#funny thing they didn’t fight but actually had a weird ass truce

[hanakihan]

me and mutual had a cracked idea

Kinda Tokyo Ghoul AU with SSS-rank Ghoul Jinwoo and one of the best (but not rank wise) Investigator Jinchul

Jinchul accidentally ends up trying to stale against S rank ghoul who pretty much toys with him while Jinchul really wishes his coworkers would fucking move faster because he’s pretty much injured and talking this one out will only win him some minutes at best

So then he’s pretty much unarmed, injured and tired and will die anyway so when he’s certain he’ll be stabbed he’s suddenly thrown away into a wall only to see another ghoul murdering a ghoul

Jinchul pretty much goes inadequate after blood loss and probably a concussion after that throw into wall so he just sits here bleeding and trying to stay conscious while leaning on his quinque

And then he hears someone asking him if he’s okay and he tiredly moves his head to see that new ghoul just kneeling at distance from him and definitely not reeking of malice or murder intent, so jinchul kinda laughs a little hysterically and decides to roll with it because honestly he’s gonna die anyway at least he’ll have some fun chatting with a ghoul who didn’t try to murder him on spot by simply being dressed as investigator

and then he blacks out mid chat only to wake up in a bed with doctors running around and Gunhee having both worried and puzzled expression on his face which is later explained by ‘a SSS-rank ghoul delivered your unconscious body to your team and pretty much disappeared’

Jinchul later keeps stumbling upon this mysterious and almost mythical SSS-rank ghoul and starts to think it’s either a weird form of hunting on later’ part or flirting (jinchul may laugh all he wants but jinwoo is definitely awkwardly flirting because he became interested in this weird investigator who didn’t start to act like most of them do and instead had a really nice peaceful chat with him)

[tfw-no-tennis]

beast warsss s1

soooo ruth and I finished beast wars s1!

ok we watched the last 6 eps like a week ago bear w/me here

ok so what even happened in these eps god. ok so there was the ep where rhinox farted on the predacons which sure was. something

ruth: I shant be rewatching that ever again!

ok I loved when blackarachnia was like ‘you talk to yourself a lot’ to ultimate shakespearian play actor megatron and he was like ‘yessss I like intelligent conversation’ LMAOOOO

and also the part where tarantulas was taken hostage and megatron just shot him lmfao no wonder tarantulas isn't loyal. also I just watched speed for the first time and I was like ayyy

then following up that goofy ass episode was an ep where tigatrons snow tiger friend FUCKING DIED??? that was so sad and fucked up god

and then tigatron got all disillusioned w/the war (understandably) and peaced out AS I GUESSED HE WOULD...

he did come back in the end, so I think maybe he’ll peace out more permanently in the future idk we’ll see

also I really liked seeing the differing perspectives on the conflict - specifically tigatrons and dinobots

like, dinobot has an interesting POV, in that the maximals exist to prevent the predacons from trying to conquer the galaxy - if they didn’t oppose the predacons that would be bad

but tigatron has an interesting point too, in that SOMEONE has to stop fighting first...

and then the fact that dinobot says he also hates the war, just like tigatron...

its a fascinating grey situation honestly 

also im so curious now like...what made dinobot defect and join the maximals?? he seems to acknowledge that the predacons conquering everything would be bad, but doesn't really delve into why he thinks that, or what he thinks the maximals are trying to accomplish (other than stopping the predacons)

ruth said that she wanted an ep where the predacons DONT show up and attack, and the conflict is all internal, and mannnn I agree. I feel like I wanna see more from all the characters - why they’re fighting, their history with each other, what they think about what they're doing...this ep was kinda the closest we got to that and I liked it a lot

also I find it funny that now inferno is here as dumb grunt #3 (to round out the squad with waspinator and terrorsaur) and they're all just sooo dumb lmao

then suddenly we shift to ALIENS as if the main characters aren't all aliens lmao what am I talking about  and the golden disc comes back also???

I find it funny that that was shown/mentioned in the first ep then never brought up again. like, what was that about?

this seems to be a different gold disc too??? idk bro

anyways that part where megatron sends a weird floating head hologram message to optimus primal was so hilarious. the DRAMA

and then they had a TRUCE!!!! that was so funnnyyyyy they were like ‘ok truce time I guess ugh’ and then kept trying to kill each other but just not with guns. anything else was fine tho???

then things got very looney tunes for a bit 

megatron had a good episode-ending monologue there

and ALIENS ARE COMING....and brooo that plotline has been brewing in the background this whole season and its so fascinating ahhhh I was so hype....I like how it’s been built up to in such a steady and subtle way

then...THE FINALE

this shit was WILD bro!!!!!!!!!!!

plot was FULL ON, no time for hijinks

when airazor got pulled into that dome then zapped a bunch...fuckin wild 

when unicrons giant floating head showed up I was like HHHH????? H??????????? but then it was just a stand-in symbol which I honestly loved

like I feel like that was perfect fanservice - acknowledging the OG stuff but not Actually having it be unicron

and fr I have no idea what these aliens are or anything about them. I'm pretty sure they're original to beast wars (so not like the quintessons or something) 

everything came together here....we get to learn a little more about that booby-trapped alien frisbee and stonehenge, and the fucking second moon, and that ep where optimus got eaten by that alien pod thing 

also the aliens were VAGUE AS FUCK about what's going on so there's still plenty of mystery remaining

then OPTIMUS PRIMAL FUCKING DIED as is tradition for OPs, but I loved how he was like ‘no team, it must be me who goes up on this dangerous self-sacrificing mission...but you guys absolutely have to grab me after I evacuate the pod bc I DO NOT plan to die here’ but then he DID

I found it interesting that like half the cast was barely in the finale (like, the last 3 eps, which all kinda went together), like we saw a lot of op, rattrap and airazor, but barely any of rhinox, dinobot and tigatron...same w/the predicons, lots of megatron and the spiders, not much of anyone else 

oh also I loved megatron in the finale...I feel like we finally got to see him in full megatron-ness, with all his manipulations finally coming into play...up until now he’s been kinda more of a bystander, sending out his minions to do stuff but rarely leaving the base and joining the fight himself 

so yeah it was rlly cool seeing him predict tarantulas actions and use that to his advantage - that also explains why he’s kinda let tarantulas do his thing (to an extent) up until now

also damn tarantulas rlly knew what was up even when literally nobody else seemed that concerned abt the impending alien attack. wrow

a lot of that happened offscreen tbh - like, it was obvious throughout this season that tarantulas had a bunch of stuff going on that the viewers weren't seeing/hearing abt, and this is kinda where we get to see all of it 

same w/megatron actually 

its p cool how the show is able to show stuff like that without feeling the need to map out every single character motivation and action on screen...tbh that would be tough w/a cast this size

SO YEA beast wars s1!!! was wild!!! I cant believe they left off on a fucking cliff hanger w/optimus primal DEAD. christ. so yeah I'm excited for s2!!!!

[daedae127]

Help me; Bang Chan

a/n:

alright, this is actually the first time I've written an x-reader, and I wrote it in one sitting at 2 am lol. Just a reminder, this isn't edited because I'm a lazy person. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, anon.

Warnings: mentions of blood, a little bit of a steamy scene (it lasts for like two seconds), and swearing.

Bang Chan x Gender-neutral reader

You sighed, stepping into your apartment and taking off your boots. The mask was next, and you rubbed at your eyes. It really was exhausting being a super villain, you thought. Your muscles ached, and all you wanted to do was soak in a steaming bath and sleep. You were about to do just that, when your stomach growled loudly. You groaned.

I should’ve had something other than a breakfast bar this morning.

You headed to the kitchen, deciding to make something simple, like ramen, so you could just sleep. You filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove, turning the burner to high. While the water was heating up, you started to unzip the skintight suit all super heros and villains wore for some reason. They were honestly such a pain, and you’d rather go around causing havoc in drawstring pants and t-shirts, but hey. You didn’t make the rules.

A loud crack startled you, causing you to drop the package of ramen you were holding. You cursed. The weather had been extra shitty that day, and just when you thought it was starting to clear up, it got worse. Great. The kettle started to whistle loudly, and you quickly turned the burner off and poured the boiling water into the ramen. It would take awhile to cool, so you headed to the bedroom to get more comfortable clothes on.

You finished stripping out of your suit, hanging it in the very back of the closet. Just as you were pulling on a pair of sweatpants there was a loud crash from outside. It sounded like it was on the balcolny. You sighed heavily, and peeked out of the window to see what it was.

Oh shit.

There was a tall figure slumped against the door, and they were obviously hurt. Blood was dripping down their face, and fuck. It was Chan. Your supposed arch nemesis, who you definitely didn't have a crush on. You just thought it was fun to tease him. It so wasn't fair that he still looked hot, even when covered in blood-

Shit. He was covered in blood. How the hell did that happen?

You quickly opened the screen door, because even if he was technically your enemy, you didn't want him dead. Chan moaned softly, and you barely caught him when he went down, promptly passing out.

"Seriously? You show up and ruin my carpet, and then faint and leave me to drag you inside?" You shook your head, trying to convince yourself that you weren't worried, it would just be boring if something were to happen to Chan.

•••

Oh, who were you kidding, you were worried sick. It had been about three hours since Chan fainted, and he was still out cold. You had given him a towel bath, getting as much blood off of him as you could. You'd also had to give him stitches in a few places on his torso.

You also left his mask on, because while you wanted to know his identity, you didn't believe is playing this dirty.

Now he was tucked in your bed, warming up and wearing one of your old shirts. Why did the guy have to be that toned, jeez. It wasn't fair, you decided, especially when you were trying your best to ignore the feelings blooming in your heart.

You sat down beside Chan, studying him while he slept. You wished circumstances were different. Maybe if he were a villain, or, God forbid, you were a hero, it could work out.

You sighed, reaching for your mask incase he actually did wake up. You tied it nice and tight, and while you were definitely going to have marks on your face for days, you'd rather him not know who you were.

You looked over to him, wondering if you should tie him up, but quickly decided against the idea. It would only injure him further, and that was the last thing you wanted.

"Do I sleep, or do I stay up and watch you. I do have to make sure you don't like, kill me or anything..." You stopped. "Jeez, why am I even talking to you. You can't even hear me."

You flopped down, pulling up a blanket over your chin. "I'm going to trust you. Probably not smart, but I'm exhausted. I have a regular job, you know, and it was a shitty day, so please go easy on me."

And with that, you fell asleep, not noticing Chan's eyes watching as you did so.

•••

When you woke, it took you a few minutes to realize what position you were in. When you finally did, you cursed as loudly as possible. "What the actual fuck Chan, I saved your damn ass and this is how you repay me? By tying me up on my own bed?" There was no response.

You groaned, testing out how strong the ropes around your wrists were, before noticing that your mask was still intact. Well, you supposed, at least he had enough decency to keep this on.

It was slightly surprising, but you chose not to linger on the subject for too long.

It was then you noticed Chan leaning heavily against the doorframe, looking wary. "Well, well, well," you drawled, "I see that you're very appreciative of my help. You would be dead if I hadn't seen you on my balcony."

Chan rolled his eyes under his mask. "You were the closest person I could think of. That doesn't mean I trust you though."

You shivered, closing your eyes. Why did he have to be so... so perfect, and hot, and-

And let's not forget that fact that he tied you up. "You know Chan, I would have gladly agreed to be tied up for you, all you had to do was ask,"

Chan shook his head, sighing. "Be quiet, please. My head is pounding."

You groaned. "Release me. I took you in, didn't I? I'm not going to try anything funny, I promise. Please Chan, the ropes are way too tight, and even though I like to tease I won't try anything. I'm losing feeling in my hands."

It wasn't a lie, your hands were getting a bit numb. On a normal day you'd continue to tease and mock him, but you were just too tired. Chan seemed to sense that, and he slowly nodded. "...fine. But mark my words, if you try anything you'll regret it."

You nodded quickly, flopping your legs around. "Just let me go, damnit."

He limped to the side of the bed, and carefully unknotted the ropes, letting them fall to the floor. You looked up at him. "Thank you. Now, care to explain why you showed up here in the middle of the night covered in blood? Actually, how do you even know where I live... I thought I was discreet."

Chan let out a small chuckle. "Stop pouting, it's a bad look on you," he ignored the indignant sounds you let out, and sat on the bed. "and it's really none of your business, ___."

"You made it my business when you ruined my carpet, jackass. And you didn't answer my question. How do you know where I live?" You were starting to get a little annoyed with him.

Chan shrugged, then winced. You had to restrain yourself from asking if he was okay, if he needed anything, if he wanted you to kiss him better. Wait no, that’s not right. You didn’t like him, and that was the end of it.

“I have my ways. Besides, I’m actually pretty sure I know who you are.”

Wait, what?

“You work at a children’s hospital, don’t you?”

Shit, he’s onto you.

“I don’t even know where the damn children’s hospital is, Chan. Also, I don’t have the time to carry out my ‘evil deeds’ and take care of-” you forced your face to scrunch up in disgust, “kids.” There, that should take care of that.

But of course it wasn’t that simple.

You yelped as Chan suddenly pushed you onto your back, head banging into the wall behind you. “What the fuck mate, I thought we had a truce or something-” Chan rolled his eyes so far back into his head, you were momentarily worried that they’d get stuck. Sadly they didn’t, and as always he had a sassy comeback. “You know, ___, you’re a really bad liar. Especially when you’re flustered.”

Well Damn. He was fighting dirty, but two could play that game.

“Oh come on,” you murmured, rolling your hips up to meet his. His cheeks turned a pretty pink, but he stayed unmoving over you. Ouch, that really had to hurt with all of his wounds. “I don’t think I’m the flustered one here, babe.”

Chan scoffed. “If only you could see your own face.”

Oh fuck, why did he have to have such a sexy voice.

You looked away, trying to get your thoughts in order. You were surprised when he took hold of your jaw gently, so that you were looking him in the eyes. Chan smiled. “___... can I kiss you?”

You stuttered. "Chan...I want this. More than you could ever know, but..." You shook your head. "We don't even know each other. I can't just hook up with you and pretend it didn't happen."

Chan looked confused, and you wanted to cry. Of course he didn't understand, he didn't feel any kind of romantic feelings towards you. You gently pushed on his chest, and he moved to lay beside you.

You were surprised when Chan spoke.

"My real name is Christopher. I mean, I like to go by Chan with my friends in Korea, but Chris is my real name. Apart from making your crime life difficult, I'm a producer for a small company."

What. The. Fuck.

Chan, (Chris?) just fucking told you who he was. You could easily out him to the whole world, telling people that their favorite hero was a part time producer. They would probably find that charming.

But you wouldn't. And he knew that. That's why he told you.

"Well?" he teased, "are you going to tell me who you are?" When you hesitated, he spoke again. "You don't have to, you know. But seriously, please don't tell anyone. I'm trusting you with a lot here. I want this to work."

You nodded slowly. "I.. I'm ___ Lee." He looked at you with a weird look. "I know I know, not the most discreet name, but it was all I could think of!" Chan laughed and you pouted, turning away from him. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back to him.

"I swear to god Chan, if you hurt yourself more I will personally drag you out of my apartment."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Chan just laughed again, and you rolled your eyes, holding back a smile. You turned ro face him, hesitating just a moment, then reached behind you and took off the mask covering your face. Chan's eyes widened, but he hurried to do the same.

With the mask off he looked...well, he looked just as you'd always imagined. Not that you had imagined this situation, of course not, but it was so...nice.

You looked at each other for a few moments, just taking it all in. Then, Chan moved forward and kissed you softly. You kissed back, placing a hand on his cheek. When he pulled back, you whined, reaching to pull him in again. Chan shook his head, laughing quietly. "You're so impatient. Let me at least take you out first,"

You stuttered. "I wasn't- I just wanted another kiss, jackass."

He laughed again, his eyes full of mischief. "I'm just teasing you...but really, I want to take you out. I want to get to know you, and we can figure out the rest later."

"I...I want to know you too." You snorted. "This is so unethical, you know that right?"

Chan grinned. "What did I say. We'll figure it out later. Right now I just want to kiss you again."

You rolled your eyes, leaning in. "You should rest. I had to give you a few stitches, and I don't want those to break, if they haven't already."

He nodded. "Yes dear, whatever you say, dear."

"Oh, fuck all the way off."

You sighed contentedly, snuggling close to him. You could definitely get used to this.

《End》

[honeyedlashton]

“Fireflies and Make Believe”

Word count: 2788

Warnings: Language (listen I swear when I write. It lets off steam.)

A/N: Okay I’ll admit I was greatly inspired by Dreamboy for this fic. Fetus Malum is a win always. And idk man. I just really wanted to have some quality soft times with these boys who have known each other for 14 years. They’re BABIES in this. Like actually 11–almost in Calum’s case. So I could find no fetus Malum pictures to go along with the age, so I’m using the iconic baby baby one of them. (My picture quality just keeps getting better and better.) Anyway, here these boys are. Hope you enjoy:

———————————————————————

It was the summer of dreams, that break just between fifth and sixth year. When the hot December air was bringing in endless heat waves, Calum could not have been more excited because he and Michael made plans to spend as much time as possible together in their off time.

And unlike most people’s plans, it actually happened for them. When Michael wasn’t over at Calum’s, Calum was at Michael’s. Luckily their parents didn’t seem to mind carting them to the other’s house when they were having so much fun.

Plus two eleven-year-old boys—well almost eleven, in Calum’s case—always had something to do. Michael had loads of video games and a guitar he sometimes let Calum mess around with—but Calum determined quickly that the guitar was not for him. Calum had football, but when Michael was over he didn’t really force him to play unless it was in the cool of the evening, so Calum’s house became the place where they watched tons of movies. Calum would guess they’d been through at least half a million by the end of break.

Both were lightweights and couldn’t stay up all night—though not for lack of trying. On more than a few occasions they’d woken up sometime mid-morning with Calum’s carpet indented on Michael’s cheek, a stream of drool trailing down Calum’s arm from his own mouth, and the home screen of whatever dvd they were watching running on a continuous loop.

They’d always rewatch the ending.

Calum was fond of the time they spent together. In fact, it was mostly because of the time they’d spent together that made it the summer of dreams. Michael was so interesting, and funny, and he always had something nice to say to him. He could go on for hours about any topic that interested them both. And Calum didn’t mind if he talked for a while in the dark of the night while they had both at least attempted to go to sleep. He liked hearing what Michael had to say. He couldn’t be more thrilled to have a best friend as caring and charismatic as Michael Clifford.

Michael’s neighborhood had a pool, and on certain nights of the week—specifically Friday and Saturday—the pool closed later at night than during a normal day. Calum loved, going to Michael’s house on the weekend because that meant night swims two days in a row. And while it was one of the only outdoor activities where he was in danger of having to talk to people he didn’t know, he just enjoyed being in the pool, freezing in the chilly water and being rewarmed by the concrete that still radiated heat after the sun was down.

Plus the games he and Michael would play he would consider to be better than all the other kids’ at the pool, because Michael was sort of a gaming legend and he always knew how to make it interesting. And on the off-chance other kids did join them, he was always helpful and kind to others, too—something Calum occasionally had to remind himself was okay.

Calum didn’t understand why the idea of Michael being friendly to someone else made him so upset. At least he didn’t until one Friday night after New Years.

He hadn’t seen Michael in way over a week. They went to the pool as normal, they had their swim trunks in plastic bags with towels and sunscreen—even though the sun would set soon, Micheal’s mother insisted and Calum was no one to fight it. They chatted about all the things they got for Christmas and Michael went on about a movie they were going to have to see soon. Calum giggled along with each of Michael’s hilarious New Years stories, grateful to be in the presence of his best friend again.

When they arrived to the pool the boys headed straight to the locker room and quickly changed out of their jeans. Calum was anxious to get back out in the water, it had been a while and he ached for the cool, unsteady rhythm of the water to soak him to the bone.

But when he turned around to ask Michael if he was ready, he saw something he never thought he’d see. His best friend in light purple swim shorts. This momentarily threw Calum off track because he didn’t expect it, it was so different from anything he’d ever seen Michael wear.

“Oh? You like my swim trunks?” Michael smiled that soft smile he got when he was proud of something. “They’re the GIR shorts I was telling you about.”

When Michael had described getting Invader Zim shorts, he for some reason had expected the shorts to be the same green color as the cartoon character for which it’s advertising, not a light purple...

“Do you like them?” Michael asked sort of suspiciously when Calum kept staring. The easy, proud smile was gone and Calum knew he had to act fast.

“Yeah, they’re cool, man,” Calum assured Michael. And Michael seemed to accept the answer. Whether or not he believed Calum, that was a different conversation.

“C’mon,” Michael said closing the locker, “I’ve been waiting for two weeks for your lame ass to get here so I could swim again.”

And when he started walking, Calum could see the little green cartoon decal on the side of the shorts.

On the walk to the water Calum found himself thinking about the color of his own shorts, the plain navy blue with a thin white stripe up the side. He wondered briefly what people would say if he wore purple shorts like that.

It wasn’t that he disliked them, he just couldn’t look away from them. Or Michael for that matter. And he felt that sort of weird tug at his stomach he’d sometimes felt during the summer. It wasn’t a bad or good, just sort of uncomfortable for a second, and then it’s gone.

“Dude, hurry up, I’ve been thinking about this game of Space Invaders forever,” Michael called from the edge already.

Calum walked faster—which it wasn’t running—and jumped in tugging Michael with him.

The water was still a little warm, but not for long. “Dickhead,” Michael shouted when he resurfaced.

Calum giggled and gave a few apologetic looks at the few displeased parents whose children were about to be exposed to the wrath of Michael Clifford. “You could have warned me you were gonna push me in!” Michael pushed a wave of water at Calum’s face.

Calum felt a little water go up the nose but was otherwise able to splash back playfully. But that only caused the two of them to get into a splash fight. Unfortunately a few poorly aimed splashes hit a couple of girls who were for some reason trying not to get their hair wet. Calum didn’t understand, nor did he care. Only about what Michael was gonna do next, because it was probably going to be evil.

But before Michael could act Calum held his hand out. “Truce!” He offered.

“As long as that means I win, then yes.”

“Fine, you win.”

Michael’s red lips formed a smirk, and he shook Calum’s hand. “Good. I wanna play our game anyway, so I forgive you.”

Calum smiled. “Whats so different about this game of Space Invaders, anyway?”

“Well usually we’ve been playing where I’m the alien, and you’re the guardian of earth—A-K-A: the pool. And that’s gonna stay the same, but this time it’s the final showdown. Winner takes all. No more Space Invaders till we aren’t sick of it anymore. Plus whoever wins doesn’t get splashed for a month, but they can splash however much they want.”

This intrigued Calum, because Michael was relentless when he’d splash. It always found a way to get caught in Calum’s nose and throat, and he would do anything to give Michael a taste of his own medicine. “You’re on!”

So the two set out. Calum in the middle of the pool, Michael along the side.

“You’ll never take this planet,” Calum called, getting in a vaguely defensive position.

“And you’ll never take me alive!” Michael called back, completely immersed in character. He dove under the water to swim at Calum—meaning he had to be quick to move out of the way.

The good thing about this game was the fact that it tired them both out relatively quickly. However this time—with splash immunity on the line—neither of them were willing to forfeit. Not even when it was mandatory break time. They just sat at the edge of the pool barely talking. Calum was going through strategies in his mind of how he could beat Michael.

And he didn’t know what he expected when he looked at Michael, but he was still wearing those shorts and Calum’s breath caught...

It was so easy to forget about them in the pool, but outside? Oh boy. It was worse than Calum even thought. He felt the pull in his stomach, and this time warmth spread across his face.

The sun was down now, and there was only the lights along the inside of the pool and the locker room building keeping their shapes from blending into the darkness. The moon was out too. Big and bright and beautiful.

Calum bit his lip lightly and looked over the profile of Michael’s face out of the corner of his eye, so it wasn’t noticeable. He felt that strange tug again and...

Oh.

It hit him all at once. And he didn’t know if he wanted to run away, or stay close. But he realized like a switched on lightbulb that Michael was the prettiest face he’d ever seen.

His blush grew worse then, and he only prayed nothing more telling happened, especially during their wait for the signal to let them back in the pool.

“Are you alright, man?” Michael looked at him with those soft eyes. Everything about him was so soft and kind and gentle and... fuck.

“Y-yeah,” Calum said unconvincingly. “Just cold.”

“The water is gonna be cold,” Michael smirked. “Are you sure you sure you’re gonna be able to defend Earth while your teeth are chattering?”

“You just wish you could get in my head,” Calum rolled his eyes trying to find some form of normal. “You’re never gonna win.”

“We’ll see about that...”

And as if on cue the bell rang to tell them they could get back in the pool, Michael jumped without hesitation making Calum scramble to swim faster than him. They reached the middle of the pool at the same time and stood in the not-too-deep water. Calum looking only slightly up at Michael.

“I have alien ships surrounding earth.” Michael narrowed his eyes at him.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do! They’re here and they’re awesome.”

“Prove it!”

But whatever Michael had planned it was cut short by the appearance of a firefly by the pool. He quickly pointed to it, “there! That! See? I told you!”

“How did you do that?”

Michael shrugged, “I’m a powerful intergalactic commander. I can call up some of my alien friends.”

“Too bad they won’t help you win the war,” Calum said and pushed Michael under the water in what he could only describe as a savage power move. Neither of them knew how to actually win Space Invaders. It was honestly just until one gave up, so Calum just had to outlast Michael.

Michael apparently couldn’t just take that, because Calum felt Michael’s hands wrap around his waist and pull him under the water. They shoved at each other under the water in an unspoken agreement to not go to the surface unless they were forfeiting.

Calum wasn’t even sure what was happening half the time, they were just flailing limbs at each other. Until at one point he kicked and noticed Michael wasn’t there anymore. And all at once, Calum remembered Michael’s bronchitis.

He found Michael on the surface leaning at the edge of the pool coughing out a lung. His mom was perched beside him giving him some water and saying something Calum couldn’t quite hear. Michael nodded in understanding.

Calum’s heart was racing when he reached the edge. “I forgot about your bronchitis... I’m sorry, Mikey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just—. I need oxygen to live you know?” Michael coughed out a slight laugh.

Calum even smiled. “I won’t count that round.”

“No, you won fair and square.”

“Mike, I can’t just take the win like that. You were hurt.”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Michael rolled his eyes, “I thought I could hold my breath longer than I actually could. In any game that’s a valid reason not to win.”

Calum still didn’t feel right about it. “You wanna give up rights to splash me with no splash backs?”

“Don’t worry. I’m giving it to you, man,” Michael give him a pat on the back. “We both know if I had functioning lungs you would never have stood a chance.”

Calum could accept it because of that though.

They took it easy from then on, just swimming around the edge of the pool. Looking at the show of fireflies as they filled the dark off in the distance. It was just so magical to see.

Calum found himself watching both the fireflies, and Michael’s reaction to them. His face was lit up and he had that wondrous smile that Calum had long since found contagious. Now he at least understood why...

He looked back out to the horizon.

“Life is so much better with you, Cal,” Michael spoke unexpectedly.

Calum turned to him, brows furrowed but in interest, “what do you mean.”

“I’m not saying the fireflies wouldn’t be here if you weren’t here, but I probably wouldn’t be at the pool to see them,” Michael said. “This has been the best summer I’ve ever had.”

Calum smiled. “Me too.”

“I know.”

The drive back to Michael’s was quiet. Both of them were exhausted and cold, but warming now that they were in dry clothes again. Calum looked at the moon and the soft flicker of fireflies in the distance, and listened to Michael’s gentle breathing as he napped.

Calum was relieved to find out that Michael wanted to go to sleep early. And when they had both showered the chlorine from their hair and body, they curled up on Michael’s bed. Calum could feel the waves of the pool still like he was floating on the water.

It was so real, like in closing his eyes he could imagine he was just floating in a warm bath.

He felt the bed shift a little and then felt Michael’s breath on his upper arm. “Cal?” Michael asked in an almost small voice.

Calum hummed in response.

“Can I ask you something and it not be weird?”

Calum opened his eyes at that. “Okay?”

“Can you—?” He stopped, “can you like... hold me while I go to sleep. It saves blanket space...”

Calum’s heart jolted at that. “Uh, y-yeah,” He cleared his throat.

“That’s not weird for you?” Michael asked. He could almost hear the blush rushing to Michael’s face.

“I don’t see why it would be,” Calum assured him softly, even though his own heart was racing. “I almost killed you in the pool, the least I can do is comfort you.”

Michael in response, scoot himself closer to Calum and wrapped himself in Calum’s arms resting a head on his chest. “Your heartbeat is heavy,” Michael whispered softly.

“High blood pressure.” It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the reason for his intense heartbeat this time. “It’s hereditary...”

Michael hummed in understanding. Whether or not he believed it he wasn’t giving away.

“I—. Uh... I liked your GIR shorts, by the way,” Calum said softly, and Michael giggled.

“You told me that already.”

“I know. Just wanted to give you a real compliment.”

Michael nodded. “Thank you,” Calum could hear the grateful smile.

He let himself breathe in the smell of Michael’s soap and was contented and elated and scared and everything all at once. He barely breathed, barely moved. He wanted to make Michael as comfortable as possible.

Somehow he felt like the whole summer had been leading up to this moment. The realization that he had new feelings for Michael, and then this. It seemed perfect, it seemed right. He never wanted the smell of Irish Spring to leave him. Or the warmth of Michael’s body. Or the sound of Michael’s breathing.

He held him gingerly, grazing soft innocent hands along Michael’s back. There was nothing else Calum would rather do than fall asleep with Michael in his arms for the rest of summer.

“Night, Cal,” Michael hummed contentedly. “Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Mikey.”

[anogete]

Bullet List of My Very Random Thoughts on Endgame

Don't click the keep reading link if you haven't seen the movie yet.  I don’t want to be responsible for ruining your first watch of the movie.  Serious, guys.  Only click if you’ve seen it.

I really enjoyed it and I'm happy to suspend my disbelief with almost all of the time travel plot element.  All things considered, it was masterfully executed and a beautiful love letter to the characters, movies, and fans.

My original six lovelies:

- Tony's arc was beautiful and heartbreaking but in a very satisfying way. I think most of us saw that one coming with the way IW set him up against Thanos.  It was that much more poignant when you saw he was happy with Pepper and their little girl but still couldn’t step away from helping make things right if he had the ability.  Pepper knew he couldn’t avoid involving himself despite not wanting to jeopardize his life with her, so her encouragement at the beginning and her comment to him right before he died (“We’re going to be okay. You can rest.”) just break my fucking heart.  So does Peter crying over a wounded and dying Tony, telling him they won.  Oh man.  The waterworks were something fierce.

- Nat was a surprise but packed a shockingly hard punch for me.  Maybe that was in part because it WAS a surprise and also because when we opened the movie she felt so fragile even though she was the one keeping the hope alive.  That moment with her sad little sandwich and the news about Clint being so far off the rails that Steve interrupts?  That alone made my heart hurt for her.  My stomach dropped when I saw her and Clint climbing the mountain on Vormir as I realized what had to happen to get the Soul Stone.  I was hopeful they could game the system and jump off the cliff together and both live, but I understand why this would cheapen it.  She always felt like the glue that kept all these big personalities and big egos together, so it hurts that she’s gone and the group has been fractured with Tony’s death and Steve being out of the game.

- As for Clint--I’m assuming he returns to the family man life unless something big comes up in the future.  I don’t know anything about Renner’s contract, but I’d like to see Hawkeye again.  The hair and the sword and the arms and tats and revenge attitude really did it for me.  How very dare they make him look this edible.

- Thor coping with grief by drinking beer (that beer belly, though!) and playing video games with Korg and Miek was actually refreshing and endearing.  I know some people didn’t like seeing him that way, but it gives his character so much depth.  Besides, he was back to his kickass self by the end of the movie.  I do love that he handed over New Asgard to Valkyrie to rule, and I hope we see him pop into movies in the future, especially with that adorable rivalry between him and Quill.

- Bruce and his newfound truce with Hulk was a delight to see and completely unexpected.  Also, Bruce/Hulk with the muscles and the voice and the five o’clock shadow and the glasses?  Ummmm...  ::is tempted to write Hulky Bruce smut::  I hope he’ll be in future movies.

- Steve.  Ahh, Steve.  I loved the fight with himself and the funny little winks to the viewers with the lines (America’s Ass, “I can do this all day”, “Hail Hydra”).  I loved that he was encouraging others to move on when he couldn’t seem to do so himself.  I LOVED him wielding Mjolnir, especially when the lightning started flying out of it.  Thor’s reaction to that (”I knew it!”) was adorable.  But, I’m torn with Steve’s storyline.  I wanted him to get his happily ever after.  I was dreading seeing him die in this movie, which I thought was definitely going to happen.  But what was so shocking to me was that he got exactly what I wanted him to get but it felt so cheap to me.  I left the movie satisfied with everything but the way they ended things with Steve, and yet I couldn’t seem to put my finger on why I started hating it the more I thought about it.  I know a ton of people are Stucky ‘shippers and, while I love his relationship with Bucky, I’ve never ‘shipped them together.  I’m not thrilled about the way they glossed over that relationship, but I understand the necessity because of time constraints.  I don’t mind that Steve handed the Shield off to Sam because I assumed either he or Bucky (or even both) would pick it up in Steve’s absence.  Bucky would have been a nice full circle between the two of them on their separate paths, but I also understand why it was given to Sam.  Bucky obviously knew exactly what was going on, though I thought the distance between him and Steve was a bit strange.  Maybe they were trying to make a point of showing that Steve and Bucky have both changed.  Whatever.  I can live with it, I  guess.  No one wanted Steve to get his happy ending more than me.  So, what gives?  I couldn’t figure out why it felt so wrong and cheap and like the worst kind of fan service.  @bulmavegotaku sent me THIS ARTICLE which actually articulates what has been bothering me.  Just because I wanted a happy ending for Steve doesn’t mean that it was what was best or even what was in-character for him.  I know other people thought that him hiding in the past to live his life with Peggy WAS in-character, but I don’t think it was at all.  And that’s not even to mention the fuckery with Peggy’s timeline.  Yeah, yeah, they left the question of who Steve married up in the air by not having him divulge that info when Sam asked, but I’m not stupid.  He says she’s the love of his life.  If he’s going back, he’s not going to share a dance with her and then go marry some other chick in the past.  Please.  And that makes Steve Sharon’s uncle.  Which is... weird and WTF.  But maybe they thought we’d forget all that since it is now an alternate reality or whatever.  So, Steve’s “ending” was the one major thing I really didn’t like.  I’m sure one day I’ll write some fic that branches off into an AU in which it didn’t happen that way.  It’s a little too fresh right now for me to tackle, though.  I need to get the bad taste out of my mouth.

Other things I liked:

- Nebula’s dynamic and (at times) heartbreaking storyline as we watched her internal struggle actually play out in front of us with two Nebulas.  My heart dropped when Rhodey was able to return to the present time on Earth, but she got trapped in the past with Thanos.  I’m so happy she survived.  Plus, her game of finger football with Tony was so goddamn endearing for both of them.

- Gamora being alive and the thought of watching her future interactions with Quill all over again.  I love the sexual tension and the chase for sure.  However, if past Gamora ends up in present time, then did all that stuff with Quill and the other Guardians even happen?  Her past self is in the present and so is Nebula’s past self.  Plus, Thanos plays a part (even if he’s off-screen) in much of the two Guardians movies, so if his past self died in the present, did this create some sort of alternate reality in which the things we witnessed didn’t actually happen in that way?  This kinda ties in with my dislike of Steve’s storyline.  Too much fucking with time travel begins to unravel the plot and create holes that I start picking at.

- Thanos turning to dust.  So so so satisfying.  What an absolutely arrogant turd.

- “On your left.”  What a wonderful moment when you heard Sam’s voice and saw T’Challa appear from that portal followed by all of the others.

- While I didn’t enjoy it, I did think the fight between Steve and an emaciated and exhausted Tony at the beginning of the movie was so well done and well-acted.  What a low point to climb out from.

- The scene in the beginning when they kill Thanos was also pretty low, but I thought a great way to start the movie.  You can kill the bad guy, but that won’t change all the bad he did.

- I feel like Scott Lang is all of us.  The scene with him outside when his taco blows away was so wonderful. And the scene in the diner when the kids want pics with Hulky Bruce, but not poor Antman.  So awkward and so funny.

- The closure that Tony got with his dad.  Oh man, that was the best and made even better because he was a father himself at that moment.  Thor being able to speak with his mother and move forward from that was also unexpected but so needed for his character, especially at that moment.

- While I love Carol Danvers and the Captain Marvel movie, I didn’t want her to come in and steal the show from the core group of Avengers as we ended this era of the movies.  I’m pleased with the way they used her to rescue Tony and Nebula and then go off to bring some order to the rest of the universe before returning to help in that final battle.

- Speaking of Carol--the scene during the battle when she takes the new gauntlet from Peter in an effort to get it away from Thanos and all the badass women fall in line behind her to assist brings a tear to my eye.  What made it even better is it caused the two bros seated beside me to mutter and wiggle uncomfortably in their chairs because it was obvious they didn’t really like that part.  As Beyonce would say, “Suck on my balls,” boys.

- Wanda’s white (red?) hot rage toward Thanos when she finally came toe-to-toe with him during the battle.  YES.  I was cheering her on.

- Steve’s ass.  Oh, I’m sorry America’s ass.

- Did I mention Steve wielding Mjolnir?

- Loki being the sneaky little snake he is and grabbing the Tesseract during the confusion when Tony gets hit by the flying door.  And Hulk screaming in frustration about how many stairs there are since he wasn’t allowed to ride on the elevator with everyone else.

- Bucky’s luxurious hair.  Although, I do want my beefy Civil War Bucky back.  On a side note, can someone please please please fix Sam’s facial hair before the next movie or show?  Please?  I do not like it at all.  Anthony Mackie, please go back to WS or CW facial hair.  I’m begging you.

I’m ready for more Guardians of the Galaxy featuring Thor.  I’m ready to finally watch the first Spiderman movie before the new one comes out.  (Don’t shoot me for not seeing it yet!) I’m pumped for more Carol as Captain Marvel.  I love the original characters the best, but I understand we have to move forward and I’m trying to embrace these new babies even though they aren’t Tony or Nat or Steve.  I’m consoling myself with Bucky and Sam right now.

And most of all, I’m excited to start writing again.  I started something last night, but I don’t want to give many details until I know if what I threw on the wall is going to stick.  If it does, then it’ll be Wintershock, take place after Endgame, and will probably be fluffy and free of life and death situations.  My heart can’t take any more of that between Endgame and Game of Thrones.  I’ll pop in periodically to keep anyone who cares updated on new material from me.  Can’t wait to see you again over on AO3 this summer!

[breeeliss]

[Miraculous Ladybug]: The Perks of Being a Rich Kid

short commission i did for @leoqueen082​ :) 

fun fact: people really forget that these two kids are filthy rich and probably run in the same circles all the time. which makes for some interesting convos :P

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: The Perks of Being a Rich Kid Pairings/Characters: Gen fic, Chloe & Alix Summary: Chloe and Alix bond after getting sent to the principal’s office

The Perks of Being a Rich Kid

Useful bit of information that Chloé learned today: there was a limit to how much trouble her last name was capable of getting her out of.

Which, seriously, how ridiculous was that? What was the sense of being the daughter of the most powerful man in Paris if she wasn’t going to be totally immune to punishment? She tried to explain that to her teacher but he didn’t seem to appreciate it very much because here Chloé was, getting sent to the principal’s office with a bag full of extra credit homework that was going to take her hours to do.

Sabrina really picked a horrible day to be home sick with the flu. Chloé had been doing her nails during history class this entire quarter and now she had to write a whole paper by Thursday.

To be fair, Chloé kinda toed the line a little close today. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone other than her father who was going to love an explanation for the mess she’d gotten herself into. That was going to be a fun conversation. She wasn’t sure if her justifiable hatred for Marinette Dupain-Cheng was going to be enough to let her off the hook, and that was the real travesty of the day. Because seriously, this was all Marinette’s fault.

But whatever. At least Chloé got her revenge. Definitely worth potentially losing her credit card privileges over.

M. Damocles was busy scolding a student in his office while another three sat right outside the door awaiting their own lectures. Chloé snorted when she realized that one of them was Alix who was crouched over her handheld and growling at the video game she was playing while she waited. Well, that explained why she wasn’t in class last period.

It was funny that people complained so much about Chloé (almost) never getting in trouble because of who her father was. Alix got sent to the principal’s office at least four times a week and only ever left with a slap on the wrist because of who her father was.

Figures. M. Kubdel gave a monster of a donation to the school last year.

Chloé laid her jacket down on the floor and sat down next to Alix. “You know he’s going to confiscate that when he comes back out here, right?”

“Eh, I’m already up shit creek as it is, can’t possibly get any worse.” She waited until she was finished passing the level she was on before she looked up. “The more interesting story is the fall from grace you must have suffered to be sitting out here with us.”

Chloé rolled her eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

“I can’t believe that the one time Chloé Bourgeois gets sent to the principal’s office, I miss it. Talk about shit luck. What’d you do? Curse out Mme. Mendeleiev because the lab goggles messed up your foundation?”

“Would you let that go?” Chloé glared. “And no, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Yikes,” Alix laughed. “Who’d you kill?”

“No one. It was a brief altercation.”

“Brief my ass. You wouldn’t be here if it was brief. Spill.”

Chloé shifted. “I...may...have gotten into a fight with Marinette.”

“Yeah, dude, that happens like every five seconds.”

“No like an actual fight. Like I might have lunged over the desk and yanked at her pigtails.”

Alix’s head snapped back as she cackled loud enough for it to echo all the way down the hallway. “No you did not!! You catty maniac!!”

“She called me a soulless hag!” Chloé defended. “How was I not going to put my hands on her?”

“You need a therapist,” Alix suggested. “Like I’m talking thousands of euros in anger therapy. You’re a liability.”

“Screw you. What are you here for?”

Alix shrugged. “Rollerblading in the courtyard. Kim dared me. Couldn’t say no.”

“You mean you did it because you knew you wouldn’t get in trouble for it.”

Alix pointed in Chloé’s face. “Hey, Damocles is afraid of my father because he needs to keep the donations coming. You make him afraid of yours. Don’t lump me together with you.”

“Please, just admit it,” Chloé smirked. “You’re a rich kid with perks.”

“Of course I’m a rich kid with perks. You, on the other hand, are a rich, annoying, prissy, spoiled kid with perks. And guess who everyone hates?”

Chloé gasped. “No one hates me!”

Alix stared at her for a long moment. “Dude….do not start with me right now.”

“They don’t!” Chloé insisted. “They just….they’re jealous. Because I’m famous and Daddy gets me whatever I want.”

“God, I’m gonna vomit. Here, open your bag so that I don’t get it on the floor.”

“Gross!! Stop it!! You’re such a freak!!”

“You sat down and started talking to this freak so joke’s on you, my dude.”

Chloé pursed her lips. “Force of habit. Don’t read into it. Besides, what’s your excuse?”

Alix squinted her eyes and tilted her head. “It’s weird because you’re like ridiculously annoying and I kinda wanna run over your face about ninety percent of the time, but the other ten percent of the time you’re oddly entertaining. Like if I needed a good laugh, all I’d have to do is insult your contour.”

“My contour is immaculate!”

“See?”

“Shut up.”

Alix stuck out her tongue. “I will say: the level of shade you dish out during all those benefit parties we hate going to sustains me.”

Chloé smirked. Their fathers had been friends for years —  long before M. Bourgeois got into politics and M. Kubdel became an art curator. That meant that every art exhibition, campaign fundraiser, charity gala, and Christmas party that either man decided to hold, you could bet that Chloé and Alix were both going to be there suffering through the entire thing with no one but each other for company. Alix told her that the momentary truce was worth listening to Chloé roast all the pathetically dull boys that always asked Chloé to dance, and Chloé had to admit that watching Alix threaten to scoop out old men’s eyeballs with a melon baller was quite satisfying.

“Daddy forces me to go to those parties because he wants me to be nice to the sons of all the politicians he tries to cozy up to,” Chloé shrugged. “Not that I don’t want to see him reelected, but I only have so much patience.”

Alix shrugged. “I think my mom just wants to see me in a dress for once. Everytime I shop in the boy’s section she has an aneurism. It’s great.”

Chloé nudged her. “Remember that time you panicked and invited me over to your house because you had to get ready for our New Years’ party and you had no idea how to do your makeup?”

“Um,” Alix glared, “the whole point of that momentary lapse of judgement was that we were never supposed to talk about it. Like ever. To no one.”

“Who doesn’t know how to put on mascara? I learned that when I was ten.”

“Not everyone sleeps with a Lanc ô me palette under their pillow, Chloé . But anyway. I had a point I was arriving at before you distracted me.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

Alix ignored her sarcasm and waved her in closer so that the other students in the hallway wouldn’t hear them. “I have to ask because sometimes I think your stupidity is genuine and not you pretending to avoid conversations that bother you. You... do know that no one in class likes you, right?”

Chloé straightened her shoulders. “That’s not true. Adrien and Sabrina like me.”

“Sabrina doesn’t count, she’ll shine your shoes if it meant getting on your good side. And Adrien likes you because that kid’s got too much faith in the world and thinks you’re gonna do a huge turn around any day now. Everyone else low key wants to smash your face through a window everytime you so much as open your mouth.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Alix lifted her hands. “Listen, I’m being honest with you. And I’m only telling you this because I happen to know that you’re not a total brat.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when we go to those parties? You’re like...not awful. You’re kinda tolerable to be around. I think it’s because there you’re not trying to impress anybody and here you’re forcing everyone to kiss the ground you walk on because you value your school reputation over all else. You try too hard and you come off as a total pain in the ass. It’s starting to seriously piss everyone off.”

Chloé blinked. That was a disturbingly thoughtful answer, especially coming from Alix. “Since when are people pissed off at me?”

Alix’s face fell. “Are you seriously that clueless?”

“If people were so mad about my behavior, they’d tell me,” Chloé reasoned. “Marinette’s the only one who hates me as far as I can tell.”

“That’s because Marinette’s a badass who isn’t afraid to say what everyone else is thinking,” Alix pointed out. “They just don’t want to say it themselves.”

“Why wouldn’t they want to say it?”

Alix rubbed her hands down her face and groaned, slapping her cheeks a little at the end. “Ahhh, okay, okay, you’re blonde so I guess I have to dumb this down for you.”

“Oh screw you!”

She snapped her fingers. “Okay. You know that Italian art collector that my dad invites to art exhibitions all the time? M. Fellini.”

Chloe pouted. “Not ringing a bell.”

“He’s the one that always sounds like he has a sinus infection.”

Chloe face lit up. “Oh my god, yes!”

The joke was fresh in their minds because they both pinched their noses, lifted their chins, and said “Ah, buonasera mademoiselles, don’t you just look lovely this evening!” before collapsing into laughter when they heard how ridiculous they sounded. Honestly, that never got old. Chloé was half tempted to tell her father to send him some cold medicine for Christmas.

Alix rubbed away the tears from her eyes. “Anyway. We can agree he’s a total asshole, right?”

“He’s an old, skeezy, misogynistic snob. Asshole is too tame an insult.”

“Everyone and their mother is on the same page as you,” Alix explained. “But no one ever says that to him. People either ignore him or keep being nice to him no matter how much they wanna punch his face in.”

“I’m assuming there’s a point in you bringing him up.”

“People don’t confront him about being a jerk because he’s one of the richest and most successful art curators in Italy. Insult him and you can say goodbye to doing any kind of meaningful work with him in. Which, in the art world, is social suicide. It’s the same with you.”

Chloé scowled. “You’re comparing me to that wrinkled old sack of broken dreams?”

“It’s a perfect comparison. You got Alya suspended for taking a picture and you tried to get Marinette arrested for supposedly stealing your bracelet. Like, come on dude. People are terrified of you.”

Chloé crossed her arms. “They both deserved that! Alya was invading my privacy and there’s still no proof that Marinette wasn’t involved in that whole bracelet nonsense.”

“And I’m assuming Marinette also deserved you attacking her in class today and that you sitting here is an injustice to humanity. Pretty sure Damocles and your dad are gonna totally side with you when they hear you put your hands on someone because she said something a little mean.”

Chloé looked down at her nails. “You’re being sarcastic…”

“Yeah no shit, queen bee,” Alix scolded. “Here’s a wild concept: if you want to make friends, you have to actually be nice to people. Crazy, I know! Life hack of the year!”

“I try to be nice to people!” Chloé said. “But you’ve got people like Marinette who — ”

“Nope,” Alix interrupted. “Stopping you right there. Marinette has never done anything to you. Marinette’s a freaking angel. She’s nice to everyone who’s nice to her back. The only reason you hate her is because she’s more popular than you are, so you overcompensate by trying to make yourself seem like you’re better than everyone else. Except that doesn’t make anyone want to be friends with you. That makes people wanna stay away from you.”

It was only because Alix lecturing Chloé was such a bizarre occurrence that Chloé stayed quiet and let her words sink in. She wanted to brush it off and assume that Alix was just over exaggerating the situation, but then Chloé remembered a conversation she had with Adrien during his first week of school. She warned him about how hard it was to make friends when you were as perfect, beautiful, and rich as they were because everyone was automatically jealous of your success. That was why it was so important for Chloé and Adrien to stick together because she thought he’d suffer the same fate she did. But Adrien was as quiet, polite, and soft hearted as he’d always been as a kid, and that seemed to have waltzed him straight into the hearts of everyone else in the class in a matter of days. Chloé hadn’t quite figured out how he did that or how she was supposed to follow in his footsteps.

Chloé had always been more abrasive than Adrien — louder, more sarcastic, and harder to get along with. Maybe that was the problem. Although, Alix seemed to do just fine on her end.

She flipped the questions around. “Well, how did you make friends?”

Alix shrugged. “It’s not like I tried. I don’t act different depending on the situation. I just am and people just come. Kim was my first friend because we loved competing with each other. Then Kim’s friends became my friends and it just kept going.”

“That’s what Adrien said…”

“That’s pretty much how everyone makes friends,” Alix said. “Putting people down to lift yourself up doesn’t make people starstruck by you. It just makes you seem like a bitch.”

Chloé sighed. “Daddy says that in politics, in order to win, you have to show how bad the other candidates are in order to make yourself seem better. That’s why people vote for you.”

“This isn’t politics. Making friends isn’t about crushing the competition. You just….act normal and find people that vibe with your flow. Like I said. You’re chill when you aren’t trying too hard.”

“Seriously?”

Alix grinned. “You’re surprisingly hilarious. You’re also an enabler and a bad influence, but that’s a check in my book. Gotta appreciate people who talk you into stealing a thousand euros worth of silverware just to see if you can get away with it.”

“Can’t believe you actually did that,” Chloé laughed.

“Hey, like I said. I can’t turn down a challenge.” She paused for a moment and nudged her foot against Chloé’s knee when she saw her growing quiet. “Hey. I’m not telling you this stuff to make you feel bad or anything. I’m just telling it to you straight. But I also think you can do a turn around and start being nicer to people and make more friends if you cared enough to. You’re stubborn enough to pull it off.”

Alix wasn’t the type of person to put in this much emotional labor into another person, and Chloé knew that the polite thing to do was to at least thank her. But the words felt awkward on her tongue and betrayed her inexperience, so she decided it was best to just not say anything for now. Instead, she followed up with a question that was bugging her. “Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Dude,” Alix snickered. “You got sent to the principal's office . That’s like the turning point of the century. Might as well take advantage of the momentum and use it towards something productive.”

The door to M. Damocles’s office flung open before Chloé could say anything else, and the student he’d been speaking to slunk through the hall with his head down and a slip of paper crumpled up in his hands. Probably a letter for his parents to sign. “Mlle. Kubdel!” M. Damocles’s voice rang. “It’s your turn. Please come in.”

Alix winced as she collected her bag and stood on her feet. “Womp. Time to face the music. Wish me luck.”

“You know damn well you’re not going to get in any trouble.”

“Wow, fine, I’ll wish myself luck.” She held out her fist. “Hang in there, you frilly little nightmare. If you apologize and cry a lot he’ll probably go easy on you.”

Chloé gently tapped her fist against Alix’s and have her a crooked smile. “Alright.”

Alix gave her a short salute before throwing her arms wide and skipping into M. Damocles’s office as if she were greeting an old friend. Chloé shook her head fondly and tried to think of what excuse she was going to open up with before it was her turn to go inside and explain herself. If spontaneously bursting into tears was all it would take to walk away with nothing more than a stern warning, Chloé was fully prepared to polish off all those acting lessons she took when she was little.

She hummed to herself as she pulled out her phone and started typing out her script. “Turning point, huh?” she muttered. Chloé was pretty sure Alix didn’t mean for that to be a challenge, but for some reason Chloé wanted to treat it like one. Alix’s specialty was planting seeds in people’s heads and sitting back while she watched them try to pull off the impossible. Chloé could always resent the fact that Alix was trying to get in her head, but it would be much more satisfying to exceed the girl’s expectations just so she could shove it in her face.

If Chloe could convince Alix to sit still long enough to put eyeliner on her for a party, she could handle being nice for one day, right?

[itspatsy]

you're out on the bottomless sea

Summary: All Jessica wanted was some pizza rolls, but first she had to peel a drug-addled teen idol off the floor. (or: everything good Trish ever learned, she learned from Jessica.)

Read at AO3. 

Jessica trudged through the door, boots dragging and bookbag crashing against the marble floor of the foyer. Dorothy would've scolded her about making scuff marks, but sadly, what she didn't see wouldn't hurt her. It was Friday and time to toss off the week's bullshit, so she made a beeline for the kitchen with a hankering for some inexplicably delicious cardboard flavored junk food. At least that was the plan. But of course, bullshit was inescapable in the Walker home, and as she passed by the sitting room, she saw something that forced to stop in her tracks.

She sighed dramatically. Maybe next time, Totino’s. As much as pizza rolls of questionable nutritional value called to her, she figured she should probably do something about the busted up, glassy eyed child star slumped by the couch.

Again.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence lately, and it pissed Jessica off each and every time. Not so much at Trish. They had reached something of a truce, a friendship even. They weren't some twee secret sharing bosom buddies kind of shit or whatever, but what they had was still… nice. It was good to have a friend. Jessica had always hung out with a small group of other social outcasts, but they were never tight, and they got all weird when she came back to school after the accident. She and Trish hadn’t known each other before that and had only gone to the same school in the barest sense of the word. Trish was usually away filming or doing publicity, and they ran in entirely different social circles when she was actually there. Jessica had assumed she was some stuck up, empty-headed, spoiled rich kid with an oversized ego and probably a cocaine habit to match.

But as it turned out, it wasn't as easy for her to hate on a spoiled rich kid when the kid was doing all the work and when she was living in the kid’s house benefiting from the money. And mercifully, Trish herself turned out to be different than Jessica expected. She wasn’t entirely wrong with her first impression: Trish was more than capable of being a snarky, sneering brat, and while she didn’t really mess around with illegal drugs, she was never far from a pill bottle, but she was also cool and whip smart and funny and good-hearted. And her taste in music was actually pretty decent, all explosive angry girl rock, not the mind-numbing bubblegum pop Jessica had anticipated. Really, nothing about Trish was as bad as she anticipated. And honestly, who was she to pass judgement on an occasional streak of bitchery? She wasn’t that lacking in self-awareness. She'd have to hate herself too. Or, you know... hate herself even more than she already did. Whatever the case, she liked Trish, and it was hard to be angry at her.

Her mother was another matter altogether. Dorothy Walker was a dangerous whack job and a nightmare to live with. Jessica was able to get by mostly unscathed because Dorothy just... didn't give a shit about her, and she was honestly glad for it, even though she knew it definitely wasn't how adoptions were supposed to go. Trish, meanwhile, was always directly in her path of destruction. Getting slammed into a wall by a superpowered teenage freak might have spooked Dorothy, but apparently nothing could stop her from being a calculating, child abusing assclown. Jessica could threaten and intimidate, but she couldn’t be there every time Dorothy was near Trish, and the woman had her own leverage now that she knew of Jessica’s powers. The fact of the matter was, Jessica was an orphan kid with nothing to her name, and Dorothy was rich, powerful, and well-lawyered. She only had so many options available to her while living under the Walker roof.

And two of those options right now were A.) eating some goddamn pizza rolls or B.) peeling Trish off the floor. As always, option B won out. But she didn't have to be nice about it, so she stomped into the room, bent down, and roughly shook Trish’s leg. “Hey! You alive?”

It took a moment, but Trish turned her head in Jessica’s general direction and grinned. The bloody nose and busted lip colored her teeth red, and her sunken, glazed eyes stood out even more against her ashen complexion. It was kind of creepy. Like Night of the Living Dead creepy. Jessica pulled back her hand, ready to throw a punch in case Trish had suddenly developed a more carnivorous diet.

Her brains appeared safe, as Trish finally slurred out, “Oh, hey, it’s Jessie. Real nice to see you, Jessie. Where’ve yoooou been all day?”

Jessica inwardly cringed at the nickname. That was a Dorothy thing. Trish didn’t use it unless she was being a condescending ass and trying to pick a fight. “At school.”

“Oh, yeah, school. Like the normal kids do.” Trish looked contemplative for a moment. “But then why were you there? Shouldn’t you be in the ‘gifted’ program?”

Trish giggled at her own stupid joke, and Jessica rolled her eyes. She grabbed Trish’s arm and hoisted her off the floor, maybe a little more harshly than strictly necessary. She lurched forward into Jessica, unable to keep her feet about her, and Jessica shoved her onto the sofa. She crashed back into the cushion, still giggling.

Jessica sneered. “You look like shit. Maybe I should take pictures, send ‘em to the tabloids. How much do you think they’d pay to get proof that perfect Patsy Walker is just another drug-addled fuck up of a child star?”

Trish’s eyes turned hard, or as hard as her strung out state would allow, which was pretty unimpressive, frankly. A fly could knock her ass over right now, and she was a scrawny thing even on a good day. “Fuck off, Jessica,” she growled, but her baby bird voice just further undermined any intimidation factor. It was honestly just sad.

And ugh, okay, fiiiiine. Maybe what she said was kind of low. She thought all the anger was for Dorothy, but maybe she was kind of angry at Trish too. Not for the bleeding on the carpet, obviously, but more the part where she was blitzed out of her fucking mind, and Jessica was the one left dealing with it again. Though she knew the drug habit wasn’t exactly Trish’s fault either, and that just made her feel more guilty for being a dick to her when she was in her "most vulnerable state" or whatever psychological mumbo jumbo a shrink would've called it.

As they'd gotten closer, Jessica had gotten the low-down on the pills, and in an utterly unsurprising turn of events, Dorothy's negligent parenting featured heavily. Basically, Trish once had a panic attack on set when she was 13, so Dorothy took her to the doctor, and she was prescribed an anti-anxiety medication. Pretty standard and what you might expect from a decent parent, right? Of course, when it happened a few more times, Dorothy took her back and made the doctor up the dosage to eleven. By that point, Trish was practically a zombie on set, and that just wasn’t acceptable either. So then came Adderall in an attempt to offset the effect of the benzo, which was insane but also classic Dorothy, and hey, as it turned out you could get more work out of a girl that was hyped on speed, and it just snowballed from there.

Trish told Jessica she resisted at first, said she hated the way the meds made her feel. But as it almost always did, Dorothy's browbeating and bullying prevailed. Now Trish took them willingly, gratefully even. And too damn often, in Jessica's opinion. It wasn't as bad when Dorothy was off schmoozing with producers and ignoring them for days on end, but if the mom-ster spent any time hovering on set or at home, Trish would start popping pills, which led to fucks ups, which led to more abuse from Dorothy, which led to more pill popping until Trish could barely string a sentence together or was bouncing off the walls. It was a fucked up cycle, and it was getting worse. She'd come home one too many times to find Trish slumped at the kitchen table or, like, flying around the room talking a mile a minute and waving a bleeding hand because she hadn't realized how hard she was holding a glass.

It was becoming a problem. Like, the kind of capital P problem that would result in a Very Special Episode in some 80s sitcom, and it was not something Jessica was equipped to deal with. She could absolutely see the appeal of being barely conscious when Dorothy Walker was breathing down your neck, but she dreaded the possibility of finding the least annoying person she knew dead on the floor from an overdose. And maybe she took her fear out on Trish sometimes, and maybe that wasn’t fair, but maybe it also wasn't fair that she had to worry about her friend dying like that.

Whatever it was, being mean to Trish always made her feel like a creep, so she sighed, resigned to her fate. “Stay here. I’m gonna get something to clean you up with.” She went to the bathroom and grabbed a few wash clothes, wetting them in the sink. Then she grabbed the first aid kit. She looked longingly at the kitchen as she passed it on her way back.

Trish hadn’t moved at all.

Jessica sat beside her and brought the washcloth up to her chin slowly. She jerked away, apparently surprised even though Jessica had telegraphed her intention. She brushed her fingers through Trish's hair a little to ease her, then held the back of her head and brought her face to the cloth, gently wiping at the dried blood. It didn’t look as bad with the blood gone, but it wasn’t great either. No broken nose, but her left eye was already beginning to bruise, and the lip would take a few days to heal.

“Isn't there some rule about hitting you in the face or something? Or is your mom trying to change the theme song? 'I wanna be your abuse poster child’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it."

There was a long silence, and Jessica worried she might have pushed too far. Trish had a dark sense of humor that could rival her own, but it had to be the right moment. And maybe the right moment wasn’t just after getting her face smashed by her shitty mom. Or maybe it was, because Trish smirked and let out a chuckle.

"Haven’t you heard? Bruised is the new black. She’s just making sure I stay up to date with the latest fads.” The smirk dropped, and she ran a tentative tongue across the cut on her swollen lip. “Anyway, we wrapped for the season, and I don't have any public engagements coming up for now. So." She gestured to her face.

“What about school?”

Trish shrugged. “She’ll just keep me out for a few days if it’s not healed enough by Monday. The school doesn’t really know the filming schedule, and it’s not like they’ll ask the set tutor. Besides, makeup does wonders.”

That was true enough. Trish had an assortment of methods to hide the bruises, though they weren’t usually so obviously placed as her face. A little concealer here and there, bracelets, sleeves, scarves. Jesus, scarves ga-freaking-lore. People probably thought it was some trendy statement piece, and "gosh, that Patsy Walker is just so fashionable, isn't she?" but really Dorothy just liked a go for the neck.

She wasn't as subtle as she liked to pretend either. People knew. They had to. Sometimes they added to it, like the crapass producers that nodded along to Dorothy's sniping comments about the rail thin starlet standing to lose a few more pounds. Everyone else just let it happen. The doctors that prescribed enough medication to down a grizzly bear, let alone a tiny teenage girl. The directors that waved off Dorothy's cloying "please excuse us" smiles and pretended not to hear the yelling through the office door. The actors that saw their co-star flinch every time her mother walked on set. The make up artists and costumers that covered the bruises. The set tutors that didn’t even argue when Dorothy cut lessons shorter and shorter. Hell, even the craft table workers that watched her smack a cupcake out of Trish's hand and shove a handful of celery at her. Not a word from any of them.

Then there were the agents and publicists, working double time to cover it up and keep it quiet, making sure the Patsy brand and origins stayed shiny and wholesome, the American Dream at work. Such humble beginnings, just a little girl and her mom, poor but hardworking, rising to fame and fortune with a little luck. A great American success story, and a girl who could be you.

Trish didn't want their help, didn't want anyone saving her, but Jessica didn't know how they all stood by and pretended to ignore it. She guessed that was how the entertainment industry had always worked, its golden legacy, abuse or at least a blind eye to it for the sake of one more dollar. Most of them likely didn't care at all. And the ones who did were probably too scared to speak out for fear they would conjure the all-powerful, fire-breathing industry lawyers that would force them out of their jobs, destroy their reputation, and leave them with nothing. Money grubbing or apathy or self-preservation, whatever the reason, they all relied on the It's Patsy cash cow and didn't dare disturb the unspoken balance.

How did you fight a system so full of structured indifference and greed and self-protection? Jessica figured you didn't fight it. You just tried to escape it with whatever scraps of yourself you could carry with you. She knew Trish had the strength to make it out, but she worried more and more each day what would be left of her when she did.

“Where did Mommy Dearest get to anyway?” she asked.

Trish inspected her nails, appearing completely disinterested. “Passed out drunk by the pool? Tormenting some producer’s beleaguered assistant? Giving blowjobs to the entirety of the Teen Choice Awards voting panel? I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

Jessica almost smiled. “Can’t we dig up some evidence against her or something? Tax evasion? Embezzlement? I mean, she’s done worse, but sometimes you gotta catch them with the smaller stuff. Like Capone, ya know?”

Trish made a mock scandalized face. "C'mon, Jess, don’t talk about her that way. When Mom's not smacking me around, piling me with pills, shoving my own fingers down my throat, pimping me out, hoarding my money, or adopting kids for publicity and then ignoring their existence, she's…” Jessica raised a questioning eyebrow and Trish smirked, continuing, “...still a total hellspawn incapable of human empathy or feeling."

Jessica laughed. “Truer words.”

If her coherence and vocabulary were anything to go by, Trish was sobering up, which was good as far as Jessica was concerned. Apparently not so much as far as Trish was concerned, since she was stretching an arm to the end table where her pill bottles were scattered.

"Hey." Jessica reached out and stopped her, knowing it was probably going to provoke a fight but not giving a shit. "Don’t."

“Don’t what?” Trish snapped.

“I think you’ve had enough already. What do you even need them for? She’s not here.” But I'm here, she wanted to say. Stay here with me.

Trish scoffed, shaking her head. "God, what do you even care, Jess? What difference does it make to you?" 

Of course, she just had to be right about it starting a fight, and now bitter, belligerent Trish was in full action. Always a pleasure, that one. Hadn't they just been cracking jokes and laughing? Things always turned on a dime in this house. But shit, Jessica could be snotty too. “Because then I have to clean up the mess.”

Trish rolled her eyes. “Oh, come off it. You don’t have to do anything. You could just skulk around your room, stick on some headphones, ignore it all. But you don’t. You've never been able to keep your nose out of it." Jessica was still holding Trish's arm, could feel the tension, see her fist clinched tightly. Her nails weren't long, but it was enough to leave little red moon crescents on her palm. She did it often, and Jessica knew it had to sting. Which was probably the point. 

"What's all this about? What do you really want?” Trish asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Goddamn, now she was acting paranoid. This was quickly escalating into uncharted territory. Jessica shrugged a shoulder, trying to remain casual, but she was becoming increasingly agitated herself. "I don’t know. Aren't we supposed to be family now or whatever? Isn’t that what family does for each other?"

"Family?" Trish sneered. "What do you even know about family?"

Okay. Okay, then. It was just a day of low blows, wasn't it? Trish was usually careful not to mention Jessica’s family unless Jessica brought it up first. Which was basically never. For a damn good reason. Seriously. Shit. Just... shit. It wasn't... what the fuck? It felt like her head was collapsing in on itself and her skin was was trying to peel itself off, and okay, yeah, casual was out the window now, it flew the nest and got swiped out of the sky by a feral cat.

Trish made to push her off but she held tight. Held hard. Harder than she intended or realized. She wasn't there, and she didn't know. Trish gasped in pain, and Jessica quickly let go, coming back to reality. But now she had a different reason to want to throw herself in a hole and collapse the dirt around her. Red marks were already forming on Trish's wrist, as if she needed more bruises. Except this time it was Jessica that caused them. What was wrong with her? Why did she always fuck everything up? Why did she always cause the most harm to the people she loved?  

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't--"

Trish laughed sharply, like acid burning through concrete, and it made Jessica feel even sicker. If they were already filled up with this ugly bitterness and self-loathing, how would there ever be room left in them for anything else?

"Why apologize?" Trish asked. "I'll probably just think it's from Mom in the morning anyway. Well, assuming you don’t flush my pills or something, since you’re suddenly so concerned about it."

Jessica felt a surge of anger, but it wasn't at herself this time. Fuck guilt. This wasn't her fault. This wasn't even about her. She was just trying to do the decent thing, and she was getting crucified for it, getting her dead family thrown in her face. It was so goddamn typical. She tried to keep her voice even and measured, and she just barely managed to grit out, “I’m just trying to help you.”

“Well, I never asked for your help," Trish snapped. "Just leave me alone already!”

“God, would you shut up!” Jessica shouted, jumping to her feet and just done, done with all the bullshit, the self-pitying destruction. It was selfish. So fucking selfish.

Trish flinched and hunched in on herself, obviously anticipating some withering verbal assault or a raised hand. Usually Jessica would've felt terrible for causing a reaction like that, for making Trish feel unsafe, but this time it just spurred her anger further. She prowled the floor. “Has that stupid wig cut off circulation to your brain? What don't you get about this? Is it really so crazy that I’m tired of finding you passed out? That I’m worried one day you won’t wake up? That I hate that nothing I do seems to help? Well, excuse me if that's too goddamned pushy for you! I don't give a shit. I'm not going sit around with my thumb up my ass while you kill yourself.”

Trish looked at her, wide-eyed, taken aback by the outburst. And a little guilty. Good. Maybe she was finally getting through that thick fucking skull. She came to a stop in front of Trish, calmer. “You know what? I think I get some of it now. This snotty tantrum of yours. I bet you don’t even know how to deal with this, do you?”

Trish took a troubled breathe. "With what?" she asked, voice barely audible.

“Someone caring about you. You asked what I know about family? Well, I know a whole lot more than you, asshole. My parents loved me unconditionally even when I was being a whiny shit. And my brother was an obnoxious little dweeb, but I would've done anything for him. Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean I don’t remember what it’s like to have a family and be loved, okay?"

Trish looked absolutely fucking miserable now. She opened her mouth to make excuses, to apologize, to something, but Jessica didn't care. She wasn't finished. "You're the one who doesn't know anything about family, all right? You don't know anything about being loved or loving someone. You don't know shit. You’re used to people wanting something from you."

Trish couldn't even look at her now. She was doing everything possible to sink further into the couch, make herself small and weightless, just dissolve herself right out of existence. But Jessica wasn't going to let her, not now and not ever.

“Look at me, please." Trish didn't move, so she grabbed her shoulders and shook them a little. Finally, Trish turned her head up to meet Jessica's eyes, and shit, she was crying, she'd never seen her cry before. But there was no walking this back now, so she pressed on. "Listen. I like you for you, and I don’t want anything from you except to be your friend, okay?"

Trish just looked at her, tears rolling down her cheeks, jaw clenched tight, and body trembling lightly. But there was hope in her eyes, like she couldn't believe what Jessica was offering but so badly wanted it. Jessica brought her hand up to wipe away a tear with her thumb. "Okay?" she repeated, gently. She didn't really know where this well of tenderness was coming from, when she'd become capable of it, but it seemed to work. After a long moment, Trish nodded. She raised her hands, one pulling Jessica's away to grasp it and the other wiping at her face.

Touching Trish like this, holding her hand, Jessica realized it was the most physical contact she'd had in awhile. Dorothy almost never touched her, except for photo ops, and that had decreased as public interest in the adoption waned… and after Jessica slammed her into the wall. She was fine with it, preferred it even. She didn't need to be touched. Did she miss the feeling of her mother running fingers through her hair or rubbing her back? Her dad kissing her forehead or playfully tugging at her ear? Or even her brother's arms around her neck, choking the life out of her during a begged for piggyback ride? Of course, she missed it, but that wasn't her life anymore. It wasn't fair, but she just had to accept it. Maternal affection from Dorothy Walker left a lot to be desired anyway. She touched Trish all the time. Shoving and prodding and squeezing and pulling. Dorothy hugged her sometimes, if there were cameras around or to use as a subtle warning gesture in public, arm across a shoulder and nails digging in hard enough to leave marks under her shirt.

She thought maybe Trish could use a real hug. She thought maybe she could too.

Before she could have second thoughts about it, Jessica sighed and sat back on the couch alongside Trish. "This is going to be awkward, but I'm going to hug you now, okay?"

Trish blinked at her, eyes still red. “Ummm... how about you don’t do that?”

Jessica went for it anyway.

She was right. It was awkward. She didn't really remember how to hug. Last her parents were alive, she'd been the epitome of disinterested, disgruntled teenager, giving half-hearted pats on the back or dodging hugs entirely because they were lame. She regretted it now, wishing more than anything she could take her parents and her brother in her arms again. But hindsight didn't mean much, except to help her appreciate what was in front of her, so she put all of that feeling into holding the person in her arms now. She felt hesitant hands on her back, and then finally arms coming round her sides, squeezing hard, desperately.

They stayed like that for a long minute, until she felt Trish wince. She pulled back, worried she hurt her again.

"It's okay." Trish waved a hand dismissively, but her other hand went to her side. Knowing she wasn't going to be able to brush it past Jessica so easily, she added, "It wasn't you."

Jessica knocked the hand out of the way and went for the hem of Trish's shirt.  Ignoring her protests, she lifted it up and found a bruise across her ribs. Unlike a few yellowish marks littering her back, this one was red, fresh. It was going to look brutal in a few days and would definitely hurt like hell. Jessica once again found herself caught between violent anger and weary resignation, the most popular emotional exports of the Walker household. But Trish didn't need her rage and righteous indignation, especially not right now, so she settled for a scoff instead. 

"Christ, man, did she hit you with a chair?" Trish grinned wryly, a little blood left on her teeth. "What is this, the WWE? Nah, it's more like..." she paused and poshed-up her accent into a snooty English cadence, "Ms. Walker with a Nickelodeon blimp in the library."

"How is Clue better than the WWE?" asked Jessica, skeptically.

Trish turned up her nose. "It's more classy."

Jessica chuckled, relieved they were back to joking. All this talking about feelings shit, having to actually verbalize what she felt in her blood and her bones, it was way past her comfort zone, and it was freaking exhausting. But snark she could do. "Maybe one day we’ll get lucky and find Dorothy hanging from the studio rafters with the Patsy wig around her neck."

Trish smacked at Jessica's leg in excitement. “Oh! Or come home to find her tragically crushed beneath a Teen Choice Awards surfboard.”

They broke out into laughter and started coming up with the wildest, most outlandish, and comical death scenarios they could imagine. Maybe it was messed up to joke about Dorothy dying, and maybe they were sick fucks for even thinking it. Or maybe it was just the best way to deal with all the shit. Gallows humor, right? Catharsis. It felt good to laugh, and it made everything feel a little less hopeless, like things didn't always have to be this way.

Eventually, their laughter turned to wheezing giggles and finally contented sighs. In their hysterics, they'd ended up pressed close, shoulder to shoulder, legs twisted together. Trish grabbed her hand again with both of her own, holding it so carefully and gently, as if she was some rare, precious thing, and maybe that was exactly what she was to Trish.

"Hey, Jess? Earlier... you said you feel like nothing you do helps. But that's not true. Just you being here and like... actually caring about what happens to me? It makes a difference. I know there's finally somebody on my side. Is that what family's supposed to feel like?"

Yeah, that was it. Jessica squeezed her hands back, knowing that would be answer enough. Then she cleared her throat and asked, “Want me to get the Saran Wrap?”

Trish smiled, her head dropping to the side and resting on Jessica’s shoulder. “In a little while.”

[least-among-hamiltons]

Falsettos Starters (Act 2)

(this didn’t exist so im making it myself)

Falsettoland/About Time

*curtain opens* Homosexuals

Come back in… the welcome mat is on the floor

Let's begin… this story needs an ending

Lovers come and lovers go, lovers fight and sing fortissimo

Give these handsome boys a hand

What a world we live in

Pretty boys are in demand

It's about time to grow up and face the music

We called a truce and fitfully we coexist

So I don't have a psychiatrist except on the Jewish holidays

But I don't have a lover anymore… Oh my G-d, when am I gonna get over this?

It's about growing up, getting older, living on a lover's shoulder, learning love is not a crime… it's about time

Year of the Child

Since this is the last loving thing we'll probably ever do together, let's act adult and not go crazy

It's a lesbian from next door, followed by her lover who's a lesbian from next door too!

The Baseball Game

You’re looking sweeter than a donut

He looks damn good, but he’s cheap as dirt

Even maniacs can charm, which he does, so beware

When he smiles that smile, avoid him, or else sound the alert!

How could I know, without him, my life would be boring as shit?

Please, God, don’t let me make the same mistake!

Would it be possible to see you, or to kiss you, or to give you a call?

A Day in Falsettoland

Could this– oh G-d, don't say it is– could this be the new world we started?

I once thought it was sweet but I don't anymore, now I just snore

Why should I be wilting when their precious love is not in doubt? Work it out!

I don't get it, why can't you let go?

Maybe in a mile, I'll be okay

Everything will be alright

For the first time in months, nobody died

Saving lives, I feel invincible, yes I do

Do you know how great my life is, saving lives and loving you

That's not nice

Where's the heat, where's the fire? Used to be you desire to fight, so fight!

Just give in to bliss and kiss...

Do you know, all I want is you; anything you do is alright, yes, it's alright

Play it raw, don't play pretty; sex and games in [place] have got to be played with flair and passion, and passion and flair

The Fight

I am just a little kid, not a commuter

It's not a wrestling match, why are they sweating?

It's not a funeral, what's so upsetting?

Arguing takes work

You're gonna blame me? You have paintings of dicks, don't talk to me about taste!

Look, I'm calm and self-deluded, grateful, 'cause I hope you'll do what I pray you'll do

What More Can I Say

It's been hot, also very sweet, and I'm not usually indiscreet, but when he sparkles the earth begins to sway… what more can I say?

How can I express how confused am I by our happiness?

If I say I love him, you might think my words come cheap… let's just say, I'm glad he's mine

It's been hot, also, it's been swell; more than not, it's been more than words can tell

I halt, I stammer, I sing a roundelay… what more can I say?

I'll stay calm, untie my tongue

I was taught, never brag or shout; still, it's hot just like how you read about… and also caring and never too uncouth… that's the simple truth

Can you tell I have been revised? It's so swell, damn it, even I'm surprised

We laugh, we fumble, we take it day by day… what more can I say?

Something Bad is Happening

If I'm a bitch, well, I am what I am!

Something bad is happening, something very bad is happening, something so bad that words have lost their meaning!

Rumors fly and tales abound, stories echo underground!

Go ahead and wound my pride

This is fucking ridiculous!

More Racquetball

Let me live, please forgive me for winning one game

Be a jerk, my sweet bruiser, try to be a decent loser, at least you could give me that!

Do you know all I want is you? Anything you do is alright, yes, it's alright, everything will be alright

Holding to the Ground

I smile, I don't complain, I'm trying to keep sane as the rules keep changing

Life is never what you planned; life is moments you can't understand, and that is life

I hold to the ground as the ground keeps shifting, keeping my balance square, trying not to care about this man who [name] loves

Holding to the ground as the ground keeps shifting; trying to keep sane as the rules keep changing; keeping up my head as my heart falls out of sight… everything will be alright

Days Like This

Why, I'm up to my ass in a kosher morass!

Gee, you look awful, I think you need to play some chess

Cancelling the Bar Mitzvah

If you think it's bust then it's probably just as well

We can't be sure when he'll get better; when, or if, he'll ever get better

What we'll do is your decision, there's no right and there's no wrong; just say yes or no and we promise to go along

Why don't we tell him that we don't have the answers, and that life can be grim?

Things rarely go according to plan; tell him things happen for no damned good reason

Unlikely Lovers

Who'd believe that we two would end up as lovers?

Do you want me to reply?

Please don't get morbid

It's just— that I haven't died yet… I'm sick but kicking

I'm staying here in this spot whether you want me to or not… I'm staying

Here I am, by your side, one old horny lover

Please go home and don't be scared

What's the fuss? I'm not scared, what good is a lover who's scared?

Hit me if you need to, slap my face or hold me till winter, oh baby, please do

I love you, too, my lover

Think of me around, sleeping soundly in our bed

[name], did you hear what I said?

Shut your mouth, go to sleep

I can't help but feeling I've failed, let's be scared together; let's pretend that nothing is awful

There's nothing to fear

I love you

Is it a bad time? We'll come back, if it's a bad time, we'll come back… we’ll come in!

Look at us, four old friends, four unlikely lovers

We don't know what time will bring

Gee, we love to eat, and we need something sweet

What a group we four are, four unlikely lovers

And we vow that we will buy the farm, arm in arm, four unlikely lovers… with heart

Let's be scared together, let's pretend that nothing is awful… there's nothing to fear, just stay right here

Who'd have thought that we four would end up as lovers

Another Miracle of Judaism

If you'd kindly allow, how about a miracle now?

Are you just a big psychiatrist or can you make things not happen?

I am not naïve, it won't be easy, but could you please make my friend stop dying

You’ve Gotta Die Sometime

When the doctor started using phrases like "You'll pass away," what could I say?

In plain English, tell me why was I chosen, why me of all men?

Here's the good part, at least death means I'll never be scared about dying again

Let's get on with living while we can and not play dumb, death’s gonna come

When it comes, screw the nerves, I'll be eating hors d'oeuvres

It's the roll of the dice and no crime

Death is not a friend but I hope in the end he takes me in his arms and lets me hold his face, he holds me in his arms and whispers something funny, he lifts me in his arms and tells me to embrace his attack

Then the scene turns to black

Life sucks; people always hate a loser and they hate lame ducks

Screw me and shucks

I quit, that's the ball game; it's the chink in the armor, the unresolved karma, the blues

Can I keep my cool despite the urge to fall apart? How should I start?

I would cry if I could but it does no damn good to explain I'm a man in my prime

Death's a funny pal with a weird sort of talent

He puts his arms around my neck and walks me to the bed

He pins me up against the wall and kisses me like crazy

The many stupid things I thought about with dread now delight

Then the scene turns to white

Give me the balls to orchestrate a graceful leave, that's my reprieve

To go out without care, my head high in the air

It's the last little mountain I'll climb

You’ve gotta die sometime

Jason’s Bar mitzvah

Don't you move, everything will soon be great; close your eyes while we redecorate

I'll unwrap the billion hors d'oeuvres and someone, please, eat them

Lovely, flowers make things lovely, champagne makes things lovely, too

Everything's amiss

Probably, it's doubly useful at a time like this

I feel more helpless than I have in years

Please excuse me if I interfere, but I feel that, since I'm the host it's me who should toast him

We number not that many, actually... we're seven

Maybe it's not dumb the way this whole thing ends

The flowers seem to sparkle, the candelabra sets the tone

The wine is very soothing, soothes the "something, something," someone needed soothing

I think, perhaps, I'm overdressed

I think, perhaps, it doesn't matter

Don't know why but he looks like [name]

You hold my dreams, [name], I burst at the seams 'cause of you

What Would I Do

What would I do if I had not met you? Who would I blame my life on?

Once I was told that all men get what they deserve… who the hell then threw this curve?

There are no answers

Who would I be if you had not been my friend?

When I'm having fun you're the one I wanna talk to

Where have you been?

Where are you now?

Who would I be if I had not loved you? How would I know what love is?

God only knows, too soon I'll remember your faults; meanwhile, though, it's tears and schmaltz

All your life you've wanted men, and when you got it up to have them, who knew it could end your life?

I left [name]... to be with you, to be insulted by such handsome men

Do you regret--?

I'd do it again, I'd like to believe that I'd do it again and again and again...

How am I to face tomorrow after being screwed out of today?

Tell me what's in store

Yes, I'd beg or steal or borrow if I could hold you for one hour more

What would I do if I had not seen you? Who would I feast my eyes on?

Once I was told that good men get better with age… we're just gonna skip that stage

There are no answers but what would I do... no, no simple answers

What would I do if you had not been my friend?

Falsettoland (Reprise)

Homosexuals, women with children, short insomniacs, we're a teeny tiny band

Lovers come and lovers go, lovers live and die fortissimo

This is where we take a stand

Welcome to Faslettoland