#everyday i get to see phils chest hair is a good day

[mothra-mcyt]

Is there any way we could get the safe alphabet but for smp!techno?

☾ c!Technoblade SFW Alphabet ☽

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Because of his trusts issues he's not really affectionate at first but when he really trusts you he will shower you in affection. He'll always bring you gifts in hopes of you liking it. Also gifted you a totem for when he's not there to protect you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The friendship probably started with Phil kinda taking you under his wing and introducing you to Techno.

Honestly he would be a great best friend. Would be very protective over you because he wants to keep you safe and not let anything hurt you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He doesn't really like cuddling but when you hug him once he nearly breaks down realising how touch starved he really is. Won't really initate cuddling but you'll see signs of him giving you more hugs.

He likes to be the big spoon because he likes to know that you're safe and that nothing can hurt you. When the voices are really bad tho or he's not feeling good he likes to lay his head on your chest and you petting his hair

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He would love to settle down and stay away from all the violence and drama. He absolutely loves cooking and showing you all the food that piglins make in the nether which tastes suprisingly very good.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's very scared to show emotions thinking that he's showing weakness when he does. To protect himself he'll try his best to make it seem as emotionless and uncaring as possible to avoid letting you see how much this is actually hurting him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I feel like he's not the type to get married because he doesn't have any connections to marriage. For piglins it's more common to gift their fiancés gold jewellery and crowns instead of marriage.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's very gentle with you physically making sure to not hurt you because he's naturally stronger cause he's a piglin.

He's not afraid to tell you if you're doing something he doesn't like tho so he's not that gentle emotionally.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

As i've said before this man doesn't even realise how touchstarved he is until you give him a hug. Slowly he's starting to initiate more hugs himself. Will hold you tight and lay his head on your head/shoulder.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I feel like it would take him a long time to say that he loves you because of his trust and commitment issues. But when he says it tho he does mean it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

It depends on who you're hanging out with. If you're just hanginf out with Ranboo or Phil he doesn't really care and is happy that you're having fun with his friends. If you're hanging out with someone else tho he'll get jealous. Even worse if it's with one of his enemies.

When he's jealous at first he'll just be kinda annoyed and not say anything. If you keep hanging out with other people tho he'll start to get needy and become more clingy making up excuses that you have to leave for some reason.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are very soft in fear of hurting you but that doesn’t mean they’re boring. You can feel his emotions flowing into the kiss making you feel like you’re loosing your breath.

I feel like he likes kissing you on the top of your hand while looking you in the eyes. When he feels like teasing you he’ll kiss you at the corner of your mouth making you pout because he didn’t give you a serious kiss

He really likes it when you kiss him on the tip of his nose and no i will not explain why.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I- i think we know his relationship with children.

But in all seriousness at first he’s a little awkward around children and says he doesn’t really like them. It’s like when men say they don’t like cats but then their girlfriend gets them a cat and they realize how adorable they can be sometimes. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s definitely not a morning person. Wakes up before you tho and likes to watch you sleep (not in a creepy way) because of how calm you look in his arms. Honestly just wants to keep holding you in his arms making sure you’re safe. When he goes down to make breakfast and you don’t wanna get up he wraps his cape around you to keep you warm and because he knows its smell reminds you of him.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He honestly kinda lost his sleep schedule after not living with Phil anymore and got back to just sleeping when he feels like it. He’s still used to this because he of growing up in the nether where day and night pretty much didn’t exist.

So if he’s not feeling like sleeping but you still want him to be near you at night he’ll stay with you cuddling until you fall asleep and give you his cape as a blanket.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I’ve already mentioned his trust issues so it’ll take him a long time to reveal things about him in fear of you breaking his trust. Also wouldn’t tell you everything once. He would do it more slowly probably starting with the fact that he hears voices. Please be patient with him he’s trying his best.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It takes him a lot to get really angry because he knows he can kinda loose himself when he’s angry. So he’ll try his best to avoid getting angry around you in fear of accidentally hurting you.

But something where he definitely wouldn’t be able to hold back his anger is someone hurting you. We have seen how protective he is over the people he likes so when someone hurts you all hell would break loose and canon lifes would be lost.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He would remember a lot about you. Your favorite type of flower, your favorite childhood memory, your favorite weapon to use in combat. Can he remember where he put his glasses tho? Definitely not.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It was in the middle of the night when he stepped into his house smiling at the warmth surrounding him. Looking at the fireplace he saw a figure sitting in the brown armchair in front of it. Taking off his cape and crown he out them onto the table telling himself he’s gonna put them away tomorrow. Slowly walking in front of the fireplace he chuckled at seeing his fiance looking so calm and cute while sleeping. Taking off his boots he put them near the fire to make sure that they’re dry tomorrow.

Carefully he put on of his arms under your knees and the other at your back picking you up into his arm and holding you close to his chest. Making his way up the stairs he looked down at you an immediate happiness overcoming him.

Now standing next to his bed he slowly laid you down on the mattress. Crawling in next to you he laid down behind you and gently wrapped his arms around you. The last thing he heard was an “I love you.” coming from his partner making a smile appear on his lip before he fell into the land of dreams.

(This ended up being a oneshot oop anyway)

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s a very protective person in general going as far as gifting people totems and fighting against at least 10 people alone to protect the people he cares about.

Also doesn’t back down from protecting you with words for example when someone is being a dick to you and he knows you’re scared when he’s violent he’ll defend you with words completely destroying the other persons ego.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts a lot of effort into gifts and such because they mean a lot to him. Also puts a lot of effort into the food he cooks for you and always makes sure they taste and look amazing.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He will often distance himself from you for example if the voices get really bad. Also sometimes doubts if you still love him and aren’t only with him because you see him as a weapon like the others do which leads to him distancing himself from you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He isn’t very concerned with his looks because of growing up in the nether where no mob cares about how someone looks. What he does care about though is his long pink hair always keeping it in a braid to prevent it from getting damaged too much while fighting. He is more used to caring about strength and muscles.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He is very much used to living alone so if you’re only gone for some time he is pretty much fine. If he doesn’t see you for longer though he’ll start to miss you. He’ll start to miss you braiding his hair. He’ll start to miss you cuddling up to him while sitting in his lap. He’ll start to miss training for fun with you. So overall yes he would feel incomplete without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He actually really likes getting pet especially at his ears. You found that out when he was laying with his head in your lap reading a book. You started petting him which started to make him sleepy. But when your hand scratched him behind his ears a blush appeared on his cheeks hearing himself starting to purr.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He is pretty much okay with everything because of growing up with two completely different brothers but one thing he wouldn’t like is a partner that doesn’t respect his privacy and that he sometimes needs time for himself.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

You know how cats or dogs sometimes twitch in their sleep because they dream of hunting? He does that too. Also when he’s cuddling with you while sleeping will tighten his grip on you.

Masterlist

[fundy-simp]

Technoblade/GN!Reader - Messy Confessions [2700 words]

Fluff! Sick fic, kinda! After fleeing the DreamSMP mainland due to stress you find yourself in the snow biome that an old friend of yours lives in. You’re not sure how you know where he lives or how he’ll respond to you just appearing at his house in clothes definitely not suited for the tundra, but you suck it up and ask him for help anyways.

This is a c!Techno fic where he’s a piglin shapeshifter. You and Techno had known each other back in the Pogtopia days but there was a large break in communication while he moved bases and you got swept up in other things, but of course you had to meet again. Might make a part two of this honestly but I’m not super sure, so if you want one let me know! As always if anything about this makes you uncomfortable feel free to scroll past :)

You barely knew where you were going when you jumped into nether, following down the rickety one meter wooden path before it tapers into a 3 meter cobblestone and obsidian path. You needed out of the mainland, it was all too much. It felt like there was a rift- and a weird demonic egg- in between everyone, you felt alone, lost, so fuckin’ tired. Without thinking you jumped through the portal at the end, your body tensed to a complete halt as you bore the brunt of going from the nether to the tundra.

Gritting your teeth you pushed through it, stomping through the snow as the freezing wind felt like it was seeping into your bones. You seriously need to not impulsively decide to run off into the middle of nowhere in just your everyday wear. It wouldn’t have been as much as a problem if the snow didn’t get deeper as you walked, going over the edge of your netherite boots and into them. Quickly, you’re approaching the point where the coldness that felt like you’ll know till you're in the ground was vastly out weighing you panic from earlier.

In a haze you look around you, passing over an iced lake you can vaguely see footprints in the snow. Carefully you follow them as you huddle in on yourself, your fingers and nose were going numb as you made your way over a particularly steep hill. A curse left your lips as you tripped down the other side, as soon as you had your bearings you shot up, looking around to see where you were. Squinting, you could barely make out a house through the snow, a hope you hadn’t even noticed you’d lost flares in your chest as you marched towards it.

By the time you had made it to the cozy cabin you couldn’t feel your hands at all, you hesitated for a bit on the porch, you don’t even know who lives here, what if they’re not home? After meandering way, way longer than someone who was under the immediate threat of hypothermia, you finally knocked on the door, pain shocked through your arm, who knows if that’s a good or bad thing.

You hunch in on yourself as you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and after a few seconds it swung open to reveal a very distraught, or at least distraught for him, Techno, a sword drawn in your direction as he looked at you with dull eyes. Well that answers your question from earlier. Involuntarily you shivered, whether it was because the heat of the house made you realize just how cold it was or if it was the harsh gaze of the definitely over seven foot tall piglin, you couldn’t tell.

He looked at you for a second before sighing, “C’mon, y/n.” he said quietly as he put his sword up by the door and stepped aside. Carefully you stepped in, your eyes scanning over the cluttered living room as your body tried to get used to the warmth. You rubbed your hands together as you looked over to the fire place, almost jumping out of your skin when you realize that there’s a fucking polar bear laying there. Techno let out a quiet chuckle, it slipped into his words as he spoke, “Oh, don’t mind Steve, he’s a big cuddle bug.”

You nervously chuckled along, why was this the first place you thought to go? You haven’t talked to Techno in months and that little crush you had on him back in the Pogtopia days did not let up like you thought. “What brings you here?” he asked, he talked like the two of you didn’t just mutually ghost each other for half a year.

Swallowing thickly you shrug, fidgeting with your fingers for a second before being reminded of how it hurts to move them, “Oh. I- I just. I just missed you, ya know?” You replied quietly, nothing in your voice was convincing as you avoided eye contact.

You could feel him raise a brow at you, “So you planned to come see me and made the choice to wear nothin’ for the cold weather?” He asked, you could hear shuffling as you focused your eyes squarely on the wooden floor.

“O-Oh well, you know how dumb I can be!” You said through a forced chuckle, shivering as you rubbed your hands up and down your arms. “Yup, just poor planning! Noth- Nothin- '' You stopped for a second, making a face as you brought the crook of your elbow to your face and sneezed, then again, then one more time before pulling your arm away. “Christ- One moment.” You wiped at your slightly teary eyes as you sneezed two more times.

A heavy cloak was placed on your shoulders, when did Techno get behind you? “This is what you get y/n, go chill out with Steve for a moment.” He said, his voice was soft, you’d almost argue there was a twinge of worry in it as he ran his large hands up and down your biceps for a few seconds, trying to warm you up just a little more before he shooed you towards Steve. “You’re really bad at lyin’, you know that right?” he mostly mumbled as he disappeared up the ladder.

Sighing, you pulled Techno’s cloak closer to your body as you sat down next to Steve, he was down right massive next to you, it made you slightly nervous as you tried not to disturb him. After a few seconds the polar bear lazily lifted his head from the ground, looking at you before sniffing your, or well, Techno’s cloak. You never thought you would ever be able say you’ve seen a polar bear ponder something, but this one definitely did for a few seconds. When he came to whatever conclusion he did, he shuffled over to you and nuzzled into you as he placed his head in your lap.

You tensed for a second, this polar bear is acting like a giant puppy dog, literally nothing in your life could ever prepare you for anything like this. After a few very scared moments you sighed, you’re far too tired to really bother questioning anything so you leaned down, resting your head on the bear’s soft fur as your eyes flutter shut.  

You woke up only god knows how long later, head pounding as you felt someone pick you up, “Hello?” you asked quietly, opening your eyes only to squint at how even the low light in the room made your head spin.

You could feel who was holding you physically stutter for a second before replying, “Ah, sorry y/n, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Oh yeah, you’re at Techno’s. Forgot about that... His voice was a whisper as he spoke, as if he could tell you weren’t feeling well, “Don’t worry everythin’ is okay, just didn’t want you sleepin’ on the floor.” He said as he held you with one arm, using the other to pull you both up the ladder and into what you could assume was his room. It was dark, lit by one lantern by the ladder that was slowly dying, books were splayed out across the floor and desk. If your head was throbbing any less you would have teased him for it, how it reminded you of the days back in Pogtopia.

Carefully he stepped over the books and general clutter as he carried you over to the bed and laid you down, you made a face at him as he pulled the blanket over you, “This isn’t normal for you.” You whisper at him, wincing slightly at how your seemingly growing migraine reacted to you talking.

Techno let out a slight chuckle as he crouched down next to the bed, “And it ain’t normal for you to just appear at my home freezin’, most likely sick, and definitely panickin’ about somethin’, so I think we’re even.” he said softly, you opened your mouth to argue but he quickly shushed you, bringing his hand up to your hair to mess with it, “You are far too tired to argue with me right now, after you sleep and are feelin’ better, we’ll talk.”

Grumbling you listen, pulling the blanket around you as you force yourself to relax. His touch was soft but still it managed to make your migraine flare up, as much as it hurt you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. You scrunch your eyes shut, trying to magically wish the pain away so you didn’t have to tell him to stop, instead though it just alerted him of your pain. Slowly he detangled his fingers from your hair and softly placed a kiss on your forehead, or the best he could in his piglin form, which was more of a boop from his snout. You opened your eyes just in time to barely see his flustered face in the dark, how he avoided eye contact even in the darkness was cute. That look on his face was seemingly burned into your mind as you curled into his sheets, drifting off into a only slightly fitful slumber.

When you woke up you were pleasantly surprised by the fact that the migraine had gotten better, now just a dull pain behind your eyes instead of a stabbing pain everywhere. You try to sit up but the moment you lift your head vertigo hits you like a brick, making you plop back down in defeat. You vaguely debate calling Techno’s name to get his attention, but before the thought could even really form you wave it off. You quietly groaned as you tried to sink further into the sheets, they still smelled like Techno which made you blush a little. “Phil- Phil! You don’t understand! I- I. I wasn’t built to feel like this!” you were immediately pulled out of your thoughts by Techno’s voice, he sounded worried.

You hear someone else laugh, it’s Phil, “Mate, stop stressing. It’s not that big of a deal.” There's shuffling downstairs followed by the sound of opening and closing of multiple chests.

Techno sputters, it wasn’t common for him to verbally stutter when he didn’t know what to say, normally he’d just stay quiet so whatever they were talking about must have had him thoroughly wracked. “No, listen. Phil. I kissed their forehead last night!” Your heart suddenly jumped into your throat, ‘they’re talking about you.’ is the only thought in your mind. “Like some sappy nerd! And I told them I’d talk about feelin’s when they got up!” he stopped for a second, you couldn’t help but giggle at him as you heard him groan, “What is wrong with me, Phil?” he asked, it was much quieter, his voice filled with genuine worry. You felt an odd pang of guilt in the bottom of your gut, your brain trying to twist everything into something that could be your fault.

There were some light jingles in the silence before a myriad of more filled it, it was probably Phil stretching his wings, “You’re not gonna like this Techno, but.” there was another tense silence, it made your throat dry as you realize how hot it is under all these blankets, “... You’ve got a crush, mate.” he said plainly.

“HEH??” Techno basically yelled, you almost fell out of the bed with how hard you jumped, swinging your arm out onto the bedside table to stop yourself, knocking a book down in the process. The entire house went silent, not even the multiple animals in the house made a noise as you buried yourself under the blanket. There were step foots before the telltale creak of a ladder being used filled your ears, you’re going to pass out in the worst way possible. Your head filled with worst case scenarios within seconds, Techno knows you were listening to their conversation, he’s going to hate you, he’s going to kick you out to die.

Your thoughts spiral as you grip tighter to the blanket, the migraine came back as you fought off nausea. Two large hands carefully grab the blanket, pulling it away from you despite you fighting against it, when you reluctantly look over at Techno you see him crouched down next to you like last night, this time though it's his human form. You don’t think you’ve ever seen it, at least never this close, his bright emerald green eyes contrasted against the soft pink of his long, braided hair. He cleared his throat as you quickly looked away, “How much of that did you- uh. Did you hear, exactly?” he asked, not an ounce of anger or accusation in his voice, if anything he seemed scared.

Fiddling with the blanket, you struggled to come up with a reply. You could lie, saving his dignity and leave yourself to pine for him till he figures it out better, or you could just tell the truth, saving your heart and poor lying skills. You swallowed thickly as you looked down at your hands, “Well, you see. I. Hhhn. How do I say this?” You mostly asked yourself, you could see him already come to what you're going to say, his face going a dark red, but he doesn’t interrupt you. “I, uh, I heard all of it, I’m so sorry for eavesdropping. I woke up right before you guys got home and by the time I realized how personal the conversation was it would have been too awkward to do something.” you accidentally rambled, your face going a similar shade of red as his.

Techno sighed as he pulled one of his hands away from the blanket to scratch the back of his neck, “Ah… Shit.” he says quietly, you looked at him with wide eyes, the fear of him being mad at you boiling backup before he talks again, “Not- Not in a negative way!” He corrected himself quickly, smiling a little when he sees you visibly relax, “It’s just a little… Unfortunate for your crush to learn that you like them at the same time you realized it, that's all.” he said, or more mumbled, his hand on the blanket slowly gravitated towards one of your’s, whether that was purposeful or not it was really cute.

You nodded slightly, giggling a little at just everything that’s happened, “Well. If it makes it any easier,” you looked over at him as you set a shaking hand on his, “I’ve had a crush on you for a long while now.” you whispered, watching his face soften as he processed it.

“You’re gonna kill me. I’m not built for this, good god.” He said, a slight whine to his voice as he dropped his face down onto the bed. You let out a loud, genuine laugh at his actions before wincing, you’d almost forgotten about that damn migraine, “Oh yeah, you’re still sick.” he said quickly as he sat up, “Do you want some soup? Phil’s here, he makes really good mushroom stew, it was my favorite when I was younger.”

You giggle a little at his panic before nodding, “Yeah, that’d be nice.” you said, moving your hand on his before pulling it up to your lips and kissing it. “Thank you, Techno.” you let go of his hand as you watched him short circuit for a second.

Once he recovered he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, much more of a proper kiss than last night. “Of course, y/n.” he replied as he stood up and walked to the ladder. Once he’s down you buried your head back under the blanket, both out of embarrassment and to get away from the harsh sun falling into the room.

You couldn’t help but smile when you hear Phil from downstairs laugh, “See! I told you everything would be fine! You really worry way too much, Techno.” you had to agree. You have no idea what Techno and you even are right now, but you were ready to stumble through it with him till you’re both ready to talk about it.

[lin-nin]

A Mother’s Love & Grief

Ship: SurrogateMother!Reader x SurrogateSon!Wilbur, Philza x Reader

Plot: Wars were never fun, and you hated them. Especially when they involved the sons of your friend.

Disclaimer: Dream SMP Spoilers up to the Manberg vs Pogtopia War, some depictions of violence! Currently a one-shot, but if interest is high I could see myself doing more.

---

You had always been there, lingering the edges and watching. Carefully watching as Wilbur and Tommy got up to their shenanigans. It was the least you could do for Philza. Watching his boys was easy, originally. It had started out simple, even as they raised the walls of L'Manberg. You were proud of them then, even as they fought for their independence. You had felt a fierce pride on how they had grown, regardless of their reasons.

The pain you had felt the day of the first revolution matched your pride. It had hurt seeing them get hurt the way they had, but you were powerless to stop them. There was a leverage over you because of them that you couldn't risk actively picking sides. So you watched, though you made sure to tell them you were proud of them once it all ended. You even promised Wilbur to tell Philza what a good job the two of them had to done. He had always wanted the approval of his father, and creating a country for freedom surely was a reason to be proud.

As L'Manberg grew, you settled within the walls, celebrating happily with the boys as they did. It was with pride you had watched the election, rooting for them to win. It was what they clearly wanted. The pride could only turn to horror as they were exiled, though. You had frantically shoved Tommy away, acutely aware of how dire it was that he get out safe. You had sacrificed yourself that night, an arrow through the neck draining you. A shot meant for Tommy. You couldn't do the same for Wilbur, helplessly watching as he was shot down by Punz. You couldn’t even cry out for him when you had seen the shot coming.

Everything had changed that day. You had carefully snuck off to their exile, forcing Technoblade to promise to watch them and take care of them. They were Philza’s boys, and he at least owed his friend that. You kept to Manberg then, sneaking out periodically to offer up information when you could. It wasn't until just before the festival when Tommy had come to you, desperate for help.

"It's Wilbur! He's gone- He's gone mad! He wants to blow up L'Manberg, he thinks it'll fix it. You have to tell him, tell him it's wrong. He won't listen to me. Please," The youngest had begged you, and you had relented without a second thought. Wilbur looked mad when you had walked into Pogtopia, his hair a mess. You hadn't seen him since the banishment.

"Wilbur…" You murmured cautiously, causing him to spin towards you.

"Did Tommy tell you? What do you think?" He asked, a grin on his face. An unstable grin. You needed to proceed cautiously, and you knew that.

"I think… it's impressive, but surely there's another way, isn't there?" 

"If there's no L'Manberg to rule, wouldn't that be better? No more Schlatt, no more presidency, no more Dream breathing down our necks. Its perfect!" He seemed eager, and it made your heart pang.

"If there's no L'Manberg, you, me, Tommy and Tubbo all lost lives for nothing. Tommy would have given up his discs for nothing. Were all of the sacrifices pointless?" You kept your voice level, trying not to be cynical towards him. One thing could set him off.

"You died for Tommy! I'm proud of him for his growth but L'Manberg has only caused problems. Wouldn’t Phil be proud?" The words had stunned you then.

"Would Phil be proud? You're planning to blow up an entire country because you rightfully lost, Wilbur! Why would he be proud?" You had gestured around the pair of you, words clearly upsetting the brunette.

"Because I'm doing what's right! Who gives a damn if it makes me the bad guy?" Wilbur flung his hands up, scowling at you.

"You can solve this without blowing up a country, without being a terrorist! You aren't doing the right thing!" You had been fed up and frustrated, deeming to Tommy that there was clearly no reasoning with Wilbur. He was beyond that point. You could see it in his eyes.

The festival had caused more pain. It seemed like that's all it had brought. Tubbo died at the hands of Technoblade that day, the shot only spurring you more. What the hell had this country done? When the war came you kept to yourself. The second revolution was rough, but you truly wanted no part of it. It was for a country you were having your doubts for, but at least it was in tact. You may not care much for it, but the others did so you didn't care.

It was only when the victory cheers rallied that you cared to look, smiling almost fondly at the boys as they gave their speeches. It was messy and unpolished, but their pride and joy was immeasurable. They had succeeded in something they cared about for the second time.

Peace never seemed to stay with L'Manberg though. No sooner than victory was declared, fighting broke out again. You cried out as Techno fired at your boys, doing everything you could to protect it. That's when you heard it, the hissing of bombs. You hardly had time to react, watching as the ground beneath everyone shattered, erupting into a rain of wood and Earth. It was chaos, and you frantically searched for Wilbur. You didn't care that he had done this- please just let him be okay.

He was stood in a cave across one of the craters. With Philza. The man looked torn, and you could only stand and watch. It felt like slow motion as Wilbur shoved the sword into his father's hands. Philza’s wings flexed, frustrated as he yelled. You couldn't make out the words, everything ringing around you from the explosion. The sword was pointed towards Wilbur’s chest, the tip threatening to impale him. And then it did, and you weren’t sure if Wilbur had pushed himself onto it or if Philza had done it himself.

You were vaguely aware of the screaming. Your own screaming, to be exact, as tears streamed down your face. Wilbur was gone. The last life he had, taken in the name of a country that had done him wrong. You don't remember who moved you from the chaos of the battle. It became a blur in your shock and grief.

Days had passed and you sat in a house that had been built for you. You believed Tubbo had built it, simply saying that you deserved it. The grief had shocked you numb, the moments replaying through your head every time your eyes closed. Philza eventually visited, the visitations often quiet. Much of the time was spent with him making sure you were taken care of. As time passed, you opened up more, you recovered. The wound sort of healed. Enough for you to speak to Philza of his sons and what they had gotten up to in his absence.

As you recounted stories, you often found yourself pressed to his side, a dark wing draped around you. Sometimes he even managed to get you out of the house, walking around the lake they'd put in the explosion craters. Sometimes you would stare down at the water, watching the fish dance beneath the surface. Like they'd always belonged there.

It was all fine, until the day you met Ghostbur. The ghost had floated in behind Philza one day, chatting happily in a voice that only seemed reminiscent of Wilbur. He had introduced himself, recounting a few memories. That Wilbur had always cared deeply for you, and that he knew you had always done the same and looked out for him. He only seemed to remember the fond memories, and part of it hurt. He was Wilbur. Yet he wasn't. An echo of the boy you watched grow.

It had been silent as you sat there, even after Ghostbur left. Philza didn't follow, simply settling beside you. A wing wrapped around you, safely tucking you into his side. The sun was setting when he finally broke the silence. "I know," he mumbled quietly. As if anything louder would have been too much. "I miss him too."

"Everyday?" You whispered, voice thick with sadness. You looked up to him, desperate for reassurance. That this was normal, that you weren't alone.

"Everyday. It's hard. I always wonder if I could have stopped him." He stared wistfully out the window, and you released a shuddering breath.

"I do too. I tried. Not hard enough. Maybe I should have stopped him from even creating L'Manberg. All that it has brought is pain. So many people died for it. Our boys-" You choked as you spoke, the words spilling out with no restraint. "We lost him. I lost him. I loved him, Phil. He was like my own son, and watching him die-"

It was the first time you broke. The first time you spilled and acknowledged everything like this. Phil had shifted, moving to tug you into his lap. To hold you tight, both wings cocooning you there. You clung to him without a second thought, face burying into his neck as you sobbed.

"Everytime I close my eyes I see it- his body just- it hurts, and I couldn't stop it. I couldn’t save him, I couldn't save my boy," Your voice raised with your hysteria, and Phil rubbed your back.

"It isn't your fault. I don't know if either of us could have saved him. It's okay to grieve him, but don't let it eat you alive." His cheek rested against your head, and you hiccuped softly. He held onto you tight, the moment feeling horribly somber. You had finally broken after months of barely living.

"Ghostbur isn't the same. He's not our Wilbur," you whispered after your crying had slowed.

"No, he's not. He tries, though. He's got the best intentions with what he can remember. He wanted to see you right away but we wouldn't let him. He said Wilbur always thought of you as a mother." His voice was soft. Tender. You took a shaking breath, sitting up some more so you could look at Phil.

"How much does he remember?" You questioned, leaning into the hand that came to cup your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he wiped at the tear tracks with his thumb, trying to make sure you were okay.

"The trauma is gone, for the most part. He seems to only remember the good." He explained, and you nodded. You were somewhat glad for that. You weren't sure you could handle it if he remembered every detail of his demise.

"Was I a good mother?" Your voice was meek as you questioned Phil, reaching up to cradle his hand. His gaze softened at the action, moving to hold your hand instead.

"Given the circumstances, I'd say you weren’t bad. You tried your best to protect them. Tommy told me about the exile. That there is enough to rule you a decent mother." He ran one of his knuckles against the scar on your neck.

"I didn't even think about it when I did it," You leaned forward, settling your head on his shoulder.

"You don't need to, as a parent. It's instinct. Just remember the other two are still alive, I think they could use you." You nodded, closing your eyes. "Try and actually talk to Ghostbur soon, too. It'd make him happy." You only nodded again, the emotional exhaustion wearing on you. Phil pressed a ghost of a kiss to your temple, before settling his head atop yours. You weren't sure when you lost consciousness, only aware of the warmth and closure in your heart.

[calehenituseappreciation]

I had the idea of Tommy’s clothes getting ripped not because he’s shit at surviving but because Dream ripped them each time he stabbed and slowly gave up fixing it until his first day of raccoon arc.

"Put your Armour in the hole tommy," Dream's masked face demanded the teen.

Tommy, being a stubborn teen, immediately refused, "No way! I worked for this armour myself! I earned it!" 

 Dream gripped the hilt of his axe, "The armour." 

"No" Tommy said, holding onto the side of the metal. 

Dream pressed his axe into Tommy's chest, not deep enough to wound but it still hurt. 

 "Okay, okay here!" Tommy shrieked, trying to take off the ruined armor as fast as he could. 

Dream smiled and blew it up. 

Tommy sighed as he watched his hard earned stuff turn into rubble. 

He looked down at his chest. Dream didn't hit hard enough to leave a wound, but it did rip his shirt. He'd have to fix that later. 

"Now what do you want to do?" Dream asked, turning around, sounding far too cheerful for someone who destroyed tommy's stuff, in tommy's humble opinion.

Tommy sat on his bed in his Trent tent. Dream had left Tommy an hour or a half ago. He was all alone so it was a good time to fix his shirt. 

Tommy hissed as he pricked his hand with the sliver of iron he sharpened to use as a needle. Blood fell out of the wound and  onto the shirt he was fixing. 

"Damn it," Tommy hissed, grabbing some makeshift bandaids he made for himself. 

He wasn't great at sewing. Usually Tubbo or Wilbur helped him with this, seeing as he kept accidently hurting himself whenever he tried. But now Tubbo is gone. And Wilbur is dead. 

At least after he fixed it he wouldn't have to do it again? 

Tommy had to do it again. 

Multiple days in a row. 

Everytime he thought he'd finally gotten over the dreaded sewing it came back to bite him. 

Tommy looked at the numerous bandages covering his hands and looked at the holes in his shirt. 

Tommy liked that Dream was visiting everyday. Everyday. 

Tommy didn't want to sew anymore. 

Tommy looked at the needle he made to fix his clothes. 

What is the point if he'd have to do it again anyways? No one cared anyway.

Tommy hadn't really thought about his clothes for a long time after that.

He was cold. 

He felt the cruel cold wind through the holes of his clothes, he leaned against the railing of his brothers house, snow falling fast.

Tommy blinked the snowflakes out of his eyelashes and smiled.

He was cold but he was free. 

For the first time in a long time Tommy felt free.

"Where am I going to build a base," Tommy murmured, staring at the snow covered expanse, when he got the greatest of ideas and grinned.

Dream would never think of this. 

He was free. 

Tommy ended up fixing his clothes in his new base that night. 

Dream couldn't hurt him. 

"What are you doing here," Techno asked the next day, annoyed, but unsurprised, at the sudden appearance of his little brother. 

"What are you doing here?" Tommy rebutted.

"I LIVE HERE," Techno said exasperation and confusion clear as day in his usually monotone voice.

"We'll you're in my room" Tommy said, purposely annoying

"THIS IS MY HOUSE," Techno exclaimed, exasperated. 

"We'll its my room" Tommy said, his point was great, theres no way Techno could refute it.

"Explain. Now," Techno said angrily.

Tommy barely concealed a flinch at the tone of voice. 

"Well you see- I need my disks," Tommy fidgeted

Techno looked no less confused, "That explains nothing" 

Tommy would disagree, he thinks its a perfect explantion.

"Why are you hiding under my house. Like a raccoon," Techno stared at his younger brother.

Techno didn't take out a weapon, but didn't mean much to the teen, Techno could still hurt him if he wanted.

"HEY! theres nothing wrong with being a raccoon," Tommy huffed. 

"Is this my stuff?" Techno said, looking through the chests.

Tommy had stolen Techno's things hes mad, Tommy's gonna lose everything again. 

But then he didn’t.

By the end of the night Techno didn't blow up at him? Or even take back his own things?? he let tommy keep them??? And didn't hurt him?? Unless he had armour on?? And none of his clothes got ripped???

That night Tommy didn't need to fix his clothes again??

He's so confused.  

Tommy had been living in Techno's house for a while now. 

Tommy had taken off his armor for a second when a skeleton shot him. 

It only grazed him but it ruined his shirt. It got blood on his shirt, and it ripped. Again. why do his clothes rip so easily. 

Tommy walked backed back into their house. 

Techno was reading a book with his glasses on, his pink hair was in a ponytail. 

It was almost like before he left their home to go to Dream smp to begin with.

Especially the bleeding when being left alone for a second. 

"Did you get hurt?" Techno asked not looking up from his book. 

Tommy swears he can like smell blood or something. He bets he's reading a book about like greek. 

"Yeah," Tommy said, Techno finally looked up seeing Tommy's ripped clothes.

"You look like you got hit by a truck," Techno said, putting his book down. 

"My shirt has one rip in it" Tommy rolled his eyes, eating a gapple, the gapple would heal the wound so at least there wouldn't be anymore blood. 

"Yeah and the rest of it looks like a quilt with how patched up it is" Techno said gesturing to blonde teen. 

Tommy huffed, "It's not my fault I don't have any good clothes." 

"We'll I can't just let my allies look dumb can I? Here follow me," Techno said, Tommy looked at him in confusion but followed the older. 

Techno opened a chest and took out an untouched uniform, it was in the Antarctic blue coulor Phil and Techno were often found in. 

"It looks pretty," Tommy said staring at the silver and blue in his arms, "I'm gonna change into this" 

"Okay," Techno said, he had a small smile on his face. 

Tommy smiled, hey at least he doesn't have to fix his shirt. 

[baby-n-boo]

Not Alone- kid!wilbur, older kid!techno, very little kid!tommy, even smaller kid!tubbo, dad!za.

The sun rose bright and warm on the small cottage in the forest, shining familiarly through the thin curtains to wake the thirteen-year-old splayed across his bed, legs tangled in the blue, sheep printed sheets that were a little too small for the bed itself. He groaned, and rolled over, almost falling off the bed as he moved, it being far too early to be awake, especially on a lazy day such as this one. It wasn’t like he had anything to do, no school, no sparring practice, not even any chores. A perfect day to stay in bed until the sun went away again.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t afforded that luxury, as his door was thrown open, slamming against the wall as it swung, and the cool dawn breeze washed over his exposed skin, ruffling his hair gently. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” an excitable voice squeaked, before a weight threw itself at the bed, making it bounce wildly. Coughing, with a breathless “oof”, he couldn’t help but open his eyes now, to see the almost-vibrating form of his younger brother, a grin splitting his face almost in half. “oh, hey Will.” he muttered, wearily, and reaching for his glasses. “What’s, uh...what's up?” Fighting back a yawn, sure he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep now the kid had invaded.

Wilbur bounced again, his hands flapping excitedly, as he grinned. “It’s my birfday! Happy birfday to me, happy birfday to me!” he squeaked, starting to sing as he slid back off the bed and started spinning in circles while singing. “Techy! Sing with me!” he gasped, holding his hands out towards his brother eagerly, making it hard for the teen to refuse, as he smiled weakly. “I’m getting up, don’t worry.” Techno assured, as he slithered reluctantly out of bed, pulling on the first shirt to reach his hands- one of Phil’s donated pieces- and took Wilbur’s quivering hand. “Yeah, uh...” he started, not really singing, though the nine-year-old didn’t seem to mind. “Ha-Happy Birthday, I guess?” he sounded tentative, like he hadnt quite done it right.

“Yay! Thank You!” Will’s grin only got bigger, showing the gap where his front tooth used to be, as he dragged Techno towards the bedroom door. “Cummon, Techy! Everyone else ‘s already up! Dad sent me to come get youuuuu.” He couldn’t stop talking, excitement flowing through his very veins, at the very premise of a birthday. Techno didn’t quite understand what was so important about it, or what significance it held, especially if it meant waking up so ridiculously early on a summer morning. Still, he muffled his groan as the sunlight streaming through the front windows hit his eyes, trying his hardest to smile encouragingly whenever the kid looked back to him. Even as his head pounded and his broken glasses dug into the bridge of his nose.

Seeing the rest of the group sat about the coffee table, which had been piled high with presents, Techno couldn’t help but wrap his free arm about his chest, as it ached. Tommy was bouncing almost as much as WIlbur, holding a small, sloppily wrapped bundle tight in his lap, like it was precious, whilst Tubbo, the youngest of the boys, was sat, wedged right up against the edge of the couch, nervously gripping Phil’s sleeve as he saw the eldest be dragged in. Phil, himself, had taken a comfortable seat right in the centre of the couch, a sheepish smile on his face as he saw Techno’s bewildered face. “Hey Will? I don’t think he wants to be pulled everywhere?” Phil drew the boy's attention, chuckling slightly as Wilbur rushed an apology, stumbling over the words, and threw himself into the dining chair that had been hastily decorated with some balloons, to signify a birthday boy’s throne.

Trying to clear up the misunderstanding, Techno held up a hand, ignoring how the too-big sleeve flopped over his fingers, and muttered his own apology. “No, really, it’s my fault, I...i wasn’t going fast enough. It’s fine.” The words fell on deaf ears, however, as Phil smiled apologetically for Will’s behaviour, beckoning the eldest of the four over to sit with him. Instead, he elected to sink down, crosslegged onto the floor, leaning awkwardly against an armchair, and hugged his knees to his chest to hide the way it was aching. It wasn’t like it was a new position, he liked to sit on the floor, and Phil had stopped questioning it now, sure he would sit on chairs when he wanted to, but, especially today, he could enjoy the fact the spotlight was as far away from on him as it could possibly be.

Subtly combing his fingers through his bed head, he watched through strands of unruly, candyfloss hair as Will descended like a vulture onto the pile of gifts with Phil’s blessing, surfacing with the biggest one. He looked to the fatherly figure for approval, and, after he received a nod, dug all ten of his fingers into the thin wrapping at the same time, yanking to open it in only the way a nine-year-old really could. Shreds of paper went everywhere, Tubbo giggling as a piece landed squarely on his nose, Will’s eyes racing hungrily over the bundle of brown and black that fell out. “It’s a coat like mine, I thought you might want to have one.” Phil explained, as Will unfolded it to reveal a rather less tattered trench-coat than the one Phil was speaking of, the one hung beside the door. Squealing, he held it tight to his chest, almost tripping as he ran over to Phil, and threw himself at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm gunna wear it everyday, and ill be so cool!” He promised, ignoring how Phil was laughing openly at how big it was. His hands barely even came to the elbows, the tails dragging on the floor behind him as he excitedly ran to his little brother to show him. “Look, Look, Look, Tommy! I’m so cool!” he yelled, as Tommy almost bounced right out of his seat.

“Uh-huhs! You look awesum, Wilby!” the blond grinned, his hair falling over his eyes as he nodded enthusiastically. Wilbur seemed to glow at the praise, his mind racing a million miles an hour as Tubbo nodded to back up Tommy’s point, the sun seeming to shine specifically on him in that moment. “We’re gunna have such cool adventures! Oh, Dad, Dad, Dad, can I go play? I'll be really good, promise!” Will begged, pointing to the window, through which he could see a few animals milling around, the salmon in the river playing lazily in the sun spots. Phil looked amused, shaking his head a little, as Techno stifled a snort. “Maybe later, lil siren. For now, look! You’ve still got more presents! Tommy, how about you give Will yours next?” He carefully redirected the point, relieved as Tommy gasped, and whirled round to grab the brown paper wrapped bundle from where it had fallen to the cushion during their bouncing.

Pushing the sleeves up, and suddenly looking a whole lot more mature as he did so, Wilbur accepted the gift, graciously thanking his little brother, even as the paper almost fell apart in his hands. He tried his hardest to be gentle with it, especially as Tommy watched on, sure that it was precious. And, as he finally unwrapped it from the tissue paper, and it fell into his hand, he couldn’t help but gasp. A small, hand-engraved locket had fallen into his hand, the chain thin and delicate, as it rippled between his fingers, dangling down. Cautiously opening it, Will smiled wide, faced with a picture of his dad, hand on each of his son’s shoulders, Tubbo sat in front of them, all wearing genuine smiles. That was sweet enough, to have his family staring back at him, but the other side held a picture of a pink haired pre-teen, wearing strangely formal clothes, but recognisable all the same. “Techy! Techy look!” Will smiled, rushing over to thrust it in the half-piglin's face, so he could see. The addition of his own picture in the clearly family-heirloom made Techno’s heart flutter a little, especially as he could tell it had been Phil’s experienced hand that had put it together. He replied with a sof smile, and a quiet “huh, ‘tis me, yeah. Thats pretty cool, Will.”, trying his hardest to catch Phil’s eye to send a grateful look his way, though the old man seemed to be purposefully looking away, a slight blush the onbly sign it had affected him at all.

Gently slipping the chain over his head, Will let the heavy piece rest halfway down his chest, as he headed back to the presents, not seeing how Techno’s eyes had glossed over a little at the gesture. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice as the pile slowly dwindled, more and more activities or toys or clothes spilling out of the bright paper, almost drowning the kid, at least not until a ball of paper caught the side of his head, making him zone back in. Quickly scrubbing at the tears that had, rather embrassingly, slid down his cheeks whilst he hadnt noticed, Techno turned his head towards the perpetrator of the assault, scowling slightly when he saw it had been a laughing Phil.

“That hurt.” he complained bluntly, rubbing at his pointed ear, where it had caught him, adjusting the course strands of hair he had tucked behind said ear, instead of tying it up. “Sorry, son. It’s just, we’ve been calling you for a couple minutes now.” he apologised, rubbing his neck awkwardly, especially as Techno’s eyes widened at the endearment. Before he could question it, however, Phil spoke up again. Or at least, tried to. “I was gunna-” he started, before Wilbur jumped in, having changed from his pyjamas to a loose, hempen shirt and some jeans, with, of course, his precious jacket.

“We’re gunna go play! You wanna come with us?” he enthused, pulling his boots onto the wrong feet in his excitement, and making Phil have to stoop from where he was helping Tommy with his buttons, to swap them over. “Let’s play revolution!” he continued, Tubbo following mutely but happily behind the two boys as they ran to the door, his oversized, hand-me-down green shirt flopping around as he moved. “It’s no fun with just one, two of us! Tubbo doesn’t count when we play, he’s too small.” he protested, as Techno went to shake his head, really not feeling up to playing pretend with the boys that day. He had too much to think about. Phil wasn’t having any of it, though, picking up his sunhat from the hook and calling across the room. “Come on, Tech, We’ll all go, I have to head into town to get something anyway, you can come me if you arent going to play with them.” He left no room to wriggle out, making Techno heave a sigh, and nod, slipping away to his room to change. He could hear the excited screams as Phil opened the door to let all three of the littler kids out, and the following yell to “be nice to Tubbo!” as Tommy obviously left him behind to run into the cooler woods.

It didn’t take long to slip into a light, ruffled front shirt and some black dress pants, Techno feeling more comfortable in the antique style clothes, though he couldn’t help sinking down onto his unmade bed, as his stomach ached harder. It might have been hunger, since he hadnt eaten anything since the previous night, but, hearing the faint whoops of Will as he started up one of his too-complex games, Techno knew it wasn’t anything as physical as that. No, it was much deeper.

Quietly wrapping one arm about his stomach again as he headed out, having shoved on some boots, and thrown his too-long hair into some semblance of out-his-face, he tried to paste on a sort of smile for his adoptive carer, sure he’d never hear the end of it if he showed how much he wanted to frown. He did gain a small eyebrow furrow, but, luckily, Phil had the sense not to push, instead pulling out a wide brimmed straw hat for the easily-burnt half-piglin, and passed it over. “Here, we have to go get the cake for later, I had it made specially by that baker in town.” He was reading off a scribbled grocery list, clutched in one hand as he grabbed a basket with the other, not even looking away from the writing to catch the rest of the stuff trying to tumble out of the cupboard, and shove it back in. Techno nodded quietly, knowing the one he meant, and planning how best to Not-Be-There, since it was probably the busiest store of the waterfront on a normal day, never mind today, when everyone would be seeking pies and pastries for their summer parties. He notoriously wasn’t good with crowds, though he didn’t dare tell Phil this, in case it was a nuisance, instead opting to take a peek at the list, and offer to get something else at the same time.

The sudden burst of helpfullness didn’t escape notice, but, given how much he had to get, Phil didn’t much mind, setting the teen on the job of collecting fruits, and stashed the list away in his pocket, to plot the rest of when they got there. He wasn’t sure how long his boys would be out, but he really didn’t want to keep them waiting too long if they got bored before he got back. Having pre-prepared a tray of snacks and water bottles earlier in the day, he quickly propped the door open with a foot, popping it on the low, end table just outside, for precisely that purpose, before waving a hesitant Techno through with a smile. “Out we come, then.” He joked, pulling out the key to lock the cottage door behind them both, his shoes thudding familiarly on the worn stone step, reminding Techno he wasn’t gunna be going on his own, as he shuffled awkwardly between feet.

He wasn’t used to going out without his cape about his shoulders to help hide him from the world, but even now, he could feel the sun beating down on his shoulders and back, warming him almost to discomfort, even without the thick layer of velvet. He cleared his throat, easily falling into step just behind Phil as they passed the squeaky, broken gate, and straight into the field across the road, taking the wooded path shortcut, much to the relief of the teen, not sure he could have made it all the way up the main road and back today. The rustling of the wheat, and foraging of smaller animals was all that breached the comfortable silence that settled over the two of them as they walked, having established that neither was good at small talk months ago, back when days still came and went in darkness.

They had their own minds for company, for the most part, Phil seeming to hear songs on the wind to hum along to tunelessly whenever he felt like it, and really, Techno wouldn’t have it any other way, especially as it gave him something else to focus on, other than the weird feeling he was struggling to put a name to. He may have squealed slightly as a cow wandered across their path, spooking him a little, and causing Phil to chuckle, squeezing his shoulder a little with his callused hand, but, if he had longed for the warm touch to linger a little longer, well that was between him and the trees.

Before long, the trees thinned out, bit-by-bit, interrupted by houses where they would fit, until, by some strange occurrence, they found themselves stood in the town square, like they had been there all along. Still not used to how sudden it felt, Techno spun gently to get his bearings back, before pulling on the basket. “I’ll...i’ll go to the market, if you want to go get the cake before it gets too busy?” he offered, flinching at the merchants hawking their wares at the top of their lungs only a little ways away. Phil nodded, seeing an opportunity to join the three-person queue, hurrying off with barely another word than “Meet back here”, leaving Techno stood, clutching the basket to his chest, in the middle of the path.

Luckily, most people knew Phil, and so, by extension, Techno, in this small village, shaking their heads good-naturedly as he wandered the stalls, looking for the carrots. Trying to ease the furrowed brow he always seemed to wear, they called out jokes, or offered discounts, but he mostly kept his head down, shoving the number of vegetables he needed into the basket, and holding out the money to the appropriate local merchant. Really, he needed to buy Will a gift, since he had flat-out forgotten what the day was, and he really didn’t want to give Phil a reason to put him back out on the street where he had found him.

Finding he barely had enough coins left in the small pouch Phil had handed him for a hunk of cheese, Techno sighed, dejected, sure he was going to have to pick a flower and pretend it was important, and turned to leave. His last hope was a new stall, tucked right in the corner, boasting rare and wonderful treasures he was sure would be cheap tat. Sidling up to the stall, he tried not to be intimidated by the trader keeping their head shrouded in the shadow of their green cloak, and instead, muttered “Do...Do you have anything for a handful of bronze?” like it was something to be ashamed of. The merchant gasped, pulling back the blanket that had covered their wares previously, to show a distinct lack of prices. “Anything here may be purchased for your budget.” He spoke smoothly, as if luring Techo into making a mistake.

For the most part, he had been right, it was cheap tat, painted bright colors to attract fools. But leaning up against the side of the rickety shelf, stood a gleaming wooden instrument, as if begging to be bought, as if it wanted to be played. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing it was perfect for Wilbur, no questions asked. Pointing to it, he nodded. “I want that.” he spoke bluntly, leaving no room for error, watching as the strange merchant picked up in a gloved hand, and inspected it. “Ah, yes, a wonderful choice. I am sure it will be in good hands. That will be five bronze then.” He held out the spare hand, for Techno to upend the coin purse into, watching as five scuffed, browning circles fell out. Snapping the hand shut before he could take the coins back, the strange merchant lifted the instrument over the desk to Techno, knocking back his hood in the process. “Very good.” He spoke, not seeming to notice as Techno backed away, eyes transfixed on the smiling mask he wore over his own face.

Slinging the carrying strap of the instrument over his shoulder, Techno took off running, the basket of carrots banging against his leg as he moved, only daring to look back when he got to the familiar vegetable stalls he had grown up with. The merchant was gone, only a dusty corner left where he had once been, as if it had all been imagined. Rubbing his eyes, behind the broken rims of his glasses, Techno panted, sinking down onto the bench he had been told to meet Phil back at, and tried to calm himself by rubbing his fingers up and down the thick material of the strap. It didn’t make any sense, but, shaking it off as the old man walked up with a carefully balanced patisserie box, he stood and smiled, holding up the basket. “Got ‘em.” he spoke quietly, feeling slightly better at Phil’s affirming smile of praise.

“We should hurry back, Tommy’s attention span isnt too long.” Phil chuckled, speaking fondly about his middle son, shuffling the box to a more sustainable position. “Then, cake! Which I'm sure everyone is excited for!” Techno nodded softly, watching as the baker’s daughter, Niki, ran across the square, chasing pigeons and laughing. She was only a few years younger than Will, but somehow she looked so much smaller, more innocent. He only hoped the best for her. Hoped she would grow up loved and cared for.

Pulling his attention back to the present, he saw Phil had already strated walking, hurrying to catch up with him, and walk in time. The journey was so much quicker on the way back, the path clear of wandering cows, Techno even finding some suspicious looking mushrooms he might have been able to make a soup out of, just growing at the foot of a tree. He didn’t dare pick them, knowing how many people walked their dogs through the wood, but he did make a mental note to research them in one of Phil’s many books when he got some free time.

Soon enough, they were heading back through the wheat, greeted by three tired looking kids, as they lazed about in varying levels of sleepiness on the front lawn. Laughing as Wilbur instantly perked up at the cake box, Phil ushered his boys aside, handing the heavy and cool box to Techno whilst he unlocked the door, trusting him with the responsibility. He didn’t take it back as everyone rushed in, either, letting Techno go last so he could get the box onto the dining table with minimal little kid help. It was a nice feeling, especially as Phil got everyone cleaned up and seated, giving the eldest the honor of opening the box, to reveal a white frosting covered cake, “Happy Birthday, Wilbur” piped on the top with yellow, cursive icing. Practically bouncing off the walls, Wilbur begged his dad to let him have some now, to which Phil reluctantly relented, moving to get plates and a knife to cut the cake with, with the warning they were only allowed a small slice, so they would still eat their lunch. Tommy didn’t seem particularly pleased with the news, protesting “but daaaaaad” loudly, giving Will the perfect opportunity to start talking Techno’s ear off.

“Birfdays are the bestest! I want it to be a birfday everyday! You get cake, and presents, and....and....cake!” he smiled wide, humming happily to himself as Techno offered a tight smile, the feeling only getting worse. “When is your birfday, Techy?” Will asked curiously, as Phil came back with a stack of chipped mismatched plates, and a small utensil to cut the cake with. “Yeah, actually, Tech, when /is/ your birthday? I havent seen you celebrate...” Phil chimed in, seemingly confused when Techno slumped, shaking his head a little.

“I...i,uh, don’t have one?” Techno whispered, flinching as Tommy yelled “What!” at full volume. “Everyone has birfday.” Wilbur seemed confused, especially as Techno shook his head. “Not me. I don’t know when mine is. My family never told me.” He continued, eyes flicking to Phil, who was frozen in panic-stricken thought. Wilbur nodded quietly for a moment, then leaning over a dozing Tubbo towards the cake, and smeared his finger in the icing, rubbing out his name from it, leaning back grinning with his icing coated finger in his mouth. “There. It can be today.” he spoke as if it was that easy, Techno gaping at how kind the gesture had been, his mind not caught up enough to protest, not even as Will pulled the locket from around his neck, and put it round his brother’s. “Happy birfday, Techy, from your family.”

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 15: Phil & Zoe’s Cinderella Story

Once Upon a Workout

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello, ci-ti-zens, and welcome back to Radio Lock-In. I know last time it was Radio Phil, but since Zoe’s contributing via ROFFLEnet from the kennel where she's riding out the zombie horde, this felt a bit more apt. Also less likely to end in my having to fend off an attack by a pack of trained murder cats. Not that that's something I worry about late at night or anything. [laughs]

Anyway, it's time to start your warm-ups. Running on the spot, bit of stretching, whatever floats your boat. Oh, um, and uh, grab a yoga mat or um, large towel. You're going to be needing them. Because today, Radio Lock-In has a special treat: your very own Phil and Zoe-style fairy tale, with music breaks, ministry workouts, and a few minor updates to one of Ye Olde classic tales.

Uh, why fairy tales, you may ask? Well, obviously Zoe's a fan, what with all the talking cartoon animals in the Disney versions. But um, I just find them comforting. Have done since I was a kid. They're simple. Good wins, evil is vanquished, love is eternal, and magic is real. Well, I don't know about you, but all that sounds really good right now.

So without further ado, drum roll please! [taps hands rapidly on knees and makes a cymbal crash sound with his mouth] Cinderella! Or as Zoe calls it, the one with the posh outfits and the horse mice and in need of a rewrite from someone who has a better sense of women's shoe sizes.

But before we get to that, we'll start our story the way Cinderella starts hers: cleaning while wishing she was at a ball. Grab the nearest household item you can find and dance away while I play an appropriately jaunty tune. Ready? Dance!

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wonderful! Now to catch you up, as our tale opens, everyone's looking forward to a lavish royal ball in the kingdom of... whatever it's called. But Cinderella can't go. Instead of dancing, her stepmother forces her to constantly tidy up.

I'll be honest, this sounds a lot like what I did as an excuse to get out of school discos. Well, at least until I learned a few slick dance moves from Daniel “Snake Leg” Simons. And uh, no, Zoe, I will not be showing you the patented Simons kick and slither. Luckily, Cinderella has her own snake legs: a fairy godmother who will whisk her away to the ball with some special fairy dust magic.

We'll be helping the fairy godmother out by distributing magic dust of our own with a few uppercuts! Get into a magic stance. Boxing stance, really, but we're in a story here. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, your knees slightly bent, fists up as if you're holding tight to a handful of fairy dust. Now you're ready for your magic uppercut. Rotate your body towards the arm in front and punch upwards with your back fist. Magic! Now rotate back to your starting position and you're ready for your next uppercut of magic.

I'd say it'll take about one minute to get Cinderella ready for the ball, so get to uppercutting. Start now. 15 seconds in. The dirty rags have transformed into a dress. Halfway there. The old pumpkin has become a magic carriage. Switch legs so that your other one is in front and keep the magic coming. Only 15 seconds left to go. The mice are horses now! All she needs are magic shoes! Let's turn those everyday shoes into glass slippers.

All done! Time to admire your handiwork. Feel free to keep doing magic uppercuts during this song or just twirl around as you do your own imaginary transformation.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Now fully transformed, Cinderella heads to the ball, which I'd call a glamorous spectacle of light and gold and at least four different types of hors-doeuvres, but Zoe considers to be probably pretty boring, what with all the ball gowns and lack of a proper DJ.

Yeah, I'm fairly sure our Zoe always spent a lot of her youth in roller discos and is probably holding our imaginary ball to unreasonably high standards. But in honor of her anti-ball sentiments, we'll do some wall sits, just like the bored ball-goers.

For this, you'll need a wall that you can stand in front of. Stand with your back to the wall and lean back until your back is pressed against it, but you're still standing upright. Adjust your feet so that they’re shoulder-width apart and about a step in front of the wall, then slide your back down the wall until your thighs and calves make 90 degree angles with your back, head, and backside still against the wall.

We're gonna stay like that for 60 seconds, if we can, starting now. 15 seconds in. Why Zolinda, so lovely to see you here this evening. Halfway done. I know, such a boring ball. I'm too tired to even eat these delicious cheese canapes. Just 15 seconds to go. At least the prince is looking well. Maybe he'll meet his bride tonight, who decides to turn to a parliamentary system of rule! And done.

Stand back up and shake out those legs. A mysterious stranger has just entered the ballroom. Spoiler, it's Cinderella. All right, Cinderellas, I'll play an entrance song and you can do your best glass slippered red carpet walk, or another round of wall sits if you'd like. I'm gonna have some of those imaginary canapes. They imaginary sound imaginary delicious.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And we're back. Just in time. Cinderella is now in the middle of an exciting tango with the prince, who wants to know more about her. Uh, naturally, per Zoe, they take the opportunity to have an in-depth conversation about ruling a kingdom in a way that allows for the voice of the people to be heard, gender equality, and whether avocado is a fruit, all while dipping and sashaying.

But uh, just as Cinderella is coming up with the excellent idea to test avocados’ fruitiness by putting it on toast, the clock begins to strike midnight. [a bell chimes twice] Once it hits 12 AM, all of that fairy magic will disappear, so Cinderella has to make a run for it.

That means it's time for high knees. Run in place, bringing your knees up with each step as if you're running back to your carriage before the clock strikes midnight. Let's go, starting now. 15 seconds in. You've made it out the front door of the palace, expertly dodging the guards. Halfway there. Uh, you're at the top of the longest flight of stairs ever. Head to the bottom. Only 15 seconds left to go. You've made it down the stairs, leaving a glass slipper behind in the process. That's okay, your carriage is just ahead. Made it! Now it's time to head home and pretend you've been cleaning all night. Practice looking casual yet hard-working during this next song.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We're almost to the end of our tale. It's the next day and no one suspects that Cinderella was the previous evening's it girl, the talk of the town, the belle of the, well, ball. The prince, who Zoe notes foolishly left his glasses off while dancing and therefore couldn't see the face of the woman he fell for, is searching for her by trying to fit the glass slipper on everyone he sees. Uh, according to Zoe, that is only the fifth worst way to pick a potential mate, but she says she will not reveal one through four except to say that one of them involves lime jelly and exactly 16 eels.

And with that somewhat discomforting thought, let's help our prince out with some knee folds. They're just like lifting your foot for a shoe fitting. More or less, anyway. Start by lying down on your back. Grab your yoga mat or towel to put underneath you so you've got something comfortable to lie on. Now bring your knees up so that they’re bent and the soles of your feet are flat on the floor and your toes are pointing straight forward. Your arms should be by your sides, your shoulders relaxed and chest open. [sighs] Relaxing right?

Now as you inhale, use your abdominal muscles to lift your right leg off the floor while keeping your hips against the ground. Keep your knees bent and lift your leg until your thigh is at a 90 degrees angle from your body and your lower leg is parallel with the floor. They call this table position because, well, it looks like your lower legs are the top of a table. Now exhale as you lower your leg back down to the floor. Now do the same with your left leg, and continue alternating for the next minute.

Go! These aren't meant to be fast kicks. Keep the movement slow and controlled. Imagine someone trying endless shoes on your feet. 15 seconds in, but all the feet that the glass slipper has been tried on are too wide! Keep going. Halfway through, and now the feet are too narrow! 15 seconds of feet left to try. You're almost there. Done. That's it, that's the one. You've found Cinderella! And now you deserve a break. Shoe fitting and storytelling are both hard work. I'll put on a nice cooldown song so you can stretch out your muscles from all that fairy taling.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And that's the story of a very active Cinderella. Fun! I almost forgot we were exercising. And Zoe says it went off more or less without a hitch, even if I did leave off a detailed epilogue about Cinderella teaming up with the fairy godmother to create a magical haute couture fashion line. Uh, she says half the fun of fairy tales is that they're so simple that you get to add your own spin to it, make the story your own. Works for me, as long as we still get to throw in a happily ever after. I miss those.

Anyway, let us know on ROFFLEnet if you like fairy tales as much as we do and we'll put our heads together to come up with another. Maybe... Rapunzel. [laughs] I definitely feel like I can relate to someone who spends half her life trapped in a tower and is rapidly growing a very distressing amount of hair. Whatever we do pick and however we remix it, I have to say, there's still something comforting about retelling a classic. These stories have lasted hundreds of years, through war and disease and love and zombies, and if they can keep going, so can we.

~

[dramaticlester]

hot chocolate and marshmallows

Merry Christmas!

summary: A package arrives for them and Dan doesn’t know how to help. (based off Cornelia's story of the mince pies Mrs. Lester made)

genre: fluffy angst

warnings: bittersweet, swearing

relationship; established

It was bittersweet, the day Phil told him that he couldn’t go home for Christmas. Phil loved Dan, Dan knew that, but not getting to see his family crushed Phil from the inside out. He was sad and moody, becoming teary-eyed at the smallest mention of Christmas.

“Hey, maybe we should put the Christmas tree up? You love the Christmas tree,” Dan suggested, rubbing Phil’s arm.

Phil sniffed, rubbing his eyes, “I don’t think so, love.”

Dan hadn’t really mentioned it again, but his heart did clench in his chest every time Phil had to make a joke about how un-festive the flat was this year.

It was a Tuesday morning when the doorbell went. Phil had gone down the stairs as usual, clad in his colourful pyjamas with his glasses pushed up his nose, ready to accept the postman’s cheery greeting. 

He clambered back up the stairs as clumsily as usual, and made his way to the kitchen to put the mail on the table to check through it.

Though, the silence after this was deafening, just the idle clicking of Dan’s keyboard. 

“Phil?” Dan tried when he didn’t turn up in the living room, quirking an eyebrow when he didn’t get a reply. He put his laptop aside to go into the kitchen, his steps quiet thanks to his sock-clad feet.

Phil had his back turned to the door when Dan walked in, his shoulders shaking silently, hand drawn to his mouth to muffle his sobs. Dan looked at the kitchen table where a beautiful little box sat. Next to it was a card, addressed to them both with the unmistakable scrawl of Kathryn Lester. In the box, were mince pies neatly lined up. Dan felt his heart stutter, feeling the pain radiating from Phil.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Dan whispered, coming up behind Phil, circling his waist with his arms and pressing a kiss to his head. After a few moments, Phil turned round in his embrace, putting his head on his chest and sobbing, Dan’s body shaking along with the intensity of it. Dan shushed him, rubbing his back gently and fluttering kisses to his head.

“A year, Dan,” Phil whispered, hiccupping. “I haven’t seen them for so long.”

“I know, darling.”

-

Phil had been embarrassed for a while after that, refusing to keep eye contact with Dan.

“You know it’s okay to feel sad, Phil?” Dan whispered when they were laying in bed, Dan’s chest to Phil’s back, an arm slung tightly over his hip.

“It’s not that,” Phil sighed, turning to face him instead, lifting his finger to move a stray curl off Dan’s forehead and then cupping his face. “I’m worried about you.”

“Me?” Dan snorted a laugh, pulling Phil closer. “Phil, you know my family isn’t like yours. Being here with you will be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“That’s what I’m worried about” Phil said, biting his lip. “I’m scared you’ll think I don’t want to spend Christmas with you. Because I do, Dan. I want to spend everyday with you. I want you to spend it with me at my family home, though.” 

Dan didn’t interrupt, giving him a gentle smile, splaying his thumb out to massage Phil’s hip.

“Mum loves you, you know?” Phil murmured, slipping his hand down from Dan’s jaw to his neck, pressing lightly at his pulse point. Dan shuddered, his intake of breath audible. 

Dan leaned forward, pressing his lips to Phil’s, “I know.”

“Your lack of words doesn’t help, Daniel,” Phil teased.

“Phil, I know you love me,” Dan said simply, rolling over to straddle Phil’s hips, mouth pulled into a grin.

“But?”

“I know you love your mother, too. I know you want to spend Christmas with me, you tell me every single year,” Dan reminded him, leaning down to cage Phil’s head with his arms, looming over him. “The circumstances are just shit this time.”

“How do you always know what to say?” Phil murmured, gazing up at Dan happily; adoring.

“I don’t,” Dan said. “You just bring the best out in me.”

Phil lifted his head to kiss Dan greedily, his hand trailing up to Dan’s hair. He pulled back briefly, catching Dan’s eyes, half-lidded.

“I’ll show you how much I appreciate it,” he hummed, switching their positions and moving slowly down Dan’s body.

“You always do, darling.”

-

Afterwards, they lay together, sweaty and spent. Dan’s hand combed through Phil’s hair gently, his other hand cradling Phil to his chest.

“I’m sad. But I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you, Dan.”

Dan just smiled, kissing the top of Phil’s head and giving him a squeeze. Dan wasn’t quite as sad, but he was still grateful for his wonderful boy.

They managed to drag themselves out of bed eventually, persuaded by the idea of a warm shower, fluffy PJ’s and a takeaway pizza calling their names.

When they were clean and had ordered the pizza, Dan took Phil’s hand settling him down on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket.

“I’ll be back in a second, love,” he smiled as Phil pushed into the hand that was combing through his hair.

Dan went to the kitchen, pouring milk into two cups and heating it up in the microwave. He grinned when he saw the two hot chocolate bombs still sitting on his shelf. So Phil hadn't found them.

Once the milk was warm, he walked back into the living room and placed the glasses on the table. From his pocket, he produced the two hot chocolates, grinning as Phil’s face turned delighted.

“I’m lucky, Daniel,” Phil beamed, taking one out of Dan’s hands. They placed them in at the same time, watching as the chocolate melted and mini marshmallows popped to the top. 

They got snuggled under the blanket, Phil reaching for the TV remote once they were settled.

“Wait, one last thing,” Dan smiled, taking his laptop off the side table and opening it.

“Dan-”

“Shh,” Dan giggled, rolling his eyes. He pulled up skype.

“Hi, loves,” Kath grinned from the screen, waving and gesturing for Phil’s dad to come over. 

Phil got teary eyed quickly, covering his mouth.

“I know you’ve been struggling, bub,” Dan whispered, kissing the side of his head. “I know it’s not the same but-”

“I love you,” Phil murmured, snuggling tighter to Dan’s side. He looked to the screen where his mum was grinning, her own eyes misty. “I told you he’s too good to be real, mum,” he joked.

Dan laughed, swatting at Phil’s arm.

“It’s true, though. Thankyou, Dan. For looking after our boy.”

Dan turned rosy cheeked, the little red patch beside his jaw going even darker.

“He makes it easy,” He mumbled, catching Phil’s eye. Phil kissed him quickly. 

“Anyway, mum, have you seen these hot chocolate bombs?”

-

Christmas Day came quickly. Phil was still sad, but at the same time, he was happy waking up in Dan’s arms. 

“You can cry, if you need to,” Dan said, rubbing his arms. Phil pushed back into his hold, sighing as their bodies pressed even tighter together.

“I don’t. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They stayed in bed until 12pm, only getting up when their stomachs started grumbling loudly. They made cereal, sitting side by side on the couch, exchanging gifts at the same time. There were tears, but only happy. Especially when they started the skype session where Phil’s family and Dan’s family were chatting happily, uncaring of Dan and Phil’s hands which were linked together beneath the blanket they were sat under.

The skype lasted until around 2pm, when the boys left to get ready. changing into actual clothes and making themselves look like functioning human beings.

Later, they snapped some photos sat on the carpet, holding their drinks, slightly buzzed from the alcohol already. 2 were shared with their followers.

1 was kept for just them.

[ray-ray-writings]

700 Friend Behind the Scene Special!

Hello there! So a little bit of back story, everything I write is written in a google doc because it automatically saves everything and I can think clearer when I’m typing in a document. Sometimes when I’m writing, I’ll get tired or get stuck or write something I don’t like. So I’ll make a note to myself of what I was writing so I can come back to it later, or write out the basic idea of what I want to happen so I can visualize it in words better, or hit enter a few times and re-write somethings. So in celebration of me hitting 700 friends I have gathered a few of those things so that I can share with you a little bit of my thought process, but also so you might have a laugh or may see where some of your favorite stories almost went. I don’t know if any of you will actually like this or actually care, but I thought that it was something cool lol. So here you go! I hope you enjoy!!!

Notes to Self/Prompts to Myself

A Dedicated and Domesticated Pig: *Note to future self so I know what I was going for. He’s making breakfast with your child on your hip. I’m thinking a daughter named something with Phil’s name maybe or maybe just a T name. Then you two are leaving for a festival in L’Manberg where Philza interacts with your daughter. And the night ends with you three cuddled up together and you’re reminiscing on how he asked you out and then it all comes full circle somehow using the words dedicated because we’re that kind of simp*

Gift of Friendship: Techno- “I made friendship bracelets”. “I don’t wear jewelry” “oh okay. I can take it back. You don’t have to wear it I’ll take it back-“ “no I will wear this until the day I die

Notes in general: There are a lot of *Insert title here* or *Insert really cool and creative title here*

There is also a lot of *Insert really nice summary here that sums everything up but is also clever*

Actually Pretty Funny: I knew I wanted to use “Tommy leave me alone” “Tommy told me you were in here crying” “That little snitch” but I didn’t know where so I made a note to use it. 

What Could Have Been or Almost Was

This has a few pieces of writing but is mostly about what I almost titled the pieces you know and love. 

Stolen Goods: I was about to retort but the sound of the nether portal activating cut my words off.

“We’re back!” I heard my younger brother call out. Techno and I walked together toward the portal to greet our brothers, but they weren’t alone. “Hey guys! Oh hey Dream,” I greeted the three, setting my chest down next to the wood I brought in earlier. “Hey Y/N/N? Get what we asked for?” Tommy asked, walking toward me. I simply stared at him and then looked at the pile of wood beside me. “No” I deadpanned. 

I then turned to my chest and quickly put my axe away. “Then what’s that?” Tommy questioned in confusion. I rolled my eyes, closed my chest and turned to him. “What you asked for dummy” “But you just said no?” “I was being sarcastic!” I exclaimed, moving toward him and slightly pushing him. “Well I didn’t know that!” Tommy exclaimed, pushing me back. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Stop pushing each other.” Wilbur demanded, “Just say thank you and move on Tommy.” Tommy huffed but said, “Thank you Y/N.” “You’re welcome Tommy.” 

“So is this how you four interact all the time?” Dream questioned, moving closer to the two of us. I let out a laugh and turned to the masked man, “Yeah. Pretty much. Sometimes we get along, but sometimes they get on my nerves.” I informed the man, while playfully glaring at 

A Hairy Situation: I had a lot of trouble coming up with a cool title for “a Hairy Situation” . It almost was like “Braided Together” or something like that but I was like, it’s about hair. It’s a situation. It’s a Hairy Situation.

Either Lean on Me or 3am conversation I don’t remember: Tommy did something. He did something bad” Tubbo admitted. I nodded to show the young man I was listening to, “Okay,” I prompted. “Tommy was messing around and he accidentally set George’s house on fire.” My eyes widened at Tubbo’s words. “His new house?” I asked in disbelief. Tubbo nodded, staring into his cup. “Dream is pissed.” He continued. “He gave me an ultimatum. He said that either we go to war or…” Tubbo’s words died on his tongue. “Or what?” I asked, attempting to gently prompt the boy. “What’s the other option Tubbo?” “Or exile Tommy.” His words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Missing You: This fic was almost titled “Radio silence” and was almost irl and was about the day that he got that prank pulled on him where everyone in his Discord was muted and not talking to him. And I almost wrote it so you’re in that call and you are participating in the prank and he just guilt trips you so hard that you unmute and are like “I’m so sorry!” 

Better Than a Dedicated Chicken was almost titled “A Funtime Festival”. But then I was like, ‘I hate that. Since it’s a sequel I want to keep a theme… Maybe something about dedication.’ and thus this was born. 

Faking Happy- I almost left it on the sad ending where Sam flies away using his trident and you collapse and sob by yourself in the rain. And then I added more to it because I was sad. 

Protect You was almost titled “Looking out for you” but I thought that might be too clunky and so I shorten it and stuff.

Wither or Not almost ended without the whole ‘techno goes to your house to comfort you’ scene at the end and almost ended in angst, but I was too sad to do that because I knew the next Techno piece I was writing was going to end in angst. 

Not Your Fault almost was going to be a different story completely than what it became. I thought a lot about how to do it but the ways I wanted to write it and the way the anon who requested it probably wanted it but I couldn’t make the prompts fit well in the way I wanted to write it. I thought about having you be on a bridge drinking alone because you had to exile your brothers and Schlatt approaches you there and you’re like “leave me alone. I hate you” and he’s like “no you don’t” and it’s a bit angsty, but then I couldn’t figure out how to fit “I had to see you again in that”. And then I thought about having him exile you and come and see you with a “I had to see you again” but then he would know where pogtopia is and we can’t have that. So then I thought maybe you’d visit him before he gets killed but then I couldn’t figure out how to fit the prompts that way either. So I finally settled on what it became. 

Chat’s a Snitch was almost titled “My New Boyfriend’s a Songwriter” and instead of being in established relationship, him seeing you sing his song would be how you two meet and he would fall in love with you and write you a song, but then that wouldn’t have really been what the request was and I didn’t want to deviate that much from the request and I think I was feeling a bit lazy that day so I wrote what it is. 

Defending Family was another one I had a hard time coming up with a cool and clever title for. At one point I considered titling it “i will physically fight you”

Crossed Lines was almost called “Hold tight” because I had this idea that maybe when Dream kidnapped you he put you somewhere high and at once point you dangle over the edge, about to fall and so they scream ‘hold tight’ and yeah. I decided not to though because I wasn’t sure how I would go about putting the reader there and getting them down. But once I wrote it due to the amount of times I said “that’s crossing a line” I decided to title it crossed lines. I think this piece is actually one of my least favorites because I’m not sure if I liked how it turned out but idk man. 

Totem Troubles was almost called “To Hell and Back” because in the request they wanted me to include hints of the story of Orpheus and Euridice but when I was unable to do that, I had to come up with a new title and I really had a hard time with that. 

The Next Step was almost called “Come Live with Me” because I loved the musical ‘Hadestown’. At first I wanted that particular imagine to have more Techno/reader scenes, but then I had a hard time figuring out how to bring up the things and then it felt too short. Then I was like “What if he just talks to Phil about it” and boom it was written. I’m still a huge musical nerd so I titled it “The Next Step” because in a Beetlejuice song two of the main characters are thinking of making a huge step in their relationship and that line is repeated over and over so I stole it…. :). Also for this one I had to literally just take a step back and write out a full ass summary because I was having really really bad writer’s block because I had no idea what I was doing. Unfortunately I don’t have that, I wish I did because it was really funny because it was a summary of the story but it was like “And so Philza’s like bro. Dude. Just tell them” and then Techno’s like “No dad. Stay out of my business” and Philza’s like “Bro. Look around at your house. You love them” 

Warming Up didn’t become the title of that piece until the very end. When I read requests I always give them a ‘working title’ that may or may no become the real title when they’re finished and ready to be posted. This one however had a title that was just a joke for myself. It was titled “The Weasel” because Y/N was weaseling her way into Techno’s home and then later his heart. 

Calling Philza Dad Drabble: When you greet him though, you always greet him with a hug usually calling out from the door way, “Dad! I’m home!” Very cheesy like. And he comes around the corner and you two hug. And then after you hug, you are like “I missed you!!!” to Phil. And Phil touches his heart and is like, “That’s so nice to hear. 

So you usually come over everyday. Everyday when you come over, you always shout out, “Dad! I’m home!” And he rushes out but there are days you don’t and so the next time you d

There was a time though that you had to go out of town for like a week and so you didn’t come over at all and both Techno and Philza found themselves missing you. So the day comes where you get home and you come barreling in the door. You can see Philza in the kitchen cooking something and he quickly turns to the door in shock. You simply grin at him and shout, “DAD! I’M HOME!!!” And he immediately rushed out of the kitchen and pulls you into a great big, warm hug which you instantly returned. “I missed you so so so much!” You announced as you squeeze him tightly. 

Warming up working description: Y/N is dying in the snow and Philza’s like “We gotta save them!” and Techno’s like “Why is that our problem?” but helps anyway and then falls in love with Y/N…. Ya know, cliches and shit

I hope you enjoyed reading this monstrosity! Would this be something you guys are interested in seeing? Like a behind the scenes version of my writing. Like I save things like this when I write them and when I have a good chuck I post them? Up to you guys, let me know!

[lonelyheartsclubhaze]

Chilly mornings away from home

January 2019 // Chapter 4

Soft piano notes waded their way into my mind, rousing me from sleep. Erik Satie’s “Gymnopédie No. 1” complemented streaks of sunlight that seeped in from cracks between the window shutters.

I rolled onto my stomach, patting along the bedsheets, searching for the alarm’s source. Locating my iPhone under a fluffy body pillow, I quickly tapped the snooze button, earning myself nine more minutes of repose.

Mornings were always so disorienting. I still had yet to remember where and when I was. Such things could wait. Clinging onto that snoozy state of nonexistence, I didn’t want to wake up. I was eager for unmindfulness.

Inevitably coming to, dizziness hit like a military grade tank as I realized that my bed was facing the wrong way. My morning senses spun westward from their southern-facing expectations. Cracking my eyes open a few nanometers more, baby blue walls, rather than white, met my gaze. I faced a medium size flatscreen TV set atop a brown cabinet bordered by cream, cushioned seats and a black mini-refrigerator.

It was so easy to be surprised by mornings. Here I was, expecting one thing and receiving another. It wasn’t a huge deal, and they were natural mistakes, but jeez, was I caught off guard. My bed typically faced a window on the southern side of my room in Berkeley, confined by white walls under high ceilings. Unlike my room in Berkeley, however, the ceilings in this place were much lower with windows much wider. My forgetfulness fading, I remembered why I was in this barely decent Denver hotel room, namely, for a job interview.

Grimacing, I also remembered that the aforementioned job interview had taken place yesterday—giving me a sense for why I might have preferred snoozy states of nonexistence to waking life. It was for some technician role at a Pharma-lab. And while they didn’t pay anything close to what Ajay would be receiving at Facebook (while still remaining just as controversial), money was money. Plus, it seemed like a good way to boost my med school app during the summer. Worst case scenario: I’d just spend the upcoming summer studying for the MCAT, which had to happen sooner or later. At this rate, however, it was looking like the worst case scenario would be my only scenario.

Oh well. With a redeye flight the next morning and the interview out of the way, I had a day to kill in Denver. Classes were still on hold for another week-and-a-half and since everyone was home for the holidays, Grace had offered to put me up at her place for the day. She was supposed to come by around nine AM to pick me up.

I rubbed my eyes and pulled up the blanket. The AC units at hotels were always freezing cold—particularly on especially inconvenient occasions, like now, right smack in the middle of a January morning. I flipped over my phone and turned off the alarm. The clock read seven-twenty-one AM. Just enough time to get ready and grab a quick bite before Grace was to arrive.

My hands smacked against the headboard of the bed mid-stretch, my wrists rolling as I struggled to fully wake up. Sitting up, I checked my phone for missed messages, sending out short, succinct text messages where they were needed. I cracked my neck and thrust my legs off the tall bed, my feet grazing the hotel carpet. I stood up, stretching my arms toward the spinning fan that hung from the low ceiling, and started toward the bathroom, tossing my iPhone onto the bathroom counter.

The shower roared to life with the turn of a knob. I grabbed a hotel-provided toothbrush and some paste on my way to the shower, along with a travel-size bottle of CeraVe foaming face wash. Inside, water rushed over my short, black hair, splashing onto medium broad shoulders and size ten-and-a-half feet as I washed my face. After mopping my chest, toes, and everything in-between with an ivory bar of soap, I squirted some toothpaste onto the brush and got to work, counting out one-hundred-twenty seconds in my head. Finally, I turned off the water and reached around the shower curtain for a towel. Drying myself off, I stepped out of the shower and packed up my bath supplies into a compact travel bag.

I shook the towel over my head to dry my hair and tapped on my iPhone screen to find one new notification. Hovering my face over the phone to unlock it, a blue message from Maddie read:

To which I replied:

She followed with:

Heart racing, I replied:

Two minutes passed. I held my breath.

Four minutes—then, a small blurb of text underneath my last message read:

Read 7:46 AM

I sighed and put down my phone. My face contorted as a profusion of expletives rushed my thoughts. Shouldn’t have double-texted her.

I supposed that it didn’t matter too much. She was with someone, anyway. When I’d seen her in December, before we’d left for winter holidays, she’d been at Bear’s Ramen House in the Asian Ghetto—the food hub a block from Sproul Hall—eating with some guy I’d seen around, probably on campus. He was a moderately wealthy, white kid from Marin studying one of the various biology sub-majors offered by Cal. He was also a junior, like Maddie, so a year ahead of me, as if his towering six-foot-three-inch figure wasn’t enough to give him a leg up on me with regards to Maddie. I didn’t know him all that well, despite having had a discussion section or two with him, though we greeted each other with a polite nod of the head when passing by one another in the Valley Life Sciences Building (VLSB) or in the library. To be honest, I didn’t even remember his name, just his face. His outfits often consisted of athleisure wear from Nike and/or Champion, giving off the impression that he played sports. I wasn’t quite sure whether or not this impression was accurate, but I did sometimes see him on the Glade or other grassy campus sites playing Spikeball, accompanied by peers with faces I vaguely recognized.

We’d often talk, Maddie and I. Sometimes I’d run into her on the spiral staircase at VLSB—the stairs that’d curl around the large, plaster T-Rex model to face broad windows on the east, granting access to the morning sun. She’d be on her way to a bio lab downstairs; me, on my way to the private, grad student bathroom that I’d secretly gained access to on the second floor. The restroom upstairs was protected by a keypad, but the code was too obvious: 362 362, or DNA DNA.

“Wonder where you could be going,” she’d say.

“Just need to make sure my hair is okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to get a few extra points from Professor Meighan,” I’d joke back.

“Do you poop here everyday?” she’d ask with wide eyes. “Or maybe you just like seeing me, huh? Is that it?”

I’d freeze up.

She’d laugh, saying, “Maybe a little bit of both, right, J?”

“Nothing gets past you,” I’d mumble.

“You’re funny,” she’d say. “You should have your own TV show. Maybe once you’re done with your residency you can join Grey’s Anatomy, or Scrubs. Or maybe you can have a talk show! Like Dr. Phil, but more funny and less depressing.”

“What about me gives off the impression that I’d ever want to have a TV show, at all, in any way whatsoever?” I’d say, shaking my head.

“See? Just like that! Always asking the right questions! Like Ellen DeGeneres but all doctor-like.”

She tended to tease me a lot. I didn’t mind. In fact, it was probably part of her appeal—definitely was, on second thought.

Like a good portion of the many pre-med students out there, Maddie was a biology major. Berkeley offered a few different options for bio students, and I’m pretty sure she was studying molecular and cellular biology, though it’s hard for me to say. If I wanted to remember something about her, I’d write it down in my iPhone notes. Otherwise, my hippocampus tended to toss it out, preferring to form memories of her nose, her lips, and those low cut shirts that left me off balance.

We’d text back-and-forth about classes, sometimes. A lot less after I saw her eating with what’s-his-face. I didn’t blame her.

My phone read eight AM. I tossed on a waffle knit shirt and long johns, then a Columbia fleece and Levi jeans, topping it off with an aged ski jacket that I’d ‘borrowed’ from Adam, who was up in Tahoe at least twice a month in the winter. I slung the beaten, black JanSport backpack containing my belongings over my shoulders and headed out the hotel door, making for the elevator.

The room door shut quietly behind as I banked right into a narrow corridor housing four elevators, two on each side. I pressed a button to summon one and within a minute, the light above the furthest elevator on my right blinked on. The door opened and I entered, clicking the button indicating the main lobby of the hotel. The door shut and the elevator fell five floors before slowing to let in an older, Black woman wearing a fitted, bell-shaped hat.

“Ground floor?” I asked.

She smiled sweetly. “Yes, honey. Thank you.”

We descended the final four floors in silence. Arriving at the ground floor, the elderly woman smiled and nodded at me before exiting first. I followed her out, glanced down at my iPhone, then diverged from her path as I headed toward the central lobby to check out. After snapping my room key card in half, I left the hotel, walking toward a Caribou Coffee a few blocks north.

Under the warm skies of Seal Beach, California, where I was born and raised, people tended to take their coffee with ice more often than here in Denver, Colorado. Every Friday, my mother would pick up an americano for herself—black, with no cream or sugar—on her way to work. I’d tag along as a kid, but sooner than later elementary school drop-offs morphed into middle school bike rides, then high school walks with pretty girls I swore I had a chance with, and then the here-and-now, flying Economy for interviews that wouldn’t yield job offers.

It’s funny—when I was a kid I practically hated being seen with my parents. At back-to-school events—the evenings when parents conglomerated to celebrate the annual accomplishments of their children—I wouldn’t be caught dead near my family. Somehow, I thought it made me look childish, or immature. After graduating from high school, however, I started seeing them less and less, and I began to find myself missing mom’s morning espresso runs more and more.

It seemed as though I must have picked up my mother’s coffee drinking habits, because when I arrived at the Caribou Coffee on sixteenth street at approximately eight-twenty-five AM, I too ordered an americano with no cream or sugar.

“That comes out to three-thirty-nine,” said the female barista. She wore a black apron over red and black striped under-layers, with a white wool beanie on her head, and deep black mascara on her eyelashes.

I thanked her and handed over three dollar bills along with some loose change from my jacket pocket.

“On second thought,” I said, retracting my hand. “Can I also get one of those?” I gestured to a blueberry scone behind the glass counter.

“Sure. Just three extra dollars.” she said.

I counted out three extra dollar bills, handing the money to the barista. Then I walked over to a small rounded table situated near the entrance and sat down. Scanning my iPhone, I saw that Grace had texted me, so I responded, asking her to pick me up at the Denver sixteenth street Caribou Coffee. Then I put my phone away and tapped silently along the underside of the table, slightly impatient for my pastry and drink.

I wondered what Grace had in mind for the day. I hadn’t seen her since—well, I suppose it wasn’t that long ago—final exams last semester. Personally, Grace and I had yet to have a class together, but Adam always took one or two bullshit classes with her, so she was often around my house anyway—especially during the week of final exams, when they’d study together all day long. As an English major, she had it pretty easy schedule-wise. She hardly stressed, at least outwardly, and was rarely overburdened with work, so she never missed a chance to chat it up with my housemates or me when Adam brought her over. She was really likable too. Even Albert got along with her, making small talk about Proust or the latest Pulitzer Prize winning novel from Jennifer Egan, and that’s saying a lot.

She always made it a point to stop by my room upstairs, at 2231 Dwight, waving ‘hello’ to me before vanishing for hours into the recesses of Adam’s single downstairs. I really liked that about her.

A small vibration from my left pant pocket convinced me to reach in. I pulled out my iPhone and saw that Grace had texted me. She was to arrive a bit early, in fifteen or so, around eight-fifty-five AM. She was driving in a black Honda Civic, she’d said. I texted her back to let her know that I’d be ready.

“I’ve got a medium americano and a blueberry scone!” called the barista.

I stood up, pulling my jacket over the chair to mark my temporary territory, then hurried over to the counter to grab my order. “Thanks,” I said before hurrying back to my table, balancing the warm, paper cup in one hand with the scone in the other.

Sitting back down at the table, I huffed down the scone. Then I took off the lid of the cup, wisps of steam condensing on the furl of my lip. I blew gently, cooling the drink.

I sipped slowly, then decided to put on my jacket and wait outside. Grace would be here any minute and I didn’t want her to miss me. I was getting sick of waiting by myself anyway. Walking outside, an icy burst of air cut right through me. I shivered, then zipped up Adam’s ski jacket. It was a good thing that it wasn’t snowing, because it was cold enough as it was.

I paced around for a bit, rubbing my hands to keep warm, until finally, a black Honda Civic with a freckled girl at its helm slowed to a stop slightly ahead of the sixteenth street coffee shop.

Grace rolled down the passenger window. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said back. My pace quickened as my feet approached her car.

“I missed you, dude,” she said. “Come on, let’s go. It’s freezing outside.” A crimson hoodie hid most of her delicate contours, though the graceful arcs that formed over her breasts hinted at something more. The left side of her chest housed a star-shaped sports logo with the words ‘Broomfield Soccer Club’ below in a decorative typeface.

I opened the car door and hopped into the passenger seat. Gusts of warm air ruffled my hair.

She reached over the center console and squeezed me in a close hug. “How was break?”

“Pretty good. I mean, I was finally able to—”

“Bruh,” she groaned. “Did you read Science?”

“What?”

“The magazine,” she said, squinting her eyes.

I cocked my head to the side. “Was I supposed to?”

Grace rolled her eyes and sighed. “Can you?”

“Is there something I should be looking for?”

“Oh my god. Take out your phone.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now. Jesus-fucking-Christ, J.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling the iPhone from my jean pocket.

“Okay.” She cracked her finger knuckles. “Google ‘butterflies’.”

“Grace—” I started.

“Come on. Look it up.”

“Okay. Just because you’re asking.” I opened Chrome’s mobile browser on my phone, typed in ‘butterflies’, and pressed ‘search’.

She cleared her throat.

“Butterfly,” I read. “An insect from the ma-cro-lep-id-opt-er-an clade Rho-pal-o-cer-a, from the order Lep-id-op-tera—”

“No!” She snatched my phone and scrolled down. “Here. California’s monarch butterfly count drops by eighty-six percent, just last year!”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is butterfly watching a hobby you picked up over break or something?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

I coughed to cover a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t know you took butterflies so seriously.”

“God, and I’m supposed to go to a guy like you for my yearly checkups?” she gasped.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Grace—”

“I don’t want to hear it, insect-killer.” She blew aside a tuft of hair from her forehead. “So, how was it?”

“How was what?”

“How was break?”

“Oh. Right,” I said. “Well, I finally got around to watching that show you and Adam were talking about last semester.”

“Peaky Blinders?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, it’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I really like Tommy’s brother, Arthur. I think he’s funny. I’m not too sure how I feel about Polly yet, though, but then again I’m only on season three.”

“Adam fucks with Arthur too. Personally, I’m more of a John-kinda-person. I think he’s less murderous than Arthur. Kills too much. How’s Adam doing, though?”

“Honestly, you probably know better than me. Haven’t seen him since we left for home.”

“I feel it.”

Grace made a sharp right onto the I-25 freeway, accelerating until our speed plateaued around ninety miles per hour. I gripped the sides of my seat—ninety was a little too fast for my tastes. I considered myself a defensive driver. Dull buildings bordered the freeway shoulders, and I tried to focus on them to distract myself from Grace’s driving.

“What do you say we stop by a park or something, J? Not really tryna see my parents right now.” Grace glanced at me, her hands still on the wheel.

I felt a bit queasy watching her take her eyes off the road. “Yeah, works for me. Something going on?”

“Eh, the usual. Just get sick of ‘em being home for so long,” she said. “But anyhow, I have a ball in the trunk. We can kick it around or some shit.”

The road grew bumpier as we drove over a waterway on the way to Grace’s neighborhood. Spoiled by scenic coastal sights on the drive up to Berkeley, the glum scenes around me felt sobering. I tapped my foot, eager to get out of the car.

Eventually, Grace took exit 225 on the right, keeping left to merge onto East One-hundred-thirty-sixth Avenue. We passed a stucco structure with a sign that read ‘Broomfield’.

“Almost there,” said Grace. “I know just the spot.”

Finally, Grace made a left into a small parking lot bordered by bright green, grassy fields on one end and unkempt trails on the other. “Quail park. I grew up playing soccer here.”

I looked around. I was glad to be there—it certainly yielded better views than the drive had. “It’s pretty.”

Grace popped open the trunk and pulled out a soccer ball and pump. She filled it with air quickly, then gestured for me to carry the ball. We walked over to the open fields, brushing permafrost aside as we squished the grass beneath our feet. Back and forth, we kicked the ball to one another, Grace showing off every now and then by booting the ball over her head and onto her knees, juggling it for ten, maybe twenty bounces before passing it back to me.

“So?” she said. “Did you kill the interview?”

I winced. “Not exactly.”

Grace toed the ball inward, using its momentum to whip the ball onto the flat of her foot. With a touch of force, she tapped the ball into the air and into her hands. “Come on, J. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

I smiled a bit. “It really was though.”

She laughed and dropped the ball to her feet. Passing it back to me, she said, “Ah, whatever. You don’t want to work in Denver anyway. You’re not cut out for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at you. You’ve been shivering your ass off since I picked you up, dummy. And I have heated seats!” she said.

“Hey,” I started. “You’re not wrong.”

“Rarely am. Anyhow, how are things with, uh, you know . . .”

“Maddie?” I finished.

“Yes, right, Maddie.”

“She texted me this morning.”

“Oooooh,” said Grace. “How’s Brandon gonna feel about that?”

Ah, right, Brandon. How could I forget?

“Brandon . . . Right. Well, I doubt that it’s a major concern of his at the moment. She left me on read anyway.”

“Oh. Well, it’s her loss anyhow. She’s missing out on a star athlete!” said Grace as she punted the ball, knocking me square in the chest.

“Fucking shit!” I howled.

“You sound like Adam more and more everyday,” she said.

“So dreams do come true.”

“Isn’t it funny,” said Grace, juggling the ball on her quads. “Don’t you feel like certain words belong to certain people?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, don’t you associate certain words with certain people? Like every swear word with Adam, for example, and or maybe, I’m sure there are some you have in mind for Maddie or whoever.”

“You sure you’re not projecting, Grace?” I asked.

This time she threw the ball at me, and it proceeded to hit me right on the head. We kicked around for another hour or so, talking about this or that—how final exams went; our plans for the semester; and Pac-12 Women’s soccer, despite an utter lack of knowledge regarding the sport’s conference on my part. Around five-thirty in the late afternoon, we decided to get something to eat, so Grace drove us to a Vietnamese spot called Golden Bowl Noodle House which she heralded as the greatest phở restaurant on the west coast.

We sat down in blue booth seats across from one another, red and gold walls bordering us on my left. A large, square, green painting depicting an ocean scene lined the wall between us. I ordered the same thing as Grace, the Combo Number One, which consisted of a small rare steak phở, 2 spring rolls, and an iced tea. Grace asked to change hers to a warm tea, which was probably the better move in hindsight. Our drinks arrived first, and we sipped on them slowly. I was hungry—blueberry scones could only provide so much sustenance.

A robed Asian woman, with a slight hunch in her back as she hobbled over, arrived with a tray carrying two bowls of soupy noodles; four translucent wrapped appetizers; and a small dish with bean sprouts, Thai basil, and other add-ons. She bowed slightly and left us to our meals, so I looked over at Grace who had already taken her first bite from a spring roll. I followed her lead, feeling the cool cloak of rice wrappers over fresh shrimp, cilantro, and basil. Taking a bite, my teeth met shrimp with just the right amount of snap, the unexpected tang of hoisin sauce gifting a pleasant surprise.

Grace smacked my hand. “Use the peanut sauce! You gotta appreciate it properly, cuz some people can’t. Did you know that the rate of food allergies is increasing rapid as fuck—especially in developed nations like the US?”

I did as she said, dipping the spring roll into the gloppy, brown sauce. She wasn’t wrong—it was better that way. After swallowing my last bite of the spring rolls, Grace tossed some bean sprouts into my soup and squeezed lime juice over my bowl.

“You know this isn’t my first time eating phở, right?” I said.

Grace hushed me and continued eating. I watched her twirl a handful of noodles into her chopsticks, lifting them to her mouth over a soup spoon. Noisy slurps concluded with sapid bites followed by quick sips of tea. Rinse and repeat.

I opted for a fork, twisting firm noodles around its prongs as best I could, gulping down spoonfuls of savory soup in between steak and noodle bites. I watched the red meat cook to a brownish hue, the hot broth’s steam parting like sea waves under my chin.

“I’ll give it to you,” I said. “It’s good.”

Grace glanced at me, nodded, and continued eating. Finishing promptly, she leaned back into her chair and exhaled heavily.

I rushed to keep up with her, but it took me significantly longer to finish. Sooner or later, the robed woman limped over with the bill. I rose to my feet and met her halfway. I pulled out a Mastercard and slipped it into the folded check before handing it back to her and sitting back down with Grace.

“Real gentleman, aren’t you?”

“It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me today. Besides, you’ve just introduced me to the ‘best phở on the west coast’, right?”

“Suppose that’s true. Okay, you’re right, dinner on you.”

The restaurant owner signaled that I could take back my card, so I walked over, tipped four-and-a-half dollars, tucked away my card, and we left for the car.

Grace’s eyelids were a bit heavy, so I asked her if she wanted me to drive. She handed me her keys and jumped into the passenger seat. After I buckled into the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition, she directed me to make a right out of the parking lot. I drove slowly back to her house, which was only ten or so minutes away, then pulled into her garage. The garage led into a two-story, vinyl sided, upper-middle class home with a comely, green lawn out front.

“Come on. I’ll show you to the guest room.”

I followed her over hardwood floors into the living room, where a tall, white man with square sunglasses over his eyes and a black beanie atop his head shuffled through TV channels with a remote. The lights were off in the room even though the sun had set a little less than an hour prior.

“How are you doing, sir?” I asked.

“Wassup?” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “How are you today, sir?”

“All good.” He took a long draw from an IPA resting on the coffee table in front of him. “Catch y’all. Gracey—you got trash, yea?”

Before Grace could reply, a voice called from the kitchen around the corner, “I got today, hun!”

We nodded in acknowledgment to the man and turned to leave. “Must be your dad?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said. And that was the end of it.

I followed Grace into the kitchen. A woman—her mother, presumably—with a polka dot apron around her neck and a noticeable accent in her voice greeted us warmly. I was surprised by the speed of the woman as she rushed me with a sturdy hug, a tactic she then repeated on her daughter.

“Are you Filipino?” she asked, placing a motherly hand on my shoulder.

“No, ma’am.”

“Ayo,” she said. “No problem. Sleep good, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for letting me stay—”

“Sorry about him, mom,” said Grace. She hit me on the back playfully and the two women burst into laughter in unison. “You’re always welcome, J.”

I smiled, said goodbye, and trailed Grace as she led me up a winding staircase to a small bedroom encapsulated by canary yellow walls laden with rooster prints. The room housed a twin bed and two lamps with cube-ish shades. The bedsheets matched the walls, realistic rooster designs corresponding with the overarching theme of the bedroom.

“Don’t ask,” said Grace. “Night, J. Sleep up.”

I hugged Grace and thanked her. “Night.”

It was still early, only six-thirty or so, so I plopped onto the bed and pulled out my iPhone, intent on watching YouTube videos to pass some time. I chuckled to myself as I admired the chicken print theme of the room.

Clicking my phone to life, I was surprised to find text messages from Maddie that read:

I sighed and put the iPhone down as my heart rate spiked into the mid eighties.

[allthephils]

Smart Casual

Word count: 2362 Rated E (smut)

This was written for @phandomficfests bingo for my chastity device square. I might have taken some liberties with the prompt. This is very much porn without plot.

Summary: Phil’s zipper is stuck.

Read on AO3

Shopping is best done in one’s pajamas. That’s always been Phil’s way. Lounging on the sofa is fine but he prefers to be tucked into bed with a hot cup of cocoa or maybe a glass of wine, and with Dan sitting next to him. A shirtless Dan, rambling on about whatever Subreddit or wiki page he’s landed on, is motivating. He wants to look good for himself but he also wants to elicit a very specific response from Dan. He’s always got heart eyes, even ten years later, the fans really are spot on about that. But there’s another look, a look that he does occasionally let slip on camera but is usually reserved for just the two of them. It’s a certain glimmer to his eyes, a parting of the lips, a subtle drop in the tone of his voice.

To be honest, he can see it anytime he wants. All he has to do is run his fingers through Dan’s hair, kiss his neck, whisper in his ear, guess what I’m thinking, Danny. Catching Dan off guard though, seeing that look in public or in the middle of the day, knowing Dan has to hold back, that is the ultimate victory. So, along with rainbow hoodies, and Pokémon t-shirts, he’ll shop for jumpers that hug his broad shoulders though he’d usually prefer them oversized. He’ll search specifically for black knit that’s soft but not too chunky so they don’t hide the subtle contours of Phil’s chest. He’ll angle the screen toward Dan for approval and wait for a grunt or a shrug or a hum. The hum comes when Dan’s paying attention, when he sees something he’d like to see on Phil.  

This time it’s not a jumper. Phil’s trying to break out of his black jeans rut and Topman has nice skinny grey plaid trousers. It’s like old Phil meets new Phil and he thinks he could maybe pull these off. They are way more fashion forward than he’d usually choose so he runs them by Dan and it happens. The hum.

“Yes. Those are a yes. Those are cool.”

“Really?” Phil says, clicking through the images, trying to ignore the model’s ass in favor of looking at the actual trousers. “You think they’ll suit me?”

“Absolutely.” He raises his chin to emphasize the next phrase he speaks, “Dat ass is going to look so fine in those.”

“I don’t know, they’re kinda smart for everyday.”

“Let that thicc booty shine Phil. It deserves to be showcased.” He’s back to reading about volcanos or nihilism or whatever.

“Okay, I’m gonna get ‘em.” And so he clicks and they’re on their way.

When the package arrives, it could be anything. It’s from Topman but that doesn’t exactly narrow it down. This is a big part of why Phil shops online. He loves getting packages, it’s like having lots of tiny little Christmases. Dan’s gaming but he watches from the corner of his eye as Phil works to free the box from it’s tape. After several minutes, Dan silently pauses his game, stands and heads to the kitchen. He returns with a pair of scissors, takes the box, cuts the tape, hands the box back to Phil, and sits back down to resume his gameplay.

“Ooh, it’s the plaid ones!” Phil laughs a little, “oh my god, what was I thinking?”

The game pauses again. “Let me see.” Dan turns to look at Phil as he stands and holds the trousers up.

“I’m gonna return them, they’re ridiculous.”

“What are you talking about?” Dan reaches over to feel the fabric.

“I’m gonna look like George McFly.”

“George McFly was low key hot. Try them on. Please? For me.”

***

“Hello gorgeous!” Dan sounds awestruck, dramatically stretching every syllable for emphasis. “You styled yourself. Well done, Phil.”

“I do have some sense of style, Dan.”

He wears a black jumper only because it's the one top he has that is solid black. He chose white low top trainers and no show socks channeling Dan’s ankle exhibitionism. He won’t admit that this style is really just him copying what looks good on Dan. This really isn’t him. He’d never wear this out and he still plans on returning the trousers. He did buy them to get a reaction though so he might as well parade around a little, give Dan a little taste of what it might be like to have a boyfriend who stays up to date with fashion.

“Yes Phil, show me those sexy ass ankles!”

Phil laughs, “Ass ankles? Okay Dan.”

“No really, this is the perfect amount of skin for fall, you’re ankles are hot.”

“Your so Victorian Dan, one glimpse of ankle and your all flustered.”

“Oh,” Dan gets up off the sofa and stands, hands on his hips. He looks Phil slowly up and down. “It’s not just the ankles.”

And Phil knows that’s true. He looked in the mirror before he came out to the lounge. The trousers are tighter than any he’d ever wear of his own volition. He feels a little trapped, squeezed into them. In any other setting, he’d be yanking the hem of his jumper down, trying to cover his pornographic bulge. It’s so embarrassing, walking around, looking like you stuffed a sock down your crotch. There’s really no hiding in these, he’s pretty sure you could make out the exact outline of his dick if you looked closely, and Dan is looking. Intently.

“Oi,” Phil says, “my eyes are up here.”

Dan clears his throat, feigning embarrassment, and rattles his head as if to snap out of a trance. Phil giggles. This is fun, totally worth the £65 and the short time spent totally constricted.  

“Give us a twirl then.”

Phil does his best fashion model twirl but Dan just swivels his finger in the air as if to say keep spinning. By the third spin, Phil is dizzy and giggling, “Dan! I’m gonna fall over!”

“Aaaaaaaaand stop!” Dan shouts and Phil freezes in place, facing away from Dan. “That’s the pose I was looking for. Yum.”

Leaning forward a bit, Phil wiggles his arse. Just as he’s about to laugh and turn around, putting an end to the joke, he feels Dan’s hands, both of them. They settle on his hips as Dan steps forward, pulling Phil close until there is no space between them.

Warm breath moves over the little hairs on the back of Phil’s neck and they stand on end. Dan’s left hand slides past his hip, finding his tightly wrapped bulge. There’s a long, slow exhale in Phil’s ear. “I really like these trousers, Phil.”

He’s squeezing him through the thin fabric and it feels way better than it should. It’s just those big hands and Dan’s soft, seductive voice. It’s the way he’d looked at him, the way he’d played. Phil knows he’s still playing. In a minute, he’ll step away, laughing and making fun of Phil for going quiet, for getting just the tiniest bit hard. You’re so easy Phil.

“No making me hard in these trousers, little Phil is suffocating.”

Dan doesn’t laugh. “Just returning the favor.” The unmistakable line of Dan’s hardening cock presses against Phil’s ass and he pushes back into that delicious feeling.

“Oh, you do like them.” He’s trying to sound nonchalant but Dan is squeezing and stroking and grinding and Phil is definitely hard now. He’s slipping into caveman mode. Clinging to the last of his resolve, he clears his throat. “Hold that thought. Let me get out of these.”

“No way, that’s my job.” Dan fumbles for the zipper pull and tugs but nothing happens.

“Unzip them, Dan, it actually hurts a little.”

“I’m trying. It’s stuck.”

“What?!”

“The zipper’s stuck. It won’t pull down.”

Phil swats his hand away and tries but it will not budge. He turns to face Dan. “When did you take your shirt off? And your joggers?”

“I was getting sweaty.” Dan says, stepping back to steal  another look at Phil.. “And I love being naked with you fully clothed, it’s hot.”

It is hot. All sorts of filthy things run through Phil’s mind, right alongside the thought that he’s about to lose a vital organ to asphyxiation.

“Dan, you look fucking edible but if I don’t get these off soon, I’m gonna cry.”

“Okay, okay. I got it.” Dan drops to his knees. This does not help the situation. He tugs and tugs to no avail, then leans forward and grabs the pull with his teeth.

“Are you kidding me, Dan?”

“It’s worth a try!” Dan’s voice is pitched up but then his cheek brushes the straining zipper and they both let out a groan. He does it again, properly nuzzling Phil’s poor captive cock and letting his hand resume it’s exploration.

Phil’s looking down at Dan’s brown eyes through those stupid sexy lashes when he starts kissing down the length of him.

“Dan, stop.” Phil says, deep and breathy.

He slides his mouth back up and the fabric is wet with spit. He pauses. “You want me to stop?”

There’s barely a beat before Phil says, “No. No don’t stop.”

Phil is gripping Dan’s hair and Dan is gripping Phil’s ass, pulling him impossibly close so he can wrap his lips around the head as much as he’s able. He sucks, determined to feel the shape of Phil despite two layers of fabric.

There’s a gasp and Phil’s northern growl comes on strong, “Fuck. Get up here, Dan.”

No sooner are they face to face then their lips crash into one other. It’s wet and eager, all tongue and teeth and frantic breaths. Phil’s fingers dig into the flesh of Dan’s ass, holding him against Phil’s grinding pelvis. His cock pushes at the zipper like a caged animal, like it could actually break free of its cloth prison, hulk style.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Phil says, moving his mouth over Dan neck. It hurts and not in a good way but the need for release is intense and that somehow translates as pleasure. Plus, he’s got Dan, naked and writhing like it’s all brand new, and that is unspeakably hot. He can feel that pretty cock of his trapped between them, working against his own and the thought of Dan’s nipples rubbing the soft, nubby knit of his jumper, it’s too much. He bites down on Dan’s neck, hard.

“Ah. Ahah. Fuck.” Dan sounds wrecked. He turns to face away from Phil and pushes his ass into him, moving against his cock with quick little bounces. Phil is dizzy from the visual and he scratches down Dan’s back in a show of appreciation. Dan hisses just before he practically cries out, “pull my hair!”

Phil can’t help but grin at the request made in Dan’s high pitched, totally gone sex voice. He pushes both hands into Dan’s hair and grabs handfuls. He gasps, his head pulled sharply back. Over his shoulder, Phil can see Dan’s flushed cock bouncing. It’s the cutest fucking cock and it looks so good waving around like that. He needs to touch it, he needs just a little more.

Phil walks them both forward and pushes Dan till he’s bent over, hands on the back of the sofa, knees pushing into the edge of the cushions. He lifts his hand to Dan’s mouth and he licks without hesitation. Phil can reach around now and take Dan in hand, stroking loosely once or twice before setting in to jack him off properly. He’s humping frantically, sliding the hard ridge of his dick between Dan’s ass cheeks, moving like some dog in heat. The thick sound of heavy breathing and wet jacking is soon interrupted by Phil’s uncharacteristic string of expletives.

“Fuck, ow, ow, fuck, fuck, ow, ah, aaaah, fuck.” With one last high pitched moan, he cums, hot and wet, right into his brand new plaid trousers. Dan’s still fucking into Phil’s hand so he reaches his free hand up to yank on his curls and that’s all it takes. He goes still and quiet as he spills over Phil’s fingers.

Slowly, Phil stands, holding his hand carefully so as not to make a mess of the furniture. He reaches down and wipes his hand on Dan’s discarded joggers and then flops down onto the sofa next to him.

“Aw man,” Phil says, looking down, “now I can’t return these.”

“You cheap bastard.” Dan’s eyes are closed, his head resting back, legs spread wide, enjoying the afterglow. “I haven’t even caught my breath.”

“Sorry, they just don’t suit me and they’re faulty.”

“Oh my god, fuck off, I will give you the 50 quid Jesus.” Dan sounds way too blissed out to actually be annoyed.

“50 quid?” Phil says, shocked, “Daniel, what do you take me for?”

They are quiet for a moment.

“They were 65.”

Blindly Dan reaches over, groping for Phil’s zipper. “Ew,” He says, feeling the sog of cooling cum that has soaked through.

Phil hisses, so sensitive after all that torture. Dan futzes with zipper a bit and with more room and less pressure, it opens. Phil sighs a deep, genuine sigh of relief. “Babe. Thank you.”

“Ow,” Dan says, sitting up, “I think you chafed my cheeks.”

“You brought that on yourself. Anyway, no way it compares.” Phil stands up, trousers open. He’s still in shoes so he toes them off and pulls off his jumper. “I’m so gross, come shower with me.”

The hot water is divine. Dan’s ass is a little red and raw so Phil gently washes it with his favorite vanilla body wash.

“I may be stuck with those trousers but I am never wearing them again.”

Dan leans forward onto the shower wall and arches his back, ass on display. He gazes over one shoulder seductively, batting his lashes. “You sure about that, Lester?”

Phil plants a playful smack on Dan’s cute booty, prompting him to turn around. They hold each other, feeling the warm water stream over and between their bodies.

“Okay, I’ll wear them for you but I’m not zipping them up.”

Dan’s voice is sleepy and relaxed as he murmurs in Phil’s ear, “Sounds good to me.”

[a-kayy47]

Learning to live:Chapter 2

So what brings you and the rugrats to Charming?" Tig asked. I knew he wasn't really intrested, he just wanted to know if I was going to be trouble, I won't but my ex might be. "Well, I got tired of my kids sperm donor cheating on me and being a junkie. After 7 years of it, it gets old" I said looking down at my feet and taking deep drags of my cigarette. "Why didn't you leave sooner lass?" Brit's ol'man asked.

"Honestly, I didn't think I deserved better or would ever find anyone who would ever want me." I answered still looking down.

"Fuck that prick! You deserve better babe. You're a damn good momma, you work every fucking day and never do anything for yourself, shit whens the last time you've actually had fun?" Brit asked me.

"Umm...Like real fun? Probably the last party I went to at Uncle Tom's clubhouse when I got arrested." I said looking up with a shit eating grin on my face.

"I wouldn't say getting arrested is fun." A bigger guy with glasses piped in as he walked up to us.

"That's because you've never been arrested with this bitch!" Brit said. "I remember it like it was yesterday. We was 16 and ate shrooms for the first time. And for some reason we thought it would be fun to get payback at some fucking blonde bitch for calling us biker whores and shit so we stole her car and pushed it into the lake!" Britni said laughing reminiscing on the memory. "You pushed a car in a lake and didnt get jail time?" The bigger guy asked again. "Oh that's not why we got arrested!" I said laughing. "Miss let's sneak into the local bar and dance naked on the bar is what got us arrested!" Britni told them still laughing uncontrollably at the memory.

"Yeah, I got public indecency and underage intoxication." I told them "You also tried to blow the cop to get him to let you go!" Britni reminded me. "Fuck, I forgot about that! Hey, at least he was attractive!" I said laughing "Dude he was twice your age!" She replied.

"We used to have so much fun. I miss it so much, all these fuckers want to do is drink till they pass out or bury their face in pussy!" Brit said putting her arm over my shoulder and squeezing.

"Well I haven't had sex since I got pregnant with Rayne and I haven't drank till I passed out since I was 18 so I'm not much fun anymore."

"Well we'll just have to change that! You're a hot peice of ass babe! You gotta get laid!" Brit said smacking my ass.

"Wait, did you just say you haven't had sex since you got pregnant with your girl..shes what like 5?" Tig asked with wide eyes.

"Yepp, she'll be 6 in September."

"But, you're like super hot!" The bigger guy said.

"Well thanks, I'm sorry I didnt catch your name."

"Phil." He told me.

"Well thank you Phil. But a lot of people dont think so, including myself. I still have baby weight to loose and it's been almost 6 years so." I said with a little chuckle.

•Happy's POV•

This chick was crazy! Staying with a dude for 7 years getting cheated on all because she didnt think anybody would want her! And not having sex in 5 years but knowing her boyfriend was out fucking anything with two sets of lips. She deserved better! The sparkle in her eye and the way she laughed while remembering all the fun her and Britni used to have warmed my heart even though I'd never tell anyone that. Everyone deserves to blow off some steam every now and then. Hell if I didnt get too I'd loose my fucking mind! And what the hell was she talking about no one wanting her, fuck I'd take her to my dorm and have my way with her right now! She was perfect! Beautiful face, tattoos lining her arms and hands, long thick black hair that I wanted to wrap my hands in, nice full chest that you could definitely tell was real the way they bounced when she laughed. Light skin with a slight olive undertone, a nice waist with a little belly from having kids, wide child bearing hips with a nice plump ass to match. She was bigger than the girls around here but shit that's what I liked something I could be rough with in bed and not worrying about breaking her. She may be bigger but you could tell she worked out, her ass was nice and firm but still had that fantastic bounce when she walked I could only imagine what it would look like bouncing on my dick. I wanted to find the fucker that ever treated her wrong and make him regret every single time he put his hands on her.

I remembered seeing her at the gas station and couldn't get those beautiful green eyes and plump lips out of his head then to see her pull up her and find out she's staying. By the time it was all said in done I'd have this women and she'd never remember that prick.

●○●○

"Shut the hell up girl! I know you workout everyday!" Brit said pushing my shoulder. "Not everyday, and now I wont be able to since I don't have anywhere to keep up my boxing lessons." I said looking over to check on the kids.

"Happy boxes, he could teach ya a little." Tig said grinning at Happy.

"I'm sure he's busy with other things. I'll just have to stick to walking or jogging then the kids can tag along."I said shrugging it off.

"Be out here tomorrow morning at 8." Happy said which shocked all of us.

"I'll be there, Thanks." I said shyly.

"Alright let's go get you and the kids settled in. I'm sure you have a busy day tomorrow." Britni said breaking the conversation.

"God yes, I have to get the kids enrolled in school and look for a salon and see if they're hiring." I said exhausted just thinking about it.

"Well the school thing I can help with, Tara, Jax' ol'lady can help with that she just enrolled Thomas their youngest. And as for a salon there is only one and it's a barber shop most women go to Oakland to get their hair done but he's a good friend and with some talking to should give you a booth. I know the ladies would love a hairstylist closer home." Britni said filling me in.

●○●○●

After about a 10-minute drive from the TM we arrived at Britni's apartment.  The kids were beyond excited to get settled in somewhere for more than a night, and I couldn’t blame them in all honesty I was too. Brit pulled her Camaro into the garage and I parked by the sidewalk that lead to her  “apartment” as she called it, to me it was just a small house. She walked up to the car and immediately started helping me get things out. The kids had already jumped out and were sitting on the steps that lead up to the porch.

“Just get what ya’ll need tonight and I’ll send someone over tomorrow to help you unload the rest?” She stated opening the back hatch.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that I can get it. I packed it myself.” I replied with a chuckle.

“Don’t argue! Anyways if I didn’t send someone to help Gemma would have my head.” She said with an eye roll.

“Is someone afraid of this Gemma?” I asked with a smirk.

“We all are.” She answered flatly. “Wait till YOU meet her! I’m sure you’ll give her a run for her money!” She said with that smirk of hers that I knew meant trouble.

“Great! Can’t wait!” I said sarcastically grabbing the kids’ bags.

Brit grabbed my bag and led me to the door, unlocking it and entering the house. She had a nice place. As soon as you walked in the door you entered the living room, which she had painted a dark gray with a black leather couch and recliner on one side and a big flat screen TV on the other. The living room led into the kitchen, which had a small island in the middle of both rooms, it was simple black and gray just like Brit. I noticed that there was a door on each side of the living room, which I was guessing was the two bedrooms.

The kids hurried inside and stretched out on the couch and turned on the TV making them selves a home right away. I followed Brit to the door that was on the right side of the living room.

“It’s not much but its better than where you was.” Brit said as she walked in the room and flipped on the light.

 “Anything was better than that! I’ll never be able to repay you, you know that right!” I told her in all seriousness.

“Shut your mouth, you and those babies are all the family I have left, if something would have happened to you I would of lost my mind. I just wish I could have got you out sooner, before the beatings started.” She said low.

“How did you know about that?” I asked looking down at my feet.

“Let’s just say Jamie called me every time you was in the hospital.” She told me.

That boy, I swear he might be quit and keep to himself but he never misses a thing.

“Annie, why didn’t you call me sooner? I would have got you out. I have a whole MC that would have backed me!” She said grabbing me by the shoulders and making me look her in the eyes.

“I was scared, you don’t know how many times I tried, I tried so fucking hard but I could never do it.” I said starting to cry.

“After the last time he put me in the hospital I was done. He really did a number on me that time.” I said lifting up the bottom of my shorts and showing her a scar that went 8 inches across my upper thigh.

“What the fuck Annie!” She asked running her fingers across the scar.

“My shorts were to short for a “Fat Bitch” to wear so he decided that he need to make a permanent mark to show me that my shorts had to be below that line.”

“This is the first time I’ve wore shorts in two years.”

I told her still looking at my feet.

“Babe you are worth so much more than that. Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?” She asked me again.

“I was embarrassed. I was such a strong person before I got with him I didn’t take shit from anyone let alone a man. Then I got with him and it was like I was trapped. I was scared to leave because if he ever found me I was sure he would kill me, and I couldn’t do that to the kids. That’s why I came here, I knew if he finds me here and kills me at least they had you to protect them. I cant let him get my babies..he would destroy them. They’re so innocent and sweet and have such a big heart and he’s so evil he would ruin them.” I rambled to her.

“I’m so sorry Annie, but know you are safe here YOU and those kids. Neither the MC nor me will let anything happen to you. And I promise you we will get the old Annie back! Now lets get you all settled in, you have a busy day tomorrow.” Britni said giving me a longing hug.

We walked out to the living room to see both kids passed out on the couch. I grabbed their blankets from their bag and cover both of them up and them a kiss on the forehead before I went to get ready to go to sleep myself. Britt went over and locked the door “Don’t worry only people that has a key is Chibs and Happy and they shouldn’t be by tonight.” She reassured me. I gave her a nod and told her good night. I went to my room and took off my clothes to change into a big-oversized Harley Davidson shirt and pair panties. I checked my purse for the 9mm that I picked up before we left West Virginia from an old friend. I made sure the mag was filled and out of the gun and laid both in the draw in the nightstand by the bed. The only thing that was going to help me sleep at night is knowing I had something to protect my babies! I laid in bed thinking about everything I had to do tomorrow and drifted off to sleep.

[pizzapartyfanfiction]

The Menagerie chapter 2 part d

The dresses arrived. A beautiful but grim reminder of their service and purpose in this world. Philbin brought them a box with a letter to the from Swan attached.

Waxwing opened her letter. “My dear Waxwing. I'm quite excited that your passion has returned. Would you do me a favor and wear this gown? I'd like to see your hair big and glamorous. Like a country star. I've missed seeing you at Swanage. Let's try to remedy that. - Swan. She sighed. Could she handle another blow to her fragile ego?

Jay opened her letter. ” My fierce and vivacious Jay. You remind me of your brother more and more everyday. Would you grant me a kindness and wear this dress? Should you win we can discuss your wish at Swanage. Hope to see you there.- Swan.”Her chest tightened up. “He always says that...dont get excited.” Jay whispered to herself.

And lastly Starling opened hers. “Oh my sweet, beautiful Starling. Are you nervous? Are you excited? I'm excited to finally see you on stage singing for me. Where you belong. Please wear this gown for me. I had this made custom for you. Perhaps we could attend the opera together and you could wear this? Shh. Don’t tell the others. Wouldn’t it be exciting if your very first Song Day granted you access to Swanage? I do hope so. - Swan.” She sighed. Smiling. He knew how to make her feel like the only woman on earth.

She gasped when she found a crystal Swan bracelet in with her dress. A note was attached to it. ”A little something extra for you. Happy Song Day.”

...

Song Day arrived.

It was heavy...like a weight. Like an ominous cloud was hovering over The Menagerie. Waiting to rain down something tempestuous.

Starling’s phone rang as she was waking up.”Hello.” she said so softly. “Hello, Dear Starling. How are you?” His delivery was smooth as silk. “I'm fine...a bit nervous. I want to make you proud.”

“Oh my, dear little hen. Im already proud as a peacock. I just want to hear you sing. I want to have it on tape and listen over and over.”She blushed. “Oh, Maestro ..” “I’ll let you finish getting ready. Show me your best and be as beautiful as you can. Until today, My Starling.”

She exited the apartment in a robe as she was instructed. She walked down the stairs with Jay and then Waxwing. They were all carrying their dress boxes. All in silk robes with their color on them and a Death Records logo embroidered on the left breast pocket.

They were silent. Starling was hoping they’d be excited like her but it felt ...ritualistic. Phil bin was wating for them. He motioned them to their dressing rooms. Starling sat and sighed. Getting ready.

Song Day was a ritual of sorts. The girl that had been at Swanage would arrive with Swan. She was ready and she sat with him until the end.

Swan sat on a throne in a center stage box. The theatre was filled with seats. Seats that would never be filled. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, a cape and a top hat. He had a notepad and pen on his throne waiting for him. Notes for him to take with each performance

.

Heron was with him. She was dressed in an elaborate yellow gown. Her beautiful coffee toned skin and luxurious black curls set it off so well. Philbin sat to the left. Heron was at the right.

Philbin sat three cages on the table that sat infront of Swan.

A Starling

A Blue Jay

and a Waxwing

were in small gold guided cages. Shaped like the very building they were kept.

From an onlooker this seemed cruel, so very cruel. Like digging a barb into a wound. Rubbing in salt. They were all birds, singing in a cage for their Master’s entertainment. And they were all here for eternity.

The three women walked out on stage. Starling was trying to follow along. Very nervous.

“Good afternoon, My dears. You all look lovely. Let’s sees who gets to sing first. Shall we?” He stepped forward, as did Philbin and Heron.

“Wow...Heron is so beautiful...” Starling whispered to Jay.

“Wait till you hear her sing.” Jay whispered back.

Starling , how we decide who gets to go first is by whichever bird reaches the stage first. Second and third. Heron will close us out. Alright. On my count..one, two , three.” The cafe doors were lifted and the birds flew out towards the stage.

[gii-heylittleangel]

SPN Coda 14x16 - “Don’t Go in the Woods”

Well, this coda ended a little more emotional than I thought it would be, but I blame it mostly on Jensen, Jared and Misha with their video about season 15, which I saw in the middle of the coda and then stared at the cod for like, 15 minutes without knowing what to do and crying. But well, who doesn’t love fluffy Destiel? (At least I do.) 

I hope you all enjoy it.

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

Dean is in his room, sitting on the bed with his back on the headboard, reading Vonnegut, when he hears a knock on his door.

He marks the page he’s on.

“Come in,” he says and Cas enters the room, with a longing look on his face. Dean pats the spot next to him. “What is it, Cas?”

Cas closes the door, takes his shoes, trench coat and suit jacket off, and sits beside Dean. “I think I need some time.”

Dean gets worried immediately. Does Cas needs time for him or from Dean? “Time for what, Cas?”

Cas sighs. “From the bunker.” Dean relaxes a little, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m not used to staying so long in the same place and after everything that happened, I think I need to go out and stretch my legs as you would say.” He gives Dean a small smile.

Dean puts the book on the nightstand and turns to Cas, his body facing him. “I get it, I‘m not used to being cooped up in the same place either. When are you going?”

“Now.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “What? I thought you were saying that because you were thinking about it, but would wait a few days. You should have told me sooner, man.”

“I know, Dean, but I only thought about it today, and I think the sooner I go, the sooner I can come back.”

Dean sighs. “Stay at least tonight, just so I get to miss you less. You can go in the morning.”

“Okay, I think I can do that. But you know I won’t spend too long gone, right? I don’t think you three can survive for long without me.”

Dean smiles and knocks his shoulder on Castiel’s. “I can’t speak for them, but I sure as hell can’t survive without you. Not anymore.”

“I know.” Cas rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

Dean puts his head on top of Cas’s. “Do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you so much that you need to stay away for a while?”

“I guess I just need to think a little. I’m worried about Jack’s soul, about Sam. And wherever I go, I see all those hunters.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I should probably get Sam out a little too. But not on hunts, maybe do something fun. He’s still suffering a lot with everything that happened with Michael and the hunters.”

“Yes, I keep seeing him linger before entering the war room. Maybe you should talk to him about?”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, because I’m just like Dr. Phil, ain’t I? I’m not good with the whole ‘talking about your feelings’ thing, Cas, you know that.”

Cas huffs a little laugh. “Yes, I know. That’s one of the reasons we took so long to be able to be together like we are know.”

“Hey, I don’t remember you coming to me and serenading your feelings either, mister.”

“What would you do if I did that, Dean? You’d probably run. So I think it was best that I didn’t.”

Dean crosses his arms on his chest. “You had to think of a counter argument, didn’t you?”

Cas smiles. “Of course, Dean. That’s how conversation works.”

Dean rolls his eyes, smiling. “Yeah, yeah, I would much rather spend the time kissing you than talking. Those lips weren’t made only for talk.”

“No, they weren’t. They were made so you humans could eat and drink too.”

Dean pokes Castiel ribs. “You’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

Cas just smiles, raising his head and crushing his lips against Dean’s, which shuts him up immediately. They spend most of the night just kissing after that.

****

The next day Dean does his best to keep it together while Cas is getting ready to leave. Cas knows that Dean is still sad about him going away for a while, but he knows that Dean understands him. Before Cas opens the door to go, he sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“You know I’ll be back soon, right?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it easier. Call me, everyday, okay? Or at least send me a text so I know you’re alive and well.”

Cas smiles. “Of course, Dean.”

“Okay, go before I stop you by locking you and me in here until you give up on this idea.”

Cas kisses Dean one last time. “If you need me to come back, call me. I’ll be here as soon as possible.”

Dean gives him a small smile. “Will do.”

Cas stands up and goes, without looking back. As soon as he closes the door, Dean shuts his eyes and lets out a shaky breath, and all the times Cas left him cross his mind.

‘No, this isn’t like those times. He needs some time and he told me he needed it and he’s going to come back. He always does.’ Dean sighs one last time, and relaxes against the pillows, knowing that Cas will be back, as always.

****

After him and Sam talk to Jack, Dean goes out to buy beer. Or at least use it as an excuse to get out of the bunker, which feels empty without Cas there.

When he gets to the liquor store, he pulls out his cell and calls Cas. It takes two rings for him to pick up.

“Hello, Dean.” Dean shivers when he hears Cas’s voice, like he always does.

“Hey, Cas, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. And you? How was the hunt?”

Dean scoffs. “Gross, but at least we got the monster before it killed more people.”

“Well, that’s a good thing. Are you home already?”

“Yeah, but I went out to buy some beer.”

“Of course, I mean, how can you live without beer for at least a day, right?” Dean can hear the smile on Cas’s voice.

“Hey, if I don’t have you here, I at least need beer.”

Cas laughs. “Yes, I noticed.” He stays silent for a few seconds. “How’s Jack and Sam?”

“Well, Jack seems okay and more like himself now. We talked about why we didn’t want him on the hunt and he seemed to understand, so I think that’s progress.” Cas hums his agreement. “Sam still seems pretty shaken up, but I think he’s progressing too. It’ll take some time, but I’m sure he’ll be fine, or at least learn how to live with it.”

“I wish he didn’t need to learn how to live with it, but I guess is just how this life works, right?” Dean agrees. “Well, I’m happy Jack seems like himself again. That’s really good.”

“Yeah, maybe he didn’t use so much of his soul like we thought.”

“Maybe. Dean?”

“Yeah?” He gets out of the car and looks around.

“I’ll be home soon. Maybe in a couple of days.”

Dean smiles. “I really hope so. Sam’s dying without you.”

Cas laughs. “I’m certain he is. Tell him that when I come back, I’m going to stay next to him so much that he’ll get tired of me.”

Dean sees the kids that they met when they found the pearl, and when he waves, the three of them run in the other direction. Okay, then, not strange at all. “I’ll pass the message on, Cas.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dean.”

“Okay, Cas. Let me know when you’re coming home.”

“Will do.” He finishes the call and Dean stays for a few moments staring at his phone with a smile on his face, wondering why the hell it took him so long to confess his feelings, but he’s happy he did.

[fluffyseapancakes]

With a Little Help from Best Friends

This fic is definitely lengthy (almost 3,000 words!) and the tickle scenes aren’t that long, but I wrote this because I’m aching for friends right now and writing this was my way of coping. I apologize for grammatical/spelling errors and if I got the British terminology wrong, this fic was written when I was sad and lonely and I didn’t really pay attention to the technical parts of it. If you read this entire fic, thank you. If you just skimmed through it or skipped it, that’s completely understandable. So here goes...

Your family disowned you right before the holidays so your best friend Dan Howell invited you to his and Phil Lester’s place for Christmas. You realized that you were living your family’s dreams the whole time so you dropped out of uni and started a career as a YouTuber. Your best friends gave you endless support and love, and they made Christmas truly a magical holiday. (TRIGGER WARNING: homophobia and mention of suicidal thoughts) 

_______________________________________________

You and Dan have been friends since primary school. At first you thought he was weird and quiet, but after he helped you clean up after some bullies threw orange juice at you, you two have been inseparable. University had split you and Dan apart for a while, but you always texted him about the kid who picked his nose sitting in front of you or the horribly boring professor in physics. Dan shortly quit university and moved to a flat in London then created his YouTube channel. The channel blew up quickly and the more subscribers he got, the prouder you were of your best friend. When Dan hit a million subscribers, you screamed with joy and immediately called him and congratulated him a dozen times. Somewhere along the way Dan made a friend named Phil Lester and they became flatmates, they made dozens of videos together and you were happy that Dan had another good friend that he could count on. You two still texted each other everyday and Skyped at least once a week, Phil often joined in the Skype sessions and the three of you instantly became close.

“Fine I won’t come home this week mum, at least I have better things to do than be a miserable witch,” you angrily hung up and threw your cellphone on the dormitory bed. Tears fell down your face and you held back a sob. You heard the faint sound of your cellphone ringing and you grabbed it.

“What?” You snapped, not even checking the caller ID to see who it was.

“Y/N it’s Dan, did you tell your mum?” Dan’s familiar voice calmed you down but the tears kept on running.

“She told me not to come home,” you mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady, “she said I was a disappointment.”

“Oh Y/N…you should come stay with me and Phil this Christmas! Fuck your family if they don’t accept who you are, we’ll be your family,” Dan’s voice was soft and comforting, you knew he was concerned about you by his tone. You looked out the window and saw snow falling heavily on the ground. The room next to you was playing Christmas music and the realization that you were alone for the holidays hit you. You let out a sob and crumbled on the floor, letting yourself cry freely and you curled up on the ground that was covered in a layer of dust and hair.

“I’m all alone Dan,” you sobbed, “I’m a fucking failure, I should just die.” “Y/N,” his voice got louder and firm, “I’m buying you a train ticket to London. You are coming to stay with us and we are going to have a great time. If you hurt yourself I wouldn’t know what to do,” you heard his voice waver for a second, “the day you finish exams you are coming here.”

“I don’t have time to get you two presents,” you cried, clutching the floor rug into your chest.

Dan laughed, “That’s what you’re upset about? Y/N you don’t need to get us gifts, seeing you is more than enough.”

You wiped your tears away with the rug and smiled softly, you haven’t met Phil in person before and you were dying to see both him and Dan. London will be fun, you thought to yourself.

“My last exam is in three days, you better stock up on eggnog.”

…

London was a busy and loud city, hoards of people pushed you out of the way as you navigated your way to the Starbucks where you were meeting Dan and Phil. You got yourself a hot chocolate and miraculously found a quiet corner with comfy couches. You weren’t used to being in the city so you anxiously looked around, gripping the hot cup with both hands and your legs bounced up and down.

“Y/N!” You looked up and saw your best friend looking down on you with a goofy smile.

“Dan!” You squealed and immediately ran into his arms. He was more than a foot taller than you and you sighed in his warm embrace. After a few moments you two stepped away and you took a good look at Dan. It’s been a couple years since you last saw him and you noticed he stopped straightening his hair and he had filled into his body, making him look more like a man than a kid.

“Y/N this is Phil,” a man stepped out from behind Dan. He was slightly taller and had jet black hair, his eyes were bluer than you recalled seeing from the computer screen and he had a shy smile on his face.

“Hiya Phil!” You gave him a hug and you heard Phil laugh, he hugged you back tightly and warmly.

“I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you!” Phil looked at you and grinned, “you’re shorter than I thought.”

“Hey!” You laughed.

The three of you sat on the couches and talked for a while, you completely lost track of time. Dan and Phil also got hot chocolates and got you a cookie to nibble on.

“We should probably head back home,” Phil looked at his phone and out the window. It was starting to get dark and the vehicles outside had their headlights on.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Dan got up and grabbed your luggage despite your protests, “maybe we can order pizza tonight and watch some anime.”

You smiled and followed the men out the door, “I vote for Free!”

Where you went to school everyone either drove or rode scooters because everything was so far away. Your legs were definitely not used to walking as you desperately tried to match Dan and Phil’s freakishly long strides. They were chatting about their tour coming up and the release of their book, you smiled sadly to the realization that they had accomplished so much in a few years and you have achieved nothing in the same amount of time. You were, of course, happy for Dan and Phil but you felt like you were a failure compared to them.

“Um excuse me, are you Dan and Phil?” The three of you turned around to see a young schoolgirl and her friend nervously looking at the men.

“Yeah we are! Do you watch our videos?” Phil smiled kindly at them and motioned them to come closer.

“We’re huge fans, we’re coming to your tour in London,” her friend shyly smiled, “could we take a picture?”

“Of course!” Dan laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, “you caught us on a good hair day!”

You took a couple pictures of Dan and Phil and the young girls, their cheeks were bright red from excitement and they thanked you as you handed them their phones back. The men happily said goodbye and the three of you resumed the trek back to their flat.

“Do fans recognize you often?” You asked, trying to hide the fact that you were softly panting from physical exertion.

“Sometimes, they’re all super nice though,” Phil shrugged, “we’re recognized more often in the States.”

“The hardest part is when we’re busy or in a bad mood,” Dan added, “we try not to be mean but it happens.”

You nodded and quietly walked alongside them. You didn’t realize how popular Dan and Phil were, you knew they had a lot of subscribers but it was like they were a celebrity status.

“Here we are,” Dan and Phil stopped in front of a pretty nice complex and they unlocked the door. You followed them up the stairs into their flat, there was a cute houseplant in the corner by the door.

“Welcome to our palace!” Phil cheerfully led you in and the first thing you noticed was another larger houseplant across the hallway. Dan and Phil gave you a short tour of their flat, you noticed they had hidden little toys everywhere and scented candles decorated every flat surface. They had a fancy gaming room that you recognized from DanandPhilGames and their bedrooms were small but comfortable.

“Let’s order some pizza,” Dan opened his laptop once they were in the living room and he sunk into his spot on the couch.

“Y/N did not come all the way here to eat Domino’s pizza, we have to order Chinese from that one famous place,” Phil poked Dan’s belly, making him yelp and jump. The older man grinned and tweaked his sides, Dan screeched and curled up on the couch, his dimple was more noticeable as he laughed loudly.

You suddenly remembered the tickle fights you two had as kids, Dan screamed more than he laughed and he would curl into a ball. The taller and bigger he got, the more often you fell victim to his torture. You smiled and walked over to Phil, you put your thumbs on Dan’s hipbones.

“You’re getting the wrong spots Phil, this is where Dan goes nuts,” you drilled your thumbs into his hipbones, Dan screamed even louder and desperately tried to grab your hands, he was laughing out incomprehensible pleas of mercy. You laughed and gave him mercy as Dan lay on the couch, whimpering and giggling.

“So Chinese?” You grinned up at Phil.

……

“Wake up Y/N it’s Christmas!” You slowly opened your eyes to a grinning Dan looking down at you.

“What time is it?” You groaned and crawled deeper into the covers. While you were visiting, Dan insisted on having you sleep in his bed while he crashed on the couch. At first you felt guilty about it but you and Dan knew that you would have struggled with sleep if you were on the couch. “I can sleep anywhere,” Dan had proudly said. You knew he was right so now you were snuggled comfortably in his bed.

“7 in the morning!” Dan chirped and suddenly grabbed the duvet and ripped it off of you.

“Dannn!” You whined as you felt the cold air hit your skin, you curled up into a ball and whimpered.

“Oh stop being such a drama queen,” your best friend reached over and grabbed one of your ankles, he wiggled his blunt nails against the sole of your foot. You squealed and kicked, except Dan grabbed your other foot and he tickled the soles of your feet. You bucked and squealed with laughter, desperately trying to kick off Dan. He held on tight and kept up with his torment.

“I’ll get up!” You screamed with laughter and hit your fists on the mattress.

“Good,” Dan grinned and stopped tickling you, you quickly pulled in your feet and giggled. You got up from bed and followed Dan into the living room. The three of you have decorated the tree the night before and the ornaments looked beautiful as the sun hit them perfectly. Underneath the tree was a small pile of gifts stacked underneath. Phil was already standing by the tree nursing a cup of coffee in his hands, he smiled when he saw you two come in and he waved, “Merry Christmas Y/N!”

“Merry Christmas,” you smiled and sat on the couch, you nodded towards the presents, “are they from your family?”

“Some of them, there are a few here for you too,” Dan handed you a small present. You immediately knew Phil had wrapped it by the numerous pieces of tape and questionable wrapping skills. “This one is from us.”

“You guys, I can’t take this. You already have done so much for me,” you felt your eyes water a little but you quickly blinked it away.

“Oh shut up, we got you a gift so open it,” Dan laughed and pushed the present into your hands. You slowly ripped open the package and unwrapped a small camera.

“It’s one of my older vlogging cameras from a few years ago, you always said you wanted to open a YouTube channel so we were hoping this will help you out,” Phil sat down next to you and gave you a small hug, “the quality’s great and it works perfectly.”

You looked at the camera in your hands and you smiled, “Thank you, this is really going to help me start my channel.”

“You can vlog about university and talk about your classes,” Dan suggested, grabbing another gift from under the tree.

“I…I don’t think I’m going back to uni,” you sighed, “the whole uni thing was my parents’ idea. But now that they don’t want to talk to me, why should I go back?” You shrugged and looked at Dan and Phil, “I’m thinking about moving to London, but it’s expensive so I need a roommate and a job.”

“Hey,” Dan sat on your other side so you were sandwiched between the two men, “we’ll help you out in anyway we can.”

“Yeah,” Phil rubbed your back, “we can do a collab to bring traffic to your channel and we can teach you how to edit and stuff. We might have friends who are looking for roommates too.”

“Thanks you guys,” you leaned into Dan’s shoulder, “that means a lot to me.”

Christmas for you was bittersweet, but you were more than thankful to have such wonderful friends supporting you. You watched Dan and Phil open up their presents and you thought about the huge changes you were making in your life. You were scared and nervous but also excited and filled with hope.

…

Dan and Phil made videos quite regularly, especially on their gaming channel. At first they refused to work while you were there, but you insisted on them working so they don’t disappoint their fans. Usually you just sat in the living room with your laptop watching Netflix while sounds of laughter and screams leaked through the walls. Today they were filming some kind of Would You Rather game and very quickly you heard yelling and protests. You became curious and walked over to the gaming room, you put your ear against the door and listened to them talking.

“I choose neither!” Phil yelled, laughing awkwardly.

“You have to choose one!” Dan was laughing uncontrollably.

“I don’t want to be tickled by Edward Scissorhands or be tickled by spiders,” Phil moaned.

You grinned and slowly opened the door. Was this going to ruin a part of their video? Maybe. Is it going to be worth it? Oh hell yes.

“Or you can be tickled by me,” you bursted into the room, Dan screamed in surprise and you quickly latched onto Phil’s sides and squeezed them. Phil squealed and laughed, he desperately tried to grab your hands but you were too quick for him. You tickled the older man’s belly, sending him into hysterics. Dan watched you two in amusement and shook his head, laughing.

“N-no!” Phil shrieked as you shoved your hands in his underarms and tickled mercilessly.

“Y/N, Phil’s gonna piss his pants if you don’t stop,” Dan chuckled. You smiled and stopped your torture on the poor man. Phil sat in his chair panting for breath, giggling. You quickly left the room in case Phil came back for revenge.

…

It was the last night with Dan and Phil, you sat on the couch and browsed online for flats to rent. All of them were way above your price range and the only jobs available in the area were food service and retail jobs. You sighed and closed your eyes. I’m going to be homeless at this rate.

“What’chya thinking about?” You opened your eyes and saw Dan standing by the couch looking concerned. You moved over and patted the empty spot next to you, Dan sat down and you turned to look at him.

“I’m broke with no job and no place to live because my parents are homophobic pieces of shit, Dan I have no place to go after this,” you rubbed your eyes in frustration and groaned, “I should have found a place to live before I withdrew from uni.”

“Actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about Y/N,” Dan rubbed your back, “me and Phil would like you to stay here until you find a place to live. We’ll have you in our videos to help out your channel and we’ll show you how to film and edit, it’ll be like a YouTuber bootcamp,” he laughed, “once your channel grows and you make money, you can afford a flat.”

“Seriously?” You looked at Dan in disbelief, “you and Phil have already done so much for me, I can’t have all of this for nothing.”

“Well some help with chores and cooking is great,” he looked into your eyes, “I know uni was miserable for you and I want you here safe and happy.”

You rushed into Dan’s arms and he hugged you tight and gently stroked your hair.

“You’re my best friend Y/N, I’m not letting you crash and burn by yourself,” he whispered.

“Thanks Dan,” you relaxed in his embrace.

You knew being a YouTuber was going to take lots of work and effort, and some of Dan and Phil’s fans were not going to be happy with a female presence, but you knew eventually everything was going to be ok. After the talk with Dan you went into his bedroom and sat on his bed. You took out the video camera and turned it on, taking a deep breath, you raised the camera to your face. You looked into the lens and pressed the record button.

“Hey guys,” you smiled and waved awkwardly, “welcome to my channel.”

[trash-on-wheels-blog]

THE BIBLE SAYS (I can’t get a header for some reason, sorry)

Genre: Smuttt

Contains: Mentions of religion (Christianity), blowjobs, anal sex, masturbation, voyeurism?, top!phil, bottom!dan, pet names

Note: Sorry if this sucks. I’ve been writing this throughout a few sleepless nights, so I apologize for mistakes, and yes, I know I use the names Dan and Phil a lot. I could’ve found other names instead of repeating them, but eh ya know. Anyways, enjoy!

Summary: Phil isn’t very religious, but Dan is. When Phil invited Dan over to his house, they might not exactly follow the word of God.

Phil never liked school. The discipline, the subjects, the other students, the work, none of it. But his parents made him move to a new school last year.

One with more discipline, an extra few subjects, more annoying students, and stacks of work... St. Elizabeth’s Christian Academy. Yep. A Christian school.

Phil wasn’t very religious, but his family was, and they thought it’d be good for him to get closer to his faith and all that crap. There was one good thing about this school though. Dan Howell. Dan was just perfect in every way, in Phil’s eyes. There was his brown, curly hair, swept to the side, out of the way of his work. His small frame, making most clothes slip off his shoulder occasionally.

And god, his body. Yes, St. Elizabeth’s is a Christian school, but the faculty believes that students should be allowed to be whoever they want to be; within the dress code of course. That meaning that Dan could wear a girl’s uniform, complete with the skirt and high socks. He was also on the cheerleading squad, always sporting a tiny blue and gold skirt and tight, clingy top.

As Dan decided to adorn himself with skirts that barely pass the dress code and nice pastel bows in his hair, Phil decided to go for a darker look. He still wore the uniform, but his hair was black and pushed into a quiff. He never wore the school jacket, instead he got away with a leather jacket. Phil had a few tattoos tucked away under his shirt, but a few poked out. The few Dan started to take a notice to.

Dan was very serious about his studies. He was brought up in a very religious family, much like Phil. However, Dan actually liked being apart of it. Dan couldn’t stop himself from gazing at the tall, punk boy. He knew it was wrong, to feel this way about another boy, but he couldn’t help it. Phil played it off like Dan’s staring was normal and it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal. Dan had to be his.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Phil shuffled up to Dan putting his Bible away.

“H-hey, uh, hey,” Phil mumbled out. Dan whipped around to the smooth voice, already knowing who it was.

“Uh hi,” Dan squeaked out, slightly intimidated by Phil’s stance, but also kind of turned on.

“I’m Philip Lester, Phil for short.”

“I know who you are,” Dan stated, instantly regretting it. Phil chuckled from behind him. “I’m Daniel Howell, Dan for short.”

“I know who you are,” Phil smirked, sending a blush to Dan’s face. “I was wondering if you’d wanna come over to my place.”

Phil was making this very straight forward, but he couldn’t wait much longer. Seeing Dan everyday and not being able to call him his was driving him mad.

“Umm, yeah, uh, sure,” Dan grinned.

“Great. Ready to go then?”

“Yep, lets go,” Dan said, swiftly leading Phil out the door, his skirt barely lifting to reveal white lace.

Phil almost choked when he saw that. Nice little religious Howell... wearing panties?

They walked out to Phil’s car, not having to worry about Dan’s, as he took the bus. It was mostly silent on the way to Phil’s house, but his hand stayed glued to Dan’s thigh, begging to inch closer to the pleated plaid covering the beautiful white lace.

They both were kind of surprised at how easily this was going. Phil literally just walked up to Dan and now they’re a few blocks away from Phil’s house.

They pulled up outside a decently sized house. The front garden was well kept and a statue of some saint was in the center. Phil unlocked the door and motioned Dan inside. The decor was very nice, more religious than Dan would’ve thought, knowing Phil’s apathetic attitude towards Christianity.

Phil led Dan upstairs and to a door with band stickers on it, along with one that said “WWJD... What Would Jesus Do.” It was torn and scratched, an obvious attempt to take it off. This must be Phil’s room. His room was neat, apart from the scattered papers and books, one being a Bible, to which Dan picked up and placed on the desk.

“Want anything to drink?” Phil asked.

“No I’m good, thank you,” Dan replied.

Dan sat on the corner of Phil’s bed, smoothing out his skirt and crossing his ankles. Phil plopped down next to him, looking at his phone.

“Umm, not to be rude, but uh, why did you invite me over? It’s not like we really know each other,” Dan asked, turning to face Phil more.

That was true. They didn’t know each other that well. All Dan knew about Phil was that he wasn’t very religious, but very attractive. All Phil knew about Dan was that he was very religious, but also very attractive.

“Oh, uh yeah. Well, I thought we could get to know each other better. After all the staring you do,” Phil smirked, dropping his phone on the bedside table.

“What? I don’t stare at you,” Dan choked.

“I didn’t say you stared at me,” Phil said, enjoying Dan’s flustering.

Phil moved his hand to Dan’s knee, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Dan’s heart thumped in his chest. He quickly stood up and walked to the end of the bed.

“We can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Phil asked, standing up as well.

“You know what. It’s wrong. The Bible says so.”

“Actually, not true. But even if it did, wouldn’t God want his most favorite creations to enjoy themselves?”

Phil had him there. Before Dan had time to reply, Phil was extremely close, one hand on Dan’s waist, the other lifting to Dan’s cheek.

“I do want to get to know you, Dan. Very much so. But dammit, you’re so beautiful,” Phil whispered, running his thumb along Dan’s cheek bone. “I can’t handle seeing you in those skirts, all the guys looking at you. They want you. But not as much as I do.”

Dan’s breath was caught in his throat. As if he wasn’t running out of air already, Phil leaned in and pressed his lips to Dan’s. Dan should pull away. He knows it, but he finds himself staying in the same position, melting more into Phil’s touch. Dan’s fingers intertwined in Phil’s hair, lightly pulling on the ends.

Phil moved his hand down to the hem on Dan’s skirt, lightly pushing it up, slipping his hand towards Dan’s growing erection. Phil dipped his fingers into the waistband of Dan’s panties, snapping them back, making Dan squeak into Phil’s mouth.

“Who’s the lace for, kitten?” Phil breathed. “You put on this charade as this pure, Christian boy. Do you wear these pretty panties all the time? While you stretch yourself out? Huh, baby?”

Dan knew sex before marriage was wrong, as is homosexuality, but Phil did have a point about it not being technically true in the Bible. However, Dan did masturbate, quite often to the thought of Phil’s tattooed body on top of him. Dan let out a moan at the image.

Phil spun them around and pushed Dan onto the bed, unbuckling his pants and pulling off his shirt. He dove down on top of Dan, moving his body up to meet Dan’s mouth, bringing the skirt up with him. Phil pulled Dan up, slipping of his shirt.

He flipped Dan’s skirt up to reveal Dan’s dick poking out of the lace. Phil palmed Dan while slipping his tongue into Dan’s mouth. All of Dan’s moans were capturing in Phil’s mouth and swallowed. Phil slowly moved down Dan’s body, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses. He stopped to lap at Dan’s nipples, to which Dan arched his back and let out a few moans.

Phil continued down, avoiding the place Dan needed him. Instead, he went along Dan’s hip and down to his thighs, spreading Dan’s legs. Dan lifted off the bed, so Phil could peel off his panties, tossing them somewhere in the room. Dan’s erection sprung up, leaving a bit of pre cum on his skirt.

Phil finally licked a bold stripe from Dan’s base to the tip, savoring the taste of his pre cum. Dan’s fingers laced into Phil’s hair once again, but the pleasure was too good to be gentle while pulling at the roots. Phil took Dan all in his mouth, sinking down to the lowest he could go. Dan was in pure ecstasy to say the least. Phil bobbed his head up and down, pumping what couldn’t fit with his hand.

Dan pushed Phil’s shoulders, signaling for him to stop. Before Phil could ask what was wrong, Dan flipped them over and was now working on removing Phil’s boxers.

“I’ve never done this before, so I’m sorry if I disappoint you,” Dan said, ogling at Phil’s size.

“It’s ok, pretty boy. You’ll do great,” Phil said, running his hand down Dan’s face.

Dan took a deep breath and tried to take as much as Phil as possible. He got about half way down when he gagged, pulling back up and looking at Phil, expecting to see regret or dissatisfaction on his face.

“It’s ok, Dan. Hallow your cheeks and breathe through your nose. You’re doing fantastic,” Phil encouraged.

Dan took another breath and leaned back down, following Phil’s instructions. He actually got farther down this time, beginning to slowly come back up and down. Phil gasped at how quickly Dan was learning. Dan found a steady pace and swirled his tongue around the head whenever he got high enough. Phil’s breathing quickened and his moans became more frequent, a sign to Dan that Phil was going to come soon. He pulled off, reluctantly to his and Phil’s liking, but he wanted Phil now.

“I want you to watch me,” Dan stated, leaning back on his heels.

Phil propped himself further up against the headboard. He reached into the bedside drawer and fished out a bottle of lube, tossing it to Dan. Dan popped the lid and smothered three fingers. He inserted one finger, throwing his head back as he worked himself.

Phil’s eyes were glued to him, and it took everything in him to not move. Dan pushed in a second finger, scissoring himself, and moaning louder. Beads of sweat were dripping down his face, eyes screwed shut.

He heard Phil’s panting and glanced at him. Phil had his hands behind his back, trying very hard to not touch himself or Dan. Dan finally pushed in the third finger, gasping at the fullness and hitting his prostate.

“Hmm ugh, Phil!” Dan moaned.

Phil couldn’t take it anymore. He pounced forward and replaced Dan’s fingers with his own, flipping them over. After a few pumps, he pulled his fingers out and circled Dan’s hole as he searched for a condom in the drawer. He slid the condom onto his length and leaned down, placing a kiss on Dan’s neck, making him squirm.

“Are you ready, kitten?” Phil asked, searching Dan’s eyes for any sign of hesitation.

“Yes. Please. Fuck me! Fuck me till I can’t walk! Please, Daddy!” Dan screamed.

Being called Daddy was like a drug that only Dan could administer.

“Call me that again,” Phil grunted.

“Daddy! Please fuck me! I need your cock inside me!”

Phil moaned as he pushed into Dan. Dan gripped Phil’s arms and threw his head back, a flow of moans and noises coming out of his mouth.

“Fuck, baby. Make Daddy feel so damn good,” Phil praised, earned a high-pitched moan from Dan.

Phil had a steady pace, but it wasn’t fast enough for Dan.

“Harder! Harder, Daddy!”

Phil looked into Dan’s eyes. They were darker than usual and full of lust, probably like Phil’s are. Phil thrusted in and out of Dan as fast as he could, hitting Dan’s prostate every time.

Moans were spewing out of both of their mouths. Phil buried his face in Dan’s neck, lightly kissing around, a larger contrast from what was happening farther down their bodies.

“D-Daddy! I’m gonna c-come!” Dan yelled, digging his nails into Phil’s biceps.

“Me too, kitten,” Phil gasped out, throwing his head back, but quickly lifting it back up. “Look at me when you come.”

Dan pried his eyes half way open, but being able to see Phil’s face. Phil reached down and pumped Dan’s cock, thrusting in and out at a quick pace. The headboard was slamming against the wall, most likely making a dent and chipping the paint, but Phil didn’t care.

“Daddy!” Dan moaned, coming on his chest and Phil’s hand.

Phil continued to push in and out of Dan, chasing his orgasm and riding Dan through his.

“F-Fuck, baby. Gonna come. Make Daddy feel so fucking good,” Phil gasped.

Phil burst into the condom and thrusted a few more times before coming down from his high. He pulled out of Dan and took off the condom, tying it and tossing it in the bin. Both boys layed there, catching their breaths. After a few minutes, Phil finally spoke.

“Wow. That was uhh...”

“Amazing,” Dan finished.

Phil rolled over to meet Dan’s warm, brown eyes.

“Yeah. Amazing,” Phil smiled, hair sticking to his forehead. “Do-Do you regret it?”

“Not for a second,” Dan grinned, scooching closer to Phil.

He placed a kiss on Phil’s lips.

“Look, I know that you’re really religious. I’m sorry if this made you uncomfortable and you never want to talk again. But I had a great time, nonetheless,” Phil said.

“Like you said. God wants us to be happy. And I’m happy right here. I had a great time too. I’d like to do it again sometime maybe?” Dan asked, squinting one eye closed, waiting for a response.

“I’d love to do it again. Maybe as something more than acquaintances though?” Phil chuckled.

“Ha, yeah. I’d love that even more.”

Dan put his head on Phil’s chest and Phil wrapped his arm around Dan, pulling him closer. He kissed Dan on the top of his head, noticing he was already passed out.

Phil quietly reached over and grabbed a few tissues, wiping off Dan’s cum from his hand and Dan’s chest, then tossed it away.

Phil breathed a sigh of content, finally happy with Daniel Howell. His Daniel Howell.

[rhysie-cakes314]

Day 5- Amulet

Amora eyed the matching medallions dubiously, each dangling from a thin chain necklace.. “You’re certain these are the real deal?”

The old woman’s smile was missing several teeth, and Amora wasn’t certain how the woman seemed to stare right at her when her eyes were the milky white of the Midgardian blind, but she was confident in her response. “Not many mortals are left who would recognize the Amulets of Damballah. You needn’t worry about knock-off replicas. These are suitable for your needs.”

Amora searched the priestess’ body language for signs of deception, but found none. She would know, being a master of deceit herself. “I met Damballah myself, once. I thought his specialty was death, that he only worked with necromancers. How will a tool meant for the undead help me when the man is alive?” Madame whatever-her-name-was (Amora didn’t care) may be the expert in human Voodoo here, but Amora knew her gods.

The priestess threw her head back, cackling. “I have my own abilities, Enchantress. Those amulets will work on the dead and living all the same, now.”

Amora allowed herself to grin. It was time she finally got what she wanted.

…  

Natasha was perched on the edge of the kitchen counter beside the coffee machine. “I like your new necklace,” she commented as Thor entered the room. Natasha always took a keen interest in Thor’s fashion, so she noticed any tiny changes in his everyday appearance. One of her favourite pastimes was playing dress up and makeover with Thor, partially because he was the only one who let her, and partially because it was just so entertaining. His massive demigod body managed to look good in everything from speedo to ballgown. It was also no secret that his hair was the most luscious of the group, which allowed for a myriad of experimentation for style.

Steve was off on his morning run, Phil was out of town for a mission, and Clint and Bruce were still in bed, so Tony was the only one else in the room. He lifted his head off his arms to see who she was talking to and quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you liked jewelry. This opens a whole new world of possibilities for Christmas gifts.”

Thor grinned proudly. He headed for the poptart cupboard. “My beautiful lady, Jane Foster gave it to me. She said it was a symbol of our undying love, and she has a matching one. I will cherish it with all of my being.”

Now that he was closer, Natasha could see the details. The medallion matched the shade of gold that draped around Thor’s neck, and a snake was the only decoration. “Is Dr. Foster into snakes?”

Thor looked thoughtful for a moment. “She has never mentioned them, but I suppose she must! I thought maybe the snake was a Midgardian symbol of companionship I was unaware of.”

Tony’s head had dropped back down to his arms already, but he shook with laughter. Natasha threw a butter knife at his head. “Ow! No throwing my own silverware at me. I will terminate your lease. Don’t you test me.”

She didn’t look worried. “You never gave us leases. Don’t make fun of Thor if you don’t want punished.”

Tony rubbed at his head. Thor laughed his booming laugh. The sound always felt too loud in the enclosed kitchen, or indoors in general, really. Tony tried to hide the fact that it startled him by jumping up for more coffee. “I believe he was laughing with me.”

Natasha shrugged. “I think that was very sweet of Jane. How is she lately?” The astrophysicist sometimes came to live with them for months at a time, but it had been awhile. It was as sporadic a living arrangement as Thor, who whisked off to Asgard or landed in the roof without warning.

“She fairs well. She is giving a speech at an important conference next month.” Natasha sometimes tried to imagine what the relationship was like between a scientist and a god. The idea just seemed so alien. The two seemed to both be obsessed with other worlds or realms, so she supposed that could be what they shared most. But can a human really understand a centuries old warrior-king?

“I’ll have to see if I’m going to that, I’m sure Pepper will know. Maybe I can get you an invitation, buddy,” Tony pat Thor’s bicep. “I’m off to the lab now, seeya later, probably,” he shouted over his shoulder. It was that time of year again. The Avengers all knew by now that seeing Tony at all was a rare occurrence in October. The man practically worked non-stop for a month straight.

Steve returned with a light sheen of sweat. Natasha noticed he always seemed to run harder October mornings. He also exercised more in general. Her theory was that Steve needed to let off extra steam and distract himself more constantly to ward off feeling lonely while Tony was squirreled away in his lab. The supersoldier usually had unfettered access to Tony’s domain and spent hours just watching the genius work or sketching him, but not in October. Tony had forbid him because his ‘ass was too distracting.’

“Captain!” Thor welcomed. “We should spar today, it has been too long.”

Steve chuckled. “We just sparred last week! But sure, lord knows I’ve got time. Meet down there in an hour? I need some calories.” He was already raiding the refrigerator, pulling out an egg carton, bacon, and orange juice.

“A week can be an eternity when excitement is missing from your life,” Thor said mysteriously. He passed Bruce on the way out.

Bruce waved his greetings, heading straight for the tea. The group sat in companionable silence while Steve made his feast. Bruce liked to read the newspaper in the mornings. Tony kept trying to explain that a physical paper was a waste and called printing presses obsolete, but Bruce liked the feel of it. He could control the pace with which he absorbed the news instead of feel overwhelmed by the fast talking reporters on TV. Plus he liked the crosswords.

When Steve went down to the gym, Thor was already there. Steve looked at him from the doorway, curious. He looked like he was meditating. His body was still, his eyes closed. It was odd; Steve didn’t think Thor could be still. He was always so energetic. His eyes snapped open, and Steve felt the blush at being caught staring. Thor didn’t mention it though, just hopped to his feet excitedly. “Come, let us battle!”

Steve shook his head fondly. Thor brought enthusiasm to everything he did. “Only if you think you can take me,” he joked.

“I’ll go easy,” Thor boasted. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get injured.”

Thor was decidedly not going easy. The serum meant that Steve could hold up against Thor better than the others, minus Hulk, but Thor was fighting with more ferocity than usual. Steve narrowly dodged another blow, thankful they were fighting bare-handed. Even with the shield, Steve was sure Thor could hurt him with Mjolnir if he wasn’t careful. He managed a kick to Thor’s side before rolling away again. His best strategy with the god was always to stay out of reach.

“I thought,” pant, “we were just,” pant, parry, “sparring.”

Thor backed off a little, slowing his movements while they spoke. “We are.”

Steve danced around him, trying to find an opening. “You seem like you’re going harder than usual,” he was concocting a strategy. Thor always turned right to spin if you got behind him. If Steve could get him to go for the turn and manage to roll and pop up in front of his left, Thor would be wide open. He’d have to be very fast. Speed was his friend against a bigger opponent.

It had to be Steve’s imagination, but Thor seemed to sneer at him. Thor didn’t sneer. “I play to win.”

Suddenly wary that something was wrong with his teammate, Steve decided it was time to be done with this. He had a feeling Thor wouldn’t just let him bow out either. He leapt behind the god, and took action when Thor started to turn. He popped up to see Thor face to face with him. He had seen through the ploy.

Thor took advantage of Steve’s surprise and landed a solid gut punch. Steve actually left the ground momentarily before slamming into the mirror behind him. Some of the glass trickled away around him as he tried to regain the breath knocked out of him. Thor drew closer, but instead of kneeling to apologize or ask if he was okay, Thor smacked his head back against the wall. The world went dark.

…

The silence was deafening and sudden after the blasting metal from a moment ago. Tony looked around in confusion. “Sir, Steve has been injured in the gym while sparring with Thor,” JARVIS informed him.

Tony didn’t ask questions. If JARVIS felt the need to alert him, it wasn’t just a minor injury. The elevator was fast enough to throw him off balance but he remained upright. When he arrived, Natasha and Clint weren’t far behind. The scene in front of him didn’t make sense. Steve was sitting against the mirror, chin against his chest, clearly unconscious. Behind him, Tony could make out the blood smeared on the wall from his head.

Tony didn’t even notice Thor, too busy sprinting to his boyfriend’s side. Thor waited patiently off to the side, until Tony was on his knees trying to wake Steve. Natasha and Clint were too far away to stop the god.

“Tony, watch out!” Clint cried.

Tony whipped around just in time to get suckerpunched. He felt his nose break and was lying on the ground. The room spun. What was happening? He tried to lift his head, but something was in the way. He was choking. Tony blinked hard and Thor came into focus above him. But it couldn’t be Thor. His supposed friend was expressionless as he waited for Tony to stop fighting.

“It has to be an imposter, JARVIS! Scan him, who is it!?” Natasha shouted as she managed to tackle Thor away from Tony’s prone form. Tony coughed and sputtered, thankfully not dead.

“According to my scans, it is Thor. I have no explanation,” JARVIS sounded as afraid as a program could.

Clint cursed, “Shit.” He had Thor/not-Thor in a full nelson, but he was too strong to be immobilized. Natasha hit him in the head with a weight to no effect. “Where the fuck is the Hulk!? He can actually do something against this guy!”

“Dr. Banner is not waking at my prompts, and is in his bed. His vitals indicate he may have been drugged.” JARVIS explained.

Thor threw the humans off with little effort with a shout of triumph. “You will all die! Then I can return to my beloved Amora!” he thundered.

It hit Natasha like a ton of bricks. The Enchantress. The necklace had to be controlling their friend somehow. Thor had told her about the Asgardian woman who was obsessed with Thor. She had tried many times to make him fall in love with her. They had to get the damn thing off!

A gun shot rang out, and everyone spun to see the new arrival. Phil was standing in the doorway to the gym, eyes wide and gun pointing at Thor. His bags were beside him on the floor, indicating he had just arrived. The bullet bounced uselessly off of Thor’s skin, leaving only a shallow mark. “Hit the chain around his neck!” Natasha shouted, praying he’d hit it. Phil was a good shot, but he was no Clint and it was a small target.Thor screamed in rage but the next shot hit the chain and the medallion hit the floor with a loud clang.

The effect was immediate. Thor went still, looked around like he had just woken up. They watched him slowly take in his surroundings, the horrified look solidifying on his face. “What-” he choked off. “What have I done?” His voice was quiet but echoed through the silent gym. He dropped to his knees, a sob ripping through him.

Natasha wished there was time to comfort her traumatized friend, “Coulson, Bruce’s room! Clint, Tony! I’ve got Steve. JARVIS, can SHIELD pick them up at the landing pad?” No one argued, just snapped to.

JARVIS, bless him, was ahead of her. “Med evac team will land in approximately 3 minutes and are aware of the number of patients.”

Natasha allowed herself to look back at Thor as she threw Steve over her shoulder. His face was wet with tears, but he was glaring right through the medallion he now held in his hand. Everyone was going to be okay, medical was already almost there. Mjolnir landed in his hand, hard from somewhere else in the tower. Thor met her eyes for a moment before he was crashing through the window. She couldn’t blame him, but she desperately hoped he’d return after taking care of the Enchantress. He needed to know that none of them blamed him. He needed to know not to blame himself.