#foramomentonly writes

[foramomentonly]

For Auld Lang Syne

This little scene has been floating in my head since New Year’s. I’m new to the Malex fandom and my writing is rusty (clearly). I hope you enjoy! 

Read on AO3

Michael shuffles out of Isobel’s guest room on New Year’s Day and pads groggily downstairs, following the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The good stuff. He expects to find Isobel sipping coffee at the kitchen table, her casual, but effortlessly chic look perfectly curated to shame the rest of their disheveled, hungover asses. Isobel had invited everyone over for a quiet, elegant New Year’s Eve soriee. He and Liz—perfectly matched partners in mayhem as well as in scientific research and discovery, as it turns out—had turned it into a drunken rager. Secrets were revealed, grievances were aired, but they’d somehow rung in the New Year with arms draped heavily on shoulders, sloppy cheek kisses, and even sloppier declarations of eternal love.

Which is why Michael is surprised to walk into Isobel’s unexpectedly cozy kitchen to find Alex standing at the sink, elbow-deep in sudsy water, drying rack beside him half-full of Isobel’s boho dish set.

Alex glances over his shoulder at Michael’s soft oh! and smiles at him.

Defying the expectations of their friends, they had avoided a drunken throwdown the night before, chatting casually, if briefly throughout the night. They’ve already torn into one another a hundred times over, fueled on occasion by alcohol. They’ve used words like teeth to gnaw at old wounds and tear apart tender flesh. Their truths still float unspoken between them, but time and proximity have taught them how to treat each other like there might just be a tomorrow after all.

“Hey,” Alex says easily. “Sleep well?��

Michael smiles in return, moving farther into the kitchen.

“Ugh, did anybody?” He points to the half-empty carafe of rich, dark liquid on the table. “You make that?”

Alex nods.

“You still make coffee stronger than jet fuel?”

Alex shoots him a devilish grin and nods again.

“Bless you,” Michael sighs, pressing his palms together and half bowing toward Alex. He grabs a mug and pulls the nearest chair out with his mind, dropping heavily into it and pouring himself a cup. They’re both silent for a few minutes, Michael guzzling his coffee and Alex scrubbing a particularly crusty serving platter.

“You trying to avoid Isobel’s wrath?” Michael finally asks, gesturing towards Alex’s work with his now half-empty cup. Alex huffs a laugh.

“I just thought I’d make clean up a little easier for her and load the dishwasher,” he says. “Turns out she has no dishwasher, and ninety percent of her stuff isn’t dishwasher safe anyway.”

He shrugs as best he can while rinsing out a champagne flute.

“Yeah, she used to have one,” Michael replies. “A dishwasher, I mean. But me and Max and fucking Noah kept putting her fancy dishes in it, so she made me take it out and install a custom wine fridge.”

Alex laughs, and Michael smiles at the sound. He drains his cup and rises, moving to stand next to Alex at the sink. 

“Here,” he says. “I’ll dry. I know where everything goes, anyway.” 

Alex hums in response, reaching to take Michael’s dirty mug out of his hands.

“Never thought of you as the domestic type,” he teases. Michael shrugs, a little self conscious.

“I like to cook, actually,” he says. “No room to in the Airstream and Isobel can’t cook for shit, so she lets me use her kitchen.”

“Did you make the food we ate last night?” Alex asks, hesitant.

“Fuck, no,” Michael snorts. “I like comfort food. Isobel had the thing last night catered.”

Alex sighs in what Michael interprets as relief. He remembers Alex picking politely at his plate at dinner, but mostly eating a lot of rolls.

“I was actually thinking of asking Liz’s dad if he needs some help at the diner,” Michael admits, eyes fixed on the plate he’s drying. He feels more than sees Alex turn towards him. “It’s been slow at the junkyard and I’ve had way too much time on my hands to fall back into, uh, bad habits.”

Alex has been the unwitting witness of Michael’s bad habits, scraping him off the floor of The Wild Pony or fielding phone calls and voicemails that prick like barbed wire and leave a million tiny cuts. He’s also been the impetus of of them, on days when dark shadows cloud his brain and he can’t seem to see or care who’s reaching out to him.

“I think that’s really great,” Alex says softly. “You should mention it to Liz. Let her work on Arturo a little before you go in.”

“Yeah, I will,” Michael says, shelving the final plate as Alex drains the sink. Without the easy routine of a shared task, they stand awkwardly together, the silence heavy between them.

“I’m, uh, I’m starting therapy next week at the VA,” Alex says, offering a piece of his own vulnerability to Michael in a hesitant exchange.

“Yeah?” Michael asks. “Well, look at us.”

And it’s not midnight, it’s not even close to fixed between them, but like lost parts of a whole, like the pieces of Michael’s incomplete ship they slide together, warm lips pressing lightly, then more insistently as mouths open and small breathes of pleasure escape. The kiss is slow and easy, full of later, soon, tomorrow. They pull apart, step back easily, and offer soft smiles.

“Happy New Year, Guerin.”

“Happy New Year, Private.”

[lambourngb]

Fanfic first sentence: "I hate surprises."

Sequel to this

“I hate surprises. I didn’t know you were here,” Alex replied quietly, before looking around the empty bar. “I didn’t see your truck outside either.”

“I loaned it to Rosa, she wanted to pick up some supplies for a new project, and they won’t fit in Arturo’s hatchback.” Michael rubbed his sweaty palm against his jeans and shifted awkwardly in place. He was forcefully reminded that this was the first time they had been alone together since Alex had started dating in earnest. There had been buffers before in their public interactions, Isobel, Rosa, Maria, even his sad sack of a brother Max had done his best to keep conversations light and friendly. “I have no idea what she has planned, but whatever it is called for a couple of floor to ceiling canvases from Albuquerque that would only fit in my truck bed. So yeah, she dropped me here.”

The mention of Rosa pushed away the closed wariness, and Alex finally cracked a small smile. “That was nice of you.”

“Well, I promised Liz I would look after her, while she’s ...away.” Alex’s smile broadened at his explanation, causing a new awkward warmth to heat Michael’s face. He would have rather faced the guarded look from Alex than this proud, light expression. It was doing things to his heart, dangerous things, like beating on a closed door inside him. “It’s no big deal. Anyway, um, carry on with your practice. I’m ...I’m just gonna finish up here so Maria clears my bar tab from the week and get out of your hair.”

Alex looked down at his guitar, before lifting his eyes back to Michael, some of the warmth banked. “Any requests while you work then? I’m just messing around, no real setlist to practice.”

“Nah, whatever you want. It all sounds good.” Michael grabbed his wrench and then dropped back down behind the bar out of sight. He exhaled again, looking at the repaired tap ruefully. If he left now, he could consider the encounter a success. No shouting, no tears, no urge to empty his flask of acetone to numb himself.

Then. The soft strands of “Bright Eyes” picked up in the quiet bar and Michael revised that last thought, unscrewing the cap from his flask to take a long drink as Alex played.

[adiwriting]

Prompt: How about some Maria/Michael friendship sweetness? 💗

*I’m a sucker for re-building friendship and post-breakup moments, so here you go. Also, I am 2 prompts in and already broke my 1k max promise, which is on brand for me.*

“Thank you for this,” Maria says as Michael finishes soldering the new wires together on the cash register that had broken. “I know things between us are weird and you didn’t have to answer my call.” 

“Weird? Why? Because you broke up with me in the middle of a hospital where I’d been sitting at your sickbed for most of the week?” he asks with a straight face, but the moment she starts shifting uncomfortably on her feet he drops it. “DeLuca, it’s fine. We’re still friends, right?” 

The last part is said nervously. Like perhaps he’d misunderstood the situation and she’s about to tell him differently. 

The tension leaves her body and she gives him a soft smile. “Yeah. We’re still friends, Guerin.” 

They smile at each other and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed for them. But then Maria takes a step back and looks away and Michael remembers that everything has changed. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she says, and the mood shifts back to a friendly one. 

“Well good, cause the only other decent bar in this place is Planet 7 and as much as I love the eye candy, somehow I always end up finding glitter on me for days after leaving. Shit is invasive.” 

“You sure that’s the only reason you don’t like it?” Maria asks, tilting her head and giving him that look, like she’s trying to read him. 

“Alright Nancy Drew, calm down,” he says, mentally throwing up some barriers in case she actually does get a read off of him. She hasn’t mentioned her powers escalating to actual mind-reading, but given how astute Mimi always is it wouldn’t surprise him. 

“You know, I own this bar right?” she says, moving around the bartop to sit down at one of the stools. “Nothing happens here without my knowledge.”

“Okay?” He doesn’t know where this is going. 

“So I heard about Alex’s little open mic night,” she says, clearly fishing.

“So you heard about him kissing Forrest then.” 

Michael hadn’t been upset at the news when he’d first heard it. Nor when he’d continued to hear it as the gossip spread around the town. This town is full of people with way too much time on their hands. This is something he’s always known. He’s happy for Alex. Glad that he’s comfortable with somebody enough to be out in all the ways he was always too terrified to be with Michael. It’s good for him. Even if it does give him a slight pang to think about the ways they never got to be out together. 

“I heard about him singing a song about his high school lover,” she says, giving him a pointed look. “You and I both know that wasn’t Forrest.” 

“Maria, what are you doing?” he asks. He already gets it regularly from Isobel, he doesn’t need it from her. He knows what he’s doing by giving Alex space. And yes, there’s a chance it means Alex won’t come back, but it’s a chance he’s willing to take because Alex deserves a chance to explore his options without all of their baggage weighing him down. If you love something let it go and all that. 

“Alex is my best friend.” 

Michael lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know,” he says. “I don’t need the reminder. If you’re about to tell me I’m a shitty person or whatever—” 

“Did I say that?” she asks. 

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that Alex is my best friend and you are my—” she cuts herself off and both of them look away awkwardly. The breakup is still fresh enough for them to still forget at times. “Well, I care about you. I want you to be happy. I think that’s only going to happen when you’re together.” 

He sighs. He’s pretty sure she’s right, though he doesn’t want to say as much and risk hurting her feelings. He’d tried to be happy without Alex… It had crashed and burned. 

“Is that why you broke up with me?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the back of the bar. “For him?” 

“That’s not the only reason and you know it,” she says with a pointed look. 

“Yeah.” 

Because he does. They were never going to see eye to eye on her decision not to wear the bracelet and he would have respected her choices enough to stop asking, but it would have destroyed him to do so. Still does. Seeing her bare wrist terrifies him. 

“That song wasn’t for me,” he says, changing the topic before he can ask her to wear it again. He has no right. Not anymore. He’s not sure he ever did. 

“Michael,” she says his name like she’s exhausted. 

“No,” he cuts her off. “Listen. I know it was about me, but it wasn’t for me. He didn’t invite me to the Pony. He sang it for himself. And if you’d heard the lyrics, you would have heard him say there’s a battle he’s gotta fight alone right now.” 

“But it’s you he’s fighting for. Yeah, I know. I made him play it for me,” she says. 

“You did?” Somehow, he assumed she wouldn’t be interested in listening to a love song sung by her best friend about her recently ex-boyfriend. 

“It was good.” 

Michael can’t help the smile that comes. “Of course it was good. It was Alex.” 

Maria gives him an amused look until he looks away and schools his expression better. 

“So what’s the problem?” 

“I just think that Alex needs time,” he says. 

Maria rolls her eyes. 

“No, really,” he says, annoyed that everyone treats him like he’s stupid whenever he says that. He’s not being needlessly difficult. He’s trying to do the right thing and thinking of the long term rather than just acting on how he feels in the moment. “I think he needs time to get over some things before he’s ready. And honestly? I need time too. To get over…” he trails off before he can say ‘us.’ 

She hears it anyway. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. 

“I know… Still did.” He doesn’t mean it to make her feel bad, but it’s the truth. And he’s trying to be better about being honest about his feelings.

She smiles sadly, eyes watery. 

“Don’t worry about it, DeLuca,” he says, hating that she’s upset. 

She gives him a look like she always does when she thinks he’s diminishing something that he shouldn’t. He walks around the bar to stand next to her and places his hand on her shoulder. 

“So long as we can still be friends, I’ll be okay,” he says. “Sex was good and all, but mostly, I miss talking to you.” 

“Nobody told you that you had to avoid the Pony on my shifts,” she says. He ducks his head but she chases him so he can’t look away. “I’ll always be here for you.” 

“Good,” he says. “Me too.” 

“Good.” She smiles. 

Send your RNM prompts here

[prouvaireafterdark]

6, 7, 8

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Michael, I think! Sanders is fun too (and Alex, of course)

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

In general, I would say I strike a pretty fine balance between dialogue and descriptions of what people are thinking and feeling (physically and emotionally), which I think adds a lot of depth to a scene.

When I write smut, I’d say my style is pretty fucking filthy and I think others would agree. I’m not afraid to use the word cock and imo every scene is made exponentially better with the right amount of dirty talk, but I also always try to add an emotional element too so you can really feel how much Michael and Alex love each other (which may be a big reason why I’m stalling on the Malex Sex Shop AU, since they’re basically strangers and don’t have a decade of repressed feelings to work with, but that’s a separate issue lol). 

I also abuse the fuck out of em dashes and I will not be stopped.

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Yup! I’m 1000% here for fluff and smut and that’s most of what I write. I write (and read) hurt/comfort too, but these days especially I’ve been feeling fluffier fics ‘cause real life is stressful enough tbh

[angsty-aliens]

First sentence: "Okay, what's happening and why are you naked?"

“Okay, what’s happening and why are you naked?” Alex squinted at Michael who at least attempted to cover himself and look embarrassed.

“Nothing.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, “Nothing? Guerin, you’re naked and my floor is all wet.”

Michael huffed, “it was supposed to be a surprise. I was trying to give Buffy a bath and your dog does NOT like baths. I was soaked Alex, soaked!”

Buffy sauntered out looking as smug as a fat older beagle could look. Michael just narrowed his eyes at her and pointed emphatically. “When you said you didn’t like giving her baths, I didn’t know it was because she was a squirmy, heavy, gremlin! I thought it was like you not liking to do the dishes! I was trying to be nice.”

Alex couldn’t help but laugh at his affronted tone. Buffy hated water and made sure everyone knew she hated water who had the misfortune to bath her. Michael looked like a drowned rat with water droplets hanging off the curl that always dangled in his eye. Not to mention the water droplets slowly dripping down his torso to where his hand still covered his groin. Alex never expected to be jealous of a drop of water before.

“Okay, tell you what, you go dry off and grab some clothes from my closet. I’ll dry off the diva here, and we can warm up under this blanket and see what’s on netflix.”

Michael winked. “Netflix and chill. Got it.”

And with that he sashayed into Alex’s bedroom making sure the other man got a good look at his ass. Alex rolled his eyes. Sure, Michael was being nice.

[aewriting]

I Know Nothing Stays the Same: Alex and Michael's time in Texas in the motel, how caring Michael is and how much Alex wants to give that back to him. They are so young and sincere and it's romantic but also so heartbreaking. And when Alex learns his father is dead. And he just breaks down. And The Everglades.

Aw thank you thank you. I truly have such a soft spot for these two as teenagers - that sweetness they had for each other even with the awful upbringings they had. Being each other’s safe place. Like, they’re truly trying their best to show each other that they care, even though they’ve had no model of what a healthy relationship would look like.

And honestly, that’s sort of the setup for the whole fic, because the love is always there, but it is still so hard to live a life together with that sort of trauma without a real commitment to healing, together and separately.

Thank you!

[jule1122]

Last Line Meme 2

Since I was also tagged by @foramomentonly and I have multiple WIPs, I decided to post another one.

Rules: write the latest line from a wip and tag as many people as there are words in the line. make a new post! 

This is from I became all about you which I started as a meet ugly for Malex Week, but it got away from me.  I really love this story, at least the version in my head, and I am hoping to get the confidence to finish it soon.

“You’re impossible,” Alex laughs.  “So what do you do when you’re not here living out your candy striper fantasies?”

“Sounds like you're the one with the candy striper fantasy,” Michael teases.  “If you want to see me in a dress, all you have to do is ask.”

Alex looks Michael up and down, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They are starting to cross a line into flirting that Michael’s not sure they are ready for so he pulls back.  “To, ah, answer your question,” he clears his throat.  “I’m a mechanic at Sander’s junkyard outside of town.”

Again tagging everyone, but also @beautifulcheat and @ladynox because I know they are always writing something.

[arielana]

RNM Create 2021 - Day 1

It’s so nice to have this event back! I discovered lots of new favourites, and was reminded of old ones, during last year’s event and I’m really looking forward to doing the same this year ❤️.

Since I listed all my older favourites last year, this time I’m only including works that were published after the last event, so from September 2020 - August 2021. 

Character

This list ended up being not so much about fics that focus on one particular character, but more about fics with excellent characterization. People who write characters I love in a way that I love. (Today is very Malex focused, it will be a bit more mixed later in the week.)

Get You Wild, Make You Leave by @foramomentonly

Sure, it’s a cheating fic (see the tags), with excellent smut (as all of foramomentonly‘s smut, seriously 🔥 ) but it’s also so much more. The story is told with such lovely emotional depth, and understanding and care for the characters. It feels very true to both Michael and Alex, and beautifully deals with all their issues and coping mechanisms.

two-body problem by @haloud

The amount of times I find myself just scrolling through haloud’s page on AO3, especially whenever I want to read about Michael being good (he is), are too many to count, so trying to pick out a favourite was hard. In the end, what made me go for this fic was the line “But Michael was entirely a tomcat who didn’t know what to do with a bird once he caught it” which I can’t stop thinking about. This is about Michael trying to get Alex’s attention, and getting it 😏.

pieces want to be together (ch 8) by @sabrinachill

This is a collection of ficlets that are all worth a read of course, but the link goes specifically to chapter 8 which is Malex hugging. They’re friends, on their way to something more maybe, but not yet. It’s a description of a hug, from Michael’s POV, that’s all, and it’s absolutely beautiful.

Playing strangers by @jocarthage

As the title says, Michael and Alex ”play strangers” one night in a bar, which allows them to open up, address some things from the past and understand each other better. They get to see themselves through the other person's eyes and the conversation is so good!

Benediction by ALovelyLitwit / @litwitlady

Litwitlady is amazing at writing Malex talking. Whenever the show isn’t delivering when it comes to people using their words (so often) I can always go to one of her fics instead. This however, is not so much talking, very few words are spoken at all actually, as Isobel walks in on Alex and Michael in bed (check the tags first). I love the intensity of Alex in this fic; staking a claim, letting himself go and deciding not to be ashamed.

I'm just like my mother, we both love to run by takemetoyourpizza (lje) / @meneatyoghurt

I definitely have a soft spot for stories about baby Alex and his relationship with his mom. This has that, as well as glimpses into Alex’s life growing up and as an adult and it is really well written and, for me, feels very true to Alex and who he is.

stuck in gravity, clawing for some bravery by @lambourngb

This fic has so many of my favourite things when it comes to Malex - working on their friendship (and really becoming good friends) but secretly pining, wanting what’s best for the other even if it hurts, both thinking the other has moved on when he hasn’t, misunderstandings (due to an “alien sex thing” that is an amazing idea and funny as well as angsty, it’s them after all), walking away (of course) but then deciding to stay and talk it out instead. Oh, and a handprint as well ☺️. It checks every box for me and L’s characterization is always (always!) spot on. Each new fic makes me squeal with delight!

[litwitlady]

Last Line Meme

Tagged by @foramomentonly <3

Rules: Write the latest line from your WIP and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

The last line from each of my three WIPs:

It’s what he hopes for them once Michael wakes up.

Help me, help me, help me.

That’s when he notices the smell.

As we can see, I’m the queen of brevity. No one is surprised.

If you haven’t been tagged, I tag you. <3

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Rules: Write the latest line from your WIP and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

His hands spasming and tugging at Alex’s hair the only outward sign that he was getting losing control.

Thanks @foramomentonly for tagging me. There's no way I've got 13 people to tag, but I'll do my best.

@jocarthage @malzysaur @im-the-punk-who @lambourngb @daughterofelros @a1kitkat @thep0rnfairy @pippsmcgee @spaceskam @tasyfa @prouvaireafterdark

annnnd whoever else wants to do the thing!

[queermil]

fic writer interview

Tagged by @chamblerstara​ and @andrea-lyn​

Name(s): millie (queersirius/milzilla)

Fandom(s): currently only writing for rnm but i’ve written for les mis, merlin, and harry potter as well

Where you post: here and ao3

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos):  i won't go, i can't do it on my own -  alex tries to let go by giving back the pieces of michael he's kept.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos): put me to work - michael meets his new boss' son. turns out, they've met before.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: i'll meet you there, in the summertime - it changes all the time but at the moment it’s probably this. i’ve gotten some comments about people rereading it lately and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. i just feel like i nailed the set up, tone, and execution with this one.

Fic you were nervous to post: you can lay your hands on me - this is the mirror sex fic and i was suuuuper nervous to post it cause it’s just smut but i was also worried that it was too heavy handed. it was meant to be a treat for kieran though, cause of her hilarious malex meme post.

How do you choose your titles?: everything is song titles, except for you can fight. that one’s all quotes from the movie.

Do you outline?: nope! i probably should.

Complete: 22, according to ao3. it’s more than that (oh boy, LJ days)

In-Progress: just the one! (i’m sorry i’m sorry)

Coming soon/not yet started: uhhh like 5 or 6? who knows how many of those will actually come to fruition. definitely 2-3 active ones.

Prompts?: i get nervous about filling them but i’d take them. i’m better at taking posts with prompts (like the post talking about mechanic michael) and turning those into fics.

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: i think the pollen fic will be decent when it’s done. 

No-pressure Tags: @indarkstars​ @a1kitkat​ @emma-arthur​ @foramomentonly @aewriting pls forgive if you’ve already been tagged

[lambourngb]

19, 20, and 21!

19. Is there something you find yourself repeating in your writing (favorite verbs, something you describe ‘too often’ trope you can’t get enough of)

I’m really repetitive about letting the reader know that my characters are either looking at each other or carefully not looking at each other- which I hope isn’t too clunky and I try really hard to use sparsely. But like eye contact is all over my stuff, probably to the point where I ask myself- isn’t it obvious? Don’t most people look at the person they are talking to? Malex are clowns with the “I never look away” line... I also repeat “softly” “gently” a lot in speech tone description- I wish there was a better way of describing it hahaha, especially because I like writing Malex as being soft and careful with each other.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes)

Oh wow this is a good question!

I really enjoy communication- lots of my stories have two characters talking with each other, and there’s always in most of these conversations a point where one tries to shut down a topic because it’s painful, and the other character is patient and kind and wants to gently discuss it? That’s all over LYW and Leave the Fire Burning, and even cropped into my co-write with Christi.

I don’t know if I’m talented enough to say there’s symbolism- though because I write eye contact into almost everything I do try to include self-reflection/outside interpretation in my writing? How you perceived yourself versus how you’re perceived by others.

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series) 

I would love Last Year’s Wishes to be a 10 episode series done by Starz to replace the season 2 (sorry is that too boastful? too salty? hahaha) if Starz doesn’t want to do it, then SkyAtlantic can have a shot- (Anyone watch Devils? So good in filming a heavy subject matter without making it feel slow because LYW has a lot of talking, lots of intimate conversations).

I think Leave the Fire Burning is too pornographic to film, hahaha.

You could probably do “you give me a good reason to be heartsick again” as a webcomic.

Another good question! I feel like almost every story I write fits in a different medium.

Thanks for the ask! (sorry for the delay, I needed some brain cells to respond to these questions)

[adiwriting]

S, T, U, V for the writer's ask!

I just answered S here

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

I don’t know if this is a trope, but I cannot stand reconciliation/reunion fics where one character stands there and admits every fault and the other character is just like “yes, good, okay, I will take you back now.” I prefer my stories to involve characters both coming together and able to admit their own faults and how they’ve contributed to things not working out. 

Other than that... if you’d have asked me 2 weeks ago, I would have said mpreg. Which is kind of hilarious now considering what I’ve been writing. 

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Only 3?! That’s really cruel. I feel like there are way more than 3 authors that I love. So I guess I’ll just list out some of the authors that teach me and inspire me to be a better writer (though even that list is probably like 6 people long). 

@litwitlady: I’ve gotta start with Brooke. When I came into RNM fandom I was having a hard time finding fic that I really vibed with. There were a lot of good stories that I was reading, but a lot of it just had a different view of canon than I did, so while i enjoyed reading it, it didn’t inspire me to be a better writer. Then I read Brooke’s stuff and I’ve never stopped. Anyone that has followed me for awhile knows that I just gush and gush about Brooke’s writing because it’s so lovely. I read it and I think “Wow, this is what my writing could be if I was more poetic in places... If I spent more time coming up with a metaphor to describe these feelings instead of just explaining the physical reaction to that emotion.” And so Brooke is forever a fav because her writing inspires me to write more “pretty” 

@jule1122: Every time I read one of their fics I’m just floored by the way they’ve mastered characterizations. I always walk away from one of their fic feeling like I’ve learned something new about life, but not feeling preached at. It’s a very special gift that they have in being able to tell very human stories in a way that I deeply connect to and envy. It’s difficult to really explain to anyone that hasn’t read their fic, but it’s just... really really beautiful work. 

And... UGH, I hate picking 3 because I’m stuck here trying to figure out if I want to talk about how @haloud has written some of the best smut I’ve ever read and how the characterization is just *chefskiss* and makes me want to do so much better with my own work. Or do I want to talk about how @lambourngb is able to create (and actual finish) these grand stories that span multiple chapters and do an amazing job with character arcs and growth and showing how to navigate difficult situations and character moments with maturity? Or do I want to talk about @jocarthage and how I’m ever in awe of the amount of research she puts into a fic before writing, leaving such a tight, realistic, and consistent story on the page. I can’t choose. 

And that doesn’t even touch on all the writers I just truly love and have on my AO3 subscribe list... 

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Oh wow. What a question. Because there are so many good fics out there in this fandom that I want sequels and prequels to but don’t necessarily want to write myself. Like, I don’t want to write a sequel to Brooke’s Savior!Michael fic but I want to read it. I don’t want to write more of Hal’s Marco fic, but we all know I’d kill somebody for more. And the list of things I want to read but am not willing to write myself is long. 

So I’m gonna go with something fluffy. I would totally write a sequel to @christchex’s sharkey verse because it’s just so soft and adorable. I call it my emotional support fic. 

[prouvaireafterdark]

Definitely 7 and 8 for the writer's meme

7. what books have shaped the way you think about writing the most? why?

Oh man. Well, it really depends on what type of book and what type of writing we’re talking about here, because I’m a philologist and Vergil’s Aeneid has really blown my mind when it comes to the way I view the beauty of poetry and the care and thoughtfulness a writer can display in the crafting of their work, but that doesn’t really apply a whole lot to my smut fic lmao

Though, at the same time, I do think about Vergil often when I write fic because of his notoriously slow writing speed. He wrote at a pace of only about three lines a day and is celebrated as one of the most incredible writers to have ever lived, and when he died with his work unfinished, imperfect, he asked that it be destroyed. It wasn’t and people are still gushing about his work two thousand years later, imperfect or not.

So, so what if it takes me a while to finish a fic? So what if it isn’t as perfect as maybe I wanted it to be in my head when I finally post it? That doesn’t mean it isn’t good or wasn’t worth the effort, and it certainly doesn’t mean that people won’t enjoy it.

8. which of your own projects have shaped your writing the most? in what way?

Hmm... maybe Taking Care, the first RNM fic I ever wrote. It was the most explicit fic I’d ever written and it was well-received, which really gave me the confidence to keep writing and pushing my own boundaries.

[angsty-aliens]

Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories Of Childhood (3/3)

Final chapter of my inner child fic which was supposed to be a short little one shot and has evolved into a verse. 

Alien tech has manifested an inner child for Michael. And that child has a knife. 

Thank you again to the many people who helped beta and brainstorm, especially @jocarthage, @haloud, and @foramomentonly. You can read the whole fic on Ao3

***

Morning came earlier than Michael wanted. Apparently the downside to sharing a bed with Alex was Alex still operated on military time, and although he certainly tried to let Michael sleep in, by 7am he couldn’t resist tracing a finger across an eyebrow and down his cheek. Michael didn’t mind. There were worse ways to be woken up, then the gentle caress of Alex Manes touching his face.

At some point in the night, Alex ended up curled loosely against the curve of Michael’s back. He fit perfectly and it felt right. Michael could feel the swell of his cock slotted against the back of his boxer briefs, and he couldn’t help but arch back slightly, chasing the feeling. Alex chuckled, and tugged Michael flat on his back so he could peer down at him, propped up on an elbow.

“Hands above the waist?”

Michael leered with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, “pretty sure your hands were above my waist.”

Alex laughed, “always gotta find the loophole, Guerin.”

They kissed softly, noses bumping together in their eagerness.

After a few minutes of lazy making out, Alex reluctantly separated. “Do we think Mikey is still asleep?”

Michael thunked his head back against the pillow with a sigh, “Mikey is definitely not still asleep. I never slept through the night in a new placement. Even though he should KNOW he’s safe here with me, I guarantee he’s been awake for hours.”

“Should I be worried about my cabin?”

“He’s not gonna burn down your cabin, Alex.”

Alex tried to sooth him, “I know that. I’m not worried about that.”

Michael grudgingly sat up and retrieved his pants from the floor. “Only one way to see…”

It took them a few minutes for Alex to attach his prosthetic and for them to get dressed. Alex tried to exit the bedroom quietly in case Michael was wrong about the boy sleeping, but sure enough, the kid was fully dressed and reassembling the toaster on his coffee table. The couch had been stripped of all bedding, and every quilt was folded neatly and tucked unobtrusively to the side. Alex’s laundry basket was full of neatly folded clothing. The boy obviously emptied the dryer when he woke up, and tried to tidy up on his own. He did a good job. A better job than Alex expected any eleven year old to do. He had practice at this.

Michael tousled the kid’s hair on the way to the kitchen, “do you want oatmeal for breakfast or pizza?”

The kid was focused on his task, and carefully screwed in part of the toaster, “pizza!”

Alex was distracted, “uh, oatmeal.” He looked around again, “thank you Mikey for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t expect you to do that.”

The screwdriver hit the table as the boy looked up in alarm, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

“No, no it’s okay. I appreciate that you folded the laundry. You just didn’t NEED to do that. You’re a guest.” Alex tried to think of a way to salvage this exchange because the boy was definitely panicking, thinking he was in trouble. “If you want to help, we can give you chores. We can all share the chores. How does that sound?”

Mikey carefully picked the screwdriver back up again, “... I can do chores.”

Alex nodded solemnly at Mikey, a bargain struck, and he walked into the kitchen to kiss the back of Guerin’s neck, while hugging him from behind. “Why is he being a Stepford Wife?”

Michael continued to slowly move about the kitchen to heat up Alex’s oatmeal, while Alex held him like a limpet. “He promised to be nice to you.”

“Why is he tidier than you are? You leave your clothing everywhere and he’s cleaned everything up like I hired a maid service.”

Michael ran a soothing hand across Alex’s arms, locked tightly across his stomach. “Some houses liked that. Some houses required it. Religious freaks definitely required it. He’s just covering his bases. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Alex kissed his neck again and rubbed his cold nose into Michael’s curls, “I’m glad you leave messes. It drives me crazy sometimes, but I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to leave a mess.”

Michael pulled two cold slices of pizza out of the fridge and laughed, “thanks?”

Alex turned him in his arms so he was hugging him properly. Usually Michael was the clingy one, but the kid rattled him. Alex wanted affection dammit.

The two men stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms tight around each other when the kid waltzed in and grabbed his slice of cold pizza. The boy smirked at Michael, “good slumber party, huh?”

Michael raised a middle finger as the kid laughed.

Mikey smirked, “Just bros being bros! Totally platonic!”

And with his hands full of pizza, the boy disappeared back into the living room to finish working on the toaster.

With a sigh, Michael shrugged, “well he said he’d TRY to be nicer.”

***

Having an eleven year old alien around the house was both simpler and more complicated than Alex anticipated. The kid didn’t leave any big messes. He was actually obsessively clean. It was like there was no kid there at all. If Alex didn’t watch him sit at the coffee table, silently putting his toaster back together with the crust of cold pizza sticking out of the side of his mouth like a cigar, Alex could almost believe he was alone. Mikey was silent and contained. He hunched up small like he didn’t think he deserved to take up too much space. Apparently being ‘nice’ meant disappearing.

Guerin on the other hand left his boots kicked into a corner of his bedroom. His hat was on top of a lamp. His side of the bed was a rumpled mess. And he was currently humming a country song enthusiastically and off key. Alex had no question where Michael was at all times. He could close his eyes and still know, because Michael was an ever moving force of nature. Even when he tried to sit still, his knee bounced, his head swayed, his hands tapped out tunes on the arm rest. He was full of kinesthetic energy.

The complicated part of having an eleven year old alien in the house was Alex was pretty sure his couch cushions were hiding a myriad of snacks. The kid thought he was subtle, but he kept reaching between the seat cushions and nodding to himself with satisfaction. Michael insisted Alex leave it be. Apparently no conversations were needed about his couch becoming a vending machine.

The boy also didn’t have the habits most kids were taught at a very young age. Alex had to herd him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. And when Michael argued that tooth brushing was only required when his breath got nasty, Alex herded his boyfriend into the bathroom too. They could brush teeth together, like a family. A weird little Lilo and Stitch family.

Mikey had only been at the cabin for two days, but Alex couldn’t imagine a time when he didn’t exist. Isobel brought a bag of clothing and necessities from Walmart and he shrunk smaller and smaller every time she pulled out a new item, arms curled around his stomach. Like he was being buried under the invisible weight of the clothing. A new toothbrush made his shoulder hunch up to his ears, Star Wars themed pajamas had him hugging his knees to his chest, the new shoes made him tuck his chin into his arms and shrink. Michael had hugged his sister and ushered her out of the cabin before the kid could diminish any further.

Isobel meant well. “They’re Star Wars pajamas! The same design as Luke Skywalker’s flight suit! Because you always talked about wanting to see the stars.”

She meant so well.

Later Michael whispered that the kid was feeling the debt. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him without an ulterior motive. There was a currency to kindness and the boy wasn’t sure when the bill would come or what they’d ask of him. It reminded Alex of being seventeen in his father’s shed, handing Michael his brother’s guitar and watching his guard go up.

“Sometimes people can be nice for no reason.”

“Not in my experience.”

Things were clicking into place. An equation finally making sense. And all he could do was hug Michael a little tighter and hope he could give Mikey a better experience for as long as they had him.

The boy presented him with his toaster. Alex was positive the toaster was never really broken. The side was a bit dinged up from when it got knocked off the counter a few months ago. And the knob was stuck on 4, but Alex liked 4. It meant his toast was dark brown which was fine. It was perfectly adequate. He could live with 4. But now the knob turned freely, giving him every option of crispiness for his toast. And the ding had been buffed out. The kid made the toaster work like new. When Alex told him that, Mikey stood up straighter. The boy tried not to smile at the praise. In a fit of bravery, Alex reached out to toustle his hair like he watched Michael do, and the boy closed his eyes for a second and actually grinned. He could only bear Alex’s attention for a second before running off into the backyard. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with praise. It didn’t fit him comfortably, and he had to run away. Alex knew that feeling. Jesse Manes didn’t believe in praise either. Alex remembered the discomfort the first time a PE teacher congratulated him on his endurance. It felt like the comments had to be mocking. He was being made fun of. It took a long time to realize the coach was being genuine.

Michael sat next to him on the couch and kissed his cheek. “What are we doing, Alex?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t really write this into my planner. I guess we’re winging it.”

“Are we moving too fast? We went from not dating, to dating, to playing house with an eleven year old. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, “We’ve been on and off for a decade. It’s not like we’re strangers. I think keeping things PG for a while between us is a good idea, but we can watch Mikey and it won’t ruin anything.”

The kid was running in circles in the backyard. If there was a game, Alex couldn’t figure it out. It just looked like circles for the sake of circles. Making himself dizzy enough to fall down.

Michael’s phone started to buzz. Who would call instead of text? The name “Liz Ortecho” flashed and he reluctantly swiped to answer.

Liz’s voice came out in a rush, “Don’t be mad.” “Elizabeth Ortecho, no good news ever came after the statement -  don't be mad.”

Liz continued, “Okay I know we were going to wait to mess with the disk until we could be at the lab together, but I…”

Michael scrubbed a hand over his face, “Oh god Liz, what did you do?”

“It’s not bad! Hey, put me on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat this to Alex later.”

Michael placed the phone between them and pushed a button.

“You’re on speaker,” Alex was puzzled but supportive, “Liz are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I was pressing different glyphs on the disk and I think I may have accidentally accessed a user manual. Kind of. It sort of was like a psychic connection, either I accessed a user manual, or it caused me to have a psychotic break.”

“Liz.” Alex looked at Michael in alarm.

Her voice took on a higher pitch, “It’s fine! I took notes!”

Michael rolled his eyes, “THAT is not the part we’re worried about!”

Liz ignored them, “Okay so this is what I wrote down: the disk IS a therapy tool. Its intended purpose is to encourage the patient to reconnect with a difficult point in their life and by interacting with the construct the patient develops a healthier understanding of their past.”

Michael interrupted her, “Liz I hope this thing didn’t give you brain cancer.”

“Shut up.”

“Or worse, you could have accidentally triggered your own mini Ortecho.”

Irritation colored her voice, “Michael, let me finish. The connection wasn’t in English. It was all concepts, so I’m not sure I’m translating it right. Mikey is real. He’s a real kid and he’ll age like a real kid. You’ve gotta make peace with yourself, forgive yourself, and when you’re ready you both hold onto the disk and you meld back together. It doesn’t hurt him. He’s part of you. And if you never touch the disk again, Mikey stays. He’ll grow up like any normal child. We should probably run tests on both of you though, just to see. Kyle can give you both a physical.”

Michael shook his head, “The kid is NOT going to like Valenti.”

Liz insisted, “Kyle’s great with kids. It’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral.”

Alex elbowed Michael, “Okay so why didn’t the disk meld them back together when they both touched it a few days ago?”

Liz said, “It won’t work until Michael deals with his childhood trauma.”

Michael laughed, “Sure, I can just deal with my trauma. I’ll go see a therapist and talk about my abandonment issues that began when my family crash landed in Roswell in 1947. Easy.”

Alex put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You could talk to a therapist and leave out the alien details. You were abandoned. Your siblings were adopted and you weren’t. You survived a string of abusive foster homes. These are all human problems.”

Michael shrugged, dislodging the hand, “Therapists are expensive. You can’t just go talk to one. It’s cheaper to drink beer.”

Liz’s voice piped up through the cell phone, “Super healthy coping mechanism, Michael.”

Michael deflected, “So ANYWAY, if we don’t touch the disk, Mikey stays? And if we do touch the disk after I sell an alien kidney to talk to a shrink, then Mikey gets sucked back into me?”

He could almost hear the grimace in her voice, “Gross way to put it, but yes.”

“Okay thanks Ortecho. Don’t push anymore buttons on the disk. Max would cry if your brain melted.” Michael hung up the phone, turned to Alex and interlaced their fingers, “I can always take him back to the airstream. We can get out of your hair. I don’t know how long he’ll be here. You don’t just get over a shitty childhood in a day and go eat ice cream.”

Alex squeezed his hand, “I want you to stay here. I want you both to stay here. We can always clean out the extra bedroom. Right now it’s full of boxes from when I packed up Jim’s stuff. I can ask Kyle to go through it and keep what he wants. It’d be easy to turn that back into a bedroom.”

“Not your creepy murder basement?”

“Definitely not the creepy murder basement.” Alex considered,  “Although actually I could probably store the boxes in there!”

Alex nodded and continued, “If the kid is here for longer than a week, we can make long term plans. I can forge paperwork. Say you’re the father and you didn’t know about him. His mother moved out of Roswell and dropped him off out of the blue.”

“I would have been sixteen or seventeen when I slept with the mother. A teenage father, how scandalous… but sort of on brand for me.”

“Maybe she was a tourist? Not anyone any of the locals would remember.”

Michael laughed, “Okay so Mikey is the result of a hook up between teenage me, and an adult out of town tourist. Yeah, this is definitely sounding like something I’d do.”

Alex was starting to become more comfortable with this plan. He loved having a plan. “So we’d need a name. Michael is a super common name and maybe she liked you enough to give him your first name, but he’d need a new last name.”

“Truman. My mom’s name was Nora Truman. I don’t care what name his fake mom has, and I don’t really want people thinking I slept with someone named Nora Truman, but he could be Michael Truman. I could have been Michael Truman if my mom got me out of the pods.”

Alex watched the boy fall down and get back up to run even tighter circles. “Maybe we can let Mikey pick out his fake mom’s name. Let him have some sort of agency, and feel involved in these choices. Are you okay with me helping you?”

“Like am I okay with you co-parenting my weird alien inner child?” Michael raised an eyebrow, “This week is so weird. Yes. Please, please help me. I barely kept myself alive for twenty one years on my own. I don’t trust myself to watch TWO of me.”

Alex tugged him closer, “you did a great job on your own. And you’d do a great job now. You just shouldn’t have HAD to have done it alone as a kid, and I don’t want you to be alone now. I want to help. I don’t think we should enroll him in school anytime soon. We should try and figure out more. But I like having some sort of idea of where we’re going here.”

“You and me, and my feral little monster who has a knife”

“Wait, he has a knife?” Alex sat up.

“Oh yeah. I didn’t mention that? It’s a pocketknife. I gave it back to him because I knew he wouldn’t stab you, and you could disarm him if he tried.” Michael appeased, “Which he won’t. I promise he won’t stab you.”  

“He’s not a little monster.” Michael seemed distracted so Alex tugged on a curl to get his attention and repeated, “He’s not a little monster. And YOU’RE not a little monster. He’s a kid and we’re gonna make sure he eats a vegetable every once in awhile, and goes to sleep at a decent hour. We can do this.”

“I mean we’re already doing a better job than any of my foster homes.”

“That bar is pretty low.”

“And yet it exists.”

They eased back on the couch and watched Mikey play.

***

Michael leaned against the backdoor watching his shrinky dink alien run. The kid was playing some sort of weird running game with rules only he knew, and that Michael definitely didn’t remember. One foot managed to get hooked behind the other and the kid landed hard on his ass. Michael winced in sympathy. “Is your butt okay?”

The kid retorted, “is your BRAIN okay?

Michael shrugged, “If your butt hurts we can get Max to heal it. We don’t let him use his powers much anymore since I turned him into a cyborg with an alien pacemaker, but he could heal your butt. You’d just end up with a shiny silver handprint… on your butt. And Max could spy on your feelings, and you’d get to wallow in his poetic angst and guilt.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, “I can’t even tell if you’re kidding. Is that real? Max can heal? But with a handprint and psychic link?”

“Yep.”

Mikey huffed in irritation, “Pretty sure you’re making stuff up, but whatever. What can Isobel do? Fly but she poops alien glitter as a side effect?”

“You should DEFINITELY tell Isobel your theories.” Michael laughed, “But no, she can get into people's brains and influence them.”

Mikey side eyed him, “does she do that to us?”

“No. She promised. Sometimes she can get inside my head but she promises she won’t try to influence us. I don’t even know if she can. She’s only tried the brain thing when she needed to tell me something she couldn’t say out loud.” Michael grimaced, “I didn’t like it. She doesn’t do it often. Apparently our brain is tough and she usually has to puke if she tries anything. SHE says it’s because we’re guarded and paranoid. I think it’s because we’re awesome.”

Michael offered up a hand to high five and the kid pushed past him to the kitchen instead. Ouch.

The kid was getting a glass of water and rummaging around the fridge which made Michael grin. It took awhile to get Mikey to stop asking permission for every single thing. But Michael remembered all the homes that had strict rules about the kitchen. The religious zealots had a lock on the fridge to discourage their charges from greed. Apparently a kid being hungry was the mortal sin of gluttony.

With his head still in the fridge the kid absentminded asked, “Max is a cyborg?”

“He ended up with a heart issue. Long story. I made him a pacemaker and he’s fine now.” Michael wrinkled his nose, “Mostly.”

Mikey kicked the door shut with his hands full of food. “That’s good. Isobel would miss him if something happened to him.”

Michael pulled down a plate to help the boy make a sandwich, “Yeah, Isobel would miss him.”  

The two of them stood side by side making sandwiches. It was good. Eating when hungry. Michael had gotten so used to caregivers forgetting to feed him, that he trained himself to ignore hunger. Unless it was really bad, it didn’t bother him so much anymore. Grabbing a granola bar for breakfast and then working straight through until seven or eight pm wasn’t unusual. It just seemed like a waste of energy to worry about what was for lunch when for so many years there was no lunch. Michael grew up loving school. Not only was it a place he excelled, but he also got breakfast and lunch every day there. He never understood the jokes about how gross cafeteria food was. For him, it was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he was ever gonna get. A sloppy joe served by Mrs. Riley every wednesday at New Roswell High, was his version of a dinner cooked by mom. Summers and Winter break were hard. No school meant no little plastic trays with cartons of chocolate milk and plastic silverware. School was a good place. Michael had liked school.

He cut the sandwiches in half like he’d watched Alex do. It seemed nicer that way. The kid carefully took his plate with two hands. No danger of dropping it. And Michael grabbed plates for himself and Alex, and took them to the table. Lunch. Yet another new thing Michael was trying.

They’d have to figure out what to do the longer Mikey stayed. Michael and Alex both took the day off of work, but the kid would need to go somewhere during the day starting soon. Maybe Max or Isobel. Max was still doing night shifts at the Pony and Isobel was taking a sabbatical from her event planning business. If they went public with the story that Mikey was Michael’s son, he could hang out in the junkyard with him. Michael could fix cars and there were a thousand things the kid could play with. Most foster homes didn’t let Michael fiddle with things. But he loved taking stuff apart and putting it back together. A junkyard was a perfect playground for an engineering genius.

Mikey and Alex were having an animated conversation about the merits of Ninja Turtles. Apparently Alex thought Leonardo was the best because he was the leader and was the most focused. Mikey insisted it was Michelangelo because of… pizza. And honestly, Michael had to agree. Pizza always wins. He grinned at his boys and took another huge bite of his sandwich. Maybe this would work after all.

***

Sleeping in Alex’s bed was never going to get old. There was a Michael shaped divot on the right side of the mattress. Even when he got up, he could see the impression of his body. Alex insisted this meant the mattress was shitty and he needed a new one, but Michael liked the evidence he was there.

He curled up closer to Alex and let his hand rest on his hip, technically breaking the hands above the waist rule but so long as his hand didn’t move, it seemed safe enough. His thumb fit perfectly in the hollow of Alex’s hip. He had rubbed a gentle circle when the part of his brain connected to Mikey pinged a distress call again. With a sigh he climbed out of bed, and hoped he didn’t wake Alex as he left.

The kid was sitting up on the couch wrapped in a quilt. Mikey picked at a loose thread on the knee of his Star Wars pajamas. Michael sat next to him and let him lean his weight against his side.

“Bad dream?”

The kid shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mikey shook his head. A few minutes later he blurted, “I heard you and Alex.”

“Heard us what?”

Mikey rocked a little in place, “Talking about how the disk works. How you gotta talk about your emotions so we meld together like a transformer, Mega-Michael, or you’re stuck with me.”

Michael protested, “I don’t have to talk about my emotions.”

“Sometimes you gotta share your fart with the world. You keep it all squeezed up in your butt and it gives you a stomach ache. You just gotta let it out to feel better.”

“My emotions aren’t farts.” Michael crossed his arms defensively.

“But your face is a fart,”

“We have the same face!”

The kid smirked, “Nah, I look awesome. You look constipated.”

Mikey became quiet and serious. He pressed his body against Michael’s side, trying to become a Mega-Michael without alien technology. “You gotta be okay with the bad stuff that happened to us. You’ve gotta… not blame me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You blame yourself. I blame me. Bad things happened everywhere we went. We were the only constant factor in the experiment, therefore we’re the variable at fault. It’s just science.”

Michael wrapped both arms around the kid, “I don’t blame you.”

The boy huffed, “You’re stuck with me for awhile. If we don’t touch the disk, you could be stuck with me forever.”

Michael rested his chin on the kid’s head, “That wouldn’t totally suck.”

Mikey closed his eyes, “Alex might not be a fan of this plan.”

“Alex likes this plan.” The Michaels looked up as Alex spoke with a smile. At some point he wandered into the hallway unnoticed. His shoulder was against the wall and he leaned heavily on his crutch. He had been eavesdropping.

The kid tried to push himself out of Michael’s hug, but Michael just squeezed him tighter.

Mikey insisted, “You won’t like me. I’m a mess.”

Alex sat on the other side of him and wrapped an arm around his boys, “I like messes.”

“No you don’t. You’re clean. You make your bed perfectly every morning and you always do your dishes. You’d get tired of me. I’m loud.”

“The cabin was too quiet anyway.”

“I’m… I’m mean. I’ll say mean things.”

Alex ran a hand through the boy’s curls, “It’s okay. You can say mean things and we’ll still like you. You can still stay here. We’re choosing you. We want you to stay.”

Mikey tried to push at the arms embracing him. He kicked at Michael as his eyes welled up, “I’m gonna break all the stuff you like!”

Michael winced as a bony heel caught his thigh, “Yeah but we can fix it. Anything you break we can fix together.”

It was like someone cut the strings of a dancing marionette. The kid lost all fight and fat tear drops streamed down his face to his horror. “You’re gonna change your mind.”

Michael looked at Alex, a silent conversation happening above the boy’s head. Michael wiped a glob of snot off the kid’s face with the hem of his shirt. “We’re picking you. On purpose. We want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

Mikey took a great shuddering breath and nodded.

Alex thumbed away a tear, “Then as long as you want us, we want to keep you.”

It wasn’t a conventional family. It wasn’t something Michael ever thought he’d have. But Michael, Alex, and Mikey could pick each other. That was a thing they could do. And they’d be okay.

[aewriting]

WIP Meme

@andrea-lyn tagged me in this - thank you!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Haha sooooo... I just have one large word document on my computer that contains all the writing I’ve done for Roswell NM. It is not very well-organized. But here are the (many) WIPs that live on my computer and phone (and mind):

Morning After

You Can’t Jump the Track

Vague Space

Daddy Gave Me a Name

Loathly

2 Remix fics

Maybe You’ll Get a Replacement

Battle Tested

Las Vegas AU

Noir AU

Western AU

Haha so now I’m keeping myself honest and tagging 12 people ha: @lambourngb , @ninswhimsy , @adiwriting , @litwitlady , @jule1122 , @haloud , @christchex , @foramomentonly , @wle0416 , @vague-shadows , @queersirius , @jocarthage