#it would NOT have worked so well if izzy weren't so tightly wound he was about to pop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetardigrape · 2 years

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Most of my meta so far has dealt with Ed and Stede. As it should, they're the stars of OFMD.

But now I wanna talk about Lucius and Izzy. Because I've been dying over "Have you ever been sketched" for weeks and I need to talk about it. This is less of a meta and more of me just picking this scene apart because I love it so much.

The scene starts with Izzy naming a long list of chores Lucius will have to do. At this point, Lucius knows about Izzy the Spewer. He knows Izzy doesn't actually have the authority to make him do anything, and he knows a secret that Izzy definitely doesn't want spread around. So with his response to Izzy's demand that he does these chores, Lucius readies for his first blow.

Lucius has already used this line before. Crucially, back in the galley, he had nothing else to use against Izzy, and Izzy won that fight. But now, Lucius is armed. And Izzy's about to give him yet another weapon.

Izzy makes two mistakes here. First, he steps into Lucius's space. He's trying to use this as an intimidation tactic, and it might have almost worked, if not for his second mistake. He drops his gaze to Lucius's mouth. At this point, Lucius knows he's won.

Lucius purses his lips to the side and then licks them. Now he's just toying with Izzy. He goes on to shatter Izzy's offense, telling Pete himself that he drew Fang naked. Pete has a totally positive reaction, backing Lucius up. So Lucius counterattacks. He deploys the weapon Fang gave him.

Lucius has won the fight, no question. You can see it in the way Izzy's smirk falls. But this is just a single battle. Lucius means to win the war. He makes it so that Izzy will never try this shit again. He goes for the killing blow.

He was able to put together Izzy's "oo daddy" nonsense in the galley plus the way he kept stepping into Lucius's personal space plus that slightly-too-lingering look he gave Lucius's mouth and came up with the truth: Lucius wields a sexual power that they both know will break Izzy completely.

And it works! It works perfectly! Izzy never goes after him again, never calls him names or assigns him chores. Even when Blackbeard asks for Lucius specifically, Izzy refuses to look him in the eye to deliver the message.

The incredible power of Lucius's blatant sexuality. I love it. I just love it. This man uses gay as a weapon and he wins. Good for him. Good for him.

#it would NOT have worked so well if izzy weren't so tightly wound he was about to pop #nor if izzy were just accepting of his own and other people's sexuality #but he is how he is and lucius sees right through him #yes this DID provide the basis for an entire fic series i wrote #what of it #lucius spriggs #izzy hands #ofmd #our flag means death

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niksixx · 4 years

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Patience

~Welcome to Part 1 of yet another Axl Rose mini series. Since this is merely fanfiction, there will obviously be inaccuracies and things I changed around just because I can hehe. I hope you enjoy! This particular piece was inspired by the GNR song, Patience~

Pairing: Axl Rose/Vince Neil x Female Reader

A/N: R E B L O G AND C O M M E N T

*Picture is not mine; Found on Google. Creds to the owner*

P.S. I have a strong feeling this fic is going to tug on your heart strings.

Tag list: @littlemisscare-all @ginny-baker-sixx @metalheartofgold @madamsixx @curly-hudson

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As a little girl, you were drawn to the little boy who sat on the playground bench alone, head down, hair shielding his eyes, hiding from the world around him. Each day, he was there. Each day, he had fresh tears in his eyes. And each day, he silently prayed for a friend.

The little boy’s prayers were answered the day you skipped over to him, placing yourself in front of him, rocking back and forth on the balls and heels of your feet as your yellow tutu swayed with the soft breeze. You waited for the boy to look up at you and when he did, you smiled, wanting to comfort him.

“Hi there! I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”

His voice was soft, hesitant, like a scared mouse. “Axl.”

“Axl. That’s nice. I like it!” You exclaimed, taking a seat beside him on the bench. Little Axl slid over to give you room, keeping his eyes on the ground. What is she doing? He wondered.

“How old are you?”

“Eight,” Axl said gently, holding up four digits on one hand, four digits on the other. “How old are you?”

“I’m ten!” You answered proudly, swinging your legs. Axl still hadn’t looked up from the ground. “Can I ask you a question?”

Axl nodded, lifting his head just a bit to brush the hair from his eyes. His eyelashes were long and thick, and tiny red freckles dotted the bridge of his nose, down his plump cheeks. “If you want.”

“How come you’re all alone?”

His eyes flickered to the three older boys on the swingset, two blond twins and a brunette friend. They were known for bullying other children off the playground. All Axl wanted to do was play with them. Be friends with them. Why did they have to be so mean? “Those boys,” he points in their direction with a shaky finger, “They were teasing me. I just wanted to be their friend.”

You followed his finger, frowning as the three boys laughed obnoxiously. You recognized them. They looked around your age. “What were they teasing you about?”

Axl shrugged, picking at his fingernails. Why were you so curious? He wasn’t used to anyone caring about him. “They made fun of my hair, my clothes, my teeth. They said I was ugly and that no one would want to be friends with me. And then they pushed me. That’s how I scraped my elbow,” He says, showing off his battle wound proudly. He hadn’t even cried today when they shoved him down.

Standing up, you placed your little hands on your hips, eyebrows scrunched together. Again, you waited for him to look at you. It took him a while, but when he finally looked up at you, with sadness swirling in his eyes, you pulled him off the bench and in the direction of the three boys.

“What are you doing?!” He asked quietly, but harshly. “Y/N!”

You ignored him, focusing on the boys. They needed to be taught a lesson, seeing as their parents had never taught them how to play nice with other children. It was a good thing your parents encouraged you to hit back if a boy ever started the fight. What did your parents call it again? Self defense?

As you approached, they snickered and stood from their respective swings, forming a line, a barrier, to the swingset. Without a second thought, you pushed the one you assumed to be the ringleader.

“Hey! What was that for?” He asked, shooting you a dirty look. His friends helped him to his feet, brushing dirt from the back of his knees. “That wasn't very nice of you.”

“Then why did you do it to my friend?” You challenged, motioning to Axl beside you. As the three boys looked his way, he stepped closer to you, cowering. “I heard you were teasing him. Teasing isn’t nice. So leave him alone!”

“What are you going to do about it?” The second boy asked. As you stepped toward him, he backed up, eyes wide. He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Fine.”

“Now say you’re sorry,” you instructed, staring each one in the eye. Wrapping an arm around Axl’s shoulders, he relaxed under your touch. He was glad to have you there. Somehow, in a fluffy yellow tutu, a bright pink shirt, and puke green shoes, you intimated the three boys. And you’d come to his defense like a true friend would.

The boys gave each other a look before mumbling an apology. Not wanting to start more drama, they slinked off to the other side of the playground, leaving the swingset empty.

Turning to Axl, your heart softened at the formation of a smile on his face. His body wasn’t so tense anymore. “Want to swing with me?”

He nodded, and you sat next to each other on the swingset, swinging gently and laughing at all the random, silly things little kids laugh at.

“Thank you,” Axl whispered. He was still a bit shy around you, but he managed to look you in the eye once more. “For being my friend.”

You reached out to grab his clammy hand in your own, squeezing it tightly as if you were afraid he’d let go. “We’re going to be friends forever. I won’t let anyone be mean to you. Okay?”

“Promise?” Axl asked, searching for reassurance.

You nodded. “I promise.”

~~~

You had kept the promise for a while. Throughout your teenage years, you acted as Axl’s protector, his guardian angel, the keeper of his childhood troubles and darkest secrets. In school, everyone knew. No one dared to mess with him while you were around. And if they did, you had no problem putting them in their place. You’d done it many times before.

Slowly, Axl’s shell disappeared. He started to talk a bit more, about the abuse he’d suffered at the hand of his stepfather. He found friends of his own, and began to smile more often, which was a sight that melted your heart. He’d answer questions in class and even joined the choir, a place where he truly felt like he belonged. Being in the choir drove him to carry around a tiny blue book, where he’d write down his inner thoughts that he would later go on to develop as lyrics for songs performed by his band, Guns N’ Roses, with his four best friends, Izzy, Duff, Steven, and Slash. Thanks to you, there was a light in his usually dull gray eyes.

And, thanks to you, Axl began to feel things he'd never felt before. At sixteen years old, he started paying more attention to your feelings, whether you were happy, sad, angry, joyful. He would always find excuses to look at you, be around you, put a smile on your face. You infiltrated his thoughts, sometimes in more than a friendly way, and his heart would race whenever you were near him. To make sense of his thoughts, his feelings, he’d write them in his book. The moment Axl realized he was foolishly in love with you was when he found himself writing songs about you.

But he’d never shown you any of the songs, afraid of what you might think of him when you understood the songs were for you. By the time Axl turned eighteen, your friendship began to dwindle. You were twenty years old with no set plans for the future. A wandering soul. A free-spirit. Traveling the world was the only thing on your mind. Axl accompanied you to the airport the morning you planned to leave your old town behind, savoring the feeling of your body wrapped in his arms, before sending you off to start your journey in Los Angeles, California. LA was supposed to be the start of your adventure, but you quickly fell in love with the city, and never stepped foot anywhere else.

And the minute you left is when the bullying started back up again. Only this time though, Axl let the words roll off his shoulders. He adopted a new wardrobe filled with leather jackets, leather pants, hats, and bandanas, hoping his new appearance would keep others away and make them nervous to be around him. When that didn’t work, Axl eventually began to fight back. There was no one to protect him anymore. He had to stand up and do it for himself.

In his early twenties, Axl found himself living in West Hollywood, making friends with the wrong crowd, dropping hundreds of dollars on tattoos every two weeks, and trying his best to avoid jail time. He became somewhat of a rebel, a delinquent, like the biological father he barely remembered, snorting cocaine, not loving it, and then sticking with cigarettes. Instead of shying away from trouble, Axl went looking for it.

The formation of Guns N’ Roses changed everything, kept him grounded. While his time had been spent causing trouble and fighting officers, it was now taken over completely by managing a rock band. He still smoked every now and again, but he’d completely quit the hard drugs and bitter alcohol. Playing gigs, writing lyrics, and touring the world with his bandmates was all he needed. It gave him a purpose. It made him happy.

But, like every rockstar does, Axl made a few enemies on his climb to fame. He’d been in a few bar fights with none other than Skid Row’s lead bass guitarist, Rachel Bolan. Words were exchanged with Stephen Pearcy of Ratt, and he and Poison singer Bret Michaels did not get along. At all.

Now, in his mid twenties, Axl was able to let go of the grudges he’d held. Well, almost all of them. In the music world, it was normal for lead singers of different bands to have bad blood, which is exactly what Axl Rose had with Vince Neil, lead singer, or screecher, as Axl called him, of Mötley Crüe.

Axl couldn’t stand the guy, and for good reasons. Vince was stuck up, conceited, a hotshot. He was always drunk it seemed, unable to hold his liquor. Plus, his vocals weren't even that great. He had no business being as arrogant as he was.

Although Axl and Vince had never been in a physical altercation, (yet) the hatred was mutual between the two singers. The media were constantly pitting them against each other, and instead of fighting it together, they bashed and bad-mouthed each other.

What Axl and the rest of the world wasn’t aware of was your romantic relationship with Vince. Your relationship was purposely kept hidden away from the media, away from the fans. Vince never mentioned you in interviews, nor would he have you on his arm at award ceremonies. And for a while, you understood. The label needed Vince to keep up the bad boy, bachelor image. They were convinced it would generate more attention for the band as a whole. But there were days that you wished Vince would come out to the world and show you off like you, and Mick Mars, his bandmate, believed you deserved.

Of course, Axl didn’t know anything about your current life, your struggles, but that didn’t mean he never tried. He searched everywhere for you, from West Hollywood to Malibu and even Beverly Hills, but after almost a year of searching, he’d finally given up. You’d been away from him for too long. Did you have a job? A family? Where were you living? The last time he had spoken to you was more than seven years ago when he watched you board the plane headed for LA.

Though it’s been years since he’s seen you, his feelings never dissolved. If you were indeed off the market in a happy, loving relationship, then no, Axl wouldn’t dare try and sabotage your relationship, but he had to find a way to show you how much he loved you. What he needed was just a little bit of patience, and all of the pieces would fall into place.

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