gossÄ°p gÄ°rl

3

BUFFYVERSE + Aesthetic: Spike (for anon & iwanttoseehowitends)

O problema é que eu não consigo me doar por metades, eu me dou por inteiro. E você sabe, por mais que eu tente colocar todas as armadilhas em mim, ainda tem gente que consegue destruí-las e me machucar e é isso que a torna mais resistente a cada decepção. Então, quando eu digo que tenho medo, não é medo de me entregar, mas sim de me decepcionar. Eu quero ser feliz, quero muito, mas eu preciso estar segura para isso, porque você sabe, não dá para seguir em frente em uma ponte se você não tem certeza se ela vai cair ou não.
—  Random love.
the human-shaped emptiness inside

excerpt: they have the coming out conversation over skype, four months in. phil says, i just wanna show you off, and dan says, you can. they talk about work experience, after, and kind of forget.

note: my coming out headcanon - or, to be more accurate, the lack thereof -  put into 1.5k words. there are a hundred versions of their potential coming out and none of them fits inside my head. there is a reason for this. 

also: please excuse the lowercase. i have a capitalized version sitting around waiting for someone to complain, but i have been informed this fits the style better. suspend belief. also read on ao3.


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1. they have the coming out conversation over skype, four months in. phil says, i just wanna show you off, and dan says, you can. they talk about work experience, after, and kind of forget.

2. dan doesn’t tell his mum but does tell phil’s, standing barefoot in her kitchen making two cups of tea. she asks while rummaging through drawers and he tells her with shaking fingers against porcelain mugs, finds that it’s not that big of a deal. he doesn’t tell his own mum, but he thinks she already knows.

3. in the supermarket phil buys too much food for only one person and an elderly woman in aisle three asks. he says, my boyfriend’s visiting, and pretends it’s not for the first time.

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hurricane lamps for storms

summary: five snapshots from the future.

(notes: sometimes i write short drabbles that don’t have any point. i was supposed to post the ridiculous au i’m working on before i post anything else, much less yet another fic that deals with dan/phil + future, but someone on my dash was talking about them growing old and moving to the country and. well. this was written in an hour and barely edited. please don’t judge me.) also read on ao3.

 

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In the retired sketchbook of Phil’s old drawing games, there’s a clumsily done picture of a big house with a mile-long fence and green grass everywhere. When it was drawn, Phil drank the last of his wineglass and said, “I don’t want horses,” and Dan set down his own glass and nodded mock-gravely, said, “Okay, even though the setting calls for it.”  

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of the smiles we left behind

summary: some things change and some things don’t. they go to phil’s school reunion and the ways in which things have remained the same start chiming louder and louder. 

notes: anonymous said: i feel like the highschool reunion + existential crisis the day before might make a good fic. for context, the 29th of august timeline: this tweet, a pic i can’t seem to retrieve of a fan and their mom who met dan and phil at a restaurant where they were with phil’s school friends, this tweet, this one, and these two tweets. 

a semi-fic about how change is as terrifying as the lack of, and about how just because you don’t want to define something within structured lines doesn’t mean it won’t be defined for you. also read on ao3

there is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered. (nelson mandela)

 

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I.

The invitation sits in his inbox for three days, four, seventeen. It’s untouched but he marks it with a star so he won’t lose it, even though he tells Dan he doesn’t want to go when Dan asks.

Eighteen, nineteen, thirty-three. On Wednesday he opens the reply and doesn’t thumb through his yearbook to search for the face of the name that signed the email. He types, I’ll be there, doesn’t add a smiley. Dan eats lunch on the sofa and says nothing.

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