#i keep almost accidentally calling michael mikey it’s bad

[gardenvarietydespair]

so i work at a music camp and this week in my group i have two brothers named gerard and michael. their mother had never heard of my chemical romance

#i keep almost accidentally calling michael mikey it’s bad #at MUSIC CAMP no less #my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #mikey way #my chem #music #bands #mcrx

[aslanjadecarlyle]

ghost of you (asheiji)

This oneshot is birthday gift from me to myself

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You May also find this oneshot on my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33681853

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In which Michael makes an imaginary friend.

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Warnings: post-canon, grief/mourning

Michael is eight. Eight years, five months, and four days, to be exact. He’s too old for imaginary friends.

But, his friend that shows up in his parents’ living room one day can’t be imaginary. He can’t be, because Michael recognizes him.

“Ash!” he squeals.

He’s not sure what Ash is doing here. According to his parents, Ash had “gone away for a long time,” and they’d both had tears in their eyes when they sat him down to talk about it. That was just a few days ago. But, Ash is back. He hadn’t been gone for very long.

He’s back, and he’s right here in Michael’s living room!

The older boy looks surprised. And pale. He looks very pale, but it only makes the green of his eyes even brighter as they widen. “Michael?”

“Hiya, Ash!”

As Ash’s eyes soften, they are sad, but calm. “You can… you can see me?”

“Course I can, silly!” Michael grins as he jumps to his feet. “Oh boy, just wait ‘til I tell Mom and Dad that you’re back. They’ve missed you a whole lot.”

“Wait, Michael,” Ash calls out.

Michael, who’d started for the hallway, stops in his tracks. Confused, he turns back to the older boy.

“I don’t think telling your parents about me is such a good idea,” Ash says softly.

Michael juts his lower lip out in a pout. “Why not?”

“People don’t…” Ash pauses. Hesitates. “People don’t… normally come back from where I went to.”

“Where did you go?”

Ash hesitates again. Michael frowns.

“What’s wrong, Ash?”

“Nothing, buddy,” Ash says. “Just… I went to a place that you won’t have to worry about for a long time.”

“Oh. When I do have to worry about it, then will you tell me?”

Ash cringes, but he nods. “Of course.”

Michael smiles, eyes sparkling again. “Okay!”

“Michael?”

At the sound of Jessica’s voice, Ash freezes. As Michael looks at him, he puts a finger to his lips.

Michael nods.

“Yeah, Mom?” he calls back, going into the hallway. His mother is coming down the stairs.

“Are you talking to someone?” she asks. She’d just gotten out of the shower and she’s wrapped in a fluffy robe, her hair still dripping wet.

Michael shakes his head. “Just me. I made up a new game.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” She smiles, but it’s small and sad. All of her smiles have been sad since Ash went away.

As she turns away to go back upstairs, Michael says, “Hey, Mom?”

Jessica pauses, then turns to face him again. “Yes?”

“I miss Ash.”

At that, Jessica’s eyes mist over. She stares down at the floor and tries to hide her sniffling, but without much success. “I think we all miss Ash, sweetheart.”

“Will he come back?”

Jessica tries to hide the tear that escapes down her cheek, but she’s too late. Michael sees it. “Probably not, Mikey.”

Michael’s eyes widen. His mom hadn’t called him Mikey since he was a little kid.

“Okay, Mom. Okay.”

“Michael, if you…” Jessica pauses. Takes a deep breath. “If you want to talk about Ash, or anything else, your dad and I will always be here to listen.”

He nods. “Will Dad be home soon?”

“He has another hour at work, but he’ll be home after.” She ruffles his hair, but he doesn’t cringe away like he normally would.

He nods. “Okay.”

After she goes back upstairs, Michael returns to the living room. Ash is huddled in a corner on the floor, knees drawn up to his chin.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks, voice squeaking a little.

“I will be,” Ash mumbles.

“How long will you stay?”

Ash lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be. I can stay awhile.”

Michael’s eyes light up again. “Oh, yay! Will you play with me?”

Lifting his head, Ash manages a small smile.

“Of course, buddy.”

*

Ash keeps his promise. Ash stays.

They’d been almost caught a few times, but Michael is starting to think that neither of his parents can see Ash, which is weird. They’d had no problem seeing him before he went away.

When he asks Ash about it, Ash says he doesn’t know. He says that the place he went to changed him, and maybe grown-ups can’t see him anymore.

Michael accepts this answer, but he’s still curious about where Ash went. Whenever he asks, all Ash says is that it “was a bad place.” He’d tell Michael more about it when he was older.

Michael didn’t like this answer.

He was almost eight and a half. Eight years, five months, and twenty-three days, to be exact. He thought he was plenty old enough.

But, even though he gets frustrated, the frustration usually fades quickly. Ash was sticking around, and they still played together. That was enough, for now.

It took a lot of concentration for Ash to play, though. He could hardly roll a car across Michael’s bedroom floor without focusing absolutely all of his attention on it. Michael thought maybe he was sick, but Ash said that the place he went to made him weak. Not sick, just weaker than he used to be.

Michael hadn’t realized it before, but Ash was good at keeping secrets. He wished he was as good at keeping secrets as Ash was.

Because one night, about two or three weeks after Ash came back, Michael accidentally lets their secret slip.

He and his parents are sitting around the dinner table. Salmon, green beans, and rice tonight — one of Jessica’s favorite meals. Max and Michael normally preferred burgers and fries. But, it’s still good. Everything Jessica cooks is delicious.

Max is talking about work, and Michael, in typical eight year old fashion, zones out.

That is, until Ash’s name comes up.

At the mention of Ash’s name, Michael perks up. Forgetting the promise he’d made, he pops a piece of fish into his mouth and says, delightedly, “We’re going to play a new game later!”

Talk ceases. Max and Jessica both turn their attention to their son.

“Who are you going to play with, bud?” Max asks.

Michael smiles. He thinks it’s funny that Ash started calling him ‘buddy’ like his dad does. “Ash! He can’t play a lot of games anymore, but he said he’s gonna teach me a new one. One he can play.”

The clinking of silverware stops. Both adults freeze, then glance at each other.

“You’re going to play a game with Ash?” Jessica asks.

“Yeah!”

“Where did Ash come from?” This time, it’s Max who speaks.

Michael shrugs. “He came back. You guys acted like he’d be gone forever, but it was just a few days.”

“A few days? But it’s been weeks…” Jessica glances at Max.

A frown is settling deep in Max’s brow. “How long has he been back, bud?”

Michael shrugs. “You guys talked to me, told me Ash had gone away. But then he came back again a few days later.”

Jessica sucks in a breath.

“All right.” Max inhales deeply, nods. Then, he smiles. “How about you finish dinner in your room, huh? A special treat.”

Michael’s eyes light up. “Can I watch TV?”

“Of course, bud.”

Jessica helps him prepare a tray, then Michael takes his food to his room without complaint.

When he arrives in his room, Ash is waiting for him.

And then he remembers his promise.

“Oh!” Michael gasps. He stands there, tray rattling as his hands start to shake, and his lower lip quivers. “I’m s-sorry, Ash.”

Ash, though, only smiles at him. “It’s all right, buddy.”

“Are you gonna leave?” Michael’s eyes fill with hot tears. “I’m sorry!”

“Nah.” Ash leans back, crossing one Converse-clad foot over the other, “I won’t leave.”

“Really? You’ll stay?” Michael sniffles, but manages a smile.

Ash smiles back. “Yeah, I’ll stay. But, playtime is going to be a bit delayed, all right? I need to check something.”

Michael nods. “O-Okay.”

“Finish your dinner, huh? I’ll be right back.”

Ash leaves Michael, still sniffling but calming down, in his room, and ventures out. He knows there’s no reason to be overly cautious or sneaky, but old habits die hard

(pun intended)

as he creeps down the hallway.

He finds Max and Jessica talking in the kitchen. He stands, totally exposed but unnoticed all the same, in the doorway, and watches.

Jessica has her head in her hands and her shoulders shake. Her tears are silent, but he knows she’s crying. Max has a chair pulled up next to her and he’s got his arms wrapped around her.

“Maybe this is his way of coping,” he mumbles.

“B-By thinking he can see Ash? Max, Ash is, Ash i-is—“

“I know.” Max cups her face in his hand. He attempts to wipe the tears away, but they come too quickly. “I know, Jess. But, I don’t think he quite understood when we tried talking to him. Maybe this is his way of… processing.”

“He’s too old for imaginary friends, Max!” Jessica snaps.

But, she’s not angry. Not at Max.

She’s angry at the world.

She’s heartbroken.

“This will last a few weeks, maybe a few months,” Max predicts, “but he’ll grow out of it. Maybe it’ll help if we sit down with him again. Explain things… properly.”

“Y-You mean, tell him—“

Max nods.

“Oh, but Max—“

“I know,” he mumbles, pulling her into a hug, “but, is it really fair to let him continue to believe that Ash could come back someday?”

“I, I—“ Jessica hiccups, sniffles. She rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’ll talk to him after school on Friday,” Max mumbles, rubbing her back.

“Okay,” she whispers. He holds her tight. “But, what if…”

“Hm?”

“What if… it doesn’t help? What if he still thinks he can play with Ash?”

Max sighs deeply, presses his lips to her forehead. “If it doesn’t pass after a few months… it may be a good idea to take him to a child therapist.”

“Max,” she whimpers.

“I know. Shh. We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

It is then that Ash chooses to take his leave. He returns to Michael’s room with hunched shoulders. He can no longer feel pain, but he’d swear his heart would be aching in his chest if it could.

Michael, though, is thrilled (and incredibly relieved) when Ash returns.

“You came back!” he exclaimed, hopping off his bed. His plate, now empty, sits on his dresser.

“I told you I would.” Ash smiles, but it’s small and shaky.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says again.

“Don’t be. You kept the secret for a long time.”

“Can they see you now?” Michael asks.

Ash shakes his head.

“But—“

“They know, but it’s still probably a good idea not to talk about me too much, all right? Sometimes grown ups think ghost stories are silly.”

Michael frowns. “But, you’re not a ghost, are you, Ash? Ghosts are dead people.”

Instead of answering, Ash says, “Hey, how about I show you that game now, huh?”

At the mention of a new game, Michael grins.

“Okay!”

Questions forgotten.

*

When Michael comes home from school on Friday, he doesn’t come straight to his bedroom. Instead, Max calls him into the living room. He says he needs to talk to Michael about something important, but assures him he’s not in trouble.

Ash could observe, but he knows that he’d only be distracting Michael.

So, he sits on Michael’s floor.

And he waits.

Michael is gone for a long time.

But, finally, his bedroom door creaks open. He pokes his head into the room first, lip quivering, eyes flooded.

“Michael—“

“You lied to me,” he whispers.

Ash stares down into his lap, fiddling with the zipper on his coat. “I’m sorry, Michael. I—“

“I said ghosts were dead people, and you said you weren’t a ghost!”

Technically, Ash hadn’t. He’d changed the subject. But, he knows what Michael means. He’d been lied to for weeks.

He felt betrayed, and it was because of Ash.

“I’m so sorry, buddy. I…” Ash hesitates.

Michael stares at him, heavy tears down his cheeks. His eyes are red and swollen.

“I can leave, if you want,” Ash offers, quietly.

He doesn’t know where he’d go. But, Michael doesn’t have to know that.

“No,” Michael whimpers.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to leave!” the boy cries. He sits on the floor, school bag still heavy on his back, and sobs. “Don’t leave, Ash. Please don’t go.”

Ash had thought it selfish of him to stay.

But, looking at Michael, eight years old and already having to deal with more than any boy his age should, he thinks it’d be much more selfish of him to leave. At least, for now.

“Okay,” Ash mumbles. “Okay, buddy. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“Ash?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“C-Can I hug you?”

“I’m… not sure, Michael,” Ash admits.

“Can I try?”

Ash hesitates. “All right.”

Michael hurries at him, arms outstretched. But, he passes right through Ash like he’s made of smoke.

Ash shivers. Michael hangs his head low and sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Ash says.

“I wish I could hug you.”

“I know.”

They’re interrupted by Jessica, who knocks on the open bedroom door. Michael looks up at her from his position on the floor, then looks away.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she murmurs.

Michael ignores her.

“I don’t think… I don’t think it’s good for you to be alone right now, Mikey.”

“I’m not alone,” Michael says. He looks next to him, at Ash. “I have Ash.”

Jessica looks directly at him.

Ash’s green eyes are wide and bright.

But she does not see him.

“I’m so sorry, Mikey. Please… come watch a movie with us? It will take your mind off of…”

“Go with her,” Ash whispers.

Michael freezes.

“Go on, buddy. It’s okay. They just want to take care of you.”

“You’ll stay here?” Michael whispers, believing himself to be quieter than he is. Jessica’s eyes widen.

“I promise.”

“Okay,” Michael mumbles. Slowly, he gets to his feet. “Okay, Mom. Can I pick the movie?”

Jessica tries to smile.

“Of course.”

*

Michael turns nine tomorrow.

And Ash has stayed through it all.

Since learning of Ash’s death, Michael has tried to quiet down around Max and Jessica. He still talks about Ash sometimes, but, though the subject is still a sensitive one, they have dropped the idea of taking him to see a child therapist.

Ash and Michael still play sometimes, but mostly Ash has become somebody to talk to. Every day, after he comes home from school, Michael tells Ash about his day.

Ash can’t help but compare his nine-year-old self to Michael, and he’s so grateful he would cry if he could. Michael had gone through a lot in the past year that no eight-year-old kid should have to go through, but it was nowhere near the inferno that had engulfed Ash’s childhood. And, most of all, Michael had parents who loved him. Who supported him. Who helped him however they could.

Something that Ash himself had never, ever had.

They’re in the kitchen. Ash is leaned against the refrigerator, arms crossed over his chest, easy smile on his lips. Michael is helping his mother frost his chocolate birthday cake, but he keeps sticking his fingers in the frosting whenever she turns her back. Max is decorating in the living room, but pokes his head into the kitchen every once in awhile to sniff the air.

“Why does Michael get to lick the spoon?” Max whines.

“Because,” Jessica huffs in exaggerated annoyance, “only one of you is turning nine tomorrow.”

Michael sticks his tongue out at his father.

Max grins, about to retort, when the doorbell rings.

“Ah!” Max grins. “I believe our special guest has arrived!”

“‘Special guest?’” Michael echoes. He and Ash exchange a look, but Ash shrugs.

“You stay there, boy!” Max orders before hurrying to the door.

When he returns, Ash’s jaw drops.

“EIJI!” Michael screams.

Eiji smiles.

“Hiya, Michael.”

Michael runs across the room, knocking Eiji back against the wall in a hug. Laughing, Eiji wraps his arms around the boy.

Ash is frozen.

He can’t stop staring.

It’s only been six or seven months since Eiji left for Japan, and, apparently, he’d come back earlier than that for the funeral. But, this is the first that Ash has laid eyes on him since… the hospital.

Since he was alive.

Eiji’s hair is a little longer, a little shaggier — it looks like he’s trying to grow it out — but, otherwise, he looks the same as he had six, seven months ago. He—

No.

Not the same. Not quite.

His eyes are dark, dark and sad. He’s laughing as he hugs Michael back, but there is a heaviness behind those eyes that wasn’t there before. Because of…

Because of Ash.

“Eiji, Eiji,” Michael repeats over and over, like it’s been a lifetime since they’d seen each other, “You came from Japan?”

“I did,” Eiji says. His voice is soft.

“You came for my birthday?” Michael squeezes tighter, afraid to let go.

Eiji laughs as the air is squeezed out of him. “I did, yes. But, not only reason.”

“Huh?” Michael finally lets Eiji go as he takes a step back and looks up at him.

The gentlest smile pulls at Eiji’s lips. “I been thinking of relocating to New York. Permanently.”

Ash’s mouth falls open.

“You’re moving here?!” Michael demands.

“Well,” Eiji says, “I sure going to try.”

Ash continues to gape at a man who cannot see him.

What happened to going back to Japan?

“It’ll be wonderful to have you around again, Eiji,” Jessica gushes, wrapping him in a hug and gently squeezing, “You are always welcome here.”

Eiji holds Jessica close as he hugs her back, sturdy and comforting. “I appreciate you very much, Jessica.”

Jessica is shaking her head as they pull apart.

“You boys,” she murmurs, voice thick, “did not deserve any of what happened to you.”

Her own traumas go unspoken.

“I hate to interrupt,” Max says, stepping in as soon as he realizes Jessica is becoming overwhelmed with emotion, “but, I think we still have some presents to wrap. Can you watch the cake for us, Eiji?”

Eiji laughs. “Of course.”

Wrapping his arm around Jessica’s shoulders, Max leads her out of the room and takes her upstairs.

Michael waits until they are out of earshot before turning to Eiji, big smile on his face. “Guess what!”

Eiji smiles. “What?”

“Someone else is here for my birthday!”

Snapping out of his Eiji-induced trance, Ash’s eyes go wide. Pausing, Michael looks at him. Ash looks very scared for a moment.

But, after a moment, he nods.

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

Michael grins.

“Huh? Another guest? When will they come?” Eiji asks.

“They’re already here!”

“What?” Eiji crosses the kitchen and looks out into the hall. “Where?”

“Right here!’

Eiji turns to look back at Michael, who’s pointing at the wall.

“Ah, I get it. Is your friend invisible?”

“Yes!”

Eiji chuckles. “Well, then. What his name?”

“It’s Ash!”

The laughter cuts off as quickly as it had started.

“Your imaginary friend… is Ash?”

Michael scowls. “He’s not imaginary. He’s dead!”

He says that so excitedly that Ash can’t help but laugh. He covers his mouth with his hand.

Eiji is starting to look a little pale. “Don’t be silly, Michael. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Yes, there is!”

Shaking his head, Eiji leaves the kitchen. Michael and Ash both follow him into the living room.

“Don’t you believe me?” Michael asks.

Crossing the room, Eiji goes to Jessica’s bookcase, picks a seemingly random book, and begins to flip through it. “You’re very imaginative, Michael. You should be an author when you grow up.”

“I’m serious!”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Eiji repeats. He takes his book and sits on the floor… just like Ash does. Leaning against the wall, he pretends to read.

Michael looks at Ash, exasperated.

Biting his lip, Ash looks back at Eiji. His head is bowed as he skims the page.

Michael bites back a giggle as Ash moves closer to Eiji. He stands right in front of him, and Eiji shivers.

This, though, is where Ash falters.

In the months since Ash had shown up in Michael’s house, he has not been able to muster the strength to touch a living human.

Ash looks back at Michael, who nods his encouragement. He turns back to Eiji, who is still pretending to read though his teeth have started to chatter.

Slowly, very slowly, Ash bends down. Then, he leans forward and wraps Eiji in a hug.

Michael is all but holding his breath.

At first, nothing happens.

Then, Eiji gasps. The book falls from his hands, into his lap, and his head jerks up.

He stares directly into wide, bright, beautiful green eyes.

Ash’s smile is very soft.

“Hello, Eiji,” he mumbles.

“Nice to see you.”

#asheiji #banana fish #ash lynx #eiji okumura #okumura eiji #Banana fish Michael #max lobo #jessica randy #Oneshot #asheiji fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #fanfiction

[1994sunflower]

Ugh I read "heaven to you" and its sequel and now I really want a prequel with the reader losing her v card to Mikey. Pretty please with a cherry (preferably popped!) on top? 🍒

this was such a cute idea! i have no plans on making a full prequel but i’m so down for making long drabbles/blurbs (and even one-shots if i think they’re applicable to the prompt) about their relationship outside of the stories. i’m currently writing the sequel which is heavy so this was so nice to get back to sweet cute stuff with my favorite couple.

i went with a one-shot for this because it’s such a big moment in their relationship, especially for michael as you can see throughout the first two chapters of heaven to you.

in which you have sex for the first time

Michael had been asking you to come over for weeks now and while normally you wouldn’t think twice about it, it was the timing of it all. You’d been dating for nearly a year and if his reputation was anything to go by, sex was just looming in the background.

Michael had been great about not pressuring you but you knew it was something that was on his mind. Especially with the knowledge that Michael was more than experienced and while you never put that against him since it was before you met, you couldn’t exactly feel fine with the thought of possibly not being able to measure up to his expectations. Not that he ever gave any indication that he had any expectations for you to meet. In fact, he never once compared you to anyone or made you feel like he was. He always made you feel like you were important and the center of his attention.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. In fact he was the only one you trusted enough to be your first. You couldn’t imagine it being with anyone else, you didn’t want anyone else. Over the months of dating, you had grown to trust him and had fallen for him pretty hard. He was gentle and patient and you knew he would be the same for your first time. You didn’t doubt that he wouldn’t judge you or make you feel uncomfortable.

But you weren’t ready. Or, you were but your nerves easily drowned that out. And so you did what you could to avoid it. Including finding any excuse to not be alone with him, rescheduling meetings to take up a lot of your time, and keeping a safe distance between you.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to, you did, so much so that you weren’t sure if you could hold yourself back if you were alone with him. But that was the very thing you were afraid of, letting go and then putting yourself in that awkward position you always feared. You couldn’t trust yourself. It wasn’t his fault so you felt kind of bad that you felt like you were punishing him. But you didn’t know what else to do.

He was very much intimidating as it was, you couldn’t imagine how small you would feel doing something so foreign, so out of your comfort zone, with him while it was like second nature to him. What if you did something wrong? You didn’t want to disappoint him, not when all you wanted to do was please him. Just the thought of him kissing you, his hands on your body, made you heat up with want. You wanted him so much. But the anxious thoughts were still at the back of your head.

You were beginning to think you were succeeding at stealthily evade the thing that made your heart race with just the thought of it. But that illusion came crashing down when you exited your classroom, only to find Michael leaning on the wall opposite the doorway.

When he pushed himself off of the wall and went to stand in front of you, you nervously flicked the corner of a paper sticking out from your folder. You were eye-level to his chest and so when you looked up so your gaze reached his face, you did so slowly.

Michael was staring down at you with hard eyes but they held no anger or animosity. You were sure the students trailing out behind you, whispering and staring at the big dressed-in-all-black man in front of you would think differently, though. You weren’t scared of him like they obviously were, walking much faster than usual. But you were definitely nervous at the confrontation that was no doubt about to happen.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He was straightforward and one of his inked hands reached to envelope your small one. His voice sounded rough but his actions were gentle. You were slowly learning to differentiate his real emotions from the external appearance he gave off. “Did I do something wrong?”

Your smile was forced and you let out a shaky breath when you did. A bit of your heart broke when you saw his eyes looking at you, worried. Worried about what he could’ve possibly done that made you want to ignore him, worried that you could break up with him before the relationship even fully got started.

“Nothing, nothing! I just…” You sighed, “It’s stupid. And it has nothing to do with you, Mikey. We’re fine.”

You saw a flash of a smile on his face at your nickname for him. He never let anyone call him anything other than Michael so you were nervous when you first called him Mikey. It just came out. But you relaxed when you saw the happy glint in his eyes. He loved it and he loved it because it came from you. It was a soft-side only you could see.

You settled to your natural position below his arm as he walked out of the building with you. Part of you wondered if he had a class he was missing but the answer was likely yes.

Michael was still looking down at you, not having to worry with accidentally bumping into anyone as it seemed everyone simultaneously decided to make a little pathway for the two of you. That was a treatment you were not used to.

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you, what is it?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. Were you really going to tell him? You didn’t think he would make fun of you or laugh, but you wouldn’t exactly blame him if he did. What if he was so weirded out he broke up with you? He definitely had more options on campus, you had heard the stories and while he knew you were a virgin and had respected it, your mind still gave you the worst case scenarios. In truth though, he really respected it. More than you expected coming from a man who could have sex whenever he wanted. He had patiently waited for months, not once even mentioning it. And you felt awful that you were repaying him by ignoring him for weeks now.

“I-I’m just nervous.” You glanced up at him from between your eyelashes, bashfully.

He stopped near a bench, his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of what you were saying. “Nervous for what?”

Glancing around to make sure no one could overhear you, your voice lowered to a whisper. “To do…it…”

Michael didn’t say anything for a moment before it finally dawned on him. “Did I say something that made you feel uncomfortable? Because we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do! I didn’t even realize it was something that was on your mind.” He sat down on the bench so you, standing, were slightly taller than him for a change.

You sighed, leaning forward so his face was on your stomach and your hands were stroking his hair. “I know, and you didn’t even bring it up don’t worry. I was just thinking that, we’ve been dating for a few months now and I want to. I think I’m ready. I-I want you to be my first.”

Maybe it was your imagination that he held you tighter, closer, as you finished your sentence. But when you looked down, he was already looking up at you, his eyes darker than you remember them being.

“Yeah?”

You were blushing, your cheeks a dark red color, when you nodded timidly. “But I’m nervous.”

He stood at this point, making you crane your head to keep eye contact. One of his hands went to your neck and you swore you stopped breathing. Your breath hitched. But he rested his fingers on the side of your neck, his thumb being used to hold your titled chin up.

Michael’s voice was raspy when he spoke. “You have nothing to be nervous about, baby girl. We can go to your apartment if it’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

Oh my God. This was happening, right now.

You were done with classes. There was no reason to say no.

You feel your panties dampen as you nodded, almost like you were in a trance. Your heart leaped with excitement and just with the prospect that he was trying to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You were stumbling the entire way to your house, even dropping your keys more than once when it came to unlocking your door. Michael on the other hand, was striding confidently and quickly, almost leading you. His arms were around your waist and every so often they were trail up beneath your shirt or sneak beneath the elastic of your skirt, skimming your skin there, not phased by the looks thrown your way.

You could see the physical reaction your confession had on him and somehow that just made you more sexually frustrated. But also slightly more nervous. At his excitement, you didn’t want to disappoint. Especially now.

The second your door opened, Michael had you pushed up against the wall of your apartment, swinging the door just behind him, carelessly. His entire focus was on you and your lips. You’d made out many times but this time felt different. His kisses were more frenzied, hotter and definitely hungrier. He was leaning down to kiss you but eventually, he picked you up. You gasped as he put you so you were laying across his shoulder. You were facing the room, your hands on his back to hold you up, as he walked you to your room. “Michael!”

Your chastising tone turned into a tiny scream as he lifted you off and practically threw you on the bed, but making sure you landed safely in your cushioned pillows. Your hair was all around you in a messy position. But you stared breathless up at Michael. It was almost wrong how turned on you got at being manhandled that way, being thrown around like you were a toy.

You were sure you whole face was red as he moved to hover above you. His body shadowed your entire figure. “M-Mikey.” Your voice was laced with want, without you even meaning it to be.

Michael moaned under his breath at the way you looked under him. Your cheeks tainted as your blood rushed to your face and your big doe eyes staring at him in with an innocent pout. He wanted to ruin you.

But he controlled himself just slightly by closing his eyes. “Let me know when you want to stop, okay? Whenever you feel uncomfortable just say the word.”

You nodded childishly, your mind not being able to process much of anything except for the fact that he was about to be inside you. You smushed your thighs together to try to soothe the ache between them.

Michael moved down and you knew what he was going to do so you took his shoulders to stop him. He looked at you with questioning eyes when you shook your head. “N-no. Just want you inside me. Please.”

He tore his shirt above his arms and then began doing the same with your ruffled shirt. You were both desperate, it was obvious with the quickness you both took to undress. You were surprised at how expertly he took off your panties and bra.

Everything was happening so fast. So much so that you had nearly forgotten what it was you were worried about. When Michael took a pause to look at you and your body, however, it all came rushing back. Your hands instinctively went to cover yourself from his eyes. The eyes that were staring at you with a level of adoration that you hadn’t seen before.

His hands captured your wrists before leaning down and kissing you. His silver chain dangling between your bodies.

Pushing your hands away, his own hands replaced yours. One of his hands cupped your tits, massaging them gently while the other traveled to your pussy. Pushing your legs apart, his index and ring fingers spread your lips before his thumb rubbed your clit.

Your hips stuttered, grinding upwards against his hand at the pleasure they brought which seemed to make you lightheaded. You wanted more.

Glancing up at him, you saw the way his built body was strewn with black ink. The visuals of which had your own hands exploring his abdomen, neck, and arms. You had always found them attractive but seeing them in their entirety, how they took up much of his body, they were downright sinful to look at. He was perfect.

His finger prodded your entrance and your mouth had fallen open. Only mewling sounds could escape you. Michael smirked, his gaze transfixed on your open mouth. Dirty thoughts littered his brain.

“Am I the first person to touch you like this, little one?” He’d never called you that before. You sucked in your breath and nodded. Suddenly aware of how small you were compared to him and you felt yourself practically gushing at the thought.

“Good.” He groaned out. One of his hands left your chest and reached up to your lips, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down slowly, his eyes following every movement.

The dichotomy was almost too much. The way his rough hands, covered in tattoos and scars, gently caressed your naked body was so different from what you expected. But it was exactly what you needed.

His hands left you as he shifted to be directly on top of you. “Are you ready?” The tip of his nose skimmed your cheek.

You were really about to do this.

You bit your bottom lip for a second, “I just don’t want to disappoint you.” You whispered so lowly that he wouldn’t have been able to hear if he weren’t so close to you.

Again, his big hand reached up to your face, this time taking a whole of your jaw, his palm covering nearly your entire jawbone. But he was gentle with you. A thought in the back of your mind considered what it would be like if he was rougher. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the thought.

“You don’t have to worry about that. Just the thought of me taking your virginity makes me want to bust a nut right here and now.”

A nervous giggle left you and he smiled right alongside you. And finally, you found the courage to nod. You trusted him. In fact, now that you were with him, any and all insecurity seemed to go away as if it didn’t exist at all. He had that power, to make you feel confident. Like there was no one in the world that mattered more.

Michael looked down between you as you grabbed onto his muscular biceps. Glancing down, you saw him take a hold of his dick and lead it right to your entrance. You inhaled sharply at his size. Of course you didn’t have much of any experience but even then you knew he was big. Bigger than you expected at least. And he was almost painfully hard. How had you gotten such a hot boyfriend?

The head of his dick touched prodded your entrance experimentally and you stiffened at the foreign feeling. You feared your cheeks would be permanently red from how much you were blushing. The room felt hot and your body was like it was on fire but still you felt coldness at your nerves.

Michael took a hold of your inner thigh, moving your legs to be even more open. “Relax.” He murmured, “I’ll go slow. Just let me do everything, okay? I want this to feel good for you.” His voice was a soft, comforting coo.

When he finally entered you, your back arched forward as you gasped sharply. There was pain and you weren’t sure if it was supposed to feel like what you were feeling or if it was amplified because of his length and girth. Maybe both. He was filling you up impossibly tight.

Michael, for his part, closed his eyes and tilted his head back in pleasure as he entered you. “You’re so tight.” He groaned out and it almost sounded like he was in pain but one of his hands trailing back to your boob and kneading was an indication that it was pleasure, not pain. He had expected you to be tight but not this tight. It felt like you were suffocating his dick but in the best way possible.

He’d never been with a virgin before, you knew. And you didn’t think either of you had expected the feelings you were currently feeling. Your pain dissolved rather quickly and once it did, the overwhelming pleasure, a new kind of sensation you had never felt before, set in.

Michael watched you with cautious eyes, stopping when he saw your face scrunch up in pain. Moving only when he heard an elongated moan come out of you when the pain started to subside.

His thrusts were slow at first, testing the waters to make sure no pain remained. But once you began writhing under his, your hands fisting the fabric of your bed sheets, he began to move faster. Or as fast and deep as he could in your still tight cunt. Part of his dick still couldn’t fit into you and he had to stop his eyes from rolling to the back of his head at the sight. It was like a fantasy to see your small body so filled.

“Fuck, look at you.” He muttered, “Stuffed with my cock. Can hardly get it in all the way.” He gave an abrupt thrust, pushing himself all the way inside you, making you gasp out loud. “But you’re still blushing like you’re shy. As if your pussy isn’t getting absolutely destroyed.”

The sight of you was possibly the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. You were blushing like a shy, virginal little girl while you let his thick cock pound into you. Your hands searched anything they could find to hold tightly to, your body writhing under him.

It was even better when he knew that that was exactly what you were. You were so cute and pure but here you were, letting yourself be corrupted by the guy that everyone least expected, the one that screamed bad news and had a rap sheet to prove it. He was the one that was taking away your innocence, the very thing that you seemed to exude. He was taking it and defiling it for his pleasure. That thought had him thrusting harder into you, with a new vigor just because he could.

And he knew you would only be like that for him. He was the only man that had ever touched you, ever fucked you. Only his cock has and ever will be drilling into you like he currently was. Only he has ever known your body and only he would be able to help you explore what you liked and teach you what he liked. You were his, totally and completely. And he was never letting you go.

He wasn’t sure if it was that thought which stroked his possessive ego or because this was the first time he’d had sex with someone he actually loved but your pussy felt nearly magical around his cock.

“So pretty.” He refrained himself from saying more. He wanted to fuck you like the doll you resembled, tell you every dirty, degrading thing he wanted to do to you, with you. But he didn’t. It wouldn’t do any good to do anything outside of your comfort zone, especially for your first time. Instead, he focused on making you the most comfortable possible. And if that meant he got to tell you how much he loved you and how good you were for him, then all the better. He would have plenty of time to show you everything he wanted to teach you and find out what your secret little kinks were later.

His hands had moved to hold your legs still as they moved every time you flailed under him, trying to cope with the pleasure. Your body began bouncing under him as his thrusts got more punctuated and faster. You egged him on, wanting him to please you as much as he could. You didn’t want him to be gentle and slow just because it was your first time. No, you’d been yearning for him to fuck you for too long for that.

“You’re doing so well. Such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this.” He praised, kissing your thigh. “Taking my cock so well, baby girl.”

Your eyes were shut, your mouth capturing your bottom lip, as he drilled into you, thrusting deep. His hips moved expertly so much so that you finally understood why he was his activities in the bedroom were so well known.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to my cock soon and it’ll be the only one you’re going to get from now on. You’re mine.”

Your moans had started to get higher in volume but shorter and quicker. Nodding at his words, “O-only want your cock.”

Your words were filthy. You had never talked like that before just like he had never talked to you like that before. You weren’t even aware either of you could say something so dirty but coming form his mouth, they just made your stomach erupt in butterflies.

Michael growled at your words, his thrusts getting rougher as he finally managed to stretch you out enough to take all of his cock, going as deep as he could go. You were taking it in stride considering his size and it was your first time. He was too far gone so he couldn’t control his next words. “I’m going to make this cunt mine. Yeah, you want that?” His lips found yours in a bruising kiss. “Gonna become a slut just for me?”

It was like his invisible self control had snapped. While he remained relatively gentle in his thrusts and his touch was still soft and controlled, his words were nothing you’d ever heard before. From him or from anyone.

And you loved it. You were panting at his surprising and dirty words, your face heating up more and your heart nearly pounding out of your chest. You wanted him to make good of everything he was saying. And as he stared at your flushed face, the more he wanted to make good of his words, the harder he fucked into you.

It blew his mind how sexy he found the paradox between your bashful appearance and the perverted things you were currently allowing him to do to you, especially as you looked up at him, helpless to do much except enjoy the pleasure, with those big demure eyes. Not so demure anymore as they were filled with profane lust.

His words made you feel sexy and your earlier insecurity had completely left your mind. You were more than pleasing him. This had to be the best sex he’d ever had. If he would’ve known fucking a virgin, specifically his virgin girlfriend, would’ve felt so good, he would’ve snatched you up a long time ago. Because he knew it was you that was making this feel so good. Any other girl wouldn’t have the same effect. No, only you could make him feel like this.

Leaning forward until your naked bodies were together, his actions made everything seem that much more intimate and as you listened to his breathing, you felt so vulnerable and loved in that vulnerability. Clenching around him, you began pushing against him, meeting his thrusts as well as your inexperienced hips could. But it worked because he let out a curse and then your name.

If you had any worry that you were doing anything wrong, it was gone when he was back in control o himself and moaned out, “That’s perfect. You feel so good. You like that?”

Your answer came in a repeating of ‘yeah’s that were beginning to sound like a mantra. You couldn’t put your thoughts together enough to come up with full sentences.

“Of course you do, always so good for me, little one. You were made for me. Made for my cock, we fit so perfectly. Everything I could want.”

His praise made you blush thoroughly and made your heart soar. It made you just want to do anything you could to make him feel good. Even if it was completely new territory to you, his sweet words were exactly what you needed to let you not feel awkward or insecure but instead focus on enjoying the moment.

He was not only making you feel comfortable but also confident enough to let loose and want to do it again. And again and again. Without the insecurity. He loved you, you loved him and you couldn’t think of a better way to have sex for the first time.

You thought for a second that he not only met but exceed all of your expectations of how good he would be in bed but then his cool eyes met yours and you stopped thinking at all. You didn’t even question if he felt as good, as pleasured as you did because his eyes were dark with desire and sweat was accumulating on his body as he grunted.

You were practically screaming around them as his strokes slowed down, entering and going out twice before he hammered into you. Your breaths came out in short spurts and with them your broken moans.

The knot that had formed in you exploded and you felt yourself clench around him again as you came. Your cum was dripping down your thighs, onto him.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy, “That’s right…” He looked down between you. “Just like that.”

He kept thrusting, his words came out constrained as if he was trying to hold something back. “Where can I cum?”

He usually lasted longer than that. But he couldn’t when he was thinking of what exactly he was doing: taking his sweet, small, innocent girlfriend’s virginity. Not when he was ruining her so good that she just exploded all over him. No, that thought alone made him have to force back his incoming orgasm. But he couldn’t for long.

You wanted it to be a surprise when you told him you went on birth control weeks before. And you knew you made the right decision when you saw his face. “Inside me.”

Michael’s eyes widened impossibly and his thrusts just got faster as he groaned out. You were a dream, too good to be true. Much too good for him. “Shit.”

His cum filled you up in the best way possible. But still you felt empty when he finally pulled out. Your body craved him back, even just for the contact of having him that close to you.

You watched Michael spread your puffy and sore lower lips apart, watching your cum, mixing together, trickling down your inner thigh. He sucked a breath in at the sight. “God, you’re so beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your heart swelled.

Then he moved to lay directly beside you, his head leaning, satisfied, on your pillow. While you took up a little more than half of the bed length, his body covered the entire thing.

You were blushing when you hid your face in your pillows, but he took a hold of your face before you could. “You did so good, took me so well.”

Blushing, you bit your bottom lip. “Was it good for you?”

Then Michael laughed, but not a cruel or mocking laugh. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

To which you rolled your eyes until he took a hold of your hair, pulling it so that you looked at him again. You worried yourself slightly when you got turned on at the action. Maybe he was corrupting you like everyone warned. If he was, you definitely didn’t mind.

“I mean it. Your pussy was so tight and you were so hot.” His lips pecked yours lovingly.

He smiled wickedly back at your timid smile. You snuggled into him, slowly as your body was already beginning to feel sore. His arm wrapped around you easily. “I’m sorry if some the things I said were too far. Kinda lost control there.” He sounded almost sheepish.

Looking up at him, you felt your face heat up again. You were almost worried he’d judge you for your next words. “Don’t be. I….I liked it.”

But he did the exact opposite. His eyes darkened as he searched your face, looking for any hint that you were kidding. When he found none, he moved his face to be just a few millimeters from yours. “Don’t look at me with those big eyes and blush like that while you say that, little girl, unless you want to be stuffed with my cock again.”

Your mouth fell open at his words. He was usually so kind and cautious with his words, you had never known him not to be overly concerned with you and your feelings. Though he made sure to praise you during your first time, now, the degrading words that he had sprinkled in were right alongside them. And you didn’t mind one bit. You had definitely uncovered a new side of Michael. A side that you really liked. Maybe you had uncovered a new side of you as well.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth, as if he was considering something. Like just how good you would look with his hand around your neck while he fucked you. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You might your lip, nodding shyly to which he chuckled. “Of course you would.”

Life was so good. It handed you a sex god on a silver platter. You were sure your first time wasn’t supposed to feel as good as it did. But even though the pleasure was on your mind, you also thought about how lucky you were that he was your first. You’d never felt as loved or connected with someone as you did in that moment. You were convinced you wouldn’t have felt as at ease and guided if it was with someone else.

It was a while before he talked again, “I guess you’re not the pure girl everyone thinks you are anymore.” He was smirking triumphantly, “Now, you’re mine.”

not this being 5.1k words. might’ve gone a little overboard but i really liked this prompt! hope you do too :)

i really had fun exploring the beginnings of their relationships where y/n is very much still shy and intimidated of michael and where michael is a lot more reserved in bed in order not to overwhelm her or scare her too much but still slipping in what he would eventually be like in the actual story.

#5sos smut #michael clifford smut #michael clifford #michael clifford x reader #bad boy smut #virginity kink #5sos #bad boy michael

[aliciam72]

So before I get to the story (thank you to all who gave me suggestions I will be getting to all of them) I want to vent a bit. I know many fans of the show are very upset about the last episode and that is totally valid. I respect your decision to not watch, strike that scene from canon, write fix its, or stop writing all together. What I ask in return to have my decision to continue to write Malex respected as well. Now, everyone here has been wonderful and no one has ever said anything negative to me...I actually posted this on A03 first and got a comment I was not expecting...probably because if I’m not happy with a story I usually just move on, I don’t leave negative comments. This person (and I’m not sure they are on tumblr or not) did say they were happy with the ending of my story but went on to trash Guerin calling him a ‘vile douchebag’ I get it...people are mad at him and Maria. I’m not jumping into the fray...I just want to write fic. And I like Michael. I like Malex. While this story doesn’t end happy for Michael, the follow up I have planned does. I’m not asking for validation or sympathy...I just need to vent a bit. Okay...on to the story!

What’s in a name? 

Isobel and Michael sat in a booth at the Crash Down across from Max waiting for Liz to join them. 

“Where’s Maria?” Isobel looked at her phone for the fifth time since they sat down. 

Michael shrugged. “Probably the Pony. We’re...uh...not talking right now.”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “What now?”

“I may have accidentally broke some glasses last open mike night. We’re on a break or something...” 

“And why did you break glasses?” Max questioned.

Isobel smirked. “I’m guessing it had to do with our local war hero and his blue haired boy toy.” 

Liz slid in the booth next to Max, still wearing her uniform. “Oh Mikey, it’s a bit more than a break.”

Michael glared at her. “Do we need to talk about my love life?”

“Don’t you mean lack of love life?” Max teased.

“We can talk about my love life instead.” Isobel offered taking pity on him.

Michael and Max shook their heads but Liz leaned in and set her elbows on the table. “Do tell! Anyone we know?”

“Well, I almost hooked up with your ex but I think I scared him off with my dirty talk.”

“Eww, Iz, I do not need to hear you were dirty talking to Valenti!” Michael groaned. 

“Too bad. I’ve had to witness your numerous hook ups over the years. The only one I wasn’t grossed out by was Alex and you went and screwed that up.” She turned to Liz. “I went to a gay bar.”

Liz’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I want details!!”

Michael threw money on the table and stood up. “I’m outta here.” 

“C’mon Michael, don’t leave me to listen to this alone...again.” Max pleaded. 

Sighing dramatically, Michael sat down and motioned for Isobel to continue. 

“Her name is Blaire and she is almost as hot as me!” 

Michael tuned Isobel out while she replayed her night with the blond bartender from Planet 7. He let his mind wander back to the last open mic night at the pony. 

“Didn’t think you were coming tonight. I thought dramatic poetry reading wasn’t your style.” Maria pushed a beer towards Michael.

“I’m here to support my girl.” Michael leaned across the bar and gave her a quick kiss.

“Don’t call me that. It makes me feel like a dog. And unless you’re paying it’s not much support.” 

“You wound me, DeLuca. I’ve been paying my tab for weeks now.” Michael flashed her a wide smile. 

Maria leaned over and kissed him again. “Yeah, yeah. Just behave okay? Alex is coming with Forrest.”

Michael stiffened but nodded. “I’ll be good.”

He tried. He really did. He greeted Forrest and Alex with a smile and wave. He sat and politely listened to an overdramatic Forrest recite a ridiculous poem while staring into Alex’s eyes. He even kept his temper when Alex clapped and whistled after he finished. But when Forrest made his way back to their table and kissed Alex in a way that Michael was never allowed to well, he lost control of his powers for a second and broke a whole row of Maria’s beer glasses. 

“What the fuck, Guerin!” Maria shouted over the performer on stage. 

“Oh my God, Maria, I’m sorry!” Michael jumped up to help her clean up the glasses. 

“Don’t!” Maria pushed him away.

Michael flinched. “I said I was sorry.” He whispered not sure Maria heard him. 

“He’s allowed to be happy. You chose me, remember?” Maria hissed.

“I know. It’s just hard-“ Michael tried to explain. 

“Well, it shouldn’t be. You have no right to be jealous.”

Michael sighed. “I know. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t. Get out. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Michael frowned. “It was a mistake. I-I just lost control for a second.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think this whole thing was a mistake. Even after everything you still love him don’t you?”

“Maria, that’s not fair. You know I do but you’re right, I chose you.” Michael glanced to Alex’s table and caught him staring. He looked more confused than angry and that made Michael feel horrible. 

“God! You can’t even pay attention to me when we’re fighting! Really, Guerin, leave.” Maria grabbed the beer from his hand and pointed to the door. 

“Are we?” Michael didn’t know what he wanted to ask.

“Done? Yeah, I think we are. And maybe stay away from Alex too. He doesn’t deserve your shit.” Maria turned her back on Michael and started sweeping up the glass. 

Michael slowly got up and headed to the door. He slowed at Alex’s table. “I’m sorry, it was an accident. You were good, Forrest.”

“Earth to Micheal...” Isobel waved her hand in front of Michael’s face. 

Michael looked at her. “What’d I miss?”

Max laughed. “Just the whole story.”

Michael was about to say something when Alex and Forrest walked in and headed to the counter. Alex leaned over and said something to the waitress before turning to them and smiling. Forrest gave him a quick kiss and headed to the bathroom. 

Liz rolled her eyes. “I don’t get how he can date a Long. Especially after everything Wyatt has done to all of us!”

Michael stopped looking at Alex. “Forrest isn’t Wyatt.”

Liz’s eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t tell me you actually think Forrest is good for Alex do you? I thought that was what the broken glasses and Maria dumping you was all about.”

“She dumped you?” Isobel gave him a look of surprise.

“Yeah, she did. I lost control and she got mad. Said I shouldn’t be jealous and she was right but that’s not really why I lost control. And before you ask, I’m not telling you why. Forrest may be a Long but he’s nothing like the rest of them. He’s treats Alex right and that’s all that matters. So, please Liz don’t hassle him. I know Wyatt has done a lot to your family but let Alex have this, he deserves to be happy.” Michael stood and strode out of the diner. 

He made it to his truck before he realized someone was calling his name. He turned to see Alex making his way over to him. He hung his head and debated ignoring him but Alex was in front of him before he could open the door. “What do you want, Alex?”

“I’m sorry about Maria.” Alex said shifting his weight to his good leg. 

“You chased after me to tell me you’re sorry Maria dumped my ass?” Michael laughed and reached to open his door. 

Alex grabbed his arm and cleared his throat. “That’s not really what I meant. I’m sorry for being the reason you let your control slip.”

Michael didn’t turn around. “You weren’t.” 

“Michael, you’re a terrible liar. I know Forrest kissing me in front of everyone hurt you. I...we...try not to flaunt this in your face—“

“You shouldn’t have to hide anything from me. I sure as hell didn’t.” Michael was suddenly angry. Why was Alex being so nice to him? He walked away from him, right into the arms of his best friend. He had every reason to flaunt his relationship with Forrest in his face. Michael wasn’t jealous, he was hurt. Forrest got to have the version of Alex he never got to have. The version who had no problem kissing or holding hands in public. He was happy Alex felt comfortable enough to live his life in the open but it still stung that the whole time they were together they had to keep it a dirty secret. 

“No, you didn’t.” Alex turned to leave but only a got a few steps before turning back. “Thank you for what you said to Liz. It means a lot.”

Michael watched Alex walk back to Forrest who was waiting by the door holding their food. “Alex!”

Alex stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“I know, Michael. I know why and like I said, I’m sorry.” Alex gave him a small smile before taking the bag from Forrest and heading to the car.

Michael opened the door to the truck and got in. He rested his head on the steering wheel and tried to keep the tears from falling. 

#forlex #past malex #my fic #roswell new mexico #no more Miluca #Michael is a good guy

[alexanderlightweight]

Lies Made of Truth

(Part of the Roswell New Mexico Week 2019)

Prompt: Make something RNM related you’ve always wanted to make. BE BOLD, BE WEIRD.  

“I need you to pretend to be Alex’s jealous ex,” was the first thing Michael heard when he opened the door to Liz’s lab and he blinked.

For a moment he just stood there, trying to understand if he was in some kind of awful tequila/acetone induced hallucination or if he’d overused his powers or maybe he was dead.  That made more sense then the words currently being spoken.  Michael’s mouth opened and when the sentence ‘but I am his jealous ex’ didn’t come out he closed it again, exhaling before asking a simple, “what?”

Liz had the good sense to look a little sheepish, “sorry, hi Mikey.  A couple of my friends from my old job decided to unexpectedly visit.  Since I’m kind of in the middle of,” she gestured to the lab where they were working on a variety of serums, “I can’t really have them around.  I got Alex to agree to hangout with them at Maria’s but unfortunately Anthony is now enamored and since Alex is playing distraction to keep them from noticing anything alien, he can’t exactly tell him to fuck off.”  

“And Alex needs a jealous ex because?”

“Because I accidentally mentioned that he was single before I introduced him,” Liz admitted and winced, “I completely forgot he was Anthony’s type.”

“Great.  And I’m the logical choice because?”

Liz shrugged, “well it’s you or Kyle and they all know Kyle is my ex, but he is next on my list to ask.”

And that, that right there was not happening.  At all.  It was bad enough that Alex and Kyle were now friends -despite everything from high school- he was not about to deal with Kyle also pretending to be Alex’s ex boyfriend.

“What’s in it for me?”  He asked, because it would be suspicious not to.

“You’re literally going to be helping distract a group of three very intelligent biomedical doctors who will take one look at my lab and know that half the research here isn’t approved by the hospital.  Do you need something else?”  Liz’s tone was all sass and Michael grinned because despite everything else, he did enjoy working with her.  Most of the time.

“Well then, I guess I’m in.”  

“Great, I’ll text Alex and let him know his jealous ex is on his way to rescue him.  They’re at the pony but they’ll be heading over to the Crashdown for lunch.  Thanks for this Mikey, really.”  Liz’s smile was one of relief, “Maria can’t really leave The Pony during lunch hour and Alex is a few hours of socializing away from knocking them all out and disappearing for a few weeks.”

Michael nodded, as if this wasn’t going to be either an excruciatingly painful or incredibly amazing afternoon.  “As long as lunch and tonight's drinks are all on you then we’re good.”

-

The drive to Crashdown was shorter than he’d like.  An unfamiliar car was parked next to Alex’s jeep and Michael set his hat on his head, tugging it low over his brow and tapped at his steering wheel with his leg hand as he gathered his thoughts and emotions.  He doesn’t give a fuck about Liz’s friends  -beyond not wanting them to find out about him and Isobel and Maz- but this is Alex and he’s only just realizing that even if everyone else thinks it’s pretend, Alex will know it’s real.

-

Alex was looking at his phone when Michael entered, his face caught in a grimace that Michael recognized as one of annoyance and not pain.  If the irked glances he shot the man opposite him were any indicator, then that was Liz’s infatuated friend, Anthony.  

Michael didn’t even bother taking in his appearance.  Ten years hadn’t changed what Alex looked like when he was interested in someone and there wasn’t even a hint of it there.  Feeling more than a little smug he walked over, “Alex,” he said and from the startled look on Alex’s face as he looked up from his phone, Michael knew Liz hadn’t given any warning as to who was rescuing him.  

Without waiting for an invitation Michael slid into the both, sprawling across the seat until his thigh was obviously pressed up against Alex’s.  

“Michael Guerin,” he offered across the table, “Liz sent me down to say hello and grab her some lunch since it’s my turn to leave the lab.”  He said the last bit with a smirk and a wink, tipping his hat playfully before letting his arm rest casually behind Alex.  

He was sent a very pissy side-eye that he ignored, letting his thumb brush against Alex’s stiff shoulder as the three introduced themselves.  He’d been right about which one was Anthony and he nodded politely at the other two when they introduced themselves as Sam and Parker.  

“Oh you work with Liz?”  

“Here and there,” he offered, “she calls me in sometimes.  She’d in the middle of a pretty sensitive experiment though.  Since I was coming over anyway she told me to introduce myself.”  He grinned then, noticing immediately how Anthony’s eyes were stuck on where his arm rested around Alex.

“So you know Alex as well?”  Anthony asked, “he’s been very helpful in showing us around while Liz was busy.”

“It’s Roswell,” Michael said casually enough and Alex relaxed minutely, “seems I’m always running into either old classmates or an ex.  Normally I’d say that’s what's rough about living in such a small town but, well, it’s never a hardship to run into Alex.”  He put just enough of a leer into his voice that it left little interpretation as to which of the two categories Alex fell into.

There was a moment of awkward silence that was thankfully broken by plates of food and milkshakes.  Liz had already texted Arturo both her order and Michael’s, which meant a milkshake and piece of chocolate cake was placed in front of him.  

A milkshake with two straws.

Michael may have been slightly amused by the turn of events but Alex definitely wasn’t, if the way his gaze turned slightly murderous as he stared at the milkshake that was practically taunting them.

“Aw, he remembered our order,” Michael said.  It was more of a bittersweet statement than anything, he and Alex had never been able to really share anything in public.  All their moments were stolen away in his truck or the emporium or the shed.  This was all Liz and they both knew it.  Just like they both knew that this is what they had always wanted to share, a hope that had been lost in the aftermath of a decade of heartbreak and hope.

Alex just sighed and inched his fries towards Michael before viciously stabbing the shake with one.

“They’re better with a milkshake,” was all he told Liz’s friends, ignoring Anthony’s put upon frown.  Michael waited a few minutes, making polite talk about science before he pulled the shake closer to him for a sip.  He left it there, which meant that the next time Alex reached over to dip a fry he had to lean, practically draping himself over Michael’s lap.

“Asshole,” he muttered under his breath.  Michael would have been worried but Alex was more relaxed now, not so rigid and when he settled back into the booth, it was with his body firmly pressed against Michael’s.

Lunch was close to ending by the time Michael moved his arm, let it drop between them and his hand found a resting space on Alex’s thigh.  There was a hesitant moment before Alex leaned just a little bit closer and Michael tightened his grip, unwilling to let go and knowing that soon enough he would have to.  

A few minutes went by, a cautiously awkward lull in the conversation when all of their phones went off.  Michael read his and let a small smile tug at the corners of his lips.  “I’m guessing we all got similar texts, looks like Liz won’t be needing me to drop of her food anymore.  She’s done for the day and will be heading over pretty soon.”  

“Will you be coming out with us tonight?”  Sam asked and Michael wasn’t really sure who it was addressed to but was pleasantly surprised when both he and Alex replied in the negative.

“Long day tomorrow,” was his excuse while Alex just shrugged and mumbled something about having plans.  

“Maybe tomorrow then,” Anthony said hopefully.

Alex just tilted his head and with a deadpan expression said, “maybe.”  He wasn’t limping when he eased out of the booth but he did grit his teeth at the first step and while Michael didn’t do to help him, he stayed close enough that if Alex needed to, he could reach out.

“You alright?”  He asked once they were clear of the Crashdown and unwanted ears.  Alex had his phone out, looking at some new message he’d received and Michael had to bite down on his tongue.  Wondering just what kind of plans Alex had for the night.

Alex turned to him for a moment, looking wary and on the verge of shutting down, which meant shutting Michael out and then a weary smile tugged at his lips.  “I’m good, just been a long day.”  

Something almost like hope unfurled in Michael’s chest, this was the most time they’d spent together in months and it felt good.

“Want to go for a ride?”  He offered, standing next to his truck, hat in his hands.  Alex visibly wavered, conflict clear on his face and when he nodded with a small smile and stepped over to the other door, Michael felt almost whole again.  

#roswellweek19 #rnmweek19 #roswell new mexico #michael guerin #alex manes #liz ortecho #malex #malex fic #my fic #fanfiction #I have no idea what this is tbh #I couldn't think of anything else #fanfic #roswell nm fic #writing #also timeline?? what timeline #this was a fun week #very enjoyable

[official-michael-afton]

We met in a Sonic parking lot

I wanted to write out something of how Mikey and @animdude-official first met... I accidentally made it more sad then I meant to but the ending is just as chaotic and gay as their relationship so AYY

Content warnings: PTSD and traumatic flashbacks, dissociation, unintentional self harm(staying in cold for too long). Read at your own risk!

It was cold. Colder than it normally was for 2 in the morning, at least. Mike sighed, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie as if that’d offer him any more heat. When had he even gone outside? Why? He was running from something- he never goes out at 2am unless something’s causing him distress, but he can’t even remember what it was this time. Same trauma, probably? … He should probably go to therapy. Guess it didn’t matter, though. The zombie looked around, trying to figure out where he wandered off to in his spell of dissociation. Downtown Hurricane, in the parking lot of… a Sonic. Huh. Well that’s… new.

“What am I even doing…” He murmured to himself as he sat down on the concrete divider between asphalt and grass, observing how each breath he took let out a small puff of condensation. He didn’t even realize how cold he was until he looked down at his hands, observing how violently they shivered. For some reason, this made him get… mad? He tried to force his muscles to relax, but he kept shivering. Ugh, stupid body! Can it EVER do anything right?! … Can he ever do anything right?!

“Dammit…” Michael hissed at his eyes warmed up- heated by tears that started to roll down his cheeks. Why was he crying?! He wasn’t even sad, if anything he was angry! The more he got furious at himself, the more tears welled up and fell. His chest heaved as he fell into near hyperventilation, letting out one small yell of frustration before throwing his head down and holding it with his hands.

Small gasps of air before sobs echoed around him, the surrounding area might as well have faded to black as he fell out of touch with reality once again. No, no, not here, he can’t break here, not somewhere he can be vulnerable to robbery or worse…

He pulled his hands away from his head enough to look down at his hands. His shivering hands. His hands. That’s how he can ground himself, by observing what’s going on around him… what’s the exercise? 5 4 3 2 1?

5 things he can see.

His hands- His shivering hands. There’s one… the hoodie he wears all the time and really needs to wash… the old sneakers he wore- worn and scuffed but still good… the asphalt of the parking lot… the body before him-

No- NO! He’s NOT going back there! He refuses. He refuses. He won’t remember that night. He’s not there now, he’s not. He’s in a dumb parking lot. He won’t remember. Not here, not now.

4 things he can hear.

His breathing- uneven, but he’s still breathing. Unlike her- NO, NO! Next one! He can hear the faint plips as his tears fell onto the ground below him… the soft hum or an airplane far over him… the cars that drove in the parking lot, not knowing they were in the alley behind the diner-

“STOP!!!” He yelled to himself, pushing those memories back to the back of his mind, He’s NOT there, he’s NOT that child that found the body of his best friend, he’s in a GODDAMN SONIC PARKING LOT.

3 things he can feel.

The curls in his hair as he tugged at his locks again- The rain that soaked them to the bone- How cold her skin was.

“No… Please…” No matter where he tried to look, his mind was still in that alleyway. He wasn’t this adult anymore; he was a child again. He wasn’t himself. He was… staring at Charlie. They were young- he couldn’t remember how old. It was too late to save her. She was still wearing that green bracelet… the security puppet wrapped around her, soaked to the point of being broken.

2 things he can smell.

Metal. Metal. He knew what it really was, but it smelt JUST LIKE METAL.

1 thing he can taste.

METAL METAL M̴E̴T͜AL M̶E̸͢T͠A͜L̷ M̴̴̡E̶͠͠͏͟T̨͟͡͡Ą̧́͞L̶̷̕҉̶

“Um- a-are you okay?”

… That wasn’t her voice… it wasn’t his either… what?

Mike looked up, eyes wide in shock at the presence suddenly beside him. There was some adult looking down at him, looking… almost scared? Oh, they must see the body…

… Wait. No… there wasn’t some random adult that found them. No, no, that’s- that’s because he’s not… he’s not back there. He’s in the stupid Sonic parking lot… he’s not a child anymore, he grew up…

Wait. Shit. He was asked a question.

“Oh- u-um-” Mike stammered, wiping the tears from his eyes as he tried to keep his spirit in his body. Memories threatened to flood back and bring him to those awful places again, but he forced a smile while he fought. Fought to stay grounded and not make this stranger worry. “Haha, s-sorry, was I making a scene? I’m a dramatic lil dork~”

The stranger took a step back, eyes wide. Wait, what? No, Mike put on the cute act to calm them, not scare them more. Why did they look scared? What did he do wrong? Fuck, no, he can’t let his shell crack, this never happens he’s supposed to pass as FINE why can’t he JUST BE FINE-

“Do… um… do-do you want to get some milkshakes?” They pointed to the Sonic, offering a wary smile.

… What. They’re… being nice… but why? Didn’t Michael scare them? Aren’t they afraid- or at least revolted by how- how he was in the middle of a breakdown?

… and yet, them being here kept him HERE and not that alley…

“A-Are you sure? I mean- you- w-we don’t- um… know each other?”

“Well, um…” They scratched the back of their head, fumbling just as much as Mike to think of the right words. “You just… s-seemed to be uh- a little upset by yourself, I-I just thought… you know.”

They were… kind. And not the sinister type of kind that someone with bad intentions would be. It was like trying to make friends on the first day of school, in a way. They were both shy “… I don’t have any cash on me…”

“I have a- a few dollars, if you really want something?” They smiled, and Mike’s heart skipped a beat. Woah. That was… weird. All it took was smile for this person to go from a random dude to something almost like a magnet, drawing Mike in.

He probably shouldn’t say yes, but… “Well, i-if you’re okay with paying.”

An order placed. Vanilla with caramel for them. Extra dark chocolate for Mike. Payment, delivery, and now they both sat on that concrete divider. Just… sitting. Drinking. It was cold outside, too cold for angels to fly, too cold for milkshakes… but how could Mike turn down a milkshake? It was… oddly comforting.

“Y-You know, most people don’t… don’t like the cold, b-but its… nice, at this hour.” The stranger spoke again, trying to start a conversation.

Mike felt numb from the cold, but… it was far better than the breakdown he was having earlier. He decided to keep the conversation going. “It’s quiet… helps you think, right?”

“Yeah! You- You get it!” They smiled, seeming genuinely happy to connect with him. “Like- how the stars get clear and you can see them- a-a-and how it’s almost- like another world!”

“Mhm…” Mike took another sip of his shake before fiddling with the straw. “I’m… I’m Michael, by the way.”

They smiled, that same smile that made his heart skip a beat again. “Michael… I’m Anim- well, Scott… Well- I- uh-”

“You use two names, I guess?” Mike looked up at the other.

“We-Well, most call me Anim… it’s just- you know- my family calls me Scott, h-haha…”

… There was something weird about how he said that. Not a nickname thing, that was normal. But… there was something in the tone. The way he tried to laugh it off… it was like how Mike always tried to laugh off his trauma. … Of course, of course he’s hiding something hurting him. No mentally sane man would be in a Sonic parking lot at 2 in the morning, buying milkshakes for some stranger… was this Anim like Michael? … Maybe that’s something he can bring up later.

“… My brother’s name is Scott.” Mike decided to just keep the small talk going, not wanting to lose the friend he just made by prying too much. “He goes by “Red” though, not “Anim”, so that’s funny how you both have nicknames.”

“Oh, y-you have a brother? That’s neat!” Anim seemed to relax, probably grateful that Mike didn’t pry into the name business. “I um- don’t have a uh- any siblings, b-but! I have 3 kids, so there- there’s that!”

“Oh, you’re a dad? That’s awesome! I always wanted kids…” Mike trailed off, smiling at the fantasy of starting his own family one day…

“Well, if you want, um, i-if you don’t want to- to go home tonight, I can let you st-stay over at our house?” Anim asked gently, as if hesitant… probably wondering if it’s appropriate to ask something to someone who’s practically a stranger.

“… Pff, wow, you’re uh… awfully trusting of bringing a stranger to your family… how do you know I’m not some- some serial killer or something?”

He shrugged “You… don’t seem like that type, o-or something. I don’t know. I don’t just… want to leave you here when-” as he spoke, he moved a hand to gently pat Mike on the shoulder, but almost immediately pulled it away “O-Oh my gosh, you’re freezing-!” Before Mike could argue, Anim had already grabbed his free hand, holding it tightly as Mike saw the way his pupils visibly shrunk in shock “You- You’re like ice! How long were you out here-?!”

“I… don’t know…” Mike admitted shamefully, glancing off to the side. He stopped feeling cold forever ago, he just felt numb now. But, with the way his hand was held, he felt nothing but warmth…

“Oh no, o-oh no, I shouldn’t have kept y-you out here- c-c’mon, I need to get you somewhere warm, m-my house isn’t far from here, you can stay and warm up!”

Michael almost said no. How could accept such a kind offer from someone he didn’t know? How could he trust this stranger who may not have good intentions? How could he…

Yet, the warmth he felt when the other held his hand… this was a warmth he was determined to protect with his life.

“Okay, if it’s alright, then- aH-” He yelped when Anim grabbed him rather suddenly, literally sweeping him off his feet and carrying him, making sure his jacket was wrapped around them both before hurriedly carrying him back to his home. There was certainly an urgency in his step- was he worried Mike would freeze to death? How strange… to have so much trust in each other when they just met, it shouldn’t be how it works. He should feel cold- afraid- distant…

And yet, all he felt was warmth.

#my fics #smike #ptsd tw #dissociation tw #scottie <3 #mike: *has one breakdown in front of anim* #anim: *is kind and helps him through it* #mike: WELL HOW CAN I *NOT* MARRY HIM NOW

[renaroo]

Some Times (Time and Time Again) (1/8)

Disclaimer: Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics.  Warnings: Canon shaken not stirred, Heavy canon references to Booster Gold (2009-2011) and Blue Beetle (2016-2018) Pairings: Boostle Rating: T Synopsis: Booster Gold and the rest of the Time Masters are still straightening up things in the wake of the most recent universal Rebirth. But Rip Hunter is still missing in the aftermath, leaving Booster in charge with Skeets, Michelle, and Rani. But there’s a distraction for Booster, one he can’t keep himself from ignoring. 

Ted Kord, miraculously, is still alive. And that makes everything more complicated than Michael could have ever imagined. 

A/N: I’ve been toying around with this idea for what feels like forever, at least since the Rebirth books got launched over at DC, and I finally got time to really sit down and work it out. I’m really excited for this fic and hope it’s decent enough for some of you out there!

Blue Beetle

Life without an assistant, as it turns out, is shockingly compressed on time.

Jaime doesn’t need much help on his progress as the Blue Beetle, but so long as he is the Blue Beetle, Ted has no interest in slacking on the kid’s training. Assistant or no assistant.

With his laptop balancing precariously on his knee, and himself balancing precariously on the sloping hood of the Beetle, Ted is attempting to keep track of company stocks, a slack chat with members of his board, an incoming tech report from some computer analyst he hired out of Jaime’s high school last week, and not waste too much of his bagel in the process.

Despite the distractions, however, Ted’s real concentration is still on Jaime’s blaster as it destroys thousands of dollars and hundreds of man hours of equipment in the simulation fight.

It’s what Ted built it for, but still…

“Seriously, Mister Kord, I have to go meet my mom in, like, fifteen minutes,” Jaime shouts out over the sounds of debris dinging against the lab’s metal floors. He’s not even looking in Ted’s direction as he wastes another AI dummy that is gunning for him.

Feeling himself sliding a bit, Ted kicks back against the Beetle some to get back on his perch, his computer bobbing with the jarring, bagel bits flying. He wonders if an assistant would have helped with the bagel parts. And then he plays back the memory of Jaime’s highly pitched complaints.

“Hey, hey! How many times do I have to tell you, it’s not Mister Kord, kid, it’s Ted,” he argues on the important part.

Jaime’s suit unites his hand blasters into a single canon and blasts through more expensive equipment. He then looks over his shoulder and squints his large, buggy yellow eyes at Ted. “Maybe you should stop calling me kid then, Ted! Also, you’re missing the part where I’m warning you about a very angry Missus Reyes.”

Ted answers an email by holding the remains of his bagel between his teeth. Then he tilts his head back and swallows what he can, choking a bit, and accidentally sending a string of keyboard smashes to his company’s board of executives in response to a question about why so much money is being poured into Extraneous Funding. Bits of extraneous funded superhero training material flies toward Ted and the Beetle and if Ted didn’t know any better, he’d think Jaime was aiming in spite.

“Watch it, Jaime! I just buffed out the last dent in the Bug,” Ted warns, using his not-free-but-freer hand to rub the glistening hood to his side.

There’s a keening noise coming from the scarab on Jaime’s back that is only matched in annoyance by the groaning that Jaime’s doing on top of it. “Mister Kord!”

“Ted!”

“Ted! My mom! Ten minutes!”

Stock prices do dip, there’s another email update from this needy El Paso kid-slash-computer-genius, the board is up in arms at the insufficient response, Ted feels his stomach churning either in response to the million nasty things happening or to his bagel. And it all culminates in a tremor through his lower spine.

Despite or because of everything happening, Ted slips more from his spot, his body shifting and sliding right off the nose of the Bug. He, and all of his things, hit the floor in a clatter that manages to get Jaime to turn away from his training simulation entirely.

“Whoa! Ted, are you okay?” he asks just before getting hit by a blaster from behind.

“See! Never let your guard down!” Ted manages to yell before rolling over onto his back and laying in his mess of a lab and mess of a life. “Not even for your great and mighty mentor.”

He continues to lie on the floor, noting mentally that it’s surprisingly comfortable given that everything exploding in the lab eventually ends up there. It’s only when his vision is obscured by Jaime — no longer in his suit — staring down at him that he centers himself at least enough to be responsible for the teenager that he’s totally responsible for.

“Are you okay, Mister Kord?” Jaime asks, brows knitted in a little bit more genuine concern than what he usually offers Ted.

“I thought about it,” Ted answers with a harrowing breath. He releases the breath and melts into the floor a bit more. “And no. But who, at thirty-six, can truthfully say yes to that question.”

Jaime looks at him like he has three heads.

“Talk to me again in twenty years and we’ll laugh about it,” Ted promises him. “Get out of here, I don’t need a scary-angry Missus Reyes and you deserve a break. What’d’ya say?”

“Okay cool,” Jaime says, immediately walking away.

“You cold offer to help me up!” Ted yells after him.

“Do you want up?” Jaime asks from the doorway.

Ted stares at the ceiling and considers it. “Get out of here kid, I need to find a new assistant.”

“See you later, Mister Kord,” Jaime calls, closing the door behind himself and the last laugh.

“Kids,” Ted huffs to himself. “I need an assistant my age. No. Ten years younger. So I can watch the hope and youthful naivety die. That should sustain me. Think like a corporate CEO. Socioipathy. Hating kittens and… breathable oxygen or something.”

There’s a long silence in the lab, just Ted with himself and his thoughts. And when those turn scary he finally manages to get himself up, gather his things, and to start working on the next project.

Finding his new personal assistant.

There has been a stack of portfolios on his desk for a while, now, a few days at least. And he should be going through them for review but he hasn’t.

They all look the same on paper. Even the one written in German.

There isn’t enough time, and he’s only getting shorter on time the longer he goes without a personal assistant who is literally a speedster.

Time’s a funny thing that way.

Ted finds ways to waste more time without fully committing to any project or any responsibility in a way that matters before giving up in defeat and burying his head into the paperwork on his desk. There aren’t as many pings from his computers and he could probably rewire some of the broken lab equipment sooner than later, but he’s not really doing anything by the time his bagel fullness has subsided into the ache of needing a lunch break.

Which, on a normal day, is when Ted can finally get a hold of everything and pick a direction. He doesn’t really get the opportunity, though.

His head is still on the desk when an unfamiliar, radiant light picks up somewhere in the center of the lab, sending out a subtle heat that dies down with the light itself.

It hasn’t been that long since lizard people attacked so it doesn’t automatically raise Ted’s hackles the way it probably should, but it does at least get him to look up from his desk and see that the light was from some sort of transportation used to enter his lab.

And the one who used the transportation was none other than his best-friend-then-gone, and oddly out of touch, for years.

Booster Gold stares at him from the center of the room, his goggles resting up on his hairline rather than on his nose, letting Ted see the way Booster’s eyebrows ruffle together. They then raise in almost shock as he continues staring Ted’s way.

Ted blinks a few times. “Mikey?”

There’s a deep breath from Booster before he even blinks. Then he shakes his head, as if trying to parse reality, before finally looking at Ted again. “Beetle!” he blurts out, like it’s something he hasn’t gotten to shout in years.

Which, who knows, maybe he hasn’t.

“Did you just teleport into my office-slash-laboratory?” Ted tries to figure out.

“Of course I did!” Booster shouts again, laughing forcefully. He almost seems hoarse already.

“That’s… weird. Since when could you teleport?” Ted continues to question. “Also why? And. Uh. Hello. Been a while.”

“It has been. It’s been… way too long,” Booster continues, seeming breathless. “Wow. Okay. Cool.”

He seems so incredibly happy and relieved and just all these other emotions that Booster doesn’t wear comfortably.

And Ted, well, he’s growing impatient the more the confusion lingers.

“Yeah, it’s like the last time I saw you was in a car commercial,” Ted says flatly.

“Ha, yeah,” Booster replies without any weight to it.

“Probably because it was,” Ted leans in.

That, at least, seems to bring down the thousand watt smile to something closer to a nine hundred. “Oh.”

The air becomes stale unbelievably quickly.

“Yeah,” is all Ted can manage to say.

Booster continues to stare at him, some of the disbelief finally fading into mild concern. Which, Ted kind of hates because only Booster could make him feel like the bad guy for pointing out the truth.

Well, maybe other people, like a well paid assistant someday in the near future.

“Did we leave off on bad terms?” Booster asks, obviously fishing.

“I don’t know,” Ted answers honestly. “Did we?”

With that, Booster’s brows furrow again and he tilts his chin down, running his hand through the back of his hair nervously. “Hell, I don’t know. I.. There’s been a lot, y’know. Just. A lot. And… I didn’t know I could… if you…”

There is something to Booster’s words and actions that feels disconnected. He’s holding back a lot, which is weird. Because it’s Booster.

But the sentiment, well, Ted knows it all too well.

“Yeah, I get it. Me, too,” Ted huffs. “I guess… I mean. There’s not a whole lot to hang out about when, well, I’m retired and you’re… not? I guess. I don’t know where you even live anymore.”

“I can’t… really retire from the current gig,” Booster announces, again with that veiled subject. But he’s quick to change topic. “And there’s every reason to hang out with you. In fact, I’m glad you’re retired. Fuck, man, you better be retired and…” He stops himself short, pinches the bridge between his eyes, and then comes back to focus. “I came to ask if you… if you wanna get some drinks?”

“You teleported into my office-slash-laboratory to ask if we could get drinks before noon on a Tuesday?” Ted asks incredulously.

Booster blinks, looks around the mess of a lab, and then looks at Ted again. “Uh. Yeah?”

Ted considers it only for a second before sighing and coming to his feet. “Okay, fine, you’ve convinced me.”

“Wow, that took… no work whatsoever,” Booster says in vacant surprise.

“It’s been a hell of a morning and I want to figure out what’s different with you,” Ted announces. “I mean, again, last time I saw you was a car commercial—“

“Did I look good in it?” Booster asks almost mindlessly, his gaze a thousand yards past Ted at the time.

“No, the whole thing was on your bad side. You know. Where your chin looks bad,” Ted responds sarcastically, looking Booster over. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“Just drinks,” Booster promises, holding up his hands.

Ted squints at him. “Drinks and… mole people? Time eating octopus? A heist for J’onn’s Chocos?”

“Do you really think so little of me?” Booster asks, actually looking at Ted again. He seems… strangely earnest about it all. In a raw, painful kind of way.

Ted leans back, worried. “Uh. Did someone die?”

“No,” Booster laughs. Only, it’s not just a laugh, it’s an uproarious joyful kind of noise from the back of Booster’s throat. “Isn’t that the greatest thing you’ve ever heard? Isn’t that the best news I’ve ever given you? No one’s… Everyone’s… Wow. I sound like I’ve lost my mind.”

Booster walks past Ted and all but collapses into Ted’s desk chair, crumbling like a fallen tower, until his head has fallen between his knees.

Ted is stunned. And worried. Mostly stunned.

“Jesus, Michael,” Ted manages to get out as he approaches his friend. He looks around his desk, grabbing for the menus he knows are somewhere among the rubbish. “We’ll just order and have something delivered here for lunch. How’s that sound?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Booster continues hoarsely. “That sounds… Yeah, that’s an amazing idea, Teddy.”

At the sound of his old nickname, Ted has to pause looking through low sodium options and instead really looks at his friend. He’s pale and has bags under his eyes. There’s a certain unkempt nature to his hair and it’s sticking up behind his ears like it hasn’t been trimmed in a while. He’s clean shaven, but there’s the dusting of five o’clock shadow on his left cheek from an uneven shave.

It’s the worst Michael has looked to his knowledge. At least short of any life-or-death situations.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Ted not so much as asks as he demands.

“A lot,” Booster answers.

That’s not good enough and it explains nothing. And normally Ted wouldn’t think twice about saying as much. But for the moment, in that uniquely personal and miserably resigned way, Ted gives a gentler “Okay” instead.

When the air grows stale again, Ted tries a different approach.

“Is there anything you can tell me?”

Booster smiles just enough that his dimples make themselves known. “You’ll never have any idea how happy I am to see you again, Ted.”

Despite his confusion and concern, Ted can’t help the no-doubt dorky smile that comes to his face. “Right back at you,” he says, and it’s so truthful it hangs heavy in his voice. He offers up, in a mousy way, his fist. “Blue and Gold?”

There’s a brittle honesty to the expression of relief and appreciation in Booster’s face as he takes his own fist and bumps his knuckles against Ted’s. “Blue and Gold,” he says back almost reverently.

For a moment, Ted wonders how this is going to end, if it will be too soon or too long. He’s just strangely concerned and glad all at once that it exists at all.

So, of course, predictably, it ends too soon.

There’s a flash in the center of the laboratory, just like before, only this time both Ted and Michael are looking in its direction before it’s even over.

Booster manages to voice his surprise before Ted even has the chance.

“Skeets?” Booster’s voice strains.

“Michael, you’re needed for…” Skeets’ synthesized voice hesitates, if such a thing is possible for an AI, and the shiny robotic body shifts into Ted’s direction for a moment. “Hello, Blue Beetle.”

“Hey, I have a secret identity,” Ted jokes, waving to his Blue Beetle themed tee and the Bug.

Skeets, ever the comedic one, does not even acknowledge the detectable sarcasm in Ted’s voice before turning back to Booster. “Sir, you have an… appointment. With Rani.”

Ted can’t help his eyebrow raising and he looks toward Booster for clarification. He’s never heard the name Rani before, at least that he can think of. And he definitely hasn’t heard the name in connection to Booster.

But there is immediate recognition in Booster’s eyes. His body tenses up and he seems immediately more put together than he has appeared since teleporting right back into Ted’s life. He doesn’t even seem to realize that Ted is looking directly at him.

“Is she okay? I mean, does it have to be right now or…” Booster trails off, looking to Ted.

“I have been sent after you, Michael,” Skeets deadpans.

“Can’t you reschedule?” Ted asks, a little put off by all of this rather sudden and unexpected developments.

“It’s not that kind of date,” Booster says, getting to his feet and then flinching at his own words. “It’s… not a date at all it’s…” He seems uncomfortable in his own skin for a moment, scratching at his chin. “You…uh… I guess we should catch up. Soon. Like, really soon. You don’t know Rani? Really? Damn. I mean…”

“No,” Ted says flatly, crossing his arms as he sits back on his desk. “I guess we should catch up soon. Like over a lunch or something.”

“Okay, great,” Booster says, walking forward.

“I’d say pop in any time, but that seems to be the assumption—“ Ted begins to snark, but he’s cut off almost immediately by the tight embrace of Booster. It’s so tight it nearly knocks the air out of him.

Booster’s been working out since they last got into shenanigans together, it feels like he’s cutting off Ted’s circulation almost just through the hug. It’s warm, though, and it feels like the sort of emotional explosion that Ted would expect after years. Without the random teleportations and promises of lunch left thus far unfulfilled.

After a moment of the hug, Ted is finally able to gather himself enough to hug back, too, patting Booster’s shoulder as he does so.

“I miss you, too, buddy,” Ted says.

“It won’t be long, I’ll… I can promise that,” Booster says, finally letting go, holding Ted’s shoulders at arms length. “There’s just… some really hard stuff to explain going on right now.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ted jokes as Booster lets him go. “It’s… uh. Well it’s good to see you again. And will be again. Soon. Ish? Right?”

“Definitely,” Booster promises, getting close to where Skeets is in the center of the lab. “I’m… It’s great to see you again, Ted.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ted responds, waving just as the flash of light from before happens again, disappearing along with his best friend and his best friend’s robot from the future.

He remains where he is, leaned back on his desk, and tilts his head to the side.

“So how do I explain any of this in my log today,” he wonders out loud. After a long moment, he shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “Blue and Gold Nonsense it is then.”

#dc fic #Booster Gold #Blue Beetle #Boostle #Michael Jon Carter #Ted Kord #DC: Some Times (Time and Time Again) #writing

[yearsblog]

“I’m glad you noticed!” says Olly Alexander with one of his impish smiles. “I’ve come a long way since then.” We’re talking about the difference between the first time I saw him sing with his band, Years & Years, and the strutting peacock that he has since become. In 2015, fresh from winning the BBC Sound Of . . . poll, Alexander had a mean falsetto and a clutch of killer synth-pop ditties (Shine, King), but he cut a diffident figure during his show at the Heaven nightclub, dressed down in a T-shirt and beanie.

The second time I saw him, a year later, he was rising on a hydraulic lift through the stage of a rapturous Wembley Arena, wearing a red tunic with silver shoulder pads, and garlanded with laser beams. Alexander’s ascent to serious, tabloid-baiting stardom continues. Years & Years have a dazzling album out this week and days before we meet he was on Graham Norton’s sofa, regaling Cate Blanchett and Sandra Bullock with the story of how Meteorite, the song he wrote for Bridget Jones’s Baby, was about “a big dick”. Diffident no longer.

“Looking back, it’s quite overwhelming,” says Alexander, 27, as he lunches on quinoa in a restaurant in King’s Cross, north London. He is slight and conspiratorial, with tiny safety pins through his ears, a ring through his nose and his cropped hair dyed scarlet. “At first you really don’t know what support from an audience is going to feel like. But when people started showing their support for me being honest and being a camp, gay frontman — I just never really expected it and it added so much fuel to my fire.”

Among the things he has eloquently spoken out on are LGBTQ rights (he presented a BBC Three documentary called Growing Up Gay), mental health (he extols the virtues of therapy, which he started pre-emptively, before he became famous) and bullying (at school in Gloucestershire he was regularly “bushed”: thrown into the bushes next to the assembly hall). He is far more vocal than he was at the start of his music career, when an industry person advised him not to talk about being gay. “She was, like, ‘Why do people need to know your sexuality?’ She wanted to protect me.”

Well, it turned out that he didn’t need protection, he needed confidence. That came with experience and a changing musical landscape in which artists as diverse as Janelle Monáe, Christine and the Queens, Frank Ocean and Perfume Genius felt able to be candid about their sexuality. “It’s quite astonishing,” Alexander says. “We’re seeing a lot more visible queer artists and visible gay people.”

Pop has been missing male stars with strong views, especially those with a sense of theatre; it’s all uber-polite George Ezra or anti-glamorous Ed Sheeran. “It has its place, having someone who’s not dressed up,” Alexander says, trying to be diplomatic. “But the thing I love most about pop music is the fantasy, the escapism. I had this moment when I realised I’m in the best place to engineer that for myself. I realised you could go as far as you want on stage.”

A few weeks ago at Radio 1’s Biggest Weekend in Swansea he wore a lime-green Freddie Mercury leotard and led an onstage conga of his dancers, who seemed to be styled as drugged-up zombies. It felt like a long way from Mike Read and Bruno Brookes. “There was a point where I realised if you embody supreme confidence, you can get away with anything,” Alexander says. “It is quite a religious experience for me, to be on stage.”

Religion is a bit of a theme for Years & Years, whose other members are the keyboard player Emre Türkmen and the bassist Mikey Goldsworthy. Their first album was called Communion and their new one is entitled Palo Santo, after a mystical South American tree burnt as incense. Its literal translation, “holy wood”, joins the dots between spiritualism and smut (“It’s a Carry On album!” Alexander says with a giggle). So too does the recent single, Sanctify, partly inspired by a relationship with a straight-acting man, which refers to two very different things that one can do on one’s knees. “See?” Alexander says, turning to his publicist, who is sitting near by. “Ed gets it!”

He has always been into spiritualism and the occult, he says, albeit in a slightly sceptical way. “The first place I ever had a job was in this shop called Moonstones — it sold gemstones, pagan spellbooks and chocolate dildos.” He grew up loving fairytales and fantasy fiction: Lord of the Rings, The Magic Faraway Tree, Harry Potter. You can see why he might have wanted to escape to other worlds, such was the rotten time he sometimes had at school, where he was mocked and sometimes “bushed” for wearing eyeliner, nail varnish and choker necklaces.

Has being a posterboy for LGBTQ and anti-bullying issues become a burden? He gets Instagram messages from fans every day. “It doesn’t feel like a burden. I think it would be more of a burden to not acknowledge any of that. But I’ve had to learn the ways to cope with my own mental health along the way, and I feel like I’m in a good position now, but if you’re having a bad day and you’re suddenly having to talk about things that you experienced when you were 13 years old, it can feel a bit challenging.”

He’s talking about the break-up of his mother, who ran community craft groups, from his father, who worked at amusement parks, but, tellingly, dreamt of being a musician. After the split Alexander moved to Gloucestershire with his mother and brother; his father has only been in contact sporadically. Alexander has sometimes shied away from the subject because “I was trying to protect him, and I was, like, ‘Why am I still trying to protect someone who hasn’t been in my life for over a decade and who’s actually very difficult and caused a lot of pain to my family?’ ”

They hadn’t been in touch for seven years when his father broke the silence in wincing fashion, by tweeting him. Matters got worse when Alexander’s fans started replying to his dad, even trolling him. It sounds horrific. He has seen him once since then, last year. “It was quite triggering,” he says. “I just couldn’t deal with it at the time, it was too overwhelming.”

Social media can be a perilous place for him, especially deciding what to keep private. “I’ve always been fairly ‘Here’s everything!’ ” He’s also prone to “stalking someone that I fancy, and then getting upset because they like so-and-so’s picture and not mine”.

Yet the lure of Instagram can be irresistible. Take his appearance on The Graham Norton Show, when he met Rihanna, one of his heroes, and posted a picture of them backstage, in which he wears an expression of volcanic ecstasy. He was more nervous about meeting Ri-Ri than he was about singing on the show, he says, but she was lovely. “She was, like, ‘My fans love you.’ I feel like we’re destined to be friends.”

Or, perhaps, rivals. Palo Santo, with its mega-hooks, shimmering melodies and sumptuous production, is an album built to take on the superstar Americans at their own game. It was inspired by the R&B and pop that Alexander grew up on: Timberland, Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake and, before them, Prince and Michael Jackson.

He’s a better fit for music than he was for his first, slightly accidental career as an actor. “It just feels like people can express their identity easier as artists in the music industry.” Still, acting was where he initially made his mark, straight out of school, first in the film Summerhill and later playing a Bullingdon-style posho in The Riot Club, Herbert Pocket in David Nicholls’s TV adaptation of Great Expectations, and a stage role in Michael Grandage’s Peter and Alice, during which he befriended Judi Dench.

He was quite intimidated, but Dench turned out to be “very cheeky. One day she brought in biscuits that had dicks and balls on them; she was, like, ‘Do you want a cock biscuit?’ ” She has since narrated a short film to accompany Years & Years’s new album.

Acting has some happy associations for him, then, but “Hollywood is the worst culprit” when it comes to diversity, he says. “It’s just so far behind the times, it’s disgusting.” He even felt a subtle pressure not to reveal his sexuality on God Help the Girl, a low-budget British indie film directed by Stuart Murdoch of the band Belle & Sebastian, in which Alexander played a straight musician.

“It gave me a lot of anxiety. It was one of the reasons I wanted to stop acting. I definitely felt at the time it was something you had to be quiet about, because otherwise directors wouldn’t believe you could pull off the part.” That was nothing to do with Murdoch, he stresses. “I got on with Stuart really well, and I felt guilty because I never told him I was gay. I kind of tried to play up to the fact that I could actually be straight still, based on lies, even though everyone else knew I was gay.” During the shoot he met a man in a club. “After filming every day I’d just go straight to his house and spend the night with him. You just feel like you’re living a bit of a double life.”

I tell him my editor will tell me off if I don’t ask about his romantic status. “I’m single,” he replies with a smile. “Let everyone know, including your editor! Is he gay? It’s a she? Maybe she has gay friends. Yeah, I am happily single. It’s been like . . . almost two years. Not that I’ve been a nun in that time, I would like to stress.” Celebrity is double-sided in that regard: adulation on one hand, lack of anonymity on the other. “It obviously has positives,” he says with a smile, “but my sex life’s taken quite a beating.”

Don’t buy the mock self-pity — Alexander is doing just fine. There’s the stellar album and an arena tour in the autumn. Nor have his experiences put him off acting. “I feel like I could do something really, really fun and weird, like play an alien,” he says. “Or, you know, a goblin king!” From dressed-down diffidence to a budding Bowie in three years: he really has come a long way.

Palo Santo is released tomorrow on Polydor. Years & Years play the Roundhouse, London, July 10; Manchester Arena, July 14 and tour the UK from November

#olly alexander #article #the times #interview

[soap-brain]

rainy day cuddles for sunrises!culmets? or going through old boxes for the sunrises curlfriends :D

yessssss thank you!

Rainy Day Cuddles

     “If the rain doesn’t stop soon, this whole place will be under water,” Hugh says grimly. “The good news: we can only move deeper into this thing. Deeper as in lower. You know, where the water goes. Are you still as desperate to see this place?”

Paul sighs. “I don’t see how the rain is my fault.”

     “Sorry. I’m being an ass,” Hugh admits, sitting down next to Paul on the neoprene mat. “But I’m starving. You know, in a movie, I’d now be wondering what you taste like. Luckily for you, and unluckily for me, you don’t have meat on you.”

Paul smiles slightly, but still doesn’t move. He’s conserving energy big time, so he literally hasn’t moved for the past two days, since they ran out of food.

Hugh leans against him.

     “Good for you is also that you can’t feel faint from hunger. You know, the annoying thing about all this will be that if we get out of here, I’ll have lost my carefully cultivated muscles. Not that there’s anyone I could impress with them here, but... it’s a nice thought, you know? Getting off this rock and... you know, looking good enough that I can date someone immediately.”

     “Why would you want to date someone immediately? Shouldn’t you rather want to find someone who shares similar interests?”

     “Maybe I want to get laid.”

     “Why?”

     “’Cause it’s fun. ‘Cause it makes you feel alive. ‘Cause I haven’t gotten laid in ages. ‘Cause I’m missing that kind of human touch.”

That does make Paul turn towards him.

A tiny wave of rainwater splashes against the pedestal they’re sitting on. If the rain stays as bad, they might have to relocate during the night.

     “I could provide that for you. If it’s essential to your wellbeing.”

Hugh sighs and closes his eyes, getting more comfortable on Paul’s shoulder.

     “I don’t think so.”

     “Why not? I might not be able to download the required mannerisms, but I’m sure you could explain them to me.”

     “Exactly that’s why you couldn’t. It’s not ‘mannerisms’, Paul, it’s - it’s more of a want. Like... you want to please your partner, make them feel good. Those are the ‘mannerisms’ you need. And it doesn’t work if - it’s not a service, you know. Plus, right now? It would burn way too many calories, and I can’t afford that.”

     “Okay,” Paul replies.

And that’s that.

They do have to move the tent a bit further upwards later. It’s not far, just up one of the ramps, but they don’t come with a handrail, and Hugh stumbles while walking up. He needs food. 

     “How long can a human survive without food?” Paul asks once they’re settled down again and Hugh is snuggled up against him again. Not because Paul is warm - he made sure that he has practically no heat output - but at least Paul is soft and feels alive.

     “Hm. Depends. Couple weeks.”

     “We should’ve rationed better.”

     “Should’ve this, could’ve that. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

     “Do we still have a beacon?”

That’s an odd question, but Hugh feels a little too cotton-y to think about why it’s so odd.

     “Why?” he asks instead.

     “If I’m able to position one at the entrance, I might be able to go outside without losing sight of the monolith through the rain, because I’d be able to watch the beacon’s blips and navigate back that way. I might be able to find something to eat.”

     “Okay,” Hugh says.

Paul does just that the next morning (or evening, or noon. It’s hard to tell without their nuclear clocks working, but that’s just another bonus for having found shelter in the monolith. Sure, Paul was really happy to explore the place. Then a bit less happy when it turned out that the thing is practically useless, because as far as they know it’s just an empty building. Then even less happy when the rain that separated them from the rest of their group didn’t let up at all; even less happy when the rain started coming into the monolith.

Hugh spends the time Paul is away lying down and thinking of home. He’s not hungry anymore; he knows that that’s bad, but there isn’t much he can do about that, so why bother worrying about it? If Paul doesn’t find food, they’re screwed anyways. Home, however, is a nice thought.

He thinks about baby Hugh; about the way his mom looks at his dads, about Constanza’s postcards, about waking up to happy noise in the house, about suddenly bursting out into song together. About Camilla’s horse. About the little lavender wands his abuela would braid to let them play witch and wizard with as kids.

There are so many happy thoughts, or dreams, and it seems a bit dumb that the world doesn’t want all that. They could all just be nice to each other and there would be no need for war or pain or death, and everyone could get hugs.

The further Hugh slides off into dreamland, the less he feels the permeating wet cold of the monolith, and the more he feels his home again. Or his parents’ place. Hugh did have an apartment in San Francisco, after all. But his parents’ place was always... warm. Even in the winter when they had such huge problems with the heating constantly breaking, it had still been so warm.

He wakes up toasty. Really, really toasty, Sunday morning with French croissants and hot chocolate in bed-toasty. Someone is breathing shallowly into his ear, arms wrapped around Hugh’s torso, like a personalized big spoon for him.

Hugh is also wrapped in the sleeping bag, his shoes are removed, and there’s the smell of burned wood and grilled fish in the air.

Wait.

Grilled fish?

     “Good morning, Hugh.” Paul’s voice is very close Hugh’s ear, sending pleasant shivers down his spine when Paul’s breath fans over the ear’s shell. “You’re awake, so maybe you’d like some fish? I’m not much of a cook, but I managed to find some edibles, and I don’t think I charred them too much.”

They feast on grilled fish, edible plants and even some edible tree bark. Paul wraps an arm around Hugh when they snuggle up again later, and towards the end of the day the rain lets up almost completely and they can go out and find the group again.

also let’s put in some sunrise curlfriends here bc why not! they deserve more content anyways!

Going Through Old Boxes

Michael’s sneeze echoes through the apartment.

     “Bless you!” Tilly calls from the kitchen. “Did you open one of the boxes?”

     “I did, and I also accidentally disturbed the dust. Why do you keep all these things?”

Tilly finishes pouring the tea, keeping an ear out for her girlfriend. They’re on their last day of packing Tilly’s things up so she can move in with Michael into her pretty loft, and apparently Michael has opinions about what Tilly decides to keep.

Another small sneeze, and then a quiet “What the fuck?”.

     “What is it, Mikey?” she calls, picking up both their mugs and heading for the living room.

Michael is staring at an unshapely mass of pink fabric.

     “What is this?”

Tilly sets their mugs down before sitting next to Michael again, tucking her legs under herself.

     “Well, that’s my first handmade princess dress.”

Michael turns the dress, staring at it with a mixture of puzzlement and criticism.

      “How did you put it on?”

     “I’d show you, but I grew boobs since I made it, so...”

Michael’s face softens and she gives a small smirk.

     “I like them.”

     “I know.” Tilly pillows her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “I also grew a little bit in size, both vertically and horizontally, so I can’t wear this one anymore. There should be pictures though.”

Michael discards the dress carefully, then reaches into the box again, sniffling slightly. Her general dust allergy will not be happy if they keep going through the boxes.

     “Is that... you?”

Tilly peeks at the pictures Michael is holding.

     “Yeah.”

     “Oh noooooo, you were adorable!” Michael squeals. Actually, honest-to-god squeals.

It’s the cutest sound Tilly has heard her girlfriend make, ever.

     “Look at your hair! It’s so long, and so crazy! And your smile! You’re missing both your front teeth! Oh, god, you’re so cute! What are you... what happened in this one?”

     “Um... I got my hands on the box of strawberries our neighbor brought over, and after that there were no strawberries left and my dress was messed up.”

     “To be fair - it is more of a pink potato sack with holes than an actual dress. Can I keep this picture?”

     “Not if you insult my dress.” Tilly pokes Michael’s stomach and leans back.

     “Alright.” Michael turns towards her, cherry red lips curling into a smile. “Tilly, that’s a beautiful dress, and it shows you have great talent, and you were very cute wearing it. May I please keep this picture?”

     “You think we should throw the dress out?”

Michael purses her lips.

     “I mean... while I’m not saying that it’s not a work of art... um.”

     “... it’s a pink potato sack with holes that still smells of about twenty year old strawberries?”

     “Yeaaahh. Please tell me there’s something else other than princess dresses in the other -” She does a quick count. “- twelve boxes?”

     “Um... I think box number eight might also have old drawings? And that one over there has all my old diaries, that’s why it was so heavy. Oh - oh, I should show you -” She scoots over to that box, flipping it open and releasing another cloud of dust. “Where is it... the blue one, I think.”

It takes a while for Tilly to flip through the pages until she’s found what she’s looking for.

     “Okay,” she says and clears her throat. “Listen to this: ‘March 15th. I think the pretty girl from next door is a lesbian. Today Miss McAntosh explained to us what lesbians are; they’re like boys, except they’re girls. Or not. Sometimes they’re not girls, but they’re not boys, either, just something in between or something different. A lesbian is when you really like other girls. And want to kiss them a lot. I want to kiss a lot of girls very much, I think, only Mom says that that’s gross and gives you cooties. I looked up cooties, but it wasn’t on wikipedia, so maybe cooties don’t exist and kissing girls is actually so much fun mom is afraid I won’t do my homework anymore because kissing girls is more fun that than. Doesn’t really sound believable, but okay. To be honest, magnetic fields don’t sound believable either, and mom had been right about me not liking those, because they’re too complicated. Personally, I think girls are prettier than magnetic fields. I’m going to go out and play now.’ - what?”

Michael has her hand pressed against her mouth, convulsing in silent giggles. She shakes her head and motions for Tilly to go on.

     “’March 21st: Update on the girl thing: I kissed Elana. It was rather wet, and she put my tongue into her mouth. She said that’s what her dad does with her mom. Tongues are weird and kind of slimy, but I liked the kissing. We also held hands, and then we climbed a tree and did some more kissing. I like how long her hair is.’ Okay, hold on. Hold on.” Tilly discards the diary and searches for a different book, then leafs through that until she’s found the page. “This is three years later, and we had another sex ed class. ‘October 10th. I saw a breast. It reminded me a little bit of when I was kissing the neighbors’ daughter in the tree in the backyard a few years ago, because it made me feel something similar. Maybe I am a lesbian. Do you turn into a super lesbian when you’ve had enough girl crushes? Do I get a cape? Those are very important questions. Mom says not to be ridiculous, I’m definitely not a lesbian. I mean of course I’m not - dad cut my hair really short and ugly, so I definitely won’t find a girlfriend that way, and then I can’t be a lesbian. I hope it grows again, and fast! I also hope mom doesn’t start talking about the straightening again. Especially because lesbians aren’t straight. Ugh, maybe I’ll find a pretty punk girlfriend with red lips and we’ll run away in her cool car. I might have to learn more about cars though, so I can impress her. Maybe I could also impress her by sewing cool patches on her jacket. I should learn how to do that. Right now.’ And that concludes the thrilling story of my burgeoning lesbianism.” Tilly smacks the book closed. “Did you like it?”

Michael wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.

     “That’s just beautiful. You wanted to become a super lesbian by having enough girl crushes to... to do what?”

Tilly drops the diary back into the box and crawls close to Michael.

     “I don’t know. Maybe to kiss the prettiest girl?”

Michael’s lips taste of strawberries, and if tiny, eleven year old Tilly had only known how incredibly nice kissing could be.

:DDDDD

>>domesticity prompts

#culmets #curlfriends #discovery #shroom-writing #sad-is-happy-for-deep-people #asks

[ollyarchive]

Years & Years’s Olly Alexander: ‘Celebrity has positives, but my sex life’s taken quite a beating’

Olly Alexander is Britain’s most exciting new pop star, but the Years & Years singer has also become a poster boy for social change

Ed Potton

July 5 2018, 12:01am, The Times

“I’m glad you noticed!” says Olly Alexander with one of his impish smiles. “I’ve come a long way since then.” We’re talking about the difference between the first time I saw him sing with his band, Years & Years, and the strutting peacock that he has since become. In 2015, fresh from winning the BBC Sound Of … poll, Alexander had a mean falsetto and a clutch of killer synth-pop ditties (Shine, King), but he cut a diffident figure during his show at the Heaven nightclub, dressed down in a T-shirt and beanie.

The second time I saw him, a year later, he was rising on a hydraulic lift through the stage of a rapturous Wembley Arena, wearing a red tunic with silver shoulder pads, and garlanded with laser beams. Alexander’s ascent to serious, tabloid-baiting stardom continues. Years & Years have a dazzling album out this week and days before we meet he was on Graham Norton’s sofa, regaling Cate Blanchett and Sandra Bullock with the story of how Meteorite, the song he wrote for Bridget Jones’s Baby, was about “a big dick”. Diffident no longer.

“Looking back, it’s quite overwhelming,” says Alexander, 27, as he lunches on quinoa in a restaurant in King’s Cross, north London. He is slight and conspiratorial, with tiny safety pins through his ears, a ring through his nose and his cropped hair dyed scarlet. “At first you really don’t know what support from an audience is going to feel like. But when people started showing their support for me being honest and being a camp, gay frontman — I just never really expected it and it added so much fuel to my fire.” Olly Alexander with Emre Türkmen and Mikey Goldsworthy of Years & Years Olly Alexander with Emre Türkmen and Mikey Goldsworthy of Years & Years

Among the things he has eloquently spoken out on are LGBTQ rights (he presented a BBC Three documentary called Growing Up Gay), mental health (he extols the virtues of therapy, which he started pre-emptively, before he became famous) and bullying (at school in Gloucestershire he was regularly “bushed”: thrown into the bushes next to the assembly hall). He is far more vocal than he was at the start of his music career, when an industry person advised him not to talk about being gay. “She was, like, ‘Why do people need to know your sexuality?’ She wanted to protect me.”

Well, it turned out that he didn’t need protection, he needed confidence. That came with experience and a changing musical landscape in which artists as diverse as Janelle Monáe, Christine and the Queens, Frank Ocean and Perfume Genius felt able to be candid about their sexuality. “It’s quite astonishing,” Alexander says. “We’re seeing a lot more visible queer artists and visible gay people.”

Pop has been missing male stars with strong views, especially those with a sense of theatre; it’s all uber-polite George Ezra or anti-glamorous Ed Sheeran. “It has its place, having someone who’s not dressed up,” Alexander says, trying to be diplomatic. “But the thing I love most about pop music is the fantasy, the escapism. I had this moment when I realised I’m in the best place to engineer that for myself. I realised you could go as far as you want on stage.”

A few weeks ago at Radio 1’s Biggest Weekend in Swansea he wore a lime-green Freddie Mercury leotard and led an onstage conga of his dancers, who seemed to be styled as drugged-up zombies. It felt like a long way from Mike Read and Bruno Brookes. “There was a point where I realised if you embody supreme confidence, you can get away with anything,” Alexander says. “It is quite a religious experience for me, to be on stage.” With Hannah Murray and Emily Browning in God Help the Girl With Hannah Murray and Emily Browning in God Help the Girl

Religion is a bit of a theme for Years & Years, whose other members are the keyboard player Emre Türkmen and the bassist Mikey Goldsworthy. Their first album was called Communion and their new one is entitled Palo Santo, after a mystical South American tree burnt as incense. Its literal translation, “holy wood”, joins the dots between spiritualism and smut (“It’s a Carry On album!” Alexander says with a giggle). So too does the recent single, Sanctify, partly inspired by a relationship with a straight-acting man, which refers to two very different things that one can do on one’s knees. “See?” Alexander says, turning to his publicist, who is sitting near by. “Ed gets it!”

He has always been into spiritualism and the occult, he says, albeit in a slightly sceptical way. “The first place I ever had a job was in this shop called Moonstones — it sold gemstones, pagan spellbooks and chocolate dildos.” He grew up loving fairytales and fantasy fiction: Lord of the Rings, The Magic Faraway Tree, Harry Potter. You can see why he might have wanted to escape to other worlds, such was the rotten time he sometimes had at school, where he was mocked and sometimes “bushed” for wearing eyeliner, nail varnish and choker necklaces.

Has being a posterboy for LGBTQ and anti-bullying issues become a burden? He gets Instagram messages from fans every day. “It doesn’t feel like a burden. I think it would be more of a burden to not acknowledge any of that. But I’ve had to learn the ways to cope with my own mental health along the way, and I feel like I’m in a good position now, but if you’re having a bad day and you’re suddenly having to talk about things that you experienced when you were 13 years old, it can feel a bit challenging.” Olly Alexander: “It’s quite a religious experience for me to be on stage” Olly Alexander: “It’s quite a religious experience for me to be on stage”

He’s talking about the break-up of his mother, who ran community craft groups, from his father, who worked at amusement parks, but, tellingly, dreamt of being a musician. After the split Alexander moved to Gloucestershire with his mother and brother; his father has only been in contact sporadically. Alexander has sometimes shied away from the subject because “I was trying to protect him, and I was, like, ‘Why am I still trying to protect someone who hasn’t been in my life for over a decade and who’s actually very difficult and caused a lot of pain to my family?’ ”

They hadn’t been in touch for seven years when his father broke the silence in wincing fashion, by tweeting him. Matters got worse when Alexander’s fans started replying to his dad, even trolling him. It sounds horrific. He has seen him once since then, last year. “It was quite triggering,” he says. “I just couldn’t deal with it at the time, it was too overwhelming.”

Social media can be a perilous place for him, especially deciding what to keep private. “I’ve always been fairly ‘Here’s everything!’ ” He’s also prone to “stalking someone that I fancy, and then getting upset because they like so-and-so’s picture and not mine”.

Yet the lure of Instagram can be irresistible. Take his appearance on The Graham Norton Show, when he met Rihanna, one of his heroes, and posted a picture of them backstage, in which he wears an expression of volcanic ecstasy. He was more nervous about meeting Ri-Ri than he was about singing on the show, he says, but she was lovely. “She was, like, ‘My fans love you.’ I feel like we’re destined to be friends.”

Or, perhaps, rivals. Palo Santo, with its mega-hooks, shimmering melodies and sumptuous production, is an album built to take on the superstar Americans at their own game. It was inspired by the R&B and pop that Alexander grew up on: Timberland, Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake and, before them, Prince and Michael Jackson.

He’s a better fit for music than he was for his first, slightly accidental career as an actor. “It just feels like people can express their identity easier as artists in the music industry.” Still, acting was where he initially made his mark, straight out of school, first in the film Summerhill and later playing a Bullingdon-style posho in The Riot Club, Herbert Pocket in David Nicholls’s TV adaptation of Great Expectations, and a stage role in Michael Grandage’s Peter and Alice, during which he befriended Judi Dench.

He was quite intimidated, but Dench turned out to be “very cheeky. One day she brought in biscuits that had dicks and balls on them; she was, like, ‘Do you want a cock biscuit?’ ” She has since narrated a short film to accompany Years & Years’s new album.

Acting has some happy associations for him, then, but “Hollywood is the worst culprit” when it comes to diversity, he says. “It’s just so far behind the times, it’s disgusting.” He even felt a subtle pressure not to reveal his sexuality on God Help the Girl, a low-budget British indie film directed by Stuart Murdoch of the band Belle & Sebastian, in which Alexander played a straight musician.

“It gave me a lot of anxiety. It was one of the reasons I wanted to stop acting. I definitely felt at the time it was something you had to be quiet about, because otherwise directors wouldn’t believe you could pull off the part.” That was nothing to do with Murdoch, he stresses. “I got on with Stuart really well, and I felt guilty because I never told him I was gay. I kind of tried to play up to the fact that I could actually be straight still, based on lies, even though everyone else knew I was gay.” During the shoot he met a man in a club. “After filming every day I’d just go straight to his house and spend the night with him. You just feel like you’re living a bit of a double life.”

I tell him my editor will tell me off if I don’t ask about his romantic status. “I’m single,” he replies with a smile. “Let everyone know, including your editor! Is he gay? It’s a she? Maybe she has gay friends. Yeah, I am happily single. It’s been like … almost two years. Not that I’ve been a nun in that time, I would like to stress.” Celebrity is double-sided in that regard: adulation on one hand, lack of anonymity on the other. “It obviously has positives,” he says with a smile, “but my sex life’s taken quite a beating.”

Don’t buy the mock self-pity — Alexander is doing just fine. There’s the stellar album and an arena tour in the autumn. Nor have his experiences put him off acting. “I feel like I could do something really, really fun and weird, like play an alien,” he says. “Or, you know, a goblin king!” From dressed-down diffidence to a budding Bowie in three years: he really has come a long way.

Palo Santo is released tomorrow on Polydor. Years & Years play the Roundhouse, London, July 10; Manchester Arena, July 14 and tour the UK from November

#olly alexander #years & years #yearsandyears #interviews #articles

[ladylillycrawley]

TMNT “Ghost of a Chance” FF Chapter 25 review

Got another review in the books, YAY ME!! :3 Enjoy guys!

Credit of story: @suthnmeh & @violette-aner

Direct link to GoaC chpt. 25: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11258484/25/TMNT-A-Ghost-of-a-Chance

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-Ok, the chapter starting off with April’s day post ghost intervention? Yessh, talk about a rough… I did feel super bad for her when she talked about the bad events that happened throughout her day. Been there, done that girlfriend.

-Oh boy… The part where she accidentally left her homework and laptop at Donnie’s lab? Worst. Nightmare. Ever.

-Although, I did wonder why the heck Kirby sent angry text and missed calls when he knew she was staying at the lair. But then I remembered that since he’s been super antsy and anxious lately, so I guess it makes sense. 

-April worrying about Donnie from the night before: UGH protective April is my spirit animal right now!

-Casey’s entrance with all them bruises: can you say ‘typical teenage hockey boy’? 

-Casey bringing in alcohol to school… and then agrees to go to the library with April… Boi… I honest to goodness don’t know what to think anymore XD

-“’And then express-date. With ‘Moose’.” He wiggled the backpack again, the liquid contents sloshing quietly. April crossed her arms, and said squarely, ‘No Moose’.” – HAHAAAA yes! OMG I love how she keeps that lovable train wreck in line!

-That part where a piece of eraser got shot into her mouth made me shudder. Literally. That’s so gross.

-Confession.. Since reading this chapter, I actually used Casey’s “What’s your beef” comment… I learned my lesson afterwards. Never using that kind of comment in the heat of a discussion ever again.

-Damn Casey! That comment about April having to chose between normal life vs. kunoichi/psychic life? Low blow bro.

-Actually, I want to elaborate on that last point. So about April choosing between two totally different lives. Who the heck says she has to choose? Can’t she do what she said to Karai in chapter 2 and write out the chapters of her life on her own? Granted, she is only 17 and isn’t technically a legal, autonomous, adult in American laws yet, but still! Why force it? And for Casey to give her an ultimatum like that? Dude, if it was the other way around, I’m sure Casey would feel the same way that April’s feeling at the moment. Not cool. Though he is hurting, that was super uncalled for.

-OOOooooo…. That moment between April and Master Splinter nearly brought me to tears. I am super close to both of my parents and to see this side of Splinter was so sweet and touching. I love how, out of the very few adults present in her life, Splinter seems to be the only constant in her life. He may not be perfect and she does have her dad whom she loves, but I adore how Master Splinter tries to show her that he’ll be her sounding board when she’s ready. And if there’s one thing that April definitely needs in her life at this moment, it’s that.

-“You are Hamato. Whatever happens, know you can always count on your family’ - Oh my heaaaaaaaart!! SO! MANY! FEELS!

-“Michael, put that down!” – Pfft lol love that easter egg you guys threw in there!

-Ouch. Poor April. Getting dropping a showerhead and getting sprayed is no laughing matter. I’m a klutz by nature so I know the feeling.

-Oooooh April finding out about her laptop and then Donnie trying to make her feel better? Cuuuuuuuute!

-April hugging Donnie because of her gilt… I might as well just stop reading/reviewing just so I could read this section over and over again ‘cuz it makes me so happy. So sweet!

-OHMAGAWD then her smooshing her nose against his plastron bit nearly put me in a fangirl coma!

-I love how you guys made Mikey go from jokester bro to ‘no one messes with my unbiological sister’ to ‘lemme feed you’ mode in seconds. It just fits him no matter what TV series or fanfiction story he may be in.

-Sassy Donnie correcting April gives me life. Just saying. 

-“It is too much. I mean, two years ago I was just April, just your regular high-school nobody, and all of a sudden I’m this… Kraang McGuffin with superpowers who’s also a ninja wannabe. And I don’t know which version of me I like least, to be honest.” Ok… Let me stop there for a sec. First off, BRA-VO! That part right there, that’s me every freaking day. No joke, the first time I read this part, I swear I had to read it nearly four extra times because I was like, “I feel like I’m reading my own mind being played out on fanfiction… Weird”. Here’s the thing though, this is why I love April in this story. She’s playing multiple parts, working hard, and doing all of this to the point of it being unbearable, almost debilitating. And I get that. What saddens me a bit about this is that when she continues on to loosely explain herself to Donnie, it seems that she feels that she’s alone in the midst of it all. Which isn’t true, and I do hope that she both realizes it and that she’d heed Splinters advice about remembering that she can count on her family. No matter what. Ugh… such good stuff… Ok, back to the rest of the review!

-[Slow yet meaningful clapping] Thank you Donnie! Way to get that girl back to her right mind by telling her she can’t give up. Yes yes yes!!

-GAH I’m a puddle now… The part where Donnie allows her to look in his mind? And her response? The hand squeeze? Her admiring his hands??? My shipper heart is swelling big time. Bias I may be, these two will be the death of me and I’m ok with that TwT

-Lets be real though, Michelangelo secretly shipping Apritello is just stinking adorable. Like, adorable enough that it could melt both cold hearts and icecaps in my humble opinion.

-No no no no no no no no Raph… I get that you’re just trying to look out for your bro and BFF but… Nooooooo…

**Ok… That chapter had me in all different direction: sad for April, disgruntled about Casey, happy sobbing about Sensei’s words, giddy about Donnie and April lil moment, and peeved that Raph might do what I think he’s going to do… SO GOOD! Great chapter, great interactions, great everything! Nicely done and keep up the fantastic work! I should have the next few review’s up soon!

#Ghost of a Chance #GoaC #fanfiction #suthnmeh #review #tmnt 2012

[michaelgodbless]

Punk!Michael First Time Anxieties (Part 10)

Masterlist

Request

written by: Sam

Part 10 in our mini punk!michael series. Michael gets first time boyfriend anxieties

word count: 2k

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Mikey has a special way of knowing exactly how I’m feeling. Sometimes he doesn’t even have to look at me. He can tell from the slightest change in my voice, from the way I text him back, from the way my eyebrows raise and lower in the slightest way, he knows whatever I’m feeling, even when I try to hide it from him.

Mikey also has a special way of hiding his feelings from everyone else. I wouldn’t call him distant, but a good portion of his feelings usually aren’t divulged for fear of the people around him A) judging him, B) feeling bad for him, or C) being annoyed by him.

So, even when weeks had gone by in our relationship, and everything seemed to be going great, I was exceptionally confused by his sudden lack of communication, which was weird for ‘best friend’ Michael, nevermind ‘boyfriend’ Michael.

Driving up to my house after school, he turns off the engine and waits for me to get my stuff together. Pulling my bag over my shoulder and letting my hand linger on the door handle, I ask in a tiny voice, “So… do you want to come in?”

His eyes don’t meet mine, “Nah, babygirl, I have some uh, homework to do,” he chuckles.

I look at him confused, “and so do I, let’s do it together,” I say slowly. Helping Michael with homework was nothing new, but that’s when he even cared to do it.

“I mean, no, I have a party later with the guys anyway, so you know.” I didn’t know what to say and I was especially coming up short with reasons as to why the boy I thought loved me would all of a sudden decide he didn’t want to spend time with me anymore.

I stammered for a second before I blurted out, “I - can I join you?” I held my breath waiting for the answer. If he didn’t want to spend a quiet evening in, I’d just have to go out. I didn’t want him to push himself away from me.

He finally met my eyes with his beautiful confused ones. “Sure, love, I’ll pick you up at 8 then, ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you when I’m ready.” He helped me down from the passenger seat of his truck before kissing me on the forehead, hopping back in the drivers seat and speeding away towards his house.

After texting Michael to say I was ready, I heard a car pull up in my driveway, the sound unlike the usual drawl of Michael’s truck. I peered out my living room window to see Ashton’s car, with the curly haired boy in the driver’s seat, my blue-haired boyfriend sitting shotgun. I pulled my sweater over my palms, locking my door and walking briskly to the back seat, awkwardly clicking the seat belt and making eye contact with Ashton in the rearview mirror, my eyebrows furrowed anxiously, his kind and smiling.

“Hey girly, how are you doing?” He asked with the hint of a smile in his voice.

“Great,” I faked with a smile and an accidental rasp.

We drove for about 20 minutes, pulling up to a home I swore I’d been at before. Before I knew it, I was being led into the house, the sound of loud music and the smell of weed immediately overwhelming my senses. I held onto Michael’s hand as hard as I could, him trying to keep me as close to him as he could as he followed Ashton to the living room, where we were met with cheers and greetings from the rest of their friends. Ashton went through the living room to the kitchen to grab some drinks, Michael choosing to plop down on the only empty seat on the couch. I fiddled with my fingers for less than a second, unsure of what to do with myself before Michael lightly tugged me to sit across his lap.

Ashton came back a second later, a coke for himself and a beer for Michael. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted soda, but I grabbed you a water just to be safe,” Ashton chuckled, handing me the clear plastic bottle and I smiled and thanked him quietly as he took his seat on the arm of the couch next to us.

Michael was two beers in an hour later, nonchalantly drawing shapes on my thigh, his other arm slung over the back of the couch. I was half listening to some story Calum was going on about, mostly observing the behavior of my fellow teenagers in  the house. A bedroom door down the hallway would occasionally open and close, some people going in out, and a cloud of smoke could be seen wafting out. A crowd of people clustered in the kitchen and others sporadically placed around the living room, mostly in the center where furniture had been moved out of the way to make room to “dance.” I was brought back to the group by the sound of our friends laughter, but noticing Michael not joining in. He was biting his lip, seemingly deep in thought, and I placed my hand on his chest, bringing him back to Earth. He half smiled at me and clutched my hand in his, giving it a quick peck and putting it back down, taking a drink from his third bottle.

Another hour passed by quicker than I realized, more friends and friends-of-friends came and went, some saying a quick hello, some pulling up a folding chair and joining the conversation. One of Calum’s friends returned with a boy I didn’t recognize. “Guess who decided to show up?” Calum’s loud friend exclaimed, obviously a little drunk, clapping the shorter boy on the back. I’d gathered this boy was fairly new to the school, but he’d already found his group of friends, which was understandable once, very quickly, I could tell he was very friendly, outgoing, and funny. At first glance you’d think he’d fit in better with the football players, his short blonde hair and broad shoulders making him look like quite the athlete.

“Sonia, have you met Brandon?” Calum chirped, gesturing to me with the neck of his beer bottle.

“No, but aren’t you in Mr. Wagner’s English Literature class?” Brandon smiled at me and suddenly I realized I had seen him before, I blushed, totally realizing just then that we had a class together.

“Yeah, I am,” I smiled shyly, looking to him as he stretched out his right hand for me to shake.

“I’m in his class too,” Michael murmured from behind me, no one really noticing.

“Hey did you even understand that poem he told us to go over today?” We continued to chat about the assignment lightly, him mentioning his love for a few books I’d read before, our conversation unnoticed by the rest of the group. Michael interrupted, mumbling something about going to smoke, and I watched him walk down the hallway to join the kids in the fishbowled bedroom. Our attention turned toward whatever group discussion was going on.

Michael joined us a little while later, his eyes tinged pink. He took his spot on the couch, an hour later getting up to repeat this ritual, standing up to go smoke again. I’d grown bored of the party, but it didn’t seem to be ending any time soon, the house even more packed if it was earlier. A couple was making out (if you could even call it that, more like publicly humping each other) on an armchair across from the couch, the smell of alcohol almost becoming sickening to me. I mentioned to Ashton that I was going to go find the bathroom, passing the kitchen and the first floor bedrooms, looking around and climbing the staircase until finding the door with a piece of loose leaf paper taped to it with “Restroom” written on it in blue marker. I knocked lightly, getting no response, so I jiggled the old-looking knob, clicking the door open before hearing a gruff, “I said just a minute!” And seeing my boyfriend lunge for the door before realizing it was me.

“Oh, I’m sorry Mikey I didn’t hear you,” I blurted. His eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were tinged pink, but his face was wet like he’d just splashed water on it. In fact, the faucet was still running. He tugged me in roughly by the wrist, closing and locking the door behind me, turning to shut off the flowing water.

“Michael, what are you -” I questioned before his hands pushed my hips into the counter of the sink, pushing my hair to the side, his face getting close to mine.

He began to kiss me feverishly and quite forcefully, his hand pushing me into him almost painfully. I kissed him back at first, very confused at his sudden affectionate outburst, I mean, if you can even call this affection. I tried to say his name, being cut off several times by his mouth on mine.My hand went to his chest, pushing him gently, but he didn’t seem to get the hint until his lips trailed from my cheek down to my neck and I could briefly get a word in. “Michael, stop,” I edged out. His hands immediately let go of me.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

“I, what? I mean I do Michael, you just startled me, why are you so frantic?” I noticed my voice getting higher in pitch and I cleared my throat.

“So kiss me then. If you say you want to kiss me, then kiss me.” His hands went to both sides of my face and I genlty pried them off, “Not until you talk to me, what the hell is wrong with you? Maybe you shouldn’t mix alcohol and pot.”

He looked at me hurt, “No, it’s not that, I just…” He turned around, slowly hitting the far wall with an open palm. “Brandon is so much better for you.”

“Brandon? I don’t even know the guy,” I chuckled, confused.

“Well maybe you should. Why do you even want me? I-I’m not… I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend, I’m such shit at it.”

This time I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I thought… I thought you loved me.”

“No, babygirl, I do. More than I can even say. But I-I’m not going to be good enough for you, I’ll never be what you need.”

“Is this you breaking up with me? Do you not want to be with me?”

He stepped towards me, closing the gap between us. “I’d want nothing else but to be with you… I want to love you, and want to make you happy, but… will I make you happy, I mean?”

“Of course you make me happy, Michael.”

“I’ve never been a boyfriend, I-will I be shit at it?”

“Michael, you’ve been the best friend I could ever ask for. Nothing’s changed. You’re the best boyfriend because you’re you… you don’t have to try to be anything different.”

“I… you’re sure?” he looked like a big weight had been taken off of his shoulders.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I laughed.

He smiled the faintest smile. “Do you want to go home?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

He took my hand and led me to the door. “Michael,” I called, stopping him. “Is this why you’ve been…” I searched for the right word, “distant?”

He sighed, “yea, I’ve just… been anxious.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” I kissed his wrist, his hand still entwined with mine. ”Just don’t be a distant jerk like that. Talk to me.”

“I promise I will, angel.”

He led me down to the living room, where not long after we left, Ashton being the designated driver. The boys dropped me off at home, Michael kissing me goodnight on my front porch before hopping back in Ashton’s car to be dropped off at his own house.

Once I was in bed, after letting my mom know I was home, and saying goodnight, just before I fell asleep, Michael called me to say goodnight and that he loved me.

And of course I smiled the biggest smile, because I was in love, as sappy as that is, and he truly made me happy.

#michael clifford imagine #5sos fanfiction #5SOS imagine #michael clifford fanfic #punk!michael au #Michael Clifford au #5SOS au #punk!5sos

[5saucefanfic]

We Don't Talk Anymore - 4/4

You all know how I feel about posting on mobile but I haven't been feeling well and my laptop is upstairs so mobile's just gonna have to do for right now... Ashton: It had been over a year since she’d last heard anything from Ashton Irwin. When the awful spilt had happened with the infamous drummer, she made sure to up and leave Australia and cut out any form of communication he could possibly have with her from changing her number to blocking him on every form of social media. It took a bit to adjust to the new life style and season changes, up and moving from warm and sunny Sydney to always cloudy London town, but she was adjusting, for someone that had left all her family and friends behind that is. Y/n was making her way down Oxford street in a hurry, coffee in hand since she was already late to meet this blind date Stasha had set her up on. It was her way of ‘helping’ the girl get over her obnoxious feelings for the drummer that she never could seem to get over. She took a quick glance at her phone noting the time and how she was much later than she should’ve been, mostly due to Stasha once again sticking her nose where it shouldn’t have been. She looked up in time to see a man walking out of the Cumberland, stopping short almost avoiding her, but almost wasn’t good enough because in an attempt to save her beloved white chocolate mocha from starbucks, she spilled it all over the blonde in front of her. “Christ,” he hissed pulling the shirt from his chest so it wouldn’t burn his skin, y/n looking up at the sound of the familiar ‘Straya voice meeting the bright blue orbs that belonged to Luke Hemmings. “Oh no…” she mumbled getting an awful feeling inside when he finally recognized the girl in front of him. “I...y/n? Is that you?” he asked furrowing his brows together as she looked away from him towards the door quickly catching a climbs of the brown mop she knew belonged to Ashton making its way through the lobby of the hotel. “I need to go, Luke,” she said trying to walk by the 6’4 penguin, only to be stopped by his wingspan crushing her in a tight hug. “Or not.” “We missed you so much!” he said excited, completely oblivious to the fact that his best mate, her ex boyfriend, was making his way through the doors to the lobby looking at him confused as he crushed a random girl to death. “Luke mate, I don’t think the girl can breathe,” Ashton teased as he watched Luke let her go, his expression changed when he caught a glimpse of her side profile, heartbeat quickening as his stomach dropped completely. “Y/n…? W-what….how long have you been in London?” “Long enough,” she mumbled looking at him for a moment seeing the heartbreak in his brown eyes killing her slowly as she wanted to reach out and make the hurt go away. But who would do that for her? “I...I’ve been trying to call you...we really need to talk,” he said reaching out grabbing her hand. “It’s important.” “I’m late for something, Ashton...I can’t just stop my life to accommodate you,” she said throwing the jab he knew was coming as he let go of her frowning more, if possible. “It was nice seeing you,” she mumbled starting her walk once again as he sighed. “If you change your mind...my number hasn’t changed,” he said watching her form walk away without any response. “I fucked up…” Calum: Magazines, radio ads, tv commercials...she just couldn't escape him, and after ten years of friendship and three years of a relationship, she didn't want to escape Calum, but she wasn't really given a choice. Not when he up and left her for his opening act, not even two weeks after the devastating split. And what made it worse was the three month old girl cradled in her arms nearly the spitting image of her father. “Bella,” y/n sang as she rocked the little girl from side to side trying to keep her calm as she prepared a bottle, her boobs sore and tender from pumping the night before not wanting to even think about the little mouth latched onto her trying to feed. “You get to see Grammy today while mummy works on a few things. Isn't that exciting?” She may not have told Calum about the small inconvenience to his life, but she sure as hell wasn't going to keep her from the rest of his family, who still couldn't understand why he would throw away one of the best relationships he'd ever had for a girl that couldn't even compete with his ex. Joy loved having Bella around, even agreeing to watch the girl every Tuesday and Thursday regularly while y/n worked to make an honest living. She slept most of the ride over, and by most, she fell asleep just as they pulled into the drive of the Hood household. The good thing about Joy was she was always prepared when it came to watching Bella having toys and spare diapers around, but y/n had extras just in case. “Hi joy,” she said walking into the house knowing it was unlocked just like it was every Tuesday, setting the diaper bag on the floor right by the door as she kicked it closed behind her not noticing the familiar hair that belonged to her ex and his girlfriend seated on the couch, their forms just out of her line of vision, automatically ready to walk to the kitchen where Joy usually was. “She just ate so she should be fine for a bit. I made a couple of bottles that are in the diaper bag, and there's-,” “What the fuck?” Calum asked startling her as she nearly dropped the carrier, head turning to see him standing from the couch. “What the hell’s going on?” “Calum quiet down. She's asleep,” joy scolded taking the carrier from y/n. “How long do you need me to keep her?” “Um...I have the training thing and I really need to go shopping so it shouldn't be too long, but a nap couldn't hurt,” y/n said trying to ignore that Calum was right there near her for the first time in a year. “About four?” “How about five and stay for dinner?” Joy asked not really giving her a choice, y/n nodding before quickly leaving the house without so much as another word spoken before nearly breaking down in the car. “Mom...whose kid is that?” Luke: “Oh my god….oh. My. god…” y/n mumbled as she looked at the name at the top of her snapchat lost its bold pink lettering showing that he had opened the picture. “Oh my fucking god” she groaned laying back on her bed tugging at her hair. Stressed was an understatement. She was full blown freaking out and there was nothing she could do to fix it. Sending nudes wasn’t something she had really ever done before, but when you’re lonely and the guy you like’s been asking for them, you just kind of decide it’s a great idea, even if you know it shouldn’t be done. And then... you accidentally send them to the wrong person. Her phone started vibrating repeatedly, and she didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know it was Luke calling her about the risque photo now a distant memory to them both. The only thing saving her is the fact he was halfway around the world in the middle of a tour, so there was no way he’d come knocking on her door anytime soon giving her time to let this blow over before she saw him again. In three months Her phone started vibrating again, this time indicating the slue of texts coming in one by one. Answer the phone. We need to talk y/n Is everything okay back home? She sighed leaving his messages on read before turning her phone off hiding it in the drawer in her nightstand. It’s bad enough she just sent these personal pictures to someone they weren’t intended for...but of all people, it just had to be her best friend and crush. “Just….just ignore him y/n...he’ll just forget about it and you two can pretend this never happened…” she mumbled to herself as she closed her eyes sighing once again. Michael: “I haven’t seen Michael around lately,” y/n’s older brother stated as he tuned the strings on his guitar. “Are you two fighting?” “Not exactly,” she mumbled trying not to think of the last time she had seen him...the two of them naked, drunk, in Calum’s bed. His face buried in her neck a he fucked her slowly hitting every spot perfectly as she moaned his name, tugging on his blonde hair in pleasure. She knew the way he had taken his time with her it wasn’t just sex to him...and that scared her a hell of a lot more than it should’ve. She tried to shake the thought out of her head, reminding herself she’s the one putting distance between her and Michael, starting when she left him lying there without saying goodbye, ignoring his texts and calls for the week right after, and purposely missing out on hanging with him and the guys. “It’s not like you two to avoid each other...what happened?” he asked knowing it had to be serious, because even during a fight, he would still show up on their doorstep, the two going upstairs to argue before finally making up. “We had sex and now it’s awkward,” she explained sighing softly, her brother chuckling slightly at how she tried to play it off. “It’s not fucking funny.” “It only took you two three years to finally get together. So, why is it awkward? Was he bad or something?” She shook her head rolling her eyes at him. “No...it was great...but he’s my best friend and you don’t fuck your best friend...that’s not supposed to happen.” “Sis...we all know that you and Michael have a thing for each other so get over yourself,” he huffed strumming the his guitar as the doorbell rang, y/n jumping up from her place on the couch opening the door to reveal the blond standing at her door, snapback turned on his head as he stood there nervous as hell. “Mikey...hey…”

#5 seconds of summer preference #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos preference #ashton irwin #ashton irwin preference #ashton irwin imagine #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings preference #michael clifford #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford preference #calum hood #calum hood preference #calum hood imagine

[hrtiu]

The Return

Just watched Loki today and it’s got my feeling nostalgic for the 100k Loki x OC fic I wrote between Infinity War and Endgame 😌 Anyway this definitely doesn’t fit on the sacred timeline but it was fun to write! Here’s the first chapter in case anyone is interested.

Six months after half of humanity disappeared in what later came to be known as “The Snap,” the victims of that bizarre event suddenly reappeared. It happened just as the world was finally beginning to right itself from that traumatic event—just as people began to accept that those who were missing were truly gone. Not that anyone could ever truly recover from something like that. Families torn in half, children lost, friends, colleagues, regular faces about town. Half the world’s heads of states, half of its business executives, half of its doctors, half of its children, half of its everything—all gone. The world would never be the same, but it had finally begun to reach some kind of functioning state again when just as inexplicably as they left the earth, all of the missing people returned.

The hospital was very busy that day. Thankfully, people reappeared in mostly sensible places. Nobody materialized thousands of feet in the air, or directly in front of oncoming traffic, or anything like that. Still, the reappearances were abrupt and disorienting, and sometimes led to mishaps directly afterwards. One way or another, a decent number of the returned ended up in the hospital, where nurses like Alice Wakefield helped them get sorted out.

For Alice that day had been filled with taking peoples’ names and information, trying to find empty beds or chairs, contacting family members, and sorting out the people who actually needed urgent medical attention from those who were just looking for a place to regroup. For several weeks the hospital was in chaos, having accidentally become the primary meeting place for families seeking out their missing loved ones.

Some people were ready to get back into the swing of things just as soon as they rematerialized. Esther Diaz, another nurse and Alice’s supervisor, headed right back to the hospital the same day she returned, the saintly woman recognizing immediately that the hospital would be overburdened. Other people took longer to readjust. Whatever had happened to them had been harrowing, and some patients wouldn’t tell the nurses their personal information, or couldn’t even bring themselves to speak, for days after the event.

Michael was one of those people who took longer to recover. Michael probably wasn’t his real name, but Alice called him that because his slicked-back dark hair reminded her of Michael Corleone, and the name stuck. From the time a paramedic team brought him into the hospital, Michael hadn’t spoken a single word, to anybody. And while other patients gradually opened up or were found by their families, Michael stayed in his hospital room, silent and haunted.

Two months after The Return, the hospital had mostly returned to normal. That is to say, most of the people who had disappeared during The Snap had now found their way back to their homes. Obviously no one on earth was quite the same as they were pre-Snap. Alice made her rounds, and for the first time in weeks, the majority of her patients were people brought in for routine medical assistance. She helped with some stitches, a bad flu, a broken leg, and one small child who had accidentally stapled their finger before she went to check on Michael.

“Good morning, Mikey, how’s it going?” Alice said, using her best chipper nurse voice. He didn’t respond, of course.

Alice walked over to his bedside and checked his chart. Everything seemed normal. She turned her head over towards Mike and sighed. He looked just like he always did: wan and tired, his sunken features highlighting his high cheekbones. His eyes were open, but did not focus on anything. His stringy, shoulder-length black hair was cut in a style that needed attention to look good, and he certainly hadn’t put any effort into maintaining it. In a spurt of dark humor, Alice thought to herself that he rather looked like a vampire, or perhaps a well-preserved zombie.

“Let’s go for a walk, huh?” she said, moving to the other side of the bed and pulling the covers back. With a little encouragement, he moved his long legs off the bed and set his feet on the floor. Alice put her shoulder under his arm, and helped him up. Michael’s responsiveness to instructions and physical queues was about the limit of his interactions, but at least it meant he was relatively easy to move around.

Alice led Michael out of his room and into the hallway, where they often did laps around the ward to help Michael get a little bit of activity into his day. Today, though, Alice led him outside of the ward to a terrace on the third floor, where they could get some sunshine and privacy. It was a lovely spring day, and some of the trees on the hospital grounds below had already started flowering. Alice made sure Michael was steady on his feet before moving out from under his shoulder and standing in front of him.

“Michael,” she said, and his eyes, which had been staring off into the distance, flicked towards her. That was a good sign.

“Now, I know Michael probably isn’t your real name, unless I got really lucky with my nickname. Do you want to tell me your real name?” Alice said.

He just kept staring, his thin lips showing no sign of movement.

“It would be really helpful for us to know your name, Michael. I feel bad using this fake name all the time.”

More silence. His light blue eyes seemed to bore into hers, and despite the hospital gown he somehow managed to exude an aura of cool authority. It was a little intimidating, to be honest.

“What about family? Do you have any family? Anyone we can let know you’re here?”

At that, the corner of his mouth twitched. At least, Alice thought it did—it had been the tiniest of movements. Still, it was the most anybody had gotten out of him in months.

“Yeah? You must have some family. Maybe nearby? How about… How about you write down their names?” she said, pulling a notepad and pen out of her scrubs, “Or an address? Or phone number?”

She held the notepad and pen out to Michael, but he made no motion to grab them. His eyes didn’t even focus on them. His pale blue eyes continued to look at her, until they gradually started to slide away again. She was losing him.

Alice took him by the hand and led him over to a bench on the far side of the terrace. She sat down next to him, then angled herself so she could face him.

“Look, Michael. You’ve been here for two months already. Physically, you’re fine. As a hospital, there’s not much more we can do for you here. Because of the… event, we’ve been allowing people to stay here longer than usual, but we can’t keep you here indefinitely. My superiors said they will have to discharge you by the end of the week,” Alice said, willing him to understand his predicament.

Michael looked at her for a long moment, then turned his head back towards the hospital grounds.

“If you don’t want to talk, you can just nod yes or no, how about that?” Alice said, hearing the desperation build in her voice. She had tried all of these tactics—pen and paper, nodding and shaking, etc—before, but she refused to give up. She did not want to imagine what would happen to Michael if he were left on his own.

“Do you remember your name?” she asked. She waited a generous amount of time for him to shake or nod his head, but he kept looking straight forward.

“Do you have family? ...Do you know where you’re from? ...We’re in New York right now, do you know where that is?”

Nothing. Defeated, Alice hung her head and she forced the water she could already feel building behind her eyes to halt, absolutely refusing to cry. She knew the tears weren’t just about her current predicament. Everyone had been pushed to their emotional limits lately, and it wasn’t uncommon for people in the hospital to break down. In general, people were understanding of these kinds of breakdowns. What did you expect when half of the world suddenly went missing? Still, Alice hadn’t lost as much as most people, and she didn’t want Michael to see her frustration.

Alice decided to focus on something productive instead of the roadblocks. She wracked her brain for any clues they might have as to Michael’s identity.

When he’d arrived at the hospital, he’d been wearing an odd dark blue leather jacket of sorts, with matching pants. The shoulders and arms of the jacket were padded, and Alice figured they were probably for riding a motorcycle, although he hadn’t had a helmet with him. He’d also had a yellow-blue blanket. It almost looked like a cape, but Alice figured it couldn’t possibly have been a cape, unless he’d just escaped from a movie set or convention. Other than the jacket, pants, blanket, and a pair of shiny black boots, he’d had nothing. No wallet, no cellphone, no money, no form of identification. Perhaps he’d been a courier, perhaps he’d been a professional racer, perhaps he’d just owned a motorcycle as a hobby. There was no way of knowing, and virtually no other clues. He looked like he might be in his mid-thirties, but he also had the kind of face that could be a lot older, so Alice didn’t even have a good sense of his age. He was a mystery that refused to be solved.

Michael waited as she stewed, his features betraying no impatience or frustration or any emotion at all. Eventually, they stood and walked around the terrace a little more before Alice took Michael back to his room. Esther caught her eye as she helped him into his room.

“Any luck?” Esther asked.

Alice just shook her head, and Esther raised her eyebrows with a sad half-smile. They were both worried about their mystery patient. It wasn’t uncommon for homeless people to end up in the hospital, and it was always difficult discharging them knowing they had no place to go, but somehow this felt different. Michael had been disintegrated, then brought back to life, and it seemed no one cared.

Keep Reading

#loki #fanfic #loki x oc #i wrote this between infinity war and endgame #so it obviously doesn't fit into established canon #if you're looking for a long loki redemption arc with romance this is it #i wrote this like two years ago so my writing now is better #but i think it's still pretty good

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/liev-schrieber-snl-sketches-ranked-dan-crenshaws-sick-pete-davidson-burn-robert-de-niros-epic-return/

Liev Schrieber 'SNL' Sketches Ranked: Dan Crenshaw's Sick Pete Davidson Burn, Robert De Niro's Epic Return

Pete Davidson put his foot in his mouth with a bad joke about Congressional candidate Dan Crenshaw’s eye patch last week on “Saturday Night Live,” so Crenshaw came back this week to get his revenge and did so in epic fashion.

As for the actual host, Liev Schreiber is not known as a funny man, as he readily admitted in his monologue, so most of the jokes were done around him and with him playing it very straight. And to his credit, he does that very well. The same goes for Robert De Niro, who dropped by as Robert Mueller again in a surprise cameo.

And for a guy known for very serious work, like “Ray Donovan,” Liev did manage to bring plenty of laughs to a mostly successful show. One sketch later in the night was so stupidly hilarious that almost no one involved in it could keep a straight face, and Liev lost it with Kate McKinnon in another.

The audience loves it when cast-members break, but these weren’t breaks in a way that derailed either sketch.

Elsewhere and as expected, “SNL” tackled the firing of Jeff Sessions, allowing Kate one more chance to shine, as well as the White House intern who became embroiled in the middle of the Jim Acosta scandal after his credentials were revoked and Sarah Huckabee Sanders released doctored footage of his exchange with the intern as evidence to justify the decision.

As usual, we’re ranking all the sketches from worst to first, including the Cold Open and the regular “Weekend Update” segments. We’ll skip the musical guests, because they’re not usually funny – unless Ashlee Simpson shows up. We wrap up with a look at the cast-member who had the strongest week.

MONOLOGUE – Liev Schreiber

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Liev Schreiber came out with a monologue about how he is not particularly known for being funny, which he thinks is great because it’s all about “managing expectations.” He also appeared to be very nervous, stumbling over several lines along the way. Or maybe it’s because, as he pointed out, he said more words in this monologue than in the entire fifth season of “Ray Donovan.” So don’t fault this sketch for sitting at the bottom as it wasn’t supposed to be funny. It was to manage expectations and praise the more than 100 million people who voted in a midterm election.

The Poddys

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So this was a weird premise, a podcast awards show celebrating the most jarring transition into an advertisement and white women who are where they don’t belong. Liev Schreiber had fun as Michael Barbaro, stammering and stuttering his way through the nominees alongside Cecily Strong’s Sarah Koenig before Alex Moffat came out and owned an impression of Marc Maron. And they did nominees, shots to the audience and acceptance speeches, so the commitment to the premise was all in. Oh, and did we mention this was weird. Not even sure if it was funny, but man was it weird.

Outside the Women’s Bathroom

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Another weird sketch, this one featured Liev Schreiber filming a pilot for a talk show outside a women’s bathroom. It was mostly cringe humor, save for when Leslie Jones walked out and stared him down. She didn’t even have to save a word. While Liev messed up his lines a few times, it’s easy enough to pretend it was part of the character … but we know it wasn’t. For the most part, none of this ultimately came together as a successful sketch, but it did have a few memorable moments and funny bits, including Heidi Gardner as his poor date, abandoned at the table so he could film. But yeah, odd stuff.

Paranormal Experience

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We’ve seen this countless times, but it’s always worth seeing what ridiculous things Kate McKinnon’s trashy character had to endure, this time as it relates to ghosts. She compared Cecily Strong and Liev Schreiber’s stories to “Ghost” while hers was more “Beetlejuice.” And it was every bit as stupid and awful as we predicted. Oh, and she totally found a way to harass the guest, grinding her bottom on Liev’s chest as he tried to hide his laughter. At some point, these are going to stop being so funny, but so long as Kate keeps coming up with new rhyming ways to describe her frontside and backside, we’ll be there … a bit uncomfortable, but there.

Unity Song

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In a country divided, the cast came together to unite under all the things they dislike together. Because if there’s one thing modern Americans are good at, it’s bitching and complaining. As for the list, it includes the words “moist” and “crotch,” airplane pilots who say too much when there’s nothing going on and nothing when there’s too much going on and the damned chip reader sound. So yeah, they pretty much nailed this one. And you know what? We do feel better.

Booty Kings

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Future returned for this one, joining Chris Redd and Kenan Thompson as the Booty Kings with Uncle Butt (Pete Davidson) and Lil Wayne. It’s a typical hip-hop song about dat booty, but it’s also about consent and Time’s Up. What a bizarre combination, but with sharp writing it had wit and heart. We love the women in the club (Ego Nwodim and Melissa Villasenor) stunned that the guys are respecting their boundaries. At the same time, it’s sad that this was so funny because it’s so unexpected that guys can be decent in this scenario. We still laughed, though.

COLD OPEN – Jeff Sessions

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It was an inevitable as sunset, but still appropriate that Kate McKinnon got to say farewell to her brilliant take on Jeff Sessions in the cold open. “Goodbye trusty Bible,” she said as packing up her awful. “I justified a lot of bad things with this book.” As he packed, he was visited by Sarah Huckabee Sanders (Aidy Bryant), Mike Pence (Beck Bennett), and even Eric (Alex Moffat) and Don Jr. (Mikey Day). In a closing surprise, Robert Mueller (Robert De Niro) dropped by for a final farewell. The whole thing was more of a bizarrely touching tribute to her performance, with plenty of possum jokes and just brilliance from McKinnon for what’s hopefully not the last time.

Weekend Update

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First up, Colin Jost and Michael Che broke down the midterms, with Jost quickly tempering the left’s enthusiasm by reminding them Trump still control everything except the House, including the media, space, time and our ability to perceive reality. Che gave it up to Stacy Abrams taking on a white man in Georgia in a runoff election where he’s also in charge of the election. “That’d be like taking on LeBron [James] at home where he’s also the ref. It’s an uphill battle to say the least.”

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And then, in a brilliant little parody, Cecily Strong showed up as the White House intern who tried to take Jim Acosta’s mic and she proved just as disruptive here. And then they doubled down on the intern story with their own doctored video in response to the one Sarah Huckabee Sanders showed to justify revoking Acosta’s press credentials. We think this one is more believable.

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The guys then moved on to other topics, with their won funny reason Justice Ginsburg broke three ribs, and calling new acting Attorney General Michael Whitaker a Michael Chiklis (“The Shield”) impersonator.

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Dan Crenshaw dropped by “Weekend Update” to confront Pete Davidson directly after last week’s poorly-received joke comparing Crenshaw to a pirate in a porno. And boy, he didn’t have to say anything to shade Pete in the most epic way possible. It’s all in the ringtone. Damn!

House Hunters

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Liev Schreiber and Leslie Jones were the couple trying to decide between all the houses they’d looked at and if you love how ridiculous this show is but wish it were even more ridiculous, this is the sketch for you. We loved the gas stove in the middle of the bed, and the fenced in backyard for Liev’s sister to run around in. Oh, and did he mention his man cave? He definitely wants his man cave. They absolutely nailed it with this one. Now the actual show will just be a letdown.

Brotherly Love

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Beck Bennett and Kyle Mooney portrayed two grade-school brothers struggling to impress the neighbors. Let’s see, Liev Schrieber was their father who kept a garden hose in the house to hose them down when they got too rowdy and that was always. Beck and Kyle were so into these roles that the rest of the cast couldn’t even keep it together as their antics got more over-the-top and stupid.

Good Day Denver

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Reporter Cecily Strong accidentally referred to Mikey Day and Alex Moffat as the “incest” twins rather than the “invest” twins. That’s the catalyst for this whole thing, but anything that gives us the great comedic chemistry of Day and Moffat together is worth it. Everything they said was double entendres and really creepy with the graphic “Incest Twins” below them in this news segment parody. And they went pretty far down this particular rabbit hole and every bit of it worked. Clever writing, top-notch commitment from everyone equals a disturbingly funny sketch.

PLAYER OF THE WEEK

While Mikey Day, Kyle Mooney and Beck Bennett turned in some amazing work it came down to veterans Kate McKinnon and Cecily Strong this week. McKinnon treated us to another brilliant Jeff Sessions and her ghost story was both terrifying and– well, it was just terrifying.

But we’re going to have to give the edge to Cecily Strong, who pantomimed beautifully as the White House intern, and kept things moving during the “incest” sketch as well as embodying a wholly different vibe with her ghost story, as well as anchoring the “Unity” song and mostly keeping it straight in the brothers sketch.

I will take arguments for Kate, though, as this was easily one of the tightest battles of the season and she had two very strong sketch appearances on a more balanced night across the cast.

“Saturday Night Live” returns next week with host Steve Carell and musical guest Ella Mai at 11:35 p.m. et on NBC.

Got a story or a tip for us? Email TooFab editors at [email protected].

View Photos Getty All The Barely-There Looks From the 2018 Victoria’s Secret After Party

Source: http://toofab.com/2018/11/11/saturday-night-live-liev-schrieber-snl-dan-crenshaw-davidson-robert-de-niro-sessions-acosta/