#edit: I just found out about the animals being used as props thing. uh. I may or may not take back my earlier lack of dislike.

[lemonthepotato]

I don’t think Mr. Beast knows how the Streisand effect works

[ominous-feychild]

✦ Writerly Questionnaire ✦

Thank you so much for tagging me, @the-golden-comet!! This looks fun, and a lot of these are questions I love answering and wanted to share here eventually, anyway! 😊

About Me

When did you first start writing?

It depends on how you define that, and then what you consider "writing", haha. 😅😭 I started this one garbage self-insert fic when I was 8, but didn't get far into it, haha. Then I wrote at least 100 pages of a horrible novel in a notebook at age 11. I consider the time I "officially" started writing to be when I started consistently doing so in 2014... when I started roleplaying on Google+. Before long, I'd formed my own stories from ideas I'd come up with in those rps and eventually settled on working on writing with a single writing partner for 5 years. We have since parted ways as of almost 3 years now.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Yes and no? Here's the thing: I absolutely adore my niche genre of "high fantasy and Used To Magic So Barely Questions It, but placed in a world that resembles modern besides a variable lack of technology. Oh, and we focus more on the characters than anything else!" But, uh... at least as far as I've found, that really isn't common. Especially not stories that also play faeries for horror, which is one of my favorite things, haha. I'm very firm and comfy in my writing genre. I've dipped elsewhere, but they're a lot harder for me to write and nowhere near as fulfilling, haha. However! I do love reading other genres, too! I love superhero and superhero-esque stories, I like a good amount of those "video game stuff popped up in real life" things, and yeah! Lots more. So it's less of a thing of "not liking the genre I write" or even "not being able to find it" and more of a "I like writing something very specific, but still enjoy other stuff". 😊

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

Ohhh this is kinda a difficult question? Nobody's ever told me specifically whether or not I resemble any other writers, and I only want to "emulate" other writers very loosely? I compare my worldbuilding to Tolkein's because I've been working on it for almost 6 years, have steadily been building out individual cultures and half-creating languages, have literally done weeks' worth of research on Earth Sciences to be able to build out a planet that Works... and then half threw it all out when I came up with the Faewildes and realized I can bullshit it. 😂😅😭 (Note: I still do not fully bullshit it though. Just don't stress as much as I used to.)

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

Confession: I've moved around way too much and been way too poor to have any "solid" writing space that I'd like. I used to like going to cafes, getting some tea, and sitting by a window I could stare outside (and dissociate to) while hallucinating scenes before writing them. But for a long while, I've been too poor to be able to do that. It's actually probably one of the reasons I've struggled a lot to write recently now that I think about it... but oh, well. Since then, I tend to prop myself up in my bed with my stuffed animals and squishmallows forming a throne of sorts as I write. (Helps prevent back/neck pain, or at least push its onset back.)

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Editing my old writing and listening to The Story's Music! It helps me get back into the headspace of the relevant character(s) and it brings my mind back into the "prose writing" state. (Clarification: 99% of the music I listen to is associated with an entire story, one of my characters, a specific scene, or some combination of the above. It's both fun and one of my oldest ways of tricking my AuDHD brain into writing!)

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Ha... the trauma sure did!

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Trauma, discrimination, and poverty. No, they do not surprise me, because they've all been a huge part of my life. SaS is a rare exception because (as I was initially creating it for a writing contest) I specifically created it to be very mainstream... but also mixed in a lot of my personal interests to get me through it. However, I think those themes (minus poverty in the MCs) still shine through, they're just a lot more subtle.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Technically, dare I say, a LOT of my characters are "among my favorite characters". However, as I've gone on record saying, it's probably Gene, one of the MCs of the Arcane Rifts, haha. However! Since I already have an Ask in my inbox about him (I'll get to those eventually, I swear 🙏) I'll go elsewhere! I think among my top favorite characters would probably be Carmin, Basil, Caron, Xao (pronounced "How", and yes he never hears the end of it), Tobin, Sammy, and Quinn! Tbh I definitely could've listed more, as I said, I love most of them-- Quinn, though! Is the son of the Existence of Fate, one of the "oldest gods" of my stories. He's forced to see all of time, always. That mistake he made 300 years ago? Almost literally burned into his brain. That mistake you made five seconds ago? Also there. Something happening on the complete other side of the world? Yep. And actions people will commit 500 years from now? You betcha. Except, the "future" events can change, and more drastically so the further they are in the future. Butterfly effect and all. He and his mother, Fate, are constantly doing things in pursuit of... what? Well, they have a plan... but I obviously can't say, haha. Dude's horribly traumatized, though--he's constantly witnessing every single atrocity ever committed and has even watched others that would've been committed played on repeat in his mind until he found a Timeline that prevented it. He's long-since grown used to it, but also consider... his own life is in there. Nothing that happens to him will ever be a surprise. Not except for when he creates a new timeline by changing events that should've otherwise happened. That's why he's constantly telling jokes and being obnoxious to people he doesn't like--to humor himself for the small moments they're new to him. Kid's (he's frozen at a young age because powerful magic + ageless-immortality) depressed af... but it's okay. He's working towards something he believes in. So why are Quinn and Fate actively doing horrible things if they want to make things better? Guess you'll have to find out! In ten-thousand years when I finally write the reveal. (I love Quinn so much istg--)

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Oh, that's hard. Probably Gene! Maybe Freya, but definitely Daleira and Faer! Here, let me just-- Probably: Gene, Mislav, Faer, Liesel, Maritza, Grimnir, Caron Definitely: Daleira, Damaris, Ludmila, Rada, Carmin, Cricket Possibly: Freya, Crow (but I'd possibly find them irritating / overwhelming), Adilzhan, Caspar, Soren, Zarina, Basil (Half of the "probably/possibly"s is because I'm not sure if they'd like me. Especially Zarina. Omfg I love her so much but idk if she'd like me at all.)

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Oh, dear. This is a difficult question. I'll start with characters you guys know--Tazin and Valyarus. Hands down. Tazin because he's way too loud/crude and he would both overstimulate me and piss me off to no end. Valyarus, well... because he's an egotistical, rich prick. Enough said? But actually? Half of the Existentials. Order especially, Fire, and Storm. Perhaps not so coincidentally, all of the "top gods" besides Fate herself...

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

So it depends on the character and why I'm creating them! There's a few different ways one of my characters can come to be, but uh... we'll start with explaining Oska's creation! So, from the beginning, Oska was created to just be the leader of the khonitva (a gang). Originally, he was going to have a rather small role in the story--the khonitva and the reason he was the leader were more important. His main role in the first draft was showing up at a REALLY bad time, capturing the relevant MC(s), and killing another character. So all I worked on was his personality (it related to how/why he was the leader) and his motives. He became an angy man out for vengeance and basically nothing else. Then I expanded on tAR, turning it from a duology to... well it'll be 5 or 6 books now. 😅 The first two books would spend more time in Kavo (the town Gene lives in), and so Oska's character expanded. A MASSIVE part of his character was tied to the death of his brother, so I did a little expanding on his brother, and he had a "sidekick" in Rieka, the khonitva's healer who (even from early drafts) had romantic feelings for him (but at the time they weren't mutual; Oska had too much anger for his brother's death). Oska's character has perpetually been focused on his brother's death and his role as the leader of the khonitva, so I simply expanded it so that--rather than just being the leader--he cared for the khonitva like a family because it was the only bit of "family" he had left. So uh... I guess I focus on the most important part(s) of the characters relative to the story, then expand on them? That's the "role in the story" method I flesh out a character, at least, haha. Otherwise, if I'm just trying to create something with a very VAGUE role/idea, I'll often look at writing prompts, artwork, the literal superpower wiki, and fandoms I'm not part of for something to make me start to think. Y'know, have ideas. I'd get into an example, but this section is already pretty long, haha!

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

COUGH the social Others or socially-othered COUGH impoverished and/or exploited COUGH abused by a parental figure COUGH abused in general COUGH neurodivergent and/or gay COUGH, WHEEZE, HACK-- Ugh, sorry, idk what just happened there. Probably the fact that a lot of them are socially awkward, have anxiety, have a "different" way of communicating, and/or are emotionally withdrawn? And I accidentally give my autism to a lot of them. 😎😭

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

Through Pinterest boards! I have aphantasia and can't really see things in my head very well (if at all), so I'll use Pinterest boards to collect images that have the Vibe™ or characteristics of my individual characters... which is incredibly difficult for my inhuman or even more ordinarily diverse characters. Like, I'd get into a tangent about "why is 90% of art on the internet of white and/or conventionally attractive people" but uh... I don't think I have to here. Anyway! Yeah, a lot of my characters, I'll have vague ideas/impressions of what they look like and seek things out along those lines. Freya, for example, I basically immediately knew to have poofy red hair like Brave's Merida. Some characters are a lot harder, because I think I know a certain thing is a fact... when apparently I saw them as a completely different race without realizing??? (RIP White Rada for example. I was actively TRYING to make a majority of tAR's characters white because they're so xenophobic but no. 😅)

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

I used to space out and "hallucinate" scenes of my writing while going about my day. It was my way of coping with the rest of my life, which really wasn't great. (I mean it still isn't now but, y'know. It's much better!) Since I started working on novels, my goal has shifted. I mean--I still write for myself and my own enjoyment first and foremost. But I don't just want to write for myself--I also want to write for others. Here, let me just share a majority of my bio from Tapas--

I'm an autistic woman who's lived through a variety of experiences and places, and like to include things reflecting that. Diverse characters, cultures, environments, and politics (different within each in-story location!) appear in my writing. I like weaving life lessons--through the experiences of relatable characters--into the stories I tell. Many people see themselves or the people around them reflected in the characters they see in books, so I think it's helpful for people to be able to see those same kinds of people within fiction so they can reflect on the relationships within their own lives.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

THEORIES!!!

I absolutely love it when people theorize because:

I put oh-so many mysteries and hints toward Truths

it shows they're paying attention

it shows they care enough to try to pick out the pieces and put them together!

I can see how well I'm doing with the seeding of hints if people are noticing them... even/especially if they realize they're important but don't know how/in what way!

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

Oh dear, you're trying to out me as an egotist now, aren't you?

WELL CONGRATS, I'M FALLING FOR IT--

I'd like to think of myself as a writer who does amazing worldbuilding and makes realistic characters, so... obviously it'd be awesome if others thought of me the same way, haha. I mean, otherwise, I'd really just prefer people enjoy my writing in general? Tbh I don't have any other goals besides enjoying it myself and making others happy with it.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I would say realistic and diverse characters. I'm a huge fan of psychology, love learning about other cultures, and listen to the stories of people from a lot of various backgrounds. I like to think those things allow me to write characters with a variety of backgrounds, worldviews, and personalities.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Nobody's necessarily said it's my "greatest" strength, but the most common compliment I receive about my writing is that it's very easy to read and picture what I'm describing!

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

Uhm... this is a difficult question to answer. I like my stories, but I struggle with prose. I overthink a lot and sometimes have a very hard time describing things in good part because of my aphantasia, but it can be very validating to hear when I do a good job with it.

I have a lot more fun creating the ideas and maybe even making outlines than I do actually writing them--but I'm pretty sure that's kinda normal, haha?

My writing today is very different from what it was 3 years ago, back when I was still writing with my old RP partner (we'd planned to publish together). It was a lot more grimdark before, and tbh I never liked that and only came to terms with that after we parted ways. Then, I put my time and effort into working on tAR (solely my own work even then), clearing out a lot of the grimdark-ness, and building it out to what it is today. I'd temporarily abandoned our old projects because I needed to cut her stuff out, but didn't know how to, and it was painful to try.

it was only a handful of months ago that I revisited my old works with her and found that it's no longer painful. So I've finally been bringing together my old worldbuilding with the kind of writing I want to make today--which still requires a lot of changes and updating.

In short: I love writing, though it can be very emotionally-loaded. I have a lot of insecurities relating to the quality thereof, but I'm pretty sure that's universal, haha.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Of course! Though it'd likely be more outlines than actual prose, haha. After all, I primarily write for myself first and foremost.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

Yes and no; so it's a mix of the two. The priority, of course, is what I enjoy writing. However, I do want to become a published author and (hopefully) live primarily off of it one day. That goal means I also have to cater somewhat to what I know other people will like/what makes sense to them.

However, I don't particularly think that's a problem in my case! In application to tAR, I refuse to change it in a lot of its core ways--aka the multiple plots going on at once, the MCs starting as children, the mixture of invented words from their native language, and the fact that it doesn't cleanly fit into any genre--so figuring out how to make it otherwise palatable for others to read is more of a fun challenge for me actually!

SaS is different, however. I purposely made it very mainstream due to initially starting it for a contest (which has since ended), and I think those clichés make it much less enjoyable for me than it otherwise would be. But that can still be changed! I'm working on building out SaS as you read this--that's part of why I focus on it with Asks--so hopefully I'll come to love it half as much as I do tAR!

(And, I mean, to be fair, SaS has been growing on me lately! So it seems to be working at least a little! I think SaS was also very unique for my stories in that I made it to be a story rather than picking out events that I already saw happening in the world I've made, so it's been harder to get into it in general.)

Looks like I've rambled more than I should again, haha. 😅😭 Hope it was still worth reading and/or that you guys enjoyed it anyway??

Tagging (with no pressure): @honeybewrites @yourpenpaldee @the-letterbox-archives @darkandstormydolls

Divider by @cafekitsune

[dearlydecayed]

Soup for Shigaraki

Mmm yes first fic. No idea how this works, so just do whatever Tumblr users do if ya like it ig Summary: You're a member of the league when Shigaraki falls ill, and of course doesn't take care of himself. Being the good villain Samaritan you are, you do it for him.

Pre-relationship (?)

Word Count + Warnings: 1,665 - Sfw, Shiggy swears at you and is a bastard in general, and descriptions of sickness. Not beta read.

-----

It's been three whole days since you'd seen him- since anyone else had seen him for that matter.

The entire league was off doing busy work to kill time; little side-missions and personal vendettas to fulfill while they waited. While you waited. While the world waited.

Shigaraki couldn't exactly lead a revolution while bedridden.

Dabi and Toga had left the base a few minutes ago, Dabi huffing in general annoyance while the latter trailed behind cheerily. She had invited you along, but you declined. You had someone to check on.

Pushing yourself off the counter you had been leaning against, you turned to the broad and decrepit expanse of cabinets that made up the bar. The top rows were filled with glasses, cups, and bottles, so you worked off a foggy memory as you scrounged the lower levels. Sure enough, your hands made contact with a singular dusty can. Aha. Pulling it out, you grimaced at the expiration date but nonetheless cranked the lid open with the pocket knife you carried. Red liquid sloshed in the tin, and you gave it a cursory sniff. At least it still smelled like tomato soup.

Rummaging through another drawer, you found a clean-ish spoon and rinsed it off in the sink. Unable to find a pot, you made your way over to the small stove-top in the corner.

The scent of gas filled the air as the ancient device clicked to life, and you were reminded of why no one used it when Dabi was around. Placing the can directly on the burner, you couldn't help but hum to drown out the sound of metal scrapping metal as you stirred the broth; steam wafting through the air as it began to boil.

The best you could manage for a hot pad was a tattered rag as you took the tin off the stove; and let the scent of tomato soup soothe your concerns of expiration. Dipping a finger into the cooling liquid, you confirmed that it tasted about right too.

Now for the tricky part...

Same as when you'd checked it earlier, his door was locked. The hallway was as silent as it had been for days, and worry crept into your periphery as you again pulled out your pocket knife. Picking the lock was an easy feat, and you soon stepped into your leader's dark room, tin can in hand. You'd only observed the space in passing prior to this, and you took a moment to take it all in.

It was a lot more cluttered than you had anticipated, his walls lined with shelves of fandom paraphernalia and books. Dark clothes littered the floor and haphazardly hung off a hamper in the corner- interlocked with junk food wrappers and boxes.

You would've lingered longer at the sight if a pathetic sniffle hadn't caught your attention; your gaze drawn to a slumped pile on his bed.

There, your noble leader lay snot-faced and unconscious as his throat rasped with every breath. His face lacked its usual paleness, instead graced with a red flush, and you knew his temperature would be scorching by the sweat on his brow. Regardless, you set the can down on his desk, and sat yourself on edge of his bed.

Before moving further, you closed your hands on both of his wrists. Instantly, his arms relaxed, rendering his hands immobile for the near future. Benefits of a paralysis quirk included immobilizing your delirious boss, apparently.

You then confirmed your prior hunch as you placed a palm against his forehead, clammy skin shuddering at your touch. A gurgled groan escaped as he squirmed under your hand, his brow furrowing as some form of consciousness returned to him.

His eyes still closed, a croaky "Kurogiri..?" was offered as you propped him up against some pillows.

"Mm. Afraid not, boss"

In the moments it took him to process your words, you moved the soup can to in between your thighs, bringing a spoonful of liquid into the air in front of him. His bleary eyes opened a few times, clearly straining to gain some awareness and failing miserably as they fell shut again.

You shushed him, and readjusted. "Shh shh, 's just me, boss. I've got some nice, warm soup for ya." To illustrate your point, you teased the spoon to lightly rest against his chapped lips, desperately hoping he remained passive instead of really waking up and throwing a fit.

Blessedly, he did no such thing.

Rather, his lips finally parted and you were able to ease the spoon in, letting the liquid fall into his mouth. He swallowed, made a noise, and you took it as a sign to get another spoonful.

Time became irrelevant as you spoon fed him, his tense shoulders falling and his face relaxing as soup levels fell. The only sounds in the whole base were his raspy breaths and the spoon scraping against the can.

When the can was about half-way empty though, he became fussy and pursed his lips again, refusing the spoon. You also noted that his fingers were beginning to twitch, and you took it as a definite sign to bolt.

However, you didn't leave until he was laid back down and tucked in.

A cup of water left on his bedside table, you locked the door on your way out.

-----

"What the fuck are you doing."

Rather than a writhing mass on his bed, you were greeted the next day with a much more conscious Shigaraki.

Reheated soup in hand, you stood dumbly as the door clicked shut behind you.

The next few moments were tense as he stared you down, before being interrupted by a painful cough racking through him. As he tore open a lung, you let your gaze drift to his bed side table where an empty glass stood.

"Oh good, you drank some water."

His scarlet glare was again directed at you after briefly glancing at the table himself, and he sneered. "The fuck do you want."

You blinked at him, and raised the can up a bit. "Y' want more soup?"

This seemed to catch him off guard, and his bleary eyes met with the soup can for the first time since you entered. He sniffled, and moved to sit up. "Give it to me then get the fuck out." You raised your hands in surrender and stepped forward to pass the can to him. Sure enough, he snatched it like a feral animal and almost went to chug it before he noted the ragged edges were you had sawed it open, and instead went for the spoon with a petulant grumble. "D' ya need anything else or-"

"Fuck off."

"Mk."

Toga had asked later why you were buying chicken noodle soup, and you told her it was for emergencies. -----

He was sitting up and playing on a handheld device when you entered the next day.

Though sweat still clung his brow, his face had regained its normal paleness and his eyes were noticeably sharper when they snapped to you.

His gaze rather quickly re-centered on the new can of soup and glass of water your were holding however, and you stepped forward with a chuckle to set both on his side table.

Game forgotten, it was tossed down to the foot of his bed as he downed the glass you had given him. Before leaving, you glanced to the screen and recognition sparked in your gaze. "Oh, is that the newest installment?"

Now sipping at the remaining liquid, he eyed you over the rim and grunted in hesitant confirmation.

"Do you have the gold or platinum edition? I can't tell by the level you're on."

"S' gold," he croaked.

You hummed in acknowledgment, and left his room yet again.

-----

The next day, you walked right into his chest rather than his room.

"Ah," you offered after stepping back. "I guess you don't need anymore soup then?"

He stepped out into the hallway too, looming over you as you stepped back further into the wall. Red eyes clear as the night you had met him, he stared down at you while reaching for the can.

Four fingers brushed against yours as he took the soup from your hand, and he turned silently to walk down the hallway into the main gathering area.

Kurogiri took that moment to warp in, startling then quickly fussing over Shigaraki as he nonchalantly spooned the soup into his mouth.

-----

Life of course resumed after his recovery, and you quickly forgot about the night spent nursing your boss back to health as business continued as normal.

It wasn't until many nights later that you had any time to yourself, let alone him after days of making up work.

You had been sitting on a tattered couch well into the night, scrolling aimlessly on your phone when a plastic bag was thrust unceremoniously into your lap. Not looking up, you scrambled to unbag it when you saw liquid begin to cling to the plastic.

Pulling the warm container out and holding it upright, your brow furrowed at the sight. Sure enough, a styrofoam container of soup was sitting in your hands.

It was then that you looked up, and were unsurprised to see Shigaraki looming awkwardly near you. His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets, and his eyes seemed determined to rest anywhere but you.

Not wanting to be rude to the man who disintegrates people on a whim, you offer an "Uh, thanks?"

He tches at you, and turns to leave. "I fuckin' hate soup," Is all he offers before he disappears around the corner, and his door slams shut.

You shrug, and pop the lid off to check the damage. It had spilled a bit in the bag, but was still a hearty portion. A plastic spoon was even attached at the side, and you plucked it off as you snuggled in to the couch.

You couldn't place the flavor, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Four

Ao3,   Masterpost,   C.1  C.2  C.3

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships

tumblr edits out my italics when i copy/paste, and its midnight on a school night, so. italics arent in the tumblr version of this chapter cuz im not manually replacing them rn :P

Warnings: Taxidermy, swearing, fights (verbally, not physically), mentions of death, sexual innuedo (thanks remus), sympathetic everyone but there is Conflict. 

Word Count: 2,645

Patton had learned, in his many years of emotion-filled life, that every person interacted with others uniquely. An obvious thing to learn, maybe, but in his younger years he felt like it really wasn’t made clear enough.

When it finally hit Patton that other people didn’t feel things in just the same way he did, it came with slow disbelief. Shocked was he to learn that not only were people so vastly different inside, but that he might’ve been one of the most different of all- even with the other sides. After all, each of them had seemed to understand all their differences like it was second nature, while Patton tried to come to terms with the information.

And come to terms with it he had, throughout Thomas’ late teens to early twenties. It was just Patton’s nature to try and learn about his friends, and that didn’t change when the task got harder. If anything, he’d become furiously determined to know how to care for all his family better than anyone, even if it more than once sent him spiralling in thought.  

Logan, for example, was at his best when he was around other people; calmly talking, debating, doing work in the same space, anything that amounted to time spent together. So, even when Patton didn’t know what he was going on about, he did his best to at least be someone Logan could talk at. Which must’ve have worked somehow, because Patton couldn’t even count the times anymore he’d realized it had been hours after starting a conversation with his best friend, the both of them grinning and talking and enjoying each other’s company. Color Logan understood!

Roman, an even easier case to crack, didn’t really care what kind of attention he got- as long as it was positive. Which Patton was of course happy to provide! Though Roman became easily suspicious of any signs of friendship, Patton liked to think he’d weaseled his way into being a close companion, if the amount of times Roman dragged him off on adventures was any indication. Roman, too, was a check! 

Virgil had been harder to figure out; not enough support and he got nervous, too much and he’d get overwhelmed. Fine balances did not come easily to Patton, so there had been more than a little trial and error. He’d eventually landed on treating him not unlike a wild cat: to just exist in the same space and let Virgil do whatever he wanted in his own time (a method that had found resounding success!). Virgil, much as he wanted to seem mysterious, was also marked off the list of understanding. 

Janus was deceptively easy to work out. He just needed someone to challenge him, all in good sport, to be friendly and frustrating at the same time. Call it environmental enrichment, but with people! Patton was more than happy to be one of those people, pushing and pulling in equal parts banter and genuine conversation. Janus, surprisingly, was clear as well. 

Patton wondered if it was weird to think about it so much. He thought about all of them, and he wondered if they took time to decode him, too. Or maybe they just knew already- they saw the heart on his sleeve (or chest, as it were) and had him all figured out right then.

He liked to believe they did spend time thinking about it, though. It was nice to think he wasn’t the only one that cared enough to take the time, and he knew that they cared about him already! Even if they didn’t say it as much as he did, even if they showed it all differently, and even if sometimes it felt like they didn’t understand him… 

They still cared. The hoodie around his shoulders said so. The card framed on his wall said so. The stray dog dander on his clothes said so. So long as he had that, who needed the luxury of understanding?

Patton shook his head, no, he wasn’t worrying about all them right now. Right now, there was someone else to worry about.

Remus. Remus, who always chatted on and on, but sometimes went dead quiet for no reason at all; whose expression never seemed to match his words, who laughed when he was happy and when he was angry, who yelled when he was bored and when he was overwhelmed. Remus, who threw himself around a corner for a cheap jumpscare every five minutes, limbs broken and wrapped in ragged, punk-style clothes. Who would also drape himself all the way across Patton gently and calmly, wearing something baggy and impossibly soft (but still neon as ever), talking and talking and acting like it was all perfectly normal. Remus, who Patton wasn’t even sure was officially his friend yet.

Patton wanted him to be. But there was still… something in the way. Some kind of frustrating, tense, unknowable barrier that left him on edge around the trait. If Remus could just tell him something, anything, or give him any hints at all about what Patton was supposed to make of him, then it wouldn’t be so downright impossible. But he was inscrutable, an open book written in a language Patton didn’t know.

Whenever Remus walked into the room, it was almost like nothing had even changed since his acceptance. 

Speaking of-

Patton barely had time to dodge out of the way as Remus leapt onto the couch, landing in a sprawl and taking up as much space as possible. He looked out of breath, so he’d probably booked it down the hallway and stairs, too. Just as probable was him having no reason for doing so at all. 

“Hello,” Patton said.

Remus, from his laid down position, arched his neck up until he was peering upside-down at Morality. He had a reserved look in his eyes, but it was obvious he was fighting not to grin. 

“Guess what I did.”

Patton paused. There were… a lot of ways that could go. Most of them weird.

“Um-”

Remus made a disturbingly accurate buzzer noise, exclaiming, “Took too long!”. He flipped over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his palms, his legs draped over the arm of the couch, and rocked back and forth excitedly. “I made you something!” 

The worry slipped out of Patton’s mind, replaced by curiosity. He hummed, smiling, and asked:

“Like a gift?” 

Remus beamed.

“Something like that!”

As Patton laughed by response, he ran his thumb compulsively over his bead bracelet (that he hadn’t taken off even once since getting, of course). 

“That’s so sweet!” he chirped, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The Duke puffed out a breath, ruffling the white section of his hair. He rolled his eyes and shifted around, pushing up until he sat upright. 

“Yeah, I know. Haven’t we done this dance before, Morey?”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Patton shrugged, his expression turning sheepish, “What is it, then?”

Remus’ grin widened in that almost impossibly way of his, and something about the glint of his teeth was distinctly threatening. It probably wasn’t intentional, but Patton could never really tell, when his claws tapped impatiently against his leg and something mischievous wormed into his expression.

“Well, you have to close your eyes, first!” Remus clapped his hands together, and there that glint seemed to get brighter.

“Oh, uh-”

“It’s not gonna be my dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Patton yelped, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. 

“Well I wasn’t worried before you said that!”

Remus shrieked with laughter. Patton didn’t move his hands from his cheeks, a flush of discomfort starting at his ears and pricking his skin. 

“You’re hilarious, but no- not this time, at least,” -Remus winked- “But just close your eyes, okay?”

Patton took a couple deep breaths, glancing up to give Remus his best approximation of a stern glare. He then let his hands drop to his lap, palms up, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

There was a soft whoosh, and something small was dropped into Patton’s waiting hands. He ran the pad of his thumb over its surface, tracing something like fur. Soft, short fur, but when he pressed it was far too stiff to be a plush animal. 

“Remus,” Patton felt along the object with both hands, jolting when he felt something scaly at the end, “What-��

“You can look now!”

Patton did as told, staring down at his lap. 

There laid a rat. 

A dead one, to be precise. A dead, taxidermized rat, posed up on its hind legs like some goofy little cartoon character. It’s eyes were impersonal glass orbs, but its skin was perfectly, horribly real.

Patton looked up, his eyes wide with disgust, to see unfiltered excitement shining on Remus’ face. 

“I made it myself!” His pride echoed in the words, that grin stretching his lips looking all the more unnatural.

It was then that Patton’s body caught up with his brain, and he realized what exactly he was holding. He dropped it- all but threw it, actually- kicked it and scrambled back and anything to just get away. 

The gift fell to the floor with a dull thump, toppling under the coffee table and out of sight. Patton pressed his hand against his mouth, the other one tightly fisted in his lap. He felt sick- sick enough that his brain was leagues away from rationality. Because he’d really touched- held- that corpse, that thing that used to be a cute little critter, what was now a homemade trinket of horror.

He turned his attention back to Remus, and a million thoughts and feelings rushed him. Betrayal, horror, fear- and weirdest of all was surprise.

Remus’ smile twitched, and he tipped his head from side to side.

“You dropped it,” he pointed out, “I thought you liked rats?”

The noise Patton made was something between a gasp and a cry. 

“I like alive ones!” He exclaimed, pushing himself back until there was a good cushion’s distance between himself and Remus. 

Remus’ smile dipped lower. 

“Well, this way you don’t have to take care of it! It’s all of the cute with none of the trouble!”

“You think this is cute?!” 

He couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything- he hadn’t gotten through to Remus even a little? It was all still a game for him to terrorize Patton? To shove dead things into his lap and laugh about it?

But Remus wasn’t laughing, strangely. In fact, he was very still. 

“You don’t like it?”

In hindsight, Patton would look back on what he said with remorse so strong it gave him headaches. He had scores of memories like that, of course, but this one’s sting would never fade, not even long after they’d moved on from it. But in that moment of fear, of revile, he could not think about anything else but the feeling of being tricked by his almost-friend laying heavy in his stomach. 

“Like it? Is this- are you joking? Remus, you made me touch a dead animal! I thought we were starting to be friends, but- oh my God, what is wrong with you?!”

Patton was sure he stopped breathing right after he said that, his voice choking out. In the silence that followed, you could’ve heard a pin drop. 

Remus stood up, and everything about the way he moved showed a woundedness that didn’t suit him. He looked at Patton with an awful intensity, his ruby-red eyes practically glowing. There was nothing vulnerable about him when he was hurt, nothing at all like how Patton would respond to something like an argument. There was only anger and tension.

He didn’t smile, but his voice stayed pitchy. Gleeful. 

“Everything,” Remus hissed, “I thought you’d catch on before now, but.”

Remus spun on his heel, and the floor beneath him bubbled with oil and acid and plague as he sank into the ground and out of the living room. The carpet shriveled, sick-green, in his wake.

That was when the understanding hit him. A lot like a train. 

“Oh, no,” whispered Patton, “Oh, no.”

Patton struggled to his feet, as if on autopilot. Was he going to go after Remus? No, no, that definitely wouldn’t go over well. He was probably halfway into the Imagination by then, anyway, ready to take his anger out on his creations and not do any talking at all. 

Patton tore his eyes away from the spot where Remus had sunk out, stumbling over to the coffee table instead. He crouched, reached his hand under it, and let his fingers touch the fur of his discarded present. He grabbed it, looked down at it. The wave of nausea when he saw the little rat was now less disgust, and much more regret. 

He cradled the preserved creature in his hands with all the gentleness he could. There was a slip of thick, yellowish paper attached to it, that in all the upset had gone completely unnoticed. It was folded in half, tied with twine to the rat’s neck. 

Patton looked into the rat’s shiny, empty eyes for far too long, watching his reflection be distorted by the spheres. He took a shuddering breath, then, and thumbed the edge of the paper, felt its grain, and flipped it open. 

“This is Jenner. You can have him, because even if you’re a priss, if you can handle me you can handle having cool shit like this. Plus, you’re weirdly nice to me, so I guess I don’t mind being nicely weird to you.

-R (the funnier one <3)”

Patton read the note once. Twice. Three, four, maybe six times the words ran over each other in his head.

The paper slipped from his fingers. He held his rat in both hands and stared down its coffee-brown snout. Patton couldn’t help bringing the figurine to his chest and hugging it tightly, like it was the thing he’d hurt so badly, serving as surrogate. Its sharp fingers and tail poked through his shirt like needles, but he ignored it, holding the irrational hope that the inanimate object could forgive him somehow. 

Jenner was creepy, that was probably intentional; his proportions and pose were so uncanny it couldn’t have been an accident. And it was so, so very Remus of a thing that Patton couldn’t stand to hate it. His shift in view was so sudden, and in some sad way he realized that the conflict had been the final piece he’d needed. What let that understanding crash into Patton’s mind, painting the picture of somebody layered.

The picture of Remus, who he was, had finally clicked into place- and at the exact worst time for it to do so.

Patton had fucked up. Massively. 

He didn’t react how he thought he would when he realized it. He didn’t grow weary and exhausted, desperate to apologize and then collapse into unthinking sleep for days. Gone was the emptiness of making promises that he hoped he could hold true on, just wanting to have gotten it right the first time. No, Patton felt something burning under his skin, something itching him to take action because he’d learned from a mistake. He knew exactly what he’d done, and he was ready to do better right damn now. 

Patton breathed in deep and exhaled sharp, because first… 

He sunk out to his room, Jenner tucked into the crook of his elbow. He rose up at his bedside and shoved a handful of knickknacks off the nightstand. With enough space cleared, Patton set his rat down on the table and stood it up on his alarm clock, facing the bed. And then, as just a final touch, he smoothed back the fur of its head and gave it a peck on the forehead.

Now, he had some planning to do. 

Chapter Five

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

[lady-of-lies]

King of your heart

A/N: Just one more prompt and I’m back on track!! This is just a cute little blurb written in all haste and as all the other fics I’ve posted lately it’s not at all edited, but I hope someone finds joy between the words

Prompt: “This isn’t working, is it?”

Word count: 949

Warnings: None at all!

Loki Laufeyson x reader

It was finally here! The most wonderful time of the year had finally arrived!, yeah, right, what a load of crap that was. This part of the year has not been any different from the rest besides that it now is freezing cold and you need a million layers of clothing just to step out the door. Still, you prefer this weather to the inhuman heat waves washing in on the country every summer, in your own words ‘it was hot enough to get everyone roasted’, a pun that, mind you, against popular belief had been very well received. 

Even if there were a lot of things with this holiday season causing you more problems than enjoyment, there is one thing that will bring a smile to your lips every time. Figure skating, or just skating in general, if there's ice involved you were in, simple as that. When a certain god sauntered in to your life, quite literally, you didn’t know of his chilly heritage. You had found out by accident one time during the cursed summertime a few months ago, and ever since you had loved him even more. It must have been fate, if there was such a thing out there, that is.

You had been laying the groundwork for the past few weeks now, you had been sucking up to him left and right, being overly sweet, baking him those cookies he loves so much despite them being a ‘midgardian miniature’ of whatever cookies they had back in his beloved Asgardian palace. Dating a literal prince had its pros and cons, mostly pros, but when it came to normal everyday chores such as laundry or cooking he was hopeless. But you loved him nevertheless. You wanted him to come ice skating with you tomorrow, you wanted to show him the only holiday activity worth trying. It would have been an easy feat if he wasn’t as stubborn  as a donkey’s backside.

You approached him with caution, much like you would a scared animal. He sat in his usual spot by the window, feet propped up on a nearby table, a book in his lap lazily kept in place with two fingers and head relaxing against a Christmas pillow. Moreover, that pillow is one of the few Christmas decorations you allowed into your home, it reflected you holiday spirit perfectly, and quite frankly summed up Loki’s entire character in two simple words “Oh deer”. Both funny and useful, the perfect combination.

You stood still, silently watching him for a while, contemplating if this really was a good idea. Your nerves were all on edge and you made a mental note to never wear a shirt with cufflinks when trying to ask important questions. It was now or never. You had to get it out before you changed your mind and just walked away again. You started with a careful yet noticeable clearing of your throat to catch his attention. He didn’t look up from the old pages of parchment but you knew he was listening to you thanks to the slight rising of his right eyebrow.

“Loki, I was uh… I was wondering… If you, might, you don’t have to by any means, but it would make me very happy if yo-”

You had started to word vomit. Great. And you would have continued on with that if you hadn’t been stopped by a curious gaze sent your way accompanied with a loud thud as the book that he had previously been reading snapped shut. His feet were no longer resting on the table and his very regal, and to be honest, somewhat degrading position, told you that you now had his full attention. 

“You’re stalling, my dear. What is it?”

It was a simple sentence, yet he managed to calm you down with so little. It amazed you what effects he had on you, but right now there was no time for such thoughts right now, you had a mission to accomplish. At least that’s what you kept on telling yourself. 

“I just.. uhm… wanted to ask you if you wanted to come skating with me tomorrow?”

For a minute there you thought you’d just rambled on in front of a statue or something with how still he had become. He had clearly not expected that to be the ‘very important thing’ you wanted to ask him before. The clock ticked on and on and he didn’t move a muscle. Not. A. One. Maybe you broke him? He didn’t even blink for a solid three minutes before the silence finally got to you and you, once again, started to ramble in a futile attempt to save the situation.

“This isn’t working, is it? I tried to ask nicely, maybe I shouldn't have said anything, I will just go by myself tomorrow, really, there’s no problem at all I’ll eve-”

“Will you stop talking for a second, pet? I may have been surprised by your proposition at first, but seeing as it means so much to you I’ll gladly accompany you to this ‘ice skating’ thing you talk so fondly about.”

Now that was a welcomed surprise, not like last year when you got stuck up a turkey’s ass, but that’s a story for another time. Tomorrow you would get to show loki the real reason why you adored ice as much s you did, and who knows, maybe he will come to share this love with time. You just couldn’t wait for him to realize he was a king already. He was the king of your heart.

Permanent Tag list:

@theincaprincess​ @deepestfirefun​ @indelwen-of-mirkwood​ @gaia-writes-stuff​ @sdavid09​  @peter-pan-on-neverland​ @ek823​ @naomiiiiiiiiiii04​ @soradragon​ @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy​

[luckyspike]

Of Love and Loss - a Good Omens Fanfic

co-author credit to Griffin McElroy

--

The cottage has a den and it is agreed, fairly early on, that while it is technically shared space, it falls slightly more under Crowley’s purview than Aziraphale’s. Oh, certainly, there are a few bookshelves* and a display of antique snuffboxes, and the furniture is comfortable and homey, more suited to the angel’s aesthetic than the demon’s, but aside from those touches it is all Crowley’s: dark paint on the walls, houseplants scattered over every free inch of floor, and sleek technology conspicuously placed. There is a TV on the wall, huge and slim and used for very little aside from streaming. In the corner, there is a desk, with the fastest, most powerful computer money could buy.

For the first six months they live in the cottage, it is mostly untouched.

[* Which hold only modern paperbacks, not first editions, because Aziraphale just can’t trust the good books out in a room he doesn’t supervise as closely.]

For the first six months they live in the cottage, Crowley is busy elsewhere: there are gardens to tame, and a greenhouse to stock, and a widow’s walk with a telescope to be enjoyed. Crowley rarely goes into the den at all, other than to water and menace the plants, for those first six months.

But gradually, winter comes, and he and Aziraphale settle into a routine, and Crowley starts to gravitate toward the den. It’s in spurts at first, just when Aziraphale is at the shop and it’s too cold to do anything else, but it gets more frequent. Longer periods of time.

By nine months, Aziraphale is worried. Crowley is still Crowley, still stalks around his plants and shouts at them, but other than that, he is in the den. He lays on the couch, and sleeps, and watches TV, and sleeps some more.

Aziraphale asks if he’s tired, one day. “You’re sleeping a lot,” he observes. “A lot more than ... than I remember you doing, in London. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” And then, because Aziraphale has this look he does that renders Crowley unable to lie, he admits, “I’m bored.”

Aziraphale’s face falls. “Oh. Oh. I see. Yes, not the ... there isn’t the same bustle here as there is in London, is there?”

“No, no, nonono.” Crowley holds up his hands, worried and insistent. “Not what I meant, angel. No, I still get in to London when I drop you off at your shop, that’s plenty. But ...” He shrugs. “I used to have a job. Wiling and tempting and that. But I ... don’t anymore. I used to plan stuff, and spend too much time scheming, and now I don’t ... have a job?” He shifts. “It’s not here. Not living here. I just feel a bit ... useless?” He frowns. “Not the right word. Can’t come up with a word. Do you follow me?”

“You’re missing having a task?” Aziraphale guesses. “A goal or some such, whether you like it or not?” He sets his book aside and sits back in his chair, the better to watch Crowley over steepled fingers. “Yes, I think I understand.”

“Like, you have your shop, same as always. But I only had being a demon. That was my job and it’s what I am. But now I’m ... still a demon, obviously, but an unemployed demon, so ...” He throws up his hands. “Bored.”

Aziraphale nods sympathetically. “Yes. I see. Well ... you could try some different things? Volunteering at the animal shelter -”

“Really? Animals hate me, angel.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. Volunteering at the school?”

Crowley makes a show of looking at himself. “Not sure that’s really my scene.”

“Volunteering at the -”

Crowley sighs, and sits back, the tip of his considerable nose propped on his knuckles. “I’ll think about it. Find something, I’m sure. Maybe try beachcombing.”

“Maybe,” says Aziraphale, without much confidence. He wonders how he’s going to break to Crowley that most of what you find beachcombing is not, in fact, treasure, but junk. “You could give it a shot.”

“Bah.” Crowley sits back further, slouching deep into the chair, and sprawls his limbs all akimbo. “I’ll sleep on it. Wake me up for dinner?”

“You’re eating tonight?”

“No, but you are.” He tugs the tartan throw off the back of the chair, and wraps it around himself. “I’ll join if you’ll have me.”

“Of course.”

--

Crowley talks to his technology a lot. He doesn’t see well, Aziraphale knows, and these days the technology talks back, makes it easier for the demon to navigate. So when he hears Crowley chatting to something - someone? - in the den one cool night in late spring, he doesn’t pay much mind.

When it happens a second time that week, he wonders, but he doesn’t investigate. Probably just talking to Anathema. He pulls the doors to the library closed, and reads for the rest of the night.

When it continues the next week, curiosity gets the better of him. It’s around nine, and Crowley is talking in the den again, and Aziraphale sighs and sets his book down and goes to investigate.

The demon is sitting at the computer. The screen is massive, and Crowley is looking at it through his dark glasses. He has a controller in his hands, and a set of headphones on, and he is talking into, of all things, a microphone.

Aziraphale blinks. “What’s this, then?”

Crowley jumps, and then says into the microphone, “Ah, yeah, one second, got an old friend here,” before he hits a button and pulls the headphones off. He jumps up out of the chair and moves to the right. Aziraphale notices then, that there is a camera, fixed on where Crowley was sitting. He frowns.

“What are you doing?”

“Working.” Crowley sticks his hands into his pockets and for the first time in nearly a year since they moved, looks inordinately pleased with himself. “Found a thing to do.”

“This isn’t a sex thing, is it?” Aziraphale asks warily. 

“Nah.” He jerks a thumb toward the computer. “Nah it’s ... uh.” He thinks it over. “I have no idea how to explain this to you.” He frowns. “You know video games?”

Aziraphale nods. “... Broadly, yes.”

“Okay. Right. So there’s this website called Twitch. An’ what you do, is you play video games, but while you do that you broadcast your game to other people who want to watch you play. Adam showed it to me.” He waves his hands around, toward the computer. “S’kinda like a reality show? But video games.”

“And other people watch this?”

“Yeah. Got 100 viewers right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m hilarious.” He rocks back and forth on his heels and smirks. “Also, they give me money sometimes.”

“Willingly?”

“Yes, of course. I’m retired, remember? Well, from being a demon.” He looks pleased. “Now I’m a Twitch streamer. Part-time.”

The only reason that Aziraphale does not remark that this is a natural progression, as smooth a transition as from shore to sea, is that he does not really understand Twitch. Instead, he nods. “Good. And you’re ... having fun?”

“Oh yeah. Loads.” He glances over his shoulder. “Wanna watch for a bit? You can sit in the background. Really gets the chat going, when stuff happens in the background.”

“It’s not one of those violence games, is it?” But the angel is pulling over a wicker chair and sitting down even as he asks. “With all the killing?”

“Nah. S’pokemon. Like Joshua talks about.” He sits back down, and slides the headphones back on. “Right, what’d you want me to call you? Gotta introduce you.”

“Mr. Fell.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a long-suffering look. “That’s not what ... never mind. Right, anything you say’ll probably get picked up on the mic, so just watch it, yeah? I’m gonna un-mute it.” He taps a button, and says, “Right, everyone, this is Az Fell. He’s ah, my favorite librarian, my best friend and uh ... my roommate.” Aziraphale blinks. Oh, so that’s what he’d meant. Well ... he wasn’t wrong.

Roommate feels a bit impersonal though. They will discuss it later.

“Right, so anyway, back to the run. Fell, this is ah, s’called a Nuzlocke run, where if your pokemon faints you have to let it go because it’s dead.”

“Oh,” says Aziraphale, who understood exactly none of that sentence.

“I just started. You’ll pick it up as we go.”

To Aziraphale’s surprise, he does. He picks up on the pokemon types, the point of the game, the exploration, and the apparently-bizarre rules Crowley has decided to play to game under. He comes to like the names, and the pokemon, and despite the fact that they are not real, he finds himself getting attached to them.

The first faint, an hour into the game, takes them both by surprise. 

“Fuck!” Crowley glares at the screen. “Fuck! That’s not even a bug-type move!”

Aziraphale raises his hands to his mouth. “So Betty is dead?”

“Betty is dead,” Crowley confirms, morosely. “R I P Betty.”

“Look at all the little tombstones in the chat.” Aziraphale sighs, and wrings his hands. “Oh, dear. We should send her off.”

They do, when the battle ends. Solemnly, Crowley releases Betty the Rattata to the wild, and he and Aziraphale bow their heads while a bagpipe rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’ plays. Aziraphale wipes away a single tear. The chat goes wild.

xxGonnaMunch69xx: omg AJ your boyfriend is crying JamesBuffetsDick: RIP Betty and my feelings KnopeForPresident: omgggg im dead RIP Betty JisforJerg: fuckkkkkkkkkkk i had money on Betty living to the end GisforGreg: omg kiss your boyfriend so he feels better

Crowley sits up straighter as the music fades away. Aziraphale sniffles, blinks a few times and tries to subtly dab his eyes, and nods to Crowley, who returns the gesture before turning back to the screen and fiddling with the controls a little.

“We will fight on in her memory,” he intones, as his avatar on the screen runs in a circle in a patch of tall grass. “We will fight on for Betty. We’re gonna kill the Elite Four, and Betty’s name will be our war cry. For Betty!” 

“For Betty!” Aziraphale nods firmly, and watches the screen intently. Crowley soldiers on, navigating around Kalos, and Aziraphale watches, although his thoughts are with Betty. He wonders what pokemon do after you release them to the wild. Maybe he will ask Joshua next time they see him.

Crowley, recovering from his grief more rapidly, is on one of his monologues, waxing philosophical on the nature of pokemon match-ups, as his character runs around on-screen. “They’re just playing Calvinball with the dragon and fairy types too, since they’re not even real, and who decided that dragons would be weak to fairies? Should be the other way around, if you ask me - oh, shit, I didn’t want to jump off that ledge, fuck.” He grumbles. “We’re gonna have to walk all the way back to town.”

“You’ll run into some wild pokemon on the way though, won’t you?”

“Can’t catch ‘em.” Crowley sighs, as the screen flashes and a Psyduck assails the character. “Already got one off this route.”

“But you can smite them? For experience?”

Crowley laughs. “Yeah, yeah, angel, I can smite them for experience.” He taps a few buttons. “Get ‘em, Blanche.”

“For Betty!” Aziraphale declares, seizing his mug of tea with probably more enthusiasm than necessary.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees, still laughing. “Yeah! Fuck you, this one’s for Betty!” 

In his chair, Crowley shifts around, spreading his knees and stretching his legs a little. Next to him, and out of view of the camera, Aziraphale’s hand comes to rest on his knee. 

Crowley doesn’t blush; they have been doing this ... whatever it is they’re doing ... publicly long enough that he doesn’t react quite that violently now. But the next few sibilants are a little more hissed than usual, and Crowley shifts in the chair again under the pretense of getting more comfortable, yet somehow ending up a few inches closer to Aziraphale.

k2p2ribbingforherpleasure: fuck yea blanche kill that duck for betty bubbletii: cant wait for them to get to the ocean and catch a magikarp GisforGreg: am i the only one who noticed AJ moved closer to Fell or ... ROOMMATES HUH LIAR JisforJerg: jfc greg shut up and watch the game

[hoodie-lover]

A Friend Like Me Ink Edition

“Looks like such a beat-up worthless piece of junk.” Maxie said as she inspected the old wooden paint brush.

“Hey, I think there’s still some use out of it, but it’s hard to paint with.” Beatrice said as she dipped it in dark paint and put it on a canvas. But it glowed a bright light, and burned her hand. 

It shot sparks of all colors, exploding into fireworks. 

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Zack screamed as he ducked under a table in their small art studio. 

It spun as a dark smoke emerged from the brush, revealing a brown clothed skeleton floating in mid air. He wore a shirt shirt with a yellow stripe and brown top. He also had a brown artist's glove with mint-green fingers. Though he did have brown overalls, the top part fell over him and wasn’t secured. Rainbow paint vials with heart-shaped tops were secured to a black sash. 

“Aaaaahhhhh!” He screamed, his eyes glowing and a sinister grin on his face. 

“Oy! 10,000 years will give you such a crick in the neck.” He said, cracking his neck, however that worked and his mouth didn’t move as he spoke. He got up close to the trio, giving them a quick look over as he got excited. 

“Hang on a second.” He said as the three friends were placed onto invisible wall hooks.

“Whoa! Whoa! Does it feel good to be outta there!” He said spinning his head and stretching.

He had a long scarf that trailed into a puff of smoke, it also was a dark brown and transitioned into a pale brown. He then turned the end of the smoke trail into a microphone and held it to his mouth. 

“I’m telling you, nice to be back, ladies and gentlemen.” He said, waving to a crowd that wasn’t there. 

“Hi. Where y’all from? What’re your names?” He said, bringing the mic to them and waiting for the stunned trio to speak. 

“Uh… Uh, Maxie.”

“Zack.”

“Beatrice.”

They were all hopelessly confused at this stranger. 

“Maxie, Zack, and Beatrice. Hello Maxie, Zack and Beatrice. Nice to have you on the show.” He said, making a billboard with their names and glowing in rainbow colors. 

“Can we call you Max? Or maybe just Xie?” He said, fiddling with his scarf as he spelled the nicknames in the air with sparkles. 

“How about Trixie?” Sounds like ‘Heya Trixie!’” He said, making himself look like a traditional high school prep girl as he laughed. 

“We must have hit our heads harder than we thought.” Zack said, he was rubbing his head as he looked at the girls, they nodded as well. 

“Do any of you smoke? Mind if I do?” The skeleton said as he poofed and returned to his normal self. 

“Oh sorry guys. Hope I didn’t singe the canvases.” He said, looking at the run down shed he was in as he surveyed the sketches. 

“Yo, Broomy. Haven’t seen you in a few millennia.” Ink said as he waved to the brush which came to life and grew to his height, which was four feet. 

“Give me some bristles. Yeah. Yo, yo.” Ink bumped hips with the brush and high-fived the brush.

“Say, I’ve never had more than one master.” He said, counting them off.

“Either that or I’m seeing triple.” He said, sprouting two more heads before quickly dissipating them. 

“Hold on one moment, how many rocks do you see?” he said, pointing to the three rocks Maxie brought in for a diorama she needed to make for a school project. 

“Wait a minute. We’re your masters?” Zack said, even more confused. 

“That’s right. They can be taught.” Ink said, snapping his fingers as graduation caps and diplomas appeared in their hands before disappearing in a puff of smoke. 

“What would you wish of me?” Ink asked, gearing up for a few tricks.

“The ever impressive,” He made large muscles for himself as he flexed. 

“the long contained,” Getting smaller as he was in a glass box.

“the often imitated,” He ventriloquist doll was in his lap as it said the words in a high pitched voice. 

“but never duplicated...” Duplicates of Ink said the word duplicated in a weird echo effect. 

“Guardian of the Brush! Name’s Ink.” He said, summoning sunglasses that he slid down as he winked. 

“Right here direct from the brush, right here for your very much needed artistic assistance.” He said, bowing. 

“Thank you.” Ink waved at an imaginary crowd. 

“Wait. Artistic assistance?” Maxie said, and Ink nodded. 

“As much as you need, to be exact. Per master so that’s infinity times three.” Ink said, question marks in his eyes as he contemplated what he had just said. 

“No substitutions, exchanges, or refunds.” He said as he had three beaten wooden signs appear in front of the three. 

“Now we know we’re dreaming.” Zack said, and everyone nodded. 

“Masters, I don’t think you quite realize what you’ve got here.” He said, gasping as he held his hands to his face.

“So why don’t you ruminate whilst I illuminate the possibilities.” He sat them down on the floor and began to glow. 

“Well Avatar had them three seasons. Gravity Falls had a thousand mysteries.” Ink said, duplicating himself three times before they surrounded the tiro, holding brushes dripping with paint and pointing at them. 

“But masters you’re in luck 'cause up your sleeves, you got a brand of magic that never fails!” Ink said as he snapped his fingers and the duplicates vanished. 

“You got some power in your corner now. Some heavy ammunition in your camp. You got some punch, pizzazz, yahoo and how.” Fireworks and rockets went off inside the shack as it seemed to get bigger, the things in it fading to black. Ink himself was a firework as he exploded and pulled up his living brush. 

“See all you gotta do is use that brush!” Ink cried out making the three shake hands with Broomy. 

“And I'll say ‘Mister Creators, sirs, what will your pleasures be?” Ink said, appearing in a puff of smoke as his voice boomed. 

“Let me take your orders. Jot it down,” Ink was now a french waiter who had them sat down at a table. 

“You ain't never had a friend like me!!” Ink cried out, winking at nobody.

“Life is your restaurant. And I'm your maitre d'!” Ink cried out, placing a turkey on the table, but his head became the main part of the chicken before they could eat it. 

“C'mon whisper what it is you want.” Ink grew an ear that grew bigger.

“You ain't never had a friend like me!” Ink said, once again making more duplicates as they surrounded the trio. 

“Yes sirs, we pride ourselves on service.” Now the three friends were in a spa and being cared for by the Ink clones. 

“What the hell is going on?!” Zack cried out as he tried to kick one. 

“You're the bosses!” Ink said, propping them on large fancy chairs made of gold and velvet.

“The kings, the gods!” Ink once again said, duplicates fanning them with large palm leaves. 

“Say what you wish, it's yours, true dish.” Ink said, making more food appear before them. 

 “How about a little more buttsctoth pie?” And the dish in question flooded the room. 

“Have some of column A,” They found themselves on top of a large pillar, about to fall off any second. 

“Try all of column B!” Which they did into a pile of art supplies as they continued to fall. 

“You bastard!” Maxie cried out, she hated heights. 

“I'm in the mood to help you dudes.” Ink said, catching them on a pillow as he opened his mouth. 

“You ain't never had a friend like me!” A smaller but more dapper version of himself came out and began to dance. 

“Can your friends do this?” Ink took off his head and began to juggle it along with more copies of it.

“Do your friends do that?” He threw the heads at them, and miraculously they could also juggle them, before Beatrice screamed and threw them at the headless body. And Ink’d was right where it was supposed to be. 

“Do your friends pull this out their little hat?” He turned into a hat and popped out as a big pink rabbit. 

“Can your friends go poof?” The pink rabbit became a dragon which spewed a large stream of flames. 

“Well, looky here~!” Ink said as the flames took vaguely humanoid shapes and began to dance very suggestively. 

“Can your friends go, Abracadabra, let 'er rip!” Ink ripped himself in half.

“And then make the sucker disappear?” Right after he literally split the flames poofed out. 

“So don't cha sit there slack-jawed, buggy-eyed.” Ink’s jaw fell off and he grew organic looking eyes when he said the corresponding phrase. 

“I'm here to answer your all nighter prayers.” Ink said as he summoned a desk with a drawing tablet and gave himself disheveled clothes and large bags under his eyes. 

“You got me bona fide, certified.” Ink was now a certification sheet and wrapped them up in the paper. 

“You got a helper for your struggling affairs.” Ink unrolled and the three were released as they tried to get their footing. 

“I got a powerful urge to help you out.” Ink was still large and used a finger to steady them. 

“So what-cha want?” Ink leaned in as if he were trying to hear better. 

“I really want to know!” He leaned in closer. 

“You got a list that's three miles long, no doubt.” Ink pulled a piece of paper from Zack’s ear and used it as a jump rope before he popped it on the ground. 

“Well, all you gotta do is use like so - and oh!” Sparks flew from the ground and the trio were transported to a new place. 

“Mister Creators, sirs, I have a master, two and three.” Ink counted them off, each turning a different color as he did so. Maxie was blue, Beatrice was yellow, and Zack was red. 

“I'm on the job, you big heartthrob.” Ink said as he did the equivalent of a kiss on Zack’s cheek, causing Zack to slap Ink. 

“You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend. You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend.” Ink said as he summoned a circus and had dancers and dancing animals. 

“You ain't never had a friend like me!” Golden buildings and music filled the area as more and more dancers came up and fireworks went off.

“You ain't never had a friend like me! Hah!” All of it vanished in a flash and Ink was floating on air, with an applause sign above him as he grinned smugly. 

Broomy clapped enthusiastically, which earned him a slap from Zack.

[doctorocsid]

THE MAKING OF PHOENIX WRIGHT’S SECOND DAY OFF

Or: The Immense Struggle of Trying to Make Decent Content

A good year and a half. That’s how much time passed between me starting Phoenix Wright’s Second Day Off and me uploading it to YouTube. What a hell of a load off my back that was. If you couldn’t tell, making this video was a bit of an undertaking, to say the least. And by “undertaking” I mean “an exercise in pure agony”. So, I figured I’d do a bit of a writeup here so I can get across to you the absolute hell of an experience making this video was.

PART 1: THE INITIAL PLANNING STAGES

The original “Phoenix Wright’s Day Off” was released in February 2018 to, though not a lot of views, a generally very positive response. Despite its janky animation, people seemed to enjoy it for its complete ridiculousness, comedic timing, and overly-choreographed fighting. Not to mention literally being the only Ace Attorney-themed Garry’s Mod video ever made that actually uses the Ace Attorney characters. (I’m still the only person to ever do that as of the time of writing. Woohoo.)

Given the positive reception and the fact that I literally ended the video with a “To Be Continued”, I was ready as I could ever be to start work on a sequel. The first one only took me a couple weeks to make, so surely a sequel wouldn’t take much longer, right?

Oh, how wrong I was. Still, I started planning out exactly how things would go. Throwing around ideas in my head. I needed it to be bigger and better than the original, of course. How was I gonna do that? Well, my initial plan was, uh, misguided, to say the least. What I wanted to do at first was create the sequel entirely in Source Filmmaker, along with giving it a darker, more serious tone to contrast the ridiculous slapstick of the first. Not a great idea for a sequel to a video that mainly relied on throwing ragdolls around for comedy.

https://streamable.com/taxrn

The original intro for PW2DO, based off the intro for “Fargo”. A lot less cool-looking than the final intro I made. (Even though I intended the video to be made in SFM, I made the intro in Gmod solely because I could just film myself driving the car instead of having to animate it manually.)

The final intro was done in a not too difficult fashion - the characters were animated in Garry’s Mod on top of greenscreens, which I then imported into Premiere and changed to solid colors. Added some extra video effects I found in places. Set it to an instrumental of Propane Nightmares. I’m proud of how it turned out, mostly. I won’t deny after I introduced the characters I didn’t exactly know what else to do with it, so I just filled it with some random actiony shots I thought might look cool. Incidentally, this was the only part of the final video that was made in Premiere - the rest of it was just edited together in Vegas Pro. Which crashed many times during editing. Fun.

PART 2: THE PAINS OF INDECISION (AND ALSO SOURCE FILMMAKER)

Nonetheless, I got to work, despite not actually knowing how to use Source Filmmaker. “I’ll figure it out as I go along,” I figured. And over time, more or less, I managed to figure it out. Sort of. And by “figure it out” I mean “become subject to the true hell that is SFM”.

Let me give you some quick background here. SFM has two main editors for animation: The “motion editor”, and the “graph editor”. The motion editor uses a relatively easy-to-understand method of animating: you select an object you want to animate (a prop, weapon, ragdoll, etc), select the span of time in which you want the thing to move to its new destination, and then you move it to the new destination. Sounds simplistic, but can be used extensively to create good-looking animation. (I myself used this method for the bar fight in PW2DO.) The graph editor on the other hand, is much more involved, depending on the tried-and-true method of using keyframes for animation. Some people prefer this one because it allows you to directly edit and fine-tune each little animation curve to your liking. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUXnpk8xDLg

This unfinished PW2DO prototype was animated entirely with the graph editor in SFM.

Really, you can use either one for animating, whichever suits you best. For me, personally, the graph editor feels like something designed in the seventh circle of hell specifically to torture me. Why does adding a new keyframe screw up all my preexisting animation? Why does adding a new keyframe make the ragdoll’s bones stretch out to infinity? Those are just a couple questions I shouted at my computer screen while trying to figure it out.

Eventually, I just gave up. I came to terms both with the fact that I wasn’t satisfied with what I was making, and with the fact that trying to use SFM’s graph editor to animate was making me want to julienne my keyboard. (I hadn’t figured out, or really even considered the motion editor at the time.) “Screw it,” I said to myself. “I’ll do in Gmod, like the last one.”

PART 3: OH RIGHT, GMOD SUCKS TOO

The first PWDO was relatively simple to make, at least compared to the second one. There were two main tools I used: Stop Motion Helper (a tool for animating stuff within Gmod itself without the need for actual stop motion or whatnot), and the classic technique of “throw stuff around in front of the camera”. I had little to no experience doing 3D animation when making it, but it worked out anyway. It let me practice some camera framing stuff, too. All I was really doing for most of it was animating the characters moving along with the camera. But for the second video, I desperately wanted to up the ante. I wanted it to be cooler. More edgy. More cinematic. Turns out, there’s one main reason that proved difficult for me. And that’s that Garry’s Mod kinda sucks for long-term animation.

Here’s the difference between animating in SFM and animating in GMod. SFM is made for animation. GMod isn’t. So, if you want animating in GMod to be anything less than horrendously tedious, you need some addons to help you. Stop Motion Helper is a neat little addon that lets you animate stuff in Garry’s Mod with the “tweening” type of animation. Simply put, you pose something in point A, make a keyframe, move it to point B, and then make another keyframe. Stop Motion Helper will then automatically animate it moving between the two points. Thus, instead of the stop motion method where you have to pose every individual frame, you technically only have to pose the beginning and end. Not that it looks very good if you only do that. Of course, like any kind of animation, it’s still something that requires a lot of effort if you don’t want it to look cheap and robotic. But it works. Sort of.

Doesn’t work too well with vehicles, though.

There were a multitude of small limitations and annoyances, however, that proved to be annoying to deal with in GMod nonetheless.

FIRST PROBLEM: Because GMod isn’t made specifically for animation, resuming a project within it is kind of a hellish endeavor at times. Unlike Source Filmmaker where you can just open a project file and everything remains the same, Garry’s Mod’s saving tool doesn’t save a lot of the addon-related data when you create a save file of whatever scenario you’ve made. That includes stop motion helper animation. While SMH does have its own support for saving animations, you have to save every single animation as its own separate file. Take the scene in PW2DO, for instance, where Phoenix shoots those cops to get the security footage.

https://streamable.com/2ikd1

There are seven moving parts in this scene - Phoenix, the picture frame, both cops, the gun, the shampoo bottle, and the camera. Note how many of these are moving in each camera shot along with how many shots there are (ignoring after the cop goes out the window, because that’s not done with SMH). That’s ten shots, if you didn’t want to count. If I wanted to save this whole scene for potential later tweaking, I’d have to make a save file for the session along with saving the animation data for all ten shots - that’s ten separate animation files for this one scene - and then I would have to manually reapply the animation to each individual moving element. 

On top of that, not everything can be saved at all just by sheer concept. The muzzle flash, for instance. While the flash graphic over the gun was added in post, the actual light emanating from it was something I had to do in-game, and it’s not something you can animate with SMH. Therefore, I had to play the animation in GMod, and then specifically time me hitting a button on my keyboard to make the flash happen at just the right point. That’s just one workaround in a program that, when animating in it, is like 80% workarounds.

But nothing about Garry’s Mod frustrated me quite as much as the final fight scene.

PART 4: THE BAR FIGHT

The final fight scene of PW2DO was the one thing that kept me from releasing the video sooner. Seriously, out of that year and a half or so, I’d say only a month or so was spent working on the GMod portions of the video. The rest was just that stupid, godforsaken fight scene. (And mostly procrastinating on making it.) Allow me to try and outline to you what I went through doing this.

Now, the fight scene went through three specific incarnations. They were all based around Maya and Athena tracking down Phoenix and beating the crap out of him, it just differed on two basic things: the location, and the fight music. The first idea I had was them fighting Phoenix in an alleyway while ABBA’s “Waterloo” played in the background. (i know that sounds silly but i swear i couldve made it work) That one didn’t get beyond planning stages - I’d kinda choreographed some of it in my head, I know Phoenix was supposed to get a crowbar at some point, but it didn’t get any farther than that.

The second incarnation was much more well-developed. The way I figured it was as such: Phoenix, after retrieving the security footage from his office, would go on the run and get on a bus. However, when he got on the bus, it’d be revealed that Athena was driving it, and Phoenix would fight Maya as they went down the road. (No comment on how Maya and Athena got a bus.) This was gonna be set to “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince, inspired by the opening car chase scene from Kingsman: The Golden Circle. (Meh movie, neat fight scenes.) Eventually they’d crash the bus, all go flying out the window, and then Phoenix would get arrested by the cops as he did in the final video. Sounds neat, right? So, what stopped me from doing this?

jesus christ so many things

Everything wrong with this concept centered around one particular problem. I absolutely could not, for the life of me, figure out how to animate a fight scene in a bus that was moving down the road. In SFM that might’ve been possible, but in Garry’s Mod? Good luck with that one. I practically tore my hair out trying to come up with a single working solution to this. Allow me to present to you the various ideas I had and why they all failed miserably.

IDEA 1: Animate the bus moving and the characters moving in it at the same time

This was the fastest-thrown-out idea because the complexity of something like this was just too much for Gmod and an animation addon. What’s that? You want to be able to stay with the scene as it animates? No, that’s basically impossible to do. It’s not like SFM where you could just attach yourself and a camera to the moving vehicle and animate from there. It just wasn’t feasible.

IDEA 2: Create moving textures and place them outside the windows to give the illusion of movement

This one went out the window too, unfortunately, as rotating the camera to any degree kinda just seriously killed the illusion. I could’ve done the scene without the cool cinematic fighting camera movements, but… is it really Phoenix Wright’s Day Off without those?

IDEA 3: Create a 3d video of going down the street in GMOD and paste it onto a greenscreen outside the bus, and animate it rotating properly in Premiere

I don’t blame you if you don’t understand what the hell I’m talking about. See, miraculously enough, there is actually an addon for GMod that allows you to record 360 degree videos within it - and after a decent amount of finicking around with it, I actually managed to make one that seemed to work fine. It was from this point I actually set out and started making the scene - I got about ten seconds in, mostly comprised of driving shots, a neat easter egg with Homestar Runner (not something i’d do nowadays tbh) and a single shot of Phoenix beating on Maya. I was all set to get going.

And then Premiere just refused to work with the 360 video. Don’t get me wrong, I was able to animate it rotating and stuff, but it wouldn’t let me do this at the same time as the normal 2D video that was meant to be pasted on top of it. It frankly just. Wouldn’t let me. And after a lot of struggling, I just. Gave up. That ten seconds of video, trashed.

https://streamable.com/4omnep

I did manage to re-piece it together from the old files on my drive, though. With mostly missing sound effects.

So, that was scrapped. I wasn’t doing the bus fight. What, then, would work out better than a fight scene based off the first fight scene of Golden Circle? Apparently, my mind decided that would be the last fight scene of Golden Circle. Cool.

Thankfully, things went a lot smoother there, but it wasn’t without hiccups. Now, if you’ve seen Phoenix Wright’s Second Day Off - I don’t know why you’re reading this if you haven’t - there’s a chance you might’ve found the music choice for the bar fight scene a bit odd. If you’re not aware, it’s a cover of the 1986 Cameo song “Word Up”, by a German country band called The Bosshoss. This is the song they used in the movie so you’re not allowed to question me on this.

Given how western-y the song sounds, though, I had to at least make the context fit. Despite that, I couldn’t really find any GMod maps that had a good enough bar interior for a while - and I really wanted it to be a bar fight. Bar fights are cool. Thankfully, I did eventually manage to find one. This one, in particular: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=806759276&searchtext=

Yes, that’s a My Little Pony based map. I worked with what I had, okay? That was the least of the issues, anyway. By this point I’d had enough of trying to animate with GMod, and as such I’d decided to move back to SFM, but that caused a whole new issue. This map wasn’t made for SFM. And opening it in SFM just. Crashed. I won’t go super into detail of how I fixed this, but essentially I had to download a program called BSPSource so I could decompile the map, re-open it in Hammer, and export it to properly work with SFM.

Still left me with some annoying issues though, as you can see. Not too difficult fixes, though - The first one I just covered up with another corkboard, and the second thing was fixed by typing mat_specular 0 in console. Was a bit annoying that I had to do that every time I reopened SFM, but whatever. It was working, at least. (that’s something you’ll think to yourself a lot if you ever get into using SFM.)

 Anyway, things went pretty okay from this point on. You know, aside from me proceeding to barely ever work on the thing for like a year and a half. I didn’t have many hardships during it other than my own procrastination, so instead take a look at some of the funny tricks I pulled to get this scene to go the way I wanted.

https://gfycat.com/OldfashionedForkedFlatcoatretriever

Engineer telekinetically swooces his shotgun back to himself.

https://gfycat.com/SleepyShadowyLadybird

I had to make Phoenix hover over Engie to let his arms reach him without his legs obscuring the camera.

https://gfycat.com/AptHomelyGoral

The rope was way too short to reach the soldier, so I had to have Phoenix basically throw the rope in order to reach his gun. I also forgot to detach the rope from his hand afterward, so it kinda gets flung around with it off-camera.

https://gfycat.com/AgonizingScrawnyAbalone

Phoenix apparently decided for himself he wanted to go out the window.

Aside from all that, though, things finally went okay. Eventually. I managed to finish up the animation, add some extra ending stuff in GMod, and do a neat credits sequence to David Bowie music. All in all, it went okay.

And that’s it. After all that waiting, I finally managed to put an 8 minute video out from one and a half years of it not being finished. It was quite a load off my mind, for sure, and to this day it stands as my proudest video. It’s silly, has its down moments, but I can at least confidently say it’s the best Ace Attorney gmod video. If only because there is basically no competition.

So, what’s in store next? Not much of anything as far as I feel right now. I could make a third one, one day - I did envision it as a trilogy - but although I do have some ideas for it, I still have zero motivation to actually make it. So who knows. We’ll see how it goes. Maybe Phoenix Wright will escape from prison one day.

So, this was the experience of making Phoenix Wright’s Second Day Off. I hope this gave you something of an idea on how agonizing this video was to make, and totally means you should go and share it everywhere to get me more views because I DESERVE it after the hell I went through.

Seriously, though, thanks for reading, and may this post serve as a warning if you ever decide to do Garry’s Mod or SFM videos. Not a warning against it, mind you, you can make some totally cool stuff. Just be prepared to suffer a bit in the process.

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Sex Contract - Chapter 10

Genre: friends to lovers au / friends with benefits / mature content / romance / angst

Characters: Shim Changmin x Kaia Ashton (OC)

A/N: Due to the overwhelming request I have followed your encouragement to bring back one of my older stories. This was back in a time where OCs were everything and writing one chapter in each main’s point of view was the trend. I hope that even though I have edited this drastically, that you can appreciate this story comes from my older style of writing. I definitely still read this often and find it enjoyable so I hope you will too.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 - FINAL

Chapter 10 – Kaia’s POV.

Kaia was officially sick. She missed work for the following two days, feeling as if she had been hit by a truck. After the third day however, Kaia had endured more than enough of being in bed and sleeping it off that she hauled herself off to the nearest pharmacy and bought more cold medicine before heading off to work. She was shivering in her warm clothing despite everyone else on the train being in their summer outfits and by the time she arrived at work, Kaia wondered if she had made such a wise decision.

“Woah, Kaia!” Keith stared at her wide-eyed as she walked into the office, and he rushed to my side. “Should you have come in today? Sungra said when she visited you that you were quite sick but I didn’t realise just how much.”

“I’m fine,” she assured, waving off his concern and heading to her desk. Her eyes had already locked on another person in the room, the girl smiling sympathetically. Kaia smiled back, flashes of the other day returning to her mind. Despite being ill, Abby’s behaviour had stuck out the entire time. Kaia knew she needed answers, and hoped she could get some alone time with the girl during the day.

She turned away from her thoughts as she heard her name and smiled at Sungra who now stood beside her. “I told you to stay at home until you were better!”

“I’m not contagious, so don’t worry. I have plenty of medicine too,” Kaia assured, reaching into her bag and pulling the medicine bag out. Shaking it a little, she smiled again. “Besides, Korean news never stops. I can only imagine the backload already.”

Kaia sat down and settled into her work, her mind now focused on the task at hand. She enjoyed her job so much that she almost forgot she was sick until a cough racked through her chest.

“Not that sick huh?”

“Sung, it’s just a cough, I’m not dying,” Kaia retorted and heard a chuckle come from one of the junior members.

“No, but after what I just found, I believe Changmin is,” Hyurin mentioned and Kaia snapped her focus to the girl. “He apparently is sick over in Japan.”

“Really? Oh no, the poor guy, how untimely!”

Sungra nodded at Minah’s exclamation. “I hope it doesn’t interfere with his promotional work. Where on earth would he get a cold from?”

Kaia could feel her cheeks burning and she swallowed roughly, which caused her to struggle with another loud cough. When she looked up again, Kaia noticed a set of eyes were focused on her.

Abby smirked. “Colds just must be making their way around, right Kai? You must sympathise with Changmin right now.”

“Uh sure,” she managed to squeak out, gulping down some of her water and then cringing at how hard it was to swallow it all. She cleared my throat. “Must be the upcoming season.”

Looking back at her computer screen, Kaia tried to settle herself down and then thought back to the statement Changmin had made regarding his health that night. Smiling, she made a mental note to contact the idol on her next break.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” a voice said after the toilet flushed behind her and a sense of déjà vu coursed through Kaia’s veins as Abby stepped towards the sink. She smiled brightly at her as Kaia placed her phone back into her pocket. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I am, thanks.”

“Good.” She started to wash her hands. “Funny how Changmin’s sick too right now. He must know your friend Max, right? Or perhaps he’s the same guy?”

“E-excuse me?!” Kaia spluttered out, watching as Abby’s face broke out into a grin.

“I KNEW IT! You know Changmin!” she exclaimed and Kaia placed her hand over Abby’s mouth, darting her eyes around the area. She struggled to remove Kaia’s hand. “Don’t worry; I checked the cubicles before when I followed you in. I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me!”

“Says the girl who is dating Kim Junsu.” It was Abby’s turn to let her features flood with colour, and Kaia smirked as she poked her playfully. “How could you keep that from me?!”

“It’s not like I wanted to, he told me if we wanted this I had to remain silent about it! We work in the business, you know as well as I do if anyone catches wind of this, we’re doomed.” Abby then poked her back. “But you have a lot to answer for, now I know where you disappear off to. Is it friendship or something more?”

Kaia blushed lightly. “I’m an English teacher at SME in my spare time.”

“You devil!” Abby exclaimed and Kaia giggled, the pair both smiling at one another. Kaia could tell Abby felt as relieved as she did now having someone who knew her secret.

They went to step out of the bathroom, still laughing together until they found someone standing in front of them with wide eyes. Keith pointed at them both and tilted his head, unable to bring himself to speak. Exchanging a look with Abby, Kaia lurched towards him, her hand going over his mouth.

“If you tell anyone what you just heard you’re in big trouble, got it?” Abby hissed and he nodded his head, and Kaia loosened her grip.

“Your secrets are safe with me, as long as you tell me everything.”

“Ah, I felt like I was dying to the point I wanted nothing more than to sleep forever! I couldn’t even eat, Kaia! Why did you have to get sick?!” Changmin complained as she came into his room with the bowl of popcorn she had just prepared. Rolling her eyes, Kaia placed it next to the Korean who immediately started shovelling the snack into his mouth.

“It appears your appetite is fine now,” she observed and he shot her a look as she sat down and picked up the controller. “And besides, what happened to you being in top form huh? I told you I’d go home so you didn’t get sick.”

“It was a very powerful strand of illness, clearly,” he stated strongly, and then motioned towards the screen. “Hurry up and choose a car to drive.”

“I just sat down,” Kaia spoke back in the same tone he’d just used, but did his biddings, hitting the x on the controller when she had decided. They started to race and became focused on that for a while before taking a break. Her fingers hurt from not playing videos games in a while, though it was tradition for Changmin and Kaia to have a games night whenever he returned to Seoul from his jet setting schedule. Although he had been back for two days from Japan, this was the first time either of them had enough time to dedicate to the ritual.

“So, did you miss me?” he asked with a smirk as they watched the animation front page to the gameplay across the large television. He shifted closer. “With Oppa gone, you must have been so lonely.”

“Oppa?!” Kaia screeched and grabbed his pillow to beat him with it. “You sickening bastard! I’m only two months younger than you and you use Oppa on me?! Ugh!”

“I thought you liked the whole Oppa talk since you are addicted to them dramas,” he teased and Kaia growled, beating him some more. He fell back on the bedding and she used it to her advantage, climbing over his waist and continuing to beat him with the pillow.

“I am not one of them whiny girls who cry out Oppa at men. Have I ever called either you or Yunho that? I’m not Korean for one!”

Changmin chuckled underneath her, finding the situation amusing. “Like I would ever want to you to call me that. This is me you’re talking to. I get enough Changmin-oppa from my fans, let alone needing it from you.”

“Oh really?” Kaia said and leaned down to his face. “Oppaaa.”

“Quit it. Ugh, why did I start this?”

“Oppaaaa,” she repeated with a giggle and Changmin groaned heavily. “Oppa, this is so much fun. I just love playing games with you.”

“Let’s play a different one then,” he urged, grabbing her wrists and yanking them so her body fell on top of his. Kaia’s eyes widened as his laugh vibrated against her body. “What? Aren’t I playing my role right? You say Oppa and I’m meant to fall for it.”

“Yunho’s home you fool, that’s why I reacted like that.”

“So? Yunho is a man, he understands the carnal desires very well,” he pointed out and Kaia closed her eyes as Changmin’s mouth found the side of her neck. He kissed a trail down to where her shoulder curved into her neck and Kaia let out a deep breath before snapping her eyes open.

“No.”

“No?” he repeated against her skin, his lips spreading into a smile. “Your body is saying yes.”

“I can’t with Yunho in the house Min, it feels wrong!”

He let out an annoyed groan. “Come on Kai, I haven’t had any in well over a week now.”

“Maybe it’s good for you to learn how to pace yourself,” she told him and he thumped the bed in irritation. Propping herself up, Kaia climbed off his waist and picked up her controller. Changmin didn’t move. “Besides, I thought you had the company of a great female whilst gone, Minnie. Or is Kaori Kimura not to your tastes?”

“How did you know?!” He sat up at her piece of information and then shook his head. “That woman is a witch.”

“How so?”

“She might be one of Japan’s leading models at the moment, but she’s very dominant. I tried to escape her attention four times, but she just wouldn’t relent. There’s only so much superficial bantering that I can muster and she wore me out.”

Kaia smirked. “Not what the pictures show.”

“In case you aren’t aware, I’ve been a professional for a very long time Kai, it’s my job to make things appear like magic.”

“Ah, is that what it’s meant to be? Well, couldn’t you magic me up a handsome man that makes me see stars when we kiss, oh great Wizard?” Kaia asked with a laugh and Changmin grabbed her and then leaned down to kiss her.

“I’ll make you see stars once I’m done with you,” he murmured and she knew her previous concern for Yunho was now out the window, though she pouted and hit his shoulder playfully all the same.

“I said someone handsome!”

_________________

Part 11

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

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[petuniatom]

Dangerous Animals || Chapter Two || Tom Holland/Reader AU

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: Two bodies were found at the local lake, and somehow you and your best friend have managed to find yourself in the middle of the investigation. Meanwhile, your boyfriend, Tom, has a few things he wants to talk to you about. 

Warnings: Death, murder

A/N: He looked so angsty in “Edge of Winter.” But sidebar, this chapter is still setting up some things. Can’t wait to dive in some more. (And this is all coming in a day early!)

Word count: 2.7K 

Want to join the tag list for this story?

Series masterlist | chapter one

The ride in the police cruiser wasn’t thrilling. You always thought that riding in a police cruiser in some way was different, but after actually riding in the backseat, you realized how bland it was.

Zendaya shot you a meaningful look next to you. It was silent in the car, except for the occasional chatter from the radio.

The female officer, whose name you learned was Detective Hazel Swain, had asserted the fact that you and Zendaya were both people of interest, but in no way suspects. More so, you were two people who could have potential information. You weren’t sure why the Leawood Police Department would think so, but Hazel stated they’d explain later at the police station.

The two detectives let you sit in a conference room in the back. You sat silently in the chair, your best friend next to you as you waited.

“I’m worried,” you confessed. “Why aren’t they telling us anything?” Zendaya bit her lip.

“I don’t know, but just keep it together. Let’s see how it goes, and we’ll make the lawyer call as soon as we notice something is off,” she stated. You nodded your head.

Within a few minutes, the door propped itself open. A woman, different from Hazel and the previous officer walked in. She looked at you both meaningfully, as she plopped in the chair across from you. You knew immediately who she was, you’d seen her plenty of times in local newspaper clippings. You glanced over at Zendaya, who also held the same look of recognition. 

The expression on the woman’s face was confident and determined. You knew she was the type of woman to get shit done. If you weren’t so nervous at the moment, you probably would have looked at her with more admiration.

“Hi ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Alina Delos.”

“Hey chief,” Zendaya greeted. Alina let a small smile perk up on her lips.

“So you two know of me,” she stated.

“We’ve paid attention to your work over the past year since you’ve taken over,” Zendaya explained. 

“You completely changed up everything in the department,” you added, and the bit of admiration snuck its way into your voice. Alina looked at you both with appreciation.

“Then, I’m sure you can understand why us meeting at this moment is so vital for a variety of different reasons,” Alina stated. “We’ve built a lot up this past year, and we can’t afford to be losing it now. I need you guys to work with me here and tell me everything you know.”

You and Zendaya both looked at each other and shrugged. “There’s not much we can say,” you admitted. “We barely know anything. We just saw the article from Lancaster and my boyfriend called me because he was worried when he got the news alert. Then Officer Swain showed up and now we’re both here.” Alina nodded her head.

“Have you gotten any weird messages lately?” she asked. “Anything strange in your inbox?”

“We get hundreds of emails per day,” Zendaya answered. “It’s not really easy for us to say also whether anything is weird. We get odd messages all the time. I haven’t checked for a while, and I don’t think Y/N has either. Usually Tom is the one to kind of look over that.”

“Sorry, but who is Tom?” Alina asked.

“My boyfriend,” you answered. “He’s also our producer. We all do our different things on the show, but Tom edits the show for us, helps with our microphones, and usually is the one to go through our tips.” Alina nodded her head and toyed with the manila folder in her hands.

“I suppose I should let you to know how you got roped into this. We got a 911 call at Kinakee Lake this morning from a mother who was going on a late night hike with her kids, and they’d found the two bodies on the outskirts of the lake.” You winced at the image. While death itself was gruesome, it was even worse when children found their way into the mix. 

“So they were officially murdered?” you asked.

Alina nodded her and responded, “Above their bodies, someone signed it, AOM, which is the initials to your show.” And while Zendaya was about to cut in, probably to say that was a bit of a reach, Alina held up her hands and continued, “And one of the victims was Samuel Hodges, who you two specifically mentioned in your episode on the Glendale ripper.” 

Zendaya’s face scrunched up, “Wait, hold up? When did we mention–” 

“He’s the one everyone thinks who did it,” you spoke quietly. “Who was the other victim?”

“A Jane Doe currently,” Alina answered. There was a brief pause in the room. Alina watched both your faces temporarily and then proceeded to ask, “Where were you early this evening? At around 5:00 p.m. or so?”

“Zendaya came over so we could record our show. Harrison Osterfield was there, too,” you replied. “We were together up at my house until the officers came.”

Alina jotted your response down on a notepad in front of her. She then lifted her head up and asked, “And what about your boyfriend, Tom?”

“At his place. He has a deadline tomorrow, so he’s been working all day.”

“And Tom was the one who called you worried right?” she asked. You nodded your head. “Do you know where he is now?” 

“He was on his way to my home right before your officers picked me up. I don’t know where he is now, maybe with Harrison?”

Zendaya gave you a warning look with her eyes. You bit your lip as you started to realize that Alina was taking more notes as you were speaking about Tom, then while the two of you were talking about your own alibis.

“So, if we gave you a ride home now, it’s possible we’d be able to get Tom in for a questioning easily as well?” You and Zendaya nodded your heads. 

“Tom wouldn’t do anything if that’s what you think,” you blurted. Zendaya shot you the warning look again, and you knew it was time to stop speaking. Alina gave you a knowing smile and shrugged. 

“It’s just procedure,” she stated nonchalantly. “I think we’re done. One of the officers will take you home. We’ll both be in touch.”

She moved over to the door, propping it open for you both. You practically scurried out, cursing at yourself for putting Tom in the position of being a possible suspect, but also acknowledging that you only said the truth. As you both moved into the hallway, you saw Harrison’s head peak up from the front of the police station. He nudged a body next to him and mumbled something, then stood up with a big smile.

But your eyes immediately moved over to the person standing next to him. The curly haired brunette, whose coffee eyes were wide with concern as they stayed steady on you. You practically leaped to the end of the hall, nearly jumping into Tom’s arms. You relaxed as you felt his firm grip come around your waist as he tugged you into his chest. His face buried itself in your neck.

“Fuck, I was so worried,” he mumbled. 

“Tom,” you spoke urgently, slightly pushing back to where you were still in his arms, but you could at least look him in the eye. “I think they’re going to question you.” Tom raised an eyebrow, glancing around.

“Who is?”

“Chief Delos. I told her about how you were gone and she got suspicious and—“

He cut you off, “Calm down, darling, it’s okay.” He started rubbing your arms. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Tom, I’m worried,” Zendaya added. You both turned over to your other two friends who were with you. In the midst of your reunion, you’d briefly forgotten they were also there. “These police departments, they’re good but sometimes just telling the truth doesn’t cut it. Sometimes, they’re just desperate to pin it on someone.”

Harrison nodded his head. Quietly, he suggested, “I might start lawyering up, mate.”

Tom didn’t know how to respond for a moment. He glanced over at you, as if seeking some reassurance that they were just exaggerating, but you bit your lip again, concerned.

“Lawyers don’t make you look guilty,” you tried to comfort, but there was no use. Tom moved away from you, plopping into the chair and burying his head in his hands. You looked at Harrison and Zendaya, feeling at a loss for what to do and Harrison nudged his head in Tom’s direction, almost as if silently saying go on over. You sat in the seat next to Tom and gently rubbed his back.

“There was an email,” he finally said. “I saw it right before I called you. It said that you and Z had a surprise at the lake. I thought that maybe for a second that you and Z may have gone and then the headlines came up and…” His voice drifts off as he looks up at you. You gulp, knowing what he was about to say, but thankful when he doesn’t finish the thought. 

“Why don’t you just go in and see how it starts out?” Harrison suggested. You all nodded your heads in agreement.

“You definitely should tell the police that they were trying to contact us,” Zendaya said. Tom lifted his face out of his palms.

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed. You pushed back his hair with your hand and gave him a small smile. 

At that point, Hazel Swain came back over to your group. She blinked as she saw the two additional members to your party.

“I’m assuming one of you is Tom?” Hazel asked, holding out her index finger to quickly gesture in between Tom and Harrison.

Tom raised his hand and quipped, “That would be me. Uh, you need me for questioning?” Hazel nodded her head.

“Follow me to the back please.” With that, Tom followed her to the conference room that you and Zendaya were previously in.

You were anxious as you waited for him. Zendaya and Harrison both plopped on the left side of you, and started making small talk about a lot of the events in the town. For the most part, you were tuned out of the conversation; your brain was only focusing on Tom. 

Finally, he sprung out of the room, a neutral look etched on his face. You gave a quick glance at Harrison and Zendaya then promptly stood up. 

“What did they say?” you asked in a rush as Tom approached you all.

He glanced back and whispered to the group, “Well, I forgot I had cameras in the house, so I was able to confirm my alibi that I was working when it all went down. But I brought forward the evidence I had, so they’re currently working with that.”

“That was it?” Zendaya asked. Tom nodded his head.

“She asked some other stuff about my relationship with the podcast, but it was short. I don’t think it’ll turn into anything more. Or at least, I hope not.” His voice, though quiet, remained energetic throughout the statement. You felt yourself inflate with pure relief, knowing he was off the hook. But then, Tom gave you a meaningful look — the look that he usually gave you when you had to talk about something, and you knew that there was a lot left to unpack this evening.

You all piled into Tom’s SUV on the way back. It was mainly silent in the car, though not uncomfortably so. Everyone in the car had different worries coursing through their heads. When you all stopped at your house, you all went your separate ways. Zendaya strode off to her car, with promises to call you when she got into her apartment. Harrison lingered for a minute, but then Tom seemed to have a silent conversation with him through eye contact. He quickly waved a quick goodbye to you and told Tom he’d meet him up at the house.

It was quiet as you approached your front porch, with Tom following shortly behind you. You both stepped into your home, but you were a bit surprised when he didn’t take off his shoes at the front door as he normally did. You glanced down at his feet briefly, frowning, and then asked, “What’s going on?” 

He let out a long sigh and then leaned against your wall. He fluttered his eyelashes, and his eyes looked at you almost solemnly. “I’m worried, Y/N. About all of this. You know that the last thing I ever want to do is lose you and tonight scared the shit out of me, because for a second, I honestly thought I did.” He stepped off from the wall and grabbed your hands. “Please promise me you’ll stay out of this. I know it’s interesting, but just please. I’m worried that if you do something it’ll provoke whoever killed that couple.”

You gulped and whispered, “Tom, I’m already in it.”

“I know that, but after this, if we can in any way, let’s please just avoid this situation.” You thought about it for a minute. Internally, there was that instinct to find the truth. Your whole podcast was all about ensuring victims of cold cases were never forgotten, so their families could find truth. Yet, Tom was also right. Doing so could come at the risk of your own personal safety. As much as you wanted to get involved, to out more of what was going on, anyone who tangled with someone bold enough to murder was probably going to end up dead themselves.

So finally, you nodded your head in agreement and stated, “Okay, I will.”  

He then cleared his throat. “Do you feel comfortable staying here, or would you like to come to mine tonight?” 

Without hesitation you said, “Yours. Without a doubt.” 

Tom let out a long sigh of relief. “I was hoping you would say that.” He pushed back your hair from your face, and your lips curled up at the edges for a small smile. “Do you want to maybe grab just your things for tonight? And then tomorrow, we bring over more, yeah?” 

You slowly nodded your head. “Yeah, I’ll get started.” So you moved to your room, and shoved some clothes and toiletries into a small gym bag. Before you left, you filled your water bottle and went with Tom out to his car.

He was more careful than usual throughout the drive. He was cautious and slow as he approached stop signs, and his eyes darted around a bit more than usual. Even stranger, the town was almost completely empty at this point. Usually, you would see a few people oddly walking around the streets this late, but tonight, there was no one. By this point, everyone had probably heard the news and quickly darted into their homes.

When you pulled into Tom’s garage, he stopped the car and looked at you for a minute. “Are you okay?” he questioned quietly. “I never asked earlier.” You shook your head. 

“I’m freaked out, Tom.”

He moved his hand to squeeze yours comfortingly. “We’ll found out who did this, okay? This will be over soon.”

And God, you hoped so. You really wanted Tom to be right, but something inside you knew that this whole incident was only the beginning. 

When Tom took a quick shower that night, you scrolled through Twitter, seeing a whole batch of tweets from Colton Lancaster. You cast a quick look at the the door, then opened his first tweet to start reading the full thread.

At that point, the shower stopped running. You quickly typed out a tweet from your podcast account. You’d already agreed with Zendaya to start recording the episode again tomorrow.

Within seconds of posting, Colton Lancaster retweeted, and you soon got the notification that he sent you a DM.

You bit your lip, reading the message over and over again. You glanced at your bathroom door, remembering your conversation with Tom earlier. And then you typed, “Yes.”

[wendynerdwrites]

@jonxsansaremix

Jon x Sansa Remix: Day Two - Comics/Graphic Novel Couples: Fables - Bigby Wolf x Snow White

(Reposting my fic from last year since I did this couple. But the photo edit is new and I’m actually pretty proud of it)

“Then she gets even more frustrated, meaning I turn back even further, and There’s too much to hide, so I can’t go to work, then she gets even more upset, and it’s just this whole cycle!”

Jon quietly swears under his breath as he enters the main office. Of course Beauty and Beast are the first visitors of the day. He and Sansa clearly don’t have enough headaches to deal with.

Rarely does the Deputy Mayor of Fabletown have an easy time receiving petitions— Ichabod Crane, her loathsome predecessor, left a mess with his departure. And even if he’d been a model civil servant, there is never enough money, time, or magic to solve all the problems the citizens of Fabletown have.

Sometimes, Jon wishes he hadn’t taken Sansa and King Cole up on their offer all those years ago and let them turn him back into a man. It’s true that as Sheriff, he has fewer bureaucratic nightmares to handle than Sansa, but she had so little support that Jon is compelled to assist her whenever possible.

Not that he is great at the whole diplomacy thing. Even without his past as The Big Bad Wolf and the whole “brought back from the dead” baggage, Jon isn’t much of a people person. Being stabbed by one’s brothers didn’t inspire much of an inclination towards trust, and though it’s been years since he was a full-time wolf, many of his more base, animalistic instincts remain.

Still… he couldn’t ignore Sansa’s problems even if he wanted to.

It’s been both better and worse since The Farm. Better for Arya’s sake. Most Fables, whether they were from Planetos or some other homeland, had trouble adjusting to life in the Mundy World. Planetos was one of the more brutal of the homelands even before the adversary came and ran them out. But Arya had a particularly hard time adjusting. Decades spent causing trouble, partying, messing around with that idiot, Jack. Sansa and Arya never got along well, but that didn’t stop the older sister from worrying about her constantly.

Arya found her element in the Farm, though. The sisters even found a way to communicate. And with that part of her life stable for the first time in centuries, Sansa is in a better place mentally.

But then there are the physical injuries. Sansa still needs her cane sometimes. Even now, it is propped up against the side of her desk, an oddly modern-looking thing amidst the scores of medieval-style magical artifacts the littered the cavernous main office.

The sounds of Beauty and Beast’s complaints echo off the enchanted, ever expanding walls. It is hard to believe that a woman as small as Beauty can make so much noise. But then, she always does.

Sansa sits as perfectly prim as she always does, but Jon can smell her the tension on her. He could smell it from his cigarette-filled apartment three floors up. She’d been in a decent mood this morning, too.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything other than what I always tell you when this matter arises,” the Deputy Mayor says in her most neutral tone. Jon can tell she’s longing to rest her head in her hands the way she always does when frustrated, but she stays firm and tall now. “Either you resolve your issues so that the curse no longer makes Beast change back, buy a glamour from the 13th floor, or go up to the Farm.”

This has happened a thousand times. The nature of Beast’s curse, contrary to the Mundy version of their story, mean that his appearance depended on the feelings of his wife. When Beauty was happy, Beast looked like the handsome prince of Happily Ever After. When Beauty wasn’t, he began to regain his more beastly features: eyes turning red, teeth becoming fangs, horns protruding out of his temple. At the moment he was still man-shaped, but fairly demonic in appearance nonetheless.

The couple are utterly devoted to one another. But they also had a bad habit of living outside their means. Their elegant Woodlands apartment does not reflect the piles of bills they hid within their 18th century french cabinets.

“You cannot possibly expect us to live amongst those…. Animals!” Beauty cries out, as she always does.

“It’s not so bad, Beauty,” Jon says, walking towards the desk. They all turn to see him. He gives a sardonic smile. “Most of them up there are a fair sight tamer than I am.”

Sansa’s lip twitches for half a second. Beauty scoffs at Jon and turns back to the Deputy Mayor.

“The cost of glamours these days is absurd, and it is only climbing. We couldn’t possibly afford one. And I’m a lady! I can’t just sleep amongst the the pigs and toads and badgers! That might be well enough for that vulgar sister of yours, but—”

Sansa gets to her feet at once, eyes flashing. Even Jon steps back a couple of feet. He hasn’t seen her this furious since Beauty mentioned the dwarves.

“My sister is leading the Farm and contributing to this community. Which is more than I can say for you. I’ve given you your options. Now get out.”

The couple get to their feet. Beast keeps his red eyes fixed firmly on the ground as Beauty drags him out. Once they’re gone, Jon pulls out a cigarette and lights up. Sansa’s emotions are overpowering his senses. There are a few moments of silence before he gingerly approaches her desk.

Sansa’s face is in her hands. “How many are in line outside?”

“Only a half dozen,” Jon says, as gently as he can, “Boy Blue said you wanted to see me?”

Sansa glances up at him. “I just wanted to know if you have any news on Goldilocks.”

Jon cringes. Their favorite terrorist. It was thanks to Goldilocks that Sansa had that cane. “Nothing new, I’m afraid. I just… I don’t get it. You’d think I’d be able to sniff her out. But she’s just… Disappeared.”

“Do you think she may have gotten her hands on any magical artifacts?”

Jon groans. “I didn’t want to admit it, but it seems more and more likely each day. What I don’t understand is—”

“—How she got it. But we have to find out. If there’s some unauthorized enchantments out there again…”

Jon nods. “I’m making Goldi my first priority, before anything else.”

“—I may just have a lead for you on that!”

Jon groans. Wonderful. He turns and Sansa rises to greet the Fabletown government’s primary financial benefactor, Bluebeard.

Of all the Fables that had fortunes in the homelands, Bluebeard somehow managed to be one of the few that retained his. He supposedly had endless treasure rooms in his Woodlands penthouse, and as such, he was the source for much of the government’s funding. Meaning they had to keep him happy. As with most Fables, that was easier said than done.

The former pirate strides in, as he always does, as if he owned the place. His head shines so brightly that it makes Jon wonder, not for the first time, if he shined it with the same polish that went on his italian loafers. The pirate’s hand is planted firmly atop the pocket of his brocade vest. Jon tensed up. He could smell the magic.

“I think you may want to look into that criminal, Greenleaf,” Bluebeard says smugly, coming close to the desk.

Jon rolls his eyes. “We’ve told you before, Bluebeard, Greenleaf is now a legitimate enchanter and part of the 13th Floor, under the employ of Fabletown. She is not—”

“—Once a criminal, always a criminal!” Bluebeard insists, reaching into his pocket.

“Is that so?” Sansa says, brushing a lock of her red hair back and giving Bluebeard a pointed look. The pirate has the decency to blush.

“That was before the amnesty! But she… She’s been dealing black market enchantments for years, and I don’t believe she’s stopped!” Bluebeard pulls something from his pocket— a carved wooden trinket, like a wine cork, but with a stopper— and plants it on Sansa’s desk.

Sansa and Jon both lean over to look at it.

“It certainly looks like one of Greenleaf’s…” Sansa glances at Bluebeard. “Any idea what it is?”

“A glamour, of course. Just like last time.”

That would make sense. Glamours could mask scent. Jon tentatively reaches for it and opens it.

Blackness.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Jon feels amazing, in his element. He isn’t in his wolf form, but he is definitely closer to nature.

Swimming, in fact. In a proper river rather than one of those chlorinated monstrosities the humanoids prefer. Languidly, Jon reaches out and grabs one of the salmon swimming by him. It’s only when he feels the satisfaction of the fish squirming in his hands that he realizes something is amiss.

He’s not supposed to be here. Wherever this is. He guesses the wilderness of Washington State or Oregon, judging by the smell of the trees. It’s evening, just the beginning of sundown. And for a lost wolf, he feels amazing. More amazing than he’s felt in… He’s not sure how long.

And he can smell her. Sansa. Gods can he smell her. He can smell more of her than ever. Jon braces himself and bursts towards the surface. Her scent— lemons, roses, sunlight, vanilla, oak, ink, alcohol and amber gris from that perfume she always wears— almost knocks him out. There’s something else there, too. And Jon immediately knows why he feels so good.

Uh-oh.

Jon calms himself and processes the situation. Sansa will probably be waking as well, or soon. He’s not sure if whatever enchantment that brought them here affects full humans differently than wolves.

Whatever reason they’re here, it can’t be good. He curses. Finally, after years and years of waiting and hoping and dreaming… And he can’t even remember the act!

Then there’s Sansa herself. Gods, this isn’t good. She’ll be horrified. After everything she’s been through, mating under magical influence… She can’t know. Not yet. Not until Jon knows they’re safe.

He bursts out of the water and follows her scent back to the camp they apparently made. Jon is a bit shocked. They have everything— brand new camping equipment, including one large tent and what appear to be all new hiking clothes— strewn all over the ground of their camp site. Khaki cargo shorts, t-shirts, new boots, thick white socks, a sports bra…

Jon glances down and realizes he’s naked as his Name Day. He thanks whatever gods might exist that no one saw him walking back. He grabs his shorts off the ground and pulls them on before gingerly venturing into the hub of that smell, the tent.

He almost faints again. There she is, lying amidst a collection of water-resistant sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows, in all of her glory. If Jon couldn’t smell it on her before, he’d know for certain now that the two of them had slept together. She lies on her back, legs spread, dried fluid clinging to her inner thighs.

Jon stops moving for a short while and just stares at everything he’s dreamt of for the last four centuries. Her pink-tipped breasts, the thatch of auburn curls between her legs, the swell of her hips, the whiteness of her skin. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to pounce on her.

He can’t let her know, not yet. The hair on the back of his neck prickles, and he can smell it. Danger.

Jon works fast and carefully. With every ounce of grace he has, he manages to slip her shorts and t-shirt on. He even does the socks, but doesn’t dare to try with the bra or panties. Thankfully, she stays asleep, but begins to stir when Jon gets her second sock on. Jon tries to play it off, purposely jostling her and whispering her name. “Sansa… Sansa, wake up.”

Her eyes flutter open, and Jon recalls the Mundy tale about her being woken by a prince’s kiss. He wishes he could wake her that way now. But no. Whatever they did under that spell, it was only magic. She’s not his.

Sansa sits up suddenly, her face a mask of panic. “J-Jon? What is going on?! Where am I? Why are we—?”

“I’m not sure,” he confesses, “But you can bet there’s some kind of magical element to it.” He rubs his normally clean-shaven chin, estimating the growth there. “I say we’ve been gone for about three days. We’re in Washington State.”

“Washington—” the blood drains from her face, “Oh gods.” She looks around. “Goldilocks?!”

Jon lifts his nose and inhales deeply. He can smell it. Amidst steel and motor oil and paint. “Yes. She’s behind this. And if she has even half the ballistic power I’m catching off of her, then we need to move. And quickly.”

“Where’s my cane?!” Sansa asks, looking around.

Jon sighs. “Sansa, I don’t think we can afford to have you moving like that. You’re going to have to ride me.”

She blanches. “I—”

Jon shakes his head. “No, I mean literally.” He grabs her hand. “Come on.”

He drags her out of the tent, closes his eyes, and concentrates. He thinks of darting through the woods, the smell of blood on his muzzle, the wind at his fur. He feels himself expand and rise.

When he opens his eyes, he’s no longer a man. He’s gigantic, covered in white fur, mounted on four legs. Sansa stands a few yards off, hand over her mouth. Jon crouches down, lowering his massive neck.

“Get on,” he growls. He can smell her fear, but she grits her teeth and mounts him, straddling his neck and fisting his fur.

He bolts, traversing the woods and climbing the mountain ahead. Sansa clutches him as tightly as she can, but still bounces. Jon keeps going and going, feeling his muscles strain themselves. He can’t possibly escape. Not yet.

He finds a remote ledge surrounded by trees and stops short.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asks.

“Resting. We’re not going to outrun her entirely. We need her to catch us so we can get rid of her once and for all.” Jon sighs. “But before she does, I need to get a few hours sleep while it’s still dark enough to conceal us. And so do you.”

He gets on his belly and closes his eyes. Sansa slides off of him, nodding, and settles herself against his side. “…Jon.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t help but notice… There was only one tent and sleeping bag. And I’m not wearing a bra.”

Jon groans internally and opens his eyes. “You want to talk about that now?!”

Sansa scowls at him. “Don’t give me that. You’re the one who made that absurd overture.”

Jon rests his left forward paw over his muzzle and tries to look away. Right. The night he made a complete arse of himself at the Remembrance Day Ball. When he’d used her sister’s disappearance to trick Sansa into being his date. Not one of his brightest moments. Even now, she’s looking at him with the same expression as when she told him that if he really wanted to get the girl, he should be honest with her and not use a potential tragedy to mislead her.

It had been months since, but he is still reeling from it. “And you’re the one who rejected me. What’s your point?”

“There was one sleeping bag, one tent, and no bra. So answer me. You and that nose of yours would know. Did we or did we not—?”

“No,” Jon lies, not loving himself for it. He can tell her later if he needs to. But now he needs her rested and clear-headed. That’s not happening if she knows. “If I had to guess from the amount of tracks I spotted, I’ve spent this entire trip in wolf form, sleeping under the stars.

The look of relief on her face stings a little. “Good. But Jon…”

“What?!” He asks impatiently. He’s exhausted.

She bristles at his tone. “You can’t blame me for worrying. And wondering about this attraction you suddenly have for me.”

Sudden. That’s hilarious. “Sansa, I’m exhausted…”

“I can’t sleep, Jon. I’m too wired by everything. I need to know, though. We’ve known each other our entire lives. We’ve been reunited for centuries. Why, after all this time, are you interested in me?”

“It’s not ‘all of a sudden’, Sansa.”

“What do you mean?”

Jon decides to change back. This was better expressed in his human form. Once back, he grabs her hand. “Come on, if we’re going to be awake, we might as well be moving.”

She stumbles behind him, “Come on now, you’re stalling.”

Jon sighs. “You know I spent a long time as Ghost, right?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Well, I spent enough time as the wolf to adopt more than just the physical form before Melisandre brought me back. And while I was a wolf, I sort of…. Became part of the community.”

“The direwolf community?” She giggles.

“Don’t laugh, it’s real. Wolves have their own intelligence, their own customs, and their own legends. And while I was with them, I learned of one of them. It was about mating. And how we find our mate in the person or wolf who just… Smells right. And after we find that person, we’re attached to them. When we found one another again, I caught your scent and after that you became… the woman I can’t ignore.”

She almost trips. “That’s flattering.”

“It’s the truth. I can always smell you. Not just your presence, but everything about you and what state you’re in. It’s part of the reason I smoke so much— to block out the smell. And why I went rogue for so long. I knew you’d never be interested, so I tried to stay away. But I couldn’t. I could still smell you.”

He feels her tense up, smells her trepidation. “Jon, I—”

“I never wanted to force anything on you, Sansa. Even after you all came looking for me, I didn’t come to Fabletown expecting anything. But I decided that if I couldn’t ignore you, I could try to satisfy my feelings by protecting you.”

“Still, though, you can’t expect me to react well to you stalking me all these years.”

“I can’t help it!” He scowls. “And it’s not just— I mean, yes, I know where you are every second of every day. Not because I want to. I just do. I’d stop if I could. But it’s not just that. I know your mood, your health. The rare times those smiles you fix for the community are genuine. The periods where you feel so overwhelmed you’re almost ready to give up, but never do. I know when you’re thinking about the time you went to Cersei back in the homelands and when you blame yourself for Father’s death, which is all too often. I know when you’re blaming yourself for Arya’s troubles. I know when you’re in your bathtub crying, which happens at least twice a week. I know when you’re wondering if it’s somehow your fault your marriage to Harry ended the way it did. I know when you’re afraid, like now. But I also know that you’re starting to understand.”

She takes a deep breath. “Jon… I’m tired.”

“Just a little longer, Sansa,” Jon says, picking up the scent. “She’s getting closer.”

~_~_~_~_~_~

They’re at the John F. Kennedy airport, exiting the gate, when Sansa speaks to him for the first time in hours. There’s been a lot of silence. Jon likes to tell himself that it’s over the ax Sansa drove into Goldilocks’s head, but he knows better.

“Jon…”

“—Look, if you want me to move out, I can.” He says quickly. “Whatever you need.”

She shakes her head. “No. Jon… Look. At this point in my life, I’m not interested in tricks or grand gestures or whatever you thought you were doing with that stunt at the Remembrance Day Ball. That being said, I’ve been thinking about it. And… If you’re willing to give me some time and then ask me out nicely, in an honest, straightforward manner, to go out with you… Well, I might not say no.”

Jon feels his heart leap in his chest. “Really?”

She nods. “Really. But I mean it. Honesty and time. I need both.”

Jon pauses and takes a deep breath. “Well, then, Sansa… There’s something you should probably know…”

[smokescreen24]

50 DND Questions

1. What do you think your d&d race would be? Proabably human. If I get the choice, I’d like to be either an Elf or Dragonborn. I’d be cool with either of those. 

2. What class? Mostly likely a fighter? I’m not religious enough for a cleric, and not smart enough for a sorcerer or wizard. I like the idea of being able to throw hands. 

3. What two feats would you have? I’d want the Alert feat, and more than likely the Lucky feat. Alert means my initiative gets improved, and Lucky means that I can reroll a bad throw. Those would get used a lot. 

4. What has been your favorite d&d character you've played? (NPCs count for DMs) I’ve only got the two for now, but Liander’s been getting the most love. She’s probably my favorite. 

5. Which of your d&d characters has been the most like you? Oh, Liander, without a doubt. She’s pretty close to my baseline personality.

6. Which of your d&d characters has been the least like you? And that would be Cade. Cade is just this side of Chaotic Evil, so she’s a little harder for me to get into the right headspace for. Playing her takes a lot out of me, to be honest. 

7. How do you go about making a character or NPC? That’s hard to say - I give the session about an hour or so to feel it out, and let the personalities develop naturally over time. My playing style is reactive, so I let the situation dictate how said character would respond. 

8. What is the most memorable natural 20 you've ever experienced? That would be with Cade. I’d rolled to take out a stone giant, suplexed them (because she’s a barbarian and her strength stat is wild), then chopped his dick off with my battleaxe like I was swinging a golf club. It uh, made an impression on the rest of the party, and the rest of the enemies. 

9. Has one of your d&d characters ever died? How? Not yet, so don’t jinx me! I’m still attached to both of them, and would like to keep them around! 

10. What is your favorite class to play? So far, it’s been my ranger. She’s fun, and I’m digging the whole ‘animals as companions’ thing she’s got going. 

11. Have you ever fought a dragon? Yes. Between Cade and Paileous, we cut it’s head off. It’s currently a trophy back at home base. Got a lot of gold for our trouble, too. 

12. Have you ever fought a beholder? NO. Not entirely sure I wanna, either! 

13. Have you ever fought a mind flayer? No, but it’s coming up. My buddy is having us roll new characters for the Underdark campaign. I might try a cleric just for funsies. 

14. Have you ever had a romance with an NPC or another PC? Nope. I am here to tell you that neither of my characters is looking for any of that. Liander’s too busy, and Cade is a halfling barbarian surrounded by equally questionable Drow paladins and rouges. No thanks. 

15. Do you prefer to DM or play?  I have no desire to DM. I’ve only been playing for a little while, and I’m not creative enough to attempt it. I’ll stick to playing. I’m good at that. 

16. What is your favorite D&D pod/vodcast? I’ve been listening to Critical Role - I’m relistening to the Whitestone/Chroma Conclave arcs. I love No Mercy Percy so much. 

17. Who is your favorite "celebrity dm?" I only know the one - Matt Mercer. 

18. Do you use props/minis/terrain in your game? Very rarely. I think we’ve only had like, two sessions that actually had terrain and mini’s. 

19. How did you discover D&D? My friends. I sat in on one of their games, and just for the hell of it, they rolled me a character, and thus Cade was born. 

20. If you run a homebrew game, give an out of context spoiler. I’m not running it, but smuggling is a thing, and the dude we’re smuggling for is someone whose face is on a wanted poster in my pocket. 

21. Drop a picture of a mini you painted (if applicable) Sorry, I don’t have any minis. They’re all with my DM. 

22. Write a brief scene centered around one of your characters! Uh, hang on -  "That was nice. I didn't ask you to get it for me, and I distinctly remember telling you I can get my own. Not my fault you don't listen worth a damn." Liander says with a slight grin. She doesn't know why, but she likes poking at Chancel. Not many folks react the way he does, and the scowl he sends her just makes her grin wider. "Come on. I cannot possibly be the only one who's pointed that out to you." 

 "Yeah, me. Two minutes ago." Zulth mutters into his mug.

23. Do you have any art of your characters? Yeah, one of my more artistic friends drew a sketch of Liander for me, complete with her cat on her shoulder. It’s pretty cool. It’s also huge, which is why I’m not posting it here. 

24. Have you ever played any TTRPGs other than D&D? No, this is my first foray into TTRPGs. 

25. What is your favorite snack for d&d? I reach for Cheetos or Doritos usually. They’re good, crunchy snacks. 

26. If you could have one potion from d&d, which one would you choose? If I could just load up on superior healing potions for life, I’d be a happy woman. 

27. If you could cast one spell from d&d, which would you cast? Fireball. That’s a nice equalizer, I think. 

28. What is the most memorable natural 1 you've experienced? Oh man. That would be with Liander this time. She was trying to sneak into a well fortified part of the city, and tamper with the water supply for one family. Well, I had to roll to hop the fence to do so, rolled a natural one, my foot caught in the fence, and there was a dog right in front of me. Landed on my face, and got bitten for my trouble. Still got the mission done, though. 

29. Have you ever been drunk playing d&d? I’ve been buzzed. Does that count? 

30. Homebrew or prewritten? Both? Both. Both is good. 

31. Tell me about your current party! Which one? Well, for the Alagaesia campaign, there’s my character Liander, a dwarf named Thorin, a rouge(?) named Zulth, an herbalist named Liam, and the man who hired us, an NPC named Bjorn. We’re actually trying to accomplish something with this campaign, or so the DM says. 

For the Guardians of Gravenhollow campaign, I’m a halfling barbarian named Cade, there’s a drow Paladin named Varis, and another Drow rouge named Paileous. This particular campaign is just chaotic evil fuckery. 

32. Most memorable NPC you've encountered in a game you played in. Victor. He built a clock, I wanted his tinkering kit, and wound up buying both at a just criminally low price. I kinda feel like I ripped him off, tbh. 

33. Do you listen to music while playing? What kinds? Mostly the Skyrim soundtrack with a little Witcher soundtrack thrown in for funsies. Atmospheric stuff. 

34. Favorite accent to do for characters? I don’t really have one for either of my characters. Mostly because I’m bad at keeping it up. I forget. 

35. Favorite classic d&d trope Tragic Backstory(TM). Only one of my characters has it, but it’s damn fun to role-play.

36. What was your first d&d character you made? That would be Cade! She started out as kind of a throw-away, but she got mixed in with Paileous and Varis and she’s living her best chaotic life. 

37. What is the most recent PC or NPC you've created? That’d be Kahtri, actually! I haven’t played her a whole bunch, so I’m not really familiar with her yet, but it’ll be interesting to play a Drow cleric who doesn’t actually worship Lolth. (I don’t do spiders.)

38. Goblins or Kobolds? I actually haven’t dealt with either yet. I’m slightly more familiar with Goblins simply because of CritRole. 

39. Favorite villain you've defeated? Uh, I dunno if I’d classify her as a villian exactly, but Cade’s killed an NPC named Creed who was a servant to the god Grotz. Pretty sure he’s out for revenge now. 

40. What d&d deity would you be a cleric of? I am a cleric of the Drow deity Elistraee. (I had to double check the spelling on that) 

41. Give an out of context quote from one of your games! Liander - “I tried to stop him, but he fucking yote me across the room like I wasn’t even there. Is it weird I’m bitter about that?”

Thorin - *emerges from the wreckage of the crate we were smuggling holding dragon eggs* “I FOUND LIVING ROCKS!” 

Liander and Zulth in tandem - *knows exactly what he’s holding* “Oh for fuck’s sake!” 

42. Have you ever rolled turn into a potted plant on the wild magic table? No, I don’t think I know anyone who plays that particular class, so I’ve never seen it happen. 

43. Minis and terrain or theater of the mind? Theater of the mind, good sir/madam. 

44. Mulligan, Mercer, Murphy, or McElroy? Mercer! Mercer! Mercer! 

45. What is the longest session you've ever had? Oh, jeez. Like, fourteen hours, give or take?

46. What is the longest battle you've fought or run? Uh, that’d be the fight with Creed. It took us like two hours to beat her down with three of us. She was stupid powerful. The bounty was great, though. 

47. Have you ever played at level 20? No, my highest level character is a level 11. I’m working on it, though. 

48. Does your dm say "How do you want to do this?" Oh yes. The table just blows up when that happens, not gonna lie. It’s fun to hear, especially if it’s aimed at you. 

49. Have you ever played an edition other than 5th? No, I started playing last year, so 5th is all I know. 

50. Will you try to convince others to play? Already done so. I’ve added a couple people to the group - my husband, whose character is the best straight man to our fuckery, and one of our mutual friends whose lunacy works with our brand of crazy. 

[flighty37-blog]

Warning: Mention of male body part, mature themes, all the usual apply. 

Disclaimer: Not associated with Dan and Phil.

My first foray into yaoi. I’m a little unpracticed at this, but it helps when you read a lot of fan fic.

Let’s Sort This Out.

Summary: COMPLETE. Something happens when Dan feels something for Phil. I don’t normally ship them, but I feel I can do this justice. Let’s bring on the pie charts and graphs. Awkward. Nerdy. Uncomfortable. Everything wrong that can happen, will happen. Teaching one’s significant other how to hold hands, and how to kiss without gleeking. So it begins....

Dan Howell had lived with Phil Lester, for five out of the eight years he’d known him. Nothing peculiar about that. Friends being flatmates. It wasn’t unusual, especially since they lived in the centre of London, it was cost effective to have two people paying rent. They had built a career on their awkwardness, and were thriving by using YouTube as a platform for their audience. But then something happened.

One morning Dan woke up and knew. He was in love. With Phil. Okay so it wasn’t like he didn’t think he was overthinking it. He over thought a lot of things which put him under his starry blanket, or had him plonked face first onto the carpet in the middle of the hallway. He walked into the kitchen, as he was prone to do at midday and came face to face with Phil. His heart did a little flip, especially when Phil smiled

“Hey Dan!" Phil spoke up. Boy was his smile extra bright today. “Hi Phil," Dan said, and quickly moved to the side to see how much cereal he had left. “I just ordered from Tesco’s," Phil said. Which meant that Phil had left him crumbs in his cereal box. Again. “Sounds good. Did you get me two extra boxes?" Dan asked. “Just one," Phil answered, his smile slipping. “Fine, I’ll be in the lounge," Dan answered. Phil scratched his head, when Dan had gone, his own stomach had flip-flopped, his very heart had skipped a beat, and there was a strange tingling going on....Down There.

What in the world? No. No. He knew his and Dan’s sexual preferences. They were just friends. Just. Friends. They could be friends and flatmates, without being boyfriends. He’d never experienced this sort of thing towards Dan. Sure there had been others, and Dan had this obsession with Evan P., but not with each other.

Especially when the Phans had been pushing so hard. Dan had severely lost weight, Phil, himself had slammed a door so hard the wood splintered, not a great time. So they’d sat down and put down boundaries. Well darn it, it was 2017, way past 2012. Who knew what could go on? The boundaries had seemed blurred for some time now. They were touching shoulders, touching hands, and sometimes accidentally touching butts again.

But the jokes were still there, and the teasing and of course Dan’s patented ‘Heart Eyes’ Phil’s own eyes were dubbed ‘Lester’s Love Eyes’. He shrugged, just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!" Dan called out, and reappeared in the kitchen clutching all the bags in his arms. “Because two trips are for losers," Phil nodded, as he partially remembered a video they’d uploaded a while back. “Damn right," Dan pulled out his brand of cereal, and noticed the other box. “You did buy me two," Dan smiled over at Phil. Phil shrugged. “ I owed it to you," Phil answered. That feeling came back, both coughed in unison.

“Erm, yeah, I have to make some breakfast. Do you have the anime ready to watch?" Dan asked of Phil. “Yeah,” Phil said, as he poured his own cereal, and added the Lactaid milk. Dan made his own cereal. They padded to the lounge in silence. Each ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room. Until... Dan’s hand brushed Phil’s hand, as he reached for the remote to turn on the telly. 

Phil hurriedly hid his hand under his bottom, and blushed. Thank goodness, Dan didn’t see the blush. He turned on the device and he went about turning on the volume. His foot swept Phil’s foot. Dan immediately put his legs under himself, and he went about trying to be normal. He coughed. Phil coughed. They eyed each other. “Out with it," Dan said, being bossy as per usual.

“You out with it first. I’m older, I demand an explanation," Phil pouted and crossed his arms. “Uh-uh," Dan was also being stubborn. Phil closed his eyes. “I can’t watch anime today. I have.... Things to do...." He took his bowl and went to his room. Dan sighed and continued watching. What was going on?! Why was everything so abnormally awkward between them all of a sudden? Not that they weren’t always awkward, but this was a different sort of awkward.

Meantime....

Phil was pacing in his room, sloshing milk over his bowl, the milk running down the top of his arm and hand, and he shook his head. ”I can’t be.... It’s not possible. We never even kissed....I am not.... I am not...I am.....Sloshing milk all over my hand and arm. Ewww...." He swiped his hand on his jeans’ leg.”Ewwww...." Phil sighed and looked about for a tissue. He set the bowl down, and he swiped on the leg of the jeans. “I am such a klutz,"Phil said, tripping over his shoelace. ”I just tied you!" Phil admonished his trainer. ”I reckon I’ll tie you up again...." Phil knelt  and tied his footwear. Again.

In the Lounge:

“I felt my heart skip a beat, I felt m... Penis tingle.... I am in lust, deep black hole, disgusting like/lust/affection with...my best friend!” As, the realisation hit him, Dan buried his face in the palms of his hands, and groaned. “Oh my god! What’s happening to me?! I am not fit to live. I have no life, so that means I’m not living. There we go. Explanation defined. I am not alive. I’m a demon, in hell, fantasising about being human, and therefore I have imagined this whole scenario up, and.... Oh shit! Where’s my blanket?!" He found the starry blanket, and wrapped it around himself, looking quite like E.T., but he didn’t care, as he literally rolled off the sofa, and curled into a ball. “I feel an existential crisis coming on," Dan said, and that was how he remained for the rest of the day.  

The Week Goes On:

Dan was in the shower, he was singing I Write Sins Not Tragedies. One of Panic At The Disco’s popular songs. Phil stumbled in, and started rummaging in one of Dan’s cupboards. “HEY!” Dan yelped, as he saw Phil throwing things hither and yon. “What are you looking for?" Dan asked, as he hoped that Phil wouldn’t turn around.

“A prop. You have props, I need a prop. Therefore...” Phil’s voice trailed off, as he turned to look at Dan. Dan gulped and hurriedly turned off the shower. “MOVE!" Dan yelped as he grabbed for a towel, and hurried past Phil. He accidentally brushed against his flatmate, and made it into his room. Phil sidestepped but got felt up anyway, and sighed. He found the prop, cleaned up, and thankfully he remembered to shut the cupboard. Dan fell face first, and totally naked onto his bed. “That was not what I wanted my shower to turn into. Damn you, stupid erection,” He groaned into his pillow.  

In Phil’s room:

“Well I have the prop, the camera, and me! Time to film," He turned the implements on and he started his video. He finished, and edited, then he uploaded. “Did I really feel that from Dan, after he escaped from the shower?" Phil asked, as he blushed so hard, even his arms became pink. He coughed unnecessarily. He shrugged and then he relocated back to the kitchen. What had he felt exactly? Not just a limb, or an appendage touching him.

What touched him had elevated his heartbeat. He couldn’t take it anymore. But he didn’t want to say anything. What if Dan denied it? What if there were cross words, and an argument? He couldn’t argue with Dan. He’d promised.

So it goes:

Dan finally made himself get out from under the starry blanket. He needed to talk to Phil. But what if Phil shrank away from him? What if he didn’t want to do videos anymore? What if he laughed it off, and made fun of Dan and not in a good natured way? “Let’s face it... We’re gonna ruin our friendship,” Dan sighed at himself. He made his way to the lounge, and bumped into Phil. “Oh, er, hi Dan, you finally moved. Huh?" Phil spoke up. “Yeah I was broiling in that thing," Dan shrugged his shoulder, and rolled it onto Phil’s shoulder.

“Ow!" Phil rubbed at the hurt limb.”Sorry," Dan said.”It’s okay,” Phil said. “Erm Phil?" Dan nervously questioned. “Yeah?” Phil asked in turn.”Phil, remember when I was singing that song, and you came in for a prop?" Dan asked.

Yeah, and then you got all cringey and you escaped to your room," Phil nodded vigorously. “Well I, I have something to tell you. I know, I know, I know,” Dan stammered out. “Oh My God! How did you find out?" Phil asked, as he covered his hands over his mouth. “How did I find out what?" Dan furrowed his brows at Phil. “Well you must be psychic,"Phil said. “I’m secretly Asian, we’ve been over this,” Dan answered, trying to lighten the mood.

“And your biological father”s Kanye,” Phil reaffirmed. “Phil, focus, what’d I find out?"Dan asked. “You found out that I have a crush on you!" Phil blurted out. “What?! No!!! You don’t have a crush on me, because I have a deep blinding, hell hole of a crush on you!" Dan accused. “No way!" Phil’s eyes widened.

“Yes way!” Dan retorted. “Are we in a fanfic?"Phil asked. “No this is real life. Sorry to disappoint you,” Dan said. “Oh. So are we supposed to kiss or something?" Phil asked. “I reckon I push you against the wall and snog you senseless,” Dan surmised. 

“And I consent," Phil nodded. “Great! Let’s try it," Dan said, and lightly pushed Phil against the wall. “Ow! Nail!" Phil squirmed, and became comfortable, as he put his hands on Dan’s shoulders. Dan put his hands around Phil’s waist and leaned in for a kiss. “Pfft! Ewww! Yuck!"Dan gagged.

“What’s happened? Why are you gagging?" Phil asked in alarm.

“Because you kiss like a limp fish, and it was disgusting. You need lessons," Dan answered. “Ummm okay. How about we hold hands?" Phil reached out and grabbed for Dan’s hand, pinching the top skin in the process.

“Hey! I‘m not a pancake that you can just pinch and grab. I’m a human being. UGH! Lesson 101 in Romance. Don’t just grab me like I’m a meal. I’m a person, come here, let me show you how it’s done," Dan answered, and gently took Phil’s hand.

He entwined their fingers, and squeezed comfortingly. ”Oh that feels so much nicer," Phil said. ”Yeah, and we have to work on your gleeking problem. I mean, kissing is all about trading spit, but too much spit ruins a good thing,” Dan gently said. ”Good point. When do lessons start?" Phil asked. “Soon. We’ll give it a few days, and you can practise," Dan said in a decided voice. ”I like the sound of that. What do we practise first?" Phil asked.

“Hand holding, that way you don’t bruise me, and people won’t ask about the injuries. You’ve got to be slow, and easy," Dan answered. ”Okay," Phil amicably agreed. ”Great," Dan leaned over, and he kissed Phil’s cheek. ”I like that,” Phil grinned. “Of course you do," Dan indulgently answered. ”Can we go be romantic and watch a film together?" Phil asked. ”Yep. Let’s go," Dan led the way to the lounge and they ended up watching Stranger Things.

“Let’s watch the first episode again," Phil said. ”It’s so scary!" Dan said.

”I’ll protect you," Phil decided. ”Okay," Dan said, and they cuddled up together. “Ow! Too much pressure on my thigh," Dan said, and wiggled. “You just stepped on my foot," Phil moved his foot. “Stop squishing my side,” Dan said, and let go of Phil’s hand. They finally found a happy medium. ”That’s better," Dan said and laid a head on Phil’s shoulder. “Mmmm," Phil acknowledged. They settled and watched.

Day 1, Lesson 1:

Dan and Phil were facing each other. “Put your hand out like you’re going to shake my hand, only palm up, and fingers wiggling," Dan said. Phil did as he was told, and wiggled his fingers cheekily. “Ooohhh nice and wormy,"  Dan said, and he grinned at Phil. “Now, I slowly, and firmly; but no injury will result, take your hand. Like so...” He took Phil’s hand in his and encased it in his own hand, and slid it so that the fingers were entwined. “Now you try it on me," Dan said, and slipped his hand out of Phil’s own.  

“Okay,” Phil said in a hesitant voice. Dan put out his hand. Phil hesitantly did the same as Dan did. “Ow! Ow! Not so hard... Gently. Gent...ly... Very good! There we go. Handholding achieved," Dan commented. Phil looked so pleased with himself, he smiled and his tongue poked out. “YAY! I did it!" Phil grinned widely. “Okay, now try it again,” Dan demonstrated. He disentangled himself from Phil’s hand hold, although he didn’t want to be free. 

“Do I get a kiss?” Phil was hopeful. “Only when you perfect the handholding technique. Then we’ll talk kissing,” Dan admonished. “Awwwww,” Phil said, and nodded in agreement. Then he tapped his cheek with his free hand. “Ohhh yeahh...” Dan grinned and kissed Phil’s cheek. “Reward! Yay!" Phil smiled. “Kisses on the cheek for every handhold you get right," Dan dictated.

”Okay, I can live with that," Phil nodded.  

Day 2:

“Okay I’ve got the handholding down pat. Can we move on? You know, to the lips?" Phil asked. ”I’ll brush my lips onto your lips," Dan answered. He leaned over and he brushed his lips over Phil’s own. Phil closed his eyes, and he breathed deeply through his nose, making a sort of whistling sound. He squeezed his eyes tighter in embarrassment.

“Sorry!" Phil said.”It’s okay. Just pucker up, and I‘ll do the rest," Dan said. Phil puckered, and Dan brushed his lips against Phil’s.”Oooo, I feel so weird. Weirder than usual. I feel like I could explode in confetti, sparkles, and fireworks. But I wouldn’t get hurt. It would feel nice," Phil said, as Dan finished the light kiss.

“So basically you’d explode from happiness?" Dan asked. “Yup," Phil nodded. “Good to know. Things you should never say, volume twelve and a half," Dan muttered and brushed his lips against Phil again.

Phil brushed his own lips against Dan’s. There was a slight electric shock, and they jumped, but not apart. They did it again. “Oh that’s a good one. Deeper. Not too deep," Dan advised. “I think I’ve got... Oh no, that was gleeking," Phil wiped at his mouth. “Ewwww," Dan scrunched up his nose. ”Again, again!" Phil nearly jumped up and down with joy. “Once more, with feeling," Dan said, and puckered up, as did Phil. “Control your mouth functions, swallow the spit, there we go... Okay, now we’re ready," Dan kissed Phil’s lips, and Phil reciprocated.

More sparks flew, this time it shook them down to their trainers. Well down to Dan’s feet, and Phil’s socks. “Holy moly, rock and rolly!” Phil announced.

”That was pretty epic," Dan agreed. “I like this part," Phil said. ”I thought you might, but we’ll refresh on how to hold hands tomorrow," Dan answered.

“Can, we practise cuddling?" Phil asked. “Yes, because my thigh has a huge bruise on it," Dan answered. ”And my toe is still sore from you stepping on my foot," Phil surmised. “Romantic movie? Comedy? Drama? Horror?" Phil asked. “Horror? I want to cuddle in nice and close, and you can protect me, because you like the really horrific stuff, and I don’t," Dan said. “Lights off?" Phil asked. “Yes," Dan hesitantly answered. “I’ll bring in a houseplant to simulate a tree in the dark,” Phil decided.

“Okay,” Dan’s lips trembled. Phil skipped off to his room, and Dan grabbed a torch. They met back in the lounge, Phil put the house plant that was in the red planter, beside him on the table. “Operation Scary but not too Scary, to commence shortly," Phil said. “Popcorn?" Dan asked. ”Popcorn!" Phil half-ran, half-stumbled to the kitchen and soon there was the aroma of popcorn popping. 

Dan settled onto the sofa, and turned on the torch. He pointed it at the ceiling, and a glow emanated from the chandelier. “Yeahhh," Dan gingerly sat down next to Phil, who filled in the gap, and they held hands. “Nice move, not one pinch. Five out of five pancakes," Dan graded the handhold. “Thank you! Please turn on the telly," Phil asked, and put the bowl of popcorn, one part on each leg. Dan breathed in a sigh of relief. So far so good.

“Are you gonna scream loud? Because I’m pretty sure the police will really be called,” Phil worried, as Dan turned it on, and a scary movie title appeared. “We’ll start out retro. How’s about a bit of Blair Witch?" Dan asked. “I’m always amused by the snot dripping out of that girl’s nose when she cries into the camera,” Phil said. “That’s disgusting you twat," Dan said.

“Meh. It amuses me, and as future king of the universe, I must be amused at every turn," Phil decided in a very posh voice, posher than Dan’s voice. “She was scared for her fucking life, if I were crying that hard, bogies would be coming out of my nose too," Dan said, feeling sorry for the girl. “Yeahhh but it’s still kinda amusing," Phil answered, as the film began. Dan squeezed Phil’s hand.

Two hours later...

“Phil, wake up!" Dan, prodded Phil’s shoulder.  Phil’s head was tilted back. His eyes were closed and he was snoring softly. “Your contacts are still in,” Dan leaned closer and whispered in Phil’s ear. “Agh! Breathing too close to me!” Phil slapped Dan away.

“Ouch! Too close to the face! Stop being a dork, let’s go to bed. You’re exhausted and I need to check my social media," Dan said in a decisive tone, putting the bowl on the table, and picking up his tablet, his laptop and his phone.

“Coming,” Phil said, picking up the bowl, depositing it in the sink, and following Dan out of the lounge. “Can we sleep together?" Phil asked. Dan shook his head in the negative. “No, we have to work up to it. This isn’t some steamy romance novel. You can barely kiss me without gleeking, and your hand holding’s still atrocious," Dan said, but kissed Phil’s cheek anyway.

“I’ll telekinesis to make myself better at hand holding and kissing," Phil decided.

“Good for you, and take out your contacts, and don’t leave the lenses pot on the tap, and... before you eat my cereal sometime later tonight, please order some from Tesco’s before I wake up? I like little surprises like that," Dan said.

“OH! Romantic gestures? I can do that!" Phil said, and went to the bathroom. “First things first, you’re freakishly tall, it’s weird, you look like a noodle...” Phil hummed. “No Diss Track For You!" Dan yelped from his bedroom. ”Sorry! It was stuck in my head for a reason," Phil said, and hummed under his breath. 

“No under humming either," Dan said. “You know me way too well,” Phil said.

“Because you’re my best friend, and other," Dan answered. ”That didn’t make any sense," Phil said. “You’re my significant?" Dan asked. “Okay?" Phil scrunched his face up, peeled back his eyelids and took out the contact lenses. ”Shizzle!” Phil exclaimed. 

“Looking for these?" Dan sashayed in twirling Phil’s glasses. ”Yes! Thank You!” Phil kissed Dan smartly on the lips, and not an airbrushed kiss, a kiss, kiss. A kiss so kissable that the fire and electricity shot through them, igniting their hearts and their cortexes.

“WHOA! All the way to the brainstem." Dan breathed out heavily.

“Did I just do an exercise?" Phil questioned. “Let’s do that again!” Dan said. ”Nope, not until I master handholding and regular kissing, and then I can totally surprise you and set you on fire, hopefully not literally," Phil amended.  

“I’ve created a monster!" Dan threw his hands in the air, and walked away. “Yeah? I’m a good monster, full of pure intent, and I radiate the sun," Phil answered. “You’re radioactive, radioactive,” Dan sang out. “Huh. All systems go," Phil grinned and put on his glasses. He snuggled up in bed, cradling Lion, and one of his four pillows. “Mmmm....” Phil smiled and fell asleep.  

Day three:

“Now the secret to handholding is that one arm is around the other person. Like so,” Dan put his arm around Phil’s waist. “Remember what I taught you. Palm up, fingers wiggling, open invitation, and voila! I am holding your hand!" Dan raised their interlocked hands in a sign of victory. “Yas!" Phil nodded. “Things Phil Should Never Say," Dan wrote into the air with his free pointer finger. “You’re sexy,” Phil suddenly said, which brought Dan up short, and he side glanced over at Phil. “I’m what?" Dan asked.  

“Sexy. Isn’t that something a crush says to another crush? Because, I know that we’re not on the level of boyfriends just yet, but we’re totally holding hands, and snogging each other, and, I’m supposed to pay you compliments now; Right?” Phil scratched his head with their hands. “Sure. Totally, and after that, you buy me dinner and flowers," Dan said in a monotone voice.

“We’d have to go outside?" Phil asked. “Pizza and some Mario Kart 8?" Dan asked. “Sure!” Phil exclaimed, his blue eyes lighting up. “Let’s order pizza first, and then we race," Phil said. “I was gonna say that,” Dan said.

“I beat you to it,” Phil led Dan to the lounge, then let go of Dan’s hand and ordered dinner. Dan sat down in his sofa crease and started up the console.

“I’m going to destroy you,’ Dan promised. “We’ll see about that!" Phil grinned over at Dan. ”Oh there’s no doubt I’m better than you at Mario Kart 8," Dan answered. 

“Just like when I was telling you about the Gear Pokemon and Nosepass?" Phil grinned and grabbed a controller. “Shut up and let the master show you how it’s done," Dan retorted. “You definitely mean me," Phil replied. ”Shut up,” Dan said. They started their game, and a few minutes later there was a knock on the door. “Pizza! Phil go get it,” Dan paused the game. “On my way" Phil ambled down the stairs.

The Big Announcement:

“So while we’re overjoyed by the prospect of this new turn our lives have taken, and yes Phan is finally real... Kudos, to the ones who figured it out beforehand. Be mindful of what you’re asking. This is still new to us," Dan said, taking on the ‘Uncle Daniel’ persona, and speaking as if he were in the Internet Support Group portion of one of his videos.

“And Everyone gets a gold star, and snacks, lots and lots of snacks!!!!" Phil chimed in, his eyes sparkling. ”Also, our families are dealing with the news, and they’re very supportive, but don’t press them. Especially not Cath, Nigel, or Martyn, or Cornelia. And us, we’re still dealing with our feelings, our emotions.... But so far, so good. We’ve managed to hold hands and not injure ourselves," Dan held up their hands for the world to see.

It was during their live show, their much anticipated collaboration live show. Congratulations, I Told You So’s, and much more flooded in. They ended their show, and turned off the laptop.

Both breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well that went as well as expected. We’re so going to be trending. Probably top eleven," Dan said. “I can’t wait," Phil replied. He leaned over, cupped a hand under Dan’s chin. “More practise," Phil said, and covered Dan’s lips with his own. “Mmmmm...” Dan spluttered, but gave in and closed his eyes. Enjoying the small amount of pressure applied. They pulled apart. “That-That was...” Dan couldn’t think of any adjectives, nouns, or even verbs to clarify just how that kiss had made him feel. And he felt as if his wholesomeness had yet more light being pumped into it, almost overtaking the dark part of his soul.   

“WOW!" Dan said, and he kissed Phil. “Mmm...” Was Phil’s only response as he too melted into the kiss, and he felt as if his whole being was lit up with butterflies, fireworks, a few exploding confetti cannons. Happiness, unbridled happiness poured through each pore, each orifice of his body. He didn’t think he could contain it all, and put his arms around Dan, pulling him closer. He sat Dan down on his lap and then he pulled away. ”I-I-I love you?" Phil gasped out.

“And I love you, you twat," Dan answered.

“Reasons why Dan’s not a fail...YAY!” Phil grinned up and over at Dan. “I over think, I under sleep, but I manage to keep you on your toes," Dan playfully rapped. “And wet you just like need a cuddle,” Phil added. “That was gross, yet flattering,” Dan responded. “Thank you. I had to think on the fly,” Phil retorted, his eyes sparkling, and his smile, widening. 

“You’re such a dork,” Dan said, and playfully punched Phil’s shoulder.

“What was that for?” Phil asked, rubbing his shoulder. “For, for, nothing? For everything? I don’t know,” Dan slid off of Phil’s lap, and back into the sofa crease. “Don’t shy away. Please?” Phil took Dan’s hand again, and squeezed it in a reassuring way. “I love you so much,” Dan sighed, and turned away. “So do I. I return those feelings wholeheartedly,” Phil answered. “I hope this is real, and not something my brain’s conjured up to torture me,” Dan said, and let out a shuddering breath.

“Of course not. If it was a brain conjuring upper thing, I would be... I’d be....Not me. I’d never trip, I’d never gleek. You’d be stuck in this weird paradigm, this strange parallel," Phil tried to reassure Dan. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s true. Unless.... You’re Fernando trying to trick me,” Dan let a glimmer of a smile back onto his face. Phil shook his head. “Fernando? I guess you’d be Daniel-X-Dream,” Phil retorted. “Silver hair and all,” Dan said, and looked down at his black on black ensemble.

“You let the waves come back. I missed those curls,” Phil said. “Only because I”m done straightening my hair, but I’d miss it if you went back to not dyeing your hair black,” Dan said. “Which is never going to happen, as I like my black hair and straightening my hair. And I’m thirty, so I’m beyond saving,” Phil retorted. “Never!” Dan affected, as he placed his hand over his heart. Phil furrowed his brows, trying to figure out Dan’s meaning.

“Never too old,” Dan clarified, and Phil nodded. “Good to know,” Phil said, and he too breathed a body shuddering sigh. “You thought I’d be disgusted by you, just because you’re thirty?” Dan asked. “I’m old. You’re still in your twenties. I can’t compete,” Phil said. “OML! Hell no! You’re stuck with me mate,” Dan answered, and leaned into Phil’s personal space. ‘Accept it,” Dan said, and he kissed Phil again. This time it was a quick reassuring kiss. “This I can definitely live with," Phil said as they pulled apart 

Visitors:

“Hey Bro! Philly!” Martyn called out, pulling Cornelia behind him. It was the next day and Martyn had texted saying he and Cornelia were on their way to the guys’ flat. “Upstairs,” Dan and Phil called out in unison. Cornelia smiled. They were one of the first ones to witness ‘Phan in action’, with their own eyes. Perhaps not the very first ones, as Chris, PJ, and Louise, and even Cat over in America had witnessed their own versions of the ˜Phan Phenomenon”, as Twitter had dubbed it, for themselves.

“You’d Better Be Decent!” Martyn called back. “I’m as Decent As They Come! It’s Dan who’s got questionable Morals!” Phil sang out. “Hey!” Dan retorted. “I’m not in the least bit.... Dan! Dan! Put the cutting board down! Release! Release!!!!”

Martyn and Cornelia found the two in the kitchen covered head to toe in flour, Dan brandishing a purple cutting board, and Phil raising his arms and playfully fending him off. Cornelia had her hands on her hips, but she was laughing so hard she could barely contain herself.

“Soooo you were out in public with Chris, and PJ, and Louise the other night and you held hands and kissed?” Martyn just jumped right into it, stopping the fight, and the cutting board clattered onto the counter, creating a loud bang. Both guys turned around and sheepishly faced the older pair. “Y-Yeah,” Dan spluttered out. “Good for you!” Martyn stepped into the kitchen and slapped both of them on their backs, and floury dust clouds flew into the air.

“I’m so pleased!” Cornelia said in English, then went over, and made them bend down a little, and she wrapped one arm around each of their necks and sobbed into their shoulders, as she spoke rapidly in Swedish. “There, now see what you’ve done? You’ve broken my girlfriend,” Martyn, looked quite amused. He was now sitting up at the table arms crossed. “Hey, food’s almost ready, Dan set the table,” Phil directed. “Consider it done Mon cheri,” Dan answered. 

“Oh! French!” Cornelia, peeled herself off of the two tall men, whom she considered younger brothers. She sat beside Martyn, and they too held hands. Dan expertly set the table, and Phil brought the food over. “Dig in,” Phil said in a nervous voice. “This is great,” Cornelia said after the first bite. “Nothing like Mum’s, but she’d be pleased,” Martyn conceded. “Martyn! You’re terrible,” Cornelia slapped a hand across his shoulder. “Wow, she’s bossy like you,” Phil muttered.  

“What was that?” Dan asked. ”Nothing,” Phil grinned. Dan grinned back. The four ate in silence. Afterwards, after Dan and Phil had cleaned up, it was time for a few card games. “Poker, I want a chance to win some of your dosh,” Martyn said. “You wish,” Phil retorted and the four went into the lounge. Dan cut the cards. It was definitely a pleasant evening.

Early the next morning:

Phil collapsed face first on Dan’s other pillows in his bed; waking him up. Dan, rolled over, looked at the clock; groaned and looked over at Phil. “What are you doing? It’s not even midday,” Dan’s voice was rough from sleep. “I can’t sleep. The sky’s awake, so I’m awake. Wanna build a snowman?” Phil looked up with pleading in his eyes. “Did it start snowing all of a sudden?” Dan slowly reached out and ruffled Phil’s hair. Phil smiled a little, his eyes alive and shining. “Nope. It’s just a few lines from Frozen, Phil answered.

“I can’t believe I let you watch that piece of filth,” Dan grumped.

“You didn’t. I, as a fully fledged adult, plunged myself into that universe. And I’m not even sorry I did,” Phil answered.

“I can’t tell,” Dan sarcastically answered. He prepared to go back to sleep, and felt a weight on his shoulders. Phil’s arm was around him. “I’m going back to sleep now. You can join me, but we’re definitely not sleeping together, only together-together, because I’m not kicking you out of my bed. A: Because I’m too tired to do so. B: Because I’m a lazy asshole,” Dan powerpointed.

“Okay,” Phil snuggled up against Dan, and Dan drew the slightly shorter man close to him, and wrapped all his limbs about him. “Now close your eyes, and count sheep, or hippos, or whatever you’re on this month," Dan said, as he breathed in and out and Phil did the same. “I’m counting chickens,” Phil said in a low voice. “Count chickens then," Dan said, and kissed Phil’s cheek. “One cock-a-doodle-doo...” Phil started. “I thought you said chickens?" Dan asked, his voice getting sleepier. “The roosters are quite ‘fowl’,” Phil said, his own voice lowering as he drifted back to sleep. “Indeed they are,” Dan smirked, and the two men fell fast asleep again.  

Midday; same day:

“Rise and shine Phil,” Dan turned off the alarm, and nudged Phil’s still prone body. “I don... wanna...I wanna s’eep,” Phil slurred.

“It’s midday, time for cereal. You did order me some more cereal didn’t you?” Dan asked. “Go and see,” Phil sat up, and he pulled his glasses back on. Dan raised suspicious eyebrows at his flatmate/significant other. Dan walked into the kitchen. Not only did he have boxes of cereal awaiting him, but there were gigantic red bows on the front, and a small bouquet of flowers, and small boxes of assorted chocolates.

“Hell has sent me an angel, in the guise of choccies! Truly Satan loves me!” Dan sang out. “If Satan’s your main man, then what am I?” Phil folded his arms across his chest.

“You’re my...angel? So like Satan’s on one side, and you’re the good one?” Dan tried to explain.

Phil burst out laughing, ”Great....Yeah.....Roman Catholicism would be tearing me a new arse right about now,”  

“Oh yeah, I forgot you believe in God, or whatever,” Dan waved his hand about. “And you’re Agnostic. We still work, and I haven’t been to church in forever. Don’t sweat it. God still loves me, it’s those danged priests,” Phil answered.

Dan burst out laughing this time. “Priests? Don’t you mean clergy?” Dan asked. “Nope, we’re still Catholic, so priests is a relevant term,” Phil answered.  

“So glad we can discuss religion without being ticked off with each other,” Dan said. “Me too,” Phil answered. “Now eat,” Phil spoke again.

“I love the flowers too by the way. I finally have someone to buy me flowers and chocolate. Did you do something to the computer in the office?” Dan was suddenly suspicious.

“No! I just thought you’d like them is all,” Phil answered. “Okay then,” Dan made his cereal, and walked into the lounge. Phil coming in behind him a few minutes later. “You think I‘d buy you chocolate and flowers every time I did something wrong?" Phil asked.

“That’s exactly what you’d do. You’d be stereotypical,” Dan answered.

”Cliche?” Phil asked, he pushed out his lower lip and gave Dan a sad look.

“Like that look, right now,” Dan affirmed, and smiled affectionately over at him. “I reckon,” Phil sighed with contentment, and took a bite of his own cereal.

“Since we’re together-together, you know the holding hands kind of together; shouldn’t we share cereal? No more his/his cereal, more of ˜our own’ cereal,” Phil spoke up.

“I’m not ready for that kind of commitment just yet,” Dan answered, hand over his heart. “Until you are, I’ll be there for you,” Phil answered in kind.

“You know we’re debating cereal. Right?” Dan wanted to make sure. “Yeah,” Phil responded. “As long as you know that,” Dan patted Phil’s head affectionately.

They padded to the lounge, not daring to hold hands, as they might become klutzy in that moment and spill everything everywhere.  And so the day went, they ate, they watched Anime, and they enjoyed each other’s company. Loving how well their hands seemed made for each other. “I could get used to this,” Phil murmured. “Well better just get used to it then. Because, well, this shit isn’t going away any time soon,” Dan answered.

Dan did everything with his whole heart, and since he realised he was now in love with Phil, he wouldn’t be getting out of this any time soon. “I’m not arguing with you,” Phil decided. “You’re never going to win,” Dan retorted.  

Phil opened his laptop and pressed a button, “Hi... So... my name is.... [Dan]....” Phil gave Dan a triumphant smile. “AGH! No! Shut It Off! My Ears!” Dan threw a cushion at the laptop, nearly toppling it over. “That’s bullying, and bullying isn’t nice. Not even in a relationship,” Dan frowned at Phil.

“Sorry,” Phil looked anything but apologetic. “Delet that right now! In fact, delet yourself,” Dan countered. ”Then you wouldn’t be able to hold my hand, or make me buy you flowers whenever you’re angry with me,” Phil counter replied. “That’s true,” Dan mused. They continued with eating their cereal. 

The next day:

Dan awoke to immense pressure squeezing his middle, and a long leg wrapped around his lower body, causing a rather painful erection, which was bad enough, but having to use the bathroom made it extra painful. “Really?” Dan muttered as he tried to wiggle out of the vise like grip. He got squeezed tighter. “What’d I say about the ‘no sleeping together’ rule I put up? You know....boundaries?” Dan said through gritted teeth, as he lost the battle.

“Mmmm....Mummy I want the rest of the Crunchy Nut Cereal. Please... But, Mummy I don’t want to go to school...” Phil sleep talked.

“Great,” Dan grimaced. He gave an almighty push, and he was free. “Damn pheromones,” Dan muttered as he did his business and hunkered back into bed. Immediately he was grabbed, and held like one would hold a teddy bear.

Dan gritted his teeth, found his own bear, and wedged it between them. Instantly the bear was grabbed by Phil and held close to his chest. “Heyyy...Phil?” Dan nudged him. “Hmm?” Phil lazily asked as he sleepily opened an eye. “What in the world are you doing in my bed?” Dan said, sounding a bit like Shrek.

“I got lonely, and I just crawled into bed. I didn’t really touch you, and we’re not having...You know....” Phil yawned so loud, Dan was sure the walls were going to rattle. Sometimes Phil sounded like Godzilla. Dan yawned as well, since yawns were found to be contagious.

“Ready to finally wake up?” Dan asked. “Coffee?” Phil asked. “Alright,” Dan answered, and got out of bed, padding to the kitchen, and starting the coffee maker. “It’s a good thing I love you!” Dan called over his shoulder, and he was engulfed in a backwards hug. “And I think it’s great that you do! You make me smile,” Phil answered. “BLEH! Not so early in the morning!” Dan begged, as he rummaged about in the fridge, putting bacon, sausage, some eggs and a loaf of bread on the counter.

“Baked beans,” Phil offered. “You want a typical English Breaky?” Dan asked, as he ‘lubricated’ the pan. “Yes please!” Phil, went to lean against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “What am I the housewife in this relationship?” Dan asked. “No of course not. We’re not assigning stereotypical roles. We share the responsibilities fifty/fifty. And manipulate each other in doing what we want. Like me wanting a real English Breaky,” Phil pointed out.   

Dan moved his head side to side in acknowledgement. “Fine by me, but if we have kids, like, in the far future; I’m not ‘mum’. Get it?” Dan waved the spatula about, as he gesticulated.

“I get it,” Phil ducked as the spatula flew out of Dan’s hand and over Phil’s head, hitting the wall in the dining room. Phil raised an eyebrow and went to fetch it. He returned it to the sink and went back to leaning against the counter. Dan cracked a couple of sunny side up eggs, and then some  tinned baked beans went inside a pot. He stirred them up. He then made some toast, while Phil got out the butter and jam.

“Strawberry and orange marmalade, ”Phil announced. Coffee’s ready!” Phil clapped his hands and got out the mugs. Dan got the pastel unicorn mug, and Phil got the cat whiskers mug. Dan made his own coffee, and Phil added in stuff with his own coffee. “Ahhh....” Both sighed in relief as the caffeine hit their bloodstreams.  

“Much better,” Dan said, as he finished making the breakfast, and put it on a plate. They ate in relative silence, both checking their media sources. Just then Phil reached out his foot to play “footsie’ with Dan. “Ouch! You’re not meant to mash my foot,” Dan looked over his phone at Phil. “Sorry!” Phil said. “It’s okay. I’ll try,” Dan said, and ended up kicking the chair. “Ouch!” Dan exclaimed again. Dan’s foot made it up to Phil’s shin.

“Footsie, Dan, footsie...” Phil rubbed his foot against Dan’s ankle. “We’ll practise that too,” both said in unison as they returned to their phones, finished up and then turned on their laptops.

Lunch (Or a variant thereof):

It was about three pm or so, they were having ‘lunch’, having had ‘breakfast’ at eleven they’d tweeted, and Wattpadded, and all sorts of media. Now they were sitting watching Iwatobi Swim Team, and afterwards starting a Steven Universe Marathon.

“Live show,” Phil put a palm to his forehead. “Is it Thursday?” Dan asked. “Yeah, and we’ve been so busy. Wanna join or shall I fly solo?” Phil reached over and kissed Dan’s cheek before standing up. I’ll let you fly solo for this one. I need to prep for my next live show,” Dan answered. “Alright, see you in about forty-five minutes. Give or take a few seconds for the camera to actually behave and shut down like it’s supposed to,” Phil ambled towards his room.

“One day we’ll have a maisonette,” Dan said to himself.

In Phil’s room:

“One day we’ll have enough storage in a maisonette, and I’ll get a fish,” Phil said to himself. He started his live show.

In the lounge:

Dan was casually going through the classifieds, and sipping some coffee. What would happen next in this flat? More cracks? More gas leaks? Phil setting more things than their oven mitts on fire? If something else happened, they were moving, no argument. He hummed under his breath. Just then Phil came back in. “Dog, Doggo, get a dog....” Phil muttered. ”What?” Dan asked, looking confusedly at Phil. “Loads of people are telling us to get a dog,” Phil shrugged and answered.

“Well we can’t; because we’re renting,” Dan answered. “I told them that, you told them that. But they just won’t listen,” Phil shook his head. “Are you feeling tension?” Dan asked.

“I reckon I am,” Phil sat down with a slight huff under his breath. “Well, don’t worry it’ll be okay. Don’t mind the pushy subscribers. Just love them as much as you can,” Dan was in ’therapy mode’.

“I don’t usually mind the pushy ones, but it’s just that they won’t give up sometimes,” Phil shrugged. “They’re young, some as young as eleven. And everyone has an opinion. Even the older ones, but they’re of the silent majority. Take it as it comes,” Dan patted Phil’s shoulder.

Phil silently nodded. “Massage?” Dan suddenly asked, surprising Phil, who kept nodding. “Okay then, I’ll massage you first. Then you return the favour,” Dan said. Phil nodded, and positioned himself on the floor.

Dan slid behind him, so that Phil was between his legs. “Oh you’re tense,” Dan kneaded his partner’s shoulders, and then his neck. “Oh that feels so good!” Phil sighed in contentment. “You’re all knotted up,” Dan said. “Yeahh....” Phil answered. “Just relax,” Dan said, and massaged further down. “Just don’t touch my feet,” Phil pleaded.

“If I promise to be really gentle?” Dan asked in return.

"I’m really ticklish though,” Phil was unsure. “I know you are. There’s not much I don’t know about you. We live together for Christ’s sake,” Dan retorted. “Yeah I know, it’s just...” Phil blushed all the way to his neck. “There, there, Philly,” Dan lightly ruffled his hair. 

“You always know just what to do,” Phil said. He leaned his head back and smiled up at Dan. “You bet your sweet arse I do,” Dan acknowledged. “We’re psychically connected,” Phil said. “Of course, we’re two nerds,” Dan reaffirmed. “That we are,” Phil grinned, as Dan finished the massage.  

“My turn,” Dan spoke up.

“What makes you think I want to massage you?” Phil tried to wink at Dan, and Dan just grunted up at him, and ‘winked’ back.

“You’re an idiot,” Dan affectionately said.

“I”m an idiot sandwich,” Phil corrected. “Only some days,” Dan answered, as Phil slid in behind him, and he slightly put pressure on Dan’s waist, sort of locking him in, and started the massaging process.

Neck first, and then on to the shoulders. Dan didn’t flinch. He, almost never flinched when Phil played with his neck. Except for one time, but that had been for show. Phil, kneaded the neck, and rolled the skin in gentle balls, between his thumb and forefinger.

“How is it that you’re not a master masseur?” Dan asked. “I don’t know, I kinda just like making YouTube videos,” Phil answered, as he moved to Dan’s shoulders and then down his back. “Much better,” Dan said, as he wriggled a little. “Feeling uncomfortable?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, I think I’m finished with this massaging thing,” Dan answered and they stood up. “Well that was entertaining for a bit, glad we hashed things out. What time is it?” Dan looked at his phone. “Nearly five,” Phil answered, also looking at his phone. “Dinner time!” They said in unison.

A week later....

Phil was watching a video on YouTube, and Dan was in the kitchen. Phil was watching something called ‘The Book of Life’, and it featured clips of the two of them, and the voiceover was incredible. So incredible he was moved to tears. He sniffed a little, and then he started ugly crying when it got to: “It doesn’t mean I’m nobody, cause I care....”

He blew his nose into the tissue, and continued: “But there is a line, that when you cross it, you know, that, that really hurts. You told me, nobody wanted you, okay we get that. But then you have the nerve to tell me that there is no such thing as, happiness or love, right there, I know that is a lie. You tell me that happiness and love is a lie, right now you’re lying to me when you say that, because I know happiness; I know love...” Phil’s eyes leaked more tears. 

He wiped his eyes across his sleeve. The video continued its litany: “Something’s happened along the way.... Fairy tales are not lies, they’re supposed to inspire you....” “Dang straight,” Phil agreed with the video. “Phil? Hon? Are you okay?” Dan had a worried look on his face, a dish towel in his hand. Phil looked up with tear streaked cheeks, and he nodded. “I’m fine. Just this video...” Phil answered, and hiccoughed.

“And I will write yours and mine at the same time...” The video continued. “Life is hard, writing your book of life, is gonna be difficult....” The video got muted. “Oh Philly,” Dan sat next to Phil and muted the video. “I’m not that person anymore; I’ve seen this video. I believe in fairy tales. I believe in love. I believe in it all, and it was all because of you. You know that, don’t you; you ass?” Dan smiled over at his partner, and wiped the tears off his face

“I’m sorry, it’s just that this video really explains us. What friendship is, what our awkward relationship is, I....” Phil turned away.

”You’re brave Phil. And for a while you were the only brave one. You fought for me every chance you could get, and you still do. But after awhile, I took up that mantle too. I defend us both as well. We’re partners, we’re in this together. Try and get rid of me. Just try, and by damn, I will claw my way back to you. Do you understand me you oaf?” Dan asked.  

“Oaf?” Phil questioned, though his lips parted in a semi-smile. “Oaf, ogre, warlock, whatever,” Dan answered, as he hugged Phil, and ruffled his mate’s hair. “You’re sure?” Phil asked.

”As sure, as I know that pastel is a wonderful look, that black’s a great colour, and you’re my friend, my soulmate,” Dan said. “Oh no, you’ve gone all cute, and lighthearted,” Phil said. “Because, you wanker, I love you,” Dan said, and patted Phil’s knee. “Yeahh....” Phil responded, and laid his head on Dan’s shoulder, and put his hand through Dan’s.

Dan squeezed it, and he let out a sigh. “Now watch something sillier,” Dan demanded.

“O-Okay,” Phil gulped, and he wiped his face off. “Did you just call  me ‘Hon’?” Phil asked. “You just now realised that? I guess it just slipped out,” Dan shrugged, as he squeezed Phil’s hand again.

“What do I call you?” Phil asked.

“Anything you want,” Dan answered.

“Sweetie?” Phil tried.

“No, your mum calls me Sweetie. It’d just be weird if you said it to me too,” Dan answered. “Sugar pie?” Phil tried out, affecting a ‘Texan’ voice.

“Do I slap you now or later?” Dan questioned.

“I’ll think of something so romantic it’ll knock your socks back on,” Phil decided, and got quiet again.

“If you watch that Phan 2009 song again, I’ll knock your socks off, and hide them,” Dan threatened. 

“Not the mismatched socks!” Phil said.

“Did you just sound like Gingy, and make it sound like ‘Not the gumdrop buttons’?” Dan asked. “Well with how many times you’ve watched Shrek, and made me watch it; I like Gingy the best,” Phil answered.

“Fair point. But Shrek is my ultimate O.T.O.,” Dan said.

“OTO?” Phil questioned.

“One True Ogre,” Dan said.”

Hm...As long as you’re not so obsessed with him, that you leave me all alone,” Phil said.

“Who knows what’ll happen? Maybe Shrek will have a crush on me, and we might take up housekeeping. Forget Fiona, and the triplets. It’ll be Dan and Shrek 4-evs,” Dan emphasized as he smiled slightly. “I’m slightly jealous. Maybe Fiona and I will form our own love bond with Donkey and Dragon,” Phil was planning it out in his head.

Dan raised an eyebrow. “A foursome with bestiality? I don’t condone that!” Dan lectured.

“Yeah well, you’ll be busy housekeeping with an ogre,” Phil argued good naturedly.

“Whoa, slow down there Phil. No need for hostility,” Dan smiled. Phil smiled back.

”Nah, I like what we have going on here,” Phil decided.

“I’m with you. But should Shrek ever come to life...No promises,” Dan said. “Deal,” Phil answered.

“What’s next?” Dan asked

“We do whatever we want to do,” Phil said.

“I like being a responsible adult,” Phil continued. “Well let’s look at the classifieds and see if there’s any good prospects out there for living space,” Dan suggested.

“Tired of living in this fire hazard?” Phil asked.

“I’m tired of the constant drilling,” Dan said.

“Me too, and the sex noises and whatever else is going on here. Reckon I could eat through the walls?” Phil grinned.

“Well they are made out of rice paper,” Dan shrugged.

“If I were desperately hungry...” Phil mused. Dan rolled his eyes.

“You’re a bonafide twat,” Dan gave him a section of the classifieds.

“Can we look up maisonettes? I’ve always been curious about them,” Phil started.

“They’ve got loads of storage,” Dan said.

“Is that the deciding factor?" Phil asked.

“Yep,” Dan nodded, and left it at  that.

“Storage and space, and how many bedrooms?” Phil asked.

“Two? Three? As long as we have storage and space,” Dan repeated that last part.

“Three, one for us; one for the office, and one for in case we have guests,” Dan outlined his perfect living space.

“Sounds good. But we’ll still have to be in London. Hopefully on a quieter road, and absolutely No Drilling,” Phil emphasized.

“And no lost lovers,” Dan decidedly put out in the air.

”A lounge, and maybe we can find one with a wall that is so beyond cool, and opens up that I can use for my own personal office,” Dan said, as they looked over the classified paper ad.

”And, most importantly, our joint office has got to be clear of a neighbors’ bedrooms,” Phil added.

“Right, and a maisonette is made up of levels. It’ll be a totally odd flat,” Dan put in.

“Which will be perfect for me, because....What d’you know? I’m odd,” Phil grinned.

“Yeah you are. But that’s okay, I think I’ll keep you around for a bit longer,” Dan said.

“Stop being romantic. It’s creepy,” Phil pseudo scoffed.

“Right. Fine.I’ll be ‘mean’ to you,” Dan responded.

“Lol Rant?” Phil asked.

“I’ll go on a ‘Lol rant’ just for you,” Dan said.

“YAY!” Phil clapped his hands.

“Must you ‘Yay’ at everything?” Dan asked. 

“Yep,” Phil answered.

“Okay then. What shall I get on to you about this time? Not cereal. That’s an overused cliché,” Dan mused.

“Ohhh ohhh ooooohhhhh Pick Me!” Phil raised his hand.

”Yeah? You with the black hair,” Dan pointed out.

“What about my lense pot?” Phil bit his lower lip.

”What about your lense pot?” Dan asked.

“Think of something,” Phil prodded.

“Did you drop it down the sink?” Dan asked.

”I don’t remember,” Phil responded.

“Let me think of something to ‘LOL rant’ at you about,” Dan said.

”Something that will make me properly ashamed, and curl up into a ball,” Phil responded.

“Not now. I’m stuck for ideas,” Dan decided.

“I should be over all the butterflies,” Phil started singing Parmore out of nowhere. “I’m into you, I’m into you,” Dan finished, and grinned.

“I like this song,” Phil said.

“I do too,” Dan said, and they turned on Phil’s laptop and the song came blaring out of the speakers. 

“I should be over all the butterflies....” Phil said.

“And baby even on our worst nights, I’m into you. Let them wonder how we got this far, because I don’t even need to wonder at all....” Dan sang back.

Phil rolled his eyes and opened his arms, putting the laptop to one side. Dan cuddled into Phil’s side.

“You felt the weight of the world fall off your shoulder,” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear, as he put an arm around Dan’s whole body.

“I’m into you....” Dan sang back.

“Let’s just stay here and sing,” Dan said.

“Sounds good to me,” Phil acknowledged.

“It’s a peppy song,” Dan added.

“I know. Something I didn’t think you would listen to,” Phil said.

“I like it. It’s not MCR or anything, but it’s not bad,” Dan answered, and snuggled closer.

“You’re too soft,” Phil said.

Dan punched Phil’s knee, “Too soft?”

“OUCH!" Phil, rubbed his knee with his hand. “Never mind,” Phil said.

”That’s right. I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Put it on a loop,” Dan said.

“Fine by me,” Phil said, and did as he was told.

“After all this time, I‘m still into you,” Phil grinned.

And that’s how they spent their evening.  

The End.