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softxhariana · 3 years

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34+35 live stream

description: ariana’s live stream before debut of 34+35 remix music video.

word count: 2.22k

A/N: little piece based off this live stream that ariana did in the countdown to her releasing the 34+35 remix music video with doja and megan. obvs not included every question but just a few fun bits and harry mentions for you x

also disclaimer, this is NOT real, if u don't wanna read about these two then don't, i’m not tryna act like they’re together it is fiction.

❤ anywayz hope u enjoy luvs xox

❖ "HELLO EVERYONE! thank u for coming to this premier,” ariana smiled sweetly at the camera, as the video cut to a shot of her for the beginning of the countdown.

“we had so much fun making this 34+35 remix video for you, and uhh, we hope you love it.” she continued, playing with her hair. no matter how long she did this for she swore she would never cease to get slightly nervous in these situations. where it was her alone, in front of a camera. but her fans made her feel at ease, and she felt she owed them something, as she hadn’t done many quarantine interviews like other celebs have.

“i thought i would come celebrate and join the countdown with you guys. which is something that I've never done before, but i’m very happy to be here and i was very excited to get some questions from you all...” she held up the sheets of twitter questions she had received, “um that i’m gonna be answering while i’m here so, i cant wait to celebrate this together and countdown and answer some of your questions!” she finished with a smile.

and it was genuine. a real smile that her fans were thrilled to see.

ariana was genuinely so happy and content with her life right now. with her family, her music, her friends, harry. harry her FIANCE!! might she add.

everything just felt perfect, and after all the shit the last couple years had thrown her way, she appreciated the break.

she got her love back, she was making music that she fully loved, and put her whole soul into, and she had fans who had stuck with her and supported her through some of the darkest times in her life, that were now able to experience her happiness and personal growth with her. so truly, little things like this, felt like the least she could do for them.

“ohh this is a good one because its 34 35 related” she tucked her hair behind her ears, “@noirgrande said ‘ummm its just i wanna the end of 34+35 is it awww shit or nooo shit, i just wanna sing the song right”

“umm it is indeed no shit” she confirmed, smiling matter of factly at the camera before reciting the closing line of the song.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“@arianalocks1223 said ‘will we get to see the track list before the songs release?’” she paused for a second to process - which turned into a few more seconds, she was a bit slow today. she had told harry with full sincerity that she thought it was because she was getting old but he had just cracked up at her absurd statement, and told her that if that was the case he’d still think she was a milf

“you will!” she nodded with certainty, “indeed. ummm... i can tell you them now” she blurted, oops.

“i suppose thats not like... is that against the rules? can i do that?” she turned, to question scooter who was supervising off camera, not wanting to get her label mad at her for releasing too much information, something she has a tendency to do.

after getting the nod of reassurance from him she turned back to the camera, “so out of ‘POV’, you go into, um, an interlude called ‘someone like u’. after that is a song called ‘test drive’, after that is the 34/35 remix with doja and meg” she smiles lightly, “and after that is a song called ‘worst behaviour’, and after worst behaviour is... a song called ‘main thing’...” she finishes, a shy smirk forming on her face, dimples appearing, “so that’s the tracks.”

continuing with the countdown, ariana felt her heart warm at the love her fans were giving her and this album. she loved interacting with them and making them happy and proud of her so knowing she had done just that, was an amazing feeling.

“umm hesbloodsline... @hesbloodsline ... i’m really fond of this question because its really to the point, ‘where's the pig and where the fuck is harry?’” she smiled, holding in a laugh.

“piggy’s here, she's great, she's really doing so well and life is really good for her right now, she's really thriving and doing her thing” she ranted, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, “um, i make her big salads everyday that she likes, she's doing really great. she asked me to stop posting her as much because she's actually really offended by a lot of your jokes that you make on twitter, she asked me to have a word with you guys” she continued to joke, well aware that she probably found herself more funny than anyone else did right now.

“she doesn't like the jokes about being eaten, they really hurt her, umm yeh, and she asked me to convey that... no she’s great...” she finally decided to answer, “and harry, is on set today, so um, yeh thats where he is... but don't worry i will tell him to keep you in the loop, i’ve got you”

ariana unconsciously let a small smile take over her glossed lips when talking about harry. he had been so excited about this new project and seeing him passionate and happy about anything he’s doing, always made her happiest.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“nicole! @nastyctrl. nicole said ‘who helped come up with the concept for the positions music video, love u sm ari’ love you so much to, i love you so much more” she paused, she loved this story,

“um this is actually a really funny story, dave and i had been going back and forth on several different concepts, and i couldn't, like... marry one... i couldn't really, like, really commit to one, i wasn't 100% sold. and it was missing a certain element of empowerment. and i kept, you know, trying to think of things that would make it more impactful cause i wasn't loving what we had...”

“anddd then me and harry were on this huge hike, and he just turned to me and was like, ‘what if you were the president?’ which was like, not at all fitting cause i was dying and complaining the whole time. but i was like,” she tried to imitate a shocked face through her smile and laughed

“and when i called dave he was like ‘oh... kay, ill call you guys back’ and had the whole production team redo everything, and i had mimi pull completely different outfits and we completely started over cause that idea was what i was, craving and missing. and i was like, wow, thats so perfect” she smiled, shrugging her shoulders, “so yeh, honorary directing credit to harry styles, if you liked that”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“this is from @borderlinevinyl, who said ‘how much of the album was recorded at your little home studio?’ ummm..” she sang, looking off camera in thought, everything in quarantine had honestly just blurred into one so she was struggling to remember what exactly she recorded where,

“um... a lot of it was... i think i did parts of everything here and parts of things at tommy's i know i did, um, the final chorus ad-libs for positions at home” she began listing in her head, “i know i did all of off the table at home... i know i did the final chorus of my hair at home because we- i-” oops. she had to control the laugh threatening to leave her lips at the lack of subtlety in her correction

“-i got out of the shower and he was like ‘oh your whistles are really here right now’, and i was like y’know what... yeahh they are aren’t they” she laughed as she squinted her eyes and recited that part of the conversation, even trying to imitate his deeper accent.

she had been singing in the shower - as she always did - and harry joining her never seemed to stop her from belting out any whitney or old one direction classic she wanted to. he would even join in sometimes and they'd end up with their own mini concert, dancing around naked, shampoo and conditioner bottles in hand singing their hearts out to everything from high school musical to nicki minaj to fleetwood mac.

while it felt like too bold of statement to make as she truly revelled in and enjoyed everything they did together, showering with him was truly one of her favourite’s. whether it was steamy shower sex that had all glass surfaces in the room fogging up or letting loose and dancing and singing under the pouring water, every moment felt so intimate and sacred. it truly made her feel like they were they only people in the world.

of course he would claim she was out singing him every time she whistled and would jokingly try to replicate the note but he was truly just in awe off the sounds that came from her mouth (in all senses of the word;)

"-and so i opened ‘my hair’ and just randomly did that” she continued, “um what else did i do here, i did the a lot of the backgrounds and ad-libs for 34+35 here, um, obvious was done at home, a lot of six-thirty was done at home”

caught in her own thoughts she only realised she had probably been droning on for too long when she caught scooters eye across the room and with a blush she shook her head as if to clear it, “this is an annoying answer, everything was kind of all over the place but i did a lot, a lot, a lot of the vocals for the album at the house" she finally finished the long answer, moving on quickly as she realised she didn't have long until the premiere and she wanted to answer as many of the questions as possible.

“ok, second last question from hannah, ever- @everdxystxless, im sorry i don't know how to pronounce that” she laughs looking up at the camera with wide eyes, not sure how exactly how she was supposed to go about pronouncing the username,

“im sorry, um, but anyway she say’s ‘ari baby, how do you feel about harry getting to do a movie with florence pugh, we know your a big fan of hers, ps. i love you so much!’ well hannah, i love you too” she replies, as she thinks back to when harry first introduced the two, after she had gotten over the initial fangirling, the pair became amazing friends. florence struck ariana as such a genuine, loving person and they shared the same dry sense of humour. plus ariana might of been just a little obsessed with her accent - not that she would ever admit that and scare the girl off.

“and... um, yeah, it literally, made me beyond happy, i was fully like, fangirling when i met her the first time” she laughs as she plays with her hair, “she honestly, probably was like, ‘who the fuck is this girl? what is she doing?’”ariana imitated, a faux scared/weirded out look on her face, playing the part of a mildly pissed off florence - which she luckily had never been on the receiving end of, “im sure i was being the opposite of subtle about it but, no, she really truly is the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, talented human being” she emphasises, the thought of any news outlets of fan’s trying to spin a ‘jealousy’ story about this making her internally role her eyes,

“midsommar is, like, one of my all time favourite movies, and she's amazing in it, and harry’s like so fucking lucky its crazy. so yeah, thats insane”

~~~~~~~~~

"...so yeah... thank you so much! this was so much fun!” ariana exclaimed as she wrapped up the Q&A, smiling wide at the camera, she knew her fans were going to love the music video and she couldn't wait for them to watch it, plus interacting with them in this way always made her happy.

“i love you guys, i miss you” she reminded, “i am so appreciative of everything you've done for this album, for these singles, for this music. i hope that, um, that this makes you super happy, i hope it makes you smile...we had so much fun shooting it and um, the girls are so fantastic, so i hope you love this and i hope you love the deluxe!”

ariana didn't know how many more ways she could say thank you and express her gratitude but she still had over a minute and a half so she’d have to come up with something, even if it meant she’d sound like a broken record

“i am so thankful for everything and for the love that you've shown this music i cant even begin to articulate it properly so, thank you! i appreciate it so much” she breathed out all in one, “but anyway, the video should be starting soon, so... i hope you like it, don't refresh! it’ll be here soon... i promise... just don't refresh” she urged dramatically, she was really dragging this out, “but yeh” she got out through laughs “the video should be starting anytime now, i love you guys” she blew a kiss to the camera before moving as close to the lens as possible “byee”.

🖤 there u go!! i hope you liked it, and any feedback would always always be welcomed and so so appreciated pls and thanku x

#3435remix #35+35 #ariana #grande #butera #ag #agb #viral no1 #hiphop #rap #RnB #music #female #woman #trio #livestream #countdown #harrystyles #hs #hariana #dojacat #megan thee stallion

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cavalierious-whim · 3 years

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Sylvain's wholly unprepared for Felix to ask him to slather sunscreen upon his pasty (well-defined) back.

Happy Sylvix Summer. Take my dumb beach fluff rife with Teen-aged Tropey Rom-Com bullshit. Read here on AO3 for better quality, and follow me here on Twitter!

Despite his long-harbored crush, Sylvain never thought much of a half-naked Felix until one fateful beach trip.

They’re past their high-school years and well into college. Young enough to not be tied down by relationships. That’d be boring to Sylvain, who has a new flavor every week and happily so.

Mostly because it’s easier to be casual than commit to something that’d mean more.

Felix is just an old friend, he tells himself. A second glance, really. Okay, well, maybe not second-- that’s a cruel thing to say. Sylvain would give his left arm for the guy, literally, but he’s never really considered the why behind the thought until then.

And sure, he’s always liked him, even if Sylvain’s never thought much about it. Felix is kinda cute in a deranged cat sort of way.

But now, it makes a lot of sense. Stares him right in the face, a visage of gleaming pasty white skin and deceptively toned muscles. Sylvain’s just fucking blind and stupid, and now it can’t be unseen.

Felix is no longer a scrawny and gangly thing; now he sports lithe and supple muscle. Defined shoulders and a slim waist that tapers into what’s probably the finest ass Sylvain’s ever seen. Pert and shapely, perfect in every way.

Sylvain stares long enough for his ice cream cone to melt all over his hand.

“I’d tell you to take a picture,” says Ingrid, her laugh pealing through the air from behind her hand. “But that’d only piss him off.”

“Ingrid,” says Sylvain panicked. He shakes the melted, sticky mess from his hand as he continues to gawk. At least they’re in the shade under his umbrella, so it’s only a minor mess. “When on earth did that happen?”

Ingrid raises an eyebrow. “When did what happen?”

Sylvain groans. Of course, she’d make him say it. Ingrid’s the worst (or the best) when it comes to forcing others to make fools of themselves. She’s already adopted a devilish smirk, waiting for Sylvain to dig himself a hole deep in the beach sand.

A grave might be more fitting, considering what Felix would do to him if he ever caught Sylvain staring.

“I mean, what’d you expect?” asks Ingrid, sparing Sylvain from further embarrassment. For the moment. Sylvain knows better than to think that she’s done with him. Ingrid’s only biding her time. “When people play sports, they get ripped.” She points to Sylvain. “Look at you. Look at me.”

“I play baseball,” says Sylvain in a low hiss. “I can throw a pitch as fast as a car on the highway and sprint the length of an entire field. Fencing is barely a sport when compared.”

Ingrid just looks at him, her face flat and unimpressed as she sips at her drink and twirls the tiny decorative beach umbrella within it. “I dare you to tell him that.”

Sylvain flounders the tiniest bit. Absolutely not. He likes living far too much. Ever since Felix picked up a foil and learned how to bout, he’d been considerably more dangerous than the crybaby know-it-all they’d all grown up with.

“But, like… how?” says Sylvain as he wonders, persistent in his confusion as to when Felix suddenly became handsome. Like, model handsome. Like, Sylvain would take him around and then pound him into the sheets handsome.

Sylvain never thinks about sleeping with men. Except for Felix, but that’s something that he usually pushes to the back corner of his mind because it’s really fucking awkward to think that way about your bestie.

And Ingrid knows, she’s known for a stupidly long time because of one shitty night where he’d drunkenly blubbered his feelings out to her. In rare form, she didn’t laugh at him that night, she’d only combed her fingers through his hair and called him the world’s biggest idiot.

He’s good at that. Being dumb. Probably his best quality.

Sylvain can’t stop looking, his eyes grazing over Felix’s perfect form. My wet dreams are never going to be the same again, he thinks, his mouth going dry.

“Disgusting,” says Ingrid, making a face. She knows what Sylvain’s thinking, what he can’t help but agonize about. But then she waves her hand dismissively. “Also, he does squats from sun-up to sun-down. No wonder his ass looks so good.”

“Wait, are you looking?” asks Sylvain a little too quickly. Accusatory. He watches her through a shrewd gaze.

“Oh, Goddess, no. I’d rather choke.” She makes another face, this one cross-eyed as she cuts across her neck with a finger dramatically. “I’ve just been watching your sorry ass moon over him--”

“I’m not mooning--”

“Who’s mooning over what?”

Both Ingrid and Sylvain freeze at Felix’s voice. Then, Sylvain laughs, high-pitched and incredibly awkward.

“Nothing--”

“Sylvain and how he’s--”

Sylvain kicks her and Ingrid curses. Felix watches on, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sylvain’s rarely rude to Ingrid (okay, so that’s a lie; he’s rude to her constantly, but she’s Ingrid, and she deserves it every time), but he shoots her the meanest look that he can muster.

Which, admittedly, isn’t very threatening.

“Is there a reason you look like a fucking five-year-old trying to threaten a classmate who stole your juice box?”

Sylvain nearly congratulates Felix on his brilliant use of imagery. Instead, he starts with, “Felix--”

“Oh, don’t mind him,” cuts in Ingrid. “He’s just annoyed that I called him out on his bullshit.”

With that, Felix perks up because if there’s something that he loves more than anything else, it’s watching Sylvain getting dunked on. Which is more often than Sylvain likes to admit.

“So,” says Felix, “The usual.”

“Felix, why are you even here?” Sylvain doesn’t mean for it to be so biting, but it comes out sounding quite like Felix himself, an absolute feat.

“We’re at the beach, and together at that if I must remind you,” says Felix, cocking his head to the side. “The sun’s high and blazing, and I’m pasty as hell. Help me with this.”

A demand, not a request. So incredibly like Felix. Sylvain barely catches the bottle that is thrown at him. “Sunscreen,” he reads aloud rather dumbly.

“Yes, you dimwit,” says Felix. “Not everyone tans like you. Some of us come out looking like lobsters, and I don’t mean in a tasty kind of way.”

Sylvain disagrees. Felix looks the tastiest he’s ever seen, and Sylvain’s known him for nearly two decades.

“So what, like rub this all over you?”

Felix rolls his eyes, replying slowly like he’s speaking to a child. “Yes. My arms are short and you’re conveniently there. Even if I’m flexible--” Sylvain super doesn’t need to think about that, “--there are parts of my back that I can’t reach.”

Sylvain would rather burn in Ailell than do this because this is now his absolute worst fucking nightmare. A unique hell, tailored just for him. A test of the Goddess.

Or a memory he’ll wank to for months to come.

Definitely the latter, knowing Sylvain.

Ingrid, bless her shrew-like and ill-tempered soul, shoots Sylvain an amused glance. Soaks the entire thing up, her mouth tipped to the side as she delights in Sylvain’s discomfort. This kind of thing fuels her; juicy gossip feeds her for days and then some.

Especially when it comes to Sylvain.

“Ingrid, fuck off,” says Sylvain. Felix, who didn’t see her look, reaches out to swat Sylvain in return. “Ow!”

“You fuck off,” says Felix. “Stop being rude.”

“She’s the one--”

“Alright, I’m leaving,” says Ingrid abruptly, “Before this lover’s spat gets any worse--”

“This isn’t a spat--” starts Sylvain.

“Lover’s?” exclaimed Felix, pink in the face.

That catches Sylvain’s attention as he turns to him. What an odd reaction-- the embarrassment as he refuses to look either of them in the face. Sylvain’s mouth falls open in surprise and Ingrid’s clamps right up. Then, she smiles, the sly little grin that she gets when she’s up to no good. Never bodes well. Sylvain’s about to say something when she speaks.

“I’ll come and check on your boys later, yeah?” Oh, Ingrid’s up to no good, about to throw Sylvain to the sharks. Wholly intent of leaving him behind with Felix and his newfound discovery that his crush is probably more than a crush.

“Ingrid--” starts Sylvain, but before he can properly beg her, Ingrid’s gone, leaving behind nothing but a trail of footprints in the sand.

Felix plops onto the towel in front of Sylvain, his back facing him. Sylvain looks at the expanse of it, far broader than he remembers. He swallows thickly as his hand hovers awkwardly over Felix’s skin.

“Insufferable, that woman. What my brother sees in her I’ll never know.”

“Even people with terrible personalities have matches,” says Sylvain in humor. A decent attempt at distraction that usually works with others.

Felix grunts. “Yes, well, you’d know that best of all, wouldn’t you?”

Ouch, thinks Sylvain. Nasty little stinger right out of left-field but incredibly on-brand for Felix. His favorite thing to do is remind Sylvain about his habitually shitty dating habits.

“That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?” Sylvain uncaps the bottle of sunscreen and squirts a generous amount onto his palms.

“What, can’t handle the criticism?” Felix snorts. “Sylvain, you’ve slept with the entire volleyball team, minus Ingrid.”

“Have you seen them, though? Legs up to here, literally. Except for Ingrid of course, because that’d be so gross--”

“Ridiculous,” says Felix, snorting again. “Utterly predictable. And you wonder why you’re always dead last.”

Sylvain frowns at the strange wording. “I’m top of our class.”

Felix doesn’t immediately answer. “That isn’t what I mean,” he finally says, tilting his head back slightly to look at Sylvain. Then his expression hardens, turning aggressive again. “Are you going to lather me up or should I go ask Ingrid instead?”

“No,” says Sylvain, “Just… yeah, okay. I’ve got this.”

“Sylvain, it’s just sunscreen.” There’s a tiny frown on Felix’s face.

Sylvain’s a confident man, able to woo anyone into his bed. Rubbing sunscreen into Felix’s skin should be easy. It isn’t. Sylvain hesitates and hesitates, fingers hovering over the smooth line of Felix’s bare shoulders.

Nothing explains Sylvain’s sudden dry mouth or the inkling that this is a terrible idea.

“Sylvain,” says Felix, clearly waiting.

Felix’s skin is warm to the touch and soft under Sylvain’s calloused fingers. He starts at his shoulders, massaging the liquid in, squeezing at Felix’s tight muscles.

“Tense?” asks Sylvain, teasing him.

“Tired,” says Felix, sounding-- well, just that. Exhausted, even.

Sylvain’s hands pause as he leans forward slightly. “You train too much.”

“You don’t train enough. You could be on the national team if you gave a shit.”

Sylvain laughs and leans even closer, his mouth near Felix’s ear. “Yeah, well, that’s the difference between us. I don’t want to be on the national team.”

Felix harrumphs and crosses his arms over his chest. “That just makes you dumb, then.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Sylvain smooths his hands across the top of Felix’s shoulders, then sweeps them down and under his blades, thumbs digging into the meat of Felix’s back.

Felix lets out a low moan, a sinful-sounding thing that makes Sylvain bite at his lips and look to the sky. He’s never really prayed before, doesn’t believe in the Goddess, but he asks Seiros for strength.

“Shit, Sylvain,” says Felix with a sigh. “That’s--”

“Seriously, Felix, you’re all locked up.”

Felix whines when Sylvain raises his hand to press into the muscles at the base of his neck, his fingernails just barely scratching across Felix’s skin. “Sorry,” murmurs Felix, pink in the cheeks again, hands shifting awkwardly in his lap.

“You need to cool down properly after your sessions,” says Sylvain. “You’re working yourself too hard. Nothing but knots and bone back here.”

“Sunscreen,” says Felix suddenly.

“What?”

“The sunscreen. Your hands are dry.”

Right. The sunscreen. Sylvain isn’t supposed to be giving Felix a massage, he’s supposed to be oiling him up and readying him for the sun. He slicks his hands up again, murmurs an apology, and finds the lower part of Felix’s back this time.

“Sorry. Can’t have you burning to a crisp out there.”

Felix sighs at the touch, leaning into it slightly and Sylvain nearly dies on the spot. So, maybe he’s just now noticed how handsome Felix is, but it’s not exactly the first time Sylvain’s thought about him like this. Usually, when he does, he tucks it away deep-- not because it’s embarrassing, or Sylvain has reservations about men, but because Felix would slaughter him if he knew.

Sylvain lets out a long breath as he rubs the sunscreen into Felix’s skin, making sure not to miss any spots.

“What’s Ingrid doing?” asks Felix, nodding to where she stands fifty paces away in the sun.

Sylvain looks up, squinting at her. Ingrid flashes him a grin before pressing her thumb and forefinger together on one hand, and then taking her pointer finger with the other and--

“Is she--”

Ingrid makes the crudest gesture known to man, and then, wiggling her eyebrows, points directly to Felix, then Sylvain right after.

Sylvain’s going to kill her. Absolutely murder her in her sleep. He’s got a spare key to her place and he knows where she keeps the sharp knives. Glenn might forgive Sylvain for it if they properly explain. Even though Glenn’s nearly thirty, he still thinks it’s his job to protect Felix.

Especially from Ingrid’s never-ending teasing.

“She’s dead,” says Sylvain. “Next time I’m within a few feet of her.”

“Not if I kill her first,” says Felix.

Sylvain leans over Felix, shooting Ingrid the finger with both hands. She, naturally, shoots him one right back. “So fucking rude,” says Sylvain, leaning back again and slathering his hands with sunscreen once more. “And the things that she implies. Don’t listen to her.”

Strangely, Felix is quiet. Twiddles his thumbs in his lap. Sylvain watches him for a moment before resuming his requested task, catching the spots of his back that he’s missed.

“Would it be so bad?” asks Felix.

Sylvain’s hands pause. “What?”

“The idea of being with me. Is it such a terrible idea?”

Sylvain laughs because that’s what he does when faced with awkward questions. “Felix, we’re too old for gay jokes and Ingrid knows that. She’s just picking on us because it’s how she asserts dominance.”

Felix doesn’t even scoff which is a red flag, so Sylvain grasps him by the shoulders and looks at him from the side. “Hey, wait, are you worried about dating? I thought it wasn’t something you’re interested in?”

They’ve known each other since they were practically in diapers, so of course, they’ve talked about this: girls and dating. Well, more so Sylvain who always talked at Felix. Felix is relatively tight-lipped about it, even now, into their college years. Always says that he’s just not interested.

Never bothered Sylvain one bit.

“I mean, I know some cute girls--”

“Sylvain, I don’t want to date women.”

Oh. Oh. Sylvain’s mouth shuts tight as he absorbs this information. This puts a lot of things into perspective; Felix’s disinterest in women and how he’d roll his eyes whenever Sylvain would talk about them. His lack of celebrity crushes and such. Felix has just never said it so bluntly.

“Felix, it’s totally cool if you’re gay. I know some cute guys--”

Felix lets out a frustrated groan, rubbing at his face. “Sylvain, I’m not-- that’s not-- That’s not it.”

“Felix, you have to throw me a bone here, what on earth are you talking about--”

“I like you, you absolute imbecile,” says Felix very suddenly. And loudly. Entirely red-faced with embarrassment as he digs a hand into the sand beside him. “And Ingrid’s known for years because Glenn fucking told her, and that’s why she’s been so incredibly insufferable this entire time--”

Sylvain bursts into laughter, which in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best reaction. “Wait, no, no, that’s not why I’m laughing,” he says when Felix starts to pull away. Felix pauses, looking at him with barely contained aggravation.

“This isn’t funny, Sylvain,” he says quietly.

“Ingrid’s making fun of both of us, so yeah, it kind of is.”

Felix blinks very slowly, his face contorting into supreme confusion.

Sylvain sighs, rubbing at his chin awkwardly. “So look, here’s the thing. The shitty dating’s always been to fill a void because I’ve always been afraid to like, date someone properly. No commitment is so much easier than actual commitment and--”

“Sylvain, what on earth are you blabbering about?” cuts in Felix impatiently.

“I like you too?” Sylvain doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding like a question, so he clears his throat and tries again. “What I mean to say is, I’ve always liked you, I guess, but I’ve never really noticed you and--”

When Felix laughs, it’s always a bitter-sounding thing which is why Sylvain never wants to hear it. Means he’s about to lose his shit. This time though, he’s chuckling softly, rubbing at his face tiredly. “Let me guess,” he says quietly, “Ingrid knows.”

Sylvain swallows thickly, sitting there awkwardly with sunscreen-covered hands. “She, uh, might.”

“So, I didn’t have to resort to this, then.”

Sylvain shoots him a confused look. “Resort to what?”

Felix sighs, pink-cheeked with embarrassment again. “Parading around without a shirt on. The whole sunscreen thing. Ingrid’s blasted idea, of course, and now I see why. Glenn agreed, saying you’re the type to be visually stimulated but because I didn’t think that you liked me--”

“Wait, wait, back up,” says Sylvain, trying to process everything that Felix is trying to say. “What do you mean Ingrid’s idea?”

Felix finally looks at Sylvain’s face, annoyed with the entire situation. “She was tired of me not saying anything and told me to do something about it. I said it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t like me but--” He pauses and waves vaguely between them.

“She’s known that I’ve liked you for years,” finishes Sylvain quietly. “Oh, Goddess, I’m going to kill her.”

“Please don’t,” says Felix. “Because then Glenn would kill you and that would mean I’ve made an utter fool of myself for nothing.”

Sylvain looks at the sunscreen again. “Felix, I hope you realize, rubbing you down in this nearly ended me. Like, I won’t be able to move from this towel for at least ten minutes.”

At that, Felix smirks slightly, his mouth tipped up at one corner. “Well, I’m sure there are spots that you’ve missed.”

Sylvain groans at the idea.

“I’m joking,” says Felix quietly, reaching out to touch Sylvain’s shoulder, thumbing over it with uncertainty. “So what--”

“I mean, the answer’s yes, obviously.” Felix looks at him, his face carefully schooled into something bland. Obviously trying not to get his hopes up, so Sylvain continues. “I mean, I didn’t collapse onto Ingrid’s bathroom floor one night, wasted to only say no--”

“You what?”

“Okay, so forget about that--”

“So you were truly serious about liking me?” asks Felix, his voice cracking slightly.

Sylvain’s expression softens. “I mean, it’s never been so clear until today but--”

“Why today, of all days?”

Sylvain’s done a fantastic job of looking at only Felix’s face so far so he finally looks down, eyes sweeping over his chest. Sylvain swallows thickly. “I mean, look at you, you’re--”

“Save it for the women who warm your bed,” says Felix acerbically. He moves to get up properly and Sylvain reaches out to grab his wrist.

“Felix, wait, don’t do that.” Felix does. Waits for him to say his piece. “I’ve always liked you, but it never really clicked that you’re-- uh-- look, there’s no delicate way to say it, so I just will. You’re gorgeous. Handsome. I can’t stop looking at you because you make me feel things, and that’s something that’s just... Ingrid told me to take a fucking picture, Felix.”

Felix snorts at that, hiding a smile behind his hand. Then he plops back down to the sand.

“You realize that I expect to be more than a bed warmer,” says Felix finally, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’d never ask that of you,” says Sylvain, seriously. “Unless you wanted to, because trust me, I’m certainly not opposed--”

Felix reaches forward with lightning-fast speed, pulls open Sylvain’s swim trunks, and dumps a handful of sand directly into them. Sylvain looks down dumbly. Dreads the inevitable itchiness that comes with getting sand in the bits where you don’t want it.

“Okay, yeah, I deserved that.”

Felix hesitates and then says, “Insufferable.”

“Yeah,” says Sylvain in agreement.

“It’s part of your charm.”

Sylvain grins at him. “Oh, my charm? Does that mean that I won you over with my bewitching demeanor?”

Felix’s expression sours the slightest bit. “Don’t push it.”

It falls quiet between them, as they sit on the towel underneath Sylvain’s umbrella, but it’s a comfortable silence. Sylvain rubs the leftover sunscreen into his own shoulders as Felix tries not to stare in return.

“So,” says Sylvain finally. “Dinner on the pier maybe? Without Ingrid and Glenn, I mean.”

“Yes, nothing says fantastic first date like shoveling buttered crawfish into your mouth like a slob.” But Felix’s face is soft and fond when he looks at Sylvain, and Sylvain knows that it’s a date sealed for later that night.

Things are going to be weird, supposes Sylvain, but there are worse things. At least they’ll be figuring it out together.

“Who gets first dibs on dunking ice-cold seawater all over Ingrid?” asks Sylvain.

“I think that I can get Glenn to distract her long enough for you to fill the pail. Or, we can tag team her-- grab her and throw her in the ocean itself.”

That’s a better idea and Sylvain says as such, much to Felix’s entertainment. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” continues Sylvain. “We do owe her some credit.”

Felix snorts. “Are you going to give her the satisfaction of it?”

They both look at each other, then Sylvain says, “Absolutely not.” He pauses, reaching out to Felix, wanting to grab his hand and hold it. But he hesitates.

Felix sees and watches silently. “We’re dumb,” he finally says. “It’s taken us so long. We’re nearly done with college.”

“Yeah, well, late-bloomers and all that.”

“Sylvain, you’re the opposite of a late-bloomer.”

“Not where it counts.”

Felix sighs softly and reaches out, taking Sylvain’s hand, linking their fingers together. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to. He and Sylvain have always been like that; silent in most of their communication because they just read each other so well.

Except for when it comes to their wants, apparently.

Still, better late than never supposes Sylvain when he squeezes Felix’s hand back.

#sylvain/felix #felix/sylvain #felix x sylvain #fe3h fanfiction #sylvix #fe3h

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years

Text

Sweet Pea//no matter what gets in my way

Request: May I please request a Sweet Pea x female reader that’s based off of the song ‘Come for You’ by Nickelback?

hey! before i start chatting at you all, just wanted to let you know about any trigger warnings, so: there’s mentions of therapy, childhood trauma (not in detail, its mainly sweet pea talking about growing up on the southside), emotions and a car accident (near the end) i hope you enjoy!!! have a great day/night!! also the plot of this is completely different to the meaning of the song/music video. just thought i’d let you know!

“This is quite possibly the stupidest thing I have ever been told to do. And I used to take orders from Jones on a daily basis.” Sweet Pea huffs, flopping onto your bed. A pout takes over his appearance as he stares up at the stars decorating the ceiling and you send him a sympathetic smile, despite the fact that he isn’t paying attention to you.

“I don’t think its that bad.” You drop your bag on the floor and lie next to him, nudging him with your elbow. He looks at you, the frown on his face somehow worsening, but when you smile at him, it flickers for just a second, the corners of his lips curling up a little.

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. You’ve been through a lot. There’s a lot of trauma tucked up in that big head of yours, and if your therapist thinks that you should maybe write down how you’re feeling, then maybe its worth a shot.” You shrug, not tearing your gaze away from the ceiling and he stares at you for a few seconds. His eyebrows furrow as he thinks about what you said. Maybe you were right?

Thats stupid, you’re always right.

“Why do you always have to be the logical one?” He huffs and you smile, turning on your side to face him. Stray hairs fall in front of your face and he tucks them behind your ear almost as soon as they fall.

“Because when I’m friends with you, someone has to be.”

“Yeah, fair.” The two of you laugh before a peaceful silence falls over the room. The sounds of traffic coming from the street below drifts through your open window and it makes Sweet Pea sit up quickly.

“I thought I said, don’t leave your window open when we’re out.”

“I forgot.” You roll your eyes, now joining him in staring out the window. A soft breeze causes the curtains to move gently and the sunlight streams in, casting your room in a golden glow.

“You won’t forget when we’re robbed.”

“We’re not gonna get robbed.” You huff and start to unpack your bag.

“Sure we’re not. This is New York City we’re talking about.” He watches you move around your small room, and he smiles to himself. It seems like the light follows you around, casting you in a constant shimmer.

“We’ve lived for two years and we haven’t been robbe-”

“Finish that sentence...I dare you.” He cuts you off, sending you a glare to which you just roll your eyes at. Sweet Pea is as threatening as a puppy to you and he knows it. But it doesn’t stop him from pulling his ridiculously adorable faces when he tries to be scary.

“Aww, you’re so cute.” You pat his head and his scowl falls into a pout. “See, adorable.” You pinch his cheek making him bat your hand away.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.” You smile sweetly at him.

“I’m going to my room.” He huffs, clearly annoyed at how unaffected by him you are and his reaction only makes your smile widen.

“Are you going to write about your crush in your diary? Don’t worry I won’t peek.” You tease and he grumbles to himself while walking out. He’s just about to slam your door closed when you call after him again making him stop.

“Yeah?”

“I am really proud of you, you know?” You tell him honestly and his expression softens, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he looks down at the scuffed floor.

“For what?” He asks once he finally recovers from the unexpected compliment. To be honest, he doesn’t know what he expected. You always make sure to say something nice to him at least once a day, and he always tries to return the favour.

He’s just not as good as expressing his feelings as you. Thats probably another things he needs to discuss at his next session. But now he feels a little less stupid for writing in a diary if it means he gets better at talking to you.

“For how far you’ve come. When we were in High School you never would have thought about any of this stuff. But you are and I think thats great. So, as your best friend and number one supporter, I am so incredibly proud of you. So much so, that I got you a present.” You quickly run towards your dresser, digging through the top drawer before pulling out a wrapped present with a little bow on it.

He smiles as he takes it from you, looking at you one last time before quickly unwrapping it. “Whats this?”

“A notebook.” You reply teasingly and he rolls his eyes at you.

You’d bought it a few weeks ago because it had reminded you of Sweet Pea. You’d been waiting to use it, but when Sweet Pea had told you about what his therapist said, you realized that he would have much more important things to write in it than whatever you would eventually come up with.

“I mean, whats on it?”

“Ohh. Its a Sweet Pea. Seriously? Its your name and you don’t even know what they look like. You’ve gone through twenty years of your life and not even googled it once?”

“First of all, you know Sweet Pea isn’t actually my name. It’s-”

“Yes, yes. I know what you’re name is. I have been your friend for the past twenty years.” You interrupt, waving your arm at him and he grabs it, pushing it away from him. The two of you play fight for a few minutes before you eventually give in and he finally lets you out of the headlock he had you in.

You huff, smoothing your hair out and he chuckles, ruffling it back up when you’ve finished.

“I hate you.” You hit his arm and he feigns hurt. “We’ve been friends-

“Not long enough.” He interrupts, a bright grin on his face.

“Too long.” You grumble.

“Shut up.”

“Get out.”

“Gladly.” He smiles sarcastically and you flip him off.

“I am really proud of you though...seriously.” You say, and he stops in the doorway. He clutches the notebook to his chest and he glances at it, a soft smile on his face before turning around to face you, the usual smirk appearing.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go on about it.”

You just shake your head at him making him chuckles before actually leaving, still slamming the door behind him. Once he’s sat down, he reluctantly places the notebook on his bed, the pale pink flowers stand out against the light blue background and he takes a deep breath, grabbing a pen from his nightstand before opening the cover.

The pen hovers over the blank page. What the hell is he supposed to write about? His trauma? His feelings? And is so, what trauma? Which feelings? This was a stupid idea. But the he remembers how proud you were of him, and he looks at the cover of the book one last time, deciding that maybe this is something he needs to do. No matter how scary it feels. Plus, he’s done far worse things...a pen and a piece of paper can’t hurt him.

Dear Diary,

God, how old do I sound? Anyway, dear stupid diary? Well, now I sound even more ridiculous. My actual therapist and my unofficial therapist (y/n, remember her because she’s going to be mentioned a lot) recommended that i write how I feel down.

I don’t have to show anyone if I don’t want to and I don’t evem even have to read it myself. But apparently its supposed to help, so I suppose I’ll give it a go. Dr Smith told me that a good place to start is to write down why I think I’m in therapy. And to that I told her that there wasn’t a big enough notebook in the world. I suppose I’ll just have to write in tiny letters to cram everything in here because I want to keep this notebook for as long as possible. So time to be honest?

When you grew grow up on the southside, you learn to grow up a lot quicker than you should. You see a lot of shit that even adults shouldn’t be witnessing, let alone kids. Its like you’re always waiting for the clouds to lift from the darkness of the life you lead, but they never do. And by the time you get to like, 11, you’re more like a soldier than a kid. I’ve known how to fight for as long as I remember and I remember back then, before me and Y/n moved to New York, I felt like I was constantly a little wounded. I needed time to heal, but in Riverdale, on the southside, there is no time.

Oh, by the way Y/n is my best friend. We’ve been neighbors since we were born and we’ve been practically inseparable. Whatever memories I have of my life, good and bad, she’s always in them. And when we were younger we made a pact that when we gradated, we would leave Riverdale as soon as possible and go somewhere completely different. So we worked (some jobs more legal than others), and we saved up as much money as possible to get an apartment. That was two years ago and we still live in the same shitty apartment, but now its just more out of comfort than anything else. We like it here and we have some great memories here, so even though we probably could get a nicer place, we probably won’t.

Anyway. I try not to dwell on the past. I don’t succeed though. I suppose during school I had to just keep up appearance. I was in a gang, still am technically and I love the serpents. But its not the best environment to be around. Y/n is always talking about self love and stuff like that and to be honest, I always thought it was kind of just a girl thing. But then I went on twitter and learnt what toxic masculinity is, and with the help of Y/n, Toni and Fangs, I realized that its okay to feel the way I do. Its completely normal and I should get help for it. Which is now why I’m doing this.

So yeah, thats it. I mean thats not it, it. But you know what i mean. Well I suppose you don’t, you’re an inanimate object but whatever. Now how do I end this.

Bye? Bye

To his surprise, he actually feels a little bit better. Maybe this won’t be too bad. And maybe in a little bit, he’ll feel confident enough to show people. Who knows? Maybe writing is something he could actually be good at.

----

“You’re an ass.” You shout from your bed. What had started off as a good day has ended in the worst possible way.

You honestly don’t know how you got here. One minute you and Sweet Pea are talking about what to make for dinner, and the next thing, you’re screaming and shouting at each other while simultaneously pissing the neighbours off.

“I know!” He spits back and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Get out.” There’s no playfulness in your voice, not like usual. Its just filled with spite and it makes him feel a little sick. There’s only one other time that you’ve talked to him like that, and it was when he called your boyfriend at the time an self-centered dick. He wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the point.

You stopped talking to him for a week after that, but when he turned up at your trailer with flowers and Pop’s takeout, you forgave him instantly. Hugging him tightly and spending the rest of the night watching movies.

But now, neither of you know how you’ve ended up here so he doesn’t know how to make it up to you. So he does the next best thing.

“Gladly.” He scowls, slamming the door behind him. He hears a soft thud and knows instantly that you’ve thrown a cushion at him. “Real immature Y/n.”

“Get fucked.” You shout back and he huffs loudly before slamming his own door shut.

The bed shakes as he throws himself down on it and he burrows his face into the grey pillow. His hand reaches underneath it and his fingers brush against something cold. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he pulls it out and all the anger that he was feeling disappears.

The blue catches his eye first, and then the green of the stem and then finally the pale, delicate petals. He hadn’t even thought of the notebook since he finished writing in it the first time. He sighs, his fingers tracing over the pattern, and he squeezes his eyes closed. His head drops back onto the pillow, not even bothering to move the diary from underneath his face and he moves his hand over to the cluttered night stand to find a pen.

Dear Diary

Hey, so I know I’m supposed to be talking about my feelings and my trauma and shit and i know I kind of forgot about you, but life got in the way and I don’t have time to write down all my stupid emotions in a arguably very pretty book.

Anyway. I fucked up. I upset Y/n and I don’t know how to make it better because I honestly don’t know how we started arguing in the first place. We’ve only ever had one huge argument like this, and after a week it ended. But this time it feels different. This time my chest is aching and my head is hurting. I have this weird feeling in my stomach and I really don’t know what to do. I figured if you’re supposed to be helping me...then help me.

I think she thinks I don’t care. That I’ve just dropped our friendship, and everything that comes along with it on the ground and then stomped on it over and over again.

So, who knows what I’m going to do. I think saying sorry might be the best place to start.

Hey, look at that. You did help...thanks I suppose.

Bye.

Sweet Pea doesn’t even bother closing the book, he just drops the pen in the middle of it and jumps up, kicking his leg out of the unmade duvet and stumbling out the door.

He hesitates outside of your room, wondering the best way to go around it. Should he just walk in like he usually does? Or should he knock?

“Y/n?”

“...what?” You sniffle and he looks at the floor, unsure of what to say next.

“Can I er-Can I come in?”

“That depends.”

“On?” He wonders.

“If you’re still gonna be an ass.” He can tell by just the tone of your voice that you’re a little less pissed than you were ten minutes, but only by a little bit. Like 5%, and he lets out a small chuckle before opening the door.

You’re sat on you bed, your legs tucked into your chest and when the door opens you send him a glare before dramatically looking in the opposite direction. He rolls his eyes but sits opposite you anyway.

“I’m sorry okay.”

Silence.

“Please Y/n.”

Still silence.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry I was being an ass. I don’t even know what we were arguing about and it kinda just snowballed into one big fight. But if it makes you feel any better, the ten minutes I spent in my room I missed you. Like that JLS song, every seconds like an hour or something like that. Anyway the point is, I’m sorry and I missed you so much that I even wrote in my stupid diary. So there’s that. Now please can you forgive me because I hate fighting with you, you’re like the only person I don’t like fighting with...and I’ll buy us takeout to make up for it.”

“1. Its ‘every minute’s like an hour, every hour’s like a da-’

“I don’t need a full rendition.”

“And 2. You’re diary is not stupid and even though I also don’t like fighting with you either, I’m glad you wrote in it again...so yes, you’re forgiven. And I’m sorry too. I was also arguing with you.” You mumble reluctantly, trying to hide a smile and he smirks, poking at your cheeks teasingly. “Leave me alone.” You grumble, swatting his hand away.

“So, are we friends again?” He asks, his heart suddenly starts pounding, but you punching him in the arm distracts him from whatever medical problem he is currently experiencing.

“Yeah...dingus.”

“Aww, I love you too.” For some reason, both of you feel a blush spreading up your necks after he speaks and the two of you look away for a few seconds.

“So.” You break the slightly awkward tension. In the twenty years of friendship, you have literally never experienced any kind of awkwardness, but that was weird, for some reason those four specific words had some sort of effect on you both, and now you’re not entirely sure what to do. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Oh, I er. I dunno.” He shrugs. “Whatever you want...my treat.”

“Yeah, it better be.” You try to joke but it doesn’t really work. Instead the room feels weird. There seems to be some sort of tension lingering, but its not anger...so who knows what it is? All you know is that you need to both leave.

So you stand. Unfortunately he does the same and the two of you end up bumping into each other. His hands reach out to steady you, grabbing your shoulders and the two of you laugh, although its more forced than anything.

“I’m gonna go check the menu on the fridge”

“I need to pee.” He says at the same time.

“Oh.” You say, slightly surprised and he mentally curses himself. But he really doesn’t know why. He’s told you a lot worse about his bodily functions, and every time you also mutter a small ‘gross’, followed by a laugh. But this just feels icky. “Okay.”

He gestures for you to leave first, and you do gladly. That whole encounter was weird and you vow never to argue with him again if it makes you feel like that. All strange and awkward and unsure what to do with yourself while trying to calm your heartbeat down.

---

Dear...should I give you a name or is that weird? What could I call you? Who the hell knows? I’ll come back to that later. I’m feeling better. I think writing is this is actually working. Its only been two months, but I’m actually becoming a lot better at talking about my feelings and shit. Its like I was blindfolded (kinky) to being able to feel, but now I’m seeing. Talking is great! I’m still a little wary about talking about myself to just anyone, lets be real, anyone can be a snitch, or from another gang.

But I think I’m better at communicating my thoughts and emotions with the people I love like the most. I feel like before I was very close minded, not in like the usual way...because if you know me personally I’m very vocal about human rights and stuff...thats not the point. But I was very closed minded about my own emotions and how to deal with them. But now, thanks to Dr Smith and Y/n, I’m actually starting to believe in myself. Maybe this is how Y/n see’s me. Huh...she must think I’m great.

I know what it means to let someone in and I think I kind of like it. But that’s also where I have one small issue.

I know that I’m supposed to talk about my trauma and shit, but I’ve been doing this for like two months so I think I’m good now. Well, not good. But I need to talk about something else thats much more important than whatever is happening in my brain.

Its Y/n.

Now usually, if I had any issues involving her, I would talk to Toni and Fangs, but they just involved birthday presents and who is that dickwad talking her on a date? But I can’t talk to anyone about this problem, because I know exactly what Toni and Fangs will say. They’ll say its because we’re in love...we’re not.

Its just, ever since our fight. Things have been weird around here. We can barely be in the same room as one another for more than five minutes without one or both of us saying something incredibly stupid. And usually, I’m fine with losing friends, its just part of life. But I don’t want to lose her. I’ve been losing sleep over this. Every time I think about her not being here, my palms get sweaty and there’s like a heavy weight on my chest. It sucks.

Y/n has organized a movie night for us tonight. I think she can feel the tension too and I think its driving her just as mad. She always seems so unsure around me now, and despite how hard she tries, she is terrible at trying to hide it.

I don’t really know what to do and I know you can’t reply unless you’re something from Harry Potter, but I just thought if I wrote it down, I might get some ideas.

Spoilers...I didn’t.

“Sweet Pea!” You’re yelling makes him jump and slam the book closed, despite you being nowhere near him.

“Coming!” He replies, quickly scribbling the end of his stream of thoughts before closing the book again and throwing in under his bed.

Gotta go...byeeeee

“Hey.” You’re already sat on the sofa by the time he leaves his room. The film is set up, waiting for one of you to press play and two pizza’s are sat on the coffee table.

He smiles as he sits down on the other end of the couch, remembering all the other movie nights you guys have had. He enjoyed the ones back home when it was all four of you. But some of his favourites have been with just you. The film is usually forgotten about half way through, and you just spend the rest of the night talking and laughing and playing stupid games, before falling asleep on top of each other at like 5am.

But as he looks over at you, staring straight at the tv, his chest aches. Usually you would end up sitting as close to each other as possible, but now, you’re both sat as far away as you can be.

He can’t remember the last time you laughed at something he said, or you told him a stupid story from work. It feels like you’re just two strangers living as roommates instead of two best friends.

“Do you want me to press play?” You wonder and he nods. The opening titles play, casting the room in a soft glow and Sweet Pea watches you silently while shadows flicker across your face. “What?” You say suddenly, locking eyes with him.

“I-er. Nothing.” He stumbles and you send him a look.

“Okay.” You reply. You don’t believe him, but you give him the benefit of the doubt anyway, and start watching the film again.

You really don’t know what you were expecting to get from this night but you have a feeling you’re not going to get it. Things have been awkward for over a month now. And its the worst. You feel a little lost without him to be honest. You used to spend all your time together, but now you can’t remember the last time you spent more than five minutes together without one of you making up some excuse to leave.

You miss him, and you miss how you used to be and you have no idea how to get back to the point...if you can.

Its the first time in twenty years that you’ve actually seen a film all the way through. And its torture. The closing credits play, and you stretch before standing.

“Do you want anything?” You look down and him but he just shrugs before unlocking his phone.

“Hey, if you ever get lost in the middle of the woods with a creepy ghost lady trying to track you down and tear you limb from limb. I’d search forever for you and then I’d bring you home...possessed or not.” You stop on your way to the kitchen, a small smile appearing on your face as you see a flicker of how you used to be.

”Awww...you’re so sweet.” You smile sweetly at him and he feels a blush creep up his cheeks, although, he’s not really sure why.

“I know.” He says smugly making you roll your eyes.

Its silent. So very silent.

What do people say to each other?

How do you have a conversation?

“Well, goodnight.” You both say at the same time. You quickly shut your bedroom door behind you and Sweet Pea goes to his room. You slide down the door, your head falling into your hands while you squeeze your eyes shut.

He does the same in his own room and both of you wonder the same thing

what the hell happened?

----

List of diary names:

- Doris

- Petunia

- Harry

- Louis

- Liam

- Niall

- Z

Wait, hold on a minute somebody’s calling me. Who calls anymore? And why am I telling you this, you’re a diary? Whatever...oh shit, I’m gonna mis

“Hello?” He answers lazily, barely pulling his attention from the tv playing some cheesy sitcom. His notebook lies closed on his lap, and his fingers trace over the pattern as he waits for a reply.

“Hello. Is this a, er...Sweet Pea?” A woman asks, there’s a hint of confusion in her tone and he rolls his eyes.

“Yep.”

“Hi. This is Dr Floyd from the New York City Hospital. You’re listed as Y/n Y/l/n’s emergency contact.” He sits up quickly, almost dropping the phone and his eyes widen. The TV, his diary, the rest of the world is completely forgotten.

“Is she okay?” He swears he can heart his heartbeat in his ears while he waits for a reply.

The Dr takes far too long to respond. The few seconds seem to drag on for days while he waits to hear if you’re okay. Its already felt like you’re not around anymore, but what if you are really not going to be hear anymore.

He doesn’t even want to think about that, his chest tightening and he has to hold back a sob.

“She has been brought in after a car collision. She was crossing the street when a car hit her. I just want-”

“I’m on my way.” He’s already replied and hung up before she can finish her sentence, grabbing his keys and jacket before running out the front door.

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast or so far and by the time he makes it to the hospital, he’s sure he looks like he should be in one of the wards. But it doesn’t matter when he finds you. Your eyes are closed and you look so peaceful in your bed.

The room is a bright white, with faded green furniture that hasn’t been updated since the 70′s are dotted across the room. A blanket covering your body, a green chair with an awful pattern by your bedside, green curtains that are more sun damage than fabric.

“Shit? Are you dead.” He mumbles, more to himself than to you as he cautiously walks through the door.

“Nah, just lying down. Whats up?” You ask, opening an eye to look at him.

“Whats up? Seriously I have just ran to the hospital because I got a call saying you’d been hit by a car. And you ask me whats up?” He huffs, sitting in the chair.

“Yeah...so whats up?”

“Nothing much.” He shrugs before realizing where he is again. “Actually a lot is up. You’re body in the air is whats up from what I heard.”

“You are so dramatic. You always have been. Its just a mild concussion and a few cuts and bruises. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure.” He looks you up and down, his eyes scanning every part of you, looking out for something the doctors might of missed. When he’s sure you’re okay, he lets his gaze rest on your scratched and bruised face and he lets out a deep sigh.

Despite the bruises blooming on your cheeks, you still look as pretty as usual and his eyes widen as that thought dawns on him.

“What? Are you okay?” You ask, now worried as you try and sit up, but he’s quickly pushing you back down.

“I er. I’m fine.” He stutters. “I think I just realized something.” He admits, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks while he looks at the scratchy blanket covering you...shit.

“Pea?” You ask, your voice quiet. He’s never heard you so unsure of something before. Almost like you’re scared to know the answer to your question. “Are we okay now?”

“What do you mean?” He forces the words out. He knows exactly what you mean. But now he thinks he’s figured out what’s been wrong the whole time. You may have been scared to hear the answer to your question, but he is absolutely terrified to answer it himself.

Its been so obvious but he’s been so oblivious. Toni and Fangs were right. Or at least half right. He’s in love with you. And that makes his heart race, but for good or bad reasons, he doesn’t know.

“Its just. When I saw that car I thought I was going to die. And I remembered us and how we aren’t as close as we were and I realized, that if I was going to die, my biggest regret would be not making things with us right again. I don’t know whats happened over these past few months that have made us not know how to act like human beings around each other. But I know I want it to stop. I miss you Pea. And I don’t ever want to feel that alone ever again...in my bedroom or by the side of the road.” You admit, your eyes trained on the blanket while your fingers play with the frayed edges.

He slumps in the chair, letting out a long breath while your words settle in.

“Did you really think you were going to die?” He asks after a few seconds and you look at him surprised.

“Yeah. One minute I’m crossing an empty road and then all I heard was a high pitched screech and then this car was coming towards me.” You say shakily and he grabs your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “The thing is though. For a spilt second I made eye contact withe the driver and she looked almost as scared as I did.” You laugh humorously and he sends you a sympathetic smile. “When I was lying on the pavement. I was looking up at everyone panicking around me, and all I thought about was you and how you weren’t there. And how if I died, I never would have got to say goo-” You’re cut off by your own sobs and he quickly wraps his arms around you. His chin resting on your head while he cries his own silent tears.

“Its okay.” He whispers. “You’re okay now. We’re okay.”

“I’m glad.” You give him a teary smile once he lets go, and you notice him wiping his own tears away. You grab his hand again and squeeze it reassuringly. The gesture makes his cheeks heat up a little and he has to look away for a little bit until they go back to normal. “Hey.” You start, wanting to distract the two of you. “How many cars do you think you could take on?”

“Me?” He raises an eyebrow. “A solid ten. If not more. And I’d fight any that tried to get to you too.”

“You’re so sweet.” You giggle.

“I know.” He smirks.

“I keep meaning to ask, how’s your diary going? Have you doodled your crushes name in hearts yet?” You tease making him roll his eyes.

“Shut up.” He mumbles.

“Hmm...nah.”

“Its going good. I’m kinda worried though.”

“About?” You wonder.

“What if I’m too good at expressing my emotions.” He asks seriously and you have to stifle a laugh.

“How can you be too good at that?”

“I could just constantly tell people what I’m feeling. Or, I could use really big, fancy words to emote...see, I did it then. And then I just come off as pretentious.” He rambles and it takes everything in your power to keep a straight face.

“Yeah, I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Oh yeah? Try this.” He clears his throat. “Y/n. I’d crawl across this world for you.” He tries to say it seriously, but the two of you end up laughing loudly, and he thinks to himself that maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe he can keep being your friend, even if he is in love with you. Plus, he’d rather keep being your friend and just admire you afar, than lose you forever. “I’m in love with you.” He blurts out and his eyes widen.

“What?” You look at him, your expression mirroring his and he quickly starts backtracking.

“I mean. I love you as a friend. I’m not in love with you. That would be ridiculous. Sorry.”

“Is that why everything has been so weird between us?” You ask and he nods slowly.

“I think so. But I’ve only just actually realized like ten minutes ago.”

“Thats okay.” You laugh. “I only realized when I was lying on the ground wishing to see your face.”

“You mean...you love me too?”

“I think so.” You nod. “Although, it could just be the concussion.” You shrug and he punches your arm lightly.

“I’ll take take.” He smiles. “So, when you’re feeling better, do you want to have a movie and pizza night, but like, as a date?”

“I’d love to.” You beam, and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Hey Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I have so much to write in Harry!”

“Who the hell is Harry?”

“...my diary.”

“...okay?”

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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alexiaugustin · 4 years

Note

waittttt. whats with Maxence that you didn't like??? 😯😯

but what things did maxence have done ???. since nobody calls him out on things you mentions, i actually don't know that problematic stuff he says or done.. and also, i see only good things are about him on ig and twitter so i really dont know 😅... sorry of this question 🙏

Okay so before anyone tells me that I said that I hate Maxence or some shit- I couldn't care less about what actors do in their private lives and I don't think that everything he ever said or did publicly was a bad thing but there were a lot of rly problematic things he said and did publicly and that's all I'm talking about here.

First of all at one of those dreamit cons he said that he would like to play a trans women in a movie/tv show once and that he even auditioned but didn't get the role because his face was too masculine. When fans later called him out for that more or less transphobic statement he never showed any kind of reaction and never apologized even tho especially trans fans were rly upset and tried to educate him on that matter.

Then there is this interview where he says "I already got messages saying 'you're not gay you can't play this role' I find it too bad that someone thinks a gay character has to be played by a gay person. Actually I think it goes against the message the LGBT community wants to give. It's very sane and important to give that freedom of speech around this, that straight people can defend this battle too and can take roles for homosexual, trans, bi characters" I get what he was trying to say here but he definitely did it the wrong way because being upset about lgbt ppl being upset about there not being more lgbt actors playing lgbt roles and even telling them that they are going against the message of the community that they are a part of and he is not really just ain't it. And again he's saying that cishets can play trans characters which is....ignorant.

Then there was this whole red bubble thing where he was freaking out about the tshirts with fanart of him on them. And like, I get it, I really do and it's completely okay to be angry about shit like that but "a part of me just wants to murder that motherfucker" and "those tshirts are ugly as fuck" ??? he's 26 im sorry but this is just not how you talk to your (mostly) younger audience on social media and it was super aggressive and not funny nor "badass" at all

The most recent and probably worst thing was his reaction to the blm movement. Both he and axel stayed silent about it for days and when fans were asking him to post donation and petition links he was angry about that for some reason?? And a few days later he posted that story

translation: "I hope that every person that has been annoying the shit out of me for a week, telling me what to do on social media will be there at 19h*. It's cute to hashtag, to copy-paste and to impose oneself as the dictator of ethic and good conscious, it's another thing to act. See you tonight"

*a blm protest he attended

Again he was super condescending and worded all of this super agressive. He is a white privileged grown up man who chose to stay silent for days and after all his silence and the reactions he got from that he spent more of his time on his insta story where he was shaming people who couldn't go to protest instead of reposting more links to donations, petitions and information. Can you believe that he really went out and said "I know I haven't done shit to raise awareness so far and for some reason all of u are so mean to me now. But I hope that y'all know that no matter if you don't have the possibility to attend a protest, aren't allowed to attend a protest or can't because of ur health condition (we're still in a global pandemic) U are the bad person and all the efforts you've made on the internet are worth noting" that's literally what he just said. People are suffering and dying just because of their skin colour and he has the nerve to play the victim in all of this. It was arrogant, condescending and his white privilege couldn't have jumped out more. He never apologized or acknowledged that either.

And here's another anon I got about this

here's the video. And yeah exactly anon like I know that it was just a game and there to be fun but Robin tried to seriously educate him right in that moment and he just... didn't care at all.

And that's what actually makes him so problematic. Because he never learns from his mistakes and can't ever acknowledges that he might have made a mistake but tries to defend himself until the very end, makes things about himself when they absolutely aren't and can't just ever shut up when ppl are taking their time to educate him. He not even once apologized for one of the things he did and that already says a lot I guess🙄

#ask #viv rantsz #maxence danet fauvel

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cloudykaii · 4 years

Text

Matter

pairing: jung hoseok x sister!reader [PLATONIC]

summary: Hello, can I request a brother!hoseok imagine where like once bts rly took off he starts ignoring his little sister (reader) and the other boys gradually do as well so she tries to contact them and they hint that she’s annoying and they don’t want to see her... (if ur comfortable), reader going through depression and maybe self harming I know it’s hard but maybe fluffy ending ? Sorry this request is so loaded LOL

warnings: mentions of regrets, cursing, overuse of commas, neglect, bad brothers

The worst part of it all, is that at first you thought he would never do something like that. Not Hoseok, your older brother and you looked up to your entire life. You just didn’t think he had it in him. After he watched over you,and protected you for years growing up. you never actually thought that your brother and best friend would be the one to do something like this.

Your friends saw it coming, which somehow made it worse. Every time you’d call him only to get his voicemail, or your texts would get left on read for weeks, and when he finally did answer, he’d give you generic replies. Every time your friends would say he forgot about you, but you would defend him saying he was busy, and even if he wasn’t the boys were like a family to him, so he was probably just relaxing with them. You defended him every time.

But now you were wondering if it was ever worth it. Your friends had tried to tell you to stop trying to get in touch with you brother, because it only ever ended up with you being sad and him having the time of his life across the globe. You didn’t contact him this time, though. You thought he had called you. When the phone rang, and Hoseok’s name flashed across the screen, you answered immediately. “Hobi, you finally-”

But the sounds you got in return were less than desired.

“Why do you look so upset? Y/N’s not calling you again, is she?”

You weren’t able to recognize who the muffled voice belonged to, but you heard the words enough. Did you really bother him that much? You heard chuckles on the other end of the line.

“No, I told her last night I didn’t have time to talk to her. She didn’t need to know that it was because she gets on my nerves.”

You heard more laughs, bringing tears to your eyes. All you had wanted to do was talk to your brother. It wasn’t like you had unrealistic expectations. Did you? Were you really in the wrong for wanting to have a conversation with your brother?

“Well, that’s for sure. It’s like every time you sit down, her name is on the screen. Doesn’t she know when to stop?”

Your friend gently took the phone from your hand, which was good because you didn’t think you would be able to hear any more. “You’re a fucking asshole, Jung Hoseok,” you heard her hiss into the phone just before hanging up. She tossed the phone onto your bed, and looked at you with sympathy.

“Oh, honey,” she pulled you into her arms, sitting on your bed beside you so she could comfort you. “He’s an asshole.”

“He’s supposed to be my older brother,” you whispered. “I just wanted to talk to him. He used to be there for everything, like I’m there for him. Why is it that now that he’s famous, he’s a whole new person?”

Your friend winced. She had a decently healthy relationship with her family; she had no idea what she should do. “I don’t know, Y/N,” she tried to soothe you as you started crying.

Your brother on the other hand, found himself waking up to sharp knocking on his door. “I’m coming,” he called sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he crawled out from under the blankets and made his way to his front door. “Dawon? What are you doing here?”

His older sister stormed past him inside his apartment, and turned to face him with the harshest glare he’d ever seen. “What is the matter with you? Genuinely, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He frowned. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Dawon crossed her arms. “Knowing that you made your baby sister think she wasn’t good enough doesn’t affect you at all? You’re fine knowing what you did?”

Hoseok frowned. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to Y/N.”

The laugh that left her was sarcastic. “You are honestly such an asshole. You ignored her for weeks, and then you had the nerve to call her annoying?! I went to go check on her this morning because I hadn’t heard from her in a couple days, and she’s been so stressed out with college, I was worried she hadn’t been eating again. I bet you didn’t even know that happened the first time, did you? Probably not, since Y/N didn’t even know you were in the country. Guess what I found when I got there? I was greeted by her roommate telling me Y/N had cried herself to sleep because you accidentally called her and she had to hear exactly what you think of her.”

His eyes widened. “No, wait, it’s not what it-”

His sister glowered at him. “She has been defending you this entire time. You will talk to me, or anyone else, but Y/N, and she hasn’t said a bad thing about you, yet. She looked up to you for years, and for some reason she still does. She thinks she’s a bad sister, and blocked you so that she couldn’t be a distraction to you, anymore. I have never seen my sister like this,” her voice broke, and Hoseok felt like the worst person in the world. “Fix this,” she pointed at him. “Fix this before we lose our sister.”

And then she left, slamming his door, and leaving her brother to stare at the ground and wonder just what the hell he had done. He didn’t know you had been overwhelmed by college. Had it really been that long since he had had an actual conversation with you? God, he fucked up.

He had no idea how he was supposed to fix this, but he still found himself knocking on your door, and hoping he had the right place. He didn’t even know where you lived...

You opened the door, frowning, but you gasped when you saw him standing there. You grabbed his forearm and yanked him inside. “What are you doing here? You guys just released statements about fans following you and you show up at a college unannounced? What is the matter with you?”

Somehow, those words hurt more when they came from a place of caring within you. He grimaced as he shut the door. “Y/N, we need to talk.”

You chewed your lower lip. “If this is about what I heard the other day, don’t worry about it. i get it. You were probably stressed or something.”

You still managed to defend him, and the smile on your face broke his heart. “I wasn’t exactly busy..”

You brushed it off. “It’s cool. I shouldn’t be trying to talk to you so often. That’s got to be distracting. Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

Your brother ran a hand through his hair. “No, Y/N, that’s not it! I’m not too busy to talk to you, I’m just an asshole!”

“You’re not-”

“But I am,” he finally exploded. “I’m the worst brother in the world, and you’re easily the best sister, and I don’t deserve to have you as mine. I didn’t even know where you lived! I didn’t know that you got accepted to college! I promised that nothing would change, and I would always be there for you, even when we got big, and I didn’t keep that promise and I’m sorry.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say as you wiped your face. When did you even start crying? “Hoseok, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“This time,” he muttered, still looking right at you, “But there won’t be a next time. I don’t know how many times you called me because you needed your brother, but I’ll be here now,” he said, nodding his head as if it helped make his statement final.

You couldn’t help but shake your head. “That sounds great, but I heard what you said. You don’t actually want that.”

It was his turn to shake his head as he violently disagreed with you. “No. You’re not annoying and you don’t get on my nerves, Y/N. I was just being an idiot. I promise, I’ll be your big brother again. I don’t want to lose my sister because I made a mistake.”

You sighed, moving closer to hug him. “You won’t. But I can’t keep getting updates about you on twitter because you won’t answer my texts.”

He reassured you once again that he would be a better brother, and you smiled. This was all you wanted, just your older brother back. Now that you had him, it felt like nothing could go wrong.

“Okay, so tell me what all I’ve missed out on.”

“So there’s this one bitch in my class...”

#bts #aimee grace writes #bts imagine #bts x reader #jhope #jhope x reader #jhope imagine #jung hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok imagine #hoseok #kpop

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1010

survey from diggitydoo

Have you ever felt a baby kick? Yes, when my mom was pregnant with my brother. What color pants/shorts are you wearing? I’m only wearing a duster gown; no shorts underneath. I just got it last night, actually - my mom wanted to donate clothes to victims of a recent fire incident in Manila and so she asked my sister and I to sort through our closets for clothes we were willing to give away. My sister ended up giving away a comfy-looking duster gown that she never even wore and even smelled brand new to boot. It ended up in my hands, ha. But apart from that we gave away a lot of stuff that aren’t old uniforms or costumes (which is what most people tend to ‘donate’, ugh), so we just hope they end up with people who really need them. When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Last night I went on our org’s Discord server and we played Jackbox games for around an hour or so. It was my first time to socialize again after around two months and I really, really needed that moment. I even met the org’s newest roster of applicants for this semester, which was neat. :) What was the scariest moment of your life? Men terrorizing me or near-car crashes I’ve had.

Have you ever heard of Leonard Cohen? The name is familiar, but that’s the most I know.

Pancakes or flapjacks? I guess pancakes, since I don’t even know what flapjacks are. What kind of computer are you on? It’s a laptop. Do you eat Chinese food? If so, what's your favorite dish? For sure. Pork buns or minced pork with eggplant. With century egg on the side, yum. What are you usually doing at midnight? Either passed out or desperately trying to sleep because I don’t want to lose any more hours of sleep and risk being cranky for the whole of the next day. Have you ever developed feelings for a friend, but you were already with someone? No. The worst thing that’s happened was being someone’s ball date (and unbeknownst to me, they apparently had feelings for me at the time) while I was already with someone. If so, how did it turn out? He figured it out by himself, which I still feel bad about. But the timing was super off and I just couldn’t find a moment to sit him down and set the record straight...ah well. It was just super complicated at the time. Give me your brief definition of love. My favorite love-related quote is “Love never says ‘I have done enough’” and for the longest time, that has been my guiding principle when it comes to it. Definitely a tad bit cheesy, but telling myself that over and over makes it easier to continue loving the people I care for and be patient with them when they’re being asses. Gab included, then and now. What is the most beautiful part of the human body, male or female? It differs for everyone but I’m a thigh girl through and through. What kind of shoes do you wear? Uh...various ones? I have sneakers, flats, heels, flip-flops, probably a couple more kinds that I can’t place at the moment. What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Resorting to physical violence. I was a kid constantly exposed to violence in my old home, and at the time I genuinely thought that’s how most things were settled or pacified. I still feel like shit about it to this day, and my backstory isn’t an excuse at all; but the past is the past and I’ve been trying to make up for it by being a much more gentle angry person in the last few years. Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? Nope. Do you like the smell of coconuts? For some reason I can’t stand anything coconut (which is a damn shame considering I’m Filipino) but I love dishes with heaps of coconut milk in them, like curry. That’s the one coconut-related thing I enjoy, but otherwise I’ve never learned to appreciate the taste and smell of buko juice, coconut shavings, coconut pies, and everything else coconut. What is the heaviest you think you can lift? From what my old PE class showed me, around 70 to 80 lbs. Do you take Tums? Idk what that is so I guess I don’t. Have you ever walked on a pier at the beach? I’m not sure if I’ve been to a pier before. I bet it feels wonderful and freeing and I’d love to visit one; but I also can’t keep myself from associating piers with the recurring image of Jennifer Connelly’s character standing on one from Requiem for a Dream. How about under one? No. At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? Not sure if it was 11 or 12, but it was definitely one of those years. Do you feel that way around anyone now? Yeah, if they allowed me to see them. But I’m shut out now so I haven’t had that sensation in a while.

Do you ever talk to yourself or think deep thoughts while on the toilet? No. Do you ever sing to yourself? Sure. I’m sure most people do every once in a while. What is a sound that relaxes you? Ocean waves have never failed. How hard has it been to reach your main goal in life? ‘Main goal’ sounds so overwhelming; I make it a point to avoid one overarching goal and instead make little goals and plans here and there depending on where I am in life. Do you remember the song about hoes in different area codes? Never heard of it. What is your main heritage? Filipino. What kind of pickles do you prefer, if you like pickles? I hate pickles. What kind of cheese do you prefer, if you like cheese? Mozzarella and feta are my faves, but I love cheese and am willing to be adventurous when it comes to it. If you could have a sea creature as a pet, what would you want? Eh, they can stay in the sea where they can actually survive. I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to keeping fish as pets. How about a farm animal? Probably pig. So, do you have hoes in different area codes? No, and ew. What is the most annoying song you can think of that came out recently? Haven’t been exposed to a lot of new music lately and the songs I do get to hear on the radio whenever I drive are actually pretty good. This totally doesn’t answer your question but my favorites so far have been Birthday by Disclosure, Kehlani, and Syd; and Plain by Benee, Lily Allen, and Flo Milli. What is a song that you hate to admit you like? Any Kanye song I like. What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? Not wanting to go into another downward spiral. Do you ever use Urban Dictionary? Extremely rarely. I only do when there’s a new slang I’m completely unfamiliar with. Do you find the definitions on there to be generally funny or stupid? Stupid for the most part. I find them too immature or vulgar, but that’s one of the points of the website so I guess I’m just not in their target audience lol. What comes to your mind when you hear the word 'transformation'? Uh, the Transformer robots.

What was something you regularly played with as a child? My cousins’ toy soldiers.

Have you ever given in to peer pressure? Eh, a few times. If so, what did you do? I’ve been pulled to drinking sessions here and there when I really shouldn’t be drinking because I had an important test tomorrow or something else was happening the next day that was just as significant. What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? Teeth, I’m pretty sure. I’ve had braces, needed a tooth extracted, gotten a cavity, and gone through a severe toothache.

Do a lot of people check you out when you're in public? Idk I never look around because being aware of it would just freak me out and make me feel like I’m naked. What is a good name for a turtle? Would depend on their personality. And this applies to all kinds of pets, at least for me. I don’t decide on their names until I have a good grasp of their attitude. Can you imitate any accents well? If so, which one(s)? Stereotypical Filipino mom and valley girl. Do you like having your ear nibbled on? Sure. What makes a good kisser a good kisser? I’ve only kissed one person so I’m not the best judge for this; but I always like it when my lower lip is tugged or grazed on. How many times a year do you have a family thing? This is a little vague for me. Do you mean get-togethers? Giant-ass reunions? Movie nights? Game nights? What are the best things to put in a smoothie? I only like one kind of smoothie and it’s sold by a local joint – and I think I’ve already shared this before but that smoothie of theirs that I like has “apple, banana, cinnamon, oats, coco sugar, chia seeds, greens, and soy milk,” according to their menu. So I guess those are the best ingredients for me, ha. Do you ever eat with your eyes closed and just focus on the taste? When I find something extremely delicious, yeah. What do you dislike most about where you live right now? For the most part I can’t wait to get out of suburban residential villages. I’d love to finally experience living in a condo in a super busy and active city. Has anyone ever given you a rose/roses? Yes.

Are you watching your weight? Not really. I’m trying to gain pounds though, if anything. I haven’t eaten much in the last two months. Have you ever become really good friends with someone you found online? I trust y’all with my life, so that’s one. Apart from Tumblr, the best friends I made were probably the people in the AJ/Punk fandom, back when I had a stan account on Twitter. I don’t remember most of their names now and we fizzled out pretty quickly when both parts of the ship left WWE, but I look back on that period with fondness. Those people made high school a lot easier for me. What makes your best friend your best friend? She doesn’t care whether I’m on top of the world with happiness or completely self-destructive and crying my eyes out; she has always been present. Do you have a drunk uncle? *rolls eyes* We don’t wanna open up that can of worms... Do you hear weird noises in your house at night? Nope. What is something you do that is generally more like something the opposite sex does? Based on personal experience and not to come off as sexist, but it’s liking wrestling. I have never met a girl in real life who has even the most remote interest in pro wrestling or can tell me who Hulk Hogan is. And the ones I’ve had discussions with - from shallow/casual to in-depth - have all been guys. Seeing girls who are into wrestling is like finding a rare Pokemon, at least in real life. What is the girliest thing you do, if you're a girl? Idk. What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? Probably the spork tattoo of Josh, a crew member from Good Mythical Morning. It’s just a line tattoo. Of a spork. On his arm. But he managed to make it so goddamn fascinating lmao; and apparently, as I learned just now, it has a pretty touching backstory to it too, which makes it a million times cooler. Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? I’ve never finished any of the crafts I bought. Never finished a coloring book page much less an entire coloring book, a painting, a gem painting...it’s something I’ll have to bring my butt to do one of these days. I can’t imagine how fulfilling it would feel. Do you only eat the middle of the oreo, if you eat oreos? I eat the whole thing but I honestly find Oreos too sweet and I’ve always much rather preferred Oreo-flavored stuff instead of the actual cookies.

Do you know anyone with a huge ego? My mom. If so, is there anything else about them you actually like? She’s fed me for 22 years and gave me an education, I guess. Though it’s something I appreciate more so than like. Have you ever used a racial slur, even jokingly? Probably as a dumb kid, when historical context wasn’t a thing to me yet. I still wince thinking about it, but I suppose what matters is being better and more responsible moving forward. Do you have any friends who are more like siblings to you? Angela and to some extent Andi.

If so, what about them do you like most? They are both understanding when it comes to me - almost to a fault. What do you like on your hotdogs, if you eat hotdogs? When you say ‘hotdogs’ here, it refers to the sausages itself. The sandwich kind of hotdog isn’t super popular here. What is everyone else in your house doing right now? My siblings are still resting in their rooms; my dad is preparing for work, I think. What is the most money you've ever had at one time? Something like P10,000 or P15,000 when my mom needed me to pay for something in cash. How long do you think it would take you to run a mile? Idk, maybe 10 minutes. I won’t be fast, that’s for sure. Look down. What do you see? My legs and the pillow I’m sitting on. What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Right now, probably my failed relationship. I haven’t gotten to the sharing stage yet and remotely thinking about it gets my voice all shaky. What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? Paramore. What kind of mood were you in most of today? It’s only 7:52 AM. My only mood so far is just woke up. Has anyone ever walked in on you naked? Yeah. Because people in this damn house never knock. Tell me an inside joke you have with someone. The word ‘ariba.’ What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Break my trust. So simple but it packs a punch. What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Idk if I’ve ever been that aggressive. When I want to do something destructive towards someone I always end up asking what it would feel like if the action was done to me, and it’s always been enough to sway me away from doing the thing. How do you feel now about the first person you ever dated? Sad. How about the last person (your last ex)? Same person. What is the best invention ever invented? Air conditioners.

What is something that needs to be invented? Portable air conditioners. What always makes you burp? My burps come randomly. What are you doing tomorrow? It’s my last weekend before my new job, soooooooo...I’ll be bumming around for my last two days of freedom.

#survey #surveys

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sgntaeho · 4 years

Photo

❱❭ sgn task #01 ; “kiss me thru the phone"

a peak into kwon taeho’s phone;

✦ what kind of cell phone do you have? ⁠ iphone 11 pro, midnight green

✦ how often do you use your cell phone? no more and no less than the average person my age. honestly depends on how much i’m not paying attention in class or other involuntary functions

✦ what is your phone’s lock screen photo? (see above)

✦ what is your phone’s home screen photo? (see above); just trying to catch some summer vibes, ya feel?

✦ how many contacts do you have in your phone? around 400? only cause i don’t bother to clear things out. i can’t remember who half of them are, and i definitely won’t be hitting them up anytime in this lifetime

✦ do you customize contact names or enter as given names? mostly given names; unless we’re close (or you’re a memorable character), in which case you’ll get a spirit emoji or something tacked onto the end. i’m not slick with nicknames, so unless you set one for yourself, i’d rather not try

✦ what is their default ringtone? whatever the factory setting is

✦ do you have personalized ringtones for your contacts or does everyone use the default ringtone? everyone on default; too much of a hassle otherwise, and i don’t take enough calls or have my volume up for it to matter anyways

✦ how many alarms do you have set and why? i only have one actively set for the morning but have way too many saved, for nearly every time of day. i’m a weirdo who’d rather spend 30 seconds scrolling through my endless list of alarms instead of just setting a new one for the time i need. also times always set on odd numbers (xx:01, xx:09, xx:13, etc.) and never on nice times that end in xx:00, xx:15, x:30, etc. because i hate even or clean-cut numbers

✦ what are your top 3 most used apps? imessage (+ other messaging apps), instagram, spotify

✦ what are your favorite apps? reddit is my guilty pleasure and safe space. twitter is fun even though i personally don’t tweet much (or else i’d spend all day fighting people on there, and i get enough of that in real life). also spotify because i’m almost always listening to something and can’t stand being idle in silence

✦ what are your last 3 google searches or the last 3 things you’ve asked your built in ai? ⮕ "memento movie ending interpretations” ⮕ "do you get notifications if someone screenshots your instagram story” ⮕ "can i feed my cat grapes”

✦ do you delete your internet search history or use incognito mode? if so, how often, and why? i’ll use incognito; not because i feel the need to hide anything, but because i don’t want too many one-time searches polluting my ‘recommended’ results later on. that shit’s the worst

✦ do you download music or use a streaming app? if so, which one and why? self-proclaimed spotify supremacist here. they have a comprehensive stock of both korean and non-korean stuff, which is a must. plus it’s so much easier to curate playlists, jump around, and discover new music without me having to fully commit to buying and downloading something (...does this say something more about me as a person?)

✦ what are the last 3 songs you’ve listen to on your phone? ♫ ‘error’ by ash island ft. loopy ♫ ‘all day (band ver.)’ by giriboy ♫ ‘please love me’ by colde (yeah, i’m a sucker for k-hiphop/rnb)

✦ what does your photo album consist of? it’s a pretty scary and eclectic place in there. to start, i take a lot of screenshots: receipts of when my friends say stupid things, school stuff, cocktail recipes, the outright ridiculous shit my dad’s various news outlets will put out (which i subsequently flame him for whenever we actually have to talk). so. many. cat. pics — but they’re fucking cute, alright? some random fit pics and fashion inspo. to be completely frank, there are more selfies than i’d like to admit and some... highly cringe gym pics. but none of that is being sent for anyone else’s eyes, so it’s chill. totally chill... and of course, i have a lot of stuff for photography club in the cloud.

✦ what is your texting style? do you reply quickly or are you a slow texter? do you send several messages at a time or paragraphs? i’m not the type to be texting a million people at once, so if we’re talking, i’ll probably reply pretty promptly. sometimes i’ll drop off the face of the earth, but try not to take it too personally. i definitely tend to spam send multiple, shorter messages as opposed to a single longer one. chaotic thoughts, grammar, and structure alike

✦ what are the last 3 texts you’ve sent? ⮕ vince: "is this dry needling thing supposed to be hurting still? it’s been a whole ass week...” ⮕ junhyung: "stop texting me” ⮕ hyunjoo: "hey, do you know when my mom is getting back home?”

✦ who do you text the most? couldn’t really tell you for sure. i’m not the type of person who needs to live update their life over text to somebody, and i’m not particularly invested in every little thing someone else is doing either, no offense. among my guy friends, we can maintain friendships without a whole lot of constant talking. so if i’m texting someone in high volume and frequency, it’s probably because we’re arguing over something (i’m sure you aren’t even surprised by now). or, it could be a girl i’m interested in and that’s like... not so common either.

✦ what are your top 6 used emojis? 😤 🙃 🥴 👀 🤷‍♂️ 😈

✦ how often do you call others? i hate phone calls. they’re clunky af, and you always have to awkwardly go “i-- oh-- no you go ahead” because you’re always interrupting each other. quite often people call me and i purposely watch it go to voicemail and text them back some time after, because i don’t want to pick up. so really, i only call when it’s really necessary. i think facetime is better and cool for casual though, so i’ll do that with friends instead.

✦ who were the last 3 calls made to and why? assuming you mean traditional phone calls... ⮕ dad (well more like my dad’s assistant) — to tell him to gtfo of my school life and stop signing on to throw money at (or ‘sponsor’) things without telling me. i can already tell he’s gearing up to pitch me the ‘you should take over the company’ case again when i get home for break ⮕ older sister — just to make sure she’s alive or well or whatever. total nuisance ⮕ campus police — i just had to... test a little something about their alarm infrastructure. please don’t ask any more

✦ who do you call the most? again, i don’t like calling people — few things in life are that urgent. but my mom, i guess. she calls me a lot when she’s not shooting for something, but i think it’s just to make herself feel like she’s doing the most as a mother

✦ do you have someone blocked? if so, who and why? no. i’m not petty or proactive enough to do something like that, even to the most annoying of people... now that i think about it, i should probably block an ex or two, just so drunk me won’t even get the chance to do anything stupid. but it’s not like i’ve ever done anything like that before, so whatever.

✦ are you apart of any group chats? with whom? just what you’d expect: swim team, photography club, people in my major, friends i’ll go out with on weekends, and so forth. albeit i’m that guy who shamelessly has the group on mute, so you’re probably going to have to aggressively @ me if you want me. then there’s the family group chat, which is mostly my parents getting on my case and making sure i have family obligations marked on my calendar while my sister sits back and laughs at my pain.

✦ do you use the notes app? yep... i have a lot of thoughts, okay?

#{ tasks }#sgn:task01 #(/irrelevant title but had to pay tribute to a throwback jam lol)

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imaginarycircus · 4 years

Text

Today is my birthday and all well wishes are giddily accepted. I’m going to level with you. I’ve felt disappointed in myself lately more and more. For the last few years I’ve been increasingly selfconscious and kind of embarrassed about my age, my appearance, and my lack of success for a given value of success. Like I’m an old washing machine that needs to be taken out back and disassembled for parts or used as a fire pit. The worst part is that I knew I was selling myself a bill of goods and I couldn’t stop.

This is venting. I’d love it if you have time and energy to listen, but please don’t give me advice. If you want to share your experiences or feelings that is cool. I’d love to hear about you. I’m sorry this is like a 3 TED talk series, but you do not have to read it and I don’t expect anyone to do so.

If a friend told me they felt like this I’d theoretically grab their face in both hands and look into their eyes and say, “You precious, wonderful, jar of dumbass jam.”

“You have a messy life and stuff that gets in the way and maybe you’re not always doing your best, but you try to and you’re nice to animals and you sure do cry about them a lot. This writing deal is hard. You started 17 years ago, which was a bit late, and you’ve worked really hard. Despite every rejection, you have not stopped. Do you realize how much better you’ve become than you were? Sure. You’ve had some bad luck. Everyone has, but yours is yours. It sucks, but don’t let it define you. Oh. You already let it define you. Past-you is gone and now-you can stop doing that.

You got the MFA. You wrote a novel and your agent couldn’t sell it, but you did it. And you got an agent, which is pretty good. You did well in that Penguin contest. You didn’t win, but top 50 out of 5,000 isn’t too bad. You created two scripted series and wrote the first season of one of them 2-3 times and planned the other in exquisite detail. It’s in development hell and I know you’re tired and you’ve kind of given up hope, but the people negotiating stuff believe in your work (also @kyrieanne‘s work.) You’ve written a lot. You’re writing a novel right now and your agent is on board. Plus you’re still riding around on this planet. There were times you wanted to get off the ride, but you didn’t.

No one else but you swims in the alchemical product of your past, your traumas, your joys, your education, your hard work, your chronic health issues, and your many mistakes. Own it and fucking walk up the chest of anyone who says you’re not good enough. Yeah. You got walk up your own chest now, buddy. Take some advil. I love you. Take out the trash. And remember you had three separate cancer scares this year. Two surgeries. Two biopsies, one of them a total nightmare, and you were bleeding so much because of that uterine polyp you had no iron for carrying oxygen to your bits and bobs or your brainbox. Take a breath. Take a shower. Drink water. Go out this evening and eat a warm buttered lobster roll and drink some good wine and realize how fucking lucky you are to be able to do that. I love you, you beautiful, dumbass jar of jam.”

But my inner convo has been like, “Dude. Honey. Me. Plz stop. Comparisons are odious. Yes, we like John Donne. No, we do not usually think about ourselves in the third person, but for this exercise it makes sense that even when I am talking to myself I may be talking to another part of myself I’m so at odds with they seem like a different person. We contain multitudes! We also have the adhd and what were we talking about? Oh, yes. We think we’re old and a failure. We’ve bought into it so hard that it keeps us up at night and stalks us during the day. If it walks like a failure duck and talks like a failure duck...

Okay. The WE thing has to stop. Switching to 2nd person, extremely goddamn familiar.

You’re 48 (49 today) and everyone around you is seems so accomplished and has racked up cool resume worthy successes, which you learn about on that bastion or truth and moral rectitude--the twitter. They ARE things. While you? Are nothing in particular. Mostly a lot of “does not live up to potential.” And what the fuck have you done? 3k NY Times crossword puzzles? You haven’t published anything and maybe that’s because you’re not a very good writer. You’ve written a lot of shit in the last two decades, but where has it gotten you? Maybe you’re a dilettante with no substance. You can’t prove you aren’t.

People 20 years younger have accomplished so much more. Now you’re old and annoying and occasionally confused by the youths and their slang. You’re still never sure of the nuance of bougie because it seems to be used in so many different ways. You got cagey about telling anyone your age bc the number sounds alarming. You know you’re buying into a bullshit patriarchal system that devalues people further if they’re no longer baby factories.

And there was that bullshit when some partially baked people told adults to get out of fandom and you kind of said fuck that noise gently with a chainsaw, but you also felt bad. Like an old cranky dude in a ratty old bathrobe who pours beer on his generic cheerios (tragically called rings’o’oats) and shovels them into his mouth thinking about how he could have BEEN someone, but was struck down by tragedy, or an ego so fragile a light breeze destroyed it. Who refuses to teach a young whipper snapper the ancient art of smacking an object from one place to another bc he’s golluming over his manpain. An off-brand Obi Wan who must be harassed to rejoin the human race and who starts to live again after helping some prodigy succeed. Except you? You’re in the ratty bathrobe phase, probably for eternity, and no one is coming to ask you to do anything, because you never did anything. You’re getting wrinkles and you feel invisible a lot of the time in a way that makes you want to set things on fire bc you’re a middle aged lady, who is not particularly pretty, accomplished, or a mom so wtf are you? And you know that’s a world of absolute bullshit, but you’re soaking it like it’s the world’s biggest tub of Palmolive and you don’t remember getting into it. You know what would make you feel better and give you an ersatz sense of accomplishment?”

And then I do another crossword puzzle. I went back into therapy with someone who specializes in adhd. It’s helping. I haven’t been around here much bc... welp. You’re reading this. I didn’t want to be No Face in Spirited Away vomiting all this trash on you, especially because I know it’s the most womp womp, irritating, middle aged white lady thinks her life is hard and must tell you about it at great length. But then I remember my shitty feelings are valid and I do not ever expect anyone to read this so I can put here if it helps me.

I will be fine. These are human shaped problems. But if you’ve read this nonsense and thought about it, giggled at it, or wondered if you should call someone like I’m a cat stuck in a tree who did not know fully comprehend the consequences of her actions? Thank you. I appreciate you. As always I hope a dog looks at you and wants to be your friend, or a cat walks on your hair because it loves you. (It should go without saying, but feel free to substitute any animal or item into my well wishes as per your requirements.) If you need an excuse to eat cake today--I have decreed that you must do this in my honor. But only if you feel like it and you can eat cake. Also the cake can be made of anything. The cake could be avocados or mathematical. Use your imagination.

To wit; I am 49 fucking years old today. I’m owning it. I’m owning every wrinkle and sun spot. (I started using a serum to deal with sun damage and it seems to work. People told me to wear sunscreen, but I did not.) I’m owning my own failures (and sun damage). I’m learning to own my successes too, especially the ones that don’t make sense to other people without a power point presentation, a Q&A, and a ritual burning of certain artifacts.

Here’s what I’ve done with my life. I’ve lived it.

#personal #food cw #blithering about my own nonsense #I'm Stuart Smalley #It's 17 degrees for the 17th?#I apologize for my needlessly Baroque prose #mental health #I never thought I'd be middle aged because it's a state of mind #Now I realize it's the physical equivalent of being a 1985 Honda with 150k miles on it

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highlordbaltim · 4 years

Text

Questions and Answers.

Found a thing, but am putting this here instead of Twitter. Not sure how I will do with this one but it might be good for me.

1. It is easy to make him annoyed. But he’s a diplomat and won’t show it unless you’re close to him. True anger is much more difficult to invoke in him.

2. He’s not sure. Maybe. He does know certain people are made to be together more than others.

3. Oh many pet peeves. Ranging from being disrespectful to things like not brewing tea correctly.

4. Memories of good times with friends and his significant other. Or escaping into a good book.

5. He was probably happiest when he was a child and his mother was still alive. He’d say he’s very happy with the person in his life right now too. And it’s true. But there’s no denying that a lot of things are weighing him down as well.

6. Most unhappy was during his trauma experience.

7. More likely to buy someone else a drink for sure. He does not like to take advantage of other people’s generosity.

8. Yes, multiple bones during his trauma event, though he didn’t really break them so much as have them broken for him by others.

9. Yes. See above.

10. A moment of playing outside in the sun. Worry free and content. There’s not a whole lot to the memory aside from that feeling of innocence and uncomplicatedness.

11. He’s never really had a specific type but due to the busy schedule of his work, in the past he’s mainly only dated women from the limited social circle which was available to him. None of them were ever really compatible with him.

12. His shield is probably his favorite posession. It’s been through a lot with him and has kept him alive on many an occasion. He has a history and connection with that object and always treats it with respect and care.

13/14. No piercings and no tattoos. He likely never will.

15. His dream house would likely be a beach house, somewhat remote, in a nice warm place. Far enough from the nearest settlement to be private and not see people much where he is, but close enough for convenience.

16. That he is good natured, approachable and easy to talk to. He does look like a typical high ranking Blood Elf. And his neutral face does not exactly scream happy or fun.

17. Pretty good. When he chooses gifts he very much thinks them through and tries to make it something personal which he thinks that specific person would enjoy based on what he’s learned about them.

18. People skills. He takes pride in handling his diplomatic missions well. Much more so than in his also present combat skills.

19. Confident but much more quiet, interested and observant than a typical Blood Elf. Friendly but also sometimes a bit difficult to read.

20. Good at keeping up appearances. Multilayered, mercurial. Kind but with a lot of unresolved issues and internal struggles.

21. Many personal insecurities. Some trust issues and fears resulting from his trauma, and many insecurities from time spent with a mentally unstable parent and not quite having had a childhood like most.

22. Defense and Charisma.

23. If it was in a diploma setting, he’d half expect it and take it in stride. If it were someone close to him, initially his reaction would be rather strong and admonishing. But if it was for his own good, he would likely apologize after a while of mulling it over.

24. Warm weather, generally, but he has a soft spot for gloomy rainy days he can stay inside and read by as well.

25. He has a hard time saying that to anyone but his significant other. Those words mean something very intimate to him, and he does not generally use them unless that’s what he means.

26. Not easy at all. He will sometimes, but generally he will keep it to himself or if he does let it slip out, deflect and try to steer away from ot via self deprecating humor.

27. Yes, many times. It’s inevitable in his line of work.

28. Yes, a little, but people don’t generally tend to find out. He is very wary of people touching him without asking and if done suddenly, they will likely be subdued and on the ground themselves before they realize what hit them.

29. Fairly high now that he’s experienced some of the worst and has that as a measuring stick.

30. Ask his significant other to commit officially. He knows she would, but he worries about his own mental state and feels like people deserve a long trial run before deciding they can really permanently put up with him.

31. A neat eater.

32. Returning from his trauma situation, recovering mentally and physically and having no one there for him during that difficult time.

33. Memories with his mom, but they are very distant. More recently, it was someone spending a day with him when he wasn’t feeling well and them making the whole day about taking care of him and making him feel better.

34. Touch. Which is interesting because he does not let people touch him easily. He does very much crave it in an environment which feels safe to him, however.

35. Definitely. It’s part of his job as a Paladin and diplomat. He is also very good at learning about people and steering conversations towards places which help him do exactly that.

36. He would spend a LOT of time thinking about that before spending that. Likely some leader to ask their true intentions to be absolutely sure.

37. The past. There are some things to resolve and undo for him there.

38. Positive, his mom. Negative, the people who caused his trauma and changed him forever.

39. As much as he loves his space and privacy, I think he does need his contact and interactions. So surrounded by people... I think...

40. Yes. Past events and the night terrors which make him relive them in rather vivid detail.

And I made it through!

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missmarquin · 4 years

Text

Love Like a Spell

Yuri might be a master of brewing love potions, but he's hopeless when it comes to his own romance.

Read here on AO3 for better formatting! And if you’d like, follow me here on Twitter! #####

Love spells were dumb, but they were his most popular seller, so Yuri persisted.

He added a pinch of salt to the concoction-- just because he was a salty ass-- and then another of ground rose petals. There was a spark, followed by a puff of smoke, and the liquid morphed from a dark red into a light pink. Yuri’s nose twitched at the sweet smell, but conceded it a job well done.

Yuri spooned the mixture into a bottle, corked it and then labeled it with the name of his client, Mila. Yuri frowned. It wasn’t that his magic didn’t work, but that she kept using it on men, when she should be using it on women instead. Specifically one woman.

She brushed off his words though, always telling him that she paid for his power in a bottle, not relationship advice, because what did he know? She wasn’t wrong; what did he know? Nothing really, because Yuri was a man who willfully lived in pitiful loneliness, selling love to others because he couldn’t bear to settle down on his own.

Yuri told himself that it was because there weren’t any good options.

And then Otabek Altin walked through his shop door, and Yuri is reminded that that isn’t remotely the case. There was an incredibly good option, dark haired and handsome. With wide shoulders that Yuri itched to run his hands along; a slim waist that he wanted to press against a table.

Otabek Altin, the ultimate distraction and definitely not interested.

“Ho there, Yura,” Otabek said, shifting the box he held across his hip slightly. “I have your delivery.” Like plenty of witches around, Yuri didn’t have the time to procure his own ingredients, so he ordered them instead. Otabek was a regular fixture in his shop with deliveries of once, sometimes twice a day. It had only been chance that they had become good friends over the years.

“Counter,” Yuri said, waving toward a work table. It was covered in random half-finished spells and knick-knacks. “Just scoot everything to the side.”

Otabek did so, dropping the box onto the old hardwood. “I couldn’t find everything on your work order, but I’ll trek deeper tomorrow. Still, I managed to find your wormroot, so you shouldn’t be too much out of luck.”

Yuri hummed at that, before setting Mila’s potion onto the shelf for pick-up. Otabek leaned against the worktable, arms crossed over his chest. “The red haired woman again?”

“She really should just listen to me,” Yuri said with a sigh. “Sara comes in here for a spell every week. I’m tired of having to pretend to brush Mila’s hair back, just to pluck a few strands for it.”

“Has Sara considered just… telling the woman that she loves her?” Otabek asked.

Yuri sighed again, rubbing at his brow tiredly. “I never said that she listened to me either. Honestly, they are a hopeless pair.”

Otabek was quiet for a long moment, before he said, “Hopeless or not, love is a tricky thing. Sometimes its easier to wish and hope, than to take action.”

Yuri cracked open an eye to look at him, surprised by his subtle words of wisdom. Otabek was a quiet kind of man, who didn’t often share bits of himself with others. Yuri was one of the rare few, and he’d even gained a nickname from the man. Yura.

“What about you, Otabek?” Yuri asked, lips twisting into a devilish smile. “Speaking from experience?”

“No,” Otabek said. “My approach is just different.”

“How so?”

Otabek rubbed at his chin. “I prefer to watch from afar, and I’m content with that.”

“That sounds boring,” Yuri said, but what he really meant, was that it sounded sad. Not that Yuri liked love or romance, or anything. He just made money off of it.

He definitely didn’t like the soft, sappy look that had fallen across Otabek’s face, when he reminisced about whomever. Probably some busty woman with legs up to here. It was a phrase that Yuri had often heard and never quite grasped.

“Help me put this stuff away,” Yuri finally said, changing the conversation.

Because Yuri was a tall and gangly mess of limbs, Otabek was shorter by a good half a foot. Not that Yuri cared. Otabek radiated more masculine energy than even the blacksmith who lived around the corner. Yuri leaned over him slightly, setting jars on bookshelves high over Otabek’s head.

Yuri actually relished these small little moments, because they were the closest that he would ever allow himself within Otabek’s orbit. The subtle brushing of their shoulders, the gentle nudges to the side. Sometimes Yuri would linger, and sometimes he wouldn’t.

Otabek was always indifferent, but that eased it somehow.

It was an effortless friendship with casual closeness, and even if Yuri’s heart sometimes beat a little faster, or sometimes it ached; it worked for them.

It worked for them, and Yuri would tell himself that it was enough.

The truth about love spells is that they only work if the witch who brewed them had known love.

The stronger that love, the stronger the spell. The reason for it was simple: When a witch made a spell, it was made with a part of themselves. This was why spells could be costly.

Spells didn’t always have the desired effect, and love spells were the trickiest of all. Sara and Mila were a frustrating pair, because Mila focused her efforts on men that she would never love. Sara was patient, may the Gods bless her, and she felt it was worth the wait. Even if she still bought a weekly spell to help things along.

Honestly, lovesick people made the worst kind of clients. They exhausted him.

Yuri’s love spells were wide and well-known for their potency when they worked, and that was something he took great pride in. When younger, he’d infused his work with his love for his grandfather, and now--

Well, it wasn’t a secret that he loved Otabek, not to himself at least. The least he could do was nurture that love, even if quietly, and let it help others. It was a useful outlet, because hotheads like Yuri didn’t like to waste their days away, thinking of low voices and hair so soft, that it felt like brushed silk.

Yuri still maintained that he wasn’t the romantic sort. You could be in love and not stoop to the level of his silvery-haired neighbor, and his pig-faced lover. Or husband. Really, whatever they were. Soft and sappy words, and stolen kisses, and quiet dances under the full moon when they thought no one was looking.

He definitely wasn’t jealous, not one bit.

Yuri was about to stopper a spell, when Otabek walked into his shop unexpectedly. There wasn’t a box across his hip for delivery, and he didn’t have a basket of his sister’s food. Yuri liked Maya, even if she insisted that he was too skinny, constantly worried that he’d lost himself in the day’s work.

It annoyed him more that she wasn’t always wrong.

Yuri paused and blinked at him. “Beka,” he said, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Yura,” he said, but then he hesitated.

That caused Yuri to narrow his eyes slightly. Otabek wasn’t the kind of man to hesitate, or even look unsure of himself, but he stood there in the entrance to his small shop, shifting back and forth on his feet like he was about to bolt and--

Well, it was weird.

“Is everything alright?” Yuri asked him, lips tugged into a small little frown.

“I wanted to ask…” Otabek thumbed along his jaw, something that he did when he was a little bit nervous. “The Solstice is a week from now,” he finally said.

“That isn’t news. Your point?”

“Are you celebrating with anyone?” Otabek asked quietly.

“Who would I celebrate with? I usually do it alone and that suits me just fine.” Yuri paused. “Did Maya send you here? What, does she want me to come--”

“I want to celebrate with you.”

Yuri blinked, head cocked to the side. “What?” Then he realized how annoyed and indelicate that sounded, because it was Otabek. His best and only friend; they do things with each other often. The idea of celebrating the Solstice together wasn’t such an unusual idea.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that,” Yuri said, when Otabek looked like he was about bolt right back out the front door. “You just caught me at a weird time.” He waved the bottle in his hand around.

“Another love spell?”

“Ugh, what else?” He paused and then, “I’m wearing myself out on them. I should limit the amount that I do per week.”

Otabek looked at him for a long moment. “You want people to find their happiness. It’s admirable.”

“It’s dumb,” Yuri said. “I shouldn’t care. I should just want to make money.”

“But you do care, Yura,” Otabek said. “And that’s what makes you the best of the best.”

Yuri rubbed at his neck tiredly. “Look, let me cork this up, and we’ll go to your sister’s for dinner, and well make plans for the weekend, okay?”

Otabek didn’t usually smile, but there was the tiniest quirk of his lips. Good. “Alright.”

Yuri returned the look and moved to stand from his stool. He grabbed the cork and began to seal the bottle, but as he was moving, he tripped over his own feet. Yuri stumbled and lost grip of the bottle which tipped over, splattering the potion all over Otabek and--

All over Otabek.

“Shit,” Yuri murmured. “Shit, shit shit.”

There were tons of types of love spells, but this particular brew was in his opinion, the nastiest kind. It sparked interest between the first person the target saw, and Yuri charged people literally a year’s worth of wages to even think about making it.

He couldn’t let Otabek fall victim to such a dumb and terrible thing. He cursed, knocked things out of the way, tried to think of a counter spell. He was working on borrowed time. It would only take a few moments for it to kick in, and even then, the spell could be reversed. It was just considerably harder.

“Yura,” Otabek said, letting out a long breath as he shook liquid off of his hand. His clothing was drenched, he should really get out of those--

“Otabek, you need to strip. Get out of those clothes right now.” Otabek didn’t move though, which caused Yuri to snap his gaze back to him. “Beka, I’m serious. That’s a nasty love spell. Out of your clothing, I don’t care what I see. A few more minutes and you’ll be all over me, and I think that you’d hate that and--”

“Yura,” Otabek said again, this time quieter. “I don’t think it’ll work on me.”

Yuri’s mouth snapped shut as he paused in his desperate search. When he looked back to Otabek, he still stood there, shaking his hands out and mildly annoyed that he was wet, but otherwise unaffected.

Which made no sense. Otabek should be all doe-eyed and dopey faced, wanting to please him, wanting to give Yuri his every whim. But he wasn’t, which could only mean--

Yuri swallowed thickly at the thought that maybe his feelings weren’t so one-sided after all. The only reason that this kind of love spell wouldn’t work, was if the target was already in love with the caster.

Otabek’s mother was a witch, so he would likely know that.

Yuri stood straight. “Right,” he said. “Okay, um, a shirt then. We should still get you out of those wet clothes, even though I’m not sure that I have anything that will fit you--”

“Yura,” Otabek said, reaching out to grasp Yuri’s wrist gently.

“Beka, I didn’t--”

“When we spoke a few weeks back, it made me do some thinking. I was content with watching, but I’ve always wanted more than that,” Otabek said. “Do you understand?”

“I’m not dumb Beka,” Yuri said, “and I get why it’s not--” He huffed angrily, waving between them. “Look, are you going to say it or what?”

Otabek hesitated. “Do you want me to?”

“Do I--?” Yuri let out a sort of strangled, flabbergasted sound. “The only reason that my spells work so well, is because I’ve been teetering on this edge of something that I’ve never quite grasped, except that I know exactly what it is, and Gods above Otabek, just--”

Otabek kissed him. Yuri sort of fell against him, grabbing his shoulders to steady himself, opened his mouth to slot their lips at a better angle. And shit, if this is was kissing was like, then Yuri had been the dumb one avoiding it, because there wasn’t anything quite like the feeling of Otabek pressed against him, hand holding his chin gently, guiding him through it.

When they broke apart, Yuri breathed out a curse and Otabek laughed.

“The spell won’t work because--”

“Beka, I fucking swear--”

“--I already love you, Yura.”

Otabek smiled at him, a sort of insufferable, sappy, long-wanted and long-awaited thing, and Yuri hated how quickly he pulled the man back to him. Yuri leaned over him, hands on Otabek’s cheeks as he kissed him again, shorter and sweeter this time.

“You’re dumb,” Yuri said, when he pulled back. “How long?”

“Does it matter?” Otabek asked him. He smelled like rose petals and turmeric, and other things that Yuri had thrown into the spell. “And like you’re one to talk.”

“No, this isn’t about me,” Yuri said.

Otabek scoffed. “Yuri, you’ve been throwing your love into those spells for years. Everyone knows it, even my sister. And when she notices things, that’s when you know it’s bad.”

Yuri sighed. “So, the Summer Solstice,” he said, derailing the conversation from anything but that.

“I want to spend it with you,” Otabek said.

“You do know that the stories of witches dancing naked under the moon are vastly exaggerated, right?”

“Hm, yes.” Otbake smoothed his hand down Yuri’s sleeve. “Does that change anything?”

“No.” Yuri didn’t even have to think about the word, it just immediately came. Effortless and easy, just like their friendship. Just like their love.

“I mean it, you know,” Otabek said. “When I say that I love you.”

Yuri finally looked at his face, Otabek’s dark eyes wide and open. Shit, he looked good-- he always looked good-- but this was different. Yuri loved the way that he was baring himself unabashedly. Yuri wasn’t good at that, he probably wouldn’t ever be.

“Did you come here to tell me that?”

“No,” Otabek said. “I came here to ask you on a date. There’s usually an order to things like this.”

Yuri reached up to thread his fingers through Otabek’s hair. It was soft but coarse, curling slightly as it hung over his forehead.

“It goes without saying, that I love you too. I think that’s obvious.”

“It always has been, Yura,” Otabek said. “But that’s why your spells have always been the best.”

#otabek and yuri #otayuri #Otabek Altin #Yuri on ice #yuri on ice fanfiction #Yuri Plisetsky #Otabek/yuri #fanfiction #alternate universe

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gascon-en-exil · 4 years

Note

Octopath Traveler, Dimidue, Enjolras

Whew, that’s a lot.

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character:

Primrose, her story is among the more compelling and the content is surprisingly honest in its maturity for a T-rated JRPG.

Least Favorite character:

Lyblac for having next to no relevant setup for the person who’s technically the game’s central villain. The whole ending is just painfully clumsy.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

I don’t read much fic for OT, but any combination of the male travelers, Alfyn/Zeph, Olberic/Erhardt, and Therion/Darius all have their moments.

Character I find most attractive:

Olberic, he’s barely even past his prime and he’s a knight, yummy.

Character I would marry:

Probably Olberic again. Therion is inconstant, Alfyn is a country bumpkin, and Cyrus would be deeply annoying after a while and likely wouldn’t understand sex.

Character I would be best friends with:

Primrose, because we know all about those kinds of men.

a random thought:

Would have liked to see more of the dark cult in Ophilia’s story, and more on Orsterra’s pseudo-Catholic religion in general.

An unpopular opinion:

H’annit’s dialogue doesn’t sink her character for me, although she’s not someone I would have been much interested in in the first place. It’s ridiculous and clearly artificial, but not the worst thing ever.

My Canon OTP:

Alfyn/Zeph, lategame no homo sidequest or not. They carry each other’s satchels all game, which is both sweet and possibly the strangest allusion to ball play ever.

My Non-canon OTP:

Any of the aforementioned pairings among the male travelers, although I don’t care for how Alfyn/Therion is the overwhelming fandom favorite.

Most Badass Character:

How many scenes does Olberic basically solo? That said, I think H’annit is overall the strongest character.

Most Epic Villain:

Simeon, for staging a play about his ex as she’s coming to kill him, and then making the boss fight a part of that play. It’s such a thematically resonant set piece for the final boss of her story.

Pairing I am not a fan of:

Zeph/Mercedes, an obvious last ditch effort to attempt to prove that Zeph isn’t Alfyn’s boyfriend.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

Just...everything about the combined final boss.

Favourite Friendship:

Olberic and Alfyn, even if they’re not having sex. Good simple tank/healer fun.

Character I most identify with:

Primrose, again. Fallen aristocrat forced into sex work and obsessed with vengeance? I don’t really get her hints of lesbianism for the same reason I don’t get Dorothea’s in FE16, but that’s beside the point.

Character I wish I could be:

Probably Cyrus for that cushy teaching gig in the largest city on the continent.

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them:

Had my suspicions as early as the Blue Lions promo video when Dedue’s dislike was revealed to be anyone hurting Dimitri. Started shipping them hardcore as soon as the text dumps started coming in, and the canonical backing has only grown since.

My thoughts:

My followers know how I feel about Dimidue. It’s a nearly perfect iteration of the lord/knight dynamic I always enjoy in FE, with not one but several variations depending on route that all call back to previous pairings in meaningful. While I understand why it remains underrated (Dimileth, mostly unfounded hangups about the racial dynamic and power imbalance, Dedue’s just not that conventionally attractive) it’s downright criminal that this pairing and its broader implications for Dimitri’s character go so so frequently ignored.

What makes me happy about them:

I am not by nature a very romantic person, but their interactions can be so tender that it’s hard not to find them insufferably cute - ferocious murder husbands though they are capable of being.

What makes me sad about them:

Misinterpretations of their dynamic that stem for people not reading their supports very well and/or making assumptions based on their respective skin colors that don’t hold up to close scrutiny vis-à-vis the actual dynamic between Faerghus and Duscur.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Not much, but the occasional assertion on Twitter that only fanon Dimidue is acceptable because canon did them dirty. Do these people even read their supports and other interactions? “Dedue can’t think for himself in canon” my svelte French ass.

Things I look for in fanfic:

Solid writing as always, but I really like it when fics capture them as equals in private even in they keep up the professional relationship for the general public. Fics where they get a big wedding and everyone acts like there’s nothing at all unusual about it might be better wish fulfillment, but they don’t work as well for the setting in my opinion.

My wishlist:

Combination with the other male Lions for an OT5. There’s already porn of it, now someone other than me write it. All your favorite paired endings in one!

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

The game offers easy alternatives in Felix and Ashe, plus the aforementioned Lions orgy. Not Byleth, that’s for sure, with Dimitri because it’s clumsily written and has weird thematic implications or with Dedue because I’m pretty sure he’s not into women all that much. m!Byleth with either of them just feels like a solution to something that wasn’t a problem.

My happily ever after for them:

Their Azure Moon ending, although hopefully Dimitri won’t die too young and they’ll have many years together to adopt a bunch of orphans like in the ending tapestry and have a happy little family where no one dies violently. They’ve earned it after all they’ve been through.

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character:

In book canon he’s a glorious if very pointed allegory for the values of the Revolution, which can be hard to relate to an actual human and even harder to translate into adaptation...so for the most part they kind of don’t.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character:

Grantaire to complete the allegory, but all of Les Amis are fair game for a big gay orgy.

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character:

Combeferre and Courfeyrac form a fantastic triad with him even if they’re not romantic, and a solid friend dynamic.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

I strongly lean into Hugo’s androgynous descriptions for my mental picture of what Enjolras looks like, and I believe his natural feminine characteristics are intriguing and just about essential elements of his character although again they’re dropped from almost all adaptations.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

More Amis interactions are always good, especially for the ones he doesn’t spend as much time around in canon like Bahorel and Prouvaire.

Favorite friendship for this character:

Combeferre and Courfeyrac, see above.

My crossover ship:

None really? I don’t do crossovers much.

#Octopath Traveler #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Dimidue #Les Misérables #Enjolras

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

Text

● Name something you lost or gave away that can never be replaced. A lot of time wasted. “I wasted my time...” ● What 5 websites do you visit often, and why? Tumblr, YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest. ● Name a totally useless possession and how you came to acquire it. Some would consider knickknacks and collectibles and stuff useless, and I mean yeah they just sit on a shelf, but I like stuff like that. ● What music album would be used for a movie about your life? I don’t know. ● List your bad habits and/or addictions and what you have tried to rid yourself of them. I got a lot of bad habits. As for addictions, caffeine and my pain medicine. I don’t abuse it, I take it as prescribed, but after so long your body develops a dependency. I remember several years ago I tried to cut out caffeine. It lasted a couple days, I think. haha. The headaches are no joke.

● If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be, and what would you do if later on you changed your mind? There’s a long list of things I’d want to change, but I mean if I could have good health (mentally and physically) that would make a big difference. I think some other changes would follow. I can’t imagine I’d ever change my mind about that. ● What are your religious beliefs? Have they changed, or have they always stayed the same? I’m a Christian now. Up until 4 years ago I was atheist and then agnostic. ● When was your last food craving, and what did you crave? I’ve been wanting Doritos tacos from Taco Bell lately. ● Who was your first crush and what made them special? This kid named Philip when I was in 3rd grade. He was a grade or two above me. He and I were turning the jump rope for people during this event my elementary school had every year called, Jump Rope for Heart. It was to get people active and raise awareness. Anyway, he was across from me holding the other end of the rope and I just thought he was cute haha. ● Name your most cherished childhood memory. I have a lot of those. I loved my childhood. It wasn’t without struggle or obstacles, but for some reason those things aren’t what stand out the most. I was a strong, resilient kid. Kid me would be so ashamed of how weak I am now. ● Turn to an entry in your journal or diary from a year or more ago. What has changed and what has stayed the same since then? I don’t feel like looking back on old surveys right now. ● What is one thing nobody knows about you because nobody ever cared to ask? Hmm. ● Robert Frost write a poem titled The Road Not Taken. Name a road you’ve always wanted to travel. Where do you hope it takes you, and what might you see on the way? Wait, literally or metaphorically? I mean, metaphorically I’d like to take the road that takes me to working on myself and leading to some happiness and success. That’d be nice. ● Name one thing you always wanted to do, but haven’t. What has prevented you from doing it? Uhh there’s a lot of things. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time in my life each passing year. I’m just wasting away. I want to just...live. Travel more. Do something with my life. My physical health has been a contributing factor, but ultimately it’s me. It’s my mental health. That affects me more than anything else. ● Write about your first kiss. Was it everything you wished or hoped it would be? It happened behind the drama department at my high school. It unexpected and awkward, but it was my first kiss so it was all I knew. I was so giddy about having had my first kiss it didn’t matter haha. ● What was the worst mistake or decision you have ever made in life? What could you have done differently? Oh jeez. I have a lot of regrets. One that weighs heavily on me in recent years relates to my health. I’m very stubborn. I should have taken better care of myself. I should have neglected certain things. Some things don’t just go away, they get worse. And here I am, still not taking care of myself like I should be. Each passing year... ● What song was stuck in your head recently, and what were you doing at the time that made you think of it? I Love Me by Demi Lovato. I just really like the song.

● Write about something you now know that you wish you knew earlier in life. How could this knowledge have helped you? Just going back to the big thing that’s been weighing heavily on my mind these past few years that I talked about up there. ● Write about your greatest fear. Death, losing loved ones, never getting better/getting worse, and never doing anything with my life. ● Name one thing you feel brings out the good in people. Hmm. ● Describe a time in your life when everything turned out fine, despite the odds. I mean, there have been some times where things turned out to be not as bad as I thought they would be. ● If you invented a device that could fix one problem you are facing right now, would you use it? What problem would you like to solve? I’ve talked about it enough. ● Write about the last time you spoke to your best friend. What did you talk about? Last night when my mom got home from work. She was just telling me about stuff that happened at work and the latest Coronavirus news. It’s a wild time right now. All the cancellations of events, school campuses closing, and empty shelfs because people are stockpiling on hand sanitizer, face masks, and toilet paper. Italy is quarantined. I’ve never witnessed anything like this. ● Describe a time you felt alone. I feel that way a lot. I don’t spend a lot of time physically alone, but I still feel alone a lot. ● Name something you found; what was it and where did you find it? Uhh earlier I found a new ASMR channel on YouTube to watch haha. ● What’s on your calendar for tomorrow? I have a doctor appointment. ● What is the most annoying sound you have ever heard? Eating sounds make my skin crawl. ● Describe your first job. I’ve never had one. ● What is the one thing you cannot live without? Besides oxygen, food, and water; my family. And coffee. That doesn’t get lumped into food or water, coffee gets its own honorable mention. ● Quote the nicest thing anyone has ever said about you. Lane said I was strong, beautiful, brave, and rocked red hair like nobody’s business. :D ● Are you afraid of the dark? Why or why not? I can’t sleep if it’s completely dark or quiet, which is why I sleep with the TV on. I’d be scared if the electricity went out and it was dark if I was home alone. I wouldn’t go anywhere alone at night. Even with with someone I’m heightened alert. ● Describe the longest amount of time you have ever been away from home. A week. ● Write about a recent adventure or travels. I went to Disneyland for a few days last month. It was awesome. ● Who did you idolize growing up? My mom and grandma. And some celebrities at the time that were around my age like Hilary Duff. ● Name a celebrity or famous person you wish would take you out on a date. Alexander Skarsgard. ● Describe your daily routine when you get out of bed in the morning. Take my medicine, use the restroom, have coffee. ● Name one thing you have always been good at doing. Jumping to the worst case scenarios. ● What is your favorite season, and why? Fall and winter. I love the weather, the clothes, the scents, the holidays, and just the coziness of it all. ● What was the title of the last book you read? I’m currently reading, “The Girl That Vanished” by A.J. Rivers. It’s the sequel to, “The Girl in Cabin 13.” ● List your biggest regrets. I talked about one of them already. That’s enough for today. ● Have you ever seen a ghost? No. ● Describe your note-taking style and habits. Bullet points, underlining, asterisks, and highlighting. ● Do you believe that we are all here for a reason? What might the reason be? Yes. You have to figure that out for yourself, we all have a different purpose. I’m still trying to figure mine out. ● What comes to mind when someone uses the phrase prolonging the magic? I’ve never heard that phrase. ● Have you ever done something just to feel the danger, or to feel alive? Drinking, smoking weed, and taking a ride in a truck at night on a backroad at night near a levee. That was scary, but definitely an adrenaline rush. ● What is your favorite cliché? Actions speak louder than words. ● What are all your thoughts on god? I believe in God. ● How do rainy days make you feel? I love rainy days. I do the same things I do any other day, but it’s just cozy. The sound is relaxing. ● What is the most amount of money you have had at one time? A couple grand. ● Write a celebrity crush list. Alexander Skarsgard. ● What is the most amazing thing you have ever seen, heard, or experienced? I couldn’t pick just one thing. ● What effect does music have on you? It can perk me up, it can give me a little energy if I need to clean, it can make me sad, it can make me zone out, it can make me relax. ● What did you learn today? What did you learn yesterday? Uhhh. ● What 5 traits do people first notice when they meet you for the first time? I’m sure the very first thing they notice is I’m in a wheelchair. Then probably how thin I am. Then perhaps my hair and my black rimmed glasses. Maybe my freckles. ● Have you ever carved your name or initials into a tree or stone? No. ● Does Never Never Land really exist? No, sadly. “Cause Neverland is home, to lost boys like me...” ● Where is a great place to get breakfast? This local place that’s known more for their burgers, fries, and shakes, but actually have bomb breakfast, too. I love their country gravy. ● List 3 things that went right (or wrong) today. It’s only 2 in the morning, but so far I had ramen, I’m finishing up my Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink, and I’m watching/listening to an ASMR video. Not a bad start, but we’ll see how the rest of the day goes... I have a doctor appointment later that I’m not looking forward to. Afterwards my mom and I are going grocery shopping and I’ll probably pick up Wingstop on the way home. It’s been hot lately and I’ve had a nagging headache the past couple days, so I hope that isn’t the case today. ● What is the best method of travel, and in what ways have you traveled? Car and plane. ● If you could give the world just one thing, what would it be? Peace. ● What were your best and worst subjects in school or college? English throughout school, with the addition of psychology in college. My worst was always math. I struggled with science, too. Philosophy was really fucking hard. ● Describe the most outrageous thing anyone has dared you to do. I haven't really been dared to do anything too outrageous. ● Ice cream: chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry? Strawberry, but vanilla is good as well. ● What historical events happened the year you were born? Ted Bundy was electrocuted. ● Pick up a random object that has special meaning to you and describe it in as much detail as possible. I’m on my bed and there’s 2 giraffe stuffed animals, one is a big squishy one. I love all my giraffe stuffed animals, which there are a LOT of. ● Write about a recent visit to a museum or art gallery. I visited a Walt Disney museum a couple years ago. It was really cool. ● What food items do you consider staples in a well-balanced diet? I’m the wrong person to ask about well balanced diets. Well balanced for me is Wingstop, ramen, this pizza from my favorite local pizza place, scrambled eggs, and coffee. haha. ● Describe your feelings in regards to an issue in todays society, and what would be done to fix it. I talked about the coronavirus, which is a big issue and hot topic currently, and my feelings to it already. ● If you had only one wish, what would you wish for? Cures for all diseases. ● If you could tell the world just one thing, what would you say? Wash your hands! ● Share a dirty little secret about yourself (or someone else). Nah. ● Have you ever gone skinny dipping? Noooo. ● Name something you would like to devote more time to seeing or doing. I need to devote time to taking care of myself and taking some necessary steps. ● What is the name of your favorite book, magazine, or publication? I have too many favorite books. ● Describe your first car. I’ve never had my own car. I don’t drive. ● Thunderstorms… Inspiring or scary? I love them.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

don’t complicate it

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: t

warnings: none

tags: magical realism, canon compliant (not anymore! it was canon compliant in 2017), psychic abilities, phil is a psychic and dan is an embarrassment

word count: 11,289

summary: A magical realism au where everything is the same except sometimes, Phil's dreams come true. Featuring YouTuber cameos, existential crises, and a love story. (Or: It's 2017 and Dan Howell's entire universe has been flipped upside down.)

NOTE: this is not a new story! this is my first dnp fic and i’m just transferring it here to have all my shit in one place, basically. i wrote this two years ago and if i were to write it today, i’d change some stuff, but. i’m generally still pretty pleased with it! so i hope y’all get a kick out of old daye’s bad pacing and shaky dialogue

read on ao3 or here!

If there's one thing Dan knows for sure about his housemate, it's that Phil Lester is weird. He's always been weird - weird to film with, weird to listen to, even weird to look at since he's usually pulling a face for no reason or turning his hand backwards to fit in his pocket - but living with him has made Dan eternally grateful that he is so fond of Phil's weirdness, because otherwise this friendship thing just wouldn't work.

In addition to the general weirdness, Phil has more superstitions than Dan's entire family. Dan has been yelled at for putting a box of new shoes on the table, yanked away from ladders rather violently, and asked if he's angry if he leaves his cutlery crossed on his plate. It would probably be annoying, if Dan ever got seriously annoyed by the things Phil does.

It's funny instead of annoying, like most things about Phil, but Dan has to draw the line somewhere.

"What do you mean, I can't use my laptop today?" he asks Phil slowly, trying very hard not to freak out. "What have you done to it?"

"Nothing!" Phil insists. He holds up his hands like it somehow proves his innocence.

"I don't believe you," says Dan, "and I'm not going to stay off my laptop for an entire day, you absolute donkey. Give it back."

"I can't give it back to you." Phil sounds exasperated, which is the exact wrong emotion for him to be feeling after hiding Dan's laptop at ten in the morning. "If you use your laptop today, it's going to break. We can't afford another iProduct."

Dan narrows his eyes. First of all, he has his own bank account with his own money, and there is no 'we' about buying Dan a new laptop. Secondly - "My baby is perfectly fine, assuming you haven't done something to it and you're planning on replacing it before I notice."

"That would be stupid of me, of course you'd notice."

"Phil."

"Can't you just trust me?"

If it was anything else, Dan would probably let the argument drop and let Phil be weird about this, too. His laptop, though? That's off-limits.

"No, I can't," Dan says, holding out his hand. "Give me back my laptop. Right now."

Phil sighs heavily and leaves the lounge, returning after a few minutes with Dan's laptop in his hands. He hesitates when Dan reaches for it, but passes it over reluctantly.

"Just... don't click anything Felix sends you," says Phil. Dan rolls his eyes and agrees in order to placate his friend, but he has a bad habit of forgetting things Phil has told him - and can he be blamed? He has eight years' worth of Phil-specific information to retain, it can't all stay at the forefront of his mind.

That's his reasoning for clicking the link Felix emails him, despite explicitly being told not to. He inhales sharply when his screen immediately goes black.

Phil turns to look at him from the other end of the sofa, expression already resigned. "I told you not to click it, Dan!"

"What happened?" Dan asks, panicking as he tries every keyboard shortcut he knows.

"I don't know," Phil huffs and pulls out his phone. "I'll ask Felix, I suppose."

It turns out that Felix's email got hacked, because of course it did, and everyone on his contact list got an attachment full of scary computer viruses. Felix gives everyone a heads-up on Twitter, but the damage to Dan's laptop is already done.

When Dan gets back from the Apple store with bad news and a shiny new laptop, he stops in Phil's doorway and frowns. "How did you know Felix got hacked?"

"I didn't," Phil says without looking up from his own laptop. "I just had a feeling you'd break your laptop today."

"No, you told me this morning not to click on anything Felix sent me. That's more than 'a feeling', Phil." Dan struggles not to look or sound sheepish. He isn't the one who needs to explain himself, here.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Dan," says Phil.

"I want you to tell me how you knew about this," Dan insists, pointing at his shopping bag even though Phil isn't looking at him. "Did you and Felix plan this?"

That makes Phil look up. "Of course not!"

Phil is the worst liar Dan has ever met, and the hurt in his voice at being accused of murdering Dan's laptop on purpose is real enough. Dan bites his lip so that he doesn't apologise reflexively. Even if Phil had nothing to do with the death of his laptop, the fact that he knew about it beforehand is suspicious enough to withhold apologies.

"Okay, so tell me the truth," Dan says instead of apologising like his mouth wants to.

"The truth," Phil repeats, looking back down at his laptop to close the lid. "I mean, okay, but you won't believe me."

"Try me," Dan challenges.

"I had a dream about it," says Phil, making careful eye contact with Dan. "That's it, that's all that happened. I dreamed that your laptop died because of an email from Felix, and then it happened, because my dreams come true sometimes."

This is not the first time Phil has made such a claim, but it's definitely the first time he wasn't at least half joking. Dan's scoff dies in his throat at how genuine Phil is acting.

"You're not psychic, Phil," Dan says slowly.

"Of course I'm not." Phil rolls his eyes, and Dan has a moment of relief before Phil adds, "I'm clairvoyant."

"Those are the same thing!"

"They actually aren't, interestingly enough. See -"

"Please stop," Dan groans, holding up a hand. "Stop right there. I don't believe in any of this nonsense, and you know that. I'd sooner believe you became a master hacker overnight and sent me that virus yourself as an expensive and unfunny prank."

Hurt flashes across Phil's face before annoyance takes over, and he shrugs. "Believe whatever you want, Dan. You asked for the truth and I told you."

"Your 'truth'," says Dan, air quotes difficult with a shopping bag but necessary, "is scientifically impossible."

"Fine, I won't tell you about my dreams anymore," Phil huffs, standing up to pointedly start getting ready for bed.

"Well, good," Dan says after a long pause. Phil doesn't deign to reply to his cutting wit, so Dan goes to his own bedroom and starts setting up his new baby. The first thing he does once he can start using it is type in the word 'clairvoyant'.

Google doesn't tell him anything he doesn't already know, so that's a non-starter. He ends up in a Reddit thread about premonitions during sleep, and even though the stories are interesting, they can't be true. That isn't how the universe works.

There's a lot about the universe that Dan doesn't understand. He knows that better than anyone, and it's the cause of many a crisis in his life.

Magic, though? Fortune telling? That's just factually wrong.

Dan decides, when he hears birds start to sing and realises he's spent all night in a Google vortex again, that what Phil experienced was nothing more than a coincidence.

It has to be a coincidence, or a joke, or else Dan is going to lay facedown on the floor for an entire week.

Phil is acting weirder than usual.

They're recording for a danisnotonfire video that Dan isn't sure yet if he actually wants to upload, and Phil keeps looking over his shoulder and reacting to every small noise outside their building. After ten minutes of this, Dan tells him to stop the camera for his own sanity.

"I can't use any of that," he says like he wasn't second-guessing the idea already. "You're so jumpy! Did you play spooky games without me?"

"No," says Phil.

He doesn't elaborate, which forces Dan to respond with a slow, "Okay, so why are you acting like a small rodent?"

Phil opens his mouth, probably to bicker about exactly what he's doing, but he's interrupted by the sound of someone banging on their front door. As if this is what he's been expecting, Phil leaps to his feet and bolts out of Dan's bedroom.

"That was weird," Dan tells the camera. It's no longer recording, but he has no one else to commiserate the weirdness of Phil Lester with.

While he waits for Phil to get back, he wonders who's at the door. It's not like they have many friends in the city, and the ones they have tend to text or call before showing up. Louise always says it's so she doesn't 'interrupt anything', which Dan tries not to read too deeply into.

Dan gets bored and follows Phil down the stairs, where he hears a loud and familiar voice drifting up from the entrance.

"- and I'm only trying to get to Dublin, right, but Heathrow decided I was suspicious somehow and I make inappropriate jokes when I'm uncomfortable - stop laughing - so they detained me and I missed my flight!"

"And we're the only people you know in London?" Dan hears Phil ask, and he sounds amused but not at all surprised. Which is weird, because Markiplier being in London without warning is pretty surprising stuff.

"I don't know anyone else's address," Mark admits, sounding good-natured despite an apparently difficult airport adventure. "Yours is in my phone, but I don't remember putting it there."

"Pretty sure I added it at VidCon this year," Phil says, starting to climb the stairs. "I had a feeling you'd need our sofa at some point."

That's a sufficient enough explanation for Mark, who has moved onto asking what they have in the way of coffee and food, but Dan hurries back up to his room to have a minor mental breakdown. He checks Mark's twitter and Facebook, but there's no mention of a trip, and it wouldn't make sense for Phil and Mark to have planned this to trick Dan, with the way they were talking downstairs.

So how did Phil know that Mark was coming? Why did he have a feeling, months ago, that Mark would need to know the address of someone in London at some point?

It doesn't make any logical sense. This isn't a joke or a coincidence, it's just really fucking weird.

Dan eyes his floor, considering lying down on it, but they have a guest. Existential crises are not proper host etiquette. Still, he waits for Phil to shout his name before getting out of bed and confronting this very strange turn of events.

Maybe the universe doesn't work scientifically at all. Maybe scientists are just people who make shit up and act like it's the truth, because Dan is starting to think that Phil might not have been lying at all.

He doesn't get a chance to say anything to Phil, between getting shot down for an impromptu collab - "No offence, boys, but I'm on vacation, maybe on my way back!" - introducing Mark to their current favourite anime - "Fuck you, I'm not crying." - and setting Mark up on the sofabed in their gaming room - "It's too small for either of us, but you're about a foot shorter, aren't you?" - until they're walking downstairs together in comfortable silence, arms brushing.

"You knew Mark was coming," Dan says, not bothering to make it a question.

"Yeah," says Phil.

Dan appreciates that Phil doesn't try to lie, but it only adds to the paranoia that's been building all day. "And like, you already knew about that? At VidCon?"

"You were listening?" Phil asks with a surprised grin as they reach their main landing.

"Irrelevant," Dan sniffs, crossing his arms.

Phil laughs at him, but it's not mean. Sometimes Dan thinks that Phil doesn't have a mean bone in his entire body.

"Yeah, I had this dream at VidCon," Phil leans against his bedroom doorframe, "and Mark was wandering around London without a travel plan on his phone, trying to find a hotel he could afford. I just thought it would be easier and more fun for him to come here."

"And you had the same dream last night," guesses Dan.

"No, last night I dreamed he ate all my cereal, which only makes sense if he's in our apartment."

"Good, you deserve to have your cereal eaten," Dan says automatically, because that's something he understands. The universe might get turned on its head if Phil is actually magic, but at least Dan can find comfort in the fact that he's still a cereal thief.

"Shut up," Phil laughs and reaches out to push Dan's chest lightly.

His hand lingers, but Dan is far more concerned about the fact that Phil might be psychic.

"I want to hear about your dreams." Dan knows as he says it that this is a mistake, that if magic exists and it isn't being used to his advantage, the world will be a scarier place than it already was.

"All of them?" Phil asks, still smiling. "Or just the clairvoyant ones?"

"You can tell the difference?"

"Sure. I mean, if it's realistic or boring, it's probably going to come true. My regular dreams are frickin' cool."

Dan can feel a grin tugging at his lips. "I suppose if they're so 'frickin' cool', I want to hear about those dreams too."

"Cool," Phil giggles a little and steps away from his doorframe, looking more relaxed than he has in days around Dan. "I'll keep a detailed dream journal just for you."

"You'd better," Dan says faux-sternly.

This entire situation is one of the most unsettling things Dan has ever experienced, but the bright smile on Phil's face when he says goodnight is worth every panic attack Dan is going to have about the makeup of the known universe. He seems so happy to be believed that Dan wonders if Phil has ever told anyone about this in so much detail.

Probably. Phil is basically an open book, after all.

If it makes Dan feel better to pretend as he's falling asleep that Phil has confided something in him that he's never divulged before, nobody has to know.

Dan wakes up before noon on his own, for once, and he startles when he sees someone in his kitchen before remembering that they have a guest. Yawning, he opens the kitchen door and greets Mark with a distorted, "Morning."

"Hey," Mark grins, leaning against the counter with a bowl of Phil's cereal. "You think Phil's gonna mind if I finish this?"

"Course not," says Dan, "you're the guest."

They both maintain a straight face for a couple seconds before Mark breaks and causes Dan to start laughing too. It's always comfortable to hang out with Mark, but Dan would be lying if he said he liked having guests spend the night. He doesn't like the feeling of someone being in his apartment while he's asleep.

It's nice, then, to be reminded that Mark is funny, and warm, and leaving in a couple of hours.

"So, you're going to see Jack?" Dan asks, because Phil had elbowed him every time he tried to ask the night before. "Shit, I mean, Sean."

"I fuck that up constantly," Mark admits, rinsing his bowl in the sink. "Yeah, I'm spending the weekend at his place. We're trying not to make a big deal of it, because - well, you know."

"I do?" Dan raises his eyebrows and starts making coffee for three.

"Obviously." Mark points at the mug that Dan pulled out for Phil, the one with Daddy emblazoned across it.

"That's a joke," Dan says automatically.

Mark starts laughing again, far too loud for the subject matter and time of day. "Bro, I know it's a joke. I meant you obviously know why we're keeping it on the down-low because you also have crazy shipper fans who think you guys are going to get married and die in each other's arms."

"I prefer to think of them as 'dedicated'," Dan says, turning away from Mark until the heat in his cheeks settles down. "But yeah, I get it."

"Didn't mean to make it weird, dude," Mark says apologetically. Apparently Dan didn't hide his face fast enough. "I figured you were, like, comfortable joking about it."

"I am." Dan glances at the kitchen door, paranoid that Phil is listening and getting the wrong impression. "For a second I just thought you were saying that you and Jack are together, and then I felt stupid when I realised you just meant the fan speculation."

The ensuing quiet is strange, considering his conversation partner, but Dan doesn't look up from the mugs.

"Wait," Mark touches Dan's shoulder to get his attention. "Wait, hang on, are you saying that you and Phil are in a relationship?"

"No, but I guess we're closer to it than not," Dan half-jokes. "So sometimes I forget we aren't."

It's the truth, but it seems to shock Mark into silence.

The fact of the matter is that Dan knows who he's going to spend the rest of his life with. He knows, despite everything, that Phil is the most important person in his life and probably always will be. Nothing about them has ever been on the down-low, because they have nothing to hide, but there are times when it slips Dan's mind that the fans aren't onto something.

After coffee is poured and Dan has drank half of his own for something to do with his hands, Mark finally speaks. "I don't think Sean and I are thaaaat close, so I get why the joke was weird coming from me. Also, I'm pretty sure you should tell Phil that you want to be with him."

Dan nearly spits coffee onto the floor.

"What?"

"I know it's not my business," Mark says with a shrug, "but it sure seems like you're pining."

"I am not pining," says Dan, affronted.

"You totally are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are - look, I'm not getting into this with you." Mark looks like he's trying very hard not to laugh, and Dan glares at him. "I'm just saying that I'm never going to just randomly forget that Sean and I aren't in a relationship. and it's weird that you do."

"Phil being my platonic life partner is the least weird thing in my life," Dan says dismissively. Mark rolls his eyes.

"Whatever you say, dude," says Mark.

To Dan's relief, he lets the topic drop for the next few hours. They play Mario Kart until their shouting wakes Phil, and then they take turns kicking Phil's ass. Phil is pretty good-natured about the whole thing.

As fun as Mark is to be around, Dan is relieved to see him to the door. He doesn't need any more of the pointed looks Mark keeps sending his way whenever he grabs Phil's arm in excitement or leans in close to psych him out.

"You should come round again sometime," Phil is suggesting as they gather awkwardly in the small bottom landing.

"On purpose next time," Mark agrees, giving each of them a one-armed hug. It's nice - Mark is a champion hugger, even while holding a duffel bag.

"It was good seeing you," Dan says truthfully. "Next time, maybe a heads up?"

"Nah, I think I'll be spontaneous again."

"What if we're not home?"

"That's a good one, Dan."

"You'll miss your flight if you keep bickering," Phil interrupts with a laugh. He squeezes Mark's shoulder and cryptically adds, "Don't eat the sandwiches on the flight. It'll make you sick."

"Okay," Mark says easily, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. "I'll see you boys around."

The ensuing quiet in Mark's wake is welcome, but all Dan can think about is how close together he and Phil have to stand in order to fit on this landing. Thanks to the proximity, he can see uncharacteristic bags under Phil's eyes.

Dan reaches out to press the pads of his fingers gently against Phil's skin there and hums, "Mark being sick kept you up?"

"No," Phil says with an indulgent smile.

"You promised to tell me about your dreams," Dan reminds him when Phil shows no sign of continuing. He's probably been touching Phil's face for too long, so he lets his hand awkwardly drop to his side.

Still smiling, Phil shrugs. "It wasn't that interesting, Dan. Just hard to figure out."

"I can help," says Dan.

He wants Phil to confide in him, even about the weird things. As much as this situation freaks him out, and it's a lot, Dan doesn't like Phil keeping anything from him.

"I just remember being anxious, and I couldn't figure out why," Phil admits at long last, sitting down on the steps. "I wasn't at home or anywhere familiar, which just made it worse."

"Were we travelling?" Dan asks, leaning back against their front door instead of sitting beside Phil on the narrow steps, like he wants to.

Phil grins and shakes his head. "You just assume you were there, huh?"

"Of course I was there," says Dan.

"You were." Phil's grin widens as he looks down at his hands. "Obviously you were there. You kept telling me to calm down, but I couldn't, and then you left the room."

"I left?" Dan asks in disbelief. "I literally left?"

Just another piece of evidence supporting the fact that Phil does not have psychic dreams - Dan wouldn't leave Phil alone when he was in the middle of freaking out, that would never happen. When Phil is freaking out, the only thing that calms him is having someone talk him through the situation.

"Yeah, that's what confused me," Phil hums. "You don't usually leave."

"I never leave," Dan corrects him.

Phil looks up at him with an expression that Dan can only categorize as, well, fond. It's the expression that somehow means 'you're an idiot' and 'I'm glad we're doing this together' at the same time. The internet has probably labelled it as something else, since there's a good chance the expression has been caught on film, but Dan doesn't think anything will describe it quite as well as fond.

The moment is stretching into something harder to laugh off, and Dan has to clear his throat before the quiet becomes suffocating.

"Alright, did you figure out why dream-me left you alone?"

"No, but I'm sure you have a good reason," says Phil in a soft voice. He stands and stretches, purposefully breaking eye contact with Dan. "You fancy a tea?"

Dan shakes his head and watches Phil climb their narrow stairs, wondering if there's something Phil isn't telling him.

Phil's smile disappears as soon as Dan turns the camera off, which isn't unusual when their filming takes a long time, but Dan gets worried when Phil sighs and puts his head down on the desk.

"You okay?" Dan asks, resting his fingertips on Phil's shoulder.

"I'm tired," says Phil into the wooden surface, "and I keep having bad dreams whenever I try to rest."

This isn't news to Dan, as Phil has been keeping him in the dream loop for the past couple weeks, but Dan didn't realize it was getting so bad. He feels guilt settle in his stomach for not noticing before Phil faceplanted into their desk.

"Is there anything that usually helps? Like, stops you from dreaming altogether? I think we still have that vanilla vodka from New Year's, that usually conks me out."

Phil tilts his head on the desk to give Dan an indulgent smile. "No, getting drunk doesn't help."

"That's a shame," says Dan.

"I don't know, nothing really stops me from dreaming," Phil says when it's obvious that Dan isn't changing the subject. "Like, I guess there are things that help make the dreams blurry and more fun to be in, but I've never woken up and thought, 'wow, I didn't have a single dream last night'."

"That sounds... exhausting," Dan admits. He has more dreamless nights than not; he thinks that if he had dreams every night and also, some of them might come true, he'd go mad.

Phil doesn't bother to respond to that, because obviously it's exhausting, but he sighs again and closes his eyes.

"You can't sleep here, c'mon," Dan murmurs, squeezing Phil's shoulder before standing up. "I'm sure your bed will be more comfortable than wood."

"Your mum is more comfortable than wood," Phil says, nonsensically.

With a bit more prodding and cajoling, Dan gets Phil to his feet and guides him down the stairs so he doesn't wipe out. Phil wrinkles his nose when he looks at his bedroom, so Dan finds himself saying, "Will it help to sleep in my bed? It's not like I'm using it right now."

"Why would that help?" Phil asks, which isn't a no.

"Change of scenery," Dan suggests, opening his door and gesturing for Phil to go in. "Make yourself at home - within reason, like."

"I'm going to snoop through everything," Phil threatens weakly. Dan rolls his eyes and gives Phil a gentle shove into his room. "Okay, okay. Thanks."

Dan stands in the doorway long enough to make sure that Phil gets to the bed without colliding with anything before turning to leave. He normally stays in his room for a good portion of the day, but he doesn't mind taking up the browsing position in their lounge so Phil can get some actual sleep.

Before he can walk away, though, Phil mumbles something that makes him pause.

"What's that?" Dan asks without turning around - just in case Phil hadn't said anything at all.

"Will you stay?" Phil repeats. His voice is quiet and muffled by Dan's comforter, but the request is unmistakable.

Dan isn't sure how this will help, but he smiles over his shoulder and says, "Sure. Let me grab my laptop from the kitchen, I'll be right back."

Considering the exhaustion, he expects Phil to be asleep by the time he gets back with his baby, but Phil's half-closed eyes watch Dan hesitate and look between the desk and bed uncertainly. He doesn't say anything to guide Dan, which is annoying, and Dan ends up making a frustrated noise before flopping onto the far side of his bed and opening Tumblr.

Phil makes a contented noise and curls around Dan, close enough that Dan can feel his body heat but not quite touching. Dan isn't sure if he should feel relieved or disappointed.

It's easy to get lost in the void of Tumblr, and it isn't until Dan gets a text that he realises actual hours have passed. He doesn't want to disturb Phil, but he thinks it might be worse if Phil's sleeping schedule gets all out of whack, so he shakes Phil awake before checking his phone.

"Huh?" Phil bleats, startling awake and blinking a lot.

He has a half-quiff and his eyes are redder than usual. Maybe he should have taken his contacts out before napping, but Dan refuses to feel guilty about that because Phil is a grown man and has been able to take his contacts out without reminders in the past.

"Your nap was becoming a coma," Dan says, picking up his phone before he forgets to check the text.

"Oh," Phil says around a yawn, curling further into Dan so his head is sort of resting on Dan's tummy. "I'm sorry for taking over your bed."

"It's fine, you doofus," says Dan. He's paying more attention to the fact that his mum actually texted him than this conversation, and that's his excuse for carding his fingers through Phil's weird sleep quiff.

Phil doesn't seem to mind or even find it weird. It would probably be weirder to stop doing it now that he's started, so Dan just keeps absently petting Phil as he reads through the strangely long text from his mother.

"What're you looking at?" Phil asks into Dan's shirt.

"Mum texted."

It's such an unusual occurrence that Phil rearranges his entire body in order to stare at Dan whilst keeping his head on Dan's stomach.

"Your mum or my mum?"

"My mum," says Dan, and when did the word 'mum' turn into something that needed clarification in his life?

This is what he'd meant, when he told Mark that sometimes he and Phil are more like a couple than not. He can't picture any of his other friends in this situation, can't even fathom having his hand in someone's hair and talking about their shared mums in bed if there wasn't a romantic element.

With Phil, though, this is just what their friendship is like. Dan honestly isn't sure if things would be easier with said added romantic element, because things are already so easy.

"Dan?" Phil is saying, his voice slightly raised, and Dan guesses that Phil's been trying to get his attention for a while.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said what does she want?"

"Um," Dan looks back down at his phone, trying to collect his thoughts and hide his flushing face, "my family's going on holiday, so she wanted to let me know."

Phil plucks the phone out of Dan's hand and ignores the squawking protests to sigh, "Dan, she also asked you to water her plants."

"So?"

"So, you have a job in London," Phil says, his lips pursing unhappily. "She always thinks you have free time."

Cheeks burning, Dan snatches his phone back and pushes both Phil and his laptop off of him. He doesn't need to be told that his family doesn't take his job seriously, he knows that already.

"Will you come to Reading with me or not?" Dan asks, swinging his legs out of bed and stretching to avoid looking at Phil's apologetic face.

"Course I will," says Phil. "Are we going for a day or the whole time they're gone?"

The idea of spending an entire week in his childhood home is unappealing to Dan, so he responds that he'd prefer only staying over for one night. With any luck, he won't run into anyone he knows while he's there.

Phil doesn't push the topic. He knows when to stop, when all he'll get from Dan is sullen glances and 'I don't want to talk about it, Phil' if he says one more time that Dan might be happier if he tried building stronger relationships in his family.

It's no wonder that Phil doesn't get it, since the Lesters have basically adopted Dan as one of their own.

That's not who the Howells are, though; they aren't sunny and jokey, they don't watch his videos and text him thumbs up emojis, they don't invite Phil over without prompting.

Dan loves them all the same. Of course he loves them, they're his family.

It's just that - when Dan gets homesick, it isn't for Reading. It isn't for Manchester or this crappy London flat either, really. Sure, he misses his sofa crease and the cracks in his bedroom ceiling when they're on the road, but only until the next moment that Phil catches his eye and grins brighter than the sun.

Dan doesn't get homesick often.

"I can't even read your writing." Dan tries very hard to sound exasperated when all he wants to do is laugh.

"My writing is so much better than yours!" Phil says defensively, making grabby hands at his dream journal. "A dramatic reading of my dreams was not included in this deal."

"It should be, that sounds hilarious."

Dan doesn't give the journal back, because he's just winding Phil up. He flips open to the last page, ignoring Phil's annoyed squawk of a noise that he's only capable of making before his morning coffee, and starts reading.

Lots of the dream descriptions are straight-up impossible; Dan notices that there are stars marking the most realistic entries and a fair few with just a giant question mark. He also can't help but notice that there are places where pages have clearly been torn out. Judging by the dates on some of the earlier entries, Phil has had this journal for months longer than Dan expected, and Dan wonders what Phil wanted to keep to himself.

To be fair, he's had plenty of dreams that he would rather Phil never heard about, but he also would have never written them down in the first place.

Phil leaves the lounge to make coffee at one point, returning quietly with two mugs just when Dan thinks he's had enough of reading older dreams that have already come true. He closes the journal and accepts his coffee before mumbling, "Thanks. Did you make some of these up?"

"No," says Phil, rolling his eyes.

"These ones have happened," Dan says unnecessarily. "You should really keep better track of which dreams have passed."

Before Phil can say anything, Dan fishes for a pen between their sofa cushions and puts a checkmark beside a dream about Dil becoming a nightmarish crafts project.

"Oi, don't mark up my journal," Phil says, but he makes no effort to take the journal or pen from Dan.

Dan ignores him to ask, "How do you not live in constant fear?"

"I dunno." Phil is shrugging when Dan looks up with an expression of disbelief. "I mean, I don't usually dream about anything bad, so it's not like I have death and devastation hanging over my head all the time - unlike you. Don't hit me, I have coffee!"

The train to Reading isn't long, especially compared to some of the treks Dan has had to do with a caffeinated Phil at his side, but he still hates every second of it.

It makes him feel younger, and he isn't sure if he likes that feeling. Young Dan was embarrassing and judgemental and so, so terrified that he wouldn't be liked by anyone that he made a lot of choices to make other people happy.

Plus, he can't move the whole journey, since Phil has decided to fall asleep on his shoulder.

Phil's steady breaths are normally quite calming, but he keeps mumbling things that Dan can't quite catch, and it’s driving him crazy.

He never used to care this much about dreams, even his own, but he thinks that the paranoia is justified here.

This whole clairvoyance thing has made Dan incredibly anxious. He can't help but wonder what other things in this universe he doesn't understand, if a form of magic is real. Part of him hopes that this is all an elaborate prank - he'd be mad at first, but it would be better for his mental health all around.

When the train finally starts slowing down, Dan gently shakes Phil's shoulder.

"Dan?" Phil mumbles, not sounding fully awake.

"Yeah, 's me."

Something about the moment that Phil blinks up at Dan without moving from his shoulder causes the breath in Dan's throat to catch.

"I had such a weird dream," Phil confides. "Like, an actually weird dream. Tyler Oakley was doing a collab with Leatherface."

"Sounds harrowing," says Dan.

"It was, a bit," Phil says on a yawn, sitting up properly and blinking at the train window. "Oh, I didn't mean to sleep the whole trip! You must have been so bored. I'm really sorry, Dan."

"The quiet was a nice change," Dan says instead of admitting that he was in fact very bored without Phil's chatter, "and you needed the sleep."

"I did," Phil agrees, before pulling out his phone to check his fringe in the camera app.

"Shut up, you look fine."

"Wow, Reading puts you in a bad mood. We haven't even got off the train yet and you're a grumpleton."

Dan doesn't grace that comment with a response, as Phil is right anyway - Reading does put him in a bad mood. He just stands up and nudges a still-sleepy Phil to do the same when the train is stopped completely.

They take a cab to Dan's family home and Phil talks the entire time about absolutely nothing. Dan appreciates it; the chatter helps him tune out his surroundings so he isn't thinking about the time he threw up on that bench over there or when he got caught shoplifting at the nearest corner store.

Walking into his parents' house is always so weird, because Dan half expects it to have stayed the same since the last holiday he visited. Obviously, it never does.

Part of Dan can't help but think of their books, proudly displayed on the Lesters' coffee table, while looking at the cringey graduation photo on the wall of his own parents' lounge.

Somebody else is growing up here now, is the thing. The photos of Dan on the wall have been the same for five years, but Adrian is still going through the motions of becoming a person, and it's weird for Dan to see that happen in chunks.

"He's getting so old, it's weird," Phil voices, looking at the new photos next to Dan's awful ones.

"Tell me about it," says Dan. "We are all dying."

Phil laughs, because that's what he does when Dan makes a joke about death, and carries his bag upstairs. Since he's feeling listless and like a stranger in his own family home, Dan follows.

Dan was upset with me? is the latest thing written in the dream journal that Dan sneaks out of Phil's bag when he can't sleep. It doesn't help.

When Dan wakes up in his old bed, the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds in an all-too-familiar way, he has a moment of absolute panic that he's gone back in time - honestly, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing in his life right now - but he’s too long for his bed and he can hear Phil singing in the kitchen.

Dan only has a couple of hours before their train leaves, so he pushes himself out of bed and doesn't bother with getting dressed to water his mum's plants. On his way downstairs he calls out, "Good morning."

"Afternoon!" Phil's voice comes back, bright and loud and not suited for Dan's old house at all.

"Can you get me some water?" Dan asks as he ambles into the kitchen.

"For you or the houseplants?"

"Both, I guess."

"I already fed the houseplants," Phil says with a smile, opening wrong cupboards until he finds a cup. "You want lunch?"

Swallowing around the sudden, inexplicable lump in his throat, Dan murmurs an affirmative. There's something about Phil making himself so at home in a place he hasn't been overly welcomed that is making Dan feel some kind of way that he isn't prepared to deal with at this time of day.

His parents like Phil well enough, but they don't really understand him; they don't understand the person he helped Dan become, either.

Even if Phil is feeling weird here, he's going out of his way to make Dan feel comfortable.

"Why was I upset with you?" asks Dan. His voice is almost too quiet, and he watches as Phil's fingers slip on the loaf of bread he's slicing. "In your dream, I mean. I couldn't sleep so I - yeah."

"I'm not mad you looked," Phil says over his shoulder, "since I made it for you and all."

Dan knows that isn't true from the dates and level of detail in the journal, but he isn't about to call Phil out.

"Well, that's good. So?"

With a heavy sigh, Phil starts to spread peanut butter on bread for Dan - the exact amount that Dan prefers, not that he notices.

"I'm really not sure," Phil says slowly, not looking at Dan. "Remember when I had that dream about me freaking out and you leaving? It was like, the exact same, except you were really upset that I was freaking out instead of trying to calm me down."

"That doesn't sound like me," says Dan.

Phil shrugs and holds out Dan's finished sandwich in response. Dan has to stop himself from squeezing Phil's hip in thanks like he usually does, because Dan is half naked and they're in his old house and he thinks it might be weirder here and now. Then he thinks maybe it's weirder if he doesn't do it, but Phil has started moving towards the lounge before he decides.

Around a mouthful of peanut butter, Dan asks, "How many times have you had this dream?"

"A few," Phil says as he flops his whole body onto the sofa. He leaves enough room for Dan to sit near his feet, which is considerate of him.

"Have you considered that it might just be... a dream?"

"I have done," says Phil, "but it just feels so real, you know? And it's been the same weird room, not on like Jupiter or something."

"I'm not sure what we'd have to argue about on Jupiter," Dan muses out loud. If Dan is honest with himself, he can't think of anything in the entire universe that would make him angry at Phil during what sounds like a panic attack.

"Maybe I stole your space cereal," Phil jokes, poking Dan's thigh with his toes.

Dan wants to say that he wouldn't be legitimately angry over cereal, that he's never been more than irritated by it, that he plays his reaction up for his own entertainment, that almost anything he buys is for Phil too, but all that seems too serious for the moment.

Instead, he cracks a joke and changes the subject so he can make Phil smile for a little while longer.

It happens so slowly that Dan doesn't even notice until it's already out of hand.

They've been back from Reading for a week, and Phil has been acting weirder than usual the entire time. Dan didn't see this as a reason for concern, because sometimes Phil is weird for no reason, but when he catches Phil eating his cereal and the first thing out of Phil's mouth is a frantic "sorry!" instead of his usual squawk of "don't look at me!", Dan gets concerned.

"Phil," he says slowly, running a hand through his bedhead and trying to act more awake than he is, "I don't actually give a fuck if you eat my cereal."

"You don't?" Phil immediately puts his hand back into the box, the little shit.

"I mean, it's annoying, but you looked like a startled deer just now," Dan says around a yawn. "I'm not going to yell at you."

An emotion passes over Phil's face too fast for Dan's tired brain to categorize it. Phil shrugs a shoulder and looks back at the box of Crunchy Nut like he's deciding whether or not he wants to eat more.

He's been like this all week, careful and anxious and avoidant, and Dan doesn't know what to do. If he confronts Phil about it, Phil will just deny everything and try too hard to be normal - Dan remembers 2012 vividly - but he doesn't want to encourage this behaviour either.

"Are you alright?" he asks, hoping the simple question won't spook Phil.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean... you're being weird."

"I'm always weird, Dan."

Dan decides to drop it for the time being. The last thing he wants to do is push Phil further into this weirdness by interrogating him.

"How did you sleep?" he asks instead, noticing the way Phil's shoulders relax when he changes the subject.

"Pretty good, thanks," says Phil, "my dreams were boring but, like, peaceful."

It only takes a bit of prompting from Dan before Phil gives him a play-by-play of his dreams, and since they're as boring as advertised, Dan lets himself zone out and worry about Phil on his own time.

Phil doesn't get any less weird after that, but he tries harder to cover it. Since Dan is a good friend, he pretends like he doesn't know that Phil is still jumpy and anxious underneath the bad jokes.

Honestly, it sucks. Dan wishes that Phil would just open up and say what's on his mind so they can both move on.

That is, until Phil freaks the fuck out.

See, they've been looking at bigger places to live for a few months now, but they have time until their lease is up so they're in no rush.

Dan gets a notification for an available duplex a few weeks after he tried getting an answer out of Phil, and it looks confusingly laid out but otherwise a good fit. It's exciting, but he hesitates before texting Phil about it - does he really want to play the 'everything is normal' game while meeting a potential landlord? For all he knows, Phil is going to come across as a serial killer.

Instead, he texts Louise. She responds with more emojis than characters, but agrees to check the place out with Dan.

The duplex has so much room that Dan has a startled moment of bewilderment. Does he own enough furniture to fill this place? Before he can voice the concern, Louise waves him off with an easy, "Stop worrying, you dingleberry."

"I'm not worried," Dan lies.

Louise rolls her eyes and starts snooping in the closets. "Oh, blimey, can I keep some of my things here?"

"No," says Dan, although he's sure that at least one of his closets will be taken over by Darcy's old toys and Louise's heels. "Me and Phil need the storage for all our miscellaneous shit."

"You could always, I don't know, get rid of some," Louise suggests.

"Maybe during the move we will," Dan allows, gently guiding her out of the closet before the landlord gets concerned.

Aside from a few awkward moments - inevitable, with Louise at his side - Dan thinks that the tour goes really well. He likes the space, the road is blissfully free of loud noises, and the landlord doesn't immediately think he's in adult films when he mentions where lights could go.

Dan likes it so much that he's reluctant to leave, but Louise reminds him that he isn't the only person whose opinion on the house matters.

"You know Phil has to live here too, right?" she says with a laugh when Dan starts asking pointed questions about when the place will be empty. Dan makes an exaggerated huff of a noise.

"He'll take what I bring home and he'll like it."

The landlord gives them an indulgent smile. "We can arrange another day for you to bring your boyfriend by, see if he likes it here?"

"Sure," Dan says automatically, trying to ignore his heart beating faster and Louise staring a hole into the side of his head. He knows that a Talk is coming. "I'll talk to him about it tonight. Thanks for, y'know, having us."

Dan hopes that ignoring Louise on the way to the tube will delay the Talk, but Louise is not easily deterred.

"Boyfriend, eh?" she asks in a lilting voice, elbowing Dan in the side.

"Shut up, it was easier than explaining."

"I actually think that it wouldn't be hard to say 'Phil's my friend and roommate'." Louise, he thinks, sounds far too amused by this situation. "Now if you get the place, your landlord will think you're a couple the whole time!"

"Would that be so weird?" Dan asks. "I mean. It's what people already think when they meet us, and sometimes I forget that we aren't."

Months ago, Dan had said the same thing to Mark; he doesn't expect Louise to react much differently.

"Well, duh," Louise says matter-of-factly, "because you love him."

Dan almost walks into a telephone pole. "Excuse me?"

"Don't be daft, you light up every time he comes in the room," says Louise. "Plus, I can feel your heart rate speed up."

"You can... feel that?"

Wrinkling her nose, Louise shakes her head. "Maybe sense is a better word, but your emotions are so much louder when Phil's around. It's given me migraines in the past, you know."

"Exactly how many of my friends have magic powers and why don't I?" Dan exclaims. He resists throwing his arms in the air dramatically, but only just.

"Ooh, who else?"

"That isn't the point! What the ever-living fuck, Louise? You can sense emotions?"

"Only really strong ones," Louise says with a shrug, like that isn't a big fucking deal. "That's how I know when you do something awkward that makes you want to die - honestly, I thought I already told you this!"

"If you did tell me," says Dan, "I would have assumed you were joking."

Louise rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone as if Dan is boring her. "That sounds like a you problem, then."

She changes the subject when they get to busier streets, chattering about her new boyfriend while Dan, once again, re-evaluates his entire worldview.

So, Phil freaking the fuck out.

It takes Dan by surprise, because Phil seems excited by the prospect of more storage and less drilling, but he tenses up as soon as they walk inside the duplex. The landlord doesn't notice, busy repeating the same things that Dan has already heard and gesturing at all the closet space.

Dan doesn't want to draw attention to Phil's weird stiffness, so he makes idle conversation until the landlord leaves to take a phone call.

"Are you okay?" he asks, reaching for Phil's arm.

It's one of the most bewildering moments Dan has ever experienced - and that includes recent magical discoveries - when Phil jerks away from his hand like he's going to be burned.

"I don't - I don't -" Phil stammers, his eyes wide as saucers, "- I mean, it's that - I know this place."

Dan feels useless with his hands at his sides. "Did you see it online?"

"No, I - in my dreams, I -"

It clicks.

"Phil, are you panicking because you had dreams about panicking here?" Dan asks slowly. He doesn't want to laugh or show any irritation in case it makes Phil's hands start to tremble even more, but this is a little funny and a lot annoying. "You know that's such a catch-22, right?"

The look of absolute distress that Phil gives him says that yes, he knows that very well, but he doesn't seem to be able to stop hyperventilating.

Dan sighs and runs a hand through his own hair, letting his fringe do whatever it wants when he does.

"Okay, mate? I'm going to tell the landlord that you aren't feeling well and that we're leaving so that you can have a panic attack in peace. I'm not in any way leaving you alone because I'm mad or because I hate you, alright?"

Phil gives him a shaky thumbs up before covering his face with both hands and making audible attempts to breathe deeply.

The last thing Dan wants to do is leave Phil alone like this, but he does. He doesn't want a potential landlord thinking that they're batshit, after all, so he relays the not-feeling-well lie and comes back to lead Phil outside by the elbow. Instant relief washes over Dan when Phil allows the physical contact.

"You're so weird," says Dan.

He means it to come out as exasperated yet still fond, keeping grip on Phil's elbow for his own peace of mind, but something about Phil struggling to breathe evenly has Dan sounding unexpectedly soft.

To his surprise, Phil huffs a breathy laugh. "Thanks, I think? And thanks for, um, not leaving me alone for long."

"I told you that didn't sound like me," Dan says, squeezing Phil's arm, "you've been trying to avoid a fight that was never going to happen, you absolute knob."

Phil laughs again, loud and genuine. He's starting to sound more like his regular self, so Dan lets go of him to hail down a taxi. It would be silly to put his hand back immediately, Dan thinks, because if Phil's panic attack is over, he has no real excuse to continue touching him. He opens the taxi door for Phil and clamps down on every instinct that wants to help him in - Phil is thirty years old and capable of getting into a car on his own, thanks ever so - and folds his own hands on his lap once they're both buckled in.

"I quite liked that place, actually," Phil admits. He's twiddling his thumbs, and Dan is proud of himself for not putting his hand atop both of Phil's to make him stop. "Do you think they'll let us come back?"

"They seemed to like me," Dan says, because making a good first impression is a point of pride.

"Maybe they'll only rent to you, then," Phil says in the cadence of a joke.

Even though Phil is finally himself again, Dan can hear the uncertain edge to his words. After all, neither of them need a roommate anymore.

Dan looks out the taxi window so it doesn't feel like an admission when he says, "No, we're a package deal. The landlord knows. Honestly, I'm pretty sure everyone knows."

There's an eerie silence from Phil beside him, but Dan focuses completely on the scenery changing to more familiar buildings. The cabbie isn't paying attention, thank the lord, so Dan isn't completely mortified by having this conversation in front of a stranger.

He's still slightly mortified.

It feels like an honest-to-God jumpscare when Phil puts his hand on Dan's knee and squeezes - Dan is pretty sure the noise that startles out of him isn't human.

Phil laughs, not unkindly, and leaves his hand there. "Yeah, I suppose we are."

"You're not acting weird anymore," Dan observes later that week as they wait for a Sims lot to load.

"No, you were right about that dream," Phil says with a sheepish smile. "You didn't get mad like I kept expecting you to, but be honest - you were definitely annoyed."

"Of course I was annoyed, you made yourself panic," Dan says with a fond roll of his eyes. He hates when the fantastic is logical, but the evolution of Phil's dream makes a lot of sense; at first, Dream-Dan was worried, and then got angrier as Real-Dan learned about the dream.

Phil elbows him in the side. "Shut up."

The game loads, then, so they stop discussing it and lose themselves in Dil's world for a while. It isn't until Dil becomes 'VERY ANGRY' that Dan remembers he wanted to share some information with Phil.

"Right, you've been acting so weird that I completely forgot to tell you," Dan says, pausing the game. "Did you know that you aren't the only person with weird powers?"

"It would be pretty egotistical for me to think I'm the only one, Dan."

"Shut up," says Dan, "Louise can feel other people's emotions."

The look on Phil's face is totally worth springing this on him. He goes through a whole face journey, starting on pure shock and ending in something that looks strangely nervous.

He looks away before Dan can analyze the expression further, pointing at the computer scene. "Like - like, she can see when people are focused or inspired, like we’re all Sims? Dan. Dan, that's terrifying."

"She said it only worked with strong emotions," Dan laughs, batting Phil's hand away from his monitor so he doesn't leave finger smudges.

"Do you believe her?" asks Phil.

Do you believe me now?

Dan gives a noncommittal shrug, his first instinct to being asked an opinion, and adds, "Yeah. You've both made a pretty compelling case for magic being, like, a thing."

"What did she feel off of you?" Phil asks curiously, and Dan accidentally-on-purpose presses the pause shortcut so their attention can be consumed by their odd little virtual family again.

Dan assumes that if Phil asks Louise anything personal, Louise will keep her mouth shut. He has a lot of blackmail material on her, after all, and friends don't tell people that a friend is feeling Things without consulting that friend.

As the month comes to a close, though, Phil starts pretending he can't find his dream journal and gives Dan looks when he thinks Dan isn't paying attention. It's nerve-wracking.

Luckily, Phil is his regular self aside from that. Dan lets himself revel in how good it feels to have his best friend in top form and cracking decent bants again.

He wants to ask Louise if she's spilled the beans on what are certainly misunderstood feelings, but he's a little scared of the answer. If he doesn't ask either of them, Dan can pretend that everything is back to normal and that he isn't hyperaware of his own body every time Phil touches him.

To make a joke of it all, Dan texts Markiplier without context that he finally understands how Schrödinger felt, because Mark and Louise are the only ones who have an inkling about this situation.

From Mark: Dude, it's 5am here. Shut the fuck up and tell Phil how you feel.

To Mark: that's not what i'm talking about

From Mark: Ohhh, so you ACTUALLY have a maybe-dead cat in your apartment? That's so weird. Maybe you should call someone for that.

To Mark: you're enjoying this too much

Mark, the twat, leaves Dan on read - presumably to go to sleep - and Dan hovers over Louise's contact photo before groaning and opening Tumblr instead.

It's best if he doesn't know. He's pretty sure a cat inside a box is eventually going to die.

I should examine this, probably, Dan thinks as another casual brush of Phil's fingers causes his heart to jump into his throat. He doesn't particularly want to end up facedown on the floor, so he decides he'd rather play Mario Kart.

Unlike their brief attempt to buy a house, which went sideways in the worst way, signing a lease at the new flat is deceptively easy.

Phil is talking the landlord's ear off while Dan reads the paperwork over and tries to look like he knows what he's doing. He has uni flashbacks at the legal buzzwords, but he tries to focus instead of interjecting in all of Phil's stories and questions. It's working relatively well until Phil has to ask, "Are we allowed a dog?"

"No," Dan answers before the landlord can, tapping a line in the lease. "Sorry, Phil, a dog will have to be got when a house is bought."

He notices that Phil looks a little disappointed but not surprised, and he wonders if that's because Phil anticipated this downside of renting or if he had a dream involving their lack of pets.

"Fair enough," Phil acquiesces, squeezing the back of Dan's neck casually.

Their new landlord smiles at them and Dan is feeling quite good about this whole situation until they ask, "So, how long have the two of you been together?"

"Excuse me?"

Phil doesn't sound offended or even bewildered, just curious. It makes sense; they get mistaken for a couple quite a lot. For his part, Dan is trying to become invisible by melting into the sofa, because he knows that their landlord's assumption isn't coming from nowhere.

"Sorry to pry," they say politely, "Daniel mentioned that the two of you have lived together a while, and I do enjoy a good love story."

Dan hopes that the floor is going to open up and swallow him whole. He feels Phil's gaze but refuses to meet it, face burning.

After a couple of seconds - during which Dan contemplates death or, at the very least, running away to Tokyo - Phil returns his hand to Dan's neck and easily says, "Eight years."

With a mortified noise, Dan hides his face in his hands and tries to ignore the heavy thumping of his heart. Their landlord is saying something else, probably asking what the fuck is wrong with Phil's boyfriend, but all Dan can pay attention to is the weight of Phil's hand and the sound of his genuine laugh in response to whatever question he's asked.

"He's just embarrassed because he hates telling people how we met," Phil stage-whispers. "He basically stalked me online until I noticed him."

"Oh my God, I hate you," Dan groans into his palms.

"No, you don't," says Phil cheerfully.

New landlord chuckles before a phone rings and they have to leave the flat to take the call, murmuring an "excuse me". The silence left in their wake is horrible, and Dan thinks that he's never going to come out of the safety of his hands again.

It takes a few minutes for Phil to move his hand from Dan's neck; honestly, Dan is expecting him to laugh or ask questions that Dan doesn't have answers to, but Phil just takes Dan's hands in both of his and gently pulls them away from Dan's face.

"Did you tell our landlord that we're a couple?" Phil asks, his voice lilting strangely on the last word.

Dan nods, biting his lip. He can feel the heat of an ugly blush radiating off his face, and he has genuinely no idea how he's going to explain this away.

"Why?"

It's a simple question, and certainly a fair one - anyone would want to know the answer - but it stumps Dan. He'd done it because the landlord had assumed, but seeing as most of the people they meet have the same assumption, the logic doesn't really hold up. He could say he'd done it ironically, which he thinks that Phil might accept as an answer, or a joke, which he thinks Phil would disapprove of.

He could say a lot of things, but they all feel like lies. Dan looks down at where Phil is holding his wrists between them on the sofa so he doesn't have to make eye contact when he answers, "Sometimes it feels more like the truth than saying we aren't."

"I guess I can see that," says Phil. To Dan's absolute bewilderment, his voice is calm and his hands aren't shaking. Dan's are. "Tell me something else, then? What do you want to be the truth?"

That... is a less simple question.

"Dunno," Dan shrugs, because he can feel Phil watching him and he doesn't want to take too long to answer. "I never really thought it would be a relevant question."

"Well, do you still want to live with me?" asks Phil. The question is filled with such genuine concern that it startles Dan into looking up to shoot Phil an incredulous expression. He's not prepared for how close Phil is, even though personal space has long been a myth between them.

"Of course I do, you fucking buffoon."

A corner of Phil's mouth curves upwards and Dan tries not to show how nervous he is, because Phil is still weirdly calm.

"Okay, okay," says Phil, squeezing Dan's wrists before letting go, "we should sign, then."

Dan had completely forgotten what they were doing before Phil asked if he wanted to be in a relationship, so he's grateful for the reminder. He skims the rest of the lease as thoroughly as he can with Phil watching him.

There aren't any surprises in the paperwork, which Dan is grateful for - he isn't sure he'd be able to debate with the landlord in his current state. He signs quickly and hands the pen to Phil as their new landlord walks in, pocketing a phone.

"You're all set?" the landlord asks with a smile.

"We are," Phil answers for them both. He stands up and shakes the landlord's hand, making small talk while Dan forcibly drags his gaze away from Phil.

He doesn't know what he wants. It should be easy, sorting through his feelings and deciding yeah, that's how I want things to be, but there are serious downsides to any decision Dan makes right now.

Ruining their friendship would be unacceptable, but honestly, Dan doesn't think anything he says will make Phil stop being his best friend. It would just be awkward if Dan wanted something Phil doesn't - and why didn't Phil say what he wants, so Dan isn't freaking the fuck out and wondering? - it wouldn't be the end of the world.

Dan thinks it would be pretty damn close to the end of the world if they tried, failed, and had to dance around each other as awkward exes. That's the darkest timeline, right there.

Or maybe it's not.

Phil is gesturing for Dan to leave with him, smiling widely, and Dan considers what would happen if nothing changed between them. It's certainly the path of least resistance, but as Dan stands up and Phil leans into his space out of sheer instinct, Dan has to admit that not addressing the way his heart reacts to Phil is the worst option on the table.

The landlord says things and Phil says things back, but Dan isn't listening. He's too busy forcing himself to imagine Phil moving out, Phil getting a dog without him, Phil finding someone else to share his life with, because that's what best friends do.

By the time they hail a cab to their terrible current flat, all Dan can say for sure is that he really, really doesn't want to do nothing.

Phil is quiet for once, looking out the taxi window and letting Dan have space to think, and Dan is so fond and so sure, at this moment, that he reaches out and puts his hand over Phil's.

It only takes a moment before Phil registers what he's doing. He grins so damn brightly that Dan hates himself for not considering his options before this.

"Is this your final answer?" Phil asks, affecting a silly announcer voice to lighten the moment.

Dan snorts and says, "Yeah, alright."

It's all he can manage out loud right now, but Phil beams at him and turns his hand over so they can wind their fingers together properly. It's not the first time they've held hands, but it's the first time it's meant something so important.

Things could still go so wrong. This might not work, and things will be awkward, possibly forever.

Dan, well. He chooses to hope for the best here.

"Did you dream about this?" Dan thinks to ask during a commercial break. Phil is curled into his side, lanky giraffe legs thrown over Dan’s lap. It should be weird, since they've never cuddled quite like this before, but Dan feels warm to the core. "Us, I mean. Is that why you hid your journal?"

"I didn't hide it," Phil lies, "I lost it."

Dan huffs his disbelief and pinches Phil’s thigh. "You can tell me. In case you didn't notice, I'm not going to mind."

The grin Phil shoots him is almost shy, which tugs at Dan's heartstrings. He smiles back and runs his fingers through Phil's hair, because he can.

"Does it really matter what I dreamed?" Phil hums, leaning into Dan's hand like a cat. "I've had dreams about us for years, to be honest, but I could never figure out if they were premonitions or just, like, wishful thinking."

"You weirdo."

"Your weirdo," counters Phil. The words are a bit stilted, like he isn't sure if Dan wants to hear them, and Dan can't help himself - he presses his lips to Phil's, quick and chaste and easy as breathing. He'd worried that maybe it would take a while for them to be comfortable with kissing, but honestly, it feels like the natural progression of their relationship.

Phil grins and chases Dan's mouth as he leans back, pressing light kisses all over the bottom half of Dan's face until Dan is laughing breathlessly.

"Okay, fine, you're my weirdo," Dan says as Phil smooches the tip of his nose. "Now shhh, the show is back on."

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words

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