#what the actual frickety frick frack

[katzuyas]

dazzle me with gold

from the start | ao3 | previous part

"We shall leave at dawn," Victor says as they sup. "There is a good two days ride between us and the Nekola estate, what with the carts slowing us down measurably, so we need to utilize as much of the daylight as we can."

As he says, they do.

The world is still dark when they rise, and it is still dark when they leave the tent. Servants rush past them, loading everything onto the carts that stretch as far as Yuuri's eye can see. Among the hustle, they make their way to the stables where Tristan greets them with a soft nicker, but Lamorak ignores their presence until Yuuri steps into his pen and begins to saddle him. He acknowledges Yuuri only with one dark eye that glares at Yuuri as if searching for any weakness in character, but Yuuri doesn't hesitate in his work. That would only provoke another test of strength between them and it isn't the time for it, Yuuri knows.

"He seems to have taken to you," Victor says.

Yuuri thinks he means Lamorak and turns to smile at Victor, but once he does he notes that Victor's gaze is trained on Kenjirou instead. The boy has flushed upon their entering and bowed low to Yuuri even before he acknowledged Victor's presence at all.  

Yuuri himself can feel a flush come onto his cheeks at the memory of it.

"I'm not certain why," he says. "But I don't mind his vigour. He's young and excitable, that much is true, but somehow it's refreshing to be around him."

Victor hums at that. "I can't blame the boy for his affections. He is right to admire, because there is a lot to find utterly irresistible about you, my Yuuri."

"Stop that," Yuuri tells him, heat on his cheeks. "He's only a boy. When I was his age I didn't even know what love was, much less be interested in finding it. Especially with men that much older than me."

"Oh?" Victor turns to Yuuri from where he was observing the saddling of Tristan. His blue eyes sparkle over the pen wall and Yuuri can tell that he will be teased before Victor even opens his mouth. "I would much enjoy hearing about your first affairs, if you wish to share. I can tell you about mine, as well. You see, the first time I–"

Yuuri makes a choked sound before words tumble from his lips in a stream of denial.

"No, no, no, I don't wish to know!" he says quickly. "Please. It's unnecessary, my lord. It is a matter of the past, so let us leave it to rest there."

Yuuri steps away from Lamorak and takes one of Victor's hands over the wall. He slots his fingers between Victor's. They align as if they were sculpted to fit, but Victor's are pale, light, unblemished, while Yuuri's are darker, worked, thicker as well. Yuuri squeezes Victor's hand and gives him a smile that finds its mirror on Victor's lips.

"Is it something that could change what we have?" Yuuri questions. "Because I don't believe it will. You are yourself, and I am myself. My Vitya, your Yuuri, no?"

Victor's face lights up like the sun itself. Yuuri remembers when he called him the moon, but there is more of the bright light of the sun, warm and healing, in Victor now – he's glowing with it when he pulls Yuuri closer to the pen wall by their joined hands.

"Your Vitya, I like the sound of that," he whispers as his forehead gently touches Yuuri's.

"I thought you might," Yuuri admits, just as softly.

They would probably share a kiss, maybe more than one, but a squeak somewhere to the side makes them break apart. It's Kenjirou, Yuuri notices by the flushing face of the boy, who has his hands thrown over his eyes, but still peeks between his fingers at the sight before him. He squeaks again when both Yuuri and Victor turn their attention to him.

"I– I apologize, my lords, I did not mean to interrupt," he rushes to say, bowing low once, twice, every other word. "Tristan is ready, and Lord Orlov has requested your presence, my lord. It's important, he said."

Victor gives a sigh as if Lord Orlov has done him a great disservice. He lifts Yuuri's hand and kisses the palm of it. Warmth spills over the spot and reaches all the way to Yuuri's heart in a wave so pleasant Yuuri almost sighs with it. He smiles and nods instead: there is no need to ask or give permission here, they both know.

"Will you keep an eye on Tristan until I return?" Victor asks.

"Of course," Yuuri smiles.

With a final squeeze to his fingers, Victor lets go and leaves from where they came. Watching as his back disappears, Yuuri can't help the thought that being a noble, being a lord, so someone that many other lives depend and count on to make sound and fair judgements, seems not to be as easy as the drunkards at the town's tavern make it out to be. It's hard work and moments of pleasure stolen away, interrupted, but all the more fulfilling for their fleeting nature.

Yuuri's eye catches the slack-jawed look on Kenjirou's face as he turns around to Lamorak. He smiles kindly, mainly to tell the boy that he did nothing wrong, but it has the opposite effect: Kenjirou only blushes harder in his flustered state.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, my lord, please forgive me!"

And he runs away, fast enough to leave Yuuri blinking in surprise. The last thing Yuuri notes is the flush covering the back of the boy's neck and he chuckles to himself, because he might not have been interested in love at Kenjirou's age, but from that reaction he knows that it will be different for this stable boy.

Yuuri only hopes that his first love will be kinder than his own was to him.

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

I’m so fricken angry! I confessed to my grandpa about the fact that I had a panic attack over the thought of going to with my dad on a vacation in June. But he said that I shouldn’t, and that I WAS THE ONE who should apologize! Even though I left HIM because he was a verbally abusive ass. My grandpa even had the balls to suggest that the younger should always apologize to the elders!

What the actually frickety frick frack?!

the younger???? the YOUNGER?If the elder is the one who has done the Wronging then it is not the flipping younger who should apologise! like wtf?! Ugh! humans!

[chromolume]

so in my English class which is a triple PhD English class like you can only do it if you've already done two PhDs so like we were getting ready to do the final exam and if we passed literally the King of Spain would give us a blowie so we were getting ready for this final exam right and we were all like "what's the question gonna be? probly Shakespeare or smthn" so the professor scoots in right like I mean on a scooter full on superwholock cape and he's like "listen up weebs time to do the final exam" and he hands out the papers and there's just one question on it and it's "is Tim rice good?" and we're all full on freaking out because that is like. the one thing we did not study. so we're all planning essays that have to do with like greek choruses and internal rhyme and stuff not even three seconds have passed and meanwhile this one guy just gets up out of his chair. he has crazy white hair and he's old and he sticks his tongue out a lot and he's German or something. I know that sounds like Albert Einstein remember that it's important for later. and he just fully PLOPS his paper down on the teachers desk and teacher has to pause welcome to night vale and the King of Spain is fully. not even done his jaw exercises. and the teachers going mad and he's like "what the frick frack frickety frack" but then he looks at the paper and there's just one thing on it and it's a question mark and then he's like "oh yeah that's actually the right answer" and that teacher was Albert Einstein and that student... was a mirror

[professionalfandomcollector]

Your handy-dandy FanFic dictionary

-Not in alphabetical order because I am lazy-

PWP: Porn Without Plot/Plot What Plot.

FWP: Fluff Without Plot.

Fluff: Sweet, cuddly stuff that makes ur heart melt. At least for me???

Smut: The frickety-frack.

Tooth-rotting fluff: Fluff that makes u Squeee.

Mpreg: Preggo bois

Oneshot: Lazy author doesn’t want to write more than one chapter. jk but I cant be the only one that gets annoyed???? Every now and then???

Twoshot: Author is less lazy.

Lemon: another, less suspicious term for the frickety-frack.

Lime: Stuff happens, but they don’t actually frick-frack.

Ship: U already know what this means.

Drabble: A fic that is really short and I mean REALLY short. No more than 100 words.

Songfic: A fic that is inspired by or written around a song.

Cinnamon roll: A sweet, precious child who needs to be protected. Too pure for this world.

Sinnamon roll: A burnt cinnamon roll that is too evil for this world, even though they look pure.

Canon: Something that is actually confirmed and correct.

Headcanon: An idea that is canon to you, you lil bean.

[philsdesktopcomputer]

Feelings, a blessing or a curse?

This is a older fic that i wrote when i was REALY FUCKING CAFINATED at like 6am, so if its’s a bit weird that’s why, but this is still one of my favs ive ever written

Summary: “sometimes i wonder if feelings are a blessing or a curse, they’re both”

Tw: idk if this counts but slight self hate bad dreams mention of blood

>Dans point of view< Phil's talking to the camera, rambling on about things that I can't seem to focus on because he's just to beautiful.

All I see are his perfect lips and his perfect cheek bones and his perfectly perfect kissable lips....

And I love him.

I can't do anything about it, of course, 'cause there's this little fact that he's straight and can't feel anything for me, and any advances towards him would ruin or friendship. But at least I get to stare at him, and make him happy as my friend. At least. But he'll never love me, and will likely end up marrying his dream girl, having a family. Forgetting me.

This hailstorm of roller coaster feelings burst through my mind in a matter of seconds, morphing my happy gaze into a slightly less happy gaze, into a dread full gaze. Actual tears forming in my eyes.

Stupid.

I quickly change my focus, continuing the video, pretending I didn't just buy my own one way ticket to dread-town through a simple gaze at this man I've loved for the past, what is it now, years.

He can't love you back stop thinking about him.

We finish the video, Phil making a joke that I half heartedly laugh at, forcing as much joy as I can into my smile.

"I'll edit that later, right now I'm getting tired, see you in the morning," I tell Phil collecting my chill, which had been scattered across the metaphorical world, like it was every time I thought to deeply about my impend-able doom loving Phil.

Some times I wonder if feelings are a blessing or a curse. They can destroy people like me, drag me down a dark, lonely pit of 'what if' and 'don't bother he'll never love you'

My mind can be a cruel place when I got into this state, sadness masking itself as an ocean and drowning me. Phil.....

I fall asleep three hours later, his name replaying in my mind, almost as if a broken record had been turned on and no one had the energy to fix it, leaving it to torture my mind with it's sad notes. Over and over again.

>Phil's point of view<

The video we're filming is going just fine, jokes and laughter. We talk to the camera and smile at the thousand people who will smile back, even though we don't see it.

As I'm talking absent mindedly about what I would do if giant space lazer-cats invaded, I glance over at Dan, his features shocking me for a moment, I somehow forgot how absolutely beautiful this man was.

Yeah, I had been majorly crushing I him for a while now. Okay maybe full out head over heels, 'I'll wait for you forever' in love with him.

I don't really care that he doesn't seem to have feelings for me, I'm just happy to be here. Living with him as my best friend. Able to bask in his beauty like a starved man in the presence of food.

I smile at my thought and continue with the video.

Dan tells me he's going to bed, it's only eleven but he seems on the verge of passing out in his chair, so I bid him a good night and head towards my bedroom.

I clumsily slide out of my jeans and t-shirt, flopping onto my bed and opening my laptop. Internet time.

Seeming two minutes later I glance at the time, 3 am. How the frickety-frick-frack did that happen?

I shut down my laptop and get out of bed to put it away on my dresser, as I don't feel like accidentally nocking it of my bed in the middle of the night.

The warmth of my bed welcomes me as I slide back under the colorful covers. Mmmm, sleep.

My mind is slowly teetering into the bliss of sleep when a loud, blood curdling scream jolts me right out of whatever abyss I was happily falling into.

Another scream has me scrambling, quite sleepily, out of my bed and across the hall without thinking.

Dan. Something is wrong with Dan.

>Dan's pint of view<

They chase me. The shadows. Their laughter is a chorus of terrifying shrieks. Help. The wet pavement burns my feet, wet with my blood. I run, but fatigued is  chasing me even faster than the beasts. I fall, I scream. Help. Again. Help. They're hands on me. Shaking, then my name.

My eyes tear open to meet a gorgeous blue that instantly calms me, blue as the sea and just as peaceful.

I become aware of not only the tears streaking my cheeks, racing to my neck almost as if it were a race. The wetness clouding Phil's angelic features. I also notice Phil's wearing nothing but boxers. My speeding heart stops, for a second. My dream forgotten. But Phil still looks as if he just witnessed a murder. Scared out of his mind.

"Danogmygodareyouokayyouscreamedsoloud" bursts out of his mouth, faster than a spreading bullet. I can feel the corners of my mouth tug upwards, "yeah, I just had a bad dream" Phil smiles softly, and brushes away a tear with shacking fingers.

I've never loved him more than I've loved him at this moment.

"But can you sleep in my bed with me, I'm scared" it comes out in a whisper, not because it's late, or I'm tired, but because that's the highest level I can get my voice to with Phil's perfect face so close to my less perfect face.

"Yes, of course!" He slides under the blanket with me, his arm pressed against mine. This won't do. I don't care if attempting to cuddle him will hint at me liking him, I need his warmth, his safety, almost as much a I need air to breath. I turn on my side and prompt Phil to do the same, he does and he's told, I wrap my arms around his waist and he does the same, then I go a step further,pressing my face into his shoulder. It feels amazing, even if my hearts in my thought. I fall asleep almost instantly, his safety acting as a shield to the destructive tornado of my nightmares.

And I swear I hear Phil say he loves me, in my dreams that night. And I wish I could say it back, in real life.

>Phil's point of view<

I push the door to Dan's bedroom the see him thrashing violently on his bed, trapped in a nightmare. I rush to him and shake his shoulders, yelling his name. DAN!! His eyes fly open, tears falling from them. Our eyes meet and I am instant aware of the two inches between us. So close.

"Danohmygodareyouokayyouscreamedsoloud" flys right out of my mouth, so fast I'm sure he only understood every other word.

He smiles "yeah I just had a bad dream" I smile back and brush away a tear that slips out of his eyes.

"But can you sleep in my bed with me, I'm scared" something twist inside my stomach and my smile grows "Yes, of course!" It comes out a little faster, and louder than I thought it would, but Dan doesn't seem to notice.

I slide into the bed next to him, savoring the feeling of his arm against mine. He whines, slightly, getting me to turn on my side and face him, his arms slide around my waist, heart beating faster than I thought possible, I wrap my arms around his waist as well.

He buries his face into my shoulder and I smile to myself, "I love you," I whisper when I'm sure he's asleep, testing the words. It feels amazing, but as much as Dan's face pressed into my bare shoulder.

*le quick time skip to a week later*

It happened again, for the third time that week. Dan had a bad dream, screaming his lungs out until I woke him, cuddling him for the rest of the night. Again, whispering 'I love you' to him in his sleep. Maybe one day I'll work up enough courage to say it out loud. Maybe.

My eyes fluttered open that morning to Dan's back presses tightly to my chest, my arms wounded around him like someone was going to take him from me.

He seemed to be asleep, I smiled to myself. Slowly running my head through his adorable hobbit hair, pressing my face into his shoulder blade. "I love you." I whisper

"I love you, too."

I sit quickly, taught, like a live wire What

> Dan's point of view<

The feeling of Phil's fingers in my hair wakes me.

Than his face is pressed into my shoulder blade, and I smile.

Then he speaks and my heart stops.

Instead of pretending to be asleep I say it back. Not knowing where this will go and where it is already.

I shiver as he quickly pulls away from me to sit up, I turn and look at him, tears already wetting my eyelashes. What have I done? What if he wasn't saying it to me? What if he was on the phone? What if he didn't mean it?

We stare at each other for a minute. A soul shattering 60 seconds.

And then Phil's on top of me, his lips against mine, and we kiss. The second the kiss is broken I whisper "So does that mean we're boyfriends now?" He kisses me again and whispers a yes in my lips.

Sometimes I wonder if feelings are a blessing or a curse.

They're both.

Sorry ending was a tad bit rushed hope you liked it anyway

[poison-maiden]

Where The Frick Is Mother?

Where frick is mother? She has been gone for a month. There is no other option so it’s time to hunt. She’s not in the living room of the kitchen. Maybe she’s ditchin’. She’s not near the shack or her room. I guess she’s not doing the frickety frack with father. Where the knick knack flap jack is mother? She isn’t at work or at the park. I’ve got to find her before dark. WHERE THE KNICK KNACK PATTY WACK FLAP JACK IS MOTHER?!?! She’s not at her friend’s house but the friend seems sad. Then I say “WHERE THE KNICK KNACK PATTY WHACK FLAP JACK CLICKETY CLACK IS MOTHER!?”. Then her friend looked at me wide-eyed and was like “Jfc calm down.”. After that the LIAR said she was in another town. After that I was mad. So I finally shouted in a secluded area “WHERE THE F*CK IS MOTHER?!?!”. Of course I was heard by no other.

After that beautiful incident I set off to find her because I was determined. I walked all over town and couldn’t find her so I called. When no one answered, I was appalled. She always picks up on the second or third ring m. Looks like that achieved nothing. So then I’m like “What the f*ck mother are you dealing drugs?”. I would actually rather have a lot of hugs. Finally I found her but not exactly her. It was a tombstone with her name. So I shouted “WHAT THE F*CK MOTHER!?!?”. Then my alcoholic dad came out of nowhere. He was holding a beer and said to me slurring his words “Ey yo son, you missed the funeral a week ago. Sorry ‘bout that I fergot tag take ya.”. I then remarked “You’re a f*ing idiot.” and he was so mad that he left and never came back. So I was alone with my mother. Then I whispered “What the f*ck mother?” And left and so with no more parents to love ( f*ing edgelord) I set off to BREAK THE CYCLE AND STOP RHYMING.

THE END So this was an old story I rediscovered when searching for something. I made this a long time ago and this bloomed from an inside joke. @monarchyleader @starrysnowflakes REMBER THIS?

[buffycuddlespigs]

Oh my fricking GOD! The piece of music I have always headcanoned as Rodney's favourite piece of music, the piece of music I was going to write in to the fic I was working on is actually part of the soundtrack of the film I'm basing the fic on!! What the frickety frack kind of crazy coincidence is that??