#phil knot

[ghoulish-art-tendencies]

Dan and Phil if they were in a band - 2009

-

fun fact! before I started watching dan and phil.. i thought they were a band.. bc of their american tour poster i saw years ago. so. thats where this idea came from lol

[steveinscarlet]

If that's true I'm just going to expire right now 😭😭😭

[lay-z]

Based on this bitch

Pairing: alpha!Phillip Graves x fem!omega!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse AU | established romantic relationship/bonding; knotting; squirting; a/b/o dynamics; praise kink; aftercare/fluff

This ended up so much sweeter than I intended it to be, but eh. The amount of times I've listened to that audio is... alarming. 😩😵‍💫💦 @goatgoesmbe

The dimly lit, lushly furnished bedroom is filled by the obscenely wet sounds of your cunt getting fingered, the frantic rustling of covers, and your alpha’s husky praises while your needy moans are the gasoline to an already blazing fire.

“Come on, baby. Come on, baby,” Phillip repeats, pumping three of his fingers into your sopping hole and curling them up deliciously to hit that little special spot not too far inside your quivering cunt. “Come on, baby, give it to me–fuck.” 

He’s nestled between your trembling thighs like a sniper, one of your supple legs draped over his broad shoulder to accommodate him as he fingerfucks your drooling pussy with perfected precision; feeling your warm, gushing slick dripping down his wrist and soaking into the soft bedsheets. Sheets he will be huffing for days after tonight to remind himself that you’re his now. 

Forever his to protect, his to love, his to fuck. 

“Phil... please,” you mewl desperately, writhing beneath him on the large mattress and canting up your hips to try and make his fingers plunge deeper into your velvety walls—the need to be filled and stretched by his fat knot becoming unbearable as your heat threatens to consume you. “Please, baby, just f-fuck me.” 

It’s the first heat you’re spending with him as your mated alpha, expecting him to be less mean now that you’re in this vulnerable state of your cycle—and being dead wrong about it. 

“Shhh, darlin’,” he coos at you roughly, his fingers never losing their rhythm nor vigor, “–gotta make sure you’re ready for my cock first. Ya gotta gimme one more, hm? Can you do that f’me, honey?” 

The heel of your foot digs into his back, sinking into flexing muscles as your spine arches again, chasing the friction of his fingers, though Phillip doesn’t care about the pain—too distracted by the succulent smell and precious sounds his omega is making, along with the mind-numbing pressure already building up deep in his balls as he humps and grinds against the mattress for some relief. 

“Atta girl,” he snarls, nipping and kissing the inside of your thigh as he feels your walls tighten around his thrusting fingers, knowing you’re about to obey and give him another orgasm like he told you.  

Your whole body convulses with a yowling moan when he latches his plump lips around your swollen clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the sensitive bud with a low groan while his free hand wraps around your other thigh to keep you somewhat still—strong fingers digging into giving flesh, short nails leaving crescent moons on your dewy skin as he laps at your clit like a sloppy dog having a drink of water; sucking and slurping up your slick until your eyes roll back into your skull. 

Each lick of his tongue and pump of his finger into your fluttering cunt pushes you closer to your release; liquid fire pumping through your veins and spiking your pheromones with something burnt as the passion mounts to a crescendo. 

Your body tenses, your mind blanks with white hot pleasure, spine arching sharply as you come with a silent scream before crying out his name while your greedy hole clenches and convulses around his fingers, trying to suck them in deeper. 

His movements slow as he milks your cunt for every tiny spasm, peppering open-mouthed kisses over your swollen flesh while his chest rumbles with a pleased purr. 

“Good girl,” he hums against your warm, sweat-slicked skin while you slump against the mattress, your limbs feeling heavy and mind comfortably fuzzy as the heat fever begins to recede. “My sweet, sweet darlin’ omega.” 

Phillip crawls up your body, boxes you in with his forearms braced next to your head while his hips nestle against yours like a perfect fit. You gaze up at him with glossy, heavy-lidded eyes, admiring his handsome features, a dopey smile tugging at your lips.  

“My sweet, sweet alpha,” you whisper hoarsely, tracing the prominent scar on his cheekbone with featherlight fingertips.  

He leans in, grinds his hips and murmurs against your lips: “Sweet enough to fuck you slow, darlin’.” 

The thick shaft of his cock glides between your puffy folds as he slicks himself up with your cum before he lines his weeping tip up with your hole, popping it past the rim with a guttural moan while his eyes flutter in bliss. His head tips forward to rest against your collarbone and his brain short-circuits at the feeling of your welcoming heat wrapping around his cock in a way that feels like coming home—like he should spill deep inside you and stretch you thin with his throbbing knot to let his potent seed take root already. 

“Fuck my life, sweetheart,” he groans into your neck, breath puffing and tongue flicking out to lick along your scent gland just to feel the mating scar he’d left there. 

“You fit me like a fuckin’ glove.”  

He growls softly when you whimper his name in return, lithe fingers roaming over his flushed skin and carding through his short hair in a way that leaves him breathless while he starts to move and grind his hips; sinking his long shaft deeper until he bottoms out with another uttered curse, his heavy balls nestling against the curve of your ass. 

The bed starts rocking as Phillip fucks you in a deep, sensual pace; causing your breath to hitch and dissipate in keening mewls while you cream and quake around his plundering cock until he dips down to swallow your needy moans by kissing you with fervent passion, tongues tangling and drooling sloppily as he groans into your mouth when your nails rake down his back, leaving your own red-hot marks. 

“That’s it, baby,” he rumbles with approval, panting against your lips while his pelvis grinds against yours, stimulating your swollen clit with each thrust. “Mark me up. Show ‘em who’s yours.” 

“Fuck, you’re mine,” you whimper, sounding utterly wrecked, “–m-my alpha.” 

Phillip has the audacity to chuckle before he folds you up in a heartbeat, heart thudding inside his chest when he has you in a mating press underneath him. He can feel you trembling when he changes the angle and fucks you harder, more purposeful; cunt squelching around his thick cock when his thrusts become harsher, balls slapping against your sticky skin with each roll of his hips. 

“I need to feel you cum, baby,” he rasps and trails his lips along your slack jaw, down the column of your throat to inhale your heady scent. “You’re gonna cum on my cock, yeah? Make a fuckin’ mess on me,” he snarls, feeling his own climax building hot and rapidly at the base of his spine. “Fuck, baby, come on–” 

All you can do is nod furiously, eyes squeezed shut while Phillip ruts into you with increasing urgency—your own climax sneaking up on you like a paid assassination, not giving you a moment to prepare, to gulp another breath before it wrecks through you violently. 

The pressure is immense, choking you momentarily while Phillip’s body blankets you completely, his buff chest pressing against yours as you squirm and writhe in his grip. It’s too much as you feel your pussy gush and squirt around his cock, so you muffle your cries of ecstasy by sinking your teeth into his shoulder, incisors piercing through skin and muscle, drawing warm blood—thus triggering his own release. 

“FUCK!” he roars, fucking into you with sharp, shallow thrusts as you soak his cock with your cum before slamming his hips forward one last time, burying himself to the root inside your rippling channel as his knot begins to swell. “Fuck, yes–yes, baby.” 

His cock jerks and pulses as he spills thick ropes of his hot seed deep into your clutching channel—the force of his climax tearing through him as he continues to grind his pelvis against yours sensually, making sure that every drop of his cum stays inside your gummy walls when his swollen knot pops past your hole, lodging into place. 

Your whimpers and moans are muffled as you keep biting and suckling on his shoulder, shivering and shaking with the aftershocks of your own peak while Phillip pants against your neck, trying to catch his breath. One hand comes up to cup the side of your sore jaw and he digs his thumb into the hollow of your cheek to pry your locked teeth open with an amused growl. 

“Open up, darlin’,” he chuckles darkly, “I’m not a fuckin’ chew toy.” 

“Mhm, sorry.”  

Letting go with a soft whine, strings of your saliva connect your lips with his bruised skin before he turns his head to capture your mouth in a deep yet slow kiss while his hand buries into your hair, cupping the back of your head as he massages your scalp. 

“You did so good f’me, baby,” he mutters against your lips, and you can hear the amusement in his raspy voice while his cock keeps twitching faintly inside you.  

“I might just have put a muzzle on you next time, yeah?”

[makeyoumine69]

Hi Lexi! I have to say that I wasn't even into Patrick Bateman before I started reading your works, but now I'm completely hooked! If you would allow me to ask you one small thing, I would be so happy! Could you please write some spicy somnophilia with Patrick? Excuse me my English! It's not my native language! Anyway, I hope you're in high spirits and wish you all the best! Keep cooking, Queen!😘

In The Air Tonight

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x fem!Reader

CW: Smut, somnophilia, orgasm denial (kinda), mutual hand job, unprotected vaginal sex, spanking, finger sucking, dirty talk, pet names, touch starved Patrick.

SONG REC: Phil Collins — In The Air Tonight

A/N: Hello my dear anon! Thank you so much for all the kind words, I really appreciate them! I hope you'll enjoy this little writing.

That night, after an unpleasant conversation with Bateman that bordered on an argument, you couldn't really sleep. And the fact that he was gone, leaving you alone in his lavish apartment, didn't help, but you managed to convince yourself that you wouldn't stay up late waiting for him to return. Even if he didn't get back until morning, you wouldn't care—or at least you forced yourself to believe that you wouldn't. Eventually you fell asleep with a smile on your face, dreaming about how Patrick would try to justify where he had been all night.

The fresh night breeze sipping through the bedroom blinds tickled your exposed skin as you slept uncovered, and while Bateman always had to put a blanket on you every night, tonight you slept alone and his big bed seemed so strangely cold. A soft, barely audible click echoed through the hallway as someone unlocked the front door, and the next moment the owner of the apartment crossed the threshold, moving as subtly as a cat—you didn't have a chance to notice his presence.

With slow, precise steps, Patrick walked past the living room, only to stop in the doorway to his bedroom to see your motionless, sleeping form; his hazel eyes took in the sight of the beautiful curve of your hips, and then, as you suddenly rolled onto your stomach, your ass was on full display for him to admire, and the man couldn't help but gasp, his hands instinctively fixing his red tie, which he then had to loosen.

Just when he thought he had the situation under control, you made a small, sexy sound that was something between a moan and a sigh, and even though it was quiet, Bateman still managed to hear it, and he was not very happy about it.

Cursing to himself, he pulled himself away from the doorjamb, brushing his hair back, not even noticing that his free hand was already busy undoing his clothes. First Patrick unbuttoned his navy blue shirt, the cotton material smooth under his fingertips, then he moved closer to the bed, kneeling down on it with precise caution, because he didn't want to wake you. Not yet.

Hugging the pillow, you were completely unaware of what was happening, even as the man lay next to you and his large palm slid down your cheek, you only sighed in response, almost nudging into his touch.

"God, you look so sweet like that," Bateman crooned, continuing to caress your face, his thumb sliding gently down to your lips, tracing their outline. "So peaceful."

Sniffing sleepily, you suddenly felt a lingering touch slide down your spine as you rolled onto your side. Then the touch became more deliberate and demanding, descending to your lower back, then to the hem of your nightgown, only to lift it up and spread your legs, teasing your delicate pussy lips. Half awake, you stifled a moan from the knotting sensation that was pooling down your lower body, Patrick's thumb flicking around your sensitive little bud feeling almost electric. The man couldn't hide his excitement at the way your body was responding even though you were unconscious, that notion made his cock twitch and spurred him to unzip his Armani pants in one impatient motion.

"Patrick," you murmured suddenly, still half asleep. "Is that you? You…came back?"

Bateman chuckled with amusement. "Of course it's me," he chanted in response, and before you could even react, the man grabbed your hand and placed it on his engorged dick, forcing you to stroke it. "Who else could it be? Were you thinking of someone else, darling?" His question caught you off guard, adding to the overwhelming sensations of his soft finger pads playing with your swollen clit.

Without really caring if you answered, Patrick repositioned his thumb, plunging it into your mouth to slide it along your wet tongue, making you taste yourself. Whimpering around his finger, you let him use your hand the way he wanted, the friction of his thick cock along the soft skin of your palm driving him crazy, but he tried his best to prolong this moment before he could finally fuck you senseless.

"Just you…" you bubbled breathlessly after licking his thumb. "All I could think about… was you… how I was going to slap your face when you got back!"

Bateman felt the warmth grow between his legs as he pressed his hard cock firmly against your soaking cunt, grinding it between your thighs, he could feel your legs tense under the silky fabric of your nightgown. "You can try," his grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer, his veiny shaft sliding back and forth between your soaped pussy lips, its tip teasing your clit with each slow stroke. "But first… I'm going to fuck you."

Never waiting for any kind of confirmation or consent, Bateman slammed his cock into you with a powerful, brutal thrust, burying himself deep inside your blushing cleft. The man let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your tightness envelop him, his fingers digging harder into your waist.

"Fuck… so tight…" his voice was strained with lust as he immediately began to move, thrusting into you hard and fast, his cock stretching your inner walls painfully. "I missed this."

The only sounds in the room were the creaking of the bed and the wet, slick sound of Patrick's cock driving in and out of you; his breaths came in ragged gasps as he continued to fuck you mercilessly, his fingers squeezing your hips tighter and tighter, enough to leave bruises.

At one point you had to grab the pillow for support, but Bateman had other plans, his large palms finding yours so quickly. Without any resistance from your side, the man pinned your wrists to the bed with one hand, the smooth metal of his Rolex sliding along your hot skin.

"I…" you hiccupped as he suddenly rolled his hips against yours, the curve of his dick hitting all the right spots inside of you, coaxing your pussy to clench around him. "I'm gonna cum."

To your surprise, instead of saying something mocking or taunting, Bateman just briefly nibbled your craned neck, picking up the pace, holding you as close as he could. When you closed your eyes, you were literally melting in his arms, at his mercy, your body was like the musical instrument, and he was the perfect musician, knowing exactly where to push and pull.

"Patrick…mhm…s-so close!" You instinctively tried to free your hands as you couldn't really control your body, but he held you too tightly. "So…fucking close!"

Hearing your desperate moans, the man stopped moving. "Hang on," he whispered suddenly, pulling out of you, leaving you empty and teetering on the edge, but never really falling over. "I have a better idea."

With that, Patrick shifted his position to kneel on the bed, the moonlight outlining his chiseled frame, leaving shadows on the wall that made him look even more mysterious. But you didn't really have time to admire this scene as he positioned you on all fours, his strong hands already wrapped around your waist.

"'C'mon, honey," the man husked, brushing his messy bangs from his sweaty forehead. "I wanna see you fucking yourself on my dick," he kneaded your ass gently, almost lovingly, before delivering a hard slap. "Use my cock darling, don't be shy."

The way he talked, the way he groped every little curve of your body, it was intoxicating, it was overwhelming, you were literally afraid to pass out at any second if he continued to torture you like this.

"God, you're such an asshole, Bateman," you scoffed before letting out a loud whimper as your bodies connected again, but this angel struck differently, forcing your inner channel to encase his dick like a tight glove. "Fuck…" you cursed again, rocking back and forth, his dick thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt so deliciously you swore you could see stars before your eyes. "You…I h-hate you!"

Grinning, Patrick pulled up the hem of your nightgown and left it folded at your waist, wanting to have the full picture of the way you were taking him. Every jiggle of your ass, your pussy so wet and stretched out to accommodate his huge size. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect, but he couldn't allow himself to admit it.

"Faster," Bateman moaned through clenched teeth, clasping his hands behind the back of his head and bucking his hips against yours. "Damn...you moan like a bitch in the heat...and your voice sounds so fucking cute when you curse like that."

No way you would respond to his cheesy provocations. Not now, when you were so close to your exquisite orgasm. This bastard could say whatever he wanted, you wouldn't even mind him being arrogant about his "magical" ability to make you cum so quickly. You didn't care because in the end you would be satisfied.

The obscene, almost grotesque sound of flesh slapping against flesh was hypnotic, your labored panting and his low groaning, your "sweet" curses mixing with his little praises. When you finally let yourself go and put your hand between your legs to rub your feverish clit, you almost bite the pillow under your sweaty body. This delirious sensation, rippling through every little part of your body, setting every nerve ending on fire—well, for that you could even forgive Patrick for being a dork.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

[the-blue-countess]

Primo headcanons that aren’t ‘old man doing old man things’

(I love those, but we as a fandom - bandom, I might say - need to remember how batshit he was)

- starting off simple, Primo unironically loves the Beatles (it started out as a way to piss off Nihil in the sixties, but now it’s a genuine appreciation)

- refuses to use electricity most of the time, would rather smack into walls by candlelight than embrace the clinical and frankly ugly modern lighting.

- hates humanity, especially after basically raising Secondo and Terzo while Nihil did whatever he wanted. He loves his brothers, who are a bit of a soft spot for him

- adding to this, I believe that canon cryptid Primo and loving older brother Primo can both exist - He was the best older brother, careful and loving, often acting in a manner perhaps a bit more subdued than normal. Primo embraced his more caring traits when with his brothers, ensuring their happiness as best he could regardless of his reputation. He tried to be, what he considered to be, a better version of himself for them.

- as such, when he went on tour and said all those crazy things in interviews, his brothers had to do a double take.

- this isn’t to say that, when not with his brothers, he wasn’t doing weird and creepy things. Primo often enjoyed being off putting, and occasionally does strange things to keep people on their toes.

- once they were all grown up, Primo allowed some of his more bizarre thoughts to be said out loud. Every so often, Secondo will burst into laughter at something he has said, especially at the conversational tone

- often says things and people can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. Occasionally he’ll say something outlandish, which mustn’t be true, surely, only to be proven right at a later date, so Terzo takes him at his word on principle, no matter how stupid the claim may be.

- He once claimed to be Jack the Ripper, and some children of the clergy managed to get word of it and believed him.

- makes terrible jokes, and enjoys wordplay that makes his brother sigh

- was definitely a goth during the 80s

- in addition to his marigolds and daisies, he probably grows poisonous plants too, such as belladonna and foxglove, along with Venus flytraps. As such, he has to make sure that Copia’s rats stay out of the garden

- refuses to watch Nosferatu (1922), because he feels insulted by the portrayal of the vampire, which he claims was based on him.

- no one really knows how old he is, not even Nihil, who was a teensy bit stoned the year Primo was born

- fairly eldritch, and likes to do the Michael Myers disappearing act, but only when people look away from a distance - never during conversation (unless it’s Seestor, who he allows himself to be rude to)

- has a tendency to lurk; around corners, in the shadows, in the backs of rooms

- pierced his tongue during the 70s

- like to have bitchy conversations with Chain ghoul, who he gossips with, often about macabre things. Likes to spend gloomy evenings strolling through cemeteries and judging the headstones, often mocking the inscriptions.

- on the subject of ghouls, has grown fonder of them over time, ceasing his previous disturbing behaviour, although despises Phil, who keeps popping up where he’s not wanted. They definitely help out in the garden

- there are rumours that bodies are buried in his garden beds, and that’s why his flowers are so huge. He never confirms nor denies these accusations, only commenting that he has a good fertiliser.

- after his run of Papa, he relaxed a little. He spends most of his time doing whatever he wants, mostly on a whim.

- every so often he’ll disappear, sometimes for days at a time, only to reappear later, hair full of twigs and knotted something awful, with new light in his eyes.

- nobody knows where he goes, and it’s anybody’s guess. Secondo has bet money that he’s visiting a lover, whereas Terzo thinks he likes to hang out away from people and live in the trees for a bit. Copia thinks that he has his ghouls bury him alive for some much needed rest from the world. They have no idea if they’re right or not, because Primo refuses to tell them.

- Copia once walked into the kitchen of the Ministry in the middle of the night to find Primo, after being gone for a week, sitting calmly by an open window with a chalice in his hand, jumping at the sight and almost dropping his rats,

“Holy fuck, where the shit have you been?”

“I have no idea what you speak of. I never left.”

- refuses to go out on sunny days without an umbrella. Would rather takes his walks at night and bathe in the moonlight.

- despite his paternal instincts, he cannot bake for shit, his biscuits always ending up burnt to a crisp, no matter what he tries. Eventually he gives up, and Secondo does the baking from now on

- probably sleeps in a coffin, just for laughs

- always wins at Uno, but cannot play cards to save his life. Purposely avoided playing any type of card game with his brothers because they can beat him without fail, even without knowing the rules

- claims to only watch silent films, but has a secret love of torture slasher films, as they allow him to revel in the cruelty of the human race, stoking his hatred of humanity.

- fucking adores Elizabeth Bathory, and will defend her to his dying day. Gets into arguments online about whether she was innocent or not.

- spent a week in an opium den, for no reason other than he could.

- always knew that Nihil would choose Seestor over them, and likes to haunt them both before they die.

- likes to give pep talks to the other papas before touring, especially Copia and Perpetua although his advice can vary in its usefulness, and is often oddly specific and irrelevant.

- he, Secondo and Terzo hang around the Ministry more often now that Copia is Frater, doing their best to make sure he isn’t lonely or sad.

- refuses to buy into the capitalistic machine, and makes all his own clothes, with the exception of the crimson sweaters that Secondo knitted for him.

- likes to take a lawn chair to busy intersections to watch the carnage

[phorever-after]

dan and phil red string of fate but they tied it themselves and made bunny ears to knot it btw.

[tjodity]

dsmp lesbian analysis post

this was based on a misreading of a different post so now im rating how lesbian dsmp characters are. no real criteria just going off of vibes from a lesbian. based vaguely on how lesbian they are and how much they might identify as lesbian

C!Phil- (4/10)-he has a wife so thats something. he's kinda forgone most identities by this point he just does what he wants

C!Tubbo-(1/10)-im sorry thats just some binary gay transmasc guy. he may have briefly been a lesbian in his early teens so he had an extremely on the spot explanation for schlatt abt dressing masc but he likes men (a lot) so he never really had any attachment to the label

C!Ranboo-(3/10)-they arent really interested in women but he's got a lesbian gender thing goin on. guy with a weird relationship to femininity

C!Dream-(2/10)-she actually is a lesbian but no ones told her that yet and she's probably not gonna figure it out on her own. mamacita was an egg cracking experience

C!George-(0/10)-im sorry i dont see it

C!Niki-(10/10)- trans curious bisexual woman who wears a trench coat and has ratty dyed pink hair and knows how to tie a lot of different kinds of knots and not for boat reasons. she's having a full boar gender and sexuality crisis starting during the election. dyke as a gender identifier probably wouldn't occur to her but she'd like it a lot. she'd also like the old flag with the axe

C!Sam-(2/10)-not really a lesbian at all but if puffy squints hard enough while theyre making out sad style she can act like he's a cute butch

C!Fundy-(3/10)-he doesnt really call himself a lesbian but whenever he has a crush on a woman he in his head says he's being gay for her. accidentally postponed niki's sexuality crisis by transitioning to a guy

C!Punz-(10/10)-look at him. look at him. butch lesbian who kinda acts like a dog for the girl she's obsessed with. religious horror toxic devotion yuri buff lady general tragedy we got it all. also tommyinnit certified look

C!Hbomb-(3/10)-she's mostly straight but a lot of her admiration of other women and learning to do femininity in a way she likes kinda aligns her with lesbians. she believes in their beliefs

C!Sapnap-(??/10)-kinda in a quantum state of lesbianism for me. could go either way honestly. if her fiances want her to be a girl she can be

C!Karl-(9/10)-karl set off everyone's lesbian radar they didn't know they had which was really confusing cause it presented like a gay cis guy for a long while. tubbo just happens to ask her abt gender once on a whim n she's like oh no im a girl thing :3 and everyone else freaks out cause it was just not correcting them. it likes flamboyant masc fashion and being confusing

C!Quackity-(10/10)-watch the quackhalo date stream if you haven't yet i'm begging you. bigender transfem girlguy guygirl who wants to be someone's girlfriend and have a girlfriend or multiple or many. she's running the full gambit of presentation in a bunch of combos

C!Badboyhalo-(5/10)-Quackity brings out the lesbian in her (she's a closeted transfem lady and it makes her very flustered when she realizes q's calling her his girlfriend.) the bigboobies in bigboobyhalo are the result of lots and lots of estrogen

C!Wilbur-(0/10) he doesnt know lesbians are real

C!Puffy-(7/10)-the best way i can describe puffy's gender is that she is earnestly trying to be as confusing contradictory and horny as possible and it's working. she's a lesbian but only when she's a guy or just extremely down bad for some lady and if you called her a dyke she'd moan

C!Slimecicle-(7/10)-lesbian as a gender thing. he doesn't like using typical words to describe his gender but lesbian is the closest to standard it'll go

C!Hannah-(10/10)-she likes women. A LOT. and also worked hard to become one. just a lot about women going on in her life

C!Schlatt-(???/10)-he's got some shit to sort through n maybe that'll be a realization he makes down the road

C!Foolish-(2/10)-if you tried hard enough you could make him one

C!Tina-(10/10)-many of her actions are motivated by the need to kiss a girl with teeth

C!Eret-(8/10)-strong yuriful vibes

C!Tommyinnit-(9/10)-they are fucking ATTACHED to that label you can pry it from their cold dead hands. she also likes boys n is more platoniromantic than anything but. lesbian critter right there it's important to her

C!Aimsey-(-1000/10)-killed your wife idiot

[justcallme-ange]

Happy 1 Year Little Comforts!! <3

Give or take a couple days - oops ^^;

One of the longest projects I've done to date!! <3 <3 <3 Thank you all so much for the support, as well as all the comments and tags! I love going through them and reading all the lovely messages. They're a great pick-me-up whenever I'm feeling demotivated. So thank you again <3

So for the anniversary I wanted to do a little thing where I point out some details in the comic I'm very proud of XD (Yes I'm tooting my own horn - shhh)

Three Wishes Dream asks Techno to promise him something 3 times. And only on the third one does Techno agree. I tried to frame it as both Techno being cautious about agreeing to things Dream proposes (a la favor) but also as Techno finally agreeing when everything was laid out and there was nothing Dream had left to hide. (It's like a fairytale trial - 3 challenges with the last having a great reward.) Forget-me-(k)not I don't know how prevalent they are now a days, but growing up I was a really forgetful child, and learned somewhere that by tying a knot on your finger when you need to remember something supposedly helps in you actually remembering. Which idk if true, it didn't really work on me, but the knot itself actually stuck, so in this case I used it for 3 things: A reminder that Dream was stuck in prison and needed help, a reminder that Phil needed to get Techno out of prison (eventually), and a reminder that Techno promised Dream he would free him. Scars So all the scars that I drew Dream with all actually have canonical reasons. So in order - the one across his nose was from Techno during their duel, the ones on his neck and chest were from Tommy taking two canon lives, the one on his lips were from Sam after first being detained, and the last on his chin (and arms) are from Quackity. Continuity The armor that Phil is wearing at the end is a reference to another illustration I did of the Doomsday Trio. It's post prison break so maybe it's a sequel? (This is less a detail and more just a personal thing - but my favorite page has to be page 7 - where Dream's image crumbles. It usually takes me at least 2 tries to get the look I want - this was one and done ^^) More behind the scenes - this comic (final version) started with the hug. I said initially the comic was supposed to be 6 pages at most, but I wanted to make the hug work so bad that I literally rewrote the comic. Only the first two pages are part of the original draft. Everything else was new. My brother literally sat with me for days going over each scene and making edits. OTL There were so many iterations - in the end I think there are at least 7 drafts of this comic. Cut Content Bonus: Unlike my other comic where the vision was there from the beginning, Little Comforts had some growing pains, and a few scenes had to be cut for it to work. So here ya go!

This was cut in favor of the shaking scene, some levity was needed to let the scene breathe, plus quoting my brother "It's more Techno".

Also wanted another hug, but editor and I felt that it took away from the pay off in the end.

Alternate version of 'he's a child' - originally it was supposed to go at the end of the comic, as an epilogue. Timing wise it ended up not working, which ended up with an even better gut punch so I'm not too upset. I may still render this....

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Some of my actual headcanons for how c!Techno's wears his hair, from more common to less common:

simple braid for casual everyday wear, because it stays out of his face and is neat without taking long to style

loose hair for lazy days when he's inside a lot

bun for in the arena or anywhere he knows he's going into battle. The bun is probably messy BUT very secured. Nothing for enemies to grab and doesn't obscure vision while fighting. Also fits under a helmet.

ponytail when he's in a hurry, again mostly for fighting or working

more intricate braids, usually for casual wear when he feels like it OR when somebody else does his hair (mostly Phil). Techno has several braided styles he uses for hibernation, because they're comfortable to sleep in but prevent him from waking up with a dozen knots

half up half down styles for when he's making an effort (special events) or when he's really bored. Or again, when somebody else does his hair (Niki likes doing his hair half up, half down)

(The more intricate braids and the half up half down styles come with hair jewelry of course!)

[ghoulish-art-tendencies]

drew so much phanart trying to cope with the recent events that i hurt my hand and cant draw for more than 5 minutes at a time… i guess ill just write phanfic for hours instead and strain my thumbs next

[antimony-medusa]

Makes The Rain Different

Techno had thought that Phil was going to be sleeping next to him when he was unconscious, the same way that he did when Techno was not hibernating. He felt his stomach knot unpleasantly. “You’re going to the other house?” Phil blinked at him, cap of the pen in his mouth. “Well sure, I mean, you gotta get your fuckin’ soul to stitch back together while you sleep, I don’t wanna bother you.” Techno was well aware of the after-effects of the totem slamming his soul back in his body after the anvil hit. He didn’t want to discuss—that. He didn’t want Phil to leave him alone either. He raised his eyebrows down at Phil. “I put up with your snorin’ normally, don’t I?” Or: the execution left more than one type of scar for Techno to deal with, but he doesn't have to do it alone. Day One: Bed

Status: 1/1 chapters, updated 16 March, 1,260 words

Fandom: Dream SMP

Rating: General

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza

Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza

Tags: Domesticity, hibernation, Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza are Best Friends, Sharing a Bed, Disability, acquired disability

Guess what guys it is day one of @techzaweek and buckle in cause you're going to be seeing a lot more of me in the next week. A whole week for techno+phil posting? I have been working on this since January. And I also decided to try to work on writing fics that are not 10k, so hopefully I won't be dropping entire novels on you. Like this one, totally reasonable. Some disability feelings and emduo friendship, which I'm sure is shocking to anyone who sees my page. I hope you enjoy!

[justanoasisimagines]

You rub my back and I'll rub yours

Summary; When Phil sees your back is aching, he finds the perfect excuse to make his move. Pairing; Phillip Graves x Female!Reader Wordcount; 525 A/N; Hey my lovelies, back with a Drabble. I may write a part two to this I don't know yet. Also my requests are open and you can find my request guidelines pinned to the top of the page! Also Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

Phillip observed you lean over as you explained something to them for the third time. You were too patient. Too kind. He'd listened to you explain it clearly. It wasn't hard to understand.

What Phil couldn't understand was how your trousers were standard issue. They fit too perfectly on your body. Highlighting the natural curve of your ass. It was driving Phil crazy, how good you looked.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to call you his. Show every man in his office, that you were his and his alone. He needed you like he needed air. Running his hand over his hair, he leaned back on his chair, staring at you shamelessly.

You remained hunched over for at least thirty minutes. Phil's paperwork remained untouched. He could try, but there would be no point. He couldn't concentrate or perhaps he didn't want to.

Blinking his eyes rapidly, he snapped out of his trance as you straightened out your back, hands holding onto your back, wincing in pain as you attempted to stretch out your aching muscles. Immediately, Phil began to rummage through his draw searching for something.

"Hey Darlin', here," He threw the tube at you which you caught with ease and a wince. Phil's smile when you began to approach his desk, leaning your hip against it as he looked up at you.

"Thanks," Phil looked down at the muscle relief in your hand, then looked back up at you. An opportunity had arisen and he would be a fool not to take it.

"You want me to help you with that Darlin'?" A smirk graced Phil's lips as he observed your eyes widen at his forwardness. "Don't think I haven't noticed the passaway looks you've been giving me for months now. So, what do you say?"

Phil noticed your eyes widen at his proposal. However, his Ma always told him if you don't ask you don't get. The muscle relief rested in your hands as you contemplated your decision.

Phil smiled when you placed the muscle relaxer into his hands, he rose from his chair, taking your hand a hold in his, he pulled you away from the room. he didn't care who could see the two of you leaving together.

He'd deal with them if they dared to turn it into mindless gossip. He would make them fear him if he had to. Pulling you along, he makes his way to his quarters. No one would bother you here.

"Get yourself comfortable Darlin'." Phil locked the door behind him. Not wanting anyone to disturb the two of you.

Phil then proceeded to rub your back gently, taking the time to work through any aching muscles and knots in your back. Phil admired how smooth your skin felt as he enjoyed you sinking deeper into the mattress.

Perhaps if he asked you nicely, you'd give him one in return.

[tetrapaec]

Phil saying "KNOT" with the wolf ears on... Not to be omegaversing on main but well...

[nomsfaultau]

FINAL SECTION

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

“I can’t make promises that this will cure anything,” Philza reminds him. Tommy scoots towards the cliff ledge of the frozen bay, a kicked pebble plummeting, plummeting, crunching into the ground below, blood and pain spilling out of him. He tries to focus on fluffy white clouds and pretty scenery but all he can see is the tower from exile. The choppy, turbulent waters of the sea he always woke up drowning in. His chopped off feathers fanning around his abuser’s mask. 

He’s pulled away from the hypnotizing reverie when strong arms wrap around his chest. Philza’s steady heartbeat hums against the back of his head. It’s so wonderfully comfortable in a way that makes him nervous. He’s tried to avoid close contact with Phil, but there isn’t much of an option now. “.....ommy? Tommy? Mate?”

“Huh?” His head feels like it’s swimming. 

“I asked if you feel secure enough.” No. Tommy can’t remember the last time he felt safe. Well. Aside from what his avian instincts were tricked into believing. He doesn’t trust the feeling all that much. 

What he says instead is, “If you drop me I’ll stab you.” Philza chuckles. 

“Fair enough. If it helps I never dropped Techno the few times he let me fly him.” 

“Bruh. Never accidentally, more like,” Techno mutters darkly, earning a smirk. But Phil assures Tommy it’s going to be as gentle a flight as possible. Which probably isn’t a very accurate replication of a first flight. Vaguely Tommy remembers his own from when he was a kid, a scrambling terrifying elating freeing chaotic tangle rushing at him faster than the wind. It had felt so right, once. Natural, like he was growing up. Finally independent, not needing to rely on a guardian anymore. Tommy wants that feeling more than anything in the world right now. Tommy needs Philza to be right, for this flight to fix him. Even just a little, just enough to know it’s possible. 

But the memory of his recent failed flight is far sharper, of the moment he realized his abuser was right about him. An overhanging shadow of doom, despair, dependence. 

Phil tries to nudge Tommy forward, towards the edge, and suddenly Tommy’s panic spikes. He scrambles back, almost expecting resistance, expecting Phil to dump him off the tower. But Philza easily gives away, letting him retreat even as scarlet shame fills him. 

“Uh…are you scared of heights?” Techno asks. 

“No, don’t be stupid,” Tommy snarls. “Stop laughing at me, oh how ironic the avian hates heights, I’m not stupid, I’m not scared of the tower. How about you try jumping off a cliff and see how you like heights, pig boi. I’m not scared. I’m not stupid.” 

“Never said you were. I wasn’t making fun of you,” Techno replies mildly, hooves held out in pacification. “And, uh, what’s the tower?” 

Shame throttles Tommy. Philza frowns at a memory. “...is it the structure I found you at?” 

“I was trying to fly,” Tommy mumbles. He had been trying a lot of things. Some of them had very nearly succeeded. 

Techno and Philza wince as they remember the bloody, almost dead state they’d found Tommy in all those weeks ago. “Could do it with your eyes closed,” Techno suggests. “Just like when I clean up your wings.” Techno’s tusks twist in thought, then he roots around in his bag. He presses a glass bottle into Tommy’s hands. 

“It’s not going to work if I’m asleep, idiot.” 

“Nah, it’s Slow Falling. Just smash it if you need it, alright? It’s the extended version so no matter how high up you are you’ll get to the ground safely. Whenever I get anxious about somethin’ I like to over prepare. That way I have a plan to think about instead when my brain tries to run through disasters.” Oh. Tommy stares at the foggy, half frozen potion. The knots in his gut ease a little. Not the terrifying plummet of the tower, but something slow and gentle. It can’t quite ease the instinctive fear rolling inside his subconscious, but it soothes his more logical balking. What helps even more is knowing Techno cares enough to look at his fear and somehow untangle it in a way Tommy could never manage on his own. 

Techno and Phil are both trying so hard to help Tommy with the messy, ugly parts of himself. Not pushing him away because of it or ignoring the bad, but accepting and working with it. And if they’re trying so hard, they must think it’s possible for it to get better. Maybe they’re right, or will be if Tommy gives it his all, too. 

“... and if that’s not enough I can get you Feather Fall boots. I’d give mine but, well, hooves. It’ll take a bit to make, but you wouldn’t get hurt as badly if there’s ever another fall like that.” 

Tommy splits into a tentative smile. “Really? You’d do that for me?” 

The tension lining his broad shoulders eases, taking on a lopsided grin. “Well. Well you’d have to pay me. I’m not a charity out here, kid. But. Maybe I can get you a friendship discount.”

“We can wait till the boots are done to fly,” Phil offers. “There will be another windless day.” But Tommy clutches his potion. Now. He needs to do it now, when hope still hums in his chest. He can do whatever he has to for it to be easier for himself, not get overwhelmed with shame and loathing and refuse to ever make it better. 

And if what it takes for him to fly is a potion clutched for dear life, is large black wings that aren’t his own spreading out, is his face buried in the crook of Phil’s neck so he doesn’t have to see, then all that means is Tommy is flying. Maybe not the way he’s meant to, but the only way he can. Maybe it’s enough. 

He screams with the first swoop, clawing into Philza for safety. Strong arms press him closer to Philza’s chest, reassuring in their tight hold. The nascent reverberations of a coo Philza bites down rumbles in the throat Tommy’s tucked into, instinctively weakening his coiled tension. The flight smooths into a gentle glide, the plummet of Tommy’s gut vanishing. Only the wind tearing past assures him of their movement. 

He knows they can’t be falling, but he can’t shake the thought. Scared, he pries open a eye. Unlike the tower, the ground isn’t rushing up to shatter him. Icy waves scroll past slowly beneath them, almost still. Sunlight glitters across glaciers, burning in radiant streaks. The tranquil arctic sea is starkly incongruous with the terror ebbing in his chest. His urgent nightmares give way to new peaceful memories, the spark of fear unable to catch. Tommy’s death grip on the potion eases from its white-knuckled terror. 

It hasn’t been long enough when they’ve crossed the bay, Phil coming to a careful stop on an outcropping. There’s an awkward moment as Phil tries to set him down and Tommy still clings on. As cold as it is Tommy doesn’t mind being tucked underwing. 

“Alright, check in time. How was the glide? Do you want to try more compli- oh- oh mate,” Philza says in a soft, fragile way as he finally catches a look at Tommy. He bends slightly till they’re face to face, carefully brushing away blossoming tears. Tommy wants to shove him away, pretend it was the wind. But it feels so nice to sink into the warm, calloused palm cupping his cheek. “This cliff connects to the mainland if you’d prefer to walk back. We can try again later. Or never. Whatever you need…” 

Tommy shakes his head, dismissing his worries. “I didn’t know how much I missed it.” 

Philza’s smile is a mixed thing, half relief half heartbreak. “Flying should’ve never been taken from you. But before long your new primaries will come in and you’ll be able to soar on your own.” Before the thought had filled him with dread, but the memory of wind gushing through his feathers dulls the edge of his insecurities. One day he’ll have feathers his abuser never touched. 

On the return flight Tommy doesn’t need to hide, instead facing outward like Phil initially planned. Probably more aerodynamic that way, and it gives him a better view. Tommy’s wings scrunch up, trying not to get in the way of Philza. The flight is rougher than the glide, Philza flapping quickly to gain upward momentum. Tommy’s gut swoops, but the ascension is so unlike his plummet, a controlled and triumphant race towards the heavens. The arms wrapped around his midriff are secure and not for a second does he imagine falling. The shift of Philza’s muscles against his back with each beat of his wings almost feels like his own strain against the wind, almost feels like his own wings. He finds himself tensing in the pattern of it, echoing Philza’s minute adjustments to the wind current. 

Tommy’s wings instinctively begin to spread. They’re so ragged and ugly compared to Philza’s sleek ebony plumage. Mud colored, his abuser teased once. But in the streaks of close sunlight they glow with auburns and golds, the white undersides softer than the surrounding clouds. They wobble slightly as wind buffets the pair, and quickly Tommy straightens out fully, hesitance forgotten. As air slips through his feathers something wakens in him. It feels right in a way so little has recently. 

Philza caws at him, subtly rocking, and Tommy leans into it, copying the tilt of his wings as they arc into a loose gyre. Tommy grins as he earns an approving coo, dutifully mimicking Philza’s exaggerated, coached movements. He flaps, Tommy’s wings awkwardly crashing into his the first few times till he gets in rhythm, the pair climbing higher into the azure. Perhaps for Philza it feels like teaching, but for Tommy it feels like remembering. All the little instinctive details he’d forgotten, all rushing back like they’d never left, like an old nostalgic song he’d thought he forgot the lyrics to until he heard the tune again. His own short wings stretch out beneath Philza’s massive black ones, flapping and angling to match. It’s as if they become one. 

An elated chirp bursts out of Tommy, and for once he doesn’t slam his hands over his mouth. It doesn’t overwhelm him, this joy, doesn’t rob him of his senses. It feels like laughter, something drawn out, not forced upon him. A wild, booming caw explodes from Philza in response, vibrating deep in the chest Tommy is flush against. Tommy is delighted to discover his vibrant, bubbly chirps are prettier than Philza’s raspy caws, though they surely hold no less enthusiasm. Suddenly it makes sense why they’re always so loud and ear-piercing. Words are only whipped away in the rush of the wind. The pair twitter back and forth, less a language and more intuition and tone. It feels like pure joy. 

Their descent is slow and winding, Philza careful to avoid anything resembling a dive or swoop. He’s disappointed when they finally land at the first cliff. It’s dizzying to go from feeling like the wind itself to be standing on firm ground once again. Unconsciously Tommy’s wings flare out, echoing the memory of freedom still ringing in his head. The careful angling for aerodynamics, adjusting to currents of wind. He steps back towards the cliff, tensing as if to launch once more. 

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Tommy blinks. “Hold on, I need a break first.” Phil smiles at the impatience in his eyes.

“Tired old man! I bet I’ll be an even faster flier than you. I’ll leave you in the dust.” Tommy puffs up his chest, but mischief suddenly dances in Philza’s eyes, and Tommy huffs. “What’s so fun-”

“BOO!” Techno shouts, jabbing Tommy in his soft sides. The boy shrieks, feathers fluffing up as he’s seized and lifted into the air. He thrashes and flaps wildly, but the piglin’s long arms prevent retaliation. 

“OOOOOH I’M GOING TO STAB YOU. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH I’M GOING TO STAB YOU.” Tommy smirks in satisfaction as his wing bashes Techno in the snout. It falters as Techno swings him around and around until the world blurs. Tommy stumbles as he’s set down, then leans against Techno as he tries to overcome the vertigo. “There, now I got my turn flying you. I’m sure it was the exact same deeply bonding experience you just had with Phil. I’m guessing it worked?” 

“It was fantastic!” Tommy enthuses, stretching his wings out. 

“I meant the hatchling thing. Like, you didn’t freeze up when I spooked you.”

“Oh.” Tommy had…kinda forgotten about that part. “...maybe?” He catches himself and jerks his head up. “Actually, since I have no possible way of knowing we’ll just have to go on a bunch more flights. You know. Just in case. You never can be sure with these things.” 

Philza chuckles and tucks him neatly underwing, pulling him close. “Oh yes, really cement the milestone to your instincts.”

Tommy laughs as Philza scuffs up his hair, batting him away. “Oi! Don’t mess with the Tommy Charm™!” When meticulously fixing his locks, he freezes as his fingers encounter a foreign object. He slowly pulls out one of Philza’s feathers from where it had accidentally gotten lodged in his hair. He runs his finger along the vane, watching dark barbs ripple, iridescence catching the light in flashes of indigos and wines. 

Philza goes a little rigid. “Ah- sorry mate, didn’t mean to shed on you.” He reaches for the feather, but Tommy is mesmerized by it, flicking the edges so the barbs part then preening them back into smooth completion. 

“Can I keep it?” he asks before he quite plans to. He doesn’t mean to, knows he’s only getting Phil’s hope up. He wants to shove it back in his mouth. He doesn’t. 

“Y-yeah. Sure mate. If you want to.” Phil barely clamps down on bursting euphoria, trying to be as calm and nonchalant as possible. In avian culture, wearing another’s feathers is a promise to carry the person as safely as their own two wings. Hadn’t Philza already done that? Hadn’t he already promised to always? He’s so, so ready to be family, but even if Tommy is painfully aware of it, Philza never intentionally pressures him. He’s just…allowed to take things at his own speed. Tommy doesn’t slip the feather behind his ear, but he doesn’t let go of it, either. That night he tucks it next to a picture of the three of them. It doesn’t feel overwhelming, more like a gentle promise for when he’s ready for it. 

And one day he will be. Not now, though. Not when some small panicked creature in him wants to bolt at the thought of wearing Philza’s feathers, let alone how he feels about his own. 

But one day he’ll wear both their feathers with pride. 

Fin.

[syvlanas-writes]

chokehold - spider-verse, a miguel o'hara mini-series

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, settings, or plots canon to Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse. They are copyrighted to the directors (Joaquim Dos Santos, Kemp Powers, Justin K. Thompson), the writers (Phil Lord, Christopher Miller, Dave Miller), and Marvel Comics. I only own characters, settings, and plots not canon to the Spider-Verse.

Relationship(s)/Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara/Black Cat!OC

Word count: in progress

Summary: It was supposed to be an easy mission: break into The Met, steal a Rembrandt painting, and get out. That was the case until the Spider-Man decided to try and stop Black Cat. During their encounter, there was an inexplicable attraction and when Black Cat escaped, Miguel couldn't get her out of her head. [Inspired by 'Chokehold' by Sleep Token, 'The Beast' by Lady Gaga]

Contains: NSFW/explicit smut!!!, dark romance (stalking, obsessive/possessive behaviors), enemies to lovers, mutual pining, light omegaverse dynamics, possessive!miguel, p in v sex, marking/biting, knotting, overstimulation. More tags to follow.

Chapter 1: cat got your tongue? Chapter 2: mistook you for a sign from god Chapter 3: the beast inside

aesthetics:

playlist:

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

banner made by me in canva with official art

playlist cover also made by me in canva

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Terrible Influence Tour (6) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

A Perfect Macro (ao3) - scaryfangirl2001

Summary: When Phil doesn't answer his texts, Dan searches for him and finds a work of art

Anyone Else (But You) (ao3) - phansong

Summary: Dan and Phil are on the final leg of their Terrible Influence Tour when suddenly Phil starts feeling sick. In a world where you can only get pregnant if you find your soulmate of the opposite sex, Dan and Phil never expected to be dealing with the challenges.

Craving Sunshine (ao3) - euphor7a

Summary: “Can’t fuck a baby into you like this, angel,” Daniela brings her hand back to tap twice at the fist still clenching her hair. “Let go.”

I Love Him (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: There’s a lot to love about tour, but free time in a city on the opposite end of the world is very high on the list.

A fic about art galleries and love at first sight.

idgaf (because it saved me) (ao3) - gaydreaming

Summary: When Dan sits down at his piano, he doesn't expect to put so much emotional vulnerability onto the page. But TATINOF had a song. Introverts had a song. Terrible Influences needs a song. And, more importantly, Dan and Phil need to figure out how exactly they plan to take back what the internet took from them.

if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second, and other bullshit sentences about love (ao3) - m_katiep

Summary: Bringing back the gaming channel didn't magically fix all the problems in their relationship, but maybe a whole ass tour will. Right? Please? Phil is still madly in love, but Dan is struggling.

it's us against the world, together we'll survive (ao3) - evilfrog1

Summary: As Dan and Phil wrap their final show of the Terrible Influence Tour, Phil struggles with the bittersweet reality of endings. Comfort and quiet reassurance follow, because some things don’t end — not really.

Kiss A Ginger Day (ao3) - miku78

Summary: Dan can remember birthdays, jokes from 15 years ago, even the colors of Phil's convoluted, adorable eyes. Does he really think Phil's a natural ginger?

knot problem (ao3) - PhanTDM

Summary: When Dan said "Daddy's got a little knot problem? " onstage, he was making a joke. Except it kinda wasn't a joke- the knot part, not the daddy part. or the problem part.

(long live) that look on your face (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: They're too old and tired for a proper afterparty, but Phil finds a way to make the London shows special anyway.

Lost & Found (ao3) - skygremlin

Summary: "But, what I’m saying is how do you remember a moment when something goes missing? Because then you would know where the thing went!"

"Because you were the last person that had it, ergo you lost it."

Phil loses a house key.

No fun in podcasts (ao3) - harrysbabyboo

Summary: Dan and Phil are almost at the end of the terrible influence tour and as much as he loves it, the pressure is rising for Dan. One guest appearance on a podcast is too much for him and Phil helps him relax.

Not the Jealous One (ao3) - imademon

Summary: After Brighton Terrible Influence show, Dan as Sister Daniel flirts with PJ and makes Phil a little jealous.

paint the town blue (ao3) - miku78

Summary: Feeling burnt out from tour planning, Dan and Phil make an impromptu trip to Brighton.

rattlesnake (ao3) - ZackStriker (PyroStormIsBae)

Summary: to the mirror dan says, "i am sorry you got stuck with me," to the birds he says, "do you ever feel like your body is not your body?" to phil he says, "could you maybe sit a little further away from me during this video?"

phil looks at him with equal amounts despair and love. 'this feels right,' dan thinks, 'this is what love should be for me: painful. it’s what i deserve.'

or: a fic juxtaposing 2012's grief with 2024's joy.

Scent (ao3) - dipnpip

Summary: Dan buys a new cologne and Phil is a big fan!

Soft (ao3) - dipnpip

Summary: On a rare day-off together touring Europe, Dan becomes increasingly flustered by Phil's soft skin while out sightseeing.

The moments we shared drunk (ao3) - dead_little_lamb19

Summary: Dan is the horny clumsy drunk and Phil is the silly giggly drunk.

We did it: Onto a new era (ao3) - DAJPhanTrash

Summary: I saw people saying Phil was close to crying at the end of the final terribe influence tour show so I wanted to write a fanfic it.

No spoilers for the actual show

The end of terribe influence tour. Dan comforts a crying Phil.

You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid (ao3) - dead_little_lamb19

Summary: Dan is just fucking tired after the tour and stressed about their new plans for life. It results in a little fight between him and Phil on a Friday evening. But Phil always gets his way.