#trez fic

[sylphidine]

[Fic] Call Signs, Chapter 38

Fandom: Deltarune

‘Verse: Human AU

Pairings: Swatch/Spamton [Swatchton]; Spamton/T.M. [Spamager], GiGi/Leroux [QueenKaard]

Characters: Spamton Addison, Eos Addison, Swatch Paletta, Indigo Dyer, Catechu Dyer, Julius Dyer, Endora the Third, Desiree Dyer, T.M. Tinker, GiGi McCray, Leroux Kaard, Lance O'Toole, Kirov Rouvin

Rating: Mature

Chapter title: Scooby-Dooby Doors

Chapter summary: The days leading up to the Seeds of Peace Festival, as seen through varying points of view.

Author notes: Content warning for discussion of alcohol consumption, plus a [possible] hallucinatory experience.

Special thanks to @cozylittleartblog for permission to reference her QueenKaard comics. They've shaped a lot of the way I write GiGi, Leroux, and Lance.

========

FRIDAY NIGHT, THE FIRST OF APRIL

Spamton had never seen a DVD hiccup like this one. Steve Sharples’ “Bolero” played out over the closing credits of MOULIN ROUGE!, and then kept looping back to play again. He’d seen audio tracks looped like this on YouTube, but a DVD doing it was new to him.

One heck of a coincidental scratch , he thought after the fourth time, and pushed his glasses up to rub at his eyes.

The music stopped in mid-chord, and the word “truth” was frozen in pixels on the screen

Huh?

And then it resumed with the orchestral flourish and the unfurling of the remaining words ”beauty, freedom, but above all, love.”

Definitely unsettled now, not knowing whether or not this was the first hallucination he’d had in months, he leaned over to poke a sleepy Eos.  “M-movie’s over.”

His eldest brother came back to attention at Spamton’s words and reached for the remote, turning the 85-inch flat screen TV off. “So what did you think this time, seeing it as an adult rather than as a kid?”

“Hmmmm.” Spamton wanted to give a serious answer, since this was obviously one of his sibling’s favorite movies. “C-can I be honest? I think the f-fact of Zidler and the Diamond D-Dogs losing their - their livelihood and their home is a LOT m-more tragic than Satine dying.”

He didn’t bother to explain that losing one’s livelihood and home might be just a touch relatable. No need to ruin an evening of family bonding.

Eos nodded in response to his statement. “Same here.  I like the IDEA of love as much as anyone, but that big romance between Christian and Satine?  That was mutual obsession, not love.  Satine was street-savvy, she knew the risks of stringing the Duke along and not delivering, but she let Christian’s infatuation blind her.  The pair of them were oblivious.  THAT’S not love.”

Warming to his topic, Eos continued, “When I’ve seen people in love, truly in love, they’re MORE aware of everyone around them, not less.” He leaned over and poked Spamton back.  “I think you might know a little more about that now than you did a few years ago.”

“G-Guilty as charged.” And Spamton did actually feel guilty for what felt like hours of rhapsodizing over his partners and monopolizing the conversation.  He could blame the booze for that. 

Digging out the special vanilla bean ice cream for dessert had turned into making a pitcherful of frozen Brandy Alexanders, the drinking of which had definitely loosened Spamton’s tongue and had made both Eos and him quite sentimental.  An over-the-top lushly romantic movie had seemed the perfect thing two hours ago, but he was starting to feel he didn’t know his eldest brother any better now than he did before he’d gotten off the train.

Spamton got up from the couch and sighed. “G-Guess it’s time to call it a n-night.” It was coming up on midnight, too late to text Trez. He could probably get away with shooting a quick note to Swatch, but figured it would be better to wait until morning.  

Eos got up too and wagged his finger at his baby brother. “You’ll come talk to me if you can’t sleep, right?  I’m here to listen, you know.  It means a lot to me that you WANT to talk to me.”

“I will. And I’ll c-c-come running if I have a n-nightmare.”

“I will. And I’ll c-c-come running if I have a n-nightmare.”

“See that you do.”

SATURDAY NIGHT, THE SECOND OF APRIL

Swatch woke up abruptly when a small heat-seeking missile unerringly found its target. worming its way under their outstretched arm.  

They had been lying spread-eagled on their front, taking up as much of the bed as possible, and hadn’t heard the bedroom door open.  They rolled back onto their side and pulled Spamton into a hug, sleepily kissing his cheeks, his nose, and finally his mouth.

“Welcome home,” they rasped. “Your nose is cold.”

“And you’re w-warm. Too warm. Like - like ‘running a f-f-fever’ too warm. Are you alright?”

“Eh, I’ll live. I went on a wilderness walk today and might have gotten a little bit soaked through.”

“M-might have?”

“Okay, I definitely got soaked. I fell into a marshy bit.”

“Swatch.” It was completely dark in the room, and Spamton’s voice was firm now. “Why were you in - in a marshy bit?”

“Looking for pussy willows?”

“Pussy willows.” The small man sighed. “Well, that - that explains the v-v-vases all over the living room.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” Swatch leaned in for another kiss. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“I’d say it was because I m-missed you, but really it was b-b-b-because it’s supposed t-to rain tomorrow and Eos didn’t - didn’t want me to - to risk his precious record albums on the tr-train, so he drove me b-back here..”  Spamton anticipated Swatch’s next question.”And n-no, he didn’t just round-trip it back to - to Purchase. The f-family has a c-condo on the Upper East Side.”

“Indeed. Why am I not surprised.” They yawned, their hands wandering over their partner’s body. They commented groggily, “You poor thing. You seem to have lost your clothes somewhere between here and the front door.  Let me warm you up.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Mmmmmm.”

MONDAY NIGHT, THE FOURTH OF APRIL

Julius Dyer opened the apartment door with one hand before either Catechu or Indigo could dig out their keys.  With the other hand, he clasped a fat black cat to his chest and shoulder.

“Conquered without a fight, huh? It’s good of you to have taken Endora in until I get settled.” T.M. grinned at the twins’ dad from where she stood just behind them, a pastry box in her hands. The tall man moved back from the doorway so he could let his sons and adopted niece in.

“Girl, this kitty is keener on sports than half the folks I work with. She’s my ESPN buddy, isn’t that right, Endy?”

The cat nuzzled Julius at the sound of her nickname, and Catto smirked at the sight. “You gonna get her a little Knicks bandanna, Dad?”

“Sure thing I am.  And maybe a Mets blanket.” Julius led everyone into the living room and let Endora the Third hop out of his hold onto the couch. “Soon as she learns not to paw at the scrolly thing on the television.”

“It’s called a ticker, Dad.” Indo wrapped an arm over his father’s shoulder and steered him towards the kitchen, saying, “When’s dinner, what’s for dinner, and can I help?”

“Desiree’s home in an hour, dinner is chicken and rice casserole, and I don’t gotta be asked twice to have you do some of the chopping.”

T.M. put the box on the kitchen island, rubbed her stomach happily, and then grabbed Catto's hand. “C’mon, big fella. Let’s see how much of my stuff is downstairs in storage so I know what I have to deal with next month when I move, wherever I move.”

Catto followed her to the elevator, mock-groaning. “And I’ll bet you’re betting on me and my bro carrying it all, six flights of stairs in some walkup.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmaybe.”

“Good thing you’re my sis.”

Later, as dinner was winding down, Desiree was the first to bring up rental possibilities for T.M. Ticking the points off on her fingers, she said, “There’s co-living sites, furnished rooms, and there’s apartments.  I can do a referral for you for Cohabs up in Harlem, if you want.”

“Ugh Sure, I’d have a private room and I wouldn’t have to worry about furniture, but it would be like living in a cage unless I wanted to socialize with twenty-three roommates. I did enough of that in the dorms with GiGi and her entourage. And isn’t Cohabs just for short-term remote work dweebs?”

“I think the acceptable term nowadays is ‘digital nomad’, honey. At least that’s what our office calls them. You’re right though, I can’t see it as a long-term solution for you.”

“Where does that leave me, though?”

An unspoken conversation had apparently taken place behind T.M.’s back, because Catto and Indo swooped in to grab everyone’s empty plates, and Julius, an apron wrapped around his middle, was making shooing motions. “Go talk shop, Dez, we’ve got this.”

His wife laughed as she got up from the table. “C’mon, Tab- I mean, Therese, we can finish this in the den.”

T.M. followed her, waggling her fingers at the three men and tossing the words, “Don’t eat all the crumb cake I brought, save some for us when we’re done” over her shoulder.

After half an hour of discussing the salary that T.M. would be getting at WNYC, her expected expenses for commuting on the subway, clothing, and food, Desiree went over some of the current listings her agency had for furnished and unfurnished apartments they had on file.  The results were grim, to say the least.

They both reluctantly agreed that the only real choices that fit T.M.’s budget were either studios in Kingsbridge near the college, which would be a long commute at the best of times, or a shared apartment in downtown Manhattan, with all the risks involved in living with strangers.

“Swatch isn’t going to have it any easier, you know,” Desiree pointed out. 

“I do know, even with their higher pay. And Swatch isn’t as, shall we say, gregarious, as your boys are. I don’t see Swatch wanting roommates.”

“Not even the man Swatch is dating?”

T.M. flinched, and hoped against hope that Desiree hadn’t seen her flinch.

No such luck. The older woman sighed, then seemed to make up her mind as to what to say.

“I know I have no real right to butt in, but I think of you as being one of my kids, especially with how useless your mama is.  And a little bird told me that you’re seeing Swatch’s boyfriend on the side—”

“It’s not on the side!  Swatch knows all about it. And they’re alright with it.”

To her credit, Desiree visibly was giving some thought to the implications of that remark and didn’t just rush in with a condemning reply. She did draw in a few deep breaths, and then softly asked, “Honey, are you being safe?”

T.M. knew exactly what was being asked, and something in her chest ached.  This was the mother she should have had.  This was the kind of talk she should have been able to have with her own mother. Sitting in an apartment right above the one where she used to live, it felt like miles and decades between here and now and her old pre-college life.

She couldn’t help the waver in her voice when she answered, “Yes, Desiree, I’m being safe. I’ve been on birth control for years, and I’m not having what you’d think of as sex right now anyway.” Her attempt at her usual grin faltered as she added, “Gave it up for Lent.”

She was reassured when the other woman gave a snort and snarked back at her, “That isn’t what I asked, Dr. Ruth.” 

“Really.” T.M. looked her adopted aunt straight in the eyes. “We’re just having fun. No strings.”

Desiree closed her laptop and turned in her chair, holding her arms out to T.M. “C’mere. If I can’t stop you from breaking your own heart by pretending you don't have one, I can at least give you a hug.”

WEDNESDAY NIGHT, THE SIXTH OF APRIL

Timing is everything , Spamton thought to himself as he blew his nose for what felt like the thousandth time.

Swatch’s “wilderness trek” and wet feet had resulted in Swatch having one - ONE! - day of sniffles, and then they were as right as rain, whereas Spamton was still completely congested and wheezing. He figured that navigating trains and subways had given his system enough of a petri dish that Swatch’s cold had knocked him out harder than it had Swatch.  He’d missed three days of classes, had called out of his radio show last night, and had reluctantly canceled the “dancing” part of the upcoming dance marathon on Saturday, although he fully intended to make up the amount of the monetary pledges he’d gathered out of his own pocket.

There was no way Spamton was missing out on the DJing part of the marathon, though. He’d laid his hands on a Daft Punk cosplay helmet; the visor was big enough that he could wear eyewear under it. Between the helmet, his pink and yellow shades behind the tinted charcoal glass visor, and the vocoder, DJ Dreamweaver’s identity could stay a secret.

He sighed, thinking of the lost opportunities to cut a metaphorical rug with either Trez or Swatch. Much to Spamton's surprise, Swatch had signed up for two separate hours of dancing, times to be determined. Unlike the fierce competition for pledges that had been flaring for weeks between Trez and Leroux as they hit all the local businesses in Kingsbridge, Swatch was being quietly sanguine by raising money in their old Queens neighborhood through the members of their aunt and uncle’s church parish.

And speaking of church, Spamton had to talk to his siblings about the verbal invitation for Easter weekend that he had gotten from Indigo yesterday,  passed along from Indo's parents. Apparently the Easter morning sunrise service at Rockaway Beach was an annual thing for all the Dyers and their extended family.

For the Addisons, Easter as an ecclesiastical thing had gotten less and less important over the years since their parents' death; they really only went to church as a family on Christmas Eve.  But Spamton could still remember some of the High Masses and midnight Easter Vigil services from when he was very, very young. The organ music, the chanting in Latin, the candlelight had all stuck in his head as something dreamy and marvelous, but had faded with time.

Indo had mentioned that Catto's girlfriend Kendra had also been invited, so this probably wasn't a setup for Spamton to be getting the shovel talk.

Maybe not.

Probably not.

His nose started running again, and with a sigh, he reached for another tissue.

THURSDAY NIGHT, THE SEVENTH OF APRIL

He finished decanting the liquid into the final two mason jars.  Once the boiled fruit cooled, the jars could be refrigerated until Saturday morning.

Kirov had put two of his roommates to work to help him cut up cherries, plums, and peaches. He had wheedled his floor’s RA into letting him use the kitchen in the RA suite to make kompot for the Seeds of Peace festival.

His study group for Doctor Hashimoto's history class were going to be manning a stall there. The chilled fruit drink, a reminder of his childhood, was going to be his contribution to solicit donations.  He'd also gone down by subway last weekend and had splurged on twelve bottles of Monastery Kvass with Black Currant from a Ukrainian grocery store in the East Village.

There was one more ingredient, of course. He had handled processing the berries himself, and would add their juice later, at the event itself.

The finishing touch.  A taste of home.

This was turning into an expensive exercise, if the cost of the mason jars he’d ordered from Amazon were added in.

But it was for a good cause.

Supposedly.

Kirov had very complicated feelings about the political situation in Eastern Europe, but they all came down to the firm belief that he no longer could claim Russia or Chechnya as his home. He wanted to be American.

American men could love other American men, after all.

And so what if he'd been unlucky in love so far? He was going to find someone to love, no matter who he had to push aside to do it.

In the meantime, he was going to do the American thing and help raise money for the oppressed.

FRIDAY NIGHT, THE EIGHTH OF APRIL

"It is time for sleep, mine prince, and time to giveth the MP3 player a rest. We will all listen to some lovely music tomorrow." "Are you gonna dance?"

"Yes, but thou willst not get to watch unless you sleepeth."

"Okay."  Lance was more than half asleep by this point, and let Leroux pull the covers up to his chin without any further protest.  "This is going to be the best birthday ever. Night, lesser dad. Love you."

"I love you too, my son. When thou wakest, thou wilt be..."

"Five!"

GiGi leaned over and kissed Lance on top of the head with a loud "Mwah!" sound. She said in a singsong voice, "Sleep Tight, Do Not Let The Computer Bus Bite!"

Lance giggled and slipped into dreamland as the grownups tiptoed from the room.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON, THE TENTH OF APRIL

FOOD POISONING INCIDENT AT LOCAL FESTIVAL

Four Hospitalized, Dozens Sickened During Fundraiser For Ukraine; Norovirus Suspected

Youngest Victim, Aged 5, In Fair Condition

[girlwiththestories]

Us

Companion Piece to This is Love

He arrives a few minutes late, parks his car, and walks into the smoothie shop. He can’t help but feel apprehensive. He doesn’t see Trish yet but knows that he will be face to face with her in a few moments. What is he supposed to do and say? He has no idea. For all of his daydreaming about his future soulmate, he has never thought about what he’d actually say to her once he found her. He’s only been thinking about it since last night when he texted her about meeting up, and he’s still not any closer to an answer. He guesses he’ll find out what he’ll say when it comes out of his mouth. He feels himself shaking and reminds himself why he’s here. If he doesn’t talk to her and goes back to LA without getting on the same page, he’ll forever regret it. He doesn’t want that. This needs to be settled.

He’s awkwardly standing close to the line by the counter but not in it when he sees the door open and Trish appear. He smiles. This may be one of the more awkward moments of his life, but at least he’s with Trish. She’s such a great friend, and seeing her just reminds him of how grateful he is to have her in his life. Maybe this actually won’t be that bad.

“Hey,” she says coming up and standing next to him.

He almost gives her a hug, but then he remembers that they’re soulmates and that this just might be the beginning of forever. He stops himself. “Hey, I see you’re here now.”

She laughs this shallow, half-snort, half-laugh. “I did agree to come.”

She’s got sunglasses at the top of her head, and her curls look so glossy in the florescent light that he’s thinking about how long it has been since he’s touched them. And he’s struck again with their history and all the beautiful memories of fun times they both carry with them. He can’t stop himself this time and pulls her into a hug. “I missed you,” he says into her shoulder.

“I missed you too, Dez,” she replies. “You can let go now,” she adds after a moment releasing her grip on him.

He’s just not sure what to say. She smells wonderful, and he’s sure he didn’t remember that her sense of style while not edgy enough for his taste is still on point. Today’s leopard print leggings, black cami, and jean shirt are the perfect choice for her. “How are you?” he ventures.

She smiles, and it’s a genuine one that makes him smile too. “Good. Busy, you know.”

“Yeah,” he replies. As they wait their turn, they make smalltalk, and somewhere deep down, Dez knows that in a few hours he won’t even remember what they talked about. His mind is way too occupied with the conversation that’s coming and the fact that he still doesn’t know what to say. They grab their smoothies, and he follows Trish to a tall table in the corner where they sit down.  They’re finally facing each other, and seeing her face across the table makes him feel like he isn’t up for this after all. She’s smiling. He figures her smoothie’s good, but it somehow also looks like a mischievous smirk. He’s known her for a long time; he knows what her mischievous smirk looks like, and this is it. He can feel her eyes looking at him at him; it’s as if she has a bet with herself about how long it will be until he says something. They sit taking long sips of their smoothies, saying nothing for several minutes until he can take it no longer. He sets his smoothie down. It lands on its side, and as he catches it, he squeezes it sending some of the pink liquid out the straw and onto the table. After setting his cup upright again, he excuses himself to get some extra napkins and comes back and hurriedly cleans up the mess. “There,” he says setting the napkins in a pile. “All clean.”

“Never a dull moment with you, doof,” she says laughingly. Her eyes twinkle, and he’s not sure why he didn’t remember that they twinkle. He can’t recall them twinkling before, but he’s sure they have. He must have just missed it. They’re so pretty he wants to touch them. Since he can’t, he thinks that perhaps drawing or painting them would be the next best thing. There’s softness in her facial expression that makes her comment feel more like a compliment than an insult. That gives him courage. Even if she has some bet going, she still wants to hear whatever he has to say. She showed up after all. “So we’re soulmates.” It comes out so quickly he has to take a breath afterword.

“It would appear so.” Her tone is even and almost nonchalant.

He looks down at his smoothie. He can’t see her face as he says whatever is coming next. “I didn’t think…you know…I didn’t expect it would be you. It’s not that…that I didn’t want it to be or something.” He can feel himself stumbling over his words. This is exactly what he was afraid of happening. Why didn’t he plan ahead? He can’t stop now, so he just goes with it. “I had no idea who it’d be. I guess I just…I just didn’t think it’d be somebody I knew.”

He glances up. He can face her now that he’s not speaking. He sees hurt in her eyes and feels ashamed. He’d never want to hurt her. His hands find his straw as he continues. “It’s not that I didn’t want it to be you. I’ve just not known for so long, and now, I do. And you know, Carrie.��� He’s bending his straw back and forth and can’t even string proper sentences together. “But that’s all taken care of now. I’ve always wanted my soulmate, and I…I want to give this a try.” He curses himself for sounding so tentative, but he can’t help himself. He just feels so tremendously out of his element.

“I’m glad you wanted to take the chance to talk it over. I really appreciate that.” He can’t read her emotions at the moment, and it scares him a little. “I’m not just your soulmate, Dez. I’m a person, and I don’t want that to get lost here. I’m not going to be some vehicle for your dreams.” She stops for a moment, and he’s not sure where she’s going. Her eyes are on the table as she continues. “I’ve done that before, and I’m not doing that again. I’m happy to talk, but all I’ve agreed to is coming here.”

He doesn’t know what to say. She’s right; she’s a person who deserves just as much if not more than he does. “I’m sorry,” he ventures. “Will you let me try again?” He can feel now that the stakes are higher, higher than they ever were with Carrie. He’s got to put it all out there. “I’m not even sure what I’m doing. I just knew I had to see you, and we had to talk this out before I go back to LA. I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I’ll accept whatever you decide.”

He looks up, and she nods. “Go on.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “You’re too kind.” There’s so much graciousness in her giving him a second chance he doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t deserve this kindness when he was the one who asked her here to tell her something and promptly hurt her feelings. But she’s not mad. He feels her eyes on him again, and it’s this intense stare that makes him feel like all of him is on display. There’s this discomfort in being so exposed, but at the same time, he knows it’s because she cares about him enough to hear what he has to say. He wonders if perhaps soulmates have more to do with coming across someone you could have this with than who you end up with after all. “But yeah, I do want to talk about it more. I used to have my heart set on this, but all those years…” He doesn’t know how to explain it. “I don’t anymore. I know life and even having a soulmate isn’t a fairytale. I just want to be where I’m supposed to be; I don’t want to be too afraid to do what I’m supposed to do. And it appears life has lead me to you.”

She smiles, but says nothing seemingly noticing that he’s not done.

“Even if it weren’t for the whole soulmates thing, I’d want to ask you out. You’re so pretty and more confident than I’d ever dream of being.” He feels a smile spread across his face. She’s so incredible. “But yeah, I think you’re an amazing person matching marks aside. Maybe the soulmates thing is making me do something and keeping me from being a lazy bum who doesn’t ask, but yes, I’m interested in you. I want to see what we have, what the future would look like if we were side-by-side.”

“Yes,” she says so quietly he’s not sure he heard correctly. “I’m up for giving this a try.”

He turns his voice to a loud whisper. “I’m so glad it’s you. There’s not many people who’d be okay with me being a bumbling idiot.”

She places her hand on his arm gently. “You’re not an idiot. You’ve never been an idiot. And the bumbling is actually very endearing.” Her eyes are twinkling, and he feels so warm inside. She loves him already. How did he get that lucky?

He’s so overcome with emotion that as if by impulse he walks over to her chair, places his arms around her, and kisses her. He immediately wonders if she’ll pull back; she doesn’t. When he stands up a moment later to catch a breath, his heart is racing. Before he knows it, she’s standing before him on her tiptoes trying to reach his face for another kiss. He leans down and obliges. She’s so adorable.

When they break apart a moment later, they do sit down again, but she grabs his hand. “So us?” she says.

“Yes,” he says his heart overcome with joy. He squeezes her hand. “Us.”

[finehs]

the trish/dez dating montage is better than anything they ever did with their other SO’s 

[dezwade]

ive decided that i ship trez but only if they have the same dynamic as Andy and april from parks and rec

[jrueships]

Any wiz fic

I have So many.. before the Bad Beal era.. BUT!!! i can share a Snippet of one of my newer old ones!!!!! Just 4 u anon!!!!!

a chorus of synchronized 'oooh's cycled endless throughout the wizards like a snake devouring its own tail, plunging Deni farther down the loose rings of Embarrassment. But its transformation into thunderous cackles dug the grave.

The cacophony of clacking gold against shined silver combined with yodeling wails was enough of an indicator that Montrezl and Gafford were splitting their sides the heaviest.

"Who you writin' LOVE LETTERS to?? What kind of period typical romance BULLSHIT is THAT?"

Looping an arm around his sidekick in coltish disbelief, Trez grinned grillz at the younger, and when that jolly was deflected by bashful bowed head, he instead shared a glance with his partner in crime. Which was swiftly broken, erupting back into wailing as Gafford admired Montrezl's words back in his face.

" a real couple of rodeo Clowns, those two. "

Aaron holiday, arched on his tiptoes, rubbed a sympathetic hand against Deni's shoulder. Shaking his head in a manner of 'don't mind those jingling fools', he muttered hushed and polite, " I'm sure whatever cheerleader you mean those for is going to love it. "

Deni managed a sidewinder smile from the floor, eyes flickering low to share in their secret. A misinterpreted secret, but a secret nonetheless.

Yeah, a cheerleader.

His gaze is back downwards, scanning the ground. They stop at familiar two-toned shoes, pink and white, as he replies a courteous thank you.

Sure.

[myxsweetxeverything]

https://myxsweetxeverything.tumblr.com/post/690395808412090368

#16 for trent x reader, pretty please? 🤍

your writing is fantastic and i’m so happy to see more people writing for trez

Aw, that's very kind of you, Anon! 💗

I'll get something ready for you ASAP, just give some time 😉 And yes, the more Trez fic writers, the better!

[investigaterainbows]

¿qué opinas de strawberry milk, bb? no hagas spoiler si es que ya la leíste, grax

Es una fic muy linda, en general. No es mi estilo pero cuando la leí me encantó así que leela 💖x

[skold]

marina, i had every intention to go run errands this afternoon but then i started dicking around writing a trez/chris vrenna fic that'll probably never see the light of day, and long story short: it's now 6:39 pm, i'm still writing in my room, i'm 1000+ words deep and they haven't even kissed yet.... smdh

did i ever tell y’all about the time i wrote like 7k in one night and that fic got shelved

[curlsgrl]

Epic trez fic idea

So I had this idea...for the most epic trez fic ever written. 

Basically, one chapter per episode starting with S01E01 going through the whole series with everything that happened in between scenes with Trez. Almost like a Trez centered version of the show. But more like a behind the scenes. 

I’ll never have time to do it, but I just like the idea.....Am I crazy??

[dezwade]

not to roast old ass fics but why was everyone obsessed with writing auslly aus that were like "Austin is a #edgelord who comes off as aggressive and rude but is rly a softie and Ally is a #goodgirl who really only has beef with austin and the two have an antagonistic relationship that eventually turns into romance"

like bestie that's trish and dez. you are literally writing trez's canon dynamic

[dezwade]

Trish loved away games, just not for the reasons other players did.

(guess who wrote another impulse trez fic?? anyway this is loosely based on this old af gif set by @dishtrez)

[dezwade]

Trish and Dez discuss their relationship, among other things.

(getting together/coming out fic feat. domestic trez, nonbinary dez, and trish being Bad At Emotions)