#minific

[xxgoldie]

kinich x reader, modern au, gamer!kinich, gn!reader, established relationship, probably ooc kinich or he's just that down bad for u

thinking about kinich, who is reminded of your wedding while chatting to his gaming buddies between matches, and doesn't understant the outcry when he finishes his anecdote.

"you're MARRIED!?!?"

the exclamation rang so loudly through his headset that the sound became warped.

"yeah? I have been for a while."

"what the fuck dude. since fucking when??"

"like nearly three years now? our anniversary's next month- have I seriously not mentioned this?"

"no!! I mean, I knew about (Y/N), but you've never mentioned being married!"

the revelation struck kinich into silence. sure, it wasn't the kind of group that regularly talked about their personal life, but he must have mentioned being married to you - he had been gaming with these people since barely after your wedding. he spoke of you often enough, albeit in passing.

...though, now he thought about it, he did usually just refer to you by name. and it had taken him a little while to break out of the habit of calling you his partner, so maybe that's what he had introduced you as. shit, had he really not told them you were married?

"i- you know what, let me turn on my camera. (Y/N)!"

soft footsteps, and then you poked your head into the bedroom.

"what's up, kin?"

"c'mere," he beckoned, arm snaking around your waist when you reached his chair. you noticed the camera was on, and gave a shy wave, never having shown your face to his online friends before, "so, uhh. apparently i never told them we're married."

you could hear the guffaws and teasing through the headset, no doubt laughing about how he's gonna be in the doghouse for this one. but once his sheepish words finally processed in your mind, all you could do was look at him and laugh, first in disbelief before it turned into full, chest-aching laughter.

"you what??" you managed, resting your forehead in his hair as you continued to laugh, "how on earth did you manage that?"

"i honestly don't know," he responded, beginning to laugh with you. in his ear, his teammates were chuckling about how he was lucky to have such a forgiving spouse, but he was more focused on your body pressed against his side and your infectious laugh as you extracted yourself from his hair to look down at him with a bemused smile. he just knew he was never going to hear the end of this, but that adoring gleam in your eyes had him as besotted as he had been approximately two years and eleven months ago.

"well, guys," you turned to face his grainy camera, your face next to kinich's to speak into his mic. you held your hand up, proudly flashing your wedding band, "believe it or not, the rumours are true. kinich is my husband."

you didn't catch the lovestruck look he was sending you, but through his headset, you just about caught someone calling him a simp.

modern au gamer kinich always has my heart. wc: 493

[krakenartificer]

Leverage AU where Nate does go into the priesthood … but still ends up doing the same thing.

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned.”

“Go on.”

“I knocked over a liquor store.”

“And why did you do that?”

“Well my mom’s sick. We can’t afford the pain medication, and I know alcohol is a bad pain reliever, but I don’t know how to break into a pharmacy, so …”

“OK, my son, what we’re going to do is, we’re going to get your mom her medicine. But I’m going to need your help. I need you to call the health insurance company, and tell them —“

“Is… is this my penance?”

“Uh yeah. Sure. Penance. Yeah.”

[streetsweepershenanigans]

Out of all the '86 flyboys who became like uncles to little Bradley, it wasn't Mav, it wasn't Slider, it wasn't even Wolf or Wood- who taught him his first swear word, it was Ice He'd done it with his nieces and nephews and little cousins before, so why would Bradley be any different? Of course, he figured one of the others would have beat him to it, but the shocked and speechless look on Maverick's face told him otherwise.

When no one had been looking, he'd quietly beckoned Bradley over with a "Hey, baby Goose, com'ere." When Bradley's little voice had proudly chirped "fuck" over the dinner table, Maverick had immediately choked on his food and dropped his fork while Carole immediately burst out in laughter so contagious, Ice couldn't help but catch on. Mav's pale face and shocked expression only making the situation funnier.

"Carol, I swear- I didn't- I never-" Maverick rushed to defend himself.

"Oh honey, I know. And I know I didn't, which means," Carol turned on Ice then, and damn. He didn't think of that. He figured Maverick would've already pulled the stunt. "Mr. Goody two-shoes, Thomas 'Iceman' Kazansky, is the first person to teach my son a swear word." Carol cackled while pointing and accusing finger at him.

"Ice-" Maverick implored in disbelief.

"Well, I figured-" Ice gestured over to Maverick while struggling to conceal his grin.

The conversation turned from their to all three adult coaching little Bradley on how, yes- that is a word, and no, it's not a very nice one that should ever be used, all while desperately trying to suppress their laughter.

However it was Ice who would suffer the unforseen consequences of his little prank, as over the years, neither Maverick nor Bradley- now proudly Rooster, would ever let him forget that it was Admiral Thomas "Iceman" Kazansky, Commander of the Pacific Fleet who had taught him his first swear word.

[noyzinerd]

Derek's Journey Into House Husbandry

Listen, Derek's inheritance was $117 million, same as Peter's. Derek's childhood was spent in a multimillion dollar mansion, with his multimillion dollar family, and he's had an affinity for expensive muscle cars. Then, all the places he lived in after the fire were decrepit safety hazards.

What I'm saying is this boy was a pampered little rich kid for most of his life before living as a hobo for the rest of it.

I like to think that for the first few months of Stiles and Derek living together, Stiles learns very quickly that Derek isn't exactly well-acquainted with "middle-class living".

Just imagine:

When Stiles gets home from work, he asks if Derek could start boiling two cups of water so that Stiles can make rice for dinner after he takes a shower. To which, Derek says "Um...sure."

However, once Stiles finishes and comes to the kitchen, he's met with this:

So, okay, that's on Stiles. Sure, he noticed Derek ordered food a lot and ate out constantly, but it had never occurred to him that he was literally living on takeout because he could afford to. The only reason he wasn't right now was because Stiles had cracked down on takeout (Stiles still had to stay relatively healthy for his job, afterall).

Unfortunately for Stiles, this isn't a one off.

When it's time to tidy up the place a little bit, Stiles tells Derek that he'll vacuum the carpet if Derek will sweep the hardwood.

Unbeknownst to Stiles, Derek hasn't ever needed to sweep before. So, about a half hour later, Stiles checks in, and Derek is just-

sweeping side-to-side, kicking up dust in the air and just spreading it to different areas of the room like a cartoon character because he doesn't know that you're supposed to use the broom to gather the dust into a centralized area (the dust pan) to be thrown away.

But Stiles doesn't have it in him to find it anything other than endearing. It's hard not to when Derek is so fucking earnest. He wants to be helpful. He wants to know how to take care of a house of his very own. Fortunately, Derek's eager to learn and a very quick study.

He learns that dish soap does NOT go in the dishwasher. He learns about the difference between laundry detergent and fabric softener, about emptying the lint trap, about changing the A/C filter, about ironing, about all the vacuum attachments and how to change the bag.

And every time Derek succeeds a little bit at adulting, Stiles sees this spark of joy and sense of accomplishment that is absolutely adorable.

It's not long before Derek takes to being a house husband like a fish to water. Which, honestly? Suits him. It isn't unusual nowadays to find Derek baking bread and watching telenovelas while Stiles is at work, or comparing cantaloupes at the grocery store in a cable knit cardigan and sweat pants.

Watching Derek do a little fist pump to himself every time he earns gas points on his rewards card at the grocery store makes Stiles want to melt into the floor.

[rowanthestrange]

Oh god I know what we need in the next companion.

A compulsive liar.

I don’t mean like Clara, I mean like that one friend you had when you were six. A born con artist, who maybe even tries not to, but it just slips out. Someone who learns the Doctor’s beliefs physically change reality because whatever the Doctor believes about them is now true.

They tell the Doctor they’ve been a sprinter since they were nine and they were running for the school at eleven, county at thirteen, and they were on track to go to the olympics but decided at the last minute focussing on their A-levels was more important, but they can still sprint at over 24 miles per hour so they’re gonna be able to outrun the crashing ship that’s heading right towards them no problem.

And they do.

[chxrryhxrt]

The library - Lucius Malfoy x Female Reader

Synopsis: You have a slight crush Lucius Malfoy, finding yourself easily flustered whenever he is near. When this starts to bring you unwanted attention, who will stand up for you?

Warnings: none, just slight angst and fluffy stuff at the end

This is just a short little one-shot that I wrote a few years back for my first request. I posted it on my old account but am just in the process of moving all my work over here!

Sighing, you flicked through the charms book laid out in front of you, landing on page 83. You shuffled through a few more pages and paused, frowning down at it.

“This is the right page, isn’t it?” you asked, turning the textbook to show your friend, “Because I could’ve sworn Binns said revision for muffliato was on this page, not self-defense charms.”

Glancing up at you, her eyebrows scrunched together as she reached out to pick up the book, bringing it closer to her bespectacled face, inspecting it. 

“Y/n, this is the wrong textbook, you absolute billywig. We’re doing standard charms, this,” she stated, waving the book in your face, “is an introduction to charms book.”

“Oh Merlin, how did I manage that?”

She snorted, “They do look pretty similar I guess, except the one you want is almost twice the size.”

You looked away and laughed dryly, taking the book back, “It’s an easier mistake to make than you’d think. I’m going to go find the other one, I’ll be back in a bit.”

You untucked your chair from the table, trudging through the towers of bookshelves to the section where you had gotten the previous book. Sliding it back into the shelf, you stared around at the masses of similar-looking novels - all worn down shades of brown and thoroughly used. Who on earth thought it was a good idea to make them look practically identical?

After scouring almost every shelf for what felt like hours, you gave up, deciding to ask the librarian if they knew where to find it before the library closed up - which on reflection - you should've done in the first place. Hastily, you raced off around the corner, sending piles of books flying. Without this book, there was no way you’d be able to revise for your upcoming exams, let alone pass them.

As you approached the entrance, you saw a girl from your charms class, Beth, deep in conversation with Lucius; the boy you were absolutely head over heels for. With his smooth blonde hair and shimmering blue eyes, you couldn't be blamed - almost any girl would give up their soul for a chance with him.

You noticed that he happened to be holding a copy of 'Standard charms and spells' - exactly what you had been searching for. Hesitantly, you began to walk up to them, your heels scuffing the stone floor with each step and heart knocking against your ribs.

When you got closer, he turned to look at you, a small smile forming.

"Hi, Lucius," you started, fiddling with your fingers, twisting them into strange positions, "I noticed that you have the charms book I've been looking for, and I was just,  uh, wondering if I could maybe, like, borrow it?" As he opened his mouth to reply, you spluttered out a mess of words, which sounded somewhat like an apology for interrupting his prior conversation. At that, there was a subtle flash of an obscure emotion across his features. You felt fairly confident that it was pity.

"Oh, no please don't apologise, I was actually just coming to put it back, but," he paused, his eyes flicking to look at Beth briefly, "I bumped into Beth an-"

"And he's said he's giving the book to me, but don't stress yourself, he wouldn't have given it to someone like you, even if you’d asked before me."

You flinched slightly at the sudden abrasive tone, bottom lip tucking between your teeth as your body froze up.

You stared at both of them for a moment, then scurried away back to where you'd been sat before.

As you retreated, you felt a pair of eyes on your back, no doubt judging you. Thoughts clouded your mind in embarrassment, what if Lucius found that funny? What if they are both doubled over behind you, laughing? You tried tirelessly to shake these worries from your mind as you headed back to the comfort of your friend.

When you got to the table, it seemed as though your friend had left already, as all her stuff was packed up and gone, but honestly you couldn't be mad at her, you had been gone for at least an hour.

So, you started grabbing all your stuff: your quill, parchment, inkpot and wand, and shoved them all into your satchel hurriedly.

You went to turn and sling your bag over your shoulder but found Beth standing behind you, in your way.

"Sorry, Beth, I really have to go, can you move over a bit?" you asked, chewing the side of your cheek.

"It's really obvious you know." she claimed, staring you dead in the eyes.

"What?"

"You always blush and stutter when he talks to you. It's not like he's interested in you, you know? He's a Malfoy, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You're nowhere near as respected as him. In fact, hardly anyone even knows who you are."

With every word, your eyes glossed over more and more, tears welling up, on the verge of pouring down your face. You couldn't think of anything to say, she was right and that was what hurt, Lucius would never be interested in you.

Beth stepped towards you, trapping you between the table and her body.

"Just the other day, I heard him talking about you, I'm only saying this because thought you deserve to know. But he said that you're nothing but a desperate wh-"

"Beth," A loud, assertive voice came from behind a bookshelf, revealing Lucius as he walked over to you both, "Step away from her now."

When she stayed put, he wasted no time in pulling his wand out and pointing it at her. "Move. now." He growled out, stepping forwards and pressing the wand to her neck.

Her breathing sped up and she said nothing, but moved backwards, freeing you from her grasp.

"Now leave us, and do not speak to her that way again," he said, moving to your side, "Do you understand me?"

She murmured a quick yes and snatched up her wand, sprinting out of the library.

Lucius turned to face you, expression full of regret, his hand coming up to gently stroke you cheek. "I am so so sorry, love. I would have helped you sooner, had I known she was going to do that."

"It's okay, but what she was saying, wa-"

He hushed you, cupping your jaw, "None of it was true, sweetheart. For the record, I can definitely like someone as perfect and as lovely as you. In fact, how could I not?"

You beamed, looking up at him and then at his lips, "Can I?"

"Of course you can,” He replied, placing his hand on the back of your head and pulling you slowly into a kiss.

He pulled away, pupils filled with adoration, his warm hand grasping yours, "Now, how about we go to the common room, and I help you with this charms work, hm?"

[madaboutmunson]

Corroded Coffin are rehearsing a new, extremely thrashy, purely instrumental song. 

Eddie said it didn't need words. They wouldn't do it justice. This was a song that should "Punch you through your chest, grab your spine and tear your skull right out," or at least that's what Eddie said it should do.

Eddie has already nailed the lead, and rhythm guitar parts, essentially thunderous, chugging, down-picked power chords, and a face-melting, ear-splitting solo that sounds like the guitar is howling in pain, screaming.

Gareth and Jeff try their best to replicate the beat Eddie is tapping out and the sounds he's making, and they match it precisely every time.

That's just what you had to get good at real fast when playing with Eddie. He might write down ideas and lyrics, but the music itself...forget about it.

"No. No. No!" Eddie throws himself backward over the empty beer crate in frustration. "Guys, I know it's not you. It's not right. I can't convey what is in my head. I just..." Eddie looks thoughtfully out of the garage, frowning slightly, trying to figure it out.

"How about me and Gareth put our thinking caps on and try to come up with a few things similar to what we already played," Jeff suggests brightly, turning back to Gareth on the kit, who already looks close to exhausted. They had been going at the song all afternoon.

Eddie leaps out of his seat, "What time is it?" he says with urgency looking intensely at Gareth.

"Time you gotta-" Gareth starts before getting cut off by Eddie running around and grabbing his wrist.

"Ok, ok!" Eddie runs into the house.

The band listens at the door.

"Henderson?...*mumbling*...Uh-huh...I just want your opinion on it...oh, I see...noooo, sorry my dude, I can't...oh, he can?...I guess...ok, cool, later" Even though Eddie had made the call to Dustin, his tone was like he was trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

The jangling of chains indicates Eddie is running back to the garage and everyone scrambles back to their original, casual positions.

Eddie bursts back through the door, a wicked grin on his face, "The answer is on the way. Just follow my lead. I need you to say absolutely nothing about it. Just listen and play, alright?"

The band nods. Everyone in Corroded Coffin had their turn to present songs to the band, and each had displayed their fair share of theatrics in rehearsal, so this kind of display wasn't unusual. But this was an Eddie epiphany, and these tended to be the most dramatic. Jeff and Gareth smile at one another knowingly. He had been working on his song since the hospital. He said it was inspired by something he saw when he was on the run.

"How about we take a break, huh?" Eddie says, producing a grocery bag of drinks and snacks for the band, "Take a short rest to max out HP before round 2, yeah?" Eddie unleashes his most charming smile, and of course, the band agrees, even though the practice had already overrun by about an hour.

Twenty minutes later, the familiar BMW rolls up on the driveway. 

Dustin stumbles out of the car in his hurry and rushes towards the band, "So let's hear it!" He's totally hyped about being chosen for an opinion on a Corroded Coffin song.

"Yeah, in a minute..." Eddie says, watching the car.

Steve Harrington emerges, nods a greeting at everyone, and the look on his face reads whatever it was, he was over it. He leans back on the hood of his car, arms folded, and waits, occasionally checking his nails or looking around with a bored expression.

Eddie puts down his guitar and walks into the house.

Dustin stands gobsmacked, gesturing with his hands at the spot Eddie was just standing in and turning around, looking completely lost, to the other band members for answers, but they only have shrugs.

Moments later, Eddie re-emerges, but he's sneaking up behind the car. Something in his hands. Some kind of rubber bat or something. He pulls back his arm and throws it at Steve with all his might.

Steve almost leaves his body for a second when this thing makes contact with the side of his face. He hurriedly grabs it and rips it apart. Eddie is standing there, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape.

Then, Steve looks into his hands and turns to Eddie, looking less than impressed. Eddie is snickering, no, he's giggling, and walking backwards into the garage as Steve berates him, hand on hip, accusing finger pointing at a grinning Eddie.

Eddie circles around the drum kit, Steve still pacing after him, and he grabs Gareth's hand and puts it to his chest.

Gareth smiles, "Oooooh, I'm gonna need the double kick pedal for this one" Jeff raises his eyebrows and rushes to get it for him, and sets it up while Gareth can't move.

Eddie is still grinning wildly as Steve lectures him on the dangers of scaring someone who has nearly died on numerous occasions.

Dustin still looks absolutely bewildered until Gareth's sticks smack the skins of his drums, and the double kick pedals against the bass drum start to drown Steve out, even though he's still trying to make himself heard.

"Oh fuck yeah!!" Eddie shouts, "That's fucking it" Jeff follows the rhythm on the bass and starts to move around the notes for the scale in the designated key.

"This is heavy as fuck!!" Dustin shouts, causing Steve to focus on him and his foul language, leaving Eddie free to grab his guitar.

As Eddie swings his sweetheart around into position, he drops into a low rock stance, dragging his plectrum along the strings as he and the rhythm guitar play their parts over the new bass and drums.

The whole band is headbanging in unison, as is Dustin, and Steve gives up, shakes his head, and goes back to leaning against his car, tapping his watch at Dustin.

As Eddie launches into the solo, he runs up to the BMW and leaps onto the hood of it, and makes the guitar squeal. Steve is absolutely not ok with this in any way, he's yelling and waving his arms around, but all it does is make Eddie point his guitar at him as he plays and sticks his tongue out of his mouth like a demon.

Eddie jumps back down once the solo is over, leaving Steve to frantically search his car for something to clean the hood with.

Dustin, a little dazed from all the headbanging, is jumping up and down with the band as the song comes to a close.

"That beast is going in the set list, my dudes!" Gareth gets up from his kit and makes his way over to the wall set list, "Er…what's it called, Eddie?"

Eddie looks a little nervous, "Oh…er…I don't know…I hadn't thought of one yet" Dustin sees him sneakily try to slide a notepad off the crate and onto the floor. Dustin grins and intercepts it, and runs out of Eddie's reach before he can grab it 

Dustin raises his eyebrows at the pad and giggles, "No title, huh? What about this right here at the top of all your notes? Looks like a title to me" Dustin pokes at the pad with a big smile on his face.

"Er…well…that's just when I've been doodling when I'm thinking," Eddie says, trying his best to look unbothered, but he is edging his way towards Dustin and the notepad.

Dustin laughs again, "So are you saying you were just deep in thought, wistfully looking into the distance, absentmindedly doodling, and this is what was on your mind?" Dustin takes a few steps away again, noticing Eddie's subtle approach.

"No, absolutely not that, I just meant…er…it's a working title…yeah, that's it. Yep." Eddie tries again, but the stress is starting to show on his face. His mouth is tense, and his eye twitches a little, "So, if you'd kindly give it back, Dustin!"

Realising there is a joke happening he isn't the butt of, Steve peers over Dustin's shoulder to read the pad. All he says is, "Huh." He shakes his head, puts a hand on his hip, and approaches Eddie.

Eddie looks like a deer in headlights as Steve reaches for the pen sticking out of his mass of hair and returns to Dustin and the pad.

Steve smiles big and laughs, shaking his head, and glances up at Eddie. as he puts pen to pad, Steve says, "Sleeve has two e's in the middle, you silly goose!"

Steve looks proud. Eddie has never looked more relieved, and everyone else is looking at Steve in shock.

"What? It's an easy spelling mistake to make. Anyway, I've fixed it now. You're welcome." Steve says, looking around the garage with wide eyes because not one of these little shits said thank you.

Eddie walks over and smiles smugly at Dustin, taking back his pad, "Yes, thank you very much, Harrington. None of these goons spotted it"

"Anytime, Munson," Steve claps his hands together at Dustin, "Henderson, come on, the game is gonna start soon."

As Dustin gets into the car, Eddie gives them a little dainty finger wave, the smug grin still on his face. 

He's never been more grateful to have forgotten to cross a t in his life.

This song when Corroded Coffin make it big

AO3 Link

[lizardlicks]

Momo surprise

“I’m a little worried about Momo,” Aang said to his friends as they gathered around the morning campfire and started preparing for their day. “He’s been acting kind of off lately.”

The lemur in question was fussily nosing around Aang's abandoned bedroll in tight circles. As the group of teens watched, he laid down in a curl, chirped unhappily then got up and resumed tugging and scratching at the bedding. “How can you tell?” Sokka asked. He was by no means a lemur behavior expert. To him all of Momo’s actions were strange. It was possible that Aang's Avatar-ness gave him some kind of spirit connection to flying lemurs. Unlikely, but still possible.

“He doesn’t have as much energy, even though he’s sleeping more.” Aang explained, frowning. “You don’t think he’s sick, do you?”

“Maybe it’s the climate?” Katara offered helpfully. She wasn’t a lemur expert either, but she and Sokka had struggled the first few weeks with adjusting to the Earth Kingdom’s warmer weather. As far as she or anybody else knew, Momo has lived his entire life in the towering, windswept peaks around the Southern Air Temple, so maybe the sudden change had affected him too, she reasoned. 

“It’s because you’ve been giving him too many treats,” Sokka told Aang matter-of-factly. Lemurs were outside of his wheelhouse, but he'd helped the older boys with conditioning the polar dogs for sled pulling every fall. Spoiled pups turned lazy and fat, a hard lesson to learn for the littler children who only wanted to express their love.

“You think so?” Aang looked contrite.

“Yup,” Sokka said as he reached to snag a piece of star berry off the board Katara was using to prepare their breakfast. He snatched his hand back with a squawk when she smacked him.

“He is looking a little pudgy, Aang,” Katara said without taking her eyes off the food. Poaching brothers were too wily to be given that kind of an opening.

“Monkey feathers. I just can’t resist him when he gives me The Eyes.”

“I know,” Katara agreed. “He’s weaponized his cuteness.” “You’re going to have to.” Sokka nimbly dodged a sister elbow, but he still didn’t quite manage to snag any tidbits from Katara’s pile of fruit. “It’s for his own good.”

Momo, apparently noticing he was being talked about, finally abandoned the bedding to perch on Katara’s knee. “No, bad lemur!” She snatched her cutting board up and held it over her head. “No more extras for you!”

Sokka whooped in victory as he snagged a slice of moon peach and popped it into his mouth before Katara could adjust her defenses. “You’re on a diet, mister,” he informed the lemur as he sucked the juice from his fingers.

Momo chittered and pinned his ears back.

“Sorry, buddy,” Aang said regretfully as he scooped Momo up and tucked him into the crook of his elbow. “I already gave you a big handful of lychee nuts when you woke me up, you’re gonna have to wait until lunch time for more food.”

Aang could never quite tell just how much human speech Momo understood, but the lemur appeared to grasp something about the situation. He curled his tail around and grasped it anxiously, cooing at Aang with all the force of The Eyes that one tiny flying mammal could muster.

Aang held strong. For all of three seconds. “Okay... well. Maybe a couple berries wouldn’t hurt?”

--------

“AAAAAANG!”

The young monk bolted upright in his bedroll at the sound of his name, startled out of a sound sleep. Sokka was loud. Loud and very upset.

“What!? What is it?” He blinked several times, then rubbed at his face, trying to get his eyes to focus on anything distinct before he realized the reason he couldn't see anything was because dawn was still hours away. The moon hung in the sky, a crescent barely thicker than a thumbnail, with no light to offer. Hedgegoosebumps broke out across his arms. Aang hugged himself as the night pressed in, suddenly no longer a sheltering veil, but full of hidden threat from enemies he couldn’t see. 

The sleeping lump to his right rustled and shifted as Katara sat up in her bed roll. “Sokka-haaah,” her voice stuttered, breaking off with a yawn. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? What’s wrong!?” Sokka was rapidly climbing in pitch with each repetition. “Why don’t you look at this situation and tell me, huh?”

“Uhh.” Aang squinted into the dark and tried to make sense of their camp. Appa was still peacefully snoring several yards away, completely oblivious to the sudden chaos. Katara was wiggling and shuffling her way out of her sleeping bag, growling unflattering things at Sokka under her breath, and Sokka. Sokka was standing in the middle of their sleeping circle. He looked like he was holding something, but Aang could not for the life of him see what it was.

“We can't see anything without light, Sokka,” Katara groused. She finally won her struggle with her sleeping roll and started patting around for her bag. “You couldn't have lit a fire before you started yelling loud enough to alert the Fire Lord himself?”

“Oh, gee, why didn't I think of that! Could it possibly be because I'm dealing with Aang's mess over here!?”

Aang didn't remember leaving a mess. In fact he'd been careful to pack up everything before turning in for the night just in case they had to make a quick getaway. A few too many lost supplies had trained him quickly.

“What are you talking about?” He asked while stretching, less alarmed now that he knew Sokka was just. Well, being Sokka. They weren't being attacked, there was no life or death situation he had to fight through in the pitch dark.

Katara, having retrieved some kindling from her pack, scooted over to their banked campfire and began to poke the coals awake. She had apparently given up any hope of going back to sleep until her brother was sorted out. Even Appa was starting to rumble awake with the commotion.

“You said Momo was a boy!” Sokka hissed. 

Aang. Blinked. “Yeah?” he said, uncertainty clouding his mind. He must still be dreaming, why would Sokka wake up the whole camp to debate their pet’s gender?

“Then explain this!” Sokka shoved his cupped hands out, away from the protective shield of his body, just as the fire flared with a pop and Katara's satisfied grunt.

Cradled in between his palms, fur still sodden and sticking, was the teeniest, tiniest lemur Aang had ever seen.

[lihhelsing]

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Stiles tried to keep a neutral face but the annoyance blooming on Derek’s expression was enough to make him pop a grin. 

“I hate you,” Derek said even though he didn’t mean it. Or at least Stiles hoped he didn’t mean it otherwise the fact that they were dating for almost a year now would be very weird. 

“But can I?” 

Derek huffed, “yes.”

“Do you think I’m cute?” 

Derek rolled his eyes and walked away before Stiles could stop him. 

-

“Can I ask you a question?” 

There was no smiling this time. No mischievous laughter alongside the question. The question so he could ask a question. The infinite loop of everything that scared Stiles.

Derek wouldn’t meet his eyes. Stiles knew why. Knew Derek’s girlfriend was close by, standing by the cheese table chatting with a friend as Stiles watched his heart beat outside of his body in the shape of a grumpy man. 

Stiles didn’t mean to bump into Derek like that. He had no idea Derek and whatshername would be there at the party. But looking back at it, he should’ve known. He should’ve felt the dread filling up his body as he made his way into the party hearing the telltale laugh of the man whose heart he’d broken.

“Yes,” Derek said, eyes glued on the floor.

“Are you happy?” 

Derek walked away, the silence of Stiles’ unanswered question almost too much to bear. 

-

“Can I-“

“Shut up,” Derek was looking ahead, hands wrapped around Stiles’ waist as if it was nothing. 

“But Derek I-“ 

“You’re drunk so you should keep your mouth shut.” 

Stiles had never in his life kept his mouth shut. Asking permission to ask a question, any question, was just an excuse to talk even more. To see the false annoyance on Derek’s face and know it was nothing more than pure affection. At least it was.

“I still have questions,” Stiles huffed. Maybe he really was drunk. 

“Of course you do.”

“You can’t stop me.” 

“Of course I can’t,” Derek replied, sounding more resigned than annoyed. 

Derek stopped moving and he propped Stiles’ body against a wall. The party was still in full swing outside this dark room and Stiles was feeling brave, especially with Derek’s hands around him. 

“Do you love her?”

Derek didn’t reply but it was like Stiles could feel him rolling his eyes.

“Stiles…” 

“Derek.” 

Derek sighed. “The answer is not what you think it is.”

Stiles frowned, confused. 

“Do you still wanna be with her?” 

“Fuck me.”

Stiles felt Derek’s grip tightening around his waist. Felt Derek take an impossible step closer until his chest was pressed against his. 

“Derek, can I-“

“Just ask the right question, Stiles.” 

Stiles’ head was spinning. He was definitely drunk and he didn’t even know there was a right question to be asked. He was just being annoying. Just trying to get Derek’s attention away from that girl and back to him. He had been scared, back then. Of how intense their relationship was. Of how his silly high school crush had become the man of his dreams right before his eyes. Of how everyone was always saying Derek and Stiles were a bad idea up until the moment Derek and Stiles started to seem like a good idea. A perfect one. 

Stiles had been scared of how serious everything felt all of a sudden.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Stiles wasn’t sure why that was the question that popped into his head. He wasn’t sure he was the right one and for a second he thought he was too drunk for this. He felt Derek’s hands leaving his waist and thought that was it. He was done for. 

But then Derek’s hands were cupping his face instead and Derek was close. Too close. 

“What do you think?” Derek asked. 

“Thought I was the one asking questions,” Stiles replied, delighted to see the roll of Derek’s eyes. That meant Derek had come back from his indifference to the affectionate annoyance. 

“She’s my cousin, Stiles.”

Stiles’ world tilted. Then went back to its rightful place. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Will you kiss me, then?” 

Derek huffed but he was smiling. He was pleased. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Stiles’. It was soft and chaste but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity everywhere on his body. Stiles let his hands wrap around Derek so he could pull him close. 

There were still too many questions he wanted to ask, but for now, he would keep his mouth busy with what really mattered. 

Written for the Spotify Wrapped challenge with the song Question...? by Taylor Swift for @bleedingoptimism (ily)

You can submit yours too!

[thebiscuiteternal]

Though she'd smiled and waved at Wei Ying as he'd left with her father, once the gate was closed, Jiang Yanli sighed and went looking for her brother.

The errands they were running were the sort of thing that a sect's head disciple should be learning to do, but there had been no reason for A-Cheng to not go along...

...Except for the fact that their mother and father had been arguing again earlier in the morning. And now would be arguing at dinner too, once their mother learned their father had left A-Cheng behind.

The cycle moved ever forward and yet nowhere at all.

She found Jiang Cheng shooting kites with an expression that just said 'concentration,' but a fervor that said 'upset.' The 'upset' part meant his shots weren't as straight as they could be, based on her prior observation, but when he had fired the last one, she clapped anyway.

Jiang Cheng jumped in surprise and turned, cheeks already pink from effort turning red from embarrassment. "Jiejie," he greeted in a mumble.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your practice, but I need some extra hands. Could you help me?"

It was a long-practiced routine. He squinted at her, then shrugged, trying to appear as if he wasn't relieved she had come looking this time, and went to gather his arrows from the target.

Once his gear was put away and he'd followed her to the auxilary kitchen where she liked to practice, she tied up her sleeves and then handed him a bowl with a mound of dough in it.

As she expected, he perked up a little. "We're having noodles tonight?"

"Mmhmm. Would you help me by kneading and cutting the dough while I start on the broth and meat?"

"Yeah!"

She'd found, back when she was first learning to cook and he was just getting old enough to decipher their parents' arguments, that giving him a task where he could quite literally beat his frustrations out without risking getting in trouble was the best way to keep him from bottling them up. Prepping dough had proven to be a particularly good outlet, and by using the auxilary kitchen, they could usually avoid their mother seeing him at it.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

Tha-thump.

Thump.

Looking over from the meat she'd been sliding, Jiang Yanli bit back a smile at the determination on Jiang Cheng's face as he pounded the dough into submission. "Almost ready to start cutting?"

"Just." Huff. Thump. "A little." Huff. Thump-thump. "More!"

She muffled a laugh with the back of her hand, "Okay, let me know when you need the knife and flour," she said, then turned back to her own tasks.

[xxgoldie]

lighter x reader, alcohol (lighter is drunk, nitro-fuel is alcoholic here), otherwise just pure fluff

thinking about lighter, stumbling up to you, the smell of nitro-fuel on his breath (and his shirt - he'd definitely spilled some on himself earlier, though with how unstable he was standing, you were hardly surprised). a bit of a party atmosphere had developed around steeltusk's bar tonight, and lighter had definitely had more than he should have. you had barely joined the gathering for a few minutes, relaxing a bit further from the bar, but as soon as he'd noticed you, he had made a (very wobbly) beeline for you.

"(Y/N)."

his hands went to your shoulder, using you to stabilise himself, even though his weight made you stumble a bit too.

"hi," you laughed, a rare sight to see the champion so discomposed, though he was looking into your eyes with a slightly nervewracking seriousness through those shades.

"we should get married."

it took you a couple beats to process his slurred words. heat rushed to your face, one you hoped, if someone noticed, you could blame on the one drink you'd had so far. you searched his face for the punchline, or any sort of elaboration. all you found was a similar searching - he was waiting for you to answer. he was almost pleading with his eyes, swaying a little from the alcohol - this was absurd.

"you are so drunk," was all you could muster, chuckling in disbelief. lighter collapsed against you, arms wrapping around your neck and head on your shoulder, and you swore you heard a very uncharacteristic whine leave his mouth.

"you don't want to marry me," he pouted - just how many drinks had burnice given him, that lighter lorenz, infamous red scarf of the sons of calydon, was pouting?

"hey, i didn't say that," you comforted him, instinctively petting his hair in a way he seemed to enjoy. and it wasn't a lie - it was something you had dreamed about several times, but... "i just feel like you've skipped a few steps here, you know? we're just friends, lighter. and you really are very drunk."

he picked himself up from your shoulder to look at you again, but he was so close this time, the tip of his nose barely an inch from yours, his full bodyweight still leaning on you. for the first time, you really realised the position the two of you were in, and so publicly, the crowded bar not far away. but you couldn't quite get yourself to focus on them, not when there was so little space between you, and his stupid handsome face took up your entire field of view. the musky scent of his cologne cut through the smell of nitro-fuel and it made your thoughts brain spin even more, so you waited for him to say something. you doubted you could come up with any more coherent thoughts.

"what's step one?" he said eventually. you frowned, not sure what he meant. "what?" "you said I skipped steps. what's step one?" "to marrying me??" "yeah."

once again, you had to pause to process. was this his weird, misguided, honestly really cute, way of confessing to you? there was no way - but there was a sincerity in his gaze that went past alcohol. the best answer would probably be 'ask me on a date when you're sober', but he was too pretty to be considering best answers, and your mouth moved faster than your brain did.

"probably this," you muttered, then pulled him forward by the scarf, closing the distance between you. even drunk, his reaction time was instantaneous - you were the one to initiate the kiss, but his hands were around your waist so quickly it surprised you, pulling you somehow even closer into him. it was clumsy but full of heat, and you could feel his mouth form a victorious grin against yours.

when you eventually pulled away, though, your gaze was immediately drawn away from his to the rest of the sons of calydon, who were whooping and cheering from the bar.

"yes! i told you it'd go well, lighter!" caesar called, shooting you a wink. Lighter only responded to her with a thumbs up, his head returning to rest on your shoulder again.

"did you tell him to do that?" you yelled back, head still reeling from the kiss.

"so what? neither of you were gonna take the leap sober," she replied, and you realised she wasn't behind his words - not intentionally, anyway.

"he proposed to me!"

a round of shocked laughter from the gang, except for lucy;

"he WHAT?"

i truly had no idea how to end this. but like. i love lighter so so much but i especially love him being dorky and down bad. wc: 757

[perciverthoughts]

It has not been a great morning.

First he’d been woken up at 4:30 in the morning by little Lizzie Truman, a tiny first year whose dorm mate had unfortunately contracted the stomach flu and was quite distraught about it. By the time he’d taken Emma to the hospital wing , vanished the mess she’d left behind, and tucked the other first years back into bed it was nearly 5:30 and he hadn’t seen the point of going back to sleep himself. Instead he’d intended to look over his herbology notes ahead of this morning’s test, but he spilled tea all over them and had to spend twenty minutes siphoning it off. Then, some fourth year boys had started fighting in the common room and he’d had to march them down to McGonagall’s office, which had made him late for breakfast, which meant he’d had to choose between having a shower or eating breakfast. Considering he’d spent his morning dealing with germy first years and fourth years who had yet to learn the wonders of deodorant, he’d opted for the former.

So now here he is, on his way towards the greenhouses with wet hair because he’s shite at drying charms, stomach growling, without even Penny to complain to because she’d opted to take an astronomy OWL instead of a herbology one. 

“Think fast Perce!”

Living with seven siblings, most of whom are obsessed with sports, is the only reason the sudden shout has him automatically reaching out to catch the small package from the air.

“Can’t take a test on an empty stomach,” Oliver Wood’s grin is as infectiously beautiful as ever as he passes him with a wink, “Good luck.”

He’s gone before Percy can even thank him, broad shoulders disappearing around the corner.

When he unwraps the package he finds two pieces of toast with raspberry jam and a small pile of bacon. His favourites.

Heart fluttering he inhales his breakfast, dusting crumbs from his hands as he enters the greenhouse.

Maybe it’s not such a bad morning after all.

[thatweirdguyinthebushes]

"Why do you trust him?" Jean finally asks.

"He... he saved my life," Kim responds. There is more, there is always more, board games and dancing and good shots, but it's the only thing he knows how to say.

"He's saved a lot of lives," Jean says heavily, tone implying that his own life was one of them. "When you're backed in a corner, when you're dying? Best partner you'll ever have."

He takes a long drag from his cigarette, then stubs it out. Kim feels almost offended by how much he leaves above the filter. He smokes his down to the stub.

Jean's face is not angry, not like it was. It is instead very deeply sad. He looks like a man in mourning.

"It's when you're not dying that's the problem. Harry's a fucking ace at dying. It's trying to live with him that'll kill you."

He doesn't give Kim time to respond. Before he can even open his mouth, Jean is gone.

[noyzinerd]

Sterek Rival Lawyers AU

It's A (Court) Date

Imagine, high-class, Ivy League, hot-shot, attorney Derek comes back from New York to the family firm to take over as partners with his sister after his parents decide to step down. He may not be on the level of his mother yet, but he's cut his teeth against Wall Street wolves and ruthless white-collar sharks. Derek's more than proved himself, so he just can't fathom these small criminal court cases his family is making him take "before he's truly ready" to be a part of the family business.

Enter in his first case. Right out the gate, the state assigned defense is, not only late to court, but also arrives in a flurry of limbs and papers, tripping all over himself, and profusely apologizing to the room as a whole. "Sorry! Sorry! Car trouble!"

The guy is out of breath, tie crooked and hair a mess. It makes Derek wrinkle his nose at the unprofessionalism and the blatant disrespect to everyone's valuable time.

The presiding judge, the Honorable Ms. Lydia Martin, only sighs a heavy sigh, as if this sight is nothing new, and says "Mr. Stilinski, I suggest you don't let it happen again."

Derek is honestly getting annoyed by how easy this is going to be. He could've been doing literally anything else right about now rather than being here going against a common rent-a-lawyer with some Podunk community-college degree. The opening statement for the defense is laughably inept. Full of nervous stuttering, backtracking, running tangents, and babbling. He's still apologizing, trying to assure the jury that he's just having an off-day today.

It's embarrassing to watch.

Nonetheless, Derek goes through the motions, practiced and poised. Examines all the evidence, presenting times and dates, prior arrest records, the works.

During this time, Mr. Stilinski is frantically (and VERY LOUDLY) flitting through a cartoonishly large stack of papers and whispering to his client. Derek has to fight to grit his teeth through his presentation.

Finally, it's time for Mr. Stilinski to cross-examine Derek's client and, unbeknownst to him, the beginning of Derek's long, long spiral of madness for the rest of his career.

"Judge Martin, I would like to move to have this case thrown out."

"Oh?" asks Judge Martin. For some reason, there's an amused smirk, almost fond, tugging at her lips "On what grounds?"

A giddy, almost manic, grin takes over the defense attorney's face just then. "On the grounds that the prosecution's client is full of bullshit."

The judge rolls her eyes and an exasperated "Stiles," slips from her lips, seemingly against her will. (Derek's not really surprised by the familiarity between the two of them. With how often state-assigned lawyers are called to the courtroom on small cases, it wouldn't be too big of a leap to suggest they might be chummy.)

"Respectfully, of course." Mr. Stilinski--er Stiles?--winks back at her.

"Objection. Your honor, this is ridiculous."

"Overruled. Make your point, Stilinski."

"Mr. Davis says he saw my client at 12:30 P.M., on August 4th, attempting to take his back-right hubcap outside his apartment. Mr. Davis' apartment complex at that time, on that particular day, would have cast a huge shadow over the back lot as evidenced by the gaudy sundial-art-installation outside the courthouse. Meanwhile, my client's picture, when taken in for questioning, has a sunburn on the entire right side of his face. This would corroborate Mr. Lyle's story of walking home alone, down the upper, unshaded side of Elmore Street, during one of the hottest days of the year, for an hour straight. Also, the fact that Mr. Davis has no realistic idea how long it would actually take a person to steal a hubcap should be evidence enough."

"Uh-huh. And this wouldn't happen to be something you've ever had any expertise in, would it, counsel?"

"I plead the 5th."

And just like that, Derek's case is thrown out so quick, he's still reeling about it all the way home.

For the next two years, this becomes Derek's life. This man, this Stiles Stilinski, keeps showing up like a whirlwind and absolutely puts him in his paces.

Stiles, as he insists Derek call him, is a powerhouse. Relentless and unstoppable. That mouth can filibuster for literal hours (which, for those unfamiliar, is when someone legally cannot be forced to give up their time on the floor as long as they can keep talking), that brain quick as a whip, with a hunger for research, a mastery of the English language svelte enough to trip up even the most well-rehearsed lie, and an attention to detail like nothing Derek has ever witnessed before. It's like he knows every law inside and out. Lives it. Breathes it. It's like he had been raised on the law his whole life. Not only that, it's like Stiles enjoys it. Every case is a new game to get excited about.

All of it makes Derek's blood boil.

However, it's not always about losing to Stiles all the time, because, honestly, that might be less humiliating.

In truth, when faced against Stiles, Derek's bound to win about 60% of the time. Out of that 60%, only 5% of those wins actually feel earned. As for the other 55%?

He knows Stiles is letting him win.

Derek can't prove it, but he knows the asshole is holding back on purpose nearly half the time. Knowing that Stiles could have beaten him if he wanted to, but didn't, is somehow more frustrating than just losing.

He hates Stiles.

He hates that the guy is so chipper and playful all the damn time. He hates that Stiles could probably work at any firm he wanted, could make enough money to get a decent car that doesn't shit out all the time, could buy a proper-fitting suit, but instead CHOOSES to stay here "watching out for the little guy", as he so put it.

He hates that facing Stiles in court is the most challenged, the most motivated he's ever felt in his entire life. He hates that Stiles brings out in him the spark of passion and drive Derek had long thought had died. He hates that Stiles always tries to banter with him during recess or whenever they have to exchange evidence.

He hates finding out that Stiles only loses cases on purpose when his endless amounts of research points to the defendant actually being guilty of horrendous crimes, because Stiles is a good fucking person.

He hates Stiles' constant teasing and he hates that Stiles is somehow able to bring Derek down to his childish level to tease back. He hates how much he looks forward to court-dates with Stiles now. He hates being invited out by Stiles over and over to grab a bite together after a long day, as if Stiles hasn't been wiping the floor with him on this case for the last month. He hates it even more that he always accepts and that now they have their own designated booth at the diner across the street. Derek's so unbelievably frustrated, it makes him want to bite Stiles at the neck just to hear that smartass mouth squeal.

"Hey, I ever tell you I was thinking of quitting before you arrived?" Stiles asks one night as they're walking to their cars.

Derek's head immediately snaps to him at that. "What?"

Stiles smiles distantly at the thought. "Oh, yeah. Things had started feeling like being trapped in a cubicle, y'know? There wasn't any challenge in it anymore."

"What made you stay?"

"Well...you did. You were the first, serious competition I'd faced in a while. It wasn't a matter of winning just to win, anymore. Going against you always reminded me of the reason why it was important for me to win. It gave me stakes, because now there was an actual chance I could lose and an innocent person could go to jail. You, I don't know, kinda reignited my passion for fighting the good fight, I guess."

Derek can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. He wants to say 'You did the same for me!' He wants to tell Stiles that he didn't think his life could ever be this fun or happy or messy or chaotic or exhilarating or challenging or fulfilling before coming to Beacon Hills.

But just as Derek goes to open his mouth to sing Stiles' praises, he instead finds himself roughly shoving him up against the Camaro and biting hungrily at that mouth and tongue that's been the bane of his existence. There's a surprised little squeak that Derek quickly swallows up, but it isn't long before they're both tearing at each others' clothes and fucking each other dirty in the backseat of Derek's car.

What's crazy is, after they get together, nothing in their careers really changes. The only difference is now they get to fuck each others' brains out after an intense battle in court (and the sound Stiles makes when Derek bites him is exactly what he always imagined it would sound like). They still face against each other on opposite sides in court. They still give it everything they got, no conceding even if they are dating now. Not to mention, Derek wouldn't dream of tempting Stiles over to his firm. Not when he knows Stiles is at his best staying where he's at.

The day Derek's family finally decides it's time for him to take over the firm with Laura is the best day of his and Stiles' lives.

Not only does Derek tell them he's declining, he hires Stiles as his attorney to negotiate terms against his entire family of well-seasoned lawyers.

The entire month-long negotiation results in Derek, not saying a single word, but absolutely beaming as he watches his boyfriend run circles around his mother, his father, his uncle, and both of his sisters on contracts. It's so unbelievably hot, they're banging on whatever flat surface they can get their hands on every time they leave the boardroom. There's even one very memorable blowjob in the empty hall outside the boardroom when Stiles somehow manages to get Peter to agree to a (most likely illegal) clause dictating the firm will pay Stiles a finder's fee for any pro-bono case Stiles takes on outside of Beacon Hills that strikes his fancy.

And, no one says it, but they all know Derek definitely, 100%, dragged his own firm through this negotiation just to show off how incredible Stiles is to his family and preen about it.

--

Fast-forward, Derek is going to be in the audience for the first time for one of Stiles' cases.

While waiting in the hall, Derek sees a familiar face from his New York days. The prosecution has hired the eighth best lawyer money can get, Jackson Whittemore. He's sporting a Rolex, sunglasses indoors, and the face of someone who thinks he's above literally every other person in town.

Well, at least until he sees Derek.

For some reason, Jackson seems to think Derek is all the way out in the middle of nowhere to 'watch a master at work' (which...well...is technically true...).

As Derek goes to sit in the audience, Jackson tells him in passing, "This'll be over so fast, probably won't even get a chance to learn the other guy's name."

Derek chuckles and says back, "Ooh, buddy, you have no idea."

Before Jackson can think more on that, a whirlwind of limbs and papers suddenly hurls through the doors.

Derek sits back, gets comfy, and waits eagerly for the show to begin.

My first moodboard. Hope you enjoy. AU based on a discussion with @casually-eat-my-soul (I suggest checking out their version). This was kind of like a divergence from that (the brain juices just started flowing).

[jamscandraw]

how about a classic "theres only one bed" situation before they really got together?

“Oh. There’s only one bed.”

They both stared down at the single cot with its frayed blanket and rickety frame.

“Well, yeah,” Murph said. “You’re posing as a single traveller, of course they only gave you one bed.” They caught the look on Steve’s face and mistook it for discomfort. “It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Steve glanced around the room doubtfully. Tucked into the rafters of the tavern, there was barely room to turn in a circle let alone lie down on the floorboards.

“I’ll do it,” he offered. “I’m smaller.”

“I’m more used to it,” Murph argued back. Both of them were sidestepping the obvious solution with insistent fervour.

“Or… we could share,” Steve ventured meekly. “It’s just one night."

“Tight fit,” was all they said, eyes fixed on the little bed. A blush began to creep up Steve’s neck.

“I-I don’t mind. Besides, uh- I think it’s meant to rain tonight.” Murph’s ears flicked sharply at that. “I could… y’know. Use the company.”

Murph’s eyes darted to the window, the sky already growing dark, and back to the bed, almost too quick for Steve to notice.

“Fine,” they said after a long pause. “Just one night.”

-----

((I have written something on this theme before, although it's more like "there's only one sleeping bag" so go and read keep close, stay warm as well!! It's one of my fave fics I've written so far))

[agentlizardofowca]

For the fic ask game may I ask for ✄ DVD BONUS for Let's All Assume the Worst please and thank you and please 🙏

- TesIsAMess

Deleted scene for Let's all assume the worst.

Post credit scene with Lawrence, because I am in love with him.

Only cowards hide out in their rooms for more than a few hours. So, after a day of hiding out, Perry ventured back into the house. Making eye contact with anyone (except Phineas) was awkward, because they all looked at him like they knew his darkest secrets now.

Every time someone's eyes trailed to the vague remains of the bruises on his neck, Perry had a strong urge to rub at them.

The boys were in bed, Candace was playing the ducky m(o)mo-rpg in her bedroom, Linda was at after-dark-cooking-class (he still wasn't sure what that meant,) and Lawrence was chilling on the couch, watching whatever movie was playing on channel 5.

It couldn't be awkward between them, Perry would rather die than be awkward around Lawrence. So he pulled up his socks and sank into the couch beside him.

For twenty-three seconds they watched the movie in silence.

"Do you remember, when I said you could tell me everything?" Lawrence asked as he struggled himself into a less skewed position. He was halfway between lying down and leaning on his side. It was amazing because this pose did the impossible: Lawrence was perpetually chinless, but in this pose, he somehow had a double chin anyway.

Perry nodded as he recalled the exact moment Lawrence alluded to.

"And then you signed I can't tell you anything. I'm mute Lawrence, don't be rude." Lawrence grumbled in the deep voice he used to impersonate Perry, as Perry half-assed the same signs just like he'd done all those years ago.

Lawrence turned his head and looked at him with a lopsided smile. "I didn't mean it. Please don't tell me everything."

Perry chuckled a little and stuck his feet under Lawrence's back, just to bully him.

「There is so much you don't know,」 Perry signed with a smile that threatened to tell him more, even if he had no intentions of telling Lawrence about his recreational interests.

"Perry stop now, please."

「I was tied up just a few days ago.」 Not a lie, but context really made a big difference.

"Perry!" Lawrence repeated, this time more desperately.

「Nice and tight,」 Perry signed with snappy movement.

"Perry, please you're killing me."

With the heel of his socked foot, Perry pressed into Lawrence's thigh. 「I'm joking. But. We're both adults, right?」

"We are."

「So it's no big deal.」 Perry hoped this might end it.

"It kinda is when you walk around with a bruise like that."

Perry huffed, resettled so he could look at Lawrence directly, and leaned in close, almost menacingly.

「I did not pretend to be mute and deaf when you started dating again, for you to be this weird about this now.」 And Perry gestured at his neck.

On the other end of the couch, Lawrence was suddenly a little pale and a little sweaty. "You heard us?"

「Sure did Daddy.」

Lawrence groaned and sank into the couch cushions as if wanted them to swallow him as Perry barked out laughter like an elderly hyena.

They didn't hear the front door opening, so they were caught off guard when Linda's voice sounded behind them.

"Now what are you two laughing about?"

They both whipped their heads around in surprise. Perry recovered first, and he climbed up on the backrest of the couch to try and sign, but Lawrence was almost as quick, and he wrapped both hands around Perry's waist and pulled him backwards.

Perry was now unable to sign because his arms were helicoptered wildly to try and stay upright. When he failed, both men tumbled to the floor, where they lay in a giggling heap.

Near the front door, Linda sighed and mumbled "boys will be boys," in a fond voice. She let them be.

On the floor, the two men tried to stop laughing, but every time they made eye contact they started up again.

Eventually, they returned to the couch, had a drink, and fought over the remote.

Perry insisted they watch myth busters, but before the first episode ended he had fallen asleep on Lawrence's shoulder.

Things were no longer awkward.