#I have fucking reall pockets sticking out

[kiradrinkalot]

The only conspiracy theory I 100% believe in is that womans pants have tiny or no pockets is so that we buy purses

And it's the same reason why we can carry like 10 items in each hand

[mellicose]

That Woman Over There - Chapter 3

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: Teen, for language

Word count: 2924

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter 3

They spent a nice morning in, since Olivia was still on her extended pregnancy leave. Connie reveled in their domestic rhythms, and it made her wistful. She missed it. The unhurried affection, the unspoken knowledge of each other’s habits.

After breakfast, they sat around chatting again, but before lunch, Connie was yawning and rubbing her eyes.

“You’re still jetlagged,” Olivia said, picking up Monty from the play seat on the floor “You should have a little nap before lunch.”

“I dunno,” she said. “Then I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“I’ll wake you in an hour. Monty’s looking like he needs a nap too,” she said, and kissed his sticky cheek. “It’s been a busy morning.”

She leaned over and poked Monty’s belly. “What up, friend,” she whispered. “We’re nap buddies.” He yawned, then gave her a grin. She looked up at Olivia. “Yeah, I think I could use a sueñito.”

Olivia smiled. “A little sleep, si?” she said.

“Precisamente,” Connie said. Olivia had loved their Spanish lessons back in the day. And she had been a very, very good student.

“Hasta luego,” she said, waving Monty’s hand at her. “Until later, Aunt Connie. Bye bye…” she said softly, then walked out.

She got comfortable on the giant sofa and pulled a woven blanket over herself. The sun warmed her feet, making the burns sting a bit. She tucked them in the blanket.

Aunt Connie, she thought, and closed her eyes. I like the sound of that.

Slow, pulsing pink. 

Her cheeks burned with sunlight. She turned to her side and it was dark again. Singing, soft, and in an unfamiliar cadence, kept her from sinking back into unconsciousness. It was sweet, and vaguely reminded her of late nights in her childhood, when her father sat by her bed after coming back from parts unknown, still smelling of good tobacco and bay rum. He sang to her to let her know he was there, hoping it would sift through to her dreams and comfort her.

She missed her papa. But he had gone to a place she would not follow.

She sniffled, and her closed eyes filled with tears. One of them finally dripped to the batik pillow.

“Ye okay?” John said, voice gentle with concern. She opened an eye. He was sitting on the floor, in front of the coffee table. Her ball of necklaces was now neatly organized on the table by metal type and length. He smiled at her, thrusting his bearded chin at his handiwork. “Brilliant, right?”

“Don’t touch my things,” she said. She leaned forward to grab her necklaces, and clumsily slid off the sofa.

He took her hand before she got a messy fistful and tangled them again. “I’m sorry about this morning. I was trying to be funny, and failed miserably. You’re beautiful. Really,” he said, his brows knitting with sincerity. She yanked her hand away and crawled back onto the sofa.

“I don’t need your approval. Just leave my stuff alone,” she said, turning her back to him. He tried not to stare at her bum, but her jean shorts left little to the imagination. It was a very nice bum. She groaned and threw the blanket over herself, although her legs were still exposed. He wrapped a string of coral beads around his wrist and sat at the end of the sofa. His fingers ghosted over the fading red of the burns.

“You should put more aloe on those,” he said. She kicked at him, but lightly. “Where’d you put the other aloe leaf I gave you?” He went to the kitchen. It was shriveling on the sill of the window facing his back yard.

Interesting.

He peeled it and sat back down beside her. She was still and her breathing was deep, miming sleep.

He smiled. “You know you snore like a ploughman, right?” he said.

She grunted and flipped him off. “Go home, Juan.”

“One what?” he said. She turned to scowl at him, and he held up the slimy leaf. “Do you mind if I…” he pointed at her legs.

She sat up and tried to take the leaf from him, but it slid out of her fingers to the carpet. Her wavy hair stuck up in the back, and it was thoroughly charming. He stared at her a beat too long, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“You go to bed with women, but I doubt you see them wake up much,” she said. It was petty, but she was irritated. And embarrassed. Did she snore that loud?

“I was married for 13 years. I saw bedhead enough,” he said. “And dealt with morning mouth. And popping back pimples. And the gun-loud sleep farts? Fuck, I’d wake up thinking she finally shot me,” he said.

She snorted and put her hand over her mouth, but refused to laugh outwardly. She knew all about those. Ella had startled her many times with her vegan wind.

He  winked. ”Made you laugh.”

“No you didn’t,” she said. “It was a yawn.”

“Sure,” he said, and picked up the aloe. It was covered with dust bunnies. “Ugh. I’ll get you more.”

“Don’t worry about it-” she said, and out of habit, put her hand over his. He gave her a look that made her walk in front of the window to scrutinize him. He was a misogynist ass. Completely. A mouth-breathing nerd trying too hard to be a dudebro. But still, her stomach did a flip. “Gimme my necklace back. My mom gave it to me.”

He pulled it carefully from around his wrist, where the coral looked like prayer beads. She was loathe to admit they looked good on him.

“It’s coral, right?” he said, holding it up to the light with long, delicate fingers. “Medusa’s blood.”

She leaned against the windowsill. “What?”

“In greek mythology, when Perseus finally succeeded in cutting off Medusa’s head, the blood dripped to the sea and formed red coral.”

She loved mythology, and for a second, she forgot herself and sat by him. “I don’t remember that,” she said. He took her hand and dropped the beads in the cup of her palm, where they clicked and pooled like blood. “My dad used to read mythology to me when I was little. In Spanish, though.”

“I didn’t get to school much when I was wee, so I read a lot. I loved reading about Hercules and Perseus and Odysseus. Big, brawny, brave men.”

“Why not?” she asked.

He patted his back. “The brace made it … difficult for me to do certain things on my own when I was a little, so my mum home schooled me. Later, in high school, I was able to go often enough to graduate. Lucky me,” he said, but a shadow crossed his eyes. She noticed immediately because, ordinarily, they gleamed with good humor.

“Oh,” she said, nodding. “Was it that bad?”

He pooched his lips and rolled his eyes. “A boy need a proper backbone to deal with all the shite the world throws at ‘im,” he said. He used a heavier brogue that wasn’t his own. “You oughtta quit whinging and straighten up, lad. I’m starting to you’re using that contraption as an excuse to linger ‘round yer ma’s skirts.”

He smiled, but it was bitter.

“Fuck,” she said softly. She thought back on last night. After coming back into the house, she was rinsing out her coffee cup and saw movement in his yard. He did a series of stretches, reaching up to the moon, exhaling until his ribcage was visible through his stained t-shirt, then twisting slowly from side to side, hands on his waist.

She hadn’t meant to stare, but she did. There was graceful deliberation to his actions that made her feel herself in a way she had not in months. She rarely saw men who moved like that except dancers, and they were mostly gay. In any case, she knew he wasn’t trying to impress anyone with the movements - he didn’t know he was being watched.

“I wish I was homeschooled,” she said, finally.

“Oi?” he said, distracted.

“Home schooled. I went to a fancy school, but so much for good breeding - the teachers were as vicious as the students,” she said, putting the coral beads around her neck.

“Oh yeah?”

“It was running gag. Whenever I said something, they would pretend they couldn’t understand. They would make a face and say ‘No understando’ or ‘someone get the maid to translate���. Or my dubious favorite, ‘Shakespeare might be too hard for you. You should just stick with Cantinflas,’”she said, and sniffed.”That shit got old the first day, but it went on for years. The fact that my father is a diplomat made it worse.”

“Who is Cantinflas?” he said.

“A really popular Mexican comedian who did a bunch of movies in the 40’s and 50’s. His thing was playing poor country bumpkins, but he turned the trope on its head. He did broke but clever. He was a cultural icon, really.”

“So, not as much an insult as they thought,” he said. “Some kids are assholes. I didn’t grow up anywhere near rich, so… it was all ketosis-breathed gobshites.”

She giggled. “Gobshites,” she said.

“Cockwombles. Numpties,” he said. She started to laugh.

“That’s hilarious,” she said. “Hijos de la gran puta. Pendejos de la vela, toditos se pueden ir al carajo.*”`

“Those sound dirty,” he said. “I recognized puta.”

“You would, bitch,” she said. He gave her a mock hurt look. She winked.

“You’re getting along famously,” Olivia said loudly. “How wonderful.”

Connie jumped up and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Pfft. He was stalking me while I slept.”

“I was untangling your horrible ball of necklaces,” he said, pointing to the coffee table.

“Did you hear her snoring? She’s like a bear,” Olivia said, giggling.

Connie’s mouth dropped open. “Olivia!”

“My vote’s for ploughman,” John said, scrunching up his nose.

Olivia sat down on the sofa. “When we had sleepovers, I got in the habit of listening to my Discman so I could get some rest,” she said.

“You said you couldn’t sleep without music,” Connie said. “Dirty liar.”

“It wasn’t all a lie. Without music, I couldn’t sleep … with you.”

“You guys suck,” she said, and stomped into the kitchen.

“I love you too,” Olivia yelled after her.

Olivia pointed at the organized jewelry. “Did you really do all that?”

“Yeah. Seeing it was setting my teeth on edge,” he said. He picked up the pearls. “Did you really give her these?”

“Yes. Those are the pearls I was wearing the day we met,” she said.

“How sentimental,” John said in a sibilant falsetto.

“Totally gay,” Olivia said. “Where’s Alex? I fell asleep with Monty and she disappeared.”

“She went to the shops to buy ingredients for dinner. Her famous spag bol.”

“Ooh, yummy,” Olivia said, clapping her hands.

John shrugged. “Don’t know why you can’t just get it out of a can.”

“She makes it with homemade tomato sauce and italian sausage. You can’t get that out of a can.”

He shrugged and worked the pearls like prayer beads. Their smooth coolness was exquisite. He wondered why men didn’t wear them.

“Oh, about tonight. I’ve been meaning to tell you some news.”

“Really. You’re not moving, are you?”

“You wish. Nah. But it’s big. I think you’ll be proud.”

“You’re going to rid of your deep v t-shirt collection?” Olivia said, in fine form. She wished Alex was there to hear it.

“Never,” he said. He resisted the urge to tap a pearl against his teeth.“Her snoring. It’s not that bad, is it?” he said softly.

“Nah. You get used to it.”

“Did you?” he asked. 

She wasn’t expecting the question. “I suppose,” she said. “I didn’t care at the time. And we didn’t do much sleeping anyway.”

John hooted.

“Get your head out of the gutter.”

“But that’s where it lives,” he said.

“We would listen to music, read to each other, and talk for hours and hours. I would help her with her pronunciation, and she would help me with my French and Spanish.”

“She knows French too?” he said.

Olivia smiled. “Her mum’s french. You know, like, Paris French.”

“Insufferable,” John said, but he tilted his head to try and get a glimpse of her in the kitchen.

“She’s got a good heart. She’s one of the warmest people I’ve ever known.”

“And yet I’m freezing my lads off,” he said, making a face.

“Well, she’s angry at you.”

“Why? I heard what you said last night, about her not blaming me individually. What did you mean by that? I didn’t know her from Eve two days ago.”

“Eavesdropper,” she said. Olivia gave the dramatic sigh she always did before a story. He leaned back and crossed his legs.

“A little more than a year ago, her father filed for divorce from her mother after almost 37 years of marriage. She took it really, really hard.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” he said.

“It came as a huge surprise to everyone, including her mum. She thought everything was business as usual. But during the course of the proceedings, certain facts started to come to light that proved that it had been a long time coming, for him.”

John looked lost. Olivia leaned forward and grabbed his wrist.

“He said he was done with the increasingly misandrist tilt of the world he lived in, and declared that he is now part of MGTOW.”

John’s heart began to sink again, as he knew exactly what it stood for. At one point not too long ago, he felt the same way.

“Men going their own way,” he said softly. “Fuck.”

Olivia nodded.

“He exposed aspects of his relationship with his wife with which he was very displeased, and said he was tired to lugging her dead weight, citing her re-occurring depression and substance abuse problem as intolerable. In short, he was convinced he could do better. Furthermore, he brought proof of instances of verbal and emotional abuse due to the substance use before the court, and he nearly got everything. Her mum went from an Upper West Side brownstone to a one-bedroom flat in Flatbush, since she refuses to move in with Connie. She’s deeply humiliated.”

He was afraid to ask the question. As far as he knew, politicians and diplomats didn’t frequent his humble site - it was mostly insecure college guys and bitter divorced men.

“But why me, Olivia?”

“He mentioned your site as the catalyst that helped to make up his mind. ‘Thousands of men speaking the truth to power about women in a safe space, free from judgment.’ He said he felt solidarity. He said you were a saint and a hero for refusing to be a white knight to screeching misandrists.” Olivia rolled her eyes.

“Fuck,” John said again, more vehemently. “So he mentioned Mannism? And my name?”

She nodded. “I got a screaming phone call, since I had already told her about you and Alex. She was hysterical. It took me hours to talk her out of flying over her to castrate you.” Olivia hugged herself. “What she failed to realize is that it put me between a rock and a hard place. You were the father of-” she nodded quickly, “-the damage was done. But honestly, I hated you. Not only for her, but for everything else. For a while.”

“And you kept that to yourself for all this time?” he said, genuinely surprised.

“What could I do? I fucked up, then Alex fucked up and you fucked up...” she pointed at him. “Everything was fucked. And I didn’t have much sympathy left for her at the time.”

Olivia didn’t usually swear like that.

“We didn’t talk until right after the baby was born, and still, it hurt that she wasn’t going to make it to the birth. We promised each other as girls that we would be present at the birth of our first born. But-” she hiccuped, “she said if I insisted you be there, even after what happened with Alex-” she sniffled, and fat tears dripped down her cheeks.

“Damn it, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because at the time, you were important to Alex, and since Alex was the most important thing in the world to me…”

John stood up slowly. He shook his head. “I didn’t know.”

“Now you do,” Connie said from the doorway, wiping her eyes.

Olivia wept on the sofa, her hands palm up on her knees. Connie ran to her, already crying.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, falling to her knees in front of Olivia and hugging her waist. “I was a selfish, stubborn, unfair, foolish bitch,” she said, and buried her head in Olivia’s chest. Olivia hugged her back, whooping with emotion.

“I missed you,” she said, hiccuping. “I missed you being there…”

Connie’s body trembled. “I didn’t see Monty ... being born …” she clung even harder to Olivia. “Your little baby…”

They wept passionately in each other’s arms. At any other time, their wailing might almost border on comical, but not now.

He knew it was because of him. It was all because of him.

He walked out the back door quietly and let them make it up alone.

Read Chapter 4

*Sons of bitches. Bunch of dumbasses. They can all go to fucking hell.

[themadnessthatis]

So, Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness...

Warning, this is going to be a long-ass post, mostly me rambling about how TR6 was a game with good concepts but shitty execution. Expect a bit of non-linear ranting.

I have some serious Opinions™ on this game, now having finished it (which was a quasi-Herculean feat in of itself from fighting against the game the whole time, but more on that in a bit).

When I first got this game, eyes full of wonder and amazement, I was like “aw yeah, a new Tomb Raider for a new generation of consoles!”. Having only played it for a bit my opinion quickly soured, and the game was never played after having fallen down a hole and dying in the Parisian sewers. All I said to myself at the time was “wow, this game is shit,never playing this again :| .”

Which I didn’t, until recently.

Fast forward a bit, and a friend of mine lends me her PC copies of Tomb Raider 2-through-6 (sadly no copy of TR1  :’[ ), which I sat down and played, all while eyeing up the box containing AoD with animosity. Boy did I regret saying I wouldn’t mind if she lent me that one as well.

But after going through the other games with various degrees of ease, from the “wow it’s over already?” of Chronicles to the “Will it never end?” of TR3 (which I personally rate as the worst of the “old school” Tomb Raiders. Just....fuck that game, the best part of it is the credits, but I digress.), we were left with just one more game; Angel of Darkness, sitting there, almost expectantly.

“Well, it’s been a while, maybe I was just bad at the game, and it’s actually alright?” I said as I set about installing it, ready to give the game the benefit of the doubt.

Well the fact that controller setup was a pain in the arse should’ve been a dead giveaway that something was up. Though is was nowhere near as infuriating as Chronicles, which required a fucking JoyToKey configuration to get it to work smoothly, otherwise jumps would result in Lara just careening off to the side every.fucking.time.)

Actually, when you first play AoD, the controls are really the first thing you’ll pick up on. I.E: they’re the worst. Really they’re the biggest flaw of this whole game, and if they weren’t as clunky and gods-awful as they are, AoD might’ve been a much better experience. Lara controls like a fucking Mark IV from 1917; turns, speed, everything. It’s such a jarring shift from the previous installments that it really takes some time getting used to, and could be a reall deal-breaker. Also Lara no longer runs like she used to, more like a slow jog, only gaining the ability to sprint later in the game (you know, the thing she could do at the very beginning of TR3, 4 and 5? Like she has to learn how to use her legs, after all of her previous escapades?!). Jumping also seems to have undergone some hideous transformation; from somewhat fluid sequences to an absolutely jerky mess of a mechanic, not helped by Lara needing some space to build up momentum (from walk to jog). Like the only time she handles almost smoothly is when she’s swimming (which thank fuck no longer has her getting stuck on the walls and floor like she did in previous games.).

When you’re not busy fighting against the controls and some of the early Capcom-esque fixed camera angles, you might be able to notice some of the changes to the TR formula, for better or for worse.

Perhaps the most noticeable is Lara’s equipment; gone are her iconic (not Ubisoft iconic, mind you) pistols with unlimited ammo. In their place Lara can collect a plethora of new pistols, including a very nice taser. Though this is moot when Lara eventually loses all of her acquired weapons, as she is wont to do if TR1, 2 and 3 are anything to go by. You also get the classic shotgun and two SMGs. Though tbh, and this might just be me, but don’t all of the weapons in this game feel like the do the same amount of damage?

One thing that was a nice touch was the inventory revamp. The ring-like setup from previous TRs is gone, and now each type of item (health, weapons and puzzle clues) have their own inventory sections, making it less of an eyesore than the cluttered messes of the previous game’s inventories. Speaking of health, the repertoire of healing items has been increased, with various items granting various degrees of health restoration, which is nice, no more wasting medikits (though i do not understand how a chocolate bar could heal a person, but whatever, video game logic, i guess.). The puzzle clues section does get kinda cluttered though, as Lara doesn’t seem to want to get rid of anything she picks up, even if she no longer needs it, so her pockets are basically just full of security cards and bits of paper until the end of the game like JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK JUST DUMP THAT SHIT IN A BIN, LARA!”.

On the subject of puzzles, it’s great that that is an element that has carried over to AoD nicely, unlike some of the more modern titles (looking at you, Tomb Raider 2013). The Hall of Seasons was a great example of this, and is very reminiscent of the St Francis’ Folly from the original games, what with its God-themed rooms. Granted that there were other “puzzles” that were a little too obvious, like “push table to find mixture to kill giant plant”. But overall,  the puzzle side of Tomb Raider is definitely there. Although, there are no secrets to find (but after TR3 and 4′s “And your reward is FLARES” bullshit, I’m okay with that).

So, what about the story? To be perfectly honest, it’s as about as normal as a Tomb Raider story line can be: Secret sect looking for paintings so they can resurrect an ancient race of human/angel hybrids that was destroyed back in biblical times except not all of them, and Lara gets involved b/c they killed Von Croy and she was framed for it... Look, it’s certainly not as far-fetched as “Italian mafia dude looking for magic Chinese knife that turns people into dragons instead of corpses when stabbed with it.” (Love you, TR2, but what even...), or whatever the hell was going on in TR3 with its magical ancient Polynesian artifacts and “rapid evolution”, but it’s out there.

Mechanics wise, there have been some changes that are quite nice in concept, but are failed by poor execution (a running theme for this game). The grip meter is a new thing, and is influenced by Lara’s upper body strength (like how her jumping/sprinting and door-kicking are affected by her lower body strength), like a sort of RPG attribute. These body strength factors are a nice tough and could’ve been a plus in a good game, but here the attributes are given out at arbitrary moments throughout the game and feel forced, like at one moment Lara must gain an upper body strength upgrade by just shunting a pile of boxes around for no real reason. When you couple this with the sluggish momentum-based “running”, it’s almost like the developers were trying to go for a more “realistic” feel but didn’t really know how to go about it.

There’s also a certain Bioware-esque dialogue tree that pops up from time to time in the game. While it’s a nice touch, the fact that there’s no real change to the outcome (bar 3 exceptions) kind of makes the interactions pointless.

Going past the mechanics, the game itself (at least on PC), is a glitchy, buggy mess that would crash for no reason. Textures are missing, walls vanish in some of Kurtis’ (a boring, bland secondary character we get to play as, and I’ll get to him in a second.) levels for no reason, not to mention that one level can be skipped entirely thanks to a bug where Lara just has to roll into a fucking wall. Also, not certain if it’s more an exploit than it is a bug, but it’s kinda of an anticlimax that the last two bosses can be cheesed by just commando-crawling under their projectiles. The greatest menaces to humanity, outdone by toddler maneuvers .

Now, onto Kurtis...Kurtis is a member of an organisation dedicated to stomping out evil, particularly sorcery and alchemy (thus pitting him against the big baddie, Eckhardt, who looks like he just got done trying to audition for the part of Auron from Final Fantasy). He’s supposed to come across as some sort of bad boy with magical powers, but honestly he’s a boring, ugly, fucking Broody McGravelvoice with no personality. You get to play as him for all of 3 (or was it 4?) levels, and boy oh boy, you will hat him throughout all of them. Somehow, and I didn’t know it was possible, somehow he controls WORSE than Lara. He moves like he’s got a broom up his arse and jumps like he’s on the fucking moon. His levels feel like they were  some De-mastered edition of Until Dawn, full of enemies that serve no purpose other than to drain you of resources, and are capped off with the worst boss fight ever, thanks to twitchy auto-aim and Kurtis’ shoddy controls. Like fucking Mark Williard at  the end of TR3 was more feasible than this cavalcade of bullshit. Also the first time he meets Lara in the Louvre, the cut-scene is just so unsettling and creepy, she should’ve just beat his arse into the tiled floor there and then. I seriously hope he’s dead.

And the ending... What a bloody disappointment; Lara wanders off into a dark passage after killing the bigger bad, and then...nothing. No credits, no “the end” screen, the game just shits you back onto the “Press Start” screen.

But in the end, after all was said and done, I think my opinion of AoD has shifted somewhat. I don’t hate it like I thought I did, I’m just, I dunno, disappointed...This game had so many good ideas that were handled so poorly, and it certainly wasn’t helped that, at least on the PC version, it was a glitch-fest and the controls were piss-poor. And as a final insult? Jiggle physics. I’m not fucking kidding like Core Design  couldn’t iron out the bugs and do something about the arse-backwards controls, but they gotta make sure dem jiggly titties are in there? -_-’ Fucking hell what a dumpster fire of a game. Like I want to like it but the fuck-headedness of it all just, just no. 

[artificialqueens]

everything carries me to you: part two (thorcid) - featherpluckn

AN: Thank you so much to Mindy and Lucy for talking me through the Writer Crazies :D

Jamin should have known this was all going to go tits up.

He had convinced  himself that he and Shane were friends. They could be just friends. Even if he felt differently or thought Shane felt differently it didn’t matter. At this point, there were other queens around them almost 24 hours a day, not to mention cameras and microphones recording their every move. So this was definitely not the time nor the place to have some soul searching heart stopping realization about feelings he may or may not harbor for Thorgy motherfucking Thor.

The show was a pressure cooker. The producers moved them through the day at breakneck speed only to put them somewhere to wait while they repositioned cameras or lights until everyone’s sanity was in question. Honestly, it was a lot but it was fun. Jamin was prepared and felt confident he could deliver on the runway if nowhere else.

Case in point, the first challenge. The dress he constructed was gorgeous, creative, and most of all left everyone gagging.  When it was all said and done, Jamin was in the top two with praise from the judges and a great start to the competition.

When everything finally wrapped up that day the queens were all waiting for the vans to take them back to their hotel. Technically, they weren’t supposed to be interacting but everyone was buzzing with the fact they made it through the first challenge.

Jamin was talking with Bob about that hideously fabulous purse he made when he felt a distinctly pointed chin land on his shoulder.

“Congratulations, Betty! That dress was amazing!” Shane’s breath was way too close to Jamin’s ear making him shiver involuntarily. Shane didn’t comment on it. Just quickly squeezed his shoulders and moved around to stand beside Bob.

“What about my dress, Thorg? I was serving you newly-single-mom-on-a-budget-at-Wal-Mart realness!”

Shane practically rolled his eyes to the back of his head, “It was a beautiful garment made out of curtains, Bob.”

Bob grabbed him and kissed him on both cheeks, “Bless you, my clown child.”

“Get the fuck off of me, bitch” Shane said through a laugh, slapping at him. Bob skipped away chuckling, leaving Shane and Jamin semi alone for the first time since they arrived.

“We’ve been around each other for days and I haven’t gotten the chance to ask how you’ve been the last couple of months.”

“Busy as always, girl!”

Jamin really tried to stop what came out of his mouth next. He really did. It wasn’t his business.

What or who Shane did was absolutely none of his business and he tried to tell himself that. But it didn’t exactly work.

“How’s Sam?”

Shane looked perplexed for half a second, “Who?”

“Sam. Your boyfriend. You introduced me to him the last time I saw you.”

“Oh! Sam! I guess he’s good. I wouldn’t know. We only hooked up a few times and left it at that. There was no chemistry, you know what I mean?  Definitely not my boyfriend.”

Well, then. Those homicidal fantasies seem a bit like overkill in hindsight. “Yeah. I know what you mean. Like us?” Jamin wasn’t sure what possessed him to bring that up in the middle of this Stress Circus but he did. So that’s that.

Shane tilted his head and looked at Jamin like he had grown a foot out of the side of his face.

“No. Absolutely nothing like us.”

Fuck.

“Jamin, do you reall-” but he never got the chance to hear the rest of that sentence. The vans pulled up with the worst timing in the history of the universe. Shane just gave him half of a smile and squeezed his hand. The whole time the PAs were corralling them into the vehicles Shane kept stealing glances at Jamin. It was unnerving in the best way possible.

*

Jamin knew Thorgy would do amazingly well. He wasn’t lying when he told Shane that he deserved to be on this show. They even got to work together in most of the group challenges which didn’t help the annoying ache starting to develop every time he was in close contact with him.

Obviously, the two had history but he could count the times they had been around each other without sex being involved on one hand. The addition of clothes and lack of lust made it all too clear that Shane was someone he wanted to get to know on a real level. With this realization, Jamin started noticing little things about Shane through the haze of glitter and runway lights.

First, Shane was fucking adorable. That’s not a word Jamin usually used to describe people or really anything for that matter but it fit in this situation. There was the way his eyes scrunched behind those Harry Potter glasses when he smiled. The way he almost knocked out whoever he was talking to with his hands. The way he genuinely gets excited about anything and everything. Finding Jamin’s eyes first after any announcement in the workroom to share in his enthusiasm, or at least that’s what he tells himself.  Shane is a six foot tall grown ass man but Jamin wants to stick him in his pocket to protect him and hiss at anyone who would do him harm.

Second, Shane was a huge flirt. Jamin knew that on some level but with this new clarity of what his feelings towards him actually were it became much more acute. The man had absolutely no shame in staring at Laila’s ass and telling Laila she had a nice ass and smacking said ass and giggling repeatedly about Laila’s reaction. Jamin knew, intimately, that he couldn’t resist a nice butt. He couldn’t sit properly at work for almost two days after Shane realized that wasn’t padding under all of Betty’s dresses. The thought of someone else getting all of Shane’s attention was confusingly infuriating.

Third, Shane was super fucking in his head. About everything. All of the time. This was an observation that was a bit more concerning. He truly was a Gemini in every sense of the word. Jamin could tell Shane knew he was talented. He had confidence and wasn’t afraid to go for what he wanted. On the flip side, he stressed about everything. Shane worried about getting every beat of his verse in Bitch Perfect absolutely in sync, which of course he did. It looked like he was actually fucking singing.  It should have made Jamin mad because they were competing against each other but he was just so proud of him.

Shane ran Naysha through the choreography for the Empire challenge so many times Jamin was pretty sure everyone on their team could do it blindfolded. Even after he received nothing but praise from the judges, he knew it bothered him that he didn’t win. They de-dragged next to each other and Shane spent the entire time wondering out loud what he could have done differently. Jamin finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to try to make him see what everyone else was seeing.

“Thorgy they loved you. This is a marathon, not a sprint. What matters is winning when it counts. You just have to do well enough to make it to the end.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry for unloading all of this on you. I should keep the voices in my head where they belong.”

Jamin gently touched his shoulder to get his attention. “There are worse things than unloading on a friend. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling but don’t let it get in the way of what everyone else is trying to tell you.”

Shane had stopped fussing with his tights and padding and was staring at Jamin. It looked like he wanted to say something but looked around and stopped himself. He touched the hand sitting on his shoulder and nodded instead.

Jamin smiled, nodded, and cleared his throat, “And stop talking about my friend Thorgy like that, bitch.”

Shane cackled and threw his hip pads at Jamin’s head.

Team NYC got to work together for the New Wave challenge. It all seemed like a good idea at the beginning but Jamin quickly realized putting personalities like Bob and Thorgy together could be fucking amazing or result in the show’s first triple elimination. By dinner break that night, everyone was exhausted. They had finally gotten lyrics written, recorded their track, and started on some choreography. The queens were all sitting around chatting about their favorite meals back home. Jamin looked up to find Shane’s eyes in commiseration because if he heard ChiChi talk about turkey necks one more time he was going to scream.

But Shane wasn’t sitting around the table with everyone, which was so unlike him Jamin got a bit worried. He was off to the side at a table by himself with his headphones in picking at a burrito bowl. If he knows Shane at all, he knows he is sitting over there dwelling on every little thing he did today that could be perceived as a mistake. Well, that wouldn’t do.

Jamin knows Shane only had a yogurt for breakfast and no lunch, claiming he was “too deep in the artistic process” to take a break. He couldn’t do much about turning off the voices in Shane’s head but he could make sure he had something in his stomach.

Jamin snagged a packet of those crumbly goddamn granola bars from the craft service cart that Shane liked so much and made his way over.

He sat down on the stool beside of him and bumped his shoulder. “Hey what did that chicken ever do to you?”

Shane looked down and seemed surprised he had shredded his chicken beyond recognition. He took out one of his earbuds and cracked half of a smile. “He knows what he did.”

Jamin laughed and tossed the granola bars in Shane’s lap. “Here. At least eat these. I don’t want you passing out while we’re trying to learn our number.”

“I’m really too worried to eat. I think Bob hates me. I’m going to be on a team that completely fucking bombs a music challenge. Me! Music! Losing! That headpiece needs to be repainted because it just looks, I don’t know. Off? My knees are killing me and-”

“Wow, Thorgles. How does that all fit in your head? Bob doesn’t hate you. He’s just really fucking annoyed with you right now and I think it’s safe to say the feeling is mutual.”

“You got that right.”

“And I take offense to the fact that you think we are going to bomb this music challenge. We’re Team NYC! We got this! And oh my sweet baby Jesus if you redo that headpiece one more time I’m going to stick it up your ass.”

“I might like that.”

Jamin chuckled, “You probably would. For real though, I know you’re probably too keyed up to eat and it really is up to you but try to eat something, please.”

Jamin had never seen someone tear open a package more aggressively than Shane in that moment.

“You better be glad you were just really fucking sweet to me”

Shane laid his head on Jamin’s shoulder and offered him the other ear bud. “Do you want to listen to the song with me a couple of more times?”

“As long as you don’t get crumbs all over me.”

Shane took an obnoxiously big bite of his snack making pieces of granola fly everywhere. “I make no such promises.”

“Asshole.” Jamin put the earbud in and smiled.

Their team ended up killing the performance. Betty was safe but it was close. He thanks the old gods and the new for his ability to change species. Of course, Thorgy was in the top yet again and yet again Jamin was surprised at the swelling affection and pride he felt for his friend.

When they finally made it back to the hotel and were waiting for the elevator to take them to their rooms for the night, Shane leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Thank you for last night. It helped me get out of my head even if it was just for a little while.”

“Anytime. It was nothing.”

Shane shook his head and kissed Jamin’s cheek, “It was everything.”

*

Jamin getting eliminated was a definite buzzkill. His flight back to New York didn’t leave until early the next morning. He decided he was going to order a pizza and watch some shitty Desperate Hoarding Housewives of American Pickers marathon before passing out face down in a lumpy hotel mattress.

While he was finishing up his second slice and contemplating just what made someone want to save 257 decapitated dolls, Jamin thought he heard someone knocking on his door. If that PA was here to harass him about packing again he was gonna scream.

But it was not a PA.

Or it wasn’t only a PA.

Shane was standing there looking nervous as hell with the piece of tape from Jamin’s door hanging from his hand. Standing beside of him was an even more nervous PA hold the roll. Eric…maybe? Honestly, it’s hard to tell them apart.

“Can I come in or are you going to get me sent home too?”

Jamin picked his jaw up off the floor and pulled the door open to let Shane through “Of course. Sure, yeah come in”

Eric chose this time to find his voice “I think I can give you 15 minutes. Just listen for the knock, Thorg”

Shane didn’t even turn around when he nodded and launched himself at Jamin before the door was even completely closed.

The hug felt like fucking coming home. Jamin buried his nose in the fabric of Shane’s shirt and breathed and his whole body came alive.

“How in the hell are you even here right now?”

“Sometimes it pays to be nice to people”

“Oh does it. I’ve nev…”

But that was apparently all Shane cared to hear about the subject because he closed the distance between them and dropped his forehead down to meet Jamin’s.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me alone with these bitches.”

Jamin thought he felt wetness fall on the front of his t-shirt but when he tried to look up Shane was too close to focus on and anyway what he said next made it hard to think about anything other than what the fuck he was going to do without seeing this beautiful man every day.

“I am going to miss you so fucking much.”

And all Jamin could think of in response was to use his death grip on the back of Shane’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. It had been too long.

Shane immediately deepened the kiss, licking at the seam of Jamin’s lips. There were few things in the world Jamin liked more than making out with him. It was somehow familiar and brand new all at once but when he had imagined kissing Shane again, it did not usually include the taste of their tears.

Jamin pulled away forcing Shane to look at him.

“Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” Shane sucked in a deep breath, centering himself and seemingly coming to some sort of decision. “I know. We only have like 10 minutes so just shut up and let me send you home with a proper goodbye.”

And at that point he was done talking.

Shane walked Jamin backwards toward the bed while taking off his shirt. Jamin hit the mattress and sat down hard watching Shane drop to his knees.

The thought of what was coming had Jamin tenting his sweatpants and Shane hadn’t even touched him. Shane pulled him in for a quick kiss and reached for his waistband pulling both pants and underwear down and off in one quick motion.

Shane kissed his way down Jamin’s neck and chest, biting at his collarbone and sucking a bruise above his heart.

And you know what? Good.

He wanted something beautiful to look at tomorrow.

Shane ran his hands down his sides and over the V low on his waist and Jamin shivered, gooseflesh popping up everywhere he touched.

He took Jamin’s cock in his hand and used his thumb to spread the moisture already gathered there. Shane licked his lips and moaned moving his hand to the base and using his tongue to lick up the vein on the underside.

Jamin’s strangled cry was much louder than he anticipated and he prayed that Eric had moved further down the hall or he was going to get one hell of an earful. He gathered dreads in his hands moving them out of the way and looked down to find Shane’s eyes already searching for his.

Not breaking eye contact, Shane slowly stroked from root to tip and sucked just the head of Jamin’s cock into his mouth moving his tongue over the little ridge on the underside knowing how much that would turn him on.

And of course it did.

“Fuck, Shane,” Jamin whispered as he took him into his mouth fully. Shane’s mouth met his hand at the base and sucked all the way back up repeating the motion until Jamin was having a hard time not bucking into his mouth. Shane squeezed his thigh, moved his hand, and gave a slight nod and that was all the permission Jamin needed. He used his grip on Shane’s hair thrust up into his mouth and he felt Shane moan around him.

That mouth is a fucking sin. How did live so long without it? No one should be able to bring someone to a babbling incoherent  mess with just their mouth. And he definitely was. Jamin was thrusting shallowly into the tight wetness and of course Shane was taking it and then some.

Shane put his free hands to good use, gently squeezing and tugging at Jamin’s balls until he was way too close too soon. He didn’t want this to end but everything tightened and his breath grew increasingly short.

The headboard was knocking against the wall but that didn’t make sense and then he heard a distinct whisper scream.

“Um, Thorg? Hurry up! Mike will be back any minute and I..”

Seriously?! Jamin had zero time for this at the moment. “FUCK YOU ERIC!”

Jamin felt slightly bad about screaming at the man making this possible but who the fuck cares right now? He could hear Shane’s moans and it turned him on to no fucking end to know this was something Shane needed and that he wanted and that he risked so much to do.

“Ohhhh. Fuck! Sh-Shane I’m gonna come,” said Jamin on a gasping breath.

Shane’s only response was to grab Jamin’s hips flicking at his tip with his tongue and then sucking hard , doubling down on the fierce pace of his hand.

And fuck. How was he supposed to hang on after that?

Jamin came with a strangled moan, jerking into the wet heat of Shane’s mouth.

After what seemed like hours, he took a deep  breath and looked down finding Shane grinning with his head leaning on his thigh.

“Hi.”

“Hi, honey.”

Shane giggled and kissed every part of Jamin he could reach on the way up to his lips. It was such a fucking turn on to suck his tongue into his mouth and taste himself. He pulled the younger man into his lap fully clothed and could feel Shane’s erection pressing into his belly.  Jamin snuck his hand between them and into Shane’s pants. He felt himself start to harden again at the sound Shane made when he wrapped his hand around his cock.

Shane broke away from Jamin with a gasp, “I don’t think we have time for that.”

“Well. I don’t think it’s very fair.” Jamin whispered in Shane’s ear, “What about you?.”

Eric knocked on the door quietly but forcefully. “Guys we really need to get a move on.”

Shane whined a little and shook his head, “No. This was for you. It looks like I’m just going to have to take care of this in the shower later,” He reached down and squeezed what he could reach, “thinking of all the things I could do to that gorgeous ass. I’ll be all wet and soapy and moaning your na-”

Jamin cut him off with a searing kiss, stealing both of their breaths but Shane broke away quickly scrambling out of Jamin’s lap and tossing him his sweatpants.

“Cover up before I take advantage of you all over again. Oh, and this is mine now. You’re never getting it back.” Shane picked up the shirt Jamin had been wearing and threw it over his shoulder.

Jamin shook his head and stood up pulling on his sweat pants. He reached out and laced their fingers together bringing Shane’s hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles. “I really don’t want you to go but I think you should before that PA has a stroke.”

Shane followed Jamin to the door laughing. They stopped for one last hug. Shane mumbled into Jamin’s neck “I expect some one-on-one time when we are both back home.”

Jamin kissed his temple and pulled back opening the door and winking, “I’ll try to pencil you into my busy schedule but I think it will be a while before you get back. You got this Thorgy, don’t let them get to you.”

Shane smiled and shimmied his shoulders before hurrying down the hall to his room.

Eric was standing there with the tape all ready to go.

“Thanks for doing this, man. I really appreciate it.”

“It seemed really important to Thorgy. So, I figured it was worth it. I hope you know what you have there.”

“I think I’m starting to figure it out.”