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#michael guerin

Still working this out but here’s what I’ve got so far! I’m working on a series where I write Malex based on breakup songs. Don’t worry, they get happy endings! The first in the series was drivers license. This one is based on champagne problems by Taylor Swift.

“What do you mean, ‘no?’” Michael finally said, the diamond glistening obscenely into the charged silence, his lowered knee digging painfully into the ground.

Alex looked surprised at his own answer, mouth agape as if the word had escaped from a deeper consciousness. A darker one.

“I can’t…I can’t do this right now,” he managed to say.

Michael stood up from his knees defeatedly, limbs creaking under the weight of something other than age.

“Can we at least talk about this, Alex?” It came out a little more desperately than he had liked.

“No, I just…I just need to go.” Alex strode out of the room quickly with the front door swinging wildly behind him. The crunch of the tires fading away signaled his official exit. Michael’s head dropped of its own accord, and he brought a hand to his face as if to stem the ugly emotions.

It was then that Isobel slowly crawled out from behind the couch on all fours, clutching a bottle of Dom Perignon and looking up at Michael with a sheepish expression. He tried to respond with a look of irritation but couldn’t hide the hurt in his eyes.


He, too, was out the door before he could hear the end of whatever she was going to say. And it was probably for the best, because for once, Isobel was at a loss for words.

Michael didn’t really think much of the Chevy at first. It was the cheapest thing he could find at the time, a nearly lost cause that he had barely scraped by to get. It served its purpose by being purely functional, for getting from point A to point B, and later he also realized it made a better home than his actual house. But it was Alex who had warmed up its insides, imbued it with a sense of meaning, and gave it some emotional resonance.

Now it was a holding cell of his own making.

Because he wasn’t sure what would be worse, the bustle and rancor of the Wild Pony on a Saturday night just a week before Christmas, perhaps just loud enough to drown out the noise inside, or the deafening silence of the desert stretched out before him, rendering his aloneness in sharp relief.

He opened his wallet to see how many shots of well whiskey he could spare, only to be met with the picture. The fucking picture. He’d seen it so many times, just two kids, two guitars, too young and dumb to know what was coming for them. It never failed to strike him straight in the heart. For a long time, that feeling had just been one of enduring pain, but more recently it had been an overwhelming sense of love that filled in the cracks that history had bore.

There were just enough dollars in there that he chose the bar, and immediately it was the wrong choice. He had spent enough time in his indecisive state that Isobel had beaten him there, lingering outside the entrance in couture like a, well, alien.

“How did you know I was here?” Michael asked with a sigh when he approached her.

“You’re…predictable,” Isobel said, trying her best to curb her usual sarcasm with him. “And no, I didn’t read your mind.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at the ground, the gears in his brain at a standstill.

“You sure you want to go in there?” She asked softly.

He looked up at her and tilted his head sadly. “I don’t know, Iz.”

Her arms swallowed him in a fierce embrace. “You guys will figure it out.”

“I just don’t get it. We were doing so good,” he said, words muffled in her shoulder.

“No matter what happens, you’ll always have me,” Isobel said as she released him.

“I know.”

He didn’t want to say it, and he felt selfish and ungrateful for thinking it. But without Alex, it would never be enough.

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(to round off the meme posts) pool of tears reaction for when you can’t be with your cosmic soulmate because ~character development 😭

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               Alex had had a reputation when they were teenagers. Michael had heard more than a few mutterings about the emo kid with the skull-and-crossbones ring and the black eyeliner.

               “Don’t look at him,” girls had frantically whispered to their friends.

               “He’s so cute. Too bad he’s one of those.”

               Michael had wondered what ‘one of those’ was supposed to mean, but less-than-subtle stupid jokes from Kyle Valenti and his friends had told him everything he’d needed to know. Alex had been dark and angry and gay, which had made him a source of gossip, which had made him even more dark and angry.

               Michael had never had much of an opinion on Alex himself. The guy had looked so serious all the time, trouble etched in the tension of his shoulders, his straight spine, his permanent frown, as if he’d never thought anyone was worth his time – that Michael had known to stay away on his own. He’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime, he hadn’t wanted any more from some probably spoiled kid.

               It had been one afternoon though, when the last bell had rung and most of the students had left for the day, that Michael had discovered the truth. He’d heard guitar music coming from the music room, the door opened ajar. But there had been something else. Someone had been singing.

               Michael had slowed, and peeked in, curiosity getting the better of him. He had been shocked when he’d seen that the emo kid who he’d rarely heard speak was now playing a guitar and singing a song Michael had never heard before.

               But he had, in a way, known it. Alex’s words had spoken of masks, of lies that hid the ugly truth. The perfect veneer of a lovely, happy family, and being the furthest thing from it. Of being unable to tell anyone because who would ever understand? Who would ever listen?

               The longer Michael had listened, the more he’d realized how wrong he’d been. He’d recognized that pain in Alex’s words, in the furrow of his brows. His voice had been beautiful and soft and strong and terrified all at the same time. That this lie he lived with, this lie that people saw, that it was going to define him forever. He would forever be under the eyes of those who would never know, and never understand, how bad it really was.

               And Michael had suddenly thought of past foster parents who’d pretended to be caring and loving and happy to have him as their son, when the truth was beatings and shouting and pain. And Michael had tried too many times in the past to know that, after a while, trying did nothing. He’d managed to rid himself of that, of the cruelty and abuse and fear, but Alex …

               It was then Michael had started to notice things about Alex he’d never noticed before. Sometimes he’d scrunch his shoulders, as if pained to move a particular arm or reveal his hip. Sometimes Alex’s eye looked swollen underneath his eyeliner, and sometimes … sometimes Alex smiled around Liz and Rosa Ortecho and Maria DeLuca. Sometimes he even laughed, and it was … everything.

One day Michael had found himself wanting Alex to talk to him, eager for his attention. He had no idea if he was welcome to just walk up to him, and had no idea what he would even say if he could, so he came into the music room. And he found Alex’s guitar, and a stupid thought had occurred to him.

               But it’ll bring Alex to me, he’d thought, and that had been good enough.

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Yeah, we still would have gotten the mom reveal which would have been great but keeping her alive and using that to create tension between Malex culminating in a rescue and her and Michael and Walt reuniting hits SO many more emotional beats and allows for interesting tension and character growth (just picturing Walt breaking down and apologizing that he didn’t care for Michael like he promised and getting to have Nora tell him he is still a good man and tried his best 😭) that is a thousand times more interesting the just heaping more loss and misery porn onto Michael. So thanks for that c*rina 🙃

Here’s to hoping season 3 is better written and more coherent and maybe we can move away from Max and the white savior complex we keep getting.

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Vlamis really dgaf about ships that aren’t malex huh

(screenshot from @gra-sonas malex merch live transcript)

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short on money but long on time

The one where Michael goes shopping for his date with Alex. Title, and slight inspiration, taken from the song New Shoes.

Also on AO3.


Michael shoved his hand in his pocket and swiftly pulled the dollar bills out. Setting the clothes down on the rack next to him, he started counting. $10. He furrowed his brows and quickly went searching his pocket again. He could have sworn he had more than that, but there were no holes in his too-small jeans where the bills could have escaped. He sighed and hung his head, his shoulders drooping. 

Taking a deep breath, he picked himself up. It’s fine, finding solutions is my specialty, he told himself. Shockingly he believed that. 

Michael placed the money back in his pocket, patting it to ensure it wouldn’t budge, and grabbed the clothes he had picked out. Holding the army green button up in front of him he wrinkled his nose; that one wasn’t good enough. The sweater made him scoff; he wasn’t a grandpa. And the light blue jeans? They would be perfect for everyday wear but not this occasion. 

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🎵 You’re a cowboy like me 🎶

Only singing songs that put me in my malex feels, I guess.

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Plot twist, I wrote you something anyway @cosmicclownboy ❤️


“I blame you.”

“Not a surprise, you always do.”

Michael dropped the tent that was missing a few poles to glare at Alex.

“I do not.”

“You literally just did,” Alex said, far too smug about being right when they were literally lost in the woods.

“That doesn’t count.”

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Last Line Meme

Tagged by @adiwriting , whom I love and missed.

CW: cheating

This is from a new fic, and it is a cheating fic. Alex is cheating on Forrest with Michael. Go no further if you aren’t into that content.

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having michael guerin as my favorite character is such a struggle

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I was going through my tv shows spreadsheet (because nerd) and I was updating for any new info we got about season premieres. And remember when we marathoned Roswell, New Mexico?? That was happening like right when the Covid stuff started around here. Ah. The good old days.


Originally posted by bisexualalienblast

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Oh man….All the Malex one shot ideas that float around in my brain that will never be written because I can’t write to save my life.

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