#fyi i would not have read a fic like this unless it was extremely well written

[fangroyal]

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena​, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping. 

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

[love-fireflysong]

yIt's done. It took me waaaay to long to write this piece out but between June and my computer apparently deciding to kick me in the teeth this month, the fact I made it to 5 full squares completed anyways I will gladly take as a victory! And, just fyi, this WILL be the last piece for this month. I know that there is still another four days left of June, but I am sick and tired of dealing with my keyboard so this is the last fic you're gonna see from me until I get a new laptop hopefully fairly soon. (Unless I decide that I'm desperate enough to try and write things out on my tablet of course...)

Anyways, the First Date trope was specifically requested by @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake when I let her know that the one she did guess (road trip) was going to be a second chapter of a twoshot. Which you still might get because I'm very likely going to be sharing the short little summary blurbs I had written down for each trope so people can very easily bully me into writing them anyways if people still wanted to read them. And even though it would be like months and months late, still post them under this bingo board because I can and I had a cool idea for what I was doing with the colours and layout before life decided to say 'NO!' in a very firm voice. (Unless of course the three lovely ladies that came up with this idea in the first place say no obviously)

Rambling over though now I promise. Chocolate Covered Confessions can be read over and AO3 of course, with the full fic also under the readmore as well.

Chocolate Covered Confessions

Trope: First Date Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 8214 Rating: General (though reader beware there is some almost scandalous hand holding and a couple of scandalously public kisses. You have been warned...) Authors Notes: Oh look, more chrashley fluff. Who da thunk it? Pride month? What pride month? This is just me apparently figuring out how many different ways I can get Chris and Ash to confess their feelings. Because you only read like three of them, I still have another two waiting in the wings. Plus at least three others if you count climbing chrash lol.

Something was...weird. It wasn't something that Ashley could put her finger on just yet, but something was definitely off that was for sure. The problem of course was that she didn't even know where to start looking in the first place, because for the most part her day had been extraordinarily ordinary.

She, Chris, and Josh had planned to go and see a movie Saturday morning a few days back and then hang out the rest of the day. But seeing as they were, you know, best friends that certainly wasn't the issue. Not even close. They always made plans to do stuff like that together. And yeah, okay, so maybe Josh had 'coincidentally' texted them just before the movie started to let them know that something unavoidable had come up and he wasn't going to be able to meet up with them. And when her and Chris had brought up just waiting until a later showing when he was free, he had immediately been quick to affirm that nope, he was going to be busy the whole rest of the day actually. So the two of them could continue with their original plans and they could make it up to him another time.

While certainly suspicious, that wasn't what was wrong though. Josh had been flaking out on their plans more and more, especially when it was plans that took up an entire day. Ashley Brown wasn't stupid. No siree Bob she was not! She knew exactly what Josh was trying to do by leaving her to spend the day with Chris. Alone . And she appreciated it (she really did!), but if Chris was going to make a move then he would have done it ages and ages ago, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it! Ashley Brown wasn't stupid, but she also wasn't exactly what you would call brave either.

Not that Chris had seemed to notice what Josh was pulling though, he had just sighed and rolled his eyes with a grumbled "fucking typical", and then the two of them had entered the theater to watch the movie. And as per their usual shtick when Josh wasn't there with them, Chris paid for the tickets while she paid for the food and drinks. Or, at least, that was how it normally went. Instead, when she had decided to take a run to the bathroom while he held their spot in the long concession line, she had come back to Chris waiting for her with the pop and popcorn already in hand. After brushing off her flustered apologies, he had explained that shortly after she had left, another cashier had popped on till so the line had gone down in half the time either had expected. And it seemed like a dick move to just wait there until she came back so he had just decided to get the food instead.

She still felt a little guilty about it honestly, even after swearing that she would get both the tickets and food next time.

And, to be completely fair to Josh, he hadn't exactly been missing out on a lot by skipping out on the movie. It wasn't a horror flick (he would never even think of skipping out on that after all) so it wasn't one that he would feel the need to make the two of them watch again with him. Which was more than fine honestly, because if she was to describe the movie in a single word, well, that word would definitely have been 'dreadful'. If she was given a few more words, then she would have easily elaborated and stated that it was 'a boring, plot-hole driven mess, with only extremely over-the-top action scenes and explosions every five minutes to carry any semblance of the extremely loosely written plot'. In other words, she had lost interest in the movie barely half an hour in, and considering that Chris had started scrolling through his phone bored, she wasn't alone in this boat either.

Still, Ashley had resolved herself to sit through this over-budgeted explosion fest if only because movie tickets were horribly expensive. Not to mention the fact that Chris had shelled out money for both the movie and the food. But then he had turned to her, asked if she was as bored to tears as he was, and once he got that confirmation, asked if she wanted to just ditch the movie entirely. And she did—she really, really did—but didn't want Chris to waste the money he had spent more. And then yet another explosion...exploded on screen, and she realized that she was wasting precious hours of her life that could be used to do something more fun and less mind-numbingly boring.

Like watching paint dry. That at least had a semi-cohesive plot.

And so the two of them had walked out, continuing to share the extra buttered popcorn between them (the movie may have been awful, but the popcorn certainly wasn't) as they left the movie theater behind and wandered into the nearby mall. That wasn't the strange thing either. The mall and subsequent window shopping had absolutely been part of their day plans after, even if those had been unexpectedly pushed forward a couple of hours.

Admittedly the art show that the mall was running in one of the empty storefronts was unexpected, but  it had been simply a nice surprise and a great way to kill time. So after paying the $2 entrance fee, the two of them had continued to share the popcorn as they looked at some of the paintings and sculptures that had been on display, giggling childishly at most of them. And okay, so one of the curators had been glaring at them( or rather, at their greasy, butter-covered fingers) the whole time, but that had just been a little rude and insulting. Not strange. And that had stopped almost the moment they had run out of popcorn, Ashley nudging him in the stomach with her elbow as she licked her fingers clean, and the two of them laughing under their breaths at the curator who had looked exceptionally much more at ease once Chris had crumpled the empty bag into a ball.

The rest of their day in the mall had just been spent following the rest of their day's plan, wandering from shop to shop and browsing at all the things that caught their eyes, and then taking a break after a few hours to have a late lunch in the food court. The two of them checked out another couple of stores, these ones to try and get some ideas for Josh's birthday in another month, before moving onto the small arcade on the top floor. As part of their deal and agreement since it had just been Josh and Chris (Ashey not joining the duo until five years later), Chris bought the tokens needed while she scouted out the various games for an empty console and claimed it until he could join her in another couple of minutes.

They spent the next hour in there, trying to beat each other or work together depending on the game in question. They almost never played a game twice before moving onto the next one, in hopes to both try as many games as possible before their self imposed hour ended and to see if they could beat their previous high scores or make it onto the leaderboard in only a single try. But as the hour came to a close, they both made their way over to their final game: one of the racing simulators scattered around the arcade. And as had been done for ten years now, played to determine which of them would be paying for the tokens next time they came.

And once the race ended, with Ashley winning by photo finish for the third time in a row (and celebrating her winning streak by maturely sticking out her tongue and doing an awkward little shimmy dance in the seat while Chris jokingly sulked and pouted), they had finally left the mall altogether and got into Chris's truck. There, he had surprised Ashley with the novel she had been eyeing in the bookstore (or at least, eyeing closer than all the rest she had picked up) and that he had somehow been able to buy without her noticing. And that certainly hadn't been weird, because it had been so exceptionally sweet of him, sweet enough that Ashley had so badly wished that she could thank him properly. But as mentioned before, Ashley Brown was a coward pure and simple, so she had just clutched the book to her chest and beamed at Chris in heartfelt thanks instead.

He may have said something in reply, but Ashley had already settled into the passenger seat and opened to the first page of the book, so she was already long gone. A fact that Chris had anticipated, if the light chuckle he had let out before starting the truck meant anything. And no, Ashley reading a book while Chris drove them to their usual game store across town was not the strange thing either. If Chris hadn't wanted her to read on the drive over and talk to him, then he never would have given her the book now of all times. He would have waited until he had dropped her off home, or not even bought the book in the first place. After over a half a decade of friendship, if anyone knew what would happen after giving Ashley Brown a new book, it was Chris Hartley.

The drive over is done quicker then she had expected, and even then Chris still hadn't let her know that they had arrived until she had finished her chapter. Yes he had certainly teased her about it the entire time, joking about how she would never find someone as understanding of her reading habits then him (he didn't know how right he was, that she didn't want to find anyone else), but the fact that he had just continued to let the music play in the truck and distracted himself on his phone was so unbearably sweet that she decided to let it lie.

The fact that Ashley and Chris hung around in the game shop comparing dice and looking at new books while wincing over the prices for nearly two hours wasn't what was off either. Hell, if anything the fact that they only spent a couple of hours there before leaving was weird! Her, Chris, and Josh could easily spend almost half a day in there flipping through comics and rolling dice to test them out, only leaving because a tired employee was forced to ask them to leave for making too much noise and taking up a table when they weren't playing anything, especially when there was a group that had been waiting for a table for close to an hour now.

Which brought Ashley to where she was right now, sitting at a sticky plastic table under the shade of a cheap umbrella while Chris had run off to get them some ice cream before dropping her off at home. Her new book was open in front of her, the pages crisp white even in the umbrella's shade, but her mind wasn't on the book anymore. A random line had a character mentioning that something had been feeling off all day ever since they woke up ('like everything had been moved three centimeters to the left, so while it all looked normal, nothing felt right anymore'), and Ashley had also realized that hey, wait a second, her day was also feeling just a little wonky too! But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Today had just been a normal day hanging out with Chris after all. They went to see (and bailed) a movie, spent hours hanging out in the mall and at the game store, and now they were each going back home. Nothing unusual had happened, so why did it feel like something hugely monumental had been going on all day?

"Oi. Earth to Ash, you okay in there?"

A light flick to the center of Ashley's forehead has her blink in surprise, and she finds herself back into the present once again. Chris is standing next to her, carefully balancing the two cones in his right hand and his left ready to flick again if needed, and a bemused smile on his face.

"Oh, uh, sorry Chris. Got a little too into the book I think." She closes the book, not wanting to get melting ice cream all over its crisp white pages (and she really hasn't absorbed a single word for nearly ten minutes now), but Chris doesn't hand her the cone just yet.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Chris says as he snorts in disbelief. "I know your 'praise be to books' look, and that was not it. That was your 'head full, too many thoughts' look."

"Excuse me? What? I do not have a reading look! Or a thinking look for that matter!"

"Oh you do. You really, really do. Trust me. You may have been staring at that book but there was no way that you were reading, I would bet my own ice cream here on it." Chris brandishes his double chocolate cone at her, then seems to reconsider and switches to show off her own dipped soft serve that he still has yet to actually let her eat. "Actually, you know what? I would eat your dipped monstrosity if I'm wrong."

Ashley sighs, but she can't keep the smile from her face. "It's not that bad this time, oh my god. It's chocolate ice cream dipped in blueberry syrup. This is actually a normal combination for people who go out of their way to order more exciting cones then two scoops of chocolate." She leans forward and places her elbows on the table to support her head in her hands. "But I wanna see you do it anyway, so tell me exactly why you're so convinced that I wasn't reading."

Chris opens his mouth, but immediately closes it a second later, as though he didn't realize exactly what he had signed himself up for here until now. Ashley of course takes it as a sign of victory. "I knew it. So let's see this Chris, I wanna see you eat something that isn't—"

"When you read you get, like, super attentive." Chris's face is pink, and not looking at her but at the book on the table as he bashfully continues. "You become so drawn in to whatever you're reading that you ignore everything going on around you, because all of your attention is now on that book. Pretty sure a bomb could go off right next to you and you wouldn't even notice sometimes. And it's always so easy to tell what's happening in the book when you're reading too, cause your face is always so expressive. Like your eyes get big when something exciting or surprising happens, and when you're really enjoying whatever it is you're reading, you start giggling like a loon."

Ashley is too stunned and, quite frankly, her heart is beating too fast for her to even think of a proper response to that . She manages to squeak out a quiet little "oh, um" but Chris doesn't notice. Not when he's still babbling and not looking at her at all.

"But when you get deep in thought, you're not like that at all. All of your attention goes inward, and everything around you disappears cause all the important stuff is going on inside your head right now. Your mouth falls open just a little, sort of like you're gaping at all the information in front of you. And-and sometimes you'll mouth out what's going on inside your head as you try to fit the pieces of everything together so it's neat and tidy like a puzzle. And even though you have the, like, blankest stare imaginable, it's not empty at all if that makes any sense. Cause your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunches just the tiniest amount so you have a small little wrinkle form like right here—" with his unoccupied hand Chris points at the bridge of his nose right between his eyes "—and it's weirdly, insanely cute? But when you finally figure out the puzzle in your head, your face lights up like a kid on christmas morning and...and..." He lets his words trail off and stops awkwardly there, as though finally realizing exactly what he's been saying this entire time.

His face is almost beet red now, and Ashley is pretty sure hers is too. "Oh, uh, wow. I-I didn't realize you paid any attention to me when I was like that..."

Somehow his face only gets redder, and though he mumbles the words under his breath, Ashley can still make them out. "I'm always paying attention to you."

But not close enough attention it seems, she thinks sadly. If you did then you would have noticed something way more obvious than that. But she doesn't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is (then she already is), and she isn't sure what else she could possibly say that wouldn't be her blurting out that she likes him, so instead she pretends that she hadn't heard a single thing and wordlessly accepts the ice cream that he hands to her, accepting her defeat as she takes a small bite of the blueberry covered chocolate soft serve.

...The blueberry covered chocolate soft serve that he had bought for her. Or, you know, the ice cream he had paid for himself. Just like he had paid for everything today. Kind of like it was almost a, uh, date. Like he had taken her on a date.

Oh .

"Oh boy, let me guess: I was right and your ice cream really is a crime against taste buds?"

Ashley comes crashing back down to reality to see Chris, his face still a little red but the playful smile back on his face as he teased her. And yet, that only makes it worse as she can't help but feel the usual gymnastics routine the butterflies in her stomach perform at that particular smile, only they're a thousand times worse now that's she's realized exactly why today had felt so strange. And she can't help thinking how much everyone else would classify what was just a day hanging out with her best friend as a date. And how much she really, really wished it was one.

"Nope," she unfortunately squeaks out, and clears her throat so she can continue in a more normal tone of voice. "Nope, sorry to disappoint Chris, but the ice cream tastes fine." She takes another bite for proof (and to her credit she's not lying, it tastes more than fine). "Just, uh, realized something funny that's all." And the moment the words leave her mouth she realizes just how badly she's screwed everything up, because there is no way in any world that Chris Hartley is just going to let that comment lie.

"Funny? Oho, well now I'm interested. You mind sharing your glorious epiphany with the rest of the class Miss Brown?"

Taking another small taste of her ice cream, Ashley averts her gaze as she gives what she is kicking herself for is obviously an extremely forced laugh. "Did I say funny? I meant boring, just super boring actually."

"Well now I just want to hear it more."

"No, you don't. Trust me, you really, really don't."

Chris's brows furrow in concern. "Ash? You okay?"

She isn't, of course she isn't. She's now realized exactly what a date with Chris would be like, and it would be exactly like this. With them going to all the same place and doing the same things but she's allowed to hold his hand and kiss him when he does stupid sweet things like buying her the book she's been eyeing and talking about all day. She's never wanted something to be so true so badly in her life. And it's likely this thought in her mind that causes her to blurt out "A date." before she even realizes what she's said.

That only makes the confusion on Chris's face go deeper, which is appropriate considering she's sinking deeper and deeper into her chair in a futile effort to hide or escape as well. "What? Are you saying that you just remember what date it is today? Or that you had something you were supposed to do today instead? I'm not really following you right now Ash..."

This is perfect. It's the perfect excuse, she could laugh and say that she totally forgot what day it was and that she had an essay due pretty soon, or that she was supposed to babysit for a neighbour tonight. Anything really, the sky was quite literally the limit. And instead she just bit her lip and stared at the ice cream melting in her hand before weakly admitting "No, a, uh, date. As in, the romantic kind. I realized that today probably looks like a date to anyone else. Funny, huh?"

She's not sure how Chris would react to that. Maybe a startled laugh, and hand wave as he brushes her off. A scoff as he assures her that this definitely isn't a date, cause they're just friends and that's all they'll ever be. Whatever the reaction she expected, it was certainly not the fumbling for his ice cream as he nearly drops it in his shock, and how absolutely flustered he sounds as he trips over his own tongue. "W-what? I-I-I, uh—I mean, th-this obviously isn't—Who would even—? Wh-what would even give you the idea that we could um, possibly be on a date?"

Ashley shrugs weakly. "Isn't it obvious Chris?" She ignores his even more flustered babbling that no, he absolutely did not see what was so obvious as she continued on, still too nervous to look him in the eyes. "You've kind of paid for everything today."

"I wha—? I mean, no I haven't!"

"You kind of have, Chris. The theater?"

"You know I always pay for the tickets, and it would have just been really rude to make the line even longer!"

"The art show?"

"It was just a couple of toonies! And you saw the face of the worker there, they would have kicked us right out if they'd had to break a twenty. It was just easier."

"Lunch?"

"They-they'd had a special on for a two-person meal at that stall in the food court, and they wouldn't let each of us pay half..." he neglected to point out that Ashley could have easily paid for their lunch, and probably should have, but before she had been able to offer he'd already been swiping his debit card.

"The arcade?"

"Okay, that was my turn to buy the tokens, you know that. That one doesn't even count."

Ashley lifted her eyes from the ice cream to the book that sat menacingly and innocently all at one at the center of the table, it's pristine cover mocking her. "The book?"

"T-that was just a gift! You seemed really into it at the store and friends buy each other gifts all the time—"

There was no describing how soft and nervous her voice got as she asked the question that would put the final nail in the coffin. "The ice cream?"

"I, uh, it was just—um..." Chris let out a breath in a weak chuckle. "Shit, I guess I kind of did, huh?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, and neither does Chris, as the table goes silent. She's bracing herself  for when Chris inevitably shoots her down and confirms that it doesn't matter. That the two of them will never be anything more then friends and that she never should have hoped for anything more and by revealing this she's ruined their friendship for good—

"Hey, uh, Ash?" He sounds so nervous that it immediately takes Ashley out of her anxiety driven thoughts of doom and gloom, but she can't do anything more than just shakily nod to let him continue. "It's, uh, probably like a really, really, really stupid question but—" he takes a nervous breath "—did you want this to be a date?"

Her head immediately shoots up as she stares at him with wide eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat where her heart is currently lodged. She frantically rakes her eyes over Chris's face looking for any hint that he's mocking her, or playing some cruel joke on her and her feelings, but all she sees is just nervousness all over a pale, shaking face with what she thinks ( prays ) is a glimmer of undisguised hope. But it's still too much uncertainty, and she's too scared to risk it all on a mere glimmer that she is likely only imagining because she wants it so badly to be real, so she throws the question back at him instead.

"...would you have been opposed if this was actually a date?"

"Nuh uh, I asked you first."

Ashley realizes that he's just as scared at what the answer might be as she is. She wants to tell him, has wanted to tell him for years and years and years. And maybe this is the chance she's been waiting for her whole life. The two of them sitting at a sticky plastic table under the early evening sun, long forgotten ice cream melting in their hands, and she can finally tell him that she's had such a huge crush on him since she was twelve.

"Yeah." The word is less choked out than it is released. Like it's a breath of fresh air and she feels simultaneously lighter and heavier for it. "I-I think I would have liked that. I would have liked that alot."

Chris snaps his gaze up to meet hers, and the glimmer of hope that she had seen earlier has now nearly taken over his face at the disbelieving smile that's threatening to crack his face in two. "Really? I-I mean, uh, I would have been alright with the idea too. More than alright actually."

She can feel her own smile start to nervously match his, and then the first giggle breaks out. His own ecstatic laughter quickly follows her own until the two of them are both giddily laughing at the table, but too embarrassed and bashful to even look at each other now. The giggling abruptly cuts off when Chris lets out a yelp of surprise when he realizes how much of his ice cream has melted onto his hand and Ashley joins him in trying to finish off their ice cream before it's melted entirely. But there's definitely a change in the atmosphere around them now. The contentness and laid back ease that always formed between them whenever they hung out was still there, but there is a charge that hadn't been there before either. An excited anticipation that only surges higher and higher whenever Ashley shyly glances in Chris's direction to find he's looking at her with the same disbelieving smile beaming on his face.

They never say anything more about it as they both finish off the ice cream, but Ashley knows. With that little agreement, the entire day had changed. This wasn't just them hanging out as friends anymore, this was an actual, factual date now, pure and simple. So when Chris hands her a couple of extra napkins to clean herself off, she may have let her fingers brush against his for just a moment. The resulting blush and dumbstruck smile on his face when he cautiously took his hand back so he could clean up the rest of the mess on the table was oh so worth it. And when he returned from his trip to the garbage can and held out his hand as an offer to help her up from the chair, she accepted it readily.

Once she's back on her feet, the two of them drop their eyes to stare at their still clasped hands, realizing that they could easily hold hands the entire short walk back to Chris's truck if they wanted. And she does want that—horribly in fact—but it seems it's still a little too early for either of them to make that teeny tiny but monumental jump to hand holding so they let go awkwardly and slowly, letting their fingers linger against the others before letting go completely. As though giving themselves a taste of what may yet actually come to pass in the (hopefully) very near future.

The short walk back to the truck is filled with both anticipation and dread alike, but unusually silent. Ashley knows it's because she's now a buzzing ball of nervous energy, terrified that saying anything at all will shatter this dream that's apparently coming true before her eyes, but Chris is different. He looks more like he's trying to work up the courage to say or ask something, and is spending all his energy on that alone. So when he reaches out to open up the passenger side door for her, Ashley can feel her heart pick up speed when he stops with his hand on the door handle and looks at her nervously. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times as he tries to work up the courage to say whatever it is he wants to say, and all she can do is stare at him expectantly as she struggles to hold back an excited smile.

"Hey, Ash, ca—nevermind. It's, it's stupid. Don't worry about it." A second later, he has the door opened for her and the moment she can't see his face, she lets her smile fall crestfallen. But only for a second before a polite one replaces it as thanks when he closes the door for her and continues to his side of the truck. It's fine, she supposes as she buckles herself in, while the two of them have been hanging out all day, it's only been an actual date now for barely ten minutes. And once he drops her off home in just another few short minutes it's going to be over. The fact that she even managed to get this far is franky mind blowing, so expecting anything more from her dreams would just be extremely selfish. She can't have everything she wants all at once, no matter how long she's been waiting for it.

The drive back to her place is also quiet, filled with only the droning of the radio playing in the background. Ashley's returned back to her book, but she knows that Chris knows that she's not absorbing a single word, hasn't turned a single page even. She keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he nervously taps at the steering wheel, and then tightening his grasp when it looks like he's going to say something, only to return to the nervous tapping when he inevitably backs out at the last second and returns to the frantic pep talk he's likely giving himself. The air that fills the vehicle is heavy and thick with anticipation and it's taking almost everything in Ashley to not start shaking the question out of Chris at every red light they stop at.

But, eventually, they pull up in front of her place and Chris stops the truck. There's a moment where the two of them just sit there, not wanting to leave because leaving means the end, and Ashley schools her face into a cheery smile in an effort to hide as much of the disappointment as she can when she turns to face him and bid him farewell, only to have it fall to confusion when he starts fumbling at his own seatbelt.

"Chris? What are you doing?"

He struggles further at it, frustrated that the buckle's apparently decided that now is the perfect time for it to stick once again. "Trying to get this fucking thing off."

"Yeah, I figured that much. But why are you trying to take it off, you're just gonna leave right away again anyway."

He slows his fumbling as cheeks start darkening in embarrassment. "I, uh, I just thought that was something you were supposed to do after a date, walk them to their door to stay goodnight. I mean, at least I think this is a date now? And, and only if you're okay with it! I can stay in here instead if you don't want me to. I was just hoping..."

The once forced cheery smile on her face is certainly not being forced any longer, if anything she's trying not to show how much the idea of Chris walking her to her door thrills her. "N-no!" Well, so much for trying not to show how desperately she wants that. The startled look he gives her at the unexpected outburst had her trying to control her voice into something less desperate, but considering she doesn't think she's ever going tame the frantic butterflies that have been flapping around non-stop in her stomach ever since the ice cream realization, she's probably doing a terrible job of it. "I-I mean if you want to, it's completely up to you after all..."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Just, just give me a second." He continues to struggle with his seatbelt buckle, letting out more and more agitated curses escape the longer the thing continues to stick, and Ashley is getting the feeling that if he was able, Chris would have ripped the entire thing straight out of the seat by now. Broken safety laws and ensuing repair costs be damned. The moment he finally manages to unstick the traitorous buckle it's with a cry of victory and relief so exuberant that Ashley finds herself laughing in disbelief and awe that he had wanted to walk her the short ten or so feet to her front door that badly. Thankfully, for both of them, her seatbelt unclicks easily and much more quickly in comparison, only taking another couple of seconds to grab her bag from the footwell and joining him.

The far too short walk up to her door is over before either of them realize it. One second the two of them had been standing awkwardly and nervously by the truck as she fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand, and the next they're standing just as awkwardly and nervously (if not moreso) in front of the front door. Both of them waiting for the other to say or do something to break the tension, but cleanly aware that doing so would signal the very final end of the day, and the date. In fact, just knowing that Chris doesn't want this to end just as badly as her, is what gives her the courage to look at him with a surprisingly heartfelt and soft smile.

"Today was fun."

Chris lifts his eyes from where they had been staring at the dried leaves on the doorstep to match her smile. "Yeah. It was."

"And thanks. For the movie, and everything else." Ashley raises her hand to give the new and still shiny paperback a small wave. "And, you know, the book too. Of course."

"Yeah, it was no problem. Anytime." There's something with how he says the last bit—not really emphasizing it but making it clear all the same that he means 'anytime'—that causes her face to flush giddily as she pulls her lower lip in between her teeth in a weak effort to fight back against the ecstatic smile that forms anyway. And when she sees his eyes lower just a smidge to follow the motion and the way his shoulders stiffen in reaction, Ashley very quickly also finds she's trying (much more successfully) to hold herself  back from just saying 'to hell with it' and throwing her arms around Chris so she can finally kiss him silly and until they're both breathless. But considering that she's too much of a coward to initiate something as innocent as hand holding apparently, there is absolutely no way that something as...as scandalous as kissing him on her doorstep is ever going to happen. Clearly.

And yet, she gives Chris another few seconds to try and work past that blockade in his throat, but when he still can't muster a single word, she decides to just put the both of them out of their misery. Or further into it. It's probably just the same thing really. "I guess I'll see you next time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turns away and puts her hand on the doorknob, and tucks the book under her arm so she can dig into her bag for keys, but is stopped when Chris's hand abruptly snakes out and wraps itself firmly around her wrist before she can reach into the bag. And it works—boy does it ever —turning back to him and the hand wrapped around her wrist as excitement just starts to bubble up inside of her.

A second later though, his brain has apparently caught up with the movement he clearly hadn't intended to make, because his face goes beet-red and he's dropped her hand so he can shove both into the pockets of his jeans. He averts his eyes so he's back to staring at the loose gravel and dried leaves under their feet.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Chris." Ashley tries to smile softly at him in reassurance, but it's considering she's gripping the doorknob in an almost vice-like grip in anticipation, it's likely far more eager than she would like. "What is it?"

Somehow, his face goes even redder and he blurts out the question so fast that it may as well have been one word. "CanIkissyou?!"

Immediately, Ashley's gaping at him wide-eyed and her mouth open in shock as her heart's beating so fast that she's pretty sure it's ready to burst out of her chest at any moment. "Wha—"

"I-I mean goodnight. Can I kiss you goodnight? That's what people are supposed to do on dates, right? A-a-a-and I think we agreed that this is a date now, or at least I really, really hope we did. Cause I've wanted to go on a date with you for the longest time and-and-and I didn't want Saundra or-or-or any of your neighbours to see cause I know that would just really embarrass you and me but I've been trying to ask you for the past thirty minutes now cause I've wanted to kiss you since forever but I was scared about how you would react cause I really, really, really like you Ash and I just wanna to kiss you so fucking bad right now you have no idea and—"

Ashley would like to believe that she's brave enough to throw her arms around Chris and drag him down into that searing kiss she's been dreaming about forever and ever, but she doesn't. Even with a confession that is everything she's ever wanted to hear and more. That's not to say that she doesn't want to do it—god does she want to do it—but she's so frozen in place from shock that she physically can't. So instead she just continues to gape at him as he (adorably) rambles on and on, and giggles out an elated little "okay".

His nervous rambling stops dead in its tracks, and he finally looks back up at her, nervous relief evident all over his face. "Really? I mean, are you sure? I'd understand if you didn't want to—"

" Chris ."

That immediately shifts the relief to a different kind of nervousness entirely, one of excited disbelief, but even then neither move to actually initiate this promised kiss for several seconds. Instead just staring at each other waiting for the other to be the first to move, Chris with his hands still in his jeans pockets and Ashley glued to the doorknob with her other hand frozen as it hovers over her bag. Finally, Chris is the first to slowly bend down to meet her awkwardly half turned body, and she unsteadily tries to rock herself onto the tips of her toes without losing her balance completely and falling over. And still, they both pause about an inch away from each other's faces, though whether to give the other an out if needed or just to work through the logistics of how to do this exactly without their foreheads or noses smashing into each other or Chris's glasses getting in the way is anyone's guess.

But finally, mainly due to the fact that Ashley can't lean forward anymore without falling completely on her face, Chris closes that final bit of distance and kisses her. It's a nervous brush of the lips really—a quick peck at best —but they jolt back from each other so quickly that the single action may as well have activated some hidden magnetic repel function that neither had been aware of until this moment. Both of them are staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless as the magnitude of what they had both finally managed to accomplish hit them. The kinda-sort confession and the almost hand holding meant absolutely nothing in comparison to this. Those she could have (and would most likely have) brushed off as her reading too much into innocent statements and gestures when she thought over everything that had happened today in the safety of her room later tonight. But this? This was physical proof .

Looking back, Ashley's not sure which of them moved first. One second they had been staring at each other in disbelief, stuck in the same awkward bent and leaning stature from before, and the next it's as if the magnetic attraction between them reverses its flow entirely. Chris is cupping her cheek with one hand as he kisses her in the way she always dreamed he would, his other hand slowly skating across the back of her neck so he can pull her up closer to him. The book that had once been clutched protectively under her arm was completely forgotten about—fallen to the ground with a sharp crunch as it crushed the dried leaves beneath their feet—as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders as she props herself as high as the tips her toes will allow her. She can still taste a hint of the chocolate from earlier on his lips, and the small part of her that isn't being blown away by all of this is wondering if he can taste the blueberry and chocolate on hers as well.

She's not sure how long the two of them stood there on her doorstep, kissing for all the world to see, but she does know that they still separate much, much too soon for her liking. Not that they fully separate of course. She may be back on the soles of her feet, but neither of them have removed themselves from the embrace itself. And with the way that Chris is lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone as he just stares at her with the same stupidly giddy grin she's got, Ashley would be perfectly fine if they could just stay standing like this forever.

"So..." she starts, and stops to take a moment to giggle when Chris bumps his nose into hers. "I think that was a perfectly acceptable first date if you ask me."

Chris doesn't let go of her when he leans back to consider her, the comically raised eyebrows in shock doing nothing to take away from the absolutely thrilled beam of his smile. " First date? Why Miss Brown, are you perhaps asking me out for a second one already?"

"I mean, if it's not too presumptuous of me, I suppose I am. I-if you're not opposed to it of course." She can't help the way her nervousness starts to bleed through with that last sentence, already panicking that she's somehow completely misread everything that's just happened and that maybe that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it did to her after all.

His next words completely derail those fears entirely. "Of course I'm not, I would love nothing more than to go on a second date with you. Followed by a third and fourth and even a fifth if you have the time for it."

"I mean, I'm a pretty busy girl but I think I can open up as many days in my schedule as it takes if I need to."

Before she knows it, the two of them are leaning in for another kiss when the sound of pot being dropped in the nearby kitchen through the open window jarringly brings them back to reality and the two of them let go of each other red faced and embarrassed. Oh no, how much of this had her mother heard? Or worse, saw? She wants to leave the doorstep (which is rapidly becoming her favourite place in the whole entire world) even less now, but the longer she takes the worse the excited interrogation from Saundra will be so she starts digging back into her bag to try and find her keys once again.

"I'll text you later, okay? And, maybe, we can talk some more about that second date...?"

The reply from Chris is flustered but eager. "Yeah, totally. I-I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Cool. And um, the next one's one me. The date that is. It's only fair after all."

"Yeah, right. Only fair. Totally. And, uh, your book..."

She finally finds her keys from where they had sunk to the bottom of her bag, and looks up at him and the paperback book that had fallen during their, uh, intimate embrace. "Oh! Uh, right. Thanks." She could easily leave it at that, but the last few minutes have made her bold so when she reaches out to take the book back from him, Ashley curls her fingers over his and bounces onto the balls of her feet so she can give him one last kiss on his cheek—almost the corner of his mouth really—before finally stepping back with the book and keys in her hand. "I mean it. Thanks . For everything."

"Yeah. No problem. It was my pleasure."

She lets herself have one last glimpse of the stupefied grin on his face just as he turns to walk just a little unsteadily down the path back to his truck. The only sounds being the leaves crushing underfoot and the jangle of metal as she sticks her keys into the door to finally unlock it. A sound that it quickly interrupted by not only the click of the door unlocking, but a muffled shout.

Alarmed, she turns quickly expecting to see Chris having accidentally shut his coat into the door as he is sometimes known to do when the weather gets colder, but instead watches in elated shock as he continues to keep energetically flapping his arms and fist pumping into the air and screaming what she can vaguely make out as 'yesyesyesyesYESYESYES' over and over again.

Suddenly it hits her. Despite the shy confession over ice cream, and then the much more rushed and rambled one only minutes ago, and followed by the kiss(es) that are still sending her heart into rapid fire, Ashley still hadn't believed what all the evidence had been saying. Chris liked her. He really, really liked her. Possibly as much as she liked him even! This wasn't just a one-off event that would now make things awkward between them for the rest of their lives. This was happening. They'd just had a first(!!!!) date and after Chris had kissed her goodbye, she had asked him out for a second one.

And he had accepted .

Ashley fumbled with the door and the moment she was in the house, slammed the door behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thump and slowly slid down the door until she was sitting against it with her eyes wide and breathless. She ignored the surprised clatter coming from the kitchen as Saundra immediately dropped whatever it was she had been doing in and held up the book so she could stare at the once innocuous cover in amazement.

He had bought her this book and the ice cream because he liked her and he had gladly and excitedly accepted to go out on another date with her. And even more if he had been serious about that third date and beyond line.

And not that either would ever know it, Ashley mirrored Chris at that exact moment by placing her head into her hands and screaming as the built up joy and bliss finally exploded out of her.

[warandpussy]

omg PLS talk more abt ur 12dole!

sure! link

fyi I barely remember writing this, all i remember is that it's super weird i suppose the point is it's about being lonely. i love s10 for the way it slows down, gives the doctor a home base, a time to breathe. but i also love how, with that, he has to deal with the demons in his head scrabbling at the door; he can't ignore them any more. like. his wife just died. so this fic was like, i want to explore that loneliness and that grief.

to be clear, it's also about the doctor getting off with a decapitated robot head.

i'll put this under a cut

The Doctor stares into the mirror on the wall.

It isn’t – it’s not something he likes to do. It’s uncomfortable, he thinks, to observe the evidence of a long life carved into a face. To confront the evidence of age and time passing, old regrets scoring delicate lines over the brow, the cheeks, beneath the eyes. He considers his reflection and swallows the lump in his throat.

It’s with a trembling hand that he reaches out to his glass counterpart, feeling that even a touch of his skin will send it shattering to the ground at his feet, that a press of his fingers against something that isn’t even him, not really, could break him apart. You’re lonely, you’re lonely, his brain cackles at him, and it sounds like –

In the end, it’s just cold, smooth. Nothing.

He runs his finger over the image of his lips, lets himself slip into memory, lets himself remember being touched there. Allows himself the indulgence of it. A wicked grin; a puff of curly hair; ‘hello, sweetie.’

so we start here. you ever been so lonely you just touch your own face to imagine someone else doing it? yeah. i guess the doctor feels like someone who never really gets to process any of this a lot of the time, because one series will end with a tragedy, and then the next one will just pick up on the next adventure. but if your wife died, you got trapped in a university with a woman who hates (?) you and a bitchy robot, you'd probably have some issues.

i wanted to start it here, on his own, because that's the thing, really. he's alone. or he feels alone. and it's a bit dramatic and over the top because when you're miserable that's what you do. the world is falling apart. i'll be alone forever.

the next scene is him and Nardole, and it's like, a drastic shift in tone

“How’s the new head working out?”

“Oh.” Nardole reaches up a hand and pats at his ample cheek. “Quite well, actually, sir.” He strokes his neck a little, tracing a light finger underneath his collar where the seam in his skin is. “Much more efficient processing power.” He gives a little self-conscious cough. “I’ve been having new ideas every fifteen minutes or so.”

“Wonderful,” the Doctor tells him, picking up Rachael Simmerton’s essay on – faith and free will, apparently – and pretending to read the introduction. It’s not, of course. Heavens above, he doesn’t need Nardole having ideas. He’ll have to fix that in a later upgrade. “That’s – fab. Great to hear.”

none of the above is coming through. he's masking it, of course he is. the worst thing about being lonely is that you can't say you're lonely, otherwise people will know how lonely you are - and isn't that to most pitiable thing. no - best to.. uh.. snog a robot head, apparently.

i wish that was how it worked in real life

i really like this scene for the banter between him and Nardole. they're so awful together. I love them.

Nardole pushes himself up with his elbows and stomps over to the Doctor’s desk. He jabs a finger in his face. “Rude. That was rude.” The Doctor shrugs. “You’ve been in my room before, and it was fine.”

“There were pants on the floor.”

“I was in the shower!”

“Ugh.” The Doctor shudders again, deliberately meeting Nardole’s gaze as he does. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s my room, I can leave my pants on the floor if I want to.”

“My spaceship,” the Doctor reminds him. “And I don’t make you pay rent.”

Nardole rolls his eyes. “Good thing, too, given you don’t pay me at all,” he says, and trundles irritably into the TARDIS.

So yeah, the Doctor gets Nardole to bring out one of his spare heads (it's a whole thing, there's a cupboard full of heads, they have some kind of shared memory drive, the old ones go a bit insane the longer they're detached from the body).

It’s a little disconcerting, having your cyborg assistant’s decapitated head on your desk, but at this point the Doctor has seen enough of Nardole’s body, given all the upgrades he’s had to do over the past seventy years, that it doesn’t faze him. He’ll end up seeing a lot more, most likely; they’ve still got over nine hundred years still to go. This doesn’t faze him either – certainly not as much as it would have done back when they’d first been stuck here, uncomfortable in their stillness, squabbling with each other just to pass the time.

The first time he’d had his hands in Nardole’s chest, sometime in the late nineties, tinkering with the artificial heart he’d had installed, Nardole had asked him why he even bothered.

“Can’t have my manservant dying on me, can I?” he’d muttered, irritated at the question.

“Oh, is that what I am?” Nardole had bitched.

Covering his face with his welder’s mask, the Doctor let out a snort. “If you shuffle off this mortal coil, Nardole, I’ll have to hire a new assistant. I can’t be bothered.”

“Let me be clear, you're giving me eternal life so that you don't have to hold job interviews?”

“Yes.”

Nardole had looked at him for a long time after that, uncharacteristically silent. When the Doctor was done, he’d grabbed his wrist and squeezed, before standing and making two cups of horrifically sweet tea. The Doctor had drunk the lot.

i was talking about this the other day with you. i guess i tend to think there's a real power in delay, in writing. when the real scene is going on, but then the characters trip into a memory. the Doctor's nervous about what he's going to do (and, in a doylist fashion, the reader doesn't KNOW what he's going to do) so by pausing the 'real' scene and tripping into this memory, we get to hold off on that reveal for a little longer

but we also get to explore the Nardole and Doctor dynamic. which is, here, one where they bitch and squabble with each other, but they still obviously deeply care for one another. #married.

Carefully, he probes behind the left ear for the on-switch, flipping it over with a slight press of his finger. It takes a moment, but the eyes flutter open and the mouth pulls itself up into a tiny smile. The smile drops off his face when he sees who’s holding him up.

“What do you want?” Nardole snipes.

he's such a bitch i'm obsessed with him

The Doctor sighs, and buries his face in his arms. “In the past, it was always – adventure, fun, heat-of-the-moment, explosions, running, kissing,” he mumbles. Nardole grunts at the acknowledgement of it. “Now,” the Doctor goes on, “now I just sit here.”

quarantine vibes.

no, but seriously, quarantine vibes. when i wrote this in february i was working the most gruelling, horrible job i've ever had in my life, and also i was in lockdown AGAIN and i couldn't fucking go anywhere or do anything fun. my whole life just became this awful job, that i did sat at my desk at home. i'd get off work, go lie in bed and cry, and then go back to work. now i just sit here indeed.

“Main Head said he was talking to you lot daily,” the Doctor says. He gives him a look.

Nardole puffs out his cheeks. “For a few minutes, sure. But it’s not like we get on.”

“You are exactly the same person,” the Doctor says, exasperated.

me @ me

(sorry this isn't going to just be all me laughing at my own jokes)

yeah. so they make out. there's like, negotiation on what Nardole (Spare Head One) is going to get out of this deal - he wants to go outside (mood) and he wants sweets and tea (bigger mood). he also doesn't want the Doctor to fall in love with him (uhhhh biggest mood??? i feel like if the Doctor falls in love with you you're doomed to a horrible ending).

“Guh,” Nardole says, and the Doctor pulls him off, lips tingling. Nardole’s face is red, which is interesting from a technical point of view – no blood, how does that work? – but the Doctor finds he doesn’t really care to think about it at the moment. He feels suffused with life; that empty cavity in his chest at least partially filled in, something present that had been missing.

The body is made to touch, after all.

for this i really need to insist on something. this is sci fi, nominally, but i DON'T CARE about the science. i really don't. why is Nardole's face red? how does he have spit? i don't care!!!!! i don't care about worldbuilding. i think, personally, for me, the "science" part of science fiction is just about finding a way to heighten a concept to reflect back something about the real world.

also i feel like it makes it more doctor who the less i give a shit about the science but that's by the by.

i guess this is like. THE scene. the scene of the fic. the point of it.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me with you to visit her,” Nardole says, scathing. They’re wandering through the grounds, as promised, the Doctor clinging onto the ears and holding out the head in front of him.

The Doctor snorts. “You’re not coming in with me.”

“What?”

He gestures at the sports bag he’s got slung over one shoulder. “I’ll chuck you in here.”

They walk past a clump of students who are chattering among themselves. They don’t even balk at him carrying an extremely lifelike head around with him. None of them have. Nardole had said it was because he was ‘super old’ and that young people don’t even notice he exists unless he’s looking frail and delicate next to a traffic light. The Doctor had frowned but hadn’t been able to dispute it.

Still, he makes Nardole hold his expression very still whenever they’re near other people. He’s got a whole story planned out in case he does get asked.

“Professor! Professor Doctor!” some enterprising young thing would say, jogging up. “What’s with the mannequin? It looks just like your assistant!”

“Ah,” the Doctor would say, stroking his chin like he had a goatee – he’d done that once in front of Missy and she’d told him he looked very refined, and offered tips for growing one – “you see, I’m planning a lecture series on death masks in Ancient Greek culture, so I’ve been experimenting with plaster casting.”

“Oh, how fascinating!” the student would say, fluttering their hands in front of their chest. “I’ll have to sign up!”

The Doctor would nod dismissively and stride away as if he had something important to go to. Nardole would almost certainly grumble about the Doctor saying he was dead, but he’d not have a leg to stand on – ha – because he was a robot and therefore had never even been alive. (Well – maybe he had… the Doctor didn’t really remember Nardole’s backstory – River had explained it once while they’d lain together in bed, but he’d zoned out, staring instead at the fine whorls of her ear).

Anyway, no one has asked yet, but he’s prepared if they do.

again - delay, so important here. the Doctor and Nardole (Spare Head One) are walking round and about the grounds on one of Nardole's requested walks. the Doctor is Not Doing Great, but he's trying to fake it. he gets triggered into a memory where Nardole calls him "super old", and then, almost as a defence to that, imagines a world where the students (who are ignoring him) all come fluttering up to him and admiring him in that way that he likes.

that's not happening.

It’s one of those cold spring mornings where the sun casts its light over the world in a glittering array, bouncing off dewdrops, shattering through windows. The air is sharp and bright, bracing the breath, probing his lungs with its chilled fingers. Everything teetering on the verge of too much. Too bright, too cold, cutting like a knife.

I'm really proud of this paragraph. I was trying to imagine how you would describe like, beautiful weather, on a day when you felt like shit. it's "glittering" "shattering" "sharp". it "probes him with chilled fingers" - it's invasive, harsh, awful. and it triggers another memory.

The last time he’d been out, alone, on a morning like this, the Doctor remembered, he’d embraced this muchness, let it fill him up, let it consume him. He’d thought it was the only way to feel touched again. Not by a person, but by the world. Then he’d berated himself; so pathetic, so maudlin. People don’t owe you their touch. It’s enough to have felt it at all. Enough to know.

Greedy, he’d thought. Insatiable. Selfish.

He falters by the sycamore tree, dropping Nardole lower. There’d been a cat here.

There had been a cat that had rubbed up by his legs, purring. He’d been so bright, so lonely. He had it picked up, holding it upside down so he could rub gently at the soft hot fur of its belly. It had let him, for a moment, lax in his arms, blinking, squinting up at the cold sun. Then, it had wriggled and squirmed, saying let me down, let me down, and he had thought, oh, not even you?

Not even you, he had thought as he set it down again, not even you want to touch me, and it had scurried off, heading to the cafeteria where the students likely would give it scraps of bacon sandwiches and drop pieces of cheese into its pleading mouth.

“Sir?” Nardole says quietly.

"not even you want to touch me"

like, that's the whole point - what he's been circling around this whole time. he came up with this crazy coping mechanism (snog a robot head, let's not forget his solution was to snog a robot head), but it doesn't fix the root cause which is that his wife is dead and his friend/enemy is locked up and he's lonely

anyway. they go to visit Missy (Nardole zipped up in a bag the whole time).

“What’s with the bag?” she asks. “Not seen that one before. You joined a basketball team?”

“Tried that once,” he tells her. “Got kicked out.”

“You thought it was netball, didn’t you?”

He huffs a breath through his nose, smiling again. “I thought it was netball,” he admits.

Missy purses her lips, eyeing the ceiling. “Makes sense,” she says. “It’s a net, and a ball. Honestly. I would understand it if they were chucking balls into baskets.”

“Football has a net too,” the Doctor says.

“And tennis.”

“I might just start calling every human sport ‘netball’ and see how angry they all get.”

Missy frowns. “I thought I was here to learn how to be nice to the wee humans.” She raises her eyebrows, tilts back in her chair. “You’re a bad example, you are.”

This is what they do now, this talking without really talking. Lots of words that say nothing at all.

he wants to connect with her so badly, but nothing they say has any meaning. they're just talking, blandly, about what's in front of them. they're there, together, but there's no connection. you can be lonely even when you're with other people

then Missy plays the piano for him (and there's NO duet, which as I'm sure you know, means that there is NO INTIMACY)

sex joke:

When the Doctor gets back to his office, Nardole is reclined in his favourite armchair, reading a saucy magazine. The Doctor peers over his shoulder.

‘HIS SECRET SEX SPOTS’, the article screams, ‘HOW TO PLEASE YOUR MAN IN THREE EASY STEPS’.

“Why are you reading that?” he asks before he can stop himself. Nardole looks up and fixes him with a look. “Actually don’t tell me.”

“I’ve got a boyfriend.”

The Doctor blinks. “What about Sharon?”

Nardole sighs loudly. “Haven’t you heard of polyamory?”

“Your spare head hasn’t told me about a boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Nardole says, narrowing his eyes. “Is that why you wanted him? To gossip about my comings and goings?”

“I definitely don’t want to know about your comings,” says the Doctor.

sorry i promised not to just laugh at my own jokes but honestly why else would i be here

they do this for a while. then Bill catches them.

“What are you doing?!” someone squawks.

Instinctively, the Doctor surges up and flings Nardole’s head clear across the room.

It’s Bill, standing in the doorframe, backlit by the light from the corridor. She’s looking at him, her face a picture of pure shock. Horrified. “Did you behead Nardole?”

oof. poor Bill, she goes through so much.

she drags Nardole to the office, and

He swings his feet back to the floor, turns to the two of them. Three of them. “You know,” he starts, “that I have been alone since my wife – left me.”

“Died,” Spare Head Nardole supplies.

Bill’s mouth drops open. “You’re married?”

Main Head Nardole elbows her. “He was.” He spins the photo of River on the Doctor’s desk around, making as if to grab it, and the Doctor is suddenly furiously, furiously angry. He slaps Nardole’s hand away.

“Do you mind!” he snaps, and clutches River’s picture close to his chest. His breaths are coming harsh and ragged, his throat tightening again. “I have been alone,” he says at last, “for seventy years. Alone in this office, in this building, in this city.” He puts the picture frame back on the desk, focusses on straightening it out, puts it perfectly in its place. “So yes,” he says, and breathing is coming easier now, “we came to an agreement. Me and him.” He gestures to Spare Head One.

“Him and me,” Spare Head One says.

“I see,” Bill says after a moment. The Doctor has hopes that that will be the end of it, that these two might piss off now, but then Bill ruins it by continuing to speak. “So you’re lonely.”

he can't even say it, that's the worst thing. he can't even say "she died" because it hurts too much. easier to say she just left. easier. better. because then maybe she'd come back.

Nardole doesn't let that happen though. he's someone that just like... says things, as they are. he just says it. she's dead. Bill's the same. you're lonely.

she's dead, you're lonely.

honestly wtf would the Doctor do without these two.

Bill goes like... you literally have a girlfriend locked up downstairs just talk to her for heaven's sake

Bill snatches up Spare Head One, who lets out a small squeak, and turns to the door. “How about we just go and get everything sorted out? Communication’s what it’s all about, you know!”

yeah Bill! comminication IS what it's all about

the problem with her plan - which is, as far as I can tell, "get the two weird Time Lords to speak to each other, maybe" is that she forgot to account for Missy being as weird as shit as well

Missy cackles. “Of course he doesn’t.” She whips the mango off the shelf and plunges her hand into the base of it. “That’s because he’s here!” And with a dramatic spin, she whips out another Spare Head from inside the mango.

“What was he doing under there?” Bill asks, baffled.

Missy rubs her nose. “Well,” she says, pointing at Spare Head One, “he offered.”

“So you fixed him,” Bill says, “and then you just shoved him under a thing on a shelf and – left him there?”

“No,” says Missy. “I bring him out from time to time.”

Bill frowns. “What for?”

Missy’s painted-red lips spread into a wicked smile. “Kissing.”

Bill blinks at her for a second, and then rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ,” she says. “You two deserve each other.”

there's like... symmetry to it, right? synergy. they were lonely, there were some spare heads floating around, why not have a snog

OBVIOUSLY their problem is that they don't TALK to each other, they don't acknowledge their pain and they just like... cope, in the worst possible ways. but also i think it's funny so that's why i did this

the mango is obviously a reference to my other missydole fic, where Nardole gets his head stuck in a mango

obviously

THEN we get to the REAL weird bit

“Doctor,” she says, voice low, and hands him the head. “Kiss him for me?” The Doctor chokes on his own spit. “I want to watch.”

The Doctor turns his eyes to Nardole, who twitches his forehead in a way that might mean might as well, or might mean get away from me. Slowly, he leans in. Nardole’s eyes get big and round, but he doesn’t say anything, and as their mouths touch he lets out a soft sigh. The Doctor pulls away again and turns his head back to Missy. He raises an eyebrow. “Happy?”

“Very much,” she says, and plucks Nardole out of his hands.

“No, sir, don’t let her!”

“Oh,” Missy says, nostrils flaring, “I fix your head but I’m not allowed a little thank you kiss?”

Nardole narrows his eyes. “Only if you fix me, too.” He sniffs, and darts his eyes over to Spare Head Two, who sits still on the piano watching them all silently. “Like you did him.”

“Done.”

“Oh fine then,” grumbles Nardole, and she presses a dry, almost chaste kiss against his lips. When she pulls back, he has the impression of her lipstick all over his mouth.

“Your turn again,” she says throatily, and passes Nardole back to him. The Doctor leans in again and licks the lipstick off his mouth, smearing the red between the two of them. Missy leans in and whispers in his ear, breath hot, while he does, “It’s almost like you’re kissing me, by proxy, isn’t it?” He grunts, and kisses Nardole harder.

They part with a slick sound, and the Doctor eyes Nardole’s mouth with satisfaction, the faint pink stains all over his lips. He runs a finger over them. Missy leans over, and as the Doctor turns his head she kisses him on the corner of his mouth, pulling back with an irritated scowl.

"You were aiming for my cheek, weren't you?" he accuses.

“Give him to me,” Missy says, and he complies. She stands, Nardole clutched close to her chest, and wanders over to the piano stool which opens to reveal a full tool set. She grabs a screwdriver, and starts fiddling around in Nardole’s neck.

“Oh, we’re done, are we?” the Doctor says, trying not to sound petulant, and not really succeeding.

She gives him a disdainful glance. “Wanted more, did you?”

look i just want things to be awful and horrible for them all. like these are literally such rancid vibes. i think it's funny.

(oh, another note - in my FIRST publishing of this fic, did the Doctor and Missy kiss? no. did you come sobbing into my DMs about it? yes. did I write an entirely new bit just for you? yes)

i think. there's probably a version of this where they talk more. they open up to each other more. but i liked this more quiet, subdued version, where Missy fixes the other head, and it's more about what's implied than what's outright stated. i mean, yes, i love a good love confession, but i think there's almost something more intimate about this quiet understanding.

they've kissed, she's fixing something.

he knows things are going to be okay.

and, last words to the Doctor and Bill:

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” she says. “I’m sorry. You can – obviously, you can do what you want.” She swallows. “I didn’t know about your wife.”

Oh. The Doctor puts the essay back on the desk, and opens his arms. Bill burrows into them, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You didn’t know.”

“How long?”

“We’re time travellers, it’s difficult,” he deflects. She doesn’t say anything, but pulls back and gives him a look. “About seventy years.”

Bill smiles sadly. “That’s a long time,” she says, “to be alone.”

The Doctor looks down at her hand, and holds it in his own. He smiles at her. “I’m not alone,” he says. “Not any more.”

YEAH

i guess that's sort of explicating what was implied in the previous scene. he's not alone. he's got friends. he's got a plethora of spare heads. and he's also got Missy.

i think OBVIOUSLY i wanted this story to be funny and silly and wild and i wanted the Doctor to have a really embarrassing time snogging a robot head, but i also was really trying to say something about what it feels like to be lonely, and i am like, genuinely proud of it. i think it's probably one of the best things I've written.

i wrote it at a really horrible time in my life, like i said, and i don't really remember writing it for the most part. reading it back was actually like.. good. which is honestly so nice.

like, i wrote this for like two people (hi), and myself, and it's very much my brand of humour, which is that it's funny but it's also sad because i think funny hits harder when it's balanced on the knife edge of tragedy.

SO. YEAH.

~~fin~~

[cassandra-tangled]

Cassandra Appreciation Week Day 1: Friendship

Hi guys! Here’s a little oneshot for day 1! I’m a little late (it’s 1 am on the 16th in my time zone), but better late than never!

Here’s the AO3 link 

The word count is 3,653

And a brief summary is: the gang celebrates Cass’ twenty-eighth birthday. If you read my fic it’s not related but I had fun writing this and might add a birthday chapter at some point. 

They do drink and I think there’s like one curse, just an fyi. 

Well, here it is! I hope y’all enjoy.

Cassandra awoke from her sleep to a persistent tap, tap, tap on her shoulder.

“Cass? Cass, wake up. Come on, wake up!” 

Groaning, Cassandra rolled over, shifting from her usual sleeping position on her stomach to lie on her back. She forced her eyes open and glanced at the clock on her wall--it read seven o’ clock in the morning. Admittedly, she’d usually be up by now or within the next few hours, but her thoughts had kept her up last night, and she hadn’t found slumber until three o’ clock in the morning, when she usually let herself rest at ten or eleven o’ clock. Her eyelids were heavy, her eyes swollen, and her hair a ruffled mess of black bed-head.

“What do you want, Raps? I’m tired.”

“You’re not allowed to be tired!” Rapunzel shook her head, pulling the covers off of Cassandra and throwing them across the room. 

“Hey,” Cassandra growled, instinctively rolling onto her side and drawing her knees in close to her chest. “Come on, Raps, why’d you do that?” 

“Today is a very special day, Cassandra.”

Cassandra paused. It was? She couldn’t quite bring to fruition why today would be different than any other, unless it was another Coronan holiday she’d forgotten about whilst on the road. She’d been on the road for a while, and just recently returned home to relax and rest up a bit. Living on the road, especially on your own, time tended to be but a blur. The days congealed into weeks, the weeks into months, the months into years--honestly, Cassandra would have had no idea how long she’d actually been gone if Rapunzel hadn’t counted the days and announced it upon her return. She was back on somewhat of a visit, and hadn’t decided if she was going to stay and work in Corona or leave once more, but she knew one thing for certain--she had no clue why today was ‘special’. 

“Uhhh...special day?”

“Cassandra.” Rapunzel huffed, shaking her head. Her emerald eyes glimmered with a hint of amusement. “You can’t be serious. Stop joking.” 

“No, Raps, I’m serious. I’m sorry, but whatever Coronan holiday today is, I have no clue. I have no concept of time anymore, honestly.”

Rapunzel clicked her tongue. “I’m glad you’re back then, so that I can remind you.”

“What is it?”

“Cass, it’s October 30th. It’s your twenty-eighth birthday!” 

“Oh.” Cassandra’s cheeks flushed red. “I really forgot my own birthday? Honestly, time on the road was a blur. I wasn’t even really sure if I was twenty-six or twenty-seven...”

“Well, yesterday you were twenty-seven. Today you’re twenty-eight.” 

Cassandra sat up and groaned. “Oh my God, I’m old.” 

Rapunzel shot a judgmental glance in Cass’ direction, and playfully swatted at her shoulder. “Oh, hush.” She paused, a laugh escaping her lips. “Now you know how Eugene feels.” 

“Hey, don’t compare me to Fitzherbert. I’m not thirty yet.” 

“Whatever you say. Are you ready for your special day?”

“Uh, no, honestly. I didn’t know it was my birthday. I’m not...emotionally prepared for whatever craziness you have planned today.” 

Rapunzel let out a faux gasp. “Cass! I have no such craziness planned.”

Cassandra cocked her eyebrow. “Sure you don’t. Besides, who knows if today is even my actual birthday? It’s probably just a random date I gave my dad when he took me in. I was only four, I probably had no concept of my birthday. Anyway, I don’t need, er, a celebration.” 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Yes you do! Besides, today is the day you’ve been celebrating your birthday since Cap took you in. If it doesn’t count as your real birthday, I don’t know what does.”

“Uh, hopefully nothing does. I hate birthdays.”

“Hate birthdays? How could you hate birthdays? I mean, there’s presents, cake, streamers, singing, parties, friends...it’s gonna be a perfect day.”

“Uh, I hate most of those things. Streamers are annoying, parties are annoying, singing is annoying, and presents make me feel like I owe the gifter something in return. Friends and cake are good, I suppose…”

“Well lucky for you, I know you, and I didn’t plan a party, exactly. It’ll just be dinner between me, you, Eugene, Varian, and Lance. Lance is even leaving the girls home so it can be an adult-only gathering. No singing, I promise.” Rapunzel paused. “Except maybe happy birthday? Oh, and there will be rum. And wine. And ale.” 

“Rum and wine and ale?” Cassandra sighed. “Oh, okay, you got me. As long as it’s really just the five of us.” 

“Okay, perfect! Dinner is at seven o’ clock tonight.” 

“Right. So you woke me up twelve hours before...why?”

“Erm…” Rapunzel’s face flushed red. “Because I wanted to see you before I have to work. I missed you, okay? I wanted to give you this, too.” Rapunzel reached into the trusty satchel that Cassandra had gifted her long ago, and pulled out a small black drawstring pouch. “I mean, Eugene and I got you a present for dinner tonight, but here. This is from me.” 

Rapunzel gently passed the black pouch to Cassandra, and Cassandra took the velvety, dark pouch in her hand. Tenderly, Cassandra opened the pouch and reached her fingers inside. Her digits met with a small, cool item, which she wrapped her hand about and pulled out. When she opened her hand, her eyes landed upon a small, black ring with a large purple stone mounted in the center. Circling around the stone were several smaller clear stones, also mounted into the dark black metal of the ring. 

“Wow, Raps. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Cassandra slid the ring onto her left ring finger. “It fits perfectly, and now creepy men won’t hit on me when I’m back on the road. I love it.”

“Oh, no problem! I made it myself.”

“You what?”

“I know, right?” Rapunzel laughed. “I made it pretty soon after you left. I wanted to have something to give you when you came back, but since you came back so close to your birthday, I decided to wait ‘til today. It actually took, like, five tries. Xavier helped me mold the ring itself. I got the Cassandrium from, well, Varian, and the smaller stones are tiny little diamonds.”

“Diamonds?” Cassandra’s eyes widened. “Raps, this is far too expensive, I can’t--”

“Cass. I’m a princess. I don’t mean to sound braggy, but suffice to say, I want for naught. It’s yours.”

“Wow.” Cassandra drew her finger up closer to her face, examining the ring more closely. “Thank you, Raps. I love it.” 

“Of course.” A warm smile spread over Rapunzel’s face. “Well...sadly, I have some duties I have to attend to before dinner tonight, so I’ll let you get back to your slumber.”

“Mmm. Slumber sounds nice.” 

“I bet it does, sleepyhead.” Rapunzel stood up and let out a chuckle. “It’ll be in the main dining hall, after my parents have finished having their dinner, okay?”

“Sounds good. Thanks for not inviting the whole kingdom, Raps.”

“Of course. I’ll see you at seven.”

“See you at seven.”

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

Before Cassandra knew it, it was six o’ clock at night. She’d slept til a bit past twelve o’ clock noon--extremely late for her, but reasonable, given her lack of sleep the night prior. After she woke up, she spent most of the day alone in her room killing time--she sharpened her weapons, read about half of a novel, and took a brief walk about the castle to kill some time. 

At six forty-five, she began to make her way through the wide, dim, labyrinth-like halls of the castle. To the untrained eye, the castle would be immensely confusing--but Cassandra had grown up here. She knew all of the halls like the back of her hand, the twists and turns ingrained into her mind from youth. Her legs carried her effortlessly to the doors of the grand hall. 

Cassandra was unsure if the King and Queen had finished their meal, and didn’t want to disturb them if they hadn’t. As such, she leaned her back up against the wall next to the door, and began to absentmindedly fiddle with her hands. Her mind was riddled with both anxiety and excitement as she thought of the night to come. Birthdays weren’t her favorite, and parties weren’t exactly her strong suit, but at least this evening would hopefully be more relaxing and drinking with friends. 

Suddenly, the door beside her swung open, and Cassandra fixed her posture. She wasn’t sure if it was the monarchs or Rapunzel, but better safe than sorry. 

“Oh, hello, Cassandra,” called a sweet, melodic voice. “A certain princess informed me that it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, dear.” 

Cassandra turned, her eyes meeting with Queen Arianna’s. She quickly averted her eyes, and engaged in a quick, respectful curtsey. “Thank you, Your Highness,” she smiled, “it means a lot to me.” 

“Of course.” Arianna paused both her speech, and in the doorframe momentarily. “You know, I remember when you were about yea big.” She gestured down towards her side, and a gentle smile spread across her face. “You’re surely all grown-up now. It makes me feel old. How old are you?”

“I’m turning twenty-eight today, Your Highness.” 

“And to think you came to us when you were only four.” She paused for another moment and glanced off, as if thinking, before turning back to address Cass once more. “Well, I’m off, but Rapunzel is waiting for you in there. Frederic has already adjourned, so feel free to make your way in whenever. Enjoy the rest of your night, Cassandra.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. You as well.” 

Cassandra took a deep breath, analyzing the interaction in her head. She recalled the Queen’s bittersweet fondness towards her as a child, and a pang hit her stomach. She’d always looked forward to running a message to the throne room for her father as a child because she might be there, or running into her in the hallway. There was some sort of strange, unspoken bond and appreciation between them, at least on Cass’ end--that of a mother who’d spent much of her adult life yearning for a daughter, and a daughter who spent most of her childhood yearning for a mother. 

Cassandra shook her head, cleared the thoughts from her mind, and pushed her way in through the tall, dark doors of the throne room. The room was well lit by candlelight in the fading twilight. Rapunzel and Eugene stood by the table, and Lance and Varian were already seated. The table was laid with a fine dinner of roasted chicken, steak, potatoes, and peas. Sat at the center of the table was a modest but beautifully decorated cake, a bottle of rum, a bottle of wine, and a bottle of ale, as well as glasses suited for each. Cass felt a blush spread over her face, flustered that such a celebration was for her. 

“Well, if it isn’t the birthday girl!” Rapunzel moved towards her, and her slender arms wrapped Cassandra in a brief hug. She gestured to the seat at the head of the table, where the King usually sat. “Take a seat.”

Cassandra’s cheeks burned red. “I am not sitting there,” she laughed, “that’d just feel wrong.” 

“Well, then,” Eugene jested, “I’d be glad to take your place. Happy birthday, Cass.” He moved over towards Cassandra, and also wrapped her in a brief hug, before raising his hand in a fist motion. 

“Fitzherbert, don’t even think about giving me birthday punches. I will cut your hands off.” 

“Geez, geez,” Eugene laughed, pulling his fist back. “My hands didn’t survive years as a thief just to be chopped off by the dragon lady.”

“Watch yourself, then.” Cassandra grinned slyly and sat down, with Eugene and Rapunzel following suit. She turned her attention to the other two men at the dinner. “Good to see you two,” she smiled. 

“Happy birthday, Cassie,” Varian smiled. “You’re old.”

“Shut up, kid, don’t remind me.”

“Not as old as me,” Lance interjected. “But soon! Happy birthday.” 

“Thanks for the cheer, guys.” 

“You can always count on us,” Lance winked. 

“Okay, I need a shot,” Cassandra laughed, “someone hit me.”

“Tsk, before dinner, Cass?”

“Oh, yes, Raps. It’s my birthday, remember?”

Lance chuckled and obliged, reaching for a shot glass and the bottle of rum. He poured Cassandra a shot glass and slid it across the table to Cassandra. “Anyone else?”

Eugene raised his hand, followed by Varian, and then a shy Rapunzel. 

“Wow, Raps,” Eugene poked, “you normally stick to your wine.”

“Well…” A slight smile spread over her face. “It’s a special occasion!” 

Lance poured out four more shot glasses--three for the others, and one for himself. He distributed them, before raising his up in the air. “Cheers!”

A jolly ‘cheers!’ commenced, followed by glasses to mouths and scrunched-up faces, particularly on the parts of Varian and Rapunzel.

“Lightweights,” Eugene teased under his breath. 

“Okay, everybody,” Rapunzel interjected, “let’s eat!” She shot a glance at Lance and Eugene. “Birthday girl first.”��

Cassandra served herself a bit of each dish, and the others followed. Cassandra was blown away--you tend to appreciate royalty-level meals after living on the road. The chicken was tender, the steak cooked to perfection, the potatoes whipped and soft, and the peas sweet in her mouth. Before long, plates were filled, then soon cleared--only for some to be filled again, and cleared once more. 

When Cassandra was done, she pushed her plate back and wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Well, that was fucking amazing. Thanks for putting this together, Raps.” 

“Of course! Are we ready for cake?”

“Mmm, nope. I need some more rum. Lance?” Cassandra tipped her empty shot glass in his direction. 

“Oh, fine,” he laughed, topping her off. “After this, you guys are on your own.”

“Hey, not my fault the rum’s on your side of the table.” She raised the shot to her mouth, and consumed it in one smooth gulp.

Lance grinned sarcastically and pushed the bottle to the middle of the table. “Problem solved!” 

Cassandra shook her head, amused. She noticed Varian reaching for the bottle, and let out a chuckle. “So, you drink now, Varian?”

“Oh.” He poured himself another shot, and raised it to his lips. “Uhhh...sometimes?”

“God, you’re still a child in my head. Stop growing, kid.”

“I can’t. Or I mean, I probably could, given my skill set, but I don’t want to.”

“Oh, trust me, you do. It’s not worth going to those lengths, though.”

“Yeah, no,” Cassandra chuckled, reached for the bottle, and poured another out.

“Slow down, Cass,” warned Eugene. “We’re not walking you back to your room, girly.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Number one, don’t call me that. Number two, I can handle my alcohol, Fitzherbert.”

“Oh, sure you can.”

Cass raised the glass to her mouth and tipped it back. “Try me.”

“Okay, now,” Rapunzel laughed. “Your bickering is endearing, but I think it’s time for cake.”

“Please don’t sing to me,” Cassandra groaned. 

Rapunzel pulled a candle from, it seemed to Cassandra, thin air, and stuck it in the cake. “Oh, we’re singing.” 

Cass examined the cake in closer detail--the base icing was white, highlighted with blue flowers and green leaves around the edge. The middle read simply, “Happy Birthday, Cassandra!”. At this point, the ‘irt’ in ‘Birthday’ had a candle stuck straight through it. 

Rapunzel grabbed a random candle mounted on the wall, and lit the candle that was sat atop the cake. “Okay, everybody ready?”

“No,” Cassandra sighed. “Get on with it.”

“Okay, everybody,” Rapunzel chirped, “let’s go!”

Cassandra felt a deep red blush spread across her cheeks as her friends sang the all-too-familiar song.

“Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Cassandra, 

Happy birthday to you!” 

“Make a wish, Cass!” 

So, she did. Cassandra closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and made a quiet wish in her head--no matter where life was to take her, let her remain always as happy as she was with these people, these friends, in this moment. 

Cassandra blew out her candle.

“Woohoo!” Rapunzel leaned over and poked Cassandra on the nose. “Whatcha wish for?”

“I can’t tell you! It won’t come true.”

“Oh, fine.” Rapunzel reached for the knife, cut out a neat slice of cake, and placed it on a plate, before handing the plate to Cassandra. “It’s Atilla’s,” she winked. 

Cassandra took a bite, and the sweet taste of vanilla topped with buttercream hit her mouth. “Mmm, I love Atilla’s cake.”

“Who doesn’t?” Eugene took a piece of his newly served cake, and shoved it into his mouth. “Mmm. No offense, Cassandra, I know it’s your birthday--but I’m so taking these leftovers.” 

Cassandra shrugged. “Fine by me.” 

“Eugene, can we give her our gift?” 

“If you want, Sunshine.”

“Okay, okay, I do. Hold on a minute, I’ll be right back.” Rapunzel jumped up from the table and ran to the corner of the room, retrieving a medium-sized wrapped box with a bow from the corner. She quickly made her way back to the table and set it in front of Cass. “Okay, go ahead!”

“Okay…” 

Cassandra gingerly removed the wrapping paper and opened the box. Inside were a multitude of small items--a sharp, sheathed dagger, a leather notebook, a quill, a deep red sweater, black tights, and a new pair of boots, Cassandra’s old spirit bracelet, and two neatly folded, painted paper cards. Cassandra removed the cards and examined them--on the cover of one was a painting of Cassandra, Rapunzel and Eugene, and on the other, a painting of all five present in the room. She unfolded the one with just the three of them on the front, and read the inside.

“Cassandra,

Happy birthday! I hope you’ve enjoyed your birthday, and like these gifts. Whether you stay or go, these are pieces of us you can keep with you. We love you!

Raps and Eugene.”

With a smile on her face, she opened the other card.

“This one’s just so that you have a picture of all of us together. I hope you like it!

Raps.”

Cassandra leaned over and embraced Rapunzel. “Thank you, Raps. You too, Eugene. I love it.”

“I’m glad you do,” Eugene shrugged, “but Rapunzel deserves all the credit.”

“Oh, I know,” Cassandra laughed. “I’m just being polite. Seriously, I love it.”

“Okay, me next!” Varian pulled out a small pouch from his pocket. “Here you go, Cassie.”

Cassandra opened the pouch, and peeked inside to see an array of colorful crystals and gems. There was, of course, a few pieces of Cassandrium, some small green gems, a large chunk of deep blue crystal, and a large clear, polished gem. 

“I’ve found these in my work around Corona. Well, except the Cassandrium, of course. I know it’s not much, but…”

“Hey, I love it. They’re beautiful. When I go back out on the road, I’ll have even more of Corona to take with me.”

“Uhhh, I got you a bag of candy,” Lance interrupted. He pulled out a familiar bag, one from Monty’s Sweet Shoppe, and slid it across the table to Cassandra. “Thank me later.”

“I’ll thank you now, or I’ll forget.” Cass let out a chuckle. “Thanks, Lance.” 

“I’m sorry to say it, you guys, but this princess is tired out. Anyone else?”

“Uh, ditto,” responded Eugene.

“You guys are lame.” Varian reached for another shot. “I don’t sleep.”

“Well, you probably should,” Rapunzel laughed. 

“Mmm,” Cassandra shrugged, “I’m a little drained. One more shot for me, and I’m out.”

“Oh, fine. I’ll leave too.” Lance reached for the rum, and emptied a little into his shot glass. “Another round for everyone.” He slid the bottle to Cass, who slid it to Rapunzel, who, in turn, slid it to Eugene. Once everyone’s glass was filled, Cassandra raised the rim to her mouth. 

“Cheers.”

“Cheers!”

Soon, each glass was emptied, and the table was surrounded by a tipsy, droopy eyed crew. 

“I’m going to bed,” Eugene declared, standing up from the table. He moved in Cassandra’s direction and gave her a teasing pat on the head. “Happy birthday, Cass. Goodnight, everyone.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

“Night, Fitzherbert.”

“I’ll be up soon, dear, I’m going to walk Cass back to her room.”

Lance stood up from the table as well, followed quickly by Varian. 

“I guess this is our cue, Cassie.” Varian moved to the other side of the table, and gave Cass a quick hug, before making his way to the doors. “Happy birthday, Cass. Goodnight.”

“Night, kid.”

“I’m out too, Cass,” Lance sighed, eyeing the bottle of rum, before ultimately drifting towards the tall doors. “The girls have probably destroyed the house by now. Either that, or they’ve cleaned the entire thing. It’s a guessing game with those two.”

“Well, good luck,” Cassandra laughed. “Night, Lance.”

“Night, Cass.” 

Before she knew it, Cassandra was alone with Rapunzel. She slumped forward, leaned on her hand, and picked a frosting flower from the side of the cake.

“Thank you, Raps,” she smiled, placing the flower in her mouth. “Tonight was fun.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Rapunzel winked. “Ready for bed?”

“Mmm, yeah, or to get back to my room, at least.”

“Let’s get going, then. I’m worn out.” 

Cassandra placed the bag of gems and the bag of candy in the box with the rest of her presents, before heaving it up to carry it. Rapunzel grabbed a candle to light the way, and the two made their way back to Cassandra’s room in a pleasant silence. 

“Well, Cass, this is your stop!” Rapunzel leaned over and swung the door open. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you for everything today, Raps.”

“Hey, there’s no need to thank me. It’s nice to have you home.”

“It’s nice to be home. Goodnight, Rapunzel.”

“Goodnight, Cassandra.”

[orionsangel86]

So, after a long conversation with super-powerful-queen-slaynna, whom you can thank for me sending this message, so like... if you like it good, if you don't blame them, I do want to apologize for assuming you were saying people can't talk about Destiel, its shippers and how much they dislike it in their group chats. That's what the post came off to me, as if you were policing what people could and couldn't say in these GC about Destiel. Slaynna made me realiza that you meant your post as a 1/2

warning to Destiel shippers who might wander into them. I understand this, because whenever a Destiel shipper follows me, I make it a point to warn them my blog might not be a positive space for them precisely to avoid this sort of unplesant interactions. It also came off as you were invalidating and dismissing the bad experiences people might have had with misbehaving Destiel shippers, which I'm sure you're nice enough NOT to do. My beef is really not with you, or Tink, or any other Destiel 2/?

meta writer, my beef is with shippers who are genuinely hateful and do hateful things. You simply came off as you didn't believe there are Destiel shippers who do these things at all. That say, I won't apologize for venting to like-minded people about my utter dislike for the ship, because we do in fact do that. But I don't think it's fair you walked in on us at that point and extrapolated that's all we do. BTW there is in fact an Anti-Destiel GC and the irony is, if you had walked into that 3/4

one 24hrs earlier, you would have in fact found people gushing about Megstiel and Sastiel, LMAO. 4/4

...

Okay, I’ll give you pointers for being bold enough to come explain this in my ask box, and I commend @super-powerful-queen-slayyna for reaching out to try to calm the stormy seas. I am most likely not going to make any further comments on that post anyway because it has blown out of control and has escalated into a full blown ship war post which I never wanted when I sent it. It’s now Destiel shippers and my friends trying to defend me or people blatantly calling me names and using unnecessary language which I am not even going to acknowledge or give the time of day as I don’t go in for that sort of childish name calling (unless you count my use of the word bronly but some things I think even we can agree are a necessary evil).

My post was a response to my own hurt and irritation at coming across two GCs, one for Sastiel, and one for Megstiel, which were both recommended to me by Tumblr, which were not tagged as anti-Destiel that I could see, that appeared on the surface to simply be places for people to discuss and squee over those ships. In both GCs I saw nothing but hate and lies and other upsetting comments about Destiel and Destiel shippers. It was extremely disheartening to see that in what on the surface appeared to be safe spaces. Because here’s the thing, these shipper GCs should be safe spaces. I have friends that are multishippers, that like Sastiel (and even the odd few who like Megstiel even though admittedly I don’t anymore.) There are plenty of other people out there in fandom that might like all three ships (I’d imagine those people simply want Cas to have all the love in which case SAME). 

To get one point very clear, I don’t actually care if people hate Destiel. I’m not going to preach to anyone about Destiel unless someone comes to me directly or comes scrolling my blog. I always tag Destiel so anyone who uses Tumblr blacklist should be able to avoid my blog completely. I would never intentionally go looking in an anti Destiel chat group. I’ve seen it all before anyway and it’s the same old arguments that really don’t affect my shipping preferences or my beliefs. 

What annoyed me was that those GCs were not anti Destiel chats. They were Megstiel and Sastiel chats. They were places where impressionable young Megstiel and Sastiel shippers could come across, who have zero feelings towards Destiel, and find themselves being told a bunch of lies and nasty crap about Destiel shippers and the ship. They are places where Destiel shippers who like to ship those other ships too might come across and suddenly find themselves isolated and alienated, which only perpetuates retaliation from those Destiel shippers and potentially causes the hate that you stress is so virulent among Destiel shippers to begin with.

My post was a warning for multishippers who are also Destiel shippers or at least Destiel friendly, that those GCs were being used to spread hate about Destiel. It was also an FYI to the people in those GCs that their hatred was very much public, in case they weren’t aware. I tagged the ships because I wanted people who ship Megstiel and Sastiel to see it, especially if they are Destiel friendly, because yeah, I’d want them to avoid those GCs.

Yes I then got snarky. I claimed that this does kinda prove a point because no Destiel GC that I’ve seen includes a bunch of hate and nastiness aimed at other ships. Sure, there is a high chance that there are hateful Destiel shippers out there. There are certainly a lot of bitter people on Twitter who piss me off when they scream queerbaiting at the writers so yes, of course there are bad eggs. I was shocked that from what I saw, there was no squee or shared theories or excitement about the ships, just page after page of hate aimed at Destiel shippers. So yes, perhaps I happened upon both convos right when those topics cropped up (which would be rather coincidental) and perhaps I had just missed the topics that I was interested in checking out - the theories, the meta, the spec... That’s what I was interested in. Since these GCs are a way to keep a finger on the pulse of what the fandom might be thinking in terms of the show and shipping and I was curious. Believe it or not I actually like to keep an open mind even though Megstiel is something that gives me a bad taste in my mouth ever since I sat myself down and truly thought about it. 

I generalised. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but those GC convos pissed me off. I don’t know a single Destiel shipper who would spend hours of their day just ranting about how awful Megstiel shippers are and how much they hate the pairing. I HAVE debated with friends about the suspected infiltration of the Megstiel ship by Bronlies who are using Meg to get Cas out of the way and to be spiteful towards Destiel shippers. This IS something that has been happening in recent years and I think even you admitted that in one of your replies to my post.

I also wasn’t trying to invalidate your experience with hate. I would never do that. The one thing I will say about anon hate in particular is that you don’t know who it is coming from. I occasionally get anon hate but I certainly don’t immediately assume it’s a w*ncest shipper just because I can’t stand w*ncest. Getting a message in your ask box that says “go kill yourself” is horrible, believe me, I know. But if that’s all it is, you can’t assume the sender was a shipper at all. Unless the message was “I ship Destiel and you can go kill yourself” you just can’t assume. If you have had actual Destiel shippers come and attack and threaten you and send you those messages directly then 1. I am so so sorry because no one deserves that kind of abuse, and 2. I hope you exposed them if you could. Because if there is one thing I have learnt about the Destiel shippers in MY circles, it’s that we find that kind of behaviour completely unacceptable and we WILL call it out from our own side if we see it. 

The reason I have such a high opinion of Destiel shippers being the “nice” people in fandom is simply because I have never seen that kind of behaviour from them. I interact with a lot of people. I have seen Destiel shippers get overly passionate, I have seen them get upset and angry when people lash out at them. I have seen them turn bitter and negative and go off on rants about the show. I have seen them dog pile on an anti’s post to provide evidence against a false claim “Kripke said he’s straight” and I thought it was a bit much... but it wasn’t hate. It was a reaction to years and years and years of being laughed at, called delusional, mocked and ridiculed by all other sides within the fandom. Destiel shippers are desperate for validation. They are desperate to disprove the lies. If people actually listened to us, or read the countless posts that have been written clearly providing evidence and sources to disprove every lie and false claim against Destiel perhaps we wouldn’t be so defensive. That’s what happens when you’ve been gaslighted for 11 years. 

But regardless, I’m not here to get involved in shipping wars. You’ll continue going on hating Destiel, and I will continue going on and, well, not hating, but very much disliking Megstiel in canon (though I have read some very sweet Destiel fics where Meg is Cas’s best friend and enjoyed the characterisations there.) 

My post was never to gatekeep and stop you from ranting about Destiel. Rant away to your hearts content. As I said above I really don’t care if people hate it. All I ask, is that you keep that kind of content in places that are clearly labelled as anti Destiel. So that should a Destiel shipper want to check out a Sastiel or a Megstiel GC, they can do, without feeling completely unwelcome and hated on just for enjoying Dean and Cas’s relationship as well. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask. All it takes is one tag right? Create your Megstiel GC and by all means rant about Destiel in it, but please just tag it as Anti Destiel.

Thank you for reaching out to me and explaining your side of things. I do appreciate it. 

[girlbookwrm]

i can’t believe i’m doing this

@jhscdood​ listen i got No Time to write the fics for this right now, but have some Fellowship of the Pod People (but not like that) Headcanons.

@ all of the rest of you, please for Eru’s sake help yourselves: literally nothing would make me happier than to have someone else write this shit so i could read it like the lazy asshole i am.

None of this will make a DAMN LICK OF SENSE if you aren’t familiar with the Not Your Mama’s ABO Clownfish AU that @silentwalrus1​ created with @skellerbvvt​ and @galwednesday​ in the Magnificently Weird MCU Stucky Gem Scents & Sensibility 

shit this got hella long don’t look at me but please all feel free to correct/expand/modify because I just whipped these off to decompress after a long day

The Númenóreans are responsible for all that “reef” “pod” and assorted “fishy” terminology, so while “pod” “reef” etc may be the accepted academic names, they’re often replaced with local variants and colloquialisms. The Númenóreans picked this linguistic quirk up from the sea-obsessed Noldor elves, so it’s sometimes used in Rivendell and Lothlorien too.

(The Sindar elves fucking hate that)

(Sindar use bee euphemisms instead. It’s all “hives” and “skeps” etc etc etc. Try to tell me Thranduil isn’t a Queen Bee. I FUCKIN DARE U. The wine is all honey mead. Hex honeycomb aesthetic for the win. Even the dungeons.)

(FYI Dwarves ALSO have a Hexagonal Aesthetic and that just Really Gets Thranduil’s Goat.)

everyone’s got their own local names for alphas and omegas too because seriously who fucking came up with that, i bet there’s a whole appendix at the end of the red book about terminology and shit

(Now I’m having meta thoughts about linguistics and there being a clownfish!Tolkien to go with the clownfish!Middle Earth. And now I’m thinking about the Inklings being a pod and if i follow THAT rabbit hole any further I’ll fu cki ng  AS C E N DHJKfghjk.)

Anyway

Men smell gross. Everyone else is agreed upon this. Unflattering comparisons to badgers and weasels have been made.

This makes “MANFLESH” 12000% more hilarious ur welcome

it’s funny cuz Men are big into perfumes. Incense! Herb Sachets! Oils and tinctures! Have you ever seen a olde tyme perfumers’ box? That kinda shit. Everyone has their Signature Smell.

but elves especially are like you still smell like man stop trying to hide it.

The Dúnedain embrace The Musk. (some have fully weaponized it)

this is very important: Aragorn Smells Amazing. (to be clear, still very Man Smelling, but awesome. first time he goes all I AM UR KING everyone in the throne room goes a little glassy eyed.)

Minas Tirith, being old, is very Old Numenorean Oceanic Aesthetic. Give me all that white stone carved to look like coral and driftwood holy shit YES. 

WHITE! TREE!! GARDEN!!! 

ATHELAS!!!! SCENTED!!!!! EVERYTHING!!!!!! (pairs well with lemon and other citrus smells.)

veering away from Gondor now

The Rohirrim stick with horse metaphors because of course they fucking do. Also, since they’re more nomadic, the entire concept of a “reef” as in a physical structure is kind of ??????? to them. So. “Reefs” = “herds” and “pods” = “bands.” 

Fresh Hay is considered to be Peak Homely Smell in Edoras. Tapestries! Only The Softest and Nicest and Most Beautifully Tooled leather! leather smells!

OH SHIT GIVE ME ALPHA-FOR-LIFE-EOWYN MEETING FOREVER!OMEGA FARAMIR *HEAVY BREATHING*

(oh shit while we’re in the neighborhood, Dúnedain Rangers tend to be solitary As, which spooks the natives like whoa, but the Ithilien Rangers are generally O, and their waterfall hideout is totes a big ole reef.)

hang on i forgot about elves

Listen, I’m not super into elves myself but I’m imagining that they are perpetually switching back and forth between A and O depending on the day — nay, the HOUR — and the extremes between A and O are much less extreme for them than other races.

Every other race finds this super weird and disturbing.

Legolas is like “hm this forest is making me feel very O.” And Aragorn and Gimli are just like ‘what’ and then suddenly Leggy smells very O too and Aragorn and Gimli are like ‘WHAT’

Feänor is the exception. He turned the dial all the way to A and broke the goddamn knob off.

Galadriel can go from Maximum Softe O to Roid Rage A in .0004 seconds. “iiiinstead of a dark lord yyYYOU WOULD HAVE A QUEEEEEEN!!!1!” and the Hobbits are literally bowled over.

Elves in general smell woody but also very ocean-y i think? Have you ever stood in a pine forest by the ocean, where you get those light, clean wood and cedar and pine smells all shot through with sea breeze? Like That.

But elves are more into visual/audio. Soft singing. Leaves moving in the breeze. The whisper of pages in a library. 

and the light. Elves are lighting wizards, they are all about that gentle starglow.

(I’m also having thoughts about the Lothlorien Elves embracing that A-ish urge to be Up High. A holdover from Galadriel’s time with the feanoreans? I'm not as up on silm lore as I should be)

but let’s get back to my happy place: 

THE MUTHAFUCKIN SHIIIIIIIIRE

Hobbits really embrace dat sweet sweet O lifestyle. good food and warm hearths. throw blankets and pillows. hugging and cuddle puddles and playing footsie. gardens. Gardens. G A R D E N S. 

“Going A” is done as rarely as possible. the transition takes about a month and Hobbits who are “going A” tend to call in sick like it’s some unsightly thing. 

Tooks have an unusually high rate of going A. Of course they do.

Bilbo has never gone A. Not! Once!

Neither has Frodo.

Sam did, after the breaking of the Fellowship. Merry and Pippin did, in Fangorn, when they grew six inches. The three of them all stayed A after that, for the most part. YES EVEN SAMWISE. it was v scandalous.

Hobbit “reefs” are called “warrens” (unless ur rich, then they’re Smials and they’re Only For Family) and their “pods” are “nests.” “Nesting” is a whole Thing.

Hobbits! Smell! Like! Baked! Goods! Not sweet but like… warm. Humans sometimes turn their noses up and call it a “yeasty” or “beery” smell but it’s usually much more a rising-bread smell. Pipeweed smoke and sweet florals make a nice contrast to the perpetual bakery window smell.

Hobbits are very mouth/taste/chew oriented. Mouthfeel is a Big Deal. Recipe Books are Heirlooms. Courting is frequently Food/Drink Oriented.

Rosie Cotton brews the finest ale in all the land and she did that for the express purpose of seducing Samwise Gamgee

He Did Not Realize.

Courting that is not food/drink oriented is Flower/Plant oriented.

Sam Gamgee became the finest gardener in all the land in the desperate hope of wooing Mr. Frodo.

He Did Not Realize.

Everyone Else Realized. Merry and Pippin especially considered it Peak Comedy.

(they eventually worked it out.)

last but not least:

there’s just no way around it. Dwarves smell like dirt. nice dirt tho! Petrichor and stone with hints of copper and metals. Smoke smells. Rich spice smells. Eau de forge is considered a particularly desirable perfume. Dwarves don’t particularly notice smell though (for reasons that will become apparent) when it comes to Softe Things they’re much more about dem sweet sweet sparklies, and fur, and being super fucking tactile.

Dwarves are SUPER into haircare, like, every night the Company of Thorin makes a braid circle and exchanges hair beads. 

(elves are also super into hair care. this too really Gets Tharanduil’s Goat)

Dwarf social structure is like… hobbits in reverse. They tend to default to A status, hence their general rowdiness but with strict codes of conduct to help manage conflict. They’re just these huge roving groups of A’s just rough-and-tumbling around their one O. dogpiles are peak pod bonding. aaaaand the alpha reek kind of tends to make them all a little noseblind.

Poor Bilbo.

Lucky, Lucky Bilbo.

But also poor, poor Bilbo.

Most dwarf Royals go O, but Thorin hadn’t been O since he was 24 and got chased out of Erebor by that pesky dragon.

Dwarf “reefs” and “pods” have their own terms in Khuzdul that do not translate well but have to do with crystal growth. Rough translations are “lattices” and “cells” (Hence the hexagon aesthetic)

Wizards Have No Designation. They Smell Like Gunpowder and Lightning. It Is Very Disturbing For Everyone Around Them.

A

N

Y

W

A

Y

Give me EveryoneLives!au Hobbit stuff. Bilbo trying to homely up the lonely mountain! Thorin going O and chilling the fuck out as a result! 

Give me fellowship!pod!! Aragorn is the diplomat! Pippin is the wild child! Gimli is the Adventurer! Frodo is the peacekeeper! Boromir is the den mother!

How Much More Heartrending is the Breaking of the Fellowship if the fellowship was a pod????

and then you’ve got the fractured podlings: Merry and Pippin bonding hard with their new Rohan and Gondor stress-pods. Sam going A to protect Frodo from Gollum while Frodo tries to adopt this weird frog into their pod. The Three Hunters as Nick, Nora and Nelson (Gimli is Nick, Leggy is Nora, Aragorn is Nelson.)

Give me post-war Legolas and Aragorn and Gimli (and Arwen too) breaking cultural boundaries and proving that yes! Interracial Pods Can Work! these differences are cultural, and cultures can be melded! nothing wrong with this! if half-elves exist and can have kids of their own, then elves and men are not separate species, and I’d bet a significant limb that the same is true of all the other races so

GIVE IT TO ME

ok i gotta stop now.

...

yeah there’s probably a star trek one of these coming too

kill me

(And hey jhscdood I’m not saying you have to come back at me with more lotr clownfish or ocean’s 11/Star Wars/M*A*S*H/Leverage/West Wing/whatever clownfish But I would certainly consider it a Fair Exchange if you did. MORE INSTITUTIONALIZED SOFTISM. MAXIMUM SOFT FISH FRIENDS.)

[the-cryptographer]

My tiny yugioh shrine - before and after pics. The Jounouchi figure still up top, holding a chain and ready to shank you with a scapegoat~ But I thought I’d zoom in so we could see my BEAUTIFUL NEW ISHTAR SIBS CLEARFILE INSTEAD~

I thought my shrine was getting a little too shippy. And especially a little too shippy in the absence of Mai. WHERE IS ALL THE KUJAKU MAI MERCHANDISE?! i need it pls, thx. But, anyhow~ I bought the Ishtar clearfile off of auction. And I thought it might be an old one, but on the back is actually a logo for the 20th anniversary of ygo, last year in 2016. And they weren’t even really in the movie, so now I’m wondering maybe there is also the chance of some recent Mai merchandise out there, hmm, so she will properly be represented in my collection >3>

But yeah, this is just by the exit to my room so i can stop by before i leave for the day and, offer coins or pieces of fruit or whatever and pray at my card game based alter, and maybe then Jounouchi’s good luck will rub off on me a little~

...

And there’s also a gore version of the shrine, but I usually keep that picture in the back so visitors don’t think i’m a creep. i guess i’ll put this picture in the front if i ever decide to host ritualistic demon summonings in my room or smthn~

(Both prints are from toxicosis by the way.)

Doujinshi are in another location. And I was only going to talk about my stupid ygo bookshelf shrine thing today, but then my doujin shipment came in and I decided FUCK IT i will brag about my crippling lack of impulse control cool swag all at once if i want to... Under the cut-

@battymarionette

If you remember this one~

tdah~ Basically it seems like a Kaiba Corp has put out a game, some kind of ridiculous fantasy RPG where Atem is some kind of Ron the Death Eater villain and Jou may or may not be the princess or smthn. And Mokuba invites Jounouchi over to play it or playtest it or something of that nature. Which seems like as good a premise as any for this kind of thing. And it’s got all the cute platonic Joukuba vibes which is a plus~

But yeah, Jounouchi goes over to Mokuba’s place, has some kind of fight with Seto, and some kind of conversation with Atem, and Mokuba’s kind of confused or upset about something, and then Jou gets all cute and announces that he and Kaiba are dating~ which i’m pretty sure Seto didn’t want Mokuba knowing about or whatever~

But, see, now I’m making this doujin sound sweet when, to be really blunt, i didn’t like it. At some point Seto slaps Jounouchi across the face for something.

I guess I shouldn’t pass judgement when I can’t even read the moon runes that explain why this has happened, but- no. (I’m trying to articulate. It’s not that I think Jou and Seto are incapable of being violent with one another (jfc how hypocritical would it be of me) but there’s something about the whys and the hows~? in my mind, Seto doesn’t gets hands on with that kind of thing unless it’s landing a measured martial arts blow in self defense, or lashing out from a place of extreme vulnerability - the kind that involves him being five seconds away from curling up in a ball of self-protection. So... Seto being collected and composed and instigating violence on Jounouchi’s triggers all my ‘no’ responses. And I also doubt Jounouchi would take that kind of thing without complaint, unless he was actually raving or spiraling and it was, like, a calm-the-fuck-down slap. I think he would definitely retaliate with shouting and intimidation, if not a physical blow. With Jounouchi it’s a little harder for me to define what would prompt physical violence, partly because i think his idea of what violence is is narrower than mine, and doesn’t include things like grabbing somebody’s jacket collar and shaking them around. But, hmm, I think by the time he’s through canon he doesn’t exactly break out the fistcuffs lightly.)

The point was that this doujin made it to the top of my shit list very fast. And I was concerned because, see, I had been avoiding buying KaiJou (in that order) doujins because most of them kind of do this thing to me and completely miss the glass cannon type of volatile fragility I see as being kind of central to Kaiba’s character. But then I caved and ordered a whole bunch. But, actually, I was pleasantly surprised by the other couple of ones I bought, so maybe the curse has finally lifted~ I liked this one in particular-

But, tbh, it also knew the way into my heart~

The way into my heart is Wheeler siblings :x

@rainstormcolors

First of all, I got POLARIS and it was good!

I don’t know what to share about it other than that because it was mostly porn. But I felt like it was kind of sweet and sentimental and Kaiba and Atem going on silly dates at the beginning with gorgeous background details. Also they sit on the throne together at the end and look very in love teehee~

But, yes, thank you for reccing~ I enjoyed a lot~!

BUT- !!! More importantly this finally came in the mail!

To answer your question, it’s a normal rivalshipping anthology. 112 pages, comics and fic~ Exciting things happen like Yuugi and Kaiba playing twister~

And in another story they’re out travelling and having punishment games of some sort and Yuugi gets a beard painted on his face~

AND HIS MOM OMG!! I love when odd characters cameo in my doujins. I think you can tell~

But, no, I lied- I addition to the anthology I got all this other stuff too~

I don’t know. There’s a set of tiny playing cards you have to disentangle. Some have exciting images.

Notably Jounouchi and Atem are the jokers, heh~

I still haven’t checked out the CD. This is a very rushed post where I don’t attempt to read things carefully or any of that~ But it comes with a manual with a bunch of character avatars - lots of expressions for Yuugi and Kaiba, as well as one avatar each for Jou, Anzu, baby Seto, Kisara, and BEWD. So I think it may be a visual novel of sorts. Undetermined~

So now you’ll know what you’re getting if you decide to order, in theory at least. I’m not sure because I bought this off the author’s BOOTH, so idk if the extra merchandise is limited in any manner or if toranoana only sends part of it(?)

ugh, let’s see.

I also got another anthology- a Yuugi-centric one.

It’s mostly rivalshipping, which I’d expect. rivalshipping is really popular in the jp fandom. but, tbh, i enjoyed the more odd ships more-

Like Juudai/Manjoume/Yuugi... Kaiba walks in on the Kohais basically crushing yuugi with love after this it’s so cute~

And Otogi/Yuugi. Ah~ I love the DDM chapters in the manga and how softly Otogi warms up to Yuugi~

A Duel Monsters themed art book I spent too much on~ I’m ashamed to say I don’t recognise a whole lot of the cards

but you’ll recognise Yubel, perhaps~

or the lady that Y!Bakura crossdresses as ;)

and there were quite a few dark magician girls and blue eyeses.

from another illustration book~

and i found a couple of apprenticeshipping doujins on BOOTH, but none of them wow-ed me really~

although I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how Mana inherited the Ring in manga canon. I feel like there are things to consider here. This picture struck me as a result.

Alright~ And now for my favourites~

OMG! A WHOLE DOUJIN ABOUT MALIK AND HIS SIBLINGS!!! I think this one was a predictable fave. I loved it so, sooo much. I was absolutely filled with quality Malik and Rishid moments.

EVERYONE IS SO CUTE!!

Malik and Rishid go biking and run into Mai which is very !!!

There are vacation photographs~

It looks like Malik tries to feed Ra a revival slime and gets eaten himself. I don’t know. But it was good. I’m so happy~ Ishtar family doujins. My life is complete. not really. i can’t die until i finish my fics.

Okay, but my other fave I didn’t see coming at all.

I don’t ship this! I shouted into the void. But nobody really believed her, not even herself. It’s too late for me. I’m just multiship trash. I will ship anything you put in front of me...

Okay, but the real reason I decided to get this was because of this preview panel. Of course I knew it was puzzlleship. But actually I love Mana and vaseshipping for reals. And this was so cute and the art was so pretty I thought- We might as well check the rest of it out~ (the idea of top!Yuugi didn’t hurt either...)

And then jackels happened~ And this kind of ethereal magic stuff~

There was some confusion I think with the cultural imagery in the doujin. Some of it looked vaguely Indic to my untrained eye but- I don’t know what to say, the art was so gorgeous and detailed.

And the smut was all facials and frot so obviously the doujin artist has my gd number, smh.

And Jou appeared near the end, looking amazing, and Jou is automatically about +50 points for any doujin.

I don’t know what to say. Very nice. Would recommend.

Also- just fyi- I do buy doujins for things that aren’t ygo. pls forgive my focus on my ygo obsession tho.

I’m really glad I stumbled across this in the hetalia tag~

And there’s a picture of Tifa being so bad at games at the golden saucer that Nanaki, who doesn’t even have opposable thumbs, can defeat her in PvP. Beautiful~