#why does Ryan look high off his balls

[baura-bear]

We are so fucking back

[corroded-hellfire]

i love as you wish more than words can describe! and luke and ryan!! such sweet babies! i can't stop thinking about eddie and reader having their first fight (other than the conflict around the divorce n stuff) after things have gotten settled and the boys getting worried and scared they're going to break up just like mommy and daddy 🥺 xoxo

I’m so glad that you enjoy the series! @munson-blurbs and I had fun writing it—as we always do when we write together. I hope you like what we’ve come up with 🩵

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Babe?” you call out from the bedroom. You’ve searched your closet up and down, but you can’t find the dress you’re supposed to wear. There’s no answer so you repeat yourself a bit louder. “Babe?!”

“Ya,” Eddie says, not bothering to mute the living room TV. He has Ryan on one side of him and Luke on the other; the three of them are engrossed in an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants. 

You sigh impatiently, resting your hands on your hips. “Where did you put my dress?”

“Huh?” Eddie answers absently. You can hear SpongeBob’s obnoxious laughter echoing through the apartment, which only irritates you further. “What dress?”

Throwing a robe on, you angrily march out to him. “The dress you picked up from the dry cleaners.” You watch as his eyes widen, and his gaze drops to the ground. “Eddie, you did pick up my dress from the dry cleaners, right?”

Eddie scrambles to his feet, slipping into his sneakers and grabbing his keys. “Shit, I’ll go get it right now.”

“It’s Sunday,” you mutter through gritted teeth, determined to keep your cool in front of the kids. “They’re closed on Sundays. That’s why I asked you to pick it up yesterday.”

“Sorry, baby,” he shrugs, “but you have a bunch of others, yeah? You can wear one of those.” He slides off his shoes and plops back onto the couch. “Crisis averted.”

Fuming, you grab the remote from the coffee table and press the power button, watching the colorful backdrop of Bikini Bottom fade to black. Ignoring Luke and Ryan’s disappointed groans, you turn to your boyfriend, lips pressed into a tight line. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” When he continues sitting there, a blank stare on his face, you elaborate. “In the room, please?”

It finally clicks in Eddie’s mind that you’re upset, and he slowly rises from the couch. The two of you are watching one another so you miss the look that the boys share on the couch. You turn around and stalk back into the bedroom. Eddie’s right on your heels and closes the door behind you. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie says. “I forgot to swing by yesterday, but what’s the big deal? Why can’t you just find something else to wear?”

“That’s not the point, Eddie,” you say with a sigh. “I asked you specifically to pick this dress up for me and you didn’t.”

“Babe, it wasn’t intentional, I forgot.” He walks over and sits on the foot of the bed. 

“How does that make it any better?” you ask, voice rising. “When you ask me to do something, I do it. How am I supposed to feel when you forget about me?”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie says with a harsh bark of laughter. “I didn’t forget about you. I forgot to stop at the dry cleaners. While I was out running a million other different errands.”

“A million?” you snap. “You went to the grocery store and the bank! And the dry cleaners is next to the supermarket!”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie huffs, pushing himself off the bed. He stomps over to the closet and yanks it open. He dramatically gestures to all the other dresses you have hanging in there. “Are none of these suitable for you, Your Highness? In my humble opinion, any of these would be fine. Unless you think someone is going to show up to the church in a ball gown.”

“Maybe I won’t go at all then,” you harrumph, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. It’s childish and petty, but you’re too annoyed to care. 

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’ll make sure to tell Theo that you missed his first communion because you had a wardrobe emergency.” He pronounces the last two words in a nasal, high-pitched tone. 

“Go right ahead and—” you start to retort, but you’re cut off by the sound of mumbling outside the door. 

“—get divorced?” You hear Luke’s tiny voice, laced with worry. 

“They have to be married to get divorced,” Ryan’s telling him. “They’re just gonna break up.”

“Shit,” Eddie breathes out, raking his fingers through his hair. “Didn’t know they were listening.” He opens the door and gives them a sheepish look. “Guys? You okay?”

“Please don’t break up!” Luke cries out, flinging himself into his dad’s legs. When he pulls back, you can see that his eyes are misty with the prospect of tears. 

Ryan, as usual, is a bit more reserved than his brother, but you can tell that he’s nervous, too. His silence speaks volumes as he looks at you through his long lashes. 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie murmurs, crouching down so he’s closer to their level. “No one’s breaking up, okay?”

“Then why were you fighting?” Luke asks, wiping at his cheeks. “You and Mom used to fight an’ then you got divorced.”

You sit on the ground, tucking your legs under you. “Sometimes, grown-ups fight. Even when they love each other. But it doesn’t mean they’ll break up.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “And we love each other very, very much. Almost as much as we love you two little eavesdroppers.” This elicits a giggle from Luke and a smile from Ryan. 

“How do you know if it’s a ‘love’ fight or a ‘break up’ fight?” the older boy pipes up. 

“Well, when you love someone, you can get frustrated with them or upset with them,” you explain, “but you take time to cool off so you can talk it out calmly later. That’s the difference; with a break up fight, you don’t wanna work it out.”

“Do you wanna work it out?” Ryan asks softly. 

You nod. “Of course. We’re not going to break up over a silly mistake.” You watch as he visibly relaxes, and you turn towards Eddie. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. And I didn’t have to be so dramatic about the whole thing, either.” You’re cringing internally just thinking about your empty threat not to go to the communion. 

“I’m sorry, too.” He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “I said I would do you a favor and I didn’t do it. I’d be mad, too.” He offers you a small smile. “Can we kiss and make up?”

“Eww!” Luke scrunches his nose and sticks out his tongue. “Daddy, you’re gonna get cooties!”

Eddie laughs, ruffling his son’s hair. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I got my cooties shot.” He leans in and kisses you with an exaggerated mwah! “Oh, no!” he says suddenly, shaking all of his limbs as though they’re moving uncontrollably. “The shot must’ve worn off. I’ve…I’ve been cootified!”

Ryan and Luke run away from him as he makes grabby hands, chasing them around the apartment. When the boys run by you, you block their path and hold them captive. “I’ve got ‘em!” you proudly announce. “I’ve kidnapped the fresh meat, King Cootie.”

Eddie bows in front of you, where his sons are wriggling in your grasp. “Excellent teamwork, my Queen.” He reaches out and tickles them until they’re complaining that they can’t breathe. 

“Okay, Cootie Family; let’s get ready,” he says. “Boys, nice clothes, please. Ryan, please make sure your brother isn’t wearing anything with a cartoon on it.”

Everyone goes to their rooms to get dressed, and Eddie sneaks up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist. “Seeing as you’ve already infected me with your cooties, can I have another kiss?” he mumbles into your ear. 

“I think that can be arranged, you nasty cootie monster,” you tease. 

“That’s King Cootie Monster to you.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ryan!Ken with a princess!Barbie reader maybe? Please?

Oh this is such a cute idea <3

......

In Barbieland, princesses were usually seen as figures of fiction in movies and books.

But you're a very real doll who lived on the outskirts of town, in a beautiful castle with a few Ken Knights (Kenights?) at your service and talking animals you befriended.

You enjoyed their company, although you do love seeing the faces of the other Barbies and Kens.

In fact, you hoped to see them more often.

So one day, you announced a ball at your palace, having invitations delivered to every dreamhouse.

You weren't sure if anybody would show up. You did live far, far away, after all...

And yet, so many Barbies came in droves, wearing their best dresses and tiaras, accompanied by their Kens who wore dashing outfits fitting for the fantasy setting you provided.

Soon the royal ball was in full swing, and everyone was having a grand time.

Well, everyone except....for a certain blond Ken.

You noticed this one in particular was following his Barbie around like a lost puppy.

Of all the Kens, he looked the most handsome in your eyes. His hair, outfit, and features were flawless in every way.

Why, you would've easily mistaken him for a prince!

Yet he was behaving more like a pauper at this rate, as he kept trying dance with her, only to be brushed off as she was pulled out of his reach by one of her friends.

Obviously, you believed in Barbies valuing friendships over relationships, although this was rather...difficult to watch.

Eventually he gave up, standing alone in the corner with an empty plastic glass in-hand, looking forlorn as everyone else danced to the gentle music.

You frowned at this display, not wanting anybody to feel lonely in your palace.

So you decided to go over to him.

"You look lonesome, dear Ken...what's wrong?"

At first, he doesn't realize you're actually talking to him...but when he does, he blushes and fumbles as he tries to respectfully greet you.

"O-Oh I'm...I'm good, your Highness. Wonderful ball, you're hosting, by the way." He kisses your hand, although when he looks up, the sadness in his eyes is even more apparent up-close.

"Now..you know better than to lie to a princess." You lightly tease. "Where's your date? Isn't that her over there?"

Seeing you gesture to Stereotypical Barbie, his confident front falters, but the second you look back at him, he pretends to be surprised.

"Oh there she is!! I was worried I lost her." He waves, hoping she'd look over at him just once.

Yet she didn't even spare him a glance, and he puts his hand down, becoming very upset as he notices Simu!Ken asking her for a dance.

Even though he was turned down, too, it still stung like a b-

"Would you care for a dance, Ken?"

The question turns his whole mood around, as he gawks at you, unable to believe his own ears. "Y-You're asking...me?"

"Well..it should be the man who asks the lady, traditionally speaking." You chuckle. "But since you only know Beach, I'll give you another chance."

"....o-oh right. Yes. Okay-" He clears his throat, setting aside his cup before he offers his hand to you, gazing into your eyes with renewed confidence. "May I have this dance, Princess Barbie?"

You pretend to swoon, smiling. "I thought you'd never ask."

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

my opinions and comparisons of the heathers musicals (except it’s only the west end and off broadway versions) that nobody asked for (SURPRISE I’m a musical person):

I prefer the acting of the off broadway version, I think Barrett Wilbert Weed is a fantastic Veronica and Dan Domenech’s J.D is very angry (more towards the end). I do think Jamie Muscato plays a perfect ‘kicked puppy who’s also a psychopath’ J.D and Carrie Hope Fletcher’s chemistry with him as Veronica shows the dynamic between them, how she thinks she can fix him and her eventual reluctance to accept his behavior but still wanting to believe he can be a good person

I like Carrie Hope Fletcher’s Dead Girl Walking and I think the way Jamie as J.D flinches whenever she touches him adds another layer to his character

Dan Domenech’s performance of Freeze Your Brain, specifically how he sings ‘when that voice in your head says you’re better off dead don’t open a vein’ and ‘you’re planning a future Veronica sawyer, you’ll go to some college and marry a lawyer’ scratches my brain, Meant To Be Yours is unhinged, 10/10, the way he goes from screaming ‘VERONICA’ to a hurt ‘open the door please’ is wonderful no notes

Jamie Muscato, I’ll say it again he plays the part of kicked puppy perfectly, his accent in Freeze Your Brain adds a lot to the song. His Meant To Be is very angry, the way he goes from screaming to begging her to open the door and asking to stop fighting almost like it’s just a regular couples argument and not about his murderous tendencies, again 10/10

Both versions of the heathers are good but I like the off broadway version a bit more, the Heathers look more like high school bullies which contrasts with J.D’s thoughts of them being the worst of the worst assholes,

If I had to pick between Your Welcome on west end or Blue Balls off broadway I’d pick Your Welcome, idk why I felt the need to include this but I think West End does it better

I really like I Say No in the west end version because it shows how Veronica realizes and accepts that she can’t fix J.D, she realizes that he needs help she can’t provide and that it’s not her responsibility to fix him. She sees through the fantasy of dating him like a regular 17 year old and tries to distance herself.

I will admit I am a little biased because I watched the off broadway version first but I think it’s really good and totally cool, the West End is good too and all of this was really for nothing

and of course I can’t make a Heathers musical post without at least mentioning Ryan McCartan’s original J.D, shout out that guy

[generalwildcat]

My friend and I are having a High School Musical marathon before we go to work and here are some of the highlights from our commentary:

•If you don't sing along to every song in this movie you're a dirty liar.

•It's so funny how Chad and Taylor hate each other now and then get together later.

•Darbus takes away their cell phones just for class to end 5 minutes later.

•Getcha Head in the Game is so dramatic.

•THE MOUNTING EVILS OF CELL PHONES.

•WHAT THE HECK ARE THOSE TWO DOING IN A TREE?

•"Young men in baggy shorts bro."

•WHAT TEAM???

•Friend: He just wanted his dad to be encouraging like "try new things, son." Me: How did that go? Friend: He just wants to play some ball.

•Friend: Yo they have auto mechanics? How big is this school?? Me: It's technically two schools.

•Friend during auditions: Oh god help help help He's butchering it Oh no So opera.... Yes girl The soft scoff Not ballet bro.... Oh my god the cringe "go see the counselor" that's so bad She forgot the words.... No!

•Creme brulee!

•My friend's said "Twinkle Town" in a difference voice every time it's mentioned.

•"Did you ever feel like there's this whole other person inside of you just looking for a way to come out?" That's such a gay question.

•"EVAPORATE TALL PERSON!" Friend: That is so relatable. "Tall person".

•Are they both practicing in a bathroom? We're breaking free on a toilet...

•HOW DID SHE NOT SEE HER?? THAT DOES NOT MAKE MOVIE SENSE. WHAT? That's so funny bro

•Troy's too busy hiding....singing...being Troy...hiding in a toilet...painting....

•My friend wants to go to Twinkle Towne.

•This librarian is gonna kick his butt.

•They don't even realize the opposite is happening right now!

•We're not Charlie's Angel's.... Bro! But they are really adorable.

•I'll be the Slamma Jamma thank you very much.

•My dog has barked during most of Chad's scenes.... Coincidence? Or why does he not like Chad?

•BRO WHAT ARE YOU.... Ugh Troy is such a hobo. Sneaking in the backyard, climbing up the ladder....

•"I climbed up cause I'm weird and I really like you."

•He's trying to spell it out.... Bro no! It's fine. He's fine. "Dra-may"...at least he tried.

•Men don't hug. That's how we show affection, slapping legs!

•Friend: Ok so there's East High and West High.... What happened to North and South High? Me: /proceeds to explain the plot of season 2 of High School Musical The Musical The Series

•They look so disappointed that they won.

•Friend: I can't wait to see where this goes with all the drama.

•He's got the hat of shame.

•No more waking up at 6 am.... I actually did wake up at 6 am for high school. My friend woke up at 5:30 am.

•Oh my god just rolls on the dirty floor.... Cool.

•Me: Quick what else could T possibly stand for? One of us said Tacos, the other said Titties

•Scheming! Evil scheming! Scheming! SCHEMING!

•Sharpay's mom needs all the yoga.

•NAMASTE!!!

•Oh my god Jason, no! No!

•Me: You can see Troy's underwear Friends: Dude! Troy! Fix your underwear! We can see it as you're flexing on the piano!

•How long are they singing for everyone to hear them and come in? They're gonna get in so much trouble.

•And it's brought us here because.... "I need new pants"

•You gotta be kidding, me a helicopter?? Let's just show off our wealth here!

•That's my girl, you almost hit that kid!

•Just a few words to describe Humu Humu.... Cringiest Bro What is happening He is so sad and broody What is even At least 10 oh my god's

•Cool balls oh my god

•He says it with such a stone face. "Come scrimmage with us. We're getting paid to do this."

•I'm so mad I'm gonna take your dinner!

•Friend: I love I Don't Dance Me: The internet says it's Chad and Ryan being gay for each other Friend: I love that Me: It was confirmed that Ryan is gay Me: I think Chad's bi

•Troy is so jealous he doesn't see that Ryan doesn't even like Gabriella that way and he's just so starved for attention and encouragement...and also gay.

•Me: You have air! You're outside! Friend: He needs more air! Non-singing air!

•He's shirtless again.

•It's a me, Troy Bolton! I'm Italian now.

•The most angiest song that ever angsted in the history of angst

•Should I question every movie I make with my cool Italian shoes?

•Oh my god that's concerning. I am SCARED of that sock puppet.

•We may have proceeded to spend the entirety of Everyday coming up with more reasons Gabriella would be wearing the T necklace again.... Tulips. Tea. Thread. Triceratops. Toes. Toothbrushes. Toothpaste. Twinkle toes. Twinkle Towne. Tennis. T-shirts. Trampoline. Tambourine. Texas. Tuscany. And, of course, tacos and titties (both, not one. It has to be both tacos AND titties).

•My ball! You can't have it!

•Friend: So top secret where they can all see him. Where else does he go to hide? Me: What else is he hiding? Friend: .... Friend: .... Friend: I can't say, it's not cannon. Friend: /cough cough/ Chad. Friend: Or maybe he REALLY likes Zeke's creme brulee.

•I am Robo Rob don't break me.

•That pointer...whack everything! Whack EVERYTHING! Whack Chad next!

•Girl haven't you learned anything from the past two movies?

•If my truck falls apart I'm blaming you...that's so romantic.

•For some reason my friend heard "corsages" and thought they said "croissants" so now the line is "hey, makeovers, croissantses..." Honestly I kinda prefer that over the expected cis-heteronormativity of this scene (still love the movies but it really could be so much gayer)

•What is she gonna do? Oooooooooh she's a spy

•He just trusts a couple of teenagers to lock up a business for him.

•BABY TROY AND CHAD!!!

•What are the odds Taylor's self projecting onto Gabriella because she's thinking the same thing about Chad?

•Wow Sharpay.... Got those claws. Causing all this trouble in all these movies. She's such a villain, why? But also not a villain.

•Do these people not realize you can write letters? They don't have to break up. These movies are so dramatic! They have letters, they have email, they have computers.... They have phones, they can text! Long distant texting, they can do that. They can do phone calls at night. These movies don't understand you can still be connected to people, you can make that effort. But they make everything so damn final. Epic sigh.

•Now he's just gonna break into school in the middle of the night in the middle of a thunderstorm with his hoodie being all dark and broody and to be dramatic. This is legal.

•And he's shirtless again. AGAIN!

•The OTHER most angsty song in the history of angst that has ever angsted

•THAT'S THE BEST PART, SHE'S JUST THERE TAKING IT ALL IN!

•My dog also proceeded to bark some more with Darbus trying to give Troy advice

•GIRL! Girl. GIRL! You can write letters! Oh my god, girl!

•Just chilling in a tree. Bro!

•Do any of them realize they kinda screwed Sharpay over for the chance to get that scholarship?

•She's done.

•Just climb on everything.

•Oh my god that is revenge in her eyes.... SHE'S BACK!

•Actual hugging! A family that hugs! Not a knee slap! Actual hug!

•THE PUPPY GOT HIS OWN SEAT!

•Iconic.

[jrpneblog]

The big games start now

With Coventry, Hull and Southampton being the next three fixtures for North End it is fair to say that the big games start on Friday night at the CBS Stadium. All three teams sit above North End although you might well say that Southampton are out of sight as far as we are concerned. However Coventry and Hull are right in the mix with us and Ryan Lowe will be all too aware of that as he takes his side to the Midlands for a 7.45ko. The trip to Coventry comes on the back of the 2-2 draw against Blackburn Rovers last Saturday which was a game that left me both disappointed and relieved. Two down after twenty five minutes does not bode well but North End showed their fighting qualities and were certainly well worth the point at the end of the day.

The Lancashire derby was played out in front of a 20,924 crowd with North Ends highest home attendance of the season, 16,202, inside Deepdale. North End did not start the game well and in under ten minutes were a goal down to Szmodics. When Gallagher made it two after twenty five minutes the North End fans fell silent on what looked like being one of those afternoons. To their credit North End fought their way back before the interval, firstly through a super strike from Robbie Brady on the right hand side and then just before the interval Emil Riis popped up to tap home the equaliser and send North End into the break in the ascendancy. After half time I thought we always looked the team more likely to score but we just couldn`t put that final quality ball into the box for the forwards to latch on to. In the end a draw was probably the right result but North End will be ruing those defensive lapses early in the game which may well have cost them two points.

On Friday we travel to Coventry City to take on Mark Robins men in what is a crunch encounter in the race to snatch a play off place. Hull`s unexpected win at Southampton means we are now five points behind the play off places with thirteen games to go. The game against the Sky Blues has been changed due to their involvement in the FA Cup next Monday evening against Maidstone, a game that is live on television hence the date change for our fixture. Coventry sit two points above North End having played the same games and they have collected one less point than North End (29) at home this season. Their home record reads played sixteen, won seven, drawn eight and lost just one on their own patch. Clearly they are a tough team to beat at home this season but North End will not be afraid to take the game to them. A win for North End would be a great result and would take us above Coventry and put pressure on the teams above us who are playing on Saturday. I hope the boys have rested well this week and are raring to go for this big game on Friday evening.

And finally this week:- on Tuesday afternoon I made the journey to Bower Field, home of Stalybridge Celtic, to watch North End reserves play Barrow reserves. Dont ask me why Barrow play their reserve fixtures 108 miles away from Holker Street because I dont know the answer! It was a very young North End side playing against, mostly, seasoned professionals. The lads went down 0-3 but played some excellent football on a poor surface against a much older team. No wonder they are top of their Alliance League on a Saturday morning and lets just hope some of these lads come through and make the first team.

.

MATCH PREDICTION -

COVENTRY CITY (A) League - Score Draw

.

JR`s HIGH FIVES

West Brom to beat Hull 9/5

A £5 Stake returns £14.00 on bet365

SEASONS STATS

Returns £96.00 Stake £145.00

Percentage profit+/-loss - 33.79%

Predictions 29 won 9 lost 20

[namor-shuri]

Essay subject: “Ryan Coogler intended for the fight scene on the deserted island in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever to be a subliminal sex scene and why this wasn’t Namor and Shuri’s first time getting freaky deaky”

“In this essay, I will…”

- - - - - - - - - o - - - - - - - - -

Things start off strong with Namor catching Shuri off guard and attacking from above. He then swoops her up and throws her over his shoulder with ease [like he’s thrown her over his shoulder countless times before??]. Once they get high in the sky, he slowly starts to descend to the ground with her in this position as she tries to fight him off:

We see this shot where the camera is an aerial view of Namor on top of Shuri. Hmmm….

[SPEAKING OF CAMERA ANGLES? OHHH??]

We then see this angle of Namor [once again on top of Shuri] slamming Shuri into the ground while he throws blow after blow. She basically succumbs to his wrath, not covering her face or anything. Just fish balls [yum] in her face [SHURI DO SOMETHING!!]

But then she DOES and starts giving this man all she’s got. She clips baby boy’s wings and then the tides begin to turn [aka they switch sex positions]

Namor sits there questioning his life choices [while secretly being turned on from the adrenaline and fear of death going straight to his CAWK] Then he gets up and shit gets ruthless:

“Can I hear a little commotion for the back muscles?” *audience applause* “Now let’s hear it for the BROADNESS!” *louder applause and whistles*

This slow mo shot was everything….moving on…

They continue to be rough with one another until Namor backs Shuri up into a rock formation WHERE SHURI PROCEEDS TO CLAW HIS BACK AND HIDE HER FACE IN HIS SHOULDER almost as if they’ve done this before *cough* under different *cough* circumstances *cough* *bombastic side eye*

Okay pause: Lets be real, this shot was the moment you started to question whether this was a “fight” between two “enemies”. It literally felt like that moment when you were younger and were watching a movie with your parents and then out of nowhere a sex/intimate scene came on and you just sat there acting like you weren’t watching what you were watching. You wanted to dissolve into your seat out of shear confusion and embarrassment. Yeah that was me in the movie theater clutching my pearls.

Any who, Shuri clings to her man Namor while he pins her down and gives her 5 star D till boom…. they both CLIMAX at the same time [honestly, goals]:

[Clearly the explosion represented this. What else was it suppose to be?? They both c*m near a PHALLIC rock formation, like PLS. I see you Ryan!]

They are spent but Shuri’s appetite is insatiable and her stamina keeps her coming back for more [aka round 2]:

Namor sluttily fights for his life and crawls away as Shuri seductively waltzes on over towards him in a blind rage. He grabs the nearest weapon in the sand aka a spear aka HIS SYMBOLIC CAWK and f*cks rams it into her as he pins her to another rock [What’s up with all of this pinning Ryan HUH??]

You clocked that cheeky smile too right??

After he penetrates stabs her, he falls back and looks up at Shuri memorizing her body for his mural fanart while catching his breath. He musters the strength to say “It could have been different” [which told me EVERYTHING I needed to know about the nature of their *cough* relationship *sips tea while smirking*]

We see Namor struggle to get up and stumble towards the shore in pursuit of water from exhaustion of [redacted]. Shuri cuts herself free and jumps over Namor like “surprise motherf*cker” and lands in front of him:

Namor is shook that she’s not appeased yet but he never fails to satisfy his brat. His Princess c*ms first!

Shuri continues to play coy and seduce him by romantically frying Namor alive with her ship’s explosion [another climax? I think yes]. She flips him over to cook her fillet evenly on both sides and puts a spear to his throat [they enjoy knife play and other kinky shit like that OBVIOUSLY]. Shuri towers over him, admiring Namor’s body in all of its glory [this is the 3rd time they switch roles. Dom Shuri comes out]

Namor looks up at her in awe as Shuri bends down and proceeds to *beep* on his *beep* while *BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPP*

After they both finish for the third time, they decide to stop playing with one another’s [redacted] and go back to their people to make sure Wakanda hasn’t gone extinct in the middle of their sexy commercial break. But first, let’s address the elephant in the room:

“Thank you for attending my Ted Talk…”

- - - - - - - - - o - - - - - - - - -

Outtake:

Shuri is still getting the hang of her *ahem* toys. Everything takes practice…

yeah 🤭

[ashintheairlikesnow]

We Keep Going, That’s All

@whimpers-and-whumpers , this is for you. Hope your surgery goes well today!

CW: Aftermath of near-death, hospital whump, recovery whump, survivor's guilt, alcohol use, referenced drug use

Ryan shows up to the hospital with Coke bottles full of liquid that absolutely is not Coke - or not much of it, anyway - and Nate doesn't refuse the gift.

He twists off the plastic cap and takes a drink, wincing at the burn down his throat. "Jesus, Ryan, this is m-m-more Jack than Coke."

"Yeah, well. Figured we could use some relaxing." Ryan gives him a slight smile, and the bruising that's been along his jaw - the obvious press of fingers - is finally starting to fade. Off-white bandages ring his neck, hiding from direct view the deep, slowly healing gashes rubbed in by the iron collar he'd worn for a year.

There are other wounds, Nate knows, underneath the lightly-draped black t-shirt Ryan wears, under his effortlessly casual, perfectly-on-trend jeans.

There are deeper wounds still entirely underneath his skin, inside his head. Nate knows those even better. He doesn't begrudge Ryan the need to find some way to fuzz out the edges of what must be written in stark, bright blood in his memory.

Nate spent a year and a half doing the same, after all, before Bram came back for Danny again.

"How is he?" Ryan asks, settling into a hard wooden chair with plastic back and cushion in a dull pastel mauve. "Any different?”

"Then y-yesterday?" Nate exhales, slowly, rubbing at his unshaven jaw. The stubble prickles his fingertips, itches a little as it grows in. There's a razor in the private room's little bathroom, but he doesn't have the energy to use it. All of Nate's energy now is focused entirely around staying right here, being right here, for the rare moments that Danny is both awake and himself.

"Yesterday wasn't... great.”

"No, it wasn't." Nate sighs, leaning over in the chair he sits in, next to Ryan, reaching out with his good left hand to gently nudge a bit of wavy red away from over Danny's face.

The love of his life - the man he's killed for, twice, and would kill for again - lays on his stomach with his head turned to one side. The hospital blanket is pulled up nearly to his chin, hiding from view the fact that nearly all of Danny seems made of bandages these days, bandages and tubes and wires. He breathes slowly, a drugged deep sleep to let his body rest and try desperately to heal itself around the nearly-fatal place the knife went into his back.

He sleeps, more than he's awake. But Nate makes sure that when his eyes open, someone is here for him, every single time.

"Today has been a little b-better, I think," Nate says after a moment's though. He brushes a crumb from the corner of Danny's mouth. "He ate a l-little, this morning. Just Jell-O and a little bit of cereal, but...”

"But something." Ryan nods, takes another drink, looks out the window. Outside, the day is bright and sunny, with a cloudless blue sky. The courtyard below is full of visiting families and patients taking walks through the landscaped flowers, all of them in brilliant bloom. "Have you even left this room since we got here?”

"No." Nate doesn't bother to lie.

Ryan looks over at him, and smiles very slightly. "Remind me to bring you by some multivitamins do you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency.”

"I'm f-fine." Nate takes another drink, feels the warmth slowly spreading through his shoulders, relaxing the knots and tension that have been slowly building day by day. The 'bed' he has here is just a visitor's couch built into the wall, lumpy and hard, with exactly one flat pillow with a scratchy pillowcase. But he'd rather be here than anywhere else. He'll be here for every single second Danny needs him. "I eat oranges for breakfast every d-d-day. No sc-... sc-... scurvy for me.”

"Didn't we joke about scurvy once?" Ryan asks, slightly faintly, looking up at the ceiling. "After Danny came home the first time?”

"M-Maybe. Don't remember. Why do you c-care if I feel good, anyway?”

“My brother can’t fuss over you right now,” Ryan says with a casual shrug. “So someone has to. He’ll never let me live it down if anything happened to you while he’s here. I’ll get chewed out if you get so much as a headcold and we both know it.”

“I d-doubt-”

Danny shifts a little and both men go silent, watching him move in the bed - just an inch or so to the right, his eyes tightly closed, body tensing as even the slightest movement brings a wash of pain.

"It's okay," Nate whispers, and Danny's eyelids flicker, slowly open. The blue in them is hazy and clouded, but not empty. This time, at least, it's Danny who is looking at him, and not the other one, the one that Nate knows only as someone else. The one who runs Danny's body when Danny can't do it any longer.

"Hey," Danny says, in a hoarse whisper. He tries for a smile, and it's faded and wobbly, but it's there. Then he lifts his head a little, looking over to see Ryan. "Oh, you're both... here. How long was I asleep?”

"Four hours or s-s-so," Nate says, standing up - ignoring the twinge of pain in his bad knee - and moving the pillow under Danny's head to still support him even as he moves. A hint of freckled shoulder shows, with its swirling trace of scars from Bram's knife. There's a star carved into the back of his left shoulder that Nate did, at Bram's command, once.

Ryan's gaze be damned, Nate leans over to kiss it, and to kiss one by one the carved letters that are still there, faded, in the back of Danny's neck. A. D. N.

He tries not to feel the guilt that twists in him at the ownership Bram had meant to make obvious, there. His own first initial with Bram's initials, his own... his own culpability.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks, leaning over close to Danny. 

Danny’s nose wrinkles. “You smell like a liquor store.”

“Yeah, well. When your big brother scares the shit out of you by getting himself stabbed almost to death because of you, maybe you need a little pick-me-up now and then.” Ryan manages a half-cocked smile, but it’s fragile, and they both know it.

With a hiss of pain, Danny moves his hand up the bed, offering it to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation, leaning over so his forehead rests gently against Danny’s. 

“I’m okay,” Danny whispers.

“No, you’re not,” Ryan whispers back. 

Nate moves to sit back in his chair, then stands again, restless. He doesn’t want to sit there but he doesn’t know where he does want to be... until he looks at Danny, thin and dwarfed even by a small hospital bed. He sets down the mostly-jack-and-a-little-coke and climbs into the bed without hesitating, laying down behind Danny on his side, letting his good hand rest just next to a swirl of Danny’s hair on the pillow. 

Danny’s smile widens - not that Nate can see that, from his vantage point. Although Ryan can. “I’ll be okay,” He corrects himself, watching his brother. “They said there’s no sign of paralysis. I’ll walk, I’ll probably even run after a while.” He tries moving and hisses again. “A long while. It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”

“You always were way more optimistic when you were high as balls,” Ryan whispers, and he and Danny laugh, until the action makes Danny whimper at a new spike of pain. “What do we do now, Dan, huh?”

“Keep going,” Danny says, voice low, barely audible even to the two men on either side of him. “That’s all. We keep going.”

“I keep thinking I should’ve died back there, ten times over,” Ryan murmurs. “But every single time, you took the pain for me. I should’ve died-”

“Nah. You’re my little brother. I need you here.” Danny manages to keep the smile, then, and his blue eyes are warm. “If you feel so bad about it, sneak me some of that booze next time, yeah?”

"Dan, I am not going to help you mix IV drugs and alcohol-”

“Just leave it in a really easy-to-reach place and I’ll help myself.”

“Danny. No.”

“Danny yes.”

“Daniel Michaelson-”

“Ryan Niall Michaelson-”

Nate’s rumbling laughter interrupts them. It’s such a rare sound that both of them go immediately silent when they hear it, and Danny even tries to look over his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the ache to see the smile on Nate’s face. It’s slight, nearly private - a smile barely noticeable by anyone who isn’t looking for it.

But Danny is, and through the fog of the painkillers still coursing through his system, he sees it. 

“What?” Ryan says. “What’re you laughing at?”

Nate lays a hand over the star he once carved into Danny’s skin, and moves to rest his nose, just lightly, against the warmth of Danny’s neck, breathing in the scent of him under the hospital-smell that surrounds them. “Nothing,” He says, and Danny shivers a little as his lips move against the curve of the D at the back of his neck. “I’m j-j-just... realizing I’m g-going to listen to you two do this for the r-rest of my life.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ryan’s voice is dry. 

“No,” Nate says, eyes closed. He can almost feel them in the cabin, like this, just the two of them on days Bram was gone. Lying in the bed wasting the whole morning being warm, just them together. Warm and safe. It feels like being in Danny’s apartment during their year and a half of freedom, the way sometimes when Nate couldn’t get out of bed Danny would just stay with him, holding him, until the pain inside of Nate had lessened enough to let him stand. 

Now it’s his turn to hold Danny. 

-

@tiddiroki @whump-it @bleeding-demon-teeth @finder-of-rings @whumpywhumper @endless-whump @18-toe-beans @pumpkinthefangirl @goneuntil @swordkallya @astrobly @evermetnotforgotten @whumpiary @card-games-and-pain @raigash @whump-tr0pes @orchidscript @wildfaewhump @doveotions @eatyourdamnpears 

[spiltscribbles]

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed  this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

.-

Prompt Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜   |  A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

.-

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

.-

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary  weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive. 

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation  for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade  when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on. 

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings.  And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers. 

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him  any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year. 

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago. 

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard,  leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything  through the heavy weight around him, the one  cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room. 

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale. 

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and  how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes. 

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud. 

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together. 

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face. 

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?” 

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you  want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught 

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making  some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her. 

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth. 

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what. 

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

.-

[ihearthes]

Golden Rod

(inspired by Golden MV)

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person) Rating: Smut (18+ only) Word Count: 2829

“Thanks for the ride, Ryan!” you call, waving at Lambert’s assistant as he drives away to the garages on the Vesta. “Ciao!” 

Excited to show Harry your new lingerie, you enter the villa where the team has been staying. “Is he done for the day, Ben?” The words are muffled behind the cloth mask you’ve insisted is essential despite the drop in Italy’s coronavirus cases. 

The Fulwell 73 producer points upstairs without a word before bending over the video footage he’s scouring with the director. The opulent surroundings have been modernized, and you grin while mounting the stairs to the top floor where the master suite consumes the entire space. From the expansive open windows, you view the Tyrrhenian Sea, causing you to literally pinch yourself. How had life blessed you in such a way? Giddy, you continue up the stone steps.

Kicking off your sandals, you curl your toes into the cool, smooth tile. Fuck. This had been the perfect day. Swimming in the infinity pool during the morning with endless fresh fruits at your fingertips whenever you stepped out of the water to feel the warm sun on your skin. A socially distanced lunch of Insalata Di Mare Campanese (Seafood Salad) with Molly in a local restaurant. A trip to the stores with the adorable stylist Ryan -- where he’d introduced you to a new designer of gloriously sexy lingerie! 

You’d bought four pieces. 

Harry was going to love all of them, and you couldn’t wait to showcase them in your own private fashion show on the secure top floor of the Italian villa. 

Stopping in the marbled bathroom, you draw in a deep breath at the chill on your heated feet. Quickly, you wash your hands, singing “Happy Birthday” twice like you’d been taught to ensure 20 seconds has elapsed. No way were you going to be responsible for inadvertently passing along the virus to your boyfriend during the Golden music video shoot. He’d end up missing out on filming the music video and the upcoming Don’t Worry Darling if he tested positive. Carefully removing your mask, you toss it into the laundry hamper before washing your hands a second time. 

Tiptoeing out of the bath, you wonder where the man of the hour might be. Napping? Nope. Not in the bed. On the loggia, you spy Harry settled in a chair, staring into space. 

“Can’t blame you, Styles. That’s one hell of a view.” Gazing over the colorful boats moored in the sea near the coast, your eyes feast on the sky with its tints of reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges as the sun begins to sink into the water. Honestly, you expect to hear a sizzle as the bright ball of gases descends into the blue serenity of the sea. 

“Indeed.” His quiet voice doesn’t sound normal for Harry, and you approach slowly, like one might a wounded deer. Wouldn’t want to frighten him away. 

“Harry!” The gasp leaves your throat, and you press your hand to your mouth to capture the sound too late as it has already escaped. “What the hell happened to your knee?”

He shrugs, finally glancing in your direction. “Skinned it. Hi, love. Did you have a good day?”

“I had a beautiful day, but what the fuck did you do to your knee?” Crouching down, you examine the spot where blood is flowing. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but enough that you want to clean it. “My poor baby,” you coo, “Let me clean that for you.”

Rising, you glide to the bathroom again. 

“Bring some ice too, love,” he requests, tacking on a “please” at the last minute. 

Stopping in the suite’s tiny kitchen, you search the small freezer for ice as requested. Ransacking the cabinets in the bathroom, you manage to locate cotton balls, an antiseptic, and a bandage. Returning to Harry, you kneel at his feet. “This might sting a bit.” Cautiously, you cover the cotton ball with the antiseptic and press it to his wound. 

He winces, but the only sound he releases is a mild hiss. 

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not a big deal, love.”

As the blood vanishes with its absorption into the cotton ball, you agree with him. The wound is relatively minor. Should form a scab in the next day or so. Carefully, you remove the adhesive from the bandage and press it over the small scratch. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” you tease, “you’ll heal soon enough.”

“Gonna run that one into the ground, aren’t you?” he jokes. 

“Might as well,” your shrug, grinning. “Don’t worry, H. You’re so golden.” His smile gives away his mirth at the pun. “Soon enough, you’ll be done filming, and moving on to something else. And I’ll give you hell about whatever the next thing is too.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he confesses with intense eye contact, and your insides start to flutter. 

As an afterthought, you hold up a bag of frozen peas. “No ice, H. I’m so American that I forgot Europeans don’t do much ice. Will this do?”

“Sure.” Grabbing the bag of peas, he smirks before placing it on his crotch. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Your dick needs ice?”

His eyes rake over you. “Kind of went running without an athletic supporter today.” 

Planting your hands on your hips, you glare at him. “Why would you damage the goods like that?”

Raising his shoulders, he grins, “The fans will love it.”

Your lower lip juts out as you pout at him. “Does that mean it’s off limits to me?”

“It’s sore, love. Not broken.” Harry emphasizes, but that doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“But I’ve got lingerie,” you state clearly. 

He sits up quickly, shifting the bag of frozen peas on his crotch. “You do?”

“Yep.” You allow the ‘P’ to pop. “Ryan introduced me to a new designer. I bought four sets.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. 

“Not with your dick wounded,” you remind him with a tiny hitch in your breathy voice. 

“Fuck,” he repeats. 

“Should I model the first one or wait until tomorrow?” You’re definitely pushing the envelope here, yet how dare he give fans priority to his most precious bits?!

Eyes darkening, he sweeps his gaze over your light trousers and loose shirt. “Ummmm...now please.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you to hurt your dick more.”

The exasperated roll of his eyes makes you smile. “I wanna see, love.” 

Examining him, you come to the conclusion that he’s an adult and knows what he wants. With a nod, you grasp the handle of the bag from the designer. “Be right back!” Hurrying to the bedroom, you set the bag down before rummaging in it for the most sedate look: a white lacy baby doll bit that hits mid-thigh and comes with a long peignoir. Putting on frilly high heeled slipper with it, you strut in front of him with the robe tightly covering your body, watching as his eyes darken. 

“Like this one?”

“Shit, love. It’s…” 

When you part the edges to reveal the concoction underneath, Harry has to catch his breath, shifting in the seat as he adjusts the frozen peas. 

“Hot?” you taunt.

“Mhm. Come here, and check my temperature.” His voice is throaty, and you recognize the signs quite easily. 

“Nope. Three more to go before I get within touching distance, H. Sorry.”

“Dammit,” He mockingly shakes his head. “You know I could easily see all of them on separate nights. Let’s just start with this one.”

Purposely, you push your lip out in a pout. “But then the other lingerie would get jealous, and Ryan went to a lot of effort to get me a private viewing. After all, this stuff isn’t available to the general public.”

“No?” He sighs, and you catch the hitch in his comment. “Bring on the second one then.”

Confidently, you swagger from the room. With shaky hands, you withdraw the bright red lace camisole and boy short. Is this the appropriate one to wear next? The red might just push him over the edge. Best to stay out of his reach then. Smirking, you pull the outfit on and waltz onto the balcony with a twirl, your hair on pointe as its curls bounced with you. 

“Holy fuck. That’s the second one?” His strangled cry makes you laugh in joy. 

“How’s that cock feeling now?” you gesture in the direction of his crotch. 

“The peas have melted I believe.”

“Mhm. Maybe you should go get something else from the freezer then.”

“Nah. I’d rather you come get this bag for me. I might be too injured to walk inside.”

“Oh, you’re so funny. I know this game. I get close to you, and the other two lingerie outfits never see the light of day. Nope. You want more frozen food for your genitals, you can get it yourself.” Laughing, you smack your rounded ass as you amble into the bedroom again. 

“Fuck!” Harry yells behind you. 

The dialogue combined with the strutting has your pussy feeling damp as the waves of arousal rush over you. Sure you’d fucked last night, but today was a new day, and you wanted to feel that dick inside you -- regardless of the damage he did by jogging in the city for the video. 

The third one is pink -- and you’re well aware from experience how much Harry loves pink. The baby doll dress is silk and lands just at the top of your thighs with a black lace bodice that laces in the middle. Kind of laces anyway. Plenty of boob still visible. Or barely hidden. Whichever you prefer.

“Oh my god. You’re killing me!” Harry whines as you parade just out of his reach. When he starts to rise, you shake a finger at him. 

“No, no, H. You need to recuperate from running today. Better stay seated.”

He chokes as you twist around to show him all sides, including the g-string with its bare backside. 

“You’re evil!” he calls as you dance back into the bedroom. 

This is the final one, and you prepare carefully. It takes extra time to put on, and you smile as you observe your image in the room’s mirror. Deftly, you slip a couple of condoms in the bodice of the bralette. 

You find a playlist of romantic Italian music and set it to play on the Bluetooth speaker in the bedroom, ensuring the volume is high enough to be heard on the loggia. 

Harry gasps the moment he sees you. “You’re not wearing anything under that!”

Playfully you glance down at the last lingerie set. “Oh, damn. I guess when I put the garter skirt and stockings on, I must have forgotten the panties. Forgive me?”

His head bobs up and down as he gulps. 

“Now,” you murmur, approaching him. Grasping a pillow from a nearby chair, you plop it on the floor in front of him, settling on your knees there. “I think the best thing is if I take a look at this dick to make sure you didn’t do too much damage.”

Removing the no-longer-frozen peas, you toss the bag to the side. No one will be eating those. Ever. Silently, Harry waits while you carefully peel down the top of his elasticized shorts and remove his cock. You have to catch your breath every time you get to glimpse it, and today is no exception. 

Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips as you hold his rigid length in your hand, your eyes flickering up to his where he’s staring intently at you. Maintaining eye contact, you run your tongue over the tip of his cock, paying extra attention to the slit there. 

“Mmmm,” you murmur. “The tip seems to be okay. Let me check the length.”

Using your saliva as lubrication, you run your hands down his shaft to his balls. “Doesn’t appear to be broken,” you smirk, “In fact, seems pretty solid and firm to me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Might want to apply some suction there, love, just in case.”

You don’t really care what he means by that last phrase. You’re more than happy to test out the equipment to ensure that it’s in full working order. Spreading his legs more firmly, you lean in, sliding his entire dick into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Harry grasps the hair at the back of your hand, bunching it in his hand as he guides you along his length. You hear him sigh, and you’re confident he’s tilted his head back and closed his eyes, but when you glance at him, you find that his eyes are still on your lips. 

Fuck. It turns you on even more, and you can feel your pussy dripping onto the pillow. You make a mental note to remove the cover and wash it before leaving the villa. 

As your lips glide along him, you’re frustrated at not having full access to him. As you apply suction to his tip, you pop off him with an audible sound. Both of your hands reach for the waistband of his shorts, and you gently encourage him -- “Lift your bum, H” -- so you can fully remove the garment, throwing it over your shoulder and hoping it doesn’t sail into the pool below. Harry smiles, adjusting his stance into the biggest man spread you’ve ever seen. 

Before you return to your ministrations on his cock, you grasps your chin, drawing your face forward and upwards until he can lock lips with you. 

“Not much longer, love, or I’ll explode.”

“I don’t mind,” you purr. 

“Mhm. But if we’re fully going to test the equipment, then that should include more than a bj.”

“Ah, I see,” you grin. “But of course. We want to be thorough.” 

First, though, you are compelled to play with his balls, so you take him into your mouth again, adding one hand to his length while the fingers on the other play with the balls underneath. Fuck. You could do this all day. Breathing through your nose, you deepthroat him and suck for a solid ten seconds before you release him completely. 

With a grin, you stand, kicking aside the pillow. “Hmmmmm...trying to decide the best way to do this.” Your voice has a catch in it, and you wipe your mouth before bending over and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Tongue darting forward, you taste him, allowing him to suckle your tongue briefly. 

As you come up for air, Harry moves his legs together while slipping his hand between yours and nudging your legs apart. With one finger he teases your clit, flicking it from side to side as he watches your face and eases another digit inside you. Oh hell. This feels…

“Fuck, H.”

“You’re so tight, baby. Come sit here. Let’s test out the equipment. Make sure everything works properly.”

At his invitation, you step forward as he shifts his bum down on the chair a bit. 

“Shit. I forgot…”

With his words, you remove the first condom from your bralette where it has conveniently been nuzzling your nipple, the hard corner of the foil packet hardening your nip. 

Grasping his dick, he uses the tip to slap at your pussy a few times before using your internal juices to lubricate himself. Your eyes roll back into your head as the two of you work together so you can slide onto him without any additional moments wasted. 

When you’re fully seated on his dick, you grind just for a moment. 

“Hmmmm...seems sturdy enough,” you pant. 

“Oh, you’re so funny,” he drawls, but his eyes roll back in his head when you glide along his length, your stockinged thighs surrounded by his large hands. “Fuck, love.”

“Working on it,” you laugh breathlessly as the rhythm becomes easier. His hands move to your arse as he assists you in riding him. 

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you shake your tits in his face, and he grins as he bends his head to press a kiss at the juncture of your boobs. 

As your climax begins to arrive, your movements become less steady and more sporadic. Harry, knowing you as he does, reaches between your bodies to tease your clit as you throw your head back and cry out two thrusts before his seed spurts into the condom and his eyes roll back into his head. Spent, you collapse on his chest, still joined. 

“I think,” you whisper as you kiss his neck while playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, “we can agree that the equipment still works just fine. No damage here.” Picking up your head, you glare at him. “But no more, H! What’s mine is mine. The fans get enough of you.”

He laughs as his arms surround you, and he buries his head in your shoulder. 

“Of course, love. Whatever you say.”

A/N:  Reblogs are love, my readers.  If you liked this even just a little tiny bit, please take a second to reblog so that others might find it.  Getting likes is nice, but it doesn’t help me grow my readership.  Thanks for your consideration!

[lisbonsteresa]

We Keep This Love (In a Photograph) (Nancy x Ace)

The first time he finds the photo is the day after the food festival. 

He arrives at the Claw late, rushing to shove his jacket into his locker and get to the kitchen before George notices his absence, when something crinkles unexpectedly in the pocket. Reaching in, he pulls out the polaroid - a bit wrinkled, the right corner completely folded over - but still in one piece even after the events of the day before. He stares at it for a moment, crouching in front of his open locker, trying to recall when he had acted on the impulse to grab it off the coffee table in their rush to leave, and before he can stop to realize what he’s doing he’s studying the picture’s subject instead. Hair falling into her eyes, dirt from the tunnels still smeared across her face, her features set in an expression of determined focus as she dug into the box of files Carson had procured for her, still looking so perfectly…Nancy. A small grin crosses his face as he remembers her amused reaction to the flash of the camera turning into a sincere smile as Carson told her how proud of her he was - Because of her testimony. The grin drops off his face as the memories of the rest of the day rush back into sharp focus. The sense of uselessness he’d felt as he’d dangled from that railing and watched his life be traded for the lives of countless others; the terrifying amount of finality he’d heard in her ‘I couldn’t lose you.’; the way there was no doubt in his mind about what “favor” Celia had asked for in return - a favor that for all he knows Nancy could be fulfilling right this moment. 

As if summoned by his own despondent thoughts, the door to the storeroom suddenly bursts open and Nancy rushes in, her coat hanging off of one arm as she fastens her hair into a hurried bun. Her mad dash stops short upon seeing him, and as their eyes meet he’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he wants to say to her; all the things he held back the day before while Grant was around. The questions of  ‘How could you -’ and ‘Why would you -’ and the arguments starting with ‘This will ruin your -’ and ‘I’m not worth -’ cycle around each other in his mind, and he can tell that something’s about to slip out his mouth but he can’t make the connection between them to know what it’ll be - And then suddenly he doesn’t have to. George’s annoyed voice rings out from the kitchen, and he’s never heard the phrase ‘saved by the boss’ before, but after this he might consider adopting it. He quickly crumples the photo into a ball and tosses it into his locker, following it with his jacket as if burying the image would help him bury the feelings it brought up. He gives Nancy a curt nod, avoiding whatever he might have seen in her eyes as he turns and heads towards the stairs, knowing there was a difference between delaying something and running away from it, but not quite sure which side this was falling on.

——————————————————————

It’s several months before he sees it again. Long enough for Everett Hudson’s first case to be declared a mistrial due to jury tampering, and for the time between it and his retrial to be just enough to allow Nick and Ryan to find a smoking gun hidden in Tiffany’s files that put the Hudson patriarch away for his full sentence (officially, at least). Long enough for Amanda to turn to him on her doorstep two weeks after the trial and tell him that she and Gil were leaving - finally following up on his lead in Santa Fe. There were kisses goodbye and offers to help in any way he could, but they both agreed it would be better for her to focus on finding her mother, and at this point it’s been long enough that he’s starting to feel like he’s doing okay after the breakup. He’s starting to feel like everything’s back to…whatever passes for normal in Horseshoe Bay. At least, he is until Nancy announces - midway through George’s mandated After Hours End-of-Summer-Cleaning Locker Inspection, no less - that she’s gotten into Columbia. 

His hand had just closed around a crumpled ball of paper in the back of his locker when the words leave her mouth, and the ball stays in his hand even as he joins in on the group hug an ecstatic Bess initiates; as he tells Nancy how happy he is for her; as he reassures George that he’ll close up so she can ride with Nick to the celebration he’s sure Carson has planned for Nancy back at their place. 

It isn’t until he’s left alone in the storeroom and he drops down onto the bench in front of his locker that he notices how tightly he’s been gripping the paper. Or the…not paper, he corrects himself as he notices the different texture of whatever he was holding. A sneaking suspicion comes from the back of his mind as he starts to smooth out the ball, and once the image is revealed in full - slightly faded with the right corner ripping off altogether after he pulls a bit too hard -  he has to fight the urge to crumple the photo again and toss it into the trash. 

Which is a weird impulse, isn’t it? Because he was happy for her, of course he was. This was Nancy’s dream school, after all, and after the year that she’s had, doesn’t she deserve to do what makes her happy? To move on with her - His thoughts stutter to a stop. He shakes his head and tries again. After all, hasn’t he - haven’t they all - known this was coming, sooner or later? Hasn’t he known from the start that Nancy was meant for bigger and better things? That she wasn’t going to hang around forever, not in this nowhere small town, with her ragtag group of friends and the dishwasher who’s been at a standstill since high school -

He’s being unfair, he knows. Because Nancy doesn’t see it, any of it, like that. He knows how much Nancy cares; about Horseshoe Bay, about her friends…about him. She’d told him as much during the countless knock-down-drag-out arguments they’d had after the incident at the paper mill, hadn’t she? But he can feel annoyance - or maybe even anger -  rising up inside him, and if he doesn’t deflect it towards her, then he’ll have to confront himself, and he’s been avoiding that confrontation for months now. He’d have to actually think about why he’s been keeping Nancy at arm’s length even after they’d both said their piece during those arguments. Why he’d been so insistent that they’d ‘gotten back to normal’ when he honestly wasn’t sure he had any idea of what ‘normal’ was for them. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d avoided his eyes when he’d congratulated her, but he wasn’t sure it was the way she had held onto his hand long after everyone else had left their hug either. He’d have to actually think about how he’d wasted so much time pretending there wasn’t still something to fix between them, and how he didn’t know what to feel now that he’s realized they’ve run out of time anyway.

When Amanda had left, it had felt like they were mutually closing a door - calm and maybe a little sad, but with both of them smiling and understanding on their respective sides. Knowing that Nancy was leaving felt like having to struggle with a door against hurricane-level winds, without a clue of what side he wanted to be on once he finally got it closed. But maybe that’s not a fair comparison to make, he rationalizes. After all, he and Amanda were together. He and Nancy have just been…  He looks back down at the polaroid, his thumb running along the torn edge as he considers just what exactly he and Nancy have been, before dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. Too late to figure it out now, anyway.

He leans forward and slips the photo between the pages of a library book already overdue by a year at the bottom of his locker. So he’ll have something to remember her by, he tells himself, unsure if the unpleasant feeling that settles in his gut as he slams the locker shut is bitterness or just plain sadness.

——————————————————————

Life goes on in Horseshoe Bay, even without Nancy Drew. It’s not until late fall when he sees the photo again. He’s helping George and Nick with the Claw’s first official Allhallowtide event, spending his day helping kids decorate their lanterns whenever he’s not hyping Bess up over text for her ‘very preliminary, very probational, very terrifying!!!!!’ (her exclamation points, not his) first in-person meeting with Aunt Diana since she’d started slowly rebuilding their relationship. 

He’s sitting on the steps leading into the storeroom after one of their longer text exchanges, laughing when George calls out for him to make himself useful and find more markers, but he rises to follow her instructions anyway. It takes him all of 5 minutes to realize that they are completely marker-free, digging through every drawer and pencil holder in the room and coming up with nothing, before he remembers the pack of Crayolas he’s pretty sure survived his last locker clean-out. 

He unloads his jacket, a few books, and the jumbo pack of earplugs he’s been drawing from ever since that siren incident three weeks ago onto the bench to make it easier to find the markers, but the earplugs overbalance the books and everything comes toppling down before he can even look through what’s left in the locker. 

With a sigh, he leans over and picks up the old library book that fell face-down, watching curiously as a square of paper drops out from between the pages and back down onto the floor. A catalogue card, he wonders, or maybe a note someone stashed and forgot about? But as he picks it up and sees the torn right corner, he realizes that not only is it not regular paper, but that he knows exactly what he’s going to see before he flips the item over. 

A shock runs through him all the same once he does, seeing Nancy’s face for the first time in months. He doesn’t have more than a moment to think about that though, as his phone erupts with seven text tones in rapid succession at the same time George’s shouts for him to hurry up reach the storeroom. After a tiny moment of hesitation, he slides the polaroid into his back pocket and shoves everything else back into the locker before making his way back to the dining room, marker-less and contrite. 

That was a mistake. He spends the rest of the day hyperaware of what he’s holding onto, patting his pocket for reassurance it hasn’t slipped out so many times that one of Ted’s friends asks him - with all the seriousness a 9-year old can muster - if he is also suffering from the ‘wedgie-saurus’. 

It isn’t until that night, after he insists that he’ll close up the Claw so Nick and George can stay with her sisters at the lantern-lighting event, that he has a moment alone to actually look at the picture. He straddles the storeroom bench, placing it down in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees so he can lean in close as a sudden wave of guilt hits him. He remembers the way their text conversations had petered out after long stretches of one-word or emoji-only replies; the way her calls had slowly become less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. He still gets weird looks from the others when he makes excuses to avoid their video calls with her; can still hear Bess’s overly-sympathetic voice after she’d spent a long weekend in New York telling him that everything was fine, that Nancy just misses him.

He misses her too; of course he does. Some days he misses her so much the ache of it catches him by surprise. Like when he'd realized his habit of watching the door for the first ten minutes of every shift, still expecting her to rush through it with her name tag missing and an excuse at the ready. When he made a Big Lebowski reference at dinner one night and got nothing other than a confused smile from his mother in response. When he was researching something at the end of the bar and felt a phantom presence at his shoulder, like she was just outside his peripheral, leaning up against him and waiting impatiently for him to turn towards her and give her the answer she was looking for. 

It didn’t seem possible for someone he’d known for barely a year to have become such a big part of every aspect of his life, but everywhere he’s turned for months there seems to be another reminder of Nancy Drew.

And that just makes everything worse. Because he hadn’t been able to give her the answers she might have needed before she left. And now, now that he’s had the time to figure those answers out, now that they kept him up at night, running endlessly through his head while he stares dejectedly at the ceiling, he doesn’t know if they’re still the same answers she was looking for now. And he’s terrified by the thought that they might not be. He’s gotten himself caught in a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve on his own.

But maybe… His thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the clock hanging above the back door, and he starts when he realizes nearly an hour has passed since he first sat down. Glancing at the photo again, he waits for the urge to tuck it back between the pages of that book; to push his feelings down and avoid having to confront them, but it doesn’t come. 

Something else clicks into place with the last chime of the clock, and holding the polaroid in one hand, he unlocks his phone with the other, ignoring Bess’s 5 recap and 2 goodnight texts for the moment while he taps the contact info for the only other person he’s sure will be awake at midnight on a Tuesday. 

She picks up on the first ring. “Ace?” 

Her voice sounds tired, maybe even a little worried, but so deeply familiar his heart jumps into his throat just at the sound of her saying his name. “Hey, Nancy.” he begins, unable to hold back a small smile as he looks down at her picture. “Can we talk?”

Maybe he doesn’t have to solve this one alone.

Maybe neither of them do.

——————————————————————

Nancy’s bright hair makes her easy to spot, even from his position across the train platform. He watches as she peers through the crowd, noticing him with a grin and a tiny wave, before he pushes off from the wall and starts to make his way over to meet her. 

He’d practically had to fight Ryan to be the one picking her up, he imagines telling her as she laughs. The man had been ready to push him down in the driveway until Carson had stepped in to - heavily, mind you - imply that maybe Nancy and Ace could use a little ‘alone time’. 

That part he might keep to himself, actually. It was bad enough that Carson acted like he was in on some big secret every time he got off the phone with his daughter; he didn’t need her wondering why both her father figures were trading smug smiles every time the four of them were in a room together. 

He realizes too late that he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts and that Nancy was suddenly standing less than a foot away from him. “Hi.” he murmurs, the memory of their last - somewhat awkward - reunion tugging at the back of his mind. (He almost wished his arm was still in a sling. Then at least he’d only have to worry about what to do with one of his hands).

“Hi.” she replies in the same tone, her own hands twisting nervously in the strap of her bag, but a beaming smile on her face. It was the same smile he’d seen during their almost daily video calls for the past month and a half, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for the way it makes his heart flip to see it directed at him, live and in person.

“H-how’s Columbia?” he manages to only stumble over the first word, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because suddenly Nancy’s dropped her luggage and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him while his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer still as he breathes in the fact that this is really happening, that it’s not a dream he’s going to wake up from to find the calendar mockingly reminding him there was another three days until her holiday break started.

He’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world moves around them, but when they finally pull away he knows his smile is as bright as hers. There’s a lot they still have to share - he hasn’t told her about his first day interning with John Sander yet, and she has a copy of the Daily Spectator with her first front page article stowed safely in her bag - and a lot - the distance, their schedules, missing each other - that they still have to figure out. But as he holds out his hand and Nancy takes it in hers, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ace can’t find it in himself to worry. 

Whatever happens, they’ll figure out a way to solve it. Together.

——————————————————————

(She finds the photo less than a week later; sees it hanging on the inside of his locker when she stops by the Claw to help them decorate for the holidays. Bess is beside herself at somehow being one of the last to know, but Ace can’t really focus on anything other than the look in Nancy’s eyes as she pulls him in for a kiss.)

[nhl-stories]

Don't Write An Elegy (part seven) – Ryan Graves

Masterlist

Author’s Note: Two more parts and that's all, thanks for everyone who's followed along thus far, hope I give you the ending you want or at least one you enjoy hahaha

Word Count: 2.8k

…It's the words that we don't say that scare me so…

I’m still unsure where we stand, where I stand in all this. I love her. I know that much, but do I love her enough anymore?

We still haven’t had a long chat; the playoffs are days away and we both agreed we didn’t want to unload such heavy emotions when I was meant to be focused on other matters.

I suggested we postpone any talks and for once she was shocked by the lack of communication. It’s not why I suggested it, but the look on her face was kind of worth it.

There’s something about having the upper hand that gives me a kind of all-consuming pleasure, maybe I’m sick fuck for it.

I’m more than ready to talk and too nervous to broach it all at the time. That might be a sign.

Am I just grasping at straws to keep the only relationship I’ve ever really had? I should probably spend more time pondering this, but I’m trying so hard to keep my attention on hockey, on playing well, on winning that ultimate prize.

“Ryan, can I get your opinion on something?” Gretchen calls from upstairs.

Some of the guys are over now, Tyson and JT. Gretchen and I are civil enough that I’m less worried about hiding it all, or I’m just so tired of all the extra effort that takes. It might explain the extra adrenaline rushing through me all the time. Ready to burst out of a cage. The cage I built for myself.

Gretchen comes down the stairs and stops in her tracks at seeing the guys; not for the usual reasons as of late, but because she’s wearing a holographic pink and silver outfit with her blue hair pulled back into two high pigtails. Her face quickly flushes with an embarrassment I’m not used to seeing.

“Oh fuck, sorry didn’t know company was here.”

“Do you not talk to your wife before bringing strange men into her house?” Tyson laughs, but he can’t take his eyes off of her. She looks so foreign, so unlike herself.

I roll my eyes and raise an eyebrow in her direction.

“I got an offer to play for a tour this summer and apparently the band has a very specific look.”

“Protozoa from Zenon?” I laugh, but the word summer quickly burrows its way into my mind.

“Okay, that’s not too bad. I was thinking I looked a little too Baby Spice.”

“I see that,” JT chimes in.

“It’s the pigtails, they’re too much,” she groans before running a hand nervously over one of the pigtails.

“Yeah they do give it a baby hooker vibe,” Tyson punctuates the sentence with a boisterous laugh.

JT punches his arm, “dude, that’s Ryan’s wife.”

I’m hearing everything like I’m underwater, I’m not fully there my brain is ringing.

Summer. Summer. Summer. Summer.

The word plays on a loop in my head until it doesn’t even sound like something real.

“Ryan has heard people say worse about me,” the sentence is directed at me and it snaps me from my stupor.

There’s an underlying tone to her words. Like she really wants to say ‘Ryan has called me worse.’ But I know I’m reading into that because I have heard her called worse by other people. Or at least called words that cut deeper than cunt ever could.

“Summer?” I finally speak up again, saying the one word so lamely.

“What?” The smile begins to fade on her face.

“You’re planning on joining a summer tour?” It feels like the final shove away.

Suddenly, our marital woes are on display. Subtly, but still, it’s In front of one of the team’s biggest gossips.

“I’m not sure,” her shrug seems to damper any of the seriousness my question left in the air, “they just sent me the outfit and I wanted to see. But this doesn’t really seem like me, does it?”

In any other year this would have been a pretty reasonable answer. Now I have to crack a code just to understand what she’s saying underneath the other words.

Her real meaning seems to be, ‘the ball is in your court. If you don’t want a divorce I’ll stay.’ But I’ve put myself in this awful limbo where I’ve started questioning us too.

“But you’ll stay to see us win the cup?” Tyson opens his big mouth and you can tell he knows he’s said something dumb.

“Hmmm, I mean it’s not that big of deal, just a silly silver cup,” she has a sarcastic smirk, but she’s still not showing her cards.

Her laugh fills the air as she practically skips away up the stairs.

“She’s not serious right?” I can’t tell if Tyson is joking or not.

“GG is Canadian, of course she’s joking,” JT says.

I shrug, it’s the best answer anyone could have given.

We’re just hanging out watching TV, vegging out is a luxury at this time.

Gretchen comes back downstairs she’s looking more like herself. She goes to the fridge and grabs a beer.

Cracking it open and taking the space on the couch next to me.

She’s wearing a Yarmouth Cross Country sweatshirt from when the school forced her to join a sports team and she walked her first and only race. I had gone to watch her, although I told all my friends it was to support the school.

Her hair is down, but messy from being in pigtails. She gives me a sly smile before taking a sip of her drink.

It’s the same smile she’d give me when she’d slide into the desk next to mine during fifth period geometry. Before she’d lean over and ask me what she missed in English class, a class she’d skip more often than not. I’d always tell her the reading homework even though she had read every book on the syllabus before. Then she’d say ‘thanks Graves,’ and the peppermint scent of her breath would linger in the air.

It’s the same smile she gave me when she saw me at a party after our first date. The smile she’d continue to give me as we slipped away from the crowd and shared our first kiss that tasted like fruit punch and too much vodka on Dani Powell’s back porch.

She’d use it the first time she snuck into my bedroom late at night with a couple of beers she’d stolen from the pub. Her head popping up in my window while she tried to push it open until I unlocked it. She’d hand me a beer and crawl into my bed and we’d drink and listen to music in hushed tones so my mom wouldn’t hear us.

It’s the smile she’d given me when she first saw me score a goal in juniors, when she drove 3 hours in a snow storm to see us play the Mooseheads, only to be able to talk to me for 10 minutes before I had to hop on a bus.

The smile she’d use the summer after our junior year when she tried to teach me how to sail. And while I didn’t quite master the skill it didn’t matter when we were out on the ocean and she whispered to me that she was ready to go a step further. And we both turned so beet red as we fumbled our way through losing our virginities on a pile of sea-soaked ropes.

It’s the smile she had when I told her I got drafted to the NHL, when I asked her to marry me, when she finally said I do.

It’s a smile that has always felt like a secret understanding between us. I hadn’t seen it so long; it doesn’t quite feel the same. The connection is severed but it still holds so much significance. It’s so intertwined with the major moments of my life.

“Stop looking at her like that,” I’m snapped out of my trance by JT’s voice.

When I blink into focus her smile turns sad and for some reason that resonates with me more, our new secret connection.

“If you guys want a room, just tell us to get out of here,” Tyson adds.

“You guys stay, I’ll get out of your hair,” she laughs, hauling herself off the couch and going up the stairs, a walking enigma I don’t think I’ll ever figure out.

…You're as safe as a mountain, But know that I'm dynamite…

We made it past the first round of the playoffs and I should be happier. But the closer we get to the cup or being eliminated the closer I get to making a final decision about Gretchen.

It’s about to strike midnight and I’ll probably turn back into a pumpkin.

I don’t know if I’m actually sad about it, that’s the problem.

If our marriage is going to end, I’ll be devastated. There’s no way around that. The past decade of my life has been with her, my milestones are hers and hers are mine. Almost every major moment of my life has been shared with her, it’s hard to think about how to do any of the next part without her.

Alone.

But I also know it might be for the best. It’s scary that what started out as my wort fear just months ago has turned into something reasonable. Before I didn’t think I could live through it, now I know could. Sure, I’d mourn, but I’d survive.

We won the first two games of the series and are boarding a plane in a few hours for the next two.

When I exit the locker room most of the team is celebrating with family and friends and significant others ready to wish us luck before we head out.

I’m not expecting to see Gretchen, even though I know her missing a home playoff game would raise a lot of red flags. For the rest of the home games, she had told the others she’d meet me at home and by the time I got back she was in the guest bed asleep.

Not that we’d talk if she was awake.

But as I look down the crowded hallway, there she is. Holding her team jacket and rocking back in forth on her heels, like she’s at a party where she doesn’t know anyone.

She spots me quickly, I’m still a tall person even when I’m surrounded by other tall people.

She gives me that fucking sad smile that I don’t know how to deal with. We meet in the middle, our feet moving us closer whether we want to be or not. Then she wraps her arms around my middle, she squeezes me tightly burying her face in my chest.

I’m shocked at first, but instinctively wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer if possible.

We stand there for a bit too long, when I look up, I see Cale giving us a concerned look. He’s not the only one; Nate, Gabe, Mel and even Tyson all look on with worry. That’s when I realize she’s crying or rather sobbing. I start to feel the moisture seep through my shirt.

I rub my hand soothingly on her back before I’m struck with a moment of absolute clarity. Our life together flashes before my eyes and I know exactly what she’s about to say.

“You don’t have to… I mean it’s not a problem for me,” I whisper into the crown of her head, grasping for anything solid to hold onto.

She pulls away, the shock on her face lets me know she’s still shocked by the mind reading.

“You say that, but I know it’s not true,” she says it in a whisper as if that will keep this a secret for just us.

“You’re supposed to be focused right now. And you’re doing so well, I don’t need to be weighing you down. You could be on the verge of the happiest moment of your life, of one of your greatest achievements and reaching your dreams and I don’t want to be the reason it feels less than amazing.”

Her voice is getting louder, not that it matters since everyone in the hallway is straining to hear every word.

I cup my hands around her face, her tears pool where my palms meet her cheeks.

“You’re not­–“

“Ry, babe. You can stop lying to yourself. Me being here isn’t making anything better.”

The tears haven’t stopped pouring but she has to swallow back a sob to keep talking. My heart breaks at the sight. This might be our last conversation. And it’s front of my whole nosy team as they get a full picture of what’s been going on behind closed doors.

“I think we need some space, like real deal space not this bullshit space we’re giving each other in the house. And space where you actually know what’s going on.”

Only she would get me to let out a laugh as she basically is letting me down gently.

“And I know this is the shittiest timing, but we both know it needs to happen. We can’t keep putting it off forever. So let me be the shitty person, because I am,” she gives me a sympathetic smile.

“I still love you,” it’s true, maybe not in the way it was just a few months ago but I can’t help but say it.

She pulls away from my hold on her face, “I love you too, but it may not be the right love anymore. And we deserve that right love.”

I can tell she’s contemplating giving me a kiss, but I can tell she also thinks it might stop her from making this drastic move. She gives my hand a squeeze and walks down the hall. Maybe out of my life.

I don’t turn to watch her walk away; I stare at the floor. I hope it’s enough to let the guys know to give me my space, but no one moves towards me. No one leaves the hallway either.

I thought this moment would feel like my heart was ripped out of my chest. Instead, I don’t feel much of anything. My heart could have just stopped.

We lose the next game. I had put my all into it, anything to forget about the word space and all the smaller meanings that hid in its crevasses. I’m not sure it worked, but I didn’t think about Gretchen for a few days.

It helped that all the guys let me live, there were no sad smiles or walking on eggshells; they acted like a I was any teammate on a playoff run. They watched her walk away and were waiting for me to give the okay before they reacted towards me.

There would be no okay until the season ended.

I thought she might have pulled a Marianne and fucked off to Alberta, maybe never to be seen again. Or show up at the worst moment.

But my mom calls me a week later to tell me she saw Gretchen around town. She clearly knows something is wrong if she’s there during the playoffs, but doesn’t want to push me.

I confess everything.

There’s something cathartic about crying to your mother, even as a grown man.

“Oh sweetie, I can talk to her if you need me to,” she says in a way only a mom can.

“Mom, I don’t need you to talk to my…” I can’t bring myself to say wife, “I don’t need you to talk to her.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. But you really should have told me sooner hon, I wish you hadn’t gone through that all alone.”

I wasn’t exactly alone, but I don’t want to get into any of that with her.

“I just didn’t want anyone looking at me different because my life was falling apart.”

There’s a long silence on the line. If I didn’t know any better, I would say our connection dropped.

“I know this hurts now, and it’s probably going to hurt for a long time, but you two had a beautiful love story. If it ends today or next year or when death do you part; you got to feel a love that a lot of people never get experience in this life. So, don’t think of it as a failure just cherish it, honey.”

We lose the next three games and are out of the playoffs. Of course, it’s not the ending we want, but it feels like the cherry on top of an already shitty year for myself. I don’t know if I would have wanted the season to end on a high note, the contrast would have been too much to handle.

When I enter the house, Gretchen’s stuff is gone. Still, she couldn’t completely erase herself from our home; remnants of her cling to the little things like the frames around the artwork or the set of plates in the cupboard.

But her piano still sits in our living room: sad and lonely.

With a heavy heart I get up and find the manila envelope of divorce papers.

[venomous-ko]

Wine Drunk while watching Godzilla vs Kong

Some major spoilers up ahead!

Mans really just annoyed the shit out of his coworker until he left so he could hack shit, huh?...I love it! 🤣🤣

——————————————

You mean to tell me that the explanation for why Godzilla attacked the one tech company site by the dude who studied Kaiju communication and behavior for a living is just, “sometimes people (and creatures) change”???? Like some dumbass justifying a toxic person/relationship??? Like excuse me???? Why are the literal teenagers making more sense than you?????

Also, we’re all in agreement that this facility is either housing Ghidora’s dead head, Mecha Godzilla, or Mecha Ghidora, right?!?

——————————————

Lol! “Apex Cybernetics!” That’s not foreshadowing! 🤣

——————————————

Apparently, I didn’t get my fill of white nonsense from Falcon and Winter Soldier, bc someone decided to put this blonde-hair-blue-eyed little bitch in charge! That’s not ganna go wrong somehow. 🙃😑👀

Like this bitch literally wanted to send a fucking child into unexplored hollow earth territory without a second thought! 🙃🙃🙃🙃 I was literally like 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 for that entire convo.

——————————————

I’m sorry! This conspiracy man just met these teenagers, and his first impulse was, “yeah, theses seem like some good people to break into a tech conglomerate with!” 🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

Why are these people surprised Kong knows sign language? These are people who study Kaiju (and presumably other animals in order to draw conclusions about certain behaviors) for a fucking living!!! We have primate species that recognize and communicate in sign language already! Why is this surprising???!?! Like...has NO ONE except this precious child tried this????

Also, nothing bad better happen to this child.

——————————————

That ship literally fucked around, and Godzilla let it find out! Lmao!

——————————————

Kong: Hey, Godzilla...look at me...

Godzilla: >:[

Kong: ...bitch.

——————————————

Precious girl: Thank you, friend 🧏🏽‍♀️

Kong: ☺️😴

THIS GIRL IS TOO PRECIOUS!!!!

——————————————

Bitch-ass White Man: How’s Kong with heights?

BITCH, you really ganna try that?!?! You really think you ganna find any aircraft(s) that are ganna be able to support all that weight?? Never mind any other problems with Kong trying to nope the fuck out of that situation and all kind of other hosts of problems!

And if you do somehow have one (or multiple) WHY TF DIDN’T YOU USE THAT BEFORE KNOWING FULL AND WELL YOU RAN THE RISK OF GODZILLA MERCING KONG’S ASS IF YOU TRAVELED VIA SHIP!?!?!?!

——————————————

Down the Hell Naw tunnel we go!

——————————————

“I think it’s romantic,”

I fucking love Millie Bobbie Brown’s character!! 🤣❤️🤣

——————————————

WHY IS THIS TEENAGER SMARTER THAN EVERYBODY OMG!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

“This is page one in the ‘Playing God’ handbook, right?”

I’ve decided I love this character! 🤣

——————————————

WHY YOU GETTING INSIDE THAT THING—Oh god! 😨 Why y’all got eggs!?!? This is like if Weyland-Yutani succeeded in getting Xenomorphs! 😬

——————————————

Oop! Locked in! THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T HIDE OUT IN MYSTERIOUS ROOMS!!!!

——————————————

Oh shit! Apex Cybernetics think they on that Wakanda shit now!

Also, why was that one Apex Cybernetics bitch bitching about how one of those HEAV crafts could power Vagas for a week if y’all clearly have a whole network or transportation using this tech!

And I never understood how tech companies kept that shit to world domination shit! Build a public transportation system with that shit! Boss man said he likes ideas that make him rich! Pretty sure that would do the trick!

——————————————

WINE BREAK!!!

Saving the rest of the last bottle for coking Gumbo, so gotta open up a new bottle

——————————————

Aw, Kong is so sick of this bullshit! 😂😭

——————————————

“It’s not working”

Bruh! Give it more that two seconds!

——————————————

HOW DARE Y’ALL USE KONG’S LOSS AGAINST HIM!!!! HOW DARE Y’ALL!!!

——————————————

HEAV go Brrrrrrr Shoooooooooooom!!!!

——————————————

LMAO!!! Monarch has their own brand of bottled water!?!?! Idk why that amuses me so much!

——————————————

This hallow earth portal thing is some Pacific Rim bullshit right here, lol!

——————————————

NYOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM

——————————————

Are we...are we really Ice Age: Dawn of Dinosaur-ing this shit rn??? 😂😂😂

——————————————

“It’s beautiful,”

Of course it’s beautiful! No hoomins have touched it! Lol

——————————————

Y’ALL GOT FUCKIN DRAGONS IN THIS BITCH!?!?!?!!! 8D YO!!! SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!!

——————————————

*marvels at the creature creation ideas*

——————————————

Kong’s first thought: *nom the dragon guts*

——————————————

THE ROCK HAND OMG IM GANNA CRY!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 It’s the same gesture the Precious Girl did OMG!!!!

——————————————

“We going in?”

“Yeah”

The BALLS on this child!

——————————————

“AAAAHH 😐”

*fear*

LMAO!!!!! I’M FUCKIN WHEEZING!!!

——————————————

“Sacrifice Pit”

OMG 🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

I KNEW IT!!!! MECHA-GODZILLA MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!! 8DDDDD

——————————————

YO PACIFIC RIM RAN SO MECHA-GODZILLA COULD FUCKIN SPRINT!!!!!!!!

——————————————

YO IT’S A GOOD THING I AIN’T SEEING THIS IN THEATERS BC I’D BE FLIPPING MY SHIT!!!!

——————————————

“Humanity, once again, will be the apex species,”

THERE it is!

——————————————

Why Mecha-Godzilla so skeeny?!? He need ta be thicc if he ganna take down REAL Godzilla!

——————————————

*Ryan Bergera conspiracy voice* Is this the real reason Kong was contained!? So this douche could snatch up Skull Crawlers without Kong intervention???

——————————————

OH SHIT!!! I think this thing is emitting alpha waves (or whatever we’re calling it) and THAT’s what set Godzilla off!!! He fought Ghidorah, heard this shit and went, “Nu-uh, bitch! NOT AGAIN!!!”

——————————————

Monarch dude: Yo, Godzilla’s headed to Hong Kong for some reason?

FUCKIN CALLED IT!!!

——————————————

This look like the door to fuckin General Grievous’s lair,da fuq?!? 🤣🤣🤣

 ——————————————

I got waaay too emotional over that handprint, y’all! 😭😭😭

——————————————

Y’all, the fucking art history major in me is fuckin screaming at this temple scene! The fact that some of these Kaiju not only had the urge and drive and capacity to build a fucking temple around this power source or some shit and create weapons like the axe that Kong just fucking Excalibured the shit out of that one skull crawler’s skull fucking implies the fact that there is intelligent civilization amongst these fucking Kaiju and all that shit! I want to know more about this shit! Take that you fucking racist-ass white historian motherfuckers!

(Note: I definitely needed to use talk to text for much of this bit, because there was no way I was going to be able to contain all my excitement in just typing, alone, lmao)

——————————————

BRUH!!! Why y’all exiting g the HEAV without no breathing apparatus or lead suits or nothing!?!?! In previous movies, y’all implied that these Kaiju lived in environments in which their environments were hella radioactive compared to our own!!!

——————————————

Kong is s the true heir to the iron throne, Lmao!

——————————————

FUCKING CALLED IT!!!! THEY HAD GHIDORA’S REMAINS IN THERE SOMEWHERE!!!!

——————————————

OH FUCK!!!! Y’ALL AINT JUST SENDING OUT ALPHA VIBES WITH YOUR MECHA-GODZILLA!!!! YOU SOMEHOW USING GHIDORA’S HIVE MIND OR TELEPATHY SHIT TO DO IT!?!?!?! AAAWWWWW SHEEEEEET!!! Y’ALL ARE BONED NOW!!!! FUCKIN BONEROWNED!!!!

——————————————

Godzilla! My bruh! My dude! You didn’t HAVE TO get up right where that bridge was!!! 😂😂 Ya douche bag!!!

——————————————

At the same time, tho, I can just hear him going, “Ah! FUCK! NOT AGAIN!!! Sunova bitch!! Motherfuckin!! STOP BUILDING sHIT SO DAMN HIGH!!! Goddammit!”

——————————————

You know, with all the Bright twinkly lights in Hong Kong, I can’t help but think of the sequel to the original Gojira movie ( that I can’t remember the title of ,rn) where he was fucking triggered by fucking lights. And I wonder if this little scene where he’s stomping all through Hong Kong is a tribute to that or whatever. But I’m probably overthinking it.

[Sober Edit: it was Godzilla Raids Again]

——————————————

*GASP* HOLY SIHIIIT!!! The axe is made out of Godzilla skute!?!?! GOLY BALLS THAT’S NOT ONLY COOL BUT CONTRIBUTES MORE TO THE FACT THAT THESE KAIJU (likely Kong’s species, in particular) WERE REALLY FUCKING INTELLIGENT AMD TJOUGHT, “Imma beat this muthafucka with their own spiky thing! Bc that’s what screws us over, so, why WOULD’nt it hurt them!?!” I need SO MUCH MORE of this Kaiju/Kong culture studied and shit! HOLY FUCK!!!

It even fucking glows!! Like ... they managed to fucking piece together that its glow was a fucking warning sign like Sting or some shit!!!! Holy fuck!!!!

Also, how does that work? How are the skutes still connected even after dismemberment???

 ——————————————

NO FUCKIN WAY WRE YOU—AAAAAAAAHHH!!! Excalibur that shit my boi!!!!

——————————————

I FUCKIN LOVE YHIS MOVIE HOLY SHIT!!!

——————————————

“ that’s Apex property now,”

Excuse me bitch! Are we really not gonna listen to the scientist who saying “hey we don’t understand the shit out of this fucking power! Maybe we should hold off on taking some fucking samples!”

Are we really just gonna ignore that shit???????

 ——————————————

Kong said: TRY ME BITCH!!!!

——————————————

Oh thank the GODS this Serizawa dude is taking precautions like his old man! Also, what is his relation to Ken Watanabe’s Serizawa!?!?!

——————————————

UH OH!! SOLDIER DUDES GETTIN ATE!!!

——————————————

OH SHIT!!! PILOT JUST GOT ATE!!! FUCKIN DRAGON BASEMENT UP IN THIS SHIT!!!

——————————————

BITCH YOU REALLY GON THROW A ROCK AT IT!!! FUCKIN NONSENSE OF THIS BITCH!!!

——————————————

LOVE AND FITE ME ENERGY IS STORED IN THE ATOMIC BREATH

——————————————

“Shoot him!”

WHY!!!???!! He literally had NO problem with you before then!!!

——————————————

Why does white man who don’t know anything about this vehicle suddenly know how to pilot this shit!???!?!!!!!

 ——————————————

Y’all love had SO MUCH wine!

——————————————

The FUCK this dude got a flip flop phone for!!!?!????!!!?

Da fuq!?!?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 yeah that’s the most unrealistic part of this entire fucking movie! Not the fuckin Kaiju robots. Not the fucking hollow earth bullshit! The fucking flip phone! LMFAO!!!!

——————————————

“Maintenance! I’M MAINTENANCE!!! This bitch ain’t buying it”

That made me laugh WAY FUCKIN harder that it should have!!!!

——————————————

Y’all really ganna try to shoot at a kid!?! REALLY!?!?!??!

——————————————

GAWD, I’m so glad I impulse bought these oatmeal bites from Dominos! 🤤😋

[Sober Edit: I have no idea how my autocorrect managed to convert “Parmesan” to “oatmeal,” but okay! 😆😅]

——————————————

Kong be like, “Hey, bitch!!! You lookin’ for me!?!?”

——————————————

Find you a partner that bites your neck like Godzilla does! Lmao!

Sorry, I’ll be crawling back into my hell hole, now.

——————————————

EAT YOUR FOOKIN VEGETABLES GODZILLA!!!!!

——————————————

Did Godzilla just axe throw with his fuckin teefs!!!????!?!?!

——————————————

THIS IS THE FOOKIN MONSTER VS MONSTER FIGHTS IVE BEEN CRAVING SINCE KING OF THE MONSTERS HOLY SHIT!!!!

——————————————

“Really? Groupies, again?”

First of all, again!?! What happened last time???

Secondly, where tf are YOUR grpupies, asshole! No need to judge! Ya cunt!

——————————————

“There can only be one alpha,”

Really! You really gotta bring your toxic masculinity into a fuckin monster fight, my dude!?!

——————————————

Kong said, “Yeet! YEET SELF!!!”

——————————————

I am living for the feral fight scenes!!!!

——————————————

Kong’s expression , tho! 🤣🤣🤣

Like, “Can you ducking NOT, Godzilla?!? Can you, like, fucking chill??!!? Aight, fine! ASDASHKLSDJKLDZJL ADKLKDZDJ!!!!!!”

——————————————

Awwwww! Godzilla let Kong go, bc he knows what it’s like to be the last of his species! 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭

——————————————

“This is how we [...] win!”

Oh, honey, you ‘bout to die! Lmao! 😂

——————————————

Oh god! I knew he was going to use the sign for “coward” at the most inappropriate time! Lmao! At least the Precious Girls is smart enough to know what Dumbass White Man means, lol

——————————————

Oh, thank god we do t see this dumbass in any sequels!

——————————————

Dammit, he escaped!

——————————————

This girl is too good!

——————————————

Did y’all really think you were ganna break into a semi-sentient Mecha-Godzilla by GUESSING ITS FUCKING PASSWORD!!?!?!?!!!!???? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

YEAH!!!! TEAM-UP COMING THROUGH!!!!!

——————————————

“I was hoping to die with adults, but that’s okay,”

🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

“I’VE GOT TO DIE WITB YOU AND SOBER!!?!?!”

GOD, I love this movie!!!!

——————————————

OOOOOOHHHH HOLY SHIT!!!!! 😱😱😱😱😱 He powering up the axe!!!!!

——————————————

YOOOOOO KONG WENT PREDATOR/YOUTJA ON MECHA-GODZILLA’s ASS!!!!

——————————————

Kong said, “I’m done, y’all! Imma take a nap!”

——————————————

“Dad. Uh...Bernie.”

I fucking love Bernie!!! 😂😂😂😂

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JIA NOOOO!!! Don’t go running between two disgruntled Kaiju bby!!

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Yo, why do monsters have less toxic masculinity than we do??? Lol!

——————————————

Yaaaaaay! Kong has a new home!!

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WELP!!! I fucking loved this movie, and I highly recommend it to everyone!!!

[ishouldreallybeelsewhere]

I Don’t Dance; An Analysis

By someone with no idea what they’re doing

Can I just say,,, this song slaps. Like, ignore everything,, all the connections, all the subtext, all the whatever, this song (I Don’t Dance from High School Musical 2) is just rlly good. I’ve been listening to it a lot (shocker) and I have to say, perhaps pop isn’t so bad. I’m lying, of course, rock forever, but also not the point. Now, onto what I was actually planning on talking about.

Songs can say a lot, especially when paired with dances, and to see the full meaning of a song, one must look past it’s surface level meaning and dive deep into the subtext. Contextually, the song makes sense as just talking about baseball, but on a surface level only. Look into it for even a moment and you’re sure to find all the queer subtext you need to confirm the theory that High School Musical as a whole is a metaphor for accepting your queer identity.

A quick overview of the song; it starts as a friendly game of baseball between Ryan and Chad, the dancer and the jock. That’s fairly straight-forward, and as they play, Ryan encourages Chad to dance, insisting that he can and should, while dancing in ways that enhance his own playing. I should mention right now, I know fuck-all about baseball. I learnt to spell it, like, 15 minutes ago. It should not be spelt like that. Regardless, I’m gonna do my best to some-what grasp/avoid the thing entirely. Anyway, I’m getting off track. Back to what I was saying, the song is Ryan encouraging Chad to dance, in a somewhat flirtatious matter. The song ends after a dance routine involving the entirety of both teams, and then, in the following scene, Chad and Ryan are shown having a good time, talking and laughing while eating lunch, WEARING EACH OTHER’S CLOTHES!! If someone can give me a heterosexual explanation for that,,,, don’t.

Now, for what I’ve been meaning to get to; what does the song actually mean? (I use the phrase ‘Now,’ at the start of a lot of sentences, sorry in advance.)

Obviously, it’s about accepting your queer identity and living your life to its fullest, not allowing the heteronoramilty of the world hold you back. Anyone who’s ever watched the movie can tell you that, however, as is the way with any piece of explanatory writing, I have to assume that you’ve never even seen any of the movies (heathen).

The plot doesn’t matter. I don’t care about all but four characters, Zeke, Sharpay, Chad, and Ryan. This will primarily be about the latter two, and their own acceptance of who they are.

From the start, Ryan is flamboyant and feminine, the archetype of a gay man, as ‘subtlety’ isn’t really a thing in High School Musical. Less so in the sequel, aside from the sub-text of course, but they had to get that past Disney’s censors. Also, Ryan is one of the ‘villains’ of the trilogy, meaning that he can be queer-coded as much as the writers desire. Off track once again. I apologise. No I don’t. Anyway, Ryan is a theatre kid. The theatre kid, excluding his sister, of course, but as I said previously, Sharpay is not the topic of today’s discussion. Why is theatre so important you ask? Well, not only is the whole point of the trilogy theatre and musicals, but it’s often associated with queer identity, gay men, and femininity. While that is not true, necessarily, it works well as a metaphor and for subtext in the series. Ryan’s theatre/dance-centered personality is made as such because he is one of the few openly gay students in the movie. Theatre and dance, in this context, are queer. And Ryan is incredibly open with his sexuality, especially after he steps out from his sister’s shadow and comes into himself, realising who he is in his entirety.

Chad is on the opposite side of the spectrum. He’s, to put it bluntly, a Chad. Sporty, masculine, ‘straight’, everything he’s expected to be, but, secretly, he knows that that’s not quite true. He’s likely bisexual, as we never recive a label I will refer to him as such, and he knows this about himself. He accepts it, but refuses to act on it, or really acknowledge it, so it is not true acceptance. He is still hiding and suppressing part of himself, dancing only when everyone around him is doing the same, conforming to the heterosexual society that we all must reside in. So much of who he appears to be centered around sport and straightness, but after he is left by his closest friend (Asshole Troy. My cousin stunt-doubled Zac Effron once lol) he’s unsure where to go, and accepts an offer to play a friendly game of baseball against Ryan.

Ryan knows that Chad is bi. He knows that Chad is suppressing and hiding a part of himself, and, on some level, understands what that’s like, and knows how harmful that can be, and takes it upon himself to change that, and the game begins. Literally. And of all games, it’s baseball, one of the only sports I know filled to the brim with euphemisms and gay slang, and let me tell you, I know very little about both things, but I did actaully do research before this.

Chad knows what Ryan is trying to do, and rejects it, insisting that he has to ‘just do his thing.’ He steps up, the batter, insisting that he can be straight, that he doesn’t need that other part of himself to feel whole. Ryan sees clearly that this is bullshit.

‘I’ll show you that it’s one in the same, baseball, dancing, same game.’ In this line, Ryan is explaining that Chad doesn’t need to give up his masculinity or his love for sport to live in his true identity, that dancing and baseball are the same thing, different flavours. He can stay who he is while still being true to himself and stop suppressing a part of himself. He’s also flirting, a lot. Saying that he can show Chad what he’s missing.

‘I wanna play ball now, and that’s all. This is what I do. It ain't no dance that you can show me,’ replies Chad, saying how he doesn’t agree, and has no wish to change who he is, regardless of the consequences. He doesn’t think that the two parts of his identity can live in harmony, and he’s gotten this far in life while suppressing his queer side, he can do it forever. Of course, as you likely already know, dear reader, this is far from true, and Ryan has made it his mission to prove that, through song and suspiciously flirtatious dance.

‘You’ll never know, if you never try.’ Ryan now is telling Chad that he’ll never know if he can be happier as an open bisexual if he doesn’t try to expirience life in a different way, and is also telling Chad he’s dtf.

‘There’s just one little thing that stops me every time.’ Chad is on the verge of agreeing, accepting Ryan’s advances, when it cuts to his team, watching him play. He can’t come out, can’t fully accept himself, even if he wants to, without risking rejection from his team, from his friends, and having to possibly leave behind the world of sports that he so loves. The masculinity is fragile in this one, I must say. But his team not backing him up, leaving him behind, that scares Chad more than anything at that point in his life. Even if it is living his truth, he won’t risk the life already built up around him. In his eyes, nothing would truly be worth it. But Ryan won’t give up on him.

Then the pair go back and forth, arguing over whether Chad has it in him to accept it, risk everything to be who he truly is. ‘If I can do this then you can do that.’ Ryan is telling Chad that if he can play baseball while still retaining his queer identity, then Chad can do the same while dancing. Doing one thing does not invalidate or cancel out the other. He can, and should, do both, to become a more complete version of himself. However, Chad’s team is still supporting him only in baseball, at this point in the song anyway.

‘Hey, batter, batter. Hey batter, batter, swing.’ At this point, no one is actually swinging at the ball, showing that this is not what they’re talking about. ‘Swing that way,’ is often used to refer to whom one is attracted to, and Ryan is telling Chad to ‘swing,’ to come to terms with his attraction to men, and to Ryan himself. While they are singing this, Chad is literally approaching first base, not too dissimilar from the bases in a relationship. Like, any other sport, any one at all, and they had to pick this one. Even urban dictionary agrees it’s gay as all hell.

‘Bases loaded, do your dance. It’s easy.’ Here, Ryan is telling Chad that baseball is almost a dance on its own, it requires movement and coordination like dance, and at this point Chad can’t disagree, because the bases are loaded (I do actually know what that means) and he has to hit the ball and free them up, else something happens (reaching the end of my baseball knowledge sorry).

‘I've got what it takes, playin my game. So you better spin that pitch. You're gonna throw me, yeah.’ Here Chad is admitting that Ryan is distracting him, his dance and words throwing him off his game. ‘I’ll show you how I swing.’ Chad is play-flirting now, not-quite-mockingly responding to Ryan while dancing, ever so slightly, while still remaining in the game. He comes closer to accepting it than he has before, but still refusing to truly accept it.

With Ryan’s line, ‘hit it out of the park,’ we return ever so slightly to the literal playing of the game, and Ryan telling Chad to give it his best shot, showing his support despite being on the opposing team. Moments later, members of Chad’s team begin dancing as well, using the movements to enhance their play somewhat, and, subtly, showing their support for dancing and all that comes with it. Chad, however, has still not reached that point.

‘Lean back, tuck it in, take a chance. Swing it out, spin around, do the dance.’ Ryan’s now explaining how connected dancing and baseball really are, how they can easily coexist, of course playing into what Ryan has been trying to convince Chad of the whole time, that he can accept himself and still remain as Chad-like as he wants.

‘I wanna play ball, not dance hall.’ Chad doesn’t care, instead staying steadfast in his position that sport and dance must stay seperate, but his actions betray his words, as, however mockingly it may be, he does in fact dance along to those lines.

‘I can prove it to you til you know it's true. 'Cause I can swing it, I can bring it to the diamond too.’ Ryan is not giving up. He’s trying his best to say that he’s a dancer, sure, but his skills help him on the field. Were he not a dancer, he would likely not be as good at baseball as he is, explaining that if you are repressing a part of yourself, then you are not living up to your full potential, and not living life to its fullest.

‘You’re talking a lot, show me what you got.’ Prove it, Chad is saying as he throws the ball. And Ryan swings, and hits it, sending it far out over the playing field, proving his point, and with that, Ryan relents. Now, as he says he doesn’t dance, he’s dancing with his whole team behind him. They’re showing their support, and the dance becomes almost making fun of his past stance, and now he and Ryan flirt relentlessly through the song, as they dance.

They repeat their banter, all while dancing, and they come extremely close, closer than anyone else in the court, coming closer and closer to first base.

‘You can do it.’ It’s Chad’s team now, dancing behind him, showing their support for him, and insisting that he can dance, he can accept his identity in its whole, and they will still be behind him, still accept him for who he is. Chad and Ryan dance across from each other, back and forth, all of both teams and the crowd, all of them showing support.

Even as it returns to Chad batting, he does so bouncing on his toes to the music, and as he scores a home run, clearing the bases, each of his team members who are on the bases reach home with a flourish, a dance move of their own, even though they themselves are straight. Likely.

However, during the whole song, Ryan and Chad were openly flirting, the song is many things, as Chad knew his sexuality, he just wasn’t comfortable enough to admit it. At first the flirting was jokingly, on Chad’s side anyway, but tensions rise as the song continues, and Ryan makes sure Chad understands that this isn’t a joke, he means it. And that takes a few minutes for Chad to truly accept. The song is about self-acceptance and the chemistry between the two characters, more chemistry than literally any other characters, including Troy and Gabriella.

As the song ends, and Chad scores a home run, winning the game, the two fall over each other at the home base, and it’s over, the scene is anyway, and with the end of the game comes the end of Chad’s suppression. He can finally accept his bisexuality with the knowledge that his team will stay behind him and that he can be happy with a man just as he could with a woman, something that prior to this song, he didn’t truly believe.

And then, in the next scene, Ryan and Chad are wearing each other’s clothes, talking about the game in a far friendlier manner than any previous interaction. Together, they have hotdogs and good conversation, and the swapping of their clothes, including hats, implies that they totally fucked. Not to sound insensitive, obviously, but please, if you can think of any other explanation, please enlighten me.

Now, how does this tie into the rest of High School Musical? I should mention now I’ve not seen the third one and can barely remember the other two. However, I believe I know enough for my point to have some grounds. In this movie trilogy, theatre is queerness, as I have already explained, and conforming to society is heteronormativity. The path of Troy accepting that he loves theatre and basketball at the same time is one of accepting himself in his entirety. While I don’t personally believe that the character himself is queer, it is still a path of acceptance that still resonates with much of the LGBTQ+ community who would watch this movie.

The whole idea of the series is rejecting the status quo and living your life without rejecting any part of yourself. This is taken to another level between Chad and Ryan, someone who has accepted himself completely, and someone who doesn’t want to give up the life he has. There is little else to be said on the matter (LIES! I could talk about this for so long) so it appears time to wrap it up.

I don’t care that much about High School Musical. That may seem surprising, but before this weekend, I couldn’t tell you the character’s names. It is a strange feeling to fall so completely into something that you ignore all schoolwork to write an analysis (strong word) of a clip of a movie. I downloaded the Osu map (after finding it by accident) and played it until I got an S, even tho I’ve had the game only for a couple weeks, barely ever play it, and the easiest version of the map was 2.3 stars. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve listened to it, and I had to finish this piece of writing so I could have some semblance of peace, as all my friends are tired of hearing about it but I need to get my thoughts out. Perhaps now that this is done I can pay attention to the science class that’s been happening around me. I think I’ve said all I can, and I hope that is enough to satisfy my mind. And I am well aware that there is someone out there who has done this with fewer and better words, but I don’t really care.

TLDR; High School Musical 2 is gay, and even more gay than that is Chad and Ryan. Thank you and goodnight.

[cosmicbash]

One the angsty prompt ideas I’ve been thinking about is Kells practicing how to cook for weeks so he can surprise Em by cooking him dinner, maybe for an anniversary or something, and on the day Kells has planned to surprise him, Em is hours late, leaving Kells alone for the evening. If you’re interested maybe you could write something like this? 🥰

3 years together. One thousand and ninety five fucking days between him and this old dorky man.

It's insane. Downright impossible to believe but Colson knows it's as real and true as the 2 year sobriety chip he's got hung around his neck on the gold chain Marshall gifted him with it this morning.

Both their relationship and his sobriety are as intertwined as their lives are now. Marshall's like the glue that holds all of his pieces together. Picking Colson back up, time and time again whenever he shattered in the beginning and filling in the gaps with his own loose pieces until it was Colson's turn to do the same. Which, by then, it only made sense to combine their puzzles and broaden the picture.

Now Marshall swoops in for Casie's PTA meetings he can’t make during tour. Holding the phone and helping him FaceTime for soccer games and school conferences when flight delays or bad luck keeps him late.

Colson tags along to Whitney's first few dates out in LA, weaving through the public spaces Marshall never could without drawing attention just to make sure she's safe and respected.

They tag team any situation involving the girls, even though Alaina and Hailey both still snicker at him from time to time, and Casie rolls her eyes at Marshall's rules. They're more than just dating now.

They're family.

And even just thinking about that brings tears to Colson's eyes.

Or maybe it's the onions. Baze said chewing gum helped mitigate this fucking problem but goddammit does it burn-

"Fuck!"

He has no idea how he got it in his mind that he could actually cook a meal, let alone a full anniversary dinner for Marshall but here he is. A pot and pan already cooking on the stove and his fingers knicked a dozen times in his rush to cut up more veggies for the sauce. 

It's insane.

But Colson's following through with it anyway, because he fucking loves Marshall and that bastard cooks dinner for them every single holiday or occasion so it's about time he stepped up to the plate and did it himself. 

Plus he's been secretly practicing for weeks with Baze over both FaceTime and a few in person lessons. Perfecting his simmering styles and meat seasoning to make the tastiest meal he can manage all on his own.

So far the last three times he's made the dish his bassist had given stellar reviews so there's little chance he'll somehow fuck it up tonight knowing it's for Marshall…..at least, he hopes.

The minor setbacks his butchered fingers have brought aside though, so far everything was coming along perfectly. His noodles are boiling (never over the rim, thank you wooden spoon trick), his meats marinating, and as soon as he tosses these sliced onions in his sauce will be cooking down beautifully.

All in all the night is starting to look like it just might be perfect.

Until 6 o'clock passes by and Colson's ears never pick up the click of the front door knob, or the hum of Marshall's escalade pulling up front outside.

The food's still simmering, minutes away from being actually done so he doesn't worry too much. Sure he was hoping to have a sweet moment where his boyfriend comes home and catches him cooking at the stove like a traditional housewife, but seeing his face when the food's done and plated promises to be just as cute.

Besides, Marshall has always fit the housewife role so much better than him anyway. Even the apron Colson's wearing is one of the older rapper's, stolen from his small collection in the pantry to protect his designer sweater.

Colson doesn't start to worry at 6. Traffic can be a bitch.

7 though? And then 7:30 when his texts go unread and his calls ring all the way through to voice-mail? That's when the blonde starts to fret. 

He's luckily put off plating because some brief flash on uncertainty had run through him after the food finished so it's stayed warm and simmering on the stove. But even that had to come to an end before 7:30 because his sauce would singe or his noodles might squish, so now Colson's trying to keep busy by perfecting the presentation. Shaky fingers swiping around the edges of Marshall's plate to clean up a splatter of sauce. Every Chopped Judge rambling off feedback in his head until he has it looking like something he's certain even Gordon fucking Ramsey would ask for a bite of.

By 8 the dinner table is set. His plate, Marshall's, the bucket of low alcoholic wine they both love chilling as a centerpiece. Colson even lights a few candles and adds some flowers from this mornings gift exchanges to keep himself from screaming.

There's a pit in his stomach that's steadily been growing though. Every passing minute and glance to his phone where he finds no change only carving it deeper. 

Marshall should be home. He never runs this late at the studio without a call, let alone without a message. He's treated his work like any other 9-5 job since before they ever even got together, always strict about his routine and careful to make up for over run hours by leaving earlier the next day. Usually Colson likes to bust his balls and insist he live a little more spontaneously but tonight isn't the one to pull that.

Especially not if it means Marshall's going to completely forget to check his fucking phone and leave him trying not to think the worst.

Colson only males it another 5 minutes before he caves and texts Paul. Fingers tapping fast across his screen to draft multiple desperate sounding messages before he finally settles on a "Em bust his phone again?" That feels just casual enough to not embarrass him in the off chance Marshall decides to burst through the front door seconds after it sends.

The door stays closed though and Paul doesn't open the message at all. 

Now Colson can't even start passive aggressively eating dinner on his own if he wanted too. The pit in his stomach has torn itself open wide into a nauseous chasm. Every scary possibility he wanted to avoid thinking about spilling forth from the dark trench like ghouls.

He's dead. Some crazy fan broke into the studio and shot the whole place up. No one's gotten around to tell him yet, that's all. They're too busy dealing with the fallout.

No, Em's security is beyond top tier, and with how close Colson and his current bodyguard are he knows the guy would call him immediately. Marshall's fine.

Unless… what if he was in a car accident? Or some road rage incident gone fatal? Colson's seen Marshall's short temper flare up while driving. They've made dozens of jokes about it in the past, so is it really that unreasonable to believe?

Colson's pacing in the front haul when he calls Porter. Phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he fights his shoe laces, heart racing in his chest. Prepping to fly out of the house the second Denaun tells him what fucking hospital Marshall's staying in, praying it's at the ICU section and not some fucking morgue.

"Kelly?" The older man sounds confused when he finally answers. Voice high and tone light like he's expecting this to be a butt dial. "What's up man?"

The lack of rush or worry in Denaun's voice almost soothes Colson's panic right on the spot. Surely he wouldn't sound so casual if something had happened. 

It's enough to keep Colson from immediately pleading for Marshall's safety at the least. "H-hey, uh nothing really-" Maybe Marshall is even with him right now, realizing how fucking late its gotten and how shit of a boyfriend he's been and that's why Denaun sounds awkward too. "Just uh, waiting for Marsh to get his slow ass home ya know? Sorry, aheh, I'm probably sounding like a fucking needy girlfriend right now, calling his friends and shit-" the longer Colson rambles the more embarrassed he actually feels in the moment.

God he must sound pathetic right now. Panicking over Marshall being a few hours late.

"Waiting? Didn't Marshall head out like 2 hours ago?"

"W-what?"

Colson's blood feels like actual ice in his veins.

"He isn't home? I mean, I know he was gonna stop at- fuck is it already half past 8? Marshall seriously isn't home?" Denaun's sudden panic only heightens Colson's own, but he can't get any more words to come out. Not with how a rock feels like it's jumped up his throat. "Shit, Ryan are you getting through to him? Try Paul-"

Ryan's there too? 

"What? Paul's gotta fucking answer-"

They can't get ahold of Paul either?

"Kelly have you-"

Marshall's missing. Colson's been standing around making dinner for hours, worrying over the portion sizes and appearance of his plates and Marshall's been fucking missing. What kind of partner is he? What will he even tell Hailey? Alaina? And fuck Casie is supposed to be coming up this weekend so they can all go vacation together before his next tour-

The front door bumping into his shoe startles Colson out of his frozen panic. Denaun's angry shouting dropping from his ear, as he twists and meets a pair of sheepish blue eyes peeking around the hardwood.

"Hey." 

Marshall's…..

"Is that my apron?"

So fucking dead.

"Is this your--" Colson's fingers are curling around the edge of the door so fast he doesn't even care that it makes his phone fly to the floor. "That's what you want to fucking say to me!?" His anger is boiling fast, replacing the cold in his veins with lava. "You fucking piece of-"

Marshall stumbling inside with the yanked door is expected, but the flash of bandages and a sling douse Colson's flames like a bucket of water. "Ow, fuck just give me a second to explain-"

He's hurt.

Now with all of Marshall visible Colson's hyperaware of dry blood splattered on his white graphic tee and scratches partially hidden within the rapper's beard along his cheek. "I got in an accident out on the M-8, it was minor but-"

Colson really can't handle all these rapid mood switches Marshall is putting him through today.

“You fucking idiot-“ Tears are bubbling up in his eyes and it’s like his hands can’t reach his partner fast enough. Pulling Marshall into his arms for a tight hug despite the pained noises his actions inspire. “Stupid, old asshole-“ Marshall’s hurt, the cars probably wrecked, but he’s home and that’s enough of a relief to finally smother that pit weighing down his stomach. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

A moment passes before he’s hugged back, shock more than likely freezing his partner up but when Marshall does loop his good arm around Colson he pulls him close. So close Colson is the one who’s bones feel like they might ache. “Can’t make any promises about that,” The older rapper’s palm feels warm when it climbs to cup his neck, Marshall’s face turning to press a kiss into Colson’s throat. 

That brush of lips is the final crack to release the flood gates.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I really really fucking love you."

"I know baby."

"I don't care how old your ass is, you better hold out and fucking die after me like a proper goddamn boyfriend, you hear me Marshall?" He's getting snot all over the older rapper's shirt. Full on smearing it across his own cheek and the fabric with every pointless rub of his face. "I love you so fucking much. Can't do this without you."

"Told you I'm not dying after you unless you kill me first, and I'm chasing you into the afterlife once you do go too. Fuck all the marriage shit, death ain't parting us either you brat." Marshall's tone is light and his palm is doing wonders to comfort him by rubbing circles into his back. It's enough to slow his hiccupped breathing down a few notches. "I dunno if you noticed but, I'm a little obsessed with you."

That drags out a wet snort. "Y-yeah?" When Colson pulls back to meet Marshall's eyes he swears he can see a wet shimmer starting to glaze over his partner’s as well. "Prove it then."

There's a flicker of something in blue eyes, so fast that Colson almost thinks he hallucinates the emotion altogether. But then Marshall's wrapped up arm wiggles between their bodies. The dark blue of the sling catching and sliding so his scratched up fist can shimmy its way partially out. "Planned on it-" There's something clutched tight there, black peeking out from between Marshall's finger and thumb. It's got Colson's heart dropping down into his stomach all over again. "What do you think I was driving so late on the M-8 for?"

"Marshall-" It can't be.

"Colson." But his shithead of an accident victim boyfriend is pulling back, both his good arm and slung arm awkwardly flailing in the air for a moment as he drops down on one knee. The visible wince not hidden as well as Colson imagines the man wants it to be. But Marshall's eyes are softening, and the blonde feels completely cemented in place. The only part of him moving being the uncontrollable shaky quiver of his bottom lip. "I had a whole moment planned, there were flowers, balloons, and those stupidly expensive alcoholic chocolates you love, but they all got absolutely trashed in the crash. Like, half of Detroit is probably going to think the Macies Thanksgiving parade started early. Paul called to have it all replaced, and honestly some intern is probably going to come banging on the door in about 20 minutes but I don't want to wait-" There's a flash of genuine worry that's furrowing the skin between Marshall's brows as he continues. "So I'm sorry this isn't gonna be that fancy perfect proposal you've always dreamed of-"

"Shut up." Colson's voice can't go above a whisper. His tone quick and clipped from how anxious he is to hear the man finally finish. "Just- shut up, ask me. Ask me Marsh, please-"

"Fine, always need to rush me."The rapper's lip quirks at the corners. Hands transferring the small box between eachother with a bit of fumbling. "Will you, Colson Baker-" Until Marshall can finally get it open with an audible clunk. "Legally commit to being with my annoying old ass forever?" 

[normal-thoughts-official]

not to be writing about high school fucking musical in the year of our lord 2020 but i feel like the most criminally underrated aspect of chyan is that their characters have quite literally the same core

meaning, they are both very loyal, in such a way that they allow themselves to be overshadowed by people with less talent than them

troy is the captain of the basketball team. but he's not what brings the team together. dont get me wrong, he's not a bad captain. you see that in Getcha Head In The Game and Work It Out, he's actually pretty good at getting people to follow him and he can take a basketball practice on his own. he's good

but chad's better

chad's the one who keeps morale up. chad's the one who devises important plans and strategies. chad's the one who can get everyone to agree with him and set their plans in motion. in hsm1, all the other basketball players are constantly following his lead. whether they're sabotaging troy or apologizing to him and trying to make it better, theyre always following chad. they talk a big game about how they need troy to keep the team together, but in all 3 movies there's a point where troy is angsting and ends up leaving the team to its own devices, and honestly, they turned out to be pretty damn fine without him dedicating himself to them, every time. in fact, it looks like other characters wouldnt even have had a problem with troy fucking off to do his thing if chad weren't there to convince them that they needed troy

i firmly believe that the reason troy is captain and not him is (racism and favoritism for being the coach's son aside) precisely because chad always hyped troy up. that is shown subtly in many ways. even as chad was the one to scream "what team?" he always had his hands on troy's shoulders. when they went to party in hsm1, chad put troy on top and had him be carried. he gave troy the game ball. he said "who voted troy team captain?" to which their teammates replied "we do". it always looked to me like what made the basketball team flock around troy wasnt troy himself, but chad. and chad was such a great leader in that sense that no one ever realized that, maybe not even himself. he was just good at getting people together to follow a common goal, see themselves as a team, and set them on a same path. but he channeled that to troy, instead of allowing himself to be seen as the actual leader. almost as if he couldn't believe, himself, that he had the means for that, so he had to say that it was troy who brought them together, make troy the face of the team, because he couldn't see himself as it (and there's probably a good chunk of racism and internalized racism coming into play here)

(also, not to excuse the hsm1 bullshit, but that might explain why he was so pissed that troy wanted to sing. because deep down, he knew that he was bringing the team together, and that he cared more than troy, and maybe he felt like troy wasnt doing justice to his role as team captain because he knew that that role wasn't rightfully troy's, and he felt betrayed because he quite literally gave troy that position)

(again, not excusing it, and i think all of this happened on a subconscious level, and it's not really troy's fault that this happened - he's too stupid to be this manipulative lbr, i think it's more that white privilege blinded him to what was happening - but i think it was definitely there)

ryan follows a similar theme. again, it's not that sharpay isn't talented. she's very talented as a singer and performer

but he's more

he's a better dancer, he has more stage presence, he's a better actor and he channels way more emotion than she does. plus he actually coreographs and creates artistically, and it's clear to me that, while sharpay loves the spotlight, he loves the art. not to acknowledge hsm3 canon, but he got the juilliard scholarship. he coreographed all the musical for their prom. he coreographed with like a thousand wildcats in hsm2 and actually got them all to do a pretty rad job. he even got the dumb anti musical jocks to participate, and do it well

but well, sharpay always overshadowed him because, quite frankly, he let her, same as chad (i mean she had a more active role in purposefully overshadowing him than troy did chad but still). that's actually acknowledged in canon so i dont feel like i need to expand a lot on it, but sharpay purposefully put ryan down and tried to dull his light and he let her, because he had this weird sense that he needed to do this with her

(i dont really know why, but i theorize that it might be because doing theatre with sharpay makes the fact that hes the Gay Theatre Kid slightly less visible. like, if he's doing this whole gimmick with sharpay, they're the weird art twins, but if he's alone, he's the artsy gay guy. sharpay taking all the attention is even kind of good, because the attention on him for what he does would be all but 100% negative. also, we see in hsm2 that his father has this thing with him and always trying to adjust his hat and change his outfits and other small micromanaging attitudes that show that he's not 100% comfortable with who ryan is and how he expresses himself. but if ryan is helping sharpay, then it's a bit more bearable for him, because its not his son, flamboyant twinkle town kid, its his son and daughter, artistic duo)

anyway. and its funny because in hsm2, when they got all gay for each other, they both were kind of forcefully ripped away from the shadow casters. and ryan realized for the first time that he thrived and did just as well, maybe better, without sharpay, but chad didn't. ryan emancipated himself from sharpay (or well, began to, because its not that easy, but it was a huge step), but chad didn't emancipate himself from troy. in fact, i think his association with him may have gotten stronger

and it would be so interesting to me to see more fics where they bond over that, and help each other realize that they do stand up on their own, and that they deserve recognition for their talents and to spread their wings. it would be particularly nice to see chad realize that he's been sabotaging himself this whole time, and watch him grow more confident and aware of his capabilities and use them to bring himself up along with the team, instead of standing in the sidelines after carrying them on his back

it would be beautiful to see them bond over that and grow and flourish together