#but the handwriting one is pretty cannon to me

[lukochi]

Love letter 💌

And a lil fun comic :)

[saturngas]

lover boy

[🪐] satoru didn't believe in love at first sight, but it changed when he met you.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: teen!gojo; pining!gojo x pining!reader; two teens in love; this is sooo cheesy; a tiny bit of angst; confort; canon au; I hope I wrote teen gojo well this is lame

word count: 3.3k

...

satoru gojo did not believe in love at first sight. love requires time and devotion, and just seeing someone can't determine your definite feelings for them. he claimed people often mistook love for admiration, physical attraction, or even arousal. his beliefs were firm and inflexible.

so when the first year students got introduced to the new second year class, he felt a bit... provoked.

the moment director yaga announced the new class was coming on thursday, satoru persuaded his two classmates, suguru and shoko, to welcome them warmly. satoru was kind at heart, but sometimes his loud and egocentric personality caught in the way.

he and suguru had prepared a few decorations around the classroom, while shoko got the party hats.

"suguru can you write a big 'welcome' on the board?" satoru asked as he stuck balloons onto the wall.

"what? do it yourself."

"no! you know I can't do it. nobody understands my handwriting."

"well satoru, you need to work on that. it is pretty awful."

"h-hey!"

before satoru could launch at suguru, the door swiped open, director yaga coming right after.

"w-what? who let you do this delinquency on the classroom?" the older man questioned annoyed. he never approved of some party for the new class, he just expected the second years to introduce themselves.

"it was satoru's idea," the black haired guy said quickly.

"what!" a gasp left his lips as his blue eyes shouted betrayal behind his round glasses. "and yet you are here helping me," he squinted his eyes accusingly at suguru.

"it doesn't matter. they will be here in less than thirty minutes," yaga sighed. "and where is shoko?"

just as he finished his sentence, the brown hair girl entered the classroom, a nonchalant facade adorning her. she was holding the three party hats along with snacks and beverages, a single maybe illegal one snuck between them.

kento nanami and yu haibara complemented each other so well. you had known them for just four days, but you were already growing a bit of affection towards your new classmates. nanami was a quiet and private guy while haibara leaned more into the extrovert side, but not being annoying at all.

when the three of you were called into the classroom where you would meet your seniors, a bit of nervous sweat adorned your forehead as you stood behind the shut door. you have heard some tremendous things about the second year students. there was a guy who literally swallowed curses and used them as pokemon, a girl who was incredibly good at reversed cursed technique, and the beholder of the legendary six eyes and limitless. you didn't know who was who though.

"are you guys excited? oh my! I can't wait to be a great sorcerer!" haibara said excitedly and it actually made you less nervous, there was someone in the school who seemed sensitive.

"yeah. it's going to be a long way," you said just so say something, as you couldn't think of an answer to his enthusiasm, when the door slid open to reveal the classroom inside.

a loud plopping sound startled the three of you, confetti cannon firing hundreds of small colored papers in your direction.

"welcome!" a white haired boy with some ridiculous round glasses shouted as he held the confetti cannon. his yawp followed by a couple of seconds of silence as you recovered from the disorientation the loud cannon caused.

"hah, thank you. that was funny." you said with a soft smile. you had to demonstrate gratitude to your seniors, right? even if it's something as random as this. maybe you were overthinking your interactions with your seniors, but you wanted to make a good first impression.

"thank you! im so glad to be here!" haibara said innocently with a big grin. nanami just looked around the room to try and cover his crippling embarrassment.

satoru gojo didn't believe in love at first sight. but when you told him he was funny? maybe the burning sensation of his cheeks claimed otherwise.

okay, you didn't say he was funny, but the confetti cannon was his idea, so you think he is funny, right?

the rest of the welcoming was spent with required introductions from both the new class and the second years. satoru was certainly curious about the three of you, he wanted to know if this generation was strong. sorcerers needed to be strong, he believed. however he couldn't help but stare you.

you were indeed a sight for sore eyes. your hair danced gracefully around your neck, your skin seemed so smooth, your posture screamed confidence, and you eyes were ones to get lost in.

but that was only admiration, right? satoru had seen dozens of pretty girls before. but the big smile crippling up his face couldn't hide itself when you introduced yourself.

your seniors were very... particular, especially the white haired boy with a creepy smile looking directly at you. his eyes were covered by his shades, but you could swear he hadn't blinked in at least the forty seconds that took you to present yourself.

"im glad there is another girl in this school," shoko shared with a relived tone, her brown eyes analyzing the three of you. "it gets a bit... difficult sometimes with so much testosterone here," she said casually while looking at his two male partners.

suguru shot her a displeased glare while satoru... kept staring at you with the biggest grin. suguru could see his blue eyes from the side being as wide as plates. he wanted to slap him from being such a creep.

satoru didn't believe in love at first sight. he was certain what he felt when he saw you using your cursed technique was pure amazement. he valued strength even over people's morals.

the raw power coming from your cursed energy made him feel almost as euphoric as when he discovered his cursed technique reversal, red.

the way your hand-in-hand combat skills made his opinion on you even more complex. was he a creep for peeping your sparring sessions with haibara and nanami?

satoru swore he just admired your hardworking skills, and maybe your cursed energy was somehow attractive to him, and maybe maybe he liked watching you because he thought you were pretty.

but why hadn't he approached you yet? his natural flirtatious charisma would have acted right the moment he said welcome to you. even as far as showing you his bright blue eyes while striking poses in front of you, showing you every single well-carved angle of his body.

yet he had been respectful to your persona. when he was told there would be another girl in jujutsu high, he thought nothing of it, guessing it would be "another shoko," just another female friend of his.

however, you had unconsciously awed satoru: with your beauty, your strength, and you even thought he was funny!

uh oh, maybe you were different. maybe he liked liked you.

"did you know that in quantum mechanics, particles such as electrons can behave both as particles and waves?" satoru said with an easy going smirk as he approached you during your lunch break.

"oh, hi gojo," you smiled naturally, making the dimples on satoru's cheeks deepen. "yeah I have read something about that in quantum physics books. something about the Schrödinger equation, right?"

oh man. satoru knew he was lost. his lanky body launched itself to your side on the bench. you were outside in the training grounds. you took a bite of your rice ball.

"oh wow," he chuckled a bit nervous. "didn't know you were a physics girl."

"not exactly," you responded muffled as you swallowed the food in your mouth. "but I figured I needed to know the basics to understand my cursed techniques."

you were just made for him. satoru esteemed your physical strength and your smart head. were you also a geek like him?

"your cursed technique involves a lot of physics, right gojo?" your words brought him back to reality. "I would appreciate if some time you show me how it works. I guess im a bit nerdy, haha." you laughed a bit embarrassed. was it okay to be this straightforward with your senior? yeah right? they were there to help their juniors after all.

"of course!" he responded loudly with a big grin. it caught you off-guard you almost tossed him your chopsticks.

you would have thought satoru would show you his technique in the training grounds, or even out in a mission. not in a bakery shop.

before one of you classes started, there was a blue sticky note on your table.

"meet me at the bakery shop in front of the park tomorrow at 3pm to show you my technique, -S.G." there was a little drawing of a cat with round glasses at the right lower corner.

satoru had bribed the naive haibara to tell him where you would usually sit and if you had any missions the next day. the junior was so happy his senior was directing a word to him, if only he knew satoru talked to him to get closer to you. poor guy.

what the white haired guy didn't tell you—didn't want you to know—was that he planned it as a date. was it considered a date when only one of them was aware of it?

satoru didn't care.

he stood straighter the moment his blue gaze fell on your figure entering the bakery shop. oh how good you looked in the jujutsu uniform. the skirt fitted you so well.

"hey!" he shouted your name while raising his entire arm to get your attention. it even gathered the attention of the others clients. you chuckled slightly at him, finding it cute that he was so careless about what others think of him.

"hello gojo," your soft voice was like honeyed melody to his hungry ears. he liked hearing his name coming from your throat.

"suit yourself with something sweet," satoru passed you the small menu looking directly at you eyes as you sat in front of him. you hadn't seen his blue eyes yet, but you could feel his deep stare.

"thank you," you murmured. "umm... gojo? I thought you were gonna show me you technique."

"do you really wanna talk about it? I mean we see sorcery-related stuff all the time, we should take a break," he suggested with a smirk. "why dont you tell me more about yourself? I wanna know more things about you."

and that's what you two did for the next couple of hours. satoru found solace talking to you, an easy person to talk to. it wasn't just the addictive sound of your voice, your answers to his questions and the funny remarks you would sometimes add made him all giddy.

he enjoyed listening to you speak, but he felt a tug at his chest and a burning sensation on his pale face when you asked him about him. you wanted to know about his innate technique and his cursed energy, of course, but satoru gojo was more than just him being a sorcerer. and you could see that. perhaps it was part of your nature to see beyond people´s facade, dip into their true feelings and just observe them.

you noticed the way his eyes cracked open when you asked him about his music taste, his long white eyelashes picking up from his round glasses.

satoru was very complex. he was funny, however his jokes were sometimes a bit off. his humor could be a bit... ahead of his time. he tried putting up an unbreakable, solid self-centered demeanor, but he was kind and sweet at heart, in his own and weird way. it was true that he wanted to have a regular date with you, to get to know you—which he was accomplishing—but it was just as true that he wanted to get his mind off of jujutsu. for a moment at least. he didn't need constant reminder he was supposed to be the savior of the world.

the "date" went smoothly. each got to know more about the other. satoru was convinced he will make you his, while you started seeing beyond the strongest, meeting the compounded and sweet person he was.

it was girl's night. one of the girls dorm was full of the only females in jujutsu high—you, shoko, and utahime.

utahime was like your super senior, she was already a graduate and sorcerer. she was nice and honest. you could notice shoko had a deeper bond with her than with her two male friends.

"shokoo," utahime sang to her junior, squinting her eyes. "ive noticed the way that guy haibara looks at you~."

"haha, nonsense," the short haired girl chuckled unconcerned. "im pretty sure he just looks up at me. he is the same with the two idiots."

"yeah, he admires you all," you said after taking a sip of your nonalcoholic beverage. "haibara just wants to be a great sorcerer to help people so he wants to learn from all of you." you yawned. it was almost midnight and even though you were still young and healthy, getting up at 6am was challenging after a sleepless night.

"well he certainly won't learn anything if he follows in the footsteps of gojo," utahime shrugged while rolling her eyes. she needed to get it off her chest after the constant disrespect the junior gave her.

shoko laughed as you did as well, just a bit nervously. "why you say that, utahime-senpai?" your sleepiness vanished completely.

"well!" she has prepared her whole life for this moment. "he is careless and bluntly disrespectful! to everyone—especially to his seniors!" utahime said with an elevated fist in front of her face, she was getting a bit agitated from the alcohol running through her system. "I dont care he is the strongest, gojo doesn't even care for the people around him. he just cares for himself and getting stronger alongside geto."

the girl with ponytails was speaking with her heart. though her words made you question satoru's morals. he was sweet with you the other day, and he always greeted you during mornings. it was clear he wasn't the most down-to-earth person, but you wouldn't agree he didn't care for others.

that night you went to bed a bit anxious, tossing around the blankets thinking about the white haired boy.

"y/n~ why do you keep training with those two?" satoru whined loudly as he ploped himself down next to you. too next to you. you chuckled softly at his dramatics.

the two were sitting under a tree, its autumn-orange leafs falling at the rhythm of the slightly chilly air. it was mid october and the climate was full of cinnamon and earthy odors with vibrant shades of yellow and orange.

utahime's opinion on satoru didn't discourage you from meeting the sunshine boy, but it was definitely interesting to know how his classmates viewed him. you decided to form your own verdict on satoru by yourself.

and you couldn't deny the feeling of an accelerated heartbeat whenever the tall boy would rush to you to start a conversation. you had stopped laughing politely and started giggling like an enamored girl whenever he would say something remotely funny.

it was undeniable satoru was both handsome and pretty. his boyish features, his striking baby blue eyes that mirrored the skies, his ruffled snow white hair, his very tall and lean figure was too much to take in. the more you would meet him, the more you would grow fond of him. he was a sight for sore eyes. and all the while, his personality was eventually getting into you.

"what do you mean, gojo?" you giggled when his clothed thigh brushed yours. "they are my fellow classmates and they are my friends."

"well, im just saying if you train with me, you'll get stronger faster," he suggested while leaning back with his hands behind his head. he wanted to appear cool and smooth.

"oh, please, every time you say we'll train, we end up in a different bistro!" you exclaimed with a hearty smile while looking at him. his cool facade disintegrated once he caught a glimpse of your eyes.

"th-then, thanks to me you know all the great small restaurants around here!" satoru said flustered. you chuckled while leaning back as well, and just slightly, almost nothing, satoru felt the ghosty touch of your shoulder on his side.

"haha, whatever you say, satoru," the taller man looked at you impressed, a rosy shade decorating your cheeks. the moment suddenly imbued to his consciousness. he was glad you two were over the last name barrier.

his dimples deepened as he tilted his body toward you.

satoru didn't believe in love at first sight. he tried convincing his own self that it took him time to be this smitten by you, that it wasn't love at first sight.

when he told suguru about you, the dark haired boy looked at him with a stoic stare with a raised brow. only a brainless person wouldn't have noticed, he had said, with the way satoru was being all over you recently, harassing your personal space when clinging to you and being annoyingly whiny whenever you had to be anywhere else away from him.

suguru did confirm, though, that you didn't mind any of satoru's loud antics, and once he told satoru his thoughts, the squeal the white haired boy left was to bully him forever. suguru decided to let him drown in his own delusions and he'd tease him later.

after the incident with the star plasma vessel, you noticed a subtle change in satoru.

you weren't in jujutsu high when they returned, however you knew there was something off the moment satoru stopped spamming you with text messages.

your flip phone buzzed the whole three days the mission lasted, with messages full of emoticons.

the star plasma vessel is just a loud youngster with no friends! ( ˘︹˘ ) ohh it reminds me of someone~ hahah y/n stappp (╥︣﹏᷅╥) (ง︡'-'︠)ง

we're at the beach! (✿◠‿◠) :D saw a little sea snail n it reminded me of you~ <33 ah satoru have a fun time!! why did it reminded you of me? *u* bc of that back hump bby you gotta work on that (´_ゝ`) enough

however, during the last day his message rate decreased, to the point that by afternoon, you hadn't received a single text from him for hours. you would have thought he was involved in an intense battle, though he would still text you while doing that.

so it was a bit bittersweet to get a solid text almost at night.

suguru and I made it back to the school, hope you're doing ok on your mission:)

you never questioned him what had happened during those three days, but you were certain it had changed him. it was evident when the day you announced you were back at the school, satoru sprinted to check on you. his hands roaming through your face and arms, looking for any cuts or wounds, while murmuring "are you okay" repeatedly under his breath.

you also noticed this new ambition of his of becoming stronger, asking you to randomly throw objects at him to test his limitless, which he now kept it automatically, isolating himself from the rest of the world.

still, you could see through him. you wouldn't insist on him telling you about what happened, but you weren't going to allow him to sulk and seclude himself from you, being by his side and opening your heart to him.

it had took him a week and a half after the star plasma vessel mission for him to go back to his silly self. such assignment left a bitter scar on his heart and soul, one that wasn't your job to heal, but satoru treasured you for it. he needed frequent assurance you were there with him and that you cared for him.

he also realized he was wasting time playing games with you. he was ready to be yours just as you were ready to be his.

and even though satoru gojo didn't believe in love at first sight, he did believe in deep, devoted love. he didn't know he would be as lucky to endure it, but with you, he was prepared to give you his all. even if he keeps lying to himself he didn't fall for you when you laughed at his confetti cannon.

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks <3 guys I really wanna make a pt 2 of this I think I can do much better

[54625]

If you hate seeing meaningless AI "art" everywhere then I humbly offer you read through this massive list of all of the symbolism I poured into a MCYT AU fanart that took me 70+ hours to make and is still the most beautiful thing I've ever made and maybe it will restore your faith a little

Image 1

In the first photo, they are all very close together and they are evenly spaced; to represent not only their closeness at the time, but also how there is no imbalance present in the dynamic yet.

However, even in this first image, their future is foreshadowed. Both of Fit's hands are visible - one above Tubbo and one above Pac - however he is only touching Pac, not Tubbo. Neither of Tubbo's hands are visible and his left shoulder is slightly raised, implying that he is lifting/adjusting the heavy camera - quite literally carrying all the weight, doing the heavy lifting, holding them up.

Also:

• Pac has a plaster on his cheek where his cubito had a scar.

• Fit has both his hands, obviously, but bites the nails on the left hand (the same one he will be missing in the future).

• The date written on the polaroid is a reference to the 3 out of 3 morning crew joke. Literally 3/3.

• Tubbo is on the far left side of the image. Not the centre.

Image 2

Not only are they stealing a coffee machine from the teacher's lounge, the fact that you are seeing this (diegetic) recording from a camera to begin with implies they also stole the tapes that caught them doing it.

They are still fairly evenly spaced, even if Tubbo is the tiniest bit behind, and Pac is almost tripping on Fit's shoe. However, Pac throws an enthusiastic glance back at Tubbo, clearly including and appreciating him. Tubbo has his eyes closed, and wouldn't have noticed.

Also:

• This is the last image we see without Fit's arm in a cast, implying he fell and broke his arm during this heist.

• The leg Pac will lose later in life is slightly scratched up.

• Fit is carrying the coffee machine, but Pac is holding on to the lead. This creates a direct line connecting them that Tubbo is not part of.

• Tubbo is on the far left side of the image. Not the centre.

Image 3

While they are setting up their headquarters, it's pretty clear Tubbo is doing most of the work. He has a work belt full of tools around his waist, and a tent peg in his hand. Pac is helping, pulling up the tyre swing, while Fit helps the least.

While Fit and Pac stand in the full sun, Tubbo is in the shade under the tent.

Hard to make out against the background of the bushes, all three of them have a butterfly near their heads. Above and to the left of Tubbo, a bright yellow butterfly with orange patterning that almost looks like sunglasses. To the right of Pac, a cool yellow butterfly with a green patterning that almost looks like a tick logo on a sports shirt. Above Fit, a white butterfly with a black mark that almost looks like a moustache.

On the tyre, they have all written their own names themselves. Fit's handwriting is straight and rough, in all capitals. Pac's handwriting is curved and italicised, in all lowercase. Tubbo's handwriting is round, in an inconsistent case. If you look at the sign that reads "Morning Crew HQ", you'll see that the writing is round, and in an inconsistent case. Tubbo made the sign all by himself.

Also:

• Fit's left arm is now in a grey cast, to mimic the prosthetic he will one day have.

• On top of the mini fridge is the coffee machine they stole. They were, in fact, able to cover their tracks well enough to keep it.

• In the fridge are cucurucho cookies and a cup of purgatory tea.

• There is a bottle of happy pills hiding in the grass.

• On the shelf there is a golden carrot (potato cannon ammo), as well as goggles and sunglasses.

• Pac has another, different plaster in the place of the scar on his face. His leg is still grazed badly, and on his knee he has one blue and one green plaster (Pac e Mike wow wow).

• Fit is wearing those military inspired cargo shorts, in army green. Which could mean anything.

• Even in the little stick-man drawings of themselves on the tyre, Tubbo is still sidelined, off to the left. He is also drawn smaller (less significant) than the other two.

• Tubbo is on the far left side of the image. Never the centre.

Image 4

(Image 4 is probably my favourite individual piece of all of these. Something about the mottled light on their skin coming through the trees, the subject matter and the colour choice I find really cosy and nostalgic.)

It is evening, and they are having a stick fight. Right at the bottom of the image between the grass, you can see a thin sliver of a slab/step, the same ones as in the previous image as they both take place at the HQ. Pac has his back against the same tree that the tent is on.

The date is November 9th, the same day that Tubbo (and Bad, but he's not relevant right now) fought and killed Fit in purgatory while Pac watched. This is a reference to that.

This is the last of the video tapes, and it is paused. Whoever's eyes you are looking through, whoever was watching these videos back, has stopped, and put them down.

Also:

• Fit's stick is shaped like a trident.

• Fit has a green cardigan tied around his neck, as a reference to his cubito's cape.

• Tubbo is on the far left side of the image, sidelined, never in the centre.

Image 5

While sitting and eating together, Tubbo is talking away to Fit and Pac, the former of which being too distracted to pay attention.

It is the first time a split really becomes visually obvious between the three. Between Fit and Pac there is zero negative space; within the image itself, they are overlapping. However, there is a large amount of negative space between Tubbo and Fit. Fit and Pac sit as a unit, Tubbo as an outsider.

Pac, despite being on the other side of the image, is engaging with Tubbo. Fit, however, is only looking at Pac, ignoring the other one, and his cheeks are ever so slightly flushed.

While Tubbo still has a lot of his baby fat, the other two's faces are slightly slimmer than they were in that first photo, and Fit is visibly lankier than he has been. This is symbolism/ foreshadowing for the other two growing up faster than Tubbo, and Tubbo lagging behind, but it's also literal. They're getting older.

Also:

• Pac's leg is yet again, still grazed, and this time his foot is in an ankle strap. (Some children are just very accident prone I guess, lmao). He also still has his cheek plaster, and his Pac e Mike wow wow plasters.

• The polaroid is marked with the date 4.1, the date of the confession. Which could mean anything.

• This particular photo is in worse condition than the first, implying present Tubbo (who owns all of these) has taken a lot more care in protecting that one than this one.

• Tubbo, left, sidelined, never central.

Image 6

(Image 6 is a very close second favourite. I am very proud of the marbled sky and I think you can really feel the wind in this one.)

The last photo from their childhood. The polaroid is marked with 26.7, the day after the first date, and the writing reads "a change in the winds".

Pac wheels a bike that has never shown up before, and it is in the same bright red as the roses in the basket. The bike is a physical representation of him and Fit quite literally "carrying something new" with them, something the colour of a rose. In case that metaphor is lost on anyone, it's a crush. You can see it in how flushed both their cheeks are. (And they will carry it until they are much older, and only then will it become something official, cause even AU hideduo is the slowest of slowburns).

Also:

• In previous photos, Pac would be the one including Tubbo, helping him, and paying attention to him. But now, even Pac is turned completely away from Tubbo, not even looking in his direction, preferring to look at Fit.

• Not only is Tubbo far away from the other two within the context of the image, but he also takes up a very tiny portion of the photo itself.

• Tubbo is waving, calling, but no one is responding.

• Tubbo was always on the left, always sidelined. He was never in the centre. Never the centre of attention. Never centred by his friends.

Image 7

A harsh pull back to the present. All of the colour is gone. All of the fun and non-literal shapes are gone.

You are seeing through Tubbo's eyes. You have been this whole time. He paused the video. Each photo and video you just saw was him looking back on those memories, after receiving the invitation got him reminiscing again. After looking back on it all, he pins the invitation, an invitation to Fit and Pac's wedding, onto the corkboard.

The memory board is old. It was made and put up when they were still kids. You can tell by the very old, worn writing at the top of the board, reading "morning crew 4ever!", in Tubbo's old, round, case inconsistent handwriting.

The three polaroids we just saw are up there, as well as an old drawing of their plans for the HQ, drawn/written by Pac. However, one of the slightly newer (still several years old) additions is a letter from Fit to Tubbo. The letter starts off friendly and kind, before in the mid section, a large portion of the writing is crossed out. Looking closely, you can see that that section is crossed out because the letter begins explaining that Fit and Pac started dating. Tubbo had received the letter, removed the parts that he didn't like (that made him feel left out), so he could pin a letter from Fit saying a bunch of nice things to his wall. He desperately wants a return to the old days. He has been left behind in the past, wishing for glory days that won't come back, and his friends have raced off into the future without him. By censoring half of the letter, he can delude himself into thinking nothing ever changed.

However, him pinning the wedding invitation onto the morning crew board symbolises him partially accepting defeat. He can't pretend this isn't happening anymore. Their relationship is part of morning crew whether he likes it or not.

Also:

• Tubbo has very clearly been picking at his nails, a sign of anxiety.

• The writing on the invitation that reads "Dear Tubbo" is in the same blue ink as the crossed-out portion of Fit's letter. It wasn't originally written by the couple. Tubbo wrote it there himself, to make it feel more personal.

• The wedding is on August 25th, the day of the first date.

• The way Tubbo is pinning the invitation to the board, he is covering up a lot of what is already up there. This represents how he feels about Fit and Pac's relationship; like it is stomping on and cancelling out their childhood, and covering up/ruining the way things used to be.

• On the wedding invitation, the names "Tubbo", "Fit" and "Pac" all form a line, top to bottom. Just like that first photo. However, Tubbo's name is still at one edge, not in the middle, and is leaning ever so slightly to the left.

Image 8

So after pinning the invitation up, he goes for a walk.

He goes back to where their HQ used to be. It seems so different now. Everything is so dead. A tiny scrap of the sign hangs on, held in place by one remaining screw. (The sign that read "morning crew HQ" being almost completely missing is a very obvious metaphor for morning crew being dead). The mini fridge is barely visible in the back, turned over, long since claimed by the grass. A tiny scrap of the rope that once held up their tyre swing now sways in the breeze.

This whole time we have been seeing everything from Tubbo's perspective. We've been seeing through his eyes as he looks back on all of his tangible memories. But this is the first zoom out. This is the first non-diegetic image here.

It's just him. His hair has darkened now, no longer his childhood blonde. His clothes almost completely obscure him. He hugs himself. He's cold.

It's just so different now.

I hope you enjoyed reading, I greatly appreciate you if you did, I hope you found it at least a little interesting :) I put so much thought into all of this way back when

[thatgayb1tchwhosimps4her]

Request: Drunk Sam Carpenter that gets all soppy over her girlfriend and how pretty she is.

Whether it be head-cannons or a one shot, it's up to you, but I would love if you included some Spanish in it considering her and Tara are supposedly Latina's.

I loved how you wrote for Quinn so I know it'll be good.

Thank you so much for your kind words, I would love to write for Sam, and I'm so glad somebody else picked up on the possibility of her and Tara being Latina and I am so excited to share this fic.

Reader is mentioned to have blue eyes and be an animator. But feel free to change it in your minds however you want.

Also disclaimer, I used google translate for the translations so sorry if they're wrong.

*****

Never Too Drunk To Know I Love You

Sam Carpenter x Female Reader

Word Count: 2641.

*****

Both of you had decided against going to the Halloween party with the rest of the group, especially since Ghostface had come back, and you and some of the others had spent the last few weeks persuading Sam that Tara didn't need her older sister being her bodyguard all the time and didn't want to waste it by going with them.

Fortunately for Tara, Sam had a session with her counsellor and you needed to catch up on work for the project you were working on.

Although, somewhere through working on a new character, you had the inspired idea of having a date night with Sam once she came back from her session. Which she agreed would do you both some good since you never really got any alone time unless Sam went to yours (which was a rare occurrence since you basically lived with Sam and the others).

So you two pondered on what to do for a little while, until you decided on watching a movie. However, the two of you had ended up making out with Avengers Endgame playing in the background, neither of you really caring, since you were lucky if you were able to kiss with people around without Tara fake gagging in the background.

Which is how you'd ended up waking up in Sam's bed as you usually do, but instead of her waking you up by planting kisses all over your face to make sure she saw you before she went to work, you were woken up by the sound of your phone ringing. Once you'd sat up to pick up your phone, you noticed a note under it with Sam's handwriting on it, deciding to pick it up and read it.

'Gone to pick up some of the guys from the party.

Be back soon. Love you -Sam xxx'

"Hello?" You said, answering the call as you finished reading the note.

"Y/N, hey it's Tara. We need you to come pick us up." She asked on the other end of the phone.

"Wasn't Sam picking you up?" You questioned, thinking of what could've happened.

"Yeah she was, but now she's puking her guts up outside and I don't know," Tara said.

"Well is she okay? What happened?" You asked, slightly panicked, before putting your phone on speaker and placing it on the bed as you got up to but some trousers and socks on.

"I think so. She was late coming to get us, so I was gonna go hook up with this guy that was flirting with me, even though Mindy and Quinn and that said he was an asshole, then I don't know. I think I fell, and Chad punched the guy, then Sam appeared from nowhere and they were arguing, she tasered him, and then we all went outside. Me and her started arguing, then she was all like, 'you know what? if you want to go get shitfaced and hook up with a douchebag then be my guest' and then she just keeled over and started vomiting everywhere." She stated.

"Okay, we'll talk about it later. How late was she?" You said, zipping up the zipper on your trousers, before starting to make your way around the apartment to find your keys, shoes and jacket.

"I don't remember exactly, I mean most of tonight has been a blur of lights and alcohol and shouting. We were all chilling out on the couch and got bored so I texted her to come get us, and she replied saying that she's on her way, then I didn't see her for like half hour or so until she appeared out of nowhere." She answered.

"Okay, I'm on my way now. I'll be with you in like 10/15 minutes. Is everyone else okay and accounted for?" You asked, slipping your shoes on.

"Uh, yeah, Mindy and Anika went home about 10 minutes ago. But apart from them Ethan and Chad are trying to help Sam, Quinn's got her dad on standby and I'm calling you" She said.

"Okay, are you all good? You said earlier you fell." You reproached, chucking your jacket on and putting your keys in your pocket.

"I think so, I mean my head hurts and I kinda sick, but that could just be early onset hangover or from the music. Apart from that just scared." Tara said, trying to laugh it off.

"Okay, don't be scared I'm literally on my way now, I'll bring a bowl for you and Sam, and I'll check you both out when I get there." You stated, turning the all lights off except the hall one.

"Okay, that's a little reassuring." She stated.

"Okay, I'm coming now," You said, locking the front door, "Be there in 10." You added.

"Okay, see you then," Tara answered, "Bye."

"Bye." You said.

-----

While driving to go get them you kept trying to call Sam, her phone going to voicemail each time.

"Come on baby, pick up your phone." You mumbled to yourself, pressing the call button on her contact.

"Hey it's Sam, sorry I can't get to the phone, right now. If you're family, a friend, or my girlfriend, let me know what you wanna tell me; and if not, feel free to leave your name and number after the beep, and I'll see what I can do for you, bye. BEEP."

"Son of a bitch, come on. Sam" You swore to yourself, running your fingers through your hair as you stopped at a red light.

Her phones probably dead, you thought to yourself and the light turned green again and you continued driving.

About 5 minutes later, you arrived outside the frat house where the party was taking place, to see a group of 3/4 girls shouting at Sam and the others.

"HEY! YEAH, YOU MOTHER FUCKERS, HOW ABOUT YOU LEAVE MY GIRL AND HER FRIENDS ALONE BEFORE I BEAT YOUR SKINNY ASSES!" You shouted at them, as you got out the car, and they retreated down one of the many busy streets of New York. "YEAH, YOU BETTER RUN, BEFORE A REVITALISE YOUR FACES!" You added, before turning around to the group.

"Everyone okay?" You asked, walking over to Quinn and Ethan who were sat next to Tara on the steps of the house, handing her a bowl and rubbing her back a bit, before walking back over to Sam, who was leaned against the wall outside, and crouching next to her and Chad.

"Yeah we're all good, just some assholes trying to start shit with Sam." Tara answered.

"You should've been here a few minutes ago," Ethan stated, "The blonde one chucked a drink over Sam, Chad and Quinn were about to beat the shit out of them." He added.

"Not exactly beat the shit out of them on my part, but I was gonna speak some very choice words to them." Quinn stated.

"Well that explains why she reeks of booze, but thank you," You said. "Both of you." You added, turning to Chad.

"Right here's what's gonna happen," You spoke, "Chad, I need you to go to the trunk and pull one of the seats in the back up for Ethan, since he's the smallest., then help him into the back and get yourself in the middle seat to help me with Tara."

"Yes ma'am." Chad replied as Ethan followed, before you threw the car keys at him.

"Quinn, I need you to stay with Sam and make sure she's okay while I sort Tara out." You said.

"Got it." She answered, walking toward the two of you.

"I'll be right back." You stated to Sam.

"Y'shouldn't say that." Sam slurred, pointing at you.

"Yeah, I know, I'll be careful. Promise." You replied, blowing a kiss to her before walking over to Tara.

"How you feeling?" You asked her.

"Like shit." She answered, slurring a little bit.

"Yeah, that's to be expected," You said. "Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" You questioned, putting up 8 fingers.

"Mhmmmm, 8." She answered.

"Good, how about now." You said, putting up 3.

"Oh, easy; 3." She stated. "Man I wish my college tests were this simple."

"Okay, one more; how many now?" You asked, putting up 2 fingers on each hand."

"4, 2 on each hand." Tara answered.

"Good job, you'll be fine. But make sure you drink lots of water when we get back and have some pain killers." You stated.

"Okay." She replied.

"Can you get up?" You asked.

"Yep," She said, standing up with ease, stumbling slightly.

"Okay, be careful," You replied, putting your right arm under hers, "Let's get you in the car." You added, leading her around the back of the car and opening the door, getting her strapped in on the left side of Chad, before shutting the door and walking back over to Sam.

"How are we getting on?" You questioned.

"Allllll gooddddd." Sam slurred, putting her thumbs up.

"She's fine," Quinn stated, "I mean she's stopped throwing up as much." The red head added.

"Okay," You replied, "Let's get you in the car." You said to Sam.

"Mkayy." Sam answered.

"C'mon then you." You said, slipping your arm around her, getting her to stand up, "Can you get the door for me?" You asked Quinn.

"Yeah got it." She said, walking over to open the car door facing the pavement.

"Alguna vez te he dicho lo hermosos que son tus ojos?" (Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?) Sam stated in Spanish.

"Babe, I love you, I have no idea what you're saying." You replied to her.

"Tus ojos me recuerdan al océano, y son más hermosas que cualquier cosa que haya visto." (Your eyes remind me of the ocean, and are more beautiful than anything I've seen.) Sam added.

"Seriously Sam, I have no idea what the fuck you're saying." You laughed off.

"I fucking love you, you little shit." Sam slurred.

"That I understood. Come on, let's get you in the car, so you can sleep this off." You said, walking to the car and getting into her into the car before shutting the door.

You got into the driver's seat, with Quinn sat next to you, and were about to start driving before you felt someone tug on your jacket. It was Sam trying to find your hand since it had disappeared in your sleeve. You pulled it out of it and let her do what she was doing. Once she'd found your hand, she held onto it as you started driving to your apartment, your heart melted slightly over how you'd never really seen this side of her, and secretly hoped you'd get to see it more often, without having her puke her guts up first.

You drove back to the apartment and made sure everyone got in safely, and got Tara into bed with a big glass of water and Chad to make sure she was okay, then gave Ethan a couple of pillows and a blanket along with some clothes Chad had lended him so he could sleep on the couch. After that, you helped Sam wash the alcohol smell off of her and get changed so Quinn could sort herself out and Sam could lay in bed for a bit and try to sleep.

After sorting everyone out, you went to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice, before Quinn came out of her room and the two of you started talking.

"Sorry to put this all on you." You apologised to her, "I would've asked Tara, but she's asleep, so I'm just trying to understand what happened, so everything can be sorted tomorrow"

"It's okay," She chuckled, "I think it's a blur for all of us. I saw Sam come into the party on the other end of the house when I went to find non-alcoholic drinks for us, while we were waiting, and I gave her a nod which she acknowledged, then I went to back to the group and she wasn't there, so I thought I might've seen someone else. Tara went off with this guy while the rest of us were trying to talk sense into her and then once Chad had punched the guy, me, Mindy and Anika were making sure Tara was okay, and then we heard the man groan and we turned round and saw Sam standing over him with her taser in hand, so we put two and two together, and then everything else happened that Tara told you about." The red head explained.

"So basically everything that happened, except where she was is included in the story, and then she starts vomiting out of nowhere." You said.

"Pretty much." Quinn stated.

"Okay, I'm gonna see if Sam's awake, see what she remembers. If she doesn't remember a lot then I'll ask her tomorrow. You get to sleep, too." You replied.

"Yeah that's a good idea," The girl said, yawning, "Night Y/N." She added, turning to go to her room.

You put your cup in the sink and turned the lights out in the kitchen and walked over to yours and Sam's room. Upon entry, you saw Sam sat up in bed with the lamp on, scrolling on her phone.

"You should be asleep." You said to her.

"Mhmmm, couldn't sleep without you, plus the video of you having a go at those girls is going around everywhere." Sam replied, showing you her phone.

"Yeah, I don't care. I told my lawyer about it and she's on it, so it's all good. Wanna tell me what happened?" You asked her.

"I went to go get them, and then walked in and was roped into playing beer pong. Next thing I know, its 5 games later and I see Chad punch that guy and I go over and see Tara at the bottom of the stairs, so I put the pieces together, and tasered the bastard." She explained.

"So you've probably got alcohol poisoning?" You stated.

"Yep." She said, "But hey, at least I don't smell like booze anymore." She added.

"That is true." You agreed. "You okay, apart from the vomiting thing?" You added.

"Uh, pretty crappy actually. I can't help wanting to look out for Tara, and protect her, when I think she needs it, but it just sucks when she can't see that, and gets angry for me doing that and not letting her live her life. I don't know it just sucks her not being able to trust me, or maybe it's me. Maybe I need to let her make her own mistakes and come to me for help rather then me jumping in to save her all the time." Sam stated.

"Well it's up to you to judge that. Sometimes you need to intervein to save her, sometimes it's just your gut saying you do." You advised.

"If I were you, I would wait to talk to her about it tomorrow. Make sure she's okay, make your point even if she interrupts, however if she does then take note of what she's saying, and then let her make her point. If you do that and discuss how you both feel and how you felt, you should be fine." You added.

"Thanks," Sam said, "I needed that." She added.

"Anytime." You replied, slipping into bed next to her.

"I love you," She slurred, kissing you deeply.

"You're drunk, but I love you too." You answered.

"I'm never too drunk to know I love you." She stated.

"Night, sweet girl." You said to her, kissing her forehead and wrapping a hand around her waist.

"Night." Sam replied, reaching up and turning the lamp off before settling down and falling asleep in your arms, just as you'd done earlier that night.

*****

This was a long one but I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, let me know what other things you would like me to write, and yeah feel free to request for the characters on my pinned post.

See you in the next one.

-Harlow

[lonewolfel]

The Raven Witch Chapter 3

Read on AO3

First Chapter, Second Chapter

Sorry that it's mostly a rewrite of Luz and Willow and Amity in this episode but I wasn't sure how to break it up to get the parts that I wanted. Bare with me. This will probably be the last time it is so close to cannon.

"Stir cloak wise three times," Lilith said. The witch was standing over Luz looking over her shoulders. Luz did what the witch said. "Good now let sit for 4 hours."

"So what now?" Luz asked. Lilith looked deep in thought. The witch's eye bags looked worse than usual. Perhaps she hasn't slept in a day. It was pretty fitting considering she hadn't even realized what time of day it has been the entire time that Luz had been here.

"Well, I only have the one caldron... You can't exactly go looking for your own ingredients..." Lilith started.

"Why can't I get my own ingredients?" Luz asked

"You don't have any magic and you just started working on your first potion. Plus you can't identify the Boiling Isle's flora and fauna." Lilith explained. Luz frowned at that.

"I can too." Luz protested. Lilith huffed. "I think you are underestimating me."

"You have only been here three days. You being able to recognize anything will be impossible not to mention you don't have anything to defend yourself with." Lilith said

"I can handle it," Luz said. Hooty slithered over to Lilith and pressed his face to hers.

"Let her it'll be funny," Hooty said. Lilith sighed. The witch rubbed her head.

"Fine," Lilith muttered. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. She began to write down a list. She handed the paper to Luz. "Here's a list of the most basic potion ingredients. Be back in 4 hours." With that Lilith stood up only swaying slightly. Then she left the room. Luz took the piece of paper and headed towards the front door.

"Bye Hooty," Luz called out.

"Bbbyyyeeee Luuuuuuzzzzz." Hooty responded. Luz walked further into the forest that surrounded the house. She then pulled out the paper. She tried to read it, but unfortunately, it seemed Lilith has bad handwriting. Each letter was run together in such a way that she couldn't figure out what they were supposed to be.

"That's fine I can do this without a list," Luz said. She looked around and saw some sort of ball shapish thing. Luz kneeled down and picked it up. "This looks magical." Then Luz sighed. "Everything looks magical here. I have no idea what I am doing. Maybe Lilith was right."

"You can do it! You can!" A girl's voice said. Luz tucked the object into her pocket and stood up.

"Mysterious voice of encouragement?" Luz asked herself. She began to walk towards where the voice was coming from. She pushed apart a shrub and saw a young girl in pink and black clothes with dark hair and glasses. Luz gasped in shock. "No! Little witch girl."  The witch moved from her sitting position.

"You can do it. Even if you get a bad grade it's not a reflection of you as a witch. And my dads are right. There are better opportunities on this track." The girl told herself. She paced around. "Now get to school!" With that, she accidentally stepped on a flower. "Oh, no! Oh, little friend! I'm sorry!" She kneeled down and drew a circle over the crushed plant. The circle glowed green and revived the flower. There was a loud sound as if something was headed towards them. Just then a large wheelbarrow appeared from the forest with a girl with similar clothes and green hair riding on top of it reading as it glowed and moved on its own. It stopped before the other witch.

"Willow." The green-haired girl said. She closed the book as she looked over. "Wow, you're so unnoticeable I almost ran into ya." The green-haired girl jumped off and stood before the other girl. Her entire posture screamed superiority.

"Hi, Amity." The first girl, Willow said. She stood up with a timid demeanor.

"Shouldn't ya get to class early to prep your..." Amity started. She was cut off by another wheelbarrow shaking and tipping over. Purple goop poured from it. Willow turned around and followed the goop as it spread towards her. "Oh, Willow. You don't have anything to show, do you?"  

"Witch drama," Luz whispered in excitement.

"This is why people call you Half-a-Witch Willow," Amity said with a sigh. Willow pulled her hood up and blushed in shame. Then there sounded like banging coming out of Amity's wheel burrow. "Oh looks like someone wants to say something to you." She removed the lid of the container. "Abomination rise." She snapped her fingers and a vaguely human shape goop figure appeared from the container. It leaned over towards Willow with a hand outstretched towards her.

"You're a star." The creature struggled. With its hand, it traced a shape onto her forehead.

"Aw, it's like mine," Amity said. She fixed something gold on her shirt. "But much smaller and meaningless. As top student, it's my duty to tell you to keep at it. Even you could get a passing grade someday." The condescension was clear in her voice. Luz didn't like her one bit. "Abomination cower." The abomination returned to its goopy shape and disappeared into its container. She put the lid back on and picked up the handles for the wheelbarrow. "See you in class, superstar." With that, she walked away. Willow turned away from her with her hood still up. She then removed it showing her sad look to the human. Luz stuck out her tongue as she passed by.

"Oh, see you in class, superstar." Willow mocked. She wiped away the goop from her forehead. "I hate when she does that. I hate making abominations. I hate getting bad grades. Ugh! I can't stand this anymore!" With that Willow's eyes glowed a bright green. Luz gasped in shock. Large vines grew around the girl. One of the vines headed straight towards Luz.

Luz let out a scream of fear as the thorny vine wrapped around her and dragged her towards the witch girl. She was flung into the air with the vine letting her go allowing her to fall onto the ground. The girl turned around and looked at the human. More vines wrapped around Luz's legs. The witch seemed to snap out of whatever she had been in.

Willow began to chant "no"s as she moved toward the human. "I'm so sorry." She kneeled before Luz using her magic to remove the vines.

"It's ok. The thorns only went through a few layers of skin." Luz said. Willow moved closer to the human girl.

"So circly." Willow said in confusion. Luz yeeped and then covered her ears with her hands. "You're human! This is astounding! A human on the Boiling Isles! How'd you get here? What are you doing here?" Willow helped Luz stand up and looked around at her as if studying her. Then what sounded like a bell sounded off. "Uh, I'm sorry. I can't stay. I have to go disappoint my teacher. It was nice to meet you, human." Willow began to walk away.

"Wait!" Luz called. She then chased after the girl. "I'm Luz and you're Willow, right? What you did with that flower and those plants it was wow."

"Thanks, but I'm not even supposed to be doing plant magic. My parents put me in the abomination track at school." Willow said. Luz squealed in excitement. She rushed forward and grabbed the witch's shoulders.

"Like, magic school? Like winding towers, cute uniforms, dark plots that threaten your life kind of magic school?" Luz asked in excitement. Willow nodded her head. "That's so cool! I'm so jealous. I have a teacher, but her lessons are a bit... I bet she wouldn't even let me enroll, but I wish I could spend one day there."

"I wish I could get a passing grade for once. Then people would stop calling me Half-a-Witch Willow." Willow responded. She kicked the goop and it made a groan of pain.

"Hey, wait. I know how we could both get what we want." Luz said. She bent down and grabbed a handful of goop. It reminded her of the slime that you would buy at the store. "Make me your abomination." She splats the purple goop onto herself. "I'll get you a good grade and you can get me into magic school. It's fiendishly clever."

"What?" Willow gasped

"I saw that girl's thing. It's just chunks of stuff that talks weird. I'm chunks of stuff and I talk weird!" Luz explained

"That's true," Willow said. She laughed a little. "Ok, it's a deal, Luz."

~~~

Lilith must have fallen asleep. For she was awakened by the smell of something burning. She sat up straight and began to rub her eyes to clear the sleepiness from her eyes. She didn't have time to sleep she needs to find ...it. Not to mention with the human her time is now divided.

"Hey, Lulu, what happens if the potion isn't stirred in 4 hours?" Hooty asked hesitantly. Lilith bolted up out of her chair. She swayed slightly getting to her feet but she couldn't let the weakness stop her. She rushed up the stairs and headed towards the kitchen.

The potion was smoking and sputtering sparks. Lilith began to cough on the smoke. She drew a blue spell circle in the air. The fire extinguished with her magic.

"Hootsifer open the windows and doors!" Lilith coughed out.

"On it," Hooty said. The House demon quickly did as he was told.

Lilith rushed forward and grabbed the bubbling sparking caldron not caring about the burns the hot metal was giving her. She rushed through the freshly opened door. She threw the caldron out of the door just in time because the potion exploded in bright green light. It released an awful smelling gas that caused Lilith to cover her nose and cough more.

"Where...on...Titan...is...Luz?" Lilith demanded between coughs as she reentered the house.

"LLLIIIIILLLLIIIITTTHHHH!" Said human cried. Still coughing Lilith quickly went to the front of the house. Luz latched onto her in a hug much to the witch's annoyance.

"What did you do?" Lilith grunted still coughing. The hug was not helping Lilith's breathing.

"So I was looking for ingredients. By the way, you have awful handwriting. Then I stumbled across this seed and then..." Luz explained quickly. Honestly, Lilith was too tired to decipher the human. Then Luz let go of the hug. "But wait, my new friends! They're in danger!"

"Luz!" Another young girl cried. Two young witches appeared one a boy and the other a girl. The three kids hugged each other.

"Great there are more of her," Lilith muttered fixing her glasses. The kids broke their embrace with the two girls holding each other's shoulders.

"You won't believe it, Luz. Everything is perfect now." The girl said

"It's true, I don't believe it," Luz responded

"Principal Bump was so impressed by my plant work he's switching me to the plant magic track." The girl said. So Bump has gotten a promotion since the last time Lilith had seen him. "Look!" The girl stepped back and twirled with her Hexside uniform turning green.

"Yes!" Luz celebrated clearly happy for her new friend. Lilith smiled slightly. They reminded her when her and...doesn't matter. The elder witch's smile faded. "What about Amity?"

"Last we saw, she was asking Bump if today could count as extra credit." The boy answered

"Well, I can't wait to see you in action next time I sneak in," Luz said. Then looks of distress and horror passed on the young witches' faces.

"Uh, about that...you're kinda sorta...banned." The boy responded. He then pulled out the banned poster for Luz to look at. Lilith facepalmed at that. Of course, she would pick up a human that could get banned from a school she didn't even go to.

"But we could come here and teach you what we learned." The girl reassured the human.

"Aw, that would be nice, but... I have a pretty great teacher already." Luz said. Lilith was shocked at that. She quickly recovered.

"And I have a pretty good apprentice when she follows directions," Lilith said. Luz looked guilty.

"What's that smell?" The boy asked. Lilith crossed her arms and Luz shrunk deeper into herself.

[hawkfurze]

1, 3, and 17 from the Writer Asks?

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

It depends on what I’m writing! For instance, for fan fics, like my current Desolation!Jon TMA fic WIP, I usually write in Comic Sans cause it makes words flow easier. I’m not incredibly great with grammer and all that so it helps me pick out the mistakes I made during edits. For the script for my comic, In Harmony, and for the tentative podcast I’m writing, I’ve been using Courier New, mostly just for that easy to read script format. For Not Quite Somewhere Else and The Shepherd of Oblivion, I write the script as I’m drawing pages so the font is just my handwriting, oops.

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

It’s one that I am kind of readopting from my writing habits back when I wrote so much Far Cry 5/ Far Cry New Dawn fan fiction, but I used to write in the break room at my last two jobs before my shift started because I had to walk to work, but since I started driving and got a new job I don’t do that anymore and haven’t written a lot of fics or scripts because of it. I’m trying to get back into the habit now that I’m back at school by writing in the cafe during breakfast cause apparently I can’t concentrate on writing work unless I have a cup of coffee with me.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I can do this with my Desolation!Jon fic since besides maybe doodles and small comics and/or fics I don’t really wanna write another long fic for this, especially since I’m already working on Not Quite Somewhere Else. But the whole fic is a statement from Martin about how he met Jon in Bournemouth during a vacation he took back when he worked at the Institute’s library. A lot of people liked that comic piece I did about Eye!Agnes and Desolation!Jon, so I decided to actually write Martin’s statement. I won’t go into the full details about how they met and stuff cause thats for the fic, but after the events in the statement, Jon and Martin still kept seeing each other (even if they’re technically not going out by the time Jon and Agnes meet). At the Institute, most of the S1 cannon still happens, except Agnes is Archivist and she doesn’t have the same insecurity issues that S1 Jon had, so Martin’s experience with Jane doesn’t happen. However, around the time the S1 finale happens, Agnes has assigned Martin enough statements regarding Jon that Martin makes a statement of his own, along with a request for her to stop assigning him to anything that might be related to Jonathan Sims as he’d rather have Jon tell him these things himself with his own volition instead of digging into his personal life for his job. Sasha still gets taken by the NotThem and eventually Agnes finds out from Melanie that she got replaced. Unlike S2 Jon, Agnes tells Tim and Martin that Sasha got replaced and Martin suggests that Agnes goes to Jon for help. That’s pretty much all the details I came up with this AU, other than the fact that both Jon and Agnes still have the same experiences with the Web, Agnes’s just happens in the 90s and Jon’s in the 50s/60s. Jon’s grandmother also was a member of the Lightless Flame and had a hand in killing his parents. And I think thats everything?

[wwitbeyondmeasure]

Summer At The Burrow - r.w. fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return

Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations 

You awoke to the sound of quiet shuffling in the corner of the room. You opened your eyes but didn't dare move. The wizarding world had become increasingly dangerous lately so you were terrified that there could be some dark wizard lurking in the darkness, ready to kidnap you. Then, you heard someone stub their toe and the sound of a muffled swear eased your fear.

"Ron?" you asked, no longer afraid of the mysterious noises in the room. You flipped over in bed so now you were facing him.

Your cheeks immediately flushed a deep shade of red. Whatever it was you were expecting to see when you turned around, it definitely wasn't a shirtless Ron.

"H-Hi. Sorry I, er, thought you were asleep," he stammered, standing frozen as if he was paralyzed.

Your brain was having an intense argument with your eyes to prevent them from dropping from Ron's face to his bare torso. Unfortunately, you were weak, so your gaze fell ever so slightly and your face got even redder. The years of Quidditch seemed to really have paid off because Ron's chest was toned. Freckles littered his shoulders and chest like constellations and you fought the urge to run your fingers over every single one of then. You tried your very best not to notice his prominent v-line leading to the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

Ron's face was the same color as his hair as he hastily threw a shirt on, to your great disappointment.

"I couldn't sleep well in normal clothes so I came up to get some pajamas...didn't mean to wake you," he muttered quietly, his eyes locked in a staring contest with the floor.

It took a second for you to snap your attention to his words when all your brain was thinking about was him half naked only a moment ago.

"S'okay," you said, matching his soft tone.

An odd silence filled the room, a silence that usually wasn't present in conversations with your best friend.

You scooted over closer to the wall, making as much room as you could in the small bed.

Ron took your silent cue and laid down next to you, folding his arms behind his neck as he leaned against the bed frame.

"Couch not treating you well?" you asked, keeping your tone light in hopes he hadn't noticed how you were ogling at him a minute ago.

He groaned, "I don't know how old that couch is, but I think my mum got it before her and Dad were even married. It's like sleeping on rocks."

"I can sleep down there if you want," you offered, feeling guilty for taking his room.

Ron was shaking his head before you even finished your sentence.

"No way, I'm a gentleman. I can't do that," he told you.

You snorted at his choice of words. "You're the furthest thing from it," you joked.

He playfully slapped your shoulder.

"It's true!" you defended yourself. "I don't think we've had one conversation at the dining hall where you're not talking with your mouth full."

His shoulders, clad in his red Chudley Cannons pajama shirt, jostled up and down with quiet laughter. You noticed there was a small hole in the middle of the shirt and you could see his pale skin moving underneath the cloth.

Forcing your eyes back up to meet his, you tried to change the subject.

"So why were you in Diagon Alley for so long?" you asked nervously, praying he hadn't noticed your eyes betraying your better judgment once again.

At this question, Ron beamed.

"They really kept the secret?" he asked, excitedly hopping out of the bed. "Nobody told you? Not even Ginny?"

Confused, you shook your head.

"I got you a present," Ron explained as he walked to the window and opened it, letting in the fresh nighttime summer air. "I asked the family to not tell you what it was, but I half expect them to anyways. But I'm glad they didn't, I wanted it to be a surprise."

You followed him out of bed, sitting next to him on the windowsill. You watched as he leaned out of the window, put his fingers to his lips, and let out a short whistle. Nothing happened, and you craned your head out the window to see what he was calling for.

The night was empty, all you could see were the rolling fields outside of the Burrow and the garden gnomes throwing rocks at one another.

You were about to pull your head back into the room, when you saw a small pink blur soaring through the air. It looked like it was getting closer and closer to the window.

"What is that?" you asked, looking to Ron for answers but were met with only his large grin.

Suddenly, the pink blur shot into the bedroom. You turned around, stunned as you saw Ron cradling it. Taking a step forward, you were delighted to see it was a creature.

"An owl?" you asked excitedly, as you stood next to Ron to see the creature closer.

It was miniature, about the size of Ron's owl Pigwidgeon, but a million times more adorable. Pink feathers surrounded large blue eyes and you noticed a black heart shaped marking on the top of its head.

"Her name's Aphrodite. I call her Dite though," Ron told you, glancing up at you from under his lashes to see your reaction.

You were beaming from ear to ear.

"She's amazing," you said.

Ron grinned. "Good, because she's yours," he said, moving closer so he could set the small creature into your hands. She reluctantly stepped off of Ron's palms, but once you gave her a small pat on the head, she nuzzled into your hands.

"I know how upset you were about Celeste, so I wanted to cheer you up. I spent days in Eeylops Owl Emporium looking for the perfect one and then one day Dite showed up. She's pretty affectionate and a fast flyer, a bit annoying really, but I thought you'd like her," Ron said. He looked at you again, biting his lip in hopes that you appreciated your gift.

Dite flew onto your shoulder as you lunged forward and wrapped Ron into a tight hug. He let out a little gasp of surprise but then wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Thank you, I love her," you said while hugging him.

"I'm glad. Now when we write letters to each other, you'll have an owl too so Pig won't get so tired making so many trips," he said.

At the mention of your letters, guilt knocked the smile off your face. You quickly pushed away from Ron.

"Ikindasortamaybelookedthroughyourpersonalbelongingsandsawtheletters," you said in one quick breath.

Ron stared at you confused. "Y/n, I didn't understand one word of that."

You swallowed nervously before stating slower, "I, er, I was curious about that box under your nightstand so I kinda...opened it. It had my name on it and I saw all my letters you kept," you said nervously. Dite reflected your emotions and shifted awkwardly from talon to talon on your shoulder.

Ron's facial expression changed slightly, and you were afraid he was going to be mad at you. Here he was, offering you a place to stay over the summer, buying you an owl, and letting you sleep in his room and how did you repay him? Oh yeah, by snooping into his personal items.

Instead of the anger you were expecting, Ron looked deeply embarrassed.

"Oh," he sighed, lowering his head and scratching the back of his neck. "Bet you think I'm weird for saving all your letters right? I dunno why I did, I just sometimes liked to reread them when I hadn't seen you in a while. I guess cause I missed you. I dunno," he said.

Again, a silence filled the room. He missed you. He missed you. Of course you missed him over the summer, both as a friend misses a friend and as someone misses their crush. You wondered which kind of missing he felt.

"I keep your letters too," you told him.

Ron finally looked back up at you. "Yeah?" he asked with a hopeful smile.

You nodded, "I reread them when you take a while to reply, sort of as a way to hold me over until the next letter. Or I reread them because your handwriting is so damn awful it takes a couple reads to actually figure out what you wrote."

He laughed, and just like that the tension was gone.

You spent the next hour or so chatting and playing with Dite. Even though Ron's watch read 2am, neither of you really cared, you just missed talking to each other. Back at Hogwarts, you would take walks along the Black Lake once a week and time seemed to matter less when you were together. You would stroll around the lake numerous times, your conversation flowing easily, and not even notice how long you had been gone until the sun would set. The same flow came into place now, and before long it was 5am.

By now, you and Ron were laying on his bed, your head leaning against his shoulder. Dite took it upon herself to sit with Pig in his cage, drinking some of the water from his water bottle as he unknowingly snoozed in the back of the cage.

A yawn escaped you as Ron sleepily spoke about the newest broomstick he saw on sale at Diagon Alley.

"It's late," he said, glancing at his watch with tired eyes

You nodded, too comfortable to move.

"Is it alright if I stay up here tonight? That couch is bloody awful," he said.

Heart soaring, you nodded again and scooted closer to the wall to give him more room. He got under the covers with you, slowly wrapping his arm around your back. Now you were cuddling next to Ron, your head on his chest as his fingers drew lazy circles on your back. People who were just friends didn't lay like this together, right?

Before long, he was snoring. You closed your eyes too. For the first time since you came to The Burrow, you drifted to sleep peaceful and warm. With Ron's arm wrapped around you, you were more comfortable than you had ever been before.

[astarkey]

oh shoot, I have been gone a few days and I just realized I never sent in these asks! If you are still wanting to play: 6. Last Song I Listened To 18. Do I sing in the shower 31. Do I like my handwriting? 41. One of my scars, how did I get it? 62. What would be my dream job? 💖💖💖💖💖

It's okay! I'm still up for answering these!!! 🤗💖💖💖

6. Last Song I Listened To: Pretty Boy // Cannons

18. Do I sing in the shower: I hum, but I do it rarely lol.

31. Do I like my handwriting: Yeah, it's alright. It's like neat chicken-scratch haha.

41. One of my scars, how did I get it? On my right middle finger, I accidentally burned it when I was flat ironing my hair when I was hurrying to get to a morning class. All there's left now is a small dot that looks like a mole.

62. What would be my dream job? Probably working for a game company.

Thank you so much for asking me these!!! 🥰💖💕💖

[srhlsx]

CHAPTER 11

master | ch. 10 | ch 12

You didn’t know how to react or what to do.

The match ended when the cannon of an ace from Shiratorizawa sent a rocket right past the Seijoh blockers. Oikawa and Watari had both dove for the ball to save it, but in the end they were just centimeters away. You watched from your seat up above, hand covering your mouth in shock, as the boys in teal and white fell to their knees on the floor, their fists clenched in pain and anger. The team in purple huddled together, slapping one another on the back and cheering happily.

Your stomach turned over in sickness but you couldn’t look away from the sad scene in front of you. You chewed at your thumb, unsure of what to do next. You saw that the Seijoh cheering section was clearing out and you decided to wait and avoid the crowd before moving.

When you finally got down to the main lobby some time later, you of course ran into the team in purple and white and had to stop yourself from obviously turning around and walking the other direction. You looked directly at the tall red-head, a smug smile on his face when he saw you.

“Sure you want to stick around with those guys?” He called out, cupping a hand around his mouth for added volume. A few of his teammates turned to see who he was talking to, the boy with bangs sputtering a little. “There’s plenty of room on our bus for you to ride~”

Your upper lip curled ever so slightly at what he was suggesting and you sent him a sickly sweet closed-lip smile. Initially you started to wave back at him but quickly flipped your raised hand around and extended your middle finger. “Eat my ass, Tendou.” You called back, earning a few alarmed glances from the spectators that were still around.

“Some day!” He replied, biting his lip and watching you as he walked backwards, being pushed away by the ashy-haired teammate.

You turned back around and easily found the Seijoh team walking out of the locker rooms, solemn expressions on all their faces. They looked tired, worn out physically and mentally from the two-zero loss they suffered. They were close games, but you had a feeling that in their minds close wasn’t enough. You saw Oikawa and Iwaizumi towards the back of the group and in a moment of confusion, you almost didn’t know who to go to first.

“(y/n),” Oikawa greeted, his tone was sad but he put on a smile for you anyways. Iwaizumi snapped his gaze up to you, locking eyes then turning away abruptly which stung just a little. You understood though, he didn’t have the best of games and you didn’t want to bother him more.

You reached up and brushed a few locks of hair away from Oikawa’s forehead, a pout on your face and you looked into his eyes to try and read the situation. “What do you need from me?” You asked.

He looked a little taken aback at your question. He was expecting you to compliment him, tell him that he played well; he was expecting to hear everything he didn’t want to hear. He let out a relieved sigh and leaned ever so slightly into your touch that had reached up to him. He didn’t want to be told he was perfect for once, he wanted to be left alone.

“Honestly,” He sighed, grabbing your wrist gently and pulling it away. “I need to be alone. I need to go over tape and I need to go for a run.”

You nodded, you hadn’t really expected to be with him or any of the team members whether they won or lost. Of course, you had been hoping it would be because they were celebrating together. “Okay,” You mumbled, a sad smile aimed up at him. “Please ice your knee some? I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We wouldn’t miss it. Text me when you get home.” He said, giving you a tight hug and a kiss on the top of your head before walking away to return to his team. 

Your eyes followed him and landed on the wing spiker who was waiting for his captain. You looked at Iwaizumi sadly, a brief thought flashing through your mind that you wish you could comfort him too, but there was no time or place for that. You wanted to shove those lingering feelings down, way down into the deepest part of you so they could be ignored. 

So you stood there alone as the boys left, unsure about what to do next.

- - - - -

“Oikawa! Iwaizumi!”

Both boys looked in the direction of their names being called. They saw the tall figure of Kindaichi, their first year middle blocker, waving at them excitedly from a few rows above where they stood. They climbed the steps and slid across the seats to sit down next to him, greeting one another with a variation of handshakes that boys always seem to do.

“Kiko told me (y/n) said you guys were coming,” Kindaichi said. “Pretty grateful, I didn’t really want to be alone.”

“If we knew you were coming we would’ve picked you up,” Oikawa told the younger boy, settling into his seat and looking around the packed space. They were back in Sendai Arena again, but it looked completely different from when they had been there the day before. 

Rather than volleyball courts set up on the floor, there were barriers blocking off a single large rectangle right in the middle. On one side, below where the boys were sitting, there was a designated judges table. Scattered around the outside there were cameras, photographers, and what looked like officials of some sort. The boys had never seen anything like it and were not embarrassed to admit it was impressive.

Kindaichi reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Opening it up, he showed it to Oikawa and Iwaizumi so they could read over it. “Kiko gave me instructions,” He laughed, pointing at the neatly written list of notes. “She said it’s really important that we cheer for them at the right times because it hypes up the crowd and the judges notice that.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi both looked over the handwriting, noting they were in fact strict instructions, and getting a laugh out of them. Iwaizumi read out loud, “When to cheer: A boy’s guide to dance competitions.

When they do something particularly athletic or aerial 

When they do something with a lot of attitude

Whenever there is a solo--”

The list went on but the boys seemed to get the idea. “I think I’ll just cheer when everyone else does,” Oikawa mumbled, handing the paper back to Kindaichi who nodded with wide eyes. He then turned to Iwaizumi with a teasing grin, “All these pretty girls around, maybe we’ll finally find you a girlfriend, Iwa?”

The comment earned a hard elbow to the ribs, making Oikawa cry out dramatically. Iwaizumi couldn’t voice the thought that flashed through his head. The fact that if Oikawa had asked any other girl to fake date him, Iwaizumi would have said no to coming to their club event. You were here. He wanted to see you. 

Your team was on deck for the next group routine to perform. You saw a few nervous faces in the group you stood with, but you weren’t overly concerned. After the dead weight had dropped off, your confidence in the team you led grew immensely and you were sure they could perform under pressure. You saw Kiko spacing off just a little bit and you were wondering if she was looking for Kindaichi in the crowd. You reached out and tugged at the strap of her costume, letting it snap back against her skin very lightly but enough to get her attention. She blinked a few times and looked at you, you smiled and tugged at her cheek teasingly as she blushed.

You stood as a group in the designated waiting area, stretching and preparing for your turn, when your school name was called and it was time to start. Walking out together, you all plastered on the smiles that the judges adored, fluffing your hair a little as it fell down your back, and got into the first position of the routine. 

The music blasted through the speakers of the arena clearly and you felt it pound in your chest and you all went through the motions you’d spent hours perfecting. It was a hip-hop contemporary routine, so the moves had to be clean and precise each and every time. And they were.

Up in the stands Oikawa, Iwazumi, and Kindaichi all watched with the same enthusiasm as if they were watching Olympic volleyball - it was amazing, captivating, and very exciting.

Iwaizumi cheered whole-heartedly along with his teammates when he was supposed to, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time. Whether you were in the front making a solo statement, your hair flipping around in a way that made his stomach drop, or if you were just in the back doing moves with the rest of the team. It was clear you were the leader, and he didn’t want to miss any of you.

The way your black spandex, accented with teal and white, clung so closely to the body he had once gotten familiar with made him want to go back to that night that wasn’t so long ago. He could remember how you moved beneath him in ways that made his mind drift with thoughts he probably shouldn’t be having. Your movements were athletic, meticulous, passionate, and powerful - and they made his mouth suddenly feel very dry and his chest clench painfully. 

God, did he want you so badly in that very moment. The realization was alarming to him and he hoped he did his best to hide his emotions.

When the competition was over, and Seijoh took home awards in almost every event they performed in, you and Kiko managed to find the small group of boys who were your own private cheering section. You smiled genuinely at them, carrying your many bags filled with clothes as you walked up to them.

“You were amazing!” Oikawa cheered, spreading his arms wide. He ruffled your hair affectionately and smiled down at you. “Wasn’t she so great, Iwa?”

You looked over to Iwaizumi who stood next to Oikawa with his hands in his pockets. You saw the slightest flicker of a spark in his eyes when they caught yours and you nearly wanted to pass out from the feeling it gave you, a shock shooting straight through you in a familiar way like it did that night you shared with him. “Yes,” He agreed. “She was amazing.”

“Here, Kindaichi, take a picture of us!” Oikawa motioned to the phone you held in your hand, which you handed over to the first year and then settled together with the two third years.

You stood between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s arm draped around your shoulders in the same way he always did. You pulled your own arms back and looped them around both the boy’s waists, pulling them close as you aimed a wide, genuine grin up at the camera phone. You felt Iwaizumi’s arm snake around your own waist, gripping the supple flesh right above your hip tightly, not unlike how he had handled you in your bed. 

His grip was under your warm up jacket, so no one would’ve been able to see how tightly he held you, but you felt it. You felt it down to your core.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Moth Mondays with the Funtastic World of Hanna-Barbera

Bingo from The Banana Splits

When you spend some time embedded on tour with The Banana Splits, one cannot help but get caught in their crazy and silly milieu of mischief and whimsy such as Bingo can’t help relate here:

Whomever came up with the idea that fan mail for The Banana Splits could be sent out on tour to General Delivery in the cities where we were performing must either have had a sense of genius or was a crazy sort of superfan--the “stage-door Jane” sort of groupie. But at any rate, during a tour of second- and third-string venues in the Midwestern states a few years back, we decided to try out the concept of encouraging fan mail being sent to General Delivery where we were performing. Which would require some rather creative announcements being sent to the fan magazines ahead of time, particularly where they include the addresses for sending fan mail.

And understand, too, that General Delivery only holds mail for 15 days tops, so we had to make that point clear in the announcement. Which, in our case, meant 15 days prior to our engagements, which was more than likely to be in some second-rate “ballroom” or “opera house” as somehow seemed dated-looking. And whoever decided to come up with that particular tour approach, involving the tour bus for the most part, probably deserved the proverbial medal more so than Muttley when you get right down to it.

Especially since they were likely to be in smaller communities.

But of all the stops in which our experiment in receiving fan mail “on the fly” during tour went to, perhaps one such would have to stand out: It was in a one-horse town somewhere in the cultural backwaters of Iowa that still had a going ballroom which attracted a few decent bands every so often, and advertised its performances widely. I won’t give the town name or even the venue such, but I will say that the broadside advertising our performance only said that our performance was a “Mystery Act--To Be Announced,” perhaps hoping to build up the suspense until performance time, which wasn’t until Saturday evening. But what I can say was that we were able to go to the Post Office closest to the venue on Saturday morning to pick up our General Delivery fan mail just ahead of their midday closing ... and on seeing the presence of yours truly, I could swear that the clerk almost fainted when we went to the proper window. Luckily, a carrier as was just getting ready to make his rounds pointed us over to a door otherwise marked PRIVATE for the collection ... and you wouldn’t believe what the response was:

No less than two bundles of about 100 letters each, bound with rubber bands ... and with something of an impressive(?) gazetteer of places, reinforced by rather creative handwriting in addressing same to us. Which had us, when he had lunch at the local cafe (where you could just imagine the dumb looks of mostly farmer types from the surrounding countryside), poring over the fan mail and wondering just how puerile-sounding it could get after so much time away from performing or even recording. But believe you me, several of the letters were good for laughs, particularly when read aloud by Drooper or Fleegle ...

And such would continue back at the performance venue, back in “the green room” for the most part ... when Fleegle spontaneously came up with the idea of featuring during the performance, and coming out of the intermission specifically, a reading of some of the sillier and more absurd specimens of fan mail received. We put the better examples we would use in the act in a dressing-room pile just so we would know where to find them as we were getting ready for our act that evening. Unaware that WE were going to be this much-advertised “Mystery Act” performing that evening, and wondering what the crowd reaction would be. Drooper, in fact, imagined that it would only be a “mere handful of the curious and the downright crazy.”

But were we wrong: When we got the stage call at just before 7:45 that evening, with only the barest of rehearsal beforehand ... the dance floor of the ballroom actually turned out rather crowded, and so much so (we would later learn) that management had to turn people away because of fire-safety restrictions.

“So what’s the set list supposed to be exactly?” was how Drooper put it rather nervously as showtime neared.

“What set list?” was how Fleegle facetiously out it. “We’re just hoofing it on the road, and besides, aren’t there some in the crowd who are seeing us as outright FREAKS?” Which caught the crowd’s attention such that you can imagine the whole breaking out into laughter on top of the floodlit mirror balls otherwise serving as distractive; for some reason, the stage microphones had been switched on beforehand, making things even more laughable.

So at any rate, what passed for that “concert” stopped short of a train wreck of a performance before even Variety or TMZ got word of what ensued, ad-libbing many of our great numbers between what was mostly going through the fan mail we picked up back uptown, and the laughs that ensued from a largely yokel-minded crowd. Which got even more uproarious when Snorky fired up the T-Shirt Cannon to shoot souvenir T-shirts at random in the crowd during a lull in the fan mail reading ... and by the time we got to our final number, a medley of “Wait Till Tomorrow” and “That’s The Pretty Part of You,” we didn’t realise how late things turned out, what with the curiosity factor as it was.

More specifically, it was more like 2:15 the following morning ... and who was the more embarrassed as opposed to the more stoked up? I’ll probably let you figure it out ... and to the one who does figure it out, meet me in the vestibule after the show and I’ll award a special Banana Splits gift basket.

“... and that’s the story from The Moth”

(The preceding is an independent fanfic feature having no official connexion or association with The Moth. For more information, please to visit their website ... and tune in to The Moth Radio Hour weekends on your local public radio station; check your local radio listings for the day and time.)

[squeiky]

So i just decided to fuck everything and just go full on ham with theories other people made. Beacuse tbh, i just need something that i can use for my own writing purposes. And I like them alot, so im gonna use them.

Cause undertale has plot holes

And i really like the whole alphys, sans and gaster working together thing...

And how sans wrote the entires as well...

Beacuse tbh, that theory REALLY ties a few holes together. And im pretty sure 90% of the holes in undertale are intentional...

I just fits with the whole sans not awnsering his phone... All of the snowdin peeps getting used for the experiments.. The dog food... Sweaty dude... The definte mailbox being crammed with mail.. That he obviously decided not read anymore...

And yes, alphys is.. Anxious over the expirments.. But like.... Sans kinda treats stress and anger with coldness.

Idk. It just tied a few things together i guess.

Also, ever since i got BACK into the fandom i've noticed my handwriting more often.

And then i rememebred that one ask about how my vibe brings off an alphys.. And i can't get over how much i bring out an alphys vibe, that it concerns me.

Cause she has really bad handwriting to the point its unreadable.. like me..And gaster has weird symbols he likes to scribble... And I can read a little bit of wingdings now...

And it was all on the blueprints sans has... And how they both have their own little "secret lab"...

And the fact she knew that one anime joke sans was gonna make and..

Im feeling kinda high right now lmao.

What was i saying?

Ughfnghjgmvkxknsns

I went on reddit and got this theory...

Eeeehhhhhh i support it i guess.

Idk man, cant i just feel gay and high right now?

No? Okay...

https://www.reddit.com/r/Undertale/comments/3s6njn/spoilers_for_true_and_genocide_theory_did_sans/

Yayyyy a linkkk...

I read the comments too....

Idk i needed something to fuel my day. And its still funny how deltarune sans would causually hand out his "phone number" while undertale sans is more.. Not so "handy" with handing out stuff like that..

Also.. Its funny, cause he says "other sanses" and the only other sanses i can think of is deltarune sans. Beacuse technically all of the fandom au's aren't actually cannon.

And like they are completly diffrent people... One without that depresso espresso (deltarune) and the other one on the coffee shop train to depresso land (undertale)

Also that hunka bunka of an alphys with her outfit in deltarune. Eyyyy!!~ she got the confidence to walk up into a shop, with that outfit, and a black suitcase is all like "gimme your guds mate"

And deltarune sans is like "mmm eh okay"

Honestly thats halarious cause i would do that.

But then theres undertale alphys who is like " help i cant talk to people anymore so i must use mettaton to put you in dangerous situations to gain your trust and-"

Deltarune alphys is staring at undertale alphys with judgement. Lots of it. Man this girl got the confidence to talk about asgore kicking her ass while undertale alphys doesnt even let you know who her crush is

Sjxnkwncksmududjeoeml

This whole thing is a mess lmao. Dont judge me pls. Only sans can do that. Its his... Halftime job.

[fuchsiafeathers]

⏳ and 🏢?? 👀👀

:Oc thanks so much for the ask!! Inspiration hit me a lot when it came to the Reincarnation AU! Its under the cut so it doesn’t bother too many people scrolling through.

24. 🏢: Neighbour AU 

I’m not used to doing this so here’s just some plain old head cannons!

Fef sends ‘anonymous’ gifts but its really obvious, with fish wrapping paper, her handwriting or her trying to sneak off.

First time she moved in the neighbourhood Fef went around and introduced herself to everyone with fresh batches of cookies.

When she came to my house, we both we’re very flustered. On my end it was “whoa a girl at my door, who looks and sounds so pretty”, while Fef couldn’t make a coherent sentence but gave the cookies and just left.

She did come back to apologise for it and asked if I could show her around town.

26. ⏳: Reincarnation AU

The same feeling is left after each dream you have, it’s like reliving a past life and you keep seeing the same girl who makes your heart swoon. You can never pinpoint her exact features but the places you’ve dreamt of, they stick out to you. Beaches, caves, oceans, seas, underwater, fields of pink flowers, birds and sea life. It feels so real and you are beginning to believe that you’ve lived many past lives and always end up finding this girl. Not like you’ve counted how times you met her in your dreams, though its 27 times now.

ENTER NAME.

Evie. That’s your name and that’s about it for any redeemable quality of your own being. Other than the multiple things the world chose to make your life ‘interesting’ though its mainly been a hinderance to everything you do.

RECOUNT GIRL’S FEATURES.

The girl she just makes your heart flutter even if her appearance changes in your dreams. Though it’s still her, that lovely smile, those bright eyes, long luscious hair and she’s always taller than you. The same interests of the sea, fish, wildlife and how could you forget that contagious laugh of hers. You flush so many different shades of red for this girl and yet you never seem to get closer to finding her.

Though you are afraid you’ll never meet this wonderful girl you see in your dreams. Mainly due to your secluded nature with meeting people. Yet you remember her favourite colour, fuchsia and she always seems to remember your name, but you can’t do the same for her. That might only be because its just a dream to you even if it feels so real.

BE THE GIRL.

You are currently the girl, who just so happens to dream of her past lives with the love of her life. Feferi, that’s who you are and throughout all your past lives you have been searching for her. The girl who stole your heart, the one who made you run from responsibility in one life and she who protected you in another. Her name is something that never escapes your mind, even if you can’t remember what she looks like. Evie, short and sweet for a girl you have been chasing all this time.

This time you’re going to be with her without the bloodshed of all those times before. Even if boys still try to catch you, you have spent so much time trying to get to her, stay with her and that’s the goal for this life of yours. No more hanging, killing, arranged marriages, and no more wondering if you’re good enough for ‘him’. You’re going to find her and make sure she knows that you love her dearly.

FIND HER.

You can’t find her if you don’t even know her name, though the only thing you can bring yourself to do is to draw her. Draw the girl from your dreams in what ever way you please. Her smile just brings so much joy to you and yet she seems to know your name without being present in this life. Those bright colours she tends to wear, and that long hair, styled in whatever way you perceive it as whether it’s in a dream or comes from your imagination. Though you have a feeling you will see her soon, either in your dreams or in her arms.

[quilloftheclouds]

WIP Questions Tag Game

Because I have to start this blog off somehow! Say hello to some random facts about One Siren’s Soul.

... what, what do you mean I could post some actual writing? Pfft, no.

I actually got this game from @thelysstener​‘s blog and thought it was pretty cool! I wasn’t tagged or anything but I really like doing tag games. Hope you don’t mind!

1: Describe the plot in one sentence

Magical things get stolen from magical people, forcing a siren, a sea witch, a pirate, and a legend of the Royal Navy to begrudgingly work together to get them back. (Aka: A study in how Quill doesn’t know how to write story pitches yet) 2: Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic for your WIP. (I definitely did not follow the “one” thing but too bad)

Sight: The soft, welcome blues of the sky peeking through clouds of a dispersing storm, the ocean below calm despite its froth of foam drifting across rippled dark water.

Smell: Salt and drying seaweed and rotting fish. And then a permeating, engulfing scent from the ocean that you can’t place or describe, like the very depths of its soul. Magic.

Sound: The howl of wind through a cave opening, a background of distant waves crashing amidst sea bird’s cries.

Feel: The crackling of static electricity through your fingertips as you smooth down the folds of your clothing on a stormy day.

Taste: The slight tang of something metallic. Is that blood, or sweat, or metal? Or all three? (Or the tears of my future readers?)

3: Which 3+ songs would make a playlist for your novel?

I’m normally better at making playlists for things but in this case I was really picky, so...

Your Bones by Of Monsters And Men (Probably one of the biggest inspirations for the overall aesthetic and just... feeling of my wip.)

Sirens by Fleurie (The name and lyrics of this song fit in both definitions of the word.)

Coastline by Hollow Coves (There’s... a happy song on this list? What?)

4: What’s the time period and location in which your novel takes place? 

Early 18th century on an alternate Earth in the North Atlantic.

5: Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded? 

So uh. Funny story about that. One Siren’s Soul was originally going to start with ‘A’ instead of ‘One’. I realized pretty quickly why that wasn’t such a good idea, and also I just like how it sounds more, now? 6: What’s the first line of your novel? 

Mmmmm this is a first draft, mate, I don’t wanna touch that just yet. 7: What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

Oh, jeez. All of the ones I really like are heavily context dependent or ridden with spoilers. In lieu of those, have a somewhat-kinda-funny one:

“Colin! Nice to see yer up. Or, well. Down.” - George, right after Colin falls flat on his face in front of him.

8: Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole? 

~Spoilers are fuunnnn~ 9: Who are your character(s) face claims? 

I’m definitely not the most set on these (especially for Io and Dione), but:

Celestine - Amandla Stenberg

Colin - Booboo Stewart

Phoenix - Enam Heikeens Honya

Dione - Maggie Duran

George - Johnny Harrington

Isabel - Camila Cabello

Io - Kirby Griffin

Rose - Nivetha Pethuraj

I have no idea for Io or Sheila or Alixandre yet, oops.

10: Sort your characters into Hogwarts houses.

For some reason these sorts of things are always tough for me? I myself don’t fit in only one so I think that’s worn off on my characters. Here’s some approximates, though:

Gryffindor: Phoenix, Isabel, Colin

Ravenclaw: Dione, Alixandre

Hufflepuff: George, Sheila

Slytherin: Rose

I can’t decide whether Celestine is in Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and Io’s stuck somewhere between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

11: Which character’s name do you like the most?

Chichima is probably my favourite. Who’s that, you ask? Nyehehee.

Including full names it’d probably be Phoenix Solarin because if that isn’t the most over the top thing to name a pyro I don’t know what is.

12: Describe each character’s daily outfit:

I’m just... gonna do my PoV characters, since I have too many characters in general, and fashion (especially historical) is not my strong suit.

Celestine: Maroon, long-sleeved dress; long, cream woolen scarf; and a pair of dark brown, lace up leather boots.

Colin: Simple white tunic; red and multi-coloured knit sash around his waist; brown trousers; and black cavalier boots (but to be honest he goes barefoot way too often).

Phoenix: Simple white blouse; bright red sash around her waist and as a headband; dark trousers; and buckled black leather boots. She gets a scarlet frock coat with gold trim later on.

Dione: Honestly, I have no idea how to describe Dio’s clothes. Other than black felt boots and a light green dress-like thing, I know she has a billion hidden pockets and a giant, hooded, fur and wool cloak that covers over all of the rest of her clothes so you can’t even see them. I dunno.

13: Do any characters have any distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Phoenix has a tattoo of crossed cannons somewhere (and also her, you know, vitiligo), George probably has a couple sailor’s tattoos as well, Isabel only has one arm, Celestine is missing her whole left eye, and Io has very distinctive scarring that she hides and is totally not going to become plot important at all.

14: Which character most fits a character trope?

Maybe Sheila? She’s the sweet and kind old lady shopkeeper who has all the best juicy gossip for our main cast to conveniently learn of.

15: Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Dione. Just. No competition. She writes poetry in her free time. She keeps a diar—I-I mean journal. Also she has actual training in writing but you’re not supposed to know that so shhh. Worst is probably Colin. He can barely read due to his dyslexia and as a regular deckhand he never really had the need to learn anyways.

16: Which character is the best liar? Worst?

You’d think it’d be actual thief and criminal Celestine but no, it’s Phoenix. Also another character I can’t mention because spoilers. Worst would be Colin. That comes up a lot. Sorry, Colin.

17: Which character swears the most? Least?

Rose. Swears. A LOT. Celestine does in Spanish. Least would probably be Alixandre because he’s just... too sweet. Too innocent of a boi.

18: Which character has the best writing? Worst?

Dione also has the best handwriting, since spoiler reasons but also she’s just like that. Colin’s handwriting isn’t the best, but it’s actually Io’s absolute chicken scratch that takes the cake for the worst. You wonder how people can even read her ship logs.

19: Which character is the most like you? Least like you?

Fun fact: Colin was originally based on another character of mine that was originally based on a sona form of me. So. His clumsiness is a new development, I don’t have that, and I’m apparently really good at lying, so there’re some differences. (Also I’m a writer and he can barely read. Oops.) But that obliviousness? That absolute clueless, distractibility? That inability to sit still? Those terrible puns and attempts at being socially adept? That’s me.

20: Which character would you most like to be?

I think Phoenix? You’ll find out why that is in the book, ‘cause her true personality isn’t quite the one people think of her as having, but... yeah. Phoenix is fun.

I’m gonna ignore the rules like a rebel and not tag anyone, so I’ll just tag everyone who wants to do this, instead!

Want to learn more about One Siren’s Soul? You can find the page here. I’m going to be starting a taglist soon, too, so let me know if you’d like to be added!

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero

Chapter Three The Burrow

Lily apologized to Harry first thing the next morning. “It wasn’t fair of me to assume it was your fault. I should have listened to you, no matter how upset I was.”

Harry guessed his dad had told her everything. He was still upset she hadn’t listened to him at first, but he was glad she believed him now. “It’s okay; I forgive you,” Harry said with a small smile.

Lily hugged him tightly and kissed the corner of his forehead.

“Dad promised we’d celebrate my birthday today,” Harry said when they sat down for breakfast.

Lily had a secretive smile and James had a wide grin.

“What is it?” he begged. “What are we doing?”

Lily passed a parchment envelope to him. Harry recognized the handwriting on the front immediately. It was from Ron. But the date at the top of the letter was from yesterday

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday!

I hope you got lots of great presents. I wanted to get you something, but I didn’t know what. Mum suggested I invite you to stay at our place for a couple days. I’m not sure it’s much of a birthday present, but you can come if you like. There’s an old ghoul in the attic, and gnomes in the garden, but at least we have good space for Quidditch, and Fred and George promised they would play with us too.

If you want to come, I mean. I don’t want you to feel like you have to.

-Ron

Harry looked up at his parents excitedly. “Can I really?”

“Of course,” James beamed.

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Harry and Lily arrived a few hours later at The Burrow. It was tall, old, rickety and so full of magic. Like the Potters’ home Styncon Garden, it seemed that the Burrow had started as a small, humble home for a small, humble family. But as years had gone by and generations had added and grown, the house had been added onto and grown itself. Except where Harry’s family had spread the estate out, the Weasleys had built upwards. When Harry stood on the porch of the Burrow and looked up, it seemed as if the house were leaning forward over him. He wondered if it was even held up by magic.

Lily carried his overnight bag, ready for a few days’ stay, and Harry carried his broom. He tried not to bounce with excitement. He’d never actually stayed over at a friend’s house before. He’d stayed with Sirius or Uncle Remus, but that had been baby-sitting. Sirius and Uncle Remus were family. This was so much more grown-up.

Ron answered the door, pink in the face and slightly out of breath. “Hullo, Harry.”

Fred and George came skidding around the corner behind him. “Harry! You made it!” they shouted at him with wide grins.

Harry’s ears went a little pink as he stepped inside.

His eyes roamed the house as they walked in, not sure what to focus on. All of it was too fascinating. There was the coat hanger above the fireplace that looked like an orange tabby, or there was the clock with only one hand and instead of numbers, and it said “tea time” or “time to feed the chickens” or “you’re late!” Or there was the excess of books piled everywhere about the house, instead of organized into neat bookshelves like in his parents’ study.

“It’s not much,” Ron mumbled, hastily straightening a pile of books.

“It’s brilliant,” Harry grinned.

Molly Weasley met them halfway to the kitchen, spoon in her hand. Harry had never seen her outside of parties, where she usually had her hair neatly pressed and wore her best robes. Right now, her hair was frizzy around her face, her dress was made from a several different fabrics, and she wore a flower-printed apron with her wand stuck in one of the pockets. It was so opposite to Lily, who made house spells look like a neat task, requiring no more than a flick of the wand. Lily did chores the way she made potions: in an orderly fashion, cleaning up spills and unnecessary ingredients as she went. Molly seemed to do things more like James: anything and everything all at once.

“Lunch will be ready soon,” Molly said. “Why don’t you take your things up to Ron’s room in the mean time.”

Harry took his bag from his mother, and Lily disappeared into the kitchen with Molly. He, Ron, Fred, and George, started the long trek upstairs to the top of the house.

“Sorry it’s so far,” Ron mumbled, but Harry didn’t care. He happily bounded up the steps after Ron.

When Ron opened the door to his room, Harry saw the bright orange and laughed. “Chudley Cannons?”

“They’re doing really well this year,” Ron said defensively.

Harry set his broom in a corner with his bag and ran to the window. “You can see everything from up here!” He turned around and grinned. “This is the best birthday present ever!”

Ron turned bright red. Fred and George laughed.

“I’m sure you got something better from Sirius,” Ron mumbled.

“Not exactly.” And Harry told them about his miserable birthday, Dobby, and the strange warning about danger at Hogwarts.

Fred frowned. “That sounds pretty fishy.”

“I reckon it was a joke,” George said. “Someone at Hogwarts sent him, someone who doesn’t want you to come back. Anyone you know with a grudge on you?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry and Ron answered at the same time. They exchanged a look of mutual disgust and understanding. That made so much sense. Malfoy’s family would definitely be wealthy enough to have a house elf.

“Lucius Malfoy’s kid?” Fred asked.

“I think so,” Harry said. He was only vaguely familiar with the Malfoys. Sirius had a cousin who married a Malfoy, or something. He wasn’t too familiar with Sirius’s family, because every time it came up, Sirius made a joke that made Lily frown and James clear his throat, and Uncle Remus would change the subject. But Harry had had enough confrontations with Draco Malfoy to guess what the Lucius Malfoy was like.

“Uncle Fabian said he was a big supporter of You-Know-Who,” George said.

“But he came to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared, said he never meant any of it.” Fred said this with an over-exaggerated posh accent. “Uncle Gideon thinks he’s lying, and he was in You-Know-Who’s inner circle the whole time.”

“But Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon are a little strange,” Ron said.

Harry rather liked Ron’s uncles. They were good friends with James and Lily, but Ron was right. They were from Alastor Moody’s school of defense training, which was a lot of looking-over-your-shoulder and throwing spells into dark corners.

Still, knowing Draco Malfoy, Harry wondered if there could be some sort of darker magic happening. But even Draco Malfoy couldn’t be worse than You-Know-Who, right? So it must’ve all been a stupid prank.

Molly called them back downstairs for lunch. Lily kissed Harry’s cheek and told him to be good and helpful and she would see him in three days when they all went to Diagon Alley together.

Molly served the boys lunch and Harry had two helpings. Mrs. Weasley’s cooking was so much better than his mother’s. Maybe it came from more practice. He knew that this was not all of Ron’s family and yet the house still felt so crowded. Sure, at Harry’s, Sirius and Uncle Remus came in and out, but the house never felt this full of life.

There was Percy, who appeared just for the meal and disappeared to his room otherwise. Then the twins, who were loud and excitable about everything, and Ron who may not have been loud, but still managed to fill space. Harry loved everything about this house and the people in it.

Mr. Weasley came home in the middle of lunch, which resulted in a greeting as loud and as excitable as when Harry arrived. Fred and George did a lot of shouting and Ron ran to greet him.

They sat down at the table and Mr. Weasley wearily told them about the Ministry raids that had kept him up all night, and Mundungus Fletcher throwing a hex at his back. Molly made him a cup of strong tea and he half-fell asleep in his chair.

“Where’s Ginny?” Harry asked, realizing he hadn’t seen her this whole time. And they were nearly finishing lunch. Ron’s younger sister did live here, didn’t she?

“I dunno,” Ron shrugged and picked his and his dad’s dishes. “She’s usually right on Fred and George’s heels.”

“Is she sick?” Harry grabbed the dishes Ron could not carry and followed Ron into the kitchen.

“Mum says she’s alright.”

Harry wondered if Ginny would play Quidditch with them later. He hadn’t forgotten last year, when Fred and George said she could fly faster than Ron. But he quickly forgot when Ron announced the afternoon’s plans.

“Mum said Fred and George have to de-gnome the garden, but after, they said they’d play Quidditch with us. There’s a good clearing for it in the woods over the hill.”

“De-gnoming the garden sounds fun,” Harry said.

“It really isn’t,” Ron said.

But Harry went to the backyard and Ron followed. Ron showed him how to uproot a gnome and disorient it. Harry felt a bit guilty swinging them around like that, but after one angrily kicked him, he felt less bad. It wasn’t long before he, Ron, Fred, and George, were having almost as much fun as if they had actually been playing Quidditch.

Which turned out to be good, because Molly called them in for dinner at sunset, and it would be too dark to play Quidditch afterwards.

Ginny appeared at the dinner table, but she said very little. Conversation was mostly dominated by Fred and George, bragging about how far they’d gotten their gnomes.

“One bit Harry’s finger,” Fred said with a laugh.

“He threw it nearly fifty feet!” George finished, and the table erupted into laughter, except Percy, who seemed uninterested in the conversation. Even Ginny giggled a little and made eye contact with Harry, but as soon as she seemed to notice they were looking at each other, she gulped down her glass of water so quickly she nearly choked.

Fred and George turned in early — ”You should too, Harry,” Fred said, and George said, “De-gnoming is just so exhausting.”

But Harry did not feel tired at all as he and Ron went upstairs. They stayed up talking, and Ron apologized every time the ghoul would bang on the pipes, but Harry didn’t care.

Just after midnight, there was a quiet knock on the door.

“Sorry, Mum, we’ll keep it down,” Ron said, but Fred and George walked in instead.

“I thought you went to bed,” Harry said and adjusted his glasses.

They grinned wickedly. “Ready for your birthday present from us, Harry?”

[a-moth-to-the-light]

Journal Dump!

Finals ended over a week ago for me, but somehow I'm still feeling the effects (honestly, they're only getting worse). I think about writing for Tumblr a lot--it brings me so much joy!--but fatigue and muscle pain are reaching absolutely ridiculous levels for me, making writing difficult. I think this is because when I get started writing, I feel so wonderful and at peace that I can't imagine stopping, leading to levels of exertion that really aren't good for me. But I also really want to write, so I'm trying to be more careful about that :)

So for today, I'm just going to share some stuff I've jotted down in my personal Discord server over the past few weeks, mostly in my now-just-vents channel, which I use as a diary that I just update whenever I feel like it. I thought these were kind of cool when I looked back at them, so I hope you'll enjoy :)

1. TBL Quotes

So I've mentioned that I'm an avid reader of TheBiasList before, and I'm sure other fans will recognize that in certain elements of my style. I always love Best Of lists, and Nick's Best Songs of 2022 list featured some particulary lovely writing. Nick's writing always gets the job done, but these sentences made me more emotional than they had any right to, which was unexpected and very welcome!

Maybe Forever 1 isn’t fireworks after all. Maybe it’s a confetti drop, flanked by confetti cannons. Whatever the case, there’s a lot to sweep up after the song has finished. Specks of multicolored paper, damp with tears of resilience and joy.

Replay feels deeply, its frayed nerves sewn into every beat.

[link to the entry I got these quotes from]

2. Reader Things

i highlight and sticky-note, yet rarely look back at the stickies i leave in books except to take them out. i suppose i annotate like the person i wish to be, one who combs through pages of annotations for his reading journal, which is full of pretty, aesthetic handwriting.

3. When Life Becomes Livable (cw suicidal ideation & fantasies)

and that's what i'm used to, isn't it? knowing that this can't last long, but that nothing can so i might as well just take what i can get, no matter the cost, before the curtains come down. i'm used to watching for the end, eagle-eyed. i'm used to resigning myself to all that is impossible to live with, all that makes me want to walk forever into the sea. i'm not used to security or livability, so i watch for the end and assume i will not live, even as it begins to dawn on me that i may.

4. Some People Just Don't Care About Trans Kids, and it Fills My Bones With Fear (cw: transphobia)

To Fox News: Do you know how badly I wish to be alive? Understand me.

This was in response to an article I don't have the strength to find, one of those ones about policies that will forcefully out kids to their parents if they disclose their identites at school... For someone as frequently suicidal as myself, this couple of sentences surprised me as I wrote them. But I keep rereading them, and they keep feeling so, so true. It's the new meds, maybe :)

5. Reflections on Life without Religion

But I have a reason to live and progress and reach for those holy moments where life, my own and that of others, feels valuable in a way that rings deep in my chest. I do it all for one who loves and admires and, I dare say, designed me--my past self. Intelligent design? Not always, but sometimes. Certainly sometimes. I do it for her.

If you're curious about my religious affiliantions (really, my lack thereof), I direct you to this post!

6. Ending with Fluffy Music Content

StayC's "Love Fool" reminds me the joy of saying, "I'm excited to see you!"

This song still hasn't become a classic for me--I mean, I just love so many StayC songs so much more--but I've definitely started to see what people see in it!

[benfeldman]

here comes the jackpot question in advance

summary: The one where Dan thought Phil hated him, so he hated Phil right back.

wc: 7.5k

tags: teenager au, new year’s eve, enemies to friends to lovers (in a way)

tws: underaged drinking, swearing (lots of it,,)

a/n: i wrote this lil diddy in the space between christmas and new year’s, aka when time doesnt feel real. my only betas were spellcheck and grammarly so sry if there are mistakes. im a sucker for enemies to lovers and teenager tropes,, what can i say.

read it on ao3 if that’s more your jam

Of all the places in the world, the last place he wants to be seen is McDonald’s. Dan’s exhausted from work and he just wants some chicken nuggets and an iced coffee, some comfort food to get him through the rest of the day. It’s super busy, so the possibility of him seeing someone from school is high, unfortunately, but he’s just come off of work which is killing him slowly so the risk is worth it. While he waits in the queue he mindlessly scrolls through Twitter.

It’s been a pretty fine holiday, as far as things go. Not too exciting, but nothing traumatic or particularly harrowing, either, which in his family is somewhat surprising. And it’s been nice getting to avoid schoolwork and classmates for a while, as the halls of sixth form can be crowded with some right pricks. In fact, there’s one prick in particular he hasn’t missed one bit, and as he sees him on his Twitter feed he’s reminded of how glad he is not to have to be in his presence every day.

The only reason he doesn’t have Phil Lester blocked and muted is because he doesn’t want to seem petty. All of his friends seem to like Phil just fine, but they also know that Dan isn’t exactly his number one fan. However, the last thing Dan wants is to cause drama where there doesn’t need to be, and a single tap of the ‘block’ icon could put him in a world of unnecessary trouble. But that doesn’t change the fact that Dan Howell, from the bottom of his heart, hates Phil Lester.

Though, surprisingly, no one else seems to. It seems like Dan’s the only one who can see past his persona of Mr. Perfectly Quirky and Funny and into who he really is. He’s not that funny, and he acts like he’s the smartest kid in the entire world but surely, he must not know everything, despite his best attempts to make everyone think so. Seriously, he’s always the first to raise his hand in chem, spewing facts left and right, which makes him the worst lab partner in the entire world. Phil always has to double check Dan’s work even though he’s right on all his arithmetic ninety-five percent of the time, he always makes some comment about how Dan’s handwriting is getting messier by the week, and worst of all, he’s never wrong. That’s what sucks about it. Phil Lester is never wrong. He’s perfect.

And he makes Dan feel like an idiot. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going out of his way to purposely paint Dan as this huge moron, which he knows he isn’t, but it’s hard not to feel that way around Phil. Perfect Phil, with the perfect hair and perfect life and the brightest eyes and the best jokes, who always manages to make Dan trip over his words and say the wrong thing, something stupid. He's always quick to point out Dan’s mistakes. Which, obviously, makes him feel great.

Yeah, well, out of sight, out of mind. Dan scrolls past and tries not to think about him. Why do people even retweet his stuff, anyways? He’s not that funny, but the whole school seems to think he’s some sort of comedy king or something, which gets old really fast, in Dan’s opinion. He’s a smartass, that’s what he is.

Dan finally gets his order in and moves to the side to wait for his food, when the voice he least expected to hear sounds from behind him.

“Dan?”

Sure enough, Dan turns around, and Phil sort of materializes before him, in a hoodie and skinny jeans and, funnily enough, glasses. Dan’s not a confrontational person. He’s not. Never has been. He tends to internalize his seething rage against Phil. Usually, it works. “Hi there,” Dan replies, and thus continues his long list of dumb things he says in front of Phil.

“Small world, eh?”

Dan shrugs. “I suppose.”

Silence. Then, “You getting food?”

“Yep.” Dan takes a breath. “You?”

“Yeah. But not for me. My brother’s been a bit under the weather since boxing day and he asked that I go get him some extra crappy food to help him feel better.”

Of course Phil’s not getting McDonald’s for himself. He’s way too perfect, way too healthy, for that. When doesn’t he have a pedestal to stand on? “Cool,” Dan says instead. “I mean, not about your brother. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Phil laughs. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. How’s your break been?”

“Alright. A bit dull, I guess. But sometimes it’s better if nothing happens rather than something bad, right?”

“I agree. You never know when loose cannon racist Uncle Joe is gonna ruin Christmas dinner, right?”

“I’ve been there one too many times.”

“Same.”

Could it be true? Could Dan actually be getting through a conversation with Phil Lester without making a fool of himself or wanting to strangle him to death or both? Only time would tell, he reasons, but still. So far, so okay. “Get anything good for Christmas?” Phil asks.

“My brother and I got a Switch for Christmas, and we’ve both been playing it a lot. At least, when I’m not at work.”

Phil gasps. “No way! We did too!”

“That’s awesome,” Dan replies, a grin spreading across his face. “What games do you have?”

“So far we’ve just got Super Mario Odyssey, but we also really wanna get the new Zelda game so my brother can play it before he has to go back to uni.”

“I hear it’s amazing,” says Dan. “We want to get that as well.”

“Maybe if we both play it we can compare notes and stuff.”

“Yeah, maybe.” This is easily one of the longest conversations he’s ever had with Phil, and certainly the only one where he didn’t feel like self-destructing out of pure annoyance at Phil’s stupid face. The longest he’d gone without seeming like a massive idiot. Maybe there’s something about Phil wearing glasses that makes him easier to get on with.

“So, any New Year’s plans?”

“Well, I’m going to my friend Chris’ for New Year’s Eve. Since his birthday is so close, he always has a party then.” Okay, Dan, stop talking. It always really bothered him when people talked about their plans in front of others who weren’t invited. “It’s gonna be super cool, you should totally come, I mean, if you don’t have plans.” What the fuck are you doing? “He’s gonna have alcohol and stuff, too, and it’ll be legal, well, for him at least, and obviously he’ll have, like, real food too.” Are you done now, moron? “Anyways, yeah, I’m sure he’d be happy to have you, if you were interested. I mean, you probably already have stuff planned, I’m sure.” He waits for his dumb tongue to stop betraying him, and eventually, he really does stop talking, exhaling slowly. Dan, one day your mouth is going to get you killed.

Phil raises his eyebrows, but he wears a huge grin. “That sounds like fun, Dan. I’ll totally come.”

Well, Dan was eventually bound to do or say something stupid, right? It wouldn’t be a real conversation with Phil unless it ended with Phil’s superior smirk and Dan’s sinking feeling of inadequacy. “Great, cool, see you then,” Dan says. Oh my god, you fucking idiot.

“Phil!” a guy from the front counter announces.

“Oh, that’ll be my food,” Phil says, still wearing the same stupid grin on his stupid face. He pushes through the small crowd and examines his bag. Dan, in the meantime, stares back at his phone. What did he just do? It’s not as though he has a great track record for getting along with Phil, and the last thing he wants to do is ruin his friend’s party. And besides, since when did he have permission to invite random people from school to any of his friend’s parties, birthday or otherwise? Was it not a teeny bit presumptuous of him to say ‘Oh Chris won’t mind another person in his flat, where he’ll have to accommodate more space for you as well as getting even more food and drinks?’ This was a mistake. Maybe it’s not too late to rescind the invitation, to make up a fake story about how the party isn’t happening anymore. “This yours?” Phil asks, pulling Dan out of his thoughts. He hands him a bag and a coffee.

Dan grimaces. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“You must not have heard your name,” he explains. “It was next to mine, so I just picked it up.”

“Cheers,” Dan replies, but all he wants to do is melt into the floor and forget the past five minutes ever happened.

“Well, I’ve gotta run,” says Phil. “But I’ll see you New Year’s Eve, yeah?”

Now or never, Howell. “Uh, yeah. Great.”

“Cool. Bye, then!” He flashes Dan one last friendly smile before leaving. Of course, on top of it all, he gets the last word.

---

Since there’s not a lot Dan can do about it now, the next day he rings Chris to tell him about his grave mistake, to at least attempt to be a better friend.

“What’s up?” greets Chris upon answering. “Still coming to the party tomorrow, right?”

“About that,” Dan replies, biting his nails. “I kinda invited someone yesterday, is that okay? I know space can be tight but I promise I didn’t really mean to, and if you say no it’s fine, I just--”

“Dan, I’m gonna stop you right there.” He can practically hear the smirk in Chris’ voice, and he already feels a bit daft. “You’re totally fine, I promise. The more the merrier. Who’d you invite, if I might ask?”

Deep breaths. There’s no way he can phrase this without sounding like an idiot, so he might as well bite the bullet now. “Uh, you know Phil Lester, right?”

Chris actually laughs, which Dan half expected, because everyone knows they don’t like each other. Although, to be fair, he didn’t think Chris cared. “That’s who you invited?” he manages to choke out between giggles.

“Yeah, I know, shocker. Like I said, I didn’t mean to, I just felt bad because I mentioned you and stuff. It’s okay if you say no.”

“I didn’t, uh.” Chris stops. He releases another little giggle before continuing. “I didn’t mean to laugh, at least, not at you.”

“Oh, gee, thanks.” Dan rolls his eyes, though Chris obviously can’t see.

“It’s just kinda funny, because I already invited him, and as far as I know he already said he was coming.”

Dan’s eyes widen. “What the fuck?” he says, before he can stop himself. “I mean, no. Sorry, that’s not what I meant. Why did you invite him?”

“I dunno, we have Lit together and we got to talking about the break and I invited him to my party. Why did you invite him?”

“I already told you, it was a complete accident, and obviously I didn’t know he was already coming, otherwise I wouldn’t have, clearly.” Dear Christ, was he doomed to make a fool of himself every single time he was in front of Phil? Maybe the safest course of action would be to just never say anything to him or in front of him ever again. That still left the possibility of him physically doing something stupid, but at least he could minimize the damage.

“Well, either way, Phil’s already coming, so no need to worry. Anyone else you want to invite who I invited myself? PJ maybe? Or Hazel?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Dan responds through gritted teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Great! See ya!” Chris hangs up, and Dan can hear him laughing.

It doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t Phil say anything yesterday? Did he derive pleasure in seeing Dan make an idiot of himself? How was Dan supposed to know he and Chris were friends? It wasn’t fair, it so wasn’t fair. Can Dan not have just one day where he doesn’t make a complete joke of himself?

No, not where Phil’s involved. As long as Phil is there, Dan isn’t safe from being the laughingstock of the universe.

---

December thirty first comes around, and a big part of Dan wants to just pretend he’s sick and stay home, because he can’t stand to be around Phil or even Chris, frankly, after embarrassing himself so profusely. But that would only make him seem like a coward, and Chris would make some smartass remark to Phil and make Dan seem foolish without him even being there, so he drudges himself over to Chris’ flat, despite his wishes, and hopes for the best. For all the good that’ll do him.

Dan buzzes into Chris’ place (by now he knows the code) and treks up the stairs. Chris answers the door before he can knock and shouts, “Dan! I’m so glad you could make it!” He leads him inside. “Everyone! Dan is here!”

‘Everyone’ shouts a chorus of slurred hoorays. So the drinking has already commenced. He greets a few people, saying hi to Hazel and PJ and Louise who are deep in a very loud conversation about the new Star Wars movie, and Tom and Jack, who are locked in perhaps the most intense game of go fish Dan’s ever seen. He gets some crisps and migrates over to the couch, where he collapses. He’d been working all day long; he’s actually kind of exhausted, and doesn’t feel like socializing, especially considering how sober he is compared to everyone else. He closes his eyes. It’s too much right now.

“Hey, stranger.” Dan opens his eyes and there sits Phil, on the other side of the sofa. Great. Just what he fucking needed right now.

“Hi,” he replies.

“You seem tired.”

“I was working overtime today. I kinda don’t want to be here, if I’m honest.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Phil says, and he smiles, and it’s so genuine, too genuine, just like everything Phil does, so overly thoughtful and perfect. “Get the new Zelda game?”

“Haven’t had time.”

Phil nods. “Me neither.”

Here’s what Dan doesn’t get: Why is Phil being so nice to him all of a sudden? He usually teases Dan for getting answers wrong in class or in the labs or for his messy penmanship or whatever else he chooses after spinning the things-to-make-fun-of-dan-for wheel. He’s the basic definition of a walking dick, though no one else seems to see that, and he has no reason to be nice to Dan. So, what’s changed? Maybe he’s still feeling post-holiday forgiveness or good tidings or whatever else. Maybe he’s planning to lure Dan into a false sense of security before yelling at him for his dumb hair that he didn’t feel like straightening or his old car or the fact that he foolishly invited him to Chris’ house even though he already had every intention of going. Or maybe you think too much.

“Is work going okay?” asks Phil.

“I suppose. It’s not fun but it could be worse, and at the end of the day, a paycheck’s a paycheck. Can’t complain.”

“Right.” Phil smiles. They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the music. At any moment, their truce could come toppling down, Dan realizes. “Thanks for inviting me, by the way.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, Chris told me you were already coming, so.”

Phil smiles sheepishly, looking down at his shoes. “He did?”

“Yep. Thanks for the memo, by the way. Would have been nice to know before I, ya know, invited you to a party you were already going to, like a moron.” And just like that, the truce has ended.

“Hey! In my defense, I was really surprised that you did that, and I had no idea what to say, because it was really nice of you.” He shakes his head a little bit. “I just kind of went along with it. You weren’t, I mean, it wasn’t…” he stops. “It wasn’t moronic. Not at all. It was sweet.”

“Oh, that makes me feel loads better,” Dan scoffs. “Look, next time you wanna make a fool out of me, at least have the dignity to tell me to my face that I’m being an idiot.” Christ, he didn’t mean to sound like such an asshole. Why can’t you ever say anything right?

And, what’s worse, Phil actually looks hurt. “You weren’t a fool,” he insists. “You aren’t one, okay? And that wasn’t my intention at all.”

Right, Dan, there’s your cue to shut up now. “Oh, really? Because it feels like every time I talk you, all you want to do is make me feel like I’m nothing, like I’m a fucking idiot. So, excuse me if I thought this was just another one of your secret schemes to turn me into the laughingstock of the century.” He knows he needs to stop talking, but a huge part of him feels good for finally standing up to Phil for once in his life.

“I’ve never purposely tried to make you feel like an idiot, Dan, I promise.” His voice remains surprisingly even. “I’m sorry if you felt that way.”

Dan stares at the floor, hoping if he says nothing he can’t possibly say the wrong thing. “Me, a secret schemer?” Phil continues. “Honestly? You’re the one who doesn’t like me, Dan. I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we met but you don’t want to accept it, for whatever reason. Did you honestly think I was trying to trick you, or something?” Great. Perfect. Dan the Fucking Idiot strikes again. “Okay, whatever, don’t respond to me. But I wish we could be friends, Dan. You make up all these stories in your head about how much I hate you or whatever but they’re not true. They’re so far from the truth.”

“Well, great, I’m still the idiot, then.” Dan sighs and sinks into the cushions. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“No, I’m sorry, Dan,” replies Phil. “I’m sorry for lying to you about the party. Believe me, I was the one who felt like an idiot afterwards. I was way too awkward to tell you the truth so I kind of just didn’t say anything and hoped for the best. Which clearly didn’t work.”

Dan actually smiles at that, just a bit. “No, it did not,” he agrees.

“Can we just, like, start over?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Come on,” Phil prompts, sitting up. “Let’s go get something to drink. You look like you need it.”

Dan rubs his eyes and rises to his feet. “You have no idea.”

---

So it takes Dan vodka and coke to warm up to the idea of maybe being friends with Phil, but who could blame him? Everything’s happening so fast; Phil’s dragging him to the kitchen and talking to him like a pal as if the past ten minutes, or even the past few months, haven’t happened. Phil pours the bottle of vodka into a cup of soda and asks Dan what his favorite TV shows are and it makes no sense.

They’re too different, Dan always thought. That’s why they never got on, because they were so different they had no hope of ever understanding each other. It was a fruitless quest. But maybe they’re not. Phil gets a refill on his drink as well and laughs a bit and remarks that he forgot to ask Dan what he wanted, he just assumed he’d have the same thing Phil was having. Dan assures him that it’s fine and this is probably what he would have made for himself too and, maybe they’re not that different.

They move back to the couch and try to ignore the fact that everyone’s staring at them, and Dan really can’t blame them as they did just kind of have a loud fight a few minutes ago. The first sip of the drink doesn’t go down well, it never does, but it gets easier and easier and pretty soon Dan’s already starting to feel better. He knows this can’t last, because he has to drive home in about four and a half hours but for now he can pretend like the future isn’t coming. Instead of thinking about that, he and Phil just talk, they just sit on the couch and talk and it feels different and nice. That’s what he really can’t get over, most of all. Who knew Phil would actually turn out to be a nice person?

After a while, Chris decides to turn his music up, and Dan and Phil kind of have to shout at each other to be heard. “Okay, so can I just ask,” Phil starts, frowning slightly. “Why, uh, why don’t you like me? Or why didn’t you like me?”

Not really the question Dan wanted to hear, after trying to turn his opinion about Phil around. “I don’t dislike you.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.”

Dan sighs. “Fine. It’s because you don’t like me.”

“I like you,” he insists. “I’ve always liked you.”

“You don’t really act like it.”

That stops Phil short. “Well, in my defense, you’re pretty easy to tease about stuff.”

“Hey!” Dan exclaims. “That’s not very nice.”

“Trust me, it’s not a bad thing.” Phil smiles a little bit. He’s got a nice smile. He should do that more often. “I only do it because…”

“Because why?”

“Because nothing.” He crosses his arms. “Be serious, why don’t you like me?”

Dan frowns. “Well, okay, it’s just, like…” Don’t mess this up, don’t mess this up. “You’re just so fucking perfect, like all the time. You come here and you’re the new kid but you make friends effortlessly because you’re perfect and you’re smart and always say the right answers in chem which infuriates me because I used to be that kid that always knew everything but you waltzed into class and you were always right and suddenly I knew nothing . Every single day you come to class, you make me feel so stupid because you’re so smart and your hair is perfectly straight and exactly what I wish my hair looked like, and you’re just as tall, if not taller than me but you manage to make it look good, and you’re always up there on your high horse and I feel inadequate around you all the time. And it, like, never made sense to me that other people couldn’t see how too perfect you are.”

It all comes out in a complete rush, before Dan can stop himself. Instantly he knows he’s overshared, as Phil winces when Dan looks at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “I’m not perfect,” Phil finally says. “I can’t believe you think I’m perfect.”

“Well, can you blame me? I mean, look at yourself. You weren’t even at McDonald’s for you, you were getting food for your brother. Kind, thoughtful, healthy and conscientious Phil.”

Phil just shakes his head. “I can’t believe that’s why you don’t like me, because I’m too ‘perfect.’” He does air quotes around that last word.

“Whatever,” Dan mumbles. “I feel embarrassed even though I also feel like I’m right.”

“I’m furthest thing from perfect,” Phil protests. “I swear.”

“Okay, name one imperfection of yours, I dare you.”

“Fine.” Phil crosses his arms, accepting the challenge. “That day, when I went to McDonald’s. It, I…” He takes a sip of his drink before continuing. “Well, my brother wanted food, but my mom wouldn’t get it for him, and he doesn’t trust me to drive around anymore so he drove the car there, but waited in the parking lot for me to get the food, because he didn’t want to come inside himself.”

“What’s your point?”

“My parents won’t let me drive anymore, because I’ve failed my driving test three times and one time I was driving around and almost got in an accident because I’m literally the shittiest driver in the entire universe.” He sighs, and glances at Dan. “So. Strike one. I’m not perfect.”

“To be fair, no one passes their driving test the first time around. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Okay. Fine. I wear contacts.”

“Yeah, well, I already guessed that. I saw you in glasses, remember?”

Phil’s face turns a brilliant shade of pink. “Oh, right.”

“And you looked cute in glasses, so, whatever, that doesn’t count as an imperfection. Try again.”

He thinks for a moment, then, “I dye my hair.”

“What?” Dan gasps.

“Yeah. I’m naturally a ginger but I look horrendous so, I dye it like once a month. It’s kind of embarrassing.” He takes another sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that.”

“Well, it looks great. I had no idea.”

“I’m only telling you that because I’m not sober, just so you know.”

“I’ll take it.”

Phil smiles. “But speaking of hair, I didn’t know yours was curly.”

“Oh,” Dan replies, cheeks turning red. “I didn’t have time to straighten it before going to work, and then I just couldn’t be bothered, so.” He self consciously brushes his fringe out of his eyes.

“I think it looks great.”

“Thanks.” He takes a sip. “Well, anyways, you get my point, right? You’re frustratingly perfect. It makes me want to strangle you sometimes.”

“You’ve completely misjudged me, Howell. I’m so far from perfect.”

He’s almost finished with his drink so he’s feeling extra brave, and before he knows it, he blurts, “Well, what do you think of me? You know, so I can also prove your misconceptions about me wrong.”

“I dunno. I think you’re really funny, you’ve got a sort of dark sense of humor that I like, and you’re also super passionate about your opinions, which I appreciate. Even when those opinions happen to be regarding your deep hatred of me.”

“Look,” Dan tries to defend, but Phil isn’t hearing any of it.

“No, it’s okay. You wear your heart on your sleeve. And you care an awful lot. That’s not nothing. I admire that about you.”

Dan’s heart stops in its tracks. His stomach churns. “I’m such an idiot,” he mutters to himself.

“Why, Dan?”

“I really thought you hated me,” he says quietly, wishing he could disappear.

“No, I don’t hate you, Dan. I feel like I know you, ya know? Like, I just have this feeling, like, I look at you and I know who you are. I wish I had that ability, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you clearly had me all completely wrong in your head. But I can just see you for you. I know that you’re passionate and loyal and compelling and--”

“Guys!” Chris shouts from behind their place on the couch. “We’re about to play cards against humanity, and you have to play. Also you’re not allowed to say no because it’s my birthday.”

They begrudgingly sit around the dining table, with their friends who are all decidedly at least twice as drunk as Dan and Phil are, which is fine, but maybe a slight bit alienating. Dan’s tipsy, sure, but he’s not flat-out drunk, mostly because he has to drive home but also because he hasn’t eaten anything all day and the last thing he needs is to throw up at his friend’s place. Especially since Phil’s there, and, yeah, he really needs one more reason to feel like an idiot in front of him. But, Phil doesn’t think of him as an idiot, in a strange turn of events. He’s not one hundred percent sure that he believes him, but why would he lie?

“Do you guys need a refill?” Hazel asks them, nodding to their almost empty cups.

“I’m good, thanks,” Dan says. “I’m driving, so.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself. Phil?”

“I’m alright.”

“God, do you two even know how to have fun?” She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, more for us fun people.”

Hazel makes her leave to the kitchen to refill her drink and Phil laughs a little. The sight makes Dan’s heart rate speed up a little; Phil sticks his tongue out of his mouth and his eyes crinkle in the perfect way and all of his teeth show and okay, okay, why is he thinking like this right now? What just happened to make him notice something like that, something so trivial and inconsequential? Why has Dan never noticed that Phil’s eyes aren’t actually blue, but they’re blue and green and gold and they kind of look like a kaleidoscope?

He has to turn his mindset back around before it’s too late. “What, Goody Two Shoes Phil doesn’t want to get drunk?” Dan teases.

“Yeah, well, my parents are already mad enough at me as it is. I don’t need another reason to upset them.”

“Why are they upset with you?”

“They’re just…” He sighs. “I guess they’re not mad, they just really didn’t want me to come here, because they’re frustrated that they have to come pick me up and drive me home so late, and I guess I just feel bad, because we usually spend today together, and like, I turn eighteen in a month so it’s gonna be legal for me to drink soon, but they don’t want me to until I’m nineteen, which is bullshit, but they’re my parents, so.”

“Guys!” Chris shouts, interrupting their conversation. “Have either of you played your cards yet?”

“Fuck, sorry,” Dan apologizes. He picks a random card about George Clooney and passes it down. Phil follows suit. Chris begins to read out the cards he has, but Dan is barely listening. “I can take you home,” Dan says quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?” Phil asks.

“Positive.”

“Okay. I’ll text my parents.” The group laughs hysterically at one of the answers, bringing them back to reality.

“Right, I’m picking this one,” Chris announces. “Who played it?” Louise proudly raises her hand, and everyone claps.

Even though the game continues, Dan and Phil don’t really pay attention, lost in conversation with each other. It’s a bit hard to hear over the noise of drunk teens yelling dirty jokes at each other, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Dan feels relaxed around Phil for the first time ever, and maybe it’s the vodka but that’s starting to wear off in all honesty and it more just feels like Phil’s a generally nice person and he’s been missing out on him and his company since September when they met. It takes them about ten minutes to realize no one’s actually playing the game anymore and they’re instead just finding their favorite cards in the pack, trying to make each other laugh. They quietly sneak off back to the couch to continue to talk and no one seems to mind. It’s like he’s been missing Phil his whole life, like the moment they start to just talk he’s picking up from where they left off, even though really they never even started, not really.

Maybe Phil Lester the jerk wasn’t such a jerk after all.

---

Eventually, the group moves to the living room and puts on a movie, crowding the space that was previously just being occupied by Dan and Phil. But Dan doesn’t really mind, and anyways the more he talks to Phil the more he realizes that maybe his feelings of hatred were a bit misguided or maybe they were disguising themselves as hatred because he couldn’t face the truth. Now there’s something he’s really afraid to consider.

Phil gets up from his self-proclaimed spot on the couch to go to the bathroom at around eleven, when people are starting to get either drunker or more sober, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and ring in the new year. PJ takes this opportunity to slide over to press up against Dan, a huge grin on his face.

“What’s up, Daniel?” he asks. He smells overwhelmingly of vodka.

“Not much, excited for the new year, I guess.”

PJ waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “You gonna go for it?”

“Go for what?”

“Oh my god, you’re absolutely daft. Everyone knows of the tradition of kissing someone exactly at midnight on New Year’s Day, right?”

Dan freezes. “I… Who…”

“This is your chance, Dan. He likes you, I promise, just go for it.”

“Okay, you keep saying that, but I still don’t know what you’re referring to.” Though, obviously, he does. “Peej, you’re super drunk right now.”

“And you’re not?” He laughs. “You should be!”

“I have to drive myself home.”

He pulls a face. “So?”

“Right, let’s get you some water, you goof.”

He gets up to go to the kitchen and pour him a cup of water from the fridge, and when he comes back to the living room Phil’s back, deep in conversation with Hazel. He tries his best to ignore the pang of jealousy in his gut because Seriously, are you fucking kidding me? One minute you hate him and the next you don’t want anyone else to look his way? Maybe he’s always felt that way, like there’s always been some kind of underlying jealousy. But jealousy of what? His personality? His hair? His ability to make friends with all of Dan’s friends but somehow be better at it?

“Here you go, Peej,” Dan says, handing him the cup.

“I don’t want it,” he whines in response, but Dan practically forces it down his throat. He makes eye contact with Phil as he attempts to shove the cup into PJ’s hand, and Phil smiles at him and his heart explodes a little bit and, yeah, you’re an absolute gonner.

“Do it, Dan,” PJ whispers into his ear. “Do it for me, if nothing else.”

“Drink your water and I’ll think about it, arsehole.”

It works. PJ sits up straight and practically chugs the whole thing in an instant, earning him a satisfied pat on the back from Dan. He doesn’t mind playing the mom friend at parties, in fact, it makes him feel good. If he can save someone from dying of alcohol poisoning, he can justify coming to this party.

“Dan!” Phil gestures for Dan to sit next to him, as Hazel’s gotten up to get snacks.

“Having fun?” Dan asks, eyebrows raised. He’s pretty sober as far as things go but he still feels like his brain is going a bit haywire which is just great, just brilliant, because that confirms everything and why does this have to happen here, at a party in front of all his friends, on the most cliche night of the year, with music from the movie on TV swelling and laughter and drinks and it’s all just so much, it’s way too much for him right now. And seriously, of all people, Phil? Like, why couldn’t it be someone he knew and actually tolerated?

“Did you hear me, Dan?” Phil asks, bringing him back to reality.

Brilliant, fucking brilliant. What was it about Phil that always made him feel like he was one step behind, all the time? “Sorry, no, what did you say?” Seriously, can God just come smite me where I stand already?

“I said I’m having a great time. Your friends are super cool.”

“Glad you think so.” Can this not happen, please? Not now.

“And you aren’t so bad yourself.” Phil winks, and seriously, Dan feels like a year four, like a child in primary school, with a secret crush and a secret diary full of unsent love letters and this cannot be happening.

“Thanks, Phil.”

“So, any resolutions for the new year?” Phil asks.

“No, not really. What’s the point of making them if you can’t stick to them?”

Phil shrugs. “You never know until you try, right?”

“Okay, fine, what’s your resolution then?”

Phil thinks for a moment, then says, “To just be more authentic. To live a more honest version of myself, whatever that means for me. No unrealistic or unattainable goals. Just, not try to hide or fix myself in front of others. However it happens.”

Dan laughs in spite of himself. “A bit too meta for me, but the sentiment is there, I suppose.”

“I think New Year’s resolutions are fun to make, even if you don’t end up sticking to them. It’s the thought that counts, really.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about. Everything you say, it’s perfect. How do you do it?”

“What can I say? I must be born with it.” He does a fake flip of his hair and giggles. Phil needs to stop fucking giggling because it’s driving Dan insane, it’s contagious and it makes Dan laugh right along with him. Phil makes him feel so safe and warm and like he’s Dan’s missing piece and every other cliche the world has to offer him but fuck it, it’s true. And maybe he’s just completely misreading the signals and maybe Phil still secretly hates him and maybe Phil’s straight as a stick (though to be fair Dan used to think he was so that means nothing) but if he can’t say it now, when can he?

“Phil, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Dan.”

His confidence is dwindling by the nanosecond. “You’re not mad at me for being a dick to you for months, right?” Justsayitjustsayitjustsayitjustsayit--

“No, of course not. How could I be mad at you? I’m mad at myself, if anything, for being a dick to you.”

Dan opens his mouth to speak, but his words die in his throat and he knows he needs to just say it but nothing is happening.

“I wasn’t doing it with any malicious intent,” Phil continues. “It’s just that being nice to you didn’t seem to work, and it was the only other way I could think to get you to talk to me.”

“And why…” His voice is close to failing him. “Why would you want that?”

“Well, I--”

“Guys!” Chris shouts, interrupting them. “It’s eleven forty-five! Almost midnight! I’m breaking out the champagne! Come help me!”

Phil rolls his eyes and gets up with the rest of the party, which is moving to the kitchen to break out the grand finale of alcohols, the champagne. Dan tries not to feel disappointed, but then again, perhaps this is a sign. Chris pops open the bottle and everyone cheers and PJ brings him glasses. Jack helps to pass them out to everyone and Dan takes his, even though he has no intention of actually drinking it.

Chris changes the channel so they can watch the countdown live with the rest of Britain and Dan’s nerves go completely haywire. Everyone’s crowding around the TV and anticipation buzzes in the air and the guy on TV announces that there’s two minutes left until the new year begins and Phil’s on the other side of the room now and his heart hurts a bit. He puts his cup down on the side table to resist temptation. One minute left. He feels someone brush the back of his hand and it’s Phil and time slows down and the people around him fall away.

The countdown is happening around him. He locks eyes with Phil and he’s pretty sure someone just shoved a party popper into his hand but he really doesn’t care. Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen… Phil grabs his hand. Okay, okay, breathe, you need to remember to breathe, don’t fucking pass out for the love of all that is holy. Ten, nine, eight…

Now or never, Dan. Now or never. Now or never.

Five, Phil pulls him closer.

Four, Dan moves his hands to Phil’s waist.

Three, Phil moves his hands to the back of Dan’s head.

Two, Dan leans in. Or maybe Phil does. Or maybe--

One.

Shouts of joy, the mini explosions of party poppers, and choruses of “Happy New Year!” fill the room, and Dan kisses Phil. He feels soft and warm and they fit together so perfectly, and Dan pulls him impossibly close to his body and wow, why didn’t they do this sooner? It feels like fireworks, like the fireworks that are currently going off on TV, and it’s everything he could have imagined only magnified by about a million. It’s perfect. Perfect, just like Phil.

Applause erupts. Dan and Phil finally break away and see that everyone seems to be cheering for them. He completely forgot that there were other people in the room that could see them and now everyone knew. Awesome. Phil giggles and breaks the embrace, squeezing Dan’s hand instead. He’s completely and utterly mortified.

“About bloody time,” Chris remarks, shaking his head.

Dan scoffs. “Mind your own damn business.”

“Stop making out in front of everyone!” retorts Chris.

“What, we weren’t,” Dan stutters, but Phil just smiles and squeezes his hand again. Somehow, it’s not making Dan feel any better.

“Oh, leave them alone,” Louise scoffs at her friends, and soon their attention turns back to the TV, though they don’t stop laughing. Phil peers at Dan from behind his fringe and Dan can’t help but push it back a little and he can’t stop smiling and he knows he’s gone all red from embarrassment but he’s still on cloud nine. He kissed Phil. Or maybe Phil kissed him. Now he can’t really remember. It doesn’t matter, probably.

Party poppers explode and glasses clink and Dan kisses Phil again and nothing has felt more perfect in his whole life. He tastes like vodka and sugar cookies and Dan probably tastes the same and how could he have ever thought a thought as stupid as hating Phil Lester?

Phil laughs a bit, and pulls away. “My phone’s ringing,” he explains apologetically. He pulls it out of his pocket. “Fuck. It’s my mum.”

“Oh.” Dan takes a step back. “You should get that.”

Phil accepts the call while Dan sits back down on the couch. Around him, his friends start to clean up the flat. He hasn’t had a lot of time to process what just happened but now he can. Though, it’s fruitless, as he can barely believe any of this just happened.

Phil curls up next to him. “No… Mum, don’t worry… I don’t… Yes, he’s gonna take me home… I promise… Okay. Love you.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “Bye.”

A ghost of a smile remains on his face, but his eyes have lost their sparkle. “My mom wants me to come home,” he announces. “Do you still want to take me?”

“Yeah. Not like I still need to be here.”

“You’re sure you’ll be okay to drive and stuff?”

“I swear.”

“Positive?”

Dan leans in and plants a kiss on Phil’s nose. “Let’s go.”

Phil smiles and blushes. Dan’s never seen him so soft before. He’s still perfect, though. Still perfect. “Okay,” Phil whispers. “Okay.”

On their way out, Dan swears he can hear Chris whisper to PJ, “My work here is done.”

---

“Come on, slowpoke!” Dan shouts from his car, leaning on the horn. No response. Figures, the guy takes about a half hour at least to straighten his hair. And besides, he liked to make Dan wait. Annoying, since it was Dan doing him a favor and Dan asking for nothing in return. But then Phil comes bounding down the stairs and pulls the passenger’s door open.

“Right. Let’s go,” Phil commands, slamming the door shut.

“Yes sir,” replies Dan.

“Alright, alright, lose the attitude.”

“I’m your school chauffeur, I can act however I like.” He backs out of the driveway and speeds down the road to school. “By the way, we’re late. Again.”

“We’ll be fine.” He leans over the dashboard and gives Dan a peck on the cheek. “Better?”

“Marginally.”

“Whatever. You’re no fun.” Phil fake-pouts, crossing his arms and staring out the window.

Dan concentrates on the road in front of him, but a grin appears on the corner of his mouth. “I think what you meant to say was, ‘Thank you, my wonderful, beautiful, attractive boyfriend, for driving me to school every day, how could I ever repay you.’”

“As soon as I get my license, I am never driving in a car with you ever again.”

“Good to know you’ll always ride with me, then.”

Phil scoffs. “I’m telling you, the fourth time’s the charm.”

“Whatever you say, Lester.”

They’re both quiet for a bit, watching blocks and blocks of flats go by. “Thank you, Dan.”

“For what?”

Phil shrugs. “Everything?” Dan glances at him, and God he’s so beautiful, it almost hurts. Even in the early morning sun, it’s like looking into the night sky, into an entire galaxy.

“Ditto,” Dan replies. They’re almost to school, with only five minutes to spare.

“Ugh, don’t get all sappy on me.”

“What can I say? I’m a poet.”

Dan parks the car and turns to face Phil properly. They kiss, a real one this time. It’s warm. Phil pulls away slightly. “We’re actually going to be late, though.” He grabs his backpack and opens the car door.

“Your fault,” Dan replies, doing the same.

“I can live with that.”

“Yeah.” Dan leans across the car to kiss Phil one last time. “Me too.”