#tumblr always messes up my italics but whatever

[jimmyjrsmusoems]

Hey! I love Taylor Swift too. Do you have a Taylor song that you associate with each of the Belchers (and any other characters)?

*cracks knuckles* boy do i ever!!!! thank you so much for this ask, i've been sitting on it for a few days because i wanted to put a lot of thought into each answer lol

bob : sweet nothing

this is such a boblin song to me, but bob towards linda specifically, so that is the song i associate with him the most. <3

"and the voices that implore, "you should be doing more" to you, i can admit that i'm just too soft for all of it"

linda : midnight rain

this song is sooooo linda in my opinion. i picture her listening to this a lot after calling off her engagement to hugo lol

"'cause he was sunshine i was midnight rain he wanted it comfortable i wanted that pain he wanted a bride i was making my own name chasing that fame he stayed the same all of me changed like midnight"

tina : mirrorball

there is a reason that i relate to tina belcher so much and it is because we are both mirrorball girlies. <3

"i'm still on that tightrope i'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me i'm still a believer but i don't know why i've never been a natural all i do is try, try, try i'm still on that trapeze i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me"

gene : bejeweled

i swear i didn't mean for most of these to be from midnights lol. this song just screams gene to me!

"familiarity breeds contempt don't put me in the basement when i want the penthouse of your heart diamonds in my eyes i polish up real, i polish up real nice"

louise : cowboy like me

this one was the hardest for me because while picking a song from reputation and calling it good probably would've worked, i knew that i had a better song for her somewhere on my playlist. i settled on this one because you can't tell me that an older louise wouldn't relate heavily to this song lol

"i've got some tricks up my sleeve takes one to know one you're a cowboy like me never wanted love just a fancy car"

teddy : all too well 10 minute version

teddy fixes the radio in his truck and drives around screaming along to this while thinking about his ex-wife lol (he's just like me fr)

"and i know it's long gone and that magic's not here no more, and i might be okay, but i'm not fine at all"

jimmy jr. : mr. perfectly fine

listen. i love him to death but this is his song 100% lol

"hello mr. "perfectly fine" how's your heart after breaking mine? mr. "always at the right place at the right time, " baby hello mr. "casually cruel" mr. "everything revolves around you" i've been miss "misery" since your goodbye and you're mr. "perfectly fine"

i could probably keep going but most of my other ones are for pairings and not specific characters lol. thank you again for asking!!!

[heywriters]

how to make a tumblr post (and get notes!)

Have never seen any post discuss these exact things, so i'm sharing my insights with y'all*

Use images. They don't have to be good or spectacular like this extremely coherent thing I just made. They just need to catch the eye break up dashboard monotony.

The gif search feature is an unreliable wild card at best and a NSFW eye gouge at worst, but it gives credit to the op of the gif

If you're an artist your whole post is your images, so skip to the links and tags section of this post because the rest won't help much.

-> Image Descriptions

When making a post that contains images, hover over an image and click the meatballs icon in the lower right corner of the image. Click "update description" to add a description. It isn't always necessary, but it is very courteous for a variety of accessibility reasons.

-> Text

Break up your text. Run-on sentences are standard here, lack of punctuation too, you can really do whatever you want, but avoid massive blocks of text. unless you've got a really incendiary opening line and the entire center of that granite chunk of text is actually comedy gold, hard-hitting tumblr journalism, or one of those zany confessional posts that can be followed up by the drive thru meme

break up

your text.

and go light on the ALL CAPS. save it for emphasis or when you're feeling very unhinged or saRcAStiC y'know how that goes, i don't need to explain it. this site has a very dry tone to its posts so caps are rare. also periods

Bullet points and numbered posts are good and fine. The "Chat" post option is used less often these days, but different groups found uses for it so it sticks around.

Titles Matter

they help break up text and put people at ease. they are best for informative, mature posts but can make you look like a square in more relaxed conversations. sometimes they are also great for emphasis in a comedic sh*tpost (censorship is entirely up to you, btw. you don't have to censor much on tumblr except titties and genitals).

Tumblr automatically shortens long posts now, but etiquette asks that you tag #long post if you want to avoid clogging up someone's dash. It don't matter too much though, this is the "color of the sky" site, so get used to posts being too long

That being said "READ MORE" is a fantastic feature. Use it when you want some level of privacy like "hey, only click below if you want to hear about my problems" or "click below to read my 18+ fanfic." Read more is also great in case you want to delete something forever. If a reblogged post has a read more, but op deleted the og post, that content is gone (readmore has to be on the og post at time of posting for this to work, btw; edits to og post do not span all reblogs)

the other bells and whistles like colored font or italics are helpful in improving text, but we don't really rely on them. every mode of looking at this site alters those aspects somehow so we often ignore them

-> Links

Hint: People don't want to click links. We don't know where they're taking us. Most of us are on our phone and don't want to open another tab or leave the app to go on the browser. We're cozy here on Tumblr and do not wish to be whisked away (unless it's a rickroll)

Don't leave the link thumbnail to do all the work, like so

add a little sneak peak info, maybe your favorite line from the article or a reason why it's important for people to know the info on the other side of that link. Sell it!

When you're adding a link into a list, i.e. no large thumbnail just a line of text leading you to another site, try not to copy/paste the link as is

"https://......"

No one wants to click on that it's gross and scary. It's screams "meh, i'll click later if i feel like it." If the build up to the link is too good to resist ("if you want to save the orphaned puppies here's the link") then that http mess is sufficient.

Otherwise, dress your links up a little by including the title or a description of what the link goes to:

Or, if it's an informal post where you're just popping info in to back up whatever insane thing you just said, just write something like "link here" or "(x)" and hyperlink it.

-> Tags

artists, writers, and other creators: leave a tag on your creative content that makes it easy for blog visitors to see it all at once. e.g. "My work" and we click on that while on your blog and see only your works

You can have up to thirty tags on any post. All will make your post show up in searches and followed tags (it used to be only the first five tags that got you traction). However,

Please. Do not tag everything you can possibly imagine being relevant to your post because

It's called tag spam and it's against TOS

Everyone here hates that

No one is going to check all those tags ever. Someone might search one five years from now and accidentally find your post hanging out in the ether and they'll still ignore it.

Your imagination is wicked tiny because I guarantee the perfect tag is going to be something indecipherable and seemingly niche.

Follow popular tags (or at least be aware of them)

If yours is an off-the-cuff post and you don't have time to find out what a niche group is into then wing it, sure, idc. this is also the shitposting site do whatever you want

Don't put your hate in the fan tags. This is the unapologetically-like-dumb-things site and your negativity is not wanted. You can still complain, just avoid tagging to get the attention of the fans of whatever you're complaining about. That enables pvp and even nonfans will know you deserve the backlash

-> Audio & Video

clickable by nature because we all love noise and moving images so there's no special way to share posts like this. just post them with good tags and maybe a one-liner, and they'll sell themselves

Tip: it's nice to add descriptions to these too but it isn't common

Protip: if the audio is the best part of the video (e.g. a baby burps REALLY loudly and it's hilarious) please caption or tag "Unmute!"

-> mkay bye

that's all i can think of right now. will update later if i remember something

---

*this is year eleven of my time on tumbles and i studied marketing in college for like six of those years and have been applying that bupkis to tumblr ever since. every post i see that gets no traction and every lovely artist that goes nowhere on here bothers me so deeply and i sincerely want y'all to succeed <3 <3

+ If you find this helpful and want to support my blog, I have a ko-fi!

+ If you're concerned about my mental health from being on Tumblr so long and want to contribute to my "get better" fund, I have a ko-fi!

[satoruhour]

hi! m sorry but i wanted to ask abt how you got your text to be custom colored :( im a new blog and want to make mine pretty to look at but im stumped on how to make my text different than the default colors :(

hi my love!! ofc! i’ll just tell u abt the coding involved so it will be less confusing (hopefully).

however you want your text to be, there will be an open code with a command: <small> for example, and you close it </small> with a slash at the front of the command! rich text on tumblr does it for u automatically (bold <b>, italics <i>, strikethrough <s>, etc.) but if you want to change the colour (esp with colours that are not in tumblr’s selection) you will have to edit it in html directly.

for starts, you can open up this link that will take you to the website that will allow you to generate the code that you will input in your post. for me i personally have the hex code of the colours i want to use saved somewhere so i don’t have to keep looking for it. my theme’s main colour is #0d8b96 and i just pick a darker variation of that colour: #00353a. paste your starting colour in row three and your ending colour in row four.

and then press ‘run’. this run is only to run the colours you inputed. it will not show the code you can use yet:

the colours should appear in the two small boxes in the white section of the website:

OR if you prefer, you can directly edit the colour in the white sectioned box right away. they have RGB, HSB and hex code adjustments there, and it’s less confusing without looking at the block at coding lol. click the rectangular box to change the method of colour adjustment and you can key in ur starting colour! repeat the process for the ending colour.

now key in whatever you want to in the first box. i left mine open from my previous drabble so “geto’s” is just there. but let’s say i want it to say ‘gojo satoru’, click ‘run’ and the code you can use is generated for you in the second box! what it does is assign each letter descending in the colour until it reaches the end, so the code might be long!

for example: <span style='color: #0d8b96'>g</span><span style='color: #0b838d'>o</span><span style='color: #0a7b85'>j</span><span style='color: #09737c'>o</span><span style='color: #086b74'> </span><span style='color: #07636c'>s</span><span style='color: #055c63'>a</span><span style='color: #04545b'>t</span><span style='color: #034c53'>o</span><span style='color: #02444a'>r</span><span style='color: #013c42'>u</span>

span style refers to the specific colour you want and it shows the hex code you chose. from there the website will automatically fill in the gradient colours until it reaches the last! hope this is clear!!

now onto tumblr: click on the settings @ the top right of the posting pop-up box -> scroll down to text editor and select html.

now if we paste the gradient gojo satoru on an empty post it will look something like this. press the preview button to see how it turns out and voila!

some pointers: i usually do it on an empty post because trying to navigate a post that has your dividers / banners / text is very confusing for me but if you prefer it go ahead!!

if you close the tab to the website it resets the colours

sometimes tumblr messes up the coding and glitches so u might need to go back in to change it!

i normally just post the gradient first and make the necessary changes after (bold, small, add link) because it gets confusing if i try to do it in html, but if you prefer to do it by html that’s cool too!!

last one is that i usually save the things i will always use in posts. like a/n: / wc: / warnings: so i just copy and paste into my notes app so i wont have to keep generating codes lol

ok i hope this was fine anon LOL

[garrothromeave]

the hell is mystreet season 6??

(warning, long post ahead)

ok so before i start this

1) ive never posted shiiiit on tumblr before so watch me suffer, im just here to talk about stuff that my friends who dont know anything about aphmau have to listen to me rant about for hours on end

2) i havent seen mystreet in like years (except season 3, i watch that frequently since im laurance and shadow knight deprived) so please bear with me because i might be completely wrong on this lol. it’s just like, pointing out things i remember

3) im sure someones already talked about this but who cares

4) im gonna do this stupid thing where i just explain myself a bit at first, if you dont want to read that just skip to the part where you see “the actual thingy:” in bold and italics 

5) mild disclaimer; i am completely aware that jessica is not a professional writer. i know that she did her best to appeal to her fans, and honestly, respect for that. while this post will come off as aggressive and probably look like hate, that’s not my intention in the slightest. it’s just... intense criticism. im sure y’all probably already know that, but yeah, just stating that anyways. i do believe that jess is doing her best, and in no way do i want to dismiss any hard work she’s done. that being said; prepare for a very strongly opinionated post.

haha watch there be 10000+ typos in this making me look like a complete dumbass

ok here we go 

one of the main reasons i stopped watching aphmau back in 2017 was the mess that was season 4. like, in the first few episodes of the emerald secret, i thought “woah!! this is kinda cool, im a sucker for mystery!” because of course i was, it was something new and something exciting. the only problem i had with it at the time was kim, but that’s just because i always found her annoying and out of place. i just didn’t understand why garroth dragged her along and honestly i still don’t to this day BUT, moving on.

anyways, as the season progressed, 13 year old me was of course just “:0!!” the entire time--that is, up until the reveal of the main villain. i remember watching the episode, seeing the reveal of ein, and then stopping. like, just for a quick break, but i was still just overwhelmingly disappointed. like, and this was the time when pdh was airing and ein just got made alpha (i think?) and i had really really liked eins character in pdh. either way, that really sucked and actually opened my eyes to a lot of things.

one of the main things bein’ the fact that this was supposed to be a slice of life kinda series that decided to take a turn to a more edgy kinda approach. which, i guess i regularly wouldnt mind? but seeing as mcd was kinda bein neglected at the time it just didnt sit right with me. BUT WHATEVER, point is i stopped watching mystreet all together at the end of season 4.

like, a whole year later my brother tells me that shit’s getting intense in season 5 + 6 of mystreet, and my brilliant self decided to give it a shot--but i refused to watch all of season 5, so i only stepped in when ein made an appearance. so whenever that was, that’s where i picked up because i didnt care enough to see 

and y’know--i honestly didn’t hate it at first. in fact, i found it oddly cool. it wasn’t enough to get me into aphmau again, but it was enough to where i was intrigued. i dont know why, but i never watched the finale, so i didnt see the ending until just a few weeks ago--but back then, i thought it was neat. looking back on it however... im just so confused. 

side note: only got back into aphmau this time around because of mcd. mainly because like, i adore the first season and the first half of the second season. and being nearly 18 now, im a lot more appreciative of plot and well-written characters n junk. 

the actual thingy:

ok back on track. imma stop spilling out my story of how i got back into aphmau, and lets just skip to what rewatching mcd made me realize of season 6′s plot and shit:

-emmalyn. how the fuck does ghost even remotely exist? if she’s emmalyn as claimed, then why have we already seen emmalyn in the mystreet universe alive? look i get that creators can do whatever they want with their stories but at the same time please provide some sort of explanation good god. and maybe they did and i just havent seen it, so if there is one--let me know. but until that day imma just sit here confused as fuck

-ok so imma just be real, the whole ‘ultima’ thing is just... not great. in my opinion, anyways. like... i saw someone mention this in another post, but if this ultima stuff was like, a really big deal, why isnt it mentioned in mcd? though i suppose since its a curse of sorts, it could be later on past the time period in which mcd takes place--but even then, how did it manage to make its way into aaron’s family bloodline? 

-WHY IS EVERYONE AT STARLIGHT ITS JUST SO CONVINIENT like what happened to this place being the most expensive shit on the planet or whatever, and how the gang happens to run into like, the werewolf trio and blaze and kai and guy and nate all of these people like god damn life doesnt WORK LIKE THAT 

-im sorry but turning people into relics? thats... thats the best you could come up with? plus, like, how does that even work? in mcd it’s established that relics are separate entitles that choose their wielder, based on a ‘personal’ connection (being a descendent of a previous wielder) or if they’re a good match personality and (i think?) moral wise. so the whole turning-people-into-relics doesnt make much sense to be honest. 

-irene really over here using her god powers to only keep her friends alive like god damn not a great god if you ask me 

-can i talk about how incredibly predictable aphmaus death was? like i just kinda sat there waiting for it to happen and when it did i literally went “haha! wonder when she’ll be revived” because god forbid we actually kill off characters 

-when aphmau + demon warlock fought in the irene dimension there was no passage of time whatsoever in the real world whiiiiiiiiich really bothers me because they fought in there for at least a few minutes

-speaking of aphmau and the demon warlocks fight does it bother anyone else that it had to be aaron who took over the fight?? like we get it hes the big protector blah blah blah but god damn it wouldve been cooler if aphmau had fought this battle as her. aaron fighting this battle was so underwhelming

-...love. like, thats the only thing thats needed to break out of a forever potion? love? LIKE YEAH, GOOD GUYS GOTTA WIN SOMEHOW, but its just so cliche and overdoneeee

-oh yeah and also when travis went bonkers and became the demon warlock or whatever, why’d he only take over katelyn and garroth?? like, zane had been influenced by the potions in the past as well? DONT GET ME WRONG--i do love some good brother edge, but uh, the demon warlock was just bein kinda a dumbass by not possessing zane too just sayin’

-can aaron please go to fucking jail for mass murder now like holy shit, he just got sent home on a fuckin boat. also why did blaze forgive him for killing him thats not even remotely realistic. then again, nothing in mystreet has ever been realistic when it comes to characters and motives and personalities, (cough katelyn being actually abusive and travis being an actual pervert) but yknow whatever

-katelyn and kawaii chan literally added nothing to the plot whatsoever. like lets be real, katelyn lost her personality the moment season 5 started and kawaii chan just kinda sits there :I

-ok im sorry this was bound to come up but cmon guys imagine laurances potential if he was in season 6 like god damn this is beyond maddening. AND YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A REALLY REALLY COOL PARRALLEL?? IF IT WAS LAURANCE WHO SNAPPED GARROTH OUT OF HIS MIND CONTROL THING, because it would mimic laurance’s speech to get garroth to snap out of his rage in season 1, episode 100 of minecraft diaries. like how fuckin rad would that have been? missed opportunity 

-also?? why does kim/ghost know magicks?? like, if i remember correctly, emmalyn is a scholar--not someone who knew magicks. i mean, i guess research? study?? but its been established that knowing how magicks works =/= being able to use magicks. i dunno, just doesnt seem right i guess. maybe its explained, i wouldnt know (yes i know that makes me look like a dick leave me alone)

-melissa should have stayed dead. LIKE, NO, ITS NOT AS SIMPLE AS “haha it takes more than a few bullets to kill me”??? look ive got nothing wrong with melissa (cough lie cough) but yknow it would have just been cool a character... stay dead? for once? its just too fuckin cliche that shes alive god damn

-can i also just say the only good thing that came out of season 6 was travis’ dads sacrifice like damn that made me actually sad

-howww was lucinda turned into a relic. or yknow, anyone else? like im sure they explain it better in the actual show i just dont remember, but its just that easy? turning anyone into a relic? granted, a normal person wouldnt be able to produce a good relic, but idk man. IM JUST SAYING; that the only really powerful relics that aphmau should have been able to wield is the one that aaron + zane produced because shad relic and esmund relic moment. lucinda isnt even like, connected to a divine warrior. ALSO, another point, if its seriously that powerful of a relic getting one from just a magic user like lucinda, why go through the trouble? i mean i guess ofc youd want the “all powerful” one that the ultima produces but i mean damn whats the point

-ok this is just going to bother me but in one of the episodes (i think might have been in season 5 actually) where that like, guardian dude was chasing aphmau and zane and at one point they split up and the dude just chuckles at zane diverting paths and goes under his breath “youre not the important one here”, suggesting that aphmau somehow is? first of all, id argue that any ro’meave is significantly more important than aphmau was, especially not knowing much about her other than that shes with aaron. i might be missing some bits an pieces, but if i was that dude id forget about aphmau and go after zane 

-killing off derek for shock factor sucked, and i know the moment was supposed to be really sad because like “oh :( aarons dad is sacrificing himself for his son” but lets be real dereks still was a shitty father and i dont think his reasons for doing what he did was very good at all

-less about plot or more like: why the absolute fuck did the gang bring kim along instead of, oh i dont know, a life-long friend? like, laurance or dante maybe?? im sure its explained, i never saw aphmaus year or most of season 5, but god DAMN id hate to be apart of this friend group AND GOD LIKE, imagine reconnecting with an old friend who ends up getting closer to your best friends and taking priority in their lives over you (cough laurance) like god damn lol

-im just going to preface this one with: i dont remember everything that’s happened, so if im wrong i apologize in advance--but (you actually can correct me if im wrong and please do) didnt like, irene reincarnate her friends in order to give them better lives? I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS TRUE, ITS JUST WHAT I REMEMBER--however, if im correct, then:

a. why the hell would she bring back someone like zane, or gene, or ivy, etc.

b. why the hell do they all have the same exact names? first and last? again, im aware that the whole mystreet+mcd tie wasn’t originally supposed to be there, but i dont think that means such a coincidence can be excused? its just a bit much if you ask me.

c. why the hell is the fact that (as much as i literally hate this) aaron is a decedent of shad being ignored? like, you’d think that something like this would be something thats actually important, or something the demon warlock couldve taken advantage of. or are we completely erasing every other connections to divine warriors besides aphmau + irene? because even if irene did reincarnate them or do whatever it is she did, does she even have the power to sever the connections between them and their ancestors? my guess is, no.

d. speaking of irene why on earth was aphmau able to talk to/see irene, they’re literally the same person are they not? did she like, fuckin reincarnate herself without actually doing it?? BUT--i will give it to them, the demon warlock did refer to aphmau as something along the lines of being “one of the 3 parts of her broken soul” or something like that. however, my point still remains. also what are the other two did i miss that or is it never explained

now; if irene in fact did not ‘reincarnate’ her friends then please ignore that little bit right there :)

but yes, those are a few of the problems i have with season 6 off the top of my head. i would go into like, season 4 and 5 more as well, but i honestly didnt feel like it. at some point i might go into other things, like how important laurance could have been to the plot of these later seasons, or HELL, even dante. i might also go into what could have made season 4, 5, and 6 actually good--maybe... a rewrite? perhaps? but im getting too far ahead of myself, so i just leave you with this for now.

and i know that as soon as i post this 15 more things are just going to pop into my head BUT im going to try and not edit this post because why stress myself with that even more

anyways thank you for coming to my tedtalk 

[unforth]

Ko-Fi Commission for Diminuel

@diminuel here you go love! <3 (sorry it’s not Naga Dean, I got it written before I saw your reply)

Fandom: Supernatural

Ship: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Tags: A/B/O dynamics, canon adjacent, omega bottom Cas, alpha top Dean, mutual pining and idiots kinda sorta using their words, heat, mentions of Dean/Kevin (in a platonic “alpha helping an omega friend through a heat” way.)

Word count: 1,646 words.

Read on AO3 or read more...(ugh Tumblr is being impossible about formatting sorry it ate all the italics, sigh...you’re probably better off just reading it on AO3)

“Where is he?” Dean demanded, slamming open the door of bunker library and storming into the room. 

Startled, Sam jumped up from his chair, hand reaching for a pistol he didn’t actually have at his side when they were at the Bunker, and then relaxed. “Who, Cas? How did you kn--?”

“No, I mean the fucking Easter Bunny - of course I mean Cas!” Anger and arousal and anger about the arousal simmered beneath Dean’s skin. “And he’s been lighting my phone up with texts like you wouldn’t believe.” This was all wrong. “I didn’t even know he knew how to use the goddamn camera on his phone, much less how to send me a dick pic.” Cas didn’t - couldn’t - want Dean. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh, um.” Swallowing, Sam looked away, cheeks flushing. “Maybe you should, uh...I mean, he’s in his room. I thought you two…”

Dean glared, eyes narrowing. “We...what?” 

Come on, Sammy, I dare you to say you legit thought we were a couple, when you know better. He’s a fucking angel, and I’m a fucking mess, and he’d never…

“Nothing! I...look, Dean, I’m not involved. I offered, but he said it had to be you, so...go.”

...I’d never…

“What had to be me?!”

...that’s a total lie, I would if there was even a prayer that he’d want…

“Just go,” ordered Sam, gesturing toward the door and dropping back into his chair to hunch over whatever esoteric nonsense he was reading today.

...but he never would.

Grumbling, Dean obeyed, leaving the library and navigating the tunnels of the Bunker. His nose tickled, an unfamiliar scent permeating the air, and he tried to place it. It smelled a little like Charlie, with the soothing aspect of her betaness easing Dean’s tension even when he didn’t want his tension eased. It smelled a little like Kevin, especially that one annoying time he’d gone into heat, spicy and clinging and inescapable. It didn’t smell like Cas, who never smelled like anything. Jimmy had been an omega, Dean thought, but if Cas had a presentation type, Dean had never caught a whiff of it.

It smelled good, tempting, taunting. An itch teased down Dean’s spine, a whisper of desire thickening his dick.

It smelled wrong, like it didn’t belong, like Dean shouldn’t be following it.

Except he had to check on Cas.

Except the scent intensified the closer he drew to Cas’ room.

Except that Dean didn’t think he could stop himself pursuing the source of that enticing aroma if his life fucking depended on it.

Finally, he stood before Cas’ door. The mystery aroma suffused the air, and the explicit selfies Cas had sent him suggested intriguing possibilities, and Dean stood there, paralyzed.

If he added all the pieces up, it was hard to imagine anything other than that, somehow, Cas was an omega and had gone into heat.

And, if that was the case...the last thing Dean should be doing was knocking on that door.

Cas did not want Dean...but apparently, when he was in heat, maybe he did. Dean would never be that alpha. He would never--

“Dean?” Cas’ shout, frantic and deep and raspy and fucking sex incarnate, was barely muffled by the door. “Dean, you came! Please...oh, please…”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, heart aching. “I’m here.” He should walk away. “But I can’t…”

“I know,” Cas moaned, the scent intensifying. “...I know, I know, you don’t want...I mean...but…” The air was awash with musk and a heavy scent like a thick fog descending, and Dean’s erection stiffened. “...but just this once...please…”

Catching a lip between his teeth, Dean furious debated in his head as Cas continued to beg. On the one hand, Dean was never one to take advantage of an omega in heat. On the other hand, there was a world of difference between scenting a stranger and getting a dumbass alpha boner, and helping a friend through a difficult time. When Kevin had been desperate, Dean had offered himself up, after all...consent was a bitch in cases like those but friends were friends, and working it out after the fact was a time honored tradition...if Dean went in and helped Cas, it wouldn’t be any different.

“...Dean, I’m begging...I need you so badly...need you...only you…”

Right. Not a bit of difference. Nope. Not like Kevin really is just a friend, whereas Cas is…

“...I’ll do anything…”

...is everything...

“...I’m so hot…”

...is nothing...nothing to me...we’re nothing to each other…there’s nothing between us...

“I can’t,” Dean muttered, hoping like hell Cas could hear him, hoping like hell Cas couldn’t hear him and might stop babbling enticingly long enough for Dean to escape. “Cas...look...I get you feel all...some kinda way...right now...but you don’t actually…” Dean laid an arm over the door, leaned his forehead against it, and took a deep breath despite himself. “...you don’t actually want me…” 

Fuck, Cas smelled amazing.

“I do!” said Cas frantically. “I do, please - I need you.” He sounded like he was sobbing, and Dean’s heart could have broken - he wanted to help so badly, wanted to believe Cas so, so badly. 

But...

“...you don’t…”

...he couldn’t.

“I’ll show you!”

Surprised, Dean took a step back from the door and blinked as if the dull gray would tell him what the fuck Cas meant.

Naw, don’t need X-Ray vision to know what he means. He’s horny, and of course between Sam and I’d pick me, I’m hung, and Sam’s a little bitch. When I open this door, he’ll be on his bed, presenting a slick hole, and if my willpower doesn’t snap it’ll be a fucking miracle.

“Please!”

And even knowing all that, Dean couldn’t resist the desperate catch in Cas’ voice.

Fuck, but Dean was gonna hate himself when this was over.

Fuck, but I already hate myself…

With a resigned sigh, Dean pushed the door open and stared.

He’d been partially right - Cas was on the bed presenting a slick hole.

The wings were a surprise, though.

And Cas’ scent was fucking insane, powerful, unearthly, drawing Dean into the room like a siren’s call. He’d heard some nonsense about how a true mate might smell and had never believed a lick of it, and he didn’t believe it now, no matter how amazing Cas smelled, no matter how drawn to him Dean felt - this had to be some bizarre angel mojo, no “meant to be” involved, for all that Cas moaned like a damn pornstar when the first gust of Dean’s scent swept before him into the room. There was no fucking way this was Jimmy’s humanity at work. This was pure angel grace insanity, complete with black feathers, and Dean wanted...Dean needed…

“Bedside table!” Cas gasped, craning his neck to look back at Dean. His eyes were wide, his pupils blown, his cheeks coated with sweat and tears.

Who’d’a thought Cas would have protection next to the bed...good thinking though, I’m about 2.3 seconds from sinking in balls deep, and--

Dean tugged the drawer open.

There weren’t any condoms in the drawer.

There was a book with a leather cover and all the hallmarks of being a journal. 

“Read it - please read it - and then help me, if you still want to - I’ll understand if you don’t - but I need...need...and it can only be you, it has to be you, has to be…” Cas’ supplications dissolved into sobs as, confused, Dean withdrew the book and leafed through the pages…

...Dean, it said on one page...my mortal love, it said on another...anything for him, it said on yet another...doesn’t want me, on another page...here for him no matter what, on another...don’t need more than this, on another...but I want him, on another...page upon page of devotion and care written in Cas’ unmistakable neat handwriting.

Impossible.

The book dropped from Dean’s numbed fingers.

He can’t want me.

He can’t think I don’t want him.

“Dean!”

He couldn’t possibly…

Slowly, Dean turned toward the bed. Cas panted desperately, rocking back against nothing, eyes fixed on Dean...no, fixed on the bulge in Dean’s pants, his gaze was definitely directed down with the look of a starving man...and Dean stared.

...why would he…

“...need you…” Cas whimpered pathetically.

...but he does.

Certain this must be a dream, Dean crossed the scant steps separating them, fumbling hands undoing his belt on the first step, letting his pants drop on the second, stepping out of them on the third and fourth, and then he was beside the bed, and Cas was displayed before him like a banquet, and Dean’s cock was so hard it ached, and the scent of angel heat made him dizzy, and there was nothing, nothing between them except years of devotion and uncountable words of near-confessions that never said everything and desperation and pining and need and devotion…

...there was nothing between them, not a shred of cloth, not a single inhibition, not a hint of uncertainty.

Dean climbed onto the bed.

Though...they would have a fuckton to talk about once Cas’ heat was over.

Or it’s a dream, and I’ll wake up...either way, awkward feels talks can wait...hell, they can wait forever if I’m lucky...and Cas needs me now.

“Don’t worry,” murmured Dean as he pushed forward and the head of his dick breached that perfect, tight pucker for the first time. “I’ll take care of you.”

Everything could wait until Cas was sated - until Dean had been the alpha that Cas deserved.

“I know you will,” Cas whispered, rocking back against him. “You always do...always...always…”

Yes, Cas...always...always here for you...always your alpha...always your Dean…

...always yours.

[squadrablog]

Would you consider a reader (whatever gender interests you)/Ghiaccio fic? Scenario: he's trying to impress the person he's dating with White Album tricks to varying success. Most Ghiaccio content, regardless of if its reader!fic or not, writes him as abusive, demeaning, or boils him down to angry screaming and nothing else, so it'd be refreshing to see something that's not that!

I have to admit that the use of the word “tricks” really threw me off, but I pieced together some sort of coherent scenario based on the premise. Most of my work went into the other part of your request, because I 100% agree with your thoughts on Ghiaccio’s typical characterization. I hope you like it! (Also this goes for this fic as well as what I’ve written before but I haven’t mentioned it, my use of italics is preserved on Ao3 but not on tumblr. Just a heads up.)

Ghiaccio x They/them Reader (some feminine language used)

Ao3 Mirror Here.

Word Count: 5393

Warnings: Uhhh. None this time as far as I can tell!

Under cut for length!

“So are you going to help or not?” Ghiaccio grumbled under his breath. Formaggio was currently leaned back leisurely in the base’s common room recliner with a smug grin on his face, basking in the rare moment of Ghiaccio’s humility.

“Sorry, sorry,” Formaggio said, finally leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees and chin on top of his knuckles. “I just don’t want to forget the time that Ghiaccio came to me for relationship advice.”

Ghiaccio was practically biting down on his tongue to keep from snapping at him, but the truth was Formaggio was the most experienced in the art of romance relative to all his other squadmates and he really was desperate for any help he could get.

What else was he going to do, ask Melone? Yeah, right.

“I just need your help deciphering some shit they said, don’t get a big head about it,” Ghiaccio said, leaning back in his spot on the couch and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re better than me at...  people.” It was a tough thing to admit out loud, but Ghiaccio’s social awkwardness was of course no secret to anyone who knew him. For all the talent he had reading people’s intentions in the midst of a battle, when it came to his interpersonal relationships he felt less capable. Of course, that was on other people and their arbitrary social conventions, not him.

But you were different. You said what you meant and spoke in plain language without ulterior meanings or motivations, and you accommodated him and his idiosyncrasies in all the ways that mattered. In fact, you were such a nice change of pace from other people that he tended to overthink everything you said out of habit, projecting hidden meanings where they normally would have existed with others.

“Lay it on me, dude. I’ve gotcha,” Formaggio assured him, his smirk turning into something a bit more cordial and supportive. Ghiaccio let out a deep exhale before talking again.

“We were on a date and I don’t remember what we were even talking about, but they give me this… weird smile,” Ghiaccio began. “And they said ‘Ghiaccio, it’s okay to be more vulnerable around me.’ Said that I could ‘trust them,’ and that if things are going to get any more serious between us they want to see more of the ‘real me.’” He leaned forward as he steepled his fingers. “They know, don’t they?”

“Know what?” Formaggio asked, his eyebrow raised.

“What I do for a living, what else!? They figured it out and now they expect me to say it out loud,” Ghiaccio said, throwing his hands up in the air. “That’s what that means, right? The ‘real me’ they’re talking about?” Formaggio gave a small chuckle and Ghiaccio turned to shoot him a glare. What was so funny about your safety, as well as La Squadra’s, being compromised?

“Dude…” Formaggio said, trying his best to keep a straight face. “You’re fine, chill ou- I mean… calm down.” Ghiaccio mercifully let the original choice of words slide. “If they did know, that’s not how they’d bring it up. No, what they’re trying to tell you is,” Formaggio began, leaning over in the recliner towards the edge of the couch to clap his hand on Ghiaccio’s shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes, “you’re not romantic enough.”

Ghiaccio crinkled his nose at that, but tried to stop himself from getting immediately defensive. “What do you mean exactly?”

“I know you already know this, so don’t freak out if I actually say it, but you’re not exactly… the suavest guy. Or the best at flirting.”

“We’re already together, what do I have to flirt for?” Ghiaccio said, his eyes narrowing.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean! You said they like cute stuff and sweet foods and cuddling right? Someone like that definitely wants you getting a little mushy and lovey-dovey. Everything you say about them makes them out to be this real sweetheart, but the way you say it is always so… technical. So analytical!”

“They say my attention to detail is one of my best qualities,” Ghiaccio protested.

“I don’t doubt it. Look, you’ve got plenty of passion, and based on how much inane shit you know about them that I think they don’t even know about themself, you’re very attentive.” Formaggio might have chosen to say ‘neurotic’ instead, but it was obvious Ghiaccio genuinely loved you and he was trying to compliment him to soften his initial criticisms. “It just sounds like they’re looking for a different side from you as well. The charming heartthrob buried deep within that hard bitter exterior.”

“How is any of that the real me?” Ghiaccio asked, his eyebrows furrowed. Was this really what you had meant? Were you not satisfied by the way he was currently showing his affection? Did the ‘vulnerability’ you talked about really mean you wanted more sappy saccharine schlock?

“It isn’t… yet,” Formaggio said with a wink and a finger gun in his direction. “I’ve got a few ideas though that’ll spark that flame.”

“...I control ice,” Ghiaccio said flatly.

“That you do,” Formaggio said, his eyes twinkling. “That you do.”

---

“Hey, babe,” Ghiaccio said after you opened your front door for him, his posture a bit stiff, one hand behind his back, and his eyes staring at you intensely.

“Babe?” you asked with a laugh, raising your eyebrow. The usage of a nickname was strange enough on its own, but the way he said it was so wooden.

“Does that bother you?” he asked bluntly, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. “Is there a name you prefer?”

“Whatever comes easiest,” you said with an amused smile.“Which for you is usually just my name, right?”

“I just thought I’d try it out,” he said with a shrug, trying to look unaffected by how you had brought attention to the unnatural way he said it. “Anyway, I got you this.”

Ghiaccio usually never came to your apartment empty handed. Before picking you up for a date he always met you at the door with the intention of handing off whatever he had before the two of you headed out. While they weren’t exactly ‘gifts,’ he always brought exactly what you needed, usually before you had even realized you needed it.

One time he came over and saw that you were low on milk, and the next day before you two headed out he had a gallon in his hand when you opened the door for him. Another time he brought a new lightbulb for the lamp in your living area, and once he replaced the old one you couldn’t believe you had been living in such awful lighting conditions for so long without realizing it. It had been the right wattage, right size, and it even had the LED filaments you liked that gave the light a warm natural texture.

Today he had a box of chocolates. You took the box and gave them a look-over. It clearly wasn’t from a grocery store; they looked expensive. Needlessly so. Sometimes Ghiaccio would spend a little extra on things he knew you really needed or things that you had personally expressed you wanted. You liked chocolates well enough, but they weren’t exactly your favorite, and you were pretty sure he already knew that.

“Fancy,” you murmured. “What’s the occasion?” You smiled up at him, tilting your head to the side. While you of course appreciated the gesture and were not ungrateful to receive free chocolate, it was very out of character for him and you were beginning to get suspicious.

“Do I need an excuse to treat you?” he asked, scratching the back of his head a bit sheepishly.

“I guess not. Thank you very much, Ghiaccio. I really appreciate it.” You said it genuinely, and you gave him one of your sweet smiles that always made him smile back involuntarily. You turned around to head to the kitchen and set them on the counter. “Let me just get my jacket and we’ll head out!” you called back at him.

“The weather is going to be warm today,” Ghiaccio blurted out, a bit too quickly. “I don’t think you’ll need it.” You turned around and your eyes raked over him before you met his gaze again.

“But you need one?”

He was indeed wearing a red athletic jacket, to match his glasses, over his black turtleneck shirt. He turned away from your eyes. “I dressed before I checked,” he mumbled as an excuse.

You supposed it seemed warm enough out, even if you thought you should bring your jacket just in case it got chilly later since the seasons were changing. But that still didn’t give a reasonable explanation for Ghiaccio’s behavior right now. You acquiesced, which seemed to appease him, and headed out with him to his car. You’d ask him what was on his mind once you were on the road.

“Hey, what’s that?” Ghiaccio asked suddenly, pointing to the side as the two of you approached his car in your complex’s parking lot. You followed the direction of his finger before you suddenly lost your footing on a smooth slippery surface, yelping and falling forward towards the asphalt in a mess of flailing limbs.

You were saved, however, by Ghiaccio’s arms catching you as you collided with his chest, awkwardly clutching at him, a bit frazzled by the near-fall.

“Watch your step,” he said, with something playful about his tone. You glanced up and he was giving you what looked like a friendly smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes. Usually if this kind of thing happened he’d be cursing under his breath as he fussed over you, making sure you were alright. While you were glad he wasn’t getting worked up right now, it still stood out as yet another strange change in behavior.

“Thanks…” you breathed out, righting yourself. His arms were wrapped around you just a moment longer than they needed to be, and when he let go you turned around to look at the ground, only to see nothing of interest. “What did I even slip on?”

“I don’t know, but I’m right here if you slip on anything else,” Ghiaccio said, his hand slapping down on your shoulder. You gave him an incredulous look, and a small huff. Now that you actually had time to process it you had to ask yourself what the hell happened. Was that fall somehow on purpose? If you didn’t know Ghiaccio any better you’d think he was just trying to play the dashing hero there. But you did know him better, which is why it didn’t add up.

“I probably wouldn’t have slipped if you hadn’t distracted me,” you asked, your eyes narrowing before you turned back towards the direction he had pointed earlier. “What were you even trying to show me?” It seemed like he didn’t have an explanation ready, fumbling over his words.

“Sorry,” was what he settled on, facing away from your gaze, his cheeks saturated with a bit more red as he looked properly embarrassed. Sorry for what exactly you weren’t entirely sure since it wasn’t an explanation, but you would drop it for the moment, if only to give him the proper time to come up with the right words. Obviously there was something deeper on his mind that was making him act strange, and when that was the case he needed time to reflect before he spoke so it didn’t come out as a frenzied incoherent mess.

It was quiet in the car at first, as he scrunched his eyebrows up while he got lost in thought. Once you had been driving for a bit he finally spoke. “You know I’m committed to this relationship, right?” he asked, his tone wavering just a bit.

You smiled. “Of course I know that. You show me that every time we’re together.”

“But I’ve never said it,” he said, sparing half a second to glance at you before his eyes were back on the road.

“You don’t need to.” You set your elbow down on the center console and turned towards him. “You’ve been really weird since you picked me up. Is everything okay, Ghiaccio?”

He quickly glanced over again and let out a small sigh. “I just want today’s date to be special.”

You gave him a quizzical look, which he couldn’t see, before leaning back in your chair. You hadn’t made any grand plans for today other than going for a walk at the park and getting some dinner together later in the evening, but perhaps Ghiaccio had planned some sort of surprise that he was nervous about? You’d let his weird behavior slide and not prompt him for details for now, as curious as you were, if it meant you were going to get a proper explanation eventually.

---

Ghiaccio knew he was already off to a bad start. Formaggio made it all sound so easy, but it seemed like the more he tried to turn up the charm the more awkward it made things. He hadn’t wanted to orchestrate a situation that would cause you to slip on some ice he summoned with White Album, but Formaggio said that saving you would get you all flustered. You mostly seemed annoyed. Ghiaccio just felt like an asshole.

Why did he spend so much money on chocolates when he could think of a dozen other sweets you’d enjoy way more? Formaggio said chocolates were ‘classic’ and the price tag would show just how thoughtful he was. He had spent so much time trying to find the highest quality chocolate possible that he forgot to pick you up shampoo like he had planned. Last time he was over at your place he noticed your hair smelled different, like the old backup shampoo you used when you ran out of the stuff you liked.

While the two of you took your stroll at the park Ghiaccio was a lot less talkative than usual, trying to split his attention between listening to you and convincing himself to go through with another one of Formaggio’s suggestions.

He slowly began lowering the temperature around the both of you in small increments over the course of your walk so that you wouldn’t notice the change right away, and although he had been uncharacteristically quiet so far he finally spoke up once he saw you shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly, cutting you off just before you could finish your current sentence, which you were noticeably unhappy about.

“Yeah, a bit actually,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself, looking up at the sky. “Even though it’s really sunny out.”

“Do you want to borrow my jacket?” Ghiaccio asked, already slipping it off himself.

“I wouldn’t need it if you’d let me bring my own,” you said, giving him a peeved look and a half-smile. He awkwardly started to drape the jacket over your shoulders. “But thanks.”

There was an uncomfortable pause in talking as you two walked for a bit before Ghiaccio said: “You look cute,” and after a beat, “In my jacket.”

You just shrugged, turning to give him a halfhearted smirk. “Bright red and sporty isn’t exactly my style.”

Ghiaccio let out an involuntary shiver of his own, not realizing he had unconsciously been letting the temperature continue to drop. You frowned at him before shrugging the jacket off and handing it back to him.

“I don’t need-” he grumbled defensively, but you moved to stand in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. You draped the jacket over his shoulders like he had done to you and then zipped him all the way up before he had even moved to put his arms through the sleeves properly.

“You look cuter in your own jacket,” you said, before walking on ahead while he fumbled with his arms, his cheeks heating up at the predicament you left him in. Once you were a little ways away and out of the range of where he had focused White Album you called back, “I think it’s warming up again, anyway!”

“Get back here, you clown!” he shouted back at you, finally getting his arms where they needed to be. Since that had panned out so poorly, Ghiaccio just called off his stand and jogged ahead until he was back in line with you. All this had managed to do was make him feel like a real jerk for telling you to leave your jacket at home just so he could offer you his. It was so utterly transparent, shamefully so.

“Hm… ‘clown’ sounds much more natural coming out of your mouth than ‘babe,’ does,” you said. You had a bit of a skip in your step that you didn’t have before, and he was glad that getting back at him had improved your mood. His expression softened when you smiled earnestly at him. You bit your lip for a second, looking a bit more hesitant, before you asked: “Are you done trying to be a romcom cliche yet?”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Ghiaccio said with a small scoff. Of course it was. Everything he’d been doing felt so fake in his own mind and body, so there was no way you weren’t seeing right through him. 

“Is it not?” you asked with a quiet laugh, your smile falling just a bit. “Is there something wrong, Ghia?”

God, whenever you called him Ghia he always had a hard time keeping his cool. He grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, his gaze fixed forward and his jaw set tight, his face starting to match his jacket in color. “No,” he said firmly. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just being stupid.”

You squeezed his hand. He wasn’t big on PDA, and considering the context of everything else you were still unconvinced he was okay. “You don’t have to do things you don’t like just because-” you started, but he squeezed your hand a bit harder than you had to his.

“I’m holding your hand because I want to,” he said, plainly, if not a bit embarrassed. “Getting you chocolates was stupid, you never get chocolates on your own if you have a choice on sweets. Making you leave your jacket at home was stupid, you’re too pragmatic to rely on me to give you one, and too considerate to keep it on while I’m cold. But I’m doing this,” he said while giving your hand a softer squeeze, “because I want to.”

The matter-of-factness of it cleared all your doubts, and you blushed a bit yourself. Ghiaccio knew you very well, and it wasn’t empty flattery or false acts of chivalry that got your heart going. It was things like the systematic way in which he described the things he noticed you liked or that he found attractive about you. Or the way he surprised you with genuine moments of vulnerability like this that you longed to see more of.

The two of you finished out your walk in silence, a comfortable one this time, hand-in-hand.

---

“I do trust you,” Ghiaccio said, a bit of a non-sequitur since it was unprompted by your current topic of conversation. You were both at the restaurant that you had made reservations for, seated at an outdoor table on a rooftop with a nice overlook of Naples. You had your jacket on; Ghiaccio had insisted that the both of you go back to your apartment to pick it up, and now that you were out in the crisp early evening air you were glad. “I need you to know that I do.”

He scratched the back of his neck, thinking of the best way to say what he wanted to say. “But when you said you wanted me to be more vulnerable, what did you mean? Because it obviously wasn’t whatever the fuck I tried doing today.”

“That was your take on ‘vulnerability’?” you asked with a barely restrained laugh.

“No. It was Formaggio’s take,” he clarified, looking off into the distance with a grumpy expression. You had never met Formaggio, but you had heard many stories about the man and his various antics. “He said you wanted me to be more romantic.”

“Maybe? But not if it’s forced and you set up convoluted situations yourself like some sort of jackass chessmaster. I also said I wanted to see the ‘real you’. Where did that factor in?” You raised an eyebrow at him as you took another bite of your meal.

“I don’t know,” Ghiaccio admitted with a groan, poking at his food and scowling.

“When I said I want you to be vulnerable I meant that I want you to do things like… how you held my hand because that’s what you wanted to do, not because you thought you should. Or things like… I’ve seen you happy, and just about everyone has seen you angry, but I’ve never seen you sad, or afraid, or… well, I hadn’t seen you particularly shy before, but I guess you showed me that today, even if you weren’t trying to,” you said with a smirk.

“You don’t need to deal with my bullshit,” Ghiaccio said, looking at you with an unreadable expression. You frowned.

“Ghiaccio, I want to deal with your bullshit, I want you to rely on me! I also want to know more about the person you are on your own, outside this relationship. You’re always so closed off about things like your personal life.”

Ghiaccio looked back at his food with furrowed brows, stabbing at it a little harder and more frequently. “What if you don’t like the ‘real me’?”

“Ghiaccio.” You reached across the table to grab his free hand, but he just scrunched his neck further down into himself, withdrawing like a turtle. “I love you.”

He stared at you blankly, before his fork was clattering to the ground in his frantic attempt to take your hand in both of his. “Are you fucking serious!?” he spat out, causing several other diners to look over at your table. He had been thinking the same thing for a long while now, but he had been too anxious to say it out loud.

“Dead fucking serious,” you confirmed with a big smile.

In that moment he really felt like he could tell you everything. About Passione, about being an assassin, about stands, even about the lofty goals his squad had for taking the whole criminal empire for themselves. And maybe he would, but right now he realized that he was staring at you slack-jawed like an oaf.

“I love you too!” he said, letting go with one of his hands to slap the table to punctuate his next declarations. “So goddamn much, I’m thinking about you all the fucking time, about how much I don’t fucking deserve you, about how beautiful you are, about how you always eat what you like the least first so that you end your meals on the best note possible,” he said, gesturing to your plate of food, the central part of the dish still untouched as you worked on everything else around it. You brought your hand up to hide your growing blush and stifle a giddy chuckle. He would often compliment you, and he would often get worked up, but rarely did he ever get worked up over complimenting you.

“Ghia, you’re going to make a scene,” you said, more for the sake of appearances than anything as the other patrons watched your table. Honestly, you could listen to him shout praises at you all night.

Eventually after he got everything out of his system he was panting a little from the exertion of it all. “How’s that… for vulnerable…?” he asked between exhales.

“It’s an improvement,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“I had one last thing planned for our date, but I wasn’t sure if I should go through with it after everything.” He smiled at you, one of those rare gentle smiles where all the creases in his brow smoothed out. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh?” you asked. So he did have a big surprise planned after all?

You waved a waiter over and after you paid the bill you and Ghiaccio were soon back in his car, driving down unfamiliar streets towards what was for you an unknown destination.

---

“What do you mean ‘closed for repairs’!?” Ghiaccio demanded of the person on the other side of his phone call, trying once again to open the locked doors in front of him. “The lights are on in there and I can see the rink from here! Looks frozen to me!”

After a few more frustrated exchanges on the call he hung up. “Apparently the system is malfunctioning and it’s not safe to skate on it,” Ghiaccio grumbled, pressing his face up against the door of the ice skating rink one more time, watching the various maintenance workers move about, pointedly ignoring the irate blue haired man banging on the front entrance.

“It’s okay, we can do it another time,” you consoled him. “I can’t ice skate anyway.” You had never expressed interest in it before, and while it seemed like a fun thing for a couple to do you weren’t exactly too excited about trying it or too disappointed that you couldn’t.

“We weren’t going to be-” he huffed out before trailing off, rubbing a hand down his face in annoyance. “Okay, originally Formaggio had pitched this as another one of his schemes, but I didn’t bring you here to pretend to teach you how to skate while you stumbled around. Instead I was thinking… I wanted to show you something.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Show me what?”

“Look… I’ve got one more idea to make this work out, and if it doesn’t then I’ll tell you. But I really want to show you first if I can. If we head out now it’ll still be light enough,” he insisted, heading back towards the car. You followed after him, your curiosity now piqued.

You two were in the car for a while as you noticed you were getting farther and farther away from the city and out onto the countryside. When you pulled up to a makeshift dirt parking lot at the top of a small hill you realized where you were.

“I used to come to this lake a lot when I was a kid,” you mused quietly. “I hope you aren’t thinking it’s going to be frozen over? It’s way too warm for that.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see,” he said with a smug grin. You just raised an eyebrow at that response. “Can I ask you to stay in the car for a few minutes?”

“Sure…?” you said slowly, watching as he exited the car and disappeared down the side of the hill. Not too much time had passed and he was walking back up the hill and towards the back of the car, popping the trunk then closing it, before eventually coming around to your door. You opened it and let yourself out, noticing that Ghiaccio was holding laces in his hand with a pair of shoes slung it over his shoulder, and based on context those were probably ice skates. Did Ghiaccio really like skating enough to own his own pair? He’d never mentioned it as a hobby before today.

Soon the two of you were trudging through some dense foliage and over to the side of a lake that was inexplicably frozen. You stared at it, wide-eyed.

“What the…?” you muttered, turning towards Ghiaccio with an expression that demanded answers. He offered none, giving you another smug smile before sitting down on a rock. “How did you know it was going to be�� it hasn’t even snowed yet this year!”

“I’ll tell you later tonight, if you really want to know,” he said. And he meant it. But right now there was something else he wanted to show you. “But I didn’t bring you here for the lake.”

You were able to suspend your incredulity for his sake, though it wasn’t easy. After the shock of the lake had fizzled out a little you watched him take the very nice, if not a little bit worn down, pair of ice skates in his hands. He slipped off the shoes he was currently wearing and slid his feet into the skates, lacing them up, while you watched him in silence.

“So you’re going to skate… by yourself?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “And I’m just going to do what, watch?”

“That’s the idea,” he said, finishing up and standing himself upright, maneuvering to the lake’s edge, and before you could complain he shot you one last look, a genuine smile, before he pushed himself onto the ice.

Your boyfriend didn’t share a lot of things with you, but you were surprised that he never saw fit to mention the fact that he was apparently a professional Olympic-level figure skater. Your initial shock at the state of the lake was completely forgotten as you watched him dance across the ice with a level of precision and grace that you had never expected from the man.

And he was pulling out all the stops to show off for you. Spinning in the air, skating low and practically parallel to the ground, skating backwards, skating on one leg with the other poised far behind him in the air. Every jump he made looked too risky, too intense to possibly land smoothly, but as you stood mesmerized you could almost swear that the ice raised up to meet him each time.

After his initial bout of tricks, he skated back over to you and his face looked more relaxed and content than you had ever seen it. “Impressed?” he asked with a confident lilt to his voice.

“Ghia… you’re incredible,” you said, still in a daze. “Why didn’t you tell me you skated?”

“Because I don’t,” he said, his posture tensing a bit, his expression almost embarrassed. “Not anymore. I’m banned from every major figure skating organization in Italy.”

“Oh my God, what happened?” you muttered, finally snapping back to reality and looking up at him with concerned eyes.

“Scandals. Sabotage. None of it helped by my temper,” he grumbled. “It’s this whole big fucking complicated nightmare that I don’t want to talk about right now.” He gestured for you to come meet him at the edge of the lake, and you stepped forward, taking your hands in his as he held them out. “But I loved figure skating. It was the best time of my life, before I met you, and I’m tired of pretending that time never existed. Even if all I can do now is share it with you, then that’s still something.”

“Oh, Ghiaccio, it’s okay” you cried out, your tone consoling, wrapping your arms around him in a firm hug, causing him to stumble a bit on his skates. “I love you so much. Thank you for sharing this part of you with me. I love you, I love you!”

“I get it, I get it, I love you too, you’re going to push me over!” he yelled, trying to pry you off of him. Eventually you released him and stepped back to flash him a tender smile, tears threatening to spill over the corners of your eyes. “What are you crying for?” he muttered, looking away from your intense expression.

“You were crying first!” you shot back, your tears finally flowing. Ghiaccio brought his hand up to his face and realized that he had indeed been gently weeping for a while and it had gone completely unnoticed by him. He huffed before turning around and skating away. “Don’t you skate away from your feelings, Mister!” you called after him.

You watched him skate for some time, seeing him getting lost in his own world out on the lake, chasing after something he thought he’d left behind. He was beautiful. Utterly beautiful. The whole night had been magic, the impossible frozen lake something from another realm. Eventually it got too dark to see properly before the both of you headed up the hill to the car, hand-in-hand.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Seven

Ao3,   Masterpost,  C.1   C.2   C.3   C.4   C.5   C.6

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, platonic dlampr.

okay. so. last time we heard anything out of me was *New Years*, Literally, and maybe i should’ve mentioned that I was taking a little hiatus, but oh well. i’m back now and i’m gonna post the last three chapters of this fanfiction as soon as I possibly can (so probably like all of them will be up by tmrw at the latest!!) to make up for my absence. but jokes on you, cuz I did actually finish this thing!!! >:P 

(oh yeah, and there are no italics, thanks to tumblr’s copy/paste bulls//t. i continue to be lazy :3 if anything sounds stilted just imagine that theres an italicized word there and yeah.)

Warnings: cursing, sexual innuendo, discussions of sexuality, misunderstandings, Emotional Conversations, sharing a bed, mild body horror (remus’ existence lol), stress, h/c. 

Word count: 7,967

The hallway was cold, and dark. It had been long-since abandoned of any life, with every door shut and each light dimmed- even Virgil’s. That day- the day of the meeting- had exhausted everyone enough to send them right to sleep mode. 

Everyone except Remus and Patton.

Their heart-to-heart in the kitchen had dragged on a little longer than either had expected, letting night descend fully over the Mindpalace. Patton was the one to notice the time eventually, and drag his less-than-restful friend up the stairs with him- he could tell that the other was dead tired, though. His stubborn determination not to end the conversation didn’t sit well, but Patton couldn’t think what to make of it, and they really did need some sleep. 

They reached Patton’s door first. He stopped in front of it, when Remus tugged his hand back insistently. He turned to him, letting out a confused hum, and was met with a scowl and a sigh.

Remus was looking even more resigned than he had when they first started talking that night. Patton waited, worried. 

“This isn’t, um,” Remus exhaled, ragged around the edges. “This isn’t a pick-up line, okay, and I know that it’ll sound that way and I know that it’s me but. I really don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

Oh. 

Patton’s heart ached- and his heart was big, it took up most of him. He felt the pain spread out from his center and into his fingertips and toes, hot and empathetic. Because how could he hear something like that, and not want to spend the rest of the night doting on the creature in front of him until that voice never sounded so small again, till he was as big and confident as he was meant to be?

“I don’t think I want to be alone, either,” Patton said.

Remus stared, his big scarlet eyes casting a faint glow in the dark. They were wide, cautiously hopeful.

“Yeah?” He muttered.

“Yeah.”

Patton opened the door, and led them both inside.

Remus shuffled around on the other side of the bed, but Patton was still, however much he wanted to squirm.

“Um.”

The movement stopped, and he flushed at the feeling of being watched in the dark. There really was no un-awkward way to say it, was there?

“Remus, since you’re staying, do you- um, do you mind doing me a favor?” 

Remus, little more than a silhouette, propped himself up on his elbow, a tilt to his head. “A favor? Of course, anything for you, Pat,” his words were a purr, and Patton could envision the suggestive smirk on his face in perfect clarity. Patton felt another well of discomfort bubble in his stomach.

“Could you at least wear some clothes, please?” 

There was a beat. Remus laughed, short and good-natured. 

“Yeah, I sorta figured I would. It’s no problem.”

“Thank you,” Patton sighed, relieved. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he paused, and that really would’ve been the end of it, but Patton had learned by then when Remus was about to make a joke. He took a little breath while the words were still clicking together in his head, and a grin crept into his voice. “There’s always tomorrow night to try this clothesless, eh?”

“I’m asexual,” Patton blurted, and he could feel the heat radiating from his face, though he didn’t even know why he was so uncomfortable. It was a joke, Remus was just joking. They were friends and Patton should’ve been used to it- but he’d already gotten so sensitive that night, and jokes like that always hit just a little different than the violent ones or the curses. It must have been a breaking point, or something. 

Remus shifted again, laying on his back. Patton wondered if he’d made things awkward. 

“Oh,” Remus said, “Oh wow, that makes so much sense!”

“It- It does?” Patton sat up, staring at the other with a mix of surprise and relief. Remus blinked up at him, nodding. 

“Well, yeah, that explains why you get so squirmy whenever anybody even implies something to do with sex. I always thought you were just, like, a prude.”

Patton ran his hands over the comforter that pooled around his legs, shrugging. He wasn’t nervous, so much as he was fidgety. “Well, maybe it was some of that, too,” he joked. 

Remus snorted, rolling onto his side and catching one of Patton’s hands in his own. He held it, playing with Patton’s fingers like he was trying to focus. 

“Hey,” he sighed, heavy, “Sorry.”

“Huh? What for?”

“C’mon, you know,” Remus gestured around with his free hand, “All the jokes, and all the times I hit on you, like, graphically. I was kidding, obviously, it was just that you always had the best reactions. If I’d known why, I mean. I don’t know if I’d have actually stopped, but whatever. Different time, different me. I’m stopping now, kay?”

Patton’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t- He wasn’t trying to make Remus stop, that wasn’t fair. He knew how important staying true to himself was to Remus, and if he’d actually managed to guilt-trip any of that away, he didn’t think he’d forgive himself.

“Oh, it’s really okay, I mean- I know you like talking about stuff like that, who am I to say you shouldn’t?”

“You never said that, actually.”

Patton nodded, even if Remus couldn’t see him, and even if he was pretty sure they were on different pages. “Exactly. You shouldn’t go changing just to make me comfortable, I’ll get used to the jokes! I guess I just wanted to know that they were, which, obviously yeah, but… um, I’m bad with knowing what tone is which, sometimes, so-”

“Ugh, Patton,” Remus was laughing, leaning up and grasping tighter around Patton’s hand, with a tone that said plainly: please shut up. Patton did, biting the inside of his cheek. “Look,” Remus huffed, “I know what you’re trying to say, and it’s real sweet that you’re so worried about this, but it’s not exactly like I’m telling you that I’m reinventing myself. I’ll definitely keep saying plenty of horny shit, trust me, I can just drop it with the comments about ya. It wouldn’t even be funny anymore; fucking with people is cool, right, but making someone I actually like feel ‘icky’, or whatever, isn’t really the same thing. It’s no big sacrifice trying to make you feel safer with me, got it?”

Remus’ eyes were on his, glowing with concern. Patton felt his face flush for an entirely new reason, nothing to do with embarrassment.

“You want to make me feel safe?” Patton grinned, just this side of giddy. “That’s a new one.”

Remus made a vague grumbly sound; it shouldn’t have been as cute as it was. “Yeah, okay, so what if I do?”

“It’s okay if you do. It’s sweet.”

“Maybe it is. Besides, you aren’t the only aspec side around,” he shrugged, “I’m not too big on the dating side of things, myself.”

Patton’s smile widened. “Thank you. I mean, for understanding, and… getting me out of my own head about all this.”

“I gotcha,” a claw traced over Patton’s knuckles, idly, “No need for thanks.”

“I’ll give it anyway, you know that.”

Remus snorted. “Mhmmm.”

With the remains of embarrassment finally fading away, Patton yawned, and remembered just how tired he was. He laid himself down finally, relaxing as his back hit the mattress. No sooner after he’d done so, Remus was letting go of his hand in favor of curling around him and setting his head on Patton’s chest. 

Patton would be lying if he said it wasn’t a relief, feeling the other unhesitant to curl up against him still. He looped his own arms around the smaller figure, practically on top of him, and traced patterns against Remus’ back. 

In hindsight, Patton couldn’t remember ever falling asleep so easily. 

The morning after, there was a crisis. A Thomas-crisis, and an emotional one, which set Patton up for a busy, busy day (or morning-through-afternoon, but it was well more than enough work for one day). The one upside to the whole mess was that he didn’t have to deal with it alone, because emotional distress fell neatly into Virgil’s area of expertise as well as his own.

At some point, you’d think they’d get numb to the endless dilemmas every other day, but with each new outing it got clearer and clearer that panic was just a part of life. Most weeks had at least one incident; there would be a mistake at the post office that needed to be worked out in person (which Patton didn’t mind, really, but Virgil hated, and Roman thought was a waste of time), there was an event for a friend of a friend that for some reason they were socially obligated to go to (which no one liked but Roman, who always thought they were one person away from being ‘discovered’), or- the present situation- there were pre-established plans that all the sides had somehow forgotten about until they were shoved into it at the last second.

Patton jolted awake with a gasp, the urgency of his human throwing him out of sleep. It was a full two hours later than he usually woke up, something he would’ve loved to appreciate on any other day. His bed was already empty- the warmth of another person still there, the covers still scrunched, but empty- which did serve to make his morning routine quicker. He dressed with a fervor that he couldn’t even place, manic exhaustion already soaking into him and making plans to stay there all day. It was going to be a rough one, being around people. 

But, Patton knew it wouldn’t be hard to ignore all that, for a little bit at least. There was still a bright side, and that side was Virgil! Who he got to spend all day with! Working, sure, but still- work done with a loved one is never work at all.

“Yeah, I don’t know if that rings true, Pat,” was Virgil’s response to the sentiment, when Patton told him.

“You’re smiling,” Patton said, because he was.

“What?” Virgil covered his mouth, “No, I’m not- shut up.” 

“You believe me, I know you do. You looove me.”

“Says you,” his mouth may have been covered, but the crows feet under his eyes creased more. His shoulders were just a little less tense, too, enough to tell Patton he was right. 

That morning wasn’t great, but, they made it better.

Remus had woken up in a lot of places that were decisively not his bed. The floor? Sure. The imagination? Oh, absolutely. Underneath furniture, on top of furniture, and on counters- anywhere lie-down-able, been there and done that. Just for the fun of it, really, and a nice shock to whoever found him curled up in the sink or beneath cabinets. He was used to a crick in the neck or a splotch of red, rough carpet print on the side of the face. 

So he didn’t really know why, waking up in someone else’s bed, he jolted out of it so quick, he looked like he’d been electrocuted. Or why, after scrambling out of Patton’s arms with whatever carefulness he could manage, he bolted from the scene entirely.

Remus began the slow process of piecing it together after he all but slammed the door behind him, trembling and cursing his way down the hall. He dragged away from Patton’s room and let his back hit the wall, sliding to the floor with a kind of hysteria he could only describe as itchy-vomity-terrifying-amazing. 

He did itch at his skin, he was feeling a bit sick, a bit scared, but he thought he might’ve been grinning anyway, so the description fit well enough. Except, nothing was fitting actually well, right then.

The closeness. The attention. The fact that he’d spent eight hours of sleep getting a full dosage of both those things. The fact that it had been more of both of them than he could remember getting, ever. Of course he’d scrambled away- how else could he react!?

Remus didn’t get overwhelmed. Except, apparently he did! What another fun surprise!

A door creaked open down the hall (thank God not Patton’s). Remus felt the eyes on him, and looked up- manically, he looked well and truly manic.

Logan blinked at him. He looked a lot like an owl in the mornings, Remus noted. One of those smart ones, obviously, not one of the ones that fucks around counting licks on a lollipop. 

Logan cleared his throat. 

“Remus? Is everything alright?” 

Remus shrugged, grinning. “Maybe! Who knows, though, right? It’s a lot, you know?”

Logan did not know, and said as much. Remus only laughed, letting his head hit back against the wall in the process.

He still felt warm, inside and out, after all that cuddling. It was weird, good-weird, but still so new. And, like he said, a lot. He’d felt that kind of warmth before, but definitely not as much- and he knew he needed to distract himself before he went crazy. Or, before his rattrap of a brain ruined the maybe-possibly good feelings for him. 

“Hey, any chance you’re busy today?”

Logan hovered in his doorway for a minute before ultimately deciding to step out, probably determining the interaction as a prolonged one. He didn’t look too put-off about it, though.

“A very high chance,” he said, “But for now I am not. Is there something you need?”

“A distraction.”

“Ah.”

“So, you up for it?” Remus pulled himself up from the floor, popping a few joints. “At least for the morning, yeah, Geek?” 

“Of course,” he smirked, “Provided you can call me by actual name at least once in this conversation.” 

Remus grinned, probably coming off more relieved than he intended. “Eh, we’ll see about that one, Dweeb.”

Logan met him halfway down the hall, not looking at all surprised by the response. He looked, if anything, amused. Remus found himself remembering very abruptly that the two of them got along, were probably friends, and somehow that fact was still novel to him. Or maybe it was the mood. Probably both.

“Well, it was worth a try,” Logan reasoned.

“Oh, sure.”

“What were you thinking we should do, anyway?”

Remus raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m afraid that’s off the table,” Logan told him.

“Aw, fine. Surprise me, then.”

“That will be hard.”

Remus laughed, unsteady and shrill.

“C’mon, I know you’ve got it in ya.” 

Logan smiled, just-nearly-almost mischievous. “Well. I’ll see what I can do.” 

And for just a second, some of the panic slipped away, leaving behind that strange warmth. 

Patton didn’t exactly let Janus know he was coming by. It had been a long day- or, a long five hour period between ten in the morning and three in the afternoon, but still, the idea that there was any day left at all made Patton want to melt into the nearest soft object and never get up. 

When Patton needed to melt, he went to Janus’. Maybe it was the big armchairs; maybe it was the comforting, gooey little white-lies that soaked the atmosphere of his room; maybe it was the fact that his voice was so very easy to fall asleep to. Most likely, at least part of it was because he always seemed to enjoy taking care of people, anyway. 

It was a nice combination, and exactly what was needed. Patton could apologize for not knocking later, ideally when he wasn’t falling asleep where he stood. 

“Janusss,” he groaned, by way of greeting, and promptly collapsed onto the nearest soft surface while the door swung shut behind him. 

Janus blinked at him from across the room, surprise lasting for approximately three seconds. He turned around, and sighed.

“Well, hello to you, too.”

Patton hummed, drearily.

“You look cheery,” Janus quipped, “Anything you’d like to talk about?” 

The question was spoken lightly, but not insincere. Patton lifted his head enough to smile tiredly at the snake. He shrugged, for the room was working it's magic already, as was the easy company to be found there. Stress was easing away, in small bits, evaporating into warm shimmers under his skin. He had no doubt that Janus was doing some of it on purpose, as soon as he’d noticed the mood Patton was in, giving him a blanket of speckled reassurances (which were, as Janus insisted to him time and time again, just a tiny, harmless breed of pleasant lies) in an almost-literal way. 

Most things about the sides’ rooms were like that. Almost-literal; concepts that crept their way into the physical world, if only slightly. Janus was the best at those kinds of things, though. 

“’S just been a tiring day, y’know?” 

Janus sat beside him, toying with some spare yellow strings, weaving and unweaving them almost carelessly. “I do.”

“A tiring night, too,” Patton added, an afterthought, but he found as he said so that it was true. Long in a good way. An impactful way. It felt like something important had happened, something that changed, but he didn't quite know what. It was still just as draining, though.

Janus raised an eyebrow, but he did not pry (even if he most likely wanted to).“So, you’ve come here.”

“Do you mind if I just rest in here for a bit?” He said, as he’d already gotten quite comfortable.

“Why don’t I do you one better?”

Patton hummed confusedly, but Janus had already begun urging him to sit up. The snake waved a hand, filling the room with light, swirling piano music. At once the air seemed to grow fuzzy, spicks and specks of what looked like golden glitter floating around- not unlike from the distortion Patton’s own room gave him when he was happy. Janus smiled down at him, summoning a neat little tea set on a tray and fixing them each a cup of the swirling, caramel-colored liquid. 

Patton sighed happily, taking the teacup he was proffered and thanking the lord for whatever he’d done to deserve a friend like Janus. 

Janus sat beside him, balancing the tea tray on an end table, and let their shoulders bump. He wasn’t a touchy person, exactly, but he allowed for a conservative amount of casual intimacy. Occasionally, and in an unspoken way, but still.

The atmosphere had exactly the intended effect. Patton felt paradisiacal. 

“Gosh, what would any of us do without you?” 

Janus hummed. “You’d most certainly perish.”

Patton laughed, his chest lighter already. 

Remus felt good for about ten seconds after leaving Logan’s room and letting the guy get to work, fresh off the good morning he’d had. Then, very promptly, the weight that the remaining hours of daylight carried dropped onto his shoulders, and he would’ve been perfectly willing to claw his brain out to get a moment of reprieve from the whole barrage of irrational terror worming around in it.

Remus didn’t know why it was so bad that day (well- he had a guess, but thinking about it obviously made it suck worse, so). What he did know was that he needed someone to keep fucking distracting him, and that someone could under no circumstances be Patton.

Luckily, avoiding him wasn’t hard- he was still busy, and Remus had a feeling he’d need a rest once Thomas’ crisis was over, anyway- but that didn’t do much to solve the other half of Remus’ problem.

He needed something big, loud, and most importantly, not solo. He needed someone that could take up a whole room just as easily as himself, with endless energy to bounce back and forth, back and forth, until neither of them would ever worry about anything other than the moment and whatever it was they would do together… 

Oh, god fucking dammit. 

Remus sunk out to the Imagination. No, not his. The opposite half.

He rose up into more than a blank canvas, but less than a finished work; a vibrant world with gaps and white spots. He might’ve taken the time to look around, but- unsurprisingly- his brother was in front of him, accosting him, immediately. Seriously, it was like he’d teleported. 

“What are you doing here?” Roman snapped, his hands, still splattered with ink, landing on his hips. 

“Aw, so now I’m not even allowed to visit my own flesh and blood, and other various parts?” 

Roman scrunched his nose up. “No, you aren’t allowed. This is my room!”

Remus- as he always did when someone said he couldn’t do something- cackled. 

“I’m serious!” Roman whined, “I’m busy!”

Now, he said that, but Remus knew from personal experience that if Roman wanted him gone, he could’ve forced him out without too much issue- or worse yet, attacked him outright. He didn’t seem to be about to spring, though, not looking any worse than annoyed, so Remus happily decided that this interaction fell into the normal-and-healthy-sibling-bickering category instead of the unfortunately familiar would-genuinely-commit-fratricide-if-possible category. 

He grinned. “Yeah, and I’m bored!”

“Not my problem, and you’re still in my room.” 

“What, worried I’ll gunk up all your magic ponies and Yellow Brick Roads, or whatever it is you like to play with around here?”

“Yes, I am!” Roman scowled, but it looked a lot like he was straining his jaw not to laugh. “And you know I don’t make those, you fiend, I made a unicorn once and that was only because Logan wanted one.”

“You’re shitting me if you say that you weren’t the kid who always wanted a pony, Ro.”

“Well, how’s a pony any better than a thestral, which I seem to remember someone getting all excited about when we first read the-books-that-shall-not-be-named?”

“Ooh! Good idea, we should abso-fucking-lutely make those!” Remus wandered past his brother, looking around at the half-finished scene that he’d walked in on. It was sunny, pleasant- all around very vanilla, but there was at least a sense of adventure thrumming under it that gave the place a kick. With some work, it could actually be, like, fun! “Ever see somebody die? Don’t worry, I can help with that.”

Roman turned to him, looking hilariously incredulous with what was happening.

“Um? Excuse me? This is my domain,” he blinked, and a smug smirk crossed his lips. “Which means that you don’t have the power to make anything here! So, ha!”

Oh, right. That made a lot of sense, actually. How had he forgotten that? It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d tried to make something with his brother, right? 

…Wow. That had no business hurting as much as it did.

“Uh- Remus?” 

His head snapped up, a smile with too-many teeth already strained across his face. Remus’ head was scattered enough, coming here wasn’t supposed to make it worse.

“Sure, okay- there’s gotta be some way for us to build stuff together!” 

Roman stared appraisingly at his sibling, apparently thinking before he argued for the one and only time in his life. He tilted his head in confusion, perhaps worry. 

“I- well-” Roman glanced at what he’d been making, and down at his hands. “I’m sure I could, perhaps, let you have power here. Just this once.” He huffed. “It’s my room, right? So there’s no reason why I couldn’t do that, if I wanted.”

“Do you?” 

“Ugh.” Roman rolled his eyes, perfunctorily. “Fine. I don’t know what’s up with you, but I’d rather you be your normal weird-self than… whatever this is,” Roman stuck his hand out, his chin raised like it was a challenge. “Good?”

Remus grabbed his hand (and did not buzzer him, or slime him, even though it would have been so easy- because they were having A Moment and even he could appreciate the sanctity of something like that). 

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re good.”

Roman, as it turned out, was able to tolerate Remus for a whopping six hours, right up until five p.m., and only shooed him away in order to finish the project that he’d more-or-less happily dropped when Remus stopped by. So Roman wasn’t the worst brother in the world, Remus acknowledged. He then resolved to never, under any circumstances, say that to Roman’s face. 

The door to the Imagination shut with a click. The sound matched almost perfectly with another, sharper one down the hall, what Remus recognized as Janus’ door closing. He glanced up with a grin, wondering if he could maybe get Snakey to distract him for a while- only to lock eyes with precisely what he needed distracting from.

Patton smiled at him. He looked tired, relaxed, and raised a hand in some semblance of a wave. It would probably be a great opportunity to unwind together, talk stuff out, and definitely curl into each other on the couch.

Remus wasn’t going to take that opportunity, though.

Remus stared back at Patton for all of three seconds, the grin sliding off his face, before barging through the nearest door and slamming it behind himself. 

Shit. Fuck. What the hell did he do that for? It was just Patton, Remus knew Patton; there was no reason to be jittery enough to bolt from him twice. There was no way Patton wouldn’t think he was mad- which he wasn’t, even if he barely understood why he was losing it, he knew it wasn’t anger. But Patton wouldn’t know that, and he’d cry, probably, and Remus wasn’t sure if he was good enough at comforting people to fix it after. Christ, maybe he couldn’t fix it, maybe he’d still be too keyed up to talk to Pat, even if he started bawling! 

“Hey? What the fuck?”

Remus spun around, and yeah, he could’ve guessed whose room he ended up in without the gravelly voice to give it away, given that little spiral. A surprised-looking Virgil stared up at him, sitting cross-legged on a spiderweb bedspread. 

Remus ignored the thin layer of anxiety still rolling under his skin (now that he could place it), and shrugged, sliding until he sat on the floor.

“Oh, hi,” he said.

“Yeah, hi to you too, but my question still stands:” Virgil clapped his hands together, “What. The fuck?” 

Remus considered a few possible snarky responses, but found that most of them were pretty pathetic. Besides, evading vulnerable situations was more of Janus’ thing, and Remus didn’t want to steal his bit. 

“I’m hiding like a little bitch, so don’t kick me out, or I’ll maul you.”

Virgil’s eyebrows went up, but the surprise in his face was being replaced, slowly, by confused resignation. “Okay, cool. Why here, and why me?”

“First door.”

“Yeah, that’s about my luck,” he blew his bangs out of his face, “So like, you’re not gonna go anywhere else?”

Remus thought about it, but it was an easy choice. If he was gonna whine to anybody about something like this, he decided, it’d probably be Virgil. Virgil was good with fear, he was good with Patton, and he was good at making fun of shit if a conversation got too serious. 

“Nah. Sorry, Emo Boy, but I’ve already annoyed Logan and my dipshit brother today. Looks like it’s your turn!”

“What about Janus?”

“Eh, he’s a live-in therapist for the rest of you already. I think I’ll give him the day off.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, sighing with all the exasperation of a teenage burnout and not a thirty-year-old metaphysical humanoid.

“Okay, okay- and why’s Patton off the table? He, like, actually enjoys helping people,” Virgil glanced down, scuffing the carpet with the side of his foot. “He’s good at it, too.”

“Yeahhhh,” Remus locked his teeth together, inhaled through them, “About that.”

“What, aren’t you two all close now?” Virgil frowned, “I fuckin’ saw you guys at the meeting yesterday, you were so on top of each other, I feel like I forgot that you were two separate sides,” to anybody who didn’t know him, the way he talked about it would sound harsh. Remus, however, knew exactly how soft Virgil really was- the fucking poser- and that that shit? That was pure encouragement, raw as a bloody, bloody steak. 

Which, of course, only made Remus wince again.

He flopped sideways onto the floor, groaning. “Yeah, we’re close. That’s- I think that might be the problem?” That sounded right, almost, but just wrong enough to feel icky and annoying. “Ugh, I don’t know. So I just ran!”

There was a beat.

“Wait a second,” Virgil’s voice was tight- oh that bitch, he was laughing! “You’re hiding from Patton?”

Remus huffed. Okay, so maybe it was a little funny, he could appreciate that- but! He was still upset about it!!

“I mean, what has he done to scare you off?” Virgil pressed, “Too many compliments? Did he hug you too hard? I know the dude can be a lot sometimes, but-”

“Okay, ok-ay,” Remus couldn’t help it, he managed a laugh at it, too. “It’s ridiculous! It’s fucking ridiculous and he’s not even the problem!”

“Then what is the problem?” Virgil was snickering, “And don’t say that it’s you, dude. At least one of us around here has to not hate himself to hell and back, and you’ve defended that title for too long to lose it,” he cleared his throat right after he said it, sitting up straighter and trying to look like he hadn’t just been laughing like a huge dork. “Not that I’m, like, worried about you or anything.”

“Aw, you so are,” Remus stared up at the ceiling, grinning despite the ache in his chest. “But no, it’s not that. He thinks I’m awesome and he’s right, so don’t worry.”

Virgil leaned over him, staring upside-down at Remus. He squinted.

“Hey, this a serious problem?”

“I guess so. You can joke about it, though.”

“Cool. Um,” Virgil pulled away. Remus sat up, watching the trait cross one leg over the other, flip them, then tap his knee one-two-three-etc. times. He chewed on his lip. The whole nine yards of a classic Focused-Virgil Face. “Okay. You can tell me about it, seriously. I’ll try to help, or whatever.”

Remus blinked at him.

“Don’t- Jesus- don’t make a big deal out of it, dude-”

“Oh, I am.”

“I don’t even have a choice, okay, you’re the one who-”

“You’re so sweet, Virgey!”

“Remus, I swear to God, repeat that to anyone and I…” 

Virgil trailed off. Remus pouted at him, dramatically, his eyes practically glowing with mischief. “C’mon, aren’t you going to threaten me?”

“I was, and then I remembered that you’re like, actually into that kinda stuff, so. No. Nope, I’m good.”

“Fine,” he shrugged, “Looks like you’re resigned to just hearing about my feelings, instead!”

Virgil rolled his eyes again- of course he did- but there was no hiding the way he went quiet, patient, you could even call it attentive.

It was an offering, one that Remus didn’t hesitate to take. 

Patton left Janus’ room in a good mood.

He was in a considerably less good mood when, as soon as he’d left, Remus saw him and scrambled away like Patton was about to attack him where he stood- wide-eyed with fear and everything.

Patton swayed in the hallway for seconds after, uncertain about a lot of things suddenly. 

The room Remus had run into had definitely been Virgil’s, not his own, and for a moment Patton entertained the idea of just going up to knock. He dropped that thought quick, realizing that if he really wasn’t wanted, then he definitely didn’t want to confirm that he wasn’t wanted.

He might have gone back to Janus- Janus was smart, Janus knew how to explain things and solve problems and comfort people- but that was scrapped, too. He’d taken up plenty of the snake’s time already, firstly, and secondly… No, yeah, Patton already knew just who he needed to see for something like this. 

Logan set aside his laptop as soon as Patton walked into the common room, a surprisingly perceptive gesture for someone who claimed to be bad with feelings. Or maybe Patton had just gotten rusty at hiding them.

“Hi,” he greeted, wobbly.

“Hello,” Logan said, “You look upset.”

Patton stared at the wall just above his friend’s head, and nodded.

“Can I help?”

He paused. It was a bad habit- one of many!- but feeling unwanted by one side made him wonder if, maybe, he was unwanted by everyone. The thought formed a lump in his throat and had guilt pooling in his gut, but this was Logan. His best friend, the person he had gone to because he always knew just where he stood with him. If Logan didn’t want to help- no, because he always wanted to- if he couldn’t handle helping, then he would tell Patton that. He always did.

“I think Remus is upset with me,” Patton blurted it out quickly, just so he didn’t have to hear them. Logan vanished his laptop at once, gesturing to the spot beside him on the sofa. Patton sat with him, smiling feebly.

“Has he said anything of the sort?”

“No,” Patton picked at the sleeve of his sweater, “He didn’t really have to. He kind of… ran away from me?”

Logan’s eyes widened behind his frames, almost imperceptibly. “I see.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” Patton flushed with the admission, because of just how true it was. He had no idea what he did, and still he felt blame settling over him like a well worn blanket, and all that he could do was hope it wasn’t as bad as the last time. “I feel like I should know this stuff by now, shouldn’t I?”

There was a pause, as Logan processed the words carefully, seemed to turn them over in his head. 

“Be careful not to jump to conclusions, Patton. He typically freely expresses how he is feeling at any given time, so even if his actions seem to say otherwise, it’s entirely possible that he’s not upset with you,” Logan smiled reassuringly. “I find that most of his actions are meaningless. He’s a very weird creature.”

Patton managed to laugh at that. Logan leaned their shoulders together, a little pride flashing in his eyes, as he continued. “He did seem to be ‘out of it’, in a manner of speaking, when we spoke earlier today. It would make sense if that had worsened over the past few hours, and now he’s just particularly flighty. All in all, I wouldn’t read too much into it, if I were you.”

Patton nodded, resolutely not mentioning that they’d spent the night together, however relevant that was. He knew it would sound paranoid to imply that their intimacy had backfired, or come too quick- because Patton was paranoid, and certainly a little neurotic, and the less he voiced it the better. 

Instead, he followed the advice he didn’t believe, and let himself rest against his friend. Logan had laced their fingers together; it wasn’t as comforting as it usually was. 

Logan was only so touchy when it was for the sake of others, and almost always that ‘other’ was Patton. A fact that made the needy trait feel amazingly special most of the time, but on nights like that… More than anything, he felt greedy.

“I’ll ask him about it,” Patton promised, because he knew that was what Logan would suggest (even if the idea made him more than a little dreadfilled). “Maybe I overwhelmed him. He’s been cuddly, so I thought…” Patton shook his head, bile hitting the back of his throat as the realization collapsed upon him. “That’s probably it. I must have took it too far.”

Logan didn’t pry, but Patton could feel his concern mount just as well as he could see the frown on his face.

“Talking to him will be the best course of action,” he said plainly. “For the time being, though,” he released Patton’s hand, wrapping his arm loosely around Patton’s waist and leaving it there. “It might be beneficial for you to receive more reassurance. Is this alright?”

“Yes,” Patton ducked his head, knowing full well how obviously relieved he sounded, “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I’m happy to help,” Logan told him, and he had no doubt that it was true. Still, it always surprised him anyway- and that at least was a good thing about a friend who was so reserved. The pleasant surprises.

Patton sat up enough to rest his head on top of Logan’s, a position that was almost but not quite cuddling.

“I sincerely hope,” Logan muttered, “That everything will be alright for you.”

Whether he was speaking only about the Remus situation or not was unclear.

“Me too.”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s very difficult to stay upset with you, if he truly is so. In my experience, at least.”

Patton sighed. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Of course. Your happiness is-... you, are very important to me, and I can only hope that you’ve made a friend that values you as much as I do.”

Patton knew what he meant by it. Both he and Logan were acutely aware of how different they were, and how little they matched with each other. Patton couldn’t understand him- not wanting to be showered in love, enjoying silence and a little bit of alone time, needing space. He knew that Logan didn’t get him, either- didn’t know why he cried all the time, or why nothing ever seemed to fix him for good, or why he said so many things that went without saying. They still struggled with each other’s languages, sometimes, but they’d gotten miles and miles better with it over the years. Sometimes Patton thought that the only way they’d become so close was sheer willpower, pushing past each misunderstanding and argument just because they liked the challenge of it. Determination was always a common thread between them, whatever differences they had.

They had to have boundaries, then. Logan might not hold Patton on his worst days, but he’d give him notes and gifts and bring him water, food, things that he neglected for himself. Patton didn’t have any of the right words to talk Logan down when things got bad, but he was always there to cheer him back up when he was ready again. Neither of them understood each other, and maybe they never would, but they cared. Even if they couldn’t be what the other needed, they cared, and that was all they had to do. 

So even if Logan couldn’t fix things, Patton thought, he still did a hell of a good job patching them up. 

“Hey. Hey!”

Patton turned around with a jolt, his fingers going tight in the blanket about his shoulders. How long he’d been downstairs, he didn’t know- but he knew that he was really, very tired, and now was left blinking and confused at the person accosting him with so much energy. 

“Um, hi,” Patton tried.

Remus had run up to him at once, and was just as suddenly seizing both of his hands. Patton might have taken a moment to appreciate the touch, but with just one sentence that positivity crumbled:

“I need to talk to you.”

Patton shoved a plastic smile onto his face. He always felt a little icky to be faking it, but with Remus, the shame was especially thick. Still, it was only instinct. 

“Okay.”

Patton opened the door; the Duke marched in without waiting for invitation, and he followed. 

Dread dripped down his spine like melting ice cubes. This is fine, Patton told himself firmly, once they were both sitting feet apart on the bed. He refused to think too hard about what the distance meant- if it meant anything at all, or if he was only being ridiculous.

“Sorry about today,” Remus began, “Really. I was freaking out for the stupidest fucking reason. You’ll laugh when I tell you!”

Patton didn’t laugh, but he smiled a little more wholly. If Remus was upset with him, the apology must’ve meant at least some of that had faded away. Probably.

“It’s okay, Mess,” the nickname rolled off his tongue easily. Remus grinned at him, but it was somehow more manic than usual.

“I probably got you all worried over nothing, bolting on you before you could wake up- and then again earlier, right?”

There was a pause, as Patton tried to decide if the question was rhetoric or not. When the silence stretched on uncomfortably, he found himself nodding. 

Remus huffed out a breath, rocking back and staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I- I’m still working at the whole self-improvement thing, ya know? That probably doesn’t make it better, but- I’ve never really had a reason to try and be, uh, considerate. Janus never really cared if I was a bitch, and nobody else ever mattered, and that- yeah, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.” 

His voice was raspy, low and thick in a way that it almost never was. Patton tipped his head to the side, confused. Remus looked- and sounded- awkward, an expression that was not at home on his face. 

“Wait, um- so it wasn’t anything I did? You’re not upset with me?”

Remus looked at him like he was crazy (ironic, that).

“Upset with you?” He crowed, “Why the fuck would I be upset with you?”

Patton flushed; he laughed embarrassedly, or maybe in relief; he toyed with the sleeves of his sweater.

“I didn’t really- I don’t know, but I was worried that I’d, um, overstepped some boundaries last night, and maybe made you uncomfortable.”

He was only kind of looking at his friend, from out the corners of his eyes. It was still easy to see the way Remus went from confused to amused, and then burst into cackles.

“You- You- Me? Morey, please, it takes a lot to make me uncomfortable- if that’s even possible, actually- and you sure as shit haven’t figured out how to pull it off yet. Sugar, I asked to stay with you!”

The relief flooded Patton all in a rush, and he felt himself finally relax. With Remus laughing and joking and being his usual (sweet, impressively sweet, surprisingly so) self again, it all started seeming a little silly. Remus must’ve seen him coming untense, folding down the same way accordion-pressed paper sprawled out when it was released from a bored student’s hand, because his gaze went warm, like something had finally clicked into place in his head. A problem solved, and what a wonderful solution it had come to- that’s what the look said. 

Patton met the smile just as brightly when the Duke shifted over some of the distance between them, taking up both of Morality’s hands in his own yet again. 

“Well, since it wasn’t something I did,” Patton said, “Then what was the actual problem?”

Remus didn’t look too upset at the question, but he was glancing down, up, sideways- his pupils flitted around the room without really touching on anything for too long; it wasn’t often that he was so obviously thinking something through. His fingers flexed, face a little pink, and he hesitated before answering:

“Okay, it’s like I said, right? I don’t- I’ve never needed to try to be anything for anybody before. I mean that I never wanted to do things in a conform-y way, obviously, but, I never wanted to be considerate, either,” he smirked down at their tangled hands, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad for a first try, to be honest- but that’s not the point, the point is- this is… new.”

Patton opened his mouth, reassurances rushing to the tip of his tongue before he was hastily shushed.

“No, look, there’s a difference between being a pushover and just being fucking nice to the people you care about. That’s the problem- or I thought it was a problem, in my dipshit lizard-panic brain this morning- right? I’ve never wanted to do anything for people, because I didn’t need them anyway. I figured I didn’t, I guess, cuz I could survive without ‘em- it wasn’t like I had a choice, but I got on fine. Not to be too… I don’t know, pathetic? Who cares, but- I never knew anything different.”

Patton’s eyes went wide and watery, like the blue of his irises were soaking into everything else and leaking, leaking, leaking. He was squeezing Remus’ hands a little too tight, certainly, and he just wanted to hug him so bad- but despite his words, Remus didn’t even seem to need it. He looked back at Patton, huffed a sigh, looking just plain amused.

“So this hit me when I was talking to Virgil, about ten minutes ago,” he started, “That I woke up today, with you, and I had this thought like… Fuck, I don’t ever wanna move again. I could starve and then start to decompose and probably rot into bloody mush, but I’d probably still be perfectly happy- which is weird, because starvation is easily one of the boringest ways to die, I could go out so much cooler- but, it was more the fact that I was with you, and uh. So, so I thought that- which is so dumb and sappy- and it surprised me so bad that I just ran. And after I had, I was so freaked out, I didn’t even remember why for!”

He took a deep breath, something that he hadn’t done for that entire ramble. Patton got the sense he still wasn’t finished though, and waited patiently.

“I never needed anybody caring about me for me to be okay- the screaming and the fleeing and all that was fine, it was still a reaction. But I think I just realized that I couldn’t go back to that, now.

“Because of you. I knew I liked you, but it never clicked that things would probably suck without you by this point. More than that, I guess- it hit me that just because I can take care of myself, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t fucking blow. That I don’t- I don’t want to be so independent again, okay? That I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

And he couldn’t help it at all; Patton did hug him, then. He pulled him against his chest as soon as he noticed the words going choppy, choked, and halting. He let go of Remus’ hands, in favor of tangling his fingers in the Duke’s hair and carding through it.

Remus met the embrace with just as much fervor, curling up into the bigger trait. Yet somehow, he wasn’t crying yet.

“Hey, hey, I’m alright,” he murmured, “I mean, don’t let go, obviously- but I’m okay. I had all day to panic! Which I definitely did, by the way, because my whole worldview got screwed over. Finally know how you feel, I guess,” He was joking, Patton could hear his smile. He laughed. “But I got it out of my system, and ya know what I realized after that?”

Patton hummed attentively, letting Remus pull back just enough to see his face.

“I said, ‘okay, I’m processing that, and it doesn’t matter.’ It doesn’t matter because I only realized that maybe I need people once I already had them, and- no offense- but you don’t really seem like the abandoning type. The opposite, that’s what you are.”

Patton beamed. 

“Of course not,” he swore, pressing the words out as though intensity alone could make them more true, more pure. “Never, not ever.”

“Good,” Remus said, “Cuz I’m hanging on to ya, Pat. As long as I can.”

Chapter Eight

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

[banescrown]

Ahhh CONGRATULATIONS FOR 100 💖

Can you write a Thomastair based on Sasha's song 'Someone you hate' (I might write this myself but well, I wann read yours)

Also, you deserve a million more followers 💖💖💖

@starryherondales 🥺🥺😭Thank you, I love you, you’re the sweetest❤️❤️❤️. I’m not really sure how this went, but I hope you like it cuz I have really mixed feelings about it lol. (I only added the first half of the song, cuz I couldn’t make this that long; and idk what direction I took this in I’m sorry) 

Bold italics are lyrics, italics are the memory

~~~~~~~~

Thomastair - Someone You Hate

Ship: Thomas Lightwood x Alastair Carstairs

Prompt: Song- Someone You Hate by Sasha Sloan

Word Count: 1019 words

~~~~~~~~

Told your mama I'd take care of you

Alastair lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, he knew he wouldn’t be able to, but he tried anyway. Tried to sleep so he could escape reality for even a few hours, to deal with his mess of a life in the morning. Maybe in his sleep, those hazel eyes wouldn’t haunt him.

Loaded up the car

Drove into the dark

Things had been going great with Thomas, their past being put aside and they’d both been happy, and in love. Alastair missed the days when they first confessed their feelings for each other, when their relationship had been new and exciting, and it seemed like nothing would be able to tear them apart.

Billboard signs and skylines painted blue

Life had been so wonderful then. They’d been so at ease with each other, it was almost like they’d never fought. They go for walks and just talk, about everything and nothing. Or they’d lay side by side in comfortable silence, just being in each other presence was enough.

We made it a home

But I felt alone

Until it wasn’t. As time went by, they’d begun to bicker, more and more, each argument worse than the last, and Alastair wondered whether they had rushed into this, whatever relationship they had. Soon they had started seeing each other less and less, which didn’t unnoticed by their friends. Cordelia had come to him on numerous nights asking him if things were alright between them and had held him as he cried, because in truth he didn’t know.

We were growing, growing apart

And I knew I had to break your heart

He’d seen Thomas today. He had come over, try and move past their most recent fight, and Alastair didn’t even remember what it was about. But instead, somehow they’d wound up arguing again, and Alastair had simply walked out and didn’t bother to see if Thomas would follow.

He didn’t.

So, off I went

Haven't seen you since

“Why can’t you just TRY and get along with Matthew!” Thomas questioned, visibly upset. 

 “Because I don’t like him. At all. I try to be civil with him, even when he decides to make numerous jabs at me, which by the way you do nothing about, all for your sake. I just don’t have any interest at in starting any sort of friendship with him.” Alastair replied, not looking up from his book.  

“Yes you weren’t so kind to him in the past you know” Thomas was clearly very exasperated, and Alastair knew soon he’d give up and leave soon. The thought didn’t make his heart sink as much as it should have, which made him feel worse.

I went from

Someone you held, you held when you were lonely

“Yes well, Matthew wasn’t exactly a saint either Thomas, which you conveniently ignore.” Alastair shot back, looking up to glare at Thomas. “And I tried apologizing, he didn’t want to accept, it’s not my problem he wants to take to heart something I said at FIFTEEN years old. I’m not going to grovel at his feet for forgiveness, especially when I can hardly stand him” 

“It would not kill you to at the very least try again.”

“Yes well I don’t want to how about that”

“You’re being impossible!” Thomas looked livid, as if somehow this was Alastair’s fault. Alastair was seething.

Someone you called, you called your one and only

“Me? I’m the impossible one? For not wanting to be friends with someone decides to hold on to my past that I’ve tried to move past, someone who constantly insults and humiliates me every chance he gets, someone who has openly deprecated me just for my colour and looks, and you really want me to be friends with him? You stand and do nothing because he is your friend, and that makes you no better than him. It is a miracle I haven’t lost my mind and tried to possibly kill him.” Alastair had stood up, and his voice was at a shout. 

I threw it all away

“You cannot expect so much of me just because I love you,” because, despite it all, Alastair did. He always would, and no amounts of quarrels in the world would ever be able to stop Alastair from loving Thomas, no matter how angry he would get. “If you really want to label me the impossible one, then sure go ahead.”

Thomas was at a loss for words, and opened his mouth to say something, but Alastair didn’t bother. He walked out his room, muttering about going for a walk, silently hoping Thomas would follow and they could talk it out. He knew he wouldn’t, it didn’t stop him from hoping, and he was right, but he kept walking, not caring where he was going.

I went from someone you love

Alastair had stayed out for hours, and when he’d come home Thomas had left. He hadn’t gone down for dinner, and when Cordelia came in asking if he was alright, it strained him to put on a smile and say he was fine. He knew she didn’t believe him, but she just gave him a sad smile and left.

Alastair didn’t know how this would end for him. For them. He’d been in a bad relationship before, Charles had been controlling and manipulative, and he had gotten his heart broken. He thought with Thomas it would not happen again. But now he wondered. Wondered whether maybe they weren’t right for each other, maybe they never had been. Maybe their history was too much for them to be together. Or maybe it was just them. Maybe they just didn’t fit. Maybe they had grasped onto broken strings and hoped to tie them together. Alastair didn’t know. He didn’t really care. He just wanted it to stop, he just wanted to lay with Thomas, to talk with him and hold him, to enjoy his company, without anticipating a fight.

Maybe, one day, they could put themselves together again.

To someone you hate

~~~~~~~~

Yes so here it is, the first ficlet thingy I’ve posted on Tumblr!! I have a few more written so I’ll start posting those too but I hope you guys liked this :)

[I don’t have a tag list yet, so if you want to be added to my tag list please tell me <3]

[todaydreambelieversfic]

Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 3

Author : @coffeegleek​

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

At least a few revisions. Then multiple editing passes, and even with my spouse as my proofreader for the past 25+ years, and doing more editing passes before posting to AO3, I still find annoying little typos, sometimes large ones.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

There was a crack fic I stopped writing years ago. It was a self-challenge during one of those tumblr trope challenges. I was trying to combine all of the tropes into the same fic as they were announced. It got zero traction though so I gave up. I'd love to go back and complete it, make it better. I had the whole thing outlined too.

What do you look for in a beta?

My spouse. We've been together for decades. He's been proofreading my original science fiction work and various fandoms' fanfics since before we were married. He even proofreads my Klaine smut and doesn't blink an eye. (He's a Glee fan too and on tumblr.) He knows what I'm trying to say when I can't find the right words and supplies them. He catches things I don't. What I love the most is for my original work, he's written his own fanfic. It's BAD. It truly is, but it's so heartfelt and earnest. He even came up with a soundtrack should I ever publish my sci-fi novel and the movie or show rights be bought. You really can't get a better beta than that. <3

There’s a number of friends on tumblr that I bounce ideas off of and who give me advice for topics they know far more about than me and google. I try to thank them in my fics.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I’m going to steal another author’s recent answer and say that I could never do someone else’s work justice. However, I would love to see the author’s ideas for their fics even if they couldn’t write a prequel or sequel.

I suck at remembering titles and author names. There were two political fics that I would love to read more of should their authors ever decide to write in those verses again. One was where Kurt and Blaine's dads were running for president and Kurt and Blaine were along for the ride, staying in the same hotels at time (where they first met,) having to do school remotely, having to be the perfect sons for the press and Blaine being fed up because his parents were conservative Republicans. Then there was another fic where Burt was president and Kurt was the First Son living in the White House, along with Finn, and it was hard to date when your every move is watched by the press.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I write AU, so canon is only a word often misspelled by me. :) Seriously though, I try to incorporate as many canon elements and characters into my AU fics as I can. It's the kind of AU I like to read as well. What draws me to read and write AUs is taking canon characters, putting them into a different setting, and seeing how they'll react. At their core, they still need to remain the same in principle and have many of the same traits. Like Kurt will always love fashion and be headstrong no matter what. Blaine is always going to have that spark within himself, no matter how depressed or oppressed he gets. Burt and Carole are always going to be loving and nurturing parents at heart. Even in fics where Burt isn't woke, there's a part of him that means well. (Not one of my own fics, but one I read a long time ago.) Different circumstances will change the canon characters and make them react in different ways though. Like, Kurt could end up more withdrawn and hide his love of fashion as a matter of survival and self preservation. He or Blaine could turn into "bad boys." Coach Beiste will always have a heart of gold. Miss Pillsbury will always have a problem with messes. Things like that. I know canon. Give me all the alternate universe versions of it and I will be a happy camper.

Talk about a review that made your day.

I haven't checked for reviews on my fics in ages (because I'm an insecure chicken) so I don't remember any specifically. I do remember there were many that made my day. There are those who take the time to review every chapter. Ones who write only a short note to thank me for writing the fic - both the angsty ones and the cracky fun ones. I love it when someone mentions something that no one else has that I was hoping someone would notice because I was proud of it. I'm not a popular author and don't get a lot of kudos or comments or reblogs compared to many. So each comment and kudos means a lot to me and I'd like to publicly thank every single person who wrote one or hit that kudos button.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I once got a troll who decided it was his job to complain that I had misspelled hors d'oeuvres in one sentence out of an entire verse where the word was written multiple times correctly. It was a series of Klaine Advent one shots for the Empty Nest verse. At first I was shocked and replied with an apology. Then I was, "F this. The person is a troll who didn't read any other part of the fic or verse, just this one quickly written one shot entry, and if all they had to say was that I'd misspelled a commonly misspelled word, then they aren't worth my time." I deleted the comment. There's concrit and trolling. It wasn't concrit.

What advice do you have for people just starting to write?

Have fun writing, even the hard stuff. Know that it's okay to take breaks. Try your best and know you'll get better the more you write and the more you read. Pronouns are your friend and free. Don't put, "I know this is going to suck, so whatever," in your fic description. We all suck at times. It's a part of writing. But if you want folks to read it, using that as your fic's summary isn't the way to go. Just my opinions, which won't even buy you a cup of coffee.

Which fic do you most like to discuss with other people? Why?  

I think it’s pretty obvious from all of my rambling that I enjoy talking about both of my series - Empty Nest verse and A Very Hallmark Christmas verse.  I'm not a popular author and I know my fics, especially the Empty Nest verse ones, aren’t everyone’s thing, so I never get to really discuss them except with friends that I bug to death in private and via long replies to comments on AO3. (You all are saints blessed by all of the good and patient gods.) I have so much to say about them - the process of writing them, the world building, research, and character decisions that went into every single one. I know they’re not perfect. I know the Empty Nest verse grew miles beyond the ficlette about Burt and Carole that it was meant to be. I know my sense of humor in the Hallmark verse isn’t everyone’s thing either. I still worked really hard on them and am glad that I did. Empty Nest let me release a lot of the fear and anxiety I had for my Hispanic and gay son after the 2016 election. The Hallmark ones were a needed break to put some humor into my life. If others enjoyed them, great. If folks want to know more, my inbox is always open.

What's one aspect of writing fic that gets you really excited?

Writing humor even if I'm the only one that finds it funny. As I said above, writing the Hallmark Christmas movie dialogue and plot and the actors as they were filming it was a blast. Writing the commercials was fun and exciting. In my angsty fics, knowing I wrote a good scene, line, or moment that brought out all the feels. That's more of “satisfaction of a job well done” than excited.

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

Humorous Spooky Drabbles -  Humorous drabbles to spookish type prompts based on a tumblr post called October Drabble Prompts #1 by hallofceleano. The parts in bold and italic are from those prompts. Characters include Kurt, Blaine, Burt, Carole, and Finn. All fun; only #4 has some mild angst. #4 is for snarkyhag and regarding #5 - I know next to nothing about Twilight and had to look up Taylor Lautner on imdb. The liberties I took are my own.

A Very Sloppy Christmas - lucy8675309 posted to tumblr a series of gifs with Kurt dressed up as an elf. It inspired me to write the following prompt, which CoffeeAddict80 encouraged me to write as a fic:

I now want a fic where real Santa’s elf!Kurt gets drunk and vents to Blaine about all the woes of working for Santa. He’s over 100 years old and the outfits are terrible. Why couldn’t they wear clothes like the elves did in that one movie? Drunk elf Kurt has no idea he’s venting to Santa’s son.

Bonus if he wakes up and realizes he just had a drunken one night stand. He isn’t sure who it was with. Only that he’s naked, the guy in the bed beside him is naked and showing off a really great ass. Then said guy turns over and after Kurt’s done staring at his dick, he looks at the guy’s face and realizes who it is.

It’s a Twisted World -  I decided to challenge myself by combining the posted 5 weekly Klaine AU Friday themes and adding another one of my own. So that means: Farm, Fairytale, Vintage (1900’s,) Super Powers, Zombie Apocalypse, and Harry Potter World Klaine with a splash of a fic idea I thought of while in the produce section of the grocery store. Each week, the story will continue, though each part stands alone. This is not a brilliant work of perfectly composed fan fiction. What it is, is fast-paced, cracky fun, with a large dose of innuendo. At least it had my son laughing his ass off. I hope y'all enjoy it too. :)

[gisellelx]

For the writer's ask game: 16, 30, 36, 41?

Thanks @running-awayy! 💖

16.  How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with a project?

SO MANY. So, so many. This is one of those things that has gotten much worse over the years. I remember in high school and college, revision seemed so onerous but I had some teachers who really made us dig in deep and do it. And now it’s just a deep part of my process. I try to let a draft get down on paper without messing with it too much, but I always end up messing with it--at a bare minimum, I sit down and re-read what I wrote last, making some edits, before I start writing the next thing. I go to sleep and realize there’s a whole section missing. I’ve recently taken to slowing way down on fic for this reason. If a fic is being posted chapter by chapter as I write it, and I realize that whoops, no, four chapters back a character really needs see another a character do xyz in order to make this current scene make sense, I’m just stuck if it’s already posted. But if I’m sitting on the whole thing, I can go back and re-insert that scene, which is what I’m doing with my current WIP.  And once all of that is done when I’ve reached what most people would consider a final draft, I make three distinct passes on it. One is for cohesion--did I leave a character on one side of a room by mistake, which often happens as I’m revising and adding and subtracting big chunks. The second is for language--I’m looking for repetitive words, and for the rhythm of individual sentences, making sure the structure matches what I’m trying to do. The last pass is proofreading. So that’s three “final” drafts right there, to say nothing of however many came before it. 

30.  Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet

I answered this one in another one that was hiding while this was sitting (thanks for such fast asking!) so here’s another one I have in mind--I would really like to write a fic novel that is about the Cullens grappling with race ( @jessicanjpa has nudged me on this one). I can’t figure out exactly what the central conflict would look like, though, because they’re so fucking oblivious to it as characters. The closest I’ve come to it is in “Strange Fruit” and there are some hints of it in “Ordinary Time” as well, but that’s not canon-based. When I find a way in to that story I imagine I’ll feel compelled to write it. But it may well take me a long time to find the way in. I’ve seen it done many times in a very ham-fisted way, and I appreciate the effort, but before you have Carlisle and Edward and Jasper change, they have to have a reason to change. When I find that reason, I’ll write about it.

36.  Last sentence you wrote I’m working on two different scenes in this fic at once: 

“Pretty sure that if I had to be related to you, I’d have offed myself, too.”

41.  Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

Learn craft! Read books and blog posts about writing. Try out different writing forms. Fanfic is such a great place to experiment because for most people, somebody is gonna read your stuff. Maybe only one person, but somebody. So you can try out different forms--does third person feel better? First person? Which tense? Try them out in different stories. Try writing a short fic where you use no adjectives. Try writing a fic from the perspective of an inanimate object. Do all the writing exercises you’d do in a creative writing class but post them on FFnet or tumblr or whatever. If you don’t know how to create a conflict, read about how other people do it.  Also read. Read more than just fanfic. In fact, if you really want to get good at writing, you have to read more books than fanfic. Fanfic has some particularities of the genre that don’t work or are absolutely nonexistent in non-derivative fiction and which will hold you back on creating really excellent fiction. For instance, learn how to get in and out of a flashback without putting it in italics. Not just because it will stop your work from looking ficcy but you’ll get a better sense for when you need to move around in time in a story. You’ll not just learn how to use the pluperfect tense, you’ll learn how to drive a story forward by going into the past (and when you don’t need to). Read the kinds of books that you want to write. Try out things that authors you read are doing. Notice when they do something that makes you stand up and notice the writing. Notice when a line just stays with you for weeks or longer--what is it about the language that did that?  And of course write a lot. Throw most of it out. Keep some of it. Show some of it to others. But keep doing it. It’s the only way to get better. 

(see I said I might go on forever. Whoops. Thank you! ) 

[coldasyou]

How to gif without photoshop (second method)

Hello! A couple months ago I made a tutorial on how to gif without photoshop using the website ezgif. I got a really great response for it and received some requests for the other giffing program I use when I don’t have access to photoshop. The program is called instagiffer; this is a software so it needs to be downloaded but I have never had any trouble with my version.  

Warning that this is VERY text and image heavy because I know how frustrating it can be when a tutorial feels like it’s skipping steps and I want this to be as clear as possible. Also please read this on desktop, tumblr mobile kills the quality of gifs inside text posts.

Please reblog if you found this helpful!

This is the video I will be giffing and here is the gif I will be making!

What you need:

Instagiffer

This program has been around since 2013 and I have used it since 2016. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been updated since 2016 and the download link on the official website is broken. That being said, there are a few other websites that still have a working download, which is what I linked to above.

ezgif

Although we aren’t going to use this website to make the gif, we are going to use it to add more color and brightness to the gif.

A video downloader 

This is the video downloader I use but basically any youtube/video download website works. There are two ways to gif on instagiffer; using a video and using the built in screen recorder. I will show you how to use both. 

A video to gif

This program is a lot more forgiving about video quality than ezgif is, but for best results 720p or 1080p is still the standard. Scenes with good lighting and bright colors turn out the best, but you can still make good looking gifs from darker or unsaturated scenes if you know what you’re doing. 

1. Making a gif with a downloaded video

 Step One: Getting the frames

First, you download the video you want to gif. Then you open up instagiffer and click on “load video.” Scroll down until you find the video you want to gif and click on it. 

The video will appear on the screen in the right hand side. Go ahead and put “smoothness” up as high as it can go. This increases the frames per second and makes the gif look smoother. It also makes the gif longer, so you may have to bring it down later so it doesn’t go over tumblr’s size limit, but I always start as high as possible then work down. 

Next, find the moment in the video you want to gif. You can either use the sliding bar or just type in the start time (you can use hours, minutes, seconds, and millisecond). You also want to put how long the clip you want to gif is. 3 seconds is the default but I usually bump it up to at least 4 (unless I know it’s a really short clip) just because it’s a lot easier to delete frames than add them. 

If you do this, you’ll quickly realize your gif has extra frames that appear slightly before and slightly after the moment you want to gif. It’s really easy to get rid of those frames; just click on them until you only see the frames you want in the gif. Use the scroll bar at the bottom of the gif to move around the frames, and use it to make sure the only thing on screen is the clip you want included in the gif. 

Step Two: Resize the gif, brighten the gif, change the speed and add captions

Now, it’s time to size, brighten, and color your gif! First look at the “frame size” option. Using the correct gif size for tumblr is one of the easiest ways to make sure the gif looks good. For gifs that take up a whole row, the size should be 540p wide. For two gifs in one row, the size is 268p each. For three gifs in one row, the sizes are 177p, 178p, and 177p in that order. Here is a visual of it.  You can see what the width/height of the gif is in the bottom right hand corner of the gif screen. I am making this gif 268p. Get the frame size as close to the width you want as possible; right now, it is 269x151. To get it down to 268 exactly, go up to the top of the program, click on “frame” > “manual crop”. This little box will pop up. Just set the width to 268 and make sure the size is listed as 268 under the gif as well. The height can stay the same. 

Keep quality up to 100 obviously. I almost always brighten by 2. Unless you’re giffing something with a huge spot of light, 2 is basically standard. Going up any higher usually makes the gif just look grainy, but if the scene is REALLY badly lit, you can go up to 3. Playback rate is usually -1, just to make the gif look smoother. Unless it’s a super long gif or a super short gif, I don’t mess with it further.

Captions are obviously optional but if you want to add one, click on “click here to add a new caption.” A box will pop up with options of how you want the text to look. I only use this to “caption” gifs (aka add dialogue). The settings I use are 12pt font, calibri, white, bold italic, bottom of gif, outline up to 3. You can also chose what frame you want the caption to start/end on if you want. Since this gif doesn’t have talking, I’m not going to include the caption in the final gif, but I wanted to show how to use this function.

Step Three: Color the gif

There are two parts to this. The first place I color the gif is on instagiffer, and then I use ezgif to add more effects. The second part is totally optional but they have more choices for coloring there. 

Click on the “open effects panel”. A window will open showing what the gif currently looks like, along with a variety of filters you can use. Ignore how grainy it looks, it won’t look that way when it’s finished. 

First thing is keep “enhance” up to 100. This is basically a sharpening function and without it the gif will get super blurry. There are a ton of filters you can play around with, but the only two I focus on usually are “color fade” and “colorize.” For color fade, I click it on and set it at 10. Obviously, if you’re trying to make a desaturated gifset, you can raise it up for a faded color effect, but I use it more for color balance than desaturation. Next click on colorize, and then color picker. 

I almost always pick a light shade of blue, purple or pink; it brings out the color in the gif and tends to keep skin tones from being washed out. This is usually my default: 

Then, I bring the “colorize” option down to 90 to increase the effects of shadows. 

Last thing to do is click create gif! It’ll take a few seconds, especially for longer gifs, so be patient. ALSO there is a good chance you’re going to get a message saying something to the effect of “this gif is too big for tumblr’s photo limit.” Feel free to ignore that; the software being old means it still has the photo limit as 2gb when now it is 5-6gb so almost any gif you make will be considered “too big.” 

Your gif now shows up in a preview tab! It should also show up as a file labeled “insta” on your desktop. 

Here is the gif so far. 

You can end here if you want. But when using instagiffer, I always go to ezgif to brighten up the colors further. 

This part is basically the same as how you would color a gif you made in ezgif (see this tutorial) but I’ll quickly walk through what I do.

Go to ezgif.com/effects. Click chose file and upload your gif. First, you’re going to want to up the saturation, brightness, and contrast. You have to play around with these functions a lot because every scene is different, but in general, I have my saturation up pretty high and my brightness and contrast at at least 8. For a scene as dark and desaturated as this, I put saturation at 200, brightness at 12, and contrast at 16. 

Afterwards, you want to go down to “color presets” and select “tint.” In my other tutorial, I recommended tinting with a light red or light blue, but for gifs made on instagiffer, I tend to use a light yellow/gold. I already tinted the gif purple in instagiffer so adding yellow in ezgif tends to balance it out. The shade I used for this gif is #fffcf0. 

If the gif ends up looking too yellow, either decrease saturation, or click the “effects” button under the gif and add a layer of light purple to balance the colors more. 

Your final gif should look like this.

2. Making a gif with the “capture screen” feature

This only changes the method of how you get gif frames. Everything related to resizing, coloring/effects, and adding captions is the same as above. 

What if you don’t have a download of the thing you want to gif? The great thing about instagiffer is it has a built in screen recorder so you can gif any video you want, even if you can’t download it (or if you’re like me and don’t want to deal with downloading a 45 minute episode of something just to gif one scene). 

To use this tool, click on the “capture screen” button on the top right corner next to “load video.” Then this screen will pop up.

You’re going to want to take this blue screen over to the screen you want to capture. I’m going to put it over the youtube video I am giffing. Adjust it so the only thing it’s focused on is the video and set the length in seconds. I usually set it for longer than the clip is just because it’s easier to remove extra frames than rerecord a scene. There is also sometimes a lag so starting it right before the scene you want to gif helps with that. For example, if the clip I’m giffing is 3 seconds long, I set it to 3.5. Then start running the video and click “start” on the screen!

Your frames will now show up on instagiffer. Everything is the same, except you can’t change the frame rate or timing. Go ahead and delete frames that you don’t need by clicking on them. After that, just use the same resizing, and coloring method I outlined above. 

Some notes:

When using the video download option, the effects you use will save, as will the size of the gif. So if you gif one part of a video, then move the time stamp to another part, it will stay in whatever size you put the gif as. However, when using screen capture, you have to resize the gif and go to the effects menu each time because they reset after each use of the screen recorder.

You can also just paste a youtube link into the white bar at the top of instagiffer to gif it, but I’ve found that the quality is much better if you download or use the capture screen.

To crop a gif, move the red box around (just make sure it stays the right width size!) 

If you are using the screen recorder and only want to record part of the video (like just a characters outfit) size the gif recorder so it’s just surrounding the part of the video you want to see. 

I hope this made sense lol, it took me a few days to write it all so please let me know if you have questions or need anything clarified! Support me on Ko-Fi if you’d like and are able 💕💕💕

[dawninlatin]

Haste

A Feysand Modern AU One Shot

Words: 4433

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Feyre comes back home after quitting college and breaking up with her boyfriend. During a night out, she starts seeing her friend Rhys in a new light. (Warning: There is some smut by the end)

The title comes from the song “Haste” by RY X, and if you wanna vibe, I suggest you go listen to it:)

A/N: Sorry for how long this note is, guess I had a lot to say, lol. This is actually the first fic I ever wrote, but I wanted to repost it, because I had only posted the AO3 link before, and wasn’t happy with that format. I would like to take this opportunity to thank all my amazing followers and readers!<3 

When reading through this fic, there were so many things I wanted to change, (like, why did I think it was a good idea to have every other word written in italics?? And I’m so sorry for the cheesy dialogue and suuuuper long paragraphs...), but I decided to keep it as it was, because it shows how far I’ve come from that day in February where I sat up half the night writing, thinking that no one would ever read this, because my English wasn’t good enough, and my writing wasn’t good enough. 

Yet I still posted it, and the response I got was more than I ever expected! This, along with all the other response I’ve gotten on all my other fics, has helped me so much with my writing, but more importantly, has helped me become the person I am today. So thank you so much, to everyone who takes the time to read, to everyone who likes, and reblogs, and leaves comments, and keep encouraging me! Thank you to all you wonderful people I have gotten to know on this app, tumblr has become a second home for me! From the bottom of my heart, I love y’all!<3<3<3

This was not how Feyre had pictured her night. Had she been the one to decide, it would consist of greasy pizza, a bottle of tequila and some crappy rom-com. Feyre had gotten as far as scrolling through Netflix in search for one, when her best friend Mor walked in the door of the apartment and declared that Feyre better get her ass of that couch, take a fucking shower and put on some decent clothing, because they were going out.

Feyre hadn’t felt like she was in the right position to protest; it was Mor’s couch she’d been occupying for the past week after all. Had it been a week already? she wondered. A week since Feyre had finally broken up with her asshole boyfriend Tamlin and then jumped on a bus to California, because the only person in the world she wanted to be with then was Mor. She had felt the need to share this victory with the only person that could always make her feel better. Of course, the high had ended as soon as she stood on Mor’s doorstep, where she had taken one look at her best friend and turned into a sobbing mess. That was about how she had spent the following week as well. She didn’t want to cry over the bastard, but he had been part of her life for the past two years, and she had loved him. Once.

So instead of spending the night on Mor's couch, wallowing in self pity, Feyre now found herself standing in the middle of a dance club crowded with drunk, sweaty people, playing way too loud music - the blinking lights making her dizzy. She had borrowed one of Mor’s dresses - and though this was considered modest in Mor’s eyes - she found herself constantly pulling at the black fabric, not comfortable with how much thigh it showed off.

Feyre scanned the room, trying to find her friend, and as she was about to declare the task impossible, she eyed a red dress and a head of blond curls. Mor was elbowing her way through the crowd, drinks in hand, accompanied by two men Feyre recognized. The tall, muscular one with shoulder-length, dark hair and a cocky smirk was Cassian, and the slightly shorter one with a shy smile was Azriel.

As they approached her, Cassian went in for a one-armed hug. «It’s good to see you Feyre!» He grinned at her, and she found herself grinning back despite her unhappy mood earlier. She really had missed these people.

«Hi Feyre, you look well!» Feyre looked up to see Azriel smiling at her, accompanied by an awkward wave. He was more of the quiet, observing type of guy, but that was exactly what Feyre liked so much about him. He was quiet, yes, but the silence was never uncomfortable.

«You as well, Azriel.» She smiled back at him, then turned towards Mor, who handed her a drink.

«Don’t look so shy Feyre. You look amazing tonight!» Mor winked at her, then gestured to the rest of the club. «You should have seen all the guys eyeing you when we walked in. Actually…if you hadn’t been my best friend, and straight-» she made a disappointed face at that, which made their whole group laugh, including Feyre, «-I totally would have slept with you.» Feyre laughed even more at that, but Mor was right. She felt good tonight. Sexy, even. She felt something she hadn’t felt in a long way. She was excited for what the night - the future - would bring.

«I might not wanna sleep with you, but I think that brunette at the bar wants to.» Feyre nodded her head towards the young woman ogling her friend.

«Hell yes!» Mor exclaimed. She put her arms around Feyre and Azriel’s shoulders. «Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna get laid!»

«Cheers to that!» Cassian laughed, lifting his drink. As Feyre sipped hers, she felt light, almost giddy, with excitement and joy. At the same moment, she noticed someone was missing from their small gathering. Rhys.

She couldn’t fathom how she hadn’t noticed before. Mor’s annoying cousin was difficult to ignore whenever he was present. The prick always teased, always came with innuendos, or witty remarks. He had the biggest ego Feyre had ever encountered. Still, Feyre found herself to be missing Rhysand’s snarky comments and their never-ending banter. Before she had time to stop herself, she spoke the sentence: «Hey guys, where’s Rhys?»

Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at her, but she chose to ignore him. «He’s coming later. Had to work overtime» Mor answered. Feyre nodded, before quickly switching the subject over to their plans for the rest of the summer.

-

As soon as they had some alcohol in their blood, Feyre and her small group of friends moved on to the dance floor. Feyre was jumping around, singing along to whatever song they were blasting, joking and laughing with Mor and Cassian, teasing Azriel for not wanting to join them. They looked like idiots, but they were happy idiots. She could feel the heavy bass in her whole body, along with her beating heart. She was so, so happy . Happier than all of last year combined. Hell, she hadn’t been this happy since high school, when she, Mor, Cassian, Azriel, even Rhys, had been together almost every day. Always laughing, joking. But that had been before Tamlin, and before she had been stupid enough to move halfway across the country for college.

Feyre scolded herself for thinking about Tamlin again. The point of tonight was to forget him. To have fun. And she was having fun, and she was happy. So happy that at any moment she could grow wings and disappear into the night. She had no worries. No worries of the home she had left behind, or college, or her ex-boyfriend, or what tomorrow would bring. She was here, now, and she felt fucking amazing.

Feyre heard Cassian greet someone, and turned just in time to meet a pair of shockingly blue eyes. Rhys. Her breath caught, her heart thundering in her chest, and she found herself not being able to look away. He held her gaze, refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Feyre didn’t know if it was the lights, the music, the alcohol, the warm summer night, still young and full of possibilities, or the feeling of finally being free, but it was as if she was seeing him for the first time.

Had he always been this handsome? she asked herself, taking in his lean, muscular form, his tight-fitting jeans, the white shirt opened just enough to show off the tattoos swirling across his chest. She stared at his sharp jawline, his soft lips, his eyes, so blue they were practically glowing, his dark, messy hair. Oh, how she wanted to run her fingers through his hair.

A cough from Mor made Feyre tear her eyes away at last. I must be drunker than I thought , she mused. This was Rhys she was thinking about. The man who annoyed her to no end. The man who was known for his many hook-ups and one night stands and flirts and just- argh.

«How nice of you to finally show up,» Cassian said as he threw an arm around Rhys’ shoulder and handed him a drink. Rhys made a comment that had Cassian roaring with laughter, but Feyre didn’t hear what it was, because Rhys was looking at her with such an intensity that it made her insides tingle. Stop it, she thought. You had a boyfriend just a week ago.

«Hey Feyre. It’s good to see you again.» Rhys smiled at her, but it wasn’t his usual cocky smirk. It almost looked a little sad. Feyre suddenly found the floor very interesting, not being able to keep herself from blushing or biting her lip. She could feel his eyes on her. Burning. Then Mor shouted «Who wants shots?», and the moment was over.

-

The night went on. They drank, they danced, they talked about college and hook-ups and high school. Feyre almost wanted to cry at the feeling of how familiar it all was. She had been afraid that her moving to Boston would change everything - and it had, for a little while - but she was back now, and everything was normal. Except for Rhys, maybe. Something had definitely changed between the two of them.

Gone was the teasing and never-ending banter. In its place was something brand new. They hadn’t said anything to one another except for pleasantries for the entirety of the evening, but Feyre caught him staring at her constantly, with this sad, longing look in his eyes. And to be honest, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off of him either.

Right now, they were all sitting at the bar, watching Cassian stick his tongue down the throat of some random blonde on the dance floor. Mor suddenly stood up, announcing she was gonna go try her luck with the woman she had been flirting with all night.

«Come on, Azriel. You’re gonna be my wingman.» His protest died on his lips as More pulled him after her.

All there was left, was Feyre and Rhys. Not able to meet each others eyes.

But Feyre was feeling brave this night. It might have been the alcohol, or the still-lingering high of having broken up with the asshole that had made her life miserable for the past year. She muttered a quiet «fuck it», downed her drink, stood up, and looked her friend straight in the eyes. «Do you wanna dance?»

Rhys’s face was lit up by a bright smile. «I thought you’d never ask, Feyre darling.» Her insides warmed at the familiar nickname, and she found herself smiling just as brightly. Rhys took her hand, leading her to the dance floor, where some old EDM shit was playing.

Feyre didn’t care about the bad music, or the bright lights, or the sweat coating her body. She was here with Rhys. His body was so close now, and she could smell his all-familiar scent of citrus and sea.

She lost track of how long they danced. None of them were any good at it, but they were laughing and having fun. Feyre felt 17 again, jumping around, sweaty and drunk, but happy. «God, I missed this!» she exclaimed, grinning at Rhys, just as the fast rhythms and heavy bass switched over to a slow ballad.

Hesitantly, Feyre glanced at Rhys, suddenly feeling shy and unsure. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. She understood what he meant immediately, and nodded, biting her lip. Rhys stepped closer, and put his arms around her waist. She placed hers around his neck, swaying along with the music.

She looked at the man in front of her. Really looked at him this time. How had she not noticed before, how strikingly beautiful he was? His sharp angles, kissable lips, silky hair, the blue eyes she could get lost in if she stared for too long. Said eyes were taking in her just as intensely at the moment.

«You are so beautiful tonight, Feyre.» His voice was hoarse, laced with restraint. Feyre felt a longing, deep within herself. She wanted to tell him he was beautiful too, wanted to kiss him, wanted to cry, wanted to just leave, wanted to stay in his arms forever. She wanted to be his.  She did neither, couldn’t find the courage to do so.

Instead, she stepped closer, and pressed her forehead against his, feeling his strained breath against her lips. Everything around them disappeared. The world narrowing down to the two of them, together, forehead against forehead, in the midst of a warm night in June.

Then the song ended, and the moment was over. Feyre stepped back, but she continued to hold his gaze. Rhys looked towards the exit. «Come, I wanna show you something.» He grabbed her hand, and then he was leading her through the crowd. They walked past Mor, who muttered a «fucking finally!» that made them both chuckle.

Outside, they were surrounded by warm, summer air, a chill breeze running over their exposed skin. Rhys looked at Feyre with mischief in his eyes. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

«What exactly was it that you wanted to show me?» she asked, not being able to hide her curiosity.

«You’ll see, just trust me.» Rhys looked giddy with excitement. He was bouncing on his feet now. «Follow me, we don’t wanna miss it.» Then he started walking. Fast.

«Miss what?» Feyre shouted after him, but he didn’t answer. Rhys just kept on walking, and she struggled to keep up with him. «I have shorter legs than you, remember? And I’m currently in heals, which puts me at an unfair disadvantage.» He stopped a few steps ahead, an amused look on his face.

«We have to wait a few minutes now,» he announced, all serious. Feyre looked around where they were standing, a few blocks away from the club. The whole city was sleeping. The sight of the quiet, empty streets bewitching.

Then a bright, yellow bus stopped in front of them. Also empty. She followed Rhys onto it, confusion growing more and more. «The bus? Where exactly are we going?»

The puzzled look on Feyre's face made him chuckle. «I swear, the mystery will be worth it once we get there. Now, we could have walked, but then we would miss it.» He must have seen the question forming on her lips, because he raised a finger. «And no, I still won’t tell you what it is.»

She rolled her eyes and muttered a quiet «prick». The nickname made him laugh, and she laughed with him, because Feyre hadn’t called him that since high school. It had been way too long since they’d been together like this. Still, under all the joking and laughing, there was an unfamiliar tension that hadn’t been there before.

-

After only five minutes, Rhys announced that they had reached their destination. He stepped out onto the street, and led Feyre towards a beach. The sight in front of her was breathtaking. The dark waves crashing against the sand, the sky - the nearing dawn making it a deep pink - birds flying over their heads, and Rhys, who had taken off his shoes and started walking towards the ocean. Feyre followed him, slipping out of her heels. The moment she felt the familiar California sand under her toes again, she laughed with joy. A rich and warm sound she hadn’t made in forever.

Rhys, who was standing in the water now, looked up at her, the same bright smile on his face. He waved at her to hurry up, and she walked the final steps to him. The sea was warm, and the salty smell of it was amazing. It was home. She looked towards the horizon, where the sun barely had begun to rise. Then she looked up at Rhys again.

«The sunrise. That’s what you wanted to show me.»  Rhys only nodded, before looking ahead of them. Feyre took in the sight again, and she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She wanted, no, she needed to paint.

Her thoughts were disturbed by Rhys, who was now sitting in the sand, jeans cuffed up to his knees. «Come sit with me, Feyre.» He patted the spot next to him.

Feyre stepped back and sat down, feeling the waves crash against her legs. She looked to Rhys, and said the only thing that could come to her mind with a playful smirk on her lips. «How did your dad take it when he found out his only son was gonna major in English, and not business?»

Rhys grimaced. «He was pissed at first, even threatened to write me out of his will, but he came around - eventually.» They chuckled at that, both knowing how angry Rhys’ father could get, but also how he always gave in when it came to his children. «How about you? How’s all the art stuff going?» Rhys asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

«Urgh,» Feyre cringed, «I dropped out in March, haven’t touched a paint brush since.» She should have been sad or ashamed when admitting that, but she felt good, knowing she had made the right choice. She had been miserable in Boston.

Rhys looked at her, concern lining his face. «That bad, huh?»

«What can I say? Boston sucked, and I would much rather be here, with you guys.» She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

«So you’re back for good now?» Feyre only nodded, turning back towards the rising sun.

The sight in front of her was hypnotizing. «I didn’t realize how much I’ve really missed home.» The words were out before she managed to think. Rhys only hummed quietly beside her. Seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Feyre turned towards him. His eyes were closed, a small smile on his lips. «What’s on your mind?» she wondered out loud.

Rhys opened his eyes then, and looked at her. «A thought for thought?» he suggested. She smiled at the reminder of the little game they used to play when they were younger. «I can begin,» he continued.

He looked towards the horizon again, taking a deep breath. «I’m thinking that when I walked into the club tonight, I was so happy to see you, because you were so happy. You were dancing and laughing and I thought that finally we had gotten our Feyre back. After you left for Boston, and after you met him, it was as if you disappeared.» Feyre tried to swallow the lump in her throat. He sounded wounded, almost. Did he really care about her that much?

«You visited, of course, but it was like a stranger had replaced you. You were a shell of who you once used to be. You stopped laughing, stopped making inappropriate jokes, and I missed you. God, I missed you so much.» Feyre felt like she might cry at his words, but she didn’t. All she did was stare ahead, and take his hand. She squeezed it, encouraging him to continue. He squeezed back.

«As I said, when I saw you tonight, I was sure we had gotten the old Feyre back. Mor told me what had happened in Boston - why you were back - and I was sure that everything would return to normal between us.» He took a break, clearly anxious of saying what was next.

«But everything isn’t back to normal. Something has changed. I can feel it, and I think you can too.» He looked at her now, that intense longing once again in his eyes. She met his gaze, and suddenly felt brave enough to say:

«I can feel the change too, yes, but I think it’s a good change.» Then she leaned in, and kissed him.

Rhys went completely still at first, and Feyre was afraid that she had misunderstood their conversation. Then he seemed to realize what was happening. He put one arm around her waist, the other tangling in her hair, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.

His lips tasted salty, she thought, but sweet at the same time. She could get drunk on him alone. Feyre was breathless, and dizzy, but she decided this was the best feeling in the world.

She was kissing Rhys.

He pressed his tongue against her lips, and she opened up for him, moaning at the sensation. She put her hands in his hair, slightly pulling at it. The silky strands feeling soft in her fingers.

Kissing Rhys was everything, but at the same time it was not enough. She needed more. Needed to be closer, needed to feel more of him. She pulled away slightly, breathless, heart thundering, blood rushing in her ears. Rhys looked at her, just as breathless, a hungry gleam in his eyes. «How far is it to your place?» He only smirked in answer.

Rhys stood up, picking Feyre up with him. She laughed as he almost dropped her, then she wrapped her legs around his waist. He didn’t walk far before they reached a small house. Rhys put her down, pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the door.

Feyre marveled at the place as they stepped inside. It was small, but it was stunning. Large glass windows facing the ocean, green plants covering every available surface, and several over-filled bookshelves. She turned to look at Rhys, who had stopped in the doorway, staring at her taking in his place, surprise clearly written on her face. She took a step towards him. Then another. And another, until their mouths crashed together again.

Rhys moved his lips over her jaw, down her throat, her neck. Feyre moaned, struggling to get his shirt off fast enough, both minds clouded with lust and the haste to be as close together as possible. Skin to skin.

She finally managed to open the last button, pulling off the fabric. Feyre took in his muscled, tan chest and the many tattoos covering it. She leaned forward, and pressed her lips to the spot right above his heart. She could feel it hammering beneath his skin. She moved upwards, ghosting them over his collarbone, his neck, his throat, his jawline, then finally his lip.

Rhys grabbed her face, kissing her with such an intensity it made her dizzy. She was about to start fumbling with his belt when Rhys pulled away. «Are you sure you want this?» he asked, all out of breath, voice cracking, and Feyre would have thought his consideration and worry to be cute, had she not been so desperate to press her naked body against his. So she only nodded, and stepped back to pull her dress over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

That seemed to be the end of Rhys' restraint. He took a step towards her, grabbed her under her thighs, and hoisted her up so she was sitting with her legs around his waist. Feyre moaned at the feeling of him pressing against her, hard and ready, and she felt a warm throbbing between her own legs.

Feyre let out a breathy «why the hell do you still have pants on?» that made Rhys chuckle. She felt the sound moving through his whole body. He walked across the room, laid her down on the bed and quickly got rid of his pants. Feyre almost drooled at the sight of his large cock. She reached out a hand and stroked him through the thin fabric of his boxers. Rhys groaned at the feeling, and leaned over her, placing his mouth on one of her nipples.

It felt exquisite. Rhys, his wandering hands, her body tingling with sensation, his hot mouth on her skin. She needed more, more, more. Feyre pulled his cock free, and he kicked of his underwear. One of his hands reached the band of her own panties, a finger dipping into her core, then slowly circling her clit.

It was too much and not enough and she needed more. Rhys slid off her underwear, and all of a sudden there was nothing between them. «Do you have a condom?» Feyre didn’t know how she managed to form words at this point, but he reached behind her and grabbed one. Feyre took it and rolled it on him, while his mouth explored every inch of her breasts, and his hand slowly stroked the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Feyre needed him inside her, now. She lined his cock up with her entrance, then she looked him in the eyes. He took her hint, slowly, oh so slowly, pushing himself in, not breaking eye contact.

Feyre moaned at the feeling of him filling her, widening her. He was thick and warm and it felt amazing. She pulled his mouth to hers, and he pressed his tongue inside her, filling her in two places. He pulled out slightly, then pushed in to the hilt this time. Rhys groaned at the sensation, his hand still drawing circles over her clit.

It felt so good, she was seeing stars. The wave inside her rising and rising with no end as Rhys picked up his pace, slamming to the hilt and hitting that magic spot every. damn. time.

Words like more or faster or deeper filled the warm air around them. Rhys buried his head between her shoulder and neck, moaning her name. Feyre felt her pussy clench around him, nearing that sweet, sweet edge. «Rhys, I need to…»

He seemed to understand what she meant, because he went even faster, fingers pressing down against her clit, and fuck it felt so good! His eyes met her eyes, his forehead pressed against her forehead, and she felt his words as a breath against her lips. «Come, Feyre.»

Those words pushed her over the edge immediately, wave crashing over her like nothing ever had before. It lasted a lifetime. That sweet, unending pleasure. She clenched around him again and again, until he started losing control, losing rhythm, and at last he came with her, groaning.

When it was over, the world around them went quiet. The sun was shining through the curtains, a new day beginning, Rhys collapsed on top of Feyre, stroking her disheveled hair away from her face. «That was…» she didn’t know how to end that sentence. She wanted to stay here with him forever. Just the two of them. Skin to skin.

Rhys looked at her, amusement coloring his face. «Intense?» he suggested. Feyre chuckled, tapping her fingers against his chest. He pulled out, turned on his back, taking her with him, so that she lay on his chest, ear placed right over his heart.

«I was gonna go with best sex of my life, but intense works too I guess.» He laughed at that. A warm, loud laughter that she could feel in her whole body. He kissed the top of her head, and pulled a blanked over them.

As Feyre lay there, feeling Rhys draw slow circles on her back, listening to the waves, letting the steady beat of his heart and the sound of his even breaths lull her to sleep, she knew that nothing would ever be the same after this night. She felt almost electric with excitement over what the rest of the summer would bring. One thing she was sure of, Rhys would be part of it.

[author-archive]

Author Interview: awickedplacethisis

Name: Simon

Tumblr: @awickedplacethisis​

Where else you can find them: ao3

What is the main pairing you write for?

Harringrove - Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington from Stranger Things

What inspired you to start writing for them?

The obvious tension between them in the show, and all the queer subtext I could see in Billy’s character! Plus, of course, all the amazing creators I found in the fandom. I wanted to contribute too!

Do you remember the first fic you ever wrote?

The first fic I ever wrote was definitely something Harry Potter related. The first fic I SHARED was a Simon vs. fic I wrote when the book came out, when that fandom was even smaller than it still is.

What fic/scene has been the hardest for you to write and why?

Billy’s relationship with his dad is always a challenge for me to write. Because we saw so little of it, and the little we saw was a mess. There’s a lot that hits close to home, whenever I write Billy in general. When I look back to the first time I ever wrote their relationship, I just want to go back and change it all. It’s a struggle, to capture something real, there.

What inspires you?

When I write, I get a lot of inspiration from thoughts running around in my own head, true events or just random things that COULD happen, to me. To someone LIKE me. But also, a lot of the beautiful fanart in the fandom give me real good ideas for fics. Just generally in life, my inspiration comes from fiction, I think. I’ve always read a lot, and that feeling of seeing something on paper that could happen to you, or would never ever happen, having that grip you and keep you in a whole different world, that feeling means a lot to me. Literature plays a big part in all aspects of my life, in the end.

Do you have a writing process? If so, what's it like?

Oh... I don’t think I even know my own process, really. I try to always have something at hand, a phone or computer or notebook, so I can write down ideas as soon as inspiration hits. That’s probably the only consistent thing, I write down all my ideas, big ones or small ones, because I know I forget them within the minute if I don’t. And from there, I usually try to find the “eye of the storm” first. What does the whole fic revolve around? How does it come to that place? Why does it change? Honestly, my projects are messes right until they’re done. Snippets of dialogue here, some author notes to myself there, delusional 2 am writing hidden away in a corner.

How would you describe your writing style?

My writing style is... messy. But that’s why I like it. It’s filled with cut off thoughts and italics, ‘cause that’s how I think. And that’s how I’d like to imagine those characters think. It’s also slightly influenced by the poetry I read, and just other literature in general. All though I try to be careful when it comes to that, ‘cause I’d rather something be plain when it comes to wording, than to be all fancy in a way the characters would never think. My writing style is like mundane poetry, if that makes sense.

Is there anyone that influences your style?

Not really, at least not consciously. I definitely take up tips from other writers, both in fandom and published authors. I see things I like in someone else’s writing and remember it for the next time I write. Something I think influences me a little is “The book of disquiet” by Fernando Pessoa.

What's your favourite line that you've written? This was a tough one, really. Probably this one, from my fic “the first time I saw the ocean (it was in your eyes)”

“to find darker blue in the lighter, specs of green so vivid that it’s weird he’s never seen them before. Maybe he’s never really looked , before.”

It’s really not a deep line or anything, but it really just captures Steve’s unknowing longing. The way he wants but he doesn’t know what. The way he sees so much that he’s never seen before, doesn’t really know what to do with that.

What do you find to be the easiest part of writing?

I don’t know if it counts, but nsfw content is definitely the easiest and non challenging stuff for me to write. ‘Cause just on a base level, it doesn’t really hold any depth. It can, depending on what you do with it, how you write the characters inner turmoil and everythin’. Other than that, I feel like it’s easy for me to write dialogue, all sorts of it. As a theatre kid, scripts have always had a big appeal, I guess.

What's the hardest?

The hardest is definitely getting to the point. I’ll spend too many words on building up a backstory, and then the actual plot just never happens. Backstory can be nice, but some fics call for that “being plunged right into the chaos”, from the start.

Why do you write?

I write ‘cause I’ve learnt no one else is going to give me the fiction I want. No ones gonna write characters like me if I do nothing. Sure, it’s starting, the whole diversity thing. But I won’t sit around and hope someone will write a book or script a movie with characters I can see myself in. I’ll write it myself. Of course, writing is a passion of mine. It’s not just that I wanna see myself on a page or a screen. The way we have languages, ways of creating stories and immortalize them, it’s so amazing to me. And I love it.

Why do you share your work?

I share my work in hope to make someone feel something. I want people to read words I’ve put together and feel things, feel pain or happiness or sadness or hope. Anything. ‘Cause it’s so baffling to me that words can DO that. I also want other people to be able to see themselves in something. A lot of people turn to fanfiction to find some kinda story they can see themselves in, and if I make even one person feel like they belong thanks to my work, I’ve succeeded.

Is there anything you’d like to share from a current WIP?

I’ve got quite a few of ‘em, and too little organization to finish them. Here’s an excerpt from my fic “the first time you said sorry (you used all the wrong words)” - part 2 of my “a series of firsts (in a way)”

“Nothing changes, except Steve can’t stop thinking about it. And he’s great at not thinking about it, but blue eyes and rough hands and deft fingers keep following him. That feeling, too. The one that gripped him, locked him in place. It choked him, left him heaving. Maybe it’s ‘cause it was Hargrove. He’d find some way of hurting him, even if he didn’t pound his face in. Maybe it’s the queer thing. The thing he’s never, ever thought about. The thing he locked away, kept away. Maybe it’s a sign that he’s not, that it’s so wrong that his body protested against it, locked itself in.”

(Italics got removed, but you can imagine I overuse the hell outta them)

Question from an anon: as a gay man, how do you feel about straight women who enjoy m/m fanfiction?

Now, this is quite the heated subject. And I do have a lot of feelings about that. Both as a gay man, and as a fanfiction writer. First, and most importantly, if what you enjoy is not harmful to you or anyone else, it’s okay to enjoy it. I’m all for enjoying things. As a content provider, my whole goal is for people to enjoy themselves. And I’d never restrict my content to one group of people, ‘cause everyone has the right to consume free media, and I want to share my work with everyone.

Straight women have the same right to enjoy content as any other person. Whatever floats your boat, do that. But, one thing needs to be clear. Enjoying m/m fanfiction in itself is nothing more than that. It doesn’t make you an ally of the community, and it doesn’t make you apart of it. Honestly, its just fetishizing. If you consume gay porn, it’s ‘cause it gets you going. If a straight woman consciously searches out gay porn or m/m fan fiction, its fetishizing.

And the extreme fetishizing of gay men in media is a problem. We’ve been given breadcrumbs of representation only to now be used as bait for straight girls who think it’s just sooo cute to see Timothée Chalamet get fucked on screen. And I get angry about that. I get angry that the representation we need is redirected to other people, people who really don’t care about the community as a whole further than their cute gay (and cis, and white) couples. I hate that. But i can’t sit and pretend like I have some sort of moral high ground. ‘Cause I make content that feeds into that. But it’s different, with fanfiction. I make content for MYSELF, and then whoever sees it, good for them. If all of my readers were straight women, I’d be fine with that. As long as they know that all they do is enjoy porn that fits their fetish. Or, if its not the smut, its still to an extent that. Fetishizing or romanticizing a group of people. And you do you, as long as you know that’s all you do.

Enjoy the harmless content you want to enjoy. And fanfiction is harmless. Just, this is the important part, don’t act like you’re doing more than that. You’re not a gay icon or an ally or super woke for reading about two fictional characters who interacted once fuck. You’re enjoying yourself, and thats fine. But in the end, its nothing more than that.  We’re a community, and you gotta stick up for everyone if you think you’re even close to an ‘ally’. Queer folk stick together. And when i say i don’t mind straight women reading my work, I gotta make one thing clear:

My work is to LGBT+ people, from someone in the community. I write because we deserve to see authentic people like us in fiction. And I’m doing my part to make at least one person feel like they can see a character and think “this is me”.

[puttingfingerstokeys]

faraday cage

so the title should tell you the ship (if you’re familiar with my terminology), but if not, it’s Faraday Cage (Johnny/Raiden). Spacing’s all fucky and, as usual, tumblr eats italics. I’m a lazy POS tho so here ya go! One day I STG I’mma post these on Ao3, with like maybe more words/deets. I skimmed this one before I posted it, so like, hopefully it’s not a TOTAL mess. Hilarious ‘cause the story actually titled “How Come Cassie Gets Two Dads” is only like... POTENTIAL faraday cage and also isn’t in the prevented timeline at all (I mislabeled it initially, WOOPS). 

Prevented timeline

“Hey, Raidude, I’ve got a question for ya.

“Yes, Johnny Cage?”

Raiden shifted on the lawn chair to face the mortal who addressed him, fully aware that whatever came out of the man’s mouth next would almost certainly be foolish. He was eager to hear it.

“What color’s your hair?”

“Oh my GOD, dad; you can’t just ask a guy what color his hair is—that’s so weird!” Cassie, just emerging from the house with a plate of lemonade for the three of them, was appalled at her father’s lack of courtesy toward their divine guest. That, or she was simply messing with him. “It’s like asking a girl if her hair is dyed—that shit stings.”

“It does not insult me, Cassandra Cage,” Raiden reassured the woman, taking the offered glass and giving a serene smile in return. She rolled her eyes. He would never stop calling her Cassandra Cage. She suspected he could not help it. “Fujin and I are twins, thus...” He trailed off, gesturing at his own pause. “But I understand—”

“Wait, you guys are twins?” This was Cassie, settling down next to her father, two glasses in hand. Johnny tipped his shades down his nose to better judge if the god of thunder was toying with them. He was, as usual, not.

“Why is this surprising?” Raiden seemed genuinely taken aback, in point of fact, that the mortals had not known this from the start. He had never made mention of it, because it had never mattered. Every day, he was surprised, again and again, by the things the Cage family said or did, or asked, in this case; it revealed still more layers to the complexity of mortality.

“You just don’t—I mean he looks like he could be, I dunno, mid thirties?” Johnny looked to Cassie for confirmation. She pursed her lips and nodded. “And you’re like—”

“A dad,” Cassie filled in. “Like, sorry in advance and all that, but lowkey dilf status.”

Johnny went red. Cassie was also colored to the ears. Raiden looked between them and understood context with enough acuity to know that whatever she had just said was not, in general, something one discussed in polite or mixed company.

“CASS!” Johnny finally managed to hiss this and give his daughter a hard sidelong glance.

“Well not ME, but like, y’know…” She gestured in Raiden’s general direction, while the god himself was having a mental field day observing their antics. It must truly have been glorious to be mortal, to experience many things only once, seeing phenomena which, to a god, occurred millions of times in the eons of their lifespan, but to a mortal were wholly unique, singular, and precious.

“Well whaddabout me?” Now Johnny was on the warpath. Raiden leaned back in his seat and observed the exchange further, still wondering what “dilf” signified.

“No, dad, I’m not asking anyone that. Gross.” Cassie made a face. “I mean you’re a movie star, so like, someone prolly thinks you’re hot.”

Johnny laughed aloud at that and drank deep of his lemonade, shielding his eyes from the California sun. “That’s good ‘nuff for me. I just need someone to think I’m hot and it’s all good. My ego is very fragile.”

The three sat in silence a while, the only sound accompanying them a light clinking of ice cubes on glass when someone took a drink. It was peaceful and they finally—all three—felt as if they could breathe once more.

“So Fujin’s really your twin, huh?” Johnny was, evidently, not ready to let that point go. Raiden nodded.

“He is the wind and I the lightning,” he said simply, as if this explained it all. “His appearance is that of a much younger man, but keep in mind, we are neither mortal, nor human.”

“Your appearance probably reflects your job, or something, right?” Cassie was taking a stab in the dark, but she was neither stupid nor unobservant. “I mean you’re like the cosmic dad, so, it kinda makes sense you look like one.”

Raiden pursed his lips, considered this, and nodded. “I am flattered, Cassandra Cage, that you consider me a father figure.”

“What am I,” Johnny grunted, crossing his arms and imitating a pouting child, “chopped liver?”

“I can have two dads, dad,” Cassie returned almost without thinking. Her cheeks colored, but she pressed on. “It’s the twenty-first century.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Johnny, drowning the words in more lemonade and waving his daughter off. “I dunno if Electric Slide here wants the job, though, do ya, big guy? Cassie’s a handful.”

“Cassandra Cage is a competent kombatant; she takes after both her mother and father; I would be honored to fight by her side.”

Raiden’s answers to these things always came across in one of two ways: pedantic and pontificating, or sweeping, all-encompassing, realm-crossing philosophies. This was the latter. Cassie froze a moment, her brain scrambling for words. It was an immense compliment she had just been paid and she, the motormouth of the century, had nothing to say in return.

“Th…thanks,” she stammered, mimicking her father and drowning more words in lemonade. She had her mother’s eyes, in shape if not color, Raiden had noticed, and they widened the same way when he complimented her. He did not hand these out without thought, and so he was pleased she understood the gravity of his meaning. “I’m… prolly not callin’ you dad, though; that’d be kinda weird.”

“Y’think the neighbors would buy the ‘uncle’ bit?” Johnny ventured, speaking to his daughter.

“No way. That just makes you guys sound like a couple on the DL; no one’s on the DL anymore, especially not in Beverly Hills.” The Cages laughed aloud and Raiden smiled once more. Their mirth was infectious. He felt lighter in their presence. It was refreshing. The thunder god felt safe alongside them, a strange phenomenon he did not realize he had lacked until it was placed in his lap, so to speak. He removed his hat and set it gently aside, desirous of the sun’s warmth upon his brow. 

Johnny noticed immediately when Raiden reached up to then loosen and remove the cap which he wore underneath his hat. That thing was a piece of headwear almost as famous as Kung Lao’s razor-edged lid; Johnny could not remember the last time he saw Raiden not wearing it, if ever. Cassie turned as the cap came free and, spilling out, absent of its confining presence, was a thick, light-catching, glossy mane of the whitest hair they had ever seen—save on  Fujin, of course. Raiden felt about in his hair and made the face of someone who has lost something.

“Your uh… scrunchy broke?” Cassie was the first to find her words. She didn’t know what she was witnessing, precisely, but she knew it was rare. Raiden was far too tightly wound to simply take his hat AND cap off in front of just anyone. She wondered if they were the first people to see his hair in millennia. Her heart thudded a little faster as she considered it; this was special and she didn’t even have her phone on her (yet another rare occurrence).

Cassie Cage played the part of a flippant valley girl, but her guts were her mother’s and cleverness and bravery came before all else. She could drink all the iced coffee she wanted, wear the most expensive shades, and shop only at places called boutiques, but she was still a Blade. Blade women looked upon gods with the appropriate awe and she was doing just that at this moment. 

But that was nothing compared to her father.

Johnny was, in a word, thunderstruck by Raiden’s voluminous hair and was assaulted all at once by the urge to see it spread out on a pillow. He stowed that, quick and hard, trying to replace his expression with something resembling nonchalant serenity and contentment, as if it was totally normal for the god of thunder to be disrobing in his presence.

“I seem to have misplaced it, yes,” admitted Raiden, almost sadly. “But it was ancient and… on occasion, ancient things … tire out.”

Johnny leaned forward and took a chance, laying a hand upon Raiden’s knee, lightly, knowing the clothing he wore protected from much of his electrical potential, but not all. There was a low buzz just beneath his fingers. “You’re tired, but not tired out, man,” he reminded Raiden. Cassie was standing quietly, sneaking away from her seat. She knew what she was seeing and it would be best to get a move on while their attention was focused on each other. “You’re a god—like, an eternal battery; you guys never run out.”

“Your confidence in us is flattering, Johnny Cage,” said Raiden sadly, “but ultimately misplaced.”

“I don’t think it is,” responded Johnny with resolve. “No, see, I’m not built to have faith in something I haven’t seen—someone who I don’t know can deliver on his promises, or fight damn hard to do it.” What other god would go to the lengths Raiden had to protect his people? Johnny couldn’t think of a single mythological example, at least. “I have faith in you because you’ve more than earned it.”

It was now Raiden’s turn to be struck dumb. His lips were parted, just a little, as if he had intended to protest, but the protest died thereupon and was caught, suddenly and without warning, by Johnny’s.

[ahmedmootaz]

Hello! I saw you request of requests, soooo. Can I request a story and it can be however long you want it to be. The sort of prompt is what you think would or want to happen in the upcoming episode “The Phantom and The Sorceress”. It’s fine even if you don’t answer this ask, thanks for all your content and theories!

Dear Anonymous,

What, did you think that just because I replied one day before the episode aired that I wouldn’t do it?...Well, I was debating it, but this was a fun one. I really hope you like it, because I spent quite a bit of effort on it.

Beware of possible spoilers, however. I mean, it is all prediction, but you never know when you’re right. So, here’s the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551864

And here is the magical Read More button, for those who need it (Note that Tumblr doesn’t copy italics, for some reason):

It was a dark, cold night in the Forest Of...whatever. Lena couldn't care less about what its name was. It was damp, awful, cold, and filled with monsters. No wonder Magica would hide here; it was basically her dream home. Maybe it was a mirror, too. She trudged with her friends, Violet and Webby, who'd oh-so-kindly volunteered to help her on this mad quest of hers. She was going mad, that's what, and they were both ready to go mad with her. She really was lucky when it came to friends.

They kept trudging in silence, not wanting to reflect on the series of what must've been unfortunate events to lead them to searching for Magica DeSpell in the dark, cold night in the middle of a swamp. An ugly swamp, too...though, now that she thought about it, there weren't really 'pretty' swamps, so it wasn't like Magica chose a bad one; they were all bad.

Despite telling herself several times how she was over this, how she had no issues whatsoever about what they were doing right now and that it was for the greater good, she found herself contemplating any other choice. Just what, exactly, led them to this point?!

...Well, they all knew. It was a rhetorical question. An angry rhetorical question. Leave it to the McDucks to be attacked by a literal video-game monster that crawled out of the screen and treating it like another boring day. Which...yeah, it kinda was for them, but she'd gotten used to the calmer household she moved in. It wasn't like that was the biggest thing that happened today, either, it was more like...the appetizer, even though that wasn't really a correct statement, since it was like eating a whole roast duck only to be told it was an appetizer.

Still, it wasn't the tentacle-monster which they took down that led to this situation. It was the fact that Gladstone...Gladner? Something along those lines, showed up. Apparently, he was the boys' uncle, which made him someone she didn't know. Not that it mattered anyway, he came in, crying about how his luck left him forever before weeping on her arm, which was conveniently next to him. Her sleeve was never going to return to regular levels of salt after this.

It took a while before Scrooge managed to calm him down. It seemed like his luck...which was a thing she didn't know about, had left him. Normally, she was told, they would've chalked it up to some paranormal mystery and had to excuse themselves and send her home, but it went further then that...Almost everyone in Duckburg was losing their abilities.

They didn't really believe it at first, but when Scrooge's monetary abilities started going blank, the alarms blared loudly enough in everyone's minds. It wasn't just him, too; Gyro was losing his intelligence, so was Huey, Mrs.Beakly lost a good portion of her Agent skills, and Dewey lost the ability to Dewey, whatever the heck he meant by that.

It only left her and the rest of Team Magic to fend for themselves and figure out what was draining their powers. There was one teeny-tiny problem, however:

How would they do that? Webby was an amazing fighter, but their enemy, a certain Phantom Blot that Violet heard about, didn't leave a trace, much less a body to fight, and despite Violet's best efforts, nothing came out of her investigations to find where he hid, which left Lena to do the job. One issue, however: She couldn't.

She was a brilliant sorceress, or so she bragged, but there was still much she needed to learn before casting detection spells. And they, she theorized, didn't have that time. Violet was an amazing step-sister and a scarily fast learner, but even she came up empty-handed when it came to learning anything about that power. That left one magic user in Duckburg she knew. Ugh.

She shivered at the memory, snapping out of her mind due to some whimpering from Gladstone. He said he needed to find his luck or else he was a goner. She thought he was exaggerating at first, but then a boat nearly fell on him. 4 Kilometres away from sea. He promised he'd do them anything if she let him accompany them on this treacherous journey while the rest of the gang tried investigating using their own ways, and the agreed. How bad could he be, anyways?

-"U-Um...Lena? I don't know how to tell you this...but I...I hate swamps. I don't think I know how to walk in them. It was always my luck helping me out. I'm cold, scared, and humiliated."...well, not too bad, but he just wouldn't shut up! And while he seemed to amuse Webby and Violet, he was just getting on her nerves.

-"Well, nobody here likes swamp, either! And you've been listing the things your luck did for you for two hours now, is there anything you can do on your own, Mr.Gladstone?", she shot back, irked.

He used to argue and bicker with her, but as his luck kept worsening throughout the day (How on earth does one get mauled by a bear, an alligator, and then receive a speeding ticket because the alligator's death-roll was too fast??), he mostly stuck to paranoia to help himself. She couldn't help but feel bad for him, despite how much he annoyed her.

-"W-Well...I used to breathe well on my own...I could also walk...I think...", he mumbled, his voice a broken mess compared to his arrogant and proud tone, or so she was told by Webby. "A-And...I think I might need to learn how to go to the bathroom in the swamp.", he added, his exhaustion overpowering his embarrassment.

-"Pffft, don't worry about it, Gladstone! The entire swamp is your bathroom! You're basically the King of the swamp!", and there it was, the perky, energetic voice that was trying to keep Gladstone away from depression this entire trip.

-"Oh, quit with the lies! I am nothing without my luck!", he cried, seeming on the verge of tears for the...seventeenth time today? Lena couldn't remember. "B-But...It wasn't my choice! My luck was always there for me! Like...Like a-a stick! Something to lean on my entire life and now it is gone!", he lamented, slouching as his footsteps got a bit slower. For the sake of all them, Lena hoped he regained any of his luck soon.

-"Well, it is true; any being born with a condition, abnormal or not, that aids him throughout his life without any major work done from the part of the being will eventually get used to this condition, which could explain why you're taking this particular misadventure hard, Mr.Gladstone.", Violet bumped in their chat, checking the notepad on which they brainstormed the possible locations of Magica. "Still, I'd advise you to remain positive, as I sense we may be able to fix these conditions.", she added, giving him a small, encouraging smile which he didn't notice.

-"Yeah, probs.", the teenage witch agreed after she felt a nudge from the Vanderquack. Anything to cheer up her friend's friends' uncle. "Hey Vi, are we close or not?", she asked, trying to ignore the eye-roll from her shorter friend.

-"Well, I don't have a particularly detailed map, though I imagine that Magica would mark her camp with a particular sign; an X on the ground, perhaps, or perhaps we must deduce it from the surrounding environment-"

-"Or she might've carved her face on the bottom of an ancient tree!", the cheerful duck happily announced as they entered a clearing with a small dirt road that led to the mouth of Magica DeSpell. A wooden carving of her, anyway.

It was just as Webby said, large, reeking of pride and arrogance, and yet...oddly well done. The details were really nice and actually looked like Magica. If she had to give her 'aunt' something, it had to be that she apparently didn't suck at something in her life. Really though, wood carving, of all things? Was she a carpenter before becoming an evil, awful witch? Is she talented? She didn't have her magic...maybe she had someone else with her.

-"Alright, so, is everyone prepared to meet my homicidal aunt?", the tallest duckling asked with fake happiness, receiving a nod form everyone but Gladstone, who emitted  something of a sniff. Webby readied the axe she brought with her, patting the kitten at the top while Violet tightened her garlic necklace, while Gladstone...he stood there, steadying his back a bit. "Mr.Gladstone?"

-"Ah, forget about it, whatever she does to me, it can't be worse than having an anvil hit me from ten-meters.", he steadied his tone, managing to make it more bitter than desperate. Well, at least he wasn't going to cry when they see her.

She looked back at the tree's base, blocking out the various memories that gave her the urge to blast the door, and knocked. Harshly. Hey, she was going to give herself something. She felt both Webby and Violet's hands on her shoulders, and she anticipated the door opening. Now or never...they were going to convince her, and somehow, she didn't think it was going to be too easy.

Her mind raced, imagining all the awful things she could be plotting right now. She heard garlic was harmful to magic users, something she didn't know too much about, but was apparently true, as she figured out when her magical powers suddenly dimmed as she touched some garlic. Still, Magica could hit them form a distance...and what about that axe? Was going physical the ideal plan? Was-

 CRASH!

The quartet of ducks yelled, jumping back before they realized the door didn't even open. It was something from the inside. Someone, to be exact. A couple of curses came through the door as a metallic sound came through as well.

-"Bloody Hell! Who comes in this hour of the night, in this swamp, to this tree?! I don't even pay bills!", the angry yelling of her not-really-aunt came through. Yep, that was about the attitude she expected. "If you're the Magical Supplies Shop, I'm sorry, but if you couldn't tell, I lost my powers after following a wonderful plan of mine. I cannot pay you in whatever things you want. Now go away before I shoot you!", she answered with a sickeningly sweet tone. Even her voice brought Lena awful memories and forced her to frown.

-"You can do this, Lena. You faced her down before. She can't do anything to you.", Violet squeezed her shoulder, giving her a determined smile. Lena shot one back, before taking a step closer to the door.

-"Hey, this is Lena...Your...", she sighed, bringing a hand to her temple. "Niece?", she finished, awaiting a sick laughter or an undignified scowl at her for attempting to break free from being a shadow. Sorry-not-sorry, Magica. For moment, there was silence. Then there was laughter. Hysterical laughter. So much laughter Lena felt scared.

-"Ooooh, good one, person-who-is-trying-to-fool-me! I don't have a niece! My brother is dead and my sister cannot keep a worm alive! Now scram before my patience runs out!", she thundered from behind the door, leaving the ducklings and Gladstone in shock.

-"She has a brother?", Lena repeated with incredulity, looking at her two friends and Gladstone.

-"I don't know! How should I know? I thought she didn't have family!", Violet answered with equal confusion, shrugging.

-"I mean, technically she doesn't have a brother anymore.", Gladstone chimed in, his voice devoid of any enthusiasm. "Who's this woman anyway? And why does she sound like she woke up on the wrong side of the bed?", he asked, raising his voice a tad too much.

-"The wrong side of the bed?!", came the war-cry from behind the door, only leaving a moment before a couple of locks unlocked and it swung outwards, revealing Magica DeSpell . With a shotgun. Oh, well this was just lovely, wasn't it? "Alright, that does it, I will put more holes than you than there is in...swiss...cheese...", her speech slurred, looking at the three ducklings in front of her house.

The silence remained for a moment, with no one doing anything. Webby brandished her weapon, Violet made a threatening expression, and Lena ignited a spark in her hand. And Gladstone stood there, trying to take all this in. That moment gave Lena enough time to admire Magica's hut; a three-room lodging, more aptly. It was basically a sink, a gas-cooker, and some drawers, a wardrobe, and a bookshelf, all locally-made, apparently. There was also a toilet and a bath in the background. It was a pretty sorry place to live in, but it seemed functional enough.

-"Hi, Aunt Magica.", Lena greeted, gritting her teeth and delivering the widest, fakest smile she could possibly give. "I almost forgot how you looked! We haven't seen each other in such a long time. What a shame.", she continued, trying her best to remain calm and to look the elder sorceress in the eyes. Said sorceress was now surveying the ducks surrounding her, measuring her chances and keeping her hands on the shotgun's trigger.

-"Get out. Now!", the cape-wearing duck yelled, looking dangerously close to a rage-fit. "All three of you. Now!"

-"Three? Hello? I may have lost my luck, but I am certainly not invisible, lady!", Gladstone announced with an undignified tone. He got a glare that shut him up. "Yeah, sure, okay, talk with the people who really matter. Why wouldn't you?", he grumbled bitterly.

-"Listen, as much as we'd love to, we can't really do that.", the younger sorceress laid her hand on her waist, looking both bored and uncaring. At least, she hoped she did. The last thing she needed was for the awful, horrible duck in front of her to sense any weakness, something she assumed she excelled at.

-"Besides, we're already outside! Your evil mind trick won't work on us!", Webby boasted, swinging her axe a bit for intimidation purposes. They didn't seem to work all too well, but at the very least, they made Magica's shotgun point at her just a tiny bit. Was that a victory?...Probably not.

-"Fine then, get away from me! From this place! The last thing I need is to spend my night with a bunch of *McDucks*.", the gun-wielder practically screamed, her veins starting to bulge from the anger. Her voice was laced with venom dripping off of every word. It was honestly both terrifying and admirable how much hate she poured into every word.

-"I told you we can't.", Lena repeated calmly, trying to avoid a fight she saw she was coming.

And then, just as she hoped things would calm down, a loud, roaring BANG! filled the swamp. Every single member of her group jumped, looking frightened as they searched around for wounded. There were none, only four ducks staring at each other. She'd tricked them. And she didn't even have her magic. Lena frowned and turned her face back to her shadow's origin. Her...uh...creator? She was her shadow, did shadows have creators? Maybe a caster was a better term? As much as she hated it, 'Aunt Magica' rolled off the tongue far better than 'Caster Magica'.

-"Are you searching for fight? Because I'm not certain your chances would be very high with the four of us.", Violet spoke for her step-sister. Her new room-mate at this point, but Lena still appreciated the gesture with all of her heart. It appeared Magica actually fired a shot, even if it was only a warning shot. Everyone tried to make good on that statement, looking as threatening as they could. Even Gladstone lifted his fists, adding a grand total of 4% to how threatening they were.

-"Maybe you are! Why can't you get away from me? What do you want? I don't have any more plans for the moment, I didn't do anything illegal for the last month, and you're taking my books from my cold, dead, hands!", the former-Sorceress Of The Shadows barked back defiantly, still pointing at them with her gun. "I don't care if you kill me! I'll take at least two of you down before I-"

-"Could you shut up?!", Lena cried out, her eye twitching and doing everything she could to not attack Magica. "We're here because...because...", she couldn't say it. She couldn't bring herself to ask her for help.

-"...You want to buy something?", her 'aunt' guessed, gun still pointing at her head, but apparently curious.

-"No."

-"You want to brag?"

-"...No.", okay, maybe they did, but they couldn't do that. Not now, anyway.

-"Are we here to rent the room?", Gladstone chimed in, scratching his head. Lena was certain Violet explained to him on the way here...but he apparently forgot.

-"I NEED YOUR HELP!", there, she spat it. She couldn't believe she said it, covering her face afterwards. She felt Violet's hand pat her and heard Webby saying something along the lines of 'There, there'.

-"...I'm sorry? Is this...Listen, it's the middle of September, the swamp is humid as all Hell and I'm trying to set up a fan, if you're just here to brag,", she said before adding 'as you McDucks do.' under her breath, "Then you can come sometime else, these garments aren't exactly fun to wear when the humidity is 85% today so-"

-"No, we need the help. But you'd better watch your back, you witch, because if you try to betray us, I'll shove this axe right down your head!", Webby warned threateningly, patting the kitten once more. Magica actually remained silent and judged what she said, and Lena decided it was time to uncover her face again.

-"And why would you need my help?", the witch repeated, lowering her weapon. Lena could just feel smugness radiating off of her, and she hated it with every molecule of her being.

-"There's a thief in town. He's stealing everyone's abilities. Everything about them. He's stealing it. He calls himself the Phantom Blot.", Violet answered, looking rather impatient with Magica, who smiled with a hum.

-"And why should that concern me?", she smugly inquired and...well, she wasn't wrong. Lena hated that she wasn't wrong.

-"The Phantom Blot hates magic and its users. He wants to eradicate the both of them and you, if I remember correctly, are a witch, yes?", the hummingbird explained, gaining a bit more of a reaction this time: A chuckle. They really couldn't find anyone else, huh?

-"Listen, Purple, if you can remember so well, then you might as well remember that Lena over there stole all of my power. I'm in no danger of this Phantom Blot.", she shot back, a taunting smile on her beak and crossing her arms.

-"Alright, listen up you freak, maybe you don't realize this, but he doesn't know that you don't have your powers. All he knows is that you were the single biggest magical spell to hit this town less than a year ago. I'd say you're still on his hit list.", not taking any more of this back-and-forth, the younger sorceress quipped, closing her hands together and trying a smirk of her own to counter the furious frown and growl her 'aunt' gave her.

-"And you're still on our hit list, you monster! So don't try to even think about doing anything funny!", Webby added, giving her best-friends a reassuring smile, though a somewhat threatening one.

-"I don't think I care about that too much."...she didn't? Oh. Well. There goes the entire base of their plans. "My family isn't here, neither is my home, I don't have my powers, I struggle to eat half-decent food, and I can't even make any new plans after that piece of-", she stopped herself, "Sorry, after Glomgold took everything I had monetarily. In other words, life isn't looking too great for me.", she finished indifferently, though a bit sad and bitter. Huh. That's...really odd. Bitter yes, but sad? Lena wouldn't have ever expected that from her.

-"Tough luck, lady. There's a great pharmacy that sells anti-depressants on the next corner. You know. If you're like me and lost all the joy your life ever had.", the former-luckiest duck in the world suggested darkly, pointing a thumb somewhere. "Look, I don't know you, you don't know me, but please just do me a favour, alright? I need your help. Magic or whatever I just...I just need my luck bad. I need my life back. Can you please help us for the good of your heart?", he got down on his knees and begged, not showing too much emotion, but just enough to almost make you forget his bitterness a moment ago. Almost.

-"...Yeah, listen, the 'good of my heart' doesn't really exist, and even if it did, then I won't be giving it to you of all people.", well...Lena couldn't say she wouldn't say something similar to some duck she barely even knew. Unlike Magica, however, she'd actually accept. Probably. "But it seems Scrooge's thinking isn't there quite yet for all of you.", she stated, almost with disappointment, as she brought two fingers to her temple. "My life at this point is in danger...but that's not really what's motivating me here. What do I have to gain?", ah, straight to the point, are we?

-"What, keeping your life isn't enough for you?", her former-shadow snarked back, utilizing the opportunity to show no respect whatsoever. Ah, that felt good. It didn't feel good to see her nemesis laugh at her, however, as if she knew something she didn't.

-"Now, I may be misunderstanding this, but you don't have much time, yes? Phantom Bolt or whatever is already striking. Both of our lives are endangered, and if it means taking you out...well, I don't need to say much, eh?", oh, how Lena hated the smugness in her voice. They'd accounted for this, but she just wanted to punch her in her stupid beak so much!

-"Fine, does this make you any more inclined?", the younger witch pulled out a purple gem, dangling it from her finger and immediately making Magica's pupils widen.

-"My Sumerian Amulet!", she yelled, throwing herself on Lena, though not with so much force the latter wasn't able to repel her. Indeed, all the younger duckling had to do was raise a hand as her 'aunt' tried grabbing the amulet that was dangling so close to her.

-"There, feeling a bit more excited now?", the intelligent, sharp voice of Violet observed. "We know how much this means to you. Maybe you could even regain your magic with it, yes? This is as much as we're going to offer, so if you don't want it..."

-"...Fine!", came the near-instant response. Magica was biting her lower beak, looking majorly conflicted. "Alright, you have some of ol' Scroogie in you. You want my help? Fine. Fine, no really. How about we seal the deal, then? I help you with whatever it is you want to beat the Phantom Blot, you give me back my Sumerian Amulet, and we all try to kill each other sometime later, affaire conclue?", she extended a fingerless-ly gloved hand, looking all-too-gleeful about all of this. Lena knew the amulet was powerful, but the way Magica accepted their offer...it gave her second thoughts about giving her the amulet.

-"It means 'deal?', Mr.Gladstone.", she heard her step-sister tell the triplets' uncle. Apparently, he wasn't too fond of Magica's new terminology...but then again, neither was Lena. "Though I must wonder how you know of French, Magica.", the short hummingbird muttered as she extended a hand alongside the other three ducks.

-"I have some Savoyard cousins. You're not the only ones with a family here.", came the dry answer.

It took a moment of hesitation, with everyone almost certain that the other side will pull out at the last second. Then, suddenly, Webby's hand went forward and shook, or rather, grabbed Magica's. Violet soon followed, and Gladstone did as they did. That only left Lena, who stared at Magica. If she shakes this hand...she'll take orders from her again. She'll give her the amulet that will make her able to hurt her again. She didn't want to do this...but she had to. Not only for herself, but for her friends. For everyone who depended on her, she took a breath and forced her hand to shake with Magica's. It was...huh. Wow. Her fingers were tiny compared to Lena. How did she never notice?

-"Lovely. Now, you're trying to go after this Phantom Whatever, yes?", the cape-drapped witch asked, looking a bit more enthusiastic. She received a nod from everyone, Gladstone included. "Very well, I can make you an elixir to poison him, though it's going to take some-"

-"Woah woah woah, we're trying to defend ourselves here! Not everyone is a murderer like you!", Lena objected, waving her arms frantically just as her 'aunt' was going to enter her hut. She earned a disapproving stare. She hated them.

-"He's going to kill you, Lena. You're being naïve if you think showing kindness is going to change someone who's bent on murdering you.", the sorceress mocked, resting her hand on her hip. "Besides, why come here in the first place if you're all such big fans of Gandhi?"

-"We want you to teach Lena spell.", Webby replied, her axe still unsheathed, though it only gained an unimpressed look as her enemy got used to it. "We can defeat the Phantom Blot without resorting to your methods, and you'll see that yourself!", she proudly continued, lifting the axe a little higher.

-"A spell?", Magica repeated, mystified. "You...You want me to teach you a spell?! To be back where I belong? To rejoin my magical destiny-", oh, come on. Couldn't she stay clam for five minutes? Why was she acting like a hyperactive child all of sudden? That wasn't how she was supposed to act!

-"Yes, yes, all of that. Now if you could just-"

-"Ooooh, it feels good to be back!", deciding that two could play at the interruptions game, she ignored her 'niece' as she wrapped her cloak around her, covering her beak and moving her fingers for dramatic effect.

-"You are exhausting to be around, you know that?", Lena quipped, glaring at the far-too-gleeful duck in front of her.

-"I try. Now, what spell do you exactly want?"

-"We were thinking about trying a spell to locate the Phantom Blot.", Violet explained, and Lena couldn't help but notice Magica tilted her head just a teeny tiny bit. "We want to know where he is, and if possible, bring him to us.", she clarified, her dignified tone not wavering.

-"You seem worried, witch. Are you worried because you're trying to play us and now you can't?", Webby interrogated with her 'detective accent', looking suspicious to Magica's current indescribable expression.

-"No, it's not that, it's just...Locating people and things is more of a Teleporter thing...", she answered, almost begrudgingly.

-"Welp, we came to the wrong person. I told you! We needed a teleporter, we have a witch. And we made a deal. This is just fan-tastic.", ever the positive one, Lena ranted as she started walking around, waving her arms, exasperated.

-"Of course it would be you to not know magic-branches, Lena.", her 'aunt' scolded, noticing Webby's sudden axe-swing and trying to ignore the obvious threat. "Teleporting is magic. Just a branch of it. I'm more talented in the spells branch and the alchemy branch, alongside shadow-manipulation, of course. Teleporting...well, I can help you. I tried learning it, after all.", she boasted, mumbling the last part to herself more than to the ducklings surrounding her.

-"Branches, huh...And how can we know you're not just messing with us? You could be saying absolute mallarcky!", the seater-wearing duck accused, earning an undignified huff from the older sorceress.

-"I said I tried learning it, and not without some success.", she claimed, hoping to satisfy Lena's questions and just get closer to getting the darn amulet. She didn't. "Listen, my brother was a pretty good Teleporter. I'll tell you what he told me, alright?", she explained further, noticeably uncomfortable with what she was saying.

-"How come I never heard of him if he's so go-"

-"Because you've never spent more than two months in Europe, you brat! Don't you dare talk about the King Of Napoli like that!", she screamed, looking more threatening by the second. A full-blown beatdown was about to ensue if it wasn't for Gladstone, of all people.

-"Hey...I remember that name...He stole my car when I was on a trip in Europe! And my newly-won crown which I won in Barbaria!", he recounted, looking far-too-happy for what he was saying.

-"Bavaria.", Violet corrected.

-"Whatever, he just teleported in my car and stole it after throwing me out! And he had someone else with him, too!", the former-luck king continued, still looking inexplicably happy. "I never thanked him for his service! Some old lady saw the accident and thought I needed help, so she gave me one of her luxury jets to console me! Told me nobody was safe from the King Of Napopi.", he finished, a smile on his face. "That was before the whole...unlucky thing...", and now he was going to be depressed again.

-"See? Now just listen to what I tell you and you should be fine!", the elder duck ordered, apparently unable to sense the internal moment of struggle Lena had before she obeyed, taking a step forward.

-"Yes...Magica.", she muttered under her breath, standing in front of her arch nemesis' cold stare. Her friends were there to protect her. There was nothing to fear. Nothing to fear at all. This was just a forced training session. She was going to get through this.

-"I'd appreciate it if you call me Miss Magica.", and yet it didn't seem like her momentary teacher was willing to make this easy for the both of them. Holding her sly smile, she straightened her back and looked at her forced-apprentice for a second. "Let your magic run through you. Teleportation is a complex art, and all its branches need a constant flow of magic through one's self. Location is no different, let the magic run through your body.", she stated, trying to throw her cloak in a dramatic way.

-"Okay so...like this?", the tallest duckling asked, holding her right arm in front of her and sensing the tingling sensation of magic as it coursed through her. She came to control it after a multitude of attempts, so this wasn't much of a trial. "Oh, and since I might as well milk you for whatever you're worth, can I change this colour? I hate this purple.", she wondered, noting that she didn't get any reply before forcing her vocal cords to add "Miss Magica?"

-"Hmm, well, I don't know, the colour of one's magic is determined by both their will and their chosen Branch of Magic, I had to go through lots of training to change my magic's colour, and since this is my magic,", she pointed at the flame-like purple shape that surrounded her 'niece', "It's going to take a lot of time for you to change it back. But it's no special technique. Some can immediately change it, others cannot. It comes eventually.", she continued indifferently, paying attention to the magic that was radiating off of Lena.

-"Don't talk to Lena like that!", the Vanderquack reaffirmed her stance on Magica as she exchanged glares with the now-dysfunctional sorceress.

-"Webs, it's fine. I can deal with her.", her best-friend answered, turning her attention back to her teacher. Oh, how she hated that she had to refer to her as that! Nevertheless, she was surprised she actually got an answer. She expected some insults and nothing else, but it seemed that once they had a deal...she worked with it. It was...unnerving.

-"When it comes to searching for something, you must see it with your blind eye. You must both wish for it, see it in your mind, and release enough magical surges to clear the way for you. Only then will you sense where what you search for lies. For example, I have a red neckerchief in my house with a raven on it in my home. Try sensing where it is.", the DeSpell explained emotionlessly, guiding Lena a bit closer to her home.

She closed her eyes, as she was told, and tried seeing the neckerchief. Red...raven...yep, pretty plain alright. And yet...she tried releasing energy as she was told, but the only thing that was getting released was a bunch of aimless magical balls that deflated on the ground. She couldn't sense anything. She had the image in her brain, but she couldn't really...get 'it', if that made any sense.

-"Not good. As expected, you cannot properly use my magic. Perhaps you need to be more emotionally motivated to feel the 'click'?", of course it would be like Magica to benefit off this situation. Of course. Well, at least she was partially right. Lena grunted as a response, not wanting to give her trainer any more satisfaction than necessary. "Then we must up the risks a bit.", the elder sorceress claimed moving a bit to where her friends stood.

-"Listen here, Magica! Lena's trying her best, and we have no need for you! If you ever- Hey! My...bow...", in an instant, there was a 'splash'. The eldest of the ducklings turned around to see Webby without her iconic bow staring into the stagnant water of the swamp, shocked and furious at the same time. "That was a gift from my grandma!", she yelled back.

-"Oh, quit it, you want to help your oh-so-precious friends, yes? Then let me teach!", the witch shot coldly, evading an axe swing with relative ease, watching as the energetic duckling gritted her beak; they had no one to trust but her. "Now, Lena, this swamp is filled with alligators and all sorts of nasty creatures. If we don't find Debby's bow in five minutes, it might as well be gone forever. If you can find where I threw it, I'll go get it myself. Sounds good?", too good. Especially that last part. In fact, only that last part, since Lena had little faith that she could succeed.

When everyone around her went silent, the young witch turned her head to Webby. She looked distraught. Closing her eyes once more, she faced the swamp and tried sensing for the bow. Pink, small, and plain. It was a rather noticeable part of Webby. Something that clearly meant a lot for her. If she could find it...Then she'd have helped her friends. She saw it...she willed it...and she started releasing magical sparks. For a moment, just like last time, they merely deflated.

Then, all of a sudden...she felt 'it'. A guiding feeling...like an arm on her shoulders. It made her open her eyes, but she could still see the bow. She saw it. She felt it. It was pulsing...the pulsing pushed her to where it came from:...Away from the water? It was behind her. But the only thing behind her was...she turned around to look at Magica, who had a detestably smug expression on her face as she showed Lena her fingerless-ly gloved left hand. The glove had a small bulge near the wrist.

-"Seems as if I was correct.", was all she said. Lena didn't growl or frown this time. She had no reason to. It slightly angered her to agree with her 'aunt', but as far as correctness went, there wasn't much to critique here. "I learnt this little trick as a little girl. It can help you in a tough spot.", she added as she removed it from under her glove, throwing it into her student's hand. "There, I made good on my promise, right?"

...She did?...Well, yes, she did teach her. Lena thought that she didn't mention some things, such as the formula or how much energy one should dedicate, but in the end, those details were all discovered by her apprentice with no need for more external help. She, should she follow the instructions correctly, was now technically able to find the Phantom Blot.

Then why did she feel something wrong? She felt as if something wasn't quite...right, to put it simply. She expected a bigger fight with Magica. Harsher treatment. Little to no emotions, but it was just...meh. Nothing too big. She stared again the the elder witch. She was smiling. It was a smug smile alright, but it was a smile. It wasn't something she expected to see of Magica. Perhaps as a result of her disdain for her 'aunt' she, too, came to see her as incapable of being a person.

-"I guess so...", she murmured, knowing exactly where her former-teacher at this point was going. She prepared her amulet, not wishing to give it away. "Her name is Webby, by the way.", she added, not getting a response

-"I told you my brother was a good teacher.", her fifteen-minute trainer mumbled, more to herself than to anyone else, and Lena felt awkward. She stared back at her friends.

-"I...uh. Sorry about him. Dying. I guess.", she whispered but it caught the attention of Magica, and she looked positively shocked. "Don't look so shocked. Respect the dead and all that.", that came out wrong. So wrong. If she meant to disrespect him, she couldn't have done worse.

-"Heh...listen, sometimes faking death is a bit easier with magic on your side. If you're willing to share a bit more than the amulet, then maybe I can tell you about him.", she smiled again, though this was one of her more typical smiles, if still an actual smile. Huh. Curious

But just as the newly trained sorceress was about to say something, a 'zap' echoed in the swamp. There was light for a moment, and Magica had to jump to avoid the bolt that zapped a part of her hair and neck. Everyone turned in a split second to see a black-clothed figure with green eyes and a metallic glove on his right hand.

-"And I was just about to pick this four-leaved clover, too...", was the only sentence uttered for a solid minute. And by Gladstone of all people.

The Phantom Blot looked menacing. Pure, undiluted, unadulterated intimidation radiated off of his clothed figure. From afar, you wouldn't be blamed if you thought he was a medieval executioner. The metallic glove on his hand looked more electronic than medieval on closer inspection, but that didn't matter too much. His eyes, fully green by some method, conveyed little emotions, but there's something Lena sensed from him: Hatred.

-"Finally...", his clunky, distorted and terrifying voice announced, his footsteps calculated and his eyes focused. "It seems my searching has led me to the most vile of beings, at last.", he added, closing his fist.

-"The most vile of beings? Listen, I heard some nasty things about ducks, but come on man-", Gladstone tried countering, only to receive a bolt that knocked him over, making him grunt.

-"Not you, you imbecile! These WITCHES!", he cried, hatred drenching his words as he advanced. He most certainly had an accent...But Lena couldn't just pin-point it...though she thought she heard it sometime in the past...

-"These what now?", Magica repeated, apparently offended.

-"WITCHES!", he repeated, not slowing his advance as the group of ducks slowly backed off. "You come in with your magic, destroy cities with your undeserved power, and you...you're never satisfied! You always want more! You never leave something to the people who work for their power!", he ranted shooting a couple of bolts that forced the group the yell and retreat further to Magica's hut.

-"Oh. Witches. I think I still hate you, but a little less than when I thought you said-"

-"It would just be like you to show up now, huh?!", back to interrupting Magica, it was Lena who couldn't keep it in her head anymore. "I spend an hour with Magica to learn how to find you and you just show up like that?! Couldn't you have came in a little early?! Do you have any idea what kind of deal we made?!", she complained, ranting at him, and forcing him to do a double take on her words.

-"Not only are you a witch, but you are a sore loser. I could make my nonna's pasta with that much salt!", he mocked, doing a small laugh that almost sounded dead...like, the whole laughing part was there, but there was no spirit behind it. Just a sick, twisted glee.

-"Hey, hold it there for a minute, you're italian?", Magica asked, flabbergasted. Ah. Right. Sometimes Magica lost control of her British accent in front of Lena. Now she remembered. But really? This was the thing she asked about? Why would that matt-

-"Indeed, and my heart shall always remain there! It is why I find great pleasure and cleaning Napoli of your filth!", he growled, firing another shot which she barely avoided but backing her into the tree where her hut was located.

-"Oooh, you're digging your own grave here, you Blot! I am a proud Neapolitan, and the mere name is much more than wherever you're from!", she challenged, pointing an accusing finger as the other ducks stared at each other. They didn't know what exactly was unfolding in front of them, but it couldn't have been anything good.

-"Don't you dare insult Genova, you wretch!", he shot back, almost losing his nerves for a second before calming down. "No. I am much better than losing my nerves to a fiend like you! Prepare for justice!", he suddenly declared, and the speed of it made Magica unable to dodge the bolt he fired, punching her into Gladstone, who tried hiding behind her, and throwing the both of them into the trunk of her tree. She fell down with a hard 'crack', leaving Gladstone in a duck-shaped impression.

-"Wh-Why me...?!", he lamented before falling. The sorceress tried getting up but she limped.

-"Magica!", Lena yelled. Why did she yell? Why could she possibly yell?...Because if she dies, he's going after them. Definitely. She ran, trying to raise a shield to protect her from another, more frightening zap that would've hit her. Heck, even then, it shattered Lena's shield. Crud, this guy really isn't messing around anymore. But then a pink figure shined behind the Phantom. Yes! Webby was doing it!

-"How's this for justice!", she cried from behind him as she jumped, but he was good. Too good. He managed to spin his entire figure, raise his mechanical weapon and take a fighting pose at once, stopping his assailant's hit. Oh. This guy wasn't going to be any fun, was he?

-"You...Hah! It wasn't enough!", he bragged, pulling the battle-axe from his glove as his previous wielder suffered from the vibrations of hitting a metal. One powerful grab and swing from his glove sent Webby back to her friends, face in the dirt, and with no weapon.

-"What kind of justice are you hoping to achieve?!", cried Violet, hoping to buy them some time. It didn't work, and he only accelerated his assault, firing multiple electrical charges or whatever these were, forcing the ducks to separate.

-"Justice is not my primary concern, hummingbird. I am a criminal, after all, but if I can do my job and rid the world of this evil, then I shall take the initiative!", he calmly replied, not paying any attention to the fact that most of them were getting zapped or were running in terror. "But enough playing around, I do not wish to fail now!", he stopped, preparing what seemed to be a worse, more powerful form of his weapon.

-"Lena, do you think we can take him on?", Violet asked, trying to get them regroup.

-"Nope."

-"Webby, do you have any more weapons?", she turned to the Vanderquack, trying to assume to role of the leader.

-"Don't really think they're going to affect him.", she answered pulling out a few knives that looked like toothpicks comapred to her axe.

-"Mr.Gladstone-"

-"Don't have my luck; can't do anything.", came the reply.

-"...Magica?", she asked her voice a bit desperate.

-"My shotgun has one more round in it.", she declared, pointing it at their attacker, who finished upgrading himself and was about to shoot once again. "We're going to die, aren't we?"

-"Probably.", Lena answered her, watching the black-wearing man as he began shooting at them again.

Well. Nothing else to do but to face the music, as they say. Whoever 'they' is. And whatever that meant. And whatever that had to do with their situation. Oh, give her a break. She didn't have time to think about this fight of theirs. Magic versus one very wronged, apparently, and angry man and his technology. The fight of the century.

The Phantom versus The Sorceress. Time to see how long they can stay alive.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Eight

Ao3,  Masterpost,  C.1   C.2   C.3   C.4   C.5   C.6   C.7

Relationships: queer-platonic intruality, mentioned platonic relationships.

Second chapter of the night, babe! I’m really going for it with finishing this story!! mostly no italics as is my usual, because tumblr Sucks <3 

Warnings: cursing, brief true-crime talk, sexual innuendo, depressive episodes, crying, LOTS of h/c, mentions of past neglect (ok neglect is a really strong word it isn’t that bad, but, idk what to call it), touch-starvation, honestly though this is a ridiculously fluffy chapter guys. 

Word count: 5,618

In three weeks, Patton and Remus had gone from borderline insomnia to a sleep schedule that could’ve impressed even Logan. 

And in three weeks, neither had spent a single night alone.

The talk they’d had after their first sleepover ended up leaving more of an impact than either had realized. Maybe it should’ve been expected: they were both accustomed to saying exactly what they meant, exactly how they meant it, and any sort of vow to ‘never let go’ couldn’t be used lightly for two creatures like that. 

So, independently, they both decided to be as literal as they could about it. God, were they clingy.

But it worked better than anything. There was less aching, more talking, and if they were feeling better, the whole Mindpalace improved. Something something, the delicate ecosystem of the human mind, blah blah. 

And then it worked too well. 

Neither of them really knew what had happened, or how to feel about it (it might have been sad or strange that neither had ever had anything to compare it to, but if asked, they’d both say that’s what made it so special. They’d be right to say so, of course). It was what they had, together.

It wasn’t romantic- they’d seen romantic, knew it as well as they could, didn’t care for it. But in the end who cared about semantics? It didn’t matter, the reasons why Patton stared after his friend for a little too long, or what was making it so hard for Remus not to kiss his pal smack on the lips every time he smiled. Another thing that didn’t matter was the why in response to how they still hadn’t talked about it, but… Patton and Remus had resolved that as a problem for another time.

What mattered was that it just was.

(And another thing that mattered, a little bit, was the how it had happened, and both of them understood that perfectly well.)

Remus lounged on the floor at the foot of his bed, Patton behind and above him. Patton’s fingers were working steadily through his mess of hair, while the pair half-watched TV. They didn’t agree on most shows, and neither of them were especially crazy about arguing, which meant it was twenty minutes of roundabout conversation until they stumbled across something they could mutually zone out to. Whatever. The system worked.

Remus typically preoccupied himself with drawing, painting, or carving some material into something or other (said something-or-other was almost always a knife or a dildo. Occasionally, it was both). 

Patton seemed to favor being distracted by Remus’ hair, though it wasn’t clear why. Remus hadn’t asked; it felt nice, and he was surprised that anyone would actually want to thread their fingers through those oily strings, so why question a good thing? 

Actually, a better question was why not. The thought had stuck in his mind, and he had nothing better to do- art block and all- so. Remus tossed his sketchbook to the side and twisted up to look at Patton.

“Why do you do that?”

Patton glanced down at him. “Do what?”

Remus reached up, prying Patton’s hands out of his hair and holding them up like evidence. Patton blinked at them, and okay, cute- but he looked genuinely surprised by the question. 

“Oh, playing with your hair? I mean, there’s no real reason, I guess it’s just mindless. Something to fidget with, y’know? It’s always all tangled up, too, so it’s like a little puzzle- a puzzle I probably won’t solve all the way ever, but that’s most puzzles with me to be honest,” he smiled brightly, creasing all his laugh lines just right. “Also, um, it feels nice that I get to stay touching you, even if it’s just something small,” he shrugged, sort of sheepishly. “Is that weird?”

But Remus was beaming up at him, definitely looking all sorts of stupid for it, and definitely not caring. He dropped Patton’s hands, letting them find their way back into his coils and matts of hair. 

“You’re asking the wrong guy, Sugar Cookie, but you can keep messing with my hair all you want. It probably is weird, in that case, because I like that you have your hands on me so much-” Jesus Christ it was so hard not to make a sex joke, Remus had to stifle several from breaking his train of thought. Ugh, the things he did for this man. “-And if I like something, it’s 100% freaky!”

Patton just laughed, his nose scrunching up while he ruffled Remus’ hair. 

“That’s- that’s good to know,” an index finger coiled around silver strands, and Patton’s eyes sparkled in the most literal sense, “Hey, Remus?”

Remus let his head rest on the side’s thigh, humming attentively. 

“When you say I can mess with it…”

He looked up with a delightful anticipation, grinning before Patton had even finished his sentence. 

“Can I braid your hair?” The question accompanied by a faint tug at Remus’ scalp, and the feeling of several tangles coming undone, “I’m pretty good at it. Virgil used to let me do his- not so much anymore, but, um. Anyway, yours would be long enough- or maybe longer, if I got these knots out,” he smiled, kindly, “But I know you like having it knotty, so it’s okay if you don’t want me to.”

Remus thought it over, because yeah, he was very proud of his rat’s nest. Besides, he was sure that even if it got straightened out, it’d still be just as greasy as ever- ohh, but that could be a look all on its own, couldn’t it? Maybe he could even weave some garbage into the plait! 

“Sure!” Remus assented, “The rest of me’s naughty enough to make up for the hairdo, so have at ‘er.”

Patton snorted at the pun, obviously excited to get started. When he ushered Remus to turn around, his hands easily undoing clumps of hair with surprising focus, humming to himself all the while, Remus was absolutely certain he’d made the right choice.

It was done in an hour- Patton was slow and careful about every movement. Remus didn’t really mind, though he’d try to assure Patton that it was fine to do it in a hurry, that he wasn’t so sensitive. (Patton didn’t, obviously, ignoring Remus’ comments about how it didn’t even matter because they weren’t real, and pain was a construct. Patton was stubbornly gentle, to the point that Remus couldn’t be annoyed by it. He might even say it was sweet, if he was feeling particularly sappy.)

It had also taken such time because of the decorations Patton had woven into his hair, which he insisted would be surprises. So Remus was bouncing with excitement all the way to the mirror- cuz even though he was sure it wouldn’t be anything like the live bugs, weeds, and dead flowers that he’d had in mind to thread in there himself, he knew it’d at least be pretty. Pretty wasn’t really his thing, sure, but Patton’s brand of pretty? It had grown on him.

The mirror in Remus’ room was chipped, slick with grime, and filled with silhouettes that vanished as soon as you turned around, but it worked just fine. Remus hauled himself over to it, peered in, and okay, he definitely didn’t mind a little bit of pretty.

“You weren’t fucking around when you said you were good at this, Morey!”

In their reflections, Remus saw Patton smile, going a bit pink around the ears. He glanced back to himself, eyes trailing appreciatively down the shoulder-length braid of dark, greasy hair. His grey streak wasn’t twisted in with the rest of the locks, instead it had been left out in front, springy and curly and giving the whole look a messier vibe. The braid itself seemed inky-slick, shot through with glittering hair clips and pins. At first, they looked like plain plastic jewels, but with closer inspection the shapes of tiny beetles, bugs, and moths were unmistakable. They were gorgeous, and probably a better call than putting actual live bugs in his hair; he was less likely to end up eating the sparkly clips, at any rate.

But if all that wasn’t enough, then there were the ribbons. Whip-thin and several in number, they sparkled with enough course glitter to impress a Las Vegas body paint artist. Some were a pukey neon green, and the rest a light, bright-

“Blue?”

Patton met Remus’ eyes, through the mirror again, and the pink slowly traveled from his ears down to his face. He shrugged, grazing the blue-and-green bow where the braid was tied off with the tips of his fingers. 

“I guess I got a little carried away,” he smiled lightly, “I thought it looked nice, with the green.”

Remus looked away from the glass, “You’re not wrong about that,” he muttered.

Patton shrugged, not quite making his eyes. 

“You can take those ones out, if you want to.”

That- the way Patton went flustered and shy and he’d put his colors on Remus- it gave the Duke a very strong urge to do something. The urge pulled at his chest, feeling like cracked ribs in the best way, and it really wasn’t fucking around when it wrapped around his heart and squeezed so tight it felt like it was forcing all the blood right out of him. 

Remus was used to impulses, and the powerful, mind-halting swells of emotion, but this was new and fun and it had jumped out of nowhere even for him. He was staring at Patton, and he had the urge to do something. He would’ve done it, too, if only he knew what the fuck it was that he wanted. 

It had to do with Patton. He should start there, probably.

“I’m gonna keep them in, duh,” Remus replied, finally, and his voice was way louder than it needed to be, “Wouldn’t wanna fuck up the look.” 

Patton glanced at him, smiling self-consciously, and his hand lowered from Remus’ hair to rest on his shoulder. For a moment Remus felt blind, vision white-out and trouble breathing, from whatever the fuck he was feeling, and he just didn’t know what to do.

Then Patton laughed, his ocean eyes squinted, and the burning impulse plummeted to an ache. A giddy, unfamiliar kind of ache. A manageable ache. 

Remus resolved to forget it. He had lots of instincts, and urges, and God knew that not even half of them made sense. It had left, that was what mattered, and he could enjoy the rest of his day with his friend.

He’d never been the type to worry, anyway.

There were days that Patton just… couldn’t make it out of bed. He tried, he really did, but he could only go for so long before it all started crumbling. He’d wake up, and something would just feel wrong, and he’d know that it was a doomed day, but he still made the stubborn effort to save it. Because each time he thought, maybe he’d beat it, maybe he’d make the best of it- and sometimes he did, but most of the time he made it as far as breakfast, and then he was right back in his room by noon to let the depressive episode take over.

So yeah. It was one of Those Days. 

Patton laid in bed, propped up on pillows and stuffed animals with his unfocused eyes staring just above the television. Bad days had been getting rare, and naively, Patton had thought that meant it was over for good. When he woke up that morning, Remus barely stirring beside him, the empty feeling inside was almost ignorable. 

He’d stayed above it for all of two-and-a-half hours before retreating to his room again, this time on his own.

Patton was always alone when he got in one of his moods, and he knew it was better that way. He was no fun at all, just a sad sack of blah, and he knew just how intolerable he ended up being. He couldn’t even tolerate himself.

So each time Patton would tell the other sides that he needed some space alone, and of course they respected that. Roman always hugged him before he left. Virgil checked on him every now and then. Logan, without fail, sent him extra plushies (and sweet snacks, however much he disapproved of unhealthy eating, because he knew how much sugar cheered Patton up). It didn’t fix the ache, but it helped, knowing that people were worried about him. 

But, back to that particular day; the day that left Patton huddled up at the head of his bed with blank, glazed-over eyes; the first day of its kind since Remus had been staying with him. 

It had gotten… harder, somehow. The fact that it had been gone for so long, and he’d been so optimistic, but now it was all back… 

Patton buried his face in the soft fabric of a teddy bear, shaking and crying and feeling so, so, cold.

It went on for a few horrible, horrible minutes, and then there were noises that definitely weren’t sobs. Down the hall; the slamming of a door, followed by distant muttering, and then excited footsteps. Heavy, clunky footsteps. Sounds that brought back acute deja vu, and had Patton glancing up just in time to realize what was about to happen. 

His door swung open, and Remus was grinning at him from the entrance. Patton struggled to put on a smile in time, scrubbing frantically at his eyes. 

“Hey! It’s, like, two o’clock, are you ready?”

Patton blinked up at him, partially in confusion, partially to try and stop the flow of tears. “Ready…?” 

Remus’ face fell a little, and he came forwards into the room. 

“Yeah…” Remus shut the door behind him- with less force than usual- and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. He stared intently at Patton, frown deepening all the while, pupils flitting around as he seemed to take in every detail of his friend’s condition. Patton wanted to squirm. “We were gonna- are you okay?” 

He stared dumbly at Remus for a second more, and then it clicked: they had plans today. He could barely remember what they were supposed to do- they’d been talking so quick, so excited, so happy- but Patton was pretty sure it had to do with a new creation of Remus’. 

Which was… something he definitely, definitely didn’t have the energy for. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Patton sat up straight, trying desperately to stop trembling, “I completely forgot, I just- um- I don’t know if I can make it today.”

That sounded bad, didn’t it? Wouldn’t that be the icing on top of the cake, if he hurt Remus’ feelings just because he was wallowing for basically no reason. It probably wouldn’t even be that bad if he sucked it up and went along with it anyway- except Janus kept insisting how bad self-sacrifice was, but- what else was he supposed to do!?

“Oh, it’s okay,” Remus said, not sounding hurt at all. “I’d be more pissed if I thought you were just bailing, and I know you don’t do that, Pat. Plus, you’re obviously upset, so don’t worry about it.”

  Patton glanced up to find him still staring, somehow more intense than before, and much closer than before. He looked- he looked worried. Not upset. Worried. 

“Oh,” Patton looked away again, unable to stand the scrutiny, “Okay.” 

A hand slipped into his, prying open his clenched fist, and he had to stifle a gasp at the touch. Temperature shock, that was the best word for it. Patton shivered. 

“Can I help you?”

Patton’s eyes went wide at the sweet sincerity in Remus’ voice, the way he said it as plainly and openly as he’d say anything else. Even if it wasn’t a big deal, really, with Patton’s emotions in the state that they were, while he was in his room of all places, anything could send him breaking down again.

“I- I don’t, um-” he blinked furiously, had done that a lot since Remus found him; it was beginning to make him feel dizzy. “Nothing’s really wrong…” 

Remus squeezed his hand. 

“Well, what isn’t really wrong?” 

“What?”

“You said nothing’s ‘really’ wrong, so, what’s wrong-but-not-really?”

Patton tipped his head to the side, for a moment more confused than he was aching. “How do you mean?”

But Remus just rolled his eyes- not unkindly- and shrugged. 

“So, you don’t know why you’re all… sad,” the emphasis made Patton wince, “But I figure that being sad at all usually makes other things wrong, too, and I can help with those things! For example-” he pitched forwards suddenly, ruby-reds wide and searching. He sniffed at Patton (probably not for any kind of actual inspection, but it made him laugh, and judging from Remus’ proud little smirk that had been on purpose.) “You had anything to eat? Or, uh, water? Those are supposed to be important.”

Oh, right. That. 

Patton leaned away, pulling his hand out of Remus’ grasp as he flushed abashedly. But he didn’t- well, he wasn’t going to lie to Remus.

“I guess I haven’t, no,” he tried to laugh it off- this didn’t have to be a thing, it didn’t have to be serious, if he kept laughing. If he got Remus to laugh.

But Remus was already standing, and that brought up another very effective solution; if Patton was being depressing, maybe he would just get sick of it and go. 

“Okay, we’ll start there! Wait here, I’ll be back in- ten minutes? Sure, that’s how long it takes to make food,” Remus was muttering half to himself, but it sure as heck didn’t sound like leaving.

“Oh, you don’t have to get me anything!” Patton insisted, because if Remus wasn’t escaping yet, then he wasn’t going to mooch off of his generosity. “Thanks for the reminder, I’ll- I’ll make sure to grab something soon.”

Remus stopped by the door, tipped his head from one side to the other, pretending to think it over.

“Hm. Nah.”

Patton tried to stand, and found that he was somehow too weak for even that much.

“Remus, please, I- I can’t even eat the same stuff as you, anyway! Don’t go through all that trouble for little old me,” he was edging on frantic, and he didn’t know why he was fighting so hard against receiving needed help, but it probably had something to do with Catholicism. 

Remus looked completely bewildered- a funny look, for him- and said:

“I mean, I wasn’t about to feed you hygiene products, or ceramic, or whatever. I know that I eat weird shit, Pat, that’s kind of the point- but I still know how to make a sandwich? And I know how to hold a cup under the sink so that water goes in it?” 

His voice took on a gently mocking tone. Patton glanced away, sheepish, and couldn’t find a response to that beyond a short nod.

Which was all Remus needed as the go-ahead, darting out of the room and down the stairs before Patton could argue any further. 

Patton stared after him, listened to him bustling around downstairs, and tried to feel comforted. He fell back against his pillows, breathing slow and concentrated. He was still shaking, with his previous exhaustion coming back full force. Some of the light-headedness, certainly, had to be due to the lack of eating, but he was unfortunately sure that it wasn’t even the half of it.

Patton was conflicted: He had to tell Remus that he was okay, as soon as he returned. Say thanks for the food, that it had helped, and they could spend time together tomorrow, Patton would promise. Get Remus away before it got bad, before the dam he’d built so carefully behind his eyes fell and the blue of them spilled out for hours. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie about his feelings- he knew it was bad for him, and he couldn’t keep doing it, not to someone’s face. Not somebody he cared about so much.

He wanted to let Remus stay, beg him to stay if he had to, just so he didn’t have to dig up all his long-buried emotions on his own. He wanted to pull him in and beg for help, even though he knew nothing had managed to help him before, and it was so futile. 

When the door opened some ten minutes later, Patton didn’t sit up. He didn’t even look up, scared he’d cry if he so much as moved his eyes in his own skull. 

“Hey.”

The sound of the door shutting, followed by those heavy footsteps. A soft thunk, presumably the plate of food being placed on his bedside table. Then the mattress dipped beside him, springs creaking. 

“Hey,” Remus said again, “Look at me.”

Patton rolled his head tentatively to the side. Remus was sitting with him, looking at him, his expression twisted up and solemn in all the worst ways. Patton felt the dam begin to crumble. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I know, I know that I’m no fun when I’m like this, and we were supposed to have fun today, and I just can’t do it. I can’t, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, but if you stay here when I’m-” he broke, clamping a hand around his mouth as a sob wracked his body.. “When I’m like this, I’m just gonna ruin your day more.”

That sad look, the one that had no place being in Remus’ expression, sharpened and widened until he looked almost angry. He crawled over to Patton, prying the side’s hand away from his face and cupping his cheek, gently, all the while that scowl was in place. 

“Do you want me to go?”

Patton could barely speak, knowing that he’d just blubber and blubber, but Remus was holding him up by the shoulders and peering down at him so patiently, so carefully.

“I- I-”

“Do you want to be alone?”

He couldn’t- he couldn’t keep lying.

Patton sucked in a breath.

“No.”

Remus grinned at him proudly, pulling back until he was kneeling. He spread his arms out, an offering that Patton had become intimately familiar with. Patton pulled himself up, shaking, incredulous despite the familiarity of the situation.

“Then you don’t have to be.”

And Patton pitched forward, right into Remus’ arms, clutching and crying and trembling like a leaf.

Distantly, he knew that he was still babbling apologies. Insisting that the Duke could leave as soon as he wanted, that Patton felt this way so often and he knew he couldn’t possibly expect comfort every time, a million other sentences that ran over and into each other which only seemed to make Remus clutch him tighter. 

“It’s okay,” Remus told him.

“It’s- It’s not, I don’t even have a- a reason to be so-” a hiccup, “- upset. It’s not like last time, when you found me- I don’t even have a bad excuse, I’m just- just-”

“Shut the fuck up,” somehow, even that sounded caring. “Somebody as Hello Kitty Wholesome as you’s got no business saying such bad shit about himself.”

Patton tried to apologize again. 

“Easy, Sugar, I’ve got you.”

Patton shuddered.

“When it gets bad like this, just tell me, alright?” Remus’ hands traced up and down his spine, across his shoulder blades, down his sides, warm and full and adoring. The smile in his voice was audible, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

And when Patton heard that, it was like a broken bone being set. Not fully mended, but held together enough that it could begin to heal the right way, of its own hard work, and come back twice as strong still. Remus held him so strong and it felt like a cast. 

Patton’s breakdowns were blurred memories at best, but he couldn’t have gotten that promise out of his head even if he wanted to. 

It was an achingly uneventful afternoon. Everything in the Mindpalace felt just a little out of focus, a little gray, and nothing much was going to change that except the day ending. Plain and simple, Thomas was Out Of It- and so, of course, were his sides.

On the whole it wasn’t a big deal, but it did make it downright impossible to finish any substantial work beyond menial, autopilot tasks. And creativity? Particularly for Remus, who more-or-less needed his human at full attention in order to have any creative power, it was totally hopeless. 

He wasn’t the kind of guy to work on half-power, to put it mildly. 

So, what did Remus do, when he had even less of an outlet than usual? It shouldn’t surprise you that the answer is literally anything, if it got people to pay attention to him and make him feel real again (which he wasn’t, actually, but let’s leave the semantics to Logan). What that usually amounted to- these days, at least- was talking, and talking, and more talking, and eventually somebody would probably react to something he said. Ideally. 

So on that particular gray-day, Remus sprawled himself out on the couch and waited for the first person who came by to trap in a very one-sided conversation. 

Said first person was Patton, as it happened, which was just Remus’ luck. He didn’t bother hiding how excited he was about it; Patton had always been his favorite target- of course, it was for a very, very different reason nowadays. 

Patton sat down with him as soon as he was waved over, propping a coloring book open on his knee and smiling warmly. His unoccupied hand went to wind through Remus’ hair, though, to make it abundantly obvious that despite his distraction he wasn’t ignoring the other.

Remus grinned at him, and started rambling immediately. 

And he- well, he wouldn’t really call it talking to himself, because he didn’t have a fucking clue what he was saying. But he wasn’t talking to Patton either, because that kinda defeats the purpose of a one-sided conversation. 

Which he didn’t mind. He wasn’t even listening to himself, he just needed to talk, and Patton wasn’t complaining. Remus was probably saying something unsavory, and still, there wasn’t any kind of flinching or interrupting. Patton even mhm’d and yeah’d every now and then, which was an entirely unnecessary reassurance. But Remus thought it was adorably considerate, and briefly entertained the idea of replacing that sweet little coloring book in Patton’s lap with his own self, to get some proper attention. 

(He would have, too, if he wasn’t so sure that he’d blurt out something very lewd in his stream-of-consciousness kind of mood, with a position like that, and he wasn’t sure if Patton could handle it at the moment. Morality always got a little out of whack on gray-days, too, so- loathe as Remus was to say it- better safe than sorry). 

Remus fell into the rhythm of it for, what, twenty minutes? He was bad with time, but- all he knew was he was thinking about Albert Fish, and talking about an entirely different serial killer out loud (Gacy? Bundy? It was definitely someone infamous), when the hand in his hair suddenly stilled. Patton wasn’t looking at him, either.

Remus glanced around, still talking, to find Logan standing in the kitchen doorway, staring expectantly at Patton. 

“I need you to accompany me outside for a moment. There’s something important that we-”

Patton cut him off with a wave, “Hang on for a second, Teach.” 

Logan obliged, looking bemused, and Patton turned his attention back to the still-tangenting Remus. Who was totally checked out, for the record. 

“Hey,” Patton rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly, “Pause?”

And Remus, surprised, did as asked. He didn’t care about what was going on around him, but he liked that smile, and the eyes focused in on him, so he sat up properly and tried to be quiet. Especially considering those were the first actual words Patton had said to him since he’d sat down. 

“I’m gonna go see what they need real quick,” Patton went on, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and you can finish telling me about Dennis Rader then-” So that was who! “Kay?” 

Remus stared mutely at him for an embarrassing number of seconds. He eventually managed a short nod, some vague utterances of yeah, sure, go ahead, before Patton was out the door with Logan, and he was left reeling on the couch. 

Remus felt a little bit like worms had eaten holes in his brain like swiss cheese, leaving him airy-headed and dizzy. All his organs felt wormy, in fact- squirming and sick and excited about something that really shouldn’t have been a big deal- but! It was!!!

Cuz Patton had been listening? Remus wasn’t even listening! He was probably barely coherent, and he’d been at it for twenty fucking minutes, and- and-

God! He just wanted to grab that stupid adorable head of Patton’s and! He didn’t even know! Do Something, something disgusting in the nice way, something deplorably PG and lovey-dovey and- Ugh! 

Remus buried his face in his hands and groaned. He felt like a goddamn schoolgirl- and not the hentai kind, for a change, but the hopelessly infatuated, cutesy type. Feelings that were gushy, giddy, affectionately bloody. 

It was the straw that broke the camel's spine. Urges and instincts and wants that Remus hadn’t been able to name coalesced into a neon sign in his mind, flaring the answer like it’d been obvious the whole time:

Was it a crush? Remus didn’t know a better word for it, even if it wasn’t- he just knew that he was pining, and for somebody he was happy to call his friend either way. And, huh. Weird. He didn’t know he could do that. 

“I’m back, I’m back!” Patton came scrambling back into the room, jolting Remus out of his thoughts, “Sorry about that, it was- well, it’s not a big deal, something happened with The Memories and- it’s fine now- anyway, what were you saying?”

He was chattering fast, even by Remus’ Standards, an apologetic smile on his face as he sat down and settled all his attention on the Duke. 

Remus said: “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” and wondered if he’d always been that shrill? Or was he being too quiet? What did his voice sound like again?? “I, uh, I don’t remember what I was talking about.”

Patton frowned at him, and looked about ready to apologize again, and he couldn’t very well have that. So, he babbled:

“Right, it was Rader? Um. Yeah,” but that was so far out of his mind by that point, and how did people ever talk while saying things and thinking other things! “Not much to say, ya know. Killed some people, got arrested, the usual.”

“Since when don’t you give me the graphic details?” Patton complained, “That’s your favorite part!” 

“I think I’ll spare you the nightmares this time, Morey! It’s, uhm, it’s your turn to talk.” 

“Oh, hush,” and Patton laughed, shooting Remus an encouraging, coaxing smile that made him just want to debone himself. “Those serial killer stories you like so much aren’t the nightmare fuel they used to be. You know why?”

Remus felt like the inside of his skin was full of spikes. Not in a bad way. 

“...Why?” 

“Because,” Patton said, like he was all too eager to explain himself, “I can’t really be scared of them when the scariest thing is what’s in bed with me.”

Remus flushed. Like, actually-  heat crawled across his face and over his ears, and he honestly had no clue the last time something or someone had made him blush. But Patton, acknowledging his scare-factor while somehow making it obvious he felt only safe with him, was apparently what ticked that box. 

“Right,” chirped Remus, “That’s- me!”

“Of course it is, Silly,” Patton bumped their shoulders together, smiling like he had no idea what he was doing- and to be honest, he probably didn’t.

Remus drank in the contact, happily using it as an excuse to wrap his arms around Patton and pull him closer. He buried his face in Patton’s shoulder, because as far as his impulses told him, he should either get the fuck away A.S.A.P. or drag Patton in as close as possible and not let go. Obviously, Remus had a preference. 

“You- uh- I was being serious though,” ugh, God, stuttering was so goddamn annoying- how did Virgil cope? “You should talk. I’m- I’m sorta overwhelmed.”

That was the truth, or part of it. Admitting it out loud at least managed to take some of the power out of it.

Patton immediately cooed at him- it should have been annoying; it wasn’t- and wrapped him up in his arms properly, muttering little of courses and do you need anything?s. Remus melted into him, finally claiming that spot in his lap (and any jokes his mind might have had about that were long gone, by then), shaking his head and glowing under the attention. 

Of course Patton was happy- after making sure that Remus was alright- to do some of the talking. He talked about his day, what he wanted to do later, or tomorrow, and of cute things that he’d seen, and a hundred other inconsequential Patton-isms. 

Remus was unused to sitting and listening, but with him… it wasn’t as bad as the Duke remembered it being. 

Oh, he was so fucking fucked. 

Chapter Nine

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @donnieluvsthings @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @gayformlessblob @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @thefivecalls