#i love baseball i love the royals this whole thing is fucking stupid

[robertsbarbie]

the kansas city teams are actually so fucked up for making a promotional video telling kansas citians to ‘vote yes’ on april 2nd and framing it in such a way that it’s a little confusing acting as if the football team is gonna lose their stadium no! they’re not! but a lot of small businesses and people will lose their jobs and homes if they build the new baseball stadium in fucking downtown

[moonfox281]

idk what u think about prompts but imagine having dick beat up jason in front of all his men lmaooo, just like they're sparring and the newbies think that jasons obvi gonna win but jeff and trevor are like, 'just wait' idk

It was Friday night, not to mention the last Friday of the month, meaning paperwork. Jason had been scrunching up in his office for the past eight hours checking over files to files, rubbing face, cracking neck. 

He was tired. He was homesick. He had definitely missed dinner tonight, and also patrol. It was three o’clock when Jason checked his watch again. Three, Dick was probably sleeping at home by now. And if Jason managed to magically finish everything tonight, he’d probably be sleeping in the guest room with Beast taking over his side of the bed. 

Or so he thought. He was just about to pick the pen back up when the door slammed open so hard it shook the room. Nightwing stormed in and strode toward in front of his desk, full-on mask, uniform.

“Honey, you scared me.”

“Spar. Now.”

“Come again?”

Dick groaned and pulled Jason off his seat by the front of his shirt, dragging him all the way to the common room. Yeah, the gang common room, where most of his men found their fight club spirit. Along their ways, his workers dropped their jaws staring at them. In Jason’s defense, that little grip of Dick was very powerful.

Dick threw him down the only leather couch in the room that everybody knew  was only for Jason to sit. His men gagged on air. Okay, to Jason’s defense, again, he who was passively dragged all the way here, was no less surprised than any of them. 

If his reputation wasn’t already spontaneously damned under Dick’s hands, he would probably be really embarrassed. 

“Your men think I can’t beat you.“

Ah, his men were idiots. 

“They also think you always pretend I’m better to save my ego.“

Ah, his men weren’t idiots. They wanted Jason dead. 

“Do you believe them?“

Dick snorted and swiped his hair back with his chin tilted up. Ah, the killer move. He knew Jason would be down on four limbs for that sexy trick. “No. I want to show them.“

Just like that. Just like that, Jason lost his jacket, popped the top buttons of his dress shirt and rolled his sleeves up, gearing his ass for the beating. Dick stood a few steps away, grinning like Cheshire cat. Oh yeah, Dick just loved him playing around with three-piece suits.

“Ready?“

His men cheered, stood tight against each other around the ring. Great, if his floor wiping ass was going to be a public one, better give them a show.

“Okay.”

They walked in circle first, grinning at each other. Sparring wasn’t something new, it was just as much of a routine to them as eating breakfast or taking the dog out. 

In the end, Dick launched first, which okay, Jason hated that. Dick was fast, absurdly fast, his body was built to be fast. He dashed from left to right, front to back like a hummingbird in the air just to fuck with Jason’s eyes.

“You’ve got this Boss!” 

His men applauded. Jason felt a little jolt of energy because as stupid as it was, it was a little encouraging. 

He saw a trace ahead and threw his fist. Dick dodged, as expected, bent his back backward in a 90 degree and slid down the floor on his knees. Jason, with luck, thank God, managed to grab on Dick’s collar just when his back twisted a little painful and threw him over his shoulder. The crowd went wild. 

Usually, that would be it, but oh, Dick wouldn’t have been Nightwing and Nightwing wouldn’t have been Dick if that was it. He spread his legs wide midair and curled them around Jason’s neck before his body got down the ground, pulling Jason off his feet. The crowd went silent.

Jason choked up when he slammed down the floor. Dick grunt over his head. When he mentioned he wanted Dick’s legs over his shoulders for the rest of his life, this wasn’t what he was implying. 

Dick tightened his lock around his neck. Blood rushed to his head, Jason’s ears were ringing. Okay, enough game. 

He growled, pushed all his force and stamped hands down both sides of Dick’s hips, teeth grinding. 

“Come on!“ Dick shouted.

Jason carried both of their deadweights from a really fucked up angle and slowly lifted them up from the ground. Everyone was so quiet, a whispery gasp “holyshit” from someone came out as loud as a bang. 

“Stupid-Pit-juice-urgh!“ Dick hissed and tired out. His legs slid down, releasing air back into Jason’s system. Dick fell and landed on his hands in a three-point landing. 

Jason wrung a few buttons off and cracked his neck. His men were roaring, stomping their feet down the floor. For fuck sake, they were sparring, not opening a metal concert.

“Get him Boss!“

“You’re double his size. He’ll snap in a sec.”

“Show him what real man is, Boss!“

Dick clearly wasn’t happy with the chanting, and neither was Jason. That was the thing about the common room, it wasn’t just for people served exclusively to them, it was for the whole gang. Men didn’t know what Nightwing was, what he was capable of, what Jason was capable of for him.

All they saw, for now, was what met their eyes, a pair of long legs for a big man on a big chair. Gotham Kingpin and his shiny toy. 

In a short second of catching his breath, Jason saw the guys in the team circled around a table, shielding themselves away from the crowd, drinking, half watching, half talking. 

Those were the men that knew the true Red Hood and Nightwing, those were the key chains in the system. And those were the ones who knew exactly how this night was gonna end up like.

Jason cracked his knuckles and huffed. “You know I still have paperwork, right?“

Dick tilted his head. “You know I’m still your husband, right?”

Okay, point taken.  

“I’ll tell you this. If I lose, I’ll help you with paperwork.”

Jason’s shoulder dropped. “Really?” Because Dick had never wanted Jason’s work to meddle with him around a 10 feet range. 

“Really really.” Dick laughed.

Jason struke forward with a false kick.  Dick bit the bait and duck down on instinct, oh but he was damn quick. He caught the knee Jason threw over just in time not to eat the full force of it. But that made him double down, and double down meant showing his neck even for just a slight second. Jason only needed a slight second. 

Jason grabbed on his nape, which he knew was one of Dick’s sensitive spots, and hit his chin with his palm. No, there was no way in hell he would punch Dick in the face. That wasn’t what they did in sparring. And John would definitely chase him with a baseball bat if Dick ever got back with a black eye. 

But who said that hit didn’t count. Dick stumbled back on his steps, managed to wring himself out of Jason’s grip like a fish. He came by the edge of the ring, touched his chin with the tips of his fingers, grinned.

Okay, now Jason was royally dead. 

“You know, tonight was a bit boring.”

“So you needed a punching bag? Really?”

Because Jason totally did not enjoy playing punching dummy just so Dick could do moral lessons to toxic masculinity. Use Jefferson next time.”

Dick jumped forward and Jason was steady for the worse, until Dick vanished in thin air. Jason was an idiot, he should have known, he was fucking used to this. Dick did a full flip and spin in the air and landed right behind Jason’s back. He barely turned back in time to block the foot that flew right at his face. But that was a total mistake.

Dick used Jason’s grip on his ankle and sprung himself in a full-body spin and caught Jason in a double leg grapple. Nightwing’s signature double leg grapple was what put even Deathstroke down on the ground. So there was nothing to be ashamed of when Jason ended up the same and slammed down the floor.

Dick grabbed one of his arms before Jason could try lifting them up by sheer strength again, straining it up in a painful angle. This time, it was a full-body lock. And that was it. Jason might be strong, but he wasn’t Superman.

He tapped the floor with his only free hand before he went out of air. Dick released him with a sigh and did a kip-up to get back on his feet.

“That was fun.“

Jason laid spread on the floor, breathed. Thank god that flashy 360 spin of a double leg grapple shut even a fly up in the room. And thank god he was Dick’s husband and they were only sparring, or else Jason would have lost his neck.

But hey, guess none of the shit head in this room dared to light take him now.  

“Trevor,“ He called. “What’s the time?”

Trevor came by his side and squatted down, check his clock. “16 minutes.”

“Your water.“

“Thank you, Jefferson.“ Dick took the cool towel and water bottle from Jeff and grinned down at Jason. “Don’t you have paperwork?“

Jason rolled his eyes. And because he had already got enough of a night, he purposefully missed the way both Jefferson and Trevor turned away to hide their suppressed laugh. People still circled around the ring, right where he laid, starting, gagging on air. 

“Take a good look.” Jason heaved, slowly got up, dusted his shirt, checked over the ripped off buttons. There went his Bottega Veneta shirt. “Don’t ever provoke him again, clear?”

The gang shouted back “Roger.” and quickly spread out. 

Dick came by his side, gave him a hand. “Come on, I’ll help you with the files.”

Ah, Jason just loved him so damn much.

[bangtan-gal]

Ruin Me (M)

H.hj

Mafia!au

Warnings: smut, angst, not really much fluff, pain kink, corruption kink, dom!hyunjin, sub!reader Mentions of death, drugs (not much), somebody gets burned by a cigar oops 

Word Count: 2.6k

Garrapata.

    The corridor was crepuscular and damp; the walls were made of a rough stone and the few light bulbs cast an orange hue and flickered in and out of existence. You leaned up against the rock, struggling to light a cigarette. You finally managed to connect the flame with the tobacco and watched as the white roll sparked to life. Puffs of smoke curled around you as you picked at your nails. 

Tocado.

Five cigarettes later, there was finally a sign of someone else. A bright white flashlight ran along the walls and you raised a hand to your eyes as it shone over you. You dropped the blunt—barely a third of it gone—and crushed it under your heel. Your brother, Baekhyun, approached you silently with two younger men following behind him. His hair, just recently dyed a sandy blonde, looked like a flame as the light bounced off it. 

His brow raised as he glanced down at the six butts that littered around your feet. He met your bored stare again and then let out a snort. You ignored him as you glanced past to the men with him. One was just barely taller than your brother, his dark brown hair parted down the side. The other was around the same height, his hair a gleaming red. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he commented, nose wrinkling at the smell that clung to you. 

You shrugged. “I didn’t know that you were a gang leader until a couple months ago.”

Mentiroso.

    The tall man’s eyebrow raised and his lips quirked into a smirk. He was gorgeous, even in this dim lighting. You could see the outline of a cross that hung from his ear and the sparkles of many other piercings. He wasn’t buff—more tall and lean—but the outline of a gun that hid under his shirt was enough to have you shivering. 

You and your brother didn’t share anymore words as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and guided you down tunnel. You silently counted every time your boot splashed into a puddle or when a drop of frigid water fell onto you. Baekhyun had refused to meet you outside in broad daylight. He’d given you an address, where you met a fake taxi and were driven to this nasty tunnel. You were instructed to take seven hundred medium steps into tunnel and then wait for your brother. 

His cautiousness wasn’t the old sibling you remember. Baekhyun used to be the reckless one; dragging you out at midnight, jumping off cliffs, and getting in fights with anyone that looked at him or you too long. Seeing this side of him was so odd: he was always expected to get into trouble, but this kind of trouble? This trouble where you couldn’t be stupid and had to actually stop and think? Last thing you’d expect.

Demasiado diferente. 

After he graduated from college, you never saw him again. Your father had died when you were six and he was fourteen. Your mother developed lung cancer eight years later and died just a couple months ago. You weren’t sad: you were never close with either of your parents. The most shocking thing of this whole event was your brother willingly taking you under his wing so you could go to college and get a degree. 

Your feet started to ache tremendously as you neared the end of the tunnel. It was dark outside, a complete contrast to the sunshine you’d seen when you entered this hell hole. A sleek, silver BMW waited for the four of you. A man, wearing a low baseball cap, sat in the driver’s seat. Baekhyun sat in the passenger seat and as you slid into the backseat, you found yourself between the two men. Red hair was silent as he laid his head against the window and you noticed a scar that ran through his eyebrow. 

It was Mr. Blacky that was giving you trouble. His hand rested on your thigh, the cold metal of his rings felt even through your jeans. He was looking out the window, pretending like he wasn’t two inches away from your core, but you could see the small smirk. Frustration roiled through you and you couldn’t tell if it was pure or sexual. 

“Is there a reason I had to come live with you, dear brother?” You piped up, shifting your legs so that Mr. Blacky’s hand fell away. “I mean, mom and dad’s house was paid off, couldn’t I just stay there and you pay for college? I love living in that big, scary house all alone.”

Of course you were biting at him. You were glad he allowed you to live with him, but you yearned for answers. Where had he been all these  years? He didn’t even show up at mom’s funeral and didn’t contact you until two months after her death. You’d been alone for all those months. In that huge-ass, dark, creaky house. 

Muy solitario. 

There were probably ghosts that were waiting to feed on your soul.

Baekhyun didn’t give you the honor of his response.

“I was neomu lonely, Bak,” you grumbled, playing with the string bracelet on your wrist. You heard him shift, his expensive-ass leather jacket squeaking against the custom leather seats. 

“Did you keep up with your Korean lessons?” He asked, slowly shifting the subject.

You frowned. “No. I dropped it and took Spanish.”

Silencio. 

“I’ll have you know that I actually got an award on my spanish. Top of my class. My spanish teacher gave a speech at my graduation. I can speak it fluently. I could probably move to Spain or Mexico—never come back,” you rambled. Baekhyun always hated your ranting and how you had this weird ability to go on and on about the most stupid shit. He deserved thirty hours worth of pointless rambling. “I’ve actually been thinking of taking French. Maybe I could become a professional translator; wouldn’t that be cool? I could travel the world, talk to the locals—OOOO I could run, like, a travel critic blog. Muy bien!” 

You clapped your hands.

“You didn’t mention how fucking annoying she was,” Baseball Cap spoke up. His voice was deep and gravelly.

“This is her way of taking her anger out on me.”

You felt like a scolded child as you sat there. That was the one thing you’d always hated about your brother: his ability to make you shut up with some simple statement. He knew you too well, he knew exactly what got under your skin. He knew how to make you feel stupid or childish and as the years went by, he only got better at it. 

And so, you went silent for the rest of the ride.

☁☁☁☁☁☁

It took you less than a week to learn the rules of the house. Baekhyun told everyone what to do and they all listened. It was rough, nearly impossible for you, your inner self always begging to challenge him. But Baekhyun made it clear he wouldn’t treat you any differently just because the same blood pumps through your hearts. You learned that when he dragged you to a windowless room and let you sit there all night without any dinner.

    You also had to sit through the embarrassing “Off Limits” meeting. It was an hour long talk where Baekhyun repeatedly reminded his men and women that you were untouchable. If anyone so dare as look at you for more than a second, their heads would be ripped off and guts shoveled into a meat grinder. You never agreed to it, but here you were, alone and untouched.

Que divertido.

    You poked at your dinner, staring boredly at the wall. Baekhyun was gone, along with almost everybody, so you were left alone with Mr. Blacky. In other words: Hwang-fucking-gorgeous-Hyunjin. The boy with his stupid teasing smiles, little smirks, and eyebrow raises would not leave you alone. He was older than you by barely a month, but you’d never guess by the way he held himself like the king of the world.

He was a more handsome, younger version of Baekhyun.

And it sucked. 

    If you had known the Baekhyun was trying to turn his men into multiple versions of himself, you would’ve thrown yourself out a window. Hell, you would’ve flipped off the mysterious mailman who delivered the letter you got two weeks ago. This wasn’t fun, this was suburban. 

“So, you’re the royal babysitter?” You asked, looking up at Hyunjin. He sat on the counter, scrolling through his phone and not sparing you a single glance as he answered.

“Sure.”

“You’re barely older than me,” you pouted, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

    He held up the pack of cigarettes he had confiscated from you not even five minutes ago. You watched, your mouth watering, as he shook the packet at you. There was the other rule: no smoking. Or at least not for Y/N or around Y/N. Everyone else constantly smelled like weed and tobacco, but you would never see the drugs again in your life.

“Didn’t you try to leave last time you were alone?”

He spoke about the event as if it wasn’t yesterday. 

“I’m the leader’s younger sister! Don’t you think I deserve some form of special treatment?” You cried, shoving your plate away from you. The boy looked up, watching as the china skittered to the other side of the table before peacefully stopping.

Maldita. 

    You stood up, letting the chair clatter around the shiny tiles. Your feet stomped against the floor as you marched towards the boy. A slap ran through the room as you slammed your hands down on his knees, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. You leaned forward until your faces were mere inches apart.

“I’m not a child.”

“Then why do you act like one?”

    Then he smiled, and there was something about it that was so wrong and so right at the same time. It was sadistic and perfect. Ice shards and fire blazed through your body as a craze lit up his eyes. He tilted his head at you, his hand coming up to run along your cheek and then over your brow bone. 

“You say you want special privileges?” He hummed. His thumb moved down and ran along your lips. Your mouth slowly opened, an ache starting in your core as he slipped the digit in. His knees tightened around your body and he brought your mouth to his.

    You weren’t sure what you were expecting. The taste of weed and addiction? Something bitter? Instead, he tasted like smarties and you could feel his chapped lips pressed against yours. He gripped your chin tightly in his hand as he easily slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your straightened up, moaning into his mouth as his other hand came up to tighten around your throat. 

    He pulled back for barely a second, inhaling sharply before his lips crashed onto yours again. You whimpered, letting your hands slide up his legs and rest on his upper thighs. Your thumbs rubbed circles on his inner thigh and you didn’t miss the way he bucked up into your touch. Hyunjin nipped teasingly at your lips and then pulled back.

    His mouth moved achingly slow along your jaw and then he moved to your ear. Pain laced through your body and pleasure ran to your core as he teeth dug into the upper part of the shell. The soft moan you let out pulled one from him and his grip tightened on your neck. 

“You know,” he whispered into your ear, “you act like such a big, bad girl, but I bet you’ve never had a true taste of danger, hmmm? Do you want it? How badly baby?”

    You panted, eyes slowly meeting his dilated ones as he pulled back and stared at you. It took only one fluid movement for him to hop off the counter, spin you around, and bend you over the marble. Gasps and whimpers of excitement started to leave you. 

Placer y dolor. 

    You felt Hyunjin’s bulge press against your thigh as he ran his hand down your spine. Tingles raced through you and shivered in anticipation. The boy’s desperation bled through as he reached for your yoga pants. He pulled them down quickly, taking your panties with it. He ran his index finger down your folds and then a soft chuckle left him.

“I bet you’re tight too, baby,” he mused. You listen to the sound of him unbuckling his jeans and the sound of them hitting the floor. There’s the soft sound of skin rubbing against skin as he pumps himself out. You lean forward, eyes closing. 

    Hyunjin completely sinks into you in one go. A loud groan escapes you—he stretches you out painfully and deliciously and it’s addicting. His forehead rests against your back and there’s a few moments where he just silently gasps. Then he starts moving.

His thrusts are rough. His fingers dig into your thighs as he hitches you up even higher. Your gasps and his grunts fill the room as his hips smack against your ass. You’re soaked; slurping noises filling the room because of your pussy. His cock continues to hit your g-spot repeatedly and your eyes start to roll into the back of your head.

“Fuck, I could ruin you,” he gasps out, “and no one would ever know. Shit, baby, shit.”

Arruinarme. 

“Just as tight as I thought.”

Arruinarme.

    You felt your high approaching and you unconsciously clenched around him, silently begging for him to finish with  you. And then just as you’re there, just as you feel the beginning of the flashes, he pulled out. You hold still, too shocked to whine or look back. 

Then you hear the all time familiar sound.

Tsssst. 

    You peeked over your shoulder, eyes widening as you watch him light a cigarette. Hyunjin meets your gaze and grins, something broken and psychotic hanging in the depths of his orbs. You watch as he takes a slow puff and then presses a kiss to your neck, the smoke filling the air around the two of you. 

Arruinarme. 

“You can take it baby, whether you want to or not,” he said. 

    Part of you knows what he’s about to do, but the hazy part of your brain refuses to keep up. Then you feel it, a quick jump of pain. You hissed, your head falling against your forearms as the cigarette is pressed to your thigh. You smell it—it’s so subtle, but it’s there—the smell of your own flesh, burning. He pulls it back and you stiffen as you prepare yourself for the next tap. He presses it to your other thigh and this time you let out a loud whimper. Pleasure comes with the pinch this time and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Such a whore, aren’t you?” He laughs.

Then he throws the blunt in the sink and sheaths himself inside you again. His pace picks up, almost as if he never stopped. It barely takes a few seconds for you to finish, your fingers digging into the counter as you tighten around him. Hyunjin grunts and he thrusts harshly through his own orgasm. His seed spills into you and down your legs as he continues to fuck it into you. 

Arruinarme. 

Then he pulls back, letting you breathe. You do, taking in big gulps of air, your legs shaking, and eyes fluttering shut. He lights another cigarette and hands it to you. You accept graciously, puffing on it. The smoke fills the kitchen as the boy helps you back into your pants and then pulls up his own. He runs a hand through his dark hair and then winks at you.

A swirl of smoke surrounds your head as he walks out. 

You hum to yourself.

“Arruinarme.”

[nagdabbit]

A HANDY DANDY GUIDE TO WRASSLIN

For the lovely, the wonderful, the incomparable @gideongrace​ , may I present: Daggs’ Guide to the Wild Ass World of Professional Wrestling! (and it’s goin’ behind a cut because It Got LONG!)

So, here is the things. Wrestling is STUPID. And great? And fun as hell! And the most carny sport to ever exist. But, also SUPER inside baseball a lot of the time just because it’s got such a long goddamn history that it can seem daunting to get into. Like I’ve only been back into it the last four or so years, so there’s a lot of history that I’ve missed! There’s also a whole lot of gate keeping, just like comics or video games. There’s also the bitter truth that a lot of people in the industry are absolute shitheels that should have been fired long ago (and I’ll only be vague about a lot of that). So, yeah. A WHOLE LOT.

First things first: HISTORY. There’s just so much. But, conveniently? You don’t need it. It can be fun if you end up really like wrestling, but contrary to what a bunch of middle-aged, racist, misogynist and WILDLY homophobic, White American Men will tell you, you don’t actually need it to enjoy yourself. If you DO want history, might I suggest the How2Wrestling podcast! It is a cheerful, lovely show hosted by two goddamn delightful humans, Kefin and Jo (who are also just wonderful people to interact with in general)! There is also the Comic Book Story of Professional Wrestling by Aubrey Sitterson and Chris Moreno, which is a great read! Wrestlesplania is another good show for history of the sport and the wrestlers! They’re definitely, uh, hornier, but v fun!

Secondly: On the subject of inside baseball, wrestling jargon is a whole thing. The ONLY part of wrestling history that is 100% important: it is a carny sport. Like, some side-show, vaudeville ass shit, yo. And it has never evolved from that, so there are a whole lot of terms used that are very specific to like... early 1900′s carnival culture. Here is a wikipedia article, but there’s also a wonderful How2Wrestling episode about it all! I’ll try not to use much!

Thirdly: We can’t talk about wrestling podcasts without mentioning Colt Cabana’s The Art of Wrestling. A lot of the archives are behind a paywall now, but the show is great. If you DO get into wrestling and start to find wrestlers you enjoy, I highly highly suggest checking to see if they’ve done an episode. Colt is a goddamn delight of a human, deserving of support and a great interviewer on top of it. Even if you just bookmark eps you’d wanna listen to and then start a free trial to marathon them all. (See also: the Colt Cabana & CM Punk lawsuit(s), in which Colt got royally fucked over.)

Fourthly: Nobodies Watching Wrestling. Drag Queens watching wrestling. That’s all you need to know. Even out of context, they’re goddamn delightful humans. Might I recommend this episode with EFFY, because I sometimes just watch it when I’m having a bad day.

Fifthly: Tights & Fights is a great weekly wrestling pod, and is how I keep up on a lot of things that I might not be watching. PLUS, diverse group of (wonderful) hosts: Hal Lublin, Daniel Radford, Lindsey Kelk, Open Mike Eagle, and producer Julien Burrell. They’re just great. And horny, at times, but in a charming and respectful way.

Now... The boring part. I’m just gonna get some of the popular company introductions out of the way, and then the fun part of So Many Match Suggestions at the bottom. But, business first! (The Big difference between Larger Companies and Independent Companies is that the big guys have a contracted roster of people who sometimes can work with other companies [unless they’re the WWE, who have exclusive contracts and still call their employees Independent Contractors so they don’t have to offer health insurance or a union], and indie guys contract people usually show-by-show. ALSO, there is intergender wrestling [men vs women, which does bother a lot of people. I do side with support of it, but I do totally get how it can be hard to watch] in indie shows, whereas there is NOT in 90% of the big companies.)

(And, honestly, if you wanna skip this part, you can, but if I don’t do it first, I’ll forget..)

AN OVERVIEW OF THE BIG PLAYERS

WWE - Here’s the thing. The WWE kinda... is a terrible capitalist bastard of a company, run by a morally bankrupt, egomaniacal, shitstain, roid-rage cryptkeeper of a man. And, if you want my personal opinion, RAW and Smackdown are both (currently) TERRIBLE shows, despite having some truly phenomenal talent. BUT, but. NXT (and NXT UK) is probably the best, like, weekly wrestling show (on TV, at least, but we’ll get there). The talent is INCREDIBLE, the storylines are less bad bananas, and they’ve adopted a LOT of the best indie talent lately (because they want to directly compete with AEW, but that’s a whole other thing). WWE programming is also the easiest to get a hold of because they are the longest running and basically Disney, so there are some full matches on YouTube, and Raw and NXT are available on Hulu. They are also releasing a lot of free stuff on the WWE Network that you can watch without signing up for a paid account, but there is a lot of stuff behind a pay wall.

Cons: Real Talk, run by a bunch of terrible people. Responsible for covering up a lot of truly reprehensible crimes for which no one was held accountable, despite being well documented. A blatant disregard for the (physical and mental) safety and/or financial security of a lot of their roster--specifically the people you don’t see on TV. (If you want some history, you can look through the past tweets of the New York 64 Tournament, but a lot of it turned my stomach, so I would not suggest, but it’s there if you have the same morbid curiosity that I did)

Pros: The company might be run by terrible people, but their roster is good. A lot of my top wrestlers do work for the WWE, sure, but they do hire a lot of decent humans that I sometimes feel bad about not supporting. Also, it is the dream of a lot of people to join WWE simply because of the prestige, the massive audience, and job security. I might hate Vince but I can’t begrudge any wrestler currently working for them.

NXT Pros: On the subject of rosters, NXT is LIT. But they have also stolen some of the best indie wrestlers recently: Mercedes Martinez and Jake Atlas, two of my All Time Favs. Both of whom deserve the world, because being openly gay in the wrestling industry is the pits.

All Elite Wrestling - AEW is a very new company, and they are my favourite of the big promotions. They are a company run by wrestlers, rather than a millionaire with a writing staff. I like the wrestling style(s) better, I was a huge fan of a lot of their roster before they hit TV last October, and I like not giving the McMahons money. The storylines are better, if only because they don’t have a writer’s room dictating scripts and such, and the characters are more fun (for me at least).

Easiest ways to watch for free: Their YouTube channel! There you can find a lot of highlights, behind the scenes, AEW Dark (the “dark” matches, or the non-televised matches from TV tapings), PPV pre-shows and a lot of stupid stuff.

Cons: A bit of an issue offering equal match time to the women’s roster the way they SAID they would at the start. A bit more violent of a style as a lot of the wrestlers came up death match style wrestling, or are from Japan/wrestled in Japan and typically wrestle “strong style” (wrestling style with less theatrics and known for Real Real Strikes that Hurt A Lot), which some people can find off-putting. Also, they hired Jake Hager, who is a real piece of shit.

Pros: Have a wonderfully diverse roster. Orange Cassidy. Sonny Kiss. Good storytelling. Jake The Snake Roberts doing Hella Promos. The Dark Order, who we affectionately refer to as the Spooky Perverts. Chris Jericho yelling at a Drone, and Matt Hardy being a wizard. A bunch of wrestlers who are married to other wrestlers who work for WWE, and good jokes are made.

BUT THE BIGGEST PRO-AEW THING I CAN PROVIDE: NYLA FUCKING ROSE. They didn’t make her the first women’s champion like they should have, but they put her in the first championship match on the FIRST episode of the weekly show, Dynamite, and she is now the CURRENT women’s champion. I don’t wanna make a big deal, only it is a BIG DEAL, because Nyla Fucking Rose is the first openly transgender wrestler signed to a major promotion, and if you think I didn’t fucking CRY LIKE A CHILD when she won, you’re wrong. So, yeah, a NATIONALLY TELEVISED WRESTLING PROGRAM’S CURRENT WOMEN’S CHAMPION IS A TRANSGENDER, FIRST NATIONS WOMAN. NYLA. FUCKING. ROSE.

As of right now, AEW seems to be done filming, which is both Very Smart and also heartbreaking, but you can find all the ways to watch over here on their site if it looks like fun!

WOW Women of Wrestling - Have you seen GLOW? This is a show created by the IRL creator of GLOW (the promotion the show is based on, not the show)! And it is? Incredible? The characters are fun and portrayed as superheroes, the stories are CAMP af, and the wrestling is GOOD. They’re a non-traditional show, which is fun. Their roster is made up of wrestlers playing different wrestlers. Wrestling is a bunch of super talented people playing characters while doing acrobatics. WOW gives us people playing characters, playing other characters, while also doing acrobatics.

Cons: All male announce team? On an all women’s show? Excuse? And also: Tessa Blanchard who is, it turns out, a great big racist. Also a little harder to get full episodes it seems.

Pros: Literally everything else.

Ring of Honor - For awhile ROH was handily competing with WWE. And then they weren’t. And then they got better. And then they got worse. And now, currently, they are a company that I hate supporting.

Cons: Run by assholes who don’t care about worker safety, and don’t put anything into the women’s division.

Pros: Sometimes they partner with New Japan Pro Wrestling. They’ve recently released a lot of goooood old matches including some Kevin Steen (currently WWE’s Kevin Owens) vs El Generico (definitely, 100% not at all, no way, no how, of course NOT WWE’s Sami Zayn [he is, this is another inside baseball joke that I’m just obligated to make every time I mention El Generico]) matches which are BRUTAL. Oh, and Dalton Castle:

Impact! - It’s back! I don’t watch it, but they DO have Rich Swann, so they can’t be bad. There is an entire history to Impact that is BANANAS. Like AEW, a bit more rough and tumble, scrappy death match folks, and I like a lot of the roster, like Taya Valkyrie, Jessika Havok and Sami Callihan. Not a bad show, but the full show weekly doesn’t hold my attention.

Cons: Tessa Blanchard, mostly. She is an incredible wrestler, her matches are good, but.

Pros: Pretty easy to watch, actually? I believe they’re still on Twitch, and they have an entire channel on Pluto TV.

New Japan Pro Wrestling - NJPW is GREAT. Definitely not everyone’s cup of tea. The shows are long, and strong style just... hurts. Like, a lot of wincing on my end. But the wrestling. Oh, lordy, the wrestling is incredible. But it is brutal. Strong Style wrestling is much different than the typical American style that you see in WWE, and a lot more grounded than high flying lucha styles. (Though a lot of wrestlers do travel to Mexico and train in lucha style wrestling (which I am the least familiar with), so currently there is a lot of the very high flying flippty dos and the absolutely brutal strikes that you see in strong style wrestling.)

Cons: Show/match length is typically long and there is A Lot to See. The only way I know to watch full shows is through their streaming service.

Pros: Just the whole thing, really. They release a free match on YouTube every Monday. Also, Toru Yano, the best wrestler in the world.

Indie Promotions that I know less about because I can afford only so many streaming services

Firstly, here is a Wiki list of wrestling streaming services. I’m gonna name a couple below, but the wiki page has a handy list of costs of the bigger ones because capitalism knows how to get you. (Personally, I only use IWTV at the moment. They’re a good company run by good people, and a lot of indie promotions would have died out without partnering with/support from them)

Beyond Wrestling - Beyond is My Favourite Promotion To Watch, Bar None. Their weekly show (when in season), Uncharted Territory, is fantastic. Diverse talent, diverse styles. They do have a lot of death matches, which can suck to watch if you aren’t into that sort of thing. I am, it turns out, into that sort of thing. But listening to interviews with a lot of death match wrestlers, specifically Jimmy Havoc, can help understand the w h y of it all! Available on IWTV.

Chikara - Chikara is So Fun! They are a (mostly) family friendly promotion and training school. Their shows are filled with young/newbie wrestlers as they learn the tricks. Run by Mike Quackenbush, who is a delightful person, BRILLIANT wrestler/trainer, and someone who is willing to take the safety of his people into account. He’s good people, who trains good people, and supports good people, and gives them a safe, open place to learn. It’s also very fun! A lot of comedy matches. Watch on: CHIKARAtopia or some of their archive is on IWTV.

EVE - An all-women promotion, providing a safe working and training environment for women and girls. They have put their foot in it on occasion, but they seem to still be good people. (I would recommend the Tights & Fights episode with founders Emily and Dann Read for a little backstory on the company, but not needed.) Ways to watch.

RIPTIDE - YO, RIPTIDE IS DOING THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SHIT. Cinematic wrestling, and it is great. The matches are good, the promos are good, the people are good. But the way they film it oh my god holy shit. When everything is a little less hectic, they are people I am definitely gonna support as much as I can. Watch here.

A Matter of Pride - Here’s the thing. They have put on some very good, inclusive shows. However, some serious allegations have come out about Rick Cataldo, who is involved with the company, and I think it’s important to mention. They have done a lot of good in the world of prowrestling and they put on good shows and they have given a platform to people who might otherwise have been pushed aside, however bad things have still happened there. Watchable on YouTube.

OTHER NOTABLE INDIE COMPANIES

GCW (IWTV, Fite TV & Smartmark) * Black Label Pro (IWTV) * Prime Time Pro Wrestling (IWTV) * Uncanny Attractions * RISE (IWTV) * Bar Wrestling * PWG * Stardom * Bizarro Lucha (IWTV) * OTT

There is also NWA Power that is a good show on YouTube, however, they immediately hired (and now fired for being racist) Jim Cornette who is... just an absolute jackass. But I do feel I should mention them.

Is that over? Yes? Well..

NOW THE FUN PART. THIS IS MY MOMENT. THIS IS THE ONLY PART THAT REALLY MATTERS.

So. The thing is. Wrestling is A Lot. SO, I’m gonna give you as wide a variety as I can! I’ll point out some fun people, some fun gimmicks and HOPEFULLY won’t completely turn you off! If you enjoy any of these, then the dumb stuff up above is useful!

First! The most important wrestling match of All Time. Invisible Man vs Invisible Stan. This is everything you need to know about the beats of good wrestling, but also why wrestling is fun. There are two people in this match: Referee Bryce Remsburg and the audience. And that’s it. This is literally just a referee (but it’s Bryce, so the referee) miming a wrestling match, and an audience buying into the kayfabe wholeheartedly. (Inside baseball: Bad Boy Vision - “Bad Boy” Joey Janela’s [another wrestler] sunglasses)

One of my favourite matches in recent memory, AND one of the best matches sort of just in general! David Starr vs Jordan Devlin at OTT. Quintessential wrestling, fantastic storytelling, and one of the best promo packages I’ve ever seen. BONUS: David Starr is a GREAT human fighting day and night to unionize the wrestling industry. He’s the Bernie Sanders of professional wrestling.

I thought about putting an actual death match on the list, but the closest I will get is this Nick Gage vs Josh Briggs fans bring the weapons match. I chose this match because my very best friend does not like this style of wrestling at all, but he did enjoy this match. It’s a lot, obviously. But it’s not as bad as it could be, but there’s also no shame if it isn’t your thing. Hell, I don’t even know why it’s my thing! I don’t even like bloody horror movies! I will say that Nick Fuckin’ Gage is one of the most prolific death match guys still working today, and also one of the nicest, kindest, most beloved guys there is and I would die to protect him. MDK!

Okay, this is the single most beautiful match to exist. Cara Noir vs PAC (fka WWE’s Neville). This isn’t wrestling, this is art. Great story, no commentary, gorgeous camerawork. Bonus: Cara Noir has the most fantastic and well rounded gimmick (character) in the business. Have you seen Black Swan? That’s it. That’s his character. And it’s great. Nailed. It.

Oh, did you know David Arquette is a wrestler? HE IS! Here’s he and RJ City.

On the subject of WWE and NXT, this Halftime Heat match of Aleister Black, Ricochet & Velveteen Dream vs Johnny Gargano, Adam Cole & Tommaso Ciampa. These are six of the best wrestlers work, and definitely TOPS in the WWE system. SEE ALSO: Black & Dream put on a HELL of a program together at NXT, but it’s been boiled down to this highlight vid that gives me feelings. Gargano vs Andrade Cien Almas is one of THE BEST matches of all time and here is a shitty highlight reel, but it’s still good. Adam Cole is 1) incredible and 2) the prettiest possum in the Denny’s dumpster, have a Cole vs Finn Balor highlight reel. God, I wish it were easier to find WWE stuff on YouTube.. All these matches should be on Hulu, tho.

NEXT! Kris Statlander vs Davienne for Beyond. Kris Statlander is A Legend, despite being real new to the business. Currently wrestling for AEW, former stuntwoman and, most importantly, she’s an alien.

FREE FOR ALL TIME. Solo Darling vs Penelope Ford vs Veda Scott vs Ashley Vox. They didn’t have to go that hard, but they did.

SPEAKING OF. Kylie Rae, Penelope Ford, Kimber Lee & Skylar vs. Shotzi Blackheart, Harlow &Twisted Sisterz. I just? I love? All of them?

And not to mention Kris Statlander vs Priscilla Kelly. I mean, I mean. I cannot sing the praises of both of these women enough.

Okay, so I am really only passingly familiar with a lot of Japanese wrestling. Mostly got into it last summer, actually. I get it, I love it, but I’m not as well versed in the people involved. Two badasses I do know? Meiko Satomura vs Kana (WWE’s Asuka). Fucking legends, both of them. Hard hitters, too, jesus.

If you do get into NXT at all, Keith Lee and Donovan Dijak put on one fuck of a program together, but the story started long before they ever entered the WWE! Please enjoy this absolute hoss fight from a couple years back.

NOW, some intergender matches! If you think they aren’t your thing, feel free to skip!

A fun match of (current IRL romantic partners) Keith Lee vs Mia Yim from before either of them debuted at NXT. I believe they weren’t dating at this point, so the next part will really hit, cuz it’s romantic as shit... This was not the booked ending. Keith Lee didn’t kick out on purpose. (Which, I mean, is literally all wrestling endings, but.) Mia was booked to lose (at least they told her that), and he purposefully took the L and went out on his back, to surprise her and give her a MASSIVE push.

Leyla Hirsch vs David Starr. I just. I goddamn love Leyla Hirsch. A very young wrestler, very new to the industry and I just love her so much?

Two great, intense matches of Joey Janela, the patron saint of bad decisions. Versus Kris Statlander (I can’t get enough of her) and versus Jordynne Grace.

Orange Cassidy and Penelope Ford vs Shockwave and Veda Scott. Shockwave is a robot and Orange Cassidy is Paul Rudd in Wet Hot American Summer. I can give no other explanation.

COMEDY TIME, YO. Comedy wrestling is The Best. There’s a name, Orange Cassidy. Yeah, he’s very funny, and also the most divisive person in wrestling rn. He’s Paul Rudd. He knows he’s a wrestler. He’s lazy. And there’s one match that we need to get out of the way first...

Orange Cassidy vs David Starr. The thing is. Orange Cassidy can fucking wrestle. His gimmick might be that he doesn’t want to, but he can. And It. Is. Great.

Now we can get on with the funnies.

Orange Cassidy vs Colt Cabana. Not story needed. Just two dudes at a food festival. Oh, yeah, there’s also a Swamp Monster. We love Swampy.

Colt Cabana vs Toru Yano. It’s just. So. FUN.

You might know the name Joey Ryan as The Dick Flip Wrestler, or The King of Dong Style. His dick has magical powers, it’s a thing. Here’s he and Orange Cassidy.

Johnny Cockstrong is the opposite of Joey Ryan. Literally. Here’s him also vs Orange Cassidy.

Did you want to see a Dick Test of Strength between them? Well, it happened.

Back to RIPTIDE for (another intergender, kinda) Pete Dunne, Tyler Bate & Trent Seven vs Joey Ryan, Candice LeRae (the World’s Cutest Tag Team) & Colt Cabana.

Kinda almost but not really comedy but very funny and also full of good wrasslin’, here is EFFY vs Orange Cassidy. Pirated, technically, and in real low quality, but I Love It. EFFY is Daddy.

Now, you’ll notice not a lot of women in the comedy section. Real talk, women still tend to get treated as a joke by the wrestling industry at large, so they don’t get the luxury of being as funny as they want. But one woman out there doing the lord’s work is Session Moth Martina. Legend. Love her. Admittedly, another intergender match, but it makes me happy. Martina & Orange Cassidy vs Joey Janela & Penelope Ford (Janelope).

One of my All Time Favourite Matches to date, EFFY and Danhausen (Gaytanic Panic) vs Chris Dickinson and Pinkie Sanchez (Team Pazuzu). Yes, this is a Halloween show. Yes, the Ref IS dressed as Chris Dickinson. There are teeth, Jesus resurrects someone, Danhausen is in fishnets and Effy is in face paint. It’s great. Love that Danhausen.

And there we have it! A whole lot of information and a bunch of matches and some stuff. It’s real dumb, and sometimes the industry is dark, but there’s a lot of hella good people doing dumb things. I hope this was helpful?? And Fun! (But my feeling won’t be hurt if it wasn’t fun, I promise!)

I leave you with this, RJ City making coffee in his underwear with Danhausen. Completely out of context. Because I love it.

[planetsam]

Malex! Alex & Rath

The war takes everything.

It’s a miracle they get to the point of peace discussions at all. For most of his adult life Alex has lived in the war. It started with people he thought he knew summoning a force he couldn’t understand. That night changed everyone’s lives. The medals on his chest often feel more like blood money than honors. They’re stained, tainted. Like his father loves to remind him he is. The loss of his leg sometimes feels like a penance. When the orders come that he will be involved in this desperate negotiation for peace, Alex thinks he knows why. But he doesn’t have it in him to refuse. Which is how he finds himself on the Antarian ship. The doors slide open soundlessly as he is escorted into the room, trying to remember every negotiating tactic he ever learned. He’s barely inside with time to strategize when another set of doors open and the Antarian general walks in.

Just like that, he’s seventeen, again, in an instant.

Michael doesn’t look the same and at the same time he does. He wears the Antar military uniform with much more obvious discomfort. Or maybe Alex is just able to read him still. The curls are the same. The scruff is new. He’s still lean where as Michael is stockier but in a way that makes Alex think they’d be matched if he still had both his legs. The pair of them regard each other, both realizing exactly what this is.

“General Rath,” Alex greets with all the formality he can muster for an alien who he made out with in a museum about aliens once upon a time.

“Hey Alex,” Michael drawls like they aren’t on opposite sides of a fucking war, “long time no see. You been busy?”

Fine. He can do this.

“Not as busy as you,” he says, “I’m not a General.”

“Genetics,” Michael says and doesn’t elaborate, “look at you making your daddy proud.”

Alex rolls his eyes at the jab.

“Your last air raid missed him by half a mile,” he says.

“Too bad,” Michael replies, smiling in a way that does not make Alex’s stomach flip flop, “lets get this parent trap shit over with and save your planet,” he says nodding to the table.

Alex sits as smoothly as he can but he’s not great with the prosthetic when he’s trying to hide it. Antarian’s are supposed to have unparalleled healing. But when he glances at Michael’s hand, he sees it’s still mangled and twisted. When he looks up he sees Michael watching him. Alex gives him a questioning look and Michael shrugs.

“Chicks dig scars,” he drawls and Alex agrees with him suddenly.

They need to get this over with.

As fast as possible.

“What the hell, Max?!”

Max waves off the court and clears the room. He still thinks of himself as Max but only two people on the planet call him that. That number is about to be cut in half if the look on Michael’s face is anything to go by. Michael is either going to kill him or never speak to him again. Max holds still and waits for the fury to hit him.

“Alex?!” He demands, “you sent me to negotiate with him?”

“It was my idea,” Isobel says breezing in.

“What the hell, Iz?!” Michael continues, turning towards her.

There’s always been something more polished about her and she’s slid more easily into royal life than any of them. Max has followed but then again, maybe looking emotionally constipated is half the job anyway. Michael’s seen those royals from England. And lastly there’s him. He’s hated earth his entire life, was planning a way to get off the planet when they got found. So there’s an almost vicious irony to him being the one whose has the hardest time adjusting. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Jesse Manes has made him loathe everything the military stands for and he’s come to a planet where he’s some kind of genetically bred super solider.

“What’s the point of peace if you’re miserable on both worlds?” She asks and Michael rolls his eyes. Of course she would equate two worlds with something as stupid as his happiness.

“I don’t know, Iz, millions of lives?”

“Motivation,” she says.

“How were we engaged again?” He demands.

“Dumb luck,” Isobel says, “can’t be so lucky every lifetime.”

“General Rath,” Alex greets. Michael scowls  before smoothing it over with a grin he wants to kiss off his face, “I hope you don’t find this inconveniencing.”

“Not at all, Colonel Manes” Michael says, “i hope you don’t mind holding my hand in public.”

Alex bits back the urge to reply. The photo-op is important and security is tight. As a show even the Antarians are going through the metal detector. Alex thinks it’s ridiculous but he gets the optics. The general public doesn’t know about the Evans’ family vacation to italy that one summer or Michael’s dizzying array of foster homes he’d flown between. Michael nods towards the sign.

“Don’t forget to take out your keys.”

“I’m not going to forge—“ Alex cuts off before he fully replies. Michael does not get to get under his skin like this so easily. The guard waves him through and the thing goes off. He hears Michael chuckle and wishes very badly he was right. “I have a prosthetic,” he says to the guard and feels the tension ramp up.

“I need to scan it,” he says and Alex nods, remembering the world is at stake. He takes the chair and releases the vacuum seal, sliding the leg off with a metallic click. The guard takes it and Alex fights for as long as he can until he meets Michael’s gaze, “sir—“

He’s apparently alone in his care about the world because Michael crosses the detector and comes in front of him.

“When?” He demands and Alex is surprised at the fury in his voice.

“A few years back,” he says, looking to see if they’ve established his prosthetic is not a weapon, “we’re in a war,” he reminds Michael who looks at his leg like they’re kids again and he wants to hurt whoever hurt him. Alex sees the metal detector tremble and thinks of the lives that hand in the balance, “Michael! I’m fine.”

Michael snaps towards him and Alex meets his gaze, trying to convey how fine he is. They need this more than Michael needs to lose it. Michael slowly seems to come back to himself and when they look, the guards are all staring. Michael draws himself up and fixes Alex with the coldest look he’s ever been on the receiving end of. He’s doing it for him, but it still takes Alex’s breath away in the worst way possible.

“I don’t know that name anymore. It’d Rath.”

“Sorry, General,” Alex says instead and accepts his prosthetic back.

They shake hands in front of the cameras, both their mangled and missing parts tucked away.

“You look good!” Liz says, “I mean, you look like you want to die but otherwise—“

“Thanks,” Michael says sarcastically.

“How is he?” Liz asks after a moment.

“I haven’t seen Max,” he says instead of answering. Liz makes a noise, “he’s fine. I’m sure they’re all fine.”

“Alex you know that’s bullshit.”

Sometimes Alex hates how smart Liz is. And how perceptive. Her denial of her feelings is a protection, one she’s fully aware of and seems to be able to flick on and off like its a fucking light switch. Alex feels like his got shut off and he lost it somewhere in the dark. There’s a disconnect. He can’t even blame it on the war. It’s been going on for much much longer than that. War has just made it matter less.

“He saw my leg,” he admits, “he got mad.”

“Of course he got upset,” Liz says.

“He should have thought about that before we were at war,” Alex argues even though he knows thats not fair. Liz does too. “Anyway thats not why I called. We’re supposed to do something and theres a chance Max will be there. Misery loves company, so, you wanna come? Can you behave?”

“Yes and yes,” she says.

“General Rath,” Alex greets, “you remember Liz?”

“Colonel Manes.”

Michael nods but his expression is hard. Alex feels smug at throwing him off his game, right until Max shows up. Every inch of him that’s a king falls apart and its like looking at the sixteen year old dumbass who thought that a backwards baseball cap was a fashion statement.

“Liz,” he says her name almost reverently.

She slaps him across the face.

“Oh shit,” Michael says.

Alex wonders if he’s just ended the world.

In the end he hasn’t but its a near thing. He knows in his gut he’s not the guy for this. When they’re done he wants to leave but Liz has backed King Zan into an antechamber and he isn’t leaving her behind. Michael drops into the chair next to him, still laughing.

“This is great,” he says, “good move bringing her here. You guys might come out of this on top after all.”

“I’m resigning,” he says, looking at Michael.

Michael stares at him.

“What? Why?” Michael demands.

“I can’t do this,” he says, “it’s all of earth. They need someone level.”

Liz appears and Alex thanks god for her timing. He looks at Michael who seems so dumbstruck he can’t figure out what to say. It’s not how Alex wants to leave him speechless but he’s been a coward with him before. So he gets to his feet and does the bravest thing he can.

“Goodbye,” he says.

It tastes like ash.

“I’m coming!” Alex snarls through the wood.

Michael wants to tell him to hurry the fuck up but he’s not going to open the door if he sees him. He’s done is best military style knock in the hopes Alex won’t look. The door opens.

“Wha-“ Alex stops. Emotions fly across his face. He settles on that emotionally constipated look he’s tried to maintain this whole time, “what are you doing here?” He steps aside though and Michael enters.

“Why are you resigning?” He challenges. Alex looks away, “it’s just us in here Alex,” he says, maybe a bit louder than he intends.

“Yeah that’s the problem,” Alex says, “out there, it’s not just us. I can’t negotiate with you.”

“Why not?” Michael presses. Alex looks away, “hmmmm?” Michael says, moving into his space. Alex doesn’t step back, he glares at him.

“Because I look at you and I’m seventeen again!” He says, “and then you look away. And I remember everything, like it’s the first time it’s happening. I can’t think around you. I can’t do my job,” he says, “and if you don’t remember that earth was your planet too, then someone has to step in who isn’t distracted by their feelings.”

Michael can’t puzzle through this. He knows Alex has feelings for him. Loving each other has never been the problem. His fingers ache in a reminder and Alex’s eyes drag towards the hand. Fuck this, Michael thinks viciously and shoves it between them.

“Your dad took my hand, someone from my side took your leg. You want to say we’re even?” Alex scoffs, “I never looked away,” he says, “not really.”

“Bullshit,” Alex says, “you took off for another planet.”

“You took off for war!”

“I didn’t want to go!” Alex suddenly matches his tone. Michael freezes, something cold in him, “you did.”

Michael can’t argue. He did. He wanted to get out of that town, off that planet. He can’t blame his failed whatever with Alex as the sole reason but he can’t pretend it wasn’t a factor. But Alex is Alex and if he tells him that he’ll blame himself for the whole damn war. Instead he takes the accusation and steps up to Alex. Alex regards him like a skittish animal but doesn’t run. Even if this is his room. Michael refuses to linger at that when Alex’s impossibly long lashes lower. It’s been a decade but Michael knows what he’s doing and before he can overthink it, he cups Alex’s face and kisses him.

Alex stiffens and then melts into the kiss. Michael’s glad he snuck away, glad he’s in normal clothes. No, not normal. Earth clothes. Because then instead of dealing with his Antarian clothes Alex can slips his hands under his shirt. Michael hates touching him with his twisted hand. But even that doesn’t seem to matter when Alex makes a noise in the back of his throat and Michael deepens the kiss like he can taste it. They fumble back to the bed Alex lays back as Michael pulls his shirt off. Their bodies are different, he can see the scars that litter Alex’s skin. Antar has healing and he’s whole on the outside, fine except for the scars that earth left on him. Alex cants his hips up and Michael throws caution to the wind.

He kisses every mark, hoping that his desperate desire for Alex to stay will pass through his skin.

He’s too much of a coward to say it again.

“This was your idea,” he tells Isobel when he gets back to their ship. Her first move is to grab the bag he’s holding and pour the acetone down the sink, “damn it!”

“Need you to be on your A-Game,” is her excuse.

“Yeah, well, I need to be drunk,” he snaps, “you shouldn’t have put me and Alex together.”

“You two did that all on your own,” she says, “I already denied his request to be transferred,” she swipes a hand through his curls, “or did you convince him to stay?”

Her guess is as good as his.

“General,” Alex says.

“Colonel.”

He can do this. Alex has never had to work with someone he’s slept with before. He’s not sure how anyone does this. And okay maybe he and Michael did it as teenagers but that was ten years ago. And it was before the world even knew that there was intelligent life out there. Isobel had suitors who she considered beneath her and Max was always sweet on Liz. Alex has a very sneaking he and Michael slept together first. He may have lost his virginity in the ultimate out of this world experience. He’s like the dirty equivalent of Neal Armstrong. He clears his throat as Michael sits down. He looks surprised that he’s still there. No, Alex realizes, he looks guilty.

“Princess Vilandra  seems to feel I’m best suited for the job. Or so my superiors told me,” he says. Michael at least has the grace to blush, “I guess she still can’t resist meddling.”

“Hey, she doesn’t meddle,” Michael says, “she outright gets involved. Give her some credit.”

Alex snorts in disbelief and Michael chuckles. There’s something familiar about it that makes Alex’s heart ache. He forces that feeling back. That, at least, he’s good at. Lingering for a second too long used to get him questioned and mocked until he proved himself. Though the truth is the guys he felt things for were nothing compared to what he’s always felt for Michael. They catch each others eyes and smooth out their expressions, focusing instead on the last few items for the treaty. It’s the first step in many but it’s a first step. Alex was shipped to war without wanting to go, but he likes protecting people. Likes helping them. He always has. Long before Michael kissed him in the museum that had his family artifacts on display.  The items on this treaty take longer than the others. Alex caves after a few hours.

“I need food,” he says, “you hungry?”

“Starving,” Michael admits.

“Great, what do you want?” Michael does a double take, “you miss something in particular? I’m not picky.”

You, Michael thinks, then puts the thought aside.

“Wings?”

They get wings and Michael wants to keel over with how good they are. He’s always loved spicy food. Or convinced himself of it after he learned if food was hot, other people didn’t want it as much. Alex gets beers too and Michael can almost pretend this is what college could have been like if things had gone differently. If he’d taken the scholarship. If the three of them doing something as terrible as burning those bodies hadn’t sent out that beacon.

If they hadn’t led the man who killed them the first time straight to earth.

It’s been ten years of pretending to be something they’re not to take power back. With Isobel at the center of it. He’s got no right to complain about things with what she’s sacrificed. And on the other side it���s Alex and what he’s sacrificed. One of his foster parents told him that all Michael knew how to do was take. Michael knows the guy was a drunk but the words still burned into him. Especially when he sees Alex with hot sauce on his lip laughing one moment and shifting his weight with a flash of discomfort the next. His own hand aches but Michael’s pretty sure that’s in his head.

“What do they eat over there?” Alex asks abruptly.

“Acetone,” Michael lies. Alex’s eyes narrow, “I’m kidding. It’s similar,” he says, trying to think of how to put it, “but different.”

“Descriptive,” Alex says dryly.

“Look, next time I’ll bring something,” he says, “you can try it for yourself.”

“In the meantime come here,” Alex says, “you’ve got hot sauce on your lip.”

He wipes it off with his thumb and Michael understands Max a whole lot better.

Next time turns out to be months later.

They do a good job and then there’s all the god damn red tape that makes Alex’s head hurt. It’s not like Max is going to put up a fight on anything really. Or King Zan. Alex cannot contact the General without risking everything so he doesn’t. The next time he sees him is at the formal signing. Which means everyone is in formal wear. He’s never felt awkward in his uniform. Despite what led him here, he is proud of the lives he’s saved and the service he’s given. He can stand up there with royalty from another planet he just happened to go to high school with.

Michael on the other hand looks like he wants to die.

It’s clear for his genetic breeding or whatever, he’s nervous. The Antarian formalwear is a lot of draping and elegance that doesn’t seem to have much to do with the military, aside from the braided chords that loop around his shoulder. He’s wearing gloves too and Alex finds he wishes that he could see his hand again. Unable to let Michael pace there miserably, he steps forward. Michael whips around at the sound and stares at him like he’s drowning and Alex is the life saving breath of air. His throat is visibly working. Alex might slightly enjoy the sight of him being flustered, something that seems to occur to him because he straightens up. Alex still has a good inch on him in the height department though.

“General Rath,” he greets, reminding himself of their roles.

“General Manes,” he greets back.

Alex might be slightly proud of the title. If nothing else it isn’t one he has to share with his father or grandfather. He is the first General Manes. He looks at Michael who shifts his weight. The cloth he wears shimmers in the light, reminding Alex of those glass shards that were in the museum. The ones that all snapped together the night before the aliens came.

“Nervous?” Alex asks.

“Never,” Michael says, throwing him that macho cowboy swagger smile. Alex might hate him a little for it, “you ready for this?”

“I’m used to the photo ops by now,” Alex lies with a tight smile. He’s better, but the spotlight has never suited him.

“Great, let’s go.”

Before he can ask why Michael looks nervous they’re in front of people. A lot of people. Alex stands straight and schools his expression while Michael waves to the crowd. The sheer number of people this is being televised to is dizzying. Alex fully expects things to go wrong but they don’t. The only wrongness is his anonymity being ripped to shreds. It’s a worthy sacrifice for this, but that doesn’t make it less gut wrenching as he and Michael stand and observe the proceedings. Hardest to bear is Michael’s gaze which keeps flicking towards him. Like he knows this is hard for Alex. Alex stands straighter if possible. He doesn’t want Michael’s—Rath’s—pity. The treaties are signed and ratified and Alex knows now it’s just a matter of full disarming. Fully withdrawing.

“You’re returning to Antar,” he says.

“Yeah, Of course we are,” Rath tells him, “can’t have peace with the aliens running around.”

This hits him like a ton of bricks. Even though he knows what’s in the treaty, the idea of Rath being a universe away is like a gut punch. It’s what he’s always wanted. Maybe now he can have it and find some peace. Alex forces himself to clutch the idea like a hot iron. If he holds it maybe he can cauterize the wound. He grips the pain as he goes through the more formal interactions, desperate to be the one to put a galaxy between them for once. No such luck as General Rath catches up to him eventually. Alex realizes that his work here is done. Which means this isn’t about Generals or anything it’s about General Rath who has the same mop of curls and him who doesn’t even have two legs.

“Alex—“

“I gotta go,” he says.

General Rath freezes.

“Yeah I, uh, I gotta go,” he says again, “we saved the world and—“

“You gotta go,” Rath repeats repeats.

Alex nods.

Michael ignores the feelings that sledgehammer into him. Of course Alex has to bolt. Michael could be a General or he could be God but somehow it will always come back to being unworthy of Alex. By now he doesn’t know why it hurts. Yes, he does, it hurts because he’s an idiot whose still carrying a torch for a man who can’t be around him except under very specific circumstances. Circumstances that don’t benefit a General, let alone two of them. So he does the only thing he can and sticks his hand out. Alex grips it and God help him, Michael can’t resist kissing his knuckles just once. Alex stares just at him but Michael’s sure he’s clocked the room for whose watching.

“Pleasure negotiating with you, General Manes,” he says.

“Goodbye, Michael,” Alex replies and Michael watches as he leaves.

“Did you ask him?” Isobel demands coming up to him. Michael watches the corner Alex vanished around, “Michael—“

“This is his planet,” he says, looking at her. Isobel is not thrilled with his answer, “he’s not coming.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she says.

“Just drop it,” he says, “please.”

“Michael—“

“He’s not coming, Iz,” he says, looking at her, “can you please drop it?” Something in him feels broken, “and my name’s Rath.”

She stares at him and Michael glares back. He doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy or pity. Especially not from family or from Alex. Deep in his pocket the alien charm he fashioned seems to throb in time with the ache being pumped through his chest. Maybe this is what dying feels like. He straightens up and takes his fingers from it. It’s not going to transport Alex anywhere, least of all to him.

“Let’s go,” he says, “the sooner we get home the better.”

[the-angry-pixie]

So have you come up with any risque Byeler hcs lately?

Kind of.

The other day I was thinking about how Mike would totally be the sort of dork to call or go talk to Will right after he loses his virginity.

Like its senior year, him and his girlfriend have been going steady for awhile and they’ve just had sex in his car down at Lovers Lake.

But as soon as he drops the girl back off at her house, he suddenly feels this overwhelming urge to talk to someone about what just happened. This is HUGE. He’s so hyped. He just HAS TO share! Now he could go to Dustin or Lucas, both of whom have already lost their V-card. They would highfive and congratulate him and it would all be swell. But he doesn’t do that. For some reason the only person he wants to tell about this is Will.

And so he drives right over there and knocks on his window. Will is surprised to see him, but he’s never denied his friend entry to his house before and he’s not about to start now.

[below is what was meant to be a HC post, but somehow ended up as a story. and yes, there is some risque stuff throughout so don’t read if thats not your thing]

“So, I got to fourth base with Angie.”

“Mike, I really don’t know much about baseball but I’m pretty sure there isn’t a fourth base.”

“Oh yes there is.”

“No there isn’t. There’s third base and then there is home.”

“Exactly.”

And for some reason Mike really enjoys seeing the penny drop and watching as it translates onto Will’s face.

“Wait… wait home. You got to home base with Angie?! Like… you went all the way?!”

“Yup!” Mike is practically beaming. He hasn’t even sat down. He’s still too jittery. Watching Will as he stares down at his desk, kinda looking stunned. But then he looks up and his face is completely different and Mike doesn’t quite know how to interpret it.

“Wow uh… well congrats man! That’s great!” 

“Thanks.” Mike can’t help kind of feeling bashful. He knows Will is still a virgin, so he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly got all these nerves tingling through his body.

“How um… how was it?”

“Warm and… wet and… tight…”

Mike can’t help laughing as he watches Will scrunch his face up in disgust. 

“Wish I hadn’t asked…” Will does a full body shudder, as though trying to rid himself of Mike’s words. Which only makes Mike laugh harder though he tries to muffle it with his hands.

“Sorry. I meant nice. It was nice.”

Will seems to level out after that. He fixes Mike with a look, and then eventually rises from his desk chair to walk over to where Mike is standing there fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.

“I’m happy for you man. Well… well done?” it comes out as sort of a question as he reaches out and awkwardly claps his hand against the back of Mike’s neck a few times. Like the football coach does to the players he’s pleased with. Its such an odd gesture coming from Will that they can only hold it together for so long before they both break down into sniggers.

That cracks apart the tension and Mike mumbles ‘thanks’ as they share a brief hug. 

“Oh ew. I can smell it on you! You smell like sex! Didn’t you shower before coming to see me?” 

Mike is coming to love this hilarious disgusted face that keeps popping up on Will’s face. 

“Nope” he grins. “I just had to come tell my best-friend-forever straight away!”

“You’re weird Wheeler. Does Angie know how weird you are?”

“Nope. And you better not tell her. Otherwise she’ll never have sex with me again!” Mike says jokingly poking at Will’s sides.

“You would deserve it for making me smell your damn sex musk. Get away from me you filthy heterosexual!”

This of course quickly dissolves into a game of Mike chasing Will around his room. Just for the fun of it. Just to razz him. He’s glad he came to Will. He made the right choice. 

Finally they both collapse onto Will’s bed. Mike being banished to the foot of it where he sits cross-legged next to Will’s feet.

“So do you feel different now? Do you feel like a maaan?” Will teases with a derivative snort.

Mike chuckles too. 

“I know its stupid but yeah I do. Feel different that is. It just feels good to have it done now. No more waiting, no more worrying about how it will be. I managed to not fuck it up I think. Angie was smiling when I dropped her off. Sooo yeah. I feel different.”

“Oh. Right. Huh…”

Mike looks over at Will, trying to decipher his expression. He’s currently looking down at the hands in his lap. A charming pink peaking through on the apples of his cheeks. He would probably kill Mike for suggesting it, but he almost looks wistful.

And suddenly Mike feels a queer pang in his chest. A desperate longing that was somehow not fully his own. It was weird - like an empathy thing. 

Suddenly Mike found himself sympathising with how hard it must be, being the only gay kid living in such a small town. With people and society being the way they currently are. 

Unless something outrageous happened, Mike figured Will probably wouldn’t be  experiencing anything like what he’d done tonight for a long, long time. 

And that thought made him kind of sad.

Life goes on and Mike forgets all about that night. He remembers the sex of course. Not the conversation that followed. 

Never in a million years would Mike have imagined that the favour would be returned though. That he would find himself on the receiving end of a conversation like that.

Which is why Mike is wholly unprepared for the phonecall he receives almost 2 years later from Will. 

Will, whose voice is practically vibrating with so much excitement that Mike almost doesn’t catch the part where his best friend tells him he’s just lost his virginity.

He just… doesn’t know how to react.

It’s Friday night. He had no plans and so was catching up on his assignments. He had just been considering going to bed when Will (one state over at his own college mind you) had apparently popped his cherry and… 

… decided he needed to tell Mike all about it??

“Mike? You’ve gone all quiet.”

“Yeah! Yeah I’m fine I’m just uhh… processing… why are you telling me this?”

There’s silence on the other end for awhile.

“Oh I… well its just… you told me when it happened for you… I know that was years ago and I know I’m a bit of a late bloomer but… well you told me so I thought I would… never mind it was stupid I should go.”

The aching awkwardness of his tone lanced through Mike.

“No don’t go! Shit I’d forgotten I’d done that! Man what a dork move. Not that you’re a dork! That came out wrong. I’m glad you told me! I’m happy for you! Yeah its uhh… well, how was it?”

Mike waited anxiously, hoping Will hadn’t been spooked away. Geez for someone majoring in English Lit he sure wasn’t good at picking his words sometimes. 

“It was– it was good.” Will’s voice had lost a lot of its previous exuberance and Mike wished he could personally kick himself in the mouth.

“C’mon Cleric you can do better than that! Details man, give me details!” he encouraged.

“What sort of details?” Will’s voice sounded wary but at least his tone seemed less halfhearted now.

Mike scrubbed a hand over his face, racking his brain for something to say. “Well heck I dunno. How about you tell me what its like on the other end of things? What’s it like being the girl?”

As soon as the words left his mouth Mike knew he had made a fatal mistake. 

“What?!” Will’s voice was completely flat and deeply unamused.

“Fuck. I shouldn’t have said tha–”

“I am not a fucking girl!”

“I know tha–” 

“Fuck you Mike!” The yelling stung at Mike’s sensitive ears and he wished a hole would just open up in his dorm room floor and swallow him up.

“I deserve that I’m sorry. Fuck I’m bad at this!”

“No fucking shit! What the fuck am I doing even talking to you about this?! I’m fucking hanging up right now!”

And Will did just that.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

Mike was wide awake now as he jumped out of his bed to pace the room. His hands scraping tensely through his hair.

Well he’d royally screwed the pooch on that one. 

Will sounded furious and Mike didn’t blame him. Why had he said that?! 

He knew he needed to talk to Will as soon as possible. But he also knew Will. He knew if he called back straight away Will would either ignore his calls, or worse, take his phone off the hook. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

He had to wait. He had to be patient.

But really, can he be blamed if maybe he was a little shocked and overwhelmed at this whole damn situation?! If maybe he doesn’t automatically know how to deal with the idea that some anonymous stranger has apparently just fucked his best friend?? 

Or maybe his best friend had fucked him? 

It didn’t matter. It was that sort of bullshit thinking that had gotten him in trouble in the first place! 

But fuck! He hadnt even known Will had been dating anyone!! 

That was the trouble with going to college in different states though. Mike knew he should have insisted on keeping Will close. He knew it was a ridiculous demand but he couldn’t help thinking it. 

Mike looked to the clock. 15 minutes had passed. Enough time for Will to have come down from his initial anger.

He quickly dialled the number, neurotically twisting the cord as he sat anxiously down on his bed.

“Will speaking.”

“Don’t hang up! I’m sorry! I know what I said was stupid!”

“Its okay Mike” Will’s voice sounded strangely small. Devastatingly quiet. “I dont know why I expected you to understand. I shouldnt have called you in the first place.”

“No!” Mike practically shouted. “No don’t make excuses for me being a complete ass! I’m so happy for you! I know I’ve kind of shown it in a shitty way but… I’m just glad you told me that’s all…”

“Ok…”

“And I’m sorry for being–”

“–weird and kind of offensive?”

“Yeah that. I’m sorry. Please forgive me?”

Silence. Enough to make Mike want to bite his fingernails off.

“Please Will! Pleeeease??”

“Weeeelllll….” Will’s tone was soft, but playfully considering. Mike knew his friend was coming around.

“Pwetty pweeease? With rainbows and sprinkles on top??” Mike cooed in a sickening baby-voice. 

“Rainbows? Sprinkles? Is that meant to be a gay thing?”

“No, thats a Mike thing.”

“Ok then. You’re forgiven.”

“YES!” Mike pumped his fist in the air to the sound of Will’s chuckles on the other end.

“But don’t be weird. I can’t deal with you being weird about this” Will’s voice scolded as his giggles subsided and his voice returned to normal.

“I’ll try. I promise.”

“Ok then.”

“Ok then.”

There was companionable silence for a beat or two. 

“So… who was the guy? Was he like… your boyfriend or something?”

“Boyfriend? Ha! Nah I’m way too shy to be able to get a boyfriend.”

“So you slept with a stranger?” Mike couldn’t help the worry seeping into his tone.

“No no. He wasn’t a stranger. We’ve hung out a couple of times before. And like, we’ve done some “stuff” together before. But he’s not like my boyfriend or anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Did you use protection?” 

“Of course! What do you think I’m an idiot!”

“I’m just checking since apparently you’re hooking up with people you hardly know like thats completely normal.”

Mike heard Will scoff. “Like you’ve never done that before Mike!” 

“Yeah but like… first times are special! They’re meant to be with someone you care about!”

“Says who?”

“Says… I dunno says everybody!”

“It doesn’t really work that way with gay people Mike.”

“Well it should! Was he at least like… nice to you. I mean did you like, enjoy it?!”

At this Will paused as though he were thinking and Mike found himself leaning forward, as though anticipating the answer. 

Luckily he wasn’t kept in suspense for long.

“Yeah I did. It was like, real intense and it hurt at first but I don’t know, I kind of liked that. He was kind of rough. I liked that too. He didn’t treat me like I was some fragile, delicate thing. It was kind of hot.”

“Oh… ok…” Mike didn’t really know what to say to that. It hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. Will kept speaking regardless.

“Yeah. It was good. I guess I’m a man now huh?” Will finished jokingly. Mike remembered how he’d teased him about it all those years ago.

“You were already a man Will” he murmured snappily and heard Will sigh on the other end. He knew Will thought Mike was being too precious with him. And he also knew how much his friend hated when he did that. But he couldn’t help it. This was Will. His Will.

“Anyway now thats done. I’m gonna go shower and go to bed. Sweet dreams Mike! Thanks for listening.”

“Uh, sure. Anytime.”

And they both hung up.

It becomes a thing. 

Mike isn’t quite sure how it starts but somehow it totally becomes a thing. 

Like it becomes completely normal for Mike and Will to talk to each other about their sexual encounters. 

The good, the bad, the very-very good and the ugly.

They even go out of their way to do it. Like a gossip session. Or a debrief. Or something.

Mike doesn’t even really know. But he learns things about his friend in that year that he’d never thought he would. Intimate things.

Gay sex sounds weird and interesting. At least the way Will flippantly describes it. Mike doesn’t know why he always expected Will to be the sort to settle down quickly with the one person but that is certainly not the case here. Hell Will seems to pull way more often than Mike does from the sound of it. Though Mike never really takes notice of the guys names, maybe there were double-ups in there. 

THE POINT IS, Will is kind of insouciant when it comes to sex. 

Not the sex itself. It seems he’s wildly enthusiastic when it comes to the actual act. Dare Mike say it, almost rowdy. 

But the partners… Will doesn’t seem to be bothered about his lack of boyfriend. Even though his shyness seems to have melted into a thing of the past. Whenever Mike questions him about it he always jokes that he’s waiting for Mike to propose to him and then maybe he’ll settle down. 

And that usually shuts the conversation down because Mike gets all bashful. Its probably why Will does it, the sly devil.

Mike supposes its a two-way street. Will learns a few things about him too in return. They’ve moved past calling each other as soon as “the act” is done now. They’re way too cool for that. Usually it comes up in the weekly phonecall they share. Mike has to admit it’s kind of fun to giggle away to each other like a couple of school girls. 

But on the whole Mike feels like his sex life… his heterosexual sex life at least… is kind of boring.

Cause well… theres something he hasn’t told Will yet.

There’s a small matter of Mike becoming a bit… curious within the last few months. 

How sometimes when Will casually describes fingering a guy… 

… or pushing their head down towards his asshole so they’ll eat him out… 

… or sliding balls deep inside such a tight channel… 

… or all manner of other acts you can only achieve with another guy… 

Somewhere along the line Mike had started to wonder what it would feel like.

Its not really something to freak out over right? So he’s tried fingering himself a few times in the shower and found that he likes it. That’s no big deal right?

So what if he’s maybe asked for a few more details than strictly necessary when Will is talking about fucking a guy so that its easier for him to picture later on when he’s jacking off. Its whatever man.

Buying a dildo is no big thing right? Going to a gay bar and making out with a few dudes isn’t worth telling Will about right?

Sometimes… sometimes imagining Will when he’s jacking off is to be expected right? Its only natural that Will would be his point of reference for imagining gay sex. He’s the one telling him all these salacious details. Giving him all these ideas.

So Mike can’t really be blamed for imagining Will can he? Its nothing. 

Wrong.

Its certainly something. 

Mike is a logical person. Someone who likes to plan ahead. To be in control. To understand everything around him.

But right now… he kind of feels like he’s on a train. He doesn’t know where the train is going but somehow he just knows that the tracks are eventually going to run out.  Just how much tracks there are left before he goes careening towards a bloody and spectacular finish, he does not know.

It’s not the most comforting thought.

The answer comes in 1991. 

Their second year of college. Spring break. Mike is finally going to visit Will at his college. Its all set. Will is staying in the dorm for the holidays while his roommate is headed home. There’s a spare bed in his room just going begging and Will believes its about damn time they spent some quality time together!

He’d actually said “quality FUCKING time together” but Mike is trying these days to not think too much about “Will” and “fucking” in the same sentence. 

Doing so makes his stomach churn and his head hot and his jeans tight. Its an affliction he really could do without.

And so… they spend quality time together. 

They eat shitty microwave food. They run riot in the practically empty dorm building. They go for walks and throw a frisbee back and forth. They watch movies. They turn their music up way too loud. They talk into the night, passing a bottle of rum back and forth. 

They ignore the tension that seems to be both there and not there at the same time. Mike tries not to think about how he sometimes catches Will just looking at him. An inscrutable look of consideration adorning his features. Like Mike is an abstract painting. 

They go out clubbing one night to one of Will’s locals. Mike tries not to seethe with jealousy into his cocktail when it looks like Will might go home with some guy that he seems to know suspiciously well.

It doesn’t happen though. Will returns to him at the bar. Mike still feels queerly deflated though. They have a few more drinks and then they head home.

“I wouldn’t have gone with him you know…” 

Will slurs only slightly. It’s later that night and Mike is sitting on his assigned bed applying moisturiser to his feet. His heels have a tendency to get really, really dry overnight.

Mike looks up and gives him a questioning glance.

“Benji” Will clarifies, “I wouldn’t have gone home with him. Not while you’re here. I just want to be with you when you’re here.” 

“Oh. Right. That’s good.” Mike smiles up at where his friend appears to be swaying to imaginary music, his fingers clutched around a glass of water.

Suddenly Will is bouncing down on the bed next to him.

“Ya know. You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous” Mike replies immediately. 

Water slops over the edge of the glass as Will holds both his hands up in surrender.

“Ok I retract. Sulky then. You’re cute when you’re sulky.”

Mike is blushing. He can’t help it. He should really be drinking water too. Blood and alcohol are pulsing through his veins, rendering his brain-to-mouth function slightly useless. Before he can think better of it he’s responding “You think I’m cute?”

Will seems to pause and look at him then. His lips curling into a impish smile as his head bobs up and down slowly in a nod.

Was it hot in here? It was as if Mike could feel the sweat pooling into the collar of his nightshirt as he plucks at it nervously.

“Truth be told…” Mike’s head whips back up as Will continues to muse. Irritatingly casual. He is looking at his glass of water as though its a snow globe. As though the precipitation beading on the outside of it is a thing of beauty. “… I think you’re fucking sexy.”

His eyes slowly slide from the small droplets of water back to Mike’s shocked face. And there must have been something that he is seeking. Something he finds in Mike’s eyes - because he smiles. And Mike can’t help but groan.

“Don’t say things like that…” Mike croaks, his throat dry and his blood buzzing.

The smile grows into a chesire grin. “Why not?”

“Because” Mike only takes an eighth of a moment to bother with hesitation, “because then I have to do this.”

And they are kissing. The water glass drops to the floor with a thud as hot lips crash against hot lips. As gasps are sucked from one mouth into another. Hands gripping hair. More hands bunching up sleepshirts. 

Mike pushes Will down against the bed and feels a little put out when Will giggles with the action. Like he knew this was going to happen. He kisses him fiercely in retaliation, his body climbing over Will’s slighter form. All the better to feel everything as he lowers his body down to lie deliciously against every inch of his friend’s.

This pulls a moan from Will who interrupts the kiss to throw his head to the side and pant, his hands rubbing over Mike’s lower back. He looks up at Mike angelically as he proceeds to grab two handfuls of Mike’s ass and grind his hips up into Mike’s undeniable erection.

Mike’s breath hitches and his arms tremble where they are standing as unsteady columns either side of Will’s head.

“You fuck” he pants. “How did you know?”

This gives Will pause. He lets go of Mike’s ass and smoothes his hands back up to the middle of his back.

“I, I didn’t know” his eyes blink widely, and he sounds almost completely sober. “I– well… I hoped. I’ve kind of hoped for years… but I didn’t, well– I didn’t know for sure. I guessed. An educated guess. But a guess all the same.”

“Hmmm” Mike’s head lowers to tuck under the curve of Will’s chin. Just taking a moment to breathe in those words like he is breathing in the scent of Will’s sweat.

“Was I…” Will’s voice almost seems to be trembling. “Was I right? Is this… okay?”

Mike smiles privately as he noses down the side of Will’s neck. He kisses lightly at the mole tucked away there before returning to look into his best friends beautiful sea green eyes. 

“It’s more than ok” he murmurs, his smile growing as he witnesses the almost boyish excitement bloom in his friend’s expression.

Will pulls him down into a much more intense kiss. His hand eventually pushing at Mike’s shoulder until he gets the idea and turns over, pulling Will on top of him. 

Now Will was the one holding himself up above him. Their only point of contact where Will’s hips are weighted down against his own. The exquisite feel of Will’s cock laying against his upper thigh.

Will dips his groin in an experimental thrust and grins as Mike stutters in a breath.

“As much as I would like to be all lovey-dovey right now” Will murmurs as his hips sway into an unrelenting grind. “Would it be okay if we just skipped all that and go right to part where you fuck me senseless first?”

Mike couldn’t help barking out a laugh. “Mister, you got a deal.”

Will licks his lips in such a ridiculously unaware way it should really be a sin. 

“Deal” he nods agreeably.

And well, they do.

Fuck each other senseless.

Turns out all of their knowledge swapping over the years majorly comes in handy. They both seem to already know what the other wants. What the other needs.

It isn’t… its weird how not weird it is. 

Mike knows to not treat Will like a delicate flower. Knows he likes to be in control of things.

Will knows the spots that will make Mike weak. Which touches will have him keening with surprised delight.

There is only one time when Mike seems to surprise Will.

The moment he pushes the lube Will had handed him back into his friend’s hand with a slightly pleading look.

For the first time all night Will looks genuinely unbalanced. Mike just chuckles. 

“It’s my first time. I want it to be all special and shit. Don’t worry–” he states quickly when it looks like Will is going to argue. “You’re not the first thing that has been up there. Heck you won’t even be the tenth. I’ve been… practising.”

It’s kind of silly how Mike takes some weird sort of pleasure in how wide Will’s eyes go. How his mouth momentarily hangs open in an astonished ‘O’.

It melts away quickly though. And Mike receives his wish.

Thoroughly.

It’s lucky that the dorm is practically deserted.

The next morning finds Mike waking up hot and content and sore in places he’d never known were a thing. 

He looks down to where Will is cuddled under his arm. Drooling onto his chest and still gloriously naked. How often had he imagined this over the last few months? Waking up like this. 

Sated and dehydrated and so very, very happy.

He just HAS TO share this moment. The urge is overwhelming. 

He shifts underneath Will until his mouth can slot against the other’s. He kisses and kisses and kisses at his face until Will lets out a sleepy chortle and pushes him away.

Mike watches contentedly as Will stretches and groans and blinks against the sunlight coming in through the dorm window. 

“Mike” he murmurs groggily. “I’m going to need you to do something for me.”

Mike is quick to jump in with a giddily enthusiastic “Anything.”

“Ok. Ok. I need you to go home–”

Mike’s jaw drops and his foggy brain is suddenly dowsed in a wave of shock and self-doubt and all sorts of horrible things that he had not prepared himself to be feeling.

Will reads his face like a book but gives nothing away as he leans forward and lays a sweet kiss against Mike’s nose. Sending him cross-eyed.

“I need you to go home right now. You see, I need to call and tell you all about this really amazing guy I slept with last night…”

His teeth show through in a grin and a sly little wink makes an appearance and Mike…

… Mike is in love.

A.N. So yeah. That’s that. Quick and dirty and unpolished. And probably not as N*SFW as you were hoping for (sorry I suck at writing smut). Hope you enjoyed it anyway and sorry for all the mistakes and tense changes.

[junker-town]

Why we’re making a three-hour documentary series on the Seattle Mariners

This is the most fascinating team in the history of American sports. You’ll just have to trust us on this one.

A few months ago, Alex and I had a call with Graham MacAree, lifelong Seattle Mariners fan and our editor-in-chief.

Jon: Right now, we’re planning our next Dorktown project, and we think this is gonna be a big one. We want to tell the whole story of the Seattle Mariners. Everything from the founding of the team up until last–

Graham: Fuck you.

He thought we were joking. We were not joking. “The History of the Seattle Mariners” is a six-part video documentary series that figures to be about three hours long. As with all our other video content, it will be free for everyone to view. The first episode will debut Thursday, March 26th, on what would have been the Mariners’ 2020 opening day.

Even to those familiar with Dorktown’s typical insistence on chronicling the least important things in the world, our story selection might seem a little strange. Know this: we have absolutely no affiliation with the team, we’re not doing this to fulfill conditions with any sort of sponsorship deal, and neither of us are even Mariners fans. (Alex is a Dodgers fan, and I’m a Royals fan.) This ought to underscore just how badly we want to tell the story of this fascinating, outrageously weird franchise, starting all the way back with its bizarre origins.

When we first started outlining this project in December, Alex and I originally planned to produce a single video that lasted 30 to 40 minutes. This idea quickly went out the window as we continued to dig up more and more stories. Some of these stories are tension-filled, some are funny, some are strange, and some are downright stupid. We edited ourselves down to the point at which the only stories we had left were the ones we couldn’t bear to leave out. It was still three hours long.

We’ve written this series with everyone in mind, from people who find baseball to be the most boring people on the planet, to the casual sports fan, to the diehard Mariners fan. You diehard fans will certainly see a lot of things coming, but I think I can safely guarantee that there are at least a few things in here that will be new even to you. I grew up obsessed with baseball, always sort of considering the M’s my “other” favorite team, as I think a lot of other kids did during the Griffey years. At least half of this series is made up of stories that I had no clue about until a few months ago.

As you’d imagine, Events have slightly complicated the production and release schedule of this series. We’re pretty confident we’ll be able to release the first three episodes as follows:

Episode 1: Thursday, March 26th

Episode 2: Thursday, April 2nd

Episode 3: Thursday, April 9th

In a perfect world, we’d love to release the final three episodes on each Thursday thereafter, but if they’re slightly delayed, we hope you’ll understand.

This series will have absolutely no relevance to anything that’s going on in our lives or the world at large. We just want to make some shit you’ll enjoy for a little while. That’s the beginning and end of it. Love y’all. If you want to be there when each episode drops, you can subscribe to SB Nation on YouTube.

[danmacrae]

Silly 90s Intro Blab: A Thing To Skim Through On The Toilet

Hello! I’m semi-tolerable nuisance Dan MacRae! Why am I shouting at you? Not sure! Sorry, I’ll take it down a notch.

Instead of learning how to pleasure a woman or how to unlock the mysteries of grooming, I have devoted my life to TV nonsense. Blessed YouTube presence RwDt09 has been collecting these amazing compilations of era (and sometimes season) specific TV intros and they are my everything. Imagine having a child that didn’t suck? That’s the feeling RwDt09′s videos put in my heart.

I've been obsessively rewatching this collection of mostly forgotten early '90s TV intros. The bulk of these shows died a quick death and feel like the product of whatever drugs TV execs take. (Probably something snorted from one of those awesome McDonalds coffee straws they ditched in like 2002.) Because I'm a handsome pin-up hunk of the year, I wrote some dumb blurbs about the first few shows and have some stray thoughts on the rest. This appeals to no one but me AND I APOLOGIZE TO NO ONE!

In the immortal words of John Lennon, let’s get biz-zay!

DINOSAURS: I’m at a point in my life where I can acknowledge that Dinosaurs sucked. It’s incredibly freeing. Christ, this is like that stupid-ass Norman Lear show where dogs did social commentary BUT WITH HENSON PUPPETS! I hope Baby Sinclair was stomped to death and eaten as pudding before the extinction series finale. (Yes, that happened.) The intro isn’t bad, mind you. You get the lumbering theme song and Earl gets stuck in a door CUZ LAFFS! TIMES SURE HAVEN’T CHANGED HO HO HO! God I hate these fucking dinosaurs.

Intro MVP: It’s not a stellar pack, but we get a bit of Robbie Sinclair who census data has shown led to a variety of surprising sexual awakenings for youths at the time.

SCORCH: A 1300-year-old dragon named Scorch visits the 1990s on a budget that looks not far removed from Skank on The Ben Stiller Show. The song will make you want to barricade your sex organs from a world where you can bring children into a world with THAT CAWAZZZY SCORCH! The theme song really is a special brand of irritating and Scorch looks like a malformed Deviant Art dildo with a vaguely religious bent.

Intro MVP: Probably John O’Hurley for not actually appearing in the intro. (Even with O’Hurley’s weird résumé.)

FISH POLICE: Not to be confused with the (ARF! ARF! ARF!) Dog Police, Fish Police and Family Dog are shows I know almost exclusively from being mentioned as examples of the crappy post-Simpsons primetime animation gold rush. Fish Police actually looks good animation-wise, but it’s pretty clear you’re gonna be sledgehammered with endless “COULD YOU IMAGINE FISH DOING THESE OLD TROPES? DO WE NEED TO CALL A SEARCH PARTY FOR YOUR SIDES? ARE THEY SPLITTING ALREADY?” jokes. Congrats dipshits, you made a cinema-touched precursor to Frankie & George. You dummies. Also there’s the tone of casual racism UNDER THE SEA so do with that what you will. DID YOU SEE CHINATOWN? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT SHIT?

Intro MVP: Thank goodness they specified who John Ritter voices so we could all bask in Inspector Gil as a character name. Fuck you, Fish Police.

CAPITOL CRITTERS: Christ, this looks UNWATCHABLE. Like walk into oncoming traffic as an alternative unwatchable. Capitol Critters centers around an animated mouse named Max (voiced by Neil Patrick Harris) witnesses his family being murdered in Nebraska and moves to D.C. and wait what the fuck is going on with those roaches? (Racism, mostly.) Who thought this was a good idea to invest time, money and animator joint damage in? Stephen Bochco, baby! I have a perverse curiosity to see an episode but after 90 seconds I know I'd be dying to eat a fucking gun instead of suffering through any more of Capitol Critters.

Intro MVP: Gotta be Bochco. Also, EAT SHIT BOCHCO!

And now a really tiny blab about the rest. Watch this clip package, ya goofs!

FAMILY DOG: Folks were fucking horny for Spielberg TV shit in the 90s, ditto Tim Burton too and that's how an Amazing Stories, uh, story was morphed into a shitball TV series that Brad Bird wanted no part of. Also, I have no idea how to explain things like the CBS StereoSound chyron to anyone born after Clinton left office.

THE CRITIC: Nice to see you, Jay Sherman! This is a lovely intro and you likely know that already. I've done a few rewatches of The Critic (not the web series season, though) and I say the show definitely holds up and is far from a duketastrophe. That said, some of the parody film clips that got raves at the time are kinda creaky in hindsight.

CHARLIE HOOVER: Can I say something? Fuck Sam Kinison. Hmm... That's a bit harsh. I guess I just don't get him on any level. The only thing he's done that I've ever found all that funny was when he said he wished Andrew Dice Clay die of stomach cancer from the inside out, like Bette Davis. Kinison's not my cup of tea is what I'm getting at. In Charlie Hoover (GET IT HURF HURF), Kinison is a foot high loudmouth in a long coat that's getting 40-year-old square Tim Matheson where he needs to be in life.

A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN: Or... "Betty Spaghetti's Here Which Is All The Star Power You Need!"

HARDBALL: A League Of Their Own had a fun, feel good intro with all the corny touches of ol' timey baseball. Hardball tries to sell you on Joe Rogan: Baseball Fella and the vague scent of urinal troughs.

GOOD GRIEF: Howie Mandel golfs in a cemetery and it's not particularly clear if he's just fucking around on strangers graves for fun. (Alternate Theory: Those graves belong to the family from Bobby's World. All the Generics!)

THE FANELLI BOYS: If enjoy broad Italian-American stereotypes to the point of falling down laughing at the sight of a pizza box, you'll love The Fanelli Boys! Joe Pantoliano and Christopher Meloni both star.

SOMETHING WILDER: Something Wilder was the sort of show where I wished Gene Wilder well and still kept 5000 miles away from watching it. Also, Wilder's face on that house is CHILLING.

DUDLEY: Embrace the luxury hotel elevator elegance of Dudley! Does it feature Dudley Moore make a series of faces where he seems surprised by everything? You better believe it. This was also where Max Wright got work in-between taking abuse from a cat eating alien and Norm Macdonald.

CAROL & COMPANY: It's a bit Carol Takes On in the intro with Carol Burnett in assorted costumes and that's alright because everyone does the assorted costumes intro thing. Tickets to the show are blown across America and get in the hands of whatever Orphan Black Carol happens to be in the area.

THE CAROL BURNETT SHOW: This is an extremely 90s sort of intro that feels like something more upscale soft rock stations did in TV ads at the time too. Richard Kind directs a bit of paper at someone midway through.

DREXELL'S CLASS: One of more storied entries in the Dabney Coleman being an asshole catalogue. The first intro features Dabney, ol' Drex himself, just hanging around in class being hot shit and occasionally mimicking a flying dinosaur. The second intro is a more traditional clip collection highlighted by a young Brittany Murphy (WHO WAS MURDERED! FACT! REMINDER!) and Coleman in a wild 8 ball jacket. Rembrandt off Sliders also makes an appearance.

TEECH: If this intro looks exactly like a sitcom where a Cool Black Music Instructor™ teaches Prep School bad boys in Bush Sr era America that's because it is exactly that sort of sitcom. Maggie Han deserves better.

THE ROYAL FAMILY: It seems extra cruel to take Redd Foxx's popcorn away considering he'd be dead before the fifth episode even aired. Della Reese is in this, die-hard Della fans.

ROC: This intro works perfectly. We get Charles S. Dutton, Ella Joyce and an easy to digest Jerry Lawson theme song. (En Vogue would do the theme later.) It’d be nice if they could get Edgar Allan Poe wagging a finger at seafood or something else in the background to push that Baltimore thing even more, but I still wish this intro from 25+ year old Fox comedy all the best in its future endeavours.

BREWSTER PLACE: Speaking of good intros, Brewster Place is a first rate brand of TV welcome. Brenda Pressley is the MVP of the intro over Oprah Winfrey which might explain why Brenda Pressley has been missing since 1992. (I know she’s on The Path. Just play along.)

SUNDAY BEST: The intro equivalent of getting someone to throw shit at a wall, we get an early 90s NBC grab bag of fuck it whatever shots of TVs and TV dinners with poor Carl Reiner trotted out partway through.

AMERICAN CHRONICLES: Mark Frost and David Lynch paired for a documentary series in the early ‘90s on Fox because Fox was like fucking UHF at the time. The industrial strength creepy opening doesn’t include any shots of narrator Richard Dreyfuss turning towards the camera and that’s a damn shame.

AMERICAN DETECTIVES: If you get horny for stressed out real-life detectives, this will send your undergarments to Mars! Lots of mustaches here. A whole Safeway bag’s worth. Some real rural gas station rock going on with that theme tune.

FBI: THE UNTOLD STORIES: The tone of this entire intro is: “Hey kid, wanna see a dead body? Or twenty?” Creepy music blasting over Jackie Kennedy on the back of JFK’s death limo and Wayne Williams heading to trial equals primetime party fun!

ENCOUNTERS: THE HIDDEN TRUTH: Suck it, Sightings! Encounters is leading a new dawn for crackpot horseshit to eat Bugles to! I appreciate the shameless X-Files knockoff intro thing Fox is doing (cuz it’s their show) that comes complete with head shop blanket alien head popping up midway through.

STEPHEN KING’S GOLDEN YEARS: Essentially Garth Marenghi's Darkplace with one hell of a music rights win tacked on.

TRIBECA: This opening reminds me an awful lot of terrible movies I was bullied into watching on VHS at a friend’s house.

WIOU: One thing I like in a TV intro is when something fun happens with the title onscreen. It’s a minor thing, but the way those WIOU letters turn into view? HOOCHIE MAMA! Eight is Enough’s Dick Van Patten does a fantastic job of conveying that being a weatherfellow is tough work.

GABRIEL’S FIRE: I will never for the life of me understand how the early ‘90s could not sustain a James Earl Jones fronted program titled Gabriel’s Fire. Those worlds are supposed to meld beautifully.

PROS & CONS: Gabriel’s Fire would morph into the more lighthearted Pros & Cons which symbolized its new form by laying it on thick with the Video Toaster touches. Instead of James Earl Jones peering at you from the darkness, this go-around it’s a lot of smiles and silly moments with Richard Crenna.

BURKE’S LAW: Hearing “it’s Burke’s Law” at the start of that intro is like when “Do you smell what The Rock’s cooking?” would play before Dwayne Johnson would wander down a ramp to kick Triple H in the stomach. In this case, it’s to get you fired up that Gene Barry’s back on television. This particular episode promises Dom DeLuise and Tawny Kitaen together at last!

MAX MONROE: LOOSE CANNON: If you only see one intro for a Shadoe Stevens vehicle that transitions from a Donut Hole shot to an extended leer at a lady’s bum, make it this one!

TEQUILA AND BONETTI: The creators of Tequila and Bonetti know that if you want folks to get on board for an L.A. dramedy about a New York cop and streetwise police partner dog, you should kick things off by trying to make you feel sorry for this asshole who “accidentally” murdered a kid. Seriously, that’s the route Tequila and Bonetti goes with this fucking insane opening that begins with newspaper headlines screaming “COP KILLS 12 YR OLD” while he cradles a black girl in her arms and then BOOM! we’re spun around to JACK SCALIA GRINNING AROUND WACKY LOS ANGELES AND ALL ITS CRAZY CHARACTERS LIKE A DOG THAT JUMPS THROUGH A FUCKING WINDOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE? THIS IS LIKE IF SOMEONE STROKED OFF THE HANNITY VIEWING AND KEPT WHAT WAS SPURTED OUT ONSCREEN! It’s just a really, really, really bad intro.

[princeofsalt]

PrinceOfSalt’s fic rec in no particular order!

I need home (our tangled bones) by togetherwecouldbealright

Louis runs a record label and Harry is his daughter's new nanny. Over the course of a year, Harry helps Louis learn what it really is to be a father and somehow they find an unexpected home in each other.

Or, the kid fic where Louis wants to make Harry a star, Zayn just needs everyone to stop being stupid, Niall laughs his arse off at everything, Liam attempts to keep things in order and Harry takes a chance.

Orange Canvas by aclosetlarryshipper

Few can handle Louis Tomlinson on the dance floor, much less match him in skill and fervor. Louis has obviously met his soul mate; he just never expected him to be wearing a red snapback and to chew gum like an entitled Mercedes owner.

or

A spring break (kind of) fake relationship AU

This Wicked Game (particularly amazing) by cherrystreet

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

Take Off Your Running Shoes by  polkadotpeacoat

AU- Harry is the fit supermarket check out boy. Louis wants to sleep with him. Summer romance ensues.

Anyplace, Anyhow, Anytime (amazing) by  aimmyarrowshigh, colazitron

Harry's going to audition for The X-Factor in a few days, he really can't use this persistent tickle in his throat. What's even worse is when the tickle turns into a full blown cough, and the cough makes him pass out only for Harry to wake up in a different world. And then another one, and another one, and another one. The only other person who seems to be as affected as he is, is a boy with blue eyes who keeps showing up in every single one of these worlds.

led by your beating heart (as far as I can remember this one was real good) by  missandrogyny

Nick leans over. "Oh," he says, his voice smug. "Who is that?"

Harry just blinks at his phone. "Um," he manages to stammer out.

"Who's that, Harry?" Nick asks again, but this time he raises his eyebrows and smirks. Harry knows Nick is just teasing, and that he's not really looking for new Harry Styles gossip, but, um. He might have found something. Accidentally.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is another 'um'. He really needs to work on translating his thoughts into words. But then it probably wouldn't be any helpful right now, would it? His mind is as blank as a newly erased etch-a-sketch.

"Oh," Nick says again, this time gleefully, seemingly having picked up on Harry's distress. "Looks like we've got a story here! Are you going to call or delete her number?"

Her number. So Nick thinks it's a girl. Well, Harry can't blame him: 'Lou' is kind of an androgynous nickname. His stylist's name is Lou. But this Lou, well, Louis, he's kind of, really, really not a girl. He's really pretty though, which, is something. 

(Or: AU where Harry's in One Direction, Louis isn't, and they reconnect over a game of 'Call or Delete'.)

California Sold by  isthatyoularry

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Where Your Heart Is by  anhcor, tvshows_addict

Louis is ready for his brand new adventure. So what if he suffers from a genetic condition that prevents him from being touched? College is going to be awesome. It has to. Karma kind of owes him right now. Forget about his overprotective mother, or Liam-- his entirely too chipper step brother-- or his mess of a roommate. Forget about the gloves he has to wear at all times. He’s here to expand his knowledge, write and drown himself in books -- No matter how distracting ‘Hallway Boy’ may be-- The obnoxious, flirty frat wannabe determined to become the bane of Louis’ existence.

Or, a college AU set in San Francisco where two lost boys who seemingly have nothing in common find inspiration, each other, and themselves in the process.

Run Like the Devil by  benzos

Harry stops pouting, but his frown is still fixed in place. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You know it’s your soul you’re signing away.” He sounds…sad? No, that’s not right, but there’s something.

Christ. This is the most incompetent demon Louis’ ever met. If he hadn’t seen the red of his eyes he wouldn’t believe he was a demon at all. How’d he get this job if he isn’t trying to convince Louis to deal? Or is it just another trick? A ploy for sympathy?

“I’m sure,” Louis says. “Come over here and kiss me.”

Supernatural AU. Louis hunts demons; Harry's the strangest demon he's ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him.

break open the sky by  karamelised

Being a werewolf isn't always easy. Especially if you have no idea what you're doing.

or

Werewolf au. Harry might be a werewolf, but he still wants to experience Uni like everyone else. Turns out he learns a lot.

In Vogue by  otpwhatever

'Is that why David Beckham has been featured multiple times on the pages of your life's work? Does your criteria seriously consist of one thing – a man's ass?' 'Well the ass is a man's best asset,' Harry smirks, holding the Martini glass high up his face. 'And don't call the magazine my life's work. There are far more important things in life, Louis Tomlinson, than what's printed on the pages of a magazine.'

Fashion AU. Louis is the editor in chief of Vogue magazine, and Harry's running British GQ. Featuring Zayn as the crazy creative director and Louis' confidant, Liam as the sports writer that gets to sit front row at fashion week and DJ Neil as the only sane person in the whole story. (There are no skinny jeans in this fic)

Wont See It Coming Til It’s Already Gone by  whoknows (MY FAVORITE AUTHOR)

“Tell me that this is a fake,” Peter says, slapping a handful of papers against Louis’ chest. He says something else, something loud and demanding, barely even pausing for a breath, but Louis doesn’t hear it. All he hears is the sound of his own breathing, the sound of his own heartbeat.

Because this - this looks like a marriage certificate.

For a minute, everything stills, quiets. Louis drags his eyes up, meets Harry’s gaze, fixed on him.

Then the noise is back, shouting voices clamoring to be heard over each other, and Harry is still staring at him.

The ring that Louis hadn’t been able to stop noticing in the loo weighs heavily on his hand. His left hand.

Time will tell, I suppose, or at least, these pages will. by lets_get_messi

Harry has a diary and he's been writing about the pen-pal he's never met in there since he's been 12 years old. One day he reads his diary out to a room full of strangers and finds that the man with the blue-eyes at the back of the room is a slight distraction.

(Or Harry goes to a public diary reading thing at his local coffee shop and gets more than he bargained for)

devil town by  kingsoftheimpossible

a southern us au

“Mmm,” Louis hums, tipping his head slightly in acknowledgement. “You know what I reckon all the baseball games you’ve seen have in common?”

Harry rocks on his heels, uncertain, drifting. If it were daylight, if he could see Louis’ face, maybe he’d see where this was going. As it is, he hazards a guess, smiling beseechingly even though Louis probably can’t see him very well. “That I didn’t know what was going on?”

“I reckon,” Louis says, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ashes to the ground, “you only ever paid attention to baseball when it involved paying attention to me.”

like a timebomb ticking (this made me sob. I’ve read it like 5 times it’s so amazing. read it. do it.)by  infinitelymint

Louis loses everything. Harry's still there.

Marking Up The Atmosphere by  acidveins

At the age of twenty, Harry deals with things expected to occur at his age: student loans, instant meals, electricity bills, and the constant, incessant presence of never ending coursework.

That, and the job of raising his six year old daughter and avoiding the charm of a young, successful, and very off-limits Louis Tomlinson.

all of our important nothings by  deadspy

Louis stares down at his phone for an eternity before typing out the message.

does she know that paper plane necklace was a gift from my mum to you our first christmas together???

He immediately regrets sending it. He knows it doesn’t matter. Knows Taylor’s necklace is a cheap knockoff of the one Harry had always worn so proudly— knows the way he’d smiled at it, lifting it slowly from the small box he’d been given it to in, the way Jay had met Louis’ eyes from across the room and winked, how it had dangled from Harry’s neck that night as he rode Louis on his childhood bed, the little silver airplane catching on the lights from cars passing by on the road outside shining into his room and casting soft reds and yellows over Harry’s pale skin.

[Harry and Louis are in love, Haylor happens, and Louis battles quite a few demons along the way.]

Glow by  dolce_piccante (read EVERY. FIC. SHE. HAS.)

Alien AU, with a hint of Royal AU. A summer barbecue at the Tomlinson's is interrupted by a naked visitor from a peaceful planet far, far away. Can an alien and a human survive a summer together for the sake of the human race?

monsters are always hungry, darling by  makescalamity

In Freudian terms, Harry has an oral fixation. Louis is more than ok with it.

All Tired Talk by  orphan_account

In which Harry is the dying front man of a dying rock band, Zayn has finally given up holding his hair back in dingy bathrooms, Niall and Liam are holding up the fort, and Louis comes along with eyes the color of the sky to remind Harry that there is still more life to live.

These Constant Stars by  stylinsoncity

Louis’ career has nowhere to go but up. He’s living at the height of New York City on the precipice of an epic promotion. Life is good and only getting better. And then one day, things turn disastrous.

This is a story about life, death, and punk rockers turned guardian angels.

Title inspired by "Fool's Gold" by One Direction.

walk my days on a wire by  sunshiner

Harry hums, staring at his hands in his lap, and Louis can still feel their smoothness, how solid they were in between his own. “Do you think it’s the same for us? Are we here only because of the likeliness of our jobs? Of our lives?” “We’re here because we have inventive managers,” Louis says, giving Harry’s leg a little nudge with his knee, but all that’s going around in his head is, I think I'd be in the same spot in every possible universe.

or, when actor Louis Tomlinson used to daydream about dating Harry Styles, this is not what he had in mind.

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by  usedtothebeach

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

[jamfingers]

Now that I read it, ngl I like "Life And Death" way better than "Twilight". Spoilers ahead.

CONS:

I have one really big issue and that’s that the execution for disproving that Twilight wasn’t sexist fell so flat. Bella experienced sexist treatment at the hands of Edward (her boyfriend), Charlie (her father), and Jacob (her best friend). While I can see what SM was getting at about Edward and Bella’s relationship specifically being uneven not because of gender, but because of power dynamics, Bella experienced sexism from her other important male relationships. Charlie and Edward had the whole “Take care of my girl” exchange in front of Bella like she wasn’t even there when he came to pick her up for baseball and it irritated her. Beau had his dad being awestruck that his son scored someone so hot in the equivalent scene and Beau was like “ikr?”. In NM (granted L&D didn’t get this far and went a different plot route in the end), Jacob sexually assaults Bella and because she can’t physically stop him, she just has to wait it out. Beau, like Bella, gets a harem to choose from, but unlike Bella, has (imo) more control at rearranging these dynamics.

There were also the societal adjustments made to suit Beau’s gender…like the assault in Port Angeles….what? Boys can’t be victims of random almost gang rapes? Or Beau’s fave book. The neuroscientist in me is like “well, there is a 2% genetic difference in males and females that accounts for mechanistic changes in brain functioning” while the sociologist in me is like “bullshit, his preference change is because of gender conformity and expectations”. So I’m torn.

Also the entire book is basically a fan fiction and a ploy for the author to make some more money (Yes I got suckered in, but still bro….you didn’t change much. I’d rather have something rewritten than revised).

Also, as much as I like the queer Twilight ideas, Bella would be just as “abused” in her relationship with Edythe and Beau would be “abused” in his relationship with Edward (I quote this because abused is the word used by fandom critics - I, like SM, always saw it as a power dynamic issue, not abuse, but that’s another thing all together) because both narrators just seem so damn susceptible to brainwashing and both versions of their love interest are incredibly forcible in their assertions and wills. The dynamics of their relationship don’t actually change much in the narrative, which was SM’s point - many people only called it abusive bc Edward was a male and Bella was a female, when in actuality it should be considered that way no matter what the gender or sexuality dynamics. Just saying. Stay consistent because, for all her faults, SM did. Edward/Edythe almost always got their way while Bella/Beau was often frustrated because they had to be the compliant one. When B does exert their will, it has to be through trickery rather than talking it out like adults bc they know E will be an obstacle. That is not an equivalent relationship and no amount of gender/sexuality changes will change that.

PROS:

So many things I loved. I adored Bella and Beau is just as lovable. He is so tol and so awkward and so adoring of this girl and it was refreshing to read a YA romance (esp a supernatural/fantasy one) about an ordinary boy falling in love with an extraordinary girl. I also like the fact that he’s more straight-forward in his descriptions of things that aren’t Edythe than Bella is. Bella goes on and on about how green and wet and cold it is and how she hates Forks bc it’s not Phoenix. That never appealed to me. Beau’s straight-forwardness and briefness about these details, to me, emphasizes the suddenly flowery, dramatic language he adopts when basking in Edythe’s glory. It was cute.

The genderbent versions of the characters seemed so much more…well-rounded and developed compared to their original incarnations. Which is weird because the book is essentially a copy-n-paste except for a few key moments and changes. Perhaps the author was just more comfortable writing them this time around.

Edythe Cullen is so much cooler than Edward. I didn’t like Edward much but I understand Beau’s obsession more than Bella’s. Fr dude I get it. Like the ECs essentially have the same rotten personality but it’s the little details that draw you in. Edythe’s details make her more awesome than Edward, sorry not sorry. She’s also like, smol and graceful and possibly more sarcastic than any version of all the characters which contrasts Beau’s slightly overwhelmed baby giraffe status so adorably. She reminds me of those evil-but-elegant looking Maine Coon cats.

A bevy of awesome female characters. Because so many of the key supernaturals were male in Twilight, it is fucking amazing that this whole new world seems so female driven. The new Volturi? Yes. The matriarch wolf pack? Double yes.

Archie fucking Cullen. I didn’t think it was possible for me to love a Twilight character more than Alice and Rosalie, but Archie man. Omg. (Royal not so much -his name omg I’m dead - because he seems to have Rosalie’s chip but his reasons for it are so ugh compared to hers. Both lost their families and statuses, yes, but Rosalie enduring horrific sexual assault before dying and losing all this on top of that seems more striking than Royal getting jumped. Idk, both are PTSD-inducing moments, but it once again portrays that SM failed to full stop the sexism she’s accused of utilizing. Also Royal was so vague about the details so SM wouldn’t have to think about developing why Royal is such a prick - like he could just be an asshole who thinks Beau is an idiot. That’s fine. I thought Bella was an idiot and sided with Rosalie, bc yeah girl, you want to die for a boy, a terrible, terrible boy at that. Rosalie was right in her logic and gets unfairly shat on for being a bitch. Whatever. I digress.) But Archie is also a double yes. I loved Archie, I want one in my life.

The ending. That was the ending I wanted for Twilight when I first read the saga. Tbh, the way Breaking Dawn ended was too perfect, kinda creepy on many accounts, retconish (Renesme or however the fuck it’s spelled shouldn’t exist, fight me), and frankly, incredibly boring. Too many things worked out for Bella and Edward and while they did have obstacles, their relationship was too happily ever after for my tastes and not really earned because a lot of their obstacles arose from their own stupidity/stubbornness.

The follow up for this new ending could potentially be soooo good and complex because there would be so many new obstacles and stakes to explore with Beau as a (spoiler) vampire in a relationship with a girl he’s madly in love with, but slowly realising exactly what it is he ended up losing to be with her. That is good relationship strife. Plus seeing Beau have a nemesis in Victor (Victoria) would make up for us being deprived of Bella having a single enemy that she went toe-to-toe with rather than her being the target of Edward’s nemesis because that would hurt Edward. Bella was very much side-lined in her own story and didn’t get to grow much in Edward’s presence (she had development just fine when he wasn’t around) until she got pregnant. Beau, with his ending, would not have that. I also want to see more fiercely protective Edythe - I want to see a couple protect each other, not one more powerful partner seclude the other away from the world “for their own good”. The new ending is a good way to provide growth for Edythe’s character as well and completely overturn that “abusive” dynamic. While I’m sad Bella didn’t get Beau’s awesome ending, the author seems satisfied and so were a lot of less critical readers so… *shrugs* Whatever.

Anyway td;lr - Life and Death, while not perfect, is a better story than Twilight with the foundation for a really interesting follow up if the time and thought were put into it.

[sassyshortstack]

I had a random flashback again today. It came out of nowhere. They got better - or rather fewer - this fall, and now it feels like they’re seeping back. They don’t last as long as they used to, but they’re just as real and even more jarring. When they come, my breath stops and I don’t realize it until my brain lands back in the present and I remember to breathe.

So, I’m going to sift through the memories in the hopes that writing about them will help keep the disturbing flashbacks at bay more. TW: cancer, death, grief, suicidal thoughts.

My sister Rebecca died on August 25, 2016. I watched it happen. But in many ways, I still don’t believe it.

On New Year’s Eve 2015, she was diagnosed with Stage IV cervical carcinoma and metastatic lung nodules. Which basically means she had a giant tumor in her uterus, and it had spread enough to cause damage to her lungs before we knew. She underwent chemotherapy and radiation for the following eight months. In the summer of 2016, she had to use an oxygen tank way too fucking often. Then one night in August, a week before she died, she started having sudden chest pain. My mom and I drove her to the ER. When they took her back to one of those terrible half-open ER rooms, with mattresses that are way worse than even the ones in my college dorms, I was with her. The nurse asked what pain level she was feeling on a scale of 1 to 10, and she managed to get out “Eight.” Somebody told my mother that Rebecca had a pulmonary embolism (a blood clot in the lung). Later that night, I asked my mom what that meant, and she told me just that - “it’s a blood clot in the lung” - but I didn’t really understand what it meant until days later.

My dad came to the hospital from the meeting he’d been at when we first brought my sister to the ER. He called my brother, who was several states away, to book a flight to come home right now, and in the back of the mind I realized that wasn’t a good thing. But I wasn’t scared. I knew my sister was stronger than this disease. I knew she’d make it. I just knew.

I wasn’t really scared until three nights later, when Dad, Andrew, and I were asleep (sort of) at home and Mom was at the hospital overnight. She called my dad at three in the morning to say Rebecca was having trouble breathing and being admitted to the ICU, and we needed to come right away. We all threw on clothes, jumped into the car, and sped off. I could feel my heart thumping so hard it was trying to escape my chest, as if my system beating harder and faster would help keep her alive too. We half ran into the ICU, and I was so afraid. I’ve never been afraid like that. I was standing on a sheer cliff of terror, ringing in my ears, my head spinning, so scared that she would be gone and I wouldn’t be there for her. My sister, my best friend in the whole world, my soulmate and guardian and inspiration and dearest love.

When we finally made it through security and all the fluorescent, sterile-smelling hallways and arrived in her room, I was relieved to see my sister alive - and then I saw our pastor standing there. Anger like I had never known pumped through me. Why the hell is she here? Rebecca isn’t dead. She shouldn’t be here, we don’t need her. I tried to push the fury aside. I played the part when she asked us to pray together, when she blessed my sister, when she read from the Bible. But inside, I was full of rage. Stop treating my sister like she’s dead. She’s right here, and she’s going to be fine. Fuck off.

And in some ways, I was right. Rebecca made it through the night. The scariest night of my life. I hated seeing her with that stupid bag under her oxygen mask, to help her breathe better. Seeing her with the oxygen tube so often earlier in the summer had been bad enough, but the mask was somehow so much worse. But she made it through the night. And the sun rose through the big glass windows by her bed, where I was perched in a chair. It was a stunningly beautiful sunrise - the sky morphed from a deep slate blue to all hues of pink and orange. I was the one sitting in the room with her when the sun came up - we were holding hands and not talking much. She nodded outside the window. “Look.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

At some point, one of the doctors came in to talk about their next steps, and although I don’t remember what exactly he said, he was basically telling us she’d be able to do outpatient radiation again in a couple days. My family kept saying that was good news, but I was confused and had this inexplicable bad, twisted feeling in my gut. I don’t know how I knew, but I just knew that he was wrong. If she was going to be better so soon, why did she still have to use that stupid oxygen mask? Why were we still in the ICU? I still knew deep down she’d make it, but I also knew that it wasn’t going to go the way he said it was. I felt totally spaced out. Looking back, that day - her first day in the ICU - was when the deep shock really started to settle in. We’d had tons of visitors every day she’d been in the hospital, and there were even more that day, including cousins, old teachers, church friends, work friends, and some people I hadn’t seen in years. In retrospect, that really should have been a warning to me. That night, our family friends made my mom leave the hospital instead of spending the night with her, which my brother, dad, and I were incredibly grateful for. They also made my brother and me leave to do something fun that evening.

I still just felt so wrong. I knew my sister would survive this, but I also knew the radiologist was wrong. I was moving and talking and hearing other people talk to me, but I was totally not in my own skin. We’d had tickets to see the Royals game that night, and I didn’t really want to go, but our family friends kept saying we needed to get out and do something, so Andrew, my Aunt Deb, Amanda (my cousin closest to my age, and who I’m closest with in my extended family), and I all went to the game. I was in the backseat behind Andrew, who was driving, and he and Aunt Deb were mainly the ones talking on the long drive to the stadium. I kept hearing their words float by me without totally connecting them. But then my aunt started talking in a way that suggested she was worried, that she was on the verge of tears, that she was scared for my sister. She said she wanted her to sign a fabric square for a quilt she was making my parents just in case. Dimly, I felt annoyed and angry again. Why did people keep doubting my sister? She already battled and overcame so much. She already made it through depression, and she was going to kick cancer in the ass. Why did no one seem to have faith in her but me?

And then one phrase in particular stuck out to me. “If indeed Rebecca does pass away.”

My breath seized up. It felt like iron weights were crashing around my ears and weighing down my chest, creating a racket and suppressing my airstream all at once. The world was disappearing. All that existed was the terrible noise and the horrible weight and the sickeningly blurred trees and buildings outside my window.

No one had told me.

No one had told me my sister was in danger of dying.

And that’s how I found out. Through an aside, in a car, on the way to a fucking baseball game.

And I still haven’t been able to forgive my parents for that.

The next day, everything got worse - but I somehow didn’t feel worse. I just felt empty. Dazed. I remember my aunt and uncle making my brother and me gluten free funfetti pancakes (my aunt had amusingly but very unintentionally bought the funfetti rather than regular box at the store without realizing) with big, ripe blueberries. I remember my sister’s regular doctor coming to talk to us. I couldn’t process what she was saying. It was like I could see her mouth moving, hear that there were words spilling out, but I couldn’t understand her. Like she was speaking another language I used to know, but I just couldn’t remember a lot of the words anymore. She sounded almost angry. I was confused. I think she was pissed at the radiologist who had been there the day before and told us a plan that would never come to fruition. My mother looked scared, but I was just lost. I had known, I had felt yesterday, that the other doctor was wrong, and it seemed like that was what Rebecca’s primary doctor was saying now. But I still knew she’d be fine.

Then the word “hospice” made it through the fog in my brain.

I didn’t understand at first, but gradually I realized. She was going to be transferred to a hospice house. Later that day, at home, I asked my mom what that meant. She said with tears in her eyes that they take people there who they think have less than a week to live. I think I cried a little with her, but deep down, I was still hopeful. I still knew she’d make it. She always had, after all. The hospice house was for old people who have lived their lives, not twenty-five-year-olds with so much left. She still had a chance.

That night, my other aunt - the one who got the funfetti pancakes - was taking her daughter Amanda and my brother and me to their house for the night. On the way there, it was suggested we get ice cream, so we stopped at a Freddy’s Frozen Custard. We all ordered ice cream, and laughed together about how this was the most productive feelings-eating session there had ever been. It’s amazing what good food and good family can do for the soul. I didn’t feel so alone all of a sudden. About two bites into our ice cream, Amanda started making a big production of wanting fries too to really complete the whole eat-our-feelings thing. She was being her funniest, Amanda-est best, standing up and running to the counter to get a large order of fries. The half hour or so we spent there, laughing and talking over the saddest fries and ice cream in the world, was oddly perfect. It was the most I’d felt like me all week.

The next morning, they moved her to the hospice house. It was a Wednesday. And since it was August in Kansas City, it was hot and humid and disgusting. I’ve never liked summer, but the summer of 2016 has given me eternal fuel for hatred for the season.

The hospice house was cozy and filled with love and prayers from many volunteers and former visitors. And I hated it. I hated the word “hospice,” which I hadn’t really heard or read since my grandpa died years ago. I hated the butterfly logo, the ornate carpet, the dimly lit rooms. More than anything in the world, I hated the smell. I can’t describe it, but it still fills my nostrils whenever I have panic attacks or flashbacks. It was totally different from the terrible sterility of the hospital, and different from any smell of any other house or home I’ve ever set foot in. It was all wrong, and strange.

Rebecca had so many visitors that day. We gave her a quilt square and a Sharpie to write her name, or to draw something. She was such a good artist. But she kept falling asleep. Why is she falling asleep? She kept starting to write something, and managed to get out a block letter A and little else. A? Why A? She kept falling asleep trying to write even one word. And I still don’t know what it was going to be.

Not long after that, she started to sleep. And not long after that, she was slipping out of consciousness. Visitor after visitor came to sit by her, talk to her, but she was fast asleep. At some point, I took a break to walk around the hospice house garden. My aunt gently suggested calling a friend from St. Olaf. So I asked Ellen if we could talk, and she was happy to help. I paced around the garden, restlessly going by flower after flower, for once not scared of the bees. It was sunny and bright, and thanks to a breeze, not excessively warm in the shade of the trees. There were spinning wind sculptures amidst all the plants. I paused in front of a clump of yellow roses. Ellen had given me a yellow rose when my grandfather died. I stared at them as I told her what was happening. She just kept saying how sorry she was, and how it sucked, and how she wanted to help me any way she could. I told her, truthfully, that she was helping. (Side note: And she still does, every day. We are roommates. On the one year anniversary of my sister’s death, she kept me company half the night when I couldn’t sleep.)

I went back inside. I talked with people. Lots of them. They all looked at me like it was hard to face me. I couldn’t fully understand why. If anyone could make it through this, it was my sister. And no one seemed to know it but me. One of the hospice house nurses came to tell us they thought it would be soon now. But I just didn’t understand.

Evening came, and so did a storm. Rain started pattering against the windows at about the same time darkness fell. Late in the evening, at around nine o’clock, it turned into a real thunderstorm. Lightning was crashing outside, and inside, dozens of our friends and family - at least thirty people - were crowded inside the room. I don’t remember who first suggested it, but somehow, it came up that we should sing. My family - and many of our friends - are very musical, especially my parents, brother, sister, and me, and many of us were raised in the Lutheran church. So somehow, someone suggested we sing a hymn, and my brother started us off. A few of us looked up the lyrics on our phones, and within a few bars, the singing was full and strong. And then someone suggested another song. And another. And another. Sometimes, there would be a pause in between, and other times someone would just start singing a new hymn right away after the last one. I preferred no silence, because my sister was having more and more trouble breathing, and it was agonizing listening to her. So I was singing and singing, full and rich, not even having to hold back tears, overflowing with the music, helping lead the song. After a while, in the back of my mind, I wished we could do a Christmas song, but I was worried people would think it odd if I brought it up. But not a minute after this wish popped into my head, one of my little cousins asked my brother if we could sing “Silent Night.” It made me really and truly happy - and not just because I have the mind of an eight-year-old. We kept singing and singing (including a couple more Christmas carols, but mostly other hymns), and strange as it seems now, it felt totally natural. 

All in all, we sang for two hours. And we only really stopped because a nurse came by shortly after eleven to tell us that there was going to be a tornado warning in the county, and now might be a good time for visitors who needed to return home to do so before the storm got worse. So, most people left. Only my aunt and uncle, and three of our really close friends who might as well be related to us by now, stayed. They all went with the nurses to a chapel inside the hospice house, which had more cover from a potential tornado than my sister’s room. The nurses told my parents, Andrew, and me that we were welcome to stay with Rebecca unless there was a tornado coming our way, at which point they would come get us.

So we stayed. We decided each of us would be by her side in shifts while the others slept still in the room. My parents were with her first; I planted myself on the couch and Andrew took the rollaway cot. I couldn’t sleep anyway - not that he really could either. When my parents were ready to trade, he told me quietly to try and sleep. I nodded. I rummaged through my bag to see if I had brought my iPod, and was hugely relieved to see I had. With a blanket wrapped around me in a chair near Andrew, I put the headphones in my ears and sifted through songs to make a playlist, trying to bring some semblance of comfort or sleep. I was looking through music for quite a while, partially because I was half listening to Andrew reading my sister books - Chicka Chicka Boom Boom and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. She was a preschool teacher, and those were two of her favorite books in the whole wide world. I loved and hated seeing him read to her like that. Then he told me he was going to try and find our family friends. I said okay, and moved into the chair beside her. My parents were asleep. It was just her and me.

I moved the chair closer, so that I could hold her hand. We held hands all the time, so I knew the shape and warmth of her hands well. So it frightened me out of my wits when I took her hand and this time, it was icy cold. I felt a shock of panic course its way through me, but shook it off. I had to be with her. She needed me. I swallowed and took a deep breath. Then I took out my phone and started to read. An Awesome Book of Love.

The words fell from my mouth, staggering a little at first, but gradually with a rhythm.

...But we aren’t all of those things - you’re you and I’m me. And we’re as together as together can be. And you know I’m aglow with a smile on my face When I wonder what magic you’ll make of this place - Of this town, of this world. You’ll transform your surroundings! That spirit inside you is truly astounding...

I started to crumble a little. The words came slower and slower. But I had to keep going. I squeezed her hand tighter, willing warmth to flow it, willing her breathing to ease. Her breaths were coming too slowly, and it terrified me to my core. I’d never heard anyone breathe like that. I wanted her to feel better. I continued on.

...I love you! I love you! In so many ways - Over thousands of years, over billions of days...

Tears were falling rapidly. This book meant so much to me, and the words were so perfect for how I felt about her, Rebecca, my sister, my sunshine. Dimly, I realized a nurse had quietly walked in. I kept reading. It was one o’clock in the morning, and I was tired and scared and confused and crying a little, but I kept reading. I glanced at the words, but mostly I looked at her face, her long eyelashes - which had managed to grown back even longer than they had been before all that chemo - resting on her cheek.

...I love you! When I’m holding your hand, When you’re making a plan, When you’re thinking a thought, When you’re dancing a dance.

And then...I stopped. Because the world had stopped.

She was gone.

I had watched her last breath. I had held her hand for the last time. I was the last one to see her alive. I saw her die.

I fell apart.

I started crying like I’d never cried before. My parents woke up, realizing what had happened. My brother came back, and I remember us all hugging. I couldn’t stop crying. I was splitting at the seams. I was going to die. I wanted to die. I didn’t want to be in a world that my sister wasn’t a tangible, living part of. Andrew took me out to the living room, guided me to a surprisingly comfortable couch. I curled up on one end of it, just like I do at home, while he went to get the rest of our family. I cried like I’d never cried before.

After a few moments, I pulled out my phone and texted my St. Olaf friends. It was the middle of the night, so I was surprised to get a reply from my close friend Brenna. She had been sending me links to songs throughout the week as I updated her on everything going on. That night, she sent me “No One is Alone” from Into the Woods. It was beautiful and sad and perfect.

A little while later - I have only some dim memories of my family friends coming back from the chapel - Andrew and I ended up on the couch together, with all the adults in the room. We talked. And it occurred to me that this was the last day the three of us would ever be together. Now it would just be Andrew and me. We hugged for a long, long time, and I cried and got snot all over his shirt. Eventually, he got up gently to make us both green tea and get out a box of gluten free crackers. I hadn’t even realized I was hungry or thirsty until he did that. It was still raining outside, but it wasn’t storming so hard anymore.

At around half past three, we all left. Andrew and I went back to my aunt and uncle’s once more, and although I tried to be quiet, I woke up my cousin when I climbed into her bed. She looked at her phone, saw the texts from her parents, and wrapped me in a warm, comforting hug. So many people held me while I cried that night, but she was the one who made me laugh. The storm had picked back up by the time we got to their house, and when a huge streak of lightning, followed quickly by a loud crack of thunder, split the air, we both laughed a little.

“Rebecca must be throwing a party up there,” she said hoarsely.

I laughed. “Yeah.”

That week, and especially the night Rebecca died, has changed me forever, but I’ve grown enough to know now that this shitty experience hasn’t ruined me. It’s not the ending of my story, even though I still sometimes wish it was - and it’s sure as hell not the end of her story either. She lives on in me, and in so many other people - our family and friends, her music, even her preschool students. And even though I still find myself, like that night, sobbing in agony, or feeling empty and lonely and totally wrung out, or wishing the world would end or at least go away...I also find myself, like that night, surrounded by love more times than I can count.

She was always so full of love. Overbrimming. And I have been, too.

I still am.

- - -

I’d still love you no matter what sense it would make. I’d love you whenever, whatever it takes. I’d love you no matter, cause you’re you and I’m me - Together forever, in love as can be. - An Awesome Book of Love, Dallas Clayton