#tmtheory

[yuuwaku-amor]

Magical night

@tmtheory

:･ﾟ☆✧ A broken family of an absent father too busy with business and women, and a resentful mother unable to find in herself any love for her own son, Christmas was always bundled in troubles. When he was still a child, he was, at the very least, able to ignore the spiteful comments and the sour mood, enjoying the presents in company of his brother -always smiling, always so warm and pure.

The years made him bitter. He retorted to the same things his father did -alcohol, business, women. From his teenage years, he had always spent the cursed holiday in some convoluted party or in the arms of a beautiful lady, pleasing her as best he could.

This year however, things were different. For the first time in years he was staying home. His meetings with girls had declined significantly as time passed by, and his attention was now more centered in his introverted and clumsy brother than in any charming lady crossing his path.

He would have liked to reassure him by stopping fully his contact with the beautiful females, but bad habits die hard, and they were rather determined about winning his affections -even for just a night.

Was that maybe why Mathew invited him out for the night? He wasn’t sure, but he agreed easily, content to spend some time with the other

:･ﾟ☆✧ "So, did you had any plans for tonight, or are we improvising, brother?” he mused in a light-hearted tone, fingers playing with the braid in his own hair and lips puckering up slightly in an almost childish gesture. Leaning on the door of Mathew’s room, he seemed to be sealing all escape chances from his brother.

[earthen-decay-blog]

A Winter’s Visit

@tmtheory

He’d sent someone to pick him up. Giovanni may have enjoyed the solitude of his cabin (well, cabin was likely a rather underwhelming way to describe it, as the building itself was huge,) deep in the woods and isolated on a particularly beautiful spit of land in the mountains, enjoyed the inherent ruggedness of living, even for the holidays, so far from civilization, but he wasn’t a caveman; he still had people when he needed things urgently. And Mathew just so happened to be one of the things he needed urgently.

Giovanni had invited him to spend a little time in this quaint little hideaway, wouldn’t have taken ‘no’ for an answer. Because Mathew was his friend, and obviously, this was something friends did for each other, yes? And how relaxing a snowy mountain vacation would be! Yes, obviously these were the only motivating factors for Mathew’s invitation. While one of his executives was busy chauffeuring Mathew to the cabin (disguised, of course,) Giovanni did what he could to prepare; had some grunts deliver enough groceries to last the visit, cleaned the rooms and bathrooms, made sure there was enough fuel to last the fire, and even took stock of the accessories for outdoorsy adventures. He was adamant about cutting down his own trees on the worst of years. But most of all, he spent his time meticulously planning every last step that would win him the most coveted of prizes; inviting Mathew was only the first step, after all.

[violentalpha-blog]

To hell with Christmas

@tmtheory

For someone being named after the very epicenter of Christmas, Jesus was specially unenthusiastic about the holiday. Ever since he was a child he had always spent it on his lonesome, and the images of cheerful families and couples did nothing but intensify the loneliness -and eventual anger- he felt.

Whatever feelings of wishful longing he had as a child, looking at a seemingly cheerful world through the tarnished glass of a high-class apartment with no one but himself occupying it were long gone. His teenage years had been so far an infinite repetition of him getting in troubles -bringing havoc in whichever way he could.

Today wouldn’t be any different. Hands in his pockets and his loyal doberman following after him loyally, Jesus’ eyes were those of a predator looking for his next prey. Someone to vent his angers in... someone he could beat to a pulp.

Yet pink eyes stopped half-way as he met the face of a certain professor, big glasses and reddish hair bringing attention over his person almost as much as his clumsy demeanor. Jesus was not one to often assist to class, but this own teacher was notorious enough for him to remember.

Lips tilting to a half-smirk, Jesus gave a long stride forward, easily catching up to the other. Taking advantage of the fact that he hadn’t been noticed he made a loud barking sound right besides the other ear, awaiting for a scared reaction with a haughty grin.

“Yoo, sensei. What’cha doing out here, all alone like this?”

[mathlovershugarl]

"Date" MathewShugarl

Send me ‘ Property of ____’ for my muses reaction to yours claiming them. Send “Reverse property” to have me write how my muse would lay claim to your muse||Accepting||

Verse: Mmm memory serving Shugarl was his canon Shinigami self and Mathew was like his summoner? So I guess this is Canon!Shugarl verse ^^ @tmtheory

An upper class demon... a shinigami at that, one who ruled over one of the many Hells... was subjected to this. 

He could’ve had legions of demons cooking up a feast for him if he so demanded it, but no, here he was... cooking. Why? 

This HUMAN who had summoned him (on accident) couldn’t cook to his standard. He was a demon with refined tastes. Humans would nary be able to produce something his superior palate would enjoy consuming. 

What a shame, truly. 

Again, he was summoned, by ACCIDENT. There was no way for him to go back at the moment-- unless his contractor were to die of course. 

However, it was against the law to kill your contractor purposefully. If you did, your soul could easily be ripped apart-- meaning you were going to die. 

Even a shinigami like himself could not get away from such a painful punishment. 

He may enjoy tormenting others (to death, as that’s his job) and causing chaos, but that didn’t mean he necessarily enjoyed breaking the rules. A tweak here and there to satisfy his own means could be forgiven, but disobeying a law that would result in some catastrophic change in the way a world functioned could not be forgiven. 

That being said... he couldn’t accept this! The wooden spoon he was cooking with snapped in his hand.

The demon glared angrily at the human who dared speak to him as he was cooking. “You may be my summoner, but I DON’T belong to YOU. It may be different if you’ve summoned me PROPERLY and not as an ACCIDENT, but as it stands, I belong to no one but myself.” He hissed. 

As if this was a common occurrence between the two of them, Shugarl reached over to pull out a brand new wooden spoon. They kept a good stock of these spoons, likely for this very reason. 

He spooned some stew into a bowl and set it in front of Mathew. Leaning in to look him square in the eyes. “Allow me to slaughter humans in my wake and maybe i’ll entertain the idea.”

A bluff, since he knew Mathew wouldn’t allow it. It can’t hurt to give it a try, right?

[skull-daddy]

♒ (Guzma and Petrel)

Guzma had gotten out of the pool. He’d found his lemonade. His sweet, sweet lemonade. In fact, he had spent quite a few minutes searching the poolside until he found his lemonade, and while he had been cold and wet a few minutes ago (frankly, an occurrence one might consider normal since he was at a pool, but Guzma hadn’t been ready to get wet yet) the sun had mostly dried him off by the time he found his lemonade bottle under someone’s chair.

Of course, that didn’t seem to matter to the orange-haired nerd who decided to take it upon himself to join in on the Guzma-dunking fun. He saw it coming before it happened, but unfortunately, Guzma wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way (this nerd was surprisingly agile!) and down he went.

“Yeah, really funny!” he grumbled when he yet again broke the surface of the water and had to push his hair out of his face, eying Mathew with a disgruntled expression. “Why don’t you come closer so I can show you how hilarious it all is?”

Petrel, meanwhile, is dying. He honestly didn’t think Mathew would have the balls to just go up and shove Guzma in, but oh, how wrong he’d been. The entire scene had been absolutely priceless, especially since this was the second time he got to see Guzma’s lemonade bottle go flying.

He starts forward, giving Mathew a little clap as he comes to stand next to him. “Oh my god, Mat, you got him good,” he crowed, to which Mathew responded with a teasing smile and laugh of his own.

“You bring out the worst in me, Petrel,” he chuckled in reply, to which Petrel could only laugh a little more. Yeah, he was such a bad influence. It’s a shame he missed the delightfully devious way Mathew’s smile broadened; suddenly, Mathew’s hands are at his center of balance and shove, and Petrel windmills his arms as his laughing ends abruptly with an “oh shIT” and a splash into the pool. He, too, comes sputtering up into the air a moment later to find Mathew doubled over laughing at the edge of the pool.

“Oh no,” Mathew says between laughs, “oh no, I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself! Are you okay?” For a moment, Petrel exchanges a look with Guzma. It seems they’re on the same page.

Together, the two of them reach out to grab Mathew by the wrists and pull him in, too!

[argxnto-blog1]

⊱♥⊰

Oh no. He knew what the man was going to do the minute he approached him, but it wasn’t as though Silver could have done anything to stop him; the man wrapped his arms around Silver and hugged him tightly, protectively, but Silver only did his best to pull away, and get his body as far away from the other’s as possible. What the hell was his problem, hugging people at random? Who does that? The unpleasantry of it all was written all over his face, and by the time the man pulled back, Silver practically stumbled backwards.

He gave the other a puzzled, bewildered sort of look, before his first awkward steps took him the opposite direction to walk away.

[thekuraning-art]

Lip-synced Mathew Jermain for @tmtheory

Mathew Jermain © @tmtheory

He’s a TM scientist! :V

[xuanos]

❝ I can only speak for myself. ❞

a hundred random starters meme

“ Naw, I agree, ” he almost sings, pitch rising as he twists and turns in front of a mirror. In its reflection he sees Mathew lean against a desk behind him, calm briefly lost when his hand darts out to keep a mug from falling to its doom.

“ Lab coats are cool. Always wanted one just to have one - my intelligence not exactly of the caliber to be deserving...” He turns around, setting his feet shoulder-width and stuffing his hands in the coat’s pockets. Clean and sophisticated.          “How do I look, fellow intellectual?”

“ Like a distraction. It’s about time this coffee break ended, don’t you think? ” Mathew laughs as he expectantly arches his eyebrows.

“ I’m flattered. ”

“ Y-You know I didn’t mean it like that! ”

[etcile-archive-blog]

A Marriage of True Minds - Mathew & Sycamore

@tmtheory

One can see a man in his 30s strolling down the streets of Kalos in full winter regalia, exhaling quickly as he begins to pick up speed towards the laboratory. Today, he will meet a visitor, one from the same region as he. Mathew Jermain… he mumbles as he slows down, taking out his Holocaster to make some last minute arrangements with the personnel on hand at the laboratory.

Mathew is here to meet him on a collaboration of Mega Evolution and TM moves. Sycamore, just the night before, had sped through every paper that this man had written and was astounded by what he had found. Though admittedly the professor had only heard his name in passing, to see his works now showed for themselves how capable this man truly was.

As I will wish of you, Mathew, he had written in a final email before falling asleep on the floor of his apartment, passed out from exhaustion. Long distance correspondence wasn’t easy but after a mutual friend, a young lady now working at Sycamore’s place, had brought his papers for Sycamore to view, to say his interest was piqued was an understatement.  

Rarely has he ever met such a person dealing in an advanced field. TMs, or Technical Machines, were items that one could give to one’s Pokémon in order to teach them a new moves. When paired with Mega Evolution, the results are astounding, Sycamore reads in the paper. As a still young field, the possibilities for collaborations and combinations are endless, the paper concludes.

Sycamore pens an email right away.

Now, arriving at the lab, he sees a bright orange bushel of hair facing him and hears a voice that carried the same singsong lilt that his did, something all city Kalosians had. He clears his throat as his assistant moves away and he flits forward towards the man.

Mathew, oui? Bienvenue! Je m’apelle Augustine Sycamore. Je suis professeur de region Kalos. But you know that already, non? It is a great pleasure to be working with someone as esteemed as you. First, would you like a drink? Some coffee, perhaps?  

[earthen-decay-blog]

Service || Mathew & Giovanni

@tmtheory

He wasn’t the Boss for nothing, after all.

Giovanni oversaw all aspects of Team Rocket, to some degree. All aspects of its business, at any rate, and its business tended to include the numerous front companies and shady businesses tangled so far up in their own webs that their ownership was rarely, if ever, traced back to him. Especially not by the wrong people. Some, perhaps, were aware of the skeevy dives and various “massage parlours” Giovanni owned around the KohJoh areas, and fewer were privy to the fact that these were the various bases of operation—and, in the case of this particular dark, seedy strip club, the designated playground—of Team Rocket. Yes, Giovanni wasn’t the boss for nothing, and it was good to be king. The king, after all, always got what he wanted. Power warranted hedonism.

Half pleasure palace and half business, the Seducente Palazzo was Giovanni’s most preferred relaxation hubs for a complex of reasons; one just so happened to be who he summoned that evening. Giovanni had more than one private room at the Palazzo, but this one in particular was notable for its view; the top floor of the small building, but at the top of a hill overlooking the city proper, and in darkness, the lights and heart of Saffron came alive, gleaming as the ultimate “fuck you” to the cold and distant universe. It wasn’t nearly as heavy with incense as the rest of the building, but maintained the seductive Gothic decor he so admired. This was where he summoned him, that evening. This was where he waited, so patiently for now, to indulge in pleasure he had long desired.

He was ready and waiting when he arrived, let him in and gently, yet adamantly, shut closed the door behind him. Their last encounter had been a pleasant surprised, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. “Good evening,” he greeted, “Come in. Sit. I thought perhaps you’d enjoy a break.”

[scrubs-and-cigs]

💝- A memory that made them feel loved

It’s over. It’s all gone. Rocket’s gone. Like that. Overnight. The only life he’d ever known. Gone.

There’s something about it that just feels permanent. Final. It’s the end. Rocket’s dead, the reaper’s come, the curtain falls. However anyone wanted to say it. Only a few days ago this uniform, this stupid uniform, it meant something. It meant power and dominance and strength, it meant that Petrel was a force to be reckoned with, and with the entirety of KohJoh’s organized crime in his pocket and backing him up, to boot. Now it was just rags, torn and dirty and grimy. A painful memory of a life that had been ripped out from under him.

It’s dark by the time he gets to Saffron. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out in the field, hasn’t had time to pay attention to the days rolling passed as he crawled through underbrush and scrambled through mountains and woods, doing his damndest to keep hidden. He had barely been able to sleep, was too anxious to eat—around every corner was fear. Deep, primal fear. They must have been hunting him. They must have been. Interpol was out there, Interpol was after them, and now, now Rocket was gone and Petrel didn’t have anyone to rely on, and he didn’t want to go back to jail, didn’t want to be held and starved, beaten, waterboarded, humiliated, whatever ‘enhanced interrogation’ they would have in store for someone like him to torture his fellow Executives’ hideaways out of him—

He drew nearer to the houses as he continued to run, and there was one that quickly took his attention above the rest. He knew that house. He recognized it. Maybe—maybe he still…. Swallowing hard, he pushed himself harder, feeling the fire in his muscles and pain in his joints and back, but he didn’t slow down, forced himself through it, and before he knew it he bounded up the porch steps and to the front door, where he raised one fist to quickly pound on it before slumping to the side to catch his breath in big, shuddering pants.

A moment later a light turns on inside, and the lock clicks. He sticks his head outside the door–it’s him. It’s him. Petrel wants to greet him, but can only wheeze, and his eyes are drawn to the side, widen upon seeing him. “P-Petrel!” he says, and frowns, brows knitting.

“Mathew,” he finally manages to wheeze out, sides and shoulders heaving with the effort. There’s something up. Mathew is looking at him oddly. Did he know? Did… did he know what happened? Or maybe he’s just… hungry? Sleepy? He gives up on trying to determine Mathew’s expression; it’s a lost cause in this state.

Mathew continues to stare, and they’re quiet for a long, long moment. He… looks like he might want to shut the door? But instead he opens it wider, steps back. Petrel takes that as an invitation, and supporting himself on the wall, shuffles inside.

Mathew lets him use the shower, and Petrel takes his time scrubbing the layers of filth off his skin until it’s almost like the passed few days hadn’t even happened. When he came out there was a fluffy towel waiting for him. Warm, like it had just come out of a drier. And a change of clothes, too–his uniform was nowhere to be found, but the fresh underwear, t-shirt, and flannel pants were warm, too. Petrel paused as he fingered the material, then slowly, leaned to press his nose to the fabric before taking in a deep whiff. It… smelled like him. These were Mathew’s. Something about the fact touched Petrel, stirred something in his chest. An ache. A longing.

When he was finally dry and dressed, he found Mathew back out in the living room arranging sheets on the couch. He watched him quietly for a moment, but Mathew soon noticed he was there, and their eyes met. “I thought you might have wanted to stay for the night,” Mathew said.

“Um… thanks,” Petrel replied awkwardly. Mathew nodded.

“There’s water bottles in the fridge,” he continued, “if you need them. Some leftovers, too. I don’t know if you’re…. if you’re hungry. B-but if you need anything, just… just let me know, alright? I–I have work in the morning, so I need to sleep, but….” Petrel shuffled out of the way as Mathew made to move back passed him, eyes glancing from the couch to his retreating form.

“W-wait!” Petrel suddenly said, and Mathew paused and turned back to him. “I… I don’t…. Can I sleep in your room?” His eyes widened. Petrel hastened to clarify. “On the floor, not–not in your bed, I just—I don’t—I don’t want to be alone. Not right now. Please? Mathew?”

Silence. Staring. More of this. Petrel felt the heat rising to his ears, knew he should have kept his mouth shut. Slowly, he began to turn so he could lay down on the couch and forget he even asked, but before he could, Mathew stretched one hand out to him. Petrel swallowed hard. Was this… good? He reached out to take Mathew’s hand in his own.

“Come on, Mr. Petrel,” Mathew said quietly, “just for tonight, okay?”

Petrel slept more soundly that night than he could ever remember, a warm glow in his chest lulling him easily to sleep. This, he thought to himself, bundled tight in soft blankets, was certainly love.

[argxnto-blog1]

♨ Their cooking ability (or lack thereof)

“I can...” he trailed off, looking away. Of all the things he was insecure about, why the hell did it have to be this? He grumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I can make ramen... pretty well. It helps me survive; that’s all that matters.” Though, at this stage, he could probably kill for a nice meal he actually knew how to make.

[thekuraning-art]

Whoops, another Mathew Jermain © @rockettheory / @tmtheory

Mathew u such a cutie (-uvu-)

[gogogobarry]

✫

"Dan was a good kid in school for the most part, but DID YOU KNOW that he almost got suspended two times during high school? Really changes your opinion of him, doesn't it?""Both crimes occurred during his senior year! During lunch, Dan loaded up a pea pod onto a spoon and slammed the handle off the edge of the table. Dan's friends watched the rogue pea fly--directly into some dude's eye. After much apologizing to both "Dude" and "Dude's Angry 'Legal Action' Mom," Dan escaped with a stern warning and lunch for a week in the office.""The second time was totally his fault, though! He threw a snowball at a friend exiting school and accidentally nailed the crabbiest biology teacher right in the chest! How he escaped punishment for that one--we call it 'The Christmas Miracle'."

[etcile-archive-blog]

✮- And a name to hear their real feelings for them. (For Fontaine)

Where do I start? Oh, Mathew. What a gift and a joy you have been. I think it’s beautiful that we both find ways to express ourselves without using any words - you with moves and myself with art. I think in that moment I saw you, I will not hesitate to admit that it was your exuberance that captured me. When you were demonstrating Skitty up on the stage, I stood there, enraptured. When you greeted me, my heart, I’ll admit a little more reluctantly, skipped a few beats. Figuratively, of course.

When we kissed that night on the balcony of my room, I was drunk on your scent, so sweet and wonderful it was. Your lips tasted like the softest, plumpest fruit I’ve ever tasted. 

It was bliss.

When you sent me the gifts on Christmas, I had just come back from an exhibition. Lisa and I were tired and the surprise factor was most definitely there. But. I’m grateful, so grateful. I have not received a present out of work since I was a child. 

I’m 35, Mathew. I’m not young anymore. I smoke, yes and that probably shortens my lifespan even more. But it’s a habit, tu sais? You would know. We all have habits. Bad ones, good ones. It just happens I have more bad ones. 

I’m not a happy man, Mathew. Tears do not come easy to me. Contradictory facts but the truth. Why? I cry when I’m alone. 

So, now here I ask you. 

Will you be mine? 

You don’t have to answer, cheri, for I don’t need nor want one. It was something said aloud, in the moment of aloneness.

Just know it in your heart that I love you.

[skull-daddy]

//Hey hey hey friends Tabs is back! I’mma get on replies so here’s what I’m looking at right now! Th-th-th-th-threaaaad trackeerrrrr!

Petrel

Owes: Lavender Blues, rollingxrocker; Alpha Nerd, kvlosfire

Owed by: Et Mortem, lux-vitae; New Years’, tmtheory

Grimsley

Owes: Book Meet, ingoverned; Sandstream, midnightmemento; Dirty Politics, theelitediva; starter for berlitzx

Owed by: ???

Guzma

Owes: A Fairy in Paradise, magic-fairy-circle; Step Up Your Game, sootopolinwave

Owed by: ???

....and that’s it! A lot of friends are on hiatus, so if I’m missing anyone or if anyone needs threads hit me up and we’ll work something out.