#sorry this is so ugly i'm mobile

[backmaskcd]

🤍 bella & jerico

If we kissed

[] Quickie.

[🖤] Tongue.

[🖤] Softly bite your lip.

[] We wouldn’t.

[🖤] Long and meaningful.

[🖤] Let’s hit up the bedroom.

[] You remember last time?

[] Awkward…

[] Lol no.

Would I go out with you?

[🖤] Yes, definitely.

[] No.

[] I want to, but it wouldn’t work.

[] Maybe.

[] Nope, you’re like family.

[] You’re cute, but probably not.

[] Just simply not my type.

[] If I knew you better.

[] Already did.

[] I don’t know.

If we took a picture together, we’d be…

[🖤] Hugging each other.

[🖤] Just chilling.

[🖤] Holding hands.

[🖤] Kissing.

[🖤] Acting dumb.

[🖤] Normal picture.

[] You holding me from behind.

You are…

[] Cute/Pretty.

[] Good looking.

[] Sexy.

[🖤] All of the above

You + me + room = …

[🖤] Movies.

[🖤] Cuddling.

[🖤] Hanging out.

[🖤] Kissing.

[🖤] Playing games.

[🖤] Everything.

[] Wouldn’t let you in.

You should…

[🖤] Hit me up.

[🖤] Be mine.

[🖤] Marry me.

[] Reblog this so I can send you a heart.

[] be studying

If we got married, I’d…

[] Divorce you.

[] Make kids.

[] Take your money and bounce.

[🖤] Smash every day.

[] I would cheat on you.

[🖤] Be faithful.

[] Kill you in your sleep

[] We wouldn’t

[niningtori]

to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter one: do you not love me? like at all?

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu more than anything. you just wish he loved you, too. or you finally break up with beomgyu and move on, but as for him? maybe he's starting to realize too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?)

word count: 2.1k

notes: hi friends! ... r u mad at me? be honest (*´ｪ｀*) i'm sorry i've been gone for so long, but i've had the worst writer's block with my other story. i decided to just post this because i couldn't get the idea of toxic!beomgyu out of my head. don't worry, he will suffer. anyway, i hope you like it!! if not, please don't hurt my feelings i beg.

"i told you it was nothing. why are you freaking out?"

"she was fucking you with her eyes, beomgyu!" you exclaim in frustration.

"and that's my fault how?"

"it's not your fault, but i'm sick of you entertaining women, let alone your actual fucking ex, while i'm standing right next to you!" his ex is just another fish in the barrel, or at least that's what he says, but the thought that they were intimate together at one point still makes you feel sick. truthfully, your boyfriend is handsome, so you've spent the better part of the past 10 months warding off the women who circle him like vultures. you wouldn't mind as much as you do if he seemed at all interested in helping you do so, especially when faced with his ex that you suspect he still has feelings for, but he does not. quite the opposite, actually. it's like he thrives off of the attention and god it hurts.

"i'm not entertaining anybody. i told her i have a girlfriend now," he, well, you would say argues, but it's said so nonchalantly it doesn't warrant the term.

"a girlfriend you proceeded to ignore while she hung off of your shoulders and laughed all night! i just don't understand how you don't understand how much it hurts my feelings. i'm a human too! how would you feel if my ex, who was very clearly interested in me, hung around me right in front of you?" and it's like you're explaining empathy to a child.

"me? i wouldn't give a fuck because it's not that serious," he replies with a slightly irritated shake of his head.

it's always like this. always. you're always the one who cares more between the two of you. you were the one who asked him out in the first place. you were the one who initiated your first kiss. your first fight. hell, even your first reconciliation. you're not stupid, you know he doesn't feel quite the same way you do, but he has to feel something, right? otherwise, why would he say yes to you when he's rejected so many other women? your brain hurts trying to wrap your head around it all.

"you're missing the point! if you were me, you would—" you begin frustratedly, but you cut yourself off. "you know what? i don't even have the energy to explain this to you. i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" you all but shriek.

"you don't have to do shit, just leave if you're that fucking unhappy," he spits out angrily, which is the first real emotion — besides mild annoyance — you've seen out of him this entire conversation. he gets impatient when you're like this, which usually results in you relenting, but not tonight. you're far too hurt to let go so easily.

"you're right! i am unhappy! i just — why don't you care that i'm unhappy? what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" you have a brave face on but you can feel your eyes getting hot and your voice trembling ever so slightly.

"you could try not being so damn needy, maybe that'd help."

your eyes redden even further and your lips unintentionally twist themselves into a sour frown. you hate it when he calls you needy because you do need a lot from him, it feels like. his time. his care. his attention and affection. yet you never seem to get it.

"do you not love me? like at all?" you ask. all of the venom in your tone has been sucked out mercilessly and you sound more helpless than angry.

"do you not realize how fucking crazy you sound?" he scoffs as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time.

"why won't you give me a straight answer?" you question, voice softer than it was before.

he does nothing but scowl and you know beomgyu well enough to know that he's avoiding your question. that's enough of an answer as it stands, really. he doesn't care. never has. probably never will.

"then why'd you even say yes to dating me?" you truly don't understand. you thought you were different. you thought he saw something in you he didn't see in his harem of other suitors, and trust that there were many.

"i dunno. i was just bored, i guess," he answers with a shrug and your world as you know it collapses. the man you love sees you as nothing more than a way to kill time. he's picking you up right now just to toss you away when the next shiny toy presents itself. and so far, you've let him drag you around because you love him. that's how much you love him. but looking at him now, at how unbothered he is, you wonder if you've even got anything left to give.

"i really do love you," you manage to squeeze out with a bitter smile. your poor heart is on display for the naked eye to see and it seems like he really couldn't care less, but that won't stop you from asking. "does that mean anything at all to you?"

"well, i'm sorry you feel that way," he says simply, "but that's not my fucking problem."

your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you're going to throw up. in this moment, as you watch the love of your life dismiss you like you're a fucking dog begging for scraps of food, you feel an overwhelming sense of clarity as you realize he doesn't love you. he doesn't even like you. he probably hates you, actually. like a mental montage, every moment in which he showed you that exact sentiment plays all at once in your head.

all those times you let him choose everything from movies to dinner because the idea of a compromise was inconceivable. all of those occasions, special and otherwise, where you were supposed to go out on a date, but he'd bail without a word and you'd forgive him with no apology. when you'd offer him your share of dessert because he ate all of his and you knew he wanted more, and he'd take it without so much as a thank you. how you'd sit and listen to him tell stories about how amazing his friends were, but he'd never even ask about your day. when those same friends would jokingly call you the perfect girlfriend and you thought it was an indication of how good your relationship was, but in reality, it was a way to tease him because the thought of actually being with you was so abhorrent and ridiculous that it must be a joke. all those times you told him you loved him and he'd just smile and kiss you deeper. memories like these flood your brain with a vengeance so cruel it makes your head ache, and in a way, you realize it's ridiculous to be surprised when there was so much proof of his feelings in the first place.

"oh. okay," you say with what you hope is a soft and unbothered laugh, but comes out more as a choked one. "i guess there's nothing left to say. i'll get my shit and go."

you hesitate for a few excruciatingly awkward moments before collecting yourself enough to start gathering your things, which are scattered haphazardly around his apartment from his bedroom to his bathroom. it's like a walk of shame, almost, and you feel even shittier when he plops down on the couch with a long suffering sigh as he begins to massage the bridge of his nose. you feel so small in this moment — like a petulant child who just got done throwing an unsuccessful tantrum — and you're now soaking in the sobering aftermath and sitting with the thought that he just watched you have a meltdown like he was watching a monkey putting on a show. how much more is he going to humiliate you? enough is enough, you think, so before you can actually finish collecting all of your belongings, you're scurrying out of the apartment. before you go, you glance back at him one last time. "beomgyu?" you ask tentatively, tears clouding your eyes.

"yeah?" he replies with a sigh. this is it, you think.

"i don't want to see you ever again," you say firmly. before he can reply, if he ever intended to in the first place, you slam the door.

-

there's a lot to love about beomgyu. for one, he's handsome, which is obvious, but he has a certain allure you could never help but be drawn in by. he's always been a charming man, but even more so when he's talking to a woman he's interested in. as interested as he could be, that is. he's funny and comically pompous when he wants to be, but still somehow down to earth despite it all.

he's been described as a mood-maker, and while he grew to resent that term, you thought it was at least partially true, if only in the context of your relationship. when he's sad, you're devastated. when he's happy, you're over the fucking moon. his feelings are your whole world. or were, you guess, since all that's over now.

it wasn't all bad all the time, you think. there were times where you thought he really might reciprocate even a fraction of what you felt for him, and most of the time, that was enough. you could work with that. love looks different for everyone, you would reason. maybe he just had a funny way of showing it.

there were days where you'd laugh together and end the night lying in each other's arms while you'd cradle him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world because, to you, he really was. he was normally so boisterous when with his friends, but while he would never admit it to anyone else, he'd tell you about some of his insecurities while you gently combed your fingers through his long, silky hair. he'd speak of regrets and longing for people to take him more seriously. he'd never say it, but he wanted people to see you like you saw him. the real him. you'd let him cry while your hands cupped his cheeks and you'd shush him while he fiddled mindlessly with your hair like a child. you'd kiss his the tip of his reddened nose until he laughed instead of cried. times like those, you'd really think you were someone special to him. but now you realize you were wrong. you were just an outlet for him, and anyone willing to be an emotional dumping ground would do the trick too.

after a few weeks of moping, your sadness has begun to morph into anger and resentment. you spent nearly a year of your life trying to make an emotionally stunted man care about you, and that's not even counting the years of pining over him before you finally worked up the courage to ask him out. it was difficult to see it in the moment, but after being away from him for so long, it's crystal clear that he was honestly just an asshole who didn't really like you. nothing more, nothing less. maybe he'd find someone to change for someday, maybe he'd even work things out with his ex, but for whatever reason, you weren't her. that's just the way it goes, you guess. what really bothers you are the "what if's" of the situation. what if you were prettier, or smarter, or kinder. would he have seen you for who you really are? would he have grown to appreciate you if you had given him more to appreciate?

either way, there's no use crying over spilled milk now. you won't be going back to him any time soon and he certainly won't come crawling back to you. you'll continue to think of him less and less until your time together fades into a distant (and unpleasant) memory. you smile at the thought.

[aidankalenko]

dropping off my latest narumitsu here, please enjoy

title: Occurring Continuously (ao3 link)

word count: 3469

summary: Set vaguely after 5-5. Wright thinks Apollo has a crush on him and goes to Edgeworth to ask for his opinion.

notes: A getting together fic that got away from me a bit. Post time-skip Nick is too fun to write.

“I think Apollo has a crush on me.”

“I can't say I’m surprised,” Edgeworth replies without looking up from his tea.

Over the years of their friendship, tumultuous as it has been, Wright has come to find the scent of Edgeworth’s imported teas a tangible anchor for Edgeworth's heavily abstract presence. A sweet aroma of ceylon meanders through the air, a reflection of Edgeworth's indifferent demeanour.

Just the usual. At least it smells nice.

Wright shifts in his seat. The buckle of his waistcoat presses into the small of his back, wedged against the plush chair situated across from Edgeworth.

“Right,” Wright deadpans. “I forgot you lost the ability to experience surprise in your old age.”

That earns him a snort, an auditory hint of a smile.

“After spending my years with you, Wright, I had no choice. Otherwise, I couldn't have coped with your special company.”

“We're getting away from the point,” Wright complains.

“Now that's your specialty.”

“Edgeworth,” Wright whines.

Edgeworth finally looks up. His glasses reflect sunlight and obscure his dark eyes for a second.

“Like I said, I’m hardly surprised,” Edgeworth replies. “You were a role model. Then, you were a mentor. Now, you're his boss and you've got a new suit to boot.”

Wright looks down at his outfit. He smooths down the waistcoat, adjusts the chain of his locket. “The suit can't be that impressive,” he mumbles.

“Agreed,” Edgeworth says with no edge at all. It still earns him an eye-roll from Wright. “But it's a number of levels up from sweatpants and sandals. Plus, your face is completely different without the hat.”

Wright smooths a hand over his scalp. “You really think so?” he asks.

Edgeworth takes a sip of his tea and doesn't bother to hide his unimpressed expression behind his cup. “Wright,” he says, “if you came here looking for compliments, I’m afraid I’ve already hit my daily quota.”

“Is that restricted to comments on my physical features or do I get a different number for my shining personality as well?”

“Wright,” Edgeworth grunts. Wright allows himself a brief laugh.

“Okay, so I look different,” Wright acquiesces, “but, like, I always thought he saw me as a father figure.”

“And?”

Wright manages a slight blush. “Okay, that's kinkier than I was expecting from either of you,” he admits.

Edgeworth shrugs. “I don't know the boy,” he says. “I’m just saying that it might not be as much of a deterrent as you might expect.”

After some more tea, Edgeworth leans an elbow on his desk. “What gave you the inclination to believe he might be infatuated?” he asks.

“Infatuated seems kind of like a strong word.”

“Wright, stay on task.”

“Sorry,” Wright mutters reflexively. He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I don't know. I’ve caught him staring a couple of times, but I blamed that on the new look. But he also, you know—touches me more. Dusting my jacket kind of thing. Laughs at my jokes.”

“Including that mop you call hair?”

“Firstly, what kind of mop is as stiff and clean as this? And secondly, that was kind of a low blow.”

“I had a feeling your vanity could use some taming if you're receiving such attention from your young protege.”

Wright tugs at his collar. “He is young,” he comments. “Eleven years younger than me, in fact.”

Edgeworth hums. “Ah,” he says. “You're afraid you're a bad influence.”

Wright averts his eyes. “I can't say I’ve been the best,” he says. “I’m trying, but you know. This has all been done on the fly.”

“You're an expert on that by now,” Edgeworth tells him. His sincerity softens the corners of his lips and eyes. “Have more confidence.”

Sighing, Wright nods. “I guess you're right,” he says. “I should, especially if I want to be a good role model for him.”

“You're one of the best this country has ever seen in the courtroom, Wright.”

“I could stand to hear that more often.”

Edgeworth cuts the air with a sharp sigh. Wright grins.

“I’m already pushing it by exceeding my daily quota, Wright,” he says. “As I was saying, you're already a covetable mentor and role model. Any other expectations are ones of your own fabrication. You shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself.”

A small smile curves Wright's mouth. “You know,” he says, “I came to you because you're my best friend and pretty much the smartest guy I know. I wasn't expecting actual human advice. You've really embraced the soft part of you, you know?”

“Wright, I think you forget that I have an adoptive younger sister. The circumstances have their similarities.”

“Can't you just take a compliment?”

“I’ve been told that's not exactly my area.”

“Yes, by me, many, many times. Guess that's my bad.”

Edgeworth smiles in that careful, small way of his. “So,” he says, cutting the atmosphere yet again, smile dropping, “what's the next step?”

“Well, I got my badge back, so I was thinking I should go for my driver's license next—”

“Wright,” Edgeworth says severely.

Wright grins, but he does have the sense to be a tiny bit sheepish. “Wait until a confession comes or not?” he says. He shrugs.

Edgeworth drums his fingertips on his arm. The gesture does not produce sound, but Wright hears it regardless.

“You know,” Wright says, “I thought you would've advised against any sort of advance. He is my colleague, after all, and also eleven years my junior.”

“Wright, I’ve learned that there isn't much I can do to stop you once you've put your mind to something.”

For a second, Edgeworth expresses just a hint of discomfort. Wright almost misses it with all his shameless grinning, but his eyes are very familiar with Edgeworth's silhouette, every sigh and frown comprising a canvas he'd committed to memory with effortless ease ages ago.

Edgeworth fidgets in his seat as light glints off his glasses. He looks like a villain about to make a confession in one of his beloved historic cartoon series. Which is to say, his face moves muscles that slightly resemble some sort of emotion.

“Which is why,” Edgeworth says, “the next logical question is about your future plans. If you have any. Which I am not surprised that you lack.”

“You and your logic,” Wright scoffs. Edgeworth's brow furrows and Wright counts it as a victory. “Guess it's my bad, yet again, to hope for something that isn't a product of your infallible logic.”

A pause.

“You're asking for my personal opinion.”

“He's learning.”

Edgeworth rolls his eyes.

“I don't suppose I have one,” he says, but there's a note of hesitation that slows his lips.

“Uh huh. But you always have an opinion about me.”

“Remember what I said earlier about your vanity?”

Wright chuckles. “Alright, got me there. Still,” he presses, “I’m asking as a friend.”

Edgeworth's expression sours. “That's cheap, pulling the friend card,” he complains.

“It wouldn't be if you just acted without having to be prompted.”

“Fine.”

Edgeworth leans back in his seat. Wright observes the fading scent of ceylon and the faint hints of expensive cologne hanging on Edgeworth's shirt cuffs.

“It's your life, Wright. If you think you can be happy with him, that he can be happy with you, then I don't see how it's a question.”

Silence brews between them, hot, with steam curling at the edges.

“Edgeworth,” Wright coos, “you are so damn cute.”

“Are you asking to be thrown out of my office?” Edgeworth replies hotly, brow twitching.

“That's so sweet of you,” Wright continues, “wanting the best for me and all that. I’d almost think you had a crush on me, too!”

“Wright, with the rate at which your head is ballooning, I’m starting to doubt you'll fit through the door even if I attempt to throw you out of it.”

“That's not a denial.”

“Wright,” Edgeworth says, and the sharp quality of that warning is warmed steel against Wright's throat. “I do not have a crush on you. Don't mistake me for your twenty-something-year-old protege.”

“Oh my god, you're jealous!”

Edgeworth's eyes flash behind his glasses. The thrill of his prickling energy pressing Wright into his seat is reminiscent of those poker games Wright used to play; it's a satisfying taste of nostalgia. That's Edgeworth, through and through.

“I wasn't expecting a confession in exchange for my problem, but I guess that's one way of going about it,” Wright says. His face hurts from grinning.

“Wright.”

The name drops like a bucket of cold water atop Wright's head. Game's over.

Wright sobers his expression. Across from him is a marble statue with cracks around the eyes and mouth. Lines of age, weathering, personality. It doesn't take away from the beauty of the statue, no. In fact, it adds life, and it is there that Wright seeks out clues, truth.

He stepped out of line. He should have known. Edgeworth can be flighty, sometimes more literally than not, when it comes to his emotions. But sometimes Wright can't help himself—especially because of that flight risk.

Some of the lines on that face were carved by Wright himself. And maybe that's why Wright finds himself drawn there, searching. The statue before him is in its most permanent iteration; maybe it's habit that Wright tests that permanence.

“Alright,” Wright says. He resists the urge to put up his hands in some show of submission. “I’m sorry. I stepped out of line.”

Edgeworth's expression tightens like a canvas over its wooden frame. Were he to allow a drop of emotion to hit that pristine primer, Wright is sure he'd be marvelous.

“Perhaps,” Edgeworth allows. Tension slowly seeps out of his face. “And perhaps I should learn how to take a joke one of these days. You'd think I would have, after all this time.”

“You know what they say,” Wright replies, “old dogs and new tricks and all that.”

He finds himself surprised to feel his own body relax. He shouldn't be. More often than not, he's drawn like a bow when he's with Edgeworth.

Edgeworth adjusts his glasses on his face, replaces that mask of cool he's so fond of.

“You really are the turnabout master,” he says, and his voice is weary as he speaks, “somehow spinning this matter into a question of our friendship.”

“It was just a joke,” Wright offers. An olive branch.

Edgeworth manages a wry smile that doesn't quite breach the barrier of his glasses. “Right, and this is the part where I laugh,” he deadpans.

Wright mirrors that wry expression and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Text from Trucy,” he says. “Says she's hungry. I gave her lunch money, but I guess she just misses this newly handsome face.”

Edgeworth stares at him. Wright has an excellent poker face, practised and perfected out of Edgeworth's observant eye. Still, Wright doubts himself under that grey scrutiny.

“You'd know better than I do,” Edgeworth replies airily. He pointedly pulls out a folder from his desk drawer. “Go to her.”

“I’ll update you on the Apollo situation,” Wright promises him.

Edgeworth's expression doesn't budge. His marble is luminous in the sunlight.

“I shall wait with bated breath,” he replies in a voice that certainly does not suggest that he will.

It's an easily difficult move to step out of Edgeworth's office.

—————————

Apollo makes his move sooner than later.

They're both doing some reading from a recent conference out of state when Apollo clears his throat.

“Um, Mr… Phoenix,” he starts.

“Please,” Wright replies, “Mr. Phoenix was my father. Just call me Phoenix. Nick if you're feeling daring.”

Apollo chuckles and the sound warms Wright's belly. “I’ll just try Phoenix on for size for now,” he replies.

Wright avoids making a comment about size.

“Anyway,” Apollo powers on, the brave lad, “I just noticed the time and I was wondering if you wanted me to pick up something from the ramen cart or something. Or, uh, if you wanted to stretch your legs, we could get dinner…?”

“Not somewhere too far,” Wright replies. “These legs can only work so hard after five p.m.”

Apollo's face brightens with the brilliance of starlight. Wright doubts he could ever think of Apollo without also thinking of the galaxy, celestial beauty.

“W-Well, we have a couple of options,” Apollo says, and it's immediately clear that he's been thinking about this for a while. Prepared for several situations and possible outcomes. He can really be such a tryhard sometimes. It's incredibly endearing.

Apollo rattles off some restaurant names ranging from casual to chic. In his heart of hearts, Wright is a simple man; in his wallet, there isn't much to speak of.

“I guess it depends,” Wright says. “Are you treating me?”

Somehow the question is weighty enough to tighten Apollo’s lips.

A switch flips in Apollo’s head. He smiles, worried and weary at the same time, and replies, “Yeah, it’s on me.”

“I could use some fresh air,” Wright accepts. Apollo is the sun.

Wright hasn’t extinguished a sun before. He expects it to be an implosion, a great snuff of fire going up in smoke—he also expects that sun to burn again, a different flame for a better man.

———————————

The next time Wright ends up in Edgeworth’s office around noon, that cyclical scent of ceylon in the air, Edgeworth moves first.

“I pray you’ve come with good news?” Edgeworth asks. His tone is so flat Wright almost trips on his feet on the way in.

“God, the attitude already!” Wright accuses. “I didn’t even say hi and you’re already at my throat!”

“I haven’t had time to face you in court,” Edgeworth replies, having the gall to smile through his words, “so I’ve got to keep you sharp somehow.”

Wright feels his heart expand and deflate all at once.

“I’m not trying to sound desperate,” Wright says, “but man, I miss that.”

Edgeworth’s smile remains for a few moments longer. “Be careful what you wish for,” he says. It’s a chimera caught between promising and threatening.

“Anyway,” Edgeworth says on an inhale. His chest is stiff. Wright couldn’t be more endeared. “Have you any news regarding Apollo, or are you here simply to be a bother?”

Wright hesitates. “You’re so formal,” he begins.

“Don’t deflect,” Edgeworth presses.

Wright winces. “He… He basically asked me out,” he explains. “Like—on a date. Dinner date. He had more confidence than I was expecting, which was insanely cute.”

Edgeworth takes a cup of tea from the corner of his desk and brings it closer. He nods at Wright, prompting him to continue.

Again, Wright hesitates. “He’s cute,” he says, “don’t get me wrong. And he was such—such a gentleman, you know?”

“None of the things you’re saying have anything to do with what actually occurred that night,” Edgeworth observes. He smiles once again. There’s no time to analyze the nature of this smile.

Wright circles his thumbs around each other. “I mean,” he says, his words skipping across the surface of his tongue, “nothing happened.”

“And yet, you seem tormented by the whole thing.”

“‘Tormented’ is a strong word,” Wright comments, flinching.

Edgeworth rolls his eyes. “Regardless, it seems to be on your shoulders,” he says. “What happened? Or was it something you said to him?”

“I guess…” Wright trails off, remembering. With ease, he reels the memories of last night from his mind. The shy touches at his waist. The fluttering smiles. The vigorous blush on the boy’s face.

“I guess it was just that nothing happened,” Wright says. He swallows, and then he also says, “And—well, I told him nothing would happen.”

Edgeworth’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “It took only one date to make you feel certain?” he asks. The incredulity from his lips is sweet.

Wright stops fidgeting his hands. He places them on Edgeworth’s desk, feeling the earth under his touch. Edgeworth observes him.

“I knew,” Wright says quietly, “that nothing would happen.”

“So,” Edgeworth says, “why did you go?”

“What was I supposed to do,” Wright sighs. He looks down at his hands. They stretch under the weight of two gazes.

There is silence in the room, bitter, aromatic. Wright’s sinuses must be inflamed.

“You know,” Wright starts, unsure of where he’s going, taking blind step after blind step forward, “this is the first time I’ve ever, in the last eight years, talked about—”

He stops. He’s afraid to continue.

Slowly, he raises his eyes to Edgeworth’s face. What meets him is pure, flawless marble—and somehow that gives Wright strength.

“This is the first time,” Wright starts again, “that I’ve mentioned anything about my love life to you, in the entirety of our friendship, and the fact that you said I should do what makes me happy…”

Wright inhales. Exhales. Spurs roll across the walls of his lungs.

“It made me—happy,” Wright says. He chokes on the word, so bulbous and contorted against his soft palate.

Edgeworth pulls forward, closer into Wright’s gravity, inclined towards his downcast eyes. “Wright,” he says softly. “Is there something the matter?”

“You really think that—that I could be happy with Apollo…?”

Wright’s question sounds so hollow, so empty, fragile porcelain that rings thinly against the blunt head of a hammer.

“Well, there’s no way I can be certain,” Edgeworth admits. “I—I could only hope for your happiness,” he adds quietly. “Above all. Indeed, this is the first time romance has ever been discussed between the two of us, and I do recognize the significance of that. And—as simple as it is, I wish only for you to be happy, my friend.”

My friend. The sound of the words vibrating against the walls of Edgeworth’s lush office feels like a succession of lashes against Wright’s spine, propelling him forward. His palms root his weight against the desk between them.

Wright stares at Edgeworth. He knows this face, this perfect, weathered, marble face. The image of that face has haunted him for decades now, in so many different iterations Wright could fill an entire library with records of Edgeworth.

He knows this face, his life’s greatest constant, his favourite everyday novelty.

Today is not a day of novelty. Today, Edgeworth looks the same as ever. He looks steady and stony.

And yet Wright takes his leap.

“You could,” Wright says haltingly, “make me happy.”

The air falls completely still.

Edgeworth inhales. Wright is certain of the ceylon aroma against Edgeworth’s senses, and that is all he is certain of.

“Pardon me?” Edgeworth asks.

“You could make me happy.”

It is an admission, and it is an admission that slides from the pit of Wright’s guts out into the ceylon air of Edgeworth’s plush and posh office.

“I don’t,” Edgeworth says with such slowness, such viscosity, “I don’t know what you mean—”

“Don’t play dumb,” Wright hisses. The noise is ugly, as is the ball of nerves knotting up his lungs and throat.

Edgeworth flushes, flustered. “I’m not—” he starts, but he can’t find the finish. His eyes begin to drown in his blush. The astonishing shade of red startles Wright into a laugh.

“I’m not playing dumb!” Edgeworth spits. His hairs are standing on end. “I genuinely have no idea what you could be insinuating!”

Wright rolls his eyes, and with it, the room spins on its axis in the second of an instant. “No, you do,” he insists. “You do. There’s no way. You’ve been around the world; you’ve met so many people. I can’t spell this out for you, Edgeworth.”

Haunches raised, Edgeworth stirs. He rises from his chair, matching Wright’s stature. His eyes are steel daggers pinning Wright to the floor, as if the weight of Edgeworth’s presence wasn’t heavy enough to incapacitate him.

“Then,” Edgeworth says, and the simple, single syllable draws Wright tight like a bowstring.

“Then?” Wright asks.

Edgeworth approaches. Wright’s breath feels crowded in his chest.

“Then you won’t mind,” Edgeworth starts, and his lips form the finish against Wright’s mouth.

Relief is the first wave to crash against Wright’s sensibilities, and with it brings clarity that lasts all of two seconds before the wave of fire crashes in after. Edgeworth is cool steel that does nothing to calm Wright’s flames—the phoenix dragged out of the ashes Wright hadn’t known had settled. Edgeworth is a beast tamer, and Wright the beast, constantly at the whims of his master.

It’s a short moment of contact, perhaps even chaste. And yet, Wright can feel fire licking at his nerves; he can feel lava pour into his joints and cool all too rapidly; and suddenly, he is a statue of stone, fixed in place as Edgeworth circles him with his eyes.

“You’re right,” Wright says. “I didn’t mind.”

[captainhongjoong]

kim sungcheol as jung jinsu in hellbound season 2

[fully-caulked-wagon]

Posting a few things that I forgot to and had on the backburner. Tried out a couple new pens on ibis x mobile at the beginning of September, so here you go.

[jackalmeat]

still can't believe bestie neglected to inform me that my babygirl apparently turns into knockoff brand Mads Mikkelsen by the time he hits his mid-30s

[bluberimufim]

Me, just starting my architecture degree: I'm gonna make such accessible architecture! All my buildings are gonna be so accessible and welcoming!

Me, two months into my first big project: I hate ramps I hate ramps I hate ramps I hate ramps I hate ra-

[yangjeongin]

decided we need a halloween layout so hi 🤙

[ofdamnation]

i have so much muse but i’m so tired after working all weekend but thank u sm if you’re writing with me i love all of my things rn if you’re not wyd??? but yeah can’t wait to fuck up ur lives with replies love ya x

[partycatty]

I have this idea:

Johnny Cage x tomboy (can be gender neutral reader), I see the reader as a introvert, gamer, a bit of a nerd that prefers to wear comfy pants than elegant, tight dresses/skirts. Johnny likes to talk to them cause they can play games together (I believe that johnny being a bit of a gamer is a fact stated in mk1, when we have a Cage's Mansion tutorial?) and so he decided to invite reader to a red carpet event created because of the launch of his new movie. It's first time in their life to attend such thing and they really don't know what to do... (the rest is up to you, they can either fuck before the event while reader is trying to pick a good outfit or just go there and have fun or whatever<3)

johnny cage > zip me up

johnny's not used to seeing his best friend in anything but a hoodie and sweats. what happens when they have to dress outside of their comfort zone?

warnings: nsfw... :3, exhibitionism?, hardcore praising LOL, awkward reader (no rizz ...), reader is written as curvy? LONG POST LOL

notes: i physically cant write dom johnny without it sounding super ooc LOL ALSO!! im so sorry if the formatting is iffy, ive been forced to use desktop and the formatting is completely different than my usual mobile writing

masterlist

honestly, it's hard to gauge what games he'd actually play, so a part of me believes he mainly plays... mortal kombat. and yes, since he is canonically responsible for the franchise existing, he would main himself. or maybe he'd play fortnite, lord knows he'd have his own skin.

"come on, man! you can't keep picking general shao! you can just say you hate me," johnny groans, staring at the character select screen. his favorite thing was to drop tidbits about the characters and compare them to the real life counterparts. "i'm still mentally recovering from witnessing his ugly mug."

you chuckle and lean back in your chair, pulling your headset mic closer to your lips. "would you rather i picked one of your buddies? kenshi, or as you called him, sexy face two?"

"and now you're asking me to beat up my best friend," johnny sighs dramatically. you giggle, and it makes his heart flutter and cheeks redden. thankfully, today was a day your webcams were turned off so you were none the wiser. you make a comment that he's the one that wanted to play a game that features his real friends and actual enemies which earns yet another groan from him.

"if you're gonna be annoying, we could switch to something else?" you offer teasingly. "not my fault you choose to stare at yourself every game instead of learning combos."

"oh hush, you love me," johnny replies, earning a little peep from you out of surprise. he loved to push your buttons and flirt with you. it was in his personality, sure, but because of it you did have a massive crush on him. it was innocent and purehearted, but you just couldn't see yourself risking your great friendship over some silly feelings. "you love it when i'm difficult, don't lie to yourself."

"...shut up," you pathetically try to retort, sinking into your seat and fighting the flush on your face. "are we gonna run another round or what?"

"actually, i had something to ask of you," johnny says, tone suddenly serious and almost unreadable. you feel a pit in your stomach at his tone, wondering if maybe you're in trouble. your mind spirals as you nervously fidget in anticipation. "well, two things actually. could you turn your camera on so i can properly ask you?"

you shakily turn your camera on in discord, anxiously glancing between your monitors and camera lens. johnny smiles to himself, leaning forward get a closer look at you as if you were sitting across the table from him.

"good girl, there we go," he says encouragingly, making your thighs clench as you use your sleeves to hide your face. "no, come on, don't hide. here, let me-" he clicks on his own camera button and his webcam blinks to life. he smiles directly into the camera, and for a moment you're winded at the reminder that you're best friends with a celebrity. "-there. now it doesn't feel like i'm talking to my computer."

"well, you are-" you speak up, ready to go on one of your famous tech tangents. johnny holds up a single finger, shushing you instantly. as much as he'd love to hear your voice for hours on end, he wanted to squeeze out what he was going to say first.

"-hold your tongue, my dearest nerd," johnny quips with a wink. "my favor first." you tense up before he speaks up again. "i've got a movie coming out. finally, right? point is, cris is an absolute no-go, and my assistant couldn't find a damsel to hang off my arm in time for the red carpet. so, next best thing, i was wondering if... you'd be my plus one."

"i-i don't dress up, johnny," you protest, looking away. "all those cameras, all the shouting... not for me."

"it's not all bad," he insists with a smirk. "you'll have me. all you have to do is stay close to me and smile."

you stammer, trying to spill out more excuses for him to give in and stop asking.

"i don't have a dress-"

"i'll buy you twenty."

"nobody knows who i am-"

"eyes'll be on me."

"what if someone laughs at me?"

"doll, have you seen some of these hollywood clowns? you'll look just fine."

you tug at your hair, exasperated. he came prepared with every response, had every reason to bring you to the carpet. you wanted to say no, but truth be told, you missed johnny dearly. you don't get to see him in person often, given your medium distance and his constant work. a meek "fine" escapes your lips and johnny cheers to himself, his excitement painted all over his face. it made you warm how well he was at showing his appreciation at times.

"i knew i could count on you, sweetheart. this means the world to me. i'm getting you tomorrow at three, okay? we're gonna get you a nice dress, i'll get a matching suit tailored... oh, it'll be like prom all over again!" he's gesturing wildly as he hypes himself up over the plan.

"i never went to prom, johnny," you chuckle to yourself, eyes on your keyboard. "i wouldn't know the experience."

"well that's ridiculous," johnny looks surprised at this fact, for a reason you can't pinpoint. "i would have asked you if we knew each other then."

"i'm sure," you agree shyly, turning away to try and hide your blush. "i'll see you tomorrow, johnny."

"see you tomorrow, doll," he smiles at the camera again, and you catch a glimpse of it as you weakly return the expression. then, johnny leaves the call, leaving you huffing and blushing. he just asked you to be his plus one on the red carpet, for his movie, for his fans... all eyes will be on you. the thought terrifies you, but maybe you could push through for your friend. you were a software developer, mostly confined to your dimly lit bedroom. this was a whole new realm!

you roll around on your bed and kick your feet, wondering why you're always so awkward around him. if you fumble at all in public, your world might just fall apart. sleep doesn't come easy for you, but it eventually overpowers your anxiety.

sunlight creeps through your windows. despite your usual tendency to sleep in, your nerves shot you awake slightly earlier than that, and you tried your best to negate your shakiness through games and squeezing in any work projects you could make up - before a firm knock was at your apartment door.

you fly to the door and swing it open, excited to see the only man that gets your heart pumping. he's matching your energy with a cheesy grin, immediately charging at you to embrace you in a bear hug. his cologne makes you tingle as you breathe in his shirt fabric. when he pulls back, he chuckles to admire your attire. you're wearing your usual sweatpants, hoodie, and slippers.

"you clean up nice," he compliments you sarcastically. "it's nice to finally see you, honey." you shrug with a shy smile at his endless pet names. "let's get you into something more flattering, yeah?"

he encourages you to his car, it's one of his nice sports cars with his name printed across the seats. you always felt out of place in his luxurious lifestyle. however, even through the two hour car ride back to malibu, you found yourself familiar and comfortable alongside johnny.

"you didn't have to drive four hours just to see me," you insist quietly, voice muffled against the window as you admire the waters. "it's a lot of trouble for one night."

johnny seems to genuinely seem taken aback by your deprecating comment. he leans over and slides one hand on your knee, patting it gently.

"you know i'd do anything for you," he speaks in that dangerously low tone, stealing quick glances as he desperately tries to focus on the road. "i want you with me."

even after his comforting pat, his hand lingers for a moment, sliding up your thigh with feather touches. you cover your lips with your finger to muffle any whimpers that threatened to escape. you always hated how touchy he was, and by hated, you mean it turned you on embarrassingly easily. as the road straightens out, you realize he's staring directly at you with suspiciously blown out pupils, but snaps back into reality as quickly as you noticed. he clears his throat and removes his hand, settling them both back on the steering wheel.

perhaps he just missed me and wants to be closer, you thought. he's always clingy, he probably just... you're having a hard time justifying his needy glances. they looked off. it's been a stupidly long time since someone eyed you down like that.

after what felt like a thousand years, the city comes into view and johnny parks at a luxury outfit boutique. it's small, but the window mannequins alone make you swallow nervously.

it takes quite some time to decide on a dress, because you internally decide that every possible option is unflattering. each time johnny pulls a dress from the selection, you cringe and shake your head. the sleeves were either too long or too short, the skirt was too flowy or too loose, or the color wasn't quite right.

"how about i pick one for you?" johnny offers, a little exhausted at how difficult you were being. "you just go sit in the dressing room, i'll slide you a couple dresses and don't think too hard about this. you'll look great in anything, my dear."

you agreed with his idea. maybe it'd be best for the celebrity that's known to dress nice to put you in something that'll definitely turn heads and keep you confident. it was unfamiliar territory for you, after all, since the last flattering thing you wore was a one-piece swimsuit on a beach trip with your family.

after some time of fidgeting in the dressing room, johnny slides the curtain aside and greets you with a smile, his veiny arm holding about a dozen dresses. he's got his iconic shit-eating grin as it seems he has something devious in mind for you.

"don't look so afraid," johnny shrugs, nudging you playfully. "i'll treat you right, pinky promise." he holds up the first dress, a flowy one with off-the-shoulder sheer sleeves. it looks like something out of a fairytale, and you're reluctant to deny his suggestion when he's cheesing so damn hard. you smile back and shove him back behind the curtain, giving yourself space to change.

you slide into the dress, catching it on your hips momentarily but pulling it past without tearing it thankfully. when you pull it up to your chest, it takes quite a bit of tugging, seeing as the fabric isn't as stretchy compared to what you're used to. when you fall silent as you try to pull the dress up, johnny assumes you're ready and slides the curtain aside, stepping in eagerly.

"how's it-" he cuts himself off when he gets a good look at you. you're flushed from trying to squeeze into the fabric, and your breasts (that he didn't even know you had) were spilling out of the front. his lips get sucked inward as you witness the gears come to a screeching halt in his head. his eyes may have been hidden from his sunglasses, but you know for a fact he's checking you out. "i like that one." his voice is too monotonous for him to truly be emotionless. it's like it's taking every ounce of his being to be normal.

"i don't," you mumble, continuing your fruitless attempts much to johnny's delight as your boobs ripple with each pull. "i can't get the stupid zipper up in the back, either."

eager hands shoot out to you as johnny takes quick strides to stand behind you. your front is facing the mirror, your hands resting atop your breasts and eyes focused on the man behind you. when his head tilts town to get a good look at the zipper, you notice his eyes are far darker than the typical warm brown.

his hands fumble tremendously as he tries to keep his shit together. he uses one hand to keep the parts together and the other to get the zipper sliding.

the sudden jerk catches you off guard and you're far from balanced. thankfully, your palms press against the mirror to keep yourself upright, and johnny lurches forward as his grip is pulled with you. his hands fly to your waist to ensure he doesn't topple you over.

you would have gotten up like nothing happened, and maybe apologized, but during the scuffle you felt something hard and warm through your skirt. johnny's nose is tucked in the nape of your neck when you fully realize your predicament.

as you sputter out his name to call him out, you feel his lips smile against your back. his hands loosen momentarily, but don't pull away.

"uh, sorry, doll," he mumbles into your skin, not sounding all too apologetic. "pretty girls in dresses just... gets me goin'."

"i'm not pretty," you mutter, averting your gaze. johnny lifts his head and looks at your reflection incredulously.

"you're joking, right?" johnny replies, brows furrowed. "babe, look at yourself." he grabs your jaw from behind and angles your vision on your body. "i didn't know you were carrying all this. i almost want t'take you out and get you a whole new wardrobe just to get you out of those garbage bags you're always in. pardon my french doll, but you're fuckin' hot." as he speaks, his hand snakes down your throat, your shoulder, and then settling firmly on your hip, not even hiding the brief sweep he made against the flesh of your chest.

you're left staring in awe. he was always charming around you, but never outright flirting. you glance toward the curtain; what if someone heard all this? you swallow thickly, moving back to look at johnny apprehensively. he's biting his lower lip, suddenly thrusting more against your body, letting a shaky breath as his face is now buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to hold it together.

"you got me all riled up seeing you in that, you know," he warns you in a husky voice that dampens your panties. "so you can't say you aren't pretty. feel what you did to me." the air feels intensely different than it was when you guys were just friends. he's confessing something he'd implied to feel for quite some time, but you never envisioned the day it'd come to fruition. you can't really say you were complaining when he pulls your hips toward him, letting him use your ass to grind down on ever so slightly. your stillness throws him off for a moment, and he looks up at you through the mirror with concerned eyes. "you don't seem into this. i can stop."

"n-no!" you yelp out, sounding a little more desperate that you'd like to admit. "this is okay."

"just okay?"

"well, no, but - i'm sorry, i don't know what to say."

"do you want me to stop?"

"...no."

"good girl."

he presses a little harder against you, keeping you upright and stopping your knees from buckling with his rough hands. abruptly filled with a primal hunger, johnny tugs the long flowing skirt up in bunches, gripping it tightly to get a glorious view of your ass. this interaction was not prepared for, so you couldn't help but feel flustered when your boyshort panties are fully on display. johnny just chuckles to himself as he grabs a shameless handful of one of your asscheeks anyway, squeezing hard enough to leave red prints behind. you bite down on your lips to stop any noise from coming out, but a moan of surprise slips through.

johnny wraps one arm around your midsection for stability, and the other flies up to your lips to hold his palm over your mouth.

"if you want this, you're gonna stay quiet, is that clear?" he growls into your ear, head tilted toward you but eyes fixated on your reflection's eyes. all you can do is nod. "i'll show you how fuckin' pretty you are."

he slides your panties down with ease, expelling a shaky groan when he watches a trail of your wetness follow the fabric. his cock is swiftly freed from his dress pants and he slides his throbbing tip against your folds, creating a sopping sound to the trained ear. if the store was quiet enough, the entire building would know how soaked you were for your best friend. all you can do is whimper and gasp as your noises are muffled by his hand. johnny leans forward and gently shushes you, lips brushing against your ear.

"you can do it, princess," he assures you in that husky voice before holding intense eye contact in the mirror. "you look so good like this, don't you think?"

your pupils were blown out and your cheeks were stained a deep red as you're bent over for the actor. you didn't feel pretty, still. you felt... needy.

you pressed back against his cock, and it slips between your folds before catching on your aching hole, making you twitch. the sloppy friction makes johnny moan against your skin as he hungrily matches your movements. he slides his hand down and toys with your clit, wetting the area with your own juices which seems to be plentiful. he sticks two fingers inside, not bothering to ease you into the process at all. he needs you now, and if "now" is in a clothing store, then so be it. your pussy burns from the sudden stretching, but you take it because it makes him happy to see how eager you are for him.

"i should've put you in a dress sooner," he mutters, hazy eyes staring right through you as he relishes in the way your walls embrace his fingers. "you look beautiful, my dear. angelic. i wanna ruin you so bad, baby, but i can't. not here." his words already bring you closer, but as you feel the tension building inside he leaves you empty and sopping... but not for long.

his tip slides in with ease, and he has to bite down on your bare shoulder to stop himself from losing it entirely. it's the first time in a long time a pussy has been too good for him. he's stuck his dick anywhere and everywhere, but you take the cake. his bite deepens when he slowly but surely bottoms out, his own knees buckling at your gorgeous insides.

"mmf, so fucking good," he groans into your flesh, eyes clenching shut. "my pretty girl. all mine, yeah?" you nod lazily, too entranced in the fact that his cock is buried inside of you. you'd had sex before, but it had been quite some time. years. and his dick just felt impossibly big.

"i could stay like this forever," he mumbles, almost forgetting to thrust. you remind him quickly when you shake your ass needily. "ah, but i shouldn't. you deserve to feel good."

he pulls out slowly, admiring the thin coat of juice painting his shaft before thrusting back in. he's careful to move just enough to hit deep, but not enough to make the slapping sound too obvious.

"there you go," johnny encourages you as he starts to slowly pump into you. "you take me so well, so pretty with my dick buried in you."

you almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. just yesterday, he was your duo in your favorite game. and now, he was fucking into you in public. the thought makes you dizzy and you have a hard time keeping your head upright, that is, until johnny pulls your face up to the mirror again, still muffling you with his palm. you want to say you're the one enjoying it most, but that might be johnny. his once cocky demeanor is now down the drain as he fights for his life to not cum with every second of friction. you were just so good, he's already pussydrunk. he seems to be living in his own heaven when he lazily peppers kisses and licks all around your back, neck, and shoulders, breathy whimpers and moans warming your skin up nicely.

his thrusts grow increasingly sloppy as he completely loses himself against you. his eyes are swapping between you and him in the mirror as he admires your wetness dripping down your thighs and splattering against his own front. he would be mad you were ruining his nice clothes, but he's just going to buy another suit with you anyway.

"you wanna cum on me, doll?" he huffs into your ear, letting go of his fear of the slapping noise and now progressively slamming into you harder and harder. "let me feel it, baby, i'm real close."

johnny's arms readjust, one snaking under your armpit and over your shoulder, and the other rhythmically swirling circles against your clit. what once was hungry groans is now turning into needy whimpers from the both of you as you cum simultaneously. your lower half feels warm as he cums deep inside of you, watching it drip and splatter out with every finishing thrust. your vision becomes tunneled as you see stars, head thrown back as each throb from the orgasm makes you forget you're in public entirely.

he holds you both there for a moment, breathing in your damp skin. you both feel dazed, but incredibly satisfied. johnny kisses your cheek from behind, dancing his way to the corner of your mouth and then captures your lips in a messy, brief kiss.

"you know i didn't need a dress to want you that bad, right?" johnny asks against your lips, his fingers brushing against your bare thighs. "i really do think you're beautiful. always have."

you nod, taking in a quick inhale of breath to gather yourself. "i wasn't sure before."

"well, i hope you are now," johnny chuckles, and kisses you again. "at least, i hope so - hey, hey -" the embrace stops as he steps back and notices his semen dripping down your leg. "don't get that on the carpet. and definitely don't get that on the dress. we're buying that one for the red carpet-" he checks his watch. "-that we're late to. shit."

he doesn't really regret it.

[larsthefishoil]

As I'm actively reflecting on the new hbomberguy video, but more specifically James Somerton, certain things are clicking into place with resounding clarity.

I've watched Somerton's videos for years. At first I thought he was kinda overly dramatic, and had outdated stances on how little lgbtq+ was seen in modern day. He always seemed to talk like we are still living in the danger of the 80s with staight/cis people's apathy and hatred. In truth the phobias have just shifted in how they present and things have genuinely improved in a sense.

But the thing that is actually getting to me rn is the misogyny thing. I think he actually injected really shitty thoughts into my brain that I absorbed like a fucking kitchen sponge. He's protectiveness over queer people but specifically gay men from "prevented white women" actually got to me. For over a year, I was walking around occasionally thinking about how "women are sneaking BL manga into their bedrooms and grotesquely drooling."- im not citing someone theres quoteation marks cause its a dumb thought. But i thought this because that's how bad Somerton made it seem.

But the thing that got me out of that head space was this video by talistheintrovert.

https://youtube.com/@talistheintrovert?si=vmpEa_TPP2UE9eQk - here's the link to her homepage on YouTube.

https://youtu.be/08pCrSBw5EY?si=bECaT_xC16IfN5TI - vid about Good Omens

https://youtu.be/zzSlRZhS_qY?si=unQzSbCQUaTqhSbv - Heartstopper vs. Only Friends

sorry for the ugly link I'm on mobile.

I forget their pronouns so I'm using they/them but I might be wrong. I watched a lot of their videos all at once, so a lot of their ideas interlinked between videos to connect points. But they frequently talked about how straight and queer people interact with queer media and the complexities that unfold. Their underlying message was always that an individual's sexuality doesn't matter when interacting with media when it comes to gatekeeping who gets to appreciate queer content. Still most people consuming are queer people, but straight cis people also benefit and that's okay, it's great even.

Talistheintrovert shooed away icky feelings of straight women fetishizing queer men, which was a fear I got from James Somerton!

Idk this is a long post, but hbomberguy's ending soliloquy about trying to find happiness kinda reminds me of the many countless queer YouTube channels- big and small. Most of us aren't clawing for the position of top dog and like Somerton and seem a lot happier dispit of everything going on nowadays.

Anyways, stay safe, be accepting, and cite your sources or else hbomberguy will have to crawl out of whatever hole he hides in for the better part of each year and make a five hour long video about you :/

[backmaskcd]

♥ Jerico and Jessie 👀👀

If we kissed

[🖤] Quickie.

[🖤] Tongue.

[] Softly bite your lip.

[] We wouldn’t.

[] Long and meaningful.

[] Let’s hit up the bedroom.

[] You remember last time?

[] Awkward…

[] Lol no.

Would I go out with you?

[] Yes, definitely.

[] No.

[] I want to, but it wouldn’t work.

[] Maybe.

[] Nope, you’re like family.

[] You’re cute, but probably not.

[] Just simply not my type.

[] If I knew you better.

[] Already did.

[🖤] I don’t know.

If we took a picture together, we’d be…

[] Hugging each other.

[] Just chilling.

[🖤] Holding hands.

[] Kissing.

[🖤] Acting dumb.

[] Normal picture.

[] You holding me from behind.

You are…

[🖤] Cute/Pretty.

[] Good looking.

[] Sexy.

[] All of the above

You + me + room = …

[🖤] Movies.

[] Cuddling.

[🖤] Hanging out.

[] Kissing.

[🖤] Playing games.

[] Everything.

[] Wouldn’t let you in.

You should…

[🖤] Hit me up.

[] Be mine.

[] Marry me.

[] Reblog this so I can send you a heart.

[] be studying

If we got married, I’d…

[] Divorce you.

[] Make kids.

[] Take your money and bounce.

[🖤] Smash every day.

[] I would cheat on you.

[🖤] Be faithful.

[] Kill you in your sleep

[] We wouldn’t

[pumpkins-journal]

✮ When He Smiles ✮

gn!reader x choso (can be platonic or pre-relationship)

You're curious about how the man could be so expressive, and yet... (Pure fluff n vibes)

inspired by that one panel of embarrassed choso and the thought of him sending dog stickers w a straight face just tickles me

also posting this on mobile bc im impatient so sorry its a bit ugly looking aUGH i might fix it when i get home (update i fixed it a lil)

Choso was an enigma to you. When you talk to him he'd have an aura of indifference about everything around him. He always seemed so… detached. Even with pestering his dear half-brother to call him big brother, the only semblance of excitement he'd show was a slight pitch in tone laced with a firm insistence.

Which is why you'd be caught off guard when you’d start communicating via text. You’d double-take at the cute emojis attached to his messages, the occasional puppy stickers meeting your gaze. 

you: choso is that a dog choso: Yes. Yuji taught me how to send these stickers. Do you like them? you: yea i do! choso: I'm glad. I'll be sure to keep using them then. 😄 choso: He also taught me how emojis work.

It was especially curious when you’d find yourself looking over his shoulder, watching him respond to his little brother in the same manner- emojis, stickers and all- and your eyes would trail up to see that same deadpanned look on his face. Once he returned your gaze, you leaned back, face warm with embarrassment.

“Ah, sorry. Was I too close?” you asked. 

“No, you’re fine.” Choso shook his head before showing his screen. “Yuji was showing me a trailer for a movie he'd like to see. It's supposed to be about the lives of people, their relationship with the creatures in their world and teamwork.” You looked down at the screen, watching a scene of a young boy with a small yellow mouse-like creature.

“I think I may like this one. He reminds me of Yuji.”

You couldn't help but smile at this.

“You really love your brother, huh?”

“I do.” he lowered the phone as the video played. “I love all of my brothers equally and as deeply. As the oldest, it's my duty to protect them and care for them.”

“Hmm.” you mused as you sat next to him while he replied to the messages. You stared out into the fields before you and leaned back, the silence keeping you company.

“Hey, Choso?”

“Hm?”

You tapped your finger against the bench, trying to form the question in your head.

“I've noticed that you don't… really emote much? Not outside of fighting, I mean. Not that that's a bad thing! I was just curious.”

“Hm.”

The silence made you acutely aware of an uncomfortable pit in your stomach, already regretting asking a question that probably drew more attention to how different he was.

Something you already know he struggles with.

“Hey, uh, you don't have to answer–”

“I'm not the best at expressing myself.”

You paused, tilting your head at him in surprise. His face was still focused on the screen.

“Emotions are draining. It takes so much energy to smile, to cry, to laugh. I can feel it all, and I embrace it– it helps me feel the slightest bit human, but it's hard to convey that. I'm aware oftentimes it makes me come across as uncaring, so I'm thankful for learning about emojis and stickers. Hopefully they can get across my feelings better when I talk to others.”

He turned to you, head tilted ever so slightly.

“Sorry if you’ve been uncomfortable all this time.”

“What- no!” You waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal, I was just curious! It kinda makes sense in a way, lots of people are like that.”

“..Are they?” You didn't miss how his eyes widened just a touch at this. You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, some people can speak their mind, while others struggle. It's just a part of being human, I think. It doesn't make you weird or anything like that! Y'know, Nanami also tends to be straight faced, it adds to his vibe.”

“Yes, but I'm also aware that his 'vibes' make him incompatible outside of sorcery work. He doesn't seem to like to entertain Yuji or the other children when they're having fun, unlike Gojo.”

“What, do you wanna be like Gojo then?”

You watched as his face scrunched up in response, the line across his nose becoming uneven.

“I would rather be exorcised, actually.”

You paused at this before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Choso watched as joyful tears rolled down your cheeks, grin stretching from ear to ear. The mark on his nose settled into a warmer, more bubby form as a gentle smile appeared on his face.

A smile that you caught as you opened your eyes, your heart skipping a beat.

“..Hey, Choso?”

“Mh-hm?”

Your smile softened as well, cheeks tingling from your earlier outburst.

“You have a very handsome smile.”

The male tensed at this, covering his face as he turned away. You grinned at his bashfulness, nudging him slightly.

“Oh, c'mon! Can't take a compliment?” you teased, watching his ears turn a few shades darker. He tried to shoo you away with his free hand, only succeeding in making your playful bullying more insistent.

Expressionless or not, you knew that when Choso felt things, he felt them with everything he had.

That being said, you made sure to treasure the memory of his smile for the rest of your days, a rare treat for you and you only.

[wormshirt]

As someone who uses a mobility aid and has muscular tension that cause me general body and joint pain and stiffness from the hips down on both sides what would kill me with doctor who wouldn't be the running it'd be the fucking stairs. They don't always have stairs in doctor who but oh boy when they do. I can run super fast and then inevitably injure my hips and suffer through it and keep limping along through the pain but if it's a flight of stairs between me and safety I'm so dead. If I don't take those stairs 1 step at a time my knees WILL lock or my muscles will throw such a massive hissy fit that it'll take me TWICE the time it takes your average person to go up those stairs and I will be killed or kinapped or put through some strange and unusual scifi horror by step 3. The doctor and I (limping) run down 50000000 hallways and we reach the end of a hall with only a reasonably sized staircase on the other end of it and the doctor immediately starts vaulting up the steps 3 at a time until he turns around and notices that I have stopped completely at the bottom of the steps to stare at him blithely. He starts trying to get me to go up the stairs or ask what the hell I think I'm doing and I slowly lower myself back down to the ground and cross my arms over my chest and begin reciting funeral prayers with a serene smile. The big evil monster comes after me and I am eaten. Badly. The doctor yells NOOOOO really loud and cries a little maybe idk and then is emo about it for like half a season until they end up back by the staircase in a season finale or something and it's revealed that the stairs are magic stairs that preserve the conciousness of any ugly ass bitch who hates staircases enough and the doctor is implied to have know this all along. and the doctor gives me some heartbroken major depressive disorder poster child look and a little speech about how they "couldn't have come back here for blah blah excuses reasons" and I smile sweetly and say "why the fuck didn't you have an emergency exit strategy or some shit incase the guy who uses a fucking cane couldn't do some shit like go up stairs super fast because he uses a fucking cane. Hello. Not even mad. Are you stupid. You are a timelord. Your people let your gay ass fuck off to who knows where because you're the dumbest timelord ever and they couldn't stand your stupid ass. I can't believe I'm stuck on this gay ass space station with this lame ass death for all of eternity because you didn't think that the guy who struggles to go up stairs would struggle to go up stairs. You wanna know what the alien said to me before he ate me. He said hey that dude you're here with sucks so bad and is stupid and gay and lame as hell. And I would have said 'yeah lol' but then he ate me. He ate me because of stairs doctor. Stairs." And then I'd stay forever trapped with my soul in that staircase just so I could spend the rest of enternity sending spam calls and telemarketers to the tardis phone. The doctor's investigating something outside an alien bar somewhere and sees ads like XXX Brittany Wants To Spend a NIGHT With YOU Sexy! Hot Singles in your area! Call here for a night of FUN! HOT SINGLE Xxeksifloryean Milfs Looking For a MATE in GALAXIES NEAR YOU!!!!❤️❤️❤️ and softly puts a hand on the posters and goes "I'm sorry I couldn't save you....." five seconds later jerry from *TOTALLY REAL* intergalactic statefarm NOT A FAKE NOT A SCAM calls up the doctor on the TARDIS phone to ask about the doctor's insurance info. Somewhere I kick an ugly ass step on a stupid fucking staircase and break my ghost toe. I hop around and start swearing.

[magicalshopping]

Hiii sorry for the ugly ass post but I'm here to be a shill* for this neat lil rewards app that's been genuinely working for me.

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And here's just to show how frequently I was redeeming $5 giftcards with light grinding (only checking in to do daily tasks and random bonus tasks). The second pic is to show the frequency of which you'll receive units from grinding games.

So if you're on Android, you can download Mistplay here and receive 200 units PLUS you'll be rewarded with 100 bonus units for downloading through my link. <3

[racheyace]

Has Matt ever actually accidentally hurt Luke when he was shrunk before?

Another late reply to this ask! Again I'm sorry! But also your idea is the second runner up in the polls! So congratulations!

I'm really happy with how this story came out, also there is much angst! You've been warned!

Approx 3.3k words

Broken

“Luke! I hope you’ve already settled on the idea of takeout tonight cos I am so not in the mood to provide sustenance!” Matt groaned as he shut the apartment door behind him.

It had been a particularly taxing 12-hour shift for Matt, and he was honestly ready to just go to bed without dinner if there was nothing quick and easy to eat.

The apartment was quiet, but Matt hardly noticed being too tired to care much at the moment, he instead slid open the balcony door and promptly lit a cigarette, leaning heavily on the railing and fighting to keep his head held up straight.

He stood there for a long while, for once his mind was quiet, the sounds of the streets the only thing he could hear as the sunset for the day and he found himself admiring the orange and purple hues of the misty skyline. New York could be so very ugly sometimes, too busy, too loud, too many idiots and too much violence, but it could also be quite beautiful, Matt found himself smiling softly to himself and soaking in the view.

When he got back inside, he noticed with a little more alertness that Luke hadn’t said a word since he’d gotten home, which was strange.

Matt walked through to their small kitchen and turned the kettle on, ready to make himself a coffee and as he did so, he opened up his phone to look at the last messages he’d gotten from Luke that day.

Around mid-day Luke had sent a message to him reading:

‘Five hours to go! You got this!’

And then another message at 3:30pm reading:

‘At least you don’t have an hour of meetings this afternoon! What would you like for dinner?’

Matt had responded with:

‘So done with today! I’d be happy just to eat grass right now mooo! You choose.’

And then the last message from Luke was from only half an hour ago at 5:30pm:

‘Salad it is, your favourite! I’ll think of something, also the tv is doing weird shit again, I’ll sort it out tomorrow, see you when you get home’

“So weird, he should be here.” Matt said to himself as he added milk and sugar to his coffee.

Taking a sip, he headed for the balcony again, figuring that Luke may have gone out to get dinner or something from the shop. He paused at the sliding door though when another possibility entered his mind.

“Luke?” He called out again. “Are you small right now?”

Luke was usually pretty good about letting Matt know when he was small which honestly was not very often. Whatever Luke had on him at the time of the shift would shift with him, so if he was small Luke would normally have sent Matt a text to let him know. That, or he would call out, it could be dangerous for Luke when he was small, particularly if Matt didn’t know where he was.

There was still no reply.

Matt decided he needed to do some elimination, so first he headed down to the garage to see if Luke’s car was still there, which it was, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t gone out, there was a takeaway place down the street that Luke would walk to from here. Matt then pulled out his phone again to call his missing friend.

It rang and rang and then went to the message bank.

“I swear to god Luke, if you shrank without your phone on you, I’m gonna kill you, if I don’t step on you first of course, fuck!” Matt shivered at the thought.

It was a very real possibility and one that had given Matt nightmares in the past, not that the scenario had ever even come close to happening in reality, it still made Matt uncomfortable to think about.

Matt headed back upstairs to their apartment and dialled Luke’s number again, this time he could hear a ringing, though it was very faint, probably coming from a very small mobile phone. He tried to follow the sound but then it went to the message bank again and he groaned in frustration.

“Luke I’ve had the shittest day, could you just come out, I don’t have the energy for this stupid game of cat and mouse.” Matt said to the empty apartment, again there was no response.

With a hand slowly dragging down his tired face, he paused remembering that Luke would also shrink when he was sad, tired or scared. The last time Luke had shrunk when he was sad was when Luke and Jason had broken up, that time he’d also not called out or texted Matt that he was small. Matt had found him sobbing by the front door, he also hadn’t had to go searching for him because he was out in the open, but Luke was nowhere to be seen right now.

Matt realised that his last comment was probably kind of harsh, particularly if Luke was upset, but he had nothing to go on, just a tiny ringing and no Luke.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired, please call out or make a noise if you can, I’m starting to freak out over here.” Matt said more gently this time.

He walked over to the loungeroom, watching his step and sat down on the couch after also checking that it was Luke free, including checking under the cushions.

Matt then noticed the blue screen of death was on their tv and remembered that Luke had said something about the tv being broken again.

He stared at the awful blue screen for a few minutes, and then it struck him that Luke had said something about the tv in his last text.

Matt pulled out his phone once more and redialled Luke’s number, the faint ringing could be heard again and as Matt slowly moved closer to the entertainment unit, he could hear it getting louder.

“Luke?” Matt called out again after the phone went to voicemail once more.

“M-matt!?” Luke’s small voice called out, and Matt breathed a sigh of relief at the sound.

He’d finally gotten a response and he couldn’t believe what Luke was doing, clearly, he’d decided to try and fix the problematic television himself and most likely gotten himself stuck or something.

“Dude, are you seriously inside the Tv right now?” Matt asked incredulously.

“No I-I was in the wire box thing-the thing behind the tv and now….I’m not sure, I think I-fell.” Matt had to strain to hear him, he still sounded so far away.

Carefully he pulled the entertainment unit away from the wall and found the box that Luke had mentioned, a small white box with wires coming out of it that were then connected to the tv.

“Are you hurt?” Matt asked with his hands on the white box, ready to pull it from the wall but hesitating when he realised that he could potentially hurt Luke in the process.

“I-I think I was-electrocuted.” Came Luke’s muffled response.

“Jesus fucking Christ Luke.” Matt was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration with his idiotic roommate. “Are you still in the white box? What can you see?”

Turns out Matts long day as a paramedic was not yet over, he would have to pull a full search and rescue on his best friend, he’d pulled many people out of walls before, never one so small though.

“I’m not in the white box…” Luke began. “I’m in the wall-but I’m stuck-the wires are all around me-Matt I can’t move!”

“It’s alright Luke, I’ll get you out of there, just try not to move much, I’ll be back in a sec.” Matt moved away from the wall and went looking for some tools that he may need.

Once all the necessary equipment was acquired, he returned to the space behind the Tv, with a stethoscope in his ear, he placed the metal end to the wall and began to listen carefully.

“Marco.” Matt said, figuring lightening the mood would ease both of their nerves.

“Polo!” Luke called, his voice was a little further down the wall and Matt repositioned the stethoscope.

“Marco.”

“POLO!”

“Bingo.” Matt smiled, he pulled out a pencil and marked the spot on the wall.

Now if he was with his team, they’d discuss strategies, either cutting a hole from above or below, but Matt didn’t have a team so he would have to work out the best course of action himself.

If he cut from below, Luke could be stuck with a mess of wires tangled around his legs which would make it difficult to pull him downward from. If he cut from above Luke, then it was possible he’d be able to lift Luke back up the way he’d come. If worst came to worst, he’d have to cut some wires to free his small friend.

“Now, I’m going to cut a hole in the wall above you, it may be noisy, I’ll try to be quick, but I’ve only got our little handsaw to work with.” Matt gave a nervous chuckle and waited for Luke to respond.

“Okay!” Luke shouted in response to his friend’s plan.

Matt pushed the saw into the wall about 8 inches from the line that he’d marked, if he estimated correctly, he should make the hole a few inches above Luke’s head.

The handsaw was rusty and pretty much useless, so it took a good ten minutes for Matt to make a square big enough for even just his hand to fit through. With a grunt of effort Matt pulled the square piece of plaster out of the wall and then made to look inside but it was far to dark to make out anything except the wires directly behind the hole.

Matt grabbed his phone and held it in the hole with the camera on flash, the flash setting illuminated the space and the camera showed Matt what he was working with. Luke was indeed tangled and didn’t look like he was fairing too well, Matt thought he looked rather pale, his hair was a staticky mess, and he was indeed very tangled.

“Hey buddy.” Matt said in a quieter tone and smiled when Luke’s little blue eyes looked upward and squinted into the light.

Luke was very stuck, not only were his legs tangled as Matt had suspected but both his arms were looped by wires as well as his chest. Matt wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to get so tangled, it was actually quite impressive.

“You are pretty wedged in there. Are you in any pain? Do you have any burns?” Matt asked, still looking at the camera trying to see any physical injuries that Luke may have gotten.

“I’ve got a burn on my hand and that kinda hurts, I’m cold and sort of tingly but that’s probably from shock, right?” Luke’s blue eyes looked up toward the camera again after looking over his own body the best he could.

“Yeah, electrical shock, your gonna need to go to hospital when I figure out how to get you out of there.” Matt grumbled, his long day was going to turn into a long night so it seemed.

Matt picked up the pair of pliers and hesitated as he thought over how he was going to do this. There were five wires, three of them were wrapped around Luke in one way or another.

He could cut the two wires holding his arms but then he would still be stuck around his middle, or possibly fall further into the wall. If he cut one of the wires holding his arms, then Luke could hold onto the wire with his other hand when his midsection was freed.

Matt would then need to pull Luke out and hope that the upward movement would be enough to free his other hand in the process. It was all he could come up with for the moment and it would have to do, he needed to get Luke out of there and to a hospital as quickly as he could.

“Alright, I’ve got a plan.” Matt explained his idea to his friend and Luke agreed that it seemed like the best option.

Matt pinched the wire that held Luke’s injured hand and made the first cut, Luke gasped as the taught wire went limp and with a small shake it fell far below him. One done, one to go.

“Hold onto the wire now, I’ll try to be fast.” Matt warned, as he pinched the wire that was holding Luke’s midsection captive.

Luke winced as the wire tightened momentarily around his stomach, his knuckles white around the wire that held his left arm, and then his stomach was free as the second wire fell through the wall below him.

Wasting no time, Matt reached his hand in, having to go in blind for this part, his fingers extended toward Luke, only two of his fingers could fit far enough in and they bumped into the miniscule body, causing Luke to sway on the wire.

“Matt hurry!” Luke gasped, legs dangling and his palm becoming sweaty.

“Give me your hand.” Matt called down.

Luke’s free hand reach toward the large fingers and when he placed his palm on the pad of Matt’s middle finger, Matt pinched Luke’s hand between the two. This would be a judgment game, too much pressure and he would break Luke’s hand, too little pressure and Luke would fall.

“Does that feel secure?” Matt asked.

“A little tight but good, don’t let go!” Luke called upward.

“I’m gonna pull you up now, ready?” Matt felt small beads of sweat building on his own forehead, he shook the stray strands of blonde hair that had fallen out of his ponytail out of his eyes and focused.

“Yep!” Was Luke’s high pitched response.

Matt began to slowly pull his hand out of the wall, beads of sweat formed on his forehead at the painstaking pace and then his heart dropped into his stomach when he heard Luke cry out in pain. There was a small pop of muscle that Matt could feel had come from Luke and he stopped immediately, almost losing his grasp on his Luke’s hand.

“Are you okay? What happened? Is your hand free? Luke!?” Matt was hysterical, he couldn’t let go of Luke’s hand between his fingers for fear he would fall.

Matt’s mind was racing, had he pulled too hard? Too fast? Had he injured his best friend in an attempt to save him?

“Ahhh!” Luke cried out again in agony, before responding properly. “I-It’s free p-pull me out!” Luke’s voice was laced with pain and Matt feared the worst.

Finally, his fingers were free of the wall, and he pulled Luke out immediately laying him in his open palm. Luke clutched his left shoulder and was visibly shaking.

“M-my shoulder.” Luke cried, tears falling down his dusty cheeks.

“D-did I do that?” Matt asked in a state of shock and fear, his worst fear, that he would hurt his best friend when he was so small.

“I-I think its dislocated ahhhh” Luke winced touching his sore arm and immediately regretting it.

“I’m so sorry Luke, I didn’t mean to I-“

“It’s okay Matt, I’m okay, ahhhh, just-can-you put it back?” Luke’s eyes met his once more, Matt was shaking his head, his hands shaking and feeling as though he was only making things worse, he quickly lay Luke down on the carpeted floor.

“I-I can’t.” Matt was stunned, he looked at his hands as though they weren’t his own, his fingers trembled furiously.

“You’re a paramedic.” Luke said through gritted teeth.

Matt almost laughed, he didn’t feel like much of a paramedic right now. He was supposed to heal people and get them to help faster, he wasn’t supposed to injure his patients, how could he have done this to his best friend?

“I-I’m too big.” Matt sat down on the carpet, utterly at a loss as to what to do now, how could he help his friend without making everything worse or hurting him further?

Matt seemed to drift off into space, he could no longer hear Luke talking to him or trying to calm him down, everything was dull and foggy, the only thing he could hear was his heart beating in his ears and the tingling of his shaky body.

Perhaps his nightmare had come true, he had dreamt years ago that Luke had been hurt by his own monstrous hands. He could hear Luke’s small voice begging with him, pleading with him and yet there was nothing he could do, he was simply too big, too rough and too dangerous.

“MATT!” Luke was shouting in his face now, waving his hands in front of his face to try and snap his friend out of his trance.

“L-Luke?” Matt asked, his brain not fully comprehending that his friend was now his usual size and shaking his shoulders.

“H-how? What?” Matt didn’t even know what to think, Luke was normal sized again, he wasn’t gripping his shoulder in pain, the colour had returned to his face, and he seemed to be okay.

“Super healing remember?” Luke smiled at him, showing his hands to Matt and finding no evidence of an electrical burn, or a dislocated shoulder, it was as though nothing had happened at all.

Matt finally snapped out of his stupor and tackled Luke to the floor, hugging his friend furiously and cursing him for his stupidity for getting himself into that kind of situation.

When he calmed down, he released Luke and offered him a hand to help him up off the floor, he then made a beeline for the balcony, figuring he had earnt himself a cigarette after that stressful event. Still not fully believing that he hadn’t just imagined the whole thing, he could still feel the small pop through his fingers as he’d pulled Luke’s shoulder out of it’s socket.

The nausea still swimming in his stomach at the reality that he’d hurt his best friend, hurt Luke when he’d been at his most vulnerable.

“Are you sure you feel fine?” Matt asked once seated in his usual chair on the balcony, Luke sitting in the other chair beside him.

“Really, I’m okay, I’m sorry I scared you, it was stu-“

“I’m the one who should be sorry, I could have ripped your damned arm off!” Matt still couldn’t shake the queasiness in his stomach at what he’d done to his friend, he didn’t deserve to be forgiven so easily.

Luke had trusted him, and Matt had hurt him.

“Matt come on, don’t do this, this is my thing, I’m supposed to be the one riddled with self-loathing and unable to forgive myself, not you.” Luke began but Matt wasn’t listening, instead looking off into the distance and shaking his head as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“You’re the hero this time Matt, you saved me.” Luke insisted. “I can’t thank you enough honestly.”

Matt crushed out his cigarette and stood up.

“I’m gonna head to bed, we’ll need to call an actual electrician tomorrow, goodnight.” Matt brushed past him and made his way into his room before promptly closing the door and leaving Luke sitting there in the cool night air.

He wasn’t sure if he was mad at Luke, or angry with himself, all he knew right now was that he didn’t want to talk about it and he desperately needed some sleep. Perhaps forgiveness and closure would come in the morning, but he wasn’t going to find it that night.

Oh no! The tv is broken! Luke was broken! And now we’ve managed to break Matt! My poor boys! Who else agrees that Matt deserves a holiday, the poor boy needs a day at the spa.