#Like everyone assumes he's absolutely fine during all of the game cause he's like ':)' mr joke funny man! ben man

[rainbyte]

Rotating them like a marshmallow in a microwave

[babytortie]

unexpected

unexpected. ❘ stanley uris x reader.

a/n: this was requested by anon - love ur recent stanley fic! was wondering if you’re cool with doing a smut for him? (aged up of course!) if you’re comfortable, could you make the reader more dominant in bed/stanley being more submissive? perhaps and enemies to lovers, hate sex type. other than that, any plot line is just fine.

* hope this lives up to your expectations! tyty for requesting this one.

summary: in which stanley and reader argue worse than richie runs his trashmouth. after burning some pent-up tension one day, the two take a turn for the better and become more than just enemies.

warnings: s m u t. some fluff at end. <3

contains: enemies to lovers, degrading, hair tugging, harsh kisses w/ slight blood, mild orgasm denial, praises, rough and unprotected sex.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are 18+ in this one-shot.

~ 3.4k words.

you twirled a strand of hair between your fingers, a magazine placed on your lap, and beverly's head rested on your shoulder, looking at the pages with you.

it was the summer and the group was all back home on break from college. the loser's wanted to hang out and all eight of you were at bill's house right now. on various couch cushions and seats in the living room. his parents were away for the night and the seven brought clothes to stay at his just in case it got a bit late.

"oh, do you think he's hotter? or him?" bev asked, leaning in closer to point at the page. it was some magazine about the hottest actors of the year, achievement wise. though some hot men that were in it was currently grabbing beverly's, well, and your attention too. you glanced down at the page, slightly comparing both actors and voiced, "definitely him."

the guys overheard this and rolled their eyes. they were taking turns playing on bill’s newest nintendo sixty-four. on the floor below you, sat the four a few feet away, this was because they wanted to be scooted closer to the television. even though it was perfectly fine to put their backs against the couch. typical males.

you worried for their eyesight, especially richie’s, since right now he and bill were battling on some game you didn’t know the name of while being too close to the screen. eddie was on a chair next to the couch and sat by you, wheezing as he watched how close of a tie it was between them. mike and stanley were sitting on the floor with them on either side, cheering on who they wanted to win.

this was while ben sat on the other side of bev and read some book that just came out earlier this week. a quarter of ben’s focus was on his hand. it was resting on beverly’s thigh and drawing small, mindless shapes in content. the two were newly dating after pinning on each other for forever.

"i think we should play would you rather!" mike turned his head and suggested after hearing your conversation with the red head. bill had just died on the game causing richie to jump up and cheer while blowing out the other three's ear drums.

ben closed his book and sat up straighter. he took a glimpse over at beverly to see what her decision was. eddie hesitantly agreed when you and bev nodded. “s-sure!” bill got up and pulled stan with him.

one weekend about four years ago when the denbrough’s were home and bill had the group of losers over, they noticed how you all squished on the seats in the living room. surprising bill with an extra couch a month after this, they were able to successfully squeeze it into the room and push it against the other wall.

the four others started to pile on the other couch a few feet away from the three of you and eddie who still sat on the single chair next to you. beverly pulled her head up and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “be nice to stanley please.”

knowing it wasn’t funny, looking at her anyway with a confused expression, you lied. "stanley who?" she immediately turned her neck back at you, probably receiving some whiplash and raised an eyebrow to challenge you.

"i'm serious y/n." beverly laughed dryly. you sighed and replied a short agreeable response. “alright bev, as long as he doesn’t start it, then i won’t do anything.” after, you zipped your lips and threw an imaginary lock in the direction behind eddie.

she smiled at you in thanks and then you two turned towards the room, noticing everyone was ready. “b-being as it w-was mike’s id-dea, he can g-go first.” bill announced while glancing around the room.

mike nodded and turned to the one who still wore coke-bottle glasses years later. “richie, would you rather never wear underwear again or never wear socks again?”

ben and bill stifled a laugh, already knowing what his response was going to be. eddie rolled his eyes as richie answered, “underwear since i go commando sometimes anyway.”

you put your finger in your mouth, pretending that you were about to throw up and mike shook his head at richie. you turned to your right and left, seeing eddie’s and beverly’s disgusted faces.

”okay, eddie spaghetti.” he paused. the seven of you looked at eds, who had already put his hand over his face in annoyance. you and beverly laughed when the shorter boy muttered, “here we go.” richie smirked and continued. “would you rather, accidently send a nude to your boss or your parents? and by parents i mean your mom and i.”

he rolled his eyes, “absolutely not richie. my mom would never get with you and i would die of embarrassment if it were sonia. she’d probably kidnap and lock me in my old room, never to be seen again. probably boss.”

eddie turned to you after the group cackled of laughter, especially richie at the response he was given. the two of you currently shared a science class together in college and the asthmatic based some of his question off of this. "alright y/n, would u rather hook up with one of football players or with mr. jackson down at the science lab?”

you placed the palm of your hand on your cheek, into a thinking position and replied. "well, i kind of answered that question at last weekend’s party?" beverly jumped up at this and gasped. "no way! with which one?"

"i don’t kiss and tell." you smirked. the others gagged at that. “ah okay, i see. that’s where you went when we couldn’t find you again.” ben commented. stanley had been a bit quiet during the conversation and decided to speak up. adding to this, while looking at you pointedly. "you kind of just did tell and admitted at the fact that you sucked off some guy.”

you weren’t usually the type to get flustered during conversations like this. instead owning it as if you weren’t bothered. this helped you avoid any teasing or any richie’s usual jokes. "at least i'm getting some!" muttering in stanley’s direction.

"i swear if you guys argue for one more minute, i'm going to shoot myself. go y/n. it’s your turn." mike spoke up in between you and stanley, trying to get the game rolling again.

you smiled, feeling a little eager at the next question. you looked at the curly haired sitting across the room from you. the others groaned knowing you were about to pick on him in some kind of way. "uris. for the rest of your sex life, would you rather be the top or bottom?”

he blinked in your direction, probably wanting to smack you for the inappropriate question. “depends, is it with anyone specific?” you looked down sheepishly, then back up. is this a trick question? i mean sometimes you did find stanley a little bit too attractive. “do you want it to be?” deciding to quip back with equal attitude, you asked.

the group looked between the two of you while waiting for a response from uris. the tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. letting out a scoff in return, he looked at you in the eyes and glared. speaking in a low tone, you almost didn’t hear him. "uh, i don’t know.”

"what do you mean? you don’t know?" richie snickered.

bill, beverly, ben, and mike started to get the picture together. eddie figured it out just a second before them, when you burst out giggling. before you could stop from helping yourself, you let out a harsh jab. “oh shit, that explains why you’re always so uptight! maybe you should unbutton some of that polo? might help so you aren’t choking on all that innocence."

that only made matters worse, the last pin in place to set him off. stanley angrily spewed some words under his breath. only catching your name, you figured it was most likely something badly about you. quickly getting up from his spot, his curls bounced up and down when he rushed upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

the others watched him disappear from the top step sadly and looked back at you with the look. you had the decency to look a bit guilty, an awkward grimace on your face. "uh, why are you all looking at me like that?"

eddie leaned over to elbow you and gave his puppy dog eyes in pleading. you sighed but started getting up anyway. you laced your hands together in front of your stomach, nerves a bit jittery at being in a room alone with him. "well, to state my case we were all having that kind of discussion! if he wasn't such a prude..." you trailed off.

ben got up, patting your shoulder. "we all know this but stanley is sensitive about these kinds of things. go apologize while we're on break now and we’ll get some drinks going."

you nodded and turned back around, starting towards the stairs and walked up slowly. richie decided this was a good time to be the loud trashmouth that he is and shouted. "it was nice knowing you, y/n!"

shaking your head, you reached the last step and rounded the corner. hearing a slap noise, you assumed tozier was probably getting hit on the back of his head. a moment later a "beep beep" came from mike and you let out a small laugh in relief that they had your back against the loud mouth.

strolling down the hallway, you spotted the second guest bedroom door closed and decided to knock on it. stan heard a faint knock and got up from the bed to open it, seeing y/n he groaned. "oh, it's just you."

you ignored his disappointed comment and bit your lip. looking up and down to observe his new look. he must have just changed. wearing a regular light blue t-shirt and grey sweats. you shook your head and looked up to see his grin, catching you in the act of checking him out.

rolling your eyes in response, like he usually did and walking around him, you closed the bedroom door shut after stepping inside. you grabbed a handful of stanley’s shirt and pushed him against the back of the door. more like he allowed you to do this but you were definitely in control of the situation.

you leaned in towards him and swiped the back of your thumb over his bottom lip to test his reaction. when he didn’t swat your hand away, you went on the tip of your toes and brushed his lips against yours.

stanley gasped into your mouth and deciding to use this as an opportunity, you placed the tip of your tongue on the bottom of his lip. right before you could actually do this, he apparently read your mind and left his mouth open purposely. you wanted to slap him.

nonetheless, he allowed you total access. surprising him on purpose, you shoved your tongue in his mouth. wishfully thinking about how you wanted to somehow choke him with it. he grabbed both sides of your shoulders and scooted you closer, clashing his teeth with yours. not wanting to let up the control he tried to grab, you grasped the back of his neck tightly and felt light-headed. sensing wetness pooling between your thighs from enjoying this too much, you cursed to yourself.

a small moan escaped out from your lips and as if it was his fault, you nipped his bottom lip. you tried to quickly get rid the thought of ever giving into stanley uris. he hissed sharply, tasting slight blood from the nick. uris mumbled. "bitch."

this angered you more. pulling away from his lips, you put on a fake smile. moving in a bit closer to mess with the collar of his shirt, you tugged on it roughly, your face still close with his. "ready to not be a virgin anymore, virgin?" you retorted.

he smirked, "as long as i'm not one anymore, i don't care who it's with. even someone like you." he emphasized in a nasty tone. you pulled the shirt up over his head and uttered out. "shut the hell up." stan hummed happily after his shirt was pulled up to see that you were glaring from his reply. the two of you heard loud steps down the hall by the stairs, so you placed a finger over his mouth.

after a moment later, you heard what you assumed was someone in the bathroom, closing door the shut. letting out a breath not realizing you were holding it, stanley took this as a distraction to slip your finger into his mouth. you gasped, eyes widening, "what the hell!"

pulling your hand back, you spoke and stared in his eyes to let him know just how serious you were. "here's how it's going to go if you want to get laid, uris. we're doing this my way. don't play around anymore and definitely don’t talk too much so i can picture literally anyone other than you."

stanley looked into your eyes, searching for any hints of a lie from your remark. when he saw your eyes looking clearly back into his, he sighed in defeat. not letting it show, he grinned nastily. ”fine by me, y/l/n.”

"now, bird-boy are you sure you can handle this?" you stated more than questioned, an eyebrow quirked up. you held onto the top of his sweats with an eyebrow quirked up. he clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth together so hard he hoped they wouldn't crack. "fuck you y/n."

“no, that’s what i’ll be doing to you.” disagreeing and putting your palm over him. “what do we have here?” you asked out loud, in general all snarky. he let out an annoyed noise when he felt you tease fingertips across his hard length. so, in retaliation, he grabbed your wrist and pushed the palm of your hand harder onto him.

you gasped at how big he was. you tried to cover the surprise, a ‘tsk, tsk’ falling from your lips. not letting go quickly enough stanley noticed this and smirked at you. frowning, you murmured. "ever heard of patience? such a bad boy."

uris let out a small, quiet groan from feeling your hands come off of him. which was something you caught and figured having teased him enough, you put your hands around the waistband of his pants. tugging them off along with his boxers. afterwards you pushed him down onto the bed and before he could do anything, you quickly made work of your shirt. pulling it over your head and unclipping your bra as well.

he put a hand through his curls, smoothing them out from the fall when he fell into the comforter. watching you, he could feel himself hardening painfully. he felt needy and done with the wait. pulling your wrist closer he pleaded. “come on, hurry. please y/n.”

”fine, you’ve waited long enough like a good little boy.” stanley flushed at your approving compliment and tried to hide it, looking down. you saw this when you moved to sit on top of him and smiled. grabbing his chin lightly, you tilted his head back up. while looking into his light brown eyes, you held his wrist and tugged his hand so it laid over on top your breast.

stanley’s breath hitched and you moved inwards toward his neck. your warm breath was touching his skin, feeling cheeks reddening more. uris felt, palmed, and squeezed a little as you sucked small hickeys on his neck. not to dark but enough to be just visible if one were close up.

kissing his cheek and tilting back up, he dropped his hand and you happened to see his cheeks and neck all red. the quick switch of his attitude still shocked you to the core. ”are you sorry for calling me a bad name, baby?” he ignored your comment like a brat and kissed the inside of your wrist. you melted a little in his touch before going back to the task at hand.

you slowly let out of his grasp to unbuckle the belt and unbutton your shorts. you shimmied out of them and wanting to hurry up, you just moved your panties to the side and out of the way. pumping him a few times, you started to align him to your center. before you moved down onto him, you placed your hand on his cheeks in a sweet gesture and silently asked for reassurance. he nodded and you slowly slid down into him, both of you letting out small moans. “feel so good.” you muttered.

stilled for a moment, you let yourself adjust to his length and him to the feel. your hips went back up and you moved in forward, kissing him again. it slowly turned into a sloppy make out when you slammed your hips back down again. his tongue shoved in your mouth when you gasped in pleasure. after you found a rhythm you babbled on and on about how stanley was doing so good for you.

"i need you to put your fingers on my clit and rub." you said softly but still in a demanding tone. directing his hand exactly where you wanted it, you nodded when he looked at you again. his fingers moved quickly, drawing out an orgasm that you felt nearing.

lacing your fingers through his curly hair. stanley let out a loud moan as you tugged the locks. "now for the sake of you being able to cum, i'm going to ask again. are you sorry my baby boy?" he really didn't want to have to see the satisfactory in your face if he apologized. though, after a small moment went by, he realized that you weren't joking.

he let out a small, almost incoherent whine. pleading you with his big hazel eyes, "i-i'm sorry y/n. so sorry, c-can i cum please?" stanley would have never thought he'd be the submissive type but he found himself melting at your praises, quite easily. he liked letting you have some control and for once being able to sit back.

you smirked at him and let go. patting his cheek in almost a mocking way. "awe such a good boy but i think you can wait another minute." his eyes widened and you placed your hands back up onto his chest, steadying your balance before moving your hips back up and down repeatedly and harshly against his. he moaned when you kept going back down on his cock. feeling his pelvis right up against your very sensitive bundle of nerves, you squirmed.

stanley smirked, feeling you tighten around him. knowing you were close was a relief. constantly feeling so good on him made him hard and straining inside of you. tears prickling in the back of his eyes and wanting to cum so badly was difficult. uris felt not wanting to disobey you was more important as he patiently waited. pushing harder on your clit is what caused you to unravel, tightening completely around him. "oh fuck! s-such a good boy. cum with me now."

he came so hard, the hardest ever. which wasn't much to go off on, from the obvious conversation before. feeling euphoria, you rode through your high and his, milking every last drop of cum. you started to feel shaky. before your hips gave out, you placed one last kiss on his slightly darkening hickey.

after you fell on the bed next to him, he pulled you close. you turned your head in his embrace, eyes widening. you knew without a doubt they looked like they were probably about to fall out of the sockets. assuming even bigger eyes then richie's usual ones due to his glasses.

uris pursed his lips, kissing the top of your forehead before he could overthink it. “we need to talk. y/n/n." you tried to open your mouth, but closed it again. stanley used your nickname, he has never used it before. you were in disbelief, frozen, and unable to say a word. he rescued you and spoke up again. "you know i don't hate you, right?"

you swallowed feeling like a brick was falling from your shoulders and nodded. "i don't hate you either stan. this is not what i was expecting though to make up." you giggled causing him to chime in. the awkwardness was finally settled but you paused and asked nervously. "do you think we're worse than eddie and richie?"

he shook his head, not even needing to think on it and responded sweetly. "no, we're okay now and i have a feeling that richie will tease eddie even after we're all dead."

you laughed together once more, agreeing with stan’s opinion which would probably be a proven fact one day. "that's true. poor eddie!" snuggling closer into his back and finally, truly feeling at peace.

© babytortie on tumblr + wattpad.

[geeky-politics-46]

The Asgardian Candidate

Loki/The West Wing FanFiction Crossover

Chapter 6 - “A Stranger To The Rescue”

The White House was still in a state of shell shock.

They had suffered two massive blows to their re-election campaign back to back at the hands of Mr. Loki Laufeyson.

The pounding they got in the 2nd debate was one thing. They had one more debate left. They could recover from that, even if it was bad.

What had essentially crippled the campaign nearly beyond salvage was something that had been completely unthinkable, until now. A sitting vice president announcing he was leaving the ticket he was currently on, for the administration he was currently serving in, to run as his challenger’s VP.

The tickets were now Laufeyson/Hoynes & Bartlet/?

After the announcement the president’s poll numbers plummeted, & campaign donors had started to bail. Everyone understood why. They had to find a candidate to run as Bartlet’s vice president. It couldn’t be just a replacement for Hoynes, they had to be better than Hoynes.

If they were going to make any sort of rebound in the polls they had to find the human personification of America itself. A patriot. Someone who could have been born on the 4th of July & made from apple pie.

It was Leo who had stepped forward with the only suggestion. He said he knew a guy who might fit that bill. That he knew him from when he served in the military, well he didn’t know him exactly, but he knew of him. After a few calls, & maybe even a bit of pleading on Leo’s part, the man had agreed to meet the president & discuss joining the ticket.

He too was a novice in politics, like Loki, but if he was half as good as he seemed on paper it wouldn’t matter.

Jed was studying the man’s records & FBI file when Leo opened the door to announce that their potential VP had arrived.

Leo’s assistant led him in & then stood behind the man utterly transfixed. “Thank you Margaret.” Leo said holding the door open for her to exit, but to no avail. “Thank you Margaret… Margaret! Thank you.” Having finally gotten her attention, Margaret quickly turned & left somewhat embarrassed at her own behavior.

Both Jed & Leo could understand why she had been so hypnotized. The man standing before them appeared perfect.

He was tall & broad shouldered, with well defined muscles. A firm yet subtlety squared off jaw, vivid blue eyes, & dirty blonde hair perfectly combed into place. He looked like Disney prince did a stint as a G.I. Joe, & then come to life.

He snapped to attention & saluted as the president rose from his seat. “It’s an honor Mr. President, sir.”

“At ease solider.” Jed responded chuckling, slightly startled by his salute. “Err… actually it’s captain isn’t it?”

The man relaxed & dropped his salute as he responded, “Yes sir, Captain Steve Rogers. If I may speak freely sir, having already been told why I’m meeting with you today. As an officer of the U.S. military I have sworn, as you have, to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign & domestic. Frankly sir, after watching him & hearing his views on how he plans to run this country if elected, I do believe Loki to be a threat to the US & the constitution if he were to be elected as president. I don’t like bullies, no matter where they’re from. Therefore it is with honor & duty that I accept the offer to serve as your running mate.”

Jed & Leo both exhaled deeply for the first time in several days, feeling the muscles in their necks immediately relax.

Jed smiled eyeing the man curiously. Could he feel it too? He had assumed most people younger than Leo & himself couldn’t feel the air of the great dictator that Loki gave off. How could they? They had never seen it in person before, or heard the tails of war while watching the flashes of pained memory in their parent’s eyes. Sure there were movies & museums, but real first hand memories of the last World War & those who could share them were all but completely gone now. This man seemed almost out of his time. As if he escaped from an era long gone, but remained untouched himself by the hands time. A memento of what America could be at it’s best.

Captain Rogers did have a couple caveats of his own to offer in negotiation with President Bartlet. He wanted to serve with honor, & he wanted to make sure he was able to execute the office in the best way he could if they won. “I do have a couple requests to make of you sir, if I am to serve as your vice president. The first is that I want us to be completely honest with each other, & if we disagree we hash it out in private together. The second is that I want to be the last person in the room on major decisions. If I’m going to serve as your right hand then I want to really participate.”

Bartlet was slightly taken aback at the younger man’s forwardness & candor. It was a far cry from John Hoynes, who had at times roiled against Jed’s decisions. Even going so far as to on occasion leak a disagreement to the press when he was really in a snit with him. Leo had always attributed John’s ill behavior to Jed coming from behind in the primaries to steal the nomination away from him. However in just a few sentences Steve Rogers proved he had more heart & backbone than John Hoynes had managed in nearly 5 years.

It Jed’s mind it wasn’t even a question. He knew he could trust this man. He felt it in his bones. He still dutifully glanced toward Leo awaiting his silent approval. Leo simply gave a single nod. They agreed to Captain Roger’s requests without hesitation.

President Bartlet then gratefully held out his hand towards the captain, “Well I guess I shouldn’t get too used to calling you Captain Rogers then. By the time I remember I’ll have to start calling you Vice President Elect Rogers instead.”

The two men shook hands & sealed their political fates to each other. If they won then they won together, if they lost then they lost together.

Captain Rogers smiled brightly & gave a slight nod as he clutched the President’s hand “Thank you, sir. You can just call me Steve. I’m with you until the end of the line.”

Leo smirked & jokingly added “See, it wasn’t all that hard finding someone.” For the first time in a long time, lately Leo had found himself tempted to retreat to alcohol. He hadn’t told Jed, but this campaign had him more rattled the longer it went on & Captain Roger’s words seemed to confirm that Leo wasn’t the only one who sensed something very wrong in Loki. To comfort his thoughts he had found himself wanting to escape the campaign problems in the bottom of an empty bottle. After all old habits die hard, & it had been a habit during the first campaign. Now he stood, his hands in his pockets, holding one of his AA chips. Thanking god (or whoever really controlled everything) for Captain Rogers. Without even knowing it, Cap had already protected one person from an enemy. Even if it was just an internal one.

The ticket was now officially sealed. It was set as Bartlet/Rogers.

—————

Perhaps he had underestimated the Midgardian this entire time. Perhaps Bartlet really was a foe worth his time & effort. It made him almost respect the man a little.

He held the front page of The New York Times in his left hand, right hand resting under his chin, studying the headline & image before him. Brow furrowed, causing his gleaming horned crown to shift slightly higher into his raven hairline.

How quaint.

There standing with him arm around the president was Captain Steve Rogers. Both men smiling & waving to the crowd where they announced their new ticket. The papers had already started calling him “Captain America”. Fawning over him as if he was some sort comic book superhero. Some of them had even gone so far as to draw him into one themselves, complete with a stars & stripes jumpsuit & matching shield.

Loki pictured a battle between “Captain America” in full costume & himself in full Asgardian armor. Fine tailored suit morphing into black & green leather with ornate gold plating, & his gold horned crown transforming into his full elaborate helmet. While comical on one hand, Loki was quite a showman. Perhaps in the event of a recount he could conjure up that outfit for the captain & solve the election that way instead. Leaving Bartlet & Hoynes to fight it out amongst themselves.

To Loki’s ears he even spoke like some sort of cartoon as well. All sugar & sweet, yes sir & yes ma’am. He questioned whether this Captain Rogers was even capable of telling a lie. Although the American’s had already had one president who used that schtick before. It was still something the crowd seemed to be eating up. Loki almost wished he’d thought of it himself, but what fun would that be for him really? The god of mischief & lies having to play nice. His nose crinkled & upper lip snarled as his thoughts soured at the very suggestion.

For every devious act or trick Loki had implemented, the Bartlet campaign seemed to be trying to one up him in a the wholesome department. Perhaps it was time to simply match wit for wit. Maybe Loki’s silver tounge had finally met it’s match. His lips pressed into a tight line, ever so slightly pulling his bottom lip in with his teeth as he thought.

The third debate was open topic, questions could come from any area. He figured that would allow him to fair better than the first debate, no need to try to memorize budget statistics or job numbers. He could just as easily pluck a number from someone else’s head. He was sure the intrusion into their mind would go unnoticed if he only did it when he absolutely needed to.

The president though would also surely fair better on the topic of defense this time around. His team would be going through Loki’s responses from the last debate as he sat there. This debate they would be on much more even footing.

He would not hold anything back this time, now that he knew Bartlet could clearly play the game just as well as he could. He would actually have to prepare & study for this debate. As much as he loved reading the idea of spending hours reading about Midgardian matters made him wince.

Loki quickly stood up from the desk. He had to act on his plan quickly before his distaste for spending time with mortals had a chance to outweigh the importance of the debate. He really wanted to win the presidency, otherwise he would never stoop this low.

He walked briskly to the door of his office, yanking the door open so hard it hit the wall with a deep thud. All of Loki’s campaign staffers froze at the sound & a thick silence fell over the entire room. Eyes wide on many of their faces. Loki had them terrified of him.

He resisted the urge to giggle with delight at the terrored faces he had evoked. Instead he calmly & quietly took 2 steps forward into the large open office space. He scanned their faces & inhaled deeply. His mind searching for who could best fulfill his need.

He found 3 faces. A male & 2 females. All rather mousey & plain. Their desks each piled high with binders & newspapers. Computer monitors cluttered with open windows. Yes, these 3 should work nicely.

“You, you, & you.” Loki pointed to each of the 3 as he began his verbal command, voice deep & thick with passioned energy. “In my office. Bring everything you have on Bartlet’s policy positions, & whatever we’ve said mine are. You have 5 minutes! Don’t test my patience.”

Loki immediately turned & strode back into his office,leaving any questions about his order hanging in their air. Eyes quickly darting from person to person around the room in both confusion & curiosity. They only snapped back to the present & returned to their work as they heard the door to Loki’s office slam shut behind him. Time seemed to suddenly unfreeze as staffers began talking again & phones started ringing.

Back in his office Loki positioned himself behind his desk. He had made it this far. He could practically see himself behind the resolute desk in the oval office. It was no golden throne of Asgard, but god he wanted it. His birthright was to rule, & he fully intended to.

[rivalsforlife]

AAA thank you for the commentary and also for the links for the art + the piece with kay giving miles a hug, i hadn't seem them!! miles really really needed that hug :C since you said you like doing commentary, i'm so sorry, but can i ask for phoenix and miles talking in the hospital in chapter 7? reading the commentary about The Scene made me rush to read it again right after haha take your time though, i get these are long to do and all!! thank you again!

Anonymous said:

Wait hold on I would purchase this DVD Director’s Cut Commentary on your fics in heartbeat! I only just realized that you were doing them. Sorry to be another catch up game request and sorry that it’s a somewhat long passage, but could you comment on the scene where Phoenix and Miles reconcile in Miles’ hospital room in chapter 8?

Got two asks for this one so I guess I have to do it haha! (And I’m assuming the first anon meant chapter 8 instead of chapter 7 haha.)

and also @\ second anon request I am so glad to hear that there’s a market for my 150 hour long DVD that’s me reading my fics and then rambling about them repetitively the whole time, maybe I can drop out of school after all! (jokesjokes)

Anyways!! the scene!! under the cut!!

I totally lied I have a few things to talk about first... this is probably one of the scenes I fiddled around the most with at the last minutes before publishing, because like I said in my commentary of The Scene at the end of chapter 5, it got a much bigger reaction than I was anticipating and then I was side-eyeing the rest of this fic to make sure it worked out haha. Particularly this scene, since it’s sort of the resolution to the end of chapter 5, so I wanted it to work out alright without it seeming like it just... wrote off everything that happened with chapter 5.

Okay I’ll start now I promise.

Phoenix’s heart pounded in his chest to a degree he thought might have something to do with a health condition. Maybe it was in the pamphlets. Kay reached around him, knocked on the door, and gave him a wink before darting away. How disrespectful.

meddlesome thief daughter is determined to help get her totally-not-a-dad a boyfriend. Also Phoenix is way more intimidated by the thought of an Honest Emotional Conversation than he is at running into a burning building which I think is in character, honestly.

“Come in,” said Edgeworth’s muffled voice, so Phoenix gave himself one moment to take a deep breath and then entered the room.

Edgeworth sat in the bed by the window, looking at his burnt and bent out-of-shape Steel Samurai figurine perched on the windowsill. At least it had been recovered; Edgeworth was fond of that one. Edgeworth himself was definitely worse for wear, with his hands bandaged and gripping tightly to his inner arms, and his skin a sickly pale colour where it wasn’t bruised, but he was awake and alive and the sight was nearly breathtaking.

hhghgh okay confession time! Up until I was about halfway through the fic the big moments in chapter 7 went down a little differently - originally this was going to involve, like, Miles getting kidnapped by the mafia group he was taking down and then Phoenix would go in and break him out of there, but then I ended up taking it out because I wasn’t really Vibing with it and it just seemed too dramatic and implausible... but honestly what I went with was probably equally dramatic and implausible, so no points there for me.

I mean I kinda regret burning down the prosecutor’s office. If I had more time to prepare/edit or I guess if I could do one thing in this fic differently, I’d probably rewrite part of this resolution so it was more emotionally oriented because I suck at action. plus like the health-related consequences of this whole misadventure kind of got glossed over, in true ace attorney fashion, but regardless. 

This was absolutely caused by me not being totally sure what hurt/comfort meant (which chapters 7 and 8 were based on as a theme) and figuring to go with the safer option of more physical hurt/comfort than more emotional hurt/comfort; although some of that got in there at the end.

And one of my edits was definitely recovering the Steel Samurai figurine because that was the most critical thing in Miles’ office imo. Or at least from Miles’ perspective.

Edgeworth looked over as Phoenix entered, and his entire body sagged in relief. “Phoenix,” he breathed.

“Hey.” Awkwardly sticking his hands in his pockets, Phoenix walked over and sat on the chair beside his bed. He couldn’t help but think about the last time he and Edgeworth had been in a hospital room together, their positions reversed. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” said Edgeworth, and his voice was still rough. “I—I don’t… you’re alive.”

“‘Course I am.”

“Gumshoe and Kay told me everything, you know.” A menacing look flashed through his eyes. “What you did.”

Phoenix braced himself.

Gumshoe and Kay probably were there right when Miles woke up, a little before Phoenix did, I suppose -- or at least around when he was being rescued, maybe? I didn’t think this timeline through super well since Miles was in worse condition... ignore that! Anyways they definitely told Miles that Phoenix was alive, but considering Miles presumably witnessed him fall through a burning building, he can’t fully believe it until he sees Phoenix upright and walking around like nothing’s wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?” he hissed, and even though some of the danger was lessened when his voice was so shaky, Phoenix still recoiled. “You could have died, easily! You defied direct police orders and — and all — all logic and reason and for what?”

“To save you. Of course.”

“I would have been fine!”

Risking his life for someone is just your average Tuesday for Phoenix. But it shook up Miles a lot, and all of his anger is completely coming from a place of concern, but Miles being Miles doesn’t really know how to express emotions outside of angry glaring and in this case angry yelling.

“Would you?” Phoenix challenged, and Edgeworth’s glare redoubled. “Look, Edgeworth, I wasn’t going to die, not while I still had something to live for —”

“How is that going to stop you?” Edgeworth demanded. “People can have the world to live for and they still die! By your logic, I-I wasn’t enough for m-my —” He turned away and broke off into a coughing fit.

The realization struck Phoenix like a physical blow. “No, I didn’t mean to suggest —”

The “I wasn’t going to die, not while I had something to live for” is a reference to Phoenix’s line at the end of AA4; “People don't die that easily, really. ... As long as they've got something worth living for.” Which is a nice sentiment, really, and might work for Mr. Indestructible over here, but is not how things actually work, which Miles points out.

What he was going to say (if it’s not obvious) is “By your logic, I wasn’t enough for my father,” because you know Gregory would have done anything to stay with his son, but a bullet to the heart is a bullet to the heart. There’s not much “having something to live for” can do about that.

“Something to live for isn’t going to save you!” continued Edgeworth, once he recovered. “Why can’t you realize that? It’s not going to stop a bullet, it’s not going to save you from a fall, you — how much longer are you going to keep relying on your luck like this?! Do you — do you even realize how much danger you keep putting yourself in?”

His choice of examples here are what I want to talk about - “not going to stop a bullet” refers to both Gregory’s murder and also the last time he saw Phoenix’s life in danger, during SOJ when the guards burst in and are pretty much pointing guns at their heads -- I’d be surprised if Miles wasn’t terrified watching that, even if he wouldn’t admit it after everything calmed down. “not going to save you from a fall” refers both to this most recent falling through a burning building but ALSO Phoenix falling through the burning bridge in Bridge to the Turnabout, another instance where Phoenix almost died and Miles was involved.

And the events of SOJ where Phoenix walks in and risks his life for a kid, while something that Miles understands he would do since that’s the kind of guy Phoenix is, still were reckless and if Phoenix didn’t have protagonist immunity who knows if he would have made it through Khura’in, which is the most recent traumatic event prior to this fic.

Phoenix held up his hands. “Edgeworth, it’s okay.”

“No! No it’s not! Y-You… Do you have a death wish? Why would you ever…” He trailed off, digging his fingers into his arms and looking away.

Miles is just kind of... panicking a lot as the full weight of the situation they were just in catches up with him and just how close he was to losing Phoenix. He was going to say something like “Why would you ever do that for me?” but that’s edging a little too close to the whole issue of the rejected confession; he’s not someone particularly special to Phoenix, at least not in the way Miles would like, and they parted on awkward terms, so why would Phoenix still go out of his way to save him like this?

“It’s fine,” Phoenix tried to soothe. “We’re alive. If I hadn’t gone in there, who knows if they would have gotten to you in time, or if you hadn’t gotten that mask on when you did… Look, I don’t want to just sit back and watch you die —”

“I don’t want you dead, either! You imbecile! You…” He took in a sharp, shaky inhale. “You could have died, and it would have been my fault, do you think I want that? Do you think I could live with myself if that had happened? And not just now, you keep throwing yourself into reckless situation after reckless situation and one day you’ll pay the price for it a-and god, Wright, no one would ever want that, do you even consider the effect that would have o-on Trucy, on everyone, on…”

He turned his head to the side to hide it better behind his bandaged hand, but Phoenix could still see the tears dripping down his face. Phoenix hadn’t seen him cry since — since they were kids, probably. His eyes had been a little watery after the DL-6 incident was resolved, but Phoenix hadn’t actually seen anything. Even when he came to the Agency after prosecuting cases where the public details alone made Phoenix’s stomach turn, and he’d whisper about the horrors with his face in his hands long after they were sure Trucy was asleep, he hadn’t cried.

“Miles,” Phoenix whispered, horrified, reaching out for his shaking shoulder.

Edgeworth flinched away, curling in on himself. “Please don’t touch me.”

Miles... pretty much has a full-on breakdown here because he’s been through a LOT in the past few days. He finally worked up the courage to confess to Phoenix and was rejected, and then probably spent a lot of time worrying about how this could change their friendship, and if Phoenix would be less comfortable around him from now on; plus in general the hurt of being rejected plus the humiliation of having read the situation so wrong (so he thinks). Then the office was attacked which was horribly traumatic on his own, and dredged up some DL-6 trauma for him too with the building shaking like it did. Then Phoenix comes running in to rescue him, which Miles doesn’t understand, because they had parted on awkward terms and he doesn’t think Phoenix would want to go rescuing him after that; at the same time this is the sort of thing Phoenix would do because he’s so dedicated to the people he cares about and Miles loves that about him; and then he thought for a while there that Phoenix had fallen and died trying to save Miles, making it indirectly Miles’ fault that he died, and now he’s lost the man he loves and he’s lost Trucy’s father and someone who was such a loyal friend to so many people -- but he’s okay! and acting like nothing happened! plus it’s the first time Miles has seen him since his attempted  confession and it’s still a little raw for him.

so he’s a complete wreck emotionally... which is why he’s crying. I don’t see Miles as the type of person to cry a lot and ESPECIALLY not in front of other people. That’s probably very embarrassing for him, too, not to mention he’s crying in front of Phoenix, who’s trying to comfort him, which just makes everything worse.

Also Phoenix calling Miles by his first name and kind of reaching out to hold him reaaaally does not help.

“Alright.” Phoenix reluctantly lowered his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Phoenix corrected, and Edgeworth peeked out from between his arms with reddened eyes to glare at him. “I know that sounds like a half-assed apology. But I’m not going to apologize for saving your life. I’m never going to stand by and let you or anyone else die if I can stop it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Another instance of Miles not knowing how to process feelings and being kind of angry-cat-like about it.

“Your life has more value than you know,” Edgeworth mumbled. “I wish you’d stop treating it so cheaply.”

“I’m not more important than anyone else.”

“You are to me.” Edgeworth sighed. “Forget I said anything. I know it isn’t going to stop you from doing the exact same idiotic thing in the future.”

HERE is a subtle callback to, once again, their conversation during the dinner in chapter 4 (which I’m referencing a lot back then since I guess it’s the scene where everyone’s repressing their emotions):

Phoenix immediately shook his head. “Hey, no, you were off doing research, planning to change the judicial system. I’m not more important than that.”

“You…” Edgeworth looked away and grabbed his arm. “... That doesn’t change the fact that I could have done more.”

He was going to say “You are to me”, like he did in this scene, but changed it at the last moment because it was too sappy and a little too close to his true feelings. 

Miles now, going through an emotional breakdown, has less control over what he’s saying so it just sort of slips out -- but he regrets saying it since, well, Phoenix doesn’t feel the same way about him, he wouldn’t want to hear that, it’s not going to change anything.

“I don’t think it’s idiotic for me to try and save someone I care about from death,” Phoenix argued, punctuating his sentence with a cough.

“You shouldn’t do that for me.”

“Of course I would risk my life for you. You’re… you…” The words got stuck somewhere before his tongue.

Edgeworth’s eyes squeezed shut as if in pain, and he turned his back to Phoenix. “Please just… give me space, Wright.”

What Phoenix is trying to do is express how important Miles is to him in a romantic sort of way, but he still hasn’t fully acknowledged everything yet to do so, there’s a whole psyche-lock left, so he can’t quite get it out.

Miles perceives this as Phoenix trying to comfort him and say that he is important -- and he does know that he is important in some way to Phoenix -- but trying to do it in a way that can’t be mistaken as romantically-intended, once again reminding Miles of “hey remember when you tried to confess to him and it backfired so horribly”, so he wants space. Both for now because he’s dealing with a lot of other trauma, but also to take some time and get over Phoenix so he isn’t reminded of this and they can go back to being friends like before.

“No,” said Phoenix, and when Edgeworth tensed, “I-I mean, yes, I’ll go in a minute. I just… I wanted to talk to you about, uh, before all this. I-I know it’s terrible timing.”

Edgeworth was silent. Phoenix feared he was being ignored. “It is indeed terrible timing,” he said, eventually, his voice nearly unrecognizable. “I thought I said I didn’t want to talk about this again.”

Miles is anticipating the “You’re a great guy and a great friend, I just don’t feel the same way, but I’m sure you’ll make someone happy someday” conversation, which, while not a bad thing in most situations, is really not what Miles wants to deal with right now! Avoiding it was partially the reason he left so quickly at the end of chapter 5, and now he’s cornered in his hospital bed and does not want to have this conversation... ever, really, but especially not right now.

Basically Phoenix’s timing sucks, don’t have an emotionally charged conversation about why you rejected your crush after a traumatic incident irl, this is fiction though and I’m doing it for the drama.

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t ever have to talk about this with me again if you don’t want to.” Phoenix ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I just want to apologize, a-and if I don’t do it now, I’m not sure I’ll have the courage to do it again.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Wright,” said Edgeworth, to the wall.

one of the first drafts of Phoenix’s part had “You don’t ever have to talk to me again if you don’t want to” which was imo too far; Miles wouldn’t completely abandon Phoenix over this, and also, if Miles wanted to cut off all contact with Phoenix he’d probably just do it. Phoenix is just promising he won’t bring up the conversation again.

Miles thinks he’s about to apologize for not returning Miles’ feelings, which of course isn’t something Phoenix would have to apologize for.

“Yeah, I do.” Phoenix took a deep breath and summoned more courage than he ever had before. “I… I lied to you. When you asked me how I felt.”

Edgeworth turned his head back to him. Phoenix willed himself to not look away, or crack some cheap joke. Just kidding, Edgeworth! I enjoy toying with your emotions! That wouldn’t go over well.

Miles would be well within his rights to cut off all contact with Phoenix if Phoenix DID say “Oh by the way I do love you! haha just kidding! why are you crying.”

And these two being so dedicated to The Truth is why Phoenix focuses the apology more around “I’m sorry that I lied to you” -- also why he was so bothered by the comment Miles made about his honesty throughout chapter 6 and 7.

Edgeworth’s face crossed at least three equally incomprehensible emotions before he asked, “Why?”

The incomprehensible emotions are probably some variation on “am I dead???”

“I…” Phoenix sighed, and admitted, “I don’t know.”

“It would make more sense if it were the other way around,” said Edgeworth, and his expression closed off. “I’m — I’m not misunderstanding, am I?”

Instead of asking if he was misunderstanding, the first draft of this had Miles ask if Phoenix was trying to spare his feelings... but I think Miles would know Phoenix well enough to know that Phoenix would never do that.

Phoenix still hasn’t worked through his Issues and hasn’t outright said that he does love Miles, just that he lied about how he felt - sneaky way to get past the psyche-locks. 

“No, you’re not,” Phoenix insisted, leaning forward. “I didn’t mean what I said back the other day, when I said I didn’t feel the same. I-I just panicked, I think. I knew, already, how you felt, but I never thought you’d say it. I never knew exactly how to read you, then suddenly you’re baring your heart to me, and it was too much.” He realized how close he was to Miles, and started getting out of his chair. “I-It’s a stupid reason. I’m sorry. I-I’ll just go, you don’t have to deal with me right now —”

“Wait.” Edgeworth grabbed his wrist before he could go too far. “Please.”

His grip was gentle but still firm. Phoenix sat back down with superhuman effort.

Phoenix finally realizes that dumping heavy emotions on Miles right now might not be the best idea! But Miles starts processing what’s actually going on and demands answers Right Now. And he initiates physical contact again. I usually try to have it go about when writing these things that if someone refuses physical contact (like Miles does before) they’re the one to initiate it again, just so that no boundaries are broken here.

Edgeworth was silent for a long time. “Always turning things around on me, aren’t you,” he said eventually, in a hoarse whisper.

This line was a fairly last-minute addition! Just imagine it being said in kind of a... exasperated-fond tone of a man who is very much in love but also very tired. “I understand you always want to turn things around on me but did you really have to do it this way, Phoenix,”

Phoenix ducked his head. “I never meant to hurt you. I — I care about you a lot, Miles, and I’m sorry if I screwed things up because I got scared. I want the same thing you do, I just don’t know if I can anymore, it’s been so long and…” He let out some self-deprecating laughter. “Isn’t that stupid? I’m such a coward. I know you, I know you wouldn’t hurt me, not on purpose. But I just can’t…”

So Phoenix hasn’t been in a serious relationship since the Dahlia-Iris debacle in college, which by this point, is fifteen years. And that was traumatizing enough he’s not sure he knows how to navigate a romantic relationship anymore or be vulnerable in that sort of way again.

That “not on purpose” caveat is there because Miles has hurt Phoenix pretty badly before -- not intending to, of course, because I don’t think he thought anyone would really care after the “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death” note, but he still did anyways.

And since I usually like to plan out what characters are saying when I have them trail off like that... Phoenix’s intention was to say something along the lines of how he can’t get over what happened or whatever this emotional block is that won’t let him express his romantic feelings freely, but can’t find the words for it.

“Don’t you dare put yourself down in front of me.” Edgeworth reached out, slowly, to guide Phoenix’s head upward to meet his eyes. “I… I always thought you were the more… emotional, of the two of us. I’d assumed you weren’t saying anything, before, to give me time to process how I felt. I thought you were just waiting for me to speak up.”

Miles kind of degrades Phoenix often in court but, at least after Turnabout Goodbyes, I was always under the impression it’s just courtroom banter/not letting Phoenix think he’d go easy on him. Judging by the big emotional speeches about Phoenix’s brilliance he tends to give afterwards, there’s no way he actually thinks Phoenix is stupid.

And the rest of that is pretty much giving the reader who has not read these extensive DVD commentaries more insight into Miles’ perspective throughout the fic!

“Guess we got it the other way around,” said Phoenix with a faint laugh. “I-I mean, I used to be that kind of person. Everyone always knew how I felt all the time. It didn’t really… well, you can’t survive long like that.” He placed his free hand over his heart. “I-I’ve got locks, you know that? Black ones. I don’t know for sure why, but I can guess.”

Edgeworth scowled. “Dahlia?”

“Not just her,” said Phoenix. “She — and Iris — they’re not the only ones, you know, who — who I thought betrayed me.”

Edgeworth released Phoenix’s wrist. “Me,” he realized. “You thought I’d betray your trust again.”

Pretty much summary of Phoenix talking about how he used to be the “Feenie” in Turnabout Memories and then the events of the games slamdunked him into the emotional repression zone. ... to put it simply.

And Miles’ hurt at Phoenix pointing out that Miles had betrayed him in the past (referring to the Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death thing, primarily, because Phoenix describes it as a betrayal himself in the games) is less hurt that Phoenix doesn’t trust him and more guilt/anger at himself for having hurt Phoenix in the past to the point it could be comparable with what Dahlia and Iris did.

(Phoenix interprets it as the former, though, in the next paragraph.)

“I know you wouldn’t,” Phoenix clarified, because the brief flicker of hurt across Edgeworth’s face was unbearable. “I trust you to be a good person, and I trust you as my friend, but I… Miles, you left before, and it hurt. A-And let’s be honest, you’ve always been the smarter of the two of us, you’re better looking, you — you’re always fighting for justice, now, for truth, you’re honestly incredible. Why wouldn’t you want to leave me?”

“I trust you to be a good person, and I trust you as my friend, but I don’t trust you not to leave again” is the full version of that sentence, but Phoenix stopped himself because it seemed too cruel to say out loud.

And Phoenix using the word “incredible” here is also a very tiny subtle callback to Miles calling Phoenix incredible back during the original confession in chapter 5!

... I realized looking back on it that in my editing of that confession I accidentally cut out the part where Miles calls Phoenix intelligent during that conversation, shit, and then Phoenix claims that Miles called him intelligent when arguing back, which doesn’t make any sense anymore. Originally when Miles says “surely you figured it out already?” it was a little later and he said something like “surely you figured it out already, with your brilliant mind” but that was overkill so I cut it out but forgot to cut out the intelligence comment! fun how you realize these things so long after publishing! anyways. once more, please ignore that.

THE POINT IS that the things they find attractive about each other tend to be similar because they have very similar values and goals; their fight for truth and justice being a core one.

“I don’t know where you’ve gotten these impressions of me, but you’re wrong,” said Edgeworth, his gaze locking onto Phoenix like he was chasing down a contradiction. “You can be very stupid, when you’re risking your life running into a collapsing building, for instance — but you’re one of the smartest men I know, smarter in ways I’ll never be. I wouldn’t be anywhere on my path to truth if you weren’t there to guide me. And…” A faint sheen of pink covered his face. “I find you extremely handsome. I’m not sure if you know this.”

Phoenix was sure he was turning red. “I don’t know why you would.”

“Any thought suggesting that you’re not good enough for me is wrong,” Edgeworth asserted. “I think it’s the other way around. You’re — you’re brave, you’re good, you’re always so strong despite everything… I admire that about you.”

look I love morosexual miles jokes as much as anyone else, but Phoenix is actually wickedly smart, albeit in an unconventional sort of way -- he’s a very flexible thinker and that can lead him to reach conclusions that Miles didn’t even consider. I found that interesting with investigations that sometimes Miles got so caught up in his logic and assumptions that he’d get stuck, and it was only emulating Phoenix’s thinking that got him out of it.

(Which is why I usually get a little irritated at some characterizations of Phoenix where he’s just completely oblivious in contrast to extremely intelligent Miles... anyways.)

And if my twitter feed is any indication, lots of people find Phoenix Wright attractive... so Miles isn’t alone there.

“But that’s just it, I’m not,” Phoenix argued. “I-I can’t be that. I’m always pretending to be strong, always smiling, for you, for Maya and Pearls, for Trucy… I think I forgot to be anything else. I didn’t want you to need me and then realize I wasn’t up to the task, and leave. Because…” He let out a bit of faint laughter, but there was no joy in it. “That’s always what happens. People need me, then they don’t, and they leave for better things. I wouldn’t ever want to stop them, but the more attached I get, the more it hurts when they leave me behind.”

oof this paragraph was a chore and a half to write because I had to kind of cut to the core of Phoenix’s characterization bits that cause the conflict of this fic, mainly the abandonment areas -- which was why I needed pretty much everyone Phoenix cares about to not be around as much as he’d like, which feels like he’s being left behind, as everyone fulfills their destiny and is happy and he’s just... the same.

which is like a total mood for me approaching the end of my years in university and having no idea what I’m doing with my life while most of my friends are gonna do great things -- but I also think it’s a fairly universal human experience. no one really knows what they’re doing.

But especially for Phoenix because his career was defined by saving a specific person -- in this case Miles, who’s past needing saving and is going on to save other people. Then there was taking care of Maya and Pearls, but Maya is a proper adult now and Pearl is also an adult and they’re living their own independent lives in Kurain Village without needing him. Then Trucy kept him together throughout disbarment but even she’s grown up and leaving to live her own life now. And like I said in the other asks Phoenix tends to fall apart without someone to take care of, and now suddenly he has no one to look after and is questioning his purpose if he’s not taking care of or trying to save someone.

And since so much of his personality is defined by that he kind of gets tired and gets in the mindset of “if they’re just going to leave anyway, why even bother getting attached?” which could have gotten really unhealthy if he’d allowed it to fester for much longer; luckily it got caught and dealt with fairly early with the help of off-screen therapy after this.

Edgeworth was silent for a moment, as if weighing his words. “You don’t have to be strong for me anymore,” he said. “I needed you when I was younger, but… I don’t need you now. That’s not why I’m still here.” 

Phoenix’s breath caught somewhere deep in his chest.

“I just… want you, Phoenix Wright, because I’ve known you for so long, and I’ve loved every part of you I’ve seen.” The lines around his eyes and mouth softened. “I won’t run from the rest. And I don’t want to leave your side, not for long, not for good, whether that’s as a friend or as something else. I am willing to try if you are.”

I really like these lines!! ... though I think I fiddled with the last paragraph a little too much and now it’s a bit too long and it throws off the rhythm a bit but oh well. is rhythm even the right word to use here? idk. 

But basically it’s about their relationship being much healthier now that Miles isn’t dependent on Phoenix for the sake of his own mental health -- he likes the person Phoenix is, even outside of all that Phoenix did for him, and even if Phoenix hadn’t done anything for him, he’d still love Phoenix. (... He’d probably be dead, too, and everything Phoenix did definitely helped his feelings develop, but regardless.)

And it’s also kind of what Phoenix needs to hear right now, because hey, Phoenix, people don’t stick around because you help them out; they stick around because they like you! And this applies to pretty much everyone Phoenix cares about (which Trucy says in her letter) but Miles is speaking on his feelings specifically since this is the Romance moment.

And the last line kind of enforces a “even if this relationship doesn’t work out, I still don’t want to leave your side, even if we’re only friends,” plus Miles comes down a bit from his dramatic all-or-nothing “I WANT TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU” speech and to a more reasonable “I’m willing to put effort and time into making this relationship romantic if you are as well”.

so maybe the rejection did him some good after all.

“Miles,” Phoenix whispered.

“If you want me…” He took a deep breath and rested one hand, palm up, beside Phoenix. “If you want me, I am here. And even if you don’t, I’m not going anywhere. It’s as I said before. I’m done running away.”

We don’t get into Miles’ head so I don’t get to explore his thoughts as much as I do Phoenix’s (which is why so much of these DVD commentaries are just What Is Going On With Miles Edgeworth since (I hope!) I conveyed Phoenix’s thoughts sufficiently in the actual fic. But this conversation is probably taking a lot out of him emotionally, too. He has no idea what he’s doing. I tried to convey that a bit with his actions with him thinking things over carefully and taking deep breaths to kind of brace himself into making a move.

And his words are once again affirming the “even if you don’t want to be romantically involved with me, I’ll still be by your side as a friend”, because their relationship is so important to both of them, they wouldn’t want anything coming in between that.

Phoenix extended his hand, brushing his fingertips against Miles’ palm. The sensation was the only thing that made him sure this wasn’t a dream.

“I’ve been chasing after you my whole life,” said Phoenix, scarcely able to breathe. “I don’t know what to do if I’ve caught up.”

shameless title reference. I struggled so much with this title I was lying in bed the last day of June like “screw it, the catch-up game??? Sounds catchy enough???” and threw it on there. This is my approach to most of my titles. Either I have a title in my head from the outset (Deep Dark Secrets, Fifty Flights of Stairs) or I make it up at the last possible minute.

“Well, you have.” Miles’ hand shifted, but it was only to thread their fingers together, tight and reassuring. “I don’t know either. We’ll figure it out together, as we do with everything else.”

Phoenix lifted his head to meet those familiar grey eyes, mirroring the fear and anticipation and the giddy, almost child-like excitement in his own, and he smiled. “Yeah. I think I can try that.”

neither of them know what they’re doing but together they can accomplish anything!! is the vibe I wanted to go with. Honestly the way that they can work together to do anything they put their minds to and create miracles in court is one of the things I love so much about this ship. They complement each other so well and have so much faith and trust in each other that they make the perfect duo. Like two halves of the same whole. about the closest thing you can get to actual soulmates.

Anyways that’s the scene! Hope both you anons enjoyed it haha. This is one of the big emotional conflict resolution scenes (the other being Trucy’s letter later) so it’s got lots of stuff to talk about, so thank you!!

[toonqueen]

Duckvember 2020

--Game--

Just some OC stuff. Move along. Nothing to read here. NO BETA and NO WRITING GOOD DESCS JUST GOING WHERE THIS ENERGY DRINK IS TAKING ME.

PG-13 for the violence. Murder mentions. I’m sure there is a curse word. Fun on a bun stuff.

P.S. IT WAS BETAed THANK YOU @cataradical ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE ONE PART I WAS STUCK AT nnnngh

-------

“Now that I’ve got your attention, let's play a little game,” the canine antagonist’s voice drifted from the speakers, followed by loud, maniacal cackling. There was no sight of him, but the room wasn’t empty.

Faustina curtly stood up from the ground where she had fallen deep into the pit. She was less concerned about the menacing, dangerous voice as she was her clothes getting dirty. Although she was angry, it was more at her sister than this weirdo who’d trapped them here.

“‘Mr. Canis is so nice in the Nega-verse. I just wanted to see if his gas station was anything like the one in the Middle-verse. Your version, he’s such a kind old man, so… what if he’s an absolute grump here? How funny would that be… teehee.’” Faustina repeated words said to her earlier in a mocking tone. She looked around the room as she brushed off her skirt; a small cell with a single glass wall. “Yes, what a great adventure, /sis/,” Faustina growled, pounding on the glass angrily, “find out our good friend /here/ is a serial killer. /Fun times/.”

Faustina glanced up, spotting a TV screen mounted above the glass. Playing was footage of her sister, Felicity, hurrying down a hallway, surrounded by large, halved circular saw blades whirring in and out and along the walls. Faustina’s dark-haired twin was swiftly moving, twisting, dancing around them.

“/I am not a killer/!” the voice shrieked from the speakers, offended, disgusted, “I am merely a tool that creates the puzzles. It is Fate that decides who lives and who dies, not me.”

“Oh, /boy/. This is going to be a /hoot/ then. Fate. With this gal. /Wow/. Why not run me through your death maze too?” Faustina stifled her giggling.

“Because you are going to be the prize for when--or if--she gets through my CORRIDOR OF KARMA and the PRECIPICE OF SERENDIPITY,” the villain bellowed, causing the speakers to glitch a little.

Faustina had completely lost it, cackling until her stomach hurt and she doubled forward, banging a fist against the glass wall. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her face sore from smiling so much. “Oh, you sad, poor little--if you /only knew/ her! Oh, man, where’s my phone?” She managed to collect herself, wiping away tears and sniffing a few times. A moment to gigglesnort before deep breath. “I’m going to have to record your reaction for later, Mister I Let Fate Decide, but I’m sure as soon as she gets through your stupid game, you’ll change your tune. I bet you made it so everyone loses no matter how hard they try, right? You’re gonna be so butthurt when you realize she’s gonna get through all that.” Unable to restrain herself any longer, Faustina started laughing and snorting again, arms thrown around her belly.

“Laugh now, fool. I hope you see her get torn apart. Behold! She just now entered the GAUNTLET OF THE GILDED-- wait, where did she go?” the canine gasped and choked.

Faustina looked back up at the TV as it started flipping through channels, all showing different chambers and mazes of torture and misery. Every single one of them… empty. Just as another channel turned on, Faustina heard a light shuffling coming from the ceiling above her head.

A second later, a panel on the ceiling right outside the cell room fell to the ground. Felicity climbed out until she was standing, face to face, with her sister on the opposite side of the glass.

Faustina huffed, hands on her hips. “About time. That took you a little longer than I thought,” Faustina complained to her “hero”.

“I would have gotten here sooner, but I felt obligated to read the name plaques he put up in each room. Masquerade of Misfortune was my favorite,” Felicity replied as she placed her hands on where the glass wall met a metal wall.

“How-- /How did you get in here!/ The vents don’t--don’t even lead here!” the voice hissed and snarled from the speakers.

“Well, they do now,” Faustina said on behalf of her sister. Felicity ignored them, tugging and prying along the strip of metal before peeling it loose. A line of bolts popped free.

“No matter! That was cheating! You’ve forfeited the game, and now you will see your sister suffer a gruesome fate,” the voice guffawed sinisterly. Liquid started pouring from the cell’s ceiling, right next to Faustina.

The trapped twin sniffed, and instantly knew what it was. “Gasoline? Really? Gonna set me on fire, huh? This is just getting more and more hilarious. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea. We need to do this every week. Man, if this jerk only /knew/,” she chuckled, casually pressing a hand up against the nozzle and stopping the flow of gasoline.

“Now, Felicity, was it? How ironic your name means “fortune”. Maybe you’ll be lucky by persuading me to let your sister live. Get on your knees, and /beg/ for her life,” their captor ordered, his tone much more disturbing and ruthless.

Felicity gave him the cold shoulder. “Heat would expand the glass, and then you can crawl out through this seam,” she explained to Faustina. “The bolts are out. You’ll be fine.”

“Are you not listening to me?” the voice raged. “You need to convince me to free your sister! I decide her fate!”

“Cool, cool, all right, hellfire. Got it.” Faustina put her fingers in front of her and started to move them like she was playing with an invisible cat’s cradle string. 

“Do you not /understand/, you simpletons? All I have to do is throw a lit match and your sist-- /What in the fuc--/!” the voice changed from commanding to panicked when Faustina herself burst into flames. The fire had started from her own hands, and spread across her body. Flames rolled down her skirt, thick and magma-like, setting the fuel at her feet on fire. There was an immediate rushing blow of black smoke.

Felicity backed away from the hole so Faustina and her fire could do the rest. The escaping duck showed no pain from the flames. She just shrugged and climbed out. The speakers crackled but no voice.

“/Coward/!” Faustina yelled as she got out of the cell, rolling back the glass with the heat. “Why didn’t I think of this?”

“We are underneath a gas station. Might want to tone down the fire,” Felicity suggested. She looked up at where the fuel was still dripping. A few options on what to do rolled around in her mind. “Why is this bothering me more than any other villain we fought?”

“I dunno. More the peeps we beat up tend to rob banks or fight other heroes, so, uh,” Faustina said, the flames disappearing in wisps of black smoke until not even a spark was left. The entire cell floor was covered in flames still. Despite having been set on fire, not a single part of Faustina’s body, even her clothes, had been burned or harmed. However, there was black smudging along the hem of her skirt. “... You’re gonna get my dry cleaning bill.”

“Yeah, we’ve never had to fight a killer that's been taking out… defenseless people,” Felicity mumbled, still watching the dripping gasoline. 

Faustina noticed the change in her sister’s tone. “Look, I can be a reverse conscience, bein’ all for tearing this guy apart. Is that what you want to do?” Faustina leaned in close to her twin, twinkle-eyed. “Really, I’d like to have that family bonding girls’ night /finally/.” 

“No...” Felicity replied quietly. Another moment’s pause, then she asked, “Can you resurrect the bodies in the freezer?”

“Yes,” Faustina said without hesitation. 

Felicity opened the nearest door, finding it to be a closet with the usual cleaning supplies. She handed Faustina a push broom. Not exactly what she hoped for but it would work. 

“I’ll go after him. You get the victims out of here,” Felicity said as she pointed to the hole in the ceiling that Faustina had originally fallen from.

The blonde witch gave a nod and got on the broom, flying out the available exit. Felicity took a ladder from the closet, used it to climb up into a different opening.

-------

Mr. Canis, a mild-mannered gas station owner with a shotgun in hand, was now running out of his business as fast as his legs could carry him.

Well, not that mild mannered, since he would often trap a lone 3 AM traveler or two, and force them to play his sadistic death games he held below the gas station. “A sacrifice to Fate during the bewitching hour” is what he called it. And two tired women on a road trip were just the perfect meals to feed the beast.

Metaphorical beasts. Not monsters like these two were. 

Mr. Canis had made a mistake. He had seen the warning signs! …Though, could the blonde filling the super size one liter soda cup with nothing but nacho cheese really count as a warning sign? After all, she did put a fifty dollar bill on the counter and said to charge her as much as he needed for extra cheese. This weird girl who he’d now just seen catch on fire and come out completely unscathed without any show or sign of pain.

Mr. Canis wasn’t going to stick around to see what the witch’s equally oddball sister could do. 

To think an hour ago his biggest concern was she might be a cop. The way she had just... inspected things on the shelves so tentatively. Actually stood there at the counter for a moment, reading the back of a bag of chips. And then, when he was ringing her up, she just smiled at him like she knew him. Asked how his day was with a strangely large amount of curiosity. 

Mr. Canis assumed the woman must know him--better yet, know what he did. Knew about the puzzles, the games. Knew about the sacrifices he had made to Fate. He could see it in her eyes.

There was a rattling of metal coming from right behind him. He ran across the small parking lot, toward the grass of the surrounding woods. He heard the rattle again. Like a horror movie, he just had to check, see the source of the sound--

The canine’s feet were back on the pavement. The rattling came from the steel door to the room containing all the fuel tanks. There was faint knocking from within--specifically one tank with a small “door” locked up. Mr. Canis laughed despite his fear; one of these so-called “powerful” women were now trapped by a simple metal lock on a rusty old door.

He stopped laughing when the lock broke after another couple knocks. Seemingly with no force either. With one more push, Felicity climbed out of the tank, drenched. Instead of the strong scent of gasoline, she was soaked in cola. 

Mr. Canis was all the more confused when harmless brown soda could be seen (and smelled) in the fuel tank, instead of the gasoline that would be more harmful for this girl to swim in. He was frozen, flabbergasted. How could the hoses for the syrup to the soda fountains even be out here? They must have been diluting the fuel he was using for the traps.

When Mr. Canis snapped out of his daze, he found the black-haired duck glaring back at him in silence. If looks could kill, he’d be dead and buried.

Felicity had been excited to meet the Prime-verse counterpart of the Nega-verse gas station owner she was friends with. She had expected a grumpy version of the man that ran her favorite Nega-verse stop. Maybe throw out loitering teens instead of offering them free day-old donuts. It was going to be amusing. Be fun.

Not deadly.

Mr. Canis fired a shot at her, and it missed. Missed even at point blank. Sure, she had tilted her torso just slightly left, but it should have still hit something! Mr. Canis wasn’t an amateur when it came to firearms. 

Felicity abruptly grabbed the gun. One hand around the top of the barrel, and the other farther down the shaft. Mr. Canis' finger was still curled around the trigger, and he fired another shot. In an instant, she bent and raised the barrel so the shot went into the air.

Felicity gained leverage and let one hand go of the gun. Her free one grabbed under the canine’s arm. Mr. Canis was on his back in a flash when the smaller duck flipped him onto the ground.

Felicity held the gun now, aimed expertly at her would-be attacker. “Get up. Get inside the gas station.” 

“Look, this is all a misunderstanding. Obviously you have the blessed fortune to get through my maze of fate. You and your sister are free to go! Isn’t that wonderful? Go ahead and be on your way!” Mr. Canis was desperate; poor excuses, he knew, but he tried. Maybe the girl would be so in shock by what happened she would just leave? 

Felicity was silent, and still glaring. In that moment, Mr. Canis wished she was more talkative like the blonde. He reluctantly got up, and headed into the gas station. Felicity followed, keeping the gun pointed at his back. 

“I take it you two are going to tie me up and call the cops to come get me?” he chuckled, like he’d forgotten all about the insanity of the last ten or so minutes.

That peace did not last long. Faustina was sitting on the checkout counter. Three other women were in the station as well. Very familiar women. Awake, moving, but still cold from the freezer. Glassy eyed, they actually did not look fully alive. Just alive enough. 

“Are there more? Because those woods back there look very iffy,” Faustina questioned, as casually as someone would when looking for their lost keys. She sat in her billowy dress, legs crossed and hands resting on one bent knee. She smirked wide when the murderer was too  shocked to reply. “What? Nothing to say? What would you like to do, dearest sister?”

“We let him choose his fate,” Felicity finally spoke up. There was a glimmer in Faustina’s eye. She had never seen Felicity prone to actual violence. This was a treat. Though, she gave a disheartened pout when her sister just had to ruin it with all the lawful goody-two-shoes stuff. “We’re calling the cops, and you better sit still and stay here while we all wait for them to arrive.”

“Those three… How are they… what is… going on?” the panic returned to Mr. Canis’s voice. The same panic when he watched Faustina burst into flames as if it were nothing but a change of clothes. 

“Idiot. You have the worst luck ever. You literally, /literally/ put someone cursed by Fortuna in your fate maze, and someone blessed by demons in your fire trap. How dumb. What a /moron/. /Absolute tool!/” Faustina complained and scowled.

“I’m sure your mood’ll improve soon enough,” Felicity said, eyes rolling. She waved a hand and turned away. “I’m stepping out to call the cops. I’ve got the gun on me, but I’m sure you can handle him if he tries anything funny.”

Faustina grinned, watching her sister leave. “No problemo!” She turned her grin, now more feral, to Mr. Canis as she cracked her knuckles. “So, hey, a couple of your ‘former customers’ wanna file some complaints about your little side business here. I recommend you take them very seriously.”

Mr. Canis whimpered, looking between Faustina and the three women lumbering closer. “Are you… are you going to kill me?” he gulped.

“I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to leave it to fate. Ladies, if you get rid of him before sunrise, the spell will resurrect you. The more pain you put him through, the better the rezz,” Faustina said and grinned before turning to leave the room. She shut the door on the horrified, high-pitched shrieking and crying.

Felicity stood outside, arms crossed, like she had just caught a child eating all the cookies from the jar. 

“What? You prefer I don’t rezz them?”

“I’m pretty sure you can just transfer his life force into them without the--” Felicity’s words were interrupted by a blood curdling scream. 

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that? Karma’s a bitch, after all.”

------

Lawd the baddies in the Saw movies piss me off would love monster girls to beat the shit out of them. HUZZAH.

[poisxnyouth]

teacher!dave fic. chapter 1. (d.d)

A/N: oops. I couldn’t not. I wrote this SO quick, apologies if there are any errors! let me know what you think. -hailey

wc: 3.5k

The thought of senior year in its entirety was nerve wracking. Left and right, everywhere you went, you were going to be experiencing things for the last time ever. Including your last relationship of high school.

++

You had been hoping to see Mrs. Porter on you schedule ever for your AP Lit class; instead, seeing someone named Dobrik. There were only 2 AP Lit teachers at your school, so you can’t help but wonder if whoever Dobrik is replaced Mrs. Porter, or if they replaced the other teacher.

You and your friends flood the steps of your high school’s main campus on the night of Open House, schedules in hand as you flit around the grounds, meeting your teachers and finding your classrooms.

It’s an easy process, you and your friends were the same types of students with a majority of the same classes, so out of your 7 classes, you shared the same periods with them. It being your senior year, finding your classrooms was a piece of cake and took little to no time.

You move period by period, hopping through your lists out of order. A constant in your conversation was whoever Mr. or Mrs. Dobrik was; it was rare for teachers to leave your school or quit, so it made you all curious.

You and your friends eventually make it to the classroom of your first period: room 225, AP Lit with Dobrik. You mistake who you assume is Mr. Dobrik for a student, his hips propped up against his desk at the back of the room, arms crossed as he talks to a parent. His eyes glance toward the door as your group files in, standing up straight and politely excusing himself.

“Hey! You guys have this class? Let me check you all off my roster, just so I know I saw you and talked to you and gave you the syllabus and all that.” Mr. Dobrik turns to his desk, grabbing his rosters and thumbing through a stack of stapled papers, eyes looking up as he counts how many of you there are and taking the matching amount.

He makes his way over to you and leans against the nearest desk to you all, pen and green highlighter in hand.

“So, hi. I’m Mr. Dobrik. This is my first year teaching so don’t be too rough on me, but like, if I’m doing a terrible job and you don’t understand anything…..please tell me, even though my ego will get hurt. Seriously, though, this is a really difficult course and while I want to make it academically challenging, I don’t want to make it impossible. I’m pretty malleable with homework deadlines, but only if you come talk to me. Otherwise, late work is an absolute no and I can’t forgive it,” Mr. Dobrik is highlighting the same spots of every syllabus as his eyes scan back and forth through your group of five, making a point to make eye contact with every single one of you every time he glances up.

“I know you guys have jobs and extracurriculars and everything, but again: my answer is to just talk to me. I’m easy in that aspect. Um...there was something else, too,” he scratches his head, pushing his glasses up and searching through a syllabus.

“Oh! Phones. You can listen to music or whatever, I just ask that you don’t text or post or anything during my class. I’ll go more into all of this on Monday, I just wanted to clarify the basics, okay?” He looks up and makes eye contact again, searching for all of your confirmations.

“I know there’s usually a summer assignment for this class, so you guys are lucky you didn’t have to do it since I wasn’t here. That being said, my lesson plans are especially rigorous for the first quarter because you didn’t have one.”

“Basically, a good rule of thumb if you have any questions about anything, is to come talk to me. You can’t get the notes done on time because you work three to ten? Come talk to me. You have band until eight that night? Come talk to me. I’m here to help you, not make shit - sorry, not to make things difficult for you. I want you to pass the exam and get this credit.” He stands now, capping his highlighter and uncapping his pen.

“What are your names and what period are you in?” Mr. Dobrik makes the point of eye contact, checking the name off of his roster, and writing the name on the syllabus. You’re the last one, and you stutter out your own name, your eyes glancing down to his lips as he scans through his list, putting a check at the side of your name. He writes your name in the top right corner of the paper in messy handwriting, looking as iif it was written with the intent to be neat.

“Okay! Thank you guys. I’ll see you first thing Monday morning. Have a good weekend.” You all murmur your polite reciprocation, waving him goodbye as he smiles and runs a hand through his hair, seemingly nervous.

Once down the hallway, one of your friends eventually bursts, “Okay, was he totally fucking fine or is it just me? He’s also super young. Like, he’s barely older than us. Please tell me it’s not just me.”

You and your group immediately start, “Oh my God, no. It’s not just you. He’s probably the most fuckable teacher now. He’s got that messy brown hair, doe eyed, smart, nerdy thing going for him. I literally felt speechless as he looked at me for my name...Y/N stuttered!” You blush at their derision as they only laugh harder.

You don’t know how you’re ever going to talk to him or ask him questions when you can barely tell him your name.

++

Monday morning comes quickly; your last first day of school begins with you and your group stockpiling into your car, picking each of them up one by one. It’s an easy (albeit early) morning leading up to the first bell.

You all wander through Mr. Dobrik’s propped open door a few minutes after the first bell. He’s fiddling with his coffee pot he must've brought, back turned to the door. He hears the ruckus, though, looking over his shoulder.

“Hey! Good to see you again. You guys can sit anywhere. I’m not gonna have assigned seats or anything, so…” he trails off, turning back to whatever he was doing. His hair is slightly wet, white dress shirt clean and pressed, paired with a red tie, black skinny jeans and black Vans. He was too close to your age to be your teacher.

You and your friends are mostly too nervous to make any sort of conversation with each other amid the mostly silent room, sitting together and mouthing to one another, Oh my God, he looks so good!

More students come through his door and he greets every single one of them, quietly fixing himself a cup of coffee in a mug that stated what must have been his alma mater. The late bell rings, Mr. Dobrik immediately shutting his door and taking attendance. He calls out the names under his breath, eyes darting in between his computer screen and his students as he searches for the familiar faces.

“Y/N is present...okay, we’re good! Everyone’s here.” Mr. Dobrik doesn’t look at you as he says it though, one of your friends kicking at your leg under the table as you blush at the fact. He quickly sets up his computer and his PowerPoint on his class information, leaning against a table as he sips at his coffee.

“Okay, hi, everyone! I’m Mr. Dobrik. I went to University of Illinois and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree. I majored in English and minored in Film, and I’ve just started an online Master’s program with U of I, where I’ll study Psychology. Um, I just turned 23, like, last month, and this is my first year teaching so all I ask is you don’t murder me if you don’t like something about my class or how I act, ‘cause I’m new at this!” Mr. Dobrik takes another sip of his coffee, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and hitting the next arrow on his keyboard, revealing a slide of essentially everything he had explained to you the night of Open House.

“So, like, the phones...I don’t care if you listen to music, but I don’t want you Snapchatting or playing iMessage games or anything while I’m trying to teach or you’re supposed to be doing an assignment, you know? I believe it’s disrespectful and rude; don’t waste my time and don’t waste yours. This is an AP class and we all know it’s a difficult course. If any of that’s an issue for you, I politely ask that you head down to guidance and snag you one of those handy schedule change request forms. Um,” he pauses, “I won’t ever put my hands on your stuff; you don’t touch my stuff and I won’t touch yours. It’s simple. I respect you guys and it’s not fair if I can do things you can’t, you know? So, I won’t take your phone. Again, I will never lay a finger on anything that’s yours, however, if your phone is out and you’re not changing a song or something, I will kick you out and send you to attendance. It’s different if you come up to me and say, Hey, Mr. Dobrik, my mom is calling, can I step outside and answer it? Like, duh. If it’s important, just ask me.” Mr. Dobrik continues sipping at his coffee, pulling his glasses off and placing them on the table. He rubs at his eyes before he slowly takes another mouthful, eyes peeking up sleepily as he looks around the room blindly.

“That’s really the gist of this whole thing, honestly. If there’s an issue, if you need more time for an assignment, need to take a phone call or text someone back, just talk to me. I was practically just in high school, so I get it; I know how hard it is when everything is due at the same time and the pile keeps getting bigger and bigger and you’re trying so hard to balance everything along with school. I’m also all ears if you want to come and talk to me about something that’s happening in your life or something similar, I have A lunch so if you guys want to come in and hang out, feel free. Again, the main point is: if you have any issues at all, just come talk to me, we can work through it together. Most of you are seniors, so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.” He shrugs nonchalantly, putting his glasses back on and placing his mug on the table. “D’you have any questions?” He scans the room quickly, taking everyone’s unresponsiveness as his answer, “No? Okay. Cool.”

Mr. Dobrik continues speaking about the first quarter and what you’ll cover during the first few units, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows as he lectures. He reveals the first assignment: simple Cornell notes for the first two chapters of the textbook due Wednesday.

“The plan is to have a day every month where I meet with you guys and talk about what you understand and what you don’t. My philosophy is that your grade reflects what you know, not what work you did or didn’t do or copied off of someone else. If I can talk to you and have a good discussion about whatever we’re analyzing at that time, you’ll be fine. I really just want you to be able to analyze and have the ability to connect what we read with our personal lives in this day and age. You probably know this, but we’re starting in the 1600’s and going until present day. We’re going to read some John Keats, William Wordsworth, Anne Rice, Charlotte Bronte, et cetera, et cetera, you know the drill. I’m going to try to pick things that I believe you will be genuinely interested in or connect with, and if I don’t...um, not to throw him under the bus or anything, but it’s probably Mr. Carroll’s pick that he’s making me do with him. I’m serious! He wanted to analyze, like, the Federalist papers and I immediately said hell no.

“Really, though, your grade reflects what you know. And you guys probably need to get to it, so I’ll stop beating you over the head with my voice. Talk to me if you don’t like a certain type of assignment and we can come up with an alternate; talk to me if you need to take a call; you can eat in here but be nice about it; talk to me if you don’t understand something, all that jazz. I’m easy to get along with, I promise. Just talk to me and respect me and we’re all good. Cool? Alright. Textbooks are under your seats. You’ll need to go down to the Media Center on your own time to check one out. Get started. I’ll come around and talk to you guys in a few.” Mr. Dobrik finally pushes himself off of the side of the table he had been leaning on for the past 15 minutes, students rustling through their bags for pens and paper as he sits at his desk, submitting his attendance and responding to emails.

“Y/N, stop staring!” One of your friends, Jessie, kicks you under the table for the second time that period. “You’ve been drooling over him ever since he said Hi, I’m Mr. Dobrik! Like, it’s impossible for you to stare any harder. He totally noticed, too!” She’s whispering as you all work, a quiet hum of voices spreading across the room.

“He did not!” You defend, “No way. I was just paying attention.”

“Y/N, you were literally leaning against your arm with hearts in your eyes. Get a grip. If he wants to talk to us as much as he says he does, you’re going to have to get over it. He’s our teacher and he’s hot, but that’s all he is!”

“Oh my God, Jessie, it’s not that big of a deal. Just because I think he’s hot doesn’t mean I want to date the guy-,” you’re scribbling main ideas down as you skim through the paragraphs.

“Who’s the guy? Maybe I have him,” Mr. Dobrik leans over your table, scanning over your group’s papers before looking at you.

“Oh, um,” you blush at his eye contact as he bites at his lips, looking down at you. “Doesn’t really matt-.”

“I’m joking, Y/N,” he cuts you off and leans over, turning your paper to face him. He repeatedly glances between you and the paper before speaking once more, “Okay! You ladies good?”  You all murmur your agreement before he moves around to another group, shifting from table to table.

“Y/N, what the fuck was that? He has to know you’re into him!” You shake your head, no longer wanting to speak about it.

++

Two days later in Mr. Dobrik’s class, he’s going around, table by table, and grading everyone’s notes in front of them. It’s a snicker fest between your friends as he leans over you, red pen in hand as his eyebrows scrunch together and he shakes his head.

“No. You did this wrong. I’ll give you partial credit, but it’s not what I asked for. You can come in here during lunch and redo it for full credit. They look good, though.” He’s stern, already moving onto Jessie’s work before you stop him, making his eyes meet yours.

“Mr. Dobrik, respectfully, what do you mean? You looked at my notes both Monday and yesterday and you said it was fine. Like, I don’t understand. This is the first assignment of the quarter, and I’m starting it with a fifty? I’ll come in and redo it, but why? I just don’t understand.” You maintain the eye contact with him, his lips going in between his teeth as he chews on them for a split second.

“We’ll talk about it at lunch, okay? It’s fine. We can do this later,” he promises, returning to Jessie’s work as you stare at the bright red fifty percent at the top of your page.

So, you come in during lunch. He’s alone, typing away at his laptop as you walk through the door.

“Hey, Y/N. Come sit and we’ll talk. Can you get out the notes?” You feel odd about this already, silently obeying him and pulling the papers out as he continues sending emails, not looking at you. You wait quietly, placing the notes on his desk. He turns to you, looking them over quickly and leaning in closer. He’s too close, it feels like, and you can smell hints of his cologne mixing with his soap.

“Yeah. Okay. So, like, you paraphrased this entire time. There aren’t any bullet points, they’re just paragraph summaries. I don’t want what the book says, except for vocab, maybe. Like, I can tell just by looking at this that if I made you take a quiz right this second you’d fail it. Convince me. Make the work worth it and make it help you in the long run.” He leans back in his chair, looking at you again.

“I thought you said it doesn’t matter how we take our notes-.”

“It doesn’t,” he shrugs, “I don’t care how you do it as long as you know the content. But you don’t.” He doesn’t appreciate your talking back to him, but he lets it slide, liking the fact that you feel comfortable enough with him to argue about your work.

“How do you know that?”

“Y/N. I’ve peer edited and peer edited and peer edited these past 4 years of my life. I can spot when someone’s writing is half hearted. Even if it’s just notes. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t mean it that way, like, I never thought that you didn’t know what you were doing, I was just asking-.” He waves you off, smile playing at his lips.

“I know. I’m teasing,” Mr. Dobrik rolls a pen in his fingertips, running the pads of his fingers down the ridges of its side. “Really, though, just think about the content thoroughly and analyze it and you’ll get a 100. The work was phenomenal, I mean it, I just don’t think it’s the best you can accomplish as a student. I know I’ve only had you for 3 days, but like, it’s really obvious to me that you can do better than half-assed summaries. Again, they’re still great, but you can do better. It’s really not about the grade, at this point, right?”

You tilt your head in confusion, looking at him as he leans forward.

“Your work is college-level already. They’re just summaries, but you reworded them great and got the main idea across fine. If you do your best, I’m giving you a 100 in here,” he shrugs again, still playing with the pen in his hands. “I also saw you skimming the passages and your mind was somewhere else entirely.” You know what he’s hinting at, and it’s suddenly obvious how right Jessie was. He knows, but there’s nothing you could do about it and there’s certainly no going back.

“It’s fine. Just be present in my class and we won’t have any issues.” What the hell did that mean? That he knew you had the hots for him and that it was fine, that he was perfectly comfortable with it as long as you kept focused?

“Back to the point, though. You can produce better academic work. Do you agree?”

You nod, meeting his eyes.

“Okay. So, since you agree you can do better, I can start pushing you. If you want that, of course. Do you?” He’s pushing his fingers through his hair now, still looking at you. You don’t know what game he’s playing at, but something in you is telling you there’s a different motive than purely a teacher/student drive. Still, though, you say yes, looking at your hands.

“Okay. Then, tomorrow, I want the revised notes, your favorite poem, and a five paragraph analysis of it on my desk first thing. Can you do that for me?” You make eye contact again, nodding.

“Then you’re all good. I just wanted to talk to you privately about it. Let me know if it becomes too much or something. I honestly just think you have a lot of potential and as your teacher, I’d hate to see it go to waste. I don’t want you doing what I did. I didn’t try hard enough.”

“That’s besides the point, though. You can go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Mr. Dobrik promises as you both stand and he begins walking you to his door. He’s putting the doorstop in as you step out of his room, making sure you hear his Can’t wait to see what you come up with for me!

You stay up until 2AM ensuring everything is perfect.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Mixed Signals

Summary: Blaine Anderson is the new transfer at McKinley High. He quickly becomes fast friends with Kurt Hummel—Glee Club diva, straight A student, Cheerio extraordinaire. He plans to win his heart, but there’s just one problem: he can’t make heads or tails of Kurt’s personality, as it seems to change every hour or so...

A/N: So uh, I don’t really know what this is I haven’t written anything in literal years and I just popped this trash baby out so... yeah enjoy

* Blaine follows his new show choir director into the choir room, which he notes is significantly less grandeur than the one at Dalton, but he digressed. McKinley was supposed to be a new start and although leaving Dalton isn’t something he was ever too keen about, he knows he has to try and find the silver lining of it all, at least for his parents’ sakes.

Said silver lining presents itself in the form of a pale skinned, blue eyed boy wearing a cheerleading uniform who caught Blaine’s eye as he took center stage of the room to introduce himself. “Hello everyone,” he waves to the eclectic group of students with one hand and keeps the other safely in his pocket. “I’m Blaine Anderson. I just transferred here from Dalton Academy.”

It seems he has unnamed male Cheerio’s attention, he can practically feel the boy’s gaze quickly traveling up and down his entire body, as if assessing him. “Let’s all give Blaine a warm welcome,” says the teacher—Mr. Shue, he remembered. He gestures to the chairs in front of them as the thirteen other members applauded. “Take a seat wherever you’d like.” It doesn’t m take long for him to make his way towards the empty seat next to Cheerio boy and claim it. It also doesn’t take long for the rest of the New Directions to exchange a multitude of glances that range from surprised to suggestive to sly.

The boy offers Blaine a hand and an almost bashful smile. “My name’s Kurt,” he introduced himself. “Kurt Hummel.” After fifty minutes of solos, rehearsing, and casual chatter, Blaine is definitely intrigued by Kurt, to say the least. He learns that Kurt and Finn are step brothers after the latter had come up to him and asked what they were having for dinner. “Oh, you two are dating?” Blaine had asked, not so smoothly and unable to keep his interest discreet despite his best efforts. This caused the tallest of them all to laugh heartily, throwing his head back. “No, we’re brothers. Kurt’s dad married my mom. I used to be kind of a dick, but our brotherhood kind of changed that. Did you know that grilled cheesus never said anything about gay people—“ Finn goes on for several more minutes about all he’s learned about gay rights in support of his brother, and Kurt watches and listens with equal parts pride and amusement. Not everything he says is entirely accurate, but neither Kurt nor Blaine have the heart to tell him that. Instead, they just exchange bemused glances every time it happens and let the leader of the New Directions continue on, blissfully ignorant. The bell finally dismisses them, and before Blaine leaves, his new friend is practically bouncing over to him. Blaine notes the hopeful look on his face as he gnawed on his bottom lip nervously. “I know this might be a little forward, but,” he reaches out and pulled his arm towards him, rucking up Blaine’s sleeve. He tries to stay calm as he watches the purple pen move furiously, scrawling out seven digits on Blaine’s forearm. “We should hang out.” He can’t keep the smile off his face. “We should.” * The next time Blaine sees Kurt, he’s changed out of his Cheerio’s uniform and opted for a subdued gray tee shirt paired with a blue hoodie. He can’t say he’s not surprised at the disconnect between Kurt’s effervescent personality and muted fashion sense, but he’s excited to share calculus with him nonetheless. He throws his hand up in a friendly wave towards the boy and is slightly confused when he receives nothing more but an angrily puzzled glare in return. Offset, but not entirely discouraged, he sits right behind him. The lesson continues and Blaine is taking immaculate and thorough notes about the square root of negative integers when Kurt bursts out in disbelief. “Woah, woah, there are imaginary numbers now?” He scoffs, and Blaine is startled at how much lower his voice is. “Are there unicorns in the next lesson?” “Mr. Hummel,” the teacher scolds, folding his arms. “Are we going to need another chat with principal Figgins?” “No but we might need one with the people in charge of educating the nation’s youth.” He mutters. Blaine is absolutely floored at the jarring contrast between the Kurt he met two periods ago and the one sitting in front of him right now. Still, he doesn’t want his new friend to get into trouble, so he places a gentle hand on his shoulder, earning a flinch from the other boy. He whips around to face Blaine. “What?” He hisses. “Nothing, I just... don’t want you to get into trouble.” He admits.

He looks at Blaine like he’s never seen him before this moment, absolutely bewildered. “Thanks,” he says, not an ounce of actual gratitude in his voice. “But I can handle myself just fine.” And he turns back around to face the board. Blaine sits there, stirring in his confusion. He hadn’t know Kurt could be so... abrasive. At least, not based on his interactions with him earlier that day. He brushes it off with a shake of his head. Maybe he was just having a bad day. He’s sure it’s a one time thing. * It’s not a one time thing. Blaine slowly realizes over the course of more than a few days, that it’s an actually very regular occurrence. And normally, this would be the sort of thing that makes Blaine run for the hills, but the fifty-percent of the time Kurt is being his normal optimistic self (he quickly thinks, what if he just assumes that’s Kurt’s default personality because it’s the first one he met, but he pushes the thought aside) he is really into him. He hasn’t been this into a guy since... well, ever. He’s seen Kurt stand up to several jerks with comebacks that had the power behind them to instantly disintegrate anyone who dared to try and shoot any homophobia in his direction. He isn’t used to this kind of bravery, mostly because it wasn’t needed at Dalton, but here it definitely is, and Blaine admires courage like that. Kurt was there when he had first gotten slushied, willing and more than prepared with all the needed grooming supplies to help get the sticky sweet ice out of Blaine’s unfortunate hair. They had even sung a few—admittedly flirty—duets for their glee club assignments. That was the Kurt he liked. But he’s also seen Kurt crumple up the cute note he’d left for him on his desk and immediately toss it into the wastebasket. He’s seen him mock fellow Cheerios when he’s not in uniform with “Two, four, six, eight! Heard you like to fornicate!” and a sarcastic grin. But what he can’t fathom is how Kurt from glee club, who never fails to ask “Mr. Shue, may I?” ever so politely, and Kurt from history, who refers to Bill Clinton as “came-a-lot”, are the same person. He’s made serval mental notes to help him unravel the enigma that was Kurt Hummel, dividing the two versions of him into “Glee Kurt” and “Calculus Kurt”. Glee Kurt likes to talk, likes to learn everything he can about Blaine. So he tells him everything from piano lessons at age four, to his annoying older brother Cooper. He also likes little intimate touches—a hand on the thigh after a good joke, the grazing of each other’s hands, leaning into each other’s shoulders. Blaine never complains about this, if anything, he encourages it by reciprocating every sign of interest Kurt shows, especially since they’re gone just as easily as they come. Calculus Kurt speaks in a lower register than Glee Kurt, and after trying to reach for his hand during the few minutes before class and earning an outraged swat in return, Blaine’s learned to practically avoid any contact with him at all during that class, whether it be verbal or physical. He only steps in when he thinks Kurt’s snide remarks might get him into too much trouble. It’s confusing, to say the least, but Blaine Anderson is not a quitter. * “God my brother is driving me crazy,” Kurt moans as Blaine walks him down the hallway. Blaine chuckles, unable to imagine what Finn could have possibly done this time. “Was his late-night Call Of Duty tournament keeping you up too late?” Kurt looks puzzled. “He doesn’t play Call Of Duty,” he replies. Blaine’s forehead creases in confusion because he’s sure he’s heard Finn boast about his marathons on that video game on more than one occasion. “No, his laptop died and he refused to give me back mine so he could work on his journalism project.“ Blaine had no idea that Finn was so passionate about writing, but he supposes Kurt knows his own brother better than he does. * It takes a few weeks, but Blaine finally figures it out. It’s the Cheerios uniform.

He’s been sheltered by all those years at Dalton, so when he came to McKinley he didn’t understand right away, but now he does. Status is everything to the kids at this school and if you’re wearing a Letterman jacket or a Cheerios uniform, nobody’s going to screw with you.

But if you’re not... well, Blaine is certain that Kurt’s built up walls of his own to protect himself from the idiots like Azimio and Langanthal when he doesn’t have the Cheerios uniform to do it for him.

It’s the only logical explanation.

At least it is until he walks into the choir room and Kurt is wearing black jeans with a bright yellow raincoat.

“Wow,” Blaine greets him, mostly out of surprise from how different this outfit is from Kurt’s normal wardrobe. “Do you like it?” Kurt takes his usual seat next to Blaine.

“I-I think it’s great,” Blaine stammers, hating how hard it is to make heads or tails of the boy sitting next to him. “It’s just so different from your usual get up.” “I know.” Kurt chortles. “Sue had them sent out for dry cleaning, so we get to freestyle dress today.” So, Blaine supposes, it’s not the Cheerios uniform. * Blaine sighs as he walks into calculus. This is a bad idea. He knows it’s a really bad idea because Kurt is always in a bad mood for this class, but he doesn’t care. He’s hoping that if he can get Kurt to act like his normal self now, he can do it indefinitely and he won’t have to worry about it anymore. He takes a steadying breath and walks right up to him. “I usually know to wait until you’re out of this class, but I can’t take it anymore. Will you go to dinner with me?” Kurt looks up at him like he’s the dumbest creature on earth. It stings. “Sorry,” Kurt spits without an ounce of remorse in his voice. “I’m not gay, but if I were, I don’t think you’d be my type.” Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His hurt quickly morphs into anger and he retorts back, “You know, I get that you’re capricious, but I never took you for a coward,” before pushing past him and taking a seat in the very back of the class. He doesn’t see confounded look on the other boy’s face and doesn’t hear him whisper, “What the fuck,” to himself. * The situation gets a hundred times more confusing when Kurt comes up to him in the hallway a few days later. “Hey!” He calls out to Blaine. Blaine tenses. He so does not want to have this conversation right now, and certainly not in the middle of the hallway. He keeps walking, keeps avoiding Kurt. “I am talking to you!” Kurt finally catches up with him and grabs him by the shoulder to force Blaine to face him. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and I want to know why!” Blaine is dumbfounded. “Look, Kurt,” he scoffs. “If I had known you were still in the closet, I would’ve probably backed off. But you came onto me! I get not being ready to come out, but I really like you and I don’t know how much longer–hmph!” Before he knows what’s happening, Kurt is pulling on the front of Blaine’s jacket, bringing their faces together. And it’s... nice. It’s really nice. The pressure of Kurt’s mouth against his own is warm and even, and for a moment Blaine forgets all the crazy that seems to revolve around Kurt Hummel because all he can think about is the world of possibilities this kiss is opening up. Kurt pulls away, leaving him in a daze. “Would someone who’s in the closet do that?” “I guess not.” Blaine responds airily, head still spinning. * When Blaine sees Kurt at the end of that day, shoving some books into his locker, he can’t keep his stupid grin off his face. Blaine comes up behind him and grabs his waist playfully, spinning his around. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” He says before pulling them together. If he’s being honest... it’s not very good. He can feel Kurt grimace and tense up by the time their lips meet, and he’s about to pull away and ask what’s wrong before Kurt beats him to the punch. He shoves Blaine’s chest, splitting them asunder. “What the fuck was that?” Blaine can see that Kurt is absolutely seething. “I just thought- after earlier today—” “In case I haven’t been very clear before, I’m gonna be completely transparent now,” he fumes. “I never want to see your face again. Stay the hell away from me!” Blaine watches in a melting pot of emotions as Kurt turns around and all but sprints away from him. What the hell was that all about? * Blaine knocks on the Hudson-Hummel household door vigorously. He knows Kurt told him to stay the hell away from him, but his stubborn frustration tells him they are going to talk about this god dammit. The door opens and Finn can barely get out a friendly greeting before Blaine busts pats him. “Where’s your brother?” He demands. “Uh, which one?” “Don’t play dumb, Finn!” The taller boy only looks at him expectantly. “Kurt!” Finn sees the look in Blaine’s eyes and knows he’s searching for some kind of answer, probably one he can’t give him. “Uh, Kurt!” He calls. “Your boyfriend’s here and he looks kinda pissed off.” Kurt comes down the stairs, face lighting up when he sees Blaine. “Hey—“ he starts, but Blaine wastes no time getting to the point. “Are we gonna talk about that kiss or not?” “What?” “I should go.” Finn points out uncomfortably. “I thought it was nice, right?” “It-it was not nice.” Blaine exhales. “You said you didn’t want to see me again.” “Am I missing something here?” “I have no idea why I’m still here.” “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals from you, Kurt!” Blaine finally explodes. “In glee club all you want to do is flirt and hold hands and banter which I am all for, believe me! But then in calculus you seem like you want nothing to do with me!” “Calculus?” Kurt’s face twists up in a lack of understanding. “We don’t have that class together. I don’t even take calculus, I’m in statistics—“ And then it hits him. He doesn’t take calculus, but there’s one person he knows who does. “CARSON!” Kurt screeches so loudly that even Blaine, seething just a moment ago, is startled. Blaine hears another set of footsteps rush down the stairs accompanied by a familiar voice. “I swear to god if you called me down here while I’m in the middle of editing my college entrance essay to tell me how unflattering my wardrobe is again I’m gonna—“ The boy stops dead in his tracks when he sees Blaine, and Blaine blanches. “Oh, my god.” He mumbles. Standing in front of him is an exact replica of Kurt, wearing the same blue jacket he’d always donned in calculus. He looks at Kurt, then back at—Carson. It all makes so much sense. Kurt didn’t have a dual personality, Blaine was just an idiot. Twins. Fucking twins. “Oh, my god,” Carson says, turning to Finn and Kurt. “It’s that weirdo I was telling you about!” “Wait, this is the creepy guy who has a crush on you?” Kurt asks in bewilderment. “I thought you were just expressing your closeted homophobia a la Finn circa sophomore year?” “Oh,” Finn rolls his eyes. “You just have to bring that up again.” “You know I’m not homophobic,” Carson retorts, ignoring his stepbrother. “This is that guy that gave me that note, asked me out, then kissed me without warning!” “You kissed Carson?” Kurt and Finn ask in unison. “I thought he was you!” Blaine defends himself. “For a month?” Carson asks, unconvinced. He scoffs. “Convenient.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” Kurt growls back at him. “Dude,” Finn interjects, voice beginning to bubble up with laughter. “They look nothing alike.” “Finn, they are literally identical twins!” “What, did you just think Kurt was really fickle?” Carson asks incredulously. Blaine opens his mouth to respond but snaps it shut immediately because even though he now realizes how utterly absurd that sounds, it’s exactly what he thought. “Oh, my god.” Finn, Kurt, and Carson all chorus in realization. The horror of the situation dawns on Blaine and a white-hot embarrassment starts burning in the pit of his stomach. “I have to go.” He says, eyes wide as he turns to leave. Kurt grabs his hand. “What? You don’t have to leave,” he explains. Blaine shakes his head incredulously. “You’re not done with me? After all that?” “Of course not!” He laughs as if it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Do I think you can be a little ridiculously oblivious? Of course. But I really like you, Blaine. Besides, this will make a great story one day.” From behind them, Carson rolls his eyes. “Can I fucking go now?” Kurt shoots his brother a glare then immediately turns his attention back to Blaine. “But if you ever kiss my brother again, we’re through.” Blaine lets his head fall forward and huffs out a laugh. “Deal.” 

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S3 Ep 9: So Tristan Died

Been resisting that springtime urge to buy a house plant and watch it slowly die while everyone else on my timeline posts beautiful terrariums and wallscapes. I have murdered nearly every plant I own, I have no idea why, I have killed several cacti. But I just found out about logees.com and y’all. Have you seen a rock fig? I want it so bad.

So, instead of wasting my money, I will write here and...not click buy on that rock fig. That beautiful beautiful rock shaped plant. That incredible and glorious miniature Deku Tree.

Also, this week Tumblr said that they’re extending the post limit size for text posts and like...there was a text post limit? Y’all I assumed these posts were hella long, (and in fact way, way, way too long) but like, I never capped a text post limit so...I guess I do all right.

So, switching over to Yugioh, we’re back with the Tristan-Duke-Serenity trio, who are still fighting over Serenity, the world’s most oblivious child. I haven’t gone over too much what their high and low points have been over these past like 5ish episodes but here’s what they’ve been up to, a refresher course of what they’ve been doing since Tristan drowned a Rhinoceros turtle in the lake.

1.) Serenity sneezed once and the Tristan and Duke had a big fight over who gave Serenity a cold

2.)

Sorry that’s all they’ve done. I really thought this would be a list when I started.

It’s been so boring that Serenity has decided this has been the best part of her tourney vacation (she is not wrong). And I just realized--she went to great lengths to get her eyes fixed and now she’s trapped in the VR zone and she doesn’t even need eyes to be here. Hell, if she gets trapped here, she’ll never need eyes again, she’ll have permanent perfect vision 24/7. We keep finding new alternatives instead of spending millions of dollars on Serenity’s eyes and the show kind of glazes over it.

Anyways, we learn a lot about Serenity this episode, mainly that Serenity is a little bit of a space cadet.

(Every episode Duke’s necklace is a little bit more simplified and today it is...almost just a cross. I look forward to seeing what necklace’s final form will be.)

Duke is supposed to be the antagonist of the three, but it really comes off that Tristan and Serenity have goldfish memories and somehow do not recall being launched down a hyperspace tube by five insane computer ghosts trying to consume their bodies. Most people would not forget that happening so like...it’s kinda hard not to side with Duke. Weird that the guy with such ridiculous hair is actually the most level headed person here.

And honestly, if Yugi had been speaking, then Joey and Serenity would have sobered up. Kind of a bummer that Duke doesn’t have the card cred, although Tristan was there when Duke beat Joey.

Like this episode was somewhat frustrating because Duke Devlin really is supposed to be incredibly good at cards, a kid who has only been beaten by the Pharaoh himself, and Tristan and Serenity sort of don’t believe him for some reason. Duke owns a version of the game they are playing. Like, he has ownership over Dungeon Dice and they don’t...care? It’s really weird, but it’s not like Duke has really done anything for an entire season so maybe he deserved this?

But considering that he’s been running for his life/kidnapped since they met up again 2 days ago during Kaiba’s tourney, maybe Duke just has no choice but to hang out with these people who do not respect him at all.

(read more under the cut)

Also, they’re still keeping it a secret that Duke beat Joey because...they’re still lying out of their ass for Serenity’s self esteem. It’s Season 3 and we’re still very concerned that Serenity cannot handle the truth. This girl was in a hospital for weeks and completely blind, I’m pretty sure if anyone can handle hard truths, it’s this girl. But, she’s very pretty, so better not spook her.

I am impressed that this random throwaway plot point from the beginning of S2 has come back to haunt us.

It checks out. This was about as much credentials that Joey had when he joined Pegasus’ tourney. I mean, Joey trained with Grandpa but Grandpa full on died in the middle of their training so...Tristan should have been fine this episode, he’s been interning with card people for like...years.

Anyways, this is where everyone else is.

And Noah decides to try his carrot-under-a-box trick that has so far worked on literally every child he has tried it on.

These kids cannot resist a door to save their lives--and that’s really the whole thing. If they resist the door, then boom, their lives are saved. But nah. Gotta open every door. So they enter, and behind this door is, you guessed it--their favorite place, the ever recurring supervillain of all of Yugioh,

Wow.

Anyways, the fourth of the Big 5 is here and he is a robot that’s gonna do some Russian ballet to the Nutcracker Suite.

Finally, someone who’s strong enough to safely do the ballet alongside Tea.

*I did not watch Gundam, I spent my Torrent days watching Cowboy Bebop and Love Hina and I remember none of it.*

Speaking of, Love Hina--that one probably didn’t age well, didn’t it?

Tristan just digging his own grave for no reason is basically the rest of this episode. Duke Devlin was their out. Duke Devlin has been primed to die for like a full season but then Tristan had to go and fight a giant robot like an idiot. Which is not a sentence I thought I’d be typing about Yugioh, the show about a haunted card game.

PS, I just remembered something. One sec, let me dig this up, something I wrote in S1 that at the time, when everything was about magic and soul snatching, seemed so outlandish that it would never actually happen.

I can’t believe that I predicted myself but at the same time was still just so wrong, because not only do they already have Gundams, they also are card playing Gundams.

This giant VR Gundam could just step on them, right? Like just step on them? I get that would be against Noah’s set of rules but like...

...just a little step.

And what’s even more nuts about this show, is that some things I knew going in, some things you can’t escape just living here on the internet, like Yugi being strapped to a saw at some point (I just didn’t realize it would be from...a clown and would have *such freakin large blades attached*, it was very sudden) and them dueling from the backs of motorcycles (which apparently isn’t even this show. Apparently dueling motorcycles is a spinoff and y’all...kind of disappointed by that). But Gundams? This universe is so zany that Gundams just went completely under the radar.

*this robot casually wearing a jumbo duel disc*

Faced with the reality of none of his friends ever take him seriously, Duke decides to find a weird compromise and asks for double duel. Thing is, this robot also can’t take Duke seriously, and so this super backfires.

Would it in fact simplify everyone’s dating life if we had a 1 in 3 situation? I mean it’s already a mess because we have two 3 in 1′s, but we could balance that right out with a 1 in 3. Then the math will be correct. Balance will be achieved.

And that was how Disaster Serenity sort of stumbled her way onto a dueling platform and killed her brother’s 2nd (3rd) best friend (4th if you count Joey’s rivalry with Kaiba).

Tristan, who’s job as a volunteer janitor is to clean up messes, could not clean up after this Wheeler hot mess.

This is a card now? OK. I see you, product placement. I see why you made Duke Devlin pick up a deck again. Just for this product. That’s fine. At least we did something with Duke Devlin. But we could have maybe used him at any point outside of dungeon dice monsters, ya? Like any point?

Anyway, Serenity explains that if they tell her exactly what to do, they will be fine, so the robot catches wind of this and does this move

Of course. Of course the abandoned warehouse is now full of lava.

Serenity doesn’t even know the rules since she was actually blind until yesterday. She recalls faintly that on the train Tristan told her the rules, and that there were stars on the card that line up with power or whatever. So she looks down at the card and goes “Ah! there are little stars on here!” she plays it, and she realizes that no one has ever told her that sometimes they are placed sideways. Basically Serenity playing this episode as a recently not blind woman would be like me playing cards as someone who fast forwards through all the shuffling.

It’s hard to say if it’s Serenity who caused all this or Tristan who didn’t just let Duke do his one job. Either way, Tristan will absolutely find a way to blame this on Duke until about the point Tristan dies. Between Tristan refusing to play ball with Duke Devlin who is actually a card expert and Serenity playing all of her cards the wrong direction, I’m fully ready for Tristan to die by the end of this episode. Boy had a million chances to just chill and let Duke do his thing so ya, kill him.

Anyways, here’s a desert brought to you by yellow ochre. A LOT of yellow ochre.

Was this also a background for an 80′s space anime?

At some point Nezbitt sat in a boat and watched Kaiba launch what appears to be nuclear missiles at a missile factory. Kaiba did say he needed to throw out the old and start over so like...do Marie Kondo the way you need to do that Marie Kondo thing, Kaiba. This clearly did not bring you joy.

Anyway, lets skip to the good stuff. That’s right this boy: dead because he couldn’t not.

As you all know, I’ve been looking forward to Duke Devlin dying for such a long time now. I’ve been waiting here, tapping my fingers delicately together all Mr Burns-style expecting that the only way they could possibly find a use for Duke Devlin--since they refuse to give him any cards--would be to die.

But guys. I forgot about Tristan.

(bro wants to point out that right above the dungeon dice card was the revive card that would have come in handy right about now.)

Truly unexpected, standing in between Serenity and Duke, the most killable of the Yugioh franchise, Tristan freakin died.

But most importantly, we’re getting very close to death 169 (nice). We skipped 69 proper (a shame) because *somebody* had to kill just a chunk of people at once, Kaiba. So...who’s it gonna be? Probably the Big 5 member who’s cosplaying around as a Sexy Fish? chances are good.

Anyway, if you just got here, we’re in Season 3, if you would like to start at the beginning in S1, click here to read my so many recaps of this show. I cannot believe how much Yugioh content is in this Yugioh show.

[you-and-i-for-forever]

10 Things I Hate About You AU Chapter 9

Fandom: Be More Chill, Dear Evan Hansen

Word count: 4.2k

Feel free the read this on my ao3 instead!

Michael stood outside the hospital room ringing a teddy bear in his hands.

Should he really be here? He didn’t even know Rich that well, besides the fact that he bullied Jeremy. This guy was a huge jerk.

But Michael couldn’t help it. The past few days at school everyone had been gossiping, texting, and tweeting about Rich and the fire. Every single person had a different version of what had happened, but no one was talking about how Rich was doing or when he was coming back to school.

He couldn’t stand the idea of Rich being alone in the hospital, no friends going to visit him.

After school ended, Michael had made a quick stop at home then he drove right to the hospital. The nurse asked for his name, then told him which room Rich’s was and that’s where Michael was now.

Michael inhaled deeply and knocked on the door.

No answer.

Maybe Rich was asleep. Should Michael still go in? Should he wait for Rich to wake up?

Michael opened the door anyway and stepped in anyway. He winced at what he found.

Rich was lying almost completely naked on the bed besides a small sheet covering his crotch for modesty. Horrible, deep red burn marks were scattered across his skin. Blisters had formed on the back of his hands and his entire body looked wet and shiny.

Michael moved his eyes up to Rich’s face, a smattering of small burns ran from his neck up to his cheeks, and locked eyes with him.

“Hey,” Rich said out of the none burned corner of his mouth.

“Hey,” Michael said, trying desperately not to look at the damaged skin.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“You’re not a nurse,” Rich said.

“I’m Michael. We go to school together.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ve had classes together since middle school.” Rich said, not sounding very interested.

“I brought you this,” Michael said, showing off the teddy bear.

“Thanks, I love girly crap,” Rich replied, watching Michael set it down on his nightstand then pulled up a chair to his bedside.

They sat in a short awkward silence.

“What are you doing here?” Rich finally asked

“I-” Michael started, but stopped.

He wondered if he should tell him about the rumors or not.

“Wanted to see how you were,” Michael finished.

Rich blew a large breath out of his nose and tried to readjust himself on the bed.

“Be honest: what are they saying about me at school?”

“Well…it’s a…it’s not great,” Michael said.

“God damn it,” Rich said and closed his eyes, “I screwed everything up.”

“Whaaaaaaat? No!” Michael said

“I burned down a house, I permanently messed up my body, my best friend definitely hates me, and that little bitch is still with him.”

Michael had been sympathetically nodding along with what Rich had been saying until the last part.

“Wait, what was that last thing?”

“This overrated little twink is dating Jake,” Rich said, furrowing his brow as much as he could.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked “Jeremy is one of your problems? Seriously? Right now?!”

“He’s dating Jake!”

Michael stopped, realized something, and started to laugh.

“What?” Rich asked “What?”

Michael laughed until his stomach hurt and Rich looked like he was going to get up and strangle him. When he had finally calmed down from his fit, Michael rested his chin on his hand.

“Dude, you and I got the same problem! Jeremy’s dating Jake!” Michael said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How the hell do we have the same problem?” Rich asked with a bite to his tone.

“Because I like Jeremy! And you like Jake! So, we have the same problem!” Michael said with a large smile.

Michael watched the anger slip from Rich’s face, replaced with fear.

“I don’t like Jake,” Rich said quietly.

“What? Then why the hell do you care if he’s dating someone?”

“I’m not a fucking fag and I only care ‘cause I don’t want Jake to be seen with that fucking virgin,” Rich said through clenched teeth.

“Oh,” Michael said.

Michael never wanted to assume anyone’s sexuality, but he had a feeling Rich might not be telling him the whole truth.

“Well…I’m fucking gay and I like Jeremy, so that’s my problem,” Michael said with a shrug.

“Good for you,” Rich mumbled.

Yet another silence fell between them.

Michael bit the inside of his lip. He had come to try and make Rich feel less lonely, not like shit. Was there a way to actually end on a positive note now?

“Do you want to go to the school dance?” Michael blurted out before he could stop himself.

Why the hell had he just done that? How was that going to help anything?

“Dude, did you not just hear me? I’m. Not. Gay.” Rich said, his lips pulled back to show his teeth.

“As friends!” Michael said, “Just as friends. It seems like it’s gonna be fun and since Jake is probably gonna be going with Jeremy, so maybe you and I should go and hang.”

Rich stared at him for a moment, looking extremely deep in thought.

Michael was absolutely stunned when Rich nodded his head as best as he could.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the whole school already thinks I’m a freak and Jake hates me so might as well,” Rich said with a sad smile.

-

Connor had to stop the small smile the kept trying to creep onto his face all day.

After he and Evan had made out for what felt like hours, they both agreed they should stop, not wanting things to go too far before either of them were ready. They spent the rest of the day talking, playing video games, watching tv, and holding hands.

When it was time for Connor to go home, Evan walked him down to the door.

“Yes,” Evan had said after Connor gave him a short goodbye kiss.

“What?” Connor asked.

“I wanna go to the dance with you.”

Connor had pulled Evan back into another kiss before leaving.

Connor almost sighed thinking about the way Evan had looked after that last kiss. Pink cheeks and wide blue eyes.

“Hey, Murphy!”

Connor’s good mood instantly vanished. Jake was sitting in a wheelchair in front of him, pushing a couple 50-dollar bills into his hands.

Jake had broken both his legs from the fall out of the window during the fire and was probably going to be in the wheelchair for weeks.

“Here. This should take care of the flowers, the limo, the tux, everything. Just make sure he gets to the dance.” Jake said.

Connor looked down at the money before shoving it back towards the guy.

“I’m sick of playing your game.”

Jake rolled his eyes and pulled more bills out of his front pocket, counting them quickly, “You sick of 300?”

Connor clenched and unclenched his jaw staring down at the money. It was torture…but he would need it eventually.

He reached out and snatched the money from Jake before giving him a nod and walking away.

-

Jake continued down the hallway after dealing with Connor.

What a weirdo. Why did that guy always have to be so weird about everything?

Jake mentally shrugged and looked at a group of freshman girls all looking at his and shyly waving. He winked and they all giggled and blushed.

He rolled down a small ramp and was about to at a water fountain when he spotted Jeremy.

“Babe! Hey!” Jake called out and caught his boyfriend’s attention.

Jeremy saw Jake and smiled, making his way over to him.

Once Jeremy was close enough, Jake grabbed Jeremy by the cheeks and brought him down for a kiss.

“I can’t believe I didn’t mention it before, but do you want to go to the dance? It seems like it’s gonna be super fun and I haven’t missed one yet.”

Jeremy’s smile quickly faded.

“The rule…I can’t-”

Jake cut him off with another kiss.

“Don’t worry, I already got it covered.” Jake said wiggling his eyebrows before changing the subject, “I’m gonna get a purple tux, it’s definitely my color.”

Jeremy leaned back and had a small, pleased looking smile on his face. Jake grinned back at him. Jeremy really was cute. Jake especially liked his eyes. They were always full of wonder and a little bit of amusement. They reminded him of Rich’s eyes.

Jake completely mentally stopped and sulked. He missed his best friend. After the whole fire thing had all happened, he didn’t care that his house and stuff was gone, he was just worried about Rich.

Jake had been in the hospital for a while, recovering from his injuries but after he got out, he was too scared to go see Rich. Jake had asked a nurse about Rich and she told him about his full body burns. Jake was absolutely horrified. How was he supposed to go face his best friend when it was his party that he had almost killed him? Jake had tried to look for Rich in the fire when it broke out but quickly had to abandon his search when he had been cornered in a room and had to escape through the window.

Jake felt himself start to seethe, just thinking about finding the person who had started the fire and punching the shit out of them for what they did to Rich.

“You ok?” Jeremy asked.

Jake looked up at Jeremy, quickly stopping himself from boiling over.

“Yeah, totally! Can I roll with you to class?” Jake asked, trying to ignore the horrible guilt and rage reawaking in his chest.

-

Evan had waited for Connor after school by his car. Connor had offered to drive him home (or anywhere) whenever he wanted. He waited 20 minutes before he went looking for Connor. After checking his usual haunts, the courtyard and a few bathrooms, Evan passed by a few girls who were crowding around their lockers.

“He just punched that guy right in the face, can you believe that?” One girl said.

“God, he’s such a freak! His sister really needs to put him on a leash.” Another said.

Evan’s shoes squeaked on the ground and one of the girls glanced at him. She immediately turned to the other girls and they all started giggling and speaking in hushed tones. Evan blushed and made his way up a stairwell, knowing where to find Connor now.

On the third floor was the room where detention was held. Evan glanced into the half-empty classroom and saw his environmental studies teacher, Mr. Chapin, talking to a student towards the back. Evan spotted Connor on the other side of the room, with his head on the desk. Evan smiled a little.

Mr. Chapin made his way back to the front of the classroom and Evan walked in.

“Um, sir?” Evan asked in a shy voice “I have some questions about the lesson today.”

“Okay, great. Let me pull up my notes.” Mr. Chapin said with a smile and bent down behind his desk to start pulling out materials from his bag.

Evan glanced over at Connor and found him staring back at him with a surprised expression.

Evan tilted his eyes over to the large, open window and mouthed, “The window.”

Connor raised an eyebrow.

“Window,” He mouthed again.

Mr. Chapin turned around to face him and Evan laughed awkwardly out of fear of being caught.

“I didn’t really understand the part on invasive species,” Evan said.

Evan watched Connor out of the corner of his eye. Mr. Chapin had swiveled his chair to face Evan so Connor silently grabbed his backpack and stood up.

“Oh well, let me grab the list of species, I just need to get the book-” Mr. Chapin started to turn back around. He was going to see Connor.

Evan gasped, loud and sharp, and Mr. Chapin’s head whipped back around to look at him. Evan paused before muttering “Sorry…I thought-felt like a-I-I thought I was going to sneeze.”

Mr. Chapin raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“Also!” Evan interjected before his teacher tried to turn back around, “I was wrong, I, um, actually need help with, uh, pollution control and acid rain.”

“Oh, alright,” Mr. Chapin said with a nod, giving Evan an odd look.

Evan chanced a look up and saw Connor was close to the window, slowing getting up on the cabinets that were just below it.

“I just didn’t really understand what it was all about and, um, wanted to know if you could explain it any further because I really can’t afford to fall behind in your class but I just don’t really understand what it’s all about exactly.” Evan sputtered out in what felt like a second.

“It’s no trouble. You’re really doing really well in my class right now though, Evan. But I’m happy to help if you feel like you need it.”

“Okay, thanks,” Evan said with a nervous smile

“Let’s start by going over the basics first.” Mr. Chapin said and pulled out a red pen to make notes.

Evan glanced up at Connor again. Connor was halfway out the window and onto the fire escape. Evan breathed a small sigh of relief…until Connor’s foot lightly squeaked against the cabinet.

Mr. Chapin frowned and started to adjust to look behind him.

“Mr. Chapin!” Evan slammed his hand down on the desk. He felt his face grow red hot, but he was desperate for Connor not to get caught.

“I just remembered that I have to go!” Evan exclaimed and stood up abruptly. Connor had disappeared down the fire escape.

Evan grabbed his backpack and rushed out the door, face burning. That had been so dumb. Why had he done that? What was even the point of that? He had never done something so stupid before! That’s a lie, but still! What was he thinking? Connor hadn’t even asked him to do that. What if Connor hadn’t wanted to skip detention? Was it really worth maybe getting himself and Connor into trouble just to break him out of detention?

Evan mind went blank when he turned a corner and saw Connor standing there with a small smile on his face. Evan scurried over to him Connor slung an arm over his shoulder.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me sneak out of detention. Very cool.” Connor murmured and led Evan out the door.

“No problem,” Evan said.

“I thought for sure I was busted when I was climbing out that window. So how did you keep him distracted?” Connor asked.

“I dazzled him.” Evan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“How did you know where to find me?” Connor asked.

“Heard some people gossiping in the hallways. Why-why did you punch someone?” Evan asked

Connor was silent. His arm fell from around Evan’s shoulders and he looked away from him.

“Connor?” Evan asked

“Someone…someone said something about us…being gay,” Connor said then huffed. “I didn’t even realize that I had hit him until he was on the ground.”

Evan hummed then fell silent. They walked to the parking lot and got into Connor’s car.

“Do you want to come over to my house?” Connor asked.

“Sure.” Evan smiled.

-

The house was quiet when they entered. Connor had told him that his parents weren’t going to be back to later and Zoe was still at school for band practice. It still felt large and silent. Connor pulled him up to his room then closed the door so they had an even bigger sense of privacy.

Evan’s eyes scanned the room. It was only a little bit bigger than Evan’s bedroom, which was surprising considering the size of the rest of the house. The ceiling was low and slanted so it gave the whole room a sort of attic feel. It was cozy and nice and smelled like Connor. The walls were white and had some posters of bands and movies stuck up here and there. A glass tank with a small green frog sat on top wooden shelves.

“That’s Heath Ledger,” Connor said, pointing at the frog.

Evan smiled and waved at Heath Ledger who croaked at him and hopped around.

A large bookcase filled with figurines and books loomed in the corner. Evan walked straight over to that the started scanning books.

The Book Thief, The Little Prince, The Outsiders, 1948, The Bell Jar, Percy Jackson, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Slaughterhouse-Five, Lord of the Flies, the Harry Potter series.

Evan looked through all the spines and found a children’s book at the end of one shelf.

“Where the Wild Things Are?” Evan asked.

“It was my favorite book as a kid,” Connor said with a shrug.

Evan walked over and sat down next to Connor on the bed.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Evan said.

“Thanks for getting me out of detention,” Connor fired back.

Evan nodded and tried to think of something else to say. This was his first time over at someone’s house in a long time. It was the first time he was at a boy’s house in that kind of way.

Connor scooted closer and put a hand under Evan’s chin to tilt it up. They gazed into each other’s eyes. Connor leaned in and they kissed slowly.

Evan’s eyes flickered closed and he sighed gently. Their mouths moved together and Evan felt dizzy. Connor’s lips were chapped and warm and he breathed through his nose lightly while kissing.

Soon, Evan was laying on his back on the bed. He had his hands resting on Connor’s shoulders and Connor was hovering over him, one hand cupping his cheek, kissing him softly. Evan didn’t know anyone who had ever wanted to kiss him like this before. Evan made a small noise at the thought and pulled Connor down so he was practically laying on top of him. Connor was deceptively heavy for how thin he looked, but his weight was comforting and warm.

Connor smiled into the kiss but then left Evan’s lips to trail kisses down his jaw to his throat.

Oh, Evan liked that. He liked that a lot. He felt himself turn into putty as Connor kissed and lightly sucked at his neck. Evan couldn’t help it and he breathed Connor’s name.

Teeth gently latched onto Evan’s neck for a second before going back to placing small kisses near his collarbone. Evan blushed and started to breathe harder. The way Connor was pressed against him, rubbing his hand up and down Evan’s side, was making his pants feel a little uncomfortable.

Connor ran his lips back up Evan’s neck and started to nibble at his ear. Evan shuttered and let out a breathy moan. He felt Connor’s hand travel down and to where his shirt had ridden up, and start stroking the skin on his hip.

Evan turned his head once Connor stopped pressing little kisses to the shell of his ear. Connor gave him a genuine, dazzling smile and Evan thought his heart might explode. Evan felt the butterflies flutter in his stomach, and he leaned over to kiss Connor more.

Evan thought he felt Connor’s tongue brush against his lips – The bedroom door flew open.

“Connor, did you drink all the -” It was Zoe, holding a milk jug.

She gasped when she saw them.

“Zoe!” Connor sat up and barked her name. Evan’s face felt like it was burning. He thought he might throw up.

“What the hell? What is he doing here?” Zoe said.

“None of your business! Why aren’t you at jazz band or whatever?” Connor stood up and visibly bristled.

Zoe’s face scrunched up in confusion, anger, and a little bit of fear.

“Evan, right?” Zoe looked over at him.

How did she know his name?

“You really shouldn’t be hanging out with him.” She said glaring at Connor.

Evan scrambled up to stand next to Connor. He really, really didn’t want to get in between a sibling feud with the Murphy’s, but he could feel how angry Connor was becoming.

“No it’s okay,” Evan managed to choke out, “we’re friends, we’re just hanging out.”

“Friends?” Zoe asked. Evan couldn’t tell if the skepticism in her voice came from knowing that friends don’t kiss like that or that either Connor or Evan could have friends.

Evan blushed and gulped loudly, “Well you know not friends exactly but we’re, we’re toge- we’re, uh, together, um, right now and we’re okay, uh, thanks.”

Zoe’s eyes flicked between Evan and Connor’s faces before taking a few cautious steps forward. Suddenly, Zoe had her hand wrapped around Evan’s wrist and was quickly tugging him towards the door.

“Come on, you really need to get out of here!” Zoe said.

Evan tried pulling his hand away from her in a panic.

“No really, please it’s okay-” Evan said.

Evan felt Connor grasp his forearm and waist and stood firm.

“Zoe, let go!” Connor growled.

Zoe and Connor were shouting over each other, each pulling at Evan. Evan was begging for Zoe to let him go, his anxiety spiking and his wrist aching. Evan felt like a toy being fought over.

“Evan, you really don’t know what he’s capable of!”

“Don’t touch him!”

“Please, I’m okay really!”

“He’s a monster!”

“He doesn’t like people touching him!”

“Please stop, we’re friends.”

“Have you tried to pull a knife on him yet, Connor?!”

“I swear to god Zoey if you don’t leave right now!”

“Let go please just let go of me please just let- JUST LET GO!” Evan screamed. Zoe finally released her hold and stumbled back a few steps, looking shocked. Connor let go as well, giving Evan some space.

“Connor wouldn’t do that!” Evan said, tears swelling up in his eyes and his body starting to shake, “He’s not like that.”

“Evan-” Zoe started but Evan shook his head.

“He’s not like that.” Evan’s voice broke.

Evan turned away from her and hid his face in hands. Connor enveloped Evan in a hug and squeezed him tight.

“Go away, Zoe.” Connor hissed, sounding absolutely livid.

There was tense silence for several moments, no one moved or said anything, and then Evan heard Zoe shuffled back to the door.

“You’re wrong Evan…He is like that.” Zoe spat, voice sharp.

There was a soft click of the door closing then soft footsteps leading away. Evan relaxed into Connor’s arms and let out a breath he had been holding.

Evan pulled away and went to go sit on the edge of Connor’s bed. He expected Connor to follow him but when Evan looked up, he was still standing in the same spot, staring at the door.

“Connor?” Evan asked

“She’s right, you know.”

Connor turned to him, running his hand through his hair. His face was blotchy and red but he wasn’t crying.

“She’s right,” Connor shrugged, eyes looking anywhere but at Evan.

“What?” Evan asked

“She’s right, I am a mon-” Connor cut off his sentence, looking like he couldn’t bear to finish it.

“Connor, that’s not true,” Evan said.

“It is, it is. You didn’t know me before. I was…I was a monster. I was crazy. I did bad things to Zoe. I screamed and threatened and hit her. Not even like kid stuff, it wasn’t even that long ago.”

Connor started pacing the floor.

“I threw her against walls, beat the shit out of her, threw a glass at her, and she tried to lock herself in the bathroom once and I kicked the door so hard for so long it almost broke off its hinges.”

Connor stopped moving and sat down on the bed, as far away from Evan as possible. He put his head in his hands and rocked back and forth slightly.

“Connor,” Evan said in the gentlest voice he could.

He scooted over and slowly brought his hand up to rub a calming hand over Connor’s back. Connor looked up at him and gave a sorrowful smile. Evan gave him a smile to match.

“I’m a bad person,” Connor whispered.

Evan shook his head and pulled at Connor’s sleeve. Slowly, almost unsure, like this was the first time they had touched each other, they laid back on Connor’s bed. Evan guided Connor down and set his head down on Evan’s chest and Evan brought his hand up to run through Connor’s hair.

“You’re not like that anymore,” Evan whispered, brushing the hair from Connor’s face.

“I still did all those things though. Bad things.” Connor muttered.

“I didn’t know you before. I just know that you signed my cast and send me emails and talk to me and asked me to my first dance and gave me your only tie to wear and were my first kiss and took me to my first party then saved me from a fire. Connor. Bad people don’t do that. They don’t act like you do. You’re so good.” Evan, thankfully, for once, said without stuttering much.

Evan felt like crying but he tried to hold it together. Connor’s breathing became deeper and ragged. He reached up and grasped Evan’s hand.

Connor didn’t say anything.  

He didn’t need to.

Evan kissed the top of his head and laced their fingers together.

[choicesfanatic86]

TTS: In Liam’s Eyes - NY (Part 2)

DISCLAIMER:  All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story.  Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS:  Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY: Liam sees Andy for the first time since she left Cordonia.

If you are new to the series and would like to catch up by reading previous parts, please check out my master fan fiction listing.  CATCH UP HERE

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6/24/18 - Ok guys, this is part 2/3 of Liam’s perspective while in New York.  Remember, dialogue will be the same, I’ve just included Liam’s thoughts. 

 I swear I have it tagged as a long post, and I have a “keep reading” so please don't send me angry messages. :)

As always, just shoot me a message or comment with requests to be added to the permanent tag or story tag. :)

In Liam’s Eyes - NY - Part 2/3

The next day, Bertrand, Maxwell, Drake and Liam were huddled in front of her apartment door awaiting Riley’s return home from the hospital.  Maxwell had assured them repeatedly that she was looking forward to seeing all of them.  He also reminded them that she looked a little beat up considering everything she had been through.  He also warned them that her facial injuries hadn’t healed yet and she was still a bit banged up from her tumble down the stairs.  Liam was beginning to worry about how he would react when he first saw her.  Just listening to Maxwell describe her injuries caused him to become overcome with emotion.  How would he react when he actually saw her in person?

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Drake asked skeptically.  “I mean, I know you said she’s okay and everything, but maybe we should have given her another day to rest before springing the idea of dinner on her.”

“Of course this is a good idea,” Maxwell looked at Drake with confusion.  “Why wouldn’t it be?  Little Blossom is coming home today, Drake.  Of course she’d want to see all of us.  Just think about the look on her face when she sees all of us here together,” he beamed with excitement.

“Oh yeah,” he muttered.  “You mean that look?” Drake said, motioning down the hallway.  “She looks real excited, Maxwell,” Drake said sarcastically.

Liam turned toward the elevators and saw that Riley had a startled look on her face.  It wasn’t a look surprise, more like a look of absolute fear.  He sighed.  That didn’t bode well.  Why on earth had they listened to Maxwell?  The three girls were ambling awkwardly down the hallway toward the apartment they were standing in front of.  He heard Andy shriek angrily, and he immediately closed his eyes in worry.  They hadn’t been expecting them.  He shook his head as he listened to Maxwell and Andy began to bicker back and forth.  There was another young woman with them, and he assumed that was Alicia, the woman he had heard so much about.  He smiled at her softly.  He owed her so much for taking care of Riley through all of this.  She was doing a job that he should have been doing.  

A pang of guilt shot through him once more as he started to realize the severity of his injuries.  Maxwell hadn’t glossed over anything, but hearing about it and seeing it were two separate things.  Seeing the injuries caused him to choke up a bit.  She looked so broken.  The cast on her leg and the bruises on her face stunned him.  Despite all the warnings Maxwell had given him, nothing could prepare him for the sight he saw before him.  His carefree, happy Riley looked so forlorn.   She looked so different than she had in Cordonia when he last saw her.  She was much thinner with dark bruises around her eye and a large gash by her forehead.  She looked gaunt, and frail.  Her coloring didn’t look well either.  She was far too pale.  What had happened to his love?  He’d never seen her look so sick in his life.

“Hey,” she murmured.  She seemed uncomfortable, a bit embarrassed even.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  “Hey,” he said softly.  He took a few steps forward, savoring every moment he could with her.  He had gone two years without her previously, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her every single day.  As awful as those two years were, the last two months were hell without her.  Seeing her, so frail, so weak in front of him now . . . it broke his heart.

“Soooo, shall we take this party inside?” she said.  “I’m fairly certain my neighbors are all looking through their peepholes waiting for some excitement.  This is New York after all,” she chuckled and Liam’s heart thumped wildly in his chest.  He’d missed the sound of her laugh these last few months.  

He watched as Andy and Riley struggled to find the keys to the apartment, and wondered if she were extra nervous because he was here.  Maybe he should have called her first.  Perhaps, she hadn’t wanted to see him at all.  She hadn’t really acknowledged him directly.  His mind was spinning with all sorts of what if scenarios, and it was making him lose his cool.  

“So . . . I guess introductions are in order,” she looked to the men.  “Guys, this is Alicia, she’s a good friend and my assistant,” she motioned to the blonde woman.  Liam had already figured out who she was.  Riley had a close circle of friends, and she had spoken about her a lot during her time in Cordonia.  “Alicia, these are my friends from Europe . . . Bertrand over there is wearing the ever-present scowl, Drake is next to him, Maxwell is Andy’s boyfriend, and . . .” she trailed off, her eyes meeting his once again.  “That’s Liam,” she said softly.  His heart fluttered as their eyes met once again, before she broke the gaze.  He hadn’t been paying any attention to Alicia.  His mind was focused entirely on Riley.  

“So, what’s new?” She asked, and Liam could tell immediately how uncomfortable she was with all of them being there.  He should have insisted they give her more time to settle in, especially having just been released from the hospital.  He had let his own eagerness to see her again cloud his judgment, and now, things were going to be incredibly awkward.  The tension in the air was palpable.

“We’re sorry for the intrusion,” he started to speak. The last thing he wanted was to make her any more uncomfortable.  He wanted to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible.

“I’m not,” he heard Drake cut him off.  “Forget proper etiquette, I had a hard enough time staying away from the hospital,” he said gruffly.  “We’ve been worried sick about you, Lawson.  Couldn’t just stay back and wonder what the hell was going on with you,” he said honestly.

Liam nodded slightly.  Drake had said everything he had been thinking, albeit, in a much more aggressive way than he would have phrased it, but he took the words right out of his mouth.

“I know . . . I know things look really bad right now, but things are going to get better,” she started.  “I’ve been working a lot, and I haven’t been getting much sleep.  Plus my diet was just awful.  I’m turning over a new leaf,” she said optimistically.  

Liam couldn’t help it, but he felt she was keeping something from them.  Surely a poor diet and lack of sleep couldn’t cause as much trouble as she’s gone through.  Not to wind up in the hospital.  He wasn’t a physician, of course, but he imagined that there would have to be some sort of underlying condition to complicate things.

“Lady Riley . . .”

Liam turned toward Bertrand who had a grim look on his face.  Bertrand hadn’t particularly been fond of Riley staying in New York with everything going on.  He’d mentioned several times on the plane ride over that he had hopes of convincing her to return to Cordonia with them until she was well enough to take care of herself again.  He’d even mentioned it last night when Maxwell had come back from the hospital.  Liam knew better than to suggest anything of the sort to her.  Despite wanting her to come back with him, he knew she’d never agree to it.  She was fiercely independent and prided herself on taking care of herself on her own. She hated asking for help, even when it was clear she desperately needed it.  

“I’m pleased to see you up and about,” Bertrand said.  “I second Drake’s sentiments about being quite worried about you, which is why we’re here,” his eyes scanned warily over her apartment.

“Thank you.  All of you, but really, I’m okay,” she started to say once again.  

“But – “

“No buts,” she said sharply.  “You came here to check on me; you came for a visit, so let’s visit.  No more talk about the accident or afterwards.  I’m fine.  The hospital discharged me.  I know what I need to do to get better, so let’s just drop it okay?  And for God’s sake, stop looking around at each other like I’ve gone crazy,” she sighed.  

Liam knew they were moments away from an angry outburst, so he did his best to keep quiet.  There was so much he wanted to say to her.  So much to ask her, but he held it all in.  Now wasn’t the time.  She was clearly upset, and he didn’t want to get into things in front of everyone anyway.  He didn’t want to anger her any further.  Bertrand and Drake had already struck a nerve, and he wouldn’t be joining them in the doghouse.  

“So . . . Who wants Chinese?” Maxwell asked breaking through the awkwardness.

“I could do Chinese,” Andy agreed.

Liam nodded.  He was game for anything as long as it meant he’d get to stay here with Riley.  As they waited for the food to arrive, they engaged in idle chit chat.  Liam only half-listened to the conversations going on around him.  His eyes were intently focused on Riley.  He’d missed her so much over the last two months.  He couldn’t believe how he had allowed his jealousy to get in the way of their relationship.  He’d been so foolish.  All the time he wasted being angry and jealous could have been spent together with her.  Maybe she wouldn’t have ended up in this mess.  Maybe he would have been there to prevent any of this from happening in the first place.

When the food arrived and they all hovered around Riley’s tiny dining table, he couldn’t help but study how she picked at her food.  Chinese probably wasn’t the best food choice for someone who had just been released from the hospital.  Something blander probably would have been better for her, especially if she had been dehydrated and vomiting.  She was barely eating, and she looked utterly exhausted.  She still didn’t look well, and all he had wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and carry her away from all of her troubles.

He wanted to ask her about the hospitalization.  Ask her what the doctors had said.  Suggest that a second opinion might be in order.  He wanted to offer here the services of his own private physician back in Cordonia, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of it because he was so worried that he’d say the wrong thing and lose her for good – if he hadn’t already.

Suddenly, she got up off the table, and clumsily ambled to the bathroom with her crutches.  Everyone was asking her if she needed help and if she was okay.  It was a flurry of activity as she waved them off and stumbled into the bathroom.  Shortly after she closed the door, they heard the sounds of her dry heaving into the toilet.  His eyes looked to the others in confusion, but he was met with equally confused looks, all except Andy and Alicia.

“What’s the matter?” Liam asked in concern, standing up off the table as if to go check on her.

“Her stomach has been a little upset,” Andy said softly, motioning for him to sit down.  “She’ll be fine in a moment,” she assured him.

“Is it from the accident?” Drake asked worriedly.

“No,” Andy said quickly.  “It should get better soon,” she added.

“Jesus,” Drake mumbled.  “It sounds like she’s dying,” he said as the heaving continued.

Liam’s eyes widened as the heaves became louder and longer.  It did sound like she was dying, and he stood up again.  

“Liam, I promise.  She’s okay,” Andy said calmly.  Liam eyed Andy and Maxwell as they exchanged a glance at one another..  They both seemed to know more than they were letting on, and Liam wondered if Riley was keeping a more serious illness from them.

He was relieved to see her return to the table, but she wasn’t the same Riley from earlier.  She returned even more exhausted than before, and a lot paler.  She looked as if she wanted to cry.  She tried to smile, but it came across forced, pained even.  She was trying to be strong for their benefit.  He could see how miserable she was, and he wanted to just take all of her worries away.

“Sorry,” she murmured when she returned to the table.  He watched as she pushed her plate away with a look of disappointment on her face.  It was clear that she wanted to eat . . . she just couldn’t.

“Is that normal?” Drake asked.

“I’m fine,” she waved off their concern.  “I’m okay now,” she murmured quietly.

“So, have you thought about what’s going to happen after Andy comes back?” Drake asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked.  

“How you’re going to get around and work and do everything else,” he motioned around the apartment.

Drake made a valid point.  Liam had been studying her throughout the night, and she wasn’t steady on her feet.  And she couldn’t possibly expect to work with a broken leg.  She needed rest and proper care, none of which she could get here in New York by herself.

“Well, I have Alicia, and really, I only have to stay off my leg for around four to five weeks.  I’ve almost got one week down,” she shrugged.  “I’ll manage.”

Bertrand bristled angrily as he slammed his plastic utensils down in front of him.  Liam knew he had been holding in a lot of his worries and concerns related to Riley’s accident, and it seemed that he could no longer bite his tongue.  “Am I the only one thinking it?” he said angrily.  

Of course, he wasn’t.  Liam’s mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts throughout dinner.  He knew this was serious.  He knew that more needed to be done, but he didn’t want to swoop in and take control of the situation when that was clearly not what she wanted.  Things were awkward and tense enough as is.

“A woman in your condition shouldn’t be by herself,” he shook his head in admonishment.  

“I’m sorry?” she asked.  “What do you mean?”

“You have severe facial injuries and a broken leg.  Lady Andy will be returning with Maxwell to Cordonia, at which time, you will be left with your assistant who is single-handedly keeping your meager source of income afloat.  This apartment is a closet.  You will hardly be able to maneuver by yourself in such a limited amount of space.  This is another disaster waiting to happen, which will force us to fly down here again to assist you.  So really, you’d be doing everyone a great service by simply ending this façade of being an independent woman who can ‘manage.’”

Bertrand was right.  She as doing an excellent job of keeping herself together for their sake, but Liam knew Riley well enough to know that she was falling apart inside.  He desperately wanted to piece her back together, but he just didn’t know how.

“Guys, I’m done talking about things, okay?  I’m fine.  I’m better than fine, okay?  Eventually the bruises and gashes will heal, and I’ll look like me again.  But for now, just stop the coddling,” she sighed.  “You came here to eat, so let’s eat,” she sighed in exasperation.  “I don’t want to talk about going back to Cordonia.  Got it?”

Liam looked at her sadly.  This wasn’t the life he wanted for her.  She should be back in Cordonia by his side.  None of the others pressed the issue any further, and the rest of dinner had been fairly quiet with little to no talking whatsoever.  Perhaps it was better that way.  It would give her a chance to cool down, and maybe, just maybe he’d have a chance to talk to her alone later.

“Who wants to go for some ice cream?” Andy asked the group. “I think ice cream makes everything better, and it’ll be nice to get out of here for a while,” she suggested.

“I’m game!” Alicia said cheerily.

“I think I’ll pass,” Riley murmured.  She looked as if she were ready for bed, but Liam didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity.  If she were going to be by herself, it would be the perfect time to talk to her.  To tell her how sorry he was for everything he said and did.  Maybe it would make things right again, and they could pick things up where they left off.   “I’m really glad I got to spend time with everyone,” she said honestly.  “Sorry . . . for getting so upset.  There’s just so much going on . . . Thank you . . . for being so worried about me, for coming all this way.”

Liam waited patiently as the others said their goodbyes.  He had hoped they wouldn’t linger too long.  He wanted her to get some rest, but he also wanted to be sure that he had ample enough time to talk to her.

“Liam, are you coming?” Maxwell asked, his eyes drifting between Riley and Liam when he noticed that Liam hadn’t moved from his seat on the couch.  Liam snapped out of his daze realizing that it was just he and Maxwell left back in the apartment with Riley.  

He cleared his throat, and stretched his arms over his head.  “Actually, I think I may just go back to the hotel.  Thank you for the lovely invitation, but I’m afraid I’m still a bit jetlagged and I really should check in with Bastien on affairs back home,” he politely explained, still not making any movement to stand up or show any indication of leaving.

Maxwell shot him a look of understanding.  “And you can make it back to the hotel by yourself?” he asked. ��“It took us a while to find their apartment” he began to say.  He noticed Maxwell shoot Riley a quick glance as well.

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out, Maxwell,” he responded a bit impatiently.  His eyes darted back toward Riley momentarily.  “Please don’t let me hold you back from enjoying the rest of your evening.”

Drake popped his head back into the apartment, his eyes meeting Liam’s.  Liam shot Drake a quick shake of his head, letting him know that he wouldn’t be joining them.  Drake turned his attention to Maxwell.  Liam had hoped he had gotten the hint that he wanted to be left alone with Riley so that they could have a chance to talk.

“Are we going or not Maxwell?”

“Right then,” he nodded, shooting a look at Riley.  “I’ll see you both later,” he nodded.  “Call us if you need us,” he added as he closed the door behind him.

He wanted to reach out to her, pull her in his arms and tell her that he loved her.  Let her know that all he wanted to do was take care of her. He wanted to beg her to come back with him, to start over.  To share his life and love with her.  He stood up, letting his eyes scan over her.  God, she was so beautiful.  Even though she was ill, there was still such a quiet beauty about her that he just couldn’t get enough of.  He didn’t want to scare her off, so he waited until she was comfortable enough to say something.  Anything.  He hoped she wouldn’t kick him out.  It would kill him if she asked him to leave.

“Liam . . .,” she trailed off.  “Did you really have work to do?  Back at your hotel?” She asked.

He shook his head nervously, running his hand over the tense muscles at the back of his neck.  “No,” he said quietly.  “I was just hoping to steal a few moments with you.  I believe there’s quite a bit to talk about,” he licked his lips nervously.  

He wouldn’t force her to talk to him, but if she was willing, he’d tell her everything he should have told her two months ago.

“I suppose we do,” she whispered.

“I don’t think I’ve said it tonight, but I’m so happy you’re okay,” he said softly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

There was a silence between them that he absolutely hated.  It was so awkward and tense.  When they were in Cordonia, they spoke about everything and anything.  It had been so easy.  He remembered how wonderful it had felt to lay in bed whispering to one another and their hopes and dreams, how in between conversations, they’d sneak soft kisses and gentle touches in.

“I know things are hard right now, Riley.  I don’t want to complicate things or upset you in any way . . .” he trailed off.  “That wasn’t my intention in coming here.”  He paused, trying to ensure he hadn’t upset her.  He wanted this conversation to start off on the right foot.  He needed her to know that he was worried about her, but didn’t want her to be angry with him.

“Yes, well, I didn’t expect to see you here  . . . considering how things were left between us,” she said honestly.

He flinched at her mention about what had happened.  He wanted to be honest, and tell her that he wasn’t originally going to come, but he didn’t.  Why make things more uncomfortable than they already were?  “I need to apologize for that,” he began, reaching for her hands, but she pulled away from him.

“Don’t,” she muttered.

His heart broke.  She couldn’t even bear to have him touch her.  Clearly, she was a lot angrier than he had anticipated.  He had hoped that by coming here, she’d see how much she meant to him, but he realized then that he had gone too far this time.  He started to lose hope that things could be repaired.  After everything he had put her through, she had finally had enough.  He tried to hide the hurt, but an unhappy frown still sat on his face.  “I wasn’t thinking when we last saw one another,” he admitted.  

“That’s an understatement.” She spat out.  “Liam, you told me to leave.  You spent all our time together fighting for me to stay, and then you tell me to get out of your life over a stupid misunderstanding,” she yelled.  “That was more than not thinking.  That was downright cruel,” she said angrily.

Her words stung.  Cruel.  What a vile word.  He hadn’t meant to be cruel.  He was angry.  And he was hurt, too.  How did he know what to believe?  She wanted so desperately to go back to New York, and he just assumed it was because she wanted to continue things with Paul.  After all, he had flown all the way to Cordonia for her.  They shared a relationship . . . why wouldn’t they?

“You have every right to be angry with me,” he said.  “I should never have treated you that way.  I’m so very sorry, Riley.  I was jealous and angry, and it was wrong of me to take it out on you.  When Bastien told me he saw you kiss him . . . a part of me died inside.  I didn’t want to go through the heartache of losing you again.  I had decided that if you still had feelings for Paul, I wouldn’t stop you.”  

He wanted her to forgive him so badly.  He knew then that he had made a mistake, but maybe he had waited too long to make amends.  Maybe she didn’t care about an apology anymore.  Maybe she didn’t want him anymore.

“I don’t have feelings for Paul.  I didn’t then, and I don’t now,” she said firmly.  “Is that what you thought was going on all this time?  That I was back here playing house with Paul?”

She had a right to be angry, but her words stabbed at him like a knife.  He could admit that’s what he thought was happening at first.  He thought she went right back into Paul’s arms and they were having a good laugh at his expense.  He saw the look in Paul’s eyes the day he came to the Beaumont Estate.  He loved her.  Liam would know, he was certain he had the same look in his own eyes when he looked at her.  

“At first . . . maybe that crossed my mind,” he nodded.  “Then when you got hurt . .  . well of course, I found out that you were alone and struggling with things,” he said sadly.

“I’d never do that to you, Liam.  As mad as I was, I would never hurt you in that way.  God, if you had just given me an opportunity to explain what had actually happened, you’d know that he came onto me.  Not the other way around,” she sighed.  “What Bastien failed to mention was that I had to push him off of me and actually bite him to get him away from me,” she said firmly.  “It was not consensual in any way, shape or form.”

“I was wrong,” he said simply, he bowed his head down in shame.  He should have trusted her.  He should have had faith in her.  Two years ago she had gone to Cordonia blindly, not knowing what to expect, but she had faith in him.  She had faith in the fact that they could possibly have a life together.  It was her faith and trust in him that made him fall in love with her, and he couldn’t even bother to repay her with the same faith and trust.  He’d jumped the gun and destroyed their relationship in the process.

“Liam, I thought we were building something,” she said sadly.  “When I saw that ring . . .”

The ring that was sitting on top of his dresser in the hotel room.  He swallowed hard.  He couldn’t let her think that it was over for him.  He still wanted her.  Wanted them. “We were,” he looked at her longingly.  “I read the letter you left me.”

.  “I was beginning to think you tossed it in the trash,” she shrugged lightly.  “I guess it was my last ditch effort to tell you how I felt before I left.  When I didn’t hear from you, I assumed you either didn’t want to look at it or you had read it and just didn’t care . . .” she sighed.  “I meant every single word I wrote.  I don’t regret anything that happened between us.  I still don’t regret anything.”

His heart swelled, she had wanted him to contact her.  That meant she still loved him, didn’t it?  He had assumed she didn’t want to talk to him.  He assumed a lot of things over the last two months, all of which were very wrong.

“I didn’t know about the letter until the night of your accident,” he said with a bit of regret.  “Had I known . . . I didn’t read it until you were in the hospital for the second time,” he murmured.  “I was foolish to let you leave.  You’re right . . . life is hard . . . love is hard . . . but it’s not worth it unless you work for it.  It’s not meant to be easy.  I should have fought harder for you.  I should have listened.  I made a terrible mistake back in Cordonia, and when I found out about your accident and how sick you were . . . it made me realize how much I loved you.  How much I’m still in love with you.”

There.  He’d said it.  He was still in love with her.  She had to know how he felt about her.  That was the whole purpose of tonight.  He wanted to make sure she understood how much she meant to him.

“Liam, you don’t get to walk back in after you break someone’s heart and think that everything is fine again because you apologized.  These sorts of things can’t just get swept under the rug,” she said firmly.  “You hurt me far deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Riley . . . there’s so much I want to say to you . . . I have so much to apologize for,” he said honestly.  

“Yes, you do,” she narrowed her eyes at him.  “I’ve gone through hell and back because of you, twice now,” she said honestly.  “I can’t survive a third time,” she said frankly.  “You don’t get to come here now . . . not just because I got hurt . . . not just because . . .” Why did she stop?  He wanted to know what she was thinking.  What could she possibly mean by that?  Had the break up really hit her that hard?  He was right to feel guilty.  He had driven her to the state she was in.  He destroyed her emotional state so terribly that it was beginning to affect her physically.  That’s not what he wanted at all.  If all of this was because of him, he’d do his damndest to fix it.  “All of this . . . It’s because of me?”

“Indirectly,” she sighed.

He was confused.  How could it possibly be because of him indirectly?  He frowned.  Something more was going on, and she wasn’t telling him the full story.  He wanted answers.  He was tired of the vague responses he received from Maxwell.  He was tired of the side glances that Andy and Maxwell shared with one another.  He wanted her to tell him the truth.  “Riley, what’s really going on?”

“Don’t change the subject, Liam,” she sighed.

His frown deepened.  He wasn’t changing the subject; he was finally addressing the elephant in the room.  There was something more going on here, and he couldn’t help but feel she was keeping things from him.  “I’m not trying to change the subject.  It all ties in.  You’re hiding something.  Why are you vomiting?” He said angrily.  “At dinner . . . when you left the table . . . it sounded as if you were about to pass out in there.  I thought you’d end up with a return visit to the hospital. It’s worrisome.  It wasn’t the first time,” he narrowed his eyes at her.  “Maxwell mentioned you were throwing up before we left for New York.  He was a bit worried about it.  I am too, for that matter. “

“Liam . . . you’re right . . . ,”

He waited, silently, his eyes never leaving her.

“God, you know what, I’m just going to say it.  There’s no easy way to tell you this . . .”

His heart was pounding inside of him.  He was worried she was going to tell him she had some sort of disease or that she was terminally ill.  She looked as if she was wrestling some major demons, and he couldn’t help but think about all of the possible medical conditions that she could have.  “Riley.  Whatever’s wrong, just say it.  I can handle it,” he said firmly.  He was teetering off the edge, and he needed for her to just say whatever it was because he was about to lose control.

“I-I’m pregnant,” she said softly.

At first, he thought he had misheard her, but as he saw the worry in her eyes, he knew he had heard her correctly.  “What?” he gasped out, standing from the couch.  “What did you just say?”

“I’m pregnant.”  Her voice was louder, clearer this time.

He stared at her in silence.  He slowly closed his eyes, his whole body tensing.  He could feel his jaw clenching.  Pregnant?  Of all the things that had been running through his mind, pregnancy hadn’t even been on the list.  

“Liam . . .” she began, needing to end the awkwardness she suddenly found herself in.

“How?” He asked bracing himself on the arm of her couch as he slowly sat back down.  They’d been careful . . . hadn’t they?  He paused, of course they hadn’t.  He hadn’t used a condom.  He mentally kicked himself for not taking the proper precautions.  He started to pace her living room floor, his head hanging low.  His mind was racing.  

“Well . . . in the usual way,” she sighed.  “We weren’t exactly careful,” she said.

He sighed heavily.  “I honestly hadn’t even thought of protection,” he murmured.  “Things just happened so fast . . . and it had been so long . . .” he looked at her intently.  “I just assumed . . .” he trailed off.  He thought she was on birth control.  Weren’t most women her age on something?  Then again, she hadn’t needed to be on anything.  She told him she hadn’t had sex with Paul.  She hadn’t had sex with anyone since him.  Why would she be on something if she wasn’t sexually active.  God, how could he have been so stupid?  So reckless.

“Neither did I,” she said honestly.  “I wasn’t being responsible.  I was on the depo shot, but I guess I must have missed the last shot because well  . . . here we are,” she trailed off.  “This wasn’t anything I did on purpose,” she added.

He knew she didn’t do this on purpose.  He hadn’t either.  Has he known she wasn’t on anything, he would have used a condom or waited . . . or pulled out . . . or something, anything.  A baby?  God, this couldn’t be happening, not when their relationship was in shambles.  My God, the pregnancy was what was making her so sick.  It wasn’t the accident, it wasn’t some sort of incurable disease, it was their child growing inside of her that was causing her to be so ill.  That’s what she had meant when she said he was indirectly responsible for her medical issues.  He had gotten her pregnant.

“Everything that’s been happening to you . . . the hospitalizations, your fall?”

He watched as her hand ran over her stomach.  She wasn’t even showing yet.  Her stomach was so flat still.  “All because of my little lima bean.”

He nervously squeezed his hands together.  “Lima bean?” He asked, he could feel how dry his throat had become.

“It’s a sort of nickname I came up with.  I have pictures, if you’d like to see them,” she suggested.  

His mind was still running at a mile a minute.  Pictures?  Not right now.  He needed to think.  Looking at the pictures would distract him from figuring out what was going to happen.  They were going to have a baby, and all sorts of arrangements would need to be made.  How could this have happened?  He was beginning to panic, and he couldn’t let her see how freaked out he was.  What was the council going to think?  The people?  He’d been negligent, and now there was a baby on the way.  His baby.  With a woman he wasn’t married to.  Good, respectable kings don’t allow this sort of thing to happen.  How long before she was showing?  Once the swell of her stomach grew, they wouldn’t be able to deny the fact that she was pregnant.

“I know this wasn’t the news you were expecting.  I wasn’t expecting it either,” she shrugged.  “But I’m not going to pretend to be sad or angry about this.  I’m happy about this.  This little lima bean inside of me is ours.  I needed to tell you because you’re this baby’s father.  You have a right to know, and you have a right to decide how you want to proceed from here,” she said nervously.  

“How long have you known?” He asked.  He wasn’t sure why he asked the question.  It didn’t matter how long she had known.  All that mattered now was how they were going to proceed from there.

“I found out the morning after my accident.  Turns out, the lima bean was messing with my body a bit,” she explained.  “I was a bit light-headed, feeling rundown.  Before I knew it I was tumbling down the stairs because of that woozy feeling,” she explained.  “I’m about nine weeks, maybe a little closer to ten.”

Ten weeks . . .just a little over two months pregnant.  He imagined she’d be showing soon.  Didn’t women usually begin to show around the second trimester?  He knew nothing about pregnancy or babies.  This was all so overwhelming.  If she knew for nearly a week, why hadn’t she called him?  She could have easily relayed a message to Maxwell and Maxwell would have been sure to talk to him.  He could have flown down here much sooner.  Perhaps prevent the second hospitalization from happening at all.

“Why didn’t you tell me the moment you found out?  I’ve been worrying for days about you.  Thinking that you had some sort of life-threatening disease,” he bristled.

“I didn’t know what to say,” she replied defensively.  “You told me to leave, Liam.  I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me again . . . let alone this baby.  And now you’re here . . . I just . . . I didn’t know what to do.”

“Is that what you think of me?”  She thought he would abandon his child?  They had loved each other deeply once.  Had she really thought that he was the type of man to abandon his responsibilities?  Of course he wanted to be in his child’s life.  He’d always wanted to be a father . . . he just never thought it would happen.  He wouldn’t allow Madeline to be the mother of his children, and after the divorce, he had accepted the fact that he wouldn’t have an heir.

“I didn’t know what to think after what happened in your study.  I had never seen you so cold . . . so . . . so devoid of any emotional connection.  We made love, day after day.  You proclaimed your love for me.  You talked about marrying me, then bam . . . just like that, it was all gone, and once again you left me in a broken heap.”

He knew he had treated her coldly, but she didn’t realize that he was hurting too.  Despite what Bastien saw not being true, the idea of her kissing Paul had devastated him.  His heart was broken, too.  She wasn’t alone in the heartache.  

An awful thought hit his head, and he instantly felt a bit nauseated.  What if he hadn’t flown down to check on her?  Would she have told him about the pregnancy?  Or would she have kept the baby hidden from him.  She was so angry with him, he suspected that’s just what she had planned to do.  The fear on her face when she first saw him in front of her apartment hadn’t been about seeing him after all that time.  It was because she didn’t want him to find out about the baby.  That had to be it.  “If I hadn’t have come, would you have told me?”  He asked loudly.

“Lower your voice,” she scolded.  “I have neighbors,” she sighed.

He could care less about her neighbors.  He needed her to answer him.  He needed to know the truth.  Would she have kept their child a secret from him?  Would she have deprived him of his right to be a father?  “Answer the question, Riley.  Would you have told me?”

“Y-yes, eventually.” she stuttered.  “Look . . . you’re upset . . . I get it.  I’ve been there,” she said honestly.  “But you need to figure out what kind of role you want to play in this baby’s life.  I don’t expect anything of you.”

He snorted, a displeased look crossing his face.  She didn’t expect anything of him?  Did she really think that he wouldn’t take responsibility for their child?  That he would force her to do all of this on her own?  She obviously knew nothing about him.  After all the time they spent together, all the love they shared . . .she didn’t know what kind of man he truly was.  It devastated him to that she thought so poorly of him.

“I don’t know what to say here, Liam.  I feel like everything I’m saying to you is wrong,” she shrugged.

He sighed heavily, running both of his hands through his hair.  His life had changed as soon as the words had left her lips.  His life was no longer his own.  He had a child to think about, and he would be a part of that child’s life, even if Riley didn’t want him.  He’d make sure that his child would be taken care of.

“So . . . um, I have my first appointment tomorrow, if you’d like to come,” she suggested.  “They’ll probably do an ultrasound . . . maybe hear the baby’s heartbeat.  Talk about what to expect . . .” she trailed off.

“I don’t know how to feel about this,” he said honestly.  “I’m not saying this to hurt you, but I just . . . there’s so much going through my head right now.”  Like how they were going to raise this child on two separate continents.  He’d be a part-time father.  That was the reality of this situation.  He’d never get to see his child, and when he did, he’d be a complete stranger.  He’d miss his or her first smile, first steps, first day of school, birthday parties, graduation . . . he wouldn’t be a permanent figure in his child’s life, because Riley wouldn’t want to leave New York.  She hadn’t wanted to leave because of her business, now with a child on the way, he knew she’d want to leave even less now.  He felt so sick.  He didn’t know what to say or do.  “Give me a chance to catch up, Riley.  I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this.  It’s a lot to take in,” he said honestly.

She nodded, “Liam, I don’t want to hold you hostage over this pregnancy,” she said firmly.  “I am prepared to do this on my own.  Here,” she murmured quietly.  “My appointment is at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.  The address is on this card.  If you want to be a part of the baby’s life, you can come,” she said simply.  “I don’t have time to go back and forth with you about this, Liam.  I need stability.  The baby will need stability.  I need to be able to plan for my future, and his,” she said resolutely.

The baby will need stability.  Her words echoed inside of his head.  He knew that.  He wanted that for his child, but for him, stability meant he and Riley getting married, moving to Cordonia, and sharing their lives together.  Riley had an entirely different idea of what stability meant.  She wanted to stay in New York, with or without his support.  She had made that clear.  There was so much to consider.  How would he bring this to the council?  The monarch was stable, but something like this could cause its stability to waiver, and their enemies could use this as an opportunity to strike against them.  He felt so torn.  On one hand, he wanted to swoop her up in his arms and tell her that everything would be okay.  That they’d figure things out, but he knew that wasn’t the truth.  This pregnancy complicated things.  Astronomically.  In more ways than one.  He felt a wave of emotion run over him.  He knew if he didn’t keep it together, he’d start to cry.

“Like I said, Liam.  I can do this alone.  If this is too much for you . . . or you just aren’t ready to be a father . . . I won’t force you.”

He sighed, taking the card from her hand.  “Just give me a chance to think, Riley,”  he murmured as he stood up.  “I just . . . this is a lot.  A baby,” he said hoarsely.  His baby.  “I should get back to the hotel.  Think about things . . . what this means for me . . . for the monarchy,” he said gruffly.

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.  He knew better than to bring the monarchy up to her.  It had been a sore spot in their relationship since the first social season.  He should have kept that part to himself.  

“Okay, Liam.  You do what you need to do to ensure that your precious Cordonia isn’t too scandalized by this pregnancy,” she said angrily.  “Just leave.  You should remember what those words mean right?  Now, I’m returning the favor.  Get out.”

“Riley,” he said firmly.  He wanted to explain that he hadn’t meant anything by it.  Why couldn’t she understand that he was still trying to process the idea of being a father.  He wasn’t expecting any of this to happen.  He needed time to figure things out.  He needed time to think.  He needed time to breathe.

“Just go,” she snapped.

He looked at her a final time, clutching the business card in his hand.  “Fine,” he muttered before leaving the apartment.  If she wanted him gone, he’d leave, but this wasn’t the end of this discussion.  Once he had time to think, they would need to talk again.  He wasn’t going to allow her to dictate how involved he was going to be with their child.  Whether she liked it or not, they were going to figure out how to get through this together.

[victorineb]

A birthday fic for the lovely and amazing @desperatelyseekingcannibals​. Happy birthday, my dear Max, hope you enjoy <3<3<3

Thanks to @slashyrogue​ for the title, and @tcbook​ and @hotmolasses​ for advice on writing smut scenes (and for generally being amazingly patient and wonderful).

Also on AO3.

Mortimer slid quietly along the hallway and snuck a peek into the waiting room, hoping that no one would notice him in such an undignified act. Not that he didn’t spend all day engaged in what many people would no doubt term undignified acts, but at least those took place behind closed doors. Fortunately, the inhabitants of the waiting room seemed to have their direction focussed on quite another subject – the same subject that had caused Mortimer to sneak around without his shoes on.

Seated on a chair at the far side of the room was quite the most unusual patient Mortimer had seen on these premises (which, not to be uncharitable, was saying something). For a start, he was a man, and this practice was strictly ladies only (other than the doctors, of course). Then there was the matter of his hair, which was the colour of pewter and worn in a thick braid that hung over one shoulder, in a manner which made him look nothing short of a barbarian. Mortimer rather suspected he could fight like one too – despite his unremarkable clothing (rough-looking greatcoat, in a shade of grey to match his hair, untailored trousers, beaten-up workman’s boots), the man had a bearing that suggested impressive strength. A former soldier, was Mortimer’s immediate impression.

None of which explained why this rather intimidating specimen had, about half an hour previously, strode into the practice and demanded an immediate appointment with Mortimer himself. Mortimer squinted at his face, trying to recollect if their paths might ever have crossed previously. It was, Mortimer had to admit, rather an interesting face to examine, all angles and sharp edges, yet with an elegance that put him in mind of an ancient sculpture. Or perhaps an ancient rock face. Interesting or not, though, he had no memories of this man, and no reason to grant him an audience.

It had been rather a routine week so far, though…

Intrigued despite himself, Mortimer slipped back to his office, replaced his shoes, and returned to the waiting room. He first excused himself to Mrs Bellamy and asked for her patience in enduring a short delay to her appointment, for which he received a coquettish pout and a giggle in response. He then crossed to the far wall and offered his hand to his mysterious visitor as he rose from his seat.

“I am Doctor Granville. I believe you insisted upon meeting me somewhat firmly, Mr…?”

“Draco will be fine, Doctor Granville. I don’t stand on ceremony.”

Mortimer couldn’t help allowing a brow to rise at this unusual behaviour but otherwise schooled any reaction behind a polite smile. “Mr Draco then,” he said, unable to make himself give up on an honorific completely, “I am terribly sorry to inform you that I have no appointments available today.”

“I will return tomorrow, in that case.”

“I’m afraid I have no appointments free at all for at least a fortnight.”

“You keep none for emergencies?”

“We are not providers of an emergency service, Mr Draco.”

“I shall return each day in hopes of a cancellation, in that case.”

Mortimer wanted desperately to ask if he had no decent employment during working hours but propriety would not allow the words to pass his lips. Instead, he observed the glint of determination in Draco’s eyes and concluded that he would not be brushed off so easily. Acquiescence seemed to be the surest route to ridding himself of this puzzling individual but it wasn’t in Mortimer’s nature to so easily bow down and give in to men’s desires.

“All right, Mr Draco, I shall make you a deal. I will see each of my patients according to their appointments and you will make no further attempts to interfere with my schedule. In return, if you are still here at the close of the day and have managed not to make any more of a nuisance of yourself than you already have, I will see you in my office. Is that acceptable?”

“More than.” Draco gave a little bow – intended as mockery, Mortimer had no doubt – and retook his seat, crossing his remarkably long legs in front of him with a flourish.

“Well then,” Mortimer said, a little rattled by Draco’s behaviour. He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then turned and fled back to his office, hoping against hope that Mr Draco would get bored of his strange little game and be gone by the time he had finished with his next appointment.

The gods were not smiling upon him today though, not entirely to Mortimer’s surprise. He checked throughout the rest of the day, accompanying a number of his patients back to the waiting room rather than leaving them at his door as usual. And each time he was greeted by a softly-smirking Draco who, on one occasion, actually had the gall to wink at him across the room. At least, Mortimer thought it was a wink, it might have been a spasm.

By the time he bid goodbye to his final scheduled patient of the day, Mortimer was resigned to having to make good on his agreement and trod back to the now-empty waiting room where Draco greeted him with a smile that showed the sharp points of his teeth. Mortimer wondered for a moment just what he had let himself in for, but pulled himself together and gestured at Draco to follow him through to his office.

As they passed through the corridor, Mortimer began to try to discover what this strange man’s business was in coming here. “I must enquire whether you are aware of the nature of our practice here?” he asked.

Draco gave no answer to this, though Mortimer supposed the minute smirk that flashed across his face was answer enough. Still, he forged ahead, wishing for there to be no misunderstanding. “In this clinic we are solely devoted to the treatment of women’s issues.” Mortimer uttered the phrase in a hushed tone for the sake of propriety, knowing even as he did so that it was a ridiculous affectation given that everyone still present in the building was well aware of exactly what kind of treatment he and Doctor Dalrymple provided. Apparently Draco agreed, his smirk fair turning into a leer that made Mortimer’s stomach flip in a most peculiar fashion.

They had reached his door by this point, and Mortimer paused outside it. “Sir,” he stated, riled and concerned by Draco’s reaction, “if you are here to cause trouble or to gather salacious gossip, I will have you removed from the premises without delay.”

Draco help up his hands in a placating gesture. “Calm yourself, Doctor, I mean no offence nor intend anything salacious.” Mortimer had his doubts about that from the way Draco’s accent – something European, thick and honeyed – rolled around the word, but decided it would be easier to hear him out than to call in the police. He had no illusions that he could remove this brute under his own power without serious consequences to his state of being. Instead he opened his office door and ushered Draco inside, gesturing to the chairs opposite his desk for Draco to take one.

Once they were both settled, Mortimer locked his gaze with Draco’s and told him, “I would be most obliged, Mr Draco, if you could state what your intentions actually are in attending this specific practice.”

“Don’t remember me, do you, Doctor Granville?”

Oh, this man was quite infuriating! “Can you not answer a question straight, sir?” Mortimer asked, forgetting his manners in his irritation. “No, I do not recall having seen you in all of my existence.”

“Suppose you see a lot of faces coming and going in your line of work. I’ll try not to be hurt that you’ve forgotten.” Really, the smug expression on Mr Draco’s face was too much, and Mortimer had to grit his teeth in order not to bear them at the impudent way he spoke. Instead, he kept himself together and extrapolated the meaning of Draco’s implications.

“I treated you at some point in the past, is that it?”

“Indeed, Doctor Granville, you saw me in the hospital a couple of years ago. Kept going on about little animals crawling around my body.”

Mortimer squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, steeling himself for the inevitable barrage of mockery.

“You’re a smart one, Doctor, what you said made a lot of sense for anybody willing to listen.” Mortimer’s head snapped up in surprise. “Put me back together almost as good as new, as well. I thought to myself then, if ever my health was in danger, I wouldn’t settle for anyone else’s treatment.”

Mortimer had absolutely no idea what to say to that, having expected derision and instead received more respect and admiration from this man than any other person about his dedication to modern medical practices. He gaped at Draco, he couldn’t help himself, and knew that colour was climbing into his cheeks. Needing to regain control, he chose to ignore the compliment entirely and instead proceed as he might with any normal patient.

“All right, Mr Draco, given that you have gone to such trouble to seek me out, I assume that you are suffering from some difficulty with your health. If you would describe your symptoms, I will determine whether or not you require further examination.”

“As you wish, Doctor. It is… a little embarrassing, I must warn you.”

Mortimer doubted that somehow, but delivered his standard response to anxious patients regardless. “Please, Mr Draco, I can assure you there is nothing you can say that would shock me. Do go on.”

“Well, you see, lately I have been having trouble finishing.”

“Finishing?”

“Sexually, Doctor Granville. I have no trouble rising to the occasion, as it were, but no matter how I try – and I have tried extremely hard, Doctor – I seem unable to bring myself to a satisfying conclusion.”

“I see. That s-sounds extremely upsetting. I am not- not surprised you sought a medical opinion,” Mortimer stuttered out. Perhaps he should have been expecting it – why else would a man insist on being seen in this clinic – but instead he was entirely taken aback. Did this mean… Was Mr Draco asking…

“Your medical opinion, specifically,” Draco said, interrupting Mortimer’s train of thought before it derailed entirely. “Word has spread about the services you offer in this clinic of yours, Doctor Granville. I thought perhaps your talents might stretch to patients of the masculine persuasion.”

Oh. He certainly was asking, then.

“How, um, long have these symptoms been affecting you?” Mortimer asked, deliberately stalling.

“Oh, for quite some time,” Draco responded, entirely unhelpfully.

“Mmm-hmm. And I take it the results are equally unsatisfactory whether you are with a partner or,” Mortimer coughed delicately, “taking matters into your own hand?”

“Would that I had the opportunity to compare, Doctor.”

Mortimer barely kept from rolling his eyes. Clearly questioning this man was going to be of little help. A hands-on approach appeared to be the best strategy – it was Mortimer’s speciality, after all.

“Well then, Mr Draco, since you appear determined to obfuscate, I believe it will be best if we get on with the physical examination.”

“Do with me as you see fit,” Draco said, and really, the man seemed able to make anything sound suggestive, it was quite outrageous. No wonder Mortimer had to scramble to remember how to speak for a moment.

“Ah… yes… well then,” he flailed, trying to pull himself together under Draco’s amused gaze. “If you would just move over to the examination table, we can begin.”

Draco obeyed, thankfully with no more than a cordial nod in Draco’s direction, though the way he moved as he crossed the room was, if anything, more suggestive than his words. He put Mortimer in mind of a big cat; a lion perhaps, all lazy grace and coiled power, shoulders rolling and hips swaying in one fluid curve.

Mortimer couldn’t help but gaze at his progress, before wrapping his professionalism round himself like armour. Never yet had he allowed a pretty face or a flirtatious manner to distract him, and this unsubtle show would not be the first to break him.

“If you would be so good as to remove your clothing below the waist, Mr Draco. I’m afraid I will have to proceed without the usual screen in place, in order for me to observe your responses. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“No problem at all, Doctor.” And indeed, Draco proceeded to remove boots, britches and underclothes in short order, without a hint of the embarrassment to which he earlier referred. Following which, quite to Mortimer’s shock, he shucked off his shirt and vest as well, easing himself onto the table – really more of a lounge chair, with its reclining position and button back – just as naked as the day he was born.

“Don’t want to get stains on anything,” he remarked, his expression aiming at innocence and landing on devilry instead.

Confronted with the long, bronzed line of Draco’s naked form, Mortimer found he could not look away, hoping that his patient assumed he was taking stock of his physical condition for purely medical purposes.

The twinkle in Draco’s eyes suggested he believed that about as much as Mortimer himself. Well, that and the fact that his prodigious length, already half-hard, twitched expectantly under Mortimer’s gaze.

“I, ah, see you were telling the truth regarding your ability to become aroused,” Mortimer said, watching as Draco’s member continued to thicken with something bordering on fascination.

“Dishonesty would have done me little good.”

“Quite.” Mortimer took a deep breath and stretched his hands, considering how best to start. “If I might begin by testing your sensitivity, Mr Draco.”

“You know best, Doctor.”

Mortimer wasn’t quite sure he did, in this situation, but hummed in agreement anyway, and then positioned himself at the side of the table, realising that his normal position at its foot wouldn’t do. Draco’s eyes followed him closely as he did so, and Mortimer felt pinned beneath them, heat rising to his face in a most unprofessional manner. As if to show that he would not be intimidated, he reached out with one finger and gently stroked the underside of Draco’s cock, tracing the ridge that ran the length of it. Draco hissed in response, and his member stiffened fully.

Mortimer couldn’t help his triumphant smile. “How did that feel, Mr Draco?”

“Very pleasant, Doctor Granville.”

Oh, so that was the game. Well then.

“Excellent. Now please, lie as still as you can.” With which, Mortimer took a firm grasp of Draco’s shaft and gave it a few long, dry strokes, just short of too rough. This time, Draco’s response wasn’t a hiss, but a grunt of surprise that turned into a moan as Mortimer grazed the pad of his thumb against his slit, checking for pre-ejaculate. “Hmm, rather dry, is that normal for you?”

Draco shot him a wry look but answered easily enough: “Recently, yes.”

“Ah well, age comes to us all,” Mortimer said, gently thumbing at the rim of Draco’s foreskin.

“I do not – ah – do not think that is the issue.” Draco shifted on the bed a little, perhaps trying to keep his hips from rising.

“No?” Mortimer raised an eyebrow at Draco’s statement. “Well, nevertheless, I believe some lubrication will assist in our examination, if you will excuse me a moment.” He released Draco’s member – noting with amusement the almost imperceptible pout the man gave in response – and went to retrieve one of the small pots of oil he kept discreetly stored near the bed (after all, ladies often also benefited from a little help to ease the way). His patient appeared entirely unperturbed by its appearance, and Mortimer wondered if perhaps his reluctance to discuss partners was less down to their scarcity than to the type of person Draco took to his bed.

The thought caused a little jolt to run down Mortimer’s spine – and not an entirely unpleasant one, either.

He unscrewed the pot and dipped his fingers in, coating his hand liberally as Draco’s eyes tracked his every movement, hard to the point where the head of his dick was turning purple where it emerged from his foreskin. Mortimer thought that it looked almost painful and took mercy on his patient – he was sworn to do no harm, after all – returning his hand to its former position and letting it glide down to the base and back again. Draco’s groan was louder this time, and he grinned wolfishly at Mortimer.

“A great improvement, Doctor. You really do have a gift.”

If only he knew the truth of that statement, Mortimer thought, but kept it to himself and instead returned Draco’s grin with a polite smile of his own. “All in a day’s work, Mr Draco. Now,” he continued, beginning to stroke in earnest, “I understand from what you’ve told me that getting to this point of arousal is not generally problematic for you?”

Draco’s head tipped back against the headrest, exposing the long line of his throat, already beginning to gleam with sweat. “Not generally, no,” he agreed, his last word turning into a moan as Mortimer twisted his hand a little on his upstroke.

“Mmm, and could you describe to me at what point your difficulties begin?” Mortimer’s voice was a little roughened, almost husky, as he questioned Draco, as though it was he becoming aroused by this activity. He cleared his throat, annoyed at himself, and waited for Draco to gather himself enough to respond.

“Usually… usually I seem to – ahh – reach a kind of… kind of plateau,” Draco panted out, words trapped between gasps and moans. “Can’t seem to… to tip over… oh, that’s good, Doc, don’t – ah, don’t stop, ohhh…”

Draco’s hips were bucking in earnest now, and Mortimer decided to take control by laying his unoccupied arm flat against his patient’s torso, pinning him to the bed. This, apparently, excited Draco even more, his moaning becoming louder and more shameless as Mortimer held him down with one hand and continued to stroke and tug with the other.

This display pulled down the last of Mortimer’s defences – there was no point in denying he was as aroused as the man lying under him, his own member straining within his trousers. He couldn’t reach down to take any of the pressure off, and Mortimer realised he was rubbing himself against the frame of the table, matching the rhythm of his strokes up and down Draco’s cock. He felt electrified with desire, entirely blindsided by his effect on this gloriously beautiful man.

He ought to have been watching Draco’s cock, checking for any physical oddities, any abnormal reactions, but any pretences that this was a genuine examination were long abandoned. Instead, Mortimer found he couldn’t drag his eyes from Draco’s face as it contorted with pleasure, mouth slack, breath short, eyes hooded and dark. Through the haze of bliss, Draco seemed to realise Mortimer’s focus had shifted and tilted his head so their eyes connected.

Mortimer couldn’t contain the little exclamation – oh – that escaped as Draco looked deep inside him, and it was enough to bring both he and Draco to climax, sweating and writhing and shouting for the gods, Draco’s pleasure flowing warm and thick across Mortimer’s wrist and down his arm.

Mortimer stroked him through his orgasm, until Draco shuddered with oversensitivity and he released his grip. He found he couldn’t move away though, or form the kind of detached, doctorly pronouncement his patient was no doubt expecting, not with the evidence of his lapse of professionalism spreading warm and wet inside his trousers. Instead, his hands hovered over Draco’s flushed thighs, wanting to touch, wanting to crawl up onto the table and continue to wring those noises from Draco. Wanting Draco to wring them from him in return.

Of course, he did nothing of the sort. It would have been entirely inappropriate.

Though not, perhaps, as inappropriate as what Draco himself said, once he had his breath back.

“So it is true what they say, once you’ve known the touch of divinity nothing will ever compare.” Draco sought out Mortimer’s eyes, which were already widening in shock, and added, “My Lady Aphrodite.”

Well, fuck.

Mortimer briefly considered trying to locate a weapon and battering Draco about the head. But his fighting skills were rusty after several decades quietly hiding amongst humanity and Draco looked alert and formidable despite his post-orgasmic lassitude. Besides, he had been caught fair and square, and he probably should find out how and for what reason before attempting escape.

Mortimer – otherwise known as Aphrodite, goddess of love, pleasure and procreation, former denizen of Mount Olympus, currently on self-approved sabbatical from his divine duties – sighed. “I really thought this disguise was infallible.”

Draco grinned. “It almost was. Zeus knew your general location but you did an admirable job of masking your exact whereabouts. I must commend you.”

“Oh fuck your commendation, how did you find me?”

Draco smirked. Mortimer wanted to punch him. “If only you’d been able to resist the temptation, little goddess. You were safe and sound in your hospitals, trying to convince all those poor, naïve humans about the importance of hygiene. But it was too good, wasn’t it? The prospect of bringing pleasure to so many again. Just couldn’t pass it up, to feel the thrill of it, help those poor women feel good. Just a little touch of your power to ease the way, couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Mortimer sighed. How stupid of him, how arrogant to think he could get away with it unnoticed. Honestly though, how was he, the goddess of love, sex incarnate, supposed to turn down the opportunity to provide orgasms on a regular basis? When Dalrymple had reeled off his nonsense about hysteria during their initial interview, Mortimer had nearly fallen out of his chair at the realisation of what was being offered.

“So the little story about seeing me at the hospital? Your supposed difficulty in climaxing? What was the point of that?”

“I needed you to trust me enough to put your hands on me, Doctor.” Draco raked his eyes along Mortimer’s body, the damp patch in his trousers, shameless now that he had revealed himself. “Only way to be sure you were the one I was sent to find.”

“A neat trick. Did Zeus lend you some magic?”

“Daresay he would have, but it was unnecessary. Your kind always feel different, if only a man cares to pay attention.”

“And you do pay very close attention, don’t you? To my backside in particular, I must note.” Two could play at the shameless game.

“It’s a very fine backside, my Lady, even by divine standards.”

Mortimer rolled his eyes, but let himself grin with it. He had to admit, he’d missed sparring like this – the bumbling doctor routine had been a useful one, but he had been forced to play frightfully earnest at times. Some good, old fashioned flirting was quite a relief after being so buttoned up. In fact, Mortimer decided to take advantage of his regained freedom by climbing up onto the table and settling himself atop Draco’s extremely well-muscled thighs while he continued his interrogation.

Draco, happily, seemed completely unfazed by this, and simply placed his large hands against Mortimer’s hips for support.

“So then, soldier – you are a soldier, yes?”

Draco inclined his head in confirmation.

“Thought so, you seem like a man who would be comfortable with killing. So, what does my father want so urgently of me that he would force one of his toy soldiers out of heaven to hunt me down?”

To his credit, Draco didn’t so much as flinch at the insult. “No force was required, Lady, I volunteered.”

“Bored of eternal quaffing and carousing, were we?”

“A break is nice, little god, but eventually a man grows weary of existence without purpose, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You are quite fascinating, aren’t you Mr Draco? And very good at evading my questions. Once again: why does my father request my presence?”

Draco’s smile turned wry. “A war is coming, my Lady. Olympus is threatened and Zeus demands that all his children do their duty.”

“And I suppose if I don’t come quietly he’ll start chucking lightning bolts into Charing Cross?” Mortimer poked Draco, immediately regretting it – the man’s chest might as well have been a breastplate. “All I wanted was a few hundred years of me time, was that really so much to ask? I’m not even any use in battle – I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He laid his hand flat against Draco’s chest, considering. “And you, Captain? How will they reward you for completing your mission?”

“I will be returned to Elysium, to eternal peace and celebration.”

“How ghastly. I have a better idea,” Mortimer said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Draco’s lips, chasing it with a flick of his tongue. “There, how do you feel?”

“Unsatisfied.”

“Odd. Most people say ‘tingly.’ Let’s try that again.”

This time the kiss was deep, filthy, and several minutes long. By the time it finished, Mortimer had a tight grip on Draco’s braid, Draco an equally strong hold of Mortimer’s much-admired backside, and both were flushed and panting for breath.

Mortimer leaned back a little, in order to look at Draco property. “So?”

“I am not certain tingly quite covers it.”

Mortimer grinned in triumph. “Excellent. Captain Draco, you are now bound to me, unable to leave my side, devoted to me above all others.”

Draco looked entirely unfazed.

“Which means you will attend me in battle, as my captain and consort.”

Draco continued to fail to react.

“I have just stolen you from Zeus himself for my own pleasure! He is not going to be pleased with either of us. Surely you have something to say about that?”

Draco shrugged lightly, and Mortimer once again considered battering him with something heavy. Fortunately, his new paramour finally decided to break his silence. “This means I will spend my foreseeable future fighting when required and fucking when desired?”

“Well… basically, yes.”

“Then I believe Zeus can go fuck himself,” Draco drawled, and dragged Mortimer into another devouring kiss.

Mortimer smiled into it. This one was going to keep him entertained for aeons.

[soccerdrawings]

How To Leave Sport Award Ideas Without Being Noticed | Sport Award Ideas

• Neil Warnock, January – asked about Brexit while sitting in advanced of a “Visit Malaysia” assurance put up by a Cyprus-born administrator to advice armamentarium his 11-nationality Cardiff squad: “I can’t delay to get out, if I’m honest. We’ll be far bigger off out of the blood-soaked thing. In every aspect. Football-wise as well, absolutely. To hell with the blow of the world.”

10 Youth Sports Awards Ideas - sport award ideas | sport award ideas • Ian Holloway, August – calling for football to be played beneath WTO rules. “I don’t anticipate that’s our boys authoritative up that new law. I anticipate that’s bodies cogent us what to do with our game. Now they should stop accomplishing that. I achievement we get out, Brexit, because that’s what bodies are voting for. You cannot accept addition cogent us how to do our own game.”Leading on the year’s added hot-button issue: “Extinction of our chase is acceptable added and added acceptable … the apple is a messed up place. Apple leaders are either benighted or don’t affliction about the ambiance at all. Honestly, I feel like giving up… bodies don’t assume to care.” Lewis Hamilton – who denied afterwards that his jet, £13m car accumulating and £50m Petronas endorsement took the bend off. “I awash my alike a year ago.”Gianni Infantino in June – acclamation Fifa’s assembly two years afterwards he sacked the belief aggregation investigating him. “We angry it around! Fifa has gone from actuality toxic, about criminal, to what it should be: alike with credibility, trust, integrity, equality, and with beastly rights.”His added big bulletin in 2019: abnegation allocution that it was Fifa’s new assurance on Chinese sponsors that led it to bead all beastly rights checks and accolade China the 2021 Club Apple Cup. “There are problems in this world, everywhere, in abounding countries. It is not the mission of Fifa to break the problems of this world.”• Additionally not affairs complaints from beastly rights and belief groups about sportswashing in 2019 – Uefa arch Aleksander Ceferin:a) Explaining why captivation the Europa Alliance final in Azerbaijan was the appropriate affair to do: “Human rights is a botheration in added places too. Does it beggarly the admirers in Baku do not deserve alive football?” And b) reacting to the Apple Anti‑Doping Agency’s alarm for Russia to be bare of Euro 2020 by adjoin Vladimir Putin in St Petersburg. His bulletin to Putin – Uefa stands by Russia because: “I charge say, the Apple Cup was organised perfectly… I do not allege aloof to be nice: I absolutely beggarly it.”Pushing the Fifa belief boundaries too far in 2019: Central African Republic controlling Patrice-Edouard Ngaïssona – banned for six years from all Fifa activities for arch a militia accused of “mass executions, torture, anamorphosis and rapes”. Ngaïssona, on balloon in The Hague in 2020, denies 111 war crimes charges.Was acquainted by Sepp Blatter - aggressive to sue Fifa in July for not giving aback the 60 affluence watches he larboard in his office. “These are my watches, accord me my watches. It’s important for me.” His bigger question: “Why are they angry me for these watches? There is no respect... I’ve accomplished the end of my temper.”José Mourinho – started 2019 out of work, activity viral with an ice-rink faceplant in Russia and a €3.3m tax artifice sentence; concluded it managing Spurs and commendation Nelson Mandela. “Like Mr Mandela said: ‘You never lose, you win or you learn.’ At United I won and I learned. My time afterwards I larboard United, that was a acceptable time for me.”@realDonaldTrump – responding to Megan Rapinoe’s “I’m not activity to the fucking White House” boycott in June by mis-tagging a alternation of rebukes – cogent @meganrapino, a afraid 21-year-old Starbucks agent from Virginia: “Never boldness our country, the White House, or our flag.”• Additionally accepting to him during the USA’s Women’s Apple Cup run: Rapinoe’s examination of the quarter-final, played in Pride month. “Go gays! You can’t win a championship afterwards gays on your aggregation – it’s never been done before, ever. That’s science, appropriate there!”Israel Folau – suing Rugby Australia for “discrimination”. Folau, sacked in May for angle including “hell awaits homosexuals” and gay alliance causes bushfires, claimed £7.4m for corruption of “religious freedom”. Statement: “Mr Folau wants all Australians to apperceive that he does not disregard bigotry of any kind.”Franck Ribéry – administration the acknowledgment aftermost January afterwards he acquaint a video of himself bistro a steak coated in gold. “Let’s alpha with the jealous, the haters, those alone built-in because a condom had a aperture in: f*** your mothers, your grandmothers and alike your ancestors tree. I owe you nothing.” Bayern Munich: “Franck accepts his words were unwise.”Still acceptable on racism: Serie A – cogent “sincere regret” for the “No To Racism” posters they put up this ages featuring monkeys with corrective faces. CEO Luigi De Siervo: “I realise now these were inappropriate. But what cannot be questioned is the strong, connected accusation of racism by Serie A.”• Additionally continuing close in 2019: a) Uefa, allowance Porto of racism in September afterwards a fan claimed he was apropos to himself as a antic aback he led chants of “monkey” while a atramentous amateur lined up a penalty. The fan said: “Everyone in Portugal knows me as Monkey, it’s my nickname. This is an awkward aberration from Uefa.” Uefa accustomed the defence. And b) Downing Street, 10 canicule afterwards Boris Johnson’s win, borderline why racists were activity emboldened: “Racism has no abode in football, and we charge accost this abandoned behaviour. There is added assignment to be done by the football authorities ... We don’t aphorism out demography added steps, if required.”Jack Leach, charwoman his glasses at one end as history abundant at the other. “They bare cleaning. I apperceive I attending brainless aback I am out there. But it got the job done.” See additionally the slow-mo video of the year:

Fun End Of Year Sports Awards Editable - sport award ideas | sport award ideas Came in July: Liverpool FC aggravating to brand the chat “Liverpool”. The bid was agape aback by admiral due to the “geographical acceptation of the city”; the club said it would “continue aggressively to accompany those who illegally accomplishment our bookish property”.Bernard Tomic – fined for not aggravating at Wimbledon again. Tomic appealed to get his £45,000 award-winning money aback afterwards his 58-minute avenue in July; Wimbledon said no. Tomic: “They’re biting me with what they’re saying. I don’t charge the money. It’s aloof about what’s right.”Out of annual aftermost January, Fulham approved a aggregation yoga affair to about-face assignment anatomy and “find peace”. It concluded aboriginal aback Aboubakar Kamara and Aleksandar Mitrovic had to be “dragged apart” – sources cogent the columnist it was triggered aback “Abou started talking during bashful time – a amenity moment. Mitrovic told him to shut up.”Another big year for poppy annual and sad mascots – but viral retweets of Tranmere’s 2017 abounding anatomy poppy had new resonance in 2019.Sebastian Vettel, 32 – swapping the finishing position cards at the Canadian Grand Prix in June afterwards a five-second amends denied him victory. Vettel, who put “1” abutting to his car, and “2” abutting to Lewis Hamilton’s, said: “This is a amiss world. This is not fair.”Italian Serie C club Viterbese – reacting to a five-year ban for vice-president Luciano Camilli for punching action admiral Giorgio La Cava “and blame his legs away”. The club alleged the ban “squalid” and “slander”, alleging Arezzo’s La Cava affronted it by shouting: “You suck, bits fans.” The ban was cut to 20 months on appeal.Came from Zamalek admiral Murtada Mansour in Egypt: burglary Christian Gross in comedy during a 1-1 draw for actuality “a failure, a bones … I went to the bathrobe allowance at half‑time and told the players to avoid him.” Mansour said critics pointing to his man-management almanac – including his 2016 move to appoint “sorcerers” due to three players “being bewitched”, and the actuality that he’s now on his fourth administrator aback burglary Gross in May – should “know this: I’m not some crazy guy.”1) Ex-Notts County buyer Alan “Big Alan” Hardy – aggravating to betrayal “the arbitrary ancillary of fans” in January by announcement screenshots of two adverse tweets from the aforementioned fan, but accidentally announcement a photo of his penis instead.2) @Cristiano – tweeting a private-jet selfie in January on the aforementioned day he was fined £16.6m for tax artifice and Emiliano Sala went missing in a alike crash. Three emojis: smiley face, alike demography off, thumbs up.3) Adidas UK in July, active its #DareToCreate amusing media attack to advance Arsenal’s new kit: auto-generating images of the band featuring the Twitter handles of users who aggregate the hashtag. Adidas said the aftereffect – their official annual tweeting a alternation of racist slurs with the bulletin “welcome to the squad” – was an adventitious corruption “of a personalisation artisan created to acquiesce aflame admirers to get their name on the jersey. We accept angry the functionality off.”4) Fleetwood armchair Andy Pilley, @capboy70, cogent admirers to vote Tory or he’d shut the club down.5) And Welsh Fire candid drillmaster Gary Kirsten, assuming his best activity in October. “Can’t delay for The Hundred Draft and to aces the band on Sunday at 7pm. #TheHundredDraft.”Was lower alliance clubs live-tweeting the colour as able-bodied as the action:1) @lossiemouthfc, April: “8.20pm: Bold delayed briefly while the adjudicator spews in the centre amphitheater … 8.22pm: That’s him done yakking up his tea and we’re on the go again.”2) Berwick Rangers’ @OfficialBRFC, March: “Cowdenbeath decay a bend and Berwick get the adventitious to bright … Ugly scenes in the dugout as Cowdenbeath’s administrator has aloof told Johnny Harvey to ‘take his face for a sh*te’ #BRFC.”3) @sligorovers, February: “9 min. The brawl is kicked out of play, arresting the box of chips endemic by the fan at the Joma sign. Abounding chips abatement to the ground. (0-0).”

10 Best Sport Certificates images | Certificate, Track, field .. | sport award ideas 4) @AFCFylde, October: “80’ There’s a abeyance in comedy as a rather ample man storms the field, topless, with a boutonniere of flowers. (4-0).”5) And @NuneatonBoroFC, activity for a face-palm emoji afterwards their babysitter Tony Breeden came up to booty a amends in November: “61‘ He’s absent and has bankrupt the lights in the terrace. What accept I aloof witnessed.”Sarah Thomas, September – pond the approach and back, afresh back, afresh aback again. The 37-year-old blight survivor from Colorado did it in 54 hours; the avenue was 80 miles, but flat pulls meant she concluded up pond 130. “I got stung in the face by a jellyfish. I’m ambrosial annoyed appropriate now.”Was Sky spotting Huddersfield’s admission administrator Jan Siewert in the directors’ box in January, and activity in for an absolute interview. “It was bizarre,” said Man City fan Martin Warhurst later. “I was sat in the army and aback I was acquainted of a guy advancing appear me from the right. He anticipation I was the manager; I said: ‘No, no, that’s not me. I’m Martin from Wakefield.’”Billy Sharp’s beat boob ambition anniversary in February – his accolade to WWE brilliant Mick Foley’s “Mr Socko”. @RealMickFoley alleged it “TREMENDOUS” and angry up a ages later. Sharp: “After the bold I had 200 texts afresh God knows how abounding on Twitter. Abutting affair I apperceive Mick Foley is accepting breakfast at my house.”National alliance @AFCFylde - ambrosial in February for three youths who “duped our amphitheater anchorperson into allurement for a white Nissan Micra NE14 ABJ to be confused aftermost night”. The boys came forward; Fylde gave them chargeless shirts.Calling it early: three Spurs fans, missing the Champions Alliance improvement at Ajax in May afterwards abrogation the arena aloof afore half-time, cerebration it was abounding time due to actuality “pretty drunk”. James Perkins: “We anticipation we were abrogation at the absolute time.” He said they were “pretty confused” at the base “when no one was stood about us cat-and-mouse for a train”.Came from New Zealand’s Jimmy Neesham, tweeting beeline afterwards their Apple Cup defeat to England in July. @JimmyNeesh: “Kids, don’t booty up sport. Booty up baking or something. Die at 60, absolutely fat and happy.”Was Coco Gauff during her Wimbledon breakthrough. On her self-image: “Weird. Weird, goofy, and, I don’t know. Yeah, awe-inspiring and goofy, I guess.” On her mum’s anniversary dance: “I didn’t acquaint her, but she’s activity to go viral, I know. She’s activity to be a meme.” And on why the best bit of the summer was rapper Jaden Smith tweeting her. “Obviously the tennis is abundant … but I’ve looked up to Jaden for so long. Bodies who chase me apperceive that’s all I column about. It was ambrosial agitative for me.”Among 2019’s regrets: Abundant Britain actuality butterfingers from the men’s 4x400m at the European Athletics Aggregation Championships in August afterwards allotment assets attempt doodle Youcef Zatat in the calendar by mistake; and Telstar striker Jordie van der Laan actuality sacked in May for calling in ailing so he could biking to London to watch Ajax comedy Spurs. Telstar admiral spotted him in the army on TV; Van der Laan said: “It was not my best decision.”Colorado Rapids – cancelling their post-game fireworks in August due to “plague”. Admiral said “the attendance of plague-infested fleas affecting prairie dog colonies” about Dick’s Sporting Goods Park meant the club “had no addition but to cancel”. A Rapids fan in a affliction doctor affectation told the Denver Post. “I assumption we’ll aloof embrace it.”Solid brawl from David Duval at the Open in Royal Portrush in July: birdieing his aboriginal two holes, extensive the 5th one off the lead, afresh hitting a quadruple bogey, a bogey and a nonuple bogey 14 at the par-five 7th afterwards accident two tee shots afresh arena the amiss ball. He accomplished with a 20-over 91, but said he never anticipation about walking away. “If you play, you column your score. Is there some adumbration of embarrassment? I don’t know. What I shot, I put on the board.”2018: David Beckham accepts the Uefa president’s award. “I’m actual honoured, honoured to be here.”2019: Eric Cantona accepts the Uefa president’s award: “As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods, they annihilate us for their sport. Anon science will not alone be able to apathetic the ageing of cells, anon science will fix the beef to the accompaniment and so we will become eternal. Alone accidents, crimes, wars will still annihilate us, but unfortunately, crimes, wars, will multiply. I adulation football. Thank you.”“Wayne Hennessey is ‘desperate’ to apprentice about the Nazis, says Roy Hodgson” – theguardian.com, April. Runner-up: The Times, aftermost week: “West Ham footballer Michail Antonio comatose Lamborghini while dressed as snowman.”Making it big on Twitter in 2019: @visualsatire’s Football Administrator Beard on Politicians. Including acclaimed works “Henry VIII with the beard and earpiece of Phil Brown”, and “Angela Merkel with the face of Steve Bruce”.

Volleyball Certificate Templates | Softball coach .. | sport award ideas Fallon Sherrock, @Fsherrock: “Really active now.... ! I accept done it again.. ! OMG”. Sherrock said this month’s PDC Apple Darts Championship run was “incredible… the actuality that all these bodies are tweeting me, abnormally Billie Jean King. Oh my god... I mean, this is me. I’m aloof a accustomed person.”Defining VAR’s solid admission season: the official @Premierleague annual – agitation online derision in November afterwards Martin Atkinson begin Roberto Firmino’s appropriate nipple gluttonous to accretion an arbitrary advantage: “The red band was accumbent to Firmino’s armpit, which was hardly advanced of the aftermost Villa defender.”• The year’s absolute VAR decision: Bundesliga 2, October – VAR operators spotting a sub who was abating up abaft the ambition had affected a aberrant attempt with his foot, millimetres afore it had gone out of comedy for a goal-kick. The verdict: a amends and chicken card. Teammate Alexander Mühling: “The boy didn’t apperceive that rule. None of us knew that rule.”Was Luis Suárez – hailed for “reaching aiguille Luis Suárez” in Uruguay’s Copa América win over Chile in June after: a) Seeming to address for a handball in the box by the goalkeeper; and b) Reacting to an adversary benumbed a angle face by active appear the adjudicator brandishing an abstract card.Days afterwards Cardiff Met administrator Christian Edwards was taken ill in November, adolescent son Isaac stepped up to alter him with this teamtalk afterwards an bizarre win over Cefn Druids.Katarina Johnson-Thompson, nine canicule afterwards heptathlon gold in October. @JohnsonThompson: “If anyone wants to apperceive how my off division is activity … I’ve been to two karaoke confined in 48 hours. My called songs are Bonnie Tyler ‘Total concealment of the heart’ and Busta Rhymes ‘Look at me now’.”2.1m wholesome angle for this acknowledgment to England’s Candid Apple Cup win.A appropriate accomplishment from Harlequins’ Joe Marler in November – absolutely committing to his metaphor. “We’ve got addition anniversary to get aback on the horse, and booty that horse to the water. And you can ask that horse, you can say: ‘Hey, horsey, do you appetite to accept a alcohol or do you appetite to swim?’ It’s up to that horse to afresh realise what he wants to do in his life. That horse, at the moment, wants to go out on Saturday and he wants to say ‘hello’ to those fans. And he goes : ‘I’m apologetic about the aftereffect aftermost week, but I’m activity to accord a bigger achievement adjoin Bath.’ He’s a hardly Irish horse. So we are attractive forward, like I say, to accepting aback on that horse.” Interviewer: “And are you attractive advanced to accepting aback on the horse?” Marler: “I don’t like horses, I can’t ride.”Headlining 12 months of viral beastly cameos:• Multiple bodies causing time added on, including at Everton v Wolves in February and a Real Salt Lake bold in July at Rio Tinto Amphitheater in the US, area a avoid pitch-invaded aftermost year. • A ailing fox elimination itself on the Oval in July during Surrey v Glamorgan;• A accumulate abolition the Minnesota Twins alert in two nights, authoritative the Twins’ dugout “scatter in fear”. • A bee army sending players to the accommodation at Sri Lanka v South Africa at Chester-le-Street in June. Faf du Plessis: “It is actual funny actually. It’s like someone’s run a apparatus gun through the players.” • Two stags abolition Fort William’s training this month. @Mocko500: “Fort William approved to action them contracts, but they were two deer.” • A awkward first-half possum dabbling Puebla’s cruise to Veracruz in January. Veracruz said the possum was “treated by vets afore abiding to the wild”. • Half a dozen hippos bistro Letaba’s rugby angle in May. The club told South African media: “These boys aloof came up from the river and started grazing.” • And the purest ambition anniversary of 2019 – a deer hitting the net, afresh dancing away. 20.8m views.Was Freddie, accepting his life-changing aboriginal attending central Goodison Park.Also causing “something in my eye” tweets in 2019:• David Martin adhering dad Alvin afterwards his West Ham admission at 33; • Tearful tennis adept Nicolas Mahut actuality consoled by his adolescent son in June afterwards defeat at Roland Garros to Leonardo Mayer, who additionally larboard in tears; • And Jordan Henderson with his dad Brian in June afterwards the Champions Alliance final. Brian, a blight survivor, said later: “When he was 12 I took him to the Champions Alliance final, and aback they came out to the Champions Alliance music he said: ‘Dad, I’m activity to comedy it one day.’ Not alone already but twice, and now he’s won one. So the tears come, you alpha shaking, you grab the wife, you grab the daughter-in-law, you grab anybody that’s about you. I’m aloof so happy.”Going the added mile: Duncan Ferguson’s Everton ambition celebrators; José Mourinho advantageous Callum, 15, with a pasta cafeteria for his abetment adjoin Olympiakos; and this Wimbledon tennis ballboy who, admitting a sustained, shock assimilation from a rogue sprinkler, backward in place, cocked and straight-faced. Until the atomic beam got out.From Rebekah Vardy, asked if she’d confronted Coleen Rooney afterwards their amusing media advancing calm in October. “That would be like arguing with a pigeon. You can acquaint it that you are appropriate and it is wrong, but it’s still activity to bits in your hair.” How To Leave Sport Award Ideas Without Being Noticed | Sport Award Ideas - sport award ideas | Encouraged for you to my personal blog, in this particular time period I'm going to demonstrate with regards to keyword. 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Game 121: Freddy Pharkas: Frontier Pharmacist (1993): Introduction

by Alex

Hello there, dear The Adventure Gamer family. I am back after a long absence to review another game, and another Al Lowe game, but this time it’s not an entry in the Leisure Suit Larry series. No, I’m leaving my polyester pal behind and traveling to the old west to play Freddy Pharkas: Frontier Pharmacist, Mr. Lowe and co.’s 1993 outing in the Sierra adventure game library. There was a CD-ROM version (more on this later), with voices and everything, released in 1994, but I’m playing the DOS version, mainly because I’m not a huge fan of CD-ROM games.

1993 is smack in the middle of the golden age of Sierra adventure games, which I contend lasted until 1996. You might disagree with me, and I’m sure will let me know in the comments below, but that’s what makes life interesting, right? And we all need a little adventure, uncertainty, and chaos in our lives right about now.

Well actually, no. I certainly don’t! Thankfully, I live out in the middle of nowhere, USA, where nothing happens and we like it like that, but life has certainly been adventurous, uncertain, and chaotic enough for me and my family, thank you very much! We’re all fine, and I hope you are too. But with civil society is crumbling all around me, there’s nothing better to do than fire up an old adventure game and blog about it. So here we go.

The last game I blogged about for The Adventure Gamer was Quest for Glory III: Wages of War back in 2018. In the interim, my wife and I had another child, started a business, and I’ve published two novels, with another novel and a non-fiction book set to publish before the year is up. Plus, I got to meet Joe Pranevich in person, which was really cool. But how many adventure games did I play during this time? With the exception of the first two Quest for Glory games with my son, zero. So I’ve been busy. If both my adventure gaming prowess and my writing are rusty, please bear with me as I play myself back into shape.

Freddy Pharkas: Frontier Pharmacist—and I’m sorry, every time I hear the name Pharkas all I can think of is Scott Farkus, the bully who tormented Ralphie, his brother, and their friends in A Christmas Story.

This guy.

Anyway, Freddy Pharkas: Frontier Pharmacist is Al Lowe’s homage to comedy westerns a la Mel Brooks’s popular 1974 comedy Blazing Saddles. Would you believe I have never seen Blazing Saddles? I know Gene Wilder’s in it, there’s a gigantic Indian named Mongo that punches his horse, that Cleavon Little’s character gets called the N-word a lot (which means this movie is probably not long for this world), and that the central bit of humor is a gigantic fart joke.

Al Lowe

So, yes, no wonder Al Lowe wanted to make his own version of it. That sort of humor is right up Lowe’s alley. I didn’t intend that to sound dirty, but since we’re talking about an Al Lowe game, all of our minds immediately went to the gutter (don’t lie).

But Lowe wasn’t alone! Oh no, Lowe designed Freddy Pharkas: Frontier Pharmacist (I’m calling it FPFP from now on because the full title is a real mouthful (fingerful?) to keep on typing) with Josh Mandel. If the name sounds familiar, it’s because he worked on many Sierra games either as a producer, designer, writer, voice actor, artist, or some combination of those roles. Which games? How about Space Quest 6, The Dagger of Amon Ra, King’s Quest V and VI, and EcoQuest: The Search for Cetus. Mandel worked for other companies afterwards, such as Take-Two Interactive and Mattell, but he also lent his voice talents to the fan remakes of the first three King’s Quest games, reunited with Al Lowe on 2013’s Leisure Suit Larry: reloaded, and was a writer on Quest for Glory designer (and sometimes TAG commenter) Lori and Corey Cole’s Quest for Glory quasi-reboot Hero-U: Rogue to Redemption. He was also the model for the coroner in Police Quest III: The Kindred, but the less said about that game, the better.

Josh Mandel

I also think he might like fart jokes.

Before firing up the game, let’s take a look at the manual.

Titled The Modern Day Book of Health and Hygiene, 1881 edition, the manual is presented like an old-time medical—some might say “pseudo-medicine” almanac written by one Hyman J. Lipschitz, M.D., the President of Phrenologists for Health, Enervating Elixers, Longevity, and Mental Energy, aka (sigh) PHEELME.

This guidebook also has a pretty humorous disclaimer on page two:

Note to those people who might think a parody of a quack remedy guide that pretends to be from the 19th Century could really contain factual information but are too stupid to read disclaimers such as this anyway: The information contained herein is absolute and utter balderdash, provided by Sierra On-Line, Inc. for your Entertainment ONLY and to provide information and clues for FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST. Do not take the medications we prescribe. Do not apply the balms and liniments we describe. Do not attempt the procedures we outline. Do not believe that Manual Labor is still the President of Mexico. Nothing within this pamphlet is accurate and truthful, to the best of our ability. We are being entirely facetious. Do not, repeat DO NOT, use this documentation as a real medical guide! It’s a joke! Okay? Get it?

We get it, Al and Josh, we do. Also: the president of Mexico being named Manual Labor is a precursor to the horrible/awesome name puns that pervade this game.

Anyway, this isn’t so much an instruction booklet on how-to-play, but what I’m assuming is a very elaborate form of copy protection. You see, Part 1, the Pharmacopoeia, describes various chemicals that can be used as medicines, and in some cases, how to make them. They are sometimes funny, and clearly some entries are there just for laughs, but I’m getting serious King’s Quest III vibes from this whole thing.

Excerpt from the Pharmacopoeia

Part 2 features “home procedures” for things like acne, broken bones, and constipation (no coronavirus though). There’s also a (sigh) flatulence spectrometer, where the doctor is advised to catch fart gas in a paper bag or something and burn it in a spectroscope to figure out the exact chemical compound of what is causing the patient to have the vapors. Things like lentils, apples ‘n brown sugar-cinnamon, and meaty by-products, along with the cure. This is the level of humor we’re dealing with, people. It’s an Al Lowe game, what should I expect?

Actually, the manual is pretty funny, full of the dry, straight-faced humor we’ve come to expect from Mr. Lowe, and the kind of humor I actually get a kick out of. It reminds me of Mad Magazine, where the humor is stupid and low-brow, but an intelligent kind of stupid and low-brow. You know what I mean, right?

In any event, it’s time to start this game up.

Hello, old friend.

The familiar Sierra fanfare and accompanying logo always give me all sorts of warm and fuzzy feelings, as does the sound and graphical style of the title screen, and I’m particularly excited to delve into Freddy Pharkas (wait, that didn’t come out right . . .) since I’ve never played this game. That’s right! Other than reading about this in Sierra’s InterACTION magazine (Sierra’s version of Nintendo Power) when I was a kid, I have no experience whatsoever with FPFP. I’m playing this blind, and have been looking forward to this for quite some time.

This issue right here—I wish I still had it, but scans of it are available at Al’s site

I decide to check out the game’s prologue, and am treated to a well-written and well-composed Western ballad detailing the life of one former famous gunslinger Freddy Pharkas and how he came to be a one-eared pharmacist in the frontier town of Coarsegold, California, a real town near Sierra’s actual location in Oakhurst, California. Coarsegold was apparently also the setting for Sierra’s 1981 On-Line Adventure #3: Cranston Manor, which TAG reviewer Joe Pranevich is yet to review.

The ballad is quite good and humorous while packing in a lot of backstory (kind of like this post). Al Lowe wrote the music—although future Quest for Glory IV composer Aubrey Hodges is the main composer for this game—and Lowe and Mandel both wrote the lyrics. I’ve reprinted the lyrics below so you understand the game’s premise, interspersed with screenshots from the intro (follow the bouncing ball!)

He was born in old St Louie, By the age of four Dad knew he was the Best little crackshot the West had ever seen. By the time he reached pubescence, He could outshoot all the adolescents West of Durango and north of Abilene.

Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas. Famous gunslingin’ deputy. Freddy Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas, Frontier hero-to-be.

Then one day young Freddy Pharkas Stared at eyes as black and dark as night, the Eyes of an outlaw, well-known throughout the West. Oh, the tough kid’s name was Kenny, And he outdrew Freddy Pharkas, when he Shot Freddy’s ear off to prove who was the best.

Now our hero, Freddy Pharkas, With wounded pride and earless carcass, Vowed to the heavens to give up gunnery. He’d be better off, he reckoned, With the lifelong dream that always beckoned: Pestles, not pistols, and pharmacology.

Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas, Highest score on his S.A.T., Freddy Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas. Five-year college degree.

After Fred matriculated, Got his Ph.D. and graduated, Moved out to Coarsegold and bought a pharmacy. He’s a real prescription writer, And they don’t know he’s an ex-gunfighter, Locked up his mem’ries, repressed them totally.

But his peaceful new survival Soon was shot to hell upon arrival Of Coarsegold’s schoolmarm, the sweet Penelope. She has captured Fred’s affection, But he’s scared he’ll get a huge …rejection, Can’t bear to tell her just what he used to be.

Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas. Frontier Pharmacist bourgeoisie, Freddy Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas. Peerless, earless, and free!

The CD-ROM version is apparently sung by Al Lowe himself, because as he describes on his website, everyone thought he had a “funny voice.” You can read all about it, and listen to the ballad, here.

Act I then begins, making me think this game is going to be chapter-based, and you are taken to Coarsegold’s main street as someone is boarding up a building, where a toothless old coot named Whittlin’ Willy starts to tell you all about ol’ Freddy.

Nope, not sitting on your lap. Not getting anywhere NEAR that lap, thanks.

I gain control of Freddy and check the interface. The standard Sierra point-and-click icons are there (Walk, Look, Action, Speak, Inventory), and I take a moment to click the Action icon on various things, which may-or-may-not have included Freddy’s man-region.

I mean, it’s an Al Lowe game. I kind of had to.

There are no surprises, which works for me as this interface generally works really well. In my inventory I only have the key to Freddy’s pharmacy. I’m looking forward to inventory gags, as Al Lowe’s Leisure Suit Larry V was full of humorous messages—each unique!—when you clicked any item on any other item in your inventory. I hope this attention to detail, and bad jokes, carries over to FPFP.

And of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that there is a (sigh) Golden Balls Saloon.

This humor style, of course, is par for the course and I don’t view it as a negative per se. I groan and cringe at these kinds of jokes, but I actually like them. They’re generally harmless and Al always seemed like a good guy who just like getting a few yuks out of gamers.

Here he is, describing the inspiration for FPFP:

“In 1992, I noticed that there wasn’t a single Western computer game, even though Western movies had been popular off and on for years. But I wanted to make a humorous Western. What sort of Western could be funny? While discussing this with Roberta Williams, I started to say ‘farmer’ but my mouth tried to say ‘rancher’ and out came a tangled mess that kind of sounded like, ‘farmer-cist.’ Hey! A pharmacist? Why not? Thus was born Freddy Pharkas, Frontier Pharmacist!

I think it may well be my funniest game, due in great part to the wit of Josh Mandel. Computer Gaming World called it ‘The Blazing Saddles of computer games’ (see box cover below) which I considered perfect praise since that movie was my inspiration.”

Funniest gmae, huh? I sure hope so! Leisure Suit Larry has its moments, but nothing is really laugh out loud funny. Maybe FPFP will be. We’ll see!

I have high hopes reading this bit of trivia from Josh Mandel:

“Mandel had explained in a commentary the reason why there were so many more jokes in the Floppy Disk version as compared to the CD-ROM version of the game, ‘I had co-designed, directed, produced, and written the floppy version; there were no plans at all, at the time, to produce a CD version. When sales of the floppy version justified a CD version, I was no longer available to produce and direct it, having by then started on SQ6. Al Lowe was then tapped to do the casting and recording of the CD version, but the game already had so much text in it that, when it came time to record the inventory text, Al just stopped—he was, he said, tired of sitting in the sound studio. As I had written the vast majority of the game’s text and dialogue, I pointed out to him that, in the process of cutting roughly 15% of the game’s text from the recording, he’d not only left out many jokes, but many clues and hints as well.’”

And like I said, I’m playing the DOS version, so not only will I not be missing out on “clues and hints,” I’ll be getting all the jokes as well. Oh boy!

Mind you, I have no clue what the plot is, but I’m eager to hop in and see what Coarsegold has to offer. If there are references I don’t get in my posts, please let me know. I’m a medium-sized Western fan. I love the idea and image and aesthetic of cowboys and the American west, I’ve seen several John Wayne and Clint Eastwood movies, and I have some Louis L’Amour paperbacks I need to get around to reading, but I’m no expert or connoisseur of the Western genre. Then again, I’m no expert or connoisseur of the adventure game genre and that doesn’t stop me from writing about, so maybe I have nothing to worry about.

Anyway, time to saddle up and play. See you next time, pardner! Yee haw, yippie-ki-yi-yay, and all that jazz.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-121-freddy-pharkas-frontier-pharmacist-1993-introduction/

[geektified]

New Post has been published on http://www.geektified.com/2017/06/06/the-raw-expose-the-samoa-joe-is-the-modern-day-mr-sandman-edition-6-5-2017/

The Raw Exposé: The Samoa Joe Is The Modern Day Mr. Sandman Edition (6-5-2017)

By: Keila Cash

Hello everyone and welcome to another installment of The Raw Exposé. Tonight’s episode of Monday Night Raw emanated from the Mohegan Sun Arena in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. Last night at Extreme Rules, Samoa Joe outlasted four other men and earned the right to face Brock Lesnar for the Universal Championship at Great Balls of Fire next month. With the main event set in stone, how will the rest of the PPV card shake out over the next few weeks? The answer to that question can be found throughout this blog. Without further ado, let’s dissect tonight’s episode of Raw in no particular order.

  Bray Wyatt kicked off Raw by saying that the beginning of the end is upon us. Wyatt was a mission to punish Finn Bálor, Samoa Joe, Seth Rollins, and Roman Reigns for costing him a chance at the Universal Championship. Therefore, his adversaries would be judged accordingly.

  Reigns made his way to the ring and removed Wyatt from his yard by punching him in the face. The referee told the timekeeper to ring the bell as the opening match officially got underway.

  Roman Reigns defeated Bray Wyatt with a Spear in a hard-hitting and competitive match. This was a gritty battle that went back and forth. The crowd was hot which helped push things over the top. Reigns was heavily booed despite the women and children willing him on.

  The match was sloppy at times due to both men not laying their stuff in all the way. The announcers explained that Wyatt and Reigns weren’t at 100% due to their grueling match at Extreme Rules last night, but the action was still a bit too clunky for my tastes. Minor criticism aside, the match clicked for the most part as there were several counters and near falls that had the crowd on the edge of the seat down the stretch.

  The finish came when Wyatt avoided the Superman Punch only for Reigns to catch him in transition which led to the finish.

  Reigns looked strong while Wyatt continues to look like a false prophet who talks a good game but can never back it up in the ring.

  Kurt Angle reminded Alexa Bliss that she promised Nia Jax a shot at the Raw Women’s Championship after she beat Bayley at Extreme Rules. Therefore, Bliss will defend her title against Jax later tonight.

  Dean Ambrose kicked Elias Samson’s ass and demanded an Intercontinental Championship rematch against The Miz. Miz appeared on the Titantron and denied Ambrose’s request because he had a prior engagement on the docket. The distraction allowed Samson to attack Ambrose before dropping him with a Swinging Neckbreaker.

  I thought Samson was about to get bitched out for the first time since his in-ring debut, but he stood tall once again. His run on the main roster has been successful thus far.

  Samoa Joe is not afraid of Brock Lesnar. In fact, he envied Lesnar and wanted to take everything away from him. That includes his cushy part-time schedule, Paul Heyman, and The Universal Championship.

  Heyman came out to congratulate Joe on his win and stated that Lesnar didn’t fear Joe either. Heyman talked about how he wanted Finn Bálor to face Lesnar for the Universal Title because the story of Bálor playing the role of Rocky Balboa was a license to print money from a storytelling standpoint.

  Joe facing his client is the worst case scenario because Joe doesn’t give a damn about anything but himself. Heyman considered Joe a true badass who shouldn’t be taken lightly. Normally, Lesnar would quell Heyman’s fears because he destroyed the likes of John Cena, The Rock, The Undertaker, and Goldberg with ease. Despite each man’s lofty resume, he knew his Beast would come out on top.

  Joe was a wild card because he would take away a piece of Lesnar’s mystic regardless of the outcome. With that in mind, Heyman vowed that Lesnar would become Joe’s worst-case scenario and wished him the best of luck at Great Balls of Fire the July PPV That Shall Remain Nameless Unless Absolutely Necessary.

  Heyman was about to leave the ring when Joe pulled him aside and had a private conversation that the viewers at home could listen on. Joe politely told Heyman that he was going to choke him out. He wanted Heyman to tell Lesnar that the same thing was going to happen to him before putting him the Coquina Clutch.

  Joe put Heyman to sleep as WWE officials made their way to the ring to break things up. The fans chanted for Lesnar as Joe shouted something on the mic before leaving the ring.

  This was a great segment that made Joe look like an absolute badass. I loved the directorial touch of letting the viewers at home listen in on the conversation between Joe and Heyman while the live crowd wondered what was going on. It made the actual attack stand out even more.

  Lesnar is scheduled to appear on next week’s show and only can assume that he will be out for blood. The Joe-Lesnar confrontation should be quite the spectacle, to say the least.

  Sheamus and Cesaro defeated Heath Slater and Rhyno when Sheamus nailed Slater with the Brogue Kick for the quick and decisive win.

  TJP defeated Mustafa Ali with the Detonation Kick after he countered Ali’s Inverted 450 Splash by knocking him off the top rope. The match was nothing to write home about and the crowd was dead for the most part as well.

  After the match was over, Neville appeared on the main stage and was about to tell TJP that he wasn’t getting a shot at the Cruiserweight Championship. TJP cut him off mid-sentence and wanted to talk to Kurt Angle, but Neville attacked him from behind. He told TJP that he will get his title shot tomorrow night on 205 Live as the segment came to an end.

  It’s safe to assume that the TJP-Neville partnership has come to an abrupt and unsurprising end. Is TJP a babyface once again or is he stuck in limbo without a clear sense of direction? I am placing my bets on the latter.

  Alexa Bliss is trying to form her own Welcoming Committee a la SmackDown Live by recruiting Mickie James and Dana Brooke to do her dirty work. Let’s just say that her plan backfired big time.

  The Kurt Angle-Corey Graves mystery continues as they had another private conversation about…something.

  Kalisto defeated Titus O’Neil with a roll-up while grabbing the tights for extra leverage. The match was serviceable for the most part.

  While Miz and Maryse were walking backstage, the camera cut to Big Cass lying on the floor with a steel pipe on the top of his back. Enzo Amore came to his aid and asked Cass what happened. Cass handed him a chain as some sort of clue. It should be noted that The Revival was shown backstage moments before the attack. I guess Cass is cleared as a suspect unless he set the whole thing up.

  After the commercial break, Enzo told Cass that he recognized the chain because he saw it during the two previous attacks. He was about to say something else, but the referee told Enzo that he needed to find another tag team partner because Cass wasn’t medically cleared to compete. The plot thickens!

  The Miz just took out a dancing bear and grandfather clock due to his paranoia that Dean Ambrose was out to get him.

  The latter gift caused Maryse to run out on Miz because the grandfather clock was a keepsake from her.

  Miz blamed Ambrose for ruining his championship celebration and called him out. A mysterious cameraman was in the ring filming Miz’s meltdown, but it was really Ambrose in disguise. Miz watching the reveal on the Titantron was a nice touch as Ambrose nailed him with Dirty Deeds before sipping on some champagne as the segment came to an end.

  This was a cute way for Ambrose to get his revenge on Miz as their never ending feud continues. Yay! *Insert Sarcasm Here*

  Big Show no selling Enzo’s antics was great and a little frightening at the same time. Big Show eventually loosened up and channeled his inner Big Cass by cutting a promo with a fake Brooklyn accent.

  Big Show and Enzo Amore defeated Karl Anderson and Luke Gallows when Enzo pinned Anderson with a cross body thanks to an assist from Big Show. The match was fine while it lasted, but Gallows and Anderson being booked like two-bit chumps is hard to watch.

  Big Cass not-so-subtly accused Big Show of attacking him backstage which allowed him to conveniently tag with Enzo. Big Show denied the allegations and said that he would attack someone face-to-face instead of taking the coward’s way out. Cass’ defensiveness continues to be off-putting which keeps him atop of my suspect list.

  Alexa Bliss defeated Nia Jax via Disqualification when Bliss goaded Mickie James and Dana Brooke into a fight at ringside. Jax took her frustration out on Brooke and James and as she took James out with a running avalanche in the corner before dropping Brooke with a Samoan Drop. Bliss ran for the hills as the segment came to an end. The match was pretty nondescript prior to the DQ finish.

  Samoa Joe defeated Seth Rollins when he made Rollins pass out to the Coquina Clutch thanks to an assist from Bray Wyatt. Rollins was about to attempt a frog splash from the top rope when the lights went out in the arena. When the lights came back on, Wyatt was nowhere to be found, but the distraction allowed Joe to choke out Rollins for the win. Raw went off the air with Samoa Joe standing tall while the announcers hyped Brock Lesnar’s return on next week’s show.

  Joe vs. Rollins was solid, but it was pretty one-sided as Joe dominated the action for the most part. Rollins had a few hope spots here and there, but this was the Samoa Joe Show as he continues to gain momentum heading into his Universal Title match against Brock Lesnar at the July PPV that features Balls of Great Fire.

  It appears that Rollins is next name on Wyatt’s hit list, but I can’t muster much enthusiasm for the match because Wyatt is a proven liar. He vowed to destroy Roman Reigns earlier tonight and he failed. It’s hard to get excited about Wyatt vs. Rollins when fans haven’t been given a reason to believe that Wyatt can get the job when it counts most. We shall see how it plays out next week, but my excitement level is hovering around -10 at the moment.

  Overall, I thought this was a disappointing episode of Raw. Outside of the opening match featuring Roman Reigns vs. Bray Wyatt and Samoa Joe choking out Paul Heyman, the rest of the show was pretty bland. The in-ring action was sub par which caused the crowd to mentally check out as the night went on.

  Finn Bálor and The Hardy Boyz were kept off the broadcast for no apparent reason while Bayley licked her wounds from home. Their absence bogged down an already dreary show.

  Normally, the Raw after a major PPV is supposed to generate excitement and buzz amongst the fan base. That was not the case tonight as the show was a chore to get through. Hopefully, Lesnar and Joe will liven things up next week because everything underneath them is a hot ass mess.

  The flagship show continues to slog through the proverbial mud. The red brand feels lifeless and directionless at the moment. Outside of the Takeover special in Chicago a few weeks ago, WWE is 0-3 when it comes to putting on decent to good brand exclusive PPVs. Here’s hoping the Jerry Lee Lewis Summer Spectacular reverses this troubling trend as SummerSlam looms on the horizon. Fingers crossed!

  On that note, this wraps up another edition of The Raw Exposé. I hope you enjoyed it and I will be back tomorrow night with a brand new installment of The SmackDown Files. See you later, boys and girls!