#(read: this is the exact emotion I feel when my partners are being cute aka always and I need an emoji to express that)

[fangirlwithasweettooth]

tried my best to give this pic I took of my simp Yizhi sticker (that’s what I’ve taken to calling this one) a transparent background for online use but my computer isn’t cooperating and there’s only so much I can do on my tiny phone screen so… take this for now and I’ll try to do a better one soon lol (or if anyone wants to try it themselves, please do! /gen)

[ashdreams2023]

Hellooo :D Anon from the Loki aka Lollipops request, I think I'll appear here a few more times but not so much, because I don't want to waste so much of your time with all my requests Haha- Btw i love who you wrote my previous request! It's really funny and cute c: Getting to point-- Can I request Loki (You can also add someone) taking care of his newborn child it can be Y/N, reader. If you could do this thank so much in advance ( ◜‿◝ ) You can do this as a headcanons with some dialogue (:

You have no idea how much I love babies, I’ll add dr strange in this one too

Taking care of their newborn:

Loki:

He wasn’t hit with the actual reality that he’s a father until he held his tiny baby for the first time

It was so emotional, especially if the baby had features from him like his eyes or dark hair

"How could I be a part of creating such precious and fragile being"

He didn’t know much about babies but he was ready to learn

Books, videos and even asking advice from other parents he knowns like tony or Clint

He doesn’t care for gender but if it was a girl he really wants to name her after his mom or let her name the baby

Does a lot of skin to skin, so it’s common to find him shirtless gently caressing his baby

He doesn’t need much sleep but still get paranoid if he leaves it alone to get something

There was a point where he would cry if the baby cried because he didn’t understand what they needed

Loves the baby voices they make and records whenever he could

Frigga would absolutely never say no to babysitting her grandchild

I like to think that Loki’s baby is one of those quiet babies that doesn’t cry a lot and just want to be held

He will spend so much money on cute baby outfits because he just can’t resist

Pepper gave his baby a knitted hat with horns like the ones on his helmet and he almost died of cuteness

Only a couple few are allowed to hold his baby

If his partner can produce milk he’ll help them bottle it

The baby sleeps a lot during the day so he spend his time cleaning around and making sure the area is pleasant for him and his baby

The will leave in the middle of the night if he has to, to buy diapers or some type of medication

Low key was concerned the baby would come out blue

Hums Asgardian songs to help the baby sleep

His mother gave him a toy she kept from his childhood for his baby to play with

Literally would snap at anyone who remotely looks weird at his baby 

Uses magic tricks to make the baby smile

Dr. Strange:

Strange used to be a doctor, well a surgeon to be exact but seeing new born babies wasn’t an odd sight for him

Though it’s different when that baby is his own

I feel like he would like a son

But if it was a girl she would be daddy’s little spoiled girl

Makes a check list he follows everyday to make sure he doesn’t forget something

Struggles with changing diapers for a while

Makes sure the baby takes all necessary vitamins if needed

Would prefer if his baby was feed natural breast milk but wouldn’t argue if his partner want to use formula 

He’s so soft when the baby start babbling at him

Reads to the baby dr seuss books

Is great at knowing if the baby is sick or having a fever

Doesn’t like to take his baby to really big gathering areas

His baby’s picture is the wallpaper of his phone Lock Screen

The cape carries the baby sometimes when he’s busy doing keeper things

Wong is the number one babysitter

Tony and pepper send him a gift basket with new born necessities

Will ask for baby pictures if he’s outside doing hero work just to make his mood better

"You’re seriously ditching saving the world for this"

"If you needed me I would’ve known, now leave me and my family alone"

Matching brown gloves with his baby

[monstaxdirtywonk]

MX’s ideal types based on their chart

Hey everyone! Today we are gonna talk about our boys and *surprise surprise* their charts lol 

Reminder : We don’t know their birth time aka their rising, however I did a post speculating so yes take this with a grain of salt !

*keep in mind i’m using love related placements like venus and mars, sometimes their rising*

Shownu

Someone with a nice voice (Gemini do appreciate nice voices a lot)

I don’t think he’d be into an overly cute one, more sophisicated

nice hands and a good manicure going on (taurus aspect)

which brings me to the fact that he’d like a well put girl

someone that dresses well, lives well and has nice taste

someone a little bit more spontaneous than his caclulated self

but nothing too much

he’d def appreciate some humour since he is pretty quiet

(but a comedic genius)

someone flirty and playful

a nice neck because tauruses rule the neck

very elegant all around and feminine but no try hard

a very nice perfume, something rare and unique

suitable signs : Taurus, Libra, Aquarius, Capricorn

Hoseok

listen up

not to be annoying and say it for the 863rd time but he is a boob man

cancer mars (our insticts) and his rising is a cancer too 

they rule the boobs and in general love some softness

i can see him with a girl that has the exact opossite of his body

very soft and cuddly/curvy unlike his really toned muscular self

someone very motherly, that takes care of him but NEVER treats him like a child

he CAN’T work with someone that isn’t romantic

he has so much water, in his eyes anyone with too much earth,air etc will feel cold or distant

natural and efortless, not into super made up girls or insta baddie etc

understanding,caring and SAFE

His home

Suitable signs : water ones, Libra

Minhyuk

Scorpios are freaky

They have a fascination with butts and we can tell because Min is pretty grabby

someone daring and hard to get but still approachable

nothing overly mysterious because it would turn off his libra placements since they truly enjoy connecting with others

they truly appreciate a smart partner, brains matter a lot

lingerie and such, some sexiness in the bedroom and this hidden factor only he can see

someone that takes care of themselves and are confident

keep him on his toes and challenge him often

have meaningful and deep convos

sex matters a lot to them but it is a way to connect further

truly emotional if you dive deeper (wink)

Suitable signs : Aquarius (with other water placements),Leo,Sagi

Kihyun

Both his Sagi and Scorpio placements thrive for communication

connecting well with someone is the biggest turn on

someone with cute thighs

care taker (sagi) and kinky (scorpio) leads us to some age play

in general power dynamics since freedom is a big point for sagis while scorpios can get possesive, those two together can give a ‘im giving away/taking power’ kink, so someone into this

adventurous WHEN in a serious relationship

I think he’d appreciate a woman that’s similar to him when it comes to being tidy but her mind can be a bit of a mess

not someone too similar because it can give only one perspective and this might lead to being bored and sagis HATE boredom

(i can read him like an open book because we almost have the same chart)

Suitable signs : water signs with some air, capricorns and not sagis (i have a feeling us sagis don’t enjoy relationships with fellow sagis)

Hyungwon

Listen up

Capricorns have a thing with status and authority so they might often engage in role play or dress play with such concepts

but my guess on his rising (sagi) are the opossite so idk if it applies to him because i’m not getting such vibes just putting it out there

someone sure of themselves and motivated

lady in the streets fire in the sheets

he loves that duality

a thing for hair

not a particular style or anything, he enjoys running his hands through them

someone that’s in for a more stable relationship

capricorn placements usually like someone older

but i don’t think age matters that much to him

Suitable placements : Libra, Taurus, Aquarius

Jooheon

My fiery son would be into someone sexy but not a show off

he is really posessive (leo and scorpio) and this won’t turn out well

which makes you think, he’d not be a good match for very carefree placements like aquarius, sagittarius or gemini

a booty man and that lower half in general

I think he’d be into a bagel, cute face and sexy body just like him

someone just as passionate as he is

devoted and honest

magnetic eyes

but a sweet smile

also into quickies

Suitable signs : water with some fire, Capricorn

Changkyun

Hey how are you im not well who told him to have so much aquarius

usually they aint my type unless they have water placements and he does with his cute ass pisces venus and scorpio rising

someone intellectual seriously looks dont matter as much as brains do

not into someone that doesnt think,read,appreciate music,art etc

not into someone that doesnt pay attention to their fashion

not anything over the top, more like a way of showing the world who you are

i truly feel like he might be into tomboys

or at least someone not pretty by typical beauty standards

a face with character, something unique about them

experimental but safe in bed

(they say aquarius are good at bed idk)

Suitable signs: SAGITTARIUS, PISCES and Libras

for astrology ships DM me (4-5$)

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter three

[ao3]

hello i’m back on my bullshit aka britpop au 

@tirednotflirting you are never not getting a shoutout in these a/ns i��m sorry for the constant adoration but i truly do adore you and love you for reading through this entire thing and patiently talking to me about it every day you are a trooper and basically at this point a co-writer of the fic so credit to sam for being a wonderful person and friend and beta 

credit also to noel gallagher for being fit i’m so far gone on him now it’s not even funny i need an intervention can someone please fix me actually no don’t i like fancying him he’s cute. listen to hello so the little twat can pay his bills  

Liam, despite - or maybe because of - the various substances coursing through his system, is the first to react. 

“What the fuck?” he says, sounding somewhere between perplexed and outraged. “You fucking know this bloke?” 

“I fucking knew it,” Noel says, fierce and furious and edged with humourless glee. “I fucking knew. Soon as you fucking asked me about them, I knew.” He laughs, hysterical and bitter. “God, you’re an absolute fucking cu- ” 

“Hang on a minute,” Damon interrupts, looking from Michael, who’s staring at his feet, to Calum, and back again. “That’s your Calum?” 

“He’s not my Calum,” Michael mutters to the floor. 

“Fucking sounds like he is,” Graham remarks coolly. 

“How the fuck do you know him?” Liam demands hotly, rounding on Calum.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell us?” Damon says to Michael, voice dangerously calm. “How long have you known?” Michael shrugs uncomfortably, and his right hand comes up to fiddle with his earlobe, and it fucking hurts, because Calum remembers that, remembers how Michael would nervously tuck an errant strand of hair behind his ear and play with his earlobe while his eyes flicked from Calum’s eyes to his lips and back again. 

“You fucking cunt, ” Liam spits, and he sounds like he actually fucking means it, and Calum’s heart drops. 

“Eeyar,” Bonehead says sharply, and puts an arm on Liam’s bicep. “Let’s not do this here, eh?” Fucking hell. Bonehead, of all fucking people, being the sensible one. 

“No,” Liam says, trying to shake Bonehead’s hand off, “let’s fucking do it here. Right fucking here, Calum. You fucking tell me right fucking now why the fuck you never told me you were mates with one of the cunts from Blur.” Damon raises his eyebrows at that, looking somewhere between incensed and amused. 

“Noel,” Bonehead says, pleading, and Calum watches Noel’s expression change from fuck Calum, fuck him, to shit, Bonehead’s right. Not in front of Blur. 

“Liam,” Noel says, and Calum’s never heard him sound so fucking serious in his life. Liam looks at him furiously, a silent conversation happening between the two of them that nobody else can understand, all furrowed brows and twisted lips, ending only when Liam throws his hands up in the air, shoots Calum one last glare, and stomps out of the room.

“Mr Gallagher-” the photographer calls after him, and Liam spins on his heel, fists already balled, and Calum barely has time to think oh, shit before Noel’s running after him and physically manhandling him out of the room as Liam starts shouting random strings of curse words that don’t even make any fucking sense. 

Not for the first time, the Gallaghers leave a stunned silence in their wake as their shouting and yelling gets further and further away, broken only when artists start sending each other uncomfortable looks and murmuring under their breaths. Calum barely even registers it, though, too busy staring at the door Liam and Noel have just barged out of, heart in his mouth. Fuck. 

“Well,” Damon drawls, tone a little too casual, jolting Calum back to reality. “Think you’d better go after them.” 

“Fuck you,” Calum grits out. He throws one final, desperate look at Michael, who’s still steadfastly not looking at him, and then, steeling himself, sets off in the direction of the door. He hears Bonehead and Tony echo similar sentiments at Damon  as he jogs through the door, looking left and right until he sees Noel and Liam at the far end of the corridor, Liam waving his hands in Noel’s face as he refuses to listen to whatever Noel’s trying to tell him. 

“...right fucking cunt, is what,” Liam’s saying as Calum gets closer, sounding indignant. 

“I know that, Liam, but-” Noel breaks off as he spots Calum approaching, and takes a step back, putting a hand on Liam’s arm without even thinking about it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bonehead demands, catching up with Calum. Calum’s not entirely sure who he’s directing the question at, so he just shrugs uncomfortably. 

“What the fuck’s wrong with me? ” Liam says, sounding enraged, and jabbing a finger at Calum. “What about what’s wrong with this cunt, eh? Didn’t fucking think to mention that he knows one of the pricks in Blur .” 

“Is it that big of a fucking deal?” Tony says, and then immediately shrinks back under the weight of a double-Gallagher withering stare. 

And Calum gets it, he does. If he found out Liam knew Damon, a member of their main competition, and never thought to fucking mention it, he’d be beside himself. It’s the principle of it, he thinks, guilt making his stomach roll. You choose your band first. You don’t hide things like that from your band. 

“Look,” he says, and Liam and Noel both turn to glare at him. 

“No,” Liam says, and makes to take a step forward. Noel’s hand tightens on his arm - a warning - and he stops halfway, still glowering at Calum. “You’re a right fucking git, you are. Why the fuck didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your best fucking mate, I am.” Calum swallows, but the guilt doesn’t go down with the saliva. 

“I know,” he says. “I- fuck. I haven’t known for long.” It’s a poor excuse, and he knows it as the words trip off his tongue. He should have told them as soon as he found out. 

“What the fuck d’you mean, you fucking arseho -” 

“Liam,” Noel says sharply, and Liam huffs, but shuts up, fuming silently as Noel turns to fix Calum with a hard stare. Fucking hell. Calum fucking hates their bad-cop-worse-cop spiel. 

“You’d better have a good fucking explanation for why you didn’t tell us,” Noel says, in that same dangerously calm tone that Damon had used on Michael earlier. It makes Calum’s heart constrict, because when Noel’s angry at him it’s hot bursts, heated words and blazing eyes, never this, this fucking coldness. There’s something behind it, something more to it, and he doesn’t know what it is. 

Calum meets his gaze and holds it for a moment, searching through all the righteous anger and fury, watching rage and indignation and bitterness flit through those baby blues until he catches it. It’s just a snippet, just the tiniest fragment that Noel’s let slip through his scowling armour, but it’s there. 

Hurt.

It makes Calum’s stomach curl up into a small ball and then unroll itself ungracefully, twisting almost nauseatingly when his gaze flits to Liam, to the same blue eyes on a different face, and he sees the exact same storm of emotions - incensed, livid, hurt. That’s what this is about. He’s hurt them. 

“I do,” he mumbles, a little apologetically, and Liam throws his hands up in the air and turns his back on Calum, walks a good five steps away muttering oh, this should be fucking good, before turning back around, hovering in place, like he doesn’t quite trust himself to get any closer to Calum.

“Go on then,” Noel says coldly, and Calum sees his hands ball into fists at his side. Calum takes a wary step back, tripping on Bonehead’s foot, and holds his hands up. 

“I’ll tell you,” Calum says, eyeing Noel’s fists, “but don’t you fucking deck me.” Noel considers that for a moment, just a split second, and then cocks his head. 

“You’ll get decked if you fucking deserve it,” he says evenly , and Calum has to concede that that’s kind of fair. 

“How the fuck d’you know him?” Liam demands, still about six feet away. Calum hesitates. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, can almost feel the curiosity in Bonehead and Tony’s eyes boring into the back of his head and the hurt and rage in Liam and Noel’s gazes, and he swallows again. 

He could tell them Michael’s his childhood best friend. It’s not a lie, after all. They’d never stopped being best friends, not when they kissed, or when they fucked, or when they fell in love. It had always been there in the background, a soft hum under Calum’s fingers in Michael’s hair, under Michael’s lips on Calum’s throat. It wouldn’t be a lie, as such, just an omission of some of the facts. 

But Calum knows it wouldn’t explain everything, wouldn’t explain why he hid it for so long and why he’s acted so fucking weird about it, and he knows if he doesn’t tell the rest of them everything now, they’re fucking finished. And it’s not the band he cares about - fuck the band, give a fuck, he’ll go back to Manchester and fucking fix garden walls for the rest of his life - it’s his friendships. 

Liam and Noel have been everything to Calum since he moved to Manchester. It had been sheer fucking luck of the draw that Gallagher and Hood were next to each other in the register, so, four days into his new school and completely friendless and alone, he’d been shafted with quite possibly the worst Chemistry partner anyone’s ever had. Although, he has to concede, he’s probably the second-worst Chemistry partner anyone’s ever had, and it didn’t matter anyway, because they were both interested in other types of chemistry, other chemical reactions that could be obtained with money or flirting.  Once they’d figured that out, worked out that neither of them cared about school and both of them cared about getting high and having a laugh, it had been a pretty small step from eeyar, my mam’s out at work, d’you want to bunk off and nick some of her booze? to you’re the only cunt in the world I care about, you are. The only fucking one. 

Noel hadn’t been in the picture, then, too busy on the road with the Inspiral Carpets (much to Liam’s endless fucking pride), and when he’d come home a year later in the middle of the night he’d scared the absolute shit out of Calum, who’d been sleeping in his bed, by leaning over and peering at him with an exhausted, irritated, and yet intrigued expression on his face. 

(“Eeyar,” he’d said mildly, and Calum’s eyes had flown open as he’d shot bolt upright in the bed. “That’s my fucking bed, that is.” Calum had just stared at him, lips parted in shock, eyes wide, still too groggy to process that the eyes staring back at him were the exact same eyes as Liam’s, and then Liam had stirred, mumbled something, opened his eyes and grinned wider and happier than Calum had ever seen before. 

“Noely G!” he’d said, all soft and sleepy, and Noel had rolled his eyes and huffed, but his lips had twitched in a tiny, fond smile. 

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” Noel had warned, two seconds before Liam had flung himself into Noel’s arms and they’d both toppled to the ground, Liam laughing and Noel grumbling but reaching up to pet Liam’s hair all the same.) 

Noel hadn’t wanted to spend much time with them, at first. Why the fuck would I want to hang out with my eighteen-year-old brother and his weird fucking Aussie mate? he’d say derisively, scoffing, but Liam always knew how to play him, knew how to wheedle and whine and praise and insult at just the right levels until Noel would break, sigh, put his magazine down and pick up his guitar and play with them.

That had been it, really. Calum couldn’t remember ever having that much fun before, ever feeling so at home before, ever feeling so safe. The three of them had just clicked, just fallen right into a routine like they were made to slot into each other’s lives. Noel and Liam felt like jigsaw pieces that nestled neatly against him, completed parts of him that he didn’t even know were incomplete. Calum and Liam were rarely apart, and Noel dipped his toe in more often than he took it out. It was Calum Liam would turn to when he was having nightmares about his dad, or when Noel had fucking breathed wrong, or when Noel had decided to move out and Liam had been so furious at him that he’d sat sobbing on Calum’s floor for a whole night. It was Calum Noel would turn to when Liam threw a tantrum, or when he wanted a hand moving furniture into his new flat, or when he wanted someone to go for a few pints with. 

And so it should have been the two of them Calum turned to when he found out about Michael. 

It’s not like they don’t know about his bisexuality, either. He’d come out to Liam before he’d even come out to his mum, blurting it one evening when they were headed to the pub, and Liam had just shrugged, put an arm around him and said hard not to fancy blokes when you spend a lot of time around me, eh? 

Noel had been a little different. Noel had sent him looks from under lowered lashes that had made Calum’s stomach fizz in a way he’d never quite felt before, an echo of something he’d only ever felt with Michael. Noel’s hand would linger on the small of Calum’s back, or around his waist, or on his forearm, making Calum’s skin buzz with something he’d never quite been able to place. It had culminated in one night when Liam was at some girl’s house and Calum had spent the night at the Gallaghers’ anyway, listening to the new songs Noel had written for their brand new band, singing soft and sweet and clear with plump lips and darkened eyes until one of them had snapped. Calum could never remember whether it was him or Noel that had lunged forward first, pressed the first desperate kiss to the other’s lips, but it didn’t really matter, because the end result was the same; frantic kisses, fumbling hands, and pretty, really fucking pretty sounds from Noel that made Calum dizzy with want and made him think God, this is what fucking music is. 

And so, Calum thinks, as his chest aches uncomfortably from the guilt pumping through his veins with every beat of his heart, he has to tell them the whole truth. They’ve been everything to him for the past four, five years, and they deserve to know.

“Well?” someone prompts - Noel, Calum realises as he’s jolted out of his racing thoughts - and Calum swallows. 

“He’s my ex,” he says, and his voice cracks on the last word. 

The words sit between all of them for a moment, nudging at them, testing their boundaries, pushing at the thin lines tying the five of them together, before Tony frowns, like he’s not getting it. 

“Your ex? ” he says, a little sceptical, like Calum’s having him on, and oh, yeah, shit . Tony doesn’t actually know Calum’s into guys. Fucking hell. This is the last way he wanted to come out to him. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. He’s not sure how to elaborate on that, so he doesn’t. Tony just frowns, like he’s still not sure whether to believe Calum, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“When?” Noel says, and there’s an edge of something to his tone that Calum can’t quite place. 

“Before I left,” Calum says, which is the best answer he can come up with. They’d never quite started anything, never quite stopped it either. It just was, and then it wasn’t. “We never, like. There wasn’t a conversation, or anything. We just...were. Together, I mean. He was my best mate since I was seven, so.” He shrugs again, terse and awkward. “And then I moved here.” 

“Why the fuck didn’t you say?” Liam explodes. 

“Because he’s in fucking Blur!” Calum says. “I didn’t even fucking know until that magazine-”

“ That’s why you-”

“ Yes , and-”

“So you’ve known for, what, three fucking mo- ”

“Hang on,” Noel interrupts. “What fucking magazine?” 

“Cunt nicked a magazine from the dentist’s,” Liam says derisively, waving a dismissive hand in Calum’s direction. “Wouldn’t tell me why.” 

“It had a picture of Michael in it,” Calum says. 

“So, what, you nicked it for your wank bank?” Noel says irritably. 

“ No, ” Calum says emphatically. “Just-” he cuts himself off. He’s not really sure what he was doing with that magazine, really. Taking it had just felt like the natural thing to do.

“I wouldn’t’ve fucking cared if you’d said it then,” Liam snaps. “I don’t fucking care that you shagged someone in Blur, how the fuck were you to know? I care that you didn’t fucking tell me.” Calum swallows.

“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry.” Liam doesn’t say anything to that for a moment, just stares at him, blue eyes wide and angry, and then scoffs and stomps off. Noel throws Calum a look, a look that says you’ve fucked up and I’m fucking furious and a little bit of how fucking dare you upset my brother like that, and then takes off after him. Calum watches them go, watches Noel put a hand on Liam’s arm and Liam shake him off angrily, and then Bonehead clears his throat. 

“Well,” he says nonchalantly. “Hope the shag was fucking worth it, mate.” 

  -------

  The fallout from the argument is sort of what Calum had expected, and sort of isn’t. 

Bonehead and Tony don’t care all that much, predictably. Bonehead’s more concerned about whether Calum wants tickets to the United Champions League qualifier in August (which of course he fucking doesn’t, meaning Bonehead’s just looking for a way to tell him we’re alright without having to say it), and, once it’s been established that yes, Calum does actually date blokes, they’re not just having him on, Tony doesn’t see what the big deal is. 

(“Who fucking cares?” he says, sounding bemused. Calum puts his head in his hands. 

“D’you understand either of them at all?” he says into his fingers. 

“No,” Tony says. “Do you?” Calum’s silent for a moment.

“Fair point.”)

Liam snaps at Calum for a day or two, throws furious looks at him and tries to goad him into fights, but he’d been more upset when Calum had lost his favourite earring a few years ago, so Calum just waits it out. When Liam stops scoffing at every suggestion Calum makes about the Glastonbury setlist, stops making loud, derisive remarks whenever Calum enters or leaves a room, Calum takes it as his cue to sneak up behind him and wrap his arms around Liam, rest his chin on Liam’s shoulder and whisper don’t fucking knock my teeth out, alright? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You’re my best mate, and I should’ve said. Didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t care about you. I love you, and I need you. Liam’s over it in a flash after that, tilting his head to the side to send Calum a brilliant grin and pressing a quick kiss to Calum’s temple. Liam’s like that, Calum thinks, laughing and ducking from Liam’s attempts to keep pressing sloppy kisses all over his face. He’ll blow up, he’ll scream and shout and burn hot with anger for a few days, and then the fever breaks, and Liam can barely remember why he was so pissed off in the first place. 

Noel, however, is a different story. 

He doesn’t even look in Calum’s direction for three days, which is longer than they’ve ever argued, even when Calum had kissed Noel’s girlfriend last year. Which, in fairness, wouldn’t have happened if Noel had been a bit more forthcoming about exactly which ‘fucking gorgeous blonde girl’ was his girlfriend, but whatever. The point is Calum’s not used to this kind of animosity from Noel, and especially isn’t used to Noel harbouring resentment against him for this long, and to the fucking coldness of it. He’s used to Noel snapping, making snide comments, laughing loudly and spitefully when Calum fucks up, not this frostiness, this icing out. 

Rehearsals are tense and uncomfortable. Bonehead and Tony refuse to take sides between Calum and Noel, which Calum had expected - he refuses to side against either of the Gallaghers if he can ever help it - but Liam refuses too, which takes Calum by surprise. 

(“No,” he says sharply, when Calum sends him a look after Noel snaps at him for idly playing a bass riff while he’s waiting for Tony to finish setting his drums up. “You made your fucking bed, Cal.”

It’s true, and it’s fair, but it still feels like a kick in the teeth that Liam’s not taking the opportunity to take Calum’s side, because it means he’s taking Noel’s.) 

After about a week, when the Glastonbury gig is looming over them and Noel still won’t say a single word to Calum besides can you fucking play in time? Is that really so fucking hard?, Calum’s had enough. 

He waits until one rehearsal is over, when Noel’s thrown his hands up in the air and said you’re all fucking shite and stalked out of the room - their cue to pack up and go home - shaking his head when Liam slings an arm around his shoulders and asks jovially whether he wants to go to the pub. 

“Nah,” Calum says. “I’m going to try and talk to Noel.” Liam raises an eyebrow, removes his arm from Calum’s shoulders, and pulls a face. 

“On your own head be it,” he says, and jogs off to catch up with Bonehead. 

Calum heads out of the practice room and into the corridor, heading for the room Noel often locks himself away in to write or when he’s had enough of Liam. He can hear strumming from inside, gentle humming accompanying it, and he hesitates for a split second, letting the unguarded Noel that no one ever sees wash over him for a moment. The only thing besides Liam that can break any of Noel's barriers down is a guitar, which is why Noel locks himself away when he's writing, can't stand to let anybody see him without twelve layers of defences up. It feels like Calum's intruding, though, standing here listening to Noel be at peace when he's always so turbulent, so he raises his hand and knocks on the door. The humming and strumming stop abruptly, and an annoyed voice calls: “What?”

“Can I come in?” Calum says. There’s a pause. 

“No.” But there was a pause, and if Calum obeyed every single one of Noel's impulsive commands he’d be riddled with more inconsistencies than the fucking Bible, so he pushes the door open anyway. 

“What d’you want?” Noel says irritably, but it’s the first thing he’s said to Calum that isn’t shut the fuck up in about two days, which is a start. Calum steps into the room and shuts the door behind him, and Noel sighs, all long-suffering, and turns back to his guitar, plucking a few strings tunelessly. 

“Can we talk?” Calum says. 

“Yeah,” Noel says. “Fuck off. Talk over.” Calum bites back a snarky retort and sits down on the chair opposite Noel. 

“Look,” he begins, and Noel holds up a hand to stop him. 

“I don’t want to have a big fucking talk about our feelings,” he says curtly. Calum sighs. 

“How the fuck do I make it better, then?” he says. Noel shrugs, tight and tense. 

“Time travel,” he suggests, and Calum’s lips twitch in spite of himself. 

“I said I was sorry,” he says, because he did. He’s said it a hundred times, a hundred ways, through apologies and through beseeching looks and through leaving Noel the last custard cream. 

“What’ve you been apologising for, though?” Noel says shrewdly. “For the fact you did it, or the fact we found out?” Calum holds his gaze, feels the blue burn hot into his brown, like Noel’s trying to tease out the worst bits of Calum’s soul. 

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Calum says plainly. Noel blinks, a fleeting look of surprise passing across his face. He wasn’t expecting that, clearly. 

“Who said that?” he says, aiming for contemptuous and coming off defensive. Calum just fixes him with a hard stare, one that says it’s written all over your face, and I’ll fucking say it out loud if you want me to. Noel blinks back at him for a moment before looking away, pursing his lips. He’s considering his options; Calum can see it in the way his eyes narrow slightly. Calum hopes Noel can't come up with any more options than Calum can - keep stewing or forgive but don't forget are all Calum's got, so there's a fifty-fifty chance he'll get what he's looking for.

“Fucking fine,” Noel mutters eventually, and Calum’s eyes flutter shut in relief, the pressure that’s been weighing on his chest for the past week suddenly disappearing. Fuck. “You’re still a cunt, though,” Noel adds, because he can’t stand not having the last word, and Calum nods, leaning back in the chair. He can live with that. 

“What’s that?” Calum says, nodding at the guitar to indicate the song Noel had been playing, testing the waters. Is this a truce, or is it forgiveness? 

“That?” Noel says, looking down at the guitar. “Just playing around.” A truce, then. For now. 

“For the next album?” Noel shrugs. 

“Maybe,” he says. “Depends. Got a lot of other fucking brilliant songs already written for it.” Calum huffs out a laugh, rolls his eyes, and Noel smiles back. 

“You sorted out the Glastonbury setlist yet?” Calum asks. The smile slips off Noel’s face. 

“Yeah,” he says. Calum cocks his head. 

“What?” 

“What?” 

“You look all fucking mardy, is what.” Noel rolls his eyes. 

“Mardy, fucking hell,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re a right fucking Manny boy now, you are.” 

“Nah,” Calum says, grinning. “Fucking true blue, I am. Why d’you think I support City over United?” 

“‘Cause Liam would’ve fucking nailed your balls to the front door if you hadn’t,” Noel says, which is, in fairness, at least half of the reason Calum had decided on City. 

“He hasn’t nailed Bonehead’s to any doors yet,” Calum points out. Noel pulls a face. 

"Would you wanna touch Bonehead's balls?" he says, and Calum snorts. He's got a point. 

They lull into silence for a moment, Noel's fingers twitching on the strings of his guitar like he's itching to play but doesn't want to in front of Calum, but he's not told Calum to fuck off yet, which is a start. Calum's going to take every inch Noel gives him, claw as many centimetres out of them as he can, so he sits back a little, eyes Noel and says: "What's the setlist, then?" Noel looks at him, like he thinks Calum’s asking him a trick question. “What?” Calum adds, a little self-consciously. 

“You know Blur are playing the same day as we are?” Noel says, and his tone is flat. “Same stage, too.” Calum’s stomach plummets.

“Oh,” he says, and he can see from the sour look on Noel’s face that he’s not doing a good job of hiding the way his heart is pounding in his chest at the fucking prospect of maybe, just maybe, seeing Michael again. 

“You going to talk to him?” Noel says harshly. Calum hesitates, and then shakes his head. 

“You’re my band,” he says, even though it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “You know where my loyalties lie.” Noel considers him for a moment - a long moment - and then exhales, and smiles. 

That was a test, Calum thinks, as he smiles back. It was a test, and he passed. 

(But his heart might not have.) 

  -------

  Glastonbury comes around a lot fucking faster than Calum had expected. 

Noel takes a few days to mull their truce over and then seems to decide that he’s extended it into a full on peace, passing Calum an unfinished song at two in the morning when they’re both high on something Liam had picked up somewhere. Calum doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to break the fragile understanding between the two of them, just pockets the piece of paper and offers Noel a grin and another bottle of beer. 

The days pass in a blur of travelling and rehearsing, and they get a week off between their last show somewhere down south and Glastonbury. Noel’s definition of a week off, though, seems to be very different from everyone else’s. Calum’s looking forward to going home, eating some good food, not being woken up by Liam going for a run at seven every fucking morning, maybe even getting around to fixing that wall, but Noel’s having none of it. 

(“Did you fucking hear us in Glasgow?” Noel demands, when everybody drags themselves into the tiny, cramped practice space in the basement at ten a.m., Liam still absolutely fucking steaming and clearly not having got round to going to bed yet. 

“We sounded fucking fine,” Bonehead says. 

“We sounded fucking shite,” Noel corrects. 

“Speak for your fucking self,” Tony says, and the rest of them round on him in disbelief. 

“Hang on a minute-” Bonehead starts. 

“Eeyar, I sound shi-” Noel says indignantly.

“That’s a bit fucking rich-” Calum begins. 

“You’re the worst fucking drummer I’ve ever heard,” Liam says, grumpy and disdainful, which about sums it up.) 

Calum’s sort of glad, though, because it keeps him busy. In the little moments he does get to himself - half an hour between dinner and Liam ringing his house and demanding he comes down to the pub with him, twenty minutes when Noel’s on the phone arguing with Marcus at the record label about Live Forever again - all he can think of is Michael. 

It gets worse the closer they get to Glastonbury. The first few days, when Glastonbury’s still about a week away and still doesn’t quite feel real, he can push Michael out of his mind, distract himself with laughing at Liam telling some story about Noel pushing him in the road when they were kids, ‘cause he knew I was gonna be fitter than him, I reckon. Michael crosses his mind, but it’s fleeting, and Calum doesn’t dwell on him. By the fourth or fifth day, though, Glastonbury’s looming over them and they’re being told every three seconds not to be late for the fucking bus, bus call’s at fucking six, did you hear me, that’s six, and William fucking Gallagher if you’re a second late I’ll give Noel special dispensation to murder you. It starts sinking in then, in brief moments of panic where Calum realises that fuck, in forty-eight hours, in thirty-six hours, in twenty-four hours, he might see Michael again. 

A million different scenarios cross his mind. Michael screaming at him, Calum screaming back; Michael kissing him, Calum kissing back; Michael walking past and not even looking at him, and Calum’s heart breaking. He’s glad for it when Noel rings and asks him to make sure Liam gets to the bus call on time, because fussing over Liam gives him something else to focus all of his nervous energy on. 

They drive through the night, and Calum doesn’t sleep. The rest of them don’t either, though, drinking and smoking (except Liam, on Noel’s orders, and much to his chagrin) and snorting what Liam claims is coke but Noel’s pretty sure is just crushed caffeine pills. By the time they’re all coming down from their wired highs, around four or five in the morning, Calum’s so exhausted that he slips into an easy, dreamless sleep, and it feels like no time has passed at all before he’s been shaken awake gently, blinking up at solemn blue eyes. 

“Soundcheck,” is all Liam says, not looking tired or hungover in the fucking slightest. Calum groans, mouth dry and throat scratchy, and struggles into a seated position to find Liam’s got a cup of water and two paracetamols in his hand. 

“I fucking love you,” Calum says hoarsely, and Liam laughs as Calum grabs the water and pills. 

“Fucking right,” he says with a grin, and then walks away. 

Calum downs the water and pills, and then hears Bonehead shout for him and yells back I’m coming, I’m coming, rolling out of bed and pulling on the first clothes he sees. By the time he’s made his way into the lounge area, rubbing at his eyes blearily and sending up prayers to various gods that the paracetamol kicks in quickly, everyone’s ready to go. It’s probably for the best that Calum doesn’t have time to eat breakfast; his stomach’s flipping like crazy, and Liam’s far too fucking buzzing to stay in the bus a minute longer, hopping from foot to foot with that kind of childlike energy that he’s always inexplicably got, counterbalancing Noel’s stiff, tense posture. 

“Are we doing Walrus?” Liam asks, as they file off the bus and are led in the direction of a tiny room.

“Did you read the fucking setlist?” Noel snaps. 

“You changed it seven fucking times,” Liam shoots back. 

“I fucking showed you the final one this morning,” Noel says. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “What’s all this, then?” Their instruments are set out, mic stands and all, and three techs are hovering by the amps. 

“Quick soundcheck,” one of them explains. “Don’t have time to do a full one for every artist. Just need to see how you want it, then we can set it up on stage when you’re on.” Liam stares at her in disbelief, and then shakes his head and turns to head out of the room. 

“Eeyar,” Noel says sharply, catching him by the elbow. “Where the fuck d’you think you’re going?” 

“What the fuck is this?” Liam demands, gesturing at the whole setup. 

“What, you thought we’d have a full fucking half hour soundcheck?” Noel says. “It’s a fucking festival, Liam.” Liam stares at him for a minute, because he clearly had thought they were going to have a full soundcheck, and then shakes Noel off and walks back out the way they’d come in. 

“Uh-” one of the techs says, but Noel sighs, loud and exasperated, and turns back to them with a shake of his head. 

“Fucking let him go,” he says contemptuously. “He’s just the fucking tambourine player.” 

The soundcheck only lasts ten minutes, and Noel insists that he’ll sort his own amps out anyway, because he’s a fucking control freak, and then they’re told to fuck off and come back at five. 

“Well,” Bonehead says, as they file out of the room. “I’m going back to sleep.” Without waiting for any of them to say anything, he turns on his heel and heads straight back in the direction of the bus.

“The Inspirals are playing today,” Noel says, already looking over Tony’s head and craning around Calum to see if he can spot them anywhere. “Gonna see if I can find them.” 

“Think I’m going to get a drink,” Tony says, and Calum sighs, because that leaves him with the job of finding Liam. 

“Fine, fuck you both,” he says, and receives a middle finger and a two-fingered salute for his trouble. 

He heads halfway with Noel, who peels off abruptly because that’s fucking Johnny Cash, that is, I’m fucking watching that, fuck the Inspirals, and then gets lost on the other half of the way because there are people in black running back and forth and shouting at each other and Calum keeps following them thinking they know where they're going only to end up at a portaloo. 

The artists’ area is just a small tent selling incredibly overpriced beer, but Calum buys one anyway, because the paracetamol’s only half-dulled his headache and Calum’s a big believer in hair of the dog. He sips it as he wanders, eyes flitting left to right to try and spot a loud Mancunian in an oversized jumper. He can’t seem to find Liam, but sees two of the blokes from Radiohead in the distance, one of whom raises a hand at him a little hesitantly. Calum raises his beer in return, because it feels like the polite thing to do, and the guy seems to waver for a moment  before heading over, and Calum groans internally. Fucking hell. Maybe Noel and Liam have the right idea, being absolute cunts to everybody in the business. 

“Calum, right?” the guy says when he gets close, and bloody hell, he’s even fucking shorter than Noel. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. 

“Thom,” the guy says, holding his hand out. Calum stares at it for a moment, trying to process is this twenty-something musician trying to shake my hand like we’re fucking businessmen, and Thom retracts it, a little awkwardly. 

“You’re from Radiohead,” Calum says, more of a statement than a question. 

“Yeah,” Thom says. 

“Creep’s a good song,” Calum says, taking a sip from his beer. Thom cocks his head, like he’s trying to work out if Calum’s taking the piss. 

“Thanks,” he says eventually, a little suspiciously. It’s fair enough, Calum thinks, when he remembers the last time they’d crossed paths; a few weeks ago, Calum cackling as Noel and Liam screamed but I’m a cock, I’m a willy as Radiohead traipsed onto the stage to collect their award. It is a good song, though, although Calum sort of prefers the Gallagher version. 

“You seen my singer, by any chance?” Calum says, figuring it can’t hurt to ask. “‘Bout this tall, mouthy northern lad. Probably getting into a fistfight, or something.” 

“Liam,” Thom says, and really, Calum should have known Thom knew who Liam was. Who the fuck doesn’t know Liam Gallagher? 

“Yeah,” Calum says, “him.” Thom nods.

“Yeah, saw him about ten minutes ago,” he says. 

“Where?” Thom turns, points in the vague direction of a tent in the distance. 

“He was having a go at the barman for the price of the beers,” Thom says, and Calum snorts. 

“Sounds like fucking Liam,” he says, and can’t help the fondness that edges his tone. Thom grins at him, like he's finally finding his footing. 

"They're almost three quid," he says. "It's daylight fucking robbery."

“Fucking festivals,” Calum says, a little derisively, and takes another sip from his extortionately-priced beer. 

“Fucking festivals,” Thom agrees. “Anyway, I’m on in a few, so I’d best get off.”

“I’d better go and save the rest of Glastonbury from Liam,” Calum says. Thom nods, and takes a step back. 

“Oh, by the way,” he adds, as Calum turns to head in the direction of the tent Thom had pointed out. “One of the guys from Blur was looking for you.” Calum’s stomach drops.

“What?” he says, a little too quickly, spinning back around. “Who?” Thom shrugs. 

“Blonde one,” he says. “Don’t know their names.” 

Oh, shit. 

Shit.  

“Cheers,” Calum says, glad for how steady it comes out, and jogs off in the direction of the tent Liam was supposedly last seen in, stomach churning. 

Out of all the fantasies he’s had about this day, about seeing Michael somehow, none of them had involved Michael seeking him out. It had all been chance encounters, Michael watching the Oasis set or Calum watching the Blur set, or bumping into each other backstage, or seeing each other across the small stretch of grass outside the artists’ tent. He’d never stopped to think that maybe Michael would want to speak to him, not after how he’d acted at the awards ceremony. 

“Cal!” he hears, and he whips around with a racing heart, thinking that for a moment it was Michael, the easy way the nickname would drip off Michael’s tongue, but when he turns, he sees Liam, grinning widely, holding up a can of beer that he’s clearly nicked off the tour bus and making his way over to Calum. 

“You’re fucking drunk,” Calum states, when Liam gets within four feet of him. Liam raises an eyebrow, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, and nods. 

“Yep,” he says happily. “How was soundcheck?” 

“Noel’s not happy with you,” Calum informs him, and Liam shrugs. 

“When the fuck is he?” he says carelessly. "I'm arsed. The tit doesn't want anyone to have any fucking fun." Calum just sighs and shakes his head, palms still slick with sweat, eyes flitting over Liam’s head every three seconds just in case Michael’s magically appeared behind him. Liam’s not as drunk as he smells, though, because he catches it, twisting around to look at what’s caught Calum’s attention. 

“What?” he says, when he’s confronted with absolutely nothing. 

“What?” Calum says, defensive and deflecting. Liam turns back to him, both eyebrows raised now. 

“You looking for Mike?” Liam says, a little too knowingly. 

“Michael,” Calum corrects, without thinking. 

“Well, the Blur lot call him Mike,” Liam says. 

“He hates being called Mike,” Calum mutters. 

“Well,” Liam says, with a nonchalant shrug, "not anymore." There's no malice behind the words but they still hurt, because it reminds Calum that he doesn’t know Michael anymore, doesn’t know Mike. 

“Thom from Radiohead said he was looking for me,” Calum says, and he watches Liam’s eyebrows disappear back under his sunglasses, his lips twisting in a frown. 

“You told our kid you wouldn’t talk to him,” he says, and it comes out a little petulant. 

“I haven’t,” Calum says, and hopes Liam doesn’t catch the evasiveness in his tone. Technically, if Michael talks to him, he’s not lying. 

“Good,” Liam says, and then grins brightly. “Want to go and laugh at Radiohead?” 

“Are they on?” Liam shrugs. 

“Think so. Heard some whiny shite out there, ‘s gotta be them, innit?” Calum snorts, and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, go on then,” he says, and Liam’s grin widens. “Anything to make you smile.” 

“Soppy cunt,” Liam says, but his eyes are soft and fond, and Calum laughs as he follows him in the direction of the stages. 

Anything to get Michael off his mind, too. 

  -------

 Noel’s still furious at Liam by the time their set rolls around, and Liam plays into it, refusing to sing the second verse of Fade Away and demanding they shuffle the setlist to play Supersonic first. He cackles when Noel glares at him, grins gleefully when Noel shouts a string of curse words and stomps off, and takes an idle sip from his beer with twinkling eyes when both Bonehead and Calum throw him exasperated looks before following after Noel with ten minutes to go until they’re on stage. 

They manage to convince Noel to come back - or at least to make him feel like coming back is something they’re begging him to do rather than something he was going to do anyway, because Noel always loves feeling like he’s doing them a fucking favour. He kicks Liam in the shin when he passes him on his way to the stairs leading to the stage, hard, and Liam scowls and hurls his almost-empty can of beer at him, missing by a few inches and hitting Tony instead. 

The set passes in a fucking blur. The crowd actually cheer them onto the stage, which makes Calum’s stomach twist and attempt to make its way up his oesophagus in a way that’s strangely pleasant. Liam sings his fucking heart out, looking lazy and bored and effortless, but Calum can see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers are clenched around his stupid fucking tambourine. They sound fucking good, they all know they do, and when Noel and Calum both head for the beers at the back of the stage at the same time they share a quick smile, a fuck, can you believe this is real? smile. 

Calum tries not to scan the crowd for Michael, he really fucking does, but he can’t help himself, and he also can’t help the little pang of disappointment when he can’t spot Michael’s telltale unruly blonde hair anywhere. It’s probably for the best, he tells himself, looking back down at his bass and really focusing on the song. He probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate if Michael were there. 

Noel’s on a fucking high when they get off, kisses Bonehead square on the lips and pulls Liam into a fond headlock, rubbing his knuckles across the top of Liam’s sweaty head as Liam protests but doesn’t try to pull away. 

“That was fucking mega, ” he says, grinning widely as he releases Liam, who stands up straight and shakes his hair out. 

“Fucking was, and all,” Liam says proudly, slinging an arm over Noel’s shoulders. “Me and me little brother-” 

“Eeyar, watch it,” Noel says, but he’s still grinning. 

“-playing fucking Glastonbury,” Liam finishes. “Fucking hell. Wonder if Mam was watching.” 

“‘Course she fucking was,” Noel says, a note of reassurance in his voice. “Wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see her most handsome son play fucking Glastonbury, would she, eh? And you, I s’pose.” He ducks out of Liam’s arm as Liam makes a noise of outrage and lunges for him, laughing, but Liam’s laughing too, chasing after Noel as he skips out of Liam’s reach, and the two of them start shrieking like fucking madmen and tear off in the direction of the artists’ tent, earning themselves strange looks from everyone they pass. Tony, Bonehead and Calum watch them as they disappear into the distance for a moment, each of them thinking the same thing - who, how, and what the fuck are the Gallagher brothers? 

“I reckon if I ever understand those two I’d deserve a fucking Nobel prize,” Bonehead comments, and Calum and Tony both murmur their agreement. 

Tony’s mate’s is in some band playing on the fucking Jazz World Stage, of all things, so he says he’s going to go and see if he can catch the tail end of their set. Calum tells him it’s a good fucking thing he kept that to himself until after the brothers had left, because he wouldn’t hear the end of it otherwise, and Bonehead grins and says gives me the pleasure of telling them, too. Tony just flips them both off as he walks away, and they return the favour.  

“I’m fucking rank,” Bonehead says, not sounding all too unhappy about it, as they approach the tent. 

“You are,” Calum agrees, and ducks the inevitable swat Bonehead aims at the back of his head. 

“You’re not all fucking roses yourself,” Bonehead tells him, and Calum shrugs. He can live with that. 

“I’ll shower later,” he says. 

“You fucking will,” Bonehead says. “Not fucking getting on a bus with you smelling like that.” Calum scowls, because he knows he doesn’t smell that bad, and Bonehead throws him a winning smile as he ducks into the tent ahead of Calum. 

Liam and Noel are at the bar, shouting loudly at the bartender and each other and anyone who comes within three feet of them, and Calum decides to steer well clear of that and head out of the back of the tent to the little stretch of grass. 

“I fancy a beer,” Bonehead says, already halfway to the bar, and Calum shrugs - clearly Bonehead’s not seen the fucking prices - and steps out on his own. 

There are a few people milling around, a few people Calum thinks he might have seen at afterparties and a few people that are clearly hangers-on, and he heads for an empty spot by the fence in the corner, not wanting to go through a conversation with any of these people. He digs around in his pocket for a cigarette and puts it to his lips, cupping his left hand around it as he fumbles with his lighter in his right, and his eyes flutter shut as he inhales the first delicious drag and holds it in. 

“They’ll kill you, y’know,” a low voice says, and Calum’s eyes fly open as he chokes on the smoke currently in his lungs. 

A blonde, Thom had said. A blonde from Blur. 

Not Michael. 

Damon. 

“Gotta die of something,” Calum says, when he recovers, noting the amused expression on Damon’s face. 

“Good for the nerves, too,” Damon agrees, and brings his own cigarette to his lips. Fucking hypocrite. 

“What d’you want?” Calum says. Damon takes a long drag of the cigarette, eyeing Calum shrewdly. Calum’s had enough of shrewd blue eyes, fucking hell. 

“To talk about Mike,” Damon says eventually, and tilts his head up to exhale a cloud of grey smoke. Calum watches it swirl for a minute, separating into wisps that the wind catches and carries away from them. 

“What about him?” 

“What happened with the two of you?” Damon sounds curious. Calum shrugs jerkily. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking him that?” he fires back. 

“I did.” 

“So what are you here for?” 

“Your side of it.” 

“What the fuck d’you want that for?” Damon shrugs, and takes another drag of his cigarette. It reminds Calum of his own, burning right down to the filter in his hand, and he brings it to his lips. Damon has a point about it being good for the nerves. 

“I care about him,” Damon says simply, after a moment. He doesn’t add anything else, but the threat is clear: if you’ve fucked with him, or if you ever fuck with him again, I’ll fucking kill you. Calum would like to see him try, because he’d have to get past both Noel and Liam first.

“Well, whatever the fuck he told you is probably true,” Calum mutters. Damon cocks his head. 

“You dated?” Calum tries not to squirm. 

“Yeah.” 

“You fell in love?” 

“Guess so.” 

“You dropped him the minute you moved to the UK?” Calum’s head whips around to face Damon. What the fuck has Michael been saying? That's not true, not really. He'd kept sending letters for a year and a half, or so, hadn't he? What was he supposed to do when Michael stopped writing as often? 

“Not exactly,” he says, and Damon raises an eyebrow. 

“You didn’t start ignoring his letters?” he questions. 

“Well, yeah, but he stopped sending as many,” Calum says. Damon’s eyebrows stay raised, and his lips quirk up in a small, almost sad smile. 

“You don’t see a correlation there?” he says. Calum shrugs, and takes another drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and grinding it out with his shoe. 

“He never told me he was coming here,” he says. “Never told me he was in Blur, either. Way I see it, we’re even.” They’re not even, they’ll never be fucking even, but he’s not going to tell Damon that. 

He starts heading back in the direction of the tent, intending to go straight to Noel and tell him Damon’s just tried to get in his head about Michael, but Damon catches his arm as he steps away. Calum turns back around and yanks his arm out of Damon’s grasp with a scowl.

“How long have you known?” Damon asks. 

“What?” Calum says irritably. 

“About Mike. How long have you known?” Calum stares at him. 

“How long has he known?” he asks. 

“A year,” Damon says, and Calum’s heart clenches. Michael’s known Calum’s in Oasis for a fucking year, and never once tried to reach out. 

“Well?” Damon prompts, and Calum clenches his teeth.

“Three months,” he says shortly, and then turns on his heel and heads in the direction of the artists’ tent before Damon can say anything else, heart in his fucking mouth. 

A year. A fucking year. Michael’s known what Calum’s been up to, known about him and his band, probably even known where he’s been on the odd occasion for a fucking year, and he’s never said anything, never even mentioned it to his own bandmates until his arm was twisted. 

Well, Calum thinks bitterly, as he ducks into the tent to see Noel, Liam and Bonehead all laughing and grinning at the bar. At least he knows where he stands with Michael, then. And at least he’s somewhere with Liam’s drugs and overpriced booze to drown his sorrows. 

  -------

  A few hours later, a little high and a lot stoned and even more drunk, Calum’s wandering around outside when Liam catches him, slips an arm around his waist and pulls him in for a warm, sweaty hug. 

“Want to go and heckle Blur?” he asks, grinning into Calum’s shoulder, sunglasses pressing uncomfortably into Calum’s collarbone, and Calum’s heart skips a beat. 

“Are they playing?” Liam pulls back and nods, and Calum shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. 

“Sure,” he says, wishing Liam would take the sunglasses off so Calum can see what he’s thinking. Liam doesn’t, just grabs Calum by the arm and starts steering him in the direction of the stage they’d played all of six hours ago. 

They pass by one of the other stages, a smaller one, where what sounds like a country duo are playing, deep voices booming while middle-aged men tap their feet thoughtfully to the acoustic guitars, and then the sound of guitars and a faux-Cockney accent start to drown them out. They turn the corner and then they’re there, squinting at the tiny pinpricks on the stage about a fucking mile in front of them. 

“Fucking hell,” Liam complains. “Can’t even fucking see the pricks.” Without waiting for a response from Calum, he starts shoving through the crowd, shouting watch my fucking beer at anyone who jostles back against him, and Calum follows close behind before the crowd can close around the path he’s created again, until they’re about five rows from the stage. Calum’s been so focused on his feet the whole time, not wanting to trip up and spill the the fucking £2.50 beer that he’d shelled out on, that he’s not actually looked up, and when he does he’s startled by how close they actually are, by the fact that he can see the beads of sweat on Damon’s throat, the vein on his neck as he sings. 

Calum’s eyes, like they’re magnets and Michael’s fucking north, immediately find Michael, who’s staring down at his guitar and nodding along to the song - something about there being no other way, if Calum’s making out the lyrics blasting out from the speakers correctly. It’s sort of catchy, but they’ve come in towards the end and it’s winding down, and it’s only about twenty seconds before the final chord rings out and Damon stands back, breathing heavily. 

“Is there anyone who’s French out there?” he asks, as the other guitarist - Graham, Calum thinks idly, as some of the crowd cheer - plucks out a few random notes. 

“Really?” Damon says, sounding surprised. “How many, put your hands up, let’s have a look.” He pauses. “How many Germans? Oh, that’s too many French. I don’t believe you.” He pulls the mic off the mic stand and looks down at his feet. “Okay, well. This is for you. Mon amis.” 

A synth and drums start up, something slower than the last song, and Graham and Michael start playing chords on an offbeat and an on-beat. Calum watches Michael, bathed in the soft disco-ball light they’ve got going on at the moment, fingers moving lazily across the fretboard, and his heart aches. He remembers Michael struggling to switch from a C to a G back in the music room at school, remembers how he had to show Michael where to place his fingers for an E at least six times before he got it, and now Michael’s here, playing the fucking NME stage at Glastonbury like it’s nothing. 

He’s not even listening to what Damon’s singing, too focused on the little crease between Michael’s brows as he nods along to the song, until Michael looks up for the first time, and looks straight at Calum. 

Calum knows Michael’s looking at him, no one else, from  the way he freezes, by the way his shoulders tense and his eyes widen and his lips part a little. It’d be easy for him to pretend that he hasn’t seen him, for him to look away and scan the rest of the crowd, but he doesn’t. His eyes stay fixed on Calum, half in shock, half in something that looks like grim determination, Damon’s voice providing the soundtrack to accompany Calum’s racing heart. 

“Well, you and I, collapsed in love,” Damon sings. “And it looks like we might have made it; yes, it looks like we made it to the end.” 

Calum’s stomach drops. 

That’s about him. He knows it is, can’t put his finger on why but he knows it, and he knows when Michael sees that Calum’s realised it because he blinks, slow and sad, but doesn’t stop looking at Calum. 

“What happened to us?” Damon asks, but it’s Michael’s words. “Soon it will be gone forever.” Calum can’t make out the next two lines, but it doesn’t matter, because he can see Michael swallow, can see the way his left hand is clenching the fretboard far too tightly, and knows it’s because of him. 

“Well, you and I, collapsed in love,” Damon repeats, and the crowd sings along with him, and Calum’s heart feels like it’s going to splinter when Michael shifts a little, takes a step to the left, but his eyes don’t leave Calum’s. This is for you, he’s saying. This is for us.  

Some kind of string instrument is playing in the background, and Damon sits himself down at a piano and plays something that Calum can’t even make out, and Calum can tell the song’s coming to an end but he doesn’t want it to, doesn’t want the moment to be broken. Damon stands back up again, grabs the mic, and heads back to the front of the stage, pulling on the wire so he doesn’t trip over it. 

“Well, you and I,” he sings again. “Collapsed in love. And it looks like we might have made it; yes it looks like we made it to the end.” He lingers on the final note, and the strings swell, and Calum knows he’s only got a few seconds of Michael left, of having Michael to himself in front of thousands and thousands of people. He blinks up at him, wonders whether Michael can see whatever tangled web of emotions he’s feeling reflected in his eyes - regret, maybe, grief,  definitely, yearning, possibly. 

Michael’s still playing, those off- and on-beat chords, and the dim lights on the stage fade out, leaving Calum to gaze at Michael silhouetted in only the disco-ball lights. He can’t see Michael’s face anymore but can still feel Michael’s eyes on him, locked with his own, and just before the song finishes, just as they start to slow down and head into the final bar, a light crosses Michael’s face for the briefest of moments and Michael, eyes on Calum, offers him a tiny, sad smile. 

The song finishes, and the crowd cheer, and Michael takes a few steps back on the stage, bending down to pick something up, and then they’re heading into the next song, an upbeat, guitar-heavy track that has everyone jumping up and down except Calum and Liam. 

“This is fucking shite,” Liam shouts halfway through the song, sounding annoyed, like the fact that Blur’s music isn’t to his taste is a personal attack. 

“Yeah,” Calum says, a little dazed.

“ This is our competition?” Liam’s got his arms folded, beer resting on his elbow. “There’s not even a fucking competition. We’re fucking rock ‘n’ roll, we are. What the fuck is this wank?” 

“Dunno,” Calum says. Liam scoffs. 

“Pricks,” he says derisively, and turns to Calum. “‘S not even fucking worth heckling. Let’s just fucking go.” Calum nods numbly, and Liam starts shouldering through the crowd again, shoving two of his fingers up at anyone who dares call him a cunt for doing so. 

A third song’s started by the time they get to the back of the crowd and manage to slip out and get to the path leading back in the direction of the artists’ tent, and Liam scoffs again as he takes a long swig of his beer. 

“ Parklife ,” he says mockingly, along with the crowd, and shakes his head. “Fucking insulting, that is, that we’re being pitted against them. How the fuck are they rock ‘n’ roll, eh? How the fuck?” Calum just shrugs, scuffing his shoes against the dirt path. 

“What was that with you and Mike, then?” Liam says, almost conversationally, as they turn the corner. Calum’s head shoots up to look at him. 

“What was what?” he says, too quickly, and curses inwardly, because he’s given himself away. 

“That,” Liam says knowingly. “Fucking staring at you for the whole song, he was.” Calum looks back down at his feet, steadfastly counting the number of times his laces criss-cross on his shoes. 

“Damon came and talked to me earlier,” he mutters, because he hasn’t had a chance to tell any of them yet. Or, he has, but drowning his feelings had felt more urgent, and he didn’t want to mention Michael’s name to Noel when he looked to be in such a good mood. 

“What the fuck?” Liam demands. “I’ll fucking deck him, I will.” The ghost of a smile crosses Calum’s lips. 

“You don’t even know what he said,” he says, but something warm is spreading through his lungs at the fact that Liam’s that willing to defend his honour. 

“Don’t fucking care,” Liam growls. “Been fucking gagging for a chance to deck him. Fucking posh prick.” Well. Maybe defending Calum's honour is at least amongst the reasons for that.

“Just wanted to talk about Michael,” Calum says. 

“Cunt,” Liam says venomously. “Why?” 

“I don’t know,” Calum admits. “Said he wanted to hear my side of the story.”

“What the fuck for?” Liam says. “I don’t fucking care what Mike has to say, do I?” Calum shrugs again. 

“He wanted to know how long I’d known about Michael,” he says. 

“Did he say how long Michael’s known?” Calum hesitates. 

“A year,” he mumbles. 

“A year? ” Liam says, sounding outraged. “A fucking year? And he never fucking told them?” Calum shakes his head, and Liam makes a scornful noise. “Fucking wanker.” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, trying to quash the guilt that rises in his chest and tells him you might not have told them, either. 

“Why the fuck was he eyeing you up that whole song, then?” Liam asks. Calum swallows. You know where my loyalties lie, he’d told Noel, and he’d meant it. Oasis are his band, Noel and Liam are his best friends, and Michael’s a part of his past. It doesn’t matter that his heart might still be seventeen years old; he’s got to be here, in 1994, not 1989. 

“It’s about me,” he says. Liam stops. 

“What’s about you?” 

“That song. That’s why he was looking at me.” It’s dark, and Calum can’t see Liam all that clearly, but he can make out the way his lips twist in a thin line. 

“How d’you know?” 

“Just do.” 

“Well,” Liam says, slinging an arm around Calum’s shoulders and pulling him in possessively. “You’ve got us. We’re not going to fucking let that bastard do anything to you.” 

Privately, Calum thinks he might actually want Michael to do something to him, but he just forces a smile and wraps an arm around Liam’s waist as they head into the tent for a drink and maybe a few lines. God knows Calum fucking needs it. 

  -------

  At about two in the morning, off his head on coke and expensive beer, Liam decides it’d be a great idea to insult one of the singers in Chumbawamba, which leads to a scuffle that Liam’s all too happy to get in the middle of and ends up dragging Noel into too, leaving them both with bruises flowering high on their cheeks and tongues probing to make sure they’ve still got all their teeth. Neither of them seem to care that much, though, probably both too fucked to feel it, and Calum watches them get shepherded away to the medical tent by their manager Alan, swaying a little as they go. Bonehead’s long gone, disappeared with some pretty ginger woman on his arm, and Tony still hasn’t come back from his fucking jazz band, so Calum’s left on his own, sipping his beer and trying to make himself as invisible as possible in the corner so that bloody Thom Yorke won’t come and talk to him again. 

He gets through a few more pints, watching the crowd thin as the night wears on, before his bladder starts to kick up a real fuss at the amount of liquid he’s consumed in the past few hours and he slips off to the toilets. 

The door’s locked when he tries it, and he can hear two male voices inside but can’t make out what they’re saying, and decides it’s probably for the best that way. He takes a few steps back, just in case they start fucking or fighting or whatever the fuck it is they’re doing in there, because he doesn’t want to have to listen to that, and rests the back of his head against the wall, taking deep breaths as he realises that shit, he’s a lot fucking drunker than he thought he was. 

He lets his eyes flutter shut as the room starts to swim a little bit, making his stomach roll, and sags back against the wall, focusing on his breathing - seven in, eleven out, Liam always says to Noel when he’s having a bad trip, or maybe it’s eleven in, seven out? Fuck it, he can’t remember, but he’s breathing, and that’s probably what matters. 

He’s so focused on inhaling, exhaling, in, out, that he doesn’t hear someone come up behind him until they make a small noise of surprise, a tiny gasp, that makes him open his eyes. 

It’s Michael. 

“Oh, fuck,” Calum mutters, and squeezes his eyes shut again. Maybe Michael will be gone when he re-opens them. M aybe this is just a drug-and-lack-of-sleep-induced hallucination. 

Michael’s not gone when Calum opens his eyes. In fact, he’s a little clearer, not so fuzzy around the edges anymore. He’s standing about two feet away, face set in a mask of shock, staring at Calum like he can’t quite believe he’s there. Even in the dim light of the corridor Calum can make out the new lines on his face, concrete evidence of the years without Calum. He’s lived, breathed, aged without Calum, documented in the crow’s feet at his eyes, the way his laughter lines have deepened, and it makes Calum’s stomach lurch, makes bile rise in his throat to see the irrefutable evidence of a life Michael’s led without him. 

“You look old,” he blurts, without meaning to, and Michael blinks at him. There’s a moment of silence, a moment where Calum’s heart skids to the brink of shattering, thinking fuck, this is it, this is fucking it, and then Michael opens his mouth. 

“So do you,” he says, and Calum’s heart shudders to a halt, torn between taking that last step over the edge and giving out altogether. His voice is soft, a little tentative but with an edge of firmness that Calum’s not used to hearing from Michael, the same, familiar Australian accent now a little muted, diluted by southern English. 

They stare at each other for a moment, and Calum blinks hard, trying to focus his eyes and his mind and to wade through the mist of inebriation to find that little part of him that’s sober, the part that’ll tell him how to conduct himself in this first conversation with Michael since 1989 without embarrassing himself. Liam’s weed was a little too strong, though - or maybe it was the coke, because it definitely can’t have been the exorbitantly priced beers - because Calum’s mind stays firmly foggy, no rational thoughts getting through the mist of drugs. Tomorrow, he’ll blame the next words he says on that, he thinks vaguely, as they’re already tumbling off his tongue. 

“You knew,” he says, and it comes out as an accusation. Good, he thinks, a little venomously, a little dazedly. It is an accusation. 

“What?” Michael says, a little defensive. He knows what Calum’s talking about, but he doesn’t want to give it away. Well, Calum thinks spitefully, thank fuck him and his singer aren't on the same page about that.

“You knew,” Calum repeats. He sways a little on the spot, and puts a hand on the wall to steady himself. “Damon said. You knew.” Michael frowns, a little crease between his brows that Calum’s itching to reach up and trace with the pads of his fingers. He clenches his fist against the wall instead, and sees Michael’s eyes flit to it, and then back to his face. 

“Yeah,” Michael says, carefully even. “I knew.” 

“A year.” Calum just wants the confirmation. Say it, he thinks, just in case this brand new Michael’s developed telepathic abilities on top of his confidence and guitar skills. Say you didn’t want to talk to me. 

“Yeah.” Michael says it calmly, coolly, like Calum’s supposed to just take it and feel nothing. Maybe Michael feels nothing, Calum thinks wildly, and the thought almost makes him retch. 

“Why?” 

“Why d’you think?” Michael says. He folds his arms and stares at Calum, more confident than Calum’s ever seen him before, and it makes him feel small, pathetic, drunk.  

“Because I stopped writing.” Michael doesn’t say anything to that, but Calum sees the way his lips twitch in a tiny grimace. 

“Stopped caring about me,” Michael says, and Calum realises it’s supposed to be a correction. 

“No,” he says.

“No?” 

“No.”  

“Did a pretty convincing job of acting like you did.” Michael’s tone is all hard now, diamonds and steel, and it makes Calum flinch a little. Or maybe his words do, Calum’s not quite sure. Or maybe it’s just Michael. 

“Well. Thought I did,” Calum admits, because in fairness, he had. He hadn’t thought about Michael in years, really, had been too busy or too high to let any thoughts of Australia cross his mind, and that had sort of equated to well, I guess I don't care that much anymore, then.

But the fucking state of him now, and the state of him the past three months, should be all the proof Michael could ever want. 

“Right.” Michael’s not convinced. Calum tries a different tack. 

“Who the fuck is Mike?” he says. It makes sense in his head, he thinks, a little drunkenly. I know you, he’s trying to say. Are you still there?

“I am.” 

“You hate being called Mike.” 

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” Michael holds Calum’s gaze with his own hard stare, face carefully blank and guarded, and Calum feels something simultaneously bitter and delicious unfurling in his stomach. He’s not quite sure what Michael’s trying to say with that - I’m not yours anymore, maybe. Calum’s glad he’s drunk enough to pretend he can’t hear it. 

“Why the fuck were you talking to Damon?” Michael asks after a minute, and his tone is still even and calm but he’s given himself away with the question. He doesn’t want Calum to talk to Damon, and he wants to know what was said, and Calum’s stomach flips as he thinks that’s something. There’s a reason he doesn’t want me to talk to Damon. I've just got to find out what that reason is. 

“He talked to me,” Calum says. 

“Why?” 

“Ask him.” Michael’s eyes narrow, but Calum doesn't tear his eyes away, brown searching green. It’s unnerving, he thinks, not to know what’s going on in Michael’s head. It’s unnerving not to know Michael anymore, jars with something deep in his soul, like he should always know Michael and it's wrong like this. 

“Your bandmates are cunts,” Michael says, like he’s testing the waters. “The brothers.” 

“Yeah.” Both pride and guilt swell in Calum’s chest - pride, because those are his fucking best friends, and guilt, because he shouldn’t be talking to Michael. You know where my loyalties lie, he’d said. And they are with his band; he hadn’t been lying, but his loyalties are hidden somewhere in the murky depths of regret and love and unfinished business right now. 

“You don’t care?” 

“They’re my best friends.” Michael raises an eyebrow. 

“For now.” The implication rings loud and clear between them - yeah, until you drop them, just like you dropped me.  

“I’m not seventeen anymore either,” Calum says. I’m better now.  

“Good.” 

They stand in silence for a moment, and Calum shifts his weight from one foot to the other, trying to find a position that he doesn’t feel dizzy and light-headed in, but to no avail. 

“You look drunk,” Michael says. “Thanks,” Calum says, like he doesn’t want to cry. God, he’s too fucking high for this. “I am.” Michael hums, green eyes flitting from Calum’s face to his chest and arms and back again. It’s no different to how girls look at him, how boys look at him - how Noel looks at him, sometimes - but under Michael’s gaze he feels like he’s burning up, like he’s suddenly ten times drunker than he actually is. 

“I liked your set today,” Michael says lowly, like he shouldn’t be saying it. Calum blinks at him. 

“You weren’t there,” he says stupidly. Michael frowns.

“I was,” he says. 

“I didn’t see you,” Calum says, and then feels his eyes widen, because shit. He’s essentially just told Michael he was looking for him. 

“Oh,” Michael says, sounding distant, and Calum thinks he might be sick because Michael knows, knows Calum wanted him to be there. Fuck. Fuck.  

He closes his eyes again, breathes in deeply again, tries to focus on something - anything - that isn’t his churning stomach. 

“Are you alright?” Michael asks, sounding a little curious and a little concerned. 

“Yeah,” Calum manages to get out. 

“You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Might be.” 

“Oh.” 

Calum sinks to the floor, thinking somewhere in the depths of his mind that sitting on the ground and not throwing up on Michael is better than staying standing but throwing up on Michael, and tries to even out his shaky breathing. In, out, Liam always says, in, out. That’s all you need to do. 

“D’you want some water?” he hears, soft and hesitant, and he cracks open one eye to see Michael crouching at eye-level, looking a little worried and a lot pained, like he doesn’t want to be letting his guard down but just can’t help himself. It makes Calum’s stomach flip, but not unpleasantly. It counterbalances the nausea still swirling in his stomach and throat, settles it a little bit. Fucking typical that Michael's both the poison and the antidote.

“D’you have any?” Calum says, and Michael shakes his head. Calum can’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbles out of him at that, and he puts his head in his hands. 

“What the fuck is this?” he mutters into his fingers, more to himself than to Michael, but he hears a small sigh from his left and knows Michael’s heard anyway. There’s a rustling sound, and then a thump, and Calum’s eyes fly open to see Michael sat next to him, cross-legged, looking a little sad. 

“Water never helped you anyway,” he says, which isn’t at all an answer to what Calum’s just said, but it is, at the same time. I remember you, is what he’s really saying. I remember us. It's a concession, giving Calum something in return for the I was looking for you that his tongue had torn from his heart and offered to Michael. Calum thinks that probably means something, that Michael's admitting he remembers Calum like that, but he's too fucking drunk and high to work it out. 

The words hang between them for a moment, and Calum’s stomach settles a little, and his vision sharpens again. He tries not to think about the fact that Michael's admission  is responsible for the fact that he can focus on Michael now, can see every crease in Michael’s brow, every lash on his eyes, every freckle on his skin. 

“You’re still pretty,” Calum says without thinking, and Michael sits back on his heels, huffing out a laugh that sounds a little surprised. 

“Cheers, mate,” he says, tone unreadable, and stands up again. Calum’s eyes follow him as he goes, tilting his head up to keep his gaze trained on Michael, and Michael stares down at him, making Calum’s heart flutter strangely in his chest as a memory of the last time Michael had been staring down at him from that angle flashes in his mind. He can see it cross Michael’s mind too from the way his lips twist a little, but then it’s gone, and he’s just blinking down at Calum, and holding out a hand. 

Calum looks at it for a moment, looks at the soft, pale skin that doesn’t look at all like it belongs to a fucking guitarist, before his brain registers what Michael’s offering and he reaches out himself with cold, clammy fingers, wrapping his hand around Michael’s. Michael pulls and Calum lets himself be pulled, stumbling to his feet and trying his best not to think about the way Michael’s hand feels against his, like it’s fucking made for him. 

Calum sways for a moment, the room spinning, and he lets go of Michael’s hand to steady himself against the wall, blinking like it’s going to clear his vision. After a few deep breaths, though, it slows down, and Calum feels safe enough to chance looking over at Michael again. He’s still looking at Calum, and now that Calum’s feeling less woozy he can see the glaze of alcohol over his eyes, the glassiness of them, and it makes him feel somewhat more secure. Maybe Michael won’t remember this tomorrow, he thinks, pretending not to notice the edge of wild desperation to the thought. 

They stand in awkward silence for a minute, and then Calum can’t take it anymore, bangs on the door of the toilet, because who the fuck is spending that long in there? 

“Piss off!” he hears someone - Liam, even his drink-and-drug-addled mind can tell - yell. “Some of us are taking fucking drugs in here.” 

“Without me?” Calum yells back. 

“Yeah, fuck off,” Liam shouts, but two seconds later the door clicks open and Liam’s face appears, eyes hooded and pupils blown. 

“Thought you were with the paramedics,” Calum says. Liam blinks at him, and then a second face appears, craning to see over Liam’s shoulder. Noel. 

“We were,” Noel says, grinning toothily. “And now we’re not.” Fucking hell, wasn’t Alan supposed to be keeping an eye on them? Maybe they should have hired a teetotal manager. 

“Well, fucking let me piss, then,” Calum says, making for the door, and Liam steps aside obediently but Noel blocks his path. 

“Give us a kiss,” he says. Calum scoffs, trying to disguise the way his heart’s plummeting, because he can see out of the corner of his eye that Michael’s still fucking there, still standing a few feet away, a little in the shadows, sober enough to realise that making the Gallaghers aware of his presence wouldn’t be a good move. 

“Fuck off,” he says, and tries to shoulder past Noel. The bastard’s stronger than he looks, though, one hand on each side of the doorframe to steady himself. 

“I’ll let you in when you give us a kiss,” he says. 

“I’ll fucking piss on you if you don’t let me in,” Calum counters. Noel just cackles. 

“Don’t you want to kiss your favourite bandmate?” he says, eyes glittering with mirth. Calum scowls at him. 

“Liam, give us a kiss,” he calls. Noel laughs again, bright-eyed and happy, and Liam waltzes over to the door, staggering a little, and presses an exaggerated, sloppy kiss to Calum’s lips. 

“Now let him in, eh?” Liam says imperiously, turning to Noel, and Noel rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning as he steps away from the door. Calum almost trips over himself in his haste to get to the urinal, but, even in his desperate and inebriated state, he can’t help shooting one last look over his shoulder at Michael. He still can’t make his face out, can’t see what he’s thinking, but he hopes that maybe Michael can see what’s going through Calum’s head - sorry, sorry, sorry, even if Calum’s not quite sure what he’s sorry for; the conversation, kissing Liam, the fact he’s getting to piss and Michael isn’t, or everything else. 

“What’s up with you, then?” Noel asks curiously, as Calum rests his forehead against the cool tiles behind the urinal, exhaling shakily. 

“Just drunk,” Calum mutters, closing his eyes. 

“Drunk?” Noel says, a little incredulously. “Off the fucking water they sell here? You'd need about fifty pints. Must be fucking broke, you.” Calum shrugs. 

“Nah,” he hears Liam say from behind him. “‘S the fucking coke, innit? Told you that was quality, didn’t I?” Noel scoffs.

“You wouldn’t know quality coke if it bit you in the arse,” he says derisively. “You’d snort fucking anything.” 

“Aye,” Liam says, “that’s why I know that was quality, that.” 

Calum’s glad for it when they start bickering, voices rising as they start arguing in earnest, because it covers up his unsteady breathing, the way he’s still having to fight back the urge to retch. 

(Privately, he thinks it was neither the coke nor the beer nor even the weed that did it, but Michael.)

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chapter four

[angelinarecs]

Updated Pacific Rim Recs

Organized by pairing (or gen) and then alphabetized by title. Summaries (which have been copied from their respective stories) and descriptions are provided. Notation at the end of the description indicates if a story is completed or a WIP.

Gen

Take Up Your Spade and Break Ground - Tendo Choi is a 911 dispatcher because it pays well and because he’s damn good at it. He doesn’t take the job with the expectation of finding a family – but sometimes the people who call end up up meaning a hell of a lot, and Tendo’s never been one to stay detached. Friendship/Family. Tendo POV, very well written and the plot is original. A great AU overall. I really loved following Tendo and his relationships to the Shatterdome people through his work at 911. One-shot.

Hermann, Newton Friendship

All the Colors of the Rainbow - The first thing Newt noticed about Hermann was that he was a neat freak. Well. Okay. Maybe not a neat freak. Maybe just an ordinarily-neat person who didn’t like kaiju guts in his work space. Sharing a lab was going to be a challenge … Drama. Am I reccing this because Newt is autistic? Yes, yes I am. Also, these drabbles do wonders at showing the day-to-day struggles of Newton and Hermann sharing a lab. One-shot.

Hush Now - Hermann is upset and Newt tries to cheer him up. It either goes horribly wrong or horribly right- he’s not sure. Hurt/Comfort. Hermann gets an unfortunate phone call from his father and Newt is there to pick up the pieces. Drabble length, but still sweet. One-shot.

Not Unwelcome - Set directly after the events of the movie. Hermann leaves the celebrations to give himself some space, away from the loud people clapping him on the back, away from the happily drunken crowd, and, maybe, a bit of space away from Newt. Naturally, the moment he disappears, Newt goes after him. Minor angst ensues. Friendship/Angst. Cute, fluffly, indulgent, everything you want out of a feel-good story. An enjoyable read. One-shot.

Tröstung - When Hermann is three years old, his mother gives him a stuffed lamb. Angst/Friendship. Following Hermann through the years in his interactions with his  comfort object (an adorable sheep names Oskar). The premise and structure of the story really does a nice job at providing snapshots in Hermann’s life and development as he grows into the brilliant scientist he is. The story also provides a brief insight into Hermann and Newt’s relationship. One-shot.

Hermann/Newton

a ghost will be here in my stead - Hermann is feeling under the weather. Hurt/Comfort/Fluff. Post Uprising. Hermann falls ill after pushing himself too far to save Newton from the Precursors. Newton picks up the pieces. One-shot.

A Hand That Hold No Weapon - On their way back to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Newton helps Gottlieb adjust to the after effects of drifting together. Drama/Hurt/Comfort. A much needed story after Hermann and Newton drift. Fun story, okay writing. One-shot.

A Momentary Lapse of Reason - It’s Newton’s fault, really. That Hermann is stuck on the floor of the Kwoon, feeling more than a bit useless and broken. Fluff/Hurt/Comfort. Hermann pushes himself too hard trying to physically work out his self-loathing. Newton is there to pick up the pieces. One-shot.

A Not so Simple Cold - Herman is sick. Really sick. He, however, is choosing to ignore how sick he is which Newton does not agree with. Fighting ensues but some realizations about their feelings for one another also come to a head. Fluff. One of those sickfics that’s not particularly original nor well written, but definitely scratched the hurt/comfort itch when needed. One-shot.

A Warm and Gentle Tug -  Hermann has a fear of having his blood drawn due to the fact that he always passes out or gets sick while it happens. This time around however, Hermann takes Newt along with him to his appointment to help ease him. Hurt/Comfort. Not the best writing here, but the relationship is fun. Mainly reccing because I have the exact same problem getting my blood drawn. One-shot.

Battered and Bruised - When Hermann comes to Newt’s defense, it doesn’t end well. Hurt/Comfort. Short and somewhat sweet. Newton and Hermann try to fix each other up after getting into a fight at a bar. One-shot.

Blue All Over - The worst one was recorded on a cold dreary day in the autumn of 2021. Hurt/Comfort. One of their many, and possible one of their worst, lab accidents. Herman is a self sacrificing idiot and Newton is at least fast on his feet. One-shot.

Collision - A kiss gone wrong. Romance/Humor. Hermann and Newton being dorky and clumsy. Cute, but short, story. One-shot.

Dehydration Sensation - Hermann doesn’t handle heat well. Hurt/Comfort. Hermann doesn’t take care of himself in the middle of a heat wave and Newt once again has to pick up the pieces. Including obstinate, delirious, and dissaproving Hermann alongside exasperated Newton! One-shot.

Homeostasis - The K-science laboratory stands on its own plane of existence; life within its concrete walls runs in parallel to life in the bigger world of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Yet even here the laws of physics apply. Whenever Hermann’s body isn’t failing him, Newton’s mind is on the verge of breaking. Hurt/Comfort. The scientists have a rough day in the lab. I really enjoyed the contrast of the mental and physical given that each Hermann and Newt suffer from their own handicaps. Seeing the ailments as both a foil and a complement to each other was a very compelling look into their relationship. One-shot.

Incessant - Hermann’s physical limitations frustrate him to tears. Angst. Newton tries to help Hermann after a fall, Hermann is frustrated that his body won’t cooperate with anything. Poor Newt has to make this situation at least bearable for both of them. The selling points for this story is mostly domestic science boyfriends and an accurate depiction of the frustrations that come with being disabled/handicapped. One-shot.

Keep Your Mouth Shut, Keep Your Guard Up -  Hercules Hansen does not understand why Hermann won’t just tell him why he got in a fight with the new J-Tech. It’s obvious who came out worse for wear. Hurt/Comfort/Romance. Hermann just wants to protect Newton, they just keep getting into trouble. So wonderfully in character. I love these two. One-shot.

Laundry Day - “I must have almost popped the question a hundred times, but the timing never seemed…right, you know?” “And you decided nearly killing me in the middle of laundromat was the Platonic ideal of romance, did you?” Aka the one where Hermann launders Newt’s jacket and finds rather more than he bargained for. Hermann/Newt. Romance/Humor. This story is just so cute. I love how the everyday interaction between Newt and Hermann turns into such a touching/adorable moment. One-shot.

Oh, They’re Gonna Have to Fight Me - The Drift makes them realize they belong together. Now that they cancelled the apocalypse, there’s nothing left for them to do but live out their lives in happiness. That is, until Hermann realizes there’s more to the nightmares that Newt keeps having. (In which they don’t spend those ten years apart, and Hermann is there to figure it out and save Newt when the Precursors start taking over him.) Fluff/Angst. They win the war, get married, and live happily ever after until they don’t. If you were anything like me, the sequel really disappointed on the whole “haven’t seen you in ten years” bit. This is the fix-it that we needed for our science husbands as Hermann has to navigate his relationship with Newt while realizing exactly how compromised his husband truly is. Complete.  

Pride - Newmann oneshot. Newt takes Hermann on a date to his first LGBT parade- fluff through and through, except for a little reference to acephobia. Romance/Friendship. Am I reccing this entirely because Hermann is asexual? Yes, yes I am. Also features cute relationships, Newton coming up with a bunch of “queer” orientated pet names for Hermann, and some good points about sexuality. One-shot.

Somewhere, Something - Newt and Hermann start dating in the rush of change the end of war brings. Each of them is frightened that the other doesn’t realize what he’s in for. Hurt/Comfort/Angst. The science boyfriends help each other out as they grow closer in their relationship. I really appreciate the take on both mental and physical health issues. Two-shot, complete.

strange perceptions - The most essential question to pose, obviously, is why is Hermann presently finding himself contained in a shut-down emergency decontamination unit with only his lab partner as company, having forgone not only the process of actual decontamination but also the process of being noticed by anyone at all. The answer is frustratingly straightforward: because Newton. Angst/Hurt/Comfort. In which feelings are shared and realizations come to. I really love the dialogue, character introspection, and use of flashbacks in this story. I also love the fact that it literally took getting stuck together and completely helpless to force them into a conversation about feelings. One-shot.

Strong Enough - the Precursor in captivity, nobody knows exactly how to get Newt back to his old self, if that’s even possible. But Newt was always stubborn, and damn if Hermann would ever give up on him, or, worse yet, let him give up on himself. Emotional Hurt/Comfort/Angst. Hermann is going to get his husband back, even if he has to fight the entire Shatterdome, the alien possessing his love, and his own nightmares to do it. Another precursor!Newt fix-it, but we need all of those that we can get because I want my science husbands to end up happy. One-shot.

Taken Care Of - Newt helps out Hermann when he’s having a bad day. Hurt/Comfort. A short and fluffy slice of life story that follows the companionship of Newt and Hermann through a rough day. One-shot.

The Ghost and Dr. Priestly - Newt is pulling an all-nighter in the university library studying for a chemistry test, when he begins to hear strange sounds. Good news: it’s not a ghost. Bad news: he only finds out after giving his lab partner, Hermann, a mild concussion. Drama/Romance/Hurt/Comfort. Newt is an unbelievable idiot and poor Hermann suffers the consequences. Or, Hermann is concussed and is probably not thinking properly, but he still kisses Newt even after the daft man nearly brained him with a book. One-shot.

Tricks and Treats - Seven fics for the seven days of Gottbleed week (Oct. 5th-11 2015). Each story: 1. Is Gottbleed 2. Fulfills an OTP prompt from tumblr 3. Is newmann and 4. Is Halloween related. Trick or treating, costumes, haunted houses, ghosts, too much candy - and much more! Cute, funny, with a side of seriousness. Humor/Drama. Hermann and Newton make such a fun couple and these somewhat Halloween themed shorts perfectly show off their characters. Complete.

You and Your Dog Teeth - Desperate to find ends and solutions, Hermann wears himself out to exhaustion looking for answers, especially his already lame leg. Being around as his usual working late night companion, it’s up to Newt to help take Dr. Gottlieb home. What seemed entirely like a normal night only ends with two scientists realizing there’s a lot more between them than they thought. Angst/Humor. Such a fun story, this has a good balance between emotional tension and moments of hilarity that only the K-science boys can fully pull off. The awkward approach to romance in this story works very well for the characters and give an authentic feel to the whole thing. Two-shot, complete.

You Know I Love You: I Wrote It Down - Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb’s relationship goes back almost ten years. We know this because the paper trail goes that far back, too. Romance. Where do I begin with this story? It’s so well done and amazingly written. I can’t get enough of it. The idea to follow the relationship of Hermann and Newton through their paper trail was brilliant and well executed. The sheer nerdy romance is amazing. I don’t even care if it has smut in it, it’s still well worth the read. One-shot.

[sadbi-hours]

Here it is! Finally! My Stranger things’ Fanfic Rec list I’ve put off for months yooo! Anyway, I hope you find something to read and enjoy y’all :)

(Oh, the * at the front of the fic title means they are my favorites!)

* objects in the mirror by Snickfic  (Complete)

Jonathan has no f**king idea why Nancy and Steve gave him the Nikon. He doesn't know why they're so insistent on seeing the pictures he takes, either. 

why you should read it?:one reason: you can’t tell me that Jonathan doesn’t have a thing for taking pics during sexy times! you just can’t...and this fanfic is the reason why!

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars Series by  Drhair76 (WIP)

The many adventures of Steve, Jonathan and Nancy as they figure out their relationship. (feat. Robin, the kiddos and a heck ton of parental figures.)

why you should read it?: Because Steve/Nancy/Jonathan’s relationship is the cutest thing in this little series...but it’s also very real in a way that’s not supernatural. Just go read the series! Warning: It does get a little angsty in later parts!

Emotion Sickness by  Shypt  (WIP)

After the Battle of Starcourt, Steve struggles with the damages that the Russians left behind. In dealing with the aftermath, with the help of Robin and the Party, he uncovers a larger conspiracy at hand than just re-opening the Gate.

why you should read it?: Post s3 fic, where Robin and Steve are left with powers after the Russian’s experiments...and how they deal with that and the large conspiracy at behind why. 

* it's a risk, it's a gamble by  nondz (pinkjook) (Complete)

“I think we should pretend to date,” Robin says.

"What?" Steve answers.

why you should read it?: read this post and all my feelings will be revealed...or aka the emotionally sweet stoncy fic where Robin and Steve pretend to be each others beards... that might have made me weep silently a few times haha!

* Strike from the Records (it's not over 'till we're done) by SylphofScript (Complete)

If there’s one more thing Steve should have walked away with after so many incidents with the otherworldly, it’s to never trust the slow points.

They were only ever a blanket of lies, covering up a brewing storm.

Too bad Steve never learns.

why you should read it?: A long connective fic, where each character is common or not so common whamp trope! So beware, it gets super angsty in parts!

Have Happened by cortexikid (Complete)

"I overheard you. You were talking in your sleep.”

Steve's heart fluttered nervously.

“It was a little funny at first,” Nancy admitted, her tone a mix of teasing and apologetic, “you were moaning my name and I thought it’d be kinda funny if Mike accidentally overheard you having a sex dream about his sister—”

Steve couldn’t control the guffaw that escaped him.

“But then you said Jonathan’s name. Right after mine. All in the same breath.”

why you should read it?: You know, why not! I’ll admit, this story doesn’t entirely work for me anymore since the monster hunting trio had grown so far from their s1 characterizations, but it’s still a fic worth reading! So i am rec-ing it!

Slide Over Here by empathieves (Complete)

Nancy says Jonathan's name instead of Steve's two weeks after the Monster Hunting Incident. Steve says it instead of Nancy's name a month after. They don't talk about it until two months after, when it's become increasingly hard to ignore that Jonathan Byers has become a part of their sex life without even being in the room.

why you should read it?: Another post s1 fic, where Nancy and Steve slowly start bringing Jonathan’s name into their sex life...and how they eventually act on their desires! 

Searching For Your Heart by cali-chan (girls_are_weird) (Complete)

One of the world's biggest action movie superstars is coming to town, and every kid in Hawkins High is determined to win MTV's back-to-school scavenger hunt and get a face-to-face meeting with their idol. Mike and his friends are sure they've got this in the bag— until the contest throws a wrench in their plans and their only shot at winning is partnering up with Mike's longtime crush, El Hopper.

why you should read it?: I’ll admit I didn’t finish this story...I was a little too fluffy for my tastes, but It’s still a cute story worth reading!

Bad at Love (Can You Blame Me for Trying) by GeoffsEightGreatestMistakes (Complete)

He liked to think the world was done throwing him curveballs. He’s had to kill the Demogorgon, get his face punched in by a crazed stepbrother, listen to his drunk girlfriend tell him she doesn’t love him, and tell his best friend that he’s a piece of shit. He thought he had somehow managed to catch enough curveballs for a lifetime. He was wrong. The newest curveball may be the hardest one yet.

why you should read it?: It’s Stoncy and my fav romantic angst trope: (not so) unrequited love/Pining! 

* every night my mind is running around her by magneticwave (Complete)

In which Nancy gets married, Lucas gets hot, and Dustin gets to give lots of people advice that he’s only moderately qualified to dispense. 

why you should read it?: This was my first ever ST fanfic! I had to add it on principal...of it being absolutely amazing lol! 

* Ducks on the Pond by The Stephanois (ballantine) (Complete)

Steve Harrington knows two things to be true: the St. Louis Cardinals are the best baseball team in the world, and Nancy Wheeler is far too amazing for him to hog all to himself.

why you should read it?:  It’s one of my all time favorite stoncy fics, it combines two things I absolutely love into one story: Poly relationships and Baseball (I won a MVP trophy in HS for Pitching) ...and also uses the age old euphemism of bases for sex;) 

Across the Many Miles by FeoplePeel (Complete)

Nancy packed her bags and moved out West for Caltech. Jonathan’s East at NYU. Steve’s in the middle, Hawkins, Indiana and separated from the only people who understand by a seemingly endless stretch of land on each side. The story doesn't start there, but it doesn't end there, either.

why you should read it?: It’s actually been so long since I’ve read this one...and bruh is it long...so it’s definitely not a causal read, but it’s very very good read if you have the time for a long, long story. 

* let this pass you by CallicoKitten (Complete)

Steve’s not entirely sure at which point in his life he became Dustin Henderson’s personal chauffeur. Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. Maybe he can pinpoint the exact moment it happened and it honestly keeps him awake at night more than the demo-dogs or the Demogorgon or any of the insane shit that’s happened in Hawkins recently.

---

the kids drag steve on a trip to chicago to find El's sister, steve figures some shit out in the process

why you should read it?: It’s stoncy, the party, and a road trip all rolled into one...what more can you ask for haha?!

Talk Me Down by anomalation (Complete)

Nancy knows what she wants: Steve and Jonathan both, and maybe a fight. Steve knows he'd do anything for these dorky kids. Jonathan doesn't seem to want anything, but he'd also never ask them. And none of them are interested in forgiving Billy.

Featuring: some D&D, a Christmas party, a lot of relationship negotiating, no excuses for shitty behavior, and yet also the firm belief that nobody deserves abusive parents.

why you should read it?: Another really long, long fic that I completely enjoyed the one time I read it...and It had a nice and real redemption arc for Billy that I liked. 

* For the Three of Us by brokenpromisesandhope

5 times Jonathan loved Steve and Nancy and one time they loved him back.

why you should read it?: The summary pretty much says it all...

* decide on me (decide on us) by mjolnirbreaker (Complete)

Robin could very well die tonight in her stupid work uniform, and honestly she doesn’t want to dwell on it. So she’s going to make it her personal mission to figure out what’s up with Steve’s romantic life, and hopefully they don’t die before she solves the puzzle.

why you should read it?: It amazes me to this day...just how close to canon this author had gotten for Robin’s characterization and her relationship with Steve! 

* fly me to the moon by bleuboxes (Complete)

It's a Saturday night; he's watching one of those Star Wars movies with Robin - who won't shut up about how hot Leia looks.

Steve mentions something briefly about how he likes Han’s hair, rugged tough guy appearance, and general aloofness. Robin rolls her eyes, mutters an 'of course you do', then throws popcorn at his face.

why you should read it?:  Okay, I related way too well to this story! Han Solo was one of my bisexual awakens too...and I didn’t realize until years later lol! It’s also a sweet story about how Robin slowly helps Steve through his awakening like a real BFF should. 

God Help the Outcasts by willwrite4coffee (Complete)

Robin Buckley's always been a little different, but to her, that's never been a bad thing.

She's been on the outside looking in, an outcast, but she'd rather spend her evening with Sousa than at a kegger.

Being an outsider has never been a bad thing.

(also known as, why does no one know Robin in such a small town like Hawkins?)

why you should read it?: A cute little story about Robin and Steve’s friendship directly after the events of s3...and how the party and Nancy and Jonathan slowly begin to accept Robin into the fold. 

Oh, and anything by @trulyalpha! Here’s the Ao3 link!

[rhymeandraisin]

Conflicted about the Hey Arnold! Jungle Movie

Watched the movie the day after it premiered (I had work on black friday) and...I’m not as tearful as I thought I would be watching it.

*WARNING SPOILER FILLED”

*walks into mob*

This is a rant that has been fermenting since yesterday, so this is going to be a long one. This is mainly for my own sake. But if you are reading this, don’t write me off just yet, I’m honestly not bitter about how things turned out. I’m satisfied the Hey Arnold got a conclusion and would be 500000% ready for a season 6 if it ended up happening.

So let me just say how much I love the series growing up and today. Probably one of my *favorite* tv animations so far. And have been waiting for the Jungle Movie *FOREVER* - I was SO FUCKING HYPE when news finally broke about it.  I knew that this movie was not going to have the exact same feeling as if it was made in the early 2000s like intended. I was prepared for that.

I. just. wanted. the. MOVIE.

And there were moments I liked like a show of how intelligent Phoebe is (too cool for 6th grade), the hey arnold universe entering the 2000s and beepers going out of style. Helga’s family seemed to have lost their home because of Bob’s failing business and I’d be intrigued to explore that further. Mr. Simon’s and his partner were so cute together, I loved that this shit was confirmed. I laughed out loud when Brainy suddenly played his panflute after Helga kissed him. I loved the show of violence (as much as maybe Nick would allow). Again, I somewhat reasonably enjoyed the film and grateful that it finally came into fruition.

But... I thought the pacing for the movie was off - this story felt rushed and too many moments were predictable. Maybe there was a time constraint of 90 minutes. Okay. But if this movie was broken into 2 parts, if would be able to slow down and work on subtlety and the character development this series is known for. I thought the fact that this story was about Arnold missing/finding his parents was hamfisted and it didn’t take enough to make me feel sad about it, to understand why Arnold feels this way. If I was just being introduced to this series and don’t have the emotional background with Hey Arnold (or if I’m a fan that wants to be reintroduced to a world I haven’t seen in a while), that would have been awesome for the feelstrip. And shit could be guessed a mile away.

Really? The class trip is EXACTLY in San Lorenzo, rather than a more commercial area maybe several miles away? That’s not convenient at all. WHAT?1!1! “Eduardo” may not be who is says he is? After all these clues within the movie to show me he isn’t?! Man. That’s crazy.   Oh what, Arnold’s parents are just fine physically after essentially being in a coma for a decade? Yup. 

Okay. Fine. So yeah, we got the various ragtag teams, aka, Arnold’s classmates/boarding mates, and cool, we get to see some of their idiosyncrasies, but they didn’t feel like they were there other to be there. Which, cool, they could have been a just static IF there was more of a focus on just the “core” group (Arnold and his grandparents, Gerlad, Helga and maybe her parents, Phoebe). But it kinda felt like almost everyone(spare a handful Arnold, Grandpa, Grandma, etc.) were kinda...caricatures of their former selves. Seriously, Gerald felt like he was just.. existing. Like it really didn’t matter if he even went on this adventure spare some few catchphrases.

Arnold’s the “straightman” in the series, but many times, Gerald has to be the one to bring Arnold from his head in the clouds.Sometimes it is to Arnold’s own benefit, sometime’s it causes conflict (though of course they always come around to each other).  

But Gerald had like 10 lines in this movie and seemed deadass cool about his best friend thinking that traveling half the world into a jungle to find his parents that have been MIA for a decade was smart. Based on his established character, wouldn’t Gerald at least question whether or not that was a “good” idea?

The only slight concern he has was about Arnold keeping secrets about “Eduardo”, and this didn’t end up as a bigger fight? Come on now. That was probably the one time Gerald could have had a moment to shine. Instead, it felt like [insert supportive best friend here].

Also, SCREW the river pirate - his existence should have been secondary to conflicts with the topic of relationships and personal expectations. Like Arnold and Gerald’s friendship, really hit home how exasperated Helga about her own relationship with her family and angry at how oblivious Arnold is being to her feelings, have Arnold be sick of Helga making cracks at every opportunity (maybe Helga and Arnold have a fight with all the romantic tension), and have Arnold worried about getting his hopes up and wondering if all this was worth it to try to catch a dream.

To me, that feels like the deeper story and this was the chance to explore all of those feelings entangled in a jungle adventure. And we didn’t. There are a few other things like Olga’s behavior and some of the lines felt off. I also found it weird how Grandpa and Grandma didn’t have a big reunion with their lost son/daughter-in-law. These things are maybe minor - that may go a little in the realm of nitpicking.

But anyway, my ship has sailed and has bore its gifts. Yeah, we finally solved the mystery of Arnold’s parents. Shortman is Arnold’s confirmed last name. And that is great. But the way we got there, the emotional rollercoaster I was waiting to go on fell short of what I have expected for this series. I’m not being nitpicky honestly - I’d be chill with the pacing, animation and *some* predictability if that meant I would be WRECKED by the feels train. Which I wasn’t. Maybe just a personal thing. But I don’t think I made my expectations too out there. The film was...okay. And again, my nostalgia is satisfied. Again TOTALLY HERE FOR A SEASON 6. But, I just wish that could have exemplified what makes Hey Arnold so great.

/end rant (for now)

[kaellouis]

Finding SS (Finding that Special Sister/Someone) or How I Met that SS

This will be my first blog entry and surprisingly enough it’s going to be about my differing relationships with sisters inside the Church.

The thing is... I don’t really know where to start. Even before I became a disciple I already had romantic relationships, although I wouldn’t really consider serious, are still somehow relevant in my life. “But Michael, why are you writing about your relationships and inside the church in particular”? Well, I’m glad I asked, it’s because these sisters either changed me or (the term I’d rather choose) influenced me to become the person who I am today. As much as I would love to name these “lovelies” and “Felicias”, I can but I won’t, to of course preserve my dignity, instead I will call them with a thing that reminds me of them or... an alias will do. Enough with the pleasantries, let’s get this over with.

Before I start with the first sister, I’ll give you a spoiler to save your time in case you’re wondering if I did find that sister, well all I can say is that I’m single so I’m not currently dating any of them. I’ll vividly describe them and my relationship with them though so you could tell me if I blew up on one your ships.

Chapter 1: DOTA [Girl] aka Angelica

Part 1

I guess I could start here. Well, she is and was the first sister I fell for (and fell for really hard nonetheless). It was on the Inauguration Day of the Church when I first saw her. The service just ended and she was crying. We never really had the chance to talk much but I remembered why she cried, it was because she used to attend our former church and saw how it drifted and now it’s like she’s seeing what it used to be and that now she can finally be a part of it. Weeks after her Bible Studies, she got baptised and was discipled directly by my aunt (talk about the odds being in my favor). From what I remember, just a week after her baptism, I asked her to go on a Kingdom Date with me. Now for those who don’t belong in our Church, Kingdom Dates are what you would call “obligatory” Tinder-like double (or triple) dates wherein you get to know each other and supposedly attract each other to Christ, not to yourself (yeah right) and so that’s what we did, we went on a date (Remember this term as it would constantly appear).

We went to MOA, and yes, we were with another pair. I’m actually a very shy and rather awkward guy when it comes to sisters or girls that I like (especially on the first date). I’m sorry if you’re reading this Angelica and if I get some or most of the story wrong, it is from my own perspective after all and I tend to romanticize or exaggerate a little. Plus, no offence but since most of these scenes happened more than two years ago, I won’t be able to get all of it right, except for the important ones of course. Okay, enough of that, let’s get back. Yes, it was a cloudy day and my newly bought iPhone 4s from Lazada just arrived right before I head on out to meet with them. It was actually a pretty memorable day. The first picture on my 4s were of the bowling shoes that I wore when we went to the bowling alley at MOA. Yes, we played bowling and I suck. I got the lowest score among the four of us while she got the highest. It was a pretty bad way to start the date in terms of me trying to impress her and the worst part was, she tried to sympathize me, how lame could that possibly get? Anyways, we ate at Mang Inasal after (I can’t believe I remember this) and finally had the chance to properly introduce ourselves. Come to think of it, I haven’t described how she looks like yet (well... allow me to do just about that). I’m not really into physical appearance... “Oh God Michael, stop telling yourself that, you know it matters”. Well I’d be lying if I disagree with myself but I’d also be lying if that’s all that matters to me. I remember saying to a sister once (and yes, she is a part of this list) that what captures my heart is what captures my ear (heart-ht=ear, I’m a genius). True enough, she’s not what you would call a supermodel but she is indeed attractive and... cute? (I’m sorry for the term but she is rather short, thank God) She had a medium-short black hair, a rather oblong-like face with a distinguished chin. She closely resembles a mestiza just because her eyes aren’t chinky and she’s quite pale. But her eyes though, those hazel-brown iris when arrayed by sunlight just speaks how beautiful the soul of this woman is. Needless to say she’s one of those “lovelies” I introduced earlier and I’ll tell you why in a bit. Her choice of clothing is not what you would call “feminine” and I’m not really fond as to why that is. All I know is that she has a background of being with guys most of the time and that she’s taking Aeronautical Engineering (not to mention having ROTC as her NSTP) so why do I even bother to ask? Also, she wears glasses and I really dig that.

(I will be adding these “inside-parentheses” sentences a lot to tell you most of my thoughts while writing this. I’m actually more inclined to writing “formally” so I’d like to “formally” apologize if my style does not suit you (I suggest you go reading those jeje romcom confessionals or Reddit posts on Facebook or something). Rather than being “fun” and playful, I’d like to stick with this style, thank you very much but yeah. At this point, I can only say that this is going to be one hell of an entry.)

Oh, Angelica, I’d rather say your real name though but I won’t. Anyway, after our meal, we went to Sea Side and just walked back and forth looking for a place to chat (a customary thing after the “main” date activities). It was a rather cloudy day with a wee touch of sunshine so it wasn’t that hot while we were strolling. I’ve been on a lot of Kingdom Dates but the fact that I remember this one so clearly just speaks for itself. That stroll was so memorable because I got to know (what I would like to believe) the real M.. I mean Angelica (almost had me there). We talked about our individual dreams and aspirations and how we’d get there, we talked about our outlook and views about life and then we talked about God and I could remember how she dreams of having her own charity and outreach centre for the poor and orphaned, we even talked about things you would not necessarily talk about with someone you’re not really close to. But the one thing that I could never forget that day was when I asked her to define what love is (so cheesy), and as her gentle and sweet voice began to outspokenly utter the very same thing I had in mind, I could feel my heart pulsing and my pupils dilating (being that it was really rare for me to hear that definition).

“Love is a choice, not a feeling nor an emotion”

By now, that definition is what you would consider a cliche but during that time, it was something rather vague and indescribable and hearing that specific definition from her just sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps on the tip of my arm hair. It was something that captured my ear in turn captivating my heart making me see her as not just that flabby girl with glasses but an intricate and fascinating soul who’s more than what meets the eye. Of course it’s not just because of that. What a shallow excuse to base my sudden infatuation on an answer that just about anyone can say but no, it only started there. You see, there were two things that I learned that day. Aside from her being good (and I mean really good) at bowling or how beautiful she is (more on the inside, and I think we already established that), is that oh God... she’s just so beautiful (cause she is) and that we’re more alike than we think (or should I say “than I think”). I was pretty sure that we said that to each other on one occasion long after that day but I just couldn’t bring myself to remember why we though that. Maybe it was because of our same perspective in life or our weird fascination towards dark and creepy stuff or that we’re both gamers or maybe even our tendency to have weird mannerisms? (I’d actually like to talk more about that) I really don’t know why I would forget such an important detail. Anyways, fast forward to a couple of weeks and I get a rather exciting yet terrifying news, I was about to become a Bible Talk leader.

Part 2

Okay, I’ve always wanted to be a Bible Talk leader, well, not solely for the sake of being one but I dreamt of being more than just that. My Kingdom dream was and I still believe that it is, to become an Evangelist of the Kingdom of God.   Why, you ask? It’s because I want to be used by God in the most powerful way and what more noble call is there than to serve a vast number of God’s people by leading them? This was actually one of the things we talked about at Sea Side that day and I remember telling her that exact same reason why I wanted to be one. But the reason why I wanted to be a Bible Talk leader was because I needed to start from there in order to achieve my dream and after being a disciple for over a year that time, I would say I had a slow start compared to other disciples presently. Nevertheless, I was scared when my uncle told me that I was to become a Bible Talk leader. Not only will it be my first time to lead a group of my own and to actually be responsible for it but I’ll also get to lead it with someone (a partner would say), and by now you must have an idea who that someone is, yes, it’s a sister and not just any sister, it’s THE SISTER. In my head back then it was the best idea but if it were me right now, it was the worst idea ever. Why? Because later on this line, things will go downhill for me and this sister.

I was scared, scared of the fact that I have no idea of what I’ll be doing. All those what ifs and the likelihood of failing my duties kept roaming inside my head but at the same time I was glad that my uncle decided to appoint me and entrusted me with such a responsibility... [Part 2/4 Co-Leading Days and Back to Strangers] to be added

Coming Soon!

Chapter 2: Orange [Girl] aka Tala

Chapter 3: Bookmark [Girl] aka Maria

Food Sisters Arc (Highly Inappropriate Arc)

Chapter 4: Beer [Girl] aka Italia

Chapter 5: Siopao [Girl] aka Felicia

Chapter 6: Milktea [Girl] aka Michaela

Bonus: Outside Interests

Chapter 7: Miso [Girl] aka Shania

Chapter 8: Bracelet [Girl] aka Laura

Chapter 9: ???

Conclusion

Chapter 10: Regrets

Chapter 11: Lessons

Chapter 12: That SS Who Got Away

[standbymegauloader]

My Top Ten Favorite Characters

[Got tagged by @buruuhan] 

Actually i have a lot more favorite characters and find it hard for top 10 because i love all of them. But okay. I’ll try my best.

And since i followed @buruuhan to explain the reasons why i liked them, beware of the spoilers. 

Btw, sorry if this post is really, really long.

1. Mr. CEO aka Kuroto Dan from kamen Rider Ex-Aid 

Yeah, i know this is really, really, really crazy. But i love him! Actually my favorite character from Ex-Aid is only Pallad. Then i saw Kuroto’s photo where he smiling warmly and it’s the first time i ever fall to someone since first sight. I love his calm, mature, and polite personality. Even after his crazed and evil side revealed, i just realize that we actually not so different since both we have same crazy inner side (i loved seeing characters that depressed, possessed, having double personality, and experiencing mind torture, but not always). I also giving him nickname Mr. CEO (despite now he no longer Genm CEO) and almost calling him Mas CEO (CEO aniki) because he’s like an older brother figure for me. Then when he showed to really have a good heart and care about others (especially his creation, Poppy), i just loved him more. And everytime he do a warm smile, it’s a bless from God for me. Sorry, guys, if you hate Mr. CEO. But i will always love him. Thank you.

2. Parado/Pallad from Kamen Rider Ex-Aid

I giving him nickname Rado from the Japanese pronunciation of Pallad, Parado. At first, i thought Rado is a cold and mysterious person from the presscon photos. But i’m a bit surprised in episode 1 that Rado actually carefree and friendly person despite his villain status. For me, he is a funny and really enjoyable villain in Kamen Rider. He also has possessive side toward something or someone that gained his attention, like Emu (i love this type, but not always). Also it make me touched that despite Rado seems evil and heartless, he actually cared about his race, the Bugsters. I also likes his ‘comrade-more-like-buddy’ relationship with Graphite. And i would really love if Rado, Graphite and Mr. CEO become a canon villain trio since in the series, they parted into different side. 

3. Alain from Kamen Rider Ghost

At first, i don’t following Ghost, before i accidentally watch his transformation scene from episode 16 and it’s so gorgeous. I then search information about his character profile and decide to follow some episodes since the new episodes that time focuses on him. My nickname for him is Mas Al (nevermind, this just my strange habit to give my fave character unique nickname). I’m really sad when he loses his father that assassinated by his own brother and later Fumi-baba who teach him about humanity. I also love his friendship with Makoto.   

4. Tokoyami Fumikage from Boku no Hero Academia

I never thought that Tokoyami will be my favorite character from BnHA (since i love Bakugo but more into his relationship with Deku). I like his quiet and mysterious personality, also his quirk, Dark Shadow, and how he struggle to control it especially since the villain attack on camping incident. His hero name, Tsukuyomi, is awesome!  I giving him nickname Tokoya from Tokoyami. Darkness or shadow usually connected with anything evil or villainy, but Tokoya prove to us that have dark-related power doesn’t stop you from being a hero.

5. Dr. Doom from Marvel

The first time i know Dr. Doom is from the cartoon Super Hero Squad (actually when i’m child, i had watched the cartoon Fantastic Four but i can’t remember him). Funny fact that i love his funny performance in cartoon while in the comic he is more serious and threatening, but i still love the comic version, too. Dr. Doom is really intelligent and cool person who still uphold his pride and shows some honor as villain. He also have tragic past and really loves his mom that he will risk his soul to go to hell just to save her. Even Stan Lee stated that Dr. Doom is his favorite villain. I saw Dr. Doom as father figure (or maybe uncle figure) and sometimes imagine to meet him in his castle and ask him to teach me about any exact subjects (since i’m weak to exact like math). 

6. Tusk from Dobutsu Sentai Zyuohger

While i’m rarely pick favorite character in Super Sentai, but once i pick someone, i’m gonna really love them. Tusk is calm and cold-headed person, but he can be tsundere, too, and have bad habit to talk too honest and straight-forward that can hurt someone feelings. While i’m not a book-lover person, i still adore his reading book hobby. I like his clothing, especially one of his cloth (maybe the summer movie version) is exactly similar to my father one. I also love his interaction with Misao. I usually call him Tusk-kun.

7. Jugglus Juggler from Ultraman Orb

My nickname for him is Juggy (no, not Buggy from One Piece). Juggy is really interesting villain and maybe one of the best Ultraman villain for me. I like his monster form design and his katana weapon. Despite he’s not as handsome as my other fave character *cough*, he is still favorite in my heart. I love his rivalry with Gai and i feel pity about his past where he isn’t chosen by light. It’s really a blessing for me when he get redemption in the end of the Orb series and even teamed-up with Gai.  

8. Rogue Cheney from Fairy Tail

I love Rogue the same reason i love Tokoyami; they’re mysterious quiet, and have shadow power. While Rogue is the first that i liked before Tokoya. Rogue has little cute Exceed named Frosch and he is really adorable! Rogue is unique because he is partnered with Sting, who has light power. While they have polar opposite personality and power, they worked together really well and for me they’re the best Dragon Slayer in Fairy Tail. Unlike Tokoya, Rogue’s shadow has consciousness and it’s evil. It even takes control over Rogue in the guild tournament before pushed back by Gajeel. And i can’t stop say thank you to Hiiro Mashima that Rogue doesn’t ended up like his future self.  

9. Hajime Aikawa from Kamen Rider Blade

I call him Hajime-san. My most favorite from Blade series. A quiet and seemingly cold person who actually warm and nice toward people that he cared. His real identity as Joker Undead is really heartbreaking, especially the fact that in the final battle he can’t hold his beast side anymore. While i love Kenzaki and Hajime close friendship, it’s really sad when Kenzaki choose to become Joker Undead as well by overusing King Form and then never come back so Hajime can live with  the Kurihara family. T_T Despite that, his Wild Form is really cool! Everytime he uses that form, especially the bow (i’m in love with the bow), i can’t stop screaming so hyped like crazy people. 

10. Stinger and Naga Rei from Uchuu Sentai Kyuuranger

It’s really hard to choose one so i choose both. 

Actually not surprising since my favorite zodiac is Scorpio (don’t worry, i still love my zodiac, Taurus), but no, not his evil brother. My nickname for Stinger is Sting. His deep tone is cool for me. I love his close friendship and partnership with Champ (my zodiac and favorite zodiac is such a good combination for me). I’m really impressed with his debut performance in episode 3. His past also really sad and his brother action just make him become a more broken person. Good that Sting has the Kyuurangers as friends.

My nickname for him is Naga (i choose to call him Naga because it sounds familiar in Indonesian language). While i likes Sting’s deep tone, i also likes Naga’s monotonous voice. His curiosity about emotions is really adorable. Also his partnership with Balance is so cute. Somehow, i hope Sting and Naga both can become the focus in one episode, i want to see them interact each other. But since Sting now really close with Cha, i guess just keep praying.

Honorable mention for : Beelzebumon (Digimon Tamers), Terriermon (Digimon Tamers), Tsurugi Kamishiro (Kamen Rider Kabuto), Chase (Kamen Rider Drive), Hunter Bradley (Power Rangers Ninja Storm), Two Face (DC), etc.

Thanks for the tag, @buruuhan ^^

Maybe you want to try, @kingdomofmymind and @i-am-randomtrash00 ?

[angelinarecs]

Pacific Rim Recs - *Updated*

Hahahah, look at me reccing fanfics when I should be studying for the GRE. This is my life now... So, have one of my favorite platonic otps!

Organized by pairing (or gen) and then alphabetized by title. Summaries (which have been copied from their respective stories) and descriptions are provided. Notation at the end of the description indicates if a story is completed or a WIP.

Gen

Take Up Your Spade and Break Ground - Tendo Choi is a 911 dispatcher because it pays well and because he’s damn good at it. He doesn’t take the job with the expectation of finding a family – but sometimes the people who call end up up meaning a hell of a lot, and Tendo’s never been one to stay detached. Friendship/Family. Tendo POV, very well written and the plot is original. A great AU overall. I really loved following Tendo and his relationships to the Shatterdome people through his work at 911. One-shot.

Hermann, Newton Friendship

All the Colors of the Rainbow - The first thing Newt noticed about Hermann was that he was a neat freak. Well. Okay. Maybe not a neat freak. Maybe just an ordinarily-neat person who didn’t like kaiju guts in his work space. Sharing a lab was going to be a challenge … Drama. Am I reccing this because Newt is autistic? Yes, yes I am. Also, these drabbles do wonders at showing the day-to-day struggles of Newton and Hermann sharing a lab. One-shot.

Hush Now - Hermann is upset and Newt tries to cheer him up. It either goes horribly wrong or horribly right- he’s not sure. Hurt/Comfort. Hermann gets an unfortunate phone call from his father and Newt is there to pick up the pieces. Drabble length, but still sweet. One-shot.

Not Unwelcome - Set directly after the events of the movie. Hermann leaves the celebrations to give himself some space, away from the loud people clapping him on the back, away from the happily drunken crowd, and, maybe, a bit of space away from Newt. Naturally, the moment he disappears, Newt goes after him. Minor angst ensues. Friendship/Angst. Cute, fluffly, indulgent, everything you want out of a feel-good story. An enjoyable read. One-shot.

Tröstung - When Hermann is three years old, his mother gives him a stuffed lamb. Angst/Friendship. Following Hermann through the years in his interactions with his  comfort object (an adorable sheep names Oskar). The premise and structure of the story really does a nice job at providing snapshots in Hermann’s life and development as he grows into the brilliant scientist he is. The story also provides a brief insight into Hermann and Newt’s relationship. One-shot.

Hermann/Newton

A Hand That Hold No Weapon - On their way back to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Newton helps Gottlieb adjust to the after effects of drifting together. Drama/Hurt/Comfort. A much needed story after Hermann and Newton drift. Fun story, okay writing. One-shot.

A Little Bit of Solidarity Goes A Long Way - If the Kaiju were planning on depriving the two of them of sleep for long enough to kill them, well, they were certainly off to a good start. Hurt/Comfort/Romance. Cute, nerdy, realistic. An overall good read. One-shot. Story is deleted!

A Warm and Gentle Tug -  Hermann has a fear of having his blood drawn due to the fact that he always passes out or gets sick while it happens. This time around however, Hermann takes Newt along with him to his appointment to help ease him. Hurt/Comfort. Not the best writing here, but the relationship is fun. Mainly reccing because I have the exact same problem getting my blood drawn. One-shot.

Battered and Bruised - When Hermann comes to Newt’s defense, it doesn’t end well. Hurt/Comfort. Short and somewhat sweet. Newton and Hermann try to fix each other up after getting into a fight at a bar. One-shot.

Collision - A kiss gone wrong. Romance/Humor. Hermann and Newton being dorky and clumsy. Cute, but short, story. One-shot.

Dehydration Sensation - Hermann doesn’t handle heat well. Hurt/Comfort. Hermann doesn’t take care of himself in the middle of a heat wave and Newt once again has to pick up the pieces. Including obstinate, delirious, and dissaproving Hermann alongside exasperated Newton! One-shot.

Homeostasis - The K-science laboratory stands on its own plane of existence; life within its concrete walls runs in parallel to life in the bigger world of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Yet even here the laws of physics apply. Whenever Hermann’s body isn’t failing him, Newton’s mind is on the verge of breaking. Hurt/Comfort. The scientists have a rough day in the lab. I really enjoyed the contrast of the mental and physical given that each Hermann and Newt suffer from their own handicaps. Seeing the ailments as both a foil and a complement to each other was a very compelling look into their relationship. One-shot.

Incessant - Hermann’s physical limitations frustrate him to tears. Angst. Newton tries to help Hermann after a fall, Hermann is frustrated that his body won’t cooperate with anything. Poor Newt has to make this situation at least bearable for both of them. The selling points for this story is mostly domestic science boyfriends and an accurate depiction of the frustrations that come with being disabled/handicapped. One-shot.

Keep Your Mouth Shut, Keep Your Guard Up -  Hercules Hansen does not understand why Hermann won’t just tell him why he got in a fight with the new J-Tech. It’s obvious who came out worse for wear. Hurt/Comfort/Romance. Hermann just wants to protect Newton, they just keep getting into trouble. So wonderfully in character. I love these two. One-shot.

Laundry Day - “I must have almost popped the question a hundred times, but the timing never seemed…right, you know?” “And you decided nearly killing me in the middle of laundromat was the Platonic ideal of romance, did you?” Aka the one where Hermann launders Newt’s jacket and finds rather more than he bargained for. Hermann/Newt. Romance/Humor. This story is just so cute. I love how the everyday interaction between Newt and Hermann turns into such a touching/adorable moment. One-shot.

Mend and Make Safe -  Hermann and Newton find themselves sitting together outside of the medical bay together after the clock has been stopped and share a few moments saying very little, but somehow managing to say quite a bit at the same time. Oneshot, and mostly from Hermann’s POV. Friendship/Romance.Hermann and Newton always had something that defied definition. Their relationship in this story is neither here nor there except for the undeniable closeness they share. One-shot. Story is deleted!

Pride - Newmann oneshot. Newt takes Hermann on a date to his first LGBT parade- fluff through and through, except for a little reference to acephobia. Romance/Friendship. Am I reccing this entirely because Hermann is asexual? Yes, yes I am. Also features cute relationships, Newton coming up with a bunch of “queer” orientated pet names for Hermann, and some good points about sexuality. One-shot.

Roughed Up - The two scientists go out for drinks, and things go from bad to worse. Hurt/Comfort. Hermann tries to protect Newton, Newton has to patch him up. The writing isn’t the best and the plot is unoriginal, but it’s still a fun read. One-shot.

Taken Care Of - Newt helps out Hermann when he’s having a bad day. Hurt/Comfort. A short and fluffy slice of life story that follows the companionship of Newt and Hermann through a rough day. One-shot.

The Ghost and Dr. Priestly - Newt is pulling an all-nighter in the university library studying for a chemistry test, when he begins to hear strange sounds. Good news: it’s not a ghost. Bad news: he only finds out after giving his lab partner, Hermann, a mild concussion. Drama/Romance/Hurt/Comfort. Newt is an unbelievable idiot and poor Hermann suffers the consequences. Or, Hermann is concussed and is probably not thinking properly, but he still kisses Newt even after the daft man nearly brained him with a book. One-shot.

Tricks and Treats - Seven fics for the seven days of Gottbleed week (Oct. 5th-11 2015). Each story: 1. Is Gottbleed 2. Fulfills an OTP prompt from tumblr 3. Is newmann and 4. Is Halloween related. Trick or treating, costumes, haunted houses, ghosts, too much candy - and much more! Humor/Drama. Cute, funny, with a side of seriousness. Hermann and Newton make such a fun couple and these somewhat Halloween themed shorts perfectly show off their characters. Complete.

You and Your Dog Teeth - Desperate to find ends and solutions, Hermann wears himself out to exhaustion looking for answers, especially his already lame leg. Being around as his usual working late night companion, it’s up to Newt to help take Dr. Gottlieb home. What seemed entirely like a normal night only ends with two scientists realizing there’s a lot more between them than they thought. Angst/Humor. Such a fun story, this has a good balance between emotional tension and moments of hilarity that only the K-science boys can fully pull off. The awkward approach to romance in this story works very well for the characters and give an authentic feel to the whole thing. Two-shot, complete.

You Know I Love You: I Wrote It Down - Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb’s relationship goes back almost ten years. We know this because the paper trail goes that far back, too. Romance. Where do I begin with this story? It’s so well done and amazingly written. I can’t get enough of it. The idea to follow the relationship of Hermann and Newton through their paper trail was brilliant and well executed. The sheer nerdy romance is amazing. I don’t even care if it has smut in it, it’s still well worth the read. One-shot.