#headfirst slide my beloved my EVERYTHING!!!

[heaveniowa]

my new favorite thing is watching the fall out boys sing along to headfirst slide

#BUT I WILL NEVER END UP LIKE HIM!!!!! #btw idc if they sing along to other songs as well I only care about this one #headfirst slide my beloved my EVERYTHING!!! #00 #joe trohman #andy hurley #pete wentz #I swear he's there in the last gif dhdhfjfjfj #joe #andy #pete

[mortalfortaxpurposes]

Hey there

Favourite fOB SONGS?

hi :D

uhm. I accidentally wrote you an essay, so I’m putting it under the cut:

I tried to rank these but that's absolutely not happening, so I'm going to give you somewhat of a top ten, in a random order:

the phoenix - this is probably the most random choice out of all of them, but I love it so much. it's the very first fob song that I listened to years ago and it holds a special place in my heart. also I adore the drums in this song, and the way they punctuate the words, and patrick's pissed as fuck tone to go along with it. angry srar sound, my beloved.

the kids aren't alright - I love how post-hiatus their themes have shifted from fame to legacy, and this is the legacy song. it's realising that you made it so much farther than you ever thought you would, like, doesn't it fuck with your head a little bit how we're all still here? and it's also looking back at all of it from the perspective of someone older and happier and so much healthier, and going, it was worth it. I'd do it all again. I also love the little reference to the this ain't a scene music video, you know, the video that is also a very self-aware look at their fame and legacy. I could sit here and write you an essay about every single line in this song, but anyway. I go through phases where I forget how much I love this song, but I recently listened to this instrumental and just started sobbing, so.

the last of the real ones - god I love their soulmate songs. I love that pete said it's the closest thing to a love song they've ever done. I love the way this song slots into their reoccurring themes and I particularly adore his stars and planets metaphors and the way they return throughout their discography. though it will always haunt me that they took out "be a collapsing star with me" from the original version of the chorus. patrick why. fun fact this is one of my most streamed songs of all time, apparently.

twin skeleton's (hotel in nyc) - GOD I LOVE THEIR SOULMATE SONGS. this one has my favorite imagery in their entire discography. that first verse? come on. the fact that it's such a dark and twisted and angry song but it's so loving and hopeful underneath that. pete said "this is a love song to me", and, like, yeah. sometimes that level of emotional vulnerability is a little messy and ugly. sometimes the person that knows you like that is also the person that knows what makes you tick, but that's also the person that you're not afraid of getting into that dark place with. I also adore it as an album closer, with the repetition of "hold on" closing out the record. amazing.

I've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth (summer song) - this is the most devastating song, and that's partly knowing the context of it and partly just... the way patrick sings it. it just sounds so heart-wrenchingly sad. I think a lot about how so much of this album is so flippant, almost a performance, and I feel like this song is the moment when suddenly that's not true anymore. when you stop wanting the attention and start telling the truth.

the (shipped) gold standard - I love how folie is an album about a band that is falling apart, and I love the reoccurring theme of just wanting to quit everything and start over. hmm, subtle. also this song is just so much fun. it doesn't matter how many times I listen to it, every single time the chorus starts I lose my shit.

headfirst slide into cooperstown on a bad bet - by far my favorite thing about fall out boy is the way the music serves the words and not the other way around. this is something patrick has talked about, specifically in reference to this album, and this song is my favorite example. I love when patrick puts on a character. I love the arrogance and bitterness covering up the insecurity. I love the way the melody is almost cocky when he's being arrogant, like he's posturing, and then everything strips back and the doubt sets in. and of course I always love the songs where patrick lets himself go nuts in the final chorus.

bob dylan - I can't really elaborate on this one, I just love it so much. it's anxious but also kind of lovely. I don't know. I'm obsessed with it. it makes me feel like driving around and being in love, which is a whole genre of fall out boy songs, I feel like. I can't believe we almost didn't get to hear it. sometimes I think about all the scrapped songs that must just be sitting on patrick's computer somewhere and it makes me want to break into his house with a usb stick.

the patron saint of liars and fakes - I love it as the album closer, thematically. the whole album is looking at this fucked up relationship and in the end it goes, will you even be sorry when we're over? I love how it incorporates the title of the album, I love the way the second verse sits on the melody, and I love pete's scream, it's one of my favorites. I miss when he used to scream on the track, they should bring that back.

the (after) life of the party - the emotion in this song is insane. fuck if it doesn't sound exactly like what a middle of the night break-down would sound like. I love how it's the same lyric over and over but the melody alone is carrying forward a whole narrative by itself. it's a sad song with really powerful vocals and I love that so much. 

#sorry if you just wanted like a list or something I have a lot of opinions #fall out boy

[patrickztump]

what r ur top 5 fob albums? :)

thank you thank you thank you anon for putting everyone at risk of my thoughts, i am forever indebted to you <3

this is deeply personal (and probably offensive to someone somewhere) and at the end of each i will also include My Recommended Tracks, because why not.

folie à deux – absolutely beautiful from start to finish, zero skip album. i have no idea where to start with this, it’s simply perfection through and through. it’s a very “full” album in as much as every song pulls you in and you become lost in the moment; you are there with the band singing along. i have genuinely never heard a more complete sounding album than this one, and that's speaking only for the original 13 tracks, not even the various bonus and deluxe editions. • recommended tracks: “headfirst slide into cooperstown on a bad bet” and “tiffany blews”

save rock and roll – this one i have such a deep, personal connection to, it truly is tied with folie and depending on the day, outranks it. it was my first true introduction to fob as a band (vs names and faces and solo work a couple years prior) and it came at a pivotal point in my life, so i hold it near and dear to my heart (seems my top three albums of all time are all comeback albums). also another zero skip album. • recommend tracks: “just one yesterday” and “miss missing you”

mania – my beloved. summer 2018 it was all i listened to - in part by choice, but also because i was too stupid to figure out how to put more songs on my phone (google play music was the bane of my existence). this one is a one track skip album (profusely apologizing to “young and menace” once again). overall i do not understand the hate mania received. is it different? yes, but no? every single fall out boy album is different from the other yet cohesive to itself, so the shock of this one being different is mind boggling to me. • recommended tracks: “bishop’s knife trick” and “heaven’s gate”

american beauty/american psycho – this album is very, very good and i love it, but a tiny piece of me feels like it’s more commercialized than any of the others. maybe in part because there were so many popular (inescapable) songs from it. • recommended tracks: “the kids aren’t alright” and “jet pack blues”

infinity on high – this one i feel like should outrank abap due to the number of favorites i have on it, but it also doesn't have "the kids aren't alright" so therefore it's fallen a rung. truly (now, i might catch flack for this one), folie outward is top tier fob to me. everything beforehand is fun but also feels like there's a bit of an age restriction (is it okay to identify with teenage angst when i myself have not been a teenager for 1.5 million years?), but that also could be an overly conscious self conscious. enjoy the damn songs. anyways, it's a fun album! that i never remember to names to any of the songs on. it's kind of a filler record for me in as much as i feel no great connection towards it or it contents, but i love it nonetheless. • recommended tracks: "'the take over, the break's over'" and "i've got all this ringing in my ears and none on my fingers"

these rankings may get me shot if i so much as mumble them aloud around certain people (especially pre hiatus fans), but i stand by them and will fight for them in their respective placements.

#thank you thank you thank you i can sleep peacefully knowing i spoke on this (and unintentionally pissed people off) 😌 #ask game #ask #anonymous

[witcher-and-his-bard]

Winter Prompts Day 8: Hot Bath 🌲

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): none Rating: general

Fic Summary: Geralt reassures Jaskier that he is very welcome at Kaer Morhen. A continuation of yesterday’s prompt.

🌲 Doing this thing  🌲

"With you? Never."

Jaskier's heart skips and he knows Geralt can hear it, is probably paying attention to it, but Geralt just offers him a soft smile and slides his hands around to the front of Jaskier's trousers. 

"This okay?" he asks and Jaskier forces himself to breathe as he nods an affirmative. 

Geralt's hands are gentle as he unclasps Jaskier's trousers and slips them down over his hips. Jaskier is still struggling to breathe, but Geralt's touch is soothing and when he guides Jaskier to lift his foot so he can pull his trousers off, Jaskier does. When he finds himself in nothing but his smalls, he feels surprisingly comfortable, although a little cold, even in Geralt's presence, and when Geralt reaches for his own shirt, Jaskier stops him. 

"Let me?" he asks and Geralt's hands drop to his side. 

Geralt lets him unbutton his trousers and while Jaskier's hands are trembling, Geralt remains still and calm. Jaskier tugs Geralt's shirt up and off and can't help but press his hands to Geralt's bare chest, fingertips tracing the lines of old scars on his skin. He's always in awe of Geralt, but seeing the evidence of all his previous battles makes him ache in a way Jaskier doesn't quite understand, too many emotions combined to be able to work through them. 

But Geralt hums softly at his touch, reminding Jaskier that all of this is in the past. Those monsters or men are probably long gone now, no longer able to do any further harm to his beloved Witcher. These scars are reminders that Geralt has persevered despite everything stacked up against him, and that thought gives Jaskier peace. 

Jaskier slides his hands down to Geralt's trousers, trying not to show how nervous he truly is about this. He feels like a virginal teenager again, undressing his first sexual partner, not like a forty-year-old man with an old friend. His fingers slip on the hem of Geralt's trousers and Geralt shifts under the touch, but as Jaskier is about to apologize, Geralt's hand slides over his jaw, tipping his head up to look at him. 

"It's okay," Geralt whispers then huffs a soft little laugh, "I've been nervous about this, too."

That seems… unbelievable. The only thing Jaskier has ever seen Geralt even slightly off guard about is Ciri, and even now he's adjusted to parenthood very well. But to be nervous about this, with him, is more than Jaskier can reconcile. 

"You're never nervous," Jaskier mumbles and Geralt grins at him. 

"Neither are you." 

And he has a point there. Jaskier hasn't been nervous, hasn't given anything much of a second thought before running in headfirst. Nothing, except Geralt. 

"Nothing's been this important before," Jaskier admits, so silent he almost doesn't hear it himself. 

"Then let me reassure you," Geralt breathes, leaning in close enough that their noses bump together. "My family wants you here. They've been waiting for years to meet you and they've been looking forward to this almost as much as I have. And as for me? I'm not going anywhere. It's been two decades, Jask, there's nothing you could do now that would make me walk away from this."

Jaskier holds his breath. Geralt is close enough now that if he tipped his head just slightly, he'd be kissing him. There's nothing you could do now that would make me walk away. Well, shit. 

Jaskier doesn't let himself second-guess it before tugging Geralt forward by his trousers and pressing their lips together. It's a little clumsy, but Geralt responds immediately, lips parting under Jaskier's to deepen the kiss. The rest of Jaskier's body goes completely still, focused only on Geralt's mouth on his own and his hands where they slide over his jaw and around the back of his neck. 

It's… so much more than he could have expected and his chest swells with an emotion so strong he feels like he'll burst with it. Geralt breaks the kiss but doesn't pull away and Jaskier pulls in a shuddering breath, fingers curling in the fabric of Geralt's trousers. He pushes himself forward, ridding Geralt of his trousers and drawing away from him. 

When they're both down to their smalls, Jaskier steps back and smiles at Geralt. He takes a steadying breath, assuring himself that this is okay and that all his worries have been unfounded. Jaskier bends to push his smalls to the floor then reaches a hand out to Geralt, who does the same before twining their fingers together. 

Jaskier leads them to the bath, but Geralt stops him from climbing in first, stepping into the water before guiding Jaskier in after him. And when Geralt sits, leaning against the edge of the tub, he pulls Jaskier down into his lap, winding his arms around him. 

"I'm sorry you were so nervous about coming up here," he hums, nuzzling against the back of Jaskier's neck. "You know you can talk to me about these things, right?"

"You seemed so happy about coming to see your family," Jaskier shrugs, "I didn't want to discourage that." 

"I was excited about bringing you to see them. But I was more anxious than I let on. I've been writing to Eskel for the last few months, trying to arrange things with him. I was too afraid to even ask you until Eskel convinced me."

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh as the confession eases his own nerves. He turns in Geralt's arms, smiling softly up at him. 

"I'll have to thank Eskel for that."

"And Lambert," Geralt adds, "though he was far less compassionate about it."

"I'm looking forward to meeting them," Jaskier says and he is. Now. He was so afraid of being rejected, but knowing that Geralt's brothers were the ones who convinced him to invite him in the first place and that Vesemir helped them all arrange this for him - he's a little overwhelmed with it all. 

"Not nervous anymore?" Geralt hums.

"Not after this. This is…" he doesn't have the words so he just shrugs and Geralt presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

"I'm glad you're happy," he whispers, "I think this was a bit stressful for everyone." Jaskier hums an affirmative and leans back against Geralt's chest. 

They lie quietly for a moment, Geralt trailing his fingers over Jaskier's bare chest and Jaskier humming quietly to fill the silence. 

"Could I-" Geralt starts hesitantly, "I could wash your hair for you if you like?"

"You don't have to do that."

"You always take such care with my hair," Geralt breathes, "I'd like to return the favour."

Jaskier's heart swells as he sits forward, letting Geralt readjust behind him. "Okay."

Geralt reaches for the bucket next to the bath, scooping water into it and dumping it abruptly over Jaskier's head. Jaskier splutters a little, but Geralt huffs a soft laugh and offers an apology in the form of a gentle kiss to the back of his head before reaching for the soap. 

Jaskier shivers at the first press of Geralt's fingers against his scalp. He's never thought about this process from the other perspective, but it feels nice to have Geralt's hands running through his hair, working the soap through the strands. He lets out a soft moan of pleasure and Geralt hums in response. 

"Feels nice," Jaskier breathes. "Does it feel like this when I do it for you?"

"Yeah, it does. Thought you might appreciate it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles. 

"You know," Geralt hums as he continues, "I think you'll fit in quite well here. We have a poetry writing contest and Lambert wins every year, it's about time someone knocks him on his ass."

"Lambert, huh?" Jaskier asks, intrigued.

"Mm. You'd be surprised."

"Don't worry, this year he doesn't stand a chance."

Geralt hums his amusement and leans in to press a kiss to Jaskier's shoulders. "If you win," he promises, "I'll let you read the one I wrote last year."

"Ooh, what's it about?" Jaskier asks, already formulating an idea. Geralt just makes an amused sound and piles Jaskier's soapy hair up on top of his head. 

"You'll just have to win and find out."

#winterprompts2k21 #the witcher #rex writes #geraskier

[writeawayjake]

CHAPTER 34

Red Jared

 Ensorcelled steel struck darkened crystal in a crash. Shards of pink crystal shot in every direction, showering all nearby. The sword's light flashed in a blinding display and for a brief moment all was silent. 

   Perplexed, the Thief King let his knife slowly wander from her throat. 

   "You… you missed!? How the fuck did you miss!? I'm right in front of you." He shouted.

   As if in response the tense silence was broken by a cacophony of otherworldly shrieks and screams. All about them a whirlwind raged, whipping debris this way and that. 

   From the very air itself materialized the all to familiar black mass and slowly from within it's smokey depths emerged those piercing red eyes. 

   Clenching his jaw, Jared adjusted the grip on his sword and crouched in a more proper stance, ready to take on the foul entity that had haunted his nights and tried to drown him in mead. In truth he had hoped just hitting the crystal would have killed it but this is where hoping usually got him. 

   Before he could manage another thought he felt a gust of wind slam him in the chest, taking all the air from his lungs, and like that, the world was dark.

   Jared found himself in the same dark void he'd been in before Skye had saved him. Yet again he reached for the sword only to find it wasn't there. Panic began to make a home in his chest, 

   "I can't beat this thing, I can't win." He thought. His breath quickened as he tried to think of what to do. Falling to his knees in a heap, all his hopes for victory began to fade - every chance to help the people of this town, to stop Finn, to save Skye, to beat the demon… all gone.

   Yesssss, the demon's voice hissed. You're no hero, you're no warrior. You are broooooken, youuuu are a coward. You let them down, youuuu let them DIE!

   All he could do was cower there, feeling like a child as the voice screamed down at him. He felt himself shrink as tears filled his eyes.

   You thought you could kill meeeee? I am eternal, I am a part of you, I will always be with youuuu, I AM WHAT YOU DESERVE!!!

   An unseeable hand slammed into Jared's throat, lifting him off his feet and beginning to strangle the life from him once again. His legs kicked and squirmed, his hands searched for an arm to hold on to or attack but they merely swung at air. 

   It felt as if his head was going to explode as he struggled to grasp for air. His limbs began to go numb and started to tingle and his vision blurred around the edges. Jared began to resign himself to his fate, to accept the death and darkness that was coming when, to his surprise, something began to illuminate the darkness around him. A figure wreathed in white light began to take shape, heavy, rounded shoulders and a bald head, thick arms crossed over a broad chest, a face he hadn't seen in a lifetime. 

   A gentle voice filled the air asking in a sad and fatherly tone,

   "Is this the man you've chosen to be son?" 

   "Dad?" Jared choked. 

   "You've forgotten yourself boy. Have you forgotten everything I taught you? Find a way to win..." The apparition paused solemnly. "You've forgotten us."

   The demonic hand loosened it's grip and Jared fell in a heap.

   "No!" Jared cried out holding his throat. "No! I never stopped-"

   "You've forgotten Jared." A different voice echoed, this one soft and familiar. As it reverberated through the void, a figure took shape beside his father, one who wore his mother's face. 

   "Mom? No! No I haven't forgotten!" He shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks.

   "You're stronger than this." She said in a heartbroken sigh.

   "You've forgotten who you were." Boomed a third disembodied voice, this one brash and boisterous. A swaggering hero took his place amongst Jared's family. 

   "Who we were." Chimed in a crotchety old Dwarf accompanied by a mute archer.

   "No! I haven't forgotten!" Jared cried out in frustration. "I've carried you with me every day…"

   "Exactly." Said a final voice. This one sounded of autumn breezes and spring birdsongs. Like home and hearth. Like peace and stillness. 

   Out of the darkness, wreathed in white light, the image of his peace took shape. A freckled, curly haired, I'll tempered goddess that had set his bones, stitched his wounds, and mended his heart time and again. 

   "We are more than sad memories." She said solemnly. "We all felt our own purposes - other than just being your motivation to drink. We all had our reasons and responsibilities."

   "But I - I was supposed to protect you…"

   "And we were supposed to protect you." She replied emphatically. "So how dare you feel sorry for us."

    Before he knew what else to say, the figure of his father approached the demon and growled, 

   "Get. Away. From my son," before reaching out and grasping the beast by it's wrist. 

   With a deafening shriek the demon recoiled in pain. It's smokey flesh, if you could even call it that, burned away at his touch.

   Heeee is MINE! It screamed.

   The demon's screeching filled the void. The sounds of dying horses, screaming children, and dying men, the sounds of horror and pain, despair and death rattled the walls of the void.

    "He is ours!" His ghost called out in unison.

    I WILL HAVE WHAT IS MIIIIIINE!!! The beast roared, deafening him. It's shadowy mass growing, enveloping the space around him, pressurizing the very air. It made to strike against the glowing collection of specters. Against his family.

   He could see a fist strike against a glowing white wall in front of them. The creature shrieked in pain as an awful sizzling could be heard. 

   Again and again the beast struck against their barrier, each strike creating another crack in it's facade. Soon the walls of their fortress began to crumble around them. Once again Jared's family would be buried. Once again he would be helpless.

    HE IS MIIIIIINE! MINE! MINE! MINE!!!  The demon wailed as it struck again and again.

    But over it's pounding and screeching, Jared could hear, clear as day, the voice of his beloved call out.

     "He is mine… and you will not touch him." It said, so soft and comforting, even as the world crumbled around her.  

   Tears burned his eyes and the lump in his throat was almost insurmountable. 

   "Ny - Nyah!" He shouted, his voice cracking and tears flowing freely. All she did was smile. They all just looked on and smiled.

   "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he bawled

   "Don't forget us Jared." They all called in unison, their light beginning to fade into the darkness, snuffed out by this demon of his. 

   It continued it's shrieking, bashing against the ethereal shield in front of it. Thrashing and wailing, sending shockwaves echoing throughout the void. The noise filled his ears, building and building. It was too much, it was all too much. The tears in his eyes the lump in his throat the pounding in his ears, the guilt, shame, horror, anger, and pain all flooding his mind. His mind, his body, his senses were all at their limits, all of them stretched thin, packed full, seems bursting, scales tipped. It was as if he felt everything at once. All of it overflowing and crashing in waves of panic and desperation as he tried to act, tried to be useful, to help, to do something, anything. 

    Until suddenly, all was silent. All was clear. Suddenly, he knew. It was as if a light had been lit within him, a resolution that could not be undone. Swallowing the lump in his throat Jared took a deep breath, letting it out felt as if he were dropping an anchor from his chest. He would never forget again

   "I know who I am…" he muttered to himself amongst the silence. 

   You are NOTHING!!! Shrieked the demon. 

   "I know who I am." He repeated, making his way towards the swirling malevolent mass. 

   The wall of specters all turned their heads and gazed at him with loving smiles, his father nodded in respect and approval, his mother smiled with tears in her eyes, and his friends all grinned their old grins. Nyah's ghost simply mouthed the words, 

   "I love you." 

   As he walked past them a sudden gust of air and a mighty wind enveloped him, the demons teeth gnashing and eyes burning with rage. 

   Without a word the swirling mass of dark smoke began to coalesce. The howling gale, being sucked into one singular spot. Taking on yet another familiar shape. Dark robes and blackened armor, covered in archaic spells. A twisted and grotesque crown laying atop a pale bald head. It's skin a deathly pale pallor, blue veins snaking their way all around beneath it.

    Once again he and the Dark Lord himself stood facing each other in a blackened rotunda and once again the bastard's cackling filled the air. 

    "You are doomed boy you must know this." The Dark Lord said, his voice like a knife sliding along a dinner plate. Jared had never forgotten that voice. It had been in many a nightmare of his for the last few years. "You merely killed my body, but I am eternal, I am death! I am the darkness! I am your nightmares made manifest, and I! Am a part of you."

    Without a word Jared smiled, and his smile slowly turned into a giggle, then a chuckle, then a laugh, and before he knew it he was hunched over howling. Tears once again filled his eyes but these were not of sorrow, he was truly hysterical.

    "What could possibly be so funny?" The Dark Lord asked, deflated.

    Between laughs Jared managed, " You. Haha. Y-youhoohoo bahahaha." He had to take a moment to compose himself before continuing. "I've already killed you before haha and-and-and nowhowhowhow, now you're back. Hahaaaaaaaa. Now I can take out all the crap of these last few years on you all over again hahahahaha."

    Taken aback the Dark Lord stood there, all the regality, confidence, and gusto taken out of him. 

    "I-" he began before a fist slammed into his nose, knocking him to the floor. A stream of darkened sludge-like blood trickled from one nostril, to the dark monarch's shock. 

    "See, back then… back then I didn't know how to kill ya. And for that you gave me this scar on my shoulder. I rushed in headfirst like a stupid kid because well," he looked back to Nyah. "I had someone I needed to get back to rather quickly… but now! Now I know." Jared chuckled, wagging his finger before kicking the robed figure in the gut, knocking his crown off.

    "You wanted me to get dark? I'll show you dark," he growled, stomping the back of his enemy's knee. 

    The Dark Lord screamed out in pain, shrieking like a man who had never been hit before.

    "Killing you the first time got me the name Dawnbringer." He said kneeling down. Seeing a look of terror take hold in those old red eyes he continued. "See, I know who I am now. It took me some time, some blood, lotta mead. I thought I had to choose between being a good man or… well this, but you've helped me see. Because of you I know I can be both. I can defend the helpless... but I can still enjoy punishing the wicked." 

   Quickly and violently Jared grabbed the dark king's collar, shaking with barely restrained fury. Reaching down once again, this time he found his wayward sword. Slowly unsheathing it, he made sure his enemy saw it's glowing blade, made sure it burned into his eyes. Slowly he began moving the blade of his holy sword to the quivering tyrant's throat before continuing. "You took that from me for a while I'll admit. That choice - that... sense of self, and for a long long time I wasn't sure what I was. But we all have a choice and now, now I'm gonna choose to show you why they called me Red Jared…"

@emdop @create-and-procrastinate

Thought you deserved some more lol

#writing #fiction #stories #fantasy #mywriting #story #write #writers #writeawayjake #swords #demons #monsters #ptsd #trauma #Skye #Jared #!!!

[raendown]

Obligatory Christmas fic! Merry Christmas everyone!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4004 Summary: Madara has detested Christmas since he was fairly young, just not for any reason that he cares to broadcast. This year something special happens that just might endear him to the season a little more.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

We Wish You A Happy Something

From the very second he had stepped inside the well-lit Senju household his mood had plummeted even lower than it had been for the entire week leading up to this. Everything in here was covered in disgustingly festive red and green patterns, tacky fake snow, and seizure inducing flickering lights. Madara held his arms close to his body as he carefully picked his way down the hall, trying not to touch anything lest the fabled ‘spirit of Christmas’ rub off on him.

This was, without a doubt, his least favorite time of year. Usually he got away with holing up inside his rather spacious midtown apartment, reading books and staying snuggled up in bed until evening had come again, pretending it was just any other day off work. Not this year, though. This year Hashirama had told him in no uncertain terms that he was expected to arrive at this house the night before so he could wake up with the Senju family for Christmas morning. Apparently his friend had even contacted Izuna and his brother would be arriving with Touka in the morning as well. Terrible. If this got any more cloying and Christmas-y Madara was likely to set fire to whatever was closest to him.

Stepping in to the den, he sneered at the perfectly made up tree in the corner. It could have been plucked straight out of a catalogue; a sure sign, if any, that Hashirama had had no part in the decorating process. Presents filled the space beneath the lower branches of the large spruce and he cast a critical eye over them all. Hashirama knew damn well how he felt about this particular holiday so he truly hoped that his friend wasn’t expecting him to bring any presents. He hadn’t bought a single Christmas present since he was about fifteen years old and he had no intention of breaking that streak now just because he’d been dragged unwillingly out of his annual seclusion.

“You made it!” a familiar voice crowed from the top of the staircase to his right. Madara scowled as he tilted his head back. Hashirama was thundering down to greet him, Tobirama trailing behind at a much statelier pace.

“Did you think I’d get lost or something?” he growled, stomping by without meeting his friend at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve only been here a few hundred times.”

“Hey, wait! Wait for me Madara!”

Instead of listening he made his way further down the hall to where he knew he could find what the Senju called their leisure room. The actual living room was mostly for show and for holiday gatherings. The leisure room was where the big TV was mounted on one wall, an antique pool table placed close to another, and it was here that they spent most of their time when Madara came to visit.

Without waiting for permission – they’d been friends so long he was practically family, he hadn’t needed permission in years – Madara turned the television on and began surfing channels until he landed on the first movie he found that wasn’t Christmas themed. Pay-per-view, of course, before he was just grouchy enough to make Hashirama pay for this indignity in any way he could. He heard the two Senju brothers banging around in the kitchen until Mito’s voice chased them both out and they joined him on the enormous sofa to watch his movie.

He didn’t take much special notice when Tobirama got up and started rummaging around in the liquor cabinet beneath the window. They were all adults here and it wasn’t all that out of the ordinary for the younger man to indulge in one or two drinks on occasion. When he hauled out an entire bottle of what appeared to be flavored vodka, however, he suddenly had Madara’s undivided attention. Something else was pulled out of the cabinet as well but it stayed hidden within his hand as he wandered over to the television and began to fiddle with the pointless artsy wall decoration hung just over top. Disturbingly, Hashirama began to clap his hands like a child.

“Yay! Starting early!”

“I feel as though I’m going to regret asking this,” Madara said slowly, “but what is starting early and what exactly does he intend to do with that much alcohol?”

“Christmas tradition!” Hashirama scrambled off the couch and nearly dove headfirst inside his own cabinetry, coming out with a tall bottle of whiskey that he toted back with him to the spot he’d just vacated.

“The movie hat game,” Tobirama clarified as he resettled himself farther down the couch. “Happens every year at Christmas. You hang a small hat above the television so that it dangles just within the screen. Every time it lines up so that one of the characters on screen look like they’re wearing it, you take a drink.”

“We usually play with Christmas movies but this one works too!” Hashirama was unscrewing the top of his whiskey already, pouring it in to a glass that Madara hadn’t even noticed him procuring.

“Care to join in, Uchiha?”

Tobirama sat forward again just far enough to raise one thin eyebrow down the way at him mockingly. Madara scowled and crossed his arms.

“No, I believe I would rather keep my dignity intact, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Four hours and partway in to the third movie, Madara was extraordinarily grateful that he had decided to abstain. Just observing the two idiots next to him was more entertainment than the movies, distracting him well enough so he didn’t even mind that the third film was actually a Christmas-themed one. Mito had brought dinner in to them all, resigned look on her face when she spotted the open bottles, but it seemed even having food in their bellies wasn’t enough to combat the incredible rate at which the two brothers were consuming their drinks.

Watching Tobirama slide farther and farther down in his seat like his body was slowly liquefying without him noticing was quite the experience. The younger man was typically a fairly stiff and proper person, or at least he seemed so whenever Madara was around, and seeing him so loose and uninhibited was a big change. By halfway through the second movie he’d begun to cheer obnoxiously along with his sibling every time one of them spotted that stupid hat he had hung up aligning perfectly with a character’s head. Then the two of them would pour themselves another shot, both of them tossing it back like old pros. Madara had never even seen Hashirama take a shot before, let alone his stiff-necked baby brother.

He had seen Hashirama drunk by other methods, however, so it was no surprise to him when the only thing which changed about his friend’s behavior was that he lost all control of his volume and by the end of the night he was communicating only in slurred shouts. Tobirama’s transformation was more fantastic – as well as more unexpected. After the first few shots he never seemed to stop smiling and he appeared to have been attacked by a case of the giggles.

As typical of drunk people, neither of them were very aware of their own limbs after a while and Madara was dodging wild gestures long before Hashirama finally gave in and allowed Mito to lead him to bed. He was left alone with Tobirama, who couldn’t seem to stay upright in his seat, wondering for the hundredth time why he had let himself get bullied in to coming here tonight. He hated Christmas, wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, and for the past few months he had hated coming over to his friend’s house for any other reason as well. Here was where he would run in to Tobirama and find himself in awkward situations like this one.

It wasn’t as though he hated the younger man, just that he had no idea how to communicate with him now that his heart had developed the habit of trying to leap in to his throat every time they were within ten feet of each other.

“What…what time’s’it?” Tobirama slurred. Madara shook off his stupor and glanced over at the fancy clock hung up across the room.

“Just passed midnight,” he grumbled. It had officially been Christmas day for a whole nine minutes so far. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. To his surprise, Tobirama slumped down a little further and looked dejected.

“Aw, I missed it then. Oops.”

“Missed what?”

Tobirama squirmed around but never managed to sit up properly so he gave in, look up at his house guest with a sheepish smile as he said, “I didn’t get a chance to say happy birthday. M’sorry.”

Madara gaped at him, jaw nearly coming unhinged in his shock. If he’d had to guess he wouldn’t have thought Tobirama was even aware that his birthday was the twenty-fourth of December and he certainly wouldn’t have expected him to care enough to give him well wishes for the day. No one had so much as wished him a happy birthday in years, getting caught up in the holiday spirit instead, and over time it had fostered a hatred  for the season in him as he felt more and more ignored, unappreciated, and unimportant.

“Thank you.” It was all he managed to choke out, although he wanted to ask how the hell Tobirama had even known. The younger man smiled goofily.

“D’you want your present?”

“You got me a present? A…a birthday present? Not a Christmas one that’s just been repurposed at the last minute?”

“Mhm.” Nodding enthusiastically, Tobirama began the struggle to sit up again. Madara watched him in shock for a moment before realizing that maybe he should help a bit. Once his companion was upright he bolted off the couch with more energy than Madara had seen him do anything that wasn’t related to his beloved science. “C’mon!”

Curious and still reeling a little from the shock, Madara followed as he was bidden. He flicked the television off as he passed and trailed behind with his hands at the ready to catch his stumbling guide while they made their way down the hall, up the stairs, and in to a bedroom he’d never had occasion to go in to before. He’d certainly spent some time wondering about it though. Tobirama’s room was as obsessively neat as he would have expected it to be, although there were less books than he would have thought. Actually it was a bit sparse inside, almost giving him the impression of a guest bedroom but for the very few personal touches here and there.

Tobirama led him to a closet and opened it to reveal the top shelf that had been largely taken over by a good sized heap of gifts all wrapped in different papers and boxes.

“D’you just want this year’s present?” the younger man asked him in a confused slur. “Or do you want…like…all of them?”

“All of them?” Madara breathed. Tobirama smiled widely at him over one shoulder.

“I buy you birthday presents every year but you never come over so I can’t give them to you. Going over to your house to deliver them would be weird; I don’t want you to think I’m weird. Well…you already do but I mean, you know, more than that.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled faintly, feeling like he might fall over from the shock. “Can I open all of them?”

“Sure!”

He had to stop Tobirama from just sweeping them all on to the floor with his arms, unsure if there was anything delicate or breakable in any of the packages. Instead they brought them down one or two at a time and piled them on the floor so they could both sit down as well. Looking them over, Madara noted that all of the wrapping paper was distinctly birthday themed, covered with balloons and cakes with not a single holiday pattern to be found, and it touched a place inside him that he had tried so hard to close away from himself.

Something else he noted was the tags. Flipping them all over with care, one by one, he could easily tell which present had been for which year by the little messages written on them. Happy 23rd Birthday, Madara read the one by his foot. By his knee there was one which read Happy 26th Birthday, Madara. Nothing wild or personal of course, that wasn’t Tobirama’s style, but it was more care than anyone had shown for Madara’s special day since he was a child and his family had collectively decided that he would be getting combo presents meant to celebrate both Christmas and his birthday at the same time.

Which he’d always found incredibly unfair. Everyone else got separate presents for the two different occasions. Why should he get treated any different just because of an accident of birth?  

Fingers gently ran over each and every package as Madara looked over his tiny hoard. He felt like if he spoke right at that moment he might crack open and spill some embarrassing parts of himself out over the carpet so he simply kept quiet and poked around until he found the gift meant for this year. Multicolored party hats adorned the midsized box and even though the pattern was cheesy he found he didn’t want to rip something so obscurely precious. He did want the present, though, so he did it anyway.

Inside there was a leather case with no outward clue as to what it contained. Undoing the clasps, he lifted the lid and nearly started to cry. Since when did Tobirama, of all people, know him so well? He wasn’t even sure even Hashirama would remember his obsession with ancient weaponry enough to buy him such an amazing gift. The old style blade – a kunai, his mind supplied automatically – was perfectly preserved and intricately carved. It was crafted all out of one solid piece of metal with strips of cloth around the handle to make the grip more comfortable and from just a single glance he could tell how expensive this must have been. He’d been looking for a kunai to add to his collection for a long time and never come across a piece he could afford.

Glancing up, he saw the casual way Tobirama was sprawled out next to him. He looked utterly relaxed, as though his gift wasn’t the single most meaningful one Madara had ever received, probably too drunk to realize what this revealed about him. A gift like this meant that he paid attention to Madara enough to know just what to get him that would be appreciated; it meant that he knew Madara much better than their slightly distant way of tip toeing around each other would have made one assume.

“It’s incredible.” Madara traced the edges of the setting the blade was held in, not touching it with his bare fingers. He never touched any of his collection with bare skin. “Where did you find this?”

“Kirigakure.” His head snapped around to stare at the younger man with both eyebrows shooting upwards, but Tobirama only shrugged. “I know, right? That particular style of blade wouldn’t have been used by their early civilizations so it must have been brought over by some explorers or traded in a war or something. Cool right? I saw it and I remembered you telling Hashi about the one you’d wanted to buy that you found in Suna and I thought…why not?”

“This must have cost you a fortune,” Madara said quietly. Since when did anyone other than him know anything about the history of weaponry? Everyone else always seemed so bored when he tried to talk about his collection. Tobirama shrugged and said nothing. “No don’t shrug. It’s not – this isn’t – this means something.”

“Okay fiiiine.” With a groan Tobirama rolled his eyes and crawled over to resettle himself at Madara’s side, throwing one arm around his shoulders and placed one finger against his own lips. “Just don’t tell yourself okay? You can’t know The Secret.”

“Secret? What secret?”

“No! You’re not supposed to know!”

Madara took a deep breath, looked towards the ceiling for patience, and assumed a very serious expression. “I promise I won’t tell myself.”

Tobirama looked at him for a moment, then beamed sloppily. “Good! ‘Cause you’re pretty smart so you’d probably figure out that me buying you presents all the time is a pretty big clue that I’m in love with you.”

Freezing in place, Madara blinked twice and surreptitiously pinched himself just to make sure he was actually still awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t dreaming and that Tobirama had indeed just drunkenly mumbled what Madara thought he had, time seemed to pause for just a few moments as the entire universe shifted on its axis. He looked around at all the presents piled in front of him and wondered how the hell he could have missed something like that for as long as he did. He himself had only started to notice the man at his side in that way over the last few months. If the presents were supposed to be his clue, it was clear that Tobirama had looked at him in this manner for quite a long time.

“Can I open the rest of them?” he asked faintly for lack of anything else to say, not ready to deal with the feelings crashing around inside his chest. Tobirama nodded and dropped the arm from around his shoulders so he could crawl forward to grab one for the birthday boy.

Just as this year’s had been, each present turned out to be incredibly thoughtful. With them all conveniently labeled to show the year they had been meant for, he was able to match them all up with interests he had indulged in in the past that would have made them excellent gifts at the time. His twenty-fourth birthday present was a model of the main character from his favorite new TV show that year. His twenty-fifth was a watch with a simple congratulatory message engraved on the back which would have celebrated him getting hired at his dream job.

As he unwrapped more and more gifts, Madara actually felt himself getting a little misty-eyed to his own mortification. Not wanting the other to see such a blatant display of emotion, he kept his head down and his eyes on whatever he was opening or admiring at the time. Because of that he failed to see how tired his companion was getting, the alcohol and the late hour both taking their toll until at last he dropped his head on to Madara’s shoulder with a content little sigh of exhaustion.

“Are…you okay?” Madara asked.

“Tired,” the other mumbled shortly in to his collar. Madara smiled.

“Let’s get you in to bed then. You should change first, though. Where’s your pajamas? Lots of presents in your closet but I don’t see many clothes.”

“Course not, they’re in my suitcase.” Tobirama waved a vague hand over at the corner of the room and when Madara looked he did indeed spot a suitcase laying there with the top flipped open.

“Why do you have a suitcase? Don’t you live here?”

“No. Haven’t lived here since I was nineteen.”

Deciding that he couldn’t concentrate on all these revelations and convince the sleepy drunk to change at the same time, Madara said a mental ‘oh fuck it’ and hauled Tobirama over towards the bed in the clothes he was wearing. Every time he was here Tobirama was as well, lounging around, sometimes joining the conversation and sometimes not. It was only natural to assume he lived here since he never seemed to leave.

Once the younger man had been plunked down on top of the covers and he was weakly wriggling around, trying to pull them over himself, Madara looked at him with a curious expression.

“If you live on your own how come you’re always over here, then?” he asked. Giving a quiet huff of triumph as he finally managed to sausage himself in the top cover on the bed, Tobirama closed his eyes and nuzzled the pillow.

“My apartment’s lonely,” he mumbled sleepily. “There’s no one there. I don’t like it.”

Madara swallowed thickly. “Ah. I see.” And he really could, in a way. His own apartment seemed to echo some days in a way that really brought home how lonely his life was. Hashirama was practically his only friend and on the days neither he nor Izuna was available, there wasn’t much for Madara to do but sit at home and entertain himself.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, pitching his voice low. Tobirama hummed and didn’t answer. Madara made a quick trip to the bathroom to grab a cup of water and a couple of aspirin then returned to lay them on the small table next to Tobirama’s bed. The pale man wasn’t quite asleep yet but it looked like he was ready to drop off any moment. After observing him for a few seconds, Madara made a spur of the moment decision and crawled on to the bed next to him, slipping under the sheets and laying his arm around the other’s waist.

“Hng?” The sound his bedmate made wasn’t really a word but it had a questioning note so Madara answered it anyway in a low whisper.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?”

“You wanna trade beds?” Tobirama asked in a sleepy murmur. It was a surprisingly innocent assumption, delivered in a more adorable voice than many would assume him capable of.

“No, I’d like to stay here with you if you don’t mind.”

“Like a sleepover?”

“Sure. Yeah. Like a sleepover.”

“That sounds nice.” Tobirama yawned and squirmed back to rest more closely against him. “You’re warm.”

Madara didn’t say anything to that but he didn’t need to. A moment later his companion had fallen asleep and he was left shaking his head in wonder. It was amazing what a little (or a lot of) alcohol could do to change the way someone acted, revealing secrets that had evidently been well-hidden for years.

Although he was almost unable to believe he was doing so, Madara found himself for the first time in his life blessing the existence of Christmas traditions. If Tobirama hadn’t been drinking, who knew if he would have revealed the secret stash of presents he’d apparently never had the courage to deliver to their recipient? All week he’d been dreading tonight and tomorrow morning when he would be surrounded by Christmas cheerfulness as his birthday was ignored for yet another year. Instead he’d gotten the best birthday gift he could have possibly imagined – and he wasn’t referring to the actual presents themselves.

Despite not having consumed any drinks himself, Madara was also fairly ready to sleep. Getting to do so with his arms around the man he had a massive crush on was an extra bonus he hadn’t anticipated but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. No reason to look a gift horse in the mouth.

In the morning both of the Senju brothers would probably regret drinking so much. Opening all those gifts under the tree was probably going to be a quieter affair than he’d would have expected considering how hungover they were both likely to be. Likely he and Mito would spend most of the morning shaking their heads and looking smug – though he thought he probably had more reason to be smug than her, all things considered.

Before he dropped off to sleep Madara wondered if Tobirama would remember any of this when he woke up or if he would awaken on Christmas morning to find the man he was in love with ‘somehow’ in his bed. A holiday miracle indeed. Either way the morning promised to be surprisingly fun.

Maybe – maybe – Madara could be talked around to getting in to the Christmas spirit after all.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction #naruto shippuden