#and i have so much trouble telling apart monochrome drawings

[faunabel]

anyone have any drawing tutorials who ppl who kinda suck at everything?? like idk, anything for drawing basic anatomy such as the face and the ways it can vary? also poses. these two r what i struggle with most. i can copy from reference but have no damn clue how to freestyle and i always give up quickly when my sketch looks like ASS.

[texanredrose]

Camellia Monochrome for an old friend?

Blake entered the throne room hurriedly, Weiss hardly two steps behind, and she only became more unnerved by what she saw. When the summons arrived, the faunus princess knew that it was important; her parents rarely sent an official messenger to find her and had never before specifically requested Weiss’ presence as well. It had to be something far outside the norm to prompt such and the full legion of royal guards flanking the throne room, decked out in full armor with their weapons on display. At the end of the hall on the dais, her parents sat on their thrones in full regalia, her father’s expression severe with his crown sitting low across furrowed brows while her mother appeared only slightly more at ease, her feline ears standing tall and far too still to be natural.

“Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Blake,” her father said, a heaviness to his tone. “We’ve received trouble news that may be... upsetting to hear but we believe it to be true.”

“We have diligently searched for any potential indication that there might be misinformation or falsehoods but there are none.” Her mother tilted her head slightly. “We have done our due diligence. You must listen to what we have to say.”

“Of course,” she replied, confused and uneasy.

With a heavy sigh, her father spoke again. “Your knight attendant was sent here to kill you. She’s an assassin, Blake.”

Although it probably shouldn’t, the accusation prompted relief and she couldn’t help but say the first thing that came to mind because of it. “I know that.”

In the silence that followed, one could hear a pin drop, if any dared to break it.

“You... know,” her mother finally said deliberately, ears twitching. “How long have you known?”

“Since a month after I arrived,” Weiss answered, waving off Blake’s attempt to do the talking. “I told Blake about my mission to assassinate the entire royal family when I realized I wouldn’t- and couldn’t- complete it.”

The royal guards surrounding them shifted uneasily, a few inching closer, looking to their king and queen for any sign that they should attack.

But the order didn’t come, even as her father’s expression became even more severe. “You’re bold to admit to such so openly.”

The woman shook her head. “No, for the same reason I can’t complete the mission I was charged with; it takes no courage to admit such here.” Then, she gave them a small, sad smile, the same one Blake had become rather familiar with during their time together. “All three of you... are kind, to a fault one might say. A hundred knights you have, this great show of force... but you would’ve had every right to arrest or execute me without so much as a word as to why. You didn’t do that. Because that’s not your way; you will defend yourselves but never take that first strike, even if it might save you from pain. So here we are, all truths laid bare, and a implicit understanding that if I raise my hand, your knights will react... but not a moment before.”

The King pressed his lips into a thin line. “Then, you must realize you will be banished from the kingdom-”

“Banished? For what?” Blake stepped forward, hands balling into fists. “She’s done nothing to warrant a banishment.”

“She’s literally an assassin, honey,” her mother gently said.

“A very poor one!” A pause as she turned her head. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Weiss wryly replied. “But they have a point. I’m a liability.”

“That’s not true.” Blake looked to her parents. “She told me the truth months ago; it was my decision to not tell either of you. Weiss has done nothing wrong.”

“Be that as it may, she did come here with the intent to kill us. That she’s changed her mind is... irrelevant.” Even as he said the word, she could tell her father didn’t like it and didn’t agree with the sentiment. It didn’t sit well with any of them, not when they spent so much time preaching and practicing forgiveness where applicable. “She’s an enemy of the crown.”

“I refuse to believe that.” She could feel her anger rising up, taking a step forward. “Does she not deserve a chance to redeem herself in your eyes?”

“Blake.”

With reluctance, she looked back, recognizing that tone of voice. It was the same one Weiss used whenever disagreeing so staunchly that no amount of discussion could sway her. Although a rarity nowadays, it came out whenever Blake suggested anything along the lines of reaching out to the woman’s family. Her refusal to complete the mission she’d been given had made her an enemy of her home kingdom and she could never return. There was no going back. “Weiss...”

Without responding, the woman strode forward towards the dais, stopping when the assembled knights began to fidget. Then, she knelt down and bowed her head. “I willingly submit myself to the judgment of the crown. My destiny is in your hands, Your Majesties.”

Her father shifted uncomfortably; it was always easier to enforce harsh penalties on the unrepentant because then it felt justified. Those who accepted their judgments with grace and dignity tugged at his desire to show mercy.

Her mother, however, seemed intrigued. “Your destiny? Not your fate?”

“There’s a difference?” The King muttered.

“Destiny is a function of choice; fate is beyond one’s individual control,” she replied. “And I believe you’re well read enough to know the difference.”

“I am, Your Majesty.” Weiss lifted her head and spoke with such a certainty that it made Blake hold her breath. “From the moment I met your daughter, I realized I was fated to love her and to be in love with her. My heart belongs to her completely and there’s nothing I can do to change that... nor would I want to, frankly. It is also my fate, then, to protect her from any harm; my very soul demands it.” A brief pause. “Whether or not I remain by her side... is a choice I can make. I could choose to defy your judgment and remain beside her but that would be the selfish option. Instead, I make the choice to continue loving her no matter what, no matter where I am, no matter if I ever see her again, and dedicate myself to keeping her safe from afar. If it is your decree that I am exiled, I choose to accept that destiny.”

Tears stung Blake’s eyes at the sincerity in the woman’s voice. While she’d lived all her life on the receiving end of unwavering, unconditional love, she knew Weiss hadn’t. For the woman to love so deeply- love her so deeply- touched her to the very core.

And she refused to let the declaration go unacknowledged.

Drawing her sword, Blake marched forward and walking around until she stood before Weiss, with her back to her parents. Blue eyes looked up at her questioningly but she didn’t hesitate, kneeling down and flipping the blade around, the tip of her it digging into the stone beneath them. “Draw your sword.”

“Blake-”

“Draw your sword,” she said again more forcefully, ignoring her parents’ warning.

Weiss did as asked and mirrored her position, their knuckles pressed against each other. From her forearm, Blake drew her ribbon and began winding it, entwining them together in a rite as old as her kingdom’s written history. Like marriage but more intricate, carrying more symbolism; the ribbon bound them in a way that escaped articulation but went beyond a mere promise of fidelity and support. If Weiss was fated to love her, then she would bind their souls together.

The various knights murmured their surprise but none dared interfere. Although her off hand struggled at points, the woman wordlessly offered her assistance, and together they completed the pattern.

“No matter where you are, in this world or the next, we are bound,” she said, resolute in her decision. “I love you, Weiss.”

“And I love you, Blake.” Weiss fought to keep her voice steady but failed as tears gathered in her eyes. “No matter what.”

Leaning forward, she caught the woman in a kiss. A thousand things they wanted to say had to be conveyed in the meeting of lips, for fear they might not get another chance, and when they pulled away, Blake could see so many emotions swirling in blue eyes. Despite how calmly she’d spoken before, Weiss was in pain at the thought of them being apart, just as much as her.

The King spoke, choosing his words carefully. “Have you protected her thus far from anyone aside yourself, Ser Knight?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Weiss replied. “I’ve killed seventeen assassins thus far.”

The Queen, once again, seemed keen on clarifying. “Are you counting the courtier from last week? The one who mysteriously disappeared after the feast?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty, that would be eighteen-” Then, Weiss’ eyes went wide, and Blake joined her in her surprise. Just as the woman’s mission to assassinate the royal family had been a secret, so too had Weiss’ actions to keep the royal family safe. Even Blake didn’t know the full extent of the things the woman did to take care of any threats.

“Stand down, guards, and return to your posts.”

Then, her mother appeared, a small smile on her lips as her ears relaxed. “We, perhaps, were a touch misleading earlier. We’ve known about your mission for a bit longer than Blake has.”

“You... have...”

“Mom?”

“You’ve never been shy about reminding us that you can take care of yourself,” she explained with a chuckle. “And we could tell from meeting her that she lacked the soul of an assassin. She isn’t the first sent to try and kill us, after all.”

Her father sighed in relief. “We thought you would’ve mentioned it to us; we didn’t want to bring it up first and potentially cause an argument.”

“But now that everything’s out in the open.” The Queen reached out and set her hand on theirs. “The crown recognizes your bond... and we welcome you to the family, Princess Weiss. Would you like a proper wedding as well or will the bond suffice?”

They both looked at each other as a moment of silence stretched, the situation sinking in until Weiss finally smiled widely.

“I would,” she said, a tear slipping from her eye and rolling down her cheek, the meaning of it changed entirely in a very short amount of time. “I would like nothing more than another chance to tell everyone how much I love you, Blake.”

That prompted a laugh to bubble up from her chest as it finally sunk in, relief flooding through her body. “I rather like the sound of that as well.”

---

AN: kinda a continuation from the other ask, but works well enough on its own I guess, idk, hope you enjoyed.

[paradisobound]

“Stormy” Days

Summary: Dan finds a dragon sitting on the street one afternoon and takes it in as a pet. However, a suspicious note is beside it that leaves Dan thinking about his future with the new pet...and Phil's reaction to the sudden creature.

Word Count: 4.3k 

Warnings: None 

**Read on Ao3**

A/N: This is my 3rd and final fic for the @phandomreversebang! I had a lot of fun writing this prompt and I hope you all find it just as cute too! The fic was beta read by @masoncore and the art was by @phantasticphun! I have a few more fics coming (one for phandom gives) and then my PBB fic in the fall. I hope you all have enjoyed all of the pieces from the PRB this year!

Phil had just left for the weekend, which was completely normal. Dan was used to him leaving to go to his parents and with Phil’s mum’s birthday coming up, he knew that it made sense for Phil to leave to go and visit them.

Phil had asked Dan to go, but Dan had refused this time because he was busy working on his finishing touches on his new project: a poetry book that told the story of life. It had taken, the better part of the last two years to write, so with the publishing so close, he was putting all effort possible into making it as best as he can.

But there was also a problem with this. Dan hated being home alone. He was scared of the dark, so night was especially a challenge. He’s pretty much learnt how to sleep with a light on at this point, which...he doesn’t mind all that much but he wakes up completely exhausted.

It was day two of Phil being gone, and day two of having this new sleeping routine. He wakes up completely drained, his eyes feeling cottony and a migraine beginning to take residence in his temple from exhaustion.

He swings the duvet off from his body and slowly starts to get up, stretching out his limbs that had stiffened from the tense position he had been in trying to sleep and ward off any intruders. He shuffles to the bathroom and relieves himself and then turns on the shower to a cold setting and strips down, getting inside.

The cool water feels like pricks to his skin but it works in waking him up more. He shivers a bit, and washes the cold over his face and his eyes feel less cloudy. He washes his hair and then washes down his body and steps back out, wrapping a towel around his waist and another around his head. He’s taken Phil’s habit of multiple towels as the years have gone by and Phil will pick on him. But really the jokes on both of them when they get too lazy to do the laundry and suddenly all of their towels are dirty.

When Dan walks back into the bedroom, he sits down on the edge of the bed and ruffles through the duvet for his phone because he has a bad habit of falling asleep without putting it on the chargeer. When he finds it, he unlocks it and looks over his messages and emails that are lighting up his screen.

Two are from Phil, which is unsurprising. The messages are telling Dan that he dropped his cereal in the kitchen and his mum banished him into the living room and the other one is that Martyn doesn't come down for the weekend too. So Dan just shoots back a reply and then scrolls the rest of the way through his notifications until he sees a text from Bryony asking if he wants to go out to lunch at Nando’s. He hasn’t been to Nando’s in well over two years, but at the thought he suddenly craved it and sent her back a text telling her he could.

Deciding he needed to get his ass into gear, Dan got back up and strolled to his closet. He opened the curtains and pushed them aside to see the array of black clothing on the hangers in front of him. It was almost comical actually when he looked to the left and saw Phil’s array of colors compared to his monochrome.

He goes with his normal striped sweater and a pair of black skinny jeans. He grabs a black cap and puts that on his hair to cover the unruly mop that it’s become. He needs a haircut desperately but he hasn’t made an appointment with his hairdresser. He and Phil normally do that at the same time so he’ll wait for Phil to get back home to do that.

Bryony texts him back and he calls for a taxi  and starts heading downstairs to meet it.

***

Lunch was good as always, but yet again, he never has a bad lunch with Bryony. They’ve always been close, as far back as Dan can remember. So every time he meets up with her, it’s always fun. Bryony will talk about her newest KPOP fascination and Dan will waffle on about his new obsession with The Real Housewives of Orange County, because damn it there is something about that show that just grabs him.

But now, it’s only half past one and he’s not sure what to do with the rest of his day. The weather, when he looks into the sky, looks a bit grey, but that’s normal. Although, he doesn’t want to get stuck in the rain if he decides to do something outside...which is already unlikely.

Dan folds his arms over his chest and hurries his strides down the pavement. He’s close to their flat, not too far now from the building. So he continues on his way, passing by the little shops and other apartments along the way.

As he passes by the park on his right, he hears a noise that stops him in his tracks. It sounds almost like a dog panting, but the noise also doesn’t sound like that at all. He sees a small bush of flowers down by his feet and he bends down, looking at it.

He shouldn’t look at it, he thinks, because he doesn’t know what is there. But there is someone drawing him in. Just as he peeks over the grass, his eyes come into contact with something he had never seen before.

It looked like a baby dragon, straight out a Game of Thrones episode. He stumbles back, falling on his ass on the pavement. Dan looks around, noting that no one is around and it’s like he’s the only one even in the area. That’s weird in and of itself.

It’s starts walking out from behind the bushes now, it’s little tail wobbling behind it and it’s wings extended away from its body. Its scales were blue and purple, shining quite prettily in the afternoon glow. Dan didn’t know what to do though. This felt like a weird fever dream.

Surely, dragons aren't real? They were just mythical creatures but…

Dan notices a note sitting on the pavement next to the little creature. It was a white piece of paper, but Dan could see something written on it. He picks it up, because maybe this will tell what exactly is happening with this little creature that Dan swears can’t be real and he’s seeing hallucinations.

“Be Careful of Who You Trust”

Dan read the note over and over again in his head. What could that possibly mean? That sounds like a threat...but also not like a threat. Dan’s confused. He doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t know what to do.

Does he turn this into the police? What about an animal shelter? Do places like that even take dragons? What about an exotic animal pet store?

The little creature looked up at Dan, it’s eyes so big and wide that it was almost comical. As Dan reached down, his hand extended in a gesture like a puppy to let it stuff him, it’s nostrils flared and it huffed out a puff of smoke.

Dan slowly stands back up, and backs up slightly, but the dragon waddles towards him, following him like a lost puppy. Now Dan knows he’s in trouble. What is he going to do? He stuffs the note in his pocket and looks around. There was still no one around the area.

“Hi little buddy,” Dan finds himself saying in a calm, gentle manner.

The dragon’s tail begins to swing back and forth excitedly behind it.

“Where did you come from?” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

Maybe he should just leave and call the animal shelter as soon as he gets back to his flat. But he can’t leave this animal here. That would be inhumane to do. He needs to help out the creature in any way possible. But how does one take care of a dragon?

Up until now, Dan didn’t even know they were real.

Just as Dan begins to back up again, the sound of footsteps sound down the pavement from him and he turns his head to see a woman walking his way. He has just a few seconds to make up his mind, so without thinking too much, he bends down and takes the creature in his arms and bolts towards his flat.

The creature is squirming a bit, it’s tail hitting Dan’s cheek as Dan tries to run without seeing anyone. Because how can he explain to a random person why he’s carrying a dragon in his arms?

He’s not far from his flat so getting there isn’t that much of a hassle, but as he gets out his keys from his pocket, holding the dragon in his arms like a puppy, he realizes just the situation he has gotten himself into and begins to panic.

Can he even take this creature into their flat? Can it breathe fire? Will something happen to it? Will something happen to Dan? What does he even feed it?

He lets out a sigh and looks down at the dragon. For all intents and purposes, it seems friendly really. If Dan didn’t know any better, which being real he doesn’t, he would think it was smiling at him, wagging it’s tail and flapping it’s wings.

It looked almost excited.

“What am I going to do with you?” Dan asks and the dragon stares up at him with a cocked head. Dan sighs and opens the door to the flat, and walks inside. He sets the dragon down on the floor and almost immediately, it flaps its wings and begins to try and fly.

Dan’s eyes widened and he reached out, catching it in mid-air, “Oh no! You are not flying around in here.”

The dragon seemed to huff in annoyance of being reprimanded.

Dan gently set it back on the floor and looked at it. He had no idea what he was going to do now, “Do you eat food?”

As soon as Dan says anything, he facepalms because of course the animal eats food. Every living being does. But what does this creature eat in specific?

Dan began to walk to the living room and the pitter patter of feet behind him reminded him once again that he wasn’t alone. He made it to the couch and as he sat down and reached for his laptop, the dragon flew up and landed on the couch next to Dan, curling into a ball and looking up at Dan with those big eyes.

Keeping it well within his view, he opened his laptop and googled Dragon Pet and he was shocked at the amount of websites that came up. Apparently dragons were extremely popular among people as a new form of exotic pet. According to the blog that Dan found, they require a high protein diet and lots of water. They also like sleeping in a comfortable bed at night but a lot of people claimed that they slept right on the edge of their own beds so Dan figured he could let…

Dan suddenly breaks out into a sweat because he forgot the most important part about this entire ordeal. He had to tell Phil about the dragon. What was he even going to tell Phil about it? He was going to have to tell Phil before he came home tomorrow.

Their landlord didn’t want them to have pets of any kind.

And then came the other tough part. Can you even keep this animal as a pet? Is that even feasible? He could barely handle a hamster, how can he handle a dragon that is...currently looking up at him with big eyes.

Dan turned back to his laptop, trying to ignore it’s gaze as he scrolled down the website further. They are like any normal pet really. They require vet visits and other various things. They also require walks, occasional baths, and they loved to be petted as well. Dan bit his lip and continued scrolling but found nothing else that stuck out to him.

Knowing what the thing eats now, Dan decides to google exotic pet shops around him and see if any of them would have any food for it. He would need to get food regardless if he is even going to keep this thing because it needs to eat. He can’t let it go without food.

He looks at the first website and goes to the search bar and searches for dragon food and much to his surprise, he sees that they have all kinds of options for various high protein diets for them. He clicks on a few of the different varieties of food and then checks out, putting that he would pick them up in a half hour.

Dan goes to stand up, shoving his laptop off to the side of the couch. He places his feet on the floor when he hears a little whine and he remembers that he can’t just leave. The little creature is flapping its wings and huffing through its nose and Dan doesn’t even know if he could trust to leave it alone for the whole fifteen to twenty minutes he would be gone.

But he doesn’t have a way to take it with him like one would take a dog on a walk.

Dan takes the chance and decides that it shouldn’t take him more than a half an hour so he can totally make it back before it destroys his entire flat. So he gives it one more look and a hopeful smile before grabbing his wallet and walking out the door.

***

Bag of food in hand and other various things like a “dog bed” and toys, Dan walked back to his flat as fast as he could. He looked at his phone many times to see how long it was taking him and by the time he reached the door to his flat, it said it took him approximately 27 minutes to walk there, get the stuff, and walk back. He figured it could be worse but also he was terrified to open his door in case he walked in to everything smouldering or tore to shreds.

Much to his surprise though, what was waiting on the other side wasn’t complete and total destruction, but rather a very well behaved creature sitting on the other side ofother of the door, waiting for him to walk in.

Dan was suspicious. He walked in further and the dragon followed him inside, like an actual puppy to it’s mother. Dan scoped out everything in view in his flat and noticed that nothing seemed out of place besides a pillow from the couch now sitting on their floor. He walked over to inspect it further and nope, nothing looked weird or out of place. Dan was actually relieved.

Walking to the kitchen, Dan takes the bag with the dragon’s new stuff and puts it on the floor. He pulls out the bowl for the food and then a water bowl and places it next to the counter. He pulls out the bag of high protein dragon food that sat on the bottom shelf of the pet store...much to Dan’s surprise… and opened the top, pouring its contents into the bowl. As soon as he finished, the dragon rushed over to the bowl and began to eat, it’s swings and tail moving rapidly, content.

Dan found himself smiling. Even though he has no clue what he’s doing, he still feels good knowing he’s going to take proper care of the animal. He can’t keep it, he knows that. But for the time being until he can find a place for it, he can try his best to take care of it.

Instinctively, he reaches down and pets it. Of course the texture of it’s skin is nothing like the fur of a cat or a dog. It’s rough, a bit coarse, but also has a soft feel that makes Dan want to continue feeling it.

Standing up, Dan grabs the bowl for the water and takes it to the sink, filling it up and then setting it on the floor. The dragon moves from the food to the water and laps at that as well. While the dragon is finishing that, Dan goes to the living room and sets down it’s bed and some of the toys he bought. He keeps an eye on the dragon and just as he looks into the kitchen to make sure it’s doing what it’s supposed to be, the creature flew out of the room like a bat out of hell and Dan screeched trying to catch it before it broke something.

To no avail, the creature flew from corner to corner and Dan had to just run after it and hope for the best. Tripping over the coffee table, he managed to reach out and grab onto the flying dragon just as it was zooming for another corner. He held its squirming body in his hands and took a few deep breaths.

This was going to be a rough night.

***

“Dan? Where are you?”

It was the next morning and Dan was currently laying in bed, the dragon curled next to his body. He was up most of the night, mostly because of the dragon in question not sleeping at all. Dan had also learned that the dragon had a new ability: it could definitely breathe fire. Dan learnt that the hard way after Dan woke up to the smell of burning and looked to see the dragon sitting on a burning pillow. Dan immediately threw the pillow in the sink and got the fire out before it spread, sweating at the adrenaline of having to move so fast.

But now...Phil was home, and Dan was sitting straight up in bed as he looks down at the creature and heardhears the footsteps outside of his room telling him that Phil was now walking around inside of the flat.

Dan gets up, giving the dragon one more look before heading out of the room to greet Phil, “Hey! How was the trip?”

Phil looked at Dan and smiled, “It was fun! Martyn and Corn showed up and it was fun to have the family all together for a bit. I also beat my dad at Scrabble.”

Dan just laughed.

Phil started walking into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks and turned to Dan. Dan at first didn’t know why Phil was stopping but then he remembered that food and water bowl on the floor.

“Dan...did you get a dog?” Phil asks, turning to him.

Dan bites his lip because he knows he’s going to have to tell Phil now.

“Not exactly.”

“A cat?” Phil says. “You know I’m allergic.”

“Not exactly.”

As if on cue, the dragon flew out of the bedroom and zipped past them both, landing on the island in the middle of their kitchen. The dragon sat there, panting and huffing and looking like the happiest little animal in the world.

Phil yelped and held his hand over his chest, “What is that!”

“It’s a dragon,” Dan mumbles. “I found it on the street and took it in.”

“A dragon!” Phil yells. “This is a dream. There is no way you have a dragon.”

“I haven’t named it or anything but yeah, we have a dragon.” Dan says, scratching the back of his neck.

Phil slowly walked up to the counter and lookedcounter looked down at the creature. He placed his hand out, offering his scent to the animal who just stared at him and then turned it’s head the other way away from Phil. Dan thought that was odd. The animal has been so receptive this entire time but suddenly it doesn’t even want to go near Phil, the gentlest person Dan’s ever known?

Maybe it has something to do with the note that came with it?

Dan hadn’t forgotten about the note. In fact, it’s sat in the back of his mind this entire time and he has no clue what it means. It said to beware of those he trusted but that doesn’t make any sense to him because he knows he can trust Phil. He’s not had any reason to not trust him in the long time that they’ve known each other.

“What do we do with it?” Phil asks.

“I’m not sure.”

They both look at each and then look back at the dragon sitting patiently on the counter. Dan has no clue what they even can do.

***

Over the course of the first week, Dan and Phil take turns researching the dragon and how to properly care for it. Dan even takes it on a few walks at night when he thinks people won’t be around to comment on the weird creature in a harness.

Dan’s trying not to become attached to it. But it’s slowly making it harder when he’s already came up for a name for it. Stormy. He knows that it’s a cheesy name, and also the same name as Kylie Jenner’s daughter. But the dragon’s temper was that ofthat of of a stormy nature so he thought the name fit.

Stormy also got used to sleeping next to him in bed. He feels bad that Stormy has taken the middle so now he and Phil actually don’t touch at night but Dan supposes that’s normal for a new animal.

Dan has also gotten Stormy better food, toys, and even a cute collar so he can keep track of it. He also found a vet that specifically handles dragon’s and other exotic animals and Stormy’s first appointment is in a week'sweeks time.

But Phil is adamant that they’re not keeping the dragon.

Dan kind of thought that Phil might be against it. Maybe it’s because the dragon won’t actually take to Phil. Stormy never comes to Phil for anything. Even if Phil tries to play with it, the dragon will huff and turn the other way.

However, it still catches Dan off guard when Phil turns to him one day and says, “I think I’ve found a new home for Stormy.”

Dan’s heart aches and he furrows his brows, “New home?”

“I found a special humane society that takes in dragon’s. The turn around rate for their adoption is less than a day, so Stormy will go to a good home really soon.”

“But why can’t we keep it?” Dan asks. Stormy was currently laying on his lap as they watched TV, curled up with his wings relaxed and his tail curled around him.

“Dan, be realistic. We can’t keep a dragon.”

Dan felt a bit hurt. He has grown to really like Stormy and having them as a pet. He didn’t want to get rid of Stormy unless he had an actual worry as to why he couldn’t keep them. He did all of the research. Stormy shouldn’t grow any bigger in size. Dan can even teach and train Stormy to control their flying and fire breathing.

“I’m not going to get rid of them, Phil,�� Dan says, his voice unwavering and serious.

“We can’t keep them,” Phil repeated.

Dan picked up Stormy and held him close to his chest and walked to their bedroom, shutting the door and sitting on the bed with Stormy. He wasn’t going to let Phil take Stormy away. He was going to keep them regardless.

He just hopes that Phil will understand why.

***

The note is replaying in Dan’s mind. Be careful of who you trust. Dan can feel the words bearing into his mind and he couldn’t quite move past them. He has a feeling that the note is about Phil now. The note was a future comment about Phil not wanting to keep Stormy and trying to convince Dan as well that they can’t keep them.

Dan knows why. Dan knows why Phil says that they can’t keep Stormy. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Dan has grown to really love the little creature and he’s found it hard to not think about Stormy and all he can do for the dragon during its life time.

It’s been two weeks now since Stormy first came to live with them, and Dan is sitting on the floor playing with Stormy as he plays fetch like any other pet. Phil is sitting on the couch on his laptop and Dan keeps looking up at him to see if Phil will say anything to him.

Stormy brings the ball back to Dan and Dan pets the back of their head as Stormy huffs and pants and wags their tail excitedly at being praised for doing the right thing.doing right. Dan ruffles behind their eyes and leans down, pressing a soft kiss against Stormy’s head. The dragon sticks out it’s tongue and licks against Dan’s skin and Dan giggles at the feeling of the slimy tongue against him.

“Stormy’s appointment is tomorrow, right?” Phil asks.

Dan turns to him and nods, “Yeah, their check up is tomorrow.”

“After their appointment, I found this shop next to the vet that carries dragon specific stuff. I think we should stop there and see what they have.”

Dan’s heart races a little bit as he smiles, “Are you sure?”

Phil nods and flashes him a smile, “I’d be lying if I said that Stormy hasn’t grown on me.”

Stormy huffs out a breath and Dan smiles wide.

Yeah, he was happy to have the little creature as a new family member.

[huphilpuffs]

flares

chapter: 15/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 2807 rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: a huge thank you goes to @obsessivelymoody for beta reading this for me!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

There’s only one backpack.

Dan’s been thinking about it since he wedged the last of his things into it, since he watched Phil tug the zipper shut, smiling as he did. And again since he managed to tune out Phil’s pacing and the nervous flutter it elicits in his chest.

That was yesterday. And now the bag’s sitting next to him, and Dan’s been staring at it for what feels like forever. It’s one of his old ones that he brought to uni and used once, before his bones started aching and muscles gave out and carrying it around did nothing but make his spine hurt so much he could barely move.

This, he thinks, is a far better use for it. Except for the part where he can’t stop bloody staring at it. Like it means something. Like it isn’t just Phil’s way of ensuring this isn’t too difficult on Dan’s body.

The reality of this settles even more heavily on Dan’s shoulders that the single backpack does.

He’s meeting Phil’s parents.

Dan blinks that thought away, forcing back the stupid images his mind hangs on. Like the one of sitting at the dinner table with Phil and his parents. And the one of what Phil’s childhood bedroom might look like. And the one of their clothes wedged together into a single bag, Phil’s colourful wardrobe next to Dan’s monochrome one.

Fuck.

He blinks again, and turns his focus back to Phil.

He’s still pacing.

Dan watches him, walking back and forth between the kitchen and the hallway. The blender is sitting on the sofa, and their bedroom doors are drawn closed. Phil turns on his heel by his door, and walks back to the corner of the breakfast bar for what must be the hundredth time.

Dan’s stomach twists, and he sighs. “If you don’t want to ask them–”

“No!” says Phil. He stops walking, standing awkwardly in the middle of undefined space where the lounge meets the entryway. His fringe is a little messy, a few strands curled up towards his head, as though he’s been running his fingers through it when Dan wasn’t watching. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Phil’s shoulders tense. “Nothing,” he says. And then, “I’ll tell you on the bus. We’re gonna be late.”

Dan frowns.

Phil comes over to the sofa, and it’s as though his nerves have dissipated completely. He reaches over the back cushions to draw the backpack into his arms. And then his hand lands on Dan’s shoulder.

“I’ll help you up?”

Dan nods. His palms press to the leather and his elbows quiver under his weight. Phil’s hand nothing but a soft pressure against his back as he drags himself to his feet. He’s staring, though, when Dan turns towards him.

“Are you ready?” asks Phil, a soft smile playing at his lips.

His fringe is still sticking up at odd angles, and Dan has the stupid urge to reach up and comb it aside for him.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m ready.”

---

The bus is crowded, and they end up sitting near the front with their thighs pressed together and the backpack sitting between their ankles.

Dan can already feel the rumble of the bus vibrating his bones, the bumps jerking the parts of him that would rather not move. His breath catches on a turn that has his shoulder, the sensitive part of it, pressing hard against Phil’s arm. He forces himself to exhale before Phil notices.

Except that Phil’s already noticed. His hand drifts along Dan’s leg to settle on his knee.

“You okay?”

Dan nods. “You wanted to talk?”

Phil’s brow pinches when he frowns. His hand tightens around Dan’s knee. “I– not really,’ he says. “But kind of, yeah.”

The bus drags to a stop, and Dan’s tense shoulders press too hard against the back of his seat, weak neck jerking backwards with the movement. When he blinks his vision back into focus, Phil’s watching him, free hand hovering in mid air as though he wants to reach out, hold Dan until his bones grow stable.

Dan doesn’t think about what it means that he’d let him.

His tongue feels too heavy in his mouth, and all he can say is a mumbled: “Okay?”

Phil’s responding chuckle is silent. His hand falls, twisting into the fabric of his shirt instead. “Just, um, boundaries, I guess?” he says, dipping his head forward so his fringe covers his eyes and Dan can barely catch his whispers over the buzz of the bus.

“Boundaries?”

Phil shrugs.

Dan’s heart is suddenly beating louder, heavier in his chest. He turns away, glancing at where Phil’s thumb is smoothing the wrinkles in his jeans. He tries to ignore it, forcing a smirk. “I promise to keep my clothes on in front of your parents.”

Phil squeaks. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Sounded like what you meant,” says Dan, even though it didn’t. Even though he still hasn’t calmed the racing of his heart. He forces a laugh past the pressure there, watching the way Phil’s cheeks go pink. “I’m sure your parents will appreciate it.”

“I’m sure they will,” says Phil, distant as though he’s not really sure what he’s agreeing with. “But that’s not what I meant.”

The severity in his voice settles, cold, upon Dan’s shoulders then. A whiny mumble laced with so many undertones Dan can hardly focus on, and the racing of his heart grows faster, until the inside of his chest aches with it. He glances back down at his knee, where Phil’s thumb jams hard against the jut of his bones.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “What did you mean?”

Phil shrugs again. “Just, like, I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know how okay you are with telling people when you’re in pain so I thought, maybe, if you’re comfortable telling me what you’re not okay with I could tell them, I guess?”

“Oh.” Dan swallows. His chest feels even tighter now, the pressure tense in his throat, aching against his temples. “I’m literally asking them for money, Phil, they don’t need to compromise anything for me.”

“I’m asking them for money,” says Phil, flicking his fringe out of his eyes as he looks up so Dan can see the certainty in his eyes. “And it’s not a compromise to not hug you if it’s going to hurt you, Dan, it’s being nice.”

He nods, but still, all he can say is: “Oh.”

Phil frowns. “You don’t have to, though. If you don’t want to, I mean. It’s up to you, I just thought— I don’t know, that it could help you.”

Dan nods, again.

They’re silent for a long moment after that. Dan feels the rumble of the bus beneath him, vibrating his bones until some of the pressure dissipates. He sucks in a breath when the bus draws to a stop again, letting his head sway with the vehicle. The person across the aisle from him is watching something on their phone, and Phil’s staring out the window, his skin a little more pale than usual.

Despite the tension, his hand remains on Dan’s knee.

“Hugs are okay, as long as they’re not too tight and not over my arms,” he blurts.

Phil jumps, but he’s smiling when he turns around.

“I think I can eat most things now, except things that are sharp around the edges like crisps,” Dan adds. “I’m not good at walking around, but most sitting activities should be okay for a day. My neck gets weak, though, so I might need to lay down or, like, rest against the couch or something, you know?”

Phil nods.

“Oh, and I don’t like people touching my neck, especially the back of it. It– it hurts.”

“Okay,” says Phil.

His smile’s grown wider, and Dan tries not to dwell on how it makes him smile, too.

“And my insomnia tends to keep me up at night, so I usually sleep through the morning,” he says, sinking back against the seat only to remember it’s unyielding and aches where it presses against his bones. “That’s all.”

Phil stares at him for a long moment, something silently thoughtful in his gaze. Dan realizes his cheeks are hot, and Phil’s thumb is tracing circles against his knee again.

“I’ll tell them,” says Phil.

He pulls out his phone and texts them with one hand.

---

Phil carries the backpack when they get to the Lesters.

He’s smiling a little too wide, and walks around the car to help Dan out of the cab. Their fingers lace together and Dan’s heart tightens, gaze flicking over the front door of Phil’s parents’ house. The importance of it all has settled, heavy and painful, in his bones.

Phil squeezes his hand, and Dan realizes how tightly he’d been clutching Phil’s fingers.

“You okay?”

Dan nods. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks. “Asking them? I don’t want to cause trouble or anything.”

Phil frowns, and squeezes his hand again. “I don’t want you to have to move out,” he says, like that would have anyone bringing their sort of new roommate to their parents house to ask for money. “And they’re good at helping me when I need it. Too good at it sometimes.”

“Oh,” says Dan. He wants to add but you don’t need it, I do, but Phil’s staring at him like he really doesn’t want Dan to protest anymore.

He’s still gripping, tight, at Dan’s hand.

“Yeah,” says Phil. He shrugs, and lets their hands fall apart. “You ready?”

Dan swallows, stepping away from the cab and bumping the door closed with his hip. It only takes a moment for the car to drive away, and when he turns back to Phil. he’s smiling. They don’t say another word before Phil’s walking towards the door. Dan follows, head dipped, staring at the backpack.

Phil knocks once before his mum opens the door, so quick Dan’s sure she was waiting on the other side.

Her arms are already open, drawing him into a hug with a happy hello. Her face is a lot like Phil’s, he notices, a little more creased with age, a little rounder. She smiles a little wider than Phil does, but her eyes are the same mixture of shades, and crinkle with joy in the same way.

For a moment, Dan thinks of his own mum. Of how she hugs him when they reunite, before the misunderstandings and pain can come between them.

Phil pulls away from his mum and slips inside, leaving Dan standing on the doorstep with her.

“Hi,” he says, a mumble.

She’s still smiling. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh,” says Dan, before reminding himself it’s a stupid response. “You too.”

She glances at the door, where Phil’s staring at the floor again, and back to him. “Phil told me you’re okay with hugs, as long as they’re not too tight?”

Dan nods.

“Can I?”

Another nod, and then Mrs. Lester is reaching out, wrapping her arms loosely around Dan’s middle. He hugs her shoulders, staring at Phil over the top of her head. She’s gentle, and warm, and. It feels like a mother’s hug.

Dan’s throat is tight when he pulls away, and Kath motions for him to step inside.

Phil’s father’s standing there. He holds a hand out. “Nigel,” he offers. “It’s good to meet you.”

Dan takes his hand. “Dan,” he returns. “And you too.”

The handshake is loose, not the strong kind Dan would expect of his own father, or that his father would expect of him. It’s strangely comfortable. Dan has to swallow against a lump in his throat when he turns away and his eyes find the happiness spread across Phil’s face.

“We’re having soup for dinner,” says Mrs. Lester. “I, uh, thought that would be a dish everyone could enjoy.”

He can feel the words she isn't saying. The Phil told me you were having trouble swallowing, so I made something for you, that’s shining in her eyes the way quiet support so often gleams in Phil’s. It’s her blender sitting on their kitchen counter, her son who’s so good at trying to make sure Dan’s okay.

He smiles at her. “That sounds great,” he says. “Thank you.”

The easy accomodation is warm across his skin when Phil reaches out, rests a hand on Dan’s elbow, and leads him to the lounge.

---

The house smells of homemade soup and clean blankets.

Dan’s settled on the sofa, and Phil’s taken the spot next to him. Mr. Lester is sitting across the room in an armchair that looks worn and lived in, the newspaper resting on the end table next to him. Mrs. Lester, after checking on the food, comes and sits down in the empty space on Dan’s other side.

He tries to keep his spine straight and his head from bobbing on his shoulders. His feet stay firmly on the ground, even when they start to tingle with numbness.

Dan wonders if Phil’s parents know why they’re here, and how much Phil’s told them. If they know about the job he no longer has or the law degree he’ll probably never get or the way their son keeps offering him help even when Dan’s not entirely sure he deserves it.

He waits, focusing on not fidgeting, for them to blurt out something deprecating about how he shouldn’t need financial support from his flatmate’s parents.

But Mrs. Lester just smiles and says: “You’re from the south, aren’t you?”

Dan almost jumps in surprise, and Phil’s fingers brush against his hip like a silent I told you they’d be nice.

“Yeah,” he says. “Wokingham, near Reading.”

She nods.

“Do you miss it down there?” asks Mr. Lester.

“Not really,” says Dan. He glances at Phil, wondering, again, if his parents even know why they came out to Rawtenstall. “I like it better up here. I’ve made some good friends, and the city’s really nice.”

“So Manchester’s been treating you well?” asks Mrs. Lester.

It’s small talk, Dan knows. But he feels himself smiling, sinking a little more comfortably into the Lesters’ sofa. “Better than I could’ve expected,” he says.

Phil’s knuckles press against his hip again.

“And having Phil as a flatmate?” asks Nigel.

Dan swallows. “It’s been good,” he says. “Really good. We have a lot, uh, in common.”

It feels like an understatement. Dan feels his cheeks go pink at the thought of all the thinks he could say, but doesn’t. All the days Phil’s sat by his side in a dark room just to keep him company through the pain. The smoothies and easy meals and constant support. The soft touches and warm voice counting Dan’s breaths for him when his mind is too distracted by agony to do it himself.

He swallows. Mr. Lester’s smiling at him.

“Good,” says Mrs. Lester. “We were a little worried when Phil set out to find a flatmate. It’s good to know you guys are friends.”

Dan nods. “Yeah,” he says, instead of another mumbled oh.

When he turns to glance at Phil, his gaze has fallen to his polka dot socks, and his cheeks have gone pink. Dan makes a mental note to find out what his mum means by that, just as Phil’s hand drifts from his hip to brush along his thigh. It feels like a request, a don’t ask about it now, please, so he turns back to Mrs. Lester.

“Thank you, by the way,” he says, “for having us.”

“It’s our pleasure, Dan,” says Mrs. Lester. Dan wonders how anyone’s smile can look so sincere.

He smiles back at her. “Still, I appreciate it a lot,” he says. “I’m sorry we have to spend the night–”

She waves her hand before he can finish. “It’s really not a problem, Dan,” she says. “We always want to see Phil, and having you here, I’m sure, will be great.”

Dan swallows. “Oh,” he hears himself say, again.

Next to him, Phil’s hand drifts again, up his leg to brush at his hip again. It’s silent and comforting and where his parents probably can’t see, and Dan tries not to focus on how much he would have missed the simple touches if Phil had set different boundaries around his parents.

Boundaries. Like gentle hugs and soup for dinner, and Dan feels warmth seep into his chest at the thought.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lester,” he says.

He’s not talking about letting him stay in her home anymore, isn’t even sure that she could understand why he needs to thank her without knowing about everything that came before this moment.

But she doesn’t seem to care. She simply reaches over, sets a careful hand on Dan’s shoulder.

“Call me Kath, Dan,” is all she says.

[tornrose24]

‘Just need to vent’ A oneshot for artistcaptainbendy’s Bendypants AU

In which Harold has some things on his mind during his adventures in the studio and talks to an unlikely individual willing to listen to him.

Thought I’d write something for @artistcaptainbendy for their Bendypants AU. I don’t know what the full story is for their au, so most of this involves lots of guesswork. (And some based of what I learned from them). Also, I figured that in the original Bendy and the Ink Machine (which belongs to the Meatly), the cartoons were made in the 1930’s, so the time skip of 30 years would lead to the 1960’s. I did that for this one-shot, so a lot of what Harold is angry about reflects what went on during that time.

Trapped somewhere within the studio walls, away from the sun and the only scent in the air was that of ink and wood. That was how Harold felt at times when he wasn’t trying to solve the mysteries of whatever was going on.

Mysteries that were borne from childhood dreams between him and George.

George wanted this studio to become a reality as badly as Harold did once upon a time... then... Well, it wasn’t fun to dwell on what happened whenever Harold recalled what caused the two to finally separate.

Harold was pretty sure that their old elementary school principal felt like he owned the whole Earth when he heard the news. He could hear the old jerk crying tears of joy when he thought no one was looking. It made Harold want to go back and punch him in that oddly shaped nose of his–he’d deserved it for that and more.

Harold paused in his card game to look at his opponent–the one who saved him from a twisted version of his and George’s favorite creation and who looked identical to that same principal. They created Krupp as a joke–the big bad wolf to Bendypants’ red riding hood–but somewhere he mellowed out and the two became friends, possibly through wishful thinking on their creators’ part. Now? He was Harold’s mostly silent savior who treated the man as if he were an old friend, rather than an annoying brat or an enemy to Bendypants. As if the drawings he made came to life... as if what happened earlier–

Don’t think about upstairs. Harold firmly reminded himself. Don’t think about seeing him on that contraption with his ribcage busted wide open like–

He heard a tapping noise and saw that Krupp was tapping a finger on the table with an annoyed look on his face. That habit was familiar to Harold, because it was one of their principal’s habits when he didn’t realize he was doing it. If Krupp talked, he could bet his last paycheck that he’d say something with the word ‘bub’ involved. Just like that mean old principal from way back when... God, if only Harold could go back as an adult to revisit him. What kinds of things would that man have said, not realizing who the blonde really was? Was Principal Krupp even still around, or did bad habits finally do him in?

“Sorry, pal.” Harold let out a weak laugh and set the cards down. “I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

The finger tapping stopped but the look on the face didn’t change... wait... there was something... child like about it. Like a child waiting for their parent to do something... it reminded him of his twins.

Owen... Kai...

“You like kids?” Harold asked. When the wolfman didn’t respond, he continued. “Billy and I have Owen and Kai–they love you guys and all your cartoon shorts. Every time a new one comes out, they insist on going to see it–they’d practically pull our arms off trying to get to the television or the theater!” He grinned as he thought of something that gave him a familiarity–that could make him smile in this house of mangled dreams.

“They look so identical that you almost can’t tell them apart. They like to take advantage of that with their friends, or when one of them gets in trouble. One time Kai broke an expensive plate and I had to send her up to her room... but then Owen took her place instead and when I found out why, it was because he suggested to have that ball game in the house and he felt so guilty.” He shook his head. “It was like something George and I would have–” He stopped.

“We can’t even tell anyone that we’re both their dads.” He bitterly recounted instead. “People just hate the idea of two men raising a bunch of kids together, let alone two guys or two girls loving each other. Billy already had to deal with a bunch of stuff just for being an Asian living in America during the 40’s and he–it almost makes me wish I could just go back to those more simplistic times, you know?” He scoffed. “That’s what we get for living in a post World War II–they think they can just sweep everything under the rug in their boring matching houses and their stupid ‘American Dreams’ of girls becoming housewives and boys becoming big shots like it’s all grand. Like America isn’t still dealing with all the racial tension–you have no idea how lucky George and I were to live where we did, but then you get that one guy who has the nerve to think that I should do better when it comes to choosing friends–”

There was a long pause.

Stuff like this raised too many questions. Like what was going on through adult’s heads when it came to his and George’s friendship? What horrors did George deal with that childhood fun and games couldn’t protect them from? Was their principal also among those idiotic, cruel minded folks who thought they were superior through their ‘normal’ preferences or their ‘normal’ body type? God, it sickened him sometimes. He almost wished things were as easy as in the cartoons and comic books–

No, none of that was important.

“I need to go back.” Harold gave Krupp a pointed, pained look. “I want to go back to the old times, but I need to be with my family. I don’t know what’s going on anymore, but I just want to be back where I know I’m needed.” Harold held his face in his hands. “The outside world is all kinds of awful, but I need to be where I know I’m needed. I want to give them my love and tell them that I don’t care who they are or who they want to become–I’m going to love them to death, even when I’m angry at them or if I ever finding myself scowling at nothing in particular.”

He heard a whining sound–a sympathetic whining sound.

Then seconds later without warning, Harold felt someone hugging him. Krupp was hugging him, he realized when he lifted his head.

He could never imagine the inspiration behind this character ever hugging him. He and George once jokingly said that perhaps this version might. Now another impossible thing became a reality.

Harold returned the hug, and the hold of the character only tightened up in a way that felt comforting. He felt the build up of that fear and bitterness vanish away through the hug.

For one moment, he could imagine that little ten year old boy being hugged by this character, as if he were a genuine father that Harold wanted more than anything. For another moment, he could imagine that same child trying to hug that principal to death as if that could have magically made him a happier individual because if hugs held this much power, then he would have hugged that man constantly until that scowl could turn into a genuine smile and he’d let out genuine laughter instead of villainous crackling. He could have hugged George every day so that he’d know that he was never going to abandon him as a friend, even if something were to keep them apart.

He was going to hug his kids to near death, as well as his Billy (well, hugging and kissing for his Billy) when he got home. They deserved all the comfort in the world. If he found George, he’d probably hug him too–hug out whatever his best friend was going through if it were bad.

Harold let out a genuine laugh and smiled before patting the top of the monochrome colored character’s head. “Thanks pal.”

He heard Krupp let out a reassuring growl, but that ten year old buried deep within Harold interpreted it as “You’re welcome, bub. Now never talk about this to anyone or else.”