"

"Oh my god, did that spell work? You know, like the one where you write your name in an eraser? I hear the head cheerleader's having an abortion."

"Such a bitch! Stop being such a friggin' skank and give it back!"

"Sometimes yes means no!"

"Moshi moshi! I mean, hello."

"Tomomi? Ain't no Tomomi girl living here, so what?"

"Get your cracker ass into some rehab, I ain't got time for this bullshit."

"MOTHAFUCKA."

"Run! She's a ghost and a bitch!"

"I'm goin' fuckin' crazy."

"HEY! Maybe if they paid their fuckin' phone bill, you could call again!"

"Nobody's talking to you. Just drive the bus, bus driver. Fuckin' nosy."

"Oh, sorry. All you little yellow people look alike to me. And African Americans, but not the Mexicans. Why do you think that is? I mean, don't you find that just the weirdest thing?"

"Romans 1:26, God gave them over to shameful lusts!"

"A view of the blood-stained lake. AHHHHHHH"

"Oh it may be blue now, but soon it will be redder than Republican Texas."

"No, I'm serious, bitch. I swear to god. Blue."

"Maybe this vase isn't nailed down."

"We go with the snow but not the snow that is yellow!"

"Alright everybody, it's 4:30. School is finally over. Time to go home, load up that bong, and watch Pokemon!"

"Leave me alone, I'm doing my standard anime 'elbows up' pose."

"Oh wow. I can't even comprehend how inappropriate this is."

"GOD YOU'RE MAKING ME SICK."

"God you are four of the ugliest fucking kids I've ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. I can't wait for this bitch to kill you."

"NANIIIIIII?"

"Oh my, definitely a 10."

"If you do, I'll suck you all for a Scooby Snack."

"Any closer and there'd be insertion."

"I may be a successful doctor, but first and foremost I'm a Jew."

"You know what I hear? I hear the sound of you shuttin' the fuck up."

"Let's see... 7?"

"What the FUCK are you talking about!?"

#roleplay meme #sentence starters #crack meme

18 notes · View notes

britishchick09 · 3 years

Text

my little pony: a new generation livewatch

what’s even better than livewatches being back after 2 months? mlp g5 being here!!! i haven’t watched g4 since the midway point of season 6, but i’ve kept up with all the pony news on equestria daily. at first i wasn’t too excited about g5, but since more clips and info have come out, i’m pumped to get the party started! :D

the orchestra is beautiful! very disney :D

IZZY BALL!!!! :D

HOLY FRICK TWI??????? :O

YAAAAAS!!!!! :D

i bet this is the show sunny watched as a foal! :D

twilight: “we’re the guardians of friendship! with the power of our friendship we will...” pinkie: “spread love!” flutters: “give hugs :)” rarity: “FRY BRAINS!” this is so sailor mo- WAIT WHAT DID RARES SAY????

did this just turn into a pony.mov video? or propaganda?

aww they’re playing!! :D

i didn’t expect sprout to be here!

OMG HITCH DEFEND SUNNY GEEZ

sprout wants to play pegasus bbq WUT

sprout kicked the rainbow dash doll RUDE

phyllis: ”you’re brainwashing their minds!” argyle: “it’s called research, phillys. and by the way, i leave all the brainwashing to you!” OHHHH NOT YET DEAD DAD JUST ROASTED HER!!!! :D

sprout wants to ‘keep everypony in line’ when he’s sheriff BOI

aww sunny wants her dad to see the unicorns and pegasi with her! :’)

OMG THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!!! :D

not even 5 minutes in and there’s feels!

twilight is ‘as bright as the sun’! :D

besties! :D

SUNNY SAID ‘PEGASUSES’ AWWWW!!!!!! :D

beautiful! :D

argyle: “one day, we’ll figure it out... together :)” OMG FEELS :’(

OMG THEY SAID ‘HOOF TO HEART’!!!! :’(

argyle: “good night, my little pony :)” roll credits! :D

sunny to her mane 6 toys: “good night, friends.” OMG!!!! :’)

things have changed around here! :o

sunny’s hair is like anna’s bed head! :D

argyle’s death is sadder than most disney parent deaths and it’s just implied! :(

awww sunny said ‘wish me luck!’ to her dad’s photo! :)

ooh she’s a skater! :D

and this song is pretty cool! :D

sprout’s still alive :/

GEEZ HE JUST STOLE SOMEPONY’S DRINK!!! >:(

izzy? :o

;)

yay! :D

OMG THAT LONG NOTE THO!!!! :o

hey it’s hitch! :D

he’s sheriff! :D

aww he’s a critter magnet! :D

hitch: “give me some space.” the critters: *move half an inch* lol! :D

aww sunny and him have a hoofshake! :D

oh sprout’s a deputy :/

sunny tries to sneak into a show every year! :o

;)

canterlogic guy: “got any questions?” random pony: “where are the smoothies?” guy: “can’t answer that one.” lol! :D

it’s the show with propaganda devices! :o

rip balloon guy :/

hitch: “yikes, that’ll be a lot of paperwork.” omg lol!

THIS ISN’T YOUR DAY SUNNY

sunny: “let’s lend a hoof-“ *machine locks her in* “...that’s not what i meant.” lol :D

sunny trying to speak her mind while being trapped in a device tho!

DID SUNNY JUST SAY ‘EAT MY AAAAAAASS?’ :O

phyllis: “how do you think we should solve this? with hugs and cupcakes?” crowd: *laughs* pinkie pie’s about to go into a rage with that one...

omg sunny broke too many laws to count! :o

yeah sunny’s right hitch could be a good pony influence! :D

hitch: “all that unity stuff was just a foal’s bedtime story made up by your dad.” and a best selling tv show for foals in our world! :)

aww poor sunny! :’(

sunny: “...i wish you were here dad.” SAME :(

omg running ponies! :o

IZZYY!!!!! :D

izzy: “is everypony playing hide and seek? i see you!” aww! :D

hitch: “your kid is safe now ma’am!” pony: “...this isn’t my kid!” lol! :D

izzy’s never seen the sea! :D

sunny: “earth ponies hate unicorns!” izzy: “really? that seems a bit harsh!” yeah it does!

aww izzy’s skipping! :D

oh no she was captured in a box! :o

SHE PRESSED THE RED BUTTON! :o

izzy: “bye! it was nice to meet you all!” aww :D

hitch: “to the lighthouse!” sprout: *locks himself in the box* “oh no, i appear to be trapped!” hitch: “you’ve got to be kidding me.” lol :D

a smol bean! :D

aww sunny’s fangirling! :D

she has so many questions! :D

izzy’s a great balancer! :D

hitch: “you’re completely surrounded!” *he and sprout are the only ponies there* lol! :D

izzy: *sniff sniff sniiiiiiff* sunny: “what are you doing..?” izzy: “you don’t smell!” sunny: “thanks! ...wait what?” lol! :D

izzy’s so cute!!! :D

ooh izzy and sunny have a song! :D

besties! :D

this sounds so 80s! :D

pretty scenery! :D (and balloon guy in the background!)

aww!!! :D

don’t arrest sunny, hitch!

sprout has pizza! :o

unimpressed :/

THAT SMIRK THO

hitch wants sprout to ‘keep the peace’ while he’s gone... hans much?

HITCH HAS ABS AND A PAID OFF MORTGAGE???

phyllis called sprout ‘sugarcube’! :o

sprout a literally foal child :/

omg sunny and izzy are in trouble! :o

and they’re in az! :o

zipp fab af! :D

wait how is she flying without magic?

she sounds kind of like rainbow dash! :o

zipp: “don’t tell them you saw me.” izzy: “there’s no way we couuuld we don’t even know your naaaame!” lol! :D

cuties! :D

so many moods! :D

the guard collects sneakers?

:D :D

check out the sony, cbs and t-mobile parodies! :D

ooh a royal celebration! :o

news host: “an excursive vid from pipp!” a news anchor saying ‘VID’???

look at those emojis! :o

aww izzy saying pipp’s slogan! :D

the queen’s...

a fluff ball???

there’s FAB, FAB AF and... fab phone addict!

cutie pipp! :D

aww cutie izzy! :D

zipp’s like ‘no no!’ and izzy just wipes her smile away lol :D

queen haven sounds like rarity!

queen haven: “nopony must know they’re here!” pipp: *INSTANTLY LIVESTREAMS IT* BOI

the guard took sunny’s book! :o

sprout calls his mom ‘mommy’... :/

sprout: *flings open the door* citizens! *door close* “AHHH!!!” lol! :D

somepony: “we want a real sheriff!” same!

ew sprout has a song :/

WITH HEAVY METAL YO

and NAZI IMAGERY WTF

BE PREPAAAAARED!!!!!!

PIPP PERFUME AD???

wowza! :o

and it’s playing on a big tv in the jail room! 101 much??

more like room 202 wowza! :o

zipp is here! :D

sunny: “i’m sunny!” izzy: “and i’m izzy moooonbooow!” lol! :D

the unicorns losing their magic ‘changes things’! :o

zipp has the journal! :D

their smiles though! :D

aww it was sunny’s dad’s journal! :/

zipp recognizes the star! :o

here comes pipp!

pipp’s here ‘for the content’ BOI

only royals can fly? zipp doesn’t seem so sure about that...

yay zipp unlocked them! :D

eyyy! ;D

aww hitch is beloved! :D

hitch is such a detective! :D

cutie bunnies!!!!! :D

BELOVED!!!! :D

hitch LOOK BEHIND YOU AT THE AWESOME MUGS!!!!

hitch: *smirk* “gotcha ;)”

zipp: “watch your step!” sunny and izzy: *fall* lol! :D

zipp found maritime bay and bridlewood maps! :o

wonderbolts! :o

zipp’s been faking flying? :o

WIRES AND LIGHTING???

wheee!!!! :D

she’s so happy! :)

omg twilight! :o

sunny: “oh my stars!” oms! :o

there are crystals!

beautiful lighting! :D

izzy: “we’ve gotten, like, a bazillion crystals in bridlewood!” wowza! :o

queen haven sings her own version of the mlp theme in the shower! :o

zipp is a spy at a pasta store! :o

press: “princess zipp! are you wearing-“ she’s not wearing anything tho...

press 2: “where’s the bathroom?” lol! :D

ooh a crown swap! :o

zipp: “swapping the crown will be easy breezie!” breezies! :o

zipp is gonna be queen since she’s older!

lies = safety in modern equestria... :/

pipp sounds like a modern pop star!

oh no the doggie suspects something! :o

OMG HITCH! :o

pipp’s song sounds like a blackpink song now! :o

aww hitch is wiggling! :D

oh no the power flickered out! :o

i think pipp was lip syncing since her voice cut out a bit!

lol hitch is singing! :D

oh no the wires have been exposed! :o

save her zipp! zipp: *doesn’t save her sis* ...oh :/

izzy: ‘her mom is the queen!” hitch to zipp: “you’re a princess?” zipp: “oh so the sheriff just became a detective.” lol :D (and how does she know he’s a sheriff?)

QUEEN HAVEN’T BEEN ARRESTED FOR BEING A PHONY PONY BALONEY!!! :o

and they lost the crown? NOOO-

oh thanks pissed off pipp! :D

oh no the princesses are gonna be arrested! :o

pipp’s voice crack is so cute! :D

the mane 5 is here!!! :D

hitch: “but i’m a sheriiiiff!” but you’re a mr. whiny pants!

construction isn’t going well in maritime bay...

OMG SPROUT SOUNDS LIKE DARTH VADER WHYYY

oh he’s just sipping a soda :/

phyllis: “oh dear. somepony’s getting a big head.” yeah you think?

zipp and pipp aren’t going through a good time right now but at least the scenery is beautiful! :D

hitch lost his badge! :o

izzy: “if you ask me, that badge was creating an unhealthy power dynamic! *sings guitar music*” lol :D

omg! :o

sunny: “once we find the crystal, you’ll get your magic back, you’ll have your fans and you’ll put me in custody!” lol :D

izzy knocked down a tree and saved the day! :D

it’s him! :D

zipp: “need some backup, sherrif?” hitch: “i’ve got it!” *barely makes a spark with some twigs* lol :D

cuties! :D

zipp called hitch ‘dude’! :D

aww izzy doesn’t want to leave her friends :(

OMG IZZY FOUND SUNNY’S MESSAGE!!!! :D

aww ‘hoof to heart’ :’)

hitch wants to do his part! :D

hitch: “the unicorn forest sounds pretty magical!” the forest: “is dark and scary* lol!

izzy’s house is stunning! :D

aww she calls it ‘la villa izzy’! :D

what a cool house! :D

the music machine plays the mlp theme!! :D

woah! :o

pipp: “i so wish i had livestreamed that!” sigh... :/

izzy’s song!!! :D

cutie!! :D

this song is so catchy! :D

smiley gals!!!! :D

lol! :D

hitch tho! :D

izzy rap!! :D

epic! B)

‘if we fail we’ll go to prison’ is really a line in the song lol! :D

the scenery! :D

izzy: “crystals! crystals! cryyystals!” lol! :D

people are depressed af around here! :o

british foal: “yoooou said a bad word! bing bong bing bong!” lol how random! :D

why is mayo a bad word tho?

they’re doing to a crystal dealer!

rubik’s cube! :o (it was also on the sheriff’s desk in maritime bay!)

and that pony is named alphabittle!

alphabittle: “deep talk for a little pony.” sunny: “you’ll find i’m average height,” lol! :D

omg he wants a dance off! :o

pipp: “feel the rhythm take you over! you feeling it?” sunny: “i’m feeling it!” DO YOU FEEL IT NOW, MR. KRABS???

epic! :D

yay she won! :D

OMG NO SHE DOESN’T GET THE CRYSTAL???

OMG hitch just said mayo! :o

they escaped tho! :D

QUEEN HAVEN???

and hitch’s badge! :D

queen haven wants them to ‘spin the story’ BOI

oh no queen haven and alphabittle are fighting over the crystals! :o

alphabittle threatens to use his powers but he doesn’t have magic?

sunny: “stop! you don’t have magic!” random pony: “bing bong!” lol! :D

omg...

aww cuties! :D

aaaaand......

it doesn’t work :/

maybe because there needs to be an earth pony crystal or a twilight star?

aww poor sunny :(

she’s about to cry!!! :’(

:’(

hitch: “i guess this is goodbye... friends.” zipp: “better hurry... sheriff.” :’‘(

sunny didn’t fix the crooked photo of her dad!!! :(

no she put her mane 6 figures away!!! :(

circle??? :o

the lights!!!! :D

CIRCLE??? :O

!!!!!!!!!

maritime bay hasn’t been treated too kindly i see! :o

oh no evil fireworks! :o

everyone has the unicorn mind hats on! :o

sprout is being treated like royalty now GREEEEAAAAT

and there’s more nazi imagery with that big mural of him!

sprout: “citizens of-“ *mural of him falls* lol! :D

the citizens didn’t want to fight in the first place! :D

OMG HE HAS AN EVIL LAUGH NOOOO

OMG ROBOT???

even phyllis thinks this is overdone! same mommy!

yay they’re reunited! :D

queen haven: “we need to get home!” alphabittle: “before we’re all jinxed!” queen haven: “excuse me, do you see my mouth still a-talking?” lol! :D

queen haven called sprout a ‘big robot pony’ lol :D

they need to stop it with magic! :D

sprout: “OH NO YOU DON”T” sassy man!

aww zipp has hitch’s back! :D

OMG SPROUT CRACKED THE LIGHTHOUSE??? :o

omg pipp and izzy fell! :o

queen haven saved alphabittle! :D

phyllis: “sprout! let’s put the toy away!” sprout: “mom, i’m in the middle of something!” lol! :D

HE WAS ABOUT TO RUN HIS MOMMY OVER!!!! :o

OMG THE LIGHT HOUSE IS CRUMBLING!!!!

omg! :o

aaaand it didn’t work! :o

magic of friendship it’s your tur-

OMG THE CRYSTALS ARE FALLING!!!! :o

THE LIGHTHOUSE IS FALLIIIIING!!!!!! :o

everyone’s still alive though!

sunny: “it’s not the crystals that need to be brought together...” it’s us?

“it’s us!” knew it!! :D

yay choose friendship and love! :D

aww queen haven fixed the picture!

and so did alphabittle!

and phyllis!!! :D

uh guys what’s that over there...?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAAAAS!!!!!! :D

SONIC RAINBOOM!!!! :o

magic is back!!!!!! :D

they can fly!!!! :D

sunny’s flying with the princesses! :D

the unicorns are back! :D

the pegasi’s wings have such a pretty glow! :D

beautiful sunny! ♥

alphabittle says ‘hi there buddy’ to a little foal! :D

sprout: “mommy, was i a good sheriff?” phyllis: “oh look a flying dog!” lol! :D

hitch: “you did it sunny.” sunny: “no... we did it... together!” yas!!! :D

the gang’s all here!!! :D

izzy: “now we never have to be apart!” yay!!! :D

aww they all did ‘hooves to hearts’! :D ♥♥♥♥♥

balloon guy is back! :D

balloon guy: “hey guys! what did i miss?” *turns around and sees the mane 5* *SCREAAAAM!!!!!* lol! :D

and that’s the end! :D

besides the end credits scene...

;)

so that was the mlp g5 movie! i loved it a lot more than i thought i would and it wasn’t kiddie like g3. it was a lot like g4! the connection between that and g5 is awesome! the characters were fun and the story was really interesting despite it being a typical hero’s journey. it reminded me so much of disney! i can’t wait to see what adventure sunny and her friends have in store! :D

#livewatch #i've loved most of what i've seen so far!#g5 let's gooo!!!! :D

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bakutae · 4 years

Text

bnha headcanons #3

today’s menu:

shigaraki tomura with a splash of kaminari denki and a dash of hitoshi shinso

scenario:

where a kid comes up and proposes to you in front of him

shigaraki tomura

you and shigaraki were out together on a quick date that day as he promised to take you out on one before bed the day before

you were elated, since shigaraki was usually busy with villain things, and the one time you got to spend with him was during evenings and nights since he promised to at least have a meal and sleep next to you everyday

you were holding on to shigaraki’s arm tightly, not wanting to let go as you two walked on the streets

he wears his usual plain red sneakers, black pants which exposes his ankles, and a matching long-sleeved v-neck shirt

he is also clad in plain black jacket over the top, the hood pulled low over his face, the other of his disembodied hands in his pocket

you stopped, and readjusted the hood to where you could see his eyes and he flinched, clearly not used to seeing much light in the city

you could see the hesitation and self consciousness as he frantically tried to pull his hood back but you aren’t going to allow that

you pressed a chaste kiss to his chapped lips as you tucked one of the hairs falling to his face behind his ear affectionately

before you could say anything that would potentially make the shigaraki tomura blush, you felt a tap on your hips, which took you by surprise as you quickly turned around

you saw a little boy, that looked around five years old, with the prettiest big eyes and a white daisy in his hand

a smile played gently on your lips as you ripped your gaze away from shigaraki and bent down in front of the boy

‘m-miss, i think you’re really pretty! i want to m-marry you in the future! please say y-yes!’

he said with such a cute accent you felt a squeal escape from your lips as you caressed the boy’s cheeks in your hands

you heard shigaraki growl from behind you and mutter ‘can i just turn him to dust already’

you stood up and pressed shigaraki’s arm to your chest as you turned to look at the young boy

‘hm, sorry though i already have a boyfriend here and i think he would turn red if i married you instead’

you said in a teasing voice, staring pointedly at shigaraki as the boy looked shocked

‘woahh your boyfriend can turn red? is that his quirk? that’s so coooool!’ he said it in such an innocent way that you dropped down to squish him again

shigaraki clicked his tongue and stretched his arms out

‘my quirk’s not turning red but i sure as hell can show you what it is’

you slapped his hand away in a hurry, not wanting an innocent kid like him to vanish into dust

your hand held shigaraki’s gently, careful to not let his pinky touch you

‘w-well kid, i’ll see you again and maybe in a few years time i’ll accept your confession’ you said, trying to get the kid away before shigaraki actually tries to kill the child

you would have thought the kid won the lottery; his eyes shimmered with joy and he ran away quickly

shigaraki was in a foul mood, you could tell

but you had all the time in the world to show him how much you loved him

and that you did, as you ran a hand through his beautiful hair, smiling warmly at him

kaminari denki

you and denki were doing a quick grocery shopping as denki wanted to make that dalgona coffee that was getting all the hype online but you didn’t have the ingredients, therefore the grocery shopping

you and him were pushing the supermarket trolley around

okay, maybe the basket would have been sufficient but where’s the fun in that?

you were deciding whether to buy the gold coffee powder or the regular coffee powder as denki tried to look for sugar a few rows away from you

you felt a quick tap on your side breast and you jumped

‘denki! we’re in publi-’

it wasn’t denki, instead it was a small boy, with a packet of milk in his hand

denki heard you say his name and he came over, but stopped when he saw you with the boy, his hear warming up evidently at the sight

he decided to stand at the edge to watch the interaction between you and the young child

‘i wanna marry you! please accept my milk as a ring because mummy said i’m not allowed to get a ring yet’

he said, pouting, thrusting a carton of japanese milk in your hands

you were taken aback, you thought the boy was here because he had lost his mother but you didn’t expect him to propose to you

denki heard it and almost came to rush into the scene and claim you as his, but he was curious as to how you would react to the situation and resisted the urge to approach you

a smile crawled onto your lips as you blushed, despite yourself and you bent down slightly to meet his gaze

‘i’m really sorry. but i already have a boyfriend and i love him very very much’

denki blushed upon hearing your words and he couldn’t help but smile

a woman came rushing at you and pulled the boy away from you

‘yuzuru, what are you doing to this poor lady? oh my gosh i’m so sorry, he’s always confessing to random girls everywhere with his milk. i hope he didn’t bother you too much!’

you smiled, as you glanced down at the boy, who was blushing furiously

‘oh it was nothing, it was really cute’

the woman bows furiously and dragged the boy with her, seemingly scolding him on the way

denki walked to you and you gasped

‘denki, you were there all along?’

he smiled and nodded, ‘you love me very very much, huh y/n?’

your heart pounded in your chest and you hit his chest gently

‘shut up denki’

he never really did shut up about how you gushed about him to a stranger, which resulted in you red-faced in embarrassment and him laughing loudly and being a public nuisance

but it was true

you did love kaminari denki; and you loved him very very much

hitoshi shinso

you bumped into shinso when you were walking home from an outing with your friends

he claimed that it was a coincidence but you and i both know that it is cause he missed you a lot ;)

you were very happy to see him, and you hugged him the moment you saw him, which caused him to be caught off guard and his eyes widened

your friends were with you then, but when they saw the hearts appearing from on top of both your heads they did a full one-eighty turn and left

yes, you did love your friends, but shinso was more important to you, and you loved him more

he cleared his throat and he was about to start talking when he suddenly stopped and looked at something behind you

you were curious, and tilted your head to stare at him questioningly, as he mouthed at you to look behind you

and so you did

there was a boy, who looked around eleven or twelve, walking towards you with a plastic pink ring; the kinds you got in a birthday party goodie bag on your friend’s fifth birthday

you raised an eyebrow, and looked behind you

but there was no one behind you, and the boy looked like he was staring at you

you felt anxiety seep into your bloodstream as you looked behind you; shinso was as equally confused as you

you hated these awkward moments where you didn’t know who the other party was trying to talk to

however, you were taken aback when the boy stopped in front of you and went down on one knee

‘miss, i saw you from down the street and you’re very attractive. please marry-’

you witnessed the poor boy’s eyes turn to white prior to his black ones as he stood up without saying anything and walked backwards, in a straight line

your eyes widened as you noticed a light pole that the boy was going to run into and you frantically tugged at shinso’s sleeves

‘shinso! make him turn or something! he’s going to hit the pole! s-shinso please! i’m pretty sure what he did was just a prank!’

a smile played on his lips as he huffed

‘well he should have thought of that when he first even tried to propose to you, prank or not. i should be the one doing so for real, not him’

‘bong!’

taglist: @bnha-homeroom

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #kaminari denki #kaminari denki x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha fic #bnha fluff #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero headcanons

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the-world-of-jo · 3 years

Text

Perseus Gambit - A Lancer TTRPG

A story I wrote for a game I play... It won't make much sense if you don't play, but I am actually proud of this piece, so. (And it's too big to put in our discord, so. >.>)

When you realize how serious things are, you aren’t prepared. As soon as Doc gives you permission, you zip into the medical wing to snag a slate, indicating you’ll be keeping it with you for a couple of days then head to your favorite reading spot in Hydroponics. It’s there the gravity of the situation hits you, and you slump back in your seat, shocked with a feeling of helplessness washing over you.

And then you realize, you’re a geneticist. This is your wheelhouse, you *know* how to repair something like this on a cellular level. And then you’re cancelling your counseling session for that afternoon, promising to circle back with her to reschedule as you head back to the labs.

You manage to avoid her for about a month before Dr. Marchand shows up in front of you. Coincidently, you’re coming out of Noah’s quarters and it’s first thing in the morning, so you have a feeling you’ve been ratted out. You give Sparky a healthy dose of side eye, but you can’t help but spare a bit for Noah as well.

They both look way too innocent for your liking.

*_*_*

You have no fucking idea how to fix this. Not a single one.

Every sim you run comes back not only with bad results, but with *fatal* results. There are over 150,000 genes in a single human, and only 5% of them on average are coded. The Kennedy’s seem to have an additional 3%, all of those enhancing their strength, speed, sight, hearing, smell…

They were also disease resistant, so whatever was affecting Elias was almost absolutely genetic. But Doc had that much figured out.

The jarring ***”BONG”*** of another failed sim is followed in rapid succession by three more, and you sigh and close your eyes for a moment. Then, you get back to work, filing away the results and setting up new sims.

There was still time. Not a lot, but you intended to make the most of it. You ‘steal’ a few other unused computers and begin running sims on those, corralling a few sub alts to move them into what’s been coined as “Lee’s Area”. Someone even made a little paper sign and it made you chuckle.

You sat back and logged into a ninth research station, beginning to look up any new research methods or new genetic information that might have come available since you left Union Space.

It doesn’t surprise you that what you and Doc have been doing is light years beyond anything you find in published works.

*_*_*

The clock in your head is making ‘tick-tock’ noises at random times, and you know it’s an auditory hallucination, but god fucking damnit it needs to quit. You make sure to keep this away from both Drs. Marchand and Lakani, and for the most part, you succeed.

But now, signs of degradation are showing up in Noah. ***Your*** Noah.

You begin snagging more computers as they sit idle. One sub-alt has been stationed near your area for a couple of weeks now since you always seem to request him. Yes, him. You’ve named him Bruce, after Bruce Banner. It’s a nerd joke and it makes you smile, but nobody else seems to understand.

That’s okay though.

Doc tried banning you from the labs until you got some decent rest and food. And you tried, you really did, but.

In less than two hours, you were moving through the ducts, army crawling at times. You pulled a screwdriver out of your back pocket and undid the screws holding a grate in place, and moving it aside you dropped gracefully into the middle of your area.

Right in front of Doc.

Nodding at him in greeting, you pulled a sandwich and a bottle of Galaxy Dew from your backpack and set it at your research desk, then sat your butt down and resumed working. You left your slate on it’s home screen purposefully since your background was a picture of Noah holding Sparky (that you’d taken with permission).

Doc didn’t miss the gesture and instead of ordering you back out, he had Raum lift the restrictions on you and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

You hear the doors whoosh open and in trots Sparky, a bag of granola and a bag of trailmix held in his mouth. He puts his paws on your knee and looks hopeful that his offering will be accepted. You can’t help but smile and pet him gently. “Thanks for the snacks buddy. I forgot to get dessert.”

Sparky looks quite happy as you add the baggies next to your sandwich.

You do actually eat everything.

*_*_*

Eventually though, one night, while you’re alone in the labs, the last ***”BONG”*** still fresh in your mind, you look up at the ceiling and ask Raum for help. You just need a direction, to know *where* to look. This random shooting in the dark bull shit is getting everyone nowhere and fast.

In your experience, ‘mad scientist’ types have a signature, a way they do things or a way they code things. You’ve been able to figure out which high profile geneticist has written a certain piece in journals, not by their wording but by their projects, and you can’t think of anyone more infamous than Cyrus Jacobi.

Or, as the medical world knew him - Josef Mengele.

If anyone from HA had even mentioned him, and that person had anything to do with their cloning programs, it’d at least, at the ***very least*** point you in a direction, because mad scientist types had a signature, and they liked paying homage to their heroes.

And then one day, Tane asks you “If you could have anything…”

And you tell him. You give him a laundry list of things that could assist you, and you realize if this information ever got into your hands, you’d be very very close to being arrested and tossed in the brig for *life*.

You think *Three squares a day, an actual bed to sleep on...If I handled Milaniko for ten years, I can handle that for life.*

And you wait.

***”BONG, BONG, BONG”***

The sound begins to haunt your dreams.

*_*_*

Noah is the only one who can coax you out, and he does so every day to have dinner with you and make sure you get some rest after.

The guilt gnaws at you when you slip out of bed well before your alarm goes off, and head toward the labs. But time is running out, and that fucking clock is getting louder and louder. It doesn’t matter that people are staring at you, and the fact that your clothes are pretty damn loose doesn’t matter either.

Your nutritional profile has been met each and every day thanks to protein shakes and bars, and Sparky is...suspicious. He’s not advanced enough to know you’re effectively working the system, but he knows *something* is not right. In his view, you should not be losing weight.

Well. You are. But it can be remedied once you figure this shit out.

Doc has been forcing you to take breaks, just for an hour. When your schedules align (and they do at least once a day and you know Doc is doing that on purpose and you love him for it), you spend the time with Noah in his office, grabbing a snack or dozing in one of the extra chairs.

The times you don’t line up with Noah, you head to the mech bay and straight to Beauty, always bringing an offering of donuts or some type of potato dish. Opal is kind enough to not turn you away, Beauty’s hand lowering to lift you up to the cockpit. You’re always sure to thank Beauty, then you sit next to Opal, your offering balancing on both your knee and hers.

She doesn’t question you, doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t comment when you know you’re muttering out loud. Sometimes she leans against you, her shoulder offering quiet support and those are the hardest times, when you have to clench your jaw shut to keep from openly sobbing and admitting how scared you are. How you’re not sure if you can figure this puzzle out, and as a result of your own incompetence you stand to lose not only a dear friend, but the love of your life.

You have a feeling she knows what thoughts run through your head, and you’re grateful that she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t even comment on the tears that track down your cheeks only to fall from your chin.

You are so, so grateful for that, and you somehow draw strength from sitting with her.

It’s enough that you can head back into the lab yet again.

*_*_*

The next time the Dvorak drops out of near light, you’ve all but moved into the labs. You don’t notice the whoosh of the doors opening at first, but that’s because you’re all but actually absorbing the data on one of the doctors involved with HA cloning, who did indeed cite Jacobi as an amazing scientist.

When the sub-alt rolls up, you mistake it for Bruce, but then Raum’s voice is piped into your brain via your shunt.

A gift. From Tane.

You look at the isolated slate, then take it from the alt, thanking Raum profusely. You stare at it for a moment, the device seeming so small in your hands.

You rip the privacy screen from your own slate (and you may have actually broken the screen - Marcus will be pissed if he has to replace another one) and slap it onto the new one and begin devouring the information. There’s so much here, too much, enough that you have to ask Raum to help you sift through it all.

But...but...when he flags pages he thinks you need, your heart races.

Schematics. Not of the Kennedys, but of prior models.

Maintenance records, upkeep recommendations. Nutritional requirements, formulae for a metabolic stabilizer…

And then you see it. Written by the doctor who quoted Jacobi.

***Genetic coding information***.

You rip through the document and as you read, you begin to babble.

“Jesus fuck, it’s in the junk. They actually put it in the junk DNA, where nobody would fucking think. We need to change everything, absolutely everything, did he work on the...Ken...He did, he fucking did, he worked on the Kennedys, okay, so if that’s the case I’m betting he put them in the same places but there’s probably different locks, different fail safes but if we find one we can tweak it to fit other locks and we need to rethink everything christ we don’t have enough *time* and -”

Hands on your shoulder make you look up, and instinctively you pull the slate against your chest, protecting it. Raum has gone quiet in your mind.

“My boy,” Doc says. “You’re speaking in tongues.”

“We need to change where we look,” you blurt out. “They put the locks in the junk DNA. We need to change course, we need more computers, we need -”

“What? Brawley…” Doc’s eyes stray to the slate and you pull it closer to your chest. He knows there’s something on there that you shouldn’t have and he’s silent for a moment.

“Are you sure?” he asks, shaking you just a bit for emphasis.

“Yes.” Your voice doesn’t waiver.

He nods, then turns from you and begins barking out orders to other assistants and all the screens go black. It takes but a moment for them to reboot, blank screens ready for new directives.

You log into each one individually and set up sims, directing the machines to paw through almost 125,000 pieces of DNA.

You still need more machines.

*_*_*

A few days later you zip into the lab only to find your area almost empty. Your heart lurches from your chest into your throat, but Doc is there, turning you to the right and giving you a nudge forward.

There’s a new section in the lab. Huge, with bright lights, tons of computer banks, frosted windows and a door with a keypad and retina scanner for entry. And the name plaque reads “Brawley Stonehurst”

You pause only enough to look back at Doc and offer him a grin, but then you’re rushing forward, Sparky right behind you, the door opening with a quiet whoosh. There’re more computers than you’ve ever dared ‘steal’ on the main floor, but you quickly commandeer each and every one, setting them up for various sims.

The grating ***”BONG”*** is still the sound you’re constantly hearing.

*_*_*

It’s been a bad day. There’s talk of ventilation for Elias, and he really needs to come off of active duty, but he’s fighting tooth and nail to remain.

Noah hasn’t been able to really lead his classes, nor has he been able to spar with Masek at the level they’re both used to. Sparky has taken it upon himself to spend most of his time with Noah. When he asks you if this is acceptable, you say it is and rearrange his priorities to put Noah first and yourself second.

Doc finds out and he’s in your office questioning the decision, pointing out that Noah and Elias aren’t the only ones deteriorating, and you’re about to call him out on the pot calling the kettle black, but…

But…

***”BING”***

You both stop, staring at each other, and it takes you almost a solid minute to realize one of the sims has finished.

And the text, it’s not *green*, it’s not a *success*, but it’s...not a critical fail. The text is yellow, telling you that you’re on the right track but you need to tweak things and you can do that, the data is promising and you look at Doc and you can feel yourself grinning and -

***”chime”***

Again, you both stop and you know your eyes are huge, you know this because his are as well. It doesn’t take nearly as long for you to begin looking around frantically -

***”chime”.......”chime”......”chime”***

One by one, five different screens light up with green text.

*_*_*

Dr. Anath Lakani is fucking amazing. There’s a reason you’ve been starry eyed since he said he’d take you on as a resident. Your mind is quick, and you know this, but his…

Christ on a cracker, watching that man work is breathtaking for a science nerd like you.

He takes your findings and spins the results into formulae and then spins those into an actual therapy faster than anything you’ve ever seen. And you watch, because this is porn for you, this creating something to save a life from numbers and codes and this and that. In theory, you can do this as well, but not this quickly.

Doc’s skills come from years of experience, and you are nothing short of a captive audience.

Arrangements are made to have Elias come in the very next morning and he’s agreeable. His words were something along the lines of “What have I got to lose?”, and that just…

Your breath leaves you as if you were punched in the gut, and *gods*...

“Please let this work,” you whisper to yourself as you head home.

To Noah. Who is resting in his quarters and only quirks a brow as he looks up from his slate when you come in, then lean back against the door, just looking at him.

He’s pale, too pale, with shadows under his eyes. And you’re not sure if it’s fact or if it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but his cheekbones seem even more pronounced today than they did yesterday.

“It’s early,” he murmurs, and it is, not even gone 20:00 yet. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” you say, your voice coming out in a whisper. “I wanted...shower,” you finish lamely.

Legally, you can’t tell him. This is Elias’ business, not Noah’s.

But there’s that soft smile, the one that’s just for you. “Go on then,” he says. “I’ll have a sub alt bring something from the mess.”

“You gonna eat too?”

“I’ll have something.”

He knows you’ll pester him. Even though he really doesn’t have much of an appetite.

While in the shower, you think about the sims running for Noah’s treatment. You’re jumping the gun, but Elias’ is almost completely mapped out, with only one part of the therapy being in question. In theory, even if that fails, the results will tell you and Doc where to go next, but that clock is still ticking, loud as ever.

You must have been in there a lot longer than you thought, because the next thing you know Sparky’s sitting outside the shower stall looking up at you. Once he sees he has your attention, he sends a query, checking on you.

*Just lost in thought,* you reply.

*Supper is here! KenKen has lounge coverings waiting for you. They are nice and warm!* And with that, Sparky dashes out of the bathroom.

After drying off, going out to get dressed (and you don’t miss the appraising look Noah gives you, but you ignore it because no, you don’t look your best and you realize this but that’s not what he’s concerned about) and eating, you curl up with him, your head on his shoulder.

It’s quiet in a way that ships are, which is to say it’s not *really* quiet, but there’s no voices, no computers, no bonks or bings or chimes or anything. Just the sound of Noah breathing, and if you hold your breath, his heart beat.

“Elias is starting a new therapy in the morning,” you whisper and you feel Noah go still against you. “The projected success rate of the first two rounds is 98%, but the third is hovering around 80%. Even if the third is a failure, we’ll know by the results which way to go. Doc is prepping the bases tonight and tomorrow, but it’s still going to be close, I think. Depends if it fails if it causes any domino effects.”

He’s staring at you now, so you continue.

“I’m running your sims in my office, and two have finished. They weren’t successful, but they weren’t failures. I’m going off the assumption that since you and Elias are from the same...batch,” (that term burns in your throat) “that you’ll need similar therapies.”

“How,” Noah starts, his voice raspy. He clears his throat, then resumes. “How did you…?’ He can’t finish the question, and you don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t know what to ask or if it’s because he can’t ask, but you look up at him.

“Please don’t ask me that,” you whisper. He’s head of security, and even if this would save his life, he would be duty bound.

His eyes leave you and move to your backpack, the forbidden slate hidden inside. He’d seen it, before, noticed it wasn’t yours or one from medical and asked about it. You’d pretended not to hear him, raising your head and blinking, bleary eyed (that wasn’t a lie, at least).

*Raum,* you send out over the comms and his reply is almost instant.

*Taken care of.*

You know the next time you pick the slate up, it’ll be blank. But that’s okay. You also know the information is someplace safe, and all you have to do is ask Raum in order to access it.

When Noah’s eyes return to you, you’re already asleep, curled protectively around him.

*_*_*

When Elias’s third round fails, it is almost catastrophic and both you and Doc are scrambling to keep him stable until the last formulae can be finished. The two of you work well together, both talking over each other and accessing various machines via your neural connections. Nobody will be able to convince you that was the only reason Elias was stabilized as quickly as he had been - while neither of you is super humanly fast, you’re faster than the average person and with both of you working, it’s...harrowing, but it could have been worse.

Much, much worse.

But, the now fourth round is administered and it works, it works so beautifully. Further degradation is essentially halted, or at the very least slowed to a crawl and not only that, but Elias’ body can begin repairs. His stem cells are fine, and with that vital system working as intended, modern medicine only needs to give his respiratory and cardiac systems a boost to get healing started.

Noah’s therapies go so much smoother, and you feel a little guilty for that. Elias doesn’t give a fuck, and the day he’s taken off his oxygen feed his smile stretches from ear to ear.

Noah wears one similar to it, and you finally know what people mean when they say their hearts are so full that they’re bursting.

Physical therapy is something Elias is eager to start, and you’ve got your hands in that as well because you cannot and will not leave either of these men alone it seems. But in this case, it’s not a bad thing because while you’re in the gym with Elias, you’re working on your own fitness regimen as well.

His upper body strength comes back slowly, but his lower body is a bit slower still, if only because he’d been in a wheelchair for an extended period of time. Hydro therapy was a thing for a while, but eventually, Elias began trying to stand.

You’re hella impressed at his determination, and his positive attitude makes you smile. You’re there with him when he stands on his own for the first time, the sub alt holding his chair steady in case he needs to sit back down quickly. You’re aware Cap is in the room as well, but your attention is solely on Elias. It’s a bit of a struggle, and his face is flushed and his breathing slightly labored (his oxygen saturation is at 98%, so you’re not in the least bit worried), but eventually, he’s standing. He takes a breath, finds his balance, and lets go of the supports.

His legs don’t buckle. He looks down as if he’s having trouble believing it, then he looks up at you and grins that infectious grin and you can’t help but smile back.

Then you notice Cap, who’s watching, and you’re not sure, but his eyes look suspiciously bright. He looks to you and nods with a smile, and you look back to Elias and move to help him sit back down, then step away as father and son have a moment, Cap moving closer and speaking softly to Elias.

*_*_*

You’re sitting with the entire group, including Noah (because you asked him to come have dinner and he said yes because he loves you and he also loves Masek’s cooking because who does NOT love Masek’s cooking???) when the alert chimes at the door. It takes a minute for it to open, but when it does, Elias is standing there, grinning, and he walks in under his own power.

That night, the only sound haunting your dreams is laughter and you’ve never slept better in your life.

#Space Shenanagains #Brawley Stonehurst #Noah Kennedy #Elias Kennedy #Lancer #Perseus Gambit #I cannot spell but I did use spell check

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gayenerd · 3 years

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The Band You Love To Hate By Tom Lanham of RIP (There’s no date on this but I would say 1995 or 1996?)

Eyes wide as a barn owl's. Spines stiff with anticipation, like a hungry scorpion. The two teenage girls sit stock-still in their booth at a posh Berkeley diner, practically bursting with excitement, but without the faintest clue how to handles it. Clueless, you might call them. A few feet across the linoleum aisle--with his back to them, oblivious to all the oh-my-gawd facial expressions--sits the object of their adulation, dressed in unassuming black jeans, black T-shirt, shredded black Converse, and a beat-up black baseball jacket. But even with his once-green dreadlocks tamed to a short black business cut, Billie Joe Armstrong--yes, the snaggle-toothed MTV ragamuffin from megaplatinum neo-punkers, Green Day--is as easy to spot as Michael Bolton at a Rogaine convention. Although the kids want to leap up from their seats and race over for an autograph or a jittery hello, they don't dare. Instead, they're forced to deal with their seething emotions as if they were eating post-tonsillectomy ice cream: a lot of numb gulping and a quick pain chaser. This is the blessing of being Billie Joe Armstrong. Alas, it's also his curse. By the time you read this, the irascible little rocker will have turned 24. And exactly two years ago, he and his wacky bandmates--drummer Tré Cool and bassist Mike Dirnt--lolled around the trashy basement flat they shared, getting stoned and sneering at the idea that Dookie--their just-released "sellout" on big-time Reprise--would ever amount to more than a nice drink coaster. Fame? They were more preoccupied with their bong collection, stacks of rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards, and a thriving sea monkey tank displayed prominently on a window-sill. Most of their furniture had springs poking through--they didn't care. Armstrong regularly picked boogers from his gold-ringed nostril and then flick them onto the scary shag carpet--what did he have to worry about? Too bad he couldn't have foreseen the all-too-near future. Green Day happened to be in the right place at the right time. The three-chord slam-a-rama Dookie--a pop-edged return to decade-old punk ethics--became the surprise hit of '94, going on to sell over 11 million copies. Armstrong, accustomed to frenetic club performances, began translating the group's infectious energy to larger and larger venues. Demand continued to grow at a staggering pace; Green Day fought back. They turned a satellite MTV Video Awards performance into a "spit-cam" fest by urging the crowd to gob any camera lens it could ("[The cameramen] tried to make it look like it was cool, but it wasn't"). Last October, Armstrong and company issued their 32-minute follow up, Insomniac, almost as an afterthought, with little promotion, a visually offensive video (for "Geek Stink Breath") and--at least initially--a strict no-interview policy. Simultaneously, they ditched their high-powered Cahn-Man management team and are now virtually managing themselves. Along the way, Armstrong married his long-time sweetheart Adrienne and last March fathered a son, Joey. In typical down-to-earth fashion, the couple spent their honeymoon a few blocks from home at Berkeley's prestigious Claremont Hotel, not on some exotic island. Beginning to see the problem here? How does a street-smart kid from humble beginnings skyrocket to world-class notoriety and yet--with his music in millions of homes and his privacy suddenly a right that needs defending--still adhere to the simple ideals, the simple lifestyle that spawned him? Is "successful punk" an oxymoron? Insomniac provided few clues--it was more of the same slacker-ennui sentiment, more defeated, disenfranchised grousing set to speedy, memorable hooks. Or, as Armstrong barks in the aptly-dubbed "Walking Contradiction," "My wallet's fat and so is my head...I'm a victim of a Catch-22." And that, in essence, was the topic this tortured artist wanted to discuss at the diner. The old "be careful what you wish for" adage. The classic "problem with success is finding someone to enjoy it with you" truism. Armstrong, who takes occasional sips from a vanilla milkshake, but mostly stares morosely at the floor, seems to be dealing with superstardom in a relatively normal way. Don't be fooled by the steady stream of negative vitriol that follows; he's analyzing it, breaking it down, figuring out ways to disconnect his kinetic career. Or at least turn down the volume for awhile.

RIP: We know what's going right. But what's going wrong?

BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG: Lots of things, really. Actually, when I came here today, I said I didn't wanna talk about anything good, because I don't really have anything good to talk about. Goin' on tour pretty soon--don't really wanna go. Just because I've been kinda torn. I wanna stick around at home. I don't like playing arenas, and I realized I didn't know what I was getting myself into on the last tour, but I went into it being positive and getting excited about it. But I didn't realize that I was the kind of person to whom it's too much of an event and not really a personal thing anymore. And I started to realize how much I liked being the background music to this scene at the club. And now it's.... I dunno. People expect so much. It's cool and stuff, and it can be a lot of fun, a really good experience. But when you play that many arenas.... The first time we ever played those big kinds of shows at the Shoreline (Amphitheater in Mountain View, California), there was weirdness--we were playing for a lot of f?!kin' people. And I hate to say it, but sometimes it just feels like another gig. We played every day, 50 gigs this last leg, and it just wears on ya. There's all these people, and they think "Alright. I paid my $15--you better impress the f?!kin' shit outta me right now!" And I realized that for Joey, the rock and roll touring life is not a good atmosphere for a kid. I tried to make it to where it would be, bringing lots of his toys out. But there are no familiar surroundings for him. And he likes all the attention--people come up and say hello to him every day, people who are on tour with us. But he doesn't have his own room or a home to go to every day. So, no more touring for Joey.

RIP: Turned on Regis and Kathie Lee this morning to find their gossip columnist dishing dirt on Green Day. How Insomniac didn't do nearly as well as predicted, how it was a disappointment to the label. A failure, supposedly.

BJA: Well, it's like, we didn't set up this record. We didn't. We didn't do any promotion beforehand, we completely quit doing interviews, and basically we just wanted to go on into it. We weren't even sure if we wanted to do a video. And then when we did a video, it got yanked from daytime rotation because people were getting grossed-out by it. So I think we did alienate a lot of people. So that was expected, that it wasn't going to sell a lot of records.

RIP: NOFX have taken it one step further. They refuse to talk to press, make videos, pander potential singles to radio. They don't want to get any bigger.

BJA: I dunno, maybe I'm just getting jaded or something. But I just got cable again and I can't stand anything. Six years ago you could hear something that was different and know that it was different. So it'd be "alternative" or whatever. But now it's like you get this Joan...Osborne? With the ring in her nose, waving the alternative rock flag, when she's just...not, ya know? And I'm thinking, I hate all this music that's coming out now--the past year was just hell for music. But people are buying it, so then I'm thinking, Maybe they're the ones that are good and I'm the one who sucks? I just don't know if I really wanna be involved in the rock world anymore at all. Period. I don't necessarily have anything against a big record company or people who what to join up with a big record company. It really is right for some people, but more and more, I don't think that I'm really meant to. And I hate to sound like that, because I don't like taking things for granted. I don't like to talk about my problems when there's some kid struggling in his garage somewhere saying "F?!k him! He's just taking it for granted. Shit, I wish I could do something like that, but I'm just stuck here in Biloxi, Mississippi, and I can't even get a gig." I'm so confused right now.

RIP: It must be odd to know that, with all those millions of albums sold, drunken frat boys are probably staggering around to your music right now. Your audience grew far beyond your control.

BJA: Oh, totally! We became what we hated. Which is, the people I despised in high school--and now--are buying our records. We initially became a trend, so there was no way I expected to sell as many records with Insomniac as with Dookie. That's one of the biggest-selling records of the decade. We get slagged by the punk rockers, and it's like, I don't blame them. If you draw that much attention to yourself, that's what you're gonna get--attention--and it's not personal anymore.

RIP: Ever think about giving it all up?

BJA: There isn't a day goes by in the past year and a half that I haven't thought about quitting. I went to this party on New Year's Eve, and this band Juke, and another band, the Tantrums, played in a friend of mine's backyard. And a lot of my old friends showed up, and everybody was just dancing. And I was dancing, and getting really muddy, and I was having a great time. I can't remember the last time I sat down and listened to a record from beginning to end and felt this incredible spine-chilling music. And it's because I haven't been able to go out and watch bands play at my free will. I'm not gonna live in a closet, I'm not gonna vegetate myself.

RIP: But it has to be difficult, when tons of kids know your face. You're on your way to Michael Jackson-dom, where you have to wear a disguise in public.

BJA: If you think about the Beatles, at that time all people had to go by were the photographs on the records and every now and then a television appearance. So when they'd come to town, people would just flip out--it became this huge public event every single time. Whereas now, everything is so saturated kids don't even have to leave their home to go to a show anymore. They can sit in the comfort of their living room, and your favorite rock star is gonna be entertaining you while you sit down and have your microwave burrito.

RIP: The Milwaukee cops weren't pleased with aspects of Green Day's Milwaukee show last November. Why were you arrested?

BJA: I dropped the pick and--actually, I even forgot about it--I just mooned the crowd, which is pretty harmless compared to what I've done before. And I wasn't even thinking about it--I just went out and started playing again. Then I went backstage and was hanging out with Adrienne, and this guy Jimmy who does security for us goes "Come on--there's a car waiting for you outside right now. You've gotta get out of here!" I said "What's wrong?" and he said he didn't even know. So we get in the car and all of a sudden about ten cops come walking over, fully surrounding the car. So the guy puts the cuffs on me, throws me in the car, and I get tossed in the holding tank for two, three hours. I wasn't in the bullpen--I was in with the other ones, the not-so-bad ones. They made me take all my jewelry out. And my shoestrings, so I wouldn't hang myself or something. I dunno. I just don't know how to fit into rock music anymore. I don't know what I like about it anymore. I don't like anything about it anymore, to tell you the truth. To tell you the real truth, I'm a pretty miserable person right now. I'm totally depressed, and my wife can vouch for that because she's around me. In fact, she's the only person who's really around me. I dunno, the whole thing with the mainstreaming of punk rock. I just feel lost in the whole thing...I don't really know...I don't wanna...I dunno...It's miserable, it really is. It's f?!ked up.

RIP: For every original voice that comes along, there will be countless mad signing dashes for any and all sound-alike artists, with no thought given to the artist's longevity. Just throw the record out quickly and hope it sticks.

BJA: The thing is, a lot of musicians have gotten so comfortable with this big so-called "Revolution in Rock Music" over the past decade. First it was like, "F?!k the corporations! F?!k the corporations!" And then people just sorta got cozy with that, and forgot that these bands are getting lost in the shuffle. And I'm talking about the ones that never get noticed at all and just get kinda bitter. The 15 minutes of fame is getting shorter and shorter. And now music is totally going backwards--the first half of this decade, there were a few things going on that were interesting. It wasn't my favorite kind of music, but it had a sensibility about it. If you think about Nirvana and Pearl Jam and that whole Seattle scene, and even the Offspring--there was this thing going on that was more honest, in a lot of ways. It wasn't like, beer, drugs and pussy, like what went on through the '80s with all the hair bands. But now what we've got is Hootie & the Blowfish....

RIP: Who are probably a lot like you. They seem like nice, regular guys who--through no real fault of their own--are suddenly assimilated into pop culture.

BJA: Yeah, but that's the problem, is that they are nice regular guys. And they're totally comfortable with that, and they sort of put that out, to where they don't really have...I dunno, there's a certain amount of attitude that, say, someone like Cobain or Vedder has that they don't have. But it's becoming way not...real anymore or something. Maybe not real to me. It's just turning back into what it was in the '80s. It's like, "Hey, everyone! We're Huey Lewis and the News!" I dunno. Maybe nobody knows what the f?!k I'm talking about anymore.

BJA: I get so irritated by people. I think I'm more bitter than I've ever been in my whole life, to tell you the honest truth. I think Insomniac is much more of a bitter record than Dookie. And I think the older people get, the more they kinda get angry. I think a lot of people feel like they get cheated by lief somehow--no-one is ever completely satisfied. There's maybe a few. But I mean, I'm in a place where I don't really wanna be. It's like, sometimes I feel like we're losing our passion for playing music. And that's the f?!ked-up thing, when you lose passion for what you love, then it's like, Is this marriage headed for divorce or what?

RIP: Theoretically, you can fight back a couple of ways. Like Cobain, you could make a record almost calculated to offend all the bandwagon-jumpers. Or take as much time off as you'd like. Who says you can't go live on a desert island for two years?

BJA: That'd be nice. I'm just not enjoying life right now. I'm really not. I'm so cluttered, I can't even speak. Yeah, I do feel like I'm getting old, and I'm kinda bitter about that. I'm not excited about being onstage anymore, and I was really trying to convince myself that I was. Really. Before we did this last U.S. tour, every time I did an interview--I don't know if you read the last Rolling Stone piece--I was like "Yeah! I'm excited! I wanna play these arenas!" and stuff. And then just every night, it started sucking, it felt like a routine or something. It felt almost choreographed in a lot of ways. And I was yelling "f?!k you!" to people, but I didn't know who I was yelling "f?!k you" to anymore.

RIP: Last time we spoke, you said you went out of your way to change every single show, make each one different.

BJA: Well, I think it's just the stress of getting up in front of all those people all the time, every day. It's like, "Do I really feel like downing another f?!cking pot of coffee and a bottle of wine before I walk onstage to do this again? Just to get myself ready to go?" You know, for all those people. And every night I always do something different and stupid. But at the same time, it'd be really cool to just say "F?!k you!" to people and like, walk off. And then they'd get it. It's like, "I'm really telling you to f?!k off this time! Time to pack up and go home." It'd just be so nice to start from scratch again.

RIP: In many ways you can. That's the music-making system trying to program your behavior. And obviously you've broken quite a few rules already--you don't even have to be talking to me right now, actually....

BJA: Oh no. I really wanted to do this interview, just because the last interviews that I've done, I've been miserable, and I was pretending not to be. I really was, I was lying. Not to the reader, not to the person I was doing the interview. But I was lying to myself, convincing myself that I was really happy with how everything is going.

RIP: So you always knew what you wanted, and now you've got it, in spades. You're having trouble figuring out what's next?

BJA: I didn't even know what I wanted back then. I really didn't. I didn't know if I wanted to be huge, totally successful. I never knew that. I was struggling so hard even to sign that f?!king contract--when I was sitting there, I was contemplating, "Should I just run outta here right now? Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?" A lot of people say, "You're totally disillusioned with what money can do for people," but money never meant shit to me. There's something very passionate to me, very romantic, about living on the street in a lot of ways. Just because I really like my lifestyle back then. I was totally content, in retrospect. A lot of it has to do with the fame. I dunno, I'm trying to talk right now and just totally stuttering.

RIP: It's not like you chose music--it chose you, and you can't help it.

BJA: Yeah, it's cool when people really get it. But what a lot of people don't understand is that we're a band that's been around a lot longer than people know. And that's the thing. The difference between this and what happened between Kerplunk and Dookie--in a year, I got married, I had a kid, and I sold 11 million records worldwide. That can do something to ya, ya know?

BJA: Sometimes I think it'd be cool to just hang out with my friends, drink beer, smoke cigarettes. The more I think about it, the more I'd be really happy with that. I don't think that we're feeling quite like a band anymore--that's one problem we have. There was this certain rock 'n' roll underdog think that we always had--we always drove for something, always drove from town to town in a small van. And you know, I f?!kin' like touring like that--it's like culture shock, really, driving around in a van, setting up my amp when I get there, and playing. That's rock 'n' roll, that's what it started out as. A bunch of sweaty pigs in some tiny f?!kin' bar having a hootenanny, that's what punk rock was to me, that's what drove me to it. I love rock music in its simples, rawest form. And I think we're the only band, really, that plays rock 'n' roll.

RIP: Has all this put a strain on your old friendships? Do your pals treat you a little differently now?

BJA: When I come up to friends I haven't talked to in a while, there's a weirdness. And the ones who are really close to me don't really bring up anything, but that thing is still there; it's still in the air. And sometimes I'll just not say anything the whole time we're hanging out. I'll be totally quiet, because the only thing I'll have to talk about is my band, and I get so sick of talking about my band and myself. So I'll just be quiet, since that's the only thing there is to me, except for my son and my wife.

RIP: Pretty soon, you'll be boring everyone with slide shows--"There we are at Yosemite!"

BJA: Ha! Adrienne was telling me the other day, "When you were in there dancing with all your friends, while the band was playing, you were so happy because you were so in your element." And I've even gone as far as saying we're not a punk band anymore. But no matter what, that's still gonna stick with me forever, because I love the music, I love the energy of a new band coming out that creates this sense of urgency about 'em. I'll never be able to kick that habit. I love hangin' out with my friends who have small fanzines--kids just writing their guts out about whatever the hell's bothering 'em, and putting it on a Xerox machine and then handing it out for a quarter apiece at shows or at a party. All I wanna do is just try and work it out. I was sitting there the other day, counting all the records that the Replacements put out, stuff like that, Dan thinking how [Paul] Westerberg totally came across to his audience and did everything, everything that the wanted to do in music. He wasn't extremely successful for it, but the guy has influenced people, and a lot of 'em don't even know that they are influenced by him. All I wanna do is just write good songs and stick to it. I wanna develop--not being experimental--but go into different styles, go across my boundaries of the two-and-a-half minute punk song with a three-and-a-half minute jazz song, or maybe get into a little bit of swing or rockabilly.

RIP: With such staggering success, you could walk into Reprise and tell 'em you're doing an album of saxophone solos and they'd allow you that creative luxury.

BJA: Well, I never wanna be that experimental. I don't wanna get into synthesizers and shit like that. The thing that was cool for me with Insomniac was that I think we definitely set a foundation for ourselves, because we put out our hardest record to date, totally in-your-face all the way through, and now we're able to go anywhere we want. We can do that now--we do have that going for us. That is, if people are still interested. Which is kinda weird for me to say....

RIP: Your craft will always remain the most important thing of all, even if you're just writing for your own amusement.

BJA: Yeah. No matter what, I'm gonna be writing songs for the rest of my life. I mean, I already have a shitload of new songs right now. But I just wanna do some other things with it. We've sold a million of Insomniac so far. But I definitely want to be respected as a musician. Well, more as a songwriter than as a musician. I wanna be f?!kin' normal, is what I wanna be. The thing is, I've seen so many freaks and so many weirdos and crazy punk rockers and drunks and junkies. But for a lot of those people being weird is easy. It's so easy to be strange--the hard thing is to try to be normal. There's no such thing as normal, ya know.

RIP: How's your mom feel about all this?

BJA: She's kinda worried about me. She doesn't know what to think of everything. We have a hard time communicating with each other, just because I don't like to talk about it that much. So she feels like she has to walk on eggshells around me all the time.

RIP: You buy her anything cool once the money started rolling in?

BJA: Nah--she doesn't want anything. I've asked her. She's been living in the same house for over 20 years, and she's content living there. But I did give her a trip--she went to Hawaii, her and her boyfriend. And I think travelling is really good--if you paid for someone to travel, so they can go and explore and see some things they've never seen before. But I think that's probably where I get it from. I get so content with not having much. And then you get all this stuff, all this attention, and you don't really know what to do with it. You don't know how to channel it.

RIP: Most outrageous thing you've bought for yourself?

BJA: I got my car primered! And one thing I did do was build a home studio. So I've been recording all my friends' bands for free. I produced this band called Dead and Gone, and Social Unrest, Fetish and the Criminals. And I have this side-project called Pinhead Gunpowder--nothing's up with it right now, but we played at the beginning of '94 a few times. RIP: Sounds like you've got more than enough pressure valves to let off the steam. Still, do you worry about death?

BJA: Yeah, I do. But I have too many reasons to stick around. One is my son and my wife. And I don't feel like I'm finished yet. I'm not done, ya know? And the beauty of it is that death is forever and your problems aren't. And that's why I'm talking about my bad shit, because you vent that, you get it off your chest and you can move on to something else. There's gotta be a positive side to all this--so you just sort of try and dig it out. Get rid of all the bad--out with the bad air, in with the good air.

RIP: You said about Green Day that you think your "bandwagon is coming to a close and all that's gonna be left is just a band. Hopefully." So then will you start writing happy songs?

BJA: I thought about writing a totally sarcastic song called "I'm So Goddamn Happy," just talking about how happy I am. Actually, I'd like to put out a double record--I'd like to put out tons of music. But I never wanna become an egomaniac. I just wanna keep things down to earth, so I think it's really important for us to take a long break after all this stuff. We just put out two records back to back, one year after another, and now we can sit back and work on ourselves as people again. So we don't parody ourselves. And it's so hard to be a father and a musician at the same time. If I get into one thing and I pay close attention to it, like if I'm with Joey and I start neglecting my music, then I feel like I should play more often. So I start playing my music, and then I'm going, "Am I neglecting Joey?" So it becomes hard to do everything at the same time.

BJA: I wanna create a very mellow and sound atmosphere for him, because I don't wanna make any mistakes for him--I want him to be able to make his own mistakes. And even when it comes to swearing--I don't cuss in front of my kid. I'd rather him get it from some dirty-mouthed kid at school. Then at least I'd know, I could go "Thank God--my kid is in a real world and he's learning these things from his surroundings." That'd be a good thing. Because the best things you ever learn are the things you learn in kindergarten.

Finally, after more than an hour worth of gut-spilling, Armstrong suddenly observes four brace-faced girls, each no more than 12 years old, idling over by the cash register. They're there on the pretext of getting change. In reality, they just want to ogle punk icon and pin-up darling Billie Joe, stare at those caterpillar eyebrows and chiselled cheekbones up close. Another oh-my-gawd event. "I gotta go--it's gettin' weird," the reluctant rocker whispers, literally leaping up from the booth. "I can feel eyeballs all over me already...." And as fast as that, he's gone. "Was that...was that...B-B-B-B-Billie Joe?" stammers one swooner. "No," says the waitress, with a subtle smile. "That was just some guy who usually eats here alone, nobody famous at all. You know, just an average guy." A little white lie to herd the young 'uns out. But nevertheless the truth.

#i know it wasn't healthy for him #but i miss when he would use interviews as free therapy #the discussion about how he hates playing bigger shows is interesting #obviously he figured it out because i think he genuinely likes playing arenas/stadiums now #i wonder how he did that #like did he get tips from other rock stars #or did he just work thru his emotional baggage about selling out #article #interview #articles

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

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animaniacs - s1e54: brain meets brawn

episode summary: the boys live with dr jekyll for some reason, so rather than mind his own business, brain decides to drink all of the Potion That Makes You Hulk Out without considering the potential consequences.

as usual.

the rundown:

we open at dr jekyll’s house.

again, you can tell it’s dr jekyll’s house because it has his name written on it. this time, he has a fancy sign on a stick so everyone can see it from the street. convenient! especially if he is a doctor? i don’t know lol. i don’t think it ever specifies. maybe he just has a doctorate in Being Large and Green with no regards to the practice of medicine.

homeboy looks weirdly like granny from looney tunes. maybe that’s what the potion is for? instead of hyde, it just turns him into a grandma. that would be fun!

oh. well. my mistake.

maybe this was some kind of experiment? i don’t know. honestly, i don’t remember why jekyll makes the serum in the first place. presumably, he has the antidote on the table too, but, uh.

yeah. RIP that, or whatever. give it a rest, you oversized muppet, you’re scaring the mice.

(there are, as per The Course, mice here.)

“egad”, says our resident Exposition Pinky, “dr jekyll has turned himself into that fearsome mr hyde again, brain.” for all of his personal worry, though, brain doesn’t seem too bothered, and instead decides to make this all about himself, as usual.

“yes, pinky. if only i could find a way to use that savage strength.”

delightful! the closeups are back. unfortunately, it soon pans away from Two Inches From Brain’s Face to highlight the rest of the plot of the episode.

phweeeet. i’m not entirely sure why the police are here. maybe they just heard a table getting knocked over and broke into the guy’s house. going around bothering people for minor loud noises and doing absolutely nothing about real crime or people in danger does sound a bit like what our police like to do.

“ere, that’s the brute! take im!”

hm. in the background, big ben chimes Four Bong, and the carnage immediately ceases.

“four o clock! tea time!”

“scone?”

“delighted.”

that’s just how things work over here, i guess.

eventually, they manage to haul him off, with a “roight, it’s jayel for you, mister hyde”

leaving the mice alone to contemplate.

i don’t blame them. i would be contemplating too, on account i have no idea what the fuck just happened. he drank the potion of Summoning The Police, i guess? why did he drink it? why did they just turn up? we literally don’t see him again.

while pinky ponders whether kids would still buy them if they were called Sad Meals (and i know i would, but i doubt mcdonalds existed back then) brain has more pressing observations.

“the british are obsessed with tea time, pinky. everything stops when big ben strikes four.”

and what a slanderous observation it is! excuse me brain?

EXCUSE ME.

HOW VERY DARE YOU.

HOW VERY VERY okay yeah actually you’re probably right.

anyway brain’s plan is to stop big ben at 4pm so it’ll be Forever Teatime and he can take over the british empire while everyone is having tea.

AND THEN THE WORLD we get two weird closeups in this episode.

“but you’d have to be some kind of hulking, muscular giant to stop that clock, brain.”

“exactly. as they say in rustic circles, bottoms up.”

(hoo hoo. it’s funny because he’s stood on the pyrex jug, which is tall, so he himself is tall, and also “up”, and also he’s yknow what never mind.)

GLOG.

pinky’s over there immediately, as soon as brain gets down* asking if he’s okay or if he feels anything strange.

*yknow, as opposed to up.

he kind of gets in brain’s face about it until brain loses his patience and tells pinky that he is angering him, and would he please--

DONK.

“naaaaaaaarf.”

there he is! the big boy. as a sidenote, i’ve only actually seen his design in.... fanart. this is the first time i’ve watched this episode! i love how he still has a red nose for no reason. it does not fit the colour scheme at all.

(i speak directly to the patb discord: do not make this weird for me.)

anyway his first course of action is apparently to smash a table over pinky’s head for no reason.

BRUH. WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

pinky squeaks out a “sorry i angered you, brain.” which is sad, but

seems to have an effect.

anyway, from that they work out that brain Gets Large when he is made angry, and then Unlarges when the person who made him angry apologises.

“anger me, pinky!”

“but zounds, brain, i don’t want tooooo.”

“PINKY.”

DONK.

see? works a treat.

so with that figured out, the lads bugger off to big ben.

but first, pinky requests that they make the bells play john jacon jingleheimer schmidt.

conclusion:

they do have some trouble getting there.

“look brain! that cloud looks like a big pomegranate!”

donk.

brain does not have a lot of patience, as should be obvious. still, even Larged Out, brain has enough mental fortitude to head to the main entrance to big ben instead.

“americans.”

brain takes this as an insult, and pinky narrowly manages to stop him from just straight up murdering those dudes.

they are, however, thoroughly knocked out, so the mice consider this a victory and sneak in.

it’s big.

like, i’ve never been to big ben, but if it’s open to tourists it can’t just be a big room with a massive death pendulum in it, surely? maybe the victorians cared less about health and safety.

the mice are also less bothered about this than i am, apparently. “there it is, pinky. the main wheel of big ben.” stop that and you stop the world, apparently. HE WHO CONTROLS THE TEATIME CONTROLS ALL OF BRITAIN ok he doesn’t say that. he does, however, maintain that he can stop the gears as Large Brain if pinky then goes and dislodges the pallette.

“now, make me mad.”

“HEY YOU. DUMBDUMB.”

“come on, you can do better than that.”

“YOUR MOTHER IS-- OLDER. THAN YOU.”

“pinky! try harder, quickly--”

DONK.

epic.

so pinky goes to dislodge the pallette.

“ NO̡ P̵IN͘K̸Y͞,͜ ̢T͜H͟E̷ ͞PA̧L҉LETT̢E̛.” brain is still surprisingly coherent in Large Mode, though, compared to hyde. huh. maybe it’s because he’s a smartboy or something.

“oops, haha, sorry brain.”

oh no.

oh dear.

oh fuck.

hickory dickory bonk lol.

“oh, i’m sorry brain.” says pinky, who already knows which way the tally is going, and holds his arms out for a hug.

donk.

well isn’t this an interesting development.

“egad, brain. i don’t mean to keep saying i’m sorry.”

i feel bad for giving pinky this, because really it’s more social conditionning than his deliberate fault. still, the episode ends with pinky repeatedly smacking brain in the head to attempt to reLarge him, so it’s not all bad.

brain: 3 pinky: 5 outside influence: 5

“once we enter big ben, i’ll use my physical prowess to stop the wheel, while you dislodge the pallette and disrupt the intrinsic mechanism.”

“what if that doesn’t work?”

“we’ll...... throw a big wrench in it.”

#patb #pinky and the brain #a!#animaniacs #i'm not sure i'm a big fan of how like #victimising this episode is #it really does feel like they just randomly decide whether pinky likes brain or whether he's scared of him every episode lol

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elliotfm · 4 years

Text

hey guys ! i’m jules and i’m super excited to open; i have two super clingy cats in case any of you ever need a visual pick-me-up, i’m a uni student in canada and a Big skincare and dark chocolate junkie, more than likely gonna be typing replies while indulging in either jsyk ! i tried to keep it short since i’m a rambly bitch, but links to elliot’s basic stats and her wc page will be up soon — though i have some under the read more — as well as a playlist whenever i find the energy to set it up here FLDKSJGSD also pardon the lack of theme, i forgot the url for the preview and code link for the one i wanted to use but i’ll have it figured out shortly ! anyways, without further ado:

◤ * kim doyeon ; twenty-one ; cis female ; she/her — is that who i think it is over there ? outer banks very own kook , elliot hong . makes sense ‘cause i can practically hear into it by chase atlantic blasting through their headphones . plus who else would you find out at the boneyard right now ? some say they're pretty astute , but it's the imperious reputation i'd watch out for . i wonder if they're still a student / heiress and obsessing about keeping up with their bongs, random shoes and empty bottles of dom on the living room floor & a bite as big as her bark vibe . [ ooc ; jules/21+/nt/she/her ]

tw: drug and alcohol mention

the middle child of her parents, elliot is the fourth of her father’s five children

her mother is his second ( now ex — ) wife, though they remain cordial and have since moved on

grew up with a silver spoon, her dad being a wall street giant who would split his time between nyc and, once upon a time, connecticut — though it ultimately became a back-and-forth from nyc and the outer banks when elle was about four

her mother was adopted into an old money family ( on the lower end of that group ) in charlotte when she was a baby and had become something of a socialite when young, but shifted to becoming an entrepreneur. of what ?? i still haven’t figured that out LFJDGS

has a half-sister and half-brother from her dad’s first marriage, tallulah ( aka tally, a pain in my ass over on my indie fdlkjgs ) and bennett, and is basically a mini tally as all she really had were brothers and was Attached to her big sis whenever she’d visit

and as for her older and younger brother..... they might be wcs soon enough so we’ll leave that be for now DFLSGKJ

now onto ELLE ! she was the princess of the younger three hong kids, like the apple of her mother’s eye and her father’s Biggest tormentor

aka would hog the phone whenever he couldn’t come home for the night to tell him good night, hounded him to read her bedtime stories, pretty much always got her way in the most wholesome way when she was a kid

like i said before, moved to the obx when she was four because her mom used to visit when she was a kid and loved it; it was also due to its convenience in seeing her maternal grandparents regularly, its quieter nature in comparison to the affluent hubs for businessmen outside of manhattan and just in general

her dad just went along because it’s what his wife wanted and fuck it, at least the kids wouldn’t hound them to take them to places beyond their urban surroundings as often DLSFJDS

growing up, she wasn’t Too much of a brat but liked having the spotlight on her — she’d accredit it to tally’s influence AND her parents caving to her whims more often than not — and was very sociable and respectful even back in primary school

LOVED to explore, and, while not a tomboy per se, would take part in some activities her brothers or other boys in her grade participated in; be it to bond, trail along her siblings’ every move because she didn’t wanna stray far from action, or to prove that she can hold her own, she’d do it

uhhh overall a cute, if not high-maintenance, kid, but her teen years ?? yikes, people would be in for a ride bc this is when she REALLY started to emulate tally and shift her boldness towards riskier shit

basically could’ve been a main character on outer banks itself with her reckless antics and partying as a teenager…. and now, even SGDLKF

could’ve been considered a typical kook, save for her wild streak; she could hang with the pogues and wouldn’t let her slight superiority complex come into play unless she was challenged or something, otherwise she’d chase the party and the fun wherever she could find it

loves fashion and being the hottest in the room, didn’t need to step on toes to get further but would do so at times Solely to make a point/to call someone out on their shit

is now attending columbia u, rather she’s taking a Break as she makes sure she’s content with the path she’s taking ( aka being the trashy 21 year old she wants to be, chilling at the family home with just her siblings and daddy’s money with no Major worries involving the near future )

isn’t the most studious person, but she’d gotten far enough to begin wrapping up her major whenever she decides to head back

though.. the entire time has been mostly spent sleeping with some of her rich friends, drinking and smoking pot, with the occasional hit of whatever clean enough drug that one of her friends had on them

also spent a lot of her time meeting up with her socialite big sis as a plus one to some cooler events, so while she’s not famous, her name has made the rounds where it matters given her surname’s already established relevance in nyc

when she’s not getting an education and is homebound instead, she’s pissing off her neighbours with her house parties at the family home on the beach, doing dumb shit the second she’s inside of a gala or club — albeit with partial discretion that’s completely ignored whenever around other young adults — and just chilling poolside and staying hydrated fgkldjsg

personality and shit

if i were to use a label to describe her, she'd be a mix between the princess/baby doll, the hedonist and the reveller i think ?? i don’t even know where to place her LKSDFGJLK

self-confidence is through the roof, KNOWS she’s pretty and doesn’t really let rumours or negativity get her down — aside from wanting to unleash hell if someone keeps irritating her for whatever reason

she’s messy as hell, but around the uptight, live-through-your-kids parents of kooklandia she puts on the façade of a poised young woman who has Some fun because she knows it bodes well.. only even then, she doesn’t maintain it bc honestly, who cares —

she’s not a complete dick per se, but she can be snide and boastful when provoked

has something of a superiority complex, independent and lives lavishly with reckless abandon

non-committal yet sensible when it comes to who she sleeps with; typically has a couple of stable fuck buddies but has had some one night stands if she’s feeling it

keeps her true inner circle small, but gets off on attention and likes to stay cordial with some people, so she’s got quite a few friends all the same

like i said earlier, will hang with the pogues and thinks the whole class rivalry thing is kind of stupid when it means sticking with her own would mean dealing with parent pleasers, polo shirt enthusiasts and either being too straight-laced or too destructive for her liking

.. so she’s a far cry from her sister in that regard, otherwise rip GLSKJ

though that doesn’t stop her from unleashing her pompous attitude onto a pogue when it seems appropriate, aka doing anything to piss her off

there really isn’t much to expand on tbh, though i will say that her emboldened nature and need for a good time however she can get it comes out more than her uglier side ( except her vanity. that’ll never go away KSFDG )

some quick plot ideas

a childhood friend or two, pretty standard idea there

could carry over into a trio type of thing depending on where she stands with either of them, or they’re a different couple of pals she’s made over the years

family friends, aka nyc kids or people who’ve rubbed elbows with either of elle’s parents, though they don’t Actually have to be friends of course JGDSFKL

her best friend and confidante, someone she can have cute moments with between the chaos and one of the few people that elle would probably accost someone for if they hurt the other in any way

enemies are always fun ! probably rooted in a competitive streak more than anything else but i’m all ears for a more complex reason

ex-hookup(s), current hookup(s), throw it all at me klgfjd

a hateship/ewb would be fun with her too, oh my god sfdgklj

FAKE FRIENDS !! either in the past or currently, probably stayed friends for the sake of their appearances but have a lot of quiet disdain for each other — though elliot wouldn’t be too bothered by that situation beyond being around someone she deems soul-sucking, face value hype and knowing they probably need her more than she needs them gives her too much satisfaction fkskgls

an ex-something, open to anyone. either someone her parents forced on her to straighten her out a tad that she wound up liking…. after a good period of her telling them to fuck off sdglk or someone she’d been seeing for a while at her own accord, likely someone her parents wouldn’t approve of so readily. would’ve ended the same way: with her calling it off because she didn’t want to settle down, not even for a relationship ( and perhaps bc she’s scared of commitment with her cracked family dynamic that’s been a thing since birth, but that’s another story jsdfkg )

or we can just as easily do high school exes who only really stayed together until graduation bc their parents were being Some level of overbearing with how they’d be such a good couple — not that there was nothing there, just nothing beyond sex and being some kind of status symbol to each other, idk lfkgsd

her designated event pals would be super fun ?? sdgkflj like they go to all of these big parties and galas with their families, break off to do their own thing bc those events are boring as fuck, and head back to her place before she throws an after-party of sorts. they’d be decent friends beyond this though, them being someone she trusts a good bit compared to others in her circle

#╰ 💎 . ❪ 𝐖𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐒 ↝ jules talks ｡#outertmintro #tw drugs #tw alcohol #now that that's done i can get some water bc i'm Parched FGDSJKL

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baby-brightmonster · 3 years

Text

Leading Man: Chapter 1

The moment you’ve all been waiting for. Just kidding no one asked for this. On with the show.

Laughter and smoke, filled the room as they expelled from her mouth like a dragon. Maya’s friends laughed and quipped along with her. Her closest friend, Bridget found the script on an end table.

“Oh shit you didn’t tell us you have a new job lined up,” she mentioned setting down the bong on the coffee table.

“I don’t,” she told her. “It’s just a reading, they want to hear me sing, I doubt I’ll get it,”

“Positive,” her other friend Skyla mentioned sardonically.

“No, they want me to play Lydia, of all things, I can’t play Lydia I’m too old, I’m 26 for God’s sake. There is no way I get that role,” Maya informed, not mad, not bitter at all, she just did not think she was right for it. “They even told me to just go in and read,”

“When do you go into read?”

“Like next week,”

“Who are you reading with, do you know?” Maya shook her head, and went for another hit.

“I heard it’s going to be the dude from School of Rock,” Skyla quipped looking at her phone, “How cool would that be? I mean, how many times did you see that show?”

“Literally only twice,” Maya said a little too defensively, with people the truth of the matter was that she had watched it another time by herself, she remembered him.

“Crap what was his name again?” Bridget mentioned in a tone that felt like baiting.

“Alex,” Maya and Skyla answered at the same time. Maya from memory, Skyla from her phone. She remembered him, he was magnetic, funny, wonderful voice. He was the perfect lead, she didn't stand a chance.

“...totally fucking gone! It was hilarious!” Skyla giggled while Bridget clapped and guffawed.

“Sorry, I zoned out, what happened?” Maya muttered.

“Yeah you zoned out,” Bridget quipped. “Dreaming about Alex, were you?”

“You’re so stoned right now,” Skyla commented. “I was telling Bridget about how when we see the show, you could not take your eyes off of him, the whole time, and he was on stage, the whole time.”

“Funny how that works with him being the lead.” Maya quipped. “And he was good,”

“Real good.” Skyla said lewdly. “She looked him up through the playbill,”

“Shut up,” Maya growled,

“Followed him on Twitter,”

“Shut up,”

“Wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how he was sooo talented,”

“Fuck off Sky,”

“Downloaded the soundtrack,” Sky mentioned. “After that everything was Alex, so great, so talented, she was like a twelve year old girl around him,”

“Thank you Skyla,” Maya finalized. “Great, I’m totally not nervous, or anything?” They gently ribbed her a while, joking about how she would be doodling “I heart AB” in her algebra book, they continued to drink, and their night went on after they mercifully, moved on from the topics.

A week passed, and then it was time for the reading. Maya came in with her bag, with her sides, her heels clicking on the hard tile, In the mean time, she had signed up to dance in a music video, so despite her aching feet, she still dressed up a little. She liked to look nice wherever she went, blaming the Old Guinea mentality she had grown up with, always look good when you leave the house. Her black lace dress and heels were par for the course, the red lips were just a trademark. She looked more like Morticia Addams than Lydia Deetz. Plus one look at the wispy little teenagers that she walked past showed that she was just there for the reading to show some little girl how it was really done. Nevertheless, she liked the show she thought it was funny, and heartwarming she would have loved to have been a part of it.

“The idea that I want to do here, is I want to convey that it’s manipulative, but still kind of, charming you know?” The director tried to explain using hand gestures. “Think big bad wolf,”

“That’s a great idea yeah,” he responded bent over the script. The directors head perked up at the sound of her heels.

“There she is! Thanks so much for coming Maya,” Timbers greeted as he walked up to her and grinned, she shook his hand, not a hugger.

“Of course, happy to help,” she responded flashing a smile.

“You know, Alex?” Timbers asked good-naturedly, they made eye contact and her stomach did flips. His eyes looked like a glass of whiskey held up to the light, then he smiled at her, and she melted.

“No, I have never had the,” do not say it Maya, “pleasure,” oh god, Alex shook her hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” he greeted, And when he said ‘hi’ I forgot my damn name…

“Likewise,” Maya replied brightly.”I’m Maya, I’m here to make you feel tall,” He chuckled, sending an army of butterflies all over Maya’s body.

Don’t look at her dress, or her lips, he chided himself. He did not want to be the asshole in this case, he did not know how old she was, that she was in a few shows, quite a few shoes, as he found out later. She had been on one stage or another since she was ten years old. She cut her teeth with dancing. As shown by her legs. Timbers had told him so, triple threat, and she wrote. The director had told Alex it was between the dancer, Maya, he corrected himself and Sophia who was admittedly younger. He and Sophia had sang together in the first test, and he was rooting for her, Maya sat around with her long, shapely, legs crossed gushing to Leslie about how she loved her in a film she saw a few years back. Stop looking at her legs, he reminded himself, keeping his eyes glued to his notes. Okay, okay, its fine, I’m married not blind, he rationalized. She’s a pretty girl, that’s it. Timbers told them to get started, having Maya go first.

“Look babes,” he said using this gruff voice that he wanted to do for the show. Maya tensed, he carried on. “we can help out each other, you don’t like your dad, I don’t like my mom, she doesn't get me,” she was so - taken with him. 'This is A problem' she decided, the other girl's faces were captivated. They could not wait to sing with him, the youngest was bouncing and joking along an endearing way, Mays smiled back, she reminded her of her own little Sister. If the role would not go to Maya, she hoped this kid got it. Maya tried her best not to laugh, it was just a reading.

“You could use a buddy,” he sang in the voice, at that cadence it was less funny, “don’t you want a pal?” He slid over to her, feeding off the laughter in the room. “Yes, I do, yes I do,” sneaking an arm around her. Oh, fuck he smells good, she thought with the utmost dread. She miraculously, got every cue, thanking God that the script was in front of her as she doubted she could remember anything right now.

“Okay, what’s your name?” Maya sang getting into it, Alex, then snapped his eyes up and down her body and walked closer to her.

“What’s my name?” He questioned, never breaking eye contact tilting her face towards him. “I’m the best you’ll ever get, girl,” she cleared her throat stepping away from him.

“B-be a doll and spare the lecture,” she sang back getting herself together.

I am so screwed, Maya thought. If I have to work with this guy it’s going to get real messy, the song went on, with Alex begging her to “free him” dropping to his knee in front of her and grabbing her hips, with a wink to show he was just messing with her. She hoped she was not as obvious as she felt, her hands were trembling and her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

“Beetlejuice,” she said, her hand without consulting her brain, ran itself through his hair. He got up to his feet, his hands still on her hips.

“Yes,” he husked, and that growl that he did, got her right where it counts. The heels put her at his eye level which made it easier for him to look at her, with a sneaky little smirk that knocked the wind right out of her.

“Beetlejuice,” she breathed. Great idea, she thought. I’ll play too, she snaked her hand up his neck to his face, brushing her fingertips behind his ear. He squeezed her arm, a cough from one of the girls brought Maya back to reality.

“Yes….” He cocked an eyebrow his smirk going to a grin.

“Beee,” she sang running her hands up his chest smoothing over his shoulders. She then comically, pushed him away. Along with the guilt she felt. He’s taken. “Cause! You’re so smart a stand up role, I’ll think about your offer let you know, but I should take my chances down below.” He straightened up and smiled at her, a genuine smile out of character, Maya fixed her gaze on the book in front of her, she would need a cold shower after this. Just in case he could not push it any further, the grunts he made in the next verse. “Okay, Beetlejuice,” moan, “Beetlejuice,” a whimper. “Being young and female doesn’t mean that I am an easy mark,” the petulant growl he gave her was enough to send her off the edge. As she sang her solo part, Alex stood back with his arms crossed over his chest smiling at her tapping his foot to the piano music. Mercifully, the song ended and Maya thought she would faint.

“Ok let’s take a small break,” Timbers mentioned. “Anyone need some water,”

“Maybe a cigarette,” Rob McClure joked, causing Alex to shoot him a look. “What?”

“Yeah, I, um,” Maya stammered. “Need to make a call.” She all but ran out of the room.

“Brightman, a word,” his agent said charging towards the door. He was about confront Rob about what the hell he meant by that cigarette comment but followed the other man anyway. The door shut and they sat in the hallway. “What the fuck was that?”

“What? She did great,” he argued. “Good voice, and they said they wanted someone who could dance, so,”

“‘What’ you know damn well ‘what’, half the people in there were expecting you to rip her dress off, when you called her ‘Baby’ I thought she was going to blow you,” he ranted.

“I’m supposed to be creepy,” Alex tried to defend, the truth of the matter is, he did not even know, she just drew him in, and maybe it was because she was older that he thought he could get a little raunchier with the song. Yeah, no one is going to buy that. He was an idiot, her manager had mentioned she was so excited to work with him and he acted like, well, a creepy old guy.

“That wasn’t creepy,” the other man argued. “That was you picking her up, which circles back to my original point - what the fuck dude?!”

“I,” he tried, just dropping any pretense. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Good talk her out of suing,”

“Were you there?” He barked. “She was into it, I felt how she grabbed my hair, how she touched my chest,”

“She’s an actress that’s her job dumb ass,” he bit back. “Look. I don't care who you do, frankly you can take her doggy style in the bathroom for all it matters to me, just don’t let anyone see you, you can’t get mixed up with that bitch,”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Don’t defend her honor,” he said sarcastically. “The next one is fifteen try not to grope her too,”

“Fuck off man,” Alex grumbled as he went to go find Maya. Sure enough she was on the phone, speaking rapidly in what sounded like Spanish? She was laughing, so that was a good sign. When she spoke slower he registered it as Italian. God, it sounded beautiful coming from her. She caught his gaze and smiled, hurrying whomever it was off the phone.

“Hey,” she said brightly. She put her phone away, in her dress as she folded her hands formally in front of him.

“Hi,” he replied. “Oh, your dress, has pockets?” She chuckled.

“Yes, it does,” she answered giving him a kind smile. Get it together, he scolded himself. He must have been silent for too long because she followed it up with, “I can give you the name where I go it,” he chuckled and shook his head.

“I just, I wanted to say sorry, I think I went pretty overboard in there,”

“Oh, no,” she told him, “That back there? Please! I once had to tango with a guy who actually cupped my peesh in front of a live audience, which included my parents,” Alex laughed, oh hell, he thought. she’s funny. “I would have done something if you had really crossed a line, you’re okay,”

#there's a lot to unpack here #alex exists and i am forever grateful #Alex Brightman #just strikes me as someone with foot in mouth disease

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spacebabehargrove · 4 years

Text

More oc stuff

Tw: death, major character death, mentions of self harm/sh scars, chronic pain

Veil is a psychic and can communicate with ziggy and sol

Sol and veil are mine, Chet and ziggy are Toni’s @harringrovetrashrat

I cried like four different times trying to write this lol

Veil sat at the edge of the bed, sighing.

Everyday was hard. It only seemed to be getting harder. For gods sake, veil had a whole breakdown over finding one of Sol’s hairties the other day. Sol spoke up in her head.

“Good morning angel face.” Are her words. Veil sniffled as the tears start up.

“My face isn’t all that angelic when it’s crying sol.” She says. Sol refutes with a

“You’re always an angel, even if you’re crying.”

Sometimes veil can’t help but laugh at what sol says. She’s so sweet and funny. She always has been. Chet is still asleep behind veil, which is probably why ziggy hasn’t spoken up yet.

“Let’s get you dressed veil.” She says softly, and veil nods with tears streaming down her face. It’s always hard in the mornings.

“What are you feeling today baby?” Sol asks.

“Soft and loose” veil tells her softly.

“Grab that black sweater I have. The knitted one you got me.”

“I got that so I could steal it from you.” Veil reminds her as she puts it on. The scars on her neck aren’t covered by this one. But veil didn’t really plan on going anywhere today. She didn’t go out much anyways.

“You’ve got those black sweats I have, or the black skirt you like.” Veil chooses Sol’s sweats. They’re huge on veil, and she has to pull the drawstrings as tight as they’ll go in order for them to fit. Even then, they’re still big. But veil loves them. Theyre Sol’s.

“Baby, you want some gloves?” Sol asked. Veil looks down at the scars across her hands. When has she even done those ones? She didn’t like those ones all that much. They were really puffy, and still a bit red. They spanned across the top of her hands like they were spiderwebs.

“I’m okay sol. I think I’m just gonna stay here today, unless Chet needs to go somewhere.” Veil says as she stands.

“I feel like such a creep, stalking you.” Sol says and veil chuckles a bit.

“There’s my pretty smile.” Sol says. Veil smiles for a second before more tears fill her eyes. The smile wobbles for a bit before veil breaks out into sobs.

“I’m sorry baby.” Sol says gently.

“Not your fault sol.” Veil whispers as she walks out the room to the kitchen. Veil hasn’t been eating all that much. She’ll cook for the others, but she hasn’t been eating a lot. She almost feels like she’s lost some weight.

Grief will do that to you.

Veil walks to the fridge, opening to see what she’ll make the others for breakfast.

“Can you eat something for me?” Sol asks gently. Veil sniffles, her eyes red and puffy as she looks to the counter.

“A grapefruit?” She asks sol.

“That’s perfect baby.”

Veil picks up the grapefruit, a spoon, and some sugar and makes her way to the table. She looks over at the spot sol would sit. Sol always sat next to veil. Whatever the occasion was. At a restaurant, at home, on tour. Wherever it was, sol was always next to veil. It was their thing.

Veil starts to cut the grapefruit, sighing as she does. That itch is back. The itch to hurt her skin again.

“Veil baby, focus on eating.” Sol gently reminds her. Veil tries to snap back to what she was doing, but it keeps coming back to cutting. She sets the knife down, the grape fruit only half open.

“I can’t do this sol.” She says softly as she stares at the grapefruit.

“Sol i-I can’t-“

“Baby, baby it’s okay.” Sol says gently. Veil is sobbing again.

“Go join Chet.” Sol says. So veil stands and makes her way back to the room, where Chet is waking up.

“S-sol said to come join you.” Veil said softly. Chet has a pretty good idea why sol told her to join him. He’s half awake, but his heart is still hurting.

Ziggy visited him in his dreams last night, the two of them cuddling in bed. It was rather bland, he supposed. If ziggy could visit them in his dreams, then why didn’t they go to France? Or New York?

Neither of them wanted that though. They much preferred cuddling in bed and talking.

Ziggy talked about his time with sol. Sol was worried about veil, and so was ziggy. Chet promised to keep an eye on her. Chet talked to ziggy about his life, as if ziggy wasn’t watching every move he made. Chet knew he would never move on. Yeah, he’d fuck around with Thad, but nobody could take ziggys spot. Ziggy was understanding. As much as ziggy wanted Chet to find somebody to make him happy, they both knew neither of them wanted that.

Ziggy was it for Chet. If Chet died an old man who never married, so be it. At least at that point he’d be lucid enough to talk to ziggy more. Ziggy would scold him. Tell Chet he needed to not think about being an old man, he was gonna make ziggy feel old. That was just how ziggy joked. And Chet was so thankful for that. Chet didn’t think he’d make it thru this if ziggy wasn’t like that.

As veil sobbed in chets chest, he held her tight. Sol visited him a lot too. They played football, but sometimes they’d sit and watch a game together. They got a lot of talking between them done. Sol made him promise to take care of veil, as if Chet wasn’t already planning on doing so. If veil and him were the old couple across the street when they grew older, Chet had no issue with that. Veil was a sweet girl anyways. Veil was a sister to him. Of course he was going to take care of her. Chet asked the same of Sol, and of course sol promised him. Sol and ziggy may not have been as close as Chet and veil, but they were surely getting there. Sol gave updates on ziggy. Telling Chet how ziggy called chets outfit ugly the other day. Granted, it was pretty ugly. Even sol agreed with that one. Sol talked about what ziggy and her talked about. Ziggy was so funny to sol, she was glad he was the one she was stuck with in wherever the fuck they were.

Veil looked up at chet.

“It’s starting to hurt.” She said quietly. Chet nodded softly. He knew veils body fucking sucked. It caused her so much pain. He hated that.

“Z-ziggy says he loves you.” She says softly to Chet. Chet smiles softly down at her.

“I love him too.” He tells her softly. Veil nodded and held onto chet a bit tighter. That angry fire started to rush across veils skin. The kind of fire that burned hotter and hotter with every passing minute. Burned so hot that all of veils thoughts seemed to vanish. Including her way to talk to sol and ziggy.

“Don’t leave me sol.” Veil sobbed softly as she gripped onto Chet tighter. The pain in veils voice caught Chet off guard. He looked down at the girl, tears in his own eyes as she sobbed.

“Don’t leave sol…please don’t leave.” She cried out as the pain finally flared higher. Her soft sobs turned into pain filled ones. Nothing sounded pretty. Sol always said veil had a certain way of making everything sound pretty, calm, comforting. Even veils crying was pretty somehow. But this wasnt. These sobs ripped thru Chet harshly. It sounded as if she was actively being murdered in his arms. It was horrible. Her sobs sounded like jagged glass. Chet held her close to him, unsure of what else he could do. From what sol had told him, there wasn’t much he could do.

It was such a shitty thing. Even after veil had been clean for going on two years, those scars still gave her so much trouble. The doctor says something along the lines of, the constant trauma damaged a lot of her nerve endings. The type of scars veils body produced ended up hurting her more than helping her. She has chronic pain, and there’s no sign of it ever going away. She’s been prescribed medicine, but they only help so much. When the damage is all over your body, there’s not much medicine can do for you.

“You left!” Veil suddenly cries out when Sol’s voice quiets down. This upsets veil even more. Chet rubs her back softly, kissing her head.

“She’s right here veil, she’s still with us. I promise she is.” Veil’s sobs worsen.

“I can’t here her!” She cries. Chet’s heart hurts even more hearing that. Chet wishes things were much different. He wishes ziggy was here to help him out. He wishes sol was here to help him out. He knows veil feels the same way.

It’s the other way around sometimes. Veil holds Chet as he sobs, screams, begs for his lover back. Begs for his best friend back. The two of them switch off. Except for the days they’re both a mess. They stay in bed, sobbing and holding one another until they fall asleep again. It’s hard. It’s so fucking hard living without the two most important people in their respective lives. The grieving process is horrendous for the both of them. It’s a pain that never seems to go away. And in veils case, a pain that will start another one. Chet holds veils small figure in his arms, looking down at her. No wonder sol was so obsessed with veil. She’s the perfect girl it seems like. It’s how he felt about ziggy. Sure, there were many men in the world that Chet thought were hot, handsome, lovable. But ziggy was it for Chet. Ziggy was his favorite man.

Veil must have been Sol’s favorite girl.

They spend a good four hours in bed, until Veil is too tired out to cry anymore. Until Chet starts to watch her eyes close. Chet decides he wants to see ziggy. So, he closes his eyes and drifts off with veil in his arms.

Chet ‘wakes up’ in the living room this time, ziggy hitting his bong next to him. Chet grins wide, seeing his lover next to him.

“Hey Baby!” Chet grabs ziggy close, ziggy giggling hard.

“You’re gonna ruin my hit!” Ziggy complains, but with a huge grin on his face. Ziggy holds chets face in his hands, moving into his lap.

“You’re a good friend to her, Chet.” Ziggy says, talking about veil. Chet smiles.

“She’s amazing, how couldn’t i?” He asks. Ziggy groans.

“Sol won’t fucking shut up about it.” He rolls his eyes, but they both know he is just joking.

“Is sol saying the same thing about you?” Chet teases. Ziggy grins.

“Perhaps.” The two spend the night kissing, watching some late night television. And when Chet wakes in the morning, it’s as if ziggy was there the entire night. When veil wakes, he can tell her and sol had a good night. She wakes up happy, for the first time in what seems like months.

“Ziggy says good morning.” She says softly.

“Good morning ziggy.” Chet says.

“Good morning sol.” Veil says softly before sitting up. The two of them start their morning routines, feeling at least somewhat better than the day before.

#oc #oc tag

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