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zaebeecee · 1 month ago

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It's Nothing Serious

Secret Santa 2024 ••

Alastor and Anthony have been sharing a dorm for over a year. When Alastor comes up with a project for his social psychology class, it's only natural that he would ask Anthony for his help; after all, who else does he trust more? And besides, it isn't like fake dating has ever gone off the rails in the past, right?

Content: fake relationship, human versions, everyone is old enough to do the stuff mentioned within, drinking, trans Angel Dust, HRT involving needles, fluff and corny romance shit, implied spicyness, a whole lot of characters for a one-shot, Christmas-adjacent situations

•••

Here's my gift for the lovely @luciferfemme for the RadioDust 2024 Secret Santa gift exchange! Fun fact: they made the post that was my primary inspiration for Loveless Bond, for which I remain deeply grateful. Anyway, here you are, darling. Hope you like it!

•••

Six feet tall. Thirty-six years old. Outdated photo of him and his fraternity buddies as the only picture on his profile.

Swipe left on that one.

Five foot eleven. Twenty-nine. Fishing picture, fishing picture, fishing picture, just a dog, fishing picture.

Cute dog, but I don’t wanna hear how big his last catch was all through dinner. Left.

No fats, femmes, or Asians.

Fuck you, buddy. How do I mark a guy as ‘hate’?

Twenty-one.

Like Hell you are, you could be my father.

“Looks like pretty slim pickings in the dating market these days.”

“Holy shit!” Anthony jerked in surprise, nearly throwing his phone right into his dorm mate’s face as he spun around and slipped off the couch. He landed on his ass with a sharp yelp, which only made the guy above him start laughing harder. “Where the fuck did you come from?!”

“Louisiana,” Alastor said with a wide grin, his arms loosely folded on the back of their couch as he leaned over to watch Anthony pull himself up off the floor.

“Ha ha, asshole,” Anthony grumbled. “I thought you were at the library.”

“I was,” Alastor said, straightening up and rounding the couch to plop down next to the other young man. “But it’s the beginning of the semester, Angel, I hardly have that much work to do.”

Anthony snorted. “Since when have you ever gone to the library for legitimate reasons?”

Alastor’s smile sharpened that way it did whenever he was plotting something, and Anthony frowned, leaning away instinctively. In the year that they had known each other, Anthony—Angel Dust, to his close friends—had learned how to interpret many of Alastor’s more enigmatic expressions. When they had first met at the start of Anthony’s first semester at college, introduced to each other as new students who would be sharing a dorm, Alastor had immediately made quite an impression: he was handsome, he was mysterious, he was scary, and he was incredibly unavailable (as made perfectly clear by his laughter when Anthony’s first words to him had been some sort of proposition). It hadn’t taken Anthony long to realize that Alastor simply wasn’t interested in anyone or anything that way; however, it quickly became obvious that it was nothing like homophobia or prudishness, as he had no shortage of time to listen to complaints about the men Anthony was seeing nor lack of scathing opinions on each one of those men.

By the end of the first semester, Anthony and Alastor had become very close friends, to the point that they willingly agreed to remain together in the Spring. Now, in Anthony’s third semester, he had been given the option to move off-campus into an apartment or a house, but he’d elected to stay so that Alastor (who was on scholarship and unable to afford to live outside the dorms) wouldn’t have to get used to a new roomie.

Alastor had been surprised when Anthony told him this, but he had recovered quickly and said something to the effect of ‘I knew you would’. But he was happy about it, and no amount of smug posturing would convince Anthony otherwise.

“So, are we on the hunt for a new beau already?” Alastor asked, leaning around as though trying to look at Anthony’s phone again. The screen was off, but Anthony pulled it against his chest anyway. “I would think you’d be more concerned with your studies this semester, considering how abysmal you failed Calculus this past Spring.”

“Shut up,” Anthony said. “I ain’t lookin’ for a boyfriend, and I ain’t even after a hookup, necessarily. Just seein’ how the pool’s changed in the past few months. Ain’t gotten any better.”

Alastor scoffed, leaning one arm on the back of the couch and smirking at him. “I told you, most anyone you’ll find on those apps are going to be scum, because anyone who’s worth dating won’t be resorting to relying on them.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and turning his head away. “I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of callin’ you right.” Alastor didn’t answer. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

“You aren’t even looking at me.”

“I can feel it.” Anthony picked up one of their mismatched couch pillows and smacked Alastor in the side of the head with it. The other boy cackled, shielding himself ineffectually with his arms. “Besides, it’s lookin’ like layin’ off the scene will be for the best right now. Feels like half the guys on here are chasers, and the other half got some kinda ‘you’d better not be trans if you message me’ disclaimer right at the top. I don’t wanna deal with that shit right now.”

“Hm.” Alastor’s smile changed to something Anthony might have called a little bit sympathetic, but then, he shrugged. “Their loss,” he said. “Seems like they’d simply feel insecure about you having more testosterone than them.” Anthony laughed, and Alastor’s grin returned. “If you’re going to be off the market anyway, I suppose I should do what I can to make sure you don’t get lonely.”

Anthony smirked, wiggling his eyebrows briefly. “You propositioning me, Al?”

“What– no, stop that,” Alastor said quickly, color rising to his face as he pointed a single threatening finger and ignored Anthony’s cackle. “What I’m saying,” he said, loudly enough that Anthony’s laughter died down, “is that I have a project this semester, and I think it’s something you could help me with, if you’re amenable.”

“Does this involve me losin’ a finger or somethin’?”

“There is a non-zero chance, but it’s highly unlikely.”

Anthony frowned. “...I ain’t agreein’ to nothin’ until you tell me what it is.”

“Fine,” Alastor said, rolling his eyes. “I’m taking a class for my social psych minor this semester, Social Influence and Behavior. Essentially, studying the way that people react to others in social settings and the ways changes in one individual might influence changes in another.”

“We both know I ain’t got a clue what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

Alastor leveled him with a look. “How one or two people acting weird can make the people around them act weird.”

“Oh, okay. I follow.”

“I thought you might. We were tasked with conducting an informal study over the course of the semester, the subject of which is up to our discretion. I thought you would be perfect to help me out with mine, since it’s… well. It’s fucking with our social circle and seeing how they respond.”

Anthony giggled. “Ooh, that sounds fun. A semester-long prank. Sure, I’m down, what are you thinkin’?”

Either Alastor suddenly looked a little bashful, or Anthony was imagining things. “Well, that’s… part of the reason I wanted to ask you, rather than anyone else,” he said, his voice as hesitant as Alastor’s ever got. “Most of my behavior isn’t considered unusual for me, and I was having trouble thinking of something I could do that the others would view as out of the ordinary. The best option that I landed on was dating someone.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up. “Dating someone?”

“You see?” Alastor gestured at him with one hand. “You’re surprised by the mere suggestion! It would be perfect!”

“So… wait.” Anthony held his own hands up. “Wait wait wait. Are you asking– I mean, what are you asking?”

“Don’t worry, it wouldn’t be really dating,” Alastor said, and Anthony wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or not. “But you and I really are quite different, and I’m given to understand that sort of thing is subject to quite a bit of social scrutiny, not to mention the idea of me in a relationship is certain to absolutely baffle everyone who has ever met me. And it has the added benefit of the fact that I trust you implicitly and am fully aware that you would not take advantage of this position to my detriment, in addition to the fact that I can rely on you for answers to any questions I might have about how to proceed after a time.”

Anthony was silent for a moment. On the one hand, it was incredibly funny, imagining how their friends would respond to the idea of them being in a relationship. On the other hand, while Anthony would never admit it, he’d been fostering an incredibly annoying crush on Alastor for the past several months and it was only getting worse, a fact that most of their friends (particularly Husk and Cherry) were very adamant Anthony needed to stop immediately. On the other other hand (and didn’t he wish he had more than two sometimes), he couldn’t help feeling deeply touched that of everyone Alastor knew, Anthony was the one that he trusted enough to rely on for this.

Plus, this might get Valentino to leave me alone, so that’s another upside.

“Yeah, sure,” Anthony finally said. “Why the fuck not?”

Alastor did that thing that he did when he was both surprised and excited, the thing that made Anthony imagine he had two big animal ears that had just perked up on the top of his head. “Really?”

“Really,” Anthony laughed. “Sounds like fun, as long as you can handle it.”

Alastor’s expression shifted into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Should be pretty obvious,” Anthony said with a shrug. “The only way this is gonna work is if we don’t act outta character, right?” Alastor nodded. “So… that means you’ve gotta put up with physical contact from me.”

The very idea made Alastor’s body stiffen up visibly. “...you’re talking about public affection.”

“PDA, yeah.” Anthony tilted his head. “Look, nobody’s gonna believe I’m datin’ someone I never lay a finger on, and they won’t buy that you’re actually in a relationship with anyone if you won’t ever let them touch you. You know how physical I am, so if you weren’t willin’ to put up with that, why would we go out at all?”

Alastor sighed, relaxing. “...you make a fair point,” he said. “But I will be setting ground rules, and you will be respecting them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you, Smiles,” Anthony said. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to make you uncomfortable intentionally, and I ain’t gonna do nothin’ without your consent. Just lettin’ you know that if you wanna sell this, we’re gonna have to commit.” He shrugged. “It’s like acting. Think of it as blocking.”

“...right,” Alastor said. “I can do that.”

“Cool. So…” Anthony hesitated. “Uh… when were you wanting to start?”

“As soon as possible.”

•••

“Good morning, everyone!”

The responses ranged from enthusiastic (Charlie) to barely a grunt of acknowledgement (Husk) as Alastor slung his bag over the back of a chair and lowered himself into it. Niffty leaned across the table, pushing a cup of coffee in front of him. “Here,” she said. “We ordered already. We got you your usual.”

“You’re a peach,” Alastor said, patting Niffty on the top of her head and picking up the coffee cup. She smiled, sinking back into her seat. The morning was crisp with just a touch of the scent of autumn in the air, barely detectable under the bouquet of smells coming from the cafe. While Alastor had always preferred studying on his own, he had to admit that he didn’t exactly mind getting roped into this little study group that Charlie insisted on hosting every Saturday morning. They always sat around the same large table together, Charlie paid for everyone with her father’s money (and Alastor didn’t mind wasting that), and it usually devolved into something more fun than simple school work.

“Where’s Angel?” Charlie asked. “He’s coming, right?”

“He’d better be, I ordered the bitch pancakes,” Cherry said.

“It’s a morning study session.” Pentious brushed his long hair back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the table as a whole. “I don’t think Angel’s seen this side of an ante meridiem hour since he left high school and I’m not positive why any of you keep thinking he will.”

Husk snorted. “It’s a tossup,” he said. “He’ll either show up for free food or avoid it because it means work.”

“He’ll be here,” Alastor said. “Don’t worry.”

Rosie laughed. “What, did you wake him up before you left?”

“I threw things on him until he yelled at me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

No one was giving him any kind of unusual look (as far as he could determine), which was something of a relief; it meant that, no matter how Alastor might have been feeling in the moment, the others at the table weren’t suspicious of anything. It wasn’t that Alastor was nervous—what reason did he have to be nervous? It was only Anthony, and they had known each other for over a year at this point—but, as the one with no experience on how romantic relationships were supposed to be conducted at various points, he was incredibly uncertain as to what he was supposed to expect. Anthony had promised him, repeatedly, that he would do his best to keep from making Alastor uncomfortable while simultaneously doing his part to make their little scheme believable, but that told him absolutely nothing about what Anthony might actually do.

Of course, the fact did remain that he trusted Anthony. When they had first met, Alastor had noted his friendliness, and the moment he registered that it was flirting and had expressed his personal distaste for such things, Anthony had stopped immediately. In fact, outside of a handful of exceptions (bumping into each other in their tiny kitchen, grabbing Alastor by the hand when his bad leg gave out and he nearly fell down the stairs outside the library, that one time he’d helped with a particularly stubborn cuff button that Alastor simply could not fasten one-handed), Anthony had taken pains not to make any physical contact with Alastor whatsoever. Despite his friend’s reputation around campus and in various social circles, Alastor had always found him respectful with his hands, even if he had no idea how to control his mouth.

“Oh, there he is! Hi, Angel!” Charlie said, interrupting Alastor’s thoughts. She raised her hand and he followed the line of her gaze to Anthony, who returned the wave with one hand before he lowered it to stifle a yawn. He headed for the table, letting his bag drop onto the floor and slumping into the chair next to Alastor.

“Morning, princess,” Alastor said with a smirk, watching Anthony scrub his face with both hands. “Long night?”

“Nnh. Sleepy. Coffee.”

Niffty began sliding another coffee across the table, but she froze the moment Anthony leaned over and laid his head on Alastor’s shoulder. Alastor jumped slightly, but Anthony remained still, giving him time to adjust to the sensation without giving away their game immediately. It actually wasn’t that bad, after the initial shock of the touch; as a matter of fact, Anthony was actually pretty gentle as he leaned against him, and the white hair brushing against Alastor’s cheek was soft, but not in a way that tickled or irritated.

Is this what it feels like? I can do this.

Alastor leaned to the side as well, pressing his cheek against the top of Anthony’s head before the other young man could move away. “Well, sha, if you’d gotten up when I told you I was getting ready, you could have walked with me and had coffee sooner.”

“Okay, Mr. My Hair And Clothes Always Look Perfect With Zero Effort. Some of us actually have to work to look presentable.”

“…uhm… here, Angel, we got you coffee too,” Niffty finally said, pushing the mug towards him. She was still staring wide-eyed, and Alastor was fairly positive she hadn’t blinked once.

“Oh my god, you’re perfect.”

While Anthony sat up to wrap both hands around the mug and take a careful sip, Alastor took the opportunity to take a quick glance around. Everyone was staring, a variety of expressions on their faces, but no matter what they were thinking it was quite clear that everyone was confused. Alastor kept his usual smile in place; it was really hard not to laugh when Charlie started to ask a tentative question only to get cut off by the arrival of their food.

Alastor turned his head again at a tugging on his sleeve. “Yes, sha?”

“What’d you get?” Anthony asked, his gaze fixed on Alastor’s bowl of pecan oatmeal like he had no idea what it was.

Immediately, he was hit with sudden inspiration. Instead of answering, Alastor got a small mouthful on his spoon and held it up. “Want some?”

Anthony nodded before opening his mouth, instantly reminding Alastor of a baby bird. Alastor fed him the spoonful (he had seen insufferable couples do that in public before), and Anthony ate it happily, humming one of those little songs he hummed when he thought something tasted really good.

“…so…” Charlie finally said. Alastor looked her direction, and was gratified to see that Husk was staring, his mouth slightly open and his face frozen in an expression of confusion that didn’t know if it wanted to be angry or not. “What, um… what’s going on with you two?”

“Going on?” Alastor asked, his smile widening. “My dear Charlie, whatever makes you think there’s something going on?”

“You don’t share food,” Vaggie said, gesturing between them sharply, her brow furrowed.

Rosie held one hand up, her wrist going limp instantly. “You two aren’t actually… y’know…”

“Of course they aren’t,” Cherri said immediately.

“They aren’t what?” Pentious asked, looking around the table quickly. “What? What’s happening?”

Alastor shrugged, looking at Anthony. “You want to tell them?”

“I like makin’ them wonder.” Anthony giggled a little before rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine. Yeah, we’re datin’, you wanna make somethin’ of it?”

Instantly, Niffty muffled a squeal with her hands, and Husk quite confidently said, “Bullshit,” while Cherri almost shrieked the word ‘bitch’ in shock before vaulting out of her chair and running over to start berating Anthony for not calling her (though why he would have was beyond Alastor; he’d have to ask once they were alone).

“When did this happen?” Charlie asked, her eyes wide and her voice doing that ‘I’m about to burst with excitement’ vibrating thing it did before she burst into happy tears.

“Last night,” Alastor said. “I’m sorry, were we supposed to take out space for an announcement in the campus newsletter?”

“No, no, of course not!” Charlie said, waving her hands in front of her face. “I just— I’m happy for you!”

“…thank you?”

“Ignore them, darling,” Rosie said with a casual wave of her hand. “I’ll simply say it’s about fucking time and let it drop.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes at her, which just made her smile grow. “What is about fucking time, exactly?”

“No no, too late, I dropped it. Niffty knows what I mean.”

He turned to squint at Niffty, who still had her hands clasped over her mouth and was nodding furiously. Alastor narrowed his eyes further. “…have we been the subject of gossip?”

“Uh, duh,” Niffty said finally. “And if you weren’t always so damn mysterious, we wouldn’t have to do that!”

As Alastor was processing this, he felt a knuckle thump his shoulder. He turned to look up at Husk, who was looking down at him with an unreadable expression. “Can I talk to you?”

Alastor glanced down at where Husk had tapped him, then back up; normally, that was enough to get him to back down, but he didn’t budge. “Of course.”

He excused himself and followed Husk out the front door, then around to the side of the building where they couldn’t be observed. Once out of sight, Husk turned to him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“At the moment? Being systematically prevented from consuming my most important meal of the day.”

“Cut the shit, Alastor. You know what I mean.”

Alastor held his hands out as he shrugged. “I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult, Husker. Angel is a perfectly delightful young man. Is there something so wrong with someone wishing to pursue a relationship with him?”

“Normally, no,” Husk said, raising an eyebrow. “But this is you that we’re talking about. You aren’t capable of doing things without ulterior motives.”

“You know me so well.” Alastor didn’t let his smile slip. “What’s next, going to tell me that if I break his heart you’ll break my kneecaps?”

Husk scoffed. “No. Angel’s gonna be in arm’s reach of you, he’ll kill you just fine by himself. But if you’re playing some kind of game, you really might want to rethink this, because while we won’t interfere with whatever he decides to do on his own, his siblings might.”

Oh. Shit. I didn’t think about them.

Anthony’s twin sister, Maria, and older brother, Bernardino—affectionately known as “Molly” and “Arackniss” in their little circle— were textbook examples of avoiding even the pretense of subtlety. While much of Anthony’s speech and behavior could be written off as just him being from New York, Molly had been described as “a Long Island princess who might have a gun in her purse at any given moment”, and Arackniss always sounded like he was a sentence away from threatening to give someone a pair of cement shoes. Alastor wasn’t afraid of them, of course; no, he had only ever feared one person in his life, and that honor belonged to his beloved mother. However, Anthony had made it painfully clear that, whatever issues he had with his siblings (particularly Arackniss), they were his problems and anyone who fucked with his siblings would be very unlikely to see the next morning.

Alastor wasn’t afraid of Anthony, either, but that didn’t change the fact that the thought of upsetting him was deeply unpleasant.

Apparently, he had been quiet too long, because Husk’s expression flattened out into something closer to derisive disbelief. “You didn’t even think about it, did you?”

“I deeply appreciate your concern, Husker,” Alastor said, skirting around the question and laying his hands on either of Husk’s shoulders. “But you have nothing at all to fret about! I know exactly what I’m doing, and Anthony is perfectly capable of handling his family on his own.”

Husk sighed, rolling his eyes. “Your funeral, brother.”

When they returned to the table, Anthony gave Alastor a curious look, but Alastor waved to him, their signal for ‘I’ll tell you later’ when either of them had gossip that needed to be discussed privately. The conversation redirected itself almost immediately, for which Alastor was grateful. He enjoyed being the center of attention, of course, but being barraged with questions made it infinitely harder to just sit and observe his surroundings. That was, after all, the point of all of this.

As they were all getting up to leave, Anthony said, “C’mon, babe. I need some new threads and you said you’d give me your most cuttin’ and brutal opinions.”

Alastor had said nothing of the sort, but he knew coded language when he heard it. “Of course, sha.” He waved to the others, all of whom were staring as they left the cafe together and began walking in the direction of the nearby shopping center. Once they were far enough away and Alastor had determined they weren’t being tailed, he allowed himself a small cackle. “That went well.”

Anthony giggled. “Shit, no kidding. I expected a reaction, but fuck. …hehe.”

Alastor frowned at him. “…what?”

“Butt fuck,” Anthony repeated.

Perplexed, Alastor continued to stare until recognition hit him. “You are hopelessly foul and I hope you walk in front of an oncoming bus.”

This time, Anthony’s laugh was full and genuine. “I’m draggin’ you with me, bitch!” He then directed that smile onto Alastor. “So… I know you didn’t actually agree to shop with me, but d’you mind comin’ anyway? I’ll buy you a soft pretzel.”

Somewhere deep inside, Alastor thought, You don’t have to bribe me, sha. I can’t say no when you give me that smile.

It was a ridiculous thought, but it was far from the first time it had crossed Alastor’s mind, so he dismissed it. “Oh, very well,” he said, playing up the visage of being put-upon enough that no one could mistake it for true reluctance. “I suppose I had nothing else to do, anyway.”

This was going to be a lot of fun, Alastor decided. He couldn’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they learned the whole thing had been a ruse.

•••

Word travels real fuckin’ fast, apparently.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”

Anthony rolled his eyes visibly as he continued putting away the clothes Alastor had helped him pick out. Molly and Arackniss had been waiting outside their dorm room when they returned, and the moment Alastor registered their presence, he suddenly remembered he had something to do in the library and ran away (like a goddamn coward) before either of them noticed him. Naturally, they had started badgering Anthony instantly, following him into the dorm and hardly pausing for breath, let alone any kind of explanation.

Molly wrapped her arms around her legs, glaring up at him. “What, you think you can just not tell us and we won’t find out? That it?”

“If that’s what it was, I wouldn’t never text either of you,” Anthony said, carefully cutting the tag off of a shirt he had decided he wouldn’t be returning. “I was gonna tell you.”

Arackniss scoffed, not straightening up from where he was leaning against the wall next to Anthony’s closet. “Sure you were, Tony,” he said sarcastically.

“I was!” Anthony countered, flinging an empty shopping bag at his brother. “It happened late last night, I had study bullshit this morning, ain’t like I’ve been keepin’ it for weeks or somethin’.”

He could practically hear his siblings exchanging looks behind his back as he put hangars up in his closet. “...you went to a study session,” Molly said finally.

“Yeah.”

“You. Went to a study session.”

“Yes,” Anthony said, carefully controlling his voice so he wasn’t snapping at her. “You’re actin’ like I ain’t never studied a day in my life.”

“Well… not on purpose, anyway,” Arackniss said.

Before Anthony could counter, Molly said, “Didn’t you say he don’t do… y’know. Sex and stuff?”

Anthony frowned at her over his shoulder. “...yeah,” he said. “Not that it’s any of your business. What’s your point?”

“Well…” Molly looked at Arackniss.

He picked up on whatever signal it was, taking over from her. “Tony, you ain’t never dated anybody in your life, and now you’re sayin’ you’re exclusive with a guy who doesn’t even like sex?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I don’t care,” he said. “He told me he don’t mind if I keep up my cam work, and anyway, ain’t there more to a relationship than just fuckin’ all the time?”

“Well… yeah,” Arackniss said.

“We’re just surprised you think that,” Molly added.

Anthony turned to them and held up his hands. ‘Y’know what? Fuck both of you,” he said; he didn’t put any real heat in the words, and just looking at their expressions told him they didn’t take it seriously. “I like him, and he likes me, and I don’t give a shit about anything else. And even if it wasn’t for that, I’d stay with him just to piss you off.”

Molly actually giggled at that. “Sounds about right. And I’m guessin’ the aneurysm Ma’d have about you bringin’ home a boyfriend—”

“Who’s both southern and black,” Arackniss interjected.

“—don’t hurt your decision none, either.”

Anthony cackled. “She’s gonna be so pissed, and don’t get me started on Pop.”

“Well, they won’t disown you,” Arackniss said thoughtfully. “I was fuckin’ certain they would when you started your transition. Pops still asks me if you’ve stopped ‘that testosterone shit’ every time we talk.”

Anthony raised his eyebrow. “And?”

“I say no. And then I call you Tony and he hangs up on me.”

He snorted, grinning. If he actually liked his parents, that would have been incredibly painful to hear. Instead, while his parents’ actions made him mad, listening to how his siblings handled it always filled him with a sense of bitter satisfaction. “Ain’t you the best big brother.”

“You fuckin’ know it.”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Molly asked. “You got bad taste in men, Tony, and a guy like him…”

“I’m sure,” Anthony said. He meant it, too, but in a much different way than either Molly or Arackniss were taking it. Did he really like Alastor enough to put up with this?

…yeah. He did. And that wasn’t going to cause any problems in the future, because he wouldn’t let it. He valued Alastor’s trust and friendship too much to let it.

•••

Alastor had known there would be… reactions, to put it mildly, when news got out that he and Anthony were ‘dating’. In fact, he had been counting on it; otherwise, how was he going to get any sort of data for his project? He simply hadn’t been expecting so many reactions to be quite so visceral or loud.

That study breakfast had only been the first social hurdle. Over the next month, he’d been yelled at by Vox (who’d had a strangely passionate reaction to the news, and for the life of him, Alastor couldn’t figure out why he was so upset), threatened with extreme bodily harm by Valentino, stalked through the library and the rest of the campus by Blitzø and his three little cohorts, aggressively grilled by both Molly and Arackniss, and been stared at by Zestial with an intensity he could feel from the other side of the quad.

It was still funny, of course, but for some reason, it was also sort of… bothering him? Annoying him? He wasn’t sure the phrase that best communicated how he was feeling, just that there was something unpleasant about everyone behaving as though he wasn’t good enough to be Anthony’s boyfriend. Fake relationship or not, it was hard not to take that kind of thing personally.

Maybe that was why, in mid October, he finally broke down and grabbed his phone to make a call.

He was laying on his bed with his head at the foot, turned onto his side with his phone resting on the side of his head without either hand keeping it in place. It freed them up to allow him to pick at the cheap comforter he broke out once it started getting too cold in the building. The phone rang twice in his ear before he heard a click, followed by the soft, comforting sound of a controlled alto voice. “Hello, Alastor.”

“Hi, maman,” Alastor said, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Catch you at a bad time?”

“Nah. Just gettin’ some packages ready for the store this week,” she answered. Just the sound of her Louisiana drawl was soothing after so many unpleasant conversations. “Somethin’s botherin’ you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Alastor still asked, “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You never call this late unless you got somethin’ on your mind, kiddo.”

He sighed. Either she was too perceptive or he was growing too predictable. It might have been both, for all he knew. “I… did something, and I wanted to tell you about it.”

There was a soft, distant thud, and he could tell his mother had just put down whatever was in her hand. “I’m not gettin’ another letter from your school,” she said; it was almost a question, but it might as well have been a threat.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Alastor hesitated, pulling on a thread in his comforter until it snapped. “I… asked someone out.”

A very long pause followed that, long enough that he almost asked if she was still there. “Is that so?” his mother asked finally. “You went on a date?”

Alastor shook his head, even though she couldn’t hear it. “It’s complicated, but no. I mean we’re dating.”

“I see.” Another pause. “It’s Anthony, isn’t it?”

Alastor put his hand on his phone and sat up. “How the hell—”

“Oh, please, Alastor.” He could sense her rolling her eyes at him. “After everythin’ you’ve told me ‘bout that boy, I knew if you’d be askin’ anyone out, it’d be him.”

He wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. He wanted to say that it was a fake relationship, or… something, he didn’t know what. “...do you think I’m making a mistake?” he asked instead.

“Who knows?” He could hear her chopping something on a cutting board. “But I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you can’t wait to know if everythin’ you’re gonna do is gonna end up goin’ well. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe it’s not. You won’t know until you do it.”

That was a good point, but Alastor wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Are you happy?”

Was he? Alastor thought for a long moment. It wasn’t something he had really considered, always having considered himself fairly content with his life so long as his decisions were just that: his own decisions. Did that mean he was happy? “...yeah,” he said, his voice soft with the realization that he wasn’t lying. “I am.”

“That’s all I care about. I’m happy for you, baby.”

The rest of the conversation was fairly standard, Alastor asking about how things were back home and his mother asking about his studies. When they said goodbye, he realized he actually felt a lot better. He hadn’t realized how much he needed just a little bit of approval. Everything seemed considerably lighter as he got up and left his small room, heading over to knock on Anthony’s door. “Hey, Angel,” he called. “You in there?”

“Yep. C’mon in, ain’t locked.”

Alastor let himself in, opening the door to see Anthony sitting in the middle of his bed with his medication box open in front of him. “Oh. HRT. Bad time?”

Anthony shook his head, drawing his dose out of the bottle. “Nah, s’long as you don’t mind watchin’ me stab myself.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem.” When Anthony gestured to the bed, Alastor sat down, looking over his supplies. “Need any help?”

Anthony glanced at him. “...you any good at givin’ shots?”

“I… have done it before,” Alastor hedged. “Why?”

“Because gettin’ it in my arm hurts less, but I gotta hold the skin taut, so I can’t do it by myself. Usually gotta do it in the thigh and sometimes it bleeds a lot.”

Alastor tilted his head. “...would you like me to give you your shot?”

“If you don’t mind, yeah.”

“You trust me to do that?”

Anthony raised an eyebrow at him. “If you hurt me on purpose, I’ll stab you with my drawin’ needle myself.”

Alastor chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Anthony showed him the proper place to stab, and Alastor held the skin as taut as he could, carefully slipping the needle straight into the muscle just below his shoulder. Anthony sucked in a breath, but he didn’t make any noise of pain, so Alastor made sure he wasn’t drawing blood before he slowly pushed the plunger down. Anthony made another sound, one that made Alastor feel a little strange, and he aggressively pushed the thought out of his mind as he removed the needle. “All done. Bandage?”

“Here,” Anthony said, offering one out to him. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Alastor removed the little round adhesive bandage and carefully covered the puncture wound. Then, on something of a whim, he leaned forward and kissed the spot. “There you go.”

When he sat up, Anthony was actually blushing. “Uh… thanks,” he said, his voice uncertain.

Alastor felt his own face heating up. Why did I do that? He refused to let it show in his expression or voice, just smiling as he stood up. “You have early class tomorrow. You should get to bed.”

Anthony groaned. “I can’t believe you talked me into taking an 8 AM class,” he complained, not for the first time. “You’re the literal worst.”

Alastor’s smile widened. “I am, aren’t I?”

Anthony flipped him off and Alastor laughed as he left the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it for just a second, his hand still wrapped around the handle.

The fuck is wrong with me?

•••

A week after the HRT incident—Anthony wasn’t sure what else he should call it—he found himself in Alastor’s room, both of them sitting on his bed and idly playing gin without paying much attention to it. The cards were just something to do with their hands, most of their conversation focused on the latest gossip and talking about the various upcoming Halloween activities, such as several campus parties, the parade, and the massive haunted house that was always open the whole of Halloween week.

“You gonna go do anythin’ this year?” Anthony asked.

“I never do,” Alastor said, drawing a card from the deck and tossing one down.

Anthony smirked. “That’s why I’m askin’ this year. You wanna?”

He’d expected Alastor to buck at the suggestion, but instead, he looked thoughtful. “What did you have in mind?”

“Haunted house and Charlie’s party,” Anthony said. “Thought maybe, if you were down, we could do a couple’s costume and really weird people out.”

That actually made Alastor perk up. “Yes, absolutely, we’re doing that.”

Anthony laughed. “Great. We’ll go shoppin’ for stuff tomorrow, then.”

The silence that followed was thoughtful. Anthony had known Alastor had something on his mind for the whole evening (for the past week, really), but he wasn’t sure how to ask. It turned out he didn’t have to, though, because Alastor finally spoke again after almost ten minutes of playing cards in silence. “You’ve dated people before, right?”

“Hm? Yeah, kinda,” Anthony said. “Nothin’ that lasted more than a couple’a months, tho. Why?”

Alastor went into a much shorter thoughtful silence. If Anthony didn’t know better, he’d say he was hesitating. “Do you…” Alastor began, then shook his head and started over. “What do you usually do when you’re dating someone? And you don’t have to spare me details just because of my delicate constitution.”

Anthony grinned at that. “Well… we go out, like you and I’ve been doin’. But the dates ain’t usually so frequent.”

Alastor frowned. “Your boyfriends ignored you?” he asked, actually sounding a little bit pissed off on his behalf.

“No, no. I mean… not exactly,” Anthony hedged. “More we didn’t… leave that often.”

“...Angel. I already told you, you don’t have to spare me details.”

“Okay, okay,” Anthony said. “We spent a whole lot more time either makin’ out or fuckin’ than we did goin’ out to dinner or whatever.”

Alastor was quiet for a moment. “...I see,” he said. “And that was… fun, to you?”

“Sure,” Anthony said with a shrug. “You know I like sex. I like kissin’, too. I mean, as long as the guy’s good at it,” he added with a faint sneer. “Why d’you ask?”

“Curiosity. Also, a desire to keep people from catching on,” Alastor said. “I mean… I had noticed those bruises on your neck after you had a successful night out.”

“I never cared if someone saw that I got hickies.” Anthony frowned at him. “...what are you sayin’, exactly?”

Alastor looked somewhat embarrassed. “Simply that it was incredibly common for you to have them, and if you continue to… not… won’t some people start getting suspicious?”

Anthony wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take this. “Alastor, people know you ain’t into this kinda thing. I don’t think people are gonna be suspicious because you didn’t spontaneously grow a libido.” Oddly, Alastor looked even more embarrassed, and now Anthony was positive he wasn’t aware of it. The other young man was actually ducking his head into his shoulders somewhat, and he was avoiding meeting Anthony’s eyes more than usual. Anthony hesitated, but… Fuck it, he thought. He told me to be direct. “Alastor, are you curious about makin’ out or somethin’?”

Alastor threw his hands up before he put his head in his hands, staring down at the cards in the discard pile. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “You’re confusing.”

“Me? The fuck did I do?”

“I don’t know,” Alastor repeated, more insistently. “I’d truly never contemplated this kind of thing before, but I… yes, I suppose I’m curious.” The aggressive way he said it made Anthony pretty sure he had to force it out.

“...you wanna make out?” Anthony asked, trying his best not to sound too hopeful.

Alastor laughed a little, but he didn’t raise his head. “I believe you said you enjoy that provided the guy is good at it, right?”

“You sayin’ you’re a bad kisser or somethin’?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” Alastor said dryly, raising his eyes just enough to give Anthony a single quirked eyebrow.

Anthony shrugged. “If you ain’t done it before, then you can’t say you’re not good.”

Alastor stared at him, like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “...you know, most people are bad at things the first time they do them.”

“Depends on how fast a learner they are.” When Alastor looked uncomfortable again, Anthony said, “I got a better idea.” Alastor raised his head once more as Anthony moved back to lean against Alastor’s pillow and headboard, then motioned to Alastor to come closer. “C’mere.”

Frowning, Alastor scooted over to him. “What, precisely, are we doing?”

“Cuddles.” When his best friend made a predictably skeptical face, Anthony continued, “All innocent, I promise. Hands above clothes. Won’t even touch your hair if you don’t want me to. Just a test to see how you feel about the closeness.”

“...well… alright.” When Alastor moved next to him, Anthony helped him get settled. They ended up with Anthony still on his back, one arm around Alastor’s shoulders, and Alastor on his side with his head on Anthony’s shoulder-chest-area and arm across his abdomen.

At first, Alastor was predictably stiff, holding himself like he was either ready to spring up at any second or like he was afraid of putting too much weight on Anthony. After a few moments, however, he began relaxing, and Anthony took the opportunity to place his hand on Alastor’s upper arm and carefully run his hand down to his elbow, then up to his shoulder, then back, making sure the touch was firm enough not to trigger unpleasant physical sensation. “How’s that?”

“Mmn,” Alastor said. There was a long pause. “Your sweater is soft.”

“Yep. You comfy?”

“Mhm.”

In minutes, all of Anthony’s fears of chasing Alastor off were replaced with the thought of never being able to get up ever again as his dorm mate gradually became almost dead weight on top of him. He managed to fish his phone out of his pocket, then found a decent YouTube playlist and set the phone up with its pop socket on Alastor’s little bedside table so they had something to do that didn’t require movement.

After nearly an hour, Alastor stopped responding to Anthony. He looked down and couldn’t resist smiling when he noticed that Alastor had fallen asleep, his cheek pressed against Anthony’s chest and his glasses threatening to fall off. Anthony carefully took the frames off his friend’s face, folded them, and set them on the table. He thought about slipping out and going back to his own room, but the moment he tried to move, Alastor’s grip tightened.

Ah well. Fuck it.

It really was comfortable, after all.

•••

It got to the point that they were cuddling every time they were alone.

At first, Alastor had felt the compulsion to make up excuses for his behavior—it was cold, it was more practical so they could read the same book, they were both tired and they could each lay on the couch that way—but eventually he stopped trying. The fact of the matter was simple: he liked it. Anthony never questioned him, thankfully, but he couldn’t help wondering if he was behaving too strangely. After all, this wasn’t supposed to be a real relationship, and sometimes Alastor felt like he was taking advantage of the situation. He had simply never really been in a position to be so close to someone on such a regular basis, particularly not someone he wanted to be close to, and now that Anthony had opened the door… Alastor had discovered he really, really liked the contact.

Snow was falling gently as the two of them left the dormitory together, the moonlight casting silvery light off the blankets of white all around them, illuminating their walk off campus and to the small neighborhood where Charlie, Vaggie, Niffty, and Cherri were all renting a house together. Alastor couldn’t help laughing as Anthony shivered, pulling his hat down over his ears and his scarf up over his face before tucking his hands into the pockets of his huge white coat. “Cold?” he asked mildly.

“Fuckin’ freezing,” Anthony answered.

“You’d think you’d be used to the cold,” Alastor observed; he was cold, too, but he was certainly handling it better than his friend. “Yankee and all that.”

“Yeah well it doesn’t work like that.”

Alastor chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll have cider and you can warm yourself up.”

“Mmn.” Anthony looked at him, curiosity obvious on every inch of what was visible of his face. “Semester ends next week.”

“That it does. You going home?”

“Only if I can’t come up with an excuse to go somewhere else,” Anthony said. “You?”

“Can’t,” Alastor said. “Don’t have the money to travel. The dean’s letting me stay in the dorm over the break. I don’t think I’m the only one who’s staying, anyway.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay with you,” Anthony said. “Unless you’re just dying to have the place to yourself.”

Alastor glanced at him, surprised. “Oh… no, not particularly,” he said. “You know I get bored when I’m left on my own for too long, anyway.”

Anthony laughed. “You’d go through all my shit.”

“I don’t know where half of your belongings have been. No thank you.”

“Shut up,” Anthony said, punching Alastor lightly in the shoulder. “...your project is due next week, I guess?”

Alastor hadn’t let himself think about it very much. “Yeah. I need to finish writing it this weekend.”

“Boring.”

There was something else Anthony wanted to ask, Alastor could almost taste it. He could probably guess what it was, too.

Are we going to tell people it was a prank tonight?

Alastor was glad he didn’t ask, because honestly, he wasn’t sure what answer he would have given.

The house was decorated to an almost nauseating degree with lights, winter-themed foliage, and various lawn decorations of both the inflatable and the non-inflatable varieties. The door was open before they got a chance to knock, and Charlie (beaming from ear to ear as usual) waved them in. “Hi guys! Come on in, come on, it’s freezing outside!”

“You said it,” Anthony said, stepping in past her and pulling off his hat and scarf. His cheeks and nose were all pink, and Alastor had the bizarre thought that it was very cute. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Oh, no, you aren’t,” Charlie said as she took both of their outerwear and hung them up. “Everybody’s in either the living room or the kitchen, and my dad’s here, and I already made him promise to behave so you’d better also behave or I’ll do something drastic,” she added, pointing at Alastor’s nose.

He felt himself go cross-eyed before he nipped lightly at the air towards her finger, making her withdraw her hand. “Like what?”

“Like telling your boyfriend on you,” Charlie said decisively.

Alastor wasn’t sure what to say to that. He settled on, “My, haven’t we grown unreasonably cruel.”

“I’ll beat him up for you, sweetheart, don’t worry,” Anthony said, giving Alastor a wink.

They headed into the room where the Yule party was just getting into swing. Alastor took a moment to absorb the scene: Husk, Cherri, Niffty, and Blitzø were in front of some kind of complicated-looking board game, but they looked more like they were arguing over it than actually playing, while Stolas sat behind Blitzø looking through the rules pamphlet like he was trying to make sense of it; Pentious was sitting in front of Vaggie’s record player, holding up different records to Millie and Moxxie (who were occupying the same chair) like he was getting opinions on what to play next; Vaggie and Luna were at the island connecting the kitchen to the living room and appeared to be doing Jell-O shots; and from the sound of things, everyone else was in the kitchen, which suited Alastor just fine.

He followed Anthony to the center of the room, returning greetings as they were noticed, but they didn’t get far before Rosie appeared and thrust cups of hot cider into both of their hands. “Here, you both look frozen to death,” she said.

“Thank you, my dear,” Alastor said. “How’s the drama this evening?”

“Woefully undramatic,” she said, looking incredibly disappointed. “But I’m sure something will crop up for us to talk about for the next month.”

Anthony grinned. “It better. That’s the only reason I come to this shit.” He leaned closer to her and added in a lower voice, “Then again, maybe someone should just make some drama.”

Rosie leaned in the same distance and responded in the same tone, “If I get my way, I will be.”

“Ooh, dish, what?”

She grinned. “Gonna sleep with Charlie’s dad.” Alastor immediately choked on his cider, and before he could form words, she waved. “Ta, boys,” she trilled, heading back for the kitchen.

“Rosie!” Alastor snapped at her retreating back. “You are a hussy!”

“No, darling, I’m a harlot!”

In spite of the warnings, threats, and threats disguised as warnings, the evening progressed rather smoothly. Niffty was imposing strict limits on the drinking to prevent anyone from getting out of control (“Do not wreck this house, we are renting it!”), which meant the arguing never went too far and no fights broke out, not even from Cherri. When Alastor and Lucifer finally did lay eyes on each other, it was from across the room, but with Anthony and Charlie to steer them away from each other, he didn’t get a chance to do more than tauntingly smirk at the pompous asshole. There were some other people there that Alastor didn’t know—apparently, they were Lucifer’s work friends, but Charlie referred to them as aunts and uncles, so he wasn’t sure what to think—but he managed to avoid interacting too much with strangers, which was usually the reason he didn’t go to parties.

Roughly three hours later, after people had eaten and were milling around again, Alastor found himself sitting on a couch with Blitzø on one side of him and Millie on the other, deep in a conversation about (of all things) French Impressionist film and halfway through his fourth glass of cider when he felt Blitzø nudge his arm with his elbow. “What?” he asked, looking down at him.

“Look,” was his only answer, nodding to somewhere on the other side of the room.

Alastor obliged, his eyes landing on Anthony, who was talking with Niffty (about her clothes, judging by both of their body language). “...it’s Angel,” he said, perplexed. “What’s your point?”

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said. “Look, will you?”

He still had no idea what the other guy was on about when Millie went, “Ooooh, I see,” and immediately started giggling.

“What?” Alastor asked, when neither of them explained.

Almost immediately, he felt someone lean against the couch. “Hey, honey,” Moxxie said, leaning down to kiss Millie on the head. “What’s so funny?”

“Look,” Millie said unhelpfully, pointing subtly over at where Anthony and Niffty were standing.

Moxxie squinted at him. “I have no idea what you’re– oh, no, I see.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Alastor said, looking at Moxxie. “What are you three talking about?”

Fortunately for him, Moxxie was basically incapable of not sharing information when he knew something. “Look over his head.”

Alastor sighed, looked at Anthony, then looked up, and– Oh, he thought, color rising to his cheeks. “...isn’t mistletoe a little… corny?”

“Nah, I think it’s romantic,” Millie said, clasping her hands together at her chest. “Besides, y’know Charlie wouldn’t’a put it up if it weren’t supposed t’, y’know, inspire.”

Alastor rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “I don’t– I mean, Angel probably wouldn’t… you know…”

“Are you kidding? You think Mr. PDA would get all embarrassed if you kissed him?” Blitzø asked skeptically. “Besides, he’s standing under it, he’s practically begging–”

“I swear t’ god Blitzø if you say he’s askin’ for it I will eat yer kneecaps.”

“Well, he is!”

“You could always just ask,” Moxxie told Alastor as the other two immediately started bickering about ‘appropriate language’. “And if you aren’t comfortable, obviously, don’t do it.”

Am I comfortable with something like this?

A few months ago, Alastor would have just laughed at the question, or given some kind of sarcastic form of ‘no’ if pressed to answer. But now… he didn’t know if he was or not, and he was finally realizing that he was never going to know if he was or wasn’t unless he actually tried something. He just nodded to Moxxie, finished the rest of his cider all at once, and thrust the empty glass at Blitzø. “This was your idea, so you have to hold this.”

“What– yeah, okay, man, go get some.”

Alastor ignored him, getting to his feet and crossing the room to where Anthony was standing. The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear his voice; he was aware that his own thoughts were somewhat jumbled, but there was one thing he knew for absolute certain. It was something he had been thinking for days, a deeply sober sentiment that he knew the alcohol was not influencing one iota.

I don’t want him to go.

“Oh, hey, Al,” Anthony said, turning when he noticed him. “You’re not leavin’, are you?”

“No,” Alastor said, shaking his head. He thought to say something else, but he didn’t; he couldn’t do anything but just look at Anthony.

Apparently, this was odd. Anthony frowned, tilting his head. “...you okay?” he asked at length.

“What? Yeah. Yes,” Alastor corrected. “I’m fine. It’s just… I…” He wasn’t sure how to say it, and on reflex, he glanced up at the mistletoe again.

It wasn’t meant to direct Anthony’s own gaze, but it did, and the moment he registered the little bit of green decor, his cheeks flooded with pink. “...oh.”

Alastor was only vaguely aware of Niffty scurrying away, giggling. Anthony looked back down at him, both of them at a loss for words. Alastor wasn’t used to his speech failing him, because his words were how he had always navigated through life. It was how he had gotten himself out of trouble, and sometimes into it, for many years. But now… what was he supposed to say?

Anthony wasn’t speaking either. But he also wasn’t moving. Alastor didn’t know what to make of it. All he knew was that all of this thinking was making it worse, so instead of thinking, he would just do something.

When he first leaned forward and kissed Anthony, the other young man gasped, as though so much buildup still hadn’t prepared him. Before Alastor could even think about moving away, Anthony flung his arms around Alastor’s shoulders and pulled him closer. Even though they didn’t part lips, even Anthony was out of breath when they parted, and Alastor was fairly certain both of their faces were on fire.

He only noticed the room was silent when someone yelled, “Hell yeah!” which triggered either laughter or vehement shushing from most everyone else in the room. Anthony immediately started giggling, burying his face in Alastor’s shoulder.

Alastor couldn’t bring himself to look at the rest of the room. It wasn’t just because it was embarrassing, it was because the sight of Anthony flushed so pink and overcome with laughter was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “...are you ready to go?” he murmured.

“Mhm,” Anthony said into Alastor’s shoulder, nodding.

No one seemed terribly surprised when they took their leave, bundling back up in their coats and heading out into the snow once more. The walk back felt both longer than it ever had and so short it was as though it passed in a blink. They were outside the dorms when Alastor took Anthony’s sleeve. “Wait,” he said.

“Y-yeah?” Anthony asked, turning to look at him.

Immediately, Alastor didn’t want to say anything, so he forced out the first words he could without giving himself time to process or second-guess. “Be my boyfriend. I mean… really. My actual boyfriend.”

This time, Anthony was the one who kissed him.

An hour later, they were in Alastor’s room, coats and hats haphazardly scattered on the floor and Anthony’s back against the wall. Alastor grabbed his wrists and pinned them, covering Anthony’s mouth with his own.

Judging by the sounds Anthony was making, he was a fast learner when it came to this kind of thing.

When they parted, Anthony tilted his head back, exposing the line of his neck, and Alastor was unable to resist leaning down enough to kiss his throat. He could feel Anthony’s groan reverberating through his own lips. “Oh, god, yeah,” Anthony moaned. “That’s so good…”

Something about those words, the way Anthony said them, sent a shiver through Alastor’s body. Before he could second-guess it, he bit down on Anthony’s neck, making him cry out and arch his back to press their chests together. Alastor released him. “Too much?” he panted.

“No, no no, fuck no, don’t stop…!”

Alastor bit down again, and Anthony whined, the sound turning into a sort of sharp moan as Alastor began scraping his teeth against his skin. As he began sucking a bruise into his flesh, he discovered that the rougher he was, the more Anthony seemed to like it; by the time he moved away to admire his work, the side of Anthony’s neck was covered in marks ranging from pink to dark red to something bordering on purple.

Anthony was breathing hard. “Fuck, Alastor, you’re so good…!”

Alastor didn’t know what it was, but when Anthony said that, it made him feel like he was going to go insane if he didn’t do… something, he just didn’t know what. He practically growled as he grabbed Anthony around the waist, and his best friend let out an inelegant squeak as he was lifted off the ground and practically flung onto Alastor’s bed. Alastor wasn’t sure how he would feel about this later, but he knew what he wanted now, and what he wanted was to keep making Anthony make those noises.

He stumbled slightly when he kicked his shoes off, but he managed to keep his feet until he could get onto the bed and crawl on top of Anthony, pinning him down and kissing him again. The night devolved into a haze of sensation and emotion, punctuated by Anthony’s whispered encouragement and moans. Alastor wasn’t sure if he was making noise or not—he was too busy listening to Anthony’s sounds to really focus on what he himself was doing—but if the way he felt when Anthony actually moaned the words “you’re such a good boy” in his ear was anything to go by, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what kind of noises he was making.

Eventually, he wasn’t able to form any kind of coherent thought beyond, I’m going to have to rewrite my entire paper.

#hazbin hotel #radiodust #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin radiodust #my writing #radiodust fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic

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betterbemeta · 3 days ago

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because I love to cook the youtube algorithm pushes me a lot of food porn videos which I guess are adjacent. But over time, something about them feels cruel to me. The influencers are living in an alternate universe. 'Surf n' turf fried rice?' 40 lbs of it for a tailgate?

I live in the USA, and the absolute cheapest online price for snow crab legs I could find was $10 a lb and I have no idea if the product's any good quality. As of November 2024, the wholesale prices before markup were over $8 a lb. I haven't seen them in my grocery store for under $14 a lb. Online, 10 lb cases of crab like he's carrying there go for almost always over $100. Sometimes over $200. There was a 2018-2019 population collapse due to a marine heatwave that knocked out over 10 billion crabs.

The stated price of a beef tenderloin varies wildly depending on where I look. I can find a USDA report that states that the retail cost of beef tenderloin in my area in 2024 was around $8-$11 per lb but I have NEVER seen it for under $15 a lb on sale in the store, at least recently. Grass-fed beef costs a lot more. Maybe I am not looking hard enough, and there ARE definitely ways to get meat cheaper, like buying a cow share. But like... do you get what I am saying? That meat fried rice guy is holding is potentially over $100 by itself. and why the hell do you need tenderloin to make fried rice, anyway? It's one of the more expensive cow parts, it's filet mignon.

I kind of find it fun to watch videos where a butcher cuts up wagyu beef because it's a luxury that I can't justify spending on myself. But after a certain point this stuff stops feeling like fantasy, and begins feeling cruel. Maybe this guy has special connections where he can get that much crab for below wholesale prices, or has special deals with farmers to get a $60 whole tenderloin when he wants. But its more likely he's just rich, or is projecting the image of being rich using investor or sponsorship money.

The USA has leadership right now that dismantled any agency that can control bird flu and is blaming egg prices on its enemies. Normal people will be watching their grocery bills further skyrocket due to isolationist tariffs, rent, utilities, and medical prices take more out of their food budgets than ever before. And it would not surprise me if the plan to make up the difference after the feds round up low-wage immigrant workers is to send them right back to work but like, even more literally enslaved.

And youtube wants me to see the altreality where some random guy brings the economic collapse of largely indigenous alaskan fishing communities, and cubed filet mignon, to a tailgate??? what 'let them eat cake' bs is this???

#food #influencer culture #add in that most people dont have time and there is a skills gap in cooking food where I live #and you have these videos tantalizing people who cannot access the cheapest way to feed themselves with the most expensive BS #like at what point do people just start hunting who makes these videos with Spears

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cas-spirit · 3 months ago

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@ancha-aus has been making a Subnautica/UTMV au, and it got me thinking

(This is unrelated to ancha’s au, but she inspired this thinking exercise. Go check out her project!!! It's very interesting.) (Sorry if you don't like getting tagged Ancha)

What species I would give each Sans (I haven’t played below zero yet, so there are only animals from the original)

Classic: Gasopod

~~~They strike me as chill fish

Swap: Rabbit Ray

~~~Vibes

Fell: Biter

~~~It was between Biter and Crashfish, but I don't see Fell as that self destructive

Outer: Ampeel

~~~The white spots at the end of it's spikes makes me think of stars, especially if they were glowing in the dark ocean

Geno: Ghost Ray

~~~It was between Ghost Ray and Jellyray, but Ghost Rays appear in the Lost River, a hard to reach place like the Save Screen is

Ccino: Cuddlefish

~~~A friendly face for a friendly face

Farm: Skyray

~~~These guys are above water animals, so Farm can still do his namesake, probably watching over the farms previous crash survivors left behind

Epic: Warper

~~~These guys scared the shit out of me in my game. But, they're strong and purple

Color: Sea trader Leviathan

~~~He's absorbed six human souls, he can be a leviathan, but Color gives me the vibes of a wanderer, someone who can't stay in one place

Delta: River Prowler

~~~Vibes

Dust: Stalker

~~~Their whole sneaky factor reminds me of how Dust is normally quite, probably sneaking up on people without meaning to

Horror: Sand shark

~~~Exploding out of the ground makes me think of Horror and I can't explain why

Killer: Bone shark

~~~These guys are very persistent, almost followed me back to my base in my game

Cross: Crabsquid

~~~Apparently you can hatch these guys to guard your base? Literal guard behavior

Nightmare: Sea Dragon leviathan

Dream: Sea Emperor leviathan

~~~The difference between Dream being more of a peacekeeper/passive while Nightmare won't take shit/is more aggressive

Ink: Reefback OR Sea Dragon leviathan

~~~He plants multicolored coral on his back to look colorful OR being the one Leviathan with arm/hand adjacent limbs would be helpful for creating things

Error: Reaper leviathan

~~~Had to make him the most aggressive Leviathan

Reaper: Ghost leviathan

~~~While it was tempting to make him a reaper leviathan, he's not that aggressive. The Ghost leviathan's glow gives it an otherworldly feel, which I think matches the god of death.

(Bonus) Passive: Mesmer

~~~Vibes

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giant-tiny-fiber-friends · 11 months ago

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Nalbinding in G/T

Fiber Arts | Knitting | Crochet | Sewing

Honestly, this was the post I was most excited to make when I started this blog! I haven't seen many people talking about nalbinding, as it's not as widely known, but I think it could be a dark horse g/t fiber art.

The name nalbinding comes from Danish, literally meaning needle binding. It's a way to produce fabric from short pieces of wool yarn, using a large and blunt sewing needle-shaped tool to create stitches looped through one another. Tension can be kept over the thumb or the needle itself, and when torn or worn down, the fabric will not unravel!

It predates knitting and crochet by many centuries, although in form it is most similar to the latter. One stitch is worked at a time by running the needle through the working loops and the ever-growing fabric. There are many types of stitches with differing densities, tensions, and functions. Like crochet, nalbinding is very good for making things with odd or circular shapes, like socks or mittens or hats.

Nalbinding came into my radar when someone adjacent to my crafting circles asked about it, and I fell down the rabbit hole. It's still a relatively new craft to me, but it's gotten me so excited by the idea of sharing this with the g/t community!

For a brief history and demonstration of nalbinding (mostly to keep this post from being entirely too long) I highly recommend this short video. It certainly piqued my interest when I first heard of nalbinding!

The Potential

Nalbinding would be one of the easiest crafts to maintain by a tiny or a giant, in my opinion! For one thing, it's designed to use shorter amount of yarn at a time compared to knitting or crochet, which could be handy in environments of scarce wool sourcing (like a giant or tiny scavenging for materials). Wool would be ideal, since the fibers at the end of the yarn can easily be felted together in order to join a new strand, but it could likely be done with any fiber available.

The needles would be easy to come by as well since they can be made of wood, antler, or bone. So long as those materials are around, one can make a long, wide, and flat needle to use!

There are also more open-weave forms of nalbinding that could be great for mesh fabrics! Great for hunting/fishing for more outdoorsy giants/tinies, or bags for carrying larger items made with more conservative amounts of materials. Here's a tutorial video of someone using this looping style of nalbinding with plant fibers:

youtube

Nalbinding is a newer craft for me, and I'm still taking time to learn more about it! The project I have on the needle right now is going to be a small pouch-style bag; I'm not working from a proper pattern, sort of using the intuition I've learned from crochet to start a circular shape for the base, and now I'm working up the straight sides. It's still in the early stages, so it resembles a shallow bowl more than anything at the moment, but it's coming along!

This is definitely more of a ramble than previous posts at this point, but this is a craft I don't see talked about a ton and I more so wanted to put in on the g/t community radar to hopefully get a conversation started! Let me know if this sparks interest, I'd love to see other ideas for the g/t potential with this fiber art!

#g/t fiber arts #gt fiber arts #g/t community #gt community #giant tiny #borrowercore #giantcore #tinycore #g/t vibes #g/t #g/t nalbinding #gt nalbinding

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year ago

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Oliver and His Company

[A/N: This can be read as a standalone, but if you want context on Aaron & reader’s relationship, find their story here and here! Enjoy 🖤]

4 times Aaron Hotchner refused to admit that he’s a cat person…

1) A Spicy Upgrade

“I swear, Em, it was like an out of body experience,” you tell your best friend through the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you balance grocery bags in one hand and fish your keys out of your pocket with the other.

“So everything was just backwards?” Emily laughs.

“Yes!” you cry, equal parts miffed by your dream and excited to have somehow slotted the key into the lock in the correct orientation without looking. “Pen was, like, fifty shades of beige, and everyone else was super bright and colorful! Hotch was wearing a suit worthy of Elle Woods herself,” you assert.

“I would pay a stupid amount of money to see that,” your best friend snickers. “Can we please get him a pink suit?”

“Not gonna lie, he looked pretty hot,” you muse quietly as you shuffle down the hall to the kitchen. “I’ll work on…that…”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately, sorry to have worried her. “Just found my man in an interesting position. Call you later, love you, bye,” you rush out in a whisper, ending the call and snapping a photo for your personal album before the opportunity disappears. Clearing your throat, you place the last of the grocery bags on the counter with a solid thud. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

Aaron’s answer is muffled given the fact his head is currently in the spice cabinet, the rest of his tall form tucked under him, ass comically up in the air for better leverage. You bend down with a groan and open the adjacent cabinet to pop your head in, meeting his sheepish smile and reddening cheeks. Pressing your lips to his, you murmur, “I didn’t quite get that.“

“I said-” He pauses to capture your lips in another sweet kiss, and the butterflies that have taken up residence in your belly since the first day you met Aaron Hotchner stir to life. “I read online that it’s easier for cats to open doors with handles than knobs, so I’m fixing all the doors before you move in.”

“You’re what?” You bump your head against the top of the cabinet in shock, letting out a harsh curse that you’re glad Jack isn’t around to hear.

“Oh, honey,” Aaron tuts softly, unfolding himself from his spot to help you out and delicately rubbing the tender area on the back of your head.

“You- by yourself- you’re swapping out every single handle in this house for Oliver?” You don’t mean to sound incredulous, but there’s no way this man is real. Then again, he bought this house six months into your relationship so that you could each have an office space and ample room for Jack and one or two additional little Hotchners to grow up- although he hadn’t divulged the latter part of that plan to you when he gifted you a key.

“I know it sounds ridiculous-”

“No,” you cut him off immediately, molding your palms against his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss, your lips quirking up in a victorious grin. “It sounds like something a loving cat dad would do.”

Aaron scoffs before muttering, “Just don’t want him getting stuck, that’s all.”

“Right,” you draw out the word, one eyebrow raised playfully. “Totally not cause you’re a cat person. And that’s why I spotted an empty box sporting a picture of a cat tree as tall as you in the garage?”

“I never said I dislike cats, I’m just a dog guy!” Aaron insists, his words falling on deaf ears as you playfully hum a tune from The Aristocats while arranging the groceries in the fridge and he returns to his project.

2) A Sleepy Surprise

Toeing your shoes off in the mud room, you call out, “Boys? I’m home!” The novelty of getting to say those words has yet to wear off even though the last of your moving boxes are piled up on the curb, waiting to be recycled.

There’s no answering pitter patter of feet in the hallway nor voices greeting your arrival, but the sneakers lined up next to yours- one large pair in understated colors, one much smaller pair with Darth Vader on one shoe and Luke Skywalker on the other- tell you your little family is definitely home. You place your car keys on their designated hook before making your way down the hall, pausing at the threshold of the living room with a smile on your face at the sight before you.

Aaron’s lying on his back, his tall form taking up the entire length of the couch, with Jack tucked into his side and an orange ball of fur curled up on his chest, rising and falling with each peaceful breath of his. You let out a content sigh, warmth blooming in your chest from the overwhelming sense of comfort and love these three have brought into your life. Holding your hair back so it doesn’t tickle your darling boy’s face, you press a delicate kiss to his cheek and his mouth turns upward for the briefest of moments. Then you nuzzle your nose against the soft fur between your cat’s ears, and he stirs with a half-hearted chirp before curling up even tighter on his literal man-made bed.

“You’re home,” Aaron murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper with a guilty pout, carding your fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to make dinner.”

He grabs your hand before you can get too far, and you turn back to find just who exactly Jack inherited the puppy dog eyes from. “We can order in tonight. Stay with me?”

You gesture to the full couch and ask, “Where?”

Aaron tips his chin down to see Oliver purring contentedly on his chest, and he taps his head until the cat sits up with bleary eyes. “You’re in your mom’s spot.”

You stifle a laugh as your cat pointedly yawns in your boyfriend’s face, then takes his time using Aaron’s solid body to stretch before flouncing away in search of a bed with less attitude. Aaron looks up at you with a self-satisfied grin and pats the newly vacated space. Shaking your head as you ease yourself down to lay across his body, you chide, “That was mean.”

“Never too young to learn about sharing,” he pontificates.

“Mm, yes, what a poignant lesson from father to son,” you respond, voice muffled against Aaron’s chest.

“Step-cat, at best. And don’t you even say it- I’m not a cat person.”

“Sure, babe.”

3) A New Purr-spective

“Jack-Jack,” you call out with a knock against the doorframe to get the little Hotchner’s attention. He looks up from his latest art project with a smile and says, “Yeah?”

“Daddy washed your uniform so you’re all set for tomorrow’s game. And I wanted to ask you about…this,” you offer hesitantly, flipping the shirt in your hands around so he can see Hotchner displayed at the top and the number matching his jersey. “Would it be okay if I wore this so we can match?”

“Does Daddy have one, too?” His excitement- and nonchalance about you sporting their last name- has relief flooding through you, and you mirror his eager smile.

“Of course! Except his is even cooler cause it says ‘Coach’ on the front,” you respond with a click of your teeth. “I made one for Uncle Dave, too!”

“Awesome. You’re the best!” Jack proclaims.

“No, you are.”

“Nu uh, you,” he insists.

“Nope! You!” You let the word be drawn out as you make your escape down the hall, peals of laughter from Jack’s room echoing behind you.

“I have received official approval to wear my shirt,” you announce as you cross into the master bedroom, only to find the space empty. You can hear Aaron’s voice in hushed tones from the walk-in closet, so you approach quietly thinking that he’s on the phone.

“…not exactly your textbook psychopath, right?” He pauses, then continues, “Right. So there must be a piece of the profile we’re missing, something that explains the evolution of the kills with the alarming disorganization of the crime scenes. Do you think we could be dealing with two unsubs?”

Aaron’s phone is on the bedside table, and he’s using both hands to wrestle one of his dress shirts onto a hanger. Then, you spot his silent partner- Oliver’s sitting in his bed, in the nook that Aaron built into the closet for him, languidly cleaning his paws as your boyfriend theorizes aloud.

“So,” you start, crossing your arms and leaning against the wide doorframe, “you still maintain that you’re not a cat person?”

You can see the back of Aaron’s neck turning red at having been caught, but he studiously carries on putting the clean laundry away. Without turning to face you, he asserts, “I’m just… using him as a soundboard. Animals are excellent judges of character.”

“Congratulations, Ollie,” you offer proudly to your son, “you’re the very first cat to join the Behavioral Analysis Mew-nit.”

“Now that’s bad, even for you,” Aaron chuckles, and you bark out a, “Hey!” with faux umbrage. “When are you going to admit you love this cat?”

“I do love this cat,” your boyfriend counters, finally turning to face you. He curls his arm around your waist to pull you against him and speaks between kisses dotted along your nose and cheeks, “I’m just not a cat person.”

Smoothing your hands across his chest with playfully narrowed eyes, you mutter, “The Hotchner doth protest too much, methinks.”

4) Paw-sitively Whipped

“Bedtime, my little bubbas,” you raise your voice to be heard over the churning of the dishwasher as it starts up, drying your hands on a towel while you walk into the living room. Jack is sprawled out on the floor, flicking a feather toy on a stick back and forth that has Ollie frantically giving chase. You’re honestly not sure which little guy is more entertained by the game. “But I’m helping Oliver get his exercise! Daddy says he’s looking chunky lately,” Jack negotiates.

You and your cat turn to Aaron in unison, the man in question suddenly engrossed in an article on his phone. “Daddy’s lawyer genes certainly passed on to you, huh, Jack?” The little Hotchner grins proudly up at you in response, but even that sweet face doesn’t break your resolve. “C’mon, my love, we left off at a really good cliffhanger last night, remember?”

“You’re right,” Jack gasps, suddenly inspired to get ready for bed. “I’ll be ready in two minutes!”

“Make it three- you need to brush your teeth for a full two, Jack,” Aaron calls as he zooms past you to his bathroom.

“Okay!”

“Alright, Weight Watchers,” you snort, tweaking Aaron’s nose while he looks up at you sheepishly, “who’s on reading duty tonight?”

“I’ve got it,” he declares, tugging on your hand to guide you into his open lap. You settle against him with a sigh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and pressing lazy kisses to his skin. Aaron turns his head to capture your lips in a sweet kiss that quickly grows more heated, and you let out a whimper when he cups the back of your neck to hold you more firmly to him until Jack’s little voice rings out down the hall.

“I’m ready for bed!”

“And that’s your cue, Daddy,” you laugh, patting his chest fondly before detaching yourself from him.

“We’ll pick this up later,” he declares in a murmur, and you can’t resist a smack to his shapely ass before parting ways in the hall.

You run through your own nightly routine, then make your way back to Jack’s room to say goodnight. You find Aaron with his son settled on his lap as he reads, and Ollie is settled on his favorite boy’s lap, purring up a storm. Your boyfriend is absentmindedly scratching his chin, pausing only to turn to the next page in the book. Then Aaron shifts to hold the book with both hands, and Ollie bats at his arm until he relents and resumes petting him. He looks up to find you standing in the doorway, the ghost of a smirk twitching at your lips, and you mouth, You are so a cat person.

He smiles back and shakes his head in response, refusing to give in.

…and the 1 time he finally did.

When you open the front door, you’re surprised to find the house dark. Given your shared line of work and healthy dose of paranoia, you and Aaron always leave at least one light on when the house is empty. But then you hear Jack giggle, “She’s coming!” and Aaron quietly shushing him, and a smile graces your face at whatever adorable surprise awaits you.

You flip on the light to find the foyer decorated with balloons dancing across the ceiling and streamers hanging down, each one adorned with pictures of you and Aaron, you and Jack, and your little family together. Your eyes immediately well up with tears seeing all the memories you’ve created and thinking about all the love you’ve been blessed with thanks to this family.

You walk through, awestruck, touching the Polaroids and printed pictures as you pass them. By the time you reach the living room and your eyes settle on Aaron with Jack standing pressed against his leg, your little boy holding your cat in his arms, you’re damn near sobbing.

“This is why you sent me to get my nails done, huh?” you ask through a half sniffle, half laugh. “You boys certainly were busy.”

Aaron smiles at you and holds out his free hand, and you grab onto him like a lifeline, letting him pull you in before bending down to press a flurry of kisses along Jack’s squishy cheeks. Ollie lets out a squeak of protest in the same timbre as Jack’s ticklish giggle, and you relent your attack with a pleased grin.

“Jack has a very important question to ask you,” Aaron murmurs, then winks at his son.

Jack raises Ollie up as high as he can, not unlike the scene out of The Lion King, and a glint of light flashes at you from your cat’s collar.

“Aaron,” you breathe out, moments before Jack excitedly asks, “Will you marry us, Y/N?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer softly, looking up at Aaron as if he hung all the stars in the sky to find your adoring gaze reflected in his eyes.

—————

Lying in bed that night tangled up between the sheets and Aaron’s legs, you absentmindedly trail your fingers across his chest and muse, “Mighty interesting that a vehemently self-proclaimed not cat person would use a cat to propose, isn’t it?”

“You’re still on this, hm?” he murmurs from above you, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Merely making an observation,” you answer back lazily, then roll over until you body is nestled between his legs, your hands pressed against his chest so you can look at him directly. “I lied, I’m still on this,” you concede with a playful grin. “Look me in my eyes and tell me you’re not a cat person, Aaron Hotchner.”

He hums, then leans up to capture your lips in a series of soft, slow kisses that nearly make you forget your name, let alone the challenge you’ve posed. “Can’t do that, honey,” he finally admits between pecking your lips.

“Cause you are!”

He laughs, his fingers ghosting up and down your spine. Aaron notices you shiver under his touch and pulls the sheets up higher on your body while you settle against the warmth and security of his broad chest. “Honestly, I have been since day one.”

“Oh yeah?” You attempt to goad him, but your sass come out muffled thanks to your lips pressed to his skin.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly as if you haven’t been lovingly arguing about this for over a year now. “He was your cat, and I’m a you person.”

Pushing against him to stretch up and level him with a raised eyebrow, you clarify, “Wait. He was my cat?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Now Ollie’s ours.”

“Everybody thinks you’re such a hardass, but you’re really a big teddy bear, Aaron,” you tease before pressing your lips to his.

“I’m admittedly both,” he concedes with a chuckle, pausing to kiss you again before adding, “and a reformed cat person.”

—————

[A/N: I absolutely adored writing these two and I enjoyed getting to sprinkle in a healthy dose of cat puns 😂 Thank you all for reading!]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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b-blushes · 1 month ago

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green woodpecker-inspired suncatcher for a friend! this was the most challenging one so far to assemble, lining up all the layers and colours was tricky but i'm so happy with how it turned out (: ID: video without sound of a sparkly felt bird with a suncatcher pendant. the bird is based on a green woodpecker and is made of mid-green felt, with dark grey feathers on the tail and wing tips, a cream and grey face, and a red 'cap'. iridescent sequins are sewn across it that catch the light. it hangs on silver thread with holographic star sequins strung through it, and a teardrop suncatcher pendant which is casting small rainbows as the sun shines through it. End ID

#autoplay #fish project #fish adjacent project #woodpecker project #sent off to a dear friend! :3

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rjzimmerman · 9 months ago

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Excerpt from this story from Mother Jones:

The North Cascades elk herd is a cluster of some 1,600 animals whose domain, like so many habitats, is riven by a highway. From 2012 to 2019, Washington state records show, at least 229 elk were killed by cars along a stretch of State Route 20 in the Skagit Valley. The situation imperils humans, too: In 2023, a motorist died after swerving around an elk into a telephone pole. “My own nephew had an elk collision, and I’ve nearly had collisions myself over the years,” said Scott Schuyler, a member of the Upper Skagit Indian Tribe, who is also the tribe’s natural resources and cultural policy representative. “We have an obligation to protect our neighbors and ourselves and these animals.”

To many observers, the solution has long been clear: a wildlife bridge, flanked by fencing. But building such a structure would cost around $8.5 million, a daunting expense. “There didn’t seem to be any money out there on the horizon that could make this happen,” said Jennifer Sevigny, a biologist with the nearby Stillaguamish Tribe of Indians, which co-manages the elk herd.

That changed in November 2021, when Congress passed the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law—a package that included the Wildlife Crossings Pilot Program (WCPP), a grant initiative that would distribute $350 million over five years to states, Native tribes and other entities for animal-friendly infrastructure. Although Sevigny knew the competition for grants would be fierce, she submitted a proposal for an elk bridge when the program launched in 2023. “Honestly, I didn’t think we were going to get it,” she said.

When the recipients of the first $110 million in grants were announced in December 2023, however, the Stillaguamish was among them. Once the grant agreement is finalized, the tribe will partner with the Upper Skagit to convene biologists and engineers to design the bridge, which is expected to take four years to construct.

The Skagit Valley overpass wasn’t the only tribal winner: Of the 10 Western wildlife crossing projects selected for the initial round of WCPP funding, four were Native-led. “It was really awesome to see that (experience) come to fruition,” said Shailyn Wiechman, connectivity coordinator at the Native American Fish and Wildlife Society and a member of the Chippewa-Cree Tribe of the Rocky Boy’s Indian Reservation. But tribal-led connectivity projects on and adjacent to reservations still face obstacles—and money remains a big one.

#wildlife crossings #tribal lands #Bipartisan Infrastructure Law

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kat1nkulta · 6 months ago

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Writing a masterpost of my silly fic as a trick to make myself want to finish writing the thing

A summary post about a nameless doll and the fanfic ”Fish inside a birdcage” they star in

(Genshin Impact OC)

Tags:

OC & Scaramouche, OC & Nahida, OC & The Traveler (+Paimon)

Hurt/Comfort, Blind character, Pre-canon/ canon adjacent, sibling bond, identity discovery, very unfrequent updates Im so sorry

Link to the blasted thing I forgot to include originally

Summary:

”Fish inside a Birdcage” is a fic inspired and named after a song of the same name by a band of the same name as well.

The story stars a nameless protagonist stuck in a dream realm where time is stationary.

The character in question is a (yet unnamed in the story) prototype for Ei’s archon project. This prototype is one of the earlier ones, and as such is much cruder work. They are missing parts, and were never meant to wake/ gain a soul at all. Just a test on how a wooden vessel would withstand an Archon’s essence; a forgettable hallmark amongst ”the countless attempts” in creating a worthy vessel

This test was successful, but by error and unbeknownst to their creator, that essence trapped the poor thing in a singular moment inside a dream. Luckily for them, they aren’t alone and soon meet another unfortunate soul in form of their successor: another nameless puppet going by the title Kabukimono

This fic was largely based on Ei’s second character story talking about the building of the Raiden Shogun, as well as my then very time consuming fixation on Scaramouche.

The nameless doll (OC):

As the story is incomplete and is focusing on the OC’s self discovery, I will keep the name to myself for a little longer. It has been decided a good while ago however, and is mentioned in post fic art dump chapter

Disclaimer: This character uses they/them pronouns, however in the first chapters, they, as well as the narration refer to themselves with it/its pronouns as a form of self objectification. This could be a sore topic for some, so I want to specify this now!

(Looking back I probably chose too many heavy topics to tackle in my first ever writing, so please feel free to let me know if I handle this or the disabilities I represent in a lackluster way! I will be eternally grateful)

Moving onto design

This is the closest thing to a character sheet I have drawn, it’s what I use as my drawing reference. The no eyes look is based on dolls of course, as often eyes are the last things glued in for the doll head. Working eyes are hard to craft even for an archon, so many of these ”meant-to-be-souless” prototypes lack eyes or other harder to craft extremities. The second artwork is what I use as a reference for their hands so I included it here

Interractions with Kabukimono (Scaramouche for the unitiated)

These two had a nice bond before the Tatarasuna Incident, so whenever I’ve drawn them together in the past, I focus on the time before that.

All of these drawings are quite old (outside one), I feel bad but I have not drawn this poor thing since them so they will suffice🥲

Aand that’s all for now!! I think!!

This is more for myself than anything so if you are reading this, thank you? And feel free to drop any comments, I don’t bite (anonymous asks are welcomed as well)!!

Back to regularly scheduled Loop slop see you next time

#my art #genshin fanart #fanfic infodump #<- hopefully wont become a tag on intro post #genshin oc #genshin fanfic #this author does not update regularly btw #scaramouche #wanderer #scara fans be nice i’m very sensitive

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gatheredfates · 23 days ago

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I said I was going to do a new drive for the New Year! It's a teensy bit late, but it's the thought that counts.

Hi! My name is Sea, and I like to collect things. 💙

Specifically, as of February this year, I have made it my mission to collect as many resources for the Final Fantasy community as I can; including, but not limited to: Communities, Events, Free Companies, How-To Guides, Lore, Tools and more! I have compiled them into Sea's Community Compendium for FFXIV Creatives, a venture I hope will service as a directory for new and old FFXIV players alike to find places and things they might not otherwise know about, and I'm proud to say that the Compendium has over a hundred individual entries!

...But I want more.

Specifically, as much as this is a call to introduce new people to the Compendium, it is a call for anyone who might know of specific resources/communities that not in the document to take a moment's time out of their day to let me know about them. You can submit specific resources via:

My tumblr dm's.

This handy google form.

Or SEAFLOOR, my support and social community for the Compendium and adjacent projects.

You do not need to be a resource/server owner to submit; there just needs to be a publicly accessible link. ✨

Projects like mine equally cannot survive without the support of the community. If you like what I do, please reblog this post or share it with your friends; post it in your community servers or link it on your social media(s). The more visibility I get, the larger the Compendium becomes and the more likely you are to find a resource or community to suit your needs.

Okay, but really, Is my space suitable for the Compendium? Most of the time, yes! Below the read more is some more information/stipulations. This is all publicly available on the document.

Below are the following things I do not accept on the Compendium:

Personal/Single-Character LFC ads. (Though these get posted to the SEAFLOOR Tumblr Community when I find them!)

Content intended for or can be used for bullying, harassment and OOC gossip. E.g. ‘Secrets’ blogs, receipts, callout posts, etc. This does not include IC tabloid blogs or other ventures used to generate roleplay.

Communities that do not have an RP/writing element (large-scale exempt).

Modding outside of general how-to guides and compendiums of a similar spirit to this. This is for no other reason other than I do not want the document to be drowned in mod-related links.

Anything I find personally distasteful or goes against the spirit of this project.

Common-sense rule applies.

I want to put my community on the Compendium but we have an application process. Is this okay?

Yes! Just note somewhere in your application that's a requirement. The only thing that is mandatory for the Compendium is that you must be open to new members or have a public-facing/accessible facet. There's no point advertising a community if no one can join it in some way!

I want to put my Community on the compendium but I only have x number of members —

Also totally okay! People don't start with large communities. Activity is a must but, whether your server has two or two thousand members, if you're looking for new people to join, I'd love to help you find people.

I want to put my community/resource on the Compendium but I worry its too niche?

Okay, and? If your Eorzean Fishing Alliance has four members but you roleplay every second weekend, I still want to know about it. The same goes for resources; if it's relevant to the game, it'll be useful to someone.

How active does a community need to be?

If you find a community has not been active in about two/three months, send me a message and I'll take a look at it. Communities have ebbs and flows, especially event spaces that may take hiatuses depending on member interest/life events. I'm not strict in my implementation provided a space isn't dead. If a link or anything is broken, contact me asap!

I have [insert a question not stated here]?

No drama! Send me an ask or use the #Compendium channel in my Discord!

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv community #final fantasy xiv roleplay #ffxiv roleplay #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea's community compendium

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melodiousmonsters · 2 years ago

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Alright for the first somewhat finished page for my "monstiary" project is blow't because a friend asked me to draw one, I got hyperfixated, and then ended up with a whole bunch of drawings.

btw I'm going to start infodumping on almost all the art posts I make for the time being because I want to talk about my cannon-adjacent version of the monster world more so here we go.

Blow'ts are large amphibious monsters with anatomy somewhat between that of a fish and a mammal. btw I feel like blow't is a very underrated design because people tend to base what's cool or not on a more "terrestrial" frame of reference. But if you think of fish or something (particularly spiny lumpsuckers in this context) something may seem much more interesting design-wise. Like lumpsuckers they have those weird suction cup fins on the bottom of their bodies, which are mostly used for walking actually. Unless it's a baby, then they'll stick to whatever they want whenever they want with no regard to anyone else's wishes

To support their massive sizes blow'ts are filter feeders that primarily eat the stardust that falls from the aurora monstralis out of the air (or water if it ends up in there). Their spines are obviously covered in ridges, but what's less known is those ridges are full of openings to chambers that absorb oxygen and stardust like an unholy combination of lungs and the intestines.

Blow'ts breath in through their spines to not constantly be making noise and out through their non existant noses. Adding nose holes would clutter their face too much so just pretend they have noses ok? When blow'ts breath out of their spines they produce a sound, and the sound vibrates their spines in a way that makes them glow various colors of the visible light spectrum depending on the note played.

Because biology and evolution leans towards things making music, often inconvenient body plans or biological processes will remain if they mean the creature can make sound, especially in monsters.

While adult blow'ts tend to stay on land a majority of the time, the babies are very fond of the seas around light island and they tend to stay in the water. Because they are smaller and their fins are bigger in proportion to their bodies they can swim. To get enough food to grow to their adult size they may occasionally eat fish or any other small critters they come across, thus the fear this lightsquid, a critter endemic to the oceans around light island, is expressing in the presence of one of it's most efficient predators.

Anyway, if you read through this I hope you enjoyed because this is probably how most of my posts will be formatted. There's going to be more pseudo-scientific monster biology posts later on but if you just want some information without any images you can ask me and I can just type stuff out, maybe with a skribble or two alongside it. Doesn't even need to be biology related if it's just about my msm au thing I'll probably answer it if it's not relevant to the barely existent plot thing.

#my singing monsters #beezleart #art #melodious monster chronicles #blow't

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cannibal-nightmares · 1 year ago

Text

Kaleidos: In Birdsong

Stein is house-ridden due to teetering psychosis. Spirit stops by to check on him.

A preview chapter to a bigger project that will follow after an even bigger project. Honestly pretty much just a drabble and exploration of sorts. what started as a vent piece turned into its whole AU turned into a one-shot. kind of.

Soul Eater - Stein x Spirit (SFW) // hurt+comfort, angst, unreality, actually schizospec author; more tags on AO3 Word count - 4,525 -- [AO3 link] -- [soul resonance]

The thunking at the front entrance seemed violent and incessant in its five raps, the glass panes rattling in their frames. On any normal day the great scientist would have resorted to niceties and manners of opening the door with hardly any question, but this evening was not of the usual: Donning his lab coat snug in the middle, knees to his chest, Stein hid in a shadow of his laboratory in the corner closest to the entryway, a surgical knife twitching in his left hand as his arms hugged his legs.

“Stein?” A familiar voice cut through the air beyond the wall. “Are you home?”

He couldn’t think to move. As much as he wanted to invite the visitor in, his mouth wouldn’t say the words.

“It’s Spirit, Franken. I’m just here to see how you’re doing.”

Stein stalled to think, reaching into his right pocket to retrieve a robotic mouse. He set it on the floor and bopped its head, sending it on its way to loop into the darkness and somewhere outside to greet their guest. Shortly in response, the creaky research door opened to parallel him.

“Glad to know those little guys still work.” The man entering gently amused. His countenance dropped when he looked around and was unable to immediately find the doctor hunched over a project at his desk.

Stein watched the figure close, dissecting every thread of his blazer, every crease in his skin that he could see; shadows oozed from out of place folds, tangling his body until his form no longer seemed human enough to trust. The doctor’s throat tensed and he drew in a shakier breath than he would have cared to admit to. It was enough noise for the death scythe to notice, pushing the door further closed behind him to reveal the professor sitting smally on the floor. Before their eyes met, Stein slipped the blade to the left of him and the illusion of tangling blackness started to fade away.

“What are you doing down there?” Interrogation did not cross his tone.

When he spoke, his own voice didn’t sound like it belonged to him. “You would not believe me if I told you.”

Spirit met him in a crouch. “Try me.” He said gently, but it wasn’t enough to get the doctor to crack. Franken held his eye contact until the pools of his friend’s irises swirled inward and forced him to look away to the blank wall. The blatant and unadulterated uncertainty surprised Albarn into a sad sort of shock.

“How are you, Stein?”

“You know how I don’t like rhetoricals.” He snapped a little faster than he intended.

“I can’t care for my loved ones? I’m hurt.” Spirit joked. He tsked playfully to himself and searched the professor’s face while he was turned away; he looked more than exhausted and his pupils were like pin dots.

“Your students have been asking about you.” Death scythe rested criss-cross adjacent from his partner, fishing a cigarette to his mouth and holding another out to Stein.

He hesitated before reaching out to take the dart between his fingers, but denied to have it lit after Spirit sparked his own.

“You don’t want to light it?”

“What do you tell them?”

Albarn acknowledged the shuffle of the interaction with a simple nod. “I tell them you’ve come down with something. Which, I guess, isn’t entirely dishonest.” He let the air hang for a moment so they could gather their thoughts, exhaling smoke. “Maka–you know how smart my little girl is–she sees right through that, you know.”

“You need remind she can see souls now.” Stein gestured to take Spirit’s cigarette in his free hand. “And you’ve never been a skilled liar.”

With the note, Franken took the chance to peek at his other’s soul whilst touching the darts together and inhaling to light his own. The death scythes spirit looked as it always had, still and fortified with a sort of subtle electrical ebbing that boasted of potential energy, but this time there was a slight quavering of worry. Stein was looking for fear, not anxiety, but Albarn yet again proved to unfalteringly trust his partner even in this low time.

He wondered if his own soul perception was to be believed as Spirit’s hair appeared to distort and his face misshapen.

After a drag off his cigarette and handing back the other, he evaded his eyes by rubbing between his brows with his thumb.

“It’s sweet, in a way, they’ve even made you cards–”

“Please don’t bring anything here.”

Spirit readjusted his attention. “I won’t until you’re ready for them. I know you well enough.” There must have been a tell, because his next question was almost on cue. “Respectfully, Stein, how are your… Are you…”

Stein couldn’t stifle a strained chuckle that evolved into a stressed out giggle. His hands shook as he wanted to cover his face but became too aware of the coincidental timing as if it would tell something to Spirit that wasn’t true. Eventually, he couldn’t hold it any longer, and he cranked at his screw nervously, shielding his face with his right hand allowing smoke to cast over their heads.

“Am I still hallucinating?” He choked through a broken grin. “Death scythe, you’re fucking melting.” Their eyes locked with ever-distancing contrast. The contact made him laugh earnestly, but the sheer sound of it made him annoyed, which made him laugh more. He shied his face away again into his knees in addition to the trembling fingers of his cigarette-laden hand, the other turning and turning and turning the bolt in his head, his grip turning his knuckles white.

“Stein…” Albarn reached out to take the professor’s wrist to keep him from ripping the screw out of his skull, but the air immediately around him felt like static electricity that had him take enough pause to heed the man’s next hissed warning.

“Spirit, before you even think about touching me, I need you to be aware of the scalpel next to my side.”

Albarn missed a beat and almost hoped Stein couldn’t see him break out in a cold sweat the instant he eyed the glint of metal.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m going to put it away, alright?”

Stein couldn’t respond with anything more than a choked involuntary giggle.

Why did he have this ready? Death scythe dared to wonder. He tried to subtly flick his eyes over him in the dim light whilst rolling the instrument towards himself, but he wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. Slow and intentionally predictable in his movements, Spirit rose to put the knife in a desk drawer, out of sight, and returned to where he was by his partner.

“When was the last time you slept, Stein?” He delicately slipped a hand past the doctor’s fidgeting arm to rest firmly on his shoulder. Stein was buzzing with electricity and felt warm even through his coat.

He kept his eyes strained tightly closed, listening closely to his friend’s voice with an intensity impossibly unbeknownst to Albarn. The clicking of his screw was soothing.

“What day is it now?”

“Tuesday afternoon.”

Stein looked up at the ceiling; a drag off his cigarette calmed his nerves steady for just a few seconds. “Friday night into Saturday.” He let his legs relax in front of him; Spirit’s company was doing more for him than he anticipated it could. The cog stilled, but he kept his fingers resting on it.

Death scythe nodded.

Then he tilted his head with a sincere smile.

“Would you be up for a walk?”

“A walk? Where?”

“Anywhere. Some sunlight may do you some good.”

“I don’t know if I could face running into anyone.” Stein remarked earnestly.

“Hmm…” Albarn thought. “Let’s get you dressed in some fresh clothes and see how you feel then. If you’re still not up to it, there’s no obligation. Deal?” He took his palm away from his friend’s shoulder and held it out patiently for him to take. Franken observed it as if it could bite him.

“You sell a hard bargain,” but his tone didn’t match his shell-shocked expression.

Spirit grinned and stood half-bent, gesturing to free up Stein’s balance by offering to hold his cigarette for him, his own smoke on his lip. The scientist accepted and took his partner’s right hand in his, but they were both surprised to find that he didn’t have the preparation under his feet to get up so soon and Spirit swiftly caught him upright under the arm.

“You alright?”

Stein allowed himself to pause and stared into the dark intently. Eventually, he let himself out from Albarn’s hold and patted him on the back in some attempt of reassurance.

“Could you turn the light on?” He asked quietly as he trudged to his room. “I can’t seem to do it, myself.”

Wordlessly, Spirit complied.

Seeing the laboratory in the light shouldn’t have been more of a surprise than what the death scythe anticipated. Stein had always been a rather tidy person, but the condition of his office would have suggested otherwise; if it were any other given circumstance Albarn would have thought to help straighten things up, but knew it would, instead, spook Stein’s current state of mind if he even offered the gesture. Mugs on his desk made him consider something.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He called through the wall. With no response, he peeked his head into his partner’s room.

“Stein?”

“One thing at a time, please, Death Scythe…” Franken was faced away from the entrance towards his wardrobe and tapped his forehead to its door in tired defeat as Spirit switched on a lamp. In the light, Stein's hair was more evidently heavy from not being washed.

“Would you like some help?” The weapon had crossed the room to comfortingly touch his meister’s back, but he only gasped in reaction, jerking around in terrored surprise. What frightened Spirit was the short crackling of electricity in Stein’s flexed hands.

“Woah,” Spirit soothed, “it’s still me,” he poorly jested. “Did you want some help?” He repeated, if not to emphasize his want to assist, then to reassure the doctor that it was most definitely his voice he might have heard.

“No…” He hesitated. Stein was looking like a cornered animal; Albarn leaned back on his heel as a gesture of giving him space. “No, thank you. Sorry, Spirit…”

Death Scythe knew him well enough to realize how out of character any sort of apology was. With a nod, Spirit tried to keep it casual by stepping around and sitting on the edge of his bed, awkwardly, then, lying half of his body back resolutely, blankly looking at the ceiling and tending to his cigarette–he wanted to appear as unthreatening as possible, but it didn’t keep Stein from staring. He didn’t make a statement against it.

It took significant time before the professor was able to finally open the armoire to retrieve something to wear, but once he could look upon the selection it seemed as though each choice had a cascade of consequences behind each of them: The plush white turtleneck was the most comfortable, but it would tell his secrets to on-lookers; the dark purple thermal was practical, but it had a habit of whispering lies; a light grey button-up might be a breath of fresh air, but there was also the chance it could take over his head and have him lash out at the first pedestrian he sees and he wouldn't be able to convince anyone where the source of the idea came from because he can’t just tell people a shirt told him a stranger’s true intentions because then they’d just call him terrible and untrue things–

“Are you okay, dear?” Spirit broke through the swarm of noise, recentering Stein’s attention momentarily. How long was he thinking for? God, where did his cigarette go? It’d be so nice to fidget with right about now…

Franken took a moment to focus on his partner who was crooked with his head perked up, his back flat on the comforter and his long legs stretched out across the floor. The death scythe seemed steady in his attention in contrast to the fraying edges of his vision and this comforted him slightly. Carefully he thought about the question.

“...Could you pick something out for me? I can’t seem to allow myself to make the decision.”

“I get to dress the great meister Stein?” Albarn hummed humorously. Immediately, he wondered if his comedy wasn't a relief at all.

The two traded places, Spirit waltzing to the closet and the doctor moving out of the way, coming to rest seated at the foot of the bed. The weapon found a bit of genuine amusement cross his own face.

“You have a wider variety of clothes than I last remember.”

Stein seemed to ignore the comment. “I’m losing my autonomy, Spirit.”

His light heartedness faltered a bit in response. “Only momentarily. It will come back to you.” Albarn turned to raise the item he chose so that the light illuminated his decision: A navy turtleneck made with heavy knitted fabric.

“For now, you have me.” He handed over the hanger to his friend and took one last drag off of his dart, snuffing the butt out in the ashtray on top of the wardrobe.

Stein sunk all of his attention into the texture of the sweater in his hands until it melted straight through his fingers. He closed his eyes and breathed in slow and deep, reopening to the details of his loyal partner in front of him. Why was he so loyal? Why didn’t he understand that his faith wasn’t going to change the reality of things? A whisper started to seep louder.

“I can’t do it.”

“What?”

He tried to suppress the pained giggle that was attempting to distract from the anger in his chest that fought the sadness of feeling alone against the face of indescribable fear. The meister tapped his head firmly with the heel of his palm. He wanted so desperately to hit harder, but grit his teeth to refrain in his current company.

“Hey, really, we don’t have to–” Death Scythe kneeled in front of him but–

“That’s not how this is going to work, Spirit, and you know it.” Stein snapped. His eyes shot to the level of his weapon’s but couldn’t meet his gaze directly, darting his look to either side of his partner’s face. He was growing erratic and couldn’t stop it. “Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but you’re going to end up taking me the fucking infirmary under Lord Death’s order.” Franken was barely able to hear his own words and pushed and bent and twisted his hands more-than-firmly into each other, resisting the need to crank at his screw, to hit himself, to do anything. And he most certainly didn't want to find out if the urge extended to other people.

Albarn couldn’t help but admit to himself the spike of agonizing concern that suddenly stabbed into his chest like a spear. He was growing terrified in his own guidance. At this point, he wasn’t scared of Stein, but for him.

“We’re not going anywhere.” He gently cradled Stein’s elbows, his intonation conveying a small smile without changing his expression at all. “I’ve decided for us. We can stay here.”

Franken wanted time to stop as he rewound the tape and noted the uneven jaggedness of his reactions, fragments of quips looping in his mind. It was all so tiring. The cogs were slipping. The transmission was stuck. He felt like he was coasting and stalling up and down hills. He had no option but to ride the waves. When did Spirit even get here? What convinced him to listen? Somewhere, Stein decided to give in to what he had to be certain was real and he slumped forward, resting his forehead head on his partner’s shoulder, child-like with sigh. If this wasn’t it, then he’d be damned, anyways.

“Wh– Hey–” Spirit adjusted his posture to–quite inelegantly–shift him into a hug from his kneeling height. While the doctor went almost dead-weight, the weapon pulled himself in tight and rubbed his back.

“I’ve got you. Don’t you worry. I’ve got you.”

Soul resonance. It doesn’t always happen in the middle of a battle, it doesn’t always occur paired with a grand exclamation: It can happen when you land a joke with a loved one or when you share a meal, when you effortlessly collaborate with a friend on a passion project or share tears over a loss. Be it a spark or superb explosion, there are nuances of soul resonance that can’t be taught or forced, only organically experienced.

This moment burned slow like a cold flame.

Albarn felt his spirit get swept into the thrashing tide of Stein’s turmoil, and it was his instinct of panic that he had to choke down for their shared sake. Under the water did the waves turn to shrieking television static, incomprehensible messages swirling about and past… Spirit had been here before; while the sights no longer terrified him, it was still all so disheartening. He had to remain calm in remembering that this is where his partner resided all the time, albeit at varying levels of volume. The truth was there was nothing he could do other than be there for him.

And so he waited until his meister let go of the embrace.

“Thank you, Spirit.” He said unpredictably smally.

“My pleasure, Stein.”

The exhausted professor sat up, still hunched, and let his eyes drift around the room where things were seemingly much clearer now. He eyed an inviting beam of sunlight that illuminated a patch of the bare concrete floor.

“Didn’t you say some sunlight might be good for me?”

Spirit was taken a bit back by the change of heart. “Did you change your mind?”

He nodded just once. “With you, I will take your word.”

The two took their time getting dressed and settled, Stein’s moment of pause allowed him to readjust his autopilot so he didn’t have to think about the unbearable weight that the thought of leaving his home had gained an uncertain amount of time ago. Death Scythe helped him dress in the dark blue long sleeved shirt and his most comfortable slacks; he would never be without his lab coat, of course. The sun felt bright on his skin, and the overwhelming feeling of anything at all had him hesitate at the doorstep.

“You just say the word and we’ll head back home.” Spirit reminded.

“I’m fine.” Stein insisted. He genuinely wasn’t sure of the untruth behind the claim.

A noise from behind his eyes argued differently, but Franken found himself grateful to be out. The change of scenery was stimulating. Here and there some of the details of the setting distorted confusingly, but there was enough else to look at, even if it was all the same trees and rocks and shrubs he’d seen over and over on his commutes. At some point, Spirit had started rambling about workplace shenanigans, but Franken inexplicably couldn’t ask him to stop despite the disconcerting mess his mind made with the patterns of his words. All he could do was put a hand to his partner’s shoulder, and Death Scythe knew to change the subject or take pause.

They eventually found themselves at a park on the middle-edge of Death City. Your typical park. There was a lot more noise, naturally, amongst them, some sounds of which Stein could pleasantly listen to, others felt like they had ulterior motives in the depths of birdsong. He spent so much focus jumping these hoops and hurdles of logic and absurdity that he hadn’t even noticed where their journey ended up.

“I forget you can walk on forever.” Spirit half chuffed. “I need a break.” He more-than-willingly rested on a bench, gesturing for his companion to join him if he wanted.

They found themselves sat in front of a basketball court, one that was dusted with vaguely fond memories of recovery. Almost on cue, a familiar cluster of kids bounded around the corner and, before they even touched the pavement, it seemed like they were already in the deep midst of a game of ball. Their typical octet was made a nonet with a new face.

“That’s Kaleidos, our newest meister.” Spirit caught onto Stein’s gaze. “I’ve got the feeling he’s a lot like you in his potential abilities.”

The boy in reference was significantly younger than the juniors and seniors of the group; he wore dress clothes that were out of place in the picture of playing sports, but what was quick to catch anyone’s attention was the blue evil eye pendant that clasped the top of his collar closed and reflected the brilliant blue of his own eyes. Soul Eater–one of the seniors, a boy with white hair and relaxed posture–took a moment to explain the rules of their made up game and took responsibility of splitting the players into teams. They were all quick to fall into a rhythm with one another, two clusters of souls reaching out to taunt and tease and play with one another. Kaleidos, as a newcomer, was naturally a bit awkward at first, but his soul was astonishingly quick to calibrate with each peer he neared, even in the middle of the game.

“No, he's not like me,” Stein allowed his analytical voice to ease out, “though it’s a reasonable conclusion on the surface. He has the ability to mirror anyone–down to the fine details–leaving him with the potential to become absolutely anything he allows enough focus. I read data and adapt. He becomes.”

Spirit chewed on the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t fathom what soul perception was like, but he never knew anyone who had it to be wrong. “You can read all of that from his soul at this distance?”

“Just watch.”

Upon observation of the teen running around, each child had their own style and unique quirks. The boy with stripes in his hair wouldn’t step on the painted lines on the blacktop, one of the girls was quick to delightfully give up the ball to whoever wanted it; Kaleidos immediately followed suit. He knew to be aggressive with the blue haired boy, but to charm him with a laugh of jest, he established the girl with pigtails would follow the rules unless she sparked resonance with Soul. All from merely seconds into the game, the freshman had them all read like books.

“I’m not arguing. His performance as a student already confirms you are right. He can pair with just about anyone, but everyone he pairs with feels overtaken despite his intentions. Sound familiar?”

Stein did not show amusement on his face. He did not look up to Death Scythe when he spoke. “Among anyone we have had at the academy, he is at the most imminent risk of becoming a kishin.”

Albarn’s wavelength shifted drastically in shock of the tone change. “What? Come on, you must be kidding…”

The professor made sure a glint of light didn’t cover his eyes when he chose to make dead eye contact with his partner for the first time that day.

“He may not even have to eat souls to achieve it.”

Spirit couldn’t look away, holding back from letting his mouth go agape–it was about all he had control to prevent–never had Stein been wrong about his readings, but was he in the state to make such conclusions? How clouded was his judgment right now, really? Surely it was time to go home–

“Papa? Professor Stein? What are you both doing here?”

Before them, a dusty-blonde haired girl stood catching her breath. Her expression shifted here and there from comfort in seeing familiar faces, distaste in specific company, but a hint of compassion for surely the sight of her teacher who had been absent for a few days now. He knew she could see his soul, which must have seemed shattered and ebbing inconsistently like a high noon light reflecting off choppy water; maybe if they were both lucky to have any semblance of reassurance, she would have also seen the soft burgundy breeze sweeping the electricity to calm. Maybe if they were unlucky, she would have seen the red start to quaver.

“Oh, hi darling,” Spirit chimed, surprised from out of his thoughts. “We were just getting some fresh air.” He stumbled on his own cadence, realizing now how distracted he was. “Are you winning?”

She gave him a scoff that read of genuine humor and half-hearted annoyance. Not much could get past her, that was for sure.

“We’ve missed your guidance in class, Professor Stein. I hope you get to feel better soon.” Maka Albarn was her name: Valedictorian with a heart of gold. Patience and forgiveness swirled within her soul more than what was warranted, occasionally.

The note caught the doctor off-guard and the feeling of gratefulness gently swept through him once more–he wanted to reply, but found himself unable to speak again. Spirit noticed the hitch in his timing and moved to take his hand comfortingly, starting to reply, himself, but Stein couldn’t seem to hear him as a high-pitched ringing pierced through the scene, putting them all mute. Stein thought he could fake through it, but the image started collapsing in on itself: He was falling, there was darkness–Maka’s face split down the middle and expanded, engulfing him and Spirit– Where was Spirit? He was right here and all of a sudden–

Stein jolted awake from the nightmare, disoriented and abysmally frantic.

“Whoa, easy! It was only a dream,” a familiar voice cooed, but Franken couldn’t yet tell where it was coming from.

“My god, Stein, you’re shaking.”

The meister huffed, trying to figure out where he was and what had happened, though it quickly appeared he had fallen asleep in an embrace with his weapon partner in a frankly rather awkward position sitting up at the foot of his bed.

“Hey, hey.” Spirit hushed. “Are you okay?”

“I–” He took a breath, looking around. His vision was clear of the grotesque shadows that were unspeakably haunting him prior. “I had a nightmare that–” He took a second and reconsidered, shaking his head conclusively and readjusting his attention. “You let me fall asleep on you like that?”

Spirit chuckled. “Stein, you hadn’t slept in three days. I wasn’t going to keep you from any second of sleep that you could get!”

Stein searched his partner’s face for any semblance of unreality, but came up short. An absurdly relieved smile cracked across his expression and he couldn’t hold back an oddly sincere laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Albarn questioned, stretching out a crick in his neck.

“I just–” He put a hand to his forehead to pair with his continued giggling, exhausted but clearer than before.

“I know what I have to do.”

#im about to leave for a trip and i really wanted to leave something before i left ^^#my fanfic #soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #my art #my writing #soul eater stein #soul eater spirit #franken stein #professor stein #spirit albarn #stein #actually schizospec

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