#ever since the football guys got back and Michael's been around he's been doing the whole ''im too good for u nerds'' thing

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Johnathan Ross Show 2

Part 50

2015

“Welcome back guys” Johnathan welcomes us as we all sit on the sofa with Michael Mcintyre. I sit in between Louis and Liam “now you’ve just finished your fourth world tour, what is it that you miss when your away and when your finished you think right now I have the time to do this”

“I miss my dog cookie a lot and honestly by the end of tour I just want to get home to her”

“Who looks after her while you’re on tour?”

“She lives between my dad and friend Emma”

“What about the rest of you?”

“I miss a fridge. You don’t realise how much you miss it while living in hotel rooms for months” Liam says leaning on his hand

“Erm I like to play football when I’m back at home. We don’t get a lot of free time on tour so yeah I just like to have a kick around” Louis replies to the question

“I think it’s probably sleeping in different beds. It nice to sleep in your own” the audience all laugh, Harry realises what he’s said and get up off the sofa and begins to walk off

“I agreed with ya” Niall says

“I think we all agree but most of us don’t get the chance” Johnathan says to us making everyone laugh “and Niall for you except for that answer”

“I guess home cooking. Like your mums cooking and stuff like that”

“Now YN you’ve been getting a lot of hate recently in the press. Do you ever wish that this didn’t happen, that you never went on the X-Factor?”

“Yes and no. It’s tough because if I didn’t, I could be in a relationship that I hate, and I wouldn’t have met these guys who are my best friends, but then there is a part of me when I get the hate that I just think what was this for?”

“How do you deal with that?”

“Erm I write, a lot, and I have a good team around me and therapy helps too”

“What about the rest of you? There must be times when you think what would it be like if we hadn’t come 3rd”

“Is that supposed to be funny or?” Louis says

“No just you’ve done well for yourselves you know what I mean? It’s like….”

“I don’t think we’d change anything” Harry looks between all of us “we all feel very lucky to have this opportunity. I know YN has struggled with the press, which I think any of us would with what’s been said, but I think if we were to wish we had done more pubs and clubs that we’d be a bit silly really”

“I mean you could do pubs and clubs, just sneak in and do a cover gig just for the hell of it”

“We could” Niall laughs a little

“Now something we need to bring up is that Zayn is missing” Jonathan says, Harry turns around as if he’s looking for him making me laugh “he’s left the band”

“Zayn is missing!” Michael shouts then gets up off his chair “has anyone seen Zayn? I’m Zayn come on” he sits back down

“Oh thank goodness I’m struggling carrying the high notes” I sigh which causes the audience to laugh

“Now it seemed quite abrupt when he left. One minute he was with you the next he was gone. What happened there?”

“You wanna answer this one Michael?” Harry asks and we all turn to look at him looking very serious

“Well yeah you know, Zayn as you all know is one of the boys, talented, he’s exceptional, he’s got it all and err we were on the road and err and to be honest the thing is, I couldn’t find the fridge. I called Liam and he said ‘Mcintyre you know there’s no fridge in hotels that why I can’t wait to get home’ so I called Harry and he could have been in any hotel so I called Zayn he basically said I’ve had enough of this and left”

“Ok no but seriously what happened?”

“I think we just all notice he wasn’t enjoying it anymore and we were and it can be intense and he wanted to be in a different place and that’s fair enough”

“YN let’s move on to you shall we. A year ago the news about you and Liam splitting up broke out, have you been single or is there been anyone else in your life? Because there’s rumours that you and Harry are or were dating then rumours that it was Zayn that’s why he left. Can you confirm or deny?”

“Erm Harry and I have had these rumours since X-Factor so that’s nothing new, but hearing that Zayn cheated on Perrie with me and I cheated on Liam with Zayn and that’s why he left is just ridiculous”

“But even Liam has said things that alluded to cheating”

“Hes clearly not over you” Micheal says trying to cut the tension

“It’s been a year now, I’ve been single and still am. I’ve been in relationships really since I was like 15 so as a young woman I want to learn about myself for now”

“Now you’ve all announced that you’re taking a break from the band, YN you announced an album coming next year. What’s the reception been like?”

“Errrm I thinks it’s very bittersweet, I’ve had a lot of fans message me that they’re excited but also sad that we’re on a break, but who knows what’s going to happen over the next few years” I shrug a little

“Your going to be very busy next year because it’s just been announced that your joining Justin Beiber on the European leg of his Purpose tour. When does that start?”

“20th August next year” the audience cheer as well as the boys

“I thought the point of a break was to relax?” Micheal says making everyone laugh

“Now we’re going to have a little break and then when we come back we’re going to play never have I ever”

“Oh god” Harry mumbles looking nervous.

“Ok we’re back and we’re going to play never have I ever. So i have these paddles. They say, never and I have” Johnathan passes the paddles down to us and he begins the questions

“I have never danced naked in the rain” I hold up never

“I have never been in the mile high club” I say never immediately

“Harry what are you waiting for we know the answer” Johnathan says and Harry throws his paddle behind him shaking his head

“I have never been naked in public” again I hold up never

“That’s choice we all have when we wake up in the morning” Micheal says

“I have never smoked a joint”

“I’m so boring” I laugh holding up never again

Michael then pretends to be Niall telling Johnathan that the paddles aren’t going to reveal anything because we’re media trained. It was actually quite funny.

“Ok taking about media trained, there’s a lot of things that get miss reported so I’ve got some stories here and I wanna see if these were true or not

“Harry was sick on the side of the road and then a fan collected the vomit and then tried to sell it on eBay. Was that true”

“I don’t know if it made it to eBay but it was a thing”

“That’s just weird. Ok next one One D singer reveals STD worries after koala bear incident”

“I think I said it as a joke and it just went to far” Liam says explaining what happened

We finish up the interview with Johnathan then make our way to our hotel room where I end up writing more of my upcoming album.

[pleasereadmeok]

A Goode Year 2022

I’m doing this a bit early coz I won’t be around much over the holidays.  Every year I sit down to write these thinking - hmm - we didn’t see enough of Matthew Goode this year.  [NEVER enough]  But then each year I’m surprised by how busy he is. 

January was all about season 3 of A Discovery of Witches. 

[📷 Sky]

Sadly it was a shorter season due to Covid but we got to see Matthew Goode back in the suit and cashmere for Prof Clairmont once more.  And he held babies.  😁

Stop animation ‘The House’ was released on Netflix - 

[📷 Nexus]

...  and we all watched and wondered what the hell it was all about.  Matthew played this guy called Raymond - 

Coz you just look at Raymond’s felty face and your first thought is ‘Matthew Goode’? Nope.  Anyway this got quite a following from the stop animation fans and won some noms and awards so all goode. 

Also in January we got our very first glimpse of Matthew Goode in ‘The Offer’ when this little teaser dropped - 

[📷 Paramount +]

There he is - BOB!  

More promos appeared later in January including this gem - 

[📷 Miller Mobley]

February gave us more of Matthew Clairmont in his sharp jackets and cuddlesome cashmere. 🤤

We also got the amazing trailer for ‘The Offer’ and all of our hopes were fulfilled when we got our first look at Matthew’s awesome portrayal of Robert Evans. 

The best thing was that other people noticed it too and at last Matthew got some love for his acting skills from the critics.  

In other news - The Wine Show moved to it’s new home on AcornTV AND Matthew surprised us by attending the London Premiere of ‘The Duke’. 

He was obviously excited to be there and we loved seeing him in the flesh again. 

‘The Duke’ was just what Brits returning to the cinema needed - an old fashioned Brit comedy drama.  Matthew shone as ‘star’ barrister Jeremy Hutchinson and he was so convincing that he’d definitely be the one I’d call if I needed representing in court - 

 In March we said a final farewell to ‘A Discovery of Witches’ 😢 but not before we got to see some adorable Matthew outtakes - 

Meanwhile Matthew was clearing out his wardrobe and putting a lot of goodies into the ‘Auction for Ukraine’.  It wasn’t until later that we found out that the idea and most of the organising had been started by Matthew and that he roped in some high profile friends to help. 👏 

April was wall to wall ‘The Offer’ promotion.  We haven’t seen Matthew do so much promotion for a project since 2014 so this was heaven for Goode fans -

 So many funny and engaging interviews to enjoy but I swear if I hear him say ‘timbre’, ‘cadence’, ‘YouTube’ and ‘wormholes’ ever again I might have to scream.  

Better still - Matthew attended the LA premiere for ‘The Offer’ so we got another red carpet interview and even more new pics of him - 

[📷my edit from Extra TV youtube]

When ‘The Offer’ premiered on the 28th April - OMG Matthew was incredible as Robert Evans.  A stunning performance in every way. 

The Bob show continued through May and we got more goode interviews and articles to enjoy.  Just going to highlight this one in the LA Times - https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/tv/story/2022-05-05/the-offer-paramount-cast-matthew-goode-robert-evans   coz of the gorgeous pictures by Dania Maxwell

[📷 Dania Maxwell/LA Times] 

Matthew and Sophie were also invited to the London premiere of ‘Top Gun’ - presumably by Miles Teller?  Anyway - he gave us a little wave on red carpet TV - 

[📷 screenshots from Red Carpet TV and Tristan Fewings]

At last we saw Matthew do another chat show!  In June he was a guest on NBC's ‘Late Night with Seth Meyers’ and joked about getting into American Football and trying to get X [R] rated movies from his local store as a kid ....  

Matthew attended the New York Premiere of ‘The Offer’ the next day - 

[📷Michael Loccisano/Getty Images]

Paramount + launched in the UK later in June and Matthew introduced ‘The Offer’ to the audience - 

[📷 Mike Marsland/Dave J Hogan] 

Matthew’s amazing work on the Auction for Ukraine was finally revealed in a fun guest appearance on The Chris Evans Radio Show.  We also got the first hint about his next project - with an acting hero 🤔  

[📷 Virgin Radio]   

One of the top auction lots was a lunch hosted by Matthew and friends at Hide restaurant - 

[📷 Hide Restaurant]

Before Matthew headed off for his summer holidays in July he found time to guest on ‘This Morning’ with Alison and Dermot.  

He talked about how he nearly missed out on getting the part of Robert Evans due to visa issues 😱 and he confirmed that acting hero he would be working with was indeed Anthony Hopkins!

Matthew headed off to Greece for a family holiday but found time to take a selfie with some fans - 

[📷 Paul and Kerry Hulme - cropped for privacy] 

July also brought us the official trailer for ‘Medieval’ and we got to see Matthew swaggering about in lavish cloaks and that glorious ginger hair - 

Matthew turned up with Hugh Bonneville at a Coldplay gig at Wembley arena in August - 

Medieval was released in September so we saw more of Matthew’s spectacular costumes and THAT hair - 

What happened in October?  Not a lot but in November we did get confirmation that Matthew would be working with Anthony Hopkins on the movie ‘Freud’s Last Session’.  

The movie will be based on the play by Mark St. Germain and Matthew will play C.S. Lewis.  

So I think that brings us up to date.  It’s been a Goode year for showcasing Matthew’s superb acting skills with his perfectly crafted role as Robert Evans in ‘The Offer’ and watching him actually enjoy promoting a show has been a highlight for me.   But if I have to choose the best part of the Goode year - Matthew’s work in getting together the Auction for Ukraine needs a special mention - coz he sure won’t mention it.  He obviously worked really hard on calling in favours and getting things moving and as a result the Auction raised £838,900!  So well done Matthew and all of your friends who helped! 👏

[reignstormz]

| Lion & The Lamb |

INTRO; After hiding your secret crush on the hottest guy in school since freshman year, senior comes around and you finally come face to face with the Samoan, sharing an intimate moment together.

WORD COUNT; 2,300 (maybe, not sure, had some issues, pretty short)

WARNINGS; Takes place in 1984, Bullying, Sweet interactions.

CAST; Y/N ( Yourself) Y/B/F/ N ( Your best friend's name) Roman, Jey, Jimmy, Naomi, and Galina Anoa'i. (Just a story, not saying Galina is anything like her character in this fic)

MINI PLAYLIST; Give Me Your Love - Pebbles/ Two Occasions - The Deele / Ready Or Not - After 7 / Rock With You - Michael Jackson / Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper

🦋

NOVEMBER 9th, 1984

The sounds of teenage laughter filled your ears as you sat in the passengers seat of your best friend's car. You sighed, trying the best you could to block out the noise as you read your book that was sitting in your lap. It was a hectic, busy Friday night. Your school's football team had just won yet another game and everyone was at the Drive In Movie Theatre to celebrate, goof around, or get down to business. Typical things that high school students would be up to. You on the other hand, didn't go to the game and was only here because your best friend practically dragged you out of the house.

You were not so big into the normal teenage, high school experiences. You were very quiet, antisocial, and didn't have many friends. School dances weren't your thing, especially parties. Instead, your way of having fun was just keeping yourself company. You were one of the smartest, if not, the smartest girl in school; You were a straight-A student, and you loved to read. Reading brought you joy and gave you the opportunity to escape to a different reality. Many people labeled you as nerdy, but you could care less.

You were over people picking on you, and judging you, which was one of the biggest reasons why you were so reserved. You got bullied heavily up to 4th grade, and your parents decide to homeschool you until high school came around. They wanted things to turn around for you, but it was the exact same. The only difference was, you made one solid friend and you ate school lunch, something other than food from your refrigerator.

Currently, the theatre was going to show Prince's "Purple Rain" and you were in the car waiting for it to start with your best friend. She also happened to be a cheerleader. You met her in PE class, one joke led after another and you guys became very tight. You were kind of surprised that you two were friends since you were so opposite from each other, and from different crowds.

Y/B/F/N's turned her head to look at you. She sighed, rolling her eyes briefly before she snatched your book out of your grasp. You groaned with irritation, and turned as well to make eye contact with her, "Can you stop? You made me lose my place."

"Can you just have fun for once? Girl. We're at the movies and the first thing you want to do is shove your nose into a book." She shades, throwing your book into the backseat.

"I didn't want to come tonight." You stress to her, "I have studying and homework I need to do-"

"That's all you ever do." She cuts you off. "Come on, you've known how long I've wanted to see this movie. Just do this one thing for me, please?"

"So you want me to sit in a car for an hour?" You questioned. A smile slowly creeped onto her face, which quickly answered your question.

You sighed, unbuckling your seatbelt to get out of the car. She furrowed her eyebrows, "Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm getting snacks." You replied, and before you got out of the car she grabbed onto your wrist.

"Can you get some popcorn? Please?" She asked, with clear as day begging look on her face. You rolled your eyes and got out of the car before she asked for candy as well. Any ounce of candy in her system was a not an option, especially since she had to still take you home tonight. As you walked to the concession stand, you saw just about every single familiar face from school. You were so focused on not making eye contact with anyone that you accidentally bumped into another person in front of you, causing their drink to spill all over your white long sleeved shirt. A couple people who were walking by giggled and the girl you bumped into couldn't of been worse.

"Even those ridiculous glasses you wear still can't help you watch where you're going." Galina dissed, looking you up and down before pushing past your shoulder. Her best friend, Naomi, looked at you apologetically for a second before following behind her. You sighed, looking down at your ruined shirt and turned your head, glaring at her. You saw Galina and Naomi walk back to their car, where the the most popular guys in school happened to be. The twins, Jimmy and Jey Uso, were sitting in the trunk of the car while the guy you've had the biggest crush on for the longest was leaning against it.

Roman Reigns was by far the hottest guy you've ever laid eyes on. He was the captain of the football team, he was smart, and also very kind as well believe it or not. You've only talked to him once, and that was when your chemistry teacher paired you two up for a project not too long ago. Roman was nothing but sweet to you, but since you were extremely shy and quiet, you barely said a word to him the entire time. Not only that, you didn't want any rumors to get out that you liked him. You would get teased nonstop, and Galina, who happened to be his girlfriend, would go out of her way to publicly humiliate you. However, it was nothing new. She was the typical mean girl that everyone was afraid of; You, well you weren't afraid of her really, you just didn't have the energy to deal with her bullshit so you always held your tongue.

"What happened to my fruit punch?" You heard Jey ask Galina. She sighed, wrapping her arm around Roman's waist while he looked down at her.

"Some nerd bumped into me and got it everywhere." She replies, and Roman raised his eyebrow.

"What nerd?" He says. Galina nods towards you. Before you and Roman made eye contact, you quickly turned back around and hurried to the bathroom to try to clean yourself up. This night couldn't get anymore embarassing, you thought.

You stared at yourself in the mirror with a lost expression. There was no way you were going to get this stain out of your shirt. You heavily sighed, adjusting your slightly crooked glasses. As you let a hand fall from your nose to your chin in stress, a strand of your sleeve ended up getting caught on a piece of your braces.

You rolled your eyes, groaning. You hated wearing braces for a million reasons, but this was the main reason why you couldn't wait to get them off soon. They got caught into everything. You tried again and again to get the strand to untangle itself but it wasn't budging. Shit, you thought. Now you had no choice but to go back to the car so your friend could help you. So many things were going wrong tonight and all you wanted to do was just go home at this point.

You took a deep breath before exiting the bathroom. As you turned the corner, you almost ran into someone else for the second time. You sighed, closing your eyes for a second before looking down.

"I'm sorry." You apologized, sounding a little funny since the strand was still stuck on your braces.

"Damn, you need some help with that?" An attractive voice said, that you immediately recognized. Fuck, you cursed in your head. You slowly looked up and saw the tall Samoan tower over you with a concerned look on his face. You nervously started to tap your foot and your heart began to beat very fast.

His facial expression turned into an amused one and he gently took the strand out of your hand to help you get it loose, "I'll take that as a yes."

Within a minute, he got the strand loose from your braces and you were finally able to rest your arm by your side. You shyly pulled your sleeve shirt down, "Thanks.."

He nodded with a faint smile on his face. Little did you know, Roman always had a thing for you as well. He knew you as the quiet girl in class, ever since freshman year. It was now senior year and you haven't changed a bit. You guys were in classes together but never spoke before, or even sat together until one project. He admired the fact that you were different; Girls threw themselves at him all the time, which made you think that you could never stand a chance but you were wrong. He loved the fact that you were extremely smart and had a head on your shoulders. You had a unique type of beauty that he adored; The glasses, braces, the infectious laugh and the shyness. Roman deep down has a weak spot for the nerdy girls, even though no one knows about that at all. People assume all the time of what his type is or who he was as a person, when really no one knew who he truly was. The only people that knew him best were his family, and Galina at one point but as time went on Roman wasn't happy with the person she's become.

Galina was practically Roman's day one, they've known each other since they were kids through a family friend. She was never like this intimidating, rude person that she was now. Galina actually use to be very sweet, but ever since high school came around and she started hanging out with certain crowds, that's when the popularity really went to her head. Even though it made Roman sad at times that she wasn't the same person she used to be, he was not afraid to let her know how he felt about it. She promised him she'd change, but she's so far gone that it's out of control. You can't make people change, they have to do that on their own and if not, it's time to let them go. Roman thought about doing that many times, but he just didn't want to hurt her, especially with the history they had. It was just hard all around, and you made it even more tough for him.

"Whatchu' doin here all alone?" Roman asks curiously, then looked down at your shirt subtly. He saw a huge red stain and his mind went back to Galina saying she spilled her fruit punch on someone. He couldn't really make out your face since you walked away so fast, but now he figured out that you were the person that she might of spilled it on. Shit, he cursed in his head. Roman felt very guilty.

You noticed that he looked down at your shirt, causing you to slightly cover yourself from embarrassment. Chuckling nervously, you say "Oh, um. I accidentally spilled my drink everywhere..so I came here to clean it up."

He knew that you were lying since he was aware of what happened, but he didn't push it. He's noticed a lot of people cover Galina's ass so they don't get on her bad side. Roman nodded, looking down and unzipped his black jacket that was apart of his track suit, "I got sum' for you then."

"No no that's okay," You kindly reject. You look behind him to see if anyone walks in on the two of you and your heart starts to race. Lord knows that no one can see you in his jacket. Especially Galina, if so, everyone would be on your ass. You didn't feel like dealing with that drama.

Once he took the jacket fully off, your eyes went directly to his arms. Damn, his biceps were huge. You were completely glued to them until Roman jokes out of the blue, "You know, if you wanna' feel them you can just ask."

You snapped out of it and you covered your face, trying to hold back a laugh while blushing. You looked back up at him with a smile on your face, "That's hands down the corniest thing you've ever said to me."

"At least it made you laugh." Roman says with a small smile on his face. You admire his gorgeous smile while you had one of your own, gently grabbing the jacket out of his hands. You couldn't help but take it after that. This reminded you of all the times Roman would crack the dumbest jokes in class just to get you to smile, since you were so quiet and rarely talked to him. It went over your head that he only did it to impress you.

"I should probably back to my friend before she freaks out." You say shyly, thanking him for the jacket before getting ready to leave. Roman didn't want you to leave since he was enjoying this moment alone he had with you, so he thought fast and quickly stood in front of you. Real smooth, Roman.

You looked at him weirdly and Roman's face turned red. He was going to say something but he completely forgot his train of thought, making you want to laugh. The look on his face was priceless. The both of you grinned at each other before you fell out laughing.

"Don't look at me like that, girl.." Roman said bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck while you giggled.

"I'm sorry, but you should've seen the look on your face." You pointed towards his face, not being able to contain your laughter, making him laugh even harder. He had the cutest laugh, you could listen to it all day. Once you guys both pulled it together, you both stared at each other in a comfortable silence before he asked, "Do you mind if I can buy you some popcorn or something?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that Roman-"

"Don't worry bout' it, come on." He chuckles, nodding towards the exit. You smiled at him, secretly loving every second of this. Never in a million years you would've thought a crush of yours would go out of his way to do this for you. Roman was such a good guy; You were having such a bad night before and he instantly made it better.

You both walked out of door and to the concession stand. The entire time, you guys stood there goofing off and talking while you waited in line. As you guys were occupied in a conversation, you noticed that you were getting a couple of suspicious looks since you were wearing Roman's jacket. However, no one dared to mess with you or give you slick comments either since they were shocked that you happened to be friends with him. Roman wouldn't hesitate to defend you if they did anyway in a heartbeat, but they knew better. You've seen Roman on multiple occasions stick up for people who got picked on at school, and it made your heart beat even harder for him. If there was a way you could just tell him how you felt, you would, but there was just no way in hell that was possible.

"Thanks, Roman. Even though I really don't need all of these snacks-" You giggled softly, looking down at the bag of snacks he had gotten you. Even though you couldn't never complain about snacks.

"Shh." He joked, cutting you off and took the opportunity to sneak cotton candy in your mouth so you'd stop talking, making you laugh. Roman smirked, taking his thumb and wiped off your bottom lip a little bit.

A frog got caught in your throat again as he flirtatiously wiped your lip. You both gazed into each other's eyes for what it seemed like forever until you both heard the movie start. You cleared your throat, and from behind him you saw Galina, Naomi and the Usos stare at you while they were still at the car. The Usos looked at each other with dumbfounded look on their face, like they wanted to laugh but they knew Galina would kill them. Naomi softly smiled at the two of you, while Galina had the most pissed off look on her face.

"Hey..I'll see you at school?" You say to him, with a soft smile on your face but not too noticeable since you knew Galina was staring at you.

Roman simply nodded, returning the smile and just stared at you in awe quietly. You said your goodbyes before you went back to your friend's car.

"Damn, Y/N. I just said popcorn not the whole concession stand." She says, looking at me weirdly. Then she just blankly stared at you for a minute before her eyes widen, realizing what you had on.

"Bitch, is that Roman's Jacket?" She squealed, and you hushed her real quick before she got excited.

"I'll explain later, okay?"

Your friend alternated looks between you and the movie, giving you the side eye as she took the popcorn out of your lap, "This conversation isn't over."

TAGS; @gold--gucciempress @wwzentertainment @flawlessglamazon @nicolewoo @romanreignshairdresser @sassymox @pennysky @lemonjvicey @thandiwethagirl @haharollins @rollinshield3 @sheerbeautyreigns @zaddyreigns @brookethegamer @alination @vir-tual @reigns-5sos @wickedsunfire

[satansjit]

Reflections on the Color of My Skin

By Neil DeGrasse Tyson

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

My colleague had other encounters with the law that he shared later that night, but his first story started a chain reaction among us. One by one we each recalled multiple incidents of being stopped by the police. None of the accounts were particularly violent or life-threatening, although it was easy to extrapolate to highly publicized cases that were. One of my colleagues had been stopped for driving too slowly. He was admiring the local flora as he drove through a New England town in the autumn. Another had been stopped because he was speeding, but only by five miles per hour. He was questioned and then released without getting a ticket. Still another colleague had been stopped and questioned for jogging down the street late at night.

As for me, I had a dozen different encounters to draw from. There was the time I was stopped late at night at an underpass on an empty road in New Jersey for having changed lanes without signaling. The officer told me to get out of my car and questioned me for ten minutes around back with the headlights of his squad car brightly illuminating my face. Is this your car? Yes. Who is the woman in the passenger seat? My wife. Where are you coming from? My parent’s house. Where are you going? Home. What do you do for a living? I am an astrophysicist at Princeton University. What’s in your trunk? A spare tire, and a lot of other greasy junk. He went on to say that the “real reason” why he stopped me was because my car’s license plates were much newer and shinier than the 17-year-old Ford that I was driving. The officer was just making sure that neither the car nor the plates were stolen.

Among my other stories, I had been stopped by campus police while transporting my home supply of physics textbooks into my newly assigned office in graduate school. They had stopped me at the entrance to the physics building where they asked accusatory questions about what I was doing. It was 11:30 p.m. Open-topped boxes of graduate math and physics textbooks filled the trunk. And I was transporting them into the building, which left me wondering how often that scenario shows up in police training videos.

We went on for two more hours. But before we retired for the night we searched for common denominators among the stories. We had all driven different cars—some were old, others were new, some were undistinguished, others were high performance imports. Some police stops were in the daytime, others were at night. Taken one-by-one, each encounter with the law could be explained as an isolated incident where, in modern times, we all must forfeit some freedoms to ensure a safer society for us all. Taken collectively, however, you would think the cops had a vendetta against physicists because that was the only profile we all had in common. In this parade of automotive stop-and-frisks, one thing was for sure, the stories were not singular, novel moments playfully recounted. They were common, recurring episodes. How could this assembly of highly educated scientists, each in possession of the PhD—the highest academic degree in the land—be so vulnerable to police inquiry in their lives? Maybe the police cued on something else. Maybe it was the color of our skin. The conference I had been attending was the 23rd meeting of the National Society of Black Physicists. We were guilty not of DWI (Driving While Intoxicated), but of other violations none of us knew were on the books: DWB (Driving While Black), WWB (Walking While Black), and of course, JBB (Just Being Black).

None of us were beaten senseless. None of us were shot. But what does it take for a police encounter to turn lethal? On average, police in America kill more than 100 unarmed black people per year. Who never made it to our circle? I suspect our multi-hour conversation would be rare among most groups of law-abiding people.

As I compose this, about 10,000 chanting protestors are filing past my window in Manhattan. And because of the intermittent looting and related violence, the curfew for this evening has been pushed earlier, to 8 p.m., from 11 p.m. in the preceding days. The most common placard was “Black Lives Matter.” Many others simply displayed the name George Floyd, who was handcuffed face-down on the street with a police officer’s knee on the back of his neck, applied with a force of at least half the officer’s body weight, resulting in his death. Curious irony that NFL star Colin Kaepernick offered a simple demonstration of care and concern for the fate of black people in the custody of police officers, by taking a knee during the Star Spangled Banner before football games. (One media outlet mangled the moment by describing him as protesting the national anthem.) The outrage against his silent act of concern for a national problem persisted through the 2017 season when, as a free agent, he went unsigned by any team to continue his livelihood.

So, we went from a peaceful knee to the ground to a fatal knee to the neck.

The way peaceful protesters and the press are being shoved, maced, tear-gassed, pepper-sprayed, and tackled in the streets of our cities (when the police should have focused on arresting the looters) you would think the protestors were doing something illegal or un-American. But, of course, the U.S. Constitution has something to say about it:

Congress shall make no law … abridging the freedom … of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Which amendment was that? The First Amendment. So, the founders of this nation felt quite strongly about it, empowering one to declare that protesting for redress of grievances is one of the most American things you can do. If you are the police, pause and reflect how great is the country whose Constitution endorses peaceful protests.

What do we actually expect from our police officers? To protect the peace and arrest the bad guys, I presume. But also, to be armed with lethal force that they can use when necessary. That part clearly requires training on how and when to use (and not use) the power of your weapons. The rigorous Minneapolis Police Academy training lasts 4 months. The slightly more rigorous NYC Police Academy lasts 6 months.

Yet to become a certified pastry chef at a prestigious culinary academy requires 8 months. The perfect croissant demands it. So maybe, just maybe, police recruits could benefit from a bit more training before becoming officers.

In 1991, Rodney King (age 25) was struck dozens of times, while on the ground, by four LAPD officers, with their batons, after being tased. The grainy 1990s video of that went media-viral, inducing shock and dismay to any viewer.

But I wasn’t shocked at all.

Based on what I already knew of the world, my first thought was, “We finally got one of those on tape.” Followed by, “Maybe justice will be served this time.” Yes, that’s precisely my first thought. Why? Since childhood my parents instilled in me and my siblings, via monthly, sometimes weekly lessons, rules of conduct to avoid getting shot by the police. “Make sure that when you get stopped, the officer can always see both of your hands.” “No sudden movements.” “Don’t reach into your pockets for anything without announcing this in advance.” “When you move at all, tell the officer what you are about to do.” At the time, I am a budding scientist in middle school, just trying to learn all I can about the universe. I hardly ever think about the color of my skin—it never comes up when contemplating the universe. Yet when I exit my front door, I’m a crime suspect. Add to this the recently coined “White Caller Crime,” where scared white people call the police because they think an innocent black person is doing something non-innocent, and it’s a marvel that any of us achieve at all.

The rate of abuse? Between one and five skin-color-instigated incidents per week, for every week of my life. White people must have known explicitly if not implicitly of this struggle. Why else would the infamous phrase, “I’m free, white, and 21” even exist? Here is a compilation of that line used in films across the decades. Yes, it’s offensive. But in America, it’s also truthful. Today’s often-denied “white privilege” accusation was, back then, openly declared.

The deadly LA riots associated with the Rodney King incident are often remembered as a response to the beating. But no. Los Angeles was quiet for 13 months afterward. Everyone had confidence, as did I, that the video was just the kind of evidence needed to finally bring about a conviction in the abuse of power. But that’s not what came to pass. The riots were a response to the acquittal of the four officers in the incident, and not to the incident itself. And what is a riot if not the last act of helpless desperation.

The 1989 film by Spike Lee “Do the Right Thing,” which explored 1980s black-white-police tensions in Brooklyn, New York, ends with a dedication to the families of six people. Eleanor Bumpers (age 66), Michael Griffith (age 23), Arthur Miller (age 30), Edmund Perry (age 17), Yvonne Smallwood (age 28), and Michael Stewart (age 25). All are black. One was killed by a white mob. The rest were unarmed and shot by police or otherwise died while in police custody. All deaths occurred within the 10 years preceding film, and all occurred in New York City. None of the police-induced deaths resulted in convictions, as continues to be true for 99% of all police killings.

We know of these events because they each ended in death. But even so, back then, it was just local news. Was this just NYC’s problem? I asked myself. But for every police-related death anywhere, how many unarmed victims are shot by police and don’t die, or are wrongfully maimed or injured? Most of those cases didn’t even make the local news. But if you lived there, you knew. We all knew. For what it’s worth, NYC now has the lowest police-caused death rate per capita among the sixty largest cities in the US. Is it that extra two months training in the Police Academy?

The corrosion and ultimate erosion of our confidence in the legal system in cases such as these, even in the face of video evidence, has spawned a tsunami of protests. With sympathetic demonstrations across the United States and around the world. If the threat of prison time for this behavior does not exist—acting as a possible deterrent—then the behavior must somehow stop on its own.

Some studies show that the risk of death for an unarmed person at the hands of the police is approximately the same no matter the demographics of who gets arrested. Okay. But if your demographic gets stopped ten times more than others, then your demographic will die at ten times the rate. I suppose we first have to get the bias factor down to zero, but then there’s still the matter of police killing unarmed suspects, white people included.

I talk a lot. But I don’t talk much about any of this, or the events along this path-of-most-resistance that have shaped me. Why? Because throughout my life I’ve used these occasions as launch-points to succeed even more. Yes, I parlayed the persistent rejections of society, which today might be called micro-aggressions, into reservoirs of energy to achieve. I learned that from my father, himself active in the Civil Rights Movement during the 1950s and 1960s.

In a way, I am who I am precisely because countless people, by their actions or inactions, said I could never be what I am. But what if you don’t have this deep supply of fuel? What becomes of you? Who from historically disenfranchised communities, including women, LGBTQ+, and anybody of color, are missing—falling shy of their full potential because they ran out of energy and gave up trying.

Are things better today than yesterday? Yes. But one measure of this truth is a bit perverse. Decades ago, unarmed black people getting beaten or killed by the police barely merited the local news. But now it’s national news—even breaking news—no matter where in the country it occurs.

So how to change all this? Organizations have surely assembled demands for police departments. Here, I offer a list of my own, for policy experts to consider:

Extend police academies to include months of cultural awareness and sensitivity training that also includes how not to use lethal force.

Police officers should all be tested for any implicit bias they carry, with established thresholds of acceptance and rejection from the police academy. We all carry bias. But most of us do not hold the breathing lives of others in our hands when influenced by it.

During protests, protect property and lives. If you attack nonviolent protesters you are being un-American. And you wouldn’t need curfews if police arrested looters and not protesters.

If fellow officers are behaving in a way that is clearly unethical or excessively violent, and you witness this, please stop them. Someone will get that on video, and it will give the rest of us confidence that you can police yourselves. In these cases, our trust in you matters more to a civil society than how much you stick up for each other.

And here’s a radical idea for the Minneapolis Police Department—why not give George Floyd the kind of full-dress funeral you give each other for dying in the line of duty? And vow that such a death will never happen again.

Lastly, when you see black kids, think of what they can be rather than what you think they are.

Respectfully Submitted

Neil deGrasse Tyson — trying hard to Keep Looking Up.

Copyright © 2018 Neil deGrasse Tyson

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Coming Up Easy - First Sightings

I am *SO* sorry this is so hella late this week. It's been... a fucking week. CW: One mention of a homophobic slur.

You can also read this on AO3!

CUE - First Sightings

Unpacking boxes was not one of Alex’s favorite activities. He hadn’t had many when he’d moved because he hadn’t wanted to rent a truck or deal with shipping things, so the twelve boxes he’d been able to load into the late nineties Ford Explorer encompassed all his worldly possessions. He’d finally gotten a chance to start unpacking the miscellaneous boxes after a trip to Ikea for bookshelves, a bed, and a couch. Furthermore, he’d promised himself he’d explore his new city more and find second-hand shops for other household furniture and accessories, but the bookshelves would be enough to finally clear away the last of his unpacked boxes.

Alex opened the last box and looked inside. His heart softened a little as he saw the small shoebox of photographs he kept. Promising himself he’d look through it later, he unpacked the few other knick-knacks out of the box and took them to the bookshelves to start placing them. The box didn’t reenter his mind until after dinner when he found himself lounging across his new sofa with a cold beer in his hand. The box stared at him from the floor where he’d left it. Setting down his beer on the floor, he quickly got up and grabbed the box, and brought it back over to the couch. He flipped open the top and gingerly picked up the pile closest to him.

Michael and him in the desert with guitars. Liz, Max, Michael, and him at a church car wash. Michael, Kyle, and him all leaning against a bathroom wall in various stages of being phenomenally sick from drinking too much. Him and Michael hanging out at the UFO Emporium. Him and Michael eating pizza and playing video games at Max and Isobel’s. Him and Michael in college at a frat party. Him and Michael. Him and Michael. Him and Michael…

It hit Alex quite suddenly that basically since he and Michael had become friends they’d been fairly inseparable. They’d dated other people and had friends that the other didn’t like, but as a rule, it was always the two of them against the world and it had been since they were fifteen. He picked up his phone and snapped a photo of the photograph he held in his hand where they were sixteen, pimply, awkward, and bent over laughing outside the high school band room.

Me 8:46 p.m.>> Who the fuck are these dorks? <<Picture sent at 8:46 p.m.>> <<Michael 8:50 p.m.>> Holy shit, look at those nerds!! <<Michael 8:51 p.m.>> Though I gotta say, the emo one is pretty hot. If I were sixteen, I’d definitely have a crush on him. Me 8:52 p.m.>> You did not have a crush on me at 16! I was so tragic! <<Michael 8:53 p.m.>> You were not. You were fucking feral. You took exactly zero percent shit from anyone. It was hot as fuck. Me 8:55 p.m.>> You are definitely misremembering the amount of bullshit I put up with. <<Michael 9:00 p.m.>> Do you know what you were doing the first time I saw you?

Alex cast back in his memory. He remembered the first time he was aware of Michael, but not necessarily the first time Michael was aware of him. He always assumed it was at the same time.

Me 9:02 p.m.>> Uh? Scribbling emo song lyrics on my bio lab notebook? <<Michael 9:03 p.m.>> Nope. <<Michael 9:03 p.m.>> You were having a fight with Kyle during gym because he tagged your gym shirt with the word “faggot” in pink sharpie.

“Mr. Manes, you cannot wear shirts with inappropriate text on them. This is the gym. White shirts only,” Coach Heim called at Alex as soon as he walked out of the locker room and started towards where the rest of the class was lounging in the middle of the basketball court. Alex could see Kyle elbowing his football buddies and smirking, barely containing their laughter. Alex felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and fury. He kept walking towards the group.

“MR. MANES! GO CHANGE YOUR SHIRT!” the coach yelled, putting more authority into his deep baritone. He was a fit, balding adult who generally was an alright guy, but Alex was swelling with indignation. He stopped a few feet away from the group so he didn’t have to yell to be heard.

“I don’t have another shirt, sir. This is my gym shirt,” Alex explained through clenched teeth. As the rest of the class got a good look at the words emblazoned across his chest and stomach, he heard them begin to snicker and giggle quietly.

“Well, you can’t wear that one. You’re smarter than this, Alex, why would you wear this out of the locker room?” the coach asked, not sounding unkind. He shot the gathered students a dirty look and they quieted their laughter.

“Because it’s all I had to wear and it’s not my fault it was defaced. Some pink-fingered fucking COWARD of a football player must’ve thought it’d be REAL FUNNY to break into my locker and--” Alex started, voice growing louder as he let the heat behind his cheeks infuse his voice.

“I did no such thing!” Kyle yelled, cutting in on Alex. Coach Heim looked over at him, eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to tell Kyle to sit down, but as soon as Kyle stepped forward away from his buddies, Alex pounced. He landed the first hit on Kyle’s cheek, the meaty smack of their skin satisfying to him. Kyle shook it off and came at him. Before he knew it, they were rolling on the ground hitting each other as hard as they could in anyplace visible. The pain was nothing new for Alex and he kept his head clear as he tried to aim for spots that would hurt long after he was pulled off.

Too soon, arms were wrapped around his chest and a much bigger body than his was pulling him back and off of where he’d pinned Valenti to the ground. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, his ears still ringing with rage, but he could see the thin trickle of blood from Kyle’s split lip and he felt himself smile at the shock on everyone else’s face as they watched him get dragged back. He would not take Kyle’s shit this year. He would not take anyone’s shit.

Alex rubbed his fingers across his eyebrows and sighed deeply. He had been so ready to cause someone else pain by then. His dad had only gotten worse towards him when Kyle started to pull away because it meant that his “unnaturalness” was evident to everyone. His fight then and the fights in the following year always had more to do with his dad than with him being ashamed of being gay. He put the photos down in the box and went to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. His phone chimed as he unscrewed the top and after a deep drink, he checked the message.

<<Michael 9:13 p.m.>> Uh oh, you’ve left me on read. You okay? Me 9:14 p.m.>> I’m fine. Sorry. Just got wrapped up in my head for a minute. Me 9:15 p.m.>> How did you see that? You weren’t in my gym class? <<Michael 9:16 p.m.>> I was hiding under the bleachers skipping english. Me 9:17 p.m.>> THAT WAS THE FIRST DAY! <<Michael 9:17 p.m.>> Right? Nothing to do anyway. It was fine. It’s in the past. I graduated high school, didn’t I? No harm, no foul.

Alex laughed quietly to himself, staring at the message screen. He went back to the couch and flopped back down across the cushions with a sigh.

Me 9:20 p.m.>> You did. Even graduated college. I guess you’re right. <<Michael 9:21 p.m.>> When do you remember seeing me for the first time? Me 9: 23 p.m.>> I feel like it was biology when we were lab partners. I was supposed to be with Max, remember? <<Michael 9:24 p.m.>> Yeah, I was with Liz. Max had no chill back then. How the fuck did it take Liz until senior year to notice that he liked her? Me 9:35 p.m.>> Had no chill? *Has* no chill.

“Michael! MI-CHAEL!” Max hissed loudly from his seat next to Alex two rows behind where Liz was sitting. The class period was just getting started and everyone was still milling around trying to find their assigned seats. Michael looked over his shoulder at Max who was looking desperately at him. Michael mouthed ‘what?!’ and gave Max an irritated glare.

“Switch with me!” Max whisper screamed. Alex was smirking into his notebook as he watched the exchange through the side of his eye. He hadn’t really noticed the curly-haired boy before, but the eye roll he gave Max was epic. He started to turn back to the front when Max whispered again. “I’ll pay you!”

Michael turned back around abruptly and narrowed his eyes.

“How much?” Michael asked, not whispering but keeping his voice low enough not to carry to the teacher who was about to start taking roll. Max looked desperately towards the front of the class at Liz’s back where she was ignoring what was happening beside her in favor of actually paying attention. She was about the only one.

“Fifty,” Max called out.

“Seventy-five and you buy my lunch for a week,” Michael countered. Alex was highly amused. Max darted his eyes over to Liz’s back again and nodded. Michael grabbed his stuff and moved quickly towards the back of the classroom while Max grabbed his stuff to go forward.

“Sorry!” Max called out to Alex softly before he left. Alex watched him slide into the seat next to Liz smoothly and take out his notebook. She looked over and smiled at him in confusion, turning to look back at where Michael was now taking his seat next to Alex. Alex looked over at him and was struck full in the face with his mischievous grin.

“That sucker, I would’ve done it for twenty-five,” Michael shared with Alex conspiratorially, leaning closer to him while he spoke so his voice wouldn’t reach Max’s ears. Alex felt himself blushing a little at the somewhat flirtatious smirk Michael was giving him. He’d been aware of Michael, but hadn’t really ever paid him any mind. Now he was near him, he could see the interesting light brown of his eyes somewhere between gold and green. He also smelled a little like lake water and the woodsy, spicy deodorant Alex had smelled on Mr. Valenti. It was weirdly comforting.

“So he has a thing for Liz or is he that afraid of failing bio that badly? I’m not stupid,” Alex asked, clearing his throat and trying not to seem offended by Max’s desperation to switch partners.

“Oh, he has a major thing for Liz. It’s gross. Like, she’s pretty, don’t get me wrong. But he’s been writing Mr. and Mrs. Ortecho-Evans in his notebook since third grade or some shit like that,” Michael revealed, taking out his own bio notebook from his bag and setting in on the lab table in front of him. Alex took in what he was saying and nodded.

“So it’s not cause everyone says I’m gay?” Alex asked, voice low and a little nervous to see Michael’s reaction. Michael looked over at him, eyebrows drawn together and something like sympathy passing over his expression before he responded.

“No, man. Max doesn’t give a shit about that and neither do I. You weren’t planning on trying to date him, were you?” Michael asked, shooting him a grin. Alex grinned back, relieved to hear that someone in the school who was so upstanding and obviously straight like Max wasn’t a complete jerk. Michael didn’t seem too bad either.

“Nah. He’s not my type. I like musicians,” Alex joked, shooting Michael a side-grin.

“You don’t say? Do you play?” Michael asked, eyes forward now in a semblance of paying attention to the teacher. Alex glanced up towards the board, but continued slouching over his lyrics notebook.

“Guitar,” he replied shortly as the teacher started explaining their first lab assignment.

“Cool. Me too,” Michael said. Alex could see him studying him out of the corner of his eye. “We should jam sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

And they did jam together eventually. A week later they’d gotten together and Alex had learned that Michael did not know one end of a guitar from the other. He’d let Michael borrow his brother Greg’s guitar and then taught him everything he knew over the course of the next three months.

Me 9:40 p.m.>> Man. Who knew we’d still be friends this long after. <<Michael 9:45 p.m.>> I did. Once you taught me to play guitar, you were stuck with me for life. There’s an unbreakable bond built when one dude teaches another dude how to finger... Me 9:46 p.m.>> Jesus Christ. That was terrible. <<Michael 9:47 p.m.>> Bet you’re laughing though. Me 9:48 p.m.>> I plead the fifth. Also, I gotta get to bed. Early day tomorrow. <<Michael 9:50 p.m.>> That’s some responsible adult behavior right there. Gross. Me 9:51 p.m.>> You’re gross. <<Michael 9:52 p.m.>> I am gross. I’m going to take a shower and change that, however. When will you be young and fun again? Me 9:53 p.m. >> Shut up. Go take your shower. <<Michael 9:53 p.m.>> Fine. Go to bed. Think about me in bed. Me 9:54 p.m.>> *You* think about me in bed. <<Michael 9:55 p.m.>> Always do. Night Me 9:56 p.m.>> Night.

Alex heaved himself off the couch and went to his room. The apartment always seemed so dark and lonely when he finished talking with Michael. He needed to work on making friends. That would help him not miss him so much.

[yikesharringrove]

I think slutty Steve wouldn't know how to process it the first time he really feel jealous. Like maybe Billy won't stop talking about someone and it's nothing on Billy's part, just a person he has stuff in common with, and maybe they're hot. And it bothers Steve but he can't figure it out because he can have threesomes and watch Billy with other people, and he's always talking about other people but this bothers him.

I’m combining this with another slutty steve request

anonymous asked: slutty steve au! what about billy and steve getting into some argument. they aren’t together,  they just fuck around a lot, but they both obviously have feelings. so, steve goes to get some guy and lets them fuck him in a place he knows billy will see them because he wants to make billy jealous and that’s totally what ends up happening. billy gets all possessive and goes to steve’s house the next day and they have hate sex, but one that ends up with them confessing their feelings and being soft

-

Steve was not pouting.

“Why you poutin’?”

He was not.

“I’m not.” Billy fake pouted at him.

“What’s wrong?” Steve squirmed. “You pissed at me for ditchin’ you on Friday night?”

Maybe that was the issue.

Billy had a date on Friday, the night they usually spent watching movies and fucking around.

Steve mulled it over.

He never minded watching Billy with other guys. He never minded when Billy watched him with other guys.

They had had more than a few threesomes, even a few group romps, and the idea of Billy with someone else in those situations was fine.

But this made him mad, made him uncomfortable.

But Billy was fucking with everything.

Yeah, he was just frustrated that Billy ditched him on their night.

Ditched him for Michael Brown.

Steve was way hotter than Michael Brown. Better at sex too.

Steve would know.

“I’ll make it up to you, Stevie. We can do movie night on Saturday.” Steve shrugged.

It should feel the same, but it didn’t.

Moving it to Saturday wasn’t their day. Billy was casting him aside for someone else and it made Steve feel fucking sick.

His chest felt way too tight, and his stomach was churning.

“Sure. We can do Saturday.” Billy smiled softly at him. Steve wanted to curl up and sleep forever.

-

“So, then we head out to the quarry, you know, and we’re making out-” Steve was staring straight ahead, grinding his jaw. “-but I cut it off. I kinda wanna take things slower, you know? Like sometimes I just rush into fucking.” Steve scrunched his nose. “I could kinda see this actually going somewhere, and I want to preserve it.”

“Right, because sex ruins everything.” Billy furrowed his brows.

“Stevie, that’s not what I meant.”

“No, get it. It’s fine, Billy. I’m just a tramp with absolutely no value as a human person.” Steve got up, tossing the pillow he was holding back onto the couch.

“Steve, what the fuck? That’s absolutely not what I meant! Since when did this become about you?”

“Since you said you want to preserve it by not having sex with him. What’s so wrong about having sex?” Billy’s eyes were wide.

“There’s nothing wrong if that’s all you’re looking for, but I want a relationship, like a fucking emotional relationship, and sometimes sex gets in the way of that.”

“So I’m just a fucking sociopath, then.”

“Steve, you’re acting fucking insane.” Steve snapped his mouth shut. He turned to go stomping up the stairs. “Wait, hold on.”

Billy shoved himself into Steve’s bedroom before he could shut the door.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that.”

“No, Hargrove. It’s fine.” Steve had already pulled up his contacts, scrolling through the football team. He wanted a fat joint and and a fat cock.

“Look, I really wasn’t trying to say anything about you, or the way you live your life,just with me, I want to take this one slow.”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry for saying what I did.”

“Thanks.” Steve had picked Jason Taylors, had already fired him off a text that read monday, after your practice, locker room?

He got a quick response, a series of emoticons.

Jason Taylors (7 inches, daddy kink): 😈🍆🍑💦

Steve rolled his eyes.

Billy was staring at him.

“What?”

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” Billy huffed.

-

Steve was being held up against the lockers, his back banging into the could metal as Jason fucked into him.

“That feel good?” His breath was hot against Steve’s neck. It made him grimace a bit.

“Feels so good, Daddy.” He made his voice all high and breathy, knew how to play the game, even if he wasn’t totally into it.

But he wanted to not think for a moment, be reduced to a drooling little cockslut.

The door to the locker room gave and Billy came in, red faced and panting.

He had been running on the track, after his baseball practice. He had told Steve is dad made him go out for the team.

Steve looked right at him.

“Oh yeah, Daddy. Right there.” Steve tossed his head back, moaning real loud. “You have the best cock ever, Daddy. So big, makes me feel so good.” He glared at Billy.

Billy glared right back.

“Can I cum, Daddy?”

“Go ahead, Stevie.” Steve arched against the lockers, tightening up around Jason.

The good thing about having as many orgasms Steve has on a daily basis, is that sometimes he cums dry.

It makes faking an orgasm way easier.

By the time he opened his eyes, Jason’s own cum dripping out of him, Billy was long gone.

-

Steve was moping on the couch by himself when Billy let himself in.

“Steve, we gotta talk.” his mouth was tight, his brows drawn. Steve waved a flippant hand at him.

“Go ahead.” Billy rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“That was fucked up yesterday.” Steve sat up quickly.

“What the fuck?”

“I know you. I can tell that was fucking fake. You were just using him.”

“So what? Sometimes people use people. You and I have used one another, everyone in the fucking school has used me. I wanted some dick, so I got some.”

“No, you wanted to get back at me. You know I run after practice, you knew when I would be in there. You picked him specifically because of that fight he and I got into a few months ago.”

Steve had forgotten about that fight.

No, he hadn’t. He knew exactly why he had picked Jason.

“I apologized for all the shit I said, but doing that, throwing my fucking feelings in my face like that, that’s manipulative, and fucked up.” Steve scrambled to stand up.

“Wait, hold your goddamn horses. What feelings?”

Billy balled his fists, seemed to be fucking vibrating.

He launched himself forward, tackling Steve onto the couch.

He kissed him rough, kissed him dirty.

Steve moaned into his mouth, grinding his hips against Billy’s.

And then it fucking hit him.

He was jealous.

He was jealous of fucking Michael Brown going on a date with Billy.

He stilled, Billy pawing at his clothes, shoving his jeans down his legs.

He had fucking feelings for Billy. Like, romantic, emotional feelings.

It hit him like a fucking ton of bricks.

He had never felt this way about anyone before, like he couldn’t breathe without Billy, like he would die if Billy felt the same way about someone else, loved someone else.

“Stevie? You okay?” Steve was limp, staring off into space.

He looked at Billy, studying his face.

“I’m in love with you.” Billy choked.

“I, what?”

“I think I’m in love with you. But honestly I don’t even know. I’ve just never felt this way. I was fucking jealous thinking of you with someone else, but I don’t, I didn’t realize it.” Billy was staring at him. “I’ve never wanted to be with someone like that. In a romantic way.”

“Fuck, Baby. I thought, I thought you knew that I had feelings for you and you just, just ignored them.”

“No, I, uh, I just I don’t even know.” Steve’s mind was racing. Everything made sense. “Sorry, I’m just, thinkin’.”

“You wanna not think?” Steve grinned back at him.

“Of course.”

[siriuslyshewrote]

Adore You - F.S

Some cringe fluff for our boy Finn Shelby.

Request - ““Shut up, or they’ll hear you.” You ans Finn are secretly dating but Michael knows. In the garrison you're talking quietly about your love and plans for later in the night and Michael elbows Finn to be quieter since his brothers are only across the table. Thank you x”

Walk in your rainbow paradise

The Garrison was, as usual, crowded as hell - several groups crowded around a table that was only meant for a couple, the temperature so warm it felt like the middle of summer, and poor Harry the bartender looking so rushed off his feet you would have gone to help him, if you were not currently squashed into a booth in the little side room next to the bar, with a family you knew so well they felt like kin - the Shelby’s. Michael was on one side, quietly observing the happenings, a whiskey in hand, with Finn next to you, his hand on your thigh under the table, which for him, was quite daring, considering he was across the table from the rest of his family, who knew nothing about the two of you.

Finn Shelby. Your partner in crime, best friend, and family, ever since your family had moved next door to his during the war, when you were five, your mother no longer able to afford the bills of the country house you had previously lived in with your father and older brothers dead and gone.

You had been the kid with the funny accent that everyone teased at school, and the one who played outside alone, until Finn had kicked a football in your face (accidentally, he said, though you weren’t sure). After several minutes of your furious yells at him, and his red faced apology, you, surprisingly became friends. You’d spent the rest of the school term close friends, and the whole time since then - twelve years now, with you both nearing your eighteenth birthdays.

When being at home got difficult, as it did a lot, it wasn’t rare that you would end up tucked up on the sofa in the Shelby home, and Finn was usually right there beside you, having snuck down in his striped pajamas that matched yours (they had been a present off Polly for Christmas). The Shelby’s would let you stay as long as you wanted, Polly telling you with a laugh it was easier with you around - she didn’t have to worry about Finn getting into as much mischief anymore. You grew to love them all a great deal, and soon, you were as much a part of the family as Finn was.

Strawberry lipstick state of mind.

You were both fifteen when the line between platonic and romantic began to blur. Holding hands didn’t feel the same as it once did - there was suddenly meaning behind it, your heart started to beat a little faster when you interlocked fingers, your cheeks heating up. Kissing cheeks turned to kissing lips, friendship turned to something more, though you didn’t address it, not back then.

It took until your sixteenth birthday for Finn to officially ask you out, after months of this muddled friendship, and it was then that you realised that you really did love your best friend.

I get so lost inside your eyes

“What’re you thinking about?” Finn’s head was tilted towards yours, his words quiet, his eyes sparkling and just a little intoxicated. He was bored, not wanting to be stuck in this tiny room on a hot summers day.

“Just the past.” You replied with a soft smile, sipping the drink you had been given a while ago - the ice had melted now, creating a weird watery liquid, but you drank it anyway.

Would you believe it?

“The future’s better.” He grinned, knowingly.

“And what makes you think that, Shelby?” You smirked.

“Cause we’re gonna be living in our little country house like you lived in when you were younger-“

“With our chickens.” You inputted. This plan was well versed at this point - you had both been talking about it for years, and you had no doubt Finn would somehow make the dream come true.

“With our chickens.” He agreed. “And a goat.”

“And our kids.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“I cannot handle three kids.”

“Four, including you.” You laughed.

“You’re literally the youngest.”

“Look at this face, Finn. I’m the epitome of maturity.” You joked.

“Yeah, I can see the wrinkles setting in already.” He pointed towards your forehead, as you swatted him with your hand.

“Pillock.” You said affectionally.

You don't have to say you love me

“You guys do realise you are right across the table from everyone else?” Michael whispered with a grin, jolting you and Finn back from your little bubble.

No one was looking at you, though you swore Polly shot you a knowing smile.

The thing about you and Finn was that you hadn’t told anyone yet. He wanted it separate from the business and his “nosy family” (his own words). You agreed with him on that quickly - not wanting to think about the amount of teasing you would both get at the hand of his siblings. Besides, you were both young, and you didn’t really know what you wanted yet, and you didn’t want the pressure of everyone pushing you about marriage, especially not yet.

Finn had a small look of realisation, as if remembering where he was, before nodding. He elbowed you a tiny bit - your cue for when you were both bored.

You let out a large yawn.

“I think I’m going to head home. I’m shattered.” You spoke, getting up, squeezing past Finn, saying goodbye to the rest of the family with a smile.

“I’ll walk you.” Finn said with a grin, following you quickly out of the door.

You don't have to say nothing

“So.” Polly said dryly. “When do we reckon’ they’re going to tell us?”

Just let me adore you

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

I Need You

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Summary: The relationship through the years

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing, just a lot of fluff, mentions of anxiety

A/N: This is probably the longest fic I’ve ever written I got a bit carried away so I apologise - sorry if any of the times/ages are wrong! Just go with it! I’m kinda exhausted writing this so I was trying to do the kinda basic maths in my head and it just gave me a headache but please excuse any issues with age that there may be! Also I’m actually really happy with this one and it made me hella soft writing it so I hope you enjoy! Please remember to like, comment, reblog, send asks and just let me know what you thought of it!

~~ 2008, Age 12 ~~

Y/N’s face was scrunched up with nerves as she waited for the bus to arrive. The previous two days her mother had driven her to school, Y/N too nervous to get the bus in. But then the boy who lived down the street had asked her during school why she didn’t get the bus to school like he did.

Y/N had shyly admitted to the boy - Michael, that was his name - that she was nervous about it.

“You came!” Michael’s grin was wide when he arrived at the bus stop. Y/N’s lips up into a nervous smile and she nodded mutely. “Here!” He thrust a bottle at her. “My mum gave me two orange juices and told me to give the other to Cal but you can have it instead,” Michael gave her an innocent smile and Y/N took the bottle.

“Thank you,” she said nervously but she clammed up again the moment the bus pulled into the stop. 

Michael bounded onto the bus before her, leaving Y/N behind.

“You coming, love?” The bus driver asked, a kind smile on her face. Y/N looked around her, noticing that she was the only child who had yet to get on the bus at her stop and gave an embarrassed, awkward nod of her head.

Her steps were shaky when she stepped onto the bus. She flinched as the door shut behind her. 

It was the typical kind of school bus, the exact same formation as it had been like at her old school at her old home town - the youngest pupils at the front and the eldest at the back.

Y/N was just going into year 7, as was Michael, so she knew that she ought to sit at the front but she didn’t know where.

It was the start of spring term, Y/N having moved house late in the year meaning that she didn’t know anyone other than Michael.

There were some empty seats next to other year 7s but Y/N wasn’t sure whether they’d allow her to sit next to them or not.

“Y/N! Come sit here!” She was relieved to hear Michael’s voice calling to her from one of the three seaters, where he was sat in the middle seat with a friend next to him at the window, an empty seat on the aisle. 

Y/N practically fell into the seat next to Michael, giving him a thankful, exhausted smile.

“This is Calum! We’ve known each other since primary school!” Michael introduced.

“Mike said he gave you my orange juice,” Calum said, looking to Y/N with a hurt expression and her eyes widened, her jaw slackening and she was quick to hold out the juice to him, not wanting to make any enemies in her first week. Calum looked at the bottle before his face broke into a wide grin, shaking his head. “I was just joking.”

“Y/N just moved here,” Michael informed Calum who nodded.

“You’re in my History class, right?” He asked and Y/N’s eyes flashed with recognition and she nodded.

“Yeah,” she confirmed timidly.

“You should sit with me!” He told her and Michael frowned.

“Why aren’t you ever that excited to sit next to me?” He accused his best friend and Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her.

~~ 2009, Age 13 ~~

“Everything sucks and I want to die,” Y/N looked at Michael for a moment in silence before nodding.

“This is why we don’t talk too much,” she informed him and Michael scoffed.

“So not the reason,” he grumbled.

“No the reason is that Y/N has other friends,” Y/N couldn’t stop herself from smiling when she heard Calum’s voice and she turned around, watching him take the final few steps towards them in the lunch hall.

“I still sit with you guys on the bus every day,” she pointed out and Michael pointed at her with his fork

“Good - don’t you fucking dare forget your roots,” he said through a mouthful of food, making Y/N wrinkle her nose in disgust and she looked over at Calum to see a similar expression on his face. “I’m the only reason you have friends here,” he insisted, shovelling more food into his mouth,

“I forget why I sat with you today,” Y/N said to him.

“Because you knew I’d be here?” Calum offered with a cheesy grin.

“Because we were your best choice since Sandy’s being a bitch?” Michael offered instead and Y/N stuck her tongue out at her friend. “How mature.”

“Fuck you, Mikey.”

“You were nicer when you were anxious all the time.”

Y/N was friends with Calum and Michael - for the first half of term that Y/N was at the school the boys essentially took her under their wing, showing her around the school and introducing her to new people. But after that Y/N made her own friends, a group that ran in similar circles to Calum and Michael but they weren’t one group. 

Despite that, though, they still sat together on the bus every morning and evening and her and Michael still walked to and from the bus stop together. Michael’s mum still provided Y/N and Calum with a bottle of something to drink on the bus in the morning and the three of them did still hang out together, just not as often as they had when Y/N was still a new student.

“Heard you’re planning on trying out for the football team?” Y/N mentioned, looking over at Calum, who had just taken a bite from his sandwich and he nodded, his eyes bright.

“Yeah! Next week!” 

“That’s amazing, Cal!” 

The fluttering in their chests was inevitable, really. 

~~ 2010, Age 14 ~~

Calum looked up, surprised when Y/N slid into the seat next to him on the bus. 

“Mike’s ill,” she said awkwardly. “It’s... I’m still okay to sit here, right?” 

“Of course it’s okay,” Calum laughed and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at how adorable he looked when he smiled. “Has he just never been sick since you started here?” He questioned and Y/N shrugged.

“I guess so.” 

Silence fell between the two friends for a moment and then Y/N nodded towards Calum’s headphones.

“What’re you listening to?”

“All Time Low,” there was a pause before Calum asked: “want to listen?” 

“Is that okay?”

“You’ve not been this nervous around me since we first met,” Calum informed her and Y/N smiled, moving over into Michael’s usual seat, close enough to Calum so that they could listen to the music together.

“I like this album,” she admitted quietly.

“If you didn’t we’d have serious issues.”

Y/N smiled, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“Thanks for letting me listen,” Y/N said when they pulled into school and Calum shrugged.

“I saw you haven’t have yours for a while.”

“Yeah - the dog chewed them up,” she saw Calum’s eyes light up at the mention of her dog.

“How is Alan?” He asked as the two of them got off the bus.

“Misses you, Cal,” she assured, giggling.

“I miss him,” Calum sighed longingly.

“You can come over any time and see him,” Y/N pointed out. Calum smiled at her and nodded.

“I might take you up on that,” silence fell between them as they walked together towards the school.

Normally by this point in the morning Y/N would have left Calum and Michael to seek out her other friends and the two boys would go to the music room or Calum would have an early morning team meeting for football.

But this morning was different - this morning, neither of them wanted to leave the other.

Without Michael there, it was easier to get wrapped up in one another’s presence.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Calum’s hands were playing nervously with the straps of his bag, refusing to look over at his friend.

“Yeah?”

“Would you maybe wanna see a movie together, or something?” 

“We’re going to see one with Mike this weekend,” Y/N pointed out, laughing a little. “You already asked me, Cal.”

“No! No, i mean... one without him?” Calum offered awkwardly, clearly feeling he had gone too far now to go back on his question. “Like... just the two of us?” Y/N stopped in her tracks, staring wide-eyed at Calum.

“Are you... Cal, are you asking me on a date?” He looked up at last to meet her eyes, anxiety dancing in his. Y/N began to feel her own anxiety building up in her stomach, which was strange, she hadn’t felt nervous around Calum since the day that they first met. “Because... Because if you were,” she spoke again when she realised that Calum wasn’t going to clarify what he meant. “I’d... um I’d like that.”

~~ 2011 Age 15 ~~

“So you’ve found a drummer now?” Y/N asked from her seat in the music room, where she was watching Calum, Michael and their friend Luke tuning their instruments.

“Yeah - Michael found him,” Luke confirmed, giving a shy smile to Calum’s girlfriend.

Luke had been introduced to Y/N a few months ago by Michael and Calum as the guitarist in the band they were forming and yet the two of them were still painfully awkward around one another.

Not for Luke’s lack of trying, he was putting a lot of effort into befriending Y/N but she was constantly nervous when it came to talking to new people, even those who had been so highly talked of by her boyfriend and Michael.

“He’s called Ashton,” Michael supplied before looking to Calum with an unimpressed look on his face. “Don’t you tell your girlfriend anything?”

“No,” Calum shrugged, a smirk growing on his face. “All we talk about is how fucking annoying you are,” Calum looked over at his girlfriend when she snorted with laughter, her hands flying to her mouth in shock from the noise she had just made.

Calum bit his lip to stop himself from laughing and shook his head, affection evident in his actions.

“Well when we hang out we just talk about how much she regrets saying yes to your date,” Michael countered, challenging Calum.

Luke looked over at Y/N.

“Are they...?”

“Yeah,” Y/N filled in nodding with a sigh. “They’re always like this.” 

“Only because Mike’s bitter that I asked out Y/N before he could,” Calum gloated arrogantly and Luke and Y/N burst out into laughter at the look of disgust on Michael’s face.

“Should I be offended that you’re that against dating me, Mike?” The young boy rolled his eyes.

“Whatever - girls have cooties anyway.”

~~ 2012, Age 16 ~~

Y/N was sat on Calum’s bed, watching him pack.

He was chatting away happily to her, eager to tell her all of his plans for exploring London while he was away. Telling her all about the plans that the band had for their debut album that they were planning on recording since their first single and EP had been such a hit.

His eyes were bright and sparkling with excitement as he continued to go on about all of his plans.

Y/N just watched and listened, nodding her head and making noises of agreement whenever it seemed appropriate.

Calum paused for breath, his cheeks flushed with excitement and he turned to face her, his smile so heartbreakingly wide.

“Isn’t it insane?” 

Y/N nodded her head, trying to muster up excitement. Because she was excited. Of course she was excited both for Calum and the rest of the guys.

She had known Calum and Michael since they were all eleven and being in a band, recording albums, touring was all that they had ever dreamed of and now two thirds of that was already coming true and they were only fourteen, fifteen and sixteen.

“I’m really happy for you, Cal,” Y/N confirmed, her voice gentle and a little sad. Calum’s face dropped into a frown and he sat next to her on his bed, his arm resting around her shoulder.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah I just... I’m going to miss you,” she admitted, resting her own head on his shoulder.

“We’re not going to be gone for long,” he promised her.

“Come on, Cal, you have to realise by now that you guys are gonna be big, right?” Calum snorted a laugh at that.

“Yeah, well, we’re never going to forget our number one fan.”

“You can’t, Liz is going with you,” Y/N deadpanned, pride filling her chest when Calum started to laugh.

“It’s going to be weird not having you there,” Calum mused. “Who’s going to tell Michael that he sucks on the daily?”

“It’s okay, Cal, an ocean isn’t going to stop me from ensuring Mike’s head doesn’t get too big.”

“Well there’s a relief.”

~~ 2013, Age 17 ~~

“That’s amazing!” Y/N congratulated, amazement and pride filling her chest.

The previous two months had been interesting for them to say the least, with Calum in London with the band song writing and collaborating with other, UK-based artists. 

Y/N missed him - of course she missed the band as well, the three boys who she had become close with since the band had formed and she had met Luke and Ashton, and Michael who she had seen every day since she was twelve - but she wasn’t ashamed to admit she had missed Calum the most.

It was strange. They were so young and yet, they had spent nearing three years of their lives calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Too young to know about love and yet... that was what this was. Love in its purest, most innocent form.

“I can’t quite believe it,” Calum admitted and even with an ocean between them on a crappy phone connection Y/N could hear his smile. See his expression.

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Want a confession?” Calum asked, just a hint of guilt in his voice but amusement being the overlying tone.

“What?”

“I haven’t told my parents yet,” silence fell over the line for a moment before Y/N burst out laughing.

“Cal!” 

“I’m sorry!” 

“Don’t tell them that you told me first or they’ll be so offended!” 

“I promise,” Calum chuckled.

“You’re still coming home next week, right?” Y/N asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two teenagers.

“Yeah,” Calum confirmed. “And on the tour we’ll be playing in Sydney and the One Direction guys promised that they could get you a good ticket.”

“Man... I can’t believe you’re touring with One Direction,” Y/N reiterated and she heard her boyfriend release a long breath on the other side of the line.

“Neither can I,” his voice was a whisper.

“Hate to be that bitch but... I told you you were going to be big.”

“Mum did always say that I should listen to you,” Calum teased, causing Y/N to let out a gentle laugh.

“You can repay me by getting Louis’ autograph.”

Y/N had been joking at the time, but she wasn’t particularly surprised when Calum returned a week later and brought out a prototype shirt for the ‘Take Me Home’ tour which had been signed by all five members of One Direction.

~~ 2014, Age 18 ~~

Y/N’s arms were around Calum the moment he stepped out of the airport gate. Her boyfriend laughed, dropping his bags to the ground and wrapping his arms around her waist, nestling his face into her neck.

“Shit, you’re really here,” she mumbled and Calum’s arms tightened a little. If Y/N didn’t know any better she would have thought he was crying.

“I’m really here,” he confirmed. Y/N went to pull away but Calum wouldn’t let her. “Just give me a second,” he pleaded.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want the fans to see I’m crying,” he admitted bashfully and Y/N laughed.

“Calum Hood? Crying?” She teased and Calum laughed, pulling back but only so that he could kiss her for the first time in months.

“Fuck off,” he mumbled, resting their foreheads heavily together.

“I like the hair by the way,” Y/N added. “Very punk rock.”

“You know what I didn’t miss you,” Calum said decisively, pulling away from her, but the smile on his lips contrasted his words entirely.

“I wasn’t joking! I do like it!” She promised, her hands reaching up to gently comb through the curls. Calum’s face softened and he ducked down to kiss her again.

“I’m so glad I’m home,” he confessed and Y/N laughed a little into his mouth.

“I am too - but I’m sure your family is as well,” she pointed out.

When Calum went to go greet his parents, Joy pulling him into a bone crushing hug, Michael’s arms slipped around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

“Miss me?” He asked and Y/N laughed, turning around to hug her friend. 

“It’s so good to see you all again!”

“Is that us included?” Ashton piped up, looking over to Michael and Y/N with raised eyebrows.

“Not you.” Ashton giggled and walked over, wrapping his arms around Y/N and Michael, who were still hugging. Luke was swift to join in. “You guys stink!” Y/N groaned, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“Bloody rude,” Ashton commented as the three bandmates released her.

Calum reached over and interlaced their fingers, pulling Y/N back to his side.

“You two ready to go for food?” Joy asked, a knowing look sent to the couple. Calum pressed his lips to Y/N’s forehead and nodded.

~~ 2015, Age 19 ~~

“I’ve missed this,” Calum admitted, the two of them walking down the road, their hands linked together, swinging slightly where they hung between them. Y/N’s dog, Alan, was bounding down the road in front of them, knowing the path to the park well, able to quite contentedly lead the way, the couple following him.

“Yeah? You over your rockstar life already?” Y/N teased, squeezing Calum’s hand and he let out a soft laugh at her question, shaking his head.

“You’re really annoying sometimes, you know? Like, honestly, every time I even try and be cute you have to go and ruin it.”

“You trying to be cheesy and cute makes me uncomfortable because you’ve always been a bit of a shit to me,” Y/N told him, a serious expression on her face, which cracked the moment Calum shot her an offended look.

“It’s one hundred percent the other way around,” Calum grumbled.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Y/N scoffed.

“You and Ash have been taking the piss out of me ever since you first got introduced,” Calum claimed.

“Yeah - thanks for introducing us, by the way. I love Ash,” Calum burst out laughing at her tone, tugging on her hand to bring her closer so that he could kiss her temple.

“I’d say ‘you’re welcome’ but I do think that it’s the dumbest move I’ve ever made.”

Silence fell between them again as they followed Alan into the park. The outing made both Y/N and Calum feel somewhat nostalgic - walking Alan together around the park was something that they had done as dates since they got together and before they were together Michael would also join them after school.

Of course, all the band had tagged along at some point or another when Y/N went to walk her family dog but it was Calum’s favourite thing for them to do as a casual date - Y/N was insistent that it was because he preferred Alan to her, to which Calum never responded to other than to laugh.

“I’ve missed this too,” she finally confirmed, gently squeezing his hand again. “Walking Alan’s just not the same without you.”

~~ 2016, Age 20 ~~

“I’m so in love with you,” Calum’s words were whispered into Y/N’s hair. Calum’s arms were wrapped tightly around her, keeping her safe and secure, as close to him as he could physically manage to keep her.

A secret between the two of them. So much of his life now was public, had been since he was sixteen. Y/N and their relationship was the one thing now that felt private, that made him feel safe.

Even his friendship with Michael, the one he had had for as long as he could remember, was in the public eye, no longer with the privacy of inside jokes to hide behind. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he lost Y/N.

And he almost had.

Or at least, he thought he had.

Y/N had flown out to stay with him and the other guys on tour, having just finished university for the year and having the whole summer to do whatever she wanted, until she had to go back for the start of term in late September.

It was the first time she had been with him for anything other than the Australian leg of the tour and the two of them had been looking forward to it, planning it for months.

But it had all come crashing down so quickly.

Y/N wasn’t used to the same lifestyle as Calum anymore. She was used to the paparazzi following them around home occasionally, fans coming up and asking for pictures when they were together but nothing could have prepared her for tour.

Everything was publicised, all the time. Nothing felt private anymore. Y/N had never felt so exposed in her whole life and she despised it.

Y/N had panicked. They had gotten separated in a crowd of fans and Y/N had had a full blown panic attack, which Calum hadn’t seen happen because he was the other side of the crowd, taking photos. Ashton had found her and brought her safely back to the bus, where she had sat shaking with nervous energy, waiting for the boys to return.

Calum was the first through the door to the tour bus, rushing over to his girlfriend, eyes wide with worry as he tried to get a grasp on her mental state.

Y/N had assured him she was fine and Calum hated himself for dragging her into this kind of life, which she had never asked for.

“I love you too, Cal,” Y/N promised, nuzzling closer to him. They had taken themselves off to their bunk early, wanting to recover from the stress of the day. Normally they would at least pretend for a little while that they would be sleeping in separate bunks to avoid the teasing of their friends but they were both unwilling to leave the others side after the previous events.

“But... are you sure this is what you want?” Y/N rolled over so that she was hovering on top of him and if Calum hadn’t been caught up in his own thoughts and fears about their relationship he would be astounded by how gorgeous he thought she looked.

“Cal, I’ve loved you since we were thirteen... I’m not... of course this is what I want,” she settled on, leaning down to kiss him gently. “You’re what I want.”

“But this... this isn’t what you agreed to when we first started going out,” he pointed out, gesturing with his free hand around them at the tour bus and he watched as Y/N just shrugged.

“No - but it’s what I signed up for now, Cal... you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

~~ 2017, Age 21 ~~

“It’s nice that you’re finally taking a break,” Y/N mentioned, watching Calum bustle around his kitchen from her place sat on top of the breakfast bar.

Y/N normally did most of the cooking when they were together - she would joke about the only reason Calum inviting her down to spend her holidays with him was because she would cook for him.

But this morning, Calum had insisted on cooking her breakfast. Y/N had put up little fight and allowed Calum to do as he pleased, deciding on cooking pancakes for the two of them.

“Yeah - it gives us the time to actually properly think about this album, you know?” Y/N nodded in understanding. She knew how hectic the past few years for Calum and the band had been and she knew that they weren’t necessarily with all the songs they released as they could be had they just had a little more time.

It was also nice for them to be taking some extra time off and to themselves because it meant that she got to see Calum more with him flying himself to her university, her being able to get to LA and it was nice being able to see him so much.

“Okay, so I know it’s early to be asking this,” Calum stated, turning around with two plates of pancakes in hand. He stopped short though when he saw where Y/N was sat. “Can’t you just sit at a chair like a normal person for once in your life?” He sighed and Y/N laughed, moving off of the counter and taking a plate from Calum, pecking his lips.

“Thank you for breakfast,” she responded, sitting at the table. Calum rolled his eyes and sat opposite her.

“As I was saying,” he went back to his previous train of thought, shaking his head a little at his girlfriend’s antics, adoration swimming in his eyes. “I was thinking about us,” Y/N froze. She knew those words were almost never good. Calum picked up on her sudden nerves and reached over the table to grab her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he knew always soothed her. “Nothing bad, baby, I promise. Nothing bad,” he prefaced and Y/N nodded, letting out the breath she had been holding.

“If you say it’s nothing bad and now break up with me I’m going to kick your ass, Hood.” She mumbled, listening to Calum start to laugh.

“What I was going to ask is if you want to move in together when you’re done with uni?” Silence fell between them for a moment and Y/N nodded hesitantly.

“I do...”

“Is there a but?” Calum asked, his heart sinking at her expression. Y/N grimaced a little.

“I’m... where would we live? I... I’m not sure I want to live in LA, Cal.” 

Calum moved his hand in hers so that they were holding hands more properly and he squeezed it gently.

“Hey, that’s okay - we’ll figure it out, yeah? Reach a compromise?” Y/N nodded again, a nervous smile forming on her face.

“Then yeah - lets do it.” Calum beamed, leaning right across the table so that he could kiss her.

The couple were broken out of their bubble by the sound of Calum’s apartment door opening and gasps of delight coming from his band members, who just regularly invited themselves around.

“Nice! You made pancakes!”

~~ 2018 Age 22 ~~

Y/N shifted from foot to foot in front of Ashton’s house, waiting for him to answer the door. 

She had gotten a call from Calum about an hour ago during work, imploring her to come over the moment she was finished because he missed her.

Luke had taken the phone from him pretty quickly and insisted she bring alcohol with her as they were running out at Ashton’s house.

As Luke spoke to her, Y/N could hear Calum complaining in the background, which had made her laugh. 

Calum always was a clingy drunk.

“Oh thank fuck you’re here!” Michael exclaimed, reaching out of the door and pulling Y/N inside.

“You good, Mike?”

“Cal’s being complaining about you not being here for hours,” Michael groaned, dragging Y/N behind him into the kitchen.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of her. It had turned into a small party in Ashton’s kitchen. Calum, Luke, Ashton and Michael all had dazed looks in their eyes, their smiles slightly dopy and their laughs just a little too hysterical.

Sierra and Crystal were also in the kitchen, sat at Ashton’s bar with drinks in front of them, watching the band members in amusement.

“It’s literally half past five and they’re hammered,” Y/N stated, joining the two girls, who laughed, nodding their heads in agreement.

“They were smashed after the first video,” Sierra contributed.

“Well... Mike and Luke definitely were,” Crystal mused. “I think Cal and Ash hung on until the second.”

“Y/N!” Calum’s voice broke through the room and Y/N turned around, raising her eyebrows at her boyfriend, who had raised his arms, eyes bright in delight as they fixed on her.

“Cal you’re in the middle of filming!” Y/N pointed out.

“I don’t care! Come here!” He pleaded but Y/N shook her head.

“Not drunk enough for that, babe,” she told her and Calum’s eyes slipped over to Sierra and Crystal, pointing at them seriously.

“Get her drunk so she’ll come on camera - need to show her off,” Calum took another drink and Y/N turned back to the girls.

“Okay at what point do we need to cut them off?”

~~ 2019 Age 23 ~~

“You okay?” Y/N asked when Calum flopped onto the sofa next to her on the tour bus, resting her free hand in his hair as she continued to scroll through her phone.

“Yeah,” Calum sighed, nuzzling closer to her. “Glad you’re here.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Y/N pointed out, gently running her fingers down his cheek. “Couldn’t let you spend our anniversary alone,” she teased.

“I’m sorry we’re stuck on the bus for it,” he sighed but Y/N just shrugged.

“I don’t mind, Cal - plus, lets be honest, even if we weren’t stuck on the tour bus, the guys would find a way to crash our plans. They always do.”

It was true. Calum and Y/N had never managed to have an anniversary where it was just the two of them. Every year at least one of them would crash it and invite themselves along to whatever it was that the couple were doing. When they moved in together they had been hopeful of spending a quiet anniversary together at their home with just Duke for company.

It had been a vain hope and both Luke and Ashton had invited themselves along to their movie night.

By this stage, Y/N and Calum were pretty much certain that they just did it to annoy them.

This year, Y/N had booked off two weeks from work months in advance so that she could join Calum on tour and Calum when he was looking at the dates for the tour had done his best to ensure that they could spend their anniversary in a hotel rather than on the move so that they could go on a real celebration to a fancy restaurant.

Unfortunately, at the last minute there had been a change in the tour and more dates had been added, meaning that they were spending the night of their anniversary on the tour bus, Calum having spent the day doing promo with the band and the Chainsmokers.

“Yeah I know,” Calum sighed. “Guess I just wished this year had been different,” he admitted. Y/N’s smile softened and she put her phone to the side, ducking down to kiss him.

“Nine years, Cal - that’s quite a while,” she mused and Calum nodded in agreement. “Having any doubts?” She teased and Calum reached his hand up to curl around her neck, ensuring that she remained close enough for him to kiss her again.

“With you? Never.”

~~ 2020 Age 24 (almost) ~~

Calum’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his face nestling into the crook of her neck.

“What’re you doing up?” He mumbled.

“Jet lag,” Y/N sighed, relaxing back into his arms a little bit.

They had only recently flown back home to their LA apartment (Y/N had given in to his pleads for them to move to LA, understanding that it was where Calum needed to be) from spending the time with their families in Australia.

“Could’ve woken me,” he told her and Y/N chuckled lightly.

“I know - but you need sleep, Cal,” she turned around in his arms, wrapping her arms back around him. 

“I need good sleep - I only sleep well with you,” he told her, not a hint of untruth in his voice, just telling her what he honestly felt. “Been an issue since we first shared a bed when we were sixteen.” 

“Sorry to ruin your sleep like that,” she giggled when she heard Calum’s breath against her neck, laughing.

“What were you doing anyway?”

“Just on Instagram,” Y/N shrugged. “Looking through my tagged.”

“Anything interesting?” Calum asked, practically dragging Y/N over to the chair situated on their balcony, sitting down first and pulling Y/N on top of him in an attempt to keep himself warm.

“Everyone wishing us happy anniversary,” Y/N told him.

“Our anniversary was months ago,” Calum pointed out, blinking his bleary eyes to focus them on her screen.

“I haven’t been on in a while,” she admitted. “Stalked you for a bit as well.” She mused. “Liked the post you put up for our anniversary,” Y/N added and Calum chuckled.

“You really haven’t been on in a while.”

“It was cute,” she told him, turning around and cuddling closer to his chest.

“Thought you were gonna hate me from putting up photos from when we were fourteen.”

“As Mike would say,” Y/N cleared her throat. “I would never forget my fucking roots,” she said, a poor imitation of Michael’s accent sending Calum into fits of laughter.

“That was awful,” he told her as he tried to catch his breath aain.

“It made you laugh,” Y/N shrugged, looking up at him, a softness in her eyes that was reserved purely for him.

Calum felt privileged in the knowledge that it had been for him and only him to see ever since they were fourteen. To know that no one else had ever seen that look directed towards them.

“That’s all I ever really want to do,” she promised.

“I love you so much,” Calum whispered. He took her hand and placed it over his chest. “This beats for you,” he brought the hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to each finger and went back to kiss her ring finger again. “We’ve been together almost ten years and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Cal...”

“This isn’t an official proposal,” Calum prefaced, shaking his head. “Not yet - the ring isn’t ready yet,” Y/N’s eyes widened and Calum’s lips perked up at the reaction. “Didn’t you think I was going to propose?”

“I mean, I guess,” Y/N shrugged and Calum kissed her, their lips moving together in a way that was so comforting and normal for them.

“So it’s not an official proposal until I get the ring,” their foreheads were pressed heavily together, breathing into one another’s mouths. “But I just needed - need - you to know that I want to marry you. And...” Calum trailed off, seeming to loose some confidence.

“Whenever you’re ready, Cal,” Y/N vowed, kissing him again. “Whenever you’re ready to ask, I’m ready to say yes.”

Before you go: If you enjoyed this fic and want some more of it, check my blurb masterlist under 5sos blurbs and there you can find any spinoff blurbs I have done for this fic :)

[clumsyclifford]

hi! idk if you're still doing the prompts but if you are #47? whatever pairing you're vibing with atm 😊 -🦥

HELLO! first of all, the pairing bot gave me malum after it gave me cashton twice but i didn’t feel like doing this for cashton so i wrote it malum, hope that’s cool. ALSO. one day i am going to write a real proper epistolary fic, mark my words, but for now this is all i have to offer you. i know it’s rather different from like. a Normal fic. but i had fun writing it so :)

read on ao3

-

Dear Calum,

My mum suggested I write you a letter because of the whole data thing in Brazil. I don’t know what that really means but apparently calling would be extremely expensive so I’m doing this now. Maybe it’s weird. Don’t really care. Deal with it.

So how is Brazil? I don’t know the time difference. Wait, I can look it up. Google says 13 hours. That means you’re a day behind me half the time. I’m in your future! It doesn’t look good for you, Cal. Future is pretty grim. If I were you I would stay in the past. Although by the time you get this it will be way in the future for both of us…oops. Oh well. I tried.

Anyway. What was I saying. Brazil? How is it? Hot, I bet. Probably playing loads of football. Luke and I have been playing FIFA but it’s so not the same. He sucks at it and he doesn’t even cheat because he’s boring I guess or has “morals” or whatever (his words not mine). I miss playing FIFA with you. Always beating Luke is not fun. Okay it’s a little fun. But I still miss you. As soon as you’re back you’re reclaiming the player 2 controller. Did I mention that I miss you? You probably get it.

What can I update you about here? There’s not a lot to say. Nothing has really happened. At least not in my life. Oh! I can tell you a secret but don’t tell Luke I told you because he will definitely kill me. Not that you have any way to reach Luke. Don’t go behind my back and write a letter to Luke telling him I told you this. Anyway: Luke fancies Ashton! I totally got him to admit it during one of the FIFA games I mentioned. It was almost cute if I’m honest. He turned really red and got all blushy and stammery. I am now wondering if I should meddle or not. On the one hand, Ashton must like him back, right? Have you seen the two of them? I don’t want to deal with intra-band sexual tension. Unless it’s ours. We’ve already claimed the “insufferable band boyfriends” role though, so do we really want this to happen? I don’t really know what I’m arguing anymore. I don’t think I’ll do anything for now. Will keep you updated in case anything dramatic happens. Then again I have no idea how long it’ll be before you receive this. Something very dramatic might happen while this is in the post. Let me ask my mum. Okay she says it could be two weeks. That’s fucking long. You might just have to come back and get the Luke/Ashton updates in real time.

Besides from that there isn’t much to report. Everything is the same. Except I’m a lot lonelier now. This is what you’ve done to me Calum. I’m returning to my natural introvert state. I need you here, Cal!! Otherwise I’ll just have to become a turtle and by the time you’re back it might be too late. 

I’m joking by the way. I hope you’re having a good time at football camp. Making new friends and learning Brazilian(?) Portuguese and kicking everyone’s arse and showing them up. I’m sure you are. I just miss you lots. :( Counting down the days!

Sending you lots of kisses and cuddles through the post,

Mikey

~

Dear Michael,

I don’t care either! I think writing letters is cool. We’re like lovers at war. Except neither of us are going to die. Probably. (Some of these footballers are CRAZY good. You never know!)

Actually, Brazil is pretty nice. It’s winter so the days have actually been not too hot, thankfully. It’s exhausting enough playing as it is. If it got any hotter, I might actually pass out. Forever. They’d have to ship me home in a body bag. (Are those only for dead people? Maybe not a body bag.)

It’s been almost two weeks since you sent your letter (I assume you sent it soon after I left?) which means there’s a good chance this one won’t get to you until I do, but in case it does I’m going to write and post it anyway. I hope by now you’re getting on better with Luke. If I’ve said it once or a million times, you guys have a lot in common and I really think you could be best friends if you weren’t both such stubborn shitheads. Which I say in the nicest way possible!

Of course Luke fancies Ashton, he’s liked Ashton since…honestly I don’t know when. Months and months at least. And Ashton clearly likes him back. I’ve never seen two people less capable of hiding their feelings. I’m surprised you didn’t notice before. Please tell me you decided to meddle in the end. You’re right, we can’t handle more sexual tension in the band. Don’t worry, they can’t possibly be more insufferable than we are. We are the most annoying boyfriends on the planet. We’re writing each other letters. Basically, it’s best for everyone involved if they get over themselves. Suck it up and kiss already! My friend Gustavo agrees with me. Also he says hi. (Well he says “oi” but I translated for you. See, I can do stuff like that. Kinda cool, right?)

I miss you too, you know. Very much. This might sound weird, but I keep having dreams about you? Like…I’ll be dreaming about whatever (usually football these days) and then you’ll just be there. Clearly my subconscious also knows I miss you. You know Ashton says that when you dream about someone, it’s because they’re thinking about you, so I hope that’s true. It’s kind of a cute idea. I hope you’re thinking about me. I’m thinking about you. Obviously. A lot. A lot.

There is one thing I want to tell you, though. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this, and the more I think about it the crazier it feels, but also more right. So…I think I’m gonna do the band. Not football. This is cool and all, but everyone here is so scary good, and…I don’t know. Maybe this is stupid but I don’t like the idea of a future without you when I could have a future with you. Like with the band, I mean. And I know it’s not the most practical dream, but imagine how cool it would be if it actually worked out. You know I like a challenge. So, anyway…that’s kind of where I’m at now. I’m going to keep thinking about it for the last two weeks here, but I don’t think I’ll change my mind. Don’t tell anyone, please. I just wanted to tell you as soon as I knew. My parents are going to be soooo mad. Not excited to tell them, but this feels like the right decision.

Anyway…this got weirdly deep. Sorry. Here’s something super not-deep to make up for it: one of the football coaches here has a dog whose name in English is pasta! PASTA! (It might be apple. Apparently they’re the same word just spelled differently and the Brazilians here can clearly tell the difference. I cannot. But I think it’s way funnier if the dog’s name is pasta so I’m going with that. Not that apple is much better? Imagine seeing any dog at all and thinking, “You know what this dog’s name should be? A common food item.” LOL.)

This letter is so long and I’m running out of space on the page and I also really need to go to sleep! The boys are telling me to turn off the lights. I miss you so much. Football camp is fun, but I can’t wait to be back. Counting down the days!

Thank you for the cuddles and kisses I am sending them right back to you,

Cal

~

“Oh my God,” Michael mumbles into Calum’s shoulder, “you smell.”

Calum laughs, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on Michael. “Seriously? I haven’t seen you in a whole month and that’s the first thing you say?”

“Ugh, I missed you so much, but that’s boring to say, you already knew it,” Michael says, drawing back to kiss Calum for a second. Then he buries his face in Calum’s neck. “Seriously, I’m not joking, if you ever leave me alone for that long again, I will die.”

“You had Luke. And Ashton.”

Michael groans loudly and overdramatically. “Ashton is busy with family stuff all the time and don’t you dare compare yourself to Luke.”

“We’re going to talk about this,” Calum says. “You’re going to be friends with him if it kills me.”

“Then prepare to die,” Michael says. Calum laughs, pressing a kiss to the slope of Michael’s neck. “I tried, okay? I promise I did. I said in my letter we were playing FIFA! Did you get my letter? I didn’t know how to check if it ever actually arrived.”

“I got it,” Calum says, stomach lurching with nerves. Ignoring them for the moment, he squeezes Michael and then steps back to give him a full once-over. “I loved it. It made me laugh. God, I really missed you, you know?”

“Join the fucking club,” Michael says, smiling. He’s been smiling this whole time, Calum realises; he’s just good at sounding like he’s whining even when he’s smiling. That’s probably the most Michael thing Michael can do.

“Alright, boys,” Mali says from a ways away. “Come on. Let’s go. And seriously, Calum? You hug Michael but not me?”

Calum throws his arms around Mali, and Mali wraps him in a hug. “Missed you,” Calum says sweetly in her ear. “Thank you for coming to get me. And for bringing Michael.”

“You’re welcome,” Mali says drily. They separate and Mali just gives him a small smile. “And I missed you too, you punk. Come on, you both. Baggage claim awaits.”

Mali takes off and Calum lingers behind until he can throw an arm over Michael’s shoulder. Michael leans heavily into him. It’s been so long since the last time Calum had Michael in his arms, but it’s so immediately familiar that it almost knocks Calum off his feet. 

“So…” Calum bites his lip. “Did you get my letter? I sent it just after yours arrived, but I don’t know if it got here before me.”

Michael shakes his head. “Nope, nothing.” Something in his voice tells Calum he’s making no mistake. He’d probably checked the mail every day, just to see. There’s a pang in Calum’s chest, all mixed up with the anxiety flitting out to his fingertips from inside his rib cage. 

“Oh,” Calum says. “Well, there was something in there that I wanted to tell you, but I guess I’ll just tell you now. Um.” He drops his voice to a half-whisper, clears his throat. “I don’t want to tell Mali or anyone yet, but…I decided I’m not going to do football.”

Michael jerks. “What?”

“I want to be in the band,” Calum says quietly. His heart is racing, but at least it’s racing towards the finish line instead of away. This is the right decision. He’s…ninety-five percent sure. That’s enough to know. It has to be enough to know. “I just, you know, football is fun, but music is more fun. To me. And anyway, um.” He rubs the back of his neck. “If I have a choice between a career that has you in it or one that doesn’t, I choose you. Obviously.”

“You’re gonna be in the band?” Michael repeats lowly, looking over at Calum like he’s seeing something he’s never seen before. “Seriously? You’d give up football?”

Calum shrugs, nods. “Yeah. I know my parents are going to kill me, but I don’t care. This is what I want.”

Michael stares at him. “I love you,” he says, and then kisses Calum too fiercely to give Calum adequate time to process that. 

By the time they break apart, he’s processed it. And as he inhales to catch his breath, licking his lips, he knows with one-hundred-percent certainty that this is the right choice.

“I love you too,” Calum says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Where Michael is concerned, it usually is.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

NITA STRAUSS Celebrates Six Years Of Sobriety

Nita Strauss is celebrating the sixth anniversary of her getting sober.

Earlier today (Sunday, September 5), the 34-year-old guitar shredder for the ALICE COOPER band Instagrammed an image revealing she had been sober for six years, 72 months, 2,193 days or 52,608 hours. She captioned it simply: "Grateful."

When Nita celebrated the fifth anniversary of her getting sober last year, she credited her longtime boyfriend and manager Josh Villalta with helping her live her life without alcohol. At the time, she wrote: "I thought I needed a drink for just about everything. To be confident on stage. To be social after shows. To celebrate. To mourn. To take the edge off frustration or the sting out of a bad day. To relax and laugh at lunch with girlfriends, or watch football with the guys on Sundays.

"I was terrified that my life was going to change, that without alcohol I wouldn't be ME anymore, that I would lose my circle of friends, and my onstage charisma, and become someone else.

"ALL those things happened... but not in the way I thought they would.

"Change came first in my relationship, in the form of less fighting and drama, and more productivity, peace and love. Thank you @thejoshv for being the catalyst to the best thing I ever did for myself. I love you.

"The ME that I was before would have stayed up until 6 am at the bar or in the bus front lounge. The ME that I became would rather get up at 6 and get to the gym before starting the day.

"My busy circle of friends was almost immediately reduced to a core 3. I've learned that when it comes to friendships, quality is ALWAYS better than quantity. If your friends have no interest in spending time with you after you make a change for the better, they weren't your real friends.

"My first show without alcohol was in front of 15,000 people. I felt like a scarecrow someone had propped up on stage to scare birds. Nothing felt natural. I was going through the motions, with this absurd idea running through my head 'everyone is looking at me. Everyone knows.'

"I went out by the bus to talk to fans afterward, and do you know what they said? 'Wow you were so great! Where do you get all that energy? You add so much to Alice's band!'

"ALL of that insecurity, ALL the fears, ALL the doubt was in my head. Those are your demons that make you think you need them.

"I'm content to sit at the bar, order a soda water with lime and watch the game now. I wouldn't trade back to my old life for anything."

Back in 2018, Nita spoke openly about how she got finally sober in September 2015, saying that her boyfriend has always been "a tough-love type" in the way she approached her sobriety. "He's, like, 'Look, you're on this path, and I support you, but I'm not changing the way I do things at all," she explained in an interview with "Chasing Glory With Lilian Garcia". "And I'm kind of glad, in retrospect, that he did that, because it threw me into the fire and showed me, like, 'Hey, you can be [around people who are drinking] and not drink.' He has continued to drink throughout [this entire period], but he didn't want me to drink, because when I would drink, I would start fights and I would get emotional and I would overreact to stupid things, like you do when you drink — it's part of drinking; it heightens all your emotions and everything." Nita also revealed that she has never participated in Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) to help her stay sober.

Strauss has been playing with Alice Cooper since 2014 when she replaced Australian musician and former Michael Jackson player Orianthi. She joined Alice in time for a mammoth MÖTLEY CRÜE tour. She was recommended to Cooper by the legendary rocker's former bass player and WINGER frontman Kip Winger.

Nita's debut solo album, "Controlled Chaos", was released in November 2018 via Sumerian Records.

[itsawritblr]

I saw “The Protege.”

Michael Keaton is the only reason I saw The Protege.

I don’t like violent movies.  Hate them, actually.  I don’t find violence entertaining, and I don’t understand people who are entertained by it. I don’t get any kind of vicarious release from watching people doing godawful physical things to each other.  I’m not against these movies. I just choose to avoid them, the same way I avoid watching football, reality TV shows, and ballet.

I read all the spoilers about The Protege, as well as a few reviews, so I pretty much knew what I was in for.  Except reviewers rarely mention the level of blood and bone-snapping in movies anymore.  Ever since CG became so incredibly realistic, films, and TV, have taken advantage of the tech to show horrible things in detail.  Children have grown up watching The Sopranos, Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead.  Why would reviewers mention something that even little kids are used to?

So I wasn’t prepared for the sights and sounds of people having nightmarish (to me) things done to them.  A couple happened so suddenly I wasn’t able to close my eyes in time.  I kept them closed, but the Foley artist’s sounds were very effective in getting across what was happening.  I felt queasy a couple times from the audio alone.

The plot was rife with tropes, which is fine, because it’s a thriller.

Being Hapa, it was great to see a Hapa woman as the MC.  I loved her bookshop and her kitty.  Keaton’s character walking in was like a Villy fanfic where Modern V.A. comes into Milly Farrier’s bookshop.  Anna banters with him the way I’d love to write Milly bantering with V.A.

How could I not think of V.A.?  Remember that Dumbo promo poster, with Vandevere in a blue suit he never wears in the movie?

Welp, he wears it in this movie.

At dinner he wears an ascot.  This is fanfiction Modern V.A., I swear.

Now that I think of it, he does have a gray suit.  Also like V.A.

It was really annoying when the Villy-inspiring moments were interrupted with heads being blown apart and bashed in, arms being snapped, stabbings and shootings.  I impatiently munched on Raisinets while I waited for the next Anna-Rembrandt scene.

My patience paid off.  Not only was there Hot Banter While Threatening to Kill Each Other Over Dinner . . .

 . . . there’s THAT scene.

SPOILERS AFTER THIS

Rembrandt and Anna are trying to kill each other, they keep grabbing each other and looking hornily at each other, and Anna accidentally turns on a stereo which plays hot, horny music. They’re on a glass table, Rembrandt flips them, and they fall, crashing through the table and onto the floor, Anna on top of Rembrandt.  He rolls them over, and, while on top, he growls, “You’re going to have to make up your mind.  Either kill me or fuck me.”

Immediately the scene goes to a bed, with shirtless Rembrandt rolling off Anna, and they lay next to each other, huffing from the exertion of what must have been intense fucking.

SHIRTLESS MICHAEL KEATON, Y’ALL

But this is where I get pissed off.  Before this there’s been explict gore and blood, tons of it.

But they couldn’t do an explicit, or damn near explict, scene of Keaton humping??  They couldn't show Anna arching her back and crying out as Keaton groans and pumps like mad??  What the actual not-explicit fuck??

I don’t reread my own fics, but now I need to reread As Long As You Love Me So, because I need a V.A.-and-Milly-fucking fix.

Also, there was a continuity glitch.  The scene starts off with the sheet down as far as Rembrandt’s waist, or close enough.  It then switches to Anna talking.  When it switches back to Rembrandt, the sheet’s higher.  But still can see that lovely, curly gray chest hair that would make Milly, and me, swoon and pet him.

To be honest, I felt no chemistry from Anna/Maggie Q toward Rembrandt/Keaton.  She said the lines, but her face just looked kind of . . . not really feeling it.  I think, like Milly in Dumbo, Anna is meant to be so traumatized from her really godawful childhood that she can’t express emotions well.  But, even as I type this, I realize that’s not true.  Samuel L. Jackson plays a man who saved her as a little girl and was her surrogate father.  You can see Anna loves him deeply.  But I got no real lust from her for Rembrandt.

As for Keaton, he did better.  But it wasn’t hot, panting lust.  It was like those acting classes when you’re trying to do a scene with a partner who’s just not as committed as you are.  He was, but Maggie Q., not so much.  Now that I think about it, I’ve never really seen Keaton do hot, horny lust.  With the exception of Beetlejuice. (but there are lot of his films I haven’t seen yet)

There’s an air of pining around Rembrandt for the rest of the movie.  When he and Anna have their final face-off, he’s trying to convince her that there can be more, for both of them.  But, of course, there can’t be a Happy Ending.  One has to kill the other.  It’s Anna who walks out alive.  I was spared seeing Rembrandt killed; it happens off-screen.

I wanted the last scene to be Rembrandt and Anna in their bookshop, him petting the shop kitty while she sells a rare First Edition.  But that’s a fanfic ending.

If you’re a Keaton fan and don’t mind gore and a not-challenging plot, the movie’s worth it for Keaton.  But just Keaton.  As this review says:

Review: As soon as Michael Keaton shows up, he elevates 'The Protégé'

I noticed that Keaton’s face is starting to show his age.  But.  At 70 (as of Sept. 5) he looks like 60.  And he moves like 40.  Whatever, he’s still hot as hell.

Extra crap about the movie that has nothing to do with Keaton:

The Evil Villain Rembrandt works for who Anna’s trying to kill lives on his own island in Vietnam.  Yes, the Evilest of Evil has an Evil Island, because all Evilest of Evils have one.

Naturally, the island is packed end to end with security forces.  They’re in full SWAT gear, have flocks of drones, tanks, helicopters, dogs, probably some Lovecraftian monster swimming its perimeters.  Because of course you have to convince the audience that No One Can Breach This Impenetrable Fortress It’s Impossible Don’t Even Try It It’s A Waste Of Your Time And Ours.

And of course Anna does.  By chopping her hair super-short and impersonating a waitress.

Because I guess this guy’s Evil Empire Staff didn’t do a background check?  I had to fucking pee in a cup and have my background scoured when I applied at a frickin’ jewelry store, but these guys, who are protecting a man tons of people want to murder, didn’t make absolutely goddamn sure any and all references and work histories were sound?  I guess Anna and Samuel L. Jackson mocked up a false identity so iron-clad the Evil Empire HR looked at her resume, shrugged, and put it in the Probably Not An Assassin pile.

Call me ruthless, but thrillers do not know how to wipe out an Evil Empire On An Evil Villain Island.

Two words:

Napalm. Sarin gas.

OK, that’s three words.

Now this shit is so truly evil that no one uses these as weapons in movies.  Hitler didn’t even use gas, because, putrid heinous scum that he was, even he was traumatized by what mustard gas did in the trenches in WWI.

And people in Vietnam know exactly how indescribably abhorrent Napalm is.  So do those of us who grew up watching the results of it on the 6 o’clock news.

Plus, in a movie, those weapons are too effective, and aren’t good visually.  You can’t shoot or stab Napalm or gas.  You can’t blow them up or break their necks. In a movie thriller you want bullets blasting everywhere at 100,000 miles per hour, gouging holes in walls, ceilings, and floors.  You want fighters in a clinch, punching, spinning, flipping, until the final Kill Move.

This is why thrillers bore me, because I’m not interested in any of that stuff.

[spaceskam]

From A Whisper To A Scream (4/10)

warnings: torture basically, sprinkle in a little trauma

1 | 2 | 3 |

ao3

“Alright, you got five seconds to come out of there.”

Michael froze, laying on the backseat of the broken-down ‘97 Audi. He was hoping if he stayed still enough, Sanders would forget he ever saw any kind of movement. Did he move? He couldn’t remember. He must’ve dozed off.

“Now, I ain’t about to tell you again. Get out of there.”

Michael closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He’d been trying at the junkyard for a couple of weeks now with no problem. He knew it was too good to be true. Slowly, he sat up and made eye contact with Old Manes Sanders. He gestured for Michael to get out and Michael listened. 

“You gonna tell me why you’re in there at 7 in the morning or am I supposed to read your mind?” Sanders asked. Michael just stared straight ahead.

“I’ll leave, don’t worry about it,” Michael said. Sanders snorted a laugh.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere until you tell me what’s goin’ on,” Sanders told him. Michael glared. At fifteen, he wasn’t as tall as Sanders, but he was nothing if not willing to overcompensate with anger. 

“I’m not telling you shit.”

“Don’t get snappy with me, boy,” Sanders said, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Michael snapped. Sanders took a deep breath, giving him a very unimpressed look. But it wasn’t pity either. That was the only thing keeping him from storming off.

“Look, you ain’t gotta tell me specifics, but, that home you’re supposed to be at, it’s so bad that you’re sleepin’ in the junkyard? Or is it you just feeling rebellious?” Sanders asked. Anger boiled beneath Michael’s skin at the insinuation that he was overreacting. Max did that stuff even when he was well-meaning. Just because he didn’t spill every tiny detail didn’t mean he was a liar.

Despite his better judgment, Michael pulled up his sleeve and showed the healing burn mark on his arm that had directly covered an older burn scar they put there before. Forever engraved with a cross, reminding him that he was a freak of nature when it came to these humans. But he wasn’t about to let Sanders drag him back.

“Come inside, eat somethin’ ‘cause you look like a sack of bones, and then we’re headin’ over to that house.”

“No!” Michael yelled, a little more desperation in his voice than he intended.

“We’re gonna head over there,” Sanders repeated, louder and firmer, “So you can get your shit. Then we’re gonna find your social worker and figure out what we need to do to make sure you stay out of places like that.”

“What?” Michael scoffed, “You don’t think they’re gonna just throw me somewhere else for running? Juvie, this time, probably.”

“Well, if things go like they should’ve gone damn near a decade ago now, you’ll stay with me and I ain’t gonna put up with the running away shit,” Sanders said. It shut Michael right up.

He didn’t understand what he was being told. It almost sounded like someone wanted to keep him around. 

“Why?” Michael asked cautiously.

Sanders sighed and looked everywhere but at him.

“Long time ago, I met a nice lady who took care of me like I was her own and she showed me where her own actually was. Made a promise I’d keep an eye out for him and I ain’t about to break it now,” he said, leaving out far too many details. Michael felt like he got punched in the gut and his head spun. He didn’t understand.

“Wait, does that mean you know‒” my mom, what I am, where I’m from, what I’m capable of, if I’m dangerous, “That I‒”

“You want breakfast or not?” Sanders asked gruffly, already walking away.

Michael ran after him.

-

Michael gasped back into consciousness and Eff stood over him with confused eyes and an acupuncture needle in his hand.

“What’d you see?” Eff asked.

“When my dad decided he was gonna adopt me,” Michael said. Eff made a face like that was disappointing, but he nodded and took a few steps back to record it in his notebook. Michael lifted a shaky hand to rub the nearly invisible hole on his left temple.

Apparently, aliens had very similarly placed pressure points to humans, but they did very different things. Provoking them could trigger powers or memories or any number of things that the brain could do in someone’s subconscious. It took them a few tries to find the exact point on Michael’s head to stab a needle into, but, when he found it, he was thrown back to being just a kid.

“Let’s test your telekinetic limit again, see if that affected it in any way,” Eff said, taking the gloves off and dropping the needle into a glass of some ambiguously clear substance to sterilize it. 

Michael stood to his feet, feeling a little dizzy from the memory. Eff gave him the space to do so and waited for him to get steady before they walked outside.

Eff’s workplace of choice was a small shed in the middle of nowhere. No one lived for miles in any direction and the only way someone could find it is if they knew where it was and they were willing to drive 45 minutes into the desert. It had a couch, a cot, a bathroom, and a kitchen area. Most of the shed, though, was covered in equipment to test on Michael.

It turns out, though, that everything got a lot less scary the more he was there. Yeah, Eff was still mean and he never let Michael truly forget that he didn’t see him as an equal, but, for the most part, it wasn’t that bad. Or at least he’d focused on the bright side. This was the first person who was allowing and actively encouraging Michael to explore things about himself that he’d never gotten the chance to. If this was his fate, it wasn’t the worst.

So what if it was slightly off his game and tired and hadn’t had nearly enough alone time with Alex. It was better than having none of those at all.

“Alright, lift the truck again,” Eff said, pulling out his stopwatch, “And I swear to God, if you drop it again, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael held out his hand and focused. The 5,000lb truck was definitely a strain on his abilities, but it felt so nice. It was like an itch that he’d been waiting to scratch, a muscle being stretched, a lung filling with air. This was what he needed. Yesterday, he’d been able to hold it up for 45 seconds before he got a nosebleed and dropped it. Before the needle, he’d again only got to 45 seconds before he had to put it down to prevent dropping it again. No nosebleed.

Now, a little stretched out and a little more excited about what he could do, he fought through the shakiness and ignored the itchy feeling of an oncoming bloody nose. He breathed steadily and just focused. Eventually, though, he gave out and put the car down, dropping to his knees and catching his breath. He wiped his nose and caught his breath.

“One minute, seven seconds. Not bad,” Eff said. Michael smiled. “Now throw the ball.”

Michael took a few extra seconds to breathe before slowly getting back to his feet. He turned his attention to the steel ball that was somewhere around 100lbs, give or take. Michael breathed in deep before picking it up and hurling it as hard as his body would allow at a mat that was propped up 20 yards away that was only there to stop it from going too far.

“Only 35mph,” Eff said.

“You didn’t give me enough time to recover,” Michael argued.

“Doesn’t excuse your shitty number,” he said. Michael clenched his jaw. And he was almost doing good. “Get inside, we’re doing a few more pressure points.”

“Do you know when you’ll let me go home? I have homework,” Michael said, still staring out into the distance.

“Why are you doing homework still?” Eff scoffed.

Michael was about to ask why he wouldn’t, but then he remembered who he was talking to. Eff didn’t see a need because he didn’t think Michael would have a future.

He’d be the one personally making sure he didn’t.

-

Alex walked into the Crashdown with his eyes tied to his phone.

Ever since last Saturday had ended in him holding Michael all night, things had been a little weird. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, just that Michael’s mind wasn’t always with him. He wasn’t begging Alex to come over every night like he usually did, simply satisfied with making out in the back of the truck before Alex had to go home. Tuesday Alex had gone to his house to surprise him only to be told Michael wasn’t home. It’d caused so much embarrassment Alex refused to even drive in that direction unless Michael specifically asked ever again.

Alex didn’t want to push or assume or be that guy. Being with Michael was fun and nice, but there was clearly something going on with him and if he was having second thoughts about them, Alex wasn’t about to try and beg him to stay. Besides, it might not even be that. He might be embarrassed for breaking down or there might be a football thing Alex didn’t know about or any number of things. He didn’t know, he hadn’t really gotten the chance to ask. He wasn’t going to act like Michael was pulling away until he knew for sure. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t stare at his phone.

Good timing, too, because it rang.

“Hello, littlest brother,” Flint said loudly into the phone, clearly on speaker with the sound of a car running in the background. Alex smiled just as Arturo, the owner of the Crashdown, came up to take his order.

“Hey, give me one second,” he said, moving the phone to tell Arturo his order. He nodded and told him to tell Flint that he said hi. “Mr. Ortecho said hi.”

“Hello, Mr. Ortecho!” Flint said loud enough that Arturo heard it. He chuckled and walked back into the kitchen. “So, I got some good news.”

“What is it? You finally got that stick surgically removed from your ass?”

“I’m personally offended by that. I thought we were on the same team when it came to the stick being in Clay’s ass,” Flint said. Alex huffed a laugh. “No, but I’m coming into town soon.”

“Wait, for real?” Alex asked, excitement coursing through his system. As much as his brothers annoyed him and he thought Flint was just as lame for listening to their father, he loved them. He also loved not having to be alone with his dad all the time. “When?”

“I’m thinking Monday or Tuesday? Soon, I’ll keep you updated so we can make plans,” Flint said, “Gotta give some shit to Dad.”

“Okay, yeah, can’t wait,” Alex said.

“Tell me something fun, though, what’s going on with you? Anything new?” Flint asked.

Alex bit down on his lip and wondered if he should mention Michael. He wanted to. He never really came out to Flint, but he was pretty sure Flint knew and didn’t care. Either way, he wanted to share like he shared with Maria and Liz even if it was just because he wanted to say “hey look at this thing I got even though Dad said no”. Even though he was kind of unsure about where exactly they stood, this was still an achievement. This was still his. That counted.

“I’ve, uh,” he said, glancing around quickly. There was a table of cheerleaders from his school in the corner, but they were too far to hear. “I’ve kinda been talking to someone.”

“Oh, what? My baby brother is suddenly not such a baby?” Flint teased. Alex smiled and rolled his eyes.

“My not being a baby has nothing to do with having a relationship. I haven’t been a baby for a long time.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe that one day, maybe,” Flint said, “So, tell me about them.”

“It’s not, like, super serious or anything,” Alex said, hesitating just a little as he considered if he was ready to officially come out via pronouns, “But… he’s really nice and smart and I like him a lot. I think you’d like him, he’s got the same rebellious-but-not-really vibe you do.”

“Oh, so you chose someone with the same vibe as me? Glad I showed you what good taste was,” Flint said. Alex laughed. When Arturo brought his tray over, he mouthed his thanks. “Well, is he making you happy? Does he know you have a brother who will kick his ass if he isn’t?”

“He does make me happy, yeah,” Alex promised, “But I’m not telling him your threats.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “Maybe I can tell him myself when I come to see you.”

Alex chewed on his lip for a second. “I don’t know, I’d have to ask him.”

“Well, do that. We’ll even go somewhere outside of Roswell if it makes you two feel a little better.”

“I’ll ask,” Alex repeated, “And, uh, thanks. For being cool.”

“You say that like I’m not the coolest person you know,” Flint said, “Alright, weirdo, I’ll let you eat. Call you later. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alex put his phone down, feeling more confident that he had in a few days. He probably wasn’t actually going to ask Michael. Things were already a little weird and he didn’t want to press, so he’d probably just lie and say Michael wasn’t ready for all that. But, still, it was nice to know that Flint asked. He was interested.

It gave him enough confidence to text Michael first, deciding that it wasn’t too needy to reach out instead of waiting for Michael to do it. He sent a simple hey and then got to his food.

“Hey, Alex,” a sing-songy voice said. Alex looked towards it to see one of the cheerleaders. He furrowed his eyebrows, chewing slower as she sat on the stool beside him. She had never said a word to him before. He didn’t even know her name.

“Uh, hi?”

“Sorry if I’m bothering you, but I wanted to come talk to you. I mean, we’re friends, right?” she said. Alex felt like he was falling into a trap.

“I guess.”

“I just wanted to let you know that when you come to the games, you can sit up front with the rest of the guys’ girlfriends,” she said. Alex kept staring at her with a confused expression. “If you come, I mean. I haven’t seen you at any of the games before.”

“Why would I go to a football game?” Alex asked slowly. She smiled even wider.

“To watch Michael play, silly,” she said, “It’s a part of dating a football player.”

“I’m not dating a football player,” Alex said. And he wasn’t. Or, at least, not that she needed to know. He didn’t owe any of them that knowledge.

“Come on, you can tell me,” she pressed. He just stared. “I’m just letting you know that you’re welcome to sit by us. We can all gossip. We’d love to hear what it’s like to actually date Michael. He’s always been super interested in just really quiet hookups. I guess I can see why.”

“Yeah, well,” Alex said. He still couldn’t quite tell if she was making fun of him or not. The rest of the girls at the table weren’t laughing, but…

“You don’t have to,” she said, flashing the biggest smile it felt like he’d ever seen, “I just wanted you to know that we think it’s super cool we finally have a gay football player. We think you guys are just so cute.”

Alex wondered how many more times he could listen to people call Michael gay when they knew literally nothing about him before he lost it.

“How are we cute when we’re not together?” Alex asked. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“You know what I mean. The whole two separate looks, it’s perfect,” she said. Alex’s phone saved him by going off and Alex immediately gave it his attention.

Michael: i was just thinking about you where are you

Alex: Crashdown

Michael: room for 1 more?

Alex: For you? Always

Michael: 😍

“Is that Michael?” the girl asked, bringing him back to the conversation. He looked at her.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. He didn’t want to be rude. She wasn’t technically being rude. But, still, he wasn’t sure if she was or not. “Thanks for the offer, by the way, but I’m fine. You don’t have to sit with me.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender, “It was nice talking to you.”

“Mhm,” Alex hummed. He spared her a glance as she walked back to her friends and saw them giggling which wasn’t a good sign. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on his food.

Within the next couple minutes, the bell above the door dinged and a warm presence sat close beside Alex. He looked up to see Michael standing beside him. He had on a big smile despite the fact that his eyes had dark circles beneath them. It again had him questioning if something was actually going on and not just him questioning their relationship.

“Hey,” Alex said.

“Hey,” Michael said back, reaching over him to grab a fry from his tray.

“Get your own,” Alex said, unsuccessfully trying to stop him from shoving the fry into his mouth. Michael just smiled as he chewed and Alex was too charmed to be irritated. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Me too, this week has been a lot,” Michael said softly, sitting down on the stool beside him and pulling it close, “But I wanna see you more. What are your plans tonight?”

“I gotta have the car back by 8, but I can sneak out if you wanna come get me,” Alex suggested. Michael nodded.

“Yeah, we can do that,” he said, reaching over to steal more of Alex’s fries. 

“Dude, do you want to order food?” Alex laughed. He shook his head.

“I’ll just eat yours.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stared at him as they ate. Not only did he have dark circles under his eyes, but he was also chewing slow and seeming to zone out just by sitting there. And Alex was beginning to really think that it had nothing to do with their relationship.

“Hey,” Alex said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Michael said.

Alex considered just leaving it. But he left it last time and things had clearly not gotten any better. His eyes drifted over to the girls at the table, noticing that they were not-so-subtly watching them as if they were an exhibit in a zoo. He tried not to let it bother him as he leaned a little closer.

“Seriously, what’s going on? You’re worrying me,” Alex told him quietly. Michael made eye contact with him and gave him that little tiny smile that felt like it was only for him. Maybe it was. “Stop it, tell me. Are you sick or something? Is something going on?” 

“You are my favorite person in the whole world, Alex Manes,” he said. Alex tilted his head in that no-nonsense way that just made Michael smile wider. “I’ve been helping Max fix his car, sorry I didn’t really let you know. It’s been taking up my time. And it’s just been one of those weeks. I’m okay.”

“So you’re not just trying to get rid of me either?” Alex clarified. It was honestly relieving to see that it wasn’t anything too bad. Michael’s eyes widened a little bit.

“No, absolutely not. I want to see you more, this week has sucked without you,” he said, batting those eyelashes, “It’s really hard to sleep well without you anymore.”

“Mm, well, maybe I’ll help you get to some good sleep tonight,” Alex said, a suggestive tone in his voice. Michael grinned, his tongue pressing to the back of his teeth.

“Can I touch you in public or is that a no go?” Michael asked. Alex again found himself looking over to the cheerleaders. “No?”

“They were asking me about us earlier,” Alex said, “Told me I could sit with the other guys’ girlfriends and we could all gossip. And that we’re so cute.”

“I think we’re pretty cute,” Michael told him, still smiling. When Alex didn’t respond right away, it faded. “Were they bothering you?”

“No, I just…” Alex said, trying to find the right words. He didn’t have them. Instead, he thought about his conversation with Flint and how good that felt to just be. To talk and act like there was nothing to even think about. He wanted that. “Yeah, you can touch me.”

“You sure?” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“Nothing too extreme.”

“Obviously, that’s for later,” he said. Alex snorted, but let Michael just move closer and rest his head on his shoulder. He could feel the way his body immediately released some tension. 

He couldn’t wait to get him alone so he could remove the rest.

-

“Michael.”

“Nope, not talking about this with you.”

“Michael! This isn’t just about you! This affects us! Stop fucking avoiding us so you can do what you want!”

Michael sighed, bowing his head. He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes slowly, looking at the engine he was working on. It helped to work with his hands. All the shit he was doing with Eff was too much with his mind and it was nice to just turn it off and use his hands. And, besides, this was the one day it seemed Eff had no interest in doing tests. He planned to just work on this car until Alex could come back over. 

But apparently, he had to still use his brain today.

“What do you want me to say?” Michael asked as he turned to face Max and Isobel. They both looked angry at him. Which was fair. He’d been avoiding them as much as possible. He didn’t want Eff to get any interest in them. They were going to have a future. They weren’t going to end up like him. 

And, besides, he should’ve known this was coming. People were talking about him and Alex. He had no drive to stop them. He had way bigger problems than people gossiping about his love life even if that meant having his siblings find out through someone else.

“Well, first off, why aren’t you talking to us? Did you think we wouldn’t notice?” Isobel asked.

“And are you actually dating Alex? Because what happens when something goes wrong? What happens when he gets hurt?” Max added.

“Or what happens when you get hurt?” Isobel said, “If he breaks up with you or realizes you’re lying to him? Because you are lying to him.”

“And don’t even think about telling him. This isn’t some small little thing, Michael, this is our lives.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Michael asked. He intended for it to have more bite than it actually did. He wanted to be angry with them, but it was hard when they weren’t wrong. Michael was stupid. It was how he ended up being the one caught by Eff. “Look, I’m being safe.”

“Michael,” Isobel said, stepping up to him. She had that concerned look in her eye that made it hard not to listen. “We don’t lie to each other, okay? That’s not something we can do when it’s just the three of us. We were there when you decided to join the football team and I helped you fake all your physicals, you remember? We’re not trying to hold you back. This is something extremely serious.”

“I know it is,” Michael said, “I just… I like him, Isobel. He makes me feel good. I don’t want to give that up just because I’m not human.”

“But we said‒”

“I know what we said,” Michael sighed, looking to Max and then back to Isobel before he closed his eyes, “But, I can promise you, it’s okay. We’re not toxic to them. Nothing has happened to Alex or the girls I’ve slept with. They’re all fine. We don’t have to be alone like this.”

They stared at him, unreadable expressions. He was anticipating them to yell at him and he was prepared to bury himself in a hole until he felt better. But they didn’t yell. They just stared.

“How long have you known?” Max asked. Michael took a deep breath.

“About two years,” he answered honestly. Max scoffed.

“So, what, I kept away from Liz for no reason?” he asked. Michael didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t think he would’ve gone after Liz anyway. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Isobel wondered.

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me for breaking the deal,” Michael admitted, rubbing his eye, “I, I should’ve told you. A while ago. That wasn’t fair of me and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for ignoring you, I’ve been stressed lately and I don’t want to affect you guys.”

“But you still didn’t have an answer for what happens when he realizes you’re lying to him. You can’t tell him what we are,” Max insisted. Michael immediately shook his head.

“I swear, I won’t. You two come first always.”

“Do we? Because It doesn’t sound like it.”

He swallowed harshly, closing his eyes. He thought about the other day when Eff had pricked him with that needle on his wrist and it had triggered waves of power that he couldn’t control that had sent him into a seizure-like state or when he pricked the one on his neck and that same power paralyzed him until he cried, both times immediately followed by Eff bringing him outside to test again. At the moment, it hadn’t seemed like it was that bad. He was still free and still had Alex. He still wouldn’t wish it onto Max and Isobel.

“Trust me,” Michael said, “You come first.”

“This is bullshit, Michael. You’re being stupid,” Max scolded.

“Max,” Isobel said, “Come on, this is good news, isn’t it? We can be normal.”

“Normal,” Max echoed, huffing a laugh, “I can never be normal."

"But, normal enough, right? College, wife, kids, white picket fence?" Michael pointed out, "You can have that. It's safe."

"Since when have you wanted that?" Max scoffed. And Michael didn't want that. It had always sounded boring. But with his current circumstances, that was an unachievable paradise. He wanted Max and Isobel to take it and run with it.

"I don't, but you guys do," he offered lamely.

"You really like Alex that much?" Isobel asked, "That you're finally telling us this?"

"Yeah, I do," Michael said. It wasn't a lie. He did like Alex that much. Just… it wasn't the entire reason. 

"And you're happy?"

Somehow, that felt like a trick question.

"Yes," he said.

"Then we're happy," Isobel said, "Shut up, Max."

Michael wished that was a sign everything would be that easy. That maybe when it came out that he lied to them again about something a million times worse that they wouldn't be angry. He just had to tell himself that.

But, later, when Alex came over again, he still found himself feeling wrong and off. He was wondering if he was always going to feel wrong and off for the rest of his life.

Alex, however, was a nice distraction from the bullshit. He was reading a book for class and Michael had wedged himself between his legs, his knees hooked over his shoulders and his head resting comfortably between his thighs. If he stayed right there, nothing could hurt him.

He breathed slow and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was worth every single mistake. Alex's warm skin against his cheeks, the grounding presence of his feet on his stomach, his hand in his hair, the door and the window locked, and nothing but the sound of the AC and Alex turning pages filling his mind. This was the safest space in the world. He refused to believe differently.

Michael dozed in and out of consciousness, his mind drained and wanting sleep more than he was able to give. He was almost actually asleep until the sky decided to be a bitch and thunder loud enough to wake him up. He slowly dragged his eyes open, his fingers gliding over the unrealistically soft hair on his thigh. He pressed his nose into his skin, breathing him in. Then he pressed his lips there and reveled in the way Alex shifted a little in response. It wasn't until he parted his lips and carefully bit into the sweet skin of his inner thigh that Alex actually reacted. He tightened his legs around him, giving him a little squeeze that was way hotter than it was meant to be.

"Excuse you," Alex scolded, voice soft and a little deeper than usual as if he'd fallen asleep too. It made Michael smile. This really was safe. 

"It's right here in my face, what do you want from me? I only have so much self-control," Michael said. Alex chuckled, his hand taking through his curls before tugging a little.

He spread his legs wider and urged Michael up to move up. Michael complied, laying beside him and accepting the kiss he gave. He didn't want tomorrow to come. Tomorrow meant more Eff, more work, more stress. Today meant this.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Alex asked, "You can say no and I won't be mad even a little."

"What's up?" Michael asked. He couldn't imagine telling Alex no.

"You remember that brother I told you about? He's coming into town," Alex said, not really making eye contact. Michael hummed. "Would you wanna meet him?"

"You want me to meet your brother?" Michael asked. Alex shrugged and nodded.

"It could be fun. He said we could go somewhere outside of Roswell so it won't be too bad," Alex urged, "You can say no."

Michael stared at him and weighed his options. He didn't mind saying yes. If it was before he ran into Eff, he would've said yes in a heartbeat. But now things were a little different and he didn't want to make such important plans when he had no idea when he would steal him for the evening.

"Um, can I say yes but pull out if I need to?" Michael asked. Alex eyed him but nodded slowly. 

"You really can just say no."

"I want to go, though. Things have just been weird lately and something might come up. I'll let you know if it does, though," Michael said.

"Like what?" Alex asked.

"Like if Sanders needs me to help him or Isobel needs me to come get her. I'm surrounded by needy people lately and it's making it really hard for me to be needy towards you," Michael teased. Alex smiled and reached out, touching his cheek softly.

"Okay, whatever works," he said, "He just wants to meet you."

"And I want to meet him," Michael promised, "But, uh, does this mean you're my boyfriend? 'Cause this feels awfully official."

Alex grinned and rolled his eyes, pushing himself into Michael for a long kiss. Michael pulled him even closer.

It was the nicest yes he'd ever gotten.

[somuchcolour]

WIP fic rec list

So I have a shit ton of important things to do so I was like, so what better time to make a WIP rec list of fics that are currently (hopefully) updating.

I know wips get a bad rap but I personally enjoy feeling like I’m in 1830s paris waiting for the next chapter of illusions perdues to drop. Also these authors are giving us sweet sweet entertainment and they deserve the hype. All stories deserve love no matter their completion status.

In no particular order:

A Brief History of Sex by Letzi

Never let it be said that Castiel Novak is not a passionate man. He doesn’t seem like he is at first glance, he’s willing to admit that. But what he does in life, everything that he does, in fact, in life, has been in the pursuit of passion.

He’s not sure how it landed him night after night sitting inside a cramped closet in a brothel’s bedroom, watching a prostitute get fucked from behind by one of her clients through a peephole, but that’s where he finds himself these days.

He has to make do with what he has.

--

ABO AU based on the TV Show Masters of Sex and the life and work of Virginia Johnson and William Masters, the pioneers of sex therapy.

A Priori by K_K_TiBal, whelvenwings   

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are headed to Hogwarts.

Castiel, as a member of the old Novak wizarding family, is fully expected to be sorted into Ravenclaw, like all of his ancestors before him. Dean, as a Muggle-born, has no idea what the Houses even are. With a surprise sorting and classes starting soon afterwards, they're both pitched headfirst into the unknown - and they find themselves in competition with each other almost at once, both of them needing to prove themselves to the people they left at home, and the people with them at Hogwarts.

Over the course of their seven years at Hogwarts, Dean and Cas learn what it means to prove yourself, what it takes to discover who you are, what it feels like to fall in love, and what it is they'll fight for - what matters most of all.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion by ForeverShippingJohnlock    

Castiel Novak is a zombie. Or rather, a "partially deceased syndrome sufferer." Treated and on medication, Castiel is deemed fit to return to living society. Whether society is ready to accept him or not is another matter entirely.

Dean Winchester is an active member of the Human Volunteer Force, a group determined to eliminate the undead. With his father as the leader of the HVF, Dean has spent years learning that PDS sufferers are scum, treated or not, and Dean wants nothing more than to make his dad proud.

Against all odds, the two boys form an unlikely friendship that makes Dean question everything he knows and believes, while Castiel thinks that maybe his second life isn't such a curse after all.

A story of love and loss, life and death, and everything in between.

Beyond Our Waking Eyes by abbythebollix    

Dean Winchester is troubled, Sam Winchester is growing up and Castiel Milton is too fucking hot for his own good.

Cupid's Fiery Shaft by ChasingRabbits               

When Gabriel Milton is forced into working on the school's annual Shakespeare play, he finds himself drawn to one person in particular--a techie named Sam Winchester.

While waiting on numerous universities to dictate the next major step in his life, Sam has been blowing off steam with his friend, lab partner, and (unknowingly) Gabriel's stepbrother, Castiel Novak.

Castiel Novak: a swimmer and one of the school's resident oddballs, who finds himself in a quandary upon meeting Sam's older brother, Dean.

Dean Winchester: gruff-voiced automechanic by day and culinary genius/MegaNerd by night, who might not be as heterosexual as he lets everybody believe.

If it sounds complicated, that's only because it is.

Now That's Comedy by CaptainMercy42     

Comedy. It's what Winchester's did. Winchester's, and about a million other dumb fucks with an iPhone and 140 character witticisms about their first world problems. It was not supposed to bug him when no-talent "wordsmiths" got highlighted in a bit on Ellen or Bob and Tom. But it did.

His dad, well he was great at it. It was dark comedy. It came from a dark place; the loss of a wife and the life of a morally bankrupt single dad, almost innocent in how thoroughly unprepared he was for fatherhood.  Substance abuse in itself provided jokes for days. The material actually outlasted his dear old dad. This surprised no one. What was surprising was Sam's decision to ditch college and do his own act, despite his lingering bitterness.

The first night Dean saw Sam perform was also the first night Dean saw Castiel perform.

Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by linoresearch   

The year is 1722 and across the oceans merchant ships are hounded by pirates. Killing and stealing their way to infamy, the Winchesters plague the trade-routes to the New World, leaving a trail of death and devastation across the Spanish Main. They are villains, and every ship that sails under the colours of the Royal Navy has been tasked with bringing them to justice; sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.

When the lookout of the navy frigate, the Lady Mary, calls ship-ahoy from the crow’s nest, first-mate Lieutenant Castiel Novak has no idea how his life is about to change. In a swash-buckling adventure across the high-seas, Castiel faces sea-monsters, ghost-ships, and much more, in the race to secure a valuable and dangerous prize. Thrown in among the pirates aboard the Black Impala, he also learns that Captain Dean Winchester can be hard to resist.

Number 1 Crush by Duckyboos                

Dean, Benny, Charlie, Garth, and Cas are old college buddies. In their thirties now, they meet up once a year to shed their adult responsibilities for a week. This year it's Garth's turn to choose where they go and he's still as obsessed with horror and weird shit as he was back in college. He ends up picking a supposedly deserted hotel in the friggin' mountains. The place is creepy as hell and as night falls, two things become increasingly apparent. One: the place isn’t as deserted as they first thought, and two: Dean’s college stalker is back from the dead.

Dial 'M' For Monster by Duckyboos    

By day, Dean Winchester bakes cupcakes. He owns his own bakery (Stairway to Leaven) and people come from all over state to try his delicious vegan red velvet. By night, he’s a fighter of supernatural evil.

Castiel Novak owns the small town's only motel (The Resting Place). He has a problem; he thinks rooms 6 & 11 are haunted.  It’s not like he can just look up a local ghost hunter in the phone book though, now is it?

Oh, he can? Sweet.

All The Other Places by Englandwouldfall                

As is usually the way with this crap, nothing is that simple. Part 4 of Beach House       

Shades of Mediocrity by Englandwouldfall               

Dean needs to rearrange his life all over again, regroup, restart and work out what the hell to do next.Castiel needs to learn where to channel his heart break, among other things.   Part 4 of Home            

The Taming of the Dudes by Englandwouldfall  

They've been doing this long enough and successfully enough that Dean kind of feels they shouldn't be arguing over something as serious as the mortgage. Part 5 of As you like it       

Two and a Half Sheets to the Wind by Englandwouldfall        

The whole point of working on a cruise ship was to escape everything, so the last thing he needs is to run into a guy who makes him a little too honest on the first day of a month long stint around Europe.

With Interest by everandanon     

In which sought-after bad boy Castiel Novak agrees to make awkward, nerdy sophomore Dean Winchester fall in love with him for a bet, and quickly finds himself in over his head — but by the time he realizes his mistake, it’s too little, too late . . .

Fast-forward 11 years, and as guilty as Cas still feels, he has bigger problems to deal with. Grieving his twin brother and struggling to provide the care his niece deserves, Cas finally sucks it up and moves back home in an effort to hold things together.

Of course, it's only a matter of time before he runs into Dean - Dean, who's all grown up and even more beautiful than Cas always suspected he'd be. Dean, who says he wants to be friends, and is clearly much better at a game Cas hasn't played since he broke Dean's heart.

Dean, who might not be the forgive-and-forget type, after all . . .

Quarantension by everandanon  

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.** *Really not platonic **Spoiler: They need a lot.

Fortress by imogenbynight         

Five years ago, a malignant mass removed from John Winchester's temporal lobe left behind a quietly ticking bomb that nobody noticed until it decimated everything. Five years ago, John dragged Dean away from everything he'd ever known, hellbent on rescuing him from an imagined threat that felt more real to him than the blood on his hands. Five years ago, Castiel let Dean's hand slip through his fingers as he rescued Sam from what he'd thought was a more immediate threat.

For five years, Castiel has wondered if there was some way he could have saved Dean, too.

Now, with a phone call that he'd all but given up hoping for, Castiel has a chance to try again.

It's Kind of a Funny Story by deathsteel    

After an aborted suicide attempt lands Castiel Shurley in the hospital, he meets Dean Winchester, a charming damaged young man who is much more than first meets the eye.  Not being able to deal with the stress of growing up may have gotten him here and being hopelessly in love with his best friend's girlfriend probably didn't help, but Castiel soon learns that sometimes it takes  going a little crazy to find the path you were always meant to be on.

Loosely based on the movie/book by Ned Vizzini 'It's Kind of a Funny Story'.

Just A Schoolboy Crush by Zombiecat    

Castiel has a cliche crush on the highschool football all-star, Michael Ashton. Even though he's fully aware he's doomed to longing looks and pining in silence, it wouldn't be so bad if his best friend, Charlie, hadn't told Dean. Dean Winchester never seemed to miss a chance to get under his skin but for some reason he starts acting odd when he hears about Castiel's big secret.

God, Make Small by komodobits               

The last plane into McMurdo before the six-month winter brings a new face, an astronomer on transfer from one of the inland observatories. Truthfully, Dean doesn't know shit about neutrino particles; he's just the guy who gets paid to move the equipment from A to B and tries to keep it from getting broken and/or frozen solid. Castiel Novak's awkward, endearing smile is an additional bonus. However, the relentless blue night is brewing coldly for a storm, and it's starting to look like Dean and Castiel might be the only ones left out on the ice.\

Legacies by vanishingact    

Castiel Milton's uneventful life as a Massachusetts lawyer gets a little strange in the fall of 1887 when he is assigned to handle the late Henry Winchester's estate and his client's distractingly handsome grandson arrives to take up residence in the old manor house. As an unlikely friendship (with a side of pining) develops, the house slowly coughs up its secrets and reveals a whole world of trouble that Dean never knew his grandfather kept hidden.

The Game of God by seperis           

You can't win a war for humanity by sacrificing all of your own. Part 4 of Down to Agincourt        

Sequins and Spirals by euphemology  

Dean Winchester is a world-renowned figure skater who hails from the “good old U.S. of A.” He is well on his way to the 2014 Winter Olympics, but there’s one small problem: so is his arch-rival, Polish skater Castiel Novak. Competition is definitely not going to be easy, but it gets even harder when the two men get assigned to the same room in the Olympic Village.

Show Me How To Love by universalromance    

A new family of kids at Lawrence High School brings a new perspective to Dean's life, especially when he becomes inexplicably drawn to the youngest of the siblings, a severely autistic boy who has never spoken or touched anybody in his entire life. Rating will possibly go up later. Possibly upsetting psychological subject matter.

The Process by Soupernabturel           

“Dean, hands to yourself please.”

The man in question straightens up in his chair, turns his flirty smile from the man two seats from him and onto officer Novak. “Sorry, Cas.”

“Cas?” Hannah asks.

“We get some regulars. They come to know a few of the officers, the patrol officers, especially.” Novak explains, the look on his face, almost slightly bored, slips a little. “As you know, I’m usually the one monitoring the Strip.”

 Police!Officer Cas is being filmed at work (A-la: Jail Las Vegas) for a reality TV show. Meanwhile Dean is a sex worker, not only familiar with the Strip’s booking process, but with a certain blue-eyed officer.

Start With a Name by cumberbellins, frickenapplepie (cumberbellins)    

Waking up in a stranger's living room with a blue eyed man staring down at you isn't the most pleasant experience ever. Dean Winchester can tell you that. Another thing Dean Winchester can tell you is that whenever you have to break into your brother's apartment, you should make sure that you got the right window.

starving in your gravity by alullabytoleaveby   

Dean has enough on his plate. Really.

There's his job as a paramedic for the local hospital and, while he loves it, loves getting to help people, the hours are long and the pay leaves much to be desired. There's his definitely-not-a-relationship with Castiel, the hot ER doctor, where's he's completely out of his depth emotionally. And then there's his brother, who's just dropped out of law school and has no idea what he's going to do now.

So what he definitely does not need is his alcoholic deadbeat dad stumbling back into his life.

Make Damn Sure by SurlyCat      

Dean Winchester is not thrilled about taking an office job at one the most powerful media corporations in the country. His work has always been hands on, but when Charlie tells him about the job opening and its comfortable salary, the temptation is just too great to turn down. And really, it wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the blue-eyed man that also works there.

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have crossed paths far too often over the last 12 years, with an unsavory outcome nearly every time. This time though, walking away is just not an option as they're forced to collaborate on a project and learn to navigate each other like civilized human beings. For Dean and Cas though, nothing ever goes quite according to plan.

...In Bed by SurlyCat                

Dean Winchester and Castiel Milton met on a rainy summer day over a broken down car. Even though Castiel is nosy and seems to have no filter, Dean still finds himself drawn to the man. Over time they become friends, and over time, Dean falls for Cas, certain that Cas is uninterested. What Dean doesn't know is that his friend hasn't always been quite so tame, and Cas is careful to keep it that way. Who would've thought that a fortune cookie and a childish game would be responsible for bringing out the truth?

Tag, You're It! by Kitmistry   

Five months after the case that almost claimed their lives, what started as blowing off some steam during a high-pressure situation and continued as a mutually-beneficial arrangement is getting out of Special Agent Castiel Novak’s control. Falling in love with his partner is doomed to end in disaster, especially when said partner is Special Agent Dean Winchester—cocky, infuriating, and the biggest playboy Castiel has ever met.

Still on medical leave, Dean is bored out of his mind, and worst of all - once Castiel gets sucked into the investigation of a new case - without enough distractions from his inner demons. When he stumbles upon a small, seemingly risk-free case, Dean jumps at the chance to get involved, but the lies he has to tell could be catastrophic for the already shaky foundations of his relationship with Castiel.

With a new threat trying to take over the underworld of DC, Castiel and Dean have to find a way to work past their problems or risk losing each other forever.

Part 2 of The H Files       

The Supernatural Edification of Dean Winchester by OverlordoftheBees   

Based on TV Series “Afterlife”. Professor Castiel Novak (MA Berkeley, PhD Harvard) is an academic who has staked his credibility upon his ability to decompress and deconstruct the mythology surrounding mediums, clairvoyants and all things "new age spiritualist". That is, until a routine trip with a graduate class brings him into contact with medium Dean Winchester: uniquely gifted, supremely abrasive and desperate for a way out. When Dean touches on the tragedy marring Castiel’s past, his neatly constructed worldview is decimated. There is only a veil between life and death, as both well know. And as Castiel finds himself increasingly drawn to Dean, the fragility of that barrier is strained to its limit.

These Are the Nights by vintagenoise         

After a sudden tragedy, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester reflect back on their youth in the beachside town of Sileas, Oregon, and all the lessons they learned on the path that led them to each other.In the Winter of 2008, Castiel visits his boyfriend, Dean, for Christmas. Despite all the big issues he and Dean have dealt with in the past, they've never had the chance to sort through the little things. Castiel is sure that their plans, from embarking on a road trip together, to spending time with the Winchesters, can only be good for their relationship. There's just one little problem that needs to finally be confronted: sex, and Castiel's difficulty with it.In the Summer of 2009, Dean and Sam visit their estranged father and his new family, who reluctantly allow Castiel to visit through Independence Day. All Dean wants is for his family and his boyfriend to get along, but between John's struggle to accept his son's sexuality, and his wife Kate's strange attitude towards Castiel, he's not sure he'll be able to make it work. Part 7 of Young Volcanoes                

[livingdeadinsideyourhead]

Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

[completemalum]

You're My Favorite Place

Or alternatively, Four Times Calum Almost Kissed Michael and One Time He Did.

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Rating: Everyone

A/N: This oneshot is basically a collection of mini stories that all kind of connect to each other. Title based off Favorite Place by All Time Low.

2006, Age 10

It was another Michael and Calum Weekend Sleepover, and Michael had woken up crying due to one of his night terrors. Calum was currently cuddling Michael with Michael's face buried into Calum's neck. It wasn't unusual for them to cuddle like this. They usually ended up forgoing their sleeping bags and sharing a bed together. Plus, they were best friends. They saw nothing wrong with sharing a bed. But for some reason, this felt...different to Calum. Calum was no strangers to Michael's night terrors and was always willing to help calm him down. But for some reason, this time he felt like he needed to protect Michael. Which was weird, as Calum was scrawnier and quieter than Michael and Michael was pretty much Calum's bodyguard. And with the way Michael's hand was bunching up Calum's shirt and his nose pressed against Calum's neck, he had a strong urge to kiss Michael. But he told himself no, boys can't kiss other boys. And boys especially can't kiss their best friends. Plus, he liked girls...right? At that moment he wasn't quite sure if he had ever had a crush on a girl. But he didn't want to spend all night contemplating if he liked girls or not. What mattered was that he was there, with Michael. He opted for a quick kiss on the top of Michael's head once he was sure Michael had fallen asleep and cuddled close to him before falling asleep himself.

2008, Age 12

Calum knew two things: 1. He had a huge crush on Michael. And 2. He was bisexual. He learned the term "bisexual" after his older sister, Mali, came out to him about her secret girlfriend. And honestly, he was very comfortable with that label and quite proud about figuring out his sexuality. But of course, Michael didn't know. He couldn't know. Calum was so scared that him telling Michael that he likes boys would scare Michael off because what if Michael somehow found out about Calum's crush on him and didn't want to be friends anymore?? Calum couldn't bear the thought of that. So he kept his thoughts to himself, occasionally sneaking glances at Michael and smiling at the way Michael stuck his tongue out in concentration whenever they played video games together.

Calum was yanked out of his thoughts when Michael announced "It's hot in here, can we go watch TV downstairs or something?"

Calum shrugged "We could go outside and play football."

"Noooo, playing football with you isn't fair, you always win!" Michael whined, flinging himself dramatically onto Calum's bed.

"Now you know how I feel playing racing games with you." Calum retorted with a grin

"Fiiiine." Michael groaned as he got off the bed. Calum grinned and followed Michael downstairs, grabbing the football by the door before stepping into the backyard. "Same goal spots as usual?" Michael asked

Calum nodded and put the football on the ground, gently kicking it with his foot. "Same goals." He grinned before taking off with the ball towards the goal.

"Hey! No fair!" Michael yelled, chasing after Calum. Calum laughed as Michael started catching up with him. But Michael, being clumsy as he was, tripped over his own foot, sending him and Calum tumbling. When they landed, Michael had Calum pinned to the ground. Michael grinned at Calum "Totally meant to do that."

The thought of leaning up and kissing Michael crossed Calum's mind, and he blushed before quickly pushing the thought out of his head. "Uh, let's go inside and grab a snack." Calum hoped Michael wouldn't notice that they only played football for like two minutes.

Luckily, he didn't notice, as he shrugged and said "Okay." Before climbing off Calum and heading inside. Calum groaned softly to himself before following Michael in. Having a secret crush on your best friend is hard.

2011, Age 15

The band 5 Seconds of Summer was officially together, and while they were just a small YouTube channel with a couple hundred subscribers, they were happy to be doing what they were doing. They were about to start band practice at Michael's house. Calum was the first person there as usual, sat in the basement where they rehearsed tuning his bass. Michael came downstairs to join Calum, nervously picking at his nails. Calum looked up and noticed Michael's anxious habit. "You only pick at your nails when you're nervous. Are you okay?" He asked gently.

Michael nodded as he joined Calum on the couch "It's just...I need to tell you something. But you can't tell anyone. Not even Luke and Ashton. I'm not ready to tell them yet." Calum nodded with concern on his face but gestured for Michael to continue. Michael took a deep breath. "I think I'm gay. I've known for a while now...I just finally came to terms with it recently and I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I just...really hope this doesn't change things between us. I don't want to lose my friend because I like boys." Calum felt his heart leap with joy. He had a chance. Maybe. Michael liked boys so it's a start at least.

He put his hand on Michael's arm "Mike...nothing could change between us. You're my best friend and it'd be dumb if I didn't want to be friends with you anymore because you like boys. I'm really happy for you, thank you for telling me." Calum saw relief wash over Michael's face and he gave Michael's arm a comforting squeeze. God, how bad he wanted to kiss Michael right then. He opened his mouth to give Michael his own confession but right then Luke and Ashton came barreling down the stairs, arguing over some new video game. Calum squeezed Michael's hand before getting off the couch and grabbing his bass. How he wished he had the courage to tell Michael how he felt.

2015, Age 19

Michael was hurt. Bad. A fire cannon had malfunctioned during one of their shows and hit Michael in the face, catching his hair on fire and burning the left side of his face. Calum had gotten burned too while trying to help Michael, but once they were at the hospital he had insisted he was fine, so they put some cream on his arm to soothe the burn and wrapped it up. Ashton was outside making phone calls and Luke went downstairs to the cafeteria to get food. Calum had told Luke that he wasn't hungry and wanted to stay with Michael. Him and Michael sat in comfortable silence for a while before Michael spoke up.

"Cal?" He asked. Calum looked up and his heart broke. Michael's lip was quivering and tears were gathering in his eyes. "What if I have a scar on my face because of this? What if people think I'm ugly?" His voice shook as tears fell from his eyes.

"Mikey..." Calum said softly, standing up to sit on the bed. He put his hand on Michael's cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb "You could never be ugly. Not to me, at least." Michael smiled softly, leaning into Calum's touch.

"Thank you for being here with me. And holding my hand on our way here. You're the only person able to keep my grounded."

Calum smiled and intertwined his and Michael's fingers and kissed his hand "I'd do anything for you." He still hadn't confessed his feelings to Michael yet, but he had become bolder with his physical affection for Michael and he knew Michael wouldn't think anything of the hand kiss. Before either of them could say anything, Luke came back with food, causing them to part. Calum cast one more longing glance at Michael before helping Luke get the food out.

2018, Age 22

5SOS was in the process of finishing up their 3rd album, Youngblood. They only had a few songs left to record and were recording the song "Why Don't You Love Me" and Michael was singing his solo in the song. All four of them were in the studio that day, but Calum was watching Michael for most of it. But he could've sworn that Michael was staring at him for most of his solo. After Michael finished, their producer suggested they take a break to get lunch. They all started to file out of the room, but Calum gently grabbed Michael's arm to stop him. He shoved his hands in his pockets before saying "Who's the song about, Mike?"

Michael looked taken aback "I-I don't know what you mean..."

Calum scoffed "I know you better than that. Every song you write involves some aspect of your life. You dont just casually write a song like that. And I noticed you glancing over at us. So, who's the lucky guy?"

Michael dropped his head and said in a voice that Calum almost didn't hear "You."

Calum's heart stopped "What?"

Michael sighed and lifted his head "The song is about you. I've been in love with you since we were 16. I wrote this song a few years ago. I'd hoped getting my feelings out would help me get over you, but-"

Michael was interrupted by Calum lunging forward and pressing his lips to Michael's. Michael made a noise of surprise before kissing back. The kiss was desperate and filled with years of unspoken words. Calum's fingers were tangled in Michael's hair and Michael was desperately gripping Calum's shirt. Calum didn't want to pull away, but he finally did when he needed to breathe. He rested his forehead against Michael's as they both panted, trying to catch their breath. After a few minutes, Calum whispered "I've dreamt of kissing you every night for ten years." Michael smiled and rubbed Calum's sides before whispering "I love you, Hood."

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Welcome to Oblivion-Ch. 31

Chapter 31

           Sonya looked me over as I rolled out of bed. The spring semester had started a week ago, and I was still getting back into the swing of a functional schedule. My roommate grinned and pushed her ever-present box of donuts toward me.

           “Morning, sleepy head,” she said as she pulled on her shoes. “You’ve got twenty minutes before your first class starts.”

           It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then, I sat bolt upright and scrubbed my hands over my face. “Shit,” I groaned, stumbling toward the bathroom. My first class was on the far side of campus. It took fifteen minutes to get there on a good day.

           “Oh,” Sonya added as she shrugged into a warm jacket. “It’s snowing.”

           In the next moment, she had her bag and had already slipped out of the room. I growled and shoved into the bathroom. Thank goodness Dana and Ember weren’t taking up counter space.

           “That’s it,” I said to my reflection. “I have to stop going over to the boys’ place during the week.”

           My thoughts raced as I ran a brush through my hair and brushed my teeth. They were a rush and jumble of the memories and moments that I’d lived during the break. The drive back to see my parents for Christmas. Slipping and sliding in the snow with Dean. Driving up the mountain in the warmth of Roman’s truck. Watching the ball drop on the sofa smushed between the two of them, Seth hovering in the background like a shadow.

           I tugged on some jeans and a warm grey thermal shirt. Thick socks and my best pair of boots. I slipped Roman’s worn Pirate’s hoodie on and snatched up my backpack. I only barely thought to check for my key before I slammed the door shut behind me.

           “There you are,” Drew called from the other end of the hallway. His accent seemed thicker since he’d come back from Scotland. I liked the way it sounded. For some reason, it made me think of home. “Where’ve you been hiding, lass?”

           I smiled, even though my heart was racing with anxiety. “New semester business, McIntyre. And I’m going to be late for class.”

           He fell into step beside me, his loping pace matching mine. “What class?”

           “Philosophy of Religion with Professor Michaels.”

           “Shit. In Hardy Hall?”

           I nodded. “Even if I ran, I’d never make it on time. This is a great way to start the semester.” We were at the steps that lead up the hill toward north campus. I rolled my eyes and grunted. “I’m blaming all of it on Ro and Dean.”

           Drew looked up the steep stairway and grinned. “Of course you wouldn’t make it. Your legs are too short. Come on.”

           He turned and snatched me up onto his back. I tried to protest, but he wouldn’t listen. He just rumbled with laughter and took the steps two at a time. “Drew! Put me down!”

           What felt like half a second later, he deposited me back on my feet at the top of the stairs. “Cut through the basement level of Andre Hall, make a left onto the skybridge into Piper Hall. Down the stairs on the right and you’ll come out right behind Hardy. Walk fast, lass.”

           Drew grinned and gave me a gentle push in the shoulder. I grinned back and took off across the icy sidewalk.

***

           The snow continued into the early afternoon, the flurries turning into fat flakes that drifted down and settled into piles and mounds along the ground. I picked my way along the sidewalk and slipped into the student center, shaking snow out of my hair. The ground floor was packed with people, practically every seat filled with students and staff desperate for some warmth and a refuge from the snow drifting down outside.

           I fell into the line in the coffee shop as I checked my watch. It was just after one in the afternoon, and I was free for a few hours before I had to tramp over to the Cove for practice. My knee ached faintly from the cold and the walking. I wondered what Coach Helmsley would say if I dropped out of practice for today. Football season was over. Competition season didn’t pick up until the end of February.

           Keeping one eye on the line, I dug my phone out of my pocket and opened my email. I tapped out a quick message to Coach Helmsley and sighed in relief that I would be able to go back to my room, take a hot shower, and then crash in my bed with a heat pack on my knee.

           “Hey, Addy,” said a familiar voice. I looked up to see Seth behind the counter. He grinned. “What’ll it be?”

           It took me a moment to realize that this was his job, working in the school coffee shop. Of course, it shouldn’t surprise me the way that he chugged caffeine as if it were oxygen. I looked up at the menu and frowned.

           “You know what, I’ve got just the thing,” he said with a wink. He grabbed a cup and started bustling around behind the hot bar, mixing up a coffee like it was a chemistry experiment. I watched, trying to keep track of everything he used. But it was so involved that it was nearly impossible to keep up.

           A few moments later, he slid the cup across the counter. “Give it a try,” he said, looking sheepish and innocently hopeful. I held the cup with both hands, letting the warmth sink into my skin. I blew across the top of the liquid before taking a small sip. Heat and sugar and caffeine spilled into me in the perfect mix. I grinned. “You like it?”

           I felt my whole body relax. “This is heaven in a cup, Rollins. You’ll have to teach me how to make it.”

           He grinned broader and I could have sworn that he blushed. “Can’t do that, Ads. If you know the secret, you’ll won’t come back again.”

           I leaned against the counter, oblivious to the line piling up behind me. “I doubt it. Seems like there’s more reasons for me to come by more often.” I felt the heat rush into my cheeks as I dug out my ID card. I cleared my throat. “How much?”

           Seth smiled, showing off a slight gap in his front teeth. His brown eyes were bright as he waved his hand dismissively. “It’s on me.”

           I smiled sheepishly and ducked my head. “Thanks, Seth,” I replied, stuffing the card back into my pocket. “Hey, tell Ro and Dean that I’ll be over Friday night. No more weeknights hanging out with you guys. I almost missed my first class this morning. Again.”

           He nodded, glancing sideways to check the line. He sighed and stepped back toward the register. “I’ll let them know. Dean’ll be crushed.”

           I backed away, holding the coffee as if it was a precious. “He’ll get over it. See you this weekend!”

           I climbed the stairs to the second floor. The cafeteria was packed with people and the scent of food drifted out every time someone opened the doors. I peered through the glass walls, trying to find Roman’s dark hair or Dean’s black beanie. When I couldn’t find either one of them, I took another flight of stairs up to the top floor of the student center. A row of tables lined the edge of the balcony—two tops that were cluttered with textbooks, laptops, lunch wrappers. I passed by, all of them taken. There were a few study rooms that overlooked the courtyard, and luckily one of them was open.

           It was one of the ones with one wall made of nothing but windows. I pulled the table as far from the window as I could, and tucked myself into the corner. It only took a moment to spread out my books and my laptop, the coffee Seth made sitting close by. Only a week into the semester, and I was already drowning in homework.

***

           “Hey,” Seth said from the doorway of the study room. “You found my hideaway.”

           I looked around, slightly bewildered. I’d lost track of time reading and working on a paper for English. “Sorry,” I replied, grabbing at my books and papers and starting to shove them into my backpack. “I’ll head out.”

           “Nah,” he said as he tossed his bag on the table and sank down in a chair right across from me. “Not many people use this room, so I come here after work. I can get more things done here than I can at home.”

           I grinned softly, thinking about Roman and Dean. My body filled with warmth at the thought of them. “Yeah, I can see how difficult it would be to focus with Dean around.”

           “Put the two of us together and we go nuts,” Seth added with a chuckle. “I’m surprised Roman’s put up with us as long as he has.”

           “You guys are his brothers,” I replied, pulling a stack of notes from my bag. “So… too bad we don’t have a class together this semester.”

           Seth’s brown eyes went slightly sad. “Yeah, I had to track my major. Business classes suck.”

           I laughed quietly. “Then why are you a business major?”

           “I want to open my own business someday. A coffee shop maybe.”

           “Well,” I picked up the now empty cup from earlier, “if it all tastes like this, you’ll make a killing.”

           “Thanks, Addy,” Seth whispered. “That means a lot.”

           He smiled and dipped his head toward his laptop.

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