#oh well i’ll still draw smthng

[serialbxwl]

I MISSED BILL AND TED DAY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[alex-ruins-everything]

Turning Pages - Chapter 2

Intrulogical bookshop au! Read the whole thing on ao3 here. 

Remus had walked by the bookshop at least three times before finding it. All because Roman’s dumb car broke down he was stuck carting his brother around. Eventually he did spot the shop Roman had gone off to (to annoy poor old Virgil of course, because bothering your boyfriend at work was peak romance, right?). It was a wooden storefront and a bell tingled as he opened the door, looking around as he was hit with that immediate paper smell. God no way that was just coming from the books, they had to have a candle or some shit lit somewhere. He glanced around, looking for his brother, but his eyes landed on someone much better. That man behind the counter was hot in a way Remus didn’t usually notice but goddamn, he was noticing now. His eyes lingered for a second before he raised his voice.

“Roman! If you don’t quit making out with Virgil against a bookshelf I’m gonna leave your ass here!” he said, shooting an annoying smile at his brother when he finally showed himself.

He looked around while Roman paid, not finding too much interesting until he joined him by the counter, taking another look at the man there. He was almost sure the guy’s name tag had been printed but nope...it was just painstakingly neat handwriting. Logan. Well, the face had a name.

“Nice to meet you, Specs,” he winked after Roman introduced him. “Now c’mon. If I don’t get to chase geese I’m throwing you in the pond.”

Roman bid the bookshop guy bye bye and finally they were back into the sweltering heat. Remus had commented earlier that if he had the chance he would 100% kick the Sun’s ass for making it so hot. And he stood by that. The two of them finished their day and Remus got to chase his geese like he wanted - until the geese started chasing him and then they went home. He couldn’t get that bookshop guy out of his head though for the rest of the day. Or the next day. Eventually he had to ask Roman what he knew.

“So, that bookshop dork. Specs,” he said, leaning against the doorframe of Roman’s bedroom. His brother was sitting on his bed with a sketchbook in his lap shooting him a questioning look.

“What about him?”

Remus took that as indication enough and he entered, sitting in Roman’s desk chair with a spin. “What do you know about him?”

“Logan? He’s a total stiff,” Roman laughed lightly. “Why do you care?”

“Hey, am I not allowed to be intrigued by people?”

“Not the way you get ‘intrigued’, no. Re, Logan won’t go for you. Hell, I’m pretty sure he only has eyes for that bookshop and the occasional biography,” Roman stated, adding a few more lines to his drawing.

“Once again, I am not lusting over a nerd who wants to fuck his books. I was just asking!” Remus said, putting his hands up in faux surrender before getting up. “At least I don’t spend my days there following the emo around like a lost puppy!”

And with that he slipped out of Roman’s room, laughing as shouts of protest followed him. Days passed and Remus went about his life until Saturday when he found himself at the thrift store that was right down the street from that bookshop. Well, surely it wouldn’t go hurt to visit. Right? He could have played it off as visiting Virgil, but Virgil didn’t work weekends so he was most likely back at Remus’ house with Roman. He got his excuse though when he reached the shop, a sign out front advertising that Patton’s Reading Circle was happening in about ten minutes. Ah, fate had given him impeccable timing today.

Remus pushed the door to the bookshop open, that same bell tingling. It wasn’t hard to spot where the book reading was going on. It was where the crowd of little kids and their tired looking parents were gathered. However he was keeping an eye out for a different spectacled bookshop employee. Logan wasn’t anywhere in eyesight though as Remus took a seat by the circle, figuring he had some time to kill anyway. Might as well learn why you shouldn’t give a mouse a cookie or whatever. He took a seat on the carpet with all the kids, blatantly ignoring the odd looks the parents gave him. He did accept the fruit snack offered by the kid next to him, leaning back on his hands as some guy in glasses came out holding a book and said hi to everyone. Remus figured that must be Patton. He looked like a total dork, but in a different way than the nerd Remus had come to see. His book reading wasn’t too shabby either, though it was far too vanilla for Remus’ taste. It ended and he clapped along with the kids, not moving from the carpet for a bit as kids joined their parents and either left or went to roam around the bookshop. It was a lot busier than the weekday Remus had been here before.

Eventually he stood up, going to a display and flipping through the book Patton had just read. It was very convincing that you should under no circumstances give a mouse a cookie. Remus’ attention fell away from that as he spotted a book on marine biology, leaving the cookie book on the display in a haphazard way. He picked up the marine book, flipping through. It had scientific illustrations...his favorite kind. It was like a grown up picture book!

“Can I help you find anything?” a familiar voice asked and when he looked up from his book there Logan was. Still as handsome as the day he saw him. “Oh, ah...Remus. Hello.”

“Howdy, Specs,” Remus grinned, happy this trip hadn’t been for naught. “How’s it going?”

“I’m quite adequate, thank you for asking,” Logan replied, his eyes glancing to the book in Remus’ hand. “That’s an excellent resource, it goes quite in depth on the flora and fauna of the bottom of the sea. Though personally I find all of that unsettling. If marine life is your thing we have lots of books on it.”

Remus almost could have laughed at that. Ah, such a salesman. He noticed Logan had a different tie on today, though it was still in shades of blue, this time a neat dot pattern instead of stripes.

“Maybe next time you’ll have to show me. I think for now I’ll just take this one since it's apparently an excellent resource,” he said, shutting the book. “I was also wondering if I could take you out for some coffee maybe. What time’s your break? I can hang around.”

Logan opened his mouth and closed it again before adjusting his glasses. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Kingsley, however I have already had my break so I will have to pass. If you’re all set I can ring you up?”

“Yeah, I guess just the book then,” Remus shrugged, slightly shocked by being turned down, but not too discouraged.

As Logan was ringing him up, he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, a text arriving from ‘Two Face’.

‘You coming today or no?’

Remus typed out a quick reply, watching Logan stick his book in a paper bag after sticking a bookmark between the pages for him.

‘Fnnshng smthng up, b thr soon. You want cffe? Usal?’

His texting was headache inducingly hard to decipher sometimes, but those close enough to get lots of texts from him had figured it out already. He got the buzz and the ‘yes’ as a reply, sliding a twenty over to Logan as payment. He stuck the change in the near empty jar on the counter that read Employee Book Fund with a smiley face under it.

“Thanks for the book, Specs. I’ll be sure to let you know how I like it,” Remus promised, gripping the paper bag in a fist. “Have a good one.”

“Goodbye, Remus,” Logan bid him farewell, motioning for the next guest in line to come forward.

Remus was off to the coffee shop first, getting the two drink orders before heading over to Janus’ house. Oh he had tea...and not just the kind he had just gotten from the coffee shop (because of course Janny drank tea). No, he had to gush all about this bookstore boy that he definitely had a crush on at this point.

TAGLIST:

@theiwatobiicepic

[franeridart]

Anon said: Hi, i’m not trying to be a jerk, but i notice that you tend to write strengHT instead of strengTH. I thought i should point that out so in the future you can avoid these mistakes and your great art can be even better

I’ll try my best to remember that this time around, but to be fair I couldn’t manage it twelve years ago when I was being graded for my english spelling, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget about which way is right in two seconds flat now that there’s no good reason why I should be careful about what I write :D as an italian person, it just makes no sense in my brain that the h wouldn’t go after the g. That just how it be.

Anon said: You made me fall in love with your art style. I just... asdpljzdfsz. I dunno. I look so forward every time I see it. Reminds me that there's still brightness in this dark world. *cough corny I know* But please. Keep doing what you do. And thank you for sharing this with us.

Ah gosh anon thank you so so much!!!! That’s so sweet of you oh my god T^T<3

Anon said: Is that Vampire!Kiri and Werewolf!Bakugou or something similar??

dragon!Kiri+werewolf!Baku :D

Anon said: Quick question about Akane’s powers if that’s ok! Do her powers work on things that weren’t originally red? Like Kirishima’s hair, for example; things that have been dyed red but didn’t start out that way. Idk, this might be a super niche question, but I was wondering! Your Baku!Daughter is adorable though, I love her and him and all of your KiriBaku thank you so much for sharing your talent!!!

I’ve drawn her more than once messing up Kiri’s hair, so yes, she can move Kiri’s hair too! to be fair if her power only allowed her to move stuff that’s, like, naturally red? she wouldn’t be able to move much of anything at all lmao

Anon said: Sorry if i’m missing smthng but have you ever drawn Camie?

I have, like, once? In the middle of a bunch of Bakus I drew after that one chapter where he laughed and killed me, man I love Bakugou so much

Anon said: Did you ever think of the bakusquad as a poly relationship?

Yep! It’s valid but I’m not into that

Anon said: Saw your recent asks and don't be hard on yourself! Horikoshi's Bakugou is actually not that complex, but you have put him in... hundreds? of scenarios by now, and some are really moving and sweet. Yours feels like he's part of a universe rather than its center (regardless of what he believes :-P), which makes for very fun interactions!

Aw anon please don’t come in my inbox and say that my favorite character isn’t as deep as I think he is, I know you probably mean well but all you’re managing is making it very hard for me to refrain from writing the longest eassey on why Bakugou is the best character ever and why I feel like you’re missing 90% of his personality when you come at me and tell me the fact that I make him in love gives him more depth than all the endless amount of emotions and situations Horikoshi has put him through

I’m not being hard on myself!!! I just love him!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said: Have you ever drawn Fatgum? I tried searching on your blog, but nothing came up, but that could be the *brilliance* of tumblr. If not, do you think you might, sometime? I am convinced he'd look so cute, in your style! What could be better than my fave artist drawing one of my fave characters? Anywho, whether you do or not, I still adore your art, and look forward to your posts. Take care, play safe, and stay MAGICAL! ✌💜

I have! Pretty sure he’s in my tagged/fatgum! And thank you!!

Anon said: when you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite accounts (non-negotiable, positivity is cool!!)🌻 Passing on the ask, ily!

Awww thank you! Five things five things five things.......................... I like my hair? I like myyyyyyyy hands! I like that I know how to fix things! I like that it’s easy for me to solve puzzles! I like that I managed to learn how to draw comics!!! Comics are great I should draw a new one

Anon said: I recently sent in a question (wasn’t a question just me fangirling) but omg I cannot stress how much your art brightens my day and inspires me to keep working on my own art so yeah (I’m sorry I feel like this is spam)

Absolutely not spam!!! thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (TT^TT)<3<3

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 14

IN THIS EPISODE OF THE OFFAL HUNT LIVEBLOG:

On the other end of the line, Cinder let out a tight sigh. “Yeah. Okay, well—I’m in a difficult position right now. I’m balancing a lot. So, that wasn’t, you know, directed at you or whatever… I’m just trying to deliver you to Atlas. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” Glynda said. “This apology sucks.”

CINDER FALL TRIES TO HAVE MANNERS. AND FAILS. BUT SHE TRIES.

it’s been a WHILE but i’m STILL HERE!!!!!!!!! also i’m a little late to the draw and also unlike w/ prior chaps i did actually read this one when it came out so i’ve had my first run already. BUT that means i actually get 2 Focus so lets get this party started

so we’re now entering into the New Umbraroot Arc which Frightens me on a deep and intrinsic scale because now i have no padding to ready me for whatever the Hell is going to occur, but i do know it will be gay(er) than the current content was (is/shall be) and here’s the proof

It had only been a day, but the sound of Cinder’s voice was a relief to Glynda’s senses.

glynda that’s gay. hey. hey. glynda have u been told yr a lesbian. lesbeeb. besbion--

“Not at all.” Thank god. It was one thing to be traveling with Cinder Fall. It was entirely another to have her checking in on Glynda’s well-being.

cinder: my well-being is SHIT but thankfully there’s someone nearby doing WORSE than me, which makes me feel better at least,

“Oh.” Our sounded strange in her mouth.

my favourite thing abt any gay media and content is that it’s gay in ways that hettie(tm) nonsense can only dream of being. when a story is abt a guy and a gal all the romantic tension comes from like. looking at a tiddy or getting naked or w/e the shit. here? it’s literally found entirely in the use of the word our. such power. i love it.

I went from unknown to one of Atlas’ most wanted overnight, which is charming… And also annoying, because they refuse to stop pasting wanted posters on every street corner.

i feel like cinder is the type of bitch to send pics of them back to emerald like ‘is my face ACTUALLY that janky??? my hair is a state. you think they’ll use a selfie if i ask nicely???’

Cinder hummed, affirmative. “Which would be unnecessary, if you hadn’t reported me.”

Glynda returned, “I wouldn’t have reported you if you hadn’t been committing a crime.”

glynda you snitch. you narc. you bootlicker. does be gay do crime mean NOTHING to you,

We left a funny taste in her mouth, almost as strange as when Cinder had said our. She tried not to examine it too closely.

again. look at this shit. this is real slowburn hours. this is how u DO IT.

Her heart was beginning to feel like a pin cushion with all the needles pulled out, little holes left in their wake.

would i be showing my age if i glanced at this and wondered if it were a reference to the inciting og offal hunt inspiration fic or. it does doesnt it. okay moving on.

“Okay.” And then, in an effort to change the subject to something lighter: “I’ve never broken into a country before.”

glynda’s complete and continuous inability to actually like. do what she plans on doing is SO funny to me. she’s going to be stealthy, she says, throwing a man aside in obvious fashion. i’m going to be subtle, she says, being as conspicuous as possible. she’s a disaster and i live for it.

"The Faunus." Cinder's voice was cold. "Don't speak to her."

this part of this fic is subtitled ‘cinder’s rank opinions time’, apparently. not that u can tell. but it is. dsfhgjsdfghjghfjdk

In the silence that followed, Glynda thought of the stunted horns jutting above Cinder's hairline at the restaurant.

Glynda murmured, "That’s a horrible thing to say."

"Don’t start." There was no concession in her words. “I mean it.”

“...I just didn’t expect that from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There was something in Cinder’s tone that told Glynda that nothing she said would be correct. She said nothing.

cinder’s! rank! opinions! time! honestly this section victimises me the MOST as i very famously cried over an earlier section in which cinder thought abt all the faunus she grew up with, so i know that kc and diesel were looking to hurt me directly. that said i DO find it funny that cinder, yet again, looks like a pile of shit.  she can’t do anything right. naturally inclined to be the villain completely unintentionally. what a moron.

A harsh laugh. “What do you think we are, friends?”

“Well, no—um. Not really, but—”

YOU SEE. CINDER. PLEASE. £10 FOR U TO BEHAVE FOR FIFTEEN SECONDS.

“Then, just—just listen to me. I’m going to get us there. I p-promise.” There was a soft sound, like disgust or the prelude to a gag. “Urgh, your soul—give me more space.”

cinder: i’m inclined to being an asshole glynda: every time yr mean 2 me i’ll make u feel worse cinder: ah no. ah shit. i have to be nice??? ah fuck. what the shit is this.

Glynda thought of Ozpin. It wasn’t a comforting thought—more like the memory of a near-accident, like sliding on ice and feeling the world shift beneath you. It was a flinch-thought, and it would have made her miserable instead of just homesick had she not shut it out so quickly.

god the writing in this fic is so especially pristine. everything feels so real and visceral and you just know Exactly how that feels. it’s brilliantly punchy and i adore the way u get have the exact sensation click into place. it’s SO good.

She wondered if it was the same moon Bacia and Vivienne had looked upon. If they had felt the same beneath its pale light. The Great War had seen two shatterings of the moon, so perhaps it had appeared different, but… Glynda couldn’t help but wish that it was something they shared, even lifetimes apart.

👈😎👈

actually im a little nervous abt doing fingerguns because WHAT IF SMTHNG HAS CHANGED... but i think this bit is. safe. maybe. diesel. kc. am i safe,

Glynda closed her eyes and tried to feel out that instinctual power within her. Tried to know herself better. It resonated around her like a water in a tank, nearly palpable.

again this is just GREAT storytelling. i just LOVE how well kc and diesel turn abstract ideas into such physical manifestations it’s completely unreal. r y’all seein this shit???

upon checking his number, she’d discovered it had been blocked.

i love that glynda is abt as knowledgeable abt little jumps like this as the reader is. are we surprised as a reader? yes. is glynda also surprised? HELL YEAH SHE IS. SHE AIN’T GOT A FUCKIN CLUE MY DUDE.

Remembering the notes to herself not to trust Winter, Glynda opened the log hesitantly.

glynda no yr sending read receipts to yr future gf and thats a bad move on everybodys part

The indicator showed this wasn’t the first time Glynda had accessed the message. She couldn’t remember doing so. 

OH NO BITCH U ALREADY DID

“Special Operative Schnee, things are…” Glynda paused, searching for something suitably vague to say. “Proceeding.

do you see what i mean abt glynda’s ineptitude. it’s slapstick levels of ridiculous and i’m living for it.

Do you suspect she’s attempting to cross the border?”

“Maybe.”

‘sure,’ glynda says. ‘you could word it like that if you wanted to.’

“Bold of her, if nothing else. She should know there will—” Glynda skimmed through the rest of the paragraph to reach the end, the corners of her mouth curling. “—can make arrangements. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

HGSDFGKHJSFDGHKJDF JESUS CHRIST

its like in fallout 4 when someone tells u important info and when u click past it the main character just goes ‘uh huh’ ‘yeah’ ‘okay’ ‘sure’ ‘mm-hm’ as the text boxes whizz by GLYNDA PLEASE

Bubbles appeared, showing that Cinder was typing. Glynda waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The bubbles appeared and disappeared four times.

She flipped back to Cinder’s conversation and found that, after all that time, Cinder had finally settled on a reply.

It said:

“Good.”

i just had to pair these up for a second if only to say: dis me lol

okay let’s double back for a second just to cover this Juicy Lore:

If you’d like, I can arrange a bouquet of flowers to be left at your mothers’ memorial site. My thoughts are with you.”

For a long moment, Glynda simply stared at the screen. [...] In quick succession, she realized that it had been sixteen days since she’d met with Cinder in the restaurant and that it was soon to be the anniversary of her mothers’ deaths.

WHAT IS THIS LORE MA’AM AND MX??? **MA’X**??? firstly idk what the HELL the Black March tragedy is but im fascinated but also: did u have to do that. can ONE person in this fic not have [spoilers redacted cant say that yet no sir] problems??? no??? die. dsfhjgghjkfsddf

Glynda picked herself up from the armchair, neat and tidy, and disassembled into bed, pulling the covers up to her throat. With her Semblance, she turned off the lights. She closed her eyes.

It was quiet. Cold. The only thing she felt was the weight of her soul.

Her Scroll buzzed. Glynda answered it.

“Glynda.” It was Cinder. “I can feel that.”

okay following on from cinder’s text message, i just. love that cinder’s having such direct repercussions to her shitty shitty actions. like this is all tying together in some 👈😎👈 instances but having cinder be her usual callous self and having to literally turn around and start fucking Being Nice For Once is VERY gratifying. fuck you you lil round-faced one-braincelled baby. time to learn to have some Manners. jgdsfghsdfghfjd

She’d simply resigned to the loneliness of having no one to trust but Cinder, and then, not even having her.

... thats gay. hey lads is that gay? its gay. it feels gay.

On the other end of the line, Cinder let out a tight sigh. “Yeah. Okay, well—I’m in a difficult position right now. I’m balancing a lot. So, that wasn’t, you know, directed at you or whatever… I’m just trying to deliver you to Atlas. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” Glynda said. “This apology sucks.”

this feels like a reference to 👈👈👈😎👈👈👈 (IS IT. AM I RIGHT. IT IS ISNT IT) but also: LOOK AT CINDER GO. TRYING. BADLY. BUT TRYING. i love her she sucks so much shes such a dumbass. feel the consequences. feel them.

Glynda chided herself; Cinder Fall wasn’t capable of remorse, but she was more than capable of simple math. It seemed the worse she treated Glynda, the worse she herself would feel.

glynda: she’s doing this because it makes her feel better, not me cinder in like idk 20 chapters down the line:

(i guess thats another 👈😎👈 moment but for GOOD REASON)

There was a shift, like Cinder was rolling over, or maybe propping herself up. Was she in bed also? It triggered the remembrance of Glynda’s own physicality, and she turned over as well, searching in the dark for the nightstand and the lamp upon it. The light clicked on. The room brightened. Glynda settled in, ready.

OOOOOH THE PARALLELS. glynda turning the lights off and sinking into darkness and the void versus perking up and sitting up and turning the lights on when talking to cinder!!!!!!! POETIC CINEMA. OOF. OOF. HOW DOES FIFTEEN POINTS OF LOVE TASTE.

“Great! Lovely. Glad to hear it.” Fangs rounded out the words like scissors. A pleasant sense of satisfaction unfurled in Glynda’s chest. “So, once upon a fucking time—”

there were two gays and they were enemies to lovers but didnt know it yet. but they will be.

THATS CHAPTER 14 BABEY!!!!!!!! i LOVED this chap and i can rly feel kc and diesel gearing up for umbraroot. its great being able to like. feel the shift of focus goin on here and im SO ready to see this arc play out. once again offal hunt is the best fic ever made. this is a fact.

[danfanciesphil]

Prompt where they fight or smthng and phil leaves for a walk and comes back to dan playing his song on the piano?

very cute, i really like this one

xx

EDIT: I realised just as i started writing this that you specified ‘his [phil’s] song’ - so i am now assuming you’re talking about the song dan wrote for him in Birthday Sex? Sorry if that isn’t what you meant haha, but i dont know of a song irl that dan would play for phil that could be classed as ‘his song’ (thought im sure there are several) 

hope this is all ok! and thank you

Prompts are temporarily closed for the time being! Thank you all for your submissions, I’ll be posting the ones I have in my inbox asap!

“I just don’t think it’s very fair of you to blindside me with all the shitty stuff from our past without some kind of warning!” Dan protests, throwing his flat keys down on to the dining room table. He shrugs his coat off, irritated, and throws it onto a nearby chair. “In front of all our friends!”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to shove all that stuff to one side and never think about it again?” Phil asks, sounding incredulous. Dan rolls his eyes at the theatrical way Phil is behaving. “I’m never allowed to bring it up, or speak about it, or think about it in case it makes you feel guilty and miserable for a split second, is that right?”

“Obviously that’s not what I’m saying, Phil.” Dan says icily, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to be so... so...”

“So what?” Phil prompts, one hand curled around his own set of keys, still. 

Dan just glares, lips pressed into a thin slash across his chin. He’s not going to finish that sentence. It won’t do either of them any good; besides, they’ve both had a couple of glasses of wine. 

They’ve been out for a meal at a posh sushi place for Hazel’s birthday. It’s a place they know well, a menu they’ve ordered from frequently, and friends that they both enjoy being around. 

Dan has no idea why, on this occasion, things turned sour. Out of all the many ways Phil could have answered Louise’s innocent, funny question of ‘what’s the worst pick-up line you’ve tried on someone?’, he had to say ‘well, that’s a difficult one because for the last eight years I've been desperately in love with someone who made it extremely clear they didn’t want me back until very recently. So, I haven’t tried out an actual pick up line in forever.’

His answer had stunned the table into an awkward hush. Dan had been so taken aback by the nonchalant way in which Phil casually dropped this information into the lighthearted conversation - with people who know absolutely nothing about it, save for Louise - that he’d actually choked on an edamame bean. 

They all knew, of course, that Phil was talking about Dan. They must have. 

Suddenly, remembering the stunted, jolty attempts people were forced to make to kickstart the conversation again, to move it into safer territory, Dan doesn’t feel quite so generous. 

He decides to finish his sentence, after all. 

“You don’t have to be so childish about this whole thing.” Dan says before he can think it through properly. “It’s over now. We’re married, we’re together, you have me. Why are you insisting on picking at the scabs? And without even so much as a hint to me beforehand that it’s on your mind at all!” 

“Childish?” Phil repeats, his voice soft and hurt. 

Dan’s heart sinks, and he regrets the choice of adjective immediately. “No, well, no-”

But it’s too late to take it back. The word hangs in the air, taunting them both. 

Dan scrambles to think of a way to repair the situation, but he’s not fast enough. Phil, still wearing his coat, turns back the way he came, keys still clasped in his fist, and walks out of the door. 

Fuck. 

---

Phil has no idea where he’s going. He hadn’t really thought further ahead than getting out of the flat before the argument turned even nastier. 

That’s the problem with arguing with Dan; he’s a hothead. He can’t seem to catch the words in his mind long enough to think them through, he just spits them out, harsh and unfiltered, then regrets it. 

The wind whips against him, and Phil draws the lapels of his coat around himself a little tighter. He’d been so looking forward to getting back home after the dinner tonight. They’d left the heating on, and Phil had been feeling pleasantly tipsy all evening until it got awkward. He’d been thinking about how, later, he could drag a wine-sweetened Dan underneath the covers, kiss him in all the places that made him squirm until neither of them felt the cold anymore. 

He sighs, taking a random turning into a side street he’s never walked down before. He wonders if he should put his hood up or something, as the worst thing would be getting recognised right now. It’s unlikely to happen, though, in the dark. 

Childish. 

That was the word Dan had used to describe him. It echoes through the wide, hollow rooms of Phil’s usually thriving brain, echoing off the cold, stone walls. 

Is that truly how Dan perceives him? Immature and thoughtless? Attention-seeking, maybe? Or sulking, to get his way? 

A shiver runs through his body, and his teeth begin to chatter. He steps through the milky, pale yellow splash of light from an overhead streetlamp, glad of the fleeting absence of darkness. 

He hadn’t meant to say what he did, when he answered Louise. He didn’t think. It’s not like him to say things without thinking, either - but he supposes being around Dan so much must mean he picks up on some of his habits, both good and bad. 

Just now, Dan had said that Phil had blindsided him with the answer. That he’d failed to let Dan know that it was playing on his mind, and that if he’d pulled Dan aside, maybe tried to talk it through a little, things would have been okay. 

But Dan doesn’t understand. The ‘Birthday Sex Era’, as Phil now thinks of it, isn’t something that fleetingly pops into his head now and again. He’s thinking of it always. There’s never a moment that it’s not there, stubborn and loud, a great sea-monster lurking in the ocean of Phil’s love for Dan, its tentacles protruding into every single memory they have as a pair. 

Phil isn’t able to just carve the Birthday Sex monster away. It’s too entwined in what they are, in what they were. It’s part of him, and it’s part of Dan, and it’s a part of both of them, together. 

So, when the delicious Californian white wine is flowing, and Phil is comfortable and relaxed around his favourite, trusted friends, it’s only natural that he’ll answer something asked of him with total honesty. It just so happens that the honest answer he gave tonight was one that the Birthday Sex monster has wrapped itself around. Phil couldn’t help but tell Louise the truth. And the truth had been that Phil, for a long time, was simply not interested in ‘picking up’ anyone but Dan, and that Dan had - somewhat cruelly - encouraged this. 

Two shadowy figures turn into the street, starting to walk towards him. Phil is wearing his contacts, but he still can’t really make them out. Not wanting to linger too long in a deserted, back street with two unfamiliar strangers late at night, Phil turns, walking briskly back the way he came. 

It’s freezing tonight, anyway. Phil’s had a little walk to gather his thoughts. 

It’s time to go home. 

---

Phil tries to unlock the door quietly, half hoping the inevitable confrontation can be postponed a little longer, until he’s shucked off his coat and shoes, at least. 

He manages to stay quiet as he lets himself in, and takes his time about removing his outer garments. He runs a hand through his hair, shuddering as his body soaks up the warmth of the flat, and sighs. 

Belatedly, he realises he can hear a soft, enchanting melody, seeping through the floorboards of the upstairs hallway. Intrigued, as ever, by Dan’s decision to play the piano, Phil follows the haunting tune.

Strangely, as he pads up the stairs, Phil realises that he’s humming along. He pauses in his step, head cocked to listen harder when he deduces that he actually knows this particular song. 

He shuts his eyes, still humming as he tries in vain to place it. Is it a video game theme song, he wonders? Dan is very fond of learning every score of the Final Fantasy soundtrack. But somehow Phil knows it isn’t that, this time. 

His brain aches in protest, complaining that it’s too befuddled with alcohol and post-argument tension to work out what the song is. 

Phil rolls his eyes at his own mind, then continues up the stairs, deciding he’ll just have to remember to ask Dan once they’ve resolved this little tiff. 

It’s as Phil approaches their bedroom, that it dawns on him. The realisation tumbles over him in a gush, and he sucks in a breath, stopping in his tracks. He stands in the doorway, not daring to move in case he interrupts. 

Watching Dan play is a performance in itself, regardless of the music he produces. His back is straight, just as his evil teacher drilled into him that it must be all that time ago. His fingers dance, light as petals skimming the surface of a lake, over the keys. 

Dan hasn’t noticed Phil’s arrival, he’s sure. 

The tune begins soft, then sweeps into a whirlwind of complexity, soaring into something so swooping, so magnificent, so deep and vibrant and pure that it sends Phil’s stomach crashing to the floor. 

After a while, it peters out, trilling gently, teasing the growing quiet with more until it stops entirely. 

Dan hunches forwards, his forehead pressing against the stand as his fingers curl into fists. 

“I haven’t heard you play that in a while,” Phil says, trying to keep his voice soft so he won’t startle Dan, but the younger man jumps anyway, spinning to face him. 

There are obvious, shiny tear-tracks over his cheeks.  

“Phil,” he breathes, clearly amazed, “you’re- you’re back.” 

Phil shrugs, shuffling into the room a little. “Where else would I go?”

Dan is silent for a minute, his top teeth trapping his lower lip like he’s trying to button his mouth closed. It doesn’t work. The words burst out anyway, tumbling from his lips in a messy, unprocessed garble.

“I’msosorry-”Dan starts, eyes desperate. “I just- like, I don’t even know why I would say that- I don’t- obviously I don’t think you’re childish, but youknowwhatI’mlike-”

“Dan.” Phil interrupts, gently. 

“And especially after drinking- like, I knew I should’ve said no to that second glass, but-”

“Dan, stop,” Phil urges, moving towards him. 

Sitting down on the piano stool, scooted up against Dan’s side seems to startle him into silence, so Phil takes the opportunity to speak. 

“I’m not really sure who’s right or wrong here.” He confesses, shrugging one shoulder. 

Dan rolls his eyes. “Come on, Phil, there’s no need to become a martyr just because I’m getting a bit weepy-”

Phil smiles, brushing a thumb under each of Dan’s eyes, rubbing away the moisture collected there. “I’m not being a martyr.” Phil turns to face him as much as possible on the stool, trying to get the words straight in his head. “I just think that this - our situation - is a peculiar one. I don’t quite know how to handle it best, y’know?”

Dan nods, chewing his lip again. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to be constantly on edge in case I spring a guilt trip on you from nowhere,” Phil says, completely honest about this. “But I also don’t really know how to deal with all the leftover... stuff still inside me from that time. The Birthday Sex time.”

“What kind of ‘stuff’?” Dan asks cautiously, sounding like he doesn’t really want to know the answer. Honestly, Phil is pretty sure Dan won’t like the answer either. 

Phil swallows. “Hurt. Anger. Heartbreak. Insecurity. Anxiety.” Phil swallows again. “You know. Stuff.”

Dan takes a deep breath, but nods again, seeming to understand. “So... you’re saying that ‘stuff’ might sort of... leak out at random, inconvenient times?”

Phil quirks a smile at him. “I’m going to try really, really hard not to let that happen. I don’t want to hurt you, or cause arguments. And you’re right, y’know? What you said earlier - it’s over. I have you now.”

His hand travels absent-mindedly to Dan’s hip, ducking beneath the jumper he’s wearing until his fingers skim the tattoo he knows is inked there. 

Dan shakes his head. “I was a prat earlier. Please don’t take any of what I said to heart.”

Phil chuckles at him, and Dan gives him a serious look.

“No, seriously Phil.” He says, making Phil chuckle more. “If anyone’s a fucking child around here it’s me. I’m the one who threw a god damn bitch fit at you for bringing up your own perfectly valid feelings of betrayal. I mean, what right do I have to yell at you for that when it’s all my fault you ever felt that awful to begin wi-”

Phil kisses him to shut him up, mostly, but also because he’s tipsy and sad and bullying himself for things he’s apologised for so many times. Sometimes, the best way to draw Dan out of his own abusive head is to remind him how much he is loved, despite whatever he may think of himself. 

When Phil draws away, there’s a surprised, sweet expression on Dan’s pretty face. Phil smiles at the sight of it, curling his hand into Dan’s jumper. 

“Your playing was so lovely,” Phil tells him wistfully. 

Dan ducks his head, smiling bashfully. “Thanks. I think that’s the only thing I can play without any mistakes.” 

“Will you play it again?” Phil asks, resting his head on Dan’s shoulder.

Dan pretends to look exasperated, rolling his eyes. “You’re requesting your own song for the second time?”

Phil nods, beaming, and Dan shakes his head fondly, but kisses him nonetheless. He places his hands over the keys, and Phil lights up, settling down to listen, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“As if I could ever say no.” Dan murmurs, then starts to play.