#and like they are all working together as unit

[lxndonorris]

home race - Oscar Piastri

Y/N x Oscar Piastri Theme: Smut (you've been warned) you're in a long-distance relationship with Oscar and surprise him at his "home race" x word count: 3250+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :) EN: Another big piece and I hope you'll like it. My first time writing Oscar.

You sat in your living room, staring at your phone. The screen displayed a countdown timer you set months ago when you and Oscar, your boyfriend, decided you could handle a long-distance relationship.

Living in the United States while dating a Formula 1 driver based in Europe wasn't easy, but the two of you made it work. You spoke every day, sent each other thoughtful gifts, and cherished the moments you could spend together in person.

The countdown finally hit zero. It is time for your big surprise.

Oscar is in Monaco for the Grand Prix, and you planned to surprise him for months since the season started. You told him you wouldn't be able to make it due to work commitments, but in reality, you managed to arrange everything perfectly, with a little help from the Mclaren Team.

You had your flights booked, your accommodation sorted, and a special pass that would allow you into the Mclaren motorhome, where Oscar would eventually be.

When you boarded your flight, you felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. You knew how much this surprise would mean to Oscar. The past few months have been challenging for him, dealing with the pressures of being a professional F! driver while missing you. You wanted to make this moment unforgettable.

After a long flight and a quick check-in at your hotel in Monaco, you head straight to the racetrack. You are wearing a Mclaren team hoodie, jeans, and a fitting cap, blending in with the team. You find your way to the motorhome and, with the help of a team member who is in on the surprise, get inside and wait for Oscar.

The atmosphere in Monaco is electric. The sun shines brightly over the azure waters of the Mediterranean, and the roar of engines echoes through the narrow streets of the city. The Monaco Grand Prix is one of the most prestigious races on the calendar, and the excitement is palpable.

The qualifying session just ends, and he pushes his car to the limit and secures second place on the grid. The team is ecstatic, and Oscar feels a rush of adrenaline as he climbs out of the car, waving to the cheering fans. 

Inside the motorhome, your heart races as you finally hear footsteps approaching. The door opens, and you turn around to see Oscar standing there, a look of shock and disbelief on his face.

"Y/N? Is that really you?" Oscar's voice trembles with emotion.

You smile, your eyes filling with tears.

"Surprise!"

Oscar closes the distance between you in an instant, wrapping you in a tight embrace. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling your familiar scent, and holds you as if he never wants to let go.

At the same time, the faint scent of him swirls around you, and with a deep breath, you take it in, closing your eyes for a second to relish in this moment.

"What are you doing here?" He murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't believe you're here."

"I wanted to be here for you, at your home race." You say softly. "I've missed you so much, Oscar Piastri Leclerc."

Both of you pull back slightly to look at each other, your eyes meeting with an intensity that speaks volumes. Oscar cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that escape down your cheeks.

"I've missed you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine."

You kiss—a tender and passionate kiss that seems to make up for all the time you spent apart. 

When you finally break apart, Oscar can't stop smiling.

"You look amazing in that Mclaren gear," he says, his eyes roaming all over you as they sparkle with admiration.

You chuckle, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I have to show my support for my favorite driver."

As you stand facing each other, the air between you seems to be charged with electricity. You feel the tension and excitement from qualifying still radiating off Oscar. 

Tentatively, you reach out, letting your hand run across his firm chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heaving chest beneath your fingertips. His whole body is slightly tensed, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush.

Oscar's eyes soften as he looks at you, a smile spreading across his lips.

"It's so good to see you," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

You smile back, your gaze drifting over his racing suit. "You look so good in that green and yellow racing suit, Oscar. Really, you do. It suits you perfectly."

The special suit, designed to honor Senna, clings to his frame in all the right ways, accentuating his athletic build. The vibrant colors contrast beautifully with his complexion, making him look every bit the star he is.

Oscar chuckles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Thanks. I didn't think I could pull off these colors, but hearing it from you makes me believe it."

Your fingers linger on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. "I missed you so much," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. 

As your hand continues to stroke his chest, you feel Oscar's hands move to your waist, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your jeans. He pulls you slightly closer; your bodies now mere inches apart. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter.

"Do you have some free time?" You ask, your voice soft and teasing, eyes glimmering with anticipation.

Oscar smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. "For you? Always."

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile, your hand moving up to his shoulder. "Good." You breathe deeply, feeling the tension between you increase even more. "Because I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

Unable to resist any longer, you lean in and kiss him passionately. The moment your lips meet, Oscar melts into the kiss, his arms tightening around your waist. The warmth and familiarity of the embrace make everything else disappear, leaving just the two of you in your own private world.

As the kiss deepens, you steady yourself against his firm chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. His hum of approval sends a thrill through you, and you take your time, savoring the moment, relishing the closeness you missed for far too long.

With a teasing glint in your eye, you reach for the zipper of his racing suit. Slowly, you begin to unzip it, feeling the resistance of the fabric give way. Oscar's breath hitches as you draw the zipper down to his tummy, exposing his tight black fireproofs beneath.

You let your hands slip inside, and stroke his chest. "You look so good," you murmur, your hands resting on the exposed fabric. The smooth, taut material hugs his body, accentuating his toned muscles.

Oscar's eyes darken with desire as he looks at your hands running across his chest, a mixture of amusement and longing playing on his features. "You're making it very hard to concentrate," he says, his voice low and husky.

You chuckle softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his fireproofs. "Good," you whisper, leaning in for another kiss. 

This time, it is slower, more deliberate; each touch and caress a reminder of the desire crackling between you.

As your kisses grow more intense, you feel the heat rising between your bodies. Oscar's hands roam over your back, pulling you even closer, as if he can't bear to let you go.

With your hands still roaming over his chest, you draw a line down to his abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips. Each touch elicits several low growls from deep inside his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. As you continue your exploration, Oscar leans his head back, his eyes closing as he savors the sensation.

You decide to take things a step further. 

"Let me help you." You breathe deeply, gently pushing the upper half of his suit off his shoulders. 

Oscar obliges, his breath hitching as you peel the fabric away, revealing more of his muscular torso. The sleeves hang down from his waist, the tight fireproofs beneath barely able to contain the immense tension building inside him.

His muscles bulge with each movement, with each breath he takes, the strain and excitement of the day evident in every contour of his body. You can't help but admire him, your hands now tracing the lines of his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin.

Oscar opens his eyes and looks at you, his gaze filled with desire and affection. "You're driving me crazy," he growls, his voice rough with need.

You smile with a playful glint in your eye. "Flex for me." You reply, your fingers continuing their journey across his entire upper body.

With a mischievous grin, Oscar obliges again, flexing his arms and chest, showcasing the impressive muscles that have been honed through countless hours of training. The sight makes your heart skip a beat; a rush of admiration and desire floods through you.

"Like what you see?" he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you let your hands roam over his flexed muscles. "You have no idea," you reply, your voice filled with genuine awe.

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling from deep inside his chest. "I'm just glad you're here to see it."

One of your hands traces the contours of his biceps, feeling the power and strength beneath your fingers, while you let your other hand roam freely across his chest and even further down to his crotch.

You feel his hunger building up inside his pants; the fabric bulges just along his member tenting visibly. With two fingers, you trace the tangible outlines of his lust again and again, eliciting more and more deep growls from his throat.

Oscar is thoroughly enjoying himself, responding to your teasing with a mixture of laughter and passion. You see the gleam in his eyes, the way he savors every touch and caress. 

Then, with a bold move, you slip one of your hands underneath his fireproofs, feeling the intense heat of his skin radiating against your palm.

Oscar's breath hitches at the sensation, his eyes so dark with desire. With a swift motion, he swipes the Mclaren cap from your head and lets it drop to the floor. A playful chuckle escapes his lips as he leans in, capturing your mouth in a deep, fervent kiss.

The kiss is electric, filled with a hunger that threatens to consume you both—the long separation and the yearning that built up between you. Your fingers splay across his warm skin, feeling the hard lines of his muscles beneath your fingertips. 

Oscar's hands roam over your back again, pulling you closer, before he takes the lead, guiding you through the room and across a huge empty wall. Gently, your back meets the wall, steadying the two of you fully. 

You feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, fast and powerful, matching your own. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you locked in your passionate embrace.

His hands are now all over your chest, his touch both soft and possessive. Each caress sends waves of electricity through you, making your pulse race as far as his race car.

Oscar's kisses trail down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in their wake. His lips are gentle yet insistent, making a path that sets your skin on fire. The sensation is almost overwhelming—a perfect blend of tenderness and desire that makes your heart swell with emotion.

Amidst your intimate moment, you take in Oscar's familiar scent, a comforting aroma that envelopes you in a sense of security and belonging—a mixture of his cologne, mingled with the faint trace of adrenaline from the day's events, and the subtle hint of his natural scent.

Breathing him in, you feel a wave of warmth wash over you, and his scent is like a familiar embrace, making it even harder to concentrate.

Now, his hands slide underneath your hoodie, his fingertips dancing across your skin. You shiver at the sensation, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The contrast of his warm hands against the cool evening air heightens your senses, making every touch feel even more intense.

"You're amazing." Oscar breathes against your neck, his voice rough with emotion. "I need you."

Your breath hitches, your hands grip his shoulders for support as you tilt your head back, giving him better access. "Oscar," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and affection.

His hands roam freely now, exploring every inch of your torso with a reverent touch. You feel the strength and control in his fingers, the way he holds you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You arch into his touch, your own hands exploring the hard planes of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. The fabric of his fireproofs is smooth and cool against your palms, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"Oscar." You murmur again, your voice barely audible as you revel in the sensations he is creating. "I need you, too."

He lifts his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

"I'm right here," he replies, his voice steady yet husky.

Licking your lips in anticipation, you let out a long, exhausted sigh. At the same time, you feel one of his hands make its way down your chest and right to your jeans. In one swift motion, he unbuttons it, just to make way for his hand to slip inside.

Your breath hitches right away as you feel his fingers tracing patterns in all the right places.

Even though it's hard to keep your composure, you manage to return the favor, letting one of your hands run down his back, along his spine, around his waist, and between his legs.

As you touch him, Oscar lets out a low, primal groan, the culmination of all the teasing and desire building up between them. His response sends a thrill through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

The tension is palpable; both of you are aching for a release, craving the other's touch.

Together, you help each other undress just enough to make it work. Panting and growling, he tugs at your jeans until they are sliding down to your ankles, so his hands stroke your thighs delicately.

Then, it's your turn to help him. Pulling at the suit clinging to his skin, the two of you manage to pull his length out of his pants, just for you to hold it and play with it.

Exhausted, Oscar leans in, kissing you passionately. You melt into him, offering yourself for what's to come next.

The moment he slides inside your body, it sparks a tingling sensation inside your stomach, and you let out a low grunt. Simultaneously, he moans right into your mouth, making it even harder to keep a straight face.

He is the first to take the lead again.

With your back against the wall, he begins to grind his hips against yours, rhythmically, sensually, and it is easy for you to catch up. The two of you move in sync with one another, letting out low growls, moans, and grunts.

Your hands wander all over his chest, stroking him through his firerpoofs. Oscar's breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. 

The sensation of your touch through the fabric sends waves of heat through him, encouraging him to increase the pace and strength of his thrusts. In return, he steadies himself against the wall behind you while his other hand lingers on your breasts.

Your movements are slow and deliberate; you are fully aware of his most sensitive spots, and you encourage him more and more. Pinching his nipples, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs, and feeling his muscles bulge harder and hader.

Panting and moaning, Oscar's body grows stiff and rigid; unable to contain himself, he bites his lower lip before he grunts angrily.

"Fuck."

You revel in the power you have over him and the way he responds so intensely to your touch.

With each stroke, you feel him growing even more aroused, his body still tightening instinctively to your touch. His hands grip your breasts tighter, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

The two of you move as one; every thrust sends you closer and closer to the edge, and the way he grunts deeply tells you he feels the same.

As you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, you know there is no turning back. Your passion burns bright, consuming you both in a whirlwind of sensation and emotion.

With one final, heavy thrust, both of you let go of all that pressure and tension and scream out in ecstasy.

Several exhausted moans leave Oscar's lips, and he leans forward, grateful for the wall steadying him. At the same time, you lean your head back, moaning deeply.

You rest your head against his shoulder, swallowing hard. His body embraces yours right away; his firm shoulder is the perfect place right now.

Out of breath, the two of you barely regain your composure before you lock eyes again, both of you smiling contently.

"That was so good." He moans, exhausted, before he leans in, kissing you deeply.

"Oscar." You breathe into him, kissing him back.

After your passionate moment, you share another tender smile, your hearts still racing with the intensity of your connection. 

With gentle touches and soft kisses, you help each other get dressed again, your movements slow and deliberate again.

As you adjust the sleeves of his fireproofs, you look up at Oscar, your eyes filled with affection. "You were amazing today," you say, your voice filled with pride. "I am so proud of you."

Oscar smiles back, his expression softening. "I am so glad you are here." He replies, his voice tinged with gratitude.

As he begins to change into fresh clothes, you watch him closely, unable to tear your eyes away. 

Oscar moves with natural grace; every movement is fluid and confident. You can't help but admire the way his muscles shift beneath his skin as he removes his racing suit and tight firerpoofs.

He catches your gaze, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Sensing your admiration, he makes a little show out of changing, exaggerating his movements slightly as he slips out of his fireproofs and into a fresh pair of underwear you hand him.

You laught at his antics, enjoining the playful side of him that he reserves just for you. As you pull on the pair of jeans and the Mclaren shirt, you feel a surge of affection for him, admiring the way he looks in the team gear.

"You look amazing." You say. "But then again, you always do."

Oscar grins, his eyes shining brightly. "I have to look my best, especially with you around." He replies, his tone teasing.

With a final adjustment to his shirt, Oscar turns to you, his expression softening. "Thank you for being here," he says, his voice sincere. 

You reach out and place your hand on his chest again, gently stroking him once more. "I'll always be here for you." You reply. "No matter what."

[rassicas]

Hello Rassicas.

I am working on a video about Nintendo’s lgbtq characters. Of course when it comes to splatoon, there’s a certain duo that comes to mind, off the hook.

The problem I’ve been having is that it seems a lot of the information, wether that be the English/japanese bits of dialogue, interviews and other bits of lore, seems to be completely scattered around.

Considering you describe yourself as the “CEO of splatoon lore” I was wondering if you could help me compile any bits and pieces of those two gay cephalopods.

(My apologies if this is moreso something I should be asking in dms instead)

i think the ask box is a good place for this, i'm not as hardcore of a shipper as other people are (more of a worldbuilding enjoyer), but i know there is so much and I don't wanna dig for all of it. I'll share a few off the top of my head. pearlina fans reading this, please feel free to share anything else in the replies/reblogs. 1. Pearl interview from Octotune: its on my mind since i just brought it up in a previous ask I think the artwork in this interview has the strongest implication that pearl and marina live together. Also the question: Q17: What is the best gift you have ever received? Pearl: The chance to meet Marina. 2. Marina's manga, "Dear Pearl". a manga that, in-universe, is drawn by marina.

genuinely i think this is one of the gayest things there is in canon like theres hearts in that LOVE letter thats directed towards pearl COME ON (i consider it canon as its drawn by seita inoue, who handles splatoon's art direction and a lot of lore/worldbuilding). you can read it here

3. Marina's tagline on Splatoon Base calls her a 恋する乙女 "young lady in love". the word for 'to love' (恋する) is specifically romantic.

4. Off the Hook didn't fight against each other in the s2 final splatfest like the Squid Sisters did because they're on such good terms with each other.

I’ve heard people saying that since the final fest for the last game was a showdown between the Squid Sisters, this time it was bound to be between Off the Hook.

Nogami: I think that’s probably the obvious conclusion, but the development team don’t actually want those two to attack one another. Since the Squid Sisters have their own talents and abilities, even though they are a duo they are also kind of rivals, so we thought we would pit them against each other. Off the Hook, though, are much more of a unit and on good terms with one another, so we didn’t want to force them to fight.

5. Marina has a photo of pearl as her desktop wallpaper. the framing of the photo very much looks romantic and intimate. there is no heterosexual explanation for this

i'll stop here, there's definitely more and I don't wanna be here for hours. I haven't even touched on any in game dialogue. again guys feel free to make additions to this with sources. is there a pearlina masterdoc or something LOL i feel like thats something that deserves to exist (someone please make it because i wont)

[greatstormcat]

So those android!141 thoughts I mentioned yesterday…

It was a posting you’d been dreaming of for years, working on the highly prestigious TF141 project. It was the pride of the British military, a team of four state of the art androids owned and operated by the SAS and CIA in a joint project. Created to go to places no human could ever reach, achieve missions no human could ever hope to, in conditions that no human could endure. And when they got shot, blown up or damaged…? Well, someone like you would just piece them painstakingly back together.

What you hadn’t expected were the long, tedious waits between their operational periods. You were no soldier, just a technical specialist, so living on base was not your ideal situation. All the shouting and yelling of the people on base got to you, the crowds making you uncomfortable in the mess and highlighting how much you didn’t fit in. The quiet of the hanger where the 141 were housed for storage and maintenance became your default home eventually as no one bothered coming here.

It amused you that the four large, not quite human looking statues became your main companions, resting in the reclined docking pods that protected them and monitored their functions. They were not be activated until they were ready for their first exercise, so you spent time maintaining, improving and caring for them.

They looked so close to human, almost as though they were sleeping in the open fronted pods in their plain fatigues. You were told their features had been modelled on real soldiers from some point in time, each utterly unique in appearance so they could blend in with civilian populations. Their heights and builds were different, and the lead unit, B-06, had even been painstakingly given a beard. The simulated skin that covered them felt soft, not quite as soft as human skin but a good enough replication to fool anyone who didn’t know the difference.

You found yourself talking to them as you worked, telling them about something you’d read, or a show you’d watched as you went about your duties. It became a habit to explain to them what you were doing when you opened one of them up and made alterations to an internal part or another. Even at the end of the day, you said goodnight to the four figures, totally still and silent as they lay in their repose.

You put a suggestion forward that they should have names, to make it easier to move them through clandestine operations, and it doesn’t take much more to get the brass to agree. You receive files from Kate to update each android with a name and basic background, and who could really blame you for spicing up the programming with a few additional traits. So what did it matter if B-06, now know as John Price, likes cigars and single malt? Who would ever know that B-05, now Kyle Garrick, liked the colour blue? Programmers were always adding little Easter eggs to their work, why shouldn’t you do the same?

After a few quiet months, odd things began occurring. The feeling of being watched became a constant, which you put down to the security camera that were installed to protect the… assets. The word made you so uncomfortable. Then you began to catch movement from the corner of your eye, but saw nothing there and no one else in the room. Your nerves jangled, and you comforted yourself by talking to the boys, as you now called them.

On one occasion while working on the Kyle, connecting a data cable to a port beneath his dark, curled hair, you swear his full lips had twitched while you chattered away, pulling on the little scar below his left eye. You sat back and stared at him carefully, watching for any other sign of movement in his features. On a whim you trailed your fingertips along the inside of his forearm, down towards his palm. What you hadn’t expected was him to grab your wrist as you touched his palm. Your breath left you in a whoosh and you sprang back, startled, but he lay in his pod utterly unmoving and eyes shut. The moment crawled on, but nothing else happened, and you forced yourself to go back over to the machine, convincing yourself it was a power surge.

When the call came from Laswell to prepare them for a training exercise with a team of US Marines she was bringing, you were so excited. You began prep immediately, running diagnostics and telling them what was going to be happening, that they’d get to show off their stuff and you’d be so proud to finally see them in action.

The morning arrives to wake them up…. No, that wasn’t right. You were activating them, you remind yourself, these aren’t people. They are machines, but what did it hurt to treat them with respect and dignity, really?

“Right boys, it’s time to rise and shine,” you announce as you carry a cup of coffee into the hanger with you, smiling happily. “You need to show those Marines exactly what you can do today, prove just how great you are.”

You busy yourself with switching on the various terminals, lost in scrolling commands and data. You don’t hear Price move from his docking pod and move over to you, you don't notice him until he touches your shoulder and rumbles into your ear with a deep voice.

“Good morning to you too.”

Your coffee spills from your hand to the concrete floor as you spin, spluttering with terror.

“What are you doing? How… why are you…?!” words tumble from your lips and eyes go wide as you gawp at the huge man-shaped machine standing so close you are pinned against the desk.

“You said it was time to wake up,” he… it smiles, blue eyes looking over your face carefully.

“I… I didn’t type the command to wake you up though,” you hiss.

“You didn’t need to, I heard you,” he answers, as though explaining something obvious you should understand.

“That doesn’t make sense though,” you insist, “you were… off.”

“Huh, what good am I if I’m not aware of what’s going on?” he grins, leaning closer, planting his hands on either side of you on the desk behind you. Trapping you. With a jolt you notice the others are all quietly climbing from their pods unbidden, eyes focused on you and Price.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” you whisper, keenly aware that your job and entire career could be in jeopardy if this project fails, a tiny voice also suggesting you could be in danger.

“Things change, especially when the operation needs it,” Simon announces as he walks closer, taller than all of the others by far, and looms over Price’s shoulder.

“What’s going on? Who gave the order to activate them?” Laswell’s voice cuts through the tension like a whip, but all four androids remain focused on you. Price gives you an expectant look, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

“I… I…. was running a diagnostic and… woke them up,” you lie to Laswell, glancing briefly towards the blonde woman as she nears.

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you waited in future,” she grumbles. Price finally steps back, looking somehow smug at your subterfuge, keeping his body between you and Laswell as he turns to her and nods.

“Laswell,” he says simply, and she eyes him with beaming pride. All she sees are the four mechanised soldiers that serve her purpose, she doesn’t understand they shouldn’t be able to decide to activate themselves.

“This is going to be interesting,” she says to you, and your stomach churns. She doesn’t seem to care or notice that the four machines are behaving in too human a manner.

[poppy-metal]

i wanna be the reason arttashi find their fire again. like i wanna be the one they lust over together and it’s what unites them <3333

you would be so oblivious. they start going on dates again but you dont even notice because they take you along, and you're just happy to hang out with them outside of working around the house and babysitting - dont notice how they're basically wine and dining you the way they pay for your dinner, get you ice cream after, art even buys you a little trinket he saw you eyeing from a store window.

these outings happen alot more frequently with trips to the movies - one you mentioned being excited to see, and you're always in the middle, and maybe you should think its strange but you dont. you're just happy that tashi lets art steal some of your junk food and when you come out later and its cold she lets you have her jacket and its warm and smells like her all sophisticated and lovely and you fall asleep with it that night, not knowing that when tashi rides art in their bed she's digging her nails into his chest and bouncing on his cock with a ferocity she hasn't had in their lovemaking for years, and art is looking up at her in slack jawed awe and tashi smiles, grinds her hips down, says, "you gonna let her fuck you like this? no, you'll probably be the one - making her take you. i can see it, she wants you to bruise her fucking cervix with this cock."

art bites her shoulder when he cums.

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Five

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Omg… I survived finals and all those unit exams. So here is chapter five after a long wait lol. It’s also a longish chapter because you guys are nice and deserve it.

Word Count: ~6.2k

Find: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Enjoy!

Day Eight - Christmas Day, 1970

Angus had retreated to the auditorium once again. He supposed he did so because it reminded him of simpler times. Like when he was nine and his biggest worry was if he would mess up on the sonata he was playing in front of his piano teacher. All because he could feel you in the other room, waiting for him to be done.

He was playing aimlessly and with no particular tune in mind. He just let his fingers glide wherever he felt like. It felt different to be there during the daylight, almost illegal. When he heard the creak of the auditorium doors, he had thought he had been caught. But it was just you, carrying that lavender plant you seemed to be so fond of. You held your potted plant close to your chest and walked up to the stage. He stopped playing to watch you and smiled a little at the sight.

“I kept my promise,” you show off the plant you had improvised decorations with. Little ribbons used for your hair are used as tinsel. There are small pieces of balled up color paper with a paperclip through them that work as ornaments. He could tell you tried not to be overzealous, trying to keep the plant from collapsing from the weight. You place the lavender on the piano and take a seat next to him.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he says back.

You sigh, “Weird party.”

“Yeah. Very weird.”

“I hope Marys alright.”

“Me too,” he sniffs.

He sees you pause to fix your hair. It sits unruly on you, and he can tell you just rolled out of bed. You still look beautiful.

“Um. You never answered my question. Last night…”

He stiffens, “Oh well. You didn’t either.”

You pressed your lips together, “So did you?”

“Did I what?”

You roll your eyes, “Did you feel, I don't know… Did you care? About Joseph?”

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes, “I don’t care about Joseph.”

“Okay. Fine. Then did you care about seeing me with him.”

Angus swallows thickly. He tries to find that sudden rush he felt during the party. The rush that had him so close to just reaching out to hold your cheeks in his hands and collide your lips into his.

He finds the rush in the way you squeeze his hand, encouraging him to continue.

“Yeah, I was jealous,” he prays you won't rip your hand away from his. “Because I care about everything you do.”

You smile and almost look pleased. “I was… a bit too,” you admit, avoiding the word and tugging at the sleeves of your sweater.

Because you think of me that way too, because you think of me that way too, Angus chants in his head like a mantra.

“Because we’re friends?” You cross your arms and hug yourself tightly, gazing up at him through your lashes.

He thinks now that the rush must have been beaten into silence because his mouth stays close, unable to argue back.

“Yeah. ‘Cause we’re friends,” he nods affirmatively, although he has to pinch the side of his thigh to stop himself from crying. He drowns out the ache in his chest and turns into a physical manifestation. There are glass marbles running wild in his head, and they crash against it like a steel floor. They shatter into little bits and prick his mind, berating him for being so stupid, for falling into Elises false optimism, and believing for a second that anything he ever felt would be reciprocated.

A small sigh slips past your lips and Angus suspects it must have been out of relief. He pinches himself harder.

“It all felt like deja vu don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” An odd sound emerges from his throat.

“You and me, begging one another to not be replaced. We’re still the same as when we were fourteen.”

Still the same as we were. The words echoed around, bouncing off the walls of Barton. He can settle with being friends for the rest of his life, as long as it meant he kept having you. If he had to watch you be with someone else, he would suck it up. Like sinking his teeth into a slice of lime without wincing.

He would be fine with you treating him like a wildflower in your garden. He would come around each year, and grow over your tulips, competing for your attention. Practically shouting at you to deal with him. He could wither but come back year-round when you needed him the most. You could harvest him, prune him, press his petals against pages.

The point is you would need him as much as he needs you. …

Paul Huham woke up sick, but not in the way he had expected. He had expected a grinding headache and incredible vertigo. And after five glasses of Jim Beams, he also expected to slip on the ice of the sidewalk as he led Mary to the Nova last night. But he supposed that by now he must have built some sort of tolerance towards it.

Instead, this morning he felt void. He was completely depleted and unable to take his mind off what Miss Crane had said to him at the Christmas party. Mary’s words had definitely brought him back to earth. And although the night had ended… oddly, he still realized that what the two women had said was right.

Angus and Y/n were just kids. Nearly adults in terms of age sure, but still immature and sharing the behavior of one, nonetheless. Miss L/n undoubtedly seemed to deserve a proper celebration. It would be as a thank you of sorts for her ability to rein Mr. Tully in. And Angus Tully needed a moment of distraction from the treacheries of the holiday season. Paul could certainly relate to that.

So, with a groan, he got out of bed. He walked quickly to the bathroom to get his feet off the cold floor and get changed. Afterwards, he went to check in on them in their room.

He saw Y/n buried underneath two blankets. He could barely see her face and it was almost like she was entangled in her own cocoon. Angus however, laid crookedly and clutching a pillow close to his chest, his blanket discarded to the side. There were open drawers, littered pieces of trash on the floor and clothes on the ground. He really ought to remind you both to clean your room.

But confirming you two were asleep, Paul was able to begin the laborious process of getting the ice off his windshield. He then drives into town with the stereo off. He had heard enough Christmas music yesterday and didn’t feel like having jingle-bells grilled into his ear. He slows down as he nears the tree farm. It is empty compared to how it had been mid-November. Vividly he had remembered seeing the town families gathering around and choosing their tree. Kids roamed around as parents debated which trunk smelled the freshest. With the same level of enthusiasm those mothers and fathers had, we trudged up to the nearest worker.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles awkwardly.

“Merry Christmas. What can I do for you, chief?”

“I’m looking for a tree.”

“Well, you came to the right place. Big fire sale on all remaining inventory.”

Paul hums and tries to find the least scrawny looking pine tree in the lot. He ends up purchasing

one that isn’t nearly as grand as the one Barton had in the dining hall. He then straps it to the top of his car's roof and drives back to the school.

“Mr. Tully, Ms. L/n,” he greets slightly energized by the morning air. He stops abruptly at the sight of the empty beds. There is still a visible dent from where the two had slept. Puzzled, he whirls around the room like they may appear out of thin air. He checks the other vacant rooms shouting out their names.

He stumbles his way into the kitchen where Mary is still in her pajamas, a piece of toast in one hand and a spatula in the other.

“Good morning.”

“Merry Christmas,” she corrects.

“Yeah. Merry Christmas, of course,” he lowers his voice, “How are you?”

“Well, I've got a case of the cocktail flu.”

“Uh, have you seen the kids?” he says with a bit of worry.

“Mm-mm,” she shakes her head and returns her attention to grilling the bacon.

Paul drops his head, “Goddammit, where the hell can they be?”

Hunham takes the search outside, yelling out to the campus quad that has been covered in white. He trudges to the school's theater wing, where he scampers up the stairs.

“Mr. Tully? Ms. L/n?” he pants as he reaches another floor level. He stops momentarily to listen to the music coming from the auditorium and follows the sounds. He had no idea they could do that.

He makes his presence known by slamming the door behind him shut. The piano stops and you both whirl around.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” the two say in unison.

“Where the hell have you two been?”

“I don’t know. Just here,” Angus says.

“Come on. I have something to show you both.” …

You hold Angus' hand as you make your way back to the dining hall. His hands feel clammy. A little shaky too. Although yours weren’t any different. You felt like a ghost floating outside your own body.

When you had asked him the question, you had huddled into yourself. It was the closest thing to holding a shield over your heart. In your head you had thought that if you could just reach out and place your hand against his chest, then you wouldn’t have to ask anything at all. You would just be able to tell by the rhythm of his own thumping heart. You had prayed that he would argue against you. That he would say, ‘No. Not just because we’re friends.” But he hadn’t and now you know never to trust the words of a random man at a party.

But if you were reduced to that status for eternity, you supposed you would be able endure it. Truth was that you felt you felt greedy in ever wishing more from him. He could have brushed you off, labeled you as a snob and never have jumped into the ice-cold pool when you were seven. Yet, he hadn’t and to that you owed him.

Because you think that if he had never spoken to you, you would have spent your entire life watching things from a distance.

When you arrived at the mess hall, Mr. Hunham asked you two to wait before bringing out an irked Mary. She took a seat nearby as Hunham presented you with the bare tree and a few wrapped gifts underneath.

“No ornaments?” Angus frowns, unimpressed.

“Ornaments would diminish the Charlie Brown-esque of it,” you say. “All we really need is one giant red sphere.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can round up some ornaments somewhere,” Mr. Hunham pipes in and picks up one of the gifts, “Uh now… this is for you two.”

He hands you and Angus a rectangular package with a neat bow tied to keep it closed. You’re too surprised to open it but do so after you see Angus shift beside you.

Underneath your fingertips you hold, what you always believed, to be the holy grail of gifts. A book!

“Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. For my money, it’s like the Bible, the Koran and the Bhagavad Gita all rolled up into one. And the best part is not one mention of God!”

“Hmm,” Mary grunts in disapproval.

“Okay. Thanks,” Angus nods.

“Thank you, Mr. Hunham. This is really, really, nice,” you rush to hug him, forgetting you’re supposed to be treating the man like a superior. He doesn’t push you away though, he awkwardly pats your back instead, his other arm hanging out weirdly.

He clears his throat, “Well… I know how much of a voracious reader you are. It’s a rarity that must be preserved.”

“Thank you. I love it,” you hold the book close. You sway a little like you would when you are holding a baby.

“And this is for you,” Hunham returns to passing out the presents.

Mary eyes him suspiciously and unwraps it with ease. It’s another copy of “Meditations.”

“So you just give this to everybody?” She chides.

“And,” Mr. Hunham holds out a bottle of whiskey, smiling.

Mary grins back, “Aw. How did you guess?”

“How indeed,” he laughs. He holds up his finger momentarily, signaling you two to wait. “Also, this came in the mail for you,” Hunham hands Angus an envelope. You watch as he sits down and opens it quickly. The green card is shiny and stuffed with cash. Inside is one of those pre-written messages concocted by marketing companies. The only sign of a personal touch is the scribbled note that reads, ‘Love, Mom and Stanley.’

“Oh, that's nice,” you shrug shyly when Angus turns to gauge your reaction.

“Mary, may I help you with breakfast?” Hunham interrupts the sulking.

She nods, “Yes. Please. Angus, Y/n, clear the table.”

“Okay,” you pick up your abandoned lavender and place it next to the much taller pine. “Look, it's us.”

You snicker quietly, pleased at your own joke. Angus continues to stare down at the table.

You sigh and approach him, “Angus. Are we okay?”

His eyes snap to yours, “Yeah. Of course. It just…”

“It's just what?”

“I-, I didn’t get you anything.”

You exhale shakily. For a second you’d thought you had screwed everything up and he was ready to ignore you and forget of your existence.

You lean over and squeeze his hand, “It's okay. Your presence is worth more than a thousand jewels.”

“Cheesy,” he snorts. The first genuine reaction you'd gotten out of him all day.

“Thank you!” You squeak and tug at a loose piece of his curls. …

It's a group effort to get dinner on the table before midnight. Angus begrudgingly agrees to help you with the vegetables while Hunham and Mary handle the more serious stuff. You are still not to be trusted with anything besides a peeler.

You're scraping the final bits off your plate as Angus wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“Thank you, Mary. That was just lovely,” Hunham gleams.

“Wow, is that an actual compliment?”

“Oh, come on,” Hunham waves off.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a real family Christmas like this before,” Angus recalls, “Christmas dinner, I mean- family style. Out of the oven, all the trimmings. We always leached off of Y/n’s family.”

“Yeah. From Delmonico’s. Fresh from their stoves to ours,” you scoff at the memories of you tipping the delivery driver through the kitchen window so they could remain unseen by guests.

“Well, she’s got the right idea. Next year I’m ordering in from Delmonico’s,” Mary teases.

“Anyway. Thank you, Mary,” Angus says seriously.

“You’re welcome.” She winks at him and smiles.

Mr. Hunham raises his mug, encouraging you all to follow suit.

“I’d like to propose a toast. To my three unlikely companions on this snowy island. And to our absent friends and family,” the glass wavers in your hand, “And I realize that none of us are here because he wants to be, so if there’s any way that I can make the holidays a little cheerier for any of you, just say the word.”

You perk up immediately, hands slamming down on the table and almost shaking your fork off the table, “We want to go to Boston.”

“Boston. Why?” Hunham stares appalled.

Angus catches on and nods his head enthusiastically, “Why not? We want a real Christmas. We want to go ice skating. And I want to see a real Christmas tree with ornaments, not that stupid thing.”

“You said it was nice,” Mr. Hunham says, offended.

“It is nice,” Mary reassures.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. We want a real holiday,” Angus slithers his hand into yours.

“Well, we’re not going to Boston. It’s out of the question.”

“There's plenty of intellectual-like things there too! We could go to museums or visit statues. Or even go inside Paul Revere's house! Did you know they had that there?”

“Come on Paul, you just told them ‘anything.’ So, take the kids to Boston,” Mary vouches.

“Mary, we’re not allowed to leave campus or the immediate environs,” he insists.

Angus' arm flops down and the grip he had on your hand is loosened. You’re about ready to beg the history teacher to reconsider, and that you’ll stay behind and keep clean every inch of Barton as long as he agrees to take Angus. He must have noticed the flame he blew out from your metaphorical birthday candles as he drops his shoulders.

“But I suppose we could call it a field trip. A field trip would fall under the ambit of additional academic pursuits. There’s even a fund set aside for additional academic pursuits,” he mutters like it's a secret.

“I’ll go pack,” Angus rises, a grin on his lips as he sprints off to the infirmary.

You get up and move behind Mr. Hunham to hug his shoulders and then run to Mary to give her an equal tight squeeze.

She pats your arms, and says, “Alright now. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me! I mean I’ve-, I have always gotten chocolates for Christmas. Pass the age of twelve anyway. But my mom orders them from Stockholm and they’re great, they’re delicious, but even though I ask for a two-dollar book… I always get these ridiculously expensive chocolates. Yet tonight, I didn’t even have to ask-, for the book, umm, I-,” you flail your arms around, stumbling over your words.

“You didn’t have to ask us to not order the overpriced chocolates from Europe?”

“Yeah,” you tug at your earlobe. “So thank you. For not force feeding me copious amounts of sugar and cacao.”

Mr. Hunham smooths out his shirt and swiftly wipes underneath his eyes, “Well… I hear shipping costs are rather high nowadays.”

Day Nine - December 26th, 1970

The entirety of Massachusetts looks as idyllic as a postcard. The colonial houses and snow-covered lawns were so Norman Rockwell that you felt sickly sweet. You had attempted at first, to get the stubborn radio to turn on to no avail. After a while you all managed to chat amongst yourselves about local news. Not that you had any recent access to that information to be able to understand it all. Mr. Hunham had his own fun informing you all about the origins of Christmas traditions. Like how popcorn garlands could be traced down to some colonists in Virginia.

The talking had dwelled down as you reached Roxbury. You had been disappointed that Mary wouldn't be tagging along to Boston, but you knew her going to her sister’s meant more than you could understand.

“Here we are,” Mary sighs as the car stops in front of a large apartment building.

“Boy, that's an awful lot of stairs,” Mr. Hunham comments.

“And probably icey too.”

“Mhm.”

Although you understand the hints, you're not so sure Angus is. You kick his heel to break through whatever trance he is in.

“Mr. Tully?” Hunham calls.

His eyes widened, “Right… Mary, can I help with your bags?”

“Yes please.”

Angus is handed the keys to open the trunk. He gets out and collects a suitcase and a round little box and goes across the street.

“Hey, be careful with the box,” Mary orders from the open car window.

“I’ll help too!” You smile.

“No, that's okay sweetheart. Let him be gentlemanly.”

“I really just want to stretch my legs.”

“You can go,” Hunham says, “don’t wander far.”

“Thank you,” you say.

Mr. Hunham watches you jog across the street and stop at the bottom of the stairs to look up at Angus. He turns towards Mary, “You know you’re more than welcome to a room at the hotel. We’ve got the money.”

“Are you out of your mind? I need a break from you and Angus and all your damn bickering. Besides, I'm looking forward to visiting my little sister. She’s pregnant.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” He cheers and takes Mary’s hand and squeezes it. She scrunches her nose.

“Mr. Hunham. Mr. Hunham!” She pulls away and cradles her hand like it's been broken.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My hands sweat. It’s hyperhidrosis. Sorry.”

You bounce back to the car, crouching down slightly to speak to Mary, “Angus is asking how far to go.”

The two adults peer through the car windshield to spot the boy, “One more flight up!” Mary instructs.

You go back to observing him like a guard dog, one hand on your waist and the other over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear Mary get out of the Nova and wave up at her sister and who you presume to be her husband.

“Mary!”

“Hi!” she shouts back.

You pout as she approaches you, “Bye Mary.”

“Aww,” she pinches your cheek briefly. You don’t have enough time to appreciate the touch. “Don’t be so moody. I’ll see you soon. And look at the bright side. You get a hotel room all to yourself.”

“I’m going to feel all vacant in there.”

“Just do me a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Eat all the fancy snacks in the hotel mini fridge for me.”

“I’ll stuff them in my suitcase for you,” you promise.

“Thank you,” she tucks your hair back to protect it from the harsh breeze tangling it out everywhere.

Angus’s footsteps are loud as he practically skips over to you two. He loops his arm around yours and tries to drag you away, “Bye Mary!”

“Uh-uh. Where are you going?”

“I was just-,” Angus babbles.

“You’re not done yet. You have to help me up there.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” he relents, letting go of you and switching over to Mary.

You whirl around and head back to the car. You wish you could continue glancing at him, and the way the sun peeks through his hair and makes it appear browner than usual. But it's only so long until it begins to get creepy. Only so long until it is noticeable that you’re not admiring him as just a friend.

…

You settle in at the Sheraton Commander. It's a nice hotel with chandeliers in the lobby. Everyone around you looks like businessmen in a hurry or professors with a lecture to attend. Your room is right across from Mr. Hunham and Angus, and already you feel lonely at hearing their squabble across the hall.

You had kicked your suitcase underneath your bed and then went to knock at their door.

Mr. Hunham answers, “Ah, Miss L/n. Good. We were just discussing what to do for dinner.”

The door widens to allow you to enter, and you find a seat next to Angus on the end of his bed. “I thought we would go out to eat?”

“That’s exactly what I said but Mr. Hunham insists we stay in,” Angus says annoyed.

“It’s late! If we went out now, we could be met with frostbite and discomfort. We will get a proper night's rest and then enjoy the wonders of Boston.”

Angus groans beside you and you hop off the mattress. You silently ask for the room service menu which Hunham holds.

You scan through the foods, “They have some good options Angus…”

“Ugh,” Angus tugs at his hair. “Fine. What do they have?”

“You like Fettuccine Alfredo, get that.”

“Not if it doesn’t have chicken,” you know that's not true, and he’s just trying to be unnecessarily complicated. Still, you play along.

“Alright. I’ll get the chicken parmesan and give you some of it. Deal?”

“Deal,” he rolls his eyes.

“What are you getting Mr. Hunham?” You address the man.

“I don’t know,” he puts on the glasses that had been resting on his head. “I haven’t had ravioli in a while…”

“Get the ravioli. It’s courtesy of Barton afterall.”

Mr. Hunham hums, “I suppose you're right… Do either of you have an aching for anything particularly sweet after your dinner?”

You and Angus smile at each other, “I wouldn't mind some cake.”

“I wouldn't either.”

Mr. Hunham chuckles and picks up the phone on the night table. He presses some buttons and listens to dial tone before a staff member picks up.

“Hello, yes can I…”

You drown out the order as you draw open the curtains to their window.

“Holy shit. You can see Harvard from here.”

“Oh yeah. The receptionist mentioned that while you were busy admiring the Greek pillars. I think she thinks we’re on a campus trip.”

“I can only see layered brick from my window.”

“Well, that's Cambridge for you.”

You squint your eyes, “Are you really that bothered about not going out. Everything closed anyway.”

“That's what your brainwashed, rural, New England mind wants you to think. This is Boston. A city. Things here probably don’t close until three a.m”

“I doubt that.”

“Want to bet?” He whispers, smirking.

“What?”

“Let’s go out tonight. After Hunham declares it lights out.”

You shake your head, “We can’t, he's been so nice to us. I mean, c’mon, he drove us here.”

“This isn’t me trying to, like, undermine or disrespect him or anything. I just want to hang out with you.”

You fold under his gaze, and look back at Mr. Hunham who is still on the phone. “I don’t know Angus…”

“We’ll sneak out for an hour tops. He’s a heavy sleeper.”

Nervously you nod like he might overhear you even though he’s pretty preoccupied on getting a glass of Jim Beam brought up with the rest of your dinner.

“I guess. But you have to use your Christmas money to buy him a book on ancient Rome or something. As a present.”

“I’ll start marking the map,” Angus picks up a discarded pamphlet provided by the hotel. You smile at his eagerness as he tries to slyly look for places to visit. Mr. Hunham hangs up the phone and sighs contently.

“Food in thirty minutes. Wash up!” …

Mr. Hunham was chewing his last ravioli, and holding onto his half-finished bottle of Jim Beam like it was precious cargo. A Farewell to Arms, had come on TV, leading his current tangent. Even though you were anxious to get your plans on track, you couldn't help the way your mouth widened in awe as you listened to his words. You had no idea why Angus claimed to be so bored in his class. Hunham was better than any history teacher you had ever had.

“Although there is no credible proof, of course, that Hemingway described his hometown as one of ‘wide lawns and narrow minds,’ it would track considering his works. Actually, were you aware that his town was once a single entity? It's called Cicero and as you know, Mr. Tully, he was a very big politician in Ancient Rome. He-,” Mr. Hunham reads the clock on the wall. It's eleven thirty-two.

“Is it that late already?”

“Yes sir,” Angus responds, slightly exhausted.

“I do apologize. Most people tend to stop me once I hit the forty second mark.”

“It was really quite interesting,” you voice, “they don’t go too in depth about the author's life in the inside sleeve of books.”

“Well, uh, I thank you. For listening.”

“No. Thank you. You saved me from buying a biography,” you quip, and he smiles at you. A warm smile.

“Y’know you two are a lot like Hemingway. Maybe you both just happen to be two very large fishes with great minds, born into an incredibly narrow, small pond.”

…

You were kicked out after assisting in the clean-up. You then went to your room and put on your pajamas, along with your shoes. Instead of opting to use your usual sneakers, you put on the black Mary Jane’s your school mandates.

You didn’t know why until you looked Angus eye to eye and said, “I think it balances the rule-breaking out. I sneak out, simultaneously obeying my school's dress code.”

Angus had snorted, before revealing his own tie under his coat, hanging loosely and undone over his neck. You laughed, closed the door behind you and fled down the hotel stairs. It was clear almost immediately your coat, scarf and hat weren’t enough to keep you warm.

“We should turn back,” you suggested desperately.

“We’ve made it down one street.”

“Yes, and I’ve seen three ‘open’ signs. You were right, the world goes on after midnight. Let's go home,” you plead.

“No,” Angus drapes his arm over your shoulder, “we have to do at least one thing. So, think, what do you want to do?”

You mull it over for a second. There was nothing you were desperately wanting to see. The places you did were locked securely by key until tomorrow morning. Boston held no particular memories for you like it did for Angus. However, your parents owned a house downtown that you had been in exactly five times, and you always did like even numbers much better.

“You remember that brownstone on Beacon Hill?”

Angus smirks and nudges you to follow him. The walk to the train is painful with the way snowflakes seem to fall and nip at your skin. The only other commuter in their train car is a lady in scrubs and a defeated salesman. There are plenty of empty seats for you and Angus to hog. Nevertheless, you stand, holding onto the pole, your hands on top of each other. You lift your pinky a couple stops later, having forgotten what limb belongs to you and which was his.

You vaguely recall the address. Really you are navigated towards it through pure instinct. Something deep in your gut telling you ‘Here is the place your father will crash to if he doesn’t want to drive home after work.’

Your quiet walk is interrupted by the whooping of who you assume to be college kids extending their Christmas festivities. They leave, stumbling out of bars and into their cars. You don’t feel inclined to question it until you see them driving towards the brownstone. Your brownstone.

You pick up your pace. You follow the loose strands of streamers and glitter that litter the street.

You stop dead in your tracks at the sight of the house. With its lights on and the windows curtains drawn wide open, just inviting anyone to look inside and envy them. Dead ivy covers its brick walls, and you think back on the gorgeous wisteria that you once saw grow one springtime.

People in decadent clothing filter in and out of the house. Some pass you by and stare you down like your presence is a major disturbance that’s worthy of calling the authorities.

You spot the unmistakable pinned up hair belonging to your mother. She is dressed in silk and pearls. She dances with your father with her eyes closed. She looks at peace. She looks happier than you have ever seen her.

“Y/n…” Angus whispers, trying to get your attention.

But something else catches it instead. The mail slot is full of letters and cards. There are some bills too but that never worried them. They waited until they were threatened to have their light shut off for them to actually pay them with a simple flick of their wallet.

You go through them frantically. You go through the November letters, reaching the early weeks of December until you find the last notice. Sent from your school to them. It looks brand new, untouched. The last fingers to hold them before you were the school administrator and a mailman.

You tear the wax seal off and read the letter.

To the family of Y/n L/n,

This is the confirmation notice that your child will be holding over at Janie Patricks School for Girls for the following next two weeks. She will be supervised under the care of our English Department Head, Ms. Patricia Orchard. Any last-minute changes or concerns must be alerted to her now. Contact information below includes…

You halt halfway through a sentence and let the paper fall onto the dirty snow on the pavement. You want to grab a rock off the sidewalk and hit their window. You want to ruin their fun and embarrass them by asking, “Why did you even bother having me?” Even though you know their answer.

“Because we were expected to.”

To them you’re the anchor tying their boat down. They’re two birds and you just happen to be their cage. You don’t pick up that pebble by your shoe, no matter how tempting. You almost trip as your vision become foggy and you march forward and past Angus. You sit at a bus bench and wish you had a big bag of bird seeds to feed pigeons. Grandparents in parks always seem so content doing that. Angus joins you shortly and uses the end of the wool scarf to wipe your unnoticed tears.

You shakily exhale and white fog floats in the air. “I thought they wanted me during the winter.”

“What?” Angus draws his brows together.

“Spring and summer I get. People want to have a good time at the L/n’s. And I’m a pest like the bugs in the grass who brings the mood down at just my buzzing. But when it’s cold out, I’m more tolerable. I don’t complain as much about the weather so I’m quieter. My lack of attendance can be brushed off easier because they can just say I’m sick.”

“No Y/n-,”

“Secretly, I hoped they just hated me enough to want me to spend holiday break at school. I didn’t actually think they forgot me. I’m their baby. People don’t forget their babies.”

“Hey,” Angus snaps, holding your face between his hands. “They’re assholes and later, when the tears have dried, I know you’ll try to fight me on it. You’ll come up with all these excuses for them, but you have to remember that not once have they ever tried justifying themselves. You can love them. They’re your parents. But likability is different. And I’m sorry because I have never liked your parents.”

“I’m such a bother Angus,” you weep, “all calendar year long.”

“No, you’re not. I want you if no one else. I love you.”

You trace the outline of his face under the street lamppost like a tourist observes a painting in a museum. You find him doing the same. Although not much has changed. You have him ingrained in your mind. You could forget about him, not think of him for fifty years but still be able to scout him out in a crowded street.

You inch closer to him, filled by the sudden urge to be as close as humanly possible to him. It’s an urge that resurfaces every once in a while. Usually you brush it off, blaming the cold or an uncomfortable situation you want to hide from. But tonight all you feel is the warmth only he can radiate and the inimitable way he makes your heart race. You remove the hand cupping your face and kiss his knuckles.

“How is it that you want me?” You shakily breath.

“I want you in the spring, summer, autumn, winter,” he leans in closer, bumping noses with you.

“Really?” you murmur, using both hands to comb through the curls.

“I want you, all the time,” He spoke into the short amount of space between you. You were practically breathing into each others' mouths, your lips on the verge of touching.

“Angus, I don't think we should do anything. It’s late and we’re tired. We need to sleep.”

“Trust me, I’m wide awake,” he chuckles.

“You’re my only friend,’’ the rational side shines through. Briefly.

“I want you more than a friend.”

“We should go slow,’’ you bargain.

“Okay,” he presses his lips quickly against you. Eagerly you accept and pull him by his hair. You try to cram in all the lost opportunities with him in seconds. You savor the way his lips feel chapped from the bitter weather against yours. He encapsulates your body, practically pressing you down on the bus bench.

“You’re gonna get us arrested,” you murmur through brief pauses when you go to gasp for air.

His mouth parts, his lips red and puffy, “Yeah. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Are you-,”

You lunge at his lips, and smile into the kiss. You think this is how the rest of your life is supposed to go. Wherever happens with college and adult life, he has to be there. Because otherwise you don’t know how you will manage to breathe properly.

Then as the party rages on behind you. It floods you. The thing you had been waiting for. The reassurance, the sign you were doing the right thing.

Woosh.

[goth-mami-writer]

Hi there! So here's my idea. The reader (medic officer) and leon just come out as a new couple and they're happy until one day they get draft for a mission and there meet the one and only Ada Wong that they have to cooperate for the mission. Leon is paying way more attention and all over Ada that he almost disregard the reader. She tries to be understanding and softly communicate with Leon but it turns into an argument. The reader gets upset and misunderstand Leon that he is very not much over with his "the one that got away". Leon regrets the things he said and tries to talk to her but she proceeds to avoid Leon at all costs. Que the enemies attack their base and the reader sees that the enemy is aiming to shoot Ada and at the last minute takes the critical hit for her while thinking that Leon would be heartbroken if Ada dies. Reader flatline a couple of times. I would like to know how Leon would react to this. Let's end it with a happy note ^^

▪︎~ Wildflower ~▪︎

~(AU) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader angst/jealousy work @bat-yo-us ♡

《 You stood there beside him outside of the artillery bunker that afternoon and felt your lip quivering with heartbreak. You stiffened up your trembling mouth, knowing any second you'd be blurting out the words you once thought you'd never say to his face even with a gun to your head.

But you were ready.

“Listen-” Leon began knowing just by the look on your face that you were making decisions that he couldn't change your mind on no matter what he had to say about it,

“I know I've been saying and doing things here lately that…have made you think-”

“Made me think?” You asked him, laughing with tears in your eyes at the audacity he had.

“No, not made me think. More like: made me know- made me fucking realize-”

You put your head in your hands, laughing more at the thought of your once pure, dumb hope that this would ever work after the turmoil of the past few weeks.

“And I'm done.” You said finitely until suddenly the base's sirens rang with their whirring, metallic urgency that filled the air overhead all at once. You looked in the distance to see enemy vehicles piling into the dirt lot after surging through the gated barricade by force.

“Get inside.” Leon said, watching the dirt spin away from their tires with a charging speed, and together, you both ran towards the closest underground bunker that was already flooded with the officers and personnel directing the others inside.

You heard your chief director calling for all on the unit to line in for roll call and your heart was racing trying to prepare yourself for the many casualties and injuries that might result from an enemy raid right now. The medical staff was short handed to begin with and you knew your work wouldn't be done for well into the morning with this.

“How many on unit?” One of the deputies called that oversaw the emergency protocol.

“Sixty.” One of the lesser privates answered and then called out the count that made your bones chill.

“Fifty nine present.”

Leon looked around with the others, trying to find who was missing and you did the same. You thought of your other medics and the doctors onboard the base too. All were here, you reached out to touch their hands to somehow guarantee your racing mind that they were in fact safe. But you stopped.

Ada. It was Ada.

“Wong!!” The chief director said, making the emergency officer call out the same to try and find where in the lineup Ada was. But only you and Leon knew.

He turned to you, asking if Ada ever came out of the artillery bunker and you shook your head in terror. You knew exactly why she didn't hear the raid sirens and you said to Leon gravely with fear in your voice,

“She's down in the stronghold. It's concrete. She can't hear a thing down there.”

Leon’s eyes went wide knowing that the downstairs of the artillery bunker would be one of the first things to be potentially raided due to its vast supply of weaponry and ammunition. He turned, not knowing who to tell first that Ada was still out there and someone would have to go out amid this enemy storm to get her back to safety.

You watched Leon's chest rise and fall with the thought of Ada being in danger and you felt that was the only image to prompt what needed to happen next. She was special and there just wasn't a way for you to argue it anymore. You swallowed the hot, heavy lump in your throat and your feet took flight against the ground to get you back upstairs.

Leon had already turned, preparing to tell the emergency staff of Ada's whereabouts but seeing you flee frantically to escape back to the surface was enough to make him charge forward. He screamed your name as you raced upstairs, now tapping your badge to the entry scanner to allow you outside and your feet pounded to the dirt.

This was insane. Here you were racing to save your boyfriend's ex from trouble. But it was more than that wasn't it?, you thought as you heard gunfire and enemy commands to detain anyone onsight. Ada made Leon happy. As much as you hated it. She was different from you and it was that simple.

You didn't want to be a hero that brought her back to safety. You just Leon to be happy knowing someone he cared about was free from danger.

~2 weeks prior.

~3 miles north, southbound enclave.

“Kennedy- tell your girl that we got a few wounded up here that we'll need looked at when we make camp.” Your chief directorate radioed in over the comms placed inside the military jeep taking you both south to the neighboring base located outside of Racoon City.

You had met in the months prior, doing recon in the city and around the outskirts. In the few times Leon himself had been wounded, you were always his favorite on the med staff and he knew right away that he liked you. After trying his luck, you two had decided to commit and come out as official even amid the ongoing chaos of a fallen city.

“10-4.” Leon said into the comms and looked at you smiling in the passenger seat.

You weren't used to being called his girl yet and it was still an instant feeling of giddiness that always made your lips turn up in a grin.

Leon looked over to see you basking in your little moment of bliss and he questioned with a chuckle although it was something he already knew the answer,

“What are you smirking at over there?”

“I'm not…smirking.” You said with a shake to your head as he drove, watching his gloved hands wrap around the steering wheel.

“Sorry-” He said shifting gears without even a glance downwards,

“Guess a shit-eating grin is better to call it, huh?”

You slapped his arm, watching as he clearly enjoyed the playful banter as well as you did. He teased you more with comments that you could never admit to enjoying and finally you said flirtatiously across the seat, watching as the neighboring base appeared on the horizon.

“You know, I've got a little syringe in my bag that could fix that mouth of yours?”

“You wouldn't-” He said looking over with a grin.

“You think I wouldn't?” You said slyly, “Why's that?”

“Cause I'm the one driving.” He joked cockily, slowing down as the guards from the front gates held up their hands for the car to stop for inspection before being given clearance. You laughed loudly as he showed your IDs and then sighed in love that this was your new normal.

When you both received clearance and met after the hours of menial work patching wounds and giving injections, you found him again inside one of the supply tents, well into a conversation with someone you couldn't make out from their obscured view behind others passing through. But when you got close enough, your heart dropped to see Ada Wong.

Leon in the past had mentioned her and their falling out when escaping the now ruins of Racoon City. You quickly became confused as to why and how you were seeing them together this way and you approached cautiously.

When you became close enough, Leon turned and introduced you to the woman who warmed you with a smile. Immediately, from what you'd heard, her warm, kindred way of smiling seemed venomous to you but here infront of Leon, you swallowed the distrust you had.

“I'm Ada. Very nice to meet you. She is pretty, Leon. You were right.”

You brushed away that compliment just for now and watched the way that Leon smiled when he graced her with a moment more of conversation. Ada stated that she was working with some of the higher-ups into getting more federal help with providing aid and medicine and that she'd be around often.

“Well, I certainly won't talk your ear off, Leon. We'll catch up later.” She mentioned with another half smile that just felt artificial to you somehow and prowled away as she began reading from notes gathered in her hands.

You looked to Leon whose gaze seemed to linger as she made her exit and you watched too for another moment. There was a voice in your head telling you that now that you'd met Ada, you understood why Leon almost never brought her up. It was more than likely to protect your feelings.

She walked like the earth was made for her perfect feet. She was slender with hardly an ounce of curve in the wrong spot. It was an exterior that money couldn't buy and God could only make once. There just wasn't a flaw even if you were only looking for them.

You looked up to Leon, hoping to snap him back to the present and you mentioned with a false tone of curiosity,

“So, I guess you two…are made up? After she pointed a gun at you?”

Leon picked up quickly that you weren't pleased by the sight of him chatting with Ada so casually after the events that had befallen them previously and he mentioned, trying nicely to ease your concern,

“She wasn't going to shoot me.”

“Hm-” You said full of doubt to that assumption you thought was a rather poor one,

“I think it's the intention that counts.”

Leon paused, telling you with words that he knew he needed to choose wisely given the delicate situation,

“You don't need to worry about Ada. That…that part of our story is done. It's..completely different now.”

You nodded, wanting with all of yourself to believe it. Leon had given you no reason not to trust him in the past so you gave him the benefit of the doubt, deciding that the past was indeed past. Feelings change and people certainly do as well. You shared kinder, more soft words before parting for the night and decided to rest the issue.

In that next week, it was normal for you to find Leon grouped up with Ada somehow, either coming back from recons or loading supplies out onto the GPW's for runs to the other bases. It was hard to find even yourself talking to Leon with how much you had on your plate. This was one of the more populated bases near the city so you always had something to finish or begin yourself.

One day, you were crouched down preparing a suture on an officer that was sleeping peacefully with a sedative and your hair kept falling into your face messily as you worked with sterile gloves. Your back ached from having to lean over in this process and you felt as two small hands brushed back your choppy bangs in a gentle comb of their fingers.

You flinched to the first touch but felt even more on edge realizing that it was Ada that stood over you now. She whispered, not knowing how strong the man's anesthesia was exactly and mentioned in her soft tone,

“Let me pull your hair out of your eyes, girlfriend. Don't mind me.”

You felt as her fingers brushed back your tangles to comb them gently into place and she fastened your top bun back into the elastic you were using. After making sure the officer's sutures were secure on his leg wound, you unsurely thanked her. Not exactly certain why she would perform an act so kind when she hardly knew you.

“I wanted to tell you that we are phoning in for more staff upstate and we should be doubling our medical help by the end of the month. You work too hard and I'm tired of seeing you run so ragged to help these people.” Ada mentioned, crouching down beside you as you made a dressing for the man's completed stitches.

You could only look at her peripherally as you worked but you mentioned quietly amid the wrapping and unrolling of the white gauze,

“I- I appreciate that, I guess. I mean, the help would be nice. For sure.”

Ada nodded, knowing that's not all of what she wanted to say when she found you and then said more discreetly with her voice lowering due to the nature of her next words,

“I..also hope that it doesn't bother you that Leon and I are friends. Well..friends trying to work out our differences.”

You looked away for the first time since she'd appeared beside you and finally you said a little more brave, trying to shake away the nerves of what you thought to be insecurity,

“I'm not….bothered. I just don't…”

You lost your words and Ada nodded, knowing somehow exactly how you felt in case you were finding trouble in explaining it. She assured you that herself and Leon were platonic and that you needed to worry about absolutely nothing fishy between them.

Goddammit, you thought to yourself.

This is exactly what you didn't need. She could at least be a bitch- Or act like you didn't exist or hell just sleep with Leon and boast about it behind your back to justify your sense of distrust. But she was kind. And compassionate to your feelings. And here you were, jealous of nothing more than an assumption.

Who was the bitch now? You thought.

After a joke and a smile, you parted ways with a gentle wave before you moved to the next tent.

Maybe you were overthinking everything.

It had been a slow day for you the day that Ada walked up to you in the medical tent. She wanted help gathering a list of inventory for the medical surplus for her list being sent upstate and you obliged with a smile.

“Most of your unused stock is in the stronghold right?” She asked for clarification as you finished preparing an injection. You nodded saying that anything unused would always be down in the concrete stronghold below ground.

“Good deal.” She said checking her watch,

“You wanna meet me over there in thirty? We'll grab a bite after, you and me, if you want?”

Why was she being so nice? You wondered, making your guard come up once again but you agreed, trying your hardest to remember that you had put her past grievances behind you.

You hadn't seen Leon in atleast three days but weirdly after all that you'd thought about, the absence wasn't as critical as you thought. He was busy doing recon of course but it felt like you were teaching him a lesson in a subconscious way. You wanted to see how long it'd take for him to approach to ask you to see him.

When you arrived at the artillery bunker, you noticed some of the GPWs parked outside, meaning that Leon's unit had actually returned early which was surprising. You thought of trying to find him after nipping this task with Ada but you opened the door to realize he'd already been found.

Leon stood there, smiling mid conversation with her as she held her mouth with that alluring laugh that made your skin crawl. He'd forget everything in the years you'd spend with him but how would he ever forget the way her eyes lit up during that laugh that could change a room.

You wanted to make your presence known so you kicked over an empty box to let the clatter interrupt them quietly.

“There you are.” Leon said with his gaze shooting over and you could only glare when he approached, leaving Ada behind.

“I'll be down in the stronghold whenever you're ready, girlfriend.”

You only stared into him coldly, pursing your lips together to avoid saying something confrontational to Ada who was in fact above you in rank and Leon then asked seeing the heated look in your eye,

“Honey, what's wrong? We were just joking-”

“I'm so fucking sick of finding you with her, Leon. I've not seen you in days but conveniently you find Ada before me? You’re still in fucking love with her!” You said fearless, feeling as your hands shook from the adrenaline of finally addressing what had been on your mind for days. Leon scoffed before looking away, telling you somewhat guilt-less as he denied your accusation,

“Look, we were just talking. It's not like you just found us….fucking around or something?”

Your eyes widened and you nodded before turning to leave with a heavy footfalls that stomped your way outside,

“How about this? You can go fuck yourself.”

You felt invalidated completely now. As if you were blowing this whole thing out of proportion once again. You hadn't seen him in days, not only due to the tension but also due to his schedule and the first person he seems to reunite with is Ada. It felt insulting.

Leon chased behind you now, telling you stop so you could both work this out and you faced him outside the front doors. Unbeknownst to you both, Ada had only pretended to go downstairs. She watched as you two stopped outside the glass doors to the bunker, arguing about what undoubtedly had to be her influence on Leon. When she heard the raid sirens begin in the moments after, she was calm and calculated as she made her way to the reinforced stronghold.

Waiting to meet her armed associates when they arrived.

~~~

~During the Raid

“Ada!” You shouted from the top of the stairs after somehow slipping through the enemy fire. She turned around wide-eyed as she loaded her gun and found you in the shambles you sounded to be as you raced down the stairs.

“What are you doing?” She called out in disbelief as she saw your shadow moving through the pallets of supplies and ammunition towards her.

All you wanted was for Leon to be happy and tears streamed down your face as you told her that you were here to take her back to the main bunker and she shook her head, never thinking that anyone would actually risk their life to come down here and save her. She knew the people conducting this raid and knew you'd be killed on sight if they found you.

“You need to go, sweetie. I'm-”

“Ada, please. We can make it.” You begged before hearing thuds on the steel door at the top of the stairs. Ada told you again, more hushed and with emphasis that you needed to get out of there and fast but you refused.

Getting her out was all that you wanted. If it's what Leon wanted, it was your main priority. Even if you just weren't his.

You heard the footsteps coming down the stairs but you only saw the tactical flashlight burning into your eyes.

Ada can't die, you thought as you saw them pointing their weapons, bracing their trigger fingers to fire, Leon will never be the same.

You saw the muzzle flash of the bullet when they fired. But only Ada heard the shot.

You saw the ground next as your torso felt warm, then wet when you became still. Ada screamed to retrieve you but your body was numb to stop her from crying. Only your shaking hand rose as she knelt down next to you, pulling at you to get up, demanding that you hold on. But you held her instead.

In the minutes later, amid the booming of battering rams and defense teams making their lines of fire, you laid on a medical gurney with the doctors you worked beside rushing to keep you stable. Somehow. Leon was called inside the tent but told to stay out of the way of those maneuvering to save your life.

“We're losing pupillary!” One of the working medics called as they shined a small light into your retinas to gauge the failing response of your eyes in the light.

“Pulse is dropping!” One of the others cried as they watched your life slip away by the second on their wrist watch.

Leon's eyes watered and his hands met his head and defeat when he heard them scream for a defibrillator. He watched the paddles being pressed into your chest, your body surging in an upwards jump from the charge with no response. He held his mouth with the back of his hand, not knowing if he could watch any longer but he tried to get closer.

He stepped further into the tent, yelling between the chaos for you to come back and one of the med team pushed him back, begging him to clear the walkway but he was violent with his shove in pushing them away, telling you again to live with gravel in his shaking voice.

In that moment between your life being reduced to a flat, stagnant line on a screen, he wasn't sure if regretting the last few days would even suffice. He wanted to regret ever existing instead as his face was washed in tears.

Ada walked by the tent at that moment during the evacuation of the higher up staff. She looked into the tent, seeing you staring out with a glaze over your lifeless eyes but she kept walking after realizing that there wasn't hope. This was another stop on her way to finding her truth of Racoon City. Saying goodbye to Leon would be a mistake so silently she made her way forward, moving through the crowd that still surged in the presets of active turmoil. Of course a life lost was never the price she thought she'd pay but people change.

Even you knew that.

You fell into a coma when finally you were revived by some miracle that surprised them all. And Leon stayed by your side as you rested in the quiet ward set aside at one of the remaining medical centers closer to the heart of the city's defense. His nights were long and restless as he waited for you to be with him again. In his heart he knew that it was the very, very least he could do since you'd waited for him to wake up too in these last few days.

It was his turn now for patience, and his wait to see you once again had begun. 》

Loved writing this!! Send me more asks and I'd love to work with your ideas. ✌️🫶

[kimbappykidding]

Imagine your kpop group and Ateez uniting to try and get you and Jongho together

Your group had been telling you that you were perfect for Jongho for ages and Ateez had been doing the same for him. They claimed you were both incredibly similar and had lots of similar interests. You didn't doubt them but you were stubborn and so the more they pushed the more they resisted...and so did Jongho. Your groups worked for the same company and got to see each other a lot so the teasing happened often. Basically, anytime your groups got together it would come up like tonight. Your groups were going a summer collaboration and today was the official pitch from the staff. Your groups were let into the room at the same time and you went to take a seat when Seongkwa paused "wait, shouldn't the babies sit together?". "Yeah so they have someone to talk to!" your member echoed. You and Jongho immediately started pouting but they pushed you both together and San burst out laughing "oh my god they're even dressed the same and you realised you were. You were both wearing a black shirt, black jeans, boots and an aviator jacket. Your members were practically rolling around on the floor while you both sighed. Sometimes you did think it was far too easy for them. Not only were you and Jongho the same age, but you were also both the maknaes in your group and were strong and mature for your age. Like Jongho you could also break fruit with your hands and went on a show with Everglow's Aisha and Dreamcatcher's Siyeon to showcase your talent. You both had quite an impressive cool look and had similar personalities. Not to mention you were powerful vocalists who could sing the house down. So you did get why they teased you so much but that didn't stop it from being annoying. "It's a popular jacket right now" Jongho said crossing his arms and then stopped when he realised you also had your arms crossed which made them all laugh even more. Finally, the management appeared saving you from any further harassment and explained the concept. They basically wanted you to both do a medley of your songs but against one another is a sing-off. So your group would perform one song and Ateez would respond with one of their own songs and it would keep going like that. You realised immediately as the main vocalist of your group, you and Jongho would probably be going head to head a few times and waited for your group to realise that. It took them a while but they did. "Wait so does that mean the vocalists will be the ones interacting?" one of your members asked. The staff misunderstood her "they will be but the dancers and rappers will also get to interact". "But we'll be interacting with the version of us on the other team right?" she asked with a smile and everyone else got it and waited for your manager's response. She nodded "yes that's how it will work" and everyone exploded. "So cute!" Mingi said while one of your members claimed the chemistry and vocals would be amazing. "Oh my god it's going to be a battle between lovers!" San cried. "We're not lovers!" you and Jongho said at the same time which made them all go crazy and even the manager smiled.

The members were all too hyper to make any more decisions so the staff let you finish early and you all headed out to the restaurant across the street. You and Jongho purposefully sat at opposite ends of the table but somehow kept catching each other's eye. You also ordered very similar meals, you picked the crab noodle soup and Jongho selected the crab ramen. You even went to the bathroom at the same time and sighed as you did it. Jongho went to sit back down but you shook your head trying to tell him it was okay and you'd wait but he gestured for you to go. So you went and as you came out of the bathroom whom did you walk into but Jongho? You both winced and Jongho shook his head. "Sorry" you offered but Jongho's eyes widened "no I wasn't shaking my head at you! Just how the universe seems to love throwing us together". You smiled "yeah it does, doesn't it". Jongho nodded "that and our members". "Yeah I'm sorry about mine" you said and Jongho nodded "me too, I keep thinking if we ignore them they'll leave us alone but it's been how long now?". "Nearly 3 years" you said and Jongho's eye widened again. "Wow" he said "and I think this is the longest conversation we've ever had". You went to deny that when you realised he was right "shit yeah...that sucks". Jongho nodded "yeah but what can we do". You nodded unsure what else to say and gestured back through the doorway "I'm gonna head back to the table before they get suspicious". Jongho nodded "good idea" and you parted ways. As it sunk in that was indeed the longest you'd ever spoken to one another it hit you how sad that was. Jongho was nice and from what you'd heard of him a pretty good person. So you pretended you'd forgotten something in the toilet and headed back. You waited for Jongho and he jumped when he saw you "Y/n? Are you okay?". "No, I mean yes I'm fine but I just thought. What if we've been playing this all wrong?". "With our members?" Jongho asked and you nodded "maybe we shouldn't ignore one another and just show them there's nothing going on. That we can be just friends". Jongho nodded "so what we'd talk to one another and interact?". You nodded "and sure they might make a big deal out of it at first but over time they'll see it as normal and stop teasing us". Jongho agreed "okay yeah that sounds like a good idea, so should we walk back to the table together as our first act?". You smiled at how he said that and nodded "yep" and set off together. When you turned the corner so all your members could see you, there was a slight gasp and all the heads turned but you pretended like you didn't notice and chatted about your weekend plans. Then you said bye to Jongho and went back to your seat. You looked up at your members and shrugged "what?". Jongho got a similar response. "Dude! You were with Y/n!" Mingi said and Jongho got the feeling you were totally right about this. Jongho nodded "yes, groundbreaking that we know each other". "But you two never talk" Yunho pointed out and he shrugged "well why not? We're coworkers and can make polite conversation for the minute walk from the bathroom. It's not a big deal so can somebody pass me the sauce?". Yeosang passed it to him and they all realised they weren't going to get the reaction they wanted so changed the subject. Jongho looked up and caught your eye, he smiled. After that, the two of you slowly but surely started interacting more. It was awkward at first because you'd never spoken to one another and there was still a lot of expectation there of course but you managed to overcome it and became friends. Which was good because you really liked Jongho! You were very similar and had lots of shared interests. He was chill and relaxed but could also be cheeky and fun. You liked how easygoing he was but also liked his competitive side. It didn't take long for you to start comparing workout schedules. One of the things you and Jongho bonded over pretty quickly was your love of exercising. You had similar workout routines and dedication to fitness so you started going to the gym together...which brought out your competitiveness. You were both athletes at heart and so began competing with one another. Jongho was stronger than you but you were faster and had better endurance. So you'd casually suggest you go for a run and feel a sense of triumph when he started to cool down after half an hour and you were still going. Similarly, Jongho would ask you to spot him when he was doing weight to show off and you'd up your own weights to try and keep up with him. You both knew what was going on but neither of you mentioned it and pretended there was no competition afoot. It was actually quite fun, you both liked being challenged and the other was pushing you...but an unexpected problem arose. You actually found it quite hot. You loved how Jongho wasn't intimidated by how strong or athletic you were or that you could go toe to toe with him. He actually loved it and found it very attractive about you. So your gym visits had become more and more charged with an increase in flirting and more checking each other out. It was rather annoying because you wanted to beat Jongho so badly but kept getting distracted by how amazing his arms looked or pondering how someone could look wonderful covered in sweat. You were currently watching Jongho wondering if you would call him gleaming or shimmering when he called your name "Y/n how many was that? I feel like I've done tons". You blinked "what?". "How many reps was that". You paused "I erm lost count sorry, my mind wandered". Jongho grinned "to what? You just don't want to admit I just did 30 reps!". "There was no way that was 30!" you cried and the two of you jokingly bickered and you realised you'd never noticed how beautiful Jongho's smile was. Your mind wandered again and you missed what Jongho had said. "Sorry?" you asked and Jongho smirked "wow you really were telling the truth! I actually saw your eyes go all unfocused as you space out, what's been distracting you so much lately". You immediately went pink and began to babble about work but Jongho seemed to get that because he also blushed too. "Should we finish for the day?" he asked and you nodded.

You walked home together because another thing you had in common in you lived in buildings next to one another. On the way home Wooyoung called Jongho. Jongho's volume was quite loud and as they were talking you heard Wooyoung ask where Jongho was. "I'm coming home from the gym" he said and then told you, you'd have to walk another way because the bridge was closed. "Who was that?" Wooyoung asked and Jongho paused "Y/n, we work out together". "Ahhh another gym date!" Wooyoung cried "when are you two just gonna start fu..." he started when Jongho hung up. "Bad connection" Jongho said pretending he'd lost him and you nodded acting like you hadn't heard but once again you were blushing. You parted at your opposite building blocks and Jongho waved goodbye to you, promising to see you in rehearsal tomorrow.

In hindsight, with your growing crush on Jongho, you should've stayed away from him but you didn't want to. Between work, exercising and the occasional socialising you saw Jongho nearly every day and were soon becoming a duo. You got mistaken for a couple a lot and everyone at the gym assumed you were dating and of course, there were the members too. Your plan was kind of working and kind of wasn't. Half of Ateez had backed off figuring there was no more fun teasing you because you were friends, that was Yeosang, Mingi and Seonghwa. However the other half, San, Wooyoung, Yunho and Hongjoong, just amped up their teasing and used your new friendship as more motivation to tease you. When you walked in the next day San waved to you "so how was the gym date with Jongho? Did the two of you get all sweaty together?". You shook your head trying not to blush "stop, we did but not like that". "Yeah you should come with us sometime San. We don't just work out to look good and would cream you" Jongho said coming over. You nodded "yeah pretty boy why don't you join us after work". San smiled "It's so cute that you're now a little duo, like a cuter batman and robin". "Which one's batman?" Seonghwa asked overhearing and at the same time you and Jongho both said "me" making the Ateez members laugh. "You're just too perfect for one another!" San called wrapping an arm around Jongho who shrugged him off easily. With your summer performance on the horizon, you were now getting stuck into the choreography and figuring out how you'd all be situated on stage. It started out pretty separate. Ateez would start and then you'd "crash" their performance. You'd both sing your latest songs to promote them and then start going into your classics. Then you'd start merging more and songs that went well together would be sung at the same time. Your main dancers would face San and Yunho and then the rappers would do the same until it was time for you and Jongho to have a vocal battle. They'd purposefully picked ballads and the idea was for you to just sing to one another. Jongho would do a line of his song then you'd do a line of your song and back to Jongho, continuing until you hit your high notes. Then after that was the fun part where you'd both sing each other's songs before finishing with an Exo song. You and your members were huge Exo fans so you were super excited. "Jongho you will sing Chen's line and Y/n you will sing Baekhyun's line" the manager said and several of your members laughed making the boys pause and you blush. "What?" the Ateez boys asked and you hit them insisting it was nothing. "No what is it?" Yunho asked grinning "Y/n?". "Y/n has a thing for Baekhyun!" your fake maknae cried and you leapt on her. "You traitor!" you cried hitting her and the Ateez guys all laughed...except one. Jongho. "Ohhhh she has a crush on Baekhyun!" Hongjoong said and Wooyoung shrugged "who doesn't?". Seonghwa shrugged "he is extremely talented, all of Exo are". "It's not just that, she thinks he's hot" one of your members explained and the others nodded "she always freaks out if we're anywhere near Exo at award shows". "Stop it!" you cried "it's not that bad! I just had a crush on Baekhyun when I was a trainee and I still get that panicked feeling when I see him sometimes but I'm not still into him". The guys all nodded but didn't stop smiling because you'd pretty much directed that right at Jongho. Jongho looked down when you met his eye but it did put him at ease. He'd had crushes on older idols too so he told himself that was all this was...and then also reminded himself he wasn't meant to care anyway. He wasn't supposed to have a crush on you and he realised he'd well and truly lost that battle. The performance was only a week away so your groups were together pretty much all the time and it was nice because you all got on well. You'd all eat together and started a group chat. You got to know the quieter members like Yeosang and Mingi and truly all got to bond and become friends. You and Jongho spent a lot of time together coordinating and practising the vocals. You'd been nervous at first to sing in front of such a good singer like Jongho but actually came to love it. He was a very good duet partner and it was singing with someone who could match your range. You hit a high note in your song and paused as Jongho stared at you, missing his own cue. "What? Was that not right?" you asked but he shook his head "no it was amazing! So much so I was just a little stunned". You blushed "I...thank you" but Jongho didn't look away "you're welcome. You're very talented Y/n". You were now bright red but met Jongho's eyes "thank you, I'm really glad we're getting the opportunity to perform together". Jongho smiled "me too" and then the track started from the beginning and you both got ready. Before you knew it the night was here and after wishing each other good luck your group and Ateez retreated to their dressing rooms to get ready and then you were on the wings across from one another. Jongho's eyes widened as he saw your outfit and Wooyoung burst out laughing. "You can pretend you don't fancy her all you like but your face cannot lie!" Wooyoung cried and the guys grinned seeing Jongho blush. He was so flustered he didn't know what to do so he just shrugged. "So you admit it?" San asked and Jongho shook his head "I....she just looks really nice". The guys all awed as Jongho blushed even more. "For what it's worth she totally likes you too" Seonghwa said and Jongho looked up "you think?". Yeosang nodded "yeah, I've watched her around you and she totally does". That made Jongho feel on top of the world and he grinned "let's smash this performance!" and ran to get into position. You didn't see Jongho until you were out on stage but you didn't get much time to process how great he looked...or how you'd been dressed in similar styles. Apparently the stylists were in on the running joke or they'd just realised the two of you had similar styles but whatever it was, your outfits matches one another perfectly. On your cue, you strut in the middle of Ateez's performance and "crashed" their song making the fans go wild because this hadn't been leaked at all. Your leaders pretended to start arguing and then your member proposed a battle and all the fans screamed. You kicked it off first with one of your songs and then Ateez jumped in and did their's. Then you jumped back in doing one of your hotter songs and the boys all pretended to be shocked by your saucy choreo. They then retaliated by doing one of their hot songs and you all pretended to not be bothered but watching Jongho in that outfit doing that dance did make you falter. Then it was the dance battles and your girls did amazing. They knew San would explode on the stage so they did and San grinned realising they'd purposefully been toning it down in rehearsal. This might just be for fun but your group were treating it like a battle. The dancing intensity picked up and then it switched to the rappers who engaged in some rapid back and forth until everything went silent and they panned to you and Jongho alone in spotlights beside one another. You began singing first and the stadium was silent. You got goosebumps when Jongho joined you and were amazed at how your voices complimented one another. You couldn't see anything because of the bright lights but it may as well have just been you and Jongho in the room together. You were focused on him and the energy of the place was amazing. You both reached your highest notes and sang them together and the crowd finally all screamed and broke into applause. You both held the notes and at the same time broke away, it went better than it ever had been in rehearsal and Jongho grabbed your arm in the darkness. "That was amazing" he told you and you nodded rushing to get back into your next position. You performed each other's favourite songs before you got to the Exo one. That's when everyone cut loose and all the planning went out the window. Your dancers went crazy performing moves on stage you'd never seen them do. Ateez responded and then even the none dancers got involved. Everyone began doing the Exo choreography and Jongho shot you a look because this wasn't planned. You just grinned and shrugged and joined in. Jongho followed your lead and you sang the chorus together. The final note was meant to be Jongho's but you joined in and he smiled as he realised you were challenging him. You both held it for as long as you could and then you poked Jongho in the side making him break off. Your group all cheered as they determined that made you the winners and everyone was laughing. You ended with another popular Korean song and then all bowed and the stage went dark. Your groups rushed off together and exploded. "That was so good!" Hongjoong cried and your leader nodded "amazing! We've never performed like that". "Us either" Yunho said and you all gushed over one another, compliments flying everywhere. You caught Jongho's eye and smiled "so I think I won". He grinned "you cheated you poked me!". "Guess we'll have to have a rematch then?" you asked and he nodded "definitely". Jongho went to speak again when Hongjoong cried "okay everyone drinks are on me let's go!" and all your members rushed outside to the cars. You and Jongho looked at one another before hurrying after them. When you arrived Wooyoung talked the staff into giving you the best table and Hongjoong paid for the round and opened a tab for you all. So the boys were pretty serious about celebrating but so were you guys. You'd all worked incredibly hard and formed good friendships so it quickly turned into a fun night. This collaboration gave you so much confidence and as you passed other idols they congratulated you all on your performance, complimenting your voice and you smiled back thanking them. "You seem really happy" one of your members remarked and you smiled "I feel happy, tonight was one of the first nights where I went out there and just performed. I didn't think about what the fans or critics might say or what I should or shouldn't do...I just lived and it was so liberating!". "Okay how much has she had to drink?" one of your members joked and you blushed before the others shushed her. "Don't listen to her Y/n I think it's sweet". The others all agreed and one of them smiled "and I know it doesn't matter but for what it's worth the fans all loved it, especially your friendship with Jongho". "They did?" you asked and your member nodded passing you her phone. You scrolled through many posts on Twitter praising the two of you and many people enjoying your interaction. "Y/n and Jongho's friendship gives me life" one person wrote. "So cute seeing Jongho and Y/n together, love it when the maknaes team up". "The way Jongho looked at Y/n when she started singing with him was so cute, anyone smell a romance?". "I don't care if they're just friends or more their relationship is perfect!". You read all the comments and watched the video back of the two of you together and smiled. "That is so cute" you commented and the others nodded. "I have to say...you and Jongho are really good together in whatever way and we're sorry if we ever tried to force anything" your leader said and the girls all echoed that apologising. You shook your head "it's okay! We're friends now and it didn't ruin anything so all is forgiven!". "In that case another round of drinks on Hongjoong!" one of the girls cried and you all began placing your order. When you returned to the table you slipped into your seat between Yunho and San. "Ohh what did you get?" San asked and you told him the beer name. "You could order anything and you order a beer?" San asked. You shrugged "it's what I like to drink, I think it tastes better than cocktails" pointing to San's fancy one and he gasped. Jongho however laughed "you're totally right Y/n!" and you smiled at him. San shook his head "I can't believe you two! I need another cocktail just to process what you said" and he disappeared. Jongho moved up and took his space and when you looked at him he shrugged "what? The chair I'm on isn't comfy" and he joined you on the bench. "So...earlier you said something about a rematch?" Jongho asked and you smiled "yeah, anytime anyplace!". Jongho grinned "okay you free Monday lunchtime?". You nodded "I'm there!" and Jongho smiled. "You know whoever loses should have a punishment". Jongho nodded "of course, what are you thinking?". "How about they have to buy the other person dinner?". "Dinner?" Jongho asked and you nodded trying not to blush "yeah like we can go out to a restaurant and whoever loses has the pay? Or something else if you don't want to do that" but Jongho shook his head. "No dinner is...dinner is fine" he said as his voice broke. "Good" you said smiling and blushing slightly and Jongho smiled back "okay" also blushing. You were both so focused on trying not to blush that you didn't realise who was approaching you until he was right in front of you. You looked up when a shadow passed over you to see Exo's Baekhyun right in front of you. Jongho's eyes immediately went to you and he saw you pause. Your eyes went big and you jumped a little. "Hi" Baekhyun said "I just wanted to say well done to both of you! You killed the song". Jongho smiled and looked at you where for once you were struggling to speak. "Wow you have no idea how much that means to me. I've idolised you since I was a trainee" you said finally re-covering the ability. Baekhyun smiled "aww really? That's so sweet thank you". "She was really excited when she got your lines" Jongho said and Baekhyun chuckled "I'm so flattered, you'll have to let me buy you a drink to say thank you". “Really? Sure” you nodded and asked Jongho if he wanted to come too but he said no. He watched you go with a heavy heart but there was no way he was going to stand in the way of you and your dream guy. 

Jongho couldn’t help but watch the two of you chatting and saw you exchanging numbers passing your phones to one another. He had hoped you might just remain friends with Baekhyun but the man was charismatic and successful and you were talented and gorgeous. It was bound to happen...so that’s why he was so surprised when you returned to your seat beside him half an hour later. 

“Hi” you said popping up next to him and Jongho blinked “I thought you went with Baekhyun?”. “Yeah just for one drink” you smiled. “but I...you like him, he’s your dream guy” Jongho said confused “please don’t feel like you have to be polite and come back to us”. You shook your head “Baekhyun might’ve been my dream guy once but that was a while ago. I know I didn’t have to leave him but I wanted to come back here...with you". Jongho blushed "thank you" and you smiled "you don't have to thank me". Jongho nodded "I know but I'm pleased you want to stay here with me, I enjoy spending time with you". You nodded "I do too, it's kind of annoying in a way because all our members were right" you said looking to the dance floor where a group of them were assembled. "In what way?" Jongho asked carefully and you looked down "in that we're very similar and do get along well. I know originally the plan was to do this just to shut them up but we've accidentally proven them right". Jongho shrugged "yeah but I think I'd rather than then us realising we hate each other and proving the wrong". You nodded "yeah I could never imagine hating you" and Jongho smiled "me either, you're actually the person I talk to most after the guys and that's only because I live with them". You chuckled "yeah you too! I've gotten so much fitter because I'm with you at the gym so much". Jongho shook his head "I can't take credit for that, you were plenty healthy before me". You smiled "true and I am still stronger than you" prompting some outrage from Jongho and you both bickered playfully for a while before calling a ceasefire.

You chatted again about other things before the members pulled you up to dance. You and Jongho weren't huge dancers but stayed for a few songs to appease them. You could see Jongho's dance battery was running out so made a gesture to go outside and he nodded immediately coming over to you. He lightly grabbed your arm and steered you towards the door "just go or they'll never let us leave" and laughing you stepped outside. The night air was so clean and crisp, you inhaled a nice deep breath before lapsing into a comfortable conversation. You'd just finished explaining what you wanted all your pets to be called when silence settled. You figured Jongho found your in-depth naming too tiresome half drunk but you were wrong. "Y/n?" Jongho asked and you turned towards him to see his staring at you. By the look on his face, you guessed what he wanted to do and wanted it to happen so you smiled "yes?". "I think our members were right about everything" he said and kissed you. You kissed him back wrapping your arms around his neck and Jongho pulled you closer. "Yeah I think they were" you agreed before kissing him again. You pulled away a little while later but both stayed close together. "I like you Y/n" he said and you blushed "I like you too Jongho". He beamed before adding "and not just now, I've liked you for a while". "Oh god we really are the same because same!" you cried and Jongho grinned "really?". You nodded "but can I ask, if you liked me, then why did you resist your members pushing us together so much?" you asked. Jongho shrugged "based on your reaction I thought you didn't like me". "I thought that about you!" you cried and Jongho laughed shaking his head "so basically our members tried desperately to get us together and yet are the main reason we're not a couple?". You nodded "yep which is ironic but not unsurprising". "Not at all" Jongho agreed before he paused "so would you like to go out sometime? I was going to wait for you to lose on Monday but want to take you out either way". You shot him a look and gently prodded him "big words and we'll see how true they are on Monday...but yes I'd love to go out with you". Jongho grinned his gorgeous gummy smile and blushed which made you melt. You were both just staring at one another enjoying the moment when your members caught you. "What the fuck?" you heard Hongjoong say and turned to see all your members standing in the doorway. "We're you two just..." one of your members asked when Seonghwa smirked "you were weren't you?". Jongho and yourself hesitated which was all the time in the world they needed to explode and tease you. "I knew it!" San cried while Wooyoung teased the two of you. Mingi smiled bashfully and Yeosang nodded saying quietly "you're cute together". "Okay everyone shut up!" Jongho yelled "Y/n and I don't have to answer any of your questions, leave us alone". "Yeah you do we're not going all night without an answer" Wooyoung said and Jongho looked at you and you got the same idea. "Run!" you called and dragged Jongho away from them. They gave chase but you and jongho were the fittest members of the group and kept going long after the others had stopped. You were holding hands. laughing and feeling like complete idiots but also so invigorated and alive! You stopped and sat down on a bench outside a shop that was closed. Jongho sat close to you and you turned to look at him. "That so so stupid and fun" you smiled and Jongho nodded "it was perfect! I don't want to share this with anyone" he said taking your hand and you melted into one another. "What time is it?" Jongho asked and you told him it was 4 am. "The sun will be up soon, wanna watch it?" he asked and you nodded walking down to the lake which wasn't far away. You stood side by side as the first rays appeared and watched the sunrise in each other's company. The two of you hadn't realised tonight was your first date but it ended up being the best one ever.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

hi! could you possibly share the intercept new report about gay men and their misogyny? i know this isn't really about br politics, and im not even sure if it is in English, but i think it is really important to be shared

I hope it's not too late 😅

-

Gay men and misogyny: no more ignoring this problem

'Don't talk about vaginas around me': for a long time, we ignored the disqualifications of women and the feminine made by gay men. No more.

"If I liked women, I would have become a gynecologist."

"The law of gravity is a crime against women."

“Funny” gay guys, usually white and showing a certain hatred towards females, are a very common social type in contemporary pop culture. The character Felix “Bicha Má” ["Evil Fag"], played by Mateus Solano, from the Brazilian soap opera “Amor à Vida” [Love For Life], is an easy example in Brazilian lands – the sentences that open this text are his. But this sharp-tongued young man who directs much of his bitterness towards women, including friends and relatives, has never only lived on screens: he is a common presence in our daily lives.

"Oh, don't mention a vagina around me, I get all messed up."

"My goodness, this singer was beautiful, but she got old and ugly."

"Get out of here, I don't even like cracks."

I can't say how many times I've heard phrases like that from fellow gay men. For a long time, these ways of disqualifying women – despite the certain discomfort felt by every person who is repeatedly the target of prejudice – were endorsed and reflected by women ourselves. Offenses dressed as “I was just joking” have largely naturalized these forms of disqualification, but the good news is that, in an environment in which feminism has gained ground, what seemed to be just a joke is now named by the right word: misogyny.

This is a delicate subject, since we are talking about people – mostly cisgender gay men – who have been and still are victims of a series of violence, whether at home, at work, on the streets. Perhaps it was precisely this that made us, cisgender or transgender women, leave the discomfort of being made fun of in the background. After all, confronting homophobia in a sexist country like Brazil is no simple task. But if this machismo affects homosexual men, what can we say about its presence in women's daily lives? And what can we also say about the homophobia directed at cis/trans homosexual and bisexual women, especially invisible and also targets of “jokes” by gay men?

“I had a very close gay friend, like a brother. We went out to parties together and often slept in the same bed, at my house or his. Several times, as if he were joking, he said that he was terrified of vaginas, that he was born through a cesarean section so he wouldn't have to go through one. He'd gesture the sign of the Cross and said ‘God forbid’, smiling,” says Adriana Conceição, 47 years old, a telemarketing operator from Recife who, like several other women, took a while to classify the guy's actions with the right word.

Game developer Renata Gomes, also 47 years old, found herself at the center of a virtual outrage after questioning a post by a gay Brazilian film critic living in the United States. In the post, he talked about missing Brazil, since people worked a lot more in the USA. Faced with the possibility of his speech being reductive and stereotypical, he began to treat Renata as “ugly”, “militant”, “frustrated”. Furthermore, several of the critic's friends entered the comments to reiterate the delegitimization of Renata's speech.

Younger people also identify the problem: aware of the issue, Curitiba university student Nicoly Grevetti, aged 24, listened to several people who circulate in LGBTQIA+ spaces about the subject and wrote a text about it. In it, she also identifies how pop and queer cultures, supposedly safer and “modern”, also present misogynistic elements.

One example is the use of the term “fishy”, constantly evoked to define drag queens who closely resemble cisgender women (that is, who have a high degree of “passability”). The expression refers to the smell that these women's vaginas supposedly have. “[Cisgender] women grow up believing that their private parts are disgusting and spend their entire lives using products to reduce their natural odors, which can lead to various diseases. Having female genitalia as something disgusting is so common for this group, that you can find countless reports of women talking about it on the internet,” she wrote. The topic was the subject of discussion in the famous series RuPaul’s Drag Race, generating academic works like this one. Cisgender drag queen Victoria Scone, a former participant in the show, also spoke on the topic.

A few months ago, I experienced a significant episode of this machismo and misogyny that had been attenuated for a long time in relation to gay men. I was in a doctor's office very close to a shopping center in the south of Recife. After the end of the consultation, the dermatologist – homosexual, white, in his late thirties, and anti-Bolsonaro in the last elections – lightly tapped my hand and said: “Okay, now you can go for a walk in the mall.”

Especially on that day, I was rushing to finish presenting a lecture that I would give the following day, online, at the University of Coimbra. Obviously, if I wanted to window shop or spend the afternoon reading celebrity magazines, it wouldn't be a problem (in fact, I love it). The point here was the doctor's obvious intention to fit me into the cliché of the futile and consumerist woman, a sexist and anachronistic way of disqualifying the female gender. Icing on the cake: while I was leaving, the gay boy warned me not to forget to take “the boss” to my next appointment. He was referring to my romantic partner.

If it's feminine, it's smaller

The misogyny present in the practices of part of this population is so evident that it goes beyond the boundaries of gender and occurs between equals: it is common to see it operating even among gay men themselves. Research I carried out in partnership with Professor Ricardo Sabóia, from the Federal University of Pernambuco, analyzed the relationship between body and celebrity on the Grindr app. I was astonished by both the hatred towards what is socially seen as feminine and the extremely high level of normativity, standardization, and even elitism. “'I'm not into effeminate guys” is a constant, as is “I'm not into fat guys”.

In this environment of extremely high value for toned biceps and abs, being masculine – and looking very masculine – is the strongest currency. Thus, men seen as “little women” are disqualified. This is what researcher Carlos Alberto de Carvalho calls “misogynistic heteronormativity”, in which the masculine and masculinities are placed as positive – on the other hand, femininities and the feminine are valued negatively. It is, therefore, an environment of hegemonic masculinity and subaltern masculinities.

The global soap opera “Terra e Paixão” [Land & Passion] currently features an illustration that refers to this scenario, with the character Kelvin (actor Diego Martins), an “effeminate” gay man in love with Ramiro (Amaury Lorenzo), the masculine man, self-declared heterosexual, who desires the other person, but still doesn't know how to deal with the situation. What diminishes the power of the first is precisely its proximity to what is considered “womanly”. But, looking at Grindr, even the desirable “brucutu” [Brazilian slang for a brute and rude man] has his limits: issues such as level of education have weight in the app used mostly by gay and bisexual men, where it is common to read “no illiterates”.

The LGBTQIA+ culture, in which rich and middle-class white homosexual men repeatedly appear to discriminate against other peers from the same community, is a central sociological issue for discussing social inequalities not only in Brazil, but throughout the world. “Queer cultural production has helped to reproduce class distinctions based on the hegemony of representations of middle-class gays”, writes Lisa Henderson in the article “I’m not/I'm not into: circulating meanings in the presentation speeches of the Grindr app”, by Rafael Grohmann. In the same text, Juan Marsiaj summarizes: “Such a strategy can lead to the acceptance of a type of gay (white, middle class), seen as a model of citizen-consumer, and a greater marginalization of all other 'debauches' who do not fit this way. In more Brazilian terms: there is a risk of accepting rich gays and further marginalizing poor queers.”

Discrimination on the part of this part of the queer community was evidenced in a historic episode in the 1970s, in super liberal New York. In June 1973, the Christopher Street Liberation Day Rally took place in the city, a demonstration held in favor of the rights of the queer population – which, at that time, as we will see, in fact was basically limited to white, middle-class gay women and men.

But, among the public, was the activist Sylvia Rivera, a transvestite who in 1971 had created the Revolutionary Action of Street Transvestites, STAR. Rivera had been trying to get on stage for some time, but Jean O’Leary, a lesbian white radical feminist, acted to prevent her from participating. A sample of how, many times, cisgender homosexual/bisexual women also enact the same discrimination as homosexual/bisexual men.

When he finally managed to grab the microphone, Rivera took aim at the hundreds of mostly white gay men and women present. Her speech is a synthesis of the violence experienced by queers who are too effeminate, too poor, too black, or too latine.

“I've tried to speak out here all day for your gay brothers and sisters in jail. They write to me every damn week asking for help – and you don't do a damn thing for them. I lost my job and my apartment for gay liberation… and you guys treat me this way?” she screamed.

The anger had yet another weight and meaning: alongside another important name, the transvestite Marsha P. Johnson, Rivera went down in history as one of the first to face police repression at the New York bar Stonewall Inn, on June 28, 1969. The conflict was the trigger for a fundamental civil movement for human rights – so much so that the date ended up becoming what was then called International LGBT+ Pride Day.

The question remained: how could that engaged audience repudiate the person who, at just 18 years old, spoke out against violence that was not directed just at her? How could they recriminate someone who pulled the trigger that would benefit precisely that white homosexual population?

Rivera and Johnson, who lived in a shelter, were profoundly different from the majority of the public who would return to their comfortable homes after the demonstration. Unlike Rivera, the daughter of a Venezuelan mother and a Puerto Rican father, most had not spent nights in jail or suffered police rape. The activist died homeless, alone, without the care she should have received. Marsha P. Johnson, the decorated, made-up, smiling, super queer transvestite, was murdered and her body thrown into a river.

Thinking historically and humanly about both is a central issue in the debate on hatred of “feminine” and other diverse discriminations present among the LGBTQIA+ population. The right-wing has long opened a war against women, and the rise of red pill assholes is just one of the phenomena of this reality. It still includes names like former federal deputy Daniel Silveira, who broke the plaque with Marielle's name alongside Rodrigo Amorim. [Note from the translator: Marielle Franco was a black bisexual favela-born leftist councilwoman who was assassinated by militias.]

But, as it turns out, misogyny is not exclusive to right-wing radicals and conservatives. And if Sylvia and Marsha were on the front line to guarantee the rights of millions of people, without distinction of creeds, race, genders, and degrees of “femininity”, it is worth asking: when will cisgender gay men, mostly white and middle class, join, with emphasis and strength, debates such as the right to abortion, employment, and wages, issues of life and death for the majority of black Brazilian women? When will the majority of this same group take a stand on the thousands of rapes that mainly victimize girls and teenagers? What collectivities, after all, are we talking about? As Jorge Ben would say in the song Zumbi: I want to see. We're here.

Source, translated by the blogger.

[sports-on-sundays]

Hello! Could I request something with Marc Guiu where he is smitten by reader who is two years older than him. She also live abroad. And she doesn't stop saying no to Marc to get into a relationship but Marc is adamant and wants to prove her that they can work a relationship together.

Like reader is studying in uni, having her own problems and doesn't want to add a long-distance relationship on top of those things.

Thank you! And I want to say that I really appreciate reading whatever you write.

Giving you a lot of hugs and hoping that you get your inspiration back 🥰

ready when you are / Marc Guiu

Summary: Marc x female!reader - Marc can't get you off his mind. You wish you could get him out of your face.

Warnings: suggestion of depriving oneself of proper self care

Requested?: Yes!

Author's Note: You're literally a lifesaver; thanks so much! Also, I made this a little bit more romantic and emotional than your request suggested, but do you really expect any different from tumblr user sports-on-sundays?!

Sometimes you think that giving Marc Guiu your number was the biggest mistake of your life.

You know it sounds mean, and it's not that you don't like Marc. He's funny; you enjoy chatting with him.

The only thing you did not realise, though, when you gave him your number, was that the boy is smitten by you.

He's stuck on you.

You just thought it'd be kind of cool. You know, you have the opportunity to stay in touch with Marc Guiu. Not world class or anything, but you're a Barcelona girl. It was just a cool idea.

Now, just as you're slipping under your quilt to shut your eyes for some sleep, nearly halfway across from Marc Guiu, in the United States of America (it was a treat to spend a lot of time here), you suddenly, to your dismay, hear your phone vibrating on the end table.

You roll over to snatch it up in annoyance, and sigh even louder when you see it's Marc trying to face time you.

You blow air out through your lips before sitting up and answering, immediately saying, "Is it not, like, 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning there?"

"It's 6:00 A.M.!" the guy beams, his brown eyes sparkling. "You said you didn't want me calling at 9:00 A.M. anymore, since that's like 3:00 A.M. for you, and I'm waking you up in the middle of the night. So I woke up early so I could call you now!"

"Marc," you groan. "It's 12:00 A.M. here! I was just about to go to sleep! Let me make this clear- calling me in the morning for you is off-limits."

His smile very swiftly turns upside, and he almost looks hurt, which immediately fills you with a considerable amount of guilt. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I just wanted to talk to you."

You sigh. Yeah, because you're mad in love with me, you can't help thinking to yourself. You decide not to say it, and inside respond, "I know. It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Why were you going to bed at 12:00 A.M. anyway? You should be getting more sleep than that... did you not say once you have to wake up at 5:00 A.M....?"

"Oh, Marc," you click your tongue. "With all I've got going on, the last thing I'm worried about is getting enough sleep. I'm holding up two jobs, and having to study, and everyday I give myself at least some time for exploring and travel."

"How do you do all it?" he suddenly asks.

You shrug. "I like living like this. But health isn't my concern like it is yours. We have different priorities. And yours shouldn't be ridding yourself of sleep by waking up early to talk to me, hm?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure..."

"Now, was there something you want to tell me?"

Through the screen, across the world, you can still see the tenderness in his eyes for you. His soft spot for you that's getting just a tad bit dangerous. "No, not really... Just wanted to... hear your voice, I guess."

"Oh... Oh."

"Yeah," he clears his throat. "I guess I just miss you..."

Despite everything, and the fact that you were determined to keep this to yourself, seeing Marc so open now about this still pushes the words out of your mouth as you say, "Well, Marc... My contract ends soon, which means I'll probably be coming home back to Barcelona for my next semester... After that, though, I've got plans for France... But at least that's closer, right? And you've got me for one semester."

You don't like how 'you've got me' sounds. And you know you shouldn't have said it.

Can't give this boy any more false hope than what he already has.

"Oh!" his eyes brighten, and his mouth tilts up once again. "Seriously! I'm so excited to see you again, then!"

You chuckle. "Y- Yeah, me too. Now, can I go to bed and get a few hours of sleep in?"

"Haha! Whoa, Marc, hold your horses, mate!" you laugh as he practically jumps into your arms for a hug, causing you to drop all your bags on the airport floor. "Just because I'm older than you doesn't mean you're not bigger and stronger!"

He grins, pulling away, and immediately scoops up all your bags for you. "I've already got a cab. Come on. I'll bring you to your flat and help you unpack!"

There's not much you can do to deter the Spanish boy, and once you're in your flat, all unpacked, you two plop on the couch. You sigh in relief as you say, "Feels good to be home!"

"Feels good to have you home, Y/n," Marc pipes in.

Even though you really don't want him to think you're interested, some of the little things he says never fail to make you smile, and feel warm inside.

Whether you want it or not, being loved feels good.

But then he slips his hand in yours. "So, the United States. That was the longest you've been away. Did you miss me as much as I missed you?"

"Probably not as much," you tease truthfully, "and we did face time pretty much every single moment you could. But, yeah, I missed seeing you in 3D."

He grins, and reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your hair, asking softer, "So... are you ready to date me yet?"

You lick your lips. You knew this would come, sooner rather than later. You sigh. "Marc, you know my answer." You begin to slip your hand away.

He grabs it back, and brings it to his chest. Now he's looking at you earnestly. "Please, Y/n..." His happy demeanor has quite suddenly turned almost desperate. "I know we can make this work..."

"Marc, I'm not going to be in a long-distance relationship like that."

He frowns, squeezing your hand tighter, looking you right in your eyes. "We already have a long-distance friendship. Why not a little more than that?"

"That requires more emotional involvement. My heart just can't take that. I can't be getting into relationships like that at this point in my life. Maybe someday, I can settle down and find someone. But you know I'm born to run, Marc..."

He looks down. Wraps your hand in both of his and rests it in his lap. "But we'll both be better off. I can make this work. Just give me a chance. Let me prove it."

"You're eighteen. You should be focused on your own things, like football, and your career, just like I'm focused on my own things, like travelling and studying for college. You shouldn't let yourself care so much about me, Marc," you speak gently, almost soothingly. "Please, please don't find your happiness in me. I'll fail you. You mustn't find perfection in imperfect people."

"But you're perfectly imperfect, just like me. Broken, like me, and I love you for these things..." he looks up again.

"Oh, Marc," you barely whisper, staring into those eyes. "Please don't ever say you love me. It's not good for either of us."

"But I do-"

"Marc," you say, sterner. "With everything else I have on my plate, and with everything else I'm chasing after, I can't give myself to you like that. Not right now. We're both so young, you even younger than me. I'd rather see you as a younger brother than anything else-"

"But Y/n-"

"Let's just be friends, okay?"

He sighs deeply. He doesn't nod, because he doesn't want it. But instead he leans in, resting his head against your shoulder, and wraps his arms around your body.

You sigh as his warmth is spread to you.

"Well, I'll enjoy you while you're here, and call often you when you're off to France. And you could run away and go wherever in the world you want, but please. Please always come back to Barcelona. Please always come back to me. Because I'll always be waiting here for you. And I'll be ready whenever you are. Ready for you whenever you're ready for me."

[agentnatesewell]

your note on the post about what would happen to adam if nate and suri broke up.... like they would just have to get back together. adam would just have to parent trap it or something and fix their relationship

First of all, thank you for reading the tags 🥹! That means to much to me

Your ask is making me laugh so much! The idea of Adam intervening and setting up a Parent Trap like plan to being Nate and Surina back together. I imagine, like with all Unit Bravo plans, Farah and Morgan are involved (who stays on the vineyard and who stays in the posh London apartment?)

But really, even though Nate and Suri are in a perpetual honeymoon phase, heart eyed with love and kisses and intimacy and friendship and happiness, the plan is that she will eventually turn. And when it comes to eternity, they’ll probably separate a time or two (and for a short period of time)

Adam, though, is in the middle of his oldest and dearest friend and the person who has designated him with the very important honor of best friend. I mean, something something once a knight always a knight, right? He can’t choose, he won’t let them make him take a side, sever him in half please!

I have been imagining him lamenting “you’re tearing me apart, [lisa]!”

What ends up happening is that he puts both Nate and Suri in a room, and makes it an official order to work it out. They do. They do work it out, in spades. Turns out they still haven’t signed the divorce papers, and the separation is over

And Adam can finally rest

[illjustpretend]

man baldurs gate may be my game of the year

That's so hard to admit considering tears of the kingdom also launched this year. And it blew my socks off too. It's a marvel of game design. And I haven't even gotten to play starfield yet...

But baldurs gate is in another ball park for me. Because I've been playing since early access, I've had so much time to form a comfortable nostalgic attachment to many aspects of the game.

Plus because it's more niche in its appeal (than Zelda at least), following the development cycle, watching the player base grow and interacting with the community has really felt like a more connected experience. Certainly more connected than waiting in silence for 6 years for totk (not a dig, honestly it's fine and I get it).

AND it's one of the few games in a long time I've been able to actually play with my IRL friends. It's just basically the perfect recipe.

I can sing Larian's praises all day but I can't say anything that hasn't been said a million times already. If you haven't played this game yet, PLEASE DO IM BEGGING

[mfshipbracket]

Perfectly balanced, as all things should be

love is love.

[mokeonn]

I think that the 2010's media landscape of Buzzfeed articles about plotholes in disney movies, Cinemasins critiques, and Watchmojo Top Ten scenes in movies that make no sense has truely ruined a lot of media. People are afraid that their work will be torn down if they dare leave a single thing up in the air, if they dare ask their audience to suspend their disbelief.

All too often nowadays I see stories (especially fantasy), take the time to explain how every small aspect of the world works and how it all logically makes sense. The constant time stopped to explain why an event happened, how this object works, or why this is important to the characters. It's just really not needed and it honestly makes a lot of stories worse.

I am of the opinion that the best stories truly just drop you into their world and explain nothing. They just take you through the story of this world and you just have to accept it and continue on. "When he became king, the land became barren." I don't want the story to stop and explain why this is, or how it happened, I want us to move on so we can just assume that the king has such rancid vibes that everything died.

[queercodedvillains]

Wake up babes, new chapter of mallrats just dropped <3

Mallrats (23114 words) by QueerCodedVillains Chapters: 3/9 Fandom: Naruto, Naruto (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Deidara/Sasori (Naruto), background kakuzu/hidan Characters: Sasori (Naruto), Deidara (Naruto), Hidan (Naruto), Kakuzu (Naruto) Additional Tags: SasoDei Week 2023 (Naruto), 90'S, Akatsuki - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Claire's AU, Mafia AU, If You Squint - Freeform, we are taking liberties translating the akatsuki into a modern setting here, Drug Use, Drug Dealing, Blood and Violence, POV Alternating, Bottom Deidara (Naruto), Top Sasori, BDSM, Impact Play, Praise Kink, Edging, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Sasori is still a puppet master but only in the loosest terms, if you catch my drift, Shibari, Suspension, Fucking Machines, Porn With Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Bratting, brat taming, Dom/sub Series: Part 1 of Mallrats Cinematic Universe Summary: In which the Akatsuki are 90's mallrats by day, crime syndicate by night. All the best criminals have a day job to launder their rent money, but the real fun only starts once they're off the clock.

[eir-parade]

Polar|Star (P|S)

Leo/Need Adjacent Band

A group of music enthusiasts finding comfort in one another through their own music. Made with and for each other.

Hoshino Ichika - Vocalist, Guitarist, Partial Lyricist. Losing her passion for music, she wants to relearn what it means to enjoy music.

Asahina Mafuyu - Keyboardist, Partial Lyricist. Wants to find herself and feels as if music is the correct direction.

Shiraishi An - Drummer. After learning the truth of RAD WEEKEND, An lost her aspiration of trying to surpass it but also out of respect for Nagi. Ever since though, she has been having difficulty trying to understand her music.

Kiritani Haruka - Bassist, Composer. After quitting being an idol, Haruka found her way with a new instrument, showing her feelings in a new way.

SEKAI: Empty Assembly SEKAI

Similar to the Empty SEKAI where it’s just a huge white area, except in the design of a School Assembly Hall.

Despite there being a stage, the Hall itself seems to expand on forever.

School desks and chairs haphazardly dotted about in the Hall, blank sheets or paper with garbled writing strewn out on the desks and the floor.

First Virtual Singer

Hatsune Miku - Is basically like Niigo Miku. Acts like a calming presence to the others.

Virtual Singers

Order of Appearance (StC)

All act fairly similar to their Nightcord selves (blame Mafuyu /lh)

Megurine Luka - Tends to specifically criticise Ichika. Will read over Ichika’s lyrics or hears how she plays and will ask “is that it?” Though never actually giving the answer, Luka will nudge and hint Ichika in the correct direction. Ichika used to dislike how Luka would ‘pick on her’ but now trusts Luka’s opinion whole-heartedly.

Kagamine Rin - The group's biggest critic. Even if they think they’re doing something correctly, or playing right, Rin would immediately criticise them, telling them they’re wrong and that they should be doing it like this. Her criticism helps bring Haruka back down to Earth but causes Mafuyu immense stress and panic. Rin also acts similar to a prefect so will tell them off for running or shouting (namely An).

MEIKO - Represents distance… again. And hesitancy. Specifically An and Ichika’s hesitancy to get close to people again due to their own abandonment issues. When the group were deciding on actually becoming a full band, MEIKO directly questions An and Ichika’s dedication.

Kagamine Len - Childish. Like Niigo Len, P|S Len represents Mafuyu’s inner child, a childhood she lost. He also represents being a good student and would stress when he doesn’t get something right but also has moments where ‘slacking off’ seems to make him happy. He can also represent the other’s childhood as he can be very starry eyed.

KAITO - Anger. Pure, unadulterated rage towards Mafumom, broken promises, liars, fakes, and the world.

Subject to Change as I go on figuring out this AU more.

[tickle-bugs]

Lil idea for the 3 Peter Parkers!

Peter 1, the youngest, often gets snarky with the older two "brothers". They both eventually decide theyve had enough of his jabs about their age, and team up on him, working together to tickle him to bits and teach him to respect his elders

Attitude Adjustment

Okay so if you’re like me and literally can’t keep the numbers straight: peter one (referred to just as Peter here) is tom holland’s spidey, peter two is tobey maguire’s, and peter three is andrew garfield’s. I felt SO silly writing in the numbers but there really is no other way LOL

Also, au where they’re in sort of a Spiderverse situation and the other spideys are trying to figure out how to get back to their dimensions. Absolutely no canon, just vibes. 

“Hey Pete? How do you work this thing?” Peter Two huffs and flails his hands around through the holographic energy core in front of him. It spins listlessly, unsure how to interpret his gestures, and beeps at him. 

“Comin’.” Peter rolls off the couch, chucking his phone onto the rickety coffee table. His new place was small, achingly so, but it was starting to come together nicely. He had pictures on the walls, a rug on the worst spot of the floor, and a bedframe. All progress was good progress. 

“Show me how you’re doing it?” Peter squishes beside Two, who sort of swats at the hologram like an irritating bug. 

“Oh, okay. So, uh, the hologram maps its movements according to your fingertips. If it can’t get a good read, it’s not gonna respond. Here, like this.” Peter pulls his hands into the projected image, twitching his fingertips and twirling his wrists. The simulated core spins and zooms at his whim. Eventually, the image flashes green, and a small loading bar picks up at the bottom. 

“Neat.” Peter Two watches in awe as the computer begins to synthesize his formula. He idly spins the image around. “We didn’t have anything like this growing up. It’s crazy.”

“Glad I could help, grandpa.” Peter grins, giving Two’s shoulder a good-natured squeeze. Two rolls his eyes and shoos him away. 

“What a nice young man, helping the elderly,” Peter Three hums from the ceiling, typing away at his laptop as if his life depends on it. He looks a bit like a goblin, or maybe a vampire, hunched over all of them. 

“I do my part.” Peter salutes, flips back over the couch, and pulls his phone back into his hand with a web. He’d lost his place in the Fantastic Four interview he was reading. He sighs. 

“You both are hilarious,” Peter Two grumbles, watching a holographic array of complex mathematics spin in front of him. 

Peter sinks down into the couch, into the quiet buzz of technology and Peter Three’s terrifying typing. It’s not silence, not quite, but it still gnaws into his bones in a way he doesn’t like. He’s been avoiding being Peter as much as he can lately, instead staying out on patrol as late as his body can handle. Collapsing on a rooftop as Spider-Man is easier than coming back to Peter Parker’s shithole apartment. 

Spending time with people like him, people who get it, it’s…nice. Steadying. He knows it’s going to crush him when they leave, but having them now is more than he could ever ask for. He has no one, but he has them. 

“Hey.” Peter leans over the back of the couch and waves at Three. “Need help?”

“Hm? No, I’m good. Still compiling that list of compatible metals. Hoping to keep this matter projector the size of a rubix cube. Or, worst case scenario, like a suitcase.” Peter Three gnaws at his lip, then squints at his screen. He flings out a web and snags his glasses, catching them out of midair. He puts them on with care, pinning the laptop to his upside-down lap with his free hand. After fiddling with the lenses, he gets them to balance properly. 

“You’re still squinting.” Peter chuckles. 

“It’s part of the creative process.” Three waves an idle hand, then squints more aggressively. “I, uh--I’ve got shit eyesight. It’s fine.”

“The spider bite didn’t fix your vision?” Peter furrows his brow. 

“It did, but I wrecked it again. Too much blue light, too many flashbangs to the face--it all takes a toll, y’know? You should be grateful your eyes still work. Take care of them while you have them.” Peter Three nods sagely. He grabs his mug of long-cold coffee with a web and brings it carefully to his hands. He sips, gags, then comes back for more. 

“Okay, dad.” Peter huffs with no venom. He tries not to be jealous that Three can drink upside down. He’s tried. Repeatedly. 

“You have a remarkable amount of attitude for someone so tiny.” Three stares at him over the rim of his glasses, which shouldn’t be as funny as it is. Peter snorts. 

“Right? It’s his tone,” Peter Two hums. The computer chirps at him that his equation is only sixty percent viable, would you like to try again? He thunks his head into the desk. Three’s mug slowly lowers itself down beside him. Two takes a sip, gags, and deposits the mug in the sink. Three balls up a piece of paper and throws it at his head. 

“Alright, I’m starting to go a little stir crazy. How about we take a break?” Peter Two stretches, popping something in his back. He does the ‘keys, wallet, phone’ patdown on himself, turning in circles to make sure he’s set. 

“Like a patrol break?” Peter perks up. 

“No, a dinner break. I’m starving, and God knows when you two last ate. Or slept.” Two hazards a glance towards Three. 

“Oh, I’m good. Go without me.” Peter Three keeps typing. Two’s glare chills the room a few degrees. He pointedly clears his throat. 

“Y’know what, actually? A break sounds great. Super on board with the, uh, the break time.” Peter Three closes his laptop and flips down off the ceiling. He stumbles as he lands, hissing in pain. The laptop goes flying, but Peter just manages to snag it with a web. He cradles it to his chest. 

“Thanks.” Three nods. Peter nods back. The room collectively sighs in relief. 

“Is it your, uh--” Two maneuvers to support Three as best he can. They limp over to the corner of the kitchen together. 

“My back, yeah. Shitshitshit.” Peter Three inhales tightly and leans up against the counter. He tips his head back against the cabinets and focuses on breathing. 

“It just, uh--well, it locks up sometimes. No clue why.” Three shrugs, then winces. 

“I think I have some painkillers. If it’ll help.” Peter sets the laptop down. Three smiles thinly at him. 

“I’ll take you up on that. I’m usually fine after a few minutes. Just gotta wait it out.” Three winces again, gripping the countertop hard. The cheap vinyl cracks with the force of it. Peter tries not to wonder if he’ll have to pay for that--instead, he fishes out the pitifully empty bottle from his coffin-sized bathroom. 

“Gimme your hands.” Peter Two crowds in front of Three and starts helping him stretch, slow and steady. After a heart-wrenching cry of pain, Three hums appreciatively. He twists side to side, working out as many sore spots as he can. Peter shakes the bottle at him and tosses it. He catches it and dry swallows the pills. 

“Hm.” Peter leans against the wall. 

“What?” Two huffs.

“Nothing.” Peter shakes his head with a smile. Fondness blooms warm in his chest. May used to tell him that he’s the only person who knows how to take care of himself best, what he needs. He wonders if she ever thought it would manifest this way. 

“Alright, c’mon. What old man joke are you sitting on right now?” Two crosses his arms. His amusement is contagious. 

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you!” Peter laughs.

“One day you’re gonna be a twenty-something with a bad back. You’re gonna be like ‘oh wise and mysterious Peter, please help me with my ailing spine’. Then you’ll get it.” Three grunts. He loudly cracks something in his back and all of them wince. 

“What am I gonna do? Do a backbend over your walker?” Peter snickers. Three gasps and splutters, sending both of them into actual laughter. They’re terrible influences on each other. 

“You are such a brat.” Two chuckles, mostly in disbelief. Peter sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Were you like this?” Two jerks a thumb toward Peter. Three quirks a smile and regards Peter for a bit--the defiant jut of his chin and the fire in his eyes are heartwarming. 

“I mean…yeah. Kinda. Just tall.” Three smirks.

“I’m not short.” Peter scoffs. Two and Three exchange a glance. Three leans on Peter’s head. Peter swats his arm away. 

“You’re barely taller than me!” Peter huffs, throwing his hands in the air. 

“First step is acceptance, buddy.” Two pats his shoulder. “Let’s get our shawarma on.”

Peter Three stifles his laughter into his fist, squinting in mirth through crooked glasses. Peter groans, smacking his face into his palm. He’s hiding a smile, though, and it makes Two smile in turn. 

“What?”

“Let’s get our shawarma on?” Peter snickers, his shoulders shaking. 

“Yeah, I can’t defend you. That was corny.” Three leans into Peter and soon they’re both giggling, set off by each other’s goofiness. 

“You sound like a dad!” Peter giggles. 

“Scratch that. We’re not going anywhere until we cure you of this attitude.” Two raises an eyebrow. Peter giggles at him which, while adorable, Two cannot stand for. 

“You gonna send me to my room? Ground me? Oooh, I’m so scared--” Peter snorts, then he’s upside down. Peter Two’s got him around the waist like a sack of potatoes. He lets out an affronted squeak and tries to reach for the floor. 

“Whatareyoudoing--” All the breath leaves Peter in a hefty woosh as Two worms his fingers into his sides. He squeals, his legs flailing wildly. He tries to pry Two’s hands away but gravity isn’t his friend at the moment. 

“Spider deterrent,” Two says, deathly serious, but Peter can hear him smiling. Bastard. 

“Nononohoho! Tickling is cheating!” Peter cackles, all hope of playing tough long gone with his breath. No matter which way he tilts, Two’s fingers are waiting to torment him--and he seems to have quickly figured out just how deathly ticklish his stomach is. Almost like he knew already. 

“I didn’t know there were rules--” Peter Two ducks out of the way of an accidental kick-- “Hey! Violence is not the answer!”

“Gonna v-violence your stuhupid fahahace! Lemme go!” Peter growls, prying at Two’s wrists again. Two tuts at him and vibrates his fingers into Peter’s stomach. He shrieks and kicks his legs, all pent-up energy with nowhere to go. 

“Aren’t you gonna help?” Peter gasps at Three, his voice way higher pitched than he’d like. His face is redder than his suit, little giggles still slipping free. He’s (mostly) deathly serious about murdering Two if he can just get out of this. 

“Yeah, come help!” Two grins, beckoning Three over with a tilt of the head. Peter Three disappears out of Peter’s line of sight and he allows himself an evil grin. 

“We’re gonna kick your--” Peter loses the last half of his threat to a yelp, then frenetic giggling as Three claws at his ribs. Peter screeches in betrayal and tries to swat at him, but he’s far from coordinated and it tickles, oh my god--

“Sorry. More afraid of him than I am of you.” Peter Three grins sheepishly, but his eyes shine with mischief. He walks his fingers up under Peter’s arms and he screeches loud enough to make a dog down the hall start barking. He lets out a snort and desperate syllables tumble out to follow. He manages to elbow Two in the gut and nearly gets dropped on his head for the trouble.

“S-Sorry! Tickles!” Peter hiccups and clamps his arms to his sides. 

“You are so squirmy!” Two tosses him over the back of the shitty couch. Peter squeals at the sudden change in gravity, but then he’s squealing because they both follow him over the couch. 

“I-I’m gonna get a noise complaint! Guys!” Peter throws his head back against the armrest and cackles, shoving at the two of them. He’s not sure where the ceiling is anymore, everything’s sort of spinning, but the slight burn in his chest is grounding. 

“Alright, alright.” Two lays off and Three follows suit. Peter flings his arm over his face and tries to remember the sweet embrace of oxygen.

“Oho man. You guys suck.” Peter peeks at them with a goofy smile. 

“Spider deterrent. Works like a charm.” Two puts his hands on his hips. Three leans up behind him and goes to poke his side, but Two catches his hand. 

“Don’t. Do not.” Two points at Three threateningly. Three holds his hands up in surrender, but his grin is anything but innocent. He and Peter lock eyes.

“Spider deterrent, huh?” Peter leans up on his elbows with a cocky grin. “Every experiment needs multiple trials, right?”

“You’re both menaces.” Two grapples with Three, occasionally twitching but still putting up a fight. Peter manages to poke him a few times and get his arm caught, but Two can’t fight both of them.

A hush befalls the room as Peter Two visibly weighs his options, trying not to crack from Three’s pinching at his ribs. 

Two throws himself over the couch, followed by Three, and Peter eggs them on from the safety of the couch. It’s like watching cats wrestle, really--there’s an indistinguishable tangle of limbs and shouting before Peter Three’s shocked cackle emerges from the pile. 

“P-Peter! Help!” Three wheezes, holding his hand out for rescue.

“Oh, you want my help? Yeah, sure, I’ll help.” Peter cackles evilly, kicking off the couch and launching himself at Three.

“Wait, hold on--”

…

“98 percent viable. We did it,” Peter Two breathes, holding the hologram in his hands. The simulated core spins lazily. After hours of calibration and recalibration, the algorithm finally holds steady. Three squeezes his shoulder and laughs quietly, happily. They’re going home. 

“Should we tell him?” Three casts a glance over to the couch. Peter’s out cold, curled up under a threadbare blanket that refuses to let go of its musty smell. Despite the bags under his eyes, he looks peaceful. 

“Tomorrow. You both still owe me shawarma.” Two smiles, knocking their shoulders together.