#and those are gunna be the ones who decide this election | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skinsharpenedteeth · 4 years

Text

MG Week Day 6- “Are you Drunk?”

Michael Guerin Week Day 6 - “Are you drunk?” Words: 2376 Teens and up.

Michael nearly jumped out of his skin when a pounding on his door woke him out of sleep. It sounded like someone with an axe to grind and he’d just gotten to sleep longer than 3 hours for the first time in weeks. Groaning, he rolled off his bed and grabbed the dirty pair of jeans he’d worn that day off the floor. The pounding continued and he cursed as the zipper got caught halfway up.

“Jesus, save your hand. I’m coming already!” Michael yelled, trying to get the zipper to unstick and finally just giving up. Whoever was calling at this hour would just have to suffer some pubes.

Hopping down the two steps, Michael tried to swing open the Airstream door but a weight was keeping him from opening it all the way.

“What the….?” He mumbled, pushing harder to get the door to move. He heard a startled exclamation and then a thump of someone hitting the dirt outside. He pushed the door all the way open and looked out into the area he liked to think of as his front yard. Alex Manes was groaning and rolling in the dirt.

“Oh my god, Alex! Are you okay?” Michael exclaimed, jumping down onto the dirt and rushing over to kneel by Alex’s side. Alex turned onto his side and reached out, grabbing onto Michael’s knees.

“I am not fine. The world will not stop spinning,” he slurred, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Uh, are you drunk?” Michael asked, not knowing where to put his hands or what to do. He’d never seen Alex this way before.

“Does it look like I’m drunk?” Alex asked, his voice low and the words running together slightly.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah it does. Why are you drunk?” Michael asked on a sigh. He decided he’d help Alex at least get out of the dirt so he got an arm under his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position.

“Whooa… oh God. Too fast. You did that way too fast,” Alex moaned, turning a little green and breathing loudly through his nose.

“Why are you drunk, Alex?” Michael asked again, starting to feel a little perturbed.

“Because whiskey is an alcohol and is delicious when mixed with things,” Alex answered in uncharacteristic sarcasm.

“Yes, yes it is. But you’re not the drunk in this dynamic. You’re the stoic, passive aggressive one and I’m the erratic, self-sabotaging asshole. So why are you taking my act, Manes?” Michael asked while eyeing the metal chairs he had set up around his fire pit.

“You. Forrest. Life,” Alex answered sadly, staring down at his hands which were scuffed from the fall and slightly bloody. Michael sighed loudly and thanked everyone who’d ever had to deal with his shit while he was inebriated. Thank God only Iz could read minds.

“Okay, we’re going to unpack some of that if you want in a minute. But first we’re going to get you to sit in one of those chairs over there and then I’m going to get some first aid stuff to clean your hands… and possibly a puke bucket. Ready to move?” Michael asks, watching Alex sway side to side as he sat staring down at his hands with an adorable, slightly confused look on his face.

“I didn’t even notice,” Alex mumbled quietly, still looking at his hands as Michael started to hoist him into a standing position.

Once he got his feet under him, it was obvious standing was not going to be Alex’s strong suit. He wobbled violent in Michael’s arm, his body lurching as they started walked the three feet towards the metal sitting chairs. Michael was glad the night was kind of cool since a fine sweat at broken out on Alex’s face as they’d moved. He dumped Alex as gently as possible into the metal chair. Alex started to slump down the chair slightly and Michael sighed exasperatedly. Looking down at Alex whose eyes were closed again and who had possibly passed out, he decided to use his telekinesis to steady his legs so they wouldn’t slip on the gravel and deposit Alex back in the dirt.

“I’m going into my trailer to get the first aid stuff. Don’t. Move,” he commanded before starting to take a step away.

Faster than he would’ve thought possible, Alex flung an arm out and grabbed onto his jeans pulling him back to the side of the chair. Michael let himself be dragged, feeling a little amused at drunk Alex, and stood still while Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s thighs and pressed the side of his face into Michael’s stomach.

“Don’t go! You’re so warm and it’s cold out here. I don’t want you to go,” Alex moaned piteously, his arms tightening and almost buckling Michael’s knees. Michael’s hands automatically grabbed onto Alex’s shoulders to try and keep from falling. As soon as it was clear Alex wasn’t going to keep squeezing and unbalancing him, Michael let him hug him for a minute while he rubbed back. He looked up at the sky and stared at the vastness of space and thought, self-indulgently for a moment, Why him?

“You’re so warm and soft,” Alex said with a hum of pleasure as he rubbed his cheek against the hair on Michael’s stomach. A part of Michael that should have absolutely no part in what was happening twitched in interest and Michael’s hands tensed on Alex’s shoulders in surprised horror, Alex hadn’t felt anything. But of course he did. He couldn’t feel that his hands were bleeding, but he could feel a tiny muscle movement through denim and the numbness that came with inebriation.

“Oooo, wanna play, Guerin?” Alex asked, hooking a finger onto his stuck zipper and starting to pull his pants away from his skin. Michael slapped his hand quickly and took a step back, breaking free of Alex’s now one-armed hold on his leg. Alex was looking surprised and affronted that he’d smacked his hand.

“No!” Michael said, his voice in front of him like he was disciplining a bad puppy. “No, sir. Not tonight. Not when you’re dating someone else. If you need to hear it in Spanish, I can say it that way too: No!”

Alex was looking at him and pouting. Later, Michael would find that look endearing and flattering, but right now he was just annoyed. When Alex continued to just look at him in silence, Michael turned and started back towards the Airstream.

“Stay there. Don’t vomit,” he commanded over his shoulder as he bounded up the steps and went in search of his first aid kit. Being an alien who didn’t trust hospitals or normal medical care from professionals he had quite a collection of medical supplies in his personal arsenal against weeping wounds and lacerations. So, when he returned to see Alex now leaning far back in the chair staring at the stars, he was carrying a tacklebox with him.

Setting down the tacklebox next to Alex’s chair, he drug another of his metal chairs over so he could sit across from him. Alex was still pouting, staring at the sky and Michael elected to ignore it. He was getting pretty tired of Drunk Alex for the evening. He wanted to be back in his bed sleeping since he would be up in the next four hours for work. Opening the box, he dug out some wet wipes and grabbed one of Alex’s hands, turning the palm up so he could start wiping the blood and debris from his scraped skin.

“Ow!” Alex said indignantly, sitting up and starting to pull his hand back. Michael held onto it firmly and pinned Alex down with a look. Alex was only able to hold his eyes for a minute before he murmured, “it hurt…”

“Well, it might do that. I’ll try to be gentler,” Michael replied, wiping the grime away more softly than before. Alex watched him work, slowly picking out any pieces of gravel that had imbedded themselves in his wounds and wiping more gently to pull away the dried blood from his skin. Michael worked for a few minutes cleaning each hand and then dabbing the cuts with peroxide.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” Alex said softly as Michael started painting Nu Skin over his injuries.

“Gunna tell me what all this was about?” Michael asked, not looking up from what he was doing in hopes it would help Alex open up about whatever had precipitated him getting rip roaring drunk and banging on Michael’s door at owl o’clock.

“Ugh,” was all Alex said at first, closing his eyes and looking back up at the stars while Michael got started on his other hand.

“Forrest is great,” he said, sounding sad and confused.

“Okay,” Michael said slowly, trying not to get defensive or jealous about Alex’s admission. “That’s a bad thing?”

“No…yes.. I don’t know, maybe?” Alex looked back down at Michael’s hands on his, seeming to collect his thoughts before continuing. “He’s really nice, ya know? He makes me laugh, he treats me well, he’s… you know? But, I’m… I’m not me around him. I feel like I’m playing this version of myself that isn’t broken and I’ve been really scared that he’d see that part of me. He’d realize I’d been lying to him about… about being the kind of person who was happy and easy to like all the time.”

Michael thought about it. He could understand the sentiment. He didn’t trust nice people. ‘Nice’ people always seemed to have a price for their good deeds and he would rather know up front what that price would be. Sometimes it was sex, sometimes it was work, sometimes it was finding a pedestal for them to perch from so they got to continue being ‘so nice’, but there was always, ALWAYS something they wanted in return. But, Alex was nice, too and he wasn’t sure that Alex had ever asked for anything in return for it.

“You are easy to like, Alex. It’s not like your broken parts are showing all the time. If he’s all those great things then… then he should know somewhere that you’re also human. I mean, does he know about your dad? Or all the shit you went through overseas?” Michael asked, leaning back and finally looking at Alex’s face. He’d been watching it in his peripheral vision, but once again was struck at how beautiful he was even when shit faced. Alex was running his fingers over the dry Nu Skin contemplatively.

“Yeah. I mean, he doesn’t know know. But he’s knows my dad was a terrible human being and obviously he knows about…” Alex leaned over and knocked on his prosthetic. “He was in the military. It’s not like he doesn’t know what goes on where I was stationed.”

“But you still feel like you’re faking it with him?” Michael asked, arms wrapping around his own torso and telling himself it was because of the chill in the air and his lack of a shirt. He suddenly felt very underdressed for this serious of a discussion.

“I just… I’m afraid I’ll ruin it. I’ve never been in love with anyone besides you. I’m not saying I’m in love with him, but I could see us possibly being functional and happy together,” Alex was glancing at Michael nervously, whether ready to apologize for loving him or for pointing out that he and Alex together didn’t equal functional or happy he didn’t know. But he understood. He’d stepped away that night at the Wild Pony because he knew they were in a sick cycle and they both needed to get away from it in order to get back on track. If they ever were to get back on track. He rubbed his hands over his face and sat forward on his knees to steady himself.

“If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But it won’t be because you ‘ruined’ anything, okay?” Michael offered. He didn’t know how to tell Alex that as much as he saw himself as ‘damaged goods’ he was still the best person Michael had ever known. Still the only person Michael would have ever considered himself to have been ‘in love’ with. He loved Maria, but he’d loved feeling like the good guy even more. He’d loved the easy manner between them. Maybe that’s what Alex meant by functional.

“I guess. I should be getting home,” he said, trying to stand up and somehow managing to stagger still halfway sitting. Michael reached out and tucked his hands under his arms to steady him.

“Yeah right. You can sleep in my bed. You’re not driving anywhere tonight, airman,” Michael said, letting go as soon as Alex’s feet were under him. “Think you can make it inside on your own steam?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can,” Alex said, turning and starting towards the trailer. Michael sat back down and watched him, ready to jump up if he looked like he was going to stumble. Once Alex was inside the doorway he turned and looked over his shoulder, confused when he had to look for Michael back at the chairs.

“You not coming?”

“Nah. I’m going to watch the stars for a little bit. Go ahead and lay down,” Michael called over. After a pause, Alex nodded and went inside. Michael set his feet up in Alex’s vacated chair and leaned back to look up at the sky again. He could only find the most obvious of constellations without consulting a chart. His body felt heavy and his mind was starting to stall out now that the action was over. Sighing, he took one longing look at the trailer before getting up and padding over to his truck. He opened the passenger door and reached under the seat pulling out an old red and grey knit blanket that Isobel has made him one year at summer camp. Then he climbed into the cab, shut the door behind him and spread out on along the bench seat, using his arms for a pillow. He might wake up with a crick in his neck, but at least his conscience would be clean.

#MGweek20 #guerinweek20 #malex #malex fic #Roswell Nm #alex manes #michael guerin

34 notes · View notes

trippydooda · 4 years

Text

here’s a second part of the Woosan fic i started. it’s basically a rough draft and i plan on changing some minor things in the one i post to AO3, but alas have some stuff.

Fandom: ATEEZ

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Choi San

Rating: idk, T? it’s safe for minors lol

Word Count: 3,261

A blanket is handed to him, but he refuses it. It’s not as if he’s shivering from the cold anyway. No, Wooyoung is sitting back on the wretched bed he woke up on, feeling the smallest and weakest he has in his entire life.

The shivers wrack through him in waves, and he ends up choking a handful of times, though he really can’t pinpoint the cause of those either. The two beautiful strangers who somehow have to do with him being here sit on either side of him, the first with something akin to a sad expression, the other unreadable.

Wooyoung is tired of the silence. “Where am I?” He asks, but it comes out as a pathetic whisper rather than a strong demand.

The second man speaks up, “A mansion far away from where you call home.” He lifts a finger in front of him that’s still somehow directed at Wooyoung to not speak, and continues: “You were found by San dying in a slum alleyway somewhere, and for some reason instead of finishing the job he decided to save you.”

Slowly turning his head to who he assumes is San (the still silent one), Wooyoung mutters, “Oh.” Only a few silent moments have to pass before the rest of the declaration weighs heavy on him. He whips his head back around. “Finished what job, exactly?”

“You were dying, dear,” the second man flashes a smile and a flutter of eyelids. Wooyoung doesn’t miss the sarcastic undertone. “And our friend here should have just killed you.”

Wooyoung knits his eyebrows. He elects to ignore the obvious insult to instead ask, “And how exactly was I saved? This certainly doesn’t look like a hospital.”

“Ah, there. That’s the right question.” The second man settles himself back onto the bed so he’s no longer looking at Wooyoung. He’s not sure he could have stood those red eyes any longer anyway. “It’s more fun to have you guess, though.”

Wooyoung huffs indignantly. He’s tired, annoyed, and still so fucking confused. He doesn’t want to guess, he wants to be told. And right now he feels like telling this other stranger to sod off, because at least this “San” was nicer. So far, anyway. Still, he wants confirmation enough to calm the boiling in his veins enough to spit out, “Well you all seem like a bunch of stereotypical fantasy book type vampires.”

A laugh erupts out of the second man, one that seems fairly devoid of any true humour, and Wooyoung scoots closer to “San”. The latter man flinches slightly and tenses, but it doesn’t feel like one of cautious anticipation. More like the clench of muscles of someone ready to fight. Wooyoung sure hopes he’s not the one to be fought. “Ah, I wonder what sort of things that sharp tongue of yours would say if my teeth were sunk into your pretty little ne—”

“Enough.”

Both Wooyoung and the man flinch at “San”s sudden forceful voice. Having been now hovering over Wooyoung, the second man scoffs under his breath and removes himself from the continuing quivering Wooyoung. His eyes, Wooyoung notices, have also morphed into that deep black and Wooyoung is idly wondering how close he was to death (again?) when the man rolls his eyes. “You’re always so protective of your playthings, San.”

“I said enough, Mingi.” “San” (Wooyoung should probably drop the quotation marks) practically growls.

Mingi glares down at Wooyoung, his lip upturned. He wordlessly exists, all swift movements and even a somewhat graceful slam of the door behind him. Wooyoung is thankful he’s gone, he really is don’t get him wrong, but now he’s alone with San. And he doesn’t know how to feel about San. It was easy with everyone else—they clearly wanted to kill him. But Wooyoung doesn’t know how to process the information that San precisely thought the opposite, that Mingi said he “saved” him. He’s never been good with compliments or praise, and he somehow thinks that saving his life—however it actually happened—it’s just completely out of his realm of contemplating.

“Sorry about him,” San smiles, and it’s genuinely sweet. His eyes remain brown, and so now Wooyoung is wondering if this colour madness is just that—a product of his own madness.

“Where am I,” Wooyoung asks again, because Mingi wasn’t very helpful. Plus, he figures San will be more forthcoming, less of a sarcastic ass.

Turns out he’s right. San heavily sighs, cards his fingers through his hair, and… Pouts. Wooyoung blinks dumbly at it. “This is sort of a… Safe haven”—Wooyoung scoffs, San ignores him—“for people like me. Like… You. It’s hidden behind a sort of seal if you want to call it that, kind of like a spell.”

“A spell,” Wooyoung echos.

San nods enthusiastically, snapping his fingers because he seems to think Wooyoung is following along (he’s absolutely not). His smile falters slightly, though. “Mingi is slightly right, on one count. I had saved you, yes, but that was under the pretense you would become like me.”

“A vampire,” Wooyoung mutters, voice completely monotone.

San nods again, albeit more slowly. Wooyoung is afraid of what sort of circumstance warrants such a change in demeanor. “I know it’s… A lot, but I did it with the best intentions.” He lopsidedly smiles at Wooyoung and the latter’s heart positively melts. He supposes if some freak was going to “save” him in such a way, at least this one was pretty. “I truly thought you’d just be like me, like Mingi.” Wooyoung hates the unsaid “but”.

The roundabout is only slightly irking Wooyoung, but he’s able to at least be patient with San. Now that he knows the sort of other heathens that run rampant in this little tree shop of horrors house, anyway. “So I’m not a vampire then.”

A shake of the head this time. “No, no you’re not.”

Wooyoung thinks. He thinks because San looks just as tired and confused as he is. Thinks because he really hasn’t clearly yet since waking up dead, and so he thoughtfully raps his index finger against his chin. He tries to remember the times he was a kid and poured through all sorts of fantasy novels and shows, and tries to recall what he knows about vampires. He remembers, though, what the one vampire had said about him: halfling.

He’s unaware he’s muttered it aloud when San perks up next to him. “That fits, actually. That’s the best way to describe it at this point.”

For the first time the whole night (as Wooyoung assumes it is, don’t vampires like, hibernate in the day?), Wooyoung really looks at San. He appears perhaps even the same exact age as Wooyoung, but if he’s going off fantasy vampire lore, the guy is probably in his hundreds. And looking fantastic at that. His skin looks impossibly smooth, eyes deep with emotion and lips curled into a sincere smile, even if it seems to be one of pity rather than joy. There’s a hint of a cherry red underneath San’s hair, and it sort of hits Wooyoung rather belatedly that San is just his type. Way better than any Tinder fuck he’s gotten recently, anyway.

And here he is, practically snuggled in bed with the guy.

But dammit Wooyoung, this is not the time to be horny, you need answers. And Wooyoung has plenty of questions to last (another) lifetime. So he picks one if not to just ignore the strange static that’s building between them. “Someone called me an omega,” he blurts, and it makes San softly laugh.

“Gunna talk my head off with questions, eh?”

“Absolutely,” Wooyoung blurts once more.

San lightly shrugs. “That’s fair.” Wooyoung swears his skin flushes when he stammers out, “B-But, the omega thing. There are some things that probably aren’t talked about in vampire school.”

“That absolutely doesn’t exist,” Wooyoung breathes, and shares his first pure laugh with San. He still doesn’t know if he should be hating the guy, honestly. It’s becoming increasingly harder to even entertain the thought.

“Well whatever,” San bats the air. “I just don’t think they really—er, anyone really—talks about how society for us really works.”

Wooyoung scoots closer, knees brushing against San’s. “Enlighten me.”

A breath escapes San’s nose that could definitely be a laugh, one so impossibly soft Wooyoung doesn’t want to think about it right now. “The person was right when they called you an omega. Before you blather about that whole thing, it’s not the sort of ‘omega’ you’re probably used to. You can’t get pregnant, go into heat, none of that. It’s simply a rank.”

“The lowest of them, then,” Wooyoung softly laments, turning his gaze to the bed.

It shoots up instantly the moment San replies with: “The opposite, actually.” Apparently Wooyoung’s awestruck expression is enough for him to continue without delay. “Omegas are thought to be the highest for us. They’re pure, untainted, and elegant. They think clearer than ravenous alpha or power seeking beta. They possess a certain poise and aptitude for the political, but even with all this they get treated like dirt.”

Wooyoung expressively frowns. “But you said—”

“I know,” San snaps. It makes Wooyoung shrink. “Hundreds, thousands, of years of alphas trying to overcome what they think their weakness is has led omegas to be somewhat of an anomaly. We changed so they’re rarer, less omegas lived to procreate, and as a result there are practically none left. It also just so happens omegas… Taste good.” San looks off anywhere that definitely isn’t Wooyoung.

Right, the whole blood drinking thing. Right.

Wait, no, not right, what the shit?

“So what the hell do I do?” Wooyoung asks, swallowing down his shivering panics. He figures it’s the most practical question he could possibly ask.

San looks back at him, eyes soft and pleading when he says, “Trust me.”

¥¥¥¥

Even though San assures him it’s safe now, that he’s “taken care” of things, Wooyoung still refuses to leave his room. At least, he assumes it’s his. In any case, no one has come to see him besides San, and certainly not that Mingi fellow. Wooyoung shivers at the memory, but also wonders why he was so willing to obey San as well. If he was going to admit it (which he isn’t presently), the sort of powerful aura San carries is… Well, unbelievably attractive.

Yet he’s still confused about this whole omega business, not to mention he doesn’t really think he’s come full to terms with his… Predicament. Is he dead? He doesn’t think the afterlife would be especially honest about where he was, but then again he has no frame of reference either. Just blind faith—just his trust in San, as feeble as it is. So he spends most hours (he’s lost track of them) curled into himself, fumbling to locate his heartbeat every few hours when he can’t feel it anymore. It’s his only way of holding on.

He thinks of his friends, how they must be worried about him. He’s not realised he’s shaking quite violently until San enters the room, and Wooyoung can finally breathe. It doesn’t even take him rising his head to know it’s San—his San, as his brain sometimes flutters to—he can just feel his presence like a blanket wrapping securely around him. The thought makes Wooyoung shiver again, though this time he’s not really sure what for. He’ll figure it out later.

A clatter of a plate being set down makes Wooyoung finally peek out from his blanket cocoon. Very recently being wrapped as tightly in linen as possible has brought him extreme relief. He blinks at the plate though, silver gilded and a rather hot looking cup of soup sitting innocently in the middle. “You must be hungry,” San says, though it’s more of an exasperated breath.

Wooyoung blinks dumbly when he says, “I’m not hungry.”

San sighs. “You’ve been here nearly a week”—Wooyoung whimpers—“and you’ve not eaten a thing. It’ll make me look bad if you starve to death.”

Wooyoung thinks on this. If it’s been nearly a week, how is that he’s not ravenous? Because he isn’t lying to San, he’s honestly not hungry. He hasn’t been, even though the soup looks tantalisingly good the longer he stares at it. “I thought vampires didn’t eat people food,” he mumbles, not even really realising he’s said it out loud. He yelps at his own bold proclamation, slinks back into his covers. San just laughs, and it’s too light and airy for Wooyoung to think about right now.

“We don’t, but you’re not fully like us.” The last bit sounds sad almost, and the confusion that has plagued Wooyoung since being here is crawling rather speedily up his conscience again.

And he really shouldn’t care, to be honest. Not when he’s not even sure if he should be thanking San yet, because he’s not even sure he was saved. Does saving someone entail trapping them in a room like some sort of failed Disney princess? Wooyoung doesn’t know, and he also doesn’t know why he reaches out an apprehensive hand to curl around the bit of San’s arms he can see from under his blankets. San tenses ever so slightly, but the overwhelming relief, like this is what Wooyoung has been starving over, when he can feel San go pliant under his touch—it’s maddening. It’s maddening because Wooyoung doesn’t understand.

As if San is reading his thoughts (he really could be, Wooyoung never really paid attention to the little snippets of vampire lore), he says quietly, “You should be careful.”

Wooyoung knits his eyebrows together and pouts even though San can see neither. “Maybe I would be if you told me why.”

Just from the way San’s arm wiggles uselessly in the air, Wooyoung can tell he’s rolled his eyes. “You’re an omega,” he explains like Wooyoung should already have this whole thing down.

“So?” He asks, withdrawing his hand to sit up fully, and sees San is staring holes into his soup. Wooyoung would gladly offer it up but… Vampires, and all that.

Without looking away San replies, “I’m an alpha.”

“And? You said none of that weird stuff existed.” With the way San tightens his fists Wooyoung is fully aware he’s treading on stormy waters. It’s a little exciting while also being downright terrifying, and it’s really no wonder he’s gotten himself caught up in something like this. The only difference is Wooyoung had imagined a lot more drugs and guns. “Besides,” Wooyoung continues, because San has stayed silent, “You were the one that didn’t kill me. You said omegas tasted good, right? So I’m thinking I’m in the clear with you.” He’s come to sit with his legs crossed, hands neatly folded on his lap, utterly satisfied in what he thinks is a perfectly sound argument.

It is, apparently, not.

San finally looks over at him, the brown eyes he had been using for Wooyoung (he’ll have to ask about that later, assuming he survives this) having turned to a deep red. Wooyoung doesn’t know what that could possibly mean, but for someone who is not really a vampire and therefore more like somewhat spoilt live stock, it can’t be good. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?” He finally asks, and Wooyoung would definitely have replied with something snarky if it weren’t for the fact that a slender finger runs down his cheek.

So Wooyoung’s brain sort of short circuits, “panicked gay style”, as one of his friends once put it. “Wh-What?” He stammers out, having lost every ounce of cocky confidence he had going super well before.

His precious soup lays forgotten as San fully turns his body, a hand now caressing his cheek instead of just a finger. San looks at him through a thoughtful pout, eyes dashing all over before they rest neatly right in Wooyoung’s gaze. The red is still there, still bright and confusing, but there’s something soft as well. Or maybe that’s just Wooyoung’s wishful thinking. Yet the way San is holding his chin now is nothing but dripping with affection, and the way he walks closer to the bedside so he can breathe Wooyoung in is anything besides the feeling of a murderous monster. Perhaps murderous in a different way, Wooyoung belatedly thinks when their foreheads press together.

When he smiles, Wooyoung can see sharp fangs. It’s right then he thinks he has, in fact, probably gone too far, but the heat that coils inside of him just at the sight is betraying him rather efficiently. San says nothing as he leans his face into the dip of Wooyoung’s neck, hovering right over the place where he was first bitten by that freak of a date. Wooyoung swallows thickly when he feels soft lips press just as softly over the wound, and he should probably stop this but something like his attraction to the vampire and blunt curiosity stops him. San says nothing as he drags his upper lip over it, resting teasing fangs as if to make a bite of his own. A tongue flattens down next, and Wooyoung can’t help the whimper that leaves him, nor the way he holds onto San’s hips as if he’ll crumble if he doesn’t.

The door swings open right as Wooyoung feels San’s bottom lip skidding up to meet his top in what would have been a downright awful-but-wonderful kiss, and Wooyoung’s eyes flash open to see a rather incredulous Mingi staring at them both with some measure of disgust (it’s mostly directed at Wooyoung, though, he thinks). “The council is waiting for you, San,” he spits, and gives Wooyoung one more definitely I’m-going-to-end-your-life glare before he leaves, stomping down the hallway and certainly not closing the door.

A growl comes from the spot in Wooyoung’s neck where San is still nuzzled, but when he pulls back there is no anger in his expression. It’s turned to unreadable, which is new. Wooyoung doesn’t really like it. “He has an uncanny habit of entering at the worst of times,” San says, a laugh ghosting on Wooyoung’s face. His expression is still unreadable, but it’s at least somewhat softer now.

They stay silent for a solid five incredibly awkward seconds before San clears his throat rather audibly, removes Wooyoung’s hands from where they were still clutching San’s sides, and sets them in Wooyoung’s lap. He just as awkwardly pats down the sleeves of Wooyoung’s sweater before clearing his throat once again. “I have to go,” he says, “I’ll come back as soon as I can, omega.”

Wooyoung blinks, can only muster the strength to do that, as San turns to leave, but is able to blurt out, “Wooyoung.” It’s right before San has fully exited the room, one foot having frozen inside when he peers his head back in. “My name,” Wooyoung explains. “So you… Don’t have to call me omega.”

“Wooyoung,” San echoes with some thoughtfulness. It’s all he says before he leaves as well, albeit silently down the hall.

Two—no, three—things enter Wooyoung’s mind in rapid succession. One is that he’s certainly in too deep with this San, and they’ve barely held a conversation that lasted more than fifteen minutes and didn’t involve Wooyoung’s confusion. The second one is that he’ll have to stand to close the door and he’s not sure if his legs will even work after all that, and third…

His soup is probably cold.

#i’ve had really bad writer’s block #i still need to finish my Jinkook fic #rip in pesto #anyway #Woosan #Woosanfic #Jung Wooyoung #Choi San #ATEEZ #ATEEZ fic #Woosan has ruined my life btw

15 notes · View notes

commodorecliche · 5 years

Note

I'll be honest I'm not into He Tian/ Mo since so much of it from early on has been very physically abusive and i get that most of the fandom disregards that as "boys will be boys" but for me personally it's not an appealing relationship. But honestly you do you @ the people who are into that. I'm just gonna stay 10 miles away from it.

like... my biggest issue isn’t even that it’s such a toxic relationship (and let’s be honest here, it is toxic and unhealthy as it stands right now). my real issue is how so many fans reacts to the ship and say that clearly unhealthy behavior is cute and romantic.

(buckle up kids, this post got long. i ramble a lot about them as characters and their relationship and their motivations) If you wanna skip all that, just read the last like... paragraph.

like there’s literally nothing wrong with shipping and enjoying a toxic ship. nothing at all wrong with that. we are allowed to like things that are less than pure. we all have things that we like that are wrong/dark/problematique/whatever. but at the same time, i think it’s important that we are able to recognize that toxicity and not romanticize it just because we personally like it. i think it’s important to go “hey, I like this ship. It’s not healthy right now, it’s pretty toxic, maybe it won’t be in the future, maybe it will improve. but I recognize right now that it is unhealthy, and I still like it. and that’s okay.”

again, there’s nothing wrong with that!! human beings like dark things. it’s just how we are. but just because someone likes horror movies doesn’t mean it’s okay to go out and murder people. it’s important to go “wow, i love this fictional murderer! but i know that murder is still wrong.” just like we, as a fandom should say “hey, i love this fictional ship! but i know that they’re dysfunctional, toxic, and very unhealthy right now!”

but this fandom doesn’t really do that. in fact, it would seem that many aggressively don’t do that. many in this fandom will be outright rude to anyone who dares to say that tia/nshan’s behavior isn’t cute/romantic, will argue aggressively with anyone who says that mo is obviously uncomfortable and not just blushing cause of ‘gay panic’ or whatever. and that’s really unfortunate. because like i said, just because something is unhealthy doesn’t mean you can’t like it??

every single unhealthy, toxic, abusive thing he tian does to mo is seen by many fans as “cute” and just he tian “showing how much he cares”. mo’s constant discomfort at the things he tian does is, at best, ignored, and at worst, misconstrued. for example: a while back someone posted a picture set of the times mo was “blushing” because of he tian - but really it was just a picture collage of all the times that he tian has done something weird/unwanted/creepy and has made mo aggressively uncomfortable.

and the things that are abusive (like the physical violence) just get swept under the rug by many fans. like, holy hell, he tian threw mo off of a bridge and into a creek. and the fandom just kind of ignores it and INSTEAD decides to focus on the panels after that scene in which he tian jumps down into the water and lifts mo out of the water as if it’s the cutest thing in the world he could’ve done. nevermind that he tian literally threw him off a bridge. he tian going down to ‘help’ mo doesn’t change the fact that he tian was the one who threw him off the bridge in the first place. (and let’s be clear of the reason why he tian threw mo off a bridge: it was because mo threw his phone and bag into the water. but the reason mo threw he tian’s phone and bag was because he tian had tons of creepy photos that he had secretly taken of mo. that’s not cute. that’s creepy and stalkerish. it’s a huge invasion of privacy to just take tons of secret photos of someone and mo is visibly unnerved by it. no wonder mo threw his phone and bag off the bridge! if it were a girl that he tian had done that to?? he would have been CRUCIFIED by fans. but because it’s two guys, somehow it’s cute now?

my point is that... he tian and mo have a lot of problems. a LOT. but the fandom just doesn’t want to acknowledge it, opting instead to pretend that this relationship is okay and good as it stands right now. and what really sucks about that is that because of the fact that they are so dysfunctional right now, that means that they, as characters, have a huge opportunity for growth. they’re in a pretty bad place right now, but that means that they can only really go up. but we need to recognize that we’re sitting at the bottom of the barrel right now with this ship. and this fandom needs to recognize that they have to grow out of what they currently are in order to ever progress into something better.

there’s nothing wrong with liking this ship. i want to emphasize that again. because seriously, i mean that. i like tia/nshan. i have high hopes for the ship (even though OX continues to disappoint me. always one step forward, ten steps back with their progress it seems. that gets extremely frustrating when you think some progress has been made in their relationship and it just reverts back to toxicity but i digress). but i recognize that just because i personally like this ship and want them to eventually be happy/normal, that doesn’t mean the ship is without problems. it’s got loads of problems. and i’m just not sure why so many fans elect to ignore that fact? it’s shocking to me what this fandom will call cute or romantic. and maybe that’s my age speaking. i know many fans of this manhua are younger and just might not realize that this unhealthy behavior and not “cute” and don’t realize that this behavior will eventually have to stop if he tian and mo are ever to become something healthy.

now for some character analysis that no one asked for but that i am gunna type up anyway:

right now, he tian and mo are 15-16 years old. they’re bratty, angry teenagers dealing with a lot of crap in their lives and neither of them have really had... great role models or easy lives that would lead to them being well-adjusted human beings. i think, given those circumstances, some of the unhealthy behavior they show makes sense. a lot of it can, i think, be chalked up to 1) their age and 2) their backgrounds.

he tian is aggressively (and i mean AGGRESSIVELY) possessive and protective and i think it stems from the fact that he grew up learning that if you wanted something and wanted to keep it safe, you had to physically demand it and cling to it. but at the same time, he tian also grew up rich. let’s be real here: he’s spoiled. and he’s very accustomed to getting what he wants. it’s not a stretch to see that mentality extend to people he wants. and what he wants right now is mo. and he just kind of... does whatever he wants and whatever he thinks is necessary in order to exert control over mo and keep him close by. because he wants him, he wants to “protect” him (in his own weird way). and so he goes about showing this heavy affection in an extremely unhealthy and abusive way, complete with unwanted sexual advances, stalker tendencies, physical aggression, and manipulative behavior. i think... he believes his motivations to be good (because in his head he definitely cares for mo and wants to help him), but the way he goes about it is literally awful. again, if this were a girl instead of mo, we’d all be telling her to RUN.

mo is a little harder to peg just because we still only know snippets of his past. but obviously, he’s had an absent father, he has had to become extremely self-reliant, has never wanted to depend on anyone or “owe” anyone anything. he was ostracized by his classmates when he was young: after going through an extremely traumatic experience (the restaurant scene, and then his father going to jail), his classmates branded him “bad” and not someone who could be trusted. mo then found friendship in the only place he could - with the other outcasts, and fell into the gang. every friendship mo has ever had has been toxic and physically aggressive and controlling. i mean, fuck, she li stuck dirty, dull thumbtacks into his earlobes as punishment for him standing up for another gang member. mo seems like he’s aching to have an actual sense of Self. he tian is... just another ‘friend’ who’s hurtful to him and is controlling over him. not to mention, we have no idea about mo’s sexuality. he obviously seems to have some deep rooted self-hatred and homophobia (the kid freaked out about getting a shot at the hospital in his buttcheek for god’s sake and then had a nightmare in which bullies at school said sexually aggressive things to him because he got a shot in his buttcheek). but at the same time he’s also obviously got some kind of... weird... i don’t know how to say it because it’s not affection, but... perhaps fascination with he tian. i’m not sure. because in his dream, he tian is the one that comforts him. and later on we see that mo even goes to help and ‘comfort’ he tian when he’s having nightmares too. but he’s also still aggressively uncomfortable with the things he tian does around him and the things he tian forces upon him.

it’s just... it’s complicated.

and because of that, right now you can’t say that their relationship and the things they do to each other are cute... or happy... or well-adjusted... or even a relationship. right now, really all we have is a deeply dysfunctional acquaintanceship that is being progressed by... control and manipulation. and yes, i have high hopes that... mo will find his sense of self and will discover what he feels and what he wants. and i have high hopes that he tian will realize how he’s behaving and will come to understand that the things he does are not... good or kind... especially to someone you supposedly like and want to protect. and i mean, maybe we’re seeing a little bit of that? i mean, in the last couple chapters, we saw mo willingly asking he tian for a pair of black studs, that’s a pretty big forward motion, and mo being willing to tag along with he tian to go get them. he tian didn’t force him to climb the wall and skip class (definitely a departure from his usually forcefulness), mo went willingly. so... maybe right now we’re seeing a little development. but... like i said, OX tends to go... one step forward and ten steps back with them, and i’m afraid that the next time we see them interacting it’s going to be something violent or forceful or insulting or stalkerish. so, i just don’t know.

but... really the long and short of it is that i wish more fans would look at tia/nshan and say “i like this ship but i recognize that it’s not healthy currently”. because that’s the truth.

#anyway #that was a long as fuck post #i'm not tagging this btw cause i don't want disk horse like this to show up in the tags #i'm mostly just venting right now #long post #lindsey talks #Anonymous

2 notes · View notes

itsoktowanttodie-blog · 7 years

Text

Das Bullshit

Late last year/early this year I was fortunate enough to open my eyes and really find myself/my beliefs in regards to politics and socioeconomics. Until recently, I barely had any idea about what capitalism and socialism/communism were besides boring systems created to run the stupid economy/society that I had learned about in dumbass high school and didn’t give a shit about, and why would I have cared? I was just a young girl whose priorities were placed on partying and having fun. I loosely followed the election up until the final months when it all set in. I saw that Donald Trump had a real chance of winning, and that was enough for me to dive into politics and all the things I had ignored in high school. This is real life, and I wanted to understand the gravity of what may(/is) happen(ing) in America because of this election. Upon studying further into politics and socioeconomics I started to see all the problems that my mom had always talked about such as the poor being forced to stay poor while the rich get richer, and the government slowly but surely showing the people that it doesn’t care about them. Once I started to see these problems it became apparent to me that many of them are caused by our capitalist form of government. Which got me thinking.. Capitalism is such a toxic (and slowly failing) concept. Its growth killed the American Dream, all the while pretending to emulate it. Capitalists are well aware that the odds of an American Dream success story in today’s society are very slim, which is exactly why they publicize any and all American Dream, rags-to-riches stories, so that others may look to those people and remain hopeful for themselves. Capitalism depends on keeping the majority enslaved and ignorant. That means making the people believe that they can have it all, that they need things which they don’t, and finally (and most importantly), that no other socioeconomic reform model could work in its place. This last point is important because you may be thinking to yourself, well that’s not true I was never told that another system couldn’t work I can just logically tell you that it wouldn’t work. And that is where the problem is, logically socialism/communism CAN work (their past exploitation and implementation in totalitarian/dictatorship ruled countries doesn’t bode well either for the ideologies but I digress). In school when I was educated about communism it was brief and it was negative toned. I was taught to believe that communism was the red scare and dictatorship controlled China, and that Karl Marx was a bad, bad man. There were always really smart kids ahead of their time who would talk about how they supported communism but the schools teachings about communism warranted a quick, nationalist response from most class mates “COMMIE!!!! YOU’RE UNAMERICAN YOU HATE FREEDOM” because that was what we were conditioned to feel by the American education system (controlled by capitalists, mind you). Capitalism doesn’t care about you. It doesn’t care what your passions are. Capitalism doesn’t even care about the nation itself. It is a socioeconomic system whose only purpose is to maximize CAPITAL (a bit obvious from the name, but some people really don’t see this). Capitalism depends on people adapting its ideology because when the only motivator in a society is to make as much money as possible it creates a never-ending cycle of capitalism, and not to mention a divide in the human race. Capitalism forces you to either ignore reality (reality being that not everyone can have all the money, if you have all the money someone else doesn’t have any) or decide to put their morals and their compassion for others after their love of money. If you were born poor capitalism forces you to pursue money in order to enjoy the quality of your life based on its own principles and the life that it creates in society. Capitalist advertising purposefully exploits those who can’t afford their products (which for the most part are not necessities) by making them feel like they need these things, so that this is what drives them to work to buy these products even if they should use their money for other actual necessities, i.e. welfare recipients who buy brand name clothes, Iphones, makeup, etc. These people often fall under scrutiny because capitalism forces them to choose comfort and pleasure over survival, because of the divide it creates. For examples of oppressive capitalist advertisements look here and to read more about it look here. Another toxic characteristic of capitalism is that its unequal distribution of wealth forces a majority of people (middle/lower class, AKA not the 1% of people who control most of the wealth in this country) to stay in their socioeconomic class. It places a heavier emphasis on “prestigious”, powerful positions, thus denouncing and creating a sense of disdain for blue collar jobs such as janitorial services and educational occupations. Everyone living in capitalist society is aware that not everyone can be a powerful, billionaire CEO but, because capitalism perpetuates the American Dream, people still believe that if they work hard enough for it they could be that CEO one day. Capitalism in today’s society is actually destroying jobs in America because it is so cheap to move companies overseas and to outsource jobs. But the American people don’t care because capitalism made them look down on factory jobs by keeping wages so low (even though CEOs typically make about 275 times what their company workers make). Some of you might be saying “Sam wot n’ tarnation?! I care that our jobs are being outsourced! Thats why DT is gunna bring em back baby!!!” Ah ha! What a brilliant idea you have there! We can force our companies to stay in America and either 1. work for the unlivable, inhumane wages companies pay foreign workers or 2. raise the wages of factory workers to a livable wage. If you’re not an immigrant willing to work for nothing just to support your family by any means that you can, you probably picked option #2. An important factor to consider though, is that option requires the public to agree to a wage raise for work they have been conditioned to believe is menial. Capitalism creates a competitive society in order to make people feel threatened by others and their jobs. This is why you have people opposing wage raises because “someone who flips burgers doesn’t deserve to make as much money as an EMT!!!!!!” ($15/hr) To this I resist the urge to say “so fuckin pay the EMTs more and people who don’t do jack shit besides sit behind a desk and manage others less” and I ask “what makes you think that because one person requires more education/skill for their job that the other one who works just as long, dedicates just as much time to their job, and has just as many basic life needs as the other doesn't deserve to be paid enough to live off of? What gives you the audacity to say that one should receive a livable wage and one should not?” There are two arguments that result from this. One is that the EMT had to go to college and thus has much more debt to pay and deserves more money, but the problem therein lays that in capitalist society education is not a basic right, it is a privilege because as I said earlier it aims to oppress and keep the people ignorant/uneducated. The other argument is that wage raises for occupations like factory work and food service would cause the consumers to pay much higher prices for goods that are (for the most part) fairly inexpensive right now. So you don’t want to pay $10 for a small happy meal right? What’s so wrong with that? I don’t wanna give those burger flippers $15/hr because I’m not payin no $20 for a large double big mac order!!! This is true, along with wage raises come inflation. But what most people fail to realize is that if we lowered CEO wages and raised worker wages in all fields of occupation then the resulting inflation wouldn’t be as drastic and the raise in middle class wages would enable us (the proletariat) to afford the price changes. But for that to happen people need to wake up. We need to revolt against our capitalist oppressors and desert our love of money. Capitalism is the reason why most people are forced to give up their dreams, their aspirations, their passions, to chase money at a job they don’t even like to buy things they don’t even need because capitalism tells them thats what they must do. But it’s not.

#fuckcapitalism #socialismbabay #callmeCommie #mystupidfriendsarentgonnareadthis #ughwhateverstaystupidwhatdoicare

1 note · View note

obsessedauthorchan-blog · 6 years

Text

Shakespearean - Chapter 10 - Wally

AO3 | Wattpad | FanFiction

Chapter Summary:

What happens after dinner.

Alternatively, the before-they-share-a-bed-awkwardly part of the story where tension is resolved so they don't have to share the bed awkwardly (unfortunately. maybe I'll write that another time.).

Notes:

Okay, everybody, I know it has been a forever and a half since I posted last (it hasn’t actually been a whole month yet, but I definitely wasn’t counting at all). I am super sorry about that. I had a really rough month, and it actually had nothing to do with the holidays or anything. I had a lot going on, as usual, but I also had some crazy mental stuff going on, including realizing that I actually am depressed (I’ve been in denial for a while) and mentally debating about whether or not I should come out to anybody as bisexual. Depression’s a bitch, and being a gay Christian can be super hard guys. Especially in the Bible Belt, not gunna lie. Anywho, with a new year comes new motivation, and feeling accomplished makes me feel happy, so here’s the latest update for you guys! Remember, every fifth chapter is from a perspective other than Jay’s, and this one is from Wally’s! I hope you guys like this one, because, as I remember, writing Wally’s perspective was a lot of fun for me. Enjoy, frands! (And thanks for putting up with my impromptu and un-forewarned hiatus!)

Story:

Wally West was satisfied.

He was almost always satisfied when it was Alfred doing the cooking. That man knew what he was doing in the kitchen. He was a food ninja just as much as he was a regular ninja. It was one of the reasons why Wally loved coming over to Dick's house for dinner.

The main reason, though, was Dick, himself.

Dick was so awesome. He was so funny and super smart. He was proud and he was a little shit sometimes, but Wally liked that about him, too. Dick had a genuine desire to help people, too, as shown by his desire to be a social worker. Criminal Justice is a difficult field in itself, but social justice was a particularly difficult and financially unrewarding career. Wally was actually really glad that Dick had elected to put off starting his career until he had gotten his master’s degree. It gave him more time to be free and enjoy his youth before the hard life of a social worker sucked all the energy and joy out of him.

Not to say that Wally didn't think that it was a needed job or a fulfilling career. Between being such good friends with Dick and Roy and knowing people like Bruce Wayne, it would be hard for Wally not to have a certain understanding for how hard the world could be for people without good parents, or any parents, and he had a definite appreciation for the people who sacrificed their time to help the kids who suffered at the hands of the cruel world they all lived in.

But that didn't mean he didn't wish Dick had picked something... happier.

Once everyone had finished dinner, they all dispersed. Jason had collected his stuff and left for the night, Tim driving him home, Damian had been sent to his room since he still wasn't behaving, Conner and Cassandra (the cutest couple ever, in Wally's opinion) were chilling like they usually do, Clark had gone home to get ready for more classes tomorrow, and Babs was getting advice from Bruce about the case she was working on. Meanwhile, Wally and Dick had headed up to Dick's room.

"You staying over, Walls?" Wally knew Dick well enough to know that he wanted him to stay.

"Of course. As if I could pass up on the cinnamon rolls Alfred is almost certainly making for breakfast tomorrow."

Dick chuckled, shaking his head at Wally's undying love for food. They got to Dick's room and went inside, making Dick remember something. "Shoot, Walls. Damian was being a little turd and broke the roll-away bed you usually stay on. We haven't had time to get a new one to replace it." He surveyed the room, taking in the modest desk, queen size bed, and the comfortable chair in the corner. Dick was only living with Bruce until he finished his master’s degree, then he fully intended to get his own apartment. He didn't like depending on Bruce for anything, something that Wally could sort of understand but didn't really approve of. "I'll just sleep on the floor tonight," Dick decided, his internal martyr complex making its regular appearance.

Wally rolled his eyes. "You are not sleeping on the floor in your own home, Richie Rich. I'll sleep on the floor."

Dick crossed his arms stubbornly. "No way. You're a guest."

"Oh please, Dick. I practically live here at this point. I know your mansion better than I know my own apartment."

They both stared determinedly at each other for a good thirty seconds before Dick relented, sighing. "Fine, but you still aren't sleeping on the floor. Neither of us will."

"Then I'll take the chair."

"Nobody is taking the chair, Walls." Dick shifted his weight on his feet. "It's a queen size bed. If you're going to be too stubborn to let me be a good host, then we can share it. We're both skinny enough to make it work."

Wally tried not to let his nervousness show. Wally West sharing a bed with the Dick Grayson, arguably one of the most attractive and most eligible bachelors in all of Gotham City, was not the best idea. Mostly because Wally was hella gay and he'd had a huge crush on Dick pretty much since they'd met.

Still, what was he going to say? 'Nah, Dick, I think I'll just go home instead. I'm too straight to share a bed with my best friend for one night.' Because that doesn't just scream closeted gay.

And the cinnamon rolls, though. Those are important. Those are worth it.

"Okay, Dickie. You're the boss." He gulped noisily, hoping Dick didn't notice.

The two of them went about their nightly routines, brushing their teeth and changing into sleepwear. Wally would have been happy that they had sleepwear at all, except that Dick's was only pajama pants. He slept shirtless, all that glorious, lean muscle on display for Wally to drool over and dream about.

Wally hated his life.

They didn't go to bed right away, because they never do. They stayed up for a figurative forever, actually, talking, playing games on their phones, helping each other with the subjects that they were having a hard time with, etc. Dick had a bachelors in Criminal Justice, but his masters was in Social Work. That wasn't really one of Wally's strong suits, but he was good at the science part of it. He himself was working on a master’s degree in Chemistry, so he was pretty useful.

At one point, Cassandra came in to say goodnight. Wally had been working on his sign language for years, but languages in general didn't really come easy to him. At all. Even still, his consistent practice – and help from Dick and Cassandra – was paying off because he was able to have a pretty decent conversation with Cassandra. She wasn't deaf, so she could understand perfectly fine if he spoke aloud, but she loved it when someone took the time to communicate with her in her own language.

When the two of them finished up their conversation with Cassandra and she left for her own room _ without Conner, to the relief of both boys (they were understandably protective, even with someone as trustworthy as Conner) – Wally had gone back to his textbook, wanting to get some last bit of studying in before they inevitably went to bed for the night.

Before Cassandra came in, Dick had been watching a documentary on social work for one of his classes. When Wally realized that he hadn't played it again he looked up, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Upon doing so, he saw Dick looking at him with an unreadable expression. It was actually just a bit unnerving for Wally, who had long ago learned to read pretty much every emotion and thought Dick had. It was a by-product of being best friends since childhood, and the thought that Wally was losing his touch worried him.

"Dick, you okay?" Wally wasn't sure he would get an answer, and he wasn't sure he really wanted one either, but after a few seconds' hesitation, Dick responded.

"You've put an awful lot of effort into learning sign language, Walls."

Wally was no less confused than before. What did that have to do with anything?

Oh god. Please, please, please don't mean that Dick thought Wally had a thing for Cassandra. Please.

"She's your sister, Dick. Might as well be mine, too, so it just makes sense to try, right?" Wally really hoped that explanation covered it, because this was getting a little weird and a lot awkward.

"Really? That's why?" Dick didn't look as though he disbelieved him, but he didn't exactly seem to think that was the whole story either.

"Yeah," Wally said slowly. "Why else would I do it?"

Dick shrugged. "I don't know. It could just be that you're really nice. I wouldn't exactly put it past you to learn a language for pretty much anyone, honestly."

Wally squinted his eyes, his confusion growing. "Okay? So what's the problem?"

Shaking his head, Dick turned his chair back to facing his desk and looked back to his computer screen. "No problem. Not a one. Nope." He popped the 'p', telling Wally that he was most definitely, without a doubt, hiding something.

Rolling his eyes, Wally put down his text book and marched over to stand in behind Dick. "No. We are not doing this." He grabbed Dick's chair and spun it around to face him, placing a hand on the back of it by Dick's shoulder and leaning down to put his face in Dick's personal space. "If you don't tell me what's up then it's going to bother me for a small eternity. So what's bothering you?"

Dick kept his mouth shut and shook his head, refusing to say a word. Wally sighed and resorted to his last measure. The puppy dog face.

Eyes wide and innocent, lips turned down in a small, pouty frown, and overall expression looking downcast and dejected, Wally knew Dick would never be able to resist. Sure enough, after only seconds of eye contact, Dick caved, spewing everything out at once. "You're just a really nice guy, Walls, and it's so sweet that you've put so much effort into learning sign language for Cassandra even though she understands you when you talk and literally nobody minds translating what she says for you, and you're always doing nice things like that, Walls, that's just who you are. You're such a great guy and I love it, that's why I love you, and I just- oh shit," Dick shrank back from Wally, refusing to look him in the eye, apparently displeased with what he'd said.

Wally couldn't imagine why Dick would be upset about what he said. Wally thought it was beautiful. Still, if Dick was going to shy away from Wally, how was he going to kiss him? He raised his free hand and poked Dick's cheek. "Hey, Dickie?"

Dick shook his head, eyes downcast and expression regretful. That just wouldn't do. Wally moved his hand down to Dick's chin, gently coaxing him to turn his head and look at him. When he had finally managed to get Dick to meet his eyes, he smiled. "What was this I heard about you loving me?" Wally asked playfully.

Dick groaned and looked away again. "I didn't mean it like that, Walls. No homo, right? I just meant kind of like a brotherly love. Like family, you know?"

Wally snorted, refusing to let his doubt and insecurity win. "Liar," he said, and then he kissed him.

Dick was unresponsive at first, but Wally was patient, for once in his life. This one thing he wouldn't rush, because if he was wrong, if he had somehow gotten all the signs wrong or misinterpreted them out of wishful thinking, then he wanted to make the best out of this kiss. Just as Dick finally let himself loosen up and enjoy it, Wally pulled away. When Dick tried to follow his lips, Wally smiled triumphantly. "Right, but you don't love me or anything. We're like brothers. No homo at all."

Dick sighed in exasperation, leaning his forehead against Wally's. "Shut up, you sarcastic asshole." Wally decided to comply, but only because Dick kissed him again.

Somehow, Wally thought, as he straddled Dick's hips and ran his hands all over those glorious muscles, he really didn't think sharing that bed tonight was going to be that big of a deal.

(He was right. It was actually totally awesome. Dick was a fantastic kisser.)

Notes:

So what did you think? Worth the wait? A horrible disappointment? Not a fan of BirdFlash (not that I would take it out anyway, but still a nice poll to throw out there)? Thank you so much for keeping with my story and for reading it and (I hope) liking it! I’m a huge fan of comments and they always pick me up after a rough day, so don’t feel shy! I will love every word and letter! Have a lovely week, guys! Until next Tuesday, -author-chan

AO3 | Wattpad | FanFiction

0 notes

theastonishingkylejackson · 6 years

Text

On Our Inaugural Thanksgiving, We Here At The Astonishing Tales Must Say Thanks Because We Are Thankful Too – Written By The Astonishing Kyle Jackson, Publisher and Astonisher

Before Thanksgiving vanishes into the calm of night and we put away our leftovers, toss the drunk family members and friends out of homes and try our best not to cry about how terrible one of the guest peed all over the bathroom, we here at The Astonishing Tales, us Astonishers, thought we would try to leave you with some humor, and our own reflections as to what we are thankful for.

Megan McDaniel, longtime friend of mine and contributing Lifestyles Editor, said she was thankful for having two paid holidays off.

Now that’s an honest answer. But when you think about it, that’s a great thing to be thankful for.

I mean, aren’t most of you kicking all your family out of the house right now so you can go head to Best Buy and stand at number 96 in the long line to get in the store when it opens up tomorrow at Black Friday?

Well you’re not gunna get there if you don’t have a paid day off from work. So be thankful.

And thanks to Megan for acknowledging that paid day off. Attagirl Megs!

McDaniel added further that she’s thankful for much more, such as being a smartass.

That’s why we love her. She’s one astonishing snarky smartass.

Another astonisher – Robyn Roberts White, contributing Society Editor, was a little deeper with her response as to what

Heather Zarazinski Williams, one of our Astonishers, is thankful for friends and family this year.

she was thankful for this thanksgiving.

White said she was thankful for “Thankful that the good Lord is still looking over us,” White said. “My mom’s eye miracle is proof!”

How thoughtful right? I mean, how can you not love that kind of response?

Of course, I, The Astonisher, wrote an article earlier today about what I was thankful for. It was an okay article. I wasn’t a big fan of it, so there’s no point bringing me up. I covered my own ass a few hours ago.

As for Heather Zaranzinski Williams, our special correspondent and latest addition to The Astonishing Tales, had a wonderful response to our question of what she is thankful for on Thanksgiving.

“I’m thankful for every single day that I’m granted and that I was blessed with an overabundance of ohana,” Williams said, who I’ve known since like, maybe Obama was first elected. She continued, stating, “Family isn’t always your blood kin but the ones who are with you through it all. I’m so glad none of you jumped off the Heathercoaster and decided to ride those peaks and valleys with me.”

Well said, Heather, which is why you’re astonishing.

Robyn Roberts White and Megan McDaniel, two astonishers who happen to be mother and daughter. Both are thankful for many things…..

We’re all thankful for something.

Some of us are thankful for those extra days off.

Others are thankful for miracles and blessings.

Most are probably thankful for the people who have entered our lives and touched us – in a non-inappropriate manner mind you, this is not a Harvey Weinstein production – and we are thankful for those people who remain and stand beside us and lift us up.

At The Astonishing Tales, through all the adversity, we’re thankful for so much, including each other – but also YOU. You who are reading this.

We’re thankful you’re reading it. And we thank you for making us a part of your life, whether you read us on your phone, your tablet or computer.

For whatever reason, we as a staff are thankful for you reading our upstart digital magazine, known as The Astonishing Tales.

Happy thanksgiving.

You may now resume evicting people from your home.

And Happy Black Friday. I hope you get that 70 inch plasma flatscreen television for $150 from Best Buy.

I’m The Astonishing Kyle Jackson of The Astonishing Tales and I thankfully approve this message.

[amazon_link asins=’B01NBMFLAY,B01AX1O44I,B074VL3YH1,B0035DQG20,B075F4QZSR,B073QMYGHD,B075FFR4ZB,B000UXFI7W’ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’theastonish0b-20′ marketplace=’US’ link_id=’a69a5f2f-d0cc-11e7-bc9b-6329204f911b’]

As A Staff, We’reThankful Too – For You On Our Inaugural Thanksgiving, We Here At The Astonishing Tales Must Say Thanks Because We Are Thankful Too - …

0 notes