#which is good bc that way I stay above the confusion and bullshit going around our society all the time

[twinklelilstarkey]

can i request an fluffy rafe imagine where he and reader break up (drugs) so sarah makes a girls night bc y/n it’s really sad and then rafe apologizes to her and they back together? omg i think it’s a little confuse..

A/N: Not confusing at all babe. I really like what you requested! Hope you enjoy it! — I’m sorry for not making it as fluffy as you probably wanted me too ❤️

Get help - Rafe Cameron

Words: 2.9k

Type: Angst & Fluff

Warnings: I- This is wayyy more sad that I intended it to be. Sorry? (Mentions of drug addiction and rehabilitation clinics, swearing... and I think that’s it)

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

It’s been a week since you last saw him and it still hurt. You miss him so much and it has become harder and harder to ignore these feelings. You have tried making yourself believe that this happened for the best of the two of you but it’s slowly getting tougher to swallow.

You and Rafe had been dating for years before that night happened, it still hurt to think of him.

You believe you’ve cried everything you could. Your body is now completely dehydrated and no tears are being created. In which you can’t help but thank with your now zombie-like mood.

“I’m going to get us a coffee, do you want anything else?” Sarah, your best friend, who is sitting next to you, asks.

You shake your head and she gives you a small smile. You stare back at the screen of your laptop, in hopes to finish what you were previously doing for school, and try to ignore all the sound around you.

You whisper the words you were reading to yourself, trying to make them make sense, but your peaceful silence is broken by a group of guys walking in the café. You sigh annoyed while staring at the screen, wanting to throw something at their loud mouths. But decide otherwise.

“Hey, Sarah. Haven’t seen you in a while” One of the guy says and you lift your eyes to where Sarah is standing.

Sarah smiles at Topper and starts a conversation as soon as she does it. You look away from them and look at the other person standing beside him, Rafe. He’s looking around himself, eyeing the inside of the café that he has never seen before. 

You force yourself to look away and lean back on the couch that you’re siting, trying to pay attention to something else other than him as your chest gets heavier and heavier by each second that passes.

Sarah says a little goodbye to Topper and ignores her brother’s presence before walking towards you. Rafe fakes trying to trip Sarah and she sends him a glare, which just made all the boys laugh. 

His eyes follow his sister and his smile falls at the sight of you staring at the screen of your laptop. You look up at Sarah as she hands you your drink and laugh at something she says.

He pleads, in his mind, for you to look up at him but you don’t do it. You’re too distracted with whatever his sister is saying to you. And only God knows that might be.

“Yo, Rafe. Can you please come back to Earth for a second?” Topper asks, making his best friend snap out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, what, sorry?”

(...)

“I promise it will be cool” Sarah insists, “We can spend the night watching movies and eating junk food”

“How is going to my ex boyfriend’s house going to help me move on or even feel better?” You ask as she lays comfortably in your bed.

“He’s never home at Friday’s!” She exclaims, “We’ll have the house to ourselves the whole night. It’s way better than staying here, where you need to have your door open because of your parents... Seriously, when are they going to trust you enough to close the door?”

You chuckle at her words and shake your head.

“Ah! Made you laugh!”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to your book.

“Now, can you please agree on coming over to my house? It will be so cool, I already have so many movies in mind. Oh! And soooo many snacks”

You think for a few seconds in silence.

“Please” She whispers into the air, looking at the ceiling, “You will have so much fuuun”

As Sarah is done singing her words, a smile fills your lips again and you sigh.

“Fine. But just tonight”

(...)

If Sarah could describe out loud what she’s feeling, she would have to do a whole essay. Because...

Why the fuck is Rafe still home at this time of day? Isn’t he supposed to be in a party?

The thing is, you’re almost getting to her house. Just like you had planned. There’s snacks on top of Sarah’s bed, the chosen movie is already paused at her bedroom tv and the pizza is also on its way.

Her 19 year old brother is the one fucking it all up. 

You’re supposed to come into her home to forget about him, and be calm and relaxed. And now, she feels like wherever she looks, Rafe’s there.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at a party today?” Sarah finally asks.

Rafe looks up from his phone, still leaning back on the kitchen counter, not even knowing that she had been glaring at him this whole time.

“Yeah, but I decided not to go” He answers with a shrug.

“Won’t that make you a bad friend?”

She’s using every play in the book now. She needs him gone for at least the whole night.

Rafe chuckles at his sister’s words and looks at her confused.

“No?”

Sarah sighs and walks over to the fridge when listening to his answer. Rafe follows her with his eyes as she fills a cup with water and curiosity takes over him.

“Why?”

“No reason”

“Bullshit”

Sarah rolls her eyes at his stubbornness and looks back before staring back at him.

“I wanted the whole house for myself and my friend, is that too much to ask?”

Rafe laughs.

“Since when am I such a bother to your little sleepovers? You never leave your room anyway”

Sarah opens her mouth to answer but the ringing of the doorbell stops her from doing so. Rafe lifts his eyebrows as if in surprise when seeing her reaction and lowers his eyes back to his phone.

Sarah glares at her brother when noticing that he isn’t planning on leaving the kitchen any soon and turns on her heels to go to the front door. 

As she walks closer to the door, she smiles at you through the glass and opens it.

“Hi!” She says excitingly, “Are you ready for the night of your life?”

You smile at her, “Sure”.

Sarah steps to the side to let you in the house, and you wait for her to start walking towards her room so you can follow her.

As you pass the kitchen doorway, you can’t help but look inside. You’re used to looking in and seeing Rose doing something, but this time, it isn’t Rose. It’s Rafe.

Air gets caught in your throat and you look away as quickly as you can. Rafe stays on his phone innocently, not even acknowledging who just came into his house.

Should you say something to Sarah? Does she not know that he’s in the house too?

You and Sarah get to her room rather quickly and she closes the door right behind you two as you walk in.

She’s quick to lay in her bed and open the covers for you, and you can’t help but grin at her as she opens one bag of chips right away.

“You ready?” She asks before pressing the play and you nod, “Let’s go”

Sarah presses the play and the sound of the universal studios entrance fills the silent room. You bring the covers closer to you and Sarah hands you the bag of chips just so you can take some of them.

And...

Not even halfway through the movie, Sarah highly regrets watching the movie while laying down because she’s out like a light.

You stare at the TV in silence, grinning slightly at Sarah’s slight snores as the main characters talk about their feelings in the TV.

But your mind is occupied with something else. You’re not paying much attention to the movie anymore. The plot stopped being of your interested when you noticed that Sarah had chosen the movie purely because of the cast.

Understandable, we’ve all done it. But romance movies are not a good choice when you’re trying to forget your failed relationship.

Already tired with your thoughts, you stand on your feet, away from the bed and drag yourself out of the bedroom.

Rafe must be in his party, now, since that was what Sarah said when you questioned his presence in the kitchen.

You walk down the stairs of the empty and silent house and drag your warm feet over the cold ground towards the kitchen.

As you grab a cup from the shelf above you, you almost groan at all the memories that hit you at once.

All the times that you and Rafe made breakfast on his days off classes, eating cheap fluffy pancakes until you felt sick with just the idea of drinking water. Or when you helped him through a big hangover after a big party.

The second memory hits you like a tone of bricks. 

Those mornings and the nights before, after the parties, were the reason of your breakup. You couldn’t stand to see Rafe kill himself with all the alcohol almost every night and the various drugs that his friends could get a hold of each month.

You walk towards the fridge, chest heavy with heartbreak, and fill your cup with cold water. The feeling of the freezing temperature over your fingertips wakes you up back to reality.

You hear steps in the hallway, right outside of the kitchen, and you don’t think much of it as it might be Sarah.

The door swings open and your eyes widen slightly at the sight of Rafe. His hair a complete mess, his eyes hold a sleepless look, and his clothes are slightly scrunched up. He looks like he’s had a rough night.

You don’t say anything, looking away as he looks at you. He clears his throat as if to fill the silence in the air and walks towards the shelf, grabbing a glass cup. 

He didn’t know you were the one sleeping over.

He doesn’t look at you or says anything. 

You can’t help but think in all this silence how much you want to run home, right now. You love Sarah but you can’t stay here any longer.

Your feet don’t move from under you and you’re left to stare at the floor as Rafe fills his cup with water as well. 

Both of you silent, fearing to break the peaceful absence of sound as your minds fill with all the good memories and the possible beginnings of conversation.

You finish your water and walk towards the sink to leave the cup beside it. Rafe’s eyes stay on you as you do it, but you don’t care to look up before walking out of the kitchen.

“Shit” Rafe whispers to himself as he hears your footsteps getting further away from the doorway.

You walk in the living room, not wanting to go back to bed, and make your way towards the glass sliding doors that lead to the porch.

The warm air of the last summer night hits you and you walk out, leaving the door slightly open. You walk towards the railing of the porch and lean against it, watching the calm waters under the dim lighting coming from the house.

You sigh as you rest your cheek over your fist and close your eyes to try and concentrate on your breathing other than your feelings.

The door behind you slides slightly but you don’t care to look back to see who it is. But that is until, it slides closed and someone stands right beside you.

“I wanted to talk to you” Rafe says.

You take a quick look at him before staring away into the grass of the garden right in front of you.

“About?” You ask in a whisper as he doesn’t say anything else.

“I don’t know” He answers with a shrug and you frown in confusion, “I just wanted to talk to you”

He really likes making everything worse for you, uh?

“We’re not supposed to be in talking terms,” You answer, “Not after our last conversation”

“I know”

You look down at your hands and play with your fingers as a way to fight out your emotions.

“I’ve- Uhm...” Rafe starts but pauses. You look up at him and see him scratching the back of his neck while staring at the ground.

“You’ve what?” You encourage.

“I’ve been clean for a week” He admits and looks down at you.

You look away and do a very small smile, rather fake, while staring at the grass once again.

“Hope it lasts” You say before biting your cheek.

“Me too”

Silence, again.

“I’m... I’m sorry for not listening to you before. About the addiction, I mean.”

You don’t say anything.

“You were right, and I was too stupid to not want to listen to you” He continues, “I’m sorry”

You look up to find him still staring. His gaze softens at the sight of you finally looking back and you give him a slight grin.

“You don’t need to say sorry. I’m sure it’s not something easy to swallow, to hear someone say that you’re addicted to something”

Rafe observes your expression twitch slightly at the mention of his addiction and his chest tightens at your saddened gaze as you sigh.

“I did it to myself” He admits with a shrug, “Just didn’t expect these many consequences to come from it”

“Like?”

The look he gives you is a good enough answer. You look away with that and he tenses up next to you.

He just screwed everything up, didn’t he?

“It happens, Rafe” You whisper, “At least it was able to motivate you into changing”

“Yeah... It was” He agrees, “I just- you know, feel like this could’ve been done in other ways”

“Of course, it could’ve” You answer bringing your shoulder up as if you’re shrugging, “This is just where our argument took us”

Rafe can’t help but disagree. It wasn’t the ‘argument’s fault’, it’s his. His words. His sick and disgustingly affected by whatever he took, words.

“Will you ever forgive me?” He blurs out, catching both you and himself by surprise.

“Forgive you?” You ask confused, “I’m not even mad at you”

“You’re not?”

“No” You say with a frown, shaking your head slightly, “I’m mad at myself more than I am at you. I could’ve helped you before you became addicted, and I-”

“You know it isn’t your fault that I’m the fuck-up that I am, right?” He asks you and you glare at him.

“Don’t call yourself that” You say, “We’ve been over this, Rafe.”

“It’s true” He says with a slightly annoyed tone, “I fuck up everything, I’m just-”

“Shut up”

He falls silent, not wanting to ruin anything further.

“You’re not a fuck up” You say, annoyed that he could even think that, “Don’t let your mistakes fucking define you, Rafe. We’ve talked about this. You’ve fucked up, yes. But who hasn’t?” You pause so that the words can sink in, “Sarah has fucked up, I’ve fucked up. Your own dad has fucked up before... I didn’t break up with you because of your mistakes”

He looks at you confused.

“I’ve broken up with you because I couldn’t bear to see you kill yourself any further while everyone fucking stared and did a whole bunch of nothing” Tears swell up in your arms, “And that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve taken your mind off your drugs to just think about what you can lose with them”

You sniffle and look away, not wanting him to see you cry.

“It was my selfish way to make you wake up, want to try and get help-” You say with your voice shaking, but he interrupts you.

“Hey” He says, “It wasn’t selfish”

“I-”

“No, you’re going to hear me, now” He interrupts, “How can you say that what you did was selfish when you were trying to help me? That makes no sense! I’m not getting help yet, but if that’s what you want me to do, I’ll call my dad right fucking now and I’ll go to a clinic tomorrow”

“Rafe” You start, turning back to look at him.

“I know I’m supposed to do this for myself and not anyone else, but fuck. I’ve been dating you for years. I love you more than I’ll ever love myself. I can’t lose you. Not over something that I did”

A sob escapes your mouth and you cover it with your hand. Rafe, with that, pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you.

“Just please, give me another chance” He whispers into your hair, “This time, I’ll get all the help I need. I won’t ever push you away, or put anything before me and you”

You wrap your arms tightly around his torso and sniffle into his chest.

“Okay” You whisper, “But you have to promise me that you’ll get the help as soon as possible”

You look up at him, still hugging him, and he looks down at you.

“I promise”

A faint smiles is drawn over your lips and Rafe presses a kiss onto your wet cheek, pulling you back into the tight hug.

“I’ll call my dad tomorrow” He whispers.

“And I’ll be there with you” You whisper back.

- - - - - - -

I honestly almost cried while correcting this. Am I the only one?

[writingtoforgetreality]

Stuck with U (Peter Hale x Reader)

[Teen Wolf-Masterlist]

Summary: The only thing the pack wanted to do was to find the hunters that kept hurting the innocent. A plan was a good start but what if they managed to kidnap you anyway? And if that was not enough...with Peter out of everyone. To say you guys despised one another would be an understatement. Still, the most important thing now was to keep a clear head & to work on a solution. Together.

Words: 3,482

Warnings: language, Peter & Reader being sarcastic assholes, age gap (Reader is of legal age), kidnapping, angst (so much angst), fluff (bc let´s be honest...Peter is a big ol´ softie)

Inspired by: “Stuck with U” by Ariana Grande & Justin Bieber 

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Mmm Hey, yeah (That's just for fun) (What?) Ah, yeah

You were in your senior year of high school & even though you loved your friends endlessly, you were eager to graduate & leave Beacon High behind you. There were just way too many bad experiences you associated with that place. But, on a lighter note, if you had not started at this high school, you would have never met the pack. At first, it scared the shit out of you. The monsters you had dreamed about as a small child were reality. They were somewhere out there, in the dark corners of the country.

Lately, you guys had a little, well actually not so little, problem with a few hunters who wanted to see your pack dead, you included. Why? You were not sure. It was not like you were a werewolf or a banshee. Just a simple teenager who got thrown into this mess. But you did not want to have it any other way. Yeah, the days as an average human surrounded by powerful supernatural beings were hard but you knew how much you were needed.

You were all located at Derek´s loft, figuring out a way to stop the hunters. Now, not all hunters were bad. Chris Argent, for example, was eager to help you guys to put the killers to a stop just as much as you did. The thing was that it always seemed they were a step ahead of you. Even some of Stiles´ plans had previously failed, much to your dismay.

“Maybe we should just go into groups of two & trick them into thinking we´re not all planning on hunting them down?” Peter sighed with a roll of his eyes.

“Sure, because that always works in the movies, right?” it was you who shot him a glance, making the rest of the pack grow quiet.

Peter & you hated each other. Ever since you guys first met. You were fed up with his constant sarcasm & how he could not see the real danger & had to make fun of everything. He immediately caught up to your negative feelings toward him, thanks to his werewolf senses. And neither of you were sure why you hated each other so much, you simply kept rolling with it. The others were at a point where they did not even pay much attention to your bickering anymore. You had better things to do for fuck´s sake.

You were not really paying attention to what the others were saying, too lost in your own thoughts. Graduation was way sooner than you anticipated & you had not really spent a lot of time studying, due to those fucking hunters. What was even worse...you had to deal with a big ass crush. It was not like you wanted to catch feelings, it just sort of...happened. With so many amazing, kind & attractive guys in your pack...you had to pick the one you “hated” most: Peter Hale. Maybe that was another reason why you always fought with him. To keep your feelings at bay. First of all, he was too old for you, clearly he would not have any interest in such a young person. Second of all, he hated you with his guts, you were sure & everyone else could feel it too. So you hid your feelings, acting as if nothing bothered you whatsoever. By the time you started focusing on the conversation the pack held, the plan was already settled. And by your surprise, Peter´s plan was about to happen. Stiles said if you were able to circle them & two of you being baits, you actually had a chance of stopping them. The pack decided to set out at night so less people would be able to see you.

~time skip~

Another one of Stiles´ plans (well, actually Peter´s plan) failed. At first, everything looked optimistic. You all got into groups of two & Scott said it was better for you to be a bait. Of course you understood why, you did not have “superpowers” like the rest but you were not that bad when it came to fighting, you had to give that to yourself.

“Okay, fine. Does that mean Stiles & I are a group?” you gave up & asked the obvious.

“Um, actually...(Y/N), I need Stiles next to me & we thought it was the best if Peter & you teamed up” Scott hesitated & scratched the back of his neck, knowing you were not okay with the pack´s decision. His words made you snap up. You could not believe what you just heard. You & Peter? It was bad enough that you guys always argued but it was even worse because you knew you could not keep focus with him next to you. Stupid crush…

“I think the fuck not.” Peter growled, throwing a disgusted look at you. Very nice of him. You would lie if you said you were not hurt by his words.

“Peter, you are the last one to decide in this group. So if we say you & (Y/N) are the baits then you don´t argue with us, understood?” this time it was Derek who tried to talk some sense into Peter. It seemed to work because after that, Peter made his way over to the couch & sat down, leaving the rest of you in the kitchen.

“Good luck with him, sweetie. If you need help, you know what to do.” Lydia winked at you, then her face showed a sympathetic look. I'm not one to stick around One strike and you're out, baby Don't care if I sound crazy But you never let me down, no, no That's why when the sun's up, I'm stayin' Still layin' in your bed, sayin'

It was dark & Peter & you were already on position. It was an abandoned alleyway and you would have lied if you claimed you were not scared. Peter seemed to sense your anxiety & tried to calm you down, at least a bit. 

“We have so many badass people on our side, they won´t let anything happen to you. Besides, you still got me.” with that, he shot you a wink to which you started blushing. Your eyes focused on the floor so Peter would  not notice you cheeks heating up. Due to your reaction, he assumed you were but he did not comment on it. He simply smiled. A smile you could not see because your own shoes seemed to peek your interest more.

“(Y/N)! Watch out!” Peter´s scream was the last thing you heard before passing out.

Here you were. Tied up in a room that seemed to have no doors. This fact alone let your anxiety rise up the moment you opened your eyes. Looking around, your eyes settled on Peter who was just a few feet away from you, still unconscious.

“Peter! Peter, wake up!” after a few more tries you heard him groaning out. His wrists were bruised, just like yours, from being tied up. If you had not known better, you would have guessed you two had been held hostage for a long time.

“You alright?” were Peter´s first words, directed at you. You were confused, since when did he care about your well-being? Nevermind, you had bigger issues at the moment.

“I´m fine, how about you?” you lied. To be completely honest, you were a wreck. Your heart was racing, your throat was dry, your wrists were bleeding so bad, they were numb.

“Cut the bullshit, (Y/N)! I´m a werewolf...not a dumbass.” he stated matter of factly. That made you tense up even more. You really were not in the mood for dealing with his hatred.

“Look, Peter, just for as long as we´re here, can we stop the arguing? It´s not helpful.” your voice sounded exhausted. At first, Peter wanted to come at you with a snarky remark but when he looked over to you, he saw nothing but fear so he decided against it.

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

Got all this time on my hands

Might as well cancel our plans, yeah

I could stay here for a lifetime

Neither of you said much but you both knew you had been locked up for a couple of hours by now. While you were way too tired to think of an escape plan, Peter had spent most of the time using his claws to free himself of the rope wrapped around his wrists. You had told him a while ago that his attempts were useless but he had just growled at you & kept going. Not wanting to argue any further, you let him do whatever & just stayed silent, trying to calm yourself.

Suddenly, you felt someone grabbing your hands, making you shriek. You thought it was one of the guys who had kidnapped you but were surprised when Peter crouched down in front of you.

“Shh, it´s just me, you´re alright.” his voice had a soothing tone to it, something you had not heard from him before. A look at his wrists made you wince. You were sure yours did not look any better. Peter used his claws again, this time working faster because he had two hands he could use. When you were finally freed, your arms fell to your sides, not being strong enough to take a closer look at your wrists.

“We need to bandage your wrists up, otherwise they get infected. Yours are way worse than mine.” his voice was barely above a whisper &, to your surprise, it managed to calm you down a lot better than you thought it would.

“Why?” was all you could say. His eyes searched your (E/C) ones, his face showed a pure look of confusion.

“I just told you, so they don´t get infected. Maybe you should actually listen to what I say.” Peter chuckled as he ripped two pieces off his shirt to wrap around your wrists.

“No, I mean...why are you helping me?” you kept your voice low, somehow embarrassed that you were in need of his help. Usually, you would try everything to handle such things on your own but your exhaustion made it a bit hard for you.

“Because your wrists look, sorry for my language, disgusting & we´re the only ones here right now. If we wanna get out, we need to help each other. Now, would you please shut up & let me treat your wounds?” Peter made sure that the usual bitterness of his voice was gone. He did not want you to freak out even more. If he were honest, he hated seeing you like this, completely worn out & filled with anxiety. He should not have these feelings right now. The only thing that mattered was getting out alive. Why was he thinking about his crush on you? Peter had always felt drawn to you from the moment you first met. Obviously, he was aware of the age gap & that you somehow seemed to hate him. So, to keep things even, he matched your attitude but in a more playful manner. Deep down, every time you guys argued, his crush on you got slightly bigger.

“Thank you.” you breathed out & looked at Peter as he finished bandaging you up. He sent you a small smile which you reciprocated.

“Anytime, darling.” Peter winked at you & yet again caused you to look at the floor & try to hide the blush that crept on your cheeks.

So, lock the door and throw out the key

Can't fight this no more, it's just you and me And there's nothin' I, nothin' I, I can do I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you So, go ahead and drive me insane Baby, run your mouth, I still wouldn't change Being stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you, baby

“Peter?” you asked after a while of comfortable silence. Both of you had tried everything possible to find an escape but escaping a room without any windows or doors was hard.

“Hmm?” he looked up at you to find you fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“What if we die in here? What if Scott & the rest won´t find us? What if-” but Peter cut your rambling off.

“(Y/N)...Try to breathe, okay? In...and out. In and out. There you go.” he went over to you & sat himself right beside you, his thigh next to yours, slightly touching. He waited until he spoke up again.

“Look, first of all, & I told you this earlier, Scott & the rest are freaking badass & they will do everything to find us & get us out, okay?” as you nodded he continued. “And IF it really comes to the outcome of us dying in here, & the possibility of doing so is incredibly small, then we should set some things clear, don´t you think?” he smirked at your confusion.

“What´re you saying?”

“I don´t know...Getting to know each other better, I guess. The only thing I really know about you is that you have an attitude & you seem to use sarcasm as a defense mechanism.” you playfully hit him as he said the last part. “Okay, okay. Let´s start simple then. Hmm, let me think, oh, I got one: Why do you hate me so much?” & with that question of his, you guys started talking, actually talking, not arguing, for the first time ever.

There's nowhere we need to be, no, no, no I'ma get to know you better Kinda hope we're here forever There's nobody on these streets If you told me that the world's endin' Ain't no other way that I can spend it

After what felt like hours, Peter & you found out that your hatred for one another was based off a big misunderstanding. This was just one of the many facts you learned about him. He was right, if you were about to die in this room, then at least with clearing things up. By the time, you were both too exhausted, too tired to talk any more. You did not recall how it happened but your head was laying on Peter´s chest, right above his heart, calming you down. Before you knew it, the both of you were fast asleep.

Oh, oh, oh, oh (ooh) Got all this time in my hands Might as well cancel our plans (yeah, yeah) I could stay here forever

Peter & you were shaken awake by bashing on one of the walls. Peter motioned for you to stay behind him, just in case. Yeah, you were skilled in fighting but he was still way stronger than you. Perks of being a werewolf. From behind, you could see his sharp claws, ready to attack. It almost sounded like a faint voice calling your names. Was this Scott? Maybe you were starting to hallucinate due to the lack of water, food etc. The wall came crashing down but before Peter could jump into action, you screamed “Scott?”

“Oh, thank god..” said Lydia who was right behind Scott. Stiles came rushing forward towards you, kind of ignoring Peter (they did not really get along, surprisingly).

“Are you okay?” Stiles grabbed you by your shoulders & just as you wanted to answer him, the world around you became pitch black.

So, lock the door and throw out the key Can't fight this no more, It's just you and me And there's nothin' I, nothin' I, I can do I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you So, go ahead and drive me insane Baby, run your mouth, I still wouldn't change Being stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you

You could muster some voices in the distance, they sounded far away & you wanted nothing more than to open your eyes & scream for them to get you. But your eyelids felt way too heavy, giving you a hard time to open them. Then, you felt someone taking your hand, the touch felt familiar, warm but you could not quite make out who it was.

“Come on, (Y/N). Wake up. You can´t just open up to me like that & then...disappear. What would I do without your sarcastic comments? Stiles´ comments don´t count, he´s a douchebag. What would I do without your attitude? (Y/N), what would I do without...you?” Peter whispered, not wanting anyone to hear what he just...confessed. Little did he know you actually heard every bit of his confession & you hated your body for not reacting the way you wanted. Peter did not leave your side, though, wanting to be there when you woke up.

Woah Baby, come take all my time Go on, make me lose my mind We got all that we need here tonight

“It´s been days, Peter. You heard what Melissa said. The stress, the anxiety mixed with the exhaustion you both endured, was a lot for her. It will take a while until she wakes up & even if she does...it will most likely take a while until she´s back to her old self.” Derek informed Peter once more about your current condition. He was aware of that, of course, it still did not sink in. He needed you & it took the both of you almost dying for him to realize it.

“I know...It´s just, ugh, I hate myself for not noticing sooner.” Peter sighed, sadness written all over his features.

“Noticing what exactly?” Derek furrowed his brows, waiting for Peter to continue. After that, Peter told Derek everything that had happened between the two of you from the moment on you were kidnapped. This story made Derek realize. Peter had a huge ass crush on you & still had not had the chance to tell you.

“She´ll wake up” Derek tried reasoning. He went over to Peter & gave him a pet on his shoulder.

I lock the door (lock the door) and throw out the key Can't fight this no more (can't fight this no more), it's just you and me And there's nothin' I, nothin' I'd rather do I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you So, go ahead and drive me insane Baby, run your mouth, I still wouldn't change All this lovin' you, hatin' you, wantin' you I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with You, oh, oh

“Hey (Y/N), I brought you coffee, figured you would need it after waking up from such a long nap.” Peter slightly chuckled as he moved closer to the bed you were currently laying in. He placed your cup on the bedside cabinet & took a sip of the one in his hand. His free hand found its way to yours, he interwinted your hands, bringing it up to his lips to give it a small kiss.

“Didn´t know you were such a softie.” you croaked out. As soon as you chuckled you felt how dry your throat was & started coughing. Peter´s eyes widened at your words. You were awake, finally! He grabbed a class of water, helped you sit up & handed it to you. You downed it entirely, the liquid soothing your throat.

“How...How are you feeling? No lies this time!” Peter once again took your hand into his, enjoying the contact & you did not mind either.

“Not gonna lie, I´ve been better. But I´ve been worse too, sooo…I´ll live.” you made sure to send a smile towards Peter in order not to scare him. You were exhausted, yeah, but you would be okay.

“You scared me there for a bit.”

“Because I looked...how did you put it? Disgusting?” your exaggerated voice made him laugh & you joined him.

“On a more serious note...(Y/N), um, I wanted to tell you-”

“I heard you the other day. When you confessed, I heard you but I couldn´t open my damn eyes. I just couldn´t. So, to ease your mind, I was thinking the exact same thing, Peter.” you took his face into your hands & pushed him towards you, your lips colliding, moving in sync. Finally, after many doubts & many arguments, you were kissing him. The Peter Hale. And it was even better than you had ever imagined. After a while, you two pulled away.

“This doesn´t mean I´ll stop dropping my sarcastic comments, just so you know.”

“I wouldn´t want it any differently.” Peter leaned in once again for another kiss. He made sure to put every bit of emotion in it, wanting you to know how he felt for you.

“Guess that means I´m stuck with you then?”

“I guess so.”

Stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you

Published (06/29/2020) by Cathy

Tags: @exceptionallytiredzombie , @theloveshow , @theycallmequeenie , @letsgotothecityandfallinlove , @marvel-gives-me-feels , @blog-lady-vi , @kissingvalentino , @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen , @iclosetgeek , @captainoffantasy [love to everyone tagged <3, let me know if you want a part 2]

[up-in-my-bunghole]

Dear writers of BBC’s Merlin:

It would be such a pleasure if you would just grow the fuck up and deal with the romantic and sexual tension you’ve created between Merlin and Arthur and just let them be gay for each other, you cowards.

Here’s some ideas to spice up the show with some Merthur content:

Merlin loses control of his magic after losing a great deal (probably a loved one) and he makes an explosion of destructive magic around him in his distress and he can’t calm it back down again. People try to approach him but they only end up flung aside, and they have no idea how to handle him. Until Arthur comes in, and he starts to walk toward Merlin successfully. Everyone sits silent as they watch, Arthur only focused on his friend as he comes face to face with his golden eyes and blue sparks of heat (I imagine an electric blowout). Slowly, Arthur talks to him in a way that only he can do, actually being sincere and gentle with his words (although a few jabs slip, it doesn’t hurt Merlin’s feelings or make it worse, bc that’s just who Arthur is). He reaches out and takes his hand, feeling the prickle of sparks in his palm, but Merlin starts to settle with his presence, the glow in his eyes flickering ever so slightly. Eventually, Arthur comes in to hug him and bring him down all the way, and Merlin is back to normal.   

                                                                       Another magic one would be when Arthur is surrounded and has no hope for survival against his enemies, but Merlin stands in front of him just as they unleash their forces and deflects them all with a blast wave of pure power. He picks them off one by one, ruthlessly to save his king. After no one else is left standing or breathing in front of Merlin, he turns around to see Arthur completely blown away with a dismal “wow” and he gets up to kiss him as his reward.

A scene where Merlin and Arthur stand together at the final battle, gazing into the eye of the storm and knowing the chance that they will live to tell the tale is near impossible. With their last moments of solemnity, they link their hands, lean their foreheads together, and say their last goodbyes before they charge out into war.

For the past few days, Merlin has been getting these mystical pains (like a headache or some magical shit like that), and it’s been hindering him from completing his duties. Arthur notices it and bashes him for it, calling him a wimp and a girl. Merlin has a snarky remark to throw back in the beginning, but soon he doesn’t have the energy to respond. Over the days, he becomes more and more reclusive, and although Arthur notices, he doesn’t let up from his chores. Until one day, when he’s yelling at Merlin about the state of his bed chambers, Merlin yells out in delirious pain and then collapses with it, crying out in agony before passing out. Gaius is called to see him and he discovers that he has an inflammation of his meninges (the jello around the brain) ((or some other illness like that)) and Arthur finally realizes all the harm he’s done and how far he pushes Merlin. Once he recovers, Arthur apologizes and makes up for his shit behavior.

After all of Merlin’s rough battles and adventures and losses, Arthur is once again being a stick up his ass and walloping him about petty shit when Merlin has had enough. He snaps. Instead of taking all of Arthur’s insulting nagging, he fights back this time. Merlin is thrashing out at him, yelling and clawing with a fury in his eyes that almost flashes gold as he spills with rage. He lets go of all of it, all of the strife and pain and anger and loss. Hot, burning tears scald his cheeks, and he burns with them. Once it’s all out, once his tears can no longer pour and his voice has gone raw, he stuffs it back up, turns away from Arthur, and leaves him in his bedchamber with a stiff goodbye. All night, Arthur lays awake with Merlin’s voice in his head, haunted by his profound suffering that he was barely aware of. The next day, when Merlin silently serves his breakfast and starts to straighten up his linens, he whispers and ‘I’m sorry’ just behind him. Merlin only murmurs that it’s fine and an apology of his own for lashing out, but Arthur doesn’t take it. He turns Merlin around to face him, and he sees all the pain from yesterday still stowed away in his eyes. The only thing he can think to do is pull him to his chest and give him a hug with another ‘I’m sorry’ said next to Merlin’s ear. He can’t hold it all in anymore, and Merlin grips back with a choked, relieved sigh. Arthur says to never speak of this again. Merlin nods, but he can’t help but smile. Arthur smiles. too.

Or, Arthur comes storming into his chambers with his head about to explode with rage after a fight with his father, and a devastating loss. Merlin is in there polishing his armor or something when he sees stuff flying across the room and hears Arthur just about roaring in fury. When Merlin asks him what in the hell he’s on about, he gets a full face of a furious, unhinged Arthur. He’s throwing things, he’s tugging his hair, and he’s completely losing control.With every time that Merlin tries to talk some sense into him, he only burns up more until Merlin finally yells at him to please tell him what’s going on, and Arthur starts to yell again, but he can’t help it anymore. He starts to cry from everything his father has done, and everything he’s seen happen by his order and stood by. The things he’d done by his fathers side, even if it hurt his soul, and of course, his mother. He couldn’t take any more of it. Arthur can’t hide the tears welling in his eyes, Merlin stunned into worried silence at his outburst. After he lets Arthur have a moment, Merlin walks up to him and wraps his arms around his king, and just hugs him, letting Arthur let it all out. Once he’s settled enough and Merlin lets him go, Arthur whispers a thank you, to which he replies ‘of course, Sire’.

Just imagine that Merlin is secretly sparring with the other knights of the round table (probably Gwaine and Lancelot) to kick Arthur in the ass later. His time off is spent in the fields with a sword in hand, and Merlin has gotten pretty good. As Arthur is prowling the castle for his servant, he finds himself in the training yard to see Merlin with Gwaine, sparring. At first Arthur laughs, as he’s expecting Merlin’s rear end pummeled to the ground in the next few seconds. But Merlin has gotten quick, and although his clumsy demeanor is ever present, he’s actually very smooth. Arthur freezes right then and there as Merlin sweeps Gwaine off his feet and presses the sword to his chest, suddenly feeling flushed. When Merlin finds out that Arthur had been watching the whole time (with an awkward, witty little wave) Arthur can’t find the words, only nodding to him and turning tail. Merlin’s face soon turns red after, and Gwaine is a little shit about it and fucks around with Merlin and teases him endlessly.

Or, another fun one. Merlin got some shit or something spilled on him and he rushes into his room to get changed. Unbeknownst to Arthur, who speeds past Gaius and into Merlin’s room to behold.... Merlin, in nothing but his undergarments. And holy shit, Arthur was not prepared to see that. Merlin never takes off his tunic, much less his trousers. Never. Arthur hadn’t even seen his bare skin past his forearms. So to see his chest in plain sight, and his stomach and hips and shoulders and thighs is just... *poof*. Arthur has lost it. Merlin turns around and notices him there and yanks his sheet to his chest with a confused hello, trying to hide his red cheeks. Arthur is quick with a bullshit explanation and hightails it the fuck out, and both of them can’t stop blushing.  Before a tournament, when Merlin is preparing Arthur in the tent after they had a little fight that Arthur suspects Merlin is still a little mad about (well, not really a fight, just an altercation that has Merlin debating about sharing his feelings), Arthur is prodding and poking at him and all but begging him to banter with him. But, Merlin stays mostly silent while securing his armor. No matter how many insults he throws at Merlin, his mouth stays shut. As a last attempt to wring out some of Merlin’s humor or at least a smile, Arthur asks, “a kiss for good luck?”.  Merlin is actually stunned by his question at first, but he thinks about it for a moment. And after some awkward consideration and then a last thought of ‘fuck it’, Merlin tugs his chains and smacks his lips against Arthur’s, hot and wet and sudden and tight for the most shocking 6 seconds of Arthur’s life and then Merlin shoves him out of the tent and into the sparring match and Arthur is just O__o (I got this from a cool fanart comic, I can’t find it anymore tho, so the idea isn’t mine)

After Arthur finds out about Merlin’s magic and has returned from the lake (about a year later), he’s still a little weary of his sorcery, but he’s still curious. And once Merlin has had enough of his tip toeing, he finally sits him down in his chambers and shows him how amazing magic can really be. With a wave of his hand and some old, gentle words, Merlin conjures a ball of soft blue light that forms a dragon swirling around above Merlin’s fingers. Unlike the other times Arthur has seen dragons depicted, this one is graceful, and it seems docile as it floats over him. He’s enchanted with it, leaning in to look at it more closely. That’s when Merlin asked if he wanted to try something. He nodded, and Arthur’s hands were taken into Merlin’s with an incantation, and then he held a luminescent dragon in his hand as well. It dances around his head as he begins to smile.Ever since that faithful day Arthur keeps asking for Merlin to show him more magic, and every time he asks, Merlin smiles, too.

Can you tell I’m a fan of Merthur?

After Uther is dead, Arthur is shut off from the rest of the world, and not even the love of Camelot could bring him back. Merlin doesn’t say anything about it, silently supporting him with little acts, but not broaching him about it. One night, Merlin comes into Arthur’s bedchambers to see it completely tarnished. Clothes and trinkets thrown about askew, the sheets and curtains torn and discarded on the floor, and Arthur sitting on the floor with his arms resting on his knees, one of the most painful looks Merlin has ever seen trapped behind his eyes. Still, Merlin says nothing as he shuffles over to where Arthur is haphazardly collapsed on the floor, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. And he doesn’t say a word as he offers his hand, palm up, between them to where Arthur can see. Merlin doesn’t need to ask, and Arthur doesn’t need to answer as he tangles their fingers together. They speak without using their voices there, neither of them pushing, but both feeling a pull. Arthur’s tears start to fall, with Merlin squeezing his hand through them. Slowly, Merlin scoots closer until Arthur’s head is resting on his. They spend the entire night like that, the world outside a blur. No one bothers them, and no one comes to wake up the King, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. 

Merlin is pushed into the lake. During an ambush from Morgana and her forces, Merlin is knocked into the freezing water, cracking the ice and slipping under. It’s Lancelot that sees his neckerchief on the water surface and a pale body sinking through, racing against the splitting ice to reach him. He almost doesn’t grab him in time, but by partly submerging himself, he’s able to grab a hold on one of Merlin’s stiff arms and haul him over the surface. After hearing the lake’s surface break, Arthur knows something bad had happened, but he couldn’t actually go over and investigate until Morgana’s soldiers are on the ground in front of him. Once he does, he sees the red fabric damp and frosted on the water, and his heart frosts over with it. Merlin’s lips are blue like his fingertips, all the life drained from his skin. He’s not breathing. Now Arthur’s hands are shaking as he feels over Merlin’s cold skin for a pulse. He can’t feel one, but he won’t give up. He can’t. So he tries to give Merlin some of his warmth, rubbing over his arms and sides and rolling him over. He rips off his cloak and wraps him in it, but the fabric is soaked through in seconds. He pleads to the gods, begs them not to take him, not him, please. His tears burn hot in anger and desperation as he finally shakes his limp body and yells at him, orders him to live. Just then, Merlin’s fingers twitch, and not soon after he’s coughing up lake water onto himself, body now fully wracked with shaking as a burst of his magic forces his heart to beat, and for him to take in a breath. 

[crazycookiemaniac]

Omg why are you losing so many followers youve been drawing gay shit for forever??? (Or maybe i as a gay was just interpreting it that way)

Because I literally spammed people every day for one week lmao. And also, a lot of people follow others for specific content. The moment I stop drawing that exact thing they followed me for, they unfollow me. There are also accounts that follow just to make you follow them & if you don’t, they unfollow you after a while. There’s people who followed me for haikyuu & weren’t interested in BC content, and there were people who followed me for BC content but got showered in gay art instead and that was not their cuppa tea. 

But mostly, i start appearing on people’s feed the more I post. So having me post incessantly for one week made me show up on feeds that I hadn’t shown up for  a good while, so there were probably people who forgot they had followed me in the first place & me posting was a reminder to unfollow.

Truthfully, follower counts are dumb. Yes, it is important for you to have a high follower count for you to get attention, but the amount of people actually following you if you don’t have a consistent art style & rarely ever post something with different vibes than your usual ones, is equal or less than 1% of your total amount of following.

My instagram tells me I have 43k. I do not have 43k people following me. I’ve had 43k that once saw my account & pressed the follow button, but their feeds are filled up with other people’s accs that interest them more than mine (as well as my own feed does not show all the content of the 200+ something people I follow, unless I scroll down till the depths of hell to find every single post on that day and then do so on the next day as well).

Essentially, 95% of your followers are there because of content. They want to see what entertains them. Most of them don’t care about the artist and don’t interact with them at all. Many of them are scared to, given the high follower count. Social media & big accounts make people forget that there are other, real, living & breathing people that are behind them all.

So, to many, I was just a random artist they found and “lol”ed at one of my comics & pressed follow without thinking about it. Most of them don’t go to my account and see all other art I’ve posted to see if they actually like what I do, or me as a person and as an artist at all.

People who don’t know this get really discouraged when they don’t earn a lot of followers, or when they lose a lot (like I did). And some people think you gotta have hundreds of thousands to be famous. I’ve seen accs going around that paid for ads, that had over 150k followers and less than 1k likes on their posts.

Truly famous, loved, growing and/or steady accounts have an amount of likes per post proportional to their follower count. For example, if someone has 150k followers, most of their posts will vary from 20k to 100k likes.

When I was growing my account because I hopped in the fandom bandwagon and stupid little me didn’t know that would only make me crash later, I had like 20~30k and some of my posts reached more than 20k likes (because people liked my stupid comics). Nowadays, I’m not part of the fandom that made me grow anymore. I’m part of a very underrated one (Black Clover), as well a I am drawing a very underrated ship (LuGna) that above all else is getting hated on. I have everything against me in this, so it’s no wonder I lost so many followers.

They didn’t wanna see gay art. They didn’t wanna see Black Clover. They didn’t even know what the fuck was going on. Not everyone paid attention or kept up with my warnings. Despite me explaining multiple times in multiple posts what the Thunder Flames project was about, a lot of people still didn’t know what I was doing that for.

The thing about being a big follower count is that, unless you’re actually loved for what you do (and to do that, once again, I need to emphasize that you need to keep a steady rhythm, a steady vibe, a steady you. Because people follow you for your first impression on them, and you gotta keep up to that first impression if you wanna keep your followers.

I’m unsteady. One look at my gallery and you’ll see how disorganized everything is. Oh, lookit, a 1 min speedpaint of a random drawing I did on an old piece of paper! And right on the left there’s a stupid random comic I did–on the right there’s this super detailed, shaded drawing I’ve done that actually looks terrible to me and I will 100% archive it later, and then there’s B&W mixed with gray shaded, flat colored and fully shaded characters of different fandoms + OCs from commissions and whatever else. 

The thing is, I made my follower count based on a fandom, and now that I’m not there most of that follower count does not have me on their feed. And most of them do not want me on their feed. Now, I’m trying to build a follower count for who I am as an artist, because the few people who have actually stayed and followed me throughout the years know how inconsistent I am in terms of art style, fandoms and everything else.

A solution to this would me either keep creating/posting the same thing all over again (just in different patterns), or creating original content (which I do plan on doing at some point). But for now? Since my follower count does absolutely not reflect on how many people actually like me and/or my art, I’m going to be as chaotic as fucking ever and do whatever the fuck I want.

So yes, I do find it comical that I lost 1k followers over this and am not fazed in the very least, especially because I literally foreshadowed losing 1k and hit the fucking jackpot.

The only reason I’m talking about this at all is because 1- it’s impossible not to notice my follower count decreasing, especially because every new 1k I thank people publicly through stories; 2- some people were actually worried I was upset over it and I have to 3- show that I am not, while simultaneously trying to show people that just because you’re losing followers doesn’t mean you have to stop doing what you want to create content to please people. It doesn’t mean you should be upset, and it doesn’t mean that what you’re doing is bad or wrong.

It means you’re fucking renewing your followers & you’ll now grow for what you’re trying to grow for, bitch. That’s what it’s all about.

Obviously, people do take a great risk doing this. I am taking a great risk doing this. I could’ve lost 5k, I could’ve lost 10k. But I only lost 1k! And that’s because I believe in the project I worked on; I knew there were people out there who enjoyed what I was doing and it’s on them that I was focused on. On the people who supported me AND my art, not just that one single funny comic post I did 3 years ago.

This answer is 100% a lot longer than what you could’ve possibly expected for and I am typing this while being awake for more than 24h so I’m sure that I’ve repeated myself a lot and that there are a lotta typos or w/e and I apologize for that!! But I’m too lazy to go back to read everything over & turn this into a neat post & I’m pretty sure I could answer your question in the first paragraph.

Oh and also. Yes. Yes I have been drawing gay shit ever since I’ve become an artist because I’m so fucking pissed at the lack of canon gay content in a way that it’s depicted as a normal fucking romantic couple instead of having eeeeeeeeveryone point their finger to the gay couple and scream “HEY THAT’S GAY!!! THIS CAN’T BE PART OF THIS VERY HETEROSEXUAL SHOW WHERE EVERYONE IS OBVIOUSLY HETEROSEXUAL EVEN THOUGH NONE OF THE CHARACTERS HAVE EVER SAID THAT EXPLICITLY BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT THE CREATORS ARE EITHER HETEROSEXUAL OR TOO AFRAID TO LOSE AUDIENCE IF THEY TREAT GAY PEOPLE AS NORMAL PEOPLE!??!! WHAT SORT OF ABSURD NONSENSE IS THAT??!! GAY PEOPLE AREN’T NORMAL!! THEY’RE GAY AND THEY SHOULD HAVE A GAY SHOW JUST FOR THEM IF THEY WANNA GET SCREENTIME” and yadda yadda yadda.

I’m tired of this bullshit. Ever since I was an artist I’ve been rooting for gay ships in shonen manga while knowing they would never happen just because they were gay, and now that we are in our Blessed-By-Satan, Pandemic-Chaotic, What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On, We-Don’t-Know-If-We-Wanna-Go-Back-Or-To-The-Future-Or-Just-IDK-Fucking-Die year 2020, in which the LGBT community is thriving and being louder than ever to fight for our rights, Me, in my twenty four years of fucking age, having gone through several fucking disappointments ONLY regarding this matter, am sitting here on my ass, hopeful as all galactic, glittery shit that for some fucking reason, my new OTP formed by very underrated characters from this very underrated franchise in the southern and western communities, becomes canon because my stupid eyes can see chemistry between them even though those stupid haters’ can’t. But that’s because they’re stupid and homophobic, and they really should just shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna dream, I want to believe. Let a bitch pray in peace.

But even if I’m getting ready for disappointment, I’m gonna make this project happen and I’m gonna have a shit ton of artbooks from this Thunder Flames project inside my fucking garage if no one wants to buy them. But I am going to invest a shit ton of money in it and I am going to have these artbooks come to life. Because I am spiteful and petty and homophobes should shut the fuck up, and I wanna do what I wanna do bc as an independent artist, I’m building my future with my own two, very toned and buff by now from all the drawing I did, hands. 

God fucking damn it.

Jesus christ I’m just rambling at this point, I’m so sorry. If anyone ever reads this out of context people are going to be so confused.

But that’s fine. They won’t. You know why? Cuz I got almost 11k followers here on tumblr but less than 0.5% gives a shit that I’m here, so I’m safe.

Have a nice day, drink your water and fuck homophobes. Peace

[jemmydoolz]

Edgar Has Always Been Kind of a Bitch

hi okay so it's a little after midnight but I'm posting a fic rn bc it's the first fic I've written in like,, a yr and a half and also I'm rlly excited abt it??

anyway battle buddies/fahc jeremwood angst based on ramblings in a gc

(warning for minor assault implications at the beginning, and brief mentions of a suicide attempt at the end)!!!

Fiona and Gavin decide that what Jeremy needs is a night of bevs, and, to put it simply, get wasted, so the crew settles on going to a club that Friday. Jeremy only has one or two drinks, but boy does he get fucked up.

Ryan’s sitting and talking with Geoff and Jack in a booth, sipping a diet coke. He looks over Jack’s shoulder to see Jeremy standing at the bar with a much taller, more intimidating man looming over him. The guy reaches out toward Jeremy, who leans away from the touch. Jeremy nervously laughs and his eyes frantically dart around for someone, anyone who might be able to help him.

“Hello? Earth to Ryan?” Jack waves her hand in front of Ryan’s face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. sorry. Hey, um, I’m gonna go home, I’m just not really feeling great,” Ryan murmurs as he slides out of the booth, already heading toward Jeremy.

“Um, alright, I guess? Drive safe,” Jack calls after him.

Ryan speeds up when he sees the man grab Jeremy’s arm. Jeremy’s face flipped through a thousand emotions at once when he saw Ryan approaching, but eventually landed on confused but grateful. He gave Jeremy a look that said just go with what I’m about to say.

“Hey, babe,” Ryan says. The man immediately drops his grip on Jeremy’s arm. Jeremy does his best not to choke on his own spit when he hears the word babe come out of Ryan’s mouth. He hadn’t heard it in so long, and he didn’t think it would still hurt so much.

“Oh, hey!” Jeremy turns to Ryan and reaches up to peck him on the lips. “Where’d Edgar go? It’s his birthday, I figured he would wanna hang out with his friends!”

Fuck. Mentioning something about their friend ‘Edgar’ was always code for I don’t feel good about this, let’s leave. Edgar’s birthday meant I’m having a panic attack, I need your help. Ryan wanted to punch the guy that was practically feeling Jeremy up. No—he wanted to fucking kill that bastard. He and Jeremy may have had a severe falling out, they may have suffered years of heartache and longing, but he still felt responsible to make sure Jeremy was safe.

“He said he kinda wanted to go home. He went to the bathroom while I found you. You, uh, just about ready?” Ryan’s eyes flitted between Jeremy and the other man, who cleared his throat and mumbled something about needing to go find his friends before walking off.

Jeremy and Ryan both sigh in relief once he’s gone.

“Wanna head outside for some fresh air for a minute?” Ryan asks, getting a meek, obviously shaken-up nod in return.

Jeremy says something that Ryan can’t quite hear over the music as they walk outside.

“Hm?”

“Oh, nothing. It was dumb.” Jeremy shakes his head. Ryan has had enough experience to know that it was better to just leave it alone. They both wordlessly come to a stop and lean against the wall of the building a few yards from the door. Almost as if they had been working as partners for years. They spend a few minutes saying nothing, watching people on the street, looking at the stars in the sky. Ryan can’t help but study the intricacies of Jeremy, realizing that so many things have changed, but somehow almost nothing about him is different. Jeremy’s hair is just a tad bit more grown out than it ever was at the agency (also, it’s bright purple and orange, which is not exactly the most appealing color combination, but that’s a topic for another day), but he still runs his hands through it when he’s lost in thought. It’s curlier than it used to be, but maybe that’s just because it’s longer. He still clenches his jaw so hard it seems like he’s going to break his teeth when he’s scared. He still wears a tank top under his shirt, no matter how hot it is outside. His eyes still crinkle at the corners when he lets out a bark of laughter that Ryan still swears up and down sounds exactly like a squeaky toy. He’s changed, though. Ryan can see in his eyes that he’s become aware of reality. He knows the responsibility he carries, the heavy consequences that come with his actions, that death is around the corner at every moment.

“D’you- d’you want me to take you home?” Ryan says barely above a whisper, but loud enough for Jeremy to hear. “You can go back inside if you want, but I know you always used to want to go home and be alone after Edgar shows up.” Jeremy lets out the tiniest breathy chuckle.

“Edgar has always been kind of a bitch, hasn’t he?” Jeremy says as he looks away from the sky to meet Ryan’s gaze, and his heart falls apart all over again for the thousandth time. That fond look of reminiscence and joy was one Ryan donned frequently at the agency. “I- Yeah. yeah. I’d really appreciate a ride home. I’m just a little too drunk to drive, I think.”

“Alright. I parked just down the street. Penthouse or your apartment?” Ryan hadn’t even noticed that Jeremy did seem somewhat tipsy; his Boston accent slipping in occasionally and his words slurring the tiniest bit.

“Um, apartment,” Jeremy says. “D’you rem-”

“Yes, I remember where your apartment is, Jeremy.”

It’s only a few minutes into the drive to the other side of town when Jeremy pipes up. “I honestly didn’t really expect you to help me. I didn’t expect you to remember Edgar, either. I dunno why I said it, I guess just vaguely hoping you would even though it’s been, what, three years?” he pauses for a moment and just takes in Ryan's profile. “I always hope you remember things from then. I know it went to shit, but we still had so much fun. We made so many memories and did so much dumb shit there. But I’m glad that stupid fuckin’ place collapsed. All of it was complete bullshit. I just wish it all fell apart before we did.”

Ryan doesn’t know how to respond. So he doesn’t.

“All those meetings I had to stay late for? Fuckin’ useless. They served no purpose, and I don't know why I was forced to go to them. I feel like the only reason I had to go to those meetings was because someone was hiding something from me. It was obvious that so many things were kept from us.” Jeremy stops for a second to try to will away the lump rising in his throat. “I thought you were cheating on me. For the longest time. I still don’t know whether you actually were. You were always out on ‘special missions’ and shit.”

The moment Ryan hears Jeremy let out a shaky breath his heart breaks.

“Was it me? Was I not good enough? I promise I tried my hardest to be what you needed. I’m sorry if I wasn’t. All I wanted was the best for you, Ryan. Even now, I just want you to be happy. If you're happier with someone else, then that’s what I want. I don’t blame you, though. I don’t deserve someone like you. You deserve so much better than me. I would do anything for you, Rye. We were together for so long. We did everything together! I thought I was gonna marry you. I was saving up money to get a ring. I guess I was too stupid to see that you didn’t want me anymore.”

Ryan looks over to see the tears staining Jeremy’s cheeks reflecting the soft orange glow of the streetlamps. Is this really what Jeremy thinks?

“I was so in love with you, Ryan Haywood. I’m- I’m still in love with you. I love you so goddamn much it hurts sometimes. Every time I see you hurt, upset, angry, anything other than healthy and happy my heart aches. I’m sorry I wasn't enough. I promise I tried. Fuck, I tried so hard.”

With every sob Jeremy lets out, Ryan's heart breaks just a little bit more. The short distance left until Ryan pulls up to Jeremy’s apartment building is spent wordlessly. Jeremy’s clambering out of the car and reaching to grab the door when Ryan speaks.

“Hey, Jer, do you want me to walk you up? I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve already been a pain in your ass tonight, I don't need to waste even more of your time. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.” Jeremy sniffles and wipes his cheeks, giving a half-hearted smile before shutting the door and walking away.

Ryan sits there for a second, unable to process fully what he just heard. He starts driving without even knowing where he was going, and he’s so lost in his thoughts that suddenly he’s sitting in his car in front of the boardwalk along the beach and crying. He can’t believe anything he was just told—there is no way in hell that the brilliant, witty, talented Jeremy Dooley ever doubts his worth. It’s jarring to think that part of it was because of Ryan. He was going on extra missions because the agency was growing more and more demanding. For months they tormented Ryan with the threat of kicking out Jeremy. They said they’d do other things to him that Ryan doesn’t want to remember. Why did Jeremy never bring it up? Why did he just accept that Ryan had ‘moved on?’ Their lives were so intertwined with one another that Ryan never felt truly whole again. The only reason Ryan went with the break up was that he saw how distant and cold Jeremy had gotten. Ryan had assumed that, for whatever reason, Jeremy had changed his mind. He hated it, he was devastated, but he didn't know how to fix it.

Ryan decides he doesn’t want to go back to the penthouse tonight. He pulls up to the nearest crew safehouse, and suddenly things click.

Jeremy had always struggled with bad self-image and depression. He had gone to Ryan for comfort, which he was always more than willing to give. Jeremy was doing better. At least he told Ryan he was.

Jack had mentioned a while ago that when Jeremy first joined the crew, she had found him after a suicide attempt and barely left his side until he recovered. The only reason for it Jack had told Ryan about was ‘emotional trauma from a past relationship, that he didn’t really want to talk about.’

Ryan did that to him.

Ryan did that to him.

Ryan made the love of his life want to die.

The pieces left of his heart fall into more shards than there are grains of sand in this world.

He collapses onto the couch inside, too exhausted to even get to the bed. He knows he’s not going to be able to sleep, though.

To: Geoff

Dropped Jeremy off at his place, he was pretty drunk though so check on him please

To: Geoff

I’m staying at kung fu safehouse for the night

[tkaslut4ratchuk]

Pending Title-Brendan Lemieux

Requested: Yes

Warnings/AN: smut, sex, fuck, whatever you wanna call it. cockwarming fersure, breeding kink if you squint and widen your eyes. First time writing/posting smut so like... also: if you see anything annoying please for the love of God and all that is holy, tell me bc I’ve been staring at this piece nonstop for the last two weeks and I’m ngl, I lost my ability to care whether or not the grammar made ANY sense.... okay... umm without any further adieu?? godimnervous

‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I thought to myself. ‘This man will be the absolute death of me.’ There he was, once again, going toe-to-toe with some asshole that I didn’t bother paying enough attention to, to catch the name of. “There he goes again,” I mutter to myself, but Elise heard me and chuckled.

“What? You don’t like it?” She asked.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I do. A lot more than I probably should, actually. It’s just… He’s fighting… Again.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she chuckled in reply, and we went back to watching the game. ‘Well, technically the fight. I wonder if he’s aware of my feelings on it.’ Despite my mild annoyance, my eyes stayed zeroed in on Brendan until he made his way to the penalty box. After the fight, the remainder of the game passed relatively slow—though, conversation with Elise and the other WAGs helped pass the time a little easier, the had I been alone.

The game had ended and now I stood in the hall by the locker room, scrolling through instagram while I waited for Brendan to come out. ‘Maybe—just maybe—we can go home and I can work through his thick skull how…frustrated I am.’ I’m leaning against the wall when he finally opens the door and comes out. I looked up from my phone, making eye contact with him at the same time. I shook my head at him with a small smile pulling at my lips. He gave me a wide smile right back and held his arms out for a hug. “What?” He asked.

I rolled my eyes in reply as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’m starting to think I need to get seats closer to the box,” I say, looking up at him.

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “You find it hot!” He had a cheshire grin that graced his lips and an arm around my waist—the other hand being occupied by his bag.

“No…I find it annoying.”

He laughed at this—that cute, big belly one—causing a soft smile to break out on my lips. Pressing a kiss to my hairline, he gives a tap to my ass and suggests that we head home.

…

The drive home was a quiet and comfortable one, with me glancing over at Brendan every now and then, and his hand resting warmly on my thigh. Once we are at home, we went straight to the bedroom, after dropping our things at the door. We’re both getting ready for bed—me, slipping into an old shirt of his and a pair of sleep shorts and him, only just hanging his suit jacket and tie, and unbuttoning his shirt. I look over at him, watching him in the dim lighting from the bedside lamp from the dresser. ‘Such. A good-looking. Hunk of a man.’ I smile and bite my lip, making my way to where he stood in the doorway of the closet. Stepping close, I take care of the remaining few buttons, for him. I run my hands over his bare chest, taking my time up the tan expanse of his strong abdomen to lock my arms around his neck. Looking into his warm, blue eyes, I softly speak. “I love you.” Leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his beginning-to-swell bottom lip. His strong hands—‘Damned cut-and-bruised hands from that stupid fight. Stupid hot fight. Stupid boy.’—make their way around my waist, pulling me nice and close into his warm body.

“I love you, too, baby.” I smile in reply, rising up to my tip-toes to kiss him once more. I pull away but stay close enough that my lips brush against his own, whispering, “You know, I do actually think it’s pretty hot.” And with a sly smirk, I lower myself back down, and head to the bathroom to finish my nightly routine.

After having taken off my makeup and washed my face, I was brushing my teeth when Brendan walks in, wearing nothing but a comfy pair of sweatpants, and wraps his strong arms around my waist and pulls me flush against his chest. I meet his eyes in the mirror with a knowing look, my free hand coming to rest on one of his arms and relaxing into him. He brings his lips to my ear, maintaining eye contact and mumbles, “I knew you were bullshitting.” He then placed a soft kiss on my earlobe. I sigh as I finish brushing my teeth and bend over to spit the toothpaste out, taking care to make sure my ass was flush with his crotch. His grip the tightened on my hips, pulling me closer as he bites his lip. ‘Fuck me.’

I stand back upright re-instilling that intense eye contact with his now darkened baby blues. ‘Just you wait, you sexy son of a bitch,’ I think as I begin scrubbing my tongue. His eyes darken further and he begins kissing a trail down my neck to the spot he knows will send shivers straight down my spine and up again. I moan, dropping my hand to the edge of the counter, and lean into him, a bit. “Fuck, Bren,” I breathe out, my mouth still full of toothpaste. I bend over again to spit and he takes that opportunity to grind into me, letting me feel the start of a raging hard-on. ‘Oops! Sorry, not sorry, babe!’ I barely get to wipe at my mouth before I’m whipping myself around and pulling him down to meet me for a searing kiss. His hands tightened around my waist enough to lift me and place me on the edge of the sink, immediately allowing my legs to find their rightful place around his hips. He begins grinding into my center, leaving me utterly breathless. ‘Both from this and this hot-as-fuck kiss.’ I throw my head back, releasing a wild sounding moan and he moves his mouth back to the spot on my neck. ‘Likely, to leave a mark for me to find in the morning… Not that I’m complaining, certainly not now.’ My hands begin roaming his bare chest, my nails biting lightly into his skin and my legs tighten further around his waist, letting his thick, hard cock press so sweetly against me. ‘Fuck.’ My feet make their way to his waistband, desperate to get his pants off, while my hands bring his face back to my lips. His own hands working to my shorts off. Our mouths not taking a break, tongues in a constant battle with one another.

We finally get our pants off, and Brendan moves his hands slowly up my thighs, moving to my waist and not stopping until he’s above my breasts, bringing my—his—shirt with it. He pulls away from the kiss, successfully pulling a whine from me, with him, and pulls the shirt off, over my head. His mouth begins a trek from my jaw to my breasts, sucking marks into my skin, there, while one of his hands moves to the place that’s been screaming for him since he threw his first punch, tonight. Whimpering, I grab his wrist to stop him and shake my head. “Bren, no.” ‘Fuck, I can’t catch my breath.’ His head snaps up, caught off guard. ‘He’s confused. Sweet, sexy boy.’ “That fight really did me in… I’m so wet, B. I need you.” I’m holding his gaze and smirking, which leads him to smirk right back. Brendan’s hands quickly find their place to my hips and his lips smash back on to mine. Our tongues are mimicking the fight from earlier. This is when he deems it acceptable to strike, shoving his cock deep, leaving it to rest deliciously within my walls.

We both moan into each other’s mouths. He’s stilled for moment to allow me to get used to his size. I’m clenching, I can feel him throbbing. ‘Maybe that’s just me.’ Then, all Hell breaks loose. The grip he has on my hips turns bruising and his thrusting hips show off that strength I witnessed earlier, at the game. “You like seeing me rough, baby? Huh?” he grunts in my ear. I whine in return, my eyes rolling back in my skull. “Yeah, you do. My little slut.” I clench around him, at that. “Fuck,” he grunts. “Like that? Like when I call you what you are?” He’s panting and his thrusts get rougher. “My little slut!” he punctuates that with a rather rough thrust.

“God! B…” I may as well be panting like a dog at this point. “Don’t—Don’t stop! Please…” I whine. He hasn’t moved to touch my clit, yet. ‘Does he even need to, at this rate?’

“Fuck, babe,” he grunts. My nails dig deeper into the skin on his strong shoulders, and he’s nibbling on the spot behind my ear. I could feel myself getting closer. Each thrust of his becoming more and more pronounced. “Your cunt,” thrust, “‘so perfect,” thrust, “my God, so tight.” t h r u s t.

“More,” I whimper, clenching my eyes from the intense pleasure. He slides his hand from my hip to my knee, raising it higher around his waist, allowing him to get deeper and hit the spot that had me seeing stars. I yelped out at that. “So big, Bren. Fuck!”

His grunting grows more and more, and if it weren’t for it being in my ear, I might not have noticed from how much I’m feeling. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, baby,” he grunts out, and I moaned aloud at that. “Nice and full.”

‘Am I crying, right now?!’

“So full! Please!” I cry out, choking on the pleasure-filled sobs.

“Open your eyes, baby. Look at me!” I do as he asks, meeting his beautiful eyes, and I cum—with a shout, might I add. ‘Holy fuck! He’s so pretty…surrounded by stars…’ He gives one final thrust, letting go with such a guttural groan, that it sparks another mini-orgasm in myself. ‘Fuck. I am definitely crying now, if I wasn’t already, before.’ He works us through our orgasms, slowly, as I held him tightly and as close as possible, my head nestled in the crook of his neck. He can’t detach himself from me or pullout, much less—not that he was making any move to.

We’re panting in each other’s ears, and his arms make their way around me, hands rubbing my back, up and down, in a calming fashion as I am definitely whimpering, right now. He pulls back enough to press a kiss to the top of my head. I look up and meet his eyes and he furrows his brow. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Babe, why didn’t you sa—“ I shake my head at him. 

“So good, Bren,” is all I can whimper out, before I shove my head back into his neck, knowing that I sound rightfully wrecked. I pull him close again and feel our cum start to leak from where we’re joined—it makes me twitch, just a little, around him.

Brendan starts to pull out at that, but I pull him back, looking back up at him. “No! Longer, B…” He chuckles in reply and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Let’s take this to the bed, then, yeah? ‘M sure your ass has surpassed being asleep at this point.” With that, he carries me off to bed, taking care to stay connected. ‘And inside... Hmm... I should request this more often.’ He maneuvers us so that he’s on top, knowing the weight of his sturdy body brings me comfort. My arms stay wrapped around his neck, and he brings his own under my shoulders and brushes my hair and a couple stray tears from my face, kissing the dried ones.

“You okay, baby?”

I nod in reply, a sniffle slipping through. He presses a soft kiss to my lips. And then another, and another, and then we’re laying there so deeply entwined with one another, just exchanging soft, wonderful kisses.

“I love you, Brendan,” I murmur against his lips. My voice still quite wrecked.

“I love you more,” he smiles and pecks my nose. His cock shifts just so, as he does it. I whimper and clench, tight, around him. His forehead drops to mine as he lets loose a soft huff of air.

‘Is he getting hard again?! Who the hell am I kidding? Between this and all his cum, I’m wetter than a cold beer on a hot summer day…’

I whimper as I feel him harden and I buck a little into his hips. He rolls his hips into my own, successfully grinding into my clit and eliciting a whine from my lips. That’s how it continues as we find a sweet and slow rhythm. We’re barely moving but it’s just enough to get us close to plummeting off the edge again. Panting into each other’s mouths, murmuring of sweet nothings—the complete opposite end of the spectrum from how this night started, in the bathroom, no less.

“S’ good, Brendan,” I whisper against his parted lips, combing my fingers through his unruly locks. He shifts, just so, making clench tight around him and hold him close. I moan and let go for what feels like the tenth time, tonight. It take one more before he’s reached his own peak and filling me up again. ‘Fuck, that’s so good…’

He works us through our orgasms and finally pulls out, sitting back on his knees and watching as our combined essence spills out. I watch on in awe as he bites his plump bottom lip, and gives a minute shake of his head as he pushes it back in with his softening cock.

“You’re so beautiful…”

I smile back with a playful grin. “Hmm… I’ll remember that when you end up getting me pregnant.”

He smiles a beautiful wide smile and chuckles a bit, but there’s a certain look in his eye. He then leans over and presses a few gentle kisses to my lips. He pulls away, a bit, muttering against my lips, “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” I nod in reply, this time, pulling him down and pressing another kiss to his lips.

He pulls me up, out of bed and back to the bathroom to get cleaned up and to put on the clothes we had shed, earlier. We crawl back into bed and after getting comfortable, he turns the light off and we fall into a deep, peaceful slumber that only being curled up in the arms of someone you love could help achieve.

[raysofcrosby]

HOMETOWN PT. 2

“𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘐'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥, 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸.” – 𝙎𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙝 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙣, 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙇𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 (𝘹)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥: yes and no

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴): some bad words and a whole lotta angst.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5,664

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺: give me back my hometown by eric church

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: if you haven’t read part one, read it now! otherwise this probs won’t make too much sense lol. anyway, here’s part 2!!! i hope this is good bc tbh i think it’s okay– but i’m also really critical of my writing so don’t mind me. don’t be afraid to shoot me a message with a request, bc it’s summer and i’m bored!! alright, bye i hope you enjoy :)

“An Idiot. I’m such a literal idiot.” Josh mumbled, running his fingers through his hair as he grabbed the scotch off of the bar and slid over a few bills of gratuity to the bartender.

The bartender raised his eyebrows and looked at Josh. “Um sir, you left some money on the–“

Josh just threw his hand in the air and waved the kid off. “Keep it. I’ll be back for more I’m sure.”

Instead of arguing, the bartender nodded and placed the pile of bills into his apron pocket before turning to help someone else. “You’re well aware that you just tipped that kid at least $50, right?” Colt said, coming up to Josh’s side.

Normally, Josh would make an attempt to get the money back. $50 was a shit ton of money to tip a bartender for one drink, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was you. How different your hair had looked– wearing it down as opposed to your normal updo. How you were dressed– no longer hiding beneath his sweatshirts. The way you carried yourself– confident and secure. And the way his name sounded rolling off your tongue– like his favorite dream he’d long forgotten.

You weren’t that same girl he knew growing up. The 8-year-old with braided hair and braces, racing him down the street on rollerblades in the summer heat. The insecure tween with the same braces, and the same braids who spent her summers off at a camp out of town. The shy teenager who was rid of her braces, still kept her hair out of her face but was growing into her own skin, all while cuddled up next to him, fitting perfectly in the crook of his arm. No, you weren’t that girl anymore…you were so much more.

“Let me guess,” Colt sighed as he took a sip of his rum. “You talked to Y/N?”

The mention of your name almost made Josh freeze in panic. He brought his cup up to his lips and took a long sip, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, if you can even call it that.”

“What do you–“

“Dude! Why the hell did you just run off like that?” Dillon asked, shoving Josh’s shoulder before turning his attention to Colt. “Did he tell you what he did?”

“No, but I think we were getting–“

“Y/N comes up as soon as doofus over here says he’s leaving and when she asks if he’s leaving, he freezes!” Dillon shook his head and let his arms drop dramatically. “But then she says hi! Actually acknowledges his existence after 10 years and what does numbnuts over here do?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dillon,” Josh mumbled, taking another sip of his scotch and making sure to admire the burn as it traveled down his throat.

“He fucking says hi…and then he LEAVES. Well, actually no, he mumbles some incoherent bullshit and then he leaves.” Dillon turned to Josh and shook his head. “What the fuck dude, she was standing right there. You should have seen the look she gave Amy and–“

Josh threw his drink back and swallowed the rest of the scotch, this time ignoring the blatant burn as he closed his eyes tightly. After a few moments, he opened them again and looked at Dillon. “You don’t know shit, so you need to shut the fuck up and drop it.”

Before Dillon or Colt could say anymore, Josh turned back towards the bar and nudged his way through the crowd. This reunion had proved to be just as miserable as he thought it would be. If it wasn’t the sneaky looks from old classmates whose names he couldn’t remember, it was the way people approached him as if he hadn’t walked the same halls or attended the same classes as they did all through their school days. They treated him like Columbus Blue Jackets Right Wing, Josh Anderson. Not Josh Anderson, a mediocre science student and all-around athlete who could charm his way out of a tardy slip. And part of him expected it since it had been a little like that once his talent on the ice started to show. Everyone always treated him like he was special than the rest, well…everyone except for you.

When he placed his glass onto the counter, he didn’t even get the chance to open his mouth before the bartender handed him another scotch. Only this one looked to be a double. Josh looked up and the bartender shrugged his shoulders. “No offense, but you look like you need it.”

“You have no idea.” He sighed, holding his glass up and cheering to the bartender before taking a long sip.

“Try me,” He said, picking up empty cups and tossing them into the trashcan. “It’s kind of the part of being a bartender. Make the drinks and then listen to people get the nasty shit off of their chest.”

Josh had no idea who this kid was, but there was something about him that he liked. Whether it be the way he made his simple drink taste like pure alcoholic gold or the way he was straightforward with his words– something inside him told him that if there was going to be one person he would talk to at this stupid place…it was him, not his best friends, not some random old classmate, but the bartender. “What’s your name?”

“Tucker Romero.”

“Romero…as in Grayson Romero?”

“Older brother, yeah.”

Josh felt like he should’ve made a connection somehow. Now that he knew his name, he could see how the two shared some genetic appearances. The same brown eyes, shaggy brown hair. The only thing Tucker seemed to lack of his older brother’s was the height and physique of a hockey player. If Josh was considered good at hockey, then Grayson was a God. Three years older than Josh, Grayson took him under his wing, showing him what workouts to do, how to gain muscle and overall improve his game. He was practically Josh’s idol. If there was anyone who would leave town and go to the NHL, it was Grayson. Until his second year at Michigan when he dropped on the ice during a game.

The fatal prognosis? An underlying heart condition.

Josh could still remember hearing the news at practice at school. How weird coach had been acting all practice and no one knew why. Being boys, they made crude jokes about how he needed to get laid and stupid shit like that. None of it seemed funny the moment he sat them down after practice and told them that Grayson had died. No one but his class and the class above him had known Grayson on a personal level, but they all knew of him on the ice. And his death had hit Josh hard– one of his first times ever dealing with grief and as a 16/17-year-old kid, he had no fucking idea what to do. It was was one of the moments that had defined his grade 11 year.

After that practice, he told the coach he’d lock up and stayed at the rink and shot puck after puck, harder and harder each time. He needed to take his anger out on something. He needed to hit something– it was all he wanted to do…all that he could do. He didn’t care if he made it in the goal, ricocheted the puck off the pipe or bust the glass. There was so much anger rushing through his body and he was scared that he would explode if he didn’t get it out. That’s when you showed up, still in your school uniform and wearing his team sweatshirt. You made a comment about how he was supposed to actually make it into the goal and before he could snap back with something smart; you said that you heard about Grayson. If he thought back hard enough, he could still see the look on your face and the way his body shook as you made your way towards him, practically gliding along the ice.  He could still feel the way your arms wrapped around his waist and how he just let himself sink down onto the ice letting the overflow of emotions take over. In that memory alone, he could still hear your voice whispering to him that somehow, it’d all be okay…and he never understood why or how, but he believed you.

Josh zoned back in on his drink and finished it, plopping the cup onto the counter as Tucker slid him another one. “I’m sorry…about Gray.”

Tucker gave him a nod and a thankful glance. “It’s alright. Kind of crazy how fast 12 years go by though, you know?” He turned back around with another cup of scotch– a single this time. “But I know my brother isn’t what has you downing scotch like a dehydrated dog. I lost you for a second, where’d you go?”

Josh swished the scotch around in his cup as he stared at the swirling liquid. “I ran into someone who I haven’t seen in 10 years and let’s just say our last meeting didn’t end so well.”

“Let me guess, ex-girlfriend?”

It shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, the word ex-girlfriend. Even if that’s what you’ve been…what you are to him after all these years. But it did, it stung like hell and a sip of scotch eased the ache a little. “Her name’s Y/N and yeah, she’s my…ex. But that’s not the reason why I’m all…like this.”

Liar, he was a fucking liar and he knew it. Seeing you again was exactly the reason why he was drowning his feelings in cheap scotch, but he couldn’t admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. “Do you ever just want to…leave this place and never come back?” He could feel the alcohol begin to invade his thoughts, which he knew could either be dangerous or not. But his give a fuck meter was starting to run really low.

“No?” Tucker raised an eyebrow and Josh didn’t understand why he was so confused. It was a straightforward question that could be answered with a straightforward answer. “Think about it man, this place…it’s pretty damn nice. The neighborhoods, the stores, the restaurants, and hell even the people are great. There’s a little bit of everything for everyone, no matter the age, you know?”

He walked off to hand Kiss-Ass McGhee a cup of red wine and Josh closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, hoping that he’d noticed the old class President soon enough to be avoided. “Josh, hey!”

“Well fuck,” he mumbled beneath his breath, sitting himself up straight and turning around with his ‘media’ smile on his face. “Hey, Kis-Kyle! How have you been, man?” He stuck out his hand and shook it, taking in his former classmates appearance. “Looks like you grew into your ears man.”

Shit, was that too mean? Too forward? Josh had already almost slipped up once by almost calling him Kiss-Ass McGhee. Maybe he should cut himself off of the drinks.

Kiss-Ass McGhee just laughed and let their hands fall. “Yeah, grew into them around the same time I finished going through puberty– Sophomore year of college.” He looked over Josh’s shoulder and nodded his head as he took a sip of wine. “We’re getting ready to start the slideshow, but I’ll come and find you after! I’m curious to see how you’ve been.”

The moment he left the bar, Josh let his fake smile fall and he took another sip of his scotch. “I was a dick in secondary. My friends and I used to make fun of him, call him Kiss-Ass McGhee and to be frank, I have no fucking clue why. We overheard someone call him a kiss-ass and just rolled with it.” He took another sip and looked back at Tucker. “But he seems like a good guy.”

“You’re avoiding the topic,” Tucker rolled his eyes and put the cork back in the wine bottle. “But you know, who you are in high school isn’t who you are for the rest of your life.”

It was like déjà vu in his mind as the words left Tucker’s lips. It was pretty much what Dillon had said at the diner– how it’s been 10 years since what went down between you and Josh and there’s no way that the two of you were those same kids. And yeah, he was right…but was he really? Could you have let what happened in the past go? Or were you like him and pushing it further back into your mind and letting it haunt you.

“So you really like this place? Like…there’s not even the slightest feeling of wanting to never see this place again? Leave it all behind?”

“Not really, there are a lot of special places here, you know?” Tucker shrugged at Josh’s confused face and sighed, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I mean, every time I pass that park on Cherry I think about how when I was a kid, Grayson and I would walk home from his hockey practice and he’d always let me stop and play. The theatre? First kiss there with my first girlfriend happened there. The way the streets get all quiet at night, I think about how my friends and I would sneak out with a couple of beers and go sit out in the school parking lot and just talk. Everywhere I look around this place, holds a good memory…and sometimes when I’m down in the shitter, those places help.”

Josh knew exactly what he meant because the moment he crossed into town, it was as if everywhere he looked had a highlight reel of happy moments stored in his brain. The empty field where everyone would gather at the end of the summer and have one last summer party. The streets where all the kids on his block would play street hockey in the summer heat and rotate houses for lemonade and popsicles. The frozen lake where he’d kissed a girl for the first time…where he’d kissed you for the first time. And the diner, God walking back into that place with the boys felt like he was a prisoner on death row and walking towards his own execution. 

That place…that place was your guys’ safe haven. Where you’d go after every hockey game and do homework together, though he’d spent more time watching you do your homework than doing his own. In the summers, after days on the lake, your parents would send you guys to grab food for the families and laugh about how tired your arms would be after carrying it all back into their backyard. How that booth off in the corner…that one red booth that had been your safe haven so many times, was also where everything went wrong.

“Good Evening everyone, thanks for coming out tonight!” Kis–Kyle said, speaking into the microphone. “I’d just like to give a quick thanks to Mallory Johnson and Vic Geiger for helping me get all of this together. And, of course, to Principal Sanders for allowing us to use the gym for the reunion tonight.”

The crowd followed Kyle McGhee and applauded at the courteous shout outs before settling down again. “I don’t know about you guys, but when the time came for this reunion, I honestly didn’t want to go. I mean, it’s been 10 years since we last walked those halls, sat in those seats and since most of us have all been in the same space together. For me, it wasn’t about how much time has passed that worried me. I wasn’t worried about being asked a million questions about what I do now, do I have a family, and am I happy? No, I think what worried me the most, was standing in this room and remembering everything as if it happened yesterday.”

For the first time in his life, Josh found himself focused in on what Kiss-Ass McGhee had to say. It wasn’t the alcohol making him focus in, it was what the speech entailed. It was as if Kiss-Ass McGhee was pulling the fear right out of his gut and spilling it all on that stage.

“I was worried that the memories that I had made here, the friends I hung out with at lunch, the clubs I joined, the parties I never went to– that all of it would somehow leak itself into my present and I would lose myself in the person that walked these halls.” He took a sip of his wine and shook his head. “Not like that’s a bad thing either, you know? Cause I graduated with no regrets, great friends and amazing memories. I’m proud of the person I am back then. But coming back here now, 10 years later, 10 years wiser and better looking, I was scared that I would reminisce on this time of my life– and regret everything that I did.”

“Should I have gone to those parties? Did I really need to join another extracurricular? Why didn’t I ask Y/N L/N to that winter dance in grade 9,” Josh could feel his eye twitch as a few laughs filled the gym and his eyes wandered on the crowd…looking for you. Were you laughing at his joke? Were you blushing? Was it even a joke? …Would you have gone with Kiss-Ass McGhee if he asked?

“Anyway, the point I’m making is, I was terrified of coming here today because, for some strange reason, 10 years just didn’t seem enough. But standing here in front of all of you, seeing everything that you guys have accomplished since we graduated, whether that be starting your own business, achieving a Ph.D., starting beautiful families…winning a Stanley Cup– seeing my old classmates do these amazing things with their lives, trumped any fear that I had.”

“There’s something special about the class of 2012 and there has been the moment we graced the halls as tiny Niners. And it’s evident that this class is still special, because of everything we’ve become since then. There’s a quote I found that I thought would be great to share before I played this video,” He cleared his throat and read it off of his phone. “Always remember to slow down in life; live, breathe and learn; take a look around you whenever you have time and never forget everything and every person that has the least place within your heart.”

Josh doesn’t know why he did it. Whether something inside of him told him to look that way or what– but when he shifted his vision slightly off of Kiss-Ass McGhee and to the right…he saw you, and you were looking right at him. He opened his mouth as if you’d be able to understand anything he could say from so far away, but instead, he chickened out again and brought the scotch to his lips and looking at the video playing on a portable screen.

It was weird, seeing the younger versions of them as the old videos and pictures played across the screen. At some of them, Josh couldn’t help but laugh– a real, hearty laugh. Like the one after the Championship hockey game where you could see him and Dillon flying in the air to add onto the dog pile on the ice, or the tacky themed spirit weeks. For the first time that night, he found himself looking back on his time here with a positive outlook.

Until you popped up on the screen, or better yet– a picture of the two of you in your final year of secondary– right after the school celebrated the fact that he had gotten drafted into the NHL by Columbus. The two of you were smiling so hard that it looked like your eyes were closed. You were facing each other, both sporting Columbus Blue Jackets gear– matching long sleeve shirts. He felt his throat tighten as the picture stayed up and his eyes took in the smiles, the laugh you two were sharing when the picture was taken and the way you were tucked into his side.

It was too much. He had to leave.

He couldn’t even finish off his scotch before he gave Tucker a few more bills and slapped them onto the counter. “Thanks for everything Tucker, I’ll see you later.”

Giving a knowing nod, Tucker put the bills into his pocket and picked up Josh’s cup as he turned away. Josh kept his head down as he made is way towards the exit of the gym, making sure he stuck to the back of the crowd as to not draw any attention to himself. When he made it out of the double gym doors, he raised his head a little more and walked through the next set, putting himself outside. It wasn’t enough; he needed more space away from this place, away from you. He knew he couldn’t drive, the four scotches would soon hit his system and he’s not irresponsible. He pulled out his phone to order an uber when he saw a taxicab waiting a few feet to his right. Sending a silent prayer up to whoever was listening, he jogged over to it, knocking on the passenger window. “Are you working?”

“Where do you need to go?”

Shit. He didn’t even think that far, he just followed his gut and left the damn gym. There were a ton of places he could go, but how would he even pick. He got into the back and closed the door. “Just drive away from here, I’ll pick a place to stop.” He could tell the driver thought he was batshit crazy, but didn’t question him anyway.

“Alright, wherever it is.”

As the taxi pulled out of the high school parking lot, Josh could only feel the pressure in his chest get tighter. This wasn’t supposed to happen, getting away from that place was supposed to make him feel better– not worse. He ran his fingers through his hand and then down his face as he closed his eyes and groaned. His head was throbbing as his conversation with Tucker and Kiss-Ass McGhee’s speech rang through his head.

“Everywhere I look around this place, holds a good memory…and sometimes when I’m down in the shitter, those places help.”

“…and never forget everything and every person that has the least place within your heart.”

Josh took a deep breath and let his hand fall from his face as he opened his eyes and saw what was ahead. “Take a right at the turn light and pull into the parking lot, please.” Not bothering to look at how much he grabbed, he handed over the bills as the driver came to a stop. “Thanks, have a good night.”

He got out of the cab and closed the door behind him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he walked across the parking lot and to the door. Opening them, the bell above his head rang and he stepped into the building. When he was a teenager, the diner was always busy around this time– filled to the brim with students, which it was now…but none of them were his classmates.

He looked around and saw that the booth was empty. It was rough, getting his feet to move in that direction, but he did it anyway and soon enough he was standing right beside it. He stared at the glossed table, running his fingers over the cold surface before sitting down with his back to the door. He didn’t know why he was here and the anxiety was brewing within him as his legs bounced beneath the table and his fingers tapped in an untimely rhythm on the table as a memory flashed through his mind.

God, why was he here?

The bell above the door rang again and when he looked back, it was you. Before now, you’d always arrived at the diner at the same time– like you guys were synced somehow. But lately, one is always a little early or a little late– never on time. That was the first thing he’d noticed, but you’d noticed a lot more. Maybe it was the fact that you had always been more attentive when it came to noticing the small things– like how when he’d hold your hand he’d always rub his thumb against yours. How he no longer would come up from behind you and hug you and rest his head on top of yours before making a joke about how he was taller than you. The way he seemed tuned in to whatever you were saying, but the interest wasn’t there anymore.

And it’s not like he was the only guilty one. You hated to admit it, but there were times when you’d stare at your ceiling late at night in bed and make a pros and cons list of your relationship. Most of the time, the pros heavily outweighed the cons– but after that first year of juniors…it seemed as if the opposite side was starting to grow. You didn’t want to blame it on hockey, because that wasn’t the issue. Hell, you couldn’t pinpoint the issue even if it was blown up and glowing like a Vegas sign. But you wanted a reason; you needed for there to be a reason why things just didn’t feel the same.

Almost 3 years and now things started to feel different and you couldn’t help but wonder…have they always been different and you guys were too wrapped up in each other to notice?

When you sat down across from him, the shake you normally shared was already sitting in the middle– two straws probably put there by Mrs. O’Donnell no doubt. The summer was coming to an end, so the diner was busy with teens fresh off the water and chowing down on burgers and fries around you guys– but when Josh looked at you, it was as if you were the only two in the room. You tried to read his face, was it sad? Angry? What the hell was going on in that thick skull of his? Why did he call you here when you normally come to the diner together on Friday’s…which was tomorrow. You’d always been able to read him, you have since you were kids. But right now…there was nothing. When had that changed?

“Y/N…” Josh said, his voice a little low as he tapped his fingers on the table. He’d been going over in his head just how he was going to break the news to you. That he was going to stay with the Knights for the next two seasons. There was the subtle approach, the hinting around approach, but he couldn’t make up his mind.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, seeing the conflict hiding behind his eyes. It only made your heart race and your mind wonder if the one thing you’d wanted to avoid, was getting ready to happen. “Are you–“

“I’m staying in London with the Knights!” He just blurted it out and the moment the final word left his lips, he just stared at you in shock. The direct way…was not the way he wanted to go about it.

You let out a breath that you weren’t even aware you’d been holding. “Okay?”

Josh sat back, visibly in shock as his eyebrows furrows. “Okay? That’s it?”

“Well yeah…what else am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, maybe more than just Okay. I mean, you were suggesting I move over and play for Mississauga Steelheads….”

Now it was your time to be shocked, not only at how the tone in his voice had gone from shock to accusatory but the way he was forming the situation. “I suggested that because you said you were unsure about whether or not you were going to stay with London.”

“I never doubted that.”

“Oh my God, yes you did! You called me every night and complained about playing time or how you got moved down a line and the coach was switching you up constantly!” You caught yourself before your voice could get a little higher. “You were the one who talked about leaving the team first, not me.”

Josh could feel himself begin to get frustrated because he knew it was true. He knew that he’d called multiple times throughout the seasons to vent his frustrations with how it was going. But that was it– it was just pillow talk from far away, thinking that his girlfriend could be the person he could vent to with no judgments. But now here it was, biting him in the ass as you sat across from him. “Was it really just a suggestion?”

“What?”

“Why Mississauga? Why not Niagara? Ottawa? Hell, even fucking Plymouth? Why Mississauga when they’re at the bottom of the standings?”

You let yourself fall back into your booth in disbelief because you knew what he was insinuating. “I can’t believe you’d even…”

“Tell me, Y/N because I’m dying to know,” Now he was letting his anger take control and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop it. The only people, who were able to control it, were you and his mom– and right now, you were the target. ”I know why you didn’t apply to UBC.”

He leaned his arms on the table. “It’s all connecting, Y/N– it’s all starting to make sense. You didn’t apply because you’re scared. You’re scared to go off to Vancouver without a safety blanket and that’s not me– I’m not your safety blanket. I’m not something you can keep wrapped around your arm.” The more he spoke, the sharper his tone became and he couldn’t do anything to stop it even as he could see the emotion all over your face. “That’s why you told me Mississauga! Because…because you want me here, with you isn’t it? You want me playing on the shittiest team in the Central division so you won’t be scared. So you can have me on your arm and say you’re dating a hockey player.”

You could feel the tears build in your eyes as his words kept digging beneath your skin. “That’s not true and you don’t mean these things, you’re just angry and–“

“STOP!” His voice silenced the couple behind you and you wanted to sink into the booth at the unwanted attention. “Stop putting things in my head and don’t lie, because it’s true. You’re so scared that you’re willing to drag my career down by telling me that Mississauga would make me happier but it won’t! It won’t make me better, it won’t get me to the NHL and it won’t make me happy!”

You couldn’t even begin to process what he had just said because your mind was only focused on one thing– ‘you’re willing to drag my career down.’ At this point, there was no stopping the tears from falling down your flushed cheeks as you looked at him. “How fucking dare you say that I’m dragging your career down.”

He pushed himself away from the table, his eyes wide as if he had just understood what he said himself. “I–“

“No, don’t talk,” You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath to try and compose yourself. “You don’t get to accuse me of trying to sabotage your career when all I wanted for you, was to see you follow your dream and make it to the NHL. For the last year, I’ve put you and your dreams ahead of my own. Because I l-love you and I want you to succeed.”

You don’t know how you were able to do it, but you stood yourself up from the booth and managed to stand up, refusing to let him see how shaky your legs were. “I don’t care about dating a hockey player because newsflash Josh, we live in fucking Canada and they’re everywhere!” You went to walk away, but you reached up and held onto the necklace he had given you for Christmas. It was a gold locket with pictures of the both of you and sharing the chain with it, was a gold charm of his jersey number.

You brushed your hair to the side and undid the necklace, not bothering to clasp it back again as you dropped it on the table in front of him. He looked up at you for the first time since you moved out of the booth– not even the slightest look of regret on his face. “I didn’t apply to UBC, because I got accepted into Fanshawe.”

A look of recognition flashed across his face and it only made your heart hurt more. You put aside your dream school to be near him in London– news that you were planning on surprising him with today since the acceptance letter was resting in your purse. But instead, he accused you of holding him back. “Y/N I–“

You let your face go stone cold, ignoring the aching feeling in your chest as you stared into his blue eyes. “Have a nice life, Josh.”

You walked away from the booth, having trouble holding back any further tears from falling and focusing on walking straight without wanting to collapse from ache on the floor. As soon as the bell rang above the door and the summer breeze hit your face, the façade you’d maintained, crumbled down as the breeze carried your sobs away.

The clink of a glass plopping down in front of him tore Josh away from the depths of his memory. He kept his head down but looked up through his eyelashes to see a milkshake as a body slid in the other side of the booth. When he looked up, his jaw dropped.

“Let’s try this again, yeah?” You plopped the two straws into the milkshake and crumbled the wrappers, tossing them onto the counter. “Hi, Josh.”

[artificialqueens]

Honey (Monet x Monique) - Ortega

a/n: this is just my way of letting u all know that i stan Monet and Monique and ship them so bloody much that this happened. me n Salem (Citrus) were talking about how funny it would be to call this fic Honey bc of all the Trixie stans that fucking hate the brown cow/sponge chat, but also because of the Kehlani song Honey that reminds me so much of these two being pure. enjoy n pls let me know what u think! (p.s. last chapter of Game is coming i promise xxxxx)

Summary: performing arts college au, two gals being pals. Monet reminisces over how she got together with her girlfriend. Monique just wants to eat ice cream tbh.

The clock was ticking so slowly. Time seemed to be moving slower than it ever had done before in Monet’s life, but that always seemed to happen in tutorials. It seemed to happen even more frequently, she found, when Valentina was talking. Usually she would listen and try to contain her laughter as the girl flipped her long, straight hair about her shoulders and went on a long, self-centered tangent which had nothing to do with the topic at hand, but today her voice was grating. Performance showcases were coming up, and she had to practice. She had better things to do with her time than listen to her drone on in that high, affected, airy-fairy voice about…what the fuck was she even talking about?

“…and so I think if I chose that it would really highlight my vocal versatility, plus I could work in a costume as well, and maybe do a dramatic monologue at the start to illustrate the character,” she said, appearing to be finished. Monet looked over at her tutorial leader, Jinkx, who was half-asleep and very confused.

“Um…sorry, I don’t see how we got from the prevalence of 5/4 time signatures in later Jazz music to…” Jinkx blinked. “…you performing in your final showcase as Jean Valjean.”

All eyes shifted to Valentina, who blinked back at her. “I mean, isn’t it obvious? I feel I made my train of thought very clear.”

As Jinkx steered the conversation back to whatever the fuck it had been about in the first place, Monet scribbled in her notebook. She still hadn’t sorted her setlist out for her performances, or organised the band, and it was only a fortnight away. She was stressed. She almost didn’t notice her phone buzz.

Mo: bitch what the fuck was that all about?!?!?!!?

Mo: is she on crystal meth?????

Pause. Buzz.

Mo: why u ignoring me sis???

Mo: this is no way to treat ur girlfriend u whore

Pause.

Mo: i know ur seeing these u bitch

Monet gave a light sigh and looked up. There, opposite her, was the living spambot herself that she had the privilege (or curse, she joked internally) to call her girlfriend, Monique. Her huge mane of dyed orange hair was blown out to frame her face perfectly, and the lids of her eyes sparkled with purple glitter which matched her highlighter. Monet’s heart did a flip. It still did when she looked at her, even after the 1 and a half years they’d been together. It seemed simultaneously like such a long time and also no time at all. It didn’t even count the two years beforehand that Monet had spent with a crush on her, which probably made it seem longer. Monique hadn’t noticed Monet looking at her yet and was still typing with her huge pointy nails, a feat which never ceased to amaze Monet.

Mo: here’s a nude i took earlier

Mo: 26012019_602040.jpeg

Just as Monet was about to tap on the picture, she heard her name being mentioned. She looked up with a start, the heat rushing to her face as if everybody could see her texts. The whole room was looking at her expectantly, save for Monique who was looking just as rabbit-caught-in-headlights as Monet imagined she was.

Jinkx gave a kind smile, obviously seeing that she hadn’t been paying a blind bit of attention. “Have you started thinking about the showcase much yet, or not at all?”

Monet gave a grateful exhale. Then, she thought for a second. “I know that I need to get a setlist done but I almost feel like I have too many ideas going on and I don’t know which one to go with? Like I don’t have a theme.”

“Oh, I feel that, honey,” came a theatrical voice from across the room. Trixie Mattel, the scholarship kid, was bright and talented, but also annoyed fuck out of Monet because of her incessant catchphrase. “I sat for ages trying to think of what I should sing. But then I thought, what’s really going to show me for me? A bit of who I am? And then it just hit me- honey! I say it so often it’s such a huge part of me, so why not theme all my songs around it?”

Jinkx smiled at the student. “Which are?”

“Honey, Honey from Mamma Mia: The Musical, Honey I’m Home by Shania Twain, and Honey, I’m Good by Andy Grammer,” she smiled proudly. Monet heard a tiny snort across the room and her eyes immediately drifted to Monique who was sniffing as if she had a cold.

“Well, at least someone’s sorted,” Jinkx shrugged, raising her eyebrows and checking the clock. “Okay, that’s us done. Go practice and get organised.”

There was a wild scraping of chairs and bags flying over shoulders as the other students raced out of the seminar room. Monet was last out by the time she’d packed up and thrown her jacket on, and she left the room to find Monique leaning against the wall in the empty corridor waiting for her. She smiled gently as she saw her girlfriend.

“Good to go?” Monet asked her, running a hand down her arm and taking her hand.

“Well, you took long enough,” Monique pouted, cheering up when Monet squeezed her hand. “If we go get ice cream will you share it with me?”

Monet feigned a sob. “I really need to practice.”

Monique stopped in the hall and did her best impression of a dying kitten. Monet rolled her eyes. “Fine! We’ll go.”

Monique was happy as she walked hand in hand with Monet to the ice cream parlour. She radiated bubbly excitement as she talked about her showcase and how she was going to perform all original songs, including one about a brown cow. This was precisely what Monet loved about Monique- her neverending energy, her lust for life, her complete fucking off-the-wall ideas and creativity that nobody else seemed to have. She’d always been like that in high school, too- you could hear her before you could see her, and it was as if every moment was part of her own, Monique-Heart-based reality show. She was always popular, but not quite in the bitchy sense, and she was always surrounded by her friends: Mayhem, the queen bee, Asia, the makeup artist, Vixen, the bitch never out of detention. Monet always stayed in her lane- after all, there was no real reason for their paths to cross- but she’d often look across the lunch hall to the table of goddesses and feel intrigued and shy at the same time, confused by the feelings that years later she’d recognise as a classic, embarrassing high school crush.  

They arrived at the cafe where Monique sat down, all but grabbed the menu from Monet’s hands, and began flicking through it.

“What do you want?” she asked Monet, not looking up from her flicking. Monet let out a burst of laughter.

“Bitch, you just took the menu from me! How the hell am I supposed to know?! Get whatever you want,” she shrugged, leaning back in her seat and looking out of the window. “I don’t mind.”

It was cold and grey outside but somehow Monique made it seem so much more colourful- a huge lilac sweatshirt with an enormous pair of eyes stitched onto it, patterned blue and green exercise leggings. Stuff that anyone else would be afraid of wearing, but not Monique. Monique was fearless.  

Monique decided on a red velvet and white chocolate sundae. She proudly announced that she chose it because she remembered red velvet was Monet’s favourite, Monet smiling and not letting on that she had no intention of sharing the sundae and she only agreed to get ice cream because Monique would have been sad if they didn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re performing that fucking cow song at your actual showcase. You’re crazy,” Monet laughed suddenly, shaking her head.

“What?” Monique asked incredulously. “So it’s okay for Trixie to theme her whole show around fucking honey but I can’t do a song about a brown cow?”

“Yeah but…” Monet smiled, knowing it would annoy her girlfriend. “…it only works when she does it.”

Monique launched herself across the table to wallop Monet on the arm. Suddenly guilty, Monet reached across and took Monique’s hand, stroking her knuckles gently and taking care to avoid getting stabbed by her nails.

“I’m kidding. Your song’s fun.”

“Oh, it’s a bop,” Monique nodded emphatically.

“Facts are facts,” Monet smiled, using the phrase she knew Monique loved so much.

“Facts are facts,” Monique repeated, beaming at her from across the table. “I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you?”

“No,” Monet deadpanned, taking a sip out of the glass bottle of coke she’d ordered. Monique laughed and mirrored her sip. That was all their relationship seemed to consist of- laughter, constant fun and affection. Monique was funny in her own crazy way, hyper, and Monet was always joking about with her, teasing and poking fun at her until Monique went in a huff and Monet had to faux-beg for forgiveness. She knew Monique always found her funny, though, even though some people thought she wasn’t. In fact, humour was how Monet managed to get Monique on side when they first met properly. It was the first week of Year 13, and they had been put in the same Drama class. They’d been going round the circle talking about the classic bullshit start-of-the-year stuff- what they wanted to get out of the course and suchlike- and a loud-mouthed, domineering girl called Eureka was having her turn. Monet recognised her- she’d always been the year above her in school, but for some reason she was repeating Year 13 (there were rumours it was because of exam failures). Eureka was talking in a faux-humble style of how she already had an agent and how she was going to become a famous actress once the year was over, and that she didn’t really need to be taking Drama to be a professional anyway, she was just doing it for fun.

“Is that why you’re taking it to AS Level for the second time?” Monet had muttered. She thought she’d been quiet, but it had come out way louder than she’d expected, and it got her some glares from some of the bitchier girls. There had been a snort, though, from the other side of the room, and Monet’s gaze had followed it to the source- Monique Heart, who was smiling at her guiltily.

After class, Monet had taken a bit of heat from Eureka and her friends outside the Drama studio, until Monique had turned the corridor. She looked at the girls surrounding Monet, narrowed her eyes, cocked her head, and they’d left. That was the influence she held, and it captivated Monet slightly.

“Did they give you any trouble?” she’d asked, gazing at Monet intently with kind eyes. “Because if they do, just let me know. Vixen’s been looking for an excuse to drag that bitch since she joined our year.”

“Thanks,” Monet had given a quick, awkward smile and walked away, assuming the conversation had been over. She’d been surprised when Monique had caught up with her, walking quickly to match her footsteps.

“I thought it was funny, by the way. What you said. The bitch is so full of shit.”

“Someone had to say it,” Monet shrugged. She smiled to herself. Her heart had felt as if it’d swollen twice its size and she’d felt so satisfied that Monique had found her funny.

“Facts are facts,” Monique had agreed. It was the first time Monet had ever heard her say that. “So how come you’re crashing AS Drama?”

“It’s not a crash, I did A Level last year. I just think we were in different sets,” Monet explained, still amazed that Monique was talking to her. “I’m applying to Performing Arts college. The Academy?”

“Oh, same!” Monique had cried, a high-pitched shriek of recognition. “This is great! Now we can be each other’s emotional support when we do our auditions.”

Monet had smiled, and had gone to say something else when Monique omitted another large cry. As she waved, Monet realised she’d seen her friends.

“I gotta go but I’ll see you tomorrow, Monet!” she’d all but yelled as she ran off to join the other girls. Monet had been disappointed that their conversation was over, until she remembered that they had Drama in first period the next day which was less than 24 hours away.

Monet was suddenly distracted by a wet spoon hitting her nose. She blinked, surprised.

“What was that for?” she asked. Across from her, Monique was halfway through her sundae. Monet had no idea how long it had been there.

“You’ve been staring into space for like, two minutes solid,” Monique explained. Monet took another look at the sundae and laughed.

“You ate all that in two minutes?”

Monique rolled her eyes at her. “Can I be me?”

Monet smiled. “You can finish it. I don’t want any. I’ll still go halfers with you when we’re done.”

“You’re sweet,” Monique said softly, then followed Monet’s gaze out the window. “What were you thinking about anyway?”

“Just us before college. Before we were together,” Monet gave a small shrug and Monique grinned. She seemed eager to say something and was hurrying her current mouthful of ice cream so she didn’t have to speak with her mouth full.

“Remember how nervous I was the first few months we were together in case my parents found out?” she laughed, as if it was a joke. Monet didn’t remember it being a joke at the time. “Then we came here and I’m like ‘Hi, everyone, this is my girlfriend, Monet!’, ‘Hi, America, this is my girlfriend, Monet!”, “Hello, world, did you know I have a girlfriend? Her name is Monet!’. I think the whole college knows by now.”

Monet smiled. “I’m glad you can show me off, it’s what I deserve.”

Monique turned suddenly quiet, something that Monet hardly ever saw. A light blush had hit her cheeks. “I still remember being so happy getting partnered with you for our performance pieces, because it meant I’d get to spend more time with you.”

Monet smiled affectionately. “So was I, but then I was like ‘shit’ because I was already so nervous around you.”

“So was I!”

“Shut up, no you weren’t,” Monet let out a laugh. “You were a motherfucking foghorn around me, I swear I caught tinnitus from working with you.”

“Yeah! I get loud when I’m nervous, sis,” Monique muttered, taking a sip of her drink and looking so meek and so un-Monique that Monet wanted to both laugh and wrap her arms around her and never let go. “If it hadn’t been for Vixen we wouldn’t even be sitting here together now, how crazy.”

Monet snorted. “Yes we would. We’d both have got in here, just we’d probably still be friends and we’d both have huge crushes on each other but be too scared to tell.”

Monique looked indignant. “Hey, I would’ve told you at some point! Just needed to get my nerve.”

“Well, Vixen did it for us.”

It was true that neither of them really had had to make the first move because one lunchtime, just after their final performances and after Monet and Monique had found out they would both be going to the same college, Vixen sat down at Monet’s lunch table right beside her. Monet remembers Bob, Pepper and Cracker looking at them both and then dropping their conversational volume about ten decibels so that they could both talk and listen in. Her friends were so predictable.

“Hey,” Vixen started off. There was a sort of scheming little smile on her face, like she knew a joke that she’d never share with the world. “So Monique wants to know if you like girls.”

Monet vividly remembers drinking from a carton of orange juice and nearly choking on it. “Um. Why?”

Vixen looked at her nails, a small frown coming over her face as she realised she’d chipped one. “Monique’s never been with a girl before but she has this lesbian crush on you, it’s kind of adorable. Anyway, I thought I should ask in case you’re not into that. Pointless raising her hopes if they’re just gonna be crushed.”

Monet had blinked a little at her, while noticing that her friends beside her had dropped all pretence of talking to each other and were now full-on listening to their conversation.

“I mean, I kinda…like her too, I guess?” Monet replied, trying to sound casual when her heart was beating so fast she was afraid it would land her in hospital.

Vixen narrowed her eyes at her. “You kinda like her, or you like her? Which is it?”

“I like her,” Monet replied immediately. Then that same smile had appeared on Vixen’s face as she’d slid off the chair and sashayed over to her usual table. And then Monet had been thrown into a state of panic and anxiety- what if Vixen had been asking for a joke? What if she had just wanted to embarrass Monet, and Monique didn’t feel the same at all? She wouldn’t have been able to look Monique in the eye. She hadn’t dared to look over to the other table and, as her friends had consoled her, Monet thought she’d made a dreadful mistake.

So when Monet had been rushing to her next class after lunch and taking a shortcut she’d though that only she knew, she’d been surprised to see Monique sitting on a bench deep in thought. Self-conscious, Monet tried to hurry past her, but was stopped by a call.

“Mo!”

She turned and Monique was smiling at her gently. It was a genuine smile. It didn’t seem scheming, or part of a set up. In fact, it looked a little shy.

“Hey,” Monet smiled back nervously, perching on the bench. “Sorry I kinda blanked you, I was rushing to get to class.”

“Oh well sorry, you better go!” Monique insisted, appearing more embarrassed by the second. Something in Monet wanted to find out why, so she replied.

“No, it’s okay. I’m late now, might as well commit to it,” she shrugged, looking at the other girl whose brows were furrowed. “How come you’re up here anyway?”

“Just thinking about stuff,” Monique said simply. Still with her eyes on the grass below, she continued. “Monet…”

Monet’s heart was rattling against her ribcage as if it was trying to escape her body. “Mm?”

“Did Vixen tell you? You know…about…me? And…you?” Monique asked calmly, even though looking back Monet thought that her insides were probably as fucked up as her own.

She’d wondered about whether or not to tell the truth. “About you liking me? Yeah, she did.”

Monique visibly cringed. “That motherfucking fruitloop bitch. I’m gonna kill her.”

Monet let out a laugh and Monique joined in too, softly. Her gaze finally met Monet’s own. “She told me that you like me too, though, right?”

Monet was sure she’d felt her heart stop completely, if only for a second. “Um. Yeah, I guess I do.”

There was a pause, and Monet panicked. “Monique, look, I don’t know if this is a huge in-joke you and your friends have, but-”

“Oh no, it’s really not! I promise,” Monique had blurted out. She’d been so far away from her usual chilled out, calm self, and she’d looked back to the ground. “So, uh. Do you want to go get food after school?”

Monet’s heart exploded. “Yeah. That sounds fun.”

“Just to clarify, this would be a date. Like this is me asking you out on a date,” Monique repeated, her eccentric energy slowly coming back. Monet snorted.

“Girl what do you think I am, hard of hearing? I get it,” she’d laughed, leading to Monet thumping her with her bag, standing up, and walking away.

“Don’t bother! It’s cancelled!” she’d cried out to her as she walked off, Monet doubling over laughing and happy in the knowledge Monique didn’t mean a single word.

Fast forward to today and they were leaving the ice cream parlour, hand in hand again, Monique happy and full of ice cream and Monet happy because her girlfriend was happy.

“I never thought it would be this easy, you know?” she mused out loud, Monique turning to her and pulling a confused face. Monet smiled and clarified. “Us. We always wondered how we’d do when we moved here and had to be on the same course but it’s so easy.”

“Of course it’s easy. You’re with me! What are you trying to say, that I’m hard work?” Monique all but screamed, Monet’s face remaining deadpan.

“Yes.”

“Shut up,” Monique laughed, turning and pulling Monet in for a kiss. Monique’s kisses were always so much like her- soft and gentle but with a crazy passion that knocked Monet for six every time. They were interrupted by a disapproving voice muttering something about Jesus and tradition. Monique immediately whipped herself round from Monet’s face, found the culprit (a balding old man) and fired back.

“Sir, the ten commandments said ‘love thy neighbour’, and Jesus said ‘why do you break the command of God for the sake of your tradition?’, so I think the fuck not, bitch,” she all but spat at him. As the man walked away, stunned, she turned and wrapped Monet in a protective hug, which she was grateful for. “Try to out-Jesus me, whore.”

“Do you want to come back to mine and watch something?” Monet asked, trying to take her girlfriend’s mind off the situation.

“Like what?”

“X Files?”

Monique whined. “Bitch, stop trying to introduce me to your fucking alien fantasy! I’m not interested, I don’t get it!”

Monet tried to pull the same puppy-eye face that Monique loved to pull so much. It appeared to work because Monique’s face softened and she smiled, tucking a lock of Monet’s huge wavy black mane of hair behind her ear. “But you like it, so I’ll try to get into it.”

They ended up at Monet’s flat lying spooning on her bed, Monique the little spoon and getting a better view of the laptop screen, Monet just happy at getting to hold her around her small waist. They had long since changed into pyjamas even though it was only around 4 in the afternoon, Monet in a massive t shirt and sweatpants, Monique in a borrowed cami top and cotton shorts, and Monet had drawn the curtains so that her whole room was cosy and dark and illuminated by fairy lights and the laptop.

“It’s alright. The X Files,” Monique yawned sleepily. “Not the best but not the worst.”

“Mm. Just like sex with you,” Monet joked, Monique suddenly waking up to walk across the room as if she was leaving, then returning to her spot in Monet’s arms.

“You can literally go fuck yourself,” Monique bit back, but the yawn that escaped her mouth halfway through softened her words.

Fuck, Monet loved her so much. It got her thinking about how long it could be this good for. All couples hit snags and bumps in the road and, although they hadn’t had any yet, it was surely inevitable. Monet wondered what their first proper argument would be like and if they could recover from it, or if Monique was the type to walk away.

“I can hear you thinking,” Monique interrupted her train of thought, Monet feeling sheepish at having been caught out.

“Just thinking about us,” she admitted. “Wondering how long the honeymoon period is going to last. Before we eventually have a big fight and you leave me.”

Monique sat up abruptly. “And who says our honeymoon period won’t be our whole relationship?”

Monet laughed, tugging her girlfriend down with her. “Okay, yeah. That sounds good to me.”

“Anyway. I like annoying you too much to ever leave you,” Monique smiled, satisfied. She lay back down on the bed, and Monet could feel her stretching.

“Nap?” Monet suggested, stroking Monique’s hair and flipping it over her shoulders and out of her face.

“Nap,” Monique confirmed, wriggling a little in Monet’s arms and getting comfortable.

“I love you,” Monet smiled, kissing her girlfriend’s shoulder then reaching back to tie her own hair in an elastic.

“I love you too, girl,” Monique replied, reaching around to grab Monet’s arm and replace it around her waist.

“Goodnight, Mo.”

“G’night, honey.”

[shellheadtmarc]

Connections: Macready??

you just don’t know what can of worms you’ve opened, bc the fallout nonsense is like a mushroom:  y’all get to see the cute little toadstool that pops up above ground, meanwhile it’s this huge, ever-growing bullshit under the surface we (mercifully) keep in discord until it sometimes spills over.

so this is gonna get long, strap in.

okay.  let’s talk about tony’s relationship with robert joseph maccready: former mayor of little lamplight, ex-gunner, father, and tony’s emotional anchor in the commonwealth...and...everywhere else, at this point, as far as fallout 4 goes.

first things first, let’s clear up any lingering confusion here:  mac and tony are an item.  a thing.  a couple.  they do gross couple things and are sappy and disgusting and i literally hate them.  in fact, in tony’s fo4 companion verse overall, if there’s no shippy intention and mac was never romanced/picked up by a sosu or otherwise, tony directly defaults to his relationship there.  which is to say you usually get a tony that’s fairly settled and comfortable in that relationship and is usually out doing his own thing while mac’s doing his own thing, too.  at the end of the day, it’s home - wherever they’re calling home, typically fort hagen or sunshine tidings, i’m thinking - to mac that he’s going.

anyway, instead of doing a ~how they met~ retelling, lemme hit the major highlights in their relationship that haven’t necessarily been discussed at length so that they make sense.

+ when tony handed over caps (mac said two fifty, tony said two hundred, mac said deal) it wasn’t to hire a mercenary.  he didn’t think he needed one, didn’t want one, and thought mac would slow him down.  instead, it was for information about the gunners because he’d gotten jumped by them down the hill from fiddler’s green trailer estates (the overpass with the big windmill) a couple of days previously.  that was it.  that was all.  he’d inquired about the gunners in bunker hill and one of the caravan hands had pointed him to goodneighbor, telling him there was an ex-gunner merc working out of the third rail he could talk to.  he could have walked out of the third rail that night (the third rail, those not in the know, is a bar in an old subway station in goodneighbor) and not thought twice about it.  unfortunately (or fortunately) for tony, mac saw him win back his caps in a game of pool and decided to pretty much consider himself hired whether tony wanted it or not.

+ joke was on mac, however, tony has a thing about otherwise taking caps from people he considers needing them more.  he does a lot of work for free.  wasteland billionaire tony is not.  more days than not he’s barely got two caps to rub together - he prefers to barter.

+ that was and remains a big bone of contention between them.  it gets better, eventually tony turns the haggling of caps over to maccready and lets him do as he sees fit for the most part, but tony is focused on everything but money (i know, funny right) while mac is super honed in because he’s got a kid to look after - you don’t stop needing caps just because they’re not sick anymore.  part of this is because zetta gives birth to quinn (to be discussed in another one of these asks) and that throws tony fully into parent territory, and part is because while he doesn’t necessarily need a lot of caps to get by and it takes him a while to realize that just because he can scrape by with next to nothing, kids in the picture change that a whole hell of a lot.  the other is because there are just things you can’t make in the wasteland and need to pay for.  medical services are high on that scale - i don’t think tony expects stephen to patch him up for free, and croup manor and the fort hagen blood clinic need caps coming through to keep running.

+ there’s a rewrite of maccready’s quest, because tony moves too slowly for the affinity nonsense in that he’s got his own job to do in the commonwealth which isn’t about pinging affinity goalposts.  and because mac has a sick kid he’s gotta find a cure for now that can’t depend on tony being that slow.  mac decides to take on the waystation of gunners on his own.  tony wigs.  zetta tracks mac down.  tony shows up and it’s just...it’s a mess.  i’m pretty sure he probably tried to fire mac right then and there even if he never really hired him in the first place.

+ we see how well that worked.

+ part of the above is because tony had already caught feelings and tried to grind them into the dirt with a boot heel.  we also see how well that worked.  he hadn’t intended to stay in the commonwealth for any reason.

+ tony blurts out them feels at the worst time imaginable and - for someone with no shame - immediately wishes a hole would open up under him and swallow him whole.  unfortunately, he has to deal with that because there were no sinkholes opening that day.  things go weird and awkward for a while.  assuming - always assume (cough mala the smooch thread cough) - things go plan, things will get straightened out there in the dugout inn (another bar, this one in diamond city (fenway stadium)) when they finally both get their shit together.

+ another point  of note/point of contention is the fact that stephen and mac...don’t...really get along.  stephen’s weird, they butt heads a lot, it all stresses tony the fuck out.

+ to all of the above, tony was actually really leery about mac in the beginning.  and almost all of it has to do with the fact that tony knows what someone seeing an easy payday in him looks like.  the fact that mac, for whatever reasons of his own, sticks around when that doesn’t happen is what brings him around.

+ tony and maccready have a lot in common, as far as shared trauma goes.  they’ve both lost people they loved in horrible ways:  maccready’s wife lucy was killed by feral ghouls, his kid is sick with the new plague (a prewar disease that was also called the blue flu because of the blue boils someone would get with it - and is incredibly fatal) and may not make it.  they both have an ingrained fear of losing someone else they love.  the difference is, overall, mac has his shit together so much better than tony does.  he’s the mature one, if we’re being honest, he’s the one that knows how to handle the day to day domestic in the way that tony actually never really has, even now.  so while they share that, the fact is they’re different enough in the right ways to balance each other out pretty well.  mac is also leader material, but on a smaller scale.  the eventual plan is to get tony to semi-retire (never fully, he’ll never be able to not) and let mac oversee a settlement so tony can tinker.

+ third bone of contention - which isn’t really, it’s just a good example of prewar vs. wastelander mindset - is childrearing.  tony believes in letting kids be kids as long as they can be, especially with how shitty the wasteland can be - but the degree to which he feels that way about it isn’t feasible for the moment.  so it’s not really argument material more...you know you’re raising children of the corn, right?

+ mac absolutely calls tony a mungo, and tony has no idea what mungo means.  he really, honestly thinks mac’s pulling his fucking leg and that it doesn’t mean anything at all.

+ the rock thing:  tony mistakes a rock in the water for a mirelurk one time and maccready never lets it go.  but:  mac keeps handing tony rocks thinking he’s funny.  tony has a box full of said rocks.  he thinks nobody knows about it.  everyone knows about the rocks.  maccready has been known to send genuinely pretty rocks by way of apology when they fight and tony’s grumbling to himself in his lab (in the confines of fort hagen proper).

+ they don’t really agree about synths.  tony is very, very pro-synths are sentient beings and not property.  mac isn’t a fan.  it’s one of those subjects tony actively avoids - and after fallout 4′s main quest endgame has very little bearing on their actual daily lives, though he does do some tourist work for the railroad and doesn’t exactly hide it from mac.  

+ duncan (mac’s kid) finally does get brought to the commonwealth, for the record.

+ in the beginning tony is very much still...fly by the seat of his pants on a lot of things?  he doesn’t think twice about spending longer in the glowing sea than he’s given an estimate for (and with no way to reach him most of the time because of the radiation) or taking off to vegas on a whim (and taking a month to get back because he returns on a caravan full of people important to someone else in this little group to make sure they get there safely), but as time goes on and he settles in, he tends to do this less and less without warning.  he’ll probably never stop completely doing it - tony follows his nose and his gut and thinks it’s way better to ask for forgiveness than permission - but they get to be a rarer occurrence.

+ tony has never given mac a solid nickname.  you know, like pepper or rhodey or happy.  it attaches meaning to it, and for a long while he’s trying so damn hard to not get attached, and now...well, now it’s just a matter of how creative can he get with puns of mac’s name.  he’s also never once in his life called maccready anything but by maccready or a pun thereof.  no rj, no nothing.

+ they’re both rough and tumble - in the sense that playfighting ends with a higher than average amount of boo-boos.  they are, honest to god, children.  how many times has one or the other ended up with mud down their shirt who knows.  not me.  has tony had to have his jaw reset when a tickle fight goes wrong?  you betcha.  has one or the other punched the opposite in their sleep?  oh yeah.  

+ overall they’re very domestic?  like they have a life and it’s not always fun and exciting adventure entering prewar ruins and fighting super mutants or deathclaws or whatever.  a lot of it is day to day bullshit and being adults and chasing after the kids and fixing this generator or that water pump or herding binky the brahmin back into her pen because she got out again and their neighbor from three plots down won’t double check his gate and -  point being, the angst level is actually fairly low, there’s not as much upheaval as you might think, though they do have their fights and arguments about actual life things - less so about iron man, amazingly - and most of that’s down to the fact that they, literally, come from such different worlds, between tony being prewar and mac being a dyed in the wool waster.  like...it’s not a perfect coffee shop au relationship where everything is sparkles and rainbows, they function in a way real people do in that sometimes they don’t agree.  and sometimes they argue.  and they’ll make up and move on.  it’s not dramatic, but honestly i love them so much, i love that about them, how they function like a real couple.

ask about muse connections : accepting @ofspaceandmyth

[roominthecastle]

1) do u ship michael/eleanor 2) if yes pls share ur thoughts and feelings :))

*cracks knuckles* Just remember: you asked for this, anon.

1) Yes.

I am oh so predictable and this dynamic offers everything - literally everything - that gets me going, so I got going at once. Like act 1, scene 1,

“Hello, Eleanor. I am Michael and you are dead.”

A dapper amoral non-human puppetmaster becomes emotionally compromised as a kickass mortal woman keeps foiling his ridiculously meticulous plans, and they end up bonding over the confusing struggle of self-improvement, survival, & being messy benches who love dramaaa?

Honestly, they gave me no chance to even consider resisting this.

2) Oh boy. This is where we duck behind a read more bc length & GIFs

I should probably start by saying that as far as strict canon goes, for now, I only see solid evidence of the tightest, beautifulest friendship btw these two, but the potential for “more” is def there, as well, imo. I broship them on the show and ship them like mad in this nice little bubble of Could Be where I’m happy bc canon is generous w/ the fodder. That being said, the furthest I can see canon pushing this ‘ship is a bittersweet unrequited love area, sth like [ this post ] I reblogged the other day. No bitter Friendzoned™ bullshit bc Michael ain’t a gross-ass dick like that. Friendship is his most precious treasure like he kept the spoon Janet gave him and put it on display in his office. My heart almost gave out at that part. I think he felt lonely and isolated among his kind even before his solo project started going off the rails, forcing him to defect to the human side, so I’m sure he would never consider “friendship only” w/ Eleanor to be some second-rate outcome. (neither would I)

But he is only beginning to discover the various dimensions of human relationships, so his feelings are likely in flux and mixed. He might consider chaste romance friendship, too, since he has no previous experience to draw on whatsoever. I mean, feelings are v difficult to sort even w/ plenty experience as evidenced by the humans around him.

Eleanor is to Michael who/what Chidi is to her, imo. Every round of the Eleanor/Chidi dynamic is characterized by a rollercoaster of “is it platonic or is it romantic or both or neither or what the sweet fork is it?”, and I can imagine Michael going through a bit of that confusion himself as he gets more and more attached to Eleanor but w/o the pressure of “pick a label already and act on it”. A general feeling of attraction (not necessarily sexual) would be natural, esp for a being who is experiencing his first intense connection with someone who actively challenges, rewards, and punishes him in ways no other being has before and no human has ever dared before.

She takes him down a few notches, no question. Chidi is the teacher but Eleanor is the one pushing and pulling Michael along their rocky, scary, insane path of self-improvement, which, just like hers, starts out as an empty nuisance deal of self-preservation (“You get help but only if you take ethics lessons”) and turns into a genuine effort to become better. She insists on him taking these lessons and makes sure he “stays in school” despite the initial difficulties. Out of his 4 humans, she is the one he consistently looks to for emotional pointers, support, and validation.

The subtlest (and my most favorite) display of this is how he keeps half-turning back towards her when he pleads their case in front of Judge Gen.

She is his person who has faith in him when no one else does and reaches him when no one else can or want to. She is his anchor pulling him back whenever he drifts off too far, be it as a result of a massive existential/midlife crisis or venting frustrations in his old, cruel ways like tormenting Chidi:

He listens to her and tries to reciprocate even if it means breaking some fundamental rules of the afterlife or turning on his own kind or giving up his immortality or going behind the back of the All-Knowing Judge who can condemn anyone for eternal suffering with a snap of her fingers. This is the same kind of glitch Janet describes in 111 (aptly named “What’s My Motivation”): to act unpredictably and behave in ways that run counter to how you were programmed to behave. a.k.a. the “human error” a.k.a. LOVE

Eleanor just instinctively gets him in every sense of the word bc they are very similar, and while at first it causes alarm, discomfort, and tension for both of them, it transforms into friendship - sth that I believe has its origins in S1 when he is supposed to be faking everything. That day spent together having all kinds of fun has left some genuine positive marks on both, imo, despite both “participating” to cover an agenda.

This bond is now the kind of stuff that would need only a tiny, unexpected spark to ignite. I don’t think it will in ~that~ way on the show since Eleanor is focused elsewhere in that department atm & maybe forever, but the groundwork is def there, so I can imagine billions of excellent fic scenarios blooming from this + as I said somewhere above, a potential canon scenario where Michael harbors unrequited feelings but keeps silent bc it would be a secret he is ethically allowed - maybe even required - to keep. Again, it is one of the lessons that come up when Janet’s “glitching” and they consider breaking up Jason and Tahani as a solution: “It’s not permissible to ruin their happiness to save ourselves. … It’s okay to keep a secret as long as that secret isn’t harming anyone, and telling them that secret might cause harm.” Michael knows Eleanor needs Chidi to stay on course towards eternal happiness, and, given the group’s track record, telling her that he has feelings could cause confusion sufficient enough to derail everything and that’s not permissible. But this is pure speculation ofc.

Despite the circular narrative and reboots, nothing gained is wasted on this show, it only changes forms and feeds further development. For example, everything Michael pretends to feel and do in S1 he ends up feeling and doing for real in the first part of S2, then gradually gains a more thorough understanding of these actions and feelings in the second half via Chidi’s lessons and by watching/helping others deal with their problems. He fakes it till he makes it. He essentially mirrors Janet, the other non-human member of this group dynamic, who unexpectedly bonds with Jason and her behavior becomes erratic as a result and calms only when she understands what is going on and how to deal with it. Michael’s “demon programming” starts glitching, too, and Eleanor is right smack in the middle of that mess.

Janet “orbits” the “Jason-Tahani unit” w/ a link to Jason, Michael the Eleanor-Chidi one w/ a link to Eleanor, which forms the two interconnected triangles of the show - an “arrangement” further reinforced by the image of Janet and Michael glued to Jason’s and Eleanor’s monitoring thingy respectively at the end of S2.

He is the (recovering) devil on Eleanor’s shoulder sitting opposite to Chidi (also they are the only two guys who wear glasses in the afterlife??), but no matter how well they click and how much fun they have together, it’s Chidi whose presence needs to be tangible (800+ reboots proved that), not his, no matter how/what he feels or what he wants. Removing himself from the equation, sacrificing his own wants & needs, is the only way to ensure Eleanor & Co. have a shot at eternal happiness, so he literally pushes her away and advocates for a solution that involves them completely forgetting about him. It is the ultimate act of selfless love if you think about it, and it makes me feel A LOT.

Also just look at them when she sees he did not die and he sees she (and the rest of the gang, I know, but that’s not our focus here) has not been eternally damned yet bc OFC HE COMES BACK WITH ANOTHER IDEA + 369 BACKUP PLANS + CHEAT CODES bc this is the demon who literally tried a billion ways to sneak them into heaven and was plagued with “after sad” when he failed.

And then we have the scene where he just can’t help himself, breaks yet another rule, and sneaks down/up/idk to Earth to nudge his lost pal back on track and she ofc doesn’t remember him bc the Judge wiped her afterlife memories and he pretends to be her BARTENDER in STING’S DESERT ROSÉ (!!) and delights in her drunken ramblings - it is too much goodness like I’m this close to a Cheers rewatch and also just… THESE FOOLS OWN ME NOW

[kelpiemomma]

wonder woman spoilers ahoy

so i saw wonder woman last night and it was p good. a few things about it i didn’t quite agree with, just on general principles, but it was enjoyable. i kept turning to my mom a couple times and making comparisons- it reminded me in a way of a female captain america story. i never actually saw captain america, but it’s essentially one huge flashback. it’s set during world war 1, and i know captain america was ww2, but, you know. set in the past. but the things that bothered me:

this got longer than i expected so it’s under a read more

on the island of amazons, the two people in charge are two white women. thats kinda eh to me. the greatest general and their queen- two white women, but they obviously have women of color in power as well.

the story hippolyta tells her, that the amazons were meant to calm men, and they did, and then they were enslaved like... how tf do you enslave women who are apparently 10x your strength? even if they’re not trained.

on this island all of women- they are 100% covered. now, in a respect, i understand it. but also, why? the fighters have shorter outfits which makes sense, but their ‘armor’ doesn’t really look like armor, in a way. it looks like an outfit with boob cups. it looks uncomfortable on the titties. why don’t the fighters just wrap the titties? why are the titties hidden, anyway, in common area? there are literally no men here. ever. why you people hiding your boobs?

how the fuck did no one find the island before steve wandered onto it by accident? seriously. 20+ years and you’re telling me it was never found until some random ass fuckwad flew a plane into it, and then it was like “lmao k everyone come to party” like ???

how old is fucking diana at the beginning of the movie i fucking mean it bc apparently in like 100 years she has not aged so how fucking old is this chick and why does she not age

really “doctor poison”

british man in london without british accent, as compared to all other british men, who all have british accents. nobody thinks twice

german man with a british accent. ??? really????

the love scene are you fucking serious there was absolutely positively 0 need for that fuck you

instead of knocking out the pilots and removing the timer the plane is flown high into the air and blown up. and all the gas.... stays up there. because it was... blown up.... right. okay.

chief was kinda confusing for me? like- call it stereotyping, but his words were like... half the way you’d expect them to sound, and the other half was seriously straight no accent and i was confused.

i want more on charlie’s nightmares. seriously. why the fuck do you leave us hanging like that. we get one glimpse of it and then... nothing else apart from a scene that reminded me of the magnificent 7 where he has someone lined up in his sights, is told to shoot, and can’t. come on, people, extrapolate on that a little.

what the fuck was with the bombing?? were they planning to bomb the village the whole time? what happened with the gas? did it ever go down, or is it still there? why was diana not affected by it? bc she’s a ‘god’?

the love card really are you fucking serious it couldn’t have been friend love or platonic love it was “hey i’ve known you four days and i love you” and suddenly she has power over 9000????

really the ‘above average male’ joke???? really??? ya nah.

bruce wayne is literally like “lmao hey i found this picture of you” and all diana does is smile. are they friends or sommin already?

how does she keep  her armor in such good shape? how did it never get dirty? HOW WELL IN SHAPE WERE THOSE FUCKING HORSES THAT SHE COULD GALLOP IT LITERALLY FUCKIN MILES DOWN THE ROAD AND IT WAS STILL GOING STRONG AND COULD JUMP SOMETHING THAT WAS LIKE 2 OR 3 FEET OFF THE GROUND???? WHY DID THOSE VILLAGERS HAVE FUCKING FRIESIANS LAYING AROUND??? COME ON, PLEASE.

10/10 sammy was brilliant tho.

charlie and chief could definitely have had more background done of them. fuck, they all could have. but they went with steve instead. eugh.

the twist with areis at the end tho- also, iron man. i fucking laughed. elbowed my mom and said “female captain america and iron man.”

stealing the journal! ??? 

THE FUCKING CRUMPLED UP PAPER LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? YOU WROTE IT DOWN, DISCARDED IT, AND THEN A WIND BLOWS IT BACK TO YOU AND YOU PICK IT UP AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE LIKE “IT’S FUCKING GENIUS I’VE GOT IT” REALLY

also seriously what the hell happened to the doctor’s face i wanna know that story.

why has diana not aged a single fucking day in like 100 years what the hell? why do we get no explanation for that?

why could she not go back to the island? was it “you literally can’t come back” bc that seems like utter bullshit considering some dude in a fucking plane and then like 20 german boats made their way in or was it “you won’t want to come back” or “you won’t come back bc we will kill you” like why the hell was diana told she may not come back? please clarify.

how did they get from (likely) the middle of bumfuck middle of nowhere in the ocean to london in one night? what the everliving fuck?

the discussion on the boat about sleeping. interesting. on one hand, the twelve volumes of pleasure is fucking hilarious. on the other, i wanted to see some goddamn amazon lesbians. it’s an island entirely of women. there have to be gal pals somewhere, especially if someone wrote twelve volumes on pleasure enough to decide that man was needed for procreation only. does this mean they make dildos and stuff? seriously. what are in those twelve volumes? where did they even find a man to decide that sex with men was for pleasure only?

why were hippolyta and antiope like the only two who looked old? how do amazons age?

how was the shield bulletproof but the armor wasn’t? seriously. if you can make bulletproof shields, you can make bulletproof armor.

why did the boats sink as soon as they entered the island’s field? did they crash into rocks that you couldn’t see? seriously, wtf.

holy hell they played at having their fun with the greek gods tho, like damn.

there’s prolly more but that’s all i got for now

[survivorindia]

Whatever Forever- jaiden (Episode 3)

Anyway!!!!!!!! I just got elimed and whew I'm just feeling so many emotions. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown the immunity to save lexi, maybe I should've kept ace over Ashley,maybe I never really had a chance in this game in the first place. Overall? I just feel bad for promising lexi that I'd help keep her in the game and then immediately flopping, and for Kendall, leaving my one tru ally by herself, I hope the swap goes in her favour and that both of them can vote out the rest of the returnee heroes, some revenge is always nice TBH. Ashley, gav and Alex, I really did trust two of you and I was gonna stay loyal so it sucks that y'all flipped so easily, of course the fact that Ashley had an idol probably wasn't the best thing, but we could've figured something out. I hope the three of you get elimed soon or at least prejury bc you know the great dan whatever his last name is said flippers never win and well it's no fun seeing snakes get far either TBH ! And I know y'all won't be reading this til later but good luck newbies I hope y'all truly slay this game bc really some of these returnees I would really rather see get elimed except maybe Kendall and Jordan pines. This has been a fun game for the most part, the challenges were great, the hosts were greater (even David Robb) and I met some good people in my short stay here! Do I have some regrets? Yeah but I wouldn't have wanted to play this game any other way. Keep an eye out for me in the returnee season :~) single digits I'm still coming for ya!

So not much has happened this round. We won, yet again. And my #1 ally out of everyone in this game, my good friend Monte, was sadly voted out. But best believe I'm gonna win this game for him!

What in the heckie is Nicole doing?

What the FUCK? These people need to CHILL out. It's our fault - we made the mistake, the hosts don't have to babysit us every step of the way. Now we gotta own it and win this tiebreaker - honestly, Danny g'luck (I WAS FORCED TO MAKE THIS S/O) to these people, because they are getting on my nerves with their complaining rn. 

We keep winning. I love that. But Jordan Pines might wanna blindside me... so to that I say:

Am I exaggerating? A little bit. I think. I don't know. I'm being weird and emotional so idk what the fuck I'm actually thinking... I hope I get voted out next at this point yay

Okay, everyone listening? Two common misconceptions about pegging: If a man likes pegging, he must be gay. If you peg a straight man, he will become gay. Cue Laughter and Eye Roll - Both of these are so ridiculous as to be laughable on so many levels. Gender preference has nothing to do with the sex toys you like to play with...or the area of your body you like your partner to play with. For those of you who have fears around this - please excuse the laughter...though I do find the concept quite humorous. Think of it this way...If a straight man enjoys getting pegged by a woman there is no reason whatsoever to think that all of a sudden he will crave sex with men. Just like if a straight woman enjoys receiving oral sex from a man there is no reason whatsoever to think that she will suddenly want to be a lesbian. See how silly that sounds? (Now if the man is bisexual, just ignore all this and go to the next blog post because he prefers both genders so these points are moot.) A man who wants his ass fucked is gay, you say? Bullshit. (I seem to be in a sassy mood tonight.) Remember, the male ass is the source of an amazing amount of pleasure via the prostate gland. Whether a man experiences that pleasure from his lady's finger(s), his own finger(s), a toy (there are so many), his lady’s strap-on, a butt plug, his partner's finger(s) or his partner's cock makes no difference. All of the above are simply various examples of the pursuit of pleasurable sensations from an ass. Many really nice toys are specifically made for anal pleasure! That should give you a bit of pause. Maybe the people buying these items know something....just like the 150 - 200 million gay men in the world. But wait - I'm probably confusing you... Unexplored Ecstasy - The point here is that anal exploration is about pleasure, not an indicator of gender preference. What I find a shame is that so many straight men will not indulge in that pleasure because of these misconceptions along with the bullshit social stigma attached to it. Maybe it's just me (standing here ready with my strap-on), but that sounds like a lot of pleasure being abstained from...and oh my the word abstinence  in any form is not a popular one amongst the pleasure seekers that have found their way to Pegging Paradise! I am certain there are men out there who secretly would love to have their ass teased with...well, a variety of things. These men hesitate to ask for it because they fear their partner's reaction to their request or the reaction of others if they found out. All of this is fed by the original misconceptions as well as a puerile dose of idiotic homophobia. Get over it, people! I know...easier for me to say here in Southern California when some of you might be in conservative strait-laced sex-negative hell somewhere. But hey - we need to start somewhere, right? Are you going to let other people's narrow-minded attitudes affect your pursuit of pleasure in the privacy of your own bedroom (hotel room, board room, etc)? I think not. No Fear - So Ladies, I urge you to get over your own fears that if you fuck your man in the ass with a strap-on dildo the gay fairy will instantly appear and sprinkle him with magic gay dust and you will lose him forever to his own gender. Okay? If you can't let go of that fear, you have no business strapping on a dildo. I mean really...are you going to follow him around after you fuck him and be suspicious of all of his encounters with males? Let it go, ladies. And when you get your man where you want him and you have your way with him...don't kiss and tell. Especially if you live in one of those strait-laced sex-negative hell places I spoke of previously. Instead, treasure the vulnerability your man has shared with you and let him know that come hell or high water or nosy girlfriends, he can trust you to keep that part of your sex life confidential. Pleasure Seeking - Gentlemen, the other part of the formula here is you. If you are clear about which gender you prefer, that's your stable base. Do your best to let go of any homophobic comments you have heard, read or even, heaven forbid, said. Your anus is a part of your body that, when properly stimulated, offers a whole new world of pleasure. Orgasms with anal stimulation are most times much more intense and produce much more cum (that's always fun). Given just that, why wouldn't you want to at least check it out? If you love it, all that means is that you love getting fucked with a strap-on by the woman who makes you hot. There is no "Insta-gay" phenomenon that happens if your lady pegs you. As one man put it: I like breasts with my strap-on, thank you! Pegger/Peggee - Wouldn't it be awesome if people who were into pegging walked around in T-Shirts that said, simply, "Pegger" or "Peggee"? I mean - relatively few people who are not kink-oriented know the sexual meaning of the word so lovingly created by Dan Savage. So the masses of people leading lives of quiet desperation (read: sex-negative) wouldn't have a clue what it meant. And if asked, one could always say with a smile, "Look it up on Wikipedia". Just make sure it's a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile as you say the words and they just might look it up. Presto, you have just spread the word about a luscious, sexy, pleasure-filled act that couples can add to their carnal repertoire. You may have changed their lives forever...in a rather explosive way.

AHAHAHAHAHA @GAVIN

THOSE BOYS WANT TRIBAL TN BECAUSE WE LOST IMMUNITY AND IM SO FUCKING NERVOUS I DONT WANT TO DIE I HAVE SO MANY PLANS IF JORDAN SACRIFICE ME FOR NICOLE OKOKOKOK 

So... mission successful. Let's quickly debrief: 1. Ashley trusts me a lot more after I told her details that Alex told me in private. Making Ashley feel like she was on shaky ground further resulted in her letting me know that she has an idol. Whether or not it is true is besides the point... the true crux of the matter is that I have Ashley left in the game with three people she can't trust and me... so that means I ought to be her #1. 2. Alex and I are as tight as ever. Even despite giving Ashley information, I was able to quickly fix that bond. I genuinely like and trust Alex, but I can't let the cloud my judgement. He's very close to Kendall, which scares me, but I have looked to leverage that in our post-tribal call. In my conversations with Alex, I want to make him feel like he is calling the shots while still looking to provide input. Thus far, I think I have done that. With Ashley allegedly having the idol (information that was supposed to be "kept secret" but was totally not "kept secret" xD), I have talked to Alex extensively about the next vote and I've made a deal with him to take out Karen rather than Kendall... while also *hopefully* keeping Ashley's idol in play. My goal here is to come out of this with both Ashley and Alex working independently, but all in all, nonetheless in my best interests. In short, the way this tribe seems to be shaking out is that there is this façade of autonomy and power that Karen and Kendall have. They have this illusion that they call the shots, while it really is Alex and I that hold the cards in this dynamic. Kendall, to get Alex completely on my side... I need to spare you to gain his trust, BUT MARK MY WORDS I'M GOING FOR YOU! *Nothing against you, just your social game is very very strong but annoyingly obvious too ;3* Oh. And Ace got voted out too... I guess.

I never really made an opening confessional, so here I go I guess? I am really... really excited to be back. It's so easy for so many people to say "Oh yeah I've played a ton, people want me back." We see it with a ton of people, and that's not a bad thing. People want to see them back for a big reason. But I never had that. Coming off of Malaysia I was hated and people did not really respect me for who I was and thought that I was some awful person and player. It definitely hit me hard a bit, but at the time I was like, okay that's fine, there's other seasons. Tumblr does a lot. And so I applied. I applied for Sri Lanka with Marie and didn't make it. I applied for Rebels vs Rogues and didn't make it. I applied for Bora Bora and didn't make it. I believe I applied for Generations and wasn't casted, or I didn't believe I was going to have time due to time conflicts. I wasn't contacted for Maldives. I missed the application for Tenochtitlan. I applied for Sicily and didn't make it. I believe I applied for Bangladesh and didn't make it. I wasn't contacted for Arabia (though there may have been apps and I missed it). I wasn't contacted for Myanmar. And I was super excited to finally get this chance to play in Lazio but I missed the acceptance of my application. And going back to all the times I had tried to play or just was kind of ignored it was rough. I kind of thought I was done. And now I'm here playing in India. After over a year on and off of trying to play this game again. And to be honest, I'm hella pumped. Because I've missed out on so many chances to play. I think it says something when even parts of my Malaysia cast aren't even excited to see me on the season. This is kind of my opportunity to prove people wrong. My personality showed even at this Tribal where I literally told Gavin his answer to the Tribal Question was awful and completely wrecked Ace after he wished us a heartfelt goodbye. I want people to know that I am playing as hard as I can. I'm not here to change who I am to impress people. I'm here to show who I am so that I can prove to people that I'm not some worthless player who doesn't deserve to be back; I definitely feel like some people think that is the truth. I'm going to prove people wrong. Count on it.

I know I said I wanted to be a villain but goddamn, this is pretty fucked up. Oh right context because mind reading technology hasn't been invented quite yet. To make a long story short, Karen made an alliance chat with our victim (Ashley) and now it has a name and now it is terrible. Alex brings up voting Karen and that raisin I call a heart was all like "YAAASS QUEEN!" And my brain was tempted by the #bigmove but getting rid of Karen... is truthfully not to my benefit. Sure Karen is manipulative but she seems to trust me. She confides in me with information and she includes me in all her fucked up little schemes. In a sense, I'm the Trish to her Tony. If Trish and Tony were two gay and emotionally stunted children of course. Plus she has the connections to the other side that could get us far into the game and I am confident enough in our friendship that she will stay by my side. Of course, I will remain wary of her but for now I think our relationship is mutually beneficial. Karen needs me for back up in her schemes. I need Karen to get where I want to get. She gives me information. Information I can collect in to a giant web of evidence, so when the day comes when I turn on her, I'll have the evidence via receipts to back me up. Karen never deletes anything, I am planning on using that to my advantage.

So I was reallllyyyyyy close to using my idol tonight, and I totally would have wasted it if I had. Gavin advised me that I would be okay, and so did Alex and Kendall but like something didn't feel right. I had heard that Ace heard my name from Karen and I was like well shit. She had literally just today come to me and told me that we were all good and that she didn't hold the last game we played together against me. Like there are no hard feelings. but due to everything that was happening I kind of doubted that. But tbh I love Gavin and Alex and really hope we can work together for the next few rounds. Or even longer, who knows. I still am unsure about Karen and Kendall, as I don't really know them that well. But hopefully everything works out.

Oh I also definitely told Gavin I have an idol.... idiot move? We shall see. 

I am so glad we won immunity. It for sure would have been me or Lexi next if we had gone to tribal. It looks like Johnny and Whitney aren't too upset that I didn't vote with them but I can't take my chances. I had been searching for the idol for a while with no luck so I asked Lexi to help me find it. She found it within a few hours lol. We didn't find the idol but we found the idol grid. It's relieving to know it couldn't have been found right away. This gives me and her time to find it. Hopefully we'll get it before anyone else and we'll be set for the rest of the time on this tribe. I doubt anyone else on our tribe has found the idol page or would suspect that we found it. I'm thinking long term so the game plan would be using the idol on lexi and getting rid of Liam. If we happen to go to a tribal council after that we could try to get Whitney or Johnny to flip to our side. Even if they don't want to we can always force a tie so Lexi and I still have a strong chance of succeeding. We just have to find that idol!

This has been a crazy round. I'm glad the immunity challenge was changed to something that required more skill. The tribe worked very well as a team. There's an obvious divide between us so I'm glad we were able to get some time to bond and unite. As for the results, it was upsetting that the returnee heroes made such a big deal out of not getting theirs in on time. The rules clearly stated it was first to 10 pm. I'm sure we would've accepted defeat if we didn't send it faster than them. It was bad sportsmanship on their part. The tiebreaker was so stressful. I stepped up and I was so afraid of letting the team down. I knew if we went to tribal my only ally left, Lexi, would be voted off. There was a lot of pressure on me and I was honestly so anxious. I felt so victorious beating Kendall by 7 minutes. I hope my tribemates remember this next time we go to tribal and don't vote me out. I feel like I've done a lot for our tribe so I think I'm safe for now. I'm really hoping the tribe swap comes within the next two rounds. We can only win so many immunities and Lexi and I are on the bottom so we really need it asap.