Post by Slinky on Dec 27, 2008 6:20:03 GMT -5
(( Hey guys!! I reallyreally need your help, m'kay? I'm giving these two stories to my bestest friend in like, the universe and I sorta need to bounce them off you.
It'll take like... ten minutes to read them both, and I can only ask you guys cuz your all pro writers and you know how it feels to give your writing to someone who doesn't write and can easily judge you by it etc
Even a- it sucks don't give it to her- will be sweet. Then I know I'm doing something wrong! : DD
Anyway. This writing style is totally new for me ( and for those who are familair with my writing ) and I've taken out all the little italics and stuff so it's just the raw copy
Oh. And my past and presents tense is pretty much all over the show( this IS three o'clock in the morning writing ) I'd love help with correcting it XD ))
Title Lighter
Rating R-16 for excessive swearing and me being a closet pervert
Category Xmen ( movieverse )
Author’s Note This idea refused to leave until it forced me out a bed and type it up. Three o’clock in the morning writing ftw X3;; John’s and Bobby’s relationship is a kind of platonic to myself and my bestest’s ( um, not so dramatic, mind XD ) which I tried to put across here
Disclaimer Hm. Not mine XD funny that
Dedication
To Moo. Kind, wonderful, supportive, BFFE friend. This is very over due
John is glaring so hard at Scott, most of the class is surprised he hasn’t spontaneously combusted yet. Most of them are shuffling nervously about in their seats anyway. However this doesn’t seem to faze Scott, who continues diligently on with the lesson.
John thinks about disembowelment, and really that’s not enough.
Finally-
“John is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
“I’d rather be bent over a desk and spanked raw-“ Scott chokes, Bobby snorts, and the class really shifts this time. “-than be put under this kind of torture.”
He thinks more about... hm. Explosions. Something big and on the fiery side. Annoyingly, Scott still doesn’t give him what he wants. Something inside him starts to itch very, very badly. He has to get up, to settle his fraying nerves. The class is really not surprised at all by this. John does this on a daily basis. So out the door he goes before Scott can call him back.
The pyromaniac’s no more than half way down the corridor before he feels a presence of somebody behind him. No surprises it’s Bobby. His best friend in, like, ever. Sweet, kind Bobby, who always knows when to press into his personal space, and never to really back the fuck off. And, really, he can do that, and be the only person on Gods earth who won’t get third degree burns. Bobby’s the kind of person he’d never dream of hurting, because he knows him the best. Actually knows him, unlike everyone else who thinks he’s an unstable, selfish bastard- “Get the hell away from me!” like he knows that each time John gets a little snarky whenever someone takes his lighter. And Bobby- totally disregards the ‘bubble theory’. He puts an arm round John’s shoulders, giving comfort to his bestest because he knows what it’s like when somebody rips out a part of your soul. And John wants to push him away and bite his fingers off. Or something.
“Someone needs snuggles,” and yeah. Okay.
“Back the fuck off- and you so didn’t say ‘snuggles’ you pussy,” John fails to keep the poker face up for too much longer, and it feels like Bobby is pressing his nose behind his ear. Cold nose. Iceman. John hates the cold. But it’s not so bad if its Bobby making him shiver.
“Hm. I can’t believe you said that to Scott,” Bobby laughs, giving his space back. Neither can he actually. All because his light- fuck. Lighter. He needs it. Right now.
He makes a greedy little hand motion to Bobby, who just snorts. “Man, I don’t smoke.”
“Dude, you have my back up lighter,” like, right this minute. “Fuck, I need-“
“To jerk off-”
-to be distracted. He doesn’t want to come out of the gutter right now. He has a second home here. “You wish.”
“You can’t afford-”
Focus focus. Hold on. That didn’t make any sens- focus.
A fire place? Maybe. Hm. It’s summer. Damn. He had –key work had- five lighters. One Jean has. One Hank has. Scott now has three. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Scott probably would hit him if he came crawling back. But really John would never crawl, let alone beg for his lighter. Well. Maybe. He feels a little desperate now.
“That was your back up lighter. Or. Backupbackup? Scott could start a garage sale with all your stuff. Anyway the Professor confiscates pretty much every lighter in this place. Smoking is a nono,” Bobby explains for the hundredth time. John tends to forget this every time this happens.
“Ice me,” John goes for the next best thing. He needs something. Something to get him off even if it’s only slightly. His right hand is for his lighter. His left is for pretty much everything else. It’s cover in thick calluses, and scorch marks. Seeing the fire just isn’t just enough. John has to fucking get his hands right in and feel. Some people cut themselves. John burns himself.
But, you know. It’s not like he’s depressed, or anything. John doesn’t really like that word. Too many kids... toss it. People- mutants especially- at some stage or another feel like this. Like the worlds just a little too big.
The hand is the best place. Bobby takes it, and ices the tips of his fingers. Fingers feel everything. Most sensitive part of the body. Or one of them. And ice- cold enough to burn. It’s not the same. But enough. Enough for him to rock and snarl- “Fuck yes.” Like Bobby’s blowing him and not just icing him.
It’s something he can’t explain. The fire is a part of him, like Warren’s wings, or Logan’s claws. Whenever it get’s take away, it feels like both his legs are missing. Fire makes him feel like he actual exists. Even for a second. Burning his hair and skin make him real. He needs it like sex.
And the ice- really really doesn’t do it for him. It melts all too soon, and leaves John feeling wet. Hn. Like Bobby really isn’t living up to how much he paid for him for a one night thing. He should probably stop using these kinds of metaphors now. It makes the hunger worse.
“Hmm, Logan,” he says around one finger, trying to get it back to room temperature. Logan smokes. Logan has a lighter. Logan is now his new God. Finding Logan is easy. He’s out in the mother of all garages, with so many cars, ships, parts, engines, tools and benches that any pure blooded male could have an orgasm just from looking.
The mutant himself is-heh- playing around with Scott’s motorcycle. One of these days the Professor will give him his own. Or watch Scott really give Logan a permanent injury. John likes the latter. But really he doesn’t want to think about that now. Lighter. Focus.
“Skipping out of stick-up-his-arse-Summers class again?” Logan asks, bent over the beast and fiddling around under the seat. John would probably ask what he’s doing. Hell. Ask if he could help. Not today.
“I need a light,” he demands, all but frothing at the mouth. Logan gives him that pity look. Hate hate hate.
“Got your lighter taken off you again, firebug?” Logan’s really the only person who uses the pet name. John doesn’t mind. Apart from right now. The hungry, greedy look must be back in his dark eyes, because Logan get’s to the point. “Don’t got one. Chuck melted it when I took a drag in the kitchen.”
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Bobby looks like he’s worried that maybe John will sprout claws and take off Logan’s face.
This is the one thing John knows that Bobby just doesn’t... get. He reads him like a book. Can repair damage that’s been caused. But doesn’t understand this. He can see it on Bobby’s lips. The- ‘It’s just a lighter’ statement. Bobby- jeez- he has powers. John just has cheap knock off powers. He manipulates fire. He isn’t fire itself, unlike Bobby. Bobby can become an ‘Iceman’. John- John can manipulate fire around his body to make it look like he’s a ‘Fireman’, but if he doesn’t stop in thirty seconds he’ll burn up. Sometimes he kind of wants to burn up. Poof.
Nobody would miss him. A street punk. No mother, father kicked him out. Hardly fits in The School of Mutants in the first place. What if one day he just... disappeared?
He says this all to Bobby, as they sit in the grounds, as John twitches, itches and fucking needs. He knows he can always just- talk, to Bobby. Because he’d never been like this growing up. Didn’t have that closeness or an open side with his family. It was just him. Keeping himself company. Hardly spoke. Fuck. The first time it felt awkward confessing to Bobby. But he’s a good listener. Sweet, good Bobby, who probably doesn’t want a royal screw up like him as a friend anyway. And. Bobby doesn’t hit him, or yell at him for even thinking like that, as any other person would. He just- pet’s his blonde streaked hair, and fucking understands.
He says maybe not the right things ( because when is something ever right? ) but does the right actions. And John get’s it. Really get’s it.
Sometimes, he feels like he shouldn’t have Bobby as a friend. He’s to... good. To innocent and pure. Unlike him, who’s rotten to the core. Well. Not to innocent. John’s done a pretty god job of ruining some of he’s innocence. Maybe one day he’ll actually tell Bobby how much he means to him. But not now. Because Bobby is taking something out of his pocket.
A lighter
“Motherfuck! Bobby,” John screeches, slamming into Booby, scratching up his wrists to get at the lighter. He makes it hard. Bobby shoves a thigh between Johns legs, and John snarls and groans at the same time. Because- shit that hurt. And was low. He grabs at his hair, feeling some tug out at the roots. Hm. Boys always fight dirty.
Bobby gives up soon, because an angry John can be a real bitch to put up with. And he can kick his arse. Lighter in hand, he lets loose a stream of fire. And it’s like his soul mate just waltz back into the room. He’s smile is so dazzling even Bobby has to check it’s still the same person. Doing this never get’s old. The flames flicker up his arm, back down to his fingers, the jolts going up his body simulating pleasure. “Fuck yeah,” it good to feel whole again.
John wonders. Bobby probably get’s jealous of the flames. Hm. He can suck that up. Three’s a crowd. As a child... he only had the fire for comfort. It felt and reminded him of how his mother used to hug. Warm and safe. Now. He has Bobby. He guesses. Being around people, especially being intimate, comes hard for him. He doesn’t realise if he’s hurt someone. He’s blunt, sarcastic, even nasty. He can’t comfort a crying person ( hm. Maybe Bobby ) or deal with dramas very well. John is... nothing Bobby is. Bobby has a way with people. People instantly like him. And John will never, ever gets this, but Bobby only makes room for John as- what? A best friend. Not Kitty, Warren, Peter or even Rogue. Him.
He’ll understand Bobby one day. Possibly.
End
It'll take like... ten minutes to read them both, and I can only ask you guys cuz your all pro writers and you know how it feels to give your writing to someone who doesn't write and can easily judge you by it etc
Even a- it sucks don't give it to her- will be sweet. Then I know I'm doing something wrong! : DD
Anyway. This writing style is totally new for me ( and for those who are familair with my writing ) and I've taken out all the little italics and stuff so it's just the raw copy
Oh. And my past and presents tense is pretty much all over the show( this IS three o'clock in the morning writing ) I'd love help with correcting it XD ))
***
Title Lighter
Rating R-16 for excessive swearing and me being a closet pervert
Category Xmen ( movieverse )
Author’s Note This idea refused to leave until it forced me out a bed and type it up. Three o’clock in the morning writing ftw X3;; John’s and Bobby’s relationship is a kind of platonic to myself and my bestest’s ( um, not so dramatic, mind XD ) which I tried to put across here
Disclaimer Hm. Not mine XD funny that
Dedication
To Moo. Kind, wonderful, supportive, BFFE friend. This is very over due
***
John is glaring so hard at Scott, most of the class is surprised he hasn’t spontaneously combusted yet. Most of them are shuffling nervously about in their seats anyway. However this doesn’t seem to faze Scott, who continues diligently on with the lesson.
John thinks about disembowelment, and really that’s not enough.
Finally-
“John is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
“I’d rather be bent over a desk and spanked raw-“ Scott chokes, Bobby snorts, and the class really shifts this time. “-than be put under this kind of torture.”
He thinks more about... hm. Explosions. Something big and on the fiery side. Annoyingly, Scott still doesn’t give him what he wants. Something inside him starts to itch very, very badly. He has to get up, to settle his fraying nerves. The class is really not surprised at all by this. John does this on a daily basis. So out the door he goes before Scott can call him back.
The pyromaniac’s no more than half way down the corridor before he feels a presence of somebody behind him. No surprises it’s Bobby. His best friend in, like, ever. Sweet, kind Bobby, who always knows when to press into his personal space, and never to really back the fuck off. And, really, he can do that, and be the only person on Gods earth who won’t get third degree burns. Bobby’s the kind of person he’d never dream of hurting, because he knows him the best. Actually knows him, unlike everyone else who thinks he’s an unstable, selfish bastard- “Get the hell away from me!” like he knows that each time John gets a little snarky whenever someone takes his lighter. And Bobby- totally disregards the ‘bubble theory’. He puts an arm round John’s shoulders, giving comfort to his bestest because he knows what it’s like when somebody rips out a part of your soul. And John wants to push him away and bite his fingers off. Or something.
“Someone needs snuggles,” and yeah. Okay.
“Back the fuck off- and you so didn’t say ‘snuggles’ you pussy,” John fails to keep the poker face up for too much longer, and it feels like Bobby is pressing his nose behind his ear. Cold nose. Iceman. John hates the cold. But it’s not so bad if its Bobby making him shiver.
“Hm. I can’t believe you said that to Scott,” Bobby laughs, giving his space back. Neither can he actually. All because his light- fuck. Lighter. He needs it. Right now.
He makes a greedy little hand motion to Bobby, who just snorts. “Man, I don’t smoke.”
“Dude, you have my back up lighter,” like, right this minute. “Fuck, I need-“
“To jerk off-”
-to be distracted. He doesn’t want to come out of the gutter right now. He has a second home here. “You wish.”
“You can’t afford-”
Focus focus. Hold on. That didn’t make any sens- focus.
A fire place? Maybe. Hm. It’s summer. Damn. He had –key work had- five lighters. One Jean has. One Hank has. Scott now has three. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Scott probably would hit him if he came crawling back. But really John would never crawl, let alone beg for his lighter. Well. Maybe. He feels a little desperate now.
“That was your back up lighter. Or. Backupbackup? Scott could start a garage sale with all your stuff. Anyway the Professor confiscates pretty much every lighter in this place. Smoking is a nono,” Bobby explains for the hundredth time. John tends to forget this every time this happens.
“Ice me,” John goes for the next best thing. He needs something. Something to get him off even if it’s only slightly. His right hand is for his lighter. His left is for pretty much everything else. It’s cover in thick calluses, and scorch marks. Seeing the fire just isn’t just enough. John has to fucking get his hands right in and feel. Some people cut themselves. John burns himself.
But, you know. It’s not like he’s depressed, or anything. John doesn’t really like that word. Too many kids... toss it. People- mutants especially- at some stage or another feel like this. Like the worlds just a little too big.
The hand is the best place. Bobby takes it, and ices the tips of his fingers. Fingers feel everything. Most sensitive part of the body. Or one of them. And ice- cold enough to burn. It’s not the same. But enough. Enough for him to rock and snarl- “Fuck yes.” Like Bobby’s blowing him and not just icing him.
It’s something he can’t explain. The fire is a part of him, like Warren’s wings, or Logan’s claws. Whenever it get’s take away, it feels like both his legs are missing. Fire makes him feel like he actual exists. Even for a second. Burning his hair and skin make him real. He needs it like sex.
And the ice- really really doesn’t do it for him. It melts all too soon, and leaves John feeling wet. Hn. Like Bobby really isn’t living up to how much he paid for him for a one night thing. He should probably stop using these kinds of metaphors now. It makes the hunger worse.
“Hmm, Logan,” he says around one finger, trying to get it back to room temperature. Logan smokes. Logan has a lighter. Logan is now his new God. Finding Logan is easy. He’s out in the mother of all garages, with so many cars, ships, parts, engines, tools and benches that any pure blooded male could have an orgasm just from looking.
The mutant himself is-heh- playing around with Scott’s motorcycle. One of these days the Professor will give him his own. Or watch Scott really give Logan a permanent injury. John likes the latter. But really he doesn’t want to think about that now. Lighter. Focus.
“Skipping out of stick-up-his-arse-Summers class again?” Logan asks, bent over the beast and fiddling around under the seat. John would probably ask what he’s doing. Hell. Ask if he could help. Not today.
“I need a light,” he demands, all but frothing at the mouth. Logan gives him that pity look. Hate hate hate.
“Got your lighter taken off you again, firebug?” Logan’s really the only person who uses the pet name. John doesn’t mind. Apart from right now. The hungry, greedy look must be back in his dark eyes, because Logan get’s to the point. “Don’t got one. Chuck melted it when I took a drag in the kitchen.”
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Bobby looks like he’s worried that maybe John will sprout claws and take off Logan’s face.
This is the one thing John knows that Bobby just doesn’t... get. He reads him like a book. Can repair damage that’s been caused. But doesn’t understand this. He can see it on Bobby’s lips. The- ‘It’s just a lighter’ statement. Bobby- jeez- he has powers. John just has cheap knock off powers. He manipulates fire. He isn’t fire itself, unlike Bobby. Bobby can become an ‘Iceman’. John- John can manipulate fire around his body to make it look like he’s a ‘Fireman’, but if he doesn’t stop in thirty seconds he’ll burn up. Sometimes he kind of wants to burn up. Poof.
Nobody would miss him. A street punk. No mother, father kicked him out. Hardly fits in The School of Mutants in the first place. What if one day he just... disappeared?
He says this all to Bobby, as they sit in the grounds, as John twitches, itches and fucking needs. He knows he can always just- talk, to Bobby. Because he’d never been like this growing up. Didn’t have that closeness or an open side with his family. It was just him. Keeping himself company. Hardly spoke. Fuck. The first time it felt awkward confessing to Bobby. But he’s a good listener. Sweet, good Bobby, who probably doesn’t want a royal screw up like him as a friend anyway. And. Bobby doesn’t hit him, or yell at him for even thinking like that, as any other person would. He just- pet’s his blonde streaked hair, and fucking understands.
He says maybe not the right things ( because when is something ever right? ) but does the right actions. And John get’s it. Really get’s it.
Sometimes, he feels like he shouldn’t have Bobby as a friend. He’s to... good. To innocent and pure. Unlike him, who’s rotten to the core. Well. Not to innocent. John’s done a pretty god job of ruining some of he’s innocence. Maybe one day he’ll actually tell Bobby how much he means to him. But not now. Because Bobby is taking something out of his pocket.
A lighter
“Motherfuck! Bobby,” John screeches, slamming into Booby, scratching up his wrists to get at the lighter. He makes it hard. Bobby shoves a thigh between Johns legs, and John snarls and groans at the same time. Because- shit that hurt. And was low. He grabs at his hair, feeling some tug out at the roots. Hm. Boys always fight dirty.
Bobby gives up soon, because an angry John can be a real bitch to put up with. And he can kick his arse. Lighter in hand, he lets loose a stream of fire. And it’s like his soul mate just waltz back into the room. He’s smile is so dazzling even Bobby has to check it’s still the same person. Doing this never get’s old. The flames flicker up his arm, back down to his fingers, the jolts going up his body simulating pleasure. “Fuck yeah,” it good to feel whole again.
John wonders. Bobby probably get’s jealous of the flames. Hm. He can suck that up. Three’s a crowd. As a child... he only had the fire for comfort. It felt and reminded him of how his mother used to hug. Warm and safe. Now. He has Bobby. He guesses. Being around people, especially being intimate, comes hard for him. He doesn’t realise if he’s hurt someone. He’s blunt, sarcastic, even nasty. He can’t comfort a crying person ( hm. Maybe Bobby ) or deal with dramas very well. John is... nothing Bobby is. Bobby has a way with people. People instantly like him. And John will never, ever gets this, but Bobby only makes room for John as- what? A best friend. Not Kitty, Warren, Peter or even Rogue. Him.
He’ll understand Bobby one day. Possibly.
***
End