#bro I’m not out here asking for donations and the only reason I was able to run a nonprofit without pay is that I was financially stable

[hauntedfalcon]

@nonhoration right?! every time I think about how much a meatspace nonprofit could accomplish with the money AO3 is doing nothing with, steam comes out of my ears. flames! on the side of my face!

[sniigura-archive]

why can't you see me (4)

chapter one

I deleted chapter 4&5 because I thought they were trash 😔

_______________

it all started with vocaloid covers. yes, you're also cringing right now. you were how old? 12? 13? it doesn't really matter, to make it short: a few years ago you posted a shitty cover, of an edgy song.

you went viral. thousands of likes and comments were made on your YouTube video, which was recorded with your laptop microphone.

not going to lie, you were shocked. holy fuck? people liked you? your content? that's new.

well, not really. your best friend at the time told you to upload it. he supported you! how nice of him.

one cover caused 2 to be made, then 3, then 4 and after 10 covers you posted your first original song. you didn't actually think that your fans would support it, but they did.

that all happend in the span of a year, or two.

you weren't so sure, you lost your feeling for time a while ago.

after that original song record labels wanted you (you were easy to take advantage of after all). problem was, or still is, you're a minor.

you can't sign anything, you don't have an accutal agent, or manager, you don't have shit. to be honest, you also aren't sure how you're doing it. well, it's easier now because of streaming platforms and your best friend likes to play manager.

it's less stressful at least, you publish whatever you want, when you want it. nobody controls your social media account.

you accutally make money, a lot of it. but to keep yourself humble you donate a huge part, and put the other one in a savings account.

you're so smart! so mature! an old soul! not like the others! a delight to have in class!

you're absolutely burned out.

companies constantly messaging you for you to promote this! newest product! so good! the best thing on the market! when it's trash, a way to get money.

but everything is like that, isn't it? you're also selling trash. making trash music and poetry. wow, you're so special. an artist! royalty, you drew all the album covers yourself? no wonder they look like that.

your age is a mystery, so is your face and real name. people were able to figure out your height by a simple picture of you besides a dresser.

they know you live in japan, you were forced to publish that as you got nearly cancelled for wearing a kimono. life is great!

constant comments and messages of "you changed" were flooding you. of course you changed? bro? you were only 13?

it's called character development.

your fame is basically a secret, besides your best friend and school nobody knows.

you didn't bother telling your father because he didn't want to listen, pretty sad. you tried, you really did but he was busy, as always.

now it's too awkward to tell him.

"hey, papa, by the way im like a prodigy in the music business and i have more instagram followers then you."

yeah, as if (even tho you have to check if you accutally finally got more followers then him).

the older you get, the more followers you get, the less you post.

you're arrogant, they scream.

you're so so tired. constant spotlight. constant critism and people who think you're god. it's so much.

sometimes you're thinking about deleting it all, but you like the attention.

but if you see one more newspaper saying you died or that you're accutally a villain, on god you're going to go crazy.

"Top 10 face claims for faceless celebrities!"

murder on your mind.

______________

toshinori is embarrassed. as he's sitting with his co workers, he feels just straight up bad that he accutally has to think hard about his kid hobby.

"well.. they like cats? and.. ah! they play the guitar."

"acoustic or electric?"

"...there is more then one guitar type?"

his three coworker sighed. well, earserhead would, if he wasn't asleep.

midnight looked at the clock and quickly stood up, "well, i have to go! the kids don't teach themselves."

the two others also quickly realised the time, toshinori stood up, while present mic woke earserhead up.

god, he has to think of a bonding activity. concerts? no, it wouldn't work out for different reasons.

what did you talk about last time he saw you?

when was the last time he saw you?

shacking his head, he quickly remembered an email from your school.

your school was hosting an internship! that's the solution! you work here for a few weeks, he works here! perfect! what could go wrong?

__________

"no."

"why not?"

"because i said no?" with that you turned back to your computer.

"well, i think it would be a great learning experience!"

"and i think it would be very useless for me. i'm not interested in hero's. besides that, i already got a place at a company which I'm accutally interested in." you don't.

"it's not about hero's, it's about teaching."

"I hate children."

"you are also a child?"

"yes, and have you ever seen me get along with somebody my age?"

silence. he feels defeated. maybe he needs to put his foot down?

"you're going to work at UA during your internship, this is finally." thinking about it, he wasn't even sure if UA does internships.

"no, nice try though! appricate the effort. now get out, it's not halloween yet so i don't need any skeletons in my room."

toshinori has to take a deep breath to remind himself that you're just a kid. he can fight you physically once you're 18.

using your full name to get your attention, he used his last card, "please do the internship with me. see it as an bonding experience."

"..okay whatever, but if it sucks i can get another cat."

toshinori felt like a winner, but he needs to ask nezu first. the internship is still a few months away, who knows what will happen during these months.

[broadstbroskis]

four times you wore matthew tkachuk’s name on accident + one time on purpose | matthew tkachuk

the first

It’s a Friday night and you’re at Matty Tkachuk’s apartment solely at the request of your best friend, Sasha, who’s a little more than friends with Noah Hanifin (and refusing to believe that she’s actually more than a little more than friends but that’s neither here nor there). The party’s raging and you’re killing some bro’s on the pong table with some pretty Swedish boy who you’re almost certain plays on the Flames with Noah. And then, suddenly, there’s a ruckus behind you, like more than the general party-ruckus, and you’re covered in beer.

And when you say soaked, you mean like, absolutely drenched.

The dudes who are the entire reason you’re now the winner of the impromptu wet t-shirt contest can’t even make it through the apology they start before their eyes go to your chest and they actually stop speaking, so you very quickly ditch the pretty Swede in favor of looking for Sasha.

Unsurprisingly, she’s making out with Noah in the corner and neither of them look amused when you interrupt. “Well sorry.” You snap, glaring at yet another guy who stops to stare at you.

“Get moving, buddy!” Noah waves him away.

“Now do you see why I want to leave?” You look at them flatly. 

Sasha giggles. “Just go topless for the rest of the night!”

You give her a look “You’ve seen me topless before. That’s certainly not going to help the staring.”

Sasha is still giggling as a group of guys in the corner start to point and Noah gives his best glare (which is frankly, like 0% terrifying, but the gesture is much appreciated). “Come on,” He pulls the two of you away.

“Oh yeah,” You snark at him, as he leads you down the hall. “This is helping my case. Heading down the hall with the two of you in my wet t-shirt. This is just the thing I need!”

“Well?” Noah grins not even five minutes later, from where he’s lounging on Matty’s bed, watching as you attempt to tuck the Tkachuk Flames shirt into your short, bodycon skirt. The endeavor is useless, which from her laughter, Sasha figured out ages ago, and has been waiting for you to do the same.

“There’s nothing smaller?” You ask desperately. The shirt is genuinely huge. It fits you like a dress.

“I mean, Chucky’s just a tad bigger than you so…” Noah trails off, fighting his own laughter.

“That is a lewk!” Sasha is still giggling from the ground as she adds, “I’m sure we could look around and find something smaller that’s been left behind.”

That thought brings an immediate look of disgust to your face. At least Matty’s shirt is clean. “Fuck no, I don’t want anything that belongs to any girl that he might have brought back here!”

They’re both laughing, as you awkwardly tuck one edge of the t-shirt into your skirt and let the rest of it fall. “Alright.” You say. “Noah, let me pound your beer and I might not hate myself enough to be able to go back out there.”

Noah’s beer is not quite enough, but it’s enough to get you back out to the party, where you can all three get fresh drinks to go along with the shots you insist on (needed if you’ll be wearing this shirt for the rest of the evening).

And then, they quickly ditch you for their corner again, so you make your way back to the pong game, only to find out the you and the pretty Swede have been chased off the table.

The Swede is in the kitchen, holding court with a few other teammates, and you start to make your way over to them, hoping to convince him to take back your rightful spot at the table (or if not, just to join their circle), when the host of the party steps up to you.

“Babe!” Matt grins, and you stop to wait for what’s to come, because you’ve seen a lot of him recently since Noah and Sasha have been spending more and more time together, so you’re sure he’s not finished. “Never would have thought I’d be happy to see you change out of that wet t-shirt, but I guess that’s when happens when you look so hot in my clothes!”

“Babe!” You mimic, grinning, ready to dish it back. “Never would have thought I’d actually consider changing into the clothes that last week’s rando left behind, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re a dick!”

Matty just laughs, accepting the chirp as you move past him to the kitchen, and that’s that. The shirt comes home with you that night, gets shoved into the back of your closet, and forgotten about entirely.

the second

“Thank god you’re here!” The woman grabbing your arm on the way out of the bathroom at Saddledome looks extremely familiar, but you couldn’t put a name to her face if your life depended on it. 

“Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong person.” You try to keep your voice as polite as possible as you attempt to shake her off.

She shakes her head. “Sasha said she tracked you here on your phone.”

That traitor. And also, still, who the fuck is this lady? “Umm.”

“Britt and Morgan are both stuck at home with sick kids, and Jess was supposed to be able to fly in in time for the game tonight but her flight got delayed so she’s stuck in Ottawa or something, so we are super shorthanded and Sasha said you were here with some friends tonight and wouldn’t mind filling in.”

Say what now? “Sorry, filling in for what?”

“Toy collection!” She’s actively leading you away from your other friends and from your seat towards an employee only area. “Come on; let’s get you a jersey and get you set up!”

And well, you’re not so heartless that you’re not going to help them collect toys for kids for the holidays! Even when she shoves a Tkachuk jersey at you, practically yanks it over your head, and then fluffs your hair before leading you out to the first floor concourse and over to a toy collection station with Johnny Gaudreau’s girlfriend, you paste a smile on your face, vowing to get back at Sasha for this later.

It isn’t long before the smile is real, laughing along with Ali as the two of you collect toys and donations. You’re actually having such a good time you don’t even notice that lady taking your picture until the next morning, when you’re scrolling through Instagram and it pops up on your feed via the Flames official account, on a post thanking their fans for making the toy drive such a success.

And right below it, a comment from Matt: 👀👀

the third

It’s too fucking light out, there’s a very loud banging, and your head will not stop pounding.

And somehow, none of these things are going away? Like they’re actually all getting worse and that’s when you realize your hangover isn’t going to go away on its own. So with one last groan into the pillow, you open your eyes, hoping to take care of all of these things.

And that’s when you realize this isn’t your bed. Or your room. And you aren’t wearing any clothes?

What the fuck happened last night?

Once that moment of immediate panic fades, you realize that even though this isn’t your room, it is a familiar one. It’s not the first time you’ve spent the night in Matty’s guest room after a party, but it is the first time you’ve woken up in it without clothes.

Further inspection of the room leads to open blinds and no clothing, which is not entirely helpful in solving the problems of your nakedness or the knocking at the door...which you can only assume means Matt has left for practice or something because god, if he was somehow managing to sleep through this, you were going to kill him.

The knocking at the door will not fucking stop and so you angrily stand, searching for some clothing item in the room to cover yourself up with to go take care of it. You’re just contemplating wrapping yourself in the blanket before you stumble upon an old Knights t-shirt. It’s still huge on you, but it’s clean and probably better than going out to answer the door wrapped in just a blanket.

No, definitely better than going out in just a blanket.

The shirt is soft and worn as you pull it over your head, like a favorite old t-shirt should be, and you really contemplate stealing it as you bitterly make your way to the door, throwing it open with a scowl on your face. “What?”

“Uh.” There’s a delivery man outside the door, holding a package. “Sign for delivery?”

Is he fucking serious? This is the ruckus? If looks could kill, he’d be a puddle on the floor, but you sign for the package and turn back into the apartment.

And apparently, Matt is home, and furthermore, alive, since when you do turn, he’s standing in the living room. For once, he’s not even running his fucking mouth, standing there with his jaw slightly dropped as he stares at you.

“Here!” You throw the package to him as you start to walk closer.

Matt doesn’t even react and the box falls to the ground in front of him. “Where’d you find that shirt?”

Your fingers drop to the hem of the tee, starting to recognize the look in his eyes for what it is. “Your guest room.”

He swallows. Visibly. Audibly. “Why’d you put that on?”

You grin, beginning to lift the hem up. “Why don’t you come find out?”

the fourth

Stuck in an endless loop of last times, it’s becoming less and less shocking to find yourself in Matt’s bed at various hours of the day. Sneaking out of his place in the morning. Popping over in the afternoon between classes. Sending your uber at the end of the night to his place instead of your own.

So it’s not really alarming anymore to find yourself waking up on a Sunday morning in Matt’s bed, to roll over and see only the ends of his curly hair poking out from under the covers or maybe a bare chest from where he’s pushed off all the blankets, consistently a later riser than you unless he absolutely has to be up.

Someone might think it’s alarming from the way you jump out of bed this particular Sunday, but that actually has more to with the time on the clock than the man’s bed you're in.

There’s no way you’ll make it back to your apartment to change and to brunch with your parents in time. Panic mode induced.

But the ruckus of trying to gather your shit and get dressed at the same time does wake Matt up (you suppose, in hindsight, that attempting to yank jeans up with one hand and buckle your bra with the other was not your best idea, but only because you hit your hip into the side of the dresser) and you fondly watch him rub his eyes sleepily before remembering that you need to go and resume working on fixing your jeans and bra.

“Where are you going?” Matt still sounds tired, but he’s sitting up, watching you rush around the room.

“Brunch with my parents have you seen my shirt?” The whole thing’s said as one sentence, one word maybe. Who’s got time to breathe right now?

“I just woke up.” He frowns. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t!” It was white, you were pretty sure. Or maybe black? 

“This is not how I planned to send my Sunday.” Matt frowns.

Success, there’s something black in the corner. You go to grab it as you address that comment. “You should know by now that you win some, you lose some.”

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to use sports cliches in bed, then you’re not allowed to use them out of it!”

“Matthew!” You cry, turning toward him, shirt in hand.

“That seems like a very reasonable compromise to me!”

You are ten thoughts ahead of sports cliches by now and hold last night’s sweater up for him to see. Or, what used to be your sweater. There’s a rip down the center; it was a v-neck to begin with and was now only being held together by threads. “This isn’t!”

He hesitates, but doesn’t look sorry at all. “It was a thin sweater?”

You level him with a look. “Let me tell that to my dad today at brunch.”

“You know what, I’ll just give you something.” Matt stands, and walks toward his closet. A second later, there’s a shirt flying at you and once again, you find yourself pulling a huge Flames t-shirt over your head, this time with Matt’s number on the top left and both sleeves, and trying to make it work as an outfit. 

Matt’s got a huge grin on his face as you continue to just tug at the shirt, but finally you just give him a look. “Nothing else?”

“A dress shirt?” He offers, still grinning, unable to take his eyes off of you.

You actually contemplate it for a second-if you would be able to make it work as a dress, certain that he’s got a belt you could also snag to cinch the waist- before deciding against it. “I really have to go.”

Matt loops his arms around your waist, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. “Do you?”

It is...so easy to tilt your head to the side and just let Matt work, his hand travelling up his shirt. You can feel him smirk against your neck and you can’t even be mad about how smug he is about winning because it feels so good.

And then your phone buzzes and the moment is broken. 

The clock says it’s already past time for you to meet your parents and when you look at the text, it’s from your mom, letting you know they have a table. You let her know you’re on your way, but running late, and then slip the phone in your pocket.

“Fine.” Matt says, kissing you softly; a real, proper one, on the lips that sort of takes your breath away. “I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks.” You laugh, a little surprised about the kiss, which just...wasn’t something you guys did outside of bed.

And with one last brush down your arms, a tiny little pause over his number on your shoulders, he steps away, letting you go. But it’s just enough that you think you know what’s going on.

plus one

The long road trip out east gives you enough time to put your plan in action.

Unfortunately, you’re such a terrible liar, that you’re sure Matt knows something is up when he returns.

He sounds definitely hurt when you tell him that you can’t come over the night he comes home, but you’re sure that he’ll get over it pretty quickly when he sees what you’ve got planned for tomorrow’s game.

Your plan formed quickly, coming together in your mind easily. Meeting up with Sasha for lunch one day, you’d told her exactly what you wanted to do, requesting her help in getting you what you need.

She’d laughed hysterically, paused for a moment, and then laughed again. “I feel like I should be saying I told you so here. Somehow, someway, this feels like the moment for that.”

“People who lived in glass houses for over a year shouldn’t throw stones like that.”

That sobers her up, but only enough to stop laughing uncontrollably. She’s still giggling when she speaks. “Fair enough.”

“So can you get it for me?”

“What, he won’t give it to you?” She asks.

“I’m trying to do a thing here.” You tell her.

“Ah.” She says. “Alright, let me see what I can do.”

And so the day after their two week road trip, you found yourself standing in the hallway outside the locker room with Sasha and Ali, waiting for Matt to come out, the Tkachuk jersey feeling heavier than any other time you’ve worn his name before, and knowing that it has everything to do with the gesture you’re hoping it to be.

It seems like the entire organization comes out of the locker room before Matt does, so you endure knowing grins from both Johnny and Noah, as well as multiple other teammates you’re starting to recognize more and more, before Matt finally steps out.

He’s texting as he walks toward you, looking fine as hell in his suit and a little soft from his shower. You can feel the smile grow on your face as your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but you don’t have to pull it out to know who the text is from.

“Hey.”

Matt stops walking and looks up, shock clear in his face. His eyes flutter to his phone quickly and then back to you, like he’s wondering how you got there so quickly, but it only takes a minute before his eyes find the “A” on the corner of your jersey and the “19” on the sleeves. “Hi.”

You’re a little surprised he doesn’t have more to say than that, considering he never stops talking, but he seems content to let his eyes wander over his jersey on you. “Sorry I couldn’t come over last night.” You say, filling the quiet between you and tugging on the hem of the jersey to illustrate your point. “But I really did have some errands to run.”

Matt starts to grin. “You could have come over and saved yourself a few bucks.”

“You think I paid for this garbage?” You scoff and he’s crossing the hall to you in three steps to pull you into his arms.

“I hope you didn’t.” He says, holding you close to him and it takes everything in you not to just press up onto your tippy toes and kiss him, but you shake your head to clear it so you can finish your bit, making a mental note to thank Sasha for coming in clutch and managing to get the jersey for you without Matt knowing. “Would sure be a waste for my girlfriend to spend money on something I’d just give her anyway.”

“Awfully presumptuous.” 

“So tell me I’m wrong.” He grins cockily.

“You know what a shitty liar I am.” You start to return the smile but Matt’s kissing the grin off your face the second you finish speaking.

[adiwriting]

(gif by @darlingnotso​ <3 )

@arielana​ requested: I would love to see them actually talk about some of the moments from previous seasons that hurt or were awkward when they happened, for example ”ends with a whimper” or ”tortured lust/sup bro” (or anything else, so much tension to choose from). Not as a fight, but instead when they are cuddled up together, feeling safe, able to have a soft conversation about how they both felt and to comfort each other, realizing how far they have come, maybe able to tease each other about it even.

As always, prompts for this verse are open. Drop them in my inbox or message me  - anon is off for the time being while I wait for some hate to die down, but if you message me and want the request to remain anon, just say so and I will honor your privacy always <3 

PSA: As I stated last week, I will be putting money towards the Navajo Nation COVID-19 Relief Fund every time that I post Malex fic. If you are willing and able to help, feel free to donate as well, every small bit helps. My friend @michaels-blackhat​ also made an excellent post of other ways to help if you are unable to do so financially. 

Week 15

Alex sits between Michael’s legs on the chaise, leaning against his back as he drinks his morning coffee. The dogs are running around the yard, distracted for a change, giving them a quiet moment to themselves. Like they used to have before they adopted four dogs at once and their house had become complete chaos. Lovable chaos, a chaos that they both thrive under, but still chaos. 

“The garden looks great,” Alex comments. “Good job, babe.” 

Michael nuzzles his nose into his neck, his breath tickling Alex in the most delightful way. “Thanks, I’m thinking about building the dogs a playhouse next,” he says softly, leaving a trail of kisses. “It’s nice to have a yard.” 

“It’s nice to have somebody to tend to the yard,” he says, tilting his head to provide Micheal with greater access in his explorations. 

He’s stopped questioning all of Michael’s multiple projects a while ago. Alex just loves that he’s been making their house a home for them both. Something that’s uniquely both of theirs. It’s everything he’d hoped for when he’d bought this house. He’d been naive then and thought their path back together would be smooth. That the moment he showed up with open arms, Michael would be there waiting for him. 

Looking back, that hadn’t been fair. But Alex is glad that, despite everything, they’ve still managed to make it back to each other. 

He takes another sip of his coffee, smiling at the caramel Bailey’s that Michael had spiked it with. They’ve got nowhere to be today and it’s the perfect excuse to day drink. They’ve both had a long week between work and the latest alien drama and they deserve to spend the day doing nothing but lounging around. 

“I will happily tend to your yard whenever it’s needed,” Michael says. “Gotta make sure everything’s pristine in case Mrs. Register decides to call HOA on us again.” 

Alex freezes at the words and Michael immediately takes notice, stopping his kisses and pulling away to watch his face.

“It’s our yard,” he says carefully. 

They haven’t talked about this. Not really. Alex has been too nervous to mess up their domestic bliss with a potentially difficult conversation. After all, Michael is sleeping here every single night. It hardly seems important to get caught up on the semantics of it all. 

Except hearing Michael say ‘your’ instead of ‘our’ has a wave of panic moving through him and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t know why. 

Michael smiles at him and leans in to kiss him, but Alex pulls away before he can. 

It’s not the first time Michael has said something like this to him. Each time Alex has allowed Michael to kiss him and change the subject, brushing it away like it doesn’t matter. This time, though, it matters. 

Alex takes a deep breath, summoning all of his courage and prays he’s not about to ruin things between them. “Why do you always tell people you don’t live here.” 

“Um…” Michael looks away, shifting in his seat. Alex scoots back and sits on the edge of the chaise so that they can look at each other properly. “Because I don’t?” 

The words sting and Alex’s immediate impulse is to push back. To come back with biting words of his own and retain some power in the conversation. But those are old habits that got them nowhere in life, and they’ve both been working actively on doing better. He swallows down several mean and unhelpful retorts, before it processes in his mind that Michael isn’t looking at him with any spite.

Michael is playing with the fraying hem of his sweatpants. His shoulders are squared like he’s ready for war, but his eyes tell a different story. He’s nervous and insecure. He’s not preparing to go to battle, he’s bracing himself for bad news. 

Alex scoots closer and reaches out to place his hand on top of Michael’s. “You’re going to ruin those sweatpants if you keep pulling on that thread.” 

Michael looks up at him, and while he doesn’t reach out for Alex, he doesn’t stop Alex when he reaches to hold his hand properly with one hand, and threads his fingers through his hair with the other. In fact, he leans into the touch. 

“I consider this place as much yours as it is mine,” he says, knowing that Michael has to feel the same, at least to some degree. After all, he’s spent the last 3 months making this place into a home that works for both of them. Taking complete ownership of all the upgrades. 

Or maybe Alex was wrong. Maybe the fact that Michael has been constantly working to remodel the house is because he doesn’t feel at home here. There’s a twisting feeling in his gut that used to send him running for the hills, but he doesn’t do that anymore. He doesn’t run away from hard things. 

“You never asked me to move in with you,” Michael says pointedly. 

Alex snorts, dropping his hand from Michael’s hair. “That’s because you already live here. All of your things are here—”

“Not all of them,” he interrupts, defensively. 

Alex just keeps going. “And you already sleep here every night.” 

“That’s because it’s easier for you to move around here than the airstream with your crutches and all,” he argues. “Plus, the dogs need a fenced-in yard.”

“Michael,” Alex says, seriously. He waits a moment or two before Michael meets his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to move in with me because you were already here every night. It didn’t seem necessary.” 

“Is that the only reason?” he asks. 

Michael stares at him and it’s moments like this that he’s convinced Michael has the same psychic abilities as Isobel. He’s always able to see right through him. It was unnerving at first, but Alex has learned to appreciate it. He has somebody to call him on his bullshit. 

“I guess I was scared to ask because I didn’t want you to say no and lose all of this,” he admits. 

“Why would I say no?” Michael asks, not unkind but clearly confused. 

“Why would you say yes?” The words come out of his mouth faster than he can think and when he realizes what he’s just said, he’s positive that he’s just opened up a much bigger can of worms than simply a conversation about where Michael gets his mail delivered. 

Michael looks at him like he’s a dumbass. 

“Because I’m already here,” he says a fond smile growing slowly on his face. He tugs on Alex’s hand until he practically falls into Michael’s lap. They shift around until they are both comfortable, Alex with his head in Michael’s lap and Michael with his hands in Alex’s hair. 

“Does this ever feel temporary to you?” Alex asks, his voice barely a whisper, but Michael hears him just fine. 

“Like we’re living in a glass house?” he asks. Alex nods and Michael says, “Yeah.” 

“Why?” he asks, frustrated for the both of them. “We both know that we love each other.” 

Michael shrugs and leans his head back to look at the sky. “I guess I’ve never had anything permanent before. Or unconditional.” 

“You’ve had Max and Isobel,” he says. Alex’s own thoughts and feelings about Isobel and Max’s behavior towards Michael after Rosa died aside, Alex knows that they love their brother unconditionally. 

“Yeah, that’s different though,” Michael argues, and Alex almost misses it when he adds, “They’ve never left.” 

The defensive part of him nearly brings up the fact that Max died and left Michael to pick up the pieces, but that wouldn’t be fair nor would that help their relationship. They are supposed to be communicating. Alex has been working with his therapist on how to talk through his feelings without feeling the need to throw his walls up. 

“I’m not leaving,” is what he says instead, because it’s what Michael needs to hear.  

“I know,” Michael says quickly. 

“Do you?” he asks, watching Michael’s face carefully. 

“I do,” he says with a soft smile. “In my heart I do know that.” 

“But?” Alex asks, even though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Alex feels it sometimes, too. On his worst days when his insecurity gets the best of him, he starts questioning how long this can really last. 

“I guess it’s hard to trust that I’m worthy of it,” he says. 

Though it’s the answer that Alex expected, actually hearing the words shatters Alex’s heart. He knows that Michael has a laundry list of traumas that lead to him feeling insecure, but the fact that he’s contributed to that list actually breaks his heart. 

“I know that we never apologized for the things that happened before,” he says. 

Michael shakes his head. “We didn’t need to. We wiped the slate clean and promised to look forward together and do better.” 

“We did,” he says carefully, choosing his words wisely because he’s never been very good at conveying what he wants to say in a way that Michael can actually hear. “But maybe we should have talked about it first.” 

“Okay…” 

Michael squirms around in his seat like he wants to be done with this conversation, but his eyes tell a different story and that’s when Alex knows that he’s right. It had been easy when they first were getting together to just look ahead and stop keeping score. But pretending like they’ve never hurt each other in the past and aren’t perfectly capable of hurting each other again in the future if they aren’t careful was the easy answer. It allowed both of them to avoid a difficult conversation where they would have to face some pretty ugly truths about themselves. 

“You know all those times I walked away were never about you,” Alex tells him. 

“Weren’t they?” Michael says with a scoff. “You’re a decorated airman and I’m a criminal.” 

Alex sits up, angry at the words coming out of Michael’s mouth. 

“You’re not a criminal,” he says sharply. It doesn’t matter who is talking badly about Michael, even if it’s Michael himself — especially if it’s Michael himself — Alex is always going to get defensive. 

Michael gives him a knowing look and Alex deflates. “When I said that, I was out of line. I didn’t mean it.” 

“You meant it,” Michael says, eyes trained on the game of tug of war that Wendy and Peter are playing so he doesn’t have to look at Alex. 

“Maybe I did,” he relents. “But I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I was just frustrated.” 

“With me,” Michael says, always so quick to confirm whatever self-deprecating narrative he tells himself and Alex hates that. 

“No, that what happened with my dad unraveled your entire future,” he argues. “I felt so guilty for the fact that you didn’t become some brilliant engineer. I was mad at myself that I let my dad destroy your life.”

“What happened in that tool shed didn’t destroy my life, Noah did,” Michael says, tears filling his eyes. “Project Shepard did. Years of abusive foster homes did.” 

“I know that now,” he says. 

Michael opens his mouth a few times to speak, but closes it each time, shaking his head. Alex doesn’t say anything. Since adopting Bell, he’s been reading a lot about how to help animals that have been through severe trauma. He’s been surprised to find that so much of the literature relates to his own needs coming from an abusive home. He’s come to realize that both Michael and he have their own unique way of reacting to the trauma in their lives and those reactions, while they align nicely at times, often push against each other. 

This isn’t the time for Alex to force an answer out of Michael in an effort to gain the control that he feels he needs to be able to breathe. Alex needs to wait for Michael to come to him. He needs time. 

Bell comes over to them and Michael sits back so that she can jump onto the chaise with them and curl up between them. They both reach out to pet her, hands touching in the process and the smile that Michael gives him helps assure Alex that everything is going to be okay. Even as they discuss the ugliest parts of their relationship, there’s a trust there that Alex has never experienced before. 

Michael isn’t going anywhere. He never has. Even when things between them were at their worst, they still somehow always knew they could rely on each other. 

So Alex lets go of his need to control the conversation and refuses to allow his brain to start coming up with strategies on how to handle whatever Michael is going to throw at him. He just waits. Waits and trusts. 

“After you left that summer, I was really angry,” Michael finally says. “And I stayed mad for a long time. I used to hate that you could just show up, whenever you wanted and get whatever you wanted, and yet, I never seemed to get what I wanted.” 

Alex takes a deep breath, biting his tongue on the words that could so easily tumble out of his mouth right now. Nothing Michael is saying is untrue, it’s just bias. He doesn’t have the entire story, and that’s not Michael’s fault. That’s Alex’s fault. 

“I never got what I wanted either,” he says with tears in his eyes. “I wanted you. I wanted this.” He gestures around at the home that he thought they were building together. That he hopes they still are building together. 

“I know that now,” Michael says, repeating his words back to him with a soft smile. 

“I know that you were just being defensive because you needed to guard your heart and couldn’t trust me to stay… but when I first came back, the way you would speak to me sometimes just broke my heart,” Alex admits. “I fell in love with a boy who would whisper the cheesiest romantic lines in my ear, and I came home to a man who was sarcastic and bitter and looking to hurt me.” 

“I think we both were looking to hurt each other at times and knew exactly which button to press,” Michael says. “I’m not proud of how I acted when you first came home.” 

“You can be proud of some of it,” Alex teases, trying to lighten the mood since Michael’s face is starting to look too sad for his liking. 

“Like the reunion kiss?” 

“That was a good kiss,” he says, remembering how relieved he had been when Michael had finally reached out and taken what both of them wanted but Alex didn’t know how to ask for. “Or that time you told me you never look away.” 

Michael shakes his head making a face. “I don’t like that memory.” 

“Why?” he wonders. 

There aren't a whole lot of memories when Alex first came back to Roswell that he’d describe as happy, but pretty much everything from Michael telling him he never looks away right up until Isobel had shown up with those damn bagels, Alex holds pretty close to his heart. 

“Do you really feel like I’m the one that looks away?” he asks with a deep frown. “Like I was the one to leave back then?” 

“You never even said goodbye.” Alex isn’t trying to start a fight here, but Michael has to get that he’s the one that pushed first. 

“I was in jail,” he says defensively. 

“You got locked up on purpose,” Alex says, not letting go of this one. It’s one of the pains that has fed a large chunk of his Michael related insecurities. That Michael didn’t care enough about him to give him a goodbye. That perhaps Michael hadn’t loved him as much as he’d told Alex he did. 

“I didn’t know how to say goodbye to you,” Michael says, grabbing his hand over Bell, his eyes imploring him to understand. “My entire life was falling apart and you were the only good thing I had… Then you told me that you were leaving me and you never even explained why. You just said it like it was no big deal and I had all of 36 hours to adjust to the news that you were shipping off.” 

“I didn’t say I was leaving you. I told you I was leaving,” he corrects him. 

“Same thing.” 

“I would have made it work,” he said. “To keep you, I would have done long distance.” 

Michael shakes his head. “No, Alex. You wouldn’t have.” 

“I would have tried,” he argues. 

“Really? You would have risked everything with your dad and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell? You would have risked that all for me?” Michael says with disbelief.  

Alex sighs, thinking back to what things were like for them back then. Perhaps Michael is right. Maybe he was too broken and scared back then to fight for what he wanted. But he’s not that boy anymore. 

“I wanted to. I wanted you. I just… I couldn’t deal with everything,” he admits. Michael reaches over to wipe a tear from Alex’s cheek. “I’m willing to risk everything for you now though.” 

“I know,” Michael says, thumb caressing his cheek lovingly. “I know you are and I love you for it.” 

“I wish I had been braver back then,” Alex says. 

“Hey, we’re here now, right?” he says, and Alex is so grateful that they are at this point in their relationship where they can talk about these things without it dissolving into a huge fight. But still, it doesn’t change the fact that not talking about all of their past has led to both of them feeling insecure in their relationship. 

Alex leans over Bell to give Michael a sweet kiss. When they break apart, Michael has that look on his face like he wants to say more but isn’t sure he should. 

“What?” 

“Was I really that bad?” Michael asks. “I mean, I know I was getting into fights, but I was getting into fights with the town bigots. It’s not like you never punched any of those assholes. And I was stealing because I couldn't go to the doctor and I couldn’t afford medical supplies. But I was never violent around you. The worst I ever did around you was smoke weed, and half the time you were the one supplying it.” 

Alex debates how to explain it to Michael in a way that he’ll understand. Even now, with some distance and time, he’s not entirely sure that he was seeing things clearly back then. To Alex, it didn’t matter that he rarely saw Michael drunk and out of control, or that he never actually saw him in any of the fights around town. He heard about each of them. 

And each time he would hear about it, all he could think about was his dad, who would come home to get drunk most nights and with each drink his abuse would shift from emotional to physical. He didn’t want to stick around and see how long it would take for Michael to escalate. 

Now, he knows that Michael never would have. He knows that Michael has spent his entire life learning to control his temper and his powers. That he never drinks enough to lose control. That he never lets himself get violent with anyone unless they’ve said something hateful about somebody he cares about. Michael is soft and good. He’s not the kind of man who thrives under anger and violence. 

But how was Alex supposed to know that at the time? All he’d ever known was anger and violence. 

“You weren’t the only one who never had anything permanent or unconditional,” he says instead. “I didn’t know what I was doing either. Or how to help. And I didn’t know how to handle the guilt I felt around you for what happened with my dad. I think… I think it was easier for me to run.” 

“Run off to war,” Michael says, giving him a look that has Alex rolling his eyes. 

“Yes, I see the irony, thanks,” he says, rubbing at his leg. “It’s not like my dad gave me much choice in the matter.” 

“So he forced you into it?” Michael asks. “When I asked you if your dad was making you do it, you brushed me off. Gave me some bullshit line about finding your own power.” 

“My dad told me that I was either going to enlist or I would be cut off completely,” he said. “Those had been my options since junior year when I started looking at colleges. I was prepared to be cut off. But after Rosa died and Liz left and you started spiraling… I just didn’t feel like I had anyone.” 

“You had Maria.” 

“Maria was never leaving Roswell. And I sure as hell wasn’t staying. So I enlisted,” he says. “I know it must sound stupid to you, the fact that I didn’t know how to survive without my dad’s money… But I didn’t. And I still really wanted his approval for some stupid reason. I felt like… Like maybe if I enlisted…” 

“Like he would finally love you,” Michael finishes for him. 

Alex nods. “I know you think I’m stupid for giving him so many chances to be a decent human being.”

Michael looks like he’s about to give an angry retort of his own, but swallows it down. “I should never have called you stupid that day, I was just frustrated,” Michael says. “I’m just not like you. People suck and the world is overwhelmingly awful. My anger does make me feel safe. It’s what fuels my power. I don’t know how to let it go and I’m not sure I want to.” 

“You don’t have to,” Alex says quickly. “I mean I do hope that you eventually will. Because anger is bad for your health and I’m assuming that is true whether you’re human or alien. But it’s not fair for me to criticize your healing process. We both have a lot of trauma in our backgrounds. And we survived this long because we each came up with different coping mechanisms to get through. We shouldn’t judge each other or expect each other to deal with things in the same way.” 

“Did Dr. Celan tell you that during your last checkup with Bell?” Michael asks with a teasing smile, wiping away the tears from his eyes before Alex has a chance to. 

“Hey, dog trauma and people trauma isn’t that different,” Alex argues. 

John comes walking over to them and collapses on the ground beside them, whining in the way he always does. 

“Guess it’s probably time to get them back inside in the air conditioning,” Michael says, leaning down to pick John up and hold him against his chest. 

Alex looks across the yard to where Wendy and Peter are currently harassing a poor rabbit. “Wendy! Peter! Leave that thing alone!” Alex calls after them. 

“Let ‘em. That damn rabbit is going to destroy the garden,” Michael complains. 

“Yeah and the moment those two idiots bring a dead bloody rabbit to the door, I’m going to lose my mind,” he says. 

“You’ve been to war and a dead rabbit is too much?” Michael teases.  

“What if they eat it?” 

“You worry too much,” Michael says, standing up and walking towards the door, whistling for the kids to come inside. 

“Says the dad who literally carries that one everywhere,” Alex says, grabbing his crutch so that he can follow everyone into the house. 

“He gets cold,” Michael says defensively, covering John’s little ears as if his feelings might get hurt. “And his legs get tired.” 

Alex smiles at him fondly, rolling his eyes. Michael is ridiculous but he loves him for it. Seeing Michael with the dogs has only increased Alex’s desire to see Michael with a baby. With their baby. But they shouldn’t get too ahead of themselves. First, he has to convince Michael to move in. 

“So, back to the original topic,” he says. 

“Which was?” Michael asks, distracted as he puts John down in the kitchen in front of his water bowl. 

“Moving in with me.” 

Michael stands up and gives him an amused smile. “Are you asking?” 

Alex lets out an annoyed huff at Michael being deliberately obtuse, because he knows that Alex isn’t always the best with his words. But if Michael wants to hear him say it, he can do that. 

“Michael Guerin, will you move in with me,” he asks. 

Michael beams at him, moving to stand in front of him and place his hands on Alex’s waist. “Of course. I was waiting for you to ask.” 

“I want you here,” Alex assures him. “Always.” 

Alex leans in and captures Michael’s lips with his own, tasting the coffee and Baileys on Michael’s lips as well. His hand slides up Michael’s sides as they shift closer together and deepen the kiss. He holds onto his crutch with his hand, feeling unsteady, but trusting Michael to make sure he doesn’t fall. His hand moves around his shoulder until it finally finds its way into his beautiful curls. Their tongues slide against each other as they both pull one another closer, Alex feeling Michael support his weight with his telekinesis, so that he doesn’t have to cling so tightly to the crutch. Alex’s hand moves to pull at the drawstring of Michael’s sweatpants when Michael pulls back. 

“Before we change the subject completely,” Michael says, sounding out of breath, which gives Alex endless satisfaction. “Can I tell you something?” 

Alex nods. 

“I’m not angry all of the time,” he says. 

Alex gives him a confused look. Unsure what he’s getting at. 

“You said that you want me to let go of my anger and I said that I wasn’t sure that I wanted to,” he says. Alex nods. He remembers. “I’m not angry all of the time.” 

“Okay...” 

“I’m not angry when I’m here with you. With the dogs. I’m actually pretty content,” he admits. 

Watching the way that Michael smiles at him, Alex is pretty sure that he understands exactly what Michael is talking about — He’s never been more content in his life.

Tagged: @callieramics​ @redstalkingdeath​ @alexmaanes​

[theobxhummingbird]

RATHER DIE FROM LOVE. -JJ MAYBANK X READER.

Summary: JJ joins a cooking class with John B, and so happens to be taught by his long time crush from the island.

A/N: My JJ series is personal to me, I cannot explain. It’s what I started this blog for, and am so happy to be able to still write for it. OBX family forever. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

(GIF CREDITS TO OWNER)

-

It took John B a long time, to finally unstick JJ from the old couch, and drag him to the Volkswagen. He’s been planning to cook for their dinner date with Sarah; which was his biggest mistake in the first place, for promising her and at the same time lying that he can cook, that all that came to his head was joining in on a culinary class a group of students held in the Outer Banks. He was lucky, OBX gave even that chance to save him from embarrassing himself in front of his girlfriend.

And of course, John B being John B, brought both JJ and Pope with himself for support, knowing Pope’s the smarter one, and JJ...he was just there to be present.

-I don’t understand why I’m going? -JJ shut the door, -Like, I don’t even own the C from cooking. How am I supposed to go there, not knowing what even the vegetables are called?

-JJ, it’s a class, that’s why they’re held, so people can learn. -John B turned the keys, and started the car, leaving the Chateau.

-What if we get salmonella, huh? Did you think about that? We have to try the food.

-You eat moldy breads, your organism is used to it. -Pope added from the back.

-That’s not the case now Pope, shut up. -JJ tried to give some reasons for them to get back so he could sleep in all day. -Look bro, we can go back while we have time. Think about it.

-I promised Sarah I’ll cook her dinner. And the only thing I know is making a toast, that I end up burning every time.

-That was your first mistake---promising. -said JJ, and rested his elbow on the window.

-

He looked like a little kid, brought to the doctor’s without his willingness. JJ sluggishly followed John B and Pope to the sign up stand, and when they got their badges, a table of cooking equipment was waiting for them.

-Did you take band aids, in case we murder each other? -JJ said to Pope.

-Why would we use band aids, if we’re murdering each other?

-I don’t know what I’m saying bro, it was the first and stupidest thing that came to mind. -he observed the table detail by detail.

-Ssh, the class is starting. Our teacher’s approaching the tables. -John B whispered to them. And just like struck from reality, and happiness at the same time, JJ’s mouth dropped to his feet. His eyes focused on her, and only blurred out everyone around except her. JJ’s skin littered with goosebumps, and Pope noticed he’s not listening to anything at the moment, even John B repeating the same words to him, so nudging him came the first thing to save his friend from embarrassing himself.

-Your name? -said one of the students.

-Beautiful...-JJ trailed his eyes to where she was going, but when Pope cleared his throat after the nudging didn’t work, JJ was back to reality, -Huh---Oh, JJ...Maybank, JJ Maybank.

-Bro, what beautiful are you talking about? -him and Pope started laughing at their friend.

-Dude, that’s the girl I’ve been talking to you about. The one I saw at the kegger, Y/N. Oh how she’s pretty in daylight.

-See, coming here wasn’t so bad after all.

-Shut up, let’s get you die of salmonella, rather than die from Sarah. -he said, and took a hold of whatever the others did.

-You have a whole hour to complete a meal, and I’ll come and taste each one. Please don’t make a mess, or borrow things from others. Everyone has their ingredients in front of them. We’ll be helping you all with cutting, stirring, or whatever you need a help with. Okay? -she said, and when everyone approved she jogged to the radio and put some music on, and started dancing her way to the table.

The student group also cooked something, and she was mostly present there, and also being present at the other tables.

-Wait, wait. -she appeared next to JJ, -You can’t cut these too big, for else they won’t be easy to fry, -Watch. Slowly, and they’ll be thin. And don’t press on the knife too hard...uh....

-JJ. -he said, leaning on the counter and glancing at her lips.

-JJ, don’t press the knife to hard. Watch. -she gave him the knife, and positioned her hand on top of his, as they both cut some fries.

She danced her way to one of her guy friends, and they both danced to the music. Y/N held the energy of the group, and it made everyone willing to work, because usually classes like this were said to be too boring. But the girl seemed skillful when it came to entertainment and professionalism.

-That blonde guy over there, has been drooling over you this whole class. -her friend secretively tried to seem as if dancing, just to whisper her that sentence.

-Who? JJ? When I heard his name, I instantly knew he’s the well-known heartthrob in the Outer Banks. I’m not his type sweetie.

-Are you joking? It’s been said that he has a crush on you, but you didn’t hear it from me. -she sang-song the last bit, and moved to the tables that needed help.

-What were you talking about? -he said, and Y/N just shrugged her shoulders, dancing to distract him so he couldn’t ask too many questions, or that same one over and over again.

JJ didn’t even take in one thing from the class, his eyes were darting whenever her figure popped up at a table or he saw her moving around, dancing and singing.

-Bro, I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this same thing for Sarah tonight. -John B felt hopeless from the class, but he really did succeed in making a meal that day. As well as JJ and Pope.

-Sht, -Y/N’s best friend nudged JJ, -I didn’t give it to you, okay?

-Wha-JJ took the tissue paper.

-Y/N’s Instagram and number. You’re not too secretive, Mr. Maybank, it’s obvious. I didn’t give it to you, hey, remember that.

John B and Pope were dying of laughter next to him, -Dude, the whole class realized you like the girl.

-Don’t joke with me, or you’ll feed Sarah with algae and snails. -he said, and shoved the tissue in his pocket.

-Disgusting. -said Pope and continued with whatever he was inventing at the moment. -Bro, I’m for math and physics, not gastronomy.

-If you weren’t forced to cook, I would’ve positioned you with the job of counting how much more time we have. -said John B.

-We have 15 minutes John B, and you’re still not even on the sauce.

The timer beeped, and everyone left what they were doing, and the students came to each, taste what the others have made. Praising some, and definitely giving a few critics to others, the class was over, and the money collected were donated to the charity that helped with saving the Outer Banks animals.

With John B being happy with his one-day cooking skills, Pope thrilled he’ll rest, and JJ more happy than the both of them for having the girl’s number and Instagram, the three of them headed for the Chateau, where Kie was waiting.

-John B you’re supposed to be making this yourself. -she said, setting the romantic table for the two.

-What are friends for Kie? To help each other. -he said, trying to make the plates look like he’s been working as a chef at The Wreck his whole life.

-Dude, I don’t even know how to fold these napkins. -said JJ, trying to watch a tutorial on YouTube on how to make them a heart.

-Give me that. -Pope got annoyed at how he crumbled a 100 by that time, and grabbed them from his hands.

The table was set, and it looked amazing. Everyone promised they will keep the secret, saying the following : “No Pogue on Pogue-exposing”.

-Get lost now, so Sarah doesn’t get suspicious when she sees you here. -he said, and fixed himself.

Kie, Pope and JJ, all got outside and decided to visit the Wreck for their dinner. It wasn’t fancy like John B’s, but it was enough for them.

-J, did you text Y/N? -said Pope, filling a glass of water.

-Nah dude, I can’t pull myself to do it.

-Who’s Y/N? -said Kie.

-The girl that taught us how to cook, who also happened to be JJ’s crush from the kegger.

-Oh the girl that you couldn’t stop talking about. Oh, now I see.

-Yeah, and one of her friends gave me her number and Instagram.

-Because old chap JJ, wasn’t secretive at all, and the girl saw that.

-At least I got her number, what did you get? No culinary scholarship.

-Don’t hit my soft spot like that. -he said, holding his left side.

-Then DM her, what, are you waiting for an invite? -said Kie.

JJ opened searched her name, and opened clicked on the message:

JJ: Hey, it’s JJ from the class today.

Y/N: Hiiiii JJ, how are you?

JJ: I’m good, how are you?

Y/N: I’m doing good, thank you.

JJ: So um---I found your Instagram account, and didn’t know if it would be creepy to write to you after today’s class immediately, but I thought why not, so here I am.

Y/N: No problem, it’s not creepy at all don’t worry.      

JJ: I actually saw you at a kegger, a few weeks ago.

Y/N: Oh really. Hmm, I wasn’t paying attention to the people, because my friends from abroad were there and I wanted to spend some time with them. But if I was, then there would’ve probably been a chance of seeing you.

JJ: It’s fine, I spotted you anyways.

Y/N: Yeah, you did. 😊 

JJ: Are you down for some drinks tomorrow, my treat?

Y/N: Sure, why not, let’s get to know each other.

JJ: I’ll pick you up, then we can go to one of mine and the Pogues’ favorite cafe here in the OBX.

Y/N: That sounds perfect, see you tomorrow then?

JJ: See you tomorrow. 😁

Y/N: Bye, JJ Maybank. 🥰

JJ: Bye, Y/N Y/L/N. 🥰

-She’s one chill person bro, let me tell you. -said Pope reading the DMs they sent each other.

-You’re going on a date with her, that’s what matters. -added Kie.     

-I’m so excited, my feet are itching. -said JJ, rubbing them together.

-I think you need to wash them, that’s why they itch.

-Pope, I didn’t know you’re a dermatologist bro. -JJ rolled his eyes, and reread the texts with Y/N. Nothing mattered to him at the moment; when they got to the Chateau, he plopped on the hammock, thinking of what he’ll do with Y/N tomorrow. And she seemed to do the same, because after hours of stalking his Instagram profile, some sort of excitement was born in her. OBX’s biggest flirt wanted to go on a date with her, still sounded surreal to her and it had her shook for a long time, until she fell asleep.         

The both of them met at the decided place, and obviously chilled Y/N went in for a hug, which left JJ a bit confused though he played it off nicely. They went inside the cafe and ordered their drinks.

-How’s the milkshake? -he pointed to the glass with his eyebrows.

-It’s the best one I’ve drunk so far. -she giggled. -It really is, I swear.

-Okay, okay I believe you. -he let out a short laugh.

-I like the place as well, retro-vintage style is my absolute favorite for cafes.

-Yeah, I like it too. -he said, looking at her as her eyes wandered around.

-So, are we just going to talk about the place, or are you going to say what you’ve been trying to, and I’ve been waiting for?

-Haha, I’m that obvious huh? 

-I mean---a little bit. -she laughed.

-Okay, okay. See, I’m never a straight-forward person. I throw in words, but never tell what I want to. I like you Y/N, and have liked you since the kegger. And now, that I have you in front of me, I am asking you if you want to be my girlfriend?

-I do, JJ. I do want to be your girlfriend. And maybe, I don’t know, I seem like I’m not interested, I like you too. You are a fun person, and I know I’ll have fun and happy times with you, so yes we can date.

His hand travelled to hers, and he kissed her knuckles. After a long time of peeking for each other at keggers, the two got to be face to face at one table. Sometimes expressing love, doesn’t need many gestures. Just a few confessions of what two really feel for each other, is enough to form a bond they’ll soon need to take care of. And Y/N and JJ did the same; without complicating it and talking to each other, they could now call each other ‘us’.

[smooshjames]

Promise?

smash bros, gay panic, and spicy cheese jell-o salad: the story of two women in love

word count: 4.4k

a/n: first courtney work and i gotta say, i’m extremely proud of this one. i hope i did the request justice! as always, here’s a link to my ko-fi if you want / are able to donate, which is, of course, never an obligation. whether you support me with your money or just with your eyes, i’m so grateful that you take the time to read my work, and i hope you enjoy!

warnings: some mild angst, mostly just gay panic and fluff, exceedingly dramatic descriptions of super smash bros gameplay

request: here

The first time you appeared as a guest on Smosh, they had you film a Try Not To Laugh. When that went over well with the fans, they invited you back for another. Then you appeared on a SmoshCast, and then an Eat It or Yeet It. And on it went. You became a staple to the community. You loved Smosh, though you declined to work there full time (you had enough of your own independent creative pursuits without adding on a full-time job, no matter how wonderful that full-time job might be).

But more than just the larger following and the fond memories that Smosh had gotten you, you also found quite a few good friends. You spent time with the Squad constantly, always going out to lunch or coffee, getting invited to dinner parties and other random hangouts, playing video games with Damien or talking with Sarah well into the night. Despite not officially working at Smosh, you had been accepted into the family, and you had come to consider the cast and crew as some of your closest friends.

All this to say that when Ian reached out to ask if you wanted to participate in a video for Smosh Games, you said yes without a second thought. It was a pretty casual video, just everyone sitting around and playing Smash Bros. There were two twists, one tamer than the other. The first was that everyone had to choose random characters, which was to prevent people who played the game a lot from picking their mains; it would provide some interest as people struggled to learn the mechanics of characters they didn’t usually play. The second twist was that at the end of each round, whoever won got to choose a punishment for whoever lost (losing, in this instance, defined as being the first person out). You settled on the familiar red couch with Courtney next to you and Shayne to her right. Damien, Keith, Noah, Matt, and Sarah settled in chairs around and behind you.

Shayne introduced the video and the rules, explained a few of the punishments that the winner would get to choose from (and that the loser would have to endure), and then the game began. Everyone hit the randomize button. Various groans of annoyance and/or cheers of pleasant surprise went up around you. Matt lucked out with Bowser, Shayne got Isabelle, Keith got Lucario. You had Villager, which you felt pretty neutral about.

Immediately, you set your sights on Courtney. Of everyone at Smosh, you were by far closest to her. The two of you had hit it off instantly and become fast friends. Though, much to your excitement and frustration, it sometimes seemed like she wanted it to be something more. The two of you were constantly flirting back and forth, veiled as teasing or just Friendly Complimenting. There was one incident that would be seared into your brain until the day you died: the time she had gotten a little too drunk at a party and leaned in to kiss you fully on the lips, but you’d been interrupted by Shayne before she could. You had fallen asleep in the same bed multiple times, for multiple reasons: the time she had called you after a bad breakup and you held her while she cried; the time you called her after a bad breakup; the time you’d been too drunk to make it home, so she’d invited you to stay the night at her place but neither of you wanted to make the other sleep on the couch so you just both slept on the bed. All things that could be explained away as close friendship (except maybe the almost kiss, but that was explained away with alcohol; you were pretty sure she didn’t even remember it). It wasn’t like you weren’t physical with your other friends. You’d cuddled with Sarah and held Shayne’s hand. But all that stuff felt way different when you did it with Courtney. With Courtney, it felt consequential, important.

Even now, having her next to you on the couch had your heart pounding in your chest. The couch was small (more a loveseat than anything), so her leg was pressed against yours from ankle to hip. Your arm kept brushing against hers as you played. You could smell the occasional whiff of her perfume.

You were in full, unadulterated gay panic.

But you also had a game to win. You weren’t a sore loser under normal circumstances, but one of the punishments involved drinking straight mayonnaise and you were not about to endure that. You knew you just had to outlast someone else, and you figured you could tease Courtney in the process. You went after her every opportunity you got, managing to knock her off twice.

The first round came to a close. Damien won and Noah lost. Damien chose to tweet something on Noah’s account, which Noah wasn’t allowed to delete or address; he just had to leave it up to let people speculate about it until the video came out. Damien strung together a bunch of non sequiturs that made exactly no sense, the group laughed, and the next round began.

In the second round, you went after Courtney yet again. It was fun to antagonize her; being as expressive as she was, she couldn’t keep a poker face, and she kept yelling unintelligible threats at you as her character plummeted off the side of the stage. As you laughed gleefully at her annoyance, you flashed back to the time in third grade when one of the boys wouldn’t stop pulling your hair on the playground. When you’d complained to your mother, she told you that he probably had a crush on you and didn’t know how to deal with it (she’d also told you to stand up for yourself, which led to you kicking the kid where the sun doesn't shine, which was a very interesting meeting between you, your teacher, and your mother; but that’s a story for another day).

Point being, you realized now how that kid had felt.

Once again, at the end of round two, you didn’t win or lose. You were perfectly content to run in the middle of the pack. In fact, until the last round, you were actively trying not to win. Your strategy for this game was going unnoticed. If you won too much, everyone would start to target you; if you lost too much, you’d have to deal with punishments.

By round three, you and Courtney were in a complete, unspoken war. The two of you ignored the other players as much as you possibly could, choosing instead to constantly pursue each other. She got a few hits in on you, but you were too good; months of playing with Damien and Shayne had prepared you for this moment. You knocked her off once, twice, three times. Your trash talk was louder and more constant than anyone else’s. Even Damien and Shayne weren’t ribbing each other as much as you and Courtney.

Round four went similarly. You knocked her off once, and then again. As her character fell into the abyss, she looked like she was sincerely considering putting her controller through the television screen.

God, you were in love with her.

“Y/N!” she said. You’d never heard such visceral exasperation. You went after her once again.

“What’s up?” you asked, voice light and breezy. It was a joke you’d picked up from Damien. You forced her character off the screen and she shouted so loud you were pretty sure passersby might’ve thought she was getting murdered.

“Quit it or I’ll bite!” she yelled. Shayne started laughing so hard that Noah managed to knock him off the stage while he was distracted.

Maybe it was the sheer adrenaline you felt as you turned to fight Keith, maybe it was the fact that you were so utterly love drunk, maybe you just weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, maybe you were desperate for the last word. You weren’t sure why you said what you said next, but you sure as hell said it, and the room sure as hell went quiet when you did.

“Promise?”

There was a second, two seconds, three, of silence as everyone processed what you’d said. And then the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Meanwhile, on the screen, Keith beat you, and then Shayne beat him, and then Matt forced Shayne off the edge of the stage and was declared the winner of round four.

Sarah had lost, and as Matt doled out her punishment (drinking mayo, the one you’d been so staunchly against), you snuck a glance at Courtney. She was completely occupied with cheering Sarah on; she barely even noticed you looking at her. She didn’t seem particularly upset by what you’d said. In fact, she didn’t seem upset at all. It looked like she had just shrugged it off as a joke, which both relieved and disappointed you.

On the one hand, it was good that she hadn’t realized the deeper meaning behind your words — or, well. Word. Singular. If she had realized just how serious you were, your friendship might have gotten weird or awkward. You figured she didn’t like you back; if she had, she would’ve asked you out by now. You knew that Courtney wasn’t the type to stop being friends with someone just because of a crush, but you didn’t want her to think that your friendship with her had ulterior motives or anything like that.

On the other hand, you sort of wished she had taken it seriously. After all, she flirted back with you, and she initiated physical contact more often than you did. There had also been the infamous Almost Kiss Incident of 2019. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, there was something there. As much as you tried to rationalize it away, you couldn’t ignore the lingering touches, the tenderness she seemed to save for you and only you, the double entendres that came with a joking eyebrow waggle but a serious heat in her gaze. Maybe you needed to take the initiative.

So went the paradox you’d found yourself stuck inside of. It seemed like you had a good shot if you made the first move, but it might get weird if you were reading the signs wrong, which meant you did nothing, and maybe she took that as a signal that you weren’t interested, which meant she did nothing, which you took as a signal that she wasn’t interested, rinse and repeat.

Feelings were a complicated web and you were very close to throwing in the towel completely. Maybe you could fast forward to the inevitable spinster-slash-cat-lady days which seemed to be your destiny.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about it. Round five was starting, and round five had the biggest punishment of all, which meant you were really screwed if you lost. Plus, whenever you let yourself overanalyze your relationship with Courtney, you ended up with a migraine and exactly no progress on your game plan.

“Y/N,” she said as the round began, “let’s call a truce until it’s just us. And then we can settle this one on one.”

“Hm,” you said, pretending to think about it even as you turned away from her and started attacking Noah. “Tempting. But it sounds a little bit like you’re just trying to get me off your ass for a while since I’m so much better at Smash Bros than you.”

You heard someone (probably Damien) let out a low “oooo” from somewhere behind you. You were barely conscious of your surroundings. Your world had narrowed to the screen in front of you and the feeling of Courtney’s thigh pressed warmly against yours.

“No,” she said. She was fending off Shayne and Damien simultaneously, which was actually really impressive. Courtney was a good Smash player when you weren’t beating the shit out of her. You made a mental note to tease her about that later. “I just want to settle this without distraction. Then we’ll see who the better Smash player really is — damn it!” Shayne had gotten the better of her and knocked her off the stage.

“I’ll call a truce with you on one condition. If we both survive to the end of the game, whoever loses has to take the punishment.”

She considered. These were technically not the rules of the challenge: in the last four rounds, it had been that whoever died first had to take the punishment, rather than whoever died second-to-last. But you wanted to up the stakes, and hey, no one could say you didn’t know good television.

“Fine,” she said. Everyone else murmured their assent; it was better for them, anyway, since it basically guaranteed they wouldn’t have to take the punishment.

And it was settled. The two of you stayed away from each other. The game went on. After a few minutes, as you forced Keith off the edge for the third time, you realized that you and Courtney were the only two left. There was silence for a moment as you sized each other up in real life, both of your characters frozen in their respective places on the screen. All your friends were holding their breath.

You held your hand out to Courtney. “May the best woman win,” you said, and you meant it. She took your hand and shook it firmly, and you felt like the bones in your arm were melting as she did it. Even that simple touch was enough to have your heart pounding. Every nerve in your hand stood at attention. And as you pulled away, the feeling lingered like an electric shock.

The next few minutes were fraught with tension. You’d never fought harder in a Smash Bros game in your life. Courtney was fighting with a vengeance, and she was so good that you wondered for a moment if she’d been letting you win earlier. All of your trash talk ceased as the two of you focused on the game with the intensity of people whose lives were actually at stake. Your friends were forced to provide commentary as you and Courtney played silently, utterly focused, but you were barely hearing them. At one point, you felt Damien rubbing your shoulders and you were distantly aware of Shayne doing the same to Courtney, both of them talking in your ears like trainers at a boxing match. Matt was doing his best sports announcer imitation.

She killed you. You killed her. She killed you. The two of you were each down to one life. The playing field was completely even. Your fingers flew across your controller. You had broken an actual sweat.

And then, the unthinkable: Courtney, the underdog, forced you off the edge of the stage. The room erupted. Everyone was screaming, yourself included. It was absolute madness. Shayne grabbed Courtney’s wrist and held her hand in the air like the ref at the end of a match. Sarah and Matt were jumping around behind the couch. You were yelling things that even you couldn’t make sense of. Keith and Noah were scream-laughing and leaning on each other for support.

It took a solid couple minutes for everyone to settle down, and then it was time for your punishment, which had been kept a strict secret until this moment. Courtney didn’t get to choose anything. All anyone knew was that it was the worst of them all. Your heart was thundering from adrenaline and anticipation.

You knew you were in for a treat (in the worst possible sense of the word) when Garrett entered the room with a silver platter. You had a flashback to the ghost pepper pasta you’d been forced to eat on Eat It or Yeet It. Your heart dipped.

“No…” you said, more to yourself than anything. Everyone waited with bated breath as Garrett walked in and set the platter on the coffee table before you. You took a deep breath. You looked at the camera. “Well,” you said, “if this is what kills me, it’s been real.”

You uncovered the platter. It was a Jell-O salad, that much was clear. The smell had your stomach churning. It was indescribable, but if you had to try, you’d describe it as boys’ locker room with a side of wasabi. You picked up the fork and poked at it a little. You were pretty sure you heard Courtney gag as the smell hit her.

“Do I get a puke bucket?” you asked. You were actually kind of terrified for your digestive tract. A crew member walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with the Eat It or Yeet It bucket. Fitting.

You got as much of the Jell-O salad onto your fork as you could and, with the bucket firmly in hand, put the bite in your mouth. You gagged, but persevered. Somehow, it tasted better than it smelled. That’s not to say it tasted good (it didn’t), just that the dirty sock smell got buried under the wasabi/ghost pepper/whatever spicy bullshit Garrett had found this week.

You swallowed, grimacing all the while, and opened your mouth for the cameras to see. Everyone clapped, you felt Keith put a hand on your shoulder, and Courtney began doing the outro for the video. She asked where the fans could find you. You plugged your Twitter and YouTube as usual. Someone brought you bread so you could drown out the spice in your mouth.

The cameras cut and you stood up, eager to stretch your legs after sitting on the couch for so long. “That was fun,” you said. Everyone agreed. Courtney stood up, nodded, and then made her way out of the room. Your heart dropped. You couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with you. Maybe she had been freaked out by your comment but just didn’t show it while you were recording. Maybe you’d hurt her feelings by singling her out throughout the game. Maybe the smell of your Jell-O salad had been so bad she needed a bathroom.

As you watched her go, Shayne sidled up next to you. “‘Promise?’” he asked in his best imitation of you, shit-eating grin on his face. You turned and slapped him on the arm.

Shayne knew about your crush. You’d been forced to tell him after he caught you in the middle of the Almost Kiss Incident. You had tried to play it off, say she was just drunk, say it didn’t mean anything to you, but Shayne was smart. He saw right through you. You had confessed your feelings. He’d been doing his best to help the two of you ever since, but he absolutely refused to tell you what he knew about how she felt; if she reciprocated your feelings and Shayne knew about it, he wasn’t letting you in on the secret. He insisted that it wasn’t his place to tell you one way or the other, which you respected as an adult and as his friend, but despised as someone stuck in romantic limbo.

“Shut up,” you muttered. You glanced back toward the door where Courtney had exited. “Did she seem upset to you?”

Shayne just shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. And then he nudged your arm with his elbow and nodded pointedly toward the door. “I’m sure she’d tell you if you asked. You’re pretty much her best friend.”

“I don’t know…” you said. “What if it’s because of me?”

“Then she’ll tell you and you’ll talk it out like the grown women that you are.”

You bit your lip, debating. You knew he was right (Shayne, when he dropped all the bravado and the Comedy Man act, was seldom wrong).

“Go, Y/N,” he said.

You squared your shoulders and left the soundstage in search of Courtney.

You found her sifting through costumes on the Try Not to Laugh set. You knew that she came here sometimes to think of new bits and clear her head, so finding her now didn’t come as a surprise. You closed the door behind you and then knocked on it quietly to let her know you were there. She jumped, but relaxed when she realized it was you.

“Hey,” you said. Being alone with her had the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. “You ran off kinda fast after we wrapped the video. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded and turned back to the costume rack. Her hands were shaking slightly, that much you saw from your position by the door. You wanted to hug her, but given the events of the day, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. You waited for her to say or do something; you decided you would let her lead.

Finally, she took in a sharp breath and turned to you. There was something utterly indescribable in her eyes, but whatever it was sent you overboard. You felt like you’d been launched into space without a helmet, screaming inaudibly, head about to explode from the pressure. The look on her face almost made your knees buckle; you had to grab the doorknob behind you to stay upright.

“Are we…” she stopped, took another breath, and started again. “Am I fucking insane for thinking that whatever we are, we’re more than friends? Because I keep getting it in my head that you look at me a little too fondly to just chalk it up to friendship. But every time I flirt or hold your hand or anything you just… you don’t seem into it like that. And I mean, even when I tried to kiss you — with the help of a little alcohol — it seemed like you were leaning away. But maybe I was just drunk. But after today, I mean… God! ‘Promise,’ Y/N, really? How the fuck am I supposed to take that? And the whole time we’re playing I’ve got your fucking leg up against mine distracting me.” She took a break to gulp in some air, but she was nowhere near finished, and you wouldn’t know what to say even if she was. “And no one else is willing to fucking help me! I know Shayne knows something but every time I ask he plays the It’s Not My Place card. Well what the fuck am I supposed to do with that! But it seems like you don’t want me, so I haven’t said anything because I don’t want to ruin what little of you I do have, so I just sit around feeling like I’m going into cardiac fucking arrest every time you’re near me but not being able to do anything about it!”

By the time she was finished, her shoulders were practically heaving with the effort. She looked close to tears. She was looking at you pleadingly now, terrified of what you might say.

Two equally inane realizations hit you in rapid succession. First, Shayne did know, the little shit; you were going to have words with him as soon as you were done here. Second, Courtney remembered the Almost Kiss Incident. You had assumed that she’d been so drunk she wouldn’t remember. That was part of the reason you’d leaned away; you weren’t sure if it was fueled by her actual desire to kiss you or just an alcohol-addled mistake, and you didn’t want to risk it being the latter.

Far more importantly, you realized how much time you’d both wasted on the same fear. Both of you walking on eggshells, afraid to say something because it seemed like the other didn’t feel the same way. The force of how monumentally idiotic you’d been knocked the air out of your lungs.

You debated how to go about resolving this. You knew one way or the other, you’d walk out of the room with a date scheduled. You considered just kissing her then and there; it would certainly convey all the words spiraling through your head. It would also be the romance movie thing to do. But you sort of felt like if you tried to walk you might pass out immediately. The doorknob was the only thing grounding you in reality.

“We’re both dumb as hell,” you said, finally. Not the most eloquent response to a declaration of love. She furrowed her brow. You hurried to elaborate, worried she would take it the wrong way. “I mean it’s been at least a year of both of us overanalyzing every time we so much as breathe in each other’s direction, and we’re just now confessing our mutual love. Kind of pathetic, if you think about it.”

Courtney laughed as she realized what you were saying. She made her way over to you, swearing as she almost tripped over the costume rack, and wrapped you in a massive hug. You buried your face in her neck, happy to finally have confirmation of the things you’d suspected for literal years.

You had a lot of time to make up for.

You pulled apart, though neither of you went very far. You were still in each other’s personal space, and it was taking a lot of brain power for you to speak coherent sentences when she was very much within kissing distance.

“How’s Saturday for you? Would dinner work?” you asked.

She grinned and nodded, and there was a moment where neither of you said anything, either too happy or too dumbfounded to speak.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” she said. “I know that’s not proper date etiquette, but I think we’ve wasted plenty of time.”

“Courtney, we’re far beyond first date,” you said. “If you leave this room without kissing me I’ll be so wounded, I don’t know if I’d be able to go on.”

She rolled her eyes at you but leaned in to kiss you anyway. It was perfect, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. One of her hands was on your cheek, the other on your waist. When she pulled away, she made a face, and your heart plummeted.

“What?” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite your fear that she was disappointed with something. “Not good enough for you?”

“No, not at all. It was perfect except for one thing,” she replied.

You quirked a brow.

“You taste like spicy cheese Jell-O salad.”

[limeblood-exe]

A Singular, Bloody Mattress (part 2)

So much fluff, you guys, it’s tooth-rutting. And a lil bit of Raph angst, too because why not. Ok, but it’s also mainly fluff. Enjoy!

He can’t sleep. It’s three in the morning, and Raph lies completely awake, staring at the cracks in his bedroom ceiling.

Out of all of his brothers, Raph has no problem sleeping. Mikey might have the occasional bad dream or he might stay awake playing video games or doing art, but for the most part Mikey has taken to heart Raph’s lectures about needing to get a good amount of sleep each night. “It’s important for a growing, young turtle,” he had explained. However, he wishes that his other younger brothers would have taken that advice. 

Donnie and Leo are Raph’s headaches when it comes to making sure all of his brothers are taking care of themselves. Donnie has an even worse habit of staying up too late, but it’s mostly because he gets so absorbed with a new project that time passes without his knowing. It’s common for Raph to find Donnie either passed out on his worktable in his lab, or stumbling into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. But while his younger brother does stay up late occasionally, he enjoys sleep probably the most out of any of them, so it’s easy for Raph to convince his brother to sleep (convincing, as in Raph mentions the time to Donnie, who replies with “Wow, would you look at that,” and then promptly sleeps for the next twelve hours).

And Leo just doesn’t sleep sometimes. Honestly, just even knowing the fact that Leo has insomnia was actually discovered from pure luck. Raph didn’t even know his brother was having problems with sleep until he accidentally came across him on his way to the bathroom just hanging out in the family room, binging some Jupiter Jim films. 

He tried to talk to Leo about it, but every instance he brought it up his brother had an annoying ability of dodging the topic. Finally, with Raph having to resort to the “I’m gonna tell Splinter” card, he had admitted that sometimes he has issues falling asleep, but that it wasn’t anything to worry about, and he would let them know if it got worse. So Raph had agreed to let it go with that promise in mind. That didn’t stop him from staying up a couple of nights spying on his brother just to make sure the problem didn’t, in fact, get worse. He never saw Leo leave his room those nights, so he either must have gotten through his sleep drought or knew Raph was watching him and used his portals to secretly escape his big brother’s view.

He doesn’t know which one it was, to be honest.

And he feels he should have done more, Raph comes to realize, because this whole “not being able to sleep” thing is just awful. The stinging sensation in his eyes, the restlessness of both mind and body. He can’t understand how Leo would try to hide this instead of just asking them for help. He has no idea how long Leo might have been suffering from insomnia, but one night and already Raph feels like splitting his bed in half, despairing that sleep has slipped from his clutches.

But he's no fool, he knows the cause of why he is not currently sleeping. 

It's because of the fact that his aforementioned brother is currently holed up in their infirmary.

No matter what he tries, Raph can’t stop thinking about what had happened just a couple days prior. They had come so close, too close, to losing their brother. Not just when they were cornered by their enemies; as soon as they got back home, it was a fight to keep their brother alive, restoring his lost blood with blood donations from Mikey, who argued that he wanted to do it, he wanted to feel helpful, and stitching together torn skin and shell.

He was fine, though. Damned lucky, their father had said, but he managed to pull through.

And yeah, they cried when he opened his eyes for the first time since they got back home, but that doesn’t matter. What mattered was that their team had not been reduced to three.

Leo is gonna be fine, things are heading back to normal; so how come Raph can't stop thinking about how useless he felt during the entire ordeal?

Sitting up abruptly, Raph decides that staring at the ceiling isn't gonna help him get any sleep. 

He leaves his room quietly so as to not disturb any of his brothers, who desperately need the rest just as much as he does, and departs for the kitchen. He's thirsty, so it seems like a reasonable first destination. 

He walks mindlessly, his mind swallowed by too many thoughts.

Water sounds nice, maybe that’s what I need. A glass of cool water, and I’ll head back to bed, Raph thought to himself. 

Entering the room, he turns on the light, looking for the fridge hoping to find-

This is not the kitchen. An easy discovery, what with the lack of kitchen essentials and instead he sees humming machines, a curtain, an occupied bed-

Ah, he’s in the infirmary. Without thinking, his feet had unconsciously brought him here.

He immediately slaps the light switch off, worried he woke his brother from his needed rest. He hadn’t meant to come in here; he didn't want to be in here. Not right now. He’s supposed to be trying to keep his mind off things.

He can just go back, he didn’t hear his brother wake up; didn’t hear a groan or even a peep, so there would be no harm in him just walking away.

But he might as well check that Leo is asleep as he’s already here and all; he does have a track record of hiding any of his sleep issues.

Raph pads to the side of the bed, spotting his brother cocooned in a hill of blankets. The only parts of him he clearly can see are his head and his arm that sticks out, dangling over the edge of the bed. Raph lays his hand on Leo’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his steady and constant breathing. Raph can't see them right now, but he's painfully aware of the large swath of bandages that cover his middle.

Content that his brother is indeed asleep, he grasps Leo's dangling arm (noting he has one of Donnie’s techy bracelets strapped to his wrist, most likely monitoring his vitals) in his gentle hold, and positions it back in his warm bundle. Tucking his brother in, he smiles softly before he makes his way to the kitchen to grab something to drink.

"Raph?" a soft voice mumbles before he even takes a single step, and he definitely did not give a little yell of surprise, no matter what Leo says.

"Leo! Sorry," Raph u-turns instantly and puts a hand on his brother's head, patting it gently like a parent would to a kid. "I didn’t wake you, did I?"

"You did," Leo gives a jaw-cracking yawn before he continues, talking into his pillow, Raph straining his ears to hear him, "but it’s fine. I feel like I’ve been asleep for too long anyway."

"That’s pretty normal, and you’re gonna have to get used to it. It’s going to be awhile before you’re back to normal, buddy," And the events of that night once again rush to the forefront of Raph's mind. He looks to the ground, unable to look his brother in the eye, afraid that Leo will see through his eyes and read his thoughts.

"Huh? What is it?" Leo looks more alert due to the seriousness his face had suddenly morphed to, struggling weakly in his blankets to lean up against his pillow.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Leo squints up at him with a disapproving look. Like he’s gonna believe that for a second.

“Now, why don’t I believe that? Are you lying to me, bro?”

"No-it’s just-I’m not lying to you,” Deflating under Leo’s sharp glare, Raph nervously rubs his hand together, gathering the courage to speak. 

“…Back then, I couldn't do anything. I'm supposed to be the leader, Leo, and I did nothing." His face scrunches, and his hands clenching together in a show of anger. "And I'm… I'm sorry, Leo. I’m sorry that I couldn't protect you."

Raph would expect his brother to do many things after his revelation; make a joke to lighten the mood, ignore the apology altogether, saying something along the lines of “please don’t embarrass yourself by talking any longer”, etc. He did not expect for his brother to grab his wrist suddenly and pull him close to the edge of the bed, and with one large motion, wraps his arms around Raph’s neck. If he wasn’t too shocked, he would have admonished Leo for moving around so much, since he just got mortally wounded, but the hug feels so good at the moment that all he can do, all he wants to do, is hug his brother back.

“I don’t blame you Raph, you don’t have to ever apologize for something like this,” Leo comforts. His voice is gentle and kind and so unlike Leo’s usual carefree tone that Raph lays one of his hands on the back of Leo’s head checking for a fever.

Not finding one, he buries his face in his younger brother’s shoulder, and Raph has to choke down the sudden lump in his throat to softly mutter, “But I should’ve done, you know, more. I’m the eldest, it’s my job to protect you guys. And at that moment, I failed. And it’s not just that, I couldn’t come up with a plan. My mind felt so gooey and slow and I just-because of that I put you at serious risk, Leo. If you couldn’t-if you didn’t-”

“But I did. And stop putting all the blame on yourself,” Leo adds. “If you wanna play the blame-game, then I think I gotchu beat.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. We wouldn’t have even been in that situation in the first place had I never gotten hurt. I let my guard down, Raph, and I paid the price for it. And so did all of you.”

“That’s not fair, Leo. You couldn’t have known that those paper guys would have been any more dangerous than the ones we’ve already fought before,” Raph pulls apart their hug, going into his lecturing mode. “You can’t blame yourself for everything that happened.”

“But that’s what I’m saying. It was a sucky situation, so you can’t blame yourself as our leader when things go bad, because it’s not just on you. We’re a team, and we’ll fail together as a team.”

While bleak sounding, it sparks an understanding in Raph.

We’ll fail together as a team.

He understands where Leo is coming from. He always thought that the pressure of failing would be on his shoulders alone; he’s the leader, and a good leader takes responsibility. A good leader would know better than to lead their team to their deaths. 

But a good leader would also know that you can’t win every fight. Raph doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility, he might never be able to, but he can know where he stands when it does.

He’s lost this argument, so Raph just slowly nods. He still feels like he could’ve done better, and he knows it might take awhile before he accepts what Leo had to say, but he feels relieved, the burden of feeling so alone lifted from his shoulders.

Raph, thickly says, "Thank you, Leo."

"Anytime, brother." Leo replies. As Raph rubs at his eyes, clearing away beading tears, Leo adds, "Now, pay up."

"What? What do you mean?" Raph asks, confused. Leo sticks out his quivering lips, his eyes pouting upwards. Leo raises his arms towards Raph, his hands making a grabby motion in the air.

"Carry me."

"What? No! Why would I do that?"

“Because I’m bored! I’ve been lying here for, what has it been, three days?”

“Just two, actually.”

“My point being! I need a change of scenery.”

“Uhh, but you’ve been sleeping for the past couple of days? How can the scenery bother you when you're not awake to see it. Besides, you’re still recovering.”

"Oh, come on! That's not fair, and you know it. I'm healing just fine," Leo doesn't give up and increases his efforts to be held, mimicking a petulant child demanding attention. "Please, Raphie, I don't like the infirmary."

"No."

"Pleaaaase-"

"Alright, fine!"

Leo laughs victoriously as Raph leans down to pick up his brother. Leo wraps his arms around Raph's broad neck, and his big brother puts his arms behind Leo's back and beneath his knees, making sure to do so around his blanket as well. He doesn’t want his brother getting cold, after all.

Straightening his back, Raph glares disapprovingly at Leo, who just smiles happily in return, snuggling his cheek against the dip between Raph's plastron and his neck.

"Where am I going exactly?"

"Anywhere is fine."

"Uh-huh."

Raph is convinced that Leo made a big fuss just to be held, but who is he to deny his brothers want they want. After all, it wasn’t just Raph that went through a tough ordeal. If Leo wants to be held, it's the least Raph can do.

With the choice being left to Raph, he decides that the family room is the perfect spot and makes his way there.

Leo begins to doze in his hold, snuggling close to the heat of his brother.

Why would he need a change of scenery if he was just gonna fall asleep anyway.

Raph doesn't have it in him to wake him back up, so he sits cross-legged on the floor as soon as he arrives and holds his breathing brother close.

This was not how Raph thought his night was gonna go, with Leo asleep in his lap and the night continuing to tick by. Content regardless, Raph rests his chin on top Leo's head, appreciating the living movements of his brother: his breaths, his sleepy snorts, his leg twitches, they're all proof that he's alive.

Being up so late and having the comfort of his younger sibling close, Raph feels himself starting to doze off as well, imagining the swell of sleep that would finally overcome him. Ready for the bliss of sleep to take him, the thundering of distant footsteps startles him to full alert mode. With the frantic, but familiar, steps coming closer Raph looks to see none other than Donnie rounding the doorway, whipping his head around in search of something. Spotting the two of them on the floor, Donnie rushes forward.

"Is Leo ok?!" Donnie asks.

Taken aback by the urgency in Donnie’s voice, he says, "Uhh, yeah. He’s fine.” Looking down at his dozing brother as if to confirm his own statement, he looks back to Donnie as Leo sleepily mutters into his chest. “He's sleeping right now, so if you could be quiet, Donald." Raph slightly scolds Donnie for his loud shout. 

"Wha-excuse me!" Donnie, offended by his brother's admonishment, stares incredulously at his only older brother. "I just thought, you know, that something must've happened, Raphael, with my tech informing me that one of Leo's stats changed. I had gone to check on him when, to my surprise, he is nowhere to be found."

Oh. That would explain Donnie’s panic. The tech bracelet on Leo’s wrist was meant to monitor his well-being, so of course Donnie would have had any sort of change being directly messaged to his own wrist-band, alerting him if anything were to happen. That must have included his sleep cycle, and with Leo awake long enough to have a conversation with Raph, he was awake long enough for Donnie to be alerted.

"Oh, my bad... Sorry, Donnie, I didn't know."

Donnie breathes a deep sigh, the act calming himself and he regains a more collected composure.

"It's fine, I was just worried that he did something stupid again, like trying to use the bathroom on his own when he can't even stand properly." He takes in the sight of his two brothers cuddling on the floor together, fully registering what's before him. "Um, but might I ask what you two are doing?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I think Leo was getting bored of the infirmary." He slightly shrugs his shoulders. "So, here we are."

"Bored of the infirmary? Does he not understand the whole concept of 'I nearly died and I should take it easy?'" Donnie crosses his arms, "I swear, sometimes I wonder where his head can be. He be just as bad as Mikey sometimes-"

Donnie pauses, leering suspiciously at Raph.

"Wait, what did you mean you couldn't sleep?"

"It means that I couldn't sleep, Donnie." That was before his talk with Leo, and as much as he loves his heart-to-hearts with his brothers, he doesn't feel it in him to do one more for tonight. "And besides, that was way earlier. I'm better now."

His brother just mm-hm's to himself. Donnie then joins Raph on the floor, sitting next to his side with his legs sprawled out in front of him. A moment passes as Raph waits patiently for Donnie to speak first. 

"Do you still want to talk about it? I'm up now, you might as well take advantage of having me all to yourself. Not many get the privilege of that, dear Raphael."

Raph gives a good natured eye-roll, but before he can give his own snarky response, someone beats him to the chase.

"Wow, conceited much?"

"Shut up. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" Donnie asks at the same time Raph mumbles to himself, "Are you ever asleep?"

Leo slowly morphs his face into a smirk, then replies simply with a cheery "Nope."

He continues to say, "And how can I? You guys keep waking me up. For once I have the chance to get a full night's rest, and you guys are ruining it."

His brothers have no argument to counter him with, so Leo counts that as a small victory.

“Well, speaking of sleep, I’m gonna go back to bed now that I know Leo's not gonna crack his head open on the toilet or something,” Donnie stands, stretching his arms above his head. “What are you gonna do?”

“Me and Leo are good here,” Raph says.

“You’re gonna stay like that? On the floor? Call me crazy, but that doesn't sound very comfortable, Raph.”

“Yeah, I know. But we’re already here, sooo.”

Donnie gives a thoughtful hmm, hand to his chin in a contemplating manner. After sometime, he raises a pointed finger to the ceiling, eyes bright with newfound determination.

“You know what, I actually have a brilliant idea. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

Curious as to what Donnie has planned, Raph complies with Donnie's order. He watches the descending back of his brother and wonders just what he has gotten himself into tonight. He grows impatient when minutes tick by, and even Leo starts to huff in annoyance, the waiting anticipation keeping him up.

Ten minutes later, Donnie reappears with a sleepy Mikey in tow, both loaded with pillows and blankets, which are so stacked it's nearly blocking their view.

"You didn't have to wake him up, Donnie."

Mikey just shakes his head, setting down his load by Raph’s feet.

"It's fine, Raph, no biggie. Dee told me we were gonna have a sleepover in the family room," Mikey smiles through an obnoxious yawn, laying out the blankets (some, Raph notices, are from his own room) to form a giant pile on the floor. "And I thought, ‘Oh, man! We haven’t had one in so long!’ It sounded nice, especially after everything that’s happened."

Now that Mikey mentioned it, they haven’t done this for a long time. They’ve been so busy dealing with the whole mutant outbreak that sleepovers kind of took a back-burner to their list of priorities.

Raph, with Leo in his arms, mumbling something he can't quite make out, moves to stand a distance away, making space for Donnie and Mikey as they prepare the rest of the room. 

Donnie and Mikey make quick work, busying themselves with preparing a blanket fort by using nearby objects to hold up the blankets, ranging from Splinter's recliner to using the projector as a tether for the fort's ceiling. And since this just so happens to be the genius and artist of the family, the fort they create is a mix of both their technical and artistic skills. 

The fort, while not only being huge, would put most other blanket forts to shame in just style alone.

Mikey suspends numerous low-lit strings of light on the ceiling, giving the fort a warm glow while Donnie works to construct the cushions and blankets on the floor to maximize their comfort. Throwing in a couple of stuffed animals along with some glow sticks they found in Raph's room, their blanket fort is complete.

Donnie grabs one end of a blanket, acting as a curtain for the entryway, while Mikey grabs the other and simultaneously they pull them back to reveal the inside of their new masterpiece with a bow. Raph “aah’s” at their display, entranced with the sight.  

Raph lays Leo in the middle of the fort, who sinks delightfully into the cottony bliss, exhaustion overtaking his body which has reached its limits for staying awake for so long. Mikey leaps into the fort and lands next to Leo, giving a mirthful shout as he immediately grabs one of the blankets covering his sleeping brother and bundles himself next to Leo, snuggling into his shoulder and wrapping his arms around one of his big brother’s.

“Be careful, Mikey,” Raph warns. Mikey would never intentionally hurt one of them, but Raph thinks it safe to at least warn his brother that Leo is still recovering from an injury.

“I know!"

Leo gives a little huff, turning his face towards Mikey and blowing a quick gust of air into his face. Mikey makes a face, grunting, "Ew, your breath stinks," while Leo replies with, "Some of us are trying to sleep, Miguel."

Mikey giggles into Leo's shoulder as he says, "Sorry," but he doesn't sound all that reproachful.

Raph is next to settle down, laying on Leo's other side, grabbing Donnie's wrist, who was distracted admiring his and Mikey’s handiwork, and pulling him down with him. Having lost his own snuggle buddy to Mikey, Donnie has become his next victim, squashed between Raph's massive arms. But he only gives minor complaints, so Raph doesn't feel all that bad.

The combination of soothing lights from the ceiling and the glow sticks and the cushions beneath them lull the turtles into a comfortable daze. Next to him, Raph can hear the sleeping forms of his youngest brothers, cuddled together with their limbs entangled. 

"You know, next time you have problems with sleeping, you can always come to one of us. You always help us when we can't sleep; of course, we'd want to do the same for you," Donnie gently mentions. Patting Raph on the arm, he adds for good measure, "You're our big brother, but we can still help you."

We're a team.

Surrounded by the warmth of his family, knowing that everything has finally gone back to normal, Raph smiles.

"Yeah, I know, Donnie."

Donnie hums, accepting his answer, and in a couple of minutes his own breathes become slow and even, deep in sleep.

His brothers, all of them, are right here, safe and sound. Raph still might have self-doubts as a leader and as a brother, but for now, he'll let go of his troubles and join his brothers in the blissful land of slumber.

In no time at all, Raph feels the dregs of sleep consume his mind, falling asleep with a peaceful smiling gracing his lips.

[awkward-gay-bro]

Rush Recruitment

Jack wasn’t really looking forward to spending his whole day with this Freshman, but his fraternity president, Kyle, told him getting this kid to pledge Theta was of the upmost importance. Apparently this kid’s dad is the head of some tech company and rakes in enough to make sure the Frat would be funded for decades of this kids donations alone. Of course, Kyle wasn’t the first person to come up with this idea so Jack wasn’t the only guy trying to court this kid. God, that’s what if felt like, too. 

Jack had never had to put this much effort into getting a girl to want to be with him. And why would he? At a couple inches over six feet, broad shoulders and a nice swimmers build, Jack didn’t have to do the courting at all. Jack made sure to keep his deep red hair short, almost military length, and girls went crazy for his light coating of freckles, which was barely noticeable on his tanned skin. Jack made sure to be outside as much as possible. His way of staying in shape was from spending as much time running in the sun, preferably without the constraints of a shirt. 

Jack had just finished typing up a report for his engineering class when he got the text from Kyle to come downstairs. He easily could have just walked up the stairs and grabbed him, but Kyle always liked to be the one in control. When Jack got downstairs it looked like the rest of the Frat had already made their way off to their beach day, Jack was hoping he could get this all over with as quickly as possible so he could join the gang. 

Kyle was in the living room, he’d moved all the furniture around so that he could do planks in front of the tv. Where as Jack had focus on running and sports to get his body where it was, Kyle spent all his time sculpting every muscle. Kyle was doing a brief workout now, but there was no doubt that he would be hitting the gym before he hits the beach. 

“Oh there are you, Jack,” Kyle said, a bead of sweat dripping from his sandy blonde hair. “Tyler will be here in less than an hour for the tour of the house. It is your job to show him why he’s going to join our frat. Talk about the Sigma Kappa girls and how we’ve got them hanging on every word. Dude sounds like a nerd, so talk up all the sex he’ll finally be having.”

“I’m sure he’s doing fine Kyle, kid’s got money, and money talks,” Jack retorted. Kyle only ever thought with his dick and always assumed everyone else had the same problem. 

“Yeah well show him how much better the pussy is gonna be once he is a brother.” Kyle’s phone buzzed twice. “Speak of the devil, looks like he’s here early. God, dude can’t even knock on a door, he’s gotta send a text for us to let him in. What a bitch.”

“It’s not a big deal, dude,” Jack said as he walked towards the front door. Standing there at the front door was a guy who was pretty much average in every way. Someone you definitely wouldn’t pick out of a crowd. Shaggy brown hair, light brown eyes. Jack noted how weird it was that this kid had so much money considering he was wearing a beat up shirt from some band and a slightly too big, slightly faded, red flannel. The only sign he was remotely wealthy was the smart watch around his wrist. Not one Jack was familiar with. Tyler was in decent shape but it’s obvious he’s never hit a gym before, that’d have to change if he was joining Theta. 

“Hi, you must be Tyler.”

“Yeah, and you’re Jack, right?”

“Yep, I’m going to be showing you around the Frat today and hopefully I’ll get to be your big bro soon enough,” Jack said with almost too much energy, not realizing how disingenuous it comes off. “Come on in, man! I’m super excited to show you around.”

As Tyler and Jack entered the front hallway, Kyle started walking towards them with his gym bag. “Hey, Tyler, sorry I couldn’t stay to show you around myself, but I gotta hit the gym. Don’t worry, you are in great hands here with Jack.”

“Oh that sucks, I was really looking forward to you showing me the house. I actually brought some beer to thank you,” Tyler said, pulling a couple bottles out from his backpack. 

“Ah there will be plenty of that later on,” Jack said, not wanting to drink with a freshmen if he might not be in the frat. 

“Hey, if our newest brother to be wants a drink, let’s have a drink,” said Kyle, never one to say no to some day drinking. “Plus, we’re going to do what ever it takes to show Tyler here why he wants to join, isn’t that right, Jack?”

“Right,” said Jack, giving in. 

With that Tyler cracked open three bottles handing the two with a red label to Jack and Kyle, and keeping the blue one to himself.

“I only have one of the stouts left, hope you guys like IPAs,” Tyler said quickly. And with that the three sat down for a drink. They talked for a moment about the best place to eat on campus and where the best parties were, other than Theta of course. Kyle downed his beer as fast as possible, wanting to spend as little time humoring the pledge as he could. There’s a reason he shoved this task on Jack. 

“Well guys, wish I could stay and chat longer, but the gym beckons. Don’t wanna miss all the Sigma girls doing yoga, either. Remember, Jack, whatever it takes.”

“Yep,” said Jack begrudgingly.

After Kyle left the tour seemed to go just like any other. Jacked showed him the kitchen, stocked to the brim with munchies and booze. He showed him the game room, pool table, air hockey, and beer pong. But as they started walking up the stairs to take a look at the open rooms, Jack’s head started to feel light. Every step seemed to be a little more off than the last. 

“Woah man, that beer must have been strong,” Jack chuckled, “I’ve never felt like a lightweight before.” Jack thought to himself, rich kid must be able to get some really nice shit if a simple beer was this strong. 

“Really, you kind of look like a lightweight,” Tyler said oddly, at 6′2 Jack was a good three inches on this kid, and definitely 30lbs of muscle heavier. But as they reached the top of the stairs, Jack realized they were looking eye to eye. Huh, must not of realized how tall he was, Jack thought to himself.

“Now, Kyle would be pissed at me if I didn’t talk up the girls you’ll be getting to meet if you join Theta. Our sister sorority has the hottest girls on campus,” Jack said, trying to shrug off the fuzzy feeling that beer gave him. 

“Oh I think I’ll do fine by myself,” Tyler replied, “But uh, what kind of girls?” 

“All kinds of girls, man, whatever your type is, we’ve got you covered.”

“Yeah, but what’s your type of girl?” Tyler asked. “I wanna know.”

“I don’t know man, I like all girls. Girls in general are my type.” Jack said, not really caring to have this conversation. 

“Well, do you like blondes, brunettes,”

“I really couldn’t care less about their hair color, to be honest with you, man. That’s not what I’m focused on,” Jack said. 

“Oh okay, nice, I’m glad,” Tyler said weirdly, “You like short hair or long hair, or what?”

”Long hair I guess,” Jack said, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Do you prefer a hottie or are you more looking for a cute girl?”

Jack was always trying to come off like a gentlemen, one of the good guys, so he quickly said, “I like a cute girl, nice smile, but honestly I care a lot more about her brain.” Tyler seemed to roll his eyes at that answer. Jack just smiled back at him, and continued to the next room, forgetting to even say anything about the room they were in. 

As Tyler asked more and more questions Jack’s head started to feel a little fuzzier and fuzzier and his answers got a little more candid. “So tell me about her body, you look like you work out, you like a muscled girl, too?”

“Nah, don’t get me wrong, I want a girl who’s in shape, but I like a girl to be slim. I like them to be shorter than me, too,” Jack said, looking up to Tyler to make sure he was making eye contact. 

“Are you an ass man or a breast man?” 

“I guess I can’t lie, I love a nice ass. Really, the bigger the better,” as Jack said that, Tyler’s face really started to light up. Jack’s basket ball shorts had been pretty loose this morning, and had been feeling even looser as the tour went on, but now he was noticing how tight they suddenly felt around the waist. I wonder if nylon shrinks in the wash, Jack thought to himself. As Jack backed into the next room, he backed right into a lamp, knocking it over. I’m really off my balance today, he thought. 

Tyler reached down and pulled the lamp back up, turning it on once it was upright. “This room looks nice, that’s a pretty big mirror, though,” he said, pointing at the mirror in the corner of the room. “You guys spend a lot of time looking at yourselves?”

“This is Kyle’s room, he likes to watch himself while he works out,” Jack said, his head still a little foggy. 

“I wonder what else he likes,” Tyler said, staring into Jack’s eyes. As he did Jack started to notice how off things seemed in this room. That mirror didn’t use to be that big. It used to just be a little taller than him, but now there was plenty of room between the top of his head and the top of the mirror. Jack stared at his reflection, suddenly noticing everything that was wrong with it. His ginger hair that was usually short and combed was now falling wildly down past his ears. It looked like he had spent hours prepping it to look like he’d spent no time at all. His eyes were still blue, but they were somehow bluer, but more insane was that his eyelashes looked longer then any girl’s he’s seen. His lips were fuller, and rosy, almost like he had glossed them, and they stood out against his pale freckled face. Whereas he usually looked rugged, he looked almost, cute?

As he was staring into his own eyes, wondering where his tan and his masculinity had gone, Tyler started to walk up from behind him. As he was walking towards Jack, Tyler made eye contact with Jack through the mirror, and smiled. That’s when Jack realized how much taller Tyler had grown, or, he realized, how much smaller he had become. He kept thinking of himself as 6′2′’ but there’s no way he was more than 5′6′’ if that. “What the hell, it looks like all the fat and muscle on my body just disappeared!” Jack yelled, not breaking eye contact. 

“Well that’s not completely true,” Tyler said, grabbing Jack by the waist and slowly turning him, still not breaking eye contact with his reflection. That’s when Jack saw why his basket ball shorts felt so tight. Though they were billowing at the bottom of his now thinner legs, the shorts looked like they would split down the middle if he moved too quickly. It looked like all the fat and muscle in his body had been relocated to the new shelf of an ass that was somehow defying gravity with how perky it was. 

Tyler placed a palm on each one Jack’s giant cheeks and turned him around until they were facing each other. Tyler held Jack so close he could feel Tyler’s bulge hardening against his stomach. God how the fuck could he be so small this guy’s bulge was higher than his belly button. As Tyler continued to caress Jack’s supple globes, Jack looked up, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and softly said, “How?”

“Well my dad’s tech company has been working on some pretty cutting edge stuff and I wanted to test it out. And you guys said you’d do anything to get me in your frat.”

“But how did you,”

“The drinks I gave you guys had the tech in it, which is linked to my watch,” Tyler said while pulling Jack closer, “I programmed it to make you your perfect type. So while you described your new body, my watch listened. I’m so glad you said hair color didn’t matter, I love a red head.”

Tyler then lifted Jack’s lithe frame up by his massive rear and kissed his cherry lips. Jack thought to himself that he should be fighting this, that he shouldn’t want to punch this asshole, that he should be a man not some little bitch, but all he could do was fall into the kiss and feel so safe in Tyler’s arms. He was willing to do anything to get Tyler to join the frat. 

A noise came from down stairs and they heard an unfamiliar voice, realizing someone had just come home. Tyler pulled away, Jack almost whimpering that the kiss was over, and said “You know, I had planned on doing this whole thing with Kyle, but I’m so glad that I got to spend all this time with you.”

That’s the first time Jack thought of anyone other than Tyler and himself since he realized what had happened. Holy shit, what is his meathead frat president going to do when he sees a giant assed little twink where his wingman used to be. 

“Don’t worry though, I’ve been texting Kyle from my smart watch this whole time. He seemed to have a much more specific type then you.”

As they walked down stairs, Tyler’s arm draped around Jacks tiny waste, resting on his shelf, Jack saw an image that shocked him more than his own reflection. 

While still undeniably him, Kyle looked nothing like the gym rat muscle jock that left the house earlier today. Standing even shorter than Jack and weighing even less was a cherubic faced blonde twink. His long golden locks fell in curls all around his face, his lips were so full he looked liked he was always pouting, and his eyelashes looked like they had a natural mascara as they fluttered lightly. 

It was obvious Kyle had rifled through other people’s lockers, as the outfit he was wearing was one he never would have been caught dead in before, let alone fit in. But there he was, standing in a black tanktop, his midriff showing the serious lack of definition he now had, his arms slender, everywhere seemingly hairless. 

His shorts proved what Jack already knew, that Kyle, too, was an ass man. The tiny pink booty shorts weren’t enough to hide his cheeks from sneaking out the bottom. His ass was almost as perfect as Jack’s. 

As Kyle noticed Jack and Tyler, he squealed with excitement, and started to slowly walk towards them. His hips swaying hypnotically as he did. 

“I am soooo glad to see you guys. I have like no idea what is going on, none of my clothes fit me after I showered at the gym, can you like unshrink something in the wash?” Kyle asked, glancing down at Tyler’s package as he did. 

“I thought this might happen, he told me he doesn’t like a girl that is too brainy,” Tyler whispered into Jack’s ear. Jack didn’t really care what he’d just said, he just liked the feeling of Tyler’s lips on his ear. “He also told me she has to be a great and easy lay, though, so why don’t we three head up stairs?” Tyler said, grabbing Kyle by the cheek and pulling him in to his arms to walk side by side with him and Jack. 

As they laid in bed spooning, Jack’s giant ass pressed hard against Tyler’s bulge, Jack asked, “So, are you going to join the frat, I’d love to have you as my little bro.” Tyler chuckled, “I’m pretty sure I’d be the big bro at this point, but I am definitely looking forward to being a theta. And don’t worry, I’ll share Kyle, but you are all mine.” With that he pulled Jack even closer, grinding into him, “Ready for round two?”

*****************************************************************************************

As the Theta brothers stumbled home drunk from a long day and night of drinking at the beach, they headed towards the living room and all collapsed on the couches. Kole asks his brothers who’s beer is sitting on the coffee table and find a note that reads, “So excited to join the Theta family, these beers are on me! -Tyler.” 

“Looks like that nerdy rich kid joined already,” said Nate. 

“Well, hopefully Kyle teaches him a thing or two about being a man, but if he’s giving out drinks I’m good,” said Hunter. And with that they each cracked open a beer. 

[melyaliz]

Remember me pt . 8

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Summary: Bakugou has to remind his wife why she married him after she loses all her memories of them ever meeting. 

Pairing: Bakugou x OC 

Notes: I was thinking of maybe doing some My Hero Academia requests? Idk life seems to be slowing down a little. 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Website / Pinterest / Newsletter 

DONATE or REQUEST

-0-0-0-0-0--Bakugou--0-0-0-0-0-

“So what’s up with you and metalhead?” Kirishima asked as the heroes slowly rode the bus they had been given back to the large glass building. Bakugou, who had been peacefully resting, peeked an eye open glaring at the redhead who was smiling at him.

“Who?” The blonde knew who he was talking about. But he wasn't about to let Kirishima know he knew.

“The girl with the Gojra shirt.”

“Nothing.” eyes closed, head resting back angst the headrest as if that was the end of the conversation. However, with Kirishima it never was.

“You guys talked, did you get her number?”

That comment didn’t even deserve a response. Or the weird way his stomach clenched when it was asked.“No, why would I?”

“Because you like her” Kirishima poked him in the side or tried too but Bakugou swatted it away never opening his eyes.

“I don…”

“Tell me you at least you got her number.”

“Why do you care?” that one had a bit of a bite to it. A warning to back off.

“You didn’t! Bro…” disappointment lanced in the red head’s voice. As if Bakugou had just told him he was giving up on becoming number one or something. It was just some girl’s number.

“We are only here for a few more weeks--” Bakugou started to reason but was once again cut off.

“Oh look there she is, you can ask her out now.”

Bakuoug’s eyes opened looking out the window to see her talking to a few of her coworkers. Well, he assumed they were coworkers since she regularly talked to them. One of them, a guy, leaned forward annoying close to her to tell her something that made her laugh.

Something inside him made him hot. That same feeling he would get in high school when Deku would steal the spotlight. Would do something that would make everyone think he was better than he was. He wasn’t better. And neither was this guy.

As the bus stopped letting everyone out he walked out and stepped up to the group.

“Hey Olive”

She turned her face breaking into a smile as she saw him. “Hello, Bakugou. Beautiful weather isn’t it?” He knew her overly formal way of speaking was her lack of knowledge in the Japanese language but it still bothering him a little. She was obviously not a very formal person with her coworkers.

“I’m back for the weekend, I’m taking you to dinner.” Right to the point. He had never been one for small talk.  

“I’m free Saturday,”  she didn’t even bother asking where or when

“6 here,” he nodded. With the plans made he walked off not bothering -daring- to look back. However, he was able to catch that annoying guy ask about the interaction.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing important”

“It looked important,” one of the girls said her voice hitching in that weird squeak sound that girl would get when they were telling each other secrets.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Bakugo was dealing with two issues that were making his life a living hell.

Ok maybe that was a little dramatic but… making his life hard

One was sleeping next to Olive.

Sleeping next to someone you are physically attracted to and have had an intimate relationship with before is normally fine but as the days wear on, your body starts to crave them. It’s as if no matter how much you remind your bain it's your body that you have to fight. It knows that the warm body next to it makes it feel so good. It wants those feelings again.

And it had been a while.

in fact, besides that odd mission that took longer than it should plus healing after this might be the longest they had ever gone without having sex.  

His body burned next to hers and the fact that he couldn't touch her was slowly starting to eat him alive. He kept telling himself he was stronger than this. That he could keep his sexual urges at bay but in the dark of the night where all he could do was feel the warmth of her body surrounded by her scent, it was madding.

One night she had moaned in her sleep and reached out her fingers brushing his torso. So touched starved and horney he was wide awake in seconds and so hard it was almost painful.

He was getting in a lot more late-night workouts.

Which just lead to him being more tired and grumpy. Everything seemed to irritate him now.

Which led to his second problem

Trying to get everyone to show up at the same place at the same time.

Trying to organize his old classmates was like herding cats. Not only did the conversation derail at every glimmer of an opportunity but their lives were so busy just getting that many heroes to have a few hours off was near impossible.  

It could also be partly (mostly) his fault. If he was being REALLY honest with himself. (Self refection seemed to be an ongoing theme since this whole fucking issue had happened.) Bakugou may not have really wanted them to be there. He hated the idea of everyone knowing what was going on in their marriage. Their problem was unique and kind of intimate and he hated the idea that somehow he may have failed Olive.

So he was dragging his feet.

That was until she came back from therapy with puffy red eyes unable to look at him. The moment she walked into the apartment he was instatly clued in knowing something was wrong because she didn’t even greet Dolemite who came crying up to her in excitement at her being home. He could hear her mumbling something and then a soft wet laugh.

Shit.

He was looking over the reports on her case again. Pouring over each detail as if something would pop out at him. There was still nothing -besides the American angle- that seemed to link the two of them. But he couldn’t give up, if he focused harder, kept looking something would popup.

Or that was what he was telling himself until something else demanded his attention. Something much worse walked into the living room. Olive, looking completely defeated.

“Oh shit” she mumbled, catching his gaze a look of surprise on her face, “ you're not at work?”

“No, I only went in for a few hours.” he decided now was not the time to work on her Japanese. The way she looked. It made him sick. He wanted to go right over to that therapist and pound him (or her) into the ground. How dare they make Olive cry like that.

Looking away she coughed, “I’m going to wash up” she mumbled wiping the back of her hand across her face.

“Ok” he watched her go as the door closed behind her he heard her let out a choked sob. It shot through him like a bullet. Worse than any punch he had ever taken. Worse than anything he had ever felt.

He had thought it was getting better.

Apparently not.

He knew he should just leave it. Just let her work out whatever leftover emotions she was dealing with from Therapy. She obviously wanted her privacy closing the door and not making eye contact with him. But he couldn’t help it. Getting up he walked up to the door leaning against it leaning against the door. His back to it trying to see if he could hear anything.

It was muffled but her voice was loud enough fro him to catch a few phrases.  

“I can’t do this Lilly” her voice was soft. “I just want to be happy. I just want to stop missing him.”

“Do you think you were the all sunshine and roses the first time around?” Lilly was obviously on speaker muffled by the door. “You need to stop putting those impossible standards on yourself”

“But I’m not just hurting, I’m hurting him too.”

Him, she meant Bakugou. He frowned, his heart pounding. She was crying because she was hurting him. As if he needed to be protected. It was almost laughable

“He’ll get over it” was Lilly’s soft voice. “He’s a big boy”

Olive let out another sob saying something about unfair and something else he couldn’t make out. Bakugou’s fists clenched angrily, feeling them grow hot small pops erupting in his hands. He didn’t care if it was planned or not, he was going to find that memory querk guy and beat him to a bloody pulp for making Olive feel like this.

His phone vibrated and he looked down to See Kirishima saying he just got off.

Letting out a low growl he shot off a text to the group,

Whoever can make it show up the rest of you losers can just die.

Olive came out 10 mins later. She had washed her face and she looked much cleaner and less, distressed. Finding Bakugou on the couch she smiled waving at him.

“So I was thinking maybe we go out for dinner? Do something fun?” she looked as if she hadn’t just been having a mental breakdown in the bedroom. All smiles and sunshine. That was his girl. A fighter, never settling for anything less than the best. Nothing could keep her down for long.

“Well good because we are meeting some people for dinner and drinks.”

This time her smile reached her face as she lit up. “Really who!?! Is it Kirishima?” she quickly switched to the Japanese trying to get in as much practice as she could.

“ Among a few others yes,”

Letting out a squeal she turned, “What would I wear? Is it a nice dinner?”

“Cute, not fancy.” walking past her he lead her back into thei bedroom. Her bouncing behind him like a puppy into their shared closet all smiles and giggles. Grabbing a black dress that he loved her in he handed it to along with a red leather jacket.

“Thank you Katsuki,” she said looking at the clothes. Nodding he turned to grab his own outfit. He could hear her rushing toward the bathroom to change and probably put some makeup on.

“You have 30 minutes to get ready” he called after her as the phone in his pocket blew up with texts on who was coming and when they would be showing up.

Let’s just get this over with. He thought as he quickly changed going out to the bedroom he jumped onto the bed looking over the texts waiting for Olive to finish up. 45 minutes later Olive appeared. He was about to give her shit for taking so long but when he saw her standing there he just about had a heart attack.

Dressed in that cute little black dress he had forgotten how good it looked on her. Hugging each curve giving just enough cleavage to show off but not enough to be scandalous. The little heeled booties make her legs look amazing.

Oh god.

Her makeup was done all smokey and her hair had a bit of a messy curl in it giving her a bit of a rocker vibe. It took all his will power to not pull her onto the bed and just take her right there.

He wanted to so badly

“Too much? ” she asked fidgetting with the hem of her leather jacket. One he had gotten for her a few months ago after watching her admire it in a shop window.

“ No, ” he said, getting up, “ let’s go. ”

“I’m kind of nervous” she mumbled following him out. Her English words clean and clear giving off her true emotions.

“ You said you wanted this, ” he said looking at her continuing in Japanese so that she could get as much practice in. Their friends English ranged from ok to nonexistent so she needed to be ready, “ And it’s not like they don’t know you.”  

“I just… yeah” she muttered her gaze looking away from him. He instantly regretted teasing her.

“ These are kids from UA, all proheros now. And they like you. ” he paused fighting back a smile at the memories of her meeting them all for the first time, “ Probably more than me. ”

“I doubt that ” was her response as she bit her upper lip.

“ Stop that, ” he said, shoving her slightly with his shoulder. She turned confused. “ Worrying ,” he pointed to his lip to indicate he saw what she was doing.

“ Ok .” she nodded as they walked, their hands kept brushing finally she just reached out grabbing his. He looked down at her fingers wove into this and he felt painfully aware of how it made him feel. How he wanted to just pull her closer to him. Take her away to somewhere quiet, alone. Make her remember him. Remind her body at least of how it loved him. But he didn’t just walking with her. Feeling like they were marching toward their death sentience.

His friends better behave.

To say Bakugou had two problems was putting it lightly

-GET TAGGED- 

Master List Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm

[theprodigypenguin]

Writing Commissions {open}

As most of my followers know already, my laptop very recently broke, and I haven't been able to write as frequently or in as much volume as I usually do. 

At the same time I've been going through a rather hard time, and writing is one of my main coping mechanisms, how I leech myself of toxic emotions and relax, do something productive with my anxiety and depression. 

Thanks to my broken laptop, I have not been able to cope productively or in any healthy way at all, which is not good for me, but it has taken a LOT longer than expected to save the money I need to replace my laptop.

So, I made the decision to open writing commissions. I imagine I'd get more luck if I was an artist, but alas, I am not, so here I go shooting my shot. If you're not interested, don't feel bad about ignoring this post. I'll add the information in a "read more", as it will likely be a long post.

Feel free to reblog this if you want, but you are under no obligation to do so.

~~~~~

You can call me Nico (formerly amelia vale). I've been writing regularly for about 10+ years with a small handful of local college writing courses under my belt (I actually won an award in my first creative writing course. It was a college course and I believe I was 13 or 14 at the time (my charter school allowed me to take college classes while still in highschool)). I've also won a few local essay contests in my town, which probably doesn't mean much, but that's my history.

In my time writing I've finished 11+ novels (some of which reached 50 chapters+, and some which are not posted anywhere online yeet), and over 30 one shots, drabbles, and novellas, with a handful of in-progress novels and shorter fanfictions. I've written both fanfiction and original novels of varying genres.

I am by no means an expert in my craft, and while I do dream of publishing professionally some day, I am nowhere near that goal. I'm certainly hyping myself up, but I just wanted to express the experience I have with writing in general to assure possible consumers that I at least 89% know what I'm doing 🙃 I've also already done a few writing commissions in the past, which can be found on my DeviantArt, but you can find more recent examples of my work on Wattpad and Ao3.

Fandoms I've written for: Harry Potter, The Cursed Child, Riordanverse (notably PJO, HoO, and Magnus Chase), OHSHC, Voltron: Legendary Defender, One Piece, Hetalia.

Note that my main focus currently is Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (Jeddy and Jegulus mostly) but I have some experience writing in the fandoms above, though not all of those fics are posted online, and not all of them are incredibly recent.

I'm comfortable and have experience writing in an assortment of genres and themes, including smutty or sexual themes, incredibly graphic and triggering themes including r@pe, assault, abuse, neglect, torture, self harm, suicide (please note I wrote these themes as a form of therapy, not cuz I'm creepy), fluff, whump, dystopia, post apocalyptic, werewolf, vampire, etc (please ask if you want to know if I've written in a specific genre or theme not listed).

*important: just because an author may write something, does not mean they support that theme. I've written about graphic violence, r@pe, and racism, but I do not in any way support that crap.

Most Recent Examples of my Writing:

Chances || Venom || Broken Doll (rated E, very graphic)

Examples of Smut/Sexually Themed fics:

Say My Name || Chances || Rythmn of the Night (wattpad) || Encantador de Serpientes (wattpad)

Examples of Original Work:

Pigment || What Happens in Vienna || Love at First Crepe

Fanfic Examples:

The Hyacinth Prophecy(PJO) || Road to Ruin(PJO) || Serpentine Curse(PJO/Magnus Chase) || Make Peace(VLD) || Something Just Like This(VLD) || Stupid Deep(HP) || Recovery(HP) 

So if you've gotten through all the above 👆👆👆👆 (it was actually lowkey stressful to write cuz I'm very bad at complimenting myself, A for effort) and still are curious or interested in commissioning, then below are prices, things I will and won't write, payment methods, etc:

Things I won't write: 

incest, pedophilia, graphic depictions of r@pe or any form of sexual assault, marginalization of a race or group I have no personal affiliation with* (I won't write about a black woman enduring racism because I am not a black woman, etc), underage relationships (both characters must be over 19, unless it's a strictly familial fic).

*I will happily write a black character or any other race/minority, but I do not believe I have any right to add in their racial experiences as I have not experienced them for myself, and that would be wildly insensitive of me. I've written about marginalization from a second perspective before, but I had a lot of help from a POC reader while I was writing.

Things I will write:

fluff, smut (within reason plz), whump, romance, familial, Original work, OCs, fanfiction*, pretty much everything else that isn't in the "won't" list. I'm pretty flexible.

*Disclaimer: All characters in any of the fanfiction I write belong to their respective owners, and I claim no rights to them or to their individual stories. I do not own any of the properties, I am simply producing fan works based on or inspired by them.

Prices:

$15 - for fics under 3k

$20 - for anything over 3k words

$30 - $40 - for smut (smut is extra because I don't write it a whole lot, but I CAN write it, and normally smut fics end up much longer than general fics) 

*MUST BE 17+ TO COMMISSION SMUT (if your age isn't already in your bio I have every right to decline the commission. I just don't feel comfortable writing smut for anyone under 17. I know youngins will read it anyway, but this is just a personal pet peeve of mine)

Payment Methods:

You can pay either through Ko-fi or PayPal, whichever you prefer.

Rules:

PLEASE be kind and respectful to me.

Stay in contact with me as MUCH as possible.

I prefer a lot of communication, especially during my writing process, as I want to be sure I get every detail of the fic right for you.

Full payment upfront (this may change later, but currently I would prefer it upfront)

I do not have a time limit on my writing, that kind of thing stresses me out and my writing quality suffers, which commissioners do not deserve. I can however guarantee that I WILL finish your fic.

Please do not increasingly pester or ask me if the fic is finished or how it's going, I promise I will give updates when they are necessary.

The more enthusiasm and details you give regarding the kind of fic you want, the faster I will finish, because I'll probably get just as excited as you. Basically hype me on the theme and I'll be dying to finish.

I need money because I need a new laptop but I still want this to be fun for me, and for whoever commissions me.

I have a right to refuse any commission request without explanation.

This is NOT first come first serve. I will choose the commissions I feel I can do my best on to ensure you get the best quality writing.

Due to the fact I have a fulltime job already, and I can't write that much on my phone or tablet, and the fact I'm saving up to buy a laptop, I will only be taking two commissions at a time, so as not to overload myself and so I can provide a piece of writing to the best of my abilities. When I finish those two commissions, I will reopen these again, until I've saved enough for a laptop. I figure between commissions and work, I could afford one… maybe February if I'm lucky.

After which I will likely shut down commissions (unless something super serious comes up again).

Slots:

#1:

#2:

CONTACT:

You can DM me on Tumblr or email me at amelia.vale.official@gmail.com

If you do not want to commission me, or can't commission me because you are also broke (same bro) then feel free to reblog if you want (you have no obligation to).

If you still want to support me somehow but can't afford that much, you can donate to my Ko-fi. I actually don't drink coffee, I drink tea, so I'll have to change the caption from "buy me a coffee" to something else, but yeah.

Thank you greatly to the people who read this far, even if you don't commission. I appreciate all of my followers and whoever decides to help, as well as people who can't. I know commissions are a luxury, so if you can't afford it, don't feel bad, you don't need to apologize, cuz that makes me feel bad too. It's totally okay.

And for people going through a similar crisis, hang in there. It can only be shit for so long after all.

NOTE: COMMISSIONS DO NOT INCLUDE PROMPTS THAT HAVE ALREADY BEEN SENT TO ME, so if you have sent in prompts in the past, THEY ARE NOT COMMISSIONS. I asked for writing prompts/requests, so they are no included in this.

[secretkidcolor]

A Good View from the Sidelines

A simple game of basketball with a bunch of sweaty guys in shorts shouldn't be that big of a deal. Naturally, it ends up being a bigger deal once Tyler meets someone from the other team for the first time.

Also posted to fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own under the same title~

Happy Pride Month!

“Bro, you might want to sit this one out.”

Tyler adjusted the sweatband keeping some of his hair out of his face as he heard his friend’s advice. Well, friend was a loose term. He and Geoff weren’t exactly close, but they got along fine. Geoff, who oozed coolness with his fondness for open-chested shirts and cowboy hats, had no reason to invite Tyler to hang out as often as he did. But that was Geoff’s character-defining trait. He was cool in every sense of the word. That included being nice to everyone. So when he advised Tyler to sit out, Tyler knew it probably wasn’t in a way that was meant to be disrespectful.

“No way dude,” Tyler said, “I just got warmed up. Afraid I’m gonna beat you guys?” Tyler and Geoff were at the local park with two other guys, DJ and Duncan, and were supposed to be shooting hoops together. They hadn’t started yet though, which was why Tyler was confused. Usually he’d play a couple rounds, hurt himself, and sit out to watch, but he was in perfect shape still and wanted to take advantage of that for what little time he was able to maintain it.

“Pffft, as if,” Duncan cut in, rolling his eyes. “That new guy, Alejandro, is going to be coming by with some of his buddies to play us in a little game of three on three. And no offense, but we want to win.” Unlike Geoff, Duncan was most likely intending to be disrespectful. With his bright green mohawk, various piercings, and constantly pissed off expression, Duncan scared the crap out of Tyler. Whether it was death threats (followed by an unconvincing “Kidding!”) or just senseless violence against people Duncan deemed uncool, Tyler tried to stay off his radar as much as possible. There had been a brief conflict between them when Tyler had dated Lindsay, and the jock had truly feared for his life for a moment, but that had come to pass.

“Ale…” Tyler’s voice trailed off as he tried to replicate the name. It was clearly Spanish, but Tyler wasn’t the best speaker to begin with. “Alejandro,” he managed to say finally. The name sounded vaguely familiar. “He’s new?’

“Chyeah dude,” Geoff said, dribbling the ball in place. “He just transferred here over the weekend. Bridge said that all the girls were talking about him today. Even Heather.”

“I was getting an icepack from the nurse when I heard him introducing himself to Principal Mclean,” DJ spoke up from his spot on the ground. “That man doesn’t like anybody, but this guy pushed all the right buttons. Mclean even offered to let him skip his first class of the day. He’s smooth as Mama’s gravy.”

“Which is why it’s important that we beat his ass at basketball today,” Duncan said, his eyes narrowing. “Nobody makes our chicks talk but us.” Tyler winced a little at the possessive wording Duncan used. Duncan’s girlfriend Courtney would probably throw a fit if she heard him talk about her like that, and Tyler wouldn’t have ever dared claim ownership over Lindsay.

While Tyler’s relationship with Lindsay was solid, it was certainly an anomaly to everyone at school. At first the idea of a pretty- no, beautiful. Tyler believed she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The idea of a beautiful, blonde cheerleader dating a jock was a given. It was less of a given when it was apparent that Tyler wasn’t very good at any of the many sports he participated in. He was clumsy to a fault and spent more time on the bench than actually playing, and the few times he did play he usually ended up getting hurt. This normally didn’t put a damper on his spirits though. He had won the Team Spirit award every season since freshman year. His teammates had given him flack for it at first, but Lindsay’s immense popularity and their immediate connection had helped with that. By now, most of the other school athletes admired (at least secretly) his perseverance and now that he was a junior, he saw some of his younger teammates actually looking up to him. Rival schools still gave him a hard time, but he had come to rely on his teammates to have his back when that happened.

Tyler wasn’t an overly spiritual man, but he thanked the higher powers for putting Lindsay into his life. She was the perfect girlfriend. Sweet, caring, smar- okay she wasn’t that smart. But that hardly mattered anyway, especially after she had gotten past always getting his name wrong. Their relationship had started as a quick burst of teenage passion and had actually developed into something meaningful. As they got older they began to rely on one another for more than just a physical release. Tyler considered Lindsay to be his best friend and he trusted her with everything, and that bond only seemed to strengthen when they had stopped dating (there was a bad incident with her forgetting his name in front of his parents). He trusted her with everything. Well, almost everything…

“Chill dudes,” Geoff said. “Alejandro’s bringing three friends so it’ll be four guys to a team. Tyler can sub in at some point. Is that cool?” He looked at Tyler as he asked this, and Tyler nodded.

“Yeah, it’ll give me extra time to warm up!” With that, Tyler began to do some push-ups for effect. Soon enough, four guys could be seen walking toward the court as Tyler flopped on the ground after his push-ups. He groaned as Geoff, Duncan, and DJ greeted the approaching four guys. There were a couple of voices he could recognize as the guys talked.

“I’ll be the first one sitting out,” said Justin, a guy who ran a modeling Instagram account. “This is the perfect lighting for some sporty pics. You guys just let me know if you need me, okay?’

“Pfft, whatever,” Duncan said and Tyler could practically feel his eyeroll. “Are we gonna stand around all day or actually play?”

“Lightning’s ready to play!” That was another voice that Tyler definitely recognized. Lightning was the star quarterback and the only student who referred to himself in third person almost constantly. Tyler never really cared for him as he was one of the less kind football players when it came to Tyler’s habit of injuring himself. His dad was a big name in sports broadcasting and donated generously to the football team though, and Tyler did like the new uniforms each year.

“My friend, are you in need of some assistance?” A voice flowed through Tyler’s ears like silk and he looked up to see a tan hand being offered. He grabbed it and was immediately surprised by the firm, but careful grip that pulled him to his feet. Tyler steadied himself and found himself face to face with one of the most attractive men he had ever seen. That…sounded weird, but it was true. This man was jacked, and while Tyler himself was pretty muscular he felt a little self-conscious as he looked at the guy in a totally objective way. He was wearing a dark red shirt, not too much darker than Tyler’s own, which clung to his muscles. There was something tied to a cord around his neck. A skull of some kind. His hair was long, but well-maintained. The closed-mouth smile he gave Tyler seemed to just be polite, but his eyes were…calculating. Not recognizing him, Tyler assumed that this must be Alejandro.

As Alejandro’s eyebrow raised, Tyler realized he must have been staring at him for an unusual amount of time and looked down, only to see that he was still holding his hand. He quickly withdrew his own hand and sputtered out the first thing that came to mind, “I-I uh, I like girls!”

What.

Alejandro didn’t even seem fazed by the remark. “Noted,” he said politely. “Although probably not relevant to basketball.” He chuckled and Tyler really hoped that nobody else had heard his remark. “My name’s Alejandro,” he said, confirming his name. “And you are?”

“Tyler,” the jock responded quickly. “Uh, nice to meet you…er, yeah.”

“Um, are we gonna play or what?” Duncan asked impatiently from a few feet away. He held up the basketball.

Alejandro nodded at Duncan and turned back to Tyler. “Best of luck Tyler,” he said with another closed-mouth smile.

“Uh thanks but I’m actually gonna be sitting this one out,” Tyler said, backing up off the court.

“Pity,” Alejandro replied, “but I hope you enjoy watching the game then.” Another smile. Tyler felt his face begin to heat up, but fortunately the guys were quick to start their game.

Thirty seconds of watching the game and Tyler had come to the conclusion that basketball was the world’s most unnecessarily sexual sport. Growing up, Tyler had played more sports than most, and he was just now deciding on this fact. Contact sports, while intensely physical, usually involved the wearing of gear for protection. Basketball? While it wasn’t an intentional contact sport, there were still plenty of points of contact during a single game. And with no gear, there were no barriers between skin. Nothing between smooth, sweaty, tan skin.

Oh.

Tyler had started the game trying to focus in on his friends and provide moral support from the sidelines, but that quickly stopped when he saw Alejandro on the court. Tyler had never seen someone play basketball so gracefully before. Alejandro moved with confidence and power, but he clearly possessed total control over himself and the ball when he had it. None of the other guys could even touch him as he practically glided across the court. At one point, he even seemed to turn and look right at Tyler.

His calculating eyes.

Slowly widening in alarm.

A large orange orb slowly growing bigger over his face.

Wait.

A flash of pain and Tyler’s vision temporarily darkened as the basketball collided straight into his face. His head snapped back, his neck making a soft pop as he fell onto his back. Fortunately, he had been sitting in the grass and the back of his head came into contact with untrimmed grass and not the concrete of the basketball court. Tyler may have developed a high pain tolerance, but he wasn’t invincible and concussions were no joke.

Tyler could hear laughing, and some concerned shouts, but soon that seemed to fade away as he saw Alejandro’s face appear hovering over him. “I am so incredibly sorry,” he said, and Tyler could feel a hand on the side of his face. Alejandro had such smooth skin. He slowly helped Tyler up to a sitting position, asking him the usual questions that coaches and trainers asked Tyler after he got took a hard enough blow to the head. It was all very professional sounding coming from someone who likely was the same age as Tyler, but there was something else too. Alejandro had come off as so confident and in control of everything when he had introduced himself not even fifteen minutes ago, and yet now he was flustered and worried and just reacting. And yet he still oozed confidence. And if anything, he was even more beautiful for it.

Hmm.

“It’s all good dude,” Tyler finally said after the round of questions and Alejandro was convinced he didn’t need medical attention. “I’ve taken way harder hits before.” He reached up to rap his knuckles against his skull for effect, Alejandro’s soft hiss under his breath made him reconsider. “But,” he offered, “I’ll probably stay out for the whole game to be safe.”

“Yes, I…I think that would be best,” Alejandro agreed. “It was an accident, I swear.”

“Doing us a favor honestly,” Duncan muttered. Geoff jabbed him with his elbow. “Kidding,” he added.

“Is it cool if we keep playing?” Geoff asked Tyler. “As long as you’re good.

“I’m good,” Tyler said with a slight nod. Duncan went to get the ball and the guys tried to figure out where to position themselves for the game to resume.

“Hey Alejandro,” Tyler said with a grin as Alejandro stood up to resume playing, “I knew what you were doing. I know you just needed to take out the strongest player before he could turn the game around on you guys.”

Alejandro look’s initial look of alarm quickly changed to match Tyler’s grin. “You caught me,” he said in a teasing tone. “It seems you’re too smart for me Tyler, and I was intimidated by the athletic prowess you possess. I do hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.” They shared a laugh and after a few seconds Alejandro gave him a nod before heading back to the game.

Tyler rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling where a bruise was going to form, and leaned back. If he wasn’t going to play, he was at least going to enjoy watching the world’s most unnecessarily sexual sport. Of course, there was one player he tended to focus on more, and he was pretty sure that player caught his glances multiple times without breaking his concentration on the game.

In the end, Alejandro’s team had won by a lot of points. Duncan was annoyed, DJ seemed a little embarrassed, and Geoff was chill like always. The guys still shook hands with one another, and Alejandro walked over to shake Tyler’s hand as well.

“Again, I do hope you can forgive me for your bruised face,” he said, which Tyler just waved off. “Maybe next time, when you’re able to play, your friends won’t lose quite as badly.”

Tyler looked over at his friends and then at Alejandro, meeting his amused gaze with a smirk. “Yeah,” he said, standing up, “because next time…we’re gonna win.”

“Well then I might have to hit you with the ball again,” Alejandro remarked, again with that teasing tone.

“Well then I guess we’ll have to keep playing until my face becomes so strong it bounces the ball right back at you!” Tyler declared.

“Sounds like we’ll be playing basketball together for quite a long time then,” Alejandro said, and Tyler realized that while their handshake had stopped, neither of them had let go of the other’s hand. Tyler felt his face begin to heat up.

“Guess so,” Tyler said, but his voice sounded much less confident than it had moments ago. Alejandro chuckled and released Tyler’s hand.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around Tyler,” he said before turning to leave. “Let me know if you ever want to just play one on one.” It was a normal enough offer but the way he said those last three words sent Tyler’s mind racing as he watched Alejandro walk away.

It hadn’t been a lie when he told Alejandro he liked girls. It was more of a half-truth. But maybe Alejandro had known that from the start. He would have to ask Lindsay what she thought of all this later tonight.

As Tyler said goodbye to his teammates and headed home, he used his phone to check the bruise on his face. It was big, but it would heal quickly. Just in time for another game of Tyler’s new favorite sport.

[rhcdesx]

( gregg sulkin, cismale ) hey ! have you seen KIERAN RHODES around ? HE works as a CHEF AT THE BIG BEAR BISTRO at big bear resort, but they must be off their shift by now. well, if you do see them can you let me know ? they’re 22 years old & they’ve been working here for TWO MONTHS. they tend to be +ALLURING & +DAUNTLESS, but can also be -ARROGANT & -CALLOUS. the other employees have labeled them THE LOTHARIO. thanks a lot ! 

basics:

name : kieran archer rhodes

nicknames : kier, k

age : twenty-two

birthday : 20 august (leo)

sexuality : heterosexual

born : london, england

relocated : manhattan, nyc

height : 5′9

favorite color : teal

accent : english

fluent in : french, italian, latin

hogwarts house : slytherin

when not at big bear : studies pre-law at columbia university

job : chef

hobbies : football, soccer, swimming, cooking

aesthetics : bruised kiss marks on necks, bruised knuckles, mischievous grins, & late night soaks in the hot tub.

family:

mother : freya davenport-rhodes (42)  †

father : oliver rhodes (43)

step mother : katherine rhodes ( née mccoy ) (39)

siblings : ezra rhodes (24)

step siblings : theodore mccoy (20)

half sibings : isabella rhodes (6)

about:

growing up kieran was no stranger to money. hearing the term ‘born with a silver spoon in their mouth’ referred to him better than anyone else he knew. it was all thanks to the empire his grandfather started to stay in the UK. the man had ended up falling for an english woman when he was studying abroad at columbia, he fell in love and needed something impressive to not have to the leave the woman he loved.

the hotel business was a very fortunate one. after his grandfather sent his son (kieran’s father) to america to follow his footsteps at the same university he was able to come back, sign on to be a partner and launch their empire worldwide.

even with being spoiled all his life, it was clear to him that his mother preferred his brother. ezra was the golden child, the first born son blah blah, he could do no wrong in his mother’s eyes. where as kieran found trouble so easily, needing money more often to get himself out of things rather than being rewarded.

most of the time his father was busy working and his mother would give him however much money he requested so he'd go away and not have to dealt with. though he was still required to show up to whatever hotel events, galas, or charity auctions that required strong family representation. they couldn’t been seen as less than perfect when they were all together.

though during those events he’d always find someone to sneak off with, whether it was to do drugs in the bathroom or a hot hookup. the boy liked to be entertained and often found himself easily bored, plus if it pissed off his parents it was a no brainer.

going behind the scenes further, you’d know that not only did his mother prefer his older brother, she didn’t really like his father very much either. they were only married because she got pregnant, a dumb fling sparked from hate, and he felt obligated to stand by her, plus it didn’t hurt that she wouldn’t be able to testify against him in court. they played the happy family for a while, she enjoyed using the money to her advantage.

it wasn’t long before kieran’s dad found himself a mistress, they ended up meeting in fact at a party at the dean’s house while ezra was in columbia. kieran was the one who spotted them, and the fact that she was already pregnant at the party. but perfect families had to go on. his father made sure kieran’s supply of money was constant, anything to keep the boy quiet.

his mother was in a car accident, she didn’t survive. kieran’s dad used the excuse of wanting to find out who was behind it to keep him family in new york. enough time passed and the case had turned cold, which soon led kieran to have a step mother and a half sister.

of course now that his father had the wife he always wanted, the boy was even more invisible which only made him more careless, reckless. his father would make sure that their reputation was in tact.

he finished off his junior year of hs in new york, along with his senior year before being accepted into columbia himself. sure his family has been making donations to the school for generations, but the boy is smart. the money did help clear up anything he was bound to get himself into eventually though.

facts relevant now:

he’s messed up any real relationship he’s ever had whether it was with cheating or something else. he hasn’t met anyone that’s wanted him to stay committed.

he uses sports to channel his anger, when he can’t use sex and basically uses sex for anything else.

kieran acts first and asks questions later, probably why he ends up in so much shit but he can’t help himself.

his family frequently vacationed at big bear resort, the owner being in business with his family.

he’ll try really hard to convince you he’s heartless, he’s not actually but it’s buried deep beneath his surface.

when he wasn’t causing trouble ( & still being ignored ) he picked up cooking, the channels being on an endless loop late at night and he found he was actually pretty good at it. not that he’d let anyone from home find that out.

he got really drunk one night and decided racing the porsche was a good idea and ended up crashing it into the living room. now while his family pays for repairs, kieran was forced to work at the lodge while the rest of the family vacations in paris. his father made it so the boy would finally have to own up to something, so it was either prison or work for his dad’s dear old partner. the choice was simple.

he figured something he’d actually be good at that also allowed him to hide in the back of the bistro was perfect, thus landing himself the job as the chef. 

connections:

bromance/roommate : leo takanashi. two dumbasses together under one roof, what could possibly go wrong? double trouble, always fueling each other to do stupid things. most of the time the stupid things are done together. 

best female friend : aylie monroe. possibly an ex that didn’t go sour. sees the best in him even though he’ll never see it himself. willing to smack him in the head if he needs it.

best bro : ryder monroe. he’s been around forever and always down to do stupid shit with kieran. the two of them are a dangerous stupid mix but it’s never dull and the laughs never stop. 

good friends : jason callahan. open. i know it’s surprising that an asshole like kieran has these, but by some odd reason he does.

mom friend : open. the girl who’s constantly giving him shit, lecturing him, trying to get him to see the error in his ways.

confidant : open. they get high together or get drunk and spill their guts. they both have info on each other so they know how crucial it is to keep each other’s secrets.

his soft spot : cleo ortiz. every asshole has a weakness -- she’s the one who can get to him like no one else can. a close friend. looks out for him while calling him out on his shit, though he just laughs it off, possibly romantic as well?

sexual tension :  open. the tension between the two of them is so undeniable though neither of them have given in...yet.

fwb/frequent hookups/flirtationships : ingrid kelly. callie macdermot. open. open. pretty self explanatory seeing as kieran and relationships don’t mix well. he’s more than likely to send them all the said booty call text and see which one answers the fastest.

one night stand : open. one night of passion, giving in to temptation. possible things are awkward now or they can’t get enough now.

pregnancy scare : open. with all the messing around he does, it was bound to happen.

ex girlfriend : callie macdermot. the one and only. it only lasted a month and the two mutually ended it, just the label part anyway. they both couldn’t see themselves in a relationship but they still like being around each other. 

ex hookups/flings : open. open. relationships that fizzled out, run there course, or more than likely kieran ruined by saying/doing something stupid.

childhood friends : aylie monroe. ryder monroe. they grew up together. the people who would more than likely know about his real mother and what she was like when she was alive.

playful frenemies : open. constant back and forth, flirting he can’t help. she denies him and only makes him want to play with her more. built up tension to where only a kiss can shut him up, though she’s going to act like nothing ever happened.

friendships turned enemies : roman walsh . he had a girlfriend who was kind of a bitch, very persistent and even though kieran turned the girl down she wouldn’t stop, cornering him when he was drunk and his will wasn’t as strong. long story short, kieran helped the girl cheat on his friend and they haven’t been cool since. 

unlikely friends/ current rivals : marco di angelo. these two are always butting heads, who even knows where it stems from, but they have more in common than they realize.

mutual bad influences : ivan anderson. open. pretty self explanatory. they cause double the trouble when they’re together and have a great time doing it and fueling each other’s horrible ideas.

good influence : open.  the person who keeps his head on straight. the good influence friend every mess needs to find balance.

anything else tbh, i’m open to anything and everything.

[kaibagirl007]

Since I Saw You Last

(Standalone story for Kaiba’s return in my RPverse with @dragontamer05)

Mokuba stood in Domino’s airport, gazing out of the windows as he watched the huge commercial jets taxing along the runways towards their terminals. He was aware one of those planes had arrived from San Francisco and that it carried his brother and Pegasus amongst the passengers on board. 

How long had it been since he’d last seen them in person? A year? More? A quick calculation in his head revealed that it was close to 15 months since the raid on the Kaiba mansion which had resulted in his brother being forcefully institutionalised by his command. 

His stomach somersaulted at the memory of that difficult day. It had been a heart-wrenching decision to make, but one that had paid off and helped pull his brother back from the darkness of despair. Or at least that was what Pegasus had assured him, as he’d yet to actually interact with his brother for himself. I hope he doesn’t hate me for what I did…

“Mokuba Kaiba!” 

The familiar stern voice of his brother sounded behind him, and Mokuba turned to see the duo he’d been there to greet standing just a few metres away.

“Who gave you permission to grow so tall?” A soft smile materialised on Kaiba’s face.

Happiness filled Mokuba’s heart; his brother looked so much healthier than the last time he’d seen him. The genuine smile he saw also suggested there were no ill feelings being harboured. “Welcome home, Seto.”

The two brothers came to stand opposite each other. It was a bit of a weird feeling now that the height difference between them was only a few inches instead of a couple of feet. There was also a weird sense of just how they should greet each other further. Were they too old/grown apart for hugs? Was a handshake too formal? Would a clasp on the shoulder be a perfect balance?

Kaiba was the one to make the next move as he stepped forward and pulled Mokuba into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry… for everything. I’m so, so, sorry,” he apologised before burying his head in his brother’s shoulder and began to cry.

“Me too,” Mokuba teared up as he spoke and hugged his shuddering brother tightly. Things could have turned out disastrously for them, but there was no hate or resentment for how each had treated the other during his sibling’s breakdown. 

Pegasus watched from the sidelines as he gave the brothers space for their emotional reunion. He knew that Kaiba still had a sizeable recovery ahead of him, but was well on his way to achieving it. And it was all thanks to Mokuba’s trust in the advice he had provided him with which had made such a turnaround possible. 

—

“We could renovate the place…” Mokuba suggested as he and his brother stood in the entrance hall of their mansion which had not been lived in for over a year now. “Maybe, knock down another wing if that would help?”

Kaiba silently shook his head in disagreement as he glanced around the huge open space. Even on the first day Gozaburo had brought them both here, he hadn’t felt as small and overwhelmed as he did now. His eyes came to rest on the bullet hole in the wall which he’d accidentally caused a couple of years back. “There’s too many memories.”

Pegasus had warned the younger brother that the other might not want to settle back in the mansion, so Mokuba wasn’t shocked by the reluctantly at all, especially since it wasn’t uncommon for his brother to want to destroy elements of their past in order to move forward. “So what’s the alternative? You wanna knock the whole thing down and rebuild?”

“No.” Kaiba had finally come to realise that destruction had never solved things for him in the past, and he had no reason to believe it would anytime soon either. “There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with the mansion itself, it’s just not for ‘us’ anymore… We’ll move out and find someplace else to live… That is, unless you already have,- or would prefer,- a place of your own?”

“As amazing as the Mutos have been for letting me live with them, I’ve really been looking forward to moving back in with my ‘slightly taller’ big bro.” Mokuba smiled, unable to resist making the playful tease and received an amused smirk as his reward. “So… if we’re moving on, I take it we’re selling this place?”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of donating it to the city on the grounds it is used for something Domino is in need of.” 

“Like what exactly?” 

Kaiba gave a shrug of uncertainty. “Refuge for the homeless? Hospice? Rehab centre? Psychiatric hospital?… Something that will benefit those who are vulnerable, overlooked or ignored, and in need of the most help.”

A proud smile graced Mokuba’s face. “Is this part of that big plan of yours?”

“Plan?”

Oops! Mokuba winced a little at having accidentally let the cat out of the bag. It was too late now, he owed an explanation to the confused face staring at him. “When I spoke with him last month, Pegasus let slip that you’ve been working on some kind of secret project. He wouldn’t say what it was exactly, but described it as ’an aspiring goal’ for you to ‘focus on and achieve’… Is it not connected to that?”

“No, it’s… something else.” Kaiba wasn’t at all annoyed with what had been said but was a little hesitant to share details. 

“It’s not a space elevator, is it?” Mokuba comically frowned. “Because honestly, that idea is-“

“Dumb?” 

“I was going to say ‘overly eccentric’, but if you’re okay with describing it as such, I guess ‘dumb’ works too.” Mokuba mimicked his brother’s soft laughter.

“It’s not a space elevator,” Kaiba assured with an amused grin still in place. “It’s more down-to-earth than that. And it’s not going to be kept as a big secretive project either. It’s simply in an early conception stage at the moment, but I will tell you what it is if you truly want to know.-”

“Of course I do!” the teen blurted out rather enthusiastically. He then tried to regain some composure. “I mean, ‘yes’, I’d like to know what this aspiring goal of yours is.”

Another smile at seeing the excitement sparkling in those grey eyes level with his own. His brother may have grown by an unbelievable amount, but that joyful temperament hadn’t changed at all. “I plan on building an academy that specialises in teaching its students all about Duel Monsters. There they will learn everything required to become a pro duelist.”

“That sounds so cool.” Mokuba’s grin grew even wider. Already he could see the change in his brother’s newly acquired attitude, yet his obsession with the game hadn’t wavered in the slightest; he should have known a future goal would involve it somehow. “I bet it’s going to be a huge success.”

— 

The Kaiba Dome was at full capacity as 50,000 people had gathered to see the rematch they’d all been waiting for. Seto Kaiba Vs Yugi Muto; two of Duel Monsters greatest duelists. But just who would be the victor? 

Both duelists used revamped decks which featured unseen cards and introduced a new summoning method,- synchro,-  via a newly designed and sleeker-looking duel disk. For nearly an hour they duelled, each giving it their all. Eventually though, one of them won out…

“You made them BOTH new cards?!” Mokuba exclaimed as he sat in the control room with Pegasus as they watched the duel play out.

“Of course. It would have been extremely unfair to produce the support cards for your brother’s dragons and expect Yugi-boy to go without.”

“He has a whole bunch of ‘new’ Magician Girls now, I don’t see why you had to make him ‘that’ card!” A finger was forcefully pointed towards Exodia the Legendary Defender as it tore through his brother’s Giant Germ, thus winning the duel despite the remaining life points and two powerful dragons on the field. “It’s way too OP!”

“I assure you Moku-boy, both decks are balanced. Whilst Yugi had to stall until the time was right to be able to play such a card, your brother was able to swarm the field at practically every turn.”

“Yeah, but… he still lost.”

“Only by a very thin margin.” Pegasus studied the teen’s saddened face. “You don’t need to worry. Your brother’s a changed man, he can handle this… Besides, the duel and its outcome isn’t this evening’s focal point. He has something else up his sleeve that the crowd is bound to go crazy for.”

He does? Mokuba wasn’t sure what had been planned as he continued to stare at his brother kneeling on the stage in defeat. The only thing he could remotely think of that might excite the crowd to such a level was the announcement of the duel academy. But since he knew that to still be in the very early stages, he doubted as such. Just what are you up to, Seto?

Down on centre stage, the winner made his way towards his rival. “Hey, um… you okay?” Yugi asked nervously as he now stood over the other whose bangs were obstructing his face.

“I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed,” Kaiba assured before he cracked a wide smile and looked up at the victor before him. “Good game. That’s the most fun I’ve had in years.”

“You certainly kept me on my toes.” Yugi offered his hand to help the other up. “Those support cards and that new dragon of yours are amazing!”

“I guess those Magician Girls of yours aren’t too shabby either,” Kaiba admitted as he took hold of the offered hand and rose back up onto his feet. “Your winning monster, however… let's just say, I’ll be glad to never see another Exodia card for as long as I live.”

An exchange of laughter was shared between the two friends. 

“Are you ready for the next part?” 

“Not particularly,” Yugi grimaced. Although they were currently being watched by thousands of spectators, it was only when faced with looking out amongst them that he felt uncomfortable.

“I’ll make it swift.” Once Kaiba had received a nod of approval, he reactivated the mic on his lapel. “Everybody here in the stadium tonight, let’s have a big cheer for the undefeated King of Games: Yugi Muto!”

The whole stadium whooped, clapped and cheered for the winning duelist.

“Th-th-th-thanks.” Yugi stammered as he sheepishly waved at the crowd.

Noticing the other’s growing discomfort, Kaiba gestured towards the nearest stage exit for Yugi to take whilst he worked on gaining back the crowd’s attention for the final phase. “He’s a tough opponent to beat, that’s for sure… but he can’t hold that title forever. Maybe one day I’ll succeed in claiming it for myself. Or perhaps there’s an aspiring duelist amongst you all here in the stadium who will step up to the challenge before I get that chance to do so? 

“One thing’s for certain; the only way to achieve such victory will be with a Kaiba Corp Duel Disk! You’ve marvelled at the wonders of the 2.0 this evening, and in just a month’s time, you too will be able to own the latest tech my company has to offer! 

“But that’s not all… No launch of an improved duel system would be complete without new Duel Monsters cards, some of which you have witnessed here this evening! Without further ado, here’s a look at just what you can expect in the very near future…” Kaiba cancelled his mic once more and the lights turned off to plunge the stage into darkness. Okay, this is it. I hope you’re watching wherever you are.

Looking directly up above him, Kaiba saw the 3Dimensional holographic commercial projected in the air for all to see. The new booster set’s title,- Dawning New Era,- was displayed and a happily chirping Kuriboh bounced along each word before sprouting a pair of wings and flew out towards the audience. 

In the winged fluffball’s wake, an army consisting of a brand new archetype,- Elemental Hero,- burst onto the scene. Several of the warrior type monsters fused together to create new monsters. The warriors then de-fused and re-fused with different members of their archetype to make even more fusion monsters, thereby demonstrating the diversity to be had with its many combinations.

Union monsters V-Tiger Jet and W-Wing Catapult were next on the scene. As well as their own unique fusion monster, it could also combine with the previously released XYZ Dragon Cannon to form a mighty mechanical menace that was a force to be reckoned with.

The Apple and Lemon Magician Girls materialised in a shower of sparkles and then summoned the Berry, Kiwi, Chocolate, and Dark Magician Girls to team up and vanquish VWXYZ-Dragon Catapult Cannon. They then made way for the newly added tuner and synchro monsters.

Goyo Guardian, Gravity Warrior, and Red Wyvern momentarily held the spotlight amongst the fresh batch before the incredible Azure-Eyes Silver Dragon stole centre stage. Beneath the dragon, the Master, Priestess, Protector and Sage With Eyes of Blue made their appearances…

Confused murmurs began to hum throughout the stadium as the duel monsters’ images faded from view. What would be the point of releasing monsters that specially provided support for a card which was unobtainable to them? Blue-Eyes White Dragon was Seto Kaiba’s monster and his alone. Unless…?

Lightning started to crackle and form in the darkened space. 

Kaiba reactivated his mic. “How many of you will welcome this truly majestic creature into your deck? She’s served me well, and will soon provide widespread aid. Please give it up for one of the game’s strongest cards as she’s about to make her general release debut, the Blue-Eyes White Dragon!”

Before long, his faithful dragon made her appearance and let out a fierce roar that caused immense excitement in the crowd of 50,000. Worshipped and adored, she would soon aid her power to those duelists in need of it. No longer would she be confined to the stone tablet and a sole deck, but free to roam wherever she pleased via the many decks her card would soon become a part of. 

It wasn’t the complete fulfilment of his ancestor’s prophecy, but it was a start; Kaiba’s peace and acceptance of the concept of destiny which he would no longer fight or deny. Whatever would be, would be, so who was he to worry or intervene?

[yastaghr]

Grey 7

The next chapter of Grey is up! You can find it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555439/chapters/38788544

Or below the cut!

If you would like to support what I’m doing, commision me, or donate, you can contact me here or find out more on my Ko-fi:

https://ko-fi.com/yastaghr

Stretch woke up to a world of grey. He could feel it trickling into his skull through his eye sockets and swirling around inside him. The patterns it made against the black of his mind were mesmerizing. They were also nauseating. He really needed somewhere to throw up.

Stretch blinked his eye lights and sat slowly up. The world was spinning and wobbling way more than it should have been, but he could just make out a snowy path and some trees. Great. He was so far away from a bathroom it burned. He’d have to make do with a hole behind a tree. He crawled a few feet into the forest and found an acceptable place to heave. Then he did so. He didn’t remember to bury it after. Rude.

Once that was over with, he crawled back onto the main path. He needed to find Blue. Blue would take care of him. If he could find Blue- oh. He was an idiot. He could just call Blue and ask him to come get him. He just had to…

Stretch propped himself up on the door and fiddled around in his giant cavern of a pocket. Finally he found his clunky old phone. Could he ask Blue for a new one yet? Maybe when they got home. For now, though, he needed to open it up and hold 1. There. It was ringing...and ringing...and ringing.  

“BROTHER! WHAT’S WRONG? I’M A BIT TIED DOWN AT THE MOMENT. DID YOU RUN OUT OF PARTS?”

Good old Blue. Always answers his phone within three rings. If there was nothing else constant in the world, it was Blue and his three rings. He kept saying Stretch needed to answer his phone faster. Heh. Like that was ever going to happen.

“nah, bro. i’m super dizzy and way out by the ruins door. d’ya think you can come pick me up?”

Silence beat for a few seconds. Muffled voices sounded from the other side of the phone. Was Blue out training with that fucking murderer again? That asshole had better not hurt his brother.

“I’M SORRY, BROTHER. IT’LL TAKE ME AT LEAST AN HOUR TO GET TO YOU. PROBABLY TWO. DO YOU THINK YOU CAN TELEPORT BACK TO THE HOUSE? WE’RE HEADING THERE NOW.”

Stretch scowled. Was his brother really too wrapped up in Edge to come get Stretch? They were boyfriends as well as brothers! He should be Blue’s first priority. Why was his brother so selfish?

“i think i’ve got a concussion, bro. don’t want to mess up the coordinates and end up halfway through a wall. you know how bad that turns out. we’ve seen it enough times in undyne’s animes, and then there was the time-”

“-I HAD TO CUT YOU OUT OF THE DRYWALL. I REMEMBER. I STILL HAVEN’T MANAGED TO GET THE DUST OUT OF YOUR CLOTHES.”

Stretch growled. He hated when Blue interrupted him. “what have i told you about interrupting me! i hate that! i finally get a full sentence lined up to go out my mouth and you interrupt me. now i’ve got all those words stuck on my tongue with nowhere to go. it feels so fucking weird.”

A sigh traveled through the phone connection. Blue sounded so tired. Had that bastard overworked him?

“I’M SORRY FOR INTERRUPTING YOU. IF YOU’LL JUST WAIT THERE THEN I’LL COME AND GET YOU IN AN HOUR OR TWO. CAN YOU PLAY ON YOUR PHONE UNTIL I GET THERE? YOU STILL HAVE BATTERY, RIGHT?”

Stretch scoffed. “you know i’ve got one of the new ones. they run directly off ambient magical power. they don’t need batteries.”

“OH,” Blue’s voice came through almost flat, but Stretch chalked it up to bad cell reception, “THAT’S RIGHT. I FORGOT THE NEW ONES COULD DO THAT. WELL, SINCE YOU DON’T HAVE A BATTERY PROBLEM, YOU CAN PLAY ON YOUR PHONE UNTIL I GET THERE. IF LOOKING AT THE SCREEN HURTS YOU, THEN PLAY ONE OF YOUR AUDIOBOOKS. OKAY?”

Stretch settled into a comfortable position against the door. “i can do that. see you soon, bro. bye.”

---

Blue shoved open the stuck door of Edge’s house. The hinges squeaked. Blue made a mental note to oil them later. Right now he needed to get Edge into a bed and in a healing sleep. He co-“I DON’T NEED TO LAY DOWN. I’M PERFECTLY CAPABLE-”

Blue shook his head. “WE WENT TO TRAINING. YOU HAD A BIG CRY. YOUR SOUL BOND IS DUSTING. ALL OF THESE ARE GOOD REASONS TO TAKE A BREAK. YOU KNOW I’M ABLE TO DEFEND MYSELF. IT WON’T HURT FOR YOU TO REST A BIT.”

Edge searched Blue’s face for something. Blue knew all he saw was calm and cheer...and maybe a bit of fear that Edge would be angry that Blue had interrupted him. After all, Stretch hated when Blue interrupted him, and Edge was kind of a copy of Stretch. Blue didn’t want to lose his new friend over something like that.

“ALRIGHT. I’LL TAKE A NAP.”

When Edge said that, Blue felt his mood instantly lift. Edge hadn’t said anything about the interruption! And he’d agreed to do what Blue said! That made Blue feel good inside.

“THANK YOU. I MIGHT BE GONE FOR QUITE A BIT. STRETCH SAID HE IS ALL THE WAY OUT BY THE RUINS DOOR. SO I’LL HAVE TO WALK ALL THE WAY THERE AND THEN COME ALL THE WAY BACK WITH A CONCUSSED MONSTER IN TOW. SO I’LL PROBABLY BE AT LEAST AN HOUR AND A HALF, IF NOT TWO HOURS. IS THAT OKAY?”

Edge nodded as Blue lowered him carefully down to the couch. Blue made sure to have his clothes smooth underneath him. Stretch hated having to lay on anything creased.

“THAT IS FINE. I TRUST YOU TO STAY SAFE. AND...THANK YOU.”

Blue tilted his head at the laid out monster. Edge looked exhausted, even more so than usual. He looked like he could barely stay awake. Blue started gathering his magic in preparation for the healing spell.

“FOR WHAT, EDGE?”

Edge coughed. The slightest of blushes colored his cheekbones.

“FOR TAKING CARE OF ME, EVEN THOUGH I SHOWED WEAKNESS. FOR LISTENING TO MY STORY, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS HARD. AND FOR CARING ABOUT ME...ABOUT MY BROTHER...AND ABOUT EVERYONE IN THIS UNDERGROUND. THAT KIND OF COMPASSION IS RARELY SEEN HERE. SO...THANK YOU.”

It was Blue’s turn to blush, only his blush was bigger. He was so unused to compliments of that weren’t about his skill as a fighter or his skill in bed. It felt...nice.

“I WOULD HAVE DONE THAT ANYWAY. IT’S...IT’S A PART OF MY SOUL. MY DAD IS THE SAME WAY. WE JUST HAVE THIS NEED TO HELP PEOPLE. STRETCH DOESN’T SEEM TO HAVE IT, THOUGH. HE’S VERY...SELF-ABSORBED. BUT HE CAN BE NICE! HE CAN BE A HUGE ROMANTIC AT TIMES. HE BRINGS ME FLOWERS ON MY BIRTHDAY. HE’S ALSO GOT A HUGE SENSE OF JUSTICE. IT’S JUST, SOMETIMES, HE MAKES A JUDGEMENT TOO QUICKLY AND GETS HIMSELF IN TROUBLE.”

Edge chuckled. “LIKE WITH ME? I CAN HARDLY BLAME HIM. WITH MY LV...WELL. I’M HARDLY A NICE PERSON.”

Blue argued hotly, “YOU TOOK US INTO YOUR HOME. YOU WRAPPED MY ARM. YOU’VE FED US. YOU’VE TAKEN THE TIME TO GO SCROUNGE FOR PARTS IN THE DUMP. YOU’VE LET ME TRAIN WITH YOU. YOU’VE TRUSTED ME WITH YOUR BROTHER’S CONDITION.  YOU THANKED ME FOR HELPING YOU. YOU ARE NICE.”

Edge gave Blue that small smile of someone who didn’t believe a word he was saying. Blue sighed. He was way too used to that expression.

Blue said quietly, “I GUESS IT DOESN’T REALLY MATTER. EVEN IF YOU ARE A MEAN PERSON, YOU STILL NEED TO REST. CAN YOU REST HERE FOR ME?”

The taller skeleton gave a reluctant nod. “I WILL.”

“GOOD. “I’LL BE BACK SHORTLY WITH MY BROTHER.” Blue hesitated for just a moment before he added, for the very first time, “STAY SAFE.”

“STAY SAFE,” Edge said back automatically. Then he blinked at Blue and smiled at him. It was a soft smile, there one instant, gone the next. Blue felt his soul leap with joy. Edge had smiled at him. Edge had smiled at him! Blue hadn’t seen Edge smile that big the entire time they had been there. Maybe he could help Edge after all.

Blue spun around and left almost in a skip. Finally, he had hope in the future.

---

Blue felt as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. It wasn’t. It was just the weight of Stretch. The concussed monster was just shy of being carried by Blue down the path of grey snow. Blue definitely wasn’t happy with that situation (after all, it hurt his injured shoulder badly), but he was willing to put up with it for his brother’s sake. There was one other situation he was barely putting up with.

“...and that’s when i saw the damned jar of dust. i didn’t think it was dust, of course. what kind of a psychopath keeps a jar of dust in their basement? i actually opened the damned thing and got it all over my clothes. so gross.”

Blue took advantage of the break to try and correct Stretch’s mistaken impression. “ACTUALLY, STRETCH, THAT JAR OF DUST IS-”

Stretch snarled, “i don’t really care what fucking excuse you’ve come up with this time. he’s got a damned jar of dust and it sure as hell creeps me out. i don’t understand why you keep apologizing for that fucker. ”

The older brother pouted. “STRETCH. PLEASE WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE AND TREAT OUR HOST WITH THE RESPECT ANY SENTIENT CREATURE DESERVES.”

Stretch sighed dramatically. “sure, bro. let me just fold up my anger and put it on a shelf. oh wait. i can’t do that. someone tried to fucking sever my soul and now i can’t regulate my emotions at all!”

Blue winced and nodded. He could still remember the day he’d come home early from school and found their babysitter holding a knife that was slicing through his baby brother’s soul. He’d done everything he could, back then all the way up to right now, to help his brother survive the consequences of that action. But it irked him just a little that Stretch only brought it up when he felt he was losing an argument.

“anyway,” Stretch continued, blind to his brother’s feelings yet again, “i haven’t finished telling you about my day yet. i had just found out that the jar was full of dust when…”

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 410

Attempting Dry January seemed like a great idea. Give my liver a break! Save the money I would have spent on beer! No hangovers! And then I realized that January was literally going to be a month of Rogergate and immediately regretted my decision.

We're at the point in the season where the plot is dumb af so like when watching the episode, it's not so much "is this good" as "is this less shitty than the complete crap the book was." Which is like a really low bar. But this is Outlander, so the bar is always low. So this recap is mostly me being like "this is dumb and bad but they did the bare minimum to make it slightly less shitty than it could have been." (Which, considering it's their job to adapt the books, doesn't make them look very good. Less bad does not equal good.)

So like this episode, is a hot mess at times, but when adjusted for Rogergate is better than I was expecting.

The fuck does the still have to do with the episode to merit being the title card? Jamie’s lie about his hand to Bree doesn’t seem important enough to justify it. But whatever.

Has Bree gotten a haircut? Because even if it’s not straightened, it’s wayyy shorter than it would be if it was just curly but at the same length it was when it was straight.

Also Jamie’s bangs are still a crime against humanity.

This concludes Der Fixates on Wigs.

Bree in breeks!

Jamie insisting Bree be married still bugs me. All Claire’s talk about the future and how it is for women there and he’s like well clearly she should forget all of that and marry someone because I think she should. Like wtf, bro. Y’all live in the middle of fucking nowhere. No one gives a shit if she’s married or not. Say she’s a widow if you really care that much.

Seriously this episode like can’t make up its mind if handfasting counts as marriage or not. Like I thought the whole point of handfasting was that it was the same as marriage for a year. And it hasn’t been a year yet so Bree is technically married. Yet they keep referring to her as unwed both here and then again at River Run.

Bree thinking Roger won’t want her because she’s been raped and is pregnant is so fucked up, I want to hug her. But Roger is a complete asshat so at this point, it’s also probably true. (Only partly kidding there.) Because he’s the wooorst. 

But Bree, girl, you did nothing wrong. You are not “damaged.” You are not less than because this happened to you.

“He doesn’t deserve ye.” Out of context Jamie Fraser speaking the truth.

Sorry not sorry but I still hate Roger. Yes, Jamie has done some fucked up things and was an asshole and never had to atone because lol why would the show make a character do that, but that’s easier for me to overlook because he had more screen time so I could headcanon out when he was shitty. Roger hasn’t had as much screen time in his relationship with Bree when he isn’t a dick to make me want to overlook the fact that he was a complete doucherocket. The show is asking me to accept that Bree has forgiven him and loves him and yada yada but like, they never did anything to get me invested in them more than he just has a crush on her and she sort of likes him when he wasn’t being a twat. So yeah, we’re stuck with Roger, but barring some unlikely groveling when he finally comes back, I’m really not here for him.

But for real though, fucked up opinions about marriage aside, I’m so here for supportive Da!Jamie.

I was kind of undecided about how I felt about the scene where Jamie shows Bree she couldn’t have fought off Bonnet in the book. But seeing it on scree, hard pass. Yes, Bree couldn’t believe her mother about time travel until she saw it with her own eyes when Geillis went through the stones. So like, sure, Bree would probs keep feeling guilty until she *knew* she couldn’t have fought off Bonnet. (Even though she has nothing to feel guilty about. But knowing something isn’t your fault and truly accepting that deep down are two completely different things.) But JFC, Jamie. There are less fucked up ways to show her that. Like tell her you can prove to her that she couldn’t have fought off Bonnet. Get her consent before doing your little demonstration. She’s not fucking She-Hulk, being angry isn’t going to give her super strength. She can try to fight you off without thinking you’re a complete fuckwad who is denying her trauma.

I really hope Claire didn’t go into too much of the gory detail about Wentworth, tbh. I know she thought Bree would never meet Jamie, but like, it’s still kind of weird to share all the disturbing details about something that personal without the say so of the person it happened to. 

“Ye wilna forget, but time will let you heal.” Guys I’m feeling feelings.

But I still think it was the wrong call to include Bree’s rape.

Oh look it’s Roger. Time for a tea break.

Man, I regret deciding not to drink this month.

I got this text from @sileas84 and same, girl, same:

Also it’s really not a good look that they’re making Native Americans the antagonists. Again. Yes, I know it’s in the book. Don’t @ me.

Yo but I really wanted to hear the end of the Mohawk man’s story instead of cutting over to Roger.

TELL ME MORE ABOUT WHAT FLINT CREATED!

Give me all the Claire and Bree. Petition for the rest of the show to just be Claire and Bree going on adventures. Murtagh can come too. And Fergus and Marsali can be like their HQ when they need to stock up on more adventuring supplies.

But fuck yeah Claire giving Bree abortion as an option in a completely nonjudgmental way. (Because there is nothing to judge about having an abortion. Nothing.)

Friendly reminder that donating to Planned Parenthood is always a good idea, they provide all sorts affordable health services and are the only option for a lot of folks.

Also, fuck Roger for being like violently anti-choice. Yet another reason why I really don’t like that guy.

I hate the story choices that made this scene necessary, but dammit since they’re doing it, I love this scene.

#TeamBeauchampWomen5Eva

“Can ye no be smitten with cousins in yer time?” “No, you cousin-kissing weirdo. You’re like one step away from being siblings. It’s fucking gross and I’m judging you.”

“It’s nice to have a cousin. I apparently have a lot of cousins, but I didn’t get to meet any of them even though I was at their house because the writers decided it would be cool to spend half an episode with Laoghaire instead.”

“She’d grow roots there if she could... in her wee garden.” “My father used to say the same thing. He used to joke that she would leave us someday and go and live alone in the woods. Except he wasn’t joking because he fucking knew that she would do just that. Because he knew that she ended up on Fraser’s Ridge and he didn’t tell her. Instead, he joked with me about my mother leaving me because he was all about making sure I was very aware of my mother being slightly distant. Because he was a complete piece of shit. And I understand that now. Except I don’t because even though I kicked my shitty boyfriend to the curb for being the same kind of shitty, the writers of this show have deluded themselves into thinking Fred was a good guy. So I as a character have to not put the dots together.”

“And I came here to find you too.” Awww, too bad your Da turns out to be a rage monster.

Oh, cool, another montage. Cool cool cool. And that’s like the same shot of the sow from the other episode.

Claire and Bree playing the what do you miss from the future is fucking adorable and I love it with my whole heart.

Also Claire I-love-me-some-jazz Beauchamp being like “yeah, I’m totally hip with the youths, I would love Led Zeppelin” is my literal favorite.

Ok great that they’re showing Bree still having residual PTSD from her rape (the obligatory “fuck them for including it” should be a given), but WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WHY ARE THEY SHOWING ANOTHER ATTEMPTED RAPE. YOU CAN SHOW HER HAVING A BAD DREAM WITHOUT FUCKING SHOWING ANOTHER VIOLENT SEXUAL ASSAULT. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, SHOW. YOU ARE THE LITERAL WORST.

I really can’t be as mad at Lizzie as I am at Jamie. Roger was a manhandling douche with Bree so like of course she thought what she thought. But she should have talked to Bree. Really I just hate Jamie for this whole mess. Fuck him for telling Lizzie not to tell Bree. Fuck him for making Ian “clean up” his fuck up. Fuck him for getting rid of Roger without talking with Bree first. Fuck Jamie, tbh.

“I thought Roger went...back.” Y’all I just need Ian to know the truth.

I am 100000000% here for Bree ripping these idiots a new one.

This whole plot line is such a fucking mess and I hate it with the passion of a thousand suns.

“You bedded him from lust?” Well she literally just said they were fucking handfast which, again, is basically like marriage. So she fucking had a wedding night you backwards fucking douchewad.

Also, she can fuck whoever she wants. As long as it’s what *she* wants. Fuck Jamie for being 100% ok with Fergus sleeping with prostitutes but not being able to wrap his head around Bree sleeping with someone she wants to sleep with. Claire’s told him enough about the future that him being a close-minded twat about this and like her bikini in the photos and shit just makes him look bad. Yes he’s from the past, but if he’s accepted fucking time travel and the fact that it’s not cool to beat your fucking wife, he can wrap his head around the fact that attitudes toward sex change in the future.

And yes, I know that line was him thinking she lied to him about being raped, but still. Ugh.

YAAAS, QUEEN. SLAP HIM AGAIN.

Yeah, Lizzie, you should feel bad.

And yeah for Claire for going straight to Bree instead of waffling about who to comfort.

“My father would never have said the things you said to *me.* He said them to my *mother.* But he was a good man. Because the writers can’t accept that they wrote him as an absolute prick.”

Seriously, if fucking one more person on this fucking show says that Fred is a good guy, I’m gonna vomit.

I know I linked to it in last week’s recap too, but I’m still fucking holding out for Claire to get to have this convo with Jamie at some point, but I honestly highly doubt they’ll include it.

Ok so here’s my thing with them not telling Jamie that it was Bonnet who raped Bree: It’s dumb af. Bree doesn’t want to tell Jamie because it will make Jamie’s #manpain worse. Fuck. That. Noise. His manpain doesn’t matter. Bonnet is someone who is known to them, which may or may not have played into Bonnet deciding to rape Bree. Fuck Jamie’s feelings. Especially since apparently the fucking backwoods of North Carolina are a small enough place that the Frasers keep running into people they know. There’s a chance they’ll run into Bonnet again (which they do, because he’s annoying and sticks around for two more books, although I seriously hope they kill him this season instead of dragging it out for two more seasons) and it’s better to have everyone know than have them be blindsided if they run into him again. Because you *know* that if he ever ran into them again, Bonnet would 100% be like yeah, I fucked your kid. (On that note, did Bonnet know that Bree was Roger’s girlfriend in the show? I can’t remember...) Even if Bree wasn’t comfortable enough talking to Jamie about it, it would have made sense for her to have Claire tell him.

I know in the past I’ve said that Claire should have just told Jamie anyway, and I still kind of think that, given the stakes of this specific situation. But I’m also working through my own shit about my mom where I really lost trust in her because she thought she was entitled to personal information about me and that it was her place to tell my dad because he “deserved” to know. So like, I’m very conflicted about this.

I do like that Bree nods her permission to Claire to tell Jamie. If Claire’s going to agree to keep Bree’s secret, she should keep it until Bree says it’s ok.

“I sold him to the Mohawk. Because clearly seeing slavery firsthand made zero impression on me and I think it’s totally ok to sell a man into slavery.”

I still blame Jamie for 99% of this, tbh. But also, fuck you, Ian.

Don’t @ me with that they thought he was a rapist so it’s ok. It’s not ok. That is not an excuse. If you want to beat him up first and ask questions later, fine, get a few punches in, tie him up and ask Bree if it’s the fucking guy. They’re taking away her agency by “handling” things without telling her. Which is so fucked up. 

Also fucked up? SELLING A GUY INTO SLAVERY.

Ian 1000% deserved that punch. I know he loves Jamie, but what Jamie did was fucked up. He didn’t have to sell a fucking guy into slavery. Fergus is like a son to Jamie and he stood up to Jamie when he was being a fuckwit last year. There’s precedent for fucking not going along with Jamie’s dumbass ideas.

And Lizzie 100000% deserves that “You should be.”

All these fuckers deserve all of this. Keeping this shit from the one person who should have a say in what happens to the man who raped her is such paternalistic bullshit.

“No! No. You do not get to be more angry than me.” This is maybe my favorite line of the season, tbh. I fucking LOVE it. Preach, Bree, fucking preach. Fuck your manpain, Fraser, you fucked up. You can feel bad about it, but you are not the victim here.

Y’all I fucking love Bree.

Y’all I fucking don’t give a single flying fuck about Roger.

“It’s said that they adopt folk into their tribe... In order to replace those as are killed or die of sickness.” Gee, I wonder what’s going to happen at the end of the season. They 100% changed it from Jamie selling a dude to slavery to Ian selling a dude into slavery so in the finale or whatever they can have Ian be like “this is my penance” and decide to stay with the Mohawk and be adopted. Which I guess works better than in the book where he does it even though it’s Jamie who fucked up?

But I still blame Jamie most.

“You’re insane. You’ve done enough damage.” Understatement of two centuries, Bree.

Ian: “They’re more than a week ahead of us. If they dinna stop, we’ll be lagging behind for months.”

Bree:

I hate that we’re stuck with another “who’s the daddy” story line.

“After everything those two have done, can you look me in the eye and tell me you trust their judgement?” “Ok, yeah, that’s a fair point.”

“I’ll take her.” ALWAYS TAKE A MURTAGH!!!

Who the fuck is Tom Burley. He’s been mentioned twice. I know he’s one of those mystery settlers they apparently got at some point who we’ve never seen or met, but still. If you’re gonna keep name dropping someone, we should at least meet them at some point.

Oh don’t put this on Claire, Jamie. Yeah, Bree should have had Claire tell you, but FFS, you fucking wanted to kill a guy based off the word of a fucking random maid without consulting with your kid, who is the *only* person who should have a say in this situation. Fuck you.

“You told me you hit a tree.” Yaaaaas.

“You said that. I-I just let you believe it.” Ok, I know I seem like I’m letting Claire off lightly, and I probs am. But like, keeping something from Jamie because Bree asked her to, while a dumb choice on Bree’s part and possibly Claire’s part, is different than Jamie keeping something from Claire for literally no reason. Like why the fuck didn’t Jamie tell Claire he beat the shit out of a dude.

WHY CAN’T THESE FUCKERS JUST COMMUNICATE. EVEN IF THEY EACH ONLY TALK TO CLAIRE, CLAIRE WOULD HAVE PUT IT TOGETHER AND BEEN LIKE WTFFFFFF NOOOOOO.

ROGERGATE WILL FOREVER AND ALWAYS BE THE FUCKING WORST.

“Find Stephen Bonnet. Bring him to me in secret. I’m gonna kill him.” You fucking dumbass motherfucker. Clearly trying to take your own revenge in secret worked out so fucking well the first time.

The fucking men on this show are exhausting.

Claire trying to ease Bree’s mind about maybe having to deliver the baby without her makes me feel feelings. Basically I just want all of the Claire and Bree and none of the dudebros.

BUT OMFG, BREE CAN DRAW LIKE A SPOT ON PORTRAIT OF ROGER AND FUCKING NEVER DID THAT BEFORE WHEN SHE FIRST SHOWED UP AND WAS TELLING HER FAMILY ABOUT HER BOYFIEND?! (i know that’s a typo but it seemed strangely fitting so i’m keeping it) ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! LITERALLY WHEN YOU’RE TELLING PEOPLE ABOUT THE PERSON YOU’RE SEEING “WHAT DO THEY LOOK LIKE” IS LIKE IN THE FIRST THREE QUESTIONS PEOPLE ASK REGARDLESS OF WHAT TIME PERIOD IT IS. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT SHE NEVER DESCRIBED HIM OR FUCKING DREW HIS PICTURE IF SHE’S APPARENTLY NOW AN ARTIST?!

I HATE EVERYTHING.

“It’s a good likeness. If only you drew it two fucking months ago when we were all playing the getting to know you game.”

I cannot stress enough how much I hate Rogergate.

“What do you want me to say to Roger?” “Tell him everything. Like I should have had you tell Jamie. And then this whole mess could have been avoided.”

“He came back for me. And I’ve apparently not only changed my mind about marriage but also about him being a twatwaffle. So everyone should ship us even though you haven’t been given a reason to.”

Bree wanting Roger to have all the facts so he can make a decision again makes it clear just how much more emotionally mature she is than him. She deserves so much fucking better.

Gah, I knew the Ian proposing thing was coming when they did the “he’s smitten with you” bit before, but UGH. DO NOT WANT.

“For my part in this calamity, I want ye to know, if we dinna find him... It would be my honor to take your hand in the holy sacrament of marriage--” Because it’s every girl’s dream to fucking marry their fucking cousin who SOLD THEIR BOYFRIEND/HUSBAND DEPENDING ON WHAT MOOD THE SHOW IS IN INTO SLAVERY.

Why did they decide doing this story line was a good idea. Why did they fucking include this stupid proposal. Like yes, it’s better than the book because in the book it’s Jamie telling Ian to do it. But “better than the book” doesn’t equal good.

It’s so hard to take Jamie seriously in emotional scenes when his hair looks like that.

Please next week can we have a metric fuckton of Murtagh and Bree bonding? Please?

And then the episode ended with Claire riding off with tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber.

Except it didn’t and I need more tea.

I do love the detail that one of the Mohawk has an English soldier’s coat. Most likely taken from when the Mohawk allied with the English during the French and Indian War.

Ulysses being like “sorry, in this house we have hygiene standards” when Murtz and Bree show up makes me lol, but also we’re back to dealing with slavery. Because that went so well last time.

MURCASTAAAAA

Idk if I actually ship it since she’s like so aware of him along with everyone else in the Highlands being in love with Ellen. And the whole slavery thing. But I am so here for more of the two of them together.

Ok again, though, I thought handfasting was like marriage. She straight up says that she’s handfast to the guy her parents are looking for. But in the same sentence she says she’s unmarried. MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND, SHOW.

I do like both of them being like “um, yeah, hi, we can speak for our damn selves,” though.

I hate cliffhangers.

Also Roger finding this standing stone doesn’t mean the cold open of the premiere was good or worth it, tbh. I still hate that.

Please just go through the stones so we don’t need to deal with you anymore, Roger.

Also, like, we know he’s not actually going to go back to the future. Because if he did, this whole back half of the season would be a waste. So like this cliffhanger is dumb on multiple levels.

Is it February yet? I need a drink.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Makosmonkey!

*****

Christmas Party AU – Yankee Swap

“Alec, stop worrying and start trusting me. You called me for a reason, didn’t you?” Alec rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

“Good. Thank you.” His sister was starting to sound irritated. “Dark wash jeans, one of your work button downs, and the black pullover sweater I got you for Christmas last year. You still have it, right?”

“Yes, Iz. Somewhere. I think,” Alec muttered, emptying his shirt drawers to look for the sweater he definitely hadn’t worn. He didn’t remember donating it, so there was still hope.

“Okay, found it.”

“What do you mean, ‘found it’? Ugh, you really haven’t worn it, have you? You know, I go through a lot of effort looking for things that suit you but aren’t ten miles out of your comfort zone….”

Alec stopped listening.

“Thanks Iz, I owe you one,” he said as he jabbed the END CALL button on his phone. He hated fussing over clothes, but he wanted to make absolutely sure that he made a good impression tonight. Or, at least, a better impression than what his typical wardrobe of well-worn jackets usually did. Izzy knew style, hence his last-minute panicked call for advice.

Alec raced through the shower and threw the prescribed outfit on, combing his hair before heading downstairs to the kitchen. The invitation clipped to the fridge said the party started at 6pm, and it was already 5:57. He stared at the gift he’d picked up that afternoon on his way home, still wrapped in its plastic bag from the store. “Fuck. Wrapping.”

He ran back upstairs to his guest room, shoving the closet doors open and praying that there’d be something he could use. There. A roll of plain green wrapping paper, most likely left over from his sister from when she had stayed with him over the summer. Perhaps he owed Izzy more than one favor at this point.

Back downstairs, Alec hastily wrapped the gift and grabbed the bottle of Pinot he brought for Luke every year, nearly stumbling on his way out the door. Calm down, he told himself. It’s just a party. He picked his way down the sidewalk and around a stray snowbank or two, thankful that at least he didn’t have to worry about parking; the street was already packed with cars.

Luke’s house was, by far, the most decorated one in the neighborhood. Wreaths topped with red ribbons hung on every window and candles shone from every sill. He must have used something like a mile of string lights because every single edge of the house dripped in softly glowing icicles. The giant tree in the foyer was visible from where Alec stood on the sidewalk, glittering with silver and gold ornaments.

But never mind the decorations – Alec had to remember that tonight, he was on a mission. It was time. It was past time, really. He’d just have to buck up and be brave, and do the thing he came here to do.

Right. Here goes nothing.

He rang the doorbell and was immediately greeted by Luke, fashionably dressed in no less than Saint Nick’s signature red velvet suit, arms held wide open.

“Bro-ho-ho! Alec!”

Alec snorted and shook his head. “Really, Luke?”

“Yes, really. Tonight, I’m Santa. Don’t diss the beard man, and come on in.” Alec handed Luke the bottle of wine and followed him through the kitchen and into the den, where a second tree was set up, cluttered with presents underneath. Alec looked around the room, taking in a few familiar faces that were already paired off in deep conversations.

“Ah, almost forgot. Here,” Luke shoved a stocking toward Alec and gestured inside. Alec drew out a folded post-it note with the number seven on it and shoved it in his pocket.

“Put your gift under the tree and make yourself comfortable, Alec. Mix and mingle, like Ol’ Kris Kringle,” Luke chuckled, already backing toward the kitchen to greet his next guest. “Oh, and Maia insisted on taking over Nog duty this year, so… well, just be careful not to stand next to any open flames, if you get my drift,” Luke said over his shoulder.

Alec smiled. “Gotcha.” He turned toward the makeshift bar set up at the back of the room and raised his hand in hello to Maia.

Internally, though, he was groaning. This was the part of the party he always hated. Not this party specifically, but really, any party. Small talk was much more Izzy’s thing, even their little brother Max was better at it. For god’s sake, he was a thirty-year-old man and he couldn’t even manage to attend a party by himself without feeling awkward and out of place. He busied himself by heading to the kitchen to make a plate of appetizers; at least he’d look normal holding some food.

Before settling down in an empty chair, Alec took a loop through the crowd in each room, pretending to look for someone in particular. Well, perhaps it wasn’t pretend. That didn’t mean he actually intended to talk to the person he was looking for. Not right away, at least. He’d have to come up with a something to say first.

Alec looked down at his plate, trying to identify what was in the pile that had been labeled “Mexican Dip” that he’d generously scooped onto his plate. There wasn’t much “Mexican” about it, and the cheese had re-solidified. Maybe it was best to just leave it be for now.

“Ah, alcohol; helping us survive Christmas one sip at a time. It’s Alexander, right?” Alec nearly choked on the bacon wrapped scallop he’d been chewing on. He turned toward the voice and found he was being handed a festively decorated Solo cup filled to the brim with eggnog. Magnus.

Magnus, who was loud, attractive, and always perfectly— though often unexpectedly— dressed. Alec raised his eyes to meet Magnus’, immediately imagining himself melting into a puddle just like Frosty the Snowman threatened to. Magnus was generally flirtatious with everyone, but Alec hadn’t been able to help but watch him from a safe distance every year. Alec had come here tonight with the express intention of at the very least talking with him, and if he was feeling brave enough, hopefully flirting back.

Alec had attended Luke’s annual Christmas party almost every year he’d lived on the street, but this was the first time he’d be attending as an officially out and proud gay man. Well, out. Proud was still a work in process, no thanks to the ongoing icy relationship with his parents. Logically he knew he had nothing to be ashamed about and that his sexuality was nobody’s business but his own, but his mother’s sharp tongue and father’s disinterested tone still tended to cut at him unexpectedly, even a year after coming out to them. That announcement, or actually the resulting blow up, is what had kept him from missing the party—his annual opportunity to oogle Magnus Bane—last year.

Alec stared at the drink in his hand, trying and failing miserably to come up with something to say that wasn’t ‘finally’ or ‘thank god.’

“You looked like you could use a drink; did I read that wrong?” Magnus asked him.

Alec felt completely too caught off guard to properly respond. He thought he’d have more time to plan this interaction, why is his brain suddenly blank?!

Alec shuffled his feet and was saved from further embarrassment by Luke shouting from the kitchen.

“Come one, come all! Get your asses to my den so we can get this party started!”

Alec snorted. It sounded like Luke had been sampling some of Maya’s eggnog.

Magnus touched Alec’s elbow lightly. “Well, shall we?”

Still terribly confused, Alec followed Magnus. Why on earth was Magnus talking to him? Of all the people at this party, Alec had to look the least sociable. There were far better conversationalists; even Dot, his 80-year-old neighbor, could keep a person interested long enough to tell a story or two.

They made their way through the crowd and took a seat on the stairs in the corner of the room.

“All right, thank you everyone for coming. It’s always nice to end the year with all of your faces and all of this booze.”

“Hurrah!”

“Anyway. Thanks for all the presents, you can all go home now.”

“Fo’ real this time! To those of you who haven’t had the extreme pleasure of participating in our little holiday extravaganza exchange, here are the house rules: each of you has brought a wrapped gift and put it under the tree. When you arrived, you were given a folded piece of paper with a number on it. Whichever of you lucky sonsabitches has the number 1 will pull a gift from under the tree and unwrap it for all to see. Because there were some, uh, shall we say disagreements, last year, I will allow visual inspection of the gifts. You may pick them up and gently shake them, just don’t unwrap them until you’ve made your choice. And, Mr. Bane… apparently you need the reminder that there will be NO CHOOSING OF THE GIFT YOU BROUGHT.”

“But I bring fabulous gifts!” Magnus exclaimed, clearly disappointed that he’d been caught out. Alec stifled a chuckle.

“Anyway, the next guest will choose a gift from under the tree and model it, and then that sucker gets to choose to either keep that gift or choose from one that has already been opened. I am placing NO LIMITS on the number of times a particular gift can be stolen, or the number of times a poor soul can be stolen from.”

“Ah, I see we’ve graduated to the ‘Dirty’ version of the game,” Magnus murmured. Alec turned to look at him and found Magnus smirking, eyes filled with glee. Alec raised an eyebrow in question, but Magnus just responded with a shake of his head.

“We will continue in this manner until all those presents are unwrapped and we swing back around to number 1 again – who has that, by the way?”

*Ragnor raises his hand*

“Ok, Ragnor… at the very end, you get to choose from all the gifts, including the one you unwrap”

“Damn it, that means I’m stuck here.”

“You were stuck here anyway, my friend. No one leaves until we’re done…. With both the presents and the booze!”

Alec looked down at the folded paper in his hand. Hastily scribbled on it was the number seven. So much for lucky number seven… he’d only have a handful of gifts to choose from unless someone stole his gift near the end of the game. Magnus peered over his shoulder to steal a glance at Alec’s paper with a smile and a murmured “Perfect.”

Perfect? Maybe Magnus had been looking at something else. But Alec’s attention was quickly drawn to Ragnor grumpily unwrapping the gift in the pile that had been closest to him. He finally managed to get the box open after struggling with a particularly stubborn tape job and a soft-looking throw blanket slid out of the package, piling at Ragnor’s feet.

“Lovely,” Ragnor muttered with great distaste. He shoved the blanket into the corner of the chair he occupied and crossed his arms. “Next victim!”

“Ah ah ah, Ragnor, you have to model it!” chastised Luke. Ragnor looked at him in horror, but then bucked up and shook the blanket open to drape it around him. Alec tried to stifle a giggle, but seeing the grouchiest man he knew draped in a Snuggie was wonderfully entertaining.

“However this night ends, this moment right here has already surpassed my expectations,” Magnus said beside him, shamelessly clicking off a half a dozen photos of Ragnor pouting in his chair.

Alec nervously stood to choose his gift from the tree. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to choose the gift and open it so publicly. Something about being on display like this always made him uncomfortable. He reached for a smaller square box wrapped in purple and silver paper – at least it was practically guaranteed not to be a Snuggie. He turned around to unwrap the gift in view of the rest of the party and was relieved when the paper peeled aside to reveal a Bluetooth speaker. Huh. Something he’d actually enjoy taking home for once. “A Bluetooth speaker!” he called out to the rest of the crowd, holding it up for those who might not be able to see it.

“Nice!”

“Excellent choice, Alexander,” Magnus praised him when he returned to his seat.

“Thanks. Although I guess I should really be thanking whoever brought it. This is a pretty cool gift.”

“You’re very welcome, then.” Alec looked up, immediately caught by Magnus’ happy grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Alec.

“Back there, how did you—know my name?” came tumbling out of Alec’s mouth. Great. Perfect. Smooth, Alec.

“Well, I admit that it did take some detective work on my part. I had to ask Luke weeks ago if the brooding tall tree of a man would be attending this year, as I was remarkably disappointed by his absence last year,” Magnus said with a sly smile. “And there you were, brooding away in your corner.”

Alec ducked his head to try to hide the smile rising to his lips. “Well, you weren’t here yet. I had to wait somewhere.”

That seemed to spark something in Magnus’ eyes, at least.

“So it would seem. How have we gone this long without having a proper introduction? I’m Magnus,” he said, extending his hand. Alec took it in his own, immediately relishing the warmth radiating from Magnus’s palm.

“I know,” Alec said. “And I’m Alec, obviously.” Duh.

“Do you prefer Alec, or may I call you Alexander?”

“Uh…” Max’s sarcastic voice echoed in his head. You can call me anything you want, as long as you call me. “People usually call me Alec, but…” Alec trailed off, shrugging.

“Alexander it is, then.” Magnus smiled. “Something tells me that if I ask you to tell me about yourself, I won’t get the kind of detail I’m looking for. What if I were to ask you about this tattoo, instead?” As he posed the question, Magnus trailed a finger along Alec’s neck down his throat, causing goosebumps to chase after it.

“Ah, um. That’s… I guess you could call it a symbol of protection? It means ‘deflect.’”

“Like a shield?” Magnus asked, an eyebrow raised in interest.

“Exactly. I’ve had a lot of … well, my relationship with my parents has never been great. So when I got this one, it was like this reminder to myself to block out the bad things they said. Plus,” Alec found himself continuing, “having it so large and visible it may have really pissed them off.” He smiled. He can’t say he enjoyed that fight exactly, but he did feel freer afterward.

“I don’t doubt it,” Magnus chuckled. “Is that the only one you have?”

“No, I have quite a few, actually. But the rest aren’t so, well, visible,” Alec mumbled, feeling a blush rise. For a moment there, he’d been ready to take off his sweater and his shirt to show Magnus the tattoos on his torso.

“I see,” Magnus’ eyes glowed. “Or rather, I’d like to; at some point in the future. Perhaps this isn’t the time and place.”

Alec flushed and looked down at his hands. His attention is grabbed by the crowd around him laughing in unison; somehow, the game has moved on while he and Magnus been wrapped in their own little bubble. Someone had unwrapped a towel, half of it labeled “FACE” and the other half “BUTT”.

“Now that’s certainly more of a White Elephant gift than one for a Yankee Swap… can you say ‘regift’? Oh, that poor soul is stuck with that one, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t realize there was a difference between the two games.”

“Ah, then you must let me enlighten you. Popular theory is that the term ‘white elephant’ came from a story about the King of Siam, who was considered to be quite the evil genius. He had a brilliant way of exacting revenge on any courtier who dared displease him – he would present them with the precious gift of a rare albino elephant. At first, the unlucky courtier would be pleased as punch, thinking that they had impressed the King. But little did they know that caring for one of those elephants was a huge and costly pain in the backside and would likely lead them to financial ruin. As such, it was called a ‘fatal gift.’ I believe the story dates back to at least the 1850’s, but as far as I’m aware, no one has been able to verify that such a king existed. Nonetheless, the term still persists in popular culture.”

“Well I’m not sure that towel will lead anyone to financial ruin, but I guess I can’t say it’s a gift I would have liked to unwrap.”

Finally, Magnus springs to his feet when Luke calls for number twenty. Magnus tiptoes through the remaining gifts and makes his selection. He flings the tissues paper out of the bag until he reaches his prize: a poster-sized world map covered in the same scratch-off material lottery tickets are made of. Before Alec has a chance to realize what’s going on, Magnus has plucked the Bluetooth speaker out of Alec’s hands and replaced it with the map.

“Next number!” Magnus calls out as he reclaims his seat next to Alec, ever so closer than they had been before. Alec smirks. “I guess Luke didn’t forbid stealing your own gift, huh?”

“No, he did not make that distinction, did he?” Magnus asks around a wink.

The game continued around them and Alec is pulled back into his bubble with Magnus. They discover a shared love of tv shows (Magnus considers himself a bit of a pop culture whore) like the Runaways and the 100, and discuss how interests of younger generations typically have a bad reputation with older generations, even though the same values and lessons can be found in them. That topic carries them until Luke asks for number twenty-nine. Magnus, caught mid-sentence, raises a finger to Alec in a request to hold that thought and rises to select another package from the tree. He returns with another gift to plop in Alec’s lap and takes back the world map.

Alec is terribly confused.

“What—” is all he gets out before Magnus interrupts him with a wry smile and a finger to his own lips.

“Shhh, Alexander. You’ll see.”

Magnus takes the opportunity to ask Alec more about his tattoos, and Alec eventually stammers that each of the tattoos he’s chosen have both a deeper personal meaning and a purposeful placement on his body. That, in turn, leads to a rather lively discussion about deriving strength from elements of pop culture like music, shows, and movies, and how fictional characters can be inspirational figures in real life. Before they get too far down that path, they’re interrupted again.

It turns out, that in addition to numbers twenty and twenty nine, Magnus also has numbers thirty three and thirty seven. He steals Alec’s gift every single round. Finally, once he has seemingly completed his turns, he takes a moment to whisper in Alec’s ear.

“Luke never puts a limit on the number of gifts that can be brought to the exchange. If you bring multiple gifts, you get to take multiple gifts home. I see it as a way to increase my odds of taking home something I want. And before you ask, I had this plan to steal your gift every turn before I even walked in the door tonight. Speaking to you before the game and witnessing that adorable blush was just the cherry on top.”

Alec doesn’t even know where to begin.

“May I be presumptuous, Alexander?”

“If you must. I can probably handle it. Maybe.”

“Would you like to find some place a little less rowdy and continue our conversation over a nightcap?”

Alec takes a deep breath. “I know just the place, actually. And it has the benefit of being close by, since I don’t think any of these guys are in shape to move their cars.”

Alec helps Magnus with his coat and gestures down the sidewalk. Magnus takes his hand, and the words “cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we” echo in his head.

They continue their discussion of how tattoos have helped Alec unlock his truth (with each one he gets, he feels a little more sure about who he is and what he stands for, what he wants to fight for). Magnus responds that he feels that Alec has unlocked something in him as well.

Alec tugs on Magnus’ hand to pull him to a stop in front of his house. “Well, we’re here,” he stammers. Magnus chuckles, clearly surprised but pleased that Alec has led him here. Fuck, that’s probably the smoothest he’s ever been, and he has no proof for Izzy that he came up with it himself.

“May I ask another question, Alexander?”

“You can ask me anything you want, Magnus.”

“Do you believe in the theory of soulmates?”

“I believe it’s possible.”

And reader, he kissed the living daylights out of that man.