#bully each other senseless while still loving each other

[hoperays-song]

Never In Our Lives

Rosita, meeting the gang for the first time: Do you guys ever have a civilized conversation where you don’t insult each other every time you get a chance?

Stan: Nope.

Marcus: Never in our lives.

Barry: I don’t think that’s even physically possible.

[tonguetiedraven]

If you are still taking requests: rin calming a crying Ryuuji. I need some hurt/comfort for my boy!!!!

I am still taking requests 😊 I changed my settings to stop receiving anons for reasons I’ll explain at the end of the fic so as not to bother people who don’t want to read that (b˙◁˙ )b

On this request, something I actually really like about Ryuuji is that if you tally up the percentage of tears of each of the characters (how many times they openly cry against how many times they appear) Ryuuji is one of the ones that cries the absolute most. He’s never afraid to let his tears fall if he’s passionate about something.  This is mostly me exploring that and having Ryuuji realize that a few people are safe to cry around.

Fic under the cut :D (or ;-; I guess xD )

-- -- - (T∩T) - -- --

Ryuuji, despite his gruff and intimidating appearance, found himself often moved to tears. Whether it was from frustration and hurt (probably the most common sort) or heartbreak, or even pure unbridled joy, Ryuuji’s eyes filled up with tears and spilled over fairly frequently.

He’d been ashamed of that when he was little. He had grown up around a lot of men, and while most of them had been incredible and people he could safely model himself after, a few had been harsher and with a different (an almost archaic) sense of what was and was not acceptable for men. Crying had been one of the things at the top of that list. Ryuuji, young and impassioned and pleading for the men he had loved and admired to stay had not realized that it wasn’t only his father they were declaring unfit as a leader. They were seeing the tears splashing down his cheeks and deciding he was also unworthy.

Ryuuji learned about those judgements when he was older, and he learned about how unacceptable crying was for ‘men’ when he was in school. It was yet another thing for the others to tease and belittle him about, and yet another thing that saw him swinging his fists.

He could cry and still kick their asses while he did.

Regardless of his ability to kick other peoples’ asses and his ability to prove himself strong and capable, he learned when he was young that his tears weren’t safe around most people.

It was just another thing that made him defiant. Just another thing he refused to hide and another thing that made him swear to take down all the bullies.

-- -- -(īī ^ īī)- -- --

Ryuuji, to his honest embarrassment, cried within hours of really meeting Rin. He was pretty sure Rin hadn’t noticed though, so he never really mentioned it.

Whether Rin remembered it or not, Rin had plenty of chances to see the waterworks start on Ryuuji though, so it didn’t really remember if he’d noticed them with the drama that had been the reaper. (Mostly drama of Ryuuji’s own making, but Izumo had been an utter dick during that entire semester.)

Crying while you were being choked out was more forgivable than crying while confronting a reaper, and Ryuuji hadn’t had any tears when he told Rin to run in the Impure King’s castle, but he had a few blurry eyed exhaustion tears when Rin refused to run and stood tall and defiantly, pulling his sword out and igniting in a dazzling display that should just look ridiculous with all the candy floss fluff of death rot the castle was made of surrounding them.

There had been tears during the mysteries (of frustration and embarrassment) tears during the shock of Shima spying (pain and anger) and now…

Ryuuji had cried in front of Lightning without meaning too and he had been so angry and upset that Lightning didn’t get it. Upset that Misumi had died and that it had been another death linked to too many deaths. A senseless way for a man who wanted to repent to die. He hadn’t been given the chance to make any sort of atonement or peace. He’d been trapped in some terrible lie and murdered the moment he tried to make it right.

He had drowned in his guilt over it and then Lightning had led him down into Section Thirteen, and now Ryuuji was sitting at a bench in a half frozen park, trying to make sense of the massive list of names and numbers and how shockingly many people had been tortured and murdered and the ones who weren’t outright killed were left frozen in the bowels of this academy as if that was a kindness.

It was too many names to properly comprehend, but the bodies and the faces and the remains he had seen weren’t. They had looked so human and so mutilated, and he didn’t notice the first of the tears spilling down his cheeks as he typed away on his laptop, trying to organize the dead so that they could have some kind of justice served. He didn’t notice himself wiping them away to be able to see his screen at all, and didn’t notice the loud sniff he gave as he saved the spreadsheet that was already too many lines long and opened a new tab for the second batch of clones.

He did notice the bench shifting as a body sat next to him. He hastily hit two keys to lock the screen so no one would see and looked over to try and see who had joined him only for a packet of tissues to be shoved at him by a familiar hand.

“I don’t know what gotcha upset, but if it’s Shima, I’ll burn his clothes off again for ya.”

Ryuuji internally cringed at once again crying in front of Rin, and crying in front of Rin when Rin had been the one who knew and loved Misumi and still didn’t know what had happened.

“It’s not Shima,” he mumbled, not entirely intelligibly and took a tissue. “But you’re always free to burn his clothes off. He usually deserves it.”

It was a lame attempt at a misdirect, but Ryuuji wasn’t exactly on his A game. He didn’t feel like he’d been on his A game since sometime in June. They were well into December now and Ryuuji had all but given up on finding his A game again.

“Not Shima…” Rin hummed under his breath and tapped his finger against his chin. “Is it Lightning? Did he make another mess?”

Ryuuji wiped at his face, finding the tissue soft and gentle against his skin and shook his head. “It’s nothing, man. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Rin’s face immediately scrunched up in frustration. “Not you too.”

Ryuuji’s hand stilled on his cheek and he sniffed, blinking back more of the damned tears as he tried to see Rin through them. It didn’t work particularly well, but even through the blur, he could see the frustration on every inch of Rin’s face and posture.

Ryuuji didn’t do great holding back tears, and Rin didn’t do great at hiding any emotion.

“Me too?” Ryuuji asked with a hiccup.

“Yeah! You too. You’re upset and I wanna help. Nobody is letting me help.”

Ryuuji wanted to tell him. That was the problem. He wanted to seek comfort. He selfishly wanted Rin’s comfort and he wasn’t the one that had been so hurt. He just knew that people had, and that they had been tortured and treated as less than human. That they had been treated like lab rats and they had been babies and children and confused and frightened and left frozen in time, stuck forever in their vats in an attempt to let would-be-gods live forever so they didn’t destroy the world in a toddler-like rage.

He exhaled and passed the packet of tissues back to Rin. “This helped.”

There was a beat of silence as Rin didn’t take the tissues back. Rin’s tail was still flicking, and he was still turned towards Ryuuji, and there were still tears dripping down Ryuuji’s cheeks. Too many for a tissue.

“I don’t know who else isn’t letting you help, but I’ll listen—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Rin interrupted, scowling and shoving Ryuuji’s shoulder enough to send him rocking and having to brace himself. He liked that Rin didn’t check his strength too much around him.

“Don’t you dare try and turn this on me. I am the one comforting.”

Despite everything, Ryuuji’s lips quirked up the slightest bit. “Yeah?”

Rin nodded importantly, pulling on a goofy air. “Yes. Now tell me what you want. More tissues? To talk about it? To go punch something? I can even make you something to eat.”

His grin grew, and there was something else in it that Ryuuji’s chest aching in a different way.

“I can even make it a yakisoba bun. No generation long grudges needed.”

“No?” Ryuuji asked softly, and wished he could just explain. He had a feeling Rin really might listen and tell him he wasn’t over reacting. That all of this did deserve tears.

He grabbed another tissue instead and put all of those thoughts away as he closed the lid of his laptop, promising the dead he’d return to them as soon as he could think and see clearly.

“A yakisoba bun sounds good. The deli probably still has a few.”

Rin’s nose wrinkled up again. “No, we’re gonna make it. None of that overly processed garbage.”

“That garbage is delicious.”

“You’re lucky you’re cool ‘cuz you got awful taste.”

And then Rin was lifting Ryuuji’s bag and heading off towards his dorm, leaving Ryuuji to chase after him and at least momentarily forget that his cheeks were stiff with tears and his throat was thick from them.

-- -- -  ( •́ω•̩̥̀ ) - -- --

It was late and dark and Ryuuji had no idea how Rin knew, but his boyfriend did and came up beside him for the run and sat beside him when Ryuuji couldn’t run any further. He had a pack of tissues that he passed over as they collapsed on the bench, and his arm went around Ryuuji as he accepted them.

He’d long since given up trying to hide them around Rin, and he just dabbed a few of the tears away and tilted himself into the side Rin was offering him with a sniffle that could just be pathetic. It was safe to be pathetic and sad around Rin. To let that guard down and that self-preservation and cry without having to be wary. His tears and emotions were safe with Rin, just like Rin’s were safe with him.

“Wanna talk about it?” Rin asked, and brought his other hand around to brush through Ryuuji’s hair.

“Not a lot to talk about,” Ryuuji garbled around the phlegm in his throat and dabbed pointlessly at the tears that were still trying to fall. He couldn’t help the harsh breath or the way he could feel a sob rising and he hated that the memories were there, but Rin had just as bad of ones and Ryuuji hated that too.

There was nothing he could do about either of those things, and the people who had been hurt and killed deserved at least his tears.

“The nightmare? Section Thirteen?”

Ryuuji nodded and tilted his head against Rin’s shoulder. He was getting snot and tears on Rin’s hoodie. Rin didn’t seem to mind and kept brushing his fingers through Ryuuji’s hair.

“Well then, we can feed Amaimon Mephisto’s game collection tomorrow.”

The laugh slipped past Ryuuji without quite meaning to. His arm came around Rin’s middle and hugged him as the sob settled into something more like a hiccup and a hitch in his breath. 

“Yeah,” Rin continued. “He likes to eat the controllers. Beetlebug—”

“Beezlebub.”

“Beezlebub will take his ramens if I tell him they’re barbecue flavored.”

Ryuuji’s eyes slipped closed for a moment. The tears were still there and the ache in his chest wasn’t likely to go away, but it helped that he could just let them fall. That Rin didn’t think less of him for them.

“Sounds fair.”

“He’s an ass and deserves it.” Rin said decisively. His fingers brushed through Ryuuji’s hair and his lips pressed against Ryuuji’s forehead before both his arms were wrapping around Ryuuji’s middle and hugging him close, unashamedly cuddly even in the public of a park.

Ryuuji felt indescribably safe like this. Safe to cry, yes, but safe in a different way too. Heard? Possibly, though that didn’t quite describe it either.

It was different in every way from being that kid begging the people around him, the people that he cared so much for to stay. Rin wasn’t going anywhere, and he showed that. He let Ryuuji show himself and let Ryuuji mourn the losses and dark memories and the fears and the excitement and didn’t run and didn’t shy away. He met it head on and he let Ryuuji have a place to get himself calm again.

Even if it was a park in the middle of the night.

“You’re not going back to your dorm,” Rin said when Ryuuji shifted a little and fisted the soiled tissue.

“I’m not?” Ryuuji asked a bit wetly.

“Nope. You’re coming back with me.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to get me to stay over.”

Rin tickled his hip. “I am.”

“Pervert,” Ryuuji joked, and pinched Rin’s side in retaliation of that tickle.

“Yep!” Rin said cheerfully, and scooped Ryuuji right up in his arms like he weighed nothing. Ryuuji’s squawk was loud in the stillness around them, and Rin’s responding laugh was even louder.

--  -- -- -- --

So, housekeeping about my fic submissions and turning off anon.

1) I’ve been harassed by anons for a few years now on tumblr and ao3 and it was exhausting and demoralizing

2) I was getting in a bad headspace about the number of anon requests I was getting and how little interaction the fills of those requests were getting. It was mostly a me problem, because it’s not healthy to write for engagement and reception, but it’s also a very hard thing to mentally turn off, and the amount of requests and the way they’re just consumed made me feel like people saw me as just some kind of vending machine they could feed a prompt into and get a product out of and not a human who does this for fun and because I like the community and connection. The like to reblog ratio being depressing, the silence from whoever had requested those prompts on whether or not they liked them/even read them, and the tone on how some of them were super bossy and demanding  were absolutely getting to me, so all of those reasons led me to turning off the anon and seeing if that helps my brain space.

Short answer,  not really? But I’m also getting  better at accepting that my stuff will likely get consumed without a lot of engagement and I should focus on only doing the stuff I’ll have fun with, so I’m slowly getting there (･ω･)b

[vamqyr3]

u think u could do some smut with gaz?? there’s just not enough of it, literally anything i imagine him to be quite soft and loving icl

↳ KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK // PIG OUT. ୨୧

CW// BREEDING, RESTRAINING, DIRTY TALK, MENTIONS OF CAGES, DRY HUMPING, ONSIES, CRIB MENTION, FEM!READER, ECT.

NOTES// awe that so cute! Anyways, Pervert!Gaz treating you like breeding livestock.

There’s a distinct clink of metallic plastic on plastic. The links of handcuffs scrape into each other. The sound is ever constant, mocking the waves of his hips. Your nose deep into a pillow, damn near suffocating with two fingers wedged thick behind an elastic collar. Maybe this is his way of mercy, humping you senseless till inhibition melts away into slack. He’s billowing out hot smoke, towering over you strong and tall. Snapping you in half and demanding obedience with his left hand, other to your neck. He had been mad, carefully angry with you. Quick to listen to you beg to leave the spreader bar in its place over in the corner. How you would do well, speak kindly and make do.

There’s sharp jabs of pleasure here and there, mixing in with the frivolous heat induced friction of his waistband. It tickles, Gaz is lovingly gliding over the base of your spine. Trickling down between your waist and rigid back. A contrasting reminder to keep still and shut up. This is for him, your death, his gain.

Lined fingertips leave you a while to pull down the rest of his pant. The best of it coming down with his previous grinding. Had you been upright maybe he would’ve made you bite it off, dragged you by a knot in your hair and wrangled you still.

Fatty slaps replace metallic clicks, a soft connect between his dick and your upper half. His entrance comes without delay, it makes the cuffs spring off your back and wiggle around your wrists. Makes your spine curve to meet his weight and fabric stick to your lips with a sharp intake. His pride bites at his gummy lip, beating down approving noises. He scratches at your bloated cirvex with intention. Maybe he should’ve attached you to the crib he set up, fucked you there and left you to bake. Stuffed a blue onesie in your mouth to really shut you up, drive it home.

“Give me,” there’s a strained pause in his throat, “a son, bitch,”

Drool begins to pool in the slack of your mouth, first coaxing the collar then the sheets. His fingers tug at it, bring you back father with no breathing room. Not that you dared to move, lest he bring out harsher forms of punishment.

“I bet you’d look just as pretty round with a kid, honey,” he’s bullying your insides, voice tinted with sweet high honey. “Are you excited? Yeah, huh? Fuck, I bet you’d be just as sensitive,” your mind coasts to the thought of it. Mixing in with the pounding white noise of his hands clapping on your ass and the crude sharp hits jutting into your spine. It’s buttering down your thighs, oiling them wide and taunt, bulky lips bloating with pleasure.

He falls into a delicious rhythm, pressing you to warm the mattress and choking your wrists. Slowly, Gaz begins to swell up.

“Shit, I should keep you here, come back and make sure your nice and fucked,” he stabs your insides, mixing it to mush. “Would you like that baby? Huh? If I propped you up and fucked you like an animal?” You have half a mind to respond between wheezes and coughs. But you would. You would love for him to plug you wide with meaty fingers, stuff hot salty cum back between you and swallow what dared to escape. Lick the wet spots and worship every splatter. And with every sweet graze of his hipbone, red angry mark on your skin. Every pulse, squeeze and vibration, you wanted nothing more.

Gaz begins to bubble over, hand falling from your choker to waist. The slams sound even wetter, thick puff dribbles of gloss glissade down his thighs and mix into his happy trial. His twitching becomes sporadic, toppling over to steady himself onto you. Dumping heavy, brined loads of musty cum all throughout. A few crackled moans follow, and slowly his breathing shallows, steady. You roll on your side, assuming him to be spent.

Open mouthed and crusted with spit and salt, he grabs at you again by the thigh, steadying movement.

“Weren’t not done,”

[muses-inn]

[More toadally rad Battletoads facts and stuff.]

Their Size

The Battletoads are TALL. Zitz: 6' 8" (203.2 cm) Rash: 6' 3'' (190.5 cm) Pimple: 7'4" (223.51 cm) They maintain their size in their TMNT Rise! AU. Also, a headcanon/observation by yours truly, Pimple grows even bigger when he gets really mad. He goes from 223cm to around 235cm during a fit and returns to normal size afterward.

Their Age

At the beginning of their adventures, Zitz was 20, Rash 17 and Pimple 19. They were trapped in a simulator for 26 years, which makes them canonically 46, 43 and 45. But, personally I think there are some time-gaps in between their earlier adventures of around 2 years in total, so I headcanon them to be: 48 (Zitz) 45 (Rash) 47 (Pimple). If they're personally asked about their age, tho? Zitz will give a very accurate answer after doing the maths real quick. And then lament about the 26 years they spent in a simulator without noticing. Pimple will just shrug because he didn't keep track of his age and doesn't really care either. And Rash will flat-out lie about his age every damn time. Sometimes he's 18, sometimes he's 20, and the next time he claims to be still 17.

Their Origins

Zitz' actual name is Morgan Ziegler, Rash' name is Dave Shar and Pimple's real name is George Pie. They were best friends and game testers before they got sucked into the gamescape and are in an alternate reality ever since .They have no recollection of their origins. They also never really talk about it. Are they brothers? Best friends? It doesn't matter. They are the Battletoads and they always stick together. Your muse is free to give them alternate nicknames. The Toads will likely roll with it if they like it. In the 2020 game, Pimple wears a robe that says 'Ron' on the name tag while he works at the Spa, and he clearly just went with that. But, we can also explore their origins in a thread.

Their Dynamic

Zitz is their fearless but also slightly insecure leader. He vibes with Pimple and also gets along well with Rash. He's the middle-man, keeping them together and knows how to deal with the other two. He's the one you want to call when Pimple flies into a fit of rage or to talk some sense into Rash. Rash is the quirky youngest of the trio. He is always up for fun and action and generally a cool guy to have around. But he can be all over the place with his whirlwind of moods and quickly shifting attention span, making it very likely that he has ADHD. He can go ballistic on someone real quick, but 3 seconds later it's all Kumbaya again. Pimple is the reformed bully and heavy hitter of the Toads. He's grown tired of senseless violence and tries to solve a problem peacefully. He only fights passionately now if it is for a good reason. As a result, he bottles all his anger and frustration up now until he explodes. He will literally blackout during a rampage, having him shocked over his own deeds once he snaps out again. Among each other, Pimple and Rash can be the source of frustration to each other due to their different personality. But they still love and care for each other deeply. If one is in trouble, the other will jump in to help them right away. They always vary between calling each other 'brothers' and 'best friends'.

[mightyflamethrower]

Things are becoming so strange, so surreal, so nihilistic in contemporary America that the chaos can only be deliberate. Chance, incompetence, and accident could not alone explain the series of disasters we now daily witness that are nearly destroying the country.

When the ailing and non-compos-mentis president now speaks, he rarely becomes excited about Iranian or terrorist provocations. Biden seems restrained even at Russia’s outlawry in Ukraine. The atrocities of Hamas now earn only measured objections from Biden. He does not seem too angered by the collapse of the border. Nor do the deaths of 100,000 Americans to imported fentanyl earn a loud trademark Biden scream.

No, what earns his unchecked ire, often expressed in shouts and hysterical tones, are Donald Trump and his supporters. Most recently, out of nowhere, Biden resurrected the old and proven falsehood that Trump had libeled the Normandy dead as losers and suckers. He then compounded that libel by claiming Trump’s supposed dismissal of the heroic dead was a grievous family insult to his own late son, who did not die either in combat or while in uniform but in 2015, tragically, from brain cancer.

During these anti-Trump fits, Biden wakes up and his face tightens up. He begins screaming, in uncharacteristic, animated fashion, anytime he can smear half the nation’s voters as “semi-fascists” and “ultra-MAGA” extremists. In private, he swears that Trump is a “f—ing asshole” and “sick f—k.” If only Biden substituted “cartel” or “Iran” or “Hamas” for “Trump” or “MAGA.” we might see an animate president.

A Borderless Nation

Meanwhile, a mob of illegal aliens recently tried to kick and stomp sprawled New York peace officers into senselessness—felonies that would earn any such violent citizen a decade or more on Rikers Island.

Yet somehow, only a few were arrested. Stranger still, all of them were immediately let go without bail—as if freeing wolves to prey further upon sheep.

Upon release, a few smirked and flipped their middle fingers to bystanders. Apparently, they wished to show Americans that they are violent, crude, unrepentant, and exempt. And thus they tell us that their newfound hosts are fools for letting the likes of themselves in.

And why not, given the attackers bussed with impunity to California—the land of free everything if only one qualifies as illegally residing in the U.S.

These grotesque bullies are part of the eight-million illegal aliens who pranced across the southern border without background checks—all taking Biden up on his 2019 encouragement to “surge” the border with impunity.

Many brandish their cartel affiliations. Some pay for their transit by smuggling cartel fentanyl, which contributes to 100,000 American overdose deaths per year. Others sport lengthy criminal records. All seemed to have been welcomed out of their countries by conniving Latin American governments and mysteriously invited into our country by our derelict president.

The Death of the Law

There is a continuing pattern here. Sometime around late 2020, Americans woke up in a country they no longer recognized. That summer, tens of thousands of rioters had looted, burned, killed, maimed, and assaulted for four months with veritable impunity. Leftwing mayors and governors dubbed the violence as “largely peaceful” demonstrations or a “summer of love.”

The 2020 legacy of defunding the police and exempting criminals on the basis of their race or ideology is that each week now videos circulate of massive looting, smash-and-grab epidemics, and deadly car-jackings in our major cities. No one cares much about the small business owners who are ruined.

Who laments for the poor who lose their last shopping outlet? Does the Biden administration worry over the terrified employees who are ordered to stand back or the occasional security officer totem instructed to stand down?

Instead, we are to empathize with the thief, the assaulter, the rapist, and the carjacker—at least in the sense that he does not deserve punishment for the mayhem he caused, given we, not he, are supposedly the true guilty parties. A lot of innocent and defenseless people have been assaulted and killed since 2020 as the wage of that toxic theory.

So the subtext of all these violent acts is exemption based on perceived correct race, ideology, or membership in the supposed victim/oppressed binary. The perpetrators are either not arrested, let out the same day as arrested, never charged, or never convicted. And the result is a growing distrust of the law and a cynicism that there is little law anymore, just statutes used against political undesirables.

If, for just one month, the Biden justice department used the same resources and budget it has spent the last three years rounding up bystanders at the January 6 riot and instead prosecuted, convicted, and jailed these big-city violent assailants, then the crime epidemic could be solved.

The Implosion of the University

As a general rule, in 2024, the more “prestigious” our universities, and the more they prided themselves as elite or Ivy-League, the more likely there were racially segregated dorms and graduations, a virtual anti-Semitic hounding of Jewish students, grade inflation, watered-down courses, and pro-Hamas terrorist demonstrations.

For nearly a hundred years, universities told us that the SAT or ACT admittance exam was critical in determining their admissions. It was sold as a way to confirm the potential and preparation necessary to perform at a level demanded by these elite schools. The tests were praised as a meritocratic tool to determine talent by honing grade point averages and allowing opportunity to those without money and contacts. Then suddenly, in 2021, these tests were mostly junked.

That dismissal of standardized tests was a de facto admission that:

1) Universities had been admittedly wrong for a century that standardized admissions tests had any value in determining the degree of student preparation needed to complete a rigorous Ivy League class load. or 2) in the interest of diversity, equity, and inclusion, the university would now be free to admit students who could not meet their prior unrealistic or unnecessary standards and instead would accommodate new students by suddenly inflating grades, introducing easier classes, or diminishing required course work.

Of course, the university admits to neither of these realities. It compounds the deception and fraud by claiming new generations of students are more competitive and gifted than ever and will leave with degrees that guarantee employers rigorously trained graduates. Time will soon tell.

The End of Deterrence

The same nihilism characterizes our foreign policy.

Our worst enemies could not have planned a more disastrous and humiliating withdrawal from Afghanistan than the Biden administration’s August 2021 scamper. We simply, without an afterthought, abandoned billions of dollars of sophisticated weapons to Taliban terrorists.

We left behind a $1 billion new embassy and a remodeled Air Force base. We bragged about taking out terrorists with a “righteous strike” that wiped out an entire friendly Afghan family, while 13 American service personnel were blown up trying to secure a non-securable escape route.

Then followed the mysterious laxity as a Chinese spy balloon lazily traversed the U.S. with impunity. Next was the radical drop-off in military recruitment. If one wished to ensure that the one group that serves—and dies—in combat units at twice its demographics would exit the military en masse, prompting an enlistment crisis, the Pentagon could not have done a better job.

The top brass all but accused its white male recruits of being prone to toxic white supremacy, only to form a task force to root it out—and then discover such rage and hatred never existed in the first place.

It nonetheless drummed out 8,400 veterans for not receiving the mRNA vaccinations, many of whom had naturally acquired immunity and real doubts about the efficacy or safety of the inoculations. And, finally, the Pentagon made it known that prior standards of recruitment, promotion, and evaluation had apparently weakened the military. Therefore, new race- and gender-based criteria would ensure fewer and now unneeded white males in positions of rank and influence.

Abroad, China serially threatens to annex Taiwan. A hungry and perennially restless Vladimir Putin once upon a time thought he was restrained from invading his neighbors by fear of more costs incurred than the likelihood of benefits to be gained. But like an earlier reaction to a weakened U.S. in 2008 and 2014, Putin assumed that the 2022 Biden administration would likely do little if he annexed greater swaths of Ukraine. And so he invaded.

National security advisor Jack Sullivan, on the eve of the October 7 Hamas massacres of Jewish citizens, claimed the Middle East was at last calm. Now it is on the verge of a theater-wide war, once Iran sensed that the Biden team would appease and beg it to behave.

So the Biden administration was eager to end oil sanctions, plead with Iran to reenter the Iran Deal, remove the Houthis from terrorist designations, route billions of dollars to Tehran for hostages, junk the Abrams accords, and restore millions of dollars in please-be-nice bribe money to the Palestinians.

Biden’s abject misreading of human nature has ensured that a thuggish theocracy that slaughters abroad and tortures at home would interpret that reproachment as either naiveté or stupidity. And thus it would respond with contempt and escalating aggression. And so it has.

Somehow, over just three years, the Biden administration did to the Middle East what it did to the southern border: blew it up in the same exact manner of mindlessly undoing any policy that had previously worked with Trump’s finger prints on them.

What Is Going On?

What is the common denominator, what is the rationale behind the anarchy, and what is the reason why a president would so willingly rend the fabric of America?

Why would the government privilege the illegal alien over the law-abiding citizen? The violent pro-Hamas, anti-Semitic foreign-born protestor over the peaceful pro-Israel, U.S. citizen? The smash-and-grabber over the dutiful security guard?

We are nearing a French Revolution, reign-of-terror moment. The law seems to be what a cabal of hardcore leftists who control the Oval Office say it is.

Joe Biden’s administration offers no better confirmation of warnings from Thucydides to Thomas Hobbes that the veneer of civilization is precious, hard-won, quite thin, and beneath it churns innate human savagery and chaos roaring to be released.

So why did Biden unleash the hounds of anti-civilization? Did he despise the supposedly boring middle-class citizen who follows the law, pays all his taxes, and never gets arrested? Does he hate the idea of meritocracy? In Biden’s puppeteers’ dangerous calculus, is all this savagery and chaos a deliberate mechanism to ensure parity? Equity? Inclusion?

So is the deliberate nihilism—economic, social, cultural, social, and political—a way of leveling the field? Making life difficult for the more successful? Making those who cherish the traditions and protocols of America pay?

Is that the plan to take the country to near collapse, and then only at the abyss itself to force revolutionary change—or else?

How else can anyone explain the descent of our city downtowns into dank medieval cesspits, our notion of male and female transformed into the sexual circus right out of Petronius’s Satyricon, our race relations into a mixture of Rwanda and Yugoslavia, and our universities into Soviet-like “People’s Universities of Correct Thought?”

None of this was by accident. It is the dividend of a philosophy that says, “We have to blow up your America before we can reboot it for us.”

[deva-arts]

What if Vincent was a well adjusted contributing member of society? And then like married Sonia? And raised a child/children?

I think that would be a pretty neat AU

Meeting Sonia would slow his pace somewhat, despite himself. They meet because of a crossover event where Sonia was supposed to co-host for one of his competitions. She likes the winner she's interviewing, and he kind of likes her vibe. They catch each other after the event, grab some drinks... And things kind of keep going from there. Vincent would be in a place where he could accept and reciprocate Sonia's affections. Sonia? overjoyed. Overwhelmed? yes that too.

More art and talk under the cut!

She dressed herself to the nines because she was 98% sure he was going to propose. He's kind of an obvious person. What she didn't expect, however...

He was mentally counting down the cued explosion. Stuntman friends ftw!

I doubt that having a family of his own would sway him from his profession; if anything he would be the 'cool dad'. He'd have two boys that would wish to be like him someday. He made them a set of weights so they could be part of his workouts. He buys them dirt bikes and teaches them tricks to crush their competitions with. They box together. Human Vince would be a good- if a little much- father. Sonia would still be the glamour-queen she is, living her life, taking them on vacations, and generally being happy with her very extra family.

Keeping up with their jobs is a bit difficult with two children at first, but they soon find a balance that works for them! Vincent stops some gigs to stay in when Sonia is working on a big project, and Sonia does the same when Vincent needs to be out for a while. Outside of their larger, more demanding projects, the two of them are generally together to coparent. Sometimes Sera and Nate will babysit, though. Is it hard? absolutely. But it's worth it, especially since they both love their occupations.

So yeah. That'd be Vincent. Tame, but still pretty wild. Still a little obnoxious but self-aware and morally adjusted. Will steal two fistfuls of halloween candy. Will also:

Moon paparazzi.

Get a dog. Then another dog. Find out that the limit is three dogs.

Get more tattoos! No he's not putting Sonia's name on there.

Air punch people, places and things. Sometimes when people are talking.

Convince Sonia to go Skydiving. Also convince her to let him take the boys on a rollercoaster.

Enter eating competitions he will severely regret.

Take on dares he severely regrets.

Take on fights he severely regrets.

Do a polar plunge to get a tshirt worth $5.

Refuse to request for services in favor of doing the job himself. Results Vary.

Run out of ambulances. Sometimes on one foot. Results vary.

Scare children on halloween.

Scare his own children on halloween.

Live a painless and fulfilled existence where he is at ease with himself.

Know how babies are made.

Tell his kids what to do if they get bullied. (The answer is beat them senseless.)

Make Sonia happy :>

Aaaand that's basically all I can say about that.

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

High Sex HCs

Bakugou

God help you if this man smokes sativa before y'all fuck

"Stop fucking running and take this fucking dick" is a common theme

Any self respecting pussy having person would try to take a break after the fourth round!

And the fifth, and the sixth

You started on your hands and knees

Then it was just your knees while he fucked you hard enough to make his hips slap against your ass while he pummeled your cervix like the bully many accused him of being

Then you couldn't keep yourself up anymore and he started getting creative in finding ways to make sure you took his deep as possible

"Where do you think you're going? This pussy is mine to fuck full. Again. And Again. Until you're round with my babies, baby. Understood?"

Even when the weed wears off

just seeing you crying and leaking his cum and begging him to let you rest cause it's too much

will have him rolling up another blunt while y'all "rest"

Shinsou

He grows his own strains of indica because most strains for sale in town aren't enough to help him sleep

So when you go over to smoke with him you're knocked out by the first blunt, even though you'd been so sure you could handle his weed

Since he won the bet, he was happy to collect on his prize. The one you two agreed on while you blushed and flirted your heart out; letting him fuck you in you sleep

You're already soaked by the time you fall asleep against his chest, both of you having been cuddling while soft music played and exchanging secrets about your darkest fantasies (because it was the good indica, the kind that made you horribly horny even as you struggled to keep your eyes open)

He fingered you with ease and even though you were probably going to sleep well into the night you were still so responsive, moaning softly and making cute little whining sounds every time he added another finger to stretch you out

Fucking you while you slept and sighed and moaned for him was turning him on a lot more than expected

The weed and the sight of you stuffed full of cock while you dreamed completely unaware combined into a dark pleasure that grabbed him by the balls until he was make a cummy mess of your pussy

Tamaki

You bought the weed from Shinsou, and now Tamaki was relaxed and horny enough to fuck you stupid

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" He pinched your nipples as he fucked you harder and deeper than he usually let himself, finding it was cute the way the weed and his dick had a similar effect on you:

heavy lidded eyes, heavier breathing, and you stopped being able to speak coherently

"Big Tama, so fucking big I'm going to break-"

"That's not what I asked silly," he taunted and from the way you clenched around him you could focus enough to realize how fucked out you sounded and be embarrassed by it, which was good because if he couldn't make your pussy milk him tighter by being mean to you what was the point of degradation?

You could feel him rearranging your guts and you were selfishly pleased no one snapped him up before you two got together, it meant your shy lover and his long girthy cock were all yours- even when he stopped being so shy

Denki

It was ironically perfect, that he could charge every dab pen y'all had (which was quite a few because both of y'all were dedicated stoners) right before a night of cross faded party hopping

By the last party he's too hot from the way you've been dancing on him all night to wait, so you're gasping and trying to keep quiet while he fucked you against the wall of the upstairs hallway

The music downstairs is spilling up the stairs and giving you guys a bit of cover but the way he just pushed you against the wall and pulled your panties aside already has you being too loud

"I don't need to be prepped just fuck me fuck me fuck me-"

"Shut up!" He stuffed his fingers in your mouth and stuffed his cock in your pussy hard and deep and fast, making you moan- once again, too loud even with him muffling you

"If you're this loud when I'm just fucking your pussy then maybe I shouldn't take your ass.."

You whined like he would be robbing you if he didn't take your ass against a wall where anyone could catch you, and that's what made him forgive you for screaming when he blew his load in your tightness while circling your clit with his thumb

Tokoyami

Sativa made Tokoyami hungrier to fuck you again and again until you were twitching and leaking his cum and so overstimmed you could barely speak

"F-fumi--" You were certain you'd passed out at some point, but once again you woke to feeling him fucking you

The combined mess of bodily fluids between your thighs made the most embarrassing squelching sounds as he ground his cock into you, deeper- always deeper

It was after that particularly memorable night of discovering his breeding kink that you had a serious talk with him about why you were on birth control in the first place and that you had to limit the amount of times he came inside you

But every time y'all got high together you ended up getting filled

Indica made Dark Shadow strong enough to convince Tokoyami to double penetrate you with him

You weren't sure how it was possible (Tokoyami refused to go into detail and got incredibly flustered when you tried to question him) but Dark Shadow was able to cum inside you

So it didn't matter who took which hole, you were leaking cum from both your ass and your pussy by the time they were done fucking you senseless

Hybrid strains makes them both in the mood to stuff your pussy together and fill your womb, regardless of the fact that you're not on birth control for once (one of the small windows where you were talking the placebo pills)

You were sure you wouldn't have even considered this if you hadn't smoked just as much as your partner

You were seriously reconsidering as you felt Dark Shadow manifest a shaft just large enough to be painful when pushed inside you alongside Tokoyami's shaft

They were going to just feed off each other as they got more excited and you knew they already hated your reasoning for why you couldn't get pregnant

"G-guys you can't.. cum inside okay?"

They both groaned and pushed into you deeper at your words

"Seriously.. guys!"

Deku

High Deku is a fuckboy don't at me

All of a sudden it's "say less, ma" and his hands are wandering shamelessly

Because not only does weed make him horny, but it makes it easier to hold back so basically-

marathon sex

you're not walking after fam, just accept this

He's just as caring and thoughtful about your pleasure as always, making you fall apart on his fingers and cock again and again, he's just a little more cocky like his Kacchan usually is about it when he's high

"Now just three more on my tongue and then we'll see if I'm ready to cum.. but if you look too cute while I'm eating you out I might need to just keep fucking you after that"

He cums twice in your pussy and when you beg him to let you rest and he keeps trying to fuck one more load into you, you throw out mindlessly "Just fuck my ass instead please! I'm so sore, 'Zuku, please.."

He runs with it

Now you're begging him to cum because your ass can't take as much as your pussy, and even though he's masterfully touching your clit and helping you cum- he feels so much thicker in your ass when you're shivering and shaking from his mouth on your throat and his thumb grinding into your sensitive clit

When he finally fills your ass he gets a little too excited and all you remember is green lightning filling your room before he fucked you unconscious

Shoto

Likes to use his quirk on you when he's high, spanking you with painfully hot palms and fucking you with ice fingers at the same time

His tongue and dick are always addictingly hot though

Cold fingers pinch your nipples once he's inside you, and his hot hand on your hip while he's fucking you makes you feel branded- owned

You weren't sure if you hated it or loved it but weed also got your usually clammed up boyfriend to finally start talking

"I always wonder, are you always a slut like this during sex or is it just with me? Either way I don't think I can let anyone else ever see you like this. You're mine forever now darling."

Your pussy clenched around him in agreement and he groaned, his voice turning accusatory as he fucked you harder making the wet squelching more evident "Your pussy is more honest than you are. She know's who her master is doesn't she?"

"Shoto!"

"Quiet now. I'm trying to ask if she wants me to give her a baby."

You screamed when you came then, and when you could finally focus again Shoto was pressing your thighs to your chest and fucking you in a deep mating press telling you heatedly

"You fucking -hng, squirted all over me baby. That means you want it too right? You want me to fuck a baby into your womb?"

You knew you were on birth control even if his high ass forgot but you couldn't even get that out, arousal took over your brain and all you could do was beg him "Yes, please Sho, give me a baby-"

You were high as fuck too, and it felt too good to pretend he could get you pregnant like you asked

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[ofallthingsnasty]

I feel like a "fun" yandere dynamic would be Rumi and Fathum

Rumi is the one to punish you. To slap you around when you act like a brat or try to escape. The one to fuck you senseless because that could be a reason your acting out. The one who has no problem sending you to bed without dinner or locking you in the basement for a day or so. The one who takes pleasure in harassing you. The one who isn't scared to reality check you and threaten to hurt you. The one who would aranage for people to fuck you up if you ever get out. She's the enforcer, the bully. Don't get her wrong, she loves you thoroughly but she has to make sure you know your place. At the end of the night she isn't going to stop you from cuddling her though, in fact she'll make you so long as your not being punished or cuddling fat gum.

And then there is fat gum, the one to come hold you after Rumi's done with you. The one who gently wipes away the tears with a soft thumb, telling you she only does it because you were a brat and no other reason, that she loves you dearly. The one who seeks you out in the day to remind you that they both love you and you can't ever leave them. The one who sits you on his lap and takes everything slow with you when you first are taken. The one who still sits you on his lap and hold you and explains things for you. The one who is slightly more emotionally manipulative and uses his tears against you at any given chance. The one who bathes you ever so gently after you fucked clueless by Rumi. The one who holds you to his chest when you get tired. He just loves you so much and if Rumi wants to be the bully, he has no problem being the hero and telling you everything is fine before sitting you on the counter and baking for you.

Aw omg anon this is so cute 🥺💖 You're right, it'd be dizzying. And goodness, thank you for the food!! I want Tai to be all soft and gentle with me while also reminding me that I'm being so, so bad and that's why Rumi has to hurt me 💖 Yes please baby me 💖💖

tw.yandere, established 'relationship'

That contrast between Rumi's cruelness and Taishiro being all soft and gentle with you... I think it'd be quite easy to forget that he's just as fucked up as Rumi is, that he wants to keep you just as much as she does. He respects your personal space - even asks for permission to hug you - always knows how to comfort you with a little quip and your favorite sweets and he actually listens to you. You actually feel better after you're done talking to him, even if it's only a little bit. How jarring it is for him to agree with Rumi, to gently chide you for your 'wrong-doings' - especially when you just told him all about your feelings, how Rumi's presence and treatment can be so stifling and terrible. What a betrayal...

And how you'd dread Rumi's moods with time - how you'd try your best to be good for her so you don't have to suffer through her punishments anymore because they're so cruel and unjust. Taishiro's words are always at the back of your mind (that if you behave, that if you just do as she says, she won't be like this anymore-) and when she's in front of you - you fold like a wet paper bag, much to her delight.

Also, I don't necessarily see Taishiro and Rumi as kidnappers (separately, like each one on their own) - both for different reasons - but in this dynamic? Probably the 'best' way for them to have a go at this. You'd probably be broken in in no time with their 'good cop bad cop' spiel, that'd make anyone confused.

And Fatgum using his tears against you? 🤧 That's so fucking mean, I can't. I'd probably cry along with him in that moment ahsjs - all in all a super interesting thought, I'd love to come back to this in the future!

[lovelyshawnn]

Sick Little Games

George Weasley x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader

Y/N and Draco were known as the ultimate slytherin duo. When she catches him in the act of infidelity, she makes it a goal to hurt him back as much as he hurt her. What starts as nothing but a sick little game, turns into something more with another red headed boy.

“what would malfoy think if he knew i was fucking his girl right now?” george grunted in my ear, hips thrusting into mine while my back was pressed against the prefect bathroom’s cold stone wall. my legs were wrapped around his waist, sultry moans tumbling out of my mouth as he fucked me senseless. his words only intensified the pleasure as i gripped on to his biceps for support. he could feel my wet pussy clenching around his throbbing cock, signfying that i was close to coming.

“what would your little boyfriend think if he knew how well you take my cum?” i let out a whimper as his thick cock hit my gspot, making my vision go completely white. “fuck y/n,” he grunted as his pace quickened. i let out a string of curse words, toes curling in pleasure as he rubbed my clit with his long slender fingers as we reached our orgasms together.

his movements slowed and eventually halted, cock still balls deep in me as he placed loving kisses all over my face. he slowly released me from his hold, planting my feet back on the ground before completely removing himself from me. with our chests still heaving, we transitioned from standing by the bathroom’s windows, to the warm bubbly bath. this was common thing for us, so naturally we were able to establish a routine. sneaking out of the dorms late at night to see each other, satisfying our thirsts for each other before taking a dip in the bath to relax and cleanse ourselves of our sins.

george’s hands worked its way down my neck and shoulders, rubbing out any knots while he gave me little pecks on my forehead. i smiled my first genuine smile of the day. i was constantly dragging myself throughout the day, in and out of my classes, plastering a fake smile until the clock struck a certain time at night where i would meet up with george. “so why are you still with that git anyways?”

i rolled my eyes at his choice of words. i considered not even replying at all, but one glance at his concentrated face with that accusational eyebrow raise, and i knew this was something he wasnt going to drop again.

“he loves me,” i sighed, shrugging my shoulders.

“he loves you? is that why you caught him fucking pansy parkinson in the forbidden section of the library?” georges hostile tone rang in my ears.

it was supposed to be our date night. draco knew how stressed i had been with all our recent exams, and how much i needed a break. my sweet, loving boyfriend of almost 2 years proposed we have a date night full of snuggles and snacks to relieve my stress. after getting dolled up and waiting in our slytherin common room for over an hour, i came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to show up.

the silly thing was, i really tried to make excuses for him. blaise had strolled past on his way up to his dorm and asked why i was sitting there all alone. “just waiting on draco,” id say passively, in which he’d give me a pitiful smile before heading up. i thought, maybe he just got caught up on some of his prefect duties. or maybe he took a nap and overslept. or maybe he even got detention for the day, but he would never forget about me, right? surely he couldn’t forget about his own plans that he made.

i’d grown tired of sitting there all alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive. so i grabbed my book bag and decided to head to the library to get a head start on some homework. walking deeper and deeper into the dark library, thats when i heard it. the faint gasps and moans coming from a high pitched female voice. “ugh,” i thought, “who wouldn’t even have the decency to go to a private spot?”

i rounded the corner, my eyes almost bulging out of my skull as i took in the sight in front of me. a bright platinum head of hair stuffed into the crook of pansy parkinsons neck, as he fucked her on one of the library desks with her skirt hitched all the way up. they had been so into it that they didnt even see me. what gave it away was some stupid lamp falling over as i rushed out of the library, tears in my eyes. athough they stopped at the sound indicating someone was there, they never knew it was me.

my vision was blurry, tears streaming faster down my cheeks as i ran away. i wasnt sure where i was going, but i knew i had to be as far away as possible from that complete and utter asshole. from the second i saw him til now, a million feelings coursed through my body. i was devastated, devastated that the man i loved for 2 whole years had been lying to my face. how long was he unloyal for? was this the first time? these unanswered questions made me transition from grief to rage. i was infuriated that he took me as some kind of fool who would never find out about his cheating ways. i had been so caught up in my emotions that i didnt notice where i was going, smacking face first into a very toned chest.

“Woah! Y/N? You alright there, love?” George’s voice was impossible not to recognize. “Oh, I-I’m sorry,” I gasped before turning around to leave. His warm hand clasped around my wrist softly, tugging me back as one of his hands lifted my chin up so that he could inspect my face, and most importantly my blood shot eyes.

“You’re crying,” his voice was a lot softer than i’ve ever heard it before. with him being a gryffindor and me being a slytherin, i was used to the rude remarks he’d yell at us in the hallways. him and his lovely twin have always made my life here at hogwarts a living hell. as of recently, he went from constant bullying to the exact opposite. he was always throwing complements my way as loud and obnoxious as possible. and i knew he did it just to get a rise out of his most hated slytherin of all, draco. draco was always a possesive boyfriend, not wanting any guys to look at me. but having a weasley complement me out of everyone else would’ve drove him absolutely mad.

however, what started out as an excuse to piss off draco, had turned into something else. george couldn’t help but notice how my eyes were a lot browner than he remembered, a certain twinkle in them whenever i got excited talking to my housemates about something. he quickly found himself feeling jealous as malfoy walked through the halls with his arm around my shoulder.

of course, i was oblivious to all of this, which would’ve explained his soft tone. “I’m fine,” I sniffled, wiping my tears off with the sleeve of my sweater and avoiding direct eye contact. “Come with me,” he wasted no time, dragging me down the corridor before i could mutter a response. he led me to the prefect bathroom, opening the doors for me as i took in the beautiful mosaics.

“how did you even get the password?” i asked suspiciously to the troublesome boy.

he shrugged, “turned percy’s hair blue and wouldnt change it back until he’d tell me,”

i let out a snort, which i was quick to cover with a cough. only he could make me genuinely laugh after figuring out the man i had loved so deeply, didnt love me back enough to keep his dick in his pants. i turned away from his gaze, but he saw it. he took pride in being able to cause that gorgeous smile, but he was nice enough to not tease me about it tonight. he’d definitely bring it up another day, though.

“so, whats wrong?” he asked, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the porcelain sinks. i let out a sigh, debating on whether i should tell him at all. he was supposed to be our rival, afterall.

“draco cheated,” i stated. georges face softened, all traces of humor dissipating into thin air. “i’m sorry y/n,” he started, “that bloke doesn’t know what he’s got.”

for the first time that night, i looked up at him and saw the look he had in his eyes. the lingering gaze around my figure, the softness in his facial features, the way his eyes bored into mine with a sense of longing.

that was when a lightbulb when off in my head. ill admit that im not proud of what my next thought was, and it was definitely one of the most slytherin things i have ever done, but it was worth it. i wanted to hurt draco. i wanted him to feel as bad as i did, and i wanted revenge.

i strode over to his leaning frame, making it a point to swing my hips in the process. my lips formed a pout as i spoke to him in a low voice. “if he doesn’t know what hes got,” i trailed my fingers from his shoulders down to his chest, “who will?”

my lips got incredibly closer to the shell of his ear. “you?” i asked, cupping his buldge with my hand. he let out a barely audible whimper, eyes staring back at me like a deer in headlights.

i left a gentle kiss on his neck, “tell me if you want me to stop.” george shut his eyes for a split second, contemplating his morals. he weighed his options and outcomes. on one hand, he’d be able to piss off that spoiled brat malfoy, which would give him enough satisfaction to last him the rest of his life. on the other hand, he’d finally get to know what the taste of his crush’s lips were like. it was a win win situation. fuck it, he thought before closing the gap between us, lips moving in sync as the kiss became increasingly passionate. his hands roamed all over my body as i ran my fingers through his hair.

it was an amazing night, full of multiple orgasms that left me struggling to walk properly. george was certainly thicker than malfoy. the day after was when the feelings of sadness, regret, and confusion came sinking in. as soon as i woke up and left my dorm, there he was. in his perfect green uniform that perfectly matched his perfect porcelain skin. dracos head was held high, not a care in the world as it was obvious he completely forgot about our date night and had no idea i caught him and pansy red handed.

i walked past him, not even batting an eye in his direction as i made my way to the great hall. “y/n!” he called out, quickly catching up to me, “whats wrong?”

i rolled my eyes, “you forgot our date.” his eyes immediately widened as he realized his mistake, cheeks blushing like a tomato as he recalled where he was instead of the date. “darling, please forgive me. i’m so sorry, i just got caught up in my studi-“

i halted my steps, not wanting to listen to his bullshit excuse, “i forgive you.” he looked at me with bewilderment, “y-you forgive me?”

“of course,” i gave him the most convincingly sweet smile, “its not a big deal at all!”

his shoulders relaxed in relief at my words. oh, what a stupid boy. what a stupid, stupid boy. the only reason i was “forgiving him” was because i was going to hurt him back, a lot worse. he held my hand in his as we continued our stroll to the great hall, him lifting my hand up to plant a kiss on my knuckles.

right when he had done that, i locked eyes with a familiar red head from across the corridor. he smirked as he watched me, noticing the way my steps were slightly different than normal. it was the same shit eating smile he wore last night as he made me reach my 3rd orgasm, face buried between my legs and licking up my juices as if his life depended on it. i bit my lip as the flashback played in my head, instantly making me feel lightheaded again.

draco and i took our usual spots at the slytherin table, everything seemingly normal until the owls arrived. a letter had been dropped into my lap.

unravelling the parchment, there was a faint message scribbled across in black ink. “same time and place tonight?”

there was no name or any indication of identity, but i knew exactly who it was. luckily from where i was sitting at the table, i had a clear view of george. as i looked up from the letter, i instantly made eye contact with him, him giving me a sly wink before regurning to eat his mashed potatoes. he didnt need an answer, he knew id come back after the night we had togegher.

“whos that letter from?” a voice snapped me out of my haze. i jumped slightly before tucking the letter safely into my robe, “oh, it was just mum.”

“whatd she say?” draco questioned, slightly suspicious as he recognized me hiding the letter.

“she asked how you were, shes having dinner with your parents this weekend,” i said while gulping down my goblet of juice. draco seemed convinced at that answer, dropping his suspicions rather quickly, “oh thats right, mother was telling me about that.”

it was ironic, really. we were seen as the picture perfect duo. the slytherin prince with none other than his slytherin princess. we had the world in our hands, both coming from wealthy pureblood families. even our parents were over the moon at the news of our relationship blossoming, instantly talking about our plans for marriage in the future. but were we willing to throw that all away for these sick little games?

hi guys i know i usually write shawn fics but ive been into hp recently and wanted to give it a try! if u guys rlly like this one, id love to make a part 2 n finish the series (: pls lmk and give feedback! 🤍

[wowsoboring]

Deconstructing Baseless Harry Potter Arguments#2 (i) : Harmione Edition

Obviously I once again do not mean to target all Harmione shippers. I know quite a few who're very good human beings and tolerant and accepting above all. However these aren't. In this case, you might sense quite a bit of levelheadedness in the beginning, however you must not be fooled as it goes south and takes a nasty turn very quickly. Don't get your hopes up, this is some of the worst shit I've ever seen, especially the way in which it progresses through its course. Naturally, for this post I have picked my own style of writing which will match that of those redditors. Reddit is the perfect breeding ground for all these weird cults, honestly. I shall be resorting to a formal language and style of conversation, very much like a debater would to sound as pretentious as these do. These posts are found on the instagram handle toxicharmonyshippers who gather such toxic musings and sayings for Harmione shippers while respecting the ones that are nice.

1)

Oh yes, let's use words like 'vehemently' to sound smart, why not? Of course, this little tidbit of the highly stupendous post seems more or less civil at the start. They also have the common decency to say "some Romione shippers" rather than generalizing all of us. Very nice of you, how very saint like. Let's wait till they drop the act and show us their true colors. Harkening back to the argument, I have but one question for you, "where do you find these people?". Where's the proof? Who are these radical Romione shippers who worship Ron and dislike Hermione? I haven't seen any such shippers and I am surrounded by Romione shippers on tumblr, instagram and fan fiction sites as well and haven't met the people you speak of. Some point out her flaws, yes, but no one hates her or dislikes her that much. I have seen two or three Romione shippers across hundreds and thousands who're skeptical of Hermione's perfection. Skeptical. Not hating, disliking, or anything. Of course, unlike this person, I have evidence: find these pi charts for your referral (clickable): https://imgur.com/a/QfPnQbB

you can, through these, see the amount of Hermione bashing across Harry Potter fanfiction and you can see that even in Romione fanfiction there's more Ron bashing. Hermione-bashing is a non-issue. That's what it is. Regarding the "nagging" statement, where's the lie in that? "Annoying" is somewhat subjective, I personally don't find her annoying at all. Who are these people and how often do you find them? "Mary Sue" is only reserved for Movie!Hermione. I have only seen book fans call her that. No one has ever called Book!Hermione Mary Sue. The movie does paint her as a flawless, all-rounder who's also drop-dead gorgeous. Only things she's bad at are flying and divination, all of which she denounces as useless, even though flying is like biking for wizards, divination, sure, not that important. with a teacher like Trelawney, even I would denounce it as hokum.

2)

Remember what I said about waiting for them to show us their true colors, well here they are. Bask in the glory of their senseless arguments. Why, I am from reddit, heck I have 25 thousand karma points on there, I just left because it was too stupid for me but I can argue like them very well. And in this case I would like to say that these people are under the impression that Ron is just there in the story for the sake of existence. And he doesn't work hard. That argument is of course, wrong. Because Ron (in no particular order):

1) fights a troll when he's 11

2) is willing to sacrifice himself when he's 11

3) stands up for his friends

4) makes sure Harry feels like he belongs in the family

5) worries about Harry and rescues him from literal jail

6) stands up against Draco rather than by-standing and enabling his behavior

7) tries his level best to make sure Norbert the dragon is in safe hands and carries it out, albeit not in perfection

8) is with Harry every step of the way in his confronting the basilisk

9) sends Harry and Hermione long letters and calls them often to check up on them

10) stands up on a bitten leg to defend his best friend

11) always apologizes for any of his mistakes and is forgiving when others wrong him

12) works his way to join the Quidditch team unlike Draco who most certainly bought his way in

13) destroys at least 2 horcruxes

14) finds out how to defeat a horcrux

15) has an excellent enough memory and observation to notice Harry speaking parseltongue and also using it to his benefit which proves he's resourceful

now since I have 8 more such pictures to rebut and I do have a life, I will stop. These aren't even a twelfth of the remarkable things Ron has done though, so rest assured.

oh wait what did you say about him just existing and not working for anything? If I recall correctly, he did just as well as Harry did in school and didn't score well only in subjects he didn't care about. Which is true for most people except for Hermione who has an eidetic memory which not everyone has, understandably. Rote memorization is not the best way to get by in life, by the way.

what are the "so many reasons" behind why Harry is the best fit for Hermione? Kindly share so I can rebut those too, I'm rather free nowadays, my finals have been cancelled. You say there are so many reasons but don't even give one, yet you want me to take you seriously. I'm afraid that's impossible.

Romione shipper here, i don't dislike Hermione. I haven't met or seen many people in the book!romione fandom who dislike Hermione (except for Movie!Hermione). The question of someone you like ending up with someone you dislike doesn't particularly make sense. In Friends, Chandler ends up with Monica: now I'm not the biggest Monica fan (I don't hate her but I don't like her very much either) but they are my favorite couple because they make sense. It's about compatibility and character traits, not liking or disliking because that's just a set-up for a ghastly invitation for people to pair up hideousness. "Oh yeah, I like Harry and I also like Hagrid, they should be together. I mean it would be very very disgusting but that's my logic, now, you can't fight it. "- that's how you sound. Please read what you write. Your logic is just...abysmal. That's all I can say without breaking my resolve and berating you with colorful profanities.

3)

This is without the doubt, the easiest one to rebut. It's a delight to see such terrible arguments at my disposal. Come on, dear Harmione shippers, write something that makes me question my choices, not things that make me scoff in disbelief.

In this case, you're essentially providing us with theories. Unproved theories and speculation of what you believe because you'd say anything you like. Where's the proof of your theory, though? Where is that crazy radical Romione shipper who does this? Kindly show me these people. Oh yes, you wanna say we objectify Hermione and disrespect her and view her as a prize. This aches me, that you believe this. No one has ever insinuated this, ever, in the history of anything. What is this winner-loser theory? How do you round off Harry Potter to "an alpha-male ends up with lead-lady" trope and still say you're a fan of the series? Harry Potter doesn't fit in with that format. Ron, Hermione and Harry are co-heroes. Similar to how there's no main character in Friends or the Heroes of Olympus series or the Avengers. We're not living in the 80s anymore. Hermione will be a hero, invariably whether she ends up with Harry, Ron or no one. She ends up with Ron and that's it. Talking about her like this doesn't make you sound any better either. Now you're calling me a misogynist because I don't support the ship of two people who describe themselves as siblings. That's very mature of you. Well here's the thing- I'm not a misogynist. It's as simple as that. I believe that women are capable of anything and everything. I believe Hermione is an amazing person and she is a hero and a different person. I believe the series would be impossible without her. I believe she is no one's prize. There's no requirement of a prize. I just think, similar to canon and the truth and her romantic interest, she will have a great relationship with Ron. There's nothing complex or deep about it, really. No personal weird-thing, no psychological complex, no internalized misogyny. There's nothing deeper than what I said. I am not sexist. I am a feminist. I am all for women empowerment. I love women with the fabric of my being. I love Hermione. I think she's amazing. You only become sexist when you ship people with unstable power dynamics, a bully-victim relation or something of the sort. Neither Romione, nor Harmione are sexist. Heck if you paired Neville with Hermione you wouldn't be sexist. And I hate talking about this so much, I can't even tell you. This talk does make it sound like I treat Hermione like an object and I assure you I respect her and I normally won't talk like this unless someone just outright calls me sexist for something that's not sexist. And this is that situation.

4)

in the case of Romione, no one is too good for anyone. Both are amazing people who're heroes and have done amazing work. That's all I have to say. There's no league, they are romantically interested in each other. I have no intention on sounding lame, but, in love there is no league. As long as you're not putting in any effort and are extremely lazy and leech off of your partner, there is no such concept and no, Hermione is not "too good" for him. Unless of course you're talking about movie Hermione, who is too good for anyone.

5) (halftime!)

oh yes they try to pull this off and wonder why we hate them. Classic. This person likes to sound british, so let's switch up our language, yeah? At least then I won't be out of my element. Let me correct ya, Ron at his best is an amazing, loyal, friendly, brave, strategic hero. There you have it. Ron and 'git' can't be used in the same sentence. Now if you talk about Ron's achievements, I re-iterate you to point two. If it's too much work, here:

1) fights a troll when he's 11

2) is willing to sacrifice himself when he's 11

3) stands up for his friends

4) makes sure Harry feels like he belongs in the family

5) worries about Harry and rescues him from literal jail

6) stands up against Draco rather than by-standing and enabling his behavior

7) tries his level best to make sure Norbert the dragon is in safe hands and carries it out, albeit not in perfection

8) is with Harry every step of the way in his confronting the basilisk

9) sends Harry and Hermione long letters and calls them often to check up on them

10) stands up on a bitten leg to defend his best friend

11) always apologizes for any of his mistakes and is forgiving when others wrong him

12) works his way to join the Quidditch team unlike Draco who most certainly bought his way in

13) destroys at least 2 horcruxes

14) finds out how to defeat a horcrux

15) has an excellent enough memory and observation to notice Harry speaking parseltongue and also using it to his benefit which proves he's resourceful

hey, see, I like Ron and I took the time to copy-paste this instead of asking you to scroll up. And I'm a lot of bad things but I am not lazy. I stick to my deadlines like Hermione. I start my homework in library class and continue it during phys ed the day its given. And I am not exaggerating. Bloody hell, I wish I was. I'm the ceo of deadlines, mate, don't tempt me! So you can see that Ron is much more than just a "nice bloke". And being a "nice bloke" isn't a bad thing either. He's all the things I said: intuitive, strategic, helpful, loyal and on top of that he's also a nice person. Yes, I do see a bit of myself in Ron. I do. I see the insecure side. I waste my time hating myself and criticizing myself and undermining myself, telling me I'm no good. But Ron overcomes that. He inspires me to appreciate myself. Is that a bad thing? Are you going to shame me for having a low self-esteem? Do you want to worsen my low self-esteem and make me feel more like shit?

Now the person who replied to your comment saying, "he isn't a nice bloke most of time.", he is. He is not being nice twice in a span of 7 years. How often do you act rudely or with jealousy? Wasn't Harry yelling at everyone in caps lock in OOTP. Now I don't condemn him for that because he's a fucking hormonal teenager like me and that would make me a hypocrite, but by your logic why don't you condemn him? Or why not condemn Hermione for saying "I only date good Quidditch players" and shoving canaries at Ron's face because someone else kissed him, while she kept using Krum and Cormac to make him jealous. She wasn't being a nice girl, then, was she? Now, once again, i don't dislike her or hold that against her because guess what, mate, I'm a hormonal teenage girl who gets jealous most of the time and would probably react in a similar fashion in the spur of the moment (Not defending her actions here, just putting myself in her shoes.) In short, Ron is a nice bloke MOST OF THE TIME.

6)

It would be misogynistic to think that. The thing is, NO ONE DOES my dear friend! My dear daft friend. I have never heard anyone say that! why are you so hell-bent on portraying us as misogynists when no one ever says that? Stop assuming. Just stop. You are crossing a limit here, aren't you? Yes you are. You cannot say these sort of things. We never said that or believed that, no one ever said this to be a reason to ship Romione. God what is wrong with you? Literally, stop fucking ASSUMING god damn it! Do you want me to assume things about Harmione shippers? Do you want me to go there? Because I will go there! I will go there the moment you tell me to. Just challenge me.

Ron is not a perfect best boi , the reason why so many of us like him is that he's imperfect and tries to become better through the course of time. You are once again assuming and I am once again asking you to stop.

Ron might be an ordinary wizard. He might be poor, sure, but he's a pure-blood and won't face much if he chose not to fight. But he did. He fought. Now I identify with Ron's attitude a fair bit, but I am also likely to spend my day in a library without noticing. People aren't one dimensional. Stop trying to act like you're a psychologist, i know you're not. I don't even think Hermione's overbearing at all! You just insulted someone you're a big fan of. Jesus.

Both Hermione and Ron are strategic, jealous, passionate, feisty, argumentative, intellectual...

that's like 6 similarities. They aren't polar opposites in the slightest. Their differences are just: workaholic, not workaholic. Nerd, not a nerd. Like that's fucking it, man!

8)

being relaxed doesn't make you less independent or driven. A relaxed and levelheaded Hermione will think through things, not be impulsive, not panic etc. She doesn't need Ron. I don't understand your obsession with acting like we ever insinuated that. Then she doesn't need Harry either lol. Stop shipping her with Harry, then or like shut the fuck up. Being a bit relaxed won't stop her or anyone from hitting great strides. Just don't get relaxed to the point you're lazy and casual about everything, that's it.

9)

What do you mean? Ron is balanced. He does finish his work on time. And even if he does procrastinate, she could also help him not and be more driven. Of course, this is an open invitation for you to call me a sexist bitch because I said that she could help him and now you'll think her goal is to help him become better yada yada yada. Fuck off. Defeating the horcrux taught him enough. He respected her. He remembered about the elves when she didn't. He begged to be tortured instead of her. He wouldn't need it because school work and jobs are different and the same person might perceive those differently. Calmness and relaxation doesn't hinder your potential. Not caring and laziness does. You can't function if you work and are stressed 24/7 with zero breaks. Period.

10)

No i do not want (nor does anyone want) Hermione to become Ron. Being slightly calmer doesn't change up your personality. I'm sure many people dislike those sort of fanfics without a doubt. I hate OOC and I don't want Hermione to lose her intellect with Ron because that makes no sense. Ron himself is intellectual and loves arguing with her. They'd boost each other, more like it.

-------

okay thats it i am exhausted as fuck. thanks for reading, i appreciate it. notes and reblogs are appreciated, this takes work.

[nicknellie]

@millie-andrews-rose requested: Alex gets put with a bully on a paired project, so Willie goes with him when they work on it to help him stay calm. Willie and the boy bond over skateboarding and Alex gets jealous, causing an argument between them. The boy then apologises to Alex for being so awful. Alex and Willie make up and it ends with their first “I love you”s. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and I absolutely love it. I really hope I’ve done you proud, especially since this was such a great prompt! Thanks!

And It’s Not My Fault

Alex adored projects. He loved having something big to focus on, a goal to work towards, something to keep him preoccupied. Any big time-consuming task was a lot of fun for him whether it was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle or work for school worth a large part of his grade. There was, however, a single word that could be placed before the ‘project’ that would instantly transform it from Alex’s dream to his worst nightmare.

The word wasn’t ‘group’ as it would be for a lot of people. Alex liked group projects almost as much as he liked solo projects. Group projects were what he did with Julie, Luke, and Reggie almost every day, jamming in the studio and working towards having a complete set list in time for an upcoming gig. Group projects were what he occasionally did with Carrie and the girls of Dirty Candi when he would assist them with some choreography. Group projects were even tolerable with people Alex didn’t know well because he knew how they were supposed to work and usually he could convince everyone to do their fair share. So group projects were fine.

The word the ruined any chance of Alex having fun was ‘paired’.

Paired projects were the worst type of project. They always spelled trouble and Alex had never got a decent grade on one in his whole school career. It never felt like his fault, but when he thought about it he was the common denominator in every nightmare paired project scenario, so he had long ago decided that there must be something about paired projects that he was simply doing wrong.

Maybe it was that he wasn’t good one-on-one. Alex had always functioned better in groups (albeit small ones that couldn’t be overwhelming) and being face to face with just one person could be stressful. It was fine if it was a friend, and more than fine if it was his boyfriend, but when alone with a stranger Alex found himself running out of things to say and having nowhere to turn when the awkward silences set in. Or if he didn’t run out of things to say he would eventually say the wrong thing and that would start an entirely new alarm bell ringing in his mind as he panicked about accidentally being offensive. Overall, conversations without his emotional support band could be frustrating at best and somewhat dangerous at worst.

Perhaps it was true that Alex was the link in all these situations, but what he had always failed to consider was the fact that he had never been paired in a project with somebody who was actually willing to try and do well, which perhaps was a more prominent reason he’d never received a decent grade.

Alex had been having a good day. He was feeling bright for no reason in particular – needlessly optimistic days like this were his favourite, even though they usually were followed by needlessly pessimistic days as all those bad feelings caught up with him at once. Still, by now Alex had learnt to clutch that senseless joy while it was there and relish it before it was gone.

The joy was gone by noon.

“Alright, class,” Ms Osbourne said, clapping her hands to gain the class’s attention.

Alex hated his English classes. While he was good at English and rather enjoyed the subject itself, his class was rowdy and unruly and made it difficult to concentrate, while Ms Osbourne was a teacher so strict that if someone so much as thought about breaking a rule she would be able to sniff it out like a dog – but her bark was worse than her bite, and while she would shout an unnatural amount she rarely doled out punishments. The combination made for a lesson that was purely people shouting and no work being done.

The class quieted to a steady hum of chatter which was usually as silent as Ms Osbourne could get it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and continued. “Seeing as the end of the semester is coming up, I’m going to be setting you a project that will be worth forty percent of your grade. Essentially, it’s your final exam on our study of Macbeth.”

Alex perked up a little. He had been assigned projects for a lot of classes, but English projects were always the most enjoyable – they involved a lot of writing, which most people hated, but Alex found therapeutic; the only downside was that the source material was usually dreadfully dull. Still, Alex suddenly found himself looking forward to it.

And then she had to go and ruin it.

“I will tell you your assigned partners at the end of the lesson.”

Alex felt himself deflate and heaved a sigh. It had been too good to be true. Now he was going to be stuck on some boring project with a random student from his awful English class because he had no friends in this lesson and it was going to be horrible. It was all he could do to not let his head fall onto the table and scream in furious defeat.

It was on his mind all lesson. Who he was going to be with, what specific things the project would be on, how he could get out of it. His mind was buzzing with questions, building up energy that released itself by making his leg bounce up and down. Several times he found himself tapping out a rhythm on the table like it was his drumkit, his bouncing leg acting as if it was pounding the bass drum, and he had to force himself to stop and actually pay attention to the lesson.

The end came painfully slowly. The school bell rang and most of the students were up out of their seats immediately, ready to leave.

“Hang on,” Ms Osbourne yelled. “Everyone sit back down! I need to tell you your partners for the upcoming project.”

Alex listened attentively as she reeled off a list of names. Most people let out an annoyed groan when they found out they weren’t with a friend, and there was the occasional excited, “Yay!”

Alex knew he wouldn’t be one of the ones celebrating.

“Alex Mercer,” Ms Osbourne said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her tiny nose. “Your partner is Harry Reynolds.”

“Oh god,” Alex murmured. He felt his stomach squirm just as somebody kicked the back of his chair so hard that he jolted forward and nearly whacked his face on the table. The person laughed a moment later, obnoxiously loud, begging for retaliation – Alex didn’t dare turn around to look at them.

He knew already that it was Harry Reynolds sat behind him who had kicked his chair. His project partner, and possibly the worst person in the class that it could have been. For reasons unknown to Alex, Harry had always had it out for him. In middle school he had pushed Alex down a flight of stairs and he had landed unceremoniously in a trash can – Harry had started calling him Bin Boy and the nickname had stuck for a year afterwards; Harry was the only one who used it anymore though. Since then, Harry had just been a general jerk towards him, and upon hearing that they were going to be partners, Alex’s whole body told him to run.

Run where? Alex thought. This wasn’t a problem he could run from. Besides, Harry could probably run faster.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Bin Boy,” came Harry’s voice from behind. “I’m sure we’ll have loads of fun.”

Ms Osbourne finally finished listing pairs and then announced, “These partners are non-negotiable. I will not indulge any requests to switch for any reason. Life isn’t fair, sometimes we have to work with people we don’t like. Get used to it. Now go on, you’re already late for your next class.”

Alex wasn’t usually one to ignore instructions, but as the rest of the class filed out into the hallway he remained behind. He didn’t know what he was planning to say to Ms Osbourne, but he desperately needed to find a way out of the project, or at least switch partners.

“Go on, Alex,” Ms Osbourne said, “you’re going to be late.”

He swallowed thickly and said, “Miss, I was just wondering about the proj–”

“You’re not swapping partners,” she returned sternly. “I’ve already said this. I won’t make any allowances.”

“But, Miss, I can’t work with him,” Alex protested. She raised her eyebrows and started walking around the room, putting sheets on each table for her next class. Alex followed her as she went. “He hates me! It’s going to be awful.”

“Well, maybe the two of you can use this as a way to bond and get to know each other better, hm?”

“Miss, please,” Alex said, his desperation finally rearing its ugly head in his voice. He could feel his legs shaking and his hands wringing themselves together and his head tingling in a way he couldn’t describe, and finally he broke. “He has it out for me and I don’t even know why! He’s been awful to me ever since we were kids, he tries to pick fights with me, he calls me names. Last year he chased me around the field with a baseball bat for a whole PE lesson! If I have to work with him I’ll just end up panicking – or dead, that’s also a possibility – and the project will go terribly and I’ll fail the class. Please can I just work by myself?”

Ms Osbourne’s expression softened as she look at Alex over her glasses. For a moment, Alex’s hopes were raised just that tiny bit – maybe he had got through to her, maybe she would see sense.

But then her face turned to stone again.

“No,” she spat. “What you can do is figure out with Harry when the two of you are going to work on this project and how you’re going to go about it. And you can get to your next class.” She turned away with a cold air of finality. Alex could have sworn he actually felt chills.

Without a word, Alex heaved his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out of the classroom, crushed and dejected. He stared down at his feet as he walked and tried not to think about what the next few weeks could have in store for him.

Lunch couldn’t have come sooner. After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally made his way down to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. If there was any one thing that was guaranteed to cheer Alex up when he was in a bad mood, it was the good company of his band and his boyfriend.

The rest of the group was already sat at their usual table when Alex arrived in the cafeteria; just seeing them laughing and joking together put the tiniest hint of a smile of his face. He headed over to them, but was stopped in his tracks by somebody stood in front of him – it was Harry Reynolds.

The boy had his arms crossed over his massive chest and was leering down at Alex with an expression of disgust. Alex tried to look past him at his friends, to get their attention, to ask for help, but they hadn’t seen him. Instead, he forced himself to look up into Harry’s brutish face and try not to squirm.

“Partners, huh?” Harry grunted. “I’m failing English so you’ll need to get us a good grade.”

“That’s the plan,” Alex said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t that he was too frightened or intimidated by Harry, it was just the fact that he really didn’t feel like getting chucked in a bin today. One wrong move and he could consider that a real possibility.

“Be at my place on Saturday at one. Bring all your notes – I don’t have any.”

“I can’t do Saturday,” Alex told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have band practise.”

Harry took a step closer. Alex couldn’t move back – his feet were rooted to the spot. “You think I care about your dopey little band practise? You’ll be there. That’s that.”

Alex swallowed, nodded hurriedly, and finally forced himself to take a step back so that he wasn’t chest to chest with Harry. “I’ll be there,” he echoed, still nodding.

Harry snarled, condescendingly patted Alex on the head, and walked off. Alex took a moment to collect himself, to breathe, to remind himself that he was okay and he wasn’t hurt, that Harry hadn’t done anything. He steadied himself and kept walking towards his friends, trying to mask the worry on his face.

Of course, he failed miserably.

The moment Alex sat down in his usual space between Willie and Luke, Willie took his hand, watching him with concern. “Hey,” Willie said gently, “what’s up?”

Julie, Luke, and Reggie immediately stopped their conversation, turning to face Alex and Willie. Alex hated the way they were looking at him, like he’d break if they dropped him, but it wasn’t like he could ask them to stop caring – instead, he looked at each of them, trying and failing to give them a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“Nothing,” Alex said, “nothing, it’s just… just this project for English.”

Luke sighed dramatically. “Has your class got that stupid Shakespeare assignment too? I get it, bro, it’s totally pointless–”

“No,” Alex interrupted quietly. “No, that’s not it. Well, kind of. Yeah, we’ve got the Shakespeare assignment but that’s not… not the problem.”

“What is it?” Willie prompted gently when Alex didn’t continue.

Alex shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

Julie leaned over the table and grasped Alex’s other hand. “Alex, your feelings are not stupid.”

She smiled warmly. Funny things happened when Julie smiled – when she did it to Luke, it wasn’t uncommon for him to literally trip over himself; when she did it to Reggie, it made him smile in return for hours on end; and when she did it to Alex, it gave him such overwhelming confidence that for a moment or two he could truly do anything.

“It’s just that we were assigned partners and I got stuck with Harry Reynolds,” he admitted, clutching Willie and Julie’s hands tighter. “It’s nothing and I shouldn’t be worried but–”

“It’s not nothing,” Willie said. Alex couldn’t quite read his expression – it looked to be something between sympathy and outrage. “That guy is the worst. Did you talk to your teacher about it?”

Alex nodded gravely. “She wouldn’t let me switch.”

“How much did you tell her?” Willie asked.

“What I thought would have been enough,” he replied, shrugging like it was nothing. “But it wasn’t.”

“She should be fired for that,” Reggie interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “I’m just saying – if by ‘enough’ you mean that you told her what a jerk he’s been to you then she should follow that up and treat it like an issue instead of making you work with him.”

What would have been wise words were ruined slightly by the fact that Reggie spoke them around a mouthful of pizza.

“Reggie’s right,” Julie said, “she’s definitely in the wrong here.”

“I know that,” Alex told them, because he did, that much was obvious. “But it’s a little late for that now. I’m stuck with him.”

Willie clutched his hand tighter, threaded their fingers together. Alex leaned to the side, rested his head on Willie’s shoulder. Julie let go of his hand and Willie immediately picked it up – he smiled a little at both of them.

“I know saying it’s all going to be okay won’t help,” Willie whispered to him, “but you’ve got to try and believe that it will. And if it isn’t, I am just one call away. If you need anything – I mean anything – you call me and I will be there. Okay?”

Alex’s tense muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he muttered back. “That’s okay.”

Willie kissed the top of his head and a fraction of Alex’s anxiety lifted. Willie would be there when he needed him no matter what. That was something he could always count on.

*

Luke hadn’t been happy when Alex had called him early on Saturday morning to tell him he wouldn’t be coming to band practise that day. He had given Alex a half-hour-long earful about how they had a gig coming up in a few days’ time and they needed to be rehearsing like crazy. It hadn’t been pleasant for Alex in the slightest, but at least it had been a welcome distraction from the other thing on his mind, the reason he had had to cancel band practise in the first place.

It was the day he was supposed to go to Harry’s house to work on their project. Alex had hardly slept the night before – he had lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to empty his mind and relax, but sleep just wouldn’t come. At half past two he had crept downstairs and made a batch of brownies using a recipe of his grandmother’s. At the time he’d thought that maybe he could use them to placate Harry once he got to his house, but he’d accidentally ended up stress-eating the entire batch instead.

He felt sick, but couldn’t tell if it was the brownies or the anxiety. Probably an unhealthy mix of both, he decided.

But he had passed the first hurdle and he told himself to be proud of that – he had arrived outside Harry’s house. It was a small bungalow on a road that led nowhere and Alex was struck by how normal it looked. It didn’t look like the sort of place somebody like Harry Reynolds should have lived; Harry was larger than life, tall and brooding, moody and mean – this house looked as if its occupants sold flowers and rescued kittens in their spare time.

Despite the outward appearances of the house, Alex was almost certain that he was in the right place. The front window seemed to show Harry’s bedroom because through it Alex could see innumerable trophies, all for different sporting events; a large stack of magazines (Alex was sure he could already guess what each contained); and a small enclosure that looked to Alex unbearably similar to a tank that might house a snake or a spider or any other creature that Alex would have preferred stayed thousands of miles away from him where it belonged.

He could not make himself walk into the house.

He had been trying for almost fifteen minutes and had walked past the house almost thirty times. He had counted his steps and was somewhere near eight thousand. His mind was racing, shooting through a hundred anxieties before Alex had the chance to dwell on any of them – maybe that was for the best. But it didn’t help the fact that he could not force his legs to walk in the direction of the door.

The worries stopping him weren’t even big ones like ‘What if he tries to hurt me?’ which Alex stressed over every time he interacted with Harry. It was the little things and the impossible things pricking the back of his mind like needles: What if he doesn’t answer the door? What if nobody’s home? What if I’m at the wrong house? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I got the wrong day? What if I got the wrong time? What if he’s not actually my project partner? What if… What if… What if…

What if I call Willie?

Alex blessed his brain for having its first sensible thought that day. He fished his phone out his pocket and called Willie, who picked up after one ring.

“Hey,” Willie said, “what’s up, hotdog?”

“I, um… I’m at Harry’s house. I can’t go inside.”

“Why not?” Willie asked. “Is the door locked? Are they out?”

Alex shook his head although Willie couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think so. It’s just… I… I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Willie asked patiently.

“I can’t go inside,” Alex repeated. With his free hand, he tugged at the strap of his fanny pack, fiddling with the buckle where it lay over his chest. “I can’t go up to the door. I’ve been trying for, like, twenty minutes and every time I try my head starts buzzing and my legs go numb and I’m starting to feel really sick now because I ate an entire batch of brownies meant for at least ten people and I can’t do this–”

“Okay,” Willie interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe, Alex. Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Breathe in for four and out for six. Come on, hotdog, you’ve got this.”

Alex did as he said, taking great shuddering breaths of bitter air and releasing them slowly. Willie kept talking him through it, slowly, softly, kindly, and after about ten minutes Alex felt refreshed. Not necessarily worry-free, but his mind had cleared a little bit.

“Okay,” Willie said. “That was great, well done. Can you give me this guy’s address?”

Alex gave it to him.

“Luckily for you, that’s just down the road from where I am right now,” Willie said, chipper. Alex could hear the smile in his voice and it almost made him smile himself. Almost. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll go inside with you, if that’s what you want?”

Alex breathed a haggard, relieved sigh. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind. Thank you, Willie.”

Willie gave a small chuckle. “Any time, hotdog. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll see you in a minute.”

And he hung up.

Alex waited, still doing his breathing exercises, but didn’t need to wait long. Hardly five minutes later, Willie rolled up (literally – he was on his skateboard) and gave him a bright smile. Alex didn’t hesitate before lurching forward and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Willie,” he whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

Willie’s response was simply to hug him tighter.

Together, hands clasped tightly between them, Willie with his board tucked under his arm, they made their way up to the bungalow’s front door. Alex swallowed, steeled himself, and then firmly knocked on the door. When nobody answered it in the first five seconds, Alex told Willie, “This is a bad idea,” and tried to turn away to leave.

However, Willie just pulled him back and a moment later the door opened. On the threshold of the house was Harry, staring down at Alex and Willie. Something about him wasn’t quite as nightmarish as it was at school, yet at the same time Alex was much more afraid. He held Willie’s hand tighter.

Harry nodded in Willie’s direction. “Who’s this, Bin Boy? You brought your boyfriend?”

“Actually, yeah,” Willie said, speaking for Alex. He was glad – his throat felt thick and he didn’t think he could have summoned up any words if he tried. “I’m Willie. I’ve heard about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”

“Just a few things,” Willie said nonchalantly. “Nothing important. Anyway, I was in the neighbourhood and Alex and I are set to hang out when he’s done here anyway so I thought I’d come along. Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine,” Harry returned with a shrug. Then his eyes landed on something and his entire expression changed. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry look like this before. Could it have been what he thought it was: excitement? “Bro! You skate?”

Willie lifted his board half-heartedly. “This isn’t just for decoration.”

Harry grinned, clapping Willie on the shoulder so hard that his hand dropped from Alex’s. “Dude, that’s sick, I do too. Come on, get inside, man.”

Harry headed back into the house and Willie followed him. Alex took a moment to wonder what the hell that had been, then took a deep breath and hurried after them. When he caught up with Willie he grabbed his hand again. Willie just smiled bemusedly up at him.

Harry led them to his bedroom and beckoned them towards his desk.

“Come look at this,” Harry said. “I had a photo taken with Tony Hawk last year!”

Alex perched himself right on the edge of the bed awkwardly as Willie went over to inspect the framed photo.

“Are you sure that’s Tony Hawk?” Willie asked. “Doesn’t look like him.”

Harry shook his head. “You’ve got to imagine he’s holding a skateboard, then you’ll see it.”

Alex watched Willie squint at the photo for a moment or two longer, then he gasped and, to Alex’s horror, began to smile. “Oh, wait… yeah, kinda. That’s awesome, dude!”

“Yeah! Anyway, how long have you been skating for?”

As Willie answered, Alex zoned out of the conversation. Ordinarily, he loved listening to Willie talk about skating – he lit up whenever he explained a new trick he’d learnt, and seeing him flush with pride after he demonstrated it perfectly to Alex always made him feel giddy – but it just wasn’t the same listening to him chat with Harry Reynolds of all people. Alex didn’t even know who that Tony Hawk guy was and it didn’t seem like anyone was about to bother explaining it to him. He would never have admitted it, but listening to Willie talk to Harry was almost annoying.

He busied himself by looking around the room, getting a glimpse at what the real Harry Reynolds was like. At school, Harry was the classic, early-2000s movie jock, on every sports team the school had to offer, constantly bragging about his luck with girls, and picking on people smaller than him (which, because Harry was built like a tree trunk, was pretty much everyone). His room reflected it too; there were even more trophies than Alex had seen through the window, most for football or, unexpectedly, karate, and the walls were plastered in posters displaying buff men and weirdly specific motivational quotes. Only now did Alex notice the skateboards stuck on the wall and the stack of helmets by his bed, as well as several skating posters directly above them.

He turned back to Willie and Harry just in time to hear Willie laugh. Properly laugh, loud and genuine. Willie only laughed like that with his friends and it hearing it in Harry’s room stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to smile.

Willie waved him off. “Don’t worry, hotdog, just a skating joke.”

Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Pretty freaking funny though.”

“Oh,” Alex said. He tried for a laugh but it was the least genuine noise he had ever made – judging by the look Harry sent him, it had been obvious how fake it was to him too. Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we get on with our work? We’re already running behind schedule.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Bin Boy, we’re having a conversation here. You start if you want, I’ll join you whenever.”

Alex sent a look to Willie, eyes wide and pleading. Willie frowned, looking conflicted, but then shrugged.

Willie and Alex didn’t fight often, but Alex wouldn’t have minded giving Willie a piece of his mind right then and there.

He didn’t though. He sighed, shuffled back on the bed so that he could have more room and lean on the mattress, and he started working on the project. It wasn’t too difficult, just an analysis on the themes of Macbeth, something they had gone over in class a hundred times; still, Alex would have appreciated some help, seeing as this was a paired project and he didn’t exactly want to do the whole thing alone.

But it was fine. He kept telling himself that it was completely and utterly fine. But every so often Willie or Harry would laugh or suddenly shout, and the abrupt noise would startle Alex. The third time that happened he accidentally jogged his highlighter so it zigzagged all over his painstakingly neat paragraph on King James I. He gripped his pen so hard that the plastic almost cracked, and set about writing the whole thing again on a new piece of paper.

Alex didn’t know how long he had been working for, but he did know that it had been a hell of a long time and Harry still hadn’t made any effort to help him. He had copied up all his notes on the supernatural, women, ambition, and the Great Chain of Being, all the while Harry had sat there with Willie, not doing anything.

The strange thing was, Alex found himself more angry at Willie than he was at Harry.

Eventually, he checked the time, his hand aching. It was almost five o’clock, which meant he had been working alone for about four hours solidly. He had done pretty much half of the project in that time and was nearing his breaking point – he thought that if he left now he could catch the tail end of band practise and take his frustration out on his drumkit.

Gathering his notes and all his work, Alex said, “I’m going to head out.”

Willie checked the clock on Harry’s desk and then set about clipping his helmet on. “Yeah, we should get going. This was fun, though, man. It was nice to talk to a fellow skater for once.”

“I hear you, dude,” Harry returned. They fist-bumped and Alex physically cringed. “Catch you later.”

Alex didn’t say goodbye, just saw himself out. He didn’t wait for Willie. He simply walked, trying to get out of the house and as far away as possible in as little time as he could. Alex could hear Willie shouting for him to wait up but he didn’t stop.

He felt Willie grab his hand and pull him to a halt, but pulled his hand from Willie’s grasp.

“What’s up with you?” Willie asked, seeming truly bewildered. “I thought that was alright back there, it was relaxed, not stressful. Are you still feeling anxious?”

Alex didn’t answer his question and instead he said with much more venom than he had intended, “What the hell was that?”

Willie looked taken aback. Alex almost felt bad. Almost.

“What was what?”

“In there!” Alex yelled, pointing in the direction of Harry’s house. “You talking to him like you’re best friends! That guy is a jerk, you know that, Willie, so why were you laughing and joking with him as if he’s the nicest guy in the world?”

Willie didn’t look impressed. “Sorry, I was under the impression you wanted me there. I was talking to him to distract from you. That’s what you wanted, right? You were nervous about going so you wanted my help to take the pressure off you. I was helping you, Alex, because that was what you asked me to do!”

“Not like that,” Alex protested. “You weren’t supposed to bond with him, leave me out completely so that I had to do all the work by myself and listen to you two talk about skateboards and… Toby Eagle, or whoever that guy was!”

“It was Tony Hawk. And it’s not my fault that Harry likes skateboarding,” Willie shot back. “It’s also not my fault that I enjoyed talking to someone who shares that interest for once. You listen and you pretend to know what I’m talking about, but it isn’t the same.”

“It didn’t have to be him!”

“Actually, given the circumstances, it did. And like I said – it got the attention off you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

Alex felt his temper rising with each sentence. He never got this upset at Willie, this was a complete first. Sure, they had argued like any couple would, but he had never felt any real anger towards his boyfriend. It frightened him, and that fright stopped him from seeing any sense, taking a step back, calming himself down.

“I didn’t want you to do it like that,” he said, as if it was obvious. It was obvious to Alex – why wasn’t it obvious to Willie?

“I can’t read your mind, Alex,” Willie shouted, pointing at himself. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head!”

“You should know!”

“I don’t! It could be anything! I don’t think you realise that when it comes to you and your anxiety, I’m pretty much flying as blind as you are. Sure, I’ve done my research and I can handle it, but I never know what’s going to trigger you and set you off like earlier today. I may seem prepared, but I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what you’re going to worry about most. It is not my fault that sometimes I might not handle it in the best way. I’m trying my hardest, Alex.”

“You aren’t the one who has to go through the panic attacks and the constant worry, are you?” Alex seethed.

Willie shrugged. “No, I’m not. But I still worry about you all the time because I don’t know what’s going to set you off.”

“It’s not my fault I have anxiety,” Alex yelled.

“I never said it was! But it’s not my fault either – I dropped everything just to come and help you today and all you’re doing is throwing it right back in my face and arguing with me for helping you out! It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!”

Alex froze. Willie did too. The words were out there, they’d been spoken without hesitation. They hung between the two of them like a toxic cloud, as both of them slowly realised the weight those words had held.

Willie broke the silence, reaching out his hand to Alex, trying to bridge that gap between them that had widened impossibly in the last ten seconds. “Alex, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean t–”

Alex stepped back, out of reach from Willie. Willie flinched and he withdrew his hand, instead crossing his arms and rubbing circles by his elbow with his thumb. It was a nervous tick Alex only ever saw when Willie was really stressed out. Normally he would have tried to soothe him, calm him down, but all he could hear were Willie’s words echoing back and forth through his mind.

It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!

Alex schooled his features to careful neutrality, not betraying any emotion. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he wasn’t feeling much at that moment anyway, just a cold detachment.

“I heard you,” Alex said quietly. He couldn’t look Willie in the eye. “I heard exactly what you said. I know what you meant.”

“Then you’ve got to know that I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know what you meant,” he repeated. “I’m going back to band practise. I don’t think you should come and watch today.”

He shook his head and, turning on his heel, walked away. He didn’t hear Willie’s footsteps following him this time.

*

Band practise had helped calm Alex down with a mixture of wrestling his drumkit and talking things out with Julie, Luke, and Reggie. They had all seemed utterly shocked that Willie would say anything like that, but Alex wasn’t so surprised. After all, things like this were what he worried about – being left alone, being disliked by the people he cared for most, being a nuisance, being abandoned. Deep down in the pit of his worst anxieties, he had been worried that something like this could have happened.

He just had never thought it would have come from Willie.

While band helped him calm down, it didn’t help cheer him up. He regretted even bringing the argument up in the first place – if he had ignored his feelings (which Julie had bluntly explained to him were jealousy) then he could have avoided the whole argument. Instead of lying in his cold bed, unable to sleep that night, he could have been curled up with Willie on the couch in the studio, warm and cosy because Willie was like a human radiator.

He knew that neither of them had been fair on each other. He could see Willie’s side of the argument once he had calmed down. But he knew that what he had said was equally valid and he couldn’t get past the scorn in Willie’s voice when he’d said those damning words.

He didn’t hear from Willie all throughout Sunday and didn’t make any moves to contact him himself either. If he did, he had no clue where he would have even begun. Perhaps an apology – but where was he supposed to take the conversation from there?

So Sunday was silent.

Alex was slightly dreading school on Monday, but he wasn’t about to ruin his high grades by not showing up, especially this close to the end of the semester. Grudgingly, he headed to school and went straight to his first lesson, which just so happened to be the lesson from Hell: English.

He arrived there before the rest of the class, including Ms Osbourne, which meant he had time to dwell on his thoughts alone. He probably wasn’t going to fail this class – despite Saturday having been a nightmare, he had managed to get a lot of good work done on the project and it would be of a very high quality when he finally got it finished. But he still had more work to do and he knew that he really ought to do it with Harry. Absently, he pondered whether or not to bring Willie next time he needed to go to Harry’s house.

Talk of the devil, Alex thought as the classroom door swung open and none other than Harry himself sauntered in. He looked at Alex sat there alone, the only other person in the room, and grunted, coming to sit beside him.

Alex didn’t have the energy to be scared of Harry Reynolds today.

“I’ve been looking for you, Mercer,” Harry said conversationally.

“Oh, joy,” Alex deadpanned. Harry looked surprised, probably because Alex wasn’t cowering in fear, but he shrugged it off.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. “I just wanted to say that your boyfriend, that Willie guy, he’s really cool. I mean, the way he was talking about skating the other day – I don’t know if you realise it, man, but he has a real shot at going pro.”

“I know,” Alex spat. “He’s my boyfriend, of course I know. Maybe I don’t skate but I still listen to him. And I know him better than you do.”

Harry held up a hand. “Woah, calm down, Bin B– uh. Alex. I’m just trying to say the guy is really cool and you’re really lucky to have him. And also… talking to him the other day, he said– well, you weren’t listening, were you?”

Alex shook his head.

“We did stop talking about skating at some point, you know,” Harry told him. “Willie was telling me how awesome you are and, you know, explaining why he likes you so much. And I guess it made me realise that I’ve kind of been a jerk to you for a long time – I mean, he literally told me so. He told me to stop being such a douchebag to you.”

Alex grunted. “He’s right. You should stop. It sucks.”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to apologise for it, I guess. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. I think it’s just because I was young and dumb and I didn’t realise it was hurting you at first, then it just stuck. I kind of always thought it was friendly too – I didn’t think you minded. I thought it was banter.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex said, meeting his eyes. “It never was. I’m terrified of you, you’ve made my life a misery. Thanks for the apology, but it’s no excuse.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “But I just wanted to explain why. I’m going to try my best to be a better guy from now on. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done in the past, but can you give me a chance to get this right?”

Alex considered. Somehow, Harry seemed completely serious. His expression was slightly pleading and he looked a little awkward and uncomfortable to be asking this of Alex, but it seemed real.

So he nodded.

“Fine. Thank you.”

Harry clapped him on the back. “No worries, dude. And, uh… this might not be my place to ask, but are you okay? You look down.”

Alex shrugged. “I had an argument with Willie after we left your place the other day. I’ve not spoken to him since.”

“Was it my fault?” Harry asked.

“Kinda,” Alex told him, shrugging again. “I just… I didn’t like how friendly you two seemed. After everything you’ve done to me in the past, watching him get along with you like it was nothing made me a little mad.”

“Sorry, bro,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not into him or anything, so you’ve got nothing to worry about there – plus, he’s crazy about you, so even if someone else did like him they’d be out of luck. I just wanted to talk with someone about skating for once, none of my friends are into it.”

“Willie said the same thing,” Alex admitted.

Harry nodded awkwardly. “I don’t have any say in your relationship, but honestly I’m kind of invested in it now and I think you guys should talk it out. I’d hate to think I played some part if you ended up breaking up over this.”

“I don’t want to break up with him,” Alex objected, horrified. The thought of breaking up with Willie, losing him forever, made him feel sick to the stomach.

The rest of the class began filing into the classroom. Harry stood up, shrugged, and then clapped Alex on the shoulder.

“Go talk to him, then.”

*

Alex, for the first time in his life, took the advice Harry had given him and decided to take that first, absolutely terrifying step towards fixing the break between himself and Willie. If he knew his boyfriend (and he did) then Willie would have gone to the skatepark straight after school, so that was where Alex headed too.

Sure enough, Alex found Willie at the skatepark, sat at the top of the highest ramp. Every now and then, someone on a board would do a trick nail-bitingly close to Willie’s face, but he didn’t flinch even once. He was staring off into the peachy sunset, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Alex climbed up there and sat himself down next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked uneasily.

Willie startled and turned to Alex, caught unawares. “Alex! I thought you–”

Willie didn’t get to finish his sentence because Alex pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing, fierce hug, pouring every last ounce of love and regret into it. He felt Willie hug back with equal force and buried his face into Willie’s long hair. This, he knew, was how it was supposed to be – Alex and Willie, boyfriends who care far too much about each other, not Alex and Willie, boyfriends on the edge of a break-up.

Eventually, Alex withdrew himself and let Willie go mostly, still keeping a tight clutch on his upper arms.

“I am so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry for everything I said and for starting the argument and for everything that happened that day.”

Willie shook his head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I should have realised how talking to Harry like that would have made you feel. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have said such hurtful things to you, and–”

“I get it,” Alex said breezily, “I’m a lot to deal with.”

Desperately, Willie said, “But that’s not what I meant! I can’t explain what I was trying to say, but I wouldn’t change anything about you or our relationship for the world. You mean the everything to me, Alex, and I never want to do something to jeopardise what we have ever again. I’d do anything to take back what I said to you that day.”

Alex pulled him back into the hug, needing to be close to him. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And Harry. But we’ve all apologised now, even him, so we can put this whole thing behind us.”

Willie pulled back, surprised. “He apologised?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “Because of you. He said you were going on about how amazing I am and he realised he’d been a jerk.”

Willie blushed the tiniest bit, and playfully punched Alex’s arm. “Well, you are amazing. You’re more than amazing. You’re a miracle and I’m lucky to have you.”

Smiling, Alex cupped Willie’s cheek and gently pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, slow, and Alex felt like they were glowing, bright and warm and happy. They kissed until every unspoken word had been said, until the last of the orange sunset had ebbed away into night-time blue, until streetlights cast an amber glow across the skatepark, in which they were the only ones left. Alex felt like he was finally at peace, with himself and with Willie.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against Willie’s. “I’m lucky to have you too. I can’t even begin to understand what good luck brought you to me.”

Willie moved back slightly, shuffled further away until he was only holding Alex’s hands, until that was the only point where they touched. Alex missed his warmth.

“Sorry,” Willie giggled, smile bright. “I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes for this.”

“For what?” Alex asked.

Willie’s smile softened. “I love you, Alex. And I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Alex’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever heard those words out loud. Sure, he had felt them in every little action from Willie in all the time they’d been together – he had felt his love in the way he cared for him when he was sick, in the way he bundled himself up in Alex’s hoodies, in the way he played with Alex’s hair, in the way he brought him back from the edge when he was anxious, in the way he devoted every part of himself to Alex.

He had loved Willie in return too, in the little ways – how he listened to Willie talk about skating and watched him practise, how he brushed and braided Willie’s hair to relax them both, how he danced with Willie whenever he wanted because he simply couldn’t say no, how he wrote songs that only Willie would ever hear, how he listened to Willie talk nonsense in his sleep on those nights they slept at the studio together.

But he too had never said the words out loud.

He pulled Willie in for another kiss, brief but burning, and then held his hands again. Willie was right – this was something Alex wanted to look in his eyes for.

“I love you, too, Willie. I’ll never stop.”

[exhaustedfander]

Of Birthday Cakes and Sentimentality

Here’s a fluffy (Slightly late) birthday fic for Logan, featuring Loceit! @coconut-cluster ‘s is wonderful loceit uni au content was really what got me into the ship in the first place.

a03 

word count: 1,755

Logan wakes slowly, the sunlight filtering in through the blinds casting stripes of shadow on the carpet. He glances to his side, vision blurry without his glasses, and frowns. The spot beside him is upsettingly empty. He feels along the sheet, realizing they’ve long since gone cold.

Logan reaches for his glasses on the bedside table, slipping them on and checking the time. 8:00 a.m. Curious. That’s far earlier than Janus is usually up on a Saturday.

His boyfriend is a firm believer that cuddling into the late morning should absolutely be considered self-care, and really, Logan isn’t one to challenge that notion. He might put up a fight from time-to-time, but it’s all for show and Janus knows as much. Logan can pretend he’s above cuddling all he wants, but as his boyfriend would say, he’s a dreadful liar.

Logan wonders what might’ve compelled Janus to rouse from his slumber so much earlier than usual, before noticing a sweet smell wafting through the apartment. This only raises more questions. What could Janus be making at this time of day that would smell so saccharine?

Logan rises from bed slowly, still bleary and comforted by the warmth of the duvet around him – but certainly missing the feeling of Janus against him. The hardwood is cool beneath his feet as he stands, the scent of baked-goods – yes, that’s definitely it – drifting through the air gaining in strength.

He glances at the mirror hanging on their bedroom wall, his hair a fright and pajamas still on, and Logan realizes he doesn’t care. It isn’t usually odd for someone to be comfortable not looking entirely presentable in their own home, but this is Logan, a man who practically lives in polos and neckties. He’s been told more than a few times by several people that he could stand to “loosen up.” While he’s not always the best at it, Logan can certainly try; it is his birthday, after all.

Oh. Wait – it’s his birthday. He’d completely forgotten. Likely, Janus remembered, though. And with the sweet smell coming from the other room, and the day of the year, that must mean…

Logan opens the door to look out across their open living and kitchen area to see Janus standing at a kitchen counter smeared with flour, a jar of crofters, and an array of baking ingredients around him.

Janus has never been one to bake, as far as Logan’s concerned. It’s not that he isn’t proficient in cooking, it’s just never been something he’s seemed particularly invested in. But here Janus stands, in his pajamas opening the oven and pulling out circular bakeware Logan’s certain they don’t own. The smell of vanilla is now detectable, and Logan can’t stop the smile from slipping onto his face.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying not to break Janus’s fragile concentration.  

A spoon clatters against the ground, Janus all but shrieking as he turns around to face Logan. Concentration be damned, it seems.

“You weren’t supposed to be awake yet!” Janus huffs, bending down to retrieve the spoon, dropping it in the sink.

“I wasn’t aware I was meant to be confined to our bed until you said otherwise,” Logan responds sarcastically, walking up to Janus.

Getting a better look at him now, Logan can see there’s flour smeared on his yellow pajama shirt and pants, their small kitchen rather cluttered. Just a few years ago, Logan would’ve sworn against sentimentality. He’s a man of logic, a man of intellect and focus. And yet… his time with Janus has worn down that stubborn belief that romanticism and he are separate beings.

Janus is a lot of things. Passionate, driven, cunning, affectionate to a point that Logan thought he’d never tolerate, nor grow to love. But right now he’s also making Logan a birthday cake at eight in the morning and Logan can’t help but feel the emotion well up inside of him.

“Happy birthday,” Janus says, moving to embrace him before remembering the mess he is. “I’d kiss you senseless, but –,” he gestures vaguely to himself. Logan shakes his head, the stubborn smile on his face refusing to leave.

“I don’t care,” Logan says, leaning down to connect his lips with Janus’s, his hands cupping either side of his face, thumb tracing along the faded scar on Janus’s left cheek. Janus sighs into the kiss, his hands settling on Logan’s waist. The two pull close to one another. The taste of vanilla mingles on Logan’s tongue, and he can’t help the laugh that bursts from him. Janus pulls away, eyebrows raised.

“What’re you laughing about?”

“Nothing,” Logan says, trying to bite back the laughter, and failing quite miserably, “It’s just – you taste sweet.”

“Well,” Janus says, tone matter-of-fact, “I needed to taste-test the batter, didn’t I? And, this way, you know your cake isn’t poisoned.”

“Ah, true. Unless, of course, you’ve developed an immunity to whatever you’ve poisoned me with.”

“Guess it’ll be a surprise then,” Janus says teasingly, before returning to finishing the cake.

“You really didn’t need to go to so much trouble, darling,” Logan says, watching as Janus stirs a bowl of white frosting that he must’ve been fiddling with a moment ago.

“It’s a cake, Logan. You act as if I’ve been slaving away. It’s the least I can do.”

“Yes, well, you woke up early. On a Saturday. And you’re baking… I don’t believe we own any bakeware.”

“I’m perfectly content with waking up a little early on your birthday,” Janus says pointedly, eyes fixed on the frosting he’s creaming. “And no, we do not own any bakeware. But Patton does, and I asked him to lend me it.”

“Janus –.”

“And, I had him explain the steps in great detail over the phone, as to not royally screw this up. I know I’m not always a master in the kitchen.”  

“I never said anything about your cooking skills,” Logan interjects. “Seriously, love. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Janus says with so much sincerity, Logan wonders if his heart might burst. “I’ll have you know, it’s a crofters filling.” Logan’s eyes light up at that.

“Well, that… does sound quite good.”

“Oh, does it now?” Janus asks teasingly, holding an icing-covered spoon to Logan’s mouth. “Taste this and tell me if you like it.” Logan obliges, sticking the spoon in his mouth and humming around it. Janus chuckles.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s delicious,” Logan says, moving to take another spoonful before Janus pulls the bowl from his reach.

“How about we save some for the actual cake, hm?”

“I suppose…”

“Go, on. Sit down,” Janus says, motioning towards the table, “The cake ‘ll be done in a minute.”

“Cake is hardly an appropriate breakfast,” Logan points out, earning a glare from his boyfriend.

“Allow me to remind you for the millionth time this morning, that it is your birthday,” Janus says, spreading the frosting with a knife over the top of the cake. “Cake for breakfast on the day of your birth is absolutely appropriate.” Logan scoffs.

“I can’t see why. There’s hardly anything special about today. It’s merely the anniversary of me being alive another year. I can’t understand why it’s such a big deal.”

“Hardly anything special?” Janus asks, slightly incredulously. “Hardly anything special, he says! Do you realize, that were it not for you being born, we never would’ve met?” Logan’s heart pangs at that.

“Janus.”

“And then where would I be? Who would I debate with into absurd times in the morning? Who would teach me about each and every constellation he knows about, so excited to share his passion? Who would I bully into going to bed at a decent time?” Logan tries to interject, but Janus isn’t having any of it, “Don’t you start. You may preach about circadian rhythm and the importance of going to bed at a decent time, but I’ve found you asleep at your desk far too many times now.”

“In all fairness,” Logan says, trying not to let the sentimentality well up in him, “I’ve also found you asleep on the couch, and at the table late at night a fair few times.”

“Well then, it seems we’re meant to take care of one another,” he says like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. As though it’s not achingly tender.

A slice of cake is slid in front of Logan.

“The point is, I love you. Let me make you a stupid cake, and have our friends over for a movie night,” Logan opens his mouth in protest, but Janus is quicker, “A very casual movie night. Just Patton, Virgil, Roman, and Remus and whatever movie of your choosing. Clue, perhaps?” Logan perks up at the mention of one of his favorite films, and Janus grins.

“Clue would be… nice,” Logan admits. Janus pecks him on the cheek.

“Then that’s what we’ll watch. Now, take a bite, the anticipation is positively killing me,” Janus drawls out dramatically, gesturing to the cake. Obliging, Logan scoops a piece of the cake with his fork, popping it in his mouth.

“Mmm,” is as dignified of a response as Logan cares to give, but Janus looks pleased with himself all the same.

“You like it?” Janus asks, already knowing the answer. Logan nods, grabbing at the collar of Janus’s shirt and pulling him into his lap. “Goodness, what’s gotten into you?”

“You were just giving a rather sappy declaration of love,” Logan explains, pressing his lips to Janus’s. “And, you made me a cake.” Another kiss. “With Crofters.” A kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And you’re having our friends come over for a movie night, for me.” A kiss. “And I love you, so very much, my dear.”

“I love you too,” Janus responds, seemingly happy with his place in Logan’s lap, “But I thought you didn’t care about your birthday?”

“I don’t,” Janus doesn’t believe that for a second, “But you rather seem to. And it’s kind of… nice,” Logan admits, voice soft, “To have you care about something so seemingly silly so much.”

“Oh, you think I care about you? Wherever did you get an idea like that?” Logan chuckles as Janus presses a kiss to his cheek, his face resting in the crook of Logan’s neck.

“I haven’t a clue.”

Logan could pretend he didn’t care about birthdays till the cows came home, but Janus would always call his bluff. And really, Logan can’t find it in himself to complain.

=+=

General Taglist:

@nadiestar

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@bella-in-a-bag

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@harper-mdn 

[snowflake-of-destruction]

let's hear about FFVIII seifer, if you're still doing this XD

Why I like them: You know my tastes. A green-eyed man is introduced throwing fireballs around, is kind of a condescending jerk but in a fun way, instigates deep conversations on high ground while staring at the sunset...Well, before we even get to villainy, immolation, and redemption arc, I start going “Is this a favorite character?”  I’m joking...kind of. Some of that does factor in, even the fire. 

Okay, so my favorite thing about Seifer’s arc is that, in the limited focus he’s given, he’s complex and layered from the beginning, and his villain arc is a clear and fascinating illustration of “No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks” ….with a side of brainwashing.

Let’s break this down:

What are some of the words used to describe him by those that know him (by himself, by Squall, by Fuu and Rai)? Romantic. Idealistic. Sensitive. He is the one who believes in making a difference in the world--not just as a wish or goal, but as an imperative to do what your heart says is right even if it’s going to cost you--where Squall is just follow-the-orders-and-do-the-job. If you’re already reading this and objecting, I’m not saying Squall doesn’t care...obviously he does, defrosting Mr. Go Talk to a Wall and getting him to a place where he admits how many layers of mask he wears is his character development...but Seifer isn’t just a hothead. He wears his heart on his sleeve. 

Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to deny that Seifer can be an abrasive, self-serving, hypocritical jackass sometimes,  who can fight dirty, wants to “wreak some havoc,” and has a history as a bully--though, gentlefolk of the jury, I submit to the courts that he puts on a tough act like Squall does and they are both different flavors of trying to mimic toxic alpha male--but let’s not forget that some of his establishing character moments are throwing out his future to disobey orders because he sees that the higher-ups have possibly misjudged the situation and civilians could be in danger, and, again, going AWOL because he thinks Squall and Rinoa could be killed. And he calls himself the white knight and holds up a code of honor until the end, even though it gets twisted. He is about duty and honor, with honor even over duty.

Oh, this was only going to be the beginning. I haven’t even begun to touch on what I would want to touch on--this is just surface personality and the beginning of the game before we even get to joining Sorceress Edea, and even then not all I would say-- but this post isn’t actually supposed to be my Ted talk on what you missed if you just think of Seifer as a recurring boss fight. Let’s move on.

ONE MORE THING ACTUALLY. Even though we see a lot of Seifer at his worst, you can use Fujin and Raijin as a mirror. What do they say near the end of the game if we paraphrase/summarize? They knew pretty early on, before even the senseless slaughter and torture era that Seifer was going down a dark path with the sorceress, but they knew it wasn’t him and stayed with him, not because they agreed with his actions, wanted power, or out of fear, but to take care of him and try to break through to him--and not because they are saints, but because he, despite what had happened in the past year, is the type of person who deserves and inspires that kind of loyalty. Let’s think on that.

Now the rest goes under a read more, because I am going to keep rambling and be wordy

Why I don’t: He can be an asshole, and he’s an asshole in an embarrassing way. As in, if one is trying to say he’s not the little punk his KH counterpart is, you remember he still uses the insult chickenwuss (though that is a legacy insult/nickname since he’s known Zell since childhood--and, fyi, Squall uses it too) and he had a little gang in school. Even once he’s a military commander of an evil army set on world domination, he has some moments where his level of petty undermines him.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): The Dollet mission

Favorite line: Sorry, not sorry that the following is my favorite exchange of lines and that the prison torture scene is another of my favorite scenes. For context, Seifer has captured Squall, has him hanging up on the wall in crucified hero imagery, implied to be shirtless even though his character model isn’t because they talk about scar tissue or lack thereof from a recent shoulder injury/Squall being stabbed in the chest/shoulder area. Seifer has been electrocuting Squall for information. By this point, I might as well have put the whole scene here. Also, I am now going to blame Squall and Seifer text boxes in FFVIII for my own abuses of ellipses...

Seifer: " I was hoping you'd be there, Squall. So... how'd I look in my moment of triumph? My childhood dream, fulfilled. I've become the sorceress' knight."

Squall: [internal monologue] ...Sorceress' knight... ...His...romantic dream...? But... Seifer... Now, you're just a…[Out loud] "... torturer."

[Squall passes out.]

Seifer: "What did you say? [Steps closer] Passed out cold, eh? This is the scene where you swear your undying hatred for me! The tale of the evil mercenary versus the sorceress' knight!”

This isn’t just me all “mmm, tension.” Seifer has passed the moral event horizon, and it’s not just faceless NPCs that are collateral damage anymore. We’ve seen him on screen torture the protagonist, who is also one of the only people who he’s shown to have a real bond with that goes beyond superficial. Then we get this and see Seifer thinks he’s the good guy still, on a noble mission where he’s had to make painful sacrifices, and Squall is a representative of the power-hungry evil. Seifer’s been playing a different game, and had his will twisted via magic.

Favorite outfit: The Amano art where the white coat is cast off and he’s wearing the simple black shirt and black jeans under it. Symbolic? Maybe. I wouldn’t give up the coat though. I love the long white/gray coat, the outer embodiment of wanting to wear the white hat, but the desire easily getting tarnished, and the red cross that turns into a sword and becomes Seifer’s symbol and soon to appear other places, emblazoned nice and big on the sleeve. It’s the Cross of Saint James. TRADITIONALLY red represents the blood of Christ, the three lilies represent the honor of the apostle and reference Christ as lily of the valley, and the sword shape represents the torture that St.James suffered before his murder. HOWEVER, my opinion is that here it’s more vague/altered symbolism (For starters, there are other gods not the Christian God in this world) with a side of “looks cool.” We still have something that clearly calls to mind a mission from on high, innocence in the lilies, blood and blood cost, and then war/violence with the sword. And I love it. 

OTP: Seifer/Squall. I should not even start, but lest you think I am just in it for kinky torture scenes: We have these two who, in the beginning, are generally callous or mocking toward everyone, but make each other laugh/smile, see who each other are underneath and describe each other in “soft” terms even if they tease each other for it, repeatedly check in on each other to see if the other is okay, respect each other’s opinion and skills, and...you get the idea. In the words of Zell Dincht, I thought you two were rivals, but you’re all buddy-buddy. 

Pause for a second and let’s just say first impression. That opening fight where they scar each other’s faces? It takes place outside Balamb Garden and the area is shown so we see they are alone. Squall passes out. Squall wakes up in the infirmary within the Garden base. Squall has to explain what happened; people don’t already know. This kind of implies after Squall passed out, Seifer, bleeding from a head wound himself, picked Squall up and carried him home, allowing himself to collapse only when Squall was being safely tended to, because he’s that extra. This is his first (okay, second, after fireballs and face slashing) action in the game even though it’s offscreen. I mean, he could have also just called for help/ran for help, but that’s less fun.

 Seifer is so concerned with being a badass, but he’s admits to Squall all he’s ever wanted was to be the fairytale knight, not a mere soldier. Vulnerability and confession he wants romance....with the first time it’s brought up in game being while they are watching the sun set together, the traditional Square Red Sunset of Shipping. 

Seifer hesitates to defy orders, not for himself, but until he sees Squall is with him. Even though there were other “children of destiny” who all came from the same orphanage, Squall and Seifer were the ones who were never apart, never adopted until it was by a military/mercenary training program, and, even though it may speak more to brotherly than romantic from some angles, there’s a feeling of being the same, knowing each other down to the atoms, adopting an us against the world mindset that trumps trying to best each other when it comes down to it because they are the only constant. When Squall has his breakdown/ breakthrough of why he pushes people away/doesn’t let himself care/tries not to need anyone because people leave/are taken from him and he is scared he isn’t worthy of love and happiness until Rinoa challenges him, this may seem like a dismissal of Seifer, but you can also look at it from “I had no friends or family. I didn’t even have interest in speaking to anyone. I strived to be an unfeeling machine, because all emotion is pain...But also I couldn’t go 48 hours without seeing Seifer.”

Yeah, yeah, we know their main form of hanging out was beating the tar out of each other, but sometimes, especially in older media, this was its own brand of subtext. For more on how Seifer miiiight just view sparring let’s point out that “Isn’t this ROMANTIC?” and “Kneel” as a less easily interpreted as innuendo version of  “I want you on your knees” are battle quotes even in Kingdom Hearts sooo draw your own conclusion. 

We get a line where Squall makes it clear these were friendly matches looked at as pushing their limits beyond what they are allowed to in sanctioned spars, and he feels prepared to take on anything  now because of Seifer. Is it healthy communication  in real life? No! Is this real life? No! Plus, the facial scar was an accident, pretty clearly...on Seifer’s side...I could write another essay on how Seifer draws first blood, but it’s because on Squall’s failed block, AND THEN SQUALL GETS ANGRY AND RETALIATES WITH CLEAR PURPOSE AND MAKES THE OPENING SHOT INTO THE FIRST SIGN GOOD VERSUS BAD GUY ISN’T SO CLEAR CUT (even though they both shouldn’t have been going so hard in a friendly training match to begin with).

 Seifer’s later, repeated threats/expressed desire to give Squall additional scars once he goes evil? That is a different animal, and a horrible one, objectively. Not objectively? No comment. Okay, one comment. Mark you as mine. Two comments. He knows Squall’s lost some memories and he can’t stomach being the next thing forgotten so Squall needs physical reminders.

Hmmm, I was supposed to be talking about the ship, not just the sparring and scars. We can wrap it up with a Marge Simpson. “I just think they’re neat”

BUT ONE MORE THING

Squall’s jacket when he becomes Leon in Kingdom Hearts. His outfit is mostly the same, right? Except the back of the jacket now has a red patch of an emblem (of Rinoa’s angel wings, not Seifer’s cross...for the OT3 feel), and his fight with Sora he throws a fireball like Seifer’s signature. Just, you know, if you want bonus references/feeling.

Brotp: Fuu and Rai. They are willing to commit war crimes with this man, nurse him back from death’s door, and go into exile with him if he can’t return to a normal life even after a redemption arc. This section deserves to be long, but I am beginning to get talked out. Don’t take that as devaluing the friendship though. I’m glad he was allowed to keep his ride or dies in Kingdom Hearts. FRIENDSHIP! They love him, ya know?

Head Canon: What we see of him at the end of the game is a temporary situation and after he heals and refreshes for awhile he’d go back to Balamb and face consequences for his actions, and probably insist on consequences instead of leaning into “an evil sorceress bespelled me and slowly took my free will.” No hiding away in the wilderness. No crossing into and living his life in Esthar. No, “but in the end I broke free and would have been an active, onscreen part of saving the world if Square had let me join the party!” He would insist on being cast into a deep, dark cell. Squall uses pull to get him pardoned, but not before just, flat out, yelling at him for being a martyr.

Unpopular opinion: He did love Rinoa. It may have been a “shallow love,” but he wasn’t just dating her to pass time or because she played into his damsel who needs a hero mindset. There was emotion. He was prepared to die for her and Squall in Timber, and almost did--only being saved by Sorceress Edea...which wasn’t a kindness, but it all worked out in the end. Sure, he gets mind-controlled into using Rinoa as, basically, a human sacrifice and it isn’t Rinoa he wants stripped and brought to his room when we’re taking prisoners, but he cared about her. He does taunt her about their past relationship, but we’ve already established this is just part of his communication skillset.  Yes, I will elaborate more if asked, though it’s more feeling based than text based. 

A wish: If there’s ever a sequel, let him have put out the good in the world that was his dream and be seen as a hero. Let us see a matured and peaceful Seifer. 

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: My one fear if they ever remake FFVIII instead of just porting it, is that some of the creative team have said they like the fan theory where you are dead part way through the game and the rest is a dying dream or purgatory. It’s creative stuff; I will say that. It’s not my favorite, and I don’t agree, but those kinds of fan interpretations when they go in depth are super cool. PLEASE LET THE INTEREST IN IT JUST BE THE SAME AS MINE OF THINKING IT’S CREATIVE BECAUSE MAKING THIS  CANON WOULD BE SO, SO BAD FOR EVERY CHARACTER.

5 words to best describe them: stubborn, misguided, paladin, romantic, petty

My nickname for them: I don’t really have one

[buriednurbckyrd]

The Breakup Box (5)

It felt odd to go about her normal daily routine.  How was a person supposed to carry on business as usual after being kissed senseless by two super soldiers?  It was more than a little embarrassing to admit to herself that she would have let them have her right there in the kitchen where anyone could have walked in and seen.  She knew she hadn’t imagined feeling the evidence of their shared excitement pressed against her and thinking about it sent sparks of hot lust through her body.  When rational thought became possible she was thankful they had the sense to stop before everything got overheated.

It was a little strange to sit and eat pancakes like they hadn’t just rubbed up on each other.  Y/N frowned while she changed into her workout clothes. Her invitation to join her in the gym was politely declined.  Steve and Bucky kissed her cheeks and disappeared with an annoying air of mystery.  Oh well, she thought.  At least I know where we stand now, and there’s almost no one I trust more then them.  

Deciding to go easy after her week of self imposed punishment she put on a soothing playlist and went through her modified routine, and made a point of skipping a round with the punching bag.  Her now ex always made seemingly casual or offhanded comments about how her exercise habits must not be doing much.  Now, she couldn’t remember why she had ever laughed them off.  And because those thoughts were bringing down her happy mood she vowed to put him out of her mind.  He’s not worth it, he doesn’t get to make me feel bad about myself anymore.

“Hey you.”  Y/N nearly fumbled the weight she was holding.  

“Natasha?” She set it down and rushed over to her friend leaning in the doorway.  “Shit, I’m pretty sweaty but I really wanna hug you.” Natasha just laughed and embraced her.  

“I haven’t seen you in two months, I don’t care.”  

“How was DC.?”  

“Really, really boring.  But I shouldn’t have to go back again for a nice long time.”  The red head grinned.  “Ross still can’t stand you.  Bruce is still at the top of his black list but you’re creeping up there.”  

“Well shucks, I’m honored.”

“According to him you’re ‘a razor tongued harpy’ and ‘an undignified brat with no respect for authority’.”  

“Am I now?”  

“He told Fury he should dismiss you from the team immediately.”

“Bet he just loved that.” Y/N laughed.

“More or less told him where he could put his opinion.  I wouldn’t worry about your position, Fury’s got your back.  Along with every other person you’ve ever worked with.”

“Ross doesn’t scare me, he might be high ranking but underneath it all he’s just a bully.  If he keeps my friends’ names out of his mouth he’ll have no more grief from me.”  She walked around the gym wiping down and putting away the equipment she had used.

“We all know he’s incapable of keeping his mouth shut so I look forward to the next harpy appearance.”  Natasha said with mirth.  “But enough about all of that.  How are you doing?”  Y/N looked up at her friend, confused.  

“I’m fine, why?”  

“Sam was on his way out as I was on my way in,”  Natasha said.  “He might have mentioned your recent breakup.”  

“Oh, that.”  She drank from her water bottle.  “I’m really okay. Better than I have been in a long time.”  

“Then you made up with Rogers and Barnes too?”  

“Sam sure had a lot to say for someone on his way out.”

“The man is a shameless gossip.” Natasha shrugged.  Y/N sighed and chuckled.  

“I need a shower before we have girl talk.”  The other woman fell in step beside her.  

“That gives me time to find something to eat.  I wanna hear everything.”

…

An hour later Natasha and Y/N were settled on their favorite couch with a bowl of popcorn between them.  Natasha refrained from commenting until the entire story was finished, letting Y/N tell her everything that had happened.  

“Well,” the red head said after a few beats.  “It’s about time.”  Y/N blinked.

“Really? That’s it?  That’s your reaction?”  Natasha shrugged.

“The three of you have been dancing around this forever.  I honestly can’t believe you dated that idiot for as long as you did.”  She looked at Y/N seriously.  “Why did you go out with him?”  The question took her by surprise.  

“I’d like to say I don’t know,” she said.  “But you’d know I was lying.”  

“I would.”

“I didn’t think any of this was possible.  I thought I’d just watch and wish and hurt and I wanted to pretend that maybe I could move on and stop pining.”  Her voice had dropped to a whisper.  “And maybe it wasn’t good but I couldn’t stand being alone.”  

“I hate that you were so unhappy.  I could see it but I didn’t know what to do.  I probably should have interfered.”  Natasha laughed softly.  “We’re all dumb asses, huh?”  

“I think it had to happen like this?  That sounds so corny but I guess things do happen for a reason.”  

“True. You ended up here and that’s the point I guess.” She grinned. “And speaking of point, you know you’re honor bound by girl code to give me all the salacious details when you get more than a sample in the kitchen.”  

“All of it?  You really want to know every detail?”  

“On second thought, just the highlights might suffice.  I still have to work with them.”  They both laughed.  “You really do look happier than I’ve ever seen you.  Haven’t seen them yet but I imagine it’s about the same.”  

“I hope so,” Y/N bit her lip.  “Can I admit something?”  Natasha nodded.  “This all feels like a dream.  There’s a part of me that doesn’t believe it, and I’m so scared that I’ll wake up and it won’t be real.  Or even worse, it is real and they’ll decide it was a huge mistake and our relationship is destroyed.  I thought just telling them would ruin everything and now I can’t tell if I’m over the moon or terrified.  Or both at the same time.”  Her head dropped back.  “I’m a fucking mess.”  

“Messy or not, those two boys are head over heels for you so relax and just go with it for now.  Don’t overthink it.”  

“I hope I’m as confident as you are when I grow up.”  

“First of all, you’re what, six months younger than I am?  Second of all, fake it until you make it, baby.”  A quiet throat clearing interrupted them.  “Oh, hey Steve, Barnes.”  

“Good to see you back, Nat.”  Steve told her.  “It was quiet around here while you were in DC.”

“Sounds like there was still plenty of excitement without me.”  She said with a suggestive glance at the three of them.  A pink blush bloomed on Steve’s face.  Natasha laughed and stood up, walking over the Steve and patting him on the cheek.  

“We’ll catch up later, I get the feeling you three want some private time.” She laughed while she left, Steve and Bucky both looked down at their feet with embarrassed grins.  

“Hi.” She said a little shyly.  

“Hey there, Doll.”  Bucky leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.  “Sorry for leaving you hanging earlier.”  

“It’s fine,”  she reassured them.  “And you’re here now.”  They sat down on either side of her, both taking one of her hands.  

“We’re hoping you’re free tomorrow night,”  Steve said.  “We thought tonight might be too last minute.”  He gave her fingers a squeeze.

“And we want everything to be perfect for our first date.”  Bucky told her.  Their faces were so earnest and sweet, Y/N felt her heart stutter.  

“We can do something low key, don’t feel like you need to make a big fuss.”  

“You’re worth a big fuss,”  Steve kissed her.  “This isn’t the most conventional beginning to a relationship but we want it to be special.”  

“Don’t you worry about a thing.  We have it all planned.”  Bucky sounded so proud of himself.  She giggled and wrapped her arms around him.

“I can’t wait.”  Bucky and Steve shared a look over her head.  They couldn’t wait either, it was past time she was shown how she deserved to be treated.  

next

[vegetalass]

ik this is a bit odd, but can you do some hc about micah as a kid/teen like his family life and stuff idk

This totally isn’t odd at all, anon! I love writing / thinking about this kind of topic too so I’m so happy you asked! Obviously, I’m taking some liberties here to create more of a narrative / backstory... but I hope you like it anyway! 

I’m sorry that they’re not the happiest…. If u want happy just send me another request and i gotchu!! 

I also couldn’t decide if u wanted in game or modern so I just did both LOL 

In Game

As far as we know, Micah is the third of his line and has a (younger) brother, Amos 

It’s honestly pretty easy to see Micah growing up without a mother... 

Either because she left or because she died when he was very young 

And because his father is an outlaw, Micah has a hard time getting a straight story out of him of what happened to her anyway 

One thing that he probably knows for sure, however, is the fact that his father was probably very abusive to her, mostly because we can infer that he was abusive to Micah, as well 

Hence why her leaving, dying, or getting left behind isn’t an implausible thought 

That being said, everyone loves their mother, and I think the lack of growing up with one definitely is part of what makes him so cruel, angry, and bitter 

Especially as he’s growing up, since part of him feels like he was robbed of being loved 

This is also pretty ironic because this situation is very close to that of Arthur’s... as he also has a dead mother and outlaw father 

That’s why, I think, in a way, Micah trying to follow in his father's footsteps was and is a defense mechanism

It acts as a way to both protect himself from his father’s wrath and a way for him to do something other than sit around and be miserable 

Or in Amos’ case, as his father probably says, being useless 

You know, the “if you can’t beat them, join them” mentality 

I think that while initially Micah went along with his father’s demands just to placate his anger, eventually, doing as his father asked and following without question was the only thing that really got him praise and made him feel proud of himself

This is also part of why Micah wants to be and feel like a survivor so badly

And how he starts to feel a sense of pride in his name, too 

Despite also being someone who definitely likes receiving praise from people he thinks he’s supposed to respect 

Despite the fact that he supposedly ran with his brother for a time, his brother is a lot more empathetic than him, and I can see how this may be what caused the rift between them a long, long time ago 

Back when they were kids, even, and Micah still chased squirrels with sticks for fun

When he first started acting like his father, Amos questioned, begged him even, to stop doing senseless and reckless things for attention 

And this was such that, when they did start running things together, Micah still held this feeling of resentment toward Amos for being better than him, kinder, that hasn’t, and will never, go away 

And Micah, having never really known love, doesn’t know what else there is to do other than hate him for this

Growing up hungry never did anyone any favors, anyway 

Modern

I think that in a more modern setting, Micah would be what some might consider white trash 

He grows up poor, with a drunk daddy who’s not around and constantly in trouble with the law

The only difference I imagine is that in modern times, his mother is around for a little while longer

In this case, he has memories or her holding him and telling him she loves him and his brother 

This is why her eventual leaving makes him into a bitter and angry person in this case, as well, despite the fact that Micah knows that she loved him

Though one can see how he probably started being mean to her, too, just like his father

Parents aside, he lives in a small house with a big yard 

He has to share a room with Amos, which he resents

And if his dad isn’t drunk, he’s asleep in front of the tv or God knows where 

Despite all of the fighting and their differences, Micah cooks and Amos cleans 

Mostly because Micah doesn’t mind stealing the food they eat (even at this young age)  

As a kid, he also plays in the yard a lot

They probably have a couple balls lying around and some garden tools that they play with 

Carves his name into the fence once and gets chewed out by his father 

Or he goes over to the houses of other kids in the neighborhood to hang out and eat dinner with them 

The other moms always make him bring Amos so he can eat, too 

Despite him and the other boys being mean to and wrassling with and bullying each other, these are fond memories for him

Being surrounded by people who are similar to him is a great comfort

And having this kind of connection with others sort of builds on what he likes about Dutch later in life, too 

I think being a teenager gets a little more difficult for him because as he ages, he has less of an excuse to be immature and reliant on other people

And the older he gets, the more he’s forced to face the fact that his mother left his family, his brother doesn’t really like him, and his dad is a drunk criminal

And as his dad starts disappearing more and more, Micah really has to try not to go out and follow him 

Because he knows if he does he’ll either get dragged into the fight, hurt, or both

This is also when things get more tense with Amos, too, as Micah finds his personality to be a lot more prominent than when they were kids

Micah thinks Amos is bossy and overbearing because he’s always trying to get him to do the right thing

And since they eventually both get jobs while going to school, Amos tries to tell Micah to steal less and be more honest with the world so his future can be better than his past 

Amos is also probably better with the girls at school too, which Micah finds annoying 

I like to think that in all situations, Amos does love Micah, but knows he can’t fix him 

Overall, Micah is a broken and cruel person, but I think it stems from the fact that the world was cruel to him, first