#fic: how forever feels

[madneywedding]

sentences sunday

thank you for tagging me @jeeyuns and @wildlife4life 🥰

more from madney wedding fic, which i really hope will be *fingers crossed* posted by the end of next week 🫶

Eddie politely averts his eyes as Buck discreetly tries to brush away the tears that are forming. “I’m sorry,” he says, letting out a weak laugh. “I really am happy for them, you know?” he gestures to where Maddie and Chimney are jumping up and down with Jee in the middle of the dance floor. Chimney holds Jee up high and twirls her and Maddie around, and Maddie’s face is radiant in the glow of the fairy lights around them. “She looks so happy. She deserves to be that happy after everything she’s been through. Both of them do. I just wish…” Buck cuts himself off, looking embarrassed. “That you could have that too?”  Eddie knows. He sees it in the way Buck looks for love in every place he goes — the way Buck’s eyes light up and his smile turns fond at the sight of a teenage couple holding hands over the table at a coffee shop, the way he waves at every single baby he sees, often pulling silly faces to get them to giggle when he passes them, and the way his eyes linger on every older, greying couple they pass while grocery shopping. He sees it in the way Buck reassures every anxious, worried partner of the victims they meet on calls.

tagging @housewifebuck @diazblunt @shitouttabuck @captain-hen @loserdiaz and anyone else who wants to do it :)

#tag games #buddie #911 #rae writes #rae.txt #fic: how forever feels

[simplykorra]

their relationship is very important to me

#ava silva #chanel #warrior nun #warriornunedit #avasilvaedit #alba baptista #may simón lifschitz #like think of how desperate ava was to be accepted and loved #and tho it isn't a lot #this moment here where chanel takes the time to help her get ready #to tell her she's pretty and worthy of someone's time #look at how happy ava is #feeling like the girl she's always wanted to be for the very first time #so yeah #this friendship will forever be a part of my fics in some way #myedits

[highdefinitions]

when dew first changed from water to fire, he cut his hair. left it all over the bathroom for days until he finally let mountain into his room to check on him. mountain cleaned it up silently, behind a closed door and choked sobs.

and by the time he actually even goes down near the lake again, his hair had just grown down past his jaw. he didn't go swimming again until it was nearly past his shoulders.

the first time dew went swimming again, he nearly drowned. it had been months by then after his transition into a fire ghoul, and he hadn't been able to sleep—burdened by the urge to go down to the water. so he does. he gets up out of bed and wanders the halls, pausing just outside of the new water ghoul's room. he almost knocked, almost asked rain to come with him, but he stopped himself, and went alone. he went down to the lake alone, and stood at the end of the dock, and then closed his eyes and jumped in.

he failed to consider that he wasn't going to be as good as he used to be in the water. he couldn't hold his breath for as long, couldn't go as deep as he wanted to, and it nearly cost him his life. because he tried. he tried to swim down to the bottom and just be, to quiet the noise in his head, to stamp out the draw to the water that was no longer his. he couldn't hold his breath for as long as he used to, couldn't handle the pressure—couldn't even make it more than halfway to the bottom. he couldn't swim to the surface as fast as he used to be able to.

so his muscles screamed from the strain. his ears popped, eyes felt like they were going to explode. his lungs burned. for one feeble moment, he felt like he was actually going to die, that he'd never make it to the top and the one thing that had previously made him was going to kill him.

but then he broke the surface, swam to shore. he dragged himself up onto the sand, soaking wet and shivering. he drew his knees up to his chest, let his head hang between them.

and he cried for everything he just lost.

#percy writes #this was longer than i wanted it to be but. blurb. i guess #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #ghost the band #this is just like. bullshit by the way but have it #i've had this sitting in my docs for forever and actually had like half a fic written for it but it didn't pan how i wanted so (flopped) #have some angst #i told you listening to mumford & sons for days on end would have an impact #called it end of the water (feel) for a while

[peachcitt]

from: thirteen by @anna-scribbles

art by me :)

start from the beginning // read the november chapter // read the most recent chapter (january)

hey listen. look me in my eyes. have you read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think if you want your life to be forever changed you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. i think if you are a person who is breathing and alive you need to read thirteen by anna scribbles. thank you

#thirteen #miraculous ladybug #ml art #emilie agreste #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fic #ml fic rec #my art #THIS IMAGE HAS BEEN HAUNTING THE INSIDE OF MY BRAIN EVER SINCE I READ THE NOVEMBER CHAPTER BACK IN NOVEMBER #now. listen. in an ideal world i would've done this way back in november but uhhhhhhh i don't know what happened. suddenly it was december #and now it's february! not sure how that happened. anyway my goal is to be making a piece of art for each chapter to convey #just how fucking INSANE this fic makes me feel. like how crazy and insane and awesomely constructed it is. anna just GETSSSS ITTTTTTT #(and is using her 'get it' ability to hurt me bodily) #like with every chapter i read i am just assaulted with this intense desire to Make An Image which is not really an impulse im used to #since i don't draw a ton but anna's voice is just so evocative of images in a way that just. inspires every creative impulse inside of me #i took forever to read the december chapter but the moment i read it i already had an idea of something i wanted to draw for it. #my idea is. well. complex for me to say the least but as i told anna i am determined to make my skills match whatever i need to do because #the way she writes it is literally haunting me it is shooting me with a gun it is so something i have no idea how to handle #except i guess to repeat her themes and ideas and imagery in a collage of sorts #i don't know that's what my october chapter comic felt like- a collage. and this one does too in a way even though it's very different #i just like connecting the dots. and then smashing the dots together in an image #anyway. read thirteen. it is changing me all the way down to the dna

[prince-liest]

I’m a sex-repulsed ace, and reading the latest chapter of 666 (as well as your analysis here on Tumblr) made me realize that I have been subconsciously thinking about MY OWN sexuality from an allo perspective? And that it has kinda been messing me up?? Like, ever since I learned that sexual attraction was actually a Thing and that it’s Important To People, I had been carrying around a fear of being deficient in some way and not being able to love to the same extent as allos. (1)

Even though I know logically that’s complete garbage and totally untrue, I felt left out of the loop because people seemed to care strongly about this thing I couldn’t even imagine. Whenever it looked like a relationship might happen I panicked for a reason that I couldn’t understand. But now I’m starting to realize that it’s because I was subconsciously terrified of an ‘ulterior motive’ behind the other person’s reasons for wanting to be with me. (2) That part of the reason they even cared was because of something I don’t experience. So thank you, because this realization just clicked into place while reading your work. The thing is, this way of thinking was just internalized in such a way that I didn’t even realize it was there until literally this week. And I think you’re right; one of the main reasons behind that is because I’ve always consumed media written from an allo perspective. (3) If ace/aros are shown at all, they’re depicted as “lacking” and their character development usually revolves around being “fixed” by the story. When I was ~10 years old my mom sometimes let me watch the Big Bang Theory with her (looking back, maybe not the best decision). Anyways, there was one episode deep into the series where Sheldon (who for the past nineish seasons was probably the closest thing to mainstream ace rep) has sex with his girlfriend for the first time. (4) Afterwards, he says something along the lines of “that was better than I thought it would be”, and it’s presented as a Very Good Thing and a big step in their relationship. I think a lifetime of stuff like that makes it very easy to internalize aphobia and feel like the lesser part of the relationship. Or to feel like the other partner is making a huge sacrifice to be with you. That got wayy too long, sorry. All that was just a lot of words to say that I appreciate you. Take care of yourself!(5)

The portrayal of asexuality that you see in media being almost exclusively as you described is very tedious to me because it presumes that something is inherently lacking in aro/aceness rather than that feeling of "lacking" being something that is induced by societal norms. Actually, one of the things that I find additionally alienating is that fandom spaces specifically have been getting better and better about ace characters - but got damn does fandom not jive with aromanticism. Like, a character doesn't want to fuck? That's becoming a liiiittle more fine, it's 2024, we stan consent. But not shipping someone romantically?? Not so easy, now.

I'm glad that my work has been something that resonated with you in this respect! Alastor cares a lot about his reputation as a demon but is pretty blatantly a person who could not possibly give less of a shit about being "wrong" for not being experiencing romantic or sexual attraction. The explanation Viv gave at one point for his own understanding of himself (that he thinks he's just "waiting for the right woman") actually stuck out to me a lot because it's a very "well, nothing is wrong with me for not feeling anything, it's the world that's failed to produce a suitable person" perspective.

But having that kind of confident perspective of your own rightness in the world is really not often portrayed in media, or even in fandom, which even ten years ago was still in the throes of standardizing "Oh, no! Me, gay? These feelings are so wrong!" style m/m content and is honestly not that far off from essentially that for aro/ace characters.

Anyway, all of that is to say that there's not yet much out there that doesn't frame allo/amatonormative values as the default that "even aro/ace people can (and should want to) achieve," and that it's really fun to write a fic that is unequivocally from the perspective of a character who is aroace and doesn't see it as even remotely a fault in himself. Does he have moments where he's a little confused and trying to process how things fit for him? Absolutely. But he just doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who thinks he owes romance to Vox of all people, hahaha. I've written him trying to conform to allo/amatonormativity more with Mimzy, because I think the social standards of their time could push him into it, but Vox? Absolutely not, he does not respect Vox enough for it to even enter his mind.

And then, on the other hand, writing it from an aroace perspective centers the way that romantic and sexual interest can feel like a betrayal of a good thing. With a character like Alastor, it frames romantic and sexual attraction the same alien way that we usually see aromanticism and asexuality framed as.

In the end, this is just one of a plethora of different experiences that aro/ace people can have, but it's one that I really wanted to see represented more, so I'm very happy to write it. I'm glad that you're enjoying it!

#ask #personal #Anonymous #long post #t #aroace #ace #he cares about Vox at this point! #but that's. not really the same as respecting him. #anyway this next chapter is important to me because it's very #how do I put this #“this was okay at the moment but that doesn't mean he's okay with it overall and forever” #“and it does not mean that they've 'progressed' their relationship to the point where Alastor being aroace is a 'nonissue'” #“(feat. ofc the heavy implication that it was an issue in the first place)” #ANYWAY. SOMETIMES I HAVE A HARD TIME EXPRESSING THIS IN NON-FIC WORDS #SO HOPEFULLY THE FIC AS IT CONTINUES SPEAKS FOR ME. I AM GLAD THAT IT HAS SPOKEN TO YOU SO FAR <3 THANK YOU!! #sexuality #my writing #hazbin hotel #this is a hot button topic atm and it took me a minute to write a reply #that didn't seem like it invited discourse lmfao #actually I still feel weird posting my opinion this strongly oops OH WELL

[dirtytransmasc]

when you read an absolutely heart wrenching, soul destroying, tear jerking, yet simultaneously sweet, hilarious, down right beautiful fic you've ever read in your life, you've gone through every stage of grief, you've cried, you've laughed, you've mourned... and you have to act normal to everyone around you....

I hate this

#it was “pretty crow��� by starkmeknot on ao3 #is was a #jonmund #fic #and I will literally never cope #ever #part of my soul is missing #forever #I will never get it back #(I will reread this fic as many times as my heart allows despite this fact) #go read it #but dear lord this feeling is god awful #how do I tell the average person how I literally want to keel over and die right now over a fic

[chryblossomjjk]

#literally this #extremely sad how adhd isn’t recognized n severely underdiagnosed in women #only got diagnosed w it n other things as an adult #n now it’s much harder to develop coping mechanisms but #we move lol #a win is a win #so if u guys are ever wondering why kiki rambles about bs that nobody cares about #n then over thinks n deletes all posts #or is v sensitive #n takes forever to yield any fic bc never satisfied w work #✨adhd brain✨ #also friends #gentle reminder to pls advocate for yourself #like you know your body and mind more than anyone #and if you feel like something is lacking or you need help #pls push for it #bc sometimes the healthcare system is #yk #but yeah #it’s super scary but there’s also so much relief in receiving a diagnosis #like you made it this far without knowing #the only thing that changes once you receive the diagnosis is that you have more access to tools than you’ve ever had maybe #yeah #anyways #love you all #n i hope you’re happy and healthy #n i hope you have a support system #and if you don’t currently you will in the future #if you ever need to talk or anything #im here

[possumsquat]

a redraw of the fanart i made for @writevale's fic Strings between the stars

#art #the magnus archives #tma #tim stoker #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #elias bouchard #fanart #fanfic #writevale #i made that original like what? two or three years ago? #shows you how good it is thag i'm still thinking abt it three years later #but i just reread it.... finished it in two days it's forever one of my favorites #it's just so unique and well thought out and the story is so compelling.... it hardly feels like a fanfic at points #i'm not even super crazy abt jonmartin im more of a jontim guy but it's just so GOOD #go READ IT #it's so fucking scary too #i feel like a lot of tma fics focus on the sappy shit or angsty shit and there's nothing wrong with that #but it's so GOOD to read an honest to god fic with genuine horror in it #good Shit #thank you writevale kisses you

[callmehere-iwillappear]

rec list (last updated: 10/22/23)

aka 'if you liked [cmh] you might also like [insert other really good fic here]' bc there are So Many amazing fics out there good lird

few things. first off if you see a disaster twins bias no you don't. second i tried to find all the authors' tumblrs but there were some i couldn't - if you know any of the ones i missed let me know!

aaand third, there are just. SO many good fics i ended up splitting things up. this is the rec post for multi chapter fics, here's the one shot rec post

Multichapter Fics

Complete

A Twin Thing (@minumi-chan)

Four times Donatello rejects Leo's notion of them being twins, and the once (and future) time he embraces it.

GOD THE TWINS EVER.... funny in parts but also hurts in the best possible way and thankfully has a happy ending to soothe the pain. i literally love them so much

Because We Could Not Stop For Death (@turtleinsoup)

After Leo dies, Donnie builds an android of his twin. After Leo dies, he comes back. He does. And Donnie will not ever let him go again.

very very very very VERY heavy please mind the warnings but god. god. another take on the 'leo dies in the prison dimension' concept that btw WILL make you cry. like a lot. absolutely incredible study of grief. i am never going to be the same person after reading this

coming right on back for you (@taizi)

Rise!Mikey’s portal in the prison dimension takes Leo a little bit farther than he meant for it to. 12!Mikey finds a familiar-looking stranger.

soooo full disclosure i haven't actually watched 2012 tmnt. that said even without that, this fic rules. incredibly soft and heartwarming. i love them

Corrupted Upgrade (@dandylovesturtles)

His brothers think they don't need him anymore? Well, fine. He doesn't need them either. The old Donatello is gone. He'll build a new one. One that will make them regret they ever threw him aside. Building things is what he's good at, after all.

i can't say too much without spoiling the twist, but oh MAN guys it's real good. come get your donnie hurt/comfort juice rn. also for a hurt/comfort fic it has NO RIGHT being so funny so often

Dimensions Apart & Home Again

"Who said I'm hiding?" Leo scoffs. Normally he wouldn't take such a sharp tone, but he's tired and not in the mood for what he feels to be an interrogation in his own bedroom. "You all know where I am. I live here, remember?" “Yeah, very funny. And you know where we live. But nobody's seen you for two weeks.”

ooohhh post movie hurt/comfort my beloved... leo is isolating and donnie kicks his ass. metaphorically. mostly. meanwhile raph and mikey are also having a certified Bad Time but it's okay they all get comfort by the end

Havoc, Thy Name is Donnie

Donnie accidentally turns himself into a child while experimenting with mystic power. It's cute until Donnie gets his hands on his older self's tech and then it's really uncute and Leo and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. are having a heart attack.

child donnie is an absolute MENACE and it's INCREDIBLE. terrorizes leo. terrorizes shelldon. terrorizes some random criminals. terrorizes april. terrorizes draxum. all in the course of a single day. 12/10

how to get very good at juggling (@radishhqueen)

The Krang invasion put a couple of things in perspective for April. One of them was how much she wanted her parents to meet the Hamatos. The only difficult part is…getting her parents to meet the Hamatos.

the turtles meet april's parents! it goes... about as well as can be expected. REALLY good april centric post movie fic

little kid with a big death wish (@remedyturtles)

Leo's mind rebelled against the sensation. The heaviness burst into awareness, body, limbs, lungs, blinking. The middle distance he'd apparently been staring in focused. Leo was awake. Leo was aware. Leo was alive. Being alive wasn't something he thought he'd be.

genuinely don't think i could ever recommend this fic enough. mind the warnings as it does get very heavy but. god. idk how to express how much this fic means to me in just a few sentences but like. you'll understand if you read it (also for. an actual summary: post movie recovery fic with a side of extra leo)

Nothing Haunts Us (like the things we don't say)

The boys learn the hard way that truths can hurt. Well, some of them.

truth spellllll you love to see it! lotta post movie angst + some good comfort at the end + bonus the boys actually being emotionally vulnerable and talking about their issues (even if it's not 100% by choice)

Trial and Error (@apatheticrobots)

Leo ends up in the past. This changes some things.

YES the healing (well. eventually).... big fan of the leos' dynamic in this one. also that One Scene (the one with the animatic. if you know you know) gives me goosebumps EVERY time good god

Unfinished business

When one dies leaving something undone, there's a belief, that they do not go gentle into that good night. They linger on until they've finished what they couldn't while alive. And for four turtles, that business is using the Poltergeist movie as inspiration.

bad future ending but make it HILARIOUS. tldr the future turtles haunt the SHIT out of the krang. that's all i'm giving you because that's all you should need. they fucking rick roll them. please

Use Only For Intended Purpose (me!)

That's probably not how mind melds are supposed to work.

sorry for reccing my own fic do you still love me /j BUT FR if you like post movie disaster twins hurt/comfort with a side of dream sharing. i got u

Where in the World is Neon Leon?

Leo practices portalling on his own. This is not a good idea for many, many reasons.

set over the course of the show + the movie! aka leo trying so so hard to be seen as reliable and getting incredibly fucked up over it. also making new friends

write this down on my headstone (it wasn't what i hoped for) (@bottledovercast)

it’s as he drifts listlessly through the cold-as-shit hellscape that leo’s willing to admit, maybe this wasn’t what raph meant. aka: i do not believe for one second that there were No Problems in between getting leo out of the prison dimension and the final scene of the movie.

i genuinely do not know how to do this one justice with words. it's written impeccably and the hurt/comfort is just. chefs kiss. please read it (+ has a sequel now that's also absolutely incredible!)

In progress

At My Worst (@teainthesnow)

Future Leo ends up back in time, stuck in the body of his younger self, who is still conscious but trapped within his mind.

genuinely LOVE this concept like there's a lot of (really good) future leo goes back in time fics but i'm pretty sure this is the only one i've read with them sharing a body? god the dynamic is. SO good. one of my fave future leo + present leo dynamics ever tbh. just. chefs kiss

I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good (@dandylovesturtles)

Leo is cursed by a mystic whatever thingy. But don't worry guys, he's totally got this! Getting back into his body? Easy peasy. (He hopes it will be easy peasy.)

will smith poses fellow ghost(ish) leo fic my beloved! ngl this one kinda has a special place in my heart so i May be biased BUT even aside from that it's just. so good. the premise is so interesting and it's written super well and in character and also i would like to give leo a hug PLEASE GOOD GOD

I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? (@tangledinink)

When Hamato Yoshi is presented with the chance to return to the surface with his sons and give them a 'normal' life as humans, he takes it. He didn't think that they would forget about that whole turtle thing. But it seems kind of too late to tell them now. Surely they won't find out any other way, right?

human au! ... kind of. actually brooches au but they THINK they're human which is fine until, y'know, it's not. currently in the 'not' part of the fic and it's just going really great for everyone! you love to see it

In Which Donnie and Leo Make Themselves Everyone Else's Problem in an NYC That Isn't Even Their Own

It was a huge mistake on the Kraang's part to kidnap the wrong half of the wrong set of brothers and leave behind two very worried twins. And not just any twins. The disaster twins.

another crossover with 12tmnt which. again i have not seen, but like. this fic is just. REALLY good. it's set pre movie so there's not that trauma, it's literally just the twins fucking the 12 kraang up and living up to their nickname while the 12 turtles (and rise mikey and raph) look on in horror

i think i would prefer the prison dimension (@purplecatghostposts)

Leo gets sent to the Kraang Apocalypse Future that he really didn’t want to think about. Future Leo, Mikey, and Donnie are absolutely baffled by him. Nobody is happy.

you've heard of future leo in the present, now get ready for: present leo in the future! he gets dragged into the apocalypse instead of getting pulled out of the prison dimension back to his brothers and boy he is, understandably, Not Thrilled!

Last Grain of Sand in the Hourglass (@last-hourglass)

The one where the Hamato family is freaking the fuck out, Leo is lost in the Prison Dimension, and a very-time-displaced Leonardo refuses to leave his younger self behind. (Oh, and there may be some mystic hauntings afoot. You know, the usual result of messing with the space-time continuum.)

future leo gets saved while present leo stays in the prison dimension! there's A Lot going on in this one and half of it is BIG spoilers but just. oh my god. this shit is SO well written i am eating it

Mikey's Jam-Packed, Guaranteed to Get Donnie's Memory Back, Friendship Tour!

Donnie wakes up without his memory one day and everyone panics. They're just going to have to jog his memory the old-fashioned way! Through the power of friendship! [And a small (I was wrong. A very large) degree of violence and shenanigans]

donnie gets amnesia and SO SO MANY shenanigans ensue. also a tiny bit of angst but it's fine

Minor Interference (@bambiraptorx)

The turtles accept Draxum's offer to train them. Little does he know that they're only going to use it mess with him.

haha draxum accidental dad moments... well okay not entirely just yet but he's getting there! the turtles are PEAK teenager literally just causing problems on purpose and it's incredible

Mutant Ninja Midlife Crisis (@mutantninjamidlifecrisis)

In the midst of attempting to make peace with his death at the hands of the Krang, Master Leonardo is suddenly yeeted over two decades into the past, courtesy of his little brother.

YEAAHHH another future leo fic! mans gets dropped into the past and IMMEDIATELY kidnapped and brainwashed so things are going great (it's fine he gets better. you know how it is)

odd man out (@threestripeslider)

The one where Future!Leo somehow managed to luck out on a one in a million mere millisecond chance of a freak glitch in the space-time continuum that sends him back into the present, where the Invasion has been successfully driven back. And it looks like it was a one-way ticket travel.

DAD FUTURE LEO MY BELOVED.... he really took one look at these kids and said is anyone else gonna give them a third (3) dad and did not wait for an answer. also big fan of casey's high school adventures LMAO

Power Up

Leo also gets healing hands like his 2k12 counterpart. Sadly, they end up backfiring on him. Who needs to know though?

leo taking 'it's not about me' to the extreme. good god please get this kid some therapy and self worth. the AGONIES

The Lemonade Leak (@turtleinsoup)

The one in which Leo can’t sleep without his swords, because there is a monster in his room, pretending to be Donnie.

oh man. oh MAN. legit one of my fave fics out there. i'm not usually a big thriller person but this one GETS ME + the way the author writes the different perspectives is just. chefs kiss. genuinely has me on the edge of my seat every single update

The Neon Void

Five years. It's been five years. Hamato Leonardo was back. But he was no longer who he once was.

krangified leo! ... sort of. absolutely delicious angst and also i want to rattle leo's brothers. TALK TO EACH OTHER

Three-Sided Coin (@leglessstreetlights)

Highly self-indulgent fic where I put Leo, Future!Leo, and TurtleTot!Leo in the same room until they hug

what the description says! room is a bit of a stretch and present leo is fresh out of the prison dimension So There's That. some really sweet moments in this one though. tiny leo my beloved

this year we lost our dear brother leonardo

The aftermath of the Krang, and of pulling Leo out of the portal. 90% comfort and silly banter.

this is a series not a single wip but i'm saying it counts because i love it a lot. hope this helps <3 yeah what it says on the tin. immediately post movie family hours you love to see it

Times Five

Leo gets struck by a mystic beam that splits him into five parts of himself; literally.

god the TWIST. still losing my mind over it. the whole thing honestly. lotta dealing with leo's complicated emotions about the invasion and himself, really really good tbh

Write Me Well, My Love, Write Me Weird

When stories start popping up on various media outlets of the Turtleman, New York Cities own personal cryptid, most of the world shrugged. To the citizens of New York? fear, excitement, adoration for this odd and lovable creature. Everyone is quick to share stories and memories of their encounters, much to lament of Turtleman's older brother.

leo and donnie get spotted by humans (more than once) and said humans post about it on social media, as humans tend to do. raph is Not Thrilled. angst (and eventual comfort) ensues

#talk tag #fic recs #sorry abt my commentary i am NOT a film critic and there IS a reason for that </3 #kinda bounced between summarizing and just. going 'eating this eating this' and shit like that. u know how it is #anywayy read these fics. holding you all at gunpoint /j #not fic related #MAYYY update this and the other post bc there are 100% some i missed. just went through my subscriptions and marked for later and bookmarks #but i def feel like theres some i missed somehow. augh #but i dont wanna sit and stare at this forever agonizing over if im forgetting any SO. just shoving it at u all. enjoy

[madneywedding]

wip wednesday (thursday?)

thank you @captain-hen for tagging me 🥰

here's a snippet from the buddie roommates slash madney wedding planning slash evan buckley bisexual awakening fic!!

Once Chris finishes his cake, he looks over at Eddie and Eddie wordlessly slides over his own piece. But Chris doesn’t take it, his fork hovering in midair above the plate.  It’s instinct, to want to immediately ask what’s wrong, and it takes every fiber in Eddie’s being not to overwhelm him when he looks like he’s working up to something.   “Dad?” Christopher finally says, twisting in his mouth in an uncomfortable expression that reminds Eddie painfully of Shannon. He presses two fingers to the ever-persistent ache over his heart before tilting his head and gesturing for Chris to go on. Christopher points to the corner of the garden, right behind their makeshift dance floor, where Buck is standing there gazing blankly ahead, arms crossed and eyes vacant. “He looks really upset,” Christopher comments softly.  Eddie exhales, not knowing whether he should thank or curse the EMS gods or whatever other heavenly figure that Eddie doesn’t believe in that he somehow ended up with the most perceptive kid on the planet. “I know, buddy, I know.” Eddie sighs, leaning forward and brushing a hand through Christopher’s hair. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to help, though.”  Christopher turns that look on him, the one that ages him two decades and is a stark reminder that at age twelve, Christopher’s been through more than most people would experience in a lifetime. His voice is gentle and firm and all-knowing at the same time when he places a hand on Eddie’s arm, and says, “You can try.” 

tagging (pre-emptively for next week since i'm late) @housewifebuck @basiltonpitch @shitouttabuck @diazblunt and anyone else who wants to do this :)

#some of you have already seen this but i'm posting it anyway bc i love it and maybe posting it will inspire me to write more of this fic #tag games #buddie #911 #rae.txt #rae writes #fic: how forever feels

[shima-draws]

Slamming my head against the wall god fucking DAMMIT I'm so in love with Sanlu I am GOING to explode.

#One Piece #Sanlu #Sanji #Luffy #IDK WHAT IT IS!! IDK!!!! #Still love Zolu with all my heart but oh my GOD Sanlu. They are everything. #I might be reading too many fics bc it really feels like a fanon thing that Sanji's actually like #Really insecure and has low self-esteem #OR MAYBE THAT'S CANON IDK!! #But hnghhh Luffy being the one to be like. Hey I like you for you and not for your past #And I love everything about you and that's a FACT and not a lie and I want to keep you with me forever #AND I WILL NEVER REPLACE YOU WITH ANYBODY ELSE. YOU ARE MY COOK AND I DON'T EVER WANT ANOTHER #And Sanji craving affection and validation and praise SO bad that whenever Luffy gives it to him he wants to cry #BASHES MY HEAD INTO A TABLE AUUGHGHGHG SHUT UP!!!!! #MAYBE THAT'S FANON SANLU BUT YOU KNOW WHAT. I DON'T CARE IT'S SO GOOD #SLURPS THAT SHIT UP #Sanji especially feeling that he's not worthy enough for Luffy and thinking it'd be impossible to have him #So when Luffy actually does reciprocate he's in SHOCK bc how. How could Luffy pick HIM of all people #Cut to Sanji feeling like the LUCKIEST motherfucker on the planet bc he gets to have Luffy. SCORE. #Luffy blowing away all of his insecurities and anxieties and worry just by being himself and being so #STUPIDLY in love with him is just #HOLLERS AND SMACKS THE TABLE REPEATEDLY #ALSO IT DOESN'T HELP THAT OPLA MADE IT SO BLATANTLY OBVIOUS TOO #Luffy complimented his cooking one (1) time #And Sanji was like okay yup packing my bags for the Merry as we speak #When he smiles and looks a little flustered at Luffy's attention. #Oh my fucking god. Strangling myself. #THEY ARE EVERYTHING!!! #Shima speaks

[widevibratobitch]

ive been neck deep in fitzconte the last few days and it's amazing the things people can do with a character who has 4 minutes of screentime, says like three lines in total and also never actually directly interacts with the character the fandom decided is their bestie their pal their sweet cheese their good-time boy. and lover.

the cheetah is a homoerotic allegory yes yes we know.

#but the fics ive read. holy shit. there are so many incredible writers in this fandom. obsessed. #anyway. friendship ended with fitzier. now fitzconte is my best friend. #(<- a joke obv im a fitzier girlie forever and ever. but when you CONNECT the two... my goddd. now i feel im alive) #also its so funny how the fitzconte fics seem so much more like rpf than say fitzier etc cause like. #since we got next to nothing of these two in the show - the fic writers' obvious next step is to turn to their actual life history #since they were buddies irl and all. the clio shenanigans are just a well that keeps on giving. #where would we be without that cheetah fitzconte nation huh #the terror #fitzconte #i used to occasionally dab my fingers into this ship but now that ive read some fics where they're oh so delightfully toxic... im in love <3 #i still only like it in a very very specific way tho

[distant-velleity]

the true you

Summary: Chrysos sees Santiago's wings for the first time. It's your standard Chrytiago "they DEFINITELY have some kind of feelings for each other but won't admit it" fic. Word count: 2.4k+ A/N: Um so I may or may not have, to the detriment of my homework, had a burst of inspiration and written all this yesterday. O. Oops? Whatever <3 No beta we Overblot like pretty anime boys This takes place during Book 5 (bc haha themes of accepting and loving urself am i right) but the timeline is pretty muddled otherwise so. That's why a lot of usual characters aren't present and other things. Enjoy :)

~

Chrysos glares down at his phone, as if subjecting it to his scathing wrath will make a reply come any faster. He’s well aware of the awkward looks Yu and Jack are giving him and each other, but quite frankly, he doesn’t care. 

where are you? — Sent right before classes started.

hello? — Sent between first and second period.

are you sick?? — Sent during third period.

i swear to the seven if you don’t respond im gonna hunt you down. consider this your warning — Sent as soon as lunch break started.

It’s already halfway through lunch. Where the hell is he?

“Um, Chrysos,” Yu starts, reaching across the table to tap his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chrysos mutters angrily, not looking up.

Jack crosses his arms. “No need to be like that. He’s just asking a question.”

“Says you—” Chrysos inhales sharply, holds it, and then exhales. Deep breaths, now. Jack’s unfortunately right. “S…Sorry. It’s simply that Parro hasn’t been here all day, and he isn’t replying to my texts. He’s read them, but he isn’t replying.”

He looks up and sees Yu fidget, a telltale sign that the TA knows something. 

Chrysos narrows his eyes. “Are there circumstances I should be made aware of?”

“Oh… yeah.” Yu frowns. “There’s, um… a bit of a situation right now.”

“What?” ask Jack and Chrysos in unison.

Like a fish out of water, Yu opens and then immediately closes his mouth. He thinks deeply for a second, and then shakes his head. “I promised not to talk about the details,” he says, both apologetic and uncomfortable. “Santiago… really isn’t feeling it, so. You know. He’s still at Ramshackle until we can quote-unquote ‘get the situation under control.’”

“Right, but then he could at least—”

At least get over himself to tell me?

Chrysos stops himself, struck by shame. Isn’t he just taking Santiago’s usual enthusiasm for granted? It’s difficult not to, but if he were in Santiago’s position, then…

Being taken for granted really isn’t easy. He should know…

“Twisted Wonderland to Chrysos?” Jack asks gruffly.

Oh, he’s been quiet for a little too long.

“There’s no use in me just texting him,” Chrysos decides abruptly, turning off his phone. “I’ll seek him out once school ends. Then I’ll find a way to get answers, if I can’t get them out of you.”

He doesn’t miss the way Yu grimaces and shares a look—that he’s too stubborn to admit he cares, isn’t he one—with Jack. “Good luck. If anyone can get through to him… it’d better be you.”

…

“So, this is his room?” asks Chrysos.

“Yep. I’ll be at Pomefiore if you need me,” Yu tells him, and then leaves him alone in Ramshackle’s second-floor hallway. 

As much as Chrysos wants to just barge right in and demand answers, there are certain sensibilities he has to accommodate for. He sighs to take a moment for himself, observing—there’s a tray of food left by the door, on the ground, and totally untouched. Perhaps, if Santiago was holing himself up as reported, the rest of the NRC tribe had tried to offer him food…? And then he simply didn’t accept it, for whatever reason…

Chrysos’ frown deepens, and he knocks on the door.

“Santiago?” he calls, making sure to project his voice enough for the beastman to hear.

There’s a soft thud, a string of surprised curses, and what Chrysos swears is the sound of something flapping. 

“Chrysos?!” Santiago basically squawks. “Were you serious about hunting me down?”

“Oh, so you did read every single one of my texts!” Chrysos retorts. “I think I’m owed a bit of an explanation here.”

“Er, well…” Santiago’s voice grows small. Inside, something seems to rustle against the walls. “Um—it’s…”

Chrysos closes his eyes briefly. Stupid bird making me feel stupid feelings. “Listen,” he says a little more softly, though still firm. “I—” 

Missed seeing you in class? No. Nope. It’s only been a day. 

“...It’ll be better if you just rip the bandage off and tell me. Think about it, how many more classes can you miss like this?”

Santiago is quiet, and more fluttering noises come from inside the bedroom. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s… probably easier if you come inside first and see it for yourself,” he says reluctantly. “But—don’t judge! Please.”

Honestly, Chrysos has never heard Santiago—confident, flamboyant, mischievous Santiago—sound so insecure. Not even when their lives were actually at risk. It’s… odd. “Alright.”

Not really sure what to expect, he grabs the (unlocked, somehow) handle and pushes the door open—

Chrysos’ eyes widen.

Santiago is huddled on the bed by the window, the pale winter sun illuminating his hair. Wrapped tightly around his body are wings, red-and-blue feathers in shades that are just slightly duller than his hair. They’re lined a little oddly, though, messy and un-preened, and several lone feathers are scattered about on the floor. 

Frankly, though? Chrysos is in awe. “You… You have wings?” he asks, and immediately regrets how stupid he sounds.

“I’m a parrot beastman, Chrysos,” Santiago almost whines. “I can’t help it. They don’t normally look like this, I promise! Not all awkward and unclean and unnatural and—I don’t even have them at all, generally, but I ran out of the transformation potion and—”

“Hold on,” Chrysos interrupts, back to seriousness. “You take a transformation potion? Regularly? And no one’s noticed?”

Santiago wilts, nervously plucking at his own feathers. “The doses last really long since it’s a pretty weak potion, just enough to make me look relatively human—and I was supposed to get a refill over break, but the whole training camp thing happened, so I couldn’t—and now I’m out, so… hnnggh. Can you close the door already?”

Chrysos shuts it behind him without a second thought. Mostly because his brain is piecing together other, more significant matters—the fact that Santiago had mentioned never really having many friends, the diction he uses to describe his wings, the insecurity… 

Do you not see how gorgeous you are? Who the hell did this to you? 

Not that it’s hard to guess; society and the people it produces are vicious. Regardless of whether you’re on land or under the sea, it seems. 

Something must show on his face, because Santiago presses himself even further into the contradictory shame and safety of his wings. “You’re smart, you’ve probably figured it out already,” he mumbles. “I can’t stand the thought of… of everyone seeing me with my wings. I don’t care if it’s just my ‘human’ form, or when I’m using my signature spell, but”—he shudders—“people think it’s weird when I’m not visibly one or the other. Or at least they used to. And I don’t wanna have to deal with that here. I mean, can you imagine? I was doing just fine and getting along with people and then—”

The more Santiago rambles nervously, the more enraged Chrysos feels on his behalf. Maybe, it’s subconscious empathy from his own childhood, where his status protected him from fellow students at school but not from the arrogant mers of the aristocracy—

Inhale, exhale. Don’t give into your own grudges. Think about this rationally.

—okay. As furious as Chrysos feels, Santiago is being vulnerable with him, and for once he can’t just take advantage of that. With many others, he would—but in this case, he can’t. He just can’t. 

“So,” Santiago stammers out finally, “I don’t know if I can go back to class soon. Vil said he might look into brewing a temporary replacement, but he didn’t look too happy with my decision to hide my wings, so—you know. I just. I don’t think I can do it. I…I think I’ll just call in sick for a bit.”

He manages to pluck a feather from his wings, fidgeting out of stress in the silence Chrysos is leaving. If there’s any blood coming out, then it’s hard to tell through the matte crimson of his wings.

Shit.

Chrysos takes another deep breath.

Don’t make an impulsive decision. Don’t make an impulsive decision. Don’t m—

“I’ve heard enough. Come to Octavinelle with me,” he declares.

Santiago blinks at him. “Huh?”

Well, he’s said it already. No way he can back out now. Chrysos swallows. “I’m going to show you something.” And hopefully convince you of… something.

He watches the hesitation emerge clear on Santiago’s face. “But… I don’t want to go out—if people see me, then—”

“If they say anything out of line, you can ignore them, and I’ll teach them a lesson.”

Santiago worries his lower lip with his teeth, and doesn’t reply.

“As you said,” Chrysos says, “‘it’s best if you see it for yourself.’”

…

“What are you doing?” Santiago asks, incredulous, as Chrysos starts taking off his own uniform piece by piece.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that” Chrysos mutters, carefully undoing his bowtie so his necklace stays on. “It’s just easier to transform with less clothes on.”

Santiago’s eyes light up with a realization, and he almost stands up from where he’s sort of just perched on a bench. “‘Transform’? So, you mean—you’re showing me your mer form?”

“Mm-hmm. Hold this.” Down to basically just his shirt and slacks, Chrysos hands Santiago the articles of clothing he’s shed, and steps out of his shoes. 

“I thought…” Santiago’s lips press into a line. “Honestly, I thought you were just never gonna show me. Or that you didn’t want to.”

Ah. There it is.

Chrysos stares at the water of the pool—pristine and free of chemicals, since it’s made specifically to accommodate merfolk. “Well… I’m not sure if I’m as ashamed of my true form as you are.” Thinking about it now, though, he probably wouldn’t have shown it to Santiago unless it was necessary, like that time at Camp Vargas. Maybe that makes him a hypocrite. “But we’re not here to talk about ‘would have’s and ‘could have’s. How much do you know about merfolk culture?”

“Oh, uh…” Santiago seems surprised by the sudden topic redirection. “Not a lot, actually. It’s mostly only what I’ve heard from you.”

Chrysos sighs—not at Santiago, but at the facts he has to remind himself of. “Merfolk tend to value more human-like appearances, especially those who come from more populated settlements. I’m sure you’ve seen the stereotypical half-human, half-fish depiction of our kind; those are the kind of merfolk who are considered attractive and worth people’s time.”

He turns his back on Santiago to step over to the pool’s edge, sit down, and let his feet enter the water. Almost immediately, as soon as he starts imagining it, they start merging back into his ever-familiar tail. Magic takes care of the whole clothing issue, and consequently, he starts feeling the weight of his fins and spines.

Behind him, Chrysos can hear his uniform being put down and Santiago excitedly scurrying over.

“W-Wait—” He holds up a hand, conveniently hiding his face since he’s not ready to be perceived like that—not in the middle of his transformation—and stopping Santiago. “Let me… finish,” he says, a little lamely and clipped.

Chrysos eases himself down into the water, letting himself fully shed his ‘human’ appearance. When he’s fully submerged, he gives himself a few moments—looking down at his webbed hands, his scales, his angry red patterns and venomous spines…

(“Of course, what else could you expect from a monster like that?” — Said one of the king’s associates.

“Positively magnificent!” — said Rook and Vil when they caught a glimpse of his mer form.)

…Well, now Chrysos is pretty sure what message he’s trying to get across to Santiago. 

He swims back up and resurfaces, holding onto the pool’s edge; right next to where Santiago is sitting, posture more relaxed, as if he’s temporarily forgotten about his wing predicament.

“Woah,” Santiago breathes, looking… awestruck? “You’re so…” He gestures vaguely with a hand, wings fluttering. “...beautiful, I don’t know. Like—Seven, I know that sounds weird, and I hope you don’t tell anyone I said that aloud, but.”

Chrysos opens his mouth, closes it, and looks very intently at the tiles. I could say the same for you, he thinks, but immediately shuts that down. Don’t get distracted. “Well, that’s… not what I was taught to think. Merfolk like myself, and the Leeches—we aren’t exactly viewed favorably. I suppose it was the same for you. People are so shallow sometimes.”

Santiago’s wings droop. “...Yeah.”

“But,” continues Chrysos, “I—I wasn’t trying to make this about me. What I’m saying is—you showed me the you that you’re afraid will be criticized, so the favor should be returned. And it’s a reminder that it’s stupid to just go along with the standards other people think you should adhere to. If everyone under the sea was exactly 50% human-looking and 50% fish, then it’d just be… well, I’d rather live the rest of my life enduring Trein’s lectures.”

“At least it’s balanced.” Still, the witty comment has Santiago snickering genuinely. 

Chrysos ignores the way his heart skips a beat from the sound of it. “Riiight. Anyway, if everyone on land looked wholly human, then it’d be ridiculous too. Wouldn’t it?”

“I guess, yeah,” Santiago admits. He looks over one shoulder to examine his wing, back muscles flexing. “When you put it that way, it’s kinda like…” He glances down at the ground. “...this is all kind of pointless. There’s people who aren’t gonna be happy about my existence anyway, so I might as well embrace it.”

“So I’m finally getting through to you,” Chrysos deadpans. 

Santiago kicks, playfully splashing water at Chrysos. “Let me have my epiphany in peace! When I preen and get my shine back, you’re gonna regret talking to me like that.”

He doesn’t say it, but a part of Chrysos is glad that this part of their dynamic isn’t changing. With any tension having already faded like bubbles rising to the distant surface, he smirks. “You’ll be taking my words to heart, then?”

“Honestly, I’m, uh, not sure how I’ll handle sitting in class with my wings,” replies Santiago, “but I’m just gonna have to deal with it. Using all those transformation potions is… I knew it for a while, but it was just the easy way out. I’ll tell Vil he doesn’t need to brew anything for me.”

If nothing else, it’s a start.

“In that case”—Chrysos points a clawed finger at Santiago, a mock warning—“I’d better see you in class tomorrow.” 

“Aww, you missed me that much?” 

Santiago smiles back at him. 

“Don’t worry—I still wouldn’t miss annoying you in the middle of a lecture for the world.”

~

taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @casp1an-sea @elenauaurs @nahelenia

(for some of you guys on my normal/art taglist, i didn't tag you bc i don't know if you want to be tagged in fics, so 😭if that needs to be changed let me know)

#kai's writing #twst oc #chrysos pendentif #santiago parro #wowww i havent posted a chrytiago fic in how long? feels like it's been forever #i miss them i miss their banter #sighhhs im sad that they went to different vargas camps but this way i have plot-supported reasoning for this fic

[reliablejoukido]

Someone just gave me a shit sandwich comment on a fic and it’s like… don’t do this. Don’t do this to me and don’t do it to other people.

#now I’m going to be thinking about this comment forever—thanks person! #no I didn’t get the character ‘wrong’… I just wrote them in the way I wanted oh my god #I’m just going to keep adding tags to this until I feel better about it #I’m looking online at the definition of shit sandwich and I wish there was a more accurate way to describe this kind of comment #it’s the— I love this but you are wrong but this other part was nice #like bro I’m not wrong????? but now I’m going to second guess myself??? #even though there’s no such thing as being wrong about a fictional character that you are writing a fanwork about #because you are allowed to interpret that character however you want #sorry friends I should probably delete this #it’s just one comment #except actually it’s not. the person has been reading my fic all day and commenting on chapters as they go #and some of the other comments have been like ‘you should change this thing actually because it makes more sense the way I say it does #like LORD how do I respond nicely to this person? #I’m dreading the couple chapters they have left

[discountsoysauce]

I talk about Victor and Eli a lot but like. I wanna take a minute to talk about Stell. Mostly bc I'm thinking of my fic rn and how helpless he is to his situation despite being the director of EON. He's supposed to be in charge of the entire operation and yet there are constantly things he either has no knowledge of or no control over. And that's So interesting to me

#stell isnt helpless by any means but he also has very little control over his own operation #he wants to do what he can to protect the public from dangerous people while also not bringing harm to anyone he doesnt have to #and yet hes constantly undermined and pressured by the board of directors into going against his own morals and instincts #and hes just such a character dude #i loved writing the Eli manipulation scene because it shows just how powerless Stell feels in his own operation #and how Eli uses that to get what he wants #like in canon but under different circumstances #unfortunately hes probably not gonna appear again for a good while if ever #but ugh hes such an interesting character #hes clearly against what happened to Eli with Dr Haverty #but he thinks its okay to keep all EOs in cages forever #he doesnt want violence but hes pushed into it at every turn #he just wants to have some agency #vicious ve schwab #director stell #vengeful ve schwab #villains series #vicious #vengeful #villains duology #im talking about my time travel fic but also about canon

[synonymroll648]

no hummingbirds, no butterflies (just soft whirrs & peaceful daylight)

pairings/relationships: queerplatonic keefex, minor mentions of dex’s dynamics with his parents, + referenced dadwin (keefe & elwin as a parent-son duo of sorts)

tws: minor (autistic) overstimulation, anxiety, touch starvation, swearing, implied sexual humor (keefe’s here, what’d you expect), and i think that’s it - but please let me know if there’s more that should be added! 

summary: “I—okay, fine. You’re not patient with gadgets or alchemy or anything that’s a project,” Keefe laughs, and then his voice goes…gentle. Like midnight rain. “But you’re patient with people. You’re patient with me.”

You’re patient with me, Keefe says, and Dex thinks, What an interesting way to say ‘I love you’. 

-

OR: An exploration of what Keefe and Dex’s dynamic could’ve been if Keefe hadn’t run off to the forbidden cities.

additional notes: happy final day of @keefex-week 2023, even if this is for the day 1 prompt queerplatonic! i started this fic back in feburary as an ayyam-i-ha gift for the one and only wonderful @bookwyrminspiration​, but didn’t finish in time, and then i tried finishing it in time for its tumblr bday, and didn’t finish in time for that either. but at least i finished in time for this! i hope you enjoy the third draft of keefex being queerplatonic and neurodivergent (i wrote this with autistic!dex in the front of my mind. also, this entire fic was inspired by this keefex shitpost i made [and the really gay eckodon scene in book 4].) comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!

word count: 6.4k

ao3 link (recommended)

taglist: @gay-otlc @purplesoup-lad-le @when-wax-wings-melt @asexual-juliet @cowboypossume @xanadaus 

fic under the cut :)

Out of all the things that can surprise Dex Dizznee at 12:21am, getting hailed by Keefe Sencen isn’t one of them. 

The buzzing of his imparter laying on his bed cuts through the quiet ambiance of the noisemakers carefully placed in his room. The gadget Dex has mindlessly fidgeted with for minutes on end gets set down on his desk, and he carefully steps through the mess on his floor to pick up the hail. 

(After turning the volume down, because Keefe has accidentally woken up Dex’s parents from laughing too loud on more than one night like this.)

“Heeeey, Dexy,” Keefe deliriously croons across the line. 

Deliriously is the correct description, Dex knows, because Keefe only ever uses that tone when his guard is down—and after Loamnore, lowered guards only ever occur after a mental breakdown or from serious sleep deprivation. 

Or both.

“Hello to you too, at this totally reasonable hour for the two of us to be awake,” Dex sits down on the edge of his bed, tucking his feet up onto the mattress. 

A snicker. “Tooooootally.” 

Dex does a brief internal analysis of his face—he doesn’t have enough time to be thorough without being awkward, but no mental notes at all is bound to leave him floundering later on in the conversation. 

Dark circles → Keefe is probably at least halfway out of his mind.

Bedhead → Keefe is definitely at least halfway out of his mind.

Lots of blankets and pillows → Keefe is either content or in the middle of an existential crisis. 

Slightly more prominent freckles across the bridge of his nose than usual →  Congratulate Keefe on getting some sunshine. 

Keefe starts talking again, and Dex is glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to resume conversation. “What’d I interrupt?” 

“Me trying to get work done for the Black Swan or school but being too tired to think properly.” 

“I’m guessing you’re also too awake to go to sleep.” 

“Bingo,” Dull exasperation on Dex’s end. 

“Relatable.” Fatigue softens the ‘t’ so much that it’s only implied at best. Relatable is surrender wearing a humorous mask; Keefe’s favorite shield.

You need to say something. It’s the start to an all-too familiar chain reaction. He almost lists out all the ways You need to say something evolves into something much more panic-inducing, since lists usually help, but this is one of those few exceptions where listing it all out will screw him over. 

So Dex starts on the steps to prevent that, with an inhale quiet enough that Keefe hopefully doesn’t think he’s sighing. Next is grasping for something to contribute. Something silly, preferably. 

Dex is a second slower to reply than he’d like, but he finds something that works. His headspace relaxes once he asks, “Is the bingo card or the bingo pieces or the bingo itself relatable?” 

“Hmmmmm, good question…” Keefe tilts his gaze up to the ceiling of his starry bedroom at Splendor Plains. 

Dex takes his thoughtful pause as an opportunity to study Keefe further. He notes gulon pajamas, and eyelashes that are long and dark and confusingly nice to look at—which makes him think of the eckodon ride to Alluveterre, the first time he’d really noticed them—which makes heat begin to fester under his skin, because that was a lot of physical contact and—

—Keefe starts talking again, and it’s enough to get his brain to shut up. “Bingo pieces, probably. Sometimes I get put in situations where things work out, and sometimes I get put in situations where they don’t. Comes down to everyone else’s luck.” 

The Keefe is either content or in the middle of an existential crisis part of Dex’s mental notes from earlier resurfaces at the front of his mind, and he leans a little more towards preparing for helping Keefe through an existential crisis. 

Then Dex leans a few degrees back into the or part of the note, once Keefe cracks, “Kinda like all the backstories we came up with for Keebler elves.” 

Laughter, fast and loose and loud, threatens to explode out of Dex’s chest. He quickly covers his mouth, unable to help looking away and throwing his head back while he tries to not disturb the sleepy nighttime air that blankets Rimeshire. 

When Dex looks back down at Keefe, there’s a proud grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, smushed up against the cozy mess of his bedding. Keefe wrestles a hand out from under the blankets it was trapped under, and points directly at his imparter camera. “You thought it was funny, don’t deny it,” 

“I won’t,” Dex relents. A wistful sigh almost turns into snickers, since he’s apparently spent way too many nights talking with Keefe over the past few months. “That was probably the funnest reason for pulling an all-nighter.” 

A giggle. More than one giggle, actually. A whole stream of them, like a human song kids would get hooked on. (Giggles. Keefe is undoubtedly delirious, guaranteed to be more than halfway out of his mind. There’s no other explanation for him being so light and sunny at 12:26 in the morning.) “Best all-nighter eeee-ver! No school, just the silly.” 

Dex arcs an eyebrow like the sunrise that’s hours away. “The silly?” 

“The silly!” Beaming a childish grin, Keefe’s fist punches out of his heap of blankets and up into the air, almost as if he’s cheering for something. 

The force of it sends Keefe’s imparter—wherever it’s propped up on—toppling over. The view on Dex’s imparter shifts to close-up constellations behind glass. He hasn’t done well enough in his Universe class to be able to identify anything before Keefe cries, “Dex! Mrs. Stinkbottom! My dearest companions! Noooooooo!” 

This time, Dex has to gently bite down on his knuckles to keep himself from laughing too loud. 

(Dex has to stop himself from wondering too much about the depth behind My dearest companions too. Because he’s gone down far too many rabbit holes about whether or not he’s romantically attracted to Keefe and been left with a confusing answer of no, but also not being satisfied with the label platonic either. He just focuses on the joy of someone finding him valuable outside of his tech and alchemy skillsets.) 

There’s a smile on Dex’s face so wide it makes him feel dumb as he watches Keefe lean over his bed to try and grab at his imparter. Awkwardly angled footage goes a little fuzzy as Mrs. Stinkbottom gets pulled up before Dex. Well, not Dex, the imparter, since Dex is leaned back against his pillow and headboard and not collapsed on Keefe’s bedroom floor, but no one cares about technicalities like that other than Dex. 

Finally, Keefe’s hand presumably wraps around his imparter, and Dex’s screen is a blur as Keefe hauls ‘him’ up. “I got a little too silly for the world to handle,” he pouts. 

“The world? I don’t think me and Mrs. Stinkbottom count as the world. Pretty sure there’s a lot more to the world than that.” 

“Well, that’s the only part of the world I care about right now.” 

Don’t read into it, don’t read into it, don’t read into it— 

Dex doesn’t read into it. Because he’s a master at this seemingly mythical thing called self-restraint, if his friends are anything to go by. “I dunno, I’m pretty sure you care about your blankets and pillows right now,” 

Keefe’s lips thin into a disconcerted line. “...Yeah, I do. Caught me red-handed,” he mumbles, relaxing further into the comfortable disaster he’s wrapped himself in. “But that’s it.” 

You sure about that? he wants to ask, but takes the few seconds of silence to consider his options and turn the conversation towards something else instead. “How much have you slept?” 

Things That Would Replicate Keefe’s Hysterical Laughter at That Question When Mixed Together Properly:

Tea kettles when their contents are boiling. 

Monkeys screeching. 

Gasps from someone who almost drowned. Or ran a long distance at a high speed and finally got to stop. Or something like that. 

A recording of someone’s sobbing or laughing that could pass as both to unaware listeners.

It’s a little startling—startling enough that he jumps at the unexpected change in sound. Frantically, he turns down his imparter volume. And then Dex tries to climb under his covers as quietly as he can and curls up on his side, so he can fake being asleep if his mom pops in to check on him. (She’s a light sleeper, which she’s jokingly coined as her proof that she married into the Dizznee family instead of being born into it.) 

Keefe wipes at his eyes. “You gotta specify a time frame, Dex. Tonight? The last twenty four hours? The last week? Etcetera,” 

It takes a blip of time to remember what they’re talking about. “Last twenty four hours.” 

“I took a nap after lunch. Ro woke me up for dinner. After that, I painted until I spilled my water jar on accident. Cleaning up made me realize how tired I was, so I tried to sleep. Buuuuut…” Something about the way Keefe’s facial expression just barely shifts makes Dex suspect that he’s either gonna cough up a hard truth or lie to cover it up. “my brain wouldn’t shut off. And now we’re here.” 

Dex takes a shot in the dark—literally. The only thing lighting up his room is his open curtains. Moonlight washes the room in pale silvers and a whole scale of blues. “Was it that you couldn’t stop thinking period, or you couldn’t stop thinking about the wrong things?” 

The steady, easy rise and fall of Keefe’s form stills. It resumes when Keefe sighs and says, “Does anything get past you?” 

I’ve spent my whole life analyzing everything to the best of my ability, because I’ve spent my whole life out of the loop and fighting to get in it. It’s late at night, and your guard’s down. Of course nothing you do gets past me. Too serious, too blunt. Killjoy of a response. Dex condenses it into something lighter, but still truthful. “When it comes to you, no, not that I know of.” 

“I feel like that’s a sign that I’ve overshared on one too many nightly hails over the past few months,” Keefe tries to laugh it off, but Dex can sense the nervous undertone. 

“I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop you next time you try to open up,” Dex offers. He hopes Keefe doesn’t take him up on it. 

Dread begins to stir in his stomach as Keefe pauses to consider. It dissipates when Keefe says, “Nahhh, I trust you to not take advantage of me being stupid. Also, like—actually, you know what? Can I ramble about something? The only way my brain can make points is through stories right now. But if you want me to shut up, that’s fine.” 

“Ramble away,” Dex says. It’s nice being your number one person to talk to, even if I’m sure it won’t last forever. 

“Okay, so, earlier today—well, technically yesterday now, but no one cares—anyways. Anyways.” Keefe clears his throat, fist in front of his mouth. Eyebrows downturn in a way that’s either ironically or unironically serious; Dex can’t tell. 

Dex poorly suppresses a smile. Turns up the volume again to hear him better, and resolves to just remind Keefe, No sudden noises please, if he gets too loud again. 

“So basically, after Ro woke me up, Elwin knocked on my doorway today and told me dinner was ready if I was hungry. It was in the usual spot he leaves it for me since being in the same room as people is hard and he’s cool about me eating alone, y’know? I feel like I told you about that already, but whatever.” (Keefe has indeed told Dex about this routine. On multiple occasions.) “I hear his footsteps walking away, and I open the door and I say ‘Elwin?’”

“Out loud, or using signs?”

“Out loud,” Keefe confirms.

It’s been a month or two since Keefe managed to start saying short phrases to people aloud again, but it’s still difficult enough—especially without preparation beforehand—that it’s always a surprise to hear him mention talking out loud face-to-face recently. Dex’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline. He holds back the Wow, Keefe, incredible job—genuinely, ready to jump off the cliff’s edge of his tongue. Lets Keefe keep talking. 

“So he turns around and he tilts his head in this way that’s like, hey, keep going. My nerves started acting up, but I managed to ask if we could eat at the table together. I had to clear my throat and clarify—well, I was really just rambling, but whatever—that sitting, like, right next to him would be too much. And I’d probably have to sit on the opposite end of the table, but he told me that was totally fine. No disappointment or anything. And we—we actually had a conversation. Not just a few sentences. I could keep up with talking back and forth for longer than a few minutes. And there was this point where he said…” Keefe stops. “He said, um. Hang on.” 

Keefe flops his face into his pillow. Dex suppresses an instinctual smile at the unintelligible noises that come out of Keefe’s throat, because he doesn’t know if they’re positive or negative. Yet. 

So he asks. “Is this good or bad?” 

Keefe nods. Confusion forms in a crease between Dex’s eyebrows. Some absurd part of Dex suspects Keefe can sense it through the screen, because he turns his face towards his imparter and clarifies, “Good. I think. I’ve just forgotten how to handle affection in general. And I’ve never known how to handle it from parental figures.” 

Parental figures has delighted surprise lighting up Dex’s face for a split second before he smooths his expression out into something neutral again. Elwin’s always been a lot better than Cassius. Keefe maybe, just maybe, finding someone else to call ‘dad’ or something like it would be good for him. 

Dex hopes they get there. Eventually. 

Dex also doesn’t know if it’s too early to tell Keefe that, so he errs on the side of caution. “From what I’ve heard you tell me, I don’t think Elwin minds that you don’t really know what you’re doing. But what did Elwin say to you? You cut yourself off.”

Keefe blinks, a bit slow to respond. “Sorry, I was processing that first sentence. Uh. He said that he was really proud of me. For,” —Keefe’s laugh in between words is bittersweet— “being so brave about all of this. And I thought he was playing up how he felt to make me feel better, so I told him that he didn’t have to lie to me. Then he told me that he was being dead serious, and he was sorry he didn’t say it more often. And he tried complimenting me more, but, um, I—I told him to stop because I didn’t want to start crying, y’know? Especially since I couldn’t—can’t hug him. Or anything like that,” 

Dex doesn’t really know how this relates to whatever point(s?) Keefe was trying to make earlier about trusting Dex, but he’ll roll with the punches. “I’m not a professional on emotions or anything, but I think it’s okay to get overwhelmed by someone being nice to you when you’re used to literally nothing at best.” 

“That’s…” Keefe goes quiet. Dex wonders if he said the right or wrong thing. Hopefully it was right. It feels right, at least. “That’s good to hear. Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Dex says, and gives him a tired smile. Not because he’s tired of Keefe, but because it’s who knows what hour in the morning now and Dex has been on a losing streak with his sleep schedule for roughly a week now. 

Keefe sighs. “I wish I could hug you,” he whines. “You’re always so nice about putting up with my bullshit, and you’re cute when you’re tired, and I call you all the time but I still miss you because it’s not the same as when I could wrap my arm around you and say I’ve got you, Dexy, without physical consequences.” 

There are many, many things that Dex could think in response to that. There are many, many things that Dex does think in response to that. But the first thing that comes to mind is if this conversation had been a string of imparter texts, Keefe would have written something along the lines of “:(((“ at least once just now. 

Keefe bulldozes on. “Like, you’re so…patient,” 

And then Dex cuts him off with a snort. “You are the first person I have ever heard call me patient. Ever.” 

“I—okay, fine. You’re not patient with gadgets or alchemy or anything that’s a project,” Keefe laughs, and then his voice goes…gentle. Like midnight rain. “But you’re patient with people. You’re patient with me.”

You’re patient with me, Keefe says, and Dex thinks, What an interesting way to say ‘I love you’. 

It’s an observation. Not a revelation, because Dex has known for months now that his dynamic with Keefe is defined by oddities. They are misfits on the outskirts of everything they know. They are two boys that don’t fit neatly into any boxes—one with a genetically modified ability that’s drastically altered his life in ways no one knows how to fix, and the other the son of a bad match that’s become a regent at 15 and a Black Swan technopath even younger. They are more than that, too, and they see all of that more in each other. They see all the mundane more and the wild more and all the more in between that doesn’t fit into any box society likes. They’ve been seeing more of all the more in one another over these past few months, and scrapping their discoveries together like spare parts into something that’s probably confusing and worthless to the rest of the world, but it works for them.

Progressing without refining, coloring outside the lines—it’s not what mechanics or artists are supposed to do, but for this piece, for their style, for their invention, it works for them.

This weird version of love that they have, that seems to permanently float either between or outside platonic and romantic binaries (Dex is too sleepy to tell): it works for them.

It works for them.

“You make being patient worth it, Keefe. You always do, in the long run.”

Half-lidded eyes shoot wide, and Dex can’t tell if the glaze over icy irises is due to tears or lighting until Keefe’s turning away and whining, “Dex, what the fuck did I say about not wanting to cry?” 

Dex is glad that his words touched Keefe, since his hands can’t. Appreciation presents itself through amused exhales at the smile on Keefe’s face that won’t go away. “I thought you liked honesty, though?” he teases. 

Keefe rolls back over in his twist of bedding to glare at his imparter, but it looks more like a pout. “Yeah, but I also like not having a crisis over whether or not—I’m pretending I live in an ideal world that doesn’t hate me, by the way—I want to draw you a bajillion times or paint you a bajillion times or tickle fight you until you’re in hysterics because I like the way your laugh sounds or hug you for an eon normally or hug you for an eon the way we did on the eckodon or if I want to kiss you. And I know that last part’s probably overreacting, but also, I can’t tell if it’s wanting to, like, kiss you on the cheek? Or more than that? Or less? Which makes things harder and way more confusing,” 

Dex’s eyebrows aren’t practically touching his hairline, they are touching his hairline. (In spirit. Because eyebrow muscles don’t work like that in the real world. He thinks.) Dex adds You want a REPEAT of the eckodon ride? onto his mental list of conversation topics, then asks the slightly more pressing question he got from Keefe’s rambling: “You want to kiss me?” 

Because Keefe Sencen? Renowned heartthrob that had half the girls at Foxfire wrapped around his finger without even trying that hard? Wanting to kiss him? Him? Dex Dizznee? The sheer notion was fucking absurd. Bonkers. Ridiculous.

“I mean—like—listen—okay, just, just let me explain before your brain runs wild, I know how you are,” Keefe splutters.

Dex suppresses a grin at Keefe being the flustered one for once. “Oh, I’m definitely listening.” 

“Okay, so, first off, kissing was a brief idea that popped into my head when I thought, How do I show Dex how much I care about him? Kind of like an afterthought. And the original afterthought was, like, impulsively kissing your cheek. In a goofy way. Not full-on making out with you or anything.” Keefe pauses, and two things shift in the meantime: Keefe’s facial expression tipping off of panic into thoughtfulness, and Dex’s facial color gradually sliding from its pale base color to a blush that only gets more vivid as Keefe talks. “Though I probably wouldn’t complain if we made out, but it’s not something I’m yearning for every second of every day or anything. The possibility only just hit me, after all. I want it if you want it, I mean. But if you don’t, I’m all good. We’re all good.” 

Dex blinks. Throws all caution to the wind, and thinks about it. Thinks about whether or not he’d like that kind of kissing from Keefe. Keefe would most likely start slow, because that feels like a Keefe thing to do, so Dex imagines that. Imagines how he might feel if they were whispering to directly into each other’s ears instead of each other’s imparters, if Keefe pulled him in for a kiss instead of keeping his distance without compromising himself—

—and almost immediately thinks No thanks. Which is a little odd, since he likes the way Keefe looks and acts, but his stomach hollows out at the idea of another mouth moving over his, no matter how kind the intention. Mashing two mouths together is an overrated display of affection hyped up too much by mom’s romcoms and other romance enthusiasts is the explanation for it that pops up into Dex’s head. The lack of spark or pull that Dex feels towards kissing in general plus the weirdness of textures and germs interacting through mouth to mouth contact probably factors into his opinion too.

Overriding that kind of mind and body instinct feels wrong, so Dex offers up more honesty to Keefe. “I think I’ll pass on the kissing. Making-out kissing, at least. Kissing anyone makes me feel weird—a bad kind of weird, if you get what I mean.” 

“Sir yes sir!” Keefe barks out, giving him a cheesy salute, and Dex giggles. “Thank you for making it easier to make my brain shut up about kissing you. The identity crisis prevention is appreciated.” 

“Of course, of course,” Dex jests. “But for the record, I don’t think you potentially wanting to kiss boys in general is a bad thing. As long as they’re good for you, y’know?” 

Quiet overlays Keefe’s demeanor, and Dex can practically hear the gears in his brain turning. Processing. Then Keefe gives a small smile and says, “Thanks, Dex. I’ll keep it in mind. Buuuuuut,” Keefe claps his hands suddenly, and Dex nearly jumps out of his skin. “I’m not in the mood for heavy introspection right now! Soooo…maybe you could tell me about the things I said that you’d be okay and not okay with instead? For the sake of, like, boundaries and stuff.” 

“Ah, yes. Discussing boundaries when we’re both sleep deprived and not thinking straight. Incredibly intelligent move.” 

Dex apparently didn’t put enough lightheartedness into his deadpan, because Keefe scrambles to backtrack. “I mean, yeah, you have a point, we can do that sometime later in daylight, or later, or never. Whatever you feel like. No worries.” 

“I was joking. We can and probably should talk about it now, even if we’re not 100% functioning,” Dex reassures. 

“Okay. Um. Where do you want to start?” 

Dex references his mental conversation prep list, and plucks out a relevant item he hasn’t used yet. (He will use the sunshine comment before the end of this hail, or so help him.) “Can we talk about the whole ‘basically wanting a repeat of the eckodon ride’ thing? Because in the moment you seemed pretty eager to end that, and I’m simultaneously confused and curious at your…change of heart, so to speak.” 

A hypothesis Dex will never be able to test the accuracy of: If Keefe weren’t under the weak starlight of his bedroom walls and somewhere brighter in this moment, Dex would be able to see a flush crawling over Keefe’s ears. Perhaps even over his cheeks, too. The musing is based on evidence—the hand running through Keefe’s bedhead, the loaded exhale, the averted gaze, the upper teeth worrying his lower lip. 

Anxiously, Keefe chants strings of swears under his breath before composing himself a little. “First things first, just to know how much of my dignity I’m losing here at whatever time of night it is right now, can you tell me how often you think about the eckodon ride? And what you think of it, if you do think of it at all?” 

Oh god. Dex had not prepped for actually talking about that. At all. 

So much for not floundering later on in the conversation, he curses his past self. 

“Do you want me to start right now and then just pause and backtrack when I word things wrong, or do you want me to try and get things sorted out before I talk?” Clarification and a counterattack, a delay of the inevitable. 

“Take your time,” Keefe murmurs. 

Dex does. While Keefe breathes in a purposeful pattern he messes up every now and then, Dex rearranges the scramble of thoughts in his head until every piece is in the right place. And then he double checks to make sure it’s right. And when he thinks Maybe I should triple check, he forces the words out into a freefall and hopes that when they collide into the connection between him and Keefe, it won’t hurt. “Before I get into emotional vulnerability, I would like to say that I still stand by my opinion that your breath stunk. You need to invest in having carry-on breath mints at all times, dude.” 

Keefe bursts out laughing, and it’s everything from playful ocean waves curling and splashing at his lower legs on a shoreline walk to distant melodies whispered in the wind. “I’ll do that, next time I go out,” Keefe promises, and for now, only Dex will ever know how big it is to hear Keefe make plans for a more social future he said he’d given up on at the beginning of these nighttime hails. “But only if you do too. Because I swear, your breath rivaled gulon farts, my guy.” 

But only if you do too. My guy. It softens Dex like the glow of the stars outside his window. His smile is a crescent in the dark. “Fine, fine, I will. Maybe I’ll make my own and hail you so you can watch alchemy antics.” 

“Please do. But finish talking first.” 

Dex takes a deep breath. “Okay. Uh. Where was I?” 

“Emotional vulnerability, I think?” 

Exhale, trace back to which thought he left off on, and go. Hurtle out of comfort and into the brilliantly terrifying unknown. Speak before the end of the fall. “Right, emotional vulnerability time. I don’t think of the eckodon ride every second of every day or anything. But it pops up from time to time. More often when I’m talking to you, of course, but it’s not like I can hear whale songs or see Z-shaped objects without at least briefly thinking about it. As for what I think of the eckodon ride, I think…” Dex falters. Stumbles. His carefully constructed thoughts flutter just out of reach. 

What was I thinking earlier? What have I thought about it before? “I think it was nice. Confusingly nice, but nice. I felt—it felt—it was different. A lot more physical contact than I was used to. And I guess I liked looking at you close up more than I was willing to admit before. Noticing little details was interesting—like how long your eyelashes are, since I didn’t really have anywhere to look but your eyes and I usually try to look close to people’s eyes but not quite since I get distracted by their eyes when they talk if I make eye contact, but we weren’t talking, and I just got to look, and—ugh, I’m rambling. That sounds weird. My words aren’t, I dunno what the word is—wording? Right? That’s wrong, but whatever. My words aren’t wording. You get what I mean.” 

Dex drags his hands down his face, and grimaces at the light layer of sweat that’s built up there in such a small amount of time. Has the freefall ended yet? Will his stomach please stop hollowing out? 

The freefall crashes to an end, and Dex slips out of the wind into into safe waters when Keefe asks, “So you didn’t mind how close we were the whole time?” 

With only the moon as a witness, the timidness in Keefe’s voice is clear. With only the moon as a witness, all the air empties out of Dex’s lungs when he says “I didn’t really mind, but I thought you did,” into what feels like six feet underneath the sky. 

Thuds pulse loudly in his veins and ears in the real silence. Every gentle slide of fabric moving with the crests and troughs of Dex’s breathing feels like the edge of too much, but Dex doesn’t know which side of the edge it falls onto. Staring at his imparter is too much now, too, so he turns his face into his pillow and swipes his thumb back and forth across his sheets as a nearly futile distraction from his frazzled senses. 

Keefe reels him out of it, out of the increasingly weird stimulation levels and the imaginary water. “I didn’t really mind either, and I didn’t know what to do with that, so I shoved you away and jumped to something that I understood. And then I tried not to think about it. Which worked for a while, but then Loamnore happened, and now it’s really hard to not think about how much I miss being close to people, which makes it extra hard to not think about the eckodon ride when I’m around you, and now we’re here.”

A hum vibrates in Dex’s throat; it resonates with all the gadgets scattered around his room on sleep mode. “So originally, you didn’t want to fully process the eckodon ride, but now that you have, you miss that kind of proximity?” 

“Yes,” Keefe breathes out a syllable and longing. 

“That makes sense,” Dex nods to himself. 

Contemplation lulls talking from either end of the line to sleep for a little while, but not Dex. Yet. At some point, Dex’s imparter slipped so that he couldn’t see Keefe and Keefe couldn’t see him. Not focusing on the changes in his expressions and environment, when it’s so late and quiet and Dex woke up at 2am yesterday and hasn’t slept since, makes it a little difficult to stay awake. 

“So if I end up being able to handle touching people at some point in the future,” Keefe starts, and Dex starts at the sudden verbalism and the hope in his voice that they both thought he’d lost, “kissing you is a no, but hugs are a yes?” 

“Hugs are a yes,” Dex agrees. 

“What about, um—” Keefe stops short. 

Laziness compels Dex to flick his imparter upright with telekinesis instead of just reaching over and grabbing it. He raises an eyebrow at Keefe. “What about what?” 

Dex is the furthest thing the elvin world knows to an empath, and yet. And yet. He can feel Keefe’s embarrassment through the countless miles separating Rimeshire and Splendor Plains. Keefe’s almost completely buried beneath blankets, pressed deep enough into his pillow that only some messy blond tufts are visible. 

“This is so stupid,” Keefe grumbles into fabric. 

“I think this is rather funny, actually. Hilarious, even,” Keefe can’t see Dex’s shit-eating grin. “Share with the class, Keefe. How were you gonna finish that sentence? Be honest,” 

(Dex turns down his imparter volume to the lowest setting. Just in case a certain froster is wandering around the halls with those silent mom feet of hers and walks in at the worst time possible.) 

Dex thinks he hears Keefe mumble holding hands, but that seems far too innocent to be correct, so he asks, “What?” 

Keefe pops up out of his cocoon. He looks like he wants to shrivel up and disappear to somewhere that’s anywhere but near his imparter. “Holding hands. That’s how I was going to end the sentence.” 

Suspicion narrows Dex’s eyes. “Considering the kind of jokes you like to make, I feel like it takes more than the idea of holding hands to get you flustered,” 

“Not anymore,” 

Dex can’t tell if Keefe is whining or scraping the surface of loneliness that he’s shoved aside for tonight, and decides it’s a good idea to pull him away from that. He can lament his losses when the sun’s there to smatter more freckles along the bridge of his nose. “Getting back to the point—you wanted to know how I felt about you wanting to hold my hand?” 

Slowly, Keefe nods. 

“I don’t see why it’d be anything to get flustered about. We used to hold hands for light leaping all the time. Extending that doesn’t seem like a huge deal, in this hypothetical.” 

“How the fuck are you so chill about this but I’m not,” Keefe says, and yeah, he’s definitely whining now. 

Dex laughs. “My serious answer is because 1) I’m not touch starved and 2) we’re talking theoreticals, and my emotions kind of take a backseat during conversations like these so my critical thinking skills can take the wheel, since it feels like there’s no stakes since it’s all, as I said, theoretical. My joking answer, on the other hand, is because I’m cooler than you.” 

Keefe cracks a smile. “True, true,” 

“Anything else you wanted to talk about?” 

“Is there anything else I said earlier that you’re not cool with?” Keefe returns. 

“List it off again?” 

“Uhhhh…” What some humans would call Keefe’s ‘Adam’s apple’ bobs as he tips his head back and thinks. He raises one hand and flips up a finger for each item he rattles off. “Stuff we haven’t talked about yet: Me wanting to draw you a bajillion times, me wanting to paint you a bajillion times, me wanting to get into a tickle fight with you just because I like how your laugh sounds, and teeeechnically cuddling?” 

This is the kind of thing that Dex should probably have to mull over for a while, but answers come to him oddly easily. “All of those are fine, but I will warn you that I might kick you on instinct if you tickle me too much. Which isn’t that hard. My dad makes fun of me all the time for still being ticklish. He said that Dizznees usually have built up immunity to tickles by my age.” 

Keefe blinks. Numerous times. Exaggeratedly. “Normally I’d be losing my mind at you being cool with me using you as a pillow for no reason, but I’m way too stuck on tickle immunity being a thing you can build up.” 

Dex forgets to be quiet with his wheezing. “Dude, I have so many whack stories about things me and my family have done that have to do with tickling. Like, my dad said that when he was a level two he’d make elixirs specifically to give him vampire fangs so he could bite his siblings harder when they tried to tickle him,” 

The tea kettle monkey screeching hysterical laughter from before comes back with a vengeance, and Dex is very glad his imparter is as quiet as it can be without deafening Keefe out entirely. “I need the full story now,” he gasps out. 

“You’re in for a ride,” Dex says, settling into a more comfortable position on his bed. But then he remembers one thing he swore he’d say before this hail ended, and makes sure to look the camera head on when he comments, “Oh, by the way, before I don’t shut up for another three hours, good job getting some sunshine. The freckles look nice on you.” 

Horror rounds Keefe’s eyes comically. He frantically runs his fingers along his cheeks as if his aforementioned freckles were braille spelling out some awful message on his face. “You can see them?” 

“How else would I know they look nice on you?” 

Keefe groans and curls up like the roly poly bugs Dex loved to pick up as a kid. Keefe’s imparter falls forward, and the imparter screen thumps into fuzzy blackness. “I chase Bullhorn around the property so Elwin can have a break for a day one time, and this is how the world rewards me,” 

“As I basically told you already: I think it’s a great reward. Anyway. Wanna hear about just how petty my family gets or not?” 

“I’m 100% down, Dexy. Hit me with good old storytime.” 

Storytelling hasn’t ever really been Dex’s thing, but Keefe doesn’t seem to have high standards, which is nice. (The other explanation is that Dex is better at storytelling than he thinks, which he refuses to believe because he hates being wrong about anything ever.) He laughs more than Dex expected, and insists on getting his sketchbook at one point to draw out certain parts, and then they both giggle so hard they can’t breathe. They gesture and talk and talk and talk until Keefe says his throat and ribs hurt, and Dex agrees on that last part. 

Dex’s last thought before his breathing slows and evens out is some hazy musing of how nice it is that he can be Keefe’s person without having to feel hummingbirds or butterflies to get there. 

Both of their imparters are on when they fall asleep to soft whirrs and wake up to peaceful daylight.

#qpr keefex fic #but it's the real thing this time! #qpr keefex #keefex #keefe sencen #dex dizznee #kotlc #kotlc fic #keefex fic #keeper of the lost cities #keefex week 2023 #autistic!dex #bisexual!keefe #aroace!dex #keefe feels alterous attraction towards dex in this btw. if i didn't make it obvious enough (sorry if i didn't) #dadwin #forever in mourning of how keefe isn't gonna get adopted by elwin :( ik grady and keefe is good but. KEEFE AND ELWIN [sobs]