#the show even says that holden is canonically

[coraniaid]

I really like After Life (and, specifically, that scene of Buffy admitting to Spike she wasn't trapped in a hell dimension that I just reblogged). I think I would probably put it somewhere in my top five episodes of Season 6 (along with Dead Things, Bargaining and [somewhat lower down the list] Tabula Rasa and Doublemeat Palace).

And yet, as I've said before, I really don't like the way that some fans take it as canon that Buffy literally was in heaven (and that, in particular, something like the popular Christian notion of heaven exists in the Buffyverse despite everything else the show has ever said or will say about it; or that Buffy would go there by virtue of being a virtuous person despite her very explicitly not being at all religious ["note to self: religion, freaky" in Season 2, or telling Holden Webster in Season 7 that there was "nothing solid" to suggest God exists].

I really like the metaphorical reading of this part of Season 6, in which The Gift ended with Buffy making an (ultimately unsuccessful) suicide attempt, and in which she resents her friends for not letting her die, and in which she considers her life in Sunnydale to be a (metaphorical) hell which she compares unfavourably to some nebulous feeling of being 'complete' and 'finished' which she experienced after The Gift. But I just don't think the show is better if you start adding things like a literal heaven to the world's lore. something that nobody had ever even suggested as existing before this season. (I kind of loathe the whole concept of The Powers That Be on Angel for much the same reason; it just doesn't feel like it belongs in the setting the show had previously established).

The thing is, I think Buffy's speech in After Life works just as well -- arguably, even better -- if you don't assume she's right about actually being in heaven. I mean, we know she's wrong to have thought that "everyone [she] cared about was all right". We've just watched Bargaining, after all. Not only is everyone in Sunnydale in very real physical danger without a Slayer to protect them, all of Buffy's surviving friends and her kid sister and her Watcher are all manifestly miserable without her. Plus they'd still have had to deal with the Trio and (almost certainly) Willow's growing reliance on magic [even without the big resurrection spell, are you seriously suggesting Willow wouldn't keep using magic more and more if she lived on a Hellmouth with no Slayer?]. And all the money problems Buffy will find out about later would still have been an issue without her coming back to life! Were they going to send the Buffybot to work a second job to pay the bills? Were they going to send Dawn? And that's not even mentioning Angel, or asking about the people Buffy loved who have already died [are they in heaven too?]. I actually think it's more accurate to say that nobody Buffy cares about was all right while she was gone.

But After Life works because, to Buffy, none of that is relevant in the moment. She convinced herself that the people she loved would be better off without her when she jumped in The Gift, and now -- freshly emerged from her own grave, having been cheated by her best friends of her one chance to quit being The Slayer, told that she can't just pass on the impossibly hard task of living in the world to her sister -- of course she's going to keep believing it. Of course she's going to try to believe it for as long as she can. Because the alternative is admitting that she herself is still needed, and that she can't give up on the world just yet. And she really, really doesn't want to have to do that. Arguably she won't do it until Grave at the end of the season.

The important part of After Life isn't that Buffy thinks she was in heaven; it's that she's convinced the world around her is hell.

[thelaurenshippen]

re: that *chef kiss* PERFECT Franken-Drummer post and tumblr not being all over The Expanse, I know right?? it’s such an amazing show with so many delightful, complicated characters yet it’s so unfairly slept on! maybe because S1 takes awhile to get going and ppl give up? idk but it makes me sad that I have so few ppl to squeal about Drummer and Amos and Bobbie and Christjen and Ashford and Naomi (ad infinitum) with 😭🚀😭

WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT OBSESSED WITH THE EXPANSE HELLO!?!?! there's literally so much to love about it oh my god. you're right, it DOES take a second to get going but once it does!!!

for those of you who have not read or seen The Expanse series (I myself have yet to read the books), let me tell you why you'll love it:

political space drama with incredibly distinct cultures and phenomenal world building, if you're a details girlie (gn), you're gonna go nuts

the found family vibes!!??! are off!?!? the charts!?!? (minor spoilers for the first few episodes) four people are thrown into a situation in which they accidentally become the most important people/fugitives in the whole galaxy and most of them DO NOT trust each other, what could possible go wrong, and even better, what could possibly go RIGHT

Christjen Avasarala. you are not ready for her. most powerful mover-shaker on earth with the most incredible outfits you've ever seen, refined elegance with the filthiest mouth, plus she's got a classic "whatever those two have going on is so gay it veers into something else entirely" with her younger protective knight lady, Bobbie

Bobbie. the "not to be a lesbian but oh my god" post is made for her. we meet her in the show for the first time when she arm wrestles a robot and WINS. you will be begging for her to step on you with her mech suit

speaking of women I want to step on me Camina Drummer. angry revolutionary pirate queen of my heart. do you miss the unique agony of 2000/10s queerbaiting but want it to be not baiting somehow? this show does that, idk how else to explain it. the most agonizing sapphic pining you've ever seen but it's textual and also not painful because its gay. don't worry, Camina fucks, just not the girl she wants most (also spoilers, but this is not a bury your gays show don't worry)

Jim Holden is literally just Some Guy who becomes the special fantasy chosen one because he simply cannot stop Getting Involved. nosiest bitch in the universe, I love him.

imagine you're a girl who leaves your shitty ex and gets a normal industrial job on a spaceship, only to have a six foot, two hundred pound killer dressed as a mechanic imprint on you like a baby duck, and its unclear whether he wants to fuck you or call you a little sister but he definitely WILL kill for you and will do literally anything you say and then you both end up caught up in a weird galactic war by mistake and there's this other guy with a captain america level moral compass and he's cute and you're into him except your shitty ex is still out there with the biggest secret you have and meanwhile your best female friend is the coolest person you've ever met but you don't think you can be what she needs and you're holding your family together, you're holding the universe together and all you want is justice for your people but unfortunately you've gone and fallen in love with the accidental most important man in the galaxy. well, every day Naomi Nagata wakes up

Praxideke Meng. botanist of my heart. literally tames the rabid guard dog that no one else could. gentle and able to stay gentle because of said dog. which brings me to...

Amos Burton. I saved him for last because he is my guy. he is THAT guy. canonically aromantic pansexual king. are you into guard dog characters? do you find yourself drawn to the "sorry my love language is acts of service and all I'm good at is killing people" characters? amos burton is like seventeen tumblr posts come to life. previously mentioned enormous killer dressed as a mechanic, former heels wearing "I didn't always work in space" sex worker who is always rolling into brothels and being like "you guys unionized?", gives a shit about basically no one in the universe except his crew and every single child in the galaxy, accidental comedian because he cannot stop saying weird shit, not a nice or good person but a loyal one, and one who is always trying to relearn the empathy that was carved out of him as a young person. every time he goes homicidal to protect one of his chosen people (crew + any and every child), an angel gets its wings.

fin.

[elisadoreyou]

For the drabble requests, peril meeting each other for the first time?

YALL KNOW I LOVE ME SOME PERIL ! So my peril canon is they met freshman year, Paul having just moved to Tulsa. Just so we’re clear.

I did my best , I’m never good with first meetings but i think it came out okay ! Short and sweet, but it gets the job done.

Darry really didn’t know why he was here. He’d always loved football, loved to play it with his dad, his brothers and the other greasers. As a hobby, as a fun little thing to do to pass the time.

But when his dad asked if he was gonna tryout for the high school football team, Darry couldn’t say no. Because truthfully, he did want to play, he was pretty good for someone who doesn’t have much learning experience, his parents not being able to scrounge up enough money for him to join any teams. And the thought of being on a team was just so exciting to him.

Now though, he feels so out of place among all of the boys. He’s the only greaser that bothered to show up, the rest being socs, and Darry just feels uneasy. And lonely. Like everyone’s staring at him and waiting for him to fuck up somehow, as if that’s possible by just sitting and doing nothing.

This was a terrible idea, I should just leave.

And before he could even turn to grab his things, he hears footsteps coming towards him, and he turns to see someone he doesn’t recognize, and just stares at him, while simultaneously checking him out.

It’s a boy with dark, curly hair, and somewhat of a baby face. He’s tall, but shorter than Darry, who’s always towered over everyone he knows, other then Chet Baker who’s just a freak of nature.

The first thing Darry thinks is Oh, he’s pretty. Now he’s no poet, but the sun is shining perfectly down on this boy and he kind of looks like an angel and-

Jesus, he needs to stop thinking.

Angel boy is smiling, undeterred by Darry’s stare, and holds out his hand, “Hi, I’m Paul Holden. What’s your name?”

Darry just sits there silent for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts. This is obviously a soc, made obvious by the fact that his entire outfit and cleats look brand new. And Darry would have been wary, socs never willingly go up to greasers to just “strike a conversation”.

But then Darry thinks back, to 10 minutes earlier when he arrived, and noticed a curly haired boy sitting by himself on the bench, away from everyone. But Darry’s not rude, and this poor boy- Paul Holden, is just standing with his arm out.

So Darry grabs his hand and shakes it. “Darrel Curtis, but everyone calls me Darry.”

Paul nods. “Darry, I like that better. Darrel sounds like an old guy’s name.” He rambles and sits down next to Darry. Darry can see out of the corner of his eye some of the other guys staring at them, but it seems like Paul is undeterred.

“Thanks, I guess.” Darry shrugged, “Did you need something?”

Paul shook his head. “No, I just saw you sitting by yourself and thought you needed a friend. I just moved here so I don’t know anyone, and if I’m being honest, you look much nicer than those guys.” He nods his head towards the other socs.

Darry was just dumbfounded though. “A friend?” What the hell was this guy on about?

Paul just laughed, still smiling. “Yeah, a friend. And unfortunately, I’m not returnable, so you’re stuck with me Curtis.”

And Darry couldn’t stop himself from smiling, and nodding.

Huh, maybe he is an angel.

[solitaire-addict]

A deep dive into Solitaire, its Characters and Relationships

Solitaire is a deep, complex and entertaining book. Once opened, it becomes very hard to put down and it is the type of book you would read multiple times, listen to the audiobook version, and create a blog fully dedicated to. Solitaire has that kind of seasonal feel like when it snows for the first time and your feet are cold no matter how many blankets you put on or you’re nose keeps running because you’re outside waiting for someone to come pick you up and you’re putting your hands in fists because they might just freeze off. Solitaire isn't romanticized winter, it's the gross parts that make people hate the cold seasons but you still like them because it still has a nice feeling to it, even though it may be the end of you. Personally I have read solitaire in every season but Solitaire can't be beat in January, when everyone is stupid depressed and there isn't a point to living anymore.

 Victoria (Tori) Spring portrays this deep depression and bitter feeling that everyone feels at some point and she is the embodiment of the term “pessimistic complex”. While being a relatable character to everyone, I've found that she really strikes a chord with the Asexual/Aromantic community. In recent events, it has become canon that she is Asexual and most suspect she is on the Aromantic spectrum which seems reasonable due to her behavior around one Micheal Holden. Micheal Holden, who is Tori’s friend and co-investigator in the Solitaire mystery, is (at first glance) an upbeat and strange character. Micheal holds the role of curious, and a bit mysterious and his and Tori’s friendship forms from the fact that they both got curious and did the exact same thing. In many ways, these two are very similar and when thrown together by some force, Tori ignores this and uses some freakish defense mechanism that (to anyone else) would drive away the opposing force, however, Micheal is not an opposing force, or any kind of force for that matter. He’s just a guy who happens to be a little strange and who ice skates and is secretly mad all the time. When Tori and Micheal first interact, Tori does not in any way want to talk to this guy, in fact i bet she would rather have thrown herself out the nearest window than exchange more than two sentences at once. Michel wants to be friends with Tori, so much so that he will not stop showing up out of nowhere even if he doesn't mean to. Keep in mind that Micheal has no friends and Tori has one friend and that isn't even going well.

 Becky (who has been Tori’s best and only friend for quite a while) is popular. Not in the sense that everyone knows her, more so that everyone knows of her and a couple extending details, this leaves her feeling alone in the world and her only support is Tori, who frankly, is not doing well in the slightest. And of course they’re drifting, not quickly but over time, like a call that gets worse in audio quality over time. When Becky seeks support from Tori and wants to share things with her, Tori is disengaged, I'm sure she doesn't mean it but that still sucks when you’re the one who needs to talk. There are many versions of the book and in the first one when Becky tells Tori that she just had sex with her almost boyfriend. Tori is disappointed, she even goes on to say that it made her respect Becky more for being a virgin up until now. Now remember that the first addition of this book was released in the early 2010’s so it's a bit desensitized and there are probably better words to put it other than not respecting her as much anymore but it's still a good example of Tori’s distance and self isolation from the rest of her public life, which brings us back to her relatable self destructive tendencies. 

When with Micheal, Tori continuously keeps him locked out of her life. When Micheal tells her that he wants to be friends, Tori goes on a tangent about how she doesnt know why he wants to be friends and says “i'm not some manically depressed psychopath” and they get into a fight that ends with michael saying “well maybe you are a manically depressed psychopath” and everyone ever is disappointed because Tori cant let people care about her. There's a point where Tori and Micheal finally accept each other as people and decide not to question one another, they both care and they both are okay with that, Micheal is there when Tori needs him and Tori is there when Micheal needs her, it's one of the most beautiful things and their friendship and care for eachother is deep and true and it's my favorite thing in the universe. When Tori is about to get killed by a firework, when she's literally standing on the edge of death, when she's sat at home after Charlie's relapse Micheal Holden is there. Micheals constant anger has noticeably taken a toll on him and he has said “i'm always angry, other emotions just overrule it” he means that Tori’s presence is the emotion that overrules, not in a cheesy love story way but in the way that when you’re having a bad day and then you go home to your bed and take an advil and drink some water, it makes you feel better. Tori is Micheals bed, Advil and water, no matter how cold the bed is, or how gross the Advil is or how unfiltered the water is. She’s still there, overriding the constantly lingering aggravation with himself. When Tori’s about to kill herself, Michael is there to save her, pull her back into reality and even though Tori isn't okay in the slightest afterwards, Micheal is still there, and they still care, even if the water is muddy.

 In between the 4 month gap between Solitaire and Heartstopper, nothing is technically canon on what happens between them but 4 months later Micheal has proposed the idea that they confirm their relationship status as girlfriend and boyfriend and this scared Tori. Not because she doesn't like him in that way, but because she doesn't want him to get bored of her. Along with Tori’s asexuality being confirmed, it's also confirmed that Tori and Micheal had sex and Tori was sent a confirmation email for her ticket for the asexual train. Charlie and Tori’s conversation about this is very touching, Charlie brings up that he once said that if Nick never wanted to have sex with him, he wouldn't want to either and it wouldn't change how he felt about Nick in any way. This is an example of why Asexuals FLOCK to Alice Osemans writing, it focuses on the emotional connection between characters, not the sex and tension between them. Charlie reassures Tori that Micheal will understand and he most definitely will not get bored of her (considering that they canonically stay together for at least like 10 more years) Tori’s fear of a labeled relationship is an important factor within the idea that Tori is on the Aromantic spectrum, as an aromantic person, when a relationship that I’m in is labeled, it stresses me out. It creates this internal fear of commitment and that might be what Tori is experiencing. At the end of the page, Tori and Micheal are shown talking probably about her being asexual. My hopes are that Tori and Michaels relationship remains unlabeled because it's very important that different types of queer relationships are shown in mainstream media, especially ones that aren't labeled or inside queer norms. There's nothing like queer erasure from other queer people.

[rocicrew]

clarissa mao !!

send me a character and i’ll list

favorite thing about them

she's the definition of poor little meow meow. i love her complexities and flaws. she's a rich spoiled heiress, she has enormous family issues. she tried to kill the family she would die for. redemption arcs in my opinion are not always well written but clarissa's does it for me.

she doesn't shy away from the fact that she has done terrible things for selfish reasons (when you look at it in the grand scheme of things). and while the way her father treated her explains her motivations, they are not excused by it. it is her who decides the person she was is gone, and she's going to spend her second chance making up for the things she'd done. it's honest and raw, and her arc shows that people do improve and change when they receive external support and build meaningful relations. while at the same time it says, some things cannot be amended. you can never bring someone back, but you can try to be good.

she is the subversion of the redemption achieved by one last good Deed or Sacrifice. by the time that happens, she's made peace with herself, with the consequences of her actions and it is a choice for the people she loves while she stops delaying the unavoidable.

least favorite thing about them

i find the lack of not revisiting her complicated relationship with julie a Crime. what do you mean after fighting alongside and joining the crew that found her sister, she would not understand her sister's motivation or want some closure re her death?

(tv wise: girl you Have the worst timing in s6. holden is falling asleep on the railing and you think ah a great time to revisit the horrible acts i did to kill him)

(additional sidenote: nothing more meaningful comes to mind at the moment, at least not something i can articulate well so...)

favorite line

Which meant Naomi had misunderstood. Clarissa had meant, I'm not afraid.

10000000/10 on the pain scale this line continues to haunt me. what an epilogue for her im-

(also her exchange with erich on the shuttle about letting people in their tribes without demanding that they prove they need them, and ending it with her prison sentence,,,,,,,,,, i'm rolling on the floor each time)

brOTP

is there any other answer between clarissa and amos ? i personally cannot see their relations as anything other than platonic with deep devotion. they saw each other's worst parts and decided there's good in there even if they can't quite see it in their own selves at times.

they're mirrors but also kind of foils at the same time ?? amos is never afraid while clarissa is all the time,,, let's not be monsters together,, i want to be there in your last moments,,, ah yeahh

OTP

i do not truly ship her with anyone. i can speculate about romantic dynamics, but it's not super far in the Shipping category. i do think she and bobbie would make out in the roci tho

nOTP

is kind of answered in the previous two ? i do not see her and amos' relationship being romantic (except maybe in the roci polycule kind of thing, which i'm still more drawn to the idea of her and bobbie or a complicated relationship with naomi)

random headcanon

i'm not sure how random it is, because it is a nickname she has in canon. but i personally hc that the roci crew over time begins to call her claire after babylon's ashes. peaches is primarily amos' nickname for her and it feels a step too far to use it. so claire is still a way to signal her new path.

i also believe she's a lesbian tbh

unpopular opinion

i have not seen too many opinions on her. i know a lot of people were put off of her in s3, (i have to say she grew on me later as well) but i can now say that she was Unhinged (in a compliment way)

also i think that there's a tendency for her to be portrayed a bit meek in the time after she's joined the roci crew which is the last way i'd personally describe her. she's quiet and reserved, yes, insecure about her place in that family, but she's also blunt and takes risks and has been shown to be incredibly intelligent and capable. and i think it takes away from her character with all her flaws.

song i associate with them

nothing comes to mind rn, i am also terrible at this kind of associations. always one or two lyrics throw me off.

favorite picture of them

the scene she's introduced, first up close and then the shot of her from behind with the navigation map of the maintenance shutte does thinks to the gifmaker side of me (if only the lighting wasn't so yellow)

[hollybell51]

In this timeline

Navigation

Trevor Holden (0115) x Philip Pearson (3326)

Travelers (2016)

Word count: 11.5K

Summary: Philip has made some bad decisions. This isn't one of them.

Content: Smut, hurt/comfort, bit of fluff (I guess?), Philip is horrendously down bad, Trevor is too, making out, hickeys, hand jobs, blow jobs, anal, fingering, dirty talk (like a tiny bit dw), Trevor calls Philip "man" during sex, top Trevor/bottom Philip in an attempt to avoid Trevor's accidental twinkification (I fear this may have backfired), (there are honestly switchy moments too so idk if I'd label it as anything other than a healthy flexible dynamic), Philip's hallucinations, the age gape is mentioned but just in passing, implied/referenced drug use (guys c'mon it's Philip), everything canon typical. This takes place after s3 e3. I may have missed some things so lemme know if I should add anything xx

Notes: Happy valentines day! What even was season 3 honestly these two are so fucking whipped for each other it's stupid. How can anyone look at them and see anything but a married couple who are deeply, disgustingly in love with each other. Honestly. I'm so upset that this got cancelled (even though I lowkey liked the ending) so my insufferable ass is probably gonna deal with that through taking matters into my own hands. Also side note this is the first time I've posted m/m so don't be too mean I actually don't really know how men work so... yeah. Shit's been rough lately, breakup and car crash in the space of two days so I actually haven't proofread this sorry (there might be mistakes but that's ok because to err to be human <3) and also I’m literally a (queer) girl and I know nothing about gay (man) sex and it shows. You have been warned.

Philip had woken that morning (morning? Or afternoon? He can’t remember. It doesn’t feel like it had been morning when he’d finally swum up out of Marcy’s sedative) with Trevor in his bed. Well, it wasn’t Trevor, not really, but it was still nice. Not Trevor was smiling at him, wriggling closer, his hand finding Philip’s and pulling it towards his chest. Philip had blinked and he had shimmered, dispersed into light, reformed. He’d blinked again and Not Trevor was gone, and then the real world was flooding in and he half wished he hadn’t woken up at all. 

It’s been happening more and more often lately. Philip looks up from the computer screens and Not Trevor is already smiling at him. Not Trevor interrupts him with a kiss as he walks past. Not Trevor pads barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist out of the bathroom and winks as Philip watches him go. Philip kneels next to the couch to pick up a ball bearing he’d knocked off the table from under its edge and when he looks up Not Trevor’s legs are either side of him and he has his head tilted back, shirt discarded and he’s panting hard. Philip has no doubt what that particular version of himself had just been doing. On the flip side, he pushes his chair back to take a break and Not Trevor grins up at him from between his legs, he leans over Philip from behind and slides his hand down his front, braces himself against the shower wall, tells Philip to turn around and get on his hands and knees and a million other things and Philip curses the update because none of those images are ever going to leave his head. 

Philip’s not too proud to admit when he likes someone. He’s human, after all, even if some days he doesn’t feel it, and Trevor is beautiful. It’s not just his host, either, although it probably helps to have been blessed looking like that, but there’s something about what 0115 and Trevor Holden have become — Philip’s Trevor, the team’s Trevor, 0115’s own Trevor — that pulls Philip in like a magnet. His joy is addictive. His enthusiasm for life, while it sometimes grates on Philip’s considerably less enthusiastic nerves, is infectious and maybe what people say about opposites attracting each other is right. Not even opposites, really — Philip doesn’t think they’re opposites, but he knows they’re not so-called twin flames — but something about Trevor balancing Philip. Pulling him out of those particularly dark little holes he knows it’s all too easy to get stuck in. Hell, he fell into one last night.

So Philip’s been peeking into other timelines and it’s been fueling the Trevor thing and now he’s waking up and half wishing that what he’s seeing is real. He wants to reach out and grab Trevor and never let go. He wants to stay in this bed with him and never have to do another mission again and just be and let humanity save itself. But, he tells himself firmly as he swings his legs over the side of the mattress and pauses, letting his body stabilise and adjust, that is not going to happen. No amount of wishing will make it. 

Carly and Marcy have explained, as best they can, and he really does feel bad for pulling that kind of shit when they’re all under stress, when nothing feels like it’s going right for anyone and they all have their own bullshit to deal with (he knows all about that, thanks to the update), but Aleksander’s face is still on the computer screens and Philip also knows Mac and Trevor will follow through. And that is where his brain snags for the second time today. Trevor, who found him on the floor and called Marcy over, “panicked” is the word the medic used, and then took off to kill a kid — to help Mac kill a kid. Trevor has faith in the Director, in the Grand Plan, Philip knows that as well as anyone, but he still cringes at the thought of what his roommate — because calling Trevor friend doesn’t quite feel right when he’s seen what he looks like when Philip is not going to complete that thought, they’re past coworkers, and he doesn’t feel like the other guy’s teammate anymore — must be thinking and feeling and doing right now. 

But then, after a few hours of Marcy and Carly doing their best to help him and Philip doing his best not to scream or break something or walk out the door and never come back, the Messenger comes through and just like that it’s all ok again. Marcy and Carly are relieved. Philip is relieved. A massive weight has been lifted off all their shoulders, so why does he still feel so heavy? 

He walks through erasing Mac’s memory like he’s walking through a dream, manages not to stare too long at the insubstantial vision of Trevor’s hand on his knee as they take their leader back to his house and (not uncarefully) deposit him in his bed. They leave. They drive back to ops. Marcy asks if he’s alright and he nods, doesn’t miss the way she says something too quiet to make out to Trevor as she heads back to David. Carly stays for longer, cleans a gun, then makes her exit with a firm hand on Philip’s shoulder and a tight smile. Then they’re alone, and Philip is staring at the screen with a cup of something (he thinks it might be tea, but it’s not hot anymore) he doesn’t remember getting in his hand.  

He doesn’t even hear Trevor approach until the engineer sighs, settling himself next to Philip’s shoulder. 

“The mother even speaks Romanian,” he says, steaming mug cradled in his hands. 

Philip glances at him and he shrugs. “Well that’s great, I’m obviously happy about that.” And he is, he really is. The woman smiling in the photograph looks like a kind person. She doesn’t have the sharpness about her eyes that Aleksander’s previous foster parents did, and maybe the familiarity of the language will help. He knows it did when they rescued the boy in the first place. The word rescue, even just in his mind, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He could have avoided the whole mission — putting Trevor and Mac through that — if he’d just stuck to what he was supposed to. There’s no way that this wasn’t some sick lesson. But still… “Why didn’t we start there?”

Trevor pauses before he answers, eyes still locked on the computer screen, brow furrowed. “That wasn’t the path he was on.” 

Sometimes Philip forgets how old Trevor — 0115 — is. He doesn’t act like an old man, as much as the others (Philip included) call him that and joke about it, as much as Trevor himself is open and just as willing to talk about the fact. But there are moments like these when Philip can see 0115’s plural lifetimes of experience and knowledge and wisdom poking through that barely adult face, and it catches him off guard. He’s not put off by Trevor’s age, Truth be told, he’s not sure if anything could put him off Trevor, but it can still be a little unnerving. 

“You don’t need to explain that part to me.” Philip tries not to sound annoyed, because he isn’t. Not really. “What I'm asking you is why we didn’t get a mission to change his path in the first place.” 

Again, Trevor shrugs, and on anyone else the gesture would look flippant. Not him, though. Nothing’s ever flippant with Trevor unless he wants it to be. “Maybe we did. The Director has to thread the needle on billions of possibilities happening to billions of people in a billion different places all over the world. If it seems hard to understand the steps that lead to a particular outcome, it’s because it’s literally impossible for any of us to understand that.” 

Philip can feel Trevor’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look up. “I hate that.” 

There’s a pause, and he feels Trevor shift infinitesimally closer. “Yeah,” he says. “But you can’t argue with the results.” 

This time Philip does raise his eyes from the screen, turning in his chair to face his roommate. The other guy is perched on a filing cabinet, and Philip has the distinct urge to tell him to just get a chair. He looks a little ridiculous; elbows on his knees, feet resting against the desk (he really wants to tell him to get a chair), cup in his hands and that look that’s so sincere he’d laugh if he saw it on anyone else. It’s so… him and Philip can’t look away. 

Trevor sighs, leans forward and sets down his cup, his feet slipping off the desk as he twists to face Philip. “It wasn’t your fault,” he tells him. 

Philip shakes his head, looking away. He wishes he could believe Trevor, wishes he had just an ounce of his conviction. “It was. By definition, Trevor.” 

“You were trying to save him.” 

“And I made things worse. The Director was teaching me a lesson, I know it was. I know… I know I shouldn’t have tried to interfere.” 

“Hey, hey.” Trevor’s hand is firm and warm on Philip’s shoulder. “You tried to do what you thought was right. And yeah, it didn’t really work out, but it’s in the past. We can’t change that.” He stops, as if realising the irony of his words, then, “Nobody blames you, Philip.” 

“They should.” I do. 

Trevor is close enough that Philip can see the evening sun gilding the tips of his eyelashes, and his voice is so gentle it hurts. “What good is it gonna do now, huh? How is holding onto all that shit and dishing out blame and responsibility gonna help anyone?” 

Philip doesn’t have an answer for that, but he’s not sure if that matters. Not sure if he could speak even if he wanted to, because Trevor is still touching him and Philip must have slid his chair closer because he doesn’t remember the gap between them being this small. Trevor is searching Philip’s face, and he can practically see the cogs ticking behind his eyes — which, up close, never fail to suck Philip’s focus like a vacuum. 

“It’s not your fault. It was never going to be your fault, Philip.”

Philip swallows hard, tongue darting out over his lips. It’s too quiet and too loud all at once, and he wants to look away and he never wants the moment to end. The world is blurry, all he can see is Trevor, his skin is too tight and Trevor’s simultaneously too close and not close enough and then he is leaning the last few inches and all Philip can think is that this has to be another timeline. Things like this don’t happen to him, at least not this him, and—

Oh. Oh. 

Trevor’s lips are soft against his own, the hand that had been resting on his shoulder sliding up to hover almost hesitantly at his jaw. Philip can feel his own heart beating at a million mph, his blood rushing in his ears, and without even realising it he’s kissing Trevor back, tilting his head and pressing closer, Trevor’s skin so warm against his. 

The thing about what Philip sees — hallucinations, illusions, visions, whatever he calls them — is that he doesn’t feel it. He didn’t process the warmth of Not Trevor’s hand when it had been resting on his leg in the car or against his own that morning. He hadn’t felt the press of Not Trevor’s shoulders between his thighs, hadn’t felt the rush of breath over his skin when Not Trevor had laughed and kissed his cheek. And he certainly hadn’t felt the slick softness of Not Trevor’s tongue brushing over his lip. 

Oh, is all Philip can think again as he lets Trevor part his lips, the barest hint of his tongue sliding against his. A question. A warning. A test. Of course, the answer is yes. Philip knows in his soul that the answer will always be yes for Trevor, no matter what timeline they’re in. He feels himself sinking, floating, and when he pushes back against Trevor and slips his own tongue into his mouth, he can taste the tea he was drinking. Trevor is warm and sweet and Philip has never tasted anything so good and now his hand is moving, fingers tangling in Philip’s hair and if it weren’t for the rushing in his ears he could have sworn that Trevor gives a pleased little hum.  

Philip wants to stand, wants to crowd closer and take Trevor’s face between his hands, stand between his legs and feel the press of his body against his own. He wants to feel Trevor’s skin on his, wants him under him and on top of him and everywhere he can think of. He’s pretty sure that Trevor’s knee is blocking him from getting any closer, that and the fact that he’s still sitting in his chair. 

So, as much as it pains him to do so, Philip pulls back from Trevor’s mouth and pauses, heart still thundering, breathing hard, and looks at him. Trevor’s lips are kiss swollen and still parted, his eyes dark and locked on Philip and Philip alone. His hand doesn’t leave Philip’s hair, thumb moving in a tiny arc over the skin under his ear and he knows that even if he wasn’t a Historian, even if he wasn’t hardwired to remember everything, this moment would be ingrained in his brain forever. 

“Are you…?” Trevor starts, watching as Philip pushes himself to stand, his eyes following his every move, head tipping back. He wavers, and for a moment he’s shirtless and sweaty and his cheeks are flushed pink. Not Trevor tilts his head to the side, teeth digging into his bottom lip, and Philip blinks. His Trevor is still watching him, a hint of concern marring his face. 

Philip just nods, watching Trevor’s hand trail down over his chest, coming to rest right over his heart. He wonders if he can feel how hard it’s beating. He looks so serious and sincere, and Philip still can’t believe that this isn’t just because of the update. This is real. This is happening here and now. 

“Philip,” Trevor murmurs, voice thick. God, Philip could listen to that all day. 

He dips his head, and he’s sure that Trevor is smiling as their lips meet again. Philip is painfully aware of where his legs aren’t quite touching him, just resting either side of his hips, but that doesn’t matter because Trevor’s hand is sliding down his torso to sit feather light on his hip, not quite on the waistband of his pants but close enough that Philip feels blood rushing quickly downwards. He places  his own hands firmly either side of Trevor’s face, feels the muscle there twitch momentarily, the mechanism of Trevor’s neck and jaw sliding smoothly like well oiled machinery as he kisses him deeper, harder. His fingers curve perfectly around the back of Trevor’s neck, and this time he’s sure when he hears the little sound slip from the engineer, muffled by his own tongue. It is going to drive Philip insane. Trevor is going to drive him insane. He already is. 

“Philip,” Trevor says again, and Philip really can’t help but push closer. The edge of the filing cabinet is hard against his thighs, the metal cold through his jeans and somehow that is what brings Philip’s spiralling, out of control, too-much-too-fast brain back to the present. And then it clicks, and a stone sinks deep in his stomach. Trevor is distracting him, taking his mind off a truly terrible day because Philip did something stupid last night and Trevor found him this morning. He breaks away, breathing hard for an entirely different reason now. 

Trevor’s hands stop him from going far, his eyebrows furrowing into that familiar concerned frown. “You alright?” 

“I…” Philip stops, takes a breath, swallows. Yes, he’s alright. He’s more than alright with Trevor kissing him, with kissing Trevor. But here and now… Philip isn’t sure how to voice that. He knows Trevor wouldn’t judge him, not after Jenny. Trevor isn’t someone from the 21st, where sex is currency and intimacy is a completely separate thing. Trevor, like most from their time, knows that there’s more to it than that, he knows about Jenny because Philip has told him about Jenny and that whole mess and he trusts Trevor not to ignore all that. But…

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Trevor says, and Philip unfreezes. “I didn’t think it through. I know it’s been rough, and I don’t wanna rush you or—” 

“Are you trying to distract me?” 

Trevor stops, his frown deepens and he shakes his head. “Not really. Maybe a little.” He sighs. “I mean, I didn’t kiss you to distract you. But if I am… is that a bad thing?” He takes a deep breath, his fingers curling on Philip’s hip. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“I don’t…” He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to make of that. It’s not what he wants to hear, but it's not what he doesn’t want to hear either. Truth be told, he doesn’t even know what that is. All he knows is that Trevor means more than 21st century sex and he is in way too deep here. 

Philip does not consider himself brave. He knows people in the future who would say he is just for being here now, but the truth is, they don’t know what they’re talking about. He is not brave, he simply exists. He is a piece in a machine and there is nothing brave about that. But this is different. This is Trevor, and Trevor has always made Philip feel like more than that. Like he’s a person, and more importantly, like that person is worth something. And no, Philip doesn’t want Trevor to stop. He would be happy to live in this moment forever, and that’s the problem. Philip swallows. He will be brave. 

“I don’t want you to be a distraction.” 

Trevor draws back, a tiny wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “What do you want me to be?”

Philip almost curses, swallows again, looks at his hands. “I want you to be you. You… You mean something to me, Trevor. I want this to mean something.” 

Philip isn’t brave enough to look back at Trevor, but he doesn’t have to be. The other guy’s hand is on his cheek, tilting his face back towards his, and when their eyes meet all Philip can see is the familiar warmth and understanding and joy that Trevor somehow carries within himself no matter what. “It does,” Trevor whispers, and kisses Philip again. 

This kiss tastes different. It has to, Philip supposes as Trevor inches forward on his perch, gripping his shoulders, his arms, his waist, his hips. Trevor really does mean something to Philip, more than he ever would have guessed he could. It’s not because of the visions, and it’s not because Trevor is kissing him now. It’s everything else. It’s Trevor bringing Philip a fastfood meal after he’d been shot. It’s the wordless hands on his shoulders when he’s the first to arrive at the garage and the last to leave. It’s the undiluted wonder and awe in his face when he looks outside. It’s the insistence that he’ll come with Philip, even if it’s because he doesn’t fully trust him — because whatever the reason, Philip likes that he doesn’t feel alone. The reminders that Philip is human, just as human as Trevor, because sometimes that is the hardest thing to remember. 

And Philip really does feel like shit for this morning. For last night, when he’d seen the mission come through and he’d sat there, frozen, and debated calling out Trevor’s name just to see another face and hear his voice, feel another person touch him and remember. But he hadn’t been brave last night. He’d run, and had left Trevor to find and clean up the mess he’d made. He feels his chest tearing apart, ripping violently right down the middle. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, tearing himself away from Trevor’s mouth. 

“What for?” Trevor frowns. 

Philip swallows. “Last night. This morning. All of… that.” 

The understanding is so clear in Trevor’s eyes, followed quickly by sadness that hits Philip like a punch. It resolves and shifts, and Trevor’s lips twitch into something that could be called a smile. “You scared me,” he says. 

“I know. I didn’t mean to.” An eyebrow raise at this, and Philip goes on, “I wasn’t trying to. I just… I don’t even know. I was going to tell you when it first came through but I just… I just couldn’t. You know?” 

Trevor nods, and Philip knows he means it. This is the guy who interrupted Grace Day’s TELL, for God’s sake. He doesn’t blame Philip for Aleksander. Things might get murky and complicated sometimes, but at the end of the day Trevor understands when it matters. “I wish you had,” he tells him. There’s no blame or resentment in it, just a statement of fact. “We could have worked something out together.” 

Now it’s Philip’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Worked something out?” 

“Ok,” Trevor concedes, “maybe not work something out. But you didn’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be alone, Philip. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” 

It’s so much. It’s too much, and Philip is too heavy for this. So he just nods, watches as Trevor slides off the filing cabinet and stands before him. Philip lets him put his hands on his face and can’t stop himself from leaning into the touch. It doesn’t matter how small it makes him feel. Doesn’t matter that Trevor’s breath hitches in his chest when Philip keeps going and kisses him again, doesn’t matter that he can’t even begin to express what’s swirling in his update-addled, over-full and under-nourished brain right now. They’ve got time. Philip can untangle it all later. 

He pulls Trevor closer, so close he wonders if he can feel the beating of his heart against his own. He can feel his breathing, the expansion and contraction of his lungs and the rush of air on his cheek, the heat of his body and oh, yeah, ok, Trevor’s hard. The thought of that alone has Philip aching, hips pressing into Trevor’s, their jeans hard and rough between them. Something just this side of a moan slips from Philip as Trevor presses back, his hands once more finding Philip’s hair and commanding him to kiss him harder, kiss him longer, kiss him deeper. Philip is only too happy to oblige.

Trevor hums into his mouth as Philip reaches between them, fingers skirting the hem of his shirt. Trevor gives him an insistent nudge and that’s all Philip needs to slide his hand under the fabric, run it over the hot skin of his hip and the planes of his stomach, bunching his shirt up like it’s nothing. Philip wants to map out every cell of Trevor’s body, commit every curve and dip and hollow to memory like he’s memorised every TELL and candidate and major event. He passes his hand over Trevor’s ribs, up the centre of his abdomen, higher to his sternum and back down again to grip his waist. Touching him isn’t enough. Philip needs this man. 

Trevor’s grip on his hair tightens momentarily when Philip’s lips move from his own to his jaw, down the column of his neck. These kisses are wet, open mouthed, not quite careless but hardly neat, and if he goes any harder he’s going to leave marks. He isn’t sure if that’s something Trevor wants, but the other man’s head is tilted to let Philip continue, so he sucks — oh so lightly — at the spot where neck and shoulder meet. 

“Fuck,” Trevor hisses, fingers curling, hips grinding against Philip’s. Philip can literally feel his brain emptying of all thought except that he needs to make Trevor do that again. 

“Hm?” he asks, just in case (just in case what? He doesn’t know), and Trevor nods. So Philip does the only rational thing and sucks again, moves his head and does it to another spot, and now that he can see the darker patches of skin on Trevor’s neck, he never wants to stop. 

“Philip,” Trevor whispers, voice cracking. His throat moves as he swallows, hard, and Philip pointedly grazes the spot with his teeth. He tastes like the cheap soap they keep in the bathroom, and even though it’s the same one Philip uses day in day out, on Trevor’s skin and up this close it is somehow more. It’s Trevor, and Philip isn’t sure he’s ever going to be able to casually use the stuff again without this moment flooding his overly accurate historian brain. As desperate and insane as he knows the thought is, even as he has it, Philip wants to lick every trace of that soap off Trevor. But his shirt is still bunched around his chest and Philip can only reach so much of his skin around it. 

“Off,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to see Trevor’s tongue dart over his lip, his eyes dark.

His voice is husky and raw when he speaks. “You too.” 

“Here?” The realisation that they’re still at the desk seems to strike Trevor the same moment that Philip fully processes it, eyes darting around the room. 

After a moment, Trevor shakes his head. “No,” he says, untangling himself from Philip enough to take his hand. “No, come on.”

Philip has never been led into his own bedroom. He’s never watched someone else’s hand pull at his, met someone else’s eyes over their shoulder, stumbled to keep up with someone else through his own door. Never been pulled onto his bed by someone else. He’s been pushed, which was exciting and fun and hot at the time, and he’s done the leading, and the looking back and the steadying at the inevitable stumble, but this is new. If Philip is completely honest, it’s a little unnerving. 

But then Trevor is facing him, reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head and all Philip can think is holy shit because all that football pays off. Trevor’s mouth curves as he steps towards him, like he knows exactly what Philip is thinking. Which wouldn’t be that hard, since Philip isn’t exactly trying to keep a straight face. 

“You tryna catch flies, Philip?” Trevor asks him, and Philip feels his cheeks heat. He hadn’t even realised his mouth was open. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, eyes locked firmly on Trevor’s face. His smile. The collection of red marks dotting his neck. 

Trevor just shakes his head, stepping closer. “Don’t be.” His hands settle on the hem of Philip’s own shirt, his fingers barely brushing Philip’s skin. “But,” he goes on, “this isn’t fair.” 

“Oh, fair,” Philip echoes, raising his eyebrows. But he’s already taking over from Trevor, shrugging off the shirt and dropping it like it’s nothing (and it isn’t really, not when he has Trevor standing before him like this). “Better?” he asks. 

Trevor looks away from his face, and Philip can almost physically feel his eyes sliding over his torso, stopping at his chest, lifting back to his face and gleaming with something that he can only describe as incredulous excitement. “What’s that?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Piercing.” Because that’s what Trevor’s looking at, and if Philip’s completely honest, he feels a little… proud? He’d had his doubts when he’d first discovered the ring through his nipple, and had been more confused by it than he had by the ear and nose piercings. He can understand jewellery where people are going to see it. He’d done his research on piercings and tattoos outside of the training on 21st century behaviour they’d all taken, at the same time as he’d taken a deep dive into tattoo symbolism (he’d been suddenly consumed by the fear that his host’s tattoos meant something he should know about, which hadn’t really been the case but Philip still thought that it was better to know than not). He hadn’t found much to convince him that the solitary ring through his nipple of all places was a particularly groundbreaking way to modify the body, but now… Now he thinks he might get it. 

Trevor is shaking his head, eyes still glued to the little piece of metal. “That’s so…” 

“Weird?” 

“No, it’s—” He stops, laughs, grins at Philip. “It’s really hot.” 

Philip can feel his eyebrows shooting up his face. “You think?” 

“Yeah, I… I don’t know why.” 

“Oh, ok.” That’s… unexpected. Philip knows that his host isn’t bad to look at, and he knows that some of the reasoning behind piercings is for attractiveness. He’s studied the face that he now calls his in the mirror a thousand times, he sees the body that he now inhabits every day and as far as 21st century guys in their late twenties go, it’s really not bad. Of course, there are the track marks and the occasional (lately more frequent) shadows under his eyes, stubble if it’s been a particularly rough few days (Trevor’s newly almost-permanent presence helps with that, even if he doesn’t know it), but hey, if Trevor’s standing here right now he knows he’s got something going for him. But the look in the engineer’s eyes when they meet Philip’s again makes him feel like a damn artwork. 

Trevor’s grin broadens, and before Philip can even begin to reconcile what that’s doing to him Trevor’s lips are on his once more and he’s being pulled hard against him, skin to skin, heart to heart, Trevor’s hands roaming over his shoulders and his back and his waist and his ribs and his chest and Philip is moaning into the kiss like… he doesn’t even know what. 

They’re moving, almost tripping over each other and it’s a miracle either of them can keep their balance, but then Trevor’s knees hit the edge of the bed and they’re half falling onto it, a little uncoordinated but does that really matter when Trevor is still pulling Philip close, smiling even as his tongue dances alongside Philip’s? He’s all too aware of where his body is, where his leg presses between Trevor’s and his arm is locked, holding his weight off the other man. 

Trevor, however, has both hands free. Gooseflesh prickles across Philip’s chest and stomach as he trails his hands over his body, electricity sparking when his fingers skirt the waistband of his pants. He feels Trevor smile again, and his breath hitches in his throat. Shit, he’s never going to be able to kiss anyone else again. He doesn’t even want to kiss anyone else. Ever. 

“Do you want this?” Trevor murmurs against his lips, the tips of his fingers just dipping below his waistband and oh fuck he hadn’t realised just how badly he wanted that. 

Philip nods, then groans when Trevor palms him because even through his pants his hand is a million times better than his own. The other guy curses, does it again, and Philip’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. His eyes are dark and sincere, flicking between Philip’s own and where his fingers are curling gently around his clothed cock. 

“Can I?” Trevor asks. Philip has never nodded faster. He’s not even entirely sure what Trevor’s getting at, but he’s happy to let him touch him however he wants, wherever he wants, and he trusts him completely. Of course he already knew that — you kind of have to trust your team, after all — but he’s only just realising that he’s trusted Trevor as more than a team member for quite some time. Probably right alongside everything else that’s become more than a team member with Trevor. 

Philip isn’t wasting time philosophising, his attention fixed firmly on Trevor’s hand which is back at his pants and oh that’s what he meant. He helps out, shoving his pants down and off with less grace than he’d like, underwear following suit. The air is cool on his hot skin, and for a moment he feels oddly exposed. Then Trevor is pushing at his hip, tongue darting over his lips again and there’s almost an urgency to his movements. 

“C’mon, just— Hold on a second—” he says, still attempting to manoeuvre Philip. 

He almost laughs at his eagerness. “Trev, give me a second, man. What’re you tryna do?” 

Trevor pauses, his thumb running in a tiny arc over Philip’s hip bone — he’s not sure if he’s even doing it consciously. “Swap.” He nods to the mattress, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is and Philip’s just lagging behind. 

“Oh, ok.” He shrugs, half climbing and half rolling sideways. “You could’ve just said that.” 

“Yeah, I know, I…” He sighs, rubs a hand over his forehead. “I keep getting caught up. Sorry.” 

Trevor getting caught up in him? In Philip? He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just shrugs again. “I’m that irresistible, huh?” 

The look Trevor shoots him is anything but joking. “You have no idea.” 

Philip opens his mouth, shuts it, shakes his head in awe. Who would have thought? “C’mere,” he tells Trevor softly, and the gravity is lifted as he smiles and practically bounces down beside him, pressing his lips to Philip’s. They’re getting better at this. Not that they were bad, of course, but they fall into the easy rhythm of each other much more quickly now. There’s no fumbling or searching or exploring, it’s familiar and Philip never wants that to end. 

Trevor’s hand is resting on Philip’s chest, warm and firm and now Philip is sure he can feel how hard his heart is beating. He stretches up, chasing Trevor as the other guy pulls away, but he can only do so much. Trevor smiles and gives him another quick kiss, almost chaste, the kind that Philip definitely doesn’t imagine he’d give him when their day to day paths cross in the garage. When he leaves to get food. When he comes back again. 

But that thought is wiped away before Philip’s mind can snag on it, because Trevor is spitting into his palm and wrapping his fingers around Philip’s dick, gentle and slick and warm and Philip curses softly. It’s almost almost perfect. 

“Like this?” Trevor asks, eyes fixed on his face. 

Philip swallows. His voice sounds odd even to his own ears, husky and strangled. “Uh, little harder.” 

Trevor squeezes, and it’s all Philip can do not to fall apart right there as his grip tightens and his hand moves. “This?” 

He feels the breath catch in his throat. “Yeah. Fuck Trev, that’s perfect.” And it is. It really is. There’s only so much his mind can come up with, he thinks as he takes in Trevor’s strong arm and large hand moving rhythmically over him, feels the heat of his body where it presses against his own and listens to Trevor’s breathing and soft hum of appreciation in response to his own moan. No matter what the update lets him see, no matter what he manages to dream up by himself, it won’t compare to this. 

Trevor is leaning closer, and Philip shivers as his breath hushes over the skin of his shoulder, his neck, then practically gasps as Trevor kisses the hollow under his jaw. He makes to turn his head, meet the other guy half way, but Trevor doesn’t let him. He kisses his jaw again, nudging him away and Philip just lets him. He even turns his face, just a little, but Trevor notices and his chuckle sends molten heat shooting straight down his spine. Trevor’s lips are moving, up over the muscle of his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin. Philip gets it now, and then Trevor is whispering “this ok?” and he’s nodding (how could it not be?). 

“Fuck,” he breathes as Trevor sucks at the spot, and Philip really gets it. It’s not like hickeys are foreign to him, but this is something else altogether. Trevor’s hand is still moving firmly on his cock, maybe a little slower than he himself would go but damn is it good, and now he’s working his way down Philip’s neck to his chest. The tiny burst of almost-pain followed by the soft heat of Trevor’s tongue has Philip arching towards him, hips jutting shamelessly into his hand as he does his best to stop the embarrassingly desperate sounds he’s on the verge of making from escaping him. 

“Philip,” Trevor murmurs to his clavicle. 

“Hm?” Philip answers, lifting his head enough to meet his gaze. He half wishes he didn’t, another blazing hot spark of pure need rushing through him.

Trevor either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He presses his lips to Philip’s skin yet again, gentle and oddly tender given that he’s still jerking him off, looking at him through his lashes (Philip wonders if he’s doing that deliberately. If he knows what it’s doing to him). “You don’t have to be quiet,” he says softly, and there’s another kiss. Lower this time, on his pectoral.

“I’m— I’m not—” Philip breaks off in a rush of air when he feels Trevor’s teeth graze his skin. 

“Not what?” 

Philip doesn’t even know what he’d been getting at, but it sure isn’t important. “Doesn’t matter,” he breathes. 

“You sure?” 

“Mhm.” Then, as Trevor’s thumb slides over the sensitive head of his cock, “Fucking hell, Trev.” 

“Is that—” 

“Yes. Yes, oh my— Fuck—” 

Trevor’s mouth has found his nipple. Maybe it’s a little weird, but Philip is hardly in any condition to be thinkin about that. Trevor’s tongue is flicking over the ring cautiously, gently, and it feels really good. Better than it has any right to.

“Ok?” Trevor asks, kissing the sensitive spot. 

“Yeah.” Philip swallows, bites down on a moan and then remembers Trevor’s words. You don’t have to be quiet. 

This time, when Trevor’s hand tightens and moves over his aching cock, he groans, and feels Trevor’s body shudder against his. Philip brings his hand up to run across Trevor’s strong shoulders, down over his spine and back up again. He hums, and his hand speeds up every so slightly. 

“Oh fuck,” Philip moans, “fuck, Trev, keep doing that.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Trevor’s voice is low and rough, his chuckle little more than a breath of air. “I’m not… I’m not stopping.” The engineer raises his head, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he studies Philip’s face like he’s trying to memorise it. Philip is torn between holding his gaze and looking away, heat coiling low inside him, and again he jerks in Trevor’s hand. Trevor laughs again, moving hard and fast and if he keeps that up Philip isn’t sure he’ll last another minute. 

“Trev,” he gasps, gripping his shoulder hard enough that he almost feels bad. “Fuck, fuck.” Yeah. Philip’s really articulate when he chooses to be. He wants Trevor inside him, wants to be inside Trevor. He doesn’t care where, exactly, he just knows that he needs to be closer, deeper, needs to feel their bodies blur into one, but right now he isn’t spending particularly long dissecting that thought. He’s got time. 

“‘Salright,” Trevor murmurs, as if he knows exactly what Philip’s thinking. “I got you, man.” 

Philip feels himself tremble and tip, bliss rolling up through his spine. He might be saying Trevor’s name, might be cursing, or the sounds might be just that; wordless and primal and torn from deep within him. Trevor works him through the high, and as the electricity coursing through Philip cools to static, his hand slows and finally withdraws to rest on his stomach. They don’t speak for a moment, their breathing and the ticking of the clock the only sounds in the room. Philip doesn’t look down, he knows his stomach is a mess, and chooses instead to turn towards Trevor. 

The engineer grins, then drops his eyes pointedly to Philip’s stomach. He feels his cheeks heat, but before he can say or do anything Trevor is bending and sliding down the mattress and Philip thinks he knows what he’s about to do but he doesn’t know what he thinks about what Trevor is about to do. Then his tongue is flicking over Philip’s abdomen and his skin is twitching, a small sound that’s half shock and half pleasure catching in his throat. Problem solved, he supposes. 

“Alright?” Trevor asks as he withdraws. 

Philip just nods, pushing himself to sit up. Trevor smiles and leans closer, his lips soft and gentle against Philip’s. This kiss is almost chaste, reassurance and a kind of confirmation (of what, Philip isn’t sure) all at once. He’s only too happy to reciprocate, his body pleasantly warm and heavy and buzzing with Trevor, Trevor, Trevor, whose chest is pressing against his own. 

Philip pulls him closer, hands sliding over the smooth muscle of his arms and shoulders, cupping the back of his neck as he slips his tongue into Trevor’s mouth. He can taste himself on the other guy’s tongue, a thought that has his brain spinning excitedly out of control and his stomach launching into an olympic level acrobatics routine. Does Trevor like the warm saltiness still clinging to his tongue? Is that what Trevor would taste like? God, Philip wants to find that out. 

Gently, he shifts and nudges at Trevor’s shoulder until he gets the message (faster than Philip had earlier) and lets him push him onto the mattress. His legs fall apart easily when Philip pushes his own between them, and when he moves and his thigh comes into contact with Trevor’s crotch he practically arches off the bed. Philip stifles a laugh. 

“Something funny?” Trevor asks, eyebrow raised when he ceases his assault on his mouth to look at him. But he’s smiling. Flushed, eyes dark and shining, lips swollen and pink and still parted as he breathes hard, but smiling. Philip can feel his brain going into overdrive to store that image perfectly. 

“No,” Philip shrugs, letting his eyes trail lower over Trevor’s torso (the guy has actual abs, which Philip is going to be thinking about for a long time). 

“No? What’s that look for?” 

He debates it for a moment, then, “I’m memorising.” 

Trevor frowns. “Memorising what?” 

Philip presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You.” He pushes his leg firmly in between Trevor’s, basking in the breathy little moan it draws from him, “That.” 

“Fuck, Philip,” he whispers as Philip moves his hand down his side to his hip, across the faint V under his belly button to skirt the waistband of his pants (why the fuck is he still wearing pants?). Philip isn’t even sure if he means to do it, but Trevor’s grinding against his leg and looking up at him like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He thinks he might just cum again, right here right now. 

“Can I?” he asks, already dipping his fingers below the line of fabric. 

“Yeah, yeah sure.” Trevor seems almost surprised by the suggestion, as if it’s the last thing he expected. 

Philip pauses, frowns. “You sure?” 

This time, Trevor’s voice is firmer. “I’m sure, Philip.” 

Philip nods, breath hitching in his throat. Trevor’s eyes are fixed on his hands, but he can’t look away from the engineer’s face. He gets Trevor’s pants undone, pulls them down, finally tears his gaze from Trevor’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes and parted lips and— 

“Jesus, Trev.” There’s a sizeable wet spot on Trevor’s underpants, the outline of his cock clear and hard and fuck, the dude is big. Philip’s mouth waters.

Trevor doesn’t seem to know what to say to that (which is doing things for Philip that he doesn’t want to even begin to address), but it doesn’t matter. Philip eases his underwear off, and, softly and with plenty of opportunity for Trevor to stop him, wraps his fingers around his length. 

“This ok?” he asks, watching Trevor’s face carefully. 

“Yeah—” Trevor’s voice cracks, and he tries again. “Yeah, that’s… that’s good.” 

“This?” Philip moves his hand, ignoring the little thrill that goes through him as his fingers come into contact with the moisture already gathered on Trevor’s tip. 

“Yeah.” 

“How about this?” Philip squeezes, watching Trevor’s teeth sink into his bottom lip and his head fall back as he whispers something that sounds like a “yes”, and holy shit has he got a jawline. He’d almost be jealous if he wasn’t so caught up admiring Trevor like this. If he wasn’t so far gone on him. If he wasn’t busy sliding down Trevor’s body, his face now level with his hand. 

“This?” 

“F—fuck,” Trevor gasps as Philip licks the tip of his dick, head whipping up to stare at him. 

He pauses, waiting. “Ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah that’s… that’s fine.” Trevor’s throat moves as he swallows. “You don’t have to, though.” 

“I want to,” he shrugs. “Do you want me to?” 

Trevor nods fast enough that in any other situation it would be comical, and Philip can’t help but smile. He bends, places a soft kiss at the junction of Trevor’s hip, then licks him again. 

Trevor moans, his hand drifting up to wind through Philip’s hair. 

Philip just smiles and flicks his tongue over the sensitive slit. 

“Stop teasing,” Trevor whispers. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are,” he protests. “It’s not fair.” 

“Fine,” Philip shrugs, and before Trevor can say anything else he’s opening his mouth, relaxing his tongue and taking Trevor as deep as he can. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, his fingers tightening momentarily in Philip’s hair. “Oh, you— Jesus.” 

The room could collapse right now and Philip wouldn’t notice. His senses are narrowed and focussed to the hot weight of Trevor’s cock in his mouth, the smell of his sweat and skin and his own spit (not pleasant, not exactly, but addictive nonetheless), his half stifled moan and the faint saltiness of precum. His hand works what doesn’t fit in his mouth, slow and firm and sliding easily with his makeshift spit-lube. His tongue swirls around Trevor’s cock, mapping every curve and ridge and vein. 

Philip raises his eyes as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, relishing the almost-whine that slips from Trevor. Again, he sees the engineer as he had been on the couch — chest heaving, gleaming with a light sheen of sweat, head tipped back and eyes closed. But this is better, because this Trevor — his Trevor — is already looking down at him, biting his lip, the unfairly defined muscles of his stomach tense and moving in time with his rapid breathing. A groan reverberates through his chest, and it’s all Philip can do not to smile. 

“Wish you could see yourself,” Trevor whispers, the hand that isn’t tangled in Philip’s hair twisting the sheets. 

In lieu of speech, he raises an eyebrow. 

“You’re a fucking wet dream, Philip,” he pants, and that is not what he expected to hear. It catches him off guard enough that he falters, his own surprised half moan making Trevor’s hips stutter up against his hand. His mouth. 

“Shit, sorry,” he says quickly, but Philip is shaking his head. Don’t worry. It’s ok. He gives what he thinks is a reassuring suck, his free hand settling on Trevor’s hip — as if he’d be able to do anything if he decided to face fuck him. As if he’d want to. 

Trevor curses again, softly, his eyes not leaving Philip’s face. He’s trying to be gentle, Philip can tell, and he feels something inside him melt because of course he would. Even as he whispers “fuck” like that and moans like that he’s still trying not to hurt him — as if he ever could. Philip doesn’t even know if he’d really care at this point. 

“Hm?” He doesn’t stop, moisture pricking behind his eyes as he relaxes his throat even further and practically swallows Trevor’s dick. His hand is sliding so easily now, slick and a bit messy and maybe it should be gross but nothing is gross with Trevor, who was licking Philip’s cum off his stomach just before and has seen him at his worst and has clasped his shoulder and pushed him through. He moves faster, a little harder, and Trevor’s hips buck up again. Before he can apologise, Philip’s thumb moves in a tiny arc over his hip. He hopes Trevor understands. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes,” he gasps. “Please, Philip, I—” 

He can’t stop himself from moaning, an embarrassingly desperate sound. He could listen to Trevor forever, feel him like this forever, replay the movement of his body and the rough crack of his voice and the delicious tension of his fingers still gripping his hair until the Earth stops spinning. He wants to, future be damned. It’s a feedback loop, Trevor’s body jolting towards him as he tips his head back, Philip’s own need surging hot inside him, and he’s gripping Trevor tighter and taking him deeper, revelling in Trevor’s moans and gasps. 

“Hold on,” he says suddenly, and Philip freezes.

“You alright?” he asks, withdrawing with a wet “pop,” his hand still resting on Trevor’s hip. 

He nods quickly, his hand slipping from Philip’s hair to rest against his jaw. “Yeah, I’m fine. Better than fine.” 

“Ok,” he frowns, “then what’s…?” 

“Do you…” He pauses, thinks, swallows. Tries again. “Do you want to go… further?” 

Philip feels his heartbeat quicken, mind racing with the possibilities. He’s never taken that particular step, but if he wants to with anyone, it’s Trevor. And hell yes he wants to, wants to go as far as is humanly possible and never come back. He’s seen so many variations of further now, he can’t pick what this could possibly be, and not knowing is oddly thrilling. 

“We don’t have to,” Trevor is adding hastily, his hand sliding down to clasp Philip’s shoulder. “It’s ok if you don’t—” 

“I do,” Philip interrupts. “I really, really do, Trev.” 

Trevor nods, shuffles backwards before pushing himself to his knees. Philip follows suit, steadying himself against Trevor’s shoulder. His hair is falling into his face now that Trevor’s not holding it back, and he half wishes he had an elastic band with him. Even if Trevor seems to like putting his hands in it. 

“It’s hot when you do that,” the engineer says as Philip pushes his hair out of his face. 

He arches an eyebrow. “I think you’re biassed.” 

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs, “but I’m not wrong.” 

Philip really needs to learn how to respond to this kind of thing, because at some point simply kissing Trevor isn’t going to be sufficient. But it’s working for now, so he’s got time. Trevor hums softly when he pushes closer, his skin hot in all the places it’s touching Philip’s. Philip cups Trevor’s neck gently but firmly, his tongue sliding easily between Trevor’s parted lips and he wonders if Trevor can still taste himself in Philip’s mouth the way Philip can. He shifts, electric heat surging through him when he feels Trevor’s hardness press against his hip, blood rushing downwards in sympathy. 

Trevor moans, grinding lightly against Philip, the kisses rapidly descending into something too messy to be called a kiss at all by any stringent definition. It’s more like Philip licking into Trevor’s mouth, Trevor licking into his, a whirl of tongues and teeth and lips that somehow has Philip moaning too, striving to get closer to Trevor in any way he can. He knows exactly what he wants now, and, as if Trevor is reading his mind, his hand is sliding down his side and around his hip to rest on his ass. 

“Is—?” 

“Mhm.” Philip gasps as Trevor squeezes, just gently, but God he wants his hands everywhere. If Trevor touches every inch of his skin, he thinks, it still won’t be enough. But damn, this is a good start. 

“Turn around,” Trevor murmurs against his lips, drawing back enough to make eye contact with Philip. 

He doesn’t waste time, as much as it pains him to break away, but when Trevor’s voice is that low, that husky, that raw with want, it’s worth it. Trevor’s hand doesn’t leave his hip, half guiding him as he faces the headboard. 

“Holy shit,” Trevor says, and Philip glances over his shoulder to see the other guy’s eyes locked on the tattoo sprawling across his shoulder blades. “I didn’t know there was more.” 

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs. “Neither did I at first.” He shivers as Trevor runs his hand across the inked skin, tracing the points and whorls of the design. He’d actually forgotten about it, as he does most of the time (until he has to do a double take when he catches sight of it in the mirror), but something about the awe and fascination tingeing Trevor’s expression makes him think that that’s not going to be a problem in the future. 

“Fucking hot,” he proclaims, bending to kiss right between Philip’s shoulder blades. He does it again at Philip’s sigh, then again, then lower. He traces the line of his spine with kisses, fingers curling over his hip, and Philip’s not sure who it is who moves close enough that Trevor’s erection presses against him. Either way, it doesn’t matter because Philip is definitely the one who pushes further back against him, and Trevor is the one who pulls him to do it again. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, because now that he’s feeling the hot hardness and the size of him against his ass, Philip isn’t sure if the spit still coating Trevor’s dick — copious though it may be — will actually be enough. 

“You alright?” Trevor asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Philip.” Trevor rubs his shoulder, gentle but insistent. “Why’re you so tense?” 

Philip sighs, rolls his shoulders, forces them to relax. This is Trevor, who is not going to hurt him, and who he trusts with his life. More than his life. “I’m fine,” he says, “I just… haven’t done this bit before. And you’re kinda big.” 

Trevor chuckles at that, shuffling around so he can see Philip’s face. “That’s ok,” he assures him. “We don’t have to—” 

“I want to.” 

“Then I’ll go slow.” 

That… is actually really reassuring. The tension leaks from Philip, and he offers Trevor a smile. “Ok. Thanks.” 

“You’ll tell me if you wanna stop, yeah?” 

Philip just nods, then Trevor is moving again and he has to twist over his shoulder to catch his smile. He leans into Trevor’s touch as the engineer’s hand skims his arm, his shoulder, his back, up his side and down again to his ass. They move together, slowly and carefully, and Philip feels the last vestiges of his nervousness slide away. 

“Can I?” Trevor asks, fingers slipping lower. His voice is soft, but Philip doesn’t miss the way his breath catches when he nods. Trevor’s fingers are wet with spit, and when he pushes one inside Philip there's only a little resistance. “Ok?” 

Philip nods. It’s an odd sensation, and he isn’t entirely sure if he likes it yet, but he trusts Trevor. He makes himself relax, focusses on Trevor’s free hand where it rests on his hip because he knows he likes that, and lets him move. He doesn’t mind it, he decides, especially when Trevor bends and kisses his shoulder. There’s a bit of pressure, a slight burn and stretch, and now there are two fingers inside him. 

“Ok?” Trevor asks again, and again Philip nods. He’s starting to think that he might like this, and Trevor’s still going slow but now his fingers are curled and yeah, Philip likes this. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s good.” 

“You sure?” Trevor whispers against his skin, and this time when he pushes into Philip it really is good.

“Mhm,” he breathes, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Almost involuntarily he rocks his hips back onto Trevor’s hand, and feels the other guy smile. 

“Alright.” He continues for a moment, and Philip’s more than happy with that, but then when his fingers withdraw they go all the way and Philip actually misses the feeling. Misses Trevor inside him, even if it’s just his fingers. He hears Trevor spit, another sound he’s all too familiar with, then something bigger than a finger is poking him and his heart skips a beat. 

“Ready?” Trevor asks. 

Philip swallows and nods for what feels like the millionth time today. “Yeah.” 

Trevor pauses. “Ok, bend over a bit? And maybe…” He pauses, then, “Do you wanna, uh, hold onto something?” 

That’s probably not intended to turn Philip on this much, but it does. He does as Trevor says and leans forward, bracing his hands on the wall, spreading his legs when he feels the pressure of Trevor’s hand between his thighs. “Like this?” he asks. 

Trevor’s voice is husky when he answers. “Yeah, perfect.” Then he’s pushing gently into Philip, who presses his lips together because Trevor feels bigger than he looks. It’s not really painful, and he’s going slow, and the spit lube helps, but it’s still more than his fingers and Philip can’t help the way his breath catches in his throat. 

“I’m alright,” he assures Trevor before he can ask. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, just… gimme a second.” 

“Tell me when.” 

Half of Philip wants to turn around and kiss Trevor for that, the other half wants to shove himself backwards and just take it from there. But he’s got enough of his brain left in his head to know that that would be a terrible idea, so he breathes deeply and waits until the faint burn fades and all that’s left is the pleasant stretch and fullness. “Ok,” he says after a moment, “you can, uh, keep going.” 

He half expects Trevor to do just that and push deeper, but instead he feels him pull out. He spits again, and this time the slide is easier, softer, further. Trevor curses softly, does it again, and now they have a rhythm. It’s slow and measured, careful, and Philip finds that it’s easy to relax into the movement of their bodies, to let Trevor rock into him and just brace against the wall — which is not even bracing anymore, more like stabilising. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Trevor murmurs, the words sending Philip’s mind spinning. 

“So do you,” he replies and revels in the tightening of Trevor’s hand on his hip. This time, when Trevor thrusts into him, he does push back and meets him halfway, something between a gasp and groan falling from his lips. 

“Alright?” Trevor slows just a little, concern clear in his voice. 

Philip thinks he might melt on the spot, but instead he smiles. “I’m fine, Trev. you don’t have to be so… careful.” 

“You sure? Cause I don’t mind. I said I'd go slow.” 

“Well…” Philip pauses, glances over his shoulder. “Can you go a bit harder?”

“Yeah,” Trevor answers, and maybe it’s Philip’s imagination but he sounds a bit breathless. “Sure. Tell me what feels good.” 

Then he’s moving again, pushing deeper than before, and Philip is telling him that that feels good and Trevor is doing it again. It’s not much faster, but it’s somehow more, and Trevor’s gripping his hip damn hard now. Philip hopes he’ll have bruises. 

“Fuck, Trev,” he moans, arching into it, dimly aware of the bedframe squeaking faintly. “Fuck, that’s— that’s fucking great.” 

“Yeah? Not too — ah — fast?” 

“No,” Philip assures him. Then, “Faster?” 

“Shit, ok.” Trevor speeds up, and now he’s hitting something deep inside Philip that has him stumbling over Trevor’s name and pulsing with need. Before he can do anything about that Trevor’s strong arm is sliding around his torso, pulling him back against his chest and his hand is wrapping around Philip’s dick for the second time today as he continues to rearrange his guts. Philip knows he isn’t going to last long. 

“Fucking hell, Trev,” he gasps, because that’s really all he can do. He’s surrounded by Trevor, the engineer’s mouth warm and wet on the skin of his shoulder, his hand firm — just how Philip likes it — around his cock, Trevor’s own cock stroking what feels like every inch of his insides, his warm chest damp with sweat and pressed to Philip’s back. If he died right now he’d go out with a smile on his face, because he’s pretty sure it doesn’t get better than this. 

“Oh God,” Trevor groans. “You feel like fucking Heaven, you know that? You’re Heaven.” 

Philip didn’t know that, but he probably could have guessed from the desperation of Trevor’s combined fist and hips. He feels the words against his shoulder, feels Trevor’s warm breath stirring his hair and it must be all that damned football because he hasn’t faltered once. Philip can’t wait to make him. “You’re talking,” he manages, but any impact it might have had is lost in the unsteadiness of his voice. Maybe he’s still sensitive from his earlier orgasm, maybe it’s just that this is so much more intense, but he can already feel the tight coil of pleasure building low inside him. 

“Yeah, I’m — fuck, Philip — I’m talking.” He gives a particularly hard thrust, and it’s all Philip can do not to collapse right then and there. Trevor is going to be the death of him, and he’s going to say thank you when it happens. 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads — fucking pleads. “Shit, Trev, don’t stop.” 

“‘M not,” Trevor pants. “Don’t worry, I’m not fucking stopping.” And he isn’t. If anything, he’s going harder. “I’m— shit, fuck, fuck, Philip I’m gonna— Philip, where do I—?” 

Oh, is all Philip can think. “In me,” he blurts, because protocol 4 isn’t going to be a problem and this is the 21st century. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Fuck, Trevor I’m so— I’m gonna—” 

Trevor is groaning deeply, spilling hot and thick inside Philip and with that, white hot bliss explodes through his body. He’s dimly aware of Trevor’s chest heaving against his back, his own name being chanted like a prayer, an incantation, and Philip’s never loved the sound of it more than he does right now. Right now it really is his name, and he knows he’s never coming back from this, and that he doesn’t want to. He thinks he says Trevor’s, too, over and over and punctuated with curses, but how is he supposed to do anything else when it feels like this? 

Trevor’s movements slow eventually until they stop altogether, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing and the rustle of the sheets and Trevor pulls out and flops onto the mattress. Philip mourns the loss of the feeling of fullness for a moment as he adjusts to the sudden emptiness, forcing his arms to unlock and relax, his legs to shift — he hadn’t realised they were shaking, but now that he has he can’t stop it — and collapses next to Trevor. 

“God, Philip,” he whispers to the ceiling, then raises his head and smiles. 

“You alright?” Philip asks. Idly, he traces a circle over Trevor’s heart. 

“I am so alright,” he sighs, breathes a laugh, turns to lie on his stomach and looks at Philip over the muscle of his arm. “You?” 

Philip smiles too, his whole body heavy and satisfied. “So alright,” he echoes softly, and if he wasn’t so completely boneless he’d lean over, press his lips to Trevor’s, soft and careful. Instead, he stretches out alongside Trevor. He can feel his cum leaking out of him, and the rational part of his brain says that’s gross and he should clean it up — along with the mess on his stomach. The irrational part of his brain that had his heart speeding up when he watched Trevor lick him clean earlier says it’s hot. Either way, Philip is not getting out of this bed any time soon. 

“What?” 

He blinks, jerks out of his thoughts. Trevor is frowning, still turned towards him and close enough that when Philip extends his pinkie finger it meets warm skin. “Nothing,” he says. Then, because he’s not brave enough to say what he really means, “Do you wanna stay?” 

The wrinkle disappears from between Trevor’s brows and he pretends to think. “Do I wanna get up, get dressed, walk up the loft stairs and try to go to sleep by myself while I know you’re down here?” He scoffs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe to him it is. But he still asks, “Do you want me to?” 

“I just want you,” Philip breathes. It doesn’t quite sound right and he’s not even sure if it’s really what he wants to say, but it’s close enough.

“You just had me.” 

“No,” he sighs, “I mean this. I want this.”

“Oh.” Trevor’s face softens. “Right. Well, you’ve got it, Philip.” Slowly, he wriggles his hand close enough to lace his fingers with Philip’s and pulls their hands towards himself, lips brushing his knuckles. Philip thinks his heart is going to burst, and since when is he such a sap? Must be something about Trevor that makes his brain fly out the window. 

He slips his hand from Trevor’s to run it down the curve of his spine like he’d wished he could this morning, mapping every vertebrae as if the world is depending on it. And maybe his is. He watches the smooth motion of muscle and bone and ligaments and skin as Trevor shifts infinitesimally closer, mesmerised by the simultaneous complexity and simplicity of the movement. The dying light cascades over Trevor’s back and neck, glancing off his hair, pooling on his cheek, catching on his eyelashes as he blinks and suddenly he understands artists. 

Philip has always appreciated art in a practical sense (if there is one), as a historian, admired the richness and depth of the maker’s mark on the world, their cry to be seen and remembered. But in that moment Philip understands the need to capture and render, share, immortalise. For the first time, he doesn’t know if his memory is enough to hold Trevor as he is now, smiling softly and extending his arm, his own hand sliding over Philip's torso. He blinks and the feeling fades enough that he can move to accommodate the engineer as he shuffles across the space between them and drapes his body over Philip’s, lips pressing oh so gently to his pulse point before he lays his head over his heart. Philip knows he’ll never be able to capture this, and for a moment he wonders if how much is lost is equal to how much is preserved. If it’s greater. If it’s less. He swallows, turns and kisses Trevor’s temple, decides it doesn’t matter. He has this now, and he is determined to take it for all that it’s worth. 

“Memorising?” 

“What?” 

Trevor shrugs, shifting closer still. “Are you memorising me again?” 

Philip can’t begin to explain, but Trevor’s on the right track so just smiles and says, “yeah,” sliding his arm around his shoulders and holding him close. 

“Me too.” The engineer's body jerks with a soft chuckle, but he presses against Philip anyway, his breathing deep and even and his arm heavy across Philip’s chest. Then, “Can’t believe you’ve just been walking around with this.”

Philip cranes his neck, looking down at where Trevor is staring at his chest. Or rather, his piercing. He almost laughs because of course that’s what Trevor’s stuck on. 

“Doing missions with a ring through your nipple,” he goes on. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

“That’d be a weird conversation,” he snorts. “‘Hey Trev, wanna see this random bit of metal through my fucking nipple?’” Because Philip is aware that it’s weird, and that’s part of the reason he hadn’t exactly shown it off. Not that he would have had any excuse to, or wanted to, but still. 

Trevor tsks. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. Does it hurt?” 

“Uh… no?” He thinks for a minute, frowns. “Sometimes, a little. Sometimes I forget it’s there and it gets stuck on stuff.” 

“Jesus. 21st century, man, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah. I know.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Trevor’s lips are pressing against his chest and he’s whispering, “I still think it’s hot as fuck,” and Philip, despite himself, is smiling. Whatever he sees in other timelines, and whatever else happens, he’s glad he exists here and now. He’s glad he woke up, and he’s glad he’ll wake up tomorrow — and this time it won’t be to an illusion.

Note: guys I'll be real for a sec I have no idea if this is any good. It feels ok right up until butt stuff gets involved so maybe this is a sign that gay porn specifically isn't my calling and I should just stick to YN shit (which is so sad cause I wanna write destiel smut and I wanna write more about these two silly little dudes). I wrote this originally where Philip just sucked Trevor off and they called it a day but it just genuinely did not feel right and it would not leave me alone and it just kept playing out in my head (something) like this so I wrote it and I'm not feeling the itch anymore but what I am feeling is really unsure. Any feedback at all would be so so appreciated (I feel like that ant with the bindle)

[dailycass-cain]

Titans Beast World Tour: Gotham #1 had several stories, and Cass sort of had one of them. I say sort of because it was a story she shared with Huntress. Anyhoot, here are my thoughts on the tale...

I'll just start right off the bat (ironically), and say it's probably the weakest story in the entire one-shot sadly.

Like tonally?

It just feels "off" compared to the other stories going on (save maybe the Harley/Ivy one).

My problem with the tale (by Sam Maggs) is that well, it goes into showing Helena transforming into a panther, but um.. how the heck did she get the spore in her mouth?

She's confronting a supposedly corrupt city councilor and the next minute she's possessed by the spore.

We get an entire page of her transforming and attacking the city councilor but it just feels like one could've skipped the two pages and gone into Cass. Or do a better job showing HOW Helena got the spore into her mouth (given the angle she was at when it occurred).

Yeah, I'm probably overthinking it. I should just "roll with it", but the other stories in this one-shot establish "the rules" and this one feels so different.😋

Enter the secondary protagonist in the tale and the introduction as it was tweeted earlier this week kind of lays the first actual commitment by DC in saying that the original origin is fully back in canon, and the "main one".

Because we know the B&RE is still around given Harper and Cullen Row exist in this universe. Just to explain how both exist is well-- I guess a mini version of Donna Troy or Hawkman levels of explaining.

I'm just surprised we got confirmation here of all places, and not Batgirls (which sort of hinted at it by mentioning Batgirl Vol. 1 #25), but glossing over other bits. Mariko Tamaki all but saying it in her Batman work: her story with Cass in the AAPI one-shot, her Detective Comics run (which ironically also gave Helena's origin back and made No Man's Land canon again), and OBD: Two-Face #1.

The story just feels all over the place (even though it feels the shortest among the tales here). As one minute Helena is doing her thing, gets "Starroed", and suddenly it's a Cass tale trying to protect Helena and the City Councilor.

I think the story would've worked better from Cass's point of view instead. With her abilities of seeing body language and seeing Gotham City go primal.

It would've been an interesting counter to what we got. Cass knows that some form of the possessed is in there deep down, and she's out there making sure it stays that way.

Instead what we get is um... a more humorous lighter take than I think anyone was expecting in a story with Cass and Helena.

Also, Cass just feels a little talkative in this for me too. I think Maggs could've dialed down the dialogue to the last line of the story and used the art to convey Cass (along with the reader's realizations).

Said art by P.J. Holden is neat. I love the way the tranq gun is introduced via a "Chekov's gun" by Holden showing it on Cass's belt before she uses it on Helena.

Likewise, Holden's Cass is quite emotive and I think could've benefited better without the dialogue. Also, I did enjoy the way they drew Helena transforming.

You really got the sense she was trying to fight the transformation, but in the end, couldn't stop it.

So there are bits I did enjoy of this tale. It's just that-- well compared to the rest? It was meh.

That's not to say the story is bad, just harmless fluff in the end that doesn't really make itself stand out compared to the introduction one with Dick/Bruce/Croc (the best Chip Zdarsky Batman story shockingly), Jason's, or Stephanie's (which was my favorite).

This one felt like it was juggling way too much and by the time it had a clear sense of story, it was kind of over. It just didn't strike me as memorable compared to the other stories sadly.

Sadly, I think the only element many will remember from the tale will be Cass's old origin being mentioned here again. That's sadly about it.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

52 Pick Up: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: This case involves a misogynistic man that thinks women is God’s gift to men, and you need him to help you solve this case. Meanwhile, Spencer goes through a *minor* crisis about your relationship, but he sees you for the woman you truly are.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"The minute people fall in love, they become liars." - Harlan Ellison

Spencer has been trying to complete the last puzzle in his puzzle book for the past two minutes. His record is just over 2 minutes while it would have taken everyone else much longer. He writes in the last part, and you stop the stopwatch on your phone.

"Record?"

"Two minutes and thirty seconds."

"Damn," he chuckles. "I'll do better next time. I just need a new puzzle book."

"You're cute, you know that?" you chuckle and get up.

"Cute?"

"The cutest."

Since JJ is still out on maternity leave, Jordan Todd is presenting the case. Everyone meets in the briefing room, and as soon as Hotch comes in, Jordan begins the meeting. She puts a picture of a woman on the screen along with a few crime scene photos.

"This is Vanessa Holden, age twenty-five. Last Friday night, she was clubbing with her sister. A white male, roughly her age, picked her up and they left the club at one in the morning. They went back to her place, he forced her on her hands and knees, and he cut her open just below the stomach."

"The gutting causes the intestines to spill out. You can survive for a few hours, actually even days."

"Postmortem indicates that he slit her throat at five in the morning."

"So, he disemboweled her but didn't kill her for four hours? He could be a sexual sadist," you say.

"Yeah, I thought so, too, but I found two priors from a year ago--prostitutes in motel rooms."

"Okay. Keep running with it. Why do you think this is the same unsub?" Derek asks, and everyone looks at Jordan.

"In Vanessa Holden's apartment, the following was discovered: bleach, ammonia, and trash bags in a triangular pattern. Exactly a year ago, the same thing was discovered in motel rooms."

"It means he's cleaning up. He might be trying to hide his tracks. It could be a sign of remorse."

"But there's one other commonality between both sets of murders. Bleach and ammonia were found under the victim's fingernails."

"He's making them clean up their own murder," Hoch realizes. "It's the same unsub. Wheels up in twenty."

This is the kind of case you can't dwell on, so everyone meets at the plane in ten minutes.

"So, if the unsub changed the victimology, does that make him organized or disorganized?" Emily starts off the discussion.

"Well, the prostitutes point one way, the club goes another."

"The triangular arrangement of the cleaning supplies is interesting," Spencer says with the photos in his hands. "It could be obsessive-compulsive, so he could have been institutionalized."

"We're missing something here," Rossi says. "This guy started with prostitutes, took a year off, came back, and killed a socialite with no forced entry or coercion of any kind. So, how does our unsub go from the loser of the year to Don Juan?"

"Actually, as Byron interpreted him, Don Juan was an ironic reversal of sex roles. And when--" As Spencer is talking, you smile subconsciously at his rambling. However, Hotch isn't feeling the same way. Spencer sees the look he's giving him, and he immediately shuts up. "Th--that's about it."

"Something must have happened between the last prostitute and Vanessa Holden making him change his victimology."

"Could the unsub have known Vanessa?" Jordan asks.

"It's unlikely. Sexual sadists attack anonymously. They have to sever a personal connection and see their victims as objects to perpetrate this level of torture."

"We have to build two profiles. One for the unsub who killed prostitutes, and one for the unsub who goes to clubs."

"We've never done that before."

"Prentiss is right," Hotch says. "The victimology is so different that we'll treat them as separate unsubs and see what overlaps. Reid, work up a geographic profile and focus on the location of the murders. Prentiss and Rossi, concentrate on the prostitutes. Jordan, Morgan, Y/N, and I will go deal with Vanessa Holden."

As soon as the plane landed, you headed off with Jordan, Derek, Spencer, and Hotch over to the police station. Detective Rachel Harding is already expecting you, so when you walk in, she immediately greets you.

"Detective Harding? I'm agent Jordan Todd," Jordan introduces herself and the team.

"Thank you for coming."

"Hey, is there a DNA match between the unsub and the prostitutes? We could run through ViCAP just in case."

"There's no DNA at all. No prints or fibers. Just like with Vanessa, everything gets cleaned up. It's a pretty effective forensic countermeasure."

"What about witnesses? Somebody must have seen something."

"Oh, yeah, lots of people."

"So, do you have a sketch?"

"Of sorts." Rachel hands over the sketch that a toddler can draw. It's not very detailed. "It's a little vague, but that's because of his countermeasure. Take a look." She plays video footage of the club. There are a lot of people, but she points out the killer that approaches two women. He's dressed in a coat and a fedora, but that's all you can see. "This guy right here is our killer."

"So, he's drawing attention to his face while simultaneously obscuring it. That's called peacocking which is the adornment of some sort of flashy effect to try to distract witnesses."

"So, none of your witness statements agree?"

"I have everything between he did or didn't have a mole to he did or didn't have a gap between his teeth."

"Detective, we're gonna have to have a sit-down with Ashley Holden. She got the best look at the unsub."

"I wish I could make that happen, but unfortunately, the family has decided to stop cooperating."

"Why is that?" Hotch asks.

"They won't say. Yesterday, the mother would move Heaven and Earth to help find her daughter's killer. Today, no, thanks."

"I'll take care of this," Jordan says.

She walks off to make some calls, and only until she is ready, do you head over there with her, Derek, and Hotch. Vanessa's mother lets you in the door, but she isn't too happy about you being there.

"Good afternoon. I'm sorry you came all the way out here. It's a waste of time. Ashley knows absolutely nothing, and we want to get this behind us as soon as possible."

"Mrs. Holden, we can't begin to fathom the loss you've suffered."

"That's right. You can't," she cuts Jordan off.

"But, I lost my older sister in a car crash, and it was really hard on our family because she was the responsible one. She was the one that my mother always counted on to watch over us. When she died, my mother wouldn't let the police in. If she didn't let them in, then my sister wasn't really dead. This man is a monster, and we can catch him, but we need your daughter's help."

You're a bit confused here because you know Jordan is lying. You don't know anything about her or her family situation, but some part of that story is a lie. Why did she lie? Just to get a foot in the door? You look over at Hotch to see the same look of confusion on his face. He must have thought the same thing, but in his case, he's pissed about it.

JJ would have never lied to get something she wanted.

"If you accuse her of anything, I will be on the phone so fast--"

"Ma'am," Derek cuts her off, "we won't."

"Alright," she sighs. "Follow me."

Only she and Jordan go off to Vanessa's younger sister to talk to her. You stay behind with Derek and Hotch.

"Did you know that about Jordan?" Derek asks.

"No, and neither did she. According to her file, she's an only child."

Yikes. Hotch is pissed, and if it relates to the job, it's going to take Jordan a lot to try and make up for it. You three head deeper into the house to see Ashley, her mother, and Jordan sitting together on the couch.

"Vanessa's boyfriend just broke up with her, so I took her out to have a good time."

"There's nothing wrong with that," you say gently.

"Were you approached by anyone?"

"A lot of guys."

"Can you describe any of them for us?"

"Pretty ordinary. Look, Vanessa wasn't even in the mood," she sighs.

"If she wasn't in the mood or if she left with this guy, then there must have been something about him, something unique, right? We saw a picture of him on surveillance, and we know that he was dressed like a rocker. What was the first thing you noticed about him?"

"His attitude."

"What about it? Cocky? Confident? Or did he play it more the broody type?" Derek asks.

"It was like he was hitting on us, but he was, like, making a joke out of it at the same time. Even his eyes were different colors."

"So, this guy wanted to be noticed?"

"Well, yeah, that's why you go to a club, right? Then he had these games. Like, he would bet us drinks that we couldn't get his number. She didn't even want to go out that night. I had to drag her to the club. The last thing she said to me before I left her alone with that guy was, 'I had the best time tonight.' The best time."

Ashley starts crying, and that's when her mother shuts the interview down. Ashley blames herself for leaving her sister alone with that man, and you can't help but take her grief as your own. You'd feel so guilty if you were in her situation, and nothing would make you feel better because your sister isn't here and you are.

As soon as you leave her house, Hotch is on Jordan's ass for the lie she told to get herself in the door.

"The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister, where did you get that?"

"Some of it was online, and some of it was just an educated guess based on birth order."

"You guessed, and in the process, you lied."

"That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport."

"I don't know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don't make it a habit to lie to get the job done."

"I got you in the door, didn't I?"

Jordan may be very good at her job, but she isn't cut out for this kind of work. She won't last long, you can already tell.

"Not only do you represent the FBI, but you also represent this team to the press, the police, and the families who are struggling with some of the hardest times of their lives. If you get caught in a lie, the trust we depend on to help solve these crimes disappears. Do I make myself clear?"

"It won't happen again."

"No, it won't. When we get back, I want you to prepare a press release about the unsub. Do not release it. From now on, everything goes through me."

His phone rings, and he steps off to the side to answer the call. Jordan turns to face you and Derek, and you keep your mouth shut as you get into the back seat.

"So, how badly did I just screw up?" she sighs.

"On a normal scale of one to ten, I'd say a six. On Hotch's scale? An eleven."

Everyone meets at the police station to discuss what to do next. You have the unsub and you know where he was and his tactics. The only thing you need to figure out is where he learned them. It sounds like a douche-y move, but men learn how to be douches from other men. If there is a class going on somewhere, you need to know about it.

"The unsub killed the prostitutes in separate pay-by-the-hour motels in Fulton County in one of the poorer neighborhoods. Now, Vanessa's apartment was in the Peachtree district where there's a lot of big money. Based on the geography, he isn't just changing his victimology, he's changed his whole tax bracket."

"The high profile of Vanessa bears that out. By killing her, he was climbing the social ladder."

"If that's the case, this unsub had a long way to climb," Rossi says as he's reading the local newspaper. "Both prostitutes advertised here. Look at their pictures. Subservient positioning and asking to be dominated."

Both prostitutes are on their knees with their hands behind their backs and looking up at the camera.

"Them promising to come to you? That cuts out the social interaction of meeting on a street corner. That's a long way from a self-assured unsub who hits the clubs."

"Except he took a year off between the murders. Maybe he took that time to change himself."

"That's impossible," Derek shakes his head.

"Why?"

"Well, I mean, you're talking about a total transformation here. How you talk, how you dress, and how you think about yourself."

"It's difficult, sure, but not impossible," you state.

"He already started killing. There must have been a secondary trigger that motivated him to change who he was. So, if you're gonna transform yourself, how would you do it?"

"A steady diet of self-help books. Start hitting the gym?" Emily says.

"You have to learn how to read people. I mean, what is a pick-up? It's basically just a profile. Decoding cues of interest and re-coding similar ones. If you're too obvious, you turn off your target. If you're oblivious, your target moves on to a better profiler."

"That doesn't sound like something he could do on his own."

"No, he'd have to go somewhere to learn it. I like to call it Douche 101. Instead of being yourself, they try everything to turn off a woman, but it only works on the oblivious ones," you say. Everyone stares at you, and you shrug. "What, I'd laugh in a guy's face if he did that to me."

"Uh, wait a minute," Derek says. "Come on, this is an unsub who kills prostitutes. Is he really thinking about signing up for a Tony Robbins seminar?"

"He would if he found a class in the same place he found the prostitutes."

Rossi shows everyone an ad in the newspaper that reads: LEARN HOW TO PICK UP CHICKS. Let's face it. We all want to have sex. But women are a mystery. Take my class and learn how to unlock desire.

"Like I said, Douche 101."

"Then you're up," Hotch says.

"What? Emily is here."

"No, don't put this on me."

"Come on, it can't be that bad, right?" Hotch chuckles.

"You know, it's always worse whenever people say that."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[go-go-devil]

Top 5 autistic headcanons and top 5 aroace headcanons?

TRIPLE A LET'S GOOO!!!

Autism:

Dale Cooper (Twin Peaks): One of the most obviously autistic characters to ever grace television. The allistics just didn't get it probably because he was "too social" or whatever other slight deviation from what's stereotypical in autistic characters

Kris (Deltarune): I genuinely believe Kris is deliberately autistic-coded, mostly due to that "How to Care for a Human" book you find in the library in Chapter 2 but even beyond that all of their described behaviors are SUPER relatable to me as an autistic person (and bring me back to how I felt about it in my youth...)

Daniil Dankovsky & Various Other Characters (Pathologic): Thank you once again for showing me the light in how truly autistic Daniil is at his very core <3 Besides him though I'm also in agreement with the very code of Classic HD that Peter Stamatin and Grace are on the spectrum (tortured savant and death-obsessed weird girl rep respectively), but I would also argue that Yulia Lyuricheva is autistic as well. I mean the woman is described as someone who "sits in the corner and quietly observes others" and invented an entire philosophical theory in an attempt to explain the pattern of random events invisibly triggered by people. That's what we in the business call STEM-influenced autism :)

The Lodger (Knock-Knock): Yet another video game character that is so intensely autistic. Willingly living in isolation, simultaneously longing for and hating the presence of guests in your house, talking to yourself while pacing through the hallways & infodumping about the most niche scientific field imaginable? It's so relatable 🕯

Diane Nguyen (Bojack Horseman): This one maybe doesn't have the most "evidence" compared to the others per say, but I honestly found myself relating to a lot of Diane's personality quirks and struggles AS an autistic person (ex: hating surprises, trouble regulating her emotions/prone to emotional outbursts, having the most specific overly-convoluted Halloween costume ever). With her I think I'm more in the minority for this hc since her other mental illnesses overshadow her autistic traits, plus her's aren't nearly as obvious as Juda's (who as far as I'm concerned IS canonically autistic even if it's not outright stated by the characters)

Aroace:

Patches (Soulsborne Series): There is no fucking way this man has ANY desire for sex and romance. The only hole he's interested in are the enemy-infested ones he can kick you down! Plus I do know of that one famous line he says in Dark Souls 3 which he claims to be "devoid of all worldly wants" so this might as well be canon

Artemy Burakh (Pathologic): I don't care what the shippers think, I just love the idea of Artemy having a narrative revolving around the concept of "love" while being alienated and eventually coming to terms with how he himself doesn't experience this emotion in a socially conventional way. Besides just 'cause he's aroace in my mind doesn't mean he can't form QPR's ;)

Death of the Endless (The Sandman): ABSOLUTE AROACE ICON! She's a being who loves humanity, but keeps a reasonable distance between any individual person due to her role in taking their souls upon their death. Though instead of being all moping and "oh I can never allow myself to truly be close to those I love T_T" she's instead endlessly jovial and enjoys every second of spending time with other humans in a platonic fashion, brief as those seconds are in the grand scheme of her job. If that ain't actually positive aroace rep I don't know what is 🖤

Every Character in Hylics: All of them are aroace. They're functionally immortal clay aliens who probably don't even need to procreate in traditional means to produce new life, and besides they're more interested in prog rock than romance anyway 🌙 🎸🌯

Holden Caulfield (The Catcher in the Rye): A very personal hc for me. Reading that book was one of my earliest instances of me relating to a character for their lack of desire for sex and romance; in particular the whole story about Holden losing his best friend Jane due to her no longer valuing him as a friend and wanting a boyfriend instead, to which he couldn't find himself filling that role. It's just such a vivid portrayal of THE aroace experience of having your platonic connections become "lesser" in the eyes of society, and it really pisses me off that so many contribute this character trait of his as something "he refuses to grow out of" because no it fucking isn't! But then again most analyses of this book are godawful ableist pieces of shit so I'm not exactly surprised there's a lack of meaningful analysis on the main character being sexually deviant alongside his mental disorders

[immobiliter]

ship bias for drummer & martha !

ship bias meme / @galaxye

camina drummer !

okay so no. 1 has to be camina & her polyambelterfam - this is her one canon romantic "pairing" and it's just handled so wonderfully by the writers and gives camina so much interesting development from s5 onwards. i'm not sure if i'd say i'm the biggest fan of the way her and oksana's relationship turned out, at least in terms of her specific dynamics with the other main crew members of the dewalt, but i do like what that dynamic achieves for camina's characterisation in addressing that she has so much anger and trauma to overcome in order to accept love from others. it's just so nice to see polyamorous relationships depicted on screen too.

i also have to give a mention to camina & naomi lmao. it should have been canon. they did polyamory with camina and her crew, so it would have been easy to accomplish with naomi & holden too. i'm not sure i necessarily ship camina with holden, i think in an ot3 situation it would have to be a dynamic with naomi at the centre ( as she deserves ), a little like how the writers pitched it during the latter half of s3, but i think they are both incredibly important parts of naomi's life and she deserves to have them both tbh.

then speaking exclusively about the telltale game, i absolutely ship camina & maya. they did everything right when it came to maya ( and one day i'll replay the game so that i can actually save her because rip, that hurt my soul ), camina canonically falls for/chooses to orbit around visionaries and idealists and i think it makes a lot of sense for her to have an early romantic relationship with someone like maya to help inform the sort of preferences she has during the show timeline.

those are my only canon pairings for camina, i think she is way too sharp and savvy for any of the men she spends her time around ( i just can't picture it with dawes, fred or ashford ). but i will always ship her with happiness + people who can look past her scary, tough exterior and appreciate the heart of gold that she has hiding underneath.

martha jones !

so can i preface this by talking about what i absolutely do not, under any circumstances, ship ? martha and ten lmaoooo. no thank you no way. don't get me wrong, i looove ten, he is my favourite doctor and i have so much nostalgia attached to david's run as the doctor, but i have Opinions about him where martha is concerned and frankly would like her to stay away. i do think their dynamic is interesting for very specific reasons, but the further i can pull martha away from her unrequited love plot, the better imo. i'd be even happier if i can just pretend it never existed in the first place. i think this also rules out shipping martha with any other iteration of the doctor too, i'm just Not Interested in really going there, y'know? i prefer doctor who when it's not all about the romantic tension.

martha & mickey is an interesting one. it's the way that martha's story canonically ends and i'm extremely ambivalent about it, probably because we are given absolutely Nothing and no reason to really care about the fact that they are together aside from a quick scene during david's last episode. do i think they could be a good fit ? yes, definitely, do i like that they shafted tom milligan ? nope, not at all lmao. so it's not something i would auto-ship but i absolutely could ship it with the right person, they both have similar experiences of being shafted and dismissed repeatedly by others and both had to prove themselves, so i think on paper it could work really well and i would one day love to explore it.

martha & jack. again, i wouldn't auto-ship it, but i have shipped it in the past and i do love the idea of them together under specific circumstances. do i necessarily think it could work out long term ? i'm on the fence, i'm not sure jack could give martha what she ultimately Needs ( stability, love, a safe home to come back to ) long term. however i love how protective jack is of her throughout both dw and tw and it's obvious that he really really cares about her and her family. and martha is flirtatious, this is a canon fact. so i find it difficult to believe something wouldn't happen between the two of them at some point, however fleeting it was. i think they could learn a lot from each other.

also a quick shoutout to martha & jason ( @synchronzed ) because i always have to credit rat for writing spectacular ships with me and this is one i'm really excited about. martha deserves a silly boy who simps for her, that is all.

and lastly, martha & happiness is up there too. the girl deserves someone who think she is a goddess among mortals because she is and i will not accept anything less for a queen like her. she takes care of everyone around her and it's only right that she has someone who will take care of her in return. i also hc her as bi, so this needn't be restricted to just boys too. i think her dynamic with miranda raison's character in dw ( the showgirl from the 30s ) is super interesting when looked at through that sort of lens.

[chaoslifeforme]

Here are the rest of my current head canons For Baxter Ward and Coco Last. They do contain SPOILERS.

Coco is also a terrible secret keeper who revealed  that Baxter drank underage in their first meeting with Xavier and had to tell Cliff Holden everything every step of the way to stop themselves from spilling the beans because Cliff doesn't know Baxter and therefore couldn't spoil the surprise.

There's no escape for Cliff, if he tries to avoid Coco's gushing, Coco whines to Cove who then asks his father to speak to them.. and we all know he can't say no to Cove

They know exactly what they are doing

Cliff on the other hand, does spend some time questioning his past decisions..

"You didn't even take the twenty! There is no contract!"

"Too late, you are family" 

*Cliff making a show of being put out but not being able to hide his (somewhat pained but genuine) smile

He had to put up with three years of gushing that no one else could know about.. you can bet Cliff Holden's wedding speech left an impression. 

Baxter definitely falls more in love when hearing how much planning went into things (it's definitely one of those things that still gets him flustered). Coco on the other hand is shameless and very proud of themselves, their husband, and the wedding their Husband planned.

No one knows until Derek's wedding speech that Coco has been doing much the same to Derek. (Because he hasn't met Baxter in person either). Except Derek doesn't even try to escape, he likes to be depended upon. He thinks he can at least do this for his friend even if he can't be there often physically. Despite being in the same city Derek keeps himself busy, Coco's gushing makes a fairly good running soundtrack. It helps that Coco literally sings Baxter's praises fairly often and they have a nice voice. He does not think of that old crush he had at Thirteen, or the voided deal he made back then at all, no sir, not him. He's far too busy. That's true, eventually. He never stopped loving the friendship he has with Coco, and Coco definitely never knew about his crush. His wedding speech is also a doozy, for Baxter at least, Coco is still shameless. Poor Baxter might implode from how red he gets from all the praise.

Given Coco is in the public eye, their relationship becomes public eventually. They make sure Baxter is actually ready, media training, asking him to avoid comment sections, lots of reassurance. They do everything they can to protect Baxter from any downsides of the limelight. They gush so much about him in interviews that there are compilations of "Times interviewers got Coco started on their husband" that are over four hours of just Coco complimenting Baxter while avoiding given personal info. They also get a reputation for being overprotective when an interviewer starts a sentence with "Isn't he too-" and Coco cuts them off to list compliments until the interviewer gives up and just says yes to one in order to keep things going.

Baxter not so secretly loves this side of them, but he can't control his blush whenever Coco gets protective. Whenever it looks like anyone might say the slightest questionable thing about Baxter (friendly teasing aside), Coco interrupts them and lists good things about him until they accept one and leave. (Yes, this does include one unfortunate and unexpected encounter with Baxter's parents at a high end restaurant. The rudeness left them speechless, Baxter pleased and embarrassed, while Coco got a private room with a separate exit for themselves and Baxter). 

Coco also knows that Baxter needs to work on his self esteem himself, but they can't help showering him in compliments whenever he looks sad. At first, it doesn't happen in front of company, but one-time at a dinner with family Coco is telling a story that took place after he left their city and Baxter makes a sad face. Coco cuts off their story mid sentence, gently grabs Baxter's cheeks and stares into his eyes while showering him with compliments. They take full advantage of his shock to keep showering him with compliments until he begs them to stop. Baxter is distraught, embarrassed, and unfortunately pleased so he can't really tell them off. Everyone at the table teases an unrepentant Coco while Baxter recovers, and Coco finishes their story.

Later, they talk to Baxter more and decide verbal compliments will be saved (mostly) for when they are alone, but Coco will carry a notebook in their purse exclusively to write down Truths about Baxter Ward. That is the title they give it. It makes Baxter smile and blush a little every time he sees Coco writing in it. Coco for their part, finishes the notebook rather quickly and scrambles over how to give it to him, until they realise they could make it a yearly anniversary tradition to give him one. Baxter reads them just as much for the traces of Coco's wit, the impact they make on the paper with their words and the way they held it, writing in it, as for the compliments. He'd say it's more for the fact he can tell where they were and what they were doing when each compliment was written. Sometimes Coco combined those details with the compliment, but mostly it's because Baxter is observant and notices all the context clues.

Baxter ends up doing most of the cooking, which Coco uses as one of the many things to remind him of what he brings to the relationship. Baxter also remembers the exact day he met Coco Every time. He often plans simple excursions for each one. He finally understands it doesn't always need to be extravagant, sometimes the best moments can be wandering randomly around the city reminiscing. He, of course, continues to be very affectionate in private and initiates many fun dancing rendezvous in his company's ballroom. His personal growth continues and he actually maintains contact with his current friends. With Coco's encouragement he actually manages to swim a little in the ocean and reconnect his middle school friends. He makes Coco feel brave as he triumphs over his past fears in leaps and bounds (barring a few minor setbacks that he is not allowed to ruminate on).

He continues his charity works and grows his business far more than he expected.

He does end up swimming in the ocean with Coco for the first time on the anniversary of their third meeting. Not for longer than a minute, while wearing floaties and a full body wetsuit (that Coco suggested in hopes of helping him feel more comfortable). He manages to swim for longer the second anniversary of their third meeting. And by the third anniversary, he's adamant he doesn't need the (black and white) floaties and manages a whole five minutes with Coco between him and the rest of the ocean. He keeps improving facing his fears more and more, inserting himself in Coco's daily life more confidently every day. In short, Baxter makes Coco blissfully happy, and Coco will keep reminding him of that even after he can recognize it for himself.

[theexpansefcrged]

Also, I'm going to try and do a better write up of this later on but I am going to be show canon divergent in one of the story arcs with Bobbie in season 4. After the conversation with the foreman at her job where she admits her part in the comm tech being stolen & he tries to get her to do it again, she quits, but she also decides that that's it, she's done, at least for the time being, with Mars. As much as she has tried to stand by their goals and believes in what they were trying to accomplish, everything is falling apart around her and she has been betrayed yet again, and is losing everything, all over again, because she tried to do the right thing by reporting her crimes to her boss and all he wants to do is use that to get her to do it again.

It's my reasoning that the foreman reported her afterwards bc he got nervous that she was going to turn him in, so he turned her in first. By leaving, she becomes a non threat to the foreman so he doesn't report it. This means that she doesn't get brought in for questioning or arrested so she doesn't get backed into whatever corner that made her feel like she needed to ask Esai for help. While it has been a while since I read the novel post Bobbie's novella that deals with Esai & David plots, I am pretty sure she never even considered going to a life of crime in the books ??

It just seems very out of character for her in a lot of ways, and I can kind of see why they did it in the show - they needed a way to show that the Martian stealth tech was being stolen, and have Bobbie discover it so that she could take that intel to Avasarala but I just think it really could have been done differently in a way that didn't go so against the grain for Bobbie's sense of honor. I think that even at her most desperate hour, even if she is so fed up with Mars and how much it's crumbling, I can't see her betraying her own sense of personal justice to resort to stealing (and then in turn just downright murdering people when it came to it) for her financial gain. I could be wrong, if this happens in the books and I've just missed it but I just personally don't jive with it at this point?

So yeah. With my Bobbie, after she quits her job, she goes home, packs up what she's got and leaves for Tycho - she doesn't want to go straight to Avasarala because she still isn't sure how she feels about what might seem like 'trading' Earth for Mars and that's not what she's about, so she heads to Tycho because she knows that's the primary / secondary base of operations for Holden and the crew of the Roci when they aren't on Earth dealing with Avasarala and she figures she can at least meet up with them and say hey, or maybe find a job on the station or something, anything, that's better than resorting to criminal activity on Mars.

[irregularcollapse]

i think i'm suffering from an overwhelm of ideas because i can't figure out where to direct my energy due to... wanting to work on everything at once. which off the back of a week of not writing is not helpful for actually producing anything, to say the least.

things going round and round in my head like a sushi train rn:

comprehensive Holden/Bill Mindhunter daddy kink exploration, centered on S1 and slotting around canon

mock pilot script for Parachute, the fake show that Gale screen tested (via zoom) with Sandra for in before you say cut, which as a concept (and also in preparation for a future installment of the actor AU) is why i was rewatching Mindhunter in the first place

mock pilot script for The Long Slow Draw, the Western they shoot in before you say cut just because i think it would be fun

mock screenplay for Bored+Sore, the movie that Bucky is going to shoot in Vancouver after the Western in before you say cut, which is a biopic about a punk frontman

part 3 of if that isn't love, which makes me sad if i think too hard about it even though i know the ending is going to be happy, but maybe that's more about my hangups over how it has/hasn't been received (me issue)

tennis chapter 4 and the "fuck you while your dad's passed out in the next room" scene but i feel like this is trapped inside me and i'm unsure how to unleash it

Marge POV tennis in which she gets railed by women's world #3 Sandra Westgate as she deserves

actor AU Gale visiting Bucky while he's shooting in Vancouver and coming face-to-face with the depth of Bucky's issues for the first time

lest you forget kiss card oneshot featuring a lot of lipstick

dating app shenanigans

cannibalism

the 4 prompts still sitting in my inbox from last time i asked for prompts

so i guess :) instead of any of that :)) i shall just write nothing :)))

[battlestarbones]

I did this on my phone so it looks super funky but these are my biggest thoughts (I am mostly working from book!canon because I'm more familiar with it and I think some characters have more consistent and clear characterization in the books than the show, partly as a simple function of the medium)

1. Chrisjen Avasarala loves being a huge bitch so so so so so much you can't deprive her of that honor! Also she's one of the most ruthless characters in the entire series, even though it can be easier to dismiss it because her goals are usually pretty well-aligned with the audience and don't involve mass murder or starting illegal wars.

2. Alex Kamal is genuinely one of the kindest people in the series he just loves flying his ship and taking care of his friends. His biggest canonical sins are cheating on his first wife and otherwise being terrible at being married. Obviously everyone in this show has a mix of good and bad, but I'd say his core personality is very kind. (I personally think the show's decision to make him currently married with a kid who he lets think he's dead for months to years was a terrible one and is not consistent with his book character at all. And iirc there's no textual evidence that he's a deadbeat dad to Kit in the books even if he's not the Best Father Ever. He actually laments that he won't be there for Kit (who is in university at the time) when they're all forced into hiding in book 7. I think there is a brief reference in the books to him having an older son he doesn't know about, but I don't think I have to explain why having a child he doesn't know about isn't being a deadbeat dad.)

3. Clarissa is just so complicated to place. Obviously she did some extremely fucked up things, but she did them from an extremely bad emotional place and later is extremely repentant. Which doesn't make it better, but also isn't particularly ruthless behavior. She then spends the rest of her life fixing things and not killing people, which is not very ruthless behavior. (Also she's Julie Mao's younger sister so she's maybe as old as her early 20's and her entire life got destroyed and her dad is in prison forever so...she's my babygirl.)

(Plus if killing people and not feeling that bad about it at the time puts people deep in ruthless then we gotta talk about Amos, who has killed many people and canonically doesn't really regret it and would probably do it again. He brings a nuclear warhead to a planet when he goes to rescue Holden from a city on said populated planet. A nuclear warhead on a planet is not a defensive weapon, that's a mass murder backup plan.)

4. Marco Inaros is by far one of the most ruthless and cruel characters in the series but I put him mid way between nice and bitch because he's both at different times.

5. Adding Fred Johnson mostly as a counterpoint to Avasarala. He's also extremely ruthless in achieving his goals but he's usually pretending to be a nice old man about it. (Him being slightly lower than Avasarala is an editing error that I'm too lazy to fix.)

discuss

[mail-me-a-snail]

I want Holden to go apeshit for two reasons:

1. My man's bottling up Every Emotion he has Ever Felt Ever—it's not long before he goes for fight instead of flight AKA Holden Ford woke up today and chose violence

2. I just think Holden? Bleeding? Covered in either his or someone else's blood? That's gender.

[araarataki]

sfw alphabet ft. cove holden || GN READER, no mentions of gender specifics whatsoever. mostly implies you’re romantically involved.

a/n: I have no excuse other than that i’ve been playing ol:ba and I’m down bad for ocean boy. fair warning some things are canon so I’d just be elaborating on said canon.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Going to start this off by saying I’ll try not to deviate from canon when I don’t have to. He’s clingy, he’s incredibly affectionate by nature and that really doesn’t change as he grows up. His canon primary love languages are words of affirmation and gift giving and I do stand by that, though I imagine for the former he tends to stumble over his words a lot. Personally, I feel physical touch is also a big thing for him once he’s more comfortable. He likes being on both the giving and receiving end of this.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

If you’re reading this you’ve likely played the game, so as for how it starts… you know. That aside, golden retriever levels of loyalty. Definitely the “made me think of you” person, so sends you memes when he finds them and gets you little trinkets for that same reason. You’re like his favorite person and he’ll try to spend as much time as possible with you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Absolutely loves cuddles. On the couch, in bed. He’ll take any opportunity to hold you in his arms. Generally he’s the big spoon but he’s not at all opposed to being little spoon. Also a very big fan of any position where the two of you are facing each other. He can hold and be held at the same time?? Amazing. Expect to feel a pair of lips on you when you cuddle.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Definitely wants to settle down with his partner. I mean, c’mon the dialogue about wanting to get married? He wants it all. He’s fine when it comes to cleaning, he’ll do what needs to be done. As for cooking, he’s okay. He can manage cooking just fine but it’s not his favorite thing to do and it’s not something he’d say is part of his skillset. He tries his best, though. Prefers to have you with him in the kitchen.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’s gonna want to do it face to face, and while I feel he’d be pretty direct about it, he’d want to talk about it as well. He’d be the type to be distant during the period leading up to it, spending a lot of time thinking about how he’d even bring it up. Because god forbid he loses his best friend over this.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I touched on this for D already but here goes. He 100% wants to commit and get married. The question on when would depend on how long you’ve been together. He wouldn’t mind a long engagement, either. However, early to mid 20s is ideal. He wants to be able to refer to you as his spouse as soon and for as long as possible.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s a sentimental man. There’s no other way to describe how he is emotionally. His emotions get the better of him a fair amount, though it used to be worse for him growing up. However for his partner, he’s mush. He mellowed out but the way he tears up over how you’re his? That sure has been consistent. Physically, he’s the same. Just a softie. His hugs may be tight sometimes but that’s about as tough as he gets for the most part. Big friendly giant and a gentle soul.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He does, though only with the people closest to him and namely his partner (you in this case, ahem). Having said that, he’ll like hugs plenty. He initiates them a fair amount in the comfort of your own home(s), and when the situation calls for it elsewhere. His hugs are warm and gentle, and one thing he does do, especially during long hugs, is to rub the other person’s back. Also you can’t tell me he doesn’t rest his head against you in some way. He’s gotta.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

There is. Canon for this, so. Hm.

Changing the question to “how would he say it”, and I’m gonna deviate from canon. Because. Yeah. What stays true is that he’d be pretty casual about it. Not… “goodnight, I love you” casual but. Don’t expect him to show up with 100 red roses, and a note saying he loves you. Loving you is something he does quietly, and I feel when he does finally say it out loud it’s because he simply can’t contain it and keep it to himself anymore. Whether it’s something he just blurts out or has to work up to… it’s a mix of both. He “wants” to just blurt it out, kind of. Because he feels that’s the most natural route to take. He’s just waiting to burst p much.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

If it’s a well established relationship, he doesn’t really get jealous. If anything, he trusts you, he just doesn’t always trust the people you’re with. New relationship? If volunteers or classmates or colleagues or whatnot are particularly chatty with you? He might get a bit antsy and irritated and if it goes on for long enough he’ll try and direct your attention to him instead. But he generally doesn’t admit to feeling jealousy. Not that it’s necessary, the two of you grew up together, you know him inside and out.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He likes if not loves them. Maybe a little too much and for that reason he doesn’t initiate them as much - afraid it’s “too often”. Please reassure him. Anyway, his kisses are sweet. He likes to linger and smile against your lips. Smile against his and he’ll be putty in your hands. “Hands cupping your face and caressing your cheeks while kissing you and humming against your lips” kind of person. “I gotta do something rq so I need a goodbye kiss” kind of person. He’ll steal a peck in those situations. Prefers to kiss and be kissed on the lips, but anywhere on his face makes him all mushy. Especially his forehead. Apart from lips, he likes to kiss you on the corner of your mouth and cheeks.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s okay. He can get along with them alright, but he can get in his head about if he’s being a good example and if he’s handling them well. If he’s around them more frequently he adjusts well and kids would end up taking a liking to him as well. As for having one of his own… it really depends on the relationship and his partner.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s either awake way before you, or the two of you wake up together and decide to stay in bed for “five more minutes”. In the case of the latter, it’s spent cuddling, “how’d you sleep? Any crazy dreams?”, talking about what either of you has planned for the day. He prefers them this way, however if he’s awake he’s awake and he then won’t hesitate to enjoy the extra bit of sunlight he gets so early in the morning.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Similar to mornings, some easy chatter, cuddles, discussing plans for the following day, discussing the day that’s ending, etc. If the two of you have spent a lot of time apart that day he’ll make sure to use the time with you that he has then well. So lots of (physical) affection next to cuddles as well. And as goofy as he can get during evenings, it’s also the time where the more serious talks happen. Though there’s plenty of nights where it’s just calm and quiet, the two of you merely enjoying the other’s presence.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

“Fuck around and find out”, is how I’d probably describe it. And otherwise, he reveals things about himself as time goes on and when it’s relevant. Other than times where he randomly remembers something and he decides to tell you because he either thinks it’s funny, or because it might be important. He doesn’t “make you wait” to learn about things. Not on purpose anyway.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Short answer: not very easily at all. Longer answer: if it has to do with the people most dear to him, he can get incredibly pissy but it’s always justified. He can get frustrated, sure. And that can easily be mistaken as anger, s u r e. But if he’s actually angry you’ll know. Overall, not someone with much of a temper.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers. He always makes sure to. How else is he going to know what trinkets to get you? What memes to send you? Which of your interests to ask about? Where to take you on surprise dates? Yaddah yaddah. He actually remembers a lot. The tiniest things that you’ve long forgotten about, he remembers them. …for the most part. He can be incredibly forgetful as well but the amount of things he remembers about you more than makes up for that.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He wouldn’t be able to pick one. The day you met, the day you got together, the first kiss you shared, the first time you exchanged “I love you”s… they’re all so important to him and for that reason, also some of his favorites. However if you asked, he’d probably say it’s the day you two met. Or the time your families went to the market together. The ditching part was less fun, but he cherishes how right it felt back then to run errands together. Just the two of you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Fairly protective but not overly. He just wants to make sure you’re safe and well. If you go out during the evening and he’s not around he wants to make sure you’re safe and all in any way he can do please text him to let you know you arrived at your destination in one piece. And let him know when you’re leaving. Would go out of his way to pick you up to ensure you make it home safe. And as much as he doesn’t think it’s necessary, he appreciates when you return those gestures.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He tries his best. Hell, for anniversaries and stuff he’d probably even take the day off to take you somewhere for the day. It’s like the Happiness moment all over again. If and when he can he goes all out, not just for anniversaries but regular dates as well. Just because you two are stable doesn’t mean he’s going to stop making an effort- hell no. As for gifts, the smaller ones he gets you cause they made him think of you. Larger gifts, like anniversary or birthday ones? He ponders about it for AGES, but if he knows there’s something you really want he’ll get it asap. Everyday tasks I feel I don’t have to get into much, like I said he’s not going to stop making an effort. You’re with him and he doesn’t take that for granted for even a second.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Leaving sand everywhere, but considering… him, it’s kind of what you signed up for. And if he’s anything like me he struggles to hydrate himself so please remind him to drink some water. Last one would probably be that he can get pretty stuck in a thought pattern. It’s more of the “I just want you to be happy and I worry about how happy I can make you” as was touched on in canon, but still. Please reassure him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not at all. He’s not insecure about his looks but he wouldn’t say he’s particularly attractive or anything. That aside, if it’s for dates and stuff he will be concerned about his looks. He wants to look good for you. Impress you. He doesn’t care how long you two have been going out, either. TLDR; generally, for himself, he doesn’t care. For you? Hell yeah.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

While I don’t believe he’s the type of person to think he’s incomplete without a partner, yes. I do feel like he’d feel incomplete without you. You’ve been a part of his life for so long, you’re his best friend. His partner. Maybe even the most important person in his life. If he were to suddenly lose that yes definitely feel incomplete and lost.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I had trouble coming up with this one, so feel free to leave any and all hcs you have in my ask box!! I’d love to read them.

That aside, I bet he listens to rock and metal. Not like, death metal or anything industrial, but some alternative rock and metal? Sure. Lo-fi stuff, as well as synthwave and adjacent genres are more his thing though. Easy to listen to.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

It’s canon that he wouldn’t really like a partner who’s set on things always being clean. Cove wants a house to look lived in so that’s one thing. He doesn’t like it when people cancel on plans often, either. Especially at the very last minute. And poor communication? Big no as well.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Usually, he’s an early sleeper and an early riser. Wants as many hours in the sun as possible. Nothing wrong with that per se. The issue is that he’s an early riser even if he’s gone to bad l a t e the night before. 8h of sleep a night? Don’t know her. This is also a bad habit, hm. He has to cuddle with his partner, maybe not fall asleep cuddling per se, but before then? Definitely. It’s kind of how he unwinds.