#danger days frank is going to kill me

[frnkiebby]

fucking— U G H~🎃

[lefttoesucker]

Sketchbook dump :3

Also know as "I have exams coming up so I don't have much time for ful drawings"

[jamminvroomvroom]

in the middle of nowhere.

ln x fem!reader

in which you get the wrong idea in the middle of nowhere, so lando finally pops the question.

hello again! two fics in three days, unhinged jas is back 🤭 right so anyways, here you go! i love this concept so much and i hope you do too, lemme know what you think!

this can absolutely count as part two to everything if you want it to!

songs to set the mood: green eyes::siena by nothing but thieves, fearless by taylor swift, white ferrari by frank ocean, to love by suki waterhouse

warnings: 18+ minors dni! smut, angst for a sec, fluff, bit of choking, reader being stupid, lando also being stupid, then being so sickeningly in love, car sex hehe

2.1k words

the proposal

lando could see it now, the picture clear in his mind. the lines of your dress, clean and white. a veil that flowed, lacy and intricate. your eyes meeting his as you ascended towards him, ready to be bound together in life and love by two silver bands.

all you had to do was say yes. all he had to do was ask.

it was simple enough, getting down on one knee, bowing down before the woman he cherished with everything he had. the planning, however, that went into asking the question was eating him alive.

lando thought that he’d nailed it, finally landing on that one big idea that you’d remember for the rest of your lives. the perfect moment where he’d pledge to be yours forever.

little did he know that while the preparation was killing him slowly, it was also killing you.

-

the car ride was quiet.

lando tried to remain neutral, hiding his nerves and excitement. today was the day, you were en route to a small vineyard in the south of france. the drive from your monaco apartment wasn’t too far, but it was long enough for the pair of you to slip into silence. lando perceived it to be comfortable, glancing at you every now and then, noticing how you were taking in the countryside.

he tried not to concern himself over the way you were fiddling with your hair, chewing at your fingernails. you didn’t seem to notice the way he was watching you, eyes flirting between where you sat and the road ahead. he was more concerned by the dark cloud gathering ahead, but found some hope in the way the sunlight broke through, casting beams of light every which way.

the road was dead, not another car for miles. lando felt like you were the only two people in the world, manoeuvring the vintage lamborghini through the winding lanes, the overhanging trees casting curious shadows. it felt like a fairytale, until, of course, it didn’t.

“do you still love me, lando?” you choked out, finally turning to look at him.

lando slammed the brakes, hard. the way they screeched in protest told him that he’d be dropping a large sum into his mechanics bank account, but he couldn’t find an ounce of care, not when the woman he adored was asking such gut wrenching questions.

“what?” lando spat, delirious with confusion. his eyes were wide, wild with fear. “i- what?” he repeated himself, heart beating dangerously fast, and not in the usual way it did when you spoke.

“you just… are you breaking up with me?” your eyes were brimming with tears, lip quivering ever so slightly, but you stayed strong.

“are you serious?” lando was bewildered. “why would you think that?” he was wracking his brain for anything he’d done wrong.

“you’ve been so distant, at first i thought- well i don’t know what i thought, i just feel like you’re slipping away from me.” you sounded like the shell of your usual self, distraught in the face of it all ending. lando was too.

“baby, i’m so sorry. you’ve got it all wrong, i promise.” lando turned in his seat towards you, quickly checking his mirror as he did, safety first. he grabbed your hands, eyes meeting yours as he tried to convey reassurance.

“why have you been like this, then? have i done something wrong?” and so the troubleshooting began.

lando clenched his teeth, wondering how on earth he could explain his way out of this one without completely letting the cat out of the bag. it seemed that while he was planning perfection, he’d been neglecting you and he felt painfully stupid.

“i can’t… well, i can’t say.” lando replied, voice laced with hesitation. you frowned at his lack of explanation, head tilted in confusion.

“you can’t say? well that’s reassuring.” you bit back sarcastically. “if you don’t want me anymore, i’d rather you just tell me now.”

lando couldn’t believe what he was hearing. three years. three years you’d been together, and he was sure he’d loved you even longer. he was shocked that you thought that low of him, that he’d treat you so poorly, stringing you along. he could admit to himself that he’d made a bit of a mess of this, but he couldn’t accept that you thought he didn’t love you.

lando lived and breathed you.

“are you serious? you think i don’t want you?” his mind was moving a million miles an hour, and it spurred him on to make his next move. “get out the car.”

lando swung his door open, bounding round the door to open your door. there was a little velvet box burning a hole in his pocket, and he could feel it getting hotter with every stride he took. you stared at him dumbfounded when he took your hand, pulling you out of the car and into the road. you glanced around nervously, making sure you weren’t about to cause a car crash, but the coast was clear.

he pulled you into his chest, holding you close, eyes fixed on yours, his own a little teary now.

“you think i don’t want you? god.” lando sighed, shaking his head. one of his hands snaked down to his pocket. “you are the only person i will ever want. i didn’t want to do this here, had a whole plan and everything, but that means nothing to me if the woman i love thinks i don’t want her.”

his little speech had knocked the air out of you, and as he sunk down onto one knee, the colours of the sun hitting him so beautifully, you realised just how wrong you had been.

“baby, from the moment i met you, i knew. i knew you were gonna be my person, i just didn’t even imagine that you’d feel the same way. these years with you have been the best fucking years of my life, and i knew from the beginning that i wanted you by my side through it all.”

he was grinning up at you, a ball of nerves and curls, a few tears falling. you were a river, weeping over him, one hand clutching over your heart, the other fallen to your side.

“maybe i got it wrong, and i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry. but i’m asking what i’ve wanted to ask for a ridiculously long time.” lando breathed. “will you marry me?”

you blinked, once, twice, choking out breaths between sobs. you dragged him up from the ground, kissing him with everything you had left. it was passionate, heavy with pent up emotion, and you never wanted to let him go. you cupped his face, keeping you together when you broke apart.

“yes, lando.” you whispered. “of course.” he slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect, effortless fit, and then you were kissing him again, as close as could be, his hands all over you.

that’s when you felt the first drops of rain, the clouds finally breaking, just as they’d been threatening to all day.

“oh, fuck.” lando muttered, ready to pull you back to the car, but you wanted this moment to last.

“it doesn’t matter.” you said, letting the droplets coat your flushed skin. lando just smiled, relief washing over him like the rain.

you were engaged. fuck the rain.

and so, there you were, getting your very own movie moment, kissing in the rain with the love of your life, your fiancé, the man you would spend the rest of your life with. the sun still broke through the clouds, bathing you in light as the rain splattered against the damp ground. the leaves of the trees seemed to glisten, water droplets casting twinkles like fairy lights all around you. somehow, after everything, it was perfect. more perfect that anything you could have asked for, and, as bittersweet as it was to admit it, better than anything lando could have planned.

you threw your head back, staring up at the sky. lando leant forward, kissing over your exposed neck, and you hummed in delight. his lips worked their way up until they were ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“i love you. i will always love you.” lando whispered, and you melted into his hands that had a firm grip on your waist.

you shared a look, every worry dissipated, and you saw your life together, right there in his eyes. a flower littered aisle, him in a sleek black suit, his eyes meeting yours from the other side of the room. and then he was kissing you again and you felt the cool, damp metal of his car against your skin. your mind was full of houses in the country, white bedsheets, children playing in a garden. dinners by a fireplace and maybe a dog. but everything you saw slipped away until the only thing that remained was lando, right here, right now.

he was all over you, wet curls trickling cold water over you, sending a shiver down your spine. you grabbed at his shoulders, pulling at his soaked shirt, the white material translucent from the weather. it clung to him deliciously as you ran your hands over the linen.

“get in the car.” he groaned, sliding the material of your skirt up your legs. you complied instantly, turning to climb into your seat, when he stopped you. “no, honey. on my lap.” he smiled mischievously as he slid into the passenger seat and you quickly followed clambering onto his lap.

lando pulled your left hand up, so that it was resting over his heart. you finally had a chance to properly take in the ring, breathtaking as it was. it was an emerald cut diamond, simple yet elegant, exactly what you’d always envisioned.

“you see that? every time you look at this ring i want you to remember that i will always be yours. okay?” his voice had dropped, making the moment you were in even more intimate.

“okay.” you whispered, and his hand trailed lower, slipping under the hem of your ridden up dress. the other went to your neck, fingers gripping softly at the base of your throat.

“you thought i didn’t want you?” his grip tightened, your eyes wide in awe, fixed on his, murky blue green waters turned dark. “silly girl.” and then his other hand found your underwear, tugging it to the side.

lando moaned when he felt how wet you were, dripping all over his fingers, nice and ready for him. he worked through your folds, applying a firm, slow pressure to your clit. your mouth hung open, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure, but the way his hand closed around your neck had you staring back at him again.

“i need you.” you whimpered, your own smaller hands gripping at his wrist, pushing him further into your delicate neck, rolling your hips against where his hand worked against your soft flesh.

“don’t doubt me anymore, do you? not when i’m the only one who can make you feel like this?” lando teased, and your stomach tightened, clamping down on the two fingers he’d slipped inside you.

“no,” you whined. “only you, lando.” and that was enough convincing for him.

he held you up, just enough to free himself from his jeans and boxers, and you gripped his shoulders, clawing at him as you sunk down on his length. the rain fell harder, condensation gathering on the windows as you ground down on him, meeting his thrusts. tears pricked your eyes; he felt so good, fit you like a missing puzzle piece, and you’d doubted him. you knew, in that moment, that you’d never do such a thing again.

moans were shared between you in unison, your foreheads pressed together as you both got closer and closer, the tight space intensifying the desperation to meet your end. his hands were firm on your hips, his body tight underneath your hands. you couldn’t keep the pace, thighs aching where you were straddling him, and he quickly took charge. your head fell to his shoulder, panting into his ear as he gave you everything, putting everything he had into the final few thrusts.

you laid against his chest in silence after, the sunset casting pinks and purples over the car. you grinned lazily, exhausted, your heart fuller than ever before.

“i’m sorry i doubted you.” you mumbled into his neck, nosing at his stubbled jaw.

“i’m sorry i made you doubt me.” he responded, stroking your hair, squeezing you tighter for a second.

“i can’t wait to marry you, lando.” you kissed his jaw, sitting up to smile at him. your hands looped around his neck, twisting his curls around your fingers.

“my wife.” lando chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “let’s get you home, hm?”

“please.” you crooned. “i’m sure you need to tell max that you finally asked me, huh?”

“you know me too well.”

-

taglist

removed tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit

[mcrslover]

MCR quotes for anyone who needs them:

"Kids would say they were going to kill themselves then they heard our music... it's our mission"

- Mikey Way.

...

"Reasons why mcr is good for you

juradsleigh:

Feeling like a rad vampire? Listen to bullets

Feeling angry? Listen to 3 cheers

Feeling sad? Listen to black parade

Feeling colourful and happy? Listen to danger days

Feeling like breaking up your band? Listen to death never stop you"

...

"This is for every kid out there... That dyed their hair a fucked up colour and can't get a job. They got a tattoo on their neck like Frank, and can't get a job. That does this because they fuckin' love this. This song is for every kid in the audience- even if you don't have fucked up hair or tattoos-every kid on stage, this song's about us, this song's about you, it's called The Kids From Yesterday."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Stop covering your children's eyes.

Everything is fucked up and pretending it's not won't make it any better. I'm tired of people praying for a change when it's up to them to get off their asses and make a change."

- Frank Iero.

...

"I spent most of my time in the back of the class, just drawing. My goal was to not get noticed in school, because spent so long not being noticed anyway or being treated as if I were invisible that I started to like it.

I've learned that it's actually not very lonely... It's like, you have less friends but the friends you have count more. I met a lot of people that weren't outsiders, or they were very popular, and they have a lot of friends but I don't know if they're the kinds of friends you would call up at 3 am to help you out or talk about being depressed."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Promise me, when MCR's gone, you'll do what it takes to survive. You're strong enough to do it without us."

- Gerard Way.

...

"All your quirks and all your problems, even your depressions, and your failures that's.. that's what makes you, you."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you or someone you know is severely depressed you need to fucking talk to someone! Your mom, someone in school, I don't give a fuck! Because suicide is fucking bullshit."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Nothing is worth hurting yourself over, nothing is worth taking your life over"

- Gerard Way.

...

"If we never play another show again, just keep yourself alive."

- Gerard Way.

...

"We're outsiders, we're the kids who didn't get dates for the prom, we're the kids who were confused, who didn't fit in with the cliques, who weren't part of the in-crowd.

Growing up can be a very frightening and confusing time, and I think people look at us and see it's okay to be different. They see that there is a way other than what they're being offered. That you can stand out, that you can be creative, that you can be yourself."

- Gerard Way.

...

"gerard-hey:

I love MCR so much it's like they have a song for every situation. Feeling sad? Listen to The Lights Behind Your Eyes. Feeling frustrated? Listen to I'm Not Okay. Feeling Energetic? Listen to Na Na Na. Feeling like you wanna kick some ass? Listen to Destroya.

Feeling rebellious? Listen to Teenagers. Feel like you wanna break up your band? Listen to Fake Your Death."

...

"The difference we want to make is, number one, to let these kids know that they're not alone, that they're actually not that messed up, and that they can do whatever they want they can express themselves in any way they want without being persecuted or called a faggot or some kind of racist thing. Really just get people to get over their stuff so they can live."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Whatever happens to you, no matter what, l'm always fucking there for you... Don't forget that. I don't give a shit if your boyfriend dumps you. If your girlfriend dumps you. If you're working a shitty job or can't get through school. If you can't get through a fucking Harry Potter book, there's nothing worth dying over. There's nothing worth taking your life over. I will always fucking be there."

- Gerard Way.

...

"If you come to an MCR show, you're probably a little fucked up, and that's okay because we're just as fucked up as you. It's us against the world. And it's great because there's thousands of us in one place."

- Gerard Way.

...

"Someone doesn't like you? Fuck it.

Having a bad day? Fuck it. Didn't get that job, or that grade, or that promotion you wanted? Fuck it. Fighting with your lover? Fuck it. Feel fat today? Fuck it. Losing control of everything and everyone? Fuck it.

What matters now won't matter soon; the truly important thing is that you are alive, and that you have the capacity to do absolutely anything with this beautiful, crazy coincidence of being on this earth. Just stick your middle fingers in the air and think, 'Damn, I have it good."

- Gerard Way.

...

"You're going to come across a lot of shitty bands, and a lot of shitty people. And if anyone of those people call your names because of what you look like, or bedause they don't accept you for who you are. I want you to look right at that mother fucker, stick up your middle finger and scream

"FUCK YOU!!"

- Gerard Way.

...

"Real revenge is making something of yourself."

- Gerard Way.

❤️🖤❤️🖤

[llokii]

I have Frank brain rot and it’s all Taylor Swifts fault:

(‼️ very brief and mild mentions of smut ‼️)

• Secretly living with Frank and being in soft domestic bliss (when he’s not out beating people up)

• Finally telling someone you’re his girl just for them to shake their head in disappointment.

• “I can’t believe you’re with someone like Frank” and “you’re too good for a criminal like him” are just a couple of the nicer things people have said about you and your love

• Staying confidently by his side despite the whispers and slander from ignorant bystanders sitting high on their barstools

• They could never understand. You can handle him. Yes, he’s dangerous. He could kill everybody in this bar if he wanted to but he wouldn’t put you in a situation like that.

• You know the power he holds and you love him for it. He’s your protector, your lover, your beautiful gorgeous man. All yours.

• The contrast between his large, calloused hands and your soft gentle ones being too much for others to comprehend

• How could you be so gentle with such a monster?

• More importantly, how could Frank Castle, The Punisher, the person who’s managed to strike fear into the souls of anyone who’s met him, become so soft for you?

• Everything about him is rough and rugged. Dirty and aggressive. And yet, there’s something about him when he’s with you. Is it a glimmer in his eyes? A shift in his tone of voice? The way he gently leads you to your seat with his hand on your lower back?

• He has a habit of calmly whispering tender secrets and the occasional snide joke about the rare passerby.

• Laughing and sharing drinks with you for hours on end. Surprising everyone around with how loose and alive he seems when he normally appears to be so emotionless and empty.

• You go home together and he gives you a look you’ve come to love. You’ll never get sick of this look. The one that means “I want you” and “you’re so gorgeous” and “I love you” and “please, please kiss me” all at once.

• When you’re alone together like this, between cotton sheets in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, he’s so beautiful and raw. So so unabashedly…. Frank.

• He is surprisingly submissive at times. Being so gentle with you and occasionally even begging “please touch me” or “oh god, please kiss me” and it’s impossible to deny these requests.

• You try not to think about how nobody approves of your love. In the end, their opinions don’t matter anyways. You know you love him and he lets you know time and time again that he loves you the same.

• But when you do think of these judgmental people, you’re often overcome with thoughts of lashing out. How dare they try to tell you who you can and can’t love?

• You would burn the whole world to the ground before giving in to their ignorance.

• You know this is the man you’ll marry some day. He’s ruined you for anybody else. There’s nobody else who could love you like he does, and there’s nobody else who could love Frank like you.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Please please please smut 1 and 12 with Frank Castle!

Mission Accomplished

--genre: fluff & SMUT.

--pairing: frank castle x f!reader

--word count: 2.7k

--warnings: kissing, mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, oral (f receiving), PinV, unprotected sex (NOO), creampie, so much sexual tension, fluff, friends to lovers, semi-public sex.

thank you for the request! enjoy<3

--gif credits: @bernthalized

You’ve been known to draw people in. Whether that be because of your personality, or something magical about you, people were always attracted to you, both romantically and platonically. 

Frank was hard to crack, but still, he quickly became someone you considered to be one of your close friends. You’ve seen him an inch away from death’s grasp, and even with his consistent rejections of help, he finally let you in. You became someone he could rely on, often with his injuries. 

At first, there was little to no talking while you patched him up. The occasional grunts and groans came from him while you asked him if he wanted water every so often. As the late nights continued, Frank began to talk. Sure, one-word responses weren’t much, but it was something. And as much as Frank wanted to deny it, he quickly realized why people were drawn to you. 

Your friendship remained very exclusive for a while, only seeing each other when Frank was injured or for emergencies, but that became hard when you started to see him in a different light. For as long as you wanted to keep it buried, your feelings for Frank grew with each time you saw him. You had to push your feelings aside, for him. 

***

The exhaustion of the day was evident, it was written all over your face. Locking the door behind you, you immediately kick off your shoes, set your things down on the counter, and sink into the couch; not bothering to turn on the lights. Maybe if you weren’t so tired you were able to notice Frank’s presence behind you, “Hey.”

Your once lounged state was now replaced by an alert one, sitting up straight you whipped your head around to find Frank standing behind the couch, looking directly at you. Walking towards the light switches, you catch your breath before speaking, “I know you’re not a big fan of your phone, but Jesus Christ Frank. Could you not just lurk in the shadows next time you decide to surprise me?” 

With the light on you scan over his broad frame, scanning for any injuries. He walks towards you, the look on his face not the stoic one you’re used to seeing, “I know, I know, but I need to ask you to do something for me. It’s gonna be dangerous, and it’s gonna be risky, but you know I trust you with this type of stuff.”

“Frank, just tell me,” you cross your arms, the suspense killing you. 

He sighs, “I’m going to a big tech gala tomorrow to retrieve some information on a ghost, and I need a plus one. Figured I thought it would be less suspicious if I brought you instead of going by myself.” 

And after discussing the fine details, you agreed. Frank was surprised that you even considered, let alone say yes, but he knew you would do anything for your friends, even putting yourself in potential danger.

***

Slipping on your heels, you hear a knock at the door. Walking over and opening the door you see Frank in a clean black suit, you can’t help but scan your eyes up and down his figure. Little did you know, Frank was doing the same thing to you. While you were still speechless, Frank snapped out of his trance, feeling slightly guilty, he asked, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” clearing your throat, “let’s go!”

The car ride was mostly silent, you weren’t nervous until right now, and Frank could tell. Your hands were fidgeting with the fabric of your dress when he reached down to hold one and give it a tight squeeze. Looking up at him, he responds, “I’m gonna make sure nothing will happen to you tonight, I promise you.” 

You squeeze his hand back and nod, taking a deep breath. 

It didn’t take long until you drove right up to the gala’s steps, still holding onto Frank’s hand, and only letting go to step out of the car. As Frank handed the keys to the valet, your body was immediately searching for him again. The simple touch in the car made you yearn for more. In an instant he was at your side again, extending his arm to hold as you walked towards the front door. 

You knew he was only doing this for show, but some of you hoped it was real. 

As the front doors opened, you were greeted by a prestigious sight. The walls were lined with the company’s accomplishments while the guests were mingling either on the dance floor or at the tables with drinks in hand. No one pays the two of you any mind as you make your way to the party, everyone is either too dialed into conversation, or drunk to notice. 

As servers walk around with trays of champagne, Frank swiftly grabs two and hands one to you. Your eyes crinkle in confusion, “Aren’t we supposed to be working?” 

Frank takes a sip, savoring the taste, “I’m supposed to be working. Don’t worry, it’ll help your nerves, sweetheart.”

Bringing up the flute to your lips, you try to hide the obvious flustered look on your face, your cheeks suddenly warm. Sweetheart. 

After finishing his drink, he turns to you, “I’m gonna go look around. I’ll be right back.”

You nod your head, and suddenly the worry is back. This wasn’t some silly fantasy, you were here because of Frank and whatever information he needed. This was all a front, whatever was going on between you and him isn’t real.  

You must have zoned out while Frank was gone because he was back in what felt like a few minutes, “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

Frank doesn’t respond, only shakes his head once. Whatever happened while he was away was clearly not in his favor, and even you could tell. Placing your glass on a table near you, you grab his hand, your touch causing him to flinch away for a moment before he allows you in. You look back up at him, “Let’s dance.”

It takes him a second before he agrees, the silence making you anxious, but soon enough he follows. The music is slow, and couples around you sway back and forth in a delicate rhythm. Frank comfortably places both hands on your hips as you place yours on the back of his neck, the sudden closeness making your head spin. 

You apparently don’t hide your emotions well as Frank speaks softly into your ear, “What are you thinking about?”

There he goes with that nickname again, and maybe it’s the champagne, but you have some strong feelings that need to escape, “I’m just thinking about how every time you call me ‘sweetheart’, I can’t help but think about it for a while.”

“Oh really? What happens when you think about it?” You hide your face into his chest, too embarrassed to answer. “You’ve never been shy, don’t start now.”

Pulling away, you look up at him through hooded eyes, “I can’t tell you in public Frank, it’s too crowded in here.”

“Then let’s go somewhere private. Keeping thoughts inside your head is bad for you, you know.”

Frank leads you off the dancefloor quickly and to a hallway near the entrance, the people around looking at the two of you confused. You giggle as he continues to walk towards a door. Opening the door for you, Frank has led you into an office of some sort. A grand desk was placed in the middle of the room, surrounded by bookshelves, and of course a chair. You’re still looking around the room when Frank’s voice echoes through the space, “So, what were you going to tell me, sweetheart?”

You’re tired of his teasing, walking up to him by the door, you smash your lips onto his, quietly locking the door behind him. His hands, once again, find his way to you, but this time to the supple flesh of your ass. 

Walking forward, Frank guides you back until your legs hit the wood of the desk, causing you to sit. And then all of a sudden, you realize what you’re doing. You pull away from his lips, “Frank…what are we doing? You–You’re my friend, fuck what am I doing?”

“Hey, shh–,”

You cut him off, “Friends don’t do this kind of shit, Frank!”

You’re still sitting on the desk when his hand comes up to hold your face, “You’ll always be my friend, always. But you’ll always be something else, and it’s not just a friend.”

There’s nothing but relief in your body when he leans back down to kiss you again, a weight feels like it’s been lifted off your shoulders. You grasp the back of his neck, pulling him in to deepen your kiss. 

Taking his other hand, he reaches down to your dress, bunching the fabric in his hands as he reveals more and more of your skin. As soon as he reveals your thigh, he releases the fabric to pool just above your knee. You whine into his mouth, disappointment, craving his touch once again. 

He releases your lips, not fully pulling away. He hovers over you, before he mutters, “Nuh-uh, you’re gonna be patient, or I’ll make you wait till we get back to your place. Yeah?”

You nod, slightly lifting your head higher in an attempt to kiss him, your eyes locked onto his lips. He lifts his head higher this time, “I need you to say it, baby. Say you got it.”

You finally look into his eyes before speaking, “I got it.”

In an instant, he kneels to the floor, gliding his hand along your thigh, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. You knew exactly where he was going as you spread your legs for him, giving him easier access to where you really needed his touch. As soon as he is met with the delicate material of your panties, he groans, the fabric soaking wet. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You giggle in response, another groan leaving his lips. It seems like his patience was testing him too as he wastes no time pulling your panties to the side to rub his fingers up and down your slit. The sudden stimulation makes you throw your head back in pleasure. 

After a few swipes back and forth, he kisses your thigh, causing you to look down at him, “You’re so wet for me, fuck…you think you’re ready for me?”

You’re breathless as you respond, “Yes! Yes, I’m ready. Please.”

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he marvels, “but, I think you can be wetter than this, baby.”

You’re about to object when he pulls your dress up higher until you’re fully exposed. “I can make you wetter,” he hooks his fingers around your panties, pulling them down, “will you let me make you wetter?”

“Frank, please–please.”

Frank lifts your legs to rest on his shoulders, causing you to lean back on your elbows as he wraps his arms around your thighs. The cold air fluttering over your core sends a shiver down your back, but Frank’s mouth quickly remedies the cooling sensation, causing you to gasp. 

His tongue quickly found its way to your clit, giving it a few delicate licks before he sucks on it. You can’t help but reach down to his hair, tugging and pulling on the dark strands. And suddenly your head was spinning, and the feeling of his mouth on you started to feel too good, “I’m gonna cum…oh god.”

With the sound of your whines, he pulls away, causing you to look at him with confused and slightly angry eyes. He rises from his knees and starts to undo his dress pants, pulling at the belt with one hand, “What did I say about being patient?” 

Sighing for what felt like the millionth time tonight, you don’t object, not wanting to prolong this feeling of being on the edge. 

Once Frank was finished with his belt, he unbuttons his pants, pulls down his zipper, and wastes no time pulling everything off, revealing his cock. Holy shit. He was hard, and there was no doubt he was thick. You look at his cock for a while before you look back at him in disbelief, “Now I know why you needed me wetter…Jesus, Frank.”

He chuckles, “You gonna keep looking at my cock, or are you gonna let me fuck you with it, (Y/N)?”

His choice of words shock you into silence, only three words escaping your lips, “Fuck me, please.”

You pull your legs into your chest, giving Frank easier access. Rubbing his tip up and down your folds, he groans before pushing into you. He’s slow with his movements, easing you into the new feeling. You both let out a collective breathy sigh when he bottoms out, the stretch making your walls pulse. And of course, Frank feels it all, “You’re fucking swallowing me, taking me so well–-shit.” 

You can’t bear to hold yourself up anymore, opting to lay on the desk when he starts to pump faster. Frank is hitting that sweet spot in you, and you cannot get enough of it. Delicate moans are heard from you, but they quickly build up until the sound of your pleasure reverberates off the office walls. 

Softly placing a hand over your mouth, he mutters, “Shh, there are people in the other room, and they can probably hear every single sound coming out of your pretty mouth.” You’re too far gone in pleasure to care, or to quip back a witty response. You just lay there and take his cock, and he’s hitting all the right spots. Frank can feel you tense around him. He knows exactly how you’re feeling. “I know you’re gonna cum,” he releases the hold on your mouth to pull down the fabric covering your breasts, giving your hard nipples a pinch, “do it for me. Let everyone out there know how good I’m making you feel.”

You cum, and you cum hard, for him. Your senses are flooded by ecstasy, the feeling making you shake. You can feel Frank still pumping into you as you cum, helping you ride it out. In your hazy state, you are suddenly aware of Frank’s grip on your hips when you look up at him. He’s so close. With your core still fluttering around him from your orgasm, it doesn’t take long for him to pump you full of his load. The feeling of him painting your walls makes you moan again. 

Frank takes a breath before he pulls out of you, looking at the mixture of both your arousal spilling out of your swollen pussy. You’re adjusting your dress when he looks back up at you, taking a mental picture of your current state when he pulls his pants back up. He sees you wince as you slowly sit up, a flood of worry washes over his face,  as he places a hand behind your back,  “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m all good,” you stretch out your neck, “who knew laying on a hard desk would hurt your back? Not me, that’s for sure.”

He smiles before planting his lips on yours; but this time it wasn’t lustful, it was caring, it was soft. You can’t help but bring both hands up to his face, gently holding him. As you pull away, you suddenly realize why you were here in the first place, “Wait! What about the information you needed?” He keeps his gaze on you as he reaches into his suit pocket, pulling out a small thumb drive. Your eyes light up in amusement before giggling, “You’re pretty good, but what was with that pouty attitude earlier? Hm?”

“Just needed to be close to you,” he answers nonchalantly.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in again, “Like this?”

He nods, “Just like this, baby.”

Your cheeks were warm, admiring every feature on his face, you could see him better when you’re this close, “Let’s go home. I’m pretty sure everyone in a 50-foot radius heard me, and now I’m embarrassed.”

“Alright,” he gives you one more glance up and down your figure, smoothing out a wrinkle in the gown, “let’s go.”

“Mission accomplished?”

“Mission accomplished, sweetheart.”

--author's note: GUYS!!! first frank castle fic, we are so up right now. i've been waiting to craft this up because he's so delicious and so tortured, i need him so bad. THANK YOU anon!!! this request is picture perfect! MY 200 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION IS STILL GOING ON, so send me a request if you love me (im jk...no i'm not). don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! okay, bye ily<3333

[dyns33]

The Big Nice Punisher

I never gave love to Frank and Frank only in a story so I decided to change that

Y/N should have gotten used to it, now that she was friends with Matt, Foggy and Karen.

It had happened several times that the devil of Hell's Kitchen had knocked on her window to ask for a medical kit since she knew his secret, even if the fool preferred to die in a trash rather than ask his friends for help.

It had taken everyone's intervention to force him to admit that he had a problem, and that he could count on them if he wasn't being chased by an army of ninjas.

More than stubborn, his priority was above all to ensure that he did not bring any danger into their home.

Karen wasn't Matt.

She didn't want her friends to be in danger either, but her moral compass was visibly broader, and allowed her to do more things.

Like coming to Y/N with the Punisher losing a lot of blood, asking if she could hide him for a few days and make sure he was still breathing.

Y/N had followed Frank Castle's trial on television, like the whole city. She had heard about all the people he had killed, but also the people he had saved. She had heard what happened to his wife and children. And above all, she had read in all the newspapers that he was dead.

“Can you explain to me or are you going to tell me it’s better if I know as little as possible ?” she asked as she helped Karen place him on her couch.

"Actually, I don't know. I found him like this when I came home from work. Your apartment was closer, excuse me. He doesn't want a hospital, for obvious reasons, and I was afraid he wouldn't manage to get to my place."

"Okay. Just promise me he won't jump on me when he wakes up."

“Frank is very nice, don’t worry.”

'Nice' probably wouldn't have been the first word Y/N, or anyone, would have used when talking about the Punisher, but Karen was pretty good at judging people, and that was out of the question to leave him to die anyway.

Even if she managed to see the good in him, it still seemed a bit exaggerated and even very optimistic that Karen would decide to leave Frank Castle unconscious in a stranger's house. She took the time to write a little note, telling Y/N that she could show him if he didn't trust her, but repeating that everything would be fine.

If he didn't have a reason to hurt her, he wouldn't hurt her. Really very reassuring.

Sure enough, the Punisher woke up in a panic as Y/N was making dinner, looking around with wary eyes and grimacing when he saw her. His first instinct was not to attack her but to try to flee, but his injury did not allow him to reach the door, his path ending in the middle of the living room.

“Karen warned me this would happen.” Y/N sighed, hesitating to put down her knife.

"Who are you ? Where am I ? Where is Karen ?"

“In order, I'm Y/N, you're at my house, and Karen had a job emergency so I'm babysitting for her.”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” he groaned, holding his leg.

"Look, you don't want to be here, I'm not really happy about it either, but if you let me help you, you can leave quickly."

"I'm leaving now."

"Oh, no way ! I promised Karen I wouldn't let you die and I feel like you're just as stupid as Matt, so you're going to rest your ass on the couch, you're going to eat, then I'll see if you haven't reopened your wound !'

"… Yes Ma'am."

The terrible Punisher then began to look like a little lost dog, speaking little and accepting the plate that Y/N offered him, thanking her with a nod, his big black eyes following her as soon as she moved in the room.

He insisted that he could take care of his leg, but just one look made him shut up again, letting Y/N do what she wanted, since he obviously had no choice.

"I'm not a doctor, but between your broken ribs, the bullet that was in your leg, and the other marks on your body, I will say that it would be best for you to rest for a few days before you start punishing people again."

“No time to wait.”

"That wasn't a suggestion, doctor's orders."

“You just said you’re not a doctor.” he said with a smirk.

“I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

In the end, his leg was causing him too much pain and Karen had forbidden him to move over the phone, it was decided that Frank Castle would stay with Y/N ​​for at least a week. He seemed to be the most annoyed by the situation.

Both women were right about him : he was nice, and he was like Matt. He didn't like asking for help, and he was afraid of putting innocent people in danger by his mere presence.

Yes, he had tried to find Karen when he was injured, but Karen knew how to defend herself, and he would have found a way to convince her to let him go. He didn’t know Y/N. He didn't like the idea of ​​intruding into her home, into her life, into her world, even if Red wasn't far away.

"I also know how to defend myself if necessary, Mr. Castle."

"Of course Miss. And it's Frank."

“I can do the dishes by myself too, Frank.”

“I have no doubt about that, but I’m squatting on your couch, it’s the least I can do.”

A week might not seem like much, but aside from her colleagues and the trio, Y/N didn't see many people. This daily proximity to Frank made the atmosphere strange.

He always spoke little, almost never about himself, hiding his wounds like a proud animal, but being interested in her, not missing an opportunity to help her around the apartment as a sign of gratitude, and listening to her talk about her days with patience and sympathy.

It was almost difficult when his condition allowed him to leave. They had gotten used to each other and the separation gave them as much pleasure as their meeting.

Still looking like a puppy who didn't know how to behave, Frank gave her his number, just in case, taking hers if he needed to check on her. He wouldn't call her for a favor, it wasn't like him.

Obviously, his style was to stop giving any news at all and to completely disappear from people's lives.

Y/N could try to understand. He was dead in the eyes of society, he had a complicated past, his main occupation was murdering criminals… But all the same, a little message from time to time wasn't complicated.

The worst part was that he was in contact with Karen. Her friend seemed surprised that he hadn't contacted her. According to her, Frank loved her very much.

"He's shy, that stupid man. I'll tell him to call you."

"No, that's not necessary. I'm glad to know he's okay."

"Don't be ridiculous, you want to talk. He also asked me about you, I should have known he would do that."

Y/N probably should have too, but because in hindsight she didn't see why someone like Frank Castle would want to keep in touch with her. She had been useful, nothing more. Next to Karen, beautiful, intelligent Karen who he had known for a long time, Y/N didn't stand a chance.

There was also his family, for whom he had sacrificed everything. If he was only "friends" with Karen, there had to be a reason and that was because he refused to betray his dead wife.

This enchanted parenthesis of a week had been nothing other than a parenthesis.

It was stupid to be so sad for a man she had only seen for a week. And yet, Y/N was sad. So sad that she didn't pay attention to the time while having a drink at Josie's.

No doubt she forgot that despite the presence of Daredevil, Hell's Kitchen remained a dangerous place. Matt couldn't be everywhere.

So it wouldn't have been a surprise when she was followed by two guys, who cornered her in an alley and threatened her with a knife so that she would give them her bag. Then one of them looked at her with a funny look and licked his lips, and she tried to run away.

Before they could touch her, the first one had his head smashed against the wall. The other screamed, trying to defend himself with his knife, but the weapon ended up in his leg, and he was knocked out with a punch.

Slowly so as not to frighten her further, Frank helped her up, checking her for injuries and returning her things.

"Are you alright ?"

"Yes. I was careless."

“Not your fault, sweetheart.”

"I guess we're even now." she tried to joke, while sobbing. Y/N hoped he would think it was because of the shock, and not because she thought she wouldn't see him again afterwards.

This didn't make him laugh. He looked at her with his sad, worried eyes, shyly rubbing her shoulder as he listened to her breathing, waiting for her to calm down.

Then still without a word, he took out his coat to put it on her shoulders before walking her home.

There, he only left her when she was sitting on the sofa, to go get her a glass of water, letting go of it when he was sure she was holding it well, and remaining kneeling on the floor right next to her.

"… Karen said you were angry. Because I didn't call." he whispered, his eyes stopping from staring at her for a second.

"Karen is talking nonsense. I'm a big girl, and you owed me nothing. Nothing at all. I was happy to help you, and stupid to think that… Thanks for saving me. You don't have to stay."

Silence returned, but Frank didn't move. He stayed until she finished her glass, then until she was done shaking and crying, his hand never leaving hers.

But he still didn't move. And in that moment, Y/N wondered if he too had been disappointed when their week together was over.

Maybe Karen was right, he was shy, and he didn't want to put her in danger by staying in contact with her. As stubborn and insufferable as Matthew. And also nice. Why else would he have been there to protect her ?

"It's not a good idea." he suddenly muttered, closing his eyes.

"What ?"

Frank sighed, seeing that she might cry again. He could have left right away, because he didn't think his presence was a good idea, and probably he was right. No doubt it was ridiculous to love the Punisher.

But continuing to mutter, he stood up slightly, pressing his forehead against hers. Now he held both hers hands, looking desperate, opening pleading eyes.

He couldn't stay, but that didn't mean he didn't want to more than anything in the world.

"It's not a good idea." he repeated, however, as if to force himself to move, to remember his course of action, and he was quickly on his feet, ready to leave.

“Frank…”

"No."

“Frank…”

The door was closed as quickly as it had been opened and in an instant Frank was there again, kissing her like a thirsty man who had just found an oasis in the middle of the desert.

But the moment was furtive, almost a mirage, because the soldier quickly shook his head, swearing and saying again that it really wasn't a good idea, before fleeing the apartment.

Y/N could have been mad at him for that. But she was too busy touching hers lips, thinking that if he had kissed her against his principles, maybe Frank Castle loved her enough to come back.

This idea stayed with her, after she received a message just before going to sleep. Simple message, which made her smile.

"I was happy too. You're not stupid. Good night."

Yes, they would probably see each other again. In secret, at times when she wouldn't expect to find him in her apartment. But she was a bit used to Matt, Foggy and Karen. This wouldn't be a problem at all.

[the-art-ghost]

I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense this is my first ask but what is all of there dynamics like icarus, issac, frankie, and jack? Also I really love your designs especially Frankie's I love your take of him

I would love to explain them!

(And thank you! I’m surprised Frankie is getting so much love but I appreciate it so much)

The dynamics of Icarus, Frank, Isaac, and Laughing Jack

Icarus

LJ- Icarus’ Parental figures (Jack has an aversion to being called dad or mom) who’s always there. Jack has never let Icarus down once, always showing up and being by his side whether that’s his elementary play to his sporting events. Even if his dreams are dangerous Jack is his safety net. He taught him everything he needs to know to survive and allows him to learn on his own to build his confidence in his strange world. At the same time he doesn’t really know what’s going on in his head…he always seems like he’s thinking of something else. He just wants a little more independence from him…he’s a little really clingy…

Frankie- His nextdoor neighbor is the coolest man he knows of. Killing people for large sums of money, figuring out mysteries, being undead! Jack doesn’t let him hang around him, but that never stops him. He’s always trying to chat and have a drink with him whenever he can. He even let him shoot his gun once! Maybe when he finally moves out he could shadow under him…learn how to be the best killer out there!

Frankie

Icarus- His young nextdoor neighbor. He’s known about this kid since he was in diapers and watched from a distance him grow into a young man. He’s shocked that a creature like Jack could raise human boy, let alone for that child to still be kind… It’s rare in this place that someone can still be happy here… a ray of sunshine in this dark world. He’s let the kid tag along once and awhile on some of his milder missions (mostly to keep him away from Jack). He’s a damn good kid…he just hopes he can get out while he can

LJ- The Imaginer… this one confuses him deeply. He doesn’t behave like all the others. Maybe he’s a different breed…whatever the case he can’t be trusted. How did he get a child? Did he kill the kids parents to get him Maybe he’s raising that kid just to slaughter him like a pig…maybe to turn him into an Imaginer? He isn’t sure. He’ll keep an eye on him…

Laughing Jack

Frankie- The prick that lives next to him. From the moment they met he knew that undead guy wasn’t going to like him. He know exactly why the guy hates him, but he doesn’t care enough to confront him. They constantly tussle and bad mouth each other…if he could kill him he would, but that would raise suspicion to him and possibly Icarus. So he bites his tongue and thinks about splattering across the sidewalk internally

Icarus- His son Icky, his beautiful boy. When he found him that faithful day, something inside of him changed… he saw Issac in that small crying baby. He saw the possibility of changing fate, of giving Issac something he never could at the time. He made it his mission to raise Icarus, and so he did. He spent sleepless night learning and raising him the best he could, training him to survive not by brute strength but with wit and flexibility, soothing his fevers with long cold fingers. But at the same time he’s distant…because he’s so scared. Scared to lose him like Issac, scared that he’ll find out what he is, scared he’ll hate him… maybe he’ll hold him for a little bit longer…

Now what about Isaac? Where is he?

He is dead.

Only Jack knows about him. And he’ll never tell a soul.

Dead people don’t talk.

That’s all for today!

Thank you for reading everything

Host out!

. . .

. . .

. . .

So will this work?

Of course it will. I know what I’m doing.

But how do you know? Humans are-

Just trust me. This will work.

[zvdvdlvr]

— Give Me A Reason

synopsis. You want to be an Auror. As one of his favorite and brightest students, Aesop tries to convince you to not put your life on the line for a job. warnings. Making out. Age gap. Student/teacher. Self deprecation. Reader is the hero of hogwarts. R is in seventh year (aged 18). Mutual pining. Idiots. “In all seven years of my student-ing,” you said abruptly, drawing Professor Sharp’s attention from the essays he graded. “I’ve only heard you bring up your Auror days twice. May I go as far as to ask why?”

The man leaned back in his chair, watching the student he had grown to care for as… Professor Sharp watched you keep a careful eye on your Vertiserum as you organized potion ingredients on his shelves. “There isn’t much to speak about anymore. It was dangerous, and even when it wasn’t… there was never a moment in my life I wouldn’t look over my shoulder at every snap of a twig.”

“But…?” You prompted, knowing the potion’s master had more to tell you: he just liked to torture you.

“But the job has it’s… rewards. The pay is good. I hated the paperwork though.”

“Ew,” you agreed, moving onto the next shelf after adjusting the temperature of the fire below the cauldron.

A seed of fear suddenly bloomed in Aesop’s mind. “Is there a reason you’re asking about Aurors?”

You nodded. “It’s one of the only jobs I’m interested in. I have the grades for it, the experience,” you bit your lip, a rush of memories crossing your brain as you thought about all the escapades you pulled off in your first (fifth) year at Hogwarts. “It’s… the only job I see myself doing.”

Professor Sharp felt his stomach drop. No. There was no way he was sending in one of the brightest students he’d ever taught into a system that would likely kill her. “The paperwork is what you’d be stuck doing most of the time,” the man lied.

You looked surprised. “Oh.”

Aesop felt a flush of hope in his chest, hoping desperately to persuade you away from the career of an Auror. Anything but that.

“I’d still do it,” you said finally, a determined tone in your voice.

The hope died. “I see,” Aesop murmured disapprovingly.

“Why do I get a feeling you aren’t thrilled about my career choice?” You asked, finishing the second shelf.

“I was wondering when you’d catch on. Points to (your house),” Aesop wittly replied. His small smile disappeared. “Miss y/l/n, to be quite frank with you, the job will take a toll on you- mentally and physically. Not only will you undergo numerous field injuries, there is always the chance you would… die. This job is dangerous, isolating, and overall not a very enviable job.”

You just nodded. “I understand that risk, Professor. But I have a reason for wanting the job. I have a reason to put my life on the line for others. A reason for… for my own life to be sacrificed for others to live peacefully, should the time come. I’ve already thought this through.”

“Then tell me your reason. Give me a reason why your life is not as important as others’s?” Professor asked, sharp eyes watching your rigid form slowly turn to him.

“I’ve nothing keeping me here. I have the talent, and you cannot deny it. This- This is the only thing I’ll have after graduation! I- Professor, please don’t talk me out of this,” you pleaded, eyes glinting in the dim light of the classroom.

Now you’ve done it, old man. But he pressed on. “‘Nothing keeping you here’?!” The man stood up, furious, disappointed, and… surprisingly sad. “This isn’t a joke, y/l/n. You have plenty of things ‘keeping you here’! Your little Sallow friend, that Sweeting girl, the blind boy you sit by,” Aesop listed angrily, unconsciously stalking towards you. “Merlin, you have-“ he cut himself off abruptly, realizing the word he was going to say after. Me. Me, y/n, you have me. A part of Aesop scoffed: idiot, you are; only a fool would want an old cripple like you and everyone knows y/n isn’t a fool- besides, she’s a student. Date a student and people are going to wonder if you were given special treatment.

”Who else, Professor?” You asked, tilting your head to look at the man you had been crushing on for the last few years. Please, you thought, say it.

You took the smallest step forward, making Aesop realize how close he was to you. Your intense gaze held him there, refusing to move. He knew what you wanted, and he knew it would be disastrous if he gave in. But, truly, he was only a man. Standing in fromt of an intelligent, talented, beautiful, and witty woman. “Me,” the man whispered, tearing his gaze away from you.

“Give me a reason not to, Aesop. Give me a reason to st-“ you hadn’t finished your sentance before Aesop’s shaking hands grasped your side and pulled, forcing your body against his. He kept one hand on your nack, lightly holding onto him in case you suddenly fled for the door and moved one callused hand to your face. He brushed away a stray hair and his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Aesop whispered. His voice, low and gravely, made you shudder against his body.

Your eyelashed fluttered as you struggled to stay calm in his overwhelming presence. “Kiss me.”

Aesop’s lips locked onto yours, a low groan bubbling out of his mouth and being swallowed by yours as you kissed back with the same passion as he. Aesop cursed himself, knowing you could easily realize who you were making out with and run off, taking Aesop’s heart with you.

But maybe you needed this as much as he did. Your small gasps and whimpers surely fanned the flames of Aesop’s hope that you wanted him. Your hand slid up Aesop’s wide back and threaded into his hair, tangling. He groaned at your actions.

You pulled away abruptly, resting your forhead on Aesop’s shoulder. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Was that good enough of a reason?” Aesop asked, knowing full well you were still probably imagining yourself as an Auror.

“Kiss me again and I’ll see if it was truly satisfactory,” you joked, looking up at the man who’s heart was currently in your unknowing hands.

“Y/n,” Aesop finally murmured, hand still on the small of your back. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

”What?”

“Promise me when you’re on the field… promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I promise. Sir, what-“

“I can’t damage your reputation by being in public with you like this. As much as I wish, it cannot be. At least, not in the near future,” he whispered, resting his chin on your head.

“I know.”

Silence fell over the pair: you not wanting to move from Aesop’s comforting arms and Aesop not wanting you to go.

“I think your Veritaserum is done,” Aesop said.

You laughed, still clinging to Aesop.

[manofbeskar]

Okay, I am interested in your Dracule Uta posts now. (She's just so cute and I just know he embroidered that flower on her onesie!!) I need to know more!!

I don't have too much details yet but this is what I have for now:

While Shanks finds her in a treasure chest after raiding another crew, Mihawk instead finds her after killing some marines and discovering her on their ship, eating a devil fruit. He figures the Marines probably don't have good intentions for her so he takes her with him.

For the first few days/weeks, he tries to find another home for her. He thinks his life as a marine hunter and lone pirate is too dangerous to care for an infant. A bit of a Buddy Daddies thing in that way, that he's too dangerous to be around and frankly doesn't want the responsibility.

When he finds out which devil fruit she ate (still the Sing-Sing fruit), he realises he can't risk her falling into the hands of someone more corrupt who can manipulate her powers. He decides to go all in and try his best to raise her properly.

He goes to Shanks for help. He himself never had good parents, but he knows Shanks had a good relationship with Roger and his crew also has older men who may have advice to offer. He gets closer to the RHP this way, learning from them how to best care for a baby.

Shanks grows close to Uta. He likes that her hair makes her look like his and Mihawk's baby. He also treats her like she is their kid, always accidentally calls himself her father. Uta also thinks of him like that. Similar to Buddy Daddies again, Mihawk and Shanks both acknowledge they have parental roles in her life but, at this point in time, don't view themselves as romantic co-parents.

(Of course, they have feelings for each other but Mihawk is oblivious to his feelings and Shanks is secretly crushing hard. He loves how good Mihawk is with the kid and how hard he's trying)

Shanks likes to bribe Uta with sweets to talk him up to Mihawk. Always backfires on him because she's way too frank about it (learned that from Mihawk). She'll just say shit like, "Mihawk, Shanks told me he wants to kiss you!" and it embarrasses Shanks every time.

Uta loves being carried by Mihawk. He carries and controls Yoru so easily. Even teen Uta is practically weightless in his arms. It reminds her of when he first found her and rocked her in his arms as they rode his boat back to his home.

Uta sees Mihawk and Shanks's feelings for each other grow over the years until on her 12th birthday she told them to get a grip and go out already. They went out and have been together ever since.

Mihawk and Shanks figured out a co-parenting arrangement a few years before Shanks docked at Windmill Village. Mihawk thinks it will be good for Uta to go sailing with Shanks every once in a while as his experiences sailing with him have always ended with fun stories and meeting new people.

Mihawk wants Uta to get out there and appreciate the world's vastness. He often takes her sailing (if she isn't sailing with Shanks) and shows her all his favourite spots. Sometimes Shanks comes along and tells her stories of "that time me and Mihawk came here ourselves and this really cool thing happened"

Mihawk let Shanks take Uta for longer than before when he docked at Windmill Village as he wanted Uta to make long-term friends that weren't twice her age like himself and the RHP, so she still meets Luffy. While he is a loner, he wants Uta to experience everything and meet people from all walks of life so she can figure out exactly who she wants to be.

Mihawk trained her to be a strong swordswoman since young. She's very skilled with the blade but told him she wanted to be a singer. Mihawk supports her preference and is happy to listen to all her new songs. As he strived to be the greatest swordsman when he was young, he now wants to help Uta become the greatest musician. He tunes in for every broadcast she does and makes sure the RHP catches them too. Uta still cares a lot about her swordsmanship and practices it often to stay sharp.

She carried a bamboo sword as a kid, then got Shanks's old one with the red hilt as a hand-me-down when she was 15. For her 18th birthday, Mihawk had a Yoru-inspired blade crafted for her. She named it "Musica". It looks similar to Yoru but the orbs are red and heart-shaped, the blade isn't black, and it's shorter.

She lives at Kuraigana with Mihawk but splits her time between there and wherever Shanks is. When Perona moved in, they became close friends. Perona loves hearing about her Mihawk stories. She also regularly duels with Zoro when he moves in, insists he doesn't stand a chance against Mihawk if he can't even beat his first student.

Uta's favourite colour is teal because it's the colour Yoru's blade shines.

Her eyes have rings as Mihawk also taught her powerful observation haki (I don't know if the rings are directly relevant to that but I like how the rings look on her)

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 1

Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the 'lost' daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Note: This is x reader but I have given ‘you’ a name. Also I needed Radagast for this story but I think technically she’d have been born before he even arrived but let’s just ignore that. If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters let me know. Translations: lothíriel (flower-garlanded maiden) anarórë (sunrise) vanwa (lost) aranel (princess) melui (lovely)

“Lothíriel!” Radagast cried out the nickname he had called you since you were but a babe in his arms, standing at the door of his little cottage deep in the forest of Mirkwood. His fingers curled around his wooden staff as he looked this way and that, brows furrowed with just the mildest hint of frustration. He was rather used to this song and dance by now. You would seemingly go missing from right under his large nose, sneaking off through the trees to mingle with the wildlife and sing to the flowers. You were a daughter of the forest, sure enough, and there was seemingly nothing that Radagast could do to keep you in check. Not that he would ever wish to dampen your spirit or dim your light, but it was his job to keep you safe and sound, after all. Keep you... hidden.

A great many years had passed since the days when this task had been appointed to him. Since that fateful day of your birth in Lindon when the Enchantress had dared show her face, laying ruin to all that could have been for you. Then the darker days that followed still. The Last Alliance. Your father, High King Gil-Galad, being slain by Sauron himself, alongside King Oropher. Dark days, indeed.

You knew nothing of any of this and that was how Radagast intended to keep it. For now. You were i vanwa aranel, as the tales told, the lost princess... and you needed to remain that way for at least another thousand years or so yet. When the full danger of the Enchantress was no longer a danger to you.

“Anarórë!” Radagast called again, using the name that you had been given just before being smuggled from Lindon under the cover of darkness. Your name was the only thing your father had been able to give you and he had gifted you the name that his beloved Queen had longed to bestow upon you - naming you after her most favourite time of day - before she was killed by the evil Enchantress that was to blame for your being out here and not in the halls of a palace as was your birthright.

“Ooh!” Radagast shook his head, turning to the bird on his shoulder with a worried expression as he heaved a sigh. He was always prone to concern, especially when you were not within his line of eyesight. “Now where has she gotten to!”

You were rather far away from the cottage where you had grown up, and from your uncle Radagast, whom you loved with your entire being but who could at times, to be quite frank, drive you rather mad. He made such a big deal of keeping you safe but some days it could feel like you were suffocating. Like treading water and never being able to move forwards. Some days it seemed that he would have enchanted the cottage to keep you inside at all times if he could. Still, you knew that he simply loved you and wished to keep you from harm.

The Greenwood was beginning to change, even you could feel that. There were pockets of thick, suffocating darkness and you could have sworn that once you saw a spider. Not just any spider but the largest spider you had ever seen in your whole life. It was said that the Elvenking was preparing to lead his people further north across the forest river due to this growing shadow.

Despite being an elf yourself, you had never met any of the wood elves that lived under the Elvenking’s rule. In truth, you did not even know the King’s name. You had watched a few of them in secret but you had never dared approach them. Radagast had always explicitly told you never to speak to strangers and something about the look in his eyes made you realise that he had some genuine reason and you followed that rule rather explicitly.

Still, you did not understand why, for how could you? How could you know that evil could take the fairest of forms to trick you into its clutches? How could you know that such evils were indeed looking for you? Actively seeking you out all over this world and had been since your birth? Radagast kept your history from you to keep you safe. As far as anybody need know, you were naught but a simple elf-maid dwelling beneath the trees of the Greenwood.

Still, it could be lonely, and you often imagined yourself outing your own presence and being welcomed into the fray of others of your kind. You adored your uncle, you truly did, and you loved your life in these woods with the wizard - but some days only conversing and interacting with him and the squirrels could become quite tiresome in a sense.

“Hey!” You laughed, lifting your gaze as a little robin gently tugged on strands of your hair from where it hovered in the air beside your head. Your thoughts melted away as you turned your focus to the little creature, suddenly realising that it was not alone. A group of familiar little animals were lined up on a nearby tree branch, looking down at you rather expectantly.

“There you are!” You chuckled, moving closer and reaching out to run your fingers through some of their fur and feathers. “I was beginning to think that you had all decided to abandon me this day!”

The animals tittered and shifted, little sounds coming from some of them as they shook their heads in dismay, eager to let you know that they would never! This little group of beasts made up some of your closest friends in this wood and a lot of days you would meet them in the clearing and pass your afternoon together.

“Oh, I am only teasing.” You laughed brightly, moving over to sit upon a fallen log, gazing up at the sky.

One of the birds began chirping and you turned to look at them, shaking your head a little as they told you Radagast was looking for you. “Well, I am not ready to go back yet.” You replied. “I have barely been out of the house in the last few days.” Another little chatter from the bird came, telling you he was worried there were strangers in the woods, and you shook your head. “He needn’t bother. Even when there is, I do not approach them. Does he not trust me? Sometimes he treats me as thought I am still a child!”

A soft silence fell upon the clearing, all your little friends looking sad as they contemplated your words, your loneliness. Even they seemed to know that even though you had them, and even though you had Radagast, perhaps it wasn’t always enough.

“Come on now!” You chuckled, brightening a little. “Let us not dwell on all of that. I will go back soon, I promise. He will not start to truly panic for another while yet.” You knew him well enough to know that you had some time to spare before he came charging through the trees with his trusty rabbit sled. “Come, keep me company while I pick some berries. Tonight I am going to make some more cakes!”

A distance away through the trees, a large brown elk was moving at a gentle trot. Astride him sat a lone rider, shoulders straight and guard up just slightly. His long white hair was cascading down his shoulders, free of any elaborate adornments, and as he rode he looked about him, studying the forest.

King Thranduil was travelling alone, something that he did not always do anymore, but his trusty swords were at his side and he knew that, if necessary, his elk could outrun any dangers that they may come upon. If he did not get them first. There was a shadow falling somewhere, he could sense it, but it was still faint and with any luck it would stay that way.

Thranduil turned his attention to the path ahead of him as he moved through the forest, aware that he would have to turn back soon and return to his realm. There was a lot to do, many preparations to make, however he had been rather needing a little bit of peace and quiet. He could defend himself well enough and it had been some time since he had been able to be truly alone. He had a heavy weight on his shoulders and he had since his father, Oropher, had fallen to Sauron, leaving him to rule. Thus the Prince had become the King overnight and, while Thranduil had often had an urge to flee and hide, it was not a whim that he would give into.

As his elk moved through the trees, Thranduil suddenly became aware of a sound filtering through all the other woodland noises. It wasn’t exactly close by and it appeared to be coming from somewhere to his right, which was not the direction he needed to go, but he found himself pulled towards it somehow.

It was somebody singing, he realised, and he normally would have simply smiled and left them to it but it was such a beautfiful melody, a voice the likes of which he was not sure he had ever heard before in all his years - and Thranduil had heard a lot of singing in his lifetime.

“Melui...” He murmured to himself, lost in the beautiful tune for a few moments before he stirred again and urged his elk to the right, struck by the sudden desire to find whoever could produce such a sweet sound.

“Come on, my friend... this way." He directed to his elk as he gently tugged the reins to redirect the beast, heading off in the direction of the singing, not caring if it was perhaps a little out of his way as his curiosity got the better of him.

His elk snorted, disgruntled at going off track, though it reminded the animal a little of the prince of old and it easily gave in, shaking its large head as it trundled off through the trees in the direction its master commanded.

[zvcvxl]

Ellie Williams x Reader (ONESHOT)

WARNINGS!: mf you aint even reading this shit dont even

You’ve always tried distancing yourself from people outside your friend group, however, when attention is on you, you tend to act like its your natural habitat. Even when your at the brink of - pissing yourself, breaking down in a gut wrenching breakdown, killing yourself leaving.

And let’s just say boy’s are one of your biggest fears, don’t even mention when they are in a group, gosh, you just murmur under your breath, a silent prayer whether you believe or not…

Alcohol, drugs, smoking…listen you aren’t a pussy but you just simply decline usually when any of the three are offered to you, and it’s definitely not cus your scared.

If you even stepped a centimetre within the area of your crush chances are you would loose your shit and blush hysterically, one time you almost passed out, and let me tell you, your friends do not put that past you.

“what am I even doing here” you murmur to yourself at the ridiculously ridiculous situation you are in. Can you blame yourself though? I mean, if you weren’t sitting on large ass, crimson red brick, staring at the abandoned deteriorating building with glass shards speckled amongst the sweaty, dancing people which stunk with a pungent odour of weed and bitter alcohol, strike number one,you would have been facing major remarks from your friend group.

Scurrying to a more closed-off space, the melancholy symphonies evaporating within the orchestra of voices either singing, making out or doing what the f*ck ever. You dont care. Never really have.

As your eyes search the dark sector which only was getting engulfed by the frat boys being provocative and total dumbasses, strike number two, you curse under your breath which was followed by a fog due to the freezing temperatures and how exposed the building came to be.

It was a 40 minute ride from campus, something you normally couldn’t put up with, nor would your friends in reality, but if they’re boyfriends did? They did too…meaning you’d be the last one out and no-one wants that, so you ,reluctantly, join them. Immediately regretting it when you saw the building, frankly it was creepy, had multiple floors and you needed to really squint you eyes to see it was a hospital. And it was pitch dark.

The sound of your pulse may be heard when your nervous, and you’re here to volunteer as a tribute and agree with that dilemma given the circumstances of the situation you have voluntarily put yourself in.

As your walking around trying to make it seem like your not hysterically going to breakdown in tears of you dont find your friends because thats super embarrassing like a lost puppy you cant help but feel pissed at your friends, one for leaving you and another for having toxic ass boyfriends that dont know how to communicate for shit.

A scoff escaped your lips in which your bottom lip was caught between your teeth in a way of dangerous comfort, due to the fact you can taste the metallic bitterness of your blood flushed against your tongue. Suddenly, reminding you of saltburn and you cant help but grimac-

Ayo, what the fu-

Your head darts to the person who rudely interrupted your reminiscent reminder of saltburn by shoving past you with a harsh tone.

And then You see Her.

The girl who raves off of attention, feeding off it, craving for it, addicted to it.

The girl who pays no mind to groups of boys, frat boys, any boys.

The girl who dreads life when a single day passes by without drugs, alcohol or a quick smoke. She never misses on the opportunity, gosh, shed be the one offering.

Your opposite

Your enemy

Your reason for hating college

Ellie Williams

Her harsh scowl interrupts your brain from processing a response, her auburn hair tied into her iconic half-up-half-down which makes you cream lowk annoyed.

“What the f*ck?” You say with a glare that could only be gifted to Ellie Williams.

“not my f*ckin fault your dumbass was in the way” you swear its almost like she has these interactions preplanned in her head because of how quick she always is to reply.

Either way, you cant deny Ellie is totally having you cream piss in your pants right now. The way she stands in front of you with her dark blue skinny jeans and her stupid grey hoodie, she looks like a hobo but pulls it off because her face was gifted.

Her forest green eyes stare into my pigmented ones, shes waiting for my response, and so are a few people near us…

“You know damn well i wasnt in your way Ellie” Is the only way you can fend or even muster up for yourself in this given moment, your heart doing palpitations, hands shaking but folded beneath your chest.

Ellie chuckles, she never backs down and she sure as hell won’t start doing that now, even with her toying with the fabric of her sleeve.

She’s always right, after all.

“Coulda fooled me.”

You roll your eyes, isn’t she creative? “oh wow Ellie, your awfully funny today, want a cookie?”

gosh she just made your blood boil.

She always knew how to get under your skin

“Yeah sure, snickerdoodle sounds good. So thanks.” you don’t even have to look at her to see her smile you could practically sense it, she enjoys these back and forths you guys have.

To tell the truth, you do too.

Doing the smart thing, and totally not because your scared since attention is on both of you and the music is starting to die down you walk away…well I say that but people are quick to block your so called path.

And Ellie grasps your arms before you could even think to push them away.

“Oh wow, running away already? What happened to the girl who would stay and deal with all of my snarky comments.” The feeling of her hand on your forearm sends my neurons crazy, you feel a blush rising up your cheeks.

And why the f*ck is everyone looking at us right now?

You can't help but feel the world freeze for a second, adrenaline too hard to cope, anger through the roof.

And everyone looking at us, the frat boys, the unholy aroma engulfing my nostrils.

Strike number three

Ellie immediately retracts her hand from my arm and her skilled hand hovers over the stinging feeling, which found itself on her left cheek.

Your action was like gasoline pouring on a bonfire, your slap enough to make Ellie's rage burst into a roaring flame.

“You f*cking c*nt” the auburn haired girl spews, her eyes starring daggers at you as her eyes quick gloss at the arrangement of people surrounding the two of you.

And with rapid pace you take the hint that thats your cue to leave another one of your problems…only this one cant be ran from.

“sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t-sh*t” Is all that escapes your slightly parted lips as heavy breathing almost conceals your profanity whilst strands of hair undone from your ponytail, beads of sweat trickling down your temples. Hurriedly, trying to squeeze through the people towards the parking lot.

The pang in your chest, your heartbeat, so loud Ellie could hear from across the perimeter of the parking lot. Before you could even reach the bustop you feel a firm hand grasp ur arm, so tightly that zinc could feel malleable. You feel your eyes widen and your breath runs shaky.

Looking down, seeing the veiny, bony, tatted hand on your arm you could only guess..no..know this was Ellies hand. However, before you had any time to react her voice roars into your ears and you groan audibly making her spit profanity’s at you left and right like it was her job.

“You fucking bitch!”

“Slut!”

Jeez…wont she ever shut the fuck up…you thought?

Ellies eyebrows twitched, her slit becoming more defined, her eyes narrowed. Dangerous silence engulfed the air making you choke.

“The fuck did you just say?”.

You so fucked up, you internally curse yourself for a mistake like thinking out loud.

Pause, why is she looking at you like that…or why does the moon make her freckles so evident, her eyes mesmerising, her lips softer? The subtle shine of the moon making her attractive. No but why is she inching closer?

Why are you inching closer?

As her eyes stare into yours, she dosent have to say anything, Ellie’s eyes are hungry for you, shes hungry for you.

Her soft lips graze yours

Her eyes close

Her unstable breathing

She, you, kiss. A desperate kiss, a needy one its perfect. You both become one flesh, the auburns girls hands grip your waist as if your gonna leave her, you find your arms slithering around her cold neck as the sound of you guys making out cancels out the frat music, your heart beats syncing. Both of your breaths so hot, panting, trying to salvage the kiss before you pull away to catch your breath.

“Breathe, baby” you both have a moment of staring at each other, the air becoming hot. She grabs you into her arms again. Taking you as hers, your lips smashing with hers again. Only thing different is that, this time her hands roam around your body, touching you oh so desperately. It seems as if shes guiding you somewhere, suddenly, you hear her keys jingling, a car unlocking.

A car door opening.

Ellie pushes you into the backseat of her car, harshly before slamming the door behind her and her emerald eyes catch you in a trance of consent and you nod.

“I need you so bad Ellie…fuck”

“oh yeah?” her lips curl into that stupid smirk.

“yeah baby” you breathe out.

“show me how much you need me then”

And thats all you needed, your fingers find their way to ur clothed cunt, the area wet with ecstasy. You can feel her eyes tracing every one of your movements.

“so wet already? Didnt even need to touch you babe, huh?” Ellies hot breath sends chills through you as you arch your back at the sensation of your fingers rubbing circles on your panties, growing wetter, needier.

She looks up at you, her brow arched as your spread legs close.

“Why’d you stop baby?” she says before realising your shaking too much your fingers cant find the right rhythm on your clit to pleasure you. She chuckles, finding your humiliation comedic.

“Tell me what you want” you tuck a strand of her soft hair behind her ear.

“use your words” She grabs your wrist to stop you from guiding her fingers.

“I need you ell’s, your fingers, your tongue” you huff out.

Ellie smirks, dipping her head in between your thighs, making you subconsciously spread. Her lips grazing the inside of your thighs, kissing them occasionally before she spreads you wider with her fingers emitting a light sigh from you.

As her tongue makes contact with your clit, she skill fully flicks as if shes done this a hundred times before which…wouldnt be too far off (you dont hope). Your hips buckle as she increases the pressure of her tongue on your swollen clit, the darkened car filled with the noise of your wetness and your moans.

Before you knew it, she was inside of you. Increasing the speed. “Taking me so well, hm baby? Such a good girl” .

CBA FINISHING

[the-most-faithful]

The other day I published an edit what if Lily had chosen Snape without war, (you can find it here if you want to see it) which the two have a child. Now among the various comments the classic Marauder Stan who tries to throw mud at Snape has obviously popped up, let's analyze the points touched, because they could be interesting

Obviously we start from a classic, they try to pass off Snape as a homicidal madman who wanted all non-magic people to die, we know full well that it's not true. He joined the Death Eaters it's true but he didn't really want to kill all the non-wizards. Having established this, let's move on to the slur

If you've been following me for a while you know that I find it quite problematic to associate Death Eaters with Nazis, I understand the meaning but it's a delicate topic, so sorry if I'll use the term classists instead, but it seems more respectful to me.

Now the fact that Snape apologized for the only insult ever directed at Lily can't be denied, it's canon, so what do the Marauders Stan? Well they obviously gloss over "yes he apologized BUT THEN he joined the Death Eaters" and excuse the frankness, but thank fu*k, despite having apologized he was dumped by the only friend he had in the canon and the guys who should have represented the good have continued to bully him for years. It's not like Snape had many choices. Let's reiterate the obvious: Snape was wrong to join the Death Eaters, what he suffered is NOT an excuse, we are just repeating the reasons for his actions. Understanding is different from justifying.

Honestly I'm missing the logical leap here. How does the fact that I pointed out that the Marauders never apologized for their actions, unlike Snape, lead to the conclusion that James and Sirius' heavy bullying equals a classist group of Death Eaters? Really, it escapes me.

So I corrected, saying that bullying is always wrong, it doesn't matter if the victim is a bad person, it's still bullying. And I thought we had at least reached a meeting point, they are all wrong, James and Sirius are wrong like Snape. Well not really since Snape was the victim, but hey if it can't get any better I can accept it, let's pretend they're on the same level. But no, the Marauders Stan always try to make Snape look worse than he is, so he magically becomes worse because when he grows up (in the future) he will treat his students badly. Clear isn't it? Future faults are why the bullying was less severe, which really makes sense. (BIG Face Palm)

They were all bad people, can we accept this? Obviously not, because Marauders Stan always have to defend their pupils, even going so far as to invent things. It starts to get comical how they want to distort the canon. The Marauders have gone from arrogant bullies to, in their imagination, vigilantes who defend others and attack bad guys. It's a shame that the bad guys who attack the weakest are actually them. You also notice how inconsistent they are, they admit that they were bullies BUT they try to justify them. Snape joined the Death Eaters after school so the Marauders bullied him from first year. The sense? Do you see it? Is it under the carpet by any chance? But by the same "logic" of this person the fact that Snape will join the classist group in the future justifies the Marauders bullying Snape.

Of course, Snape was bad since he was a child because... well we don't know why, they never explaine this. So he was bad from an early age because they say so, then only when Lily was in danger did he do the right thing. Do you hear the bells too? He did the right thing. They admitted it, he did the right thing. "Yes, but only because Lily was in danger" Exactly, this is the exact definition of an antihero, he is not someone without blemish who saves people for no personal reason. Regardless, everyone in the saga has personal reasons. James, Sirius and Remus didn't join the war against Voldemort because they had nothing better to do. They couldn't stay out of it. Let's dispel this false idea. James was with Lily who was a target, could he have stayed out of the war? Obviously not. Remus was a werewolf, or he was with the Death Eaters who would have disgusted him or he was with Dumbledore who always protected him, did he really have a choice? I would say no. Sirius same thing, his family disowned him, he only had his friends and since they were in danger he joined the Order. So they all had a personal reason too, the fact that they did the right thing for this doesn't seem to create any problems to me, why does it for Snape? Usual double standard.

Here I meant future sins, but I think the meaning is understood.

In all of this, they managed to defend the Marauders by proving that they weren't bullies? Obviously not. They're just trying to attack Snape.

If there are any updates I will let you know

[alexisnotstraight]

My Chemical Romance for Blender, april 2005 by Dorian Lymskey

"We're here to fight evil"

If death rockers My Chemical Romance say they're superheroes, then who is Blender to argue? we just don't remember Spider-Man having so many problems with drink, drugs and swearing in front of kids.

One day last august, Gerard Way boarded a plane to Japan with the grawing conviction that the might not be coming back. Over the past past year, the old singer for the rock group My Chemical Romance had got it into his head that he had to be drunk to perform, and then needed Xanax to switch off his brain afterwards, and the cumbination was making him suicidally depressed. Way didn't like being suicidally depressed, so he'd often add cocaine to the mix. That's when his mood really got black. He spent the days before the flight saying goodbye to friends in New Jersey, just in case

In Japan, Way spent all his time drunk. Before the final Tokyo show, he got so trashed on Heinekens and vodka tonics that he realized, even as he was performing, that he wouldn't be a able to remember anything about it the next day. After he came off stage he spent half an hour throwing up in a garbage can, until there was nothing coming up except bile. Tonight, be thought to himself, his hair caked with womit, I've drunk my last drink.

"It was a vicious circle," he says matter-of-factly. "I needed it to function but it made me want to kill myself. It made me extremely unpredictable and dangerous to myself. I didn't want it to get to the point where it became like a VHi Behind the Music where they show this seally had picture of me 30 pounds overweight, throwing up on the floor in Berlin. I didn't want that to happen to this band".

Way's cold-turkey fight back to the band's home of Belleville. New Jersey, was escruciating-almost 7.000 miles of skin-crawling, sweat-soaked willies. "I got really emotional outside the airport when we landed. I didn't know if I was going to see these guys again." He went straight to his therapist and booked into Alcoholics Anonymous, knowing that in the same week My Chemical Romance had to replace their drummer, fiim a video and start their tour. And you thought you'd had a hard week at work.

"We got through the hard shit," says Way. "This is the easy part".

Any fears last summer that My Chemical Romance were going to implode into obscurity were knocked flat by their swaggering teen-dysfunction anthem "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)."

Inspired by the high school experiences of Way and his friends, it delivers angst-rock verities with a knowing wink, not to mention the kind of melody that ignites careers. The tongue-in-cheek video, filmed in the same L.A. high school as Donnie Darko, depicted MCR as proudly geeky misfits. It was a role that didn't require much rehearsal.

Way calls My Chemical Romance's music "death rock." Others have tagged it goth punk or emo. Some endearing individuals have overcome genre confusion by simply calling MCR faggots. "Our guitarist Frank met somebody who said, 'How do you feel when people stop liking your band because they find out you're gay?" says Way, curling his lip with pointed amusement.

To the more meat-headed members of the Warped tour fraternity, some eyeliner and the occasional ambivalent lyric (in "You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison, Gerard sings "I'll kiss your lips again" to a male character) are too much to process, but Way hopes MCR can change a few minds.

"We've always tried to switch the way people think about rock bands," he says. "That [lyric] puts a dividing line between people. Are you on our side and you want to be different or are you on that side and you want to throw a football at my head?".

Only a morbid former comic-book artist from blue-collar New Jersey could have hatched a band as toughly unorthodox as My Chemical Romance. Gerard Way writes the songs with his bandmates -his bassist brother Mikey Way, guitarists Ray Toro and Frank lero, and new drummer Bob Bryar-but the vision is all his. He illustrates the record sleeves and defines their image. Recently he chose matching shirts, ties and armbands for the band to wear in the video for "Helena." taking enormous care not to resemble (a) the Hives or (b) the Nazis.

Most important, he's the one who assembled the band back in late 2001. when September 11 jolted him out of his rut as a struggling illustrator. On their 2002 debut album, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, and last year's Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, MCR yoke the thunder of punk to the black humor of Morrissey, Nick Cave and Tom Waits, and blaze with purpose.

"There are bands that are in it for the wrong reason, polluting the airwaves and filling their own pockets," Gerard growls. "Or just saying. Oh I wanna be a rockstar. Right. You've got a lot of kids following you. What are you saying to them?"

So what are MCR saying?

He's ready for this one. "We're saying it's OK to be messed up. There's other people just like you. And if we stick together we'll get through this."

When Gerard was still working in comic books, his favorite creation was The Amazing Goffo Brothers, Piano Movers Extraordinaire. A black comedy set in a creepy, anonymous city, it was a metaphor for the relationship between him and his younger brother, Mikey.

Despite their age difference (Gerard is 27: Mikey is 24), the Way brothers wore matching outfits as children. Today, the Ways arrive at a Midtown Manhattan restaurant wearing identical black jackets, but that's the only visible similarity.

With his blood-red tie, ink-black hair and snow-pale skin, Gerard looks part Jack White, part Edward Scissorhands, and sounds as if he's been hanging out at the Bada Bing! club. His stick-thin sibling, meanwhile, wears oblong-framed glasses and the kind of candy-striped wool hat favored by fourth-graders and fashion stylists. He has the most extraordinary laugh: a shrill, girlish giggle that causes waiters to turn their heads.

They grew up in the predominantly Italian-American town of Belleville, in Sopranos country the Pizzaland restaurant glimpsed in the show's opening credits is a few blocks from the house they still live in with their auto-mechanic dad and hairdresser mom. In Jersey, says Gerard, "There's a 99% chance you're not going to do anything with your life." Mikey yelps with pretend outrage.

"Well, 90%, maybe," his brother concedes in a deadpan drawl. "Every time I come back to Jersey, it's ready to put its tentacles all over me and suck me right back in. If I'm home for more than three weeks. I forget I'm in a band. I start to fill out applications for supermarkets."

Is there anything good about the Garden State?

"I think it gives you a bleak outlook on life, which is awesome," says Mikey, cackling. "It gives you an edge. When you're from Jersey, people act like you're from Rikers.

Gerard nods. "Sometimes all we have to do is get up there, make some feedback and say, 'Yeah we're from Noo Joisey,' and then hit 'em like a bomb. People are like, 'Hey, I don't want to get beat up!"

After high school, Gerard studied art and Mikey drifted his way through college: "I thought college was a place you went to find people to be in a band with." Sometimes they played in bands together, but Gerard was more committed to becoming an artist, which was proving to be a disheartening process. When he eventually quit, his big project was a magic cartoon chimp called Breakfast Monkey. "I was doing bullshit," he shrugs.

After September 11, Gerard wrote his first song. "Skylines and Turnstiles," and played it to an old friend, drummer Matt Pelissier. Pelissier knew a guitarist called Ray Toro. "They played me their one song and I was jumping around the attic and headbanging," says Toro, a genial, frizzy- haired film buff with a caricature of Alfred Hitchcock tattooed on his left arm.

"Gerard sounded really sincere about wanting to start something real. That's what made me excited."

The members of My Chemical Romance aren't especially weird-it's not like any of them collect skulls or serial killer memorabilia-but they all grew up with reasons to feel like outsiders.

Toro was a shy kid with an overprotective mother. Instead of going out with friends, he'd stay at home playing guitar to Jimi Hendrix or Metallica. Guitarist Frank lero suffered from bronchitis and ear infections and was ill almost constantly until the fifth grade. He was raised by his mom after she split from his dad, a musician who worked on records by John Lennon and Kiss. "I'm in the family music industry," he says. "My dad would ask me how school was, but mostly it was, 'When are you going to start playing?".

Jazz-trained drummer Bob Bryar was an Illinois kid "who took apart radios and stuff and then tried to put them back together and realized they didn't work." He has a dark sense of humor that can sometimes come off as surliness. "I get these urges to fuck off sometimes," he says. "I find it hard to entertain myself."

Bryar befriended the rest of the band in 2003, when he was a soundman for the Used, whom My Chemical Romance were supporting. When relations with Pelissier deteriorated, he stepped in. The new lineup had just two days to practice before their next tour.

"I haven't relaxed in a long time," sighs lero. "I look forward to that. I'd like to take a step back and look at some newspaper clippings."

The next morning, the sky is the color of a dirty washbowl and it's being emptied on New Jersey. Brian Schechter, My Chemical Romance's manager, taps at his cellphone as he steers his car through the damp, gray streets to pick up the Ways. We collect Mikey first.

"Did you see that MTV.com headline?" he asks, still wearing his striped hat. "MCR Aim for Smashing Pumpkins Status. It was out of context, but it's OK makes people think it's possible."

The band's destination is Philadelphia's Theatre of Living Arts. A local radio station held a competition between high schools to raise the most food for homeless shelters, the prize being an exclusive My Chemical Romance show. Considering the audience will be as young as 13. some adjustments need to be made. "We should probably have a PG show tonight," says Schechter. "We didn't do a show for charity just for Gerard to call them a bunch of motherfuckers."

It's a forlorn hope. "Put your fucking hands together!" cries Gerard within minutes of stepping onstage. In a black-velvet suit, red tie and black armband, he struts across the stage, wagging his finger to the lyrics or spraying mouthfuls of water over the front rows, while his band compress punk, metal, goth and glam into furiously concise pop songs. When he introduces "Headfirst for Halos" as "a song about suicide," you can almost feel the ripples of concern from the adult chaperones lurking around the edges of the room. However, even they can't resist tapping a toe to "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)." Last night MCR played it on The Late Show With David Letterman. Tonight they're playing it to a couple hundred Philadelphia high school kids. Letterman was a highlight of their career to date, but it's here that the song makes most sense.

"I didn't do my usual thing, where I compare high school to prison," protests Gerard later, sucking on a cigarette in a dimly lit backstage office. He admits he can see how people might get the wrong idea about MCR. "Journalists usually portray us as a fucked-up, dark, vampire. alcoholic rock band. Until they meet us."

Although he's got the charisma and the goth pinup looks to be an angst-rock martyr, Gerard seems too grounded to play the feel-my-pain card. Maybe it's the Jersey in him. Even when he talks about his therapist (a "rad guy" who turned him on to Brian Eno), he's pragmatic.

"If you're in this band, you're in it for the right reasons," Gerard declares. "You're not in it for money or fame. You're in it to do some good. Becoming more popular, it's like people are granting us superpowers and we have to use them to fight evil."

Is that the comic books talking?

"Oh yeah," he says, his grin a pearly sliver in the gloom. "We're like the Doom Patrol."

[cosmicalily]

things my family (and friends) have said irl as things skz would say

tagging @hannahhbahng since harper was a lil excited about the last one !!!

chris:

"i'm unpredictable. i'm dangerous. i just put on my indicators and went straight."

"aw, thank you, you saved me a spot while i was busy rolling my ankle!"

"and while you finish that off im gonna draw some faces on eggs. because i’m an adult and i can."

"break your mate's hand...assert dominance...actually make sure they have medical insurance first."

*standing in the doorway* "i AM outside. i can feel the wind in my...beanie."

minho:

"if someone hits you, kill their mother."

"yeah, yeah, you don't wear sunscreen bc it makes you feel gross, y what'll feel grosser? chEMOTHERAPY, DUMB BITCH!"

"no offence? there is a fence! i have so many fences, i have a whole ass yard."

"c'mon now you've been through sexual education, you know how these things happen."

"you're not putting on your jumper right. you're meant to like, suffocate three times during the process, it's just sliding on nicely."

"i am jamie oliver reincarnated- oh wait he's not dead yet."

changbin:

"the rabbits eat the carrots and then the carrots eat the...oh wait that doesn't work."

"i'm sorry about my language but...it's fricking lit."

"do you mind if i eat my peanuts?"

"my goodness your hydrangeas are looking SMASHING!"

"is 'flamboyant' a good word to use?"

"those are the beaniest beans i've ever beaned."

hyunjin:

"i said bless you twice. i'm not saying it again."

"they're RECYCLED pants. they're made from crushing OLD PANTS, and turning them into NEW PANTS."

"i'm going to grammar my essay. full stop, full stop...talky marks, another full stop."

"no, because i am an inconsistent queen."

"well it is study skills, you're skilling your studies, studying your skills."

"pft, well, someone owns the moon!"

jisung:

"i sat in the freezer once for like 10 minutes and it was SO COLD."

"and maybe that's just my excessive people pleasing wait does your ear cuff go all the way around okay good."

"and so i tried talking to...i'm about to fall asleep."

"woah...trauma jokes are DEEP."

“eueOEHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! cancelcancelcancelcancelcancel.”

"living that pre-christian lifestyle!"

"you give a fish a man a day, that day, a man a live."

felix:

"you look very nice and golden. like a nice toasted waffle."

"no don't swear! the frog i'm playing in crossy road might be very young."

"I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING WAS FINE STUPID DUOLINGO MAN!"

"no we have to do it prehistorically."

"maybe i identify as a salamander."

"i don't think that's possible, i'm a morning person."

seungmin:

"it's not cheating, it's psychological consultation."

"in the nicest possible way, you look like a white rapper."

"no, i'm not writing CHAPTER THE THIRD, dumbass."

"thanks for the gift but my birthday was like four months ago and this is a library book."

"that never would've happened if you had SAFER CHAIR ETIQUETTE."

"that's like saying oh you have 5mins to answer this questioHA NEVERMIND!"

"MWAHAHAAHA my rat is coming along!"

jeongin:

"they're being PRODUCTED!"

"pretty sure he practices snoring."

"yeah, you love me. but not like that. no homo."

“HOW CAN YOU COMPARE SOMEONE TO A USELESS ORGAN THAT NOBODY LIKES BECAUSE IT EXPLODES?”

"if i just use really descriptive words...anne. frank. died. badly. anne frank died badly by death which is sad because she died by death."

[the-nosy-neighbor]

More on Frankenstein and Scarecrow

Extension of the Frankenstein reference—In the original post, I compared and contrasted Eddie’s two Halloween costumes, Frankenstein’s monster and Scarecrow.  I was talking about The Wizard of Oz’s Scarecrow character, snd saying who would be/play what character and I mentioned that if we were casting Wizard of Oz with Welcome Home characters, that Frank would be the Tin Man. 

I found this really interesting, because when I was reading about the book, the Tin Man is called the Tin Woodsman.  His name is Nick Chopper.  He is made of spare parts, just like Frankenstein.  I say spare, but parts.  It is mentioned that the Tin Woodsman had parts of his body replaced as needed, and he ended up being tin, but he hasn’t died.  He still has all the thoughts and feelings of the Tin Woodsman, which true to the movie, has a big heart, AND is so kind that he is sad about stepping on a bug, and in a later book in the series, refuses to do a certain spell because it involves killing a BUTTERFLY.  (There is a scene with the monster and a butterfly in Young Frankenstein, but I’m not sure that it is canon in the regular version.  But the intention of that scene is to show that he’s not a dangerous man, just clumsy, as he doesn’t hurt the butterfly.)  Though I did read that part of his job on the whole yellow brick road odyssey was killing animals that attacked them.  With his ax.

So, if Frank is a counterpart to the Tin Man, he is a protector of the group, able to kill when necessary, yet very considerate of all life.  I think it lends credence to the idea that he is the one that is going to have to take characters out in such a way that they seem dead, but aren’t.

Based on an internet search, which you can’t trust these days, Frankenstein’s monster doesn’t have the memories of his brain’s previous life.  So not new parts, but a new creature.  The Tin Woodsman is made of all new parts, but remains the same man. 

This brings up a particularly horrifying idea:  will Eddie remember Frank after he is reassembled?  Is part of the sadness of that song because we would be getting a new version of Eddie (one that doesn't love Frank)?  You can disassemble the puppet, but is there anything in particular that holds their memories or makes them themselves?

If Frank is the tin man, shown in that one image surrounded by all the spare parts, what will become of him?  He says “where all that’s left is me.”  Next, I will look at a song another fan pointed out to me (in the comments on the Bug-A-Bye post).  Sorry these are so long; I appreciate people sticking it out to the end.