#but some things gotta simmer... and im learning this now

[sludgeguzzler]

Btw things will work out in the end and you don't have to address them all at once and on this exact moment. Sometimes things have to simmer a little bit

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 2 of 3)

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When you're done freshening up, dinner's already underway. The scent of vegetables and broth hits your nose, and the cold temperature left behind by the storm brings forth an additional hint as to what the monster's cooking up for dinner. You try to stay soundless as you sneak off to the kitchen and stand behind him, looking over his shoulder when you make it there.

"I can tell you're here, pal," Sans says, chuckling. 

He turns to you with a spoon held out in his hand. There's a sample of soup on it, waiting to be tested. The scent reminds you of having missed lunch break due to the stormy weather, with the hours it lasted bringing forth your boss's decision to call the rest of your shift off. You were supposed to be at your last meeting by now, but the rain and wind had proven to be superior, canceling all plans. Less work meant less pay, though you try to refrain yourself from worrying too much about that right now. "Taste it." He offers it out to you, still waiting. You, on the other hand, take a while to do anything, overthinking the situation as you then debate on whether to grab the spoon or taste it right off his hand. The first option had the risk of you brushing hands with the monster and spilling the soup in the process, yet tasting it right off his hand was almost unthinkable to do. 

Another thought pops into your mind, and that's whether it was fine to trust the skeleton by tasting the food and giving him the benefit of the doubt about it not being tampered with. Though you knew him for a few months now, it's still impossible not to acknowledge a possibility like that one. If a man you'd known for so many years had ended up leaving you, only to make a scene like yesterday's when trying to get back with you, who's to say a stranger with customs far different from yours wouldn't do something similar -- or worse?

You remind yourself of your main and original task: confronting him and the rest of the monsters over the choices they made back at the Underground, regardless of how charming and kind they were being with you currently. Sans was no less of an exception. This wasn't only for Frisk's safety and their overall state of well-being, but for your reputation as their parent -- and for your peace of mind, too.

You figure you've taken too long based on how the skeleton backs the spoon away.

His grin widens, and he then sips the contents off the spoon, leaving it empty. "I promise it ain't poisoned." He gives his back to you as he goes to wash the spoon, offering it to you after it's been cleaned. "You can taste it now." Sans moves aside, creating space for you to step forward and scoop a bit of the soup still bubbling in the pot.

Just as you're about to eat it though, he says, "I'm not the best cook around, so go ahead and lemme know if it tastes funny." 

A smile forms on your face when you hear that, captivated by the idea of him having no clue how to begin cooking, and even more considering he was at your home instead of his. If it was often difficult for beginners to cook in the familiarity of their own home, you can't imagine how it must feel doing that at another person's place. For a moment, you wish you could've seen him in the process of cooking, an opportunity you'd lost while you went off to shower and change.

When you taste it, what's missing drops into your thoughts; years of having cooked at home reveal the capability of identifying that quickly. You consider the suggestion and confirm what the soup's lacking when you clean up the spoon and take a second sample off the pot. "It's good," you say, setting it aside. "Just needs a bit of salt and more time to stew. The rest is fine."

"Thanks," he replies, hands going back to his pockets. "Paps wants to improve his cooking, so I figured I've gotta better mine some more before I teach 'im anything."

Again, your mind finds itself in a conflict. While it's charmed by the thoughtfulness of that comment, it's also clouded by the morose reminder of why you'd asked him to stay for dinner in the first place. To distract yourself, you add the missing ingredient to the soup and walk with Sans to the couch while it finishes boiling.

It feels strange to sit so far apart from each other, but he doesn't close off the distance, nor do you.

You prop a leg over the other and rest a hand over your knee, bouncing the one on the floor when you lack anything more to say. Your thoughts scramble around as you try to find a way to make the situation less awkward. When you glance back at him, you see it's something he also seems to want to end; your gaze meets with his when you both decide to look at each other's side -- synchronizing.

He shifts closer and you do the same, continuing until your hands touch.

Almost immediately, you pull back, yet your gaze remains locked with his, eyes drifting down to his teeth. Even as he gets nearer, you stay put, lost in your thoughts and the risky scenario unfolding. Your brain and heart scream at you to stop; your body -- conversely -- refuses to move out of its current spot and rebels by inching closer to him, until you're near enough to catch the scent of the only soap brand you often bought for showering: soft-scented, cheap, and antibacterial. It's strange to catch that aroma from someone other than yourself. Frisk preferred using a different kind, making the situation much more intimate than you would like it to feel.

You grab his hand again as he leans into you, only stopping himself when your back presses against the armrest. Then, he pulls his hand back and uses both to hold your shoulders and corner you right into place. Height difference makes it so that his legs stay knelt on the couch while yours hang off it, these tucked aside as you focus on the matter at hand. He brings himself closer as he tries to level out your heights, grip on you staying. The sound of your heart and of the soup simmering by the kitchen are the only two other things to keep your mind occupied from what's happening; anticipation makes your breaths waver.

As if the situation couldn't get tense enough, the door of the living room opens and in barge two people, leaving you in an iced state. 

Rather than Frisk and Toriel, it's Frisk and Jerry who stand at the frame, one casting a look of betrayal at the monster while the other scrutinizes the scene. You try standing up, yet the monster's hands hold you back, body held up over yours -- still cornered. His face reveals nothing but conflict, an expression similar to your state of mind regarding how freely to act with him. 

Jerry leaves without a word and shuts the door too slow for it to even click. Frisk does the rest of the job for him by locking it, checking it again, and saying nothing themselves as they look at you in the eye and sign, "Can we talk later, ren?"

Still in a tough position, you nod once, lacking strength or words to say anything out loud. 

Sans doesn't move even as Frisk disappears into the hallway.

You see his irises falter when you look at him; his gaze isn't fully there. A few drops of sweat are present on his forehead, and you can feel his hands grow colder with each second. "...Are you okay, Sans?" you ask, voice faint. "I, um... I think the soup should be ready now."

You hope that's enough to snap him out of it, only to have that contradicted when his hold on you stays. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he mutters, huffing, "I failed you."

Sans moves back while you sit up straight; silence returns. He stands up and goes to turn off the stove, all done within more time than you would expect as he chooses to stay there a few more minutes, staring aimlessly at the kitchen's wares. You rest your hands on your knees, and you wait to see what he does next. There's not much you can do now that you were caught in a moment like that one, and there's no time to beat yourself up over it, either. All you can do's admit your blame where it best seemed fit, and that was in letting your inner voice act before you. You'd given it your strongest efforts to wait until your first year of college to date Jerry, only to then wait until you had a stabler job by your second semester to actually do anything more serious with him, and later waited six more years alone, watching as Frisk grew up in your care for most of the time, only to let your wants show through now of all times.

Excuse through excuse -- be it valid or not -- you'd restricted yourself at every moment you saw possible.

All that, and yet it still felt as if you hadn't done enough.

You wanted to be stronger. 

"Frisk told me 'bout your situation," Sans says, distracting you from your thoughts. "Not whatever happened with Jerry, but the way you see monsters, and well… me, in general." He turns away from the kitchen and sits back down on the couch, looking directly at you, though for wholly different reasons than earlier ago. His hand stays over yours, more comforting than sultry. Were you to know him for any longer, you would've assumed he's holding his soul on his sleeve, yet you remind yourself he's still a stranger. "Maybe this's my habits showin' up, but if I were to judge you based on what they told me, I'd say you're labeling yourself as the bad guy." His fingers intersect with yours, squeezing your palm. "Of all the things I've gotten to learn about you, this's one of the least you should be blamin' yourself for. If anything, you're not exactly the only one responsible for all that's been happenin' right now."

Your breaths grow tighter the longer you keep listening to him. Your heart's racing again, yet it's not the same as before. The monster lets your hand go, continuing with, "I can't tell you just how different we are from each other, and how much I wish I had a fraction the amount of willpower you and your kid have." He sighs; a hint of a smile shows despite the furrow in his gaze. "You've got some things right about me, and one of 'em's havin' chosen to act too late. Being unable to be there for those I care about, more specifically." His nose cavity flares as he lets out a stifled laugh, remorse showing in spite of his best efforts not to let that happen. "I hate who I used to be, and even now, I still feel like I could've done more. I wanna try harder, but I don't have a clue on where to start with that."

Sans tries to stand up, yet fails to. He heaves out a breath as he closes his eye sockets and surrenders himself back on the couch; he rests his elbow over the armrest and lets his chin rest on his hand. After that, he looks back to your side, an apologetic gaze showing as his grin widens and his crease deepens, the way his monster anatomy worked allowing him to further display similar movements to that of a human narrowing their gaze. "Keep taking credit where it's due, (Y/N). And when you've got somethin' you want to improve, try your best to overcome it." He pauses, and the crease in his gaze lessens as he casts a fonder look at you. "Not that you ain't tryin' already. But you're still takin' up too much of the blame, and not realizing when you can be free. It doesn't have to be with me -- or anybody else, for that matter -- but try to live life a lil' more. Don't just dwell on the past and restrain yourself from stuff you want to achieve for yourself. You should live for you, just as you're tryna live for others."

He closes his eye sockets and brings a hand to his face, rubbing his forehead until he lets out a hushed sigh. Then, he opens them and straightens up on his seat, hands resting on his lap. There's a brief pause, broken when he breathes in again, saying, "...So a skeleton and a single parent walk into a bar," he takes another stop, continuing with, "One bares their skin to the bartender, earnest down to the bone," his breath hitches, yet he composes himself quickly, "the other sits back, looks into the past, and then wonders why he's feelin' so lonely."

He huffs and ends it all with a chuckle and an attempt at covering his face away from your sight. You stop him with the brush of a hand, taking his cheekbone when he turns to you. His body's shaking and a few tears escape his sockets, these he tries to wipe with his free hand, only for you to hold him back by doing that yourself. Caught in the moment, you kiss one of them away, the expectance of a salty taste proven wrong as you receive a hint of sweetness instead -- reflecting the memory of your day with him at the pâtisserie. His shoulders shake as he chokes back a sob, breaking down. His hands grab your back, bringing you in for a hug as he seeks more comfort. In that embrace, you can feel how his rib cage rises and falls at quick intervals, slowing down when you hug him back and wait until he breaks it apart.

The wait's as long as you expect it for someone in his state; the weight of his breaths diminish as he calms down and lets you go.

"Sorry about that," he comments, chuckling. "Wasn't really myself for a moment there, huh?"

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Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

AO3 Link

My Main Masterpost

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukexiety

Word count: 6.9k (Remus would be proud)

Story summary: A pseudo-songfic; 5 times Remus called Virgil high, and one time Virgil called Remus high.

Content Warning: Marijuana, Characters high on Marijuana, Description of the experience of being high on marijuana, Food, descriptions of eating, descriptions of preparing food, vague anxiety descriptions, insomnia, cursing, Remus Being Remus,(let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this is just. dorky fluff stuff. Idek lol. Enjoy

...

Virgil grimaced vaguely at his phone, which had begun to buzz periodically. More specifically; Virgil was glaring at the displayed name at the top of the screen, communicating who was currently calling him.

TrashMan 42069 is calling...

Remus never called Virgil. As in... never never. And even if he did, it was 7 am; Virgil sincerely doubted that Remus I-wake-up-at-2-pm-every-day Prince had ever been awake at this time of morning in his life.

The call didn't stop after 5 buzzes, and so Virgil picked his phone up, hurriedly accepting the call and pressing the phone to his face.

"uuum, hiiii...." Remus drawled from the other end of the line. Virgil scoffed under his breath. "I'll have a.... extra large cheese pizza, and another extra large with... extra anchovies...." Remus continued. Virgil genuinely couldn't tell whether Remus thought he was actually talking to a Pizza parlor employee or not, but more pertinently, he was very much disconcerted by the way Remus was acting. He had half a mind to ask if he'd hit his head on something, but... Virgil was gradually growing used to Remus' antics, and every time he'd asked out of his own anxieties in the past, Remus had been More Than Fine. He pushed his nerviness aside with a heavy sigh.

"Re, what are you doing?" his voice came out a bit husky, and Virgil realized this was the first time he'd spoken that day.

Remus didn't reply for a few long moments. Of course, this had exactly nothing to do with the fact that he was having a gay panic over the sound of Virgil's morning voice, which - again - was decidedly not happening.

"Haay Virge," Remus scarcely strung his words together, and they fell on top of each other as they rolled off his tongue in a quite klutzy fashion. It was almost soothing, in its way. "I thought if I pretended that you... that I was... that I thought you were a pizza man, then I'd forget to do... why I called you." Remus scrunched his nose to himself, taking his time to find his words, but eventually he got there. Virgil had been struck with realization part way through Remus' rambling, and was now scowling as if Remus could hear his facial expression through the phone.

"Remus, are you seriously high right now?" Virgil hissed.

"I mean... I think so... I definitely remember..." he pointedly enunciated each syllable of 'definitely remember,' before seemingly getting distracted by his thoughts. Virgil cleared his throat to prompt him. "...uhhhh... I don't wanna call you. Why did I... think that was...good." Virgil couldn't tell if Remus was talking to himself or not.

"Dude, go take a shower and... like, drink some water or something. I'll see you at work later. Please come in a better mental state than you're in now." Virgil hung up, setting his phone back down on his desk face-down, resuming his script read-through of the next production being put on at the theater he worked for.

Several hours later, Virgil was adjusting a few bolts on a light fixture, one of many all lined up on the long bar that he'd lowered from the fly deck earlier. He and Remus were stage technicians, and had both worked at this theater together for nearly two years now.

Remus burst through the set of doors off stage left, arms wide and his custom green tool belt slung over one shoulder like a sash. He bowed a bit dramatically to the stage and everyone on it (which, at the moment, was only Virgil; they were the only two in the theater, since Virgil regularly showed up early and Remus was here early too for once for... some reason) before stepping in long strides toward a burnt out light fixture, a few feet away from Virgil.

"You good?" Virgil murmured, feigning intense focus on a particular few wires. Remus had learned by now that Virgil was a man of few words and many thoughts; there was always a lot more to what he was saying than the small string of words he poured out.

"Heh. Sorry about that. I woke up in a funk, and though a wake and bake might... help. Didn't anticipate calling... you, though." he rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly, focusing his line of sight on the company logo branded into the lighting fixture. "Can't say it won't happen again though! If I call you when I'm that stoned it means I really, really like you," Remus waggled his eyebrows, winking (specifically to highlight his sarcasm - a wink was a telltale sign that Remus' words were entirely a joke) at an utterly deadpan Virgil.

"Sure." Virgil paused for a moment. "Why're you here so early though?"

"Huh?" Remus replied, finishing twisting the bulb out of the fixture before looking up at Virgil, who was now presenting his phone screen to Remus, showing him the time. "Damn! High me can get punctuality! I thought it was three, not  two... I was wondering why you were the only one here!" Remus had resumed his adjusting of the light fixture, hunkered over and partially upside down in a way that made Virgil's stomach churn. He only grunted in reply.

...

A recent sound design project had Virgil and Remus talking a lot more than usual - nearly every day. Virgil thought Remus would be a massive pain in the ass to work with, but he was a surprisingly diligent project partner. His ideas were often... eccentric, and at times too far-fetched, but they served as an excellent foundation. They clashed well with Virgil's taste and general groundedness (by extension, a minuscule helping of insecurity) that he brought to the table. They'd worked together over discord for the last few days, voice chatting and messaging through brainstorming sessions and developing their project.

It was 5pm, and Virgil was just beginning chopping some potatoes for a mash dinner when a message notification popped up on his phone.

TrashMan 42069 im tiiiired. gotta get up early to head into the theater, can we work tmrw mornin instead of tn ? wanna have an early night

Virgil smirked to himself, typing out a response.

since when do you sleep before 1am

but like, go off ig

see ya in the ams

Remus never responded, and Virgil resumed his chopping, and soon was plopping the potato portions into a pre-simmering pot.

Night arrived and fell entirely, leaving Virgil alone with his thoughts in bed, staring at the ceiling desperately as if it would put him to sleep. His bouts of insomnia made for horrible company, and yet another reminder of just how awfully lonely he truly was. He rolled onto his side, facing his bedside table just as his phone lit up and started buzzing.

Remus. Again. Odd. And it was... 11pm, according to the bleary text in the top corner of Virgil's phone screen. Not too bad, I might get to sleep by 2, Virgil noted to himself. He accepted the call before his drowsy brain could think through the decision.

"Shit, hi," Remus breathed. The usual sharp edge of his brash voice was gone, leaving soft, rolling words in its wake. Virgil sighed to himself.

"Hi."

"Did I awaken you from the sleep? I didn't think you'd answer..." Virgil recognized the drawl in Remus' voice then, but he didn't mind it so much. He was too tired to be grumpy about this.

"No, I couldn't sleep. I thought you were having an early night?" Virgil ran his fingers through his hair, rolling back onto his back.

"Ah... right... I told you that..." Remus spoke slowly, as if carrying each word, each syllable the way a mother carries her child. Virgil smiled softly into the darkness. "I was feeling like shit, so... I was just gonna, toke up. Knew I... wouldn't be able to... do any of the project... like this."

"Gotcha," Virgil mumbled. He had closed his eyes, letting himself ease into the sound of Remus' uncharacteristically gentle voice.

Remus started humming on the other end of the line, and that only proved to relax Virgil more. He felt himself grow heavy in the bed, limbs going slack and muscles and tendons untensing.

"Are you still alive?" Remus spoke suddenly. Virgil hummed.

"Yeah, I think so," Virgil said. "Your humming is putting me to sleep," he laughed lightly. Remus grew silent. "Uh, that's not a bad thing," Virgil resolved, "I have a hard time... sleeping, sometimes. Nothing usually helps. That's... uh, helping. If you wanna keep... humming, or talking..." As he spoke, Virgil realized just how weird what he was saying - what he was asking for - truly was. He cleared his throat. "Nevermind."

"I have nothing better to do right now, I can hum you to sleep, Virge," Remus' careful voice replied, ever so slowly. "If that's... what... you meant."

"Um," Virgil chewed on his hoodie sleeve absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he finally huffed, "I'd... like that."

Virgil anticipated a lot more awkwardness at this entire situation from Remus. But Remus was a generally oblivious person to awkwardness, seemingly especially so when he was stoned. He almost immediately resumed his humming, and Virgil was out like a light less than ten minutes later.

"Virgie? Did you go... fall into the sleep?" Remus asked after a while. When he was met with silence other than subtle, even breaths, he smiled to himself. He'd helped someone, even while he was like this. He truly didn't want to be doing anything else right now, so he just kept humming into the phone for a while. Maybe it'll help Virgil sleep even better.

The thoughts that an intoxicated mind produces truly are an enigma.

...

Remus and Virgil's sound design project was one of three being proposed to the directors and head technicians for the next production. The three were created as presentations, just the general idea of the design put together so that the one chosen of the three could be put into proper production by the entire sound team.

Virgil's and Remus' won.

They celebrated by indulging in a pizza lunch together before they were to head into work. A large, half pepperoni and half anchovies.

"Are those things actually good, or do you just eat them because everyone else thinks they're gross?" Virgil asked, chasing the floppy end of his next slice with his mouth. Remus grinned with a glint in his eye that Virgil knew all too well; it meant one thing, and one thing only. Mischief.

"Whah if ih's bof?" Remus spoke through his mouthful of anchovy pizza. Virgil scrunched his nose, punching Remus in the shoulder.

"Chew your food and don't talk with your mouth full, that's hecka nasty dude," Virgil laughed. Remus rolled his eyes in a very unconvincing manner, considering he was still smiling.

"Yef, mom," Remus spoke again through his unfinished mouthful. Virgil shoulder bumped him, and finally took the first bite of his next slice.

Not a week later, Virgil woke up rather late. Well, late for him; around 7am. He slapped a hand to his forehead, sitting up a little too fast. He set his hands on the bed beside himself to try and fight the onset of dizziness. After a few deep breaths and shaking his head and hair out, he reached for his phone.

No notifications, other than 2 missed calls from Remus, at 3:12am. Virgil sighed, laughing to himself slightly. He opened his messaging app.

why do u only call me when ur high lmao

...

Virgil was at the grocery store, milling through the dairy aisle, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He was surprised to see Remus' contact as the displayed caller ID, although not that surprised. Remus had called Virgil a few times while he wasn't high since Virgil had sent that message, usually to discuss theater-related things. Though, it wasn't like him to call at 8 in the morning. Virgil pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey Re, what's up?" Virgil said as he started checking the expiration dates on a few cartons of heavy whipping cream.

"Virgieee... Are you walking around with no shoes on?" Remus' voice was calm and subdued.

"Uh-" Virgil was so caught off guard by the question -and the petname- that he literally looked down at his feet to check. Nope, he'd definitely put on his black high tops that morning. "No? I'm at the grocery store. Wh... what?"

"I saw someone," Remus blurted, speaking slowly. Oh, right. Virgil's lips tightened into a annoyed-and-disappointed expression. Of course he's just baked again. "They looked like you, kinda... no purple hair... but jacket- or, i mean, sweater... uhhhm, no... what's it called?"

"My hoodie?" Virgil offered, glancing down at his purple patchwork hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah, that," Remus drew in a long heavy breath. "they had a hoodie." Remus stopped then, as if awaiting Virgil's explanation expectantly. Virgil scoffed.

"So. You saw someone walking around with no shoes on, who looked kind of like me only based on the fact that they were wearing a hoodie?" Virgil recited.

"Well, yeah!" Remus said as if offended that Virgil needed to ask. "They were black shoes, and... and the hoodie was... just like your black plaid one."

"The one that I like... never wear? How do you even... have you even seen me wear that?" Virgil didn't know why he was asking; he must have if he knew of it.

"You did," Remus started slowly, "one time. The pizza time. Said your other one was dirty." Remus spoke like a small child who was being scolded and felt really bad for what they'd done. "And I thought... maybe you'd... dyed your hair back. I don't know why." Virgil sighed.

"Okay? Well, I promise I have my shoes on, and my hair is still purple, and I'm not wearing that hoodie today. I'm at the grocery store right now." Virgil's voice was harsh and quick, and he immediately felt guilt drop into his stomach like a brick. He had no real reason to be this cross with Remus... he was just a bit cranky that morning. "Can I... pick you up anything while I'm here?" Virgil immediately cringed at his attempt at amendment. What a weird thing to say-

"Ooh! Are you at Trader Joe's?" Remus' voice had a newfound excitement. Virgil smiled to himself, glad that his fumbled recovery wasn't really very fumbled, thanks to Remus'... Remus-y-ness. "They have these chocolate truffles that are soooo good..."

Remus gave moderately incoherent directions to where the truffles were shelved, though Virgil knew his way around the store enough that it didn't matter. After a few minutes, he came upon a small red carboard box with cursive gold lettering and a picture of a chocolate truffle on the front.

"Found them. I... text me your address? I can be over in... well, soon. I guess I don't know where you live." Virgil invited himself over extremely awkwardly.

"You got it, sunshine! See you soon," Remus' tone was a lot lighter and he spoke more quickly and sharply, as he did when he wasn't stoned out of his mind. Perhaps the prospect of having his favorite chocolate truffles had granted him some mental clarity.

The call ended, and moments later, two texts came through from Remus. The first was an address, as promised. The second left Virgil with a familiar sense of blind confusion.

ill start heating the milk

Virgil slid his phone back into his pocket, humming to himself. He'd gotten all the items on his grocery list already, so he headed to checkout. Soon after, he was loading a couple bags into the back seat of his car, setting the two boxes of truffles for Remus on the passenger seat as he strapped in.

The drive was surprisingly short to Remus'; less than ten minutes. He triple checked the address when he pulled up to a three story Victorian house, three doors lined up at the top of a set of marble steps.

He took a breath or two, staring down at the boxes of truffles in his hands and reassessing his situation. You're standing in front of Remus' house like a massive dork because you felt bad for getting annoyed at him on the phone. You decided completely on a whim to bring him some chocolate - of all things, but at least he's the one who specifically asked for it - and show up to his house???? his house. Yeah, this totally isn't weird at all.

Virgil took the steps two at a time, ringing the doorbell at the door farthest to the right. He heard the chime from inside, followed shortly by a shrill screech. A few moments later, there was stomping sounds, and Remus came into view through the window on the door, trampling down the stairs like an eight year old rushing to an ice cream truck. He made it to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open.

"VIRGIE!" Remus yelped, looking ready to bear hug Virgil, but was quickly distracted into marveling over the boxes of truffles Virgil was clinging to his chest. "You bought two!? Gods, this is better than Christmas! Get in here," Remus stepped behind the door, allowing Virgil to step inside.

"Did you... screech, a minute ago?" Virgil asked, looking around. He and Remus were standing in what served as a tiny, tiny foyer, a small rectangle of flooring that gave direct way to a rather large flight of wooden stairs. Virgil could see a shoe cubby and coat rack at the top of the steps, and started stepping up them cautiously as Remus closed the door behind him.

"Yeah. People usually can't hear if I say words, like 'COMING!', so I just kinda... scream. It works!" Remus was tromping up the steps a few stairs below him, and Virgil quickened his pace.

"Got it..."

Virgil slipped his shoes off at the top, stuffing them in the cubby. "See? Shoes," he gestured to the shoes now fit snug in one of the cubbies. Remus smiled a bit too wide, nodding his head harshly. "I also don't have that hoodie on today," Virgil spread his arms, displaying his usual patchwork hoodie.

"I'm mainly glad your hair is still purple. It looks h- I mean, I like it." Remus coughed slightly to himself before stepping around Virgil, starting to sock-slide down the hardwood floor hall. "Kitchen's through here! The milk should be ready!"

Virgil laughed to himself, stepping into the hall to follow Remus' trail. He came upon a slightly ajar door, and seeing a glimpse of a stovetop, he slid into the room.

"I also made some whipped cream!" Remus gestured behind himself at a bowl of whipped cream on the counter as he stirred at a simmering pot of milk.

"What's... what's it for?" Virgil asked slowly, feeling like he missed something entirely.

"Oh! Right," Remus seemed to realize he hadn't filled Virgil in. "The truffles are so frickin good by themselves, but I discovered - sort of by accident, don't worry about it - that they make the best hot chocolate. And I... well, I figured we could have some!" Remus spun around at the last part, saucer of milk in hand and smiling a bit maniacally at Virgil. He stepped over to the counter where there were two mugs beside the bowl of whipped cream. "Bring them things on over here. This show can't go on without the starring role."

Virgil shuffled over to Remus, setting the truffles down beside the whipped cream bowls. He felt the need to speak, but couldn't think of any suitable words.

"one or two? I usually do two, I like mine real rich," Remus said, tearing open one of the boxes of truffles.

"Two," Virgil coughed. Remus smiled brightly at him again.

Virgil observed Remus' process. He plopped two truffles into the bottom of each mug - in the process, popping one into his mouth and offering another to Virgil, who accepted - before pouring the steaming milk over them, nearly to the brim of both mugs. Virgil hadn't expected the truffles to float, but there were two bobbing brown balls rolling around on the surface of the steaming milk in each mug. Remus retrieved a small spoon, stirring gingerly as the truffles rapidly shrunk and dissipated into the darkening milk.

"Will you grab the chocolate syrup? It's in the door of the fridge," Remus commented, beginning to spoon whipped cream onto the surface of the hot chocolate. "Oh, and- nevermind, I got it." Remus reached into a drawer beside him, pulling out a small cheese grater.

Virgil returned with the chocolate syrup, setting it beside Remus' arm.

"Check this out," Remus said, pulling another truffle from the box. He started grating it over the whipped cream dollops, and it gently snowed chocolate shavings. "Isn't it pretty?" Remus glanced at Virgil as he switched mugs.

"Yeah," Virgil breathed, watching the little flakes fall and settle on the surface of the whipped cream.

Virgil felt himself becoming infinitely more relaxed and less anxious the longer he basked in Remus' presence. It had always been this way with him, although maybe it was slightly amplified now that they were alone. He leaned himself on Remus, chin on his shoulder. Remus didn't react, other than softening his movements significantly, as though he were afraid he'd scare Virgil away.

"Yes, yes, yes! Man, this is the good stuff!" Remus exclaimed as he squirted a trail of chocolate syrup over the flakey rain on the whipped cream mountains. Virgil chuckled, reaching for the mug nearest him. "Hey! Not yet!" Remus batted his hand away lightly.

"What else could you possibly want on hot chocolate? Come on, it's getting cold," Virgil whined. Remus only smirked.

"Pantry, top shelf, you'll know it when you see it," He spoke, glancing at the cupboard door a few paces away. Virgil stepped toward the pantry cautiously, opening the door slowly. There, presented proudly on the top shelf, was a bag of mini marshmallows.

"Oh fuck yeah," Virgil reached up, realizing he was far too short to reach the bag. "Uh, one sec," he said, stepping entirely into the pantry, reaching up with all his might. Even stretching as far as he could, he barely reached the base of the top shelf.  Remus chuckled from over by the mugs.

"Here, let me help." Remus came up behind him, making to reach over Virgil's head just as Virgil tried to step out of the pantry and out of Remus' way. Virgil essentially walked right into Remus' chest, face to face with his stubbled Adam's apple as he reached for the mallows easily.

Virgil was frozen in place, feeling his face grow hot. Remus looked down at him, suddenly realizing their physical predicament.

"Shit! Sorry!" Remus stepped back, mallows in hand, giving Virgil more than enough room to step out.

"s'fine, don't worry," Virgil mumbled, cheeks red and staring wide-eyed at the floor. Remus laughed a bit nervously, stepping back over to the mugs and beckoning for Virgil to follow.

Once their mugs were properly marshmallow'd (although not s'more'd; neither wanted to go full Ned Flanders on this rainy Saturday afternoon) Remus led Virgil out of the kitchen and further down the hall, to the door at the end which opened up into Remus' bedroom.

Virgil didn't know what he was expecting Remus' personal living space to look like, but whatever it was it wasn't this. There was a very cozy-looking bed that took up most of the floorspace, and a very soft patterned rug at the foot. Against the far wall, beside a wide windowsill, sat an equally cozy-looking loveseat. There were blankets and pillows absolutely everywhere, crowding the loveseat, covering the bed and turning the windowsill into a cozy sitting nook. There was no other furniture, aside from a rustic-looking wooden bedside table that matched a small, overstuffed bookshelf. The walls were entirely covered from floor to  ceiling with posters, art pieces, the like; but more than anything, sketches. Scores upon scores of sketches covered every wall, pinned up with colorful tacks and a certain few of them connected to others with  small segments of colored string. As well, strung up on some of the hardier tacks were a few strings of fairy lights. Those, plus the salt lamp set on the bedside table made for some extremely lovely mood lighting.

"Woah," was all Virgil could say as he looked around in wonder.

"This is where the magic happens," Remus shoulder shimmied, sidling around Virgil to sit cross-legged on his bed, beginning to nurse his cocoa as he set down the boxes of truffles. Apparently they were far too precious to keep in the kitchen, where Remus' brother could very well steal them.

"Yeah..." Virgil stepped up to a particularly large sketch, one whose tack was connected with string to several others. Something occurred to him. "Are these..." He gestured vaguely at the walls, "are these all yours?"

"All the sketches, yeah," Remus breathed, hiding behind his mug as he took a large sip. He watched Virgil over the brim as the man stared in complete awe.

"That's..." Virgil couldn't think of the right words, and so drew a large sip of his own cocoa. Remus was right, the truffles made for an incredible hot chocolate. He sighed slightly, smiling to himself.

Remus finished his cocoa, tilting his head back to slurp at the residue and remaining whipped cream as he leaned back on his bed slightly. Virgil smirked behind his own mug, licking at his whipped cream.

Remus set his mug beside the salt lamp on his bedside table, beckoning for Virgil to sit with him on the bed. Virgil did, cross-legged an leaning against a pillow that was propped against the wall. He glanced to the windowsill nook.

"You got something of a view," He murmured, craning his neck slightly to see out the window. Remus giggled.

"Yeah! That's where I saw mx. no-shoes earlier." He smiled at Virgil giddily.

"Oh, I see." Virgil smiled back. "Well, I'm here now, purple hair and truffles in the complete package," he spread his arms slightly, and Remus' smile turned into a full grin. He retrieved a truffle from the open box and popped it into his mouth, then throwing a second one at Virgil. It hit him in the chest, and he picked it up, starting to gnaw at it. "You were right, these are super fricking good," Virgil mentioned, taking another large gulp of his cocoa.

"I know right!? Where have you been all my life, beloved truffles," he picked up the unopened box and held it high in one hand, beginning to serenade it. Virgil laughed at him, slapping him on the arm.

"You're a massive dork."

Remus' eyes glinted. "Well I-" He stopped short, the glint disappearing as soon as it returned. Virgil watched his face. No, no dick jokes right now. He gulped and cleared his throat, retracting his arm and pulling out another two truffles from the other box. He held one of them out to Virgil on the palm of his hand. Virgil took it carefully, holding it between his fingers as he took the final sip of his own cocoa.

"Here," Remus reached his empty hand out to take Virgil's mug, setting it beside his own behind them on the bedside table. Remus resumed chewing his truffle, watching the comforter shift with his weight as he leaned back and forth slightly.

"Can I?" Virgil pointed to a few more sketches over the head of the bed. Remus nodded. Virgil got up onto his knees, nearly pressing his chest into the wall as he looked at the many sketches.

Remus got up onto his knees too, sort of knee-waddling over to Virgil's side. Virgil's eyes continued scanning the sketches before they fell onto a particularly familiar looking one. His breath caught in his chest. He reached up to it, tracing the familiar purple plaid of his very own patchwork hoodie. Remus cleared his throat from beside him.

They both spoke at the same time.

"Um, you should probably know that-"

"Remus, I wanted to tell you-"

Virgil turned to look at Remus then, and belatedly realized just how close together they were. Remus' lips were pursed, and Virgil could see that he was chewing at the inside corner of his mouth.

Virgil drew in a breath to speak as Remus moved slightly closer. Pursing his lips shut, he changed his mind, deciding to take a risk.

He surged forward suddenly, shutting his eyes. Remus met him in the middle, and just like that, they were kissing.

It was soft and still at first, lips pressed firmly into each other's. Remus reached one hand up, gently cupping Virgil's cheek.

Virgil pulled back suddenly, but Remus' hand didn't leave his cheek. "I-I'm sorry, I really should've- asked- I meant to say things, i mean, before-" He stopped as Remus set his other hand on Virgil's waist. His face looked incredibly soft and gentle, lips parted slightly as he looked at Virgil like he'd hung the moon.

Virgil intertwined his fingers on the back of Remus' neck, and Remus pulled Virgil back into the kiss.

...

two days later, Virgil was up late again, unable to push himself into unconsciousness. His body was restless even if his mind was exhausted - or perhaps it was the other way around, his mind restless and his body exhausted? He really couldn't tell.

It was nearing 3am, and he was sitting curled in on himself, hugging his knees as he watched the stars out his window. His phone, face-down on the bed beside him, began buzzing.

He tilted his head, sighing as he fought an oncoming wave of exhaustion. He picked up the phone, flipping it to see the caller ID, although part of him hoped knew who it would be.

He pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Remus."

He heard Remus gasp on the other end of the line, before murmuring a small "hi."

"I... are you not sleeping good tonight?" Remus' curious and confounded expression was almost palpable through the phone. Virgil smiled lazily, recognizing Remus' demeanor immediately.

"No, I'm not, but that's okay. The stars are pretty tonight." Virgil paused, scratching at his chin a bit. "Are you stoned again?"

A long pause. "Yeah," Remus blurted. "Sorry I... I nodded, but then, I realized... you can't see me."

Virgil smiled to himself again. "It's okay."

A long, comfortable silence followed. Virgil was too tired to feel the obligatory need to make conversation, especially with Remus. He'd be a fool to expect any awkwardness after a make out session with the spontaneous blob that is Remus, but he'd still been nervous to see or speak with him again. That all melted away now though, exhaustion and vague contentment taking its place.

"Virgie - uh, Virgil?" Remus piped up after a while, rousing Virgil from his trance.

"Yeah?"

"Do you, remember..." Remus trailed off, and didn't speak for long enough that Virgil almost responded to prompt him. "Did you come to my house, and also, kiss me, or was that a dream?" Even through his stoned lilt, Remus spoke a bit quickly, like he was trying to shove the words out of his mouth before he could change his mind.

Virgil chuckled. "That wasn't a dream, Remus. Yes, I remember." I don't think I could forget it if i wanted to tried.

"Oh." Virgil could hear the smile in Remus' voice. "Can we- I mean, do you want to, uh, do it again? Some time?" he didn't sound hesitant, no; just hopeful, and perhaps as though he felt like he needed to be excessively gentle. It was the sweetest tone Virgil had ever heard.

"I'd like that," Virgil smiled.

Remus sigh-laughed on the other end of the line, and Virgil's smile grew. "Cool," Remus said almost under his breath.

Virgil didn't do it consciously, but a big, loud yawn decided to worm its way out of him at that moment.

"Are you sleepy Virgie?" Remus asked in a strange partial baby voice. Virgil snorted at him.

"I'm literally always tired, so if the answer was no, that would be more concerning," Virgil quipped, but his voice sounded spent. Remus giggled a little.

"Can I hum to you?" Remus asked, smile still discernable in his tone. Virgil felt something warm spark in his chest, like a lighter being flicked and lit.

"I'd like that a lot, too," Virgil murmured, curling up beneath his covers as Remus started to hum.

He was out like a light in less than 5 minutes.

And if Remus stayed on the line for another half hour or so, humming to him and listening to his even breaths, who was to know?

...

Virgil felt like an idiot.

That wasn't an entirely rare feeling to him, but this particular time was different.

Despite his general edginess and rebel-against-society vibe, Virgil had never touched a drop of alcohol or gone near any intoxicating substance in his life. Until today.

He'd been Remus' boyfriend for almost three months now, and it was everything he could have hoped; haphazard night trips to convenience stores that ended in oddly romantic motorcycle rides, the odd gestures Remus's... eccentric mind came up with, and Virgil was in dire need of more hoodies he could let Remus steal. All this, but Virgil was still Virgil. He still had his anxiety disorder, he still dealt with insomnia. Though, sleeping in Remus' arms was proving an impressively effective remedy to the latter.

So, when Remus suggested Virgil look into the medical benefits of marijuana in regards to both anxiety and insomnia, Virgil was... intrigued, to say the least.

He did find a lot of supporting evidence through his research, and... well, he thought, what the hell, right? If Remus smokes it pretty much every day, and if this many articles are claiming its reliability... what harm would it do to try?

So here he was, sitting on his couch, having taken a couple of edibles, waiting for the high to hit him. His hand ghosted over his jean pocket, assuring himself that his phone was there in case he needed to call 911 or something. He was trying to do breathing exercises to maintain some sort of calm, but sitting still wasn't his strong suit.

He'd chosen edibles since he didn't want to have to deal with the whole... smoke and coughing side of things. And he really didn't like the sound of vaping. He figured this would be fine as an introductory experience, but he realized that he had no clue when the edibles would kick in.

He pulled out his phone, typing into google.

Marijuana edibles generally take 30 minutes to an hour to induce any psychological effects on the consumer.

Oh.

Well, he figured, there was no way he could sit still for that long.

He stood, deciding he'd make himself some dinner. Something to busy his hands with, and the leftovers he'd planned on heating up would last another day or two anyways.

He settled on some fettuccine alfredo, fairly simple but one of his childhood favorites. He had a feeling he'd appreciate the comfort food while he was... in an altered state of mind.

Virgil, however, hadn't accounted for the fact that he had an almost unnaturally high metabolism, and before he'd even gotten the pasta in the boiling water, things started to get a little funky.

The first thing Virgil noticed, before he'd even registered that the edibles were kicking in, was how he could hear his thoughts. Not literally, but it felt as though his stream-of-consciousness thoughts were more slow and clear to him, as though he was speaking directly to himself.

As he thought this, his vision suddenly came into alarming focus, and felt oddly like an unstable skyscraper. He stared down at his feet, and they seemed so far away, the floor looked far too far away... He gripped the counter nearest to him, trying to steady himself even if he wasn't actually falling. He didn't feel like he had any control over his center of balance, and even if he was mostly stock-still as a pencil, he thought he might fall down at any moment, down the many stories of building beneath him. But there was no stories beneath him... it was only his legs, which he didn't remember being so long. He stared a little harder at his feet. They weren't abnormally far away, were they?

Virgil vaguely registered the sound of over-boiling water as the realization hit him.

Oh. So this is what it's like.

He turned so that his lower back was stable against the counter, sliding slowly down onto his butt. Standing didn't feel safe right now, even if that made no sense.

He didn't really like this. He felt so isolated, so alone in this moment. He was too out of it to focus hard enough on those thoughts for them to really take root, but he was generally aware of them. So, he did the first thing he could think to do.

He pulled his phone very slowly and carefully out of his pocket, as if he thought it was a brittle sugar cookie. He stared at the dark screen for a solid minute, wondering why it wasn't turning on. Then he realized he had to actually touch the screen for that to happen, and so he did.

From there, it was relatively easy; he unlocked his phone, found the calling app, scrolled around a little haphazardly up and down the contact list before finding Remus' contact.

If anyone could help him feel less alone, if anyone knew what he was experiencing... it would be him.

He took a deep breath and held it as he pressed the call button, bringing the phone to his face as it rang.

It only rang twice before Remus answered. "Hello, Jack Skellington! What can I do for you this evening?" Remus' voice sounded a little extra mischievous, and Virgil couldn't even begin to place why.

He was quiet for a little too long, vaguely trying to decide what to say. "Hi." Not the most eloquent, but it worked for a start.

"Hi," Remus replied, the troublemaking lilt of his voice dissipating slightly. "Is everything okay, Surly Temple?"

Virgil giggled a bit. Your brother is funny. You keep stealing his nicknames for me. "I'm, yeah. Sorry, talking. it's hard. Right now." Virgil spoke haltingly, each word firm but isolated from the last.

"Hmmm..." Remus stroked his mustache from the other end of the line. Virgil giggled again, realizing he couldn't actually see Remus stroking his mustache, but could imagine it vividly all the same. There was no doubt in his mind that he was doing exactly that.

"Oh, 'm high," Virgil added quite belatedly.

"Oh! Well that makes a lot more sense!" Remus laughed, but quickly composed himself again. "What are you doing? Are you feeling okay? Is this your first time? What's happening?"

"Skyscraper," Virgil replied matter-of-factly, as if that cleared the air entirely.

"...right..." Remus replied slowly. "Stormcloud, is it okay if I come over? I don't... I want you to be- uh, to feel safe right now."

"Yes, please," Virgil clung to the phone like it was Remus' arm. "I miss you I'm kinda scared," his words slurred together, but at least he managed to say something slightly coherent. Remus grunted in acknowledgement.

"Okay. I'll be there in ten. Want me to stay on the line?" Virgil could hear shuffling around in the background.

"What're you doin?" He asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the refrigerator door, since he couldn't actually look at Remus.

"Putting on my shoes, silly! What room are you in right now?" Remus replied, a sense of protectiveness twinged in his voice.

"Kitchen. floor." Virgil swirled his fingers on the wooden floor.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay- oh, fuck it. I'm staying on the line till I get there, okay Virgie?" Virgil heard the sound of a door slamming, followed by vague trafficky noises.

"You're coming," Virgil spoke, registering it in his mind finally.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Remus repeated, and the sound of Remus' car starting sounded shortly after.

Virgil smiled at nothing. "I love you."

The words were a bit slurred together, but he heard them out of his own mouth loud and clear. He almost clapped a hand over his mouth, a little horrified that he'd just said that.

Sure, he'd known he loved Remus for a while now, but they hadn't said it before. He'd almost said it, once, earlier that week while he was laying in Remus' arms on a drowsy Sunday morning, watching the lines of his face shift and harden as he slowly woke up. But he didn't. And now he'd just gone and said it, while he was stoned out of his mind for the first time, sitting on his kitchen floor about to break into tears-

Remus' voice, a little bit strained, interrupted Virgil's thoughts.

"I love you too."

A pause. "I'm almost there, okay? Everything's gonna be fine."

Virgil snuggled down further into his hoodie.

"I know, cus you'll be here."

[renegonbeatrix]

i need to find the THING that does it for her.

ive been thinking about it and her loyalty to the alliance won't be broken with time. yes there will be simmering resentment post war, but there's always been simmering, repressed resentment. that won't change. yes she'll have a wider support system. it's not enough. she will justify and justify and minimize her own frustration until she dies of old age.

UNLESS

there's something thats the last straw. and whatever it is, it cant be just surrounding one or a few alliance folks, bc otherwise she'll just be able to say it wasnt the alliance as a whole. and it has it touch on one of the things that will provoke her like nothing else.

it's gotta be something about cerberus. either about cerberus as a whole or someone/some few within it. no matter how unfairly the alliance has been to her or others, beatrix has continually been able to separate it from cerberus. good vs evil. she knows it started as an alliance black ops thing, but its origins aren't enough. she learned that early, and it matters less how it began than what it became. but if the alliance was more in the know, if they withheld certain things, if there was more overt tangible overlap in leadership or connections...

she needs to not have that line between the two anymore. as soon as that line is broken, the floodgates will open and everything will come out. every bit of resentment, everything that rankled her but that she told herself was for the best or above her pay grade or ultimately forgivable.

but the issue is idk what that would be. obviously there's a lot the alliance has done wrong, there's no shortage of that, but the specific type of thing i need im not sure where to find it. especially considering the writing frames the alliance so positively.

so im finally gonna read the novels, im gonna reread the comics, do some digging. bc having beatrix never break free from the alliance is an idea that bothers me, it's an unfinished aspect of her that i havent explored bc i couldn't quite figure out how it would happen. and now that i have, i NEED to find the exact breaking point.

[sun-stormz]

Genshin Impact Visions & Gods

This has been bugging me since i started playing in mid november, but what makes a certain Archon give a Character their Vision. Considering i couldnt find any official info, I decided to do some research on each Archon and then on the player Characters we have of each element as of beginning of December 2020.

This will contain spoilers on characters & story!

Note: The travelers will not be included due to them not having Visions and having more then one Element.

I am basing this on overlaping themes and not on anything related to the actual Archon. I did add some info on the archons tho, due to this being about Visions and archons

“It is unclear whether Visions are directly granted by its element's corresponding Archon or by the nation's Archon. There is also the possibility that granting a Vision requires approval from both Archons. Yet another possibility is that they are granted by neither, and are instead given by the gods on Celestia.”

-Genshin Wiki on reciving Visions

Starting with my Favourite Element, Electro.

Electro wise, We have five Characters as of right now: Kequin, Razor, Beidou, Fishl and Lisa. The Electro Archon, God of Eternity, Baal, is the ruling Archon of the Area, Inazuma, whitch is the area we are getting in the 1.4 update in 2021.

To start off i read into any info i could find on Baal and i gotta say, she is a interesting Fellow. As of right now we know that Baal has locked Inazuma down and has initiated a Vision Hunt Decree, due to her thinking Visions should be under the sole domain of divinity. She also hasnt handed out any Visions since this decree which means all Electro characters we know have gotten theirs before this drastic change.

Now, why did these 5 characters get their Visions? Well each character has a different reason, from Razor wanting to protect those he calls friends to Lisa simpley saying it would be of use to her and just getting it. From what I've found there isnt really a big overlap in the reciving of the characters, but what is overlaping is their fixation on something.

Razor recived his vision due to him being fixated on getting stronger to protect his friends after he failed to while being dragged away by an abyss mage

Kequin was fixated on sharing her beliefs, that the people of Lyiue shouldnt rely on Rex Lapis and have their Pride and that their views are of Equal importance

Fishl was so fixated on a book series she changed herself to be like the main character, fishl and her Vision manifested in the form of Oz, one of the characters from said book

Beidou was fixated on killing Haishan, a sea monster, from a young age and recived her vision when she did so

Lisa is pretty much fixated on understanding magecraft and the cost of reciveing a Vision.

Now onto a easier Element, Geo

The Archon of Geo and Contracts, Morax, Archon of Lyiue.

Morax or Rex Lapis, was one of the oldest gods, defended Lyiue in the Archon war, the Currency in Teyvat, Mora, is named after him and as of Chp.1 Act 3 we know that he has taken the form of Zhongli and has retired as the Geo Archon.

Morax, Along with Barbatos, are the only two Archons of the Original Seven that havent been replaced.

Now, who are our Geo Characters? Noelle and Ningguang, two dedicated powerhouses! This one is fairly simple, thanks to voicelines we have of Zhongli since he came out as a player character (Bless the pity pull for giving me this man)

In his “About Ningguang” Voiceline he says: ”Despite the multitude of affairs she deals with in a day, Ningguang always continues to press on. A rare gem indeed. I'm reminded of the time that she used to walk barefoot from Yaoguang Shoal to the south wharf, trying to sell her wares as she went. Time is cruel to humans.”

Noelle recived her vision when Jean Acknowledged her hard work when she tried to get into the knights of favonius. in her “Vision” story it states: This was a lucky day that she would always remember, for she would receive recognition from two all-important sources this day: once from Jean, and the other from the gods. Her hard work has been remembered after all.

So for short: Hard working and dedicated = Geo Vision

Next up we have Anemo

Our wonderful Tone deaf bard, Venti or otherwise known as the Archon of Anemo and freedom, Barbatos, the not really ruling Archon of Mondstadt.

Barbatos is a freedom loving guy and refuses to rule over Mondstadt, the city of freedom and is by far the weakest of the Archons, despite this the people of Modstadt still love and adore their windy God.

I went into this one thinking “Oh this is easy, itll be love for freedom or something!” Nope, it surprisingly wasnt. Jean and sucerose recived their visions through their Determination it seems. Sucerose from doing her 159th Dandilion seed Simmering experiment and Jean seemed to be determened to be a good grandmaster and to protect Mondstadt.

That aside, i couldnt find many overlaps with the two, they are both free spirited and love what they do.

Now on to Pyro

Pyro, the Element of the Archon Murata who is also the god of War, is wielded by the fan fav Diluc, as well as Klee, Xiangling, Amber, Bennett and Xinyan.

Not much is known about Murata, Venti describes her as a “ wayward, warmongering wretch” and thats about all we know. She presides over Natlan.

Now to the characters, this was acually the easiest of them all: Passion.

Every Pyro user has a huge amount of passion that a rolemodel or Loved one ignited within them.

This one definitly surprised me the least and i am really excited for when we meet Murata and Natlan.

Diluc has the same passion his father had

Klee has a passion for Explosives that her mother ignited

Xiangling has a passion for food and cooking she got from her father

Amber got her Passion for Mondstadt and the outriders from her grandfather

Bennett got the Passion for adventure from all the old adventurers he calls dads, yes Dads as in plural, that raised him

Xinyan has a passion for Rock, tho i havent found out more of her story due to her being so new.

Now heading onto Hydro

Hydro, along with Dendro, is the only element where we do not know the name of the Archon. All we do know is that they are the Archon of Hydro and Justice and rule over Fontaine.

So straight to the Hydro characters: Barbara, Mona and Xingqiu.

I dont really count Childe due to the only thing talked about is his dilusion and i am rather confused on if he even has a real vision but i still love him lots

Im going to be honest this one really had me running the brain gears for a while.

All three recived their Vision as an extension of the self.

Barbara  got hers after helping a sick boy by singing to him to help him sleep through a fever, Mona rekindeled a learning aid to her vision, to aid her with her search for the truth of the rules of the world and Xingqiu got his after he explained the principles of his clans martial arts anew, litterally saying that martial artists should see Visions as a extension of the self.

Last but definitly not least, Cryo

Cryo, the Element of the Archon know as the Tsaritsa. We acually dont know her corrisponding ideal nor her acual name and this one was just as geargrinding as Hydro.

The Tsaritsa, Ruler of the fatui and the one that gives them their Dilusions, is one interresting lady. We get a description of her from Childe: “Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. Too gentle, in fact, and that's why she had to harden herself. Likewise, she declared war against the whole world only because she dreams of peace. Her gaze was cold but pure, arrogant yet sharp. She was not only the sacrosanct Cryo Archon but a true warrior also.”

Kaeya, Chongyun, Diona and Qiqi, our current four Cyro userer, all have rather interesting storys when it comes to how they got their Vision.

All dont accept something

Kaeya felt guilty about hiding who he was from the family that adopted him after his father abandoned him to be a spy in Mondstadt, and told Diluc, someone he used to be very close with, the truth, since then he sees his vision as a stern reminder that he must live his life under a heavy burden of Lies. He pretty much doesnt accept the truth of his situatin and would rather live with that heavy burden

Chonyun is surpressing a part of himself, the condition he has, and as Xiangling says in Chongyuns stories, is denying a part of him. He trys to work around his condition and wont accept it as the way to go about how he practices exocrism.

Diona wont accept the truth about her father being a Alcoholic, and places the blame on the Alcohol industy instead of accepting that he isnt as high and mighty as she thought. She wont accept that her fathers bad control over his drinking habits is the reason he acts as he does and instead blames the alcohol industry.

Qiqi didnt want to accept her death nor does she really accept her Zombie like traits and only uses them when she needs to defend herself.

My theory is the Cyro Visions are recevied when you wont accept the grim reality as it is, if this is positive or negative variates

When it comes to the last element, Dendro, we sadly know nothing nor have we seen any dendro character in action. So that might be a addition later on.

I’m really interrested if we find out the actual criteria for reciving each Vision one day

[twistedtranslations]

Ruggie Bucchi - In grandma’s hands

You can unlock this story by getting Ruggie’s R School uniform

Translation under the cut

Cafetaria

Ruggie: Man, Leona’s such a slave-driver. Should’ve been selfish and told ‘im to think about the time. 

Ruggie: Let’s see, it doesn’t seem like anyone would notice if I borrowed these ingredients for a midnight snack... Eggs... Oh, who’d knew there were edible wild plants. 

Ruggie: Soup sounds just right at this late hour. I’m borrowing these~  

Ruggie: There’s quite a lot. Okay, let’s quickly chop up three to four different ones~ ...Put some water in the pot and make a consomme, season with salt and pepper. 

Ruggie: Lala, lala, la~la~ And now we just have to heat it thoroughly, and done~

Jade: Oh, what is this wonderful smell beckoning me to take a look. Good evening, Ruggie.

Ruggie: Yo, Jade. Seems we’re meeting at an unusual time~

Jade: Is that so?  The darkness is calming, thus now and then I take a walk in the school at night. In any case, that soup... It seems to have some delicious looking plants in there.

Ruggie: Yeah, someone placed them strangely, so I borrowed ‘em. I’ll just put somethin’ strange back tomorrow.

Jade: I think you are mistaken. Those plants are mine.

Ruggie: Huh?

Jade: I went to the mountains to gather them. However, if you had this much, you would tire of eating them the same way all the time, don’t you think? Hence, I asked the ghost chef for a new recipe, and put them on the kitchen table.

Ruggie: A- ahaha.

Jade: Hehe...

Ruggie: Ahahahahahaha...Sorry.

Jade: Oh, but I haven’t said anything yet.

Ruggie: Don’t play stupid. Being in debt to the Octavinelle dorm always ends up badly. But saying sorry won’t get us even... Ah. Jade, you wanted to know about a different way to eat wild plants, right?

Jade: That is right. I want to try something fundamental like stir frying or simmering.

Ruggie: Then why don’t I teach you how to cook. I’ve eaten basically all the plants here. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but at least there’ll be a lot of variation. This time we can come to an agreement...right?

Jade: I see, that’s an acceptable plan. How many recipes do you know?

Ruggie: Hm~ With this many kinds of wild plants, I’d say a big thirty~

Jade: Oh, so many?

Ruggie: As long as you include things like seasoning and stuff. If I’d teach you everything, the soup would burn, so I’ll quickly show you how to make two or three recipes.

Jade: Thank you very much. Please wait a bit. I want to note down everything...

Ruggia: Tada. From the left you have a marinade, a sautée and an omelet! For the omelet, cheese and eggs are sufficient, but the wild plants ensure you don’t get sick of it. Bitter plants shouldn’t be sautéed. All of ‘em will last until tomorrow, so feel free to take ‘em back to your dorm and eat ‘em whenever you want.

Jade: Oho... Everything is so skillfully made. This is an amazing reference. All things considered, I’m a bit surprised.

Ruggie: Hm? By what?

Jade: This was better than I expected. Each dish is intricately seasoned.

Ruggie: Hehe, that’s right, that’s right. Actually, my grandma taught me all of this.

Jade: I see, so that’s how it is. Your grandmother must be skilled at cooking.

Ruggie: Yeah. She was the best one in the neighbourhood. Well, she seldomly used this kind of luxurious seasoning though... But no matter what ingredient fell in her hands, you’d get this! Besides the rotten things.

Jade: How wonderful. If it is possible, I would love to learn more kinds of recipes.

Ruggie: Hold up, any more than this and I’ll have to charge you. I’ve already got even with you for the plants I used for the soup, right?

Jade: Oh, how shrewd.

Ruggie: Shshsh, same to you. I still gotta make Leona’s midnight snack, see ya~

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - The writing’s on the wall

Here we go, folks. Heavy time. Big one.

Tonight was just them, happy in the afterglow of laughter and far too much to drink. That calm quiet that falls with trusted company you can be at ease around. It was nice.

She'd assumed he felt the same way from the barely audible whistle of his breathing to her right. Figured that he was relaxing too, enjoying the dull heat of wine numbing his joints and their usual simmering pain. It was good, it felt right, until the peace was interrupted by the clink of his glass as he shifted, and the hoarse, strained whisper of -

" You're gonna leave one day, I know you will. I'll chase you away. You'll get sick of having to deal with me just l-like everyone does."

The groggy cloud behind her eyes dissipated instantly as his threat landed like ice-water, and she clumsily sat forward, wineglass dangling from her loose hand as she stared at him in confused disgust.

" What?... What are you talking about.”

“ Don't put that shit on me, Troy. Don't... don't even fucking dare try to drip feed that self hating poison into who I am. God, what is wrong with you? "

He didn't meet her eyes, still staring at the glass in his hands as he hunched in his seat, like he was about to crumble into himself. Looking somehow so much older and so much younger than she knew he was - like a child carrying the weight of the world. He mouthed something, then stopped. Started again, paused again. Reconsidering what he'd been about to say as his brows furrowed and lips tightened into a grimace.

Chasing what he wanted to express to her, grasping at it futilely, trying to find the right words and stumbling. Same self made snare as usual, tightening around his neck. The same trap he always set for himself, triggering as he stepped blindly towards it.

He sunk a little lower into himself as he wilted under her disgust, hair falling forward and blocking the shame burning across his face.

" I... I'm sorry, Sei. "

By @godkingsanointed​

???: She just drives me fuckin crazy man! She just- UGHH 

??: She's like fire. 

???: Yeah, a hot headed little- 

??: NO. Can keep you warm, safe, give light to see by. But if you don't treat it with respect, it you think that's all it's for, try to contain it, you'll be burned. 

???: I don't think that's all...  I-I respect her!!!! I can't believe you're taking her side in this!" 

??: No sides. Just something to think about. 

???: Ughhh, screw this! 

(Sounds of a door slamming shut)            

(A few moments of silence) 

??: I know...He's gunna burn her out. All of us.  

(Ding of a voice message being received) 

???: Thanks. For listening. 

??: Ha..we got him thinking. 

By @hieroglyphix​

S: Wh- Ven?! what the fuck are you- how the fuck did you get in here? 

V: Aw c'mon Sei, is that any way to treat a guest? I get that you're a bigshot s-saint and all but c'mon-- 

S: Last time I checked, people who break into other people's houses are considered burglars, not guests- and get your fuckin' feet off my desk!

V: Hey now, just cause I broke in doesn't mean I stole anything. Im more of a buddy, paying you an....impromptu visit! Yeah! 

S: ( sigh ) God, forget the semantics of it all, what the hell do you want? 

V: It ain't about what I want, I came here 'cause of what you want. 

S: ...Pardon? Oh God, tell me this isn't some kind of-

V: Waitwaitwait it ain't like that, S-Sei, you know i don't run that way anyhow. I came because you need a s-sign. 

S: ...A sign. 

V: Yeah, a sign. s-see, I know what you're planning on doing, I've seen it all laid out in the path ahead of us. But you're draggin' your feet too damn long, and it's only gonna get worse from here. so Sei, listen to me, I'm your sign. Get the fuck out of here, and don't look back for nothin'. 

( silence )

S: So, let me get this straight. You broke into my house, just to....tell me to leave?

V: Well when you put it like that it doesn't sound super great, but...yeah.

( silence ) 

S: Who else knows about this? 

V: Only me, and I ain't about to rat on you. I don't blame you for wanting out, things....well, between you me and the floorboards, things ain't gonna get any better around here. 

S: ( deep sigh ) Good God... 

V: Look doll, I ain't here to force you into a decision, and I won't judge you for not leaving. I'm just tellin' you which way the wind's blowing. One friend to another. 

S: Right. 

( uncomfortable silence )

V: Well, you think on what I said. I've gotta get home to my brother, it's spaghetti night. 

S: Try not to let anyone see you on your way out, the last thing i need is more brainless gossip out on my hangar. 

V: Heh. Not like they caught me on the way in, not exactly the sharpest tools out there. Anyway, nighty night Sei.

( the maglock doors hiss open )

S: And Ven? 

V: Yeah? 

S: ...Thanks. 

V: Don't mention it. 

[end echo log]

I’m just a bit shook up…” her voice cracks as she mutters. “He said some stupid shit tonight, bout how everyone leaves him and he knows it’s..” she sighs, letting her head drop to face the table with a weak shrug.

“Stupid as in.. it got to me. He ever say anything to you that’s just.. you know it’s off? I sometimes think it’s me..”

JK waited patiently, wanting to reach out and rest a hand on her shoulder but not quite knowing if that would overstep their tentative friendship as it formed.

“…that I’m going crazy and feeling things that aren’t real, overreacting…” she pauses, swiping her auburn hair back from her forehead, thumbing at her temple as she lets her eyes stare unfocused at the wall behind their shoulder.

JK grunts thoughtfully, then shakes their head a little, their mask tilting downwards as they rumble out a huff of air. “He’s… talking a lot more recently, yeah, bout things no one asked.”

They empty the bottle in a deep dreg, and lower it carefully to the table in front of them, spinning it slowly on its edge. “Like he’s replyin’ to a question that was never said, and he’s pissed about it. Gets snappy at nothin’. Gets angry at nothin’. I don’t say things, I just listen. He likes when you just listen, I think you know that too.”

She nods, watery eyes looking up at them through her thick eyelashes.

“It’s just, the thing’s he’s saying now, this last year?” JK glances to their side again, towards where Troy sleeps.

They turn back to Seifa and reach out then, touching a finger against her forearm as it rests against the table, happy to see she doesn’t flinch away even though she’s hurt too. Proud that though she’s struggling to hold back tears that swell along her lash-line, she’s still listening to them. Really listening, like what JK thinks matters.

“It’s the same kind of things axe-hands I knew in the clan would start to say before they’d go wrong. Harsh things to themselves, about themselves, about how others were seeing ‘em. I don’t like that kind of talk much either, I’ve seen where it goes. People start doing that and they aren’t themselves for much longer. Become the same thing they were worryin’ everyone already saw them as.”

They turn the bottle to its side, idly twirling it with their index finger, only the hollow grind of the glass on the table filling the silence.

“I’ve seen him goin’ the same way. Same way they did, and I don’t know how to stop it, I’m not good with..” they gesture at the bone-white mask still marked with that crumbling splash of old rust-red blood, pausing to collect their thoughts. “..Not good with talking the way it would help. Saw him hurt acolytes the last few months. He used to just grab, threaten…”.

Their leg bounces beneath the table, nerves firing haphazardly as they swallow down the frustration lodged between their teeth. “Now he grinds. Cracks their bones in that metal fist. Not enjoyin’ it, not laughin’, but doin’ it anyway. He smells like bitter antiseptic sometimes, and I think he’s takin’ things out on himself where he figures we won’t know, under the steel.”

“I don’t think he is well. Inside him. None of us are here, lady. We’re all broken a little, but we learn how to live with it. It’s that or die. He doesn’t know how to do it. We gotta…”

“… we gotta watch out for our brother”.

By @godkingsanointed

He'd dare let venom drip about Seifa around them, and Troy knew from the palpable atmosphere change that it wasn't going to be swept under the rug. He would have crumbled, he would have backtracked into sickening apologies, but after the grilling Tyreen had already given him? How helpless and powerless he already felt, child was the straw that broke him.

He span on his heels to face them, spinal implants flaring and eyes all cruel angles and rage. It only took one or two stalking steps for them to be at odds face to face, not that he was sure what he'd do when he got there.

"The fuck was that pal?" He seethed, letting jaw plates click and flicker. They didn't seem intimidated, too full of fury to even care.

"Ungrateful. Fucking. CHILD. She made you, made both of you. Without her, you'd be skag shit right now." They paused to look him up and down before continuing. "Instead of a shit eating skag."

His reaction was instant, flesh hand snapping forward to grab at the decorative chains around their neck he'd gifted them, pulling them close. "You fuckin-" he choked, mind clouded on what to do. He wanted to smash them to bits, he wanted to pull their fucking head off, but he had enough control yet to hesitate.

"If you wanna spar big man, let's go. You know the rules." They spat. They'd set out a few of them a couple of months back, not really thinking it would come to it, more so sharing a part of clan life so he felt included. Clan members could fight out frustrations, as long as it didn't go so far as to lose a body for raids or hunting. No using the prosthetic, no hitting Troys left side, no weapons. That was what they settled on, and now staring him down? They didn't like the idea of fighting him, of fighting any family. Never had. But if he refused to talk and instead was intent to act like this? They could find some satisfaction in landing a hit or two. 

Mention of that past conversation seemed to snap him out of it, hitting home just how far JK was willing to take this. They didn't care about title or siren status, as far as they where concerned this was a family matter. And as far gone as he was, Troy had no intention of full on brawling with family. He pushed them away as he let go, face burning in shame and frustration as he backed down. 

"Not worth my fucking time..." he mumbled, storming away and letting a metal fist impact a wall as he went,one final show of force.

They stayed put after he was gone, head tilted back and taking deep breaths as they steadied themself. Seifa...didn't need to know about this. She hardly needed defending and she'd scold them for almost coming to blows over a few nasty words but...They couldn't have just bitten their tongue either. 

Ven - "I mean boss, have you considered ever actually thinking about what you want?" 

Troy - "..." Troy - "...Everything. All the time. I want e-everything. Everything. Everything I see, all the time. The way you love Eli, and the way he smiles at you and it's real 'cause he knows how to love, I want that."

Troy - "...I want it, and how Sei puts her arms around all of you and never me but she looks at me and I feel s-something but I don’t know how to say it in words, I want that."

Troy - "...I want Jak-Knife and the way their mask a-and their face - both of them are beautiful and better than anything I can pretend I see in a mirror and I want everything all the time, Ven, and I don't even know if it's me that's actually wanting."

Ven - "Right..." Ven  - "...Ok bud, so first of all, I'm going to get us some drinks..."

By @godkingsanointed​

-- Uroboros log - M0noli7h / S0litar3 prsnl e-dev com msg log //Private Line - SAVED-  blame=GKT -- Machina: So Adalphus is where you’re saying is the best bet.  Aurum: Simple logic. Close enough to Pandora for you to still perform your role, far enough from.. well. What you need to be far from.  Machina: Feels apt somehow, ending up wasting away on some off-world base. Never did belong here, huh. Aurum: A feeling I understand better than I’d like. Regardless of our personal opinions you’ve been one of the few colleagues I’d describe as competent, A’Rosk. It’s a reassurance to know you aren’t abandoning your position.  Machina: Mutual on that, Sol. Staying on isn’t by choice though. I’m sure you know that too. You remember Fragor.  Aurum: I remember what was left of her absolutely ruining a pair of Ausler dress shoes, yes. You’re going to be hounded. You know that. Machina: I know that, I’m just praying it will be gently. The Crusaders are under Troy, and Troy..  Machina: I Machina: I trust Troy

Aurum: That’s your prerogative, regardless of how stupid. Machina: Thanks, you nasty shit. So you’ll manage the fund movements once I’m out, keep the flow going to the accounts I gave you? Aurum: Yes, yes. Not exactly work deserving of my touch, mind you. Junkers leave residue. I prefer to keep my hands clean, Seifa. I’m sure you appreciate that, considering this deal.  Machina: Ohhhh absolutely. You scratch my back, I’ll stab yours.  Aurum: Cute. I’ll manage your assets this side, and my little history with those slag shipments to Elpis will remain off your people’s raidar. Machina: That they will. Solomon, much as it pains me to say this, it has been a pleasure. Thank you. For.. for everything.  Aurum: Not needed, Seifa. It’s just good business. [end log]

[teruthecreator]

what really pushed you to write SSOSS? :3 also how did you come up with the idea for the story? :>

UM so the first question actually comes in like, two different parts?? or i guess the two questions sort of overlap (jesus christ readmore i didnt realize i would talk this much LMAO)

so the concept of the on the run/western aspect of it came from a voice call in the friendzone but it was just me, matthew ( @accesscodex ) and corinne ( @maplekeene ). matt was just kind of There while me and corinne were spitballing ideas for aus that would be fun. 

we thought of a western because it just seemed like an interesting route to take the characters in (also very heavily inspired by that one textpost thats like “it werent the whiskey what he were tryin to savor”, which ill get back to later). this was sometime after the episode where the thundermen fight the demons in last hope and escape by pegasi (i Think thats either ep 17 or 18), and i think i mentioned how it would be interesting if they took that moment to like. completely run away from the school. i dont think any of us really thought they would go back and talk to grey??? so we were thinking how the story could go without the school involved anymore, and so that’s where the on the run aspect came from. i then took the two ideas we were discussing (on the run and a western) and crashed them together to be like “hey! what if they ran away and then started new lives out west!” 

it was never an idea i thought was going to be taken that seriously, but matt (as he always is) is an enabler with his art and he started drawing the boys in cowboy designs. This was the moment i knew i wanted to do Something with the idea, since it was hot on everyone’s mind. 

the base idea (basically the first chapter) was based on a comic matthew would then post earlier in the day (on the day that i wrote chapter 1) that was based on the “it werent the whiskey what he were tryin to savor” textpost. i will link the updated comic here ur welcome matthew for not posting the older version bc i know you hate it now. this was the only reason i wanted to write ssoss. because i wanted to hurt matthew and, subsequently, everyone else in the friendzone. 

and, honestly?? ssoss was only supposed to be about 2-3 chapters At Most. i Tried to do it all in one sitting, which is why the first chapter ended up being like 10k words!!! but i was getting burnt out and i got WAYYYYY too in-depth about How they escaped, so i felt having that short of a moment in the actual western part wasn’t enough. so then i announced in the notes of the first chapter that i would likely make a second and maybe a third chapter and have that be it. i had never written a really long fic before and i knew (w my history of unfinished but published wips) that i probably couldnt sustain myself for something longer than 4 chapters. 

now, how the hell did i get here--8 chapters deep and over 100k words in the hole???? i honestly have no idea!!! the rest of the story has come from a number of places. the early plot beats were establishing moments for the characters on their own and together (some things i Did take from me and corinnes dms bc early on we talked abt it A Lot together, he knows what he contributed). i have trouble outlining things bc i feel as if it kills the motivation, so for the most part i would let ideas simmer in my head until i couldnt take it anymore and then write them all down. then, once i ran out of ideas (usually i come into a Writing Day with about 1-3 scenes thought of), i sit and talk aloud to myself about how the chapter should flow from there. one thing about me is i usually have the first and last scene Already decided when i sit down, so the rest is a matter of deciding how we get from point A to point B without making the whole chapter a wash. 

i wish i could say there’s a method to my madness, but i honestly don’t know how i do it. since the moment i decided i wanted this to be way longer, i Have had a sense of the flow of plot. characters arcs i work on throughout writing (in fact i remember the day i had the epiphany about Argo’s epiphany, if yknow what i mean coughcoughchapter4endingcough, and how that ended up changing the rest of his following scenes). 

also the ending i had No idea what it was going to be until LITERALLY when i was writing chapter 8. i had an epiphany and wrote down an outline of it so i wouldnt lose track of those thoughts. and the ending DID change because of actual graduation canon!!!! maybe one day i will reveal what the original ending was going to be, though i honestly kept my orig idea and just built stuff around it to make it work. 

honestly, ssoss has been one of my greatest exercises in motivation and storyplanning. i don’t Plan much but i do think about the story CONSTANTLY, and it helps that i have a pretty decent memory!!!! there are scenes i’ve had to either cut or move because of either time (aka when its getting close to midnight on a writing day and im literally going insane) or just the scene no longer working w the flow of the chapter, which i’ve learned is par for the course!! sometimes ya gotta cut stuff.

also in terms of pushing myself to keep writing it? audience feedback/hype really does help me!!!! seeing my friends and random people freak out about updates is honestly like. the Reason i wanna write more bc it’s just so cool and humbling to see people appreciate my work!!!! i’ve never had like a “fandom famous” fic before, and tho i wouldn’t put myself at the level of fame Other taz writers have gotten, i’m pretty happy with my lot!!!! 

[ziotsu]

time to write out literally all my thoughts as someone who can’t read Japanese!

I actually saw the first few pages when people were posting them because apparently the first half of the chapter comes out the second week? I didn’t post my thoughts cause I wanted to do them all at the same time

Page 1! Well this is fun, I absolutely love the expressions in this manga (I feel like me going on about the art in this manga is going to be a theme lol). But the subtle differences between how Ashiya looks and how he looks when Sakae is controlling him are amazing. And it isn’t just the eye color, but just everything with how Sakae acts and carries himself (face included) really is awesome. And it doesn’t feel like just slapping a new face on Ashiya’s body, I genuinely can see Ashiya making this expression when Sakae isn’t possessing him (if he wasn’t such a cinnamon roll). Also the shock on Abeno’s face is not something we see too often. He has his normal shocked face but this feels more raw than in the past? Like his eyes seem wider and the way his hair is makes it seem like he basically just did a double take. MMMMMMMMMM this is good shit. But story wise, I assume this page is just restating the fact that you really don’t wanna use influence on a parasitic shrub possessed demon.

Page 2 and 3! Abeno know’s what’s up, or at least it seems so. It would be more surprising if he didn’t tbh. Also I wonder if Sakae kind of knew this was going to happen? Considering he was trying to keep them away, I assume he did. At the very least he does not seem shocked at all to see Aoi like that at all. Speaking of Aoi, they are def trapped where they are at. That whole is well large enough for them to get through and attack them again, but they are still on the ground it seems. I am guessing it has to do with the tree we saw coming from their tail last chapter. They are still 110% mad though.

3-4! It looks like it isn’t just the trees that are keeping Aoi down, I thought the roots attaching the main body to the ground had been ripped up but it looks like there are some remaining. Sakae is as gentle as ever, yes just toss away his injured arm, great idea. Now Abeno is in even more pain. The wound though is really deep, looks like two large gashes, which Sakae actually starts to dress (rest in peace, kimono sleeve) (also while abeno is trying to get his arm out of the inner kimono (idk what is is called), we can see the medicine Abeno always carries around! I love the attention to detail in this manga)

5-6! Yup, page 5 doesn't do it justice, but page six really shows the extent of the damage one of the gashes did. Super nasty scar going to go there. We see some more of Aoi though, and do they chirp? Like what cats do? Cause murder cat looks super cute on page 5 and I don’t know how to feel about this.

They look like baby here and I want to protect them. Abeno seems to be bringing up the medicine, though I really don’t know what this would do to Aoi other than basically kill them. Which honestly, may be for the best? I know it’s a bit messed up, but it has been stated before that they are obviously past the point of getting them help, and leaving them there would be super dangerous.

7-8! I am making another assumption that Sakae doesn’t know what the medicine does. Which I have a current theory that the medicine is a new development for the underworld. (if such a medicine existed before Aoi left, why wouldn’t they use it on them?) Which would also mean that Sakae wouldn’t know about it either. My guess from the last pages seem to be correct as there is a panel showing Aoi burning, which seems pretty deathy to me. I honestly don’t know what they are going to do, though I think for now, they should be getting back, reporting the situation and getting help for themselves. Aoi seems really stuck here so I don’t think they are a direct threat to the underworld immediately. (Unless Aoi manages to escape the island and oh boy that would not be good) Abeno seems pretty determined, though, so regardless Aoi is most likely going to meet their actual end.

9-10! Aoi is starting to go to sleep here, Sakae seems really good at first aid (wonder where/why he learned that ;) Maybe a certain lady who often gets sick?) Not a whole lot happens, I think these are mostly showing the passage of time, and it seems Abeno is putting away the medicine for now. Which good move, my boy. Come back to take care of murder cat later. Also I wonder if all those trees are from Aoi’s parasitic shrub. That would be terrifying if that is the case. It could really show how long they have been there, trapped and going mad because of the shrub.

11-12! Good lord all of them are looking super cute this chapter. Sakae you can’t do this to me, just all your movements and facial expressions are justlasdkhjg;lakshjdg. Ashiya is cute in his own right, but this is a different type of cute. Why are all these characters like this and please don’t stop making all these characters like this. We get a good look at Aoi’s spine and it makes me sad (though also could give more insight to how the shrub basically takes over? Using the spinal cord to get to the brain seems like a good path to take if the shrub’s goal is to spread like any other parasite (which also makes sense with the going mad thing, kind of like rabies almost) I am glad Abeno’s arm is being supported and held still with what they had on hand. Still looks super painful though.

13-14! And they are out! At least out of the pit where they can really easily run if they need to. Sakae is starting to get tired, so I wonder how much longer he can go on? I hope he can stay awake long enough to get back to the mononokean because I highly doubt Abeno can carry an unconscious Ashiya back. He would most likely have to wait for Ashiya to wake back up before moving on and who knows how long that will take. Part of page 13 made me go back to see the last few pages, but it looks like Aoi’s front right paw is stuck in the ground :( good cause they are most likely really stuck there and probably wont be able to escape easy but it makes me sad to see the previous master of the mononokean in such a state.

15-16! Oof the tiredness is really showing in the first panel. Get out of there quick so you both can rest! I am guessing Abeno is asking about why Sakae said those things in the flower field.Like how Aoi is dead and such, and honestly did Sakae lie? Aoi, as they were in the past, is dead. They are completely over taken and do not recognize even the child they basically raised.

17-18! Oh boy Sakae is getting more and more tired, Abeno is asking about the golden butterfly and can you two just get going? Ya’ll have limited time here!!!!! Though I wonder if Sakae used his influence on one of the butterflies to communicate to Ashiya? it seems very similar? Or a butterfly made from pure influence? Which would explain how it disappeared when Ashiya grabbed it?

I am going to stop the page format because uh.... WHAT. First off Abeno was def asking about the influence/parasitic shrub thing that Sakae brought up. And WE ACTUALLY LEARN ABOUT IT NEXT CHAPTER. This is huge cause oml this feels like a rare moment. Normally mysteries like this linger for a few chapters, simmer and make us suffer. BUT WE GOT A NEW BRAND OF SUFFERING TODAY FOLKS! Like I theorized it a bit on why I didn’t think Aoi was the one Sakae used his influence on, due to thinking that Aoi being infected years before picking up Abeno seemed super dangerous and didn’t feel like something they would do. I DIDN’T KNOW YOU CAN USE INFLUENCE TO CURE THE PARASITIC SHRUB THOUGH! PAGE 22 IS SUFFERING! PAGE 22 HAS ALL THE ANSWERS! Like we now know what happened, or at least have enough facts to be able to piece it together! Aoi and Sakae went out for a job, either they find out that the demon is infected or know and are going to try to help them out. Aoi somehow gets infected by this demon and Sakae uses his influence to get rid of the growing infection only to die himself as the parasitic shrub is not meant to live in the human body. This explains why Aoi was so beat up over his death, because IT WAS THEIR FAULT. It explains why Sakae would use his influence on a demon that is infected, because it is Aoi, their employer and friend. He probably wasn’t meaning to die at all, just thinking that ‘hey let’s just get rid of this shrub from Aoi so they don’t die because they are an important part of the Underworld (though AU where Sakae can’t do this and has to become the next master of the mononokean ;) )

We also see the aftermath, it is almost like he becomes some form of demon himself, and actually looks infected with the shrub. I doubt it is the same sort of situation because he doesn’t become a tree? I am honestly unsure on how this affected him. He does go and meet his son a few months later, (wait or was that Aoi because between the two pages we see a sort of continuation with the hand on the left (aoi’s hand) but we also see the ‘veins’ of the shrub which hints towards Sakae? I like to think that Sakae visited baby Ashiya, so I am going to go with the assumption it is Sakae visiting till I am proven otherwise) and smol Ashiya is always cute. Ashiya does seem to ‘notice’ something? or he is just a baby and babies cry A LOT. We see Sakae ‘infect’ the butterfly he uses to communicate with Ashiya in the flower field. Wonder if he tried doing the same in the past with Abeno, only Abeno cannot hear his words.

ALSO GUYS I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT OF THERE NOW WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? Ashiya is now completely passed out, Abeno cannot carry him back and now they gotta just chill there till Ashiya wakes back up. I know it is awesome to have questions answered, but please. 

Though I guess somehow they managed cause Ashiya wakes up in what I can only assume is the Legeslator’s place? It is def not the mononokean (too large and im sure we would be hearing a bell the moment Ashiya woke up) but it could be Korou’s place. Not sure how Abeno managed, but he probably found a way to get them out of there. Rip golden eyes, though :( Guess they were just either the side effect to using that much influence or a hint that Sakae was just kind of hanging around in case shit hits the fan. 

There is incense burning, making a guess this is either a preventative measure against the shrub or something to help wake Ashiya up faster. Ashiya is alone and it seems he is shaken because of what Sakae explained (I am guessing it was similar to his dreams when he subconsciously used his influence and he was dreaming about Sakae’s past)

This chapter was amazing, answered so many things and saw enough cute to really counter balance the ‘what the actual fuck’ this chapter brought along with it.

[katierosefun]

okay so another update on caroline’s cooking adventures,,,,and here are some things i have learned (i am sorry if most of this is obvious but im like. im stupidly proud of myself adfdsfs)

i made myself dinner while also baking brownies and that was very hectic 

i have learned how to actually make rice on the stovetop (making rice without a rice cooker is still so bizarre to me but hey! i made my rice fluffy!!!!! wash/rinse your rice multiple times until the water is clear, then dump it into the boiling water. pop on the lid, set the water to simmering and set a timer for maybe 30-ish minutes. also watch lid because sometimes all these bubbles will climb up to the lid and then it’s bubbling over so just....remove lid for a second. (and the pot i made the rice in was big. i had no idea the bubbles could climb that high!!)

so tortillas are significantly more expensive than lavash (a kind of flatbread very common in western asia), so i got lavash and used it to make quesadillas/burritos and stuff (i’m so sorry i’m 10000% sure this is the wrong way to eat lavash pls take pity on a broke college student just trying to do her best) 

omurice is actually easy to make. (set stove on high. whisk eggs (probably 2 eggs, 3 eggs if you’re making a bigger size/have a bigger pan) until it’s kinda soup-y, and then dump eggs on the pan. turn the pan around so the egg liquid is a circle in your pan. lower the heat!! when the egg’s set, flip the egg over to cook the other side. when done, put the egg in a bowl of your choice. make fried rice (that’s what it omurice basically is), dump that fried rice in your egg-bowl. grab a plate, slide it over the egg-bowl, dump said bowl over plate. remove bowl, and viola, you’ve got yourself omurice. cut slits in the egg, grab ketchup if that’s your thing.) 

cooking is 1000000% just about playing with heat? (all the times i went ‘oh shit oh shit this is way too much heat gotta lower it’) 

also....i know this is obvious but dONT put that much oil on your pan because when you heat it up the oil just SPITS at you and it hurts a lil’ so uhhh yeah just be careful when pouring oil 

okay idk how helpful this is but my mom always did it so i do it now too but after cleaning your pan, fill it up with like a small pool of water, set it on the stove and just boil the water to kill off any extra germs. you can dump the boiled water back in the sink. 

make pancakes over medium heat always. i burned so many pancakes cooking on high first. yes, this is probably obvious too, but i was dumb and, again, did not realize how heat on stovetops actually get hotter over time. 

meatballs are actually very easy to make? just ground beef/pork, egg, breadcrumbs, seasonings. i put green onions in mine because korean meatballs demand it. fry up on stovetop, set lid over the pan and turn it down low to get it evenly cooked. 

it is, in fact, possible to bake brownies and cookies with salted butter, just so long as you cut out the salt in the actual baking recipe. (also my brownies came out a+++++. extremely gooey and yummy and i am very proud of myself for not freaking out with this new oven.)

this has been said over and over again but generic brands are your best friend when shopping because oh my god the times i’ve found things that are like a dollar to 3 dollars cheaper because they’re generic brand god bless (ie. my supermarket’s generic brand of chocolate chips was a whole two dollars cheaper than the nestle chocolate chips, and while two dollars off might not seem like a whole ton, it’s all about these smaller savings that pile up. also, my supermarket’s generic brand of frozen fruit was also a whole dollar off, and not only did they have a bigger variety of fruit (strawberries!!!!), but there was also more stuffed in the bag, so!!! worth it!!!!) 

i am now considering if buying yeast is worth it because i want to make bread but also. broke college student + bread takes time but also can u tell i stress-bake. 

[loridrabbles]

Imprisoned | Dogma x Reader (Part 30)

     (Y/n) had stayed home with Saoirse most of the day Dogma left. She knew doing something productive would help her get her mind off the fact that he was gone, but she couldn't find the motivation to get out of the apartment. What she could do, however, was try and do some cooking, and juggle Saoirse at the same time.  As her dinner simmered on the stove, her communicator buzzed on the counter.  It was her friend Mia, who she had met at 79's when she used to spend time with the 501st. She was a bartender there and always seemed to remember everyone's orders, even if they only showed up once.

     "Hey, I'm on your side of the city for a couple days visiting some family. Mind if I drop by?" The communicator read.

     "Hey, Mia! I'm not much in the mood for company right now. Tomorrow? I could really use some emotional support and a listening ear." She typed.

     "Sure! It'll be good to see you. Haven't seen you since you first got back home. See ya tomorrow!"

     (Y/n)'s dinner turned out better than she had expected. It took everything in her not to comfort eat what would be tomorrow's leftovers. As she cleaned up the dishes and put away the rest of the food, Saoirse was half asleep in her bassinet. Looking at the time, (y/n) decided she had better head off to bed herself.

     (Y/n) layed there, staring at the ceiling. Despite having the fan on full blast and some relaxing music playing on the radio, things seemed deathly silent. Dogma was actually a pretty talkative person and could start rambling on about something, even if no one was listening. He'd usually go on a spiel about something before bed. Or, when he'd read one of his books, he'd mumble or whisper the lines out loud. His voice was soft and comforting, and sometimes, just to hear him talk, (y/n) would ask him a question about the story just to hear him start rambling.

     Sleep alluded her and as she rolled on her side, the tears came. Eventually, the exhaustion of it all finally drew her to sleep.

    (Y/n) sat on her couch, windows open, enjoying the fresh spring air when she heard the doorbell go off. She stood from her spot, bouncing Saoirse on her hip and pressed the comm button to let her friend in the door. She could hear the elevator chime down the hall and opened the door to Mia who had a wide smile on her face.

    "(Y/n)! How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while." She hugged her and gave Saoirse a little pinch on the cheek. (Y/n) sighed and led her to the couch.

    "Honestly, pretty horrible." She said, sitting down, placing her little girl on the floor to play with some stuffed toys and rubber blocks. "I cried myself to sleep last night."

Mia frowned softly, pushing a strand of short, brown hair behind her ear.

    “Damn, I don’t know if should say ‘me too’ or ‘what happened,' but I’m gonna go with the second one,” She said with a smirk, “What’s the matter?"

    "I thought I had prepared myself for him to leave, but I was with him 24/7 for almost 2 years and just when I got him back, he's gone again. And even though he was only home for about a week, we adjusted to living so well together it felt like he'd been here for years."

    "I know what it's like to have someone in your life for a while only to then have them taken away from you. I learned it at a pretty young age. I’m guessing this is about Dogma leaving and rejoining the 501st?” She asked.

    "Yeah...How did you deal with losing Hardcase? I know it's a different kind of loss, but... " As (y/n) spoke, a bitter smile cast over Mia's face as her fingers instinctively grasped the necklace Hardcase had given her.

      “It was hard. It was a very difficult and dark time for me when I had heard the news that he was killed in action,” Mia explained, running her thumb over the white and blue pendant, a piece of his armor from when it had gotten badly damaged, encased in resin. “I started off slow, but then I slowly worked my way up. I surrounded myself with things that I could keep my mind occupied with. It was a lot but I managed through it. There were the dark moments and the okay-moments, but it really takes a lot of courage and determination to move on."

    "And, what about your kids...I mean, Saoirse is so young and doesn't really recognize who he is yet, but yours had to have noticed he's gone." She asked, shifting in her seat. "Was he even around them much, with the war and everything? I mean he didn't have permission to leave the base like Dogma does."

    “Oh yes, they knew him pretty well.” She spoke, “Every time that he would come home, they would immediately run up to him and try to get him to pick them up. Although he got to see them, he always made it his duty to come home for as much time as he could,” She said, “He always said to me ‘I want them to know me and I want to be a good father to them’ every time I asked him.”

    "Saoirse does that too." She smiled. "She can't walk yet, but she'll cry at Dogma and reach for him."

    Mia chuckled softly, letting her head rest in her palm.

    “Kids seem to know their fathers quite well, huh?”

    "Yeah...I just hope she doesn't start getting fussy if she does realize he's gone."

    “Yeah, hoping for it to happen isn’t going to work. She’s going to miss her father, but you gotta be there to comfort her. You have to be a mother for Saoirse.”

    "I love her so much." She smiled down at her as she shook a stuffed rabbit in her hands, expecting it to rattle. "I'd do anything for her. I hope Dogma's doing well. He returned to the base yesterday."

Mia smiled, looking at the way that Y/N played with Saoirse. It was a bittersweet sight really.

    “Really? Im betting you spent the night with another?” She winked.

    "I-I did w-what? N...no." (Y/n) felt a cold sweat on her brow and her cheeks flush a pale white. Panic rushed down her shoulders and back. "D-did you hear that from someone? I-I can explain."

Mia raised a brow before chuckling to herself nervously. Seeing (y/n) so pale made her worry as well. But she probably was joking, right?

    “Are you serious?” She asked, her face dropping. Why did that joke make her so uncomfortable? ���(Y/n)?"

    Mia narrowed her eyes at her friend before leaning forward. “(Y/n), what do you mean by ‘I can explain’?” She asked, “Who did you spend the night with when Dogma left?”

    "I-it wasn't when Dogma left. He wasn't even out of prison at the time. I...I didn't know what to do. I missed him so much and he was right next to me and...and..." (Y/n) was trying her best to hold it together, nervously rubbing her hands over one another as she spoke. Mia’s eyes widened in shock as she looked at her friend. There was no way. She couldn’t believe it.

    “It was Wolffe wasn't it. Who made the first move? You or him?”

    "Him, I guess. He walked me home after a meeting with Rex and when we got to the apartment he went for it. I tried to say no...I did say no, but I caved in." She said. "Feeling his touch and his warmth...I had feelings for him at one point and it all came crashing back. I know I shouldn't have let him in but I just...I just." (Y/n) began to sob as she spoke. Mia sighed exasperatedly before going over to her friend and hugging her lightly.

    “Stop your kriffin’ crying. You know I hate seeing you cry.” The woman sighed out, rubbing (y/n)’s shoulder. “You should’ve pushed him away! Why didn’t you do that? Or why didn’t you tell him you were married? Or something else?”

    "He knew I was with Dogma! We were talking about it." She wiped her tears away as more came. "I'm such a horrible person. I hate myself for letting him in! Dogma doesn't deserve this."

    Mia sighed sharply, before shaking her head lightly.

    “While I hate to admit that you are both at fault here, you understand what you did wrong. And by the state that you are in, you haven’t told him.” The woman spoke, shaking her head. “The only way to pay for your mistakes is owning up to it, and telling him (Y/n).”

    "I can't, Mia, I can't." She sniffled, using both hands to wipe more and more tears from her cheeks. "I don't wanna break his heart." She could barely get the words out through her crying. Mia rolled her eyes, before looking down at their face.

    “Oh, what the hell are you gonna do then? Keep on having an affair with the Commander when you have a kriffin’ daughter?! (Y/n) this is too much! Even when Hardcase has passed away I’m not giving in to men who try to get into my bed!” She raised her voice slightly, “You of all people should know that. You spent nearly two years with Dogma, every kriffin' second. And as soon as he's not around that’s what you do? I barely had Hardcase to myself for a month, but I would’ve never hurt him like this! For kriff’s sake, (Y/n), you need to look at the reality of this situation!”

    "Mia!" She cried harder, face turning pink. "I asked for some support and you're not being very helpful right now!"

Mia slammed her hand on the table and glared at (Y/n) before speaking up once more.

     “Of all the things you could have done to repay Dogma, you gave him the stupidest one. Kriffin'...You could’ve slapped him, or yelled at him, or done SOMETHING to make Wolffe go away but you let him in. If word gets out to anyone about your little ‘adventure’ with the Commander, I hope you’re ready to tell Dogma what you did. Cause if not, I will be the one to tell him myself. Don’t test me (Y/n). He’s a soldier. He deserves so much better than what you’ve done to him.” Mia said, venom dripping from every word that she yelled. 

     The change in volume startled Saoirse, making her cry. Mia looked down at her.

     "I really, really thought you knew better (Y/n). You loved him and started a kriffin family with him after all."

     "Get out!" (Y/n) yelled, standing up from her spot on the sofa.

     "What? (Y/n)..."

     "Get out and don't kriffing come back!" She continued to shout, picking up Saoirse, bouncing her in her arms.

     "You will never be satisfied, (Y/n). Will you?" She said, picking up her bags.

     (Y/n) watched as she walked away, opening the door, then closing it behind her. She was still trying to calm Saoirse down as well as herself. 

[convervative-blog]

so, ptsd is the only dsm v recognized disorder which is classified as a psychiatric injury and not a congenital, inherited expression (ok blah ignoring that of course many things like bpd are now becoming known as typical complex trauma/abuse responses but thats not what this post is about, marsha linehan was robbed i will fight everybody...anyway...)  alot of ppl really seem to misunderstand what ptsd is. it is an injury to our brains, it is a psychiatric injury which clearly and visibly affects our limbic system, our amygdala, our hippocampus. it literally lights up how we process memories events circumstances. it activates our pons, the area in our brainstem responsible for controlling stress, our “lizard brain”, the part of our brain that instinctively knows when shit is wrong and reacts and slams the 10/10 button before u have time to think. the adrenal system, the part that floods ur body with cortisol, adrenaline, endorphins, epinephrine, your muscles tighten, your pupils dilate, you know you can put your fist through something if you have to, you know you can make a run for that closet and hide in it if you have to, you know you gotta do something because shit is going down motherfucker!!!!!!!!!!  ok so like some ppl with ptsd can be violent. we see this in media portrayals of ptsd all the time, the guy had a gun he was in iraq he went crazy. like thats the normal narrative, and ok within our community we really dont want to discuss how this is real and could be real for people. ok of fucking course that narrative is bullshit because most people with mental illness are more likely to be victims of violent crime not perpetrators and we need more positive inclusive healing narratives of ptsd because we want to see representations of ourselves! but this isnt about that because weve seen those posts, weve done the discourse, were doing the discourse, so im gonna talk about something else. something thats gonna piss everybody off so buckle up cowboys yeet haw.  some ppl with ptsd become abusers, thats a fact. because some people cant deal with stress at all, they become hyperreactive and that reaction is fists, yelling, screaming, throwing things, becoming incoherent and nonsensical, etc etc. when your heart reaches 180 bpm (and it does with virtually any indistinguishable environmental or emotional trigger, it absolutely gets that high when your lizard brain takes over), you stop being able to think logically.  part of having ptsd for me was learning that this is me, i dont hit but when little things happen my brain completely sheds the part of my personality that is logical reasonable and calm. my decision-making part, my risk/reward analyzing part, my organizing part. frontal lobe? lol seeya. i immediately become enraged and if i do nothing else ill usually yell/scream at TOP VOLUME and then after about 30 seconds, 60 seconds, when it cools off ill feel bad about it. sometimes when im having a bad day and multiple little things have gone on, ill get progressively worse and storm around swearing and slamming things, simmering, trying trying trying to get it under control, trying to fight through the hormone surge to claw back my reason, my sanity. its something i literally cant control, i have tried my whole life. im not denying responsibility for it of course im responsible for it, but thats reality, its my reality. its my reality that the person i live with has secondary ptsd because of me because of my life because i was a sex trafficking victim from age 8 and i cant deal with dropping a cup of water anymore because of it. my brain is literally damaged, literally, literally, literally.  and i have hurt people because of it. maybe not physically but that doesnt matter. theres a person on this planet who is affected by the things ive done and will always be affected, and there is nothing i can do to fix that, or change it. as long as im alive it will be their reality as my caretaker (because atm im unemployable obviously for those reasons).  and you go to therapy and they say “try writing about your anger,” you know. “try focusing on what makes you angry.” nothing makes me angry its not about that, its not about that at all and it shows a distinct lack of comprehension of what ptsd is. ptsd is your brain being unable to deal with minor, mundane, ordinary stress. and ppl dont grasp what the word stress in neurological contexts means. it means novel, sudden actions. there are even good stressors and bad stressors. sex is a good stressor! lots of action! lots of cognitive shit going on! going on a date, going to a movie, riding a roller coaster, meeting a stranger, being startled accidentally, dropping/breaking things, running out of meds, being late for something. theyre all ordinary things that most ppl can deal with even if its inconvenient. people with ptsd cant. because our brains are conditioned to view every stressor response as a potential trauma.  funny thing is when trauma is actually going down our brains are pretty damn good at entering the fun zone, its that latent logical shit, ya know what i mean. everything gets slow-motion and youre able to shut down your emotions and just act and do the shit that has to be done, just clench up and freeze and let your eyes drift and you’re ready to endure.  when you spend your whole life like that, every little thing becomes something your brain assesses as potentially traumatic, potentially going to harm you, your brain doesn’t know the difference between the telephone ringing unexpectedly or a masked intruder about to rape you. its like the fucking tumblr algorithm. beige tones?????//? ThIs iS nOt My SAfe PLAacE?!!! bam adrenal response. and im not trying to justify abuse, this isnt my attempt to justify it, but it is a real issue that exists for alot of people? probably people who arent involved in our community bc this seems to affect ppl who dont have regular access to online resources proportionately more (there is a link between being well-educated on ptsd and being better able to manage your ptsd, shocker water is wet etc etc, but its not imminently an obvious correlation! i dont hit people or break down the doors specifically because ive devoted my life to learning about and understanding my disorder) but there are people. we dont want to talk about this shit bc its like an open fucking secret, some of us get crazy some of us go fawn-like and become people pleasers, some of us get violent (’violence’ as a word im using to refer to ppl who explode outwardly and impact their environment in some way, not necessarily physical 100% of the time, you dont need to hit someone to be a violent person) anyway just thought id rant about this good luck chiddlers

[hea1ingprocess]

thoughts

yesterday was my first day at the part-time job my sister got for me teaching at a dance school (actually both of us bc we’re gonna be taking turns at shifts) and i didn’t realise it involved working with kids that young but it did make me think abt some stuff...

1. ok first up i rlly dont think ppl should teach kids if they havent done the research into how kids should be taught, or at least given it some thought...i honestly dont want to seem like im talking shit abt the teachers there but they just seemed like they didnt even want to be there! ngl i dont have much experience working with kids but i dont want to be telling them ‘hey u guys are the ones going in for the exam so if u dont know the steps then its ur fault’ like wow i dont know how to clearly articulate how i feel abt using statements like that on kids except that i feel BAD :-o honestly i want to give the teachers the benefit of the doubt and all that bc who am i to criticise their teaching they’ve prob been at it longer than me but if i were a kid in their classes i would tell my mum that i wouldnt want to go for dance class

2. so to put it broadly, teaching kids is different from teaching adults! like specifically in this context, teaching dance to kids is way different...i know that there is a syllabus that they’re expected to learn bc they hv exams but g*d some kids just wanna have fun......isnt dance supposed to be fun??? dont wanna go into class to be told ‘turn out point ur toes ur using the wrong muscle blah blah blah’ like...they’re 6-7 year olds......why

3. gotta know ur material.......like with the whole syllabus thing if u dont even know what ur teaching how can u teach...how?? when i did the celta my biggest fear was not knowing how grammar works and when i took french and my teacher didnt know how to explain stuff to use we’d be like uuhhhhhhh so i guess my point is, i do NOT want to be a teacher that doesnt know their shit!! obv its ok to not know stuff and you should admit when you dont know things instead of feeding ur students wrong info but when the teacher doesnt know the steps to a dance or an exercise and comes of extremely half-hearted and just cba....i dunno

this was yesterday so its been simmering in my mind for a while now but it also means all the strong emotions i felt while observing and assisting have faded and im like lol ok what did i just watch...also i did tell my mum that i dont want to teach ballet ever again but my past few interviews for other jobs havent gone so well so here i am...desperate...

[danfanciesphil]

L’Histoire Française (New Chapter)

Teacher AU (Part 8)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

(Part Six)

(Part Seven)

(Now Available on Ao3!)

Following the small incident with the French girl, Dan makes the decision to walk with a group of students on the way back to the hostel from Châtelet, letting John take  position at the front of the pack beside Phil, for once. 

“Did you and Mr Lester have a fight, sir?” Savannah asks, giggling. 

Dan chokes out what he hopes is a dismissive laugh, not sure how best to professionally respond. “N-no, of course not.”

“So why are you walking with us?” Lydia asks him, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. 

“I thought we were overdue a bonding session,” Dan jokes in a vain attempt to deflect their incessant questions. It doesn’t work. 

Lydia scoffs, rolling her eyes, and tugs on Savannah’s hand, leading her away. 

Dan shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant, and walks the rest of the way on his own. 

*

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Phil says, making Dan look up from his phone. 

He’s been neglecting it for the past few days, and now he’s taking the opportunity of this short period of time between activities to scroll through his many notifications. Three texts from Tyler, one from Teddy, multiple Facebook notifications, and a missed call from his mum. 

Instead of replying to any of them, Dan locks his phone, and turns to Phil. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Dan says, smiling. 

Phil smiles back, but he looks a little sheepish. “I lost my cool with that girl. I don’t get annoyed very often, but that was...” he frowns, and Dan stares at the unusual downturn of his mouth. “...difficult.”

“It’s fine,” Dan says, shrugging. 

He can feel the itch of curiosity simmering beneath his skin. As much as he knows it’s probably best to remain in the dark about whatever that girl had said, he can’t help but wonder. He suppresses the urge to ask Phil about it, reminding himself that if her words had been awful enough to prompt an angry response out of Phil Lester - the most easygoing, lovely, ray of sunshine the world has ever known - then Dan can be pretty sure he doesn’t need to hear them in English. 

“Can we just... forget that happened?” Phil asks, looking hopeful. 

His blue eyes shine, wide and round; Dan wonders how anyone could possibly ever refuse him. 

“Of course! Already forgotten.”

Phil smiles in relief, his shoulders drooping. “Cool, thanks. I’m gonna go tell the kids to get ready to eat.” 

“Another early dinner?” Dan asks.

“Yeah,” Phil replies, fluttering a wink at him. “Gotta leave for the surprise at seven.”

“Surprise?” Dan asks, but Phil is already slipping out of the door. 

*

Tyler Updates on le beefcake???

Tyler Daniel!! Have u snogged the  frenchie yet?!

Tyler If u return to England without at least one tale of debauchery im not letting you back in the house.

Dan lets out a breathy laugh behind his hand. 

Dan thts fine im 99% sure im gonna spontaneously combust before i get home anyway.  we’re sharing a room 😫

He sighs, glancing over at the unoccupied bed beside his; his heart pangs as he considers the fact that he’ll have yet another night of trying and failing to succumb to unconsciousness beside Phil, right here, this very evening. 

He scrolls down his messages to find Teddy’s, which are likely to be a little less excruciating in nature. 

Teddy Found any Parisian macarons yet?

Dan phil forced me to try one :’) they’re not bad.

Teddy hot. pls bring some home <3

Dan tell ur menace of a bf to stop texting me inappropriate things and we’ll see.

Tyler do you think i don’t see what you two text each other?? 

Giving up on the two of them, Dan pockets his phone again, feeling it buzzing in his pocket with more texts already. He remembers that his mum phoned, but he resolves to call her tomorrow. Right now, he’s too on edge for whatever this evening’s ‘surprise’ might be. 

As if summoned by this very thought, the door opens, and Phil steps back in, still seeming a little chagrinned. 

“Ready for dinner?” 

“Cardboard pizza and raw jacket potatoes?” Dan asks, standing from the bed. “Born ready.”

*

As Dan is nibbling the crust of his second slice of terrible pizza, Phil picks up his fork and makes a show of clinking it against the side of his plastic glass. Obviously, it doesn’t make a particularly loud noise, so he couples it a “ding, ding, ding!”  

Dan stares at him amusedly, the overly crunchy pizza clawing at his throat as he attempts to swallow it. He washes it down with a gulp of Coca-Cola Light, wincing. 

“Attention, folks,” Phil calls out to the students sat around the table. He stands from his chair, holding his glass up like he’s giving a toast. “I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you all how lovely it’s been having you with me on this trip. Thank you for putting up with my geeking out about this wonderful city. I know you’re all far too cool for me, so I appreciate it.” 

“Aw, give over, sir,” Jonah calls out, making several others laugh. “You ain’t that bad.”

“Yeah, we’ve had a well great time, Mr Lester!” Joanna shouts, grinning. 

“We love your geekiness, sir, don’t worry!” 

“Some of us more than others, maybe,” Jonah adds, aiming a wink at Dan that he pretends not to see. 

“Aw, well thank you very much, guys!” Phil says, appearing genuinely touched by these comments. “I hope you’ve all managed to learn something too, even if it’s just how to order a croissant from a boulangerie.” 

“I’m sure it’s been a very informative trip, and that we’ve all learned a great deal, right class?” John asks, earning himself a unanimous “ye-es, sir”. 

John smiles broadly, raising his glass to Phil’s. “How about a word of thanks to our lovely French-speaking tour guide then, everyone?” 

The class send up a hearty cheer for Phil, clapping their hands and calling their thanks out loud. Dan joins in, possibly a tad more enthusiastic than could be considered appropriate, but it doesn’t really matter. 

Phil laughs and bats his hands in the air, blushing. It’s adorable. 

Once the uproar quietens, a rosy-cheeked Phil straightens up once again, addressing the group. “Right, well, as a treat for our last night, I’ve booked us all a special surprise!” He announces, grinning. The class gasp and chatter excitedly, their hands clutching at one another. “For our final evening activity, we’re all booked onto a river cruise along the Seine! I’ve hired us a boat for the night, which will be sailing us down the river for a couple of hours. There’ll be drinks and snacks available from the bar, and music playing in case you fancy a dance. So after you’ve finished eating, run upstairs and get your frocks on, then we’ll head down to the docks.” 

The class cheer animatedly, whooping and clapping. Phil grins at them all, lifting his glass in acknowledgement, and then sits back down. 

Dan stares at him in awe. “A river cruise?”

“Don’t tell me you get seasick, Dan.” 

“No, it’s just...” Dan trails off, completely mesmerised by his own thoughts of the evening ahead. Gliding along the beautiful Parisian river in the darkness, Phil at his side. 

He gulps down some Coke, trying to comprehend it.

“A bit romantic?” Phil supplies, finishing Dan’s sentence for him. “How else am I supposed to woo you, Dan? Time’s running out.”

*

“I didn’t bring anything nice to wear,” Dan complains as he drags a third meme t-shirt out of his case and discards it onto the ‘nope’ pile on his bed. “You didn’t tell me we’d be dressing up.” 

Phil laughs at him from over the top of his phone screen. “It’s not a nineteenth century ball, Dan,” he says, “you don’t need to wear anything fancy if you don’t want. I just said that because the kids like to have an excuse to glam up. Like a school disco.”

Dan frowns at him, eyes roving over his outfit. Phil has already changed in the bathroom, and he looks ravishing. He’s wearing a dark blue and black checkered shirt, buttoned up to the collar. The contrast of the colours make his eyes and onyx hair pop; it’s taking a lot out of Dan to remain collected in his presence.

He sighs in frustration as he drinks in this delicious man once again, and tries not to despair as he looks down at his discarded pile of unsuitable clothing. Why is he even bothering to attempt looking nice? In comparison to Phil Lester he’s going to look like a gangly child anyway, 

Noticing Dan’s look of dismay, Phil stands up and walks to his side. It really doesn’t help Dan to calm down at all, having Phil looking this good, this close. 

“Hey, you can borrow a shirt if you want,” Phil offers, shrugging as he places a hand on Dan’s shoulder. 

Trying his utmost not to squeak at the unexpected touch, Dan latches onto Phil’s words. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” Phil replies, gesturing to his own case. “Have a rifle through.”

“You’re a godsend, Lester,” Dan mutters, feeling Phil’s hand slip from his shoulder as he crosses to Phil’s bed and begins pawing through his open suitcase. He shoots Phil a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Phil chuckles, shrugging again like it’s nothing. “Not a problem. Kind of goes against my end goal to actively clothe you, but hey ho.”

This sort of remark from Phil should come as no surprise at this point, but Dan still feels like the floor has been swept out from beneath his feet. He lets out a mildly hysterical sounding bubble of laughter, and turns his blushing gaze into Phil’s assorted shirt pile, trying to focus on the patterns.

“Anyway, I’m just gonna go and see John about the details of the boat,” Phil says, moving towards the door. “He was supposed to phone and check it was all still okay, but I forgot he can’t speak a word of French, so I imagine he might need some help.” 

Dan forces another laugh, this one sounding a touch more normal, and just nods at him in place of actual words. Phil gives a small wave, then disappears out of the door. 

Without dwelling too much on his choice, Dan selects a dark shirt from Phil’s case, grabs his towel, and runs in the direction of the bathroom for a quick shower. 

A cold one. 

*

By the time Dan has showered, dried and straightened his hair, dressed himself, and grabbed his wallet and phone, it’s almost time to leave. Phil left the room to round everyone up as Dan was still in the straightening stage, so at 6:55pm, he’s jogging down the hostel corridor to meet everyone else already gathered in the lobby. 

“Finally,” Jonah calls out, spotting Dan as he emerges, “what the heck were you doin’, sir? Strappin’ on your lingerie for later?” 

“Jonah Frank, that is not appropriate,” John snaps, glaring at the teen. 

VP Green looks rather polished this evening, Dan can’t help but notice, swiftly taking in his dark slacks and tan blazer. Phil spins on his heel then, mouth slightly parted as though he’s about to make his own comment on Dan’s late appearance, but he pauses, mouth remaining open as he sees Dan for the first time. 

Dan’s initial thought is, of course, that he’s done something stupid and embarrassing like come down without his trousers on, or with shampoo still clumped in his hair. 

He looks down at his outfit, checking, and cards his fingers through his carefully straightened locks. The weight of Phil’s gaze rests heavily on him, lingering, but he can’t figure out why. 

He raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘what’s up?’, but Phil abruptly turns from him, a strange expression on his face. 

Weird, Dan thinks, feeling far less confident in his appearance than he had when he cast a final look in the mirror a few minutes ago. 

“Right, everyone here?” Phil asks the general mob, and the students murmur a vague affirmation. “Well, if anyone’s left behind, can someone please text them now, because we’re leaving.” 

Dan pulls his (faux) leather jacket tighter around himself, comforted by the way the familiar material has shaped itself to his frame over the years. Phil’s shirt feels taut and starchy against his skin, but he likes the idea of wearing something of Phil’s, so he’s putting up with it. 

John falls into step with him as they set off out of the hostel entrance, surveying Dan with something like surprise. 

“You certainly scrub up well, don’t you!” John exclaims, patting Dan on the back. “Who’d have thought it?”

Dan laughs nervously, a little confused by this statement. He’s only wearing a shirt and skinny jeans. Sure, he spent a little extra time preening himself tonight, but it’s hardly a groundbreaking change, surely. 

“Not so bad yourself, VP Green,” Dan replies politely, to which John barks a laugh. 

“Too kind, but I rather think my days of catching anyone’s eye are behind me, Dan,” he says with a sigh. “The dark circles tend to send them running, nowadays.”

Matthew begins shoving Jonah in the side then, angry about some unknown disagreement, and John steps forwards to intervene, leaving Dan alone again. 

Not particularly wanting to be caught up in another unsettling conversation about his over-fondness for these kids’ teacher again, Dan walks swiftly to the front of the pack in order to walk with Phil. 

“Getting a bit rowdy back there,” Dan comments, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Might have someone overboard tonight if we’re not careful.” 

Phil is staring at him again; he barely seems to be aware of what Dan is saying, which is bizarre. Usually Phil is such an attentive listener. 

“That shirt really suits you,” Phil says after a moment, which sends all the blood rushing into Dan’s head. His head swims a little. 

“Oh, th-thanks,” he manages, eyes falling towards his shoes. “Guess whoever bought it must have really good taste.”

Phil smiles, but it’s faint. His azure eyes track across Dan’s torso, searing a trail of fire into Dan’s flesh as they go. 

His tongue flicks out across his bottom lip; Dan almost walks straight into a lamppost, he’s so distracted by it. 

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Phil says.

*

It occurs to Dan only as he is stood on the wooden deck of a lightly rocking boat, gliding over the inky waters of the Seine, that he has never been on a river cruise before now. Once, during his Freshers Week at university, he’d attended a boat party, but as far as he remembers (that night had been a particularly messy one) that boat had never actually left the dock. 

They’ve been going along for around an hour, and Dan can’t seem to move away from the edge of the boat, mesmerised by the sight of Paris sliding by, a twinkling blur of golden light and colour, beautiful and dazzling. 

“So, has Paris captured your heart?” Phil asks, stood beside him, his fringe fluttering upwards in the cool breeze. 

A fist closes itself around Dan’s heart as he drinks in the sight of such a perfect, sweet smile, directed, bafflingly, towards him. 

“Something like that.” 

“‘He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime’,” Phil says, his voice taking on a theatrical tone. “Victor Hugo said that.” 

“Victor Hugo?” Dan asks, smiling fondly.

“He wrote Les Misérables,” Phil says, “and The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” 

“Hm,” Dan says, nodding. “I reckon he was onto something. Paris is definitely... overwhelming.”

The way Phil is smiling at him is starting to make Dan want to squirm. He does not feel deserving of such warm attention, especially from someone so amazing. 

“Overwhelming in a good way?” 

Dan stares into the endless chambers of Phil’s glowing blue eyes, watching the lights of the city glimmer in their depths. “Overwhelming in a wonderful way.”

There’s a pause then, their eyes sticking to one another like they’ve been frozen in position, the narrow tunnels of their gazes fused. Light hubbub echoes in the background, of the students milling around the deck, alongside the soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat. 

Eventually, Dan gathers himself, clearing his throat as he turns back to the sight of the illuminated buildings at the water’s edge. They pass under a bridge, lit up and gorgeous; dark, softened shadows caress Phil’s profile, sweeping across his porcelain skin, as though they can see how beautiful it is. As if they want to touch it for themselves. 

“Beautiful,” Dan whispers without thinking. He starts, scrambling for words. “I mean, this is beautiful. The boat, the river... You’re good at surprises.” 

“Thanks,” Phil says happily. “I love surprises.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil says, looking at him. “Can’t you tell?”

Dan frowns, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you were a surprise,” Phil says, like it’s obvious. “You might be the best one I’ve ever had.” 

He’s never going to be used to the flirting, Dan thinks as his muscles seize up, his breath catching in his throat. Something about this time felt a little different though, Dan can’t help thinking. This time felt softer, truer. 

He shakes his head free of the absurd thought before he runs away with it. 

There’s no point entertaining the thought that Phil is doing anything other than being a flirtatious little minx, as always, just for the hell of it. 

Phil chuckles at him then, probably in response to seeing how hard Dan is concentrating. Then, he leans in, bringing his mouth to Dan’s ear.

“What would you say if I asked you to do something irresponsible with me?” 

There is no response available in Dan’s brain, short-circuited as it is by that illegal-tackle of a question, so he just gapes at Phil blankly, trying to process it. 

Phil laughs again, then grabs Dan by the forearm and drags him away from the edge, towards the cabin of the boat. 

* 

As it turns out, ‘something irresponsible’ turns out to be drinking. 

The bar on this boat is supposed to only serve soft drinks this evening, under Phil’s express instruction, but after five minutes of Phil’s charming grins and witty repartee, the bartender agrees to make an exception for the two of them. 

They get a bottle of wine between them, hidden under Phil’s jacket. After just one glass, Dan can feel the bones and muscle in his body becoming lighter, his laughs bubbling up with ease. His hands become magnets, drawn to the polars of Phil’s arms and back, seeking out his addictive warmth without permission. 

They wander around the deck, pressed against each other’s sides, sneaking dribbles of wine into their plastic cups out of sight of the kids. 

John is preoccupied in what looks like a deep conversation with the captain, so they’re able to keep their irresponsible behaviour from him, as well. Phil asks Dan a plethora of questions, about his past, about his family, about his future plans and life goals. Dan does his best to answer them, but keeps reminding Phil that there’s simply no way he could possibly give any answer that will satisfy, because he’s just not that interesting. 

Phil disagrees vehemently each time Dan says this, which is ridiculous, but it’s quite sweet too, so Dan doesn’t really mind. 

On their third loop of the deck, they find that a handful of the students have found some chairs, and arranged them in a circle beside the outer wall of the cabin, out of the path of the icy wind. The students cheer as they notice Dan and Phil strolling by, and call them over.

Propelled in no small part by their alcohol-softened, happy moods, they wander towards the group, pink-cheeked and smiling. 

“Come play a game with us, sirs,” Savannah calls out, her eyes already glinting with mischief. 

Jonah barks a laugh at this, but nods fervently in agreement. “Yeah, grab some chairs, Mr Lester.” 

A mistrust of this situation immediately cloaks itself over Dan, but he’s in too much of a good mood to really mind it. He ignores his instinct to refuse the offer, and sits in a chair Phil finds him, hands wrapped around his plastic cup, still.  

He glances at Phil as if to check this is within the rules, and Phil just shrugs at him, managing to somehow discreetly pour some more wine into his own glass, shielded by his jacket. 

He tucks the bottle beneath his arm, expertly concealing it from the kids as he sits to Dan’s right, the two of them nestled between Jonah and Bethany. 

“So, what’s the game?” Dan asks, sipping wine as casually as possible. 

“Aw, you’ll love it, sir,” Jonah grins, raising his own glass, full of something that looks suspiciously like a spirit. It can’t be though, Dan thinks in confusion. It must be apple juice. “It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever’.” 

The bottom drops out of Dan’s stomach. He turns to Phil, sat beside him, sending him a horrified glance. Phil looks weirdly nonplussed about this answer, and just shrugs at Dan, smiling. 

“Phil,” Dan hisses at him, “we can’t. Not with students.”

“Come on, if it gets out of hand we can just get up and leave,” Phil says in a voice which sounds an awful lot like the alcohol is persuading him not to fully appreciate the weight of his own decisions right now. 

But partly because it’s warmer here, sat with the others out of the wind, and partly because he doesn’t want to appear a joy-kill in comparison to Phil, Dan just sits back in his chair, reluctantly accepting his fate. 

“Okay, so Katie’s starting,” Jonah declares, grinning at the girl in question. She glares at him, but sighs in acceptance. 

“Alright, never have I ever... been to Paris.” 

The group groan at Katie, rolling their eyes as they all take a sip from their glasses. Dan drinks some wine, catching Phil’s eye amusedly, both of them acknowledging the hilarity of this situation. 

This, Dan considers, is something truly irresponsible. 

“Never have I ever gotten a tattoo,” Bethany shouts out from Katie’s left. 

“What?” Dan cries out, horrified. “Aren’t you all, like, twelve?” 

Everyone splutters with laughter, including Phil. 

“Mr Howell, we’re fourteen!” Savannah cries out, indignant. 

“S’not much better,” Dan mumbles, but he’s blushing faintly. 

He glances at Phil, just in time to see him take a discreet sip of his wine. Dan’s eyes widen in shock, and he suppresses the urge to ask him aloud what the fuck kind of tattoo he has, and more importantly where. 

Luckily, everyone is too distracted by Jonah gulping down his own drink to notice. 

“What have you got, Jonah?” 

“As if he has!” 

“No way could he have gotten a tat,” Matthew cries, but he doesn’t sound totally sure. 

Jonah just waggles his eyebrows at everyone, grinning. “If you wanna have a go at finding it Savannah, I’d let you.” 

Savannah rolls her eyes, grimacing, and the others chuckle. “Isn’t it time for someone else’s go?”

“It’s Mr Howell’s turn, innit?” 

Dan, who is still busy gawping at Phil in disbelief, snaps his head back to the others at the sound of his name. “Huh? Oh, right. Um,” he swallows, mind racing as he struggles to think of something appropriate. 

Phil is smirking at him behind his glass, and it isn’t helping. Every time Dan has ever played this game in the past, it has inevitably dissolved into almost cruelly specific, hyper-sexual questioning designed to get people to admit their strange kinks and embarrassing anecdotes. Not to mention, to get people wasted. 

That, for obvious reasons, should probably be avoided this time. 

“Uh, never have I ever,” Dan begins, no idea where the sentence is headed. “Thought Mr Lester was my favourite teacher.”

The others groan and cackle at this, practically falling off their chairs in order to protest.

“Mr Howell, you sap,” someone shouts.

“Why’re you suckin’ up to him, sir? You’re not even in his class!” 

“Can you be more up his ass, Howell?” 

“Mate, you are so whipped.” 

“Alright, alright,” Dan laughs, the alcohol in his system helping him to take the comments in his stride, “you’re all drinking though, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, and you as well, sir,” Jonah points out. 

Dan shrugs in agreement, taking a gulp of wine as well. Everyone else in the circle takes a sip, which is kind of sweet. Dan sneaks a look at Phil, who is looking rather embarrassed, but pleased. 

Phil laughs awkwardly then, but nods his thanks to the group nevertheless. “Very sweet everyone, thank you. Good to know that if you were drinking actual alcohol right now, your favour for my teaching methods would currently be getting you all plastered.” 

The others laugh, and Dan smiles at the joke, feeling warm and light. 

“Your turn now, sir,” Jonah tells Phil. 

“Hmm,” Phil says, sighing. “Never have I ever...” he sneaks a look at Dan, who   can immediately tell that he’s got something evil planned. “...secretly straightened my hair every morning for years to hide the fact I actually have curls.”

The look Dan gives Phil is one of utter betrayal. He sighs heavily, glaring, and tips a little more wine than planned into his mouth. 

The students laugh and shout their disbelief, which only makes things worse, as their astonishment only proves that Dan had, until this point, been fooling them with his painstaking straightening every day. 

“In other news, Mr Lester and I are no longer friends,” Dan announces, shooting Phil a look of pretend anger. 

Phil just laughs at him, not looking the tiniest bit sorry. He tilts his glass to Dan, and winks. 

“Boyfriends now is it, sir?” Jonah asks, laughing at his own joke. 

Dan shuts his eyes in mortification, realising a second too late that he’s being a tad too casual with Phil to be considered appropriate right now. When Dan opens his eyes, the game is moving on, thank heavens. It’s now Jonah’s turn.

Dan’s stomach immediately flips as he realises this, and he tries his best to suppress the urge to give Phil a look of anticipatory fear. 

“Okay, never have I ever...” Jonah pauses, his eyes narrowed as he sweeps his gaze across the faces in the circle, assessing. He lands on Dan, and lingers a moment longer, a slow smirk spreading over his mouth. “Had a crush on Mr Lester.” 

Oh, fuck.

Every single pair of eyes in the circle turn towards him, and Dan can honestly say that he would rather the boat suddenly split in half and let him tumble in a Leonardo DiCaprio-style act of heroic sacrifice, into the depths of the Seine beneath. 

*

His head in his hands, elbows on the cool metal railing of the boat’s edge, Dan feels a gentle hand placing itself between his shoulder blades. He shudders at the unexpected touch, knowing exactly who it belongs to. 

“Dan, it’s okay,” Phil says, his voice like a soft, sandy shoreline after miles of aggressive, churning sea. 

Dan lifts his head from his hands with a great sigh, staring out into the clusters of houses and shops and bars lining the banks of the river. In his peripheral vision, he notices Phil coming to lean on the railing beside him, close enough that their elbows brush. 

He wishes, in a small sense, that Phil would move away. Every second he spends so close is only making this crush Dan can’t help harbouring that much worse. 

“Phil, this is not okay,” Dan finds himself saying. 

He’s dropped his wine glass somehow, somewhere, and he misses it suddenly. He’s certain that there was some left inside. He could use some dutch courage in order to say what he feels like he needs to, right now. 

Phil turns to face him, smiling as ever, seeing nothing amiss because he’s a big, sunny orb of optimism and cheer. 

“They’re just bored kids, don’t listen to them,” Phil says, one shoulder shrugging in dismissal. “They’re teasing you to get a reaction, but they’re just talking crap.” 

“But it’s not crap, is it Phil?” Dan almost shouts, the words bursting from deep within his chest, as though they’ve been crammed in for too long, shoved down into the depths, hidden. 

Dan can feel Phil turn his head in surprise at the outburst, but he doesn’t meet Phil’s gaze. Instead, he continues to stare stubbornly out at the shore, swallowing thickly. His hands ball into fists.

“They’re saying all that stuff because they know,” Dan continues, hearing his own voice take on a whiny quality, but not being able to stop it. 

“They know...?” 

Dan looks skyward, wondering how much mortification one human person can physically withstand before they dissolve into a squishy pink pile of liquified sludge. 

Is he really going to have to spell this out?

“Yes,” Dan confirms, teeth gritted. “They know because I stare at you, and I laugh too loudly at your stupid puns, and my whole body goes bright red when you wink at me, or smile at me, or say anything even vaguely flirtatious.” 

“Um... I don’t know if I get what you mean-”

The adrenaline flooding through Dan’s veins just from trying to stumble through this conversation is swirling with the alcohol already lacing his blood, making everything shimmer and pulsate. Dan can feel his hands shaking, and the thud of his frantic heartbeat is practically deafening. 

He groans, cutting Phil off, and covers his eyes with his fingers. “It’s just...” Dan starts to say, no idea where he’s going with this now, “it would all be fine, wouldn’t it, if you were boring? If you were some random - admittedly hot - but, like, ordinary, worksheets and PowerPoint presentations type history teacher, with just the one language up their sleeve, and no sense of humour.” 

Dan can feel Phil’s eyes boring into the side of his head, and he knows he should just shut the fuck up, because he could be ruining everything, and it’s really not worth it, but he can’t. Alcohol has always been like truth serum to Dan, has always made him too honest, has always been the key to unlock the floodgates of his closed-off personality. 

“But you’re not,” Dan says, allowing himself one sneaky little glance at Phil’s wide-eyed expression before dragging his eyes away. “You’re exciting and intelligent and spontaneous. You’re an exceptional teacher, and you’re everyone’s favourite, including mine. And you’re too flirty, especially with me, which just makes it all so much worse. You call me cute, and pretty - because I think you did say pretty to that baker - and you wink at me, and say things just to see me blush. You stand too close to me, so much, all the time, so close that it makes me think that maybe, possibly, you might...” Dan pauses. “But you don’t! You never do! You just step away again, and it’s not fair, because the kids can all see it, written all over my fucking gobsmacked face, and-”

Dan’s not certain how it happens, but one moment he’s complaining, rambling at Phil, hunched over the railing, and the next he’s being pushed up against a nearby pole, Phil so close that Dan can feel the moisture on his breath.

He blinks, his sentence falling away from his lips as he stares into the impossible, never-ending oceans of Phil’s eyes. They shine with life, an excited kind of exuberance that makes them appear even brighter, even more colourful.

Dan swears he can see gold flakes flickering in their depths.

A second passes, and Dan realises he can hear the thudding of Phil’s heart, can feel Phil’s hands resting on his hips, just beneath the hem of his jacket. 

“Phil, I swear to fucking God,” Dan whispers, his heart going so fast he thinks it might be humming. “If you move away right now...” 

Phil lets out a very small little laugh, and Dan can feel the breeze of it tickle against his chin. “Then what?”

The effort it takes not to surge forwards and kiss Phil is astronomical, and Dan can feel his bones beginning to ache from it. He lets out a tiny noise of frustration, and something about it seems to ignite Phil’s reflexes. 

It’s just as Dan is really wondering if he might be about to die of yearning, that Phil leans in, closing the gap between their mouths, a few inches, and a thousand, long, exhausting, miles.  

Considering that they are standing so close, it perhaps shouldn’t feel as much of a surprise as it does, but Dan feels the shock slicing down to his core. 

The  soft give of Phil’s lips pushing against his. 

The incremental tightening of Phil’s hands against the bones of his hips. 

The overpowering warmth of his lean body, pressed in a hard line against Dan’s front. 

He loses the ability to move, or think, or react. He can only stay motionless, stupefied, as Phil kisses him, his mind a white, blank void, his joints taut. A few seconds tick by, and Dan’s brain gradually begins to turn its cogs again, just enough to propel him into the sensation of Phil’s lips, kissing back as his hands grapple for purchase around Phil’s forearms. 

It’s over in seconds. 

A kiss so fleeting, yet so charged, that it literally leaves Dan breathless. 

His lungs seize up, and he stops respiring, mouth parted in astonishment as Phil leans away. He’s smiling very slightly, a secret tucked into the whites of his eyes. 

“Dan,” he whispers, shaking his head, “do you honestly think all this is one-sided?” 

Before Dan can possibly begin unravelling that heavily knotted mess of a question, three chattering teenagers round the corner of the cabin, and Phil leaps backwards, his hands slipping from their hold on Dan’s hips. 

“Oi, oi!” Jonah calls out. 

Of course it’s Jonah, Dan thinks, eyes fluttering shut. 

“What’s all this then, sirs?” Jonah is grinning madly at them; Dan turns away from him because he simply does not trust himself to respond in any way, even in terms of body language, without making this entire situation a thousand times worse. “Havin’ a li’l snog on the Seine?” 

“Mr Howell and I are going over some curriculum matters, Jonah,” Phil says sternly, though there’s a slightly amused lilt to his voice, if Dan is not mistaken. “We can’t be spending the whole night playing silly games with you and your friends. Go and find Mr Green if you need something.” 

“Ooh, sounds like we’re interrupting something, guys,” Jonah says to Matthew and Joanna, stood beside him; Matthew lets out a low whistle. “We’ll leave you to it, sirs.”

The others snigger, hiding their laughter behind their hands, and start to walk off. Dan turns, ready to demand a thousand answers from Phil about what just happened, but before he can speak, John rounds the corner as well, bumping into Jonah and the others as he does so. 

He catches Dan’s eye, appearing exasperated, and stalks towards them. “Ah, there you both are! I’ve been going mad trying to find the two of you. I was wondering if you’d swum back to shore!” 

Dan shakes his head, dazed. “N-nope.” 

“Sorry, John,” Phil says, sounding a little hollow. “Didn’t mean to go AWOL. We’ve been... supervising Jonah and some others.” 

John sighs, glancing over at where Jonah, Matthew and Joanna all loiter nearby, still glancing over at Dan and Phil, making some rather obscene gestures when VP Green isn’t looking. 

“I see,” John says, “well, I’d appreciate a hand with Caoibhe and Regina, if you’re not busy. They both seem to be suffering with some seasickness, so...”

Dan phases John out at this point, turning as discreetly as he can to stare at Phil, who is looking at John as though he’d rather the older man dove off the side of the boat. 

“Sure, sure,” Phil murmurs distractedly as John rambles on. “Look, John, we’re more than happy to help. We’ll see you by the bathrooms to help with the sick girls in five minutes, okay?” 

“Five minutes?” John asks, bewildered as he looks between Dan and Phil. “Why, what do you need to do for five minutes?” 

A pained expression passes over Phil’s features, and he casts a brief, apologetic look at Dan, sighing. 

“Nothing,” he says through his teeth, dredging up a strained smile from somewhere. “Lead the way, John-o.”

John turns on his heel, walking briskly back the way he came, past Jonah and friends, towards the cabin of the boat. Phil falls into step behind him, maintaining a far slower pace, and Dan, still not sure what the fuck is even happening right now, shakily walks beside him. 

Once John is just out of earshot, Phil leans towards him, sending Dan’s pulse skyrocketing once again, and whispers one, solitary word. 

“Later.” 

*

Later, as it turns out, is not until the boat has docked once more, their party of teens and young adults have disembarked, and they have herded a gaggle of hyper, partied-out students back through the cobbled streets to the L’Hotel Montparnasse.

Try as he does to maintain a collected air of professionalism, Dan spends the hour and a half proceeding Phil kissing him in a dreamy, dumb, stupor. He finds himself unable to answer the simplest questions asked to him by students, and cannot even seem to hold himself upright for longer than a few minutes without swaying to one side, busy as he is with replaying the moment over in his mind. 

Phil, on the other hand, seems to be holding himself together rather well, from what Dan can see. He casts several loaded, meaningful glances at Dan, a thousand apologies and promises curled within the azure depths of his eyes. 

As they walk home, past the Champs-Élysées, Dan feels Phil’s fingers curl very briefly around his hand. 

But it’s gone before he knows it. 

Eventually, after what feels to Dan like years, they reach the hostel. Between the three of them, John, Phil and Dan count up the students, and send them all off towards their rooms. 

“Dan,” Phil says in a low voice. Long fingers curl around Dan’s wrist. “Why don’t you go up to the room? John and I will just make sure everyone’s packed and ready to leave.”

“Right,” Dan almost whispers, eyes glued to the hand wrapped around his arm. 

“See you upstairs,” Phil says, releasing him. 

Dan looks him in the eye, breath caught. “Okay.”

*

It seems to take hours for Phil to get back to the room. Dan doesn’t dare do anything but wait for him, legs tucked uncomfortably beneath himself on his bed, fully dressed still, right down to his shoes. 

He’s taken his jacket off, but only because the air is suddenly stifling in here, though he hasn’t noticed it until right now. His mind whirls, a rickety fairground ride caught in a high wind, its flashing novelty lights streaming through the night sky as it careers from left to right. 

He can feel the indents of Phil’s lips, moulded into his own, he’s sure. Carefully, he lets the tip of his tongue run over the thin, slightly chapped skin, tasting what’s left of him. 

His fingers drum against his leg as he replays that one moment, the moment to trump all moments, over and over. 

Do you honestly think all this is all one-sided?

What had Phil meant? Could he have been implying that, somehow, miraculously, he feels the same way Dan feels? Impossibly, it seems that he might even be saying he has been feeling it all along. All this time.

How is that possible?

To distract himself, lest his over-analysis drive him mad, Dan reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out his phone. 

Dan Ty, I think something is about to happen.

Dan Help me.

He waits, staring at his phone, muttering “reply, reply, reply” under his breath. There’s no excuse for Tyler not to. That guy never has his phone more than two feet from his hand. 

Sure enough, around fifteen seconds later, Dan’s phone buzzes in his palm. Then it buzzes again. And again. 

Tyler WHAT

Tyler DAN OMG

Tyler Are you about to bang him?!!

Dan’s face immediately pales, and he drops his phone on the bed. Christ, he is not prepared for this, emotionally speaking. 

Dan I DONT KNOW

Tyler WTF is happening??? HOw are you texting me??? WHAT HAPPENED

Dan he kissed me

Tyler WJHAT

Dan We were interrupted. Now Im  waiting in our room for him

Tyler WHATOMGFdFFSD

Dan TYLER DO YOU HAVE ANY ACTUAL ADVICE COS THIS IS JUST MAKING IT WORSE

Tyler ok ok ok ummmmmm oh wow

Dan looks down at the three dots pulsating under Tyler’s response in despair. If this is Tyler’s idea of advice, he’s royally fucked. 

Tyler ok so just breathe. he’s already  made the move! you know he  likes you

Trying to follow Tyler’s instructions, Dan inhales deeply, filling his lungs with some much needed oxygen. His heart is still jackhammering, but he does feel a little more clear-headed. 

Tyler from the sounds of it he might try and go for it - do u  want something to happen??

Dan swallows, trying to conjure up the insane scenario of actually getting physical with Phil Lester, the man of his (until now) very fictional daydreams. 

Dan think i might combust but fuck yes i do

Tyler then just let it happen hun! Teddy says use protection 

Tyler i say have fun and tell me every fuckin  detail bitch

Dan chuckles, unable to help himself from laughing at Tyler’s typical absurdity, and at that moment, there is the distinct sound of the door being unlocked from the outside.

Dan freezes in shock, dropping his phone onto the bed, Tyler and Teddy forgotten. He can feel the beads of sweat pearling on his brow, dampening his fringe. It will curl in the moisture, Dan thinks, irritated. But then, Phil had said once that he actually quite liked the curls. 

The door opens, and Phil steps into the room, his jacket still on. The corner of his mouth tilts upwards as he locks eyes with Dan, and he closes the door softly behind him, not once looking away. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Dan squeaks back. 

Smiling still, Phil moves further into the room, shrugging off his jacket as he goes. He reaches into the inner pocket before discarding it onto his bed, and pulls out a half empty bottle of whiskey. 

“Look what I confiscated from Jonah,” he says, his smile growing a little wider. 

Dan’s eyes fall to the bottle, barely registering it. He tries to nod, but can’t seem to do more than jerk his chin a little. Phil chuckles lightly, then reaches down to unscrew the cap. 

“It would be irresponsible of us not to dispose of this, don’t you think?” Phil asks, taking a sip of the whiskey. Dan’s eyes hone in on the amber liquid, trickling between the purse of Phil’s lips. He takes the bottle away from his mouth, eyes glinting. “Wanna help me get rid of it?”

Before Dan can answer, Phil is moving towards him, climbing up onto Dan’s bed. In itself, this is enough to make Dan want to scream, but then Phil is hooking a leg over Dan’s thighs, straddling him, his knees settled snugly either side of Dan’s hips.

Dan chokes on his own saliva, every droplet of blood in his body rushing south as Phil settles himself comfortably in Dan’s lap. Phil looks down into Dan’s face, still amused, and takes another sip from the bottle. 

He holds the bottle out for Dan then, one eyebrow raised. Dan grabs hold of it, taking a large swig, mostly because he doubts he will be able to manage to stay coherent throughout this if he’s sober. 

Hyper-aware of how restricted his movements have become with Phil on top of him, Dan leans back as far as he can and places the bottle on the bedside table. 

He leans back up, his body thrumming with adrenaline, and then Phil kisses him, fiercely, harshly, like he can’t stop himself from swooping in and stealing the kiss from Dan’s lips. His lips are fiery with whiskey and warmth; Dan imagines he can taste every molecule, every atom that makes him up. Can feel the singing of their sister particles floating in distant galaxies, as they sense the collision of their mouths. 

It is glorious. 

He hears the cataclysmic swell of a symphony at its climax, and the lovestruck cry of a great, majestic whale. The white noise roars in his eardrums, and Dan wonders why everything is so loud, until he realises that his own heartbeat is the instrument making the cacophony.

He clutches at Phil’s arms, trying helplessly to pour as much as he can into this one joining of their mouths. His fingers claw and cling, desperate to pull him closer, despite how pressed together they already are. 

Phil is pushing him backwards, and Dan is about to fall back onto the mattress, he’s sure, but then Phil’s hands are fisting in his shirt, hauling him upright again.

Phil’s lips slide from his, peppering hard, insistent kisses across the flush of his cheek, dragging over the line of his jaw. Dan gasps as he feels the scrape of teeth, just below his ear, and then biting at the lobe, teasing and too, too much. 

“Ça fait des semaines,” Phil whispers, sounding almost pained, “que j'en avais envie.”

Dan shudders; he has little to no idea what Phil is saying, but it doesn’t even matter. He imagines he can hear the sinful tone dripping from each syllable, and it only makes everything ten times headier, more euphoric. 

“Fuck,” Dan whispers. 

In another circumstance, he might feel embarrassed at being so ineloquent in the face of Phil’s beautiful, natural slide into his second language, but right now he literally cannot think of any word that sums up his current tumult of emotions better.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Dan cries out, his hands clutching at Phil’s shoulders as he feels the older man move his searching kisses to Dan’s throat. “Wait, Phil, I- AH!”

Phil pauses, having just sunk his teeth very lightly into the spot just above Dan’s collarbone. He pulls away cautiously, leaning backwards to look Dan in the eye, mildly alarmed.

“Ça va?”

Dan can’t help but splutter a laugh, nodding his affirmation, though in truth he’s not totally certain. Is he really okay, right now?

“S-sorry,” he manages, somehow, to spit out. “It’s just... my neck, um, it’s- it’s really, um...”

Dan trails off, mostly because his cheeks feel like they’re about to burst into flames. 

Phil quirks an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his mouth. “Oh.” 

Dan doesn’t have time to respond before Phil is leaning back in towards him, sealing his lips back against the skin of his throat. Dan sucks in a sharp intake of breath, at once jerking backwards and pulling Phil close. 

He squirms as Phil begins sucking at the skin, his teeth digging in to the soft flesh; it will definitely leave a mark, Dan thinks, unable to stop a small whimper escaping. 

His neck is ridiculously sensitive, it always has been. Dan’s last girlfriend, Stephanie, had tried giving him a hickey once, whilst drunk, and she’d sucked so hard that the bruise had stayed deep, dark and ferociously noticeable for weeks. 

As Phil bites at him, just the right side of painful, teeth worrying at him as though he wants to devour Dan bit by bit, he thinks he wouldn’t care if Phil marked him permanently. 

Eventually, just as Dan’s efforts to keep his embarrassing whines under wraps begin breaking apart, Phil leans away, finding Dan’s lips again and kissing hard enough to bruise. 

“Tes baisers sont comme une drogue,” Phil moans against his mouth, then takes Dan’s lower lip between his teeth.

Dan is sure he’s about to pass out, partly from the lack of oxygen managing to work its way between their kisses, and partly from the thrill of this, of just being immersed, so heavily, in Phil, in his touch and weight and taste. 

“Phil,” Dan whispers, dumbed. 

At that moment, like a bucket of icy Seine river water being thrown down upon their heads, a knock raps at the door, loud and even. 

Phil rears backwards from Dan, his head whirling to face the noise so fast that Dan feels a little dizzied. 

Neither of them speak. Phil turns back to Dan slowly, a look of dread passing over his face. It occurs to Dan, belatedly, that they are currently in an extremely incriminating position, in the eyes of anyone on the other side of that door. 

He meets Phil’s gaze, suddenly terrified. 

Another knock sounds, longer and more insistent this time. Phil rises from Dan’s lap, scooting off him entirely, and scrambles into a standing position beside the bed, pink-cheeked. 

He runs a hand through his hair, tugs at his rumpled shirt and fusses with his collar for a moment, before heading towards the door. Dan watches him do this, bewildered, still in a stupor; it’s only when Phil turns to give him a look, one hand on the door, that Dan realises he probably needs to sort out his appearance too. 

He smooths down his hair, hands shaking, and attempts to gather the many, many loose, tangled threads of his unravelled emotions. 

Dan casts a look around his immediate vicinity, looking for anything incriminating, and spots the bottle of whiskey, still perched on the bedside table. He grabs hold of it, tucking it out of sight, beneath the bed. 

Phil sighs in relief, nodding at him, then takes a deep breath, and pulls open the door. 

John’s raised fist sails through the air into nothing. 

“Oh!” John exclaims, straightening up. “You are awake. I thought you might’ve gone to bed already.” 

Phil forces the most pretend-sounding laugh Dan has ever heard. “Oh, um, no not yet.” 

“Best be getting those pyjamas on soon, then!” John says brightly. “Up bright and early tomorrow!” 

Phil nods, smiling at John. “Yep, we will, don’t worry.” 

“Just wanted to check the times with you,” John continues, placing a halting hand on the door as Phil inches it closed. “The bus is leaving at what time, did you say?” 

“Um...” Phil flounders, casting a look over his shoulder at Dan, clearly at a loss. 

For some reason the number springs into Dan’s otherwise blank mind. He holds up nine fingers. 

“It leaves at nine,” Phil says, turning back to John. He fakes a yawn, fanning a hand over his mouth. “Anything else, John? You’re right, we should probably get to-”

“What time should we get the kids up?” John asks, still chipper.

“Um, I- I don’t...”

“Is Dan in there too?” John asks, pushing the door open wide. 

Dan freezes in alarm, sure he’s got ‘I was just snogging Phil’ stamped across his forehead. Instead of gasping in horror however, John just smiles at him, sending a little wave from the doorway. 

Dan returns it, meekly, trying not to be too obvious about sending little ‘help’ glances at Phil, who is still stood, despairing, by the open door. 

“Ah, there he is!” John says. “What time should we send round a wake up call, d’you think, Dan? About seven-thirty? We’ve got to squeeze in breakfast for them, which we can do at about eight, and then they’ll probably be ready by nine I should think as long as they get their things together...”

John rambles on for another minute and a half, during which time Dan just nods and tries to remain calm. He focuses on regulating his breathing, his palms clammy and damp with the effort of trying to look normal. 

“Anyway!” John says at last. “I’ll leave you to it then, boys. Thanks for a lovely trip! It’s been grand! See you in the morning.” 

Then, with one final wave, he’s walking away, back down the corridor towards his room. Phil shuts the door quietly, the little click still loud enough to make Dan wince. 

Once they’re alone, Dan melts, flopping back onto his mattress, his muscles screaming in relief, released of tension. 

“Holy shit,” Dan says, blood pounding in his ears. 

Phil is being awfully silent, so Dan sits up at once, terrified that this interruption will have slapped him into sense, and that he’ll have changed his mind about whether or not it was a good idea to kiss Dan at all.  

“Phil?” Dan asks timidly, finding that his feet are wandering away from him, standing up off the bed and walking over to the door. Dan only stops when he’s standing right in front of Phil, hands balled into fists, heart pounding. “Are you okay?” 

Phil stares at him, chewing the thumbnail of his left hand. He flicks his gaze over Dan’s face once, and then steps forwards, shoving him (carefully) against the nearest wall. 

It’s delicious, tasting his lips again, and Dan welcomes them as they crash against his; the sea shore, spread wide and inviting for the turbulent, sapphire waves. 

And then, as quickly as it came, it’s over. Phil steps away, jumping backwards as if Dan’s skin is alight. Dan travels with him a few inches, not expecting the sudden loss, and then just stares in bewilderment. 

“Dan, we- we can’t,” Phil tells him, his eyebrows creased in regret. “I’m sorry, I just... we can’t. Not- not now.”

“What?” Dan blurts out, confused. 

“Dan,” Phil says, pained. His hands flap through the air, shaky and unsure. It’s so unlike him, Dan thinks, to seem this muddled. “I’m a teacher... you’re a teacher...”

“Actually-”

“Teaching assistant, whatever,” Phil cuts in. He cards a trembling hand through his hair. “The point is... we’re at work right now. Technically, I’m on duty, and so are you. What if there was an emergency? What if the kids needed... anything? I can’t be... we can’t be...” he trails off, cheeks stained with pink. “Do you see what I mean?” 

Dan lets out a sad, frustrated little “no”, but his eyes don’t match it. 

Phil sighs at him, sadly. “Trust me, I hate this as much as you do.” 

“Not possible,” Dan mutters, wondering whether Phil is actually expecting Dan to be able to go to bed right now, what with the searing, bubbling arousal still coursing through his veins. 

Phil steps towards him, hand outstretched, and then he draws it away, seeming to catch ahold of himself just in time. 

“I think I’ll, err...” Phil scratches at his head, whirling round on the spot. His eyes land on his open suitcase, and he goes to it immediately, grabbing his pyjamas. “I’ll just go and, um, change. In the bathroom.” 

He hugs the pyjamas to his chest, carefully side-stepping Dan in order to get to the door. Before he disappears into the hallway, he gives Dan one final, guilty look, coupled with one of something like longing, his lip caught between his teeth. 

The door clicks shut behind him, and Dan slides down the wall at his back, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

Well, he supposes once he’s down there, his jellified legs were going to give out eventually this evening. 

*

“Can you at least sleep with me?” Dan asks, still not sure whether he’ll survive the night; he’s so frustrated he thinks he might splinter into shards at any moment,  

Phil turns to him, eyes wide. “Um...” 

“Just sleep,” Dan clarifies, reddening. “In my bed, with me. Nothing... else.” 

Phil gnaws on his lip, seeming conflicted. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Dan asks, his jaw clenching. 

If he has to stare at Phil across the chasm between their separate beds after this, he thinks he might actually burst into flames. 

“You’re...” Phil sighs and sits down on his bed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Very kissable.”

Dan blushes immediately, a smile catching him off guard as it spreads over his mouth. 

“Is that a problem?”

“Mm,” Phil replies, mouth quirking in an amused smile. “It is when I’m trying to resist you.”

“Why are you doing that, again?” 

“Not sure,” Phil chuckles. “Think it has something to do with being a responsible guardian?”

“Sounds boring.” 

“Totally.” 

There’s a silence then, loaded with their unspoken desires. Phil sighs again, sounding resigned, and he peels back the covers of his own bed, about to climb in. 

Dan can’t allow it. 

“I promise I won’t kiss you,” Dan says, urgent. “I’ll stay right up against the wall, away from you. You won’t even know I’m there.”

Phil looks at him, smirking. “I think I’d remember.”

“Please?” Dan begs, desperate now. 

He can feel his heart straining, urging Phil to say yes. His eyes widen, puppy-like, and he holds Phil’s gaze, willing his resolve to break. 

After a moment, Phil lets out a small grunt of resignation. “Okay.”

Dan can’t quite believe he won, but he doesn’t have time to feel surprised for too long, as the next minute Phil is slipping under his covers. As promised, Dan scoots right over, plastering himself against the far wall, but Phil’s hands wrap around his waist at once, pulling him in, their chests crushed against each other. 

Dan stops breathing. 

Phil’s chest is warm and solid. One of his hands is caught between them, meaning his palm is pressed to the soft cotton of Phil’s t-shirt. His heart thuds beneath Dan’s fingers, steady, but faster than it should be. 

Phil removes his hand from Dan’s waist in order to take off his glasses, and leans away for a moment to put them aside. He turns back, his arm finding its place once again, like it belongs there. 

“Just so you know,” Dan whispers as Phil moves forwards, their noses bumping softly. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get very much sleep.” 

Phil smiles sleepily, his eyelids fluttering as if they’re seconds away from closing. “That’s okay,” he leans in, breaking his word as he closes the distance, for one, fleeting moment, between their lips. “Tu peux partager mes rêves.” 

(Part Nine!)

(Translation of the French can be found here!)

[ask-joeydrewstudios]

Henry’s Unfortunate Ink-antation [Part Two]

[submitted by: @the-elusive-blue-skittle]

Ink steadily flows from a small, two-ounce bottle and onto the wooden floor.

“Now, Henry,” Bendy grabs the new toon’s attention, tossing the empty bottle behind himself. “This! Is an ink pool.”

Henry nods, placing a finger on his chin. “I see that. So what?” “So what,” the little devil mocks. “Watch and learn, fresh meat.” Bendy proceeds to dump another bottle of ink about twenty feet away, on the other side of the room. “Stick yer arm into that puddle.” “What? Why?” “Just do it, Henry.”

Henry follows Bendy’s orders and sticks a gloved hand in the puddle of ink. Nothing happens.

Bendy whispers to the massive wolf standing next to him.  “Uh-oh… He isn’t getting the gag. What are we gonna do?” “Gee, I dunno, Bendy…” Suddenly, a lightbulb appears over Henry’s head. “Oh, I think I get it now,” he exclaims, trying again at sticking his right arm through the ink puddle on the ground. With some effort, he manages to have the other arm pop straight out of the second ink puddle. Henry grins a big, goofy grin, giggling to himself giddily. The ‘toon mindset’ is getting to him again. “This is real neat!” Bendy grins with his creator. “Good! Now try jumping through the whole thing!” “Bendy, I don’t think I can fit..” “That’s crazy talk!”

Boris decides to butt in. “That’s not crazy talk! THIS is crazy talk!“  The wolf proceeds to make a variety of babbling noises, accompanied with raspberry sounds with his tongue. Bendy is provoked to smack his best buddy upside the head to get him to stop. “Do me a favor and shut up, will ya?” “Aw, but why? Look, he’s laughin’!” “… Really?” Bendy looks across the room at Henry, who is covering his mouth and giggling like mad. He never found that stuff funny before! In fact, it’s a rare sight to see Henry smiling at anything at all! He’s usually got a bored, unimpressed expression plastered on his face.

Boris looks so pleased with himself, too.

Henry stares quizzically at the puddle on the floor. “Maybe we should add more ink.. Yeah, that’s gotta be it!” “NOW we’re talkin’,” Bendy exclaims with a mischievous smile, as he runs over to Joey’s desk to retrieve another bottle of ink. “This should do the trick!”

The little devil quickly dumps the contents of the bottle on the floor, making the large puddle even larger. “There we go! Try now, Henry.”

Henry hesitantly dips the tip of his shoe into the puddle, as if testing out the waters before jumping into a swimming pool.

“Gee, fellas, I don’t know about this…” “It’s totally fine,” Bendy confidently states, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll fish ya out if you get stuck!”

“Well, okay,” Henry mutters, wringing his hands nervously while staring at the puddle. “Here goes nothing..”

The new toon plugs his nose and hops in the pool of ink, disappearing from sight.

…

He doesn’t come up for a while. The other boys look at each other with concern, then back at the puddle.

“Should I take a look in there, Boris?” “I dunno, Bendy… Henry’s a pretty capable guy..”

A loud SPLASH sounds from the other side of the room as Henry attempts to pull himself up out of the ink.

“Fellas… A little help here? I’m kinda… Stuck.”

Bendy runs over and takes Henry by the hand, hoisting him up out of the pool of ink. “I gotcha, Henry, don’t worry..”

Henry wipes imaginary sweat from his brow.

“Phew… That was a close one,” the new toon exclaims, flicking an ink drop from his shoulder in a way that shouldn’t be physically possible.

“It’s not too much to worry about, pally. Like I said, if ya get stuck, I’ll always come to help ya.”

Henry smiles at his toony pal. “Hahah… Thanks, Bendy.”

“Now let’s try it some more around the studio,” Bendy cheers, pumping his fists above his head in excitement. “Well, alright, if you say so…” Henry smirks playfully as he follows the other boys to the music department. He’s getting a lot more used to walking with the goofy gait of a real toon.

The trio soon reaches the music department in the basement of the studio, where Sammy is peacefully writing music in his office. Bendy ruffles through his sudden pockets for another vial of ink as Henry looks on at Sammy’s door nervously. What would happen if they all got in trouble? What would Sammy do to them? His teeth begin to chatter as his legs wobble underneath him nervously. Boris gives Henry a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Henry. If Sammy says anything, we can just explain what happened and-”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Boris. So far, the only ones who have seen me like this are you, Bendy, and Joey.. And you KNOW how Sammy laughs at anyone and everyone's misfortune…”

“Aw, you’re afraid of him laughin’ at you? Why, that’s no big deal at all!” “Maybe not to you, but this is just… Really embarrassing to me, you know? Maybe I can just hide until this is all over..” “Aw, nonsense, Henry! Who cares who’s laughin’ at you if you’re having a good time?” “Well, you’ve got a point, there, buddy..” Henry smiles up nervously at the wolf, tugging at his tie to find something to do with his hands. “I guess you’re right..” “I’m ALWAYS right.”

Bendy finishes up pouring ink all over the place with a smile. “Now THIS is what I call a training field!”

…

“HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, FLOODING MY OFFICE LIKE-”

Sammy pauses in the middle of his yelling to snort loudly. Uh-oh. Here it comes.

“HAHAHAH! Henry?! Is that really you down there?”

Henry crosses his arms and pouts, looking in the opposite direction with a ‘red’ face.

“Shut the heck up, Sammy..”

“HAHAHAHAH, HECK…”

Henry slowly begins dribbling ink from his form, small glops of grey ink splattering on the floor as Sammy starts to simmer down from laughing his blackened lungs out. The tiny toon chooses not to say anything, wiping his face with a goopy sleeve.

“My LORD, I haven’t had a laugh like that in ages!”

“Hey, Sammy? News flash. You’re only supposed to laugh if he does something funny. Not something he can't help,” Bendy sneers, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t like it very much if it happened ta you, would'ja?”

“Tch. He’s tough. He can get over it.” “Lookit ‘im! He’s a literal mess over there,” Bendy points back to the new toon, who is now kneeling on the floor with one hand pressed to his face, the other helping him keep balance on the floor. “I suggest ya get back ta work b'fore I tell Joey about this.”

Sammy swallows hard. He NEVER likes when ‘Joey hears about this’. It usually ends in him getting threatened to be fired. Sometimes, he’s even put on Ink Machine duty with Wally, which is even worse. The man blinks a few times, nodding slowly at the devil’s fierce words.

Bendy sticks his tongue out at Sammy before carefully lifting Henry over his head with both arms. Henry jumps a little, struggling, though weakly. He needs to rest, and FAST.

“Bendy,” he croaks. “Put… Put me down…”

Bendy replies, though Henry doesn’t have a chance to listen before he goes unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How long has he been living like this, in a world of black and white? He’s given up on trying to count, being this way for far longer than originally intended. The toon is only allowed to see his beloved wife twice a week, every week of every year. He misses when everything was colorful. He misses when he was tall and handsome and capable, now reduced to a small, little insignificant toon that never gets to see the light of day. He can’t even go out in disguise. Everyone would be far too suspicious.

Henry doesn’t quite fit in with humans, and for all he knows, he never will again. All thanks to that little prank that happened all that time ago. He’ll never quite fit in with toons, either, due to having previously been human, and therefore, taking on a more humanoid form than the rest of his kind.

“Another day, another dollar,” he moans to himself as he climbs multiple stools to punch in for the day. ‘A dollar for what? It’s not like I can buy anything since I’m stuck here…’

The toon hops down from the perch and drags himself over to the desk he’s wasted so much time in, and will continue to waste time in. He picks up the mug of ink sitting on his desk and takes a big, long swig. He’s used to the taste by now. It’s not like he can drink anything else.

Ever since he, himself became a character in Bendy’s cartoons, he’s never looked at life the same way. Now, he’s just a tool. A character model for the guy on the screen.

He longs for normality. For any semblance of a reminder of once being human. Henry puts his head down on his desk and begins to dribble, thinking harder and harder about his situation. He’ll never get to see his family or friends again. He’ll never have kids, or fulfill a happy life. He’s doomed forever to be the property of Mister Joey Drew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henry wakes up with a startled shriek. Gentle hands carefully push him back down on the warm, comfortable bed as an ice pack is placed on the toon’s forehead.

“Hey, it’s okay, Henry… You’re okay…”

“A-Alice..?” Henry rubs his eyes under his glasses and stares up at the cartoon angel. “What happened…”

“You blacked out. Bendy carried you all the way back here. Do you feel any better?” Alice asks with a hint of worry in her voice.

“Am I still melting?” The smaller toon asks, holding his right hand above his face. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, if ordinary meant ‘a gloved hand with four fingers and a strange black outline.’

Henry begins to think about his nightmare, expression softening and contorting to one resembling intense fear and regret, though he doesn’t start to cry like he did last time.

The cartoon angel quickly notices this and wraps her light, comforting arms around Henry, stroking the back of his head with her right hand. “Henry… Please try to stay calm, okay? It took HOURS for you to reform completely.”

“Reform..?”

Henry finds intense comfort in Alice’s cozy embrace, especially with the addition of the hair stroking. It’s like his own little slice of heaven. The new toon hugs the angel back, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck.

“Well, you basically… Puddled,” Alice states bluntly, smiling as she pets Henry’s grey hair. “That shouldn’t happen again as long as you learn to control it. I can teach you how, if you’d like.”

“That’d be great, Alice, but could you… Just hold me a little longer? Pretty please?” “Aw, how could I say 'no’ to that face?”

Henry smiles as Alice remains holding him close. This is nice. Especially after the emotional turmoil he just went through.

part one | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

[leonbastralle]

Flirtyplies & Seriousplies & Other

Soooooooo first of all warning there are some RLY big replies/comments at the bottom (but I sorted it so you don’t have to scroll through that if you didn’t send one of them) Please don’t be mad that I merged all serious comments by one person to save space xD

TL;DR for those who don’t feel like scrolling and stuff, I had a Moment about simblr a few days ago because I used to have a place and I’ve kinda been feeling like I don’t have that any more, but I’m slowly powering back up and I’m really thankful for the support I got that night ♥♥♥ you guys are thE BEST AND MY UNGRATEFUL ASS DOES NOT DESERVE YOU

amixofpixels replied to your post “.”

Annie after midnight, seriously, I may have to terminate our friendship over the end remark...

However, you redeemed yourself.

which end remark, exactly? there’s one before the basic tags and one after the basic tags XD

monets-pixels replied to your photoset “Charlotte: Hey, look! This cloud looks like a cowplant! Conifer: Ohhhh...”

👀 u kno what else can be done in cabins

monets-pixels replied to your photoset “Conifer: Hey, you’re making fun of me! Charlotte: *laughs* Nooooooooo...”

NOW KISS

PATIENCE MY DEAR

monets-pixels replied to your photoset “Charlotte: Yes, sweetie, I did. You’re not all that plain, you know?...”

Smooth Connie,,,, smooth

she Needs To Learn...

monets-pixels replied to your photoset “Charlotte: That must be tough. I can’t judge, I have no...”

Ohohohoho

Connie, the queen of turning every conversation into an awkward direction...

monets-pixels replied to your photoset “Conifer: Anyway, now that you’ve gotten past the big reveal, I feel...”

I MISS HER TOO

SHE WILL BE BACK I HAVE PICS OF HER IN MY FOLDER

monets-pixels replied to your photoset “Charlotte: Ahhhhhhh there is nothing quite like a sunny afternoon...”

Flirty babes 😍

♥

alfalfalegacy replied to your photoset 

A good egg

THE BEST EGG I mean...for now...and she has no evil plans so that’s good

alfalfalegacy replied to your photoset

She's so pure 

well not much longer... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

amixofpixels replied to your photoset “San Maraschino Meadows Tuesday, 2.56 pm”

Following dat booty...

:o I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE THANK YOU FOR POINTING THIS OUT

pixeldemographics replied to your photoset

It kinda looks like..... some creature from spore im crying

ive always just went with tortoise but...now that i take a closer look...probably not but maybe an alien tortoise? anyway i lov this art i put it on a wall now

pixeldemographics replied to your photoset “like a boss”

She could totally kick my ass tbh

But Does She Want To

pixeldemographics replied to your photoset “S: Move over, dad! This is my round! F: You wish! I still have a few...”

Family goals right here :’)

thats the one thing you can always count on in the memeracle rainbowcy

pixeldemographics replied to your photoset “S: It…seems to actually be working. Well, time to destroy this demonic...”

What is going on here?? :o

he invented a clone machine! he had to, it was a task and i wanted to fill that credit bar, but its rly scary so i thought id incorporate that and also confirm that shine is a good man

pixeldemographics replied to your photoset “S: Hey, buddy. What’s wrong? You seem bl…I mean, down today. G: It’s...”

(Im sorry i had to use it)

pixeldemographics replied to your photoset “S: Hey, buddy. What’s wrong? You seem bl…I mean, down today. G: It’s...”

This is so cute i am dying shine protecc the sadgraab

PROTECC ALL THE GRAABS (also dont apologise its a gr8 word and im glad it gets som representation)

pixeldemographics replied to your photoset “Someone is sad today…”

AAAAAAAAAAA

I KNOW

twinsimskeletons replied to your photoset “S: Hey, buddy. What’s wrong? You seem bl…I mean, down today. G: It’s...”

I am Suspicious

I didn’t MAKE him sad I promise xD he showed up like this and I thought I’d roll with it.

amixofpixels replied to your photoset “I’M CRYING”

That face just says 'I get to pee before that son of a bitch' *evil laugh*. Well, to me anyways.

Tbh, all the scientists are evil except Dadgraab, who SHOULD be evil considering his career level is ‘evil scientist’. He’s just really pure and soft and wonderful and me and Shine love him so much

amixofpixels replied to your post “It’s A Giant Reply Post!”

I am never disappointed in you, just a proud little momma of the internet. ;_______;

phew, that’s good, because I sure wouldn’t want that!

treason-and-plot replied to your post “I feel lost”

Carys gave you some wonderful advice. So many ppl love you. And life is so fleeting.

tbh I feel so much joy since you and Carys met we’re family goals I knooooow it’s so easy to say but so hard to believe...like I can’t read people’s minds and my go to belief is just that people really don’t care which is terrible but also...how do you know? You can’t know and I hate not knowing.

bonnypixels replied to your post “I feel lost”

Hugs You <3 everyo feels that sometimes but you cared about and not alone <3

thank you ;_; it’s difficult sometimes and I feel like it helps to just have confirmation in black and white ♥

twinsimskeletons replied to your post “I feel lost”

Sympathetic love: it's human nature to feel lost a lot I think, because we're so good at comparing ourselves to others and assuming what we see is what they feel, and there are going to be so many simmers who look at you and your comments and inside jokes and feel as you do. tough love: life is short and then you die. Seriously, it's easy to be bogged down by all this little stuff but at the end of the day what really matters? You're letting this get in the way of enjoying yourself and at the end of the day no matter what you are always going to feel like this unless you change the attitude - change has to come from within so while the nice words from us will help for a little while, they won't fix things. Only you can do that, love. Now read whichever one you need to hear the most because they are both true and valid just as your feelings are.

first of all: stop being so damn wise (but also don’t because I need my agony aunt forever) and second of all thank you for making me smile ♥ I try man, I really try, but sometimes you just gotta let it out I guess. I can’t believe I haven’t done a whiny post in months! (I mean I probably have but can’t remember) ANYWAY even tho I already said it, I rly rly rly rly appreciate this and how much time you took and amhsfbajhmsfbajfas thank you

riseofthecowplant replied to your post “I feel lost”

I'm not sure if this would make you feel any better, but you're not the only one. I've been feeling super estranged from Tumblr for a couple of months and therefore I do not have the courage to interact with anyone really, while that is actually something that would help the situation... I don't know. I sometimes have the feeling that my time on simblr is over? (not on tumblr though LMAO) but then I see people posting amazing stuff (of which you're one!!) and i just ??? TLDR; I love you and your blog and you'll always be one of my favs ;)))))))))) No but seriously, if you ever feel like ranting about tumblr/simblr, feel free to bombard my inbox :)

I HAD NO IDEA ;_; you’re like...so huge and such a role model and I cry at your stuff and I’m just like...pls notice me...and it rly didn’t feel that way so I’m sorry :( I don’t feel like my time is over? But I definitely feel like I’ve peaked years ago and that kinda sucks because I’ve never liked my own stuff more than I do now XD I’d cry if you left tho ;_;

AND PLEASE YOUR STUFF IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN MINE PLEASE SHUT UP (but yes I might actually take you up on that offer)

amixofpixels replied to your post “I feel lost”

ANNIE, I'M SO SORRY YOU FEEL THIS WAY!!! If you ever need a hug, virtual or really, just let me know, and I'll be there. The real might take a little time, as you know different countries and all that but you know. I'm just going to try and make you laugh, if I do it just once, I'm happy. I'd tell you jokes but I'm not very good at those, but I can tell you a short little story about a sims 3 family I made up. I think it's funny but you might not. I'm going to stop replying now, as it's getting too much, even for me. I just love you okay!!! And want you laugh and be happy!

aaaaaaaAAAAAAAA CHELSEA you held it down these last few days and it was so cute thank you ;_; I actually appreciate not hearing jokes in serious times, but I really need you to tell me this story today, and I also need you to please love my lines thank you.