#i will always be so curious what was jt that was trying to be said there beautiful art but at the end of the day im just confused

[juusasu4evagrrl]

I just remembered that a naruto fan art rendition of Judith beheading her rapist Holofernes exists and ☹️

[longeyelashedtragedy]

How would you describe Frank's relationships at home with his family even though he seems to be so messed up and lost in his mind. Do you think his kids probably notice it(a factor could be that his older kids (taking account that their mum is his ex) don't spend as much time with him anymore looking at social media.

Another question is where do you think it went wrong for Frank with his relationship between him and his ex?

Sorry for the specific questions but I just wanted to hear a different point of view as I'm doing research for a fic 😅

Thank you and I love your writing btw!!!!

great question!

i have to say, i hope this part isn't projection because i am so weak for a footballer being a Good Dad, but from what i've seen (and i might have read him saying something to this effect, though not in these therapy language words) he made a conscious effort to Break the Cycle with his daughters and not be a complete controlling dick like his dad. i don't think we know anything at all about him + his younger kids (except for, where the fuck did they get curly hair from lol) so i'm talking about the older girls.

it's interesting, because my dad had an actual abusive and cheating father, and before my dad had kids he said he hoped he only had girls because he would have no clue how to teach a boy to be a Man and would probably fuck it up. luckily, he has two "daughters" so that worked out for him, and he's an amazing dad. i wonder if frank was the same, it could be?

as for the girls i don't know if they just are older with their own lives and don't want to be pictured online anymore, and he respects their privacy, or what. he does reference them in the diary of a ceo interview if you have watched it (if you haven't, and you're writing a fic, i totally recommend it--the two hours fly by i swear)--that now they're at high school graduation age and he's been giving them advice about the future and sometimes they have Disagreements where he agrees to disagree (i bet they're about politics lmao). it also could be that he's sort of depressing to be around right now? like, on instagram JT and Jody Morris and that crowd are always hanging out and playing golf and going to chelsea games and shit and frank is never there which makes me feel he's sitting around in a depression cave lmao.

as for the home life in general it's hard to know but the shit he and christine used to say about each other was cringeeeee. these days they just seem like they're kind of quiet and mind their own business and other than all their money they seem kind of normal? like "dad complaining about women Shopping all the time and facebook wine mom" vibes instead of nouveau rich celebs vibes.

elen! that's an interesting one. i'm not a fan of their relationship. like i feel like he and christine make sense as a couple/(marriage of convenience)in a sense but he and elen didn't make sense to me as a couple. if you read the parts about her in his book idk they're just...weird feeling? it had a very Wow a Hot Spanish Model is Interested in Me??!?!?!?!?! vibe to it and it was sweet i guess but weird. i can't see this dude being married to elen at all really. i think, and i actually think he says this in diary of a ceo as well, it really went wrong when his mom died :( as he said he spent the next year in a complete numb freeze state, was full of random anger, trying to repress his emotions etc, and many things suffered from that including his relationship. i think that could break a relationship up easily, especially if maybe it wasn't that solid to begin with?

(**it's VERY interesting that with both of the Ladies frank had insanely long periods of being...together but Not Married...HMMMM)

these are just my thoughts--let me know if you have any other Discussion Topics, omg. and i'm very curious about this fic 👀

[jaysonsfavwhore]

the favorite [2] - jayson tatum

♪ break from toronto ~ partynextdoor

description: every teacher has their favorite student, and sometimes, a favorite parent. in which jayson falls inlove with deuce’s teacher

warnings: none

word count: 1.7k +

*

Your interactions with Jayson consisted of the hello’s and goodbye’s exchanged when he would pick up Deuce. It wasn’t really awkward, but pretending like the two of you didn’t kiss.

You wondered why he was acting weird, after all, he seemed just fine that day, after you kissed you chilled for a couple more minutes before he dropped you off back home. You waited for him to text you that night but he never did, so you figured he was tired.

But almost a week had passed by and you were fed up with only sending him small waves. You wanted to talk to him more, and hang with him and Deuce more.

Knowing you, you weren’t capable of making the first move, but if you wanted to talk to him, it was time to put on your big girl pants and fuck it.

You knew he had a game tonight, you’ve been secretly keeping up with his games and stuff, not in a stalker way, you were genuinely curious.

You sat with Deuce at dismissal time because he was five minutes late picking him up, so you decided to text him and let him know.

He told you that he wasn’t feeling well, so you being the nice person you are, offered to bring Deuce home. You weren’t complaining, this gave you a chance to hopefully have a conversation with him.

“Come on Deuce, your dad isn’t feeling good so I’ll take you home, yeah?” he nodded his head in response, you wondered if he was feeling sick too, he was looking a little more tired than usual.

Even though JT was stressing you out, you made sure to take care of him and Deuce, you figured out he had a cold, and Deuce wasn’t so far behind, the minute you arrived at their house, he complained about his throat hurting.

“Thank you for taking care of us, of me,” Jayson said from the couch, you were in the kitchen making them some soup since it's what you would make yourself when you felt sick, which wasn’t so often. He was laying on the couch, watching some episodes of Criminal Minds, which you didn’t take him as the Criminal Minds type, while Deuce was laying on the other couch watching something on his Ipad.

“It’s no problem, I don’t want both of you guys to sick,” you turned on the stove and walked over to the living room. Thankfully it was Friday so you didn’t have to worry about going back home so late.

“Listen, I know you were probably wondering why I never texted you or anything, it’s just-,” He started to talk before you cut him off.

“-Hey, it’s okay. You truly don’t have to explain yourself,” You obviously wanted an explanation, but you felt as if the only reason he was doing this was because you were there.

“No, I do. I can’t just make out with you and basically ghost you,” you slightly smiled at the mention of your makeout session. God, was he a good kisser.

“Right,” you nodded your head, not really sure of what to say.

“Not saying, that you’re like the others, like at all, but you obviously know the reason why most girls try to get close, which I don’t really care for at all, it’s Deuce,” You could already tell where this was going, which you weren’t mad about, he was a dad worried about his kid, “I don’t want to keep bringing girls around and then they’re not the one and Deuce gets attached you know?”

“I understand, Deuce is the most important thing to you, and you just wanna protect him,” you leaned back on the love chair that was next to the couch he was at, you took a sip of the coffee you made yourself, you needed the extra caffeine boost.

“See, at least you get it. My relationships don’t work because they don't understand that Deuce is and will always be my first priority,”

“I mean he is your kid, and they have to accept that. You can’t just get rid of him,” you shrewd your shoulders.

“Exactly, and it’s not that I let him control my love life, but I’m not going to have someone around him who isn’t the best person for him to be around,”

“Yeah, plus who wouldn’t like Deuce?”

“You’d be surprised, most girls don’t like having him around,” he shook his head, lowering the volume on the TV.

“They’re crazy, absolutely crazy,” you muttered before getting back up to check on the soup.

“Personally, I think that these girls,” you walked back with two bowls of soup in your hand, handing on to Jayson, and sitting down next to Deuce, “Are fucking stupid,”

“I put a little ice cube in it so it cools down a little okay?” You told Deuce before stirring the soup with your spoon and giving him some, “Is it too hot?”

“How are you so good with kids?” You were so focused on Deuce, that you didn’t notice Jayson staring at you the whole time.

“I don’t know, I’ve always liked kids and being around them. I used to babysit a lot too,” he nodded his head as you spoke, which was nice, it meant he was listening.

“So is there something you can’t do?”

“Whatchu mean?” you asked, clearly confused.

“You can cook, you’re good with kids, you’re fun to be around, you’re funny, and a good kisser,” He said making you blush.

“Oh please, stop hyping me up,” You shook your head as you walked back to the kitchen, now that Deuce was done, you could eat some too.

“If me being honest is hyping you up, then oh well,” he said making you laugh.

“You should be like Deuce and get some rest,” You said as you looked at Deuce, knocked out on the couch.

“Y/N, I’ve been sleeping all day, I’m fine,” he shook his head, “Plus, I’m not just gonna fall asleep and leave you alone, that’s rude,”

“It’s not rude Jayson, you’re sick, and don’t you have a game soon?”

“Yeah on Tuesday, so I’m hoping this is just a one or two-day thing. I don’t got time for this shit,”

You spent the rest of the day talking, he told you all sorts of different things, about Deuce’s mom, and his basketball careers, and other stuff.

“I’m gonna go put Deuce in bed, I’ll be back,” he said getting up before you stopped him.

“No, it’s fine, you rest. I need you to be better before this game, yeah?”

You carefully woke Deuce up so he could take a shower and then go to bed.

He walked you towards the bathroom since you didn’t know where anything was, “Deuce baby, we need to find you some clothes first,”

His room was huge, most definitely the size of your entire apartment. After you helped Deuce shower and put him to bed you walked back to the living room.

“If I kiss you will you get sick?” he asked making you laugh.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t know,” you shrugged your shoulders, ready to sit back down where you were before he pulled you on top of him. His hands were on your waist, and due to your shirt rising up a little, his cold hands touching your skin made goosebumps rise throughout your skin.

“Stop what if I get sick?” you said dodging a kiss.

“Then I’ll take care of you,” he said before trying to kiss you again, only for you to turn your head.

“I have to work, Jayson,” you rolled your eyes.

“Then call out. Your entitled to have sick time,”

“Why are you like this?” You laughed when he was still trying to kiss you, you were gonna let him eventually, but it was cute seeing him try.

“Because I am, now stop playing,”

“Me? Playing? Ne-” he shut you up, lips against yours, your hands around his neck, while his were still on your waist, he finally shut you up.

“Now I’m gonna get sick Jayson,” you rolled your eyes as you pulled back, the taste of his chapstick lingering in your mouth. The secret to his soft, plump lips was applying chapstick every ten seconds, you figured it was a habit he had.

“I dont care, I’ll take care of you,” he laid down on the couch, wrapping his arms tightly around your lower back, pulling you down with him.

Your head was laying on his chest and he made sure to tangle your legs together so you couldn’t go anywhere.

“I care,”

“I’m tired, shut up and take a nap with me,” he shushed you.

You were gonna talk back, since when you told him to sleep he exclaimed that he wasn’t tired, but the idea of a nap wasn’t bad, so you did as told.

You woke up in an unfamiliar but comfortable bed, the feeling of the bed moving is what fully woke you up, “You move too damm much,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up against the headboard.

“And you snore loud as fuck, but a nigga wasn’t complaining,” he said throwing a pillow at you.

“Nigga throw something at me again and I swear to God Tatum, I will-“

“-Will what? I’ll beat you up, with your short ass,” he rolled his eyes before throwing another pillow at you.

“Don’t try me. I bite,” you glared at him before getting up and off the bed. His room was huge, but that was expected, especially after you saw how big Deuce’s room was.

“You bite? Kinkyyyy,”

“Not like that you nasty bitch,” he got on your nerves, but a good type of getting on your nerves.

“I bite, I’m nasty, I like them nasty,”

“Do you really?” You asked, your hand was on your hip, on you raised your brow, something you did when you questioned people, but it was out of habit and you never noticed.

“Yup, too bad you’ll never find out,”

“Damm, that’s crazy. You’re really gonna dub me like that after I took care of you? Niggas ain't shit man,” you playfully said before you tried to walk away, but he stopped you again, throwing you on the bed and climbing on top of you.

“Who’s niggas Y/N? I’ll show you right now, what a real man is, stop playing with me,”

“You won't,”

~~

a little short one bcs next chapter is longggg, and i wanna put some out while yall wait for that. im also still working on a melo story too ;)

[toplinetommy]

Kill My Lonely Nights - Tyson Jost

a/n: after plotting and replotting this fic for over a month its finally here. my baby and definitely my most favorite thing ive ever written. hope everyone enjoys it as much as i do.

tagging @bqstqnbruin​ thanks for being my beta and for bouncing ideas around with me and also my fav josty whores 😇 @justjosty​ @hookingminor​ @farbutnevergone

Synopsis: tyson finally meets jt’s neighbor — and he’ll stick by her side through her ‘i’m a single and independent woman’ phase as long as jt doesn’t find out

songs: im so tired - lauv, troye sivan; better than heaven - slander; cherry on top - olmos, kyle reynolds

words: 20k+

warnings: alcohol, smut, unprotected sex​

“Tyson, you know my neighbor right?”

You roll your eyes at JT’s way of introducing the two of you, because, no, you did not know the curly-headed brunette in front of you. You had seen him in passing a few times when he was over at JT’s but you never learned his name. In fact, the only thing you knew about him was that they were teammates and you got that from deductive reasoning since he was always dressed in some sort of Avalanche merch. 

“I’m y/n,” you smile, sticking out your hand for the stranger to shake. 

“Tyson,” the no longer nameless stranger responds, a quirky smile on his lips.

“It’s nice to finally put a name to the face,” you respond, your cheeks heating up as you look over him. He’s cute in that quirky way where his head’s a mess of curls, his eyes full of joy, and his shoulders filling out the grey Avs hoodie quite nicely. 

“Same here,” Tyson agrees, shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets. You continued to gather the few things in the living room that were yours before finding your phone charger and giving JT a hug. 

“I’ll see you when you get back from Chicago yeah?”

“Yep, have a good birthday!” JT cheers, from his spot on the couch.

With that you bid Tyson and JT a goodbye, choosing to wave at Tyson instead of showing an outright affection towards the stranger. The door shuts behind you as you walk a few feet down the carpeted hallway to your own door. 

“Dude,” Tyson starts, turning his attention back on his buddy from where it was lingering on the now-closed door. 

“No-”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say!” Tyson incredulously interrupts.

“You’re gonna tell me she’s hot because, yeah, anyone can see that. She’s going through this thing she’s been calling a ‘guy cleanse’,” JT explains, putting finger quotes around guy cleanse. Tyson brushes the comment aside, not bothering to ask any more questions. If he’d want to get to know you, he knows he’d have to do it without JT’s help. JT always had this thing of being overprotective over the women in his life, especially being a guy that grew up in hockey with three little sisters.

Another week or so passes before Tyson sees you again. It’s when he’s getting into the elevator after getting dinner with his JT, and you’re just getting home from what Tyson presumes is work and maybe even the liquor store with the purse and lunch box hanging in the crease of your elbow as well as the case of Truly’s in your other hand.

“Hey, it’s y/n, right?” Tyson says in lieu of a greeting. He holds the elevator open for you as you step out, thinking of ways to keep the conversation longer than a simple greeting. 

“Yeah,” you smile, warmly at him. He can see that your hands are full as you try to shovel through your bag in search of your keys as you take another step towards your door towards the end of the hallway. “Well, uh, have a good night Tyson.”

Tyson watches as you turn away with a small smile, and suddenly he’s stumbling over his words, trying to make the moment last longer. He’s rarely ever seen you around, most times in passing in this very hallway and the occasional time JT talked to you on the phone when they were on the road. You didn’t go to games, you didn’t hang out with the team, and you were never over at JT’s when Tyson would show up.

But when he had officially met you the other week when you were leaving JT’s apartment, he was transfixed and curious about the girl JT always talked about but never brought around.

“Do you wanna come in for a drink?” You ask, nodding to the case in your hand. You’re asking as more of a common courtesy than anything else, but you can tell that he’s waiting for you to make the next move regarding this run-in with him. The peachiness of his cheeks and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets are proof of that.

“You sure?”

“Any friend of JT is a friend of mine,” you smile, opening your front door and gesturing for Tyson to go in before you.

“Yeah, okay,” Tyson smiles, taking another step towards you and reaching out for the box of Truly’s. “Let me take that for you.”

Tyson graciously takes the case from you and steps through the doorway of your apartment, suddenly losing any train of thought he once had now that he’s in an apartment he’s never been in. He sees the fridge across the way and decides he’ll just stick the drinks in there. There’s thankfully space in the fridge for them and he watches you shred your raincoat and heels by the door. “So, uh, how do you know JT? Like, I know you guys are neighbors but he’s always referring to you as his best friend. I honestly didn’t even know that you lived next to him until the other week.”

You laugh, thinking back to how you even met JT. It was nowhere near being a typical introduction between neighbors, it was honestly pretty far from that. “So, whenever he first moved here like two years ago, I was sitting in my car in the parking garage on the phone with my dad, and this car parks next to me and the driver gets out and completely dings my car. I’m talking a paint scratch that’s starting to rust now.”

“He’s pretty unaware of his space,” Tyson laughs, knowing all too well that his friend did something like that.

“And so, I get out of my car, and I confront him about it, and he apologizes and whatever, not a big deal. But then he gets off the elevator with me and I’m thinking this guy’s gotta be a creep since he’s barely talking to me but then he pulls out his keys and is unlocking the door next to mine, and now he bugs me all the time,” you smile, Tyson making space for you to go into the fridge he’s currently standing in front of. 

“You see that picture frame over there?” you nod your head to the wall your TV is mounted on. Tyson walks over to it, inspecting it and noting that neither of the people in it are you or JT. “There’s paint missing behind it because when he was helping me mount my TV he hit the wall with the drill. He got me the frame to cover it but I still haven’t gotten around to putting a picture there.”

Tyson’s eyebrows quirk up, “and how long has it been there?”

“Uh, maybe a year?” you answer, your tone making it sound more like a question as you blush. Tyson only laughs at you, fully understanding how something like that can slip from your mind. You offer him a Truly at that, him not missing an opportunity to chirp you since your flavor of choice was lime, even though his was black cherry, which in your mind was the most basic flavor there was.

He sits across from you at the island while you stand opposite of him, leaning on the granite in front of you. He can’t get enough of your laughter, finding it’s something you do quite often as the two of you share stories. You, on the other hand, have to stop yourself from blushing since he doesn’t break eye contact with you once. It’s starting to get late and you still haven’t eaten dinner, so with an empty Truly in hand, Tyson is reluctantly getting up to head home to prepare for his early practice and flight tomorrow. He doesn’t want to impose on you any further, considering you were essentially strangers an hour ago.

You wave goodbye at him as he walks down the hallway to the elevator, a smile on your face as he nearly runs into Mr. Harter, the man that lives at the end of the hallway. You laugh as he apologizes profusely, something you amount to his Canadian upbringing.

Tyson curses himself over the next few days for not getting your number, and there’s no way in hell he’s asking JT for it. He doesn’t know how he’ll go about getting it, and the possibility of him running into you to get it is slim, with the fact that the Avs have a nine-day roadie on the upper East Coast. He figures he’ll try to ask JT more about you over the course of the trip, and then hopefully weasel his way into getting it.

It’s three days into the roadie and they’re sitting next to each other on the flight from Ottawa to Toronto. JT is busy on his iPad, and Tyson looks around him, seeing Cale and Gravy reading books, and G is passed out behind him. Tyson nudges JT’s shoulder with his, JT pulls out his AirPod and looks towards his buddy.

“So, y/n, eh?” He jumps right in, watching as JT rolls his eyes and moves to put his AirPod back in. “You said she doesn’t date?”

“Correct.”

“Why’s that? She seems like she wouldn’t have any issue in that department.”

“First off, that’s gross. Secondly, even if she was dating, you aren’t allowed to try anything,” Tyson chooses to ignore that part but continues to listen anyway. “She’s just like focused on herself, I don’t know. She knows her worth and knows what she deserves. She’s been single for as long as I’ve known her. It’s no bullshit with her, in every aspect of her life.” JT shrugs his shoulders as he talks. He’s not an expert on the topic because it’s not one you really talk about with him considering it’s just not really a huge part of your life.

Tyson hums along as he listens to JT talk, trying his best not to show why he’s even asking these questions in the first place. He takes what his friend says in stride, not being one to have gone through a phase like the one you’re going through. In fact, Tyson’s never been someone to say no to a date, fully taking advantage of the pro-athlete lifestyle he’s been living for years now. JT knows this, knows what it’s like to be 22, and all eyes on you. 

He was there once, but he’s been with Sydney for over two years now. JT knows the locker room talk that goes on within hockey teams, he’s been living it his whole life. Yeah, the Denver room has been the best and the calmest when it comes to comments about guys’ dating lives, but the occasional whistle and chirp is made when one of the single guys has a story to share. The last thing he wants is to hear your name in one of those scenarios.

He doesn’t get your number during that road trip, can’t even find you on social media so he puts his efforts on pause. He even went through the list of people JT followed, your name not coming up once. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know your last name.

Soon January is ending and February is starting, the season kicking into high gear as the all-star breaks ends and the playoff push truly begins. Tyson still hasn’t seen you around other than the occasional run-in, and you honestly haven’t given him much thought since that night in late January. Your life has always been chaotic, but still in the most organized way, and you’ve barely seen JT with the way his game schedule is laid out. But the middle of February brings Sydney to town and brings too many parties while she’s around.

It’s at Andre’s place where you see Tyson again, warm pleasantries shared between the two of you. He’s a little confused as he watches you chat with almost everyone there, the weird feeling coming from the fact that most people filling the apartment are on the Avalanche roster. He wonders if you’ve already met most of them or if you’re just that outgoing.

Tyson finally makes his way over to you, two cans in hand as he offers you the one with green lettering with a smile.

“A lime White Claw? That’s the way to my heart,” you joke, placing your hand over your heart before taking his offering.

“I was asking around to see if there were any Truly’s,” Tyson laughs, waving his hand around. “But I hope the White Claw is okay.”

“A White Claw definitely isn’t as good as a Truly but it’s a close second, thank you.”

“Right!” Tyson agrees, “People think they all taste the same but there’s a clear hierarchy of which seltzers are better than others.” You laugh along with Tyson at his comment in complete agreement. You tell him your own tier list of seltzers, starting with Truly’s and ranking the Bud Light ones as the worst.

“I’ve only had a few of them, but I’ll take your word for it,” The laughter between the two of you dies down before JT finds you, saying he’s been looking for you for a little bit.

“It’s not my fault I’m hidden by all these huge men,” you roll your eyes, pointing around the room that’s filled with men all over six feet tall.

“Did you know your neighbor was a hard seltzer connoisseur?” Tyson asks with a quirk of his eyebrow, causing you to scoff. You were nowhere being a ‘connoisseur’ of sorts.

JT takes a sip of his drink, “She’s an alcohol connoisseur period, bud.” WIth that JT disappears to go find his girlfriend, leaving the two of you alone. Tyson’s face is filled with confusion at JT’s comment, not entirely sure what his comment even meant.

“I used to bartend in college,” you answer his silent question. “Which makes me JT’s personal bartender most nights.”

“Maybe I’ll have to get you to make me a drink sometime then,” Tyson suggests. It’s a little too forward for his liking but it just slips out, and you giggle at his attempt at flirting. His tan cheeks have a pink flush to them, and you’re sure it’s not from the alcohol since most people have only been here for an hour or so.

“C’mon,” you nod your head in the direction of the kitchen. Tyson silently follows you, weaving between the people and the furniture. “I can get you that drink right now.”

Once you make it to the kitchen you look around the counters, taking note of the different types of liquors laid out. Tyson watches you as your hands move around, picking up and setting down various bottles. When you’re satisfied with your concoction, you hand him a shot glass, one in your own hand to match his.

“It’s a shooter,” you inform him. He puts trust in you, clinging your glass with his own and bringing the glass to his lips as he tips his head back. Your eyes stay on him as his tongue pokes out to swipe the extra liquid off his lips before you realize you haven’t even taken yours yet. His eyes stay locked on you as you throw your own shot back, your eyes reconnecting when you set the glass on the counter next to you.

A shiver runs through you as his eyes watch your every move. You hadn’t noticed it with any of your other previous run-ins with him but he’s intimidating in that way where his presence is radiating that good kind of confidence. You watched him, unbeknownst to him, as he made his way around the room before ever making it to you.

“So what was that you just gave me?” He asks, crossing his ankles and leaning further on the counter behind him. You move to stand next to him, your shoulder brushing his cotton-covered bicep.

“It’s called a lemon drop shot, it’s just vodka and lemon juice so nothing too special,” you shrug, turning to look up at him. “Maybe I’ll get around to making you more drinks.”

Tyson smirks lightly at your comment, his hands gripping the counter behind him. He remembers what JT told him not too long ago about you, and how you’re someone that doesn’t put up with bullshit when it comes to relationships and his heart deflates a bit. He’d much rather keep talking to you and eventually kiss you, but he knows deep down that’s not what he wants with you either. He can tell from your brief encounters that this could be way more than just a few dates, so he holds back and instead bites his lip before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He passes it over to you, and you hesitate taking it as you look between the black phone and his brown eyes, “so we can plan a time for you to make me drinks.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” you quip back, taking the phone from his hands and opening a new message and typing in your phone number. You respond back to him on your phone, showing that you got the text and opening up the contact to save his information. “Should I put in some funny name for your contact or is Tyson good enough?”

Tyson laughs fully at that, his chest rumbling for a moment before he calms down and tells you his name is just fine for now, “but I won’t complain if you find a better name for me.” Tyson scratches the back of his head for a moment as he places his phone onto the counter next to him, trying to find the words to keep the conversation going.

You leave not too long after that, catching an Uber with JT and Sydney back to your place. Tyson stays near your side most of the night, giving you a full hug as you leave and a promise of texting you soon.

You see Tyson the next morning at brunch with JT and Sydney, his strong, muscular thighs touching yours in the small booth. You get some fancy french toast, Sydney eyeing you from where she sits across from you. She’s been a close friend of yours ever since JT introduced the two of you whenever she first visited. Her eyes keep flicking between you and Tyson and you give her a stern look, silently telling her to knock it off.

“So, y/n,” she starts, a smirk forming on her lips. “How’s the dating life?”

You scoff with a laugh at her question. She knows well enough how that aspect of your life is doing considering you text her on a pretty regular basis. You choose not to answer, the scoff you let out being enough. 

“Besides, no guy is good enough for her, right?” JT asks, looking over at you continuing his girlfriend’s train of thought. His eyes glance over at Tyson sitting next to you and Tyson ignores the look his teammate gives him. 

“You mean the idiots you always try to set me up with? The ones that don’t live in Denver?” You quip back with a raise of your eyebrows. It’s more of a joke than anything else, but Tyson doesn’t quite understand your tone and mannerisms yet.

His heartbeat speeds up momentarily, thinking that if you hadn’t had any interest in any of JT’s other friends, you definitely wouldn’t have an interest in him. Besides, he may live in Denver now, but that’s not even the whole year when you account for traveling and the offseason.

You miss it, but Tyson changes the subject anyways, which is something you’re grateful for. Brunch passes by and when the waitress comes back with two checks, you knit your eyebrows.

“Actually, could I have my own check? We aren’t together,” you stumble, cheeks heating up at the misinterpretation of yours and Tyson’s relationship.

Tyson takes the check from your outstretched hand, “it’s fine, I got it.”

He’s talking more to you than to the waitress as he smiles warmly at you. You thank him quickly, but not before saying you have enough cash to take care of the tip. He doesn’t argue, following the three of you out of the restaurant and to your car. The two of you linger a little further back than JT and Sydney, both of you reveling in the comfortable silence. 

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” You ask.

“Not really, I was probably gonna call my mom and maybe do my laundry,” Tyson answers.

“Do you want to come over and hang out instead? I’m just gonna third wheel the two of them but maybe we can find something to do that’s more interesting than laundry.”

Tyson laughs at the third wheeling comment you make, being all too familiar with being the third wheel around most of his friends. “Sure, yeah, I’ll just follow you all then?”

“That sounds good. I’ll see you in a few,” you say goodbye with a smile and a shy wave, hopping into the backseat of JT’s SUV.

Once you get home, Tyson’s knocking on your door a few minutes later with the same warm smile he seems to always have. He sheds his winter coat as he enters your apartment, throwing it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He notes the change in clothes, as you’re now wearing an olive green crewneck instead of the wrap top with flowy sleeves you were wearing at the restaurant a few moments prior.

“You a big reader?” He asks, picking up and inspecting the book that’s laid out on the kitchen island. The Power of Now, it reads on the cover. He flips through the first few pages and goes to the back cover to read the reviews.

“Sometimes, it depends on what it is, but I usually just go through phases where I read in all of my free time and then I won’t touch a book again for the next few months,” you admit with a small laugh. “That one’s really good so far though. It’s just about how to live more presently and in the moment.”

Tyson nods his head as he listens, his eyes on you as you speak, “Cale really likes reading this kind of stuff, I should tell him about it.”

“Which one is Cale, again?” You ask, mentally going through the Colorado roster. 

This causes Tyson to laugh, “JT really doesn’t bring you around much, eh.”

You laugh along with him, “not really, but that’s on me sometimes. I go to bed too early for my own liking.”

Tyson’s confused as to why he’s never really seen you before at anything. Guys on the team are always bringing their friends around if they can. At first he thought he just always missed you, but he knows he wouldn’t miss someone as carefree and beautiful as you. Nevertheless, he’s glad he’s sitting in your kitchen right now, and to top it all off, he didn't even have to ask you to hang out first.

“Do you read at all?” You ask curiously. You really knew next to nothing about the man in front of you other than that he was Canadian, played hockey, and preferred Truly’s over White Claws (his favorite flavor was still to be unknown to you).

Tyson chokes out a laugh at your question, “No. When we travel I usually play random games with Sammy and he’s been teaching me French. I still don’t know much so don’t go asking me to say anything.”

“Duly noted,” you nod. You move to the pantry, looking for a few things as you continue to respond. “Like I said, my interest in reading comes in waves and you barely speaking French is better than me only knowing English.”

You continue rifling through your pantry, pulling out everything you know you need. You’ve just finished setting all of the dry ingredients you’d need to make brownies when Tyson asks you what the hell you’re doing.

“I was thinking we could make brownies,” you respond, opening your fridge and pulling out the milk, butter, and eggs. You hear the island chair scratch against the hardwood, indicating Tyson getting up.

“Wait a second,” Tyson says causing you to turn around with a confused look on your face. “Are these the brownies Comph always bringing around that his friend makes?”

“They very much are,” you chuckle. He compliments the baked good one more time before you’re putting him to work. The two of you move seamlessly through your small kitchen, both of you sharing smiles and stories to fill the time. There’s a moment where you see a certain glimmer in his eyes paired with a small smirk and you think he’s about to pull one of his infamous Jost pranks that JT was always telling you about. He doesn’t though, and instead just nudges your hip with his. It seems like you’re looking more at him more than focusing on the flexing of his forearms as he mixes the dry ingredients.

Once it’s time to mix the dry and wet ingredients, Tyson all but misses half the bowl, causing a good chunk of it to land on your crewneck and jeans. The brown powder covered the ‘Disney World’ logo across your chest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Tyson rushes out, holding back a laugh, because of course he would embarrass himself in front of you and mess up something as simple as that. You move to the sink, shaking off the loose contents into it to help alleviate any sort of mess.

“You’re fine, I promise,” you reassure, turning around to give him a smile. He smiles nervously back at you, not fully knowing your statement was genuine or if you were trying to spare his feelings. He glanced at your chest, trying to see the damage he had done before realizing he was staring directly at your chest and his cheeks flushed. You walked back over to where he was standing, giving him another smile as you began mixing everything together. 

“Would you, uh, ever wanna grab dinner with me some time?” He asks, voice higher than normal as he speaks, his heart beating nervously for your answer. Your face falls as you hear the question and you slowly turn around to face the curly headed brunette. Tyson is a great guy, it’s obvious to everyone, and you’re not oblivious to the fact that there’s physical attraction between the two of you. It’s that Tyson is best friends with your best friend who also happens to be your neighbor.

You laugh nervously at the question, the question seemingly coming out of nowhere, before you respond, “Sure, it’s not like it’s a date or anything.” 

You brush it off, even though you’re pretty sure he was explicitly asking you out on a date. You turn your focus back to the brownies, popping them in the oven before wandering down your hallway to change into something clean. As Tyson walks over to take a seat on the couch, he sees your retreating figure as you pull your sweatshirt over your head. He stops in his tracks momentarily, seeing your bare back, the skin between your shoulder blades covered by your lacy bralette. He blinks a few too many times as he shakes any thoughts from his head and continues his path to the couch.

Your guys’ friendship quickly develops after that. The two of you starting a snapchat streak and having a long string of text messages involving various TikTok’s and memes alongside the more serious stuff. You seem to be spending more time at JT’s place when Tyson is also there and soon enough Tyson’s leaving JT’s and going the few extra feet to your place instead of home like he says he’s doing.

It’s one of those rare nights where it’s the three of you at JT’s place and you’re all catching up on the latest episode of Hell’s Kitchen. You’re pretty sure JT cheated and watched the new episode already with how quiet he’s being and how absorbed he is in his phone.

“JT, did you already fucking watch this?” You ask, whipping your head to look at the ginger in question. He’s sitting across the room from you in what he claims as ‘his chair’ while you’re sharing the sectional with Tyson, your feet in his lap. “And you wonder why I never watch shows with you. Tyson and I are going to start watching it without you.”

Tyson chuckles at that, his thighs rumbling under your ankles, his hands coming to rest atop of your shins. JT scoffs at you, unaware of your two’s newfound friendship. To him, the only time you ever saw or even talked to Tyson was when he was also around. Besides, he didn’t need to know the ins and outs of every single thing you did in a day, even if Tyson was involved in a good portion of those things.

You let JT’s previous actions of watching your show ahead slide since the episode was finally wrapping up. JT goes back to the Hulu home screen with an exaggerated yawn followed by stretching his arms above his head. It’s then he turns to his two best friends, letting them know he’s going to start heading to bed and that the two of you are more than welcome to hang out for a little while longer. He doesn’t think much of his offering, but it’s one Tyson’s thankful for if it means he gets uninterrupted time with you that isn’t revolving around the team or drinking.

It’s then he remembers how he never found you on social media, something that had bewildered him in the moment but one he forgot about once he got your phone number and snapchat. 

“So, this is gonna sound totally weird but do you have an Instagram?” He asks, infliction in his voice and ears turning pink at the question. He remembers how not too long ago he did some heavy duty deep dives into JT’s social media to see if he could find your name only to come up empty handed. Your stomach tightens and the thought of him looking for you, and you definitely don’t take it the weird way he’s insinuating.

“No, I don’t,” you respond, sitting up further in the corner of the couch, Tyson bravely holding onto your ankles. “Which definitely makes me the outlier of our generation. I had it for a while but then I kinda just got sick of it and how fake it was starting to get, so I deleted my account. I have not missed even once, too.”

He nods his head in understanding, he’s been there, especially with being a professional athlete. “I’ve been there. I deleted my twitter a while ago because every time I got on there some nobody would be in my notifications about how I was playing. I really didn’t need that, ya know? Like, I play hockey for a living and I’m very aware of when I’m underperforming. So, it was hard when I would get on my phone and see other people telling me the same things.”

Tyson’s fingers began to brush comfortably over your shins and ankles as he spoke, causing you to start slouching back into the couch. 

“I’ve gone back and forth with deleting Instagram but I just can’t seem to make a decision. Besides, I only follow my friends and musicians I like.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone,” you agree with a hum. “The biggest plus is that it gets me off my phone and I’m more absorbed with the real world. It’s all in that book I was reading a while ago that you asked about.”

Tyson remembers that conversation, a smile falling on his lips as he hands rub higher and higher on your calf. The movements are causing you to yawn not a minute later, but you try hard to keep your eyes open to continue to hang out with Tyson. “You a big music guy then?”

Tyson scoffs with a small, playful grip on your leg, “I get the aux in the locker room, so I’d say so. Not a big deal.”

You laugh at his joking manner, snuggling deeper into JT’s couch. Tyson notices how sleepy you’re becoming and he gives your leg another squeeze.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home,” Tyson suggests as he slips from underneath you to his feet.

You chuckle at that, considering you're more than capable to walk the few feet from JT’s door to your own. Before you can respond saying just that, Tyson’s reaching his hand for yours to help you off the couch.

“My mom raised me to be a gentleman, so I’m walking you home even if it is down the hall.”

You accept his offer, the two of you walking in silence until you’re pushing your key into the lock. You turn back to Tyson once you’ve cracked your door open, wanting to take in the silent, all-too-relationship-like feeling this scenario is. Tyson’s eyes drift from where they’re focused on your eyes to your lips, before he’s scratching the back of his head, a sign of nervousness you’ve quickly caught on to.

“Goodnight, Tyson,” you smile softly, leaning up on your sock clad toes to wrap your arms around his neck and give him a hug. His arms wrap around your middle; his back bending over at an awkward angle to properly reach you. You breathe in his musky scent as his hands spread out over the small of your back. The scruffiness of his beard against the side of your face has you giggling as you pull away. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” Tyson reciprocates your smile, walking a few steps backwards before finally turning around and heading to the elevator. Your eyes linger on his toned thighs and maybe even his butt under the cotton of his joggers as he walks the all too familiar way hockey players walk, before finally entering your apartment.

JT’s sitting on your couch this time around, rather than you sitting on his, a too large glass of wine perched in his hand as the two of you catch up. He’s been busy with morning skates and a string of back-to-backs with a road game sprinkled in the middle. It’s getting to be that part of the season where it’s ‘all gas, no breaks’ as he likes to say. They had an earlier than normal game today due to it being a national broadcast on a Sunday, so the two of you ordered take out from one of your usual spots and parked your asses on your couch for the night.

“I feel like we haven’t had best friend time in so long,” JT groans, sipping down the remnants of his wine before standing up for a refill.

“Not all of us can travel the continent on a regular basis,” you chirp with a laugh, one JT matches. The tv show murmurs in the background, it’s one you completely forgot about as JT relates stories and updates on his sisters to you.

“I still can’t believe Jesse graduates soon,” JT starts. “Like, soon when we go to Boston it won’t be the annual family trip since two of the kids are actually in the same city for a change.”

“But that’s so awesome for her, you have to remember that. How’s her season going?”

“They’re doing good, winning games and taking names, she’s really stepped into her captaincy role.” The smile on JT’s face is contagious, causing you to mirror it. You had only met his family a handful of times, only whenever they made the trip out to Denver every now and then. His sister’s, even if you didn’t talk to them regularly, were like your own at this point. JT loved to joke that you were the third sister he never wanted but still somehow ended up with. It was part of the reason he was always trying to set you up with his friends, because to him, if he already knew them, then he knew he trusted them with you. It was more of a joke when it first started over a year ago, but the guy’s he mentioned started to become more serious considerations on your end before you ended up always telling him no.

You were more than okay with being single, being independent, being a woman that never looked for male validation and instead lived life purely for yourself and the people you choose to include with you in that life. JT understood that more than anyone else, that’s why the thoughts you consistently had about Tyson were being shoved deep down inside of you in fear that JT would laugh at the idea and tell you not a chance in hell. It’s why those times you caught each other staring you never did anything about it, or how JT was still unbeknownst to the close friendship you started with him.

It’s why now there’s a silence between the two of you as you take a too-long sip of your wine, a way to stall before opening your mouth and getting JT’s opinion on all of this. You set your glass down on your thigh, your spare hand running along the stem of the glass as you start to speak, avoiding looking over at JT as you do so,

“You know how I don’t date or whatever,” you start, your lip caught between your teeth. You glance over at the redhead on the other couch, seeing him knit his eyebrows as he sets his phone down next to him.

“Yeah,” he draws out, confusion laced in his tone

“Well, I was thinking of maybe getting back out there or something,” you shrug your shoulders, unsure of how to really continue this conversation so you end up on the topic of Tyson being that someone you get back out there with.

“Did someone ask you out?” JT immediately asks with a shake of his head, wondering where all of this is coming from. His full attention is on you now and there’s no way to avoid his eyes as you respond.

“No, I was just thinking about it, I don’t know.”

“Did you, like, have someone in mind?” JT asks, the definitive knit in his forehead still there.

You purse your lips in thought. This would be the time to drop his teammate’s name you think to yourself. His name is heavy on your tongue as you take one more sip of your drink, “Tyson’s kinda cute.”

You say it simply, with a shrug in your shoulders, hoping the ease of your posture radiates towards JT. It doesn’t, just as you expect, a choked out cackle leaving his lips, before he says a harsh ‘no’. The comment deflates you, the knot in your stomach only tightening, mainly because you weren’t really asking him a question and just trying to get that thought out into the open for the first time. JT doesn’t read that as you respond back, telling him was just a thought anyways.

You drop it at that, thoughts running through your head of your close friendship with his teammate, one that’s very close to blurring that line between just friends and something more. It's a problem for another day you think, shoving the thought to the back of your mind as Tyson’s name flashes across your phone screen.

A few more weeks pass of Tyson and you hanging out at JT’s apartment, only for Tyson to follow you to your own apartment before he’d leave for the rink for his game. He slowly began going through his pre-game routine at your place, only to leave with JT under the guise that they would carpool together since his apartment building was on his way to Ball Arena.

Tyson’s cooking his pregame meal in your kitchen, something he had yet to do but when you had told him you had never eaten squash the other day, he made a point to make it his favorite way, even if it meant eating dinner at 4:30. His game day suit was hanging by his coat in your coat closet, you wouldn’t tell him but it was your favorite suit of his. The navy cashmere made the highlights in his dark brown hair pop out and was a nice contrast to his tan skin. He was taking the squash out of the oven, laughing as you made yet another comment on not knowing that was how a squash was cooked.

“What does a squash even taste like?” You ask, peering over the kitchen table to watch him as he places the pan onto the oven to cool down. The bright yellow and oranges of the fruit freak you out a bit, but the smell of garlic and parmesan cheese brings a smile to your face.

“It’s like earthy and nutty, I don’t know. I’m not a Food Network chef.”

The comment has you rolling your eyes with a laugh as you stand up from your chair to retrieve plates and silverware. 

“What are you doing?” Tyson asks with a whip of his head as his eyes follow your movements.

You look at him quizzically, pausing your movements on your tippy toes as you reach for the dinner plates, “setting the table?”

“I can do that,” Tyson starts, reaching out for the plates in your hand and setting them on the counter in front of you. “I’m the one cooking.”

“Exactly,” you reason, “And this is my apartment so I know where everything is.”

“I’m wining and dining you, well minus the wine since I have a game.” Tyson shrugs, tending to the squash on the pan and the veggies surrounding it. “That reminds me, the guys are going out after the game, you should come.”

You move around the kitchen as he speaks, filling up two glasses of water to set on the table. He plates the food as he finishes speaking and sets them on the table. It looks colorful and delicious and you’re shocked he can cook something that seems so complicated, especially since you know JT can only cook a burger and some random pasta dish.

“Well, I am going to the game so I don’t see why not,” you finally answer. You hadn’t gone out in weeks it seemed like, mainly due to your earlier than normal mornings and that you were the only single one out of most of your friends. All of your coworkers lived with their partners and were usually the type to bail on a night out so they could stay home. The few single friends you did have lived on completely different schedules than you, so they were either getting home late from work which was around the same time you’d need to call it a night, or were like you and too worried about early mornings to do anything.

But it was a Thursday, and you had taken the weekend off so it was a perfect time to catch your first Avs game of the season, even if it was already a few days into March and the season was halfway over. The both of you eat your dinner with a few laughs, Tyson telling you about how he forced himself to learn to cook over the past two years of living by himself. He even shared a few horror stories of when he lived with JT and Kerf, giving you plenty of dirt to use as blackmail if necessary. 

“Dinner was really good, thank you,” you acknowledge standing up and grabbing his plate from him.

“You liked the squash, eh?”

“It wasn’t too bad,” you reply playfully. He knew you liked it with how quickly you scarfed it down and the profuse compliments you offered him. As you clear off the dishes and load the dishwasher, Tyson disappears down the hall only to reappear dressed in his suit, save for the jacket and tie. 

“Who are you sitting with tonight? I never asked.” Tyson speaks, making the job of tying his tie look easy as he’s not even looking in the mirror to do so.

“Oh, my coworker, Amelia, and her girlfriend, Gabby,” you respond, leaning back against the counter as you watch Tyson finish up with the details of his suit like putting his cufflinks on and checking his hair in the mirror by your front door.

For a reason Tyson knows too well but ignores, a weight falling off his shoulders as he hears you saying you’re not going with a potential date. But then again, he knows you’re not dating and you more than likely would’ve declined his offer to go out afterward if that were the case. Tyson checks his watch for the time, seeing it’s about time to knock on JT’s door to grab him.

“So, I’ll see you after the game, yeah?”

“Yep, I’ll meet you and JT down by the locker rooms so we can all head out together. Maybe I’ll finally get to meet the infamous Cale.”

The Avs scoot by with a tough division win, one that’s needed to put them in first place in the Central by two points. You’re standing in the hallway of the locker rooms among the other WAG’s that you don’t really recognize due to your lack of knowledge on who’s who. Your nose is buried deep in your phone as you shoot off a text to Amelia telling her to let you know when she gets home safely when you recognize Tyson’s familiar Canadian accent followed by JT’s booming laughter. The two of them reach you, both of them giving you quick hugs before walking to the parking garage.

“Who’s jersey you got on there?” Tyson asks with a nudge of his shoulder into yours. You look down at the 19 stitched into your shoulder with a smirk.

“Only the best Av to ever play the game,” you respond, to which JT rolls his eyes. Tyson’s look of confusion doesn’t change as you answer, still pretty keen to the fact that you’ve never really talked hockey with him besides the stories about practices he’d share with you. “Never told you I didn’t like hockey, just said I never went to games.”

“I’ve tried to get her one of my jerseys and she literally told me she’d return it,” JT interrupts before Tyson can respond. You open your mouth to chirp him back but before you can, JT is calling shotgun once Tyson’s car is in view.

The bar isn’t as packed as you thought it would be, given half of the Avalanche roster was occupying more than a few booths. Andre takes a seat across from where you’re sandwiched between JT and Tyson - a seating arrangement you’re not sure how you got in.

The first round of drinks slowly turns into the third, and you’re no longer squished between two bruly hockey players since JT has found a home at the pool table with Nate and Naz. You had finally met Cale, the blush on cheeks matching Tyson’s description of them. You shared book recommendations with one another while Tyson had wandered off to the bar. It’s then you learn that Tyson’s kind of taken him under his wing, despite the very small age gap and that they live in the same building. Your eyes catch him as he chats with the bartender and a dirty blonde that’s close to his height that you very much did not recognize.

She’s all legs and has an award winning smile from what you see from fifteen away. Tyson’s turned away from you, his back facing you, and if you could see his face filled with that smile that’s showing he’s just trying to be polite to the stranger.

It’s then that you start to fully allow yourself to notice not only the physical attraction you feel towards your new friend, but the emotional one as well. It’s not overwhelming by any means, but the pit in your stomach can only be described as jealousy — a feeling you don’t have much experience with. 

You see two new glasses being set in front of them at the same time, assuming that Tyson had bought the stranger a drink. That pit in your stomach only tightens, the smile on your face from Cale’s story falling as you continue to watch them interact. 

The pair only talk for a few minutes before the girl walks away, a defeated look on her face. With he departure, you make your way across the hardwood floor to meet him at the bar, nudging his side lightly as you mirrored his stance. He smiled as you greeted him, noting that this was the first time in hours he got you all to himself. You were just as outgoing as he and JT were, always butting into conversations when you had something to say. 

“I never asked if you had fun at the game,” he asks, voice somehow still soft even in the loudness of the bar. His voice raises goosebumps on your arms, as you hum before responding.

“It was fun, definitely a good game, just a little too much third wheeling for my liking but I’ll take what I can get.”

The comment is a nod to the feeling Tyson knows all too well, one the two of you seem to always share funny stories about with a dramatic use of eye rolls. You ignore the fact that not even a few minutes prior you were plotting that girl’s death, too busy and entranced with Tyson’s presence.

The night continues to pass with just the two of you in your own little world. You find yourself up on your tiptoes, an arm resting on his muscular bicep as you lean up to speak into his ear. His lips move alongside your temple as he speaks, the scruff of his beard against your forehead causing you to giggle. You’re not even sure if JT or any of the other guys are even still around, but your bubble pops as JT calls your name. You turn your body towards the ginger, your hand on Tyson’s bicep not moving as he says that you two should find an Uber soon.

“Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll be out in a sec, Tyson was just telling me a story,” you let him know. JT knits his eyebrows at the comment but walks outside with a few of the other guys all heading home.

“How are you getting home?” You ask Tyson once you’re face to face with him again.

“Cale and I are gonna Uber back, too,” Tyson answers, his tongue swiping over his lips slowly. Your eyes watch his movement as time seems to slow down as the two of you keep your eyes focused on the others. His eyes are squintier than normal from the alcohol and you’re yours match his in that regard. You’re pretty sure he’s about to kiss you and for once, you’re actually going to let that person kiss you.

Tyson’s eyes flick behind you momentarily before you see his body semi-deflate. He steps away, your hand falling off his bicep for the first time in at least an hour as he picks up his blazer that’s draped over the stool next to him and nods towards the door.

“I think JT’s looking for you.”

Sure enough when you turn around, JT is in the doorway waving his phone in the air and pointing at it, silently telling you that the Uber is almost here. Your shoulders fall as the moment you were sure was about to happen is ruined. Tyson walks you out of the bar, into the brisk start of Spring air. You’re too busy thinking about how you most definitely would’ve let Tyson kiss you and next thing you know, your foot is slipping on the ice and you’re yelping in surprise.

Tyson catches your waist before you can even hit the cold pavement, and again, you’ve found yourself in a compromising position as Tyson’s face is mere inches from yours. You blink away the embarrassment as JT’s comment about your almost accident goes unnoticed by the both of you. You regather your stance, muttering a quiet thank you to the brunette before hugging him and waving goodbye with a soft smile.

“Dude,” Cale chastises, “You like her don’t you?”

The comment made by his building-mate has him stuttering over his words, trying to figure out an answer that’s not a straight up lie. Cale takes that as his answer, though, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh as the two find their Uber.

“Does JT know?”

“No, because nothing’s going to happen,” Tyson answers curtly as he slumps his shoulders in his seat. “JT told me I couldn't try anything and I’m going to try and respect that. Besides, she doesn’t date so it’s not like I have a real shot or anything.”

“I don’t know, man. She seemed to jump out of her seat and end our conversation when she saw you talking to that girl.”

Cale’s comment silences the two of them for the remainder of the ride back to their building. Tyson hadn’t really paid mind to the fact that the second that girl left, you had appeared and stayed by his side for the remainder of the night. He brushes it off, blaming his inebriated mind for the overthinking before asking Cale how they’ll get his car in the morning.

Tyson wakes up to his phone dinging with a string of texts from you, a smile on his face when sees your name across his screen.

y/n: not sure what you did to me last night but this is the most hungover ive been in forever y/n: thank god i dont have work y/n: jt is still sleeping so im thinking of ditching him to go get breakfast y/n: you in? Tyson: im down Tyson: do you think we could swing by to get my car from the bar too? was gonna have cale drive me but if you can that’d be great

Getting ready for breakfast feels all too real as you do your hair and pick out an outfit before finally brushing your teeth. You tap your fingers an obnoxious amount of times against your steering wheel as you drive to Tyson’s apartment, your lip stuck between your teeth as you softly sing along to the songs flowing through your speakers.

Sitting across from him in the diner feels a little bit suffocating, the events of last night replaying in your mind. The path your eyes follow tends to keep going to his lips before you realize what you’re doing and snapping them right back up to his eyes or to the coffee in your hand. Those lips you sure you were close to kissing last night. He orders some obnoxiously healthy omelette bowl with enough eggs and potatoes on it to feed a house of four, while you get classic french toast.

You don’t miss that opportunity to chirp him, the weight finally off your shoulders as you lighten the mood. Tyson never really caught onto your weirdness, thinking it was some side effect of your hangover. 

“Is french toast your favorite food or something?” Tyson asks, mouth a little full as he finishes chewing. You knit your eyebrows in confusion, partly because yes, it is your favorite breakfast food, but why would he think that if he’s only ever seen you eat it right now in this very moment? He sees your confusion, answering your question before you can even ask it.

“You got french toast that one time we went out with JT and Sydney.”

“Oh, it is, actually,” it dawns on you then, even though that morning was over a month ago at this point. It’s sweet that he remembers that, your neck warming at his comment.

“It’s not a big deal,” Tyson shrugs, shoving another forkful of egg into his mouth. And shit, did you actually say that out loud to him? That misstep has your neck heating up even further as you take a large swig of your coffee, mainly so the large mug blocks your face from him.

“Besides,” Tyson starts with a heavy laugh. “You just about inhaled that from what I remember, so it has to be your favorite.”

You drop your jaw in shock from his very true accusation, a slight laugh coming out, “You’re a dick.”

“Hey, at least I’m a dick that paid for your meal,” Tyson acknowledges in a lighthearted tone. You smile at him at that, him sending you one right back. “And before you say you can pay for this one, this is that meal I promised you a while back when we made brownies.”

It dawns on you then, was this a date? Did you accidentally on purpose ask Tyson out on a date? Tyson can sense the wheels turning in your head and drops that topic, instead telling you all about this new artist he’s found on Spotify.

That day’s a turning point for your relationship with Tyson. You end up following him back to his place then, a strange sense of deja vu coming through. The rest of the day is spent shaking your respected hangovers on his couch, your feet perched on his lap, his body naturally leaning towards yours.

Your head’s full of what ifs as you drive the short way back to your apartment, thoughts surrounding the feelings you’ve been ignoring when it comes to why Tyson looks at you the way he does or why he’s always sending you Tik Tok’s about your newfound inside jokes. Your friendship with him is easy, he’s an easy guy to catch feelings for and an even easier guy to fully allow yourself to do that with.

The thought of your friendship with JT clouds your thoughts, though. Unsure of what you should even do considering how quickly he shot you down when all you said was that his friend was cute. You don’t think much of it, knowing that the feelings that are starting to show need to be reciprocated for you to even face that next set of problems.

Soon you’re catching yourself focusing on the number 17 jersey skating around the ice instead of 37 when you have the time to watch their games. Tyson’s eyes are the ones you’re always finding in a room and he’s the one always refilling your drink without a thought. He’s the one you text after a particularly rough day, and he does the same when the Avs snap their eight game winning record. He’s slowly taking that spot as your best friend over from his teammate, a spot you’re sure is slowly turning into more.

It’s another one of those nights where he’s the one you're constantly looking for. This time back at Andre’s apartment with the guys and few significant others as you celebrate yet another Avalanche playoff berth.

You’re drinking far less than the crowd surrounding you, fully buzzed on the atmosphere that is clinching the number one seed in the division with still so much time left in the season. Unlike the group of people that have the day off the next day, you have work, but the thought of missing this night for your two best friend’s wasn’t an option when Tyson texted you as soon as he made it to the locker room after the game was won. Tyson’s hand seems to never be empty, but you soon learn he’s been nursing the same beer since he got to Andre’s. There’s a heavy feeling of contentment washing over him as he celebrates his fourth straight playoff appearance, alongside setting a Central Division record for the fastest team to clinch.

The air between you two has that same fuzzy feeling it’s had for a few weeks now, ever since you had gone out to breakfast with him hungover. The high from the win still filling his veins, that same high radiating towards you as you continually find your way back to his side throughout the night.

Tyson catches you slipping out the door as the sun is just about finished setting and follows you a moment later. You’re leaning against the railing with your arms folded atop of it. It’s the easiest thing in the world for Tyson to step in behind you and place his hands on either side of yours, bracketing you against the cool metal. 

The wind blows through your hair, causing you to push some strands back behind your ears as you breathe heavily with Tyson’s new presence.

“You doing alright out here?”’ Tyson asks, one of his laying to rest on top of yours, you fingers interlocking with his.

“Yeah, just wanted to take advantage of Andre’s view,” you respond. Andre’s place had everything, the view of downtown Denver, the suburbs stretching outside of the skyscrapers, but he also had the best view of the mountains you had seen from a complex downtown.

The silence continues between the two of you, the sound of the Denver traffic beneath you filling it out. Tyson’s chest moves behind you with a heavy breath before breaking that silence,

“I talked to my mom this morning.”

“Yeah? How is she?”

“She’s good, but, uh, I called her to tell her about this girl,” he trails off, his chest inflating behind you again as the nerves start to tighten in his stomach. You remain silent, there’s an unspoken understanding that this is something he’s been wanting to get off his chest, something that you too feel the weight of.

“I wanted to tell her about this girl and ask her for advice because it’s complicated since she’s best friends with my best friend who’s also my teammate and I didn’t know if I should put my feelings aside for the sake of my friendship or if I shouldn’t let my friend telling me I couldn’t ask her out stand in the way of my feelings for her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, the sudden knowledge of the weight his words have. His grip around you had tightened as he spoke, causing you to turn around in his arms slower than you would’ve liked to as your eyes find his. His hands move from the railing to rest on your hips, his grip a little tight yet still soft. Your fingers toy with the hem of his cotton t-shirt, one that accentuates his arms more than you’d like to admit.

You’re not naive, you know that this is that tipping point in your friendship that you’ve been avoiding, yet at the same time anxiously waiting for. He’s right there in front of you, all wide eyed with that playful little glimmer in his eyes and that smile that’s always plastered on his face when he’s with you. It’s the confidence in his smile as he speaks that contradicts the doubt in his eyes and the understanding he has where he knows he needs to take this all slow. He’s not just trying to win you over or get you to bed, he’s trying to show you that he’s what you deserve, that the feelings brewing inside your stomach are two sided.

All of those things are conveyed in the little things and how he hasn’t made any unwarranted moves on you and how he’s always reading the situation before trying anything.

It makes you truly let the feelings you have bubble to the surface as you open your mouth to finally respond, “I don’t think you should ignore your feelings.”

It comes out as a whisper, one where the breaths of air hit Tyson in the chin from how close you two are standing. Nothing else needs to be said, your heart racing in your chest at that first admittance of feelings. Tyson searches your eyes for any sense of doubt, making sure he’s interpreting your words correctly. His hand moves to the junction of your neck, his thumb brushing against the hollow of your cheek. Your hands trail up his sides, brushing the stray curl that’s fallen onto his forehead back in place. He leans into your touch, his nose softly brushing against yours as you close your eyes. His breath fans over your mouth and the hair on his upper lip tickles you before his lips are landing on yours. It’s slow and soft and full of fire as you kiss him back.

You pull apart breathless a few moments later, a smile on your face as you bite your lip. His smile is wider than yours, a sense of smugness behind it. His lips find their way to your forehead, placing a soft, lingering kiss there as he wraps his arms around your body and pulls you tightly to him. A few more heavy breaths are shared before his fingers trail back to your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip before pulling you in for another kiss.

His touches are welcome and the chill you felt earlier is gone with his presence, your stomach tightening in a million knots at the man standing before you. Everything he feels is portrayed in his soft eyes and those several moments over the past couple of months where it was just the two of you, getting to know one another much more than you thought you ever would with one of JT’s teammates. The space he gave you as he let you explain your fascination with living the life you did, one with no obsession with social media or what other people thought and one where you carefully curated the people you choose to surround yourself with.

Tyson had slowly worked his way into your heart, one that now had his name written all over it. You smile at the thought, still lost in chocolatey, brown eyes and the way he’s looking at you like the gorgeous view of the Smoky Mountains isn’t right behind you.

“We should go back inside,” you say, breaking the little bubble the two of you had just created. Tyson understands, knowing where the two of you were, knowing who’s just on the other side of the door. Neither of you make any moves to go back inside, and you bask in the cool weather, enjoying the other’s warmth before finally opening the door to the rowdiness that is a bunch of professional hockey players.

JT beckons for you when he sees you come back inside, too drunk to ask where you’ve been for the past fifteen minutes. He’s dragging you to the kitchen, begging you with his eyes to make the room a round of drinks. Tyson smiles at you from a few feet away, silently telling you he’ll find you eventually. He does, making his way to you when everyone’s drink needs are met, his presence causing your stomach to tighten even if he is standing a few feet away from you. 

Both of you lay off the drinks for the rest of the night, already tipsy enough from your drinks earlier and in a silent agreement that there’s more to talk about between the two of you once the crowd thins and everyone's on their way home. JT disappears into thin air it seems like until he’s practically yelling that he’s called an Uber for you two.

“I think I’m actually gonna stay for a little longer,” you answer, eyes drifting over to where Tyson is talking with Cale and Andre. He sees you glance over at him, sending a smile right back your way causing you to blush before telling JT he’s fine to head home and that you’ll text him when you get home.

The room starts to clear out after that, Andre’s front door opening and closing every few minutes as Uber’s are called and before you know it you’re in the back of a Kia Sorento, laughing at the lie Tyson told Cale that led to him getting an Uber by himself and your hands tightly intertwined on your lap.

You find out a few months later that he didn’t lie, he just told him that he had finally gotten the nerve to kiss you.

The elevator ride up to his apartment is full of giggles, those giggles only continuing as he fumbles through unlocking his front door. He tells you to stop making fun of him under his breath, a blush spreading from the tips of his ears to his nose.

He’s pulling you inside once the door is unlocked, causing you to lose your balance from the pull. Your laughs quiet down as he stares down at you, that smile you're familiar with nowhere to be found as he licks his lips. He’s pulling you in with those big, brown eyes of his and then you’re kissing him wildly, barely a few feet into his home.

“We should talk about this,” you mutter against his lips, not fully wanting to break away from him. He’s connecting your lips before you can continue, too addicted to the feeling of finally having his lips on yours.

“What is there to talk about?”

“Us, what this is,” you respond between kisses.

Tyson pulls away this time, resting his forehead against yours. He knows the logistics of all of this needs to be worked out, but right now he doesn’t want to think about how he’s making out with JT’s neighbor or his inevitable murder if JT finds out before one of you can tell him.

“Let’s worry about the consequences tomorrow, because right now I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he reasons, dipping his head down to place his lips right below your jaw. “And if the way you’re kissing me is any sign, then I’d say we’re on the same page about how we feel.”

You moan as Tyson’s teeth nip at the skin, his tongue poking past his lips out onto your neck and goosebumps are popping up all along your skin.

You give into him then, too intoxicated in his warmth and the taste of Bud Light on his mouth. It’s a conversation for you in the morning when you’re both nursing your hangovers over a cup of coffee. Your lips move along his hungrily, his hands gripping your face before sliding down your sides and squeezing your ass through your jeans. You tug your fingers through the long curls behind his ears, him pushing you against the nearest wall with a thud and a rattle of a picture frame.

Your lips move along his softly, the passion and fire laced in it enough to cause a wave of electricity through your veins and down to in between your thighs. He’s towering over you with his big personality and his wide shoulders and you feel like you need to get impossibly closer to him as you pull him in by the fabric of his t-shirt. His hands fall to the wall on either side of your head.

“God, I’m never gonna stop kissing you,” Tyson huffs out, causing a quick chuckle to run through your body. It’s quick because as soon as the words are out of Tyson’s mouth, his lips are already back on yours.

“You’re gonna have to stop kissing me if you want to fuck me,” you mutter out, a sly smirk on your lips as you watch Tyson’s eyes grow darker at the insuination. The hands that were bracketing you against the wall slide down to your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip again before pushing past your lips. You keep your eyes on his as you suck on the digit, your tongue swirling around it. His resolve slips away from you for a moment, before his other hand drags down your side until his fingers push under your top, the warm fingers ghosting over the skin of your ribs.

His breath is heavy against you, the growing bulge causing his jeans to tighten around him. You’re feeling bold then, as you feel him against your stomach with his thumb still in your mouth and his hand tight around your jaw. He’s frozen in front of you as he watches your eyes, that stupid smirk finally wiped off his face as your hands move under his shirt, your nails scraping against the tight muscles. You hold back both a comment about his abs and a moan at the feeling, all the hard work he’s put into his body clearly paying off as you push his shirt up his chest and over his head.

Your nails drag back down his chest and torso before looping in the waistband of the boxers peeking out from his jeans. His thumb falls from your mouth, the wet digit leaving a trail of your saliva on your chin as you work on pulling his jeans down. His head tips back with a low groan as his member springs free and you sink down to your knees, his hand finding purchase on the back of your head while the other is used to brace himself against the wall.

Tyson sucks in a breath as your hand reaches out to grip the base of his cock, tugging softly a few times as you lick the tip. His mouth waters at the sight of your lips wrapping around the head, your eyes looking right back up at him. You hum around him as you swallow him down, the vibrations causing a groan to escape from Tyson’s mouth. He feels euphoric, even if you haven’t had your mouth on him for more than 60 seconds. His hips involuntarily thrust forward at the wet feeling your mouth gives as you hollow your cheeks around him. 

Tyson continued to moan above you as you moved your mouth along him, both of your hands digging into the flesh of his thighs. Tyson’s hand is heavy on the back of your head, not using it to push you deeper onto him, but to ground him as he starts to see stars embarrassingly fast in his eyes.

He pulls you off him then, pulling you up to your feet to stand in front of him once again. There’s a dribble of saliva mixed with his pre-cum on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb before pulling you in for another harsh kiss. He pushes the two of them to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss as he sheds your shirt and pushes you down onto his bed. You giggle again, the hunger in his eyes all too real as he crawls over your body until he’s hovering over you.

“You’re so fucking beautfiul,” he whispers into your ear, causing shivers to shoot down your body. He runs his hands along your bare sides up to your breasts as he kisses down your neck. His hands brush along your lace covered nipples, making you sharply inhale a breath and arch your back against him. He pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, his lips still nipping at the skin on your collarbone. He looks down at you again, a sensual look in his eyes that you mirror. His lips attach to one of your nipples, the other being tended to by his fingers as twists and pulls the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Your hands find purchase in the curls atop his head, pulling at the strands as he breathes a huff of cool air onto your npple before switching to the other one. He makes his way down your body painfully slow, a trail of kisses being left down your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He tugs them off just as quickly as he stripped you from your shirt, his eyes locking on the sage green thong you’re wearing and the very obvious wet patch between your legs. He’s impatient from the brief blowjob you gave him and the fact that he’s been imaging this exact moment for far too long now. His fingers dip into the strap of your underwear, his eyes finding yours and asking if this is okay. You respond with a resounding yes as he pulls the underwear off of you.

His lips leave kisses along your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as his mouth finally makes his way to your center. His beard is rough against the skin of your thighs, a sensation only causing you to whine as he breathes over your clit.

“Tyson,” you whine, causing him to smirk before pressing his tongue to your entrance. The cool, wetness of his tongue has you catching your breath and fisting the sheets underneath you. Tyson moaned against you at the taste as he licked over you a few more times. His lips wrap around your clit, this time causing a full, throaty moan to release from your mouth. One of your hands found its way to his head, holding him impossibly closer to you, the other finding his hand as he interlocks your fingers together.

His tongue dives into your opening, fucking into you as his other arm wraps around your thigh so he can rub his thumb at your clit. His tongue licked around you entrance, alternating between that and fucking into you. His thumb stayed on your clit, rubbing circles hoping to get you to that tipping point, the one you felt nearing with every pass of his tongue over you. Your back arched off the bed, your hips pushing further into Tyson’s face as you felt your high near. Tyson continued at the same pace, pushing you over the edge as you moaned out his name.

He continued to lick softly at you, his thumb slowing down on your clit as he lifted his head up to kiss at your collarbone. The kisses he leaves along your inner thighs gives you time to catch your breathing, your chest still heaving from your orgasm. It’s short lived as his thumb on your clit slides down to your entrance, spreading your wetness around before pushing a finger into you. 

His lips make their way back to your clit with the same smirk he had on his face a few minutes ago, wrapping his lips around the bud as he moves he added another finger. You clench down him at the feeling, moans and heavy breaths of air escaping your mouth as Tyson worked his fingers against your g-spot and his mouth worked over your clit. Your hand squeezes his, the pressure becoming too much so soon after your first orgasm. It doesn’t take long for you to groan out his name again as you clench down on his fingers, your second orgasm rushing through you.

He stays down there a moment longer, but you pull him up by his hair, just wanting his lips on yours and his body hovering over you. His beard is wet from both his spit and your juices, and it has you licking your lips and craning your neck upwards. You pull him in with both of your hands, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself on him.

The kiss is heavy, his hands running along your body trying to memorize every dip and curve, the heavy weight of his member on your hip. His curls tickled your forehead, the kiss turning soft as he splayed a hand on your cheek to pull you in tighter. The head of his dick brushed over your mound, a shiver running through you at the feelings, your hips bucking up towards his with a small whine.

You reach your hand down between your bodies to tug on him softly, a whine leaving Tyson’s lips, one that’s swallowed by your kisses. It’s unspoken between the two of you as pulls away from you, only to push your hand away from him and give himself a few tugs as he settles heavily between your thighs.

You share a look, one that’s gleeful and full of smiles as he licks his lips and slowly pushes into you. You moan and whimper at the feeling of him inside of you, your hands clawing at his shoulder blades to pull his body flush against your own.

“You good?” He asks, referring to if you’re ready for him to start moving.

“Yeah,” you whine, looking into his eyes smiling, “I’m good.”

There’s a pause as you answer, both of you understanding the double-meaning behind your answer. It’s more than just telling him you feel good physically, but that you feel more than that when he’s with you.

He leans in to kiss you again, starting a slow pace as he thrusts into you. He moaned out at how tight you were, how well you were taking him as he kissed you. He picked up his pace, thrusting into you harder and faster, with more purpose as he rested on his elbows above you, looking into your eyes. You always got lost in those eyes of his, as he hit your g-spot you tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering closed. They weren’t closed for long as Tyson grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him once again.

“I wanna look at you,” he muttered as he leaned back down to kiss you. Your moans filled the room as the layer of sweat started to thicken on your bodies, his chest rubbing against yours. He lifted your thigh and pushed it against your chest, the new angle causing the knots to tighten in your stomach as you felt you high nearing. Your lips found their way to his neck and down to the dips of his collarbone. Biting down into the flesh as you moan out again, Tyson’s pace quickening as he feels you clenching around him.

“I’m so close,” you moan out, Tyson hitting you deeply. He could feel himself getting close too, his hips starting to stutter as he moved inside of you. Your breasts bouncing as he pounds into you, your eyes screwing shut as your orgasm starts to wash over you. Tyson swallows your moans as he kisses you through your third orgasm.

His breaths are heavy as his orgasm comes soon after yours, spilling into you as he slows his pace down and gently lowers his body weight onto yours. You two stay like that for a few moments, catching your breaths and basking in that post-sex afterglow. He removes himself once you’ve both settled, a whimper leaving your mouth at the newfound emptiness. He disappears to his bathroom, coming right back with a washcloth as he cleans you up. You thank him as he runs the cool, wet cloth over the insides of your thighs, pulling him back for another quick kiss before he disappears into the bathroom once more.

When he gets back, he lays down next to you, pulling your body snug against his. His chest is warm and still a little sticky from the sweat. Your fingers draw aimless patterns along his bare chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss on your forehead and you feel the upturn of his lips when he pulls away. You smile up at him then, leaning up and puckering your lips, asking for a kiss. He obliges with a soft hum and rubs your arm gently before you’re falling asleep against him, a few drops of drool falling onto his chest.

The morning rolls around too quickly for your liking, the curls on Tyson’s head ticking the back of your neck. Neither of you are in a rush to move as he smiles against the bare skin of your back, a few kisses being placed there as you hum and hold his arms tighter to your torso. He’s up from bed moments later, a sweet kiss lingering on your lips as you watch his naked form emerge from bed and pull on a pair of sweats. Your eyes watch over the ripples of muscles between his shoulder blades, down his back and over his ass before he’s running around his apartment in search of your thong.

He remerges with it draped over his finger, a smirk on his lips before he flings it at you, causing a giggle to erupt from your stomach. You pull them on, a large t-shirt being tossed your way to drape over your shoulders. You follow him out to his kitchen then, a small pit in your stomach at the realization of the conversation that needs to be had, the small bubble you’re in at its popping point.

You jump onto his island counter, the coolness of the granite sending shivers down your bare legs, his back to you as he starts the coffee pot. He’s just in a pair of sweats, bright red lines on display on his back. You squeeze your legs together as you cross them, the actions of your late night antics running vividly through your mind.

He presses the warm mug into your hands, his now free hand pushing open your legs to step between them. He’s so close then, probably the closest you’ve really been to him with a sober brain. The heat from his torso radiates towards you, warming not only your skin but your insides as well as you smile at him. He’s still got that wide, goofy smile plastered on his face, the one you’ve grown to love and to look forward to seeing.

Tyson’s hands move to rest on the counter on either side of you, the close proximity between your faces causes you to set your mug down and move your hands to his shoulders.

“What’s going through your mind, pretty girl?” The new pet name has you mentally squealing, your chest tightening as your cheeks heat up.

“Just how last night I was so adamant to talk about everything, but now I’m not so sure I want to break our little bubble,” you start, the huff of breath air coming out softly as you avoid his eye contact, even if he is a few inches away from your face.

It’s hard to concentrate on relaying your feelings to him and fully opening up to a man for the first time in a long time with him standing right there in front of you, in all his shirtless glory — the defined lines of his pecs and abs, the veins protruding from his arms, and the few purple bruises you’d left on the dips of his collarbones. It’s always been hard to think straight around him, you realize, with the way his presence gives you a comforting buzz and that warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Tyson’s quiet as he watches over you, he licks his lips in thought, a silent hum of agreement coming out. He’s in the exact same boat, the outcome of this conversation not one he’s too scared of, knowing that the way he feels is reciprocated, but rather what the next step is with the best friend you two share. He’s leaning closer into you, a small smile as he places another soft kiss on your lips. It’s one you get lost in, gentle and blissful as your lips move slowly against his. He pulls away first, something he wasn’t able to do last night, before finally being able to put his thoughts into words.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with this. We’re taking a big risk doing this behind JT’s back and I want you to know, no matter what, the risk is worth it with you,” he starts, voice soft and still scratchy from the morning. “And I know you don’t date because you put yourself first and if that’s what you want to do then I’m okay with that, too.”

Your heart melts at the words, your hands cradling his face. Tyson’s always been better with words and feelings than you have over your short friendship with him. The metaphorical door is already wide open in front of you, it’s just a matter of taking that one more small step through it with Tyson, or shutting it and never turning back.

“I don’t date because most people don’t like having independent girls as their girlfriend’s. I put time into myself to be the best person I can be, not only for myself but for others and they don’t like that stuff,” you start to explain, your hands falling from his face to hold both of his hands. “I like you, a lot, Tys, and I want to be with you.”

He smiles wildly at that, the doubt draining from his eyes as he opens his mouth to respond.

You interrupt him though, with a huff of air as you continue speaking, “But JT’s my best friend and I don’t want to hurt him either.”

And Tyson fully understands where you’re coming from, because he’s been struggling with that for the past few months ever since he met you. He thinks back to that conversation on the plane all that time ago and how JT firmly told him to not try anything, but now as he really thinks about it, he’s not sure he meant it because of him and that it was more so because he cared for you and didn’t want to see you get hurt in general.

You can see in his eyes that same wide open door you’re thinking about, the one where you get to explore a relationship with the quirky, optimistic, competitive guy in front of you. The guy that matches your level of confidence as you, the guy that lets you be stubborn and lets you live out that stubbornness because he’s the most patient person you’ve ever met.

The decision’s easy as he stands in front of you, putting the ball in your court, your lip caught between your teeth. He’s waiting for you then, waiting for you to walk through that door or close it and walk out of his apartment. He’s hopeful, knowing that last night wasn’t a fluke and that all the kisses you’ve already shared are real and full of passion and those feelings you’ve been dancing around.

That’s when you give in, wrapping your legs around his torso and pulling him into you with that toothy smile of yours as you place your lips on his hungrily. It’s a kiss full of teeth as he smiles against you, his hands coming to cradle your face as you kiss. It’s much more addicting now that you’re sober and you fully agree with Tyson’s comment from last night about how he’s never going to want to stop kissing you.

You decide later that day that there’s no rush in telling JT, instead opting to see how things go between the two of you for a few weeks. Those two weeks are full of plenty of quality time, a coincidental home stand falling during that time meaning you get him to yourself before facing the reality that is how much he travels. You’re sure you can handle everything the new relationship can throw at you, the honeymoon phase lasting long as the two of you skirt around how you’ll tell JT whenever that time comes.

“I need to leave now if I want to leave for the rink and not see JT,” Tyson warns, prying away from your warm body in bed. You whined in response, wanting to have his warmth for just a little while longer. You let him escape from your grasp, only after asking for one too many kisses. You follow him out into your kitchen, watching him as he pulls on his shoes and finds his keys.

“You sure I can’t get you to stay for at least a cup of coffee?” You muse, giving it one more shot to spend time with him before your work week starts. You make your way to where he’s lingering in your entryway, looking extra cozy with his hood over his messy head of curls. You wrap your arms around his middle, slipping your hands under the cotton of his hoodie to feel his skin against yours. 

He leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips, giggling when you follow him as he pulls away, “I really need to get going.”

“Fine,” you hum. “I’ll see you when you get back from Dallas?”

Tyson nods his head with a hum in answer, finally pulling open your front door to get to his car downstairs in the garage without running into JT. But luck isn’t on his side this morning and he gives you one more goodbye hug and kiss in the doorway before shutting the door behind him and coming face to face with a certain redheaded teammate a few feet down.

JT’s eyebrows are knitted as he takes his key out of the lock. His mouth opens a few times in confusion before any words come out. “What was that?”

Tyson doesn’t think he’s ever been at such a loss for words as he is right now. He looks between the door he just shut and his friend a few times, trying to wrap his brain around what this scene looks like. It’s not even 8:30 in the morning on Sunday, and to anyone, this looks like the start of a walk of shame.

“Uh, y/n and I were hanging out and we fell asleep so she let me sleep in her guest room,” Tyson lies. He hopes it’s convincing, his voice didn’t waver but his hands flailed around a little more than normal when he talks and he scratched his beard, something he always does when he’s nervous.

“I’m pretty sure I just saw you kiss her,” JT explains, voice stern as he completely turns to look at Tyson. “And you don’t just kiss people goodbye.”

Tyson stumbles over an explanation for that, no logical reason coming to mind.

“You were just kissing y/n!” JT exclaims, a rise in his voice as he starts to fill in the blanks. Now he’s starting to connect the dots of your tendency to bail on him on the nights you’d normally hang out and Tyson’s lack of interest in guys’ night or after game celebrations with the team. The giggling he would hear through the wall late at night, the girly squeals, and the few times he remembered hearing the bedpost hit against your shared wall a little too hard for his liking. “You just fucking kissed my best friend after I told you to not get involved with her!”

Tyson moves to close the distance between him and his best friend, but JT takes one back, effectively cancelling it out. Tyson’s opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out the best course of action for this premature conversation. The two of you had just figured everything out in the past few days, telling JT about your newfound relationship hadn’t even come up in conversation yet.

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Barely two weeks,” Tyson stutters out, watching as JT’s face fills with more anger. “Comph, just let me explain,” he tries again, but JT just shakes his head and heads for the doorway for the stairwell instead of the elevator. It’s a huge flight of stairs given that he lives on the 11th floor of the building. He wants to follow his friend, but knows that space is what he needs and instead presses the button for the elevator and gets in, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

When he meets up with him at the rink, JT’s still avoiding him which is hard considering their stalls are only separated by one other in the locker room. Cale hadn’t even made it to the rink yet, so someone wasn’t even there to put up a wall between the two. Gabe takes notice as he walks around the room after taping his ankles, his eyebrows knitting at the fact that Tyson, who’s normally cheery even this early in the morning and bugging JT, is putting on his pads and skates with his mouth shut. 

It’s something Gabe puts in the back of his mind, just thinking that Tyson had a rough night or morning. It’s during morning skate that Gabe, and almost everyone else, notices something is off between the pair. JT doesn’t chirp him like normal when they take face-offs against one another, he’s not by his side in between drills, and JT sticks his stick out a little too far during a one-on-one, sending Tyson to the ice during a drill that no one should be falling during. Bednar thinks nothing of it, just telling Tyson to stay on his two feet. 

Practice eventually ends but the silent treatment between the two continues. JT’s uncharacteristically quiet to everyone that talks to him, something clearly on his mind. Meanwhile Tyson’s nerves are causing him to not shut up as Cale shares a story about his rough commute this morning.

As Tyson and Cale quiet down, Gabe steps in, pointing between the two of them, “What’s up with you two today?”

“Nothing,” Tyson lies quickly, not wanting anyone else to get involved in this. Even if their captain is just trying to help, Tyson’s not sure there’s anything Gabe can say to help. 

JT scoffs, tying his shoes before standing up, “He’s fucking my best friend.” Cale, who was taking him leisurely time with getting dressed suddenly stands up and crosses the room to where Gravy was, avoiding any possible conflict.

Gabe’s eyes pop out of his head as Tyson responds, “we’re not fucking.”

“So the banging into my wall last night wasn’t you?” JT asks in an accusatory tone.

“Well, we’re not like,” Tyson starts, gesturing his hands in front of his body in a way to finish that sentence, soon realizing he doesn’t want to add fuel to fire by saying he was in fact fucking his best friend last night. “It’s not just that, we’re together.”

Gabe, who thought this was probably a misunderstanding of one of Tyson’s pranks or even just JT not winning a stupid bet, is just as shocked as JT was a few hours agao when he saw two of his best friends kissing. The captain isn’t entirely sure of how to navigate this situation, one that hasn’t really happened in any of his locker rooms. He doesn’t have much else to say to the two of them other than to figure it out and that a girl shouldn’t get between two friends that are as close as they are.

With that, Tyson’s trying to apologize to JT, tell him that there’s more to the story but JT wants nothing of it, and is throwing his jacket on and running out the door. Everything in Tyson’s being wants to follow him back to his place and beg for him to hear him out, but instead he’s racing back to your place, ignoring the fact that he still has to pack for their quick road trip.

Tyson all about sprints up the 11 flights of stairs to your door, knocking on your door with urgency until the door swings open. You move to the side as you let him in, clearly seeing how frantic he is with his flushed cheeks and the excessive knocking.

“JT saw me leave this morning,” Tyson lets out, a little out of breath from his run up the stairs. Tyson’s waiting for you to respond but you’re still not getting it. “He saw me kiss you goodbye and then didn’t talk to me all practice then when Landy confronted us he was just like ‘Tyson’s fucking my best friend’ and I tried to explain but-”

“Tys,” you interrupt his rambling, taking a step forward to reach out to him. Your hands grab his in an attempt to ground him, your thumbs rubbing back and forth on the back of his hands. “It’ll be okay.”

“He literally tripped me in practice today!”

“That’s because he can be a petty asshole. He doesn’t hate you, he probably just feels betrayed because he didn't know any of this was going on.” You try to console him, pushing all of your anxieties and paranoia aside to deal with the panicking boy in front of you.

“Let me talk to him, you need to go home and pack for your road trip since I know you haven’t yet.”

“But,”

“I’ll come over right after and update you, I promise.”

WIth that, Tyson kisses you goodbye as you push him to the elevator with a promise that everything is going to be okay before giving yourself a pep talk and bursting into JT’s apartment next to yours.

He spots you before you can greet him and you can see quite a few different feelings crossing over his face.

“Oh, God, are you here to also tell me that you’re not just fucking my best friend, too?” JT scoffs, causing your heart to plummet into your ass. “I really don’t want to listen to any excuses you may have about this.”

“Stop being an asshole for just one second and let me explain,” you reprimand him, already over the fact that your so-called best friend won’t even hear you out. “How is this any different from the countless times you tried to set me up with your friends? Is this not the same thing?”

It’s a genuine question that shuts up JT, because really, it’s not much different in your eyes. For over a year now, JT’s been showing you pictures of buddies he has from back home or from college or even friends of friends that he’d think would suit you. You had always turned him down because to you, dating wasn’t something you wanted other people to really interfere with, even if some of his friends were young, successful, bachelor types.

“Because it’s Tyson,” JT answers simply with a shrug of his shoulders. You look at him, hands clenching at your sides with the vague and uninterested tone. He’s barely even looking at you as he tidies up his kitchen, something he always did when trying to fill silence.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?” You ask incredulously. “You’ve told me a million times he’s one of the best people you’ve ever met.” You bite your tongue from adding a comment about how he is one of the best people you’ve also met.

“The other guys weren’t professional athletes, it’s pretty simple from how I see it.”

“But you could set me up with your friends from Chicago and New York and Michigan but I find one of your friends here in Denver then it’s off limits? Because he plays a sport for a living? If that’s the case then I shouldn’t be friends with you either.” It’s a low blow, you know that, but it finally catches his attention as he drops the cloth he’s wiping the counter with. His eyes finally connect with yours and it’s then he finally notices how hurt you are by the lack of emotion in both his words and his body language. There are tears in your eyes as you look up at the ceiling to try and even your breathing.

“It's an honor for anyone to have a place in my life JT and that includes you,” you continue. “Tyson understands that. He understands that I'm my own person before anything else but he’s still there when I'm stubborn. I've been single for so long and I truly know what I want, what I deserve to feel and I get that with him.”

You often don’t get this deep with the red head, but his lack of wanting to understand you has you emotional as you think of all the benefits of being with Tyson. The few months of being his friend were a perfect build up to the past few weeks of it being more, of sharing a life with someone else. 

“You know him better than most people and if you can honestly tell me he’s no good for me right now then I’ll end it,” you suggest, your heart beating fast as you wait for an answer. JT has come to be one of your best friends in your life, even if he is just your neighbor, and at this moment it’s hard to think of putting a guy between you. Even if that guy is the first guy you’ve really felt this way towards.

“I’m not gonna tell you that,” JT admits with a heavy sigh. He makes his way across the room to you before continuing. “He’s my best friend, too, and if there’s anyone that knows everything about both of you, it’s me. I guess I just felt like you were hiding a secret from me and we don’t do that, ya know? I just wish you could’ve told me.”

You laugh snidely at that, “Do you not remember like two months ago when I told you I thought Tyson was cute and you shot that down before I was even done talking?”

The wheels turn and the light bulb goes off in JT’s brain as he remembers that conversation from a while back, “I won’t confirm nor deny that I said that.”

The both of you laugh lightheartedly at that, pulling him in for a much needed hug, both of you apologizing to the other. The weight on your shoulders is liften as he pulls away, thankful for the fact that you have such an understanding person for a best friend.

“You want to watch an episode of Psych? I think we can fit one in before I have to leave.”

You contemplate it, knowing that a few miles away Tyson is in his apartment panicking as he waits for some sort of update from you. You know you need to tell him how your conversation just went, but something inside you is telling you that JT needs you to spend time with him to normalize everything.

“Sure,” you smile, walking over to his couch and laying on it long ways, forcing JT to sit by himself in his chair. You pull out your phone to text Tyson, smiling as you type out an explanation.

y/n: just finished talking to jt y/n: everything’s good but i think i need to just hang out with him to make him feel better about everything tyson: you sure? y/n: yes, ill call you when he leaves for the airport💚

Everything gets sorted out when you call Tyson an hour later, calming his nerves as you give him a detailed play-by-play of everything that was said between you and JT. The comfortable silence before you hang up is almost filled with him telling you he loves you, but he knows he needs to talk to JT first and needs to tell you in person, and not over the phone as he boards a flight.

The flight was filled with awkward air as most of the guys saw what happened with Tyson and JT in the locker room when practice ended that morning, and even if they weren’t there for that, they felt the tension between them. It’s not until a few hours later when Tyson’s doing his hair before the game when he hears a knock on his hotel door.

He swings the door open to see JT, his hands shoved in his short pockets as he stares right back at Tyson.

“Can we talk?”

“Uh, yeah,” he responds nervously, stepping out of the way to let his friend through the door. The two of them awkwardly stand a few feet away, that meme about two straight guys sitting six feet away in a hot tub because they’re not gay going through Tyson’s brain.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize about everything earlier. I’ll admit, I overreacted a bit and I shouldn’t have tripped you in practice. It was just a lot to take in, especially because I didn’t really know that you two were that close. And I feel like a bad friend now for not knowing that.”

JT’s apology is way more than what Tyson thought he would get from his friend. He knew yours and his conversation went well, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t scared JT was going to punch him or yell at him or literally anything that wasn’t an amicable conversation between two adults.

“It’s fine, man. It’s on us for keeping you in the dark on this one and I’m sorry for that. I think we barely knew what was going on until it was all happening,” Tyson starts to explain. He’s trying not to look at his feet, knowing that JT needs to see the feelings in his face, those feelings that are very much real to him.

“And it’s real for you? It’s not a game? Because I swear to God, Tyson.” JT darts, voice stern.

“God, no, this isn’t a game to me JT,” Tyson answers quickly, head shaking in disgust at the thought. “I’m not just trying to bag her and call it some accomplishment or whatever you think this is. If that was the case I wouldn’t even be having this conversation with you and you’d already hate me,” he shudders at those words, unable to ever think he could do any wrong to you. “You told me a while ago that it’s no bullshit with her and I know that because it isn’t for me either.”

JT takes a seat on the bed in the room as his friend speaks, taking it all in. It’s a lot for him to take in, but Tyson really is one of the best people he’s ever met and he has little to no doubt that he’s telling the truth about how he feels. If the tears brimming your eyes earlier in the day said anything, you feel the exact same way. The room is silent once Tyson is done talking, his nerves causing him to be quiet for once as JT figures out his next move.

“I hear one bad bad thing from y/n, then it’s over,” JT warns, Tyson nodding his head along in agreement. “And if the guys start talking about your sex life I will be cutting your dick off.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, how’d you get her to go for you? I’ve been trying to get her a guy for forever.”

“Easy, have you seen my charming smile?” Tyson jokes with that crooked smirk of his, happy to see that JT is already moving on from that heavy stuff and onto best friend stuff. JT rolls his eyes heavily at the joke, a light ‘shut up’ coming out as he laughs.

Tyson explains everything then, the same wide smile on his face he had when he scored his first hat trick. He tells JT about how he wined and dined you on more than one occasion, how he learned those little, obscure things about you that you caught you off guard whenever he remembered them, and most importantly, just spent uninterrupted time with you, getting to know the ins and outs of your life. To Tyson, getting you to open up to him was difficult yet still a tranquil thing to do. The latter severely outweighed the former, as the sense of serenity he felt with you would always overpower any of those harder moments.

The team returns to Denver two days later, a quick road trip to Dallas and St Louis in the books with the regular season ending within the week. You can see that it’s that time of the year on both JT and Tyson’s face, their eyes a little more sunken in with the back half push, even if they’ve already clinched the playoffs. There’s only a few more games left to round out March and the beginning of April, the guys’ still waiting on their round one opponent.

Tyson heads straight for your place when the plane touches down late Wednesday night. You’d talked to him every day for the past few days, but not being able to see him much after JT finding out caused a lot of anxiety for the both of you. The problem may be solved with that, but seeing the other would just give you that little extra push that this was the right thing to do.

Tyson enters your apartment quietly, dropping his backpack and suit jacket down onto the nearby couch as he navigates his way through your apartment in the dark. The light of your string lights in your bedroom illuminates the hallway, soft sounds coming from your phone as Tyson walks in on you laying on your side.

“Hey,” he gently greets with a smile, pausing in the doorway to admire you. You set your phone down, turning around to face the man leaning against the door frame.

You smile just as wide as he does, responding with just as gentle of a ‘hey’. That anxiety you felt over the course of the last few days instantly dissolving at the sight of the man in your doorway.

“Why’re you standing all the way over there?” You ask with a pout.

“I can’t just look at you?” Tyson laughs, making his way over to you slowly. He joins you in bed, crawling over you like he’s still not dressed in one of his expensive custom suits.

“Not when I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you complain with a giggle, the same pout still glued to your face. He places a quick kiss on your lips in response, giving into your silent ask while also erasing that puppy dog look from your face. You’d only officially been with Tyson a few weeks now, the butterflies still heavily present in your stomach everytime your lips meet his.

“Do you not have clothes to change into?” You ask, referring to the crisp white button down he’s still wearing. He nods his head no against yours,

“Only what’s dirty from the roadie. Besides, I plan on being naked here pretty soon,” he smirks playfully. The comment has you shoving him off you with a roll of your eyes, only causing him to laugh loudly at your reaction. You know he’s partly kidding, using that as an excuse to get up from bed to go to the bathroom.

When you emerge from the bathroom, he’s finally shed his clothes and is under your covers. He opens his arms for you to snuggle into him. You do, resting your head on his bicep as he wraps both of his arms back around you.

“I missed you,” you let out. “Because I didn’t know what was gonna happen when you got back with everything going on with JT.”

“I missed you, too, but I’ve always missed you when we left for road trips,” he responds, letting you in on a little secret that clues you in once again to how real this is and how long it’s truly been going on for. “He’s fine with everything, he just told me we can’t act too much like a couple around him.”

You chuckle at that because of course that was the part JT focused on when they talked. As you look up at him, your heart is full and your head still has that same fuzzy feeling it always has when you’re around him. With him you’ve never really felt lonely, something you often felt even when you were around people before him. Those love songs you once heard on the radio that annoyed you no longer do, and instead you welcome them when they play spontaneously in the car or at the bar and parties or even at Avalanche games. 

The thoughts swimming around in your head have you swinging your leg over him, straddling his hips with his hands on your waist and yours on his ribs. That doe-eyed smile he has is focused on you, a grin spreading over your face at the way everything’s worked out with him. Your heart flutters as he gently squeezes your side, a small squeak coming out. He leans up on his elbows then, admiring the view he has of you. He slowly yet full-heartedly fell for you over the time he’s known you and you can see it in the way his gaze turns soft and as the quirkiness drops from his expression.

You’ve slowly fallen in love with the man underneath you, too, and you lean down to kiss him one more time. It’s slow like they always seem to be with him in scenarios like this, where it’s just the two of you and the sounds of your breathing.

The playoffs fly by quickly with the pace they’re winning at, a WAG jacket wrapped tightly around your shoulders to every game you make it to. A new one is shoved into your hands at the start of the Stanley Cup playoffs, Mel telling you it’s a special occasion that calls for a new jacket, even if it is just for a series and even though you’ve just barely broken in your first one.

You go into that offseason with your newly crowned Stanley Cup Champion of a boyfriend, flying out to Chicago over the summer for JT’s day with the cup and spending a whole week in St. Albert when its Tyson’s turn with it.

And that picture frame you never found a picture for that’s hanging up on your wall by your TV? It’s been occupied now with a photo of you sandwiched between JT and Tyson on the ice after Game 6 against the Tampa Bay Lightning, the Cup on the ice in front of the three of you, faces full of glee with confetti falling around you.

Plus One

The pitter patter of small feet running along the hardwood floors of the hallway, followed by a squeal of ‘daddy’ has you setting your glass down and following after her. Your daughter’s giggle is heard through the house, the familiar sound of your husband dropping his bags by the front door following soon after.

“What’re you still doing up, baby girl?” Tyson chastises the four year old as you round the corner to find the two of them still by the door, your daughter in Tyson’s arms as he gives her a kiss.

“Sage said she wouldn’t go to bed until daddy came home for story time,” you answer for Sage. She only giggles in response.

“How about you go get in bed and mommy and daddy will come tell you a story in a minute?” Tyson asks, playing with her little fingers.

“Okay daddy!” She agrees instantly, running all the way up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. The brown curls she got from Tyson bounce as she runs, your heart warming at the heavy resemblance she has to her father.

“How are you doing, baby?” Tyson hums as you give him the usual welcome home kiss, his hand coming to rest on your protruding stomach.

“Good, the back pain is much more manageable now, but I’m still going to the bathroom every hour it seems like,” you shrug as you answer. He’d been on the longest road trip of the season so far, one that means the season is almost over. You’d tried extremely hard this time around to get pregnant at the right time so your next child would arrive during the offseason and not in the middle of the conference finals like your first did a few years ago.

“Soon enough we’ll have her running and occupying all of Sage’s free time,” Tyson muses, the two of you making your way to your bedroom so he could change into comfier clothes. You smile at the thought of Sage finally having a little sister to play with and hopefully become best friends with.

When you don’t get to Sage’s room fast enough, she’s racing into yours and Tyson’s room and plopping down onto your spacious bed. You join her, Tyson following, knowing that she’d much rather be sandwiched between the two of you than in her tiny bed in her own room. She leans into her dad’s side, something she’s always done, but you don’t mind — you love seeing them get so close.

“Did you bring a book, sweetie?” You ask her, taming some of her curls.

“No, tell me the story of how you met daddy again,” she proposes, causing you and Tyson to share a look. It’s her favorite story, one she asks you to relay to her at least once a week, and the one she asks for the most when Tyson’s been gone.

The two of you tell the story to her anyway, taking turns as you tell her how upset Uncle JT was about the two of you dating, all the way to the jokes he made sure to make when he gave a speech at your wedding six years ago now.

[lampmeeting]

D for Charles/Magnus, I for Magnus/Toki, L for Charles/Pickles, and F for Melm/JT.

eeehEHEHEHE DILF *rubs my little hands together* don't mind if i do~

D for Drunken Love Confession - Charles/Magnus

pre-klok. :') magnus has been chipping away at charles' resolve. there's just something about the bookish, put-together little chuck offdensen that makes magnus wanna break through all his defenses and see him come undone. he always did like a challenge. they have heated, passionate debates about the direction of the band. they get in each other's faces. magnus even kissed him once, but charles pushed him away, furious and blushing, and demanded he leave his office.

after six months of this weirdly charged back-and-forth they have, the band invites charles to come drinking with them to celebrate pickles' birthday. charles declines, concerned they're just inviting him to come because they want someone else to play designated driver. but magnus intervenes like "nah i'm driving tonight, promise. so go nuts." and charles seems to think it over... and eventually agrees.

so they all go out! at first charles seems to be pacing himself, but pickles gets shots, and it's all downhill from there. magnus, staying dutifully sober, watches the rest of the band + charles get sloppy and silly, not minding in the slightest the way charles leans against him a little in the booth and touches him when he laughs. he starts to regret not getting drunk himself, but he'd promised charles. it's enough just to see charles' mask slip, albeit not quite in the way magnus wanted. but he'll take it for now.

at the end of the night, magnus drops the band off at the apartment and then continues on to charles' place. he pulls up, and charles tries to get out of the car, but stumbles and falls. he's a lot more fucked up than magnus suspected. magnus helps him to the door, but charles seriously looks like he's about to black out, so he takes him inside, cleans him up a little, and puts him to bed (on his side, in the recovery position, he knows the drill). before he leaves, he can't help himself... he runs fingers through charles' sweaty hair and strokes his jaw. charles opens his eyes, seeming surprised that magnus is still there, and then... he smiles at him. a genuine smile. and as his eyes close again, he whispers something that freezes magnus in place.

"...mmfm...mmlove you..."

"...what?"

but charles is under again, and magnus leaves in a panic. charles doesn't, can't, have feeling for him. that's too much. magnus just wanted some fun, right? maybe get charles worked up enough for an angry fuck. but...love?

magnus can't sleep. the next time magnus sees charles, charles pulls him aside. "i apologize that you had to babysit me like that the other night. i can't exactly recall everything that happened, so if i said or did anything, ah...embarrassing, i'm very sorry."

so charles doesn't remember what he said. or he does and he's just trying to save face. magnus should be relieved about this, but for some reason his heart feels suddenly sore...

"oh, yeah, no...you were out like a light. don't worry about it."

--

I for "Idiots in Love" - Toki/Magnus

post-post-galaktikon. weirdly enough i'd probably write this from like nathan's pov or something. he's having everyone over to the house for some reason, maybe a holiday or his daughter's first birthday or something (her cool uncles wouldn't dream of missing it). this means..... rrugghhgh magnus is coming over. it's the first time he's interacted with magnus since pickles and charles' wedding, so maybe a good couple years, and he's not looking forward to it.

everyone arrives. toki and magnus are the last to show up, and nathan has to do a double-take because this is SO not magnus. half his hair is back in a ponytail, he's let his beard grow in some, and he's wearing a sweater?? and he's smiling? he genuinely seems happy to see nathan, gives him a hug, says a warm hello to abby.

over the course of the afternoon nathan has to keep looking at him and reminding himself that's magnus fucking hammersmith because he's just so... animated? friendly? he's sitting next to toki and they're holding hands, and when others are talking the two of them are making eyes at each other and cuddling and laughing at little things they seem to be sharing between themselves. they're being a couple of absolute goofballs together, and honestly it's a bit sickening to watch. is magnus just faking this?

at some point nathan excuses himself to the kitchen for something, and while he's in there he's joined by magnus, considerably more subdued.

"sorry, man, i just...i thought maybe we could talk for a sec."

so they talk. they catch up a little. nathan learns magnus has been hitting the therapy especially hard over the past year, making some meaningful strides. it's not an act, he's genuinely happier now. or at least trying to be.

"i mean, you know how it is, nate, right? doesn't abby make you wanna be better just because she exists and she loves you?"

okay, nathan can understand that. he still doesn't understand... them. but it really seems like magnus has turned a corner, which... good for him, he supposes. as long as he's treating toki well.

when they return to the party, nathan watches magnus sit back down with toki and give him a kiss like he'd been gone all month, and they giggle to themselves again. this time, it seems...all right.

--

L for "Love at First Sight" - Charles/Pickles

i'm gonna flip the script here!! i've already done the whole "charles sees pickles on stage and goes gaga for him" twice now... so i'd pull away from the 80s and do a fic where they actually did meet for the first time in the mid-90s when pickles was in dethklok.

so they've got their shitty original manager (the one from doomstar) still, and he's just not pulling his weight. he's managing a few other bands and his heart isn't in dethklok the way it used to be. pickles is worried they're stagnating, and when he learns that it's been magnus lately making sure they get booked, that's the last straw. they all come together, and they tell the dude to fuck off. but then this leaves them without a manager. magnus offers, but pickles has already been wary about how possessive magnus seems about the band recently, so when pickles says no the rest of them vote the same.

pickles blows through his old contacts looking to dig up some manager from his past who can either wants to manage dethklok or has connections to someone else. no dice. skwisgaar comes up with no one. magnus is still trying to campaign for himself. shit gets dire when somehow seth finds out dethklok is lacking management and leaves pickles a voicemail offering his "valuable fuckin' services". pickles blows his fucking top, swearing and screaming. "HOW HARD IS IT TO FIND ONE GUY CAPABLE OF MANAGING A FUCKIN' BAND??"

the doorbell rings, and pickles, still raging, throws it open.

"WHAT??"

"ahh!"

it's just... a dude. like a normal-ass dude. glasses. a nice dress shirt and slacks. nice hair. handsome. he's nervous as shit, but that almost makes him more handsome.

"i, ah...i-i was told that van on the street belongs to, ah...to someone here? i clipped the, ah, the bumper. just a little. but it's noticeable."

anger forgotten, pickles just... stares at him. are his eyes green or brown? and that jawline...

the man shifts his weight just a bit, peeking into the apartment with wide, curious eyes. "sorry, that, ah... that's quite the drum kit."

"huh?" pickles looks back at it and steps inside, and the man follows as if he's simply meant to be there. "oh, yeah, thanks. you play?"

"hardly. a small jazz kit in college for a friend's music project but it, ah, obviously didn't go anywhere." the man glances around and seems to realize that he's just waltzed inside. "right, ah, so about the van--" he pulls out his card. charles f. offdensen of finch & associates. an honest-to-god lawyer. huh. so he's a smart guy. good-looking to boot. knows a bit about music, apparently. and he's looking to make things right about hitting the van...

pickles smiles, hearts in his eyes. "ya like metal, charlie?"

--

F for "Fake Dating" - Melmord/Twinkletits

aaahahah... okay. so, this would be when melm is living with john as part of his continued therapy. a few months pass, and they've actually become good friends, melm thinks, not just therapist and patient. it's nice living there with john.

and then, john gets a call from his ex-wife, joy. she's in town, and she wants to come over for dinner one night before she leaves. the only thing is, she's got her new fiance in tow. she and john ended on pretty mutual terms, so there's really no bitterness there, but even so, john knows it's going to be an unpleasant evening. and then there's the question of what to do about melmord.

"you can just stuff me in a back room and pretend i don't exist. i'll be real quiet."

"absolutely not, you've been watching too many sitcoms."

"excuse you, that's jane eyre."

john just doesn't exactly know how to approach explaining melmord's presence in the house. because he knows joy, and joy will ask.

"tell her i'm a friend who needed a place to crash?"

"joy knows i don't do friends anymore."

ouch go melm's feelings.

"well, uh... you could just tell her the truth? that i'm your patient and i live with you?"

john pulls a face. "absolutely not."

in a flash of sitcom inspiration, melm snaps his fingers. "i got it! i'm your boyfriend! we'll pretend to date!"

"pretend to--?? mel, honey, no. okay? i understand you're trying to help, but--"

"but what? what's your brilliant idea, doc?"

cut to john introducing melmord to his ex-wife.

"and this is my... well, he's uh, my boyfriend actually. my boyfriend melmord."

melm is all smiles as he leans in and takes joy's hand. "please, just call me mel."

and then of course at the end of a long night, joy and her fiance leave, and john and melm pat each other on the back for a job well done. they really gave it their all, put on a convincing performance full of long embraces and doting glances and romantic touches. neither of them really want to talk about how easily it came to them, and how unwilling they both are to bring it to an end.

"well, uhh... good night, then." john chuckles. "darling."

"yeah, haha, sleep good, uh... sugarbear."

they laugh. they're standing in the hall laughing. they should really move apart from each other and go to their respective rooms if they're going to sleep, but they're not moving. and they're still laughing. and now melmord is touching john's shirt, fingering a button, and john has a hand on melm's hip...

"maybe," melm says quietly, "we can just pretend for, like... a little longer?"

[brightmalcolm]

What are some of Malcolm’s behaviors, especially from the pilot that puts him on the spectrum? I’m asking because I’m curious, i didn’t notice any behaviors that set him apart. Thanks for answering although I don’t think you’ll mind talking about autistic Malcolm.

Thanks for the question! I’m actually working on a master post of Malcolm’s autistic traits so I’ll just pull some highlights from there.

First of all, here is a list of autistic traits found in adults that I think Malcolm fits: 

Difficulty regulating emotion

Difficulty maintaining the natural give-and-take of a conversation; prone to monologues on a favorite subject

Strict consistency to daily routines; outbursts when changes occur

Exhibiting strong, special interests

Inflection that does not reflect feelings

You’ve always wanted a best friend, but never found one.

Seeming blunt, rude or not interested in others without meaning to

Finding it hard to say how you feel

Not understanding social "rules", such as not talking over people

Noticing small details, patterns, smells or sounds that others do not

(sources: x, x) 

Pilot

The cicada scene: Malcolm is shown to be hypersensitive to sound. 

Correcting the FBI: Idk how relatable this is to other autistic ppl but I have a problem with correcting people. 

Malcolm’s routine: Autistic people often have very strict routines. 

Meeting JT and Dani: Malcolm is shown to be rather uninterested in introducing himself at the crime scene. He is hyperfixated on seeing the body; while Gil is introducing him to Dani, Malcolm is only focused on reading the case file and when he’s introduced to JT, he’s looking over his shoulder to see the body. (x)

“Most food makes me sick”: Autistic people tend to be “picky eaters,” due largely to the texture of food, since we’re hyper sensitive to things like that.

The rest of the show

Social awkwardness: We see Malcolm rehearsing what to say to the team before he gives them lollipops in 1x03. In 1x05, Malcolm tries to relate to JT by talking about “the game”, despite not really knowing what he’s talking about. He also uses very formal and academic language even when around people who may not understand and is, like JT says, “always overdressed” bc suits are what he feels comfortable in. He’s also repeatedly shown to have difficulty maintaining friendships and other personal relationships, despite having a gift for “reading” people. 

Infodumping: We see Malcolm do this twice; in 1x13 when he gets excited about The Count of Monte Cristo and starts talking about the plot of the book until Gil reminds him they just need to know the basics and again in 2x01 when he’s talking about the guillotine. 

Special interests: This goes with the above point, but Malcolm is shown to have a great knowledge on specific subjects (criminology, psychology, literature, antique weaponry). 

Copying body language: When Gil yells at him in 1x03 about pushing the dude off the roof, Malcolm doesn’t know how to position himself so he looks over to Dani and stands like she is, with his hands clasped in front. You see this again in 1x16 when Vijay punches Malcolm’s shoulder and calls him “buddy”, Malcolm repeats what he does.  

Fidgeting: Malcolm’s hands are always in motion. This could be an example of autistic stimming. 

Routine: Malcolm still sees his childhood therapist bc he’s resistant to change.

Inappropriate reactions to things that would upset others. 1x03: Malcolm asks Elaine Page (?) to sign his book despite just informing her that her colleague was murdered and doesn’t understand why she looks confused at his request. 1x07: Malcolm: They’re just now realizing the pleasure they feel from inflicting pain. JT: Could you at least try to sound disturbed by that? 1x09: Malcolm: Murder? Great! Uh, sorry, I don’t mean great as in...forget it.

Shut downs/going non verbal: Malcolm canonically did this after his father was arrested.

“One track mind:” Malcolm hyperfixates on murder cases. 

Issues with food: Has “same foods” (licorice) and in 1x12 makes a point about how he’s sensitive to the color of jello and can tell the different flavors apart even when the colors are very close. 

This is just what comes to mind first; like I said I’m working on a more in depth post. Check out my autistic Malcolm Bright tag if you want more examples/headcanons :)

[voidcat]

— Seijoh 4 & dom!reader

a/n: this is legit my first time writing nsfw so yea b kind pls. I was getting tired of sub!reader stuff and I’m not the most sexual person but yea have a lil dom!reader w the boys,,, as a treat,, I’d also like you all to know that Nicole enabled this... thanks for supporting the sad horn knee hours wife<3

mostly gender neutral reader but i just realized i used nicknames “miss/mistress” few times so yea

Hanamaki Takahiro:

Oh boy is he excited!.. the moment this slips out of your mouth, he is fuming, vibrating from where he’s sitting and can’t wait to get home.

He is always open to try new things. Back in the day you two tried a thing or two but you were unsure how he’d act so you downplayed often... but now that knowing you’re a dom, the things you can do with the trust you share, shit, did it get hot in here?

On random days, he’ll just go “hey babe what do you think of this?” And show you a page of strap ons, for you to choose. some days he’ll practically beg to be pegged. he loves your demanour when you’re in charge, the air within you when you’re the one in control is, comforting but each night a new adventure and he just can’t get enough of it, of you.

Probably the two of you start with a basic list of things to try and see what he is into. When it comes to spanking, you warn beforehand again and say you’ll do it only once. Holding back yourself and smacking him as lightly as you can, you watch his face for any changes. The moment your hand makes contact with his skin, he lets out a “yelp!” and you stop right there, growing worried. Instead of a face in pain, teeth clenched and brows furrowed; he has the most satisfied and flushed face, eyes half closed and glossy and mouth slightly open. “Do it again babe, but harder this time? Please?”

He probably gets on your nerves on purpose & loves it when you call him a brat or your good boy. Some days he’ll just call you to hang out at his place and when you arrive, you find him spread on the bed, touching himself, his eyes on your figure, staring right into your eyes “hope I haven’t disobeyed or crossed any lines Miss” (he’ll be pissing you off on purpose during your movie nights and let you teach him a lesson right on the couch, the counter or the table...)

Def calls you praises and names (especially titles, telling you over and over how much he loves and enjoys you, how he loves to be drowned in your presence, begging you for anything, even the tiniest bit of a kiss. 

He likes to shower together after a long night and wash each other’s hair, gently massaging your scalp and placing kisses all over your shoulders and the top of your head; whereas you gently kiss the places you’ve bitten and bruised, smothering his face with kisses.

Oikawa Tooru

This boy here, loves to act tough and all but let’s face it, he is a switch. It’s a typical Never Have I Ever game and at one point bedroom talk enters the game. He takes notes of the things you drink to, curious and you swear you catch a spark of excitement when you make it plainly obvious you’re a dom. Although that spark leaves as fast as it has appeared and you brush it off as a play of light.

That night when you return home, he practically jumps at you, a little rougher than usual and you’re sure why. Letting him pin you to the wall, hands roaming your body greedily, you let him live out the fantasy. The kisses now rough, one minute his lips on yours, the next on your neck, shoulders, collarbones... desperate to sink his teeth in and leave some marks. You think to yourself, that’s enough.

Next thing Oikawa knows, he is the one pinned to the wall, his wrists pinned above his head. With your unoccupied hand, you graze your finger lightly on his figure, jaw, neck and chest. “Someone is feisty.” he won’t tell at first but definitely got a thing for being marked and marking, and honestly? you don’t need him to tell you that.

orgasm denial!!! lots of it!! first two times you take pity on him and let him but the third time? the smug bastard is so sure you will let him come again but surprise!, as soon as you come, you leave him high and dry. he tries solving the issue by himself (which only makes things worse) after like 5 days of no orgasm on his part, he finally gets the clue, is on his... better behaviour; once you allow him to come, the days long of wait is worth the pleasure but he learns not to test you like this again. (however, this won’t stop him from disobeying you few more times just to get you to be rougher)

public teasing!! pda is already a given but you guys use remote controlled toys some days (usually you have the remote and he is the one who does his best to keep quiet) the driving and being near the edge of his climax is painful but he manages to hold himself until you two return home (or find a safe place to take care of it) and the endless wait and your cruel play with the toy’s settings is worth the wait. oikawa shivers every single time.

besides these, he likes to dress up and put on make up. and he is quite picky when it comes to lingerie the two of you wear, he checks the fabric qualities and colors beforehand, after all you only deserve the best of the best. he’ll be picking palettes to compliment your features best, loves using highlighter and always picks a dark shade of lipstick for each other; just to see how many times you’ll have to reapply until you’re both covered in its colors.

Iwaizumi Hajime

Ok so I know he has the brute facade going and everyone thinks he’s a dom but hear me out: actually quite soft switch/sub-leaning iwachan

Its a night out w the gang and during a drinking game oikawa makes a snark at you being such a dom in the streets AND in bed. to this blood rushes to Iwa’s cheeks and not many pay attention to it, bc he gets blushy easily plus he has been drinking too. but his mind? Oh he’s for sure imagining scenarios on what you could do to him.

Orgasm denial isn’t much of a thing because he’s very obedient. he’ll do his best to please you and follow your each and every word, watch your lips to hear your next words. for him, your word is law at this point... it’s almost impossible to deny him or those puppy eyes and those sweaty arms anything. He will call you ma’am, mistress, your highness, my goddess... whatever you wish and do not wish for. He loves praising you and ramble about how perfect and holy, etheral and magnificent you are.

lowkey into being tyed up, handcuffed and/or bondage. absolutely loves seeing you in full control. some days you won’t even bother to get undressed while he’s squirming under your touch fully stripped, begging for the tiniest bit of release. sometimes you’ll do the smallest gesture of taking control and he’ll be drooling, not even joking, this man LOVES IT when u take the ropes into ur hands (both metaphorically and literally) loves to lose control and wait for you to do whatever your heart desires, he wants to be what you desire.

(lowkey got a “corruption kink” too) when you two decide to shake things up a bit one day, you bring up some games, activities and kinks (mostly stuff he has only heard of) and, and he’s hard on the spot. lowkey into you wearing leather and gagging him up, his hands tied. he doesn’t mind blindfolds but watching you is so breathtaking, he even does his best to blink as little as possible. he loves it when you ride him to the point of orgasming for the 6th time that day, he’s ready to do anything for you, be your good boy and please you til world’s end.

very very good at oral too, his arms arent the only muscles he’s good at using, he loves your taste, your fingers in his mouth, his fingers in your mouth and in you. feeling your warmth however you want is enough to be content.

not something you do often but having sex in front of the mirror, seeing you in different angles drives him crazy, watching you covered in sweat, shining, panting, telling him how good you are is enough to make him drunk. but still he prefers to be chest to chest, you in his lap, riding him as he holds you to his chest, feeling your skin against his, burning with each move, rubbing against each other.

Matsukawa Issei

of all his relationships and hookups, Issei always encountered subs. few times his partners were doms, they were still submessive to him so when he finds out realizes you’re a dom, needless to say, he’s intrigued...

it kinda starts off with sex in front of a mirror one night, your back pressed against his chest, you’re riding him as his face buried in yourneck and his hands howering over you and suddenly, you grab his hands and out them at his sides, hold his chin and make him look at the mirror: “now watch hoe good i’ll be fucking you and your brains out until you won’t get a coherent sentence out.” you whisper in a low voice and do you deliver as you’ve said? but he got tricks up his sleeve too...

Most of the time, it’s rough and the fire play as well as powerplay takes most of the time. There’s always a battle for dominance, which leaves you both covered in marks and bruises. To say neither of you like it, would be unfair, especially when he disobeys you or flirts with other people beforehand, stepping on your nerves on purpose. (the quiet moans he lets out as you bite his neck, his collarbones, his earlobe, chest and thighs is an indicator if you ever need one.)

And thighs! Lots of thigh biting, massages, rubbing with fingers, or just squeezing the others head inbetween thighs is a given during oral and any foreplay that involved pecks and love bites in that area.

And as it is rough, you two always take your time, having a gentleness to jt in your own way. Be it a soft kiss out of nowhere, a certain way of bucking your hips or thrusting his hips into you. And as things are rough, it’s also when you get to let it all out, be yourself, unstrained.

Some days you’ll drop by his current job, or he’ll stop by at your place, and if he sees you in a headspace that’s too distracted, bothered or irritated by something, or just down; he’ll pick you up, wrapping your legs around him, pressing to you and nibbling on your neck and literally fuck your frustrations out. Those times he lets you take the ropes into your hands but if you’re not up for even that, he’ll take the charge on the spot, and leave clear marks to keep your mind off things for days. And in return, you’ll leave claw marks on his back, tug at his hair and press him to yourself until all you can feel is him; some days you’ll flip the both of you out of nowhere and press his head against your chest, hold his hands behind his back and guide him with your body, his muffled breathes tingling your chest, the nape of your neck and your lips; until your skins red, lips bleeding and gentle purples decorating all over you.

(and he’s a sucker for it. some days he’ll go in town to get something for you to use on him and drop at your place without a card or a name. If asked, he always denies, claiming he’d not get you things to make it easier to control him but the sight of you holding a whip and he can feel the blood rushing already, tugging at his belt and your tshirt. He hopes it’ll be just like that one time you pressed against his dick with high heels, making him beg to come.)

tags: @myelocin​ @atsumu-brainrot​

[queenbrightwhitly]

Trust You (Pt 4)

A/n: It was getting long so I’m finishing the rest of the episode in another chapter.

You hadn’t spoken to Malcolm the rest of the day. Along with the day after that, but this wasn’t completely your doing. There was a case that needed Malcolm more then anything. An evaluation done by a man who himself was lying, and Malcolm had to trick him.

Both Dani and JT had done their interviews with the suspect, and you had just finished.

Although both Dani and JT felt confident in their performances there was still the chance of a slip up happening.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Gil staring at you from across his desk. He had been going though the case files almost all morning, he knew that this was a fragile case and that everyone being on their A-game was going to be important today, especially Malcolm. 

“Sorry, I guess, I was just-”

“Thinking about Malcolm?” Gil asked, he looked at you already knowing. 

You smiled. “That obvious?”

Gil nodded, putting down the case file he leaned back in his chair. “You know he’s going to be alright. Malcolm knows what he’s doing.”

“Thats what worries me.” You muttered. 

Just then Malcolm swung open the door to Gils office. He looked straight at you, then back to Gil, then back to you. He obviously was confused as to why you were there. He had his tie in his hand and looked at you, he opened his mouth to say something but instantly closed it as if he second guessed himself. He then turned to Gil. “Can you help me with this?” Malcolm asked. 

You rolled your eyes. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Gil. “Nope,” Gil stood up from his desk. “But she can.” Gil nodded in your direction, giving Malcolm a pat on the shoulder he took one last look at you and then walked out. You knew what Gil was doing, but you couldn’t decide if you liked it yet. 

Malcolm had his head down, an annoyed smile gracing his face. He looked back at you. “Um, if you wouldn’t mind, could you- I mean you don’t-”

Getting up from the chair you stood in front of Malcolm, taking a hold of his tie you started to adjust it properly.

“Are you ready?” You broke the silence. 

“Am I ready? I slept a full three and a half hours.” Malcolm smirked, when you didn’t respond he continued. “Okay, three, but it was quality. There was definitely some REM mixed in there.” His tone was playful, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, however this wasn’t calming your nerves. 

“You’re used to being the smartest person in the room. Not today.” Your hand was slightly shaky from nerves. “Dr. Coppenrath is a police psychologist. Internal Affairs trusts him to make sense of minds like yours.” 

You finished Malcolms tie. Just as you were about to pull your hands away he quickly took a hold of them. “Hey. Don’t worry, I got this.” Malcolm looked down at you smiling. 

“Did you think the same thing with this?” You looked down at Malcolm referring to his hand.

Malcolm sighed, “Y/n, darling-”

“Don’t.” You took a step back. “I’m still trying to make sense of our discussion and the stunt you pulled the other day. Malcolm all I ask is to not underestimate him. The rest of us have already given our statements, so I guess its up to you now.” 

Malcolm didn’t say anything else, he knew this wasn’t the time to discuss your conversation, or the risky stunt he pulled. He smiled sweetly and turned to walk away, you couldn’t help your hand but you reached out for his gripping it tightly. 

Malcolm turned back surprised, but before he could say anything, you let go, walking past him out of Gils office.

(cut to Y/n interview)

“Agent, L/n, welcome. Please, take a seat.” Dr. Coppenrath motion to the chair across from him. 

Taking a seat you watched as he wrote a few things down. Looking up at you he smiled. “So, I can only assume you know what this is about.”

You nodded. “It’s to discuss if Malcolm Bright is suitable to work with the department. Im aware.”

“Good, so, shall we start?” Nodding you leaned back in you chair, this was going to be a long day. 

(Back to the storyline.)

“How lucky Malcolm is to be surrounded by this army of nurturing women.” Jessica, smiled sweetly at Dani. “Detective, would you please give my son and I a moment?” Dani nodded, giving Malcolm a quick glance before walking to the other side of the apartment. 

“Mom, did you... make a new friend?” Malcolm looked back to the stranger in his room. 

“LIsa is my little homecoming gift. She can run your baths, administer your meds and prepare your meals until you have sufficiently recovered.” 

“Mom, I don’t need anyone-”

“You know Malcolm, I would almost believe you if I didn’t hear about a certain disagreement you had with my future daughter in law. Honestly, Malcolm what were you thinking?” Jessica took a hold of Malcolms cheek. “You look tired, don’t worry, she will take great care of you while you and Y/n take a break.”

“We are not on a break.” Malcolm cut in. “She just needs... space.” 

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Oh please Malcolm, when a man thinks a women needs space it typically isn’t the case at all and is an excuse to keep you from actually confronting her and talking this out.” Jessica perked up. “Now, lets discuss Llsa.” 

(cut to Y/n interview)

“So, Malcolm was put under watch? By his own mother?” Dr. Coppenrath set his coffee down. Question after question he doubled down mostly on Malcolm himself, but something still felt strange. 

“Jessica loves her son, she just wants whats best for him, just like any mother would.” You watched him scribble in his book, this just felt like therapy at this point. 

“What about you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want whats best for Malcolm?” He asked.

You scoffed. “Of course I do, Malcolm hes... my friend. I want whats best for all my friends. Malcom included.”

He nodded, not saying anything else, just scribbling down.

This was going to be an even longer day...

(cut to storyline)

“The gang’s all back together.” Malcolm voiced from behind you and JT. 

Gil turned around annoyed. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“You just can’t find good help, can you?” Dani cut in. 

I looked at JT who was just looking amused. “Told you.” he whispered to me. I just rolled my eyes. “Should you be back at work?” JT asked. 

“Bright! You’re back! Seven abdominal stitches and a fracture to your first metacarpal, and you still look great.” Edrisa sighed out happily. 

You quietly chuckled so Gil wouldn’t hear. You always loved Edrisa crush and admiration of Malcolm, you would tease him for it all the time. You also couldn’t deny that you might encourage the behavior. Gil however, didn’t look amused. 

Edrisa smile dropped slighty “I might have pulled his medical records. I was worried. But you’re here now.” She smiled again. 

“I am... here. So...let’s go take a peek at this body?” Malcolm sorta asked Gil. He raised his hand in the direction, looking more annoyed by the minute.

Malcolm did a side glance your way as he walked ahead, which didn’t go unnoticed by JT who looked at you in question. Shrugging your shoulders you pretended to not know what he was talking about and walked along. The case was discussed and jokes were made by JT and Malcolms Gucci loafers. Once Malcolm made his brief profile you were going to follow everyone else back to the cars, however you noticed Malcolm wondering off past the crime scene. 

Curious, you started to follow behind him. “Malcolm?” He didn’t answer, just kept on forward. “Malcolm, are you okay? Whats wrong?” He still didn’t pick up on your voice. 

You stopped next to him, trying to figure out what he was looking at. When you didn’t notice anything you looked back to him, his eyes were wide and staring off to space. You knew that look. It happen often, especially when Malcolm just came from seeing his father. 

“Hey.” You took hold of Malcolms shoulder gently. 

He jumped, but only slightly. Looking at you like he just realized you were standing there. “Sorry, I got distracted. We should head back.” Before you could say anything Malcolm had already started to make his way to the cars. 

(cut to Y/n interview)

“Were you aware that Malcolm had started his own investigation?”

You scoffed. “No, I wasn’t. I was told he went home to rest.”

“And you believed that?” Dr. Coppenrath asked.

“No, of course not. I mean he can’t go home, he can’t follow orders, he barley gets enough sleep.” You leaned back in your chair, trying to seem as nonchalant as you could. “I had a feeling he was doing something under Gils nose.”

“Does this happen a lot? Him doing his own investigations without telling anyone.”

“More often then not.”

“I see.” He moved his hand to his coffee mug taking a sip. “Have you ever helped Malcolm?” 

“I mean...Malcolms asked for my help on a few personal matters before but-”

“So you have helped him, without a second thought?”

You rubbed your hands together, the sweat was building up and the nerves kicked in. It didn’t seem like he was questioning Malcolm now. “I mean, Malcolm is my friend-”

“Yes, your friend. Tell me, have you ever thought of Malcolm as more then that?”

You looked confused now. “What does this have to do with Malcolms mental state of working here?”

“I’m just putting some pieces together, maybe Malcolm wouldn’t have such an urge to want to stay here so bad if he didn’t have a reason, perhaps that reason is a who?” He said it as a question, but it didn’t feel like he needed an answer. 

“I don’t think- I’m not the reason Malcolm likes working on cases.” You crossed your arms. The Doctor started writing again, he didn’t say anything after that. 

(cut to storyline)

You got back to the station, hearing from Dani over the phone that Malcolm had decided to enroll himself in the clinic. Not only that but he took a session of theirs, along with almost getting killed while someone named Andi got kiddnapped. 

Walking inside you spotted Dani sitting at her desk, walking up to her you leaned against it and looked around the office. Noticing that Malcolm and Gil were in behind closed doors in his office. 

“How long have they been in there?”

Dani looked up and over to where you were staring. “A few minutes.”

“Gil looks upset.” You stated.

 It wasn’t until Quentin Vosler walked in that you took your eyes off them. Dani noticed him too, so you both walked up to him, JT right on your heels. All of a sudden Malcolm came busting out of Gils office, instantly going towards Vosler. JT was quick to react to hold him back, but he was very insistent.

“Tell me what you did with Andi!” Malcolm yelled, struggling against JT grip.

“Mr. Bright.” Vosler looked surprised. 

“Where is Andi!?!” Malcolm continued. 

“I don’t know. Thats why I’m here. She was taken, by them.”

[path-of-my-childhood]

JT Bates Talks About Drumming For Taylor Swift

By: Jill Riley for The Current Date: July 29th 2020

[Transcript]

How did you end up on a Taylor Swift record? Well, because of Aaron [Dessner]. You know, I've worked with Aaron for the last couple years, in Big Red Machine, Lone Bellow, various other sessions he's been hiring me for. And I've done a few things for him since COVID began; we've been, you know, we're always texting and talking. He's a very inspiringly creative person who just is really constantly making things, and it's pretty incredible. So he, yeah, contacted me at some point and was like, "Hey, I've got this special, fun little project going on here; can you record some drums on a few songs for me?" Because obviously, we're all recording remotely at this point. So yeah, it was very hush-hush, the whole thing, and obviously not really letting out any information as to who this person was or anything like that, and so yeah! You know, you do these things and you send them off, and you don't really know what it's going to end up being or what it's going to be like, and then, sometimes, I guess, apparently, it's a Taylor Swift record.

So was there some kind of code word, like "Operation blah blah"? I mean, did you even know that it was a Taylor Swift song when you started recording? No. I didn't.

So what did you get? You got like a music track? Yeah. You know, I mean, that's how they set it up. I mean, obviously, there's... whatever! There's a lot of reasons that would be set up that way; I don't need to go into that. But anyway, yeah, so he just said, "I can't really tell you who this is." But you know, I know Aaron pretty well; he's become a close musical brother in a lot of ways in the last few years, so I know when he sends me things, I've learned his aesthetic - not that I always know what he's going to do - but just that I can give him some things that he's going to - I know which things I do that he likes, so then you just, you know, like, yeah. I mean, there's a lot of this going on; it's like, someone sends you a song, and normally, we'd be hanging out in a studio talking, and maybe I'd even be listening to the artist sing the song while I'm, you know, maybe not a finished vocal, but like, something's there; you know, when you're at the studio, usually there's something to play to or something like that. So this was a really different experience! But really fun. And then he contacted me very early in the morning on Thursday [July 23] and was like, "Buddy, it's Taylor Swift." And I was like, "I can't believe…" (laughter)  My 15-year-old and my wife were both, you know, aware that I had done this something for Aaron for somebody that's, you know, we're not allowed to know who this person is, whatever, and they were like, "Oh my gosh, what if it's Taylor Swift? That'd be so cool." And they were right.

That's great! I love hearing the insight on that because, you know, I have seen you as a live drummer with a number of bands and artists. But kind of to get that inside view of what it's like to be a session drummer, and it's not unusual for you to get sent something or just called into a studio. Or you get something sent to your studio, and it's like, "Hey, can you play on this?" I mean, that's not a totally unusual thing in your world. No, it's not. And I mean, honestly, during quarantine, you know, for anyone out there wondering how their favorite artists are still putting songs out and still releasing music, that's how it's happening. That's how it's all happening. I mean, I have a handful of friends who I know have gone to a couple studios and done actual physical sessions, but it's really interesting. It's really fun. There's some really fun parts of it for me, because I can sort of be here and I can spend all day, you know, whereas maybe normally that would be wasting someone else's time; I can really kind of get lost and go down a rabbit hole trying different things. Sometimes it just happens instantly, and I can't even believe how quickly I'm sending something back to someone.

And then specifically with Aaron, yeah, it's just like I know that if I've sent him like three or four takes of a song, he's going to grab what he likes and get what he likes, and if he doesn't, then he'll be like, "Hey, can you try this or that?"

Lately, I've been incorporating a lot more FaceTime into it, just personally, because, like, the first couple months of COVID, doing a lot of this was really fun, and then now, I'm really kind of seeking that conversation, because it's just, you know, it's just such a different thing from the live thing and feeling people's energy and feeling the energy of a song and being able to ask a songwriter while you're at the studio, like, "Hey, what's this one about? Where's this coming from?" and all that.

And then also, just the musical, the technical information, too. So yeah, it's really fun, but I've been able to do a bunch of work for a bunch of different, fun people during this, and like I said, it was just sort of, I still kind of can't believe it. (laughter)

We're talking about Taylor Swift's new record, "Folklore"; I'm talking with Twin Cities drummer JT Bates about playing on a couple of the tracks, so "epiphany," "seven" and "the last great american dynasty" are the songs that you play on. So when Aaron Dessner sent you those tracks, what kind of direction did he give you? He probably knows you well enough where he's like, "Hey, can you come up with a couple different things on this?" Yeah. It was a little different. I mean, I don't know how familiar you are with the Big Red Machine stuff, but on that record and a lot of that music that I play on, he's got so much drum programming going, that a lot of times, from me, he's looking for the opposite of that; sort of like the more live activity, "action" sometimes they call it, or smearing things, where I'm not maybe trying to play exactly - you know, because there's a machine playing the beat, so maybe I can be more of a color, more of a texture, things like that. But he did say, kind of out of the gate on this one, "This is going to be more of a poppy sort of thing, so not really looking for the Big Red stuff." And so, like, on "the last great american dynasty," he was like, he just really wanted me to kind of get in; there's a beat that he programmed, and I'm basically just doubling that, just to have, it kind of fills it out in a different way when there's live drums.

[On] "seven," that one he definitely was like, "You'll know what to do on this one." It was kind of a straightforward thing. But then, you know, texturally on that one, we did a little back and forth of trying out different dynamics of the drums, you know, because - and again, that's stuff that, if we were all in a room, would be like a five-second decision, but this was like, I do something, I email it to him; he texts me back. You know, it's like, whatever.

And then, "epiphany," he was like, "Yeah, I'd just like a little bit more of an orchestral sort of thing," so I did a couple different things and then they ended up just using actually just one part of it, but used it throughout.

And that's an interesting part about working with a lot of modern producers, is it's so easy to grab just a certain part that they like or something that grabs their ear, and then, so you might do a lot of work, and then they might just use one little part.

Just like a little… (laughter) But that's fine, too. And that's something that I've learned: How to be really comfortable with [that]. And it's a really great, unattached feeling, you know, to just be like, "Well, here's a bunch of stuff; you're going to use what you're going to use anyway, so if you want something more specific, you'll tell me." That's the great part about Aaron; that's like how he included so many of his good friends and collaborators and our other good buddies on this recording, and friends and family of his and stuff. You know, it's like he knows, he sees people's strengths that way and understands how they could be an asset to a certain song or to a certain vibe or a texture or something like that.

You mentioned friends and family, and I'm really impressed by Aaron Dessner's ability to keep a secret from you, because when it comes to my close friends, I just feel like if I was pushed even just a little bit, like, "Come on, Jill; what is this?" I'd be like, "OK, here's what it is, but don't tell anyone!" But that's pretty impressive. There's, you know, yeah. You want to get called back for more of these things. So there's partly that, there's also just, you could tell he felt funny, when he did call me, I mean, he was like, "Oh, man, I can't even…" Obviously, there's contractual stuff for him, so it's like, he's not going to, you know, anyhow. So and then, of course, I was really curious, but I know Aaron pretty well, and he's a kind of to-himself sort of fella, and so he's not someone I would bug like that anyhow. But yeah. I mean, I was definitely curious, but I'm also good at, I've learned over time, just waiting for surprises or whatever…

All will be revealed. (laughter) It's like, "He just worked with Michael Stipe. Let's see… who could it be next?" That was another crazy one! I played on that song too for him, and it was like, "OK, man, I guess we're playing with Michael Stipe. Great!" You know?

[...]

If your daughter gets to return to school this fall, she's going to have a reason to brag about her dad. Of everything that you've ever done, now she's going to have a reason to brag about her dad. The one cool thing I did, yep! (laughter)

That's really how it goes! Yep!

[prettyoddfever]

Panic! at the Disco’s old book club:

Someone asked me about the book club before and I was like ha no I do not remember many specific titles… BUT it turns out that procrastination is a very wonderful life skill and I just found a file in my old hard drive with a ton of super random book club notes I made in case I wanted to catch up on everything “later” (because that always works out so well). disclaimer first: I didn’t actually participate in the book club because discussing academic stuff outside of school was not super appealing... I also made other excuses like the titles were depressing or everyone seemed so close that it felt weird to just jump in (they had a lot of inside jokes about lampshades and Spencer being an octopus and stuff? idk). so basically I was lazy and got a lot of my updates from Stephanie & Kim, who often tried to recruit people & spread the word. all I did was lurk on the book club, so I’m probably the worst person to try to explain anything… but here’s everything I saved and/or recalled after reading my notes:

so I remember some kids talking about a book club at the very start of January 2006, but the first legit info I saved was from Ryan’s different posts in mid-January:

We've been wanting to do something with our fans for a while now that would allow us to get to talk to you more, and in a way that isn't us just answering questions about the band. I'm curious to see how you all think and what you feel and what you like, don't like, would like, and so forth. So we came up with the idea of having sort of a "book club" in hopes that we can all get to know each other a little better, and at the same time read some literature that is new to us. I chose the first book, 'The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things' because it's been recommended to me countless times by countless people, and thought it would be a good one to start this off with. So the point here is to discuss what you thought of the first chapter, 'Disappearances' whether it's something in the story, Leroy's writing style, if it's theme related, whatever it is. I'm going to go ahead and let you all start, and I'll respond. - Ryan

We know all of you have been waiting on the edge of your seat for us to announce what book we're going to do first, and lucky for you, the moment has arrived. You should go pick up "The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things" by JT LeRoy. I just started reading it the other day, it's definitely cool so far, but pretty intense. In a week or so, I'll post something about the first chapter, and we'll continue to discuss a new chapter each week, or something like that. If you have any suggestions for future books, leave them in the comments. - Ryan 

(hi, update from me: I just found some other notes that made it clear that the second post above was actually done in late December... I just didn’t see/save it until January).

I feel like it’s a common story these days that Ryan was leading this book club through the years or contributing to all sorts of discussions and that just did not happen. Yes, Ryan started the club and picked the first book. There was even this article in Blender where Brendon says they got the idea after “fans said they were turned on to Chuck Palahniuk from references in our songs.” But then the band got too busy and things kind of died down for a while by early spring. And I do not remember the other guys being directly involved with the club in any way (and Pete had absolutely nothing to do with it beyond being one of the people who recommended the first book to Ryan).

UPDATE/CLARIFICATION: For the record – Ryan might have participated for the first book. I can’t say that he didn’t for sure. (My school semester was ending in January, so analyzing the book club wasn’t my main focus. Plus, the band was doing SO much else in early 2006 that it was probably the least exciting thing to go back to examine. Also, I don’t feel like the little that I'm remembering about the book club at that time is reliable or hasn’t been influenced by other people. Maybe I just want to remember Ryan participating? I didn’t like a girl who complained that Ryan had never even participated, so maybe that factors in. My point is that I’m not certain about the first book, but that is absolutely the only book he could have possibly participated for).

By March fans were pretty much just discussing books in general. Ryan never picked a second book or checked back in, so fans started doing their own thing. There was a big lull with the book club for a while. I stopped paying much attention here so I’m not clear on how the fans picked the second book (I just know they did & it wasn’t Ryan). The fan who took over at first was named Sylvia... I remember that I respected her because she had direct access to Ryan and didn’t abuse it, brag, or even acknowledge overly-excited fans who wanted more info on him. Lauren also ran the book club and was the only one profiled in AP magazine because I think Sylvia had stepped back more at that point. But the fans were technically running the club in Ryan’s place so it was still considered the official Panic! at the Disco book club. This is the only book club they ever linked to from their site or mentioned on any band-related blog.

so just to be clear: Ryan Ross had nothing to do with the book club after the first book.

By fall 2006 the club had their act together and was picking their next books by voting between choices. The book club was spread across myspace, several sites (the early 2006 forums sucked), and an AIM chat. By late 2006 the club was primarily on the new/better boards. I know some of the titles to vote on were eventually nominated by people in other bands. They also talked about a ton of other books besides the assigned one... the genres were all over the map too (it was kind of cool to see the same fans having rational discussions about Twilight and Dickens).

Other random things: they branched into a creative writing club later that fall… I remember thinking their “missions” were some kind of religious thing at first lol but I guess they were just prompts. a couple members won signed & personalized copies of Chuck Palahniuk books. the club also made a present for Ryan once (around the same time everyone was mailing the guys stuff and there were way too many projects to join) but he didn’t get it & I thought that was sad. pretty sure they also did another separate present for the whole band with like writing & art & that kind of stuff but I’m not sure what came of that. ummm I think they also annotated books to mail to soldiers (but I’m not 100% sure so don’t take that as fact) and then did like a book exchange and penpal thing with each other? and then sometimes they interviewed authors of the books they read (like heychris haha).

my favorite thing that sort of came out of the book club was when Stephanie knit the band scarves in fall 2006! the guys ended up picking the one they wanted and Bden wore his a lot during the NRWC season... and oh wow I managed to sidetrack even this topic to how adorable he was in 2006.

ANYWAYS the books were broken down into sections that seemed like they were discussed for about a week. and then halfway into the book there would be a discussion opened where you could just talk about the whole thing in case you were done. I’m remembering now how I almost joined when they picked the 7th Harry Potter book... but I went to a midnight book party and was done & crying by noon and absolutely could not patiently discuss it piece by piece because FRED. I bet most members were in the same boat, so idk how they managed.

here’s a rough idea of when I think each book happened:

January 2006: The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things by JT Leroy (picked by Ryan)

Spring 2006: A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby

September 2006: A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

November 2006: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

December 2006: Stranger Than Fiction by Chuck Palahniuk

February 2007: On The Road by Jack Kerouac*

March 2007: the choices were between Life of Pi, Flowers for Algernon, Catcher in the Rye, and Post Office (suggested by Andrew from Jack’s Mannequin… and I put that a book was suggested by All Time Low but I’m not sure which title that note was referring to, sorry). the book club picked post office by charles bukowski

May 2007: in april they had voted between the rules of attraction, ordinary men, angels and demons, and rosemary’s baby… I think some of those titles were suggested by other bands but I only put that Scott from The City Drive suggested the winner: the rules of attraction by bret easton ellis

June 2007: A Life Deliberate by Christopher Gutierrez / heychris

August 2007: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

September 2007: The Cool Kids by Ramsey Dean (summary of my notes: this was a self-published book you could read for free online and the author joined in on the discussions. Shane Drake was supposed to be directing the movie and there were t-shirts for sale and everything but idk if anything ever came of that. I heard this book wasn’t that great).

October 2007: Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn

December 2007: House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

March 2008: Candy: A Novel of Love and Addiction by Luke Davies

there was a bit of a gap here… things seemed to be dying down a bit. I know they discussed "I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone" by Stephanie Kuehnert at the start of August. this seems to be the title most easily remembered because it was towards the end & was discussed for so long.

I’m fairly sure they picked Stardust by Neil Gaiman before the band split but that’s where my lurking ends... I think the club might have continued for a bit after the split, though. idk

* I put an asterisk next to On the Road by Jack Kerouac because this one was technically suggested by Ryan after the mods reached out to him to ask for a recommendation! I had totally forgotten it was a book club title since I’d already read it at the time (and then went back to reread it in 2008 on my own to understand Northern Downpour). Anyways, Ryan suggested it to the mods... and here's one quote from On the Road:

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles...”

So yes, Ryan did kind of end up suggesting another title, but he did not comment on any posts or join the book club again. I have no idea where the story started that Ryan was contributing to discussions in this book club or picking the books or in direct contact with fans in any way. I’m sorry, but that is a completely fictional (albeit super cute) alternate reality. He was so busy with the band... I cannot emphasize that enough. He did start everything! And then fans appreciated it enough to keep the official book club going after that.

Trust me, if Ryan Ross had been personally discussing something with fans I would’ve been signed up in a flash instead of periodically lurking. The book club also wouldn’t have needed to spread the word everywhere to try to get more than a handful of kids involved in discussions. The club was a really wonderful thing for Ryan to start, though, and that intent says a lot about him! It also led to what looked like a really tight-knit small community.

Anyways, I’m glad I found this file and it was fun to remember so many random associations again... so the moral of this story is that your older self will thank you for putting things off until later lol.

UPDATE:

I know this all conflicts with what some other people have said (to the point where I feel like I’m in an alternate reality & am legit questioning my sanity) so I’m definitely not saying anyone else is wrong! (update: now I am). I’m just sharing what I know in case this can add to the discussion. I saved this post as a draft today and then reached out to the girl who ran the book club for Ryan because I never feel like I’m a particularly credible source... so I asked the book club mod if I could quote what she remembered. Forgive my tearing skills, but here’s a scan of the old AP magazine interview with Lauren:

Lauren was the awesome mod who ran Panic! at the Disco’s official book club over the years. she also ran this book blog of her own that she’s still doing! so I emailed Lauren and here’s what she had to say:

“Ryan didn't have much to do with the book club beyond creating it. Ryan started the official one on their actual message boards, and I've never heard or seen any other book clubs associated with him or the band. He's the only band member that was ever part of the book club though. I don't remember him really being involved too much in the discussions. Ryan chose the first book and then we kind of just kept it going because there wasn't a second choice and people loved the idea of the book club… honestly, if Ryan was involved in the first book - asking questions/replying - I don't remember. He could have, but he wasn't involved in that way past the first book though.”

so that sounds pretty similar to what I said above. hopefully this helps! anything else I post about the book club will be in this tag.

update: Sylvia was the mod for part of 2006 before Lauren took over, and here’s what she recently said.

THE MAIN POST

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter eleven

I was initially going to hold back on this update until Sunday but y’all already know my impulse control is nonexistent and with the encouragement of new friends (hey naomi and elena!!) I had to go ahead and post. Tried something a little new with this chapter and it focuses a lot on Malcolm and I learned I actually like writing in his POV a lot so that’s new. It also features more Edrisa bc I love her and she’s my best friend’s absolute fav so I had to do them some service after the help with the last chapter which got some of my most insanely complimentary comments. Like one of y’all really commented how I wrote Martin well and I didn’t stop smiling the entire day. That’s fucking insane. Hope y’all enjoy the update and are staying safe!

Gil steps out of the room, exhaustion settling into him. Immediately Ainsley sits up leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

“How is she? Is she ok?” The drive back from Claremont had been the worst. Jessica had jumped with every siren sounding and in New York? It was a lot. Ainsley held her hand the entire time while Malcolm rocked, his brain firing off at a million miles a minute. Nobody said a word but it was Jessica’s silence that was the most concerning to them. 

What the hell happened in that cell?

“She remembered what happened, didn’t she?” Malcolm casts a glance at Ainsley who doesn’t meet his gaze. Gil can only shrug.

“She still hasn’t said anything but something in there definitely got to her. I called Dani and JT. They agreed to be the new details until we can sort out why she got so uncomfortable when we passed the guards on our way out and the drive home.”

“We should go get mom’s things.” Ainsley says. “She only packed clothes. She left all of her products and things she’ll probably need. Who knows how long this stay will last, we should at least make her comfortable.” But she shifts her eyes to the door where Jessica was sleeping, or at least pretending to. She feels guilty for leaving her twice, it’s written all over her face.

“I’ll go.” Malcolm offers. “I feel like we missed something that night. It’ll give me a chance to look again.”

“Hell no.” Gil protests immediately. “I’m not comfortable with you going alone.”

“I’ll bring a detail.” His retort is interrupted by the sound of movement from the other room, like someone shifting around in the bed. Jessica is listening and for whatever reason, she doesn’t like that.

“We can go tomorrow. Right now I want all of us under the same roof.” Malcolm tips his head back, annoyed then rises again with an idea.

“What if I bring Edrisa? She’ll be able to help me look around and we’ll be back before you know it.” No more sounds of ruffling interrupt so Gil has to give in.

“Fine, but I want updates. And if you get even a whiff that something is wrong you two get the hell out.”

“Deal.” Gil sighs as Malcolm rushes off to text Edrisa.

The Whitly’s are going to be the death of him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“This is so exciting.” Edrisa practically bounces with every step up the driveway. “I’ve never actually got to be a part of the actual investigation.” She pauses, a thought interrupting her excitement. “Should I have brought something to defend myself?”

Malcolm smiles, her enthusiasm is refreshing after his day. Honestly, part of him just wanted to talk to her to get some of the weight of the world off his shoulders. For a brief moment this case isn’t a killer threatening his family. It’s just him and Edrisa. “Edrisa, we’re just getting clothes.”

“Are you sure cause I have pepper spray in my car.”

“Yes I’m sure.” He holds the door open for her gesturing to enter. “And besides, you’ve got me.” She beams at that, her pep coming back in full force as she bounds to the kitchen. He follows with a shake of his head.

“Ok, so what are we looking for?”

“Well, my mother drinks tea like most people drink water.” He points to the cabinet where they usually keep it. “It’s her comfort but Gil doesn’t keep tea in the house.” If Edrisa is curious why, she doesn’t show it. His tone is enough and he’s absolutely certain she read the casefile from that night.

Tea was how the surgeon sedated his victims, Gil was almost one of them.

When Edrisa opens the cabinet her eyes widen. The shelves are stacked with bags of tea, neatly sealed with tight creases. “That’s a lot.” She chuckles.

“It’s everyone’s favorites. Chai for Ainsley, the black is mine. She has every worker’s favorites, I think she even managed to get JT’s but don’t tell him that.”

“My lips are sealed. Matcha is my favorite, by the way.” She winks.

“Oh, she knows.” He grins at the wide, starry eyed look she gets. She blushes and clears her throat before turning back to the task. “Mother’s is the earl grey supreme.”

“What’s the difference between that and the earl grey?”

“Honestly?” Malcolm shrugs. “Price, probably.” Often she falls into the trap of the more expensive the better, it makes for an interesting Christmas and a pain in the ass to get gifts for her when she just buys anything she could possibly want on a whim.

Edrisa stops for a second, her posture straightening, and then getting on her tiptoes to see better. Even from behind he can tell she’s got something on her mind. It’s confirmed when she reaches inside pulling out a smaller, black bag. His head tilts because his mother never bought small bags. Even for people that rarely passed through she wanted to make sure they were prepared. Then the label catches his eye, it’s a completely different brand then what she normally buys from. A brand he hasn’t seen in years.

The brand his father likes.

“Where did you find that?” He asks, on edge and looking out the door. The house is silent other than the two of them but that doesn’t mean that can’t change at any second.

“It was on the bottom shelf and it’s open. All the rest are sealed. Why?”

Just like that it all pieces together. 

His mother had asked him that night if he made tea. He’d told her no and that made her seem more agitated. At first he thought it was because the killer had made her tea, had been in her room. No, it was much more than that. With Freddy’s connection to Claremont, the ability for the killer to find her bedroom and the kitchen so quickly, and the tea that his father used to make.

“The surgeon. He knows who the killer is.” The rush of emotion the punches him in the chest makes him stumble back against the counter. Edrisa runs to him, one hand on his elbow to steady him. Her presence isn’t enough to tamper the anger thudding in his chest with every heartbeat. He knew. He knew when she was missing. He knows now that her life is being threatened.

He was the one who got her to remember.

“That’s why she’d gone to him. She recognized the tea and didn’t say a word about it. Why didn’t she tell us?” Anger clashes with sadness burning at his retinas. He shuts his eyes tightly pressing the heels of his palm to them trying to get himself back under control.

“Malcolm.” His own name sounds unfamiliar in Edrisa’s voice. She’d always called him Bright. Never Malcolm. “Let’s get her stuff and go. They’ll get worried soon.” Her calmness has him taking a deep breath and nodding. “Good.” She extends her hand to him, it’s an almost childish offer in its innocence. Her hand is something to ground him to the world. It gives him something different to focus on rather than his feelings.

Wordlessly, he takes her hand.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Malcolm and Edrisa arrive the house is more crowded than before. JT is by the doorway with Ainsley and Dani sharing the couch. Gil has made coffee for everyone, certain that it will be a long night all around. They all look relieved to see them but Gil reads it on his face before anyone else.

“You found something.”

“Hooooo, did I find something.” Edrisa lingers next to him, unsure if she should stay or go. She decides on the former when Ainsley scoots on the couch leaving room for her to sit on the end closest to where Malcolm still stood. “Is she awake?”

“Bright, is this a good idea?” Dani asks sitting up a little straighter. He notes that she’s in much more casual clothes, probably looking to rest before trading shifts with JT.

“Nope. But I think she knows who the killer is. And if I’m right?”

“Go. We’ll be right out here.” Ainsley nods, making the final decision.

He shifts the bag over his shoulder opening the door to the bedroom slowly. In the dim light streaming between the curtains he sees his mother sitting on the side of the bed, she’s got something in her hands but it’s too dark to make out.

“Mom?” Her head turns to him, her expression isn’t the blank unreadable one from earlier. No, she looks relieved that he’s back. The news twists uneasily in his stomach as he shuts the door behind him. “Can I ask you a couple of questions?” He doesn’t really expect her to answer. But when her breathing doesn’t pick up or really make any uncomfortable movements he takes it as permission.

He grabs a chair sliding it so that he can sit across from her. Closer he can see how tired she is. Her breakdown likely didn’t help but she definitely didn’t fall asleep at any point in time since she got back.

“Stop me if you need to, ok?” She blinks at him so he continues. “Why did you go see him?” He treads lightly, testing the waters first. An annoyed expression passes over her face but she doesn’t shift or startle. He digs in the duffel he brought along pulling out the bag of tea. “Is this why?”

When her eyes land on the bag she takes a shuddering breath, it’s confirmation enough. 

“This was the tea he used to make.” She blinks back the tears, correct again. “This is why you visited him. The killer made you the same tea, you knew he had something to do with all of this.” Her lower lip wobbles but she holds herself tightly wound. “He knew who did this.” The first tear that slides down her cheek makes him feel like the worst. “Do you want me to stop?” She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. Her hand unfolds and in it is a crumpled note. He takes it, slowly as not to startle her into shutting back down.

Just like you like.

“Did the killer write this?” A nod. Malcolm takes a breath trying not to be frustrated that she kept this from them. Had they known they would have questioned his father so much sooner. The information she knew, it’d be common knowledge. “Thank you.” He says instead, taking her hand and enclosing it in both of his. She’d held his shaking hand like this countless amounts of times, her fingers stroking the back of his hand in the same way he mimics now. “I need you to tell me what he told you.” She starts, but doesn’t pull away. “Please.”

Her voice is deep, more tonal than he’s ever heard come from her. He almost thinks he imagines it. It’s too low to understand what she says.

“What?”

“He’s a cop.” Her eyes meet his, glassy from unshed tears. He smiles at her sadly, too caught up in the fact that his mom is back before the gravity of her words hits him full force.

Oh.

Shit.

[jade-marie]

GG 2x04 Rewatch

Not gonna lie, this is probably going to be the only episode I rewatch. The rest has been kinda tainted by 2x13 and s3.

Generally, my opinions tend not to line up with the majority of the fandom - sorry, not sorry. 

1. What was your favourite scene of the episode? Tell us why!

It’s a tie between the bathroom break and the vette smash. Bathroom break - for obvious reasons - I’m a hoe and I live for that shit. The vette smash - I just vibe with Rio’s petty energy and the way you could see how much he was enjoying himself, Dean being metaphorically castrated by the guy who just fucked his wife... chef’s kiss. 

2. Was there any scene that missed the mark for you? And if so, how?

I WISH beth would’ve bit back when Dean brought up the shooting. It irks me so much that she contnually rolls over for him. She spitefully gets payback, but rarely puts him in his place (if it were up to me, his place would be by boomer-jeff’s side in the dumpster)

3. This episode starts with each of the girls trying to make amends in their own way – Beth through her family, Ruby through charity and Annie through Marion. What do you think this tells us about each of them?

I feel like Beth and Ruby’s attempts at making amends always feel incredibly shallow and I can never tell if it’s down to shitty writing or if its because they genuinely don’t feel guilty. If’it’s the former - I’m not surprised. If it’s the latter - I hope the girls own their lack of remorse, in future. 

Annie strikes me as the one who feels genuine guilt over a lot of this, and it’s been pretty consistent - even when Lucy died in S3. I think it makes sense for her to be the most cut up about it because she always struck me as someone who’s ruled by her emotions - she doesn’t exactly think before she acts, and is typically pretty impulsive.

4. Rio offers Beth the keys to the kingdom! This scene is always hotly debated in the fandom! What do you think he meant in the moment of it? Do you think he ever actually saw or even wanted Beth as a partner?

Straying from the general consensus, as usual - I don’t think he was playing her and I don’t think he planned to take a cut of whatever Beth came up with. 

Personally, I don’t think it makes much sense. He’s already learnt that he gets further with Beth through praise and reward, as opposed to intimidation - more flies with honey, yada yada yada. 

If the whole thing was just a manipulation it would have made more sense for him to convince her that he had faith in her and offer her a 25% cut of any cash washing operation she could come up with. She would’ve bit his hand off at the opportunity.  

I think he was telling the truth when he said that he was done, I think he was genuinely flipping his game from cash to pills. At this point, Turner was looking closely and so it would make sense for Rio to want to distance himself from the counterfeit operation. He literally explained back in season one that it’s how he avoids being caught, he flips his game before the feds get too close. 

I get the feeling that he probably didn’t intend to have much contact with Beth going forward and was going to leave her to do whatever she wanted with the rest of the money. It’s not that I think he wouldn’t manipulate her, he absolutely would. I just don’t really think it makes sense in this context. 

5. Do you think Marion had any idea that Boomer was taking advantage of her?

I think it was probably similar to the situation with Beth, regarding Dean’s cheating: the thought was there, but she never really confronted the idea and lived in a comfy little denial bubble.

6. Dean’s attachment to the corvette is played in many different ways in s2! How do you interpret this?

I think it’s the perfect display of his narcissism and toxic masculinity. The car is as grandiose as his ego and he thinks it’s going to save the dealership, much like he thinks he’s going to be the one to save his family from ruin.

7. Why do you think Beth kept the money from Ruby and Annie?

I think she’s hugely manipulative and likes to be the be the one holding the cards. She only wanted to rob the store when she had her own problems to worry about and then convinced the girls to go along with it, she went to Rio to ask for more work back in season 1, she asked him to up their drops, the list goes on.

She tends to call the shots and drag them along for the ride, so it seems consistent with her personality that she’d keep the money to herself until she needed it, and then inform the girls. 

8. The birth of the cars for cash business! Is this Beth’s best idea? Her worst? How do you rank it, both in general and among the girls’ other schemes? And do you think it could’ve worked longterm if Turner wasn’t so fixated on Beth?

Probably the best idea she came up with tbh. The others were pretty poorly thought through, as far as long term strategising goes. It could’ve worked really well if they had an accountant keeping the books looking kosher. 

9. The Beth and Dean arc this episode is perhaps one of their most frustrating (in spite of the extremely cathartic resolution, haha). Do you think Dean’s belittling of Beth and his feelings of Beth emasculating him are new to their relationship or have been around for a long time? How do you think they really see each other?

I think they lived in a state of blissful ignorance and their initial interaction (love you, tunafish) was really indicative of that. Him belittling her was probably prevalent in the beginning of the relationship, but I think she probably just placated him and got on with her life. Now she’s clearly growing tired of his shit, just not. fast. enough.

I don’t think they’re in love though. I think Dean’s feelings for her are fuelled by narcissim. She’s obviously good looking and from the outside, he has it all. The house in the burbs, kids, hot wife, family business etc. That’s what he cares about - the image. I don’t think Beth is too dissimilar. I think she probably looked up to Judith as a teenager and idiolised that life, which Dean could provide. I don’t think she ever had deep, romantic, feelings for him. But she probaly does care for him, to an extent.

10. The Annie and Beth arc is also pretty telling of the characters’ history. It’s also one of the few times we’ve deliberately seen Beth seek out Annie for comfort (often it’s incidental that Annie’s there). What do you think this tells us about their relationship, both historically, and where they are at this point in the series?

I think it’s one of the few moments that their sibling bond is believable. It’s pretty accurate that, as Annie is maturing, she becomes less of a fuckup baby sister who needs everyone to clean up after her and grows into someone that beth can turn to for comfort/advice. Makes sense that this happens later in life, considering the significant age gap.

11. Ruby’s scene at the Quick Cash with JT is really significant – both in terms of it being a generally delightful scene, but also as a touchstone demonstration of Ruby’s increasing unwillingness to swallow her pride. Do you think Ruby prior to the series commencing would’ve reacted to JT’s goading in this way? And how do you think this scene compliments the scene earlier in the episode with Stan admitting he’s taken another loan too?

I thinks she would’ve wanted to, but literally couldn’t afford to. She had the means and opportunity to give him a dose of karma. But it’s always been in her nature to talk shit - diner dickweed in season 1. She refused to swallow her pride and apologise.

That, along with Stan taking another loan, seems to fit in well with the Hill’s entire arc of trying to be good people and being consistently shit on for it.

12. THE. BATHROOM. BREAK. That’s it. That’s the question. Please elaborate on your thoughts and feelings.

Am i supposed to be able to form thoughts or sentences that adequately express my feelings?

Petty king is also king of consent, he let beth take the lead - love it.

Judging from the papertowel dispenser, stroke game was strong.

Penis levitation is now a part of my vocab, thank you for your service, Rio.

10/10 - would definitely recommend being railed in a bathroom by this man.

13. Greg and Annie have what’s their last break-up in this episode (at least up until now). Why do you think this particular one stuck? And do you see any sort of future for them?  

I feel like the key difference was Annie putting her foot down and saying “no”. Idk if I can see them getting back together, becasue I don’t think she’d have another affair when there’s a child in the mix and he’s too much of a pussy to divorce Nancy unless he has a guaranteed backup plan aka Annie. Still kinda ship it though.

14. Annnnd lastly, what do you make of the final scene at Boland Motors? What do you think Rio thought following both the bathroom break and this moment?

I think that Rio was genuinely flipping his game and moving away from cash and, in turn, Beth. But the bathroom break changed his mind, so he got curious and wanted to know what she came up with for the money, only to find out that she gave it to Dean. Given how possessive Rio is of his money, in combination with the feelings for Beth which had just been stirred up, I think his jealous side came out and he took back the money. 

Up until this point, the entire Brio dynamic was him holding the power and exerting it whenever he saw fit. The second he followed her into that bathroom, he gave up whatever semblance of control or power he had left. The man is a very obvious control freak and so I don’t think he does well or feels secure in those situations. Him smashing up the car was basically an attempt to re-establish dominance and convince himself (and Beth) that he was still in control; with the added bonus of emasculating dean and making money.

And daaaayyyyyyyuuuuuuummmmm if I don’t enjoy watching that scene. The emasculation of Dean, Rio being petty, Beth malfunctioning at the possibility of Dean finding out she got dicked down in the bathroom, while he sat outside trying (and failing) to get the waiter’s attention. I DIE

[falcongumba]

Lesley Mok

Photo by Luke Marantz 

Lesley Mok is an immensely creative drummer, percussionist and composer who works in a wide variety of collaborative ensembles as well as writing music for her own projects. She is also part of Polyfold Musical Arts Collective, a really wonderful group of musicians who have been curating a concert series for musicians to present new works of music as well as running a small record label that already has a sizable catalog.

I’ve only known Lesley for a couple of years, but we have played together a few times in informal sessions and I always admired her original drumming and her strong voice as a composer.

In this discussion we talked about her entire trajectory as a musician as well as some of her upcoming projects and plans.

JT: You’ve told me before that you are originally from the Bay Area but I’m a bit curious about your family’s background. Where are your parents from? What did they do?

LM: Neither of my parents are creative professionals, though I'd consider both of them creative people. I'm a first-generation American, and like many immigrants at the time, both of them had an intense desire to climb the social ladder and make it for themselves in the United States. I think uprooting one's life and moving to an unfamiliar place takes a different kind of creativity--figuring out which bus to take, what to eat, how to communicate...they're cultural challenges that require creative thinking.

JT: And, were they the first ones to steer you into getting music lessons? Or was that something that you wanted on your own?

LM: My mom forced me to take piano lessons, but drum lessons were something I asked for.

JT: Before we get onto the drums. I read on your bio that you also played the flute, correct?

LM: Yes! In my elementary and middle school concert bands.

JT: I imagine studying flute and piano was likely helpful, no? You write a lot of music now.

LM: Definitely - it gave me a  good sense of tonal harmony, or at least what it sounded like and how it might move. It wasn't until recently that I started writing music,  but taking lessons at a young age gave me a lot to work from. It's like learning a language at a young age..you can't really forget it.

JT: That’s amazing! So how did you arrive at the drums originally?

LM: I don't really remember, to be honest, but I took lessons for a few years before joining the middle school jazz band. I would invite friends over to work on songs we learned in school. I was terrified of soloing and I remember wanting to work on trading 4’s so I wouldn’t embarrass myself during rehearsal.

JT: And was it already pretty geared toward a jazz thing? Or were you playing other kinds of music?

LM: I was drawn to jazz from the beginning - it always felt like the music I wanted to play. I wanted to be in a backing band for a singer - my favorite records were with Ella, Billie Holiday, and Nancy Wilson.

JT: What kind of form did that listening take?

LM: One of the first drummers I met, Scott Lowrie, introduced me to a bunch of records like Sonny Rollins Quartet, Sarah Vaughan with Basie, Miles Davis’ First Quintet...He would point out certain things that captured him, like how swinging Philly Joe’s ride cymbal was, or the vibrato in Sarah’s voice, or how relaxed Paul Chamber’s beat was. He would sing along to the drum solos and try to figure out what sticking Philly Joe would more likely play. He introduced to me a listening culture that made me more interested in the music.

JT: What was the transition to Berklee like?

LM: I had started to meet a bunch of other high school musicians in my junior year of high school through programs like the Stanford Jazz Workshop. Everyone could really play, and it inspired me to know that people my age were already so committed to music. I remember Cory Cox and Caili O’Doherty were mentors at the program at the time, and just hearing them play encouraged me to apply to music school.

JT: That’s cool because that's kind of a common thread for a lot of people that I know from the Bay Area. There were all these music camps, and a lot of people went and even if a lot of them didn't end up playing music professionally, they still would end up playing an instrument pretty well and having a really strong appreciation for music.

LM: Yeah, I studied with Akira Tana at the time and I remember he even recommended that I not go to music school; he was like “you should check out these other things”.

I think a lot of my hesitation about going to music school didn't have to do with music itself but how to make a living in music. At that time, coming from a more traditionally minded family, music wasn’t a legitimate practice or career. It wasn’t until college when I built up more confidence and commitment to music.

JT: I remember you telling me that you had a pretty good experience at Berklee.

LM: The first two years at Berklee were a little unstructured and I was sort of confused about how to move forward. I felt lucky to play in a few ensembles that I really enjoyed, including Jason Palmer’s ensemble (my first foray into odd meters and original music) and Ralph Peterson’s Art Blakey ensemble, but I didn’t have high enough ratings to get into some other ensembles. (Those of you who are familiar with Berklee’s rating system can maybe empathize!). I felt a bit discouraged with navigating what felt like a bureaucratic system.

In my third year, I applied to this program called the Berklee Global Jazz Institute, led by Danilo Perez and Marco Pignataro. I didn't get in my first time around, but then I think it was in my sixth semester or something I auditioned again and got in. That program was really significant for me.

Global gave me some clarity in my practice and I was able to prioritize my learning. It was also during this time when I started to think about bigger questions, not just how to play the drums and music, but you know...how to play music in a culturally and socially informed way.

JT: And what were some of the breakthroughs? Was there a teacher that was particularly empowering? Or was it just the benefit of being in the program?

LM: The program itself was very empowering, but Danilo, Terri Lynne Carrington and Ben Street were the three teachers that really influenced me. Bob Gullotti was also enormously influential as a teacher. We would work on playing Bird heads around the drums. He was so thorough with the way he thought about dynamics, articulation, and tambor, and if he didn’t feel like you played the essence of the melody, he would ask you to work on the same thing for the following week. I hadn’t thought much about drumming outside of a rhythmic and linguistic context up until that point so those lessons were super transformative. Bob would play every Monday night at the Fringe--I remember hearing him take a solo on sticks on a ballad at like 40bpm, and being like, “Holy shit, I want to be able to do that.” Bob passed away just last year--he was a completely dedicated teacher and I will always treasure our time together.

JT: When did you move to NY?

LM: I moved in September of 2017.

JT: Okay. And did you move because you felt that New York was a center for this music? Or was there another reason?

LM: There was never much doubt in my mind about moving to New York after school. I travelled between Boston and New York pretty often while I was in school to take lessons or see shows, so after I finished my final year at Berklee I moved here.

JT: There's usually all these logistical and life challenges moving here the first year. How did that affect you? Were you able to get to music right away? Or was there an adjustment period?

LM: It was a tremendous life change. I applied for a bunch of jobs the first week I moved here, and ended up working at a small entertainment law firm for about four months..that's how long I lasted! (Haha) It was super gruesome and I was pretty miserable. I was in the office for nine hours a day, and would head to my studio every day at 6pm and practice until 10pm or so. I would plan sessions on weekends or weeknights after work. Oddly enough, I think I practiced the most when I had that job just because I knew I had to structure my time really well.

It was an emotionally tough time, but it really made me question what was important to me. I think I was scared of what it meant to be a working musician but after working at the law firm, I knew it wasn't something I could do--my body and mind just rejected it. After I quit my job I felt like I had control over my own time and free will, and it was then that I really started pursuing music more fearlessly.

JT: Yeah, I feel like there’s a huge character building that happens in that first year and then the following years almost get easier by contrast or something.

LM: I’m definitely less stressed out than I was that first year. There are always challenges and self-doubt, but I feel like I can return to familiar rooms in my mind and trust that I’ll overcome the moment.

That said, I still worry all the time if my music’s any good, if anyone resonates with it, and if other people like playing with me, etc. (Haha)

JT: And in those first couple of years were you already able to find some people to play with or did it take some time?

LM: I was playing with a lot of really great musicians, but the more I questioned my own artistic values, the more I was able to also find a community of people I resonated with emotionally and artistically. I also moved to Bushwick in November 2018 and started playing with people with completely different value systems. To be honest, I couldn’t relate at first. I heard Weasel Walter for the first time and remember thinking how weird and overwhelmed and intrigued I felt. There’s a record he’s on with Mary Halvorson and Peter Evans, and there are long stretches of time where he doesn’t play anything I can identify as a sound from the drum set. Hearing him along with other musicians like Brandon Lopez and Matteo Liberatore made me think consciously about all the musical choices I can make in any given moment. My first year living in Bushwick felt like everything I had known and felt about music was flipped upside down. I had to learn to engage with creative music beyond the ride cymbal being the main timbral focus...beyond jazz.

JT: I remember you telling me that you didn't start writing your own compositions right away.

LM: Yeah, I didn't really start writing until the end of 2018 with my band The Living Collection. It's funny to think that my first foray into writing was for a large chamber-like ensemble because I feel like I still have huge gaps in my knowledge of harmony and traditional compositional methods.

But it's something that also I think freed me from thinking I had to do a certain thing or compose in a certain way. I learned so much through trial and error...I'd have the flute in one octave and then have bass clarinet in another octave only to realize that the flute was barely audible. I had random mistakes in my chart, or very inconvenient ways of writing things, or literally impossible parts to play, so it was really trial by fire. But I think I learned through having a supportive group of friends for a band who would share their thoughts with me, and criticisms as well.

JT: I think I listened to everything there is currently available from that band. The music is really beautiful. I was wondering what is your concept for the music of the group?

LM: I think it's changed a lot. Some of the first compositions we played had many independent, moving parts. I was drawing a lot of inspiration from Henry Threadgill at that time. I was writing entirely notated music at one point, after listening to more contemporary classical composers like [Helmut] Lachenmann. Recently I’ve been thinking more about the idea of musical democracy and non-hierarchical ways of playing, improvisation being a vehicle for these social-cultural processes involved: spirituality, community-as-oneness, and communal joy. I hope to establish a context in which everyone can participate in music as a necessary ritualistic function.

JT: That brings me to the work that you've been doing with Polyfold Musical Arts Collective. How did it come about and how did you all start fleshing out these ideas?

LM: Well, I'm the newest member of Polyfold. The collective originally started in Detroit and consisted of 20-something musicians. It took on a new shape when a few of its members moved to Brooklyn in 2017, so the current membership includes myself, Yuma Uesaka, Alex Levine, and Ben Rolston. The idea is basically to expand opportunities for improvisers to create original music. That usually takes the form of a monthly concert series, something we call Polyfold Presents, but we’ve also put together these “Sunday Salons,” informal workshops where people can bring their music or share ideas they’re exploring. The idea comes from something Geri Allen used to do with her students. We recently have been working on our record label...your record was actually the first we put out in awhile! So thank you for all your work on that.

*Lesley adds: (Juanma’s band was originally scheduled to perform at the April concert series, but when COVID hit, we commissioned him along with the other artists that we scheduled to perform, to perform a creative work of any kind. He ended up recording four full-length compositions remotely with his band. It was so well recorded and the process was so representative of the moment that we decided to put it out on the label. Check it out - ‘Folklore’ by Juanma Trujillo.)

JT: How, would you describe the role that you have in the collective?

LM: It's hard to say, the structure and the nature of the organization has changed over time, our roles kind of shift as we go. I just worked on writing the last grant. Trying to put into words what exactly is it we do and making sure we're holding ourselves accountable for those things.

JT: Has being part of this initiative been rewarding in a way that you didn't expect? Has it helped you see things in a different way?

LM: Yeah, for sure. It’s made me realize how important and powerful organizing is for the improvised music community and how we all sort of depend on each other.

JT: Yeah, I think I wanted to get your input on that because I’ve been kind of pleasantly surprised to see that you guys as a group of artists who are already playing together and are good friends are also welcoming people from outside your circle. In my time living here I can confidently say that this is somewhat rare.

LM: Yeah..I hope it becomes less rare. I've met some people that have really made it feel like home here.

I think it’s hard to feel a sense of community in a place like New York, where artists-entrepreneurs are constantly up against so many things. It seems like everyone’s competing for the same opportunities.

I think community building starts on a personal level...who you hang out with or talk to, who’s in your band, what kind of bills you’re curating if you’re a bandleader. All of these things are part of what makes a community. The 501c3 is just a status.

JT: So we’ve talked about your main projects, but I can also see that you're doing quite a bit of one off gigs with people just improvising. How has that been helpful in your development?

LM: I often feel like there's a lot of pressure to play written music or to present something really polished, which I also enjoy, but it’s nice to get to know someone intimately without the pressure of following a specific musical format. It’s really invigorating getting to know their musical perspective in an open space and forming a connection.

Depending on the improvisational context, I sometimes feel that there’s nothing I wish to contribute on the drum set. It’s encouraged me to work on different techniques that might produce different sounds and timbres and to search for percussion instruments that might give me a broader range of expression. My dream is to build a drum cage like the one in that iconic photo with Roscoe Mitchell!

JT: Are there any of the other projects that you have that you would like to talk about or mention any other experiences that have been meaningful to you recently?

LM: I recently spent two weeks in Newton, MA with my good friends Maya and Akiva. We had no agenda other than to play music if we felt like it. It was one of the more intimate and spiritually fulfilling experiences I’ve had in awhile. The music felt like an extension of our cooking together, our swims in the lake, our humming. I listened back to some of the recordings we made a few days ago...it feels both personal and non-precious. It reminds me of these words by Nicole Mitchell--

“If you practice your connection to the stars enough, you can go anytime you please. The Dogon mastered it, but the shoebox architects sold kids on rap videos over stargazing. Doesn’t matter how much pollution, or how many ceilings or drones are flying above, the stars are there. I promise. No wonder Lightin’ Hopkins, Jeff Parker, Jimi Hendrix and all the bluesmen made their own vessel guitars to communicate here. And ever better, I’m tellin’ you, there are no consequences, no punishments and no side effects except joy and more strength. Can you imagine? I’m thinking, maybe we can build a bridge from pain to hope and insight and take all our families there.”

JT: Thank you Lesley!

LM: Yeah, thanks so much for doing this.

You can learn more about Lesley on her website: https://www.lesleymok.com/

Lesley has all her releases available on: https://lesleymok.bandcamp.com/

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

You Look Like Trouble (Morning Glory Wine - Cable/OC

Here’s chapter nine!

We’re almost done, y’all! The final chapter is already written, I’m just working on editing.

Also, I need to include a warning for this chapter. There's an action sequence that's grounded in a domestic situation. It's not graphic, but the situation is present. Please take care of yourself and skip over section three if you need to.

(And as always, not to be that person but if you’ve got the time and the inclination, kudos or a comment would be greatly appreciated.)

Taglist: @this-that-and-every-thing-else  @ptite-shit  @lesbianyondu@chromecutie  @gallifreyangrandtorino  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @akihecko@bigstarlightkingdom  @buckyjefferson  @lenavonschweetz

The front lawn of the mansion was emerald green and perfectly curated, the short blades of grass waving in the breeze. It was early morning; the sun had just peeked over the horizon, casting the lawn in oranges and golds. It was a hot morning, too hot to be comfortable for any amount of clothing, but nevertheless everyone was in full costume and raring to get the day started. 

Vivian stood on the front porch of the X-Mansion, staring out onto the front lawn. She was dressed and ready to head off to her shift at the clinic. She didn’t have to wear scrubs or a white coat anymore unless she just wanted to (she didn’t), so she’d chosen her usual civilian outfit of trousers and blouse. She was pretty sure she'd already sweat through her shirt in the mid-morning heat; the material clung to her back, sticky and wet. 

At that particular moment, Vivian wanted nothing more than to take another shower and just crawl back into bed. She’d stayed in Cable’s room at the mansion for convenience (and booty) that night despite the fact that she still had weeks left on her apartment lease. It was far more comforting to hole up for the night in Cable’s small, cozy room than going home to her empty apartment.

She'd been coming home to a multitude of empty rooms for so long that she'd forgotten how lovely it was to have someone waiting for her when she walked in the door. She was willing to admit (not out loud) that in the few weeks since that first night alone with Cable, it had gotten quite difficult to come home to her empty apartment when all she had to do was drive out to the mansion where, more likely than not, he would be waiting. She'd done her best to balance personal space with her attempts at affection, but even when she chose not to make the drive out to the mansion, more likely than not, he'd be on her doorstep sometime before midnight.

Part of the team Wade had lovingly dubbed the X-Force stood on the front porch with her. Of the three big, scary men waiting to get the day started, Wade was the only one still struggling to gear up. He swatted at the back of his neck, searching for the connecting panel of the velcro strip meant to secure his mask in place. Vivian reached up and smushed the velcro strips together, then patted his neck and stepped back. 

“Looks like you boys are all set,” Vivian said. She crossed her arms. “So who’s driving? Do any of you have a license?”

Colossus looked at his shoes sheepishly. “No need for driver’s license when you can’t fit in car.”

Cable shrugged. “I don’t exist here.”

“Yeah, no, that got taken away a long time ago,” Wade said cheerily, pulling out his phone. “Dopinder it is!”

Such a functional team. They’d get the hang of this X-Force thing eventually, probably. Maybe.

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Did you expect to walk back? You three big, scary dudes plus my skinny kids can’t fit in Dopinder’s taxi. Why don’t you just take the jet?”

“We wanted to go in more discreetly,” Colossus replied. He gleamed orange in the morning light. “But, in this case, perhaps the jet is the better choice.”

“Look, I don’t care how you do it,” Vivian said. “But you do have the access codes and a jet is a hell of a lot more official than rolling up in a taxi.”

Colossus nodded in agreement. “You make a good point. We will take the jet. Gentlemen, if you would follow me...”

Colossus headed out towards the back of the mansion, his skin gleaming brilliantly to the point of blinding everyone staring after him. Vivian shifted and picked at her fingernails before cracking her knuckles until they hurt. If there was anyone she trusted, it was these three, but she still felt nauseated at the thought of not going with them herself. But it had been so long since she'd trained for an active situation, she felt it was ultimately better to let the trained mercenaries handle ut. 

“We’ll handle it,” Cable said, as if sensing her discomfort. Not that he had to sense it, exactly; her skin was ashen and he'd heard her knuckles crack light thunder. He leaned in for Vivian to kiss his cheek. "You have every right to be worried, but we're gonna have them back here before you even get back from your shift."

Vivian shrugged, twisting her hands nervously as she’d been doing all morning. “I’m not worried. Who’s worried?”

“You broke two mugs this morning, reversed it, broke them again, then accidentally reversed the dishes that I washed.”

Vivian sighed. “Alright, I’m worried. I just have a bad feeling.”

Cable had a bad feeling too, but he didn't want to admit that out loud to her.“What do you have a bad feeling about?”

“Jack’s smarter than he looks," Vivian said. "I don’t know, I just have a weird mom feeling.”

Cable placed his hands on her shoulders. He wasn't too much taller than her, but he was just tall enough to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Whatever’s causing the weird mom feeling, we’ll handle it - okay? I’m gonna get them back here.”

“I know, I know. I trust you.”

“I’ll call you when we’ve got them. Just go do what you do best and keep your mind occupied. Don’t stick anybody too hard.”

“Right, right.”

She watched him head out to find Colossus. He'd wrapped a thin scarf around his neck - she couldn't fathom how he could be remotely comfortable with as many layers of clothing as he had on (which, truth be told, wasn't that many, but Vivian was basically always hot). She ultimately presumed it was meant to cover the ropes if tech slowly creeping up the back of his neck, so she didn't mention jt.

As he walked off, Wade leaned into Vivian’s side. “I need a favor.”

Vivian turned to him. He always smelled like sweat and leather. “The undying gratitude can wait until after you get Shelly and Benji.”

“Nothing overly self-indulgent," Wade replied. He was trying to cheer her up, or at least keep her mind occupied. "A buddy of mine is gonna meet you at the clinic. Gunshot wound.”

“Is this one of your “mysterious buddy” situations where I don’t ask the name?”

“Kind of, but if you ask him who he is, he’ll probably tell you.”

“Right. Got it," Vivian said. "Please be careful, Wade.”

"Hey, don't worry about me. I can take a bullet." He poked the tip of her nose. "Now, you go have a great day sticking your fingers into people's wounds. Or whatever you want to stick your fingers. I don't judge."

---

Vivian parked next to the clinic in her usual spot - the one that had her name (misspelled) painted on the cement.  She locked her tiny car behind her and walked into the clinic. The only person there other than the receptionist was a curious figure dressed all in black, holding his shoulder gingerly.

Vivian had seen some of Wade's shadier buddies on multiple occasions, but she was sure she’d never seen this guy before. In fact, she was a little surprised that Wade sent him to the clinic rather than asking her to run by and meet him at Sister Margaret's. But the clinic was in Queens - probably closer for whoever this guy was.

“You Wade’s friend?” Vivian asked.

The guy looked up at her. She could just barely see his eyes through the eyeholes of the ski mask he was wearing. “Yes, ma’am! That’s me.”

Vivian was taken aback. A mercenary calling her ma’am (who wasn’t Cable)? Unheard of. She motioned for him to follow her. “I’m Dr. Sharpe, if you'll follow me. Heard you’ve got a gunshot wound.”

“Following! And yes, ma'am.”

Vivian led him into a back room and closed the door gently behind her. The TV was blaring loudly in the corner - just the local news reporting on something bad, as usual. “Alright, show me whatever’s bleeding.”

He sat down on the exam table. Once again, Vivian was a little shaken by how young he sounded. “Yes, ma’am.” 

The guy took off his shirt and tossed it onto the counter but kept his mask on. There was a bullet wound on his right shoulder with no exit - whatever the bullet’s caliber was enough to take a pretty good plug out of him but not enough to blow through his shoulder.

Vivian peered into the wound. “Well, you’d be in better shape if it was a clean hit. I’m gonna have to poke around a little bit to look, but depending on the location, I may not have to get the shrapnel out. Either way, it’s not going to feel good.”

“Whatever needs to be done. Just - I can pay cash. As long as I don’t put it on my aun- my insurance.”

Vivian laughed. “I’m guessing you’ve never done the backroom-doctor deal before. Don’t worry - Wade’s taking care of it.”

“Okay." Definitely a kid, then. He seemed relieved. "Okay. Good.”

Vivian pulled what she needed out of the cabinets and laid it all out of a tray. The kid shifted nervously, trying not to move his shoulder. There was no way this guy was over 21 - not with the musculature and voice.

She sat down across from him in her rolling chair. “Alright kid, how old are you?”

“What- I-?” The guy (kid) cleared his throat and tried to sound less nervous and squeaky. “I’m old enough, ma’am.”

“You couldn’t be older than sixteen,” Vivian said, staring him dead in the eye. She noted all the scars and marks on his exposed skin. “You've been doing… whatever you've been doing for a while, but haven't taken a real serious hit until now. Wait - are you that Spiderman kid?”

“Seventeen!” the boy said, sighing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m Spiderman. Now can you please get this bullet out of my shoulder? Accelerated healing doesn’t work if there’s still shrapnel.”

“Shit - I thought Wade was joking!” Vivian said. She gently tugged the mask over his head. “How’d you get roped in with Wade? I thought you were an Avenger.”

“Shoulder!”

Vivian rolled her eyes and pulled out a syringe filled with lidocaine. She shot his shoulder full of painkillers and waited for the solution to take effect. “He’s not getting you to do weird shit, is he?”

“No, he took care of something in Queens for me about a year ago. I got shot last night and I didn’t know who to call, so I called him.”

“Well, I’m the best backroom doctor you’ll find,” Vivian replied, checking his shoulder. “Numb enough?”

“Yeah.”

“Hold still. I’m gonna check the wound. Since the shrapnel is in your shoulder, it may not necessarily need to come out. Bad news is, you'll have to heal like a normal human, but I'll give you some antibiotics to help with that.” Vivian peered into the wound and found that she could see the tail end of the bullet close to the skin. “So what happened?”

“Guy shot me point-blank with a .50 cal. My suit absorbed most of it, but it still got through.”

“Must have been a strong suit. A .50 cal. will take your whole arm off.” She took a pair of forceps, took hold of the end of the bullet, and removed it as quickly as she could. The wound leaked, but she could see the skin knitting back together. “I’m going to give you a round of antibiotics anyway just to be safe. Don’t get an MRI without getting an x-ray first. It looks like I got the whole bullet out, but you never know.”

He moved his shoulder gingerly. “Thank you, Dr. Sharpe.”

“Anytime, Spidey.” Vivian placed a patch on his shoulder and taped it down. “Look, you seem like a good kid. Don’t let Wade get you into trouble, okay?”

“I won’t.” He looked up at the TV, face twisted in surprise. “Hey, he’s on TV right now! Oh, that looks bad. I should go help-”

“Wade’s on the TV?” Vivian looked around for the remote and turned the volume back up.

“Authorities have been called to the scene of what seems to be a hostage situation involving an adult male and two children. It appears that a team known as the X-Force have responded to the distress.”

“Where are my fucking kids, Wade?” Vivian asked to no one in particular. 

"Sources have indicated gunfire but no confirmed casualties. No demands have been made yet."

Spiderman looked up at the TV with a certain amount of concern. “I should go help with that!”

Vivian shook her head and patted his back (on the side that hadn't been shot).“No, Spidey, that’s gonna be my job. But I’d appreciate you being on standby for when I murder Wade so you can take his place.”

The poor kid didn’t look like he knew whether to laugh or agree. Being a smart kid, he agreed. “Okay.”

“Take care of yourself, Spidey. I’m gonna go save my kids.”

---

“So, this is not going well,” Wade said, ducking behind a car parked in front of the warehouse.

“Ya think?” Cable yelled, ducking behind the same car. Jack had been firing out the door for some time now. Usually, they’d just barge in were it not for the fact that he had a second gun trained on both kids. “We need a game plan!”

Colossus leaned against the back bumper of the same car, peeking around the side every time the firing stopped. “I’d say wait until he runs out of bullets, but I’m afraid we’d be too late.”

A tiny black car rolled up beside them containing Vivian. She was not in a good mood.

“What the fuck is going on?” Vivian yelled, throwing open the car door. 

“He already had a gun trained on them when we arrived at the house. Apparently something happened earlier and we walked in on it. He fled, we followed.” Colossus explained as gently as he could.

“What has he been saying?” Vivian asked, trying to peer into the half-open front door. The windows were all busted out, but she couldn’t see past the leftover dirty broken glass still attached to the window frames.

“Says no one can have them, if we get close, he’ll shoot, he’ll take care of his mutant kids himself. The works,” Wade replied. “Basic familial hostage situation.”

Vivian groaned. “Anyone got a plan? Hmm? Or are we just gonna stand here until one of those bullets actually makes contact?”

“I’ve got a plan,” Cable said, all-too-calmly. He’d reached the pinnacle of mercenary - cold, calculating, methodical. A perfect antithesis to Wade’s shoot-first method. “Deadpool and Colossus create a distraction and draw fire, since bullets won’t have any effect on them. Colossus may be able to de-escalate, anyway. I’ll sneak around behind the warehouse, go in through the back, and take him out before he hears me coming. Viv, you find a way to get up to the second floor and be on standby in case he fires in a direction we don’t want him to fire. You can put the bullet back in the chamber.”

“Works for me,” Wade said. He holstered both of the pistols in his hands.

Colossus nodded. “Agreed. I will try to talk him down.”

Vivian bit her lip. “There’s an AC unit around the side - should be tall enough for me to climb up onto the ledge to get to the second floor.”

Cable nodded. “I’m heading around back.”

The unit was directly under the end of a ladder that dangled into the open air. Vivian hopped on top of the AC unit with as little clanging and banging as she could manage. The edge of the ladder hung just within reach above the unit. She climbed the ladder and swung up onto the ledge, making a mental note to talk to Colossus about some serious training if they all made it out in one piece. She found a window out of the line of sight and crawled through it.

Jack was on the warehouse floor with Benji and Shelly, guns blazing. He had Benji tied to a column, still in his pajamas. Shelly was braced underneath one of Jack's arms.

Colossus and Wade both braced the door. Wade poked his head in just past the door frame. “Jack - this is ridiculous, just let them go.”

“Get back!”

“Come on, they’re your kids - you don’t want to hurt them.”

“I’d rather kill them myself than hand them over to you.”

“You really don’t want to do that!” Wade called back, poking his head past the door again. Another bullet whizzed by his head.

Vivian caught Cable creeping in the back out of the corner of her eye. He had yet to be seen by anyone else and she was still out of the line of sight. As Cable creeped in, Wade poked his head further past the front door.

“No, you don’t.”

Jack fired the gun trained on Benji. Vivian lashed out, freezing the bullet just before it hit the mark. She held steady just long enough to redirect the force from that distance. “Cable!”

“Send it back now! I’ve got them!”

Cable grabbed Shelly out from under Jack’s arm and shoved him just far enough into the path of the bullet that when Vivian sent it back, it caught him in the knee. He picked Shelly up and kicked the gun out of reach before untying Benji and sending him out the front door with Colossus and Deadpool.

Vivian climbed down the ladder and picked both of Jack’s guns up before leaning down over the man’s head. “None of this was necessary.”

“Get out of my face,” he said, spitting at her. “You took out my fucking knee cap.”

“You’re lucky I don’t take your head off,” Vivian replied, wiping the spit off of her shoe with the sleeve of his shirt.

“You gonna kill me?”

“You deserve it. But no - not in front of them. I’ll leave the cops to deal with you.”

“You can’t just leave me on the ground like this!”

“Watch me.”

Vivian slammed the warehouse door behind her. Colossus was directing the authorities into the building in a show of his usual responsibility. Benji sat on the ground at Wade’s feet, staring blankly at the sky and just letting the man fuss over him. Shelly was still firmly latched to Cable’s side. He stroked her hair and mumbled into her ear that she was okay, that everything was okay. 

As soon as they caught sight of her, they launched themselves into her waiting arms. She let them cry, one on each shoulder, for the better part of two minutes before taking each one under her arm and directing them to her car. 

“Let’s get you two somewhere safe,” Vivian said, motioning for Cable to follow her. Colossus trailed along while Wade caught up. “You’re both going to counseling first thing in the morning.”

Vivian put both of them in the backseat, then reached into the front to crank the car up. She shut the door and turned to Cable before grabbing him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she said, unwilling to let him go. 

“Nothing to thank me for,” Cable replied, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll talk about it back at home.”

She grabbed Colossus and Wade in turn as they walked up. They all smelled like sweat and stress - unpleasant in the heat. “I’ll meet you three back there. I’m gonna go get them food.”

“We’re gonna go get their stuff,” Wade replied. “Then we’ll meet you back at the mansion.”

“Don’t case the place,” Vivian said, climbing into the front seat and shutting the door behind her. She rolled down the driver’s window. “On second thought - have fun.”

---

Vivian let herself into Cable’s room after she’d gotten Benji and Shelly settled in their respective rooms. She would stay the night again, and in the morning, she was going to get her stuff and set up her room at the mansion earlier than expected. She suspected she’d be spending more nights in Cable’s room than in her own, but it was far too soon to start piling her shit in his private space.

Cable looked up as she walked in. “How are they doing?”

Vivian flopped down on the bed, beyond exhausted. “They've both got counseling appointments in the morning. Benji seems comfortable enough in his room, but I guarantee Shelly won’t stay in her room tonight. She’ll be banging on the door in the next couple of hours.”

Cable fiddled with a gun over in the corner of a room, wiggling it apart so that he could clean it. A gun manual lay open in front of him on the table. “Maybe not. They could barely stay awake through dinner.”

“I could barely stay awake through dinner. I haven’t done that in years,” Vivian replied, stretching. Her arms were on fire, and she knew she’d be sore tomorrow. She really had to get on Colossus’ training schedule. “I can’t believe you’re not tired.”

He smirked, a rueful smile. “I’m used to it.”

“I know.” Vivian grabbed a pillow and pulled it to her chest. It was the pillow Cable usually slept on. It smelled like him. “What a terrible thing to be used to.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, reattaching the gun parts after swabbing them with a soft cotton pad. “I’ll turn the light off if you want to go to sleep.”

“Please.”

Cable got up and padded over towards the light switch. He took a long look at her before switching off the light. Vivian had changed out of her work clothes and into a pair of pajamas, her hair piled up in a bun on top of her head. The circles under her eyes were worse than ever and it was barely 10PM. He flipped the light switch, leaving the room lit only by his desk lamp. 

Instead of going back over to his desk, he crawled into bed next to her, back leaning against the headboard of the bed, and pulled her into his lap. She maneuvered so that her head rested against his abdomen, arms wrapped around one of his legs. He stroked her hair, nails dragging gently long her neck. She took his wrist and kissed the back of his hand, lips trailing along one of the veins.

“You need sleep,” Cable said. His hand ran across her shoulders, working at the knots of tension that he could find.

“Put me to sleep, then.”

He chuckled in her ear, running his hands up the back of her neck. “How about this: in the morning, after you get a full night’s sleep, I’ll make sure the door is locked and we’ll get the day started right.”

“And then you can take a shower with me.”

“That’s right.”

“Okay,” Vivian yawned, nuzzling into his leg. “Wake me up if they knock.”

“If they knock, I’ll take care of it.”

“That’s asking too much. You literally just met them this morning.”

“Doesn’t matter. If they don’t want me, I’ll come wake you up.”

Vivian didn’t say it, but in the thick haze of exhaustion, she caught herself thinking it. Those words. Those three terrifying words. She didn’t dare let that slip out, though. Not when they’d finally made progress. It was too much, too soon. 

So instead, she went for the safer option. “Thank you.”

“You can thank me by sleeping.”

---

Cable had carefully extricated himself from Vivian’s grip after she’d finally gone to sleep and replaced his leg with a pillow. She didn’t know the difference; she was out like a light. He sat at his desk, tinkering with some weapon and a manual he was trying to interpret (he’d had to relearn a few things about past weapons). True to prediction, at approximately midnight came a soft knock at the door.

When the knock came, he pulled on a shirt and answered the door. On the other side of the wooden frame stood Shelly, hair disheveled from a restless sleep and eyes red. She blinked up at him blearily, her eleven-year-old brain working to comprehend what she was seeing.

“Where’s mom?” she asked, rubbing crusties out of her eyes. She carried a stuffed animal in one hand, obviously old and worn from use. It looked like a rabbit - or that it had once been a rabbit - but it was too old to really tell.

“Asleep,” Cable replied gently, “Like you should be.”

“I tried,” Shelly replied. “Water would help, but I don’t remember where the kitchen is.”

“Come on. I’ll get it for you.”

He guided her downstairs, treading lightly so as not to disturb anyone else. He could hear snores in several different rooms, mostly snores from people he hadn’t seen yet. Most of the other residents were gone during the day, so he didn’t usually run into anyone. He led her into one of the few tiny kitchenettes and grabbed a glass from an overhead cabinet, filling it with tap water. He handed her the glass and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for her to sit at. 

“Thank you, Cable.” Shelly took a sip and stared at him again. She had the same eyes as Vivian - wide and piercing, as if she could make you tell the truth just by staring at you. “Are you my mom’s boyfriend?”

He almost smiled. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, after you’ve slept. Now, finish that so you can go back to bed.”

Shelly drained the rest of her glass and left it on the table. “Just yes or no.”

“Yeah,” Cable replied. He took the glass and put it in the sink, making a mental note to come back and wash it in the morning. “Now, come on. Back to bed.”

[hyperesthesias]

6 Points for 6 Rooms -- A Review of No-End House

OKAY -- so I finished Channel Zero: No-End House last night. I have some...feelings so I decided to write a review because I needed to get it out of my head. There are spoilers in this review, if you haven’t seen it, but I’ll put them under a cut.

Generally, the plot took an idea that has been a fairly common theme in the horror genre for a while. Nonetheless, it is a concept that has a lot of wiggle room and has a lot of opportunity for creative development and liberty. That being said, they missed a lot of those opportunities, which left me, as both a viewer and a writer, feeling somewhat disappointed and unsatisfied. With just six episodes, this show had the potential to be so much more than it was, but it felt they were playing it safe. 

When I started watching, I was under the impression I’d be immersed in something much different. I’m familiar with CreepyPasta, (I used to be a big fan, six or seven years ago) and knew that Channel Zero was based on various CreepyPasta stories, so there was a part of me that was expecting the traditional CreepyPasta horror-fest stereotype. However, there was little about this show that qualified as ‘horror’ (which might be a little more manageable for those who don’t particularly like horror). That being said, the general vibe of this show could be summed up in two words: indecisively unsettling. Rather than horror, it seemed the writers wanted to give people the impression of ‘creepy’. However, it seemed the writers wanted to incorporate as many ‘creepy’ archetypes into this six episode mini-series as they could possibly manage, while somehow leaving the viewer unsure how to take it all.

Just as a general disclaimer: I want people to know I actually liked this show, but there were so many things that could have been easily refined to make this experience that much better, that I couldn’t keep quiet. So, just keep in mind I did like what I saw, I’m just a critical jackass. :)

1.  The Creep Factor:

Between the strange videos that they receive on their phones, laptops, and TVs regarding The House; the music composition containing voices playing backwards; the man in the mask; the pedo guy behind the mirror; zombie dad; and the Harbinger Stranger** from the bar (who we won’t find out about until later) -- this show has a distinct vibe it knows it wants. Its main goal is to creep the audience, not so much divulge them into horror. It wants to make us curious and draw us in, a great tactic for an idea that has been done several times before. It knows it wants to be set apart. The problem lies in the execution. 

The music composition stood out the most to me, as a musician. From the opening sequence, the music wants to tell you a story. It wants to tell you the emotional connection between our Protagonist and her Father, and eventually how that emotional connection is then shared with The House. Throughout the series, the music is trying to tell the viewer that these characters are trapped inside The House, along with everyone else -- that The House has actually consumed these people -- by way of the backward vocal recordings. That was mindblowing, I loved it. However, the placement of beats and downbeats were too far off. They didn’t make a sea-sick beat that gave off an unsettling vibe, it didn’t make lyrical sense. It felt distracting rather than adding to an element. There was a distinct pattern that followed the characters through their journey of The House: Enter, scare, pause, move on, repeat. But the music does not match this pattern, thus making the plot feel a little off-centered.

The House feeds on memories, sucking them dry until the victim remains an empty shell, which the viewer doesn’t know until later. The viewer is told The House is ‘psychological’, that it ‘gets in your head’, but for all the exposition, there is no explanation as to why. There is never given a reason or an origin to The House, the characters and thus the viewers are meant to accept The House as it is. The idea is to obscure as much as possible to build on the ‘creepy’ elements, and the mystery and curiosity behind its novelty: no one knows what The House is, who built, who manages is, neither how it works. But The Creep Factor doesn’t work for this scenario. The House is supposed to be ‘haunted’, a haunted art project that scares its occupants, lures them in with the appeal of the unknown. But haunted houses only work with the guarantee that you’ll be scared. Haunted houses feed off of Fear, and fear only stems from Doubt and Uncertainty. We are shown no uncertainty besides an urban legend told around a bar table, and that legend is promptly laughed at. Verbal exposition is not enough to sell it, you need something more: Have the people who have exited or escaped The House them spoken out? Are they still looking for the people who were lost inside? Are they scarred for life? Surely, they’ve recounted something about what they saw inside. We later see Jules on a Forum about The House, so we know these people are out there, but why aren’t they being used as the backbone for this legend? Surely, there had to be more people looking for their spouses, their friends, their families. Their fear would make others curious, and attempt to take up the challenge in their weakness.

One other thing is the unnecessary addition of the Orb. No one really knows what it is, it doesn’t even seem like Seth knows, and he lives there. Jules has a family, and it’s presumed they live in the same neighbourhood since she referred to it as “home”. So why didn’t The House create a home for her? She and Seth find an empty house to sleep in, (sidenote: we never really know where Seth actually lives -- later, he lives with Margot**), and she doesn’t have anywhere to go or fit in. However, the Orb continually follows her, but its origins are never explained, even though its purpose is clear: it shares the same goal as the other Manifestations, to consume memories. 

A lot of details in this show, like the Orb, the man in the mask, and pedo mirror guy, felt like the writers wanted it all. They just wanted every creepy thing they could think of, every creepy trope, instead of sticking with one or two to make it better digestible. (No pun intended.)

You can’t solely rely on the creep factor in this kind of genre -- even if it isn’t explicit horror, even if it’s supposed to be ‘psychological’. Fear is one of the most powerful psychological tools. Use it. Which is why the rooms consisting of the man in the mask, the zombie dad, and the pedo mirror guy fell kind of...flat. No one was as afraid as they should have been. Humans are reactional creatures -- we feed off of each others’ emotions. The people exiting The House throwing up never once said: “Don’t go in there! Please!! I’m begging you!”, Margot seemed stunned when the man in the mask called her “Martian”, but she never once went “WTF how TF do you know what my dead dad called me?!”; and while she was scared of the man behind the mirror, there still wasn’t the critical reaction of: “how the hell did this place know what I dreamt all those years ago?”** The House is accepted for what it is, and it does not illicit the reaction it could have.

2.  JT:

Sigh. This is a prime example of “We want to incorporate what we can from the original story, but we’re not sure how, so we’re going to completely waste this opportunity of creativity.” I did not read the original CreepyPasta for No-End House before I watched the show because I wanted an untainted perspective. Therefore, I was left utterly confused as to why the hell JT was the only character to encounter himself, and why his House Self killed his Real Self. Honestly...I’m still a little on the fence. I can make psychological assumptions: JT was always more in his head than he was present, he was introverted when he wanted to be extroverted, he was awkward, uncertain of himself, and liked to think of himself as “cooler” or “better” than he was; thus, his House Self, feeding off of his internal energy, was more powerful than his Real Self. But this still leaves gaping holes and questions.

In the original CreepyPasta, the Protagonist encounters a version of himself, and this version of himself is actually the door to the next room. He has to cut this version of himself open in order to access the next room. They fight and wrestle for control, until Protagonist manages to knife him and open him up. 

None of this happened in the show. None of it, except for JT meeting another version of himself that wanted to escape The House and go to the real world. But we were never told why -- yeah, he wanted “real world experiences” such as eating ice cream, but there was no real connection. This goes in hand with “The Creep Factor”. It felt that this was done just to weird the audience out, with no real merit to the story. JT dies two episodes in, and Fake JT dies halfway through the story, adding really...nothing to the plot. JT told them about The House, sure, but if Seth was actually the one who brought people to The House, why was JT even needed? 

The impact of JT seeing himself could have been used so much more wisely. If they didn’t want to dip into the element of gore (which really didn’t seem to be too much of a problem, considering the embodiment of memories), stabbing the Fake version of himself in Room 5 could have been what he’d seen, as he never really explained what it was he saw there, besides acknowledging he’d seen a frightening image of himself. This would have freed up his character for the duration of the series, and if they still wanted to kill him off, he could have still died outside the cornfield, but at least we would have had a complete picture of what mostly everyone** had seen in Room 5. And whenever you can, show! Don’t tell!

3.  Dylan & Lacey:

This was your chance!!! This was your chance to show, not tell!! You nearly missed it! We were shown that Lacey recalled nothing of Dylan, that she’d built a life for herself without the recollection of the outside world. Their story was heartbreaking, but somehow also mildly forgettable. It all goes back to the fact that there are a lot of unanswered questions and misuse of screentime. What’s up with Dylan? Why didn’t we see more of him? Just when we were starting to, he was killed. We were told he’s been looking for The House, and he seems pissed. Has it only been a year? Has it been more? What about Lacey? Is there nothing that she remembers? Not even a smidge? Did she actually remember the necklace, or was she faking it? Their story could have gone longer, or at least more in depth if they couldn’t juggle screentime -- but this screentime was wasted primarily on him trying to overpower her and subdue her. However, their deaths did have some impact, in that they showed how powerful the Maniestations’ hunger is, and how ruthless Margot’s ‘Dad’ could be, and why she should be so afraid of him.

4. Memory Munchies:

Obviously, in the CreepyPasta there was no mention of The House actually consuming its occupants’ memories, this was creative liberty, or some kind of story addition worked out with the original author. And it is an awesome idea. I love it so much. It’s so rich and full, just like memories themselves. It has the potential for fear -- like with Jules and Margot -- and it has the potential for comfort -- like with Seth**. My only nitpick with this was it was a little confusing. Not only in how it was eventually revealed, (which is forgiveable, because we’re seeing all this from the Protagonists’ point of view, and no one has any idea what the hell is going on) but in a single thought: why weren’t the Protagonists more outnumbered? 

There’s a great scene where they’re running through the school, hiding from her Father, who has been chasing Margot because he’s famished. But why isn’t more than just him? It was four of them against one of him (with some sorely convenient timing by “JT” and Seth). Was there a rule that Manifestations of The House could only consume the memories of their prospective relations, or the people they’re supposed to live with or be connected to? If that’s the case, why was Lacey being fed off of by a husband of her own creation, but Jules was fed off of by the Orb? But then what about the Cornfield? After a certain point of hunger, do the rules just not apply any more, or are they breaking the rules of The House, and that’s why they’re cordoned off to the Cornfield?  It seemed they could leave the Cornfield, so what was stopping them from searching for them outside of the Cornfield? (sidenote: Jules said she remembered the Cornfield from when Margots’ Dad took them, so were the starving Manifestations always there, and that area was disguising itself as a Cornfield? Or did the Manifestations find the Cornfield because it was one of her memories, hoping for a snack? This entire plot sequence would have made more sense if the area had been generic, rather than connecting it to something from her past.) 

This was a more mild missed opportunity: There were Manifestations that followed them to the edge of the neighbourhood, but what made them stop? They had no reason to stop, we were never told they couldn’t go beyond a certain point, and that’s proven by the starving Manifestations in the Cornfield. If they were as hungry as was shown, they would have needed them to stay. So why did this happen? There was the potential for a lot of fear and action here, where they could be chased through the forest and fields, possibly making “JT”’s, and Dylan’s and Lacey’s deaths a lot more interesting or at least intense.

5.  The Ending: 

Okay, another massive plot hole for me was the ending. There was no real resolution. Margot and Jules escaped The House, (and can we just acknowledge how badass Jules was?) but there was no resolution. There was just the denouement, and barely one at that. We’re explained about Seth and his involvement with bringing people into The House**, and he’s promptly consumed by these Manifestations, and we’re left to assume he becomes another hollowed out addition to The House. But there was continual talk throughout the final episode that they wanted to destroy The House, however we never see Margot or Jules go through with any kind of plan to do so. So, the viewer is also left to assume The House is still standing and will continue to consume more occupants every year. This was a rather unsatisfying ending, not only because The House was left standing, but because of the final point below:

6.  **Seth:

YOU BLEW IT!! You freakin’ blew it!! The best male character on the show, and they totally veered his character left, and ran him into a ditch! I was absolutely incredulous. I’m still so mad this character was WASTED. 

From the end of episode two and the beginning of episode three, I was rooting for Seth to actually BE The House! Doing so would have tied everything together, even Seth coming out of The House to find Margot’s Dad to (in this theory) make sure the Manifesation didn’t compromise the integrity of his secret, of himself, The House. Seth lured people to The House, he barely said a word about what he saw in Room 5, he admired its workings, and nothing ever seemed to touch him. Plus, just something I noticed: everything Margot told him about herself was reflected inside it. 

It would have made a lot more sense to have The House be an actual, emotional entity, rather than just an “organism”. Especially since Seth hadn’t “anticipated on liking Margot so much”. It would have explained how she managed to be somewhat unscathed, and why she was allowed to leave the first time, because The House cared about her. It would have added a much needed layer of relateability to an unrelateable structure, and it could have been so easily explainable, especially with how he repeatedly mentioned his background and its connection to The House. 

To show, or even tell this story would not have taken up a lot of time. It was one that could be recounted, rather than shown, if screentime was an issue: That he was a foster child, who’d been frightened, and hurt, and had been through hardship and presumable abuse -- that all of this had riled in him a supernatural link. A link that he used to protect himself when in his next home, by hiding in the house, by pretending he was in a place that was better. That this house protected him from his current family, until one day he found that he had this special connection to this house, that it responded to his will, by creating other rooms, or other interiors. And eventually, he made for himself an alternate reality, where he caged his foster family so they could never harm him again. But even after all of this, he’s still hurting because he still wants the family he seeks, so he goes from city to city year after year searching for that family, searching for good memories to fill the gaps in his own. Until one day, he meets a girl who feels like as lost as he is, who feels just as abandoned and angry and depressed. Someone with whom he feels a connection, one he’s never felt before, and he realises he doesn’t want anything to hurt her, that he wants her to stay. 

This would have kept the integrities of both the character of Seth, and The House. Neither The House, nor Seth were evil entities, and combined, he would have been a much more relateable substance. The House gave people the chance to turn back, by way of the exit doors, and Room 6 was a well known secret: no one ever came back. The House in the series is more like an amoeba than anything else: it doesn’t have a will, it doesn’t have a personhood. But to make it truly frightening, combining it with the raw energy of this hurting person, that The House could do anything at his beck and call, would have changed the game for the better. It would have made the exits make more sense. Because in the series, it doesn’t follow why The House would ever let people go, it’s indiscriminate in who it ‘eats’. But as a person, it would not be. It would show mercy. Seth, knowing the pain of having no one, could then create a reality for each person, whatever they wanted, so they wouldn’t be in pain while they were fed off of, essentially. That shows mercy, something a house, by itself, couldn’t do.

But no. Unfortunately, none of that happened. Instead, Seth was regaled to a jackass boyfriend with commitment issues stemming from abandonment. 

A glaring opportunity wasted. Absolutely, utterly so. 

The worst part, is that it directly could have affected way the story ended: if they somehow found a way to defeat Seth, who was The House, The House would never have harmed anyone again, thus closing the plot point they missed. 

All in all, I enjoyed it. I liked that there was no gratuitous gore or violence, especially no sexual violence. I adored how they made the consumption of memories, it was unique and colorful. Every actor played their part to a T, and I felt for their characters. I could understand where they were coming from. But they could have been given a better story to work with, and that’s the downfall of this show. It keeps with the CreepyPasta feel and theme, which is unfortunately immature and underexposed writing that leaves one wanting for something more. 

[highbuttonsports]

THIS WEEK IN JETS HOCKEY….

Every Thursday at The High Button, we explore the events and stories of the Winnipeg Jets on and off the ice! This week, the Jets get into the win column three times, another stellar performance from Laurent Brossoit, some new look lines and pairings, and more:

GAMES SINCE LAST THURSDAY IN THIRTY SECONDS:

Thursday February 25th: Winnipeg wins 6-3 at home over the Canadiens. Dominique Ducharme made his NHL head coaching debut for the Montreal Canadiens, and it got off to a great start with a pair of goals in the first period from former Jet forward Joel Armia. However, in the second period, the Canadiens’ let the Jets take over the game. Winnipeg had three in the 2nd and 3rd periods each, including a three-point night from captain Blake Wheeler. The Jets outshot the Habs 30-21 overall and 21-19 at 5-on-5. Overall, this was somewhat of a timid performance by the Habs. The Jets are very much like an unstoppable force once they take hold of the momentum of a game, and that was very obvious in this win. JETS PLAYER OF THE GAME: Credit where credit is due, Blake Wheeler with a goal and two assists. The captain was great.

Saturday February 27th: Winnipeg wins 2-1 at home in OVERTIME over the Canadiens. Good evening, Mr. Hellebuyck! The Canadiens outshot the Jets 36-14 (!!!) at 5-on-5, 41-21 overall, with just a 29% xGF share for the Jets. The explanation? The Canadiens were a lot more organized and careful in the neutral zone when they had possession of the puck, and we able to maintain their possessions and limit what they gave the Jets. Having said that, careful doesn’t always translate to offence. Despite the xGF disparity, the high danger scoring chances were just 12-8 for Montreal. Of those 41 shots, the Jets played organized defence and we able to limit what the Canadiens got. In short, this was one of those games that was deceiving by the numbers. Nikolaj Ehlers scored on the power play in the second period to break the ice. Additionally, Paul Stastny had the overtime winner from Ehlers and Connor. That’s right, three forwards in overtime. More on that later. JETS PLAYER OF THE GAME: Nikolaj Ehlers was able to generate some offence in a game without it, with his eleventh of the season plus an assist.

Monday March 1st: The Canucks blank the Jets 4-0 at home. The Jets were shutout at Bell MTS Place for the first time since January 12th 2020. Credit that to a very poor start. The Canucks took a 3-0 lead in the first period and never looked back. However, that was perhaps a product of the first period lead for Vancouver. Nate Schmidt, JT Miller, and Nils Hoglander all scored in the first period for the Canucks. Following that period, the Canucks managed just six shots on net over the next forty minutes. This was particularly frustrating given the fact the Jets had the puck for most of the final 40 minutes of this game. It was one of those nights where they skated well, but weren’t particularly dangerous either. I would think there will be moments from this game referenced by the Jets video coach Matt Prefontaine in the event of a similar game down the stretch. JETS PLAYER OF THE GAME: Kyle Connor had some good chances, and skated well, even if his stat-line is nothing more than minus-one and seven shots over 15:42 of ice-time.

Tuesday March 2nd: The Jets get revenge from the night before with a 5-2 win over the Canucks. Laurent Brossoit got the start on the second half of a back-to-back to give Hellebuyck some rest. On reverse retro night, Brossoit was looking fantastic in his new kit.

https://twitter.com/NHLJets/status/1366955834866024448?s=20

Look good feel good, ya know? Brossoit made 31 saves on 33 shots, and continued his strong season of relief. More on Brossoit later.

The Jets were much better on Tuesday night than during their 4-0 loss the night prior. The Jets outshot the Canucks 35-26 at 5-on-5, 39-33 overall, and had an 62.27% xGF share. If you’re a Jets fan and you didn’t watch the game, this was genuinely one of the Jets’ strongest performances of the season. They steadily generated offense, looked dialled in defensively, and executed their game-plan of controlling possession pretty consistently with few breakdowns. This is a super positive note given the Jets upcoming schedule on the road. JETS PLAYER OF THE GAME: Mason Appleton. Despite just the one goal in a night where teammates had multi-point nights, it was an important one as it seemed to set the tone for the game. He was stout defensively, and is growing more and more important for this team.

ABANDON ALL DEFENSEMEN IN OVERTIME

Paul Maurice has shown a commitment in his two latest overtime opportunities to throw three forwards over the wall in lieu of a defensemen in overtime, and it has paid off immediately. The Jets have won their last two overtime games on the first shift, and this approach has gained attention around the league. TSN’s Ray Ferraro tweeted after Saturday’s game before mentioning it on his podcast this week:

https://twitter.com/rayferrarotsn/status/1365901309186957313?s=20

This approach may not work for all NHL teams, and while I do expect there to be some copycat attempts in the near future, the Jets are one of those teams that have long been built for this strategy. The Jets have a top-six forward group (or eight or nine really) that rival most of the best teams in the league. Given that they carry momentum when they have it like a full-steam freight train, it makes sense to try and strike while the iron is hot. This is something to keep an eye on, both for the Jets and around the NHL. I am particularly curious if another team tries it against Winnipeg, and if so, I feel like that might be the Leafs this coming week.

THE GOALTENDING PLAN

I grew up cheering for the Toronto Maple Leafs, so I need to make myself very clear right from the get-go on this one: there is by no means a goaltending controversy in Winnipeg. Hellebuyck is the guy. That’s his net. However, there is an obvious conversation to have here. In the month of March, the Winnipeg Jets play seventeen games in thirty one days. Of those seventeen games, they have three back-to-back situations. This guarantee’s backup Laurent Brossoit at least three games if he is healthy and ready to go. Having said that, even with a bonafide number one, it is a good idea to give the guy an extra day off here and there. This is worth serious consideration for the Jets.

Since the start of 2016-17, Frederik Andersen is the only goaltender that has spent more time in net in the NHL than Connor Hellebuyck. While this is for good reason, the Jets have an opportunity to work in Brossoit an extra game or two this month. It is only natural for the physical toll to take effect. Of these fifteen remaining games this month, I’d like to see Brossoit in at least five of them. Hellebuyck will likely get the go in all three games next week as the Jets attempt to chase down the Leafs for top spot in the Scotia North. Aside from that, I think it’s a good idea to start Brossoit this Saturday against Montreal in order for Hellebuyck to be rested from next week, and resume the plan of rest the following week.

Do I think the Jets will do this? Perhaps not extra the way I’d map it out. However, I think it’s likely that Brossoit gets into a couple extra starts this month.

- Tyler