#I do feel kind of proud that I am finally indulging in drawing my favourite character as much as I want :3

[redstarfish-art]

Which Jason is best?

All drawn by me. This is what it looks like when an artist does not have an established art style. XDDD

[capitaineathos]

I finally wrote something! Here is my Musketeers Summer Solstice gift for @number-of-the-beast-is-666 :)

It's kinda self indulgent fluff, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

~~~~~

Porthos loves his little flower shop. Thinking about where he came from, how he grew up, how his life could have gone, he's proud of how far he’s come. He's built his tiny business from the ground up and the work brings him joy. He has a small base of regular clientele and plenty of orders on his online shop to keep him busy. His arrangements are known for their beauty and for their affordability, and Porthos takes pride in each and every one. He loves his little shop and he knows he always will.

~~~~~

Aramis loves the little flower shop on the corner. He remembers the first time he'd visited; a particularly difficult therapy session had left him feeling low and his counsellor had suggested that he buy himself some flowers to bring some joy to his home. He remembers how sceptical he'd been, how he'd scoffed at the idea, yet found himself drawn to the little shop on his way home anyway. He remembers the warm smile of the florist; his kindness and the joyful enthusiasm that seemed to radiate from every pore. The florist – he gave his name as Porthos – had suggested a bouquet of sunflowers, bright and warm and happy, and Aramis had felt just a little of the despair lift from his heart.

To this day, sunflowers are his favourite bloom.

Now, more than six months later, Aramis is a regular customer at the little shop. He comes to buy himself a bouquet every two weeks, striving to always keep flowers alive in his home. And if it means that he can see the florist’s smile, it will always be worth the price.

Yes, Aramis loves the little flower shop on the corner and he knows he always will.

~~~~~

Today, the shipment is of roses. Porthos likes to stock blooms of various colours; red and yellow and orange and pink, and various hybrid combinations of the four. He unpacks each flower carefully, his calloused fingers always deft and gentle in every movement. He knows that the slightest hint of roughness can bruise the delicate petals and he has grown used to the tender care that they require. And with St Valentines Day fast approaching, he knows he must preserve as many of these roses as possible.

He begins to cut the stems, fingers quickly staining green as the chlorophyll comes in contact with his skin. He finds that he doesn’t mind the stains so much now; not like he did at first. They are part of him now, and they are part of a job that he loves with all of his heart and soul. A fresh smell, the freshness of the flowers that he surrounds himself with, is already clinging to his hands, and will do for the rest of the day. And the sweet, perfumed scent of the roses will linger just as long, perhaps allowing him a whiff even as he falls asleep at the end of a long day’s work.

Cutting stems is repetitive and time consuming and, though he considers himself to be rather good at it, it is inevitable that some of the roses are cut too short to be useful for his bouquets. For Porthos prides himself on quality and he likes to make his bouquets as perfect as they can be. So any roses that are too short, or slightly bruised, or otherwise not quite adequate, are set aside and Porthos laments that he has no use for them. Though they may not be quite perfect, they are still beautiful and could still bring someone joy. Briefly, he wonders if he could take them by the local retirement home after work.

However, his thoughts are soon interrupted as a cheery tone sounds from the front of the shop, signalling that a customer has entered. Leaving his roses aside for the moment, Porthos emerges from the back room to stand by the counter, should he need to offer assistance.

When he sees who has entered his shop, his heart skips a beat.

He sees Aramis often, and the two of them have become amiable acquaintances, but Porthos can’t help the quickening of his breath and the frantic thrumming of his heart that always occurs when the other man enters his shop. He wipes sweaty palms on his jeans and tries to calm the fluttering in his chest.

But when Aramis turns to smile at him, his legs suddenly feel weak under his weight and he has to swallow a sudden burst of nerves.

“Good morning, Aramis,” he says, proud of how level his voice sounds. “Is it time for your next bouquet already?”

Aramis laughs and the sound is almost melodic; clear and bright as a church bell.

“Am I so predictable?” he asks. “I was actually hoping that your sunflowers might be back in season. As much as I love the other bouquets you made for me with the chrysanthemums and carnations and such, I’ve really missed having my sunflowers around.”

Porthos sighs softly. He knows of a perfect bouquet that he could make for Aramis – with bright sunflowers and vibrant irises in a bed of green foliage – but the sunflowers won’t be in season for a few months – not until May at the earliest. And Porthos hates the thought of disappointing Aramis; even the idea of it leaves a hollow, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Yet, there really isn’t much that he can do.

Aramis must see it in his eyes, because his bright, charming smile falters ever so slightly, even though he tries hard to hide it.

“I assume they aren’t in season yet then? Oh well! Do you still have any of those carnations?”

Porthos helps him to find a bouquet; warm and bright and colourful, just like Aramis himself. It is full of chrysanthemums and carnations and camellias and Porthos almost thinks that it might be one of his best.

Aramis certainly seems delighted with it and, as he comes to the counter to pay, promising to come and pick it up after running a few more errands, he casually asks;

“So, do you have any plans for St Valentines?”

Porthos shakes his head. It has been a long time since he celebrated the day with a significant other, but he hardly minds. He has always believed that having many relationships is much less important than having the right ones, so he has been waiting for the right person to come along.

Looking at Aramis, he almost allows himself to hope that it will be worth the wait.

Yet, he is still surprised when he hears the soft laugh from the other man.

“Me neither. The whole thing may seem rather cliché, but I actually quite enjoy being swept off my feet every once in a while, so it'll be a shame to spend it alone.”

Porthos opens his mouth to apologise, but Aramis holds up a hand to stop him before a single syllable can pass his lips.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve had enough fooling around. I want to find the right person; the one who I'll hopefully spend the rest of my life with.”

Aramis slides the money across the counter and their fingers brush; only ever so slightly, and only for a moment, but Porthos swears that he feels a jolt of electricity surging through his veins.

He looks at Aramis and wonders if he feels it too.

But Aramis says nothing, just smiles and turns to leave.

Porthos watches him for a moment, then forces himself to draw his eyes away from Aramis' retreating figure, to begin sorting the money into the till. But then he finds something unexpected hidden amongst the bills; a small slip of paper with a hastily scribbled number scrawled upon it. For a moment, Porthos can’t move, he can barely even breathe. All he can do is stare at the slip of paper in his trembling hands, barely even able to believe that the moment is real.

However, the sound of the door opening quickly breaks the spell and the words have escaped him before he even has time to think;

“Aramis, wait!”

There is a pause, and then Aramis is peering around the doorframe, one eyebrow quirked in silent question.

“Please... just... wait just one second?” Porthos asks, and Aramis nods in response. Porthos feels a slight weight lift from his chest as he ducks into the back room and collects up the roses that he had previously set aside. He collects them into as neat a group as he is able, though it is nothing like the quality of his usual work. He ties some yellow ribbon around the stems and returns to the front of the shop.

As he offers Aramis the roses, too nervous to say a word, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. In that moment, the entire world is Aramis and Porthos isn’t sure whether he’s about to watch his world crumble.

But then Aramis smiles, warm and bright and beautiful, and breathing seems just a little easier.

“Porthos, they’re beautiful!”

“Just like you,” Porthos whispers, and Aramis’ cheeks turn a dusty shade of pink. He takes the roses and cradles them to his chest as he leans in to gently brush his lips against Porthos' cheek.

“You will call me, won't you?” he asks, and Porthos doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so nervous. Aramis is so bold and loud and cheerful, yet he seems so shy as he asks the question. He can barely meet Porthos' gaze, instead choosing to look down at his feet, and all Porthos wants to do is look into those eyes and fill them with hope and joy.

So he gently places a finger beneath Aramis' chin and tilts his face up until their eyes meet, and he smiles.

“I promise.”

It’s two simple words, but Porthos can see how happy they’ve made Aramis. His smile seems brighter, the tension has eased from his shoulders, his eyes are sparkling with excitement. He is beautiful, and Porthos suddenly needs him more than he needs air.

It is instinct and it takes him by surprise, but he leans in and gently catches Aramis' lips with his own. Aramis melts into his arms and Porthos settles his hands on his hips. His hold is gentle, treating Aramis as tenderly as one of his precious roses. For Aramis is like the flowers; precious and beautiful and fragile, and he deserves the same tender care.

It only lasts for a moment, the soft pressure of Aramis’ lips against his own, but Porthos could swear that no moment will ever be as perfect.

Aramis smiles at him, one hand coming to rest against his cheek.

“Call me,” he whispers again and Porthos nods, forcing himself to take a breath and finding that all he wants is Aramis.

“Absolutely.”

[sayonera-is-in-too-many-fandoms]

So I am not an artist, but I decided to draw my dream Pokémon Team and am pretty proud of how it turned out so here we go:

My darlings (and me)

If someone is interested in their backstories (I have put way to much thought into these) then keep on reading!

My trainer is either just a normal trainer or, when I feel like going with the story, an older version of Lyra from Heart Gold (as this is still my favourite game and the first one I have ever played). I usually call her Heart when playing and the rival Soul.

Then there are

Sunshine, the female Mimikyu

Mimikyu is my trainer's first Pokémon which she met on a vacation in Alola when she was very young. She ran off playing somewhere and met her, finding her cute and befriending her quickly. But when she brought her to town with her (after some bonding and playing) she was told how dangerous it can be. They told her about the curse and how it cannot come in contact with the sun. But my trainer decided to stay friends anyway because the Pokémon had been so kind. And she told her that Mimikyu would be the only sunshine she wanted. After that Mimikyu came back home to Jotho with her new friend and some time later allowed her to catch it.

Sunshine is a bit anxious about meeting new people, rather shy and still afraid to hurt someone. But also noone should ever mess with her trainer. Ever. She is strong due to her affection and due to her being the longest ongoing partner.

Mephisto, the male Typhlosion

Cyndaquil was one of the (starter) Pokémon professor Elm was holding on to. Together with Totodile and Chikorita it would play with the neighbouring kid, Heart (aka Lyra) and actually also befriend her lowkey weird Mimikyu. Then the plant starter found a trainer... and the water starter was stolen. Upon hearing this my trainer decided to start her journey for real indirectly, at least so far she could get Totodile back. Cyndaquil was miserable and lonely without all his friends and Elm saw that... and suggested that he should go with Heart to get his friend back. In the end he stayed with the trainer and became Mephisto, the second team member.

He is super chill and usually in a good mood. He doesn't look like it but he loves to help smaller Pokémons and allows them to ride on his back and to be surrounded by friends. He also likes to play smaller pranks on people but alk in all he is good-willed.

Titan, the female Snorlax

Now, we all know the tale. Snorlax blocking off the street. Walk the other way, through the tunnel and get the fluet. Well, Heart decided upon arriving in Kanto, having become the Jotho champion and owning her first badge that no, she wouldn't do that. This Pokémon seemed to sleep super deeply. She would climb over it. And she did but as she was up there Snorlax turned sideways and grabbed her with an arm. She wasn't squished but also couldn't move. So she did the only reasonable thing: take a nap halfeay on top of Snorlax. As it woke up it realised that it was cuddeling something and decided that it was not food but a new friend.

Titan is... well, a Snorlax. Sleeps and eats a lot and likes it. But she also loves to give hugs.

Napoleon, the male Empoleon

I honestly never gave him a backstory, should probably tinker something. Napoleon is super smart and pretends to be a cool dude, but he also quickly loses his temper, completely different from what his typing suggests. He often has beef with Buddy because they are a bit too similiar character wise.

Buddy, the male Garchomp

Buddy and Heart met back when he was just a Gabite on Victory Road in Sinnoh, when she on her way to the Pokémon League. He had always been a loner, but this human was super nice to him and didn't judge on his appeareance. Other trainers always had been afraid or wanted him because he looked scary, but this one just treated him like a friend. So much he helped her out of the cave (she had gotten lost) and went with her.

He stayed true to his loner self. He is slightly aggressive, possessive and can be super scary. But Heart loves him like a effing Puppy and around her he almost acts like that too. He won't let anyone ever scratch her and breaks out of his ball when he feels like she needs to be defended against a mean trainer, a very wild Pokémon... or someone that she doesn't like hitting on her (she is a young adult wandering through all the regions, people will hit on her).

Guinevere, the female Leafeon

She was a very well-treated Eevee and belonged to an older woman in Kalos. But she yearned for adventure and her owner finally did agree to giving her to the nice passing trainer that had helped her out with something. She then evolved into Leafeon in the Winding Woods.

She is beautiful and knows it, ever since she has been an Eevee she had been told how pretty and cute she was and it made her a bit stuck up. But she is more than just a princess (though she enjoys being treated as such). She enjoys batteling the most out of everyone in the team because it gives her a chance to prove that she is not only nice to see but also strong and loyal.

So that was my Pokémon team.

This is super self-indulgent but I am proud and if you read all of this: hope you had fun!

[ladylynse]

Rules: Answer 10 questions, write 10 questions, and tag 10 people

Tagged by @amynchan. Thanks! This was fun to do.

1) When did you start writing fanfiction?

University, unless you count a couple of school assignments which would technically count (writing another chapter to To Kill a Mockingbird, writing the journal of one of the nameless boys from Lord of the Flies, that kind of thing). I know that sounds really late, but I wrote original stuff before that. (...Terrible original stuff. Hopefully, when I go back to that, it’ll be less terrible.)

2) Is there a particular story of yours that you’re super proud of?  (Link!!)

I’m usually most proud of something that I’ve recently finished. This typically excludes one-shots just because I’ve invested less time into them, but Compromised (DP) was the first fic I wrote entirely from the POV of an OC, for all that I’ve relied heavily on OCs in some stories in the past, so.... I’m proud of how that turned out. Otherwise, I’m going to go with Crossroads (GFxOtGW) because it’s finally finished, I actually got it done, and I think I managed to do the stories justice, or Broken (ML), because that was me wrangling with raw emotional pain and trying to get it down onto the page in a way that translates, and I think it worked.

3) What would you say is the most evil thing you’ve done in your writing?

Killing off a character mid-sentence springs to mind. Or, y’know, accidental patricide.

4) Write it by hand first or just type it straight on the computer?

Typically straight into the computer. It’s written by hand first if I’m not with my computer. It’s been years since I’ve written out entire chapters by hand and retyped them. Retyping isn’t that bad because I’m a fairly fast typer when I know what I’m typing and not thinking on the fly, but I move things around a lot and editing on the go is so much easier on a computer.

5) Have you ever thought of writing poetry?

I have. I’ve done it, back when I was doing original stuff (it wasn’t just short and long stories). I don’t think I’m any good. I can rhyme--as demonstrated in this fic where rhyming was over half of it--but that’s only half the battle, or none, depending on the type of poem you’re writing.

6) How many fandoms can you handle at one time?

In one story? I’m pretty sure my current record is four. (I also am very sure someone brought up an SPN/SQ crossover but I’m pretty sure I haven’t actually done that yet.) In multiple stories? I think that’s what killed my update speed, multiple stories in different fandoms--though in all fairness it’s most likely the multiple stories. (And, y’know, RL getting busier.) Reading, heck, if it’s well written, I am here for crossovers.

7) How many hours of sleep do you get when you’re working on a story?

That...depends. Unless I’m really, really, really trying to get something done, or unless I’m writing because I can’t sleep anyway, I don’t sacrifice too much sleep. An extra half hour, hour at most. Not sleeping enough gives me bad headaches, and it’s not worth the pain. So most of the time, I get my normal amount of sleep.

8) What inspired you to write fanfiction in the first place?

Nothing in particular, really. I mostly just liked writing and thought it would be fun to play with other people’s characters. I never hesitated because of the stigma around it or anything--my mom used to write it, and I’d read some of the stuff she wrote, along with, y’know, crossovers for various fandoms I was in and she wasn’t--so I was reading a lot of it, but I didn’t start with writing what I was reading. (I still tend not to write what I’m currently reading. I’m weird that way.) I liked writing, so I decided to try it, to see if I was any good at this kind of writing. I like crossovers, I like time travel, so I did the incredibly self-indulgent thing of writing a crossover between two time travel shows (Doctor Who and Quantum Leap), and I regret nothing. (I mean, there are definitely ways those fics could be improved--I’ve certainly gotten better than when I first started--but I don’t regret writing them.) 

9) Do you tell people IRL that you write fanfiction?

Rarely. Mostly depends on who they are. My immediate family knows, a couple of my cousins know, and some of my friends (I think fewer than ten). I ended up explaining what it was to my brother-in-law at Christmas because he wondered what the heck I was typing on the computer since I was done my thesis, and he had the best reaction to date: that’s so cool! (...Other people I’ve told have not received it as well, and those people are no longer counted among my friends--for various reasons, not just this.)

10) What is the happiest thing you’ve ever done in any of your fanfictions?

Uh.... *tries to think of something happy that didn’t come on the heels of or was immediately followed by something bad* Expecting a child? Acceptance? Found family (x/x/x)?

My questions: 1) How do you typically deal with writer’s/art block? 2) Name something else you’re talented at--or enjoy doing, if you question your actual talent. 3) Angst or fluff? 4) Fanfiction/fanart or original stuff, in a perfect world where they are received equally well? 5) Crossovers: never, anytime, or really depends on the fandoms (if this is the case, what would you not write/draw/read a crossover with vs something you would)? 6) Name three of your favourite fandoms (crossovers included if it’s a particular crossover, eg secret quartet or superphantom). 7) Who’s one of your oldest online friends that you’re still in contact with, even if you don’t share the same fandoms anymore? 8) Ever met someone IRL you knew first online--or would you, given the chance? (Up to you if you want to name names.) 9) Name a character or two you relate to, and say how. 10) Do you typically go into a fic/art project with a plan, adaptable though that plan may be, or does your ‘plan’ typically consist of ‘I’m going to wing it and see what happens’? Tagging: @bibliophileap, @sach216, @dannyphandump, @faiasakura, @queenofhearts7378, @sapphireswimming, @lumanae, @azthedragon, @wolfsongroar, @ave-aria (feel free to ignore this entirely or--if you’ve been previously tagged--to only answer the questions)

[hetaliaindie]

Going down memory lane

Just a little photo post.

June 9th 2017

I come back after more than a year, ready to try this out again.

I love how I'm always straight with ya guys in the tags yeesh.

July 4th 2017

The start of my first proper event, the Gandharva Event! (Though I've revised his design greatly ever since- there's no trace of Shiv in this anymore!!)

July 24th 2017

My first interaction with @grandparomeaskblog !!! When will I stop drawing your son in compromising situations-

August 28 2018

The very very first glimpse of Mr. G!

Also August 28

The day I started lowkey introducing the world to Shiv's 2500 year old crush.

September 1 2017

Young Shiv art!

September 9 2017

The most cursed artwork in this entire blog, thanks to aforementioned Grandpa Rome and Mr. Camel ( @de-beste-persian-empire) 

September 16 2017

I think, this is the first sridevi we got on this blog. No introduction, nothing.

Same day and we have Sridevi being as demanding of sweets as she always is, and our lovely Aarya! @ask-ladylotus​. The world deserves more india wamen.

September 21 2017

One of my favourite answers to date: Jugaad

September 24 2017

Gosh I don't like the art here at all, but here's the start of the lotus/god angst.

Same Day

The cutest darn Shiv ever. I hope I've kept this side of him alive.

Same Day

I think this is interesting because it seems that I was really fond of a more metaphorical approach to some questions and I'm still like that today: Jealousy

Same Day: Start of the God (dream) Event

September 30 2017

Yeah that's really what they looked like then.

October 5 2017

This may have happened nearly 2000 years ago but I do keep referencing it so here, boys and their issues.

October 24 2017

Same story, more details

October 26 2017

This is truly one of the most beautiful works I've made, and this is when I start getting very fond of this kind of storylike narrative, bright colours and literal metaphors.

November 3 2017

Jerks.

November 5 2017

Mr and Mrs. did have their casual pretend intimacy. Now she's alone but Mr. Gold has Zar. I hope we see her grow now that her fake love partner's dead and reborn.

December 19 2017

This is about when I fell in love with both of them tbh. Btw the baby was carefully delivered to an orphanage and quickly adopted by one of Mr. G's workers.

December 28 2017

The start of a legend. The Highschool AU. Would you believe me if I told you that Gypty and I still work on it casually or see various futures spawned from it? 

January 15 2018 (Welcome to 2018 my good folks, we made it)

This isn't important content but artwise, It's when I really started pushing for dynamic stylistic choices for my art.

January 16 2018

You really really see it here, and also I start indulging more in patterns to brighten up the simplicity of everyday life. I'd also say this is where the general body differences are most exaggerated between them all (even with sridevi as a child).

January 22 2018

A comment on Arthur Kirkland.

January 23 2018

A memory of the Sack of Delhi. It may strain your eyes (unfortunately I can't say that was on purpose), but it's a tribute to a nation who's heart has been stamped on by circumstances that no one can predict, yet its spark still lights. From an art standpoint, I was very proud of the expression I felt I conveyed well in this panel.

January 28 2018

Listen the amount of research I put into giving you a culturally intriguing gag response- 

February 2 2019

Mrs. Gold, I definitely improved a lot with colour usage here.

February 1 2018

This is where I have truly tried too hard on colours but I'm really warming up to it. (Oh nu is my icon that old- i'll get a new one soon I promise)

Please just take a moment, if you're someone who is an artist and is on a journey, to compare this piece with some of the earlier ones in this post. This improvement wasn't completely random. It started with looking for stylistic changes in the way I drew- in my case, really exaggerating the flowiness of my strokes and sharp points (messing around with a grittier brush, helped me a lot too, if you're someone who sticks with soft brushes or mechanical pencils, I couldn't recommend trying to use a textured brush or irl charcoal to get a grasp on the type of mood you want to evoke). At some stage it became a love story with color too, but colour takes time and lots of adjustment, which is why you won't see much of it in my blog.

March 5 2018

This is where I really start pushing the exaggeration on Mr. G, but only to get a feel for him. He evolved from a chunky nosed, physically imposing figure with a laughable quantity of gold, to something more desperate and dependant on money, something lean and mean with a nose that could poke an eye out. And here, most prominent is the shape of his lips, which had grown more prominent than before and very good for emphasizing his frown (and hell to work with when trying for his dimpled smile).

March 11 2018

I drew this for an rp starter since words couldn't describe what was in my head. I think it's a fine example of my adoration for patterns- but not just patterns, the idea of luxury beyond compare. It's prominent in my blog but only because I have the brain of a magpie and am constantly like ‘ooo shiny’. But really, I drew what I liked, so I improved. Find something you like drawing if you haven't yet. It can be skulls, it can be leaves, feathers, find your motifs and everything will honestly follow along.

May 17 2018

Post exam-hiatus, I am back with the gang, my art style is a bit rusty but boy have I got intimately involved with colours.

May 22 2018

I can't get colours out of my head, I'm thinking about them day and night, I need to create, I need to and so I do. (In all honesty I am certain that something greatly inspired me to do this but I cannot recall what).

June 12 2018

The Kill Cindy 2k18 movement is born. I can finally show you the Mr. G I have been hiding from you all.

July 1 2018

Something I can point out now is that while I think my colours work (honestly i was making use of patterns to distract you all at this stage- before I returned from my hiatus, I'd been rejected in an interview for an animation course and the key point my interviewer made was that my sense of colour was jarring, so I really was sensitive over it but seeking out improvement), what I would change is that adding a clear light source and allowing an atmosphere (by adjusting the main figures’ hues slightly to match the background) to emerge in my art would make it a lot better. And I start to grasp at this knowledge.

August 19 2018

The start of the bodyswap event, I swear I'll get back to it. I just want to use it as a stepping stone to get some meaningful character development out of it, thus it's ongoing.

See here, this is where I just stop caring about skin and character colour as something that should more or less be constant. Now it's vibrant and blinding for no other reason than I want to make you feel (granted, I did that too much here and it makes things hard to understand much less appreciate).

September 8 2018

Here I'm really just feeling the colours, Shiv's home is easy- everything is luxurious but at once welcoming (or at the very least, pampering), Sridevi's home on the other hand was shown to be neater and almost less personal, there isn't much immersion allowed in her place but in Shiv's..oh man.

November 2018

As you can see, activity has been dwindling what with rigorous college days and having moved to a new city. It should pick up eventually, but let me close this off with some new art.

Do I have something to say about this piece? Yes, I do! The point of view is Shiv's, thus the warm colours and the way he blends into the background. The main figure here is not himself or his 2nd player, but the vibrant peacocks, that exist in a shade of blue too vibrant to be real. In between the two sentient figures, is our young Mr. Gold, clearly he has the favour of these birds but he doesn't seem very affected by them- unlike the jealous Shiv. He's the dullest colour present and he wears the blandest clothing, the matters of peacocks (be they blue or orange) do not apply to him and he is at once alienated. 

Today, November 14th 2018

So after everything, here we are. Is this what all my art was moving towards? No it isn't, it's really just me playing around with photoshop brushes, but the mood of this image is something I feel that I've conveyed with integrity. That's what I want to keep striving for. Thank you all for staying with this blog as long as you have, thank you to all my newer followers, I've linked most of these points to their original posts, I hope that Tumblr does not break them. Love you all!

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Finding Our Way

A/N: Repost of an old fic. I’m actually really proud of this concidering I had only been writing a couple of months when I wrote this. Feedback is highly appreciated y’all!

Warnings: Death, some angst and some fluff.

Characters:  Dean, Reader, Sam (kind of)

Wordcount: 2726

The rain is pouring down as I stand in the middle of the almost empty field. My black dress is soaked, my heels are digging into the wet ground, and I’m uselessly trying to brush a few wet hairs away from my face. Cold, shivering, I wrap my arms around me as I look up to the dark sky. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but it’s certainly been a while. My eyes are fixed at what’s left of the fire that was burning so vigorously just a while ago; now in the pile of ash, I can barely see some specks of orange between the gray. Tears are forming in the crook of my eyes again as I take in the sight before me. How can it be that a man who was full of life a mere twenty four hours ago is now reduced to a pile of cold, wet ash.

The hunter’s funeral serves a purpose, I know that, but now the smoldering pyre seems barbaric, now that it’s Sam we’re burning. Sam Winchester, the man of my dreams, the man that I fell so hopelessly in love with, the man that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Sam Winchester, friend, boyfriend, son and brother. Gone. Dead.

I can feel the strength leaving my body, my knees coming dangerously near to giving out, when the feeling of a blanket being wrapped around my shoulders startles me, but the familiar touch of strong hands gripping me makes the fear fade away. I turn to look into the green eyes of my best friend, Dean; I’ve seen his face so often I could locate every freckle, despite the dark. I’ve known Dean since I was nineteen, when our fathers met up for a hunt, and we’ve been close as brother and sister since.. He looks as exhausted as I feel, reminding  me that however much it hurts me to lose my boyfriend, it’s twice as hard on him, losing  his baby brother. And yet, he takes a step to the side and reveals a picnic blanket and cooler,  likely filled with beer, that he brought, taking my hand and guiding me towards it. The rain has stopped completely, and as we sit down, I can  see some stars peeking between the clearing clouds. Dean offers me a beer and even though drowning my sorrows is tempting at the moment I choose not to. I pull the blanket he gave me tighter around my body, drawing my knees to my chest to rest my chin on them. We don’t speak, choosing instead to sit in silence, watching the clouds slowly disappear as more stars comes to view.

I glance over to the remnants of the fire, and I am powerless to keep my body from shaking, tears falling once again. It only gets worse as Dean wraps his arm around me and pulls me close, guilt clenching at my heart. I should be the one comforting him, after the loss of his brother. The bond between Sam and Dean couldn’t be explained: it had to be experienced.  I can’t even begin to imagine what he is feeling right now, and still here he is, comforting me. Dean never puts himself first; there is nothing that he wouldn’t do for the people he loves. But he is going to have a hard time finding his way after this - the memory of him after John died is still clear. So, of course, it’ll come down to me to watch out for him, as he does for me. I pull away from him slightly and stretch out my arm so that he can join me under the blanket; he pauses for a moment, ever wary of affection, or care for his own well-being, but then he slides closer, pulling the blanket around both our shoulders. The sky is completely clear now and I can see the millions of stars that are blinking down on us. It’s beautiful, a night Sam would’ve loved: just the two people closest to him, the silence of the plain, and the eternity of stars shining overhead. The only thing missing is him.

“I’m sorry” I murmur, without looking at Dean, eyes too blurry and wet too focus. I hear him breathing deeply before he responds, swallowing his own tears.

“I know, sweetheart,” he finally says, sliding his hand into mine and squeezing “Looks like it’s just me and you now.”

“Yeah,” I respond weakly before burrowing my face into his shoulder, no longer able to repress the sobs shaking my chest. Dean pulls the blanket tighter around us and settles his face in my hair. I feel his own quiet tears kissing at my scalp even after I stop crying.

“Just you and me.”



2 months:

I throw myself down on one of the beds in the shabby motel room, more grateful than I should be for the grungy comfort of the mattress. We have been hunting non stop for the past two months, half of which I’ve spent swallowing my own sadness and fear and convincing Dean to take a day or two off. After John died, Dean spent every day restoring Baby after the truck accident and every night indulging in whiskey and women. Now, however, it’s work, all day, every day. I like to think he’s changed tactics because I’m with him, and I suppose it’s better than STD’s and a defunct liver; but right now, I, for one, need a moment to breathe.

“Hey, it’s only for a day or two, just a breather,” I say cautiously as I watch him anxiously bounce his knee, desperate for movement, for some distraction. A part of me feels the same way - the part that keeps me from curling up into a ball of depression - but we are still only human. How proud Sam would be - instead of watching out for his brother, I let him run himself into the ground. The memory of Sam still makes my chest tighten, so I pull my favourite book out of my duffle, hoping that it will be distraction enough for tonight.

“I need to get some air” Dean  says abruptly and stands from his chair “Do you need anything?” He briefly meets my gaze, a rarity these days; I shake my head, and a second later he closes the door behind him, leaving me completely alone.

The week after Sam’s funeral, we caught the demon who killed him. Dean took great pleasure in torturing him, listening to the thing curse, then beg for mercy, and finally for death before he ended its life. I will never forget the look in his eyes while he carved into the demon, a look of rage that I wouldn’t think possible from this sweet, selfless man; but the way Dean looked at me after the deed was done frightened me the most. The green in his gentle eyes  had been replaced by a dark brown, almost black. His spark was gone, whatever made Dean the brother I loved was gone, replaced by something as sinister as what had killed Sam. Perhaps it was the terror in my eyes or his own self-relfection, but since that day, he has barely looked at me, talking to me only when necessary - God forbid we discuss what happened, in typical Winchester fashion. I suppose he is out blowing off some steam, but to my surprise he comes back only half an hour later with a pizza and some beers.

“I brought us some food” he says with a tentative smile before laying the spread  on the table “I even ordered it with pineapple” he adds proudly. I can’t help smiling back - he knows I love pineapple on my pizza, and I know he hates them with a passion. I make my way over to join him at the table, half-pleased, half-worried about this change in his behaviour.

“Pineapple huh?”

“Mhm..” he mumbles with a mouthful of pizza, and gestures for me to dig in..

Half an hour later, I open another bottle of beer after clearing away the empty pizza box, mildly impressed that two people devoured an entire large pizza. The mood has lightened somewhat, but I’m still scared to talk to him, afraid I’m gonna say the wrong thing.

Dean suddenly takes a deep breath, as if about to dive off the deep end.“I’m sorry that I’ve been working us so hard lately,” he says, watching me as I slowly sit back down across from him and take a long pull on my beer.

“You know, I don’t mind hunting, Dean, but…it’s the tension between us that wears me out, how we can’t even talk to each other about…I mean, after…you know…” I’m unable to stop the words from spilling, and I silently curse myself. He digests my words for a while before he answers.

“I know. And I’m sorry about that, too.” He takes a deep breath and leans forward in his chair. “I know I’ve been kind of a dick to you, but ever since… since Sam died and the demon…I’ve been trying to figure out how to be around you.” I must look confused by his words, because he bites his lip and thinks for a moment before continuing. “I mean…I know that you need me, I promised Sam that…and we need each other, but I don’t…I don’t know how to be there for you, to help you heal, when I’m such a mess myself. Especially after you saw me doing what I did to that demon.” I can see a shimmer of tears in his eyes. He shakes his head a little and grits his teeth, trying to keep the tears at bay. In all the years I’ve known Dean, this is a side I’ve never seen before. I would’ve sworn he’d die before allowing anyone to see him this vulnerable.

“I don’t judge you for what you did to that demon, Dean, even though it scared me. But it was what happened afterwards that frightened me. You just closed yourself off from me, you shut me out.” I try my best not to let my frustration show, I need him to know that he hurt me, but I also need him to know that I forgive him. “I just need my friend back,” escapes my lips, as I swallow hard on the lump that’s forming in my throat. “I feel like you’re pulling away from me, and I have no idea how to bring you back.”

“I’m sorry” he says, “I really am.” I can see the remorse in his eyes and I know then that he truly is sorry. For a while we sit in silence.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” I say, once my voice is steady, and I get up and head for the bathroom.

“Come here” he says, softly  and I turn around to see him standing with his arms stretched towards me, more open than he’s been since the funeral. I don’t even think about it before I’m walking over and wrapping my arms around his waist. We stand there, just doing our best to hold the other together for a long time.

“I know we still have a long way to go, but I…I think we’ll be okay,” I say as I look up at him. He nods back, still a little tentative, but something’s shifted.



8 months:

“You broke a guy’s nose?” Dean almost cries from laughter

“He grabbed my ass!” I respond defensively, even though I’m laughing with him.

“I’m not even surprised” he says smirking, as he throws me an icepack from the medical kit in my duffle bag.

We have our ups and downs, but we’re slowly finding our way back to some kind of normalcy. Dean is acting a bit more like his old self, he laughs moore, he teases me at times, and I even saw him flirting with a bartender a few nights ago. He wouldn’t admit it though. He doesn’t even argue with me when I suggest we take a few days off anymore. I feel more like myself these days too.  I think about Sam every day. For a while I was afraid that I would forget something about him if I didn’t, now it’s more to remind myself that I will always remember him.

I remember that when the sun hit his hazel eyes it revealed a hint of green in them, I remember the dimples forming in his cheeks when he threw me one of his boyish grins and I remember the sound of his laughter. I miss him like crazy, but I’m finally able to focus more on the happy memories and not just on the pain of losing him. For a while, I felt guilty every time I smiled or laughed, as if I wasn’t allowed to be happy without him, but I don’t anymore. We are not healed yet, I don’t think we will ever heal completely, but it’s getting better.

It’s moments like these that helps us, when it’s just the two of us goofing around, no evil chasing us. Just us, getting back to being ourselves.

“So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks me as he leans back on his bed.

“I don’t know. Something fun!” I smile at him.

“Wow you’re specific..” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at me.

I teasingly bat my eyelashes. “I know right! What do you want to do?”

“Well, there’s this small lake not far from here, I read in a brochure that it’s a nice place for fishing”

“I say fun and you think fishing?” I chuckle.

“Yep” he answers confidently.

“Fine, Winchester. If we can go swimming afterwards, I’m in”

“Deal.”

We decided to bring a tent to the lake, agreeing that we would spend the night if we liked it up there. It’s certainly gorgeous - the sun is up and the water is completely still. There are a few people in boats and a few more swimming, but we managed to find a secluded area to pitch our tent. I dig a book out of my bag and lean back against a tree, smiling to myself as I watch Dean throwing the line into the water. We stay like this for hours until I realize how much time has gone by  - the sun was about to set for the evening. I grab the extra chair that we brought and make my way over to Dean, setting it up by his side.

“I think it’s too late for swimming” he says with a little snort as he turns to look at me. I feign a little annoyance, but honestly, I’m just so happy to see that  spark in his eyes slowly returning that I don’t mind about the swimming at all. Every day that goes by, I can see more and more of my old friend in him.

“I guess you’re right,” I nod “Do you want to head back to the motel or  spend the night up here?”

“If you want to, we can stay.”

“Only if you want to,” I tease back.

This place is so peaceful and quiet and so much what Sam would’ve loved that I can’t help feeling a little sad..There is always going to be a part of me that’s missing; I suspect it’s the same for Dean. We will carry Sam with us for the rest of our lives, and I’m slowly getting used to the fact that there are always going to be things that remind me of him, things I wish he could be a part of. I lean my head on Dean’s shoulder and let out a long sigh. Despite the sorrow, I know as long as I have him by my side, there is nothing in this world that can break me, break us. Dean packs away his fishing rod and gently drapes his arm around my shoulders. We sit again in silence and watch the last rays of the sun paint the sky. The rays melt away and the stars begin to appear, and for the first time, the thought of Sam being near does not bring tears, but rather a smile.

Everything SPN

@docharleythegeekqueen @deansgirl215 @feelmyroarrrr @emoryhemsworth @essie1876 @sleepylunarwolf @angelsandwinchesters @roxyspearing @dustycelt @captainradicalpassion @grace-for-sale @fandomsstolemylife00 @laurenisnot @mrswhozeewhatsis @superapplepie @mogaruke @girl-next-door-writes @luckyfriess @duckieburns @melonshino @dslocum89 @sea040561 @smoothdogsgirl @megasimpleplan4ever @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @itseverythingilike @riversong-sam @x-waywardaf-x @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thereisnolumos @just-another-busy-fangirl @mamaredd123 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @iliketowrite02 @nanie5 @wwecrazed2010 @its-not-a-show-its-a-lifestyle @obsessivecompulsivespn @impalaradio @organicapple022 @heyitscam99 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @azlinh @mystrie

Jensen/Dean:

@its-not-a-tulpa @mizzzpink @jayankles @torn-and-frayed @whimsicalrobots @luckyfriess @sandlee44 @viviandarkbloom06 @imaginesofdreams @mayasmedberg   @iwriteaboutdean @wingedcatninja @capsheadquarters @trunk-full-of-ideas @lavieenlex @angelsandwinchesters @applepielyf

[auroraphilealis]

A Familiar Kind of Love Chapter Twenty-Two

A Familiar Kind of Love

Genre: Chaptered, ace/aro (flux and other experiences including but not limited to queerplatonic relationships), self discovery, witches, slow burn, getting together (eventually and in a mixed romantic/platonic way), RP format

Warnings: inaccurate herbology/plant & medicine stuff, self-esteem issues & confused hierarchy systems between familiars & witches (that does get resolved), threatened non-con (later, warned in chapter, and non-explicit), explicit discussions of nudity/sexual content but no actual smut, light experiences of ace/aro discrimination & feelings of discomfort/dysphoria during self-discovery, swearing

Summary: Born in a world full of magic, Dan spends his days running an apothecary and curing the sick. Potions and antidotes are his only friends, and he lives a happy life of quiet solitude - until a familiar he never wanted takes it all away. Forced to make a decision that’s life or death for one of them, Dan and Phil have to learn to co-exist together, entering a journey of self-discovery… and a familiar kind of love. Ace/Aro

Word Count: 15,410 this chapter

Thank you to @vanillasolitude who we could not have done this without. Every inch of their commentary and editing was a huge confidence boost, and we can not thank Emily enough for even being willing to do this with us. Seriously, it was a mammoth task and Emily just completely rose to the occasion, so giant thanks from us!

Updates: Monday & Wednesday & Friday

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

For reference, @insanityplaysfics is Phil, @ineverhadmyinternetphase is Dan

(Previous) (Masterlist) (AO3)

insanityplaysfics: i truly can’t believe this is over. The amount of editing and rewriting that went into this last chapter alone is something you can’t quite imagine, and I think… is the best clumination of the entire fic. Of all the chapters, this is ultimately my favorite, and is everything that I wanted to do with this story. I am so, so thankful to ineverhadmyinternetphase for writing this with me, endlessly grateful to how much love she put into it, and all of the things that she taught me through it, and how much I feel that I personally grew. I don’t think we could have done this story in any different way, and I am forever grateful to the people who stuck by us from day one. All I can hope is that this story is for you guys what it is for me - and that’s a safe space for you to feel accepted and content as well. Thank you as well to vanillasolitute for her endless supply of notes and comments and help, and all the effort she put into this, because let me tell you, I know this was a wild ride for all of us. I truly could not have done this without both of these people, and our readers support means the world to me. Thank you for going on this journey with us, and I truly, truly hope you love what this final chapter brings. <3

Ineverhadmyinternetphase: just to echo what insanityplays already said, this fic is the single biggest project I have worked on to date and I’m so, so proud of what we achieved. This never would have happened if Eliza hadn’t indulged me in writing a character just like me, and I will be forever grateful to her for giving me the space to explore identity in such a fascinating way. Equally, I’m so proud of the world we created, bringing together magical and fantastical elements into what I hope reads as a well-rounded story. The comments from you guys have made every upload so special and I’m thrilled to see so many people understanding and resonating with this kind of experience. It makes me feel so much less alone. Thank you to every single one of you from the bottom of my heart <3

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Three bottles of Caldrac, the tonic for Lily, and the butterbeer you were thinking about twenty minutes ago,” Phil said the moment that Dan walked through the door into his office about a week later, mouth open to ask for the items that Phil had already magicked his way. The butterbeer was Phil’s own recipe, something he’d made by accident one night when attempting to make a soufflé (and Dan had already made fun of him for messing that one up) but that Dan had come to love after he’d made sure it was safe to consume. From time to time, he’d ask Phil to make it, but most of the time, he’d think it so hard that Phil would make it for him anyway, sending it off to him either via his own magic, or by switching to his cat form and taking it downstairs.

Today, he was in his human form again, as he had been most of the last few days. The two still had plenty of grey days, but Phil’s were far less intense than Dan’s recently, and Dan hadn’t minded Phil being in his human form for the most part, so unless Phil was outside of the office or their house, he’d stayed human out of a sense of comfort.

“No need to thank me,” he teased, turning his gaze back to the time-sensitive potion he was currently brewing. It could, and would, blow up if Phil messed it up even by a second.

Dan snapped his mouth shut, staring at Phil with a mix of bemusement and happiness. In the end, he settled for a little exasperated sigh, folding his arms. “Yeah, right. If I don’t thank you, I’m never going to hear the end of it. Everything out of your mouth for the next decade will be, Oh, Dan, you have to do this thing because remember when I made you butterbeer and you didn’t say thank you?” Dan snorted, but there was affection in his tone and eyes as he regarded Phil.

He took a step closer, winding his hand around the mug and bringing it straight to his lips for an appreciative sip. On his way, he gently patted Phil’s hand. If he hadn’t been grey, he probably would’ve pulled Phil into a hug, maybe even kissed his cheek, but Dan had been getting steadily more grey throughout the day until now, and he felt much more comfortable without that kind of intensity.

He did moan a bit loud when he took a sip of the mug, though, and hummed happily as he grinned at Phil over the mug. “Okay, you win. Thank you very much, and as reward, you can go bring Lily her tonic. She loves you way more than me.”

Phil giggled as Dan teased him, knowing that the other male was right; if Dan didn’t speak up now, Phil was going to take advantage of his silence on the matter, and Dan would never hear the end of it. Phil’s favourite thing to do recently had definitely been to poke fun at Dan, and this was one of the easiest ways to do it, as it had taken a while for Dan to get with the program and realise that when Phil said “you don’t have to,” he really meant, “But if you don’t, I’ll hold it over your head.”

“Come on, Dan,” Phil argued. “You know I’m not like that,” he teased, watching as Dan picked up the mug Phil had prepared and drew it to lips, patting Phil’s hand lightly and letting Phil know that he was feeling particularly grey. The motion actually told Phil that his time as a human was up, now, and that it would be better for them both if he was in his cat form when he didn’t absolutely need to be human until Dan was feeling less grey.

Rolling his eyes at Dan’s backhanded thank you, Phil nodded nonetheless. “If you really want me to, I’ll go bring it to Lily,” he complained, drawing on Dan’s magic and taking the excuse to change forms by concentrating until he’d popped through the change and came back out the other end as the sleek black cat that Phil still felt most comfortable as.

Sweeping fondly against Dan’s legs as he walked past, the tonic floating neatly behind him, Phil rubbed his ear into Dan’s calf, and then sped past him with a quiet purr. “Feel free to stay up here,” he insisted, before he took his leave.

Dan snorted, placing his mug carefully back down again and giving Phil a little nudge before he returned to cat form. “You know as well as I do that you’re exactly like that,” he disagreed. “You’d never let me live it down.”

He sipped happily at his drink, sliding into the seat behind his desk as Phil changed forms and rubbed happily around his legs before disappearing with the tonic floating along behind him. Dan was getting more and more used to the sensation of Phil pinching a bit of his magic, and it felt kind of nice now, how the two of them melded together. Even when he was grey, Dan liked that.

He was looking forward to curling up later with Phil-cat sprawled across his lap. As much as he loved being held when he wasn’t grey, he also really loved Phil’s purrs. Still, he wouldn’t mind having a little bit of time to himself first, just to reorient his head after a busy day. Also, he felt kind of sweaty and gross after accidentally knocking into his venus fly-trap earlier and getting covered in soil, and he was itching for a long soak in the bath. He never felt completely comfortable doing that when Phil was in the house, though.

Feeling slightly awkward, but wanting to be honest, Dan nudged tentatively at the bond as he continued to sip at his butterbeer. Hey, I was kind of wanting to take a bath…are there other things you could do while you’re out before we cuddle later?

Phil had just dropped off the tonic with Lily when he felt a nudging sensation flood through their bond, and then Dan’s voice was there, hesitant and awkward and unsure. Phil had just been about ready to head back up to their house when the words hit him, and he frowned for a second before perking up and smiling, hoping that Dan would feel something akin to the sensation through the bond. Already, he’d changed course from heading back upstairs, and was making his way out of their store and out to PJ’s house.

Mara hadn’t been in the store again recently, and Phil was wondering if something was wrong. He’d been meaning to visit her for a while.

That’s fine. I’m going to go hang out with Mara, see how she’s doing, Phil agreed easily, sending good feelings through the bond to Dan and hoping it would calm him down. Just let me know when you want me home.

He had a feeling that Dan was going to need at least an hour.

Dan had never been more grateful to Phil than he was right in that moment. No sooner had he spoken the words, than he was getting flooded with soft feelings, gently reassuring him that Phil was fine, he understood, and he wasn’t offended. Dan had been blessed by a companion who understood the need for personal space, and occasional time alone. It meant more to Dan than he could say that Phil didn’t take it personally, but instead took it how it was meant.

You’re the best, he hummed happily back to Phil, answering the good feelings with a wriggle of his own happiness. I’ll be soaking for an hour or so, probably, need to get all this soil off me. Have fun with the raven. Dan couldn’t help the little hint of displeasure that accompanied that word - he just didn’t like the raven, okay? But he could handle Phil being friends with her, maybe. At least he was learning to curb his jealousy.

Dan happily made his way back down the stairs, locking up his office and checking on his shop floor before he headed up to his flat again. Everything was in order, exactly as it should be, and there were signs of Phil’s existence scattered everywhere by now; two plates in the sink rather than one, two creases on the sofa…three towels decorating the bathroom floor because Phil didn’t know how to clean up after a shower…

Dan shook his head with a fond smile, throwing them in the wash and collecting a fresh towel for himself, before he firmly closed and locked the bathroom door. He didn’t often spend time completely to himself anymore, and sometimes, he liked just having time to relax and be still. Plus, he could still feel Phil’s emotions fluctuating through the bond, and the reassurance that Phil was okay just made Dan even happier.

He started running the bath with a small smile on his face.

**

The trek to Mara’s house was always nice, especially when Phil knew that PJ wasn’t going to be around - he’d said something earlier about having plans for the night, but that Mara was home sick and would be around if Phil wanted to visit - making it easier to avoid interrupting any personal time they might be having. Dan wanting some alone time really couldn’t have come at a better time, especially considering that Phil really was quite worried about his friend, and so he was thinking on how he could cheer her up as he wandered through the streets of the city he’d once nearly destroyed.

That felt so long ago now. There had a been a time when Phil couldn’t even think about what he’d done without wanting to throw up, and now he was able to wander the streets peacefully without having to pop from place to place via his magic. It was nicer this way anyway, and allowed for Phil to actually get some fresh air and a change of scenery. It was nice scenery as well - ever since Phil had released himself of the guilt of what he’d done and started to wander the town he now lived in, he’d come to find it incredibly beautiful.

He could not be any more pleased that it was safe and not destroyed now, that Phil was alive to see it.

The closer Phil got to the raven’s home, however, the more his sense of dread began to build. Familiars were quite attuned to each other, and Phil had felt unease prickling at him for days, weeks even, but never as intense as it was bothering him now.

Suddenly, Phil wished he’d thought to check in on his friend much sooner than now. There was a pit in his stomach that something was really, really wrong, and then he was turning the corner onto Mara’s street and realised there was smoke coming out of one of the windows.

Had he existed in any other world than this, Phil might have been terrified by the sight, possibly even assuming the worst, but he knew Mara was a familiar and that strong emotions could sometimes make her magic go out of control. That knowledge allowed Phil to merely pause and watch with trepidation in his heart until the smoke quite suddenly and impressively disappeared. Phil let out a sigh of relief at that, because it meant, if nothing else, Mara was still very much in control. That was a good sign, even though nothing else was, and suddenly, PJ not coming home that night made a lot more sense.

Mara was clearly hurting, and Phil hated himself a little bit for having taken so long to notice. He didn’t know what was going on with her, but it was more than obvious it had to do with her witch. Most things when it came to familiars had to do with their witches, the only person in their lives they cared about more than anything else.

Phil sighed. His heart ached for his friend. He’d noticed over the last few weeks that something was off, but he hadn’t put two and two together until now, too locked up in his own flourishing relationship with Dan to pay attention to his friend, and for all that he felt bad about it, he was going to do everything in his power to make up for it now.

And that started with getting up to Mara’s apartment and having a good old fashioned talk with her.

Choosing to forego his usual niceties, Phil channeled his magic the way Dan had taught him, rather than acting on instinct alone, and popped himself into the living room of the home he most wanted to visit.

Mara was in a frightful state when he arrived. The second Phil set eyes on her, his heart lurched, because her feathers were a mess and she was molting. The only thing that could cause such a thing would be her mood being far worse than Phil had ever even anticipated, and for a moment, he was too stunned to do anything.

He’d so rarely seen familiars in such a horrid state, their feathers, fur, or skin lacking that shine that Phil’s fur kept, lacking that delightful aura of magic shared between both witch and familiar, and their bodies beginning to deteriorate until they appeared nothing short of sick. Mara appeared sick. Mara had clearly been suffering for a long, long time, and Phil hated himself in that moment for not being there, for not noticing when Mara stopped showing up to work with PJ, when PJ stopped going home.

Where she was sat only added to the horrible image before him. Her small body was shaking on the bare floor of a blackened kitchen, the wreckage of countertops, storage space, and food littering the area around her in a perfect circle of destruction.

It was absolutely pitiful, and Phil’s heart broke for her.

Not wanting to startle the raven who clearly hadn’t noticed his approach yet, Phil took a cautious step forward and let out a pitiful little meow. “Mara?” he added, the call quiet and uncertain.

Slowly, the raven turned to Phil with dark, beady eyes, her wings fluttering uselessly at her sides, like she was uncertain whether or not she should be upset right now. It took a moment, but Phil was able to recognise the sheen of tears in her eyes, and let out a small whimper of his own.

“Mara,” he said again, this time even more quietly, and fell into a sitting position, making his body small and compact so he’d appear as less of a threat. “I’m sorry,” he added, and lowered his gaze.

Mara cawed at him, and hopped over, her legs frail and her wings useless, until she huddled right alongside Phil’s long form. Slowly, she collapsed, her beak landing on top of Phil’s head, where his ears twitched against her, and her wings pressing achingly into his fur.

“Hello, Phil,” she greeted, and her voice was gravelly and sad, heartbroken.

Phil whined again for her, and rolled over, eyes closing as he lay on his side for Mara, who collapsed fully on him until they were both just laying down, curled up together, just beyond the remains of a tattered kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said again, not expecting a response. He didn’t get one, and he started to purr gently instead, the sound as steady and quiet as he could make it in a raw attempt to soothe her.

**

An hour passed before they spoke again, and it was Mara who pulled away, inviting Phil to the sofa with her. For the very first time, Mara changed form in front of Phil, and a beautiful dark-skinned lady appeared in front of him, hair nearly as dark as Phil’s but done up in beautiful braids. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she was sniffling, but there was a sad kind of smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Well, here I am,” she greeted, to which Phil stopped and stared up at her, debating whether or not he should change forms as well. It wasn’t until the tears started to fall faster and faster down her cheeks, face crumpling in pain, that Phil transformed entirely on instinct, taking on his human features and reaching for the girl he’d known since childhood instantly. She was in his arms before he knew it, burying her face in the crook of his neck where only Dan had ever touched before. Phil couldn’t help hoping that Dan wouldn’t mind as he wrapped his arms securely around his friend while she bunched her fingers into the front of his shirt, crying steadily and heartbreakingly against Phil’s ear.

“Oh Mara,” he whispered, and held her tighter still, burying his own face into her hair and hugging her for as long as she needed.

It turned out that was less than a few minutes as she pulled herself together and then quite suddenly dragged herself out of Phil’s arms, wiping impatiently at her eyes and shaking herself a little.

“Sorry, sorry,” she insisted, sounding angry at herself. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, I just-”. She didn’t finish her sentence, instead inhaling sharply and biting down so hard on her lips that Phil thought she was going to make herself bleed.

“Mara, please,” he whispered, and went to reach for her. Mara shook her head, opening her eyes and letting her lip go all at one time.

“Please don’t,” she replied back.

“Okay,” Phil said instantly, and put his hands up in front of himself cautiously. Mara was eyeing him, clearly terrified, and it only made Phil’s heart ache more because he didn’t understand what she was terrified of.

With another small whimper, Mara collapsed on the sofa behind her, and curled up in the corner, legs drawn tight to her chest as she wrapped her arms around them to keep them close. Tentatively, Phil followed her lead, sitting at the far end of the same sofa and staring at her with kind eyes.

They were quiet, again.

“Mara?” Phil eventually asked, He didn’t reach for her again, but he was sorely tempted. She was staring with glassy eyes at the far corner of the room, and it terrified Phil to see her look so empty. “Mara, hey. Please. Talk to me?” he offered once more.

Mara shook her head.

“Please, Mara. Please. You know you can tell me anything. It doesn’t help to hold it in. You need to talk about your feelings. Is this about PJ?”

The name seeme to snap something in Mara, because she was crying again before Phil knew it, sobbing into her knees, her small frame shaking from her position on the sofa. Feeling absolutely useless, Phil could only stare, eyes pleading with her to just look at him.

“He’s leaving me!” Mara eventually burst out with, her chest heaving with held back emotion as she tore her arms away from herself and stood up to start pacing. “He’s leaving me, and it’s all because I can’t give him what he wants!” she wailed, and then she was shoving her face into her hands all over again, shoulders shaking as she came to a halt in front of Phil.

Still too afraid to go against her wishes and reach out to touch, Phil merely stared at her.

“Mara,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip.

She inhaled sharply, and clearly made an effort to pull herself together. Phil wanted to tell her no, stop, let it out, but he held himself back, watching her struggle to come to terms with what she was saying.

When she didn’t speak again for some time, Phil tentatively spoke up.

“What do you mean, he’s leaving you? What aren’t you giving him? Mara, you’re soulmates, I -”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Mara practically screeched, whirling on Phil with a dark frown etched deep on her features. “And stop looking at me like that!” she insisted, her pain turning to anger so quickly that Phil heard another explosion come from the kitchen.

He jumped, startled, only for Mara to flick an impatient hand in the direction of the accidental burst of magic, and wave it away.

Phil didn’t see what had caught on fire, or what had been destroyed this time, but he did see the smoke quickly clear.

“Mara,” he tried to say, but she cut him off before he could continue.

“Don’t, Phil. Don’t act like - don’t act like just because everything is perfect with you and Dan right now that you can offer me any sort of advice. I’ve been at this game far longer than you have, don’t you think I know what PJ and I are? Don’t you think I know better than you what it is to be a witch’s familiar? You’re so young and naïve -” her voice cracked and she suddenly started to cry again, shoulders shaking with the held back emotion.

Phil knew she didn’t meant that. Phil knew she was just upset. But the words still hurt, they still stung. Still, this was his friend, and he wasn’t going to leave her just because she’d said a few cruel words to him.

“Mara, don’t talk like that. Just because you’ve been doing this longer doesn’t mean I can’t help. You can’t just be alone in this,” he insisted, his voice pleading. Mara hardly seemed to be listening though, chuckling darkly and tossing her head as more tears careened down her cheeks.

“You don’t get it, Phil,” she dismissed, but Phil wasn’t having it.

“So then, tell me!” he insisted, “Because I’m not just going to leave you to suffer this on your own!”

With a frustrated whine, Mara threw her hands up, and just like that, all the lightbulbs in the apartment went out in a loud burst of shattering glass, and they were both left blind.

For all of a second, Phil panicked, heart beating fast in his chest. The fear was all too real, but he did his best to reign it back in and started to reach for his magic, drawing on its strength as he tried to get the lights to come back on again. His heart was racing, and he could hear Mara crying, and he wanted to do something, but she’d basically told him not to touch her again. The lights wouldn’t go back on, though, like something heavy was weighing on them all, and then Phil heard the sound of Mara’s body shuffling frighteningly close - until she was sat directly in his lap.

The lights went back on then, purely from Phil’s fear, from the uncomfortable feeling radiating through him at having anyone in his lap like this. He went to reach for Mara, to shove her off, but she got there first, reaching for Phil’s face and grasping hard at his cheeks before he could stop her.

“I just don’t understand!” she wailed, shaking Phil and staring at him far too close for comfort, her body hot and soft and wrong against his.

“Mara - Mara, I don’t -”

“I don’t - I don’t want the same things as him, but I’m supposed to! And I don’t understand! He hates me, Phil, he hates me! What if I’m not meant to be his familiar, what if I made a mistake? I just - I don’t… I don’t know what to do,” she wailed, and held onto Phil’s face even tighter than before.

Phil’s hands were frozen at his sides, but his skin was prickling uncomfortably and he wanted nothing more than to shove this person off of him. Everything about this felt wrong, sexual in nature, uncomfortable. He’d never been touched like this by anyone but Dan, and he’d never known how disgusting it could make him feel.

“Mara, please,” Phil whimpered, staring up at her with begging eyes because he didn’t even want to touch her, not like this. Not when she was in his lap. As a hug, sure, as a cat, fine, but not like this.

Mara cried harder.

“Even you don’t want me!” she whined, squeezing her eyes shut with a loud wail of pain that Phil did not understand. “What’s wrong with me!?” she asked, but Phil didn’t even know what was wrong, and then, quite suddenly, Mara’s face was even closer than before until she was gasping in Phil’s face, snot and tears dripping onto his skin, lips far too close to his own for comfort.

“Why don’t I want this?” she asked, and tried to kiss him.

Something erupted from Phil then, and he panicked, magic bursting out of him in a way it hadn’t in ages. Before he could stop himself, he was flinging Mara across the room and out of his lap, standing up abruptly and curling into himself with the sudden, desperate desire to get out of there.

He was frozen in place, though, shocked and scared and staring at Mara with wide, terrified eyes.

She cried harder, then, from where she’d fallen on her bum practically across the living room.

“I just don’t understand! I didn’t even want to kiss you!” she wailed, and shook on the ground. “You have it so easy, being all gross and in love. I bet it’s easy for you to kiss Dan!” she complained, and turned hostile, wet eyes onto Phil. “You have it so, so fucking easy, Phil!”

But Phil just shook his head.

“You don’t know anything about our relationship, Mara!” Phil shouted instantly, heart racing and dreadfully hurt by her words. This wasn’t even something he felt comfortable talking about, not when it had taken him so long to come to terms with and understand his own wants and desires from Dan.

Mara laughed humorlessly at him, shaking her head.

“Is that why you wouldn’t kiss me, then? Because you haven’t gotten to that part, yet?” she asked, and laughed again. “God, you really are naïve. Just wait, Phil. One day, down the road, your witch is going to want nothing but sex and kisses from you, and then where will you be? Right here with me.”

Phil blanched, mouth screwing up in pain.

“Mara, that’s not fair,” he complained. “That’s not how it has to be.”

“And how would you know, Phil? Have you ever even kissed your witch? That’s exactly how it’s meant to be,” she shot back, venomous as more tears streaked down her cheeks and she finally climbed back up onto her feet.

“You’re meant to share everything with your witch, give him everything he needs. Don’t you know that means your body too? Not just your heart, not just your soul - no, that’s not enough. He’ll take everything from you Phil, and there’s nothing that you’ll ever be able to do about it. And if you don’t give that to him, don’t give him sex and blowjobs and anything else that he asks of you, then he’s just going to leave and get it from somewhere else!” she spat.

Phil’s heart hurt. He wanted to cry even more than before, and his mind was swirling with such mixed emotions that he didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he knew that Mara was wrong, knew that what she was saying was coming from a place of hurt and misunderstanding on her own part, but the words hit home, hit every insecurity that Phil had ever had about Dan and then some. He knew that she was projecting her own situation onto Phil, knew nothing of Dan and Phil’s relationship, and yet it still struck him until all he could feel was panic that somehow, someway, she was right.

“I’m broken,” she wailed, and suddenly, she was crying again.

“I can’t love him like that, and he hates me for it.”

Doing his damned best to pull himself together, Phil shook his head and bit his lip.

“Not - not every familiar has to be in love with their witch. Not every pair want to be… want that kind of soulmate,” he insisted with a determined shake of his head.

“Yes they do!” Mara shouted over him, rushing at him like she was going to attack him.

Phil yelped and took a terrified step back, but she didn’t touch him again.

“Yes they do!” she said again. “And the sooner you realise that, the better!”

But Phil wasn’t having any of that. He might not fully understand what he and Dan had together, didn’t fully understand what he was or why he didn’t want the things that appeared so normal to the rest of the world, but if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Mara had to be wrong.

So he stood up straight and he turned and he faced her with the deadliest expression he could manage.

“No, you’re wrong. And the sooner you realise that, the better!” he growled, towering over her and watching her cower. “You’re just too scared to talk to your witch, too scared to find out that you’re different from what the world taught you that you should be. But the familiar’s wants and desires matter too, and if your witch is the right witch, then there is no doubt in my mind that they’ll want the exact same things as you do! You don’t have to give PJ any of that, and he shouldn’t ask you for that, and that’s okay. He’s still yours, and he’s still your soulmate, and you’re still the number one person in his life!”

Phil’s chest was heaving by the time he was done, and Mara was staring up at him in absolute awe and pain.

“Talk to your witch, Mara, and stop letting society dictate to you what’s right and what’s wrong.”

Phil didn’t stick around a second longer, revulsion still crawling under his skin at the way it had felt to have Mara touching him, in his lap, leaning forward to kiss him. In an instant, he was popping back home with tears of his own in his eyes, because for everything that he’d said to Mara… he was terrified that in some ways, he was wrong.

Was it really normal to not want to have sex with your witch, to not want to be intimate in that way? Was it really normal to love them one day, and love them the next?

**

Dan had been relaxing in the bath for almost an hour, happy, until things started to go sour the way they always did if he was left alone for too long. Dan knew his own tendency to get lost in his head, and years of living alone had taught him mostly how to handle it so he wouldn’t end up caught in a dark cycle that had left him on the floor one too many times. As soon as his thoughts started to drift, though, Dan was up and out of the bath, reaching for some happy music to play on his phone while he towelled himself dry.

Dan’s lips twitched when one particular song came on his playlist. Phil had added this one. There had been a delightful afternoon, early on in them learning about living together, when Phil had seen Dan using his phone for the first time and nearly had a heart attack when music sounded from it. Dan had laughed, until Phil whacked him with a paw and yowled at him to explain. Since then, Phil had grown all but captivated by the little device, and he was forever sneaking it away from Dan and adding to the playlist some of his own favourite songs.

This was one of those, some dancey number that Dan wouldn’t personally have chosen. It was a bit… bright, for his tastes. That fit Phil, though, with Phil being the much brighter side of Dan’s soft but sometimes sad demeanour. He couldn’t help but smile as he dressed himself in his pyjamas to the happy little song.

He was just settling down in the living room and flicking on a new episode of the show he and Phil had started watching together when the first ripple of bad echoed through the bond.

Dan sat straight up in an instant. He’d been trying to get better at paying more attention to the bond, especially when they were apart, and so at the first sign of trouble he was diving straight into it and nudging his way into Phil’s eyes, the way Phil had shown him how to do. He couldn’t sense any of Phil’s actual thoughts this way, but he could see and hear everything that Phil saw and heard.

There was a strange woman in front of him, a woman that Dan had never seen before, but he gathered from the fact that they were in PJ’s house that it must be the raven. Dan flinched, almost withdrawing - there was something kind of wrong about seeing the human form of someone else’s familiar - but before he knew it, she was speaking cruel, harsh, false words, and Phil was recoiling and reprimanding her.

But something worse was still to come. As Dan watched through horrified eyes, Mara approached Phil and actually sat on him, on his lap, making herself far too comfortable there for his preference. Jealousy flared in Dan, along with something very close to outrage, especially because he could feel through the bond echoes of Phil’s own discomfort, entirely separate from Dan’s.

Phil didn’t want her there any more than Dan did.

But from there, things only got worse. Mara’s words cut deep, her obvious turmoil disappearing in favour of the pain she caused. Dan felt it lance through him, piercing right to his deepest fears until he was tottering back down onto the sofa cushions, his eyes wide.

She… she wasn’t right, was she?

Dan had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough. If he was completely honest with himself, a big reason why he’d shut himself out of the world of familiars had been from a deep-seated fear that something was just… wrong with him. That he was missing out on something, that he wasn’t good enough as he was. He’d been running from those fears for as long as he could remember, and the easiest way had been to just cut himself off from other people. PJ aside, because PJ had seemed to understand him on some level, but the raven had always kept her distance.

…Could this be why?

If Dan was reading her words right, and he was still reeling, then maybe she’d been fearing the same things he had this whole time. She’d rarely gone anywhere without PJ by her side, and never spoken to Dan alone. Dan had always assumed it was because she’d had some sense that something was wrong with him, but what if, really, she feared the same things he did? What if she’d avoided him because he reminded her too much of herself?

Dan’s mind was running away with itself, but he forced himself to concentrate, to keep linked to Phil and not run away in his own mind. His instincts were to lock himself out of Phil and run away, especially as he’d been feeling grey all day, but a stronger, bigger part of him knew that wasn’t the right reaction. That whatever he might be thinking, Mara was wrong.

Phil had proved that, after all. Phil agreed with Dan about space, wanted (and didn’t want) all the same things as Dan. They matched perfectly, and things had been so good lately. Dan had finally started to feel accepted, finally begun to believe that nothing was wrong with him after all. All he’d been missing out on was Phil, and now he had Phil in every possible way he wanted him, and everything was perfect. They had their own system for caring for each other’s needs, and neither of them wanted anything else.

Dan clung to that, clung to the soft memories he’d made with Phil, and shoved away any and all of Mara’s poisonous words. She was wrong. She was. And she’d touched his Phil in a way Phil clearly hadn’t wanted her to, and Dan needed to fix that as quickly as possible, to wipe away any and all traces of herself that she’d shoved onto Phil. Anger curled through Dan even at the thought.

No, there was no way he was listening to anything she said ever again.

Dan got straight back up to his feet, wanting nothing more than to reach for Phil and remind him that Mara was wrong, that the rules didn’t apply to them. He didn’t have long to wait, either, as almost immediately Phil was popping suddenly into existence in a way that still made Dan jump, and then he was standing in the middle of Dan’s floor in human form, just kind of hovering there and making little hiccupy noises.

Dan swallowed back his greyness in favour of striding forward and pulling Phil into a close hug. He always enjoyed cuddling, anyway, whether he was grey or not, and he knew Phil would never push the boundaries beyond what he was comfortable with, so Dan simply tucked Phil’s head into his neck and held him tight, offering what little comfort he could.

“She’s wrong,” Dan promised softly, hoping Phil wouldn’t be mad that he’d kind of been spying on their conversation. “We don’t have to be like that. She’s wrong.”

Phil hated crying more than he hated anything else in the world. His throat would close up, and his nose got all stuffy, and he couldn’t seem to get rid of the choked up sounds he’d make when he really got going. He didn’t cry like that all that often, but he could feel the sensation starting to crawl into his throat already, and before he knew it, he was making small, choked, hiccupy noises as his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the tears already started to drip down his face.

There was just so much. The feeling of Mara touching him still ached under his skin, and his heart was racing so fast in his chest because what if she was right? What if, one day, Dan decided he did want those things that Phil didn’t want, and what if one day he went out and found someone who did, the way Mara seemed to be afraid PJ was doing to him?

It wasn’t fair, and right then, Phil was more angry at Mara than he wanted to be. He was supposed to be there for her right now, but he couldn’t be when he was freaking out because of what she’d said to him. Phil was so, so tired of people trying to dictate how his life was going to be - the familiars back at home, society here, and now even his only true friend. It wasn’t fair, and everything she’d said still hurt more than Phil could say, even when he knew she hadn’t meant any of it at all. It was obvious to him she was just reacting, and she could hardly be blamed for doing just that, but that didn’t change the way she’d left him to feel.

Before Phil knew it, Dan was drawing him into his arms, cradling Phil’s head to chest and speaking words of comfort into his ear, voice low and comforting and kind. It didn’t even register to Phil what he was saying for a minute, he was so taken by surprise that Dan was holding him at all when he knew his witch had been feeling grey that day, that his witch had been waiting to cuddle Phil as a cat rather than a human, but when he did register the words, he let out a horrified wail and really began to cry.

He couldn’t hold it back anymore when Dan was holding him like this, when Dan was loving him like this and trying to keep him safe and cared for. He wailed into Dan’s chest, and just kind of held him back, because he couldn’t understand why no one seemed to validate what he had with Dan when it was just as good as whatever people considered a traditional tale of romance.

Mara was wrong. Phil had everything, right here and now, and nothing was going to change… right?

Phil just wanted to be normal, and he didn’t feel normal. He didn’t want people dictating his life anymore, and as much as he’d wanted to be there for Mara when she was not okay, he couldn’t face it when she wanted to drag Phil down with her.

Dan wrapped his arms tighter around Phil, his heart breaking at the broken wail Phil made as he pressed his head into Dan’s chest. Dan cradled him close, gently stroking through his hair with one hand and making soothing noises, his other hand wrapped tight around Phil’s waist. This much close contact was a bit much for him, if he was honest, especially with Phil still being human, but at the same time Dan could overcome his momentary shudder in favour of making sure Phil was okay.

Was Phil okay, though? He was clutching tight to Dan and wailing, and the bond was filled with sadness and confusion and so much hurt. Dan just wanted to take it all away. He’d punch that stupid raven next time he saw her for making his Phil feel like this, like there was something wrong with them when honestly, Dan couldn’t imagine ever being happier. Never mind the fact that she’d forced herself on him.

Dan was furious. He was furious with the way Mara had come along and forced all these problems into their relationship right when things were finally starting to be ok. Dan had started to dare to be happy with Phil. He liked that they ironed out their own boundaries, that they were building this beautiful thing where they could each get just as much contact as they wanted, no more and no less. He felt loved by Phil, and he loved Phil in return, and wasn’t that really what all this was supposed to be about? Shouldn’t that be the most important thing? Why did Mara have to force something, and how dare she try and force herself onto Phil just because Phil wasn’t going after those sorts of things?

Plus, Mara had dared to presume things about their relationship that just weren’t true. Dan flinched when he remembered how she’d screamed that one day Dan was going to hurt Phil, that he’d only want Phil for his body. That couldn’t be further from the truth, and he shuddered and held Phil tighter against him even at the thought.

What they had already was perfect. Dan would be damned if he let some stupid raven get in the way of their happiness. He was going to figure it out, why he and Phil were so different to the rest of the world. No matter what it took, he’d figure it out, for Phil’s sake, so that Phil didn’t have to go through this anymore.

“We’re going to be okay,” Dan promised quietly, his voice a low rumble against Phil’s ear. “All that matters is that we’re both happy, and I literally could not be happier with you, Phil.”

It had been less than six days since the last time they’d had to have this conversation, less than six days since Phil had thought he was okay, and now the same conversation they’d already had to have once was being forced down Phil’s throat to be had again, and he hated it. He hated constantly being made to question whether or not what he had with Dan was right and okay and good. He knew he shouldn’t be letting Mara get into his head like this, but he couldn’t help it when he already felt so insecure.

The other problem was how badly Phil needed comfort, knowing as he did that right now, Dan was feeling grey and wouldn’t normally be wanting to hold Phil in this form at all. He felt terrible for making Dan hold him right then, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away when his chest hurt so much and he felt so hollow. He felt so hollow as he sobbed, the sounds hiccuping and loud, but everything was just wrong, and Mara had been touching him in ways that Phil never wanted anyone to touch him ever again - except maybe Dan, but even Dan wouldn’t mean it with the intent that Mara had. All Phil could really do right now was hope that Dan did not hate him for this.

He promised himself that as soon as he had himself more under control, he would pull himself together and switch forms for Dan, because the last thing he wanted to do was make this all messy for Dan when Dan was in a mood as it was. Dan never pushed Phil, and Phil would never push Dan in return.

“I love you,” Phil said, and he could hear himself that there was something in his voice far different to normal, that he meant the words in a very different way than normal. He almost wanted to take them back, but he couldn’t, choking on the very thought. “I just. Don’t want anyone to dictate how I should feel anymore. I’m scared that one day I’m going to turn around and even you - even you think we should be different. I never expected this when I came to your world. I never expected things to be… different.”

Dan leaned back to meet Phil’s eyes, slowly and carefully, because he didn’t want to surprise Phil with any sudden unwanted intimacy. But at the same time, this was important for them to iron out. Dan could see how much this issue was affecting them, and he hated it, but clearly they needed some added clarification and some definite idea of exactly what they were to each other for this to ever work out.

This was hurting Phil, and that meant Dan would never be okay with it.

“I love you too,” Dan answered, the same fierce intensity behind his words as there was when Phil said them. It felt like they were on another level, but it was the only right level - it was the only way Dan could express just what Phil was to him. Phil was his other half, the one who fulfilled him, the one who made his life warm and happy and better.

“I love you, Phil,” Dan said again, and he lifted one thumb to wipe away some of the tears under Phil’s eyes. Although this was intimate, it was on a different level - not romantic, no, this was so much more than romantic. It was a completely different plane, one where Phil was everything to Dan, and Dan could be everything to him, too. “No one has to dictate how we are around each other, Phil, literally the only thing that could ever matter is how we feel. And I love you, I love you so much.”

He drew back, then, releasing Phil from his hold but keeping one hand held tightly in his, because he could tell that Phil needed it right then. Perhaps he needed the reassurance that Dan really was happy with this, that Dan was never going to want something other. What they had was everything to him already.

Phil couldn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling as Dan drew away from his slowly, staring into Phil’s eyes and saying I love you with the same intensity that Phil had said it, with the same strength and meaning and energy as Phil had given him, reaching down to grab both of Phil’s hands in his as he said it again, brown eyes boring into Phil’s. There was a warmth and energy there that put Phil at ease, at least for now, and at least enough to make him feel like he really was going to be okay. Dan loved him, and whatever this was, was so much more than whatever Mara had been talking about when she’d asked Phil if he’d ever fallen in love.

This was… this was an entirely different thing, on an entirely different plane of existence, that meant so much more than anything Phil had ever seen anyone else have on TV. If all love was was what was on TV, then Phil didn’t want it. He wanted this.

As Dan spoke, Phil couldn’t help tearing up some more, the tears dripping down his cheeks as he listened and tried to hold back those wailing sobs that were welling in him again. This time, this time it was more than fear and sadness, it was gratefulness that someone could love him so much, and could want him to be happy so much, that they could reassure him in this. Dan had to be getting tired of this, not to mention he was probably feeling too grey for this, and yet Phil could not appreciate him more than he did in that moment.

“Come with me,” Dan said, voice commanding. “I’m getting my laptop, and we’re looking this up. And don’t fight me,” he forestalled Phil’s objections with a raised brow, “Because I know you said you don’t want someone else’s opinion, but this has upset you for too long and I won’t have it. We’re going to find out that there is nothing wrong with us, once and for all. Because there isn’t. There’s nothing wrong with you, Phil, and you aren’t missing out on anything. Other than a witch who’s a bit better at talking about their feelings than I am,” Dan confessed with a small wink, his hand still tight in Phil’s.

Phil’s breathing hitched when Dan pulled away from him though, and he almost protested when Dan insisted they go and look up what they were experiencing, but Dan’s words stopped him cold in his tracks until he was left staring at Dan with a stunned awe at the power and control in his witch’s words.

The tension was broken by Dan winking, and Phil coughed out a half-laugh, half-sob, following the other male as he steered Phil back over to the sofa and forced him to sit down. Immediately afterwards, he was off to get his laptop, and Phil was left to his own thoughts.

All he could really do was hope that Dan was right, and that there really was nothing wrong with him, that he wasn’t missing anything and that he was right. Mara had to be wrong. What Phil had with Dan felt like so much more, felt so much better. He shoved his face in his hands, and just kind of let himself cry.

When Dan reappeared with his laptop, it was to find Phil sitting curled up on the sofa with his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking. Dan’s heart tore a bit again. As soon as he could, he had his laptop open and loading and an arm around Phil, settling next to him on the sofa and pulling until he had Phil leaning completely against him.

“I promise it’s okay,” Dan murmured, though he thought Phil already knew that. The issue wasn’t that Dan and Phil felt okay, the issue was that everyone in the world kept telling them they shouldn’t. Well, Dan was going to prove them all wrong. Especially that stupid raven.

Pressing a quick kiss to the top of Phil’s head, Dan didn’t remove his arm once his laptop finally loaded. He just used his weaker right hand to open up a search engine, the fingers of his left rubbing soothingly against Phil’s shoulder.

It was then that Dan realised he actually didn’t have any idea what to type.

He paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to word this without instantly cringing or getting completely grossed out. In the end, he settled on typing in ‘relationship not romantic not sexual’, and took a deep breath before hitting enter.

The results that flashed up took his breath away.

At first, he’d been scared that he’d be met with nothing but ridicule and laughter, or websites that were trying to 'fix’ the 'problem’. What he got instead was a plethora of sites that suggested new words with new definitions, things he’d never heard of before that seemed to describe a whole new world; one he fit in with much better.

Dan nudged Phil gently, clicking on a link with word definitions and pointing to it with his chin. “Phil, look. Look at this, we’re not the only ones.” The list ranged through a whole host of words Dan had never heard of before, things like asexual and aceflux and demisexual and aromantic and queerplatonic. Although the sheer number of new definitions was a little overwhelming, Dan was already excited, because this was exactly what Phil needed.

Reassurance that they weren’t alone.

Phil’s worst fear had always been that he’d spend his whole life alone. When you lived in a world where most of your companions concern was finding and knowing how to be with their witch, there wasn’t much room to form close bonds. In fact, most of the other familiars that Phil knew, he knew very little about other than their thoughts and dreams for the future. Once a familiar found their witch, they often ceased to exist to the other familiars, and it was completely normal, but Phil had always hated it - always hated feeling so alone in the world while he waited to find Dan.

Now, that fear was only growing, becoming all consuming as Dan wrapped his arm around Phil’s shoulders and dragged him in, fingers tracing loving, reassuring designs into Phil’s skin. This embrace should make him feel happy, but all he could feel was anger at himself that he was making Dan hold him when his witch was feeling so grey as it was. The last thing Phil had ever wanted to do was to push Dan into something he couldn’t handle at any given point in time, but Phil didn’t have the strength to pull away or even attempt to change his form, because his heart hurt and he needed to feel human right now.

He just wanted to fit in, to have a community and people who loved him just the way he was. Phil was tired of changing, of thinking he had to be different than what he was to fit into some kind preformed box the world had created for him, be it the familiars of his world, or the movies of this world.

So when Dan nudged at him, and said that they weren’t alone, Phil opened his eyes slowly, not knowing if this was something he could truly believe.

And yet it was there, sat right on the screen, in bold letters: words and definitions, forums that made Phil’s stomach churn to even see. There were so many words, so many definitions, so many labels that Phil didn’t even want to learn, but his eyes kept flashing over people begging for help, and terms that described what Phil had been feeling for months now as Dan slowly scrolled down the page, just letting Phil’s eyes dart about everywhere as he tried to take it all in.

Ace, Aro, flux, queerplatonic, okay. Phil was okay. No one could take this away from him or invalidate him, because he was okay.

Slowly, Phil turned a wet gaze up to Dan and just stared at him.

“So I’m okay?” he whispered. “We’re okay? And you’re not - you’re not gonna wake up and want to leave me one day?”

Dan kept his gaze constantly on Phil, watching the way his eyes widened as he took in the words on Dan’s laptop screen. The shock and sheer hope on his face was enough to convince Dan that this had been the right thing to do - that Phil needed this, needed to see they weren’t the only ones. Whether they picked out definite labels or not didn’t matter, it just mattered that they weren’t alone.

Dan, too, was a little happier when he saw that they weren’t the only ones. It had never bothered him, not really, to be different, but there was a strange new comfort in seeing it in black and white.

He met Phil’s eyes and winced, because Phil really had believed there was something wrong with him, hadn’t he? He’d really believed that Dan could just decide to up and leave him one day, when the complete opposite was true. Dan tried to think of it, to think of pushing Phil out of his life, and he shuddered. The bond tugged on him endlessly, and he welcomed it. His days of loneliness were long over and he couldn’t imagine ever going back, not anymore.

“Phil,” Dan answered softly, “Of course I’m not going to leave you. When I think of my future, I think of…us. Making potions, figuring out new ways to use our magic, the look on your face when you try new food for the first time, the way it feels when I manage to make you laugh. Knowing I could turn around at any minute and you’d be right there. That’s all I want, Phil.”

He reached out to cup Phil’s cheek, gently, not leaning in, instead just holding them both together. “We’re always connected, and you’re the best person in the entire universe. Why on earth would I ever want something different to this?”

Phil was left staring and blinking at Dan, heart swelling with so much emotion, eyes prickling with more unshed tears. It was just that he’d never thought that any of this was going to happen - the confusion, the heartbreak, the fear - when he’d come to Earth. He’d just thought that everything would slot into place, and that Dan, and him, or his body, and Dan’s instincts, would tell them what to do. So far, that hadn’t happened. So far, they’d both had to muddle through this like two very confused idiots, figuring out what they wanted rather than just listening to what the world said they should - and while that was technically good, it was so much harder. So much harder, because it had left Phil with the sense that something was wrong with him, and that he wasn’t doing this right, and that one day someone who did know what they were doing would come along and steal Dan right out from under him.

But no, Dan was promising Phil that when he thought of a future, he thought of one with Phil there. He thought of things the way they were, with both men happy and content with the way things were, working together and trying new things, and always, always making each other laugh and happy and keeping each other there.

Phil was an idiot. Why had he spent so much time letting other people’s world views taint his own when Dan had always been right there, willing and ready to promise himself to Phil in every way?

“I’m scared I’m not enough,” Phil whispered, then, getting to the heart of the matter, because how could Dan promise himself to Phil when he felt like this? “I’m so scared I’m not giving you everything you need. I don’t know what’s wrong with Mara and PJ, but she scared me today because they aren’t even together anymore. What if that happens to us? I just. Can you - can we look at all this? Can you show me what you feel, and I can show you what I feel? Maybe… maybe if we understand it better I’ll feel safer…” he mumbled, trailing off, unsure.

Dan’s first instinct was to jump right in there and tell Phil that of course he was enough, of course there was nothing wrong with him and Dan could never want anything else in life. Hell, Dan hadn’t even wanted this at first, because this had been too much for him. The thought of ever wanting anything more was completely crazy.

But that wasn’t what Phil needed to hear. Phil needed something more concrete, something more definite, so he’d feel safe and sure and secure in the knowledge that he was already giving Dan everything he wanted and more. Dan could give him that.

“Of course,” he answered finally, and turned back to the laptop, pulling up the definitions sheet again. “Let’s - I know, how about this? We could both make lists, using this as a guide,” he waved a hand at the screen, “Make a list of what we want, what we would maybe be okay with, and what we definitely don’t want. Then we can compare lists and see how well we match up. Does that sound good?” He turned to Phil with a small smile, eyes focused. “It’s important that you know how much I need you.”

Phil was shaking, which he was pretty sure was silly all things considered, as Dan regarded him for a moment before turning back to his laptop with a prompt “Of course,” clicking around until he’d come back to the page full of definitions - there was an overwhelming amount of them, and the sight of them both made Phil’s insides tremble in glee and in terror that there was so much there. Already, his eyes had scanned over words and phrases that felt right, but he was still afraid that nothing was going to fit and that he was going to find out that he really wasn’t what Dan wanted, despite Dan’s reassurances that he was.

He tore terrified eyes away from the screen of Dan’s laptop as his witch suggested a way for them to feel comfortable around each other, and slowly, Phil nodded, already magicking two pads of paper and two pens out of thin air and into their hands in his haste to feel better.

“You have to write everything though,” Phil muttered. “Like. What you want every time you want something different,” he clarified, staring worriedly at the screen and trying to find that word again, just to make sure it really was real - flux. Flux. Fluxy, flux. There, there, right there. Phil’s eyes lit up, and he stifled a small noise of surprise and excitement at seeing it so clearly defined right there for him - moving in and out of a feeling at completely random intervals.

This was real, and normal, and okay, and Phil was clinging so hard to this that he thought he was going to explode.

“Terms too? Like… write down the terms you like or feel the most akin to?” he asked, biting his lip as the excitement exploded through him.

Dan stamped down on his magic before it could cause any actual damage.

Dan bit back a small smile as he felt Phil’s magic flaring, because that right there meant that Phil was beginning to get excited. Dan almost liked the way Phil’s magic would flare like that; it was such a visceral reaction and it showed him an inner part of Phil that he knew no one else got to see. It was special. Dan clamped down on the reaction, setting a cool lid over the fiery spell to keep it under control. He liked how that felt, too - how it had just become instinct to keep Phil protected and safe.

Dan took the pen and paper Phil had conjured up, drawing himself up a chart with three columns, for things he always liked, sometimes liked, and never liked. He nodded at Phil’s suggestion, adding a section at the bottom for a list of terms he identified with, or felt like described him in some way. “Good idea. We can do this.”

Things were silent for a few minutes then, as they both scribbled and read the screen, moving it up and down at intervals. Surprisingly, Dan was actually quite enjoying himself. He liked finding new ways to describe himself, to figure out the mess that was going on inside his head. This was like another step up from that, and he was finally growing to realise that there was an explanation for why he was the way he was, that there was a whole community of other people out there exactly like him and Phil.

Most importantly, this exercise should show Phil once and for all that he was always going to be exactly what Dan needed.

When Dan finally got to the end of the list, he had a sheet of paper filled with words. For the chart, he had cuddles (human and cat), ear-scratches, sharing a bed, and making Phil purr under the list of things that he always enjoyed, hugging and kissing and hand-holding under things he sometimes enjoyed, and having sex (he actually shuddered, but forced himself to write the word down anyway, because it was important) listed as the only thing that was never okay. After a moment’s thought, he added kissing with mouths open to the never list, knowing he probably wouldn’t really enjoy that, either.

As for terms he identified with, Dan had written down asexual (never feeling sexual attraction), aroflux (fluctuating between feeling romantic attraction and other types of attraction) underlined, and sex repulsion. Those were the only terms that had really grabbed him - he’d never really been a big fan of labelling himself.

He turned to Phil, holding his sheet of paper up against his chest and taking in a deep breath. “Are you ready to compare?”

So Phil was a bit of a cheater. The second that Dan gave him the go ahead that they could mark down words they liked for themselves, he glanced over at his witch’s paper to get a sense of how he was setting up, and then promptly turned back to his own to mimic him: three columns, and a block at the bottom labeled “terms.” Then he got to writing, ears tingling a slightly terrified pink now that he and Dan were no longer touching and they were about to be forced to face whether or not they were similar people. His fingers itched as he considered each of his columns, and avoided glancing at Dan’s entirely to instead focus on his own wants and needs without the pressure of wanting to copy Dan whether he felt that way or not.

In the end, his paper ended up looking like a bit of a mess.

Under “always enjoy,” Phil had written cuddles and hand-holding, both as a cat and a human, as well as bed-sharing for both human and cat (despite worrying that Dan only liked that sometimes). He’d also scribbled down ear scratches and sitting in Dan’s lap, though only in cat form as sometimes it was too intimate for him when he was human. His last note was regarding enjoying casual touches at all times, needing as he did the reassurance that Dan was there and his. Under “sometimes” Phil had hugging and kissing, sitting in Dan’s lap as a human, and food sharing, which he scribbled out and corrected as feeding each other food. He considered the column for one more second before moving on, but the last column was easy, and though he couldn’t write the word, he did put “pheromones” knowing that Dan would understand.

The terms were a bit harder. Phil penned in asexual and sex-repulsed, though the words and definition completely made him shudder, before grasping onto aroflux and fluxy, relieved when it explained why sometimes Phil loved Dan, and other times he just… loved him. The website explained it better, and Phil moved on quickly when his eyes landed on another term: queerplatonic relationship.

He didn’t have a chance to jot down the definition before Dan was turning to him, holding his sheet of paper against his chest and staring at Phil with hopeful eyes.

Slowly, Phil nodded, and he picked up his own sheet of paper and turned it to Dan.

Dan was a bit sneaky, and he cast a quick glance over Phil’s paper before turning his own around for Phil to see. Relief flooded through Dan’s chest, though, because even from that quick glance he’d gleaned enough to see that Phil agreed with him, at least about most things. Dan’s shoulders actually sagged, tension draining out of his body. He’d been more worried than he’d even realised that Phil might secretly want more out of this than Dan ever could.

That didn’t seem to be the case, though, and as Dan compared their lists side-by-side so that Phil could read them too, he actually let out a little laugh.

He and Phil agreed on almost everything. The only thing that was in a different category was hand-holding, which Phil had down as always and Dan had down as sometimes, but he was sure they could work around that. Phil had also gone into a bit more detail about sitting in Dan’s lap as a cat and a human, but Dan fully agreed with him.

The most heartbreaking thing was seeing that Phil had only written 'pheromones’ in the never column, clearly unable to even write the word sex.

Dan instantly grabbed for Phil’s hand, his greyness apparently having faded sometime during this conversation. He held Phil’s hand tight and leaned into his side, letting out another little laugh. “See? Look at that. A near-perfect match.” He turned to Phil with glimmering eyes, relief and happiness bubbling through him. Here was clear, objective proof that they were more similar than Dan had ever dared to imagine.

“I agree with you about the food, too,” Dan clarified, “Sometimes I like feeding you. But sometimes it’s a bit… much?” He grinned. “And I can deal with hand-holding, I like it usually, just if I’m very grey I might not. And we never ever have to do that… thing.” He shuddered, pointing to both their never columns. He hadn’t glanced down to the labels they’d chosen yet, too keen to analyse their opinions on actions.

Phil’s heart was fluttering along anxiously as his eyes scanned between the two sheets of paper pressed side by side only to find that most everything was the same, and a slow smile spread across his lips as he realised that yes, okay, that’s fine, everything was okay. Dan didn’t like hand-holding as much as Phil did, it seemed, but he agreed about literally everything else, other than the few things Phil had written that Dan had not. He was surprised that Dan had said sharing a bed was always okay now, though, and turned to Dan as the other male reached out to lace their fingers together, staring at Phil as he spoke.

“We don’t always have to hold hands,” Phil agreed easily, a little breathless with a new, relaxed happiness. “But - but is casual touching okay? Sometimes… sometimes I need to be human around you, even when you’re grey, and I like it when we bump shoulders, or hips, or our hands touch because it reminds me that I’m yours,” he murmured, turning his head away in embarrassment and fear that Dan would not be okay with that. It had been about three days now of Dan being grey and Phil staying in his human form, and so far it had been fine, but Phil was afraid that Dan had just never considered it before.

“Also,” he added, clearing his throat. “Bed sharing. I’m - I’m happy to do it in either form, but… there’s a difference. I know there’s a difference in how it feels when I’m a cat, and when I’m a human, so… so are you sure bed sharing is always okay with you? Because it’s okay if it’s not, it really is. I can sleep in your bed as a cat all the time and I’d be happy, or I could take the sofa on bad nights. I don’t mind,” he hastened to say, just so relieved that he was a close to perfect match for Dan in the first place.

“Casual touching is okay,” Dan agreed readily after giving it a moment’s thought. He’d be okay with that, he thought, even on grey days - he hadn’t been too freaked out with Phil being human these past few days, and on the rare occasion that he did freak out, it was because he was afraid that Phil was going to suddenly do something he didn’t want. He knew that wasn’t going to happen now, though - that Phil had no desire to do those things, either.

This exercise had been a good idea.

“I like when we bump hips or tease each other, too,” Dan confirmed, turning to Phil with a smile and lifting a hand to run his fingers gently through Phil’s hair. “And hair touching. I kind of - love touching your hair? Or your fur, when you’re a cat. It doesn’t matter how grey I am, I always love doing that. Is that kind of casual touching what you mean?”

He considered carefully what Phil had said about sharing a bed. He was right - there was a difference when he was human, and it was about time that Dan actually addressed that, and gave some thought to why he would freak out occasionally about waking up in the same bed with Phil. “I’m always happy sharing a bed with you when you’re a cat,” he said quietly after a few minutes of thinking. “I never have to worry, then. Sometimes, when you’re human…sometimes, I feel like I’m trapped?” He tried to explain it, biting his inner cheek. “It’s like - if you have arms and you’re lying on top of me, then sometimes I get scared because I can’t move? But I love holding you. And sometimes I really want to go to sleep in your arms, I just…can’t guarantee I’ll wake up like that.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I know that’s hard to deal with. I don’t want you on the sofa ever, though. I want you with me, at my side.”

Phil grinned as Dan reassured him that bumping hips was most definitely okay, that Phil could tease and annoy Dan as much as he needed when he was in human form and craving the attention and adoration of Dan in whatever form he could get it in. At the mention of hair petting, he practically mewled, humming and nearly curling into Dan, only catching himself at the last second because he knew that Dan was grey today, and Phil was not. “Yes. Yes, hair touching, and hands brushing, and shoulders pressed to shoulders. I just… I just crave some kind of reminder that you don’t hate me?” he asked, feeling dumb for having to say something like that to Dan of all people. Dan didn’t seem to mind though, actually reaching over and pressing a hand against Phil’s scalp and drawing it down his hair in one slow sweep before pulling away again with a small smile. Phil practically melted, having to shake himself to focus on what else Dan was saying.

It made sense to Phil that Dan would sometimes feel trapped if he woke up in a position they’d agreed on the night before but had fluxed from wanting it to hating it upon waking up, and couldn’t blame him at all. The few times it had happened in the last month or so since they’d started sharing a bed hadn’t even upset Phil as much as the first time, because he did understand, on some level, that Dan wasn’t rejecting him, so he squeezed Dan’s fingers in his and smiled slowly at him, nodding his head. “I can deal with that. It’s not hard at all. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by invading your space. I want to do as much as we can to avoid making you uncomfortable. If you wake up feeling different then when you went to sleep, that’s okay. I can handle that,” Phil agreed easily, because he’d never be able to say no if Dan wanted Phil to hold him before bed, regardless of whether or not he didn’t want it anymore come morning.

Besides, Dan was always understanding of Phil when Phil disagreed, despite the two of them not always feeling the same thing at the same time.

It also made him happy to hear that Dan was never going to ban him back to the sofa again, and he chuckled a little, ducking his gaze away from Dan’s.

“Besides. Since we both seem to… to not always want certain things at certain times, and we’re not always on the same page at the same time… concessions are going to be necessary anyway. I don’t want you to ever think you’re a burden to me. I just want you to always be happy.”

Dan’s grin was wide when Phil all but melted under the touch to his hair. That right there - that was what Dan loved, and it had him fluxing back to full romo mood before he even realised it. When Phil was reluctant to lean into him, Dan made the decision for him by simply curling up small and determinedly pressing himself into Phil’s chest, nudging his head against Phil’s neck.

After all, Phil wasn’t grey today, and now Dan really wanted a cuddle.

“I don’t want you to think you’re a burden to me, either,” Dan agreed with a happy little sound, feeling much more content now he was curled up against Phil. “I promise I’ll never be angry or hurt if you go grey and want to stop something suddenly. The most important thing is we’re always honest with each other, I think.” He yawned a little. “I don’t want misunderstandings to happen again, and I never want to end up like PJ and the raven.” Dan’s lips twitched down a little, and he resolved to speak to PJ about that as soon as he could get them alone.

For now, though, Phil was his main concern. Dan tilted his head up from where he was leaning into Phil’s neck, meeting his eyes with a pleading gaze. “Promise to always tell me when you go grey? And I’ll tell you too. And if I’m grey but you want to stay human, I think we could still share a bed, if we, sort of, kept our distance a bit? Like, held hands, but didn’t cuddle. Then I wouldn’t feel trapped. Would that be okay?”

Phil looked down in surprise when Dan quite suddenly curled into his body, tucking his head just under Phil’s chin, side of his head resting against Phil’s chest. The way Dan had done it had made him so much smaller looking as well, and it was cute, so cute that Phil found himself reaching around Dan to wrap his arm around his waist, just wanting to hold him, and glad that Dan seemed okay with it, had initiated it even. The warmth of him always made Phil’s heart ache when he was feeling like this - what he was coming to understand was romantic feelings that weren’t ever going to be quite as strong as the ones in romance movies and novels, but which were definitely just as real and valid. He wasn’t always going to feel like this either, but he was far from grey right now as he stared down at Dan, soft smile curling the edges of his lips.

Phil relaxed as Dan promised that he didn’t want either of them to ever feel uncomfortable, resolving that both men should tell the other when they were suddenly fluxing from one feeling to another, no matter what they were in the middle of. The second they felt uncomfortable, both Dan and Phil could tell each other and they would stop whatever they were doing in an instant. The thought of that alone was so relaxing, that Phil practically turning into mush against Dan.

He was disrupted from his position by Dan suddenly looking up at him, soft brown eyes so worried that for a second, Phil was terrified that something was wrong.

So when Dan said what he wanted to say, it made Phil chuckle and relax again. “Promise. But we don’t have to touch at all. Just because I’m human doesn’t mean that I need to be touching you at all times. I’d like to, when I’m in this form, whether I’m grey or not, just for reassurance, but I don’t need it… especially if you’re not feeling up to it. Some nights, hand holding or cuddling, they’re all fine. But it doesn’t always have to be that way. No pressure. I don’t want any pressure at all,” he murmured, smiling at Dan and hoping that he’d take Phil as seriously as Phil was taking him.

They could discuss the way they felt every night, and Phil wouldn’t even care. It would never be a burden to him.

His mind flicked back to Mara and PJ then, and something important started to settle in his belly. The way that Mara had described her feelings about PJ… well, in all honestly, they resonated deep within him, but never so much as they did when he was left staring at these terms on a laptop screen, on pieces of paper in front of him and Dan. Having these words, these labels to back him, they made Phil feel secure enough to look at Mara and realize… that maybe she was acting out because she didn’t have this security either.

Phil knew what it was like to be a familiar, knew what it was like to have someone telling you your whole life how things were meant to be, knew what it was like to find your witch and realize that things weren’t exactly that. He knew how hard it was to navigate a world a million times different than you were ever expecting it to be, and some of his anger at Mara suddenly disappeared, because he thought he understood.

Now that he understood himself, he thought he understood her, and he decided right then and there that sometime soon, he was going to help her. He was going to help her fix whatever was wrong in her relationship with PJ, and he was going to show her that the world was not black and white. Things were never going to be simple, but especially not if she and PJ kept letting the world decide for her how things were going meant to be.

Pushing those thoughts aside, and feeling better already about his friend, Phil allowed himself to move on. They could solve that later, if Mara still wanted his help.

Phil’s eyes flicked over to the “never” column then as Dan thought beside him, and he reached out to cover that word he didn’t like with his finger before focusing on the other thing Dan had said. “What’s… kissing with mouths open?” he asked.

Dan’s cheeks grew hot, and he could feel that stupid patch on his lower right cheek turning red. “Um. Kissing with mouths open, it's… it’s a thing that some couples do. Apparently it feels good? But I just - I just find it kind of gross.” He swallowed. “It’s like - like, when we kiss on the mouth, but… tongues get involved.” He held back a shudder. “I mean… if you ever wanted to try it, I guess… I guess we could always try.”

When Dan started blushing, Phil suddenly wondered if he wanted to know what tongue kissing was at all. He stared at Dan, mortified, as he started to explain how people used their tongues when they kissed each other. The very thought of it made Phil’s face crinkle in disgust, and he scrunched his nose up, shaking his head right away. “No!” he said, “I don’t need to try it. I don’t - no, that’s. That’s gross,” he complained, pulling his hand away from Dan’s paper and shoving it towards him. “No. I just like - like what we’ve done before. And sometimes, like the first time when you let me like, suck on your lip a little, but no tongue!” he complained immediately.

Dan snickered at Phil’s little disgusted noise, the laugh once again mostly from relief. He magicked the paper back onto the desk, not wanting to move from his comfortable resting place to put them down properly. While he was at it, he removed the word sex with a little flick of his fingers, burning a hole in the paper so it was completely obliterated. He kept the rest of the charts, though - a reminder that they really were perfect for each other.

“No tongue,” Dan promised, and he leaned up to Phil again with a small smile. “I can deal with the sucking thing, though. I’m really not grey anymore, in fact, so…” he leaned in close, one hand lifting up to cup Phil’s cheek, and just hovered there with his eyes meeting Phil’s. “We could practise some, if you aren’t grey too?”

That’s when Dan leaned in closer to him and cupped his cheek, promising Phil that they never had to involve tongue in their kissing at all. It was the following comment Dan made that caused Phil’s heart to stutter in his chest, though, and his breathing to hitch as he stared at Dan. He licked his lips subconsciously, surprised by the sudden movement, and glanced into very keen, very willing eyes.

“Okay,” he ended up whispering, because he most definitely wasn’t grey - far from it, in fact - and he most definitely wanted to kiss Dan right then. After all this talk, he was definitely feeling full romo. “Yeah,” he said again, the word breathy off his lips. Dan chuckled at him, and Phil could feel it against his skin. He shivered. Dan’s thumb stroked gently across his cheek.

“We don’t have to,” he reassured Phil.

“I want to,” Phil reassured him.

So they did. Slowly, both men leaned in until their lips were brushing softly, chastely, the way they’d most often kissed, though they’d done that so little that Phil was surprised by Dan’s sudden desire to try. He liked it, though, and his eyes fluttered closed automatically as he reached up to bunch his fingers lightly in Dan’s shirt. Their lips parted, and then moved back together, fluttering over each other’s gently and carefully. The feeling sent sparks of happiness through Phil’s heart, and he grinned as he tilted his head and slipped his bottom lip between both of Dan’s. Immediately, Dan was tentatively sucking at the bit of skin, causing Phil to sigh and mimic the movement, though they both got startled rather quickly and pulled apart.

“Try that again?” Dan suggested softly. Phil’s cheeks were burning when he nodded his head.

And so, they tried again, with Phil tentatively leaning back in and Dan meeting him for every movement, both of them trying and learning and exploring each other to figure out the sweet spots. Dan learned that if he took Phil’s bottom lip carefully between his own, it got Phil to melt against him, and if he ran a gentle hand through Phil’s hair as they kissed then Phil made this delightful little breathy noise.

They kissed for a long time, movements slow and careful and never hurried, never desperate. They weren’t desperate for this - instead, the actions took on a new meaning for them both. Dan allowed the love for Phil to blossom in his chest, pressing outward until he was glowing with it, glowing with the knowledge that he made Phil happy.

When eventually they drew back, it was with little looks and shy smiles and gentle giggles on both their parts. Phil immediately took Dan’s hand in his own, and Dan gave his fingers a squeeze before curling back up in his new favourite position, small against Phil’s chest with his head over Phil’s heart.

Dan’s lips were still tingling. That was definitely new. He could also feel his heart thudding away in his chest, and his palms may have been sweating a little, and this was about the most physically romantic Dan had ever felt in his entire life. He stayed still for a minute, adjusting, and waited to see if that sickening, trapped feeling would return.

It didn’t - at least, not yet. Dan would be prepared for when it did, so for now, he leaned against Phil with a low, happy sigh. “Good?” he mumbled, because apparently lots of good kissing just made him sleepy and overly affectionate, “'Cause it was good for me.”

Their lips pulled apart for the final time, and Phil’s eyes fluttered open slowly, just trying to process the moment they’d just had and the way it felt to kiss Dan like that - practicing movements to see what was okay for them and what was not, sharing a romantic intimacy that Phil knew he wouldn’t always want to share but that he’d enjoyed right then more than he could ever explain. He found himself smiling shyly at Dan, laughing quietly as he reached up to touch his lips at the same time as Dan pulled back to lay against his chest, because right then, he was most definitely in love with Dan. He always loved Dan, would always love Dan, but today, it was so much… different. His heart was fluttering away like a hummingbird in his chest, and he was warm all over in a pleasant way, little tingles running up and down his spine.

He dropped his fingers to wrap his arm around Dan, and laughed as he tucked his face into his hair.

“Definitely good,” he agreed, the sound a muffled sound of contentment. “So good. I - thank you, Dan. I think I really needed all of this, and - and you always give me exactly what I need,” he explained quietly, humming into Dan’s hair and kissing right there. He sighed, closing his eyes, and giggled again as his stomach filled with keen excitement.

“There is nothing I could ever want to change about you,” he added, and closed his eyes. “I love you.”

Dan squirmed happily in Phil’s grip, a bright smile stretching his lips wide before he even realised it was happening. Had Phil honestly said that? That he wouldn’t change Dan? Because that, that was exactly what Dan had been fearing this whole time. That some familiar would come into his life and turn it completely upside down, point out all his bad habits and force him to change, force him into things he didn’t want.

But here was Phil, saying he accepted Dan completely as he was. Shortcomings and all, and Dan knew he had many of them.

“Phil,” he said, and his voice actually cracked. He didn’t even have words for the moment, so he just turned his face up to meet Phil’s eyes and leaned in to peck him on the cheek, his fingers tightening in their hold around Phil’s. As Dan looked up at him, Dan’s eyes were filled with the most emotion he’d ever shown - he could feel himself practically wearing his love on his face.

“Phil,” he sighed again, happily, and leaned in as close as he could, just burrowing into Phil’s side to carve himself out a permanent place there. “I love you,” he mumbled against Phil’s side, and then laughed. “I love you. I never knew what those words meant, but - but I love you.”

Phil had never truly known what those words meant either. For all the familiars in his world talked about it, acted as if they knew the exact formula of how to be in love, Phil had never truly understood until he’d been with Dan. In fact, he’d never truly understood until just that moment.

“Me too,” Phil replied softly, and turned to stare up at Dan with the softest look he could manage. There were tears in his eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to love Dan forever. “Me too,” he repeated softly, and closed his eyes as he leaned in for another kiss.

Fin