#somehow i only stumble into absolute trash

[quetiapinnapark]

what amazes me about humanity is how a person who sounds nice and talks to you enthusiastically for a few days is always gonna fucking ghost you before you can even have a date so what's the fucking point of even trying anymore!!!

[vettelsvee]

THE MOMENT I KNEW | Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: After a few races where he didn't get the results he expected, Max decides to go out with some friends to disconnect from everything. Unluckily, one of those days when he arrives home after having some drinks, he finds out that he missed his girlfriend's birthday as soon as he sees the cake she ordered on the trash ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe something angsty?? Like maybe bro goes out with his friends and forgets readers bday until he sees the cake in the trash can and realizes bro screwed up

WORD COUNT: 2007

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of being drunk, angst

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: I've absolutely loved this one my God. With this fic, we mark a total of 6196 words written this week (not counting my uni essays and other several projects), so I'm quite proud about that! Also, thank you so much for the support all this week, hope you liked all the fics! I'll be uploading this upcoming week's posts tomorrow. Let me know in the comments or on the anon inbox your thoughts on this one! See you next week :) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Max stumbled into your apartment, fumbling with the keys and opening the door with trembling hands, his pounding headache reminding him that it wouldn’t be this bad if he’d listened to the bartender’s advice to stop after the last gin tonic.

As soon as he stepped inside, he froze in the doorway, scanning everything as if it were his first time entering the place, even though he had been living there for nearly five years, the last two with you. He took a few unsteady steps toward the small entryway counter, where he dropped his keys and realized the silence was far heavier than he had anticipated.

His laughter, faint and fueled by the false sense of security that alcohol had provided, quickly dissipated. Taking a cautious step further into the living room, he noticed there were no lights on, no plates or leftover food on the small coffee table in front of the TV, and most strikingly, you were neither sprawled out on the couch watching one of the romantic movies you adored nor curled up asleep with one of your cats.

Despite the glaring signs, Max didn’t panic, at least not as much as he should have, even though something inside him whispered that the situation didn’t sit right.

It wasn’t until he wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water and rounded the island that his foot stumbled slightly, nearly sending him sprawling to the floor. Puzzled, he looked down to see what had caused him to trip. His heart sank when his eyes landed on a discarded box, its lid broken as if it had been thrown to the floor, angrily, on purpose.

That’s when reality hit him like a freight train.

He turned his gaze to the left, where the trash can stood partially open. Inside, he saw an untouched cake, decorated with intricate floral designs and a message that read, “Happy Birthday, Y/N!” The sight struck him like a blow to the chest, the pressure so intense it made him want to vomit.

“No… No, it wasn’t today…” 

Desperately, and trying to figure out what to do, Max ran his hands through his hair, as if that might somehow help him calm down. His breathing grew more erratic with each passing second, his eyes glued to the cake. It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how he had managed to forget such an important date… you, his girlfriend’s, birthday. Something so obvious had suddenly spiraled into a waking nightmare.

He noticed his phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Grabbing it quickly, he checked for any missed calls or messages from you, only to realize after several failed attempts to turn it on that it was dead. He blamed his drunkenness not only for not noticing he didn’t have his phone with him or that it was out of battery, but for forgetting such a meaningful day and breaking every promise he had made to you.

Deep down, though, he knew all the excuses were hollow. Any justification he tried to offer would be nothing but foolishness.

Setting the phone back on the counter, he decided not to waste any more time. He headed toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, and though the lights were off, he could make out your silhouette lying on the bed, your back turned to him. You gave no sign that you had noticed his arrival. The only sound in the room was your muffled, quiet sobs. As Max stepped closer, he saw you were clutching a pillow tightly, as if it were your only source of comfort.

That was the moment Max realized he couldn’t avoid facing the situation, no matter how impossible it felt to fix things right away.

“Y/N...” he said softly.

You didn’t answer, and your silence hurt more than a thousand words could have. Max knelt beside the bed, close enough to reach out, and gently began stroking your face. You didn’t resist his touch, but your indifference pierced him deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. “I swear this wasn’t my intention… I wanted to come home earlier, but Lando insisted we stay a bit longer, and then I didn’t have my phone…”

“You forgot, Max,” you interrupted, your tone sharp but laced with pain, anger, and sadness. You still wouldn’t look at him. “Goddammit, Max, you forgot my fucking birthday ever since the moment the clock struck midnight.”

Max fell silent. Once again, reality hit him square in the face, forcing him to acknowledge that anything he said would likely be inadequate. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to find the words to explain himself calmly, to admit his mistakes while grappling with the weight of his guilt.  

“You know it wasn’t my intention,” he began, his voice low. “It’s just… with the shitty season I’ve been having and everything that comes with it, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just needed to step out of my comfort zone for a bit, to clear my head…”  

“And you thought doing that on my birthday, after promising me a dream day, was the most appropriate choice?” you cut him off, finally raising your head. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying. “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but I also know that until now, every promise you’ve made to me, you’ve kept. You didn’t just forget about me, Max. You left me here, alone, all day, like I didn’t matter at all.”  

Max searched desperately for a way to salvage the situation, to apologize, to do something, anything, to prove how deeply sorry he was. But when you turned on the light and sat up to face him, he realized he was out of options. He didn’t know how to continue without disappointing you further.  

“You know this has been really hard for me…”  

“Hard for you? Seriously?” you interrupted, leaning closer and pointing your finger at him. “And you think this has been easy for me? Watching you shut me out, never telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Not to mention your fans… They’re fully convinced that your shitty season is all my fault, that our relationship is ruining your career.”  

“Y/N, I know…”  

That was a lie. He didn’t know. Max had ignored the comments and criticism because, deep down, he believed you weren't to blame for his performance, especially when you rarely even went with him to the races anymore.  

“There’s nothing I can say to argue with you,” Max admitted. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a complete asshole today, and I’m truly sorry. I love you, Y/N, more than you know…”  

“Are you sure you love me?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you love me, or your damn career? Because lately, it feels like your whole world revolves even more around cars, races, speed, adrenaline, and your constant need to be the best at everything.”  

“Hey…” Max tried, his voice faltering.  

“Every day, you show me more and more that we’re no longer a team… that I’m no longer a part of you. And I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”  

Your words hit him like a dagger, but he knew he deserved them.  

“It’s not just about you forgetting my birthday today, Max. It’s everything. You don’t listen to me… you don’t give me anything, not even a minute of your day, let alone affection or support. Why should I stay in a relationship that, instead of giving me life, is killing me inside?”  

Your words struck him like a bucket of ice water.  

“You don’t get it, do you?” you asked, frustration and sadness mingling in your tone as he stayed silent. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be afraid to show me who you are, flaws and all. But you’ve always done this, Max, keeping me at arm’s length, never letting me into your life.”  

“I don’t do that, Y/N, it’s just that…” he began, summoning his courage to explain, but you cut him off once again.  

“Damn it, Max, yes, of course you do!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you realize that even though I’ve been with you, I’ve been completely alone? Alone, Max, utterly alone! I’ve tried so many times to talk to you, to make you see that a few bad races aren’t the end of the world for someone like you, but…”  

You stopped yourself abruptly, your throat aching and your head pounding. You felt no remorse for the way you were speaking to him since he deserved every word, but you couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness. Sadness for the Max Verstappen you had once known. A man who had been so proud of himself and his achievements after years of hard work, now emotionally shattered and, worse, so determined to hide it from everyone, including you.  

“I can’t keep giving you everything I have while you keep taking and taking, without giving anything back.”  

“I’m sorry…” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow.  

“A simple ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Max,” you replied, your voice quieter now but no less wounded. “I wish it were just about today, but like I said, I feel like you’re pushing me further out of your life with every passing day. You’re becoming a stranger to me, Max,” you admitted, trying not to let your voice waver. “You’ve been like this for months, and I don’t know what else to do to stop us from falling apart… though it feels like that’s exactly what you want.”  

“That’s not true,” he answered immediately, desperation in his voice. “Y/N, seriously, I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, tears welling up again. “Because I feel like you’re showing me the exact opposite.” Your voice trembled with the weight of her words. “Sometimes it feels like you love your career, the success you’ve achieved and the crowds chanting your name more than you love me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “You know I want to, but… I don’t know how to fix this anymore…”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some silent promise that would make you believe things between you could change. But Max’s words only made you realize that you had to stop thinking fantasies and start facing reality.

“Maybe you can’t fix it,” you confessed, the words breaking you from the inside. “I can’t keep going like this, Max… I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough… like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Seriously, there has to be a solution…” he pleaded, his voice full of regret. “I’ll do better from now on, I promise…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You turned to look at him, the pain evident in your expression. “Things won’t magically get better if you take me to dinner or buy me a million-dollar necklace to make up for today. That won’t fix anything, Max…”

“Y/N… Y/N, please… I need you…”

No matter how many times Max said those words, he knew that any promise he made now would be meaningless, especially considering how much he had already failed you.

Feeling that there were no more words left to say between them, you slowly got out of bed. You gathered the few belongings you had on the nightstand and, with a sense of finality, began to pack a bag, all the while feeling Max’s powerless gaze on you.

“I can’t keep waiting, Max,” you said, her voice steady despite the anguish inside. “Today, no matter how much I tried to turn a blind eye, let it go, and even put myself in your shoes… This… everything… after many tries… God, Max, all of this… That was the moment I knew.”

[mrpenguinpants]

You are all I long for, all I worship, and adore.

— It's strange seeing your future selves being so close when you thought you both hated each other guts.

— Jing Yuan, Dan Feng (& Dan Heng) + Sunday

[Masterlist]

Suspend your disbelief for the timeline of lore, please.

Update: When I originally wrote this, I wanted to do an entire "Fly Me to the Moon," series of fics based on time travel. Hence the title. Shout-out to that one person who was waiting for me to write Sunday. I didn't, but I see you. It will happen soon.

Jing Yuan

This is the worst. The absolute worst thing ever. In the entirety of your living long life, this is the absolute worst moment so far. Were all the good times leading up to this moment? Did the Aeon's have some sick agenda, or were you randomly selected to be messed with today? If you had the option of eating literal trash bags for the rest of your life or continuing to live in this moment, you'd rather chew your own arms off. Maybe if you start now, you can save your future self the pain and humiliation of succumbing to...whatever this is.

"Aw, you were so cute when you were younger,” you - at least you think it’s you. This stranger wears the same face as you although a bit older. Perhaps alien would be a more fitting name? - this stranger coos as they cup Jing Yuan's face in their hands. Pinching cheeks with barely any fat on them with the sweetest smile you never knew you could even make. Jing Yuan, one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights who stared down an actual Lord Ravager, looks two seconds away from bolting like a scared cat. He hasn’t moved an inch since this started and honestly, as mortifying as this is, it’s way worse for him than it is for you. So naturally, you’re turning a blind eye and holding Yangqing hostage from saving his precious general of sweet words and praises.

”I see we didn’t get along at this point in time,” a deep voice muses above you from a man you’re very blatantly pretending to ignore. An older Jing Yuan stands beside you, amused at his younger self having a barely contained stroke. If it wasn't bad enough that a future version of yourself suddenly appeared, Jing Yuan just had to follow. Always a nuisance no matter his age. Maybe if you hold your breath, you’ll pass out and everything will blow over. It sounds less painful than trying to eat yourself from the outside in any way. Before you can start, a hand, heavy yet somehow gentle, is placed on your shoulder. “I don’t recommend trying to self-induce a suffocation. Nor attempt any cannibalism on the self either.”

Okay. That’s creepy. Do senior citizens suddenly gain mind-reading powers? You’ve heard the story that if a man stays a virgin until he’s 30, he'll become a wizard. You let out a huff of amusement at that thought, maybe that’s what’s happening. That amusement gets cut short when you realize that somehow, you fell for this 30-year-old virgin. You refuse to accept that out of spite. That story was meant for short-life species anyway.

“For all intensive purposes, I’m choosing to believe this is a nightmare and the first step to waking up from one is to induce pain,” you answer blandly, your grip on Yanqing finally waning as the boy sprints in for the rescue. Only to get swept up in the storm as your other self switches her attention to the kid. Sticky fingers and starry eyes have Yanqing disarmed before he can even lift a finger to summon his ice sword, falling prey to the musing of a Xianzhou auntie. Nevertheless, Yanqing does his job correctly because it allows Jing Yuan to finally escape as he stumbles over to you and his other self.

"How far the mighty have fallen," you snicker behind your hand at how ruffled Jing Yuan looks. His hair is a bit fluffy from how many times your future self ran their hands through it, and his cheeks are a bit pink. Probably from all the pinching. There's even a deep chuckle next to you to accompany your words as Jing Yuan coughs into his fist before straightening up properly. You can see Yanqing being given sweets behind his back and that alone buys the kids complacency.

"My apologies for that," Jing Yuan says as the older Jing Yuan simply laughs in response. Unserious and unfretted in everything.

Huh, now that you look closer. He has laugh lines.

"It is I that should apologize. We have disturbed your schedule with our, ahem, compliments," Other Jing Yuan chuckles once again, as if the fact that he has time traveled into the past was a small "disturbance". Aeons, you hate this guy in every form.

They go back and forth, talking in that faux politeness that never truly goes anywhere before you finally had enough of this. You're not sticking around for this tea-time pleasantries any longer than you need to. It's the exact reason why you left your position as the "Divine Foresight Counselor" and passed it off to Qingzu as soon as you could. Unfortunately, you're going up against two Jing Yuan's, so the moment you shift your shoe to take a step back to remove yourself from the conversation, two pairs of golden eyes snap to you. One is smiling, the other is frowning.

"Heading off?"

"Where are you going?"

You look between the two, older and younger, and you can feel your head beginning to hurt. You let out a sigh, rubbing your forehead, before ultimately picking the lesser of two evils. If you have to look into those love-stricken soft eyes one more time, you might actually pass away.

"Out. You don't need me here anymore do you, General? Or do I require your dismissal now?" you ask bluntly, turning to the Jing Yuan you're used to. The one who's supposed to be in this timeline. "If you need anything, I'm sure Diviner Fu would love to be of assistance."

You don't bother to wait for Jing Yuan to say anything, pivoting on your heel and marching out of the Exalting Sanctum. You glance at your other self, a bitter feeling rising in your chest when they look at you disapprovingly. You can tell they want to say something but one brief look to the side, where the two Jing Yuans stand, and they close their mouth and turn around. Regardless, there's no reason for you to stick around longer. As long as the time travelers stay within the exalting sanctum, no one will know they ever appeared in the first place.

As you near the exiting doors, nodding to the guards on each side, you spare one last glance back. Your sudden departure hasn't halted anything and Jing Yuan is speaking to both his other self and you. Yanqing huddles close, one of his hands in your other self's hand, as he tries his best to participate in the discussion. Realistically, you should set aside your petty pride and march back to help. Do something other than running away and letting everyone else pick up the pieces for you. But the doors are already open and you need a sweet drink desperately.

There's been a growing sour taste on your tongue every time your Jing Yuan stares longingly at the other you.

Dan Feng

There isn't a single word to describe the situation you're in right now. Strange? Uncanny? Just super weird? You've seen and done a lot of weird things in your long life, but this is the absolute weirdest thing that has ever happened to you - and you've seen a star collapse before.

“If you keep making that expression, it’ll stick on your face,” Jing Yuan muffles his laugh under his hand, keeping up with your brisk pace as you not-so-subtly run away from the situation thrust into your hands. A tactical retreat you call it. You give Jing Yuan a pained grimace for a brief second before focusing straight ahead again.

“Jing Yuan, I will make sure your promotion to General is riddled with paperwork,” you say straight-faced. He knows you’re lying, you adore your pseudo-nephew too much to do that to him, but it does make him jolt and respectfully keep his mouth shut. However, in exchange, it makes the third pair of footsteps all the more louder. The source of your current predicament and Jing Yuan's amusement. You peer over your shoulder at the young man just to make absolutely sure that you're not hallucinating. A tall, slender young man with blue eyes, fair skin, and black hair stares right back at you before quickly averting his gaze back to the ground. Even with his unique coat and clothing, he has the splitting image of that old lizard. Even though this stranger is younger...and without a stick up his ass either.

He said his name was Dan Heng. A "traveling guard" for the renowned Astral Express. He had sworn on his life that he was telling the truth but that didn't change the fact of who he looked like. If Jing Yuan hadn't been there to vouch for him, then you would have attempted to throw him off the Luofu yourself. According to Jing Yuan, he found the young man "asleep" under one of the ginkgo trees, but otherwise wasn't doing any harm to anyone. He had just appeared with no way to return to where he came from.

At least you have one thing in common: you both don’t want to be here.

"So, are you a distant relative? Is this your first time visiting the Luofu? Oh! Are you here to visit him for vidyadhara business?" Jing Yuan spitballs one question after the other, his barely contained excitement shining through. He had slowed his pace to walk side-by-side with Dan Heng, illustrating the differences between them. Jing Yuan barely reaches Dan Heng's waist, the standard cloud knight uniform looking plain compared to the other's elaborate coat. Teal clashing with blue. Although, they match in their one red accessory flapping in the wind.

Dan Heng awkwardly coughs into his hand, before giving Jing Yuan a rather embarrassed look, "I don't think it'd be wise for me to say anything. If you have any questions, you should ask my teacher..."

Dan Heng shoots you a look as he says the word 'teacher', to which you raise an eyebrow right back. You've never seen this specific man in your life, let alone taken on any students. You don't even like kids that much unless their name is Jing Yuan and even, he isn't fully nestled in your heart. But that's another weird thing about this whole situation. This mysterious "teacher" apparently came along for the ride, yet the man won't spare a single detail about them. Vague descriptions that could be for anyone but wouldn't be a definite confirmation. All in all, it's been a headache and not something you wished to do on a bright and sunny morning. It's frankly out of your pay grade to be babysitting wandering travelers, even if they look like the High Elder.

“We’re here,” you call out, abruptly stopping your near sprint as you feel two bodies collide into your back. One has the decency to step back with an apology while the other clings to your arm as he peers around your waist.

"The forge?" Jing Yuan questions, tilting his head almost fully sideways as the three of you look up at the unassuming blacksmith shop.

"Yep, we're visiting the only adult of the group. Come on, Yingxing should still be inside," you say eyes forward but your arm reaches behind you to hold onto the retreating body of Dan Heng, who has been quietly trying to step away as soon as you confirmed just where you were. Jokes on him, you're the master of running away from your problems- retreating. You're the master at tactical retreating.

Although it’s muffled, you can hear some commotion going on inside. Maybe an unruly customer who didn’t read the fine print and is now venting their frustration? You share a look of confusion with Jing Yuan as you strong-arm Dan Heng into coming inside.

Entering the store, it looks relatively normal? There's nothing out of place or anything to show there was a scuffle, but the argument is getting louder sounding from the back of the store, into the forge. Which is strange for two reasons. Firstly, Yingxing may not be a dragon but he guards the forge with his life. Secondly, the only other people allowed in aren't even in the area. A mutual understanding passes through the three of you, Dan Heng finally giving up on trying to escape with the death grip you have on his arm, and you all tip-toe to the back door. Jing Yuan being the smallest reaches the door first, his head peeking out, your head above his as you squint into the room, and Dan Heng above yours with a look of defeat.

“You selfish old lizard! I’d outta cut your tail off right now for all the trouble you caused you senile son of a-“

"Please calm down, this is still the High Elder you're speaking to!"

What you see is something you'd never expect to see, and you need to reiterate that you've seen a literal star collapse. An older version of you is being held back by Yingxing as they throw threats and cusses at Dan Feng, who looks relatively unbothered by the promises to maim him.

“Teacher!”

Dan Heng, who has kept the most monotone voice imaginable since meeting him, suddenly pushes himself forward. A small "ah!" comes from Jing Yuan as he flops onto the floor from the sudden movement. A spear you've definitely seen before materializes in his hand as he goes to swing at Yingxing, only to be parried away by an identical spear. If you thought the tension between your first meeting with Dan Heng was rough, this feels like the Aeons themselves are fighting against each other. Yingxing and the other you have gone slack in surprise as two vidyadhara's who share the same face are kept at a standstill. Two cloud piercers pointed at each other, poised and ready to strike again, the air growing more humid with sticky beads of water vapor suspended in the air. Well, if you had any doubts about Dan Heng looking way too similar to Dan Feng, this pretty much confirms it. They're the same person.

Your eyes slide to the other you.

A falling star has nothing on this.

Sunday

There's something off about this entire situation, and there are enough oddities to begin with, but there's just something that doesn't sit right with you. Was there such a thing as a second puberty? Is that what a "mid-life" crisis was? Aren't you supposed to dye your hair and buy a sports car when that happens? Because the person walking next to you is certainly not you. They're too...peppy.

When you first saw the "future you", you had assumed they were a figment of someone's imagination. A dream perhaps? In Penacony, it would definitely be possible, but who would want to dream of you? The other you didn't seem that weird either, just a bit older and more well-mannered, but otherwise exactly the same. They had greeted you cheerfully, even coming up to shake your hand because "it was the polite thing to do when greeting friends.". You didn't know how to react to that wording so you brushed it aside. Maybe in the future, you're some big shot? That's kind of exciting to imagine.

"So...any idea how you got here?" you ask, turning to the other you. It's kind of funny that you're escorting yourself but you doubt the future you remember's the winding pathways the Bloodhounds take to the main base. Although your boss is quite nonchalant, Gallagher has always had a steady head on his shoulders. If you can't figure out a way to fix this time travel business, he can at least play damage control.

"I'm not entirely sure. I was about to set out to welcome some new friends on behalf of my husband, and then I was suddenly here. Oh, I hope he isn't upset with me for disappearing," your other self hums, a hand on their cheek, before quickly jolting up, "Ah, I guess I should say our husband now."

You let out an awkward laugh to match their giggle. Although your future self doesn't look that much older than you, it seems you managed to get hitched with someone great. They always seem to slip the word "husband" into every sentence, heck- you're making new friends because of him. Your mother would weep tears of joy learning that fact. Although it does make you curious just who your supposed husband is. The only man you see more than once in your life is Gallagher, and respectfully, he's not your type. But then who else? Perhaps one of the patrons? You've heard the news that the IPC sent a handsome gambler with beautiful eyes. Perhaps that's who you've fallen in love with? You don't want to ask because you don't want to mess up the timeline and frankly, you don't want to ruin the surprise. To be honest, even though you never thought about marriage, it kinda makes you giddy knowing that in the future, you seem to love your husband so much. A bit too much but it's probably the honeymoon phase train never stopping.

You still can't help but shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong.

There's just the slightest sinister curl in their smile. As if they're secretly laughing at the expense of everyone while keeping on an angelic facade. It's unsettling and makes chills down go your spine when it's your face that does it. The only time you've felt this sense of unease was when you accidentally stumbled into Gallagher's private meeting with the Head of the Oak Family. The Halovian had simply smiled, inquiring who you were and holding his hand out for you to shake. Your fingers had just brushed against his white glove when Gallagher stepped in, gripping your wrist hard enough for bruises, and forcibly pushed you out the door.

"Someone not important."

That's what your boss had said. You thought he spoke so harshly because he was pissed at you for possibly giving the Oak Family a bad first impression. He pretended it never happened and you never brought it up, afraid he might fire you from your job.

"I don't mean to pry, but are you alright?"

You blink, shaken out of your thoughts by your future self's question. They smile at you kindly, a slight tilt to their head as they wait for you to answer patiently.

"Oh! Sorry, I kinda spaced out there for a bit..." You let out an awkward laugh. Your voice sounds weak even to you, but the other you just nods in understanding. Perhaps it's because it's technically you that you're talking to, or that feeling of foreboding, that you feel like you need to explain yourself, "I guess I haven't been sleeping well. Gallagher has me running errands on the other side of Penacony in preparation for the Charmony Festival. Between you and me, I think he's dumping his errands on me so he can slack off."

Your lighthearted chuckle tapers off when the other you doesn't respond in kind to your joke. In fact, bringing up Gallagher's name has completely cleared their face from that prim and proper mask. Leaving behind a blank expression with disinterested eyes before a blink, and there's that same smile smeared on.

"You speak rather fondly of him. It seems I'm farther into the past than I originally thought," they mumble to themselves. Although you pick up on the words easily, you double-take just to make absolutely sure those words came from them. Sure, Gallagher isn't the most traditional-looking boss but he's not a bad person. Especially not to you. When you were looking for a job, he was the one to approach you out of the blue to work under him as a Bloodhound. If he never showed up, you would have most likely wasted away as a paper pusher for one of the families. He's always forgiven your mistakes and always offered to escort you home even though you can take care of yourself. So why is your future self so unfriendly to someone you currently hold in high regard?

"Oh uh...did something happen between us and Gallagher? I mean, I always suspected I'd get fired but I don't know, I always thought we got along. I mean, he has been acting a bit weird since that Oak Family Head came around but he's probably just stressed, right? Oh wait- I don't think we should be talking about this. I don't want to start a butterfly effect, especially so close to the festival-" you muse only to get interrupted.

"If I were you, I wouldn't trust that dog so easily," your other self spits with so much venom that you take a step away. Is it possible that you misjudged how close you were with Gallagher? Your other self talks about him as if he had betrayed them on a personal level. This shouldn't be possible because you and Gallagher have a strictly professional relationship. Unless you potentially knew him before you arrived in Penacony? To be fair, your memory gets a bit hazy looking back but you're sure you would remember someone like Gallagher.

"Wha- Hey, I don't know what happened but you shouldn't call him a dog-"

"We're here."

You stop in your tracks. What? We're here? You look up and realize that you've completely walked off the beaten path and happened upon a door. In fact, if you remember correctly, this was the door you stumbled into when you first met that Halovian. When did it become your other self escorting you rather than the other way around? You thought they wouldn't know these back alley pathways anymore.

"Why are we here?" you ask tentatively. Realistically, you know nothing bad will happen to you, at least not physically. You're their past. Whatever happens to you will affect them. A small scrape here will become a scar for them later.

"You haven't been sleeping well correct? I remember when I used to have headaches all the time. But you'll be okay now, he'll make things all better. While it's a bit early, I'm sure you'll understand. You are me after all," they smile sweetly, taking your hand in theirs as they pull you in front of the door.

"Come now, let's go meet our husband. He's been eagerly waiting for you for a long time."

---

Small author's note: I fell into a pit and wrote way too much. If I didn't cut it off, this fic would take another year to finish. That's why there's no real ending, lol.

[itsmiyamore]

— drunk (in the front of your car)

"With you I’m drunk in the back of the car" — Cruel Summer, Taylor Swift Part of the drunk (on you) miniseries

a/n: posting in celebration of The Dumpster Battle movie filling me up with life again and also my birthday coming up this week! Updated taglist form here <3

Sakusa Kiyoomi regrets every decision he's made that has led him up to this point.

He knew better than to get wasted at his team’s night out—he always was a lightweight; so how was he here now, trying to not put too much weight against you as you try to walk him to your car?

Maybe it's the alcohol hitting his system that's making him lightheaded, or maybe it's the scent of your shampoo. He gets the urge to bury his face in the crook of your neck and maybe stay there forever. Yeah, that would be nice, he thinks.

Then he gets the urge to throw up, and the next thing he feels is your warm hand rubbing his back as he pukes into a trash can. He hates the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth, scrunching up his face, momentarily forgetting the situation he’s in.

"Hey, Sakusa," you gently say, startling Sakusa back into his senses. His skin tingles where your hand still rests. "Sakusa?"

He looks up at you, and he's suddenly hyper-aware of how he probably looks like absolute dogshit right now. He doesn't really care though.

(He does.)

He must've murmured a response because you smile at him—god, you have absolutely no right to be doing this to him—and you say, "Are you feeling better?"

Keep talking, he wants to tell you. You're beautiful. I think I'm in love with you. But he just mutters, "Yeah I'm good."

He goes red when he stumbles a bit, the soft giggle that slips past your lips only deepening the shade. You help him into your car, then you lean over him and god, Sakusa thinks, he wants to kiss you so badly.

You're only buckling his seatbelt, but you’re too close and it’s too much, and then you're looking up at him and saying something, but he can't hear you over the thundering of his heart. He wonders if you can hear it; surely you can, because he's shaking as he looks into your concerned eyes. He glances down and sees your tongue quickly swipe over your bottom lip and that's it, he thinks.

You pull away before he can muster the courage to lean in.

His headache is back when the radio comes on full blast as you start the car, followed by your flustered apology. He tries not to stare out the window at the bright city lights, but it's hard when on his other side is the one person he can't handle being alone with. 

Not sober, at least.

(Nor drunk.)

At the next red light, you turn, reaching for something in the back. You twist back to the front, handing Sakusa a water bottle. He glances at it skeptically and you grin.

"It’s unopened, I just bought the pack earlier today."

He nods, thanking you, and as the car starts moving, you glance at him again, still grinning as your eyes meet.

He almost chokes on his water.

He doesn't even notice when the rain starts. Absent-mindedly, he watches a drop of water trickle down the window, then another, and another. Before long, the rain makes a thick gray curtain over the city; a loud crack of thunder startles Sakusa out of his reverie.

That, and the soft string of curses that slip out of your mouth.

He watches you as you mutter to yourself, not registering the fact that the turns you're making aren't the way to his apartment. You park somewhere, and you smile sheepishly at him, saying, "Hey, since it's raining pretty heavily right now, I hope you don't mind, but I brought you to my place. It was a lot closer."

And maybe it's the thoughts from earlier still swimming in Sakusa's mind, or maybe it's the way he can't say no to you that he somehow manages to say, "I'll be okay for the night."

(No he won’t.)

[wonderjanga]

combining people hitting on ace marvel with Billy having total control over the magical champion body, plus Billy having terrible conflict resolution skills on account of being a child and Solomon not having any answers regarding turning down someones affections. So if someone is hitting on marvel he escapes by acting like hes being attacked or cursed. The magical champion version of "uhh my shoes are untied... OVER THERE!" A person tries to kiss him and he just.

Marvel: *inching away from a lady who keeps coming near him and trying to kiss him*

Lady: “Oh you’re my hero!” *tries to kiss him again*

Marvel: *dodged and sees a nearby drain*

Billy then proceeded to do the only thing he could think of in that moment. Melt.

Marvel: “Ah… I’m melting! Ahhhhhh…” *terrible actor but is trying his best to sound like he’s in agony*

Lady: “Oh my God! Someone call an ambulance!”

Marvel: “NO no… no. Don’t do that.” *still melting and now trying to melt into the drain* “But yeah- Ah… I’m in so much pain!

Billy didn’t really like having to find a way out of the sewers. Nor did he like smelling like sewage after. But, it did get him out of that situation, so he’ll take it.

or

Marvel: *flying*

Lady: “Captain! Captain, could I have a word with you?”

Marvel: “Of course, miss! Is there a problem?”

Lady: “Not really.” *puts her hand on his chest and bats her lashes* “I just wanted to have a little chat-”

Marvel: *makes his own chest cave in away from her*

Lady: *stares for a solid sec* “OH MY GOD??”

She was absolutely horrified because she could literally hear his rib bones snap and he somehow didn’t flinch at all.

or

Marvel: *backed up against a wall in a lady’s apartment after he helped with a small house fire*

Lady: *tries to kiss him*

Marvel: *looks absolutely mortified and turns his head away*

The worst part in Billy’s opinion about that situation was that he couldn’t really escape. Like, he couldn’t let himself fly up because there was a roof and if he did, the rubble might fall on the lady and injure her. He can’t go down because they’re on the second story of a building and the rubble will land on the people down below. And he can’t go through a wall because there are other rooms full of people in the other rooms. So what does he do? He explodes. Literally. Not metaphorically.

Marvel: *literally lets his head explode into confetti*

Lady: *stares*

Marvel: *blindly feels around the room because he can’t see and stumbles over a bunch of stuff as he leaves*

He fell down the stairs multiple times, and ran into what he was pretty sure was a trash can. (He can’t be too sure considering he can’t hear or see) He ended up somehow getting to the street and wandering before a JL member came out of nowhere, was horrified, and made him sit down on a bench. As for how he knew it was a JL member, he literally let his hand palm their face so he could feel who it was. It was Flash. Anyways, he regrew his head.

Flash: *talking with someone on his comm* “Dude, I think Marvel was decapitated-”

JL member: *says something that Billy can’t hear*

Flash: “No, I don’t know how!

JL member: *says something else*

Flash: “No, he’s not dead. Somehow. He was walking around before I found him. I got him to sit down.”

Marvel: “Flash, who are you talking to?”

Flash: “Spooky.” *pauses and slowly looks over to him now registering Billy said something* “Wha- dude! You have head again!”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

Flash: “Jesus, man, you had me worried-” *looks back to his comm and speaks to it* “Cap just grew his head back.”

JL member(Now known as Batman): *says something else*

Flash: “I don’t know! It just grew back!”

Batman: *probably says something about how he expects a report or explanation or something*

Flash: “Yeah, yeah I’ll fill more details later.” *hangs up and looks over to Billy* “Dude. How did you get decapitated?” *sits down with him* “I thought you were supposed to be super durable like Supes.”

Marvel: “Oh uh… I blew my own head up.”

*silence*

Flash: “What?”

[violetmuses]

Forsaken - A. Aretas 🖤 ❤️‍🩹

Title: Forsaken - A. Aretas 🖤❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When death haunts South Beach, Armando Aretas isn't the only target lined up for known Detectives Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett.

Tag List: @nelo0wesker @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @probablyintensemuses @hyper-trash-panda 🏷

======

2020

Early sunlight greeted the Miami Harbor while you joined this roof with Armando Aretas. Brackish yet putrid air then reached your nostrils once more.

“You didn't wake me up.” You turned Armando away from his mounted laptop.

“We gotta go. Keep following the list.” His lips meet your touch this morning, and calloused palms gently smooth your knuckles.

Law enforcement officials pulling from the Miami Police Department had locked down Benito Aretas, Armando's late father.

In return, vengeance flamed through Isabel Aretas, Armando's mother.

An absolute storm would pull justice right back down.

______

Once Captain Howard perished, names dwindled even further.

Detective Mike Lowrey would spark with the crossfire last.

Mike Lowrey and his best friend, partner Marcus Burnett, ran down the neon streets as their own bet, laughing past moments while joyful together.

Cornered between shadows, you watch the scheme play in slow motion when Armando lurks that motorcycle and reveals his gun, shooting twice.

Detective Mike Lowrey stumbled, yet immediately fell back against sidewalk pavement.

When chaos erupts, you nearly smile as Armando revs out of sight.

The boogeyman is gone.

______

Several months later, an unexpected truth nearly struck down freedom.

Detective Mike Lowrey somehow pulled through recovery and survived Armando's wrath, almost bulletproof!

Given no other option, you pull the calvary with Armando and plan to take down Lowrey for good.

If unsuccessful this time around, Isabel would plot so much more than danger.

_______

This large-scale standoff pulled back and forth regarding Isabel Aretas. Extra members of the Miami Police Department interfered this evening.

“Don't shoot!” Armando shouts with slightly accented English. Heated fire and rubble engulfed the Aretas compound in all directions.

Veiling your presence despite bloodshed, Armando refuses to watch you die.

"La mataré!” Isabel vows to kill you while yelling in Spanish.

“No, I love her, mama!” Armando revealed this truth out of nowhere as flames pushed on.

You then freeze, shocked by Armando's confession as your steps nearly buckled. Yet, Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett still avoid your opportunity to faint.

Before everything collapsed, final gunshots pierced when Rita Secada armed herself and defeated Isabel.

At long last, each score landed Aretas directly into the burning flames.

“We gotta go!” Rita called out the AMMO squad over and over again.

“Don't leave her!” Armando shouts back, still terribly injured from this overdue battle.

“We're not leaving her behind, I promise. Let's go!” Mike interjected as fire raged all around and officers sprinted with Armando to escape death.

Miracles saved everyone that night.

******

Fluorescent lighting of the cold building captured various shadows this evening. Detective Mike Lowrey would visit Armando, his biological son.

“How you doing?” Mike fought one instance to smile.

“I've paid my debt. It's a big one.” Aretas sighed while marking the reality of his own dangerous choices.

“An opportunity might help cut down some of that debt. Are you interested?” Mike offered this important chance for Armando to redeem himself.

“Yeah, man.” Aretas nodded with confirmation and mentally counted down his upcoming future.

“One question, though.” Mike noted Armando's relationship with you. “Still looking for her?”

“Where is she?” Armando realizes the moment while his heart beats faster.

“In Miami. She'll join AMMO.” Mike promised your safety as he updated Armando.

Before Aretas could respond, visiting hours ended and Mike stepped out, leaving behind more questions than answers.

Sooner than later, Armando couldn't help worrying in silence.

Would I ever see you again?

[grayskies2525]

An Admirable Denial |M/M| Part 9

Word Count: 5,714

Link to all parts: An Admirable Denial (14 parts)

Content Warnings:

A very small injury happens at the beginning and there’s mention of blood, but it doesn’t get descriptive

Some homophobia toward the end. I don't go in-depth but it couldn't be avoided.

Some pretty heavy family toxicity stuff

When Connor wakes up the next morning, through bleary eyes, he sees Felix fast asleep next to him in bed. Connor ignores the congestion that has taken even firmer residence in his chest and sinuses, as he lets himself simply stare at his boyfriend. Felix is more an amalgam of blankets and sheets than an actual human being, but this is Felix’s typical state in the morning. Connor smiles at the comfort the familiarity brings, even as he resists shivering from his own body being only half-covered in blankets. No matter how many in-depth conversations they’ve had about this issue in the past — how Connor is also a person, and therefore, also gets cold, and would be quite appreciative of Felix at least making an attempt to share the covers — his words never seem to take. After a year in New York with all the blankets and covers he needed during the night, Connor can confidently say, having Felix next to him is undoubtedly worth the tradeoff. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Felix, in his typical mole-like fashion, manages to somehow burrow even more deeply into the covers. This, of course, results in more being taken away from Connor. Connor just sighs; he needs to get up anyway, since mornings with Felix demand having a full pot of coffee made before Felix wakes up. Connor’s always been amazed by Felix’s ability to prioritize coffee first thing in the morning over anything else — even using the bathroom. 

After putting on his glasses, Connor stands up — then instantly sits back down. Knowing full and well rooms aren’t supposed to spin, he figures he must definitely still be in the “horrendously and pitifully sick” phase of this flu. He closes his eyes, letting his head rest in his hands a moment before slowly standing up, grasping the nightstand in case he loses his balance. 

Connor never would have considered, prior to this week, the task of walking to the kitchen to be a task of Herculean proportions. Yet, here he is now, leaning against the refrigerator as he tries to catch his breath. He coughs, deeply and wetly into his arm. He feels that familiar tickle burgeoning in his sinuses that he's growing to detest.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance at his own body. He feels almost angry at it. If he has to feel so exhausted and weak, why does it also insist he have violent paroxyms that leaves him gasping for breath? 

“HH! Heeehhh!”

Connor stays slumped against the refrigerator, feeling his nose flare and chest heave desperately. His body seems to be making him work for the sneeze this morning, which is the absolute last thing he feels like doing. 

“HEEHHH! Hhhhhhhhh!”

His hitching breaths trigger a rough, wet fit of coughing. Watery-eyed and light-headed, he stumbles toward the trash can to dispel the unfortunate phlegmy misery his body decided to conjure during the fit.

Wrongly assuming his body must surely be done with its dramatics of the morning, he finally begins the actual process of making coffee. As he holds the water-filled carafe to dump into the machine, he suddenly lurches violently forward.

“HRRR’SHUUUHHH! HRRRR’SHOOOO! HRRGGG’SHUUH!”

The sneezes are loud, painful, and unfortunately productive. There is mess everywhere. There’s of course the mess that came from Connor’s own, beleaguered body that he attempts to manage by holding an arm across his face. But he’d also lost his grip on the carafe, which had fallen at exactly the wrong angle, resulting in shattered glass and water spread out along the floor.

He stands, trying to force his foggy thoughts to come together to devise a safe route out of the kitchen — one not resulting in stepping on glass shards. As is becoming a pattern, he has to cough first. He keeps coughing with his arm still placed firmly over his dripping face. 

He takes a shaky breath as the precursor to what he assumes will be another massive fit of coughing. His lungs, though, change course at the last second and he instead finds himself launching into another body-bending sneeze. 

“HAAAAAAAH-RRRSHUUUUUUH!”

Now, his face is even more of a mess than before and before he can even process how to navigate this situation, he’s thrown into yet another coughing fit. He has an odd moment of envy as he thinks about how if he had Felix’s small frame, instead of his own 6’4 one, then surely his body wouldn’t have the strength for such violence. He’s not actually sure if that line of thinking even makes sense, but the thought is there, nevertheless.

This is how Felix finds him — bent at the waist, coughing violently with glass shards surrounding him. Connor finally takes a clear breath as he sees Felix walking toward him.

“No! Felix, there’s glass!” he shouts through his raspy voice, but in his effort to prevent Felix from walking forward, he’d inadvertently taken a step forward, himself.

He lets out an expletive — which one, he couldn’t even say. All he knows is he just did something extremely stupid and has to vocally express as much. After reflexively pulling his foot up from the floor, he stumbles ungracefully toward a kitchen chair before finally dropping into it.

Felix, in his own uncharacteristic display of grace, manages to hurriedly maneuver across the water and glass covered floor without so much as a slip. 

Felix stoops down to the floor, frowning deeply, as he gently takes Connor’s foot in his hand without any hesitation. Connor grimaces, not from pain — he doesn’t think he pressed too firmly on the glass before his reflexes kicked in. But the entire situation — the disgusting state he’s in and the mess he’s created around himself — is the exact kind of nightmare scenario he’d never wish to be in in front of someone. 

“Okay, so, it’s not bad,” Felix says, looking up to meet Connor’s gaze, his face etched in concern despite his words. “I mean, there’s some blood, but it’s definitely not deep,” he says, attempting to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So no impromptu hospital trip is needed on this fine morning, I’m happy to say. But,” he starts, his face losing a bit of its obviously contrived composure. “I do, uh…  see a tiny sliver of glass in the cut.. But, it’s okay,” he says quickly. “Just stay put and I’ll get some tweezers, and Nurse Felix will have you fixed up as good as new, okay?”

Connor stares at his, eyes wide in alarm. Several memories flash before him all at once.

The one Thanksgiving they spent together with Felix’s family when Felix dropped the pumpkin pie, sending it to a premature demise. 

The time they were playing Jenga with Shauna and some of their other friends when Felix managed to knock over the entire tower with his elbow by accident, before he ever even got the chance to remove one of the blocks.

The time Felix was making chili and put a wooden spoon in the food processor while it was still on, resulting in little wooden shards being launched into the air like shrapnel.

“Felix, you are not coming near my wound,” Connor states firmly, as his mind continues conjuring up horrors from his past with Felix.

Felix rolls his eyes. “It’ll be fine. I’ll do a much better job than you could. You already look like you’re about to —”

Before Felix can complete his thought, Connor’s back to sneezing into his hoodie sleeve, which must be rapidly becoming something of a playground for his little flu germs. It was, predictably, another messy, productive sneeze. As involved as his nose was in the process, he’s surprised that his chest played a significant role in the sneeze too, causing it to hurt. Connor immediately is thrown into a coughing fit while he helplessly watches Felix navigate their kitchen, which now resembles more of a sea — a sea scattered with glass shards. The water that had spilled from the carafe is forming little streams between the cabinets and table legs. 

Felix comes back with multiple towels, as well as a first aid kit. Connor is glad to see the towels because they really need to get a handle on this water situation. He’s surprised to see that Felix isn’t immediately laying the towels down to soak up the mess, but is instead heading over to Connor.

Felix is holding out a towel, expectantly. Connor, still holding his arm over his wet face, tries to give an expression still conveying his confusion. 

Felix just rolls his eyes. “For your face, silly.”

Connor continues staring at Felix with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes. “You think I need a whole towel?” he asks, voice muffled by his arm. 

“Well, I was going to bring tissues, but couldn’t find them. And, uh, don’t be mad, but you look like you’ve got a situation going on that’s getting kind of unmanageable. So, I really think you should just take the towel, babe.”

Connor’s breath starts hitching again and he’s forced to let out even more sneezes into his soaked sleeve.

“Hmmp’SHOO! HMPH’SHUHHHH! HRR-mNGKXXchuuh!”

He, instinctively, reaches out his non-soaked arm to take the towel. He desperately takes off his glasses, tossing them on the table, then buries his face into the towel. What had at first seemed comically unnecessary, now seems rather suitable as he blows and blows and blows his nose. He also sneezes several more times for good measure. As reluctant as he is to admit it, tending to his own foot in the state he is now may not actually be in his best interest. 

After what has to be several minutes, he’s finally able to resurface from the depths of his towel. He sees Felix finally putting down some towels on the floor, careful of the glass. Connor wants to help, but he still has glass in his foot, and he’s also focused on the demanding task of breathing. His nose is stuffy, but not stuffy enough to prevent any air from going in and out. The tricky thing is that every breath he sends through his nose puts him on the cusp of another sneeze.

Felix continues cleaning. After minutes of literally just breathing, a surprisingly exhausting task, Connor’s apprehension from before returns when he sees Felix finally approach him with the first aid kit.

“Felix, I can do it my—” 

His body, as if to mock his attempt at independence, throws him into another wretched sneeze that soaks his towel. “EFFFKK’shuUUUH!”

“Oh, dear,” Felix says as Connor looks for a clean spot on his towel to blow his nose. “This flu is putting up quite the fight. I hate to say it, but, it really looks like it’s taking you down, babe.”

Connor glares at him, but to his surprise, doesn’t feel any actual discomfort at having his symptoms addressed by Felix. Felix has now seen Connor at his absolute worst, and to Connor’s amazement, he’s still here. Still smiling and being his same, silly self. Connor feels an itsy bitsy, miniscule glimmer of hope emerge. It actually may be possible for Connor to be… to be enough for Felix all on his own, without any pretense of having to maintain some sort of impossible perfection. 

Connor smiles at the thought. “No more ‘down’ than it took you,” he says, face still submerged in his towel. “I seem to recall you absolutely destroying one of Ben’s Christmas sweaters.”

Felix’s face contorts in such a clear expression of regret and disgust at the memory that Connor has to laugh, and then as a consequence for having any small amount of joy, he proceeds to cough up his lung.

Felix lowers himself to the floor, setting the kit next to him. “Yeah, so, I’ve decided next year, flu shots forever everyone. Me, you, and Ben. This has been nuts,” he says, as he opens up the kit.

Connor is still smiling from when Felix said “next year.” He feels warmth spread through him at the ease at which Felix speaks of the future, as though Connor is naturally included in it. The smile dissipates quickly, though, as Felix holds up the tweezers with a smile that Connor thinks is supposed to look confident. But, because it’s Felix, it just terrifies Connor.

Connor straightens up in the kitchen chair, feeling his heart begin to race. If this were anyone else, he’d feel much more at ease, but this is Felix. He sees Felix moving the tweezers toward Connor’s foot, but before he can even duck into his towel, he’s sneezing.

“HUUUH’PTSHOOoooOO!”

It’s a heavy sneeze that he sprays the air in a thick mist. In the kitchen lighting, he’s able to see the cloud of droplets expand out over Felix’s head. Connor’s cheeks burn.

“Felix, I am so sorry. Just, so, so sorry. I — I promise I didn’t mean to do that. I just… it was so fast.”

Felix looks up and smiles, an expression that feels incongruous given that he just got sneezed on.

“It’s okay, babe.”

Connor blinks. “It’s not… It’s most certainly not okay, Felix. I sneezed on you.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Yeah, exactly. You sneezed on me. The key word here being ‘you.’ So… no biggie,” he says with a shrug of his shoulder. “And, besides, I’m probably still immune to these germs anyway, so I promise there’s nothing to worry about,” he adds, his expression turning more serious as he notices Connor’s clear distress. “Now, relax, and let me get this glass out, so we can get you back to resting, okay?”

Connor groans, then sighs, trying to release some of his tension. “Fine, just… quickly. Before I inevitably sneeze all over the place again.” He thinks for a moment before adding, “Carefully. Quickly and carefully,” he says, shooting Felix a severe look.

“I’ve got you, babe,” Felix says, and by the twinkle in Felix’s eyes, Connor knows he’s about to be serenaded by the Sonny & Cher song.

And, sure enough — 

“They say we’re young and we don’t know,” Felix belts out, incredibly off-key.

“Felix, I am already miserable. Do you really have to make my ears suffer along with every other part of my body?”

Felix just smiles and laughs as he resumes playing nurse. Felix’s hands have a firm grasp on Connor’s foot, and Connor feels the tweezers make contact with his skin. He closes one eye, but can’t bring himself to close the other. Suddenly though, Felix is jerking to the side.

“HEH-NGK’T! N’gkt! N’Gkkkt!” He takes one more deep breath, then — “N’kxt!” 

Felix shakes his head like a dog, then gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that. I hadn’t had the chance yet  to get my normal morning sneezes out because someone was busy making a spectacle,” Felix teases.

“Okay, well, are they all out now? Because I really would hate for you to make any sudden movements while trying to get glass out of my foot,” Connor says, voice rising as panic sets in further the longer this situation goes on.

“Yep, they’re all out, I’m sure. I never have more than four,” he says with confidence. “And, calm down, it’s the smallest piece of glass I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, just do it already, then,” Connor says, hating the tremble in his voice.

Within seconds, Felix has the glass out. He immediately starts cleaning and bandaging the small cut. The whole process is only slightly painful. When finished, he looks up with a beaming smile. “I did it,” he says.

Despite the situation, Connor laughs. “Yeah, you did. I never doubted you.”

Felix rolls his eyes and stands, cupping Connor’s face before pressing the softest and sweetest kiss to the top of his head. “I never get to do this because you’re so tall,” he says into Connor’s hair, voice low and gentle. Then, he kisses Connor’s forehead, and Connor closes his eyes, savoring the touch.

“I think you might have a fever starting up,” Felix says, breaking Connor from his thoughts. Connor doesn’t feel particularly feverish. He feels… well, like shit. But that’s been pretty par for the course the past couple of days. “It’s early in the day, so let’s go ahead and get some Tylenol in you before you start feeling too bad, okay?”

Connor, with no hesitation, nods. Then he furrows his brows. He’s… He’s actually accepting care — for what has to be the first time in his life.

“Felix,” Connor starts, his voice rough, not just from sickness. “You know how much I regret leaving you, right?” he asks. “I mean, I know I’ve told you, but… I need you to truly understand how moronic and senseless that decision was okay? To think… to think I could do this, to think I could go through life without you,” he says, taking Felix’s hands in his. “I can’t, Felix. You make me feel like I… like I deserve to be loved,” he says swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I have never felt that way. And I don’t think I can ever stop hating myself for making you, of all people, feel like you weren’t enough when you are literally everything,” he finishes, looking up at Felix, whose eyes are suspiciously watery.

“All that just for getting a tiny piece of glass out of your foot?” Felix asks, his voice shaky.

Connor huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Just… you know I love you, right?” 

“Of course I know that, you idiot,” he says, but the fondness at which he says the term is clear.  “You’ve made that abundantly clear — what with Edna, and the snakes, and letting me dig around in your foot. The actual important question here is, do you believe me when I say I forgive you?” Felix’s eyes are searching, and Connor looks away. “No,” Felix says, tilting Connor’s head up.  “You don’t get to dictate what gets forgiven. I love you and I forgive you and I trust you. And it’s not because I’m some naive golden retriever or whatever idea it is you have of me. It’s because you deserve it. You might not believe me now, but that’s okay because one day you will,”  Felix says, voice firm and steady. Then his expression becomes lighter. “It’s fine if that day’s not today. Because today, you are on strict orders for bedrest.”

Connor swallows past yet another lump in his throat. “Is that so? And what credentials do you have, exactly, to make these orders?”

Felix furrows his brows and puts a hand on his hip, looking at Connor as though he said something ridiculous. “Did you miss the whole ‘Nurse Felix’ thing? I practically have a medical degree after the operation I performed.”

Connor laughs, which triggers a cough, which triggers a sneeze. This is how his life goes now, apparently. After blowing his nose into his towel, his energy is spent and he decides bedrest sounds like a phenomenal idea.

__________

Bedrest ends up actually being “couchrest,” but Felix has set the sectional up well with plenty of blankets, including the Frozen one. “What, you think I’m going to let a perfectly good blanket go to waste?” Felix had asked incredulously when Connor had questioned it. 

So now Connor is stretched out along the chaise part of the sectional, with his pink and purple blanket tucked snugly around himself. He has a box of tissues at his side, and several used ones already littering his lap. The lighting is dim and cozy, helping ease the dull ache in his head. Felix had picked up some coffee and breakfast for them, since Connor had broken their carafe. Connor asked Felix to pick him up some oatmeal with berries. Felix had rolled his eyes, said “Babe, you deserve a nice gooey cinnamon roll right now, not oatmeal,” and that was that.

Connor eats his cinnamon roll and can’t deny it brings substantially more comfort than oatmeal. He tried arguing with Felix about the importance of vitamins and nutrition when one’s unwell, but Felix was hearing none of it, stating simply that “sick people are already miserable enough without having to eat vitamins.” 

He’d suggested to Felix that Felix turn on whatever show he wanted to watch — that Connor wouldn’t be awake for long, anyway. Felix, though, was steadfast in his opinion that being sick is like having a birthday. Connor had, of course, questioned this nonsense. Felix explained that when it’s someone’s birthday, the day’s all about them — they get to pick what’s on TV, what to eat, where to eat, etc, and that it’s the same when you’re sick. Connor had met this explanation with what he thought to be a reasonable amount of uncertainty. “Just trust me, Connor,” Felix said. “You don’t know how these things work because you were never allowed to be sick.” And, well, Connor couldn’t argue with that logic.

So now they’re watching Star Wars. Connor’s seen all the movies millions of times, of course, but he’d almost swear the movies had some sort of healing properties.  Though, that could just be Felix, who is next to him, eating his own cinnamon roll.

After finishing breakfast, he feels himself being slowly lulled into sleep, but a ring of his phone stirs him out of it. He looks down at “Mom” being displayed across the screen. He feels his body go rigid as he continues staring at the phone. Felix must notice because he’s leaning over to look at the phone. Felix’s mouth forms a tight line as he realizes who it is. Felix has always had strong opinions concerning Connor’s mother. Connor appreciates his concern, but he also thinks Felix isn’t quite justified in how unyielding he is in his opinions. Connor doesn’t think his mom is that bad. She did continue talking to him, at least, when he came out as gay. His dad entirely ceased all communication with him.

“Put it on speaker,” Felix says, his voice hardening in a way it so rarely did. 

Taken aback by Felix’s tone, and also feeling anxiety creeping in as the phone continued ringing, Connor easily complies.

“Connor?” his mom answers.

“Uh, yes, Mom. It’s me,” he says, wincing as his voice cracks mid-sentence. Had his voice been this rough and congested all morning? He hadn’t noticed when talking to Felix, but now, with his mom on the other end, he feels the urge to make himself sound as normal as possible.

“Hello. We’ll need you at dinner tonight,” she states, as though the matter is already said and done. 

He pauses, rubbing his temples. “And, why do you need me at dinner tonight?” he asks.

“Because Brian is finally bringing his girlfriend to meet us. And we need you there.”

Connor stares at his lap as he contemplates now to navigate this conversation. He feels Felix take his hand. When he looks up, Felix is shaking his head, his brows furrowed.

 “I don’t understand why I’m needed,” Connor finally settles on saying.

This was obviously the wrong response because there’s a long pause. “He’s your brother, Connor,” she says in a clipped voice.

Felix squeezes Connor’s hand more tightly. Connor sighs, then coughs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tonight. I-I’m sick.” He’s proud he said the words with only a slight hesitation. 

Connor can practically see his mother’s eye roll. “Even if you were sick, that’s no excuse. This is family, Connor.” 

Again, Felix squeezes his hand even more tightly, and at this point, it’s becoming painful. Connor shoots Felix a look that he hopes conveys “knock it off.”

“I just, I think I have the flu. I should stay home today, I think. I can meet Brian’s girlfriend another time,” he says, feeling his composure start to waver. His throat is tightening and his heart is racing. 

His mother sighs. “If you do have the flu, you can take some over the counter medicine and come anyway. I didn’t raise you to let something so trivial keep you from doing something that needs to be done.”

At this, Felix makes a low noise that sounds almost like a growl. Connor shoots him a glare.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I really am sick and I can’t. I think I … I think I should just stay here and rest,” he says, feeling more ashamed than he’s ever felt before. He remembers the looks from his mother when he’d make any grade less than A in school and when he hadn’t gotten into his first pick for college. And, of course, when he told her he was gay. This, somehow, feels even worse — like telling her he’s sick is an admittance of failure. He can already feel words of concession trying to escape his lips — that he guesses if he needs to be there, he can make it for a couple of hours on some DayQuil. But Felix’s hand is still in his, and he feels another gentle squeeze.

So, he instead says “Why do I need to be there, anyway? I’m sure this girl couldn’t care less. Actually, I’m sure she’d prefer I keep my flu germs far away from her.”

“Connor,” his mother starts, voice severe. “You need to be there because you’re Brian’s family, and this is important to him. Now that your dad’s gone, you know you and I are all he has left. Do you really want him to feel like he has no support?” Connor feels his hands shaking, and before he can answer to tell her he’ll come to dinner just to keep this conversation from continuing, she keeps going. “Although, I guess it’s silly for me to ask, isn’t it? Of course you want him to feel that way. You’ve never really cared much for us, have you? You’re always trying to distance yourself as much as possible. You moved away for over a year because you think you’re too good for us, so you had to run off to New York over some overinflated sense of self-importance. You've been back for weeks now and still having bothered seeing us.  And when you were in New York, you barely made any effort to call. And when your dad was in the hospital… God, don’t even get me started on that,” she says with a wry laugh.

Connor’s breaths are shallow and coming out too quickly. He needs to cough, but he can’t — not when his mom can hear him. He has to remain composed. He needs to… he needs to just tell her he’ll come to the dinner. It’d be easier and less taxing than having this conversation. 

But before he can, Felix is taking the phone from his hand.

“Hi, Mrs. Hayes,” Felix says, voice stern and full of uncharacteristic self-assuredness. “This is Felix, your son’s boyfriend.” Before his mom can get even the smallest of words in, Felix continues. “Yes, yes, I know the word boyfriend is probably making you feel ill. I’m ever so sorry for that. But I just have to chime in and say, Connor didn’t come see your husband in the hospital because he wouldn’t let him. Surely you remember, even on his literal deathbed, he refused to let Connor see him on account of Connor being a — well, we’ll just let the word go unsaid for the sake of maintaining a modicum of civility. I just had to get that out there because Connor is too polite and, for some reason I can’t for the life of me understand, too terrified of you to speak up for himself,” Felix says, as Connor just watches in horror. His mother seems to be rendered speechless — an unusual occurrence. 

Connor tries reaching for the phone, but Felix keeps a firm grasp. 

“You don’t have the slightest clue of what you’re talking about,” Connor’s mom finally says, voice sharp. “And if Connor cared enough, he would’ve come anyway. He wouldn’t have let the words of a dying man stop him. Evan had been so ill and on so many drugs at the time. He can hardly be held accountable for anything he said,” she continues, and Connor is alarmed to hear a tremble in her voice.

Felix laughs, wryly. “Right, and the three years he spent completely ignoring any attempts Connor made to contact him? What’s your excuse for that, Mrs. Hayes?”

“Evan had morals. Something people like you don’t have any understanding of. He was a proud man with convictions that he held tightly onto, even at the end and he should be admired for that. He was stronger than I could ever be. Here I am, trying to still keep contact with Connor because he’s my son and I love him regardless of his sins, but it’s clear I’d be better off following in Evan’s footsteps because my efforts are obviously not appreciated.”

The words cause Connor to take a sharp intake of breath, and now he is coughing. He can’t hold them back any longer. They’re deep, wet, and unending. 

Felix rubs soothing circles along Connor’s back, but he’s still holding the phone firmly in his hand. “Oooh, I think that’s a delightful idea. Please do follow in those footsteps, Mrs. Hayes, and follow them quickly because I think Connor would be a lot better off.” Connor’s still desperately hacking into his wad of tissues. The coughing must trigger something in his sinuses because now he’s sneezing along with coughing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Felix says, continuing to rub Connor’s back. “I need to take care of your son because it’s about time someone does,” and with that he hangs up.

“Eck’SHooO! Hrrp’SHOOO! MMpff’SHUuuUUHH!”

Connor doesn’t think he’ll ever stop sneezing. Or coughing. He can’t even distinguish between the two because they’re falling on top of each other, keeping him stuck in a horrifying loop.

Felix never stops soothingly rubbing his back. His other hand is in Connor’s hair, gently running his fingers through it. He hears Felix whisper soft words of comfort — “It’s okay," and “It’ll end soon,” and “Just let them all out.” But Connor’s too preoccupied to respond.

Finally, after several minutes, he’s able to lean back into the couch. His entire body is trembling so hard that his teeth are chattering. He doesn’t know if it’s from his sickness or from the conversation with his mom. Felix takes the Frozen blanket, and tucks it tightly around Connor’s body. Seeing that Connor is still shaking uncontrollably, he grabs the orange knitted throw from the back of the couch, and does the same. 

“Baby,” Felix starts, sounding hesitant. “I’m so sorry. I know that was out of line. I just… you know how I feel about her, and … god, Connor, she’s just abhorrent. The things she says to you. And you just let her.” At this, Connor starts to shudder even harder — not from his sickness, or from anxiety-induced adrenaline, but from the sobbing he’s suddenly found himself overcome with.

“Oh god,” Felix says, voice shaking. “Oh my god, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should just shut up. I know I should just shut up but for some reason I just never fucking can be quiet when it’s most important and I… oh my god, just, come here,” Felix says, sounding desperate. Connor shifts down further, curling toward Felix, and Felix adjusts immediately, wrapping both arms around him. Connor rests his forehead against Felix’s shoulder, his taller frame bending to fit against Felix’s smaller one. Felix pulls him closer, his hand finding its way back to Connor’s hair, fingers threading through it gently.

“Shh,” Felix mumbles softly and soothingly, fingers still in Connor’s hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I know. I’ve got you. Just let it out. I love you, and I’m here, okay? No matter what. Just cry as much as you need to.” As if Connor needed the permission, he sobs harder, his shoulders shaking.

Connor’s afraid he’ll never stop — that now that he’s allowed himself to cry for the first time since childhood, he’s triggered something inside himself that won’t shut off.  Slowly, however, Connor’s sobs, that have also become mixed with coughs, do eventually begin to quiet, his breathing evening out as Felix continues to murmur comforting words. 

The weight of exhaustion settles in, and Felix stays right there, holding him, until Connor's trembling finally starts to ease. “I’m just so fucking tired,” Connor mumbles into Felix’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Felix softly hums. “That’s okay. It’s okay to be tired. You’re exhausted. How about you try to get some sleep? I’ll be right here. We can talk about… about all that when you wake up. If you want. But right now you are in serious need of some rest. So, just close your eyes, baby. I’ll still be here when they open.”

So, Connor does. With an amount of trust he never thought himself capable of possessing, he lets himself drift off with the knowledge that Felix will be there, just like he said. Felix’s steady presence is an anchor as Connor lets sleep pull him under.

Part 10

[dropthedemiurge]

It's funny how it already happened several times to me -

I love complicated and thoughtful shows. I love subtext and deep meaning and hidden details. I really struggle with silly comedy in BLs unless they do it thoughtfully and balance it well with meaning (bless you, shows like Be my Favorite)

I have nothing against silly romcoms but maybe I don't need them right now. I can't even watch We Are Series because I suffered in first episode :(

And yet! And yet sometimes I watch a show that I know technically isn't great or even if cinematography is bad but that show fills me with a lot of warmth and joy. Somehow I absolutely enjoy stumbling upon those weird anomalies. Somehow I lower my expectations based on how they present themselves and I enjoy the heck out of them till the end.

That's what happened to me with Twins the Series and now Boys Be Brave lol

And then I come on Tumblr, and everyone is trashing them xD

I guess I should not be surprised but I think genuinely I just see the potential and I'm content with having the rest of it in my head if the story at least shows where they were going with them and what they wanted to say. Instead, I'm filled with absolutely rage in the finale when the show poses itself like being meaningful and groundbreaking and then completely ruins their own messages and characters (looking at you, Only Friends)

This post doesn't mean anything, I'm just really curious why I don't particularly enjoy averagely-made stories but every once in a while I get truly happy watching one.

(putting this out of my tags - i had a funky thought about the dissonance, jinwoo x kiseob are living in a romcom world, meanwhile inho x balgeum live in a grey shelter world. No wonder we got the similar ending for them, right? Does anyone know what I mean?)

[specksizedgoddess]

after being accidentally flushed down the toilet by a neet girl (who can blame her, she was hungry, and do you keep track of every little piece of food you shit out?), you miraculously survive. congratulations! though, perhaps celebrations should be saved for later, as now you’re trapped in a sewer with a colony of slimegirls who wouldn’t dare let their newest toy just wander away.

the sewer smells bad already, but the inside of the slimegirls is even worse. the only water source they have is tainted with piss, shit, and whatever trash someone decides to flush down like an asshole, after all. the slimegirls have turned into a concentrated sludge of sewer water, essentially, but they still love to get up to all the normally pleasant slimegirl activities. i hope you enjoy your next few weeks of being passed around by them until one inevitably decides to keep you in her a little bit too long. at least you’ll give them some nice entertainment before then.

HGDHDHHFD GOSH<3

Already tainted and gross, stumbling and gasping for fresh air (well, however fresh the air CAN be down there...)... wandering aimlessly until I find them- all their eyes exitedly fixing on me, a slimy hand already darting down to snatch me up.... the scent absolutely unbearable... I think we'll get along VERY well...

So eager, too! Even with all the filth, I'm still moaning, desperate to serve- listening to them giggle and tease makes it all worth it... literally drowning in sewage every time one of them has their way with me...

God, just imagine... somehow, even amongst the garbage and vermin, I'm still the lowliest, most pathetic thing to get flushed down here~ on the bright side, my blushing, horny face will look so cute suspended in their disgusting bodies <3

[jackdup]

@howthesleeplesswander || plotted starter for rhysie cup! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

“So, uh . . . Yeah, like—? What made you decide to rebuild Atlas and not, uhm . . . I mean, you were a Hyperion guy for awhile, weren’t you?” And you’re making small talk, aren’t you, Timmy Boy? Attempting. Important distinction. We’re attempting, kiddos. Call yourself a friggin’ actor . . . God.

Look, Timothy had been in his fair share of awkward situations. He’d been the cause of about 90 percent of those situations, which was pretty freakin’ funny when you thought about it: Handsome Jack being “awkward” . . . But, well, something here was awkwarder than usual. Like some higher power had taken that dial and turned it all the way to one end and forced these two poor souls to figure their shit out while said higher power kicked back, made himself a bowl of popcorn—hey! Maybe even ordered an entire pizza . . .

Ugh. Tim didn’t want to think about pizza for the next year at least. Scratch that.

He fidgeted. He’d been doing a lot of that since the Vault Hunters left him here on Promethea. You know, kind of like he was some stray cat they found digging through the nearest dumpster who should have just been ignored, but they weren’t heartless enough to leave him and figured You know what? Let’s toss this pathetic pile of matted fur onto some other asshole’s lap and wash our hands, be done with it. Even in their company, Timothy had felt the tension in the air between him and Atlas’s CEO (who was incredibly attractive for a guy who probably just sat behind his desk and cackled maniacally at the expense of others, by the way—? Why didn’t the damn VHs feel the need to warn him?). Now that the two of them were alone . . . ? Tim wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both. Internally.

Externally, stumbling his way through a semi-normal conversation with probably the first semi-normal dude he’d met in what felt like centuries was the way to go.

“Stickin’ it to ‘The Man,’ or whatever?” Tim prodded after a pause. (“The Man” here very obviously meaning the jackhole everyone knew and the sane people hated at this point; Timothy didn’t need to spell that one out.) “God, sorry, I— I-I get it.”

Want to know the weird thing about losing a hand? It still somehow felt like it was there. Imagine the scenario: some disheveled, absolutely trashed representation of what was maybe a man at some point lifting his pathetic little stub of an arm to subconsciously futz with those damned latches on this stupid friggin’ mask only to realize . . . Well. Play it cool. (Which, by the way, meant doing that universal thing everyone did where he just flexed that arm in what was meant to look like a convincing stretch.)

Tim didn’t meet Rhys’s gaze. Funnily, he was pretty sure neither of them were doing great in the “eye contact” department (among about two dozen other departments). With a shake of his head, all he offered was “Listen, I’d . . . I-I’d remove the mask right here and now—might make all this weirdness, like, one degree less weird, but uh . . . hah.” Now the laugh was external, but not at all humored. “Really not convinced something won’t still explode if I try, so . . . Yeah. Sorry about the reawakened horrific trauma, I bet. I promise that's totally unintentional. If I was the real Jack, ya know, it'd be . . . it'd be intentional. But I'm not. So.”

[co-mixed]

Fantastic Origin (Reed Sucks)

Let’s do it, let’s kick off the Fantastic Four review journey. 

The first ever run of Marvel’s first family aka the team I had been actively avoiding until recently. 

Most of Lee/Kirby books are extremely different from what we see in the comics today. You could easily attribute that to the days of yore or just the fact that these books have served as stepping stones towards bigger and more complex stories. Or you could take them for what they are.

Right away I will have to get misogyny out of the way. It’s there and it’s ugly. These books are filled with ridiculous stereotypes and absolutely unacceptable degrading behavior towards women. It’s all the more upsetting when you get to read fan letters from women, they hint at that constantly. 

I gotta say, it worked too because when Crystal became a part of the team, she was relatively badass and was treated with more respect than Sue. But dammit, poor Sue. You can try and convince me that Reed is a good husband but that won’t help a bit. In a world where literal supervillains exist, he is definitely not the worst human being but since he’s being portrayed as a hero, I’m gonna accept the fact that he’s trash. 

Of course, I see what the creators were going for: Reed was supposed to be a hyper-focused, single-minded, science-obsessed team leader with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was supposed to be flawed but sympathetic. 

Especially compared to his beloved Sue who was supposed to be a loving and caring homemaker with her invisibility power being a reflection of her relationship with Reed. As in he only sees her when she’s in danger. 

The way it looks now, 60 years after the cosmic rays incident, is very different.

Sue is a young woman, seemingly younger than Reed, who somehow stumbled into a relationship with a man who treats her as a status symbol. She’s a tag-along, something pretty to walk with, have at home, and look at when it pleases him. Because she’s younger (bear with me, I’m only assuming this based on the Lee/Kirby age), she is very susceptible to his influence and opinions, there’s a power misbalance and she doesn’t really know that things could or should be better. Which is kind of easy to assume, considering her mother was dead and her father was in jail. She also had a brother in high school to take care of and Reed was successful and rich. 

Then after she got powers, she kind of got permanently stuck with him, and that trauma bond became even more dysfunctional. She did assume the role she probably saw in the media at the time, overly caring about everyone but herself, and she accepts material substitutes for actual comfort, such as shopping, because that’s what’s been said and taught to her. 

Her relationship with Reed is passionless too, hence when Namor shows up, she entertains the idea of him. Although, let’s not forget that he keeps kidnapping her and trying to convince her to become his queen of the seas or whatever. Maybe if he was less straightforward and didn’t try to kill her brother in the process… who knows?

But he does, meanwhile, Reed is putting that good-for-nothing brother of hers through school, so she chooses Reed. She even marries him, entrapping herself in a loveless marriage. And after two years of horrible home life with barely any time to get to know whatever she’s been wed to, she gets pregnant. All in all, at this point, at that time, it’s over for her. And as a reader you know she doesn’t escape that. It’s pretty tragic. 

Reed is a scumbag. Yelling at Susan is just part of it, he also acts like he’s the boss of everyone (which I do get when it comes to Johnny and Ben, who are let’s just say irresponsible.) 

He constantly sticks his nose into things like the negative zone, causing meanies like Annihilus to show up. He keeps using Ben or The Thing when he needs and then swears he’ll turn him back. It gets repetitive and no one can really trust him. He pretends to act like a hero after causing a problem and keeps trying to sacrifice himself forgetting his wife and eventually son. Bro, you got responsibilities over there!

I believe that’s the intention but Reed is not that different from Doom, except Doom actually has a sob story to explain his obsession with science and the occult. Reed… at this point in the run we don’t know if he does or where his assholery comes from. All we do know is he’s an equally terrible leader, husband, and friend. Bet he’s not much of a father either. 

But hey, at least he’s putting that good-for-nothing Johnny through school. 

Ben is irritating. We’ve discussed it at length with several people, how so many people can relate to him and consider him their favorite character. But Ben Grimm is awful. You know what? I think the unstable version of him that was around for a brief moment when he could switch into The Thing and back, that version is the real Ben Grimm. If anything, his insecurity is holding him back in that anger. When he gets both strength and his human appearance, that’s when you gotta run for the hills and summon the Hulk to put him down. 

Ben went from petty, insecure, and angry to overcompensating and calling himself pretty and lovable. All the while his paranoia regarding Alicia and her love for him is growing more and more bizarre. He really doesn’t trust her when she says that she likes him as The Thing, he claims he wants to be Ben for her but hey, she’s pretty uncomfortable with Ben so there’s that. 

He did act better than Reed would’ve when he thought Alicia had chosen Silver Surfer but then he ghosted her and threw a tantrum every time Surfer popped up. Have some self-respect, Ben. 

What pissed me off the most is the way he treated Franklin seconds before he found out his middle name was Benjamin. Like, seriously? You’re taking it out on a baby? Besides, neither Sue nor Reed owes you anything. Well, maybe Reed does. But it doesn’t help that Ben keeps getting into fights with that good-for-nothing Johnny.

Johnny is good for nothing. He’s an ok kid I suppose but he doesn’t attend school and somehow ends up in a university (which even managed to piss off one fan! Seriously, don’t ignore the fan mail if it’s there!) Then he spends exactly one semester, meets a friend who participates in his whacky adventures for like a week, and forgets this friend exists. He also forgets the school exists. 

Johnny is either acting out at home, fixing his car, or chasing after girls. Until he meets Crystal and immediately becomes obsessed with her, which no one really cares about. Then Crystal gets stuck under a dome with her merry Inhuman family, and he broods and throws tantrums. They are torn apart and brought back together, and then are torn apart and then brought together, it’s a whole X-men level soap. I actually liked that.

And out of all the villains I’m only gonna focus on Doom. Don’t get me wrong, Galactus is forever the star, but let’s talk Doom. 

He’s an interesting fellow but I don’t get the massive fan base. Dude’s a literal dictator of the worst kind. He experienced dictatorship on his own skin since childhood and he grew up and enslaved his whole country. I would understand if he brought prosperity and happiness to them but that? I was actually pretty impressed by the Latverian arc, in which the FF went to Latveria and were depowered and treated like Doom’s dear guests. It was a creative way to draw a little image of what this kinda system is and how it functions from within. Doom rules by fear and they experienced that fear, they even almost lost hope. I would’ve done this arc a little differently but hey, I’m here 60 years later. 

But at least Doom hadn’t killed that good-for-nothing Johnny.

The Stories

That’s what we’re really here for –  the silly early villains and the bizarre tactics that save the day. We obviously have some baddies that stood the test of time and a few that didn’t. But Reed’s approach throughout everything is pretty much “let’s throw them into space and hope they don’t come back.” They do, Doom’s been to space twice and even made a trip to the microverse. He’s well-traveled now.

In the beginning, it’s a very repetitive scheme: one issue = one arc, Ben argues with that good-for-nothing Johnny, Sue is there, Reed saves the day. But the arcs stretch to two and more issues and the stories become more and more entertaining. At some point, even Sue gets to save a few hours. Not the day though. 

Crystal gets her shining moments, and like I said before, she does very well and almost without Reed’s misogynistic crap. 

There are a few stories I liked, Galactus, of course (behold!), the would-be gamer The Thinker, Latveria visit, and the arc in which whatshisface scientist turned himself into The Thing. That’s pretty much the first time in this run when a one-issue baddie realized the error of his ways and made the ultimate sacrifice. Before that, the antihero role was pretty much Namor’s. Speaking of Namor, how’s his “movie” career? That arc was truly wild and smelled a lot like Golden Age comics.

Now if you’re thinking you’d like to read this run, do. But if you just want to know the origins and main encounters, just watch the 90’s show. Not only it covers most of the pivotal stories, but season one has a fantastic! intro song. You’re gonna love it and if you don’t, it’s gonna haunt you till you do.

I’m positive the stories are gonna get better. I was promised they’re gonna get better but I have a hell of a road ahead of me, 300 issues before I get to more modern days, and even more after that. I’m all in.

[saltydoesstuff]

Are you going to share your oc lore if we ask with a pretty please and a spam of Rottmnt images?

I have so many OCs you gotta be specific- there's a whole school bus of them in my brain being rotated slowly like a rotisserie chicken If we talking about my rise OC Alex (or at least a version of her)- I can only give silly little tidbits as I have been neglecting her actual story; - Being a snow leopard mutant, her fur is very thick and dense- almost like sheep's wool. This makes warm weather absolute HELL for her- she despises summer or any weather above 50 degrees with a strong passion. She refuses to shave her fur to relieve this trouble cause she fears of damaging her coat, so during these times she is huddled next to an AC on blast or sneaking into buildings to hide away in giant freezers - Her thick fur also requires TONS of maintenance. Special fur products, slicker brushes and de-matters- all the sorts. She can't go two days without a through brushing without risking matting, and when she does brush out her fur it can take a few hours depending on its condition and the last time she brushed. The amount of fur she gets out after is almost enough to fill a trash bag, especially coming from her tail - When she was first mutated, Alex had a hard time adjusting to the new bone structure of her legs- mixed with the addition of a giant bushy tail the size of her, she was very clumsy in her first few months. She would stumble, trip, and have things close on her tail. It would take at least nearly a year to become the quick little thief she is now - Speaking of her leg structure, Alex will often run or jump on all fours for quicker speeds and reaches. A normal snow leopard can leap up to 50 across, and she uses this to her advantage. Think of Tigress or Tai Lung from Kungfu Panda, she's like that but smaller in size - When she does eventually meet the turtles officially, it's Mikey who she runs into first. The Hamato family were having another snow day in central park, and Alex was out and about enjoying the cold weather. I don't know how it happens specifically, but somehow Mikey wanders a bit from the group, and gets jump scared by Alex dropping down from a branch of a tree- hanging upside down by her tail. She gets startled as well and falls into the snow below - All of this would be long after the movie, so when the turtles hear of Alex's uncles being the ones that stole the key in the first place. They aren't.. too fond of her at first. They will try to avoid her or outright express their dislike towards her, even if she wasn't even involved in or was even mutated yet when the incident happened. More projecting their grudge against Hypno and Warren towards her than anything she's done, even if subconsciously. Mikey though, being the one that usually jumps on in trusting people first, becomes friends with Alex in secret That's all I got right now that I can form into words, this version of Alex is mainly just a concept than anything else at the moment

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I don't watch a lot of US tv shows. Not because I think they are "bad", but more because they barely hold any appeal to me.

The last few I tried were like : let's start with a pointless sex scene, because dang, regular american boy loves that! Also, let's not pay anyone to do the light. Better if it's too dark to see anything at all 60% of the time, wow we're so gritty.

That said, I happened to stumble on Night Sky. And the reason I got interested was that for once, our two heroes were old people (and it's sci-fi, which I have always loved). And as the heroes, the tone of the first episode was very much slower, calmer and yet super interesting.

It had zero useless sex scenes the whole way, the plot unraveled at a pretty slow but good rhythm, the acting was good. Lovely.

and then.

and then, the number one reson why I've been mostly staying as far from US shows as humanly possible.

The reason why I absolutely despise 99% of all american TV shows.

They can't ever write a freaking ending, and you never know if a show is going to be "renewed" or not.

I've been watching so much shows from other countries where the show is clearly bought to last a set number of episodes, so there is always an ending. Good, bad, I don't even care, as long as it's there.

Now I'm left with no ending, more questions than answers, and the absolute certainty that this was my last ever foray into "made for the US" series.

What are your thoughts about that format? You obviously watch older movies, so I'm not sure if you are into shows at all. I'm curious.

Pfff, I watch sort of everything anon. And definitely tv series.

I wasn't sure how to answer your questions because there is a lot to unpack and honestly? In order to get an encompassing answer, I'd have to write a thesis. But I'll keep it short.

In terms of American shows not getting an ending and in turn, becoming a frustrating viewing experience, I'd say that it has more to do with current production practices and the industry at large, rather than the shows being American. The US has produced most of the greatest tv since its invention and we have experienced the golden age of television for the first couple of decades of the 21st century.

I'd say that the problem is represented by the streaming services and the run of the mill and cancelled shows are a product of that culture. Binge watching, too many projects getting a green light leading to a lot of trash as well, focusing too much on algorithm and quick social media response lead to abrupt cancellation. And sometimes they do it for tax purposes as well. It's the same in the film industry.

Getting out an entire season to streaming immediately hurts the people behind it. With cable tv, writers had a more long-term job, each season had more episodes, the episode was written specifically to fit in commercials as well. Direct to streaming changed that for the worst, hence the writers strike. There's a lot more to be said on this and you can watch this as well, it will help

Poor lighting has indeed been another criticism which I can understand. It's because they're shooting on digital and somehow it gives this illusion that it's more "realistic"? It's not, it's just lazy and it's a shame. Lighting in cinematography is an art and there's plenty of examples out there.

Lastly, the "useless sex scenes". I wonder what constitutes as useless for you though? The existence of a sex scene is not just for some "regular american boy". It's part of a lot of people's lives and being depicted in fiction is to be expected. There's nothing wrong with watching it, for everyone. Would it have a point only if it advances the plot? Could it not be another means of characterization? Of setting a mood? A commentary? Perhaps a glimpse into a life? There's plenty of reasons, even if it appears "pointless". It's unfortunate to see this trend nowadays, but at least it creates debates from people on all sides. I'd actually say that the lack of eroticism and the abundance of sexless characters in a lot of mainstream cinema/tv is creating a false, artificial image of a world that gets boring really fast and certainly a fictional Hollywood subpar to everything that came before.

[thekuraning]

34 and 50!

what are your current obsessions?

34 - Time I succeeded

DAMN well ok uhhhh I was top 10 internationally during the DigiCon 2022 vital lab raid!! But I can't prove it since the app shut down. I was proud of that one, though!

My favorite lasting success that I can prove is the first time I finished a longfic, which was called Slowpoke Tails and Koffing Fumes that I posted to FFnet. It's... not very good!! In fact, reading it now I cringe a lot! But it's my favorite because in a time when my life was very rocky and very close to uhhh aliven't-ing, it was a goal I set for myself that kept me keeping on. It's very silly!! And maybe has a few edgelordy moments, but mostly just silly! I am very proud of this shiny little trash bag!

50 - current obsessions

*knocks politely on your door* Excuse me, do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior, Guzmamore? *wedges my foot inside so you can't close it* listen i was skeptical too ok I was SO SKEPTICAL ok so last april??? I was just hanging around on pinterest, as you do, when I stumbled across this art by Alcka (who is an absolutely lovely artist btw and they have more guzmamore art) and let me tell you something my friend it ACTIVATED something in me and i am about to go on a very long rambling rant about this so im gonna put it under the cut ok??

SO LISSEN OKAY JUST LISSEN im crying im sobbing I used to have a Team Rocket!Sycamore RP blog back in 2013/14ish and I used to play Guzma briefly in Wild Encounters and I thought I had packaged them up and put them in the closet under the shoes but I saw that one piece of art (WHICH SYCAMORE TECHNCIALLY IS NOT EVEN IN!!!) and I became absolutely F E R A L about them overnight like it was supposed to be silly it was supposed to be hahaha and then like a one shot where they kept running into each other on Melemele and went on a silly little date but YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THEM SO MANY

Because as silly as it WAS once I started writing Turning Point I started kind of like finding this vibe between them??

Like on the one hand you have Guzma who has problems with authority and mommy issues and probably daddy issues too who makes a point not to rely on other people but will fall in line for anyone who gives him a pat on the head

On the other hand you have Augustine whose best friend/lover just died catastrophically but not only that who betrayed him and stabbed him in the back so thoroughly and also he had to give you a medal and a parade for getting lysandre killed like Augustine too has issues no matter what backstory you give him just based on XY alone if the man did not start with issues the man has developed issues

And like to make matters WORSE the headcanons I developed for them completely separately during the times I played either of them ALSO kind of started to vibe? idk idk just each of their dispositions like augustine being a feral little freak and guzma being kind of sturdy and down-to-earth when he's not a seething mess they just started to balance each other out and suddenly i had a finished fic and i couldn't get them out of my head and now somehow i have 4 more long fics in planning mode for these two idiots i just hhhHHHHHHH i cant get over them i love them too much the rarest of my pairs

also i have recently become obsessed with the idea of making pokemon character muppets

[papirouge]

i am afraid asking this is going to come off as “what aboutism”/calling out but full disclosure this is not my intention! it’s genuine confusion on my part. i agree that we shouldn’t look for christian messaging in secular media when it’s clearly not intended to be there. however, don’t you watch and consume secular content since you reblog it? do you just enjoy it and ask God if it’s okay and to protect you from any bad intentions it might contain? because as proven with The Chosen and Narnia, even content made by Christians can be questionable (it’s a kinder word because I don’t want to go OT lol). i’m just confused because while i understand we as Christians shouldn’t not be part of the world, is the line we cross is only when we become obsessed with secular media that we forget about God? consuming media as a hobby is definitely doing that and i wish Christians would get that when they make fandom accounts and engage in problematic behavior like looking for Christian messaging to make themselves feel better, especially when said stuff is intended to turn us away from God by showcasing sin as something admirable. do you find that consuming secular media here and there as long as God doesn’t give you a sign that it’s not what He approves of and you are not blinded by the messaging is what is okay? i know He speaks to us differently, so i’m curious what do you think He has said to you about your interests?

hopefully this is all makes sense. God bless you and your blog!

"don't you watch and consume secular media since you watch it?”

Nope, because don't have TV, Netflix or any streaming service 👀

I very seldomly watch movie. I don't play video games but YouTube walkthrough are very handy way to see what a game is really about to make an educated take on it. But when I do, it's only a one timer, and I don't engage in fandoming and shit like that. For a matter of fact, I'm extremely interested in the Five Nights At Freddy lore because there are a bunch of plot elements & subliminals pointing towards the pro life fight and calling out (ritual) child sacrifice (Scott Cawthon the creator of the game denied it ofc he's not stupid - he got canceled for being a registered Republican so I can't imagine if publicly he admitted being pro life lol). That being said, I'm not stupid to the point of going to watch the movie adaptation (a horror movie). And more importantly, I'm not posting FNAF shit everyday saying the lore is aKtcHualLy about God....🙄 See the difference? There's a fine line between entertaining stuff for objective interest....and full on entertaining evil.

If anything, it's not Christians watching secular media making me 'irk', but rather them desperately trying to shoehorn Christian theme into it. Not every secular activity is evil (there's nothing wrong doing sports, playings or reading newspaper - for example I LOVE watching documentaries), but projecting God into stuff that's absolutely nothing to do with holiness is very twisted. I also don't understand the concept of shoving Christianism into medias openly promoting paganism and middle eastern religions such a Star Wars...

Mind you, they are the same one complaining about how everything is too woke but somehow they'll never stop watching the same shows and streaming on the same website pushing for that trash. That's the cognitive dissonance for me...

I definitely think that God can show us that things are definitely not done for us, but this warning can also come in the form of other Christians. I myself super glad I stumbled upon videos from Christians warning against horror movie, worldly music, braids, make up, head covering, etc. Jesus isn't going to appear to you to tell what to do or not to do - he may also use actual Christians (his body) to lead you to the right way.

God speaks to us differently but He will not contradict Himself. He won't say to every Christians to not entertain foreign gods, wear the veil, and not wear makeup....and then allow Western Christians to see movies glorifying paganism, wear make up and whatnot.

The snowflake complex of western Christians is really annoying.

[so-sures-blog]

Bros before Hoes

In which Duncan happens to find his neighbor cute, and his idiot roommates throw him a party because of it.

(AKA: The bros who drink together, sleep together)

Inspired by PPG/RRB fic on ao3

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

On a list of things Duncan would like to wake up to (women on the top, cops on the bottom), this is not it. Heck, this probably wouldn’t even be on the list. 

And by this, he means the completely trashed apartment littered with beer bottles, overflowing trash, and very questionable stains on the walls. Not to mention the dead bodies currently scattered around the living room.

Wait, not dead bodies, but Duncan can only wish.

How was this possible? He went to sleep at, like, ten last night and if he wasn’t mistaken, he had gone to bed while the house was quiet and the only people home were Geoff and DJ. So how the hell were there more than a dozen people in the living room and why did it look like an absolute shit show?

A groan emerges from the couch before a blonde head appears in sight. “Oh,” Geoff says when he sees Duncan standing there. “Sup, dude?”

“What— ” Duncan takes a breath. “ —THE ACTUAL FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!”

Geoff winces and raises a hand to rub his head. “Ouch, not so loud. I have a headache.” He whined.

So did Duncan. “What. Happened. Here.” Duncan narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice dangerously. Geoff laughs awkwardly and avoids his eyes.

“Oh, well, we sorta … kinda … uh,” Geoff gestures vaguely at the apartment. “... had a party?”

Duncan honestly doesn’t know how he could be surprised. This is what he gets for rooming with Geoff.

“How?!” He yells at him. Duncan wasn’t a really light sleeper, but he’s pretty sure he would’ve heard a party going on downstairs. “What time did these people get here!? How did I sleep through a fucking party?”

“Yeah … about that,” Geoff laughs nervously. “We sorta had a kickback last night but we knew you were asleep so we didn’t want to wake you up. Somehow, it became a game of ‘how quiet can this party be so Duncan doesn’t wake up' and we lasted the whole night! You didn’t wake up at all! Everyone was whispering and we had music playing at the lowest volume, and it was actually really fun. Super weird, but fun.”

Duncan is almost impressed. Almost. Trust Geoff to make a quiet party fun. “I’m not helping you clean up,” he informs him. He eyes a body on the floor that turns out to be DJ, cuddling an empty beer bottle while completely unconscious. 

“Aww, dude!” Geoff whines, “I hate cleaning! Come on, we kept it quiet for you!”

Duncan takes another look around the room and begrudgingly admits that it is kinda amazing that they managed to have a party without him waking up. It’s actually a little sweet that they took him into consideration. But still, fuck them.

“No.”

“Duncaaan,” Geoff groans, throwing his upper body off the couch. “C’mon, bro! Please? Dunky? Dunk-man?”

“Don’t call me that!” Duncan yells as he grabs his gym bag. “And this place better be spotless by the time I get back!”

He slams the door and a satisfied smile grows on his face as Geoff’s protests are cut off. Duncan turns to head down the hallway and nearly crashes with someone who lets out a high pitched squeal.

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

Duncan looks down and— oh hell, it’s her. Of all the people in the apartment for him to run into, why does it have to be her? Granted, she did live next to him— but still, why?

Wide brown eyes peer up at him and her head cocks slightly to the side as she blinks. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Huh?” He’s so close to her he can see the smattering of freckles on her nose. 

“Oh! Sorry, I just mean I see you around a lot because you’re my neighbor,” she stumbles, cheeks turning a little pink.

“Oh,” he says a bit more gruffly than he should. He tries his hardest not to check her out and fails. She must’ve just come back from a jog — her short brown hair is tied back and she’s wearing tiny gray shorts and a matching crop top.

“Are you going to the gym right now?” She asks, taking note of the gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Duncan grunts, staring at the staircase behind her. He will not be weakened by a tight fitting tank top, he will not. “I go early to avoid people, I hate crowded gyms.”

She makes a noise of understanding. There’s a beat of awkward silence, where she looks as uncomfortable as he feels before she sticks out her hand. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever got your name.” She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear and Duncan’s eyes follow it, wondering why the hell he thought the little action was so cute.  

“Duncan,” he shakes her hand, hyper aware of how soft and small her hand is as his big and callus ones swallow hers. 

“Courtney,” she dimples and Duncan’s stupid heart skips a beat. “Well, have fun!” She smiles cheerily at him and Duncan can’t take his eyes off of her. What the fuck.

“Thanks,” he mutters as he walks past her. He catches a glance of her as she opens the door to her own apartment. Damn it, she has a nice ass.

Duncan contemplates throwing himself down the stairs before he decides against it. 

It’s a waste, he figures. One flight won’t really do any damage.

***

By the time Duncan makes it home it’s evening. Stopping in front of his door, Duncan narrows his eyes as he hears muffled voices inside the apartment. Either Geoff and DJ actually cleaned the place or he’s about to open the door to the same shitshow as this morning. 

For their sake, he hopes the former.

He pushes the door open and the apartment abruptly falls quiet. The two occupants have frozen in fear, staring at the door with varying degrees of terror. DJ is cowering behind Geoff, who isn’t making a very suitable defense seeing as he too, is shielding away. Duncan’s eyes flit between them and he’s pleased to see a cleaning device in each of their hands.

The apartment isn’t exactly clean, but it’s not a complete mess anymore. At least they’re trying, he has to give them that.

“O-Oh hey man, you’re back,” Geoff coughs, hugging a broom to his chest. “We were cleaning, I swear!”

“I can see that,” he grunts, closing the door. “Sup, Malibu?” He greets the other occupant in his apartment. 

Bridgette is sitting by the counter, skimming through a surf magazine while stroking DJ’s pet, Bunny. She looks up with calm green eyes and gives him an easy smile. “Hey Duncan,” she says. 

“What happened to being clean by the time I got back?” Duncan asks his roommates pointedly.

“Cut us some slack man, we didn’t really wake up until Bridgette got here,” DJ says from his spot by the sink. 

Duncan ignores him with a roll of his eyes, plopping down across from Bridgette. Bunny hops over to him curiously and Duncan sets him with a glare. Yeah, he might have gotten DJ his pet after Geoff and Bridgette might’ve killed his last one (Geoff kept insisting it was lost while Bridgette said it was eaten by a snake that was eaten by a hawk or something), but that didn’t mean he wanted that thing closer to him. 

Duncan didn’t do cute things. 

So lost in his (one-sided) glaring contest, Duncan didn’t notice the change in conversation until too late. 

“Oh yeah, who’s that cute girl by the way?” Geoff asks. “You know, the one who lives next to us?”

“Oh, you mean Courtney? Short brown hair, cute smile?"

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly Duncan perks up, and from the corner of his eye he can see Bridgette give him a knowing glance. Duncan scowls warningly. Out of the four of them, only Malibu knows about his little problem— and Duncan would like to keep it that way, thank you very much.

Except the thing is, he forgets how much Bridgette likes a good romance. “Oh yeah! The girl that Duncan likes, right?"

The reaction is instantaneous.

“What?! Bro, you have a crush? No way!”

“Why didn’t you tell us? My boy’s growin’ up!”

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Duncan roars and Bunny leaps back in shock. 

Bridgette just grins and flips through another page of her magazine. Duncan is tempted to crumble it up. “Oh, you didn’t know?” She says casually. “He met her a few weeks ago and it was like love at first sight.”

It was not.

“You should’ve seen him! She stopped by to say hi, he said ‘nice to meet you’ and when she left he couldn’t get a word out for the next ten minutes. He just gawked at her, although, I guess I can’t blame him. She was cute.”

He did not.

“I’ve never seen him look so lost before, it was kinda adorable. I think he was blushing.”

He was not.

“Bro, I don’t think you’ve ever had a crush before, have you?” DJ asks.

“How would you know!" He shoots back indignantly.

DJ shrugs, unaffected by the rage that’s coming off of him in waves. “I dunno man, I’ve just never seen you show any real interest in anyone before."

Duncan is momentarily struck dumb. Shit, was DJ right? He’s had crushes, right? This isn’t so special. Of course he’s had his fair share of girls, dicked around with them like any other guy— but those had only been short flings, chicks he’d pick up in bars and fool around with until he was no longer interested. Has he never really had a crush before?

Geoff, thankfully, interrupts his spiraling thought process and slings an arm around his neck. “Dudes, you know what we should do?” He grins. “Let’s celebrate!” 

“Hell no!” Duncan shoves him away. “What are we even celebrating for?”

“Your first crush, dude!” Geoff beams and Duncan is this close to strangling the happy-dumb look off his face.

“It’s not a crush!” He yells.

“C’mon man, it’s Saturday,” DJ says. He even pulls out his puppy eyes, as if his sparkling round orbs are going to convince him. “What are you even gonna do today anyway, huh?”

Duncan grimaces and can feel himself actually give the idea some consideration. Why is he considering it again?

“We’ll get your favorites,” DJ adds. “It’s your party after all. You get to call the shots.”

Duncan winces. He takes a look around the room and sees their stupid faces beaming with excited grins. 

Duncan sighs. “Fine.”

***

One pack of beer, two bags of chips, and three pizzas later, and everyone is absolutely smashed. 

It’s at this point Duncan can say with complete confidence that he fucking loves his best friends. Sure, DJ can’t swim without a floaty and always listens to his mama and Geoff is way too happy and loud and can’t go a day without making out with Bridgette, but man, they’re just, like, such good people.

 Like, he just loves the fucking hell out of them. They’re the best guys out there, and have been with his shitty self since high school.  Duncan doesn’t know why he spent so long denying that they were friends— he wishes he could beat his younger punk-ass self for all the dumb things he said back then.

If only there was some way he could express how he felt.

“Hey, I fucking hate you guys,” Duncan says earnestly. “But, like, in the best way.”

They groan in acknowledgment and Duncan closes his eyes.

Girls are dumb. Feelings are dumb. Everything is dumb, but he doesn’t even care anymore. Why? Because he’s got his boys by him, and Duncan would fight the whole fucking world for them.

Yeah.

***

Duncan wakes up to something soft and fluffy smothering him. Fur is in his mouth, and he is suffocating on it because his head is pounding and he doesn't have the strength to pull away. 

Duncan groans, agonized as the fluffy thing slides off his face. He squints to see Bunny, furry butt in his face as it cuddles against him. You better not have pooped in my bed, Duncan doesn’t have the strength to threaten aloud. His mouth is tacky and his eyes are crusty and Duncan would very much like to wake up when the next century has passed, thanks. 

Duncan lets out an annoyed grumble and tosses the covers from his body. He’s about to roll over to the ground to do his push-ups (a habit he’s had since juvie) when he notices two things.

One: the sheer amount of nausea he feels. Duncan almost throws up if it weren’t for the deep breaths Malibu taught him to calm himself. Oh God, he’s definitely listening to her more when she goes on about him and the guys consuming poison. Hangovers are hell.

Two: the suspiciously familiar cowboy hat. 

“What the fuck?!”

His hoarse yell makes the other occupant in his bed jerk awake. “Man, keep it down,” DJ says. His bandana is twisted backwards. “It’s too early.” A hand appears to shove him back into bed.

Duncan is tempted to smack him away, but that requires effort and energy. None of which he has right now. He settles for a weak shove as DJ snuggles him like he would Bunny. Curse him and his incessant need for cuddling. “Why the fuck are you in my bed?”

Another groan sounds by his feet. Geoff yawns and rubs his eyes, lifting his head to look at them. He looks stupid without his ever-present hat on (he looks stupid with it on anyway) and is curled up like a puppy at the foot of the bed. Duncan is struck with the urge to kick him off before he decides that’s too cruel.

“Don’t you remember?” Geoff asks. “We all came in here to talk about our feelings.”

Duncan stares at him in disbelief. “No we did not.”

“Yeah we did, and it was magical,” Geoff responds, voice muffled as he buries his face into the pillow. “You wouldn’t shut up about the girl who lives next door.”

“Courtney,” DJ supplies helpfully.

Duncan stares in mute horror. How drunk did he get last night? He talked about feelings? And girls?

Who even is he?

“It’s okay Duncan. Mama always says that the more you deny the bigger the feelings are. You can keep pretending you’re not a softie. It’ll come out someday.” DJ pats his head, like Duncan’s green mohawk is supposed to be Geoff’s idiotic blonde mop. 

Duncan almost tells him to fuck off, but bites his tongue because DJ is too sensitive to be told that. Instead, he says, “And doesn’t your Mama say to never drink?” DJ reaches a hand out to cover his face and shoves him back down into his pillow. 

Wow, the bed feels amazing.

DJ tries to pet him like he would Bunny — all gentle and reassuring — but the big guy’s hand feels like a meaty deadweight hitting his face over and over again.

“I hate you guys,” Duncan mutters, shoving his hand away.

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Geoff yawns. It sounds like he’s going back to sleep. That actually sounds like a pretty nice idea.

“You guys better get out,” Duncan grunts, feeling his eyelids grow heavy, “I’m warning you.” He lets himself sink deeper into his pillow. “Leave or die,” he mutters, eyes closing. The last thing he hears is Geoff’s quiet snoring.

They don’t leave, and Duncan sleeps peacefully.