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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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Cold Comforts: Thaw

hello! would it be possible for you to write a fluffy sanders side fic with the creativitwins and janus just messing around in the Imagination? thank you! :) - tabaxi-power

I literally stalk your blog (in an affectionate way) your writing keeps me going and I reread your fics constantly. That said I’ve been especially enjoying the Roman angst but there can’t be rain without a little bit of sun. Could you write a fluff fic where Roman is working on a big project or idea and he encounters issues along the way but his famILY helps him through it in their own special ways and it all turns out fine? Totally not me projecting or anything… - anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues

Pairings: darkside polycule

Word Count: 4954

"It'll always be ours, right?"

"Always."

"Slow down, Remus," Janus calls as a very determined Remus hauls him through the door of the Imagination, "you're going to tear my arm off!"

"You're a liar," Remus retorts, even though he slows down slightly, "I can't do that! Everyone says I'd need to be a car or a big piece of heavy magickery to pull your arm all the way off!"

"It's 'machinery.'"

"That's what I said."

Up ahead, they can already see another tiny figure waving excitedly. If they listen closely enough, they can hear the squeals and shrieks over the rolling hills.

"Re! Re! Come on, I wanna get started!"

"Ro!"

Janus ends up letting go of Remus's arm and watching the two sprint across the field to almost tackle each other into the grass. When he gets close enough to see they've completely ruined their clothes with grass stains and dirt, still grinning from ear to ear, he has to pry them apart before they start to roll all the way down the hills.

"Alright, you two," he says, doing his best impression of the older kids that sometimes have to look after Thomas, "what are we doing today?"

"Oh, oh! We should play the prince game again!"

Roman bounces to his feet and suddenly the ground shifts around them, grass turning to smooth marble as walls rise up out of nowhere. Before they can blink, they're standing in the grand hall of a magnificent castle, complete with tapestries hanging on the walls, two impressive thrones at one end, and a truly massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Little bits of light refract through the crystals, sending bits of rainbows scattered about the floor as Roman's clothes shift into a princely costume.

"Wait, but there can't be two princes!"

"Sure there can, why not?"

"But you're the prince. I don't wanna steal your idea."

"Oh." Roman deflates for a second, tapping the end of his—thankfully—wooden sword against the floor. "What other royal positions are there?"

"He could be King," Janus suggests, only for both brothers to go eerily still and stare at him, "or not! Or not, there are, um—"

"Oh, I know!" Remus quickly changes into an outfit similar to Roman's, except the colors are different. "I'll be the Duke!"

"Perfect!" Roman raises his sword. "And now we fight!"

Janus watches as the two of them clash their wooden swords together, running up and down the length of the hall, even jumping on top of the thrones at times. There seems to be some ongoing dialogue that he can't quite make out—well, he can make out Roman yelling words that are probably supposed to sound like Shakespearian English and Remus just keeps chanting fight, fight, fight, but they're having fun, so who cares?—and Remus seems to be leaning into playing the…bad guy?

"I'll have your throne," Remus jeers as he thrusts the sword forward, "and then you'll have to clean all the toilets in the castle!"

"Never!" Roman's cry echoes dramatically off the walls. "I'll never clean your toilet!"

"Yes you will!"

"No I won't!"

"Yes you will!"

"No I won't!"

Remus rears back to strike with the sword but Roman gets there first, swatting the sword out of his hand and shoving Remus to the floor. "Hah! I win!"

Janus applauds as Remus makes his death scene as dramatic as possible until Roman's giggling too hard to hold the sword up anymore. "Well, my dear prince, what now?"

"New game," Roman declares, throwing the sword away, "that one's done now."

"What about pirates?" Remus is already reaching for the discarded sword, running his fingers over the wood. "We haven't done pirates in a while."

"Okay, where?"

"On a pirate ship. Obviously."

Roman rolls his eyes in a way that would make most teachers proud and the castle around them fades until they're standing on the deck of a pirate ship. The sail unfurls behind them in a long susurrus of canvas as Remus grins from under his broad pirate hat and eye patch. Roman pokes at his leg a few times before Janus realizes he's trying to figure out how to turn it into a peg leg.

"Why don't you just try not bending it," he suggests when Remus starts holding his sword a little too enthusiastically, "then it's like it's made of wood?"

"That's a great idea!"

"Wait, wait, I wanna try too!"

And so what was probably meant to be some epic pirate adventure—and don't get him wrong, there are still mermaids and krakens and leviathans aplenty—turns into a strange mix of helping each other learn how to be pirates without bending one of their legs and talking about the increasingly bizarre ways they lost their legs in the first place.

"And so I was just about to pry the jaws of the beast off me," Remus declares, throwing his arms up, "when the teeth were all snap! And then my leg was gone!"

"Never fear," Roman says just as loudly, brandishing his sword—sorry, cutlass, "I will avenge the ruin of your leg!"

"How?"

"I will tell you when I figure that out!"

Janus laughs from his position up by the wheel, steering the ship through the swells of the open ocean. "Captains, we've got a whale up ahead!"

"A whale?"

"I wanna see!"

A great whale breaches right next to the ship, its massive body twisting through the air for long suspended seconds, before crashing back down and sending a wave to soak all of them. The brothers shriek with delight as they wring themselves out.

"New game," Remus declares.

"Last one, okay? We gotta go eat soon."

"Aww, that's no fun!" Remus pouts up at him. "Why can't we just stay in here forever?"

"Because then the rest of us would miss you. What if we want to come visit and we can't find you?"

Remus sulks for a moment before Roman nudges him. "You wanna go monster hunting?"

In hindsight, perhaps Janus should've been suspicious about how quickly that makes Remus perk up.

"How do you play that one?"

Both brothers turn to look at him and the Imagination changes once more, rock walls rising up and covering them as the air grows colder, staler, a dark cave taking shape around them. Janus looks around at the rock walls and at the two of them a few feet away, practically vibrating with energy.

Ah.

"Run, run, little morsels," he calls, letting his shadow loom menacingly on the floor, "I'm hungry!"

"Wait, what's a 'morsel?'"

"I think it means 'food.'"

"Oh."

"Run!"

It's difficult to chase them through the caves without seeing them, their squeals echoing off the walls until he can't quite tell where they're coming from. Eventually, though, they run through a bigger passage at the same time and, well, his legs are just that little bit longer.

"Gotcha!"

"No," Roman shrieks as he's tackled—gently!—to the floor, wriggling around like some wild thing, "no! Re! Avenge me!"

"I'll save you," tiny Remus declares, summoning a pillow and hitting Janus with it, "get off my brother, you slippery snake!"

"Never!"

Soon it's an all-out pillow fight that ends when both little gremlins decide to just fall on top of him holding their pillows in front, smushing him into the floor. He throws his arms up.

"I surrender! You've defeated me!"

"We won!"

"We beat the monster!"

They collapse giggling onto the floor two, half on top of each other in some strange tangle of limbs that makes sense to them. Janus picks himself up and dusts himself off as the cave fades, going back to the rolling grassy hills.

"Hey, Re?"

"Yeah?"

Roman's voice gets very soft and quiet. "Can we…do this forever?"

"Of course, Ro." Remus turns around and gives his brother a big hug. "We'll always be together. The Imagination's ours, remember? We're Creativity. No one gets to tell us what to do in here."

"It'll always be ours."

"Always."

----

As soon as the door to the Imagination shuts, Virgil lets go of Patton and Janus and reaches out to take Logan gently but firmly by the shoulder. "You've got some explaining to do, Logan."

"Wait, I have to—"

"They're not going to let anyone back in there for a while," Patton says, crossing his arms, "so we may as well go somewhere more comfortable to wait."

Logan sends one last glance at the door before allowing himself to be led to the living room. Everyone takes their places and he swallows the unexpected lump in his throat when he realizes the brothers won't be here to join them. He finds himself staring at the TV for much longer than he'd like to admit before Patton clears his throat.

"So," he says, voice low, "what is it that you want from me?"

"The truth, for a start." Janus waves a hand. "Perhaps why you chose to keep what you knew about the Split hidden for so long."

"And maybe why you let everyone believe it was me," Patton adds.

Logan frowns. "It was a logical conclusion. You are Morality, and thus you determine what is Right and Wrong—or what Thomas believes to be Right and Wrong, and so—"

"But Creativity wasn't Split into Right and Wrong," Virgil interjects, "it was Split into Bad and Not Bad. And Patton didn't—wait, did Patton get created because Creativity Split?"

"I don't know," Logan repeats, "I don't believe so."

"Oh, well, if you don't believe so—"

Irritation flares up in him and he glares at Janus. "You were also around, need I remind you, and so I don't think I should be the only one on the metaphorical chopping block for all that happened when Thomas was younger. You never told me why you left in the first place! For all we know, you could have something to do with Patton's genesis."

"Oh, and I certainly wouldn't be one to keep such a thing hidden," Janus retorts, sarcasm dripping from each word, "it's not as though I had direct contact with Creativity for an extended period of time or that the new Side that appeared was taken into my care without informing anyone else."

"Is that not what happened? You had Remus—"

"Exactly."

The sudden ice in Janus's tone is enough to make him falter. Janus takes a step forward, words hissing through his teeth.

"I found Remus out of nowhere. He was abandoned and alone on a rock in the middle of nowhere wrapped in a thin blanket. He was cold, Logan, and he was screaming for his other half. Do you know how long it took to assure him that he wasn't going to be left again? Do you have any idea how many nights I spent—we both spent—" he gestures to Virgil who nods— "just trying to keep his nightmares at bay?"

Logan glances between them and sees no reprieve from either.

"So yes, Logan," Janus continues, "I had Remus. I had a terrified and alone little Side who grew up thinking his brother hated him. Tell me, where in there does it seem like I had the ability to craft Morality?"

"He's right, Logan," Patton says softly, "I…I don't remember anything about him, Virgil or Remus until we were all much older. You…I just remember you and Roman."

Logan swallows and stares back at Janus. "I do not know what led to Patton's…creation as a Side. I don't know why it happened and that's the truth."

"J?"

"…he's not lying."

"Thank you," Logan sighs, "now if we could all just—"

"But you haven't answered my question."

"And what question was that?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone about the Split," Janus repeats, seemingly not daunted in the slightest, "and why you were happy to let everyone think it was Patton?"

"Who was I supposed to have told? You?" A humorless laugh leaves Logan's throat. "You were gone, Janus, you'd made it very clear that you didn't want to be around me anymore and the last thing I was about to do was seek you out for something like this."

"Why, because I didn't care about Creativity? He wasn't my friend too? I wasn't worth your time?"

"Because I was scared and a child! I didn't know what was going to happen! I didn't do it on purpose!"

"But you still did it! And you never told a single person!"

"If you are going to start lecturing me about keeping secrets, then—"

"Logan," Patton interrupts suddenly, "why do you think we're mad?"

"I assume because I caused the Split and didn't tell anyone about it, although I maintain there was no one to tell and I was a child who—"

"That's not why we're mad."

Logan stops. He blinks. "You're…not?"

"Oh, we're mad," Virgil says, "but not because you caused the Split when you were a kid and then didn't tell anyone 'cause you were a kid."

"Then why are you mad?"

"We're mad," Patton says in a voice that makes Logan's skin crawl, "because you've been using the fact that you know what caused the Split to hurt Roman and Remus as an adult."

Logan's mouth falls open. His gaze darts to Janus, to Virgil, back to Patton, and he still only manages to say: "what?"

"Remus was made because he wasn't wanted. Roman wasn't made, he was left, because he wasn't Remus. And you've been using those two things against them ever since."

"I haven't—"

"Don't lie," Janus interrupts, his voice hard, "you make Remus feel unwanted as a way to control him constantly. You claim he's unworthy of consideration, that his ideas are meaningless, that he's easily dismissed once you get to examine him. You don't want his ideas, and so it's easy to lump them all in as bad ideas. And if Roman isn't Remus, then he must be Good Ideas. If he's supposed to be everything Remus isn't, then he must be obedient. He must listen. He must be easy to control."

"Remus is the Creativity Logic didn't want," Patton continues, his voice slightly softer but no less pointed, "which means he's wild, unpredictable, he does things when he wants to, not when they make sense to do. With Roman…"

"Roman's your dancing monkey," Janus spits, disgust ringing in his voice, "he makes the ideas that are approved when you want them, how you want them. He's there for 0.5% of your day and then he's gone. And if he ever steps a toe out of line, you know exactly what buttons to push to make him behave again."

"Hang on," Virgil says, "we're not exactly blameless either. We're assholes to Princey too."

"But we don't have a convenient 'aim here to hurt Roman' guide we've been using for years."

"…that's true."

"Roman doesn't know what he can be except not-Remus," Patton finishes, "and if Remus is wrong…then Roman can't be wrong. That's—that's the Logic of it, right?"

Logan doesn't say a word. He's staring at the floor.

They're right.

He didn't tell anyone about the Split when they were younger because he didn't know any better, but there came a time when he did. When he realized what had happened and how profoundly it affected both Roman and Remus, and how much the memory of him talking to Creativity still impacted them.

And what did he do?

He didn't tell anyone.

He kept it a secret. Because he knew he could use it. He could ensure that things were running efficiently and Thomas would have all the ideas he wanted and none of the ones he didn't. He could make sure that Creativity would be easy to control and not impact them negatively at all.

He knew how to make Remus go away and so he did.

He knew how to keep Roman in line and so he did.

He knew how to hurt Creativity and so he did.

It doesn't matter that he was only a child when he caused the Split. It matters that he's not a child anymore and he's still causing the Split. He never stopped to think about whether what he was doing was right, because it was working. And if it was working, then something must be correct.

Guilt presses heavily onto the back of his tongue. He feels sick.

What's worse is he knows that somewhere, wherever it was, he knew it was wrong from the start. If it wasn't, why would he have been so willing to let everyone believe it was Patton's fault? If he had truly believed he was doing nothing wrong, that he was guiltless, then he would've corrected them. Or at the very least, said something when he realized how hurt the brothers truly were.

But he didn't.

And now…

As if on cue, the Mindscape shudders.

"What…what have I done?"

----

He knew.

He knew how afraid he was of being wrong. He knew how much it hurt to be dismissed. He knew how badly he wanted, just wanted and he lied.

How dare he?

How dare he stand there like he had anything to do with forgiveness, like he had any authority to act as though he was better, as though he could stand from some wronged, innocent, right place and bestow forgiveness?

When he was the one who'd done wrong, when he was the one who just hurt and hurt and hurt and it was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong!

He'd been used. Been treated like a tool that misbehaves and breaks and is discarded. Been worked like a dog and thrown into the cold when his tricks weren't good enough. Been forced to dance exactly the right way and when he didn't…oh, when he didn't, he had open wounds all along his back for fingers to dig into.

No more.

The pain in his throat is an afterthought. Barely registers until he tries to swallow and realizes he can't swallow while he's screaming. The sound reaches his ears after miles and miles of faint ringing noises and even then he can't quite register that it's coming from him.

He screams and he screams and he screams because he's hurt and what else is he supposed to do?

He doesn't realize he's stopped either, not for a long while until he comes to realize that he's not standing up anymore. He's curled up on his side, his head pillowed in something soft. His throat is screaming still, but now only in pain. Somehow that's much louder.

"C'mon, Ro," he hears distantly, "open your eyes, Roro, please."

Remus. That's Remus.

"Roro? Roro, I know you can hear me, come on, eyes."

He opens his eyes.

Gone are the rolling hills of green grass. Gone are the remains of the tower. Gone is the bright blue sky.

In its place is nothing but scorched earth. Soot and ash fall from a grey sky, lifeless and crumbling against blackened dirt and cracked rock. His white prince costume streaks with grey, the red across his chest a gaping and infected slash. He blinks numbly as Remus's hands come into view. They're covered in ash too.

"It's gone," Remus is saying, "it's all gone. We did it. It's ours again. It's all ours."

Roman turns to look up at Remus and he swallows through his ruined throat. Remus just stares down at him as tears well in both of their eyes. A trembling hand touches another and shaking arms find their ways about shaking shoulders.

"He hurt you," Roman mumbles, voice strangled, "he hurt you."

"He hurt you too."

"I—I don't know how to not be hurt."

"I don't think I do either."

Ash continues to fall from the sky. The two curl around each other in the ruins of what was once a perfect world.

"We get to start over now," Roman mumbles, "we can—we can make it ours again."

"Don't leave me."

"Never."

"I want you, Roro, I always want you."

"Promise?"

"Always."

----

Sometime later, a lone door shimmers into the ash-filled air.

It opens slowly and the figure on the other side gasps at the destruction. His eyes land on the two Sides of Creativity, still huddled around each other in the middle of the ash.

He steps through the door but doesn't approach.

They stir as one, realizing someone else is in their domain. They stand as one, their arms slightly in front of each other, each protecting, each protected. In the ash, their costumes look the same shade of grey.

"I came to apologize," he croaks, overwhelmed at how much this place has been ruined, "I…I never meant to cause the Split. I never meant to force the two of you away into different bodies."

He adjusts his glasses.

"And…and I came to apologize for never telling you the truth. And for using what I knew to hurt you over and over again. It was petty and cruel and wrong of me to do and I—I'm sorry."

One of the brothers twitches.

"I want you both," he says, desperation leaking into his voice, "you're both—you're both wanted."

"Is it us you want," they say as one, "or just what we Create?"

"I want the singing at two in the morning even though I should be sleeping," he says as he stumbles forward, "I want the you that throws viscera at the wall because you like the way it splatters. I want the you that takes an hour to pick out what notebook you want because you're particular about what you write in. I want the you that watches horror clips until you figure out how to feed your Kraken."

He reaches the two of them and stops, hands trembling as he reaches out for them.

"I want you," he whispers as the ash falls down around them, "I don't want you because you're Creativity, I want Creativity because it's you."

For a long moment, neither brother moves. Then slowly one steps in front of the other.

"You promise," he asks, wary of getting too far away from his brother, "you won't hurt us anymore? Even if we want something you don't?"

"I promise," he says, "I promise. It's okay to want."

The one in front of him stares for another moment, before slowly, he reaches out too. "L-Logan?"

"Oh, little one," Logan breathes as Roman crashes into him, "my little one, it's okay. It's okay, now. I promise. No more. No more."

He reaches out for the other.

"Remus, come here. Please, Remus, let me hold you."

"…you want me too?"

"Yes. Yes, I want you, Remus, come here. Come here."

The last of the ash drifts down to the earth, leaving the world still and silent. A few paces away, just beyond the door, a single sprig of green emerges and reaches toward the sky.

----

Roman sits on the couch. His hands play with the hem of his sleeves. He needs to fix it.

Virgil just left. They'd sat together for a while, listening to music and keeping Roman out of his head. He'd said it was fine if he stayed longer, but Roman had sent him away.

"It's gonna be fine, Princey," he'd said—he always calls him Princey affectionately now—"you're gonna be okay. And if not, I'll kick his ass."

Janus had come by too. Helped to talk through everything and assured him that it would be okay. Even pulled him up and made him dance a little just to try moving around, see if that helped.

"You're going to be fine, my prince," he'd whispered when Roman couldn't quite bring himself to pull away, "it's going to be alright."

Even Patton had come by, not saying a word, just cuddling with him until Roman could lift his head up without being afraid.

"I've got you, sweetheart. We're all here for you, okay? Both of you."

He'd held onto Remus extra tight too.

"Just us, okay? Just us. Always."

Always.

It's been the same for a while now. Logan would ask what Roman had done to be productive that day, Roman would list them. It was simple, effective, and helped both of them realize the appearance of laziness did not always signify inaction. And it kept them both talking about what needed to get done and what they wanted to get done.

Typically, Roman was able to list at least one productive thing per day. Whether it had to do with the videos, or personal projects, or even helping someone else out with theirs. By and large, it had been easy to give at least one thing that would make Logan nod.

That isn't to say Logan's been unkind, no. He's been—he's been good. It's Roman's own fault he's still so afraid.

And to make matters worse, he knows he can talk to Logan. He could say that this isn't working for him, or that he's still scared, or that he just needs to not some days.

All things he could say.

Which brings him to now. Today had been hard. He'd struggled to make it past the grey fuzz in his head to get out of bed, only to choke down breakfast that tasted like nothing. For better or worse, he'd done everything he needed to do yesterday, or the day before, which meant he had even less motivation than normal to make his brain work.

He hadn't been able to do so much as make his bed, let alone work on the project.

He curls up tighter on the couch. Logan would be downstairs soon. Logan who wakes up and does things all day and then still has time to sit down and do this with him. Logan who would learn how unproductive he had been today and be so, so disappointed.

"Roman?"

He looks up. Logan comes down the stairs. "Hi."

"Hello. Are you hungry?"

"N-not really. Why, are you making dinner tonight? Do you want help?"

"Not at the moment, no." Roman watches as he gets himself situated, dread swirling in the pit of his stomach as he tries to remember the words from everyone else. He briefly wonders if it's too late to feign sickness. "Alright, I'm almost ready."

The moment comes when Logan sits down and pulls out a notebook.

"Now, then. What have you done today?"

Roman bites his lip and stares at the floor. He can't do it. He can't do this. He can't. He can feel his face burning and his eyes getting heavy with tears and he can't do this.

"Did you hear me?"

He takes a far-too-shaky breath and mumbles something.

"A little louder?"

"Nothing," he chokes out, "I—I didn't do anything."

The silence that follows feels like the slow rise of the executioner's blade. He bites his lip harder, trying not to sniffle. He can't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks but he can be quiet.

"Did you get out of bed?"

"What?"

"Did you get out of bed?"

"…yeah."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"N-not a lot."

"What about lunch?" He nods. "And we've yet to decide about dinner…alright, did you finish any more of those series that you said make you feel better?"

Roman nods again, shame morphing into confusion as Logan finishes writing something down. He keeps asking things like how much water did you drink, and did you get any more rest, things that…aren't productive. When he finishes, he runs the pen down the list, counting each one.

"That's twelve things," he says, tearing the page out and setting the notebook aside, "I'd say that's pretty productive."

He looks over and sees the tears streaming down Roman's face and his demeanor shifts, standing and coming to wrap his arms around Roman's shoulders.

"Hey," he says softly, "talk to me. What's the matter?"

"I don't—I don't—" he sniffles— "I don't understand."

"You took care of yourself," Logan says gently, "that's being productive too."

"You were gonna be mad…mad 'nd dis'ppointed that I didn't do anything."

"Oh, little one," Logan whispers, pulling him into a proper cuddle, "I'm always proud of you. It's okay."

"R-really?"

"Really." A kiss, pressed to his forehead as Logan tucks him under his chin. "It's alright, little one. You're okay."

"Oh, thank god, I thought we were gonna have to murder you."

Remus—and the others—appear out of nowhere and Logan grunts when Remus tackles them both onto the couch.

"I told you it was gonna be okay, Roro."

"I know."

"Come on," Patton says, "let's all get ready for movie night, okay? We'll just have pizza for dinner."

"Oh, hell yes," Virgil cheers, helping Logan coax Roman to the floor, "I've been craving pizza for ages."

Roman just blinks as the others get settled, Logan's arms still firmly around him as Janus turns out the lights.

"Can—can I go to sleep?"

"If you want to, little one, go ahead. I'll stay."

"You will?"

Logan smiles, ruffling his hair gently. "I'm right where I want to be."

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#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #fic #dragonbabbles

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monty-glasses-roxy · 1 year

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❤️ the fazcule XD

❤️ (Red heart) for a romantic ship

For those that don't know, this is the ship that mostly involves Freddy, Bonnie and Monty in a polycule together.

I think it's really funny that no matter what the relationship between Freddy and Bonnie starts off as, they both individually look at the giant goofball with zero braincells that is Montgomery Gator and fall head over heels for him. If I were to use my versions of the characters, the relationship would probably either start with Freddy and Bonnie or Freddy and Monty, but it would be really interesting to see it start with Monty and Bonnie and them both stood there with a wall covered in pages and red string like a conspiracy board trying to plot out the perfect way to ask him out. Actually that's the more fun way to do this, that's exactly what's happening.

New Fazcule plot where Roxy, Chica and Foxy manage to get the two idiots of Bonnie and Monty to admit they're in love and start going out and then the pair of them desperately asking them how to ask Freddy out too.

Roxy: Have you considered, I dunno... asking him out? Monty: NO Bonnie: ARE YOU CRAZY?! Chica: I mean... it could work... Foxy: Freddy's a simple lad! It'd work! Monty: YOU'RE ALL INSANE Bonnie: I COULD NEVER

Honestly, the three of them could third wheel literally every single person in the plex at once. Oh everyone's in DJ Music Man's club together? The three lovestruck clowns are singing, dancing and being insanely sappy in the middle of the dance floor and everyone else has migrated to the corner to give them space.

I think Bonnie would be the one with the huge gestures of affection. Like hijacking a show to sing them a love song with fireworks and lightshows and shit. Monty is the one that fluctuates a lot. Sometimes it's grand gestures, sometimes it's something little, it's just whatever he thinks will be fun and it's a curveball every single damn time. He just comes up with the wildest or most bizarre things and when he can't think of anything exciting he goes and asks Roxy and Chica because the three of them share a braincell and with their powers combined they can do anything. Meanwhile, Freddy gives them both friendship bracelets and they both implode on the spot. He really focuses on all the little things, like remembering their favourite colours and the one little thing they mentioned they wanted like four months ago. He made one big grand gesture ever and it wiped him out for like a week he was stressing so much over it but Bonnie and Monty have never recovered emotionally from it.

This ship also has a shit ton of angst potential! Bonnie's dead in canon right? The grief of his two beloved husbands, trying and struggling to support each other through the hardest of times... and then if Freddy leaves with Gregory after SB? Monty has never felt so alone, forced to once again take the place of his lover...

It's a fun ship for sure!

#the fazcule #gatorbearbun #montgomery gator #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #fnaf security breach #freddy x bonnie x monty #valentines game answer #pop rox answers #/chill

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hermannsprecursors · 1 year

Text

Hetalia x Pacfic Rim AU official stuff yay!

HERE I HAVE ACTUAL REFERENCES FOR THIS AU INSTEAD OF JUST SCREENSHOT REDRAWS. PLUS SOME EXTRA STUFF. THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG POST. SORRY. LMAO. HERE. MERRY CHRISTMAS. PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU WANT MORE BECAUSE I HAVE OTHER CHARACTERS AND LIKE. ACTUAL PLOT ESTABLISHED. THESE ARE JUST THE MAIN GUYS

PILOTS

EXTRA STUFF: -Did I not tell you? This is an Ameripan au! Yippee! -Alfred has universal drift compatibility-- meaning they have the capacity to drift at least semi-successfully with everyone. However, he's had a pretty bad track record, and most of their drift partners have had serious accidents befall them. They quit for a year after his carelessness caused Lovino to get hurt. -Kiku went through a HEFTY breakup with Casper before being thrown into a partnership with Alfred (I'm not immune to nedpan propaganda, dear viewers). He is very bitter about it. -Kiku worked tech and development for about 7 months before being partnered with Alfred. -Initially, they were incapable of drifting. Alfred forced them to be able to. -Technically this au's Mako and Raleigh if you're keeping track of canonic similarity

EXTRA STUFF: -The two ended up really disliking each other initially. They've since grown on each other. -Initially, though, a lot of that dislike was just because of a language barrier-- that being Casper refused to speak anything but Dutch or occasionally Japanese and it just confused Matt. They're better now! -These lucky bastards have THE most recent model of Jaeger known to date, and by far have the fanciest tech. -Not only are they drift compatible, they're also compatible via star sign. Matt thought that was really funny when they first got together. -Roderich regrets pairing the two every single day. Alfred and Kiku may be this au's main couple but these two are the most chaotic duo and everyone hates it.

EXTRA STUFF: -These two are just. A mess. Both are absolutely RIDICULOUSLY traumatized and no one knows how they're still able to drift or how they're drift compatible but they make it work. -Nobody knows if they're dating or if Feli is just really clingy. It's very much so the latter, they're just besties. Feli just doesn't know boundaries. -Feliciano walks with a limp considering he has pins in his knee keeping it together via brace! Let's hear it for accidents while piloting -Also all of the burns and scars Ludwig has ALSO comes from accidents while piloting. Said accident kills his brother. Like I said, traumatized. -Literally NOBODY knows how they got put back in the Jaeger program. They literally just showed back up one day and Rod was like "eh alright, let's test them for compatibility because the world is gonna end in like 2 weeks"

SHATTERDOME STAFF

EXTRA STUFF: -And they're all married! (Well, Elizaveta and Roderich are married. Antonio is just there. Gilbert was also part of the polycule but he's dead lol) -Roderich has NO idea how he ended up in charge, but he's been the director of the Shatterdome since 2018 once he started to develop symptoms of MS and couldn't pilot anymore. -Elizaveta hasn't been able to pilot with anyone but Roderich and she's PISSED at him for it because she wants to PILOT AGAIN, DAMNIT -Roderich will greenlight literally ANYTHING, considering he has 8 months of spending, it burns up in about 3 weeks as of the starting date of this AU's story, and he has NOTHING to spend it on -Yeah Roderich is officially in charge but Antonio is really the one who makes most of the important decisions which is DEFINITELY for the best

EXTRA STUFF: -Science guys! (Which is SO weird considering Arthur and Francis used to be ACTUAL pilots. Like, plane pilots) -POINT AND LAUGH AT THE DUMB BRITISH MAN WHO'S DRIFTED SOLO WITH A KAIJU 3 TIMES (they're technically clinically insane at this point and Yao and Francis have no idea how they're alive) -Arthur was removed from active pilot duty after it was revealed they were exposed to radiation during early testing, as they were one of the test pilots in the Jaeger program, courtesy of the RAF. Francis was supposed to take their place but wasn't compatible with any open pilots. -Yao is HONESTLY the only sane one here and nobody knows how considering he's surrounded by FREAKS. -Also Yao was the only of his family to do the science-- all of his siblings went into actual piloting. -Yao and Arthur are technically the Hermann and Newt of this AU. Again, only if you're looking for like contingency with the actual plot of Pacific Rim

EXTRA STUFF: -These two aren't related in any way they literally just work here. Both are victims of Alfred's bad luck streak though! -Seriously. Alfred's trauma from previous drift experiences wrecked Ivan's psyche so bad he's incapable of drifting and had to move to munitions and Lovino was partially paralyzed after a mission gone wrong (same one that ruined his brother's leg) that Alfred couldn't be there for because they were ill. -Lovino gets to run missions for other people now so he just gets to sit and be petty over a microphone all day now. -Ivan WOULD have universal drift compatibility if he didn't undergo such psychological trauma. Plus he just really isn't well and should not be anyone's drift partner. -Lovino on the other hand only ever drifted with Alfred and her brother. In fact, Vino and Alfred were partners (both drift and romantic partners) for about a year and a half before the accident

YAY THERE'S CHARACTER STUFF! PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN ANY PLOT STUFF BECAUSE I LOVE PACIFIC RIM STILL AND I WANTED TO COMBINE IT WITH A FANDOM STILL VERY VERY VERY SPECIAL TO ME

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starburstgalexies · 8 months

Note

A short prompt:

"I've got this, you go rest" paired with the fact that everyone in the room can tell how much they love one other by the way they look at each other.

Pairing of your choice, but I'm picturing your teapot here, if that helps you pick

It's bedo borf so I used it as a limiter.

(I bastardized the prompt a bit, but they are there and at the core; I hope both prompts are evident between Albedo's autistic lines of narration.)

original prompt list here

albedo/tighnari + gorou + traveler, it was supposed to be just gorou, and then the narration elements demanded the inclusion of the other two. (or i could be a better writer and stay focused but eh.)

also beware: greater polycule mentions, my specific teapot-compliant canonverse as requested hehe.

5105 words, hence deserving an ao3 link.

Sometimes, when Klee is overcome by the glee of running around and causing a lot of simultaneously literal and figurative headaches by exploding lakes and ruins alike, she does not realize her little body is exhausted until it is too late. In such cases, Albedo carries her to the best available bed, sometimes hers, sometimes his own - just to make sure she doesn't wake up while she is transported onto a surface less straining on her anatomy.

Albedo is starting to feel a lot like Klee lately.

Perhaps he is getting too comfortable in this place, for he has once again failed to stir awake while being manhandled onto a bed he doesn't remember walking to.

At first, it was just waking up with a blanket enveloping his shoulders and the chair he fell asleep on. One day, he would jump at the sensation of being forcibly lifted up from his desk, only to meet the Traveler's pouty glare - the one where they intend to be serious but fondness comes through too strongly to mold it into anything less than endearing.

(Albedo suspects he is the only one to elicit that, for Cyno appeared very confused when he mentioned it. He suggested others try falling asleep in ill-advised conditions as well, if only for comparison, but instead of showing any interest in the experiment, Cyno elected to scold him for this admittedly questionable tendency of his.)

Just as he became accustomed to being carried around by the Traveler, he would soon discover getting him into an actual bed has turned into a habit in the small realm they conveniently call a teapot. First it was only the people he is already close to, although he took a little time to get used to Tighnari and Cyno enough to not wake up in the process. Then it was Thoma, who always has a comforting enough aura that Albedo wasn’t bothered too much. Sucrose trying to transport him on the winds - and failing miserably - wasn’t a pleasant experience, but it did make quite the anecdote.

Understandably, it is more than a little embarrassing to have become one of the things in the teapot to maintain. Albedo has tried to stop falling asleep mid-task. He really has. Yet sometimes he is just too close to a breakthrough, too fascinated by an unexpected yet not unwelcome behavior - that he barely even notices his eyelids getting too heavy before his head hits the desk.

His second hypothesis for a solution was to simply not work in the teapot anymore. Dragonspine has always been his favorite place to study and paint. But he is required in the headquarters of the Knights of the Favonius at lenient but definitive intervals, and if the Acting Grandmaster cannot find him when needed, it has unpleasant repercussions for everyone involved. This didn’t use to be an issue, he loves his laboratory - but there is no denying that he has both a personal and a practical fondness for the workstation the Traveler carefully crafted for him in the teapot.

(He is quite particular to the company, as well.)

In the end, Albedo has decided he loves the environment more than he is embarrassed.

There seems to be some sort of system: Albedo has never noticed anyone he isn’t comfortable with having been involved in this quasi-chore. Something must have clicked in the back of his consciousness when he came to this realization, for he no longer feels being carried around by anyone. He doesn’t even wake up to Chongyun and Xingqiu bickering while the latter cleverly avoids helping him anymore.

This ought to backfire if the Traveler ever invites a wrong person into their domain.

He doesn’t recognize the room. Besides the bed and a simple wardrobe, it is eerily empty. He has not realized how much he takes for granted that the Traveler’s unique, multi-regional style breathes life into each and every space in the teapot.

Well, not each and every one of them, evidently. At least not yet. It must be one of the smaller buildings the Traveler built recently to accommodate for the higher volume of regular guests, and haven’t had the time to properly decorate.

Who would bring him to one of those?

Not anyone confident enough to remove his jacket, certainly. When he rolls over, his accessorized chain stabs the small of his back, which is the final straw for him to finally get up and out. The sweat on his skin sticks way heavier than it should - no thanks to sleeping in all his layers.

He could leave the teapot and change, but he was halfway between Mondstadt and Dragonspine when he gave into the impulse, taking his invitation out to simply work in the realm. That is precisely where the teapot will spit him out. Walking back that distance is not appealing at all.

The Traveler once said he would keep spare clothes for Albedo in their wardrobe. Perhaps, if they made good on that promise…

He wants to stay and find out who moved him here, too. Besides, It’s time he asks how that system works. Is there an order? Does someone delegate the work? Perhaps the Traveler, just before they declare they will be out for a while. How ludicrous to imagine, not to mention humiliating.

He doesn’t run into anyone throughout his walk to the manor, but he does find Tighnari and Kazuha smoking in front of the porch. Tighnari is as pristine as ever - he never comes into the teapot without ensuring his work is done for the morning. Kazuha, in contrast, looks like a proper mess straight out of bed, his hair undone, his droopy eyes lingering a little too long when he blinks. From his cuts and bruises, Albedo honestly cannot tell if he’s been in a rough fight or rougher sex. What he can tell, however, is that not many other guests are in the domain right now - there are quite a few people Kazuha would risk not being presentable around.

That narrows down the suspect list significantly.

As soon as Albedo comes close enough to touch, Tighnari springs up on his heels in a smooth motion. “Good morning,” he greets, and when he takes Albedo’s face in his gloved hands, his touch is gentle in a way that never fails to remind the alchemist that he’s loved. (And he further appreciates the fact that he is accustomed to it, that it’s a cherished brushstroke in the greater canvas that is their companionship.) “Happy birthday. You stink. Have you slept well?”

Only out of Tighnari’s mouth would that not come off as offensive. Perhaps it still would, to those who don’t know him as well, but all Albedo hears is that he is paid attention to, that he is being urged to take care of himself. “In a manner of speaking. I felt the discomfort only after I awoke.”

Tighnari’s eyes narrow at that. “You fell asleep at your desk again.”

“...There is some evidence that suggests as much.”

It couldn’t have been Tighnari who moved him - the man knows his room, but a disappointed sigh further seals the fact that Tighnari had no clue until now.

“That is precisely why you keep getting those wrist pains. The muscles on your back affect your entire arm, you know.”

He does, but he still appreciates the chiding that comes free with the impromptu circles Tighnari rubs on his forearm in lieu of a massage.

“Happy birthday,” Kazuha finally chimes in. “I apologize for not greeting you earlier, but when you two look at each other like that, I feel very disinclined to interrupt.”

“If you mean to suggest this glare of his averses you, please, feel free to interrupt any time.”

Kazuha doesn’t argue, but the knowing tint to his smile makes his disagreement clear. “Before I forget, however, Traveler told me to give you something. They also want to know how you want to spend your birthday, and with whom.”

“Who are you, their secretary?” Tighnari jabs.

“I can relay the note they left, if you’d prefer…”

“That’s still secretary work.”

He tries to not let the confirmation that the Traveler isn’t around to sour his mood. That’s not the kind of question someone who doesn’t intend to show up for his birthday would ask. “What did they leave for me?”

Albedo has both witnessed and heard of Kazuha’s swiftness, but when he feels like it, the samurai can be very slow. Albedo can do nothing but watch him patting his surroundings before his arm tenses in a manner to indicate he’s grabbed something. Only then does he hoist himself up, and the process is still mellow enough that Albedo gets to take in each visual detail offered by the padisarah in his hand.

(Kazuha’s languid movement inspires Albedo to paint him with the padisarah; the flower cold, pristine, Kazuha messy, red. He promises himself to start sketching in the afternoon.)

“They also said you don’t have to preserve it,” Kazuha says, gently dropping the flower into Albedo’s palms like it’s holy.

“That is a fine specimen,” Tighnari adds. “It would make a nice tea. Or you can grind it for spices.”

“Thank you.” He is grateful for both Kazuha’s messengership and Tighnari’s suggestion. Albedo intends to utilize the flower to its full potential, albeit not before preserving its beauty in at least sketch. He’s sure there is a suitable bottle somewhere, so he can protect it for a few hours.

“We still need to know who you want to celebrate with, and when,” prods Tighnari. “If you want to celebrate at all, of course.”

“Did you have something in mind?”

“It depends on your willingness to participate.”

“I do happen to have some plans this year. I will hold a small gathering in Mondstadt with the knights, but afterward… I would like it if everyone could spend the rest of the evening here with me.”

Tighnari’s smile goes a little wider, his eyelids droop a smudge. “I’m glad to hear it. We already have a few things we can start on, and their secretary here can relay the good news to the Traveler.”

“You misunderstand,” Kazuha protests. “They only told me they will be gone until sundown. I don’t actually know where they are.”

“You would not survive a day being a secretary in the Akademiya.”

“I do not intend to be a secretary in the Akademiya.”

As much as their naturally calm voices provide an amusing spectacle for their bickering, Albedo has to bid them goodbye. He needs to schedule some alone time for himself if he is to socialize the entire night. Not to mention, change his clothes and find who moved him, because whatever excuse he may use to talk to them - thank them politely and describe where his room is - he is simply anxious to ensure his senses aren’t blinded to complete strangers.

***

The living room is empty, and he realizes he is disappointed not to find the Inazuman detective there. He struggles to come up with any other suspect that fits the criteria that’s developing. Though, he supposes, there is also a nonzero chance that the person of interest simply left since putting Albedo to bed.

At least the Traveler being away means their bedroom is unoccupied and unused.

The only storage in the room is a modest wardrobe. Albedo recognizes the clothing from other people he’s seen around the realm, but not a single one the Traveler might wear. Has he even seen them with an outfit besides their oddly pristine adventuring ensemble?

Why is he even asking? He would not forget such a thing. Even getting them various degrees of naked for the first time had prompted him to stand back and just carve the image into his head mentally, torn between sitting down to immortalize the moment or simply living in it. Perhaps he should talk to them about it, many times he has seen dresses and suits alike that got him thinking of the Traveler.

He can’t help the smile that takes over him when he recognizes a long white coat, hiding other items beneath the hanger. It is an exact replica of his daily outfit, down to detail. It is not impossible that the Traveler simply snatched a set from his wardrobe in Mondstadt, but the fact that they haven’t skipped even his armored undershirt speaks volumes of their attention. Even if he could consider wearing something different for his birthday, truth is, he owns so many copies of the same items because he has optimized his look, and feels very comfortable in it. It is suitable for events with various degrees of formality, and adaptable to the climates of both the plains and the mountain.

Now he just needs to redo his hair, and his mind shall be free of worries regarding the way he presents himself.

Regrettably, he doesn’t see a mirror around, but he doesn’t care to look for it. He’s done his hair countless times, he can make do without a mirror. The Inazuman seating the Traveler utilizes for their room is not comfortable for Albedo, but there is a long Sumeru-style table with chairs in the hallway, and that’s where he sits down to make sure his braid is intact.

There is always a dull comfort in making his hair that makes his mind work in a very optimized manner. Many times he has found the breakthrough for a particularly stubborn study, brought to life with a crack of his hair tie behind his skull. Thoughts still swirl, but they are focused, not getting in the way of one another. The odd alchemical reaction between cor lapis and cecilia he discovered last night… Whether he should expect the beautiful padisarah to react with a rock in such manner… The dye he needs to extract to paint Kazuha with that padisarah…

“Good morning! Can I help you with that?”

Despite the sheer energy with which the voice interrupts Albedo, it does not startle him. It is the kind of voice that is both friendly and demands the command of the room, and there is only one person he knows that has truly mastered that balance.

Really, how did he not think of Gorou?

“Good morning, General. Help with what, exactly?”

Gorou’s tail is already swaying behind him. It tends to do that when they talk. Albedo is in no rush to inform him that he’s noticed.

“Your hair. Unless you’re one of those types who don’t like their hair touched. Just offering, no pressure.”

No, he does not need help with his hair. He does not like most people touching him anywhere, either.

Gorou is not most people.

“If it’s no trouble,” he agrees with a smile.

Gorou’s leap is almost literal, the tail picking up the pace as soon as he is given permission. It’s a shame that Albedo can’t see his expressions anymore, but the touch of his calloused hands on his scalp is a sensation that makes up for it.

“Just continue the braid from where they came loose,” Albedo instructs. The base of his braids are intact, there shouldn’t be much confusion as to which strands to intertwine.

“And then I just tie the ends behind, right?”

“That’s correct.”

The general sets to work. He is unlikely to realize he is already humming a tune, albeit it does not bother Albedo. That’s the thing about Gorou: all things considered, Albedo doesn’t know him that well, doesn’t spend time with him all too much, yet everything he does is comforting no matter how energetic he is. Not only does Albedo not mind having him around, he wants to know him better, wants to spend more time with him.

“That’s it!” Gorou announces, and Albedo feels the decisive snap of a released hair tie. “This hairstyle suits you well. It wasn’t as difficult to make as it looked, though.”

“Thank you. And, well, it can be a little tricky to start from scratch.”

“Ah, yes, that makes sense.”

Gorou invites himself to the chair next to Albedo, which isn’t unwelcome. The intriguing part in all this is, despite the confident, wide stance he sits in, one of his ears twitch nervously, and his cheeks are dusted pink.

“I know there is going to be a gathering here later tonight, but would you mind if I gave you my gift in private?”

“Depends,” Albedo says, because of course he wouldn’t mind, but he understands why the Traveler and Kazuha and Zhongli constantly tease this man. He is so… expressive, begging to be poked and prodded. “Is it heavy? Is it big? Is it something only you can give me?”

Oh, the pink taking over Gorou’s entire face really does not go well with that shade of brown, does it? Then again, Albedo enjoys the disharmony, and hopes to provoke it repeatedly and reliably in the future.

“It’s nothing like that! And I’m sure you can ask this of others. I just thought… You like all kinds of living things. And these are technically rocks, uh, fossils - but perfectly round. And pink. And they shine like the moonlight. I’ve always thought they were pretty.” He scrambles for something in his pockets, and retrieves a small box. “Feel free to experiment on them, though, I picked up a few. You can even save one or two, if you want… Just trying to say you can use them however you wish. Happy birthday!”

Between Gorou trying to present his gift and bowing to deliver it with respect, the black leather box is practically shoved into his face. “Thank you very much,” Albedo says, carefully but not dishonestly, because there is teasing, and there is Gorou potentially imploding.

He can tell the leather on the box is of high quality, and he caresses it with a gloved hand before slowly lifting the lid.

“Ah, your description was apt. Sango Pearls, is it?”

“So… You know of them.”

“Of course. It is a rare opportunity to get my hands on a sample, however, let alone six. I can only hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all! I am glad you like it. If you need any more, they are not as difficult to find around Watatsumi Island, so just say the word and I’ll pick them up on a stroll or something.”

“Is that so?” Albedo takes a single pearl and rolls it between his fingers. “I take it you only see me worthy of any old rock you find on your walks?”

Gorou jolts up from his seat with panic. “No- Of course not! I only mean to say it is not much trouble if-”

Albedo laughs, soft and subdued with intent to keep his voice down, but he cannot possibly hold it back. “I apologize, I only meant to jest. I can tell these are high quality. From what I know of these pearls, the best specimens are found in old Enkonomiyan ruins. I don’t know much about Inazuman geography, but something tells me these were a little out of your patrol area.”

Clearing his throat, Gorou tries to regain the confident bass of his voice. To his credit, he restores some of it. “Well, uh… I had to make sure they were good enough for a birthday gift, after all! If you ask for some on any old day, you may have to settle for whatever I get on the beach, haha…”

“That’s fine. As a matter of fact, some lower quality pearls could be a good frame of reference.” Leaning on one hand, Albedo hums, pretending to be out. “Perhaps you can use some of them to decorate the bedroom you carried me into. It was awfully empty.”

Gorou freezes, his tail straightening up alongside his spine. “Did I… wake you?”

“You did not. That’s how I know it was you.”

“The others startle you?”

“No, but they are all people I am familiar enough to not be startled by. They also happen to know where my bedroom is.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Gorou scratches the back of his neck. “The Traveler told me I could keep that room, but… I just prefer sleeping outside.”

“You wouldn’t be the only one.”

Chuckling, the general shakes his head. “No, I am not. It still feels weird to not make the most of a genuine gift, you know.”

He does, as a matter of fact. “I was wondering… Is there a system?”

Gorou’s ears perk up. “A system for what?”

“Carrying me to bed. At first it was just the Traveler, but I am starting to think there is an order. Was it your turn?”

That seems to amuse Gorou, his whole body relaxing as he leans back on the table, hands loose on the edge. “Wouldn’t it be funny if it was?”

“I would be a little offended, if I have to be honest.”

“So would I, if it were me. But, nah, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Shrugging, Gorou gives him a reassuring smile. (Heizou is right in his indignant huffs, it is a handsome smile.) “You do have a reputation for overworking yourself. If you were in my troops, I would have to give you a forced vacation, you know? But I bet you’ve heard it all before.”

Albedo nods once, silent. There is no use saying he’s tried, that it’s difficult to recognize overworking when it doesn’t feel like work.

“Some of us noticed the Traveler checking up on you before bed. You could say it kind of rubbed off on us.”

“So every night, there is someone looking for me to make sure I’m in my room?” Now he really does feel like Klee.

“No, no, that would be insulting, don’t you think?”

Albedo gingerly pushes his chair back until he can get up with little obstruction. “I am a little insulted.”

Gorou raises his hands in hurry. “There is no reason to be! It goes like this, alright: if someone sees you asleep on your chair, and cares enough about your well-being, they just take it on themselves to ensure it without disturbing your rest. That’s all.”

“Oh?” Albedo takes a single step forward, and that’s enough to be all up in the other man’s personal space. ”Is that all?” Supporting his weight with both hands on the table, he effectively traps Gorou between his arms, and leans forward until he can purr into his ear. “Is this your way of saying you care for me, General?”

Poor thing probably thought it was palpable displeasure that spurred Albedo on his feet; he looks adorably confused, trying to discern if the alchemist is still angry, or earnestly flirting with him.

(As if Albedo has not been flirting with him all this time.)

“No- I mean, yes, of course I care about you, everyone cares about you, and you’re nice- to talk to- even if we don’t talk much, you are nice to look at- Okay, that did not come out right- I am saying it’s nice to have you around, so, how can I… not.”

Albedo moves his head until his teeth graze one canine ear. Gorou shivers under him, and as delicious as that is, the important part is that he is not pushing him away. Although he can be shy, Albedo has no doubt that the prestigious general of the Watatsumi resistance is more than capable of fighting himself free.

Gorou is under him, because Gorou wants to be under him.

What an exhilarating realization.

“That’s fortunate,” he says, “because I care for you as well, Gorou.”

The fact that there is an empty bedroom behind them is rather conventional, too.

***

For the first time, Albedo lets the knights throw him a birthday party. All things considered, it is still small and mild, in line with his preferences; maybe except for Kaeya being here, but even he hasn’t done anything to irritate Albedo beyond politely wishing him a happy birthday. Klee is absolutely gleeful that this is happening at all, and watching her be so happy is enough to convince him to agree to a hundred more iterations of this. Not a single person looks distressed, even Jean is relaxed in her seat, keeping up with the Outrider Amber’s energetic storytelling with a smile and a glass of dandelion wine. Mona appears to be enjoying the food quite a bit, perhaps it’s simply the fact that it’s free. Eula has drunk enough that Sucrose is an embarrassed crimson mess on her lap, no doubt being teased endlessly by Librarian Lisa. Timaeus is in the corner with his Liyuan girlfriend that he snuck in, at least not causing any trouble. Even Noelle isn’t as stressed running around, helping herself to a snack or two before rushing somewhere.

Celebrating his birthday isn’t a burden to the Knights. These people appreciate the fact that he simply exists.

He doesn’t know if he can always be this social on all his birthdays. Last year, all he wanted (and could handle) was the Traveler with him up in Dragonspine. But this is nice. He can’t promise agreeing to such gatherings every year, but he can certainly be more inclined more often.

Arms circle his waist from behind, a face nuzzling the crook of his neck, blond hair tickling his chin. It would be repulsive or alarming if his skin didn’t recognize - and welcome - the sensation.

“Look who finally showed up,” Albedo teases, relaxing into the embrace. “I was worried you didn’t receive my letter.”

“Apparently I have a secretary to relay me messages now,” says the Traveler. “It’s quite convenient.”

“I was disappointed that I missed you in the morning, you know. Did you leave too early?”

“You could say that. I went all over Teyvat, thought really hard about a perfect gift for you,” they say with a mischievous grin, “until I realized I am the perfect gift.”

They clearly intend to only jest, but Albedo genuinely agrees. “You are.”

Golden eyes briefly widen before closing down with a sigh. “Stop that.”

“Stop what, exactly?”

“Looking like that, sounding like that… Meaning that.”

“Oh? Would you rather I be dishonest?”

“You know what’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I am, in fact, clueless as to what you’re talking about. What do you want me to stop? Being in love with you?”

“Well, no, not that.”

“Then?”

He can feel the lips on his left shoulder despite the layers. “It would be a shame if I went into the trouble of getting you a good gift, only to outdo it just by being here.”

They ought to be used to outdoing anything and anyone, though Albedo resists the urge to point it out. He has come to learn that there is balance in complimenting the Traveler, that it is not always the best decision to stroke their ego too much. At least he’s not lying when he says: “You could give me the biggest, grossest steak meal you have, and I would still love it as much as I love you, for it is a token of your love for me.”

Strong arms squeeze around his waist. “That is a terrible metaphor. The steak will go bad.”

“So will the padisarah, but I shall make the most of it in its time. All matter is doomed to perish one day, after all.” Frowning, he considers an adjustment to his previous statement apt: “That is part of why I hate huge meals, though. It is impossible to optimize their utility. The purpose of food is to nourish, and brains are evolved to enjoy consumption for that reason. But if you have too much, either you will leave it to rot, or suffer, being forced to finish it up.”

“Or just get a Paimon. No meal shall ever be huge enough.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I am content on my own.” Sometimes even Timaeus and Sucrose are too much, regardless of how deeply he cherishes them. He cannot imagine the stress of someone always looking over his shoulder, much less depending on him.

“Are you implying that I should leave?”

Albedo only grants that cheap prodding a half-hearted side-glare.

It gets them to relent anyway. “Sorry,” they offer with laughter in their ever euphonic voice, and it doesn’t even matter that they don’t sound too sorry. “I did find you a gift, though. It is awaiting you in your chambers.”

“Do I get a hint as to what it is?”

“Hmm, let me think… It’s long, it’s not terribly thick, but you do need to use both hands to hold it.”

Albedo’s heart flutters. “You… actually got me a flute?”

“I didn’t think you would get it in one.” A regretful sigh passing the Traveler’s lips encourages Albedo to turn his head until he can kiss their temple. “That’s the only thing I ever heard you say you wanted.”

“I only said it would be nice to try in passing!” This time, a startled giggle escapes him, and he feels a few pairs of eyes turning. He doesn’t have the heart to get embarrassed. He feels too light for such disruptive emotions. He leans his head on the Traveler’s shoulder, returning their fond gaze with his own. “Thank you. I love it.” I love you, he doesn’t say.

“You didn’t even see it.”

“And I love it.”

“At least try playing it first. It may turn out to be faulty.”

“I love it faulty.”

With a groan, Traveler tries to pull away from Albedo, and wisely thinks better of it when he resists. He has to let them go and say hi to people soon enough, so that they can excuse themselves and get to the party in the teapot he is oddly eager for in a timely manner.

He can indulge himself for two more minutes.

It’s his birthday.

***

The Traveler confronts him later that night, after the grandfather clock atop the library insists twelve times that it’s no longer Albedo’s birthday.

“Did you fuck Gorou on my bed?”

Albedo intertwines their fingers on his torso. “Please, dear. That bed is way past the point of caring who does what on it.” He pauses in consideration. “Though perhaps I should have been courteous enough to change the sheets.”

“It is my bed, though. Other people may come and go-”

It was a low-hanging fruit, but Albedo is amused regardless.

“-but I need to be there. It’s fine that others use it, provided I am using it too.”

“Alright. I’ll invite you next time.”

“Please do.”

#thank you jay this has been an experience #alex has typed #alex has answered #hardboiledteacozy #genshin impact

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sugarsnappeases · 4 months

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heeeey honey I'd like to know more about the gay flapper girls if u will lol

HI BABY YES I ABSOLUTELY WILL!!

this idea came to me kinda recently so it's not the most fleshed out but i think it's sooooo fun actually....

this got super long so it's below the cut!!

okay so it's set in like 1920s america somewhere, during the prohibition when speakeasies were a big thing and rodolphus and antonin (who literally no one but me care about as a pairing but here we are) run rival speakeasies nearby to each other

and the fic starts when there's some sort of issue w the police or supplies or something so the two of them have to merge their speakeasies into one!! and everyone is all mashed together... and it's mostly centred on the flapper girls but there are some side bits eg. the rodolhov rivals to unwilling allies to lovers(??) arc

for the flapper girls my main thoughts were - rita and bella as like slightly older flapper girls, both from rodo's speakeasy, kinda seasoned experts in the field like they know what they're doing and have their shit together as much as quillkiller can ever have their shit together... i also think andy and cissy are there bc its a sorta black sisters run away from home vibe, and there'll be tedromeda (maybe bartender ted??) and either lucissa (bc i've been on a kick recently) or nobleflower bc they're my babies... also zabini is gonna be there i think maybe as a singer?? not entirely sure

but anyway then there's the newer generation of flappers which is where shit gets a bit messy so there's lily who's literally just arrived, and then mary, dorcas, pandora, marlene and emmeline and they are literally just wreaking havoc left right and centre like they've all slept w each other at least once, literally in every combination you can think of, half of them are dating but which ones changes literally each week and they are just constantly having drama, also bc they've come from the rival speakeasies so there's that little kinda enmity near the beginning that just heightens all the different relationships

and they are giving quillkiller the Biggest headaches like they're so over all of it and they're being so high and mighty about how they've got their relationship sorted and the other older ones are just like ?? bc they were all there when the two of them were getting together and it was Awful

anyway i think they maybe eventually settle down into this big polycule of the six of them?? not completely sure about all the different dynamics yet but also there's pianist reg i think, and barty and ev bartenders/nuisances and there'll be various other things going on on the side-lines

i think when i start writing this properly i might do it in like little bits and pieces of scenes rather than all ordered nicely like a 'proper' fic bc tbh there isn't actually all that much plot, they're just gay lmao

anyway sorry about going on for so long, that's all i have to say for now, thanks sm for the ask <333

#daisy tag #ask games

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fricktic · 2 years

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ur writing essays abt scc's color scheme wheres k_ks . fanny write an post about them being green . we need every member of the polycule . please

if its an essay on k_ks color scheme u want its an essay on k_ks color scheme ur gonna fucking get . hold onto ur antennas boy

well right off the bat i think its relatively safe to say that . green . cant exactly see this being all that controversial of an opinion and as far as ive checked (spent hours scrolling thru the scc tag looking at art) i havent seen anyone interpret them as a color besides green , better yet differed from the canon green at ALL . like everyone agrees yeah this is a good green . and coming from local green enthusiast i can confirm its a good green so this is completely understandable

i will say that something im EXTREMELY INTO is the shade of green on k_ks shop sprite

like look at it . it goes fucking crazy . changed the line art and bg color because with just white and black it doesnt show how truly this shade fucking rocks . i know that its just green a bit hue shifted towards purple but come the hell on this shit rules

i dont care if this is unrelated its still something that came up while looking at k_ks sprites and i want to talk about it anyways . and its still color related so eat my shorts

we all know about normal sprites vs shop sprites being very . yknow . but two things that bother me intently is that

1) her handle goes from black to purple

this one doesnt bother me crazy much bcus it can just be played off as “shop sprites are gonna be more detailed than normal sprites” and yeah fair i guess but . u get where im coming from

and 2) HIS BELT COLOR SWITCHES

this makes me furious this makes my blood boil why does this happen . there is no need for this to happen why did this happen . k_k baby im not mad at u im mad at the person over at deltarune headquarters responsible for this

this is turning into me looking at details of the sprites themselves instead of what this all originated from and that was literally just “what color is k_k” soooooo what if it was purpleeeeee lets see it purple

i will admit that it doesnt look . Crazy Purple . some may argue it looks a lot more blue and while yeah i guesssss it is blue to my brain it registers as purple especially when paired with the green . compared to the purple that sweet and capn are usually associated with tho yeah it isnt the most purple of purples , and in saying this k_k isnt even typically associated with purple anyways . but do u really think i care about that NO i like how they all have a bit of purple one way or another i think it links the three together nicely . theres a lot about their designs that link them together nicely but thats a whole other post

any fucking ways

#this fit extremely sidetracked but i dont care ill use any excuse to talk about scc in greater detail than i should #this isnt an essay and more insane ramblings but thats what u all signed up for #i feel like this belongs on like a sideblog or something but nope not me we dont do sideblogs here its ride or die u #if u press that follow button ur subjected to various horrors and ailments read the fine print #**got not fit for the first tag im not typing all that out again #e.txt

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veetyuh · 10 months

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Another really strong relationship in the polycule, outside the complicated NornScotIre web, is probably EngSea. Especially from a historical perspective, good fucking god the amount that England is literally obsessed with a tiny fort is incomprehensible. Pretty much a Belarus-Russia situation, except Peter actually reciprocates.

The first and most obvious thing is power dynamics. Peter is 18, he's just reaching adulthood, he's super isolated with few social skills, facing his mortality as that 100 year expiration date ticks closer. He's ungodly old for a micronation (81!), too young for a "real" nation, and he's the UK brother everyone forgets. He's a black sheep. He's alone. And he's been fighting for his life since day one, left by his older brothers to fend for himself.

Arthur gave this kid his identical trauma. But because of what Peter is -- a fort made to protect Arthur at all costs -- he didn't develop npd or bpd like Arthur. He internalized it, and tied his self-worth to it. Arthur marooned him at sea for a decade. Well, it must be because Peter didn't fight hard enough! He should have killed more Nazis, maybe then Arthur would love him -- never mind that it was a horrible, unfortunate mistake that no action of his could have prevented.

And so Arthur's love and attention is directly tied to Peter's self-esteem. That's only reinforced by Peter's fort instincts; being made to serve and protect him, naturally, his brain is hard-wired to revolve around him. So when they do get together, it's mostly Peter fretting over him 24/7.

Their history of fighting is so fucking painful and it's 100% Arthur going full yandere mode. He thought Peter died after his sailors were withdrawn, and learning that he was not only alive, but stolen away from him and in the hands of a fucking lunatic? He had to "rescue" him at all costs. Bomb threats to scare them out, trying to steal it while Prince Roy was gone by sending a boat literally codenamed Big Brother, trying to starve them out by making Roy go through customs and ruining their supplies. One outright failed bombing attempt. Offers to buy it. Then trying to fight them in the court system and failing. A significant part of the British government was focused on the reacquisition of that fucking fort. I cannot stress the sheer amount of effort focused around a pair of concrete pants in the ocean. It's like Arthur was having a complete meltdown.

Of course, they're quite friendly now, so I interpret that as Arthur and Peter having reconciled. And with those two, they get super close at an unnaturally fast pace. Because?? They're the same.

But another thing that makes the bond so strong so quickly is that Peter is genuinely always on Arthur's side, in everything that matters. He can't help but be. So, even though Peter falls head over heels and enthusiastically consents, it's inherently dubcon; so much of his love and admiration comes from basic instinct to serve his country, and it's impossible to tell the ratio of instinct to earned love. But that also makes the relationship more stable in a fucked-up way, because Arthur knows he can trust him at a deep, base level. And to someone as unstable as Arthur, having that stability is very important.

Culturally, they're identical. Peter is English. So now, Arthur isn't an outlier as a Germanic in a family of Celts. And

Peter is taking Arthur's place as the youngest. Both have abandonment trauma, so they're co-dependent and need each other very close. Similar tastes, with playful bickering over the smallest of differences. Same sense of humor, so their quips are always well-received. Fuck, they even look alike.

And so he values the relationship so much that he gets more than a little unreasonable. Peter is practically half-German after many years of German immigration -- at one point about half of all Sealanders were German or Austrian. He has all these little habits he picked up, speaks the language, and looks up to Ludwig, the same man he was built to kill. Does that imply Peter can overcome his instincts to some extent? Does that mean he might betray Arthur? And Peter is awfully economically close to Spain, which stirs up old feelings about fighting over colonies. So Arthur gets possessive. Some of the old yandere tendencies between them come out. Except now, Peter isn't being kept from Arthur, but being kept from his friends. Anyone who might "steal" him. No, he is English property and Arthur will make damn sure he never leaves him. Isolating him by spending a ton of time with him, because Peter will always drop whatever he's doing or planning if only Arthur asks.

But it isn't all fucked-up angst. Arthur helps Peter overcome his lingering cptsd, helps him regulate his drinking, and overall improves his quality of life. Peter gets Arthur to open up and be a bit more authentic around himself and others -- albeit, by hyping him up and stroking his ego, which Arthur is prone to seeking because of the npd. Outwardly, they both seem so good, they're smiling more and work so well together, that it's hard for outsiders to see the more unhealthy dynamics that are kind of the foundation of the relationship.

With sexual dynamics the sky is the limit, simply because Peter will do whatever Arthur wants. Submissive, dominant? Service top? Power bottom? Peter is certainly more skilled in some areas than others, but he will break himself to fit into whatever mold Arthur casts for him. Whatever Arthur wishes, he will receive.

Overall the dual healthiness and unhealthiness of the relationship just fascinates me. And the sheer level of co-dependence puts them firmly in the do not separate category, along with WalesEng and NornScot.

#hetalia #hws sealand #hws england #engsea #seauk #headcanon

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elrondsscribe · 2 years

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DON’T hide in the tags about Haladriel!!!!!!!!! You’re so correct bestie and you should say it. She’s literally married????? I don’t understand why people feel the need to ship her with him like it’s empowering or something.

Lol I know, right?

And the thing is, I love ot3s and polycules! I ship plenty of of non-canon ships across my various fandoms! And I really don’t care about “arrr sacred marriage vows must never be broken!” And I’m always down for interspecies romances. (Durondisa, anyone?)

And I absolutely hate when a woman’s significance gets reduced to being some guy’s daughter/mother/wife, in fiction and irl.

It’s just — it’s all the things together, you know. It’s the fact that, with all of Charlie Vickers’s charisma, I’m just not that into Halbrand. It’s the ‘Halbrand is Sauron’ truthers everywhere. [SPOILER EDIT Looks like I gotta eat crow on that one!] It’s that Celeborn’s chief sin appears to be just existing. It’s the constant “well I guess Celeborn could be okay but only if malewife/trophy husband!”

And above all, it’s the framing of all this as a progressive thing.

Because sure, there are plenty of antis and haters and losers and chuds who hate seeing Galadriel having any degree of independence, and want a canonical husband to “tame” her and all that gross shit. I can acknowledge that. But the way that so much of the RoP fandom has responded by knee-jerk dissing Celeborn and holding up Haladriel as a better pairing to ship instead is such a drag!

Because like. If what we like is for Galadriel to have a partner who almost definitely understands that Darkness pull that she feels, Celeborn is either an Exile like her or from Doriath, both of which mean he probably gets it. If what we want is someone who’s an equal to her without upstaging her, how about someone who rules a realm alongside her and yet defers to her when she points out he’s wrong? If what we want is a long term battle partner, how about someone who she says has “fought the long defeat” with her? If what we want is someone she respects as a worthy spouse, how about someone she called “wise” and “a giver of gifts?”

And if what we want is for her to be a girlboss who don’t need no man, then why not Míriel why bother shipping her period?

The point is, if ‘progressive’ is what this is about, then Celedriel no less ‘feminist’ a ship than Haladriel is. And I wish people would be honest and stop pretending otherwise.

Look, I’m not saying Celedriel is a morally better ship, or that Haladriel is problematic; I don’t believe either of those things. I’m more objecting to the fandom environment that’s popped up around Haladriel, because it’s no fun for me.

Especially because Celeborn antis aren’t new.

All of this shit ppl are throwing at Celeborn now? It’s all a retread from when the first film trilogy came out twenty years ago, almost verbatim! The two essays that sold me on Celeborn, ‘Celeborn Unplugged’ and ‘Prince Valium/That Tall Fellow Next to Galadriel,’ were written in response to the exact same, equally prevalent ‘lol Celeborn sux’ attitude (except everyone was shipping Galadriel and Gandalf then).

Truly there ain’t nothin new under the sun.

“You’re just some silly Celeborn fangirl and Celedriel shipper” Sure, I’ll admit my bias. I just wish the RoP fandom around me would do the same. “The ship you like doesn’t make you better, sweaty” That goes for Haladriel as much as Celedriel. “Celeborn’s not gonna fuck you, ya lil incel” Neither will Halbrand 🤷🏾‍♀️

(And hey, I like the idea of Galadriel dumping Míriel or Elendil in Celeborn’s lap like “we got a human gf/bf!” and Celeborn going “nice 😎” meanwhile Míriel/Elendil is like 😮. But anyway.)

Well there ya have it. Elvella whinging for way too long about a ship she’s tired of.

#ask answered #answered asks #elvella whinging #oops elvella got salty #not putting this in either ship tag #I do love this new fandom #but this is driving me BONKERS

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lightdancer1 · 2 years

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In the Death Cycle there are only two characters who really qualify as villains from Death's POV:

Both of them are recurring, in a way, but Yeneli gets far less direct screentime overall while having a disproportionate impact.

The one that recurs most is the Azar/God on the Gilded Throne/Hunger that Stalks the Stars/Azarath/Shuzan/many other names besides. The entire Urhalzantrani civilization really could do it and there is a future arc where they offer a lotus eater machine both to the DCU and to Death of the Endless because ideologically both Azarath and Urhalzan agree that immortality without choice is the goal, the difference is that Urhalzan remakes people but allows them to keep will, Azarath is a virus that absorbs everyone and everything like the Thing. *But* the key element of the God on the Gilded Throne that makes her much more dangerous than the rest is that she is an immortal who really, really wants to die and this is exactly what Urhalzan does not allow.

Death of the Endless in turn is incapable of dying (for a very, very long time) and as such is one of the few entities essentially immune to the corruptive process. So for the Azar she's a double-barreled equivalent of catnip pursued in hope that her greatest wish could happen....and that if she goads her enough it can be done, which equally bluntly it cannot be.

The cosmology I created began as a pastiche of New Teen Titans and Raven, in particular, so she was quite literally the expy of the Azar of Azarath, and in DCU settings that bump into my cosmology she's the Azar that in Terror of Trigon pursues Trigon across worlds, or more bluntly the actual deity hearing the Priestess Azar's prayers.

So of the two, she is by far the most persistent and malevolent, with an irreconcilable pair of goals of eradicating the concept of death and dying for a very malevolent take on immortality (much like the rest of her kind, though her approach is the kind obliterated among other alternative types of magic on Urhalzan in the Unification Wars before resurging with a vengeance with her).

The other one is a Jotunn of Muspelheim, a recursive nod to my original fiction though she's essentially the shadow archetype of the Fateful Lightning, who is the arch-mage of Muspelheim with a golden theme much like her expy....but in spite of being from a place called 'land of the world destroyers' is one of the wiser and more level-headed people in the Lightdancer's polycule.

Yeneli wears clothes of dark gold, not bright gold, and is a violent exemplar of all that's the most malevolent of her kind. She's also the ur-example of the Crisis Villain and the very first in the distant deep past of the DCU, and her initial rivals are the first superpowered Kryptonians, Volthoom the first Lantern and the Manhunters and ultimately Larfleeze, as she's the being who brings the Guardians of the Universe and others into making the various Lantern Corps.

She is probably one of the most evil characters I've ever come up with, and that includes my takes on various fanfiction characters who are straight up genocidal pricks. This is in no small part due to her having the standard abuser mentality with the kind of reality-warping power that makes her gaslighting a hundred times worse and to her being a smug and vicious creature with the power to back up every bit of her sadism.

And that's her on the small scale where she drives a being from an immortal species fated to *win* the divine clash of gods to suicide and shows even the Muspelli can die, and at the cosmic scale is the kind of asshole that the later Imperiex and Anti-Monitor prove to be as their prototype and foreshadowing.

For all these reasons she's something of a chore to write and unfortunately I backed myself into a corner where the 'debut' of the cycle and the key element of the backstory require her to be a central character, making this a forbidding obstacle.

Also she tries to murder Death twice and only that Death literally cannot die is why she fails. The first time is a shocking moment and the second time is a deliberate attempt at premeditated murder that leaves a lasting scar on Death and her first ankh in the form of a black line mirroring the carbonizing effect of the blade....and the act that leads to the second attempted murder is the Cycle's version of the death of the first Despair, which was a deliberate attack out of spite on Desire of the Endless for very specific reasons.

It is also for this reason that her hairstyle and face are described on very familiar terms.

#death cycle #death of the endless #god on the gilded throne #yeneli #it's one of my deliberate things in this cycle to use the other Endless as well as Death in the tales #and the murder of Despair becomes a key plot point #because the murderer *becomes* Despair and her face is the one that replaces the original #and this becomes a motif of each iteration #a Muspelli has a bad relationship with Death and kills Despair in a stab at Desire

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the-lincyclopedia · 3 years

Photo

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime.

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is.

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute.

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault.

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always.

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other.

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad.

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity.

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap.

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form.

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story.

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

#mine #omgcp #omgcheckplease #check please #fic recs

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