#but in the “yes thats true but Not For Me!!!” way thats absolutely exhausting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

your-local-grinning-cat · 7 months ago

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I want to be transparent here, because that’s the whole point of this thing:

I do not know if her pregnancy was a lie.

She could very well have been pregnant and have had a baby. Thats why, in this post, I said I did not necessarily think it was a lie.

The part about her pregnancy was included to help further showcase how absolutely insane her stalker story was.

However, that being said, because of all the lies she’s told, do I think it’s a possibility that she’s lied about everything up to and including her pregnancy?

To be frank, yes.

Which is part of what she was talking about when she said “they” told her “they” did not believe her when she said she lost her baby. Indicating Leona’s mod once again.

There was no “they” and Leona’s mod was asleep. The only one who had the courage to question her on her pregnancy was ME. NOT LEONA’S MOD.

The rest is under the cut so that once again I don’t make this long and clutter people’s feeds. I wasn’t planning on doing this yet but since I probably won’t get Part 2 out tonight this will have to do.

Because she had posted about her pregnancy, was gone all of a week or two, came back and said she had a healthy baby girl, and then never made any sort of comment again until this so-called “apology” post, where she suddenly came forward and said that the loss of her child and her using ballet to cope was her excuse as to why she was acting like a terrible person. Note that she started with the ballet too - and that it’s Russian ballet. Because being half Russian for her is obviously very important - not the child. She has her priorities. Also note that, while I will not include them here, when she finally came online and started yelling at us?

She never once mentioned the baby. That line of reasoning was dropped completely until her explanation post on her Malleus blog.

I was going to save this for Part 2 (and probably 3-4 considering how many receipts I have dear god help me-) but I am SO EXHAUSTED that I don’t think I’m going to be managing to post that fully today. I’m going to take a break, vibe with Leona’s mod and Castor’s mod, and then go back to bed.

So, I’ll just post this and post the rest tomorrow.

Her apology has been posted, her response to being called out has been posted, but my, and a few others, original callout to her apology has not been (I do not believe). I’m putting it out there. I’m being transparent so she can’t say I’m hiding shit.

Because I’m not.

I did question her story about losing her baby. I also said that if it was true, she had my sympathy… but that reasoning was not good enough for her actions that had been going on for far longer than just now.

I will post the original apology from her as a reminder, a few “nonpology” things that match it, and then the original responses to her before she finally came online and saw them.

My original response:

Backed up and supported:

So did I question the loss of her child?

Yes, I did. I’m not going to deny that.

I’m trying to be transparent, which means presenting the full story.

And the full story is: I questioned the validity of her statement because she has given me no reason to trust her.

Now again, I have more things to share - though a LOT of it at this point is rehashing. But! My other parts include the proof that Leona’s mod was asleep during all of this and did not in any way ask for it.

But I can leave you and sneak preview for that 💜

The Ultimate Compilation Callout

Hey Guys! AR OOC once again to say I am 100% done.

I'm done with this. I thought it was finally dying down and the drama was finally getting to be over with but then she came back and is now trying to say that we are the ones in the wrong. And she is STILL trying to blame Leona's mod when, as both @/castaway-achlys and I have stated numerous times at this point, they were asleep during the entire event. They did not ask for us to defend them. We were both just tired of hearing our friend be exhausted and stressed out by her.

And the fact that so many people have come out to give their own experiences of her being rude and cruel to them just proves this is not a singular event.

I'm putting all this under a cut because it's gonna get long guys. In fact, I’m probably going to end up needing to create a couple reblog chains to get it all out.

But I'm done playing nice. I have all the receipts. Like I went allllll the way back to when the discord was first created. I caught her in her first lie.

Which, coincidentally, her very first lie in the Discord server happened on the very first day it was formed. What a way to start.

I call her the Malleus mod as an identifier in these screenshots, because unlike her, I am not petty enough to reveal peoples’ personal information on the internet just because I don’t like them.

HOWEVER. I will remind everyone that she is not JUST the owner of the Malleus account. Even if you don’t want to look under the read more because there are a LOT of receipts, know that these are all her known blogs.

I do not condone harassment. Harassment is basically what started all this. Just block and go.

Malleus Draconia @/therealmalleusdraconia

Falena Kingscholar @/the-falena-kingscholar

Aijuka (A Leona gf OC) @/the-one-aijuka

Jack Howl @/frosh-jack-howl

Fellow Honest @/fellow-honest

Meleanor Draconia @/meleanor-draconia

Baul Zigvolt @/baul-zigvolt

Sebek’s Mother @/thethickestone

Marja Felmier @/marja-felmier

And her latest: Eric Venue @/ericvenue

(Bonus non-rp blog @/thetwistedminds)

Before we get too far into it I will say there is a slight color code! But only a tiny one!

Gross light green color - look at that lie! 👀

Gross darker green color - a lie is revealed! 🤭

Orange - note the date/time! 🗓️⏰

Let me show you what I mean in the lie I’ve already mentioned - her very first one. :)

There we have the orange, telling you to note the date. That’s because I was wanting to make sure it was known that the pet posts were made on the same date that the discord was created.

And then we have the gross light green around Malleus mod claiming that this bunny is her bunny and that it was her bunny’s birthday recently.

Now here is the follow up with the gross darker green of a lie revealed. 😌

And there we have it! The color coding system and her very first lie told the very first day the Discord channel was active and easily disproven with an image search.

Now let’s get into the FUN STUFF! /sarc

We’re going to be doing some rehashing here but I’m also going to probably be including some new things so stay with me folks! This’ll be a ride! Buckle up!

So, originally I was thinking I'd start with the current drama. But considering that a lot of that has already been covered and what hasn't been covered needs more context, I'm just going to keep going in chronological order, I guess.

I've been up for over 24 hours compiling receipts, editing them to protect IDs, and then getting them all sorted so let's finally do this so I can pass out!

First up is something that actually has been covered a bit but I'm going to expand on it slightly - her blatant lie to @/elysia-nsimp (I'm not tagging anyone because I'm not forcing anyone to get notifications on this lmao).

Here's what everyone has already seen. But to expand on the event, we didn't call her out on her bad behavior, even though we probably should have as she had just lied straight to another mod's face about her blog ownership. I simply DM'd the mod in question privately to make sure they were okay and then tried to keep the peace in the main chat.

Because, believe it or not with this major callout post, I don't generally like confrontation. But I stepped in there for Elysia and I stepped up during this for Leona's mod.

Now, later that night, she posts this as if nothing had happened and she hadn't just been told that she needed to work on her roleplaying skills:

Uh huh. Sure. That's your last account. Because you have shown so much self-control when it comes to filling character voids within the twst rp community already. I'll be generous and give you a month before you break.

Now these next ones need a tiny bit of background information and a note: the Malleus mod is German and, as far as we know, lives in Germany. These next pictures are little indicators that she has not experienced the United States at all. These indicators may not seem important now, but they will be in just a little time. So keep them in mind for after the pause.

You cannot tell me anyone who has spent any length of time in the United States has not at least heard of Walmart.

Quick pitstop to say wow! You didn't even make it a month! Congratulations!

Also, note the question from the admin and the pretty obvious passive aggressiveness from me. We were sending plenty of hints that they needed to stop - sometimes coming outright and saying it, sometimes simply implying. Either way, we were all ignored.

She says she's not a mind reader. Well, apparently she's just not a reader period.

Now... a bit of an oddball here. And I want to say I do not necessarily think this is a lie. I am including it for a lie that is coming. The one that I included all those America comments for.

I'm sure you will note that I said that I don't "necessarily think" it's a lie - indicating that I do think it could be a possibility. That would be correct.

She has been lying since day one and, after this doozy of a story I'm about to share with you, I honestly don't know what to believe when it comes to her.

So.. to sum this up...

We went from a cringe ask from an OC account that she didn't want to answer -> the asker wasn't supposed to be on tumblr because they were underage (???) and was trying to date her irl and somehow had all of her information (oh but don't worry guys she deleted the ask!) -> he found her social media accounts and sent her NSFW pictures and started spam liking, demanding pictures of her kids, sent pictures of her at-the-time boyfriend, sent pictures of his family and his kids -> so she blocked him on everything and then started spam creating the rp accounts to see if he did it with other people or if it was just her (...mmmhmmm...) but nope he was only interested in Malleus -> she then apparently moved to America for a bit to crash with her boyfriend because this underage person went to Germany to find he.

Oh, by the way, why was this guy obsessed with her? Oh, he was obsessed with German women. He decided that all German women were pretty. And she's German-Russian! And Russians have intense standards for women you know! After this guy found out she was German AND Russian, I mean... it was only a matter of time before he upped his game to try to find her!

Guys, she's not saying she's too beautiful for her own good - the underage stalker speaks for itself!

Now, since this stalker found her through her Malleus account and was obviously very determined, you would think the first course of action would be to, ya know, delete the Malleus blog. Right?

No, no, no! Then she would have to start all over and, of course, if she switched accounts she would be forced to make a post on her current blog saying what her new blog is and he would just find her there. That's why she's trying to make her other accounts more active than her Malleus account (her Malleus account was still, by far, before all this happened, the most popular of all her rp blogs)!

Can I also mention that in that post announcing her pregnancy ON HER MALLEUS ACCOUNT WHERE SHE SUPPOSEDLY HAS A STALKER, she had tagged ALL OF HER BLOGS AT THE TIME?

But yes, Malleus mod. I definitely believe your story. :)

Please. Please tell me you all can understand why I just cannot find it in me to trust a single word coming out of this woman's mouth.

Especially now that during this whole drama, she has been lying through her teeth and trying to pin the entire blame on Leona's mod.

Now this part is nearly over (thank whatever gods anyone believes in) but let's just post the last few of the "before drama happened" pictures, shall we?

...I'm realizing I didn't underline the part where I called her out for having that many blogs in the gross dark green of a lie caught... oops. This is what happens when you have far too little sleep.

But either way, here is another time when she was called out on a lie of hers. And her little comment at the end means she read it and she acknowledged us.

She just didn't care because it didn't suit her.

~~~~~~

ALRIGHT!

THAT'S THE END OF PART ONE!

Yeah. This is going to come out in PARTS. I can't cover it all in one post because there is a picture limit.

So, I'm going to end up making a reblog chain...

Eventually.

Real talk? I need to sleep. Desperately. It's nearly two in the afternoon where I am and I have not slept yet.

Do not underestimate the power of spite and my loyalty to my friends. Both are very strong motivators.

But my body's needs are finally winning.

When I wake up, I'll have the Ultimate Drama Arc to post and expand upon and then the Return of the Drama Arc.

Yay. (said in the most unenthused voice ever lmao)

Anyway. Enjoy all this. I'm gonna go die. /j

#this is the full story #I am not hiding #and now #to log off #and just relax with my friends #because this has been stressful as FUCK #and we deserve it #ar speaks #ar speaks ooc #twst rp

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absolutebl · 3 years ago

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what's your opinion on homophobic actors ? for example the love by chance cast and their scandal with earth? there might be other homophobic ones idk about but I was just using that as a example I still want you're overall thoughts! would you still watch their stuff? or follow them? or another example actors admiting they used bl as a way for clout some people think thats okay and its justified would you agree?

BL Actor Homophobia

Oh boy. I don't really follow actor drama. Or I try not to. And I kinda don’t want do this, but I guess I should do a sort of official statement thingy. Since this fun silly side blog of mine has sort of gotten bloated and out of my control.

Like the giant peach.

ALT

In general, I think it's difficult to understand any celebrity's actual feelings on anything.

Sometimes it may not be safe for them to express their true opinion, because of image, brand, business, studio, agency, management, or family concerns or constraints. They may be more supportive or less supportive than we will ever know. Anything that approaches bullying is going to be even more complex because there are so many elements, perspectives, and entities involved. (Although I will always side with the victim.)

With regards to interview, vlog, or variety show missteps and misspeaks, a lot of BL actors are BABIES, like so young. Tell me you didn't make a stupid fucking idiot statement when you were in your late teens and early 20s. Well, you CAN tell me you didn't, but I won't believe you. I certainly did. I was a pretty lousy human for a while. Queer af but still lousy.

And a bunch of queers from other countries jumping in and attacking is surely going to change baby boy’s tiny mind... right? Yeah, no. No, it’s not. Multiple studies have shown that attacking someone only drives them into a corner and hardens their sentiments.

Honestly? I don't think it's ever a good idea to make a hero out of an actor... they are, after all, ACTORS. I mean, come on, you must have meet some of the breed?

Make a hero of the BL character he portrayed, certainly! But not the actor for goodness sake. He’s only an actor, after all.

Celebrity turns people... odd. Or maybe it's just that the type of personality that seeks celebrity is innately suspicious? At least to this curmudgeonly introvert. (The fact that I all too often end up dating the fuckers is my terrible judgement and wicked bad taste.)

Where was I?

In most of these cases netizens take everything out of context, or at the very least hugely exaggerate. People pick camps. Yes there are certainly bad apples, but I think about this with kpop a lot, sometimes it's all shades of grey and no celebrity is as evil, or as good, as we want them to be. They're mostly just gloriously shiny narcissistic pricks (affectionate).

Particularly with something like homophobia, the context of identity (or identity erasure or abuse) is very culture specific. With BL we are often talking about places where, until recently, they didn’t even have a word for gay. I don't like to get outraged in general, it's exhausting. But to get outraged about something that some pretty kid said or did, in a language I don't speak, born and raised in a culture I did not grow up in, to a family dynamic I cannot comprehend?

It seems like, considering all the grey areas, I am not really equip to judge.

It's not the same thing, but I'm a long time melody and I often think about what happened to Ilhoon. As an outsider what he went through seems absolutely insane. But I've never lived in South Korea. What the hell do I know? I can only make a judgement call from my safe little nest where (currently) weed is legal and has been for ages. I guess, at the very least being in Kpop should have taught Ilhoon how to be careful enough not to get caught?

And I guess that's were I do judge.

If the actor is homophobic (by any standards), and acts in BLs, at the very least he shouldn't have gotten his tiny hypocritical arse caught out, now should he? Tut tut on the brand management, fella. Practice a little circumspection.

Oof. My cynic is showing.

Look, I’m not that bad, I’m just an old tired queer. We’ve been fighting a long time. Can’t I pass the buck (or blunt or cock) along?

Mostly when one of these stories crosses my radar I just feel sad. And I don't wanna feel that way around BL (or Kpop for that matter), so I try not to even register it's happening.

Here, you wanna get outraged, get outraged about this:

ALT

There are major cultural issues in play here, and when this kind of thing happens to an idol on the streets of Seoul, I’d venture to say, there’s society wide systemic problems at the root of of this kind of homophobia, that the homophobe’s are manifesting - like symptoms of a disease. Sure you can treat the pox (with a damp wet white towel, perhaps?), but darlings don’t you think it’s about time we developed a vaccine? (And maybe I think that’s kinda what BL and pop culture can do to culture, if it gets normalized enough.)

But currently, with these homophobic incidents? We all lose, and we are all to be pitied because of it.

I love BL because it leads with love, and that’s the best I can practice at this point in my life. Try to talk more about positive BL dramas and less about negative BL actor drama. Try to be a little more loving and a little less outraged.

That’s it, I don’t have a solution, sorry. Just... perseverance, I guess? su su na and all that.

(source)

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uncanny-tranny · 2 years ago

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hey, i know you get a lot of asks but i wondered if hou had any like, light you coukd shine on a situation im going through:

im trans. a genderfuck, a transsexual, blah ect. one of my sister's is trans too and she came out to my parents a bit back. i havent reallg come out. like, my mom knows im trans too but i never talk to her about it and she never asks. im not doing well for a lot of reasons but one of them is that i feel like ill be stuck living with my parents forever as a disabled kid and also my older brother is a transphobic ass and he's allowed to say whatever the fuck he wants. my mom will even agree with him sometimes even tho she claims thats just becaus she feeks she has to support him too, even if she thinks hes going down the wrong path.

to make a long story shorter, my older sister thinks i should be direct with my mom, tell her im trans, let her ask questions and shit, because my sister believes my mom woukd love to support me and im being an idiot for defining my relationshio with my mom around my brother.

but its not just that. like my ass of a brother is part of the issue but also my mom has said transphobic shit to me for ye ars way before she knew i was trans and its?? just. when my sister came out she told me how she wished my sister had waited longer and how it was so exhausting figuring things out and hos she wished my sister wasnts trans because things were going to be si hard and i LOVE being trans and i dont want to feel like my gender is just another burden on my plate. like my mom treats me more like im her therapist than her child half the time and i CANT do it. i dont want to talk to jer about my transness, i dont want to "officially" come out even if i am doing shitt on my own. its better than i was constantly around her. i dunno. am i being an ass??? or like overreacting? shoukd i just suck it up and talk with my mom?

You absolutely don't have to talk to her about this, and it's really concerning how you're being treated. I'm really truly sorry, it's fucking tough. Ultimately, it does make sense why you wouldn't talk to her about this, and I don't think it's an overreaction to see that your brother's behaviour is tolerated, I can see how you'd play it safe and assume that that tolerance is a reflection on how your mother feels.

However, please take care of yourself. You don't owe it to your family to bear your heart and soul if you aren't ready, but you owe it to yourself to do what it takes to be able to get through this. It's hard, and I hope nobody downplays how difficult it is to be in that place. But please don't believe that you deserve this, if you think so. It's easy to fall into the trap that how you're treated is how you deserve to be treated, but that's not true. I hope your family can learn to grow, but they shouldn't learn to grow at the expense of you, if that makes sense.

You're entitled to not discussing this, and it sounds like you don't want to, no? That's completely fine and not only fine but understandable. Your transness doesn't depend on your family accepting, understanding, or knowing about it. You'll always have and be entitled to a place in this community, if you'd like it. I'm really proud of you

#ask #anon #trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #i wish i could hug or fist-bump or something for some of y'all #y'all are unironically in my heart and i wish nothing but the best for you #it can get better. that is always a possibility #yes family can grow to accept and support a trans family member...#...but know that the poor treatment you have had/may have had is still real...#...yes your mother can come around to being super accepting and i hope she reaches that point...#...for the sake of you i hope she reaches that basic maturity...#...but know that your pain/grief/anger/sadness/despair/anything else still matters #you deserve the best. i hope you're well #the second paragraph isn't me trying to tell anon what they feel. i just know that being in this situation can be mentally taxing...#...and you end up wondering if you did something to deserve this (you didn't)

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cquackity · 2 years ago

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ok firstly just saw the theme i fucking love it very good. also sorry this got really fucking sappy but indulge me here.

but anyways thes viceduo you are one of my very best friends. from the moment we first started interacting i knew you were going to be one of the nicest, most loyal, funniest motherfuckers on the planet. and thats absolutely proven true. you've been there for me in some of the most fucked up moments of my year, and have been so supportive and kind the entire time, wanting to protect and fight in my corner, and being a shoulder to cry on when fighting doesn't help.

i think you're a very silly, funny, wonderful person. yes you have no object permanence. yes you fall in lava every other night. yes you cause incidents that make holly consider flying to your house to kill you in your sleep. but thats all part of the theseus zombur viceduo charm.

and you're an incredible writer! casinoroyale is a masterpiece in terms of c!quackity writing. you absolutely put your all into writing that blog, enough to where even when you were going through creative burnout, and replying to threads was exhausting you, those replies were still amazing. every time i get to interact with casino using tmmyrp or latenightmining it's a delight.

you've got a magnetic wonderful personality and i hope you know how valued you are in everyone's lives <3

FUCKi love you dude ☹️❤️ you're one of my best friends too i'm really thankful holly introduced us. o(-( it feels like i've known you way longer than i actually have too. you've been so fucking supportive and patient during my recent creative burnout and helped me a ton by sitting in call with me and writing together and just CHILLIN. it could've been so much harder on me but you just Knew how to help me. honestly i couldn't have come out of it w/out yall. but yeah man you got me in your corner. i'm more than happy to be there it's a comfy corner. and i know it goes both ways too. Like when you pull me out of lava and the minecraft abyss and rewind time in minecraft to save my ass every day

#also Im glad you like the theme.because i simply changed the Header and colors and then passed out for like 3 hours LOL #thanks man <- Whimpering (positive)#asks that broguht a gay little tear to my eye. Tbh #fave #ult fave #thes answers

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fktonofwhatnow · 4 years ago

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ok hold on. acomaf is my fave book out of the whole series (it's mostly out of emotional value, i read it when i was younger and didn't have a real understanding out trauma and abuse only that i saw a character i loved getting out of a bad situation and getting happy) so obviously i didn't mind feysand being endgame and the development all of the characters had. i can accept tamlin turned out like that is realistic due to his trauma, i can accept feyre had to flee because it wasn't right for her, but the thing is after acofs i see no point to feyre leaving tamlin when rhysand ends up doing everything they told us tamlin was evil and unredeemable for. hiding the risks of her pregnancy, putting on shields on her, having feyre need to compromise over it. i honestly felt so betrayed by that. i'm not saying feyre and tamlin were good for each other, but it doesn't feel worth it to dismiss the potential they had for what we got with feysand.

also, sarah learn to treat "ugly" trauma with respect challenge. no they don't need to learn to physically fight to fight it. no they don't need a love interest to overcome it. yes the behaviors acquired from trauma and abuse aren't pretty but that doesn't mean a person is undeserving of kindness and compassion.

i think i had a point somewhere but i can't get to it. so hope you don't mind my rambling. anyway i loved your meta about tamlin i think he deserves better too

HOLY SHIT THIS ONE IS SO GOOD OK IM SO EXCITED

Bro you are so fine, I'm the one who doesn't make any sense and I totally get what you're trying to say. (Acomaf was actually my favorite book in the series too ngl)

BUT FUCK YEAH LETS TALK ABOUT RHYSAND.

I don't think it's a secret that Rhysand is one of my least favorite characters in media, probably ever? (How do I even put this into words) He is a bad character and to me, laughably so. You know how if you've ever written a character, there's that little phase that's like "what if people don't like this character' and then you're sad for a little bit? That's how Rhysand feels to me. He feels like SJM looked at this character and thought "I can't stand the thought of people not liking this character because I love him so much" and then did everything in her power to make sure we know how great he is.

Idk if this is just me screaming into the void, but I get to this place with my characters where like, especially if they are a little more morally gray or their decisions have negative impacts, I understand that I don't need the audience to like my main character. they can stand on their own, they can own up to what they do and they can grow from it. Thats what a good character does. That's how you keep your audience rooting for them. You gotta knock them over sometimes.

SJm doesn't knock Rhysand over. She doesn't push him to make mistakes, apologize, own up and move on. Rhysand has never made a decision that ended poorly for him. Everything goes the way he wants it to, because SJm wants us to know how cool and great he is. People who are cool and great don't make bad decisions! SJm doesn't let Rhysand fail, and she doesn't let him suffer his own decisions. Everyone else suffers his decisions, not him.

Rhysand's reputation as a good person hinges entirely on the audience liking him and/or thinking he's hot. And then what happens when the audience thinks neither of those things? Ya get a rly long post like this by a lil enby who is mad all the time. Rhysand loses all credibility when you look at him through a critical lens. Not a single thing the man does makes any goddamn sense. Here I thought acosf would give us a different perspective on Feysand and I was desperately hoping that Nesta would tell us what she really sees in them and how people around them really feel, I hoped that SjM would throw us for a loop and tell us that hey, she does know that Feysand are fucking toxic as hell and ruin the lives of people around them and she wants to show us that from an outside perspective but noooOoOOOoOoOOOO...

Instead we get Nesta hating herself because Rhysand told her that she shouldn't tell Feyre that Feyre could uh die in childbirth. Hey what the fuck.

Now I don't actually ship feylin, I kinda always sorta knew, even without spoilers, that it wasn't going to work out. Tamlin isn't sjm's idea of a good partner because he's not charming and witty and dark and handsome ya know? We met Rhysand and I knew that I was going to fucking hate this romance. Which sucks because I found Rhysand so intriguing in the first book. Ngl all the time spent in the spring court was kinda boring and every time Rhysand showed up to throw dead faeries at Tamlin I was like "oooooo" and I wanted to know more about why Tamlin, this awkward, blunt and kinda shy dude had beef with this super duper sly and shady man from another court.

I don't know if I've ever said this before, but SJm doesn't let her love interests grow. Rhysand doesn't change over the course of the story because he was already a good guy and his motives were for Feyre's sake I swear, the same goes for Rowan in TOG. SJm doesn't give Rhysand room to change. She needs to get to the part where they fuck make sure everyone knows that Rhysand is a good guy and actually he was good all along so that we like him more than Tamlin. It backtracks on everything bad Rhysand has ever done because you know... He had a good reason! It's fine!

I know it's probably just because SJm doesn't actually know how to write a good character growth arc but... Like can you imagine if Rhysand stayed the bad guy? Or at least remained the bad guy through acotar and acomaf? And then when Rhysand comes to take Feyre for his bargain it really was only to spite Tamlin? What about Rhysand, taking Feyre to the night court with him once a week every month for a long time, if only to see Tamlin's eyes grow darker and emptier every time he goes, and then he really starts to fall in love with Feyre. He's been a monster all this time, angry and cold and cruel and then he actually starts to fall in love. And then to get Feyre to stay he really does try to change, he stops antagonizing Feyre, he stops throwing dead faeries at Tamlin, and he stops harassing the Spring court. He starts spending genuine quality time with Feyre, he starts to learn about her and all the things she likes and he stops trying to get her to come with him just so Tamlin will be mad. He starts asking her to come with him because he wants to be around her and he prays that someday she'll want to be around him too. What if SJm let him grow.

But nahhhhhh instead we have a character who always knows the right answer to things, and he always knows how to fix every issue, and he is always so innovative and outside the box except that he isn't. We get a character who does the same shit as Tamlin but it's ok because he had a good reason not to tell Feyre that she could very well die in childbirth. Uhhhh don't know what that is but uhhh I know he has his reasons because all he has are his reasons.

It would be so easy to hold a mirror up to Rhysand and say "look at this. Look who you are. Do you not look just like Tamlin right now?"

But nooooooooOoOOOo Rhysand doesn't get to be wrong. Rhysand doesn't get to look like Tamlin because Tamlin is evil and Rhysand is definitely NOT I SWEAR.

But yeah I think the point I'm trying to make is that Sarah thinks so highly of Rhysand that he could never do wrong. He could never be like Tamlin, despite the narrative literally telling us the exact opposite.

Like you said, we lost the potential of what feylin could have been if SJm didn't suddenly decide that her audience needs to love Rhysand as much as she does. I think feylin could have been slow and sweet and a story of true healing and learning about one another. I think it would have been kind and steady and lots of "are you ok"s and "I'm sorry"s and "talk to me"s. Everything about Feysand feels rushed and hard and fast and the rest of the world doesn't have time to catch up. It's fucking exhausting to read it ya know what I'm saying.

(also can we talk about Rhysand like dying and Feyre finding the suriel and learning he's her mate and then instead of being like "k let's put a pin in that and fuckin save his life first" she like throws him around and everyone is like "wtf woman" and she's like I neeD tO Be alOnE these people have no idea how to prioritize)

Truly, I think it's innocent to a degree. There is absolutely no harm in wanting people to like your character. The harm comes when you destroy another character with no reason or explanation other than you want people to like a different character. Villain arc? Completely out of left field. You gotta build to that shit or like... Make it so that when you look back you slap your forehead and yell at a wall "OF FUCKING COURSE I SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT"

anyways, SJm treat "ugly" trauma with respect challenge SECONDED.

WELL IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME WEEKS YO WRITE IM HAVING A HARD TIME I know it probably doesn't make any sense I can't find my braincells BUT thanks for the ask @xelly

Tell me all your acotar things I love yo hear them !!

#rhysand #anti rhysand #anti sjm #anti acotar #anti inner circle #tamlin #lucien deserved better #they all deserved better frankly

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poptod · 3 years ago

Text

The Breeding Kings, pt. 8, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Search and creation. In a desperate bid to protect his identity, he convinces you you're not safe in the cities of Egypt, thus assuring you further that your place in life is far away from Egypt––where he was trying to keep you in the first place.

Notes: okay i try to stay as true as i can when it comes to the egyptian language and how hieroglyphs are pronounced but theres so little information on the indus valley. we still dont know how to decode their language but we know the closest language is a form of a modern indian dialect so thats what ive been using hope thats alright WC: 6k

Pounding like a hammer on his cranium brought him back to the land of the living in a dizzy, sickeningly fast whirl. He returned to his body and at once felt the aching of his joints, his throat bereft of water, and the headache reaching from his temple to the base of his spine.

As he blearily opened his eyes, the dryness of them making it rather hard, the pounding of warhammers on his ears continued in clearer and clearer beats. It was then, his hand already covering his eyes from the sun, that he recognized the inside of a bell swinging above him, the massive metal gong sending vibrations throughout his whole body.

"Oh dear Gods," he moaned, the awful sound thrumming everywhere he could feel.

Hazy memories of the night before returned slowly to him, injured only by the continued swaying of the bell above him. After finally filling your stomachs, you drowned yourselves in beer, going from storeroom to storeroom to take whatever they would be willing to give.

"Yogi?" He said in a rough voice.

You let out a long, low whine.

"No talking," you mumbled.

"Oh, you can't stand my talking but you're fine with the bell?"

"Aganu, I can not stand anything right now," you said in the most helpless, exasperated voice that Ahk couldn't help but laugh, even with his head hanging off the edge of the belltower.

His laugh faded away the longer blood was allowed to rush to his head, till he had enough of the pressure and turned onto his stomach. In the very least the bell was not rocking as much as it previously was, swaying instead of swinging back and forth. Below, however, the people had gathered at the foot of white limestone steps that gleamed in the morning sun, their eyes directed to a speaker standing upon those stairs.

Ahkmen squinted, attempting to make out the person's identity.

"-and the decree of the Pharaoh is thusly," they said, their voice faded from the height Ahk sat at.

The moment the words were spoken, Ahk's eyes bulged, his expression dropping from casual humor to dead horror.

"My soldiers have seen my son leave me," they said as they read from the papyrus in their hands.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, but he relaxed when he saw you, if only for a moment before he was once more petrified by the fear of you discovering him.

"He has gone towards the mouth of Hapi. See my son––the Prince Ahkmen––is not with you. See my son, if he is with you, to me."

"Ahkmen?" You said with a small frown. "Who is Ahkmen?"

"Just some stuck-up Prince," Ahk said quickly.

"Ah, so like you," you said, grinning as you nudged him with your elbow.

"That is... so rude," he said as he only half paid attention, his eyes focused on the crowd below. In a straight voice he continued his teasing with, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to abandon you now."

"You will not make that, you are too full of old beer. You need my potion," you said.

"Maybe so," he grumbled, all too aware of his headache. He looked down, attempting to gauge the tower for an escape. "How.. the hell did we get up here? We must be fifty spans in the air."

"Have you rope?"

"No, I –"

You raise your hand, revealing the rope in it.

"It is on the side, where you forgot it," you chuckled, handing him the long rope. He glared playfully as he took it.

The descent down the perfectly polished walls was, needless to say, interesting, and made less difficult by the removal of your sandals. Ahkmen went first, followed by you, and he immediately took off the moment you landed on the ground. He looked over his shoulder as he turned the corner, spotting one last flash of the scribe calling the name of the missing Prince.

Murmurs of conversations that surrounded him spoke of the same thing––a lost prince, oh how strange!––behind the veils of widows and children who heard the words of the Pharaoh. The ache in his neck worsened as he turned rapidly back and forth, constantly scanning his environment for any surprised faces. Your own, shorter legs barely kept up with his pace, sometimes barely landing back on the ground before you were pulled continuously by Ahk's grasp on your hand.

The edge of the city must've been 5 iteru away––longer than either of them could run in their state. Realizing this, Ahkmen pulled off into alleyways as he had the day before, and hid within the tall, vacant walls.

He panted heavily as the two of you slowed, skidding on the sandy ground before you both fell down in exhaustion. Your chest heaved like his, eyes concentrated on a purely blue sky, as his remained centered on the single exit from the dead end; the only direction you could be approached from.

"Who do we run from?" You finally asked, irritation lacing the knot in your brow.

"Soldiers," he answered instinctively. You had a fear of them––it might subdue your curiosity. "And the town officials. We're a little young to be on our own and I don't want them to falsely accuse us of anything, or put us in any situation where we have to talk to them."

"Uh..." you scanned his composure thoroughly, "okay. I see your fear, but we must think, not run."

"You're right," he said, just barely rising to his feet enough to stumble over to you, kneeling at your side. "You're right. We need to get out of here, but not like this."

"I have one – one potion, of all my potions, in my bag," you said as you looked around, trying to find the packs you'd entered the city with. "The one for the, the – the getting drunk sick, thing in the morning."

"Hangover," he said.

"Etuvaka. Where is my bag?"

"Your what––oh, shit," he went quiet with his last words, grimacing as the blistered memories of last night returned to him in one-scene flashes.

"What?" You whipped round to look at him, a dead panic in your eyes. When he didn't answer, you scooted closer and cried, "what??!"

"We found a loose brick in the street," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back with deep regret in the breath he drew, "and to hide our stuff while we went drinking... we put our bags underneath it."

"Oh shit."

"Verily," he breathed out with a nod.

Several minutes of astonished silence passed before he croaked out, "I had most of our wares in there."

"And my potions," you said, similarly collapsed as he was. "Do you know any else?"

"No, I'm surprised I can remember that we hid our bags at all," he said, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"And my cat!" You cried.

"Your cat came with us?"

"Yes!! All from Memphis!"

"No, I mean, she came into the city? When did she leave? Or do you even remember?" He said, assaulting you with an onslaught of questions.

"Young, by the wall for the city," you said in almost a whine, leaning against the alley wall.

"Maybe she can help us," Ahk suggested, shifting to sit up straighter with the idea in his head.

"She can not speak Egyptian, dumb head!" You scolded.

"But she doesn't have any eyes," Ahk said, and you opened your mouth to explain that isn't exactly pertinent when he continued with, "so her nose might be much stronger. I hear that when you lose one of your senses, the others grow stronger."

You seemed, at best, dubious of his claims, but spoke after a moment of contemplative silence.

"Okay. But we must to find her, then the bags," you said slowly.

"Absolutely, of course," he said with a nod. "Does she answer to her name?"

You looked to him with a flat expression.

"Does any cat?" You asked.

"Fair point."

"We must have a - a.. a pot, and I will make her food. I need.. fish," you began to count the ingredients on your fingers, "fish head, oil, skin of the goose, and milk."

"That sounds disgusting," Ahk admitted honestly.

"It is. And it is good we will not eaten it."

The most difficult part of your plan ended up being the very first step––finding a place in which to mix all these horrid smelling ingredients. Neither of you owned anything in the city, and staying out of the public eye led Ahk to sacrifice several different ideas, landing you with a final resort.

It was already midday by the time you stood outside one of the city's temple's baking kitchens, the heat of the sun blocked by tarps of orange and yellow swinging from rooftop to rooftop. Already the scent of searing meat and baking pastries filled the air, wandering through little chains of markets all throughout the city, and leading you to one of the biggest kitchens you'd seen. They would not remark upon the absence of one pot, would they?

"There's a way in, back there," Ahk whispered to you, the both of you peering over empty crates. "It's just a tent so we can flip it and get inside."

"And who will we get?"

"Whichever one is closest, I presume," he said, offering no more advice before he ducked out of the hiding spot, heading discreetly across the street.

You followed in a stumble, taken surprise by his sudden movements. When you caught up with him, you knelt to hide behind the same abandoned cart, once more checking the positions of cooks and cleaners occupying the bakery. Most people were sitting at the side of a tall fountain, enjoying the midday break for food.

He left, this time signalling for you to follow him. Without pause you did, crouching down to sneak beneath the tent flaps and into the kitchen, where you were faced with a cauldron half your height. Before either of you could exchange words, you were both grasping the handles, hauling it off the small fire and out towards the space behind the tent. Another makeshift alleyway.

"Do we have to heat it?" Ahk asked, peering into the heavy bowl.

"No, it is not a good for the nose. Borrow the fish, in there." You pointed to the tent. "I will get milk."

The wretched scent stewing below you bathed your face in its' fumes, but remained nothing more than a hint of your actions to anyone further from the pot. Ahkmen had been holding his nose manually the entire time, his voice nasally, which didn't help when you laughed and drew in breaths that tasted of fish milk.

"We're going to have to pour this in the street, aren't we," Ahk said, one hand pinching his nose and the other on his hip.

"Yes, and we can not... soldiers, can not see us," you said, glancing between him and the pot.

"Right. Drop and dip."

"... okay."

Oil was eventually hard enough to find that you forwent the ingredient, leaving you with milk, goose skin, and fish head mixed up till it all softened. The look of it alone made Ahk queasy, and if he ever attempted to breathe too deeply, he lurched with sickness, clutching his stomach. You just laughed.

"Not good, is it?" You said with a toothy grin.

"How many times have you made this shit?" He asked, his face pale as he leaned against the nearest solid wall.

"I make it... not much, and it is smaller many times, so... I am.. dear God, this smells," you grumbled.

"Just get this over with."

The two of you lugged the heavy cauldron out of the alley, shuffling past the temple to dump the product of your work. Your head pounded as you strained, dry and hungry, till you managed to toss the pot out into the crowded streets.

The reaction was instant. Questions and groans rippled through the people who split as the white mixture flooded down the road. More shouts and exclamations followed when the scent truly set in, wafting from the milk already baking in the hot sun. Ahk turned to you to find you laughing, stumbling back as you hid your grinning mouth.

"What's so funny?" He asked, but he was already chuckling with you.

"You rich people," you said as you pointed to a couple fleeing hand in hand, their silken white robes lined with rotten milk. "It is funny to see you run, and scream."

"Alright, you've gotten your kicks. Where's your cat?"

"Quiet. She comes soon."

From the many different streets coalescing into the center outside the temple, cats came, some hairless like yours and others furry and large. They gathered at the spill, sniffing curiously at the strange mixture before ultimately licking away at it.

"You know, I didn't actually expect them to like it," Ahk said above you, both of you peering out from behind the kitchen tent.

"You do not trust me?"

"It's not that," he said with a frown that disappeared at your chuckling. "I just.. it's astounding anything can stand that close to it."

"We did."

"Shut up, Yogi."

It took a little while, but by the time soldiers discovered the debacle, you and Ahk were chasing Sephys down another, smaller street. Her missing eyes were of no consequence as she darted between boxes and legs, jumping over a small mouse who cowered near the wall. Ahkmen's heart was already racing from the proximity to royal guards, doubled by his chasing feet, following after you following a blind cat.

Sephys' luck ended as she ran into a man's legs, bonking her head and fluttering back with an unsteady tail. You knelt, swooping her up to coo and pet her head, cradling her like a baby in your arms.

"Uh, sorry," Ahk apologized quickly to the man Sephys had run into. He glared but said nothing, continuing to lug crates of vegetables out of a nearby doorway.

Ahkmen jogged back over to you, looking over your shoulder at the cat.

"Do you think she'll be able to find it?" He asked.

"What?" You looked up at him, flinching away when you found how close he was to you.

"Our bags."

"Oh! Yes, yes. Sephys," you held her at eye level, her gangly limbs stuck straight down, "we must to find my potions. My bag."

She looked blankly to the side of your face. Her nose twitched.

"Good," you said before dropping her.

She trotted off with hunched shoulders, her thin body jumbling her steps. You ran after her, motioning Ahk along when he didn't immediately follow you. He sighed but obeyed, winding back through the streets to the spill, where Ahk attempted his best at hiding his face as he ran by. Fortunately you were only there for a split second before you running off down another street, following the light-footed Sephys.

When she stopped, she pawed at the ground, sniffing the dust that had blown over. You slowed to a halt, kneeling down beside her.

"Atu inke irukirata, Sephys?" You asked as you caught your breath.

"Did we find it?"

"I think, yes," you said, gently pushing Sephys aside and digging your short nails into the loose brick of the street. Ahk knelt at your side and aided you in moving the rock.

Soon, the brick was raised enough for you to pull it out the rest of the way, revealing a pocket within the earth containing leather and fabrics reminiscent of both yours and Ahk's packs. Both of you exclaimed, looking to one another with big grins that devolved into laughter.

"We did it!" He said, pulling the bags out of the tiny hole. He handed you yours.

"We are smart, we know," you said with a sly wink, tapping your temple. "And cat knows."

"Right," he chuckled as he moved to his feet. "Shall we?"

"What we?"

"Uh... never-mind. We should go soon. The guards are nearby."

"I know."

Sephys was the first to jump into the stranded boat, followed by you and then your collective bags. Ahkmen stayed on solid ground to push the canoe back into the water, jumping in as it floated away, and grabbing the oar to resume your travels.

Without the canals of streets that trapped sunlight in alleys and beneath tarps, the cool wind could distract you from the burning sun. Your fingertips returned to grace the water in shallow strokes, breathing slower, and basking in the stillness that could not exist within cities. While you relaxed in the boat's bottom, Ahk remained on his feet and rowed you onwards.

"We have bread, magic, and good friends," you said, a long sigh leaving you as your head tilted back. "We are cakes."

"We're what?"

"You know. He is the... the head, of Egypt," you said.

"Ohh, you mean Kings."

"Etuvaka." Your head fell back down onto the floor of the canoe.

You set off in the afternoon, leaving you little time to travel before the nighttime would set you away. Much deserved sleep was collapsed into, your blankets splayed across the nearest flat, dry surface. The boat was just barely pulled onto the shore, but the thought never crossed his mind as his eyes fluttered open to see you facing him. Already you were dozing, anywhere from a second to a minute from deep sleep.

"Yogasundari?" He asked softly.

"Mm," you breathed out.

"I don't think we should stop at any more Egyptian cities," he said, his voice cracking.

You shifted slowly to your side before you spoke, just barely opening your eyes.

"Why?"

"It was a close call with those soldiers," he said, scanning you for any hint of emotion beyond tired. "I don't want to lose you so soon."

"We have made okay with more.. scary people, and.. more danger. Soldiers are little to me," you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as you finished.

No, you're little to soldiers, he thought, but said nothing, and relaxed back into the blankets.

"I hope you're right," he said.

Breakfast consisted of bread and what little you could find along this stretch of the Nile. Ahk managed to spear a fish with a sharp stick, but neither of you could manage to eat much after yesterday's snafu. The fish ended up being eaten mostly by Sephys, who purred happily at your discomfort, playing with the bones of her prey. You and Ahk watched in mild disdain.

By midday you were back to burning in the sun, lamenting the lack of shade present in the middle of a kilometer wide river. Despite your discomfort, you continued to wear your longer robes, insisting they helped in keeping the sun off. Ahkmen took a different approach and removed most of his clothes, to your humored surprise.

"Any time you can take off it, you do," you said, laughing as you threw your head back behind loose shoulders. "Bad little boy."

He had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from yelling––well, that or laughing. He couldn't quite tell what was bubbling in his stomach but it seared your name onto his heart. You could make him curl up and die in a single sentence, something Ahk was used to being, not receiving.

The signs of civilization appeared much earlier than they had when arriving in Heliopolis, beginning with trading and passenger ships passing the two of you by. Ahk always looked away. His uneven breathing gave way to anticipation, waiting for the appearance of the city, where his attention would constantly be heightened to perceive every person around him.

It was a cold return to royalty––the state of constant awareness, keeping your posture straight, your gaze steely, your brow firm but not stern. After days spent with you, it was already an alien stature to his body.

He squinted through the bright sun to the distant walls, remarking upon little else besides the pure white of the stone. Tanis was an unremarkable place known only for being a city at the mouth of the Nile river. That made it a trading port, but few people actually lived in Tanis, and much of the population was made up of travellers and traders who never stayed more than a week, or three months at most.

"There it is," he said, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun's glare.

"The next city?" You asked as you moved to your feet.

Wind pushed you about as you moved, nearly rocking you over on the gentle boat. Ahkmen was forced to grasp the oar with both hands, steering you through the choppy, foaming waves.

"Tanis," he said. Technically a safer city to be than Heliopolis, but still ruled prominently by the generals of Egypt. "It's a, um.. a military town. Lots of soldiers and such."

He bit his tongue as though it served as a punishment for his little lies. It was for your benefit, right?

"Oh," you said, drawing your knees to your chest. "Are they mad to me?"

"Not... particularly," he said, hesitating after noting your shrunken posture. "Foreigners aren't treated too badly here, since there's a lot of merchants. It's just... you were taken by the Pharaoh's men. What if they're looking for you? I mean, I don't know that they are, but I'm just worried. Do you understand that?"

"You are so scared of me being hurt –"

"For the night," he interrupted you. "Stay outside the city for tonight. Tomorrow we'll need to get camels... start off into the east. You can come then."

You frowned but curled back into yourself.

"Okay," you said.

Early evening settled itself in the skies around you when you reached the city, stopping off on the opposite side of the shore to ensure your 'safety'. Ahkmen's muscles strained, already aching from the multiple efforts to pull the canoe safely onto shore. This time he only pulled it halfway up, leaving it to help you set up a tent for the evening, hidden in a grove of date trees and vines.

"I won't be gone for long. I promise. I'll bring back some actually good food, um... beer, of course," you grinned at that, and he couldn't stop his own smile, "maybe a tarp."

"A tarp?"

"For shade, when we stop for breaks. I think it'll be good if we're going to be travelling by land, we'll be wanting to stop quite often, I think."

"Okay," you said with a nod. "I will see to find maybe things for my potions."

"Perfect. Do you have a sword? Or, a dagger?"

"Yes," you chuckled.

"Alright. I'll see you soon."

Time passed achingly slow without Ahk, sharing the company of no one but your cat. That had been your life for a time, but things were different now, and you had gotten accustomed to his company.

Sephys followed you as you roamed about the trees and bushes, looking for any plant of specific necessity. The ingredients of your potions ranged anywhere from common fruit to materials so rare many didn't believe in their existence.

What Ahk had yet to find out were the uses of your potions––not so much practical as they were fantastical. The hangover cure was the most useful, but given the right ingredients and the right amount of time, you could also fashion mixtures that allowed you to hear the Gods' and Goddesses' words, or to see the stars and know your direction even in daylight. Considering the sun was still a thing, the latter wasn't one you made often.

Flowers played an integral part in a few of your brews, though the role was usually outshone by other, more exotic ingredients. Roses could be used to enhance your lusting potion, as well as the Commander spell and the To Shadows mix. Blue lotus lillies that grew within the Nile had a magic all their own.

You settled down on the riverbank, pausing in a space between overgrown bushes that led straight to the shore. Mud and sand crawled up from the softly rippling waves, carrying rocks and tiny fish that Sephys batted at, blindly attempting to use her dull claws.

"Stop that," you said, hitting her gently on the head after she splashed you.

Lily pads, their roots and stems towering off the river's floor, slowed the already feeble current passing by your side of the shore. There were few flowers among them, and the moss that surrounded them were a more vibrant green than the pads, but you still traced your fingers over the tops as though you would walk across them. Someday, perhaps; out of all the incredulous things you had encountered in your time, giant lily pads didn't seemed quite a normal thing in comparison.

Reaching for one of the purple flowers, you began to pull, attempting to uproot the vine that grounded it. In the end you twisted the stem till it thinned and broke, allowing you to free the lotus. You spun it round on your fingers, entranced in the symmetry of the petals, till you tucked it aside and reached for another flower.

Altogether you spotted four blue lotus flowers, each boasting vibrant purple and pollen as yellow as the sun. The true properties of the blue lotus were subject to your active imagination, as they appeared to boost one's connection to the divine, as well as intensifying both romantic and lust-filled thoughts that hid in the corners of the drinker's mind. Commonly it was brewed into tea used for Egyptian ceremonies––you made syrup out of it, or boiled it into potions that altogether cancelled out the sugarpea-like taste of blue lotus.

You decided to leave two of the flowers as they were, and left with two of your own. Sephys followed you as you stood from the shore, returning inland into the groves of trees, to where Ahk had originally left you and your bags. There you knelt in the dirt again, setting one flower aside and crushing up the other with a mortar and pestle. Occasionally you dripped a few strands of honey from your glass bottle into the mixture, allowing the petals and the pollen to mix easier, into yellow-ish paste that would last as long as you boiled it and kept it bottled up. With that, you set up the fire, allowing it to bubble before you slowly poured the mixture into an empty bottle, and corking it up once you were satisfied.

"Wonderful. Now I'll never use it," you said to yourself, cheerfully, and in your own native language.

Sephys sniffed the mortar in which you had ground up the flower, licking when she realized there were traces of honey inside. You didn't bother to stop her––if she wanted to get sick, she could, and if she wanted to get high, she could do that as well.

The other flower you set out to dry in the spotted sun shining through palm leaves, and left it alone to return to the river. It was there you remained until evening, watching ships stop and leave on the opposite shore, stopping by the city Ahk found himself lost in. Worry did occur to you, though you had little time to dwell on it before a small canoe was making its' way back across the river.

By then the sun had lowered to a point in the crystal-clear sky that rays of gold and red reflected off the water's surface, bouncing back in shimmering waves. The rowing of an oar within water marked Ahk's return, and you waited patiently at the edge of the river, watching as he made his way back with a grin that lit up the moment he saw you.

He splashed as he jumped out of the boat, hauling it onto shore before wrapping you up in a tight––and very wet––hug.

"Look at you!" He said as he pulled away, his hands on your shoulders and his eyes on yours. "You're still alive!"

"You are mean, Aganu," you said, grinning as you stared up at him with that same starstruck look.

"You're right up there with my mother on that belief. I've gotten what we need, but I also brought something for you," he said, motioning you over to the beached canoe.

You followed him, looking over his shoulder as he rifled through the bags and protective fabrics tossed into the raft's bottom. First he pulled out a clay jug, which he set down gently beside him, before returning to pull out a large, orange tarp.

"Garish, but... only color they had," he said, handing it to you. You took it with mild confusion.

After several cases of food, he drew a lute, handing it to you with great care to notice your reaction. Your mouth fell open part way, eyes widening as you twirled it around in your hands.

"This is... money," you said slowly, your brow furrowing as you traced the thin strings.

"It did cost a little, but I'm sure we'll get plenty of use out of it," he assured you.

"You can.." you motioned strumming it, but were reluctant to touch the strings, "do the, uh... music?"

"No," he said, his face falling into a slight grimace. "No, not really. I mean, I can make it make sound, but whether or not those sounds are good are, well, um.. up to the listener. I was thinking you could play it. It seems like something..." he sucked in a breath, "... you'd like."

"You will do the words," you said, suddenly energized as you took his hand, dragging you over to the little fire you'd made hours ago. "I do the music."

"You want me to sing?" He asked with a soft chuckle.

"Yes!" You nodded ardently.

You pulled him with you as you sat down, your legs stretched out across the blanket you'd set out earlier. He followed, crossing his own legs as he watched you fiddle with the position of the instrument, accustoming your arms to the feel of its' weight.

When you at last plucked a string, a single, high note hummed throughout the grove of trees, silencing the bugs and birds that inhabited the riverside. You looked up, glancing around at the sudden quiet. Your eyes fell to Ahk, who nodded with a smile, gently encouraging you.

A finger on the fret board and the tone changed, growing higher in a pentatonic that appeared to clash without the other notes making up the hymnal. So you slid up further, creating a minor tune that still thrummed in the lute's echo chamber. You breathed in shakily, hoping to calm yourself before you continued.

Ahkmen, sensing your nervousness, decided to stand and gather fallen twigs and branches for the fire to lessen the stress of an audience. His absence allowed your shoulders to release from their tightened state. With that, you stroked all three strings in a swoop of your thumb, discordant but not unpleasant in its' reverb. Different positions on the wooden board brought about different notes, sliding up and down in crescendos that sounded not unlike the instruments of elders played by the side of the road. A single string worked better for you--at least for now--than attempting to use all three, especially at the same time.

A string twanged when you accidentally pulled the string to the side, and you flinched, looking up to Ahk with a worried look. He didn't seem to mind, so you continued.

He began to hum as he returned to your side, tossing in the smaller twigs to restart the embers of the fire. You tried to ignore him until you realized he was singing in harmony, no words in the tune, but twisting around your lute like vines overgrown with roses.

A burst of fire sprouted from the stone circle, reaching up higher than you stood on your feet. Ahkmen jumped back with a yelp, covering his face automatically with his hands, though he landed back with no more injury than a bruise on his bottom. Your mouth fell open and you dropped the lute, rushing over to his side.

"You are good?" You asked in a frantic voice, your shaking hands hovering above him.

He clasped his head, groaning as he sat up.

"I'm alright," he assured you, patting your knelt thigh. He started to chuckle, "I'm just sort of stupid."

"No, no," you said, but could offer little comfort besides that.

That alone made him snort, his head falling back down to the ground as he laughed. You giggled with him, your shoulders shaking as you covered your mouth, hiding your smile from view.

As you both calmed, he asked something that had been on his mind for a good while.

"Why do you cover your smile whenever you laugh?" He asked in a soft voice, one that demanded no answer.

You paused, your lips parting as your posture straightened.

"I... I do not know," you said, looking away. "It is.. something to... I do not want soldiers to see me smile. They think I am.. 'up to something'."

"Why would they think that?" He asked with a frown.

"I think it is my home, my clothes," you said.

"Where you're from," he mumbled, sighing as he shut his eyes. "I've never liked those damn soldiers. The only people who want to be my father's soldiers are the ones who will abuse the power, and those who abuse power are not good people."

"What do you say?" You asked, furrowing your brow.

"You've probably already realized this, but there's quite a lot of nationalism in Egypt. A lot of my people don't like foreigners," he explained. "It's a crude and primitive frame of thought. I'm sorry."

"It is not for you, to say sorry for," you said, meeting his eye as he turned to you, still lying flat on his back.

"I know," he grunted as he sat up.

But I am the Prince. Can I claim that?

"Here, though, there is nothing but us," he said.

He scooted closer to you, resting his palms on your knees.

"You don't need to do that anymore," he said. "I want to see you smile."

"I do not -"

His fingers crawled like spiders up your shirt, teasing your sensitive stomach with light brushes that brought you far too easily into cackling. You fell back, your hands subconsciously coming up to cover your mouth, much to his disappointment and amusement. He reached up, pinning your hands above you with one arm while the other continued to tickle up from your waist and onto your chest as you laughed helplessly.

You continued to writhe in his grasp, your smile wide and blushing as he sat on your hips, pinning you further to the ground. Your legs kicked against the floor, sometimes budging against Ahk's back. Ahk continued to grin at your laughing stupor.

"Stop! Stop!" You cried through the laughter, attempting to wriggle out of the hands pinning you down.

Tears blurred into the edges of your eyes and he finally ceased, leaning back with cheeks aching from his smile.

"And I'll do it again if you don't stop covering yourself up like that," he said, ever so slightly leaning in closer, till he hung over you like the sky.

Nothing but silence from you––the words couldn't form in your head or on your tongue, so you simply nodded, eyes flickering across his features. He fell into a similar silence, scanning your near vacant expression. Close enough to feel your breath.

Your gaze drifted upwards. A halo of stars glowing around him. Above you, pinning you down, as he had weeks or months ago––sneaking you across a river turned into sneaking you down a river, painted stars became the heavens, speaking of your laughter rather than the Gods and their stories. But your eyes remained the same, staring into one another, puzzled by your hesitance to part.

"We must sleep," you said softly, making no move to get up.

"Yeah," he said, and he appeared to be just as reluctant to move.

The fire crackled beside you, now burning through larger branches and leaves that emitted smoke high into the starlit sky. Dancing flames illuminated the dips and rises of his face, the long eyelashes surrounding cold, grey irises, and the curls of his growing hair nearly overtaking his eyes.

You dared not breathe.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 4 years ago

Text

its gonna be an oolong night

A/N: Yes, I’m still alive. This is for a character that literally nobody is familiar with, and I honestly don’t care at this point. He’s wonderful, attractive, and my god great character yes yes yes. Mat x reader.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem! receiving), major teasing, like more than usual for me, but somehow still soft like what the fuck

I also know that a lot is going on right now, fandom-wise, and here in the US.(i swear to god one of these days im just gonna start throwing hands at the police) (or just the world in general.) But here’s some smut to take your mind off that, at least for a few thousand words.

Tag List: @super-unpredictable98, @seanfalco, @seancekitsch, @bisexualnathanyoung, @neuroticpuppy, @misskittysmagicportal, @ghoulsbuddy, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @the-freckled-luba, @maerenee930

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s literally just a dosage cup full.” he said, leaning the small cup towards you. Mat was testing a new brew of coffee, one he made this time. Although you loved and trusted him, sometimes he didn’t have the best execution.

“Sir, you have no idea how much anxiety I’m gonna be having if I have like any of that.” you reply, slowly backing into the corner. You look around for any type of escape, and it seems as if the side door in the kitchen was the only option. As Mat dove forward, you spun to face the door, and placed a finger on the handle.

“One move and I’m gone sir. Not permanently of course, the dick’s too good, but you know I have places to be. Food to eat. Arson to commit.” you say, half-stern, foot inching towards the door.

“Ugh fine. At least I know that I’ve been fucking you right this entire time.” he replies, downing the coffee before throwing the small cup in the sink, walking towards you. The sun was out, and he was simply glowing in it. Especially after that work out with Craig, dear lord, that man was looking scrumdiddlyumptious.

“You always listen. I have no idea if it’s because of your anxiety, or that you drink your respect women juice every morning. But what can I say, you know your way around.” you mutter, letting him come from behind you in order to hug you.

“I don’t think I’d want it any other way. Finding the body’s secrets and enjoying them together. Are you purposely trying to get me to fuck you on the couch, because I will.” Mat whispered into your form. You could feel him press his hardness into you, and a few thoughts passed through your head.

Do I want this man to fuck my brains out? Yes/No

Am I going to have to clean the couch, bed, counter, and or kitchen table afterwards? Yes/No

Will he make/give me brownies afterwards? Yes/No

But I have work to do??? Do That First, And Let Him Tease You Through It/Ignore

“Okay, fine, I’ll let you fuck me afterwards. But you can tease me throughout, it’s always an option.” you mutter, turning around to see the half-smirk on his face.

“Oh, you’re going to struggle, mama.” he said, putting a record on, Keys of Life, as expected.

“We’ll see.”

And fucking see you did. You couldn’t get a fucking break from this man’s fucking hands. He was observing you while you folded laundry, and would purposely brush his hands with yours when you handed a new article of clothing to him. You were washing dishes practically attached at the hip. It took you a good hour to get all of the housework done. Of course, it would’ve gone much smoother if Mat wasn’t sitting on counters like a cat, mind, counters that you were trying to clean.

“Yay, you’re finally done!” Mat cheered, climbing towards you from the end of the bed, gently tugging your pants off. He kissed up your calves, and breathed in deeply once he got to your hips. He let the sigh out, and got to work on treasuring your legs and thighs.

You took a deep breath, and got distracted in thought for a moment. Mat always treated you like, well a queen. Waking up in the morning to cook before he goes down to the shop, and letting you try new recipes. He even let you go back into the kitchen to tour it once. Although, Pablo headbanging wasn’t what you intended on seeing. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t take it back for anything. Mat’s wonderful, and he made sure everything was as it should be. Well, most times at least. It gave you a warm, fuzzy feeling, and you came back to the realm of reality where Mat was finishing his rounds, fingers threading a trail to your underwear.

He also tugged those off, and without a second thought, your legs spread further, and Mat gently kissed along your slit, then using his fingers to separating your labia. Your head sat back on the pillow as his tongue made itself familiar with you once more. His hands came up to hold your hips to his face, and you had half a mind to squeeze his head with your thighs. Tiny, lewd noises filled the once-quiet space as Mat went to town on your pussy, like he hadn’t eaten in days (thats a lie, he ate you out during a work call the night before). His nose gently nudged your clit, and you gasped. He smiled against you as one of his fingers came to toy with it, rubbing gentle circles. You sighed at his touch, but then the fucker began teasing.

His tongue would get within centimeters of your clit before retreating back down. You were very tempted to reach down to hold his head where you wanted. You thought it out for 0.5 seconds before reaching down and gently pressing his head into your sex, adjusting your hips as to where they’re slightly off the bed. He looked up at you, glaring, as he let you have your way with his head...for the time being at least.

He lapped at your excretions, almost disgustingly so, but every noise that come from below further fueled the fire. The burning, aching fire in the pit of your gut that wanted nothing more than to absolutely be ruined by (or to ruin) your lover, as well as the bedsheets that you’d been occupying. For short moments of time, you focused on the feeling of his dreads on your thighs before another intrusion made you gasp out loud, making your hips stutter against Mat’s face, losing their up and down motion. Mat’s fingers were more than skilled at getting where they needed to be, and as you felt them (yes, them, he works quick) scissor into you. Your walls contracted when he moved his mouth over your clit, sucking roughly. Those fucking sounds drove you over multiple waves, but the big one was yet to arrive. You were getting extraordinarily close, and on extremely short notice. You couldn’t make head nor tail of Mat’s fingers or his tongue. All you knew was more and more pressure right where you wanted. The flat of his tongue just needed to move like an inch to the left-

oh jesus fucking christ~

Your legs squeezed around Mat’s face as you came, and you screamed to the heavens, head thrown back. Angelic, almost, except maybe God won’t let you in for this moment, right here in particular. Mat came back up with the bottom half of his face covered in slick, eyes blown with lust.

“Every time you properly give me an orgasm, I swear 5 extra years get added to my life.” you mumble, catching your breath.

“Mm, and well deserved. You taste so fucking good, I need even more time to cherish you.” he replied, shedding his shirt.

You admired him from your spot on the bed for a short moment before the sex gremlin in your brain leaned forward, urging you to kiss your partner. He reciprocated, and his arm found its way back around your body as the two of you made out. Mat’s hard-on pulsed against your thigh, even through those fucking boxers, you thought, as Mat detached from the kiss, moving his way to your neck. He nipped at a few spots, and kissed over your clavicle before finally taking off his last article of clothing, and you contracted once more upon realizing that this man, truly was yours. He wouldn’t be this tender and caring with anyone he found (on second thought, mans does have horrible anxiety, so-). But no, he usually wouldn’t eat out some stranger, then ask them what their favorite surprise flavors in cupcakes are. He wouldn’t carry them to bed after their day was too exhausting to even want to life another finger. He wouldn’t come over and smoke, and talk over records with just anyone.

“I know you’re thinking about something. Come on, my penis is a simple being, it’s not a deity.” Mat says, chuckling afterwards.

“Right... let me just call the pp doctor real quick. In reality, I was thinking about how good you are to me. But please, do feel free to stick it in, I’m waiting sir.” you reply, letting Mat line himself up before he gently sheathed himself in you, causing your head to tip back once more. Mat also let out a beautiful, guttural noise of his own, furthering your own want for him to fuck your brains out.

Mat gently pulled back before starting a decent pace, making sure to let you adjust where needed, and tucking his head into your neck. You looked over to his back, and stare at his ass before deciding to actually focus on the pleasure you were experiencing in that moment. Your hands rested on his back as you gently clenched and unclenched, thinking of nothing more than being absolutely wrecked and fucked out by Mat, letting your thoughts wander to the dirtiest, most filthy parts of your brain. Once you were done practically creaming at the thought of being ruined, Mat groaned against your neck. He was almost whimpering, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his muscles gleamed in the sunlight, which peeked through the blinds.

You just so happened to look down at where Mat was slamming into you, and it was such a wonderful thing to see. There was cream practically streaming out of you, and the spot underneath you was soaked, a good sized puddle of release surrounding your bottom. Mat wasn’t even fully pulling out anymore. That didn’t even matter though, he just felt so good. Too fucking good. The sound of him fucking you into the mattress was so good. So much better than the toy in the bedside drawer. It worked wonders, true, but my god, Mat did you so well. Could never hold candle to him. Mat was getting louder, and the almost full-bladder feeling built inside of you, but that was for another time. Although, the sheets can’t possibly be ruined any further. Anyway, Mat was about to fucking mating press you into the goddamn mattress.

You clenched, and gasped loudly as Mat hit that one spot. The definite, all-in spot that made you see stars when tapped correctly. Your nails dug into Mat’s back, much to his liking, and he drilled you into the mattress, legs held by his hands, and all thoughts thrown out of the window. He was openly praising you, how good and tight you felt, and how he wanted to *shudders* fill you up while he gently, but somehow so roughly made love to you. A few more loud moments passed, and you ground your hips upwards, making sure that somehow, you remained dominant in your own sense. Mat sped up impossibly, hips moving like a blur into you. He reached his end, and cried out, hips pressed directly into yours as he came. His eyes were closed, but he looked so fucking good, head thrown back, chest glistening with sweat. He collapsed next to you, breathing heavily. You contemplated getting up, but Mat always got a smidge clingy after his orgasms, so you were you wrapped your arms around him, in an odd sideways hug. Minutes passed, and you were fighting sleep, and resisting the urge.

Once you were almost out, you heard a muffled noise from besides you.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.” you muttered. Mat moved his head from the pillow and said something very honest.

“I want you to sit on my face. You didn’t get a chance to orgasm again, and I want you to have as lovely of a experience as I did.” he replied, and you were a deer in headlights for a moment. A very aware deer, but like sir, I need some reference. Don’t tell me to pop, lock, and drop it on your face right after I just held my legs in one spot for like 30 minutes.

“Fucking get to it then.” you purred, hips hovering above his face

He waited only seconds to begin absolutely devouring you, nose buried in your pussy. You barely even had to move your hips, as was getting into every spot you needed him to perfectly. His tongue seemed to move a mile a minute, getting all of the best places it could find. You were afraid of what was to happen if he was too quick. Poor thing would need a good five minutes of warning. You fully let go of the tension in your body, and let Mat work his magic, hands holding onto your ass extremely tight, sure to leave bruises.

You screamed when he landed a slap to your ass, harder than usual, and you were just moments away from another wonderful climax. At this moment in time, you wished that you had a mirror on the top of your bed, so that way, you could see everything. It would be so perfect for so many tender moments in time. Or less tender, more rough and “chile, we shoulda got the roast out at 4:45, but it’s 5:25 moments”

Your brain just go happened to think about looking down, and Mat’s blissed out face, mildly flushed in comparison to other moments. You moved your hips just one touch to the right, and it caused you to orgasm on his face. Quite messily for an observer’s eye. Yeahhh, you should’ve warned him about that. Mat wiped his face off, and smiled, kissing your thigh as you fell to the opposite side of the bed. You laughed it off, and almost immediately knocked out.

“You could’ve told me about that, y’know.” Mat said, the next morning. He was brushing his teeth, and preparing to open The Coffee Spoon up for the morning.

“It would’ve ruined the fun. Who doesn’t like a bit of spice added to their coffee, hmm?” you retorted, watching as his eyes drifted over to yours in a somewhat happy, somewhat “oh my god, the fucking nerves of that pun” way.

No matter, because there would be a lot more surprises where that came from.

Mat, for reference:

Masterlist

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gale-gentlepenguin · 6 years ago

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 1

(Link to the idea) that made me want to write it instead of working on my OTHER FICS.

(Master post)

_______________________________________________________________________

“Soulmate Searcher?” Marinette questioned with intrigue and confusion.

“Its an app that just got a global release!” Alya answered. “At first it was only released in America, but it became a huge hit and now it has international servers.”

The designer looked at her friend with even more confusion.

“So why is it so popular? And why did you want me to install it on my phone?” Marinette inquired.

“Its an app that lets you find the special someone who is your significant other. Alya explained. “Its a tried and true compatibility tester.”

Marinette’s intrigue dissipated, in her mind it was just like those cheesy magazine quizzes they put in magazines to see which celebrity you would marry. Marinette had long outgrown that phase, especially when last time she took one it did not say she would be paired with Adrien but XY! Gross.

“Oh. Well count me out. Those quizzes are just a load of...”

“No way lady dude.” Nino chimed in. “This thing is legit. It has the highest matchmaking app back in the States and it is like down to a science and stuff.”

Marinette looked at the DJ skeptically.

Alya placed her hand on her shoulder.

“ It is more then just a personality quiz. You put in your name, your age, dating age range, preference, and so on, and then you answer a bunch of questions that allows the app to gage your personality, mentality and emotional impulse. Then after thats done, it will match you with the top 10 people who have the highest compatibility with you in a 50 mile radius. You can see percentage rates and everything. Then you can decide if you want to message any of the people on the list or block them. They can only see your name, photo and the percentage.” Alya detailed.

“So then all a person needs to do is know what your answers are and copy them.”

“An interesting Hypothesis but sadly incorrect.” Max answered from behind the group.

“Sorry to intrude, but I too had my doubts about the app until I learned about how the app’s algorithm worked. All questions given are randomized and answering the questions the exact same way even if someone did get the same questions does not guarantee 100% compatibility. I made several dummy accounts and rigged them in order to make them both have identical questions and answers, but they did not achieve 100% compatibility.” The class egghead began to explain.

“Having run the test numerous times with numerous accounts, the algorithm matches people with similar beliefs but not identical, as having too much in common does not mean soul mate, it can be seen as suffocating. I have not yet cracked the theorem of how to get 100%. The highest I have been able to get is 93%. It is as if it is a perfect formula for compatibility.” Max concluded.

Marinette had to admit her interest was peeked.

“So its a one time questionnaire and then done?” Marinette pressed with more interest.

“Well the first questionnaire takes an hour or two so it has enough data for a base compatibility profile. Then you answer 10 questions every day for 2 weeks to reaffirm any errors it might have made. Thats how the App is so successful. After about 2 weeks, your profile will be established. It was able to cut the margin of error down to 1.9%” Max exclaimed. “Its the pinnacle of mathematical perfection.”

“Thanks dude, couldn't have explained it better... really.” Nino thanked the robot enthusiast.

“Anytime, now I must head off. Markov and I have more tests to run.” Max head out and left the three teens to their own devices.

Marinette thought about it, she really didn't have much to lose trying it out.

“I even got Adrien to install it. He said he will fill it out after fencing.” Alya Whispered.

Marinette realized she had to do it. What if Adrien was on the app and some other girl had a high compatibility with him before she had a chance to try it. What if he fell in love with that mystery girl, got married and then bought a hamster!?

“Okay, I will take the quiz.” Marinette exclaimed with Confidence.

“Atta girl!”

______________________________________________________________________

Marinette had gone with Alya back to the Dupain Bakery in order to answer the questions in peace.

In Marinette’s room, Alya was relaxing as she watched the Designer answer the questions as honestly as possible.

“Now Girl, odds are the percentage maybe around the 70% mark, But Knowing you and Adrien, I bet you two will make it into the 80′s.” Alya answered.

Marinette nodded, half listening as she focused on answering.

“Nino and I got an 85%, which was pretty high. Ivan and Myléne only got a 79%. So no worries even if its in the 70′s”

“DONE!” Marinette exclaimed as she fell back. She was mentally exhausted. The questions were surprisingly more in depth then she expected.

She pressed submit and waited. Staring at her phone as it ‘processed her answers’

Alya stood up walking over to the bluish-black haired designer.

“Well.”

The list popped up.

Marinette scrolled through from 10 to 1. No Adrien. She felt herself sigh deeply.

“He isn't on it...” Marinette spoke defeated.

Alya took a look.

“Sorry girl, It might be he hasn't uploaded his profile yet.” Alya tried to encourage her friend who was burying her head in her pillow.

“You think?”

“He is a busy guy, but also, you need to see who is number one on the list. A certain guitarist you happen to be fond off.” Alya said with a smile.

Marinette pulled her head up and took her phone. Sure enough, it was Luka who was number one on the list. He had an 80% compatibility rating with her, which was at least 20% higher then the guy in second place. Maybe this was a sign that she should move on from Adrien and ask Luka out.

“Maybe I should message Luka, If he believes in this sort of thing.” Marinette spoke with a blush on her face.

Alya nodded.

“Do what you think is right girl, Adrien or not, you deserve a guy that will make you happy.”

“Thanks Alya, you are the best.” Marinette smiled sweetly at her best friend.

She clicked on the profile. The pop up asked if she would like to message the user Luka Couffaine.

Marinette paused, she was nervous about doing this. It was as if this was her crossroads. Would she go for it?

_____________________________________________________________________

“DONE!” Adrien exclaimed as he fell back on his bed. He was mentally exhausted as well as physically. He told Alya he would try out the app as soon as he was free from fencing.

“I don't get why you even bothered with those dumb questions.” A grouchy floating cat creature commented.

“Its an in depth Compatibility test Plagg. This could be the best way of finding My lady.”

Plagg looked at the model with skepticism.

“What makes you think that you would be matched up with Ladybug? You don't even know who she is.”

“We are soulmates, so obviously we will have the highest compatibility.” Adrien answered with confidence as he sat up.

Plagg rolled his eyes.

“You do know just because you were picked to be the cat miraculous wielder doesn't mean your soulmate is ladybug. There have been Ladybug’s and Chat noir’s that haven't gotten together.”

“It isn't because we were chosen together. I can just feel it Plagg. I know we are meant to be. And if for some reason the girl with the highest compatibility with me isn't Ladybug, I will still likely find someone that I can find myself liking. But knowing my Lady, she and I will have a compatibility of 85 maybe even 90%” Adrien answered with a loving sigh. “Oh, its ready.”

Adrien smiles at his phone before looking at the list.

“Oh Kagami is on here. 79% Thats pretty good. But she is only number two? Huh, so then who is number one?” Adrien spoke aloud as he scrolled. As he saw the name that was number one his face turned beet red and and he fell back on the bed.

“Adrien!?” Plagg exclaimed as he flew to the frozen blond. “What happen.... oh no Fucking way.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Marinette was about to press the button when another pop up appeared.

“List updated?”

Marinette clicked out of Luka’s profile and noticed he was now at second place.

“Luka got moved to second.” Marinette spoke with surprise.

“What? Then whose first?”

Marinette scrolled up. Her eyes went Wide.

“ADRIEN!?!?” Marinette shouted.

Alya smiled.

“I knew it! I told you he would be on your list! And Number one to boot. So what is the percentage. 82? 85% Like Nino and I?”

“100...” Marinette spoke hardly audible.

Alya couldn't hear.

“How much?”

Marinette turned her phone to Alya.

Alya’s jaw dropped.

“1.... 100%!!!!!!!!!!”

_______________________________________________________________________

Plagg could not contain his laugher. The blond was still frozen staring at his screen. Adrien had no idea how right he was. His Lady and him were perfect for each other. Plagg was absolutely loving every second of this.

“P-Plagg.”

The black cat managed to calm down.

“Ye Ha HA! Yea Adrien?” Plagg responded between laughing fits.

“Marinette is Ladybug.”

Plagg sobered up quick.

“What... What makes you say that?” Plagg spoke, trying his best and failing at hiding the fact that Adrien was right. Thankfully Adrien was too out of it to notice.

Plagg pauses.

“Ladybug is my soulmate, Marinette scored perfect compatibility with me on the soulmate app. Even with error included, the chances of that happening are…”

“It’s a silly quiz.” Plagg shouted. Tikki would kill him if Adrien found out at the wrong time. He had to play dumb.

Adrien thought about it, maybe he was overthinking it, plus Alya and Nino scored around 85%. Maybe the system was glitching out? 100% was unheard off according to what he found about the app, even with people who tried it and have been married for decades.

“I guess you are right… Besides, you answer questions each day, the percentages will shift. Maybe the system will correct itself, though I should ask Marinette what her thoughts are about the match up tomorrow. Though... even if it isn't Ladybug... Marinette is a pretty nice person to have good compatibility with.”

Adrien felt himself entertaining the thought of him and Marinette together. It seemed really, really nice. He found himself blushing at the thought. He quickly shook the thought off. He was getting ahead of himself. What if Marinette didn't feel the same way he did? What if Luka saw the compatibility score that Marinette got with him and decided not to date Marinette because of it. Marinette does really like that musician, what if Marinette hates him for ruining her chance at happiness!?

Adrien took a calming breath. He won't say anything, the app still needs to fine tune his profile. he is sure it will correct itself if it needs to within the two weeks, after that, he will look into it.

“I am sure that things will fix themselves.” Adrien said as he turned away from the cat Kwami, though part of him really hoped that the 100% would stay.

_______________________________________________________________________

THERE I FINISHED part 1

If you want part two, please let me know. I love hearing feedback and it feeds my impulsive need to write.

#ml #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #soulmate survey #soul mate survey #adrienette #lovesquare #ladynoir #djwifi #alyanino #alynino #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #drama #If this gets 1000 notes I will write part two #or if this get fanart #I am a sucker for fanart #I cave to pressure very easily

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seerofmike · 5 years ago

Note

i feel like a huge portion of kpop fans are gay fetishists attracted to the idea of quote unquote feminine men and thats why theres so much bullshit

YES okay. okay let me rant for a minute. let me preface this by saying i am NOT a kpop shipper at ALL. this is going to be long so i’ll put it under a’ ‘read more’ because i’ve been holding it in for TWO FUCKING YEARS BABY!

being mlm in boygroup kpop fandom is literally so exhausting. 99% of the people who ship real life human men from boygroups are fetishists and i will tell u why

obviously we all know of a ship in a fandom where the characters' personalities are twisted to fit the heteronormative view of "top" and "bottom" --one character is hypermasculine (top) and the other one is feminine (bottom). there are typical traits associated with both. the ‘top’ is scary or mean or angry or serious while the ‘bottom’ is emotional or bubbly or shy. while this is egregious, at least its fictional characters. their personalities can be simplified or exaggerated and it doesnt cause any real life harm.

im going to define what i think of as a fetishist: a non-mlm person who overly sexualizes gay men/men they think are gay/gay ships, and forces them into heteronormative roles for their own pleasure. its not even limited to cishet women. plenty of non-mlm lgbt people do this too and its like disheartening. so anyways

enter the kpop fandom

i may be incredibly biased here because one of the most affected members [of bts] is my favorite kpop boy, but oh god is the ‘personality change/simplification’ thing AWFUL here. i do not go out of my way to find fanart or see fanfic threads, but being in the bts fandom, u will inevitably see it and i REALLY wish i didnt

so anyways. my favorite boy ever is hoseok. he is sweet and hardworking and very passionate about dance and he can be serious when needed, but ultimately he tries to be very lighthearted and will consistently laugh or make jokes or do something funny when the other members feel uncomfortable or awkward (mostly during english-speaking interviews). he kisses the members on the cheek a lot/hugs them a lot/cuddles them a lot [this is important for later okay]

of course, theres a lot more to him because he is a multi-faceted real life human being, and i don’t know him personally, but that’s a general idea of what he’s like, okay?

SHIPPERS will have you think differently. some video got popular on youtube ""proving"" that hoseok is a sadist (which is just clips of him jokingly playfighting with the younger members), and the video depicts him as secretly mean and serious, and shippers will use that to say "hoseok is a total top!" and then most fanart or imagines or fanfic threads you see are top!hoseok, using this imagined 'hoseok is a sadistic dom' narrative to fuel their fiction, because SOMEONE has to be the top, so they twist him into this hypermasculine mean person (and probably feminize the 'bottom' of their ship but more on that later)

EXCEPT it is not just fiction. this narrative bleeds into REAL LIFE. you have new armys who dont know anything about the shipping scene, and yet somehow the narrative of hoseok being a secretly mean, sadistic person has already made its way into them. in real life, hoseok likes rainbows and wearing nail stickers and putting glitter in his hair. yet people in the fandom will say shit like "hoseok hates femininity" "hoseok would never wear [thing] because he's a dom"

sometimes on twitter you have ppl like me who say uh actually you guys are really weird and this is fetishy and in real life hoseok is very nice and not sadistic at all, you will UNDOUBTEDLY get comments like "omg hoseok isnt cute/nice when will yall learn he’s secretly like [x] and [x]". you could post a video of hoseok with a puppy titled "wow cute" and u will get like 2 clowns in ur comments going 'hoseok isnt CUTE hes a sadist’ . i wish i was joking but i am not. they will do this for EVERY action hoseok does. he cannot blink without people twisting it into a sexual thing

[also, side note: its funny that, since hoseok is one of the least popular members and therefore one of the least shipped members, he is often the odd man out among pairings, and is assigned 'the straight one' by default, and 9 times out of 10 people who assign him 'the straight one' do all this 'dom daddy hoseok' shit.

which just goes to show that this is indeed a matter of heteronormativity.]

so anyways arguably the most popular ship with hoseok is with yoongi, sope. this absolutely happens to other ships probably but im just using them as an example because i see it the most, being a hobi stan

yoongi is very calm and thoughtful and kind and sometimes appears to be cold/having a bad attitude but its just because of the way he speaks, which is very bluntly. again hes a multi faceted real human and i do not know him personally but thats generally what hes like.

god the fandom. treats him SO BAD. so horribly. he's shorter than hoseok. he's shorter than hoseok and people will exaggerate that literal 1 inch height difference so bad and people will turn his whole personality into shy and blushy and In Love With Hoseok, so in love with hoseok that ‘he gets sad’ when hoseok doesn’t kiss him/hug him/or whatever and IT BLEEDS INTO REAL LIFE.

ANY time hoseok or yoongi do ANYTHING together at ALL, people will ALWAYS push the narrative that hoseok, being the mean sadist he is, is 'hurting' yoongi for not returning his undying love or whatever. hoseok did a vlive where he made bracelets for all the members and he considered putting a cat charm on yoongi's but ultimately decided not to because he was having difficulty and oh my GOD sope stans twisted it into 'hoseok HATES yoongi, yoongi would have been so happy, he would have worn that all the time, hoseok isnt affectionate he hates being close with other people after all :(' which is LITERALLY not true because hoseok gives all his homies good night kisses but okay! whatever fits your narrative!

PEOPLE ACTUALLY HATE HOSEOK BECAUSE OF THIS. BECAUSE OF A SHIP. BECAUSE OF THE MANUFACTURED NARRATIVE PUSHED ONTO HIM BY FETISHISTS SO HE COULD FIT INTO THEIR HETERONORMATIVE ‘TOP’ ROLE. not to be all wahh wahh hoseok is one of the least popular members BUT THIS IS LITERALLY A CONTRIBUTING FACTOR.

everyone """headcanons""" hoseok to be a top so they will make him a MEAN HYPERMASCULINE person. everyone """headcanons""" yoongi as a bottom so they will make him a SOFT UWU HYPERFEMININE person. shippers are literally pigeonholing the two of them into fujoshi-esque roles for jack-off material.

anyways this all boils down to: gay fetishists will do anything, ANYTHING, to twist characters or real life fucking people to fit their heteronormative view of top and bottom. top=mean and masculine, bottom=soft and feminine. hoseok is a real life human being. yoongi is a real life human being. they both have real life human personalities, and yet shippers twist their personalities into the opposite to fit their narrative, to the point where nonshippers will genuinely view the two of them as something theyre not.

you have tons of armys that theorize that hoseok's happiness is just a mask he puts on to hide a cruel nature. on twitter. on youtube. in fanart and fanfiction. you have tons of armys that truly believe that, despite literally all the evidence, believe he hates being cute, he hates being happy, he hates the members, and hes secretly a dom daddy fuckboy who wants to bend yoongi over a table. hes a real life human being and fetishists doing their fetish thing has real life consequences.

the same is true for bottom!hoseok stans: they overexaggerate his more cutesy personality traits and he does have a 'feminine' figure i.e. he has a rly small waist but they will overexaggerate that as well and give him huge hips and its disgusting but dom!hoseok is far more frequent with far more devastating consequences so i used that as an example but they’re both bad.

people who """"headcanon"""" [like actually headcanon/firmly believe and not just joking or lighthearted] that members are gay will force these types of roles onto the members. if someone genuinely believes that like, yoongi is gay/bi/whatever, and then try to force this subby soft uwu persona onto him, they have no respect for gay people. they dont. gay people are simply objects for their fantasies. their view of gay people is so one-dimensional and so driven by fetishists’ ideas that its actually disheartening.

and god bitches will deadass be homophobic yet still ship real ass human idols. not just for bts specifically but all boygroup fandoms. sometimes when you search up an idol's name, [idol] gay will be trending--whether it be because of people saying "im gay for him" or whatever, and a LOT of cishet people will try 'clearing' the searches because being gay is bad or something. people normally ‘clear’ the searches if something like [idol fat] or [idol ugly] are trending, which im telling you so you know the context that people only clear the searches when bad things are happening.

[never forget that time 'jungkook gay' was trending and bitches were like "lets clear the searches!" but their pinned tweet said some shit like "sub jungkook x dom jimin coffee shop smut au thread 🌈". bitches also be like i cant be homophobic i ship taekook]

and hoseok and yoongi arent the only ones affected ! we could get into why namjoon and jin (another popular ship) are often assigned 'dad' and 'mom' respectively, or the fact that gay fetishists not only twist members' personalities to fit their ship narrative, but will also force tropes onto them i.e. taehyung/jungkook shippers who will literally demonize jimin and call him a slut or say that he's trying to 'get in the way of' of taekook or 'steal' taehyung/jungkook but thats a whole DIFFERENT rant baby! racism/asian fetishism is also definitely a present factor in all of this but this focus was primarily on gay fetishism and heteronormativity.

oh my god i could also get into the severe transphobia/trans fetishism in this fandom too but this post is already long enough as it is

tl dr: gay fetishists will fetishize real life people and it has actual real life effects and we should ban straight women from shipping mlm

#nobody is going to read this but i just needed to let it out man #fucking hate bts stans #fucking hate kpoppies #fuck u if ur not mlm like actually

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jeffhane · 4 years ago

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dynasty live watching: an incoherent post so that i’m not spoiling people on the twitter tl (i doubt any of this will be chronological or coherent enough to actually contain spoilers but better safe than sorry!)

oh my god the “previously on” - i forgot abt fallon and evan....

Theyre at a FUNERAL??? this was actually predicted but oh my god. if its steven i am going to be so mad. what an unfitting end to the- WAIT WHAT SIX MONTHS? what was that font;;;;:; whes sueiwjwk

copper arch🥵🥵🥵

this is cute. this is cute i like faloon pretty women so true

BYE I FORGOT ABT THIS VASE

fallon is genuinely such a bad person this is so bizarre,,,, i think she needs to calm down about oiterally everything ever

“This wedding is our chance to break the cycle of craziness” babe ur literally the one making the cycle of craziness

w. was that an ikmenn of liam getting his head off

JEFF MY BELOVED HE LOOKS STUNNING IN THAT OUTFIT. WHYS ALEXIS HERW “POWER COUPLE” YOU WERID MANIPULATIVE PERSON GET AWAY FROM HIM LOL

alexis is up to no good. bad bad jpeg. why do they write her dialogue like this

adam is acted so well lmao he’s the most unhinged person to ever exist *screams*

ohhh dominique, i don’t remember much abt her 😭😭😭 this woman she’s with is beautiful

ITS LAGGING????? i cannot Believe tjis

~rebrand~ ok girlboss!!!!!!!!! can we ship this businesswoman i dont recall her name with fallon???? id like that i think

too many plotlines have happened in too many minutes, i’m already forgettint things that have happened... isn’t blake supposed to be in prisoj? no? Ok: sure

adam is constantly doing this expression that is like 👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁 HI SAM HI SAM HI SAM BEAUTIFUL MAN I LOVE HIM WHOS THIS MAN

raf is so stunning ughhhh i’m loving the costumes this season, everyone looks great! is this man a sam love interest? nervous? that is kinda cute. i miss stevej though. sadness. so many emotions

UHHHH hi alexis sure ig ur here

~OMENS~ babe that’s a tad dramatic don’t you think?????????? “Ignore the lore at your own peril” alright

WHOS THAT? WHOS THAT? OH HER OK

bye everything is going wrong for this......:..:::... *rubs hands together evilly* that will certainly be entertaining

credit scene!!! such a beautiful cast! where’s anders, oh how i miss him... i miss monica too wasn’t she supposed to be BACK🤔🤔🤔🧐🧐🤨🤨

its a commercial break... havent had to watch the show with these for so long😑😑😑. getting american ads is so funny bc the vast majority of them are Not at all relevant... at all

BACK TO DYNASTY!!!!!! was that a slinky? huh? oh ok that’s why the marriage is happening at the manor. #whenyouonlyhaveoneset oh hi ok monica so shes not going to be here?????😑😔😳

WHY IS SHE GETTING A CAR I FEEL LIKE THATS FORESHAWDOIWIJG FOR UMMMMM.... NOT GOOD THINGS ..... ITS LAGGING AGAIN 🤨

blake having dinner... ok hi cristal,,,,; is the priest subplot back? that was a weird one

adam???? how on earth does adam work his way into everything? NEXT GUEST? HUH? are you cheating on your wife? HI CULHANE! HI!

“straight people are exhausting” i mean yes, objectively, absolutely, but culhane is #notstraight .... idk how i feel about sam and this man. also what? huh? staying here? ok cool ig

OHHHHH he got married i see i see

“Haven’t you milked the carrington cow already” but....... she is literally the person who deserves the stuff..... k......... i don’t like dominique but she was given the short end of the stick also blake stop manipulating people just bc they tell u the truth😶😶😶😶😶😶😶

frustrated that we haven’t seen fallon in any non-wedding related stuff yet i always liked her more ~dramatic~ plots . like she’s a sweetheart but i do want her to evolve beyond thsi. idk if that makes sense. ok bye

“A relative’s happy marriage” uh???? we live in a society😔📈

who is father lynch<3333 oh he is in the hospital that’s not great oh adam upset that’s new /s

y is kirby dressed like an elf. god bless.

ughhhh i just think adam is not good for kirby. he’s not good in general. so true . what is he up to. ads again hhhhhhhhhh💯

omg we are back!!!!! blake wear the suit!! hi liz!!! i’ve seen pictures of this outfit, it looks nice. “I really want things to work out with liam” now that would be great but you’re in a soap opera so the chances of that are .... I DONT EVEN ONOW IF U CAN WEATHER ANYTHING W CRISTAL...)))))!$$ NOT NECESSARILY THE BEET CHOICE????

~technically it wasn’t cancelled~ alright love i feel as though you’re not telling the full truth here. ok his name is ryan . we know that now . cool . this relationship is awkward but it could be sweet

what the Fuck is dominique talking about this is so creepy😭😭😭 please do not market lingerie to ur niece 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂 why does no one in this show know how to be polite

“You want me to stake my personal assets” i’m sure this would be meaningful if i knew anything about finance????? WAIT WAIT WIAT WAIT WAIT DHE REHEARING THE SAM DONS G THE SONG ALEXIS DONT INTERRUPT HER SINGING THE SONG🧐😔😔😔🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🥰🥰🤬😤😤😤😤😤😤

~duplicitous sham~ that’s quite a juicy phrase ms fallon. alexis i dislike your marriage. and you in fact. yes x . “We were just like any other newlyweds” except the newlywed factor........:

anders. oh my god i adore him so much. he reminds me of my grandfather . YES adam is dangerous. anders i love you so much. be my grandfather figure. top 10 cool old dudes of all time.

liz is so beautiful how am i suppised to “Focus” on the “storyline” kirby just went 🥰🥰 also hi culhane ily babe

“My father’s convinced adam is pure evil” you see, that is......... trueeeee...........:.::: im sorry culhane ily love

this dialogue unfortunately does not flow all that well LOL . people dont think up things like this on the fly “my love is like that boutineer” sir i guarantee that metaphors r not going to save ur relationship... HI sam. so true. hi ily. samhane? culsam? 😳😳

DONT STEAL ANDERS SPOT OH HI JEFF YOU LOOK STUNNING.......... BEAUTIFUL BOY ....... HI!!!! ~you are the only family you’ve ever needed~ shit none of this wouldve happened if the Carringtons werent so greedy ij the first place

~true love has many faces~ how many anti liam omens can they sneak in into the episode 😭😭😭😭 hi laura whats up

the poor waiters at this establishment...... why does laura look like a rlly young version of my grandma........: huh.... wont think abt it /... alexis bad mom.jpeg

“I don’t want to miss my sons special day” ok bye i don’t #care she’s kind of rude

fallon trying to avoid future drama is confusing to me as that used to be her ENTIRE THING? HUH??? everyones talking to their moms today what the heck do that many people talk to their moms???

jeff hiiiii <333 that maroon suit!!!!! love!!!!!

Dont hurt anders you strange little evil man!!!!!!!!!!! (Adam, for reference)

fallon likes to ~e n u n c i a t e~ her dialogue. Drama Teachers Love Her

FIRBY SCENE! WELL THEY R TALKINF! UWU ! UWU ! smiles:) smiiiiiles:) the height difference i cannot do this😑😊😊😊🕯🕯🕯 BYE

BueirHWIIDWJDIWIFJWIFJWJJFWJFJWJDJWJDJWIFJWJFJWJDKWJDJWDJJWHDWHDHWHEHWHDHWJDJWJRJWJEJWJDJQUEUWJEJWJEJW CRIES SOBS SCREAMS THIS OS SO FUCKING FUNNY

Kirby you dumbass😭😭😭😭😭 ALEXIS WUDIWNDJW JEFF CAN YOU NOT HEF FCANKREMTIWN WHY IS THIS DIALOGUE IM SCREAMIGNRJFJD

kirby babe you are the kist imorjri WHQT? HUH? when all the characters have the maturity of a 13 yr old <33333 DID THE SHOW JUST END?????? OK.... DAMN.... they were really 2 minutes away from the end and remembered that things are supposed to happen in tv show episodes.... i cannot tell whether it os over actually?????? huh??? going to keep watching because it would be so embarrassing if i missed a few minutes oh yeah theres more

IM SORRY WHYBARE THESE PEOPLE SO STUPID. every single one of them. ih my god l. ohhhh my god . “I never meant to hurt you” you cheated on him. both of them are bad people. 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 kirby darling what were you thinking . this dress on kirby is STUNNING ugh, she’s so charming . adam Shut the fuck up. He hasn’t said anything but shut the fuck up. OH MY GOD ADAM SHUT THE FUCK UP. OH MY GOD I HATE ADAM SO MUXH. OH MY GOD HOW IS HE THE WORST PERSON TO EVER LIVE 😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶 HES SO EVIL

“I didn’t want to tell you because i didnt want you to think of me as a monster” why did you do that stuff then bro . Kirby you SHOULDNT trust someone after they say that? How naive? Huh ?

omg hello jeffs grandma!!!!! she deserves better than every shitshow in this family... god🤨 dominique being a good person? i like to see that. she seems so genuine. ok this is nice . wait... SAFE? 😳😳😳😳 💴 💵 #money i miss monica

why do they never have sufficient lifhting in WAIT..... HER?????? #dumbofass HI JEFF <33333333 HI you can scam and whatever ur allowed to i support u

ooohhhh GORGEOUS fallon outfit

“Such a fail” IS THIS 2012 . CRINE HEIDJWJFIWNDWJDNWKFJW ENJDJSDJWJNDJWJD they keep saying folklore and im thinking its some sort of reference to the album and i get confused. wheres scheming fallon. need scheming fallon. do a scheme. do it

“We are that lucky couple” press x to doubt .... wait who is this🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 this seems cincerning im cocnentwd why did it zoom in on this random man

#how many ads are there you ask?#too many #i never watch things live #this is .... a lot #american cell service is so cheap #cruella de vil ad😭#how does the cw app work #more ads ig #i dont have the attention span to remember what happened before the ads

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calumcest · 4 years ago

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

[ao3]

yes i missed last week but i have a good excuse i was in hospital when i was supposed to be posting we’re back on our scheduled bullshit this week also sidenote can we please appreciate that i have actually stuck to this schedule for nearly TWO MONTHS ?? i’m actually dead gassed w myself i really should do this with soulmate au maybe once britpop is finished i will replace monday evenings with soulmate au. do not hold me to that though i work on whims

of course i must thank my lovely @tirednotflirting who has been suffering in this document with me as i struggled through this chapter i cant lie to you sam your little comments and just knowing that you’re watching me suffer feel like a little pat on the head thats like gwarn you can do it so thank u for that <3 and also this chapter owes the life i have forcibly breathed into it to @kaleidoscopeminds who listened to me scream about it for like half of today and helped me navigate part of it i hope i have done it some slight justice

Michael insists that he knows a great local chippy, but when he turns into yet another residential street with no shops in sight after a good five minutes in the freezing cold, Calum frowns.

“Thought you said it was local?” he says.

“It is,” Michael says. “Never said it was local to me, though.” Calum stops, and stares at him.

“Are you serious?” he demands, edged with a little uncertainty, because he’s not quite sure whether they’re there yet, not after one conversation, and Michael laughs, bright and loud. It makes Calum’s stomach flip, and he’s not quite sure whether it’s pleasant or unpleasant, or maybe just because he’s absolutely fucking starving.

“It’s not far,” Michael promises. “Two minutes, tops.”

“This had better be the best fucking fish and chips I’ve ever had,” Calum grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and nosing into the collar of his coat. Jesus, isn’t London supposed to be warmer than the north? He’s not inhaling all this pollution for nothing.

True to Michael’s word, though, another street-and-a-half later they’ve made it to the chippy, and Michael shoves the door open with his shoulder, pushing it far enough that Calum can make it through before it swings shut again.

“Fuck me, it’s warm in here,” Calum mutters, pulling his hands out of his pockets and stretching his fingers experimentally, wincing as that horrible burning sensation of a sudden temperature change shoots through them.

“It’s what, maybe fifteen degrees?” Michael says, amused. “What sort of a fucking Australian are you?” Calum glares at him instinctively, and then falters, because he’s still not sure exactly where he stands, but Michael just laughs, turning to the menu.

“They do a good battered sausage,” he tells Calum, who reaches around into his pocket for his wallet as he blinks up at the prices. Fucking hell, two quid for a bag of chips? And Noel and Liam want to move down here?

“Who the fuck goes to a chippy and gets a battered sausage?” Calum says, scanning the menu, and frowning. “Where are the mushy peas?”

“The what?”

“The mushy peas.”

“What the fuck is that?” Calum tears his eyes away from the menu to stare at Michael.

“What the fuck are you on about?” he says. “Y’know, mushy peas?”

“Is that some kind of northern thing?” Michael asks, and Calum frowns. Surely not; mushy peas are a fucking staple of a fish-and-chip dinner, aren’t they? What the fuck do they eat down south if not mushy peas? Mushy capers, or something?

“Can’t be,” Calum says, still frowning, turning back to the menu. “What the fuck else do you eat with-”

“Hang on a minute,” Michael interrupts, frowning. “Is that- is that Liam? ” Calum cuts himself off abruptly, blood running cold.

What?

“What?” he says, and hopes Michael can’t hear the way his heart is in his throat, spinning wildly on the spot and trying to follow Michael’s gaze.

“Over there,” Michael says, sounding mildly intrigued and moderately confused, and nods in the direction of a table in the corner.

Sure enough, there, frowning down at his chips as he shakes out a sachet of ketchup and says something indecipherable to Noel, who’s sat opposite him - Calum would know the back of that head anywhere, sees the top of it enough with the five inches he has on him - is Liam.

Fuck.

Shit.

“D’you want to go over?” Michael says, and Calum swallows.

What the fuck is he supposed to say? He can’t imagine no, because I’ll get kicked out of my band, and you might get murdered will go down well. It doesn’t really matter, though, because his hesitation is an answer in itself.

“They don’t know you’re here, do they?” Michael’s voice is a little heavy, a little bitter, and a little sad. It makes Calum’s stomach curl in on itself, like it’s trying to make itself too small to feel anything anymore.

“They know I’m here,” Calum says. “Just- not to see you.” What’s the point in lying? That’s been the whole point of him coming down here, hasn’t it? Stop lying to Michael, start lying to Liam and Noel instead. It’s like Calum has a limited amount of honesty to go around, can’t keep himself in one piece, has to hand people little parts of himself so they won’t see the full thing. It’s fucking exhausting, especially when he hasn’t got booze or drugs to numb the pain of the pieces he keeps chopping himself into. Maybe it would have been easier if he’d stayed in Manchester, if he’d said no when Michael offered his phone number.

(But, Calum knows, somewhere in the depths of his ragged soul, that no matter how many worlds there are out there, no matter how many parallel universes, there could never be one in which he could say no to Michael.)

“Why?” Calum can’t help but bark out a short, humourless laugh at that as he turns around, heart beating wildly, praying Liam hasn’t seen them.

“They’d fucking kill me. And you.” Michael glances over at Liam again, frowning slightly, and then looks back at Calum, confusion lacing the green-blue of his eyes, like he’s trying to work out what Calum really means by that. Calum thinks he’s been pretty fucking clear, isn’t really sure what Michael’s searching for in his eyes, until Michael opens his mouth, and says:

“Are you ashamed of me?” Jesus. Does Michael really want to do this here? In a fucking London fish-and-chip shop?

“No,” Calum says. “Can we- can we do this somewhere else? Just-” he cuts himself off, and Michael purses his lips, considering, and then sighs, nods, and heads for the door. Calum nigh on fucking runs after him, speedwalks out and halfway down the street until he thinks they’re a safe enough distance away, and then stops, letting Michael round on him.

“Why haven’t you told them?” Michael asks, and Calum can see all the hurt swimming in his eyes and thinks fuck, not now, not just when I’ve got you again.

“They’re-” Calum stops. He’s not really sure how to phrase it. Fucking cunts is probably the closest he can get, but then he’d have to try and explain why despite that, despite the fact that neither Liam nor Noel have a rational bone in their bodies, Calum loves them, and would do anything for them. “Not exactly reasonable, when it comes to this shit.” Michael raises an eyebrow.

“‘Not exactly reasonable’?” he echoes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Calum shrugs, a little uncomfortably.

“They take this whole Blur-Oasis thing very seriously,” he says, and Michael frowns.

“They do?” He sounds surprised.

“Don’t you?”

“No,” Michael says. “Damon thinks it’s a fucking laugh.” Calum almost groans. Fucking hell, isn’t that just brilliant? He gets stuck with the mental northern lads who can’t take anything seriously except the one thing they don’t need to, and Michael gets the sensible southern boys who’ll listen to reason and probably hold hands while they do.

(Calum wouldn’t change it for the fucking world, though.)

“Well, Noel and Liam don’t,” Calum says. “I’d get chucked out of a window if they knew I so much as thought about you.” Michael stares at him.

“They’re mental,” he says, incredulously. “They’re absolutely fucking mental. What is this, fucking Montagues and Capulets?”

“That’s what they’d have you believe,” Calum says, shoving his hands back in his coat pockets. Michael blinks.

“Jesus,” he says, after a moment. “So they don’t even know we’re talking?” Calum can’t help but bark out a short, humourless laugh at that.

“No,” he says. “No. Noel would- and Liam- no. No.” His stomach churns as a number of thoughts flash through his mind - Noel and Liam screaming at him, kicking him out of the band, never speaking to him again - and he shakes his head, half to try and clear his head of the thoughts and half to emphasise just how much Calum can’t tell them.

“So, what, I’m your dirty little secret?” Michael sounds a little bitter about it, and Calum can’t really blame him, but that doesn’t stop his heart twisting a little in his chest at the tone of his voice.

“I- look,” Calum says, a little desperately. “This is my life, Michael.” Michael inhales deeply, doesn’t exhale, just looks at Calum, weighing something up in his mind. His eyes are a little sad, a little angry, heavier and older than Calum remembers them ever being. It sends a tiny shiver down his spine, but for the first time the irrefutable evidence of Michael changing doesn’t make him feel a little queasy. Instead, it’s oddly thrilling, seeing the new self-assuredness and confidence with which Michael makes his decisions, no longer based purely on a split-second emotion. It drives home that Michael’s different, now, that things aren’t the same as they were back then, but in a way that makes Calum think maybe different could be better.

“Alright,” Michael says eventually, on a long exhale. “I- okay. I get it. They’re your band, right?” He pauses, and then smiles, a little sheepishly. “And to be honest, I haven’t told anyone you’re here today, either.” Calum blinks at him.

“Hypocrite,” he says, but it’s soft, tentative, no heat to it. Michael grins all the same, and it just about manages to reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he says, protesting a little. “They at least know we’re talking.” Calum hesitates.

“What’ve you told them?” he asks. Michael shrugs.

“Just that we’ve spoken on the phone a few times,” he says. “I mean, it’s not like I could avoid it, after Graham picked up your call on my birthday.” Oh, shit. Yeah.

“Oh,” Calum says. “Yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, grimacing a little.

“Did he ever tell Damon you locked him in a bathroom?” Michael laughs, bright and a little surprised, like he’s taken aback that Calum remembers that.

“No,” he says. “But for the price I paid, he’d better keep his mouth shut about everything I ever fucking do for the rest of my life.” Calum raises an eyebrow, and Michael grins, properly this time, and shakes his head.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” he says, and takes a step back, walking back into the stream of people that have been passing by.

“Oh, c’mon,” Calum says, falling into step with Michael, who just laughs again. “You can’t say that and not tell me.”

“I’m not telling you,” Michael says. “I take this Blur-Oasis shit seriously, y’know? Can’t be fraternising with the enemy." Calum throws him a sharp glance, but Michael’s still grinning, eyes sparkling with something a little mischievous that reminds Calum so much of the Michael he once knew that he falters, almost trips over his own feet.

“Is that why you’re trying to starve me to death?” Calum says, testing the waters. Michael snorts.

“You were the one that wanted out of the best fish and chip shop in London, my friend,” he says, mock-snootily. “Luckily for you, I’m feeling particularly magnanimous today, so I’ll take you to a good Italian place.” Calum raises an eyebrow.

“Magnanimous?” he echoes. “Since when do you know words that long?”

“Damon’s rules,” Michael says. “Have to learn at least five new words a week, and a spelling test on Sundays.” Calum blinks at him.

“Really?”

“No, you fucking idiot,” Michael says, a little incredulously, a lot amused. “Jesus, don’t they do sarcasm up north?”

“Better than most,” Calum says. “It just sounds like something Damon would do, is all.” Michael laughs, turning to grin at Calum over his shoulder as he pushes the door to a small Italian place open.

“He did make me read Siddhartha before he let me join the band,” he admits, and Calum makes a noise of triumph.

“See?” he crows, and Michael just laughs again, and Calum thinks the warmth stealing over him really has nothing to do with the central heating in the restaurant.

-------

They spend a leisurely hour or two in the restaurant, talking about absolutely nothing of import, skirting around anything that seems like it might get a little too serious, and Calum’s grateful for it. His carbonara tastes all the creamier when Michael starts pointing out passers-by, commenting on their frowns or their fast walks or their hideous coats, making Calum grin and splutter into his drink with every wicked and quick comment he makes. It’s almost like the old days, has the same sharp wit and ease that Michael’s tongue has always been good with, but is a little more refined than then, has something more mellow to it, like Michael’s no longer trying to impress Calum or keep him by his side. It’s oddly heady, actually, the new sheen of confidence that polishes all of Michael’s words before they leave his mouth, makes Calum lose his focus every once in a while as he just stares at the easy self-assuredness held in Michael’s shoulders, until Michael waves a hand in front of his face and says Earth to Calum, a small smile playing at his lips, a slight glimmer in his eyes. Calum can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed, though, still knows Michael well enough to read the smile as a pleased one, the glimmer as charmed, and just grins back, trying to stop his heart from jumping from his chest to his throat to his feet to his stomach and back again.

It’s already getting dark by the time they head out of the restaurant - fucking December, honestly - and they take their time walking back to Michael’s house, wandering down side street after side street as Michael tells Calum about the difficulties he’s been having with his neighbour. Calum just listens, nodding and sighing and calling the neighbour a cunt in all the right places, and by the time they’re back at Michael’s house, it’s fully dark, the two of them bathed in the harsh orange light of the London streetlights.

“When’s your train?” Michael asks, digging in his pocket for his keys and sliding them into the lock.

“I, uh,” Calum says. “Didn’t book a specific one.” Michael raises an eyebrow at him over his shoulder as he unlocks the door, then steps inside and holds the door for Calum to walk in.

“Why not?” he asks, flicking the light switch on, and Calum shrugs, busying himself with pulling his shoes off.

“Wasn’t sure how long I’d be here,” he says. Michael just hums at that as he kicks his own shoes off, like he’s mulling it over.

“When are Liam and Noel heading back?” he asks, and Calum shrugs again, a little more tense this time.

“Don’t know,” he says. “Probably no later than six. Liam’ll want to be on the piss by nine.”

“Not much else to do up there, I s’pose,” Michael says, a little flippantly, heading into the living room, making Calum frown as he follows.

“There’s plenty to do,” he says, a little indignantly, and Michael turns back, throws him a slightly-amused look over his shoulder.

“Proper Manny boy now, aren’t you?” he says, settling down on the overstuffed armchair opposite the sofa again, curling his legs underneath himself. Calum sits down on the sofa, stretches out for a moment to try and crack his back, and then settles back against it with a scowl.

“It’s home,” Calum says, surprising himself with the sincerity with which the words are saturated. Michael cocks his head, and Calum knows what he’s thinking. When did Sydney stop being home to you?

“D’you not ever miss it?” he says, but he only really sounds curious. Calum shrugs.

“Not really,” he says. “I only really- uh. Miss the people.” He averts his gaze, tries to stop his cheeks heating up. He’d almost said I only really miss you.

“Luke and Ashton are flying over in January,” Michael says. “You should come down and see them.” Calum swallows.

“Depends when,” he says. “Think we’re back over in America in January.” Michael frowns.

“You’ll be at the NME awards, though, won’t you?” he says.

“Well, yeah, but so will Noel and Liam,” Calum says, and Michael’s face falls. Only fractionally, so slight that if Calum weren’t instinctively tuned into Michael’s frequency he would have missed it, but he is, so he doesn’t.

“Oh,” Michael says. “Yeah. Right. Well, I know they’d love to see you.”

“Mm,” Calum says, a little uncomfortably. He hates this, doesn’t want to be in a position where he has to pick his old life or his new.

“I told them,” Michael says, and he sounds a little apologetic.

“Told who?”

“Luke and Ashton. About us, y’know. Talking again.” Calum’s stomach flips. Right. So now the entirety of Blur and two of his friends from five years ago know, and his own best friends don’t. Brilliant.

“Oh,” he says, and Michael has the dignity to look a little ashamed.

“They were happy,” he offers, like it’ll assuage any of the guilt that’s bonded itself so tightly to each one of Calum’s blood cells he barely remembers what it’s like to walk around without their heavy burden weighing him down. “They’ve been asking after you.”

“Oh?” Calum says, and hopes Michael doesn’t hear the thickness of his voice.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “Luke’s finished his pilot training, now. He was in Japan the same time as me, so we went for a coffee.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Good,” Michael says, “yeah, good. Misses Ashton when he’s away, but.” He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not sure what else he expected, becoming a pilot.” Calum huffs out a laugh, a little bitter, a little amused.

“And Ashton’s a teacher?” he says, and Michael nods. “What does he teach?”

“RE, I think,” Michael says. Calum snorts, but it’s sort of fond.

“Sounds like Ashton,” he says, and Michael grins.

“At least he put all those fucking books about Buddhism and that to good use,” he says.

“D’you remember when he tried to make us all read the entire Bible?” Calum says, and Michael laughs, short and bright.

“I remember him being beside himself when we just circled all the verses about masturbating,” Michael says, and Calum finds a laugh punched out of him by a sudden memory, surprising him with its intensity.

“D’you remember Luke made it through the entire Old Testament?” he says, and Michael’s smile grows, and he nods.

“The things love makes you do,” he says, grinning, and Calum’s smile falters.

Yeah. Love can make people go to the ends of the Earth for each other, or make someone read the entire Old Testament, or maybe even make someone lie to their best friends and put their entire career on the line. Calum doesn't want to think about that.

(It can't be that, anyway. It just can't.)

Michael seems to sense the change in Calum’s mood, because he shifts a little uncomfortably and clears his throat.

“Are you staying home for Christmas, then?” he says, and Calum blinks, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Is Mali coming?”

“No,” Calum says. “Can’t stand a cold Christmas, she says.” Michael smiles, a little wistfully.

“Took me a while to get used to,” he says. “Fuck me, the first time it snowed? ”

“Oh, God, I know,” Calum says, a little more fervently than he’d intended to. “I thought it’d be all soft, y’know? Liam fucking saw to that misconception. Turned up at my house with a bunch of pre-made snowballs, the prick. Looked like I’d got battered in a pub brawl, or something.” Michael snorts.

“No one ever mentioned how slippery it is, either,” he says.

“Or how nasty it is when it melts,” Calum agrees.

“Or how wet it is in your hair,” Michael says. Calum raises an eyebrow.

“It’s water,” he says. “You could’ve worked that one out for yourself.” Michael rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Fuck off,” he says. “Where’s the Aussie solidarity?”

“Gone as soon as you insulted Manchester,” Calum tells him, and Michael laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“S’pose there are a few good things about it,” he concedes, eyes glittering. “One, in particular.” Calum swallows.

“Oasis are pretty good, yeah,” he says, and Michael's eyes flash with amusement.

“Pretty subpar bassist, though,” he says conversationally.

“Is that so?” Calum says. Michael looks at ease, relaxed and sunk back into his armchair, smile on his face and eyes lit up with laughter, but Calum can’t help but feel hesitant, a little afraid to lean too far into the comfortable familiarity of the conversation. What if Michael changes his mind?

"Mm," Michael says. "Personally, I think they just keep him in for his looks." Calum raises an eyebrow, tries not to let the way his heart's just skipped a beat show on his face. It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. It's just Michael's sense of humour.

"What, with Liam in the band?" Calum says, and Michael scrunches his face up.

"He's too pretty for me," he says, and then unscrunches his face again and raises his eyebrows. "Mind you, though, I wouldn't say no if-"

"You fucking would if you know what's good for you," Calum tells him, and Michael laughs.

"Would I?" he says, eyes gleaming. "Think I'd need a more tempting offer." He's looking at Calum in anticipation, like he's expecting a certain response, and it makes Calum swallow - twice, because his heart doesn't know how to behave.

"I'll see what I can do," he says, and Michael grins at him.

Right answer.

-------

The journey back home is uneventful.

Michael had kindly forgotten to inform Calum of just how much of a rush hour rush hour really is in London, meaning he has to wait for three tubes to pass before he makes it to the edge of the platform, and then has to spend the two stops back to Euston shoved uncomfortably against the glass that divides the seats from the door area. At least it’s only two stops, though, he tells himself, tumbling off the train with a bunch of serious-looking commuters, half of whom seem to be headed back to Manchester. Calum’s train is already packed when he gets on, even though he walks all the way to the end so he won’t have to walk far when he gets to Piccadilly, and he ends up having to sit next to a family of three, an exhausted mother scolding her two young children and trying to get them to sit still. Calum offers her a small smile, wishing he’d brought a book or his Walkman or something, and settles for staring blankly out of the window to the other side of the four-year-old girl on his left, trying to make out shapes in the inky darkness of the night so he doesn’t have to focus on his thoughts.

It turns out not to matter much, though, because even when the train’s whipping through the countryside and the children are still kicking up a fuss about something or other, Calum can’t focus on anything at all, zoning out entirely and feeling a bone-deep tiredness seeping through him, gluing him to his seat. He prefers it that way, though, prefers that he doesn’t have to feel anything but an echo of guilt for a while, lets it steal over him as he closes his eyes and tips his head back against the seat.

He must fall asleep for a while, because it feels like no time at all before a bustle of commotion wakes him up, and he finds everybody on their feet, patting their pockets and reaching for coats and bags. He blinks a few times, rubs his eyes, and then stands up, fumbles around in his pocket for his ticket as he files out of the train with everyone else. It’s surprisingly cold in Piccadilly, and he draws his coat around himself as he swerves around the mother and kids to beat them to the barriers, shoving his ticket in and stepping through. It feels like another threshold, like he's crossing back from a dream world into the real world, and he tries not to think about it too hard as he heads out to the bus stop.

The bus journey back home is cold and expensive, and by the time Calum gets home he thinks he might be in danger of losing a few of his limbs to the frosty air. It’s toasty warm inside the house, though, and there’s a plate of chicken and rice covered in cling film waiting for him on the kitchen counter, and Calum sticks it in the microwave, listens to the muffled sound of the TV floating out from the living room as he waits for his food to finish before taking it out to the table.

The sound of the microwave dinging seems to have alerted his mum to his return, though, because no sooner has he sat down at the table than she's appeared in the doorway.

“Where’ve you been?” she asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“London,” Calum mumbles, through a mouthful of chicken and rice, and scoops another forkful in, just for good measure.

“To see Michael?” Calum falters, and then nods, averting his gaze. His mum sighs, loaded with something heavy that Calum decides he doesn’t want to pick apart. “And?”

“And what?”

“What happened?” Calum swallows, and shovels another loaded forkful of food into his mouth.

“Nothing,” he says, and hopes she’ll attribute the way he winced at the evasiveness of his tone to the fact the food is really fucking hot.

“Calum,” she starts, in that I’m about to give you a lecture voice that only parents (and Noel) can really manage, and Calum swallows again, chokes a little as the un-chewed food almost gets stuck in his oesophagus, and shakes his head.

“Don’t,” he says, a little sharply. “I’m twenty-two, mum.” She sighs again, a little exasperated this time.

“I know, but you’re still my kid,” she says. Calum inhales deeply, and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to have to explain every single tiny movement he makes, not every time he comes home. He doesn’t want to be monitored whenever he comes or goes, doesn’t want to have to answer to anyone. He’s not used to it anymore, not after so long on tour; he’s used to crashing into hotel rooms with a bagful of white powder and a body full of booze, one or two or maybe even three loud and brash Mancunians in tow, vision hazy around the edges from the weed he’s just taken a few hits of, used to sleeping three hours on a bus and waking up in a different city to the one he’d fallen asleep in. It feels oddly claustrophobic, now, coming home. He loves it, loves seeing his mum and his dad and eating proper meals and getting to potter around the house and go down the pub with Liam, but he’s outgrown it as a lifestyle. He’s too big for that little room upstairs, now, too big for this two-up two-down, maybe even too big for Manchester.

“I’m going to look at houses,” he blurts, before he’s even thought about it. A flash of something crosses his mum’s face, but she schools her features into something encouraging before he has a chance to really interpret it.

“That’s a good idea,” she says. “You’re old enough to be gone, now.” Calum nods, and brings another forkful of food to his mouth.

“In London,” he adds, and his mum blinks at him for a moment.

“Well, I suppose it makes sense,” she says, sounding far too brisk, like she’s forcing it. “That’s where the music industry is, isn’t it?” Calum nods.

“Noel and Liam are moving down, too,” he says, and she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s a recipe for disaster,” she says shrewdly, and Calum shakes his head.

“No, not together,” he says.

“Oh,” she says. “Well. You should probably still look for somewhere further away from them.” Yeah, he probably should.

(He won’t, though.)

“Yeah, maybe.” He’s almost finished his plate of food, wishes she would fucking leave, so he doesn’t have to have the rest of this conversation with her. She seems to get it, though, just sighs again, and pushes herself off the doorframe.

“Let us know if we can help with anything,” she says gently, and Calum throws her a tight smile as she leaves.

He’s not really sure where that came from. Okay, he’s been thinking about moving out for a while, but not in any concrete way; it’s very much been conceptual, something that he thinks he should probably do, but hasn’t been bothered to think about beyond that, something that’s stayed very firmly at the back of his mind. It feels right, though, he realises. He’d sort of thought it would be frightening, something that he was doing because he felt he had to rather than because he wanted to, but he feels oddly settled after saying it to his mum, like he's been making do in the dark and now he's turned on the light. It'll be good for him, he thinks, to live on his own.

Plus, he thinks, as he scrapes his chair back from the table, gathering up his plate and cutlery, Liam could probably do with a set of eyes on him, couldn’t he? And the fact that Kentish Town is close to Camden has absolutely nothing to do with it.

-------

Calum’s woken up at ten the next morning by a knock at the door.

“Mm?” he mumbles, not entirely sure whether he’s actually awake or not yet, and the door opens a crack to reveal his mum.

“Noel’s on the phone for you,” she says, and throws him a significant look that he chooses not to interpret. What the fuck does Noel want at ten in the morning?

“Tell him I’ll call him back,” he says, and she purses her lips.

“Tell him yourself,” she says, and tosses the handset at him. He squawks, flinching to avoid getting a hunk of plastic to the head - she’s never had the greatest aim - and then picks up the receiver that’s landed (painfully) on his forearm.

“What?” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“What were you really doing in London?” Jesus Christ. Straight to the fucking point.

“Running errands.”

“Bullshit.” Calum sighs.

“What the fuck d’you want me to say?” he says tiredly.

“You looked like you’d seen a fucking ghost when we came over,” Noel says.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you, was I?”

“You knew we were going to be in London. Liam says he told you.” Fuck’s sake.

“London’s a big fucking place, though, isn’t it?” Calum says. “Still didn’t expect to see you there.”

“Cut the fucking shit, Calum. I know who lives in Camden.” Calum’s blood runs cold. Shit. He should have known that they would have seen them in the chippy, should have made Michael leave faster, hide his face, turn away, anything. All it would have taken would have been one errant look from Liam, and the cat would have been out of the bag.

“Why the fuck are you so convinced this is some kind of conspiracy?” Calum bites out. Fight fire with fire, he thinks. Works for Liam, doesn’t it?

“I’m going to give you one chance to be honest with me,” Noel says. His voice is dangerously even, too controlled, that sort of wound-up serenity he gets a minute before he explodes, and Calum can’t even swallow, can’t get anything past the lump suddenly in his throat. “Were you or were you not seeing Thom Yorke?” Calum stops.

What?

“What?” he says. “No, I- what? What? I don’t even fucking know the bloke.”

“You spoke to him at Glastonbury, didn’t you?” Noel says, utterly hostile. Calum blinks.

“That was- that was six months ago.”

“So?” Noel sounds like he’s bristling. “First Blur, now Radiohead? Are you just working your way through our competition? Were you fucking him too?” There’s a bitter edge to his voice, and Calum’s mouth drops open as he tries to process what Noel’s accusing him of.

What?

“What the fuck?” Calum says incredulously. “I’m not fucking Thom Yorke. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You’d better be fucking certain about that, Calum, because-” Noel starts warningly, but Calum cuts him off.

“Jesus Christ, Noel, I’ve spoken to him once. I don’t know where the cunt lives. Why the fuck do you know where he lives?” There’s a pause.

“Alright,” Noel says, still tinged with suspicion, like he can’t quite let go of the idea that Calum had snuck to London to visit Thom fucking Yorke.

“You’re fucking insane,” Calum says, and doesn’t stop the derisiveness from leaking into his voice. Who the fuck rings someone at ten in the morning to accuse them of sleeping with a random bloke they haven’t seen in months? Noel’s acting like a fucking jealous ex, or something.

“I’m insane?” Noel says, a little coldly. “You’ve got previous, mate.” And yeah, that’s fair enough - more than fair enough, because Calum is going behind Noel’s back, is betraying his best friend and his band - and the thought of it makes the guilt chase the anger out of his veins, makes him slump back into his pillow and rub a hand over his eyes.

“Christ, Noel,” he says wearily. “You need to stop taking this shit so seriously. Let the music speak for itself.” Noel barks out a laugh.

“I take it seriously because none of the rest of you do,” he says.

“Just fucking relax,” Calum says.

“I’ll relax when I’ve made my millions,” Noel says. “Until then, you can get your fucking arse in the studio and make me some money.” Calum rolls his eyes.

“You snort all your money away,” he says.

“So?” Noel says. “Just have to make me more, then, won’t you?” Calum can’t help but huff out a laugh at that.

“You fucking idiot,” he says, but the smile playing at his lips makes it come out fond, and when Noel laughs this time, it’s soft and pleased.

“Aye,” he says. “But I’m no Liam.”

Well. He’s got a point.

-------

Christmas comes and goes without much fanfare, which is just how Calum likes it, and what he needed after all the months of touring.

He gets up early, yawning and rubbing at his eyes as he slaps a hand on his alarm clock to shut it up, and spots a tiny little stocking at the foot of his bed, despite the stern look and the you’re almost twenty-three, Calum, you’re too old for stockings his mum had given him the night before . He grins, stifling another yawn as he empties it onto his bed, collects the little chocolate coins that spill out and unwraps the small present to find a little travel-sized bottle of his favourite aftershave. It makes him smile, that even though he’s a fucking rockstar in the making now, his mum still buys him aftershave, and he tucks the little bottle into his still-packed suitcase so he won’t forget it when they leave for Scotland on Boxing Day.

His parents are both already up when he gets downstairs, showered and dressed and ready to help with cooking dinner, and he throws his dad a quick merry Christmas before heading into the kitchen where his mum is humming along to the tune blasting from the radio.

“Morning,” he says, and she whips around, throws him a cheery smile as she puts something in the oven. “Thanks for the aftershave.”

“What d’you mean, thanks?” she says, a twinkle in her eye. “Do I look like Father Christmas?” Calum tuts and rolls his eyes, presses a kiss to her cheek, and reaches for the carrots she’s been peeling.

“What needs doing?” he asks, and she smiles at him, starts telling him that after he’s done with the carrots he should get some sprouts out of the freezer, please, and then fetch some of that wine from outside - the good wine, mind, Calum, and I know you drank the really good wine and thought we wouldn’t notice - and Calum just grins sheepishly, nods along to what she’s saying as he slices up the carrots, hums along as she switches to talking about Janet and how she’s got a baby on the way now.

He’s halfway through chopping potatoes when the all-too-familiar drum beat of Supersonic starts up on the radio, a little fuzzy from the static. He starts, his heart lurching with adrenaline, and turns to his mum.

“That’s us,” he says excitedly, but she’s already reaching for the volume on the radio, turning it up and beaming.

“That’s you, isn’t it!” she says, sounding even more excited than him. “I like this one, actually. It feels very optimistic.” Calum bites the inside of his cheek, looks back down at his potatoes to try and stop himself laughing. Yeah, it was written while Noel was high as a fucking kite on coke; no wonder it sounds optimistic.

“I like it too,” he says, grinning as Liam’s voice starts filling the room, raw and velvet and a little grimy, just how Calum likes it. Only fucking rock ‘n’ roll star there is, now, me, Liam would say, if he were here, and Calum would roll his eyes, and Noel would probably cuff Liam upside the head, and Bonehead would laugh, and Tony would shake his head and look the other way. God, Calum loves his band, loves their dysfunctional dynamic, loves every bit of the coke and the booze and the fighting and the laughing and the tiny moments of peace where Liam’s curled up against him, fast asleep, and Noel’s throwing him an exasperated but fond look from across the room.

( You don’t love it enough to be honest with them, though, a little voice in his mind tells him, but he pushes it into the back of his mind with as much force as he can muster. Not on Christmas. He deserves one day without guilt, however much of a cunt he’s being.)

They ring Mali after dinner before the Queen, because it’s pushing on for time back in Sydney and his dad sagely points out that she’ll be too drunk to hold a proper conversation once it hits midnight. She’s already well on the way there, shouting and laughing merrily down the phone, but it just makes them all laugh, makes Calum’s heart ache a little bit, but not in a way he particularly minds. He misses her, but he knows he’ll see her soon enough.

After an already fairly lengthy catch-up, his mum wants to speak to her about something to do with her rent which neither Calum nor his dad particularly care about, so they head into the living room and start sorting out potential VHSs to watch that evening. They’re in the middle of arguing about whether or not Blackadder is an appropriate Christmas show when Calum’s mum appears in the doorway, holding out the phone in her hand.

“Mali wants to talk to you,” she says, and Calum scrambles to his feet, grabs the handset off her and heads into the kitchen, hoping his mum won’t follow, will let the two of them have a moment of privacy.

“Hello?” Calum says, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check his mum’s not following. Sure enough, she’s tutting at his dad, telling him Blackadder isn’t a Christmas show, David, be serious, please, so Calum turns into the kitchen, doesn’t bother turning the light on, just leans against the counter in the dark.

“How’s my baby brother?” Mali asks cheerfully, and Calum grins, and shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he says. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Heard you on the radio today,” Mali says, and Calum’s stomach flips. They’re playing Oasis in Australia? Fucking hell.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Sounds really fucking good, actually.” Calum grins.

“‘Course it does,” he says. “It’s me, innit?” Mali laughs, bright and tinny in his ear.

“You’re spending too much time with those Gallaghers,” she tells him. “Where’s my shy little brother got to?”

“Gone with all the coke and booze,” Calum says, and Mali snorts.

“Fair enough,” she says. “How’s the rockstar life treating you, then? Number one album, isn’t it?”

“Fastest-selling debut album in British history,” Calum says, and Mali whistles lowly.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Alright, then, I’m impressed,” she says flippantly, and Calum huffs out a laugh. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Y’know, fame, and all that. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. Although I’d rather not hear about the sex, if it’s all the same to you.” Calum snorts.

“Good,” he says, “it’s good. Weird, though, getting asked for autographs, and that. Touring’s strange, too. But it’s good. And I’m glad I’ve got my band with me.”

“Good to know someone’s glad,” Mali says. “I bet the rest of the world aren’t glad to have those two delinquents running wild. Mum and Dad don’t know about the number of hotels you’ve been kicked out of, do they?”

“No,” Calum says warningly, “and they’re not going to find out.”

“No, no, I’ll toe the line, Cal,” Mali says breezily. “For a price.”

“Get fucked,” Calum says, but he’s grinning.

“C’mon, you must be fucking loaded by now,” Mali says, but she’s grinning too, just trying to wind him up. “I mean, you played Glastonbury, right? That was a big fucking lineup. Pretty much anyone who’s relevant was there, if my boss is to be believed. She might just be saying that because she was there, though.” Calum’s face drops.

“Yeah,” he says, and bites his lip. He should tell her about Michael. She knew, back then, knew better than almost anyone, and she should know now, really. “I, uh,” he starts, and then licks his lips, and swallows. Mali just waits, though, knows him well enough to know that it’s going to be something important, and Calum takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I saw Michael.”

“Clifford?”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause.

“I wondered how long it’d take,” Mali says, and she sounds a little mournful. It makes Calum blink, makes him frown as he thinks - more than a little upset - what the fuck? She knew?

“You knew? About him being in Blur?”

“‘Course I knew. I’m in the music business, aren’t I? I’m in Australia, Cal, not on the fucking moon.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mali sighs.

“I was trying to protect you,” she says. Calum grits his teeth.

“Would’ve protected me more if you’d warned me before I ran into him at a fucking awards show,” he says.

“Shit,” Mali mutters, and Calum makes a yeah, fucking right sort of noise. “What happened?”

“Liam and Noel nearly fucking skinned me alive,” Calum says.

“With Michael, I mean.” Calum hesitates.

“Nothing,” he says. “Until Glastonbury.”

“What happened at Glastonbury?” Calum stares down at the floor, digs his thumbnail into the countertop behind him.

“Bumped into him,” he says. “And then he rang me a few days later. And then we- uh. We started calling. And I went to his house last week.” Mali’s silent for a long, long moment, so long that Calum would think that she might have got disconnected if it weren’t for the sound of her breathing, slow and considered in Calum’s ear.

“Oh, Cal,” she says, and the words come out sad and heavy. “Are you- are you…?” She trails off, clearly not sure how to phrase it, but Calum knows what she’s asking. He closes his eyes, brings a hand up to rub over his face, and shrugs, even though she can’t see him.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know. Maybe. Not yet, though. But maybe.” Mali sighs again, sounding more sober than she has for the entire call.

“What do the rest of them think?” she asks. Calum swallows.

“They don’t know,” he admits.

There’s a pause. A long, long fucking pause, and Calum sort of wants to just hang up, sort of wants to laugh and say joking, just kidding, can you fucking imagine, wish I could see the look on your face, but he doesn’t. He clenches his fist, waits it out, and eventually Mali exhales heavily.

“That’s a dangerous fucking game,” she says, and Calum can’t help the humourless laugh that escapes him at that. Doesn’t he fucking know it.

“Yeah,” he says. “I just- I can’t tell them. They don’t understand.”

“Even Noel? He was always the reasonable one, wasn’t he?” Calum snorts, and it’s bitter.

“Not when it comes to the music,” he says. “And-” he cuts himself off, biting his lip. He hasn’t told anyone about him and Noel, not even Mali, because it didn’t matter at the time, and as soon as it started to matter, he had no one to tell. But it’s pertinent now, isn’t it, and it’d probably be a weight off his shoulders, so he takes a deep breath, and says: “And, uh, I fucked him.” There’s another pause.

“You- you fucked Noel?” Mali doesn’t quite sound like she believes him.

“I- well-” okay, she doesn’t need to know that technically Noel fucked him “-I mean, yeah. Years ago, though, like, three years ago. But- y’know.” He winces, cringing at his own words.

“Fucking hell, Cal,” Mali says, sounding a little awed. “You’ve made yourself a right fucking mess, haven’t you?”

“I know, I know,” Calum groans, tipping his head back. “It- it didn’t matter, y’know, it was just a one-time thing, but now with Michael back in the picture…” he trails off, and Mali sighs again.

“Does Michael know?”

“No.”

“Jesus, Cal, are you honest with fucking anyone in your life?”

“I- yeah, I just- look, it’d be presumptuous of me to tell him,” Calum says. “We haven’t- we only just made up last week.” Mali hums, a little disapprovingly.

“Well, I suppose,” she says, but she still doesn’t sound too happy about it. “You’ve got to tell your band, though. I’ve seen bigger bands fall apart for less.” Calum’s stomach flips. He knows that, and he knows full well that they could fall apart for less. But he also knows that he’s too far deep with the lie, now, could maybe have got away with the months of sporadic phone calls but hammered the final nail into his coffin in a chic house in Camden, that if he tells them now it all comes crashing down anyway.

“I can’t,” he says, and he hears the desperation in his own voice. “I can’t, Mali. I’d be-” he doesn’t even want to think about it. A life without Oasis, fine, whatever, he can go back to fixing fences and walls. But a life without Noel? A life without Liam? Calum can’t even stomach the thought of that, let alone the prospect of it being a reality. “I can’t. I can’t lose them.”

“What the fuck is the deal with you and those two?” Mali says, a little exasperated, because she knows he doesn’t mean Bonehead or Tony. “They’re nothing but trouble.”

“They’re my best friends,” Calum says, which is a bit of an understatement. Liam’s more of a part of the fabric that makes up Calum’s soul, but it feels a bit dramatic to say that out loud.

Mali’s quiet for a moment, and then she sighs again, long, heavy, resigned.

“Be careful,” she says gently. Her reluctant seal of approval.

“I’m trying.” Mali hums.

“Give my love to Mum and Dad,” she says. “I’m going to get high as fuck and try to forget that someone in my family has fucked Noel Gallagher.” The ghost of a smile crosses Calum’s lips at that.

“Night,” he says. “Love you.”

“Love you most, Cal.” There’s a click, and then she’s gone, nothing but the sound of Calum’s ragged breathing and his racing heart swelling in the silence of the dark kitchen.

Calum sets the phone down on the counter, then inhales deeply, staring up at the ceiling. Mali’s right. He’s made himself a right fucking mess.

Well, he thinks, a little bitterly. Merry fucking Christmas, eh?

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#malum #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos slash #5sos fanfiction #its 23:59 i'm posting it on monday it counts #also i've been vibing so much w electronic music lately if anyone listens to that i want more recs #i'm big into vaporwave/synthwave/ambient/trip hop/big beat/acid house atm #but i'll try anything #also been very keen on the stone roses...what an album #as in the album. sugar spun sister has my whole heart

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