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dirtytransmasc · 1 year

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this post is gonna seem so fucking random, and its really not at all important, tiktok is just being tiktok, and I have something to say that really doesn't mean shit but would get me flamed on that hellsite, and I hate not saying whats on my mind, even when its in my best interest so I'm saying it here, cause I can, just ignore me.

there seems to be this devote group of people in the SoC's fandom (*cough cough* I've only seen them on tiktok, and they're always those types of fans, that just like, care way to much about others opinions. *cough cough*) who hate people who see the dynamic of kaz and wylan as a father/son-esque relationship, like getting all types of mad about it. again it was like 5 or 6 people, but it was enough to make me really think about it and then proceed to get pissy, cause I'm a stubborn asshole at heart who can't just drop something once it's pissed me off, and it really only pissed me off cause someone said interpreting them like that was "infantilizing gay men" and I just... no, please no, that's not at all whats happening, I promise.

so here's my unnecessary two cents, cause I can't just move on;

what would you like me to call their dynamic hmm? kaz is only a bit older in age, but forced himself to mature and take on burdens that make him much older then he is, burdens he won't let anyone take off his shoulders. while he is very much like a mentor or older brother to wylan, trying to be who he needed after losing jordie, his role within the group as a whole puts him into much more of a caretaker role. he's the dad of the group, he is provider and protector, he is the brawny brains so to speak, a very paternal energy as head of the 'family'. he is the protector of his crows, he takes care of them, all of them, in his own fucked up ways, being what they need him to be. he would do anything for them, even if he tries to hide it, and this typically ends up with him in one way or another taking on a nurturing role of sorts (describing this man is so hard, cause his internal vs. external actions are so fucked by his mental state. going above and beyond for him and like bare minimum to the average person, and I don't know how to verbalize it). factor that into the fact that wylan lacks a father figure, a good one at least, he naturally plays that role in a very similar way that an older brother or mentor would fill the void of a younger sibling/mentee. wylan also looks up to and takes after kaz a lot, which points into the father/son-esque vibes. all in all, no they aren't your traditional father/son dynamic, but like, that's the closest simple term I can slap on them, cause I'm not giving this little speech a million times. their dynamic is messy and layered and complicated by both of their metric tons of trauma, paired with the overall found-family/trauma-bond thing those littles shits got going on over there. let them be messy and let me just sat father/son for my sanity, I beg (if someone tells me I'm infantilizing wylan cause he's gay/dyslexic/autistic-coded I'm gonna have a stroke, I just want my boys to be vaguely happy and have some semblance of family alright, and sure, maybe my daddy issues play into it, but that's none of your goddamned business)

please say I'm not the only one to encounter those fans, and please tell me this makes sense to someone, I beg of you.

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ikemenfics · 3 years

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The Kiss That Begins with C

Word Count: 1983

Happy valentine’s: The finale of our crazy crack comes to an end!

“They went aft th' Uesugi Takeda alliance, too?” The white haired man leaned back, looking all but flabbergasted hearing the recent events regarding the Oda and Takeda incidents. “They mad? That’s madness.”

The messenger nodded, agreeing with the pirate warlord, “There were no casualties though. That’s the strangest part…” They sat, contemplating their sake as they spoke.

“So ye're tellin' me that a lone figure broke into th' Oda 'n Uesugi castles. Nah only that, they went aft th' warrior monk, too. Hmm..." an idea spawned into Motonari’s head. If he could get ahold of the geniuses that broke into the castles AND got to the warrior monk, that could spell complete chaos on all sides. Motonari’s face broke into a grin at the thought, dismissing his subordinate.

"Now all that's needed be gettin' th' apparent trespassers t' come t' me."

Elsewhere, around a table sat figures playing cards. One perked his head up, gave a nod, then excused himself from the game. Another figure reached to peek at his cards but found his hand smacked away before he could eye the hand.

Motonari had wandered into the woods. His intention was to question Kennyo himself, as an “ally”, about the recent drama. After all, Kennyo had also failed to take the town he had planned to raid. There was definitely suspicious intelligence at work and if it was against Oda, Takeda/Uesugi, and Kennyo...they were people he definitely wanted to see.

His vision warped and he nearly fell over as his mind tried to reorient itself. A point pierced reality, slicing cleanly downward. A figure in white stepped from the tear in the world, giving a bow of flourish.

“Pardon me,” the man said, raising from his bow, “My name is Edgar and I have been commanded to bring you this.” A small bag appeared in the man’s hand and was tossed towards the pirate warlord. “You are to use this to bring joy-”

[Now’s me chance] Motonari didn’t let Edgar finish. He charged towards the man, hitting him near his midsection, knocking him off balance. The two tumbled into the tear in reality, Motonari already standing to dash away into the realm behind the tear. Edgar stood and considered giving chase. “It seems, I must notify the king of my failure.”

Figures at the table started placing their cards down. “Straight.”

“Gay!”

“I got nothing.”

“Pair...10’s.” “Two pair, queens and aces.” “Go fish.” “Wrong game, but good try.” “What did Edgar have, though…” another hand reached for his cards. “Royal Flush..ace high. How?!” Before the conversation around the table could continue, a figure burst into the room, rushing past the players without a word. Several pairs of confused eyes followed him as he left, Edgar close behind. “My king…” Edgar panted, “we have a breach.”

Chaos erupted as everyone stood, dawning back their full uniforms, preparing to apprehend the man. “Wait.” The red king glanced in the direction Motonari had gone, “Reinforcements might be needed. We can’t risk the citizens.” “Agreed,” the black king nodded.

Orders were given and soon the members all split in two directions, some towards the border of reality, others into Cradle.

You were walking through the halls, delivering various repaired garments to their respective owners when the world warped. “AGAIN?!” Was all you could cry before familiar aqua hair appeared. “Yoohoo~!” Seth stepped into reality, followed by a figure you’d never seen before. His companion was tall...very tall. You craned your neck to get a good look at him. He stared down at you and you were sure he started hunching so you wouldn’t have to look up so far. “We need your help,” the man said, “Where is your king?”

You and your new guests arrived at the war room to alert Nobunaga and co. There wasn’t a meeting and messengers had to be sent, leaving time for introductions between you, Sirius, and Seth Hyde. “A queen? But you’re a...?” You trailed off, letting the question hang lest you accidentally offended someone. “Not that kind of queen, little lady.” “More like a queen in a deck of cards, second to the king, as it were.”

The war room doors slid open with a loud thwack as men charged into the room. “Motonari has done what?!” Hideyoshi’s cry preceded him as men filed into the room.

You explained, “They said that Motonari walked through the tear that the strange man with the chocolate had made. They are asking for help in tracking him..” “I can track him easily.” Mitsuhide turned to Nobunaga, awaiting his orders.

“You can’t track him in another land, Mitsuhide,” came Hideyoshi’s response, “Even you aren’t that talented. Damn that thrice cursed cur for causing all this trouble! Nobunaga-sama, let me lead men into the realm and we will bring him back for your justice.” “Hey, now,” Sirius interrupted, “Calm down. We have armies, we need someone who knows the pirate to help us track him. We don’t need more war on our hands.”

“I will *not* calm down. Not while that lunatic pirate heathen is out there causing trouble.” “So you’re just going to make more trouble for everyone trying to stop his? Great plan,” Ieyasu crossed his arms, watching Hideyoshi fume.

“If we’re sending people out to track, I can help,” Masamune said, “I got speed to go with Mitsuhide’s intelligence. We’ll bring him back in no time.” “And probably with half your parts missing, too,” Ieyasu muttered to no one in particular. “I haven’t lost any yet!” “Care to adjust that eyepatch? I think it’s blinding your good eye.” Nobunaga raised a hand, all bickering coming to a halt. “I will send Mitsuhide and Masamune.” He stood, intending on leaving the war council when a thought struck him, “You’ll take my lucky charm with you. I can’t risk losing two of my best to this task.”

Meanwhile, in a tower, two men sat and discussed a possible alliance. “YOu are telling me you can rid me of both armies and all I have to do is give you lodgings? You can’t be serious.” “I be perfectly serious. I needs them in chaos as much as ye do.”

Amon sighed, moving a bishop across the board, “Then it seems I have little choice as you already ransacked much of our stash. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“A scallywag has t' throw away all th' rules o' fightin' if he hopes t' survive th' sea. Thar be no honor outside o' yer crew among pirates. Even then…”

And so it was that you, Masamune Date, and Mitsuhide Akechi found yourselves in Cradle. It was a wonder to your eyes. You’d read about the elaborate rose gardens of Europe, but nothing quite correctly encompassed what assaulted your senses. The roses were perfectly red and bushes all but made a wall around you. There was a large table, a red and black table cloth covering the wood. You found other figures and a shocking sight. “Shingen-sama?! Yukimura-kun? And Sasuke-san?!” Yuki blanched but Shingen was quicker, “Ah, so they have acquired the aid of a goddess. I do not have to worry so much about being out of my element, for surely we now have luck on our side.”

“Masamune,” a man whom Sirius had been speaking with while you gawked approached, “You will work with Luka and Fenrir, my jack and ace. I’m told you make a rather formidable ace yourself.” Masa nodded his agreement to the team, moving to join them. “Luka, first we need to prepare rations for the search parties. Fenrir, get the gear ready for them. Masa can help with either.” “I’ll cook,” the one eyed dragon stated. “Roger that,” came Luka’s response. “On it,” Fenrir’s.

“Oh...I was told to give you this..” Ray lifted your hand, placing a small kiss in it. This kiss was different than previous kisses, for this one’s wrapping was brown with lighter tan stripes. A caramel Hershey’s kiss. You glanced up confused and all Ray said was, “I don’t know. I was just told to give it to you. I’m sure you’ll find out why later.”

Parties split, each moving to their respective headquarters, leaving you to follow the black army somewhat helplessly. You moved from the garden to a place called Central Quarter and from there to the Black Army Bridge.

You, however, didn't get to cross it. An arm shot out, your mouth covered as you were dragged away. In an alley, figures in white examined you. They seemed to be confirming something before a flash of light found you in a new place.

“I did warn ya nah t' let me catch ye, once, seamstress.” Your eyes widened as you met Motonari’s.

“How did you even get here?” You had a million questions but you had to keep calm, buy time, the others would find you, right? In that time, you needed to get Motonari to spill all you could get from him. “Doors don't jus' open one sided, seamstress,” Motonari said, “When th' scallywag wit' th' thin cutlass sliced th' world, I jus' stepped into his side o' it.”

You pressed more, trying to ask where you were, who the people in robes were, but Motonari was done with talking. He held up a bag that you recognized.

“Wha' th' heck are these? th' metal be lame 'n doesn't make decent bullets, but th' brown stuff underneath be too soft fer anythin'.”

“They’re...kisses…” you said, weakly, realizing what your task was going to wind up being.

He eyed the bag, questioning your sanity or education regarding displays of affection. It was a familiar conversation.

“Strange thin' t' call these. But I didn' make 'em so I don't much care. Take 'em.”

You shook your head, realizing what you had to do. “You can’t just thrust them at someone. There’s an order to things.” You removed the caramel kiss from your kimono, holding it out to him. “It’s diff’rent.” He took the sweet and you leaned, kissing his jaw. Motonari’s entire body went stiff at the touch, the man turning into an almost human statue. Moving back you held out your hand. “Now you can give me one kiss. That’s it.”

Motonari eyed you in shock. He silently took a kiss from the bag, flicking it at you. You caught it, almost fumbling trying to hold onto it. You closed your eyes, waiting for the kiss but none came.

Opening your eyes, you found him smirking at you. “Didn' realize ye were that way fer me..” He took the bag, placing the whole thing in your hands. Your hands holding the bag, he took the opportunity to seize your face in his own. “Now, where's me kisses?” His mouth pressed against yours, his tongue already invading. It was passionate, him breaking on occasion to nip and lick, before pressing his lips to yours again. You moaned at the attention before he finally parted.

“Was that a bag's worth o' kisses?” You stared at Motonari, nodding in response.

The tower rumbled, panicked voiced filling the areas around you. Motonari took your hand, both of you leaving as the world seemed to stretch and strain against some chaotic movement. You traveled to the garden, through the tear and back into the woods that Motonari had once occupied. You panted, catching your breath, and glanced back to the pirate, only for him to cover your eyes.

“Don't stare at me anymore wit' those eyes. They look too deep. I don't like that. Go galleon. Ye're nah far from th' Oda.” You stumbled home, finding everyone had made it safe. The rips in the world had been repaired, everyone back where they belonged. You, though, found yourself staring again at the forest where a pirate seemed a little honest to you.

“Huh...bag’s worth, indeed, Motonari.”

What happened to the tower? Dunno You wrote it? Look, shoehorning...shoehorning They ok? Probably Didn’t you promise us Jonah About that... You’re not giving us much. Look here- -flings Edgar at you and flees- At least this is the last time...

#Ikemen Sengoku #Ikesen #crack #Ikemenfics #Motonari Mori #Crossover

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elfautumn · 3 years

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Teen Wolf is unbelievably unrealistic which is maddening because its a show about WEREWOLVES

I’ve watched up to season 3 episode 6 of teen wolf, not necessarily expecting it to be amazing because yanno, 2000s tv wasn’t generally amazing, but oh my god it’s worse than I thought it would be

The only real qualm I have with the first season is just that it’s weirdly sexual. Like all the time. The title cards are literally what are supposed to be sophomores in high school shirtless, which doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from that, it’s a teen drama werewolf show, and teen dramas involving supernatural beings aren’t really the best in cinema. I will say throughout the whole first season the only person I ever really cared about was Stiles, probably because I have a soft spot for “left behind sidekick friend,” but also because he’s genuinely funny sometimes. Jackson was a close second only because I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s bi, and also jerks are fun characters. All in all super weird but what drama isn’t.

Season 2 is where I lose my mind just a little bit. There were some fun plotlines, and the teasing of Lydia possibly being the Kanima was actually off-putting, because I was really set on it being her. It is weird how everyone interacts in this season given that they’re still, oh I don’t know, SOPHOMORES IN HIGH SCHOOL WHO SHOULD NOT BE HAVING THIS MUCH SEX. I mean seriously, it’s like this show was made for 20 year olds who’ve never seen a tv in their life. They’re like “Oh yeah they’re in high school haha the good ole days” and simultaneously “Look at these literal children having sex isn’t that so fun.” It made me very uncomfortable. My likeable characters increased by 1 because I also have a soft spot for trauma boys, and Isaac just gets it piled on. Regardless, this is not the season I have the main issue with.

And now we get to where I currently am, and the reason I even made this, because I’M SORRY, AN ALPHA PACK????? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??? They made these arbitrary rules about werewolf packs, showed off the abilities of the levels, showed the transfer of power, and then had the auDACITY to end season 2 with the words “An Alpha pack.” *insert the extreme mental break I had over hearing those two stupid, stupid words together*. I feel like how Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off probably felt before going into Ferris’ house, because I can’t deal with this crap. Not only did the show runners decide an alpha pack, which given the previous descriptions of packs from the resident expert Derek Hale shouldn’t even exist, was a good idea, they spat in my face with the words Demon Wolf. I’ve never felt more insulted in my life. The delivery wasn’t even clever, it was an old guy yelling “I AM THE DEMON WOOOOLF” I N T O T H E S K Y. Another thing about the alpha pack that bugs me is that weird twin dynamic they have where they both turn into one big werewolf, which I guess is creative, but also objectively bad and weird, although I’ll give them props for making one of them gay so Danny can have a love interest, which even supernatural couldn’t do until the last season.

Above all, the biggest, definitely not most important, but most mind-rotting thing watched in season 3, was this exchange:

Lydia is admiring all the freshmen or “fresh men” as she says it. Allison points out that they are “fresh boys” and are age 14. Lydia dismisses this saying some are more mature than others. Allison points out that they can be single and take the time to focus on themselves. Lydia says she doesn’t want a boyfriend she wants a distraction.

Let me remind you that the main cast are juniors in high school at this point in the show, and if you still see nothing incredibly weird about this exchange, let me also remind you that those “fresh men” are coming from middle school. They were just in 8th grade, and Lydia, who is at least 16 or 17 at this point, thinks they are worthy of a distraction. I’m not sure about anyone else, but when I was junior, you couldn’t PAY me to admire, nonetheless date a freshman. This entire exchange is the exact reason why I really can’t stand this show most of the time. It expects you to put aside all belief that this isn’t a normal high school, while also throwing weird perverted shit into their dialogue. And these are only the major things I remember.

Anyways, I might keep doing this, I might not, but I do know it’ll be a cold day in hell when I attempt to keep watching Teen Wolf. Sorry Stiles and Isaac, but I need to maintain my sanity.

#teen wolf #critique #rant

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ice-cream-nekogirl · 4 years

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Amy Martinez (Character Sheet TV Tropes Style) U-Y

Uncanny Valley Girl: Has the appearance of a conventionally cute and upbeat school girl... who’s killed at least fifteen people to date, knows how to manipulate people and can display a callous, cheerfully psychotic side whenever she’s crossed.

Undying Loyalty: To her Coven, as they took her in after her parent’s death when Hero Society felt unable to and despite the atrocities and horrors she’s witnessed she’s fiercely protective and devoted to her coven and even sets out back to Japan to connect both the world of Witches and Heroes together so her kind wouldn’t be ostracized or demonized anymore.

Unstoppable Rage: After the culture festival, she goes into one of these and beats her teachers and Midoriya when they attempt to stop her. She’s only stopped when Midoriya starts crying and when Shinsou gives her a sad look and gently talks her down, followed by Cordelia.

Used To Be a Sweet Kid: Amy’s certainly still capable of being sweet, but she used to be a relatively stable, genuinely happy child who had yet to do anything horrible. In fact, the worst thing she did as a child was steal a bouncehouse so that way Shinsou could have one for his birthday party. In modern times, while she’s gradually improved and her sanity has strengthened, she’s still a troublemaker who performs much more lethal pranks and still participates in murder.

Violently Protective Girlfriend: She knows that Bakugo can take care of himself, but doesn’t stand for Madison taunting him, and beats the HELL out of two other witches who attack and threaten him.

Amy: Get the fuck away from my Katsuki you bitches!

Vitriolic Best Buds: With Midoriya and Iida mostly. She and Midoriya’s relationship was strained for a time during their first year in UA but slowly started to patch up over the course and while Amy still likes to tease Midoriya, he holds no ill will towards her and they have managed to rebuild their friendship and Amy still adores him despite everything.

She and Iida bicker nearly every single day and Amy pranks him constantly and gives him a hard time every chance she gets, but Iida still cares about Amy and looks after her, and Amy secretly appreciates him, respects him and cares about him enough to adhere to him at times.

Weak But Skilled: Amy’s an EXTREMELY gifted witch and knows how to use her powers and spells very well, but isn’t the most physically powerful girl nor is she as skilled in combat as others are.

We Want Our Jerk Back: Inverted, Amy’s always been something of a jerk but was still a cheerful, supportive and comical friend to her class, but when she leaves the class notes that it didn’t feel right without her and missed her immature sense of humor.

Also shown in the Internship arc where Amy does briefly return to intern with Endeavor along with Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki, only she’s apathetic, bored and downright emotionless and the three boys each make at least one attempt to see if a glimpse of her old self is still in there. With Bakugo outright demanding her to crack a smile or at least laugh or giggle as she always used to in the time he’s known her.

Weight Woe: Despite what she preaches about body positivity, Amy is actually very self-conscious about her weight which is why she wears considerably more conservative and modest clothing compared to her other female friends. Doesn’t help that she gains weight easily and can even fall into a depression when it becomes very apparent.

What The Hell Hero?: Midoriya gives her one of these when she acts callously after she and Bakugo are rescued and later during the Culture Festival where Amy refuses to partake in their class dance out of spite towards him. Amy later starts to give herself these when she realizes that she’s gone too far, particularly in having the intent of seriously harming Midoriya during a fight she wins.

Why Did It Have To Be Snakes?: Amy doesn’t have much phobias, but she IS afraid of seagulls for some reason, calling them the ‘devil’. She’s also terrified of cockroaches, centipedes and holes.

Wicked Witch: She at times acts like this, mostly just to troll her friends and scare them even though she DOES have some of the habits such as the evil cackle, penchant cats and wearing black and even lives in a mansion just outside the city.

Wife Basher-Basher: Amy doesn’t hesitate to threaten to personally murder and torture Endeavor if he ever raises a hand to Todoroki, his mother or any of his children again.

Wild Card: Amy’s on neither the heroes side or the villains side, but she IS on her coven’s side which means she does as she pleases, shows no obligation to UA or Hero Society and is there primarily for Shinsou’s sake and for the sake of battling other people to show off her powers. This becomes subverted when she develops strong friendships with her classmates, falls in love with Bakugo and makes friends with her classmates, especially Ashlen.

Witch Hunt: Was the victim of one even in Japan as witch hunters broke into her house, destroyed her home, killed her dog, burnt her mother to the stake and lynched her father. She was nearly burnt to the stake herself only for the Pro-Heroes to save her, but because they weren’t willing to care for her with the risk of other witch hunters infiltrating their society as well, Amy was forced to move to America with other witches, but the hunt didn’t stop there as her godmother’s husband was a witch hunter who nearly killed her and her other sisters until they were all killed by the Axemen. Amy states that witch hunters still exist and while the war may never end, that she and her sisters fight back more.

Woman In Black: Just like her sisters, Amy loves to wear black and adorns an all-black Hero Costume.

Woman Scorned: After Amy confesses that she’s in love with Midoriya, he doesn’t think she’s being serious and instead scolds her for her lack of cooperation in the Culture Festival and overall fluctuating attitude. Which leads to a big argument but when he calls her selfish and cruel, Amy completely loses it and challenges him to a fight out of nowhere, in which she lashes out her anger at him by beating him and spewing her now negative feelings towards him as she wins the fight. She gets over this thank goodness but it’s still something she’s not proud of.

Whenever Bakugo breaks up with her, she’s aggressive and cold to him and on worse days she’ll attack him with her telekinesis.

Women Are Wiser: Generally averted as Amy’s actually the least mature girl in Class A, but can display common sense when it’s needed.

Woobie, Destroyer Of Worlds: Amy might be a crazy, spiteful and wicked girl, but was forced to abandoned her best and only friend, including said best friend’s family who loved her like a daughter, and she felt rejected by her own society when they gave her away to strangers, didn’t even bother to check on her even though these strangers ended up indirectly exposing her to even more horrors that further traumatized her the point where she suffered nightmares, bullying from eve other witches and has contemplated suicide.

Would Hurt a Child: Implied but never shown. Amy notes that with children having superpowers now, that there’s not many lines to cross since their powers can be used to fight back and has no qualms roughing up younger kids should they piss her off.

Inverted also, Amy has no problems killing adults, nor did she have any issue in beating the shit out of her own teacher.

But also Averted. Despite Amy claiming that she will hit a child should they piss her off, she’s never actually done it. In fact, even when she disliked Eri, she did absolutely nothing to (physically) harm the girl because she said she’s “not a monster” and couldn’t do anything like that to her.

However, she DOES hit a younger witch of 10 when she kicks her in the groin and Amy pays back the favor by punching her in the stomach.

Yandere: She beats the tar out of Midoriya when he accidentally spurns her feelings for him, attacks Uraraka via telekinesis in a fit of jealousy, treats Eri coldly out of jealousy due to Aizawa offering her care and also beats the tar out of him too for not stepping in to take care of her when she lost her family.

In a moment much more Played For Laughs, she threatens and shouts at Bakugo for dumping her for the first time and says that she’ll murder him in his sleep before he thinks he can get away with it. However, Amy DOES relapse into insanity when she thinks that Bakugo doesn’t love her.

Yaoi Fangirl: It’s much less to do with the fetish and more to do with Amy being extremely passionate about gay rights as she squeals whenever she sees a healthy gay couple between two men and was more than happy to help John Henry Moore into getting out there to start dating men again.

Then there’s the fact that she’s written erotic fanfiction about her own friends (much like Tina Belcher) and reveals that she ships Bakugo and Todoroki, Bakugo and Kirishima, Kaminari and Bakugo, Kaminari and Sero, Tokoyami and Shouji, Tokoyami and Kouda, Shinsou and Tokoyami, Midoriya and Kirishima and Shinsou and Monoma and even Shinsou and Kaminari.

You Are Better Than You Think You Are: To her shame, Amy tends to be uplifted when people reassure her, especially from Shinsou, Ashlen and Cordelia. Shinsou often reassures her whenever she thinks she doesn’t belong in Hero Society, and Cordelia gladly tells her that despite what her society did to her, that the coven wouldn’t be complete without her and her sensitive heart. And then Ashlen comes into the picture and appears to love her for all her flaws, as she embraces her imperfections and tells her that she wouldn’t be her best friend if she weren’t the way she is.

You Can’t Go Home Again: After her parents are killed by witch hunters who infiltrated Japan the pro-heroes were unwilling and unable to watch over and care the young witch, which urges Aizawa to call the coven from New Orleans. And when Cordelia, Fiona and Myrtle arrive to retrieve her and take her to Robichaux Academy, a safe haven in New Orleans, America for young witches such as herself to be her new home. However, they also tell her that she won’t be able to return to her former life in Japan and can’t stay in any contact with Shinsou and his family for not just Amy’s protection but for Shinsou’s protection as well. Thankfully she IS able to return to Japan, but only as she got older and witches being outed to the world which encouraged Hero Society to be more accepting of witches.

You Got Spunk: She goes with Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki during the Winter internship with Endeavor and because Amy has no filter with the pro-hero, openly disrespects him to the point of threatening him, he is partially amused but impressed by how ballsy she is.

Endeavor: This brat has hellfire in her...

You Never Did That For Me: The minute Amy finds out about Eri’s existence, she’s initially sympathetic... until she hears that the pro-heroes are going to take care of her and that UA is going to adopt her and place her into a more caring environment with responsible adults and older kids who look after her. As it all sinks in, Amy realizes and calls them out for taking in a girl with unstable powers, but didn’t do the same thing for her at all even though she was also a girl with unstable powers, and that instead they gave her away to strangers who did a less than stellar job and her ‘guardians’ exposed her to even more trauma. This is what triggers her into attacking and injuring Midoriya and Aizawa, and then leaving UA for 2 whole months out of anger and hurt.

You Wouldn’t Like Me When I’m Angry: No... you really wouldn’t. Amy even says this word for word at times, or just outright warning others to ‘get the fuck out’ or else she’ll ‘get angry’ and she normally lives up to her warnings as when truly angry, Amy’s powers cause things around her to break and the building to tremble if she’s really pissed off.

Yuri Fangirl: Much like it’s stated above, Amy also grows very excited and happy when she sees a healthy lesbian couple and also likes to pair her friend Mallory with Coco due to their strong friendship. Amy also adores the Steven Universe cartoon because of the prevalent lesbian relationships in it, and was disappointed when she found out Yuri! On Ice didn’t have actual yuri.

#amy martinez #tv tropes #american horror story #american horror story coven #ahs coven #bnha #mha #bnha oc #mha oc #boku no hero academia oc #my hero academia oc #ahs crossover #mha crossover #original character

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superqueerwritingfangirl-blog · 7 years

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Loving Strangers

Fandom: Avengers

Character Ship: Wanda Maximof x Reader

Word Count: 894

Request: “I'd like to request a Wanda x reader one? Wanda gets away from the compound for a while and goes to a little diner. Out of curiosity she randomly reads minds of the other patrons. She stops at a group of guys who have been watching the reader and she's horrified at their plans so she goes to sit with her. The reader recognizes her and trusts her when Wanda tells her to go with her. They go back to readers apartment and end up talking all night and asking each other out.” From @purplekitten30

Warnings: Creepy dudes being creepy, gayness - don’t like it don’t read it.

Author’s note: I changed the ending a bit but not too much. Hope you like it! This is my first request!!

You groaned, plopping yourself into an empty booth. A waitress nodded at you - signaling that she’d be with you in a moment, so you smiled back. As you settled into the cushion you shut off your phone, the busy work day following you to the after hours. Your new job was definitely testing your sanity; a week in and you were already losing it.

As the waitress asked you for your order the door to the diner opened, silently. In strolled a face you recognized but could not place: long, beautiful, brown hair falling around light blue eyes. A scarlet, leather jacket covered her shoulders, layered over a long black top and simple pair of black leggings. She brought in a soft and gentle presence and when your eyes connected, for just a split second, she smiled and electricity surged through your body.

Just as she turned, seemingly to sit next to you, a group of men pushed their way into your booth. You did not know where they came from, nor who they were. They reeked of alcohol and as they eyed you up you felt completely..icky. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” One of the three douchebags asked.

In reply, you gave a fake name, that to this day you can’t remember. “How about we pay for this meal and in return you come back to our place, what do ya say?” As the main douche gave his proposition, co-douche, the one that sat next to you, placed his hand way too high on your leg.

“I’m ga-good.” You said, willing yourself to not say ‘I’m gay’, in case these douches happened to be homophobic douches.

“That’s cute,” He said, gripping your wrist tightly before you could pull away, “you can keep up that bitchy feminist act, but I wasn’t really asking. I’m going to pay for this meal and then you’re going to come back with us to our apartment. Now, let’s g-”

“Sissy,” the beautiful girl from before said, stepping up to your, now crowded, booth, “Daddy got a cab for us, it’s waiting outside.” You knew her voice from TV, the Scarlet Witch. All at once the guy’s looked out the window, seeing a cab waiting and the man blocking you from escaping stood, reluctantly and let you pass by.

“Thanks for the meal, boys.” You said, leaving the dinner and scooting into the awaiting cab.

“Where to?” The cabby asked.

You gave your address then turned your attention to your passenger. “Thank you.”

“I could hear what they wanted to do to you and how afraid you were.” She stated simply, her eyes glued to yours.

“You’re the Scarlet Witch?”

“I prefer Wanda.” She said lightheartedly.

“Wanda,” you repeated, “I like it.”

“What is your name?” She quizzed, eyes still not leaving yours, her hand finding your cheek.

“(Y/N).” You confirmed.

“Fitting,” Wanda stated. “Just as beautiful as you.”

You sat in a comfortable silence, leaning your head on her shoulder as you approached your apartment. As the cabby pulled up to the familiar building, Wanda handed him multiple bills without truly counting them and followed you to your door.

The two of you stood awkwardly at your door for a moment before Wanda spoke up. “May I kiss you goodnight?” You nodded in reply and allowed her lips to drift over yours.

As the two of you connected, the electricity from earlier was back and you washed in the beautiful cliche. The kiss was soft and sweet, not lasting anywhere near as long as you wished. As she pulled away you spoke without thought, “It’s getting late and the cab just left; would you like to spend the night? Then call another cab in the morning?”

With that she grabbed your hand, nodding, and you lead her to your bedroom. You tossed her a spare pair of your pajamas as you slipped into your own. You forced yourself not to look at her and she could sense your nerves. Again she grabbed your hand, but this time she did the leading.

Wanda leads you to your own bed, getting you comfortable under the covers before she did the same. “We don’t have to do anything.” She said, sincerely. “We'll stay like this, close but not touching, while you relax.” You lied on your side, facing the middle of your bed and she lay down next to you. She was just inches away, facing you.

“Do you have to be somewhere?”

“Not yet,” Wanda confessed.

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” You said, suddenly very tired.

“Shh,” she said, running her hands through your hair, touching nothing else on your body, “It's better if you're asleep. That way we don't have to say goodbye.” Closing your eyes, you nodded in agreement. “I’ll say a few words: this will not be the last time you see me. It’ll just be a while. I promise.”

You felt her lips press against your forehead and as you slipped into a peaceful sleep you felt her slip away, but you weren’t sad. You let yourself dream of her as you thought of the next time you’ll meet, how you won’t let her leave without touching.

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader #avengers x reader #fanfic #avengers

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markgetsetgo · 7 years

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The Only Exception

Author: ohhhkenneth

Pairing: Markson (GOT7)

Category: Romance

Length: 20 Chapters

Rated: M for smut, cursing

Summary: Jackson is no stranger to one night stands or hookups. When the sun sets he comes alive; losing himself in the city lights, finding his way into the beds of guys whose names he didn't even bother to get. Relationships are off the table - he's more interested in the pursuit of unending happiness. Cars, clothes, money, sex. Life is easy for a twenty-something gay man in New York, especially when they're as hot as Jackson. What the boy wants, he gets. That is until his favorite coffee shop barista, Neil, is fired. Jackson is thrown for a curve ball when the coffee shop hires Mark Tuan as a replacement for Neil. Mark is a pale and beautiful young man who seems to have everything that Jackson wants, except one thing: he doesn't want Jackson.

Chapter 1

I have to be perfectly honest, I wasn't expecting to have as many potential suitors as I ended up having when I went out to the club on Saturday. I mean, being a young, wealthy, and good looking man - if I do say so myself - works wonders when you live in a large metropolis like New York. Over the year or so that I've been frequenting the bars my "little black book," if you will, has become filled with a dozen or so names of gorgeous and well endowed men that would drop anything if I called them, whether it was 4AM or 4PM, needing a hit. Typically I liked to find myself wrapped up in the sheets with another new body a few times a week. It was almost like a game to me, who could I get next, how long would it take me, that sort of thing.

One of my favorites, if not my absolute favorite, was Joel. He was a little older being 38 and all, but he was the epitome of a great fuck. I had heard stories of the mythical "monster dick" and men whose penises were that of tales and legends, but I hadn't run into one of those prized jewels until Joel. Turns out, they do exist. Unfortunately Joel is married and has three kids, so getting out and away from the family is sometimes tricky. We meet at motels and pretty well anywhere that we can. Sometimes I let him fuck me in his car. When you're horny you become crafty - every surface becomes a perfect place for fucking.

I met Chad online, he was a veteran, back from his tour in Iraq. He and I met on Grindr one evening when I realized that I was too spent and couldn't be bother to go out into the real world to find my night's fun. We exchanged a few contrived messages, "What's up?" "What are you into?" "Where do you live?" etc. After seeing a picture of him, I had to invite him over. I normally wouldn't host, because I don't like the idea of having perfect strangers in my condo where I have artwork that costs upwards of a hundred thousand dollars, but his ass was too great, it was an ass worth breaking a couple rules for.

Chad told me, the first night we met, that he was freshly single and wasn't well versed in bed. I told him it was okay, because I could take the lead, but I was pleasantly surprised that his own self evaluation of being an amateur was completely unfounded. Chad was a maniac.

Within minutes of me opening the front door, I found myself pressed up against the wall and my pants around my ankles. Chad bent me over slightly and buried his face into my ass, eating me out aggressively for what seemed like half an hour. I guess he had been deprived of ass eating for a while, and I was glad to help him out and be his late dinner.

Chad was the one with the perfect ass - even nicer than mine - so I was surprised when he took his saliva coated finger and slipped it into my quivering hole knuckle deep. He began fucking me in my front doorway for fifteen minutes, then lifted me into the living room where he threw me down, flipped me over, and took me for the ride of my life in one of the four positions he had in store for me that night. I guess being in the military really did have its advantages. Chad was incredibly strong, and tossed me around with ease.

Finally, he finished me off by sticking his perfectly curved cock into my ass and pounded the cum out of me, making it sprout all over my chest. When he finished after me he mouthed a "thank you" and quickly did up his pants. Turns out he hadn't even taken his boots off, and with that he was out the door. I didn't mind that he trekked a little bit of mud in, I'd let him dump dirt all over my house if it meant that he would fuck me like that again. The maid would clean it anyway.

It's true that I have a wide range of men at my beck and call, some are into darker things like BDSM and role playing, some into feet and me stepping on them, still others are into romance and cuddling and "making love." I've been feeling a void inside my chest lately; something I can't quite put my finger on, that's making me anxious. For someone who can have literally anything he wants, why do I get the sense that I'm missing out on something?

***

Work is something that keeps my mind busy when I'm not cruising or searching for the next hot guy to hit me up. I go into the office almost every day. One thing about me that I take pride in is my time management and conscientiousness; I stick to my schedule and respect my own boundaries and capabilities when it comes to work. My father's business got to where it was with my help, and together we have become incredibly successful.

The only thing that makes work unattractive at times is the drudgery. It becomes incredibly slow and monotonous at times. Sometimes I find myself playing cheap games on my phone during meetings. That's why I take solace in the small things: the songs on the radio in the morning drive to work, seeing Neil each morning and getting my macchiato, the view from my office when the sun is rising. These are the things that maintain my sanity during the day.

Today was a morning just like every other. I pulled out of the car lot and headed towards Steepz, the coffee shop at the end of my street. They have a drive thru, but I insist on going in to speak with my favorite barista, the hilarious and cheerful Nathaniel.

When I step into the coffee shop, there's a small ding on the door as it closes behind me. There's a lineup of about 30 people, all tapping their feet and looking at their watches for the time. Seems there's a hold up; which is odd, considering Niel is practically a mad genius when it comes to coffee. He'd never let the line get this long.

"What's going on?" I softly ask the older woman in front of me.

"Ugh, they're taking so long. I think they're training a new staff member." she said over her shoulder to me in a very pointed tone.

I was tired too, so I understood her impatience. Coffee was like a drug, and this new staff member was the only thing between these angry addicts and the one thing they desired the most.

I waited and waited in the line, and since I'm my own boss I don't care about how late I am getting into the office, which is why I'm honestly not that upset when I finally get to the counter nearly 20 minutes later.

The morning gets even weirder as I approach the counter and see that Niel is not working today. Surely he'd be the one training this newbie - he's the best there is. Instead, there's a shy and timid girl showing an even shyer and timid boy his way around the register. His face is down and his visor is hiding his face as he presses and prods at the till's buttons, nodding sternly to himself as the girl explains things to him.

When he lifts his head and greets me, I nearly lose my train of thought.

"Hi, what would you like this morning?" the boy asks me in a gentle and warm tone.

It takes everything in me not to reply with "You. Right now. In front of everyone here."

I look down at the boy's name tag. Mark.

If I wasn't the most logical and rational thinker that I know, I would've believed anyone when they told me that Mark was an angel sent from the heavens to deliver coffee to me in that very moment. His hair was fluffy, a warm and deep golden color, falling neatly over his forehead.

His eyes were two perfect slits of black that looked like they held the entire universe in them, and when he looked at me with a questioning gaze, I felt as though he had just looked right into my soul.

"Sir?" he asked. A single word that shattered me inside, arousing me beyond all control. It sounded so innocent, yet charming at the same time. What I wouldn't give to have him under me, begging me to enter him, whispering that same word to me in that same voice.

"I'll have a venti, skinny, caramel macchiato. Sorry." I finally answered when I had regained composure.

Mark nodded and turned his attention to the machine. His eyes went from innocent and loving to determined and focused as he worked away on the register.

"That'll be... $3.49 please." he said, looking back at me. I flashed him my gold American Express card, "Oh, credit. Okay, please insert when you're ready."

Insert when I'm ready? God, this boy. I thought.

"So, you're new. How are you liking it so far?" I said, punching my pin into the pad.

"It's really fun. I've made a lot of mistakes so far, but I'm excited to keep learning." Mark replied, beaming with light.

"Ah, customers can be a bit unruly. Don't worry about it, I'm sure they'll warm up to you in no time. You have a very very inviting presence about you." I told him, wanting him to understand that I thought he was doing a great job.

"Thanks." he pursed his lips back and blushed.

"Here, this is for you, keep your spirits high. I'm sure it's the first of many tips you'll get." I handed him a fifty dollar bill and winked, heading off to the side to wait for my drink.

As I walked away I caught Mark's reaction to the tip. He was stunned, he picked the money up and quickly pocketed it, then shouted a thank you to me to which I nodded back at.

I spent the next few minutes examining the new barista further as I waited for my drink. Mark looked to be about my age, although his gentle and loving demeanor made him appear a lot younger. He was fresh faced, with perfect soft skin and a winning smile that just begs to be returned. Though his eyes were determined and wise, they were juxtaposed on his face by his cute and boyish features. He was truly a sight for sore eyes. Maybe Neil being gone wasn't all that bad, after all.

#got7 #got7 fanfic #fanfiction #gay fanfic #jackson wang #mark tuan #markson #markson fic #index: the only exception #ohhhkenneth

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kittenwritesstuff · 7 years

Text

P.S. I love you - part II

Summary: When your husband, Tony, dies, you are convinced that your life ended along with his. On the day of your 30th birthday you receive a surprise from Tony and with every letter from him, you start to learn how to live on your own - based on a plot of ‘P.S. I love you’ for @hunters-from-stark-tower‘s 3K Celebration Movie AU Challenge. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (eventually), Tony Stark x reader (in flashbacks) Warnings: mention of alcohol, vomiting (??) Words: 2.570 A/N: The song’s title is “The Man That Got Away”, performed by Judy Garland. The movie is titled “A Star Is Born”.

Part I

Three weeks later

Your apartment is a mess and you are very well aware of that. There are no clean dishes, no clean cups, mostly because you still catch yourself making two coffees in the morning.

Kitchen table is occupied by empty pizza boxes. Sofa is littered with chips, and you might or might not spilt a tea on it.

Your wardrobe is left with open door but you barely dress in your clothes. Duh, you hardly go out, preferring to walk out only when you run out of food. And when you’re at home, alone, you wear Tony’s clothes. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind.

More than once you spoke out loud, forgetting that your husband is no longer there to turn off the light or. One evening when you couldn’t sleep, you could swear you saw Tony sitting at the sofa with his guitar, playing the song you always liked. You feel asleep there, his smell still lingering everywhere in the apartment.

Your phone beeps again but you don’t give a damn. You don’t even know when you left it in the first place. Throughout past weeks your mom, Peggy, Natasha and Wanda have been calling like crazy. They left you a shitload of voice messages but you never listened to them. you know what they’d say. “Please, call me,” Nat would say in demanding voice. “I’m worried, honey”, Peggy would plead and your heart would break. “Give me a call, sis,” Wanda would say, seemingly cheerfully but you’d know she’s been dying to hear from you. And your mom, she would ask if you are, if you showered and all that and you would have to lie and tell that you’re okay.

Truth is – you’re not okay. And you’re not convinced you will ever be. Tony was the love of your life, the man you dreamt of, your knight in shining armor and now he was gone. Gone forever. How unfair it was!

You wipe your face with a tissue and turn the volume up. You’re watching a movie, one of your favorites. You’re hoping it will help you take your thoughts off of losing Tony but the fact that the urn is placed in front of the TV and you’re lying in your bed, having it almost directly before your eyes isn’t helping.

Sighing, you turn the volume up again, waiting for a song to start. You stand from the bed, using the remote as a microphone and when the heroine begins to sing, you readily jump in.

“…And all because of the man that got away.

No more his eager call,

You make your way from the bedroom, swaying your hips lightly and outstretching your arm to emphasize the lyric.

The writing's on the wall,

The dreams you dreamed have all

Gone astray.

Turning around, you enter the living room, the remote close to your lips, your voice getting higher and higher. You know you can’t sing – Tony said it more than once that you never hit the right tone, but who will stop you now?

The man that won you

Has gone off and undone you.

That great beginning

Has seen the final inning...”

You don’t hear when the door is open and your mom, sister and friends come in. Only your mother’s exasperated “Good Lord!” snaps you out of your haze. You shift your gaze to the door, immediately feeling ashamed, not by your performance but by the state of your flat and the outfit you picked for today – Tony’s white shirt and boxers on suspenders.

“Happy 30th birthday, darling!” Wanda exclaims, jumping a little and only now you notice balloons and banners.

Steve is decent enough to lower his gaze on the floor.

“We tried to call first,” Nat stars with an unsure expression, holding the banner down.

“Are you drunk?” Peggy asks and you quickly deny.

“Do you wanna be?” chimes in Wanda, but your mother shushes her.

“Y/N, what happened to your hair?” she asks and you grimace, running a hand trough a mess on your head.

“Have you been showering?” she questions further and Steve sniffs, disgust appearing on his face.

“What’s that smell?”

“It’s me! Okay? I stink and I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep and I’ve been eating garbage and don’t call me out on that!”

“Y/N,” Peggy takes few steps towards you with a gentle expression, “please, don’t act like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, almost too harsh, but she takes no offence.

“Like you’re the only widow in the City. Go and take a shower. I’ll do your hair and make-up. Wear something nice and celebrate with us, alright?”

You stare at her, her pleading and empathetic eyes and finally you nod, turning around and heading to your bathroom.

“Okay, troops, split up. We gotta clean it before she can protest,” you hear your mother and a collective confirmation from the others and with a heavy sight, you take off Tony’s clothes and start the shower, wincing when warm water hits your skin.

An hour later you are all clean, your hair is done nicely as well as your make-up. Peggy did a wonderful job – she even painted your nails. You asked her about the job since the two of you work together and, luckily, there’s no rush.

“They’re all very understanding, dear, but sooner or later, you’ll have to come back. And I’m sorry to say that but it all has to stop at some point. Don’t shut yourself from us,” she said softly and you offered her a smile, not knowing what to tell her. You were grateful that they came by but, to be honest, you didn’t feel like partying. It just didn’t seem right when Tony was… not around.

Then, when you shared your well-thought plans of never leaving your apartment ever again and spending the rest of your life lying on your sofa in your wedding dress – ‘which you never had’, Pegs reminded – Wanda rushed in and told you that there was a delivery for you.

“I didn’t order anything,” you explain when you look at the big pink box that sits on a kitchen table. You take a seat on the sofa, next to Nat, your eyes turning to Steve as he leans in to open the mysterious package.

Happy Birthday my love, it’s written with a blue cream, your Tony.

“What is this? Steve, was that you? You did this?” you question, the poor man as surprised as you, even if not more.

“No, Y/N, I swear to God it’s not me,” he denies but you frown, looking sternly at him.

“It’s not funny, so you better tell me. You arranged it?”

Steve shakes his head, gazing at his wife for support. Peggy squeezes your shoulder to get your attention and when you glance at her, she shakes his head lightly.

“Wait a minute,” Steve says and you all turn your heads to look at him curiously. On the inside of the lid there’s a Dictaphone typed to it. Steve cautiously rips it off and hands it to you.

Play me!, it says and you undo the ribbon and press play.

A slow music starts to play before you hear a familiar voice, one you would recognize everywhere.

“Hey, baby, surprise! I know it seems rather creepy but I hate the idea that I’m not gonna be there for your 30th birthday and you freak out over it. Well, it kinda kills me not to be there. Ha-ha, funny, innit?

“No, it’s not,” you mutter, placing the device on the table.

“Okay, it’s not,” Tony’s voice agrees and you involuntarily smile, “But, baby, you’re going to be so impressed right now. I have a plan, can you believe it? I’ve written you letters and they will come to you in all sorts of ways. Starting from today, cause I knew you wouldn’t step out of the apartment for a while… anyway, letter number one will arrive tomorrow. And remember, you must do what I say, okay?”

You barely nod, too mesmerized by his voice and how thoughtful this whole thing was. He came up with something for you. He was sick but still, he planned something to uplift your spirits.

“And, Y/N, don’t try to figure out how the letter are coming. It will ruin my plan but let me tell you, it’s brilliant. You’ll be so proud of me, baby! Just, go along with me on this, love. Cause the truth is, I can’t say goodbye to you yet.

So for starters, get yourself dolled up and go celebrate! You’re 30, baby, you need to get a bit crazy, take your girls and off you go! I hereby free you from celebrating with your family, especially your mom. She’s here, isn’t she?” Tony’s voice suddenly sounds a thud terrified and you can’t help but giggle at your mother’s displeased expression.

“Ohh, shit. Forgive me, please! I know she loves you, but she can be too much at times so eat a slice of this cake, put on a nice dress and get the hell out of the apartment. Nat, find a place to party!”

“On it!” Nat calls and jumps up, running to your laptop in order to search for a club or something. By now, you are grinning, holding Wanda’s hand.

“Y/N, just know that wherever I am, I’m missing you. And I love you, baby. Happy birthday,” you sigh and swallow when a lump forms in your throat, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Now, leave me with Steve, love,” the recording asks and you nod, going to your bedroom to pick a dress. You quickly find one, one of few dresses that Tony bought you and before any of you can deem the idea crazy, you, Wanda, Nat and Peggy are walking out and into a limo, driving to the club Nat found. You don’t see your mother’s worried gaze when she sees that you carry the urn with you.

Twenty minutes later you arrive at the place, which turns out to be a newly open but very popular gay club. You’re past asking about Nat’s sanity so the four of you just run with it, pretending that you’re a princess from Finland when the bodyguard refuses to let you in.

You didn’t expect to have so much fun. Even if you have ashes of your husband on your lap there are still men who wants to talk to you and comfort you. Surprisingly, they’re very supportive and when one of them opens a bottle of tequila you don’t miss a single shot.

The rest is having a great time, too. You spot your sister playing some sort of game with two young guys while Nat and Peggy are dancing in the crowd. They’re visibly happy to be given so much attention.

After couple of hours when all of you are tired of so many dudes being around, you decide to move the party to your mom’s pub where you find Steve. He greets you, evidently relieved that you’re in a good mood. He compliments the furry silly grown you have on your head and you giggle, excusing yourself and rushing to bathroom.

However, you end up in small storeroom and you lean against the shelves, filled with various alcohols, wondering how did you end in here? You hear the door being unlock and Scott comes in, unsure of how to approach.

“Sorry to interrupt, but what are you doing?” he asks, closing the door behind as he squeezes in, facing you.

“Trying to figure out why God killed my husband? Any ideas?” you mumble, the alcohol you consumed showing its effect on you.

“Well, I don’t think…” he starts and makes to exit but you grasp his arm and push him against the shelf.

“Scott?”

“Yeah.”

“If you have any idea, you have to tell me. I’m a widow and I’m distressed, as you can see.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty clear. How much did you drink?”

“Lost count after tenth shot.”

“Wow, impressive. Anyway, about why your husband died… maybe you’re being punished for something?”

“Like what?”

“Don’t know, being too happy? Too beautiful?”

“Naah, not me. I was never too happy, I was just happy enough, you know? And I’m not too beautiful.”

“Well, I think you’re hot!” Scoot declares and you raised your brows, shocked by his sudden statement.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I have a syndrome. I say stuff without thinking first. I don’t really pick up on social cues.”

“You mean you’re rude?”

“Yeah, but now I can take medications for it, so there’s that!” he grins and you chuckle.

“They have pills for rudeness?”

“I know, right?” he joins you with his own cackle before he becomes serious again.

“Hey, maybe it’s some sort of Irish curse? You’re Irish, right?”

“Well, Tony and I loved the Yankees which pretty much is against the religion…” you muse and Scott nods, his expression thoughtful.

“It can be that, I guess, that explains a lot. I love the Yankees, too, and I lost my fiancé last year.”

“Oh, really? She died?”

“No, she left with my best friend, who’s a woman. I always had this fantasy about having two girls in bed but I wish I was there for the second time. And third,” he smiles weakly and you smirk, fighting to focus your attention on his rambling.

“She said she’d still be with me if I weren’t a man.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, but that’s not the worst. That best friend my ex-fiancé slept with is my ex-ex- fiancé and we were business partners and we started the business with my money. So, I’m now left without my money, with no partner and no girl.”

“How did you get over that?”

“I had this major hooker phase for almost a year.”

“But it didn’t help?”

“No, it helped a lot, I just ran out of money. It’s cheaper to date, actually.”

“Scott, do you think you’ll find another woman to love? You think it’s possible?” you inquire, your tipsy mind somehow able to form coherent question.

“No, I don’t think so. It seems I repel the women I want most, so I’m okay with not having anyone.”

“Oh, nooo, that’s not true…” you start but before you can add anything, your stomach turns and you lower your head next to Scott, throwing out.

“Yup,” Scott says as he moves his hands to get your hair from your face, seeing you through the moment of weakness. He’s patient with you, offering you a bottle of water and running to your mother when it seems that you’re finished.

She doesn’t say a word, quickly forming a ‘help Y/N’ squad. Steve, Peggy and Nat are asked to stay at the pub for a moment, Scott lifts you bridal-style before you can get acquainted with the floor and Wanda takes the urn. They all go up the stairs and on the first floor where your mom lives.

She always keeps one room prepared for you or Wanda to stay in and she leads Scott there. He lays you carefully on the bed, Wanda places the urn on a small nightstand next to where you sleep. They both exit while your mom takes off your shoes and tenderly strokes your cheek.

You moan and reach for her hand, already dozing off.

And she stays until she is sure that you’re sound asleep.

#stark tower's movie challenge #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tony #tony x reader #tony stark x reader #x reader #reader insert #movie!au #ps i love you #marvel #marvelfic

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nofomoartworld · 7 years

Text

Art F City: An Interview With Painter Alicia Gibson

Installation view

Alicia Gibson’s paintings are messy in the best sense of the word. Aesthetically, their sloppy paint, muddy colors and worked over surfaces look as if Gibson deposited all her thoughts on a given subject one canvas. Emotionally, they pack the same unvarnished punch. Her paintings overflow with acerbic humor, saccharine sweetness, and an aggressive punk rock ethos that’s impossible to forget.

Now, as the inaugural show at Real Estate Gallery, a new gallery in Greenpoint, started by Lisa Cooley, Jeremy Willis, and Kenan Gunduz, this work is on view.

I sat down with Gibson and discussed her involvement in the feminist girl gang “Ladies in Heels”, the necessity for faux history in her art, and why “Jeff Koons Sucks”.

Irena Jurek: Can you talk about the relationship you have to feminism in your work?

Alicia Gibson: I would like to bridge the gap between the sexes in my work and not necessarily push men away. Instead, I’d rather bring men in on the joke, and show them what women really think about and talk about. Some of the titles of my paintings include “Pull Out pull out?!!” or “I Want You Inside Me.” Humor has the power to bring people together.

I agree, people aren’t as threatened by ideas when they are communicated through humor.

Exactly, feminism to me is about unifying people of different genders and sexes.

You were also once involved in a feminist girl gang in your early twenties.

The name of the gang was “Ladies in Heels”. It was taken from the one time I tried to wear heels. When I was 21, I was at a bar and wearing these two-inch heels, which I don’t even think is that high. Anyway, I kept stumbling around in them, and I eventually got kicked out of the bar because people thought I was totally wasted. I just couldn’t walk in them. This goes back to the stereotypical male expectation of what women should wear in order to be sexy.

You also did some tagging while you were in this girl gang?

Yes, there were only three or four of us. I wrote “Diet Coke” a lot and “Jeff Koons Sucks.” We were going against the idea of art as a commodity.

There is definitely a relationship to graffiti and urban life within your work: the grittiness, the dirt, the noise, the floating trash, as well as the constant sense of movement and commotion.

I still occasionally use spray paint. There is this faux history in my work, because I can’t make twenty years of a street appear on my canvas in three weeks. It’s definitely very self-aware and self-reflexive.

Alicia Gibson

Would you say your content is usually taken from your own experiences?

My work is usually directly taken from my own life and experiences, but not always. “I Want You Inside Me,” is taken from a tag I saw on a lamppost. I like playing with double entendre or even triple entendre, where things can take on a lot of different meanings. It could be a drunk woman who really wants to get laid or a gay man who wants to have sex, or it can even be about wanting food; like wanting a hamburger inside you. You don’t have to be drunk to want to have sex, but I think the tagger was, because the tag was pretty sloppy!

There are a lot of puns in your work.

For sure. It’s includes my ruminations, and things that bounce around in my head. If I write down an idea, it feels like it loses its power or meaning to me. But I might not recommend this method for one’s sanity, even though it can be a great way to process a grave situation.

Your work has an obsessive quality that mirrors the obsessive thoughts that we often have but don’t necessarily verbalize. One painting that I kept thinking about in your show is a small text painting with the word “TACT” written urgently on it. It seems so personal, like a “note to self- be more tactful.” It also carries a sense of shame that is comical, painful, and relatable.

Definitely.

There’s a vulnerability that comes from the diaristic quality in your work. It reminds me of the confessional poets like Anne Sexton and Robert Lowell whose work was grounded in their own experiences.

Absolutely. Working in this way feels more honest, and I think that being confessional can also be scary as hell, but I think that people can relate to it more.

It’s refreshing, because people are usually more guarded.

Of course, that’s their problem. I tend to say anything and everything that’s on my mind; the good, the ugly, and the whatever. Sometimes my work makes people really uneasy.

I would imagine it’s that diaristic quality in your work that makes people uncomfortable. It makes them feel like they’re going through your underwear drawer or something!

Totally! They probably feel overexposed. I think that’s great, and when people walk away from my work, I hope that they will digest it, and gain a new perspective into their own life.

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