#townseb

[reywooten]

anyway, thinking about townseb and whispers starting to filter into the hall about parker macmillan and the anticipated high incineration count and sebastian doesn’t want mike to be incinerated because of course not, he’s experienced it twice and it’s the worst pain he has ever been in and he wouldn’t wish it on his own worst enemy, but also part of him misses mike so badly and he would do anything to see him again

and so seb tries not to get his hopes up and he carefully doesn’t ask the breath mints about mike, and he doesn’t ask the fridays either

then the mt’s show up at the gates of the hall and he hears that other teams are on their way, the garages even, and he starts to let himself hope that they might be reunited

there’s general excitement as each team who were headed for the hall arrive and sebastian’s hope grows with each one because he is painfully familiar with the hall but he’s never seen it like this before. and then finally the garages show up

and seb is looking for mike among the newly arrived players and the other teams are crowding around them but he still doesn’t see mike. so he has to ask someone, and maybe it’s teddy, only to be told that not only is mike not with them, but they actually have no idea where he is or what is happening to him

[waveridden]

“You want a drink?” Seb says.

Mike Townsend blinks at him. “Do I- what?”

“I don’t want to be here,” he says, as plainly as he can. “And you don’t either. So let’s go somewhere else.”

(Mike/Sebastian, for WIP Amnesty. 1.3k.)

[leonstamatis]

townseb 12

ohohohooooo i see. i see. they,

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

Mike wakes to the sound of running water. He’s alone; the sheets are cold beside him, so Sebastian’s been up for a while. It takes a second for him to make his way out of bed, shoulders popping as he stretches his arms over his head.

The whole apartment smells like bacon. Mike takes a moment to appreciate this feeling, both of them sharing space together with nowhere else to go. It doesn’t happen often.

Mike pads his way out of the bedroom and heads directly for the kitchen. Sebastian is going to scold him for not brushing his teeth, but hey. Beggars can’t be choosers, or whatever.

“Well, no,” Sebastian’s voice carries down the hall from the kitchen. “I never said that.”

Mike slows, stopping just outside the doorway. It’s probably wrong to eavesdrop, but he figures a minute or two isn’t a punishable offense.

“I’m not saying rent a Uhaul this weekend or anything, Jess,” Sebastian says, and he sounds like he’s smiling. “I’m just saying it’s nice, and if he asked me to make this more permanent, I’d be okay with that.”

“What?”

Not Mike’s best work, really, but he can’t help it. He claps a hand over his mouth as soon as he’s said it, peers around the doorway to find Sebastian staring at him.

“Ah, I’ve been found out,” Sebastian says, but he doesn’t stop smiling. “Thanks for blowing my cover, Jess, I’ve been trying so hard to seem aloof and unattached.”

Jess says something else -- Mike doesn’t catch what it is, just hears chirping across the line. Sebastian nods along, rolling his eyes at Mike. He holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder, one hand maneuvering an omelette onto a plate.

“Okay, yes, I will tell you about any rash decisions at least an hour beforehand,” he says, “but for now, I’m hanging up. Yes, I am! I am. Bye, Jess!”

Mike steps slowly into the room, still feeling a little bit like he’s intruding on something. Sebastian waves him along.

“I’m making breakfast,” Sebastian says, “so you absolutely cannot tell me you want to break up or that this is moving too fast until I’m done. Also, you need more eggs.”

“It isn’t moving too fast,” Mike says. He feels a little unsettled, like someone picked him up and shook him around and left him dizzy, but he’s not scared. “It’s... nice. And if you want to stay, you can.”

“Yeah?” Sebastian asks, turning to wrap his arms around Mike’s waist.

Mike returns the favor. “Yeah.” He kisses Sebastian, quick and light, but even that is enough to make him grimace.

“Your morning breath could kill a man, Townsend.”

[queen-eevee]

going a very specific type of insane today

[mosscrab]

writing an au-ish fic that’s not really a ship fic it’s just friends going after a dead boyfriend and also brother and fighting monsters to get there and experiencing weird Shadows things but like. the writing process has been so fun bc I’ll just go: SCREAM leave Mike’s Shadow apartment you fools!!!! and then 2k will go by and they’ll still be in Mike’s apartment.

[leonstamatis]

sebmike pushing daisies ansare

ansare - to hardly breathe, to be out of breath

Seb bursts through the door of the shop with wide eyes, well before his shift is set to start.

“Mike!” he calls out, walking quickly to the counter and slamming his hands against the surface. “Mike, get out here! I want to try something!”

The door to the back kitchen swings open and Mike pokes his head around it, a dusting of flour on the bridge of his glasses in the shape of a fingerprint.

“Seb?” he asks. There’s a note of worry in his voice. “Everything okay?”

The cold outside, combined with the quick pace of the walk over, has left Sebastian nearly out of breath. He drops a small package on the counter, chest heaving and face tingling as the warmth of the room seeps into his skin.

“I got you something,” Sebastian says. “Come open it.”

Mike wipes his hands clean on his apron as he maneuvers around the door, eyes narrowed in confusion. He picks up the package delicately and peels back the packing tape, the sound loud in the otherwise silent pie shop.

Inside, Sebastian knows, are two very thick mittens. They’re decorated in pastel snowflakes and tiny animals, and they’re about the thickest he could find online.

“What are these?” Mike asks, holding one of them up for inspection. “I already have gloves.”

“Yeah, but yours have holes in them,” Sebastian says, “so they’re too risky.”

“Risky? For what, frostbite?”

Sebastian grins. “Will you just put them on for me for a second? Just to make sure they fit?”

Mike slips his hand into a mitten and flexes his fingers experimentally. “They feel fi-“

Sebastian slips his hand into Mike‘s easily, skin brushing against the wool without issue.

“Seb, no!” Mike gasps, eyes immediately shooting up to Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian, still living, still standing, flushed and breathing just a little too fast, grins. “I knew it would work.”

[leonstamatis]

i’ll have you in between

mike townsend/sebastian telephone, post-hall stars incineration 1.7k, title from “ghost” by misterwives

(also published on AO3)

Mike has to look away when Sebastian dies.

Or. Not dies, exactly. He’s already dead, has been for months. It should be a blessing that Mike got to see him again at all, even on TV, even semi-translucent and tinted blue. He was out on the field again, playing the most important game of his entire career. Of anyone’s career.

But the unmistakable sound of a rogue umpire had ruined that. The cameras turned to catch the transformation, showed a man bursting apart at the seams and turning to a writhing mass of shadow and bone and flame. Mike had seen all that before, often up close and personal.

Then the camera cut to Seb, standing on the field with a ball in his hands.

Mike has grown a lot since the early seasons, since Jaylen was incinerated just inches away from him mid-sentence. But he’s still human. He’d seen Seb staring that ump down, and he’d turned the television off.

There’s bread dough that needs attention, Mike tells himself as he walks into the kitchen. No point beating himself up about it. Besides, it’s not like he can do anything about whatever happens in Baltimore. He should focus on keeping himself sane ahead of elections.

He grabs flour from the pantry and gets to work, pounding the dough out on the countertop. It’s hard not to think of Sebastian; his busted end table is still in sight in the living room, chipped and wobbly and covered in old mail. His coat is still on the rack where he’d left it last time he visited. Mike can practically see him, sitting on the counter and knocking his heels on the lower cabinet while Mike works.

Seb, staring down a rogue ump on the field for the second time. Seb, replaced with a column of smoke and scorched grass.

Mike shakes his head and looks down at his hands. “Stupid,” he mutters to himself. “He had to go and be a hero.”

“Well, yeah. You would too, dude.”

Sebastian is right where he’s supposed to be, on the counter next to the sink. His Hall Stars jersey is singed, still lightly smoking in some places. He’s watching Mike with three wide, bright blue eyes.

He’d had brown eyes, before.

“Seb,” Mike whispers. His chest is tight; he thinks he might be hallucinating, having some kind of episode. Maybe he fell asleep on the couch. Maybe he’s dreaming.

“Hey, Mike,” Sebastian says, offering a wry smile. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

Mike rushes forward, heart pounding. He doesn’t even notice Sebastian is frowning until he reaches out to touch him, to run a hand along his cheek. Mike’s hand passes right through, disturbs the soft blue glow emanating from Sebastian’s skin but never makes contact.

“Seb, what’s – what’s happening?” Mike asks, reaching out again. It doesn’t help; once again, he fails to make contact.

Now that he’s looking closer, Mike can see the signs: Flour is dusted over the countertop, undisturbed by Sebastian’s form. His heels knock against the cabinet but make no sound.

“Long story,” Sebastian says, but his hand comes to hover over Mike’s chest too, like he wants to touch him back. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I have a lot of time.”

“How long?” Mike asks, and there’s no way any of this is real but he’ll pretend for as long as he can.

Sebastian bites his lip, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. “My guess is, end of the game. Maybe a little longer. Pretty sure it’s still the third inning right now.”

“You died,” Mike says, goes to rest his hand on Sebastian’s knee and ends up gripping the edge of the countertop instead. “Again.”

“I was incinerated,” Sebastian corrects him. He pushes his hair out of his eyes; Mike wishes he could do it for him. “Or, more accurately, thousands of peanuts belonging to me were incinerated. And now I’m here. With you. For a limited amount of time.”

“Why?”

“I can’t help them anymore,” he says. Mike isn’t sure whether he means the Hall Stars or the Pods, or even just Jessica. He doesn’t ask. “I thought maybe I could help you, though.”

Mike knows he’s staring. He doesn’t bother feeling bad about it. It’s a struggle, though, not to keep reaching out, not to lean his head forward and try to rest his forehead against Seb’s. All those little familiar things he misses are somehow still out of his reach, even with Sebastian sitting right here.

But if he’s only got a few hours, well. Maybe it’s better to act like that’s enough.

“How can you help?” Mike mutters, and Sebastian frowns but he pushes on. “You can’t exactly knead dough like this.”

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth twitches upward, very nearly a smirk. “I can supervise,” he says.

Mike closes his eyes and takes a breath, lets it out as a heavy sigh. And then he steps away and returns to the bread, abandoned in a shapeless lump on the counter. He dusts some more flour over the surface and gets to work.

“Written any new songs lately?” Sebastian asks.

Mike shakes his head. “Nothing special. The band is doing another collab with a bunch of people, they don’t need anything from me.”

“Aw, bummer,” Sebastian says, and it almost feels like a normal night together so long as Mike doesn’t look in his direction. “I was hoping you’d sing to me.”

Mike snorts. “You don’t want to hear any of the new stuff. It’s all emo and boring as hell.”

The oiled mixing bowl is on the counter near Sebastian. Mike gets as far as stretching a hand out for Sebastian to pass it over before he realizes he’ll have to get it himself. The bread is a brioche, still on the first proof; even if Sebastian were really here, there’d be no opportunity for him to snatch up bits of filling like he used to, not until tomorrow.

“What, are you writing about busy signals and voicemails?” Sebastian teases. “Memorializing the great Sebastian Telephone? Legally, you have to tell me.”

Mike hesitates, hands pausing in their work. But they’re on the clock, he supposes; might as well make the time worthwhile.

“Feels like running out of quarters at the payphone, waking in a bed where I’m all alone,” he sings, barely loud enough for Sebastian to hear. “Wish I had a third eye to show me where we went wrong.”

“Oh,” Sebastian says.

Mike shrugs. “You asked.”

Sebastian stays mostly quiet after that. Mike finds himself glancing over every few minutes just to make sure he’s still there, to make sure he’s not alone again. When they were together, the apartment had felt cramped and very nearly too small; now Mike frequently finds himself thinking it’s cavernous and hollow.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian says.

It’s not as sad as Mike thought it would be. “I’m sorry too.”

He tucks the dough into the bowl and covers it, turns to put it in the oven to prove overnight. He can see Sebastian watching him out of the corner of his eye. Mike starts rinsing off the dishes in the sink if only to distract himself from trying, impossibly, to touch him again.

“What inning do you think it is now?” Mike asks. Sebastian has migrated into the living room and is looking around sort of absently, casting everything in that watery blue light.

“You kept the end table,” he says back, which isn’t an answer.

Mike closes the dishwasher and makes his way out of the kitchen, wiping his hands dry on his jeans. “Of course I did.”

“They’re probably in the fifth or sixth inning by now,” Seb says.

He wanted to know. He asked the question. Somehow, knowing it doesn’t make Mike feel any better.

“Did you know you snore?” Mike asks. “It’s annoying as hell. Even more annoying now that I can’t fall asleep without it.”

Sebastian laughs, caught off guard. Mike misses that, too.

“I swear I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since you left,” he presses on, and he doesn’t know where the words are coming from or why but he can hardly stop now. “It sucks, Seb. I don’t know what to do. Some days I think that fucking end table is the most valuable thing I own.”

“That’s not true,” Sebastian says, and he’s smiling but his voice is shaky. He steps closer into Mike’s space, not that it actually matters. “You still have half my clothes here, you could make thousands off those after tonight.”

“Finally made a name for yourself after all this time, huh?” Mike asks, and reaches out to run a hand over Seb’s arm before he can catch himself. “All you had to do was die.”

“Twice,” Sebastian says.

“Twice,” Mike repeats.

Making a name for themselves was never the point, exactly. They got to know each other specifically because they’d never been in the spotlight. Things are a little different now; Mike’s got an entire album written in his honor, practically, and Sebastian was brought back from the Hall of Flame. Those things don’t happen to just anybody.

Mike would give anything to go back to being nobody if it meant Sebastian would be nobody with him.

Sebastian tilts his head to the side, eyes running over Mike’s face. “You look tired, Mike.” One of his hands comes up to rest against Mike’s cheek; he tries his best to lean into it. “You need to rest.”

“If I go to sleep, you’ll disappear,” Mike says, and he knows it’s neither logical nor fair.

“I’m going to disappear anyway.”

“I know.”

And that’s it, really. Mike allows Sebastian to lead him to the bedroom, lies down on top of the covers and pretends he can feel Sebastian’s arms around him. He doesn’t sleep; they both know that. But Sebastian is still and quiet the entire time, running a hand along Mike’s arm and holding him as best he can.

In an hour or two, Sebastian will push up off the bed and walk out of the room. He’ll vanish into thin air, like he was never here. A few hours after that, Mike will get up and force himself to finish the bread he started, even though it’s the last thing he wants to do.

For now, they have this. It’s not enough; Mike will pretend it is.

[waveridden]

sebastian/mike and 19 bc townseb has been living in my head rent free since you talked about them & they make me emo

19. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

“I could never get the hang of baking,” Sebastian admits.

“Cooking’s an art, baking’s a science,” Mike says serenely. He doesn’t even pause in kneading his sourdough. Sebastian is not allowed to touch the sourdough. Apparently it’s a whole... thing, for him. Which is fine, because Seb’s perfectly content to watch Mike in his element. He’s focused and content, and it’s kind of incredible to see.

“I could be a scientist,” he says, trying to sound mockingly upset. “I’m incredibly smart, you know. A genius.”

“Whatever you say,” Mike intones, and Sebastian grins. “If it helps I’m not much of an artist.”

“You cook just fine, shut up.”

Without even turning, Mike grabs a fistful of flour and throws it in Sebastian’s general direction. Most of it dissipates in the air, but some of it hits Seb’s face, and he splutters indignantly. “Mike-”

“Can’t do that when you’re cooking,” Mike says smugly.

“Can do it when you’re spectating,” Seb says. Mike looks up just as he scoops some flour off the counter and throws it straight at his face.

“Huh,” Mike says, and takes off his glasses. Sebastian laughs, bubbling up before he can stop it. It just looks ridiculous, his whole face covered with flour except the area around his eyes. Mike shakes his head. “You’re a goddamn menace.”

Seb leans one hip against the counter. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Finish kneading my sourdough,” Mike says dryly, but his eyes are sparkling.

Sebastian hums and leans in. “What about after that?”

Mike turns and leans in. Sebastian holds his breath, and Mike’s lips brush over his, just faintly, just for a second. When he pulls back he’s smiling, wide and breathtaking. “After that,” he says, “is the fun part.”

[waveridden]

I'm only going to hurt myself with this but 17 townseb

“only going to hurt myself” YOURSELF AND ME, COLA

17. things you said that i wish you hadn’t

There is a new end table in Mike’s apartment.

It kind of catches him off guard. He hasn’t been in his apartment for three years because of the shadows, but he’s pretty sure that he would remember an end table being there. He feels like he should know the furniture.

He takes a couple steps closer to it and then stops.

It’s not his. It’s Sebastian’s - or, he thinks, maybe it was Jessica’s at some point. There were only a few weeks between Jess going into the shell and Mike going into the shadows, but Seb had spent most of those weeks in Seattle, at Garages games, with him.

He hadn’t brought much, but the end table had appeared after a while, towards the end. “I’ve had this table in every apartment I’ve ever lived in,” Sebastian had explained. It’s kind of an ugly table, painted black but stained and chipped. “It was the first thing I ever got for myself. So I take it wherever I move.”

“Oh,” Mike had said, because how do you explain to someone that they read your mind? He’s been turning the question over in his mind: will you move in, do you want to be here in the off-season, please stay with me, please stay. And Sebastian, in that incredible way he does, had guessed right.

Seb just smiled. “It makes a house a home,” he said gently. “And this was the last piece missing.”

“Welcome home,” Mike had said, and Sebastian let Mike hug him and hold him tight, tucked his head under Mike’s chin, been so close to him.

He hadn’t thought about the end table in the shadows. Maybe he thought Sebastian would take the table back. He wonders why he left it. He wonders if it was the kind of thing that Seb meant to get around to - he was always doing that, on the verge of “just about to” and “i’ll do it soon,” and this could’ve fallen through one of those cracks.

Mike runs his fingers along the edge of the end table. The last piece missing, Sebastian had said. The last thing that kept Mike’s apartment from being home. It’s such an ugly fucking table.

He doesn’t get rid of it, though. He could never.

[leonstamatis]

mike/seb + music

The opening chords to the song play while they’re driving to the grocery store, and Mike doesn’t even give it the dignity of acknowledging it. But Seb is more aggressive in his distaste, immediately turning the radio off.

“They always get the lyrics wrong,” he says, rolling his eyes. And then, to Mike’s surprise, he starts to sing. “Mike Townsend is a real great boyfriend, he’s a lover and he’s got a nice face-“

Mike groans and smacks him on the shoulder, trying hard to hide the fact he’s blushing. “You’re an idiot, come on.”

[send me a character/ship and a prompt and I’ll write a three-sentence fic!]

[leonstamatis]

what r ur thoughts on sebmike in the pushing daisies au...... we've seen Seb and Derrick and Derrick and Mike but not really sebmike

oh a GOOD question anon and honestly one i am still parsing through myself!

i think the thing about townseb for me is like. the thing that makes it Good in blaseball actual universe is the tragedy of the timing. they were in love because they were not noteworthy, and they had a season and a half together, and then mike went to the shadows and then seb died and mike came back to an empty apartment and then seb died A SECOND TIME so like. no rest no glory no love broken ass death mechanic.

so translating that to pushing daises au. it’s about the yearning, a little bit. kind of make it a ghost au but slightly to the left. the thing with mike and seb is that they’ve been in love with each other for a few years but never really said anything, and it’s complicated to go from Mike and Derrick to Mike and Derrick and Sebastian, that’s the kind of thing they need to discuss and figure out, and you’re not going to really do that until you know it’s something you want.

but how can you know if it’s a romantic love or a platonic love for someone you’ve known this long, how do you differentiate “this person has always been important to me” from “this person has always been important to me and that has now developed into Romantic Love.” and i think mike doesn’t realize how serious it is until sebastian dies!

and for seb and derrick it’s easier because they don’t have that history. they met and they didn’t necessarily get along, so it’s easy to see when the “i’m not sure about you” becomes “i want to know more about you” and even “i think about kissing you sometimes and i want to find out what that means.” and derrick has mentioned this to mike, however much he may have couched it in jokes or whatever, but he’s pretty sure he can tell seb has a crush on both of them anyway, because he’s got a more clear-eyed perspective on seb as an acquaintance versus a friend versus a romantic interest.

and i think. i think!! for a whole variety of reasons! sebderrick moves a hell of a lot faster than sebmike post-revival. i think derrick and sebastian both recognize their own mortality in a very specific way, and the bond they had before is strengthened by it until it’s undeniably more serious than either of them anticipated.

i think mike struggles very much with whether sebastian likes him for him, or likes him because he saved his life. and he knows this is irrational, because sebastian has always enjoyed his company, but seb didn’t mention anything about wanting to date until after he died! so what if when he brought seb back it changed seb’s understanding of who he is, and made seb believe he’s something he isn’t. what if, what if.

and on top of that: what if seb dies again. what if mike screws up and seb dies, and it’s for good this time.

this combination of things means that seb tests the waters as much as he can - holding hands, kisses on the cheek through plastic wrap, going out to lunch at places that aren’t literally where they work. and he never pushes too much because he knows mike is freaking out about it, he’s seen a nervous-breakdown-incoming version of mike and this is definitely it. so he’s patient, and in the meantime, derrick’s around and they get to do things together.

and just like. it takes some time. for them to get to a place where they can date and be together how they want to. and even then it isn’t. the way they really want to. mike doesn’t get to actually kiss seb, and seb doesn’t actually get to kiss mike, and they don’t get to do all the things they would like to if they were normal. they always have to be physically distanced from each other - more so, even, than they were when they were just friends. the yearning of it all. the longing. the missed opportunities where if they’d just been a little braver they could have had more before seb died--

so yeah. that’s townseb. they’re sad. this is a romantic comedy! except for when it is not.

[leonstamatis]

townseb 38

38. because they’re running out of time

“You’re going to be late,” Sebastian says. He stands on his toes to pull the curtains open, and the mid-morning sunlight spills through.

Mike groans, pulling the comforter up over his head. “M’not playing today.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sebastian tells him, coming over to hop on the bed beside him. “That’s why you’re coming with me to Dallas.”

“I’m what?”

Sebastian pulls the blanket down just a little bit, just enough to see Mike crinkle his eyes up in protest. He pokes him in the nose once, twice, before Mike narrowly opens one eye to glare at him.

“You’re coming to Dallas to cheer me on,” Sebastian repeats. “And since I know you’re not pitching, I know you have no reason to turn me down. Right?”

Mike groans and pushes up onto his elbow, still glaring at Sebastian. “You owe me coffee, and a breakfast.”

As if Sebastian would do anything less. The coffee pot is already on, and he knows exactly where to go to get breakfast burritos on the way to the stadium. He leans in and kisses Mike, morning breath be damned.

“Only if you hurry,” he says. “We’re already ten minutes behind schedule.”

[leonstamatis]

i like how many different ships there are for mike and jaylen. mostly because it’s so funny that we have this hot accomplished former mayor lesbian who kills people. and then a mediocre guy who was made fun of a lot and sent to the shame zone. and we were all like, yeah, those two are obviously the most eligible bachelors in blaseball,

[leonstamatis]

every time i post any mike/andy i want to be like SORRY I KNOW THIS SEEMS WEIRD BUT I PROMISE IT MAKES SENSE which is. so fucking funny when you consider how much of what i write is just incomprehensible. this is honestly one of the less complicated ships why do i always feel like it’s something i must hide behind a cut,

[waveridden]

23 for sebmike also id like to pitch telesend as a ship name

listen i am happy with whatever ship name people want but it breaks my heart that we can’t finagle it so the ship name is “microphone” because neither of them have r’s in their name. maybe that’s mike/derrick/seb. anyways

23. darting shadows in the corner of your eyes

At first he thinks that “in the shadows” is literal.

It’s wishful thinking, of course. Instability is a mark for death, and blooddrain isn’t a drain. There’s no earthly way that Mike is actually in the shadows at the edges of the stadium. He’s not actually there.

But Sebastian looks for him anyways, a habit that takes weeks on end to break. Every single motion, every figure whose face he can’t quite make out is Mike. It’s a comforting thought until he thinks about it too long and then it’s sobering, haunting to consider Mike trapped just out of sight.

He gets over it. It takes time but he gets over it. He stops seeing Mike at games, at practices, at home. It’s just him. It gets easier to go to cookouts, to spend time with other people again. He gets happier. It gets better.

And then one day at a game something moves in the corner of his eye, something deliberate, something he recognizes, and he turns before he can think twice about it, mouth already opening, the shape of Mike’s name on his lips.

When Jaylen hits him with a pitch, he doesn’t see it coming. He supposes that’s better than the alternative.

[waveridden]

alright weird question but. as a sucker for townseb and tillmikelan.. do you think seb/mike/dec/till would work

ok i have been thinking about this for several hours and the thing is i think that sebastian would hate tillman. i just do. i can see it being a "mike has three boyfriends" thing and two of those boyfriends are dating and the third one just does not gel with the other two.

also declan/sebastian is a mystery to me bc i can see it going a couple ways but my instinct is that it's like... have you ever had a classmate or a coworker who you get along with pretty well and then you try to go out socially and it's like. oh we are two different people who just happen to have one big thing in common. that's my guess for the vibe