#ambiguous relationships

[solaneceae]

my battery is low, and it's getting dark.

a codebreakers fanfic about étoiles losing his sight. read on Ao3

It starts off with light blurriness — the kind you get when you forget to remove your contacts before bed, dryness and irritation welcoming you back to the waking world. Étoiles doesn’t wear contacts, although he does don a pair of sturdy, cheap rectangular glasses on occasion, whenever reports have to be read or written in thin leather-bound books for the Résistance’s upper echelon. 

(Upper echelon he’s never caught a whiff off, by the way. Étoiles understands the need for secrecy, for compartmentalization — but damn, it does get lonely here in headquarters, with nothing but his own voice and long-dried ink speaking of codes going rogue and islander alignments to entertain himself with.)

He blinks, once, twice, rubbing at his eyeballs through the skin of his lids. No amelioration. He shrugs it off, readjusts the straps of his slime armor. It’s a shit one, not even the good enchants on it. But he’s been restless lately, antsy. Not quite worried, but something else, something in the negative shape of a beloved, beret-wearing egg. Ants under his greenish skin, a fire only the cold bite of enemy blades and a close brush with Lady Death can fix.

He likes Kristin. She’s funny, with her large brimmed hat and gentle smile and gentler words still. Philza’s a lucky man.

“You are sad,” she would say, in the space-between-spaces he would drift to when downed, just before the ‘doom-doom’ of revival. The crimson bud of her smile would twist into a scowl, as she watched him give her a two-fingered salute. “Is that why I see you so often, starling?”

“I’m not sad,” he would answer without fail — the ache inside his chest wasn’t sadness. Étoiles didn’t do sad. He killed, he destroyed, his body grown in a weapon meant to hurt and maim and be hurt in return. Meant to be wielded by someone worthy. (He thinks of pitch-black feathers and a wheezy laugh, the tingle of wither-decay dancing on his skin, the smell of bone. Claws digging into his bony hips, a litany of trills speaking of ownership-claim, great shadows trapping him in so effectively. His knee guards stained by fresh soil where potatoes are endlessly grown in honor of a great warrior he once crossed blades with. Worship, devotion.)

“I’m not sad,” he mumbles, jumping down the well and into the darkness of the dungeon below. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a shit one, and he could scratch that itch in the back of his mind that demanded blood be spilled, be it his or otherwise. “Maybe I die for real today, let’s goooo.”

He never does. He’s too good at dungeoning, too good at placing blocks and throwing splash potions at his feet, golden apples now a rare last resort because he knows what happens when he eats too many. Aaaah, what a pity, he thinks, as he loses himself in the clash of metal on metal and the grunt of mobs falling at his feet. What a pity, I feel nothing. Bad day for me, bad day.

***

The blurriness stays. Days go by, sluggish and quiet, too quiet on this shit island, and no amount of sleep or healing potions make it any better. His arm stings with static-burn where the black and green binary tar has spread, higher, creeping up his neck. But it does nothing to hinder his movements, doesn’t dull the sharpness of his mind. So he ignores it. “Maybe you should get that checked out or something,” Foolish pokes at it once, as they sit and talk atop the Titan’s head using the blue and green plush chairs the TazerCraft have sneaked in. Pac e Mike, wow wow, sings a little voice in Étoiles’ mind whenever he sees splashes of blue and green, because those two live rent-free in everyone’s builds and brains.

“It’s okay,” he smiles at the shark-totem, easy and casual and Étoiles. “It doesn’t hurt.” It doesn’t. “It’s not changing me.” He is changing, that softness that Pomme had made bloom inside him eroding away with every day she’s gone. It’s harder to stay still, harder to stop and talk to the others, because half of them are depressed and the other half are going insane. But none of that is the code’s doing. “Look, I’ll prove it! 1v1 stick?” he jumps to his feet, throwing a wooden stick at his friend with a fiendish grin. “1v1, right now, let’s go.”

Foolish chuckles, even though his smile doesn’t reach his emerald-carved eyes. (His features are hazy, fuzziness getting worse every time Étoiles wakes. Doesn’t matter.) 

They fight, Étoiles takes it home with six hearts to spare. And he still feels empty.

***

Lilacs. Sunflowers. Cornflowers. Poppies.

Flower biomes were Pomme’s favorites. They’re hard to find, but Étoiles is one patient, stubborn cucumber. “T’aurais adoré ça, légende,” he hums, picking another poppy by the stem and stuffing it into his inventory, the frozen subspace keeping it suspended in time and fresh. He can almost hear the pitter-patter of her little cheeto legs in the grass, the rustle of the blades against her shell. The bomp of a red sign being placed, asking for more red, more blue, more of every color to make her siblings flower crowns and dye her trusty scythe like a rainbow.

He can barely make out their shape anymore, only differentiating roses from poppies by tracing their petals with gold-scarred fingers. He sees a blue blur somewhere at his right, oh, cornflower probably. Her secret code.

He lets out a deep, guttural groan and lets his body fall backwards, hitting the plush grass with a thump. A few butterflies flutter out of the way, one of them settling back on the bridge of the warrior’s nose. He glares at it, faded golden stars comically crossed. He only sees the yellow of its wings, stark against sky blue. “Hey, hey. Tu vas rien trouver ici, tu sais. J’ai pas fleuri depuis des plombes.”

The critter’s wings flap once, unbothered. Étoiles blows on it to make it go away, fails. (He’s a failure, at everything. Fails to keep his kid safe, fails to win a 1v1 against an insect.) Soon enough, there is enough butterflies on him to pin him to the ground under the would-be guilt of disturbing them. Étoiles whines, childish and unserious. “Vas-y, j’peux plus bouger. Pas juste. Même la nature me déteste, c’est bon.”

He’s missed this. The warmth of a sunbeam, the scent of fertile soil, the brush of grass blades, the call of the earth below pulling at him. Part of him wants to sink into it, curl up in Her embrace like a child would in their mother’s womb, forget about the world and the Federation and the Codes and all this shit. Maybe he could fall asleep right here. Let his body soak up the sun, let himself bloom again. Let that softness grow out of his skin for all to see, like he used to. Or, he thinks he used to. The memories of Before are static-fuzz between his ears, unreachable unless he looks at them at the corner of his eye, so to speak.

(The freezing cold, then heat as air exploded around him, an impact. Physicality, sudden and unexpected, the song of the stars loud in his ears as he opened his eyes for the first time in front of a bewildered human in a frayed straw hat. He was happy, wasn’t it? He thinks he used to be happy. What happened?)

But Étoiles is a warrior, a weapon, and weapons dull and rust and grow weak if left to rest. So he takes a deep breath, pushes himself up. “Désolé,” he hums to the butterflies as they scatter away. They are but bright, colorful blobs in his dulling eyes. “Désolé,” he says as he warps back home to forge yet another axe. 

His inventory is full of flowers that he’ll forget about, wrapping him in a constant mix of herbal scents that has Cellbit recoiling next time they cross paths. Étoiles doesn’t notice it, the Brazilian’s bothered expression lost on his rapidly-decaying vision.

***

By the time the Code challenges him to what Étoiles knows will be their last duel for the foreseeable future, his sight is all but gone, everyone and their dog has taken notice, and he has brushed off their concern. “I don’t need to see to click good,” he boasts, slamming down deepslate to launch himself fast and run circles around a disgruntled Pac. “See, see! I’m strafing, I’m doing it, playing the game.” Pac makes a strange sound, one he struggles to guess the emotion behind without body language. “It’s okay, Pac. It’s easy. There’s no problem, at all.”

Phil isn’t here yet, can’t see any names on his comlink but Tubbo told him he wasn’t. Shame, shame he won’t be there to see him die, Étoiles thinks as the rain soaks through his shirt, the boom of lightning bothering him more than he lets show. His ears are ringing as he jumps, ducks, tugs at the string of his bow and sends an arrow flying where he knows the Code is, he can feel it, the only spot that doesn’t smell like anything but void. But there’s no feedback, no satisfying sound of health being chipped at, nothing.

This Code is too strong, his sword winging an off-tune melody as it goes through the binary without ripping or tearing. No damage. Ah, he thinks, so they have finally stopped playing. I see now.

The back of his chestplate shatters into a blast of broken enchant magic and diamond shards, some of them lodging themselves into his flesh. Something cold sinks between his ribs, brushing against his spine in a white-hot flash of pain that irradiates through his whole body, and oh, yeah, it’s over. It’s joever, as Tubbo would say. “GGs,” he gasps through a mouthful of dark green blood. He coughs it up, lets it splash down his neck and paint his shirt. Tubbo’s screaming somewhere, too far away for Étoiles to discern the words. “You- eugh, you slash-kill’ed me, good job you cheater. Easy win.”

The entity growls, a hum-buzz that makes his brain (or whatever he has for brains, maybe lettuce?) rattle inside his skull. The blade slides out, cutting away at him further on its way out, and his body falls into a puddle of rainwater and mud with a wet thud. It hurts, blackered arm buzzing, pain creeping up his neck and the right side of his face, extinguishing the last of his remaining sight. 

He faintly realises that almost nobody knows about his respaw mechanic. Ah, et merde. He hopes they’ll have the presence of mind to ask Antoine, when they realise he wouldn’t just re-pop into existence seconds after his death… or when they noticed his body starting to wilt and decay, if they stuck around for long enough.

(Tallulah knows, he remembers. He told her. But had she told Philza, before she disappeared along with all the other eggs?)

Through his fading senses, his comm buzzes with what he knows is his first death message in a really long time. He can make out the sound of rapid footsteps, clickety hooves and heavy, leather work boots. Tubbo and Pierre. He closes his eyes, not that he needs to anymore for darkness to cradle him. He lets go.

He doesn’t see Kristin this time, only hears a faint sigh and a gentle breath sending him off into the void. He hopes they find his seed soon. He doesn’t wanna stay missing for too long, after all.

***

His personal death-void is not so bad of a place. Boring, obviously, but there’s a familiarity to it, to the way the darkness shrouds him like a heavy blanket, pushing against him from all sides. Not oppressive but comforting. Cradling, instead of crushing.

It reminds him of the dirt patch he was born in — he had been asleep and new, just ripe for the picking, dirt-stained hands pulling at his stem with the roughness of a long-repeated gesture. He had screamed, he thinks, not in pain, but to show the world he was here and alive, hello, hello sun, hello dirt, hello person! Had given poor old Théo a heart attack too.

Ah. He could remember, now. Théo, his leathered face and kind eyes with crow feet, wary at first before this walking, talking little legume with the night sky in his eyes, flower-covered vine-tail like some sort of umbilical cord trailing behind him as he follows the old farmer around, asking him endless questions in barely-legible French. But… yes, he’d been kind to him, Étoiles thinks. The first face his face saw. Makes sense it would be one of the first things that came back to him. Maybe remembering was easier in the void? Maybe he should die more often.

…Nah. Dying wasn’t his style. And having to regrow a whole new body over a week was annoying. He had things to do in the island! Like talking with people (eurgh), and giving them things (yes) and fighting with Philza (yes! yes! yes!) and have fun!

So he waits, oblivion pulling at him like gravity. The void is a quiet place, sometimes, but more often it’s not, with the song of supernovas and wailing stars far away keeping him aware, listening. He hums along to it with no mouth or vocal chords (not yet, still growing, still so small, unripe), and sometimes he swears he can hear another voice singing with him. Off-key, awful really, almost crow-like, but it sounds like someone he cares about, so he’s happy to listen to its drone.

Other times, he sleeps. And he dreams of tiny hands and quiet chirps and clicks, of the yesyes uncle Phil taught her, of the chrr-chrr-peep that means him, when she calls Étoiles’ name in her own little language. And he curls around the memory, softness, and lets it carry him up into the stars glittering behind still-forming eyelids.

***

“Étoiles.”

He hums — warmth, the slow beating heart of the earth. The choir of stars constantly burning far, far away. He could listen to it forever, because he had been listening to it since the birth of the first star, he knew.

“Mate. You with me? C’mon, s’been a week already. Come up here, you can do it.”

The voice scratches pleasantly at the back of his brain. But the earth is so warm, so comfy, a cocoon of peace and respite he’s not sure he wants to leave. He sighs with no lungs to breathe, no need for them, when all he could ever need is right there — perfect temp, perfect moisture, glucose, carbon dioxide, rich nutrients all around. Who needs gapples, really. Or thoughts. Or responsibilities. This is the best.

“...Mh. Alright then.”

The voice grates on his ears, ears that try to flick but are stopped by the soil packed around them. He groans in drowsy irritation, curls in on himself in an attempt to shield himself from it and from the world. It seems to work, the noises fading into nothing, and Étoiles feels his thoughts scatter as a faint scratching sound seeps through the earth and into his mind like white noise. Sleep pulls at him again, and he lets it.

He’s startled back into wakefulness by something pulling harshly, somewhere that feels a bit away but is still part of him. His eyes fly open in pained surprise because ow, ow, that’s my— “Come here, you lazy fuck!” That voice — high-pitched, that heavy accent he’s come to love, amusement and exasperation combined, Phil, his Phil, his GOAT, his brother in arms, his Death-touched angel.

Étoiles blinks, unseeing. Étoiles remembers. And with awareness comes something else, something that shimmers and calls his name in gentle whisper-echoes, as he feels himself being pulled up, and up, dirt parting to let him ascend back to the surface. Aah. Goodbye mama. Hello problems. “Get harvested, idiot!” Philza Minecraft grunts with effort somewhere above him, and the tug gets stronger, prompting a pained ow out of him as the ground crackles and breaks above him, and he feels air-sun-outside on his back as he’s forcefully pulled from the ground like the fresh crop he is. He flails a little bit, kicking off dirt and soil (it’s everywhere, in his hair and between his toes and a little in his mouth and nose, bleh!), then rolls onto his back with a groan, frowning up at the sky he knows is there, blue and clear, because it doesn’t smell like rain and the surface soil is dry and warm.

He’s back. And he sees nothing at all. Welp, better close his eyes again then. He feels a shadow fall on him, feels a sandaled foot nudge his side. “Helloooooo. Hello Phil,” he greets the other leaning hard on the deadpan because he knows it makes his friend laugh when he does that. It lands. “What, that’s it?” the elytrian caws, kneeling beside him and poking at his face, talons dulled to a gentle roundness. Étoiles wishes he didn’t trim them, but Phil is too nice, too careful, too eager to smooth himself down for others, for the eggs. Docile.

Étoiles despises it, but he keeps quiet because he knows Phil doesn’t like to talk about those things. “You get yourself killed by a fucking Code of all things,” Phil keeps going, “make everyone freak the fuck out because you won’t respawn like a normal fucking person, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Antoine knows. And I’m here now, so it’s okay.”

“Antoine barely logs on, you absolute dumbass. You’re lucky Lullah told me about the seed thing, because you would’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.”

He opens his eyes, if only to shoot Phil a halfhearted glare. And then immediately forgets about it, blinks owlishly. Sits up to get closer to the other man. “Phil. Why are you stars?”

“What.”

He sees stars. (And not in the sex way, because he doesn't do that.) It’s not night, but there are stars in his vision, where pitch blackness used to be, and the constellation is Phil-shaped.

Philza is a cosmic cluster, a nebula shining bright in the darkness that has become his world. He can see nothing beyond him, not the plants surrounding him, not the long vine attached to his lower back Phil used to pull him out. He can tell it’s there, though, lightly thumping at the ground in agitation. “You, are stars. That’s how I see you now.”

“Wait. Can you, like, see again?” Phil asks, uncharacteristically soft. “I know it was getting… bad. And your eyes are like, all greyed out. Did the code stuff on your arm do that?” Étoiles sees a cluster of stars approaching his face — hand — and feels fingers brushing just under his right eye. He’s a bit startled by the contact, the area usually covered by his trust bandana (he needs it back, needs his stuff back, hopefully someone held onto it for him). Phil draws away, an apology ready from the way his constellation-body shifts, but Étoiles doesn’t let him. “I can’t,” he answers, tilting his head, ear flicking in focus — the stars that make up Phil sharpen, and he can almost make out the shape of the wings bound behind his back. “But I can See. I think.” He also wouldn’t mind Phil’s hand on his face again. It feels nice. Scratches at something long-buried, and denied.

Philza makes a confused sound. “Okay, I heard that capital S there. What’s that mean? Are you pulling a Daredevil?”

Étoiles grins, sharp-toothed and playful. “Oh, oh! He thinks I’m a superhero? He thinks I’m cool, Felipe Minecraft? Big win for me.” Phil rolls his eyes, which Étoiles can tell because the crow always makes that low warble when he does. “But no, it’s not like that. I still need my eyes to see like this, and I don’t hear or smell better than before.” Although his status as a hybrid means his baseline is still higher than the average person’s, but that’s irrelevant. “FF.”

“So no cool blindfold for you, ey?”

“No cool blindfold. I will just do a Pomme and drown myself later, to make up for how uncool I am.” (He cannot drown. No lungs. But he can pretend.)

He squints. There’s a little cluster, right there at the side of Phil’s head. He can connect the dots, identify the shape of the elytrian’s bucket hat, but there’s something else there too. “What’s that on your head, Phil? I can’t make it out well.”

“Oh— here,” the other takes his hand and guides it towards his hair, and Étoiles feels a familiar texture under his pads. He makes a noise of surprise. “That’s. Mine.”

“Do you want it back?” Phil hums, brushing at the large cucumber flower tucked in the band of his hat. “It bloomed this morning, on top of the plant you were growing under. Took it as a sign you were, uh, done cooking.” Étoiles snorts. Good guess. “But uh, I guess the plant was also you, cuz it’s at the end of your tail now. Dragging.” Ah. Yeah. He really ought to cut it. “Is it weird? That I’m wearing a piece of you? I don’t know what… fuckin’... cucumber etiquette is.”

“It’s not weird,” Étoiles says, because he doesn’t think it is. “You can keep it.” He kind of likes it. That Phil’s wearing a piece of him. It makes him, happy? “You know, that I am your weapon. Yes? So it makes sense, that you show it.”

“You’re my friend. Don’t call yourself a weapon, man.”

“Same thing for me.”

Phil’s response is wordless, a simple, noncommittal mmh. But Étoiles can hear the hidden fondness in it. He pushes a little further, crudely imitates that  one bird sound Philza makes when he’s happy. Whoops internally when Phil puffs out his feathers and trills out a yesyes in return. Héhé. “Yes yes, Philza? Fight me, right now?” he slips into his usual stance, just a bit offset by the lack of armor weighing him down. “1v1, no weapons, no armor? Fistfight, let’s go.”

Phil cackles, crow-like. “I am not fighting you right now, you little shit. You menace. What’s wrong with you?”

“Aww, Phil hates me,” the warrior whines. “He hates me. He won’t 1v1 me, he must hate me. Sad.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby.”

“I was literally born five minutes ago. I am baby, and Felipe Minecraft hates me,” he sasses back, and Phil throws his arms towards the sky in exasperation. “Oh come on. I spent a week protecting your green ass! Making sure you got enough sun and water and shit, it was like doing egg tasks all over again. Antoine even talked me into fucking singing, pretty sure he was pranking me with that one by the way, and still you think I hate you?”

“Nice caulk, Phil.”

He can’t see it, but Étoiles knows Phil’s eyelid is twitching. “Mate. I got a faceful of ass pulling you out of here, you’re on thin fucking ice.”

The cucumber snorts. “Héhé, got mooned by the stars.” That was kinda funny. “You were pulling me by the tail, I do not know what you expected. You’re lucky I’m a plant, or there would have been full cock and balls there.”

“Bruh. I thought it would be connected to your… plant belly button, or whatever, like an umbilical cord.”

“It’s an ass button, GGs.”

“Jesus Christ, please don’t call it that. I didn’t even know you had a tail. You didn’t before.”

“That’s because I always cut it,” the warrior huffs, said tail lashing behind him from the restless energy that always accompanies a new body. Its leaves drag around the loose dirt in little swish-y sounds. “Give me a sword, Phil, it’s already annoying me.”

The crow peers down at the vine, then back at him. “I dunno, man. You look kinda fun with it.” Étoiles squints. He can’t quite make out Phil’s expression like this, all stars and nothing between them, but he can hear the hidden laughter in his voice. “...I will cut it with my teeth then.”

“Won’t that hurt more than with a blade?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Only the base. Like when you pulled on it.”

“Why not keep it? It’s a part of you.”

Because it speaks for me, he considers replying. Because it says and shows things that I don’t want people to see. Even now, it wags, because Phil is here and now brushing stray dirt out of his hair and it’s very nice. (Is he touch-starved? He might be. Pomme is gone, and he doesn’t trust people to touch him, other than with blunt force and sharp diamond blades.) But Étoiles hasn’t kept his tail since he was a child, still wide-eyed and showing his innermost self to the whole world without any shield. He feels weird. Exposed. And it’s okay with Phil, because Phil is Phil, but it’s not okay because they’re out in the open and anyone could come and see. He doesn’t like that. “Because people can grab it, and it gets stuck in things, and it’s annoying. I cut it, now.” He tugs at the appendage, bringing it up to his mouth. “Nope,” Phil snatches it away, and Étoiles hisses at him. “Calm down, dude. At least let’s do it cleanly.”

“Eeeeuugh. Okay.”

”Then we’re getting your stuff back from Antoine’s, good god. You’re still butt-naked and I won’t have you strut around like that.”

“He has my things? Comms, armor, my backpacks?”

“All of it, yeah,” the older man huffs, and Étoiles can hear the telltale sound of an item being summoned of an inventory. Enchanted axe, he parses, recognizing the ozone-y smell of the sharpness enchant and the sound of the air being sliced downward. He doesn’t feel anything when the vine is severed, frowns when he realises Phil left a good… fifty centimeters of it, still attached to his body. “Phil. You misclick? You aim like shit today?”

“You said it hurts near the base,” the elytrian huffs, finality lacing his every word. “Keep it or cut the rest later, your pick, but I’m not hurting you.”

Étoiles’ ear flicks in confusion, and so does his tail. It moves faster, easier now without the rest of the plant weighing it down. “...We fight each other all the time, that hurts more. I don’t care.”

Phil stays silent for a few seconds. Nebula-Phil shifts before him. “It’s. Different.”

Étoiles hums. Philza has the Tone™ again, the one that means he’s thinking of things that hurt. He thinks of clipped feathers, of matted down that he wishes he could run his fingers through and fix, fix, let me fix it, let me do this for you. But he says nothing. Maybe another time, when they’re both ready for that conversation. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Maybe I keep it this time. Maybe.”

He can hear Phil’s smile in the next word he speaks. “Attaboy.” And he tries to ignore the way his tail wags with renewed enthusiasm at that.

#qsmp #etoiles #philza #codebreakers #fanfic #q!étoiles #qetoiles #q!philza #qphilza #i have them on the brain like bad #ao3 tags GO #temporary character death #respawn mechanics #ambiguous relationships #q!étoiles and q!phil have a Thing going on #and i am unable to put a word on it #big up to someone i know for the inspo #blindness #self-esteem issues #this little cucumber is a little Fucked Up™ #but he tries his best!

[muchmossymess]

History might hate lovers, but the modern era hates friendship

#“close friends bestie anything but lovers” maybe they were just friends. (even tho i hate saying “just” friends) #if there is one thing i dont want the history books to say its that the most important person in my life was romancing me #platonic devotion for the win guys smh #platonic #queer #queer platonic relationship #qpr #ambiguous relationships #aromantic #aro #arospec #moss' madness

[eccentrcks]

He could never hurt me, or at least I thought he wouldn’t, but he did. I was no more than a puppet for them to use until I was deemed compromised.

I could never hurt you, he’d always said to me before revelations came into the picture.

I’ve said the same thing to him in return, but then, it was no more than a huge mistake once he pulled the gun on me.

@deadbranch

#50 word fic drabble #call of duty #cod fanfic #half drabble #cod imagine #canon x reader #morally ambiguous #ambiguous relationships #any cod man #cod x reader #cod #angst

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

sorry if you’ve done anything similar to this, but what about HCs for getting wine drunk with the papas? could be spicy or silly! ty ty ilysm!

I need a little silly in my life, so I did some wine drunk shenanigans! Hope you enjoy! <3

Minor Tag Warning for Alcohol and Drunkeness

Reader Getting Wine Drunk with the Papas!! (Ambiguous relationship)

Papa Nihil: Nihil isn't a big wine drinker, but he won't say no to wine with dinner or a good movie. The easiest way to get him to want a wine is watching a movie while you eat some good old authentic italian pasta. Nihil claims he can't eat pasta without it! It's always a red wine and an older horror movie. You can't beat the classics! But you have a good time every time you get wine drunk. The wine turns you both in Mystery Science Theatre, and you do nothing but laugh and comment on any and everything about the movie! Sometimes the wine makes you do something crazy, like try to play a board game! But the night always ends the same. All the food and drinks gone and you both just chatting until you fall asleep. It's always safe and cozy, even when you wake up hung over. Though the wine is always blamed for when suddenly Nihil is getting billed for several new movie streaming services he can't remember signing up for.

Papa I: Neither of you were TRYING to become drunk. It started innocently enough! There had been too many complaints about the Unholy Communion wines tasting awful. The Siblings of Sin were not shy in requesting something more decadent and easier to stomach. You and Papa, on your insistence, decided to find something to start using Clergy wide. In your mind it was a fun time to try all the fancy drinks with your favorite person! Papa was more happy to indulge you and just wanted to solve this as quickly as possible. But you are a bad influence. Convincing him it was a waste to do a traditional wine tasting! So after many glasses neither of you found the perfect communion wine... instead you found yourselves laughing on his couch. Trying to have unserious philosophical discussions through slurred speech. Papa admits it's the type of fun he needs outside of his brooding and serious ministry duties. Imagine your surprise when he invites you over again. This time to share a bottle just for you two!

Papa II: You were never a big wine drinker until you became close to the second Emeritus. Papa has the most well stocked wine cellar you have ever seen! Many people forget that under his classy and collected exterior is a man who loves to party! Or at least unwind and let go. So every once in a while he will ask you to pick something for dinner, or if you just want to sit and drink with him. Most of the time it's in his music room where you put in vinyls and just sink into the expensive sofa. You find he's much more talkative when properly drunk, and more willing to have fun. There have been many times Papa has decided that being drunk is the perfect time to teach you how to dance! You've fallen a few times, but both of you always laugh it off and go back to finding a good song to listen to! You always enjoy the looser side of Papa! The man who drunkingly explains the rise and fall of the Beatles in the music industry. Or he enjoys the way you cried once because you found your favorite song on one of his albums, and insisted he put it on repeat.

Papa III: Now THIS is when you both get the best gossiping time! It's actually a biweekly ritual you two share when you both have the time! Wine bottles out, the charcuterie boards full, and both of you ready to blow off steam! Life is so stressful, so why not find time to have a good wine with the best company? It always starts the same. One of you raging about the current annoyance in your life, and the other popping open a cork and pouring your glasses full. It usually starts with both of you venting, to both of you chatting, to both of you laughing your asses off about nothing. Sometimes you get drunken ideas, like rearranging the furniture that neither of you can move! Other times you decide you need a late night take out run (DRIVEN BY A GHOUL OF COURSE) and come back with bags full of fast food. This last time you both woke up to Papa's closet sloppily 'organized'. the only clue being a Marie Kondo video on your phone, and all of his socks in a basket. It's always in good fun!

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: When it comes to wine, you and Copia always promise yourselves 'one glass'. But sometimes, you just need a whole bottle or two. You both agreed it's not that you NEED wine to unwind; but it's nice to indulge once in a while. So the times you do get drunk off of wine, it's planned and thought out. Copia will select the best bottles he can for the night, and you get the best dinner or snacks to pair with it. You always do a quick glass cheers to each other and have at it! Like with Terzo, sometimes you just need to gossip or vent. Other times it's to unwind and NOT think about the day. Others it's to celebrate and find something fun to do! You've both woken up from your two person party wearing expensive lamp shades! This is one of the few times you both get into mischief together! Terrorizing the gardens at night, or finding your way into Copia's office to fuck around with his paper work. Anything to keep you two occupied! Your favorite time so far had been turning his office into a miniature club with strobe lights and his lava lamp collection. You were both pretty bewildered when you saw the mess you made the next day!

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost headcanons #ghost fluff #ghost funny #ghost reader insert #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #reader insert #ambiguous relationships #alcohol #drunk #wine #minor trigger warning

[rosietrace]

Ah! Ok so hi Rosie!! For the Valentine ask can I get my lovely boy Cyrus with Sumeragi, And let’s go with the subtle love ask with number 20 and perhaps accidental affection with ❅.

Have fun with this and take your time babes <3

(Also I noticed that if these two were to genuinely get together they would be the black cat x golden retriever duo😭)

Hi Cece!! You have sent, and I shall deliver ‼️‼️🕊️‼️🕊️🕊️‼️‼️

Watercolor Eyes

(Central) Characters Featured: Cyrus Olympia, Sumeragi Yuuta

↳ { Cyrus belongs to @/cecilebutcher • @/twst-stupid-ocs }

Others mentioned/featured: Dire Crowley

Pairing: Queerplatonic! Cyrus Olympia & Sumeragi Yuuta

Event: Valentine's Day 2024 💌

↳ Type: Requested Oneshot! 「 Prompt 20 — “Stopping themselves from messaging the other too often” • ❅ — “My muse cuddling up to yours” 」

Synopsis: Cyrus can't seem to stop spending time with Yuuta, let alone stop messaging him!... Even during moments when Yuuta's right next to him.

Warning(s): Ambiguous relationship between Cyrus and Yuuta (interpret it however you will), black cat x golden retriever™, Yuuta's a bitch but what else is new, Crowley mentions 😨, potentially ooc, mostly based on that lyric of ‘Dear Arkansas Daughter’

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

†•°•══════ஓ๑「❀」๑ஓ══════•°•†

Cyrus had heard a lot about Yuuta from Nestor, most of which were negative.

One of the more notable things Cyrus had heard about the anomalistic prefect of Ramshackle dormitory was that he wasn't of this world— and in his own, joking way, Cyrus could see that in the way Yuuta presented himself.

They weren't doing much while they were lounging on his bed; Both of them doing their own thing while still vaguely acknowledging the presence of the other once every 15 minutes, or so.

Yuuta sat against the headboard, legs straight and folded over the other while he focused his attention on taking notes for his next alchemy ‘reduction exam’.

Cyrus on the other hand was busy scrolling through his phone, calmly listening to his own music in the process.

After another long moment of continuous yet calming silence, Yuuta lightly tapped Cyrus’ shoulder. “Cy.”

Cyrus turned to Yuuta, cocking his head to the side at what the latter decided was a precarious angle. “What?”

“How the hell do you work around this formula?” Yuuta motioned to one of the formulas in his textbook.

Cyrus let out an “Ah”, scooting somewhat closer to give Yuuta a more thorough elaboration on how to go about that particular poison formula.

It was almost outrageous and concerning how good Cyrus was at poison-making. Then again, Yuuta's faced classmates and the occasional student from a rival academy with even stranger hobbies and talents.

Back to the point, however, Cyrus couldn't help but sneak a glance at the prefect once every hundred seconds during his elaboration.

He couldn't even scold himself for not focusing enough.

Yuuta was unironically attractive to Cyrus; His dark brown hair styled in a ponytail quite similar to his own, his seemingly 1920s-inspired way of dress— even when, at times, Yuuta wore the kind of revealing outfits he'd seen male idols wear. The kind of outfits 1920s men probably would have shot themselves for before they could even begin to fathom wearing something like that.

His most striking feature, however, was his lavender eyes. Cyrus believed eyes were the window to the soul, and there seemed to be quite the mysteriousness to the lavender hues of Yuuta's set, in particular.

The shade matches him, Cyrus thought to himself while he stole another glance.

By that point, however, Cyrus had been caught red-handed and earned a skeptical raise of Yuuta's brow in reply.

“What’re you looking at?” Yuuta questioned, his voice cautious. “Is there… Something on my face?”

Other than pure handsomeness? Cyrus shook his head at the sudden offhandedly thrown comment, earning an even more bewildered expression out of Yuuta.

“Cy,” Yuuta snapped two fingers in front of Cyrus' face. A feeble attempt at garnering his attention once more. “Earth to- Wonderland to Cyrus— you still with me?”

Once again, Cyrus found himself getting lost in the lavender hue of his irises. The way they resembled the smooth pigment of watercolor.

He found his focus… After staring into them for that small, sacrilegious eternity.

“I'm here… I'm fine.”

•❀°─────────°❀•

Cyrus took up messaging Yuuta to avoid getting distracted again.

Not only to just give him the explanations through text — because Yuuta's attention span was about as questionable as Dire Crowley's — but also to just… Blurt out random topics.

It had the disadvantage of silently pissing him off, though.

It wasn't even every 15 minutes anymore, it was every second when Cyrus had something new and random pop up in his mind. And when that happened, he'd tell it to Yuuta even if he didn't respond or express his opinion on it.

Cy ✨

Yuuta

Cy ✨

Did it hurt when u fell?

Yuuta's eye twitched in irritation. What the hell is he on about this time?

Cy ✨

Y'know, when u fell from the stairs that one time I came to visit u

One moment Cyrus was a flirt, the next he just said things that just happened to piss Yuuta off.

And it went on like that for the next. Three. Hours.

Pick-up line after pick-up line, Cyrus cemented himself as even more of an egotistical flirt than Yuuta could ever hope to be.

And some lines weren't exactly… “Family friendly”, at times. Nothing too inappropriate, just stuff that most people wouldn't use as pick-up lines.

Once he got really pissed off, Yuuta just… Snatched Cyrus's phone out of his grasp without even bothering to look at him, in the process.

Cyrus gasped in what could only be described as the energy of an overdramatic theater kid. “Yuuta-! Give my phone ba-”

“Ah ah ah,” Yuuta shook his finger in his face, a cocky grin gracing his unfortunately endearing face. “No can do, Cy. I'm not giving it back yet.”

“It's my phone.”

“I know.”

“You will give it back, Yuuta.”

“I can promise that,” Yuuta's grin transitioned into a smirk. Oh, how Cyrus wished it didn't have the kind of effect on him as it did. “I'll give you your phone back after a while…”

Wildly unnecessary, it was for Yuuta to hold Cyrus’ chin the way he did.

“On two conditions.”

Cyrus scoffed. Whatever the conditions were, he figured it had something to do with the obvious fact that he could've just talked to Yuuta instead of texting him— he was right next to him, after all.

“One,” — he held up one finger — “you continue helping me with my notes.”

That, Cyrus can do. But then Yuuta held up a second finger, and that made him feel slightly uneasy.

“... You actually talk to me in person, instead of distracting yourself on your phone and texting me as some compromise.”

Well then.

Rolling his eyes, Cyrus pulled away from the grip Yuuta had on his chin, hiding away whatever flushed feelings he had from having his face so close to his own.

Regardless of how he felt… He knew that getting too close to Sumeragi Yuuta would be his undoing— to feel so endeared by a man who would only put himself first, had it not been for the circumstances of losing the only person he truly cared about.

A person Cyrus Olympia could never compare himself, to.

†•°•══════ஓ๑「❀」๑ஓ══════•°•†

Taglist

—

Written for

@cecilebutcher / @twst-stupid-ocs

—

🥥

@starry-night-rose || @jasdiary || @authoruio || @nem0-nee || @fumikomiyasaki || @sakuramidnight15

—

「 Etteilla ♢」

@geminiiviolets || @twsted-princess || @terrovaniadorm / @hallowed-delights || @abyss-wonderer || @mystery-skulls-ghost || @twistedsongstressofstarz / @absolutelyobsessedkiya

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #mutuals <3 #twst ocs #sumeragi yuuta #『 yuuta ❀ 』 #cyrus olympia #queerplatonic oc x oc #ambiguous relationships #oc x oc-ish #mutuals oc #mutuals' ocs #friends' oc #[2024] rosie valentines day ❣️ #disney twst #twst #twst mc #ツイステ #ツイステッドワンダーランド #twistedwonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland

[dnffics]

Dominos (Your Love)

by sageafk

Rated T, 2.4k words

Tags: Second Person POV, Introspection, Falling In Love, Ambiguous Relationships, Relationship Study

Summary:

You love him. The amber of his bedroom light illuminates through the window as you’re coming back from a late-night walk, and in the haze of the navy night, the orange feels like home. It’s comforting and you’re fearless, all you want is him, beside you, forever and always.

or, a look into how Dream loves George.

#dnf #dreamnotfound #mod.recs #ambiguous relationships #getting together #rated t #sageafk #1k-10k words

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Any (preferably) parentlock fics that include John accidentally giving Sherlock a goodbye kiss or something like that? Thank you!

Hey Nonny!

I actually do! I was asked a similar question back in 2020, so I'll post the fics from that post here:

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They've been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

The Heart In The Whole by verityburns (E, 101,650 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Drama & Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Blind Sherlock) – Events after ‘The Great Game’ leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own…

the napoleon by darcylindbergh(E, 24,823 w., 4 Ch. || 1980′s AU || Halloween, Action & Romance, Costumes, Costume Parties/Masquerades, Mutual Pining, First Kiss / Time) – Halloween, 1989: John and Sherlock both have big plans for the night, but serial killers have the worst possible timing.

------

I'm sure there's a tonne more; I know that I've come across them in my fake and ambiguous relationship fics, I just never kept track of them, LOL.

If y'all have more to add, please do!! <3

#steph replies #johnlock fic reqs #help steph find fics #accidental kisses #ambiguous relationships

[coteriedrables]

Wolf 359 post finally

Getting back to earth, and everyone, realizing that none of them really have anywhere to go.

Eiffel was in jail before mission, Lovelace is an alien clone, who is original was killed in action… technically Minkowski could return to her husband, but who knows at this point he may have moved on thinking his wife was dead.. Hera is an AI and a super computer. She is kind of stuck in her housing.

But Jacobi still had his apartment that he shared with Maxwell… she had projects in there and there probably was a unit that they could transfer Hera to there.

Hera would probably know enough between herself and Jacobi on how to transfer her to this housing just for the time being just until they find something better she doesn’t wanna be too far from her friends

And Eiffel goes with them following like a lost puppy. He doesn’t wanna leave her he has nowhere else to be.

Yeah he could go find his ex and his child but he is in no condition still even with that long, long journey he’s re-discovering himself he doesn’t want to go somewhere where he’s expected to perform in a certain manner quite yet.

Minkowski tries to go home first see her husband they break the story on what happened up there not all of it but the parts that evil NASA minimum… and she tries to rekindle. He’s gone for a while regardless. She keeps the people in charge from bothering her people.

Lovelace maybe follows back to Jacobi’s apartment at first and then quickly realizes she is not meant to settle down she has unfinished business. She needs to go the next kin of her crew. She needs to do anything she has to keep moving. She doesn’t know how to stop.

And honestly, neither does Jacobi.

After a few months Eiffel comes out of Maxwells old room, says good morning to Hera, and realizes Jacobi is gone. He doesn’t question it up, figuring his roommate is off at the store…. or I guess going on some short trip….ooor going on a longer trip I suppose. after a month he decides Jacobi is not coming back for a long while but rents due next week he knows that. He also knows that he doesn’t have any money still… Two days later there’s a letter in the mail

“Eiffel I’m sorry here is rent,” and Eiffel is confused, which admittedly is a fairly common feeling for him, but he doesn’t worry about rent. He doesn’t worry about a lot of things but he worries about everything. But somehow Jacobi has made sure he has enough to get by and to make sure that rent is paid usually with a little extra for a treat according to him…

And Eiffel is confused

A few weeks later, he sends out a call to Minkowski, Have you seen Jacobi have you heard from him? and then to Lovelace, Have you seen Jacobi? Have you heard from him? No one has heard from Jacobi… but it’s December who knows maybe he’ll be back by Christmas

#wolf 359 #post finale #mostly eiffel thoughts imo #ambiguous relationships

[runespoor7]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan and Solas (DA) Characters: Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Solas (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Jaws of Hakkon DLC, History, Diaspora Summary:

After the events of canon, a meeting between Lavellan and Solas.

#da:i #lavellan #solas #ambiguous relationships #it's complicated #which is true of the relationship and the rest #elven culture #that's what's complicated

[omni-scient-ramblings]

There is something to be said about ambiguous relationships

Especially after you break down amatonormativity in the way we see relationships

Saying I love you to friends for example, what do we mean by that?

"I love you"

I want you to be happy

"I love you"

I care about you

"I love you"

I'm glad you're in my life

Platonic, romantic, or somewhere in between, especially in media's where "I love yous" are never spoken

It's shown in the gestures instead

In the way you remember I like my food

In the way you showed up for me without me having to ask

In the way you see me and understand what I'm going through

In the way I know what you're thinking without you ever having to say a thing

It's never said but the "I love you" is there

And when it is said you can feel the weight of it

More than just a passing phrase it means something that never has to be defined

I tell you I love you and I might mean it platonically, I might mean it romantically, I might not even know what I mean

But we know that the "I love you" means more than what I have to say it is

Because all "I love you" has to mean is that I want you in my life

It means I'm glad you're here

It means please don't leave

It means follow your joy

It means whenever you need me I'm there

I love you

I love you

I love you

#panda rambles #panda posts #love #ambiguous relationships #ambiguity #aromantic #aro #arospec #amatonormativity #i love you

[ohhmydyosfics]

(Taerae-centric)(Mattrae) love is a bridge

There’s more he wants to say, but he can’t figure out how to let it out. There’s a distance he can’t breach, between himself and whatever’s hiding behind his teeth, that thing that refuses to come out and let itself be known. The memory of Matthew’s smile in the sunset haunts him, asking him where all the love he felt in that moment went. 

Taerae tries to write a song.

#love is a bridge #Mattrae #Matthew #Seok Matthew Matthew Seok #Seok Woohyun #Taerae #Kim Taerae #ZB1 #Zerobaseone #fanfic #oneshot #pining #pre-poly #character study #religious themes #ambiguous relationships

[btschooseafic]

AO3 Recs

a comedy of errors by aprofessorstale [completed]

Ot7, yoongi x ot6, yoongi centric, asexual characters, aromantic characters, gender queer, ambiguous relationships (they all just love each other in some way or another and that’s beautiful)

Yoongi thinks his friends are straight. Yoongi’s friends thought he was straight. The reveal has everyone reeling and reaching for intimacy in new ways

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic recs #ot7 #ot6 x yoongi #asexual character(s) #gender queer character(s) #aromantic character(s) #ambiguous relationships #polyam #sex scenes i'm okay with even when i'm sex repulsed #i have a soft spot for jungkook and no one is surprised #min yoongi #yoongi centric #ao3 #archive of our own #aprofessorstale

[apolloapathy]

hyacinth

"This pain. It's endless, isn't it?"

She turned to me. Her face was expressionless. No judgement, or burden. I wanted to laugh. Even now, when she was trying her best, old habits were hard to break.

"It seems to be that way," she replied. I didn't know if it was an answer to my question, or if she could read my mind. There were so many things I still didn't know about her. I wondered if I still had a lifetime to learn.

We began to walk. The world around us was a blur. I was only conscious of one step after the other, my gaze straight ahead. I didn't want to stop walking. I wanted to keep going and going until my legs gave out. Would they ever? 

She followed me without complaint. How long had it been this way?

"Will you follow me no matter how long this pain lasts?" I speak aloud. I do not know if I say it because I want her to answer.

Her steps rang in my ears. Left, right, left, right, in tandem with mine.

"I will be here for as long as you can perceive me."

I stopped. She paused right by my side.

I stayed silent for a moment. I looked up at the sky, and wondered if the tears could finally fall. But the world around me was still turning. I knew I couldn't cry. I wiped my tears away and kept walking. She followed me.

"Thank you. For always being by my side," I mutter.

"You don't have to thank me, Utena. I can't always walk beside you. When your mind is in shambles, I am unable to reach you. I have done nothing to be grateful for."

I kept walking.

"If you are unable to reach me... what will you do?"

She responded without a moment's hesitation. "Search for you, so I may walk beside you once more. I have spent an eternity to find you, and I'll spend another, if I must."

I could finally find myself laughing. What was it that I felt? Joy, confusion, relief? All three? Or was this love?

Love.... I realized neither of us knew what love meant. But perhaps, in this endless journey, we would learn.

#utena #shoujo kakumei utena #rgu #anthy #utenanthy #revolutionary girl utena #after the revolution #ambiguous relationships

[mariondanslorage]

J'ai envie de ta douceur. J'en ai besoin. Besoin d'un mot qui fait fondre les montagnes. D'un geste qui embrase les forêts sinistres. Qui tient les monstres éloignés, un geste feu de cheminée. Tes lèvres, nuage dans l'obscurité. Ta main, refuge dans l'immensité.

J'ai besoin que tu me rassures. Me laisse pas m'effondrer. J'suis complètement dépendante, et même pas sûre de t'aimer. C'est ton corps qui me rassure, ta chaleur n'a pas d'égal... Ton âme, une étrangère, alliée ou ennemie que sais-je?

J'ai besoin de ta douceur... Me laisse pas mourir gelée. Seule, comme toutes ces nuits où j'ai tremblé. Je sais même pas d'où vient cette peur. C'est terrifiant, sans respirer... Ta main pourrait me libérer. Sur ma gorge, pour me rendre la vie. Sur ma gorge pour me tuer.

#love or hate #love or lust #ambiguous relationships #words #french #amour ou haine #amour ou désir

[dnffics]

calico

by indigoh

Rated T, 2 chapters, 22.2k words

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ambiguous Relationships, Mutual Pining

Summary:

On the eve of Dream's 24th birthday, Patches goes missing. And it's all George's fault.

#mod.recs #dnf #dnf fic #dnf fanfic #dreamnotfound #angst with a happy ending #multichap #ambiguous relationships #mutual pining

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph

Do you know of any fics where Sherlock finds out he is in love with John, but John already knows, and they are actually already in a relationship or something.

I know it is specific, but I love this trope.

I already have read the Unkissed series, which has this trope.

Love you blog hope you've got something for me 😄

Hi Lovely!

You might enjoy these lists:

Do They Know They’re In A Relationship?

Ambiguous Relationships

Friends With Benefits

Those will definitely have what you're looking for :)

Anyone have any other suggestions for us???

And thank you for your beautiful comment!! :D Glad you enjoy it here :)

#steph replies #johnlock fic reqs #help steph find fics #do they know they're in a relationship #ambiguous relationships