#honestly i feel like i'm still trying to hammer that into my own brain

[crumbleclub]

Anyway. Mike regaining a sense of bodily autonomy after years of trauma and being given the impression that he's not allowed to have boundaries or make choices.

Haircuts, piercings. He can change how he looks, if he wants. Nobody can stop him. He can lock his door, and people have to knock rather than just barging in. No one can make him lie for them, or force him to lie to himself until he gets confused about what really happened. People can't touch him without asking. Nobody is allowed to go rifling through his belongings without permission.

[ervotica]

loved up?

pairing; fred weasley x fem!reader

series; the bestfriendverse NEW! (ongoing)

warnings; allusions to self harm (reader), pining, idiots in love (but they don't know it yet), a lil sad but also fluffy

synopsis; fred gives you - his obviously platonic best friend - a cuddle in the common room. an interrogation ensues.

a/n; i'm veeeery rusty but i'm back bitches!! and proud to present.... the bestfriendverse. turning this into a lil series of drabbles (& hopefully longer chapters) if my brain keeps braining for long enough. so requests are muchly appreciated and my inbox is always open. cannot wait to explore these two in more depth!!! missed you all </3

You're halfway into Fred's lap when George and Lee round the corner to the common room, melty soft and warm with your legs over his thighs, eyes closed and lashes brushing at the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

He smells lovely.

He feels even lovelier – that soft rumble of his chest that lazily pushes its way through you, his hand at the side of your neck, keeping you nuzzling against him like a needy kitten. He hikes you further up and you preen, eyes still closed, half asleep and well on your way to drooling on his shoulder.

You stretch and wheedle your arms underneath his own until your shoulder is squeezed beneath his armpit. He makes room for you, as expected.

"Oi! They're having a love-fest in here!" Lee says. You groan and dig your head further into Fred's neck. Your heartbeat ticks up when he scrubs a sweeping circle over your back with his palm outstretched –you don't even mind when he rucks up your t-shirt.

You diligently ignore the hammering in your own ears.

The other end of the settee dips and George's weight settles at your back, knuckles brushing at the back of your neck in a way he knows makes you bristle and squirm. You squeak and make to dive behind Fred.

"Leave her be, Georgie," Fred says, mock offence dripping from his every syllable. His arm lifts instinctively and he ushers you right under until you're well and truly squashed, your whole body curled inward against his chest. It's endearing how seriously he takes defending your honour. "We were very comfortable before you interrupted, you silly sod."

"I resent that comment."

"You resemble it, more like."

George gasps in faux horror. You tip your head upwards just in time to watch Lee throw his arms around the pair of you, a devious grin on his face.

You know what he's going to say, no matter how much you wish he wouldn't.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you two looked proper loved up. Wouldn't you agree, George?"

"Absolutely."

If Fred feels you deflate, he's gracious enough not to mention it. Your lips purse and you busy yourself picking at your cuticles.

"Shut up," Fred snorts as though the thought alone is utterly ridiculous. Your heart does this awful sort of flip-flop that knocks the breath right out of you– it leaves an ache that carries right down to your toes.

You try to disentangle yourself from him as smoothly as possible. You want to run and hide from this conversation, the very conversation you've been rehearsing over and over in your head for months.

Being in love with your best friend isn't for the faint of heart.

Fred clings when you attempt to slide out of his grip, tugging you right back into his side. Heat rises to your cheeks so fast you feel faint.

Honestly, you might pass out right now.

Lee's already distracted, animatedly discussing the next upcoming prank with almost concerning fervour. Fred absentmindedly fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt as he listens.

Godric, you're burning up.

You can feel George's eyes on you. You know what he wants to say – can picture it right down to the pitying look in his eyes. He's always been the more observant twin.

You don't want to hear it.

Fred won't let go no matter how much you fidget. You pick at your nails until red pools at the edges of your cuticles. The sting prickles at your eyes.

"Hey." Fred's attention snaps to you suddenly. "What's the matter, lovie? You feeling alright?"

Fucking hell. He must be doing it on purpose, surely. Your throat burns.

"Nothing," you croak. "I'm okay."

It's just convincing enough for him to leave it, though you're half sure you'll be questioned later.

He smears a kiss to the crown of your head before he stands and it almost finishes you off.

That boy is going to be the death of you.

[bunnys-kisses]

hi Bunny! Could you do a croissant and root beer and whatever’s on the house with Lewis Hamilton?

bakery menu

want to put in your own order? hit me up! i'm still accepting orders! we're always serving up smiles! for this, i went with a mafia au route, the idea of lewis in a crisp suit was ratting around in my jellybean brain, haha. i thought of him teasing horner!reader

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + root beer (filming/recording) + on the house (choice:size kink)

cw: smut/pwp, horner!reader, missionary, size kink, photo-taking,

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you looked at lewis before he pressed his lips up against your neck. his hands were palming your breasts as he rubbed his hard cock against you.

"you're really pretty when you're under me." he chuckled, he loved taking you in the missionary position. he loved the small movements in your face as you try to take all of him. it was honestly so endearing that you were trying so hard to get all of himself inside of you.

you two were forbidden lovers! or at least that was what the gossip rags said about you. when the paparazzi got a photo of you stumbling out of a club, or him with his arm around you.

there was a photo that was circulated that was certain you two were together because it was you whispering in his ear at a carnival in some small town, but from the angle it looked like you two were kissing. didn't help the photo right after was you two sharing a sweet smile.

you were the off limits daughter of christian horner. you had spent your entire life around a paddock, so the pretty smiles of the drivers never fazed you. except for lewis hamilton, who came into your life like an inferno.

while a heartthrob across many countries, you started out as friends. but, even forest fires started as a spark. and you were at lewis' for the weekend after lying to your father about seeing a few of your friends from uni.

"does he know? i wonder if he talks about me?" lewis chuckled when he took your weekend bag from your hand and put it to the side. waiting any longer for you felt impossible.

his hands slid up from under your shirt as he pressed a searing kiss to your jaw. you felt hot all over at the feeling of his against your flesh. he was the kind of lover that made you heart hammer in your chest enough that you scrambled to get the shirt off over your head.

"i can see why he's so protective of his daughter, you're beautiful." he said, "pretty thing around the paddock will turn a few heads." he laughed, "but no one knows you're here with me tonight." he kissed at your jaw and held onto your shoulders. he then moved to your lips and kissed you deeply.

"stop talking about my father." you groaned.

"why? i thought you were a proud horner." he chuckled, "don't want to talk about dear old father in the bedroom?" he rubbed himself up against you.

"you prick." you said, your lips close to his.

he chuckled, "you love me." then took you by the back of the head and pulled you in for a hot kiss. his other hand was on the waistband of your pants to get them off of you. he had enough of waiting.

he needed his sweet girl.

the trek to his bedroom felt long because he was trying to get your shorts off before you reached the room. then when you finally got on the bed, you got your pants and underwear off. which left you in your bra and lewis was admiring the sight of you.

he palmed the front of his pants and admired you. you were beautiful, the sight of you left his mouth dry as he looked at you. how did a guy like horner have a daughter so beautiful?

he got onto the bed beside you and got off his sweater before he pulled you close to him and then further onto the bed. you laid tangled up in one another as he kissed down your neck. his soft lips felt so good against you.

his hands massaged your breasts. he whispered sweet praise against your skin as you felt so close to him. it was amazing. he made a heat run through you as you laid there next to him.

"such a pretty girl." he admitted, "i can't get enough of you. they shouldn't let you in the paddock because you're so much of a distraction."

you held the man's face, looked in his eyes and said, "i thought i was your good luck charm?"

he smiled, not the one for the cameras. but one that held a genuine truth, he pressed his nose against yours and with his eyes closed, replied, "of course. i just think you should be wearing my number so no one gets the wrong idea."

"you menace."

"only for you."

once you two were fully naked, you rubbed up against him. you laid cuddled up in each other's arms as you felt him up. he kissed you once more before he got you onto your back and was between your legs.

he gazed at you lovingly as he wrapped your legs around his waist. he leaned over you, hand on your face as he kissed you gently once more. you felt like a dream to him, a perfect woman for him to indulge in. to love.

maybe you two did have a back and forth, but deep down the feelings for you were painfully true. it was now just a game of chicken until one of you admitted to the other.

"i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." he said softly, hands on your breasts.

you wanted to throw a pillow at him as you responded, "enough about my father or i'm going home."

he chuckled and gave you one last, almost sweet, kiss on the cheek before he grabbed you by this hip with one hand and his cock with the other. he maintained eye contact as he watched your face change as he push his cock into you.

he was impressive in size, sort of big compared to you. that gleaming smile and strong arms made you feel protected. your heart leapt as you felt his cock being buried into you.

he liked that he was bigger than you, sometimes he'd press his palm up against yours and point out the difference. it was cute, "it's not your fault you're so small. means that i just have to protect you."

but at that moment, you could really feel the difference as lewis gave you gentle praise.

you tensed up but his soft words against you managed to make you relax a little. he got his cock into you to the base and shuddered at the feeling of your tight cunt around him. you felt so good.

he smiled at you, feeling the sweat already at the back of his neck. he smiled at you. no one could deny that he was handsome, you remember his little fan club. you'd often scoff at it. if they saw you now.

you kissed once more as you began to move against one another. you gripped onto his shoulders as he held you by waist. his lips were on your neck, occasionally dragged his front teeth against your skin, threatening to bruise it.

he thought about making a comment about your father once more. really rub it in, but as your expression started to look more relaxed and blissed out. he couldn't bring himself to say it. call him soft.

he continued to rut into you, his heart hammered in his chest as he held you close to him. his chest pressed against yours, your nails dug into his massive back tattoo as the two of you continued to kiss.

it felt primal and hot, it made you core feel like an inferno as you moved. you moaned a little.

"you should be wearing my number next time." he said, "i'll even be nice and say it doesn't even have to be mercedes branded. i know your dad would have a fit if he saw that. remember the ferrari temporary tattoo."

you rolled your eyes, "what did i say about my father, lewis." you remembered the event quite well. you managed to get a ferrari temporary tattoo on your arm as a joke and your father gave you a stern talking to. especially because it was clearly seen in most photos of the event.

you thought it was funny, but you didn't want your old man yapping at you if you strolled up in a mercedes shirt and lewis on your arm.

you kissed once more, you felt the curl of orgasm in your gut as he moved against you. you held his face as you kissed him. you felt warmth pool in your gut.

you held onto him tighter as you felt the orgasm swirl in your body. you panted close to him and said, "i'm close. shit, lewis."

he nodded, "perfect. cum for me, pretty girl." he made it his mission to make you finish. he tightened his grip onto you and really put in the work.

it wasn't long before you were holding onto him as tightly as you could. you tensed up around him and let out a cute, almost pathetic moan as you came.

you still held onto him as you relaxed and let him continue to fuck you. his orgasm was close behind as he really thrusted up into you. your pussy was a wet heat that made his head spin as he finally got to his peak and finished inside of you.

he admired the sight of your face as he moved through his orgasm. he eventually slowed down to a stop and panted heavily as he looked down at you. he admired the sight of you for a moment, he kissed you once more and said.

"i really wonder if your father knows. about all this. that you'll one day be my mrs. hamilton." he smiled as he gave you a soft thrust in effect.

"shut up, hamilton." you said as you reached to his face and covered it with your hand.

you laid there in a sweaty mess. you watched lewis get out of bed to grab his phone from his pants pocket. he came back and knelt between your legs. earlier he wanted to film the entirety of you fucking, but thing moved a little too fast for that.

he did however prod at your pussy with his fingers and watched his pearly cum ooze of your fucked hole. he filmed it briefly for his personal collection. how he ruined horner's daughter for any other man.

when he finished filming, he took a few photos of you naked body. he'll be needing this in the weeks to come. in fairness, if he ruined you for other men. then you ruined him for other women.

one last picture of your pretty pussy and he was content.

"lewis." you said.

"yes?" he asked as he got a close up photo of your face as you still panted heavily, coming down from your high. the sight made him hard once more.

"oh, you pervert." you said as you reached for him.

-

the following weekend you were around the paddock as usual. you had greeted your father earlier and he was happy to see you. you kept your hands behind your back as to make sure your old man didn't see what was around your wrist.

but when lewis saw it, he felt a curl of possessiveness in his gut. he even went as far as to take your wrist and looked at the gold bracelet. on it was a charm that was two simple numbers, '44'. lewis kissed your wrist and looked into your eyes.

"next time." he said, "i'll get you something a little more noticeable. that you can't hide from your dad." he chuckled. he really was a menace. <3

[wanderingblindly]

i can only agree with the other anon, your prompt fills are giving me LIFE <3 and if you have the time, could we maybe get a landoscar + 22 or 31 pls? have a lovely evening!

YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD GET RID OF ME!!! YOU REALLY THOUGHT!! UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOUR ALL I CAN'T WORK ON ANY OF MY WIPS BECAUSE MY BRAIN IS IN HELL!!! anyways here's landoscar for "a kiss after a small rejection", looooooosely inspired by Hungary 2024! prompt list here :))

What Can I Say?

The lift is deathly silent, almost like it's frozen. If he couldn't feel it moving under his feet, if he wasn't intently watching the numbers tick upwards towards their end, he would think it was the universe punishing him further – giving him more chances to fail at biting his tongue.

Oscar's standing next to him so stilly that, similarly, Lando wonders if he's turned to stone.

He doesn't even know what to say to him. Clearly he's meant to say something if Oscar chose to sneak into the same lift, if he waited in hospitality for so long that the bulk of the crowd had died down.

The lift ticks by the fifth floor.

He's meant to say congratulations, probably. Definitely. He's definitely meant to say congratulations, meant to drown out the caustic words building on the back of his tongue. It's not that he doesn't want to, but it's hard. Not because it came at the expense of Lando's win – he can get his own wins, those not handed to him by strategy and team orders. But it's the fact that it came after his own public lambasting, a public verbal crucifixion as the team drove nail after nail into his bleeding wrists.

How is he meant to say congratulations when it was written in his own blood?

Oscar doesn't even know that it was, not really. He didn't hear each strike of the hammer unto iron, like it's some tightly kept secret between Lando, the team, and every single fan. But not Oscar.

It hangs in the stagnant air between them: a secret the other doesn't know exists and the looming feeling that they'd both simultaneously played the villain and the victim.

They pass the tenth.

"You could come to mine," Oscar finally mumbles, voice so quiet that Lando nearly misses it. It's not quite an invitation, definitely not a question. Certainly it's not a declaration of want, of desire. It's something more fragile than that.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Lando says; from the corner of his eye, he sees Oscar move – leaning against the wall like speaking took it out of him.

"Oh."

"It's not…" Lando trails off, finally giving up with a sigh; he joins Oscar against the wall, both of them still staring at the ticking numbers. It's a countdown to something.

"A good idea." Oscar repeats for him, tone harsh in it's neutrality.

"What do you really want?"

Oscar crosses his ankles. He uncrosses his ankles. "I dunno, just to like…" He rubs his hand across his face, the way that makes his delicate skin turn pink. "Go back to normal."

Part of Lando's glad that it's not just him, that he isn't alone in the feeling that the air has gone too thin.

"It will," He says, finally turning to look at Oscar – his eyes are a little red, blinking like he's trying to keep more unsavory emotions at bay. "But not right now."

"I won't apologize," Oscar answers, though Lando never asked. He never asked because he never expected it, because he – honestly – never needed it. He doesn't need Oscar's apology just like he doesn't need Oscar's forgiveness, because, at the end of the day, they knew this was a risk.

And it was a risk they took, last year in in Singapore.

"Me neither." Lando says.

The lift hits fifteen. Lando's on twenty, Oscar somewhere above.

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Lando continues, standing back up and straightening out his polo. Oscar follows him like a shadow, hands shoved in his pockets.

"We'll be ok." He, again, answers something Lando hadn't asked – something Lando knows.

"I know," Lando agrees, voice soft. Before the doors can open, pulling them apart to go ask what ifs into the dark of their hotel rooms, Lando leans towards Oscar. "Soon." Gently, so gentle it may as well have never happened, Lando presses his lips to Oscar's – as if sealing a promise, a deal.

Oscar doesn't move, just takes what Lando gives him and offers lightly closed eyes in return – as if he wishes it could be more.

They separate just before the door opens.

Lando leaves without a goodnight.

[hotchfiles]

passenger seat.

pairing: seth cohen x fem!reader.

summary: you try so hard to help your best friend seth recover from his broken heart you forget about yours

content warnings: underage drinking, mentions of sex and drunk sex. the timeline is like... beginning of season 2, when seth comes back and finds out summer is dating zach. yes i'm gonna work on a part 2 i'm not that mean.

word count: 1,8k

      Summer Summer Summer Summer, it's honestly annoying how Seth can not seem to be able to talk about anything else anymore. And sure it has been like that since you were children, but since he was able to catch a glimpse of what dating her would be like and then lost it, well, he was down right impossible to be around.

      "Cohen, you're getting out of this bed right now, and you're getting some good music in your brain." You pull the cozy blankets from him with full strength while he tried to fight for it.

      "First of all, my brain is always full of good music. And second of all, My Summer is gone, my sun, all I have right now is the cold of winter and the solitude of being single, leave me in the warmth of my bed, please."

      You rolled your eyes and actually felt like you could reach enough to see your brain, his antics were usually amusing but Summer Summer Summer, you almost felt like warming up his face with a punch, but instead you took a deep breath, let go of the blankets and got closer to him, taking advantage of the element of surprise and pushing him out of his bed.

      "I have concert tickets, whiny baby, and Suuummeeer won't get back to you ever if you look that lame." That sparks his interest, you can see, and you're left to pretend it doesn't sting just a tiny bit, what matters is that he gets up and gathers some nice clothes before heading to his shower.

      "You're mean today, stop hanging out with Ryan," he yells from a distance, probably hoping it won't give you enough time for a snarky comeback. Obviously, he was wrong about that assumption, you both grew up together, you could almost predict what he would say already, you were always with a reply on the back of your mind.

      "We're taking turns so you stop being an ugly crying whiny mess."

      "Oh... That's why we took a cab."

      You stare back at him hoping he won't open his big mouth as the bartender serves the several, several shots of tequila you ordered using the not so good fake I.D you handed him. Although Orange County wasn't the best at keeping minors away from alcohol (beachy city full of rich kids) you still didn't want your plans to be ruined at the very beginning of the night.

      "Seth, I'm getting you hammered so you feel better for a night, and I don't hate you for a night." He seems concerned for a second, but knows you well enough not to argue, just as much as he can be annoying with his longass monologues, so can you, and you're not afraid to use violence if needed, misogyny needs to come in handy somehow, and not having your best friend fight you back has got to be it.

      You slide his half of the shots towards him and start quickly gulping yours, only half way in reality sets that maybe, maybe, that was not your best idea. But by then Seth was also doing his own shots and laughing as the tequila burnt his throat, his nose and lips twisting around each time.

      You hear screams and realize the band is probably beginning the set, so you get your beer and give one to Seth, and he makes a comment about how you weren't kidding about getting him hammered, but you almost can't hear him as you pull him by the shirt running so you both can get a reasonably good spot.

      Cohen was a Death Cab for Cutie fan, you knew it, everyone knew it, and if there were any concerts, meetings, or if you had their addressees, you would've chosen them for tonight, but Coldplay was all you could get last minute to get your curly haired boy out of his fortress of solitude at least for one night.

      You both enjoyed some indie rock music so the concert was fun from the start, especially with the alcohol that went straight to your brain as company to the songs that made your body move ever so slightly. Seth obviously didn't dance, he made it quite the point not to, "this is music to enjoy, not to dance, don't disgrace us like that," he says in between laughter and hiccups, giving his beer a tiny sip only because honestly he can not stand the smell of alcohol anymore.

      "Stop being such a looooser, dance with me!"

      You took the bottle from his hand and threw it along with yours on the nearest bin, leading his hands to your waist. This isn't weird. You don't think it's weird, but weirdly, Seth doesn't think it's weird either.

      You're more than thirty minutes into the concert and it's not a slow song at all, Don't Panic roars from the stage and from the audience, you both try to keep up to the rhythm, guiding him to twirl you around and showing him a two step easy peasy dance to follow.

      Seth almost falls down, you both laugh uncontrollably, he's way too drunk for this, you're way too drunk for this, his hands go back comfortably to your waist, as if it was a rooted reaction already, you felt your stomach turn as the music notes changed and you knew what song was coming.

      You looked up and Seth was already looking at you, his beautiful brown eyes staring at yours like he had just discovered something new.

      He wanted to kiss you, he really did, was that weird? Was that bad? Maybe he was too much in his head, and maybe he was too drunk, but he was single and you looked at him like that and you were oh so beautiful and trying so hard to make him smile and maybe he shouldn't because he was still hooked on Summer—but was he really? The more he looks at you, and the more you don't look away, the more he thinks that maybe this is just how things are supposed to be.

      And he didn't even notice what song was playing, too busy paying attention to your breathing, only when your drunken self decided that for some reason this was the time to confess, if anything, you could just play it off as if you were just singing along to Shiver "you know how much I need you, but you never even see me," and before you can hide your eyes and glue them to your feet, Seth pulls you by your neck for a sloppy drunken kiss, your hands grab his shirt but you waste no time and kiss him back.

      Both of you couldn't even wait for the concert to end, leaving and getting into the nearest cab you could find as soon as you can let go of each other for air. His address at the tip of your tongue not mattering how drunk you were.

      You get into the mansion tripping around as you try to kiss each other, not make a sound that could wake his parents, and also find his room, and when you do you almost fall on your ass due to his goddamn skateboard being right in front of his bed, you end up laughing out loud, but Seth closes the door before anyone can hear it.

      "I'm starting to think your parents won't like me sleeping over."

      Guilt starts creeping in and you're not even sure why, like you're doing something bad, something that won't be approved of, your best friend looks at you with a warm gentle smile, pulling you to him by your hand and having you sit on his lap as he's on the edge of his bed, both of your legs on each of his sides, your arms go to his neck.

      "My parents love you, they probably love you more than they love me. Ryan loves you more than he loves me." An overreaction, that's what that is, and you know it, very dramatic that boy, but it gets you giggling and you lean in for a tender, long kiss. but a question pops your mind and you stop it, you're not sure if it's the time to ask it, you might be ruining your only chance to have Seth.

      But you have to.

      "I know that. The real question is... Do you?" Your teeth nervously gnaw on your bottom lip, and Seth knows he loves you, he would never hesitate on that, so it's easy for him to get you close and touch your forehead with his, even if he doesn't know right now if it's the love you're looking for, he knows right now he wants to be with you, so it must be right.

      "Of course, Dumbo."

      You roll your eyes and push him till his back hits his bed, continuing what you two had started and leaving sloppy kisses to his neck as your hands found themselves under his shirt, your hips purposely taking advantage of your position and grinding slowly down his crotch, you imagined it would be easy to get Seth moaning but you didn't think it would be that easy. You loved it.

      You were both horny drunk teens, it took minutes for your clothes to be on the ground and for Seth to be inside of you, your legs surrounding his waist and your fingers pulling on his hair. And it isn't weird, it's familiar, it's hot, it's sensual without the need to pretend to be anything else. It's the best you've ever had simply by how connected you feel to Seth.

      You sleep into his arms, feeling his scent and you're afraid this is a dream you're soon to wake up from.

      You do panic when you wake up at 5A.M, not feeling like facing the rest of the Cohens after what you did to their precious son, Seth was still sleeping like a beautiful baby and you wouldn't wake him up, you hoped he wouldn't be mad at you for leaving without saying goodbye, but you brush your lips against his before sneaking out and you feel like the world is about three times brighter.

      That is, until 8A.M. you took a nap in your own bed to at least pretend you were home during the night, and woke up to Seth's texts after he woke up.

cohen: i rmbr coldplay cohen: i rmbr tequila cohen: nd i rmbr laughing a lot cohen: so even tho i might die of a hangover, thx cohen: might txt summer yellow lyrics dont stop me

      The lightweight bastard had forgotten everything, everything that made your night special. And went right back to Summer talking, maybe you should've just punched him the first time you thought about it.

[eastgaysian]

dragon age white boy rambles ⬇️ i need to revisit his siblings...

see my original vision for caden trevelyan repressed homosexual was always that he was homoerotically obsessed with his superior officer who viewed him as a little brother and after that superior officer died tragically at the conclave this immediately got transferred onto cullen. but this was a failed attempt to try and change the fact that cullen has always been deeply uninteresting to me. like i'm keeping it because it's central to my white boy vision but i've realized now that it's much funnier to focus on the fact he wants to phantom thread solas.

basically he has a Repression Framework for fellow templars/soldiers where attraction is more-or-less acceptably translated into intense devotion/idealization, being weirdly invested in hearing about past exploits, fantasizing about dying in each other's arms etc. with solas, caden has reasons to like/respect him - solas kept the anchor from killing him, he's chosen to aid the inquisition of his own free will despite any reservations, he's a knowledgeable older man with relevant expertise and genuinely impressive capabilities, to some degree even the fact that he's an apostate who knows this much and has avoided being found by templars is something caden finds fascinating.

but at the same time solas is an elven apostate who no one knows anything about and is too mysterious to really trust, so logically caden Can't like/respect him, and he doesn't have any established framework for dealing with these complicated feelings. before he recruits the templars/becomes inquisitor their relationship actually gets off to a tentative good start because the Fundamental Moral Disagreements haven't come to a head yet. caden is technically a very recent ex-templar but he's polite and pragmatic, he puts the work in to help people, and he's always curious to learn more, which are qualities solas can appreciate.

after becoming inquisitor solas immediately disapproves of essentially All of caden's major decisions, while still feeling obligated to stay with the inquisition for the greater good. weirdly, solas pretty openly disliking him is what allows caden to justify liking him, because it's not like he's friends with this elven apostate, they're comrades by necessity, he appreciates the qualities that make solas a necessary comrade, and that's fine. at the same time solas is an older male authority figure who is forced to abide by caden's decisions even if he fucking hates them which is opening up crazy new pathways in caden's brain of being able to, from his point of view entirely justifiably, defy the wishes of an older man he respects and wield power over him. all this clicks into place in caden's head and he's like. I want him flat on his back helpless tender open with only me to help.

what this means in practice is they'll go out a-questing and have what seems on the surface to be a cordial conversation about history or whatever but they're both imagining killing each other with hammers and on caden's side it is sexual and on solas' side it is not. he is fully aware that solas wants to kill him with hammers but honestly this kind of makes it more sexual. he's going to punch solas at some point, immediately apologize for losing his temper, and then be unable to sleep for hours that night touching the bruised knuckles feeling something he can't name but knows isn't quite guilt. because he feels guilty for feeling it. this is the gayest thing that will actually happen between them except for the confrontation at the end of trespasser maybe which can be gay if you think about it. normalest guy in all of thedas 👍

[grandpageepa]

i haven't written in what feels like a lifetime

The time slips out of my hand like grains of sand

I honestly don't know how I am going to live decades more being alive like this but not to say I'm not grateful for my life or that I'm wildly depressed... More like unenthused given how insurmountable the stress is from a day to day basis...i think to myself often ... How in the literal fuck can people live by being housed collectively in a closed space open office concept or whatever the hell job that consumes the majority of our lives? It's devastating how we are the working class subjected to relinquishing the majority of our lives to fund our lives. It's overwhelming. I feel rushed all the time like I'm running through crowds in midtown trying to get to the bus even when I'm not. I'm not complaining about my life because I love my life, I love that I'm free mostly without a husband or a child. I love that I'm free to allocate that time to my own self but it's not much time. I try to relax and decompress after what feels like a battle just to get to the bus stop. I'm emotionally tired and I feel the carpet is pulled from under me. On a serious note, I am appreciative for my life but at the same time, I am paralyzed in my thoughts unable to fathom the real costs of living in reality. Not even just price tags kind of cost but cost to years of our lives never to be lived again. When I was a kid I always thought that adults seem to have it all figured out and maybe there's a different side to living, maybe dying and getting old is optional. I thought to myself many sad nights, how can people act like this knowing there's a finality? Everyone is affected by it but yet it seems more so day by day that no one cares because we're hoarding all our resources in our lifetime for years in the future when we are falling apart, at least the money will be there as a buffer? We wouldn't be any less decrepit but we'll have some comfort towards the end of our life. Honestly it never made sense to me that this is the way life works, but everyone around me confirms that is indeed the case. My dreams seem to have flown away from me. I feel demotivated after work, I feel like it's so much time being hammered into your brain and body all day and then afterwards, I can't quite switch into gear. Things feel very heavy. I feel lots of uncertainty with the future. I find myself putting pressure in items im just holding in my hand. I have to put in a conscious effort to remove the force behind my fingers on my phone case. The woes of not doing what you love will eat you away like rust.

I love to see things progress, to flourish. To turn something bad or purposeless into something beautiful. That's what I live for.

I felt weird today. I had a weird dream. You know the dreams you have the night before that still haunt you the next morning? That kind of dream! It begged the question for me, do I actually want something? It takes me a long time to deliberate. I know it's not specific but a feeling I'm chasing. I'm unbothered now and it feels great. What am I looking to feel that is missing from my life? I don't feel the excessive need for companionship if the quality of that arrangement is forced or garbage. I want only strong valued relationships that charge themselves. I want the explosiveness of truly wanting someone in the magnitude of their existence. I need something with truth though, with so much truth it hurts like hell. That's the shit I need because I could never imagine just pure nonsense from nonsensical people who come together just because. That's not good enough. I need compelling energy and impact.

[auroras-void]

Hmnn if you ever feel bad about not sleeping well, and you've really tried hard but nothing sticks. My personal story is I've had terrible insomnia starting in like middle school at least all the way until I was 19. I had internalized so much about how it was my own fault. I knew I was guilty of "revenge insomnia" and several other bullshit reasons. And I was told all the standard interventions and I tried them again and again, and I could tell it wasn't making much difference, but I also had and still do have horrendous executive dysfunction. So it felt inconclusive because I could never stick to it for more than like a week. And so I blamed myself for it, I told myself I was a failure.

Then one year I had a stretch of time where I had no responsibilities to anyone or anything, I was kinda miserable about it, and it wasn't helping anything. But I just stopped giving a shit about day and night. And I found that after a while it always seemed to stabilize at around 4 or 5 am when I would always feel sleepy. So I just went to bed at 5 am. And I suddenly felt more well rested than ever before. My sleep felt consistent. I didn't have the grogginess, honestly if I had tried to force myself to conform to the standard 9-5 schedule then it would have destroyed me. The only thing wrong was that, I was a little, out of sync with the rest of the world. Or, to me really, the world was out of sync with me. And I was mad about it, because I knew I couldn't fix it.

Then I got some medication, almost begrudgingly prescribed to me from my psychiatrist. Primarily for the anxiety but it had the side effect of causing drowsiness. First one was hydroxyzine and it helped a lot I could actually get myself to sleep when I wanted to. It hurt the quality of my sleep by a lot if I actually took a dose strong enough to be effective, and I could power through it if I didn't. Second one though, 2.5 mg mirtazipine, actually still the same dose I take right now, that one took, and it was pretty gradual, it took a while for my body to adjust to it properly. But today, I notice, taking that on time is the only reliable method to actually get to bed on time. I still stay up late sometimes, but it's always because I got distracted from taking my meds, not from going to bed. If I take my meds, the latest I go to sleep is 1 hour immediately after that. If I'm really determined, I can still keep myself awake, but my brain starts to slow down, it actually makes me feel like it's 5 am.

And suddenly I understand why normal people tell me I'm doing it wrong. If this is what it's like for them then yeah, it seems crazy and disruptive to do insomnia.

But it's not for me. I'm just being punished for having a different brain.

And now I've just kinda, naturally fallen into a mostly healthy sleep schedule without really trying too hard or thinking about it, and, life moves on.

Cause the other thing is this has only fixed exactly 1 (one) of my problems.

I do not feel better. I do not feel happier. I do not have more motivation. I do not have more focus. My ADHD my depression my anxiety, they're all still wreaking havoc on my life, completely independently of this.

I just feel slightly less tired.

That's it.

It does make fighting the rest a little easier I *guess*. But I'm not cured. I'm not suddenly normal. I don't just need another 3 hour lecture about shit I already know. I know how to take care of myself. I just *can't*. I'm just, out of sync with the world. And I lack the autonomy and power to bring it to me. So I need a hammer to strike myself with to bend into shape. How I don't know. No one wants to give me a hammer without lots of back and forth energy I simply don't have. So I just wait. In Limbo, a little longer. Waiting for the next appointment. Praying my memory of it doesn't get corrupted by the constant shower of cosmic rays bouncing around inside my head.

It's been two decades, and my life still hasn't felt like it's begun.

[waitfuckitsnotjustptsd]

fun things i am dealing with rn

- adjusting to my arm being in constant burning and/or stabbing pain and weaker than normal, having to not use it (feelings of low self-worth and guilt for not being productive enough, i wanna take care of my gf goddammit)

- my whole sex deal from the very beginning (scared to make noise, scared of being touched, scared of feeling pleasure, automatically shutting down all arousal whenever it surfaces re: mormon brainwashing, scared to ask for help with anything because what if someone uses that as an excuse to violate me, scared to speak up when something's wrong for fear of upsetting whoever's violating me. laying on my back is a trigger. traumatic amnesia's a bitch. the little i do remember is staring up at the bathroom lights wishing for my clothes while my own biomom made me bleed in sensitive private places with her cruel hands, and that's my earliest memory. that was my introduction to my body. guilt, shame, fear, disgust, body horror, avoidance)

- attachment issues (scared to let anyone get close because to me closeness means being violated, constant masking, last night i mentioned that i need to get my birth control this weekend and my gf gave me the mildly exasperated Look she usually gives me when i've forgotten something important and i thought she was mad and wanted to just disappear so i got out the creamed corn because she likes it and i'm. i'm not afraid of her, i'm afraid of causing anger or disappointment. i know she's not going to hurt me or give me the silent treatment or manipulate me or anything, it's just that my brain and body still haven't quite caught up with time or circumstances)

- my whole sex deal from more recent things (after a guy i liked tore out my heart and danced a jig on it with his stupid soccer cleats i went into a new stage of dissociation because he was my first real foray into sex and i caught feelings and everything went to shit in more ways than i can count. my ex was a form of self-harm and a numbing method, between all the sex i really didn't want but agreed to anyway and the copious amounts of liquor every night and the way i told him about my most fucked up self-hating trauma kinks because i felt like i deserved to be treated like i was subhuman on account of how that's the way i grew up and also the fact that i was knowingly exposing myself to HIV without protection, still in shock the tests came back negative on that last one and more than once i've woken up in a cold sweat to recheck those tests)

- feeling like i'm not allowed to have anything i want unless i pay through the nose for it and like i'm inherently fucking awful (i was raised as a slave, therapist, housemaid, nanny, and caretaker, taught over and over again that i was just there to make others' lives easier, told i was abusing the adults around me anytime i dared to act like a child or be inconvenient. literally was called "slave" in Spanish with a side of mocking laughter for years by the woman who birthed me. the message that i was less than nothing and meant only to satisfy the needs of other people got hammered into me more times than i will ever fully remember. my instincts to protect myself and take care of my needs got shot right through so i'm trying to resurrect them i guess. i was told that i was insensitive and selfish and had too much self-esteem for needing space from my siblings, for having my own personality, for ever saying "no," for feeling any emotions of my own, for expressing myself honestly, for wanting to play with friends of my own. the rest of the mindfuck came when she started acting like she cared to get me to open up and then used what she got out of me to hurt me and others. the whole "some people are born evil" philosophy she had going on that she took out on me. this was exacerbated severely by the whole jail/homelessness ordeal more recently)

- religious trauma (that's a longer list than i can even begin to understand still, but it's showing in my pagan practice the way i fear being a burden or an inconvenience to my gods. i've also been unraveling the new age and mormon philosophies lately and finding them mostly the same, which worries me. no i did not ask to be abused before i came into this life, i do not have to forgive anyone ever at all besides myself in order to heal, i deserve to be loved even if i don't know how to fully love myself, fuck)

[wyrmskulls]

End game spoilers.

Here is what happened for me and how I feel.

I had shit for Charisma as a Monk sooooo I had a rough time with Companions.

1) Wyll broke his contact, we saved his dad, and I made the choice not to go after the Dragon, my thought being- I think we have this without help. let leave the dragon for the next threat. (He was just one line at the docks in the end.... so not sure there. still wanna toss his dad in the harbor ngl)

2) I let Shadowheart make all her own choices. She chose not to kill the Nightsong, she choose for her parents to die. (My partner got her to keep her folks alive in their run.... and that felt better to me. so, oops.) She wasn't at the dock at all in the end weirdly.

3) I always told Karlach to live, I noticed the thing Companions asking for is not the choice they need but the choice they want. So I kept telling her No, bitch you are going to live. Only for her to die on the docks. I at some point started thinking about irl people who want to die thier own way... and I'll admit the thought of begging her to stay instead of just being with her as she died, sounded so selfish to emotional compromised me. (but this still feels really bad)

Those were the 3 of the main 6 not in my party, the whole game. I did pull them into the party for their story's where possible. These 3 had the lowest approvals but they were far from negative.

4)Laezel was hard, she was in my party the whole game but I didn't do the temple/creche by the time I went to go do it, Halsin was threatening to leave the party if we left the Shadowlands. So that all fine, but I really wanted to make it up to her, we got the orphuc hammer but had no way to the prism till the last minute. It was free the prince then or never. We freed him, only for him to get mad we didnt do it sooner. I was like, um, we couldn't break your bonds without the hammer we went to do get. So even your honor gaurd would have failed. Needless to say I was miffed, only to find out we NEEDED an illithad to over power the brain.... and the choice was the prince or me. Sorry bud but it's YOU. So at the end on the dock He gale Laezel his dragon and asked her to free their people and for Tav to kill him. This weird, but again was what laezel said she wanted, in my head such a strong warrior could do worse then becoming the rebel leader, so I let her go. Again it left selfish to ask her to stay while her people suffered, and I was still torn on the asking me to sacrifice Tavs soul for everyone on top of the rest of it.... so not 100% happy here either.

5)Astarion I romanced his ass, and convinced him not only are his siblings and the souls trapped for the ritual like him, but Tav was like them. This felt good at the time... but him running for cover on the docks and everyone being fine with is SUCKED. had a after scene with him, we agreed to look for a way to walk in the light together. it was sweet but my contingency plan was gale annnnd-

6) Gale. I'll admit having an Ex saying kys was like enrageing for me. I was mad, even when Gale wasn't, I was mad cause Gale wasn't. And I held that anger. I think I picked too many 'tell Mystar to fuck herself' options cause that turned quickly into "I want to be a God too" and like, NO Gale. You are a good human, and Gods are NOT people. I like him as people, I would want him or Astarion on a power trip, I like them as they are. So it was upsetting to see Gale continue to be sure he'd take the known for himself. I passed a DC 30 check to try and conive him not to do the thing, only for him on the docks to be like "I'm going fishing for the crown, and I'm disappointed you don't support me" I didn't change my mind.... ((to be fair I've been dressing him in drow camp wear and this

most of act 3.... so I was dressing him for the evil God job he wants the whole time)) I'm the most unhappy about this ending honestly.

yha I could scum save and try to alter it, but I've been trying not to, and this is where I'm at. But now weirdly I'm looking back at Gale and liking him less because of it. He was so helpful in fights and just a joy, but now it feels weirdly like betrayal, like he was pulling an Astarion all along.

I know he wasn't but that's how it feels he feel bad now in a weird way.

that's Mt thoughts firt play through time for a durge run so I can take some more Spoiler tags off lol.

[hyperfixationtimego]

For the talentswap au can you talk about Makoto?? I'm so curious about his clairvoyance! And Chihiro too 👀

OH OH ALSO TOKO/JILL PLEASE

Anyway you always have galaxy brain thoughts feel free to answer whichever ones you like! <3

YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY!!! I have so many thoughts about ALL OF THEM I would LOVE to talk about these mfs

ALSO THANK YOU THAT MEANS A LOT!!! I am so very honored and excited to have people that like my stuff?? eeueueuegege it makes me so happy!!!!!

Okay okay so first things first!!!

Makoto Naegi - the Ultimate Clairvoyant

- He’s always been a little different from others, able to sense just before things go wrong, or guess what someone’s thinking right before they say it. It’s a talent, for certain, but he doesn’t like to think of it that way. To him, it’s just something that makes him weird and different; something he tries to downplay whenever he can. Unfortunately for him but VERY fortunately for us, Hope’s Peak knows exactly how talented he is.

- his important person is still Komaru! They’ve got a typical sibling relationship, teasing and arguing with each other and whatnot, but Makoto wouldn’t trade her for the world. She’s one of the only people in Makoto’s life that he trusts when she tells him that his clairvoyance is what makes him special, not what makes him a freak! She admires him so very much that she’s even tried learning how to read minds on her own! (She always fails, of course, but it means so much to Makoto that Komaru would go to such great lengths to be like him!)

- his secret is still that he wet the bed until fifth grade because honestly it’s just so ridiculous and i couldn’t think of a good replacement. his initial reaction is still “who would ever kill someone over secrets like these?” But his clairvoyance makes him immediately understand that he is in a bit of a different boat than everyone else when it comes to their secrets

- some extra stuff is that he usually figures out who the culprit is either before or during the trial, but never says anything because he’s worried he’s misinterpreting/just flat out wrong

- chapter three is a bitch to me specifically because it involves him recognizing what Leon was trying to do and THEN recognizing that Leon is ACTING all mad and scared and stuff and isn’t really trying to get away with the crime at all. It breaks Makoto’s heart because what the fuck :)

- um um um Celeste usually comes up to him once a body has been discovered and she’s like “yo. who did it” and he just gives her these weird garbled nonsense words that even he doesn’t understand yet but that supposedly point to the killer

Chihiro Fujisaki - the Ultimate Affluent Progeny

- first of all she’s trans because I say so and she’s not ashamed or closeted or anything she’s literally just trans <3

- second of all she is simply a spoiled little rich girl!!! I LOVE HER CHARACTER SO MUCH IN THIS AU ACTUALLY BECAUSE. UNLIKE TOGAMI SHE’S NOT ACTIVELY TRYING TO ANTAGONIZE ANYONE. she is simply like ���I don’t like this game :( we shouldn’t sentence anyone to death because that is like killing them ourselves :( we should all die together and stand up to monokuma :)” what’s actually happening is that she doesn’t quite understand what she’s saying!! It hasn’t quite registered yet that death is actually on the table for everyone, and that’s what makes her carefree attitude abt the voting so dangerous! Especially when she starts getting people on her side!

- her important person is her father!!! She’s Taichi’s special little princess, and he wants the world to know it!! He spoils her rotten and thinks she’s the sweetest thing in the whole world!!

- her secret is that her family business is completely amoral and utilizes slavery and unethical business practices in order to stay ahead of the competition. Because. You know. They’re capitalists.

- just to hammer it home how out of touch with reality she is, she proudly announces this “secret” to the rest of the cast as if it’s not big deal.

- I would like it on record that she is not bad, just very very sheltered. Her heart is good; she genuinely loves and cares about her “friends” and wants to see them succeed, she just doesn’t understand that not everyone thinks the same way she does.

- Togami LOVES HER /p

- like he is just “oh my god this adorable child is telling me to kill myself and everyone else for the sake of one person yes I approve wholeheartedly” WRITING PRODIGY TOGAMI IS A DIPSHIT I LOVE HIM

- he gets so offended whenever Celeste DARES to disagree with Chihiro like he straight up goes into one of those bullet time battle minigames at one point

- Celeste is three seconds away from punting Chihiro across the room at all times btw

- JILL SLAPS HER AT ONE POINT I THINK. I FORGET IF IT’S JILL OR TOKO BUT IT’S ONE OF THEM

Toko Fukawa (& Genocide Jill) - The Ultimate Swimming Pro

- there are other alters but Toko and Jill are the two that front the most. Toko is a host and Jill is a protector

- Toko is the one with the title of ultimate swimming pro, not Jill. Some of the other alters have created fake “ultimates” to call themselves, hence why Jill considers herself the “ultimate murderous fiend.”

- Jill has never murdered anyone, btw. I’ve seen this headcanon before, I’m not sure where, but she was formed when the system saw a news report about a killer named “genocide Jack” when it was very young. Jill went by Jack for a good long while, but she’s actually trans and considers Jack to be her deadname

- I KNOW WE’RE TALKIJG ABOUT THE TALENTSWAP AND NOT GENERAL HEADCSNONS BUT LIKE. I HAVE TO GET THESE OFF MY CHEST

- Jill is just an edgy protector who threatens people as a defense mechanism. She’s loud and brash because she knows it disconcerts people enough to bide time for the system to escape the situation if need be. While she may seem reckless, she actually chooses her words very carefully so as not to escalate a situation beyond what is reasonably within her control.

- OKAY BACK TO SWIMMER TOKO

- so basically. after sustaining the trauma of her childhood, and after the alters have formed (Toko Fukawa is the legal name of the system and also the name of the host) Toko found her passion and safety in swimming. She discovered that it relaxed her and even helped with keeping her grounded a lot of the time! It’s something she tries to do everyday; it’s a coping skill that means a lot to her!!

- toko’s important “person” is still Kameko! She just loves things that other people consider to be “ugly” 🥺 to her, Kameko is one of the prettiest things in the world!!

- the secret is that Toko once poisoned an opponent of hers with laxatives in order to win a swim meet 😶 she does not feel bad about it KSHSMSND

- TOKO AND HINA (ult martial artist) POG!!!! they are fwiends 🥰👉👈

- I REMEMBER NOW

- JILL SLAPS CHIHIRO BECAUSE IT’S A FIGHT OR FLIGHT THING. Chihiro is talking some mad shit and it triggers Jill into fronting. When Jill can’t handle the situation like she normally does, she feels cornered and ends up slapping Fujisaki in the face

[werebutch]

For me, everything really got so much better when I turned 18. There's a bit of an adjustment for the first little bit as you start to learn what it means to be an adult, but it honestly brings good things.

Advice time!

1. Get some kind of storage, and keep all your important documents there. Any tax receipts, passports, proof of employment, ect. When you move, it rules to just open a drawer and have all that stuff ready to go. Obviously also make this a secure storage, if you can

2. Cooking! Even the higher-end dishes can be cheaper than eating out almost anywhere. Provided you don't live in a food desert - those are worth moving to a different city to get out of. If you're completely unknowledgable, refried bean burritos, steamed vegetables, stir fries, and most breakfast food are good ones for people just starting out. I've been cooking since forever, and anyone is always welcome to message and ask for recipies, fyi! Also while you're learning stuff, fixing clothes is a great one to pick up if you have the change. In general, how to fix things is always worth learning if you can.

3. Don't feel like you need to move out just because you're old enough to do it! If your parents are people you like (or don't really mind at least), consider staying with them and focusing on building up finances. If you need to get out, see if you can join a rental group, especially queer-focused ones. It's always cheaper to rent with roommates. Keep in mind that living with other people is a skill that takes time to develop and there will be road bumps.

4. There's a lot of new things to do & try! Hell yes. Don't feel like you need to do any of them, just because they're easier/legal to do. Especially for drugs (including alcohol) and sex (especially kink / risky sex). If you do want to try a new thing, start with a smaller amount. Doing something too much or too intensely can really be a rough experience, and doing something in a small amount will let you get a good feel for it, while keeping your head clear enough to understand what's happening.

5. Fuck rules and manners. Learn how to say no to people, its the best skill to have. Also, learn how to say yes - specifically when you're offered help, or free things, or any act of kindness. If someone is offering something, it's often because they'd legitimately be happy to see you have it.

6. Go thrifting! Buying high quality used clothes, instead of fast fashion, will have a much longer life span. Go to shitty little music shows! Go to dingy diners at 2am! But also take care and joy in taking care of yourself. Self maintenance will seriously make everything else much easier, and getting into the habit early will really help.

7. Whenever you move out, you'll be in a totally different environment, and that's really spooky. The first 3 or 4 nights will likely feel scary, and like you made the wrong decision. Big changes are hard, and leaving the consistency of your home is intimidating. Normally, I always say trust your gut instincts, but this one is usually wrong. Humans are built to survive, and your brain doesn't trust new things. Once you've lived there a week or so, you'll love the place. If you still feel like you shouldn't be living somewhere after 3 weeks or so, you should start looking, if you can afford it. Keeping a good and healing space is serious a #1 priority.

8. You may have been lied to about credit cards. My parents, teachers, and a bunch of people basically hammered home "don't get a credit card or you'll lose all your money". I didn't get one for so long, and I was honestly so proud. But, it was a struggle! Occasionally a place will only accept credit, and it'll suck to be locked out of them. Also, you won't build good credit that way. My recommendation is to get a card that doesn't have any fees (doesn't matter about points or whatever) and just use it for 1 or 2 of your purchases a month, that you know you can easily afford, they really don't need to be big. Pay it off immediately. If you end up taking out any loans, pay them on time! Most people recommend paying the maximum amount off of a loan each month, but as a new adult, it'll be ok if you want to hold onto more of your money, and only pay the minimum each month. That's totally OK, just do it on time! As long as you do this, you'll have really good credit.

9. Own it! You're in control now. For me, the simple little thing of picking out my own hand soaps is something I treasure. It's your life, and it looks like it now! You can get posters, fairy lights, plants, anything! Give your space some personality, make it feel like yours! Note- posters feel a little dingy after a while, even new ones. If you have some you like especially, buy some frames for them, or get them as tapestries. Both feel way fancier and more adult. But posters are cheaper, so you can get way more of them.

10. Once you're out of school, it'll be a bit harder to make friends. The best way to do it is to go to social events, like board game nights, hobby groups, ect. Anything with a shared interest means you'll likely find some people you vibe with. Don't feel like you need a ton of friends! Just a few is fine, you want to make sure they're people you truly like being around, that are good friends to have.

11. Oh shit also get vaccinated before you do any of that social stuff. Also,,, maybe look into health insurance. It's a seriously good investment, (more if you're in USA, in Canada it's not needed quite as much. Dental, on the other hand, is definetly worth getting). If you're on your parents insurance, stay on that for as long as possible! It's free baby!

12. Don't try to become what you thing an adult "needs" to be. It's your life, being an adult can be whatever you want it to look like! And, honestly, the first step of being an adult just looks a lot like being a teenager, just with a bit of change every year or so. Take it slow, and put yourself first.

13. That's it! There's probably a bit more I could put on here, but this feels good. I'm open to questions! If this ends up getting posted, this includes other people too! It's a scary process, but it can be a really good thing, and it has been for so many people I know. Good luck, be safe, have fun!

this is super helpful once I start wanting to move out, but I’m not quite there yet :) thank u tho this rlly helps me prepare lol

[parkersjiggle]

Hi! I'm the one who requested the 'didn't know they were dating fic'. Thank you so much! It was perfect, I really enjoyed it. Can I make another request? Tony thinking Peter has feelings for one of the other Avengers and being jealous. But of course it's him Peter wanted all along.

Hey! I loved that prompt thank you for requesting it! I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten to you before now but I’ve been swamped with uni and I felt super unmotivated to write, but I’m back now! Anyways I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: jealous!Tony, mutual pining, misunderstandings, required unrequited love

—————

Frankly, this was not Tony’s morning. He hadn’t slept in over 40 hours and to make matters worse he had just run out of coffee and forgot to tell Friday to order more. But none of that could explain the bile rising up in his throat or the jealousy coursing through his veins.

The scene unfolding in front of him did though. Stupid Steve’s giggling again, unmanly as it is. His muscles shake and tears stream from his closed eyes. He has a hand plastered on Peter’s shoulder. Tony has to hold his breath, pursing his lips as he watches them from the corner of the room.

He knows what has happened. Peter probably told some joke that honestly wasn’t worth doubling over and bursting into harsh cackles of laughter, but Steve just had to go the extra mile to get Peter’s attention. Tony had been observing things escalate for a while, and the more he noticed, the more it upset him. It started out as most things did, he guessed. Flirty comments, lingering touches, more eye contact than strictly necessary.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Tony won’t have to be here for much longer. Next week he’s off to Hawaii by himself. The brochure looked really good and he couldn’t wait to relax, gather his thoughts and get over this idiotic crush.

It hurt to look, but he couldn’t not look either. He notices Steve telling Peter some lame story about a mission gone wrong. The kid’s face actually lights up brighter than a toothpaste commercial. He has that soft, adoring look on his face that makes Tony want to hurl.

Tony decides to torture himself some more and actually joins them in the living room. Steve whooshes past him as if it’s his house instead of Tony’s and perches himself on Tony’s favorite couch, signaling for Peter to come over. When he does, Steve wraps himself around him closer than food wrap, just as transparent. They’re whispering as if they’re sharing secrets. This time Peter’s the one giggling like he’s three and a half years old.

Tony can’t say anything about it. It would put their friendship at risk, and that’s something he won’t do. Friends like Peter don’t come along too often. Knowing that still doesn’t stop the want to raise his voice with jealous spite and demand Peter to explain why Steve makes him smile like that when it should be Tony.

But, it’s not the kid’s fault. Tony had no claim on Peter. They weren’t anything beyond close friends and Peter could flirt with whomever he wanted. Maybe he had a chance years ago when the hero-worship and excessive admiration still lingered, but he fucked that up too. Peter knew the real him now, flaws and all. Tony’s well aware he pulls with one hand just to push away with the other. He knows he’s doing it right now too, but he still doesn’t stop. He feels like he’s cursed. When he loves it’s too strong, like some God turned his emotion dials up way too far. No one really understands that Tony can only give mixed messages in order to disguise his love, protect his feelings.

He didn’t say anything but his eyes were like daggers stabbing Steve over and over again. He always had to have what Tony wanted too, huh? Tony felt the frustration bubbling up in his chest.

His knuckles turned white from clenching his fist too hard. His teeth gritted from the effort to remain silent, hunched form exuding an animosity that was like acid- burning, slicing, potent. “Something wrong, Stark?” When Steve spoke, Tony mentally snapped, face red with suppressed rage. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you, Rogers? You really love to rub it in, don’t you?” He made the mistake of letting all the frustration build until it inevitably snapped. He knew that he shouldn’t have let it escalate to that point, but logic wasn’t on his side right now. He couldn’t think this through.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve raised his brow questionably. Tony felt the hammering of his heart, its very great attempt to escape his chest. Nothing but hurt and fury ran through his mind right now, “Are you acting stupid or do you actually have a brain the size of a pickled walnut?”

He heard the youngest of them three gasp, almost scandalously. “TONY! You can’t say stuff like that! What’s gotten into you!?” He had the nerve to sound disappointed and angry at the same time. Those feelings quickly ebbed away, however, when he really looked at Tony, and more specifically at his eyes. Which seemed to hold a great deal of pain and had dark bags under them. Peter wondered when he was last able to get some sleep and not just a 45 minute powernap between his lab projects. He paused and sighed. “Are you okay?” The concern and sincerity was clear in his voice. It made Tony want to confess everything and run away at the same time. He let out a shaky breath. “No... I’m not.” He cast his gaze onto the ground and his eyes darkened. He glanced back up at Peter. “Why?” His voice sounded more pained than anything. Steve saw this as the perfect time to excuse himself, fully well aware of how much Tony hated being vulnerable in front of others.

“Why what?” Peter asked softly, following Tony’s gaze that was plastered on Steve walking out. “You mean Steve? Why do you have a problem with him?” Tony chuckled darkly and shook his head, choosing to answer with a question of his own. “How long have you two been dating?” Peter eyed him weirdly, confusion evident on his face. “Dating? We’re not... what do you mean?” Now it was Tony’s turn to look puzzled. “What’s all that giggling and whispering about then? I can’t walk in a room without seeing you two joined at the hip!”

Peter laughed, almost hysterically. “Omg this is golden. This is so good. We’re literally plotting, trying to come up with a plan, to get him and Bucky together! There’s absolutely nothing going on between him and I.” Tony couldn’t help the relaxing of his muscles and the breath of relief that escaped his mouth at those words. “Why do you care? Wait... were you jealous?” Peter leaned in closer, smirking. “So what if I was?” Tony would not back down so easily. “Well I’d say you’re a bit of hypocrite to be honest. One moment I’m important, next minute I’m background at best. What’s making my head spin are the transitions. Stop giving me mixed signals, Tony! Don’t be a coward, tell me how you feel.”

Tony didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the distance between them, kissing Peter short and sweet. “I love you,” he tells him, “I love you. Come to Hawaii with me? How’s that for a signal?”

—————

Send me more prompts loves!! 😊

[tanksforasking]

YOU'RE OUT HERE MAKING MY *LIFE.* Maybe something where tony gets hit during a fight and thinks he's fine but he's actually either concussed or bleeding internally, and after the battle he's all loopy and they (whoever you like lol i'm not picky on this part) think it's adrenaline, then he's cranky and they think it's exhaustion, then he's collapsing and they're like "oh fuck" (PS if you don't like this i can try again!)

OOOIIIIIEEE IT’S PAST 2 AM AND I HAVE WORK TOMORROW.  I AM AN IDIOT.  Anyhoo, this one is for you and that adorable prompt @taylortut!  Idk if this is exactly what you wanted, but I gave it my best shot!  (Also plz tell me if I missed any grammar stuff or if something just straight up doesn’t make sense cause my eyes are too tired to catch everything rn.  Also Also this will be cross-posted to AO3 and FFN).  Enjoy!  

                                               Word Count: 1391

Tony certainly was by no means unfamiliar with crash-landings.  It could be said that they had become somewhat of an occupational hazard for him.  But, unlike most things he seemed to encounter in his line of work, crashes always seemed a lot scarier then they actually were.  Once the initial shock wore off, he could usually just pick himself up, dust himself off, and get right back into the fight.  Rarely was one of his unfortunate meetings with the pavement or the side of a building something that actually caused any severe ramifications.  

Key word being rarely.  

It had been a typical downtown scuffle for the Avengers.  Another lunatic that happened to get access to weapons way beyond their pay grade and used them to wreak absolute havoc on the basis of some half-baked ideology and a superiority complex.  By all means, it should’ve been an easy takedown.  

And it almost was.  

Unfortunately, said psycho happened to pack one Hell of a punch, and just before Sam came in for the final, aerial takedown, the jerk managed to land one last, lucky hit...  

Right to the back of Tony’s head.  

The next few moments seemed to defy time itself.  The moment the criminal’s armored fist made contact with the back of his helmet, Tony felt a brief sensation of exploding pain travel across his skull, followed by total, encompassing darkness.  When he did come to again, it was just in time to see a cement wall inches away from his face, the distance between he and it closing rapidly.  The pain from the impact could barely be distinguished from the lingering ache of the initial strike, the cries of his worried teammates through the coms only aggravating his condition.  

Rhodey’s voice was the first he could truly register throughout the cacophony.  “Tony, you still with us, man?”  

Tony grunted, shifting under the light rubble that now covered him.  Despite the natural aching in his head that would come after such a blow, he couldn’t detect any major bodily damage.  Unfortunately, after several tries, he was unable to activate FRIDAY to confirm his theory, the AI system most likely having been damaged in the crash.  It was something he made a mental note to check on later.  

“Yeah, Rhodes, I’m here.  Did Sam take down crazy?” he finally answered, steeling himself to get back up and fight if needed.  

The sigh of relief on the other end was nearly tangible.  “You have us worried for a moment there, Tones,” he chuckled, “and yeah.  Sam’s got him detained and DODC’s already on their way to clean out his warehouse.  We’re all done here.  How are you?”  

Tony mentally scanned himself again.  Admittedly, it was difficult to tell if anything was out of place with the throbbing of his head overwhelming almost every other sensation, but nothing seemed to be horrendously wrong, so he diagnosed himself as fine and began to dust the rubble off.  “All good, just gotta dig myself out a bit.”  In the distance, Tony could hear sirens, confirming for him that first responders were almost on the scene and their job was done.  

Rhodey’s voice crackled through the coms again.  “We sent your Spider-kid your way just a moment ago.  You should have some help getting you out of there pretty soon.”

Tony sighed, offered a quick thanks and surveyed his surroundings once more.  The dust was clearing, and it seemed like it would be fairly easy to get out on his own.  Still, with the lingering dizziness that wasn’t seeming to lighten up with time, he wasn’t going to turn away the extra help.  Who were they sending again to him again?  Was it Sam?  

Before he could recall, his question was answered by the overly-cheerful shouts of Peter Parker as he approached.  

“Hey, Mr. Stark!”  Peter’s voice seemed to reverberate through Tony’s brain, leaving his ears ringing.  Or had they been ringing before?  He honestly couldn’t remember.  “Ya good down there, sir?  Mr. Rhodes sent me to come get you outta here!”  Peter called out again as Tony winced, struggling to comprehend exactly what the kid was saying through the pressure in his skull.  God his head was pounding.  Was it normal for the pain to last this long?  He felt like it wasn’t.  

“Hey kid…” he mustered up the strength to speak, but even so, his words came out slightly slurred. “Couldja maybe use your inside voice?  My head’s still a bit on the tender side right now.”

“Oh, yeah!  Right!” the younger of the two replied in a sort of loud whisper.  “Sorry!  I uh… think I just gotta move this one last block and then you’ll be good to go!”  

“Thanks kid...” Tony grunted before letting his eyes fall closed, the inky blackness being the only measure of relief from the pain he could find.  

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard Peter calling his name once again.  

“Mr. Stark?  Mr. Stark!  You can get up now!  I cleared a path for you!”  Peter’s loud whispers echoed in his ears again, every harsh syllable feeling like a hammer against his frontal lobe.  

Tony groaned, moving to stand before he was pulled back down in a wave of dizziness.  His vision was swimming and everything was fuzzy.  Who was talking again?  Why was it so loud?  

Getting unsteadily to his feet once more, he stumbled blindly forwards, trying to grasp onto something, anything to steady him.  

He soon felt some slight support, as if someone was grabbing his wrists and trying to hold him upright.  

“Woah… Mr. Stark, maybe you should sit down…?”  a quiet, worried, and high-pitched voice rang out in front of him.  

Peter.  That voice was Peter.  Peter was the one holding him up right now.  He sounded worried.  He was worried… about him?  What had happened?  

Oh… yeah.  The crash.  That would at least explain the pounding in his head.  

He needed to keep Peter calm.  After that, he just needed to get back to the compound and sleep the rest of it off.  Then everything would be okay.  

“No, it’s fine, I’m just - ”

Peter cut him off before he could finish a proper excuse.  “Mr. Stark, lift up your mask for a sec?”

Perhaps against his better judgement, Tony obliged, squinting and blinking as the now unfettered sunlight hit his sore eyes.  Everything was out of focus and the world felt like it was spinning.  But, through the fog, he could still hear Peter’s voice of concern.  

“Woah your pupils are like, totally uneven.  I’m pretty sure you got a concussion, sir.”

Tony mumbled out a half-hearted rejection, not having the strength to fully refute what was so obviously true.  Hell, all really cared about at the moment was the hope that the world would stop spinning.  

“You’re showing all the symptoms.  We learn about this stuff in health class, ya know.”  Peter chuckled slightly, obviously trying to make light of what was probably an uncomfortable situation for him.  “Why don’t we get Mr. Rhodes to take you back to the compound and get you an appointment with medical, eh?”  Peter’s awkward laughs continued as he wrapped his arm around Tony’s middle and guided him out of the surrounding rubble, com already activated.  “Mr. Rhodes, we’re gonna need an evac over here.  Mr. Stark probably… well, more like definitely’s got a concussion.  Probably not the best idea to have him flying back on his own like this.”  

Tony was vaguely aware of some affirmative banter between the two before he decided to object.  

“Alright, alright kid.  No need for any of that.  I can make it back on my own.”  He figured his argument would have been a lot more convincing had he not nearly tripped and fell as he finished the thought.  

Peter smiled a bit, obviously trying not to laugh before setting his features again in what seemed to be an attempt to appear stern.  “Uh-uh, sorry Mr. Stark, but you wouldn’t let me do this on my own, and I’m not letting you!”  

Tony couldn’t help but smile as the boy’s grip noticeably tightened around his waist.  Later, he’d blame the sentimentality on the concussion, but deep down, he knew that he had a good kid.  

“Dang it, kid.  Stop making such great points.”

[firstofficers-log]

burnin’ up

Pairing: Joseph Christiansen/Reader

Words:  1676

Summary: Joseph keeps inviting you over to help with baking for events. You're not one to turn down cookies, and you're definitely not one to turn down the company of a very attractive blond dad.

Author’s note: we need more Soft Joseph in this world. if you have requests for that good good soft Joseph content lmk

Every time you finished helping Joseph bake for some kind of event, you told yourself it would be the last time. There were far too many variables for you to take into account; children around you, your mediocre baking skills, Joseph's stupidly clear blue eyes --

The same eyes that had convinced you to go against your promise to yourself for what seems like the millionth time. Curse those eyes. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

It was so much easier talking to Joseph over DadBook in situations like these. While he could be awfully persuasive, he couldn't very well use his (dumb, ridiculous, stunning) puppy-dog eyes on you over a text chat. Though, you reason, you wouldn't put it past him to send a video of him asking you to help out.

Either way, you now stand in Joseph's kitchen, cursing yourself and cursing him for convincing you to bake with him again. Today, you were making various types of cookies -- something about some kind of party that's going on, you think you remember. Joseph had so many things going on recently that you were ashamed to say you hadn't really been keeping up.

"Could you pass me the flour, please?" Joseph asks, saying a quick thank you once you complied. He measures and levels it before dumping it into a sieve and shaking it into an empty bowl. Baking is wild.

After almost adding salt instead of sugar, you were put on cookie-scooping duty. Joseph had shown you how to take an ice-cream scoop to make perfectly portioned cookies. You're not sure why he had to show you how to use an ice cream scoop, but words wouldn't leave your mouth when his hand enveloped yours.

Without prompting, you handed Joseph a clean whisk after he'd added all of the dry ingredients to one bowl. He beamed at you and you swear you were almost blinded at the whiteness of his teeth.

"See?" Joseph said, chuckling wryly. "You are learning!"

"Sure," you say, rolling your eyes at him. "I mean, watching you bake twice a week has to have at least some effect, right?"

You expect Joseph to laugh, but instead, his smile turns nervous as he mutters a reply and turns back to his bowls. Is he… blushing?

You don't have time to assess the situation further because the timer on the microwave goes off and begins assaulting your ears.

"All right, all right," you say to the appliance, trying several times to find the 'off' switch. Once you succeed, you nod and turn to take the cookies out of the oven.

You arm yourself with Joseph's Darth Vader oven mitts (which you strongly suspect had something to do with Chris) and move to pull out the tray.

However, you make a wrong move and manage to bump the tray against the inside of your forearm, instantly leaving a nasty red mark.

"OH SHHHHH……Sugar cookies!" You shout, remembering just in time that there were, in fact, children in your vicinity. Joseph looks shocked and quickly stops mixing ingredients to see what's wrong.

"Hold on, it'll be okay," Joseph says in his Dad Voice™. He helps you place the tray out of harm's way and closes the oven door before leading you to the sink. You're grateful for his initiative because the only thing going on in your brain at the moment is something along the lines of fuckfuckfUCKFUCKFUCK OW OW OW OW

While you run your arm under the coldest water available, Joseph swiftly walks to another part of the kitchen. You hear him cut something, and before you can ask what he's doing, he's back by your side with a large Aloe leaf.

"Come on, sit down," he tells you calmly. As soon as you remove your arm from the stream of water, it burns again, but you try to suck it up until Joseph can help. You sit on one of the stools next to the island in the kitchen and offer your arm.

Joseph cuts the leaf open lengthwise and immediately presses it against your skin, making sure the entire burn is covered. You sigh audibly, grateful for the cooling gel. Joseph seems more upset than you are. He runs his free hand through his hair.

"Goodness, I didn't mean for you to get hurt! I wouldn't have made up--" Joseph actually slaps a hand over his mouth at his own words, but the damage had been done. His eyes were wide, his free hand still pressing the cool aloe into your arm.

Your eyebrows shot up. "Made up?" You pondered this for a few moments, realizing that it hadn't just been your poor memory that had made you forget Joseph's reasoning. He'd almost seemed... vague in his invitation. In fact, you’re now noticing that it’s actually rather strange that there seemed to be an event every two weeks that necessitated some form of baked good. You wonder why you didn’t notice it before.

"Joseph, did you make up a party to get me to bake with you?" This comes out as more of a statement than a question, but Joseph still nods hesitantly. His face is red now, and he’s not able to look at you directly.

Huh. You're more surprised than anything. And also trying to stop your heart from beating so quickly, because from where his hand is placed, Joseph can probably feel your pulse. Which is more than a little embarrassing.

"I want to be angry," you admit after a few moments of silence. "But honestly, I'm… sort of flattered? I mean, what happened to lying being a sin?" You grin at him and you can see the tension drain from Joseph's shoulders.

He looks at you sheepishly, his hair mussed, and you’re trying so hard to think of anything besides smoothing it down for him. “I wish I could say I had good intentions,” Joseph murmurs, not quite meeting your eyes. “I have to admit that I was being… selfish.”

Any and all traces of anger are gone, now. You feel bad that Joseph looks so… guilty. It wasn’t as though you didn’t have selfish reasons for helping out, too.

“Aw, Joseph,” you say, and he actually looks at you now, the full force of his sad eyes actually hitting you. “I was just kidding. I wouldn’t have helped if I didn’t want to.” This isn’t entirely true, but you have to admit that you’ve had fun every time you’d come to Joseph’s home.

You ponder a moment before continuing. “But if you wanted to hang out, you really didn’t have to keep making stuff up. I love spending time with you.” Whoops. So maybe that had come out a bit more sappy than you’d intended. It seemed to do the trick, though, because Joseph’s blinding smile returned and he gave you a hug. An awkward hug, because of the burn-and-aloe situation between the two of you, but still a hug. You could smell his stupidly wonderful smelling hair and tried not to linger.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that,” Joseph says, pulling away. He seems embarrassed again. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep this up much longer.”

You laugh, and Joseph’s smile grows wider. “I’m not sure how I didn’t notice,” you admit, looking to the not-quite-finished cookies now sitting on the stove-top. “I guess… I guess I wanted an excuse to hang out with you, too.”

You expect for Joseph to laugh, or even for him to hug you again, but instead, he blushes and smiles shyly before looking down. You sit in companionable silence for a few more moments before Joseph pulls the aloe away from your burn.

“Does it feel any better?” He asks you, discarding the used plant in a compost bin. To your surprise, it does. You nod and Joseph smiles before turning to one of his cabinets.

“That’s good. I’m going to put some of this on it,” he holds out a tube to you, “and then bandage it up and you should be right as rain in no time!”

You give Joseph two thumbs up. “Thanks for taking care of me. I guess I’m not getting any better at baking, huh?”

Joseph laughs and sits back down next to you after gathering his supplies. Unsurprisingly, he had a kitchen with a well-stocked emergency kit. You’d expect nothing less from a man with four kids.

“Not with that attitude, you’re not.” He winks at you. “Maybe we should have more baking lessons. Once a week.”

You groan dramatically. “I never want to see another cookie sheet for as long as I live.”

Joseph chuckles and wipes down your arm with a cold cloth. He hesitates before putting the burn cream stuff on it, though. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when he lowers his lips to your arm and delicately kisses the pink mark. You can hardly feel it, but it’s definitely enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. You’re absolutely certain that you’re blushing like a teenager right now.

Joseph lifts his head, his own cheeks pink. “There,” he says after clearing his throat. “Now it’ll heal even faster.” He smiles and reaches for the tube, continuing his work as though nothing had happened and that this was a totally normal occurrence.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, and you felt like a kid, but holy shit he kissed my boo-boo what a nerd.

“You’re a dork,” you tell him despite your nerves. At this, Joseph laughs heartily, somehow managing to keep his hands steady.

“I’m not the one who burned myself on a cookie sheet,” he counters, finally finishing with your bandage. It has Hello Kitty on it.

“Touché,” you say, finally getting up from your spot. “I should probably actually help you finish baking now, huh?” The two of you spend the rest of the day actually baking, and trying to figure out what the hell you’re going to do with all of these Goddamn cookies.

[danfanciesphil]

I'm so excited you're doing prompts!! Okay, here's one: could you write some fluffy morning just waking up thing?

one fluffy morning just waking up drabble coming your way beautiful

ps it’s 00:39am and i’ve had multiple glasses of wine so im sorry if this is strange xoxo

The first night had been the hardest, in his dorm room. 

Dan had thought he could handle a lot. He’s young, he doesn’t come from a particularly wealthy background, and he isn’t used to luxury. His room at the Manchester University halls lacked a certain appeal when he first saw it, but it was fine, he’d thought. The stark, pale brick of the walls could be covered with posters and artwork. The hard, unforgiving mattress could be quilted and softened with layers of blankets and pillows. 

It would be fine.

But building a home in a new place takes time, Dan has come to realise. When one moves into a new place, they don’t necessarily have everything they need to make it theirs. They wish they had a particular knick knack, a certain accessory, a specific chair from their old room, or a new lamp with a soft, yellow bulb to illuminate the dull, dark atmosphere. 

An exhausting day of meeting his neighbours, of trekking around campus, of plastering on a cheery smile passes. Dan collapses into his bed, the new bedding that he’s bought for himself seeming starchy and unyielding against the soft curves of his body. 

Despite his brain telling him not to, all his body yearns for is his tiny, unappealing yet familiar bedroom back in Wokingham. His brother is sleeping in it now, Dan thinks uncomfortably, his cheek scratching against the stiff, cold pillowcase. 

He texts Phil every night for a week. He begs to come over, to visit Phil at his new flat, over on the other side of Manchester. He’s so close, and so far. He’s a hundred miles nearer than he used to be. He’s in the same city, yet he’s too far to walk to, not that Dan knows where to go. The thought alone is enough to drive him mad. 

Phil is adamant, though. 

He insists that Dan have a week alone. He won’t give out his address, no matter how much Dan begs him. Dan finds him capricious, cruel, sadistic for this. Phil says it’s for his own good, and that Dan will hate him even more if Phil steals that first precious week of university from him. 

Dan doesn’t care. He hates Phil anyway. All he wants is to see him. He doesn’t care about anyone else. 

A week seems to take eons. It seems to drag, like a dying star, fading slowly as Dan weakens in his resolve. He thinks of jumping into taxis and scouring the streets of Manchester, shouting Phil’s name. He thinks of feigning grave illness, or some drastic emergency, knowing Phil will come running. 

He goes out in the evenings. He attends Freshers week events with his flatmates and makes some sort-of friends. He enrols properly, handing over his passport to a bored looking PHD student, and is given a library card. None of it matters at all. None of it is the slightest bit important. 

Finally, finally, Friday becomes Saturday. Dan doesn’t sleep until Sunday, staying out all of Saturday night at a party of some kind. He smokes three cigarettes, and he almost kisses a girl. He can’t do it though, even if he is pissed off. 

He throws some clothes into a bag the minute he returns home, at six in the morning on Sunday. He phones Phil, shoving his charger into his pocket. Phil answers, but he sounds bleary, confused. 

“Dan?” 

“I’m coming over.” 

“What?” 

“Tell me your address.” 

“Dan, it’s...” There’s a pause. “It’s half six in the morning.” 

“So I’ll be there at seven.” 

Dan waits, practically shaking as he hovers beside his bed, ready to leave the second Phil tells him it’s okay. He can’t stand this room a second longer, suddenly. It’s prison-esque, with it’s grey, brick walls, and its single, smeared window. 

“74, Simmons Street.” 

Dan wants to weep, suddenly. He feels tears scalding his eyes, and he brings a fist up to scrub them away. He could fall to his knees with relief, but he forces himself to remain standing. 

“Okay.” Dan tells him, his voice only half audible. “See you soon.”

“See you.” 

The whole ride over, Dan is terrified. He chews every nail off every finger, ripping some so harshly with his teeth that they smart and bleed. What if Phil doesn’t want him to come? What if that’s the real reason he hadn’t let on where he lived before now? 

It doesn’t take long, though. Dan is shocked, really, at how little time it takes to cross the city. It seems like a moment passes, and then he’s outside Phil’s building, the taxi driver idling impatiently, waiting for him to leave. 

“Thanks.” Dan says, shoving a twenty pound note at the driver. 

He gets out before he can accept any change. He’s almost definitely overpaid, but he doesn’t care. This is worth every penny. 

He has to press a buzzer for Phil’s flat. There’s a small camera, so Phil must know it’s him when he presses to let Dan inside. 

Dan takes the elevator. It’s early, and he has a bag. He doesn’t feel he could face the stairs. 

Phil is flat 42A. Dan finds it without issue. 

He knocks on the outside, wary of the neighbouring flats at this early hour, and waits, clutching his backpack to his chest, heart hammering against his ribs. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, when Phil opens the door. 

It turns out, he doesn’t need to say anything at all. 

Phil drags him inside without a word, and all of a sudden the world is gone from sight. Phil’s arms encircle Dan’s body, cradling him in their protective embrace, shielding him from the air itself. 

The door slams shut behind them, but Phil doesn’t seem to care. He pushes his lips to the top of Dan’s head, mumbling things into his scalp, words that Dan can’t decipher. 

It sounds a lot like ‘you’re here, you’re here, you’re here’. 

Phil walks him through a maze of rooms that Dan can’t take in. His eyes are trained on Phil’s face, which is just, exactly, how he remembers it. It’s pale and serene, framed with black hair and black lashes, hiding the deepest blue eyes Dan can remember seeing in all his life. 

They’re in a smaller room now, a darker room. It’s warm here, lit by a single lamp. Phil pulls Dan onto something soft and pliant, a bed with a quilt of blue and green, familiar and comforting. Dan crawls beneath it at once, bringing the covers to his chin. 

Phil’s arms wrap around him, holding tightly, pulling him in to a lean, warm chest. This feels nothing like the adrift, isolated island of Dan’s bed in the dorm. In fact, it is worrying, how he feels so completely at home. 

“Can you sleep?” Phil asks, his voice so soft it might be a whisper. 

Dan nods, tucking his nose beneath Phil’s chin. 

He feels the gentle rumble of Phil’s throaty chuckle, and breathes in, contented. 

“Night, bear.”

*

Dan wakes up to a view obscured by black fronds. Phil’s hair seems to be everywhere - tickling his nose, poking into his eyes, fanning over his cheeks. 

Dan breathes in, drawing the scent of him as deeply as possible. It feels like it’s been forever since he last smelled it. Sharp, sweet notes. Like chilli infused hot chocolate, or a glacé cherry encased in dark cocoa. 

“Phil?” Dan whispers, not really wanting to wake him. 

“Mm?”

Dan smiles, the fondness tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can we have pancakes?”

It takes a while, but apparently the mention of Phil’s second favourite breakfast food is enough to stir him into wakefulness. He blinks his eyes open slowly, registering the sight of Dan with mild confusion, probably not helped by his lack of contact lenses or glasses. 

“Pancakes?”

Dan nods. “I’ll make them if you like. But... you might have to tell me where everything is in your kitchen.”

Phil’s eyebrows knit together, and he leans away, frowning. “You’re in my bed.” 

Stomach churning with nerves, Dan decides to attempt a diversion tactic. He lifts one eyebrow, smirking. “Right where I belong.” 

“You should be in your dorm.” Phil chastises, sighing heavily; Dan’s heart sinks. 

“I tried it, Phil. I did it for a whole week, like you said.” Dan tells him honestly, hoping desperately that he won’t sound too pathetic to Phil’s ears. Maybe Phil will take pity on him for being so weak. “I missed you too much.” 

Phil leans closer, eyes roving over Dan’s face. “I missed you too.”

“You did?”

Phil nods, seeming displeased at the admittance. “I tried not to. I tried to tell myself to leave you alone. To let you have your fun. But I missed you.” Phil leans in close, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of Dan’s nose. “Lots.”

Dan tries and fails to hide his answering blush. He wishes he could feel guilt, like Phil seems to, but he’s too happy. He’s elated, just by being here, beside the one person he loves most of all, after what seems like years. 

“You live so close now,” Dan tells him, marvelling at this prospect, still. “I just got in a car and came here. It took fifteen minutes, tops.”

Phil’s eyes widen, clearly astounded as well. “Fifteen?”

“It used to take...” 

“Hours.” Phil finishes. “Days.”

“We don’t need to miss each other anymore.” Dan says cautiously, heart thumping irregularly, trying to predict what Phil will say. If he objects, Dan worries that the thumping might cut out completely. “I can be with you whenever you want.” 

Dan surveys him in the face of this final comment, trying to suss out his reaction, to deem if he’ll find this too much. 

He and Phil have said a lot to one another, over the months they’ve known each other in person. They’ve exchanged confessions of love, they’ve discussed plans for the future, for holidays and forever homes and marriage. But to discuss something in theory is very different to putting it into practice, Dan knows. 

It’s a very real possibility that Phil might back out, now that this is all snowballing towards a very real future. 

“Always.” Phil says, catching Dan off guard. 

A second passes, and then Phil’s lips crash against his, as sure and definite as waves upon the shore. He kisses so hard that Dan has trouble staying present, tempted to fall into the moment and maybe never be able to crawl out of it. 

Phil leans away again, and he is smiling. His hands are on Dan’s waist, and his eyes are crinkled at each corner. Dan’s heart slows, skipping a beat. 

“Always,” Phil repeats.