#sander van soon

[katiebear1]

#sander van soon #music #edm #ori tali ma #blr #blr remix #Leon Bolier #Spotify

[coochiequeens]

Ladies please share to spread the word about two exhibits featuring women artists in two different cities

Artemisia Gentileschi, Self Portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria (ca. 1615–17). Collection of the National Gallery, London.

Renaissance art calls to mind some of the greatest names in art history—Da Vinci, Raphael, Michelangelo, and Donatello, just to name a few. Lesser known, however, are the influential women artists who shaped the era.

Referring to a period that bridged the end of the Middle Ages and early Modernism, the Renaissance was marked by a widespread effort to recover and advance the accomplishments of classical antiquity. Originating in Florence, Italy, but soon spreading throughout Europe, Renaissance art saw the advent of advanced linear perspective and an increase in realism. Many women artists—famous in their own time—were among these great visionaries.

Though for centuries, these women artists were largely overlooked in the annals of art history, contemporary scholarship has begun a long overdue reappraisal and rediscovery of their lives and works. Evidence of this resurgence of interest in the women artists of the Renaissance can be seen in the two current major museum shows in the U.S. that are dedicated to just that. “Strong Women in Renaissance Italy” at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston brings together over 100 works from the 14th through early 17th century, exploring the lives and work of Italian women artists and is on view through January 7, 2024.  At the Baltimore Museum of Art, “Making Her Mark: A History of Women Artists in Europe, 1400–1800” is a sweeping exhibition that aims to rectify critical oversight and bring awareness to historical women artists, and is also on view through January 7, 2024,.

In light of these two important exhibitions, we’ve brought together a brief introduction to five Renaissance women artists whom we think you should know.

Plautilla Nelli (1524–1588)

Plautilla Nelli, St. Catherine with Lily (ca. 1550). Collection of Le Gallerie Degli Uffizi, Florence.

Plautilla Nelli was a nun of the Dominican order at the convent of St. Catherine of Siena in Florence—and is considered by many scholars to be the first-known woman artist of Renaissance Italy. A self-taught painter, Nelli led a women’s artist workshop from the convent, and she was one of the few women mentioned in Vasari’s seminal treatise Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects. Because she developed her practice without formal training and was forbidden from studying male nudes, Nelli frequently copied works by other artists, as well as motifs from religious texts and sculpture.

Nelli’s work recently came into the limelight for her immense painting Last Supper, dating to 1568. Measuring over 21 feet long and 6 feet high, the painting remained in her convent’s refectory until the early 19th century, before being moved to another convent’s refectory and, ultimately, being placed in storage. Following an early 20th-century restoration and several more moves, it went on view to the public for the first time in over four centuries at the Santa Maria Novella Museum in 2019. Hanging alongside other masterworks by artists like Brunelleschi, it finally is getting the widespread recognition it deserves.

Catharina van Hemessen (1528–after 1565)

Catharina van Hemessen, Self-Portrait (1548). Collection of Kunstmuseum Basel.

Northern Renaissance painter Catharina van Hemessen was the daughter of prominent Mannerist painter Jan Sanders van Hemessen, and is the earliest Flemish woman painter with verified work that still exists today. Hailing from Antwerp, van Hemessen achieved success in her lifetime, including obtaining the patronage of Maria of Austria, regent of the Low Countries. She was included both in Vasari’s collection of artist biographies, as well as artist biographer Lodovico Guicciardini’s Description of the Low Countries (1567). Van Hemessen’s greatest claim to fame, however, is that she is attributed with completing the first known self-portrait of an artist at their easel—a compositional approach that has become a pillar of the art historical canon, as it has been taken up by artists ranging from Rembrandt van Rijn to Norman Rockwell.

Though she created religious images, she was most well known as a portraitist. Eight portraits and two religious compositions signed by van Hemessen have survived, dating between 1548 and 1552. Notably, there are no verifiable works dating to later than 1554, which have led scholars to believe she ceased painting following her marriage to organist Christian de Morien that year—though there are records she continued to teach three male apprentices.

Sofonisba Anguissola (ca. 1532–1625)

Sofonisba Anguissola, Self-portrait (ca. 1535–1625). Collection of Łańcut Castle Museum, Poland.

Sofonisba Anguissola was one of the most successful women artists of the Renaissance, with a reputation that rose to international acclaim in her lifetime. Born into a noble Milanese family, Anguissola was able to pursue her artistic aspirations with the support of her family, and began her formal training as a teenager; first apprenticing with Bernardino Campi for three years before working with Bernardino Gatti. Her position also allowed for her to become acquainted with Michelangelo, whom she exchanged drawings with. Her early career saw her complete numerous self-portraits as well as portraits of her sisters, including The Game of Chess (1555), which are noted for their realism and liveliness.

Sofonisba Anguissola, The Game of Chess (ca. 1555). Collection of the National Museum in Poznań, Poland.

Anguissola’s reputation as a painter quickly spread, and she was invited to join the court of King Philip II of Spain in Madrid in approximately 1559. Throughout her 14-year tenure there, she completed many official portraits of both members of the royal family and members of the court, adopting the formal and intricate style expected—though unfortunately, no work from this period survived due to a palace fire in the 18th century. Having garnered considerable royal favor, she ultimately spent the remainder of her life continuing to paint as well as teach and engage with young, up-and-coming artists. In 1624, one such young artist by the name of Anthony van Dyck visited Anguissola and recorded his visit in a series of sketches and noted that he learned more about the principles of painting from her than from anything else he had encountered.

Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614)

Lavinia Fontana, Self-portrait at the Spinet with Maid (1577). Collection of the Accademia Nazionale di San Luca, Rome.

Trained by her artist father Prospero Fontana, a teacher at the School of Bologna, Lavinia Fontana is considered the first professional woman artist insofar as she supported herself and her family solely on the income from her commissions. Unconventional for the time, her husband acted as her agent and took a primary role in childcare for their 11 children.  She began her commercial practice in her mid-twenties, creating small devotional paintings, but later began and excelled at creating portraits—and became a favorite of Bolognese noblewomen who vied for her services. Unusual for the period, she also created large-scale mythological or religious paintings that occasionally featured female nudes.

Lavinia Fontana, The Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon (1599). Collection of the National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin.

In the early years of the 17th century, she was invited to Rome at the invitation of Pope Clement VIII and was soon appointed as an official portraitist at the Vatican, counting Pope Paul V as one of her sitters. Her career success continued to thrive, as evidenced by the numerous honors she received, and the bronze portrait medallion cast in her likeness by sculptor and architect Felice Antonio Casoni. She was also one of the first women elected to the Accademia di San Luca in Rome.

Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1653)

Artemisia Gentileschi, Self-portrait as a Lute Player (ca. 1615–1618). Collection of the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford.

Unlike many of her predecessors, Artemisia Gentileschi has maintained a level of renown over the centuries, with her dramatic and dynamic oeuvre that was unprecedented in her own time. Her Baroque compositions helped usher in a new era of painting. Today, her paintings draw the attention of global audiences. Born in Rome, her father was the painter Orazio Gentileschi, who trained Artemisia starting at an early age. Inspired greatly by the work of Caravaggio and his use of high-contrast compositions, her paintings garnered and maintained attention for their naturalism and nuance, as they broke from the idealism of generations past.

Artemisia Gentileschi, Judith and Her Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes (ca. 1623–1625). Collection of the Detroit Institute of Arts.

In 1612, Gentileschi relocated to Florence, which is where she first achieved major career success, including securing patronage from the House of Medici and being the first woman to attend the Accademia delle Arti del Disegno. From her oeuvre, Gentileschi has become most well-known for her self-portraits as well as religious scenes, specifically the story of Judith Beheading Holofernes—of which there are at least six known variations she completed. Gentileschi’s tendency to portray women as the protagonists of her works—and as equals to their male counterparts—made her innovative in her time and has subsequently secured her legacy as one of the most influential artists within Western art history—of either sex.

#Women in Art #Strong Women in Renaissance Italy #Museum of Fine Arts #Boston #There until January 7 2024 #Making Her Mark: A History of Women Artists in Europe 1400 -1800 #Baltimore Museum of Art #Plautilla Nelli (1524–1588) #Catharina van Hemessen (1528–after 1565) #Catharina van Hemessen created a whole genre in self portraits #Sofonisba Anguissola (ca. 1532–1625) #Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614) #Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1653)

[bohnsky]

I can't believe the Dakar is over already. I started out being mostly interested in the bikes, so they have a special place in my heart. And I am a KTM girlie, so this year's Honda domination made me real sad. Although the results of all the other categories that I follow make up for that.

I might be the biggest Martin Macik fan and I feel like out of all the winners, he (and his team of course) deserves it the most. It's his 12th Dakar and I'm so happy everything's finally worked out for him. With 2 hours ahead of the 2nd.

Also I was really rooting for Carlos Sainz and Audi in general. Audi had a three year programm with a hybrid car and this was their last Dakar (for now) and I really wanted them to get a win. Preferably with Carlos. Audi is a great example for team work as well. I'm so happy for them. And the fact that Carlos Jr. flew in to see his dad win makes me so happy.

But I've got to admit that a little part of me was rooting for Sebastien Loeb as well. Dude's won so many championships and stages, but never the Dakar itself. He's been on the podium so many times and he was so close to Carlos for the better part of the race. But honestly after those mechanical problems, I'm just glad he's still on the podium.

And probably the biggest of them all. Christina Gutierrez ladies and gentlemen. The second woman to ever win the Dakar, after Jutta Kleinschmidt, the queen of motorsports, but in a different category. I hope Christina gets to drive in the Ultimate category soon, so she can kick some ass there alongside Laia Sanz, my queen.

And speaking of women in the Dakar, can we talk about Anja Van Loon and her team? A girls team in the trucks? How cool is that? And they're 13th overall😭

Not to forget the mission 1000. I've been a fan of the hydrogen truck since it was first presented at Dakar and I love that more and more people test their alternatively powered vehicles there.

Last but not least probably my favorite part about this year's Dakar (alongside Martin, Carlos and Christina winning). The best friendship in the bivouac: Daniel Sanders and Matthias Walkner. Matthias couldn't compete this year because of a very bad injury (get well soon, my guy) and at first Daniel just posted things about how he'll miss his camper buddy, but when he got there, he stuffed one of Matthias' racing suits and acted like he was talking to him. And he posted a video doing that every single fucking day😭😭😭😭

Really these two are so cute.

#dakar rally #dakar 2024 #dakar #ktm #honda #martin macik #audi #carlos sainz senior #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz #sebastien loeb #Christina Gutierrez #Jutta Kleinschmidt #Laia Sanz #Anja van loon #matthias walkner #daniel sanders

[ao3feed-sobbe]

in the end you're like me (make way for the gold rush)

by aletterinthenameofsanity

isakyaki: You know, it really cuts down a wedding cost to have nearly two dozen friends willing to pitch in for free

lucallemant: you know that's only because we expect you to help with each of our weddings, right?

isakyaki: Shut up, Lallemant

lucallemant:make me, valtersen

tellmewellnevergetusedtoit: @lucallemant @isakyaki you know it's not good form to flirt with another man this close to your wedding, right?

cris.sotoop: Someone remind me why the asexual one in the group is the one picking up on the innuendo?

vanderheijden.lucas: It’s one of the many things that Michael is impressive at

da_vid.gif: are we really going to have to threaten the flirting-ban again?

---

tellmewellnevergetusedtoit: finally, something we can all agree on

artvandeley: only three more weeks to keep that energy going

martino.rametta: or else the cake explodes at the wedding. any bets?

lucallemant: I WILL DESTROY YOU, @martino.rametta

(Wedding Shenaingans- both in the planning stages and during the actual event!)

Words: 1043, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 29 of if this love is pain (then darling let's love tonight)

Fandoms: SKAM (Norway), SKAM (France), Druck | SKAM (Germany), WTFock | SKAM (Belgium), SKAM (Italy), SKAM (Spain), SKAM (Netherlands), SKAM Austin, Skam (Mexico)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, M/M

Characters: Isak Valtersen, Even Bech Næsheim, Eliott Demaury, Lucas Lallemant, Matteo Florenzi, David Schreibner, Joana Bianchi Acosta, Cristina "Cris" Soto Peña, Sander Driesen, Robbe IJzermans, Niccolò Fares, Martino Rametta, Lucas van der Heijden, Claire Cho, Shay Dixon, Michaël Claes, Flora Alvarez, Elena Velasquez

Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen, Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant, Matteo Florenzi/David Schreibner, Joana Bianchi Acosta/Cristina "Cris" Soto Peña, Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans, Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta, Lucas van der Heijden/Original Male Character(s), Lucas van Der Heijden/Michaël Claes, Shay Dixon/Original Female Character(s), Shay Dixon/Claire Cho, Flora Alvarez/Elena Velasquez

Additional Tags: i forgot how much effort tagging this series was, holy shit, Weddings, Wedding Planning, Wedding Fluff, Texting, plan is for each couple to have their own chapter, & own shenanigans, so hold on, Light Angst, Like so light I swear, TO ALL THOSE WHO WANTED A 9/9 GROUPCHAT, No Beta We Die Like SkamNL & SkamAustin, too soon?

from AO3 works tagged 'Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans' https://ift.tt/0waE81h via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Robbe x Sander #Sobbe #Sander #Robbe #SKAM #WTFock #AO3 works tagged 'Sander Driesen/Robbe IJ

[stylesurrender]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT MILLY | Degrade Striped Black and White Bodycon Midi Dress.

[sambinnie]

Yesterday snow, so fears that my fading head torch wouldn’t get us all the way to the river were moot; the glow from the snow-bound fields turned the pre-dawn sky peach, and even on the bank it was bright enough without torches to have read a book. But my goodness, the water is colder than my body can remember.

And nearly Yule, and the days will lengthen again. Joys!

Quelle année, hein? Between my current obsessions of existentialism v nihilism, the bread recipe I’ve recently started using, the programmes on cults and scammers my algorithms keep feeding me, and the historical cycles that suggest we’re in for a rough ride shortly (but boy oh boy will some things be a lot better afterwards), I have some 2022 delights to share.

BOOKS

January brought two gorgeous graphic novels into my life: Alison Bechdel’s The Secret to Superhuman Strength, which was just what was needed in a Run Every Day January that ended up with me having a post-Covid relapse (fool); and Tom Humberstone’s Suzanne (full disclosure: Tom is a pal and I was sent the book to write the blurb). It made me cheer with delight at its skill and wit, celebrating the sheer guts of a woman carving her way through a man’s sport.

Children’s books were all re-reads: Rumer Godden’s The Doll’s House (terrible suspense clothed in sweet white lace), Louis Sachar’s Holes (racism and the prison-industrial complex dressed as a kid’s adventure romp); and the original Hunger Games trilogy, reread to discuss with a housemate (which mostly descends to me sobbing as we attempt to talk about certain characters). I’m almost sorry the series was so popular, because popularity always begets countless knockoffs that end up damaging the reputation of the original, but Collins’ books really are very good. Katniss is a brilliantly unreliable narrator, and the world built around oppression, division, figureheads, purges, the 1% and the violence they’ll use to keep inequality in place, is something we may all become re-familiar with soon enough.

I’ve covered most of the non-fiction here before, but a quick recap. Blurb Your Enthusiasm, funny and niche and brilliant, buy it for everyone you know who loves books; Four Seasons in Rome, particularly if you go to Rome; and Raising Demons, whether you are, in fact, raising your own demons, or just want a peek behind the curtain at the home life of the Shirley Jackson, Horror genius. Two I’ve recommended repeatedly in person, if not pressed copies into hands: Recovery: The Lost Art of Convalescence, a comfortingly slim work by a GP, telling us everything we know but never pay attention to: that illness should be followed by recovery, recuperation, and convalescence, that medication isn’t everything, that we are healed not just by pills or operations, but by fresh air, natural light, trees, small, good meals, and time. An almost impossible prescription, but a truth we’ve forgotten about over the last 100 years. Finally, Foolproof, out in February, which I read for work a few months ago and have not stopped talking about. How do we combat the hysterical tone of conspiracies and cults online? How do we save ourselves and our loved ones from internet misinformation? What hope is there? Loads, if Sander van der Linden has his way, which is how I like it.

Fiction, I shall try to be quick because there are so many, but all of these had impeccable writing, tight, sharp and bright, and reminded me why I love reading (and especially why I love reading for my job, which leads me across genres). Young Mungo, beautiful and devastating; Piranesi, dreamy, like an adult Diana Wynne Jones novel; They, dystopian and wonderfully creepy; The Housekeepers, which I would have given my eyeteeth to write the screenplay for, a visually luscious Victorian Ocean’s 11; Lord of the Flies, a reminder to reread those masterpieces we think we remember; The Marriage Portrait, razor-sharp writing and a rarely seen autistic girl in literature; The Birds & Other Stories, because you can’t ever go wrong with Daphne du Maurier and her subtle undermining of the patriarchy; The Weather in the Streets, funny, brutal and dry as a bone on not knowing what you want from life and messing up attempts to get it; The Vet’s Daughter — why are we not reading Barbara Comyns every day?; Foster, tiny and jewel-like; Really Good, Actually, and I beg you not to look at the author quotes and just read it, because it deserves to be loved — a High Fidelity for 2023, if that appeals, and a bleak but hilarious look at the myth of self-care if that appeals more; My Turn to Make the Tea, funny and insightful, and I love a book without a real plot; finally The Colony, which may have recency bias as the last full book I read, but the writing is flawless, even if it made me think again about the responsibility creators have to the lives they give their characters.

FILMS

Family films, if you want something lighter over the sofa season: Bill & Ted Face the Music was watched when I was extremely hormonal and I wept with joy throughout — who knows what the quality is on another day, but I loved it right then. The Man in the White Suit is a remarkable (and funny) commentary on invention and capitalism; Charade has both Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn, so really what more do you need; My Cousin Vinny has a comical Joe Pesci and Marisa Tomei, and is great for a Sunday afternoon. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is gorgeous and, as they say, iconic (’Hey! They said you were stupid’); Good Morning is gentle, stunningly shot, and makes me wish I had someone making me delicious rice every day. We had a weekend of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which started with mostly heckling but ended in my usual copious weeping. January will see me reread the marvellous books, and I’m sorry that I always used to (wrongly) agree with Paul Merton’s comments on the first book here. Animated with fresh artistry away from the bland Pixar mould, The Mitchells vs. the Machines deserved its rewatch (DEREGULATE TAPIOCA); wonderful Raiders of the Lost Ark suddenly awoke me to the fact that watching it weekly as a child meant my wedding dress was a straight mash-up of Marian’s two frocks; Little Women is perfect and I don’t regret my three cinema trips to watch it (or the many subsequent small screen viewings this year).

Four documentaries to watch: Some Kind of Heaven, which, like Mad Men, is both a celebration and a searing condemnation of the American Way. Speaking of which, Boys State: watch it, take some time to cool off, then google what they’re all up to now. The Princess is an excellent look at the building and destruction of a public icon, made up only of contemporary clips; Crip Camp is a loudhailer calling us to recognise the work and joys of disability campaigners, and to remember those human rights battles still truly needing to be fought.

I got into horror this year! Fresh and Men and Nope and The Black Phone! They’re good! They actually made me feel better about the world! 

Two cinema highlights: Jackass Forever, dumb and joyful, and Don’t Worry Darling, smarter, hotter, and more interesting than the coverage would have you believe. Pugh is a marvel and Styles does exactly what he’s meant to.

TV

Looking at them now, I understand why these five were my top picks and I gave up watching more gloomy TV after an episode or two. Slow Horses and Severance and Mythic Quest on Apple, The Witchfinder on iPlayer, and The Bear on Disney+, all wildly different genres but all containing, essentially, an existential view on humanity and the value of connection. Plus spies etc! Don't read anything about them, but if you have access, just watch a couple of episodes and see what you think. They have inspired and hooked me through the year.

FOOD

Speaking of The Bear, there is a recipe which has become an almost weekly treat here and is a direct lift from the programme, but I’ll only share it with you once you’ve watched all episodes. My god it’s good. This is the bread I’ve started making (the third one in the video), and reliably (to crib the great Jeffrey Steingarten) ‘the bread is more than good enough to eat, and some days it is so good that we eat nothing else’. Pre-Rome, I also discovered this focaccia recipe which is embarrassingly simple and tasty.

I don’t want to abandon my sourdough starter, though, so I use the dough for pizza bases, rolled out into long ovals (approx 100g per person) and topped with olive oil, fresh corn (sliced from the cob, briefly fried), mozzarella and jalapeños and cooked, then topped again with sour cream, crumbled feta, coriander and lime juice. White pizza heaven. 

This French Onion Pasta is a great filling evening meal in the cold months, as is this amazing chicken and pumpkin tray bake from Diana Henry. We occasionally leave out the chicken for vegetarian or budgetary purposes, and it’s still delicious; if you don’t make the sage butter (or forget it in the fridge), this is really good with a side bowl of 50/50 mayo and sriracha.

Gwyneth P’s Polenta & Roasted Tomatoes is unbelievably quick, and feels like a hearty but not heavy meal whenever it’s dark outside — in summer I actually managed to grow the tomatoes myself, for the first time ever (banana skin juice appears to be the secret).

Scones have seen us year-round: wild garlic scones in late spring, bramble scones in late summer, cheese scones after autumn walks — what is the winter equivalent? Fig and mature cheddar? I may experiment. Otherwise, Benjamina Ebuehi’s Pecan & Burnt Honey Cake has become an enormous favourite for dessert. Perfect on the day, and even better after a night in the fridge, it’s worth buying her (excellent) book for alone. Nigel Slater’s rice pudding gets a fair few outings too, although I still think his numbers are way off (I times everything by 1.5, except the rice which I take from 80g to 200g).

I wish you and your loved ones a great Christmas and a safe, healthy and happy 2023. x

[the-firebird69]

Several people know about it and she's easy to revive she was healthy at the time and qe did not know and she tried to check and couldn't they wouldn't let her in there. And you'll never believe who's running it it's not really a surprise but it is and it's close it's probably Tommy f and that's how it is cuz the power of the balls and stupidity so you can get it all up she's a good kid and she's doing the job kiwi says and she wants to the job couldn't get me out of the hospital thing so wound up in it mom was wound up in it and threats on her he's just terrible.

What's up kiwi could not get in and I know it's possible and then I went and checked and see why it was New Management and I saw who and yeah it's not Tommy f no probably is and yeah he's the guy who's dating me in West Palm that guy information on what he does the people in his personal habits you're in danger the whole time and that window opens and you knew it too Justin was walking around Joe was walking around mac across the street. A few more safeties so I figured it out they know what he's doing and who it is and the fight got real big like it needed to with a stifled for a long time now I can't get her out of there he's wondering what those stupid expression of her faces it's probably stressed and looks like Mom even though she's not really Mom so I figured out something it's not really Mom it's not really that's funny what are we going to do bring the van around front hey come on you get a fan those two Big fellas have to be they have to know something can I get a black van cuz I know a black man... Yeah this is Emily and it talks to me that way so I tried to get it and I couldn't and it wouldn't come out no we know who it is it's this obstinate New Jersey homo let's just say it could be Trump or it could be Tommy f or it could be both it's usually both and Trump is on his way out love you while we're hearing about it well stupid a****** like guys he's a moron doesn't have any problem to do anything now he's talking got rid of all those guys practically it's by the end of the night you know. Max and Forg will soon attack. I heard PGA looked and tried and they were sending him up there against mental health people and an army there they stood outside and said where is she and now it's going to be one there's still pretty big here and I can get a lot of people and they're moving in here and seeing something he's like getting her out right away look at that it's kind of like stuck there and locked up in the sky tummy f he says this to me please God any means why don't they know I can't I can't,. There's nothing he's like Frank Perdue of the chicken companies and you're like this fake Colonel Sanders you more like. There's a little after cuz they got to get it Tommy f looks funny sometimes it's getting a lot of chickens causing that too okay I'll get a form of a team that guys look trust with these kind of big so I wouldn't look for him I said what the hell we're going to try doing some work Emily says

There's a few as a few of us left let me know it's Tommy f is going after everybody and yeah Tommy Allen was being stocked up as a museum by Tommy f that's just doing it thanks skill doesn't have and we listen to you you're trying to figure out who it is it was a mystery and he drove you nuts and found out that may have exposed him and we found out Max stuff too tell everybody's at them for a while to go down I'd like to get out of there so we can go to Miami to some work to suck so bad everybody's being a huge dumb a****** I don't get anything and yeah tindal's probably taking over by Guy Houdini or tell me if and they said he's going to... They say the tunnel is Max under tindel

No I think not qe says

This is it I'm pressing charges against this Tommy f guy attempted homicide or homicide if Ellie is not revived and people say to hold off and we're going to try and do that well let me go to Olympus and get permission part of the team to reviver I didn't go do that

Bitol and Goddess Wife

[zamora02willard]

Prada Women's Belts

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[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

okay, so for this clip you need to know those details from sos I mentioned, in which Jens lives in the flatshare because his dad is homophobic (in sos he finds Lucas with Jens and reacts badly, and Jens eventually moves out). so this is discussed (mostly just alluded to), along with the hate crime in s3, so be aware of that. there are also vague allusions to Sander’s episode in s3. as a final content warning—this clip is also unnecessarily long 😅

Tuesday, 19:47

Songs: David Bowie - Rebel Rebel; The 1975 - Antichrist; EDEN - hertz

Robbe tugs Sander along at a somewhat rapid pace, and Sander complains as he drags his feet. “Robbe, what’s the rush?”

“Nothing,” Robbe says, too quickly, but he slows down and hugs Sander’s arm. “Nothing, sorry. Just, you know Milan, he’s pretty impatient.”

Sander narrows his eyes, but lets his boyfriend press closer and kiss his cheek. He smiles down at Robbe as the boy twines their fingers together, still guiding him down the street at a much more sedate pace.

Robbe had just taken them out for dinner, nothing overly fancy but slightly more expensive than making croques on the grill. They’d tucked themselves into a booth in a quiet cafe, which was fully decorated in shiny wood, cracked leather, and dimly glowing light. It even had an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner that Robbe convinced to play Bowie after a coin and a few prods and light kicks. The food was still cheap and greasy and Robbe’s smile was shy and Sander loved every second of it. They tangled their legs under the table and their hands atop it and it was the most perfect birthday date Sander could have imagined.

He expected to go back to one of their homes to continue the celebrations, but instead he finds himself on his way to the flatshare, apparently at Milan’s demand. It’s not entirely surprising, and fairly sweet, really, and Robbe seems mostly innocent and unfazed. Still, Sander is suspicious. He has a feeling.

Which is why he’s utterly amused and smug when they run into Lucas outside the apartment building.

Or, well, they don’t run into him. They hear him before they see him, and Robbe stiffens and curses under his breath. Then they see him standing outside his father’s car, holding a four-pack of alcohol in one hand and a clinking bag in the other. The closer they get, the easier it is to hear another familiar voice over Lucas’s.

“—just because you and that boyfriend of yours are old enough to drink that stuff, doesn’t mean everyone here is. I will not be responsible for supplying alcohol to minors, alright? I work at a youth center, for Christ’s sake.”

“Dad, literally not even half the people here will need that warning. The others have beer, and juice, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t care, Luc, I’m trusting you to be trustworthy. That’s your stash, you watch who drinks it.”

Lucas looks towards the sky in exasperation and lets out a sigh. “It’s Jens’s place, Jens’s guests, so he can take responsibility. Why didn’t you give him this speech?”

“Because he’s not my son and he’s not the one using my money to buy alcohol for his friends. He’s your boyfriend, your responsibility.”

Lucas tosses his hands up as well as he can, considering they’re full, and casts a sideways glance this time. Which means he finally catches sight of Robbe and Sander standing a few feet away, both with bemused expressions, and instantly freezes on the spot. Sander gives him a small, pleased wave, and Lucas’s shoulders slump. “Fuck.”

“Language,” Hugo van der Heijden predictably reprimands, before poking his head out the window. Sander salutes him as Robbe gives him a pointed look, and he says, “Ah, shit. Sorry, kiddo.” He directs this at Robbe before turning his kind smile on Sander. “Happy birthday.”

Sander moves closer and tugs Robbe with him, because there’s no point in pretending now. “Thanks,” he says, burying a laugh as Lucas sits on the hood of the car and sets the bag down to cover his face. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucas tells him, as Robbe pinches Sander’s arm and he winces away. He huffs and steps forward to meet Lucas as he stands, letting the younger boy envelop him in a one-armed hug. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Sander repeats, before tilting his head at Lucas’s navy-grey button up. “Aw, who thought you’d even try to clean up nice for me.”

Lucas punches his shoulder to nudge him back a step. “You’re an asshole and I don’t know why I like you.” The comment is accompanied with such a fond smile that Sander doesn’t even feel the sting. Instead he just pulls his friend away as Hugo beeps the horn and Lucas almost jumps out of his skin trying to get away. Lucas glares at his father as Robbe giggles behind them.

“Everything I said still goes,” Hugo presses. “Best behavior.”

Sander grins at the man. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after them.”

“No, you have fun. It’s their job to look after themselves, they’re big boys. Now go and act surprised.”

Robbe groans as Sander simply laughs, accepting the orders with a nod. Lucas waves at his father with a lot of clanking and rustling as a result. “Okay, you can go now too, thanks for the lift and the drinks and so on.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “You either sneak in as quietly as a mouse or be Jens’s problem for the night, understood?”

Lucas salutes him, but inevitably leans down to kiss his cheek before the man gives a final wave and drives off.

Robbe sighs while hugging Sander’s arm to his chest again. “Wanna swap dads?” he asks Lucas.

“Funny that a year ago I probably would’ve said yes,” Lucas shrugs. Then he grimaces. “Sorry, I kind of fucked up the surprise, huh?”

“Irreparably,” Robbe agrees. “Shall we go up anyway?”

“Yes, please, this will be too funny,” Sander says, delighted. The other two share a look and shake their heads and Sander just rocks on his heels and urges them forward. He feels overwhelmingly pleased now, his heart thumping and smile splitting his cheeks, which Robbe squishes together before granting him a soft kiss.

“Okay, at least be nice,” Robbe says. “I know that’s not your style, but, for me.”

Sander sighs heavily and Robbe bites down his grin. “Fine. For you. Even though it’s my birthday.”

Robbe’s grin widens and he kisses Sander’s nose before letting them into the apartment. Sander blinks at the key, and then has to quickly shrug it off as he’s steered through the short hallway and there’s a loud chorus of ‘Surprise!’

The room is fuller than Sander expects, and he actually does startle at the sight. His surprised face is fairly genuine, and there are about a dozen grins beaming back at him, and then Lucas joins in the cheer half a second too late and a dozen faces drop. There is a round of complaints and groans. Milan drops his head back in disappointment. Jens covers his face with a hand.

“Oh, fuck all of you,” Lucas says back, before raising his brows and the alcohol still weighing him down.

There’s a new round of cheers, to which Lucas responds by flipping off the room at large.

Sander is glad of how it worked out, because it’s a big enough break in the tension that everyone immediately moves into action instead of continuing to stare at him. The flat members move forward first, Jens to give Sander a clap on the back before taking the bag from Lucas and disappearing to the kitchen and Milan to engulf Sander in a hug.

“Okay,” the man says as he pulls back, holding Sander’s head in his hands. “Tell me you at least didn’t know about the surprise until Lucas messed it up.”

Sander snorts. “No, I just thought I was coming for my gifts.”

“Ha, cute.” Milan pinches his cheek, then winks. “They’re all over in the corner, but you’ll have to wait until later. Sorry if this isn’t what you expected after your date.” He raises his brows.

“It’s perfect,” Sander assures, serious this time. He glances over at Robbe. “Though maybe not for a Tuesday night?”

Robbe shrugs. “They all have their own free will. If they can’t survive their self-inflicted hangover for a few hours of school, that’s their problem.”

Sander huffs a laugh, and nods his acquiescence. “Still, though, how did you actually get everyone here?” Aside from Milan, the Broerrrs, and Senne and the girls, who Sander would expect Robbe to invite, his other friends are mingled in with the crowd. Adi chats quietly to Senne in the corner; Gilles and Luca are trapped in an animated conversation as Thomas watches on in clear amusement; Emilie is laughing at something Zoë says to her. Everyone, in one place, even the ones he thought Robbe would have no way of contacting.

“Well, I could contact Adi easily, and then I asked him about the others,” Robbe flushes. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“No, no,” Sander immediately appeases, granting him a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

Robbe smiles brilliantly.

He doesn’t realise someone else has approached him until they clear their throat, and he drags his gaze from Robbe to find Zoë in front of them, her kind smile already in place. “Happy birthday,” she says sweetly, also giving him a quick hug. “Sorry we couldn’t make it more exciting.”

“No, it’s nice,” Sander assures. “I couldn’t have liked how it worked out more.”

Her smile widens and she shakes her head at him. “Of course. I won’t hold you up, I just need to tell you Yasmina isn’t here because Ramadan and she was worried she’d just have to leave right away.”

“Yeah, no, Iftar and everything, that’s fine,” Sander smiles. “She already messaged me to say happy birthday and that hopefully she would see me again soon. I’m sure I’ll see her before the end of the week.”

“Okay, good. And obviously Jana also can’t be here, but they all pitched in on your gifts, so I’m supposed to tell you that. Senne joined me in getting you something, too.”

Sander laughs, nodding. “Okay, thank you. You know none of you had to get me anything, or do all of this.”

Zoë rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling softly. “Of course we do, Sander. This is what you have to deal with as one of us.”

It sends another flood of warmth to his heart, and he’s sure she knows it, that it’s likely the intended effect. It’s a feeling he’s been experiencing a lot today, and he suspects this won’t be the last time during the evening. For now, he gives Zoë the biggest, warmest smile he can muster and thanks her again.

“You’re welcome,” is all she says this time. She gives Robbe’s shoulder a fond squeeze as well before slipping away.

Robbe rests his chin on Sander’s shoulder and gazes up at him through his lashes. “Ready to make a round?”

Sander nods and lets his boyfriend lead the way.

Of course, Gilles latches on to them as soon as they move and raises their arms in a cheer. “Sander! Happy birthday, you beautiful bitch!”

Robbe’s laugh is louder than Sander’s, so of course that means he drags them over and plops down next to Sander’s friend as the others turn to join them. Gilles beams and ruffles Robbe’s hair in greeting, and Sander is finally gratified when Robbe makes an affronted sound and brushes them away. “Lucas helped me with this,” he complains, then flushes as he realises what he’s given away. Sander raises his brows when Robbe peeks a look up at him. Robbe huffs and catches Sander’s wrist, giving a tug so that Sander almost tumbles into his lap.

“Robbe,” he complains, laughing. “I’ll crush you.”

“No you won’t.” Robbe rolls his eyes. Then he softens his gaze, looking up at Sander with his small smile and damn doe eyes. “Come here,” he requests quietly.

Sander shakes his head, cursing internally, but gently lowers himself onto his boyfriend’s lap. He prays the chair won’t falter under their weight, and the creak is slightly worrying, but it holds steady. Robbe makes a pleased hum and winds his arms around him, immediately pressing a kiss to Sander’s shoulder and then resting his cheek there.

“Thank you,” he says, all genuine smiles and happy sighs, and Sander does not melt. He might, however, wind his arm around Robbe’s shoulder and lean into him just a little more.

Gilles makes a somewhat anguished sound, but when Sander turns to look at them they’re still beaming. They’re staring with their face resting in a hand, appearing to be in a state of utter awe. “Where can I find this? Someone give me this.”

From their other side, Luca slaps their arm. “I know, right? Guys, this isn’t fair, at least Jens and I used to have some solidarity but now he’s just as bad.”

“Sorry,” Robbe laughs, not looking even slightly apologetic as he cuddles closer to Sander. “But now you two have solidarity, right?”

Gilles lights up at the realisation, spinning to Luca again with obvious interest. Robbe giggles quietly against Sander’s collarbone, pleased with himself, and Sander ducks his head down to whisper in the boy’s ear. “Does this mean I’ve upheld the deal and actually do know cool gays for Luca?”

“Depends,” Robbe whispers back, amused. “Are you suggesting Gilles is cool?”

Sander makes a face, but doesn’t argue either way. Instead, he checks if his other friends are seeing what he’s seeing. He’s a little anxious, as he looks towards Emilie, but she’s watching Gilles and Luca with an odd consideration as Amber talks her ear off. Thomas is watching the whole thing through wide eyes from behind his glasses, but he gives Sander a subtle, enthusiastic little nod.

“How did you all manage to not mention this to me?” The thought occurs to Sander suddenly, and while he’s looking at Thomas, it’s mostly directed at Gilles.

Adi speaks up and surprises him. He hadn’t seen the older boy coming over. “I wondered that too, honestly.”

“And you’re a sneaky bastard,” Sander tells him.

Adi looks amused. “Why’s that?”

Sander scoffs. “‘Any special birthday plans for tomorrow?’,” he mocks.

“Ah, come on, you really had no idea? He didn’t give nothing away?” Adi gestures at Robbe.

“I thought we were just going to have an...interesting date,” Sander shrugs, making Robbe blush.

Adi laughs. “What, are we boring you?”

“Yes, get out of my sight,” Sander says, deadpan, and Robbe lets out a startled laugh as Adi gapes at him.

“Emilie tried to make sure you wouldn’t notice anything and I tried to keep Gilles as far away from you as possible.” The explanation Thomas gives makes sense, and Robbe extends his arm behind Sander to high-five him, and Gilles is thankfully too busy to notice.

They sit around talking for an indiscernible amount of time before Sander wiggles his way free of Robbe. The boy protests, of course, trying to cling on and pull Sander back towards him, so Sander leans down and grants him a kiss before moving away. No one else tries to stop him from leaving the room, and he’s hopeful he’ll have a straight path to the kitchen. He’s starting to feel antsy, and he needs to move around and take something in, and what’s better than a drink?

When he steps out into the hallway, however, he runs into Milan again, who has just opened the door for Noor.

He panics for a brief moment, eyes flicking around for blonde hair as he debates if he should go on without acknowledging them. But Noor has already caught sight of him and is giving her brilliant smile, and no one pops out of thin air behind her, so Sander roots himself to the spot. “Hey,” he greets, aiming for cheerful. His tone manages, but he’s doubtful of his smile, which he thinks wavers alongside his balance.

“Happy birthday,” she says. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek, hopefully not leaving a bright lipstick stain. (She occasionally does it on purpose and waits for the target to notice, and with everyone else in on the game, the unlucky soul is rarely offered any help.) Sander raises a hand to his cheek cautiously and Noor simply laughs in response, shaking her head. “Not on your birthday.”

Sander narrows his eyes, because honestly, it seems like a perfectly innocent birthday prank. He weighs the possibility for a moment before nodding in acceptance and letting his smile widen again. “Thank you.”

She holds up the little bag in her hand and waves it at him. “Milan says there’s a time and place for these, otherwise I’d just pass it over now.” She lowers her arm and hesitates for a moment, smile shifting as she seems to debate if she should tell Sander what she’s thinking or not. “Britt couldn’t make it, but she helped me pick out the gift.”

Sander takes it for the crooked olive branch it is and nods. “Thank you, seriously,” he says. “And you can extend it to Britt?”

“Of course.” Noor smiles again and squeezes his shoulder before going to join the others. Sander looks after her for a moment before finally getting to the kitchen.

This seems to be the most party-like room in the house. The entire counter is littered with snacks and there are rainbow-coloured fairy lights strung along the cupboards. There’s a stack of party hats and a precarious pile of paper plates. The table has pretty much been turned into a mini-bar, with countless alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks spread out, as well as what must be at least five packs of red party cups. It even appears to have a bartender; Moyo stands behind it mixing a drink, flicking and flipping bottles around and bopping his head and hips to the tempo of the music. He doesn’t even look up as Sander makes his way over, just holds up a hand in a signal to wait.

Sander stares at the table. His pulse feels suddenly quicker. The bottles of beer are sitting closest to him, at the edge of the table, and he allows his fingers to brush over the neck of one. It’s not unfamiliar, of course. He doesn’t even know why he’s hesitating.

It’s just that he should be at home right now, working on the assignment he’d messed up. It’s just that he has class tomorrow, and doesn’t really want to suffer through it with a hangover. It’s just that things have been actually going well.

It’s just that, no matter how long it’s been, he remembers feeling suffocated. He remembers going from burning up to drowning in frigid air, from too much to nothing. He remembers feeling everything at top intensity only to drop into a debilitating state of numbness. Even when it blurs, he remembers.

“Hey, man.” Moyo breaks him out of his thoughts. His voice is uncharacteristically soft, and when Sander looks up, his expression is understanding. “Look, it’s your birthday. Robbe’s right there, and Lucas, and plenty of other friends. And if you want to take a drink, none of them are going to stop you. They never do. It’s always chill, you’re fine.”

Sander opens his mouth, then closes it again. He feels awkward and fidgety and he doesn’t actually want to respond to that. He doesn’t want to think about this.

Not now, he pleads silently.

“Or,” Moyo continues, before Sander would have been able to get two words out anyway. “You can let me make you a mocktail.”

He’s grinning, but Sander can only blink. “A mocktail?”

“Yeah. You know, a cocktail, but without the alcohol?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever tried a cocktail.”

Moyo’s grin widens, and he spreads his hands to show off his stash. “It’s your lucky night then. I honestly prefer mocktails, because the alcohol usually just makes them extra sharp and leaves a shitty aftertaste. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He points at Sander warningly, and Sander holds his hands up, smiling slightly now as he nods.

“I heard it.”

They both jump at the voice, but it’s just Senne in the doorway. He smirks a little before coming to join them, leaning his hip on the table so his body is twisted slightly towards Sander while he can still keep Moyo in his expectant gaze.

“Alright.” Moyo rubs his hands together, seeming to accept Senne’s presence and entrust him with their secrets. “I’m gonna make you my personal fave, and if you don’t like it or when you finish it, you come back to me for another. Got it? I am your server for the evening.”

“I’m flattered,” Sander admits, and Moyo winks at him before bursting into another flurry of movement. He’s a little apprehensive, unsure if he should really be taking anything Moyo concocts. They don’t actually know each other that well, despite how long it’s been and how frequently they hang out in the same group. Sander thinks this might be the first time they’ve actually interacted one-on-one. But Moyo has never given Sander any reason to distrust him, and the look he’d given him had been knowing. Moyo probably understands better than he thinks.

That thought still feels a little bitter, so he brushes it away and just watches the other work, trying to tune his thoughts out with the sound of the music and sheer determination.

He can enjoy himself. He’d even worked a lot on his assignment today already, knowing he’d be meeting up with Robbe in the evening. Robbe wouldn’t be keeping him away if he didn’t think Sander could manage it, and Sander trusts Robbe’s faith in him. It’s even enough to make him smile as he watches on with apprehension.

“Are you gonna make me one of these too?” Senne asks, head tilted curiously.

“Nope,” Moyo says, without a hint of hesitation. “Special birthday treat. Anyway, don’t pretend you didn’t come looking for alcohol.”

Senne lifts a beer and has the cap off in an instant. He tilts it at Moyo and takes a slug in confirmation, before turning to lean back against the table and giving Sander his full attention. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Sander grins. “How’s blissful married life?”

Senne scoffs at him, but he’s still smirking slightly. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’d say it’s going very well,” Sander hums.

Senne’s smirk softens into a smile, and he crosses his arms before casually taking a sip of his beer. “You’re still treating my boy right, then.”

Moyo snorts, barely halting his movements as he raises a brow at Senne. “Your boy?”

“Hey.” Senne presses a finger to his own chest as he looks over his shoulder at Moyo. “I was the hot older guy in his life first.”

Sander and Moyo just burst into laughter. “Yeah, but in like, a teen dad kinda way, right?” Sander muses, squinting as if he’s trying to recall where he got the description.

“A hot dad,” Senne keeps up his argument.

“A DILF,” Moyo offers.

Sander laughs again as Senne points at the boy in agreement. Moyo finally passes him a full cup with a triumphant expression. Sander takes the cup and then a small sip. He lets the liquid coat his tongue, savours it as it slips down his throat. His brows raise, and he holds the cup back out to Moyo in a toast. “You’re good.”

Moyo taps Sander’s cup with his own and cheers.

At some stage, he ends up alone on the couch. The others, by now, are spread out all over the house, but most of them are in here, chatting or dancing. While most are energised by whatever alcohol they’ve consumed, Sander is nursing his second mocktail and beginning to feel the weight of a long day. Still, he tips his head back against the cushions and watches his friends and he feels okay.

Jens joins him, eventually. Sander doesn’t even see him come in, and then he’s dropping wordlessly into the empty space next to him. The silence lingers on for a moment, both of them content in it. The exact reason Sander enjoys Jens’s company.

After a while, he holds his beer bottle out to Sander with a raised brow. It takes Sander a moment to figure out why, and then he bumps his cup against it. Jens nods in approval and takes a gulp, and Sander watches his eager swallows in silent contemplation.

“Enjoying your birthday?” Jens finally breaks the silence, glancing back and forth between Sander and the others dancing.

Sander shrugs, nodding. “It’s a more exciting day than I expected, honestly.”

Jens hums, then takes another sip. He doesn’t say anything else.

It’s strange. Jens isn’t the loudest one of the group, by far, but he’s being oddly quiet. His slouched posture could be his usual chill demeanor, but it seems too tense. Sullen. It’s weirding Sander out, a little, and he wants to understand it so it isn’t quite so freaky, but it still takes a moment to convince himself to ask.

“What’s wrong?”

Jens startles at the question. He looks over at Sander in surprise, eyes a little wide. Just as quickly, he’s looking away again and clearing his throat, sitting up a little straighter before he speaks. “What? Nothing.”

Sander narrows his eyes, but doesn’t prod. If Jens doesn’t want to tell him, that’s fine. They aren’t besties. Sander can just quietly inform Robbe, who will deal with it himself, and then Sander won’t even have to feel guilty. It’s not actually his place. Instead, he just waits.

“I think Luc is pissed at me,” Jens mutters, after all of about five seconds.

Sander huffs, but frowns slightly. He looks out at their friends. It doesn’t take him long to find Lucas—mostly because he’s right next to Robbe. Whereas Robbe is twirling Noor around in a fitting dance to the music, however, Lucas is focused on a more chaotic Milan who seems to be attempting to show him some rather sensual moves. Lucas, equally, does <i>not</i> seem to do his best to follow along, poorly mimicking the moves through hysterical laughter.

“He doesn’t seem pissed,” Sander muses, turning back to Jens with a brow raised pointedly. Jens shrugs and looks down at his beer, tracing his fingertip around the top, and Sander sighs and thinks fuck it. “What’s wrong, Jens?”

Jens glances up at him, and then down again, and then lets out a sigh of his own. “She finally kicked him out.”

Sander blinks, and has to think for a moment. When realisation hits, he decides he probably should not be the one handling this conversation. He has to tread lightly. Maybe he should just pretend he has to pee to escape and then fetch Robbe, instead. But...Jens has trusted him with it.

Dammit.

“Your dad?” he asks quietly.

Jens nods.

“Isn’t that a good thing? What does it have to do with Lucas? I mean...aside from the obvious.”

“Well, because.” Jens pauses to run a hand through his hair, frustrated. “He’s not even gone yet, and Lucas wants me to move home.”

Sander purses his lips in understanding. “You don’t want to.”

“Why would I?” Jens huffs. Then he pulls a face that’s faintly apologetic before shaking his head. Sander realises he’s likely more than a little tipsy, if his rapid but sloppy speech is anything to go by, along with the seemingly senseless hand gestures he’s making. “I do miss my mom, I guess, and Lotte, but still. I go into my room and it’s just...it’s suffocating. And Lucas is pissed about it. Well, I guess he’s more pissed on my behalf. He says that what happened shouldn’t get to control me so much, especially when the asshole’s not even there. That I shouldn’t have to keep making the sacrifice because of it when I have the freedom to go back now.”

This is starting to sound very familiar, and that hits rather close to home.

There suddenly isn’t enough air, and his chest is suddenly tight, breaths just a little too shallow. He flicks his gaze around until it lands on Robbe again. He’s moved onto dancing with Zoë now, her confidently leading his more awkward frame. Some of the tension in Sander eases, and he swallows down the feeling in favour of trying to form a coherent response.

“But that doesn’t mean he’s pissed at you,” Sander says carefully. “It also doesn’t sound unreasonable, and it’s not like he doesn’t understand. He just wants the best and the most for you.” He wants you to have the world. The universe, if possible. He doesn’t want anything to be taken from you, and especially not because of him.

Jens seems to accept this, but still frowns slightly, still makes himself a little smaller. “But I’m happy here. I’m happy. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Sander swallows. He lets his eyes shift from Robbe to Lucas, and finds his friend staring back at him. Lucas’s expression is mostly blank, but Sander can see the concern etched into his eyes and the pinch of his lips. Sander offers him a hesitant smile and after a moment, he looks away.

“Maybe it’s not enough for him,” he says.

Jens’s face falls.

Sander quickly shakes his head. “No, I mean—maybe it’s because of how it still affects him. He doesn’t want it to control how he feels. He wants to be bigger than it, move past it, but there’s nothing he really can do. Except for helping you. If he’s seeing you deal with it and recover from it, then it makes it easier for him, too.”

The feeling of too much is creeping in. He’s thinking too much, saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much away. It’s an overreaction, maybe. After so long, surely. That event shouldn’t still affect him like this, right? It shouldn’t still feel like a shock to his system. He can only hope it doesn’t appear like one outwardly.

But Jens is just silently contemplative as he takes in what Sander has said, eyes lingering on his boyfriend thoughtfully. When he turns back to Sander, he’s simply curious. “Has he spoken to you about it?”

Sander doesn’t even have to think back. “No. Aside from at the time, he’s never brought it up. I didn’t want to do it and just hurt him, so it wasn’t discussed.”

Jens purses his lips and nods. His smile is self-derogatory. “You just know my best friend and my boyfriend better than me.”

“No,” Sander says again, even though he’s not as sure. He’s fairly sure. The only people he knows who seem as close as Jens and Lucas are Robbe and himself. “I’m just speaking from experience,” he admits quietly.

Now Jens’s gaze sharpens, and he actually looks at Sander. It takes no time, then, for the realisation to set in, and he curses under his breath. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this to you right now, anyway, it’s your birthday.” He rubs his hand over his face and huffs. “Sorry, I swear, sometimes I have no tact. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, stop.” Sander waves him off. He hesitates only slightly before continuing. “I’m glad. That you’re comfortable enough that you could talk to me about it. I think the universe seriously wants us to be friends, at this point.”

Jens snorts. “I think you’re all seriously weird about your universe stuff.”

Sander grins at him. “The universe stuff will take over you eventually, too. I don’t know how it hasn’t already, how long have you known Robbe?”

This time Jens just rolls his eyes silently, but he’s smiling now too.

“Seriously,” Sander says. “Thank you. It doesn’t matter about the timing, I’m glad you can talk to me.”

Jens’s smile softens, and he gives a small nod. “Maybe we should all be able to talk about it more,” he says quietly.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

They return to a short lapse of silence, and Sander takes a sip of his forgotten drink. The fruity liquid soothes his throat, and the break in the conversation allows more of the pressure to release. His heartbeat feels normal again by the time Jens turns back to him.

“Thanks, though. Seriously. You’re probably right, about Luc. I’ll talk to him.”

Sander just feels pleased as he smiles now, like he accomplished something, said something right. The mood and balance is being restored, and he just needs to accept the segway and lighten things further. “If you want to thank me, I’m sure you can play a pretty piano version of ‘Happy Birthday’.”

“Fuck you,” Jens scoffs, eyes narrowing slightly.

“So you can’t? I thought that would’ve been fairly basic, but okay.” Sander shrugs, taking a casual sip of his drink to strengthen the taunting.

Jens glares hotly at him. “Fuck you. Of course I can play ‘Happy Birthday’.” Jens drags himself to his feet and jabs a finger at him. “Don’t move then.”

Balance immediately restored, Sander thinks amusedly.

Milan pauses Jens as he makes his way through the crowd, and Sander watches as Jens says something in response and Milan beams. He shoots a look at Sander before the two of them are flouncing off, and moments later, Sander is being subjected to a much louder, much further off-key rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, and more candles.

The keyboard bit is fine, though, he grudgingly admits.

When Jens sets it aside, Lucas is there grabbing his hands and dragging him to his feet as Robbe does the same to Sander. They’re both smiling through their protests, and everyone can see it.

So now, they’re dancing.

It feels more lively, after that. Everyone is gathered on their makeshift dance-floor by now. Sander takes catalogue of them all, marveling at how Gilles has somehow managed to rope Thomas and even Adi into dancing. Emilie is now the one with Luca, both of them laughing as they sway around with their hands joined between them. Noor and Moyo have gravitated towards each other as usual and, instead of huddling close like the others, seem to have a teacher–student method of dancing going on that Noor keeps up with rather well. Milan, Zoë and Senne are dancing in a little circle, and Amber and Aaron have moved on to just standing amidst it all and kissing. Jens and Lucas aren’t dancing anymore, either, but they’re held close. Sander watches until Jens leans down to murmur something in Lucas’s ear and Lucas smiles, leaning into the taller boy as Jens kisses his temple.

Satisfied, Sander is finally able to focus on the boy in his own arms. Robbe is already watching him when Sander catches his gaze, brow slightly furrowed and lips slightly quirked in that adorable questioning expression. Sander draws him closer by the waist and interrupts their step-swaying to catch him in a kiss, and as the music gets louder, his mind quiets.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #van der stoffels #or as much as they’re in it #sander season #tracing time #i’m super insecure about all of these clips ✌🏻 hope it doesn’t totally suck #lucas is definitely that isak that cares about his hair #hugo is still my fave oc

[canvas-the-florist]

Two Halves Make a Whole

Ship(s): Romantic Logince, Background Platonic Moxiety, Platonic Dukeceit, Creativitwins (they’re all friends okay I make the rules)

Warnings: Swearing, blood mention and mutilation of meat, alcohol mention, NSFW mention (not that much just like… saying someone had sex in a sentence), food mention, possible second hand embarrassment

Summary: The thing about idioms is that Logan has a hard time understanding them metaphorically, and tends to stick with the more logical reasons. Which can be confusing to the others when he starts calling Roman his “other half”. (Thank you to @hteragram-x for letting me use their post as inspiration <3)

Word Count: ~2.7k

-

   They had just finished up recording a video. Something about accepting trauma and accepting that you’re allowed to move on from it. Thomas went up to his room for a nap while Patton walked over to sit by Virgil on the stairs. Roman wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders with a big smile. “You did so well, Pocket Protector! Not as well as me but I’m sure you’ll catch up soon!”

   Logan rolled his eyes and moved out from under Roman’s arm and crossed his. “Thanks. You were… adequate as well. Despite messing up a three sentence line five times.”

   Roman let out a loud scoff attracting the attention of Patton and Virgil. Patton covered up a laugh with a cough that wasn’t very convincing. “It was a very difficult line, Logan! How dare you accuse Creativity of messing up!”

   “Did Princey mess up another line?” Virgil asked from his place on the stairs. Patton punched his arm, muttering that it was rude. “I’m just asking a question, Pops. I’m not intending to be mean.”

   “Virgil!” Roman was red in the face with embarrassment and turned back to Logan who had a small smile. Roman’s face softened slightly over his little giggle before remembering he was supposed to be upset. “Logan you sicked Virgil on me!”

   “I do not believe that Virgil is sick. If he is, we should attend to that immediately.”

   “That was an expression, Alan Boring.” Roman corrected. “Do you want me to add a vocab card?”

   “Yes, thank you.” Roman gave a thumbs up and sunk out. Logan walked over to the remaining sides. “Well, my other half is working on that I believe we should cover what to do to keep Thomas healthy during the editing process for the video.”

   Virgil fell down a step causing Patton to fall to the ground completely. Virgil coughed and moved back up while Logan just looked confused. “Your other half?”

   “Yes?” Logan pulled out a vocab card. “There is a theory that the brain is composed of two parts, logic and creativity. Two halves making a whole person. While this is not factual I thought the idiom would work with Roman and myself. Is that not correct?”

   “Logan-” Virgil started but Patton cut him off.

   “That’s really sweet that you’re picking up nicknames like Roman and I! I’m sure that Roman would appreciate it. Too bad he wasn’t here to see or understand your quip.”

   At this point Roman showed up with about three index cards in his hands. He walked over to the others staring at his cards as he moved. “Okay so I made the card but then I got distracted and doodled on these ones but I think they turned out okay. So, I want Patton’s validation on- Wait are you guys talking about the schedule without me? Rude.”

   “My apologies, Roman, we haven't covered anything important yet as I had to explain a joke but I would like your contributions to this conversation as well.” Logan gave a smile and Roman tightened his grip on the cards. “Are you going to hand me the card, Roman?”

   “Oh yeah, here you go.” Roman had a crush and didn’t want to do shit about it.

   The talk took awhile. Especially after Janus and Remus joined which was just chaos disguised as two sides. But that wasn’t the only chaos afoot! A few hours after the meeting and a lot hours past when Thomas should have been asleep, Virgil walked to Patton’s room, knocking on the door softly. Worried that he was too quiet he was about to knock again when the door swung open. Virgil quickly backed up to avoid accidentally punching Thomas’s morality.

   “Uh, hey Patton. Can we talk?” He asked, now fidgeting with his hands.

   Patton gave a concerned look but nodded and moved out of the way to let Virgil in. He closed the door and turned to Virgil with a comforting smile. “You seem nervous, kiddo. Why don’t you hold one of those plushies? That usually helps me.”

   He grabbed a bean filled one that looked like a tiny elephant without a mouth and beads for eyes. Virgil tossed it in between his hands for a few moments while Patton sat down across from him. “I’m just going to get into it before I talk myself out of it. Why didn’t you tell Logan about him using a pet name for Roman?”

   Patton blinked before smiling. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. Well, that’s an easy one Virgil! I think that this will be good for Logan. Using nicknames is something that an emotional side would do. This might be his way of opening up.”

   “Are… Are you sure? This seems more like… Deceit’s thing.”

   “Well, his name is Janus, Virgil and we don’t see eye to eye but I think that Logan becoming honest with his emotions is a good thing. You don’t agree and you can tell him if you want. I won’t take that from you. Just consider it.”

   Virgil held the elephant up to his face and sighed. He pulled up his legs so he was able to rest his chin on his knees. “I guess it would be embarrassing to know you’ve been using a word with romantic connotations without knowing it…” He made direct eye contact with Patton who was listening to what Virgil had to say. “You think this is going to be good for him?” He nodded and Virgil dropped his legs back to the ground. “Okay, we won’t tell him. I’ll tell him if he asks but if you think this is the right thing to do, I trust you.”

   “Thank you, Virgil.”

-

   Janus, Roman, Logan, and Patton were having a picnic in the imagination. Virgil and Remus decided not to go for separate reasons. Virgil mumbled something unintelligible and hissed at Janus before sinking out quickly while Remus was busy painting over a copy of Vincient Van Gogh’s “Two Rats” with what seemed to be blended pork rinds and blood. Janus had a cup of wine, Patton had a capri-sun, Roman had a lemonade, and Logan just had water. They were having a… civil conversation on whether 100 lions or 100 pokemon would win in a fight.

   “Bitch you know that pokemon would win!” Roman yelled pointing at Janus dramatically, who was nursing his wine. “They have magic powers! Lions are just animals!”

   Janus took a sip and let out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pokemon are over glorified rats at most.”

   “Why do they have to fight at all?” Patton asked, pretending not to enjoy Janus and Roman having a conversation that wouldn’t end in tears. He was genuinely upset about the fighting even if it meant two of his friends were finally interacting. “Couldn’t they just be friends?”

   “Do I have to be the one to point out that pokemon don’t exist?”

   Roman stuck out his tongue and picked up his glass again. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

   “Very well, if my other half says so. The lions would win.” Logan reached for an orange slice calmly as Janus raised an eyebrow. Roman was so offended by Logan’s side of the story that he didn’t even notice Patton trying not to choke on his drink.

   “Oh so you’re on the Lying King’s side?”

   “Lions hunt in a group and as I understand pokemon they fight one at a time in a turn based system. For a fight the lions would have a higher advantage.” Logan put the slice in his mouth while Roman narrowed his eyes.

   “What about legendaries?!”

   The fight continued for thirty minutes and Patton decided that the picnic was over. Janus came back to the dark side and hung up his cape in his room. He turned to Remus. “How did the painting go?”

   “Oh just wonderful, the entrails made a smiley face! Look!” Remus held up the canvas too close to Janus’s face. He took a step back and looked it over. If it wasn’t covered in guts it did look rather intriguing and interesting to look at. Janus clapped his hands together.

   “It looks amazing, Remus. Better than the original!” Janus wasn’t lying (for once) because it was just a shitty thing to do when someone is asking for feedback on art.

   “Thanks Jan! How’d the orgy with the light sides and my brother go?”

   Janus shrugged. “Just detestable. The sandwiches lacked but I did find out some information. Were you aware that your brother and Logic are dating?”

   Remus put his hands to his cheeks with an over dramatic gasp. “You’re telling me that little Roman is boning the nerd?! This is the best thing that’s happened since radiation poisoning!”

   “Yeah, I agree. So, want to watch Into the Woods?”

   “Is that even a question dipshit?!”

-

   Roman, Remus, and Logan were going over the storyboards for the next Sanders Sides. Creativities and Logic. It was going well, and Roman was feeling confident that it was going to be fun, even if they definitely weren’t getting it out on time. Logan got up and stretched.

“We’ve been working for two hours and 37 minutes we should take a break. I will bring us snacks. Do you want anything?”

   “Strawberries.”

   “No thanks I brought my own.”

   “Okay, strawberries for my other half and an empty glass for Remus.”

   “Thanks Logan!” Roman hadn’t taken his eyes off the notes, scanning for any discrepancies or something that could be done better while Remus looked over his shoulder taking a bite of deodorant. They stayed in silence for a second before Roman felt Remus staring at him and finally looked up. “What?”

   “So how long have you and Logie-Poo been having sex?”

   “I… what? We’re not- Why would you assume that???” Roman’s face went red and looked incredulously at his brother.

   “Jan-Jan told me that you and Logan have been ‘dating’ two weeks ago. And he just called you ‘his other half’ like a gay person. Are you not…” Remus made a lewd gesture with his hands.

   “No! We’re not… Wait… his other half? Did, did Logan really call me that?”

   “Wow! You’re really oblivious!”

   “Umm, shut up!” Roman’s face turned red as he hid it in his hands, completely flustered and unsure how to react to the situation. Had Logan been hitting on him for two weeks? Had it been longer than that? Remus laughed at him and hit his back. Roman rolled his eyes and sat back up. “What should I even do about this? I’m kind of tempted just to hide this in the back of my head for five years or some sort of grand gesture… Those are romantic, right?”

   “Or you could just make out with him! Well, consensually.” Roman punched him and Remus just kept giggling. “He HAS been calling you a disgustingly cute pet name for a LONG ASS time, dude… Haha ass…” Remus seemed to space out after that so Roman sunk out and appeared again in the living room. And Logan just so happened to be reading a book on the couch. Roman blushed again and cleared his throat.

   “Logan I need to talk to you.”

   He raised an eyebrow, closing his book after putting in a bookmark. Roman’s fist clenched around his sash to calm his nerves. “You wouldn’t NEED to talk to me for any reason so I’m going to assume you mean that you have some information to convey to me?”

   “I… umm, yeah.” Roman took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Why… Why have you been calling me your ‘Other Half’?” He leaned his head back and tried to calm down. He’s had a crush on Logan for a while and there was a sliver of a chance it might be reciprocated. Roman kind of felt like crying.

   “Oh, that?” Logan took a deep breath in and smiled, not that Roman could see. “Well, there’s an incorrect theory about the right and left hemispheres of the brain being logic and creativity. Therefore, you would be my other half.”

   Roman didn’t look at Logan, trying not to feel too disappointed. “That makes sense. Thanks for telling me, Logan. I’ll see you later…” His hand dropped to his side and he got ready to sink out, focusing only on his breathing. He made eye contact with Logan to see genuine confusion on his face. Roman gave a smile and began sinking out-

   “Roman wait!” He stopped. Logan had stood up and ran up to him. “Is that not what you wanted? I’m going to be direct because this is confusing to me but… Roman do you reciprocate romantic feelings for me? Because I really want to date you!”

   He didn’t respond immediately. Roman searched Logan’s face and he seemed to be meaning this. The passion on his face almost made Roman melt. He nodded slightly and decided for the first and only time to take Remus’s advice. Roman leaned towards Logan, grabbing his tie, and kissed him.

-

  The sides were hanging out in the kitchen while they were all working together to make a fam-ILY dinner. Virgil was tapping his foot nervously while vaguely listening to whatever Remus was ranting about. Patton and Janus were putting together the ingredients for a vegetable pie (excluding carrots of course) while Logan was making orange juice. Roman sat on the counter bantering with Janus. He laughed loudly and boldly, wiping a tear from his eye when his snake friend made a particularly bad pun.

   “Roman, my other half, would you please pass over the raspberries?” Logan asked easily. Virgil grumbled nervously, looking over at Patton, who was in a flour-based food fight with Remus. He sighed loudly and walked over Logan, finally cracking.

   He breathed in, ringing his hands. “Logan you’ve been calling Roman a pet name this entire time! The left brain right brain thing isn’t why people say my other half! I’m sorry for not telling you but Patton said to!”

   Roman and Logan looked at each other before looking back at Virgil. Roman quietly handed the raspberries to Logan before giving a soft smile. “Didn’t you know? Logan and I have been together, Storm cloud. It’s been a pet name this entire time.” Janus snickered to himself while putting the pie in but decided not to say anything.

   “You have?” Virgil asked.

   Logan nodded. “Yes, Virgil. Roman and I are indeed in a romantic relationship. Now, we’re going to set the table. Grab the plates?”

   Virgil stayed speechless, frozen in the kitchen until he got hit on his shoulder with flour. Roman got out the forks and walked to the table while Logan continued stirring the orange juice concentrate. After the pie finished, Patton helped serve everyone. Virgil stayed silent, with his forehead leaning on the table in shame. Eventually he started joining the conversation, ignoring his own embarrassment.

   When everyone finished up dinner. Logan volunteered to wash the dishes and Roman was the slowest to put away the food, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen. Roman gave Logan a hug from the back.

   “Your adorable, Logan.”

   “It’s ‘you’re’, Roman.” He corrected calmly, cleaning off a plate.

   “What? How did you- never mind. You ARE adorable, Logan. Even when you’re acting like a smartass.” Logan chuckled and twisted back to face Roman. He wrapped his arms around Roman to make it a full hug. “This is nice. I’m glad we’re dating.”

   “Even when I’m a smart ass, like you said.”

   “Even then.”

Taglist: @bullet-tothefeels @logan-sanders-enthusiast @local-art-cryptid @lizzy-lineart @jasmine-loves @justanonymous @enby-wizard @openthedoorplease @crossiantgay @meowthefluffy @as-the-stars-foretold @sablesides @thedukeofdeodorant-main

#logince #emile writes #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #creativitwins #platonic moxiety #sander sides fic #fake shitpost #romantic logince

[haloud]

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 8

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Forrest returns from his trip, and he and Alex clash over Michael’s presence in his life.

Excerpt:

Was Forrest right?

Was he taking advantage of Michael? No. His first instinct was no. Michael came to him when he was in need—something Alex still wasn’t letting himself stop to process.

But the thing Forrest said about power…

If he searched himself, if he had to put it in such terms: Michael did make Alex feel powerful. He always had. From the very first day, when Alex offered the only thing he had—the rebellious kindness he practiced mostly because his father wanted to stamp it out—and Michael took it, took it shy and suspicious, but then grew towards him like a sunflower. That made him feel powerful. And it would be dishonest to say he didn’t feel powerful every time he came and went and no matter what Michael was still there waiting when he returned, no matter how much, yeah, Michael made him feel weak, too, knew just the right words to say to cut the deepest.

Control was a commodity. Alex starved for it his entire life and gorged himself when it was available, and only now was he in a place where he could begin on the work of balancing himself out. Michael told him once that he never said no to him—how able was Alex to judge when they crossed such old, familiar lines worn away by the traffic they’d seen over the past eleven years? How much could Michael be trusted to see those lines either, or to tell him if they were crossed instead of just taking it?

They needed to talk. They always needed to talk. It never got any easier. And what the hell was all the talking for, if not…that thing Forrest was worrying about? Not cheating, no, but was there still some part of him that still dreamed his old dream of what peace looked like, Michael in the early morning, and birdsong after rain, and nowhere to be but here?

Sorry I’ve been so quiet. It’s been a pretty stressful few days. I love the pictures, and I hope your trip was fun.

Alex pressed send and sent a picture of himself and Buffy cuddling in the early morning along with it.

Forrest’s reply was almost instant.

 No problem, babe. It’s been great, but I’m also ready to be home…and see you again.  😉

He sighed. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he searched for the right words to explain the situation before Forrest walked right into it, to explain why he was sharing his home with Michael, to explain why Alex balked and deflected and talked his way around every suggestion that Michael could be on his own now, that he was healed enough to make do alone. Maybe Forrest wouldn’t understand, but Alex owed him at least that much. Right?

Looking forward to seeing you, too, he said, then dropped his phone onto his chest and ran a hand over his face.

The house was quiet around him. Michael was an early riser, but a stealthy one; thus far, even Alex’s hypersensitive hearing hadn’t been piqued or sent into an anxious, paranoid spiral by so much as the sound of a foot tread from rooms away. At first, the silence troubled Alex, brought up thoughts of Michael laying stuck in his bed afraid of disturbing Alex, afraid of him, but he’d started his own day only to find Michael’s already begun enough times now to find the quiet peaceful, thoughtful.

The buzz of his phone was jarring in comparison. He picked it up to check it.

 Oh yeah? Been lonely there without me?  😉  😉  😉

Alex threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.

He was saved from having to come up with a response by another message coming through quickly: Kidding—the first group just got called to board, so I don’t have time for all that. See you soon, babe.

Alex responded, See you soon. Sure you don’t need a ride from the airport? Call me if Wyatt flakes.

 I will. But I think it’ll be fine.

Okay. He hesitated again. This was his last chance to say something about Michael before Forrest was back in Roswell. But, chickening out, he just said, Call me even if you just don’t want to spend three hours in the car with him.

Forrest responded with a kissing emoji, and that was that.

Eventually, Alex got out of bed and got ready for the day. He’d taken to not wearing his uniform when off base in deference to Michael’s deep discomfort with it, and, though at times inconvenient, it was worth it to walk into the kitchen and see Michael at the table with a bowl of cereal, and for him to look up and smile at Alex instead of lean back and close off.

“Got any plans for today?” Michael asked as Alex checked his watch and grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter to eat on his way.

“Nothing much beyond work. Forrest is coming home today. He has a short layover in Denver, so between that and the drive from Albuquerque, he should get back to Roswell around the time I get off.”

“Oh. Right.”

Michael’s voice was flat, and Alex didn’t know what to do with it, so he stood at attention and waited for Michael to make the next move.

“Max will be devastated,” was all he said. In her basket in the corner, Buffy slept on.

Alex’s lips quirked up. “Maybe we can set up play dates for them. Honestly, Forrest would probably appreciate someone taking her to the park or something when he gets deep into writing or research.”

“Huh. I’ll let Max know.” He took the last bite of his cereal and stood to rinse it in the sink. Every day he regained a little more strength, but Alex’s keen eyes still couldn’t miss the uneven shakiness of his limbs or the hollowness around his eyes.

Alex checked his watch again. He needed to get going, but it was harder than he’d ever expected to leave Michael in the mornings, a thought that left guilty grit in the pit of his stomach. His heart and mind hit on a pattern he didn’t mean, a dangerous domestic assumption that wasn’t fair to anyone, not Michael, not himself, and not Forrest. The first few days, laying in the dark at night trying to locate Michael’s beat and breath from across the house, he’d told himself it was just worry for him that rooted those thoughts in his head, that if Michael was in his house for any other reason, things would be different. If it was a lie, well, Alex was comfortable with lying to himself.

“I’ll make myself scarce,” Michael was saying as he put his bowl in the drying rack.

“What?”

He shrugged and turned to face Alex, leaning his weight back against the counter. “I figured it’d be awkward if your boyfriend showed up and I was here. So I’ll make sure I’m gone by the time he gets back.”

“Michael, no.” Alex’s heart pounded sickly in his chest—Jones lying in wait to get Michael alone—Michael collapsing to the floor of his trailer, red pouring from his mouth, ears, and eyes—Michael powerless and pulled over on the side of the road to Sanders’s, apprehended and shoved in the back of a Project Shepherd van—"You can stay here as long as you need to—until we know it’s safe and the threats are eliminated. It’s not pity, it’s the same reason Max is living with Isobel right now, right? And she’s only got the one guest room.”

He was babbling, excuses flowing like wine. But no sacrificed dignity was too far if it meant keeping Michael safe—making him understand.

Continuing, he said, louder and firmer, “Frankly, no potential target should be alone right now. This shouldn’t wait until Thursday—I’m going to get in contact with Maria, Rosa, and Kyle today and work out a buddy system. Someone might have to double up; would it bother you if Maria—”

“Alex,” Michael interrupted softly. “It’s okay.”

Alex stopped in his tracks. When had he started pacing?

Michael stepped forward and, with only a heartbeat’s hesitation, so quick Alex might have imagined it, he put a warm, solid hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“If you think it’s safer, I won’t go anywhere.”

Swallowing, Alex nodded. His hand twitched at his side, but he didn’t pick it up to wrap it around Michael’s wrist and hold him there.

While they stood there, caught in the moment, dawn through the window catching dew on a spider’s web, Alex’s watch beeped little and tinny.

“Looks like you do gotta go somewhere,” Michael said, voice comfortingly casual, dropping his hand and stepping away.

“Right. I do. Look, we can just tell Forrest you were too sick to be alone. If he gets pissed, I’ll deal with it. It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to come between—”

“You’re not. I should have told him, but I didn’t, so I’ll handle the fallout. I have to go.”

“Okay.” Michael didn’t look comforted, but he didn’t fight. “See you later. I might pick up a half day at work, too. Not pushing myself,” he pre-empted.

Alex was now running too late to argue, so he had to leave it there, with just a text to Max at a red light: Michael going to work today. Call me if anything happens.

He didn’t hear from Max all day, and when he checked his phone after work, he had only a couple brief messages from Forrest confirming he made it to Denver and made it onto his connecting flight.

Made it to ABQ alright? He texted, and by the time he got home, he had a response.

 Yeah. Super tired. Maybe I should have asked you after all…I’m stuck in the car with Wyatt’s music, ugh.

Michael’s car wasn’t in the driveway like Alex might have expected if he’d gotten a ride to Sanders’s and come back, but Alex took a deep breath and postponed spiraling over anything until he confirmed whether or not Michael was here. Shouldering his bag and locking his car, he made his way inside, responding with his other hand. Ugh indeed. I hope you brought the good headphones for blocking it—and him—out.

 You know it, babe.

“Michael?” he called.

“In the den,” Michael replied.

There, Alex found him stretched out on the couch, ankles crossed and propped up on the arm so Buffy could sleep beneath them, a book in his hands that he set aside as Alex entered the room.

“How was your—what the fuck?”

Buffy’s head perked up at Alex’s voice, and she gave him a baleful look.

Michael grimaced. “Don’t freak out—”

“What the hell happened?”

In two strides, Alex crossed the space between them and grabbed Michael’s hand to examine it. He sported thick white gauze wrapped around his palm, and Alex had to fight down a scream of pure frustration.

“I just burned myself at work. It’s not as bad as it looks—Max just went overboard dressing it since I wouldn’t let him heal it.”

Alex scowled. Traitor.

“Have you had Kyle look at it? Why didn’t you let Max heal it? Why—”

“Alex! It’s fine. I’m fine.”

He sat up so their eyes were closer to level; Michael’s eyes were golden and earnest and exasperated and Forrest might already be back in Roswell and Alex couldn’t stand it.

Michael continued, “I’m not stressing Max’s heart or wasting Kyle’s time with something like this. Little injuries are common in the shop. I really am gonna be fine. You need to breathe.”

Following that advice, Alex closed his eyes, breathed in and counted, breathed out and counted. Of course something as small as a minor burn wouldn’t register to Michael. Alex had held those hands, felt them on his body, counted every tiny white scar and callous, claimed and cherished them when one was warped with pain and grief. This little injury was normal, routine, not anything to protect him from, not any proof of Alex’s failure. He needed to calm down.

“Your car isn’t here,” he said, changing the subject off of such heavy things.

“Yeah, Max picked me up and dropped me off. I could have driven, but you’re not the only person being overprotective right now.”

Hm. Maybe Max wasn’t such a traitor after all.

“And is Sanders—"

He cut off at the rattle of the doorknob. Buffy echoed the sound with a bark, and instinct had Alex reaching for his gun; he rotated himself to be between Michael and the door, even as Michael hissed in displeasure. But he couldn’t defend himself like this, without his powers, so Alex wasn’t taking any chances.

“Alex, hey, babe, you left the door unlocked!”

Oh. Alex dropped his head down and took his hand off his gun, running through his hair instead. Right.

“Hey, Forrest,” he called back, checking his phone as he spoke. No missed calls or messages. He caught Michael’s eye and grimaced as Buffy clambered off the couch and loped towards Forrest’s voice.

“Everything okay? It’s not like you to…”

Forrest froze in the mouth of the hallway, locking eyes with Michael on the couch, who in turn flicked his eyes to Alex like he had the answers to the awkward situation that just landed in their laps.

“Michael! This is unexpected. I didn’t realize you guys hung out,” Forrest said with impressively convincing but still false cheer. He tilted his head and shot Alex a questioning look, too, and defensiveness rose hackles in Alex’s head.

“He’s been sick, had a pretty bad fever a few nights in a row, so I told him to come over, since he lives alone and all,” Alex lied brusquely.

“Ah. Well. I hope you’re feeling better?”

“I think I’m gonna go chill outside,” Michael said, leaping up with a vigor he clearly didn’t possess at the moment, wobbling dangerously and, after righting himself, staggering toward the door.

Thank god his car wasn’t here so he could only get so far if he decided to take off.

As long as he didn’t suddenly rediscover the ability to teleport that almost killed him, that was.

“He’s been here for how long?” Forrest asked as soon as they were alone, voice still false and light. His eyes were lined and exhausted from travel.

Alex shrugged and, inclining his head to suggest Forrest follow him, he headed to the bedroom to put his gun in its safe. Buffy watched them go.

“A few days,” Alex said as they walked. “Like I said—he was sick, and he lives alone. Sorry, I should have warned you.”

“Oh. Well, I, uh. That’s okay, I guess. I didn’t know the two of you were that close?”

The safe beeped, and Alex stowed his firearm and closed it, spun the dial, and waited for the whir of the electronic lock engaging too. Then he turned to face Forrest and said, “We’re friends. We spend time together sometimes. You know, Thursdays?”

“Every Thursday.” Forrest’s voice was flat again. “Do you guys only hang out on Thursdays, or…?”

“We have different schedules, so it’s mostly Thursdays, but not always. Hell, Forrest, he was there when the two of us met, I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“That was months ago, and I’ve barely heard you mention him since we started dating, only seen him once, when we went to the bar. Remind me who comes to those little get togethers again? Or is it just you and Michael.”

“It depends on the week,” Alex said, growing increasingly defensive. His back was to the wall; he didn’t have much room to maneuver. His ears were ringing slightly. “But there are usually—we have the same entire friend group, hell, I invited you to a couple Thursdays, and you always said no! But, yeah, Michael hosts them, we hung out one on one a few fucking times, should I start giving you a numbered list of my known associates, or what? Fucking hell, Forrest.”

“Okay, okay, God. No, I don’t care who you see, I just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know, you’re exes! You’re—you’re almost more than that, even; I may not know the whole story, but you have unfinished business or whatever! I know your song was about him. So the idea of you two spending a ton of time together makes me insecure. And I know you can handle yourself, but I worry, with Guerin being—"

Alex drew back at that. “Guerin being what? He’s not dangerous just because he doesn’t meet your perfect standards, holy shit, Forrest.”

His own voice whispered wasting his life nastily in his ear, but he shoved it down. That was guilt for another time; right now his energy was better spent defending Michael from whatever the fuck accusation Forrest was trying to point his way.

“Right, right, I know.” Forrest ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Sorry, it just slipped out.”

“That doesn’t really make it better,” Alex snapped back.

Forrest sighed heavily. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, I was just really taken aback seeing him here after being gone—and you being so distant. Can you see how that might feel? Even though I trust you?”

Alex took a deep, cool breath. Yes, he could see it. He’d sat with the guilt and anxiety about it for days, even as he’d been unable to let go of Michael in his grasp. He could at least be gentle about Forrest’s reaction now. He reached out and took his hand and said, gently:

“Michael and I used to date, yes. But we’re friends now, and nothing else.”

But no matter how sincere he tried to be, Forrest’s face told him something in there was hollow. Alex’s stomach twisted.

Even if, the thought intruded, even if he did decide to cheat, he wouldn’t put Michael through all the hiding and sneaking and secret-keeping it would take, wouldn’t do that to him. Again. He shoved that thought away with force, before it could get its claws in him, as nauseous with stress as he already was.

A brief smile flickered across Forrest’s face. “Okay. Thank you. I trust you, okay? I do. I’m sorry for getting all controlling.”

He leaned up, and Alex kissed him lightly.

“Hey, now that Michael’s gone…” Forrest raised an eyebrow and tugged Alex’s hand lightly in the direction of the bed. “I was hoping we could have a date night in? Celebrate my homecoming? As long as you don’t have any plans, that is, I missed you and wanted to do something a little spontaneous…”

“Hold on, he stepped outside to let us talk, he didn’t leave leave. He’s staying until he’s out of the woods with whatever he’s got.”

The glitter that had sprung up in Forrest’s eyes winked out again. “He looked fine to me.”

“He almost passed out when he stood up! I’m not leaving him by himself while he’s sick. That doesn’t mean we can’t still go out—”

“And what, I’ll have you home by ten with a nice chaste kiss on the doorstep? Or we can go back to my place, where Wyatt will be playing Xbox in the den.”

This was the sharpest Forrest had ever spoken to Alex, and his mind spun blank tape trying to come up with the appropriate reaction. Where was this coming from? Had Alex crossed such a line, gone so far that Forrest wouldn’t trust him at all? What about his reaction to Michael bled so far out of the boundaries he tried to draw, betrayed his heart so badly with no regard for what he knew he should want? What was wrong with him?

Forrest continued, just as piercing, “Or would we still come back here? Because I figured that’d be off the table, since you’ve gotten pissed any time I even hinted we might do anything with someone else within restraining order distance, but I’m more than happy to fuck with Guerin in the next room.”

Shock dropped Alex’s jaw at that one. “What the hell is your problem tonight? If this is how insecurity looks on you, maybe I don’t want to fuck tonight anyway. Maybe we should go out some other night.”

“I just don’t get why he has to be here, and not at his sister’s! Or hell, his girlfriend’s? Does she know he’s here?”

Utterly out of patience, guilt firmly faded in the face of budding fury, Alex snapped back, “Forrest, you are more social than this dumpy town knows what to do with. You’re involved in like four events every weekend, half of them at the Wild Pony, you cannot tell me you didn’t get that Maria and Michael broke up the first three times someone told you.”

“So his new girlfriend’s, whatever.”

“What, just because he’s bi, he has to jump right into—”

“That’s not what this is about, that’s not fair, Alex!”

“Okay! Fine. But what is it about? Because…”

Alex’s heart pounded harder as he realized what had his anxiety rising so fast and thick in his throat. Forrest set the tone and pace of their relationship, even if he set it as slow as he thought Alex needed, and Alex let him because Forrest was the one with dating experience, the one who knew how these things were supposed to work. But…

Swallowing hard, Alex said, “Because if this is you saying I’m choosing Michael over you—if you’re trying to tell me I can’t be friends with my ex, that’s a hard line for me. That’s not your call. I’ve never hidden how important Michael is to me from you, and it’s not on me if you elected not to notice. You’re not turning this on me when he needs my help.”

Forrest scowled and raked his fingers through his hair. “Never, huh? ‘It was a long time ago’ ring a bell to you? Never mind. Whatever. Just…you’re too nice, Alex. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of by a deadbeat ex or friend or whatever he is.”

“Deadbeat?” Alex whisper-shrieked. “I just told you he’s my friend, and you, what, you have to tear him down because of that? The only goddamn thing you know about him is what he has the audacity to Google next to you when you’re writing your oh-so-important Nazi fanfic, so maybe hold off on the judgment.”

Forrest’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline as Alex spoke, and by the time Alex was done he was storming out of the bedroom, Alex on his heels. “Okay, sure. Yeah, that’s it, I’m just jealous of the guy who hangs around you begging for scraps because you two used to get your dicks wet and he can’t move on like you did. Whatever. That’s none of my business, right. I do have eyes, Alex. I see what’s going on. But I’ll see you around some other time, once you’re over the power trip he gives you.”

“Forrest, wait. Forrest!”

“I’ll see you around, Alex. Buffy, come on, girl,” he called with a whistle, barely stopping to get her leash on before storming out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

And then Alex was alone in the entryway, watching Forrest leave through the window, stalking right past Michael huddled in a deck chair without a glance, and Alex’s jaw clenched harder when Forrest slammed his car door shut too and sped away.

Fuck. Fuck him. This wasn’t their first fight by any means, but the part of Alex that suspected he was too fucked up for an easy, normal relationship said maybe it was their last.

Would that be so bad? Would Alex actually miss Forrest, or would he miss the kind of relationship Forrest gave him, the kind that felt like what he should want, the kind that made him happier than loneliness did all the time except when it didn’t?

Okay, but now wasn’t the time to think thoughts like that, not in the moment, not so immediately, with hurt and anger still pumping red inside him. Especially not when the fault was largely Alex’s fault for not giving him warning in advance. Now was the time for deep breaths and not throwing things against the wall, no matter how much he might want to.

And as the fury left him, bit by bit, as his pulse slowed and his muscles relaxed and the clock again ticked louder than his breathing, it left this behind:

Was Forrest right?

Was he taking advantage of Michael? No. His first instinct was no. Michael came to him when he was in need—something Alex still wasn’t letting himself stop to process.

But the thing Forrest said about power…

If he searched himself, if he had to put it in such terms: Michael did make Alex feel powerful. He always had. From the very first day, when Alex offered the only thing he had—the rebellious kindness he practiced mostly because his father wanted to stamp it out—and Michael took it, took it shy and suspicious, but then grew towards him like a sunflower. That made him feel powerful. And it would be dishonest to say he didn’t feel powerful every time he came and went and no matter what Michael was still there waiting when he returned, no matter how much, yeah, Michael made him feel weak, too, knew just the right words to say to cut the deepest.

Control was a commodity. Alex starved for it his entire life and gorged himself when it was available, and only now was he in a place where he could begin on the work of balancing himself out. Michael told him once that he never said no to him—how able was Alex to judge when they crossed such old, familiar lines worn away by the traffic they’d seen over the past eleven years? How much could Michael be trusted to see those lines either, or to tell him if they were crossed instead of just taking it?

They needed to talk. They always needed to talk. It never got any easier. And what the hell was all the talking for, if not…that thing Forrest was worrying about? Not cheating, no, but was there still some part of him that still dreamed his old dream of what peace looked like, Michael in the early morning, and birdsong after rain, and nowhere to be but here?

A knock hesitated on the edge of Alex’s hearing, then came again, a little firmer, and anxiety propelled Alex down the foyer to answer it. Michael was still out there—something could have happened to him—or he could have left—Alex would call Isobel in to look for him, that was the backup plan, but—

Luckily, his front hall wasn’t long enough for him to truly get into a spiral; and even luckier, it was Michael at the door. Alex’s shoulders slumped with relief.

“You didn’t have to knock,” he said, stepping aside to let Michael back in.

Michael shrugged. “Wasn’t sure if you’d locked up in case Long decided to come back uninvited.”

With a snort, Alex closed the door and double checked both locks this time around. It really wasn’t like him to leave anything unlocked, but he’d pencil that freakout in for later.

That reminded him, though. “Speaking of locking up, here.” He opened a drawer in the little hall table and tossed Michael a spare key. “If you’re going to be going into work, or even just going out to hang out with Max and Isobel or Maria or someone.”

Michael caught it, but then he just stared at it like it was a shaken can of soda about to pop. “I, uh, kind of figured I’d be getting out of your hair.”

No! Alex wanted to shout, his already frayed nerves colliding with the visceral thought of Max’s healing failing or reversing somehow and Michael dying alone on the floor of his trailer. But he kept his voice level when he spoke, “I thought we talked about this.”

“We did! But I thought, with Forrest—”

“He can get pissed at me all he wants. The important thing is that we don’t know what Jones might try next, and we don’t know how what he did to you works, and as long as your powers aren’t back to normal…”

“I don’t want to—”

Heart rabbiting in his chest, Alex burst out, “Look, I get that you don’t want to be here, but my first priority is your safety, and—!”

“Of course I want to be here!” Michael interrupted. His eyes were wide and wild, hair a halo around his face.

“You—”

Both of them were panting like they’d run for miles, done anything but the running away and around each other they’d done their whole lives. The setting sun lined Michael in gold, slanted across the floor and the walls and got in Alex’s eyes but left the rest of him untouched.

Alex licked his lips and tried to speak again. “You don’t want to leave?”

Raking his hand through his curls, Michael replied, “Of course I don’t. I never want to leave. I want…” He spread his arms wide in a helpless gesture. “I don’t even know. Everything I’ve always wanted! But before anything else, I just want you to be happy. I’d never forgive myself if I destroyed your life even more than I already have.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex demanded. “Destroy my life? I’m the one who put you in my father’s path—I’m the one who—”

“No, Alex.”

He stepped forward like he might reach out. Alex wanted him to, but. What was he allowed to want? How had they gotten here, to this point, again or for the first time, and Alex still didn’t know the answer?

“That’s ancient history,” Michael said gently. “You could never destroy anything, you’re…”

Alex let out a harsh laugh. “Have you met me?”

“Alex.”

“I literally went into the business of destroying things and chose it four times since, even after it destroyed a part of myself.”

Furious tears blurred his vision, blurred Michael, and it only made him angrier and more desperate. What didn’t he understand?

“Yeah, and I think that sucks!” Michael said, chest rising and falling like it might if he was laughing, but the sound he made was more like hailstones, heavier and colder than rain. “But I—I’ve made my own sucky choices, too, I’m not letting you take credit for them just so you can bury yourself with them.”

“You were the one who started talking about destruction. I’m not letting you do that either,” Alex accused. “What could you possibly be destroying except yourself? I’m the one keeping you here.”

“Really? Like I didn’t just punch a hole through your relationship just by hangin’ around? I’m no good and you know that, Alex, you should—”

His heart fluttered so fast he had to clear his throat before he could talk.

“Should just walked out that door. And he took his dog,” he said breathlessly.

A beat of silence followed. Then, the corner of Michael’s mouth twitched—Alex’s eyes dropped to watch it—and he dissolved into disbelieving giggles, leaning back against the door like he needed it to hold himself up.

When he could speak again, he thumbed a tear away from the corner of his eye and said, “What are we doing here, Alex?”

“I—don’t know. I never know what I’m doing.”

“That’s not true.”

“Okay, emotionally,” Alex allowed. “Forrest wanted to date me, and he’s so normal, I thought I could, I don’t know, follow his lead and things would just slot into place. But I’m starting to think it doesn’t work that way.”

“I gotta tell you, Alex, you’ve never been great at follow the leader,” Michael said, so gently Alex almost felt it on his skin, a palm cupping his cheek.

“But I can try. I can learn new things,” he said. “So—what about your lead? What, what are we doing here?”

Michael swallowed, the apple of his throat bobbing.

“I’m as clueless as you,” he said. “And I’m not ashamed to say shit scared, either. There’s a lot of things with you and me I’ve spent a long time telling myself either won’t work out or shouldn’t. I’m scared of all the shit I’ve said before. But some of it—a lot of it stands. I wanna be good for someone. I wanna be good for you, even if I know I’ll never be perfect—”

“You don’t have to be perfect. Nobody’s perfect,” Alex breathed.

“Right. That’s what they tell me.”

The two of them balanced on the edge of a knife, barely enough oxygen between them to sustain them both without sharing. There were always two ways this could go. The paths diverged again and again and again and they turned away from the clear path so many times it made the both of them half-feral. But, inevitable, like the summer sun, like gravity and escape velocity, here they were, again, at the crossroads.

Michael swallowed again, then his lips parted, then again.

“What do you want to say, Michael?” Alex asked.

“I want to tell you that I love you. That I have for a long time.” His voice cracked. “And that, no matter what happens, I always will. But I don’t know what to do with it, after this long, and now that things have been good between us, what if we fuck it up again? What if—”

Alex’s mind whirled, with words he thought he’d never hear, with the accusations Forrest had hurled his way, about power and control and all those things that, like Michael’s heart, Alex had far to go to wield responsibly, but here was a greater truth:

Alex had never been great at talking.

He seized the front of Michael’s shirt in both fists and hauled him in for a kiss.

Michael gasped against his mouth. His lips were hot, all of him burned, blazed against Alex wherever they touched, and they touched, as Michael relaxed against him, his hands grasping Alex by the elbows and sliding up to his shoulders, the sides of his neck, holding him there as they swayed, mouths locked together. He tasted just as Alex remembered. A cascade of shudders washed down his spine and washed away every other sensation.

They kissed in the sunset sunlight, in Alex’s home in front of the front windows, and Alex buried his hands in Michael’s hair and devoured him in the open, away from any place he used to hide him, under bedsheets, in anonymous rooms, in the back of his head when he was sure he was alone. When they pulled apart, they came back together, both of them insatiable, until Alex’s lips buzzed and the ache from standing too long crept in.

Michael was wobbly too, so Alex took him by the hand and pulled him deeper inside.

“We should probably keep talking,” Michael rasped.

“We’ve got a lot of time for that. As much as we need,” Alex promised.

He knew his priorities, now. That was a promise he’d never break again.

“Forrest—”

“If he didn’t mean to break up with me when he left an hour ago, I’ll take responsibility,” Alex dismissed.

“Okay, okay.”

When Alex glanced over at Michael, he was smiling and shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just forgot how much I like a man who takes charge.”

At that, Alex had to laugh too, and the sound came out so different, light and giddy, that he surprised himself.

“Bullshit,” he said. “After all this time, you think you still have to flirt with me?”

Michael tugged him by their joined hands. They’d only made it as far as the den and they were kissing again, just long enough to get them buzzing again.

“Only ‘cause you like it,” Michael murmured against his lips. “It’s a crowd pleaser.”

“I love it,” Alex confirmed, so soft he shaped the words more than he said them, but they were loud to him—Michael’s face changed, and Alex knew they were loud enough.

#this is not the most recent chapter #but ive been delinquent with the crossposting #malex fic #my fic #michael guerin #alex manes #sorry to my forlex pals the breakup is in this chapter i hope ive done you guys justice all the same

[coochiequeens]

Just men using their authority and the legal system to silence people who tell the truth about their crimes.

By Genevieve Gluck December 2, 2023

A prominent LGBT activist and former member of Dutch Parliament has filed multiple defamation claims against his critics despite resigning amid accusations he sexually abused multiple young boys. Sidney Smeets, formerly an elected representative for the States General for the Democrats 66 (D66) party, had also come under fire for defending men involved in a pro-pedophile organization whose leaders have since been jailed for sex crimes.

On November 29, medical professional Jan B. Hommel stated that he had been notified of a legal complaint lodged against him by Smeets for a prior comment he made on social media calling the former MP a “pedophile.”

Hommel defended his use of the term, citing “testimonials from various boys, as have been frequently reported in various media,” referring to allegations of child sexual abuse made against Smeets in early 2021 which ultimately led to his decision to step down from his role in parliament.

In addition to Hommel, social commentator Sander van Dam stated that he had received a phone call from the police in regards to calling Smeets a “groomer.”

“Just received a call from the police who told me that I can soon expect a summons from the Public Prosecution Service regarding a report that Sidney Smeets has filed against me. They have time for that. What a country,” van Dam wrote.

Former Rotterdam district councilor Rick Timmer was also made to defend himself in court in December of last year for calling Smeets a ‘kleuterneuker,’ which roughly translates in English to ‘toddler-fucker.’ In March 2023, Timmer was ordered to pay a fine of €750 ($816).

Smeets first resigned from his position representing D66 in April of 2021 following allegations that he had been sexually inappropriate with “dozens” of boys.

A social media post which kicked off the controversy was made by a 17-year-old claiming to be speaking up on behalf of the victims. He stated that Smeets would “often reach out to underage boys” on X (formerly Twitter), and said that he had known “dozens of boys” who had been approached by him in a sexual capacity. The teen further lamented the fact that Smeets, who he called a “pedo,” was representing “LGBTI rights” in a position of authority.

One of the victims told Hart van Nederland that he was 16 years old when he connected with Smeets on gay hook-up app Grindr. The boy had told Smeets that he was a minor, and the lawyer invited him to to his home. “He was quite direct and soon started kissing me and leading my head to his dick,” he told the newspaper. “I sucked him and I was outside again soon.”

The unnamed victim said that Smeets also shared photos of underage boys with him, and told the teen that it was his “worst fantasy” to have sex with someone under the age of 16. According to the victim, Smeets inquired as to whether he knew anyone “under 16” that the teen “trusts.”

Another victim who spoke to the press described a similar pattern: he met Smeets through Grindr, and accepted the invitation to his home on multiple occasions, where Smeets would show him pornography to “get [him] in the mood.” On one occasion the boy, then 16, says he was pressured into performing sexual acts.

“Several people state that they have experienced contact with me as undesirable… I was very shocked about that, because it was never my intention,” Smeets said in a statement publicly announcing his resignation in April 2021. He did not deny the allegations, but said he was stepping down “to prevent the prestige of the House and the interest of the party from being harmed.”

In addition to being accused of grooming and child sexual abuse, Smeets has a history of defending a notorious pro-pedophile activist group. In 2014, Smeets was one of several signatories to a public appeal requesting that Vereniging MARTIJN be permitted to continue their pro-pedophilia advocacy. However, in April that year the Supreme Court banned the organization.

Smeets also spoke in defense of the group’s leader, Marthijn Uittenbogaard, in 2021. Uittenbogaard was charged with a criminal offense after he was found to be disregarding court orders by continuing Vereniging MARTIJN despite its official annulment. Smeets argued that Uittenbogaard was distributing pro-pedophilia materials on his own behalf as an individual rather than as a representative of the organization.

In 2022, Uittenbogaard and associate Norbert de Jonge were handed brief prison sentences for continuing the “activities of the banned association Martijn” by placing publications on various websites and making statements in favor of “pedosexuality” via a mailing list and on X (formerly Twitter). While released on appeal of his six-month prison sentence, Uittenbogaard fled the Netherlands.

Both Uittenbogaard and and his husband Lesley Luijs were detained in Ecuador, where they had been luring children to their hotel in order to sexually abuse them. The men were sentenced to ten years in prison by Ecuadorian authorities earlier this year.

The disgraced former MP additionally acted as a legal representative for a prominent member of Vereniging MARTIJN in 2020. Nelson Maatman was arrested in February that year on charges related to the possession of child pornography. According to the Public Prosecution Service, more than 10,000 images depicting minors in a sexual context were found on Maatman’s devices.

“You can make moral judgements about that, but you have to wonder whether it is child pornography. The Public Prosecution Service says so, but it is clear that this man was not looking for child pornography,” said Smeets in defense of Maatman.

At the time, critics on social media noted that Smeets had been interacting with Maatman on Facebook, where he had been “liking” his posts.

Maatman would later be detained in Mexico after allegedly attempting to arrange for the purchase of a child. Maatman was arrested in Mexico City on June 5, after an anonymous tip was handed to the Mexican prosecutor’s office indicating that he intended to purchase an adolescent and sell child sexual exploitation material.

Upon arrest, police found Maatman in possession of 4 terabytes (4000GB) of child sexual abuse material across a number of external storage devices. Maatman also had photos of children in his clothing pocket, a weapon, and drugs.

The party for which Smeets was previously a representative, D66, actively promotes the concept of “gender identity” and was involved in drafting a proposed sex self-identification legislation in May 2021.

The proposal would allow teenagers, beginning from 16 years old, to change the sex marker on their birth certificate. On social media, Smeets has repeatedly stated his support for gender identity ideology, by posting photos of the transgender pride flag, for instance, or sharing videos of clownfish.

At the time, critics on social media noted that Smeets had been interacting with Maatman on Facebook, where he had been “liking” his posts.

Maatman would later be detained in Mexico after allegedly attempting to arrange for the purchase of a child. Maatman was arrested in Mexico City on June 5, after an anonymous tip was handed to the Mexican prosecutor’s office indicating that he intended to purchase an adolescent and sell child sexual exploitation material.

Upon arrest, police found Maatman in possession of 4 terabytes (4000GB) of child sexual abuse material across a number of external storage devices. Maatman also had photos of children in his clothing pocket, a weapon, and drugs.

The party for which Smeets was previously a representative, D66, actively promotes the concept of “gender identity” and was involved in drafting a proposed sex self-identification legislation in May 2021.

The proposal would allow teenagers, beginning from 16 years old, to change the sex marker on their birth certificate. On social media, Smeets has repeatedly stated his support for gender identity ideology, by posting photos of the transgender pride flag, for instance, or sharing videos of clownfish.

Smeets has also expressed derision at women who oppose gender identity ideology, branding them “evil” and “sickening” TERFs, an acronym meaning “Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminists,” used in an attempt to discredit opponents or to advocate for violence against them.

In June, Smeets showed his support for a controversial animated video released by Oxfam designed to celebrate Pride month. The promotional video appeared to depict a version of renowned author JK Rowling, with red eyes and a snarl, wearing a badge that read “TERF.”

He also hurled the term at outspoken Dutch women’s rights advocate Lydia Daniel, who has become a target for trans activists and is awaiting confirmation of whether she will face charges in response to a hate speech report filed against her by a trans-identified male for stating “a woman is an adult human female.” Daniel attracted Smeet’s ire after she protested during a public meeting of the Dutch Democratic Party (D66) in May and challenged the party’s leader, Sigrid Kaag, on whether she was aware that “women’s rights are being destroyed.”

Earlier this year, D66 came under fire after it was discovered that the official website for the Young Democrats, the “independent” youth wing of the political group, had published statements sympathetic to pedophilia which endorsed the production of “virtual child pornography,” and even the teaching of pedophilia as a sexuality in schools.

#Dutch Parliament #Sidney Smeets #States General for the Democrats 66 (D66) party #Public Prosecution Service #kleuterneuker #Silencing survivors of abuse #Abusive men hate women who speak up to protect women and children

[scp-sanderssides-au]

Welcome to the Foundation: Addendum 1

Read it on ao3

Word Count: 2,166

Rating: T

Genre: Hurt/comfort (I guess? I honestly have no idea)

Ships: None

Warnings: Kidnapping, drugging, cursing

Summary: Thomas Sanders is just a normal dude with a normal life. It’s not his fault that the different aspects of his personality are personified and can manifest themselves into existence. However, he’s in for a very rude awakening when he notices a large, white van parked outside his door...

It was an unusually cold morning in the state of Florida. Thomas took in a big, deep breath of the crisp air as he walked down the street, coffee in one hand, hot chocolate in the other. He usually put his earbuds in, but this morning he decided to enjoy the nice, serene sounds of nature and the city.

The walk to the park from the coffee shop was only a few minutes. He went in deep, away from the main road and near the center of the grounds. There was a lone bench sitting under an oak tree, sheltered from the sun with shade. He took a seat, breathing in the fresh air around him.

The park was rarely visited, and the few passersby that were there were too busy with their own business to pay attention to him. This was why it was the perfect spot for summoning his sides. He knew it was dangerous to do it in public, but the others deserved to be able to be out and about in the world as much as he did.

He concentrated, and sure enough, Patton was suddenly sitting next to him. “Hey kiddo!” He exclaimed, a big smile on his face.

“Hey Patton.” Thomas smiled back, handing him the hot chocolate. They cheered with their drinks, taking cautious sips as to avoid their tongues getting burned.

They turned their heads towards each other, eyes meeting. Thomas let out a giggle as he saw Patton’s upper lip soaked in hot chocolate. “You’ve got a little chocolate mustache going on there, Patton.”

“Oh! Oh, sorry kiddo!” Patton laughed back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then they started their weekly talk, about anything and nothing, really. They could totally do this within the confines of the mind palace, but Patton loved being in the physical world. He loved the sights and the smells, and he loved the feel and taste of clothes and food. Being in a space where no one was likely to see them couldn’t hurt, right?

Patton gulped down his hot chocolate, then sucked in a deep breath as he leaned back on the bench, staring at the sky with a grin on his face.

“Any reason you’re so chipper today?” Thomas asked, returning that grin. Patton’s happiness was so contagious, you couldn’t help but smile when he did.

“I don’t know, kiddo!” He responded, taking a look at Thomas, then back to the sky. “It’s just, isn’t life beautiful?”

“Yeah Patton, it sure is.” Thomas gazed up at the clouds with him. They stayed like that for a while, just watching the clouds roll on by with the breeze. “Hey, we probably should get back soon, still have to do laundry,” Thomas sighed.

“Oh, oh right! Laundry,” Patton smiled bittersweetly, “Well, it was great talking with you Thomas.”

Thomas almost rolled his eyes playfully, but stopped himself. He could hear Patton all the time in his head anyway, it’s not like they never spoke to each other. But Patton loved to actually be there with him physically, and who was he to deny that?

“It was great talking with you too,” He smiled. They hugged, Patton squeezing tight. Then Patton gave one last smile before sinking through the floor and appearing back in Thomas’ mind.

Thomas got up from the bench, walking over to a trash can and throwing away their cups. But something happened, a slight rustle in the bushes. Whatever it was, it set Virgil off. He could feel his presence getting clearer in his mind.

You doing okay, Virge? He asked mentally. There was a pause. I’m fine, Virgil responded.

Thomas continued on his way, walking back to his car and driving home to do chores. But as he got out of the car he couldn’t help but notice a large, white van, with a logo for a plumbing company on it. It was inconspicuous enough, but just like at the park, it put Virgil on edge.

I don’t, I don’t like that, Virgil muttered, breathing getting heavy. 

Please, Virgil, it’s a plumber! Roman laughed, What are they gonna do, break into the house with plungers?

It’s very unlikely that would happen, Roman, Logan chimed in.

I, I know, I was being sarcastic.

Logan sighed, Sarcastic or not, Roman’s right, Virgil. They’re not even on our side of the street. It’s going to be okay.

Another pause. Virgil took a breath, Okay.

Thomas proceeded to go into the house mostly unbothered, able to do his housework with ease. Then he took some time for himself to relax and watch cartoons, having a bowl of mac and cheese for dinner.

But Virgil’s presence stayed in the front of his head. As he turned all the lights off in the house that night, he couldn’t help but peak through the blinds of the front window.

The van was still there.

His own breath started to get labored. Virgil’s influence almost got to the point where it was pounding in his head, but Logan started talking, Virgil, look at me, you need to breathe.

I don’t, I don’t know, Virgil muttered, starting to close in on himself.

Virgil, there’s probably a reasonable explanation for this, they may have gotten multiple calls for the same street. It’s going to be okay.

You don’t know that, Virgil sneered, glaring at Logan.

Logan sighed, No, no I don’t know that. But I do know that no matter what, we’re still going to be here. You’re not going to be alone.

There was silence for a few seconds. Virgil, Thomas, do you need to do some breathing exercises with me?

No, no, I think we’re fine, Thomas said, grounding himself. He stood up straight, then went up the stairs to his bedroom, settling in for the night. But no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t get to sleep as Virgil’s breathing clouded his mind.

---------------------------------------------------

The next day was a little warmer than the last. Thomas tried to appreciate it, but he was still so groggy from last night’s lack of sleep. It especially didn’t help that when he got to his car, the van was still parked in the same exact spot it was yesterday.

Now everyone was unsettled, but especially Virgil. Thomas couldn’t see it, but he was getting very close to sinking to the floor of the mind palace and hugging his knees to his chest.

Okay, this is indeed, disconcerting, Logan stated, keeping steady.

W-What do we do? Patton asked, eyes wide.

Logan stood tall, taking a breath, If it’s still here by the time we get back, we will go into the house and talk about it. 

There was a silence, everyone nodding in agreement except Virgil, who had started shaking.

Patton looked at him, Virgil, are you-

I’m fine! He snapped, voice getting deeper. Everything in his mind stood still. Thomas, Logan spoke up, I think we should continue about our day for now.

Thomas agreed, getting into his car and driving off to run errands, stopping off at Joan’s for a while. The visit was pleasant, but Joan could tell something was off. “You okay, Thomas?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.” Thomas put on a fake smile, faintly feeling Janus’ presence in the back of his mind. He didn’t need to get Joan mixed up in all this.

Sure enough, by the time he got home later in the day, the van had remained in its spot. He started to feel nauseous as the pounding in his head grew. We need to get inside, now, Logan commanded.

Thomas hurriedly got out of the car and rushed into the house, standing still in the middle of his living room. Everyone burst out of his head all at once, the pressure relieving itself.

“Okay, we need to think about this rationally,” Logan straightened his posture as he tried to remain calm.

“Rationally, are you serious?! That van hasn’t moved since yesterday morning, and no one has moved in or out since we’ve been here. I seriously doubt that it takes a plumbing company two days to fix a pipe. We’re obviously being spied on!” Virgil’s voice continued to raise.

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be us that’s the target of this stakeout,” Logan crossed his arms, looking at him.

“But it’s still a stakeout! Something’s going on!”

“If you’re so worried about it, then why don’t we call the police?” Roman shrugged.

“We currently don’t have enough evidence to suggest there’s any foul play going on here. I suppose if we do call the police, and these people are good at whatever they’re doing, they’ll keep up this ruse and there would be no basis for them to be arrested, if they are indeed doing something.”

“Well, why don’t we just, go up and ask them?” Patton suggested. They all turned to his direction. Virgil furrowed his brows angrily. “Are you crazy?!”

That’s when the fighting broke out. Suddenly they were all talking over each other, trying to get their word in before the others did. Thomas sighed, screwing his eyes shut as he held his head in his hands.

There were a few more seconds of shouting, then the hair on the back of Virgil’s neck stood on end. He glanced behind him in his spot on the stairs. It took a second of scanning around, but soon he laid his eyes on a tiny black sphere. 

His eyes narrowed as he bent down to pick it up, the thing barely fitting between his fingers. “Logan, Logan what is this?”

The others leaned in closer to Virgil to get a look at the device. He took it from Virgil’s hand, examining it himself. He sucked in a breath, “It’s a camera.”

There was a moment of silence before full panic set it. It sounded like everyone was screaming at once. “I FUCKING TOLD YOU!” Virgil screeched, his anxious voice creeping out of his throat.

“WHAT DO WE DO!?” Patton cried.

“STEP ON IT!” Roman pointed to Logan.

Virgil slapped the sphere out of Logan’s hand and stomped on it as hard as he could, soon cracking it in two, its wires zapping and crackling.

There was another pause as everyone took a second to catch their breath. Logan spoke up, “Okay, if there’s one, there has to be more. Check all ceiling corners, floor corners, cabinets, countertops, cushions, anywhere where they could be easily hidden.”

They got to work, splitting up in the living room, a few going to the kitchen. They had indeed found a few in the ceiling, and Thomas was in the middle of looking in between the couch cushions when there was a clicking noise at the front door. They were coming.

Thomas was already up the stairs when the door was kicked in, everyone back in the mind palace. No one’s voice was heard as he rushed into his bedroom and locked the door behind him, stepping back a few steps before hurrying into the closet.

He hoped the darkness would give him some room to think, but all he could focus on was trying to hear what was going on downstairs. 

Patton tried to speak up, but Virgil interrupted him. Shut the fuck up! He spat, not out of malice but out of fear. Everyone stood still after that. Thomas’ heartbeat went faster as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and he lost control of his breathing as his bedroom door was kicked in too.

Roman unsheathed his sword, ready to try to summon himself, but stopped at the others’ sounds of protest. Roman, please don’t! Patton held out his arms to try to stop him.

What, Patton?! I’m trying to do my job! I’m supposed to be protecting Thomas! I’m the hero! 

You’re no more of a ‘hero’ then the rest of us! Virgil yelled, using air quotes. Everyone shut up! We’re staying here.

There was a long moment of silence, everyone holding their breath. Are they gone? Patton whispered.

No, no they’re still here, I can feel it, Virgil answered, barely being able to breathe. Then Thomas smelled something coming from the bottom of the door. He looked down, and somehow he knew it was going to knock him out.

Panic set in, and in a split second all of them were summoned at once, all squished together in his tiny closet. The noise of all four bodies banging against the walls was way too loud.

With every breath he took, even the small ones, the drug sunk into his lungs deeper, a heavy feeling starting to coarse through his body. 

“Thomas, I don’t feel so good,” Patton breathed, eyes rolling to the back of his head before everyone was knocked out cold, retreating back to the mind palace. There were a few more precious seconds of Thomas trying to keep his consciousness afloat, but it was all in vain as he sunk deep into the blackness.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #thomas sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #scp #scp foundation #scp fanfiction #scp au #kidnapping tw #tw kidnapping #drugging tw #tw drugging #please let me know if i need to add any tags #cursing tw #tw cursing

[fueradeltiempo]

becoming a man soon - sander van noort, 2020

[snowdice]

Birthday Wishes (Haunted Van AU)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Logan, 

Characters: Patton, Logan, Roman

Summary: Patton gives Logan a birthday gift as soon as he is allowed.

Notes: This is set in the @haunted-van-au before the story in the ask blog takes place.

Patton is selectively mute, though a bit more talkative here than usual since they're (mostly) alone and he's excited.

The prompt was “ Hi! For your Grumpy Affectionate prompts: either 11 with Logan&Patton or 14 with Janus/Patton, choice is yours!” from the GRUMPY AFFECTIONATE STARTERS list. I chose 11. “I crave your affection, but I crave your silence even more– shut up.” Logan & Patton, but had to change a bit about the wording.

“Logan,” Patton’s quiet voice said. Logan felt a poke to his cheek. Logan kept his eyes closed, hoping against hope that Patton would relent. Instead, he was poked once again in the face. “Promised. Please.” Why had Logan ever let this little gremlin into his heart? He wondered before blinking open his tired eyes.

“When I said tomorrow, the ‘in the morning’ was implied,” Logan groused.

Patton pointed to a clock that said 12:03am.

“You know what I meant,” Logan said.

Patton pouted at him.

Logan sighed. “Fine. Bring it here.”

Patton clapped his hands happily and hopped off their bed as Logan slowly sat up. Roman grumbled from beside them, still asleep and curled around a pillow. Logan was tempted to wake him up and make him suffer with him but chose to be merciful and let him sleep. Patton could be heard moving under the bed. One of the kids on the bed adjacent to them made a grumbling sound and turned over.

After a few seconds, Patton popped back up with his prize. He was practically vibrating as he handed it to logan. It was… sticky, Logan noticed with a wince, unsure of the source of the stickiness because it was dark. He still brought it closer and laid it in his lap. He leaned over and grabbed his phone from next to his pillow so he could see what Patton was giving him.

It was a box, an old lunch box actually that seemed to have been decorated by hand. Logan winced as a bit of glitter that had been glued to it came off in his hand. That would be all over their sheets forever.

Patton tapped it insistently and Logan diligently unsnapped the clasp on the lunchbox, spilling more glitter into his lap. He wasn’t sure at first what was in the lunch box. It was by all appearances just a small black box. Logan picked it up curiously, shinning the light from his phone on it. He found that the top part of the box slid and as soon as he pushed it up, he realized what it was.

“Oh,” Logan said softly. It was a calculator, a graphing calculator. It appeared to be a very old model, likely not one sold anymore in stores. He was not sure how Patton had acquired it. Perhaps he’d managed to convince a teacher to let him take one from an old classroom set, or he’d bought it off someone for cheap. Yet, despite its age, it powered on under his fingertips and the display seemed to work perfectly fine. It… it was not the suggested calculator his teacher wanted them to use in class, but he imagined it had most of the same functions. Logan was speechless for a few long seconds. “Thank you, Patton.”

Patton made grabby hands for it, clearly indicating that there was something more. Logan handed it to him, and he slid off the cover completely, flipping it around. The instructions that would typically be there no longer were, likely haven been lost long ago. In their place was a slip of paper with a heart and Patton’s messy scrawl that said. ‘Happy birthday. I love you!’

“Thank you, Pat,” Logan said, but Patton held up a finger. He then took said finger and pushed what appeared to be a little button.

“Happy birthday, Logan. I love you honey bunches and oats!” what appeared to be a tapped in sound box taken from a recordable greeting card said in Patton’s voice.

“Oh,” Logan said softly, more moved than he could describe. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Patton. It’s perfect.”

Patton wiggled a bit and then pressed the button again to make it talk again.

“Yes,” Logan said. “I love you too.”

He pressed it again.

“I… yes.”

And again. Roman started to stir. And again. A couple people near them made sounds of protest.

“Patton, please.”

He clearly understood exactly what he was doing and was enjoying it greatly. He pushed it again. Logan jerked forward and he tried to roll to the side to keep the calculator away from him, but Patton had miscalculated. Logan wasn’t going for the calculator. His arms closed around Patton’s waist like a vise and pulled him back into bed. Roman did awake then, groggily sitting up and staring at them.

“Why?” he croaked.

Patton pressed the button again in answer. Logan snatched the calculator from him.

“Right,” Roman said. “Yeah, yeah, happy birthday nerd, or whatever. I’m going back to sleep and you’ll get my present when after the sun rises.”

Patton reached for the calculator, but Logan held it away from him. He gave up after a moment and looked up at Logan. He moved in for a hug, nuzzling his face into Logan’s chest. Logan automatically went to return the hug and Patton tried to snatch the calculator back when it came in range. “Yes, yes,” he laughed when Patton nuzzled against him again in a completely unfair bid to manipulate him into giving him back the calculator. “I crave your affection, but I crave your silence even more- I’m shutting it up for now.” He grabbed the cover and slid it back on before storing the calculator carefully back in the box. “Now, we are going back to sleep because we have to go to school tomorrow.”

Patton puffed out a disappointed breath and Logan chuckled, laying back down and pulling Patton with him. Patton let go of his ire after only a moment, yawning and snuggling against him.

“Happy birthday, Logan,” he said, his voice a lot quieter than it had been on the recording. “Love you honey bunches and oats.”

“…I love you too,” Logan breathed. Content with that, Patton willingly went back to sleep.

Check out @haunted-van-au for more!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #platonic logicality #roman sanders #not pieces fic #adriana writes #haunted van au #seven days of snowdice

[dearjiminah]

Now You’ve Got To Breathe.

AO3

It was a quiet night and Sander had come to adore those the most. Sometimes, the noise of living every day became too much and he often had to retreat into his room, but lately he’d found that comfort to be in Robbe’s bed. And tonight was another one of those nights.

Robbe had given Sander a key to the flat, smiling and eyes bright as he stated “what’s mine is yours”, and Sander found himself enamoured by the younger boy who stole his heart completely. But tonight was different. Robbe hadn’t come home when he usually did and the key burned Sander’s palm after he let himself into the flat, seeking the only comfort he desired.

He made his way to Robbe’s bed, stripping down to nothing but his underwear, and buried himself deep within the covers. Robbe’s scent was everywhere and it drove Sander crazy. The broerrrs often teased them, saying they were too co-dependant on each other, saying that they were like two halves who couldn’t be pulled apart; and Sander laughed every time, but the way his heart yearned for Robbe made him realise that the broerrrs were probably right. It should concern him how quickly Robbe had become his anchor to the world around them, but in turn, he was mostly grateful; because Robbe was his lifeline, his everlasting love that rescued him from his own loneliness. A life without Robbe wouldn’t be enough for him.

A couple of hours passed and Sander allowed himself to drift through sleep; but when he felt the feel of the bed dipping, a familiar weight settling behind him, and arms snaking around his body drawing him in, Sander finally breathed again. Lips pressed against his neck, kissing softly and mouthing at the skin just under his jaw. Sander melted into the touch and smiled, mostly to himself, but Robbe felt it anyway.

“I missed you today,” Robbe whispered and Sander leaned into the touch of fingers through his hair.

“I missed you more.”

A kiss. A pause. “Not possible.”

Robbe didn’t hesitate pushing Sander onto his back and straddling his waist, immediately seeking lips against lips, and dragging his hands down Sanders bare chest. Sander’s skin burned under Robbe’s touch and it made him ache for more; he was always so greedy, needing and wanting, like Robbe would suddenly disappear. It was a craving he couldn’t cure himself of and it was one he never wanted to.

Sander smiled against Robbe’s mouth, still pressing hard kisses to his lips, and pulled him in for more. He had often imagined what it would be like, to be loved in a way that took your breath away. And he thought he’d had that with Britt, he thought that he’d be loved enough to get by; but Sander realised that Robbe changed everything. Robbe was something different entirely. Robbe was someone that Sander didn’t mind getting his heart broken by.

He pulled away suddenly and a startled Robbe sat up, looking down at Sander, confused and concerned.

“You okay?” Robbe asked. He traced soft circles with his fingers on Sanders chest and they would pause briefly every time they crossed Sanders heart.

He just looked up at his boyfriend, making a note of all the details. The way the corners of Robbe’s mouth dimpled when he smiled and the way his hair flopped into his eyes sometimes; and those eyes, those big doe-like eyes that stared down at him like Sander had hung the moon.

He was so in love with Robbe it hurt him.

“I’m just thinking,” Sander mused, reaching out to touch Robbe’s waist, tugging lightly at the shirt that was still covering his torso. He wanted it off, he wanted to feel Robbe’s skin under his palms, he wanted to feel that warmth.

“Is that a good thing?” Robbe smiled down at him, dimples and everything, and Sander reached up to touch his lips. It made Robbe pause for a moment as Sander traced his bottom lip with his thumb.

“Yeah, it is, I’m thinking about you and how much I love you in every universe.”

His words made Robbe shiver. A small noise of need escaped his mouth as he took Sander’s thumb in-between his lips and lightly kissed it whilst Sander pressed it down onto Robbe’s tongue. It was a question, and both of them already new the answer. The way that Robbe looked down at Sander, his thumb between his lip, mouth slightly open, eyes half-lidded, had Sander shaking beneath him, and Robbe was soon pulling Sander’s hand away to lean down and kiss him. Even after all this time, they kissed like it was the first time, as though they were exploring every touch, every pressure point, every moment where they could push each other so close to the edge and fall back into each other’s arms. Sander moaned, deep in his throat, as Robbe trailed the kisses down his neck and licked into the curves of his shoulders. Robbe mouthed at the skin before he left behind the soft bruises causing the pleasure to build in the pit of his stomach.

Sander pulled himself away, flipping them over so he could crowd up into Robbe’s space but before he did that, he sat back on his heels, looking down at Robbe and seeing how the younger boy was already spaced out, eyes blown wide with lust. Sander loved Robbe like this, loved how compliant he was and how one touch made both of them come undone. A soft smile played on the edges of Robbe’s mouth and Sander wanted to kiss it, wanted to taste how it felt to make Robbe happy.

When Robbe put his hand on the back of Sander’s neck to draw him closer, it made shivers run down Sander’s spine and he arched into the touch.

“Kiss me,” Robbe stated, lips hovering over Sander’s and the older boy had to hold back the moan that threatened to escape. It was one of those times where Sander understood how this felt like Chernobyl.

There was an understanding that passed between them and Sander sighed into the kiss that followed. Their hands roamed, seeking skin against skin and Robbe’s long legs wrapped around Sander’s waist pulling him in closer, but still not close enough. Sander sat up as he trailed kisses down Robbe’s neck, keeping the younger boy seated firmly in his lap. His fingers hovered at the hem of Robbe’s t-shirt, asking, because even after everything they've been through, Sander didn’t ever want to push Robbe like that.

Robbe breathed a heavy yes, and Sander placed one last kiss before pulling the t-shirt over Robbe’s head, leaving it discarded, and finally allowing the contact that their bodies craved.

It was something Sander never seemed to get used to, the feel of Robbe’s hands on his body, leaving their imprint, and the feel of lips against lips, all soft kisses, yearning and needy. Robbe whimpered when Sander kissed that one delicate spot behind his ear, fingers threading through blond hair, tugging firmly, asking for more. And when Sander pulled away, Robbe whined, chasing the contact, searching for him in the dark. Robbe was watching Sander, eyes trailing from his mouth to his eyes then back again, almost as though he wasn’t sure where to look. It was desperate and Sander leaned in until their breathing merged and their lips brushed softly, teasing, causing both boys to sigh when they finally kissed. It felt like diving head first into the ocean, it hit Sander suddenly and all at once that Robbe was his, and these moments were theirs. He was the one causing the noises that left Robbe’s mouth, obscene and so, so perfect. It made Sander melt every time.

Sander took his hand and trailed it up Robbe’s body, tapping delicate fingers across his chest until he reached Robbe’s neck. His lips ghosted the kisses under Robbe’s jaw as his hand tightened its grip - only slightly but it was enough to cause Robbe to moan and arch up into Sander’s hands. This was how they had come to like it, Robbe in Sanders lap, their bodies pressed close and Robbe writhing when Sander took over.

“You know you're my forever, right?” Sander said as he pressed a kiss to Robbe’s shoulder, hand still loosely gripped at his throat, thumb digging into Robbe’s pulse, feeling the flutter of a heart beat underneath. The younger boy’s head tilted back, mouth open on a sigh, and Sander pulled back to look at him. 

He dragged his hand up to Robbe’s cheek and to the back of his neck, threading fingers through his hair and tugging lightly, asking Robbe to look back at him; and he did, hazel eyes met Sander’s in a heated gaze. 

“No one has ever given me a love like this before,” Sander confessed, eyes wandering across Robbe’s face. He gripped Robbe’s waist as he felt that tightness in his chest; it felt like something familiar but it was deeply laced with anxiety. The fear of losing this, everything he had with Robbe.  

Robbe looked down at him, lifting his hands to cup Sander’s face, fingers catching in the hair at the nape of his neck. He leaned to press a soft kiss to Sander’s forehead. 

“You’re my forever, and a day more,” Robbe said. 

Sander had to close his eyes, it was too much, too sincere. For Sander it was a confession but for Robbe it meant promises and a future where they would always have each other. Love had always been a fleeting emotion to Sander, something he could live without, but if he thought about it enough, it made his whole body ache. He didn't think he deserved it, and never wanted to put that pressure on someone else; to have to love him like that. But Robbe accepted all of him and if this is what being in love felt like then he wanted it, he craved it. 

“Look at me,” Robbe breathed, pressing closer to Sander. 

And Sander did. He opened his eyes to find Robbe staring down at him. 

“You, Sander Driesen, mean everything to me. Ik hou van jou, in all universes, and I’m glad I get to live in the one that gets to have you like this.” 

Sander shuddered, his hands dragging slowly up Robbe’s back, skin burning under his touch. Robbe leaned down to press their foreheads together. 

“I don't deserve you,” Sander said through a shaky breath.

Robbe softly kissed Sander’s nose, taking Sander’s hands into his own and lacing their fingers together. This was Sander’s biggest weakness; them being wrapped up together on Robbe’s bed, sheets pooling around their feet, Robbe in Sander’s lap and their bodies pressed close. It was in the way that Robbe touched him like he was fragile and it was those moments where they became so enveloped in each other that Sander let his guard down. It should scare him but he’d never trusted anybody more with his heart than he did Robbe. 

“You deserve me,” Robbe hummed as he sat back, catching Sander’s attention. “And even when the next minute is up, and it feels like time is running out for us, you’ll still deserve me, just as much as I deserve you.”

Sander leaned forward to rest his head against Robbe’s chest and arms immediately wrapped around him. 

“So please, Sander... allow yourself to be loved by me, because somewhere within these vast universes, I have already kissed you, and I’ve already loved you, and I’ve already got to spend my life with you… I want that in this universe too.”

It was overwhelming and it made Sander feel vulnerable but it was everything he needed to hear. 

“I love you so much.”

He pushed Robbe back onto the bed, sinking them deeper into the covers as they kissed. The layers that were still left between them were soon gone and it was Robbe moaning Sander’s name as they both fell apart in each others arms. It finally felt like coming home and that Sander didn’t have to hide anymore behind false confidence and the fake ideal of love only being something he had to endure. 

Sander wanted to experience it, wanted to fall so deeply in love and feel all the pain that came with it. With Robbe, it was like falling into the ocean and Sander didn’t mind if he drowned, because accepting himself had been a challenge, but allowing someone to love him had feigned him closer to damnation. 

As they kissed and with every touch, Robbe eased away all the sins that played on Sander’s mind, and for the first time he finally realised that the idea of parallel universes no longer made him feel lonely. 

In this universe he had Robbe, and in every other universe, Sander had him there too. 

Song: Feel Real by Deptford Goth.

#I don't know what this is #but it started as a headcanon #if you actually read all of this thank you ily #you can also read it on ao3 if you guys want to leave comments and kudos and all that good stuff #wtfock #wtfam #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe #rosander #sobbe fic #wtfock fanfic #wtfock headcanon #sobbe headcanon #robbe #sander #skam #willem de schryver #willem herbots #my wtfock fanfic x