#summer.docx

[wondernoise]

a love letter to the sun

Relationships: Phil/Missa (QPR Edition), with mentions of Chayanne and Tallulah.

Additional Tags: Queerplatonic Relationships, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, vaguely, Reaper Ángel Missael Castañeda Vega | MissaSinfonia, also vaguely but the intention is there, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Chayanne (QSMP), Mentioned Tallulah (QSMP)

~

It’s a bit past three in the morning when Missa slips into the house. 

It was mid-afternoon when he left the server he’d been working for the past few weeks, and he knows the time difference is going to kill him – maybe he can sweet-talk his way into sleeping in shifts with Phil until he gets used to when the sun rises and falls here. 

But right now he’s just coming home and crawling into bed with his little family, as quietly as is possible when his opponent is the heavy-ass security door Phil had installed for Chayanne’s sake. He thinks he’s managed it, but when he glances back towards the bed, he sees Phil shift in that eerie way he does that means he’s woken up enough to assess Missa as a threat before the door has even clicked all the way shut.

He still looks asleep, though, one wing splayed out across Missa’s spot on the bed and the other hanging off onto the floor. Missa chuckles at the sight, stepping across the narrow base to tuck Phil’s hair back behind his ear. “I’m home,” he greets in a whisper.

Phil mumbles something incoherent and turns to shove his face in the pillow. Missa closes his eyes, reaches deep into his heart, and tells himself Phil meant “welcome home”.

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[60wattbulb]

dawn star

posting concept fics at 1AM and other inadvisable decisions, a novel by summer

Summary: Techno reflects on his past while waiting for a meeting.  CWs: Dehumanization (in the first half).

also on AO3 here!

Techno really, really hates multi-night group jobs.

He still takes them, because the pay is good and they’re free transportation to a new city when he’s thoroughly terrified everyone in the current one. But.

“Why the fuck did we get stuck with him?”

“Did you see him earlier against those raiders? None of us even got out of the cart and they were dead.”

“He’s still got blood on his face, he doesn’t even care.”

Techno scrubs absently at his cheek, gaze fixed stubbornly on the middle distance.

But he hates them. Because he’s sixteen, and apparently that makes him a child, and if he shows a hint of a flaw then they’re all on top of him squawking about how unqualified he is. And then when he does his job right, he gets this nonsense.

“Of course he’s taking first watch. How are we meant to sleep like this? What’s he planning to do while we’re out?”

“Think he’ll try to kill us to keep the payout?”

“Nah, he’ll do it ‘cause he got bored.”

Techno snorts and gets to his feet, turning to the group. “I’m going hunting,” he tells them. “I’ll be back by morning. Someone else will have to take watch.”

Someone (he doesn’t know the girl’s name, he doesn’t bother learning anyone’s name) begins to voice a complaint, but he cuts her off. “Sorry I’m keeping someone from getting sleep. Good luck working it out.” He slings his sword back over his shoulder and starts to walk away from camp.

“He doesn’t even need sleep?” someone else asks in a stage-whisper, and Techno starts running instead.

~

“Phil.”

“Phil, please wake up.”

“Phil, the meeting is in fifteen minutes and we are making a terrible impression.”

Techno does his best to fix Phil with his most authoritative glare. Phil, for his part, snorts and nuzzles his face into Techno’s shoulder, leaning even more of his weight against Techno’s side.

See, this is why Techno struggles so badly with Phil. Because Phil has never once been afraid of him. Annoyed with him, sure, thought he was being an idiot, but never scared to tell him so. And he hasn’t once hesitated to touch Techno, throw an arm around him or grab his wrist to show him something.

And here he is, passed out on Techno’s shoulder in the middle of enemy territory fourteen minutes before a very important trade meeting. Snoring away without a care in the world, as if he’s entirely convinced that not only would Techno never hurt him, but that Techno will keep him safe while he sleeps. 

This is why Techno, despite all the obvious reasons he shouldn’t, is struggling so hard not to fall in love with Phil. Because he’s warm and vulnerable against Techno’s side and he’s never once been afraid that leaving himself open around Techno will get him hurt.

“Phil,” Techno says under his breath, “if you keep making cute faces like that around me, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Phil dozes on. Techno may have to miss the meeting.

[nextlevelsummercamps]

Summer dance camp is an exciting part of a touch dancer’s development. Little dancers get to satisfy many other students who share their love of dance and work with some fab teachers, while simultaneously learning to become a touch more independent. It’s an incredible experience and thanks to spending a summer.

[lokilickedme]

WIP Name Game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

*I was tagged by @devikafernando - thanks, I love these...sorry I have so many lol :D*

DRAFTS ON MY COMPUTER

1.  John.docx - OC and OFC with Can Yaman as faceclaim

2.  Strada2 - sequel to Here And There, The Strada Series Book 1 feat. Baltho & Keene (Tom Hiddleston and David Gandy)

3.  TMC4 - book 4 of The McClary Chronicles (Molly & King)

4.  Addendum.docx - The Carmichael Addendum (OFC, Tom Hiddleston, David Gandy, and Jason Momoa)

5.  Summer.docx - Henry Cavill (villain) and Jason Momoa (antihero)

6.  Trickster Tales - collection of Loki short stories to be released early 2019

7.  OMGWTF.docx - I don’t even know what this is, I’d have to open it and see and I’m afraid to

8.  chembook2 - Chemical Volume 2, soon to be released

9.  Eidos.docx - Tom Hiddleston cyberpunk AU

AO3 DRAFTS (some of these were started more than 2 years ago)

10.  BD - sequel to Body Double (oneshot) Tom Hiddleston

11.  A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - a Chemical prehistory featuring Chem!Tom and Maggie the other pub owner

12.  The Liar - Loki fic

13.  Dia Laisir - Loki/McClary Chronicles crossover

14.  CHEM/JM - random leftover stuff from Chemical that didn’t make it into the story, plus upcoming stuff for Jack Montague

15.  Rage Of The King - a Black Dagger Brotherhood fic featuring Wrath and V

16.  May Death Find You Alive - Kong Skull Island fic for @purple-daisies-love

17.  Una In Perpetuum - Loki x Topaz smutfic (oneshot, self dare just cuz I can)

18.  The King Of All The Rest - sequel to The Trickster’s Wife, for @prplprincez

CURRENT OPEN WIPS @ AO3 (all ongoing)

The Girl Next Door - Pasha x Kiran Hammer Of The Gods - Jake x Tate + Pete Aingeal Ard - King x Molly Sunflower - Tommy x Chloe Jack Montague - Loki x Jack + Thor + Adam

Everything else at AO3 I consider either completed or as complete as I care to make them for now.

tagging @elvenfair1, @prplprincez, @fictions-stranger, @chocolategate, @nightcrawler0213

That’s all I can think of tonight because I’m tired af...have fun

[wondernoise]

walls far enough apart (to keep us out of the dark)

Summary: Phil and his kids spend a snowy day in. (Written for the MCYTblr Holiday Exchange. Title from December '04 by the Oh Hellos.) Word Count: 1090 words Additional Tags/Warnings: Canon compliant, family fluff fic. Author’s Note: Written for @in-the-abyss for the @mcytblrholidayexchange! Hope you like it :D

~

Wintertime, as a concept, just really isn’t working out for Phil’s kids.

Phil’s never really had a problem with the cold, obviously, wouldn’t have survived all those years out in Antarctica if he couldn’t tolerate it, but Chayanne can’t stand to be in the snow too long after being stuck in it on Egg Island, and the cold air irritates Tallulah’s lungs and keeps triggering asthma attacks. So when the snow finally comes down on Spawn and over the wall like a blanket overnight – and Phil’s convinced it’s got to be fake Federation snow, because they never get weather out here – they’re more or less relegated to either the Nest, which is far enough southeast that it doesn’t get hit by Federation bullshit, or to the bunker.

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[wondernoise]

how we reach through the dark

Summary: Tallulah tries something new to reach out to her dad and causes several catastrophic issues, in the Soot family way. (Based off an offhand theory from Bad regarding the Purgatory cinematic. Title from "We Evaporate" by the Family Crest.) Word Count: 1144 words Additional Tags/Warnings: Very brief self-injury mention. Alternate canon fic. Author's Note: Pinch hit for @azhamdrety for the @mcyt-halloween exchange! Hope you like it :D

~

There’s not really anywhere in the bunker that’s actually completely dark. 

It’s not safe for it to be dark, it lets monsters appear out of the shadows and Phil would be so upset if something happened while Chayanne and Tallulah were asleep. Tallulah gets that, she does. But she wishes she could find a dark corner now, if only because she wants a little privacy before she goes through with this.

She’s got a black magic book she borrowed from Dapper in one hand, and in the other a trowel. She’d reinforced the moss in the crop garden herself, so it’s easy enough to copy the symbols out of the book by carving them into the moss. It’s also a little brighter here in the garden than in the storage room adjacent, lit by the moon and the stars outside the window. Dapper had been a little confused when she borrowed the book, and Chayanne had teased her about finally accepting her fate as a member of the most emo family on the island, but no one had bothered her too much about it, which was nice.

Because Tallulah knows she’s being silly, and that what she’s trying is silly, and she’s embarrassed enough about it without someone bringing it up. 

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[wondernoise]

and love you shall find, ch. 1

Summary: Wilbur Soot, wizard and conman by trade, makes his life out of boardinghouses and the pockets of strangers at galas he hasn’t been invited to. He doesn’t keep still, he doesn’t remain attached, and it’s a rare occasion that he remembers to contact his father for anything beyond shopping lists of spell components. It’s a lifestyle he’s completely happy with.

Until mysteriously swapped packages leaves his soul — and those of nearly everyone he knows — suddenly and irrevocably bound to stolen baby dragons, sweeping them all up in a bitter struggle for power over the lands they call home and forcing Wilbur back to roost with Phil and Missa. Wilbur truly just wants Tallulah to be able to live and play music in peace, but with the secrets she seems to be keeping from him, the stranger reaching for the revivification spells Phil and Missa have wound from nothing, and crown prince Quackity’s attention on Wilbur and his daughter both, he may have to put everything he believes about himself and his family on the line to achieve it. Relationships: Wilbur & Tallulah & Quackity, as well as their family dynamic with Phil, Missa, and Chayanne. Queerplatonic deathduo. Also generalized QSMP Ensemble and their eggs, and a few hints of spiderbit :) Chapter Word Count: 5083 words A/N: my piece for @mcytblraufest! check out the gorgeous character designs by @ghostsgone-art as well, and many thanks to spencer and to @echotunes for the beta work!

~

Wilbur Soot is a dying man.

He knows it. The pounding in his head, which sends the lobby of the boardinghouse spinning with each pulse of agony, can’t mean anything less. It had finally defeated him halfway up the stairs to his room, leaving him curled limply against the railing. What a pitiful way to go—but he no longer has the energy to flee death’s jaws.

Against his temple, the rhythmic thump-thump of someone coming down the stairs. The landlady, unimpressed: “Enjoyed ourselves again last night, didn’t we?”

Wilbur opens his eyes enough to give her his most pitiful look, up from under his bangs. “I believe I’ve been poisoned, Miss,” he tells her. “Please, make sure my body gets home to my father.”

But he’s boarded here several times over the past decade—since he was a student—and had long since burned through all of her sympathy. “If you make a mess of my stairs you’ll be cleaning it yourself,” she informs him sternly, and then she’s gone. Wilbur exhales and lets his head fall back against the banister. He’s not going to make a mess. That was the point of sitting down until he was less dizzy. 

He’s not sure where his guitar went. Hopefully it’s safe in his room. If he left her at the home of the friend he made last night, he’ll never see her again. But the small red gem he’d nicked from an upstairs display case while the revelry was at its peak is still burning a hole in his pocket. Never let it be said he doesn’t return on investments. 

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[wondernoise]

puppet show

Summary: This is the end of Las Nevadas, and the evil has won, and you are laying in a crater looking up at the sky. (A short fic from the perspective of one of the Slimecicle clones from "The End of Las Nevadas".) Word Count: 1020 words Additional Tags/Warnings: POV Character Death/Major Injury (though it's all slime), Canon Compliant Author's Notes: Gift for @vindixator for the @mcyt-halloween exchange! I hope you like it :D

You look up at the sky.

This is the first time that you have ever looked up at the sky, at least as long as you can remember. Surely, you think, you must have seen it before, but did you understand? How empty and dark the night can be when the lights around you are bright enough to blot out the stars? Did you know why it was so dark? Did it matter?

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[wondernoise]

and love you shall find, ch. 4

Chapter Summary: The dragons meet new family. Chayanne and Tallulah have an outing. Chapter Word Count: 6881 words A/N: For @mcytblraufest! Art by the lovely @ghosts-gone can be found here!

~

Wilbur wakes up the next morning feeling like he’s barely slept. He doesn’t remember waking for a nightmare from Tallulah, nor at any point after drifting off during the meeting, so by all accounts he should feel better after catching up, but it’s all he can do to drag himself out of bed instead of sleeping in a while longer.

It’s not fair to foist Tallulah off on Phil completely, though. Even though she seems to be keeping herself occupied just fine—or Chayanne is keeping her occupied, as evidenced by the odd assortment of padlocks scattered between them at the kitchen table when Wilbur comes down the stairs. 

She perks up when she spots him, giving him a wave. At least she seems to have slept alright.

“Good morning, you two,” Wilbur greets drowsily. Missa appears suddenly to his left, startling him, and holds out a mug of coffee. 

“Oh, you’re a saint,” Wilbur says, taking it gratefully. Missa laughs.

“Good morning! Phil was up late, so I made it for both of you,” he says. “Chayanne is teaching Tallulah how to pick locks.”

Wilbur nods slowly, visualizing the talks he’d had with Tallulah about leaving the larceny up to the adults going up in smoke. “Phil taught that to him in the first week, didn’t he?”

“He says it’s a life skill,” Missa replies, with the conspiratorial tone that means you and I both know what Phil is like. 

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[wondernoise]

and love you shall find, ch. 3

Chapter Summary: Wilbur and Tallulah make it to Phil's house and meet new friends. Chayanne has a confession. Chapter Word Count: 7008 words A/N: For @mcytblraufest! Find the gorgeous art for this chapter by @ghostsgone-art here!

~

True to his word, Quackity does give Wilbur time to think.

Wilbur hardly sees him for the remainder of the train ride—not that that’s particularly difficult to achieve, with Wilbur and Tallulah hiding inside the sleeper car for as much of the remaining time as they can manage. Tallulah, especially, isn’t interested in venturing out at all. She seems particularly exhausted by Quackity’s appearance earlier, and Wilbur can’t say he doesn’t understand. They spend much of the time on the train napping, in between practicing Tallulah’s letters and trying to get notation down for her new recorder song—she’s up to two now.

She takes to all of it faster than any kid her age probably should, which is convenient as much as it is startling. It’s odd to watch her fly through writing letters she was struggling with the day before, even if he knows she’s likely drawing off his memory to do it. They make a game out of Tallulah using a new notebook page to list the word for every new thing she spots out the train window when she wakes before Wilbur does, and trying to draw the things she doesn’t yet have the words or the letters for.

At the end of the second evening, she pulls away from Wilbur to write something without his help. He lets her go, picking up his own journal while he waits. 

She returns to him some time later with a message written in shaky, careful lettering: it’s ok if you do scary things. i love you anyway and you love me.

And Wilbur has nothing to say to that, so he just pulls her into a hug. She folds into his arms willingly, pressing against him, and Wilbur keeps his mouth shut so he can’t argue about her about where she should feel safe.

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[wondernoise]

and love you shall find, ch. 2

Chapter Summary: Wilbur and Tallulah ride the train. Chapter Word Count: 6604 words A/N: For @mcytblraufest! Find the gorgeous art for this chapter by @ghostsgone-art here!

~

It’s dark and cold and too cramped to move, and she’s alone. 

There’s nothing here but the singing, all her siblings in unison a chorus of don’t don’t don’t please as their oldest speaks to the green-eyed wizard who’s been taking care of his father. He’s terrified. They’re all terrified. He’s terrified, but it’s terror and guilt and a finality that sits in her core like something rotting as she listens.

This is the first thing she knows—there’s nothing but this. Nothing but the green-eyed wizard, gaze sad, voice soft, saying, “You know why I have to do this,” and their oldest nodding along and her brother, their knight, screaming with a fury that can do nothing but make her shrink closer to the walls. 

It’s a sad, rotten thing. But she understands, watching their oldest sibling follow. It has to be done—he didn’t mean for this, didn’t mean for any of this, and he loves his father too dearly to let it continue. She understands because she has nothing else to compare it to, not like the others do.

The first thing she learns is that love is a thing you die for.

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[60wattbulb]

If there's one thing that I love about fandom is the passionate ways that people describe their favorite tropes

Basically, please say more because I'm actually intrigued with the fooleret concept (or techza but it's easier for me with them opposed to fooleret).

SO GLAD YOU ASKED.

under a cut bc this got LONG

like. okay. this one is like four different tropes in one bc the appeal to fooleret is just as much “foolish pining after someone that doesn’t remember him and their history” as anything else, right? right.

so like. childhood friends fooleret. completely inseparable rough-and-tumble playground buddies. eret was the one with all the terrible ideas (“let’s sneak into so-and-so’s garden and take some flowers, she won’t notice”) and foolish was the one getting them into trouble by, say, falling off the fence while climbing over it and crushing the prized rose bush. did everything together, told each other everything, ring pop proposals type of thing.

and then one day foolish shows up at eret’s house to play and all the windows are dark. the whole family just up and vanished, overnight, and nobody knows where they went.

now foolish is like, 18, and studying computers, and scrolling absently through the news between classes and sees an article that the museum downtown got robbed of that necklace that they put on display, the one that’s been missing for some two hundred years — and now that foolish thinks about it, yeah, he remembers they got a calling card from a thief, a brazen declaration that it would be stolen out from under everyone’s noses, but he didn’t pay it much mind.

guess he should have, because he’s watching the videos from the scene now and the thief broke past all the security systems, the police line, all of it, and got to the necklace, and nobody had any idea that it happened until they were standing on the roof in full elaborate costume, holding it up to the news helicopter. and the image of their face, even though it’s hidden beneath a mask... that is definitely eret. they’re taller now, sure, and their voice is waaay deeper, but even years later foolish could recognize that smile anywhere.

it’s almost funny, how fitting this is for them. a trail of mayhem wherever they go, tricking everyone into dancing to their beat.

they’re beautiful.

in all honesty, switching career paths isn’t too much of an adjustment — in this day and age, the more advanced a security system is, the more vulnerable to attack it is from a thief that wants it gone. and now foolish is older, and he’s a security consultant, and he’s working with the police to catch the friend he lost all those years ago.

and it’ll be a huge shock to him when he corners them (of course he corners them, all these years later they have the same tendencies and they still head for higher ground when they’re threatened) and tries to ask what happened —

— only to discover they have no idea who he is, and are horrified that he knows their true identity.

and eret, right? they’re a thief, and not to be prideful but they’re a damn good one. this is the dream job, too. they travel the world, and they get to surround themself with the most expensive and rare of fashions and treasures, and all the while they’re stringing the rich and powerful along and letting them make fools of themselves.

and the best part? nobody knows a damn thing about them.

except, somehow, this random fucking security consultant that keeps popping up on their heists. and he seems like a nice enough person, and he’s -- okay, they’ll admit it, he’s attractive -- but he knows their name and he knows all this stuff about them and they don’t want that at all.

sure, it’d be nice to have someone who knows when they’re having a bad day and knows how to help them. it’d be nice to have someone plan nice surprises for them, and it’d be nice to have things they didn’t get for themself. it’d be nice to be known.

but it’s also terrifying, and so they want nothing to do with this guy. unluckily(?) for them, he’s persistent. 

they suppose they’ll just have to track him down out of uniform and ask him what the hell is going on.

[60wattbulb]

a thousand lights in the sky (and none of them stars)

summary: Philza makes paper lanterns to beat away the dark, and they guide his boys home over and over again. A set of three interconnected stories taking place over the span of some twenty years, each from a different point of view. (Title from "The Deepest Sighs, The Frankest Shadows" by Gang of Youths.)

notes: this fic took me six months to write for literally no reason. i kept coming back to it in between other projects, and now that it's finally wrapped up idk what i'll do with myself (said as i kick 17 other wips under the carpet).

chapter one: techno.

For some reason to do with the axial tilt of the Earth and its rotation around the Sun that Techno has never bothered to investigate, at the North and South Poles the sun only rises and sets once a year. They get a solid one hundred and eighty days of relentless sunlight, followed by a sunset and another hundred eighty-odd days of endless night. 

It had been bright and sunny when he and Phil had gotten to the continent, and they hadn’t thought much about it. It’s not particularly easy to tell when the sun is shining outside from the stronghold, after all. There’s small cracks in the walls of ice surrounding them where the ice is thinner and light shines through, but it’d still taken them nearly a week to realize the sun just didn’t set ever. 

Phil was perfectly pleased with that particular arrangement. They stayed indoors enough as it was. It was nice to be able to go out and get some sunlight when he wanted it, even though it fucked up their sleep schedules majorly for a while before Phil had gotten the bright idea to put up clocks where they could see them.

But the sun had set, suddenly and unexpectedly, and now they’re two months into a nighttime that’s driving both of them nuts. Phil doesn’t work as much, keeps napping in the middle of the day and abandoning his projects half-finished. Techno can’t quite say he’s unused to long hours spent in the dark — he hardly saw sunlight before he was twelve, really — but even he only managed to keep up as normal for about six weeks before throwing his hands up in surrender and escaping to an extended resource-gathering expedition.

He’s on his way back from that now. He should reach Antarctica around noon — he left his camp in the early morning, selfishly hanging around to watch one more sunrise before taking off. He’s expecting it to still be dark when he gets there. If winter lasts as long as summer did, they’re in for a long night.

What he’s not expecting is that the mountain of ice they’d built their base in shines beneath his plane, lit up from within, as he reaches the continent.

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[60wattbulb]

to the ends of the earth

Chapter Summary: Phil, on devotion and eternity and the cruelty of human mortality. (Title from "Ends of the Earth" by Lord Huron.) Chapter Warnings: Musings about character death, but nobody dies. Word Count: 583 Words

Also on AO3 here! 

Techno is beautiful as he sleeps. Moonlight casts faint shadows over the deep, ever-present bruising under his eyes (from his abject refusal of anything like a normal sleep schedule) and the cherry-blossom pink of his hair, curled slightly from his braid. His chest rises and falls steadily, a rhythm Phil has relied on to fall asleep more easily than any herbal tea mix on the planet. He’s drooling. 

And Phil can hardly manage to breathe, aching with the sheer weight of it all. 

He’s skimmed a hand through the deep starry night that sits under the waking world, spread his wings in the endless dark, shot rockets so far below that he never heard them explode. He’s stumbled into the deepest parts of the Nether and fixed tears in his haori sitting cross-legged on the bench swing there. He’s found oceans at the end of the world and flower fields at the bottom of the ocean and the sort of beauty that comes from loving hundreds of people and knowing there’s billions more he’ll never get to meet.

And Techno could live to be a hundred and fifty and they still wouldn’t have enough time. Phil has known him for some twenty years, followed him into a mountain made of ice and lit it up with paper lanterns, helped him take over the world (and what a petty thing, and how gratifying that Techno took it just as lightly as Phil), built him home after home, but he will never be able to show him all of these things, the endless devotion to living held in the world beyond the tip of his axe. It’s a time limit that’s too horrible to bear, and he’s taken on its weight over and over again but tonight, tonight he’s certain it will crush him. 

He splays his hand out over Techno’s stomach, feeling him breathe under Phil’s fingers. His life is hardly going to last the blink of an eye, but Phil is convinced in that moment that when he passes that’ll be it, it’ll be the last crack before Phil shatters, and he’ll just have to go off somewhere to sleep until eternity (a collar tied to a leash that never pulls, just hangs grimly at his back) finally comes to collect him. It’s too much, knowing that Techno deserves every inch of beauty this universe has to offer and that Phil will never be able to convey the depth of it to him within the few decades he’s been allotted.

Techno shifts with a faint sniffle, one finger coming up to brush under Phil’s eye. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“Bad dream?” Techno asks, voice still raspy with sleep.

“Something like that,” Phil answers softly, and allows Techno to pull him into his chest. He refuses to burden Techno with the weight of his own mortality—he carries so much already.

Tonight, Techno is warm and soft in the way only Phil gets the privilege of experiencing. Phil lets out a shuddering breath and tucks his head into Techno’s chest, trying to time his breathing to his heartbeat.

It’s cruelly fast, in the grand scheme of things, but tonight it’s slow. Slow and steady, a gentle reminder not to spurn the gift Phil has been given now. That he has Techno now, and he’ll have him when he wakes, and eternity is a problem to leave to tomorrow’s Phil. 

He can have tonight in peace, he tells himself, and closes his eyes.

[60wattbulb]

a sky full of lights (and none of them stars)

if you saw me post ch1 yesterday under a different name, no you didn’t

chapter two: wilbur.

Wilbur’s favorite time of year is the night they make the lanterns.

When the night starts creeping earlier and earlier into the day, and the wind starts to nip at Wilbur’s nose and ears and fingertips as he walks home from the library, Phil starts to get the materials together. Thin waxy paper that tears if you look at it wrong, long shiny wires, narrow strips of cloth, and the small pieces of coal from far far away that never seem to vanish no matter how long they burn.

He lays them all out on the workbench where he keeps his projects Wilbur and Tommy aren’t allowed to touch (Wilbur tried once, picked up a small gadget he’d never seen before, and it nearly took his finger off before Phil snatched it out of his hands). Then he spends what feels like years dallying over whether it’s time to make them yet.

Every night, he asks Wilbur and Tommy, “Do you think the night is long enough that we need the lanterns yet?”

Every night, Wilbur cheers, “Yes!” and Tommy babbles about the cold.

And every night, Phil hums and looks out the window and says, “Maybe not yet.”

Wilbur doesn’t know how Phil decides when it’s the right time, only that on one of those long waiting nights, Phil will put hot chocolate on the stove and tell Wilbur to go get the lantern supplies off the desk.

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[60wattbulb]

a sky full of lights (and none of them stars)

chapter three: tommy.

chapter cws: very vague mentions of tommy's exile, and implied past dehumanization from techno.

~

It’s cold as fuck outside Techno’s house.

Tommy doesn’t understand why Techno had to move somewhere that snows in mid-autumn. He had his choice of the whole goddamn SMP and he picked here? Tommy is wrapped up in Wilbur’s old coat, but the wind still cuts right through him.

Maybe it would help if he wasn’t perched on his cobblestone tower and getting snowed on. From his vantage point, Techno’s cottage far below looks warm and inviting. Phil just joined them a couple days back; he’d gone through Techno’s shit earlier today and somehow produced all of the materials to make the paper lanterns he always had Wilbur and Tommy put together in the fall. Ghostbur, ever-present as he only seemed to be when Tommy didn’t want him, had latched onto the idea instantly, and it isn’t as if Techno has any fucking spine where Phil is concerned.

So they’re all in there making the stupid lanterns and drinking hot chocolate. They tried to get Tommy in on it, too! Phil had handed Tommy the scissors with a side-eyed glance at Ghostbur and said something about him finally being old enough to handle it, and then Ghostbur had waved him over to the table with all of his sickly-sweet empty cheer, and Tommy…Well. Tommy got rightfully pissed off.

Probably shouldn’t have thrown the scissors, though, even if they missed Phil by a solid foot or so. He does feel a little bad about that.

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