#Also it blocks out the fact that I'm getting older! I'm literally one year closer to death if you wanna think of it that way!

[iero]

Okay question for you guys: Do you guys find it “childish” to buy YOURSELF a birthday gift especially if you’re, like, 25+ years old? 

[freezethebeez]

catalyst means the world to me fr

but also i am thinking about the christmas one shot specifically the birthday fact. because i had been wondering how often like ranboo would even let himself drink tubbos blood in like the long run of catalyst (among other things of course)

but i just keep thinking of birthday things that don't even relate to this but make me giggle. like you know how some people will say it's their friends birthday at a restaurant when it isn't for the hahas? actually wait imagine catalyst beeduo going out to eat and tubbo lying that it's ranboo's birthday for a free desert and ranboo gets really confused and anxious like ya know.

now i'm just thinking of catalyst beeduo in situations. like at the park and on the swings. enrichment! /silly

catalyst beeduo at a bookstore and ranboo casually drops the fact that his mom was friends with some famous author

catalyst beeduo adopt a CAT!!!! cat gets 24/7 pets (massive W)

catalyst beeduo build ikea furniture and they stay up so long trying to figure it out ranboo drops dead asleep. actually that wouldn't happen logically but i think it would be funny if there was a situation where they were both so focused they both forget that it's sunrise

anyways thank you for writing catalyst the brain worms will never stop tbh

1. how often would ranboo let himself drink tubbo's blood?

once a year, if ranboo got to decide entirely on his own. tubbo will sometimes mention that if ranboo doesn't feel like draining another bag of blood, he could have some of his instead. ranboo would take tubbo's blood over the bagged stuff any day, so sometimes it ends up being closer to three or four times a year. they both have a mutual interest in the intimacy of it all, which helps tubbo push past the pain, and ranboo push past the mental block :)

2. ranboo casually drops the fact that his mom was friends with a famous author

YES, and like, the cooler older ones, too. like the ones that english teachers preach about constantly. she was besties with a couple of them for sure.

3. catalyst beeduo at a park on the swings. enrichment! /silly

oh they are so silly indeed. maybe they even make a whole night out of it— getting pizza and then eating it at the top of the play equipment, tubbo pushing ranboo on the swings and then ranboo doing the same and tubbo nearly goes all the way around (man's is strong). maybe they even play a bit of catch, too, and it's not as cool as twilight's vampire baseball because ranboo cannot run fast, but it is very healing for tubbo's inner-child.

4. catalyst beeduo adopts a cat

yes. and maybe a michael at some point when they're all settled down and ready to raise, like, a whole ass kid. i'm thinking michael's a half-vampire too— just a little menace who steals tubbo's food and takes sneaky sips of ranboo's bagged blood. the cat gets 24/7 attention, and so does michael (who needs it tbh that little guy is so silly).

5. staying up late and ranboo just dropping dead

oh yeah that definitely happens at some point. if tubbo notices that ranboo's staying up a bit too close to sunrise, he'll warn him, but sometimes tubbo gets distracted too and ranboo just flops and tubbo only has half a heart attack before he realizes that Oh Yeahbhe just does That sometimes Crisis Averted :smile:

6. bonus headcanon/actual canon because i said so

when tubbo gets sick (like. colds and flus and stuff) ranboo ('acts of service as love language' husband) will do literally everything he can to take care of tubbo. he'll make him homemade soup (well... he'll call his mom, and his mom will), provide him with lots of tissues and cough syrup, makes sure he gets a good night of rest, and uh... there's also of course the "i have a fever and your hands are cold" so sometimes ranboo will just sit there with his hand on tubbo's forehead for like hours but it's just. THEY'RE SO FOND OF EACH OTHER AND TAKE GOOD CARE OF ONE ANOTHER AND [explodes]

[emerald-amidst-gold]

I'm not immune to the fluff 💖

Hand-holding 32. not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands Touching 22. falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

AWWW YES! My fluff trap has worked! >:D

Some drabbles! Just for you, friend! <3

Their relationship was confusing for some. Well, most, if Fane was being honest, but he didn't really care what anyone else thought. Not many relationships in this day and age held a candle to what he and Solas had fostered, and that wasn't the fault of those who didn't understand. It was how the world was, and their relationship was complexity incarnate, so confusion was a typical reaction.

And many, many people didn't understand the concept of intimacy in sheer presence. Not all love was shown through acts of intercourse or raw carnal desire. Sometimes, it was as simple as an open palm and a small smile as two hands became as interlocked as a masterwork lock. Even better was when neither party thought of combining tumblers, the act instinctual, the purpose wanted in thought.

And that was very much what depicted their acts of intimacy.

"If I get one more letter from Halamshiral talking about my eyes, I will seriously gouge them out.", Fane growled as said eyes flitted across a piece of parchment; a letter in the most refined and disgusting filigree he had ever seen. He didn't get paid enough for this job.

"I would advise against self mutilation, vhenan.", Solas quipped from beside him, the two of them situated side by side as the mage's desk in the rotunda. His sky was currently reading his own text, but from the view of a small smirk and lax expression, it was far more calming than what Fane was currently having to deal with.

"Just try and stop me.", Fane said with a sneer before flicking the letter away unceremoniously, sighing. "What time is it, anyhow?" It felt late and he knew that because of how his marked hand felt numb and heavier than a dead weight, but also...warm?

"I am unsure.", Solas responded, throwing off his confusion from gentle heat. "The candle is worn down to about half, so I would hazard a guess and say close to midnight." The assessment even, concise, even as the voice that sounded them held the desire to sleep in its lilt.

Fane blinked. "Midnight?", he balked, the mage only letting out a hum in affirmation. "By anything that's holy, Solas, why didn't you--", he went to raise his left hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but found that it was...heavy? And again, warm? "What the..? Why are we holding hands?", the question slow as his gaze shot straight down to their loosely joined hands and then back up and then back down.

When had they interlocked?

Solas let out an airy chuckle, his head lulling to the side, eyes picking up from his book to give him a look that said, 'Truly?' before the hand adjoined to his own gave a light squeeze.

"Truthfully, I don't know the answer to that question.", Solas admitted, looking down at their joined hands, too with a small smile. "Perhaps it was merely instinctive. I find myself reaching for you without thinking.", more admittance falling like the freshest rain upon a warm brick.

"Do you now?", Fane teased as he looked back up to gaze into the only sky he would ever know from now until the end. Solas hummed, lifting his head back up, the same small smile still in place.

"I do.", he said without hesitation before something akin to shame flashed into blue and grey, blessed warmth beginning to unravel with his slightly larger appendage. "But I can stop if you--"

Fane shook his head, cutting Solas off. "Don't start with that.", he admonished, pulling the retreating hand back to entwine them tighter together before picking up the next letter in his small pile. "You can hold it for as long as you want, my sky.", he said before shifting his gaze away from slightly wide orbs. "...And you're not the only one who finds themselves reaching out. You beckon for the dragon above to land, and I yearn to draw the sky near. So, don't worry about making me uncomfortable because I'm anything but that."

Heat blazed across his cheeks as the words left his mouth, intensely screwing his eyes on the letter in his free hand, but not retaining any of the words. Damn it all! Why did he always get so flustered?! He was just saying the normal shit he always did! So, why did it--!

"Thank you, my dragon.", the words of gratitude sounding like a literal prayer as the voice that uttered them dropped to a reverent whisper, the hand around his reinforcing its grip around his own like molten silverite. "Thank you.."

Fane huffed out an amused breath of air, giving his molten encasing a reciprocating squeeze, further solidifying the bond between them.

"No, thank you. For everything."

****

The Emprise du Lion was cold, that much was a given, but wasn't so bad for Fane. Two layers of fur was more than enough to keep him comfortably warm. Anymore than that and he would melt, his inner core still inherently the same as the one he had possessed as a dragon.

However, others were far less fortunate. Namely, a creature, that for all intents and purposes, should have insulated fur of their own.

"Cold?", Fane asked plainly as he meandered his way over to where Solas was sitting on the log by the fire of the Inquisition's latest reclaimed camp, face calm, but a light shudder through strong, but slender shoulders betrayed the true state of his sky.

"Not terribly.", Solas responded easily, but subtly tried to shift his furs around so as not to make Fane aware. Sadly, keen observational skills and a pinpointing nature were his aces in this particular deck of veiled strength.

"You're cold.", Fane stated matter of fact, stretching one long leg over the log to plop down next to his sky, chuckling a bit when a lightly shivering form instinctively leaned into his own, seeking warmth. "How you think you can hide shit from me is a mystery."

Solas chuckled, actively resting his head against one of his fur pauldrons with a quiet, but content sigh. Fane only rolled his eyes, smirking. For an elf that prided himself on keeping a poised and reserved demeanor, he sure did crumble when around him. Though, that was exactly what Fane sought every time he and Solas managed to get some time alone.

"Old habits are hard to kill, ma'isenatha. Ir abelas.", Solas murmured from where he was nestled on his shoulder, the sun setting in sky-like orbs as they shut, blocking out the orange glow from the fire before them. "It is simply more frigid than I expected."

"I imagine for you, it is.", Fane murmured back, rolling his head to the side to rest it against the top of Solas', who let out another, more tired sigh in response. "Tired, too?" It was a foolish question, he knew, but he was trying to use his voice more. Even if to state the obvious.

Solas nodded a bit. "The red lyrium is especially potent here. It makes it hard to concentrate, thus I expend more energy pulling magic through the Veil.", he explained, no longer shivering form coming closer to where their knees were touching. Fane didn't even flinch, the layers of his armor and cloak making his scars blessedly numb.

"Then sleep.", Fane ordered softly, lightly nuzzling his cheek against the mage's head. "I've been asking a lot of you these last two months, so rest. I'll take first watch." He wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon, anyways. The red lyrium was causing him issues as well. Murmurs in the back of his mind, and echoes of blackness with crimson lights in the distance making it hard to keep his rage in check.

"No, that is unfair on--", Solas began to protest, as per usual, but Fane silenced him with a growl and with a jerk of his arm, fluttering out his cloak to wrap it around his stubborn wolf. The reaction was instantaneous as the mage practically melted into his side with a truly exhausted sigh.

"Go to sleep, you old fool.", Fane said, leaning down a bit to lay a light kiss to a lax temple. "I'm fine. The cold doesn't bother me, and neither does less than two hours of sleep. So, relax and dream." Solas needed the rest more than he did, and he would grant him that.

The mage sighed. "I do wish you would stop calling me that.", the words slurred with approaching sleep, but still held gentle teasing in silk.

Fane shrugged, lightly so as not to jostle Solas too much. "I state what I know.", he said. "And you're old."

"You are older than I.", his sky replied, inching closer and closer to the Fade as his form leaned into him more, the cheek buried in his fur going lax as usually calm breathing slowed even more. Fane smiled a bit at that, bringing his emerald cloak in more to shield his wolf from soft gusts of chilly air.

"Only by about two thousand years. Give or take.", he quipped quietly before laying another soft kiss to Solas' temple. "Now, shut up for once, and sleep. You can glare and raise your eyebrow at me later." Solas only let out a noncommittal hum at his words before Fane saw his face go completely lax, sleep wrapping around a tenacious mind like how his cloak was his physical body.

Fane smile a bit more. "Sleep well, my sky.", he whispered in a voice he only reserved for the one of utmost devotion. "Ar lath ma.", unusual Elvhen rolling from his tongue as he repositioned his head to lightly rest it against the top of Solas' again.

And sadly, he missed the tender smile that rarely graced a stoic face, his words reaching far past the boundaries of the Veil, the Fade, and perhaps, even the Void. The sky would rest in the wings of a dragon. No matter where their mind would take them for their heart, their soul, knew what the mind sometimes did not.

[aspiratinganxiety]

Yay, requests are open! I had a hard time picking b/c those were some good ass prompts, but... "Person A lifting Person B up to reach the second floor railing from the first floor after someone tossed their stuff up there" with Jason, if you would, my dear. Doesn't necessarily have to be high school related, I'm not picky lol. Thanks in advance!

Yay, requests are open! I had a hard time picking b/c those were some good ass prompts, but… “Person A lifting Person B up to reach the second floor railing from the first floor after someone tossed their stuff up there” with Jason, if you would, my dear. Doesn’t necessarily have to be high school related, I’m not picky lol. Thanks in advance!

I am all too happy to fill this prompt for you! Thank you so much for the opportunity. You are a wonderful friend and such an encouraging presence in my life. I love you dearly, and I just want you to know that I appreciate you. 

Tag List: @nxttime, @possiblyelven, @thepuckishrogue, @jinkies-its-a-writer (If you want to be tagged, let me know! For more fics, check out my masterlist.)

Also gonna say here that my requests are open again for a limited time! I’ve hit 500 followers (fucking wow!), and I’m including NSFW works for this round of requests. Go to my blog and request some more things from me!

When Jason says there aren’t any good footholds up to your backpack, you assume that’s the end of it. Your friend’s big brother had followed you into the stairwell, tried to help, couldn’t, and now it’s time to report your own idiot brother to the office. School’s been out for less than an hour. Surely one staff member is still around to unlock a door up to the second story.

Jason, however, comes to a different conclusion. 

You are a step and a half lower when the mountain of human at your back snags you by the armpits and unceremoniously hefts you up onto one of his shoulders. Like any normal person lifted more than five feet with no warning, you shriek. Limbs flailing in all directions as you’re benched on the juncture of his arm, you ache where his hands clutched your squirming torso.     

“Jesus, kid,” a wry Jason says as you struggle. It’s only when your knee knocks into his cheek that all amusement leaves his tone. “Oi! Watch it.” 

You yelp, ignoring the young man you’d mistaken for a friend while frantically scrabbling for the railing. “Don’t drop me! Don’t drop me! What is wrong with you?”

“Are you kidding me?” he growls, exasperated when your leg tags his face for a second time. 

Jason slaps a firm grip on your knee, using his own knuckles as a poor shield for the cheek suffering your unintentional battering. One arm barred over the band where your thighs become your hips like a vice, Jason knows that you’re locked against his shoulder just fine. If you’d stop thrashing, you’d realize it too.

“Grab your shit and let’s get out of here,” he says, unable to see how close you are to the prize as your torso blocks his view. “Tim’s probably been waiting for us at the car.” 

You wail petulantly, eyes clamped shut. Heights terrify you. Just lingering five steps up made you feel like you were navigating a complicated mass of even little cliffs. You stared at your feet when you took the stairs every Tuesday and Thursday, and you’d shown up two hours early at the beginning of the year so that you could make your schedule with as many classes on the first floor as possible.

Out of nowhere, Tim’s voice asks, “Tim’s where?” 

He’s up above you, leaning over the second floor railing and flashing Jason a smug grin that quickly wilts as he takes in the scene below him.

Jason huffs. His tone is flat as a platter. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Some rational part of you notes that Tim is on the second floor. This is a good thing. He can rescue your book-bag, and his giant brother can put you back on the ground. Instead of asking for any of these actions to take place, you squeeze your eyes closed again and cry, “Help!”

“She’s afraid of heights, Jason,” Tim explains. You’re not entirely sure what transpires, but the words come from beside Jason in the stairwell. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you peep the nearest eye open to see that Tim has hopped down next to his brother with your backpack in hand. “Please put my friend down.”

“Please!” you echo, paradoxically clinging onto the railing up above all the more fiercely. Your stomach feels like it’s puckered into a sour, shriveled prune and is trying to creep up your throat. 

Jason mumbles something unintelligible, washed in a quick flash of guilt. It’s like he’s gone and put a kitten up a tree, and now there’s no way to slide her down without grossly adjusting her uniform in an inappropriate way. He assesses the situation for another solution. He doesn’t find one.

The older brother goes contrite where he had been irritated. “I uh- I maybe didn’t think this one through, Timbo.” 

A panicked sound escapes past your wandering stomach as it dawns on you that you’re in less than capable hands.

Tim walks away, having foreseen the embarrassing turn this scenario was likely to take. “You’re not kidding, Jason,” he calls back over his shoulder with a bark of incredulous laughter. 

“Welp, sorry, sweetheart.” Jason accepts the inevitable and moves his hands to either of your hips. When your weight is balanced in his palms instead of on his shoulder, he instructs you. “You’ve got to let go when I tell you to, okay?”

Whimpering an assent, you loosen your grip and do your best to disassociate from the entire debacle. No amount of effort, however, keeps you from noticing the trill that shoots up your spine to feel the way he’s holding you.

The closest you’ve ever been to a dude is sitting next to Tim, and that doesn’t count anymore than being on a couch with your brother. Your sweet lil’ mind simply cannot process that there’s an undeniably handsome twenty-something in a leather jacket with his hands literally up your skirt. 

Considering it too closely kinda’ makes you want to die a little bit. Or maybe burst into song?

Today too, of all days, you hadn’t hiked on a pair of tights to go under your uniform.  

When Jason’s got one foot planted on the higher stair behind him, he gives the signal. “Now!” he says, working quickly to direct your fall. 

You drop, forcing yourself to focus on the sensation of strong hands running down your thighs and locking in the crooks behind your knees. Your back slams against his broad chest, and it’s hard to breathe with your belly folded so tightly. Your knees are parallel with your shoulders, and you don’t even want to think about the humiliating way that your legs are splayed. 

“Down!” you demand. “Put me down, now.”

“Right.” Jason lowers himself closer to the ground and drops your legs one at a time to be sure of your footing. “Again, that was my bad.”