#but unfortunately for you i decided to hold them in a public space lmao

[muirmarie]

these are from different stories, but can I just say how nice it feels to have the words coming - not easy, per se, but definitely easier than they have the last couple of years?? i am definitely having more fun, put it that way. i think i get too in my head sometimes re: trying to make something good, and forget to just personally have fun with the process without worrying about the result. and the worst is that i'm actually confident in my writing! so it's not that i'm worried about creating something not good, tbh, just. not perfect. oof it's the perfection thing again isn't it. of course it is. ughhhh.

ANYWAY. these (again from different stories) made me giggle:

“Wooing? No, no, Mr. Spock, I don't believe Dr. McCoy would take too well to being wooed. That's why I intend to trick him into a relationship with us.”

“I did try to evacuate the ship, Captain. They...” Scotty winces, “they may have committed a wee mutiny. Although as I was already committing a wee mutiny, I suspect the two might actually cancel out.”

[brookefm-a]

( twenty one , cis woman , she/her )  ✉ ― hey babes, have you met BROOKE MORENO. they’re vacationing here, a few villas down from where you’re staying. you might hear COCAINE MODEL BY ZHU playing from their villa, it’s their favourite song. yes, they hear that they look like ISABELLE MATHERS alot, actually - it’s really uncanny. their friends back home in MANHATTAN, NY say that if they were on a tv show, their trope would be THE STEPFORD SNARKER , how funny is that? ✎ ley , nineteen , she/her , est.

hi besties !! it’s ley here with this extremely chaotic  &  unhinged intro ! it’s truly an absolute disaster even after i spent an hour trying to make it better :)) anyways , i’ve decided to drop venice ( rip to real one ) bc i’ve just really lost muse  &  i’ve been so busy recently that i can’t handle two muses !! this is obviously a repost ( with a few very minor updates ) so feel free to completely ignore this .... but if you don’t , proceed with caution bc this is a mess. 

𝐈  . 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬  :

FULL  NAME   :  brooklyn paige guiliana moreno  . NICKNAMES   :  just brooke .... her childhood nickname was peanut but call her that and you will receive a christian louboutin heel to the crotch . AGE  :   twenty - one   .     DATE  OF  BIRTH   :  august 4th  .     ASTROLOGY  SIGN   :  leo   .     GENDER   :  cis  woman   .     SEXUAL  ORIENTATION   :  bisexual  .   PRONOUNS   :  she  /  her  /  hers   .   OCCUPATION  :  socialite , model , influencer . HOMETOWN  :  manhattan , new york  . EYE  COLOR   :  green   .     HAIR   :  brunette , naturally wavy but she straightens or curls it every day. MOTHER  :  nadia moreno . FATHER  :  lorenzo moreno . SIBLINGS  :  caleb moreno . POSITIVE  TRAITS   :  gregarious  ,  freewheeling  ,  intuitive  ,  altruistic  ,  vehement .   NEGATIVE TRAITS  :  irascible , temerarious , capricious , covetous , flighty . AESTHETICS   :   hearts drawn on fogged glass , a golden ring on every finger , sunlight beaming through the curtains in the early morning , ruination spilling from cherry stained lips , lipstick stains on old vanity mirrors , sundays spent entangled within egyptian cotton sheets , overflowing glasses of bubbly , heels clicking against a marble floor , a honey toned voice spewing harsh words , cheeks stained a shade of natural peach , tanned skin against white sheets . CHARACTER INSP  :  idk what it is w me and always picking my childhood icons as inspo.... anyways , brooke is mainly based off of alex russo  &  paris hilton with maybe a dash of brooke davis  &  blair waldorf .

click here to take a lil trip to her pinterest !!

𝐈𝐈 .  𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝  :

tw : revenge porn ( leaking of nudes ) , stalking , ptsd  &  anxiety.

       on august fourth , 1999 , brooklyn paige guiliana moreno was born to nadia  &  lorenzo moreno . she was their second born child , the baby of the family with an older brother by two years. born in milano , italy , but they moved to manhattan before she turned one , so she has no memory of it. as a child , brooke did everything her parents asked of her. she was people pleaser , and she thrived off the attention and validation. one day after seeing toddlers & tiaras on tv , brooke begged her parents to let her do pageants. and she very quickly moved up from just beauty pageants , into the real world of fashion and modeling. she loved the glitz and glam of it , and the way people would praise her for it. by the time she was 18 and finally able to focus full time on modeling , she was one of the top high fashion models in the world.

         brooke met her first boyfriend her junior year of high school , and she fell head over heels for him. in hindsight , she knows it was more puppy love than real true love , but back then she had been so blinded by her feelings for him that she thought it would truly be something that could last. they were together for all of high school , until one party right after they graduated. they were playing spin the bottle ( bc ofc they were ) and brooke ended up having to kiss his best friend. she thought it had all been fun and games , but apparently , he was infuriated by what happened , and they got in a fight and broke up the next day. after their break up , he leaked her nudes to the media for a pretty large check to ‘ get back at her ’. thankfully , he was too much of an idiot to do it anonymously , and it was quickly found out that he was the leak. he was stripped of his college scholarships for football and expelled from princeton before his freshman year of college had even begun.

         unfortunately , brooke’s troubles didn’t end there. that same summer , her two closest friends turned on her as well. they sold lies about her to the media , twisting the story to put the blame on brooke , claiming that she had cheated on her boyfriend by sleeping with his best friend. they were also always giving tips to the paparazzi about her location. and there was one paparazzi that at first , always seemed to linger in the background whenever she was out in public. she would spot him out of the corner of her eye , but she’d hadn’t really though much about it until he started following her to first apartment ( she had been so excited to finally have a place all to herself , and was crushed when it was tainted ). the first time he did it , he just sat outside on the street , watching her enter the building but not going any further than that. things escalated very , very quickly from there. it seemed that every time she would leave the building , he would be there , snapping photos , taking videos  &  hounding her with incredibly personal questions. one night , she had arrived home from a photo shoot , wanting nothing more than to just do her skincare and pass out in bed. there had been nothing off as she had entered her apartment , nothing that could have set off an alarm in her head. but as soon as she entered her room , she found the man that had been harassing her for weeks , looking through her things just hoping to find a story he could sell to the media. she was able to get a restraining order on him after that , but since he hadn’t physically harmed her , no criminal charges stuck.

          she’d felt violated and betrayed , and so , so scared that she was no longer able to live alone. she gets really uncomfortable in large crowds or when she’s alone late at night , because she’s terrified that one day he’ll show back up. for a few months , brooke refused to go therapy because she was insistent that the events had no effect on her , even though it was obvious that she had. she wasn’t sleeping at night ( and still struggles with insomnia to this day ), she was barely leaving the house unless it was for work , and she had pushed away all of her friends. she finally agreed to go after after she had passed out from exhaustion in the middle of a photo shoot, and she’s improved a lot since then , but she does still have some lasting ptsd and anxiety. she also has a really hard time truly trusting people now , because she’s always scared she’ll let someone in just for them to sell out all her secrets.

𝐈𝐈𝐈 .  𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲  :

she can kinda be a tough nut to crack , but underneath the hardcore closed of exterior , she has a very bubbly personality , is very free spirited , she has no filter , and she’s extremely animated . she also cannot stay still for more than 5 minutes. literally the energizer bunny personified

okay .... she is lowkey a huge attention whore. there’s really has no excuse why she is either she just ... sucks lmao. but she really just thrives off of having all eyes on her , and has a naturally alluring energy. also has a major tendency to stir drama , even if it’s unintentional. she’s the type to be like “ i’m not a fan of drama i’ll just stay out of it ” but then is always the FIRST to ask for all the tea whenever shit goes down

she’s also very much a serial dater. in her pea brain attention = love so she’ll flock to wherever she gets that. she likes the validation of relationships but hates the commitment , so pretty much all of her relationships end before they ever really start. it’s something the media has caught onto , and she’s criticized quite a lot for it.

she does a pretty good job at hiding her ptsd , but please just .... don’t sneak up on her or surprise her bc she will freak out ( nd then either get irrationally angry or completely shut down bc she doesn’t know how else to handle these emotions lol )

she is a hardcore adrenaline junkie , she does so much shit just for the thrill. for her eighteenth birthday , she went cliff diving in mexico , then for her twenty first , unlike most ppl who just go to a club  &  get drunk , she went sky diving. she just holds a lot of emotion in , so anything that will release all of that or make her feel anything other than the things she’s avoiding are very much welcomed.

brooke once sent nasa a 6 page persuasive essay trying to convince them to send her to space. included in said essay were multiple images of herself because “ i’m a star and i should be documented as such ” unfortunately for her , they never responded :(

she would not be caught dead looking unpresentable .... she’ll do a full face of make up even if she’s waking up at 4am. and don’t even bother to ask her to go out after she’s done her skin care routine .... there’s no chance

god complex but sometimes it takes the day off  &  she’ll be insecure as fuck. honestly the conceitedness is pretty much just a defense mechanism to hide how much she actually hates herself lmao very “ i feel like i’m the worst so i act like i’m the best ”

[technoskittles]

Adora 2 6 2

Adora, hogwarts!au, fake dating, “fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit. fuck.”

(oh boy you probably picked the worst person to do a hogwarts au lol. I read the books when I was 10 and I’ve only seen the first movie around that same time and have not since interacted with anything HP. but I’ll do my best)

context: while I personally believe Adora is a Slytherin I believe I remember something about how you can still choose your house? Like, Harry was more suited to Slytherin but he wanted so badly to be Gryffindor so the sorting hat was like “lmao if you say so” and put him in Gryffindor. So I feel like the same thing happened with Adora which is why she’s in Gryffindor, not Slytherin.

cw: dubcon? ish? no sex, just some making out though.

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

On all accounts, it didn’t make much sense. Catra hated her. Both on a personal level and well, because of the pre-existing feud between their two houses. 

She was a Gryffindor. Catra was a Slytherin. What else was there to say?

A lot, apparently.

The proposal had, seemingly, come out of nowhere. It was both their fifth years and Adora was lined up to be the Gryffindor prefect. Of course, she had some competition, albeit minimal, but practically everyone and their mother knew that Adora had it in the bag. She had excellent grades and a pristine, crystal clear record that made her the perfect candidate.

Well...almost crystal clear.

And, she shouldn’t be surprised, Catra was not above blackmail.

“That happened in first year!” she’d argued. “It doesn’t even matter anymore!”

Catra, the epitome of nonchalance, had been picking at her nails. “Well, if that’s the case, Princess, then you shouldn’t be worried if anyone finds out.”

And Adora had been backed into silence, fuming and steaming, because despite how much she wanted to believe otherwise, she knew that something like that getting out would demolish her chances at becoming a prefect. Something that everyone, Catra in particular, knew that she’d spent most of her time at Hogwarts working towards.

So...yeah. Here she was. Walking the halls with her prefect badge pinned to her robes, keeping a watchful eye for any of the younger students causing havoc where they shouldn’t be.

And following closely behind her were the whispers of how she and Catra, the Slytherin fifth-year prefect, were....dating.

Ugh.

“I don’t know why you want to spread around something like that. Slytherins hate Gryffindors. If you’re trying to boost your reputation, something like this will have the exact opposite effect.”

“Bold of you to assume those were my intentions.”

Catra never divulged exactly what those were either though. Her lips were sealed, locked so tightly that not even the worst of coercion or spells could unlock it. She was planning something, that Adora could be sure of, but unfortunately for all her wits she couldn’t crack the code that was the mechanisms of Catra’s mind. 

So the year ran its course with the two of them pretending to date. Lower years gossiped in the halls in-between classes and Adora even caught her own quidditch teammates tossing about theories and conspiracies when they thought she couldn’t hear.

The only ones that knew the truth were her and Catra. And Bow and Glimmer, of course.

“I don’t understand why you’re letting her push you around like this,” Glimmer lamented each time the topic was brought up. “You deserve being a prefect, no matter what kind of dirt she has on you. Especially when she isn’t that squeaky clean herself.” She was always somehow more annoyed with the situation that Adora was, voicing the frustrations that Adora never could and then some.

Her defense was the same every time, too. “I can’t risk it, Glimmer. If there’s one thing that could get me stripped of my badge, it’s this.” What was the saying about regretting your youthful decisions? Because if there wasn’t one, she could probably easily come up with something. “I’ll just play along for now until she gets bored.”

“Or,” Glimmer rebutted, “You let her drag this on long enough until she achieves whatever it is she’s actually planning. You’re playing with venom here, babe. It’s up to you when you decide to suck it out.”

And she had a point. Without knowing what Catra’s intentions were with this whole thing or anyway of finding out, Adora was essentially a mouse in a mousetrap, waiting for her predator to either free her out of mercy or devour her whole. The longer she played this game, the more she risked losing. She used to assure herself that she’d play the waiting game until Catra either grew bored or until they were graduated, but who was to say that Catra would let her go after that? Who was to say she’d even last that long?

Bow, who was usually quiet during these conversations, only left her with a simple warning, “Be careful around her, Adora. We don’t want you getting hurt.”

So that’s what she was doing. Treading lightly, being mindful not to say anything too combative or instigate something that she can’t maintain a strong hold on.

They had rules, thankfully, from both of them. Rules from Catra to make the whole thing believable, and rules from Adora to make sure they didn’t step too far that she didn’t have any semblance of control. Their affection was public, a demand from Catra, but at Adora’s insistence, it was always chaste and simple. When asked about their relationship, Adora found herself reciting a spiel she’d rehearsed at Catra’s behest, but she was allowed to shut down questions that get too personal or intimate. 

For all the trouble it caused her, Adora had to admit that it could’ve been worse.

Until the night came where Catra broke her number one rule: Absolutely nothing was to happen between them in private. 

It had all started out during one of her nightly patrols. Her back was to a wall - literally - with Catra caging her in, too close for comfort. 

“Wha....what are you doing, Catra? This isn’t even your hall.”

Catra pouted and on the surface it looked almost genuinely hurt. But Adora could see the conniving little gears cranking behind the facade and steeled herself to disallow any notions of sympathy to break down her defenses. “Can’t one girlfriend say hi to the other?”

Adora quickly scanned the hallway they were in - dark and empty. “No one’s here. We don’t have to pretend.”

“Well,” and then Catra leaned in closer, her smirk fatally sweet and oozing venom and Adora could feel the toxins paralyzing her and making her overheat. “You never know who’s watching.”

They both knew very well that no one was. 

“Just what kind of game are you playing at here, huh? Because I didn’t agree to any of this.” Her anger was getting the better of her, pent up from being stuck in a trap she’d slid herself into. But she was tired of being the victim here. “You have no business being here unless it’s for some ulterior motive.”

Catra hummed and tapped the wall beside her head, mulling over her words with a halfhearted consideration. “Yeah, I suppose you might be right about that.” She leaned back, giving enough space between the two again that Adora takes in a gulp of air that she’d been desperately craving. “The game’s gotta change, Princess. Doubts are starting to creep into people’s heads and cheek pecks and hand holding ain’t gonna cut it anymore.”

Dread weighs in Adora’s stomach like lead. “So what are you proposing?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she cursed inwardly, angry with herself for indulging Catra in her sick little fantasy. She wanted out of this, not to let herself be reeled in further. 

She could feel Catra coiling around her, tighter and tighter, cracking her ribs and compressing her lungs as she struggled to breathe.

Adora watched as Catra dragged her tongue along her bottom lip, eyes dropping down from her face. “I was thinking something along the lines of something to show that you’re mine.” Adora shivered at the way that sounded, chalking it up to the ice-laced fear and uncertainty coursing through her veins. 

Catra smirked and met her eyes once more, mirth and secrecy dancing in the piercing colors that kept Adora pinned where she stood. “A necklace, maybe?”

Adora frowned and her shoulders relaxed. That was it? Gift giving? Well, that was manageable, she supposed. “What? To wear around for everyone to see?”

Something flashed in Catra’s eyes and suddenly things weren’t so simple. “Exactly like that.”

Still... “Okay. Fine. Do you have one now?”

Then Catra cackled and a warning ping went off in Adora’s head, something telling her to get out of there. Now. “Oh, sweet, sweet Adora. Not that kind of necklace.” Before Adora could say anything else, Catra’s hand was at the back of her head, gripping her ponytail and yanking it down. At the same time, one of Catra’s hands was yanking at the top of her robes, pulling it away from her neck, just before she descended.

Teeth clamped around supple skin and Adora yelped. Luckily, she still had enough wits about her to quickly bring a hand up to her mouth to muffle her sounds when Catra moved onto the next spot, trailing her tongue across the skin of Adora’s neck and collar before biting down again and sucking.

Her legs were trembling beneath her, breath coming in short spurts as her other hand grabbed at Catra’s robes. She was surprised to realize that instead of trying to pull her off, however, she was instead pulling her closer, body arching to brush against Catra’s. 

It last only a couple minutes. Soon enough, Catra was pulling away from Adora’s neck, admiring her handiwork in the form of a plethora of hickeys and a panting, flushed Adora. Clearly contented, she began to pull back, only to be halted by Adora’s hand still wrapped in the billowing fabric of her robes, pulling her back in. 

Their lips met, rough and Catra’s hot lips searing. Adora could feel the venom pooling in her mouth, coating her tongue with each swipe of Catra’s and trickling down her throat, poisoning her mind, body, and soul with each drop.

When they pull away, Adora no longer knew what to make of anything - up, down; left, right; friend, foe; Slytherin, Gryffindor. 

Catra let out a rush of air that she supposed was supposed to be a laugh, an amused light to her eyes that hinted at something else. Whatever it was, Adora wondered if it reflected the spark that she felt igniting in her own chest, spreading its heat to the bottom of her stomach.

“I think that’ll do for now,” Catra whispered, giving her one last peck on the lips before backing off. Adora watched her saunter off from whence she had come, robes fanning out around her, lips tingling with the phantom sensation of Catra’s pressed against them. 

Her fingers brushed against the sore spots on her neck, feeling the tenderness in a few select spots, as reality began to sink in and she realized just what this meant for tomorrow.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit.

Adora pushed herself away from the wall, standing still a second or two to make sure her legs were steady enough to walk, before drifting down the hall in the opposite direction to finish her rounds. 

Fuck.

[purplesurveys]

820

what venue was the last real concert you went to at?: It was in a local arena and seeing as it’s the only big and also the most modern arena that we have in the city, all foreign acts usually hold their shows there because other venues are too small. 

does your best friend and their mom have the same last name?: Not fully. Their moms hyphenated their surnames.

when was the last time you watched a horror movie? what was it?: Sometime in June-ish. It was Midsommar, and we watched the last full show so it was very late at night :c Loved the movie but hated the ride home as I could barely look at flowers or the color white after.

does your mom think robert pattinson (twilight) is attractive?: I’m not sure actually. I think she found Taylor Lautner to be a bit more attractive.

what color is your cell phone?: Answered this on a recent survey, but while Apple calls it space grey it’s really just fancy talk for black.

are you currently waiting for a phone call? from who?: Gab and I are gonna video call later tonight.

do you have any drugs in your bedroom?: I think I have a couple of Biogesic pills left. I remember taking a whole pack of it from my parents’ room because I had a phase not too long ago where I had a headache almost every night.

is there a feature on your face that people compliment you on?: My eyelashes and single dimple get the most compliments. I also never really had acne problems so I get a lot of comments on that too.

what are your plans for the rest of the week?: Professors are starting to put our grades on our student portal thingy so I’m just spending the week waiting for my record to be complete so I can start really feeling like I’m graduating. I’m also thinking of trying to make a Monte Cristo sandwich hahaha but I’m just not sure if we have all the ingredients needed for it. Safe to say that my plans are all over the place.

have you taken your license test yet?: Yes, four years ago. I’ve already told the story on old surveys but I’ll never forgive the LTO for giving me a car I was completely unfamiliar with to use for my driving exam, since it affected my performance and made me nearly fail the test altogether.

are you annoyed with the side-bang phase?: I don’t remember being annoyed with it. It was a big trend and honestly it looked okay on a lot of people lmao, I never felt like I wanted to complain about it.

what kind of perfume do you mainly use?: I haven’t used perfume in a whiiiiiile because I haven’t gone anywhere anyway, but I’d normally put on Beyoncé’s Heat Rush.

how many studded belts do you own?: Exactly zero.

has your boyfriend/girlfriend ever had braces?: Yes. We had braces put o around the same time, but she was permitted to have them removed much later than me. I only had braces for a year and a half, whereas she needed them throughout high school so that’s four years.

if you could get one piercing and one tattoo, where would you want them?: I’d get either a nose ring or nose stud for piercing; as for tattoo, I’d get Kimi’s pawprint on my wrist.

what have you eaten today?: I had garlic rice, scrambled eggs, and two hotdogs for breakfast; milk tea in the afternoon c/o my dad; and afritada for dinner.

what was the last thing you dissected in a science class?: If my memory serves me right, it was some sort of fish. We didn’t dissect often, just three times: an earthworm, a frog, and then that fish.

have you ever experienced being in love?: Yes.

what’s your favorite thing to do?: I don’t have a top 1 favorite thing to do but one of my favorites is to lift my dog up and carry him around like a baby until he gets annoyed and starts squirming around as if to say “put me down” lol.

have you ever drawn a portrait of somebody? who?: No thanks.

did you wear a jacket today?: No, I don’t wear jackets at home.

where did you buy the last album you purchased?: I have no clue, it was such a long time ago – 2013 to be exact. My best guess would be Mega since their CD shops are always the most updated.

what is your best class in school?: In college, I fell in love with my international relations class right from the first lecture. So easy to appreciate a class when you see your prof’s passion bleed through the readings, lectures, Powerpoints, etc. Back in high school, I loved all the specializations of history that we covered: Philippine history for freshman year, Asian history for second year, and world history for third year.

what was the last kind of vitamin water you consumed?: I don’t drink vitamin water but I do take a vitamin C pill everyday.

how many times a week are you told that you’re beautiful?: Uhhh lately, not that much since we haven’t seen each other and we don’t really do video calls that often. Gab usually calls me beautiful when I send her a selfie, but I don’t do that a lot either.

how many years apart are you and your boyfriend/girlfriend?: A month and a half.

have you kissed more than two people of the same sex?: Mmm just one. I kissed Andi on the cheek once and looking back I now acknowledge the fact that I had meant to do it romantically, but I don’t really count it cause it’s just a cheek kiss.

how many times have you had sex in one day?: Such a personal question lmao but I think my record was 3 or 4 times in a day.

did you exercise at all today?: I don’t exercise.

what color of hair did you have the beginning of this school year?: It’s always just been brown. It’s never changed. < Same sentiments, except change brown to black in my case.

who are you planning to hang out with this weekend?: Just my family, as has been the case for three months now.

when are you getting a new phone?: Idk, maybe a few months into my job once I get one.

have you ever seen a transvestite in person?: That’s a politically incorrect term that pisses me off greatly. < Oooooh. Honestly, genuinely did not know this, so thanks for teaching me something new. I’ve since looked it up and apparently the more appropriate term is cross-dresser, and yeah I know several. My university welcomes all forms of expression, so anyone can dress and project themselves in however way they desire.

what was the last show that you almost went to but didn’t?: This doesn’t count as a show but there was supposed to be a wrestling boot camp in Manila as part of a publicity campaign for a brand new wrestling promotion, and Andrew and I had plans on cutting class so we can attend the boot camp and learn basic wrestling moves. It was gonna be the coolest thing ever since WWE legend Rikishi was gonna be the one teaching at the boot camp, but unfortunately and shittily enough, the whole thing had been scheduled right around the time panic over Covid was at its peak. Lockdown started at the same week the boot camp was supposed to happen, so yeah I never got my chance to step into a ring.

what did you wear today?: I wore a UP shirt and a pair of shorts, but I’ll be showering after this.

what book are you currently reading?: Nothing at the moment. I can’t decide which wrestler’s autobiography to read next.

[mieczyhale]

throwing together some of my recent/ish hc posts/tags for @hellomyguru bc its a thing, babey (i have no idea what you’ve seen and what you havent bc tumblr really just suck like that so lmao)

my tags on this post::  #HELL YEAH HELL YEAH #more pride hcs!!! noice!!#i love these sfm#like klaus always taking part no matter how bad shit is bc HIS PEOPLE!!! and ben trying to punch picketers and homophobes is fucking adorbs#and i would kill (whoop) for the day klaus makes ben corporeal during pride and ben can punch all the people and then disappear#vanya’s is cute. come to the light darling!!#and diego fksgjf okay listen whether one hcs him as bi or not this is 1000% something he’d do either way#he’s supportive!!! and he has lgbtqa+ family!!! and nobody gets to be mean to his family but him!!#see also:: the first year after the apocalypse is avoided five decides to tag along when klaus saying he’s taking dave to#his very first pride. he not only enjoys himself but he learns a lot and either then or over the course of the following weeks figures his#own labels out - bc i hc five as asexual and i just have a thing for klaus being the all knowledgeable one about something for once#and his siblings learning about gender and sexuality from him and maybe discovering something new about themselves along the way!#except luther. he’s a cis hetero and we all know it#but maybe he learns to be a good ally. maybe#i mean probably not but whatever#allison is the only other person in the family who i’d even consider calling straight#bc there’s nothing wrong with being straight and i just.. dont have another label that i think fits her really well#so yeah ive got gender and sexuality hcs for them all flgkscndn happy pride month bitches

my tags on this post:: #’you’re telling me this happens every year?? for a whole month??!’ #actually i need every possible concept of dave experiencing pride month and seeing how far things have come for gays#like rainbow shit everywhere#and of course the legalization of gay marriage#out and proud gay politicians and gay people in positions of power#the amount of support that comes when homophobic shit happens now#homophobia isnt the accepted norm anymore#another thing i like is the concept of - either during pride or just in general - dave being excited to learn about the community as a whole#his boyfriend is a nonbinary pansexual and klaus has explained before what those words mean but dave wants to really understand#we stan a supportive and loving couple#dave has a lot to learn in 2019 but i think this stuff would be the most important and have the most effect on him yknow??#shit isnt perfect but its better and now he can work on getting passed the environment he was raised in#so he can hold klaus’s hand in public and kiss him around other people without panicking and eventually he proposes because HE FUCKING CAN#HE CAN DO THAT. HE CAN JUST.. ASK HIS BOYFRIEND TO MARRY HIM. LEGALLY.#good fucking shit

my tags on this post:: #did you see the state of the sky in the apocalypse?? there’s a chance he really wouldnt have noticed#i mean like yeah it could be a funny plothole#but there could also be reasons for why thats not something he noticed#or idfk man timeline shit#maybe the moon didnt explode the first time around#maybe it did and there’s just another moon somehow some way#maybe he didnt notice bc he was first too scared and then too frenzied and angry probably and then he had shit to focus on and math to do#and then dolores wanted to go on dates to the local wine cellars and flat empty areas that used to be parks and then there was spending days#in the library together like having a girlfriend is a lot of work okay#maybe five just didnt have the time to slowdown and consider things like space#maybe his headspace was too fucked#sometimes you just forget about the moon - i know i do!#so sfgksncjf okay y e ah

my tags on this post:: #YES!!! #yes yes yes #okay #so#everytime someone mentions or even hints at dave having anger issues i wanna fucking cheer bc thats one of my biggest hcs for him#like yeah he’s sweet and gentle and respectful and all that - genuinely a good man - our lil jewish gay#BUT#he did grow up in the 50s and 60s which as op said would have surrounded him with a lot of toxic masculinity. now i dont think he would be#a toxic kind of masculine AT ALL but it definitely would have forced him to hide his emotions and feelings and idk hobbies and of course his#sexuality. and i say hobbies bc there isnt a canon answer for it i dont think but i personally hc dave as being someone who loves art#specifically: drawing. dave keeping a lil sketchbook and some pencils under the pillow on his cot in vietnam?? yes please#so anyway yeah - he wouldnt have really had any good examples of how to properly take care of your anger - although he has enough#heart and common sense to know its really fucking wrong to take it out on women and children and people one is dating WHICH - another hc i#have that ties into this is that somehow his dad found out that he’s gay and beat the crap out of him over it. because unfortunately thats a#thing that happens. so his main male example was an abusive pos. and then he goes to vietnam which is fine because its not like he has#anyone stateside that will miss him - that will talk to him anymore - and its a warzone so there are a lot of ways to work out your anger#and yeah that of course includes bar fights. and he does - usually - try and keep a hold on his anger until he’s away from anyone who might#feel threatened - and he doesnt wanna end up taking out an innocent on accident - but he’s not actually perfect and so sometimes he fails#and it happens around klaus one time and seeing his love’s reaction - the making himself smaller - trying to hide - going quiet and so#clearly afraid - and not just afraid but afraid OF HIM - freezes him to the core where he stands because nobody has ever reacted like that#before. or if they have he never noticed or cared because they didnt matter. but this is klaus. his klaus. who he loves and would never do#anything to hurt him. his klaus who he protects and defends and knows he wants to spend his life with - no matter how impossible it is#he wants to go to klaus and apologize - try to undo the damage done simply by him raising his voice and lashing out - but he doesnt know#what to say or how to say it - he doesnt know what to do with the situation honestly. so he leaves the tent and goes to take his renewed#anger and frustration out on whatever he can find so he can calm down and hopefully get into the right headspace to have whats#no doubt going to be a really hard conversation with his boyfriend. because where do you even start??#but of course they talk it out and dave promises to work on his anger and on how he lets it out and yknow.. its dave so klaus trusts him and#it takes some time - there are some incidents - but dave works hard and learns a lot from klaus - including how to unlearn a lot of shit he#grew up with - and its rough but having a partner from the future who breaks all kinds of barriers definitely helps#so y eah. those are my brief feelings on it and i wanna marry op 

my tags on this post::   #!!!!!!!!!!!! #YES #i adore this post#i could never pinpoint why the introduction on the bus made me feel like That but this is it!!#its just so sweet and innocent - even surrounded by other soldiers in the middle of a warring country#the innocence and unbearable fucking adorableness of their first convo on that bus just… its so bright and lovely it makes everything else disappear#the only thing that matters is the two guys getting to experience that ‘o h’ moment for the first time in their lives bc their childhoods#never let them have that #i assume#bc like op said klaus didnt go to a regular school and he wasnt p much stuck in that house and then he was on the streets so#and for dave like.. i guess he could’ve had that moment in school? but it would’ve been one-sided and he never would have#told anyone. 1960s. gay jewish man. yeah.#they’re each others first (and only) loves and i just really fucking adore that and live off of posts about them 

my tags on this post:: #what if he wasnt dead-dead though???#bc like… the day five found them all dead was apparently the day the apocalypse happened right? so its not like they’d been dead for days#weeks or w.e yknow??#and the time between klaus dying and coming back is varying and undetermined - there’s no canon timing for the length of his deaths#so what if he came back to life??#like okay i know its not really possible in canon bc five buried them i think?? or is that a fanon thing??#i cant remembering #anyway#but still - in general klaus not being permanently dead in the apocalypse is another possibility#and five didnt know about it bc after finding them all he began his 45 year journey#and klaus wakes up alone and essentially has to learn to survive and he doesnt know five was ever there bc..well.. yeah#five is long gone#maybe klaus lives out his days in that wasteland#and he doesnt remember it where five does bc five time traveled back and klaus didnt. the klaus that got stuck in the#apocalypse is a different klaus - like a different timeline. the klaus from ep1 never got stuck in the destroyed future so#he’d have no knowledge or memories of it or anything#or - second thought - he kills himself at some point after waking up and either begs god to let him stay dead or he strikes some kind of#deal with her so he doesnt have to return to whats left of earth#oooo or something happened that put a lock on his powers?? like yknow those cuffs and devices and stuff in stuff in fantasy that freeze the#users abilities?? that’d be an interesting plotpoint bc then like who did it and why and what was the last day really like? yknow#vanya’s meds but More is the idea #just a thought#but anyway idk im just a big fan of klaus with the inability to die and all the possibilities that brings 

my tags on this post::   #i’ve actually never stopped to consider why he didnt notice them except for my v first tua watch-thru#which is odd bc like that seems like a thing one should notice after a few watches??#but w.e #anyway#my only other hc for that part of the episode isnt that klaus didnt notice them bc he’s used to guns#it’s that he didn’t hear them#or that they weren’t loud enough -to him- to register as gunfire initially#bc like one of my close hcs is that he has bad hearing. growing up with people screaming in your ears 24-7 365 can’t exactly be good for#his ears now can it? and with how loud some of them are and how close they can get to him - without touching him - that’s just.. a lot of#fucking volume okay#now add in the academy’s mission alert siren#how loud he listens to his music with headphones on when he’s trying to drown out some REALLY LOUD SCREAMING#and then being near gunfire growing up. those bank robbers had guns and weren’t exactly a big distance away#all the raves and clubs and parties he goes to?? places where music is played so loud the room shakes and you cant hear anything else and#the music itself can be heard from blocks away?? that’s an indeterminable amount of intense noise#and then of course the gunfire of vietnam#so like… boys ears have SUFFERED. whether they wanna acknowledge that in canon or not#so the shooting at the theater - the shooting thats IN the theater - which is large and meant to house sound#thats happening across a big city street from where they’re standing and they’re behind the food truck and if klaus was ordering when it all#started that was just another level of sound and he’s not exactly focused bc everything is awful yknow?? so either it takes him a second to#notice or register it on his own or maybe he doesnt and ben says something?? idk but that’s kinda the field i’ve landed on for that scene#not that im not here for op’s hc!!! bc it really is a good one and it makes sense. im just rambling my own theory here bc i like considering#the Ways for Things sometimes. esp with klaus involved. this does make me wonder tho… if his hearing somehow is -fine- in canon…. h o w?#bc like bitch who tf can take all that and have perfect hearing?? thats gotta be impossible. if they are fine is it related to his powers#somehow?? like.. does his casual passing between life and death all the time mean he doesnt have mortal ear weaknesses? its weird but im..#i’ve got theories. 

my tags on this post:: #probably in the massive fucking pockets of his fluffy coat#see also:: a dealer’s place #a boyfriend’s place#an ex-boyfriend who is also a dealer’s place#a girlfriend’s place #a partner’s place#all ex’s of course bc dave is the only valid romantic relationship#he made friends with the person who owns a nearby thrift store and they help him out#he has a locker at a public place like the ymca#he only has one outfit before returning to the mansion so he has nothing to carry - ever on the move#he thiefs off of people in rehab and crackhouses he stayed in that are dumb enough to leave their shit unattended#when he sees something he likes or he feels its time for an outfit change#he mostly sticks with his lace up pants as far as bottom pieces go bc its much harder to sneak away with skirts#and the kind of crazy pants he likes. there’s only room for one pair of pants for this pan disaster#after returning to the mansion he has access to the funky gay clothes he had managed to aquire before leaving all those years ago#bc like… i kinda hc that he got out of there fast and probably higher than fuck and had nothing packed#have you ever tried to pack while high?? it’s harder than it has any right to be#crack theory:: he had a bag - we just never saw it bc in the beginning he wore it under his floofy coat bc safety and he didnt need it the#rest of the time.#i have a lot of thoughts and headcanony opinions about klaus’s time on the streets so thank u#for giving me a place to dump some of them   

[padalickingood]

Can we please have more Loch backstory? I'm v intrigued and would appreciate a readmore dump

umm yessss absolutely Lmao. There’s actually….kind of a lot to unpack with his backstory, so I’m not even really sure where to begin with it? Hence why I prefer answering specific asks people have XD, but I could TRY and do a quick abbreviated readmore of his backstory, KEYWORD TRY

I’m definitely going to leave out a lot of the meat of his story and kind of go over the basics so if there’s anything that you would like me to elaborate on please let me know!!

not sure if I should do bullet points or little paragraph info dumps so uh we’ll just see what happens here

Firstly there’s a lot of stuff that needs to be prefaced to kind of understand the basics (like specifically surrounding the politics of the city and what not) that I honestly feel like i’ve repeated enough to make a decent amount of sense??? but if you need a refresher it’s all  here   . otherwise i’m just gonna start saying stuff and hope it’s easy to follow!!

---------

SO I guess I should start off by saying where he kind of sits right now in his story and kind of go backwards from there. Currently he is an exile of his home city of Elfenbein, effectively chased out of the city and left to die. Before that though he was the oldest son of one of the four most historic noble houses of the city of Elfenbein. He belonged to the house of rangers, with his father as the head and his step mother and 3 half siblings at his side. Loch was very much the bastard son of the family in most senses of the word. There were little to no expectations put on him aside from just being a good hunter and having a presentable presence in public. but he was also Ley’thas’ illegitimate son.

Before he married Dofrea he had a fling with a woman named Ranna. Their little fling wasn’t that long lived and eventually Ranna was forced out of the city after it being discovered what she was (psst...a werewolf). Of course she didn’t go without leaving a gift, the young infant Loch, with Ley’thas to care for.

Loch grew up in the noble life style of a Vallentin family member although he never really felt quite noble. His relationship with his father and step mother were strained at best in his youth and only grew worse as he grew up and his lycanthropy started to truly develop. The harshest years of his life were from his mid teen to young adult years where he endured a suffocating hold his parents had on him in their attempts to keep his secret hidden and ‘help’ rid him of the curse. In the end their attempts at ridding him of the affliction left him with nothing but deep emotional scars that he carries with him to this day.

Still he maintained his hearty attitude and looked to move forward. In his youth after his wolfy side started to really take root, Loch quickly formed an obsession to finding his birth mother Ranna, wanting to build a true connection with her in order to better understand himself. Through his desperate attempts at finding her he ends up getting involved in some less than kosher magics that eventually lead him to her. Their initial meeting was awkward and strained and the two didn’t exactly connect as quickly as he would have liked. Ranna’s attempts to distance herself from him was only met with determination from Loch to learn more about her. She reluctantly agrees to help him but so far they’ve only met less than a handful of times.

Aside from his rocky relationship with his family (which doesn’t even include his half-siblings yet) He was still very much an important member of the Ventis. As an actual family member he was able to climb up the ranks fairly easily and is renowned among other Vallentin recruits for being one of the best hunters…even though he would always split from the group. Regardless he did his job efficiently and without issue for the most part, and he actually prided himself on his ability to protect his city.

Loch has always been a protective person, but in his job description of killing monsters there is obviously a level of conflict within him. He would always do whatever he could to help people, but in that same vein he never indiscriminately killed monsters. His philosophy was to help those that needed it. The idea of simply killing something because it encroached on your space (which was essentially what The Ventis does) was never something that sat right with him. Even though he participated in Ventis hunts, he made a habit to make sure the creature they were after was either humanely lead to a place where it wouldn’t be any trouble or be taken care of if it truly only sought to harm others.

He doesn’t really think of himself as altruistic per-se but just someone whose there to help. Deep down hunting is in his blood and it’s a part of him that’s never really going to go away. One of Loch’s many faults is his addictive nature, specifically around fighting creatures and hunting and also his need to reconnect with his birth mother. All of those things tie into a major part of his person and drive him as a character (and ultimately could get him into a lot of trouble)

When he still lived in Elfenbein he had a few people he grew to knew as close friends. For the most part he wasn’t exactly the best at making friends, either being shunned as the illegitimate son of a Ventis family, not exactly having the best personality for making friends or just simply being ignored (which he kind of preferred). He had no issues with being unseen, it actually helped him get away with a lot more than his siblings at times and maintained his secret pretty well. Particularly after one bad memory with someone he was close to from his past he never really tried to make more friends.

of course sometimes people just enter your life and you don’t get to decide just how much of an impact they’ll have on you. At some point in his life (a few years before he leaves) he makes a habit of going to the lower tier of the city and frequents a tavern in his attempts to get the true pulse of the people and live a mostly average existence. The tavern owner, a young energetic and intense woman by the name of Laurel, ends up becoming one of his closest friends in the city. Loch quickly becomes a regular to the tavern and actually befriends laurel’s other siblings who work there as well. A particular sibling by the name of Rosen actually ends up being a bit of a kindred spirit to Loch as the two learn to understand just how much in common they have.

Unfortunately as life is want to do, the good times don’t last. A few years after he meets and grows close to Laurel and her siblings and he starts to actually get comfortable things start to fall apart. Eventually his father and step-mother discover his (what they deem) incredibly risky and careless behavior and Loch is left to face the consequences and endure the punishment laid out by them. Then not long after that (a few months) there is an attempt on his life. Unknown assailants armed with silvered weapons ambush him while his guard is down and Loch manages to barely escape with his life.

He barely manages to survive with the help of a stranger who finds him near death on the side of the road. After he recovers he makes the decision to leave Elfenbein behind, but more importantly leave the people he’s grown close to behind. And that’s when he start his search for ,honestly, a place to call home. and it starts with finding his mother.

———

welp! that’s scarily the spark notes version of his whole backstory. I hope you enjoyed! I didn’t really get into detail his relationship with his siblings and the nitty gritty of his parents cuz there is just…so much to unpack there. Also there’s the case of Alden and his close friend Rosen and Laurel who have had a huge impact on his life, but those are all honestly their own posts. So if you have questions about them i’ll be happy to share!

[crayolacrayonhalloweenpacks]

Lo Stesso Tempo

Summary: Logan Berry and Roman Gold are equally ambitious and skilled pianists. Unfortunately, those ambitions are not necessarily compatible. Competition ensues.

Words: 6045

Notes: Alrighty! This is my first Sanders Sides fic, and the first fic I've ever posted in a public space, so please don't murder me if they're super out-of-character or some parts are super rushed or whatever. (Which they are, lmao.) But I really enjoyed writing this, so I decided to post it anyway, because that's the only way to ~grow~ and whatnot. Have a nice day! :)

Read on: Archive of Our Own, Wattpad

Ms. Anne Berry had always wanted to be a musician, and when she grew up without achieving her aspirations, turned to trying to raise one. In her childhood daydreams, she entered a shining hall, hung with crystal chandeliers and gold sconces. A stage was set before a sea of black velvet chairs, upon which hundreds of elegant aristocrats sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation. On the stage was a sleek black grand piano. She walked out to ear-splitting applause and cheering, but the audience hushed immediately, eager to watch the virtuoso at work, when she placed her hands upon the keys. Those dreams turned to dust as she aged. She attended law school, became an attorney, worked so tirelessly she never had time for music. In her new dreams, the baby in her womb grew up to play sold-out shows in those beautiful halls to hordes of admirers in her stead, so that she could at least be at peace with her former ambitions.

In that spirit, she had selected a wonderful name to encourage her future child’s musical inclination. It that of many great composers, graceful, and refined. Clunky, awkward, unexceptional Logan was not the name she would have chosen for her child, but her husband insisted on it. The Berrys had been bickering over this since they found out she was pregnant. It was practically routine.

Ms. Berry would list off notable musicians who bore her chosen name. (“All I’m saying is that it has a fantastic musical significance.”)

Mr. Berry would argue for his family’s honor. (“And Logan has a wonderful familial significance. My grandfather was a--”)

She would dismiss this argument every time but the first. (“Yes, yes,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ve given me your little spiel already.)

He would point out what an absurd name it was. (“We cannot name our son Johann.”

“And why not?”

“Are you kidding? You’re going to get him bullied!”

“Johann is an excellent name. No one in their right mind would mock it.” “They’re kids!” Mr. Berry threw up his hands. “None of them are in their right minds!”)

Then the two would stalk off to their respective ends of the house and not speak to each other until dinner, upon which they would smile and nod politely as if nothing had happened.

~

The Golds went grocery shopping every week, just a walk to the store with a list of items they had to buy. Roman was in charge of keeping track of what they had in the cart. Tomatoes, check, chicken, check. He pointed out that it would be much easier to lug the bags back home if they took the car and didn’t have to carry all the bags, but his mama insisted it was barely half a mile, and besides, they had to get their steps in somehow.

It was a path they’d tread many times before, but this time, there was something unfamiliar in the way. Well, not in the way. Even though it was on the sidewalk, it was pushed near the entrance of the nearest shop, leaving a wide berth for pedestrians to pass by. It was new, nonetheless. Roman jabbed his mama’s arm. “Look!”

She glanced down, amused. “Yes?”

“Why is there a piano on the road?” He had only ever seen them in movies. They were huge, glossy black, and, according to his moms, expensive, so even though this one was brown wood and hardly in mint condition, he couldn’t fathom why it would be left out in the elements.

“It’s a public piano, darling,” explained his other mom. “There’s a music shop right here,” she said, pointing to a sign reading SANDERS MUSIC. “They’re probably the ones who put it out here. People just put them out in the open so anyone can play them.”

“Anyone?”

"Yes, anyone. Do you want to play?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!” He plopped down on the bench and pressed down on a key. Roman’s breath hitched. He pressed it again, just to listen to that sound. It sang out over the street like sunlight, bright and brassy and warm. He looked up at his moms.

His mama smiled. “Go on.”

He plunked the key below it, and then the one below that. His head shot up, and he replayed the keys, stuttering his way through “Mary Had a Little Lamb”. “Look, mom!”

“Lovely, Ro,” his mom said, ruffling his hair. He beamed.

"Hey, that was pretty neat!” A brunet man with multiple black cases strapped to his back and dangling off his arms jogged up to them. “You’re a natural.”

Roman rolled the word over in his head in delight. He was a natural. “Thank you!”

“Of course!” He held out a hand to his moms. “I’m Thomas. I own the shop.” His mom shook his hand. “The piano was a new idea my friend pitched, and I wasn’t sure about it at first, but it’s really been a hit so far!”

Roman jumped up from the bench. “You own the store?”

“Yep! Family business.”

“Mama, can we get a piano?”

She chuckled softly. “Honey, those are expensive.”

“How expensive? I have a lot of money saved.”

His mom smiled sadly. “A lot more than what’s in your piggy bank.”

"But I wanna learn!”

His mom flushed red and turned away from Thomas. “Those are expensive too, darling,” she explained.

Roman’s eyes stung. “How much--”

“A lot more than we can afford.”

Thomas cleared his throat. “Your moms are right,” he said when they looked over. “Lessons and pianos cost a lot of money. It’s not a decision to be made lightly. But,” he continued quickly when Roman’s face fell, “I teach group piano lessons at most schools in this area. If you want to go to our school for details, they can give you a registration form. Most are held after school hours, but it’s completely free.”

“Can I go?” Roman pleaded. “Please?”

“I don’t know--” his mom began.

His mama shushed her. “I think we’ll be doing that soon,” she said brightly. “Thank you so much for the information, Mr. Sanders.”

“Of course. Always happy to help.”

“Thank you.” His mom nodded after a moment, then took Roman with one hand and her wife with the other. “Let’s go get some bread, huh?”

Roman skipped all the way to the supermarket and back. He couldn’t wait for school to start.

~

There was a specific story his mom particularly enjoyed telling, and would to anyone who would listen, from relatives at dinner to total strangers in the audience. As she told it, while pregnant, she had purchased a CD of classical music off a website that proclaimed the amazing effects of prenatal musical immersion on later intelligence and academic performance. She played it daily against her belly. A few months later, Logan Johann Berry was born, and at the ripe young age of six, he began playing the piano, beginning his transformation into the gifted musician he was today.

His mom liked to leave out the part when every major news source in the country debunked the website’s claim and she was delivered a ten-dollar refund alongside a note of apology. Once, Logan had chimed in with this fact while his mother told the story to an audience member at one of his recitals and received nervous laughter and a death glare in return. He never attempted it again after the incident. He supposed it somewhat diminished the dramatic effect of the story.

Regardless, it was at this age, during the lesson, that he met Roman. His mother had enrolled him in the after-school program’s piano lessons as soon as she heard. The teacher, Mr. Sanders, had left briefly for the restroom. Before he left, he instructed them to practice playing a C scale using the method they learned--tucking under their thumbs to play F. Logan had already mastered this technique, but supposed a bit of practice couldn’t hurt.

Out of curiosity, he glanced over to the child seated in the middle of the bench and frowned. He had decided to play the first five notes with his left hand and the last three with his right, going against Mr. Sanders’s explicit instructions. “Hey,” he said, “You’re doing it wrong.”

The boy glanced over at him, shrugged, and played the scale again.

"No, like this,” he supplied helpfully, giving a short demonstration. C, D, E, tuck, F.

The other shrugged again.

Irritation growing, he pointed out, “You can’t do it like that, it makes no sense.”

“Yeah it does.”

“No, it doesn’t. What if you wanted to play two different things? You’d need one hand for both.”

“Maybe I have four hands,” he contested.

“Hey, guys, maybe--” the boy on the other end of the bench interrupted.

“No, you don’t.”

“Don’t be mean--”

“How do you know? You’ve never seen them.”

“Because you can’t have four hands, that’s not how people work!”

“Please, can we--”

“Maybe I’m not a person, then! Ooooooooh!” he said, wiggling his fingers.“Maybe I’m an alien!”

“That’s not what aliens say, that’s ghosts--”

“Whoa, whoa, okay!” Mr. Sanders stood between them, holding out his hands cautiously. “Let’s break it up, alright?”

Logan looked down, picking at the keys. “Sorry,” he muttered, but his gut was still boiling. He was just trying to help.

“Mr. Sanders?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“Is this right?” And he proceeded to play the scale in his completely, totally, utterly, infuriatingly wrong way, topped off with a triumphant sneer at Logan when he finished it. That halfwit. Logan dug his nails into the bench.

Mr. Sanders’s face twisted. “Well. That was certainly…”

The two boys looked at him expectantly.

“Well. Hm. And how are you doing?” He turned his attention to the child on the other end of the bench.

Logan grumbled. He was right! And he was just trying to help! Why wouldn’t Roman, or Dolan, or Rolan, or whatever his name was just take his advice when he was clearly the correct one?

The lesson ended, and the three children filed out to be picked up by their parents. On the drive home, his mom asked, “So how was it?”

"Good--”

“How were the other kids? Did you do well?”

“Better than the other boy. He wasn’t doing it right, and he didn’t even listen when I tried to help him!”

“Oh, really?” His mom was more than happy to commiserate, seeming positively ecstatic at the news of his classmate’s failure.

~

Roman practically floated off the stage as the next act was announced, unable to keep the triumphant beam off his face. He had killed his rendition of the Moonlight Sonata, chosen specifically to outdo Logan, who was always being praised for the beauty of his pieces. Well, see him try to beat a piece so lovely it reminded a critic of “moonlight on Lake Lucerne”. His moms and Mr. Sanders had thought it was pretty, too--they were all smiles while he practiced it on the piano in the music shop. And the whole audience applauded a little more enthusiastically after his performance, too. Certainly more than they had for the parrot trainer and that kid who had just hula-hooped for ten minutes straight. So, admittedly, the bar was low. But that meant he had just set it higher--so high that Logan couldn’t even dream of touching it with the barest brush of his hands. Actually, maybe he’d gotten some of the notes wrong--he hadn’t had lessons since a few years ago, before the after-school program was discontinued--but no one would be able to tell unless they’d memorized the whole piece. He was satisfied. That talent show trophy was his.

The act was dismissed to dim applause--some kid with an instrument that looked like a giant violin? How weird--and Logan started heading to the stage. Roman clapped slowly, not bothering to stifle a sneer when Logan passed by his chair. What was going to upstage the Moonlight Sonata? His precious scales couldn’t help him now. The announcer told the audience the name of the piece he was playing, and Roman’s smirk widened. What on Earth was “Shoe-bert” and his impromptus? More like Snooze-bert.

Logan began playing and the audience fell silent. He laughed quietly, earning himself a jab in the ribs from his neighbor. This was Logan’s piece? It barely had anything beyond a basic melody! And there was so much repetition--had he learned anything beyond a couple lines? Anyone could play that. He leaned back in his chair. And here he’d thought he’d get more of a fight. Then, his eyes widened and he nearly fell off his seat.

What-- How was-- It couldn’t be. Was Logan playing a two-against-three rhythm? It was so difficult! Whenever Roman tried to do that, his right hand kept trying to catch up to his left and he would end up with a mess of ugly, clashing notes. Roman could never get that right. Never. But apparently Logan could. He ground his teeth. Before he knew it, Logan’s performance was over. He smirked back at Roman as he walked past.

Roman’s heart dropped even lower when the winner was announced. Hint: he got a participation award.

~

Roman was a high-school heartbreaker, although not in the traditional sense. At his last performance, he got the entire audience bawling into their neighbors’ shoulders. He played with incredible expression, drawing tears of joy and sorrow alike from his listeners, filling them with every emotion possible, from anger to flights of fanciful passion.When Logan played, people just clapped. He hated Roman for it, but there was a sliver of him--which he shoved safely into the back of his brain, because Mom always said he couldn’t afford distractions--that admired it. Logan’s strength was in technique. He had spent countless hours studying Czerny and Hanon, scribbling reminders on all of his pieces, drilling even the shortest measures ruthlessly if he felt there was the tiniest imperfection. It would have to be enough. It had to. There was only one pianist spot in the entire orchestra, and Logan was determined to claim it as his own. His mom had done nothing but encourage his hard work, and the look in her eyes when he told her he wanted to play for the orchestra was so bright he feared his whole world might go dark if it disappeared.

He happened to be directly after Roman in the audition order. Roman eyed him up and down as he approached. “What are you doing here, oper-awful?”

He rolled his eyes. “That makes no sense. I don’t even sing.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Auditioning, like you. Although, on second thought, hopefully nothing like you. I don’t want to play remotely like the guy who’s probably going to try to “Moonlight Sonata” the judges to death again.”

“Is that so, Moz-fart?”

“How juvenile.”

The doors swung open. The student who had just auditioned was smiling broadly until he saw the two death-glaring at each other. “Um. How are we?”

Roman sniffed haughtily. “Well, I’d better get in. Don’t want to be late.”

“Good luck!” the boy called. He turned to Logan as he walked down the hallway. “And to you too!”

Roman disappeared behind the double doors of the audition room, but not before Logan caught a glimpse of his piece. “Papillons.” A common nickname for one of Chopin’s etudes--a rather easy one, at that. Sure, choosing Chopin was playing to his strengths, but Logan thought he’d play something more difficult. Not that he was complaining.

He peered in through the window, and it was only then he realized that what Roman was playing looked nothing like the etude. His stomach twisted and he ducked away from the window. Of course it was the other Papillons--the notoriously difficult piece by Schumann, so difficult that some parts as short as a few measures were learned as separate pieces. Roman came out two minutes later. “How’s that for juvenile?” He brushed off his shoulder. Logan didn’t respond. “Good luck. You might need it.”

Logan lied to his mom for the rest of the year.

~

The New York State Musician’s Association’s annual charity recital was about the great cause they were fundraising for--bringing music education to more schools. And of course Roman cared about that! How could he not? Having a proper music education certainly would have helped in his endeavors as a pianist. However, it was undeniably also about victory, and glory, and basking in the light of the aforementioned. He, like every other reasonable musician in the room, was vying for the Junior Musician Recognition Award, the most prestigious music award for high school students in the tri-state area. The orchestra position was fantastic, as was passing the audition and performing at the recital, period and he was wholly glad he’d earned those opportunities. But this was something to finally prove his talent, the central gem in his crown of achievements. And the fact that he could lord it over Logan didn’t hurt, either.

Logan was the current performer, playing something Roman didn’t recognize. The audience whispered to each other in hushed, pointing out a particularly good bit. He rolled his eyes. Wasn’t speaking during a performance supposed to be rude? He poked the contestant--excuse him, performer--next to him, a Victor or something who went to his high school. Roman distantly recalled him playing cello in the back of the orchestra. “What do you think of that guy?”

Victor jumped. “W-what?”

“What do you think?”

“I--who are you?”

“Roman? The orchestra pianist?” he said impatiently.

“Oh. Yeah.” He glanced at the stage. “He’s good. Is that Bach?”

“Yeah,” he snapped.

Victor raised his eyebrows. “Whoa, dude, chill. I was just asking.”

Roman closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. I’m in my happy place. I’m in my happy place… “Right. Sorry,” he muttered and turned back to the performance.

“Well, what about you?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you think he’s good?”

Roman looked back to the stage. Logan’s posture was perfectly straight, elbows perfectly out, every note perfectly hit. The longer he watched, the more impressed he was. Ugh. His playing was technically flawless. His fingers flowed over the keys as easily as water. Every movement was deliberate but delicate, gliding like a figure skater. He made everything he played look elegant and effortless. Maybe, Roman realized, that was why he had always underestimated him. What had really gone into making the masterpiece before him? How devoted was Logan to his craft that he had this kind of skill?

“Well?” Victor prompted.

"He’s fine,” Roman spat, a bit louder than he intended.

Victor cringed when the people sitting behind them glared. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“He’s fine,” he said, lowering his voice. “Just. Fine.”

The piece concluded with a final chord and he bowed, catching Roman’s gaze across the room. Roman suddenly became very invested in adjusting the buttons of his shirt.

Logan was not fine. He was good. He was a good musician. Really good. Great, even. And also… He swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek. He’d studied his piece for so long. Even if he wasn’t as talented as Logan, at least he could fake it with his hard work. His effort had to mean something. It couldn’t be for naught.

His turn was approaching. He adjusted his buttons shakily, hands damp and clammy, and made his way up to the stage. The crowd applauded politely. The announcer was calling his name and piece. The stage was empty, the keys  alien on his fingertips, unwelcoming and cold as ice. He shook his head, trying to focus. Focus. It would not be for naught.

Well.

He admitted it to himself.

And also, Logan was better than him.

~

Logan was still swooning from the adrenaline. He was certain he’d messed up the trills--his hands kept slipping off the keys, and his heart thundered faster just thinking of it. But there was no use worrying about that now. He took a deep breath and glanced over at his parents. His mom was grinning broadly,  nudging the person next to her, mouthing “That was my son!” He exhaled. It was done. Finally.

The boy next to him seemed even more anxious, bouncing his leg and fidgeting with the edges of his blazer and his tie. “Are you alright?” he asked.

The boy looked over and gave a nervous chuckle, wiping his forehead. “I’m going next so… Whoo. Stage jitters.” His eyes lit up with recognition. “Hey, don’t we go to the same school?” He stuck out his hand. “Patton Baker.”

He shook it. Patton’s hand was damp, and Logan tried to wipe it on his pants discreetly after he let go. “Logan Berry.” He frowned. They were supposed to perform in alphabetical order. “Shouldn’t you have gone already?”

“Oh, no. I’m doing a duet, and my partner’s all the way over there.” He pointed down the aisle.

“Neat. What are you playing?”

“Oh, just a little--hey! Isn’t that the orchestra pianist?”

Roman was onstage. Logan’s gut clenched. “Yeah.”

“Is that Chopin?”

Yes, it was. One of his waltzes--A-flat major, if he wasn’t mistaken. Roman evoked joy perfectly, of course. But he didn’t look the part--actually, he looked rather downcast. Logan always thought he just played what he felt, but that couldn’t possibly be what was happening here. Now he realized how well thought-out his interpretations were, down to the most minute detail. Roman played with skillful subtlety. The tactful shift between staccato and legato, delicately plucked highs and elongated lows evoked grand, golden, glowing joy perfectly. Even when he was miserable, Roman was happier than Logan had ever been. Logan never stood a chance next to someone like him.

~

All the musicians had performed, but Roman hadn’t paid attention to any of them. He’d been too busy wrestling with the thought. Logan was better than him. He imagined Logan snickering with the other orchestra kids after tricking Roman into thinking he had even an ounce of talent, watching him parade around and brag while knowing the whole time what an absolute moron he was. His eyes stung. His heart sank.

"Folks, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for!”

Roman glanced up.

“All of the young musicians here tonight are extraordinarily talented, and we celebrate that with the Junior Musician Recognition Award!”

Applause.

The announcer cleared his throat. “This award is given annually to one student or performing group to celebrate those who have shown themselves to be valuable members of their musical communities as well as exceptional artists.”

Roman tried to hone in on what the announcer was saying but just slumped back into his seat. Come on, Roman! Isn’t this what you’ve been working for? This was what he wanted. A chance to prove he belonged here with everyone else, that his relentless dedication had paid off somehow. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel like he had before.

~

Valuable members of their communities. Logan would have laughed if he wasn’t afraid of disturbing the anticipating hush that had fallen over the crowd. All his music was just him, holed up in his room, ignoring everyone else so he could...what? So he could keep his mom happy? So he could have a reason to feel superior to everyone else? He didn’t think he qualified as a team player.

~

And what if he got the award? How would that feel? He wanted to get out of the room and never have to know the answer. He was afraid the award would make him feel exactly what he had wanted it to.

~

How much of this was because he enjoyed it? There was a time when he loved music, right? Wasn’t there?

~

He was also afraid of feeling nothing. That everything really would have been for naught.

~

“Would Patton Baker and Virgil Grayson please come to the stage?”

He clapped as Patton, a surprised but ecstatic grin on his face, joined Virgil on the stage to accept their certificates. The audience applauded, and then they were dismissed.

When he got home, he took a step back to examine himself. He felt...fine. He wasn’t upset about the award. He was worried about his mom, though. The car ride home had been spent in silence. He tried to glimpse how she was doing, but each facial feature had been carefully schooled to stony neutrality the whole way. Other than that, he felt oddly calm. Relieved, even. He collapsed on the bed, trying to bury himself in the mattress.

He thought about the piano against the wall of his bedroom. His mom had bought it when he was ten and proved that it would be worth the investment. The piano, new sheet music, lessons, audition fees--it all felt like she was giving a gift to herself. He had always wanted to put a bookshelf there.

What he had thought earlier. That there was a time when he had loved the piano. If he dug deep inside himself, he could find what something that resembled it--the satisfaction of a perfect run-through, the intense concentration that overtook him while learning a piece, the relief that came with the end of a recital or the ecstatic look on his mom’s face after he played. Piano was just another part of his routine. He couldn’t find so much as an ounce of himself that played just for playing’s sake.

~

The most talking they got to was arguing during an audition. They never had a proper, civil conversation until a few days after the recital. A knock came at the door while Roman was wrapping up his practice. He got up from the bench and opened it. “Oh. Hi.”

Logan nodded. “Hello. Um, can I come in?”

“Uh--”

“I-if you don’t, I understand completely. I wouldn’t like for my practice to be interrupted either, I just didn’t know where to find you, but the sign on the door outside said this room was reserved for you, so I figured I may as well take my chances.”

“I was going to say sure.”

“Oh.”

A moment passed before Roman stepped to the side. “Come on in.”

Logan closed the door and seated himself at a desk near the piano. Roman faced him. “What’s up?”

“I…” Roman saw his throat move as he swallowed. “We’ve never spoken.”

“Yeah…”

“And I just wanted to say. You were really good. You are really good, actually. Duets aside, you were the best person there.”

Roman scanned him for any sign of snark, but he seemed genuine. “Oh.”

“No, w-wait.” He took a deep breath. “Your technique is good. But your dedication and love for your music really shines through. You just...blow life into everything you play. I can’t imagine how meticulous you are.”

“I… Oh.”

“Actually, how did you go about learning the Papillons a couple years ago? That was very impressive. I’ve never tried to learn them, but I’ve been meaning to.”

Roman straightened. He could talk music. This was much more familiar territory. “I just picked a couple pages to learn,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously? That’s it? No other tricks or methods?”

“If there are such things, I don’t know them.”

“Really? None of that? Your teacher didn’t teach you how to drill a piece?”

“I don’t have an instructor.”

His jaw dropped. “You’re self-taught?”

“The last lesson I took was that program in elementary school.”

“Wow.” He stared at Roman, wide-eyed and quiet.

“I just practice a lot, I guess.”

“Do you usually do that here?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. When the room isn’t available, I usually go down to this music shop. The owner lets me use the piano there.”

“That’s incredible, Roman,” he said softly. “Sincerely.”

Roman’s face flushed with heat, and he looked away, chuckling. “Well, you’re not bad yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“No problemo.” He stuck out a hand.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to give you a handshake.”

“Why?”

“You seem like the handshake type. Now. C’mon.”

He rolled his eyes but shook his hand. “Anyway, I’m glad that Patton and Virgil got the award. I’ve seen them perform together before the recital. They’re quite a duo.”

He braced himself, but the mention of the recital didn't hurt him like he expected it to. His loss wasn't nearly as harrowing as he'd expected. After giving up on being better than Logan, it ceased to matter to him, but even now that he was feeling better, it didn't affect him. A part of him was even glad to have avoided the potential conflict after Patton and Victor-- He gasped. “Virgil!”

“What?”

“I just remembered, I’ve been calling him Victor for a year!”

Logan snorted. “And he never noticed?”

“I guess not? I should apologize!”

“Yes, you should,” Logan snorted.

Roman grinned. “You know, we could be quite a duo as well. With your talent and my dashing good looks, we’d be unstoppable.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re talented--” he began.

Roman had already stood up, striking a dramatic pose that sent Logan into another laughing fit. “Maybe that’s why the universe made us rivals. Our combined gifts would be too powerful.”

“Rivals? I wouldn’t go as far as that, there are tons of pianists at this school.”

“But how many are on par with you and I? The brightest of our age?” Roman tucked his sheet music under his arm.

“I--I can’t say I know,” he stuttered as he was tugged to his feet. “Quite a pair we’d make,” he mused.

“Dynamic!” Roman punched a fist in the air.

“Vivace,” he suggested.

“That doesn’t alliterate.”

Logan laughed, and Roman along with him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. And he could use someone to talk music with.

~

It became a regular occurrence for Logan to visit after school while Roman was practicing. However, Roman didn’t always practice in the same location. After walking a few blocks, they entered Sanders Music, the bell on the door dinging brightly. Logan glanced around. It would have been small to begin with, but the instruments and accessories adorning the walls furthered that effect. He watched his surroundings warily and stepped gingerly, hoping with all of his pounding heart he didn’t knock something over. His mother would not be happy if she had to pay a damage fine. Despite the worry-inducing surroundings, Roman strode in, spun around, and, with a flourish of his hand, announced “Welcome to the birthplace of my musical career.” What a place to begin. “It’s…” He hesitated, trying to pick through his words carefully.

Roman rolled his eyes fondly, clapping him on the back. “I know it’s cramped. And a bit stuffy. And probably not as fancy as what most musicians are used to, but this is really a place of magic. The kind of magic that turns a clueless little boy with nothing but fantasies of being extraordinary”--he placed a hand over his heart--“into a man with ambition and skill. Plus, Mr. Sanders is super chill.”

“Wait.” The name sounded familiar. Logan scoured his memory for it. “Mr. Sanders from elementary school?”

“Indeed!”

“Oh, no.”

He frowned. “What? Did I say--”

“No, no, it’s not you. I was just...absolutely insufferable as a child.”

"Technically, you’re still a child.”

"I suppose I could still be insufferable now and not know it. Am I?”

“A little.”

“Thanks."

“No problemo, andanti-nerd.”

“That wasn’t one of your better ones.”

“It certainly wasn’t,” he agreed. Roman pulled out the piano bench, sat, and rummaged through his bookbag, presumably for his sheet music. “So, what’re you learning now?”

“Me?” Logan said.

“I don’t see anyone else here.”

“Well, I haven’t really decided on a piece,” he admitted. “I think my mom’s still really upset after I didn’t...you know. With the award. So I’m trying to find something she’ll think more impressive and appropriate for a performance of that magnitude.”

“What do you want to play?”

His stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

Roman looked at him, deadpan, and stopped rustling his papers. “As in, what have you heard lately and thought, ‘Hey, that’s cool, I want to play it’?”

He looked away and shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

He raised an eyebrow. “Alright,” he said, and resumed, shuffling his sheet music and placing it on the stand. “Okay. You’re really into technical stuff, right? You seem like the type.”

“I guess?”

“So what’s your practice situation like?” He barely disguised a chuckle, turning his head away to face the piano. “Do you have, like, a schedule? A timer so you can make sure you do exactly an hour, or whatever? I bet you don’t move around as much as I do.”

“I guess not,” he muttered, picking at a loose string on his shirt. “My piano is in my room, so I stay pretty stationary.”

Roman’s jaw dropped. “You have a piano in your bedroom?”

“Yeah. Against one of the walls.”

His jaw dropped even further and gasped, reeling back. “You what? Nobody puts a grand piano in the corner!”

“Baby grand.”

“Regardless! I can’t believe you have an actual piano and you just...shove it in a spot like that.” His voice was tinged with bitterness. “Totally ruins the acoustics.”

“I...suppose.” Logan knew the physics of sound, but to be honest, ruining the acoustics had never really crossed his mind. Maybe he just didn’t care enough to realize that would be an effect. He took a deep breath, leaning against the wall for support. “Can I tell you something?” he said quietly.

“Sure.” His irritation softened.

“I don’t...I don’t believe I want to continue playing.”

“Whoa, what? Is this because of that stupid recital?” Roman stood up, his sheets swept off the stand in his wake. “Because you should know, they totally got that wrong. You were by far the best person there. I don’t see how--”

“No, it’s not--it’s not that. I just...I don’t know.” He sighed, glaring at the floor. “I don’t really...like. It. That much.”

“Then why would you do it for so long?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Roman gave him a knowing look.

“I--I guess. My mom. She really wanted me to…” He trailed off. He hated stuttering, how unsure he was of his words.

“Seriously, is it the award? Because you have serious talent, and it would be so wasteful to just throw it away like that--”

“No!” It came out louder than he intended. Roman flinched. He took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m--sorry. I just… I don’t know. Why do you play?”

“What?”

“Why do you play?” he repeated.

Roman blew out a long exhale. “I guess...I love it, but it’s not just that. It’s like a part of my identity. If someone took that away from me, I don’t know what I would be.”

Logan stared at the ceiling. “I don’t feel that way. I don’t think I ever have.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

He nodded.

“What’s your mom going to say?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought that far. “I don’t think I’m going to break it to her yet. What with the recital having happened so recently, it wouldn’t be an ideal situation.”

“Well. Whatever you decide, I...support you.” He leaned over awkwardly and patted Logan on the shoulder. “You’re actually pretty cool when you’re not, you know, roasting my taste in music--”

“Gee, thanks.”

“--and you’ll continue being really cool without the piano. It’s not a part of you. You don’t need it to be anything. You’re just...really good on your own.”

Logan swallowed thickly. His eyes stung, and he willed himself to hold back tears. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Roman smiled warmly. Logan's lips curved in response.

It was impossible for Logan to know what would come next. How his mother would react, whether or not he and Roman could be friends given their history. But for now, it was nice to be here, enjoying the company of someone who was willing to move at his same pace.

[littlespoonevan]

14 for the cuddle prompt! 🌸❤

anon said:14!!!!!💕💜💕💜💕 ily Ciara!!!!

anon said:13 plz plz plz u rock I love u

this is inspired by someone who fell asleep next to me on the bus. unfortunately it was a middle-aged woman and not a cute boy who i could’ve had the potential to cuddle with but, y’know, i gave that glory to evak instead lmao 

i hope you like it!!!!

14. In public + 13. Falling asleep

*

Isak slips onto the tram seconds before the doorsclose, huffing out a breath and gripping the pole to keep his balance as thetram takes off. Shifting his bag on his back, Isak glances around the car in avain attempt to find a vacant seat.

He silently curses the people who hoard seats whenthe tram is busy by purposefully sitting on the outside or using their bags totake up the extra space. He gets it, okay? If given the option, he doesn’t likesitting next to people on the tram either but he’s been up since 7:00 and he barelyslept last night and he just really wants to sit down.

Just as he’s about to accept his fate and sag againstthe pole in defeat, he notices someone moving their bag out of the corner ofhis eye. Looking up, he locks eyes with a boy who offers him a shrug andhalf-hearted smile that has Isak’s heart tripping over in his chest.

Because holy shit that boy is cute.

Squeezing the straps of his backpack between hisfingers he shuffles forward, taking a seat beside the boy with a quiet, “Takk.”

“There’s nothing worse than standing on the tram atthe end of a long day,” the boy says easily. “Especially when it’s busy.”

Isak smiles nervously, wracking his brain for somethingmildly charming to say but he takes too long and has to settle for awkwardsilence instead. He’s both relieved and annoyed at himself when the boy puts inhis earphones a moment later, effectively ending any attempts at conversation.

While the boy busies himself with staring out thewindow Isak gets comfortable in his chair, letting his bag drop to the floor tosit between his legs.

The thing about seats on trams is that, very often,you and the other person end up sitting with some part of your body touching.There’s simply not enough room for you to be concerned about your personalspace bubble. So Isak’s not all that surprised that he and the boy have to sitwith their arms and thighs pressed right up against each other. He expects that.

What he doesn’t expect is how nice it feels.

It’s just- he feels warm like this and the boy’s coatis big and feels a little bit like a pillow with the way it sinks under theweight of Isak’s shoulder. And Isak feels kind of hazy, mind going fuzzy fromthe heat of the tram and how little sleep he’s running on. He can’t help restinghis head against the backrest and it doesn’t take long for his eyes to start todroop. After an internal battle with himself he decides it can’t hurt to closehis eyes until his stop is announced.

Just for a few minutes.

*

Isak slowly drifts back into consciousness to thefeel of a hand jostling his arm. Blinking his eyes open, he shifts and takes asecond to bury his face deeper in his pillow before he can convince himself toget up except- that’s not his pillow.

Eyes widening in horror, Isak suddenly remembers he’son the tram and promptly launcheshimself upright. Still sitting beside him is the boy. The really pretty boywith the quiff and the comfy jacket and the little bemused smile.

The boy who Isak just fell asleep on.

Isak wants to die.

Before he can even find his voice to stammer out onapology the boy starts speaking. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you but I thinkyour stop is coming up.”

And that’s. What.

Isak gapes a little, grasping for a response that’sjust out of his reach. “I- what?”

The boy actually looks sheepish at that, glancingtowards the door before looking back to Isak. “I just- we usually get the sametram home and I noticed you always tend to get off the stop just before me.”

This…this boy has been on the tram with him before?

…Is Isak blind?

How the hell did he never notice him?

Isak is about to reply but then the tram crawls to a haltand, sure enough, announces his stop. “I’m- you’re right, this is my stop.” Hegathers up a bag and pushes himself to stand, hovering for a second and tryingto fight down the desire to just stay on the tram with the boy. “Thanks, um…”

“Even,” the boy supplies with a soft smile.

Isak returns it with his heart skipping a beat,hiking his bag up on his shoulder. “Thanks, Even.”

With that, he hurries off the tram just as the doorsare about to close.

*

The next day when Isak steps onto the tram he feels alittle thrill run through him at the sight of Even with an empty seat next tohim. Clinging to his courage with everything he has, Isak makes his way over.

“If I apologise for falling asleep on you yesterdaycan I sit down?”

Even’s face lights up right as he lets out a laughthat makes Isak’s insides melt. “Of course you can sit down.

“And I really don’t mind that you fell asleep,” hecontinues once Isak’s settled beside him. “You looked tired.”

Isak flushes at that, clearing his throatself-consciously. “Uh, yeah. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before so…”

Even nods in understanding before he nudges Isak’sside. “You know you still haven’t told me your name? I usually have a rule thatI know someone’s name before I let them fall asleep on me.”

Isak groans, burying his face in his hands. Hisinsomnia has made him do some dumb shit but falling asleep on a hot strangerhas to be the dumbest. “Please stop talking,” he begs, slowly lowering hishands when he hears Even laugh. His embarrassment is almost worth it to see theway Even’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. “And it’s Isak,” headds. “My name.”

“Isak,” Even repeats with a certain something in hisvoice that Isak can’t quite parse. “Well, Isak, do you feel like listening tosome music?” he asks, offering Isak one of his earbuds.

Isak takes it with a tentative smile, not quite surewhat’s happening right now but also not wanting to stop it. It’s only when he’sactually got the bud in his ear that Even stage-whispers, “I’ll even let youuse me as a pillow.”

Isak huffs and rolls his eyes to hide the fact hischeeks are still stained red but he might slouch down a little more in his seatat Even’s words. (He didn’t sleep last night either, okay?)

And it’s really nice. Whatever playlist Even has onis quiet – mostly acoustic songs that go easy on Isak’s ears after a long day –and the tram is warm but not the stuffy, sickly kind. Even doesn’t speak but he’sa comfortable weight beside Isak and he- he just-

Basically, it happens again.

One minute Isak is subtly leaning against Even’sside, the next he’s slowly being woken up to the sound of Even murmuring hisname and Even’s hand squeezing his arm.

Isak scrubs at his eyes with his left hand and raiseshis head off Even’s shoulder, meeting his gaze with an embarrassed smile andflushed cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Do you do this with every random stranger you meeton the tram or is it just me?” Even asks, voice soft and laced with quietamusement.

“Just you,” Isak admits and it feels like a muchgreater confession than it is.

Even eyes him for a moment, expression inscrutable,but then he smiles. “In that case I should probably start bringing a pillowwith me.”

“Your shoulder’s comfortable enough,” Isak’s stupid,sleep-muddled brain blurts out before he can stop himself. “I mean-“

“I’m flattered,” Even chuckles. “But I think we’re atyour stop now.”

With a jolt, Isak realises they are. He hadn’t evennoticed the tram slowing down.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Isak,” Even says, squeezinghis arm once more before letting go.

Isak has never hoped for a sleepless night more thanhe does right now.

*

It happens again the next day. And the day afterthat. And the day after that.

Isak spends the first half of his journey talking toEven and laughing at his jokes and trying to psych himself up to actuallyfucking ask him out before spending the rest of his journey asleep on Even’sshoulder until they get to his stop.

Honestly it’s a pretty good arrangement.

It’s been over a week of Isak’s poor attempts atflirting and needy cuddling when he finds himself on the tram once again withEven but there’s just one problem.

He’s not tired.

He had a good night’s sleep last night and he’s nottired and he only gets to cuddle Even when he’s asleep.

He’s having a crisis.

Their conversation has petered off by now and insteadthey’re sharing Even’s earphones while Even rhythmically bumps his knee againstIsak’s and this would be right around the time Isak normally drifts off. But he’swide awake today and hyperaware of crossing some weird boundary if he were tolean into Even right now without the excuse of sleep.

But he wantsto.

He wants to reach out and bridge the barely-there gapbetween them so bad.

Maybe…maybe he could just pretend to sleep? Just thisonce and then tomorrow he’ll actually get his act together and ask Even out.But right now he just slouches in his seat, letting his head drop onto Even’sshoulder and releasing a slow breath.

The thing about not actually being asleep for once isthat Isak gets to see what Even normally does while he is. That, apparently,involves Even resting his own head against the top of Isak’s and tracingpatterns over Isak’s arm – the sweetest, softest gestures that have Isak feelingclose to hyperventilating.

He holds his breath and holds himself still, afraidthat if he makes even the slightest movement that Even might stop touching him.

What he doesn’t anticipate is Even mumbling, “Isak,are you awake?”

Isak freezes, closing his eyes and swallowing hardbefore he makes a decision and catches Even’s hand, lacing their fingerstogether. “How’d you know?”

“You’re usually a dead weight when you sleep,” Eventells him. “And your breathing’s deeper.”

“I’m not tired today,” Isak murmurs, breath hitchingat Even’s thumb sweeping over the back of his hand.

“That’s okay,” Even replies quietly. “I guess myshoulder’s still irresistible?”

Isak huffs a laugh, turning his face into saidshoulder to hide his bashful smile. Even squeezes his hand and Isak’s heart isin his throat.

“Hey,” Even says, touching the fingers of his freehand to Isak’s jaw to make him look up. Their faces are only an inch apart andIsak can’t help the way his gaze drags down to Even’s lips.

“I know we’re kind of doing things backwards with thewhole comfortable intimacy thing but do you maybe want to get something to eat?”

Isak grins, butterflies erupting in his stomach as henods. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Even says, mouth turning up at the corners ashe gently bumps his forehead against Isak’s. “We can stay like this until mystop then.”

They stay like that long beyond the journey to Even’sstop.

*