#((i could see him falling even harder in that case-he *is* a romantic nerd after all!))

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/708949395923763200/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

At her compliment, an uncharacteristically strangled-sounding squeak came out of Randall’s throat, and he resisted the urge to throw his hands up over his masked face and curl up into a ball, reminding himself that his bright red face was still hidden from her-yet still, he felt the urge to hide his flustered reaction, instead casting his eyes down at the attic floor to avoid looking at her.

Really? he thought to himself in silent amazement. She really thinks that I would be good company? That any woman would be lucky to have me for a date? It was extremely hard for him to fathom, and there was that angry, bitter little part of himself that doubted it, angrily even, that voice lashing out in his head, yelling in his mind Don’t you lie to me! No woman in her right mind would want to be seen out in public with me! Who on Earth would want to be seen with someone like me?

But Randal quelled this voice as best he could, trying not to let those nagging insecurities eat him up from the inside out (at least, anymore than they already were) and instead trust in Emily’s words. She wouldn’t lie to him, no, he knew in his heart of hearts that she was being honest when she said this-just as he was! He consoled himself with this fact, as he managed to smile for her, saying, in a tiny voice, “Th-Thank you, E-Emily...I-I really do mean it when I say anyone would b-be lucky to go out o-on the town with you!”

And they would! She was a charming conversationalist, she was polite to all she met, she had the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard, she made you feel as if you were the only person in the world when you were with her...all of this Randall himself could attest to, thanks to the time spent together, and so he felt very confident in telling her this-she would be wonderful company, because, to him, she was wonderful.

[cinnaminsvga]

🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: I know I said this update wouldn’t be written, but I decided to fix the little drabble I already had written and... It’s not as bad as I thought and now I’m moderately happy with it. Anyway... We’re entering angst city babey so please put on your seatbelts because we are SOARING! || W.C. 1.8K

prev // part 18 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

After sending his last text to you, Namjoon is only slightly surprised when he sees your caller ID flashing on his phone screen. When he looks at the time, he notices that it had taken you less than a minute for you to call him, no doubt ready to scream your head off at his outrageous suggestion. Admittedly, he knows that his idea might be a little outside of your comfort zone, but he believes you can do it. If his people reading skills are even remotely average, then he’s sure that it’ll work if you just—

“KIM NAMJOON! HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU COME UP WITH THAT CONCLUSION?” Your voice is loud enough to burst an eardrum, but luckily, Namjoon had already expected your volume and had held his phone an arm away. In his nine-ish days of knowing you, he’s somewhat accustomed to your theatrics, though you’re still no match for Hoseok’s excited shrieks.

“Hello Y/N,” Namjoon hums, sitting up groggily from his bed. It’s a bit too early to go to sleep, but he supposes that your panicked screams are going to keep him up a little bit longer. “I feel as though you’re overreacting a little.”

“A little?” You scoff loudly, and Namjoon can imagine you pacing circles in your room. You did always seem a little fidgety when you two went out together. “Namjoon, you can’t just expect me to go on a date with Jungkook—“

“Why not? You guys go out all the time, don’t you?” Namjoon points out, smiling slightly at your exasperated huffs.

“Well, that’s different! Those were platonic hangouts! Just bros being bros!”

“Then change the context a little bit. You don’t have to ask him to be your boyfriend just to go on a date.”

“Namjoon, I know you’re a smart man but I don’t think your math skills are all that great,” you say brusquely. “That doesn’t add up! If I ask him on a date, then he’ll know I’m into him and—“

“And that’s a bad thing?” Namjoon interrupts, raising a brow. “Y/N, we both know you’re being a little unreasonable right now.”

You splutter for a moment, but you find that you’re unable to retort. Namjoon smirks, continuing, “Y/N, I know you’re worried that Jungkook might get swept away now that he’s quote-unquote ‘single.’ I get it. But if you’re not going do anything about it and suffer in silence, then he’s definitely going to leave. Besides, I already told you that he probably likes you back, judging from how jealous he got. You could probably even ask your friends and they’d tell you the same.”

You snort. “God, I’d rather die than talk about… love stuff with those freaks I call friends,” you cough out a laugh, muffling the sound before it can continue. Namjoon knows you’re a bit conscious of your “unflattering” snorts, but he just finds them cute. A lot of the things you don’t like about yourself are cute in Namjoon’s eyes. “I can’t even imagine going to any of them about this… They’d just bully me and make me do something I don’t want to do!”

“Isn’t that basically what I’m doing right now?” Namjoon laughs, giggling even harder when he hears your tired groan.

“Yeah, but you’re nice. Unlike those meanies,” you say. Namjoon hates to admit it, but he does appreciate being special to you, even if it’s over something trivial like this.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Namjoon starts. He can hear you humming in agreement, but he doesn’t stop there. “But, it is a suggestion. Seeing as how you don’t have any other idea how to solve this mess, I’d say go for it. What’s the worse thing that can happen?”

“Um? I get rejected? Hello?”

“You don’t have to let him know it’s a date, you know.”

“What do you mean? Namjoon, you should stop speaking in riddles because I honestly don’t have enough brain cells for this, clearly.”

Namjoon sighs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… What if you fake date him?” When you don’t reply immediately, Namjoon is quick to keep talking. “Not that I’m asking you to stop fake dating me! What I’m trying to say is… Maybe try to rekindle the rumor that you and Jungkook are dating? He doesn’t have to know it’s a date, so long as everyone else thinks that you two are.”

“I… I guess?” You sound unsure, though Namjoon admits it’s kind of a long shot to begin with, not when you wouldn’t know the last thing about being subtle. He kind of wants to throttle you, in a gentle way. It’s honestly frustrating to see you like this, and he just wishes he could… Make the problem go away.

That would be easy. If Y/N just stopped pining after Jungkook, then he could just come in and—

His thoughts skid to a halt, nearly slapping himself to keep from going down that road again. Look at him, trying to help you with your mess when even he can’t get a handle on his own emotions. What is going on inside my head, he thinks sadly to himself.

“Listen, it’ll be really easy! All you have to do is text him and say, ‘Hey, wanna go have dinner with me tomorrow?’ but bring him somewhere nicer, perhaps? Then take a photo of him all dressed up and looking boyfriend-y and post it on Instagram. I’m sure that’ll shut people up.”

“Namjoon, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jungkook’s definition of ‘dressing up’ is combat boots, a hoodie, and his god-awful backpack the size of Africa. He looks like a nerd.”

“I mean, you kinda dress alike…” Namjoon mutters, and he’s thankful that you don’t hear his slight slip-up. He clears his throat. “A-anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine? I think it would be more suspicious if he wore a suit and tie or something. So long as you guys look cozy and comfy together, I’m sure people will take the hint. If worse comes to worst, I can maybe slip something to Johnny and he can retract his statement or something.”

“I hope to god that isn’t the case,” you say. Namjoon nods, before realizing you can’t even see him.

“Right. Well, I think everything should work out perfectly. Just ask him to some popular couples restaurant. Maybe the nice Italian place in Hongdae? Something more romantic, not necessarily fancy.”

There’s a pause on your end for a moment causing Namjoon to sweat a little, wondering if he might be overstepping. He does genuinely want to help you, though he hopes he isn’t actually weirding you out somehow. He’s not adept at handling love problems as much as he’s trying to appear to be, since he’s mostly using the romance novels he had read during his teen years as his sole source of reference. This is what I get for not dating for so long, Namjoon thinks, grimacing.

“Namjoon.” You break the silence, your voice quieter than before. Namjoon has to strain his ears a little, pursing his lips as he waits for your response. “Are you…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “Am I?”

Namjoon hears you hesitate, stuttering syllables over his phone speaker like you aren’t quite sure how to ask your question. “Do you remember when I asked you a few days ago if you were sure you don’t actually have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I don’t know how to say this without being weird, but I just want to say you’re great. Like,” you huff out a laugh, incredulous. “You’re just… The perfect package? You’re so kind and so sweet and it’s just? Almost mysterious how you don’t have someone special to call your own yet.”

Namjoon smiles wryly to himself, head bowed as he stares at his wrinkled bedsheets. “I suppose other people don’t feel the same way.” He tries forcing out a laugh, but it sounds a little strangled. His chest feels tight, strangely. Hopefully, you don’t notice.

“No, I highly doubt that! You’re literally the perfect guy. Any person would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.” You sound almost indignant, like you can’t imagine anyone ever thinking badly about him. He almost wants to laugh, but he tightens his hands into fists instead, digging his nails into his palms and leaving crescents in their wake.

“Well then… I guess that makes you lucky to have me, then?” Namjoon nearly slaps his hands to his mouth, a cold tingle of embarrassment mixed with fear running down his spine. Did he really just say that— “What I mean is, erm…”

“N-no, I get you.” You’re giggling, but—is he imagining it?—you sound a little nervous to his ears. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost imagine you blushing, bottom lip trapped underneath your teeth. “I guess I am lucky to be your fake girlfriend, huh? Even for just a few weeks?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes out the word, guilt washing over him like waves. Here he is, feeling things that he shouldn’t be, over a girl who was never his to begin with. There are seedlings in his chest, barely anything to write home about. But he knows—a gardener can see the garden even before the flowers have bloomed. Each day he spends with you is another day they get a chance to grow, and he’s afraid he’ll soon be overrun, unable to handle the forest that is bound to erupt. “Just a few weeks,” he echoes, unable to completely hide the sadness from his words.

“I guess I am just being melodramatic about everything, huh?” you say. It takes a moment for Namjoon to even remember what the two of you had been talking about, so caught up in his thoughts that he has to pinch himself back to reality.

“Think of it as a funny story to tell your grandkids,” Namjoon says.

You laugh, and Namjoon can feel a seedling sprout its first leaf. “Yeah. Definitely. God, I can’t even begin to think about kids… Not when I can’t even ask him out on a fucking date.”

“You can do it, Y/N.” Namjoon whispers. He flops back down onto his bed, eyes half-closed as he stares at his cracked ceiling. If he breathes quietly enough, he can hear the sounds of Seoul outside his windowpane. If he stops breathing altogether, he might be able to hear you across the city, your socked feet padding towards your bed, curling up into your own blanket.

“Thank you, Namjoon. Really.”

For what? Namjoon leaves that part unspoken. “You’re welcome,” he says instead. He drops the call, feeling a little emptier than before.

[aficwhore]

Times Square Significance

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, oral(female receiving), cockwarming, lovemaking?, language

Word Count: 1,986

Summary: After Aaron proposes in New York City, him and the reader head back to their hotel for a romantic night.

A/N: It has been super duper long since I’ve last written but this came to my head and I HAD to put it out into the internet. Let me know if you like it! Send in requests!!! I also didn’t spell check… oops.

Reader POV:

It was about time that Aaron and I took a small vacation. The BAU had started to get really stressful with the amount of cases popping up and people needing our help. Finally died down and we decided to get away, even if it was just for a few days. We drove all the way to New York City, just because Aaron knew how much I loved it.

Today is our second day here, I’ve been so excited that I woke up early to find Aaron curled up on my side with his head resting on my chest. His deep breaths fanning over my exposed skin, his floppy dark locks tickling my neck. I began to card my fingers through his hair, not wanting to wake him, but that failed when he started to stir a little bit.

Aaron muffled, “What time is it,” still groggy from his slumber.

“It’s 10 o’clock sleeping beauty,“ I quietly giggled. He slightly shook his head at the nickname, a light blush making its way to his cheeks. Without saying anything he got up and went to the bathroom, only for the shower to start seconds later. Taking this as a sign to get ready, I climbed out of bed and opened up my suitcase. I wasn’t sure what to wear, I had no idea what her plans were for today on the town. Just as I was thinking Aaron yelled from the bathroom, “Wear something nice! We might go see if we can snag tickets for a show!”

My heart fluttered, he knows how much I love Broadway. “Oh yeah? Which one are you thinking?“ I question as he walked out of the bathroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

“That I’m not actually sure of, what’s the one with the soundtrack you listen to? The ghost in the theater or something?“ He asked.

Giggling I reply, “Phantom of the opera, silly. But I will admit that was cute.“

He walked over to me, “I try.“ He quickly picked me on the lips in rummages through his suitcase for clothes.

I finally choose a red, flowy dress, with some wedges and curl my hair and throw a little makeup on. Aaron dressed in some nice dress pants and a cream colored button up, with the first but none done, which was unusual for Mr. boss man.

We walked to a cute little diner for something to eat, by the time I was finished getting ready it was already lunchtime. We ate and chatted about New York and what else we were going to do during our stay.

*tiny time skip*

We had just bought our tickets for the Phantom of the Opera, grabbed some drinks, and headed to our seats. The whole time I sat in complete awe, I was a total nerd for the show. Aaron kept staring at me, I could see from the corner of my eye. I whispered, “why do you keep looking at me?“

“I love you, and because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.“ He attempted to whisper back over the loud contents of the show in front of us.

“Shush! we are watching!“ Some random lady whisper-yelled at us, causing us to giggle and turn back to the performance. Aaron‘s hand made its way to my knee, slightly squeezing, earning a small smile from me. I leaned against the shoulder for the remainder. When it ended I cannot stop talking about how amazing life theater is, he would just check with my enthusiasm and let me continue on.

As we left the theater Aaron suggested we walk around Times Square and watch the lights. I agreed and we walked the block hand-in-hand. We arrive minutes later, the whole street not needing a single light, due to what seems like a 1000 billboards. We stood right in the middle, taking in the beauty around us. I got too caught up in the site that I turned away from Aaron. Basking in the smell of the city and the pictures that scattered the buildings. One billboard particularly caught my attention, for a second I thought my name popped up. Watching the same one to see if it happened again, a new message appeared reading, “Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?” confused, I turned around to see if Aaron was saying what I was seeing, but when I spun on my heel I was met with crowds of people surrounding us, filming us on their phones. I look down to see Aaron on one knee with a ring in between his fingers. “You have made me the happiest man on earth. You have made my life so amazing, from being a badass FBI agent, to a wonderful stepmom to Jack, and to being the most kind and selfless person I know. I can’t imagine my life without you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, will you do me the honor of marrying me?“ He stuttered.

Tears began to fill my eyes and spill out onto my cheeks, my first instinct was to lunch at him, causing his post to fall to the pavement giggling, “yes! Yes of course, I love you Aaron Hotchner.“ I wept. Allowed to hear from the people surrounding us, broke out, we got up and he put The beautiful diamond ring on my finger and we embraced in a loving case. There was no doubt our proposal would be all over the Internet, the team will find out soon but that didn’t matter at this moment. Only we did.

We slowly made our way back to our hotel, Aaron holding my hand and spinning me in circles, showing how happy we both were. We didn’t say much in the elevator, our smiles did most of the talking. As soon as the door opened to our floor, I gave him a mischievous smirk and began running to our room. “Come catch me!“ I yelled.

“Oh just you wait!“ Aaron laughed and followed right behind.

Right as we reached our door he swooped me up and spun me around, us in a giggling fit. He carefully placed me down and tilted  my chin up for a kiss. Because it was innocent at first, but quickly turned needy. He pulled away, opening the door to reveal our room, dimly lit with candles scattered across the room. Rose petals let a small trail from the doorway to the bed. I guessed in all my heart swelling with love. I turn my fiancé, adoration in his eyes, healing down, taking my lips into a sweet kiss. His slightly chapped lips contrasted with my last ones. I wrapped my arms around his neck in an attempt to deep in the kiss. His hands slowly found their place at the small of my back, trailing down just a little bit to give my ass a squeeze.

His tongue swiped across my bottom lip, asking for insurance. Or tongue stance does the candles flickered across the room. I took in the moment, the roses, the candles, my man, and the way he tasted; like mint. I pulled back, glancing into his eyes, all while biting my lip.

He slowly let me backwards towards the bed, until my knees made contact and I fell back, him gently hovering over my small frame. One of his hands roamed up my thigh, to my hip, agonizingly slow between the valley of my breasts, and then gliding over my bottom lip. I think him down into a kiss, his hand found one of mine in and released our fingers as I opened my legs, welcoming him between them. I could feel his hard against my clothes core, bucking my hips up to him, I ground the sensation. He froze for a second instead up, still positioned between my thighs. He ended his button up throwing it somewhere in the dark corner. He ran his fingers along the hem of my dress, looking at me for permission, not going any further, “yes, take it off Aaron,“ need soaked in my voice.

He carefully lifted the red fabric up over my hips and head, discarding it into the blackness. As he started to kiss my neck, finding my sweet spot, I frantically reached for his belt and I’m doing the buckle and tugging his pants and underwear down. As I began to stroke him, he left marks across my chest and breast, a small groan from me. cool let me take care of my future wife,“ he whispered as he trail down my body kneeling at the edge of the bed. He peeled off my panties and one motion. He started to bite and suck on my inner thighs, causing me to whine. “I know baby, I can I’ll give you what you want,“ he smirked as he pulled me closer to him and put my legs over his broad shoulders. He placed a small kiss to my clit, leading to me putting my hands in his hair and slightly tugging. He moaned, sending vibrations to my whole body. He swiftly added two fingers in my wet cunt, pumping them and scissoring me open. He spit up a little, grazing my G spot, causing the coil in my stomach to tighten dangerously fast. I no longer held back my moans, nothing but my voice and what sounds filled the room. “Baby, I’m so close, I’m gonna c-“ I came crashing down with a loud cry. My leg started to shake as he rode me through my high.

Aaron came back up to meet my lips. I tried to flip him on his back so I could taste him, but he stopped me, “we have all the Time in the world for that my love. I want to be inside you.“ He said in his sultry voice. He situated himself between my legs once again, unclasping my bra and reconnecting our lips in a rough kiss. Our tongues fight for dominance.

I reached down and grabbed his cock, rubbing it against my wet slit, eliciting a moan from him. “Quit teasing Y/n”

I guided him to my entrance and he fully sheathed himself in my pussy. I have never felt as full as I do now. With only seconds to adjust, he started trusting, setting a slow bit rough pace. Each other’s names fell from our mouth, along with gas in months. As he thrusted harder, I rake my nails done his back, causing him to tense and speed up a little. I attacked his neck, sucking and biting along his jaw, allowing him to become more vocal, “I don’t think I’m going to last much longer sweetheart.”

“Me too,” I took out. His trust became erratic and fast, so I reached between us and toyed with my clit, chasing my orgasm. I came with a scream of his name, “Aaron!”

Seconds behind me, he released his load inside of me, struggling to catch his breath. He was about to pull out of me when I stopped him. “Can we just stay like this for a little while? I want to remember this, and today.”

He chucked, relaxing and laying his head against my chest. Not long after, we drifted to sleep. aim loving embrace of each other.

To think, soon i’d be “Mrs. Hotchner.”

[trensu]

Episode 6: the One Where LWJ is Drunk and Gets Married

YES, GUYS GALS AND NB PALS, WE ARE AT THIS MOST WONDERFUL EPISODE.

OUR FIRST INTRODUCTION TO DRUNKJ!LWJ

AND THE HANDFASTING THAT INSPIRED A MILLION FICS

Okay, to set the scene, we’ve got JC, NHS and WWX having a sneaky drinking party with Forbidden Alcohol

Obviously, LWJ can spidey-sense when a rule is being violently broken so he appears at the scene of the crime to BREAK UP THE PARTY (or possibly a threesome?? He’s not sure but he’s gonna put a stop to that immediately)

HIS SERIOUS BB FACE IS SUPER ADORABLE HERE, GUYS

LIKE, I’M MORE PARTIAL TO WWX BUT UGH, LWJ IS SO CUTE HERE???

IT’S AWFUL

WWX: *bounces right into lwj’s space* join us for a drink lan zhan!! We earned it after defeating the Haunted Water!!

LWJ: *stares over wwx’s shoulder* alcohol is forbidden in the cloud recesses

WHY WON’T YOU LOOK HIM IN THE FACE, LWJ?? IS IT BECAUSE HE’S SO CLOSE TO YOU SUDDENLY???

WWX: chill out dude *playfully tugs on lwj’s sleeve*

Oh man, the glare that lwj shoots at wwx’s hand here could have started a fire. I mean, it must have at least burned a little with how quickly wwx lets go

LWJ: Report to the Punishment Chamber

Did they have to call it ‘punishment chamber’??

It sounds like some kind of kinky sex dungeon, which, like, to each their own,(i’ll read some kinky sex dungeon fic every once and a while, myself)

But this is Ancient Fantasy China summer school…seems a little inappropriate in context

ANYWAY

WWX again tries to coax LWJ in to having a drink with them. He doesn’t understand how someone can just…not drink alcohol. Oh wwx, you budding alcoholic you

And here WWX nobly sacrifices himself to save his drunk buddies by distracting lwj (who was about to call for backup, like a narc) and pins some sort of mind-control talisman on him

Wwx: sit and have a drink with me!

Lwj: *sits down and takes a shot*

Lwj: *passes out*

Wwx: omg i killed him. WAKE UP YOU CAN’T STAY HERE!! YOU HAVE TO GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM!! 

Wwx: *proceeds to gently guide lwj onto the bed*

You know after that initial panic, wwx looks too damn pleased with himself, especially after he gets lwj to call him wei-gege

Wwx suddenly notices that lwj’s ribbon is off kilter and informs him of it bc that’s what friends do

Wwx: your ribbon is crooked

Lwj: *scandalized gasp* crooked??

Why’s he so adorable when he’s drunk?? LOOK AT HIM TRYING TO SEE HIS OWN FOREHEAD AND GETTING ALL CROSS-EYED, WHAT A CUTIE

Wwx: i can help!! 

Lwj: *slaps wwx’s hand* Go Away

Wwx: you’re making it worse!!

Lwj: *slaps wwx’s hand away harder* DON’T TOUCH! THE RIBBON IS ONLY FOR FAMILY AND SIGNIFICANT OTHERS

And now we have a way to measure their queer queer love for each other without making the censors mad

How does this show do it?? This is gayer than most of the stuff aired in the US and the US doesn’t even have that kind of censorship laws media producers here are a bunch of COWARDS, disney i’m looking at you

Wwx: lol, significant others, really?

Lwj: what’s so funny

Wwx: nobody’s gonna marry into the lan clan with your thousands of dumb rules and chronic allergy to fun

LOLOLOL BOY HAS NO CLUE. JUST YOU WAIT WWX, YOU’RE GONNA EAT THOSE WORDS

Wwx: nope, you are gonna be Forever Alone

Lwj: …that’s fine

This is actually kind of heartbreaking tbh

He’s so resigned and pretending so hard not to care!!

HE TRULY BELIEVES HE’S NOT LOVABLE *UGLY CRYING*

Idk how the actor did it bc lwj still has a very placid expression on his face but it somehow manages to convey like, a sense of loneliness while still looking adorably drunk?? Idk man, i think black magic might be involved

All this to say POOR BB LAN ZHAN, COME HERE SWEETIE AND LET ME HUG YOU. YOU’RE GONNA BE FINE, I SWEAR.

Wwx is so incredulous at this response. Like he totally believes lwj would be okay staying alone forever but he doesn’t understand it

Bc wwx is a dumb teenage boy who doesn’t yet have the emotional intelligence to see that lwj is just saying that bc he’s scared and hurting

Now we get to see an acute case of Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome like we did back in episode 2!

Wwx: your mother must be so bored here all the time

DAMN IT WWX

WHAT IS IT WITH HIM AND BRINGING UP PEOPLE’S DEAD MOTHERS???

LWJ: i don’t have a mother 

He says flatly HIDING HIS SORROW

*UGLY SOBBING*

HE’S SO SAD AND LONELY GUYS

IT HURTS TO LOOK AT

WWX: you can’t not have a mother! Somebody gave birth to…oh.

There’s a crack vid somewhere on youtube with this scene voiced over “it was at that moment he realized…he Fucked Up”

And it’s true

Dumb boy

Here WWX makes up by sharing his sad orphan story with LWJ. it’s so sweet

THEIR SONG IS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND WHILE THIS EXCHANGE HAPPENS

UGH THIS SHOW

LISTEN, ALL THIS HAS HAPPENED ALREADY AND WE’RE BARELY 10 MINUTES INTO THE EPISODE

LIKE, WHAT??

HOW. HOW CAN YOU GIVE ME SO MANY FEELINGS IN TEN MINUTES. THE FIRST TEN MINUTES OF THE EP EVEN.

WWX: my parents died when i was four and I can’t remember their faces–but i do remember getting chased by feral dogs

POOR BB WWX

HE CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER THEIR FACES 

OH, but we do get to see Actual BB!wwx in a brief flashback (within a flashback, remember this summer school business is not present time, how weird is that) and he’s riding a donkey while his mama and papa walk beside him. It’s adorable.

And after all that Emotional Vulnerability, he’s like “i’ll drink to that bro!” and makes a toast

I actually kind of like the toast he makes here with lwj tho

He tells him “may we never forget what is worth remembering or remember what is worth forgetting”

Idk if that’s like, a traditional toast or something he made up on the spot, but i like it

We get a brief moment of plot development here. 

AND OOOOH, THEY’RE ABOUT TO GET IN TROUBLE!!

So some Lan SNITCH barges into the room where lqr and lxc are at and is all “we caught wwx drinking Forbidden Alcohol!” and lxc’s expression is all gently amused

but then Lan Snitch continues “LWJ was with him!!” and lxc’s amused expression quickly morphs into Very Alarmed

(right before that all happened tho we get to see lwj fall out of bed, still passed out drunk and wwx laughs at him. I can’t even hold that against him bc i totally laughed at lwj too)

The camera now shows us some frankly HORRIFYING beating sticks (paddles?? Do they qualify as paddles?? THEY’RE HUGE AND SCARY AND MADE OF NIGHTMARES)

And bc LWJ is too honorable for his own good

Lwj: i am at fault and accept my punishment!

And goes on his knees to willingly get beaten. STOP THAT LWJ

WWX IMMEDIATELY steps in to take the blame, like no, it’s actually my fault bc i forced him to drink when he didn’t want to. LAN ZHAN SHOULDN’T GET PUNISHED!!

LQR: (proving that lans are all Dramatique) ARE YOU TRYING TO RUIN CLOUD RECESSES??

Take a chill pill, old man. A teenager getting drunk is not gonna start the apocalypse (probably)

And here lwj completely ignores wwx’s attempt to absolve him and is all no, I Made a Mistake and Must Get Punished 

Wwx: STOP ASKING FOR PUNISHMENT YOU IDIOT

So the punishment is kind of…harsh, but also lol bc as soon as wwx sees lwj take the beating without flinching or even staggering under the strength of the hits (lwj is truly a stronger man than i; one look at those Nightmare Sticks I would’ve run for the hills), he grits his teeth and forces himself to stay steady

Wwx: *internally but you can totally read it in his face* i’m not gonna let that bastard one-up me!! I have WAY more experience taking punishments. I am the punishment KING.

Okay so that all happens and afterwards WINGMAN LXC STRIKES AGAIN

LXC: wwx, you should definitely visit the family’s private cold spring

LXC: you know, so you can heal faster and not miss class

LXC: not for any other reason

I’D LIKE TO TAKE THIS MOMENT TO THANK GOD AND ALSO JESUS FOR THE UPCOMING SCENE

WE ARE AT THE COLD SPRING

LOOK AT WWX RUNNING TOWARDS LWJ

WET, HALF-NAKED LWJ

Wwx: *leans coquettishly against a tree thing and pouts* why didn’t you tell me about this spring? Friends don’t keep secrets from friends!!

wwx, you’re so clever, how can you be so stupid – boy is flirting at max level and doesn’t even realize it???

Lwj: HOW ARE YOU EVEN HERE *frantically robes up like some virginal maiden which he kinda is*

Wwx: your brother told me!

Lwj: *internally* brother why

And here wwx gets into the cold spring

Wwx: so cold so cold, let me get close to you where it’s warmer~! *dives right into lwj’s personal bubble*

Lwj: *takes a HUGE step back*

Wwx: *pouts* you know i didn’t like you much before but after our Romantic Moonlit Sword Fight and our Sword Fight By the Waterfall, i’ve decided i like you a lot and we should definitely be friends forever

Lwj: *doesn’t even look at wwx* That’s Not Necessary

Wwx: before you reject me, let me show you all the ~benefits~ to being my friend! *starts to strip*

(I’M NOT EVEN KIDDING YOU, HE LITERALLY SAID BENEFITS AND STARTED TO GET NAKED)

LWJ *is Horrified in a Repressed Gay Way* WHAT ARE YOU DOING

WWX: getting naked?? To heal better?? I thought this was obvious???

LWJ: *determinedly walks away*

WWX: wait don’t leave!! I’ll keep my clothes on! Anyway you should definitely visit me in yunmeng and i can pick lotus seeds for you. That’s totally what i meant about benefits.

LWJ: no

WWX: i can also introduce you to all the pretty girls there!

I CRACK UP EVERY TIME AT THIS. WWX, THAT IS A WHOLE GAY BOY YOU’RE TALKING TO, OH MY GOD

Then it turns out the cold spring is actually Haunted Water 2: This Time It’s Personal and tries to drown them

See this is why i don’t trust any bodies of water

They’re all out to get us

AND NOW WE GET TO THE  CAVE OF WONDERS (or cold pond cave, whatev)

Wwx: what is happening

Lwj: *is fascinated by the cave of wonders*

Lwj: *internally* ooooh Magic Guqin!! (BECAUSE HE’S A NERD LOLOL)

Magic Guqin: NOT TODAY SATAN *attacks wwx*

Wwx: WHY IS IT ATTACKING ME, I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING YET!!

brief pause here to point out that we meet the bunnies now!! Hello bunnies!!! Everyone in the fandom loves you~!!! 💗💗💗

Okay so Magic Guqin continues to attack wwx but wwx is a Clever Boy and figures out that it’s only attacking him because he doesn’t have a sacred lan ribbon

Wwx: lwj, quick, give me your ribbon!

Lwj: *FLIES RIGHT OVER TO WWX and proceeds to bind their wrists together with the SACRED RIBBON ONLY FAMILY ANd S.O.’s CAN TOUCH*

Then the camera zooms in on the metal piece of the ribbon that is now swaying gently between them like, Subtlety? Never heard of her!

Camera: yep, this is totally a straight thing that straight bros do together

So now that they’re bound together for eternity the boys approach the Magic Guqin

Lwj slaps wwx’s hands away from the guqin here – just bc i let you touch the sacred ribbon doesn’t mean you can touch the magic guqin that tried to murder you

BC LWJ IS A MUSIC NERD AND IS TOTALLY GEEKING OUT OVER THE PRECIOUS MUSICAL HEIRLOOM

LWJ proceeds to reverently play the Magic Guqin and we have this moment where he’s like, floating in space surrounded by glowy blue lights??

Idk man, it’s weird but we’ll roll with it

This is the first time we see him communicate with spirits using music, btw. 

Now we meet Lan Yi!! Who is a badass and important for plot reasons but the Valid Reason she’s mentioned here is because SHE OFFICIATES THE WANGXIAN WEDDING (bc we’ve already established that we’re not here for the plot lol)

the boys are tied together with the sacred ribbon and then they bow to a clan elder. How is that not, bare minimum, a handfasting??? 

Okay, technically, lwj bowed to the elder first to show respect while wwx stood there all stunned until lwj reminded him of the Importance of Manners. Then wwx bowed. But I’m pretty sure that still counts.

“You two being here must be destiny!” lan yi says, “i’m gonna do some plot exposition so pay attention.”

Thankfully we are not lwj or wwx so we don’t have to pay attention at all!!

At some point, wwx makes a clever comment and lan yi is all “wwx you’re as smart as i thought!! 

Yes yes i definitely approve of you marrying my great great great grand-son/nephew/whatever the heck he is, idk i’ve been in this cave too long with only bunnies for company" (🎶bunnies are better than people, buns don’t you think that’s true~?🎶 I AM SO SORRY FOR THAT REFERENCE, DISNEY YOU STILL SUCK I JUST HAVE POOR SELF-RESTRAINT)

Okay, she for real complimented wwx’s intelligence (bc I guess everyone’s hot for WWX’s big brain? Idk) but i’m pretty sure she was thinking the rest of that really loudly in her head

Then more plot stuff happens and the episode ends!!!

Beautiful, phenomenal episode. One of the MOST IMPORTANT Wangxian episodes we have!! 100/10 stars, would watch again.

Return to Masterpost

[hydra-collector]

Whole: Chapter Three

AO3

Fic Page (all chapters listed here)

Second Fic in the Series

Chapters Finished: 6/6

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

TW: self-deprecation? very slight

Words: 1,032

Summary: Remus takes Logan on a little adventure to tell him something.

“C’mon, nerd.”

“Remus, it’s the middle of the night-”

“Exactly.”

Remus dragged Logan down the stairs, who was desperately trying to stay quiet. It was nearly midnight, and the sky was pitch black when they arrived outside, save for the few stars not drowned out by light pollution. Logan was ushered down the block to the bus stop before he could object.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

“Remus, where are we going?”

“To see the stars!”

“We can’t- we can’t go on the bus, it’s the middle of the night-”

“Yes, we can.”

Logan’s feelings had definitely grown. God, he couldn’t even sit next to Remus on the goddamn bus without being extremely conscious of the warmth coming from him. He let himself glance at his friend a few times.

God, is he pretty.

What was the flirting in the closet? And what does the sudden absence of it mean?

Does he just find me attractive?

I couldn’t fathom why.

Maybe he is in love with me.

Doubtful.

He was whisked from his thoughts and out of the bus. They were on the outskirts of the city at this point, where there were fewer houses, and more importantly, fewer lights. Remus pulled Logan with him, running through the empty streets until he stopped at a house.

“Who’s house is this?”

“Grandma’s. She gave me a spare key in case something happened. Not sure if she’s home, or away or something, she never tells us.”

“I’m just glad you had an answer to that question.”

“I wouldn’t have if I could scale walls.”

“Wait, what are we doing here?”

Remus grinned at him, jogging up the steps, unlocking the door and bringing him inside. He had no choice but to follow him upstairs in case he did something stupid. They wandered through the halls, until he’d apparently found the door he was looking for, opening it and creeping into the bedroom.

“Why, exactly, are we here?”

“Because…” he said, heading over to the window, “we can…” he pulled the window up, shoving the screen along with it after, “...get on the roof this way.”

He smiled at Logan, presenting the open window with a swish of his hand.

“You realize that’s… very dangerous. We’re on the third floor.”

“Hmm? What’re you saying?”

Remus was already crawling out the window, stepping out onto the ledge. Logan followed him reluctantly, but only to make sure he didn’t fall to his death. The breeze was cool, and the stars were much prettier out here. The ledge was barely enough room for them to sit, though.

“C’mon, Lo, there’s a wider bit this way.”

“Remus- Remus!”

He’d begun climbing up the side of the roof, which, if their venture wasn’t already dangerous, was an extremely stupid venture. Still, he couldn’t help but follow. It was stupid, and both of them would probably die, or at least get minorly injured, if nothing else.

Remus slid down the other side to a flat part of the roof, which seemed much safer than their previous ledge. Logan joined him sitting down, and felt a soft warmth on his shoulder.

“Lay down, Lo. We’ll see them better.”

Remus only moved closer when he did so, and he couldn’t help but feel the burning in his cheeks.

“What constellations are around right now?”

“I think you can just make out Cancer right…” Logan pointed, squinting his eyes, “there. It’s a bit later than the best time to see it, but you can.”

“You remembered my star sign?”

“Well, I thought it would be more interesting than just some random constellation. Oh, there’s Orion.”

“See? Aren’t you glad I brought you out here?”

“I must admit, it’s wonderful to be able to see the stars so well. It’s not nearly as remote as is optimal, but… it’s better than what I’m used to. Although I still can’t condone being on the roof.”

“I don’t think you ever will, and I don’t think you should.”

Remus snuggled closer as Logan continued pointing out the constellations he recognized. He loved the times when they would argue, get excited together, share passions, but this was different. And it was nice. It was calm, and it was quiet, and it was perfect.

“Lo?”

“Mhm?”

“I wanna tell you something. And I wanted to tell you tonight.”

“So, if you can’t already tell from nearly every interaction we’ve had, and what’s happening at the moment,” he gestured vaguely towards his head laid on Logan’s chest, “I really like you. I love you. And if you’d like to keep things platonic, that’s fine too. Just thought you should know.”

Logan hesitated for a moment, gazing at Remus’s face, gentle and loving. He shifted slightly, smiling as he reached down to take Remus’s hand, rubbing it, heat rising on his cheeks as the action was returned with a tight squeeze.

”...I believe kissing is a conventional thing to do when you share mutual romantic feelings with someone.”

Remus shifted, propping himself up with one arm and letting go of his hand to brush his hand on Logan’s cheek. He leaned down to join their lips, reveling in the silence. The only thing there to move, or make noise, was Logan. Logan’s heart was filled to the brim, something he didn’t know he would ever feel. His whole body felt like that, relaxed, loved. Neither were sure how to go about a first kiss, so it ended up being short and soft.

“I don’t understand it, but it’s… wonderful.”

Logan guided Remus’s head back down, deciding to experiment more. This kiss was lengthened, Logan wrapping his arms around Remus, allowing himself to relax. It was hard not to, as he melted from the intimacy. Remus pressed harder, allowing it to contradict the soft night air and have a little taste of passion.

“If… it’s not weird, do you mind if I note down my emotional response to this?”

“Honestly, I was considering that too, it’s a lot different than kissing a girl. Especially since it’s you. ...Shouldn’t we repeat the experiment to get the most accurate data?”

“I believe that would be the best course of action.”

[fimflamfilosophy]

Characters: Tearing Each Other Together

After the world-sweeping success of my previous article (forty notes on Tumblr, wow!) and being driven out of my house due to mold for the second time in two months, I think the time is right to add another essay to the subject of character design and writing. But what’s left to say after having definitely solved the entire process of character writing the last time?

Well, suppose you can figure out the emotional state of one person. That’s well and good, and oddly harder for people than you might imagine. And I think the reason it’s so hard is because in virtually any show you’re not going to be given a character in a vacuum to learn that process from. They have some story, something they’re trying to overcome, and other characters they’re bouncing off of, and the actual process of conflict is more complicated than knowing who your characters are.

Hate, Love, or Indifference, It’s All A Struggle

So what’s the essence of a story? There’s some motive that’s trying to be achieved. A conflict. And I can’t stress this enough. Conflict. Because it’s one thing if you say your main character is a kid who wants to be the best Poke’mon trainer and completely another to have that be a concrete objective with a satisfying story and conclusion. Wanting to be the “best” isn’t actually conflict. It’s a dream. Being forced to travel the known world to acquire eight gaudy pins that probably cost twenty-five cents each to manufacture? That’s conflict.

And not only do you have to travel the world, you do so with a shrill red-head who explicitly hates you because you trashed her bike, and a sex-starved pervert whose life dream is to make Poke’mon mate with each other for a living. And that’s important. Without Misty and Brock, Ash’s journey is a lot less interesting for a lot of reasons. Misty calls Ash out every time he messes up, and aside from being on a watch list, Brock is a helpful older character who tells Ash, and therefore the audience, what’s what.

But let’s back up, because people understand the benefit of Brock and Misty at a basic level, but when you’re starting off, how do you know who those people should be? Well, every show, from sitcom, to comedy to drama, does its best to balance personalities against each other so there’s always some sort of conflict possible between them.

Now, “conflict” doesn’t mean they’re trying to kill each other. It could mean they’re falling in love with each other. Maybe it means they don’t have much in common but have to work together over long hours in isolation. The idea is simply that there’s something to overcome between these people. Misty thinks Ash is stupid - that’s a conflict which is often leveraged to push Ash forward. Brock, however, has a reactive role in the show, only functioning in conflict when a womanizer who grovels at the feet of ladies Ash is already helping anyway.

It’s odd because if Misty were older she would be set up very well as kind of an “opposites” romantic torture device with Brock. They’re even depicted as professional equals, which would have made their levels of expertise and experience more balanced. Had they been closer in apparent age, a “will they won’t they” romance would have fit adequately, with Brock’s constant hitting on other women serving as a major, hopeless, long-lasting roadblock to a serious relationship between them; it would work especially well because Misty is established to have an inferiority complex to her prettier sisters. It also might help explain why Brock hung around so long. But as it was, Brock’s main contribution to the inner dynamic was to act as a mediator, caretaker, and mentor.

But circling back to Brock’s dream of Poke’mon husbandry. Well, on the meta level that’s why he doesn’t leave. Because it’s not a motive, he’s not taking steps towards it, and it’s not going to happen, it’s just a dream. Until it does happen, anyway, and then they wrote him out of the show - but we’ll dig more into this later.

Balancing Imbalance

The best place to look to see good conflict set ups between characters are popular sitcoms. Consider the show “Frasier”: it ran for eleven seasons and revolved mainly around the personal spats of Frasier, his brother Niles, their dad, and the dad’s caretaker, Daphne. Frasier was arrogant, Niles was insecure, Dad was an earnest roughneck, and Daphne was well-meaning. Frasier and Niles were also elitist pricks at times so they couldn’t even always agree where to eat together, much less with their father who was happier having a burger with ketchup.

Every episode had some central motivator; an ice fishing trip, a joint investment, an awards ceremony - but these things were just catalysts to the main conflict, which was almost always something between characters. We’d seen it time and again, that Frasier and his Dad would come to blows over differences in taste. Niles would try to court Daphne while torn by his commitment to his failing marriage, over and over. But the pithy banter and the way they resolved it would always be new, so people watched this show, episode after episode, for over a decade.

And the simple beauty of it all was that each of the characters had something to do with each other. Whether it be filial obligation, lust, sibling rivalry, friction between introversion and extroversion, or taste in food, they always had some source of conflict to make a show out of. Niles and Frasier were both psychiatrists, but from different schools of thought and different working environments, so they even had chances to butt heads academically and professionally. It was rich with writing opportunities and it’s not any wonder it lasted so long.

Another sitcom, “New Girl”, which was about a group of roommates, had a good dynamic set-up between two characters, Schmidt and Nick. Nick is a messy slob and Schmidt’s a type A neat freak, creating a really obvious source of conflict to work with. But then they had a third character, Winston, who they lampshade as the token black guy. 

Now, the joke that Winston is the “black friend” has pretty much no legs, so in the early seasons you see him acting as kind of a third party mediator, or maybe a wild card, and it winds up being funnier when Winston is unhelpful. So as the seasons went on, Winston gradually lost his damn mind. He becomes a cop and meets a woman so that he’d have some character growth and dynamic, but also develops into a man who would burn a building down as a prank. The writers had no idea what they were doing with him and he gradually flew further and further off the handle.

Don’t get me wrong, I really liked Winston as a character. Aside from being funny in the show, watching the writers gradually unglue him from sanity was its own meta comedy above that. I knew they were doing it on accident, but having such a good time with it that it was just going to keep getting worse. In fact a major component of the finale for the whole show is an insane thing Winston does. They wrap the show on the note, “Winston is crazy”. And it all happened because they didn’t figure out what Winston’s conflict was at the start. He didn’t have a source of conflict with anyone, so the man became a living breathing embodiment of conflict in general.

Your Story Ends With the Conflict

Now, the catch is, in any type of fiction, whether a video game, a roleplaying session, or a sitcom, the story ends when the conflict does, because if the conflict is over there’s nothing more to tell! It used to frustrate me to no end back when “My Little Pony” was popular and the other nerds on the internet used to ask, “How many times must Fluttershy learn not to be shy, or that being shy is okay? When will she overcome all that she is and eliminate the core element that creates conflict for her?”

The answer should always be that the character will learn their damn lesson when the show ends or when they’re written off it. If you are sick of seeing a character and don’t want to see them any more, the best thing to do is close out their issues, because once they have no conflicts, they have no story, and there’s no point in doing a show about them. Asking Fluttershy to stop being shy is asking to say goodbye to her, because she's a cartoon and her job is to entertain kids by being neurotic and yellow.

People think they’re so smart when they say they’d solve all a character’s problems if it were them. In the finale to the first season of Poke’mon, for example, Ash decides to gamble his whole championship run on Charizard, who’s a self-absorbed bitch of a creature that ultimately throws the match and leaves it an open question whether Ash might have won if he’d left the team primadonna sitting on the bench.

Some viewers see that and complain it’s the dumbest possible thing Ash could have done, but it’s probably one of the single most brilliant things the Poke’mon writers did in the grand scheme, because think about where it left us. Ash didn’t achieve his goal of proving he’s “the best”, but it feels like a fluke and if he got another shot, he might make it all the way. This gave the show a gateway to more episodes with Ash still having something to prove and a dumb mistake indicating he still had a lot to learn. Because he didn’t win, his story hadn’t ended.

In some cases shows can end characters just by addressing some dream goal they’ve been expressing since the first season. In the case of Brock, they intentionally removed him from the show by introducing him to some girl who was willing to work with Brock in the animal husbandry business. He’d been traveling all this time, his dream opportunity fell into his lap, and he was gone. What reason would he have to refuse, and why would anyone stop him? And of course, Brock’s dream job was incompatible with the central plot elements of the rest of the show, so that was it!

The Format Informs the Conflict

If you want to write something but you aren’t sure when it’s going to end, you need a concrete, long-term conflict that’s not just going to go away. For example, in “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts”, there were thirteen ghosts. By design, that show should have ended after Scooby Doo found all thirteen ghosts. It actually ended earlier than that because it was cancelled, but you get the idea. When you have a finite goal, your run time is going to be finite as well.

At least in theory. In “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure” they establish at the beginning of one season that everyone’s magic powers were based on the Tarot. Now, I don’t know the Tarot off hand, but as the show went on I knew that sooner or later they’d run out of Tarot cards, and in my mind I assumed the season would be over when the Tarot ended. But then I got a good chuckle when a guy showed up and his powers were based on a totally different theme, because I knew the writer had realized he’d stumbled into something good and wasn’t ready to end it. He invented a cheap excuse to keep going! And I think if “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts” had been successful they’d have managed to unleash a whole lot more than thirteen ghosts because Hannah Barbera was not exactly a studio with a lot of shame.

Character conflicts like those in sitcoms are a great way to have conflict perpetually, because people don’t really change that much and there’s no reason why most of the fundamental friction shouldn’t be there indefinitely. But of course, character-driven conflict is going to be secondary in an event-driven show. “Jojo” actually does have a lot of character conflict, but the plot is primarily about the battles and the journey - if all the fighting ended Jojo’s characters probably couldn’t carry a sitcom, at least not without some serious hard work, a little genius, and a touch of elbow grease.

For event-driven conflict, you’ll want to establish a target - a moving target if you don't know when the story ends, and that can be pretty difficult. Old action shows and comics used to do it by having a rotating cast of villains, so that after one was defeated another would show up tomorrow, and it was assumed these guys regularly broke out of prison, or they escaped in rocket pods, or whatever, and they’d be back later with a new goofy scheme. In these cases you tend to find reactive heroes; they patrol the streets until a lunatic in tights and a garden-themed hat shows up and transforms everyone into people-shaped topiaries somehow.

For active heroes, you need to establish something that requires a lot of structure, like Ash’s journey to win the Poke’mon League. In every country he visits, they all have this asinine rule that you have to go to eight unique locations and kick the ass of someone who disadvantages themselves with an easily-countered mono team that all have the same exact weakness. You can’t be accepted into the League if you haven’t proven you own a water Poke’mon to utterly flatten the fire gym! Let’s be real, this nonsense is probably designed intentionally as a money gate - most people run out of cash before they qualify. Either way, it ends when Ash wins the league, and he lost the league so the show could keep going.

For roleplaying games, the same rules apply. With your players, you’re either going to establish a reactive goal - an adventuring guild hires a bunch of colorful salarymen with silly accents to go to a dungeon as part of their nine to five job - or you need players to set an active goal for themselves and keep the realization of that goal beyond their reach until you’re ready to end the game.

The Active Hero Acts

In my younger years, I learned to roleplay in almost exclusively player-driven games where we were expected to come up with our own goals and pursue them ourselves, but I’ve discovered that is stunningly rare in most roleplaying circles. Your typical D&D player likes to play the salaryman with a funny accent who doesn’t have to worry about the venturous part of adventure. His boss told him to go to the Cave of Everlasting Wonders and Torturous Screams, recover the Sword of Bad Portent, and then hand it over to the department of magic items where they’ll file the paperwork to get it delivered to the patron that wanted the sword for some reason. No need to have your own motives.

But what if you want to play a crime fighter who actually, you know, busts up all the crime? Clearly you can’t just wait for crime to happen passively - you’ve got to go after people. Act instead of being reactive. Purse snatchers are small time and in a more grounded setting the guys you’ll catch by being passive are just grunts being hired out by someone - usually kids in a lot of cases. You have to seek out the bosses.

Making an active character to fit into any setting can be challenging, and I’ve seen quite a few pitfalls. I think one of the funniest motives is always “the guy who wants to go home” due to its obvious failure condition. A lot of stories are about everymen who just want to get out of trouble, but those stories end when they get out of trouble! In many books, movies, shows, or roleplaying games, you’re almost always going to find opportunities to send that guy home, and you’ll have to either conveniently ignore it, switch motives and decide not to go home, or end the whole story with going home. These characters only work where the story is happening to them and it's all out of their control.

I’ve also seen my share of the “quirky genius inventor/scientist”. When someone designs a character mistaking a dream for a motive. They dream of building a better mouse trap, you see. That’s their inner conflict. And while this is a real world conflict, it’s difficult to make it a good story because actual science and invention involves a lengthy quantity of controlled experiments. You breed hundreds of fruit flies, expose them to nicotine, and try to isolate the gene that causes nicotine resistance. It can be fascinating work at its level but sometimes the most exciting part of your day is when you give yourself a steam burn cooking the fly food. The “quirky scientist” in fiction is usually more of a mentor, and if he insists on staying in his lab doing his work then he’s not even a main character - he’s a guy who explains fruit flies to the audience and then is never heard from again. Other times he’s the asshole who invented the story’s whole problem.

I once played in a game with “the quirky scientist who wants to go home”, and man was that a frustrating ride. The game itself was about occult magic and demons, and for most of the game the scientist was experimenting with teleportation magic to go home and was focused on that above the goal of finding and eradicating demons (the game’s premise). And when he finally met a boss demon that could teleport him home to his lab, he went! We wound up retiring a character who, to be honest, was barely even interested in the main subject of the story. Had he been in a film or a show, they’d have cut the character after the first draft because he served no purpose and wasted screen time.

So how do you make sure your character has a working, proactive goal, in a nutshell? Establish a goal that can be achieved by the character within the framework of your story through action by leaving his house (or after burning his house down so he can’t go home), and then make sure the goal is big enough that it will take many broad steps to get there - those steps need to be concrete and visible, not things that would happen off-screen. Most importantly, tie that goal into the main premise of the story, so that reaching the end of the story generally may achieve what the character wants.

If You Aren’t Trying, It’s Not A Trial

Okay, I understand that last bit probably requires more unpacking. But think of it this way. There’s a writing structure referred to as the “Hero’s Journey”. Basically it goes like this: the hero is forced into adventure, he meets friends and goes through trials, he hits his lowest point, he is reborn into a better man, he ends the conflict, story over.

What I’m talking about specifically right now are the trials. The “wacky inventor” is usually presumed to do all his research off screen because most media likes to focus on the results of the invention and the conflict. But if you were to focus on the trials of a scientist, it’d actually be about procuring research grants and potentially materials. You wouldn’t watch a show about a man who checks gene A-235 for nicotine resistance in flies, then goes on to A-236, then A-237.

If I were to write a story about a researcher, here’s one thing I might do: the researcher fails to find what he’s looking for in gene A-235, and when he goes to seek a grant to look at A-236, he finds one of his colleagues has convinced the university that the protagonist’s research is a dead end. Hearing this, the researcher realizes he’s about to lose his lab, so he writes a bit of a lie into his report on A-235. He says it may prevent cancer.

Now, the protagonist is, deep down, a good man. He thinks this will generate some buzz at the university and get him more funding, but he’ll do a follow-up and show the data doesn’t hold up. After that he’ll ask for money for A-236 and everything goes back to normal. But disaster strikes. His article, which was only supposed to show up in an obscure research journal, gets picked up by a major news network and winds up being spread all over. Suddenly he’s “the man who cured cancer”.

And as he’s trying to figure out how to navigate the issue, another researcher comes out and says that under peer review, he was able to replicate the results. He too shows that A-235 cures cancer! Now the hero isn’t sure. He becomes a celebrity and simply lies about his research because he has no real data, but try desperately as he might, in private he just can’t get the results the peer review insisted were there.

He struggles and struggles, coming to blows with his colleague who’s scrutinizing his research notes. Throw in a love interest who’s impressed with what this guy did, and actually I think I’ve just described the plot of some movie I saw a long time ago about faking cold fusion. I think Albert Einstein was a supporting character in it. In my version the twist would be the peer reviewer was also trying to get a grant by lying. Point is, the central conflict of the film certainly isn’t the scientific process, it’s all the crazy crap that happened on the way from point A to point B.

The story is in the trials. If nothing changes, if the character doesn’t have to change their way of life or go through anything special, it’s either not a story or it’s not your typical story. There are plenty of experimental films or well-regarded books that can make a certain banality become interesting. Stories that explain the simple struggles of day to day living for people on hard times. But the trials, the palpable challenges, that’s really the meat of it all. When you think of what your character should be doing throughout the story, he should be going through these efforts, these steps, these trials, all in the name of whatever his broader goal is.

Where You Start Affects Where You End

It also matters quite a lot when and where characters are introduced. A lot of tales follow some basic notes, and one of the more common elements is “crossing the threshold”, which prevents your characters from going back to their life before the adventure. It’s used because it compels the characters forward, as they have no other direction they can go. It can be anything: the character’s home town is destroyed, the character commits a crime, he accepts a contract, his mother dies - so long as it prevents him from going back. It’s especially useful in roleplaying games where you really need everyone to be driving forward.

In one such roleplaying game, I got in a spat with the guy who wanted to run the game because I was trying to make a leader character, but the game master wanted to base his game around a movie he’d seen with a single main character. He’d elected another player to be that main character, and explained to me he’d be starting the game after that character had already crossed the threshold and had begun his journey. This meant that everyone else were supporting cast and could go back to their normal lives at any time, because they were coming willingly from where they were and not really facing any drastic changes to their personal status quo.

I eventually resolved not to play in that game at all, because none of the character dynamics I wanted were going to work. It was supposed to be a “wannabe” superhero game, with the premise that everyone wanted to be heroes, except one player had already started the journey and it turned out another had already reached the end of that arc and was going to play a character that had been a hero going on years before the story began. There was no plan to really reconcile the narrative clashes.

If that game were to work as it was, without me being present, then the person playing the pre-established hero would have needed to take the mentor role. The other players besides the main character would have needed to be comfortable in auxiliary roles, and the group would have to play as though they were part-way into the story. Still learning to be a team but well past the initial stages of a plot, and they’d all need to think up reasons to be in this group individually on their own, because the threshold had already been crossed and they didn’t cross it together.

The friend running the game was actually dismissive of my advice here, arguing that I was overcomplicating everything with a meta analysis of narrative and structure when all we need is a basic drive to play, and I don’t think he realized he’d set himself up with a much more complicated game and less cohesive premise by going about things as he had.

The already established hero couldn’t be the mentor because a mentor character had already been created as an NPC. The auxiliary players weren’t really informed at the outset they’d be auxiliaries - especially not me who’d wanted to play the team leader. The player who’d been designated as the central protagonist didn’t want to lead or be the central protagonist. It could have worked, but it would have taken a lot more planning and many more concessions than a typical game.

In a more recent game, I’ve got another bit of an issue with the start misleading the general goals of the players. It’s a sci-fi game, and first, one player is doing “the quirky inventor scientist”; his current stated dream is vaguely to create transhumanist technology. He also wants to play the leader, so he established himself as the most important man nobody has ever heard of. He has spies in every major institution in the known galaxy and is a genius beyond comparison. He’s currently based in a rusting pirate ship in the middle of the space boonies doing nothing with his life save being the most important man.

Meanwhile, I set up a disgraced military officer with a revenge quest against his own nation. But the pirate crew my character joined turned out to not believe in structure nor leadership and they killed their last commander to have a system of “democracy”. My structure-minded character has tried to take the lead and drive us forward, but he runs into general deconstructive resistance and the “quirky scientist” wants to be the leader, but hasn’t yet expressed self-motivated goals.

It’s not exactly my most harmonious game and there’s quite a lot going wrong here, but here’s how it could have worked: first, establishing that the crew of the pirates respects no leadership places the entire crew in the precarious position of being “chickenshit” at the outset. That kind of incohesiveness is why a band of rogues gets easily defeated; it’s not the behavior of scrappy men of action, but hopeless men of inaction. A corrupted “democracy” collectivises failure while awarding success to whoever actually has the most power in the group structure - it protects the weak leaders from responsibility and disincentivizes good work by allowing those same men to reap rewards while offloading the burdens to those lower on the ladder. In essence, “If things are screwed up, blame the democracy. If things are good, I did it.”

What should have happened was the “quirky scientist” should have been in charge to start with, because otherwise he has no reason to be on board the ship. He’s the most powerful man in the galaxy, after all. If it were because he was financing the pirates to go on raiding and salvage missions relevant to his research, then it would make sense. He’d have a purpose and a position of leadership just as the player wanted. It would also establish the pirates have some command structure and a level of respect for it that allows them to function.

And the power struggle between the disgraced officer and the scientist? Perfectly reasonable character conflict that would drive actual, meaningful roleplaying and story. The scientist may bankroll the operation but the officer is the tactical talent and the two pull in opposite directions, as power-hungry men often do.

However, the opportunity to start with a sensible and meaningful social dynamic has passed, and on top of that the “quirky scientist” keeps his galaxy-wide power a secret, so it’s all kind of messy and “badly written” in the sense that most audiences would be generally rooting for the crew to fail, and they’d find the grand reveal of the scientist’s galactic power to be frustrating and unrewarding because it’s more of a plot hole than anything. So close on so many counts and yet so very far, and the opportunity to pull it together eventually is present but a more challenging and uphill battle than getting it right at the outset.

In The End, Did We Even Learn Anything?

Creating a character is easy, in my opinion. Creating a working story with a group of self-driven characters can be a lot harder. This is especially true of roleplaying games or of cooperation with multiple writers, where you need to be on the same general page with a committee. It can help a lot to establish the exact conflicts at the beginning, but as can be seen with Winston from “New Girl” or the later seasons of “My Little Pony”, what you have can morph beyond your control as things go on.

Sometimes you never had control in the first place. Sometimes you lose control because you conclude the original conflict of your story and struggle to find a new one - the brand is too successful to let go. Maybe an executive comes in and injects an idea that throws the entire balance of everything totally out of whack and now nothing works. Sometimes your friend thinks story structure is overrated. It’s a difficult juggling act.

So at the end of this essay did we even learn anything? It depends a lot on what you’re trying to do and what you wanted to learn. If you’re the more typical Dungeons and Dragons group, you don’t need to think much about this. Just make your characters and passively react to activities handed out by Dungeons, Dungeons & Co - your conflict is event-driven. Are you writing a sitcom? Well, balance a tangled web of conflicting character habits and write the ensuing disaster. Want to make a complex film about a group of highly motivated, proactive people with sophisticated individual goals that ultimately converge while still respecting their rich, conflicting, inner politics, and do all that writing as part of a team? Well, good goddamn luck, but with the right start and enough care you can make it happen.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

don’t you know that the kids aren’t alright

A/N: this is my first prompt fill for the @badthingshappenbingo! And not only that, but it is my first non-Sanders Sides fic in a long time! Some of you may not know this, but I am a huge Star Wars nerd, and I really adore Star Wars: Rebels. I also really adore the dynamic between Ezra and Sabine, and while this fic in particular is platonic/familial ezrabine, but it could be romantic if you squint! Also, this fic is a slight scene rewrite of “Always Two There Are” bc my thought whenever watching scenes with characters in peril is “oh they could have done this SO much more angstier”

Prompt Used: “Choking”

Warnings: interrogation, violence, death mention (no one actually dies though), choking 

-

Ezra stubbornly stared down the Seventh Sister. Her red blade hovered close to his throat, but he refused to tell her anything. How did the Inquisitors even know about Ahsoka?! As far as Ezra and the other rebels knew, the Empire shouldn’t have been aware of her- but that clearly was no longer the case.

“What has the boy revealed?” a voice asked. Ezra’s gaze shot over to see the Fifth Brother, with Sabine in tow. He shoved her forward, and she fell to her hands and knees beside Ezra.

“Nothing I wish to share. Contact your friends and bring them here, that’s all I ask,” the Seventh Sister demanded. 

“Let me think about that… ah- no,” Ezra replied, pretending to ponder his answer before glaring at the Seventh Sister.

“Contact your friends,” the Seventh Sister repeated evenly, leveling her lightsaber at him. Ezra grit his teeth in frustration.

“I’m not talking to you right now. Sabine, where’s Zeb?” Ezra asked, turning to her with a questioning look.

“We tried to fight, but Zeb never had a chance,” she replied, regret crossing her features. Ezra’s stomach dropped.

“What are you saying?” he asked, refusing to accept what Sabine was implying.

“Your friend is dead,” the Seventh Sister said with a soft, yet morbid sense of glee. Ezra’s eyes widened, and he would have leapt to his feet if not for the Seventh’s Sister’s lightsaber still being held threateningly towards him.

“No! He can’t be- you’re lying! Sabine, she’s gotta be lying!” he cried out, looking to Sabine again. She only frowned, shaking her head sadly.

“I don’t know, Ezra,” she replied, her shaking voice just barely a whisper.

“He’s dead, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Now for the last time- contact your friends!” she demanded, shifting her lightsaber away from Ezra to instead reach out towards him with the Force once more. Ezra grit his teeth, trying to block out the tendrils of the Force trying to latch into his mind.

“No,” he groaned out, glaring at the Seventh Sister. Her mouth set in a firm line as she pushed harder with the Force. Ezra let out a pained groan as he writhed against her attempt to control him, refusing to let her in.

“Augh! Enough of this,” she muttered, dropping her hand. Ezra let out a shuddering breath, slumping against the control panel slightly. Sabine looked at him with concern, looking like she wanted to do nothing more than reach out and comfort him, but didn’t want to risk agitating the Inquisitors. The Seventh Sister seemed to notice Sabine’s impulse to rush to Ezra’s aid, and a cruel smirk curled her lips. She turned to the Fifth Brother, giving him a curt nod. A malicious grin split his face, and Sabine was suddenly pulled up and away from Ezra. The Fifth Brother made a clenching motion with his hand, and a strangled gasp escaped Sabine as her hands leapt to her throat, trying to pry away hands that weren’t there.

“Sabine!” Ezra cried out, eyes wide with horror as Sabine struggled in midair, choked-off sounds escaping her as she tried to breathe.

“Contact the rebels, or you will lose another one of your companions,” the Fifth Brother growled.

“Ezra…” Sabine managed to gasp out before the Fifth Brother clenched his hand tighter. Ezra couldn’t tell if Sabine had been pleading with him to help her, or to call their friends, and he found himself more or less paralyzed with fear. If he did nothing, Sabine would die. If he called Kanan or Hera for help, so many more would die. Luckily, Ezra didn’t have to make a choice, as his comlink suddenly beeped.

“Hello, Spectre 6. Come in. Do you read? This is Commander Mayloorun,” Zeb’s voice came, and Ezra barely managed to stifle his relief at hearing the Lasat’s voice. The Fifth Brother’s brow furrowed, and he let Sabine fall to the ground. She landed on her hands and knees, one hand massaging her throat slightly as she took in gasps of air.

“Answer him,” the Fifth Brother demanded, his hand still outstretched towards Sabine threateningly.

“Y-yes, Commander Mayloorun, I can hear you,” Ezra said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“You missed your check-in. Am I correct in assuming mechanical difficulties have got your craft stranded again and you are in need of help with repairs?” Zeb’s voice came. Ezra swallowed nervously, unsure of how to reply- or if he even should reply. The Fifth Brother seemed displeased with Ezra’s hesitation, as he ignited his lightsaber and pointed it at Sabine.

“Answer him,” the Seventh Sister encouraged, seeming like she was trying to suppress a smirk at Ezra and Sabine’s predicament. Ezra’s mouth twisted into a frown.

“I- I wouldn’t say we’re stranded again…” Ezra trailed off, trying to seem lighthearted. The Fifth Brother grit his teeth together, grabbed Sabine by her head and pulled her up to her feet. He moved his blade to hover near her throat, and Ezra internally cursed his moment of cockiness.

“But then again, maybe we could use some help. Bring Kanan and… better bring Ahsoka too,” Ezra continued, hoping his answer would satisfy the Inquisitors. Fortunately, they were, and the Fifth Brother sheathed his lightsaber, and shoved Sabine towards Ezra.

“Very well. Meet you in Bay 6. And don't worry, we'll fix everything. Just keep your chin up and it'll all be fine,” Zeb replied through the comlink. Ezra and Sabine exchanged nervous looks. Just what was Zeb planning?

-

As it turned out, Zeb’s plan worked out pretty well. After detaching the Phantom from the ceiling and scooping up Sabine and Ezra, they hightailed it out of the old medical station and back to the Ghost. They told Kanan the distressing news of not one, but two Inquisitors, and after that, it was reporting the events of the mission to Commander Sato.

Ezra wandered down the main corridor towards the cockpit on the Ghost. He stopped in front of Sabine’s door, and before he could decide against it, he walked in. He saw Sabine sitting on the seat below her bunk, hands idly fiddling with a near-empty can of spray paint. Ezra grimaced when he noticed the faint bruising around her neck, but shook it off and tried for his usual lopsided grin.

“You’re gonna spray that thing in your face if you aren’t careful,” he teased, relieved when it got a light laugh out of Sabine.

“Might spray it in your face if you aren’t careful,” she teased back with a smile- but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Ezra frowned, unsure if he should get closer to her or just leave Sabine alone.

“Are you okay?” he blurted, seemingly against his will. Sabine hesitated, one hand absentmindedly going to her throat. She dropped the hand as soon as she had brought it up, letting out a sigh.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sabine said, her eyes meeting Ezra’s. Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a shaky sigh before opening them again, refusing to meet Sabine’s gaze.

“How is it not my fault?! The Inquisitors are after me, and Kanan- and Ahsoka too! And they hurt you to try and get to me- if Zeb hadn’t called… I don’t know what I would have done,” Ezra rambled, voice strained.

“You’re just a kid, Ez. You shouldn’t have to be put in situations like that,” Sabine replied softly.

“You’re not that much older than me,” Ezra pointed out. In any other situation, the phrase would have sounded indignant coming from Ezra. But in this case? He was the most solemn he had ever been. They were both kids, really. Kids hopelessly intertwined in a galaxy-wide war.

“I guess you have a point- but I’m not gonna stop fighting the Empire,” Sabine said firmly, her gaze almost challenging Ezra to doubt her.

“Didn’t say you had to. And I don’t plan on stopping either,” Ezra replied defiantly. Sabine chuckled, shaking her head fondly.

“I’ve never really thought about how crazy this all really is,” Sabine huffed out with a sigh.

“Yeah… but hey, at least we’ve got each other, right?” Ezra asked, looking to Sabine semi-sheepishly. She set down the spray paint, then got up and walked over to Ezra so that she could ruffle his hair fondly.

“Of course, Ez- I’ll always fight for you, and I know you’ve got my back too. That’s how family works.”

[cheetahsprints]

Schoolyard Gossip

Prompt: Little Homeschool

Summary: Peridot learns that Little Homeschool has a thriving rumor mill, and she's the latest victim. Meanwhile, Amethyst stakes a claim which may cost what she wants most.

Words: 2181 

Peridot dances in place as her Botany & Permaculture class comes to a close. She's headed to teach Meep Morp - or as it's registered, 'Sculpting & Making Art with Items' - Class next, but that isn't the source of her excitement. Almost immediately, she spots Amethyst. She finishes inhaling her fries, probably fresh from the boardwalk. They fall into step, chatting and laughing. Her next destination is baseball practice. This is a usual part of their routine.

However, something new happens. A warm purple hand slightly bigger than her own engulfs hers. Warmth spreads to her core. For a moment, she blames it on the sun emerging from the cloud. Logically, she knows her hard light projection isn't so affected. She's glad she doesn't have organs, or they'd be clumsily somersaulting. For years, she wondered if she was imagining the spark growing between them.

These days, Amethyst's time is quite full - at least compared to before. It's such a reward, teaching and guiding gems. The memory of the pride in Pearl's eyes when she said she wanted to have a part in her still makes her giddy. It's great to put her Earth culture knowledge to good use. Steven was a harder case, with the nerve to doubt her. 

She chalked it up to personal issues - he was used to helping in a certain way. That boy was lost… anyone could see it, but Amethyst was clueless about how to get him out of the funk. She does have free time to hang out with her fellow OGs - as they've been nicknamed by formerly corrupted gems, never mind that they were Crystal Gems during the war while Amethyst was incubating - as well as the new gems she's come to consider family. She's even taken up art lessons, suggested by her old friend Vidalia, and encouraged by her current crush, Peridot.

Yet, none of that is so exciting as the time between Earth Stuff 101 and Baseball practice. That is when she gets to enjoy her walk and talk with Peridot. She can see Peridot enjoys Little Homeschool just as much as she does, if not more. Peridot is basically the poster child of Reformed Gem, and she wears it loud and proud. Amethyst doesn't always completely follow the topic Peridot is on, but she appreciates that Peridot gives her a chance, expects her to be smarter than Amethyst makes it seem - truth is, she is more knowledgeable than she lets on. Stars forbid anyone think she's a nerd! 

In any case, Amethyst does follow the way Peridot's eyes light up when she's passionate. She doesn't miss her wide grins, showing off pointed canine-esque teeth that seems a common trait among green, yellow, and orange gems. She loses herself in Peridot's charming, if dorky, laughter. She tracks the movements of Peridot's fingers when she's frustrated, dragging them through her hair or gnawing them. Today she can't resist breaking the bubble and grasping her hand. She does resist the urge to grab her alluring behind. That wouldn't track unless they were explicitly a couple.

Peridot wouldn't have expected holding Amethyst's hand to be a revelation, but it is. This is just where she wants to be. She doesn't want it to end. Inevitably they reach a literal crossroads where they must part ways for now. For the rest of the day, it's difficult to focus. She has to mentally rebuke herself several times and endure instances of Lapis and others raising an eyebrow at her. She rubs her hand that held Amethyst's with the other, trapped in disbelief. 

Was it just two friends being friendly and platonically holding hands… does she dare read into it?

Browsing the internet and her own mental database of romantic information is neither helpful or productive. The history is too confusing. It reminds her of the time she briefly thought Amethyst was jealous of Lapis, after Pearl let slip everyone thought they were dating - first of all, ew, Peridot shudders at the memory of drowning those rumors - only for it to turn out Amethyst's was preoccupied with Jasper, resulting in a grim attitude. 

Overall, Peridot has a terrible history of being able to read Amethyst. She'd have better luck with Garnet. Nonetheless, as the weeks pass, the hand holding becomes part of the routine. Though exhilarating, it has downsides. It's distracting for one, and Peridot is certain she saw student gems pointing and whispering. It comes to a head in class at the end of the week.

"So, who can tell me the importance of bees in agriculture?"

To Peridot's pleasant surprise, one of the gems near the back, a known slacker, raises her hand. Peridot points, and instant regret is the result.

"You and Professor Amethyst are a thing right? I have a bet with a Nephrite who doesn't believe me!"

Peridot glares at the Quartz, indignant. "My social life is none of your business. However, as it stands, I am certainly not seeing anyone in a romantic capacity."

Kunzite sees fit to chime in, "With respect, that's coprolite. I asked the same of Amethyst yesterday, and she said, and I quote, ya darn right, that's my girl and don't forget it."

Peridot's eye twitches, her stone well chipped. What kind of sick joke is this? Amethyst is supposed to be her friend. Sure she's given to pranks, part of what Peridot adores about her, but this is too much. It's embarrassing to be contradicting and upsetting because it's not true. In love with her or not, she's going to kill Amethyst. Grinding her teeth she manages, "You. Did not. Get called on. Or raise your hand. Thus your comment will be ignored and stricken from the log."

"There's a log?"

"Silence!"

Peridot releases her class early, all the better to prepare for the confrontation soon. Unfortunately, traversing the grounds turns out to be a task. Every gem that crosses her path has to give their opinion, as the word of the exaggerated relationship between her and Amethyst has already spread like wildfire.

When Amethyst reaches for Peridot's hand, Peridot yanks away from her with a borderline snarl. It cuts deep. Did she mess up already? Amethyst has been taking it as slow as possible despite the screaming desire within her - or rather because of it. Peridot is careful and easily startled, like a deer. With her, it was two steps forward and twenty steps backward if you weren't cautious. 

Amethyst notes that Peridot is tense enough to be shaking. An old stream of self loathing enters Amethyst's consciousness, but she redirects it with reason. She'll hear out Peridot before she jumps to blaming herself. It might just be -

"I'm setting a boundary," Peridot claims, her volume wince inducing. "You are not to lie about my love life AS A JOKE. That is private, not to mention a hurtful breach of trust!"

- a misunderstanding. Amethyst recoils as though struck by the force of Peridot's accusation. Puzzled, she mumbles, "Uh, what? Sorry, no idea what you're getting at, Dot." In the past she would've been incensed at the implication, but she maintains a relaxed air. 

If she fumes too, Peridot's ire is likely to become an inferno.

Peridot takes a sharp inhale. She barks, "Don't play dumb, I know you're not. WHY DID YOU TELL KUNZITE WE'RE DATING? I can't walk a meter without getting congratulated or someone making a comment!"

"Wha -"

Amethyst squints, checking that Peridot's gem isn't cracked. Wasn't she mad about her spreading lies? Amethyst points at her saying, "If you wanted it to be a secret, you should've mentioned it, and not held my hand in public."

"YOU - WHAT - I -"

Many gems have stopped to take in the scene. Peridot notices them and her cheeks darken. She digs her fingers into her hair in a way that would be adorable, under circumstances where her aggravation wasn't directed at Amethyst.

Peridot seems to gather her thoughts and promptly explodes. "YOU SEEM TO BE UNDER THE IMPRESSION WE'RE TOGETHER! I DON'T RECALL GETTING THE MEMO, AMETHYST!"

"Instead I get this information from a gem in my class - unbelievable," Peridot finishes, her voice soft and cracking by the end. "This prank has gone too far."

Amethyst actually has to clamp her hands on either side of her head to suppress the onslaught. It takes a moment, past the slight ringing and giggles from the peanut gallery, to register what she said. Amethyst moves her hands to rub her own face, uncertain if she wants to scream, laugh, cry, or some combination of the three. She remembers before the whole Pink Diamond revelation, when it seemed dangerous to hope. That fear didn't dissipate until the corrupted gems were healed. 

Now it seems, she had gotten ahead of herself and wrecked the train.

"Peri - Peridot, listen I -" 

Amethyst stares hard at the ground, unable to meet Peridot's angry eyes. "It's not a joke. I thought my feelings for you were obvious, I just didn't want to - to push it, to scare you away. I swear I didn't mean to hurt you."

A few tears slip. She swiftly wipes them away, sniffling. When she dares to look up, Peridot is staring at her, lips parted. Peridot is aghast, thrown by what just occurred. She was embarrassed at being played for a fool, now she's ashamed of her indiscreet outbursts. She was seconds away from demanding an apology. She wants to drop down and beg forgiveness.

She grabs Amethyst by the wrist and sprints to her greenhouse. It's guaranteed empty for a while, allowing them privacy that Peridot should've granted in the first place. She stutters for a bit as her mind races faster than her tongue can keep pace.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that in front of everyone. Argh! I'm such a clod!" Peridot hugs one of the potted plants to her chest and gazes at Amethyst, beseeching. "I don't know what's going on anymore, what are we?"

Amethyst reaches for her, hesitates, then drops her arm. Had Peridot possessed insides, they would've turned to dust at that. Amethyst says, "I accept your apology, I know how proud you are and I get why you lost it like that - I shouldn't have assumed. I - I didn't think we were dating yet exactly, but you didn't have a problem with us holding hands… I just… I didn't want anyone to think you were - but I didn't have the right -"

Realization striking, Peridot interrupts, "You were afraid someone would make a move, before you got the chance to take the next step."

"Yeah! But that was the wrong way to handle it. I should've talked to you instead of er -" Amethyst snorts. "Marking my territory, as it were."

Peridot frowns. Words are hard, feelings are hard. Once upon a time, Peridot wouldn't be able to have this type of conversation without some kind of intermediary. She takes a second to marvel at how far she's come before continuing to explain.

"Regardless, my reaction was overblown. I - it was painful, the implication when it wasn't reality, so I thought. It was jarring enough that a tasteless joke seemed in the higher percentile of probability than the idea that you were… more or less telling the truth," Peridot explains.

Amethyst blurts, "Can I hug you?"

Peridot opens her arms, and Amethyst rushes forward. Peridot notes that she's careful to hold back in order to avoid knocking them over along with the table behind Peridot. She relaxes into the embrace, relief coming over her. When Amethyst's arms loosen, Peridot shifts to press her lips to Amethyst's gemstone. Amethyst strokes her back.

"Hopefully the students will stick their noses elsewhere after that mess."

"Don't worry about the gossip line, I've got a little hook about a certain Pearl and her new squeeze I can cast as a distraction," Amethyst claims.

"I can still be your girl, if you still want that," Peridot murmurs.

Amethyst's eyes are shining. "Of course I do, ya nerd.

Peridot sighs, tilting her head as a fond smile invades her visage. 

"At least my critical cognition isn't weighed down by exponential density as compared to my stone."

Amethyst blinks, processing her 'peri-phrasing' as she dubbed it. Her expression melts into understanding, then flashes into false rage. "Oh really? You can run but you can't hide!"

Amethyst lunges at her. Peridot uses her power to smack Amethyst square in the face with a trowel and makes good her escape. She dives under the nearest table, army crawling her way to the exit. Her hair gets tussled, but it's the least of her concerns. Amethyst bellows a battle cry, summoning her whip in Peridot's peripheral vision. Peridot reverts to sprinting on all fours, while Amethyst races after her laughing and cracking her whip. Chasing down her favorite green geek-mobile, Amethyst muses that the scene is sure to cause a lot of speculation.

[their-name-is-morgan]

Is it okay if I ask for a Fugo first kiss scenario? The Mista one was so cute TvT

Credo di amarti

Fugo x Reader First Kiss Scenario❤

“Panni,” they called, he stopped writing and turned his head in their direction, “Can we go to the school library later? I need to get a few books.”

Y/N and Fugo had been best friends for a long time, they were the first friend he made as soon as he went back to school to finish his studies and live a partially normal life. They’d known each other for almost two years and the rest of their group was convinced that they were a couple, by the way they’d act around each other and blush when the other’s name was mentioned.

He nodded and collected all his papers and notes, putting them in his backpack one by one.

“Why not go now? I’m done with this stuff anyway, I was just making sure it was in order,” He smiled at their soft and happy expression, their cute dimples showing as their lips curved upwards as well.

“Ah, thank you so much! You see, I have to read this book for one of my classes, but another teacher told us to read something too-“

As they made their way towards the class’ door to head to the library, he couldn’t help but almost, and I’d like to emphasise, almost –he still tried his best to concentrate on what they were saying- get lost in their eyes and in the way they moved their hands as they spoke, and their expression shifted from a happy one to an annoyed one when they started to explain what the most boring book’s plot was.

“I can read with you if you want, doing things together always makes it easier, it works for reading too!”

“Honestly that would be awesome, at least you make interesting observations and you can remind me stuff I forget about,” he felt his cheeks get warmer at the compliment, but he arched an eyebrow at their statement nonetheless, his smile never leaving his face.

“Is that so?  Then I’ll be glad to help you,”

When they reached the quite large library, nobody was there but the librarian; the tables and chairs were clean and unoccupied, and the same goes for the beanbag chairs which everyone would usually sit on to read a book or do homework and be comfortable at the same time.

“So what books did you need again?” he asked,

“Let’s search for To Kill a Mockingbird first, I heard it’s good so it shouldn’t be as boring as the others, right?” he eagerly nodded, guiding them to the right section where he was sure they would’ve found it easily.

“It is very good, I actually read it already and I was planning to read it again! I can explain a little bit of it if you want?”

“Hey, no spoilers! I know you’re a book nerd though,” they maliciously smiled, and he rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“That means I’ll explain everything as you read, then.”

They started searching through the books, Y/N almost falling off the small stairs that they were using to reach higher shelves, and Fugo complaining about how someone must’ve had changed the order of the books and authors, messing everything up and making it more difficult to find a specific book.

After searching through various books and shelves they finally managed to find the book in question, and decided that it would’ve been better to start reading that one before getting the others (and wasting more time looking for them).

Y/N sat on a blue beanbag while Fugo sat on a dark purple one, leaning towards his friend so he could see what they were reading and eventually explain things that they couldn’t understand. Y/N, however, found themselves making more observations instead of asking questions as the book wasn’t difficult to read –and the fact that they were sitting so close to Fugo probably helped them put more effort into reading than usual-.

Fugo was about to ask them at which paragraph they were when he noticed the young librarian walking towards them, the sky outside the window behind her clear and with not even a trace of a cloud in sight. He straightened up and so did Y/N.

“It’s getting pretty late, you should probably head home,” she said, gentleness in her tone.

“What time is it, if I may ask?” Fugo asked, aware that the library would’ve closed at 5:30 in the afternoon. Students weren’t allowed to walk around the school freely until then, but they could read or do homework in the library.

“It’s 5, you’ve been here for almost two hours,”

“Thanks miss, we’ll go home soon,” Y/N stated, closing the book and putting it on her lap. Their friend nodded in agreement and the young lady walked away with a kind smile.

They both sighed, then exchanged a look.

“Time always flies when... when I’m with you.” He spoke, keeping his voice almost in a whisper. They furrowed one eyebrow, not quite catching what he had just said.

“Did you say something?” His breathing immediately became rapid and shallow and his cheeks tinted bright red, they didn’t need to know what he had said at that point, they figured that it was something embarrassing so they decided not to push him any further, “Ah, nevermind! By the way thanks for spending the afternoon with me, it’s always fun to read with you,”

He gazed at them, his fingers just a few inches away from brushing theirs. He wasn’t sure how to act; he’d never been in a relationship before, and he wasn’t used to showing affection, so naturally he had no idea what were the right moments to show it. Would he have ruined the moment by holding their hand to help them up? Would it have been inappropriate to be affectionate like that, out of the blue?

“No problem really, it was my pleasure. I’m free tomorrow, so we can do this again... if you want,”

They eagerly nodded, and as they gathered their things –their phone, a water bottle and a pencil case- and they turned to face him, their eyes locked with his. Something about the empty library and the fact that they were the only ones there except for the librarian made the atmosphere romantic and intimate, and silence fell upon them before Y/N decided to break it.

“Panni, I know I might sound out of place since we came here to read? But the rumours about us, and about me having a crush on you...” he carefully listened, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of said rumours, “...they’re true. Even when we do simple things like I don’t know, reading together, or when we have lunch together... I feel happy and- I thought I’d tell you now that we’re alone. I’m sorry if I was too blunt,”  they finished, their hands trembling and their cheeks and ears crimson.

The colour of Fugo’s cheeks probably matched the one of the buttoned up shirt he was wearing, too, and he found himself at a loss of words. He always had something to say, but their confession had left him speechless and all he could manage to do was take a deep breath. As their expression shifted into a sad one, he found the courage to speak,

“I- thank you so much, I’m... so glad you feel the same way. I wanted to tell you but, I wasn’t sure how,” he hesitated, and they kindly smiled at him to encourage him, “I was wondering if it’s okay...for me to hold your hand?”

They chuckled at his inexperience and intertwined their fingers with his, at which he chuckled himself and blushed even harder, if possible. Their gaze unconsciously fell upon his lips, and he took notice of this. He’d always been observant. He tentatively leaned forward, a small gasp escaping from Y/N’s slightly parted lips.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his grip on their hand tightening due to nervousness. They shifted closer to him, so close that their foreheads could touch.

“It is. It’s just...I’ve never kissed anyone before,”

“Me neither. I think we talk too much,”

They chuckled, and then their lips finally met. It was kind of sloppy at first, but they eventually found their rhythm; they cupped his reddened cheek with their free hand and he leaned into the touch, one would’ve lied if they said that he wasn’t touch starved. He too used his free hand to pull them closer, deepening the kiss and allowing a small moan to escape from his lips.

They unwillingly separated and softly gasped for air, hoping that the librarian wasn’t anywhere nearby, their hearts beating faster than usual. Fugo brought his long, bony fingers to his lips and touched them, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I don’t think...that I have a crush on you. It’s more like I love you,” Y/N confessed, their gaze soft. Fugo couldn’t help but feel the same way.

“I think I might love you back, sei la prima persona che amo in questo modo.”

They didn’t dare to let go of each other’s hand, too busy finally telling each other how they’d felt for a very long time. Fugo mentioned how their friends were probably going to be happy for them but not surprised in the slightest, at which they agreed with a laugh.

The time to place the book back on its shelf and go back home came, the two young students not willing to part ways just yet once outside of the building. Fugo went through his mental agenda and hummed when he realized that he wasn’t going anywhere later, and there wasn’t going to be anybody else at home but him.

“You can come to my place- if you want and if you’re free, of course,”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, lead the way!”

[xfanfics]

Destiel Fic Rec List Part 5

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity.  Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 32 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

 _____

Casturbatus Interruptus by gaugbrojotr E | 6k | Canon!verse, Hot, , PWP

post-9.01, in a slight AU wherein Cas comes to live with the Winchesters at the Bunker. Written before 9.03. Crossposting from Tumblr. Written for a prompt from hightopsandsharpies: "Okay, so Cas is a virgin, and has no idea what pleasure is and Dean decides to show him and Cas gets all cuddly and needy afterwards. Dean walks in on Cas masturbating. He’s doing it all wrong, but when you’re a bazillion-year-old virgin, that’s to be expected. Dean decides to lend him a hand in a totally platonic, non-romantic way. Things get a little out of control.

 that awkward moment when... by highermagic E | 7k | Hot, wing!Kink

All in all, with a full tank of gas and his radio turned up loud, Dean was in a pretty damn good mood. All that vanished into shock and concern when the sky lit up like daylight, as though someone had decided that black was so passé for nighttime.

 This Temporary Flesh and Bone by misachan E | 5k | Canon!verse, h/c, wing!kink

Castiel doesn't serve Dean, fine, Dean has no problem with that - he just wants to know why Castiel's showing up in his dreams again.

What a fabulous little Fic. Very emotional. S4 cas is my FAVORITE.

 Only Fools Rush In by baka_sensei E | 18k | Canon!verse, soulbond

Dean does something and in angelic tradition that means he's become Castiel's fiancé. Dean doesn't know if he wants to get married, but he doesn't want to let Castiel down either. Cas lets his feelings run away with him, Gabe is a total dick, Sam is concerned, and Dean has to make a choice.

 Learning Curve by blualbino T | 1k | Fluff, Canon!verse

Cas has nice lips. They’re soft looking. Plush even. Dean can do this.

 Dinner At Katz's by nanoochka E | 2k | Hot, canon!verse

Dean might have to teach Cas how to have a When Harry Met Sally-esque orgasm, but he certainly doesn’t have to fake it.

 Free With His Hands by watermaline E | 2k | canon!verse, handprint!kink

The first time it happens, Dean chalks it up to…well, he doesn’t chalk it up to anything, he’s too busy coming his brains out in his jeans with Castiel’s hand on his shoulder.

 Desecrate that Sanctuary by brokentoy E | 3k | Hot, Alt!Canon Verse

Dean develops a fascination with Cas' bones.

 What Once Was Sacred by saltandbyrne E | 55k |  Hot,  AU, Cop Dean, DJ Cas

Los Angeles detective Dean Winchester works tirelessly to atone for the sins of his father one case at a time. When his best friend Charlie drags him to visit Sam at his new job, Dean stumbles onto a bizarre string of deaths that brings him uncomfortably close to his past.Dean can't stop thinking about Castiel, an enigmatic DJ who plays the sexiest music Dean's ever heard. A chance encounter at Castiel's house reveals that Castiel is an incubus, and Dean must face the lies and the reality of his childhood as a hunter. Dean comes to see that he and Castiel have more in common than he thought, and that guilt can be the hardest thing to cast aside.

Freefall by LastKnownWriter E | 128k | Hot, Fluff,  AU, Teacher Dean, Firefighter Cas

AU. The most exciting kindergarten teacher Dean Winchester's life ever gets is when he plays mechanic in his uncle Bobby's shop on the weekends. That is until a birthday party goes tequila-nova and he trips into a one-night stand with an incredibly hot firefighter named Castiel. Dean's life gets a lot more exciting after that.

 The Best Years of Our Lives, My Ass ❤ by ireallyhatecornnuts E | 110k | Hot,  Fluff,  HS AU but not really,

AU after Season 8, episode 6, "Southern Comfort." Dean goes to sleep in a motel room in Texarkana, and he wakes up 17 years old, in his childhood bedroom in Lawrence, Kansas, 1996. He has no idea how he got there, why his parents are still alive, why his brother is an adorable freshman with no memory of his adult life, and why the only ally he has in this place is the angel he left behind in Purgatory – somehow also 17 years old. They have to get out, that's the important thing. Only, falling in love with his angel wasn't a part of the plan....

It's like a HS AU... but better! I love how Dean is given a second chance at growing up, and Cas gets to engage with his humanity is painfully familiar ways. Some homophobia from non-central characters.    

 deus ex nihilo by Valyria E | 7k | AU, dubcon, god cas

Lost on an uncharted island, Dean Winchester is captured by the local villagers and offered up as a sacrifice to their winged god. Castiel takes one look at Dean and decides he wants him for a mate.

 Twist and Shout ❤ by gabriel E | 97k | Angst,  AU, Main Character Death

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

Do I really need to say anything? Twist and Shout is one of my favorites simply because it made me bawl. Didn't love the characterization, but I still liked it overall.

Carry On ❤ by TamrynEradani E | 148k | Hot,  AU, Sub!dean, Dom!Cas

 When Sam gets into Stanford, Dean needs a bigger paycheck than Bobby's garage can give him. Luckily, he knows a guy.

Forget 50 Shades of Grey, they should make this fic into a movie! Even if you are not a fan of Sub!Dean, give this fic a shot, because it is nearly perfect.    

Glasses by Samanthapin E | 9k | Fluff, High School AU, punk!cas, nerd!dean

Teasing turns flirting turns dating turns grossly soppy boyfriends

 beer and bacon happy hour by outpastthemoat G | 2k | canon!verse, s8

The problem is that Dean’s been having good ideas all night. “No one insults the trenchcoat,” Dean says, and drives his fist into the other dude’s face. Dean figures he was bound to run out of good ideas eventually.

 Hard Road ❤ by aleishapotter E | 54k | Canon!verse

Dean discovers a few truths about himself when he and Cas are forced to go undercover on a hunt to the very last place Dean ever thought he'd find himself: a gay resort called "Last Hope" that is geared towards helping troubled homosexual couples repair their relationships. This fic is hilarious and hot--my favorite things.  

 Dean Smith Verse by TamrynEradani E | 17k | Hot,  BDSM, AU, Sub!Dean

Dean Smith is a man of routine. Castiel takes him apart.

Bratishka: Little Brother by Valyria E | 33k | Cop AU, Cop Dean, Lawyer Cas

Dean thinks he knows pretty much everything there is to know about his best friend Castiel Novak - he's a smart, gorgeous DA who probably lets Dean get away with more than he should to see the bad guy locked up - but it turns out Cas is hiding some dark family secrets.

 the way to a man's heart by mkhunterz M | 15k | Fluff,  Canon!verse

Dean teaches Cas to cook, and other things as well.

 Branded by garrisonbabe E | 12k | | canon!verse, soul bond, marking/claiming

Michael mocked Castiel, telling him he'd never get Dean the way he truly wanted. No matter the mark on Dean's soul, he'd never get him the way the archangel could take him. Dean finds a ritual that fixes that and a few other issues.

 Our Bodies, Posessed by Light by obstinatrix E | 39k | canon!verse, sastiel bromance, Fluff

Purged of all his souls, Castiel is a changed being, stronger than an angel and too powerful for Jimmy's body to contain. Happily, there's an archangel's vessel on hand, and he could use fixing, too. Dean isn't too happy about the idea of his brother acting as a vessel for Castiel, and Sam can guess why, but it isn't until Castiel gets inside his head and they learn to share the vessel -- and their thoughts -- that Sam realises Cas is as in love with Dean as Dean is with him. It's unfortunate that there's nothing much to be done about it now, but Castiel will get another vessel soon. The Winchesters will make damn sure of that. In the meantime, it's up to the three of them to establish their own strange accord, and Dean realises more fully than ever that it's Castiel, and not his vessel, that he loves.

 So Glad We Made It  ❤by scaramouche M | 16k | Fluff,  AU

At twelve years old, Dean makes a friend, who becomes his best friend, who will eventually become the love of his life.    

Oh, the best friends who grow up together AU. I have a soft spot for fics like these-- comes with pining, awkward misunderstandings, and a good basis for a realistic relationship.

 Shut Up (Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is) ❤ by kototyph E | 23k | Fluff,  college au

Dean's done some pretty stupid things, but getting drunk-hitched in Vegas to a colleague he barely knows might just take the cake. His surprise husband, Castiel, is a little weird but likable despite that, and Dean figures they’ll go back to Boston, get a quiet annulment, and go their separate ways. Six weeks later, he’s still married to one of the strangest, most genuine and definitely most dangerously lov-- likable guys he's ever known. Dean doesn't know why or really even how it’s happening, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember that he has divorce papers to file.

FLUFF EVERYWHERE! This is definitely a feel-good fic and I love reading it when I'm sad. Or just you know, whenever.

 But the Fire is So Delightful by kototyph E | 5k | Hot, hate then love, College AU

Apparently, it’s been snowing all day. [Dean is a Douchebag Fratboy with a Cherry Ass, Castiel is Angry and Aroused]

 Stitches by askance T | 23k |  Fluff, h/c, blindness, Canon!verse

Castiel survived Leviathan--but only barely. Vessel mauled and eyes destroyed, Cas is barely clinging to what's left of his grace when Dean finds him naked and alone on the reservoir's edge; in a panic, Dean brings him home to the cabin where he and Sam have been holed up off the grid. What follows is the slow process of the angel's recovery and the unexpected changes that come with his being blind, and in the three months this takes, their little family slowly begins to patch itself back together in forgiveness, love, and darkness.

 When Charlie Met Cas by riseofthefallenone E | 25k | Fluff,  canon!verse

Charlie is back in all her glory. The Winchesters have showed up on her doorstep and she’s making the best of it the only way she knows how. By being the little sister Dean never wanted and shipping the shit out of Destiel.

The Life After the Morning After by saltyfeathers T | 17k

Dean and Cas get uber drunk on their last day of University. They end up married. Neither of them seem to mind.

The Girlfriend Experience ❤ by Rageprufrock E | 15k | Hot,  Canon!Verse, First time

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

Classic Casturbation fic. Complete with steamy sexytimes, hilarious dialogue, and fed up and clueless Dean. Perfect.    

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built by MajorEnglishEsquire T | 14k | Canon!Verse, s8

Castiel travels with the angel tablet and without the Winchesters. One day, Dean gets a text from some anonymous number. (They speak in the language of need.)

Cowboys and Real Estate Angels by almaasi E | 36k | AU

Castiel crosses paths with the ever-charming Dean Winchester at a rodeo show in Texas, of all places. Dean's singing days are long bygone, but his crowd-pleasing skills haven't waned one iota. Unexpectedly, Castiel finds himself in Dean's bedroom; they take and they give, and discover that sometimes strangers can find love like this, too. (And if a man's faith can't be put in God, it needs to go somewhere...)

[ravens-rambling]

The Demon and Angel (Pt 8)

Masterpost

Summary: It happened during one rainy day the two met. One half-demon who was hiding from the world, who just wanted to survive, and one kind human who lend him a hand. Despite their differences, they want to learn from each other and maybe fall in love in the process.

WC: 1,327

ships: Romantic Moxiety, Romantic Logince, Platonic LAMP, Family Logicality

warnings: Nervousness, Food mention, Drugs, Held against will, Mentions of experimentation, Crying

Tag List: @punsterterry @stormcrawler75 @frostedlover @mycatshuman @mutechild @panicattheeverywhere15 @overlord-winter @analogical-mess @saddestlittlebabe

@sevencrashing @lwilddiamonddogl @thatgaydemigodnerd @darkhumourandfandoms @whymustibedraggedintofandomhell @romanslunchbox @wewuzraw @callboxkat @randomsandersides @lefaystrent @aroundofapplesauce @ryuity @cricks-loves-you @impunkrock-baby @just-another-rainbowblog @nerd-in-space @amazinglissawho @bubbliee0 @llamaly

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!)

Only a few more bites were eaten before the plate was set aside and he yawned loudly. Quickly he drank a bit of his juice then got up and placed it where the others did theirs. Sighing he glanced around rubbing his arms to get rid of that tingling sensation. Well, now what? Most of this stuff he’s never seen before so he had no idea how to work it. They didn’t like it when he left without them knowing so he was stuck here…

He could just sleep until they come back, that sounds like a decent idea…

But, something he’s noticed in this place, was that it was deadly quiet. He’s gotten so used to the busy streets noises that now having it this quiet was almost…daunting. Scary almost.

Well, …he could try to start up the weird square thing on the wall that played the singing woman. That would surely help, right?

It shouldn’t be too difficult.

Shouldn’t… Yeah, shouldn’t be…

It’s been 20 minutes since then and he’s seen fiddling with it. Pressing the screen seeing if maybe it’s some touch screen thing like the phone that the others used. To poking at the buttons on the side and back but still nothing. Growling he glanced around the sitting square thinking maybe there was some on switch that worked for it. That’s when he spotted a small black rectangle thing on the table that had buttons on it. Huh… Maybe that’ll work…

He pressed a smallish red button on the very top of it only for a screen to suddenly turn on and people’s voices could be heard. Yelping he jumped backward hitting his back against the wall while the tail to be fluffed up. Breathing heavily wide eyes stared at the screen as it played. Welp,… That worked…

Coming closer to the screen he poked at it with a sharp finger ready for something to attack him. When nothing did and the people moved and continued talking he leaned forward and sniffed it. It didn’t smell any differently, at least he didn’t smell people.

Tilting his head up at it he watched the people move about quietly. Slowly he went back to sitting on the square and sat down inquisitive by this strange box.

“We’ll be seeing a cold storm be hitting the city for the next week or so, be sure everyone to wear a jacket out there-”

Despite the fact that he had no idea how the people behind the box could do it, they seemed to be able to predict the weather. And from a week ahead too! Oh, maybe they are wizards that he remembers from the stories he was told as a kid. Though he thought they didn’t exist but, well, he’s not supposed to exist so who knows.

While he was thinking on that the people went away suddenly to new people and he tilted his head curiously at that. They were talking about something while mentioning what looked like the prices for the rectangular thing he’s sitting on. They mentioned the word ‘couch’ and he blinked.

Looking down he smiled poking at a corner with his sharp claw, “So your a couch. Huh…”

Then the people changed again as quickly as the others did and he blinked. This time he was quiet as the person talked about prices for where they store food in. He called it a refrigerator.

“Re… Refri… Refrigerator…” It was a weird word to say and he winkled his mouth a bit afterward. But he went quiet again as new people came on.

After a few more of these, the original people came on announcing that he’s watching something called the ‘2 News’ whatever that could mean. Again he went silent as these people talked for a bit not completely understanding everything they were saying but he was intrigued nonetheless.

About a half hour went by and he was dozing a bit when he snapped to attention at the screen. Blood drained from his face at seeing his own face on the screen. But it was without his horns or his wing.

“This man is still on the loose, he’s reported to be dangerous when provoked. Be cautious if you see him. His name is Virgil, though no records have been released on his last name. Also,” It cut to a picture of another man and Virgil’s breath sucked in, “a man named Thomas Sanders helped him escape from the asylum. We still don’t know why he did such a thing but records show he’s not a dangerous individual.”

Thomas… That face… He remembers that face…

“You’re getting out of here, alright? Just hang tight. I’m sorry for giving you so many drugs. I wasn’t sure how you’ll react towards this, I didn’t want to take my chances. But don’t worry it’s going to be okay. Keep breathing for me alright?”

Through his foggy brain, he could barely register that voice as he was pulled down white hallways. Distantly he could tell his hands and feet were strapped on the gully. And despite the fact that he was terrified he couldn’t seem to care. Or move his muscles. Yep, drugged again indeed.

His eyes blinked up towards the man who seemed to be frantic. Why was he so worried? Was there something wrong with him?

All he could manage was a groan, trying to voice his questions but Thomas only looked down at him worryingly but smiled a bit. “I promise I’ll get you out. I promise.” Virgil could feel gentle fingers brush up against his hair then a door opened and he couldn’t remember what happened after that.

Taking a shaky breath he opened his eyes to see the people were now talking about something else. His hands went to his chest as he took another deep breath.

Thomas… That’s who saved him… But…if that’s the case why did he wake up in an alleyway alone? Did he just dumped him somewhere and called it a day? But if he went through all that trouble why just dump him off? Why not take him to his place to experiment with him personally?

Gulping he ran his cold hand down his face. Why did he forget about that? It must’ve been the drugs…

What’s most important is the fact that his face was on the news. Other people must’ve seen his face, and true it was without his horns but he was still recognizable. Is that why Patton and Logan took him in? Cause they recognized him and wanted him for themselves? Were they waiting till those scientists come and take him away?

Releasing a painful breath in, the edge of his eyes got blurry and he realized that he was about to cry. Of course, these two don’t really care about him. Course they were just looking for money or to look good for catching him. Of course… How foolish of him…

Quickly, he got up and went to the closest window seeing if he could escape that way but it was tight shut. And when he banged the window he felt that it was harder than the previous one and his breath sucked in harsher.

Running down the hallway the sound of feathers beating against the fabric and his back he went to Patton’s room. A tear came down his cheek when he saw a weird fabric covering up the window. Scared to even touch it he darted around looking for somewhere to hide. Luckily he could open a door that led to a smaller room, a much smaller room filled with clothes, but it’ll have to do. Ducking inside he buried himself in it finding the heavy scents of Patton to be strangely comforting in a way and shut his eyes. He sat there crying silently into the fabric for god knows how long.

“We’re home, kiddo!”

“There is no need to shout, Patton. I’m sure he can hear you plenty.”

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Fake/Pretend Relationship

Fake/Pretend Relationship List. Twist on fake dating, faking to fool the family, roommates, for an event. And WIPs. Under a read more:

***** A TWIST ON FAKE/PRETEND *****

Boyfriend! by smilexdarling (1.1k words) - Even and Magnus wait for Isak at a bar.

Even's "fake" boyfriend by radiantsilver (2.4k words) - Is this a twist? I don't know. Even's friends don't believe Isak is real 

last night by bbyfruit (2.7k words) - Isak wakes up beside Jonas 

But the prettiest sight to see by imminentinertia (3.2k words) - Even deeply regrets doing Eva a favour for Christmas, but it might not be so bad 

stars collide by bbyfruit (3.7k words) - Isak is, objectively speaking, the dumbest bitch alive (that's the actual summary haha) 

The best boyfriend by champagneleftie (3.8k words) - "Hey man, what's up. I'm Isak." The guy still looks confused, like he has no idea what's happening, so Isak decides it’s probably best to be as obvious as possible. “Vilde’s boyfriend.” This is the possible love of Even’s life, the most perfect boy he’s ever laid his eyes on, with the perfect height and perfect lips and sometimes he does this little thing with his tongue that reduces Even to a puddle of feelings -- and he has a girlfriend. 

how to get a guy in seven days by thekardemomme (5.3k words) - Even and Yousef won't make a move, so Sana and Isak take matters into their own hands. It doesn't go exactly as planned. 

Ground rules by Kollakolan (24k words) - The Travel-AU where everything is not what it seems. I don't want to spoil the twist so this is all I'm saying 

four movements on a first wedding by chevythunder (47k words) - Isak's spent years keeping his distance to Even, worried that any kind of closeness could trigger feelings he won't be able to suppress. Waking up married to Even after a blurry night in Las Vegas throws a slight wrench in those plans. 

Twice by intothewind (101k words) - Even’s in a punk rock band. Jonas and Isak fake date because Jonas wanted to be in said band. 

***** TO FOOL THE FAMILY *****

first dates by princevaltersen (1.8k words) - Isak asks Even to be his fake date to an engagement party. 

Family Dinner - SKAM Fic Week Day 1 by bashfulisak (2.8k words) - Isak needs a date for a family dinner and he kinda lies, telling his parents he'll bring a boyfriend. Even is his one option. 

I'll Come With My Boyfriend by bashfulisak (3.1k words) - isak is kind of in love with even -- isak kind of asks even to be his pretend boyfriend to his aunt’s wedding. 

with you i'm in warm water by shadesofcool (4.1k words) - Even’s sister is coming to visit and he has to pretend to be in love with Isak. It wouldn't be so difficult if he hadn't been trying to pretend like he wasn't in love with him for years. 

A Grump for Christmas by Schedazzle (4.3k words) - To a dinner with Even's family 

How to Get Your Man - A Plan By Even Bech Naesheim by Evakkk (6.1k words) - When Magnus drops a big secret in front of Even... Even comes up with a brilliant plan to get Isak to reveal his true feelings. All it takes is one little lie, and one crazy family reunion. 

my longing drives me crazy for you by orphan_account (7.7k words) - Isak's mum worries, Isak makes bad life decisions and Even loves Isak. 

79 Percent by wyoheartsmusic (13k words)  - Isak helps even out

Late December With My Heart In My Chest by LavenderWater (23k words)  - In order to stop his mother's fussing since he left for college, Even tells her he's dating his roomate, Isak.

In this bed of snowflakes we lie by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames) (49k words) - Follow Isak and Even in this University Dorm life AU, full of snowflakes, fluffy pillows, and people who are nothing like they seem on the outside. Is this fake/pretend? Maybe more like accidental or things were assumed trope. 

Vivid in Black and White by Fxckxxp (62k words) - In a Hei Briskeby video prank taken too far, Isak meets Even for the first time down on one knee

***** ROOMMATES *****

friends don't treat me like you do by hippopotamus (1.7k words) - Isak’s going to humiliate himself in front of Even’s friends because he has no idea how to be - pretend to be - in a relationship. What is Even expecting him to do? Hold his hand? Kiss him? Hold eye contact with him for more than two seconds? Isak can’t do any of that. And he also can’t sleep. 

let's pretend into forever by Bellakitse (2.3k words) - “Let me get this straight,” Even starts. “You lied to your boss about having a boyfriend, told her it was me, and now you need me to go with you to your science nerd dinner?” 

Ring On It by TotallyTinkerbell (2.4k words) - Isak's room is the biggest mystery of the kollektiv, and only the guys that Isak hooks up with from time to time, get to see it. Even is very jealous and pretends to be isak’s husband. 

Feng Shui by champagneleftie (4.9k words) - “Even!” Isak says, indignant, affronted. “I miss kissing. Kissing is nice.” Even misses kissing too. That was nice. Kissing Sonja was nice. She smelled nice. Isak smells nice. Even has a brilliant idea. “You could kiss me!” 

Homecoming by DickAnderton (82k words) - Neither of them has felt at home in a long time. Until they meet each other, jump into a fake relationship. bed sharing. demisexuality. slow burn

***** TO AN EVENT *****

In the Eye of the Beholder by HazyCosmicJive (2.3k words) - After weeks of Even using him as a 'muse' and refusing to let him see it Isak is attending Even's first art exhibit. And to make it all worse he's going as his fake boyfriend, which wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't hopelessly in love with him. 

just one look and i'm out of touch by ihatefindingusernames (3.1k words) - Halloween party. Isak needs a date because the theme is couple/pair costumes

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by BluebeardsWife (10k words) - Even hires Isak to pretend to be his boyfriend at his ex's wedding

Come and paint the world with me tonight by LostInAdmiration (10k words) - "If he had been smart and sober enough to say no, he wouldn’t be stood in a church he definitely shouldn’t be in, wearing a suit that was far too tight and a rainbow coloured bow-tie."  A dare and a wedding. 

***** OTHERS *****

Tram Boy by evak1isak (1k words) - Even is on the tram and sees a cute boy without a ticket and goes to his rescue

I May Have a Little Crush on You? by mittliverskam (1k words) - Even helps Isak out of a tight spot. Emma is involved 

Hopeless by waitineedaname (1.2k words) - There was no way in hell Isak would be able to talk to Even. He was tall and cool and handsome, and Isak was pretty sure talking to him would make him spontaneously combust. He was hopeless. 

makin' me a mess by itjustkindahappened (3k words) - Isak gets stood up where his ex works

gloom boys by theyellowcurtains (3.5k words) - they want to annoy Emma

This feels like falling in love by ForEvenAndEver (yuraxchan) (3.5k words) - Even needs help at the club

Adrian and Markus by ufologies (3.9k words) - Isak and Even go undercover on a case that unexpectedly ends up bringing them closer together. 

Every Day You're Here, I'm Healing by foryouareeverywhere (4.1k words) - Isak having a health scare causes Even to reevaluate exactly what he wants in life.

might become my lover, for real by evamohns (orphan_account) (4.2k words) - It’s Even who finally does it, hooks his finger around Isak’s before turning his hand over and nudging at Isak’s palm with his until they’re holding hands, Isak flexes his fingers in the grasp – still looking at the floor. Festival. Sonja is here 

Draw The Line (Need To Know That You're Mine) by thesoulsailor (8.8k words) - Five times Even pretends to be Isak's boyfriend, and one time there's no pretend at all  - DELETED 

Let‘s Pretend by wematch (10k words) - Isak has been trying to get rid of Emma for weeks, luckily for him Even has a plan. Bed sharing. Truth or dare

FOCUS by LiliMane (10k words) - Isak and Even fall in love before even attempting to fake-date

Lost & bound by hjertetssunnegalskap (Crazyheart) (16k words) - Even has been in a bicycle accident and he has lost his memory of the past three years. However, Isak gets a shock when Even tells him that they’re bonded soulmates, and expects them to be a couple. 

would it be a sin if i can't help falling in love with you? by cosetties (18k words) - the kossegruppa meeting goes another way

Wish You Were Mine by cuteandtwisted (18k words) - Even is Isak's favorite bartender and there's some mutual pining involved. 

You're a different kind of new by LostInAdmiration (23k words) - Even has had a hopeless crush on Isak for months now, but has never been brave enough to talk to him. And then Isak rescues him. 

I wanna hold you like you're mine by giraffingallday (24k words) - Isak is often nervous and just trying to get through his required semester of Theatre. Emma makes it a little harder until Even comes along and makes it too easy.

They do not love (that do not show their love) by rumpelsnorcack (28k words) - the one where Even finds himself in need of a fake boyfriend and Isak offers to help.

The edge of the earth with you by TheGirlNoOneKnows5 (29k words) - A romantic Arctic cruise along the west coast of Norway provided the perfect setting for Even to woo his crush. Accidently ending up in a fake relationship with a cute stranger, while the real object of his affection was in the arms of another was not at all in his plans. 

latching onto you by Behindthecities (31k words) - model Isak and director Even get caught by the paparazzi and the only solution to it is to pretend to be each other’s boyfriends.

Come out, come out, to the sea my love... and just, drown with me by GayaIsANerd (32k words) - In which Even saves Isak from an asshole ex, and from himself.

let's talk about love(to me, it's only you) by vitane (37k words) - they become friends. Pretend to date once and just kept on pretending.

To all the boys I've loved before by janewritesstuff (Jane_de_Plaine) (46k words) - A "To all the boys I've loved before" AU

Masquerade by Sabeley (53k words) - Isak and Even were best friends before one botched mission tore them apart. They are assigned to go undercover as newlyweds.

***** WIP *****

Runaway Boyfriend by stories_and_dreams (15k words) - last update Aug 2017. Isak runs into Even at the airport. 

Feel the Lightning by briennejamie (15k words) - last update June 2019. Twist on fake dating. Isak and Sana have a plan. 

run boy run by pansexuaIeven (29k words) - last update March 2017. Eva and Even fake date to make their exes jealous. 

[disregardcanon]

so..... raven cycle characters in the good place au? featuring pynch and chengsey but not in large doses 

contains major spoilers for the good place if anyone hasn’t seen that and would like to go in unspoiled. for real, you don’t want to be spoiled for this show by a textpost version of an au 

for those of you that have seen it, this only follows up to the end of s1 but i might continue that later. if that were to happen the chengsey would probably become sarchengsey 

THIS IS MORE THAN 5K WHAT THE FORK 

a very brief, approximate rundown of character roles

ronan as eleanor shellstrop with some hints of jason mendoza

henry as jason mendoza... in the jianyu way but not the jason way, really

gansey as chidi anagonye

adam parrish as tahani al-jamil 

blue sargent as michael

noah czerny as mindy st. claire 

“you, ronan lynch, are dead,” blue sargent tells him, “welcome to the good place.” 

blue sargent is apparently the architect of the neighborhood and not human (who would name a real human baby blue sargent?) and not actually a tiny human woman with kinky hair and light brown skin and a face that goes from perky, service worker smile to resting bitch face at the drop of a hat. she gives him the rundown of being in the good place. she informs him that he was an avid environmentalist who used his personal fortune to help fund national parks, efforts to save endangered animals, and animal shelters across the country. 

this, however, was not ronan lynch’s life... and he definitely isn’t supposed to be here. after his worthwhile life of blowing through his trust fund, spiting his brother for thinking that he’s better than ronan is and trying to control him, doing drugs in the back of kavinsky’s mitsubishi. and then setting off illegal fireworks and setting shit on fire and having angry hate sex with kavinsky and street racing with kavinsky. he died after stealing his brother’s car and wrapping it around a tree, half on purpose. so yeah, there’s no way that he’s supposed to be here in the good place and he knows it. 

blue sargent, however, does not need to know that. so ronan lynch does something that he’s never done before, he lies. 

“yeah, that was me,” he says. because really? if he’d done good things in his life, saving animals probably would have been one of them. that’s a life he could have led, if he were less of a shitbag. he always liked animals. 

sargent brings him to a frozen yogurt place to meet his soulmate, and pretty much everything about that statement seems ridiculous and out there, but he’s in the afterlife, and it sure as fuck ain’t the pearly gates or the fire and brimstone his catholic raised ass was expecting, so he supposes that this is just his new normal. 

“some soulmate pairings are romantic,” sargent says, “and some are platonic. yours is platonic. fated to be best friends- closer than brothers” 

“great,” ronan says, which is not great at all because he was hoping that maybe there would be some sap on earth who was fated to fall in love with him, and not just be a dude he hated but couldn’t stop having sex with. since they have the wrong history for him, he can’t even complain about declan or talk about how no one would EVER be a better brother than matthew, who was ripped from the world far too young. 

he hopes that matthew and his parents are in another neighborhood somewhere, living it up as happy as they could ever be. if anyone deserves to be in the good place, it’s his family, or at least the dead parts of it. 

“ronan lynch, this is your soulmate, richard gansey the third” blue says with a wide smile. seeing him makes it even worse, because he’s handsome, but he’s off limits because it’s “platonic” and ronan wants to put his hand through the fucking wall. 

“just call me gansey,” he says with a big, wide smile, “that’s what all my students called me.” 

“students?” 

“i was a professor of moral philosophy,” gansey says, “but i also taught a few courses on welsh mythology and history.” 

“what a nerd,” ronan says before he can shut his god damn mouth. gansey smiles

“that’s the other thing that my students called me,” he says. ronan’s not sold yet, but ronan might not totally hate this guy. that would be a first since his family died. 

they tour the neighborhood, sargent telling them all about how new and improved this place is over earth even though it just looks like suburbia. at least, somehow, the afterlife is environmentally friendly? that’s what sargent says, at least. ronan doesn’t know how that would even work. 

sargent introduces them to another pair of soulmates about halfway through. the first is adam parrish, who was apparently a high powered lawyer back in life who helped like, the environment or some shit (suspiciously close to ronan’s fake backstory, ronan will have to be careful treading around that topic with him), and his soulmate jiyanu, a taiwanese monk who took a vow of silence. 

at least ronan got someone who talks. he’d feel bad for parrish, if the dude weren’t so fucking pretentious that it makes him want to puke. parrish is also really attractive and has hands out of ronan’s dreams but like.... that’s not relevant. the point is that he’s a pretentious dick not that he’s an ATTRACTIVE ONE okay? okay. 

ronan is probably pricklier than someone who’s actually good place bound would be, but parrish responds with exactly the level of passive aggressive that ronan would expect from a jerk back on earth, so ronan’s probably alright. if this dude deserves to be here, then ronan can at least match his level of passive aggression without people suspecting that he’s not supposed to be here. 

no matter how little ronan wants to admit it, though, he always sort of enjoys talking to parrish. it’s nice to have a break from gansey’s overwhelming cheer or sargent’s “benevolent alien anthropologist” act. jiyanu doesn’t talk, so it’s harder to get to know him. or even care about getting to know him. he looks perpetually uncomfortable, though, which is a weird thing to look in paradise. ronan hopes that he doesn’t look that uncomfortable.

but then again, ronan’s a big, muscly guy with a full back tattoo and leather jacket and a shaved head in a neighborhood that looks like suburbia ate candyland and then shat this monstrosity out, so he was probably going to stand out no matter what.

he stands out a whole lot more the next morning when the good place malfunctions in a multitude of ways that tell him that HE’S the cause. so, he decides that he should probably talk to his ethics professor soulmate to figure out htf he’ll get to stay here. 

“so, you’re my soulmate. soul friend?” 

“best bud,” gansey suggests.

“and you would never do anything to hurt me, right?” 

“yes?” and then ronan confesses that he doesn’t belong here and gansey’s like yup i guess this is my life now and it increases his anxiety tenfold but he promises to help if ronan promises to take ethics classes so that he can learn to be the person that deserves to be in the good place and ronan’s like okay, sure, i guess. books are stupid and learning is stupid but being tortured? is probably more stupid so he’ll deal with books and schools to not do that

he finds out that jiyanu doesn’t belong here pretty soon afterwards, after having a fucking heart attack that the guy was going to rat him out. it turns out that jiyanu isn’t even named jianyu. his name is henry cheng and he’s a drug dealing, backpacking dj from vancouver. his mother’s a mob boss. he’s sometimes involved in her business, sometimes not. he’s always a wayfaring stranger, or a hopeless wanderer, or a druggie bum from vancouver, one of those words that means he’s a traveling dude with no life prospects. 

“i’m not even taiwanese, dude. i’m forking korean,” henry groans, and ronan feels like he’s found a kindred spirit in all of this shit. this is way easier to deal with than an actual monk knowing his secret. now they just get to be assholes together. 

they meet up in henry’s “bud hole” which he definitely doesn’t call a bud hole, because he has some class. he calls it mr roboto because it’s his secret secret he’s got a secret. he actually says this aloud, singing and all, and ronan starts singing the murder squash song and a beautiful friendship is born. 

friends. weird. ronan never had a lot of those. or any, if he’s being honest. 

“not being able to talk? that’s the worst thing for me,” henry says, “do you know how much i like to talk?” 

“i can guess,” ronan says. 

“like, words don’t always work right for me, but i still love to talk,” henry reiterates 

“yes, cheng, i get it,” ronan says, because he really would like for the silent monk to go back to being silent, please. 

“it’s like torture, lynch, absolute torture. like, if i actually were in the bad place, they couldn’t have come up with a better way to torture me than that.” ronan thinks that’s a bit of stretch, when in the bad place they could literally pour lava over you for all of eternity, but the thought sends a bit of a shiver up his spine. 

the good place isn’t so good. 

he pushes the thought to the back of his mind. it probably means nothing. he and henry might be here and miserable, but they’re not supposed to be here. gansey? parrish? they might be assholes sometimes, but they did do legit good things. gansey was a fucking ethics professor, and it sounds like parrish took a lot of cases for charity and did all kinds of philanthropy. even though ronan and henry aren’t supposed to be here, those two still are. 

---------

back on the topic of henry, henry cheng was a backpacker who dealt drugs and was working through a trust fund of his own and working through more romantic and sexual partners than ronan can even imagine. apparently, his mother was a crime lord from vancouver. he was kidnapped for ransom as a child, and his mother barely cared to get him back. the last thing that happened to him was when one of his former, scorned lovers kidnapped him and demanded ransom from his mother, she refused and that’s how henry cheng died. the scorned lover killing him part is a point of pride. the fact that his mother let them? not so much

---------

gansey finds out about henry soon afterwards. he agrees not to rat out henry either in exchange for even more ethics classes. 

“gansey, you are a prince among men,” henry says. and gansey does not blush, he DOESN’T but ronan glares at the ground. the universe gave him a soulmate who’s actually into dudes but not into him? what the fuck, universe. what the fuck. 

they take ethics classes, and they get better. and better, and better while feeling worse, and worse, and worse. the neighborhood deteriorates. it seems like everyone’s mental state deteriorates too, even the two that are supposed to be here. 

sargent tries to find gansey a new hobby after ripping into the book he spent his life writing. parrish snoops around sargent’s office, and finds out that he had the lowest good person score out of anyone in the neighborhood. he tries as hard as he can to up his score, until he realizes that because he’s dead, he can’t. it eats away a little at him to know that he’s even below ronan lynch, even if the guy isn’t quite as bad as he first thought. at least he can TALK to him, unlike his soulmate monk-ey mcsilence

everything seem to be getting worse. 

and then, sargent tries to take credit for all of it. the breakdowns- the tremors- all the things that ronan being here has caused, and tells them all that she will basically be brutally murdered for her failures- ronan’s failures. he hates that gansey made him grow a little bit of a conscience. ronan comes clean. he’s pretty sure that gansey’s disappointed face as he stares at henry is the only thing that gets henry to come clean with him. 

parrish doesn’t seem delighted that ronan isn’t supposed to be here, but he does seem pleased- almost smug about it. 

“all you rich kids had everything handed to you, and i had to work so hard to get where i got. even here, in the good place. you glided in here on a technicality.” 

“you want them to send me to the bad place?” ronan asks, “that’s still a possibility, you know.” if parrish wanted him damned, he probably could make it happen. with lawyer powers and social clout combined, he could probably get it done. 

“well, no,” parrish says, “i don’t.” and of course, no actual good person would want another person to be tortured to spite them. to be honest, ronan doesn’t really wish that on any other person, not even declan or kavinsky. 

“plus, that gives me at least two people i’m better than here,” parrish says. ronan raises his eyebrow. 

“points wise,” parrish says, like that explains everything. they have an in depth conversation about when he snuck into sargent’s office and searched through the scores and his existential crisis about how low his numbers were, and ronan can’t help but laugh. perfect parrish was the worst one here? 

“hey,” parrish says, “at least i deserved to be here.” it might have been the least out of any of them, but he still got in on his own merits. ronan got here due to a clerical error. 

“you probably had like, ten thousand more points than me if that helps,” ronan says. parrish tries to shrug it off, but ronan can tell that it does. gansey’s across the room, looking like he’s coaching henry on how to get through this situation, and ronan wonders if there wasn’t a clerical error with the soulmates too. 

if any of them are soulmates, romantically, it certainly isn’t the pairings they’ve been assigned. gansey and henry might be soulmates, really. and well, looking at the way parrish smiles and the way that his hand curl and the way that he’s feeling- god- fuck- ronan thinks that they might have a possibility too. 

adam and henry have a Talk which consists of 

“sorry for not speaking for six months” 

“i don’t really think i like what you have to say, anyways.” 

“that’s fair. we’re definitely not soulmates, are we?” 

“i’m not sure we’re even friends” 

“ouch, parrish, harsh” and then eventually, they kill each other a million times in video games and decide that it’s alright, i guess. kind of. they’re not going to be friends, but they’re not going to hate each other either. not even enough for hate sex, don’t worry, henry checked. 

they bring the person that ronan was apparently switched with up from the bad place. he’s a real environmental lawyer who’s also named ronan lynch, a clean cut Black man with a warm smile and no tattoos who seems liked someone who would have walked across hot coals to help a stranger. 

by pretending to belong here, ronan condemned him to months of torture. he probably deserved it when people start calling the other one “real ronan” and him “fake ronan”. that doesn’t mean he likes, it, though. they could call them suit ronan and leather jacket ronan or something.

apparently, henry cheng was somehow switched with an actual taiwanese monk named jiaynu because they died at the same time. who knew?

there’s a whole big plot to try to keep ronan and henry here in the good place, spearheaded by parrish’s lawyer brain and gansey’s ethical heart, and maybe a lawyer heart and an ethical brain too. he thinks that both of them possess both organs, at least. 

the bad place sends a demon named trevor to pick up him and henry. trevor  reminds ronan too much of kavinsky for comfort. much more than any person should, really. it’s uncanny, and it sets off that same unpleasant feeling in his stomach as henry’s comment about not being able to talk did. the same way that he feels whenever sargent pulls gansey off to do something that gives him anxiety attacks. 

gansey tries to balance his best friend energies very carefully between the two ronans, as to not play favorites when either one of them could be his soulmate, really? how are we supposed to know hahaha oh isn’t this gREAT. gansey’s anxiety is a fragile thing, always like a bottle of soda that’s been shaken to the point where if you open it, it WILL burst. people were always too difficult, which was why he avoided them most of the time. they were hard to put up with, harder still to please. gansey preferred his own company. 

--------

gansey loves learning. that’s kind of always been his thing. he loves school. he loves knowing things. he loves sinking into a good book and trying to piece together what information from it is relevant. people? not so much. people are tricky. people involve interactions constantly, love and affection. he knows that he could, but that involves taking time away from whatever the obsession of the day is, and gansey never met someone who was interesting enough to detract from his obsession of the day back on earth, even his family. 

his sister tried to get him to come to his mother’s congressional campaign events, even one. so did his father and his mother. 

“yes, i’ll be there,” gansey promised absentmindedly, not really planning to. he did not come. he was reading through phillipa foot’s “moral beliefs”. 

“your studies will always come first, won’t they?” his mother

“shit, dick. this is just- this is too much. can’t you do this one thing? fuck you” helen

helen didn’t call again. neither did either of his parents. gansey tried not to think much about the sting. learning was his thing. he was doing it. that’s all that matters. 

he tries to grab the first copies of his dissertations and his copy of death and that original welsh manuscript he picked up a while ago and oh god, he can’t forget his laptop that has so much work on it and- 

the flimsy remains of the roof collapse on him, and richard gansey iii burns to death in that building, along with his research. 

---

gansey’s not decisive, and he’s not a big fan of people, but he cares about ronan and he cares about henry, and he goes to sargent to demand that they remain in the good place. which, for a boy whose indecision killed him, is a pretty big step. sargent is quite impressed, and decides to accept the request and do everything that she can to make it happen. 

parrish suggests that they accrue points so that they can stay, which is an admirable suggestion but doesn’t work because they’re already dead. it’s the reason that he couldn’t move any further up the list to begin with. sargent calls in an impartial “undead judge” to hear the case to see if ronan and henry will get to stay in the good place. 

ronan decides to say fuck it instead and and he and henry steal the dude’s train and hightail it somewhere no one can touch him. apparently, there’s a medium place where everything kind of sucks but no one gets tortured. 

it has exactly one inhabitant, a guy named noah czerny. he was a cokehead skaterbro when he was alive, and the night before he died he came up with an idea to end world hunger and save a ton of kids: the most comprehensive idea for a charity ever, really. his best friend hit him over the head with a skateboard and stole it, but he started up the program that noah thought up. no one could decide whether or not noah should get the points, so they made him a place in the middle. 

a sucky, medium place. like cincinnati. or being dead but not dead in the first place. it’s just a sub par house in the desert with warm beer and mediocre movies, but it’s better than eternal damnation. 

at least, it would be if they didn’t get a message about a decision to send gansey and parrish to the bad place in their stead if they don’t come back. what the fuck is that? who decided that was fair. 

“i guess we need to go back,” henry says sadly. 

“yeah,” ronan says. they do need to go back. ronan doesn’t want to, but he knows they need to. 

“you don’t if you don’t want to,” noah says, “you’re free to stay here.” but ronan grew a conscience back in the good place, and that conscience’s name is gansey. and gansey doesn’t deserve to go to the bad place, and frankly, neither does parrish. ronan’s not about to say that one out loud, though. just because the dude’s hot doesn’t mean that ronan wants to confess any sort of affection for him. 

he’s not an affectionate sort of guy. he loved his dad, and his mom, and his little brother, but all of them are dead. after that, he told exactly two people i love you: stone cold steve austin and a guy in a dark club that he mistook for stone cold steve austin. so yeah, any sort of affection is foreign to him. his only long lasting relationship consisted solely of hate sex. 

they get back to the good place, and they go see sargent. it seems that the problem has become worse since they left. or, maybe better. apparently, they aren’t demanding gansey and parrish specifically anymore, or even ronan and cheng. the immortal judge, apparently, doesn’t give a fuck who they decide to give him, as long as they send two people to the bad place. 

the other ronan (good ronan, real ronan) offers to go, but that still leaves two spots to fill, one of which he is DEFINITELY taking. 

exactly none of this ends well, with a combination of self sacrificing and pure selfishness as they shout at each other, like something out of the lord of the flies or some shit. it finally clicks in ronan’s brain why he’s had that feeling of wrongness. 

“gansey and i are going to the bad place,” ronan says firmly. 

“i didn’t agree to that,” gansey says. 

“what about real ronan?” blue asks. 

“nope,” ronan says, “gansey and i have this covered. call the train.” 

“actually,” the judge says, “ronan and henry were the ones that were originally bad place bound-” 

“nope,” ronan says, “you said any two of us. gansey and i are going.” bambajan bursts into the room with an enormous book open in his arms. 

“i found a way to keep all of you in the good place!” bambajan says.

“shut up, bambajan,” ronan says. sargent’s eyes widen for a moment. she knows that he’s caught on to her throne of lies. 

“ronan, what’s happening?” gansey asks. 

“i just figured out what’s been wrong about this place the whole time. they can’t call us a train to the bad place, because we’re already here. this is the bad place” sargent seems shocked for a moment, but only a moment, before she regains her composure. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says smoothly. 

“bullshirt, sargent,” he says, “i’m right.” gansey laughs, nervously. 

“this is a joke, right? please tell me it’s a joke,” he looks down at his hands, “my stomach hurts-” 

“of course it is,” sargent says firmly. shit, this can’t be good. if sargent denies it and no one else believes him, then it won’t make any difference that he knows. it will all just go by the same way until she finally gets him to shut up about it. 

“no,” henry says, “lynch is right- he’s got to be.” sargent sits down, and puts her head in her hands. 

“you’re going to tell them they’re crazy, right?” parrish demands. sargent looks up, and lets out a maniacal laugh. 

“five years of planning,” she says between laughs, “five years down the drain because ronan lynch grew a brain.” 

“actually, i’d say i grew a heart,” ronan says smoothly. 

“that’s a reference to something,” blue says, far too calmly for someone who just admitted to torturing them, “that musical about the green woman who’s in love with the pink one?” 

“close enough,” ronan says. gansey looks like he’s going to die of his stomach ache. 

“what is going ON?!?!” 

“i’ve been torturing you,” blue says, “this is the bad place, do keep up.” 

“what do you mean?” parrish asks, “that can’t be. it can’t be.” sure he was ambitious, but he never did anything wrong. maybe he didn’t do as much right as he could have, but he never did anything actively wrong. 

he wasn’t corrupt- he was smart. he never did anything that was wrong, really, and he tried to do some good too. he belongs in the good place- he has to. 

he worked his way up from nothing, less than nothing really, starting with a loveless, abusive upbringing, then onto a good college and a law degree in record time. he lived the american dream.

when he finished school, he started defending the highest bidder at any cost, in any case. and he took a few charitable cases, stuff that would make him look better. 

blue sargent keeps on laughing. 

“you rich boys, boys who never did anything to help anyone- the definition of idle wealth. all humans are awful, but the four of you?” blue laughs again, that harsh, strident laugh that cuts through the air directly into his soul, “you’re something else.”

“i wasn’t born rich,” adam says adamantly. he might have gotten there, but he wasn’t born into it like the other three. he had to climb a mountain of lava to get where the rest of them started. 

“you weren’t,” blue says, “but did you do anything to help people who were still poor?” adam gets really quiet. 

“you know, how ‘bout i just show you how you died. that’ll clear this all up.” 

“no-” adam says, because he doesn’t remember how he died, but he doesn’t care to. dying has to be traumatic, right? he’s got enough traumatic memories from his lifetime, thank you. he doesn’t need to add deathtime memories onto the scars that his parents left him. apparently, blue doesn’t care what he wants, though, and he’s pulled into the memory. 

---

he’s at a resort, somewhere tropical. he can’t quite remember where he’d decided to go, but it was tropical and set on a cliff side, only about a twenty minute drive from the beach. he always preferred the view from higher up. he could see above the tree tops and the resorts and then the beach and the ocean. swimming in a pool’s simpler than swimming on the beach anyway. 

no sand in his toes or his hair or his ears or anywhere else he won’t be able to wash out for months. he’d tried to like the beach, he really had, because it’s supposed to be a rich leisure activity, but he just couldn’t force himself to. he spent enough of his life getting grimy, thank you very much. now he’ll just appreciate the pool and the view. it’s one of the many things that his high profile job can buy. 

the job was a way to acquire status, same as smoothing over the accent and befriending celebrities and charity banquets and speeches and whatever else he did for his image.  

he’s walking to the pool along a mountain path, beside a small wall separating him from the cliff side and the ocean far below. he’s wearing nothing but a soft t-shirt, a pair of swim trunks, and sandals that cost more than his entire high school wardrobe cost. life is good, at least until he meets up with another guest on the path. 

“adam parrish,” the guy says, like it’s a curse word. adam hasn’t heard his name said that way in a long time. he can’t say that he misses it. 

“yeah?” adam demands. who the fuck is this guy? what’s his problem? he seems familiar, but adam can’t quite place him. he’s known a lot of people in his life, and a lot of them he’s tried to forget. 

“born in 1985 in henrietta virginia,” the guy rattles off, “grew up in a trailer.” 

“i did,” adam says in his clipped off fake east coast accent, “i’m not ashamed of it.” he is, actually, that’s why it’s not public knowledge. he’s not about to let this guy know that, though. 

“you know what you should be ashamed of? getting a murderer off the hook.” 

“alleged,” adam says. there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him in the minds of the jury, so there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him in adam’s mind either. he’s just doing his job. 

“yeah, well that “alleged” murderer killed my mother,” the guy spits. 

“i’m sorry about your mom,” adam says. 

“you aren’t yet,” the kid says, “but you will be.” he takes off his backpack, and then takes out a fucking scrapbook. then he shows it up for adam to see everything he’s ever been embarrassed by staring him back in the face. 

every single incriminating to embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him- every case he’s ever taken that might make him look bad, familial information he’s hidden- ex boyfriends he’s buried for the sake of staying ostensibly straight for his career- every single thing he’s never wanted to come out confined to a single blackmail scrapbook. the craftsmanship is actually impressive. the kid’s dug up secrets that adam has forgotten about himself. 

“what do you want for it?” adam says, handing the book back to him. he’s a little freaked out that the kid dug up this sort of dirt on him, angry to have it shoved in his face, but he’s mainly impressed. it’s the sort of thing that he could and would do. 

“nothing,” the kid says. 

“what?” 

“you can’t have it. i’m taking it to the press.” 

“then why the fuck did you show it to me?” adam says. you don’t pull a play like this without demanding the ransom. you can’t just rip the rug out from under them- 

“i wanted to see the look on your face,” the kid says. then, he turns around to stomp off. adam reaches forward to grab him by the shoulder and turns him back around. 

“you can’t do that,” adam says. 

“yeah,” the boy says, “i can.” he breaks free of adam’s hold, and then grabs his book as he starts to walk away. adam feels rage boiling inside of him. he can’t just- just do that. 

adam doesn’t know if this would be a career ender, but it could hurt him badly. badly enough that he can’t deal with it, not now not ever. he runs towards the guy, in between him and the edge, and grabs the book. the kid keeps his grip tight. 

“let go,” he growls. 

“you let go,” adam demands. 

“fuck off,” the guy shouts as he tries to rip it back away from adam. adam’s more determined, though, and he clutches it as tightly as he can, digging his fingernails into the flimsy material. he has a stronger grasp on it, and then he throws his weight to the side- the side with the short wall over the cliff. he flies into the wall, and then he flies over the edge. he plummets directly down to the rocks below. 

--------

“holy shirt,” adam says. 

“yeah,” blue says, “wonderful, wasn’t it? you all had such entertaining deaths. i’ll need to figure out how to incorporate them better for the next try.” 

“next try?” henry asks. 

“oh yes,” blue says, “i’m going to clear your memories and then try again. really, this was such a learning experience. next time i’ll work all the bugs out.” 

“you can just do this over?” henry asks, sounding horrified. 

“of course,” blue says, “you’ll have your memories erased and we’re going to start again. can’t just leave you like this. it’s no fun torturing you this way if you already know what’s going on.” this explains so much about all of their experiences here in the good place. everything makes sense now. 

“well, i’m a demon,” blue says, “comes with the territory.” 

“a demon,” gansey says, like he still can’t believe what he’s hearing. gansey obviously isn’t present enough to figure out a way out of this mess, and parrish is still reeling from reliving his death. henry’s slightly more put together, but ronan doesn’t think he’s got any ideas for how to stop this either. that means that ronan has to figure out something to save them from this cycle. 

blue did say that this happened because he grew a brain. maybe he can write himself a note or get another tattoo or- 

“i promise after i fix this, you’ll all have long, unhappy lives,” blue sargent says with her widest service worker smile. she snaps her fingers, and then the world goes white.  

bum bum BUMMMMMMMMMMMMM 

if anyone’s interested in a continuation of this, i might do season 2. but the most important part of season 2 is the millions of reboots with different soulmates so here are a few examples 

“gansey, this is your soulmate, the physical manifestation of henrietta virginia” 

“jianyu, this is your soulmate, madonna” 

“adam, this is your soulmate, ronan lynch” 

“ronan, this is your soulmate, stone cold steve austin” 

“this is your soulmate, a raven” 

“this is your soulmate, orla,” blue says, gesturing to the woman. female person. not someone that ronan’s sexually attracted to in the least. 

“this is the bad place, isn’t it?”

“ah fork it all,” blue curses. then, she snaps her fingers and the world resets. 

[actually-impostor]

So, i had @trixie85592 in the TS fanfic exchange! sorry for the wait, real life got in the way, but hopefully this fanfic will make it up for it! I went with Analogical, and with the third prompt [Writer's choice of ship: The nervous confession to the side they like through some kind of romantic outing]

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was the little things, like the way Virgil sometimes had a shy smile on his face, the way Virgil would sit down and listen to him even if he sometimes disagreed with his point of view, the way Virgil massaged his temples when a headache started forming, it was the seemingly uninterested “good morning” that were only for him and the soft “good night” before retiring to their rooms for the night.

Logan couldn’t name it; he just knew it made his chest feel light, like at any second he would go flying off into the sky. He frowned and shook his head, it was physically impossible for him to go up flying.

He woke up in the middle of the night with a name falling out of his lips, his chest felt light but at the same time it was like his heart was being squished. His heartbeat was out of control and he realized a few minutes later that he still had his hand extended in the air, chasing after a gentle smile and sweet brown eyes.

With a heavy sigh he got out of bed and a quick glance at the clock told him that the person he was looking for was probably awake still. He slipped out of his room in the direction of Virgil’s, he had to talk to someone about the things in his chest and the images on his brain, and he needed to do so with someone that understood him.

Logan knocked as softly as he could on the door, and it opened a few seconds later to show Virgil with his hair going in all directions. Logan give a small snort of laughter and tried to muffled a chuckled

“I apologize, may I come in?”

In lei of an answer Virgil opened his door more and moved to the side, he looked tired but Logan knew he couldn’t sleep yet

“What’s good my dude?”

“Never say that again Verge”

“Noted, so what’s up?”

“I… think I have a problem”

That made the shorter boy raise his head up at him, an eyebrow already reaching up to his hair and disbelieve clear as the day on his face

“You, having a problem?”

“Maybe? In any case it doesn’t affect anyone else”

“Okay, I believe you” Logan sighed with relief “But I still don’t know what’s wrong”

Logan gave a heavy sigh and threw himself on Virgil’s bed. As he stared at the ceiling –which Virgil had once again changed, now the sky was the milky way- Logan found that his brain felt less foggy. An idea occurred to him, if watching the ever changing sky on Virgil’s room could bring him peace then maybe what he needed to say could be done in a similar setting?

“Would you like to come star gazing with me, right now?”

“Logan, is almost 3 am”

“I’ll bring blankets?”

“What’s with the change on topics… but I mean, sure, why not”

Logan gave him a soft and rare smile and Virgil felt himself blush. They stayed together for a while, until Logan deemed it late enough to actually move and go fetch the blankets he had mentioned to Virgil. The second he was out of Virgil’s room the man dropped face down on his bed, his face feeling aflame. It was getting harder and harder to hide what he felt for Logan

A knock on his doorframe snapped him out of his head and he looked up to see Logan giving him a small smirk, a bundle of blankets in his arms

“Come on”

“Ugh, going”

Virgil grabbed his pillows and went behind Logan. He was worried about what Logan wanted to talk about, but he trusted the man

They layed everything down and sat down, the sky was cloudless and the stars were shining. Virgil lost himself staring at the sky, it seemed more beautiful than normal. Logan stared at Virgil

He couldn’t get over the way the stars were reflection in his eyes, in how his expression was of intense awe, in how he was smiling softly. He was shining. He looked…

“Beautiful”

“Yeah” It was said as nothing more than a whisper, but Virgil’s voice held awe “The sky is more beautiful than normal”

Logan debated with himself. He had the chance to tell him now, and if his reading of the mood was correct then this was the perfect moment to tell him, but… he was scared. There had been almost no signs of Virgil liking him back, and every sign of corresponded feelings could easily be passed off as friendship or shyness.

Logan gave a glance at the sky and nodded, he had to do it now. When he turned to talk to Virgil he noticed the boy had his eyes closed and was humming, soft enough that Logan hadn’t noticed it but loud enough to produce sound.

“I love you”

The second the words left his mouth Logan froze, he had just- he wasn’t thinking and- and now Virgil was staring up at him in shock, the moon highlighting his face and adding a sense of dream to the situation. His brown eyes (shiny, so bright, hiding an intelligence that could rival Logan’s own, always worried, always shifting, never resting in just one place, calculating every chance and every possible danger) were open fully and staring at Logan in obvious shock.

He wanted to run away, to forget this night had happened. If he ever had a chance with Virgil he had already ruined it by confessing this way. How could he, when Virgil deserved more than a stargazing session? When Virgil deserved to be taken out to dinner, deserved to be woo in the most dedicated way? And Logan had just blurted out his feelings, with no finesse and no tact, just the burning need to say something, anything, the burning need to express the way his chest felt light.

“L-Logan?”

“I know… this is not the most common or acceptable way of expressing my feelings. But if you would please listen to me before rejecting me”

“I-”

“Please Virgil”

When the shorter side nodded Logan took a shuddering breath, steeled his nerves, and looked at the sky for a last time before focusing his sight on his best friend.

“I’m in love with you, with the way you smile, with the way you worry. I’m in love with the analysis your brain makes, even if it tends to go to extremes” He paused for a second, staring at the blushing boy in front of him “I love your eyes, how they are constantly looking around, analyzing everything, taking account of every possible danger. I love it when you are rested enough to feel calmer, and when your insomnia makes your paranoia even worse”

A small chuckle left Virgil’s mouth and Logan smiled

“I love it when you smile Virgil, it’s like you light up”

Softly, and moving slowly, he reached up to cup Virgil’s face. He caressed Virgil’s cheek and gave him a small smile, trying to convey in his expression and gesture all the things his words were failing to explain

“I love you”

It was silent for a minute until Virgil’s chocked sob interrupted the silence of the night. Logan stared at the boy with fear. Had he really messed up that much?

“Logan I love you, you giant nerd” Virgil held on to Logan’s hand which still was on his cheek “You haven’t mess up anything”

Logan gave a small laughter at that. He had thought out loud

“I love you Verge” He couldn’t help the smile on his face, or the way his eyes were filling with tears

Both of them were crying, giant smiles in both of their faces, and the moon and stars were staring down at them, glad to be part of a moment that would last a lifetime.

[spacednp]

Zombies

TW: gore, zombies(is that a trigger?), panic attack (kinda), shitty title

SUMMARY: whats the guidelines 4 dis lmao ima need to fix this later

ADDITIONAL NOTES: the ending is BAD

 the title sucks fuck off i knoww 

yo yo follow the people below (and me cough cough) bc.. Yeet

Beta- @callmekiddo-2 (thank for putting up with my constant grammar errors fam)

Artist- my bro,,, @owlpip (Art links gonna go here when i get them)

WC: 7.3k (really short i knowww)

The sound of rushing water filled the room and the steam from it rose into the air. Small bubbles occasionally flew from the sink, floating away gently, like a peaceful and soft dance. Dan’s hands were covered in suds and began to wrinkle because of the constant stream of hot water embracing them. Dan picked up the last plate and wiped it in a swift motion with his sponge, making a circle of soap that he quickly rinsed off. He set that final dish aside before washing off his own hands and turning the water off. He then grabbed the dish towel and set to work, drying off the dishes. He swabbed the clear droplets of now cold water from each dish, concentration etched onto his face. Once each dish was dried he rushed about the kitchen, putting them all away. He and his flatmate had only been living in that flat for a few weeks and he was still getting used to, well, everything. Due to this, he was sure he had put a few things away wrong. But hey, Phil had asked him to do the dishes, and he did. Kind of.

The padding of footsteps behind him made Dan jump, nearly dropping the rag in his hand. “Fucks sake, Phil,” Dan hissed, throwing his damp rag onto the counter behind him. He came very close to knocking over an unlit candle, “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Whoops,” Phil replied, crossing his arms in the doorway, a smile painted on his face. Dan loved Phil, they were best friends, after all, but Phil was probably the least empathetic person when it came to scaring people. He couldn’t care less. Every once in awhile dan would like to hear a, “Oh, I’m sorry, are you okay?” instead.

“You’re an ass,” Dan muttered, turning back to his abandoned rag to put it away.

“Pfft, you know love me,” Phil said. (what should i do here looks kinda lame)

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Dan responded, trying to not smile. Dan and Phil had been best friends for years, hell, they had pretty much grown up together. After being essentially joined at the hip for almost ten years, the boys were pretty much family. They even started going on family holidays together, calling each other’s mothers’ “Mum” the whole time just to spite the other. The two were as close to brothers as anyone could get without the matching birth certificates.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” Phil said after a minute.

“No problem, but you’re sweeping tomorrow to repay your debt,” Dan countered.

“What? But it’s your turn,” Phil whined. Dan turned back to Phil and shrugged, the smile that had left Phil’s face set on his own.

“It was your turn to do the dishes,” he pointed out, smile widening.

“Fair enough,” Phil sighed, rolling his eyes a little. He didn’t really think it was fair as sweeping was much harder than washing a few plates, but he didn’t say anything. After all, Dan did have a point and it was Phil’s turn to do the dishes. Phil turned and began to walk away.

“You heading off to bed?” Dan called after him. Phil turned, smiling a little.

“What, you want a goodnight kiss?” Phil teased, laughing lightly at his own joke.

“I don’t, but about eighty percent of the internet would want me to,” Dan joked back, causing both to snicker. The shipping didn’t bother the two anymore. After years of thousands of people reading into their every move, it got kind of dull. Of course they made jokes about it, it came naturally after a while. It was apart of life for them, and everyone made jokes about their life. People made death jokes because it was a part of life, they made sex jokes because it was a part of life, and Dan and Phil made shipping jokes just like that because it was a part of their lives.

“See you in the morning, Danny,” Phil shouted over his shoulder as he walked to his bedroom. Phil never really called Dan by the nickname, unless he was in the teasing mood. Just as an older brother would tease the younger.

Dan looked to the clock to see that it read about midnight, which was the usual time for Phil to turn in for the night. As for Dan, he had a sort of reputation to uphold-stay up on the internet for a few more hours until the blinding light of his laptop screen made his eyes red. Sometimes Phil would join Dan and they’d sit on their couch and occasionally tap the other on the shoulder, pointing to their own screen when they found a post they thought would make the other smile. For whatever reason that made the whole experience way better for Dan. Maybe he liked Phil being there because they were best friends, maybe it was just the presence of another person being sat next to him, or perhaps a tangle of both. Dan wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, Dan enjoyed it very much.

Dan soon retreated into his bedroom as wasn’t comfortable with just standing in the kitchen alone. He unplugged his laptop, glad to see it at full battery, and sat down on his bed. In record time, Tumblr was pulled up and he was scrolling through impressive amounts of shitposts and the occasional problematic rant by some self-righteous teen. He only skimmed through the posts, reblogging the few that made him blow a bit more air out of his nose than usual. Years of being a “full time internet homo” had that effect on him, barely laughing, mostly just exhaling more intensely.

One post on his dash stood out to him. Usually he’d scroll through phanfiction, ignoring the ones that seemed badly written by some 12 year old girl in twenty minute. That seemed to be the majority. However, every once and awhile he’d find one so amusing or highly requested he had to read it. Hell, he even found a few really well written ones that almost could be published or poetry. Naturally, when Dan found something like that he just had to read it. In any case, fanfiction was just writing-sometimes bad or… inappropriate writing, but: writing. It was better than getting high or drunk, so Dan figured he might as well support it, even if there were a few bad and emotionally damaging seeds.

The room was almost pitch black. The only sources of light being Dan’s open Macbook and the light peeking in through Dan’s window with the drawn curtains, caused by the street lamps, head lights, stars and moon of the outside world. It made the whole situation seem way more scandalous than it really was. Of course Dan would clear his search history after reading, and of course he’d deny ever reading the fic, and of course he would die if Phil found out, but that didn’t make it scandalous. Okay, maybe it did, but that was only because Dan made it so scandalous, it could be totally innocent and Dan could be open with his dirty little secret. However, that seemed too easy. Dan didn’t get much excitement in his life, so why not act like the whole reading phanfiction thing was this whole secret that was done behind closed doors and drawn blinds in the dead of night? It wasn’t like he secretly got off to it or anything, it just- he was just curious. That was it.

Well Dan being just “curious” lasted all of five paragraphs into the story. Then, he started to enjoy it. He loved the word choice, the characters (even if he was one of main ones), and even the plot. The whole story was based off of the zombie apocalypse and what would happen. Now, since Dan was such a massive nerd, the story called to him. It was thousands of words long- double digit thousands. However, Dan didn’t mind it at all. In fact, that was another thing he liked about it. If he could ignore the fact that it was he and his best friend’s names’, he could actually picture it being a real young adult novel. The writing was excellent and the pace was just right, he could actually see the characters falling in love. Shamefully, he fell in love with the characters as well. He even caught himself wondering why his Phil wasn’t like the one in the fic. If that was his Phil, of course he could be in love with him, the way the shippers wanted. That hit really close for Dan. He loved Phil, of course he did, but as a brother. The Phil in the story, however, he was different. He was more empathetic without being suffocating, he was strong and still sweet. Dan could see the resemblance to his Phil- wait, what? Dan just ranted in his own head about how great this character was, how he could have a romantic relationship with him, and then compared him to his 100% platonic best friend. That had to be crossing a ton of friendship boundaries, even for he and Phil. They were friends. That was it. But maybe it didn’t have to be… No. That was how it was. Friendship, only friendship. Period.

Dan knew that phanfiction was doing weird things to his brain. He knew he should click out, unfollow the person who put it on his dash, delete his search history and never go back. He didn’t though, he should of, but he didn’t. God, how he should of.

Instead of doing what was right, Dan gave into the alluring temptation. That had to be some kind of a sin, right? Imagine Dan being damned to Hell because he didn’t click out of a phanfiction, that seemed to be a very Dan thing to do. Rather this was true or not, it didn’t prevent Dan from reading the fic, and enjoying it. His bloodshot eyes focused on the brightness of his laptop screen and the black words on it in front of him, the rest of the world a massive blur of grays and streaks of white light shining in. Dan continued to read until the whole world went dark around him and he slipped into the warm embrace of sleep.

Dan awoke in a bed that was not his own, a warm hand on his left arm shaking him. Not wanting to wake up just yet, Dan rolled over onto his right side, away from the hand. Doing so, he was met by a sharp pain in the arm he’d rolled over on, which was luckily his right and non dominant arm. He heard a familiar voice, but it seemed distant and echoey, almost like it was at the opposite end of a tunnel. A long, dark, warm tunnel… Dan found himself drifting back into unconsciousness but was pulled out of it by the calloused hand that was still gripping him whilst shaking. Dan decided because of the the sharp pain burning into his flesh and the constant shaking there was little to no chance of getting back to sleep. The pain confused him because it wasn’t the type of pain you got when you slept wrong, it felt as if it was more of a open wound that could quite possibly be infected. Not that it would even make sense to have a sleeping pain in his arm, as Dan both went to bed and woke up laying on his back. As well as the odd pain, the weight of Dan’s laptop was gone. Had Phil came into his room, found the laptop on Dan’s stomach, and put it away for him? Oh no, had Phil seen what was on the screen? Dan didn’t remember closing the tab.

“Dammit Dan! Don’t you quit on me now!” The voice suddenly came into focus, like a camera. Once fuzzy and blurry, then sharp and clear. He knew that voice, it seemed a little worn though, broken from yelling. It was Phil’s voice.

“M’up, I’m good,” Dan slurred, opening his unfocused eyes trying to sit up. Doing so, the pain intensified, burning so fiercely Dan fell back. “What the fuck?!” Dan shouted.

“You got stabbed, idiot, remember?” Phil said, setting a hand on Dan’s chest to keep him down. When the world came into focus around Dan, he saw that the Phil next to him was not Phil. Or at least it wasn’t his Phil. This Phil’s skin was far too tan, his face was smeared with dirt (or dry blood, but Dan hoped it was just dirt), and his hair was way too long, his roots showing way too much. Dan looked at his pained right arm, seeing a white rag knotted around his slightly larger and more muscular bicep that was stained crimson with what Dan knew was his blood.

“Stabbed? What?” Dan gasped, voice coming out breathy and strained. His breathing quickened and he tucked his hands into fists, ignoring the pain caused in his right arm, digging little crescent moons into his sweating palms. He tried to force himself upright but was held down by Phil’s hand, who was ridiculously strong, so much so it was discomforting.

“Dan, you need to calm down,” Phil sternly said. Dan threw his fists at Phil’s hand, which seemed to be crushing. He just wanted to be alone, wanted to wake up in his room to the sound of Phil- his Phil, waking up obnoxiously loud. He didn’t want to be in this strange place with this strange Phil like some strange phanfiction…wait a minute. Phil’s description, his actions, Dan being stabbed- this was just like that phanfiction he fell asleep reading. But that was impossible, and even the idea of it increased Dan’s panic. He opened his mouth to scream at the weird person who was kind of like Phil, yell at them to go away, bring him back to his home, to his Phil, but nothing came out. His tongue felt too big in his mouth and his saliva felt like thick, dry cotton. He just wanted to go home! He wanted to wake up in his bed, yell at his Phil for waking him up so early, catch his Phil eating his cereal- he wanted it to be a weird dream. How could it be a dream? Dan felt pain, that didn’t happen in dreams, did it? So it wasn’t a dream? Did it mean Dan could never go home?

“Daniel!” Phil’s hand pressed harder on Dan’s chest and somehow brought him back to reality, or whatever it was, kind of. “Breathe Dan, breathe.” Dan was heaving for breath, he tried to listen, tried to breathe, tried to do what Phil said, but it wasn’t working. Dan just wanted everything to stop, please just stop. After a few minutes of struggling for air Dan felt himself start to calm down, the shaking he wasn’t even aware of started to slow, breath came easier, until he was only crying, yet another thing he wasn’t aware he was doing. He wiped his now unclenched hands on his face, trying to rid it of tears. He felt stupid, like an idiot. He’d just cried, like a complete child.

“I’m good,” Dan breathed,  relaxing his head on the pillow under it. He went to bring his hands over his face to cover it but was brutally reminded of his injury in the form of a sting.

Dan had never been one to believe in the supernatural or even religion. He believed facts. Yes, a zombie apocalypse was theoretically possible. It was also something religious, to a sense. No, zombies didn’t carry around bibles and sit in pews on Sundays, that just sounded stupid. However, there was three main things religions tended to have. A higher power, the beginning of time being created in a ‘big bang’ sort of sense, sudden and with no explanation besides before mentioned higher power, and, of course, “The End”, or, in other terms, “The Apocalypse”. In a way, it made sense. Logically, life itself had to have a start. Therefore, it also had to have an end. Who’s to say life doesn’t have to follow the same rules it creates, a beginning and and end, birth and death? However, that theory didn’t explain why Dan was magically sucked into some post apocalyptic universe birthed from the brain of one of his fans. That didn’t make any sense. Dan wished he could make it make sense. When things made sense you weren’t scared of them, you could convince yourself it wasn’t dangerous. Dan didn’t have that luxury.

“I think I need some fresh air,” Dan announced, moving to sit up. He, of course, was blocked by Phil’s hand. It was really starting to get annoying, being pinned down. He felt trapped, caged in like an animal, a beast with no humanity. He felt like Phil didn’t trust him, then again, why should he? Dan wasn’t the person this Phil knew, and deep down he thought Phil would know that. Maybe Dan should just play his part, calm this man a bit. After all, why should both of them feel lost? From reading the phanfic he knew how sickingly codependent this universe’s Dan and Phil were, who was he to rip that apart? After all, Dan knew everything the other Dan knew. They acted quite alike - this universe’s Dan and the real Dan. It made sense, after all, this Dan was based on the real one.

“Good luck finding any,” Phil snorted. Dan had almost forgotten he had spoke, so lost in his own thoughts, trapped in the prison of his mind. Phil lifted his hand off of Dan’s chest and instead used it to help Dan stand, which was a difficult task. Soon Dan was upright and he and Phil were heading to the rotted door decorated with metal locks and deep scratch marks, which were pale in contrast to the dark finish of the door. As they walked Dan noticed the many weapons and cobwebs littering the walls of the cabin, he appreciated them, though he had no idea how to use them. Phil grabbed a machete off the wall, very worn and coated in a brown substance that Dan knew was dried blood. Dan hoped he wouldn’t have to see Phil use it.

No part of Dan protested when Phil walked him out, or when held the door for him, or even when Phil rested his hand on Dan’s lower back. He wished he would have, wished he could have made himself. The truth was that Dan didn’t mind. His stomach didn’t drop, his skin didn’t burn or tingle. If anything, Dan felt safe. Warm. Content. Like what was happening was just… right. Was that insane? None of it was right, he wasn’t where he was supposed to be-not by a long run. He was supposed to be home, in bed, eyes bloodshot from his bright laptop screen. He wasn’t though, and that wasn’t right. It would be nice if it was, it’d be nice if his own kind of paradise wasn’t standing there consumed in the feeling of a man he didn’t know, a man that wasn’t real.

When the two exited the shack Dan woke up in they were engulfed by a forest. Shrubs, moss, and mushrooms littered the floor and above the canopy of the trees were so thick you could only catch a sliver of blue when you angled your head right. It wasn’t what Dan expected at all. He expected a city in ruins, bloody human like creatures digging into the corpses of children. The air, however, was just as he expected it. Thick, hot, smelling of rotting flesh, far from the musky, cool breezes a forest should carry. Dan suddenly remembered why everything was the way it was. In the phanfiction Dan and Phil decided to take shelter away from civilization because the cities… they were just as you’d picture. Gray, covered in a thick layer of crimson blood, only populated by zombies or sick bastards that couldn’t care less about you and only wanted your supplies. Evil place, the world had become.

“Zombies aren’t even the problem anymore,” Phil said, as if he was reading Dan’s thoughts. “Hell, they weren’t even the problem to begin with. People were. People created it and let it out. People… People started this mess…” Phil’s voice trailed off meaningfully. Dan understood what Phil meant, thinking back to the phanfiction. The writer had a bit of a prologue before they wrote the story. It described the beginning of the end, in a sense. It was like most starts to fictional zombie apocalypses, new drug that’s not tested enough creates a sickness. That drug was somehow leaked into the water supply and the world got sick, however, a few were immune. The drug was fought by a mutation in the genes of certain people. That gene was the blue eyes gene, which Dan did carry. Blue eyes was a recessive trait that didn’t show in Dan because of the brown eyes trait (a dominant gene) he also acquired. Phil too had this the blue eyes trait but his did show. However, those infected were given the instinct of spreading the pathogen. The only way they could do so when someone carried the blue eyes trait was via injection of contaminated DNA. Basically, if you carried the blue eye trait you were fine to drink, but it could still get the illness if you got bitten.

In Dan’s peripheral vision he spotted movement. He grabbed at Phil for reasons he couldn’t explain nor did he want to try and understand. Phil seemed unphased by this and just shook Dan off. “I think there’s one,” Dan tried to explain, pointing to where he thought he saw movement. Dan swore he saw concern paint Phil’s features for a split second before it was gone, but it was probably nothing. This version of Phil wasn’t the one Dan knew so well, it was a variation of him, but it wasn’t him. This Phil was made up by some teen girl on her laptop at four in the morning, and Dan couldn’t forget that. No matter how real this Phil seemed, he wasn’t.

Dan didn’t have much more time to fuss over his weird feelings for his friend’s character in some story he was somehow a part of (wow his situation was complicated) because they were joined by a freak of nature. The creature burst from the undergrowth, running towards them with a slight limp, arms outstretched and fingers like the talons of an eagle. The creature was just as you’d imagine a zombie; It’s pale skin was almost green but still carried the gray tint of death. It’s features were hollowed out, reminding Dan of one of those before pictures on an eating disorder recovery story. It’s clothes were torn and blood soaked. Gashes covered it, skin peeling away to show bloody and rotting flesh. Around its mouth there was the trace of its last meal, dried blood and chunks of flesh that didn’t seem to be its own. It’s eyes no longer held the glimmer of life and carried dark bags under them, far worse than the eye bags you got after a few nights of restless sleep. Everything about it was horrible and made Dan do a little sick in his mouth. A scream lodged itself in his throat but stayed there.

Phil stepped into action immediately and Dan wished he could say he didn’t find it ridiculously hot. The way he pushed Dan behind him and raised his machete up made Dan audibly gasp. If he hadn’t been so terrified out of his wits he’d consider it a turn on, which was concerning because this was Phil, Dan’s no homo best friend and roommate. Well, maybe it wasn’t Phil Phil, but still. The zombie ran faster and just when Dan was certain they were dead and Phil had no idea what he was doing, Phil surprised him. He stepped forward (towards the terrifying monster, Dan might add) with his left foot, and used all his strength and sung as he stepped, slicing the zombies head off. The body collapsed and the decapitated head rolled away. Dan was certain he was going to actually vomit.

“You’re bloody insane,” Dan breathed, staring at the open eyes and mouth of the head on the ground a few feet away from him. He felt like it was looking into his soul, and it was terrifying.

“You’re welcome, for you know, saving your life,” Phil said, turning to Dan and glaring at him.

“You’re an arse,” Dan spat, angry at Phil and not really knowing why. He had a point, without him Dan would be zombie food. He should be grateful, so why was he angry?

“Excuse me?” Phil’s eyebrows furthered and it seemed like venom laced his words. “You know what? I don’t even care!” Phil let out a dry and humorless laugh. “You know what the funny thing is? For a minute there, I thought you gave a half of shit about me, looks like I thought wrong, you don’t care about anyone. Not even yourself.” Phil growled, pushing his way past Dans and making his way to the shack.

Dan remembered why this was happening. Why he was angry, why Phil seemed like someone shoved a stick in his butt. In the fic, Dan threw himself in danger, went off without Dan and ended up getting hurt, Phil ended up saving him from getting eaten/infected, but still, a few heated words were shared. Before this, they had a bit of a, well, they slept together. Dan knew from the fic that Phil was felt that made the two more than friends, but the fic Dan didn’t think so. The fic Dan didn’t mean to hurt fic Phil he just didn’t think one night changed anything whereas fic Phil thought it meant everything. The whole thing was a mess and Dan was stuck in the middle of it, it was like if The Walking Dead was a gay soap opera. Shaun of the Dead meets General Hospital meets… gay. As for Dan, “not caring about himself” was probablybecause of when Dan got hurt, he wasn’t careful and overall it was like he didn’t care anymore.

Dan was lost in an ocean of thoughts and of course he was so deep that there were sharks. His senses failed him, he didn’t hear the shuffling of footsteps, couldn’t see what was coming as it was behind him, nor did he smell the putrid stench of rotten flesh and despair nearing him. No, all those senses failed him. However, one did not. The final sense, the one that paints a soft blanket or your lover’s hand, was the one that told him. The boney hand lacking any fat and only covered with a thin layer of peeling skin was what told Dan that he wasn’t alone. It pulled Dan back with remarkable strength for a creature with deteriorating muscles. Maybe a scream found its way through Dan’s mouth, maybe it didn’t. Perhaps it stayed lodged in Dan through, glued there by pure terror. Either way, Dan was pulled back and somehow managed to get himself turned around so he was face to face with husking skin and yellow, sharp teeth. It’s breath smelt of rotting teeth and metallic blood. Dan’s whole body was shaking and he could feel death nearing. He imagined a grim reaper lurking in the bushes near by, scythe in hand and dark cloak on its back.

The world was in slow motion, Dan felt every millisecond pass and felt like he could write an entire novel of each passing moment. Dan watched as its yellow teeth neared him, felt his heart beating out of his chest and shut his eyes tight, waiting for death. Dan wondered if this was the way out of the nightmare he had someone gotten himself in. He had heard of death being the one sure fire way out of any dream, maybe it was the same kind of thing. Maybe he would finally wake up in his own bed. Maybe he would finally be able to go hug his own Phil. Dan doubted he would sleep alone in his bed for weeks after this whole ideal, he’d just sleep with Phil. They used to do that all the time, it was just comforting. Dan was sure Phil wouldn’t mind, why would he? He always enjoyed it just as much as Dan did.

There was a swoosh sound in Dan’s ear and then he felt chunks of something splatter all over him. The grip that once help extra tight on his already hurt arm weakened and then slid off. A violent shudder ran through Dan’s body. He opened his eyes and felt tears run down his cheeks. Phil stood behind the limp body of the zombie that had previously been three seconds away from killing Dan. It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t Dan’s Phil, the real Phil. It didn’t even matter that this whole thing was probably some kind of odd hallucination. None of that mattered, because his eyes were Phil’s eyes and if Dan focused hard enough he could pretend this man in front of him was the same Phil he watched from behind a computer screen as a teenager, the one that ended up being his first and only best friend. So, Dan wrapped his arms tight around Phil’s neck and he cried, but he only cried harder when Phil didn’t smell the same as he should have and when he felt way too broad to be his Phil. Still, Phil dropped his weapon and held Dan close and at least that was comforting. This Phil still wrapped his arms tight around Dan’s waist and let him cry on him. Even if this wasn’t the real Phil, he still shushed Dan and rubbed his lower back and didn’t care that Dan was getting tears and snot all over his shoulder.

“I hate this place,” Dan sobbed, and he didn’t care that Phil wouldn’t know the truth behind his words. He didn’t care. He just wanted to be held and told ‘I know, I know,’ even if it wasn’t true. Even if it was all a lie, it was the only lie Dan would let himself believe, just for now, just until he felt a little better. They were both covered in dirt and blood, but that was okay. It was okay that Dan’s wound opened back up, it was okay that he almost died twice within an hour, it was okay that this Phil was in love with not this Dan but a different one, that was all okay.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” Phil suggested, slowing the circles that he was rubbing on Dan’s back. Dan nodded into Phil’s shoulder and let Phil pull away and guide Dan inside. Phil sat Dan down on the bed. “I’ve gotta go get my machete, okay? I’ll be right back,” Dan nodded even though Phil was no longer looking at him and was already halfway out the door.

Dan’s heart felt sad. It was like a huge cloud of sad decided to park above his rib cage and just sit there. It was like the days when Dan would just wake up sad. Dan wasn’t depressed or anything, sometimes he just had sad days, and that’s okay. However those days he didn’t have any reason to be sad, but today he had all the reasons to be sad. He missed Phil, his Phil. He wanted to hug him, not this store brand version of him.

“Do you need another hug?” Phil asked, frowning above Dan. Dan didn’t even realize he was back.

“Yes, I need a thousand hugs,” Dan breathed. Phil smiled sadly and sat next to Dan, wrapping an arm around his waist. A few minutes passed before Phil spoke.

“You don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you, and that’s okay,” Phil paused for a minute and moved Dan over a bit so he had more room to sit. “However, I don’t want you to lie and say you do, I can’t handle that. I’m in love with you, and you’re not in love with me, that’s okay, but please don’t lie to m-”

Dan didn’t know why he did it. But he did it. He cut Phil off by sitting on his lap and forcing their mouths together. He didn’t let Phil pull away or object; when he felt like Phil would try and stop him he kissed harder. He did that until Phil set his hands on Dan’s sides and kissed him back. The kiss tasted dirty and wrong and it made Dan’s heart sad even more, but he still did it. Even after they pulled away and caught their breath, Dan’s heart was sad. So, he kissed Phil again. He knew it was wrong and he was just using Phil, but he didn’t stop. He could tell Phil wanted him, he could tell he loved him, and that felt nice. Dan liked to be wanted and loved. He let Phil’s hands learn their way around his body and he forced his brain and heart away and just acted. He traced his hands all over Phil. He let Phil take off his clothes and he took Phil’s off as well, and he let the thing that started the first argument happen again. He let Phil think Dan felt the same way for him, but one dark truth lurked. This Phil was in love with his Dan and Dan was in love with his Phil. Dan didn’t want to believe it but he knew it was true. He wanted this, but not with this Phil.

The only way Dan could cope with his new realization was to block it out. He let fic Phil have whatever part of Dan he wanted and Dan pretended he loved this man. Because the two Phil’s were completely different people, it only got hard when fic Phil did something that reminded Dan of his Phil. That’s when Dan’s heart would get sad again. Dan would block that out too though, and soon Dan hated himself. He hated how naturally deceiving Phil came to him. He hated how no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t bring himself to look fic Phil in the eye because those eyes reminded him of the real Phil. Slowly self hatred and destruction became a habit. Even though the world was full of actual zombies plagued with a cell destroying disease, Dan still felt that the sick monster was himself. Fic Phil still took care of Dan and saved his life almost daily but sometimes Dan wished he wouldn’t. Maybe if Phil was a little late one time then Dan wouldn’t have to be the one to break his heart, it would just be cruel Mother Nature and another case of star crossed lovers.

Well naturally the one wish that did come true during that whole ordeal was the one involving Dan’s own death. Of course. It wouldn’t of made sense for it to be Dan wanting to wake up or not having one useless arm that always hurt and the second he moved it would begin squirting blood, no, that was just too nice of whatever cruel higher power put Dan in that mess. That angsty God just wanted more drama.

It happened when Dan left the wood rotted shack for a little time away from the mess he’d weaved himself in with Phil. Phil ran up and gave Dan a kiss on the forehead before he left and Dan felt he was going to be sick. Still, he smiled at the gesture and gave Phil a peck on the lips and a muttered “I love you”, still holding back his sick. He’d never really been one for mega sappy relationships and it didn’t make it easier that this whole relationship was lacking any love from his part. He wish he meant the “I love you”, but he felt nothing as he said it, only longing for someone who had aspects of this man but who wasn’t him. Dan quickly got out of that hell house of a shack and walked a bit deeper into the forest than he should have. He stood on the ledge that overlooked a gray city and a lake that looked to be covered in a thick layer of dust. He watched creatures that weren’t quite human limp about and tear apart corpses of what might of been a person that might of had a family. Then again, maybe they were the last one of the family and they wished death upon themselves like Dan did. Even if life beyond this wasn’t life at all, even if he didn’t wake up in his own world with his own Phil, maybe that was okay, at least then he wouldn’t have to lie to anyone. No matter what happened after this, Dan never wanted to lie again. Lying was too much for Dan to handle and it was tearing him apart.

Dan had a bit of Déjà vu when he felt the boney hand grab him, digging into his upper arm. He felt it began to bleed but he did nothing, not even scream. Then it dug into his other arm, the healthy one. That one started to bleed too. He felt crimson liquid drip down his body but he did nothing but shut his eyes and wait for the teeth. They snuck into the part between his neck and shoulders, they ripped through tendons and ligaments. They crunched nerves and punctured veins. Then they were ripped from him and took the chunk of flesh with them. The hands digging into his arms also pulled out of him. He heard familiar slicing and he felt his knees give out, he opened his eyes when he felt arms around him. He swore he was going to be sick. It was Phil, and as always, he saved him. Well, not really. Dan looked at him with glassy eyes and smiled sadly. He felt his resolve fading and he slipped into insanity and sickness.

“Do it,” he croaked. Tears covered Phil’s cheeks and it made Dan ache. Even if he didn’t love this Phil, his eyes were still the same three-colored ones of his flat mate and best friend, and those eyes should never cry. Dan wanted to dry his tears but he couldn’t move his arms, they were in too much pain.

“I can’t,” Phil managed, voice breaking. “I just can’t do it.”

“Please, Phil, it hurts,” Dan said, voice dripping with pain. It was like the worst flu ever mixed with open wounds and bleeding out. Phil nodded once and returned Dan’s sad smile. He got his machete and laid Dan down comfortably on a soft patch of grass.

“I love you,” Phil told Dan as he raised his weapon. He was determined to do it quickly and in one even swipe, that would make Dan suffer less, and that’s all he wanted at this point.

“I love you too,” Dan lied. Or maybe he didn’t. Of course he was grateful for this man, he had saved Dan’s life a few times, but did that equal love? Probably not. Still, Dan wanted the last words Phil heard from him to be that he loved him, even if it was a lie. He needed that, so he would give it to him.

Phil raised his machete and one minute Dan felt all his pain, then for a split second he felt incredibly sharp pain in his neck, and then he felt nothing. For a moment there was black, nothingness, but then Dan was opening his eyes in his room, in London. He felt the familiar weight of his laptop on his lap and he didn’t feel any pain. Dan sighed in relief. He got up to go find Phil, needing him right that moment.

The smell of coffee and the clinking of dishes lead Dan to believe Phil was in the kitchen. As he walked into said kitchen he was aware that his suspicions were indeed correct. Phil stood next the a counter in his pjs, stirring a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Danny Boy,” Phil said when he saw Dan walk in. He took a minute to go back to making his coffee but then he continued the one-sided conversation. “I read last night that more people are killed by donkeys than plane crashes, isn’t that cool?”

Dan was so happy that Phil said it. It meant it was the real Phil, the Phil that he met in Manchester on the train station so long ago. This was Phil. His Phil. Dan had so many emotions that he didn’t know what to do with them, so he cried. He just burst into sobs right there, a few feet from Phil.

“Dan are you okay? Did a family member of yours get killed by a donkey? Did I just bring back traumatic repressed memories from your childhood?” Phil rambled, and Dan just cried harder. “Can I do anything to make it better?”

Dan nodded once. “Hugs, please,” he requested. Phil nodded and abandoned his coffee to wrap Dan up in his arms. Dan cried harder, happy tears, because this was the Phil he knew. He smelled like coffee, liquorice, and apples. He smelt like Phil. His arms wrapped tightly around Dan’s back and made him feel safe. He felt like he could say anything and it would be perfectly okay, so he said the one thing on his mind. “I love you,”

Phil didn’t say anything back for a long few seconds. It stretched out like an eternity, but he didn’t lessen his grip on Dan and Dan was beyond grateful for that. Only sound in the room was their breathing and Dan was nervous about how heavy his was compared to Phil’s, who kept his composure too well for Dan’s liking. Dan expected Phil to reject him or something. Phil didn’t say anything. It seemed like eons of waiting for something-anything. Finally, Phil responded.

“I love you too,” and Dan’s heart stop and he started over analyzing. Of course Phil loved him, as a friend. Friends say ‘I love you’, right? Was it just he and Phil that never said it? Or maybe they did, Dan’s mind was too fuzzy to recall. Well, there’s really only one way to find out how Phil meant it. Dan somehow managed to loosen Phil’s grip on him enough to push their mouths together. Phil didn’t retaliate for a few seconds and Dan thought he was going to die of embarrassment and waited for Phil to again, do something.

Phil did do something. Dan felt the pressure being returned and he actually thought he was literally going to die. He didn’t though and when they had to pull away to breathe Phil hugged him tighter and Dan was glad that Phil’s breathing was just as heavy as his. As happy as he was, Dan was still kind of worried for the Phil in the phanfiction. What happened to him? When Phil finally let Dan go and Dan looked into his eyes Dan felt guilty again.

“I’ll be right back,” Dan breathed, as if he was scared that if he was too loud what just happened with he and Phil would shatter. Phil didn’t say anything but looked concerned.

Dan hurried back to his room and quickly read the end of the fic and almost threw his laptop across the room. The last line was:

“After Dan and Phil shared their kiss Dan rushed back to see the ending of the story he was trapped in, wanting to know the ending.”

And then it ended. Just like that, an open ending. Everyone hates those and yet authors keep writing them. Over and over again.

The end.

[whydoyouthinkileft]

Fitzsimmons for the ship meme

reminder that these are my headcanons and can be completely wrong

-who cries when someone dies in a movie

Jemma. Fitz can get misty-eyed depending on the movie (movies where pets die? those are just unacceptable) but it’s barely noticeable when there is a woman wiping actual big tears right next to him. The first time it happened she had warned him, at the academy, that she cannot watch sad scenes and not cry, and he still got agitated and tried to comfort her, but she was fine two scenes after that. 

-who wears the ugly holiday garb

Jemma, absolutely. And proudly. She just ends up looking cute. She makes fun of her own height if she dresses as an elf for a Christmas party, how do you resist that? But then she also brings hats for Fitz and Fitz can either attempt to refuse and be given lots of kisses and puppy eyes to accept, or just accept right away and be given lots of kisses and a big smile. ( “We are making traditions, Fitz! Fifty years from now you’ll be happy about this!”) 

-who pays for the meals

Fitz would pay if it wasn’t for the fact that Jemma feels guilty and eats less if he pays for everything, so they agreed that each pays its own unless it’s a date, because she appreciates gentlemanly gestures. Sometimes if they are in a hurry and leaving a bar or something similar, though, one hurries to the counter to pay and they don’t really worry about it later.

-who slams the oven door and who plays the trombone

she slams the oven door because then she can also shake her hair a lot. 

-who brings home stray animals

oh, it’s a tie. They both look equally apologetic and the other one melts - as if they were going to protest much over taking a puppy or a kitten home when it’s raining like hell - but if they are still working in SHIELD they can’t fill a house with pets they can’t take care of, so they give them to other people after they make sure they are fine. Once they live elsewhere, and are having a more domestic life… now that’s the problem. How can Fitz survive a “… you want to take away my dog?” asked already nearly in tears by a very sad Jemma? How can Jemma even just glance at a smiling Fitz playing with a dog and think that they have already too many dogs? 

-who leaves the bathroom door open

Fitz would be less self-conscious, but given that he knows Jemma prefers doors closed unless it’s a joined shower, or unless she’s taking a bath and he needs that mirror or those cabinets for some reasons, he probably just always closes the door. Unless they are doing things like fixing their hair. Jemma wants to leave some mystery lol  (but, again, she leaves the door open if she’s just in a hurry, brushing teeth and fixing her appearance)

-who tells the ‘dad jokes’

they both have their (nerd) jokes (schrodinger cat jokes? come on, Jemma. I actually snorted at it, but still) but in this case I think Fitz tells more dad jokes (barely, because she tells them too and then waits for his done reaction) if anything to fight back against there dark-self-deprecating jokes which he keeps stumbling upon. Jemma either actually laughs or mock-asks him to leave.

-who wants kids more

they both want kids, and they are both afraid of being bad parents, and after each of them admits it the other can see that they shouldn’t have worried in the first place if they sound that ridiculous, because each of them can see how wonderful the other one would be as a parent. so it’s a tie, though I can see Fitz worrying a bit more and therefore Jemma ends up being the one who wants them more by exclusion. But even here, barely. 

-who travels more

They usually travel together! 

-who spends more cash

Jemma, because Fitz is more careful about it (see talking about putting a price on the perfect house). Then again Mr Renting A Whole Restaurant For Them makes up for it with extra romantic gestures - but it still doesn’t reach Jemma’s expenses between her big wardrobe (especially the expensive, luxurious, lingerie) (Fitz would never complain about that even if she used their money, though normally she has her own money aside for extras) and personal things added to her making up for her lack of creativity in romance by buying him whatever he might want no matter the price, and of course buying holiday tickets and other more romantic things too. (for example, Fitz falls in love with some movie? she buys him some perfect piece of merchandise that was almost impossible to find. In any case if you ask her it’s harder to be romantic towards a guy, you don’t get to buy jewelry and flowers for a special date)

-who buys the things in infomercials

I think neither? they could find inspiration to modify some of their furniture, though.

-who draws in the dust on their cars

I think Fitz might have had the passing thought of not wanting to risk scratching it - and then Jemma drew a heart for him on it, for once doing something sweet and not practical at all for him, and then she drew him a monkey face, and he just gave up. (I can also see him as the kind of man who melts when his usually more practical girlfriend does something sentimental for him)

-who starts the snowball fights

He starts when he feels it’s a good day for him to end up tackled into the snow by her. That’s how she ends the fights usually. But sometimes it’s her, even if she knows she’ll end up screaming while running away from him. 

-who throws away the directions to things

Once upon a time Fitz had had enough of following a map to a tee and threw it away. After one detour that turned into three because “Oh look at that, Fitz, we have to go see that!” and “can we stop, I want to pet that!” and being dragged in a shady looking pub for a drink and fearing for Jemma’s life about four times in two hours, and finding a blocked road because of the third detour which led them to have to take a different turn and go to a different town where Jemma disappeared and turned out to have spent two hours in an obscure small shop of random merchandise, and Jemma taking control of the wheel and nearly driving them into a lake but then stopping the car with a ridiculous U turn that not even Fast&Furious would have shown as acceptable, and it was genuinely what she meant to do and considered ‘parking’, and having to ask for directions to a guy who kept smiling at her, Fitz decided they were always going to follow directions from then on. Nobody throws away directions.   

-who puts up holiday decor

They both do. Jemma goes a bit overboard because oh! they have a home! they are together! isn’t it amazing? and her enthusiasm gets to him too. He doesn’t really care about having the perfect shade of red for the pillows to go with the new decorations but hey, she’s so happy and touch-y, he’s not going to fight her on it. 

-who is more likely to forget to bathe

they are both very clean people, so I’m going to go with Jemma forgetting to take a shower after work because she doesn’t stop working - she forgets to live until Fitz takes her away from her project.  

-who gets more obsessed about things

they both get extra fixated on their science projects, and they can have very long fandom conversations, so it’s almost a tie, except she also gets obsessed more in the bad way, with grudges against actual enemies, or in friendly cases “remember in 2005 when you helped prank me? We are even now”. Also Fitz doesn’t need to rewatch tvshows that many times. He’s more chill in that.   

-who sings in the shower more often

Jemma. Fitz is more self-conscious until he hears her pull “Can’t Fight This Feeling” by Reo with all her heart and without a care in the world. On one hand, it seems okay to sing if he feels like it, given that Jemma doesn’t exactly hold back, on the other hand she’s perfectly in tune and it feels like he’s also supposed to sing perfectly. But then she also goes for jumping instead of dancing in the kitchen and trying to drag him into it so her lack of shame makes him feel more free to join the radio every now and then.