#IT IS ALSO SCRAPING FICS

[gorebonk]

Icl guys ai role play just sucks ass if you want to genuinely have characters interact with you write, I don't care if you write badly it ill be infinitely more rewarding and you will have so much more (infinite) control over what you want to happen

[dont-offend-the-bees]

If the Shoe Fits, Then I Won’t Try It On

Omg I made it! Threw this one together today, so might not be my best! But thanks to my pal @every-moment-a-different-sound making these gorgeous gifs for my fic Outside Looking In, and also @wordsinhaled writing this lovely little fic inspired by it, I felt compelled to pop back in and give the disguise altar egos a little love! So this one is set pre-canon, about seven years into the boys' friendship/detective agency, and it's the first outing of the disguises (in their very early and imperfect forms! I like to think Charles has been experimenting over the years and the ones we've seen in show are just like, the latest versions!). It can really only be called case fic by the barest technicality but it's the best I got xD There's some nebulous Edwin gender-feelings, I'll leave it up to your personal preferences/interpretation whether it's a bit of transfem/nonbinary/genderqueer joy or just a boy's formative experience with drag, this baby can fit so much gender!! And references to fictionalised alcohol abuse, gambling and infidelity, but it's all just banter and tall tales, really. 2k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Perhaps we ought to rethink this strategy," Edwin muttered, fussing with his skirts.

"Relax, it'll be fine," said Charles. "No one's gonna suspect anything."

"They may suspect something," said Edwin. His voice sounded different, but the tone was one Charles had heard a thousand times before — pessimistic and haughty. Edwin seemed to pick up extra helpings of poshness when he was rattled. "They needn’t ascertain the exact nature of our ruse to know we're playing one."

"What? You think they're gonna be expecting someone to go in for fake marriage counselling?" Charles laughed.

"Stranger things have happened, Charles." Edwin spread his hand and swept it, gesturing between them and their magical disguises. "Q.E.D."

Charles looked at him blankly.

"Quod erat demonstrandum."

"Mate. They haven't taught Latin in that school for donkey's years."

Edwin made a noise of frustration — it had a bit of a high pitched, trilling quality with his fancy new vocal chords. "What I mean to say is that you and I are — figuratively speaking — living proof that real life is stranger than fiction."

"Well, yeah. But only to people who know ghosts exist," Charles reasoned. "And if this lady knew that, our client wouldn't've needed to come to us, would she? She'd've haunted the information out of her already."

Edwin exhaled, a quick, nasal huff like a bull, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His fingers bumped the chunky plastic frames of his enchanted glasses. "Pity. If she could see us, there'd be no need of these ridiculous costumes."

"I think we look brills," Charles beamed, proudly straightening out his big red rain mac. Sure, the disguises weren't perfect — he was still getting the hang of tweaking the enchantment. And yeah, he'd ballsed up his own bald spot at first, made it too big and just a little bit sort of... Australia-shaped. But all in all, he thought they looked mint! No one was gonna suspect them of anything, couple of old geezers. Who'd think they were a crack detective team?

Edwin was obviously having a harder time settling into character. He kept on faffing about with his unfamiliar layers of flowy clothing. Kept tugging on his little blue cashmere scarf, changing his mind on the drape of it — getting thrown whenever a tug of the fabric dislodged the waves of hair on his shoulders. Charles really hadn't got the hang of hair, just yet. He'd been aiming for something a bit classic and classy for Edwin, something honey-blonde and neatly coiffed. Instead he'd ended up with straw-like, brittle strands of peroxide white with... maybe just a hint of green. Charles would have to get that sorted out sharpish before they brought these disguises out again. Edwin would never let himself walk around looking less than his best if he had any say in it!

Charles turned to him, properly, grabbing Edwin's restless hands away from his scarf. "Eds. You look fine. Nice, even! Leave it."

Edwin glared at him, brow wrinkled. If Charles was being honest, the weirdest thing about seeing Edwin like this wasn't the fact that he looked blonder or older or, well. Like a woman. No, weirdest thing by far was how much thinner his eyebrows were. Charles had probably made them a bit too thin, he'd have to fix that, too. They were decent eyebrows! Visible, at least. But they were skinny and pale and neatly plucked, no little dusty dark hairs in between. Charles sort of missed them. He'd gotten used to those thick, dark brows scrunching up at him like grumpy caterpillars when Edwin was ticked off about something.

"It hardly matters if I look nice, Charles," he said, with a little belligerent flick of his hair that sent it flying. Charles probably should've made him a hairband or something — all long and loose, Edwin couldn't seem to get his hair off his mind. "But I do need to look convincing."

"You do! It's a good disguise, mate — made it special, didn't I?"

"I never said it wasn't." Edwin sighed, eyes fluttering closed a moment. Charles winced — maybe he'd overdone it a bit with the eyeshadow. There was a bit of colour-clashing going on, but hey-ho. Sort that in the next edit, too. "I am not concerned with the quality of the work, Charles."

"What is it, then?" asked Charles, dropping Edwin's hands to squeeze his shoulders instead. "What's got you all het up?"

Edwin shifted on his feet. His high heels clicked on the concrete porch. "I am merely concerned that I'm not... wearing it well," he said, a little bit through his teeth. "I don't want to compromise the entire investigation because I'm unable to act in a... befitting manner."

"Well, you're not gonna. Mate, you're doing brills." Charles smoothed down the big, floppy collar on Edwin's trenchcoat — he tried to do a Casablanca thing, but he might've gone a bit overboard — and grinned at him. "You're a natural. The way you stand all straight and that. Christ, you could've been walking in them heels for years! You're smashing it. For reals."

Edwin ducked his head, with the smallest smile. It was so Edwin that Charles could almost see the shape of him through the disguise; high, sharp bones under those rouged apple cheeks. Could almost spy that little spot on his chin. Actually, the chin wasn't a million miles off Edwin's own, with that barely noticeable little dimple in the middle. Maybe Charles had been taking some inspiration, subconsciously.

"I don't come across... peculiar?" asked Edwin.

"No. 'Course not." Charles sighed and patted his shoulders. "But look. If it's too weird for you, I can be the girl."

Edwin's brow twitched.

Alright. So maybe Charles could've worded that better. He coughed and took a step back, shoving hands in his pockets. "I mean, y'know. Bet I can manage it. How hard can it be? Probably won't be as like, chic as you, but I could give it a go."

Edwin pursed his lips, looking off to the side. He was fiddling with the rings on his fingers — maybe Charles had overdone them too, a bit.

"It... doesn't feel strange," said Edwin, quiet as a mouse. He couldn't seem to look Charles in the eyes. "It doesn't feel strange at all."

Charles smiled, all warm in the chest. Edwin had been a closed-off, buttoned-up sort of chap as long as Charles had known him — seven years and counting. Every time he offered up something of himself, Charles wanted to cup it in his hands.

"Oi," he said, gently, waiting for Edwin to look at him. "Suits you, mate."

Edwin smiled again, a barely-there twitch of his tinted lips. But he gathered himself quickly, clearing his throat and adjusting his scarf. "Well. We'd best be be getting on. We're due for our 'appointment' any minute now."

"Right."

"Shall we walk through the plan once more?"

"Go in, introduce ourselves, spin a backstory for a bit, make her think we're legit," said Charles. "Angle for a bit of one-on-one time. I keep talking, see if I can get her to slip up, drop us a hint — while you sneak off, search the office."

"Spot on," said Edwin, with a brisk nod. "According to our client, this woman writes down everything. No doubt she stores her more sensitive journals somewhere apart from the rest, somewhere discreet. Find the journals..."

"Find the body," Charles agreed, tilting his head side to side to crack his neck. "She'll have written down what she did with it for sure."

"Precisely. Right. That's the aim." Edwin steepled his fingers. "And we are...?"

"Edie and Colin Cromley," Charles replied, automatic. He should bloody well hope he knew that one — he'd had to put up with Edwin calling him Colin all night, trying to get him into character.

"Correct. And we are here because of discord in our marriage, resulting in my alcohol dependence and your extramarital affair."

Charles frowned. "Right..."

Edwin cocked his head a little. "Is there a problem?"

"You, uh. You ever actually been drunk before, mate?"

"Not as such, no," said Edwin, primly. "But, as we've quite thoroughly ascertained, I've never been a woman before, either."

Charles snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Fair point."

Edwin's manicured finger hovered over the doorbell. "Right. Are we quite ready?"

"Yeah," Charles mumbled, fidgeting on his feet. "Yeah, s'pose."

Slowly, Edwin lowered his hand. "Charles. We must be on the same page if we're to go inside and sell a convincing fiction."

"Just... feels a bit weird, is all."

"Why? You've always enjoyed undercover work in the past."

Charles shrugged. "Just... feels off. I wouldn't do that to you, y'know? Cheat, I mean. If we were married."

Edwin stared at him. "But we're... not married."

"Yeah, obviously." Charles felt all hot in the face, embarrassed. He should've just kept his big mouth shut. "Just saying, like — I wouldn't mess around on you like that. Or anyone," he added, quickly, because he was making things weird again, fuck's sake —

"Charles," said Edwin, amused. "Are you having ethical qualms about the character you're playing in this scenario?"

And alright, yeah. It sounded bloody ridiculous when you put it like that. Charles huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just — it's hard, yeah? Dunno how I'd even pretend I'd screw you around like that."

Edwin hummed, toying thoughtfully with the dangly end of his scarf. "Perhaps... I could play the unfaithful partner?"

"You want to?"

"... No. No, not particularly." He pressed his fists together. "Hm. Perhaps infidelity is the wrong narrative for Mr. and Mrs. Cromley."

"Not believable, is it?"

Edwin chuckled. "No. No, I suppose not. Hm. Back to the drawing board..."

Charles mulled it over, tugging on his earlobe. "How about... right, okay, how about, yeah, if I have a secret gambling problem?"

"That does feel more authentic — we've had plenty of words about your impulsive decision-making," Edwin teased. He nodded, eyes sharp as he formulated the new story in that big brain of his. "Very well, a gambling problem is it. You've been losing money at the races —"

"Reckon I'm more of a footie bloke. Big bets on the big games."

"You've been losing money at various sporting events," Edwin corrected, rolling his eyes. "And the extent of your debt has recently come to my attention."

"You should see how much I lost on the cricket world cup," said Charles, seriously.

"Oh, believe you me, I did. Hence, marriage counselling."

"And boozing."

"Indeed. I knew the problem needed addressing a month ago," said Edwin, fingers gesticulating as he spun his little yarn. "When I visited our local public house for a consolatory tipple and became positively sozzled on sherry."

Charles chuckled. "Sure you wanna go with sherry?"

"Is it not appropriate?"

"I mean. It's fine," said Charles, raising his hands. "Nothing wrong with it! Just doesn't sound like your usual sort of, uh, blackout drunk sort of booze. Never heard of anyone going on a sherry bender."

"Well, what would be your suggestion?" Edwin challenged.

Charles wasn't actually sure, come to think of it. What did middle-aged classy ladies drink to get sloshed? "Um... well. Me and the lads used to get pissed on White Lightning after school."

"Very well, then. I overindulged on White Lightning. Happy?"

"Aces."

"Right. Well, now that's all straightened out..." Edwin lifted his finger to the bell again. "Shall we?"

"Go for it."

Edwin rang the bell — and when he dropped his hand, Charles picked it up. Edwin looked at him, quizzical.

"What?" said Charles. "Meant to be a couple, in't we?"

"One in the throes of marital strife," said Edwin, a little smile on his lips. "I doubt we'll be expected to be affectionate."

"Right. 'Course not," Charles agreed — but he didn't let go.

Edwin chuckled, and stayed put. His hand felt small, smaller than it ever had the few times Charles had held it — usually when he was hauling Edwin out of harm's way. Small and bony, lined with soft wrinkles, dotted in sun spots. Couldn't be much further from Edwin's long, lean, smooth hands if it tried.

But it fit in Charles' hand just the same.

~~

Hope you liked it! Probs won't be one tomorrow unless I can whip up something suuuuper short/quick or I find an existing WIP to polish off, but there'll defo be fic on Sunday! Thank you so much for all your love and comments I seriously appreciate them beyond words 💛💛💛💛💛💛

[until-another-one-comes]

Angsty Milkplane idea where a doppelganger manage to sneak in the apartment and disguising itself as Steven. Francis comes home and is greeted by the doppelganger. He relaxes, glad to see his partner's face after a long, stressful day of work, and only had a split-second realisation that the person in front of him is not Steven - a flash of sharp teeth, a vicious glint in its eyes- before the doppelganger opens its mouth and covers the walls and floor of his house red.

Bonus point if Steven had gone out that day and come back to see the D.D.D. agents swarming the apartment, rushing inside- and found a covered, bloody body that he immediately recognize before feeling everything crashing down on him.

[lunarmoves]

Sobbing, screaming and throwing up cause half of the fic's you recommended haven't updated for a very long time or are discontinued 😭 I'm so scared to start any of them cause I can't handle a cliff hanger 😞

- (^⁠_⁠^) anon

aww that is understandable. you can filter by complete works in ao3, you just have to go down to 'completion status' in filters. however... i implore you to think about it this way:

there are entire stories you are missing out on when you avoid reading something that isn't complete! those incomplete and discontinued fics deserve just as much of a chance as the complete ones. they are just as important and they are always worth it in the end. even if the author may not finish it, i think having read something is better than having not read it at all, you know? because there could be one of the best plot points or scenes or interactions in that fic that you'll never get to read elsewhere.

being scared of cliffhangers is valid! i've found that they tend to dull with time, which makes them more manageable. in the end, a fic you read with a cliffhanger will get pushed to the back of your mind with the everydays of life. and it's always nice to speculate with the author via comments/asks! that kind of fandom interaction is integral to keeping art alive. and even if there is a cliffhanger in a fic, i think everything that comes before it is always worth the read.

and also--just because a fic has not been updated in a long time, does not mean it's discontinued or never will have another update again! it doesn't matter if it's been months or years. i've seen authors update after ages, myself included! you just never know. a comment also goes a long way. sometimes authors just need a push of inspo or motivation! i've read so many stories about readers leaving comments on fics that haven't been updated, the author seeing said comments, and then updating bc it gave them a push of motivation!

so don't be scared to read those incomplete/discontinued fics. they matter just as much!

[bi-writes]

ok i've done some light research. if you want a software engineer/fic writer's inital take on lore.fm, i'll keep it short and sweet.

my general understanding of lore.fm functionality:

they use OpenAI's public API. they take in the text from the URL provided and use it to spit out your AI-read fic. their API uses HTTP requests, meaning a connection is made to an OpenAI server over HTTP to do as lore.fm asks and then give back the audio. my concern is that i wasn't able to find out what exactly that means. does OpenAI just parse the data and spit out a response? is that data then stored somewhere to better their model (probably yes)? does OpenAI do anything to ensure that the data is being used the way it was intended (we know this probably isn't true because lore.fm exists)?

lore.fm stores the generated audio (i am almost certain of this because of the features described in this reddit post). meaning that someone's fic is sitting in a lore.fm database. what are they doing with that data? what can they do with it? how is it being stored? what is being stored, the text and the audio, or just the audio?

i find transparency a very difficult thing to ask for in tech. people are concerned with technological trade secrets and stifling innovation (hilarious when i think about lore.fm, because it doesn't take a genius to feed text into AI and display the response somewhere, sorry to say). and while i find the idea of AI being used to help further accessibility on apps that don't yet provide it promising, i find the method that lore.fm (and OpenAI) chooses to do this to be dangerous and pave a path for a harmful integration of AI (and also fanfiction in general -- we write to interact, and lore.fm removes that aspect of it entirely).

we already know that AI companies have been paying to scrape data from different sources for the purposes of bettering their models, and we already know that they've only started asking for permission to do this because users found out (and not from the goodness of their hearts, because more data means better models, and asking for permission adds overhead). but this way of using it allows AI to backdoor-scrape data that the original sources of the data didn't give consent to. maybe the author declined to have their fic scraped by AI on the site they posted it onto (if the site asked at all), but they didn't know a third-party app like lore.fm would feed it into an AI model anyways.

what's the point of writing fics if i have no control over my own content?

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

welp, it's done! whiteboard rules everyone, it's time to let it die o7

this was so much fun what the heck!! we gotta do it again sometime :0 thank you everyone who joined or was in some way a part of this experience!!<33333

[killerandhealerqueen]

To all of my readers who follow me both here and on ao3, I've decided to lock down my works with this whole new AI scrapping crap that's going on. I hate doing this (and it's the first time i'm actually doing it normally i wouldn't) but I'm sick and tired of people scraping ao3 to train their ai so...works are now locked down. If you want to read my stuff but don't have an account, please dm me, I have a few invitations left (or ask other ao3 users, I'm sure they have invitations to spare).

I know this is inconvenient (believe me, it's bullshit) but I'm protecting my work cuz I worked fucking hard on it and I'm not letting it be scraped

[local-diavolo-anon]

*throws this at u*

[spaciebabie]

im locking the porn fic folks. for my arts safety 😭

[unboundbnha]

I’m writing a Jason Todd fic that has everything I want. The foundation of the fic is love: it’s Bruce’s love for his long-lost son. But it’s love that’s gone wrong. It’s love, but it’s love for someone who’s gone (or never existed in the first place). It’s Bruce’s fear — of losing the people he loves, of losing what makes him feel like he’s making the right choices, of feeling completely lost, because admitting that he’s making a mistake, making MANY mistakes, well. That means he’s failed. He can’t fail. Not in this. Not again.

This fic is about love: one person begging the other to see them, to love them as they are, to help them in the way they need. The other person is suffocating the first because they love them. They love them so much and just want them to be happy, but happiness to them has a certain look. Happiness can only be achieved in the right way. It’s horrible and painful and frightening and sad. It’s a story about love. It’s a horror. It’s a ghost story. Don’t you see? In the end, it’s all about love. And how sometimes the people who love us are the ones who kill us.

[bittertomato]

Timeless Oath Chapter 21

XX. Deep Down

Summary: Diana and Akko divulge their plans to Bernadette and Alcaeus. Although they still disapprove, Bernadette has Alcaeus accompany Diana and Akko to collect the last items necessary to create the Talisman of Time.

Word Count: 11076

Warnings: N/A (the action is mild)

[ Read on FFN ] [ Read on AO3 ]

[tonyglowheart]

WAIT, FIC REC FOR Y'ALL-

okay you know that post that's like, no more catboys, washed up catmen? the one that's like- actually, hang on *clanging & banging of rummaging around* okay here, this guy:

Anyway, I present to you:

But. Okay read it. This is it. This is the washed up catman Bond fic.

[tacticianlyra]

okay so while I'm def still very on the fence on if I want to actually pick my TSS fics back up (partially because I've been stuck in Edit Hell with my non-TSS complete and absolute BEAST of a fic since last year and partially because I'm still hung up over even watching an episode) I'd be happy to take asks on either of them

The two fics are as follows:

Serendipity - what started as a stray what-if thought snowballed into more of a canon-diverging AU, based around the idea of Drew being the Kur reincarnation instead of Zak...except Zak still has powers, and that's where things get fun.

The Life and Times of the Pacific Coast Bird-People - AKA the Maximum Ride-inspired Wing AU, except I actually do more bird reseaerch because Hyperfixation. Lots of trauma-handling with this one, not always in the best way.

just note that I likely won't hold back with spoilers due to said fence position.

[heartstringsduet]

For the tarlos drabble..maybe a peek into the danger zone universe👀

Thanks for being invested in that fic still <3 Had to find y way in and this might not ever be a true part of a sequel because I had to speedwrite to meet my word count, but I had a BLAST writing this. But also...sorry???? 👀😂 The second inspiration is by @strandnreyes prompt for the Speak Now Writing Prompt song "Enchanted" and the line "Please don't be in love with someone else" - liberally interpreted. - Danger Zone Universe

Week 26 - Freshman Year - January

TK lays on the blanket, head in Grace’s lap and hums as his hair is tugged at playfully. UT students rush by, all a mass his eyes never focus on. He should be doing his first assignments for the semester, but he can’t be bothered to. 

Christmas break has made him long to be back and lose himself again in anything that isn’t the mess of his family. Christmas break has made him miss room 126, the meticulously made bed on the other side, the sink filled with only his stuff, the little pad of sticky notes and the cramped space of his own bed. He’s missed strong arms and the familiar little snores and being kissed like he was worth being known.

He misses sharing a room with Carlos. 

It was only made worse by how little time they had to give into the need that had built for months and months of fighting and pining. It’s the second week of the new semester, 10 days of sleeping in the same room, and neither of them has picked up where they left off. TK had felt too vulnerable for once to face rejection if Carlos didn’t want him after he had gotten his fill. TK just hadn’t had the strength to make a move after a week of pretending to be fine in his father’s new house and new life. 

And Carlos… Who knew why Carlos also hadn’t come into the room, pulled TK in and fucked him into the mattress until the neighbors hammered against their door.

Maybe it was a one time thing after all. Maybe once was enough to ebb Carlos’ curiosity. TK thought that maybe Carlos would be different. But in the end, they get what they want from him and they move on. It’s how he is, too. It’s okay. It has to be. They have four months of sharing a room to either go back to being in a war or at least be civil. 

TK has done a good job at pretending that everything is fine. Casual. Carlos is out of the room more often than not and when he’s in, TK slips in his headphones and quietly listens to a podcast, not even in the mood to provoke Carlos by turning the volume up. 

Nights are the hardest. He sees the silhouette of Carlos’ body under the blanket on the other bed and remember how it had felt to feel it against his back. They’d fallen asleep after a second round, Carlos first, then, TK, the arm around his waist keeping him warm and safe.

There’s a party tonight. There’ll be other guys. None which will make his blood boil or his mind go into loops. But there’ll be guys who will show him just how much they want him and that’s what he needs. 

Gracie’s hand in his hair is a nice comfort, a bandaid, but he feels like he is slowly bleeding out the longer Carlos and him are so goddamn polite and distant to each other. He doesn’t even feel like bringing the Danger Zone sign out. It’s tainted now that he thought they’d both use it together. 

So Carlos isn’t actually interested. So what?

TK will just have to find a bathroom or an empty bedroom tonight. Maybe someone who looks like the complete opposite to Carlos, so he can remind his body that it doesn’t truly desire it. TK doesn’t need shyness,  warm brown eyes, sweet fumbling and kind questions, leading into passion that felt incinerating.

All TK needs from tonight is to forget what it felt like the one moment he thought he was in love and loved.

“Darling? You sure you’re okay?”

TK hums under Grace’s gentle hands. “Yep.”

“Really? Been hearing zero complaints about a certain roommate and that is a trademark TK Strand thing.”

“We’ve been getting along this semester.”

“Hmm. That’s nice?”

“Yeah,” TK says, voice carefully light like he has learned to do for both his parents. “It’s nice. What about you and Judd? Didn’t he invite you over to his uncle’s ranch over New Years?”

Grace softly flicks his ear and says, “With a bunch of other friends. And you were invited, remember? So don’t get ideas, mister.”

“What ideas could I possibly have?” TK says, finding genuine joy now that they’ve wandered away from his endlessly hung-up mind. It’s easier to lose himself in trying to see the two friends - the one not-yet couple he might see an actual future for no matter how bitterness about romance was nurtured in him early on - get closer and closer.

They talk about the New Years party he was invited to but couldn’t go to because the night before, his dad had come home from chemo and TK had heard him wretch in the middle of the night. He’d sat up with him after the third time, both of them just watching TV with a tea in hand, silent but together. When TK has slipped into sleep, he’d dreamt of a funeral, of a tombstone, and he had woken up in fear that this was the last New Year’s he might have with his father.

It was a miserable night. Followed by a miserable night. But that had felt right to TK, matching the guilt he carried about being a bad son.

Hearing about the party doesn’t make him feel worse though. Hearing how much fun Grace had dancing on an ancient oak table that creaked under the weight of her and her friend, how they had given each other a friendly kiss on the cheek (yes, all of us, okay, yes Judd gave me one, too, DON’T SAY ANYTHING) and how they had all stayed over, having to sleep on the floor on blankets, TK thinks it’s what his friends deserve. 

He wouldn’t have been able to party the way he usually did with them anyway. Judd and Grace are worriers. The less they know of this side of him, the better.

Grace breaks off in the middle of telling TK about the one box of cereal fifteen of them had to share for breakfast the day after. TK looks up, confused, to see her smile and shout, “Carlos! Hey, Carlos!”

His stomach drops. She waves and TK feels it like motion sickness. He holds his breath until he hears a sigh. Grace finally stops shouting and mumbles, “Doesn’t even hear me.”

TK finally follows her gaze over. It’s in between classes, there are a bunch of people walking between one campus building and the next. It still doesn’t take TK’s eyes more than a second to find the familiar shape of his roommate. It’s the way Carlos moves, like each step is a bit weighted, like his shoulders have finally learned to stay straight, like he can part the sea of people without intended to draw attention.

TK’s eyes also find familiar red curly hair and a slight, sturdy body right next to Carlos. The world shifts upright, more motion sickness, as TK sits up. Carlos is laughing. Laughing at something Oliver is saying. He didn’t know they were talking anymore. Why would they be, after Carlos had chosen TK, had blown Oliver off to fuck him, after the Christmas party?

A question settles in and once it’s there, it’s all TK’s mind can think.

Is Carlos actually into Oliver? Is Carlos actually into Oliver? Is Carlos actually into Oliver?

TK’s hands curl into the dry grass and he rips at it until it comes up with the soil still attached. 

The anger will make him go into their room later, will make him want to not just peel up a corner of Carlos’ fitted sheet but rip it off and to shreds. Instead he will lay in his bed, hands over his eyes and hope he’s wrong. That even if Carlos isn’t in love with TK, he at least isn’t in love with someone else. He can live with the former. If his fear is founded though, then TK just lost a hope he thought he had squashed over the last two weeks.

[caffinatedstory]

Summer Rain

"The world moves fast these days..."

"Too fast," Denmark nodded in agreement as he lifted his gaze to the window, eyes following the raindrops racing down the glass. "But it's good to have these days... Reminds me of the old days."

------------

I've not written a fic in years... But I finally had some time so here! Have a tiny silly thing while I wait for the damn wax on my floors to harden...

-----------

The rain has been pouring down since morning, a perpetual blanket of fog clinging to the wet grass outside; and it seemed like all the animals had gone into hiding from the downpour.

While it was the middle of summer; Denmark was debating if he should ask Norway to light some fire in the fireplace. He brought the mug of coffee to his lips and took a small sip.

Norway was humming happily to himself in the small kitchen of the log cabin, preparing tonight's dinner with ease.

Denmark had no intention of joining Norway at 5 o'clock in the morning for a very wet fishing trip, but perhaps it was for the best. Norway seemed happy to be alone for a few hours and now Denmark was feeling extra pampered and taken care of.

"Need and help?" he asked and leaned against the door frame.

"Not really," Norway shruged as he rummaged through a cupboard. "It's not exactly Michelin star dining out here."

"It's looking pretty damn fancy to me," Denmark laughs and poked at a few unpeeled potatoes that Norway had tossed into an old metal tray with some sprigs of juniper and other spices he didn't recognise. The metal tray was most likely as old as the cabin, but that probably just added to the flavour. A few centuries of cooking grease was the secret to most good food when in a cabin.

"Can't go wrong with fish and potatoes," Norway smiled. "Hope it makes up for the horrendous weather... I swear I didn't ask any of the gods to give us such a downpour."

"I think I can handle a few days of summer rain," Denmark chucked and placed his mug down before sneaking his hands around Norway's waist and resting his head on Norway's shoulder, watching Norway expertly prepare the fish. "After all, a few rainy days just makes the sunshine feel so much better."

"That's what I've been saying for centuries!" Norway laughed. "And yet so few believe me!"

"You know how the southern countries are," Denmark chuckled. "They have it too warm and don't know how amazing rain and cold can be."

"I didn't hear any singing praises about the rain this morning,"

"I much prefer the rain when I'm inside and can view it from the window with a warm drink," Denmark huffed and pressed a soft kiss to the nape of Norway's neck. He could feel Norway shiver just a little from the kiss, but he kept preparing their dinner with no pause.

"Well, you're in luck, " Norway hummed and made a small motion with his hips to signal that either Denmark had to let him go or move with him.

Denmark clung to Norway like an overly affectionate backpack and followed him to the stove. "I believe the forecast says we have at least 3 more days of this weather."

"Oh good. Can't wait to just snuggle in bed and not feel bad for wasting away good weather doing it," Denmark wriggled his hands underneath Norway's shirt and smiled as Norway's ears went red.

"Keep this up and you're sleeping outside," Norway grumbled, but Denmark knew it was empty threats.

"With or without you?" he teased playfully as Norway made a feeble attempt at wriggle out of Denmark's embrace.

"Without me obviously," Norway scoffed and eventually managed to wriggle his way around to face Denmark.

"Liar. You love me too much to leave me out there with the tusse and trolls," Denmark smirked.

"Maybe..." Norway sighed and let his head rest on Denmark's shoulder. "But don't test me too much..."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Denmark laughed. "How long till dinner?"

"Twenty or so minutes?"

"Mhm." Denmark pondered for a second before giving Norway a chaste kiss to the top of his head. "I love slow days with you."

"Agreed," Norway sighed happily, winding his arms around Denmark waist. "The world moves fast these days..."

"Too fast," Denmark nodded in agreement as he lifted his gaze to the window, eyes following the raindrops racing down the glass. "But it's good to have these days... Reminds me of the old days."

"Here's to all the rainy old days, and the many rainy new days still to come, " Norway chuckled and met Denmark's gaze before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Denmark melted into it with glee; twenty minutes wasn't long, but it would be plenty for now.

Rainy days in summer definitively had it's perks.

[leenfiend]

Oh yeah, it’s all coming together