#its like a promise you make: doctor incarnation

[unboundwanderers]

             The Control Room was quiet, cozy, and filled with a distinctive warmth exclusive to only one singular type-40 TARDIS, and that was The Doctor's. Currently floating with its weight sensors set to 'lazy mode' as The Doctor called them, the Police Box was floating absentmindedly through Mutter's Spiral. As one would float ambiently through a pool of water, The Police Box drifted through nebulas and cosmos. Inside, The Console Room had undergone a minor redecoration, as had The Doctor as well. Favoring something a tad bit cozier, The Doctor had shifted the preset to a flavor of Control Room used only briefly by his THIRD incarnation during the Anti-Matter Omega Crisis.

             When his exile had been lifted, his Third Incarnation had shifted the preset to something more... smaller, more reminiscent of the mid-twentieth century. However, having REGENERATED not too long ago, this new Incarnation of The Doctor was rehashing trends and life choices he'd felt hadn't gotten all that much love. This Control Room and its exterior were some of them. Another was a Sonic Screwdriver that had been destroyed during his Fifth Incarnation's run. A cylindrical silver piece with a red bullet at the top and a white strip painted in the middle. Currently, he was using The Sonic Screwdriver to reconnect circuits underneath The Console.

             Standing upright and tapping The Screwdriver into the palm of his hand, The Doctor twisted a switch on the console to activate the monitor. He took a look at his face once more. It was the face of someone in their mid-thirties, at most. Sharp blue eyes, narrow brows, a sharp chin, a seemingly perplexed facial expression- but the most puzzling part of it all was The Silver Hair. It seemed as if this incarnation couldn't decide on whether or not he wanted to be young or old- so he decided on some even middle ground, "Well... It's like I always say- a new house." He mumbles to himself before biting softly on the end of his index finger. That's when a sudden ping caught his attention- but he quickly rolled his eyes at the receiver's end. "A direct transmission from Gallifrey? What could they possibly want me to do now?" He examined.

             "Ah, From the president- no less... This must be of the highest authority if it's coming from President-" He looked down to read, but had to re-squint once or twice to make sure he was reading it quickly. He snapped, a hand softly hitting the console before he let out a shout of pride and excitement, "Ha! Oh, you wonderful Old Bat! You did it, truly- you did it... How did you manage that?" He had to really think, stroking his chin. Had he forgotten about Romana? The last time he saw her- well- there were multiple accounts- perhaps Regeneration had made his mind fuzzy.

             "Well! I might as well go congratulate The Madam President! She is, after all, succeeding the best president." He chuckles softly before setting the Navcom Controls toward the transmission's source- The President's Office! A soft groaning and wheezing let The Doctor know that he was traveling through the vortex as he walked toward a coat rack. Grabbing some white trainers, a navy blue coat, and a familiar multi-colored scarf, The Doctor completed his look: White Dress Shirt, Tan Waistcoat, brown cravat, Blue Coat, tan cargo pants, and White Trainers- before finally he slid on a familiar scarf and grabbed a tan fedora with a blue ribbon- sliding it all on to complete one... strange look.

             In the President's office, The Police Box materialized- and a head popped out, only to be greeted by a plethora of Timelord Stasers. "...Er, Pardon the Intrusion- I promise I have an invite." He chuckled softly, having condensed Romana's invite onto his Psychic Paper, which he held out for the guards.

@gallifreyborn

#Utterly Fascinating Enigma (The Scarf Doctor~!) #The Tardis Doorstep (In Character~!) #gallifreyborn

[peacespun]

it could only be described as a pull.    half way across the galaxy and something demanded his presence there,      told him exactly where he needed to be.      it helped,      of course,      that there were rumors about him being here.     rumors of him fighting alongside the rebellion,      which made abe kind of laugh when it turned out to be true.      he always did have a fire in him.      its no surprise that nothings changed from one incarnation to the next.      but there ... on a desolate planet in the middle of nowhere,      he'd been abandoned.     there was certainly evidence of a search but it was halted and not a soul was there to help him free of the rubble.      it was only him.

but that meant less bloodshed,       the less he had to do to convince him that there was not another person coming for him.     you were lucky that i found you when i did,     he'll say,      and the rest would follow.     meantime,     the starship hovered over the carnage of what had been left of the old order.      a laughable regime built on the back of another failed attempt at ruling something that could not be ruled,      at least not without the proper knowledge.     the right person to take hold.     there was a small glimmer on the scanner when they'd arrived,     a faint sign of life.      dean.

it took only an hour to reach him.      his ground crew of five pushed and heaved large pieces of metal from the pile on top of him,      creating a hole they could safely extract him from.      abraham was there doing his part,     hands dirty with dirt and soot leftover from a battle now settled.      and when he saw him,      that tug,      that pull to him,      finally nestled warmly under his ribs and soothed.      i found you.

he almost steps closer,      almost reaches out to touch him but he doesn't want to overwhelm him so quickly with too much.      he's already in an awful state of mind,      given what he's been through.      he can't put him through much more at this moment without running the risk of pushing him beyond a breaking point before he's ready.      so he waits,      offers instead sympathy.      and believe it or not,      it is still genuine.      the concern for his health,      his safety.      but from the outside he's just a stranger that happened upon a man in a condition that's just getting worse by the day.

"   don't worry,      you're safe now.   "          he said,      and then he moved aside to let a taller man through and settle closer to him.     abraham allowed him room to work.          "   we're here to help.      this is my friend,     sorin.     he's a doctor.      it's all going to be okay,      i promise.   "

and it was.      they successfully managed to get him free,      carrying him out on a stretcher they'd brought from the ship.     there was a sort of cheer when it was achieved,      some of them telling him as he's passed from one team of hands to the next that he was in good company,      "welcome home."          when he was finally on board,      each of them went back to their stations and they would leave this system as far behind them as they could get it.      and doctor sorin went to work with what he could.     abraham ordered that the very best be done for him,     no shortcuts.      whatever you have to do.

surgery took the better part of a couple of hours,       repairing the damage done to his legs and anything else he could find.      thankfully it was a mostly easy process,      and after that he was allowed to rest,      peacefully,      and slowly come back from the anesthetic and recover.

abraham was there in that meantime,       watching over him.      there is a sort of peace he gets in watching that steady rise and fall of his chest,      he can almost remember what it was like before.     it feels like a lifetime ago when his ancestor was with him,      and in the same sense it was only yesterday.      he hopes that he can make him proud with dean.     if he can work with him,      teach him what he knows and guide him through the motions of a past knowledge,      he hopes that pieces of the one he lost will come back to him.      he promised he'd stop at nothing.

and when dean begins to stir,      abraham sits up in his chair beside him and he reaches out to rest his hand over @warspun's.        "   easy,   "        he soothes,      whisper soft,          "   you're still hurt.      its come a long ways but you still need rest.      just lie still,      everything will be okay.   "

#warspun #* 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 . abraham march. #* 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 . post series. #* 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 . star wars. #repost.

[blednone]

it could only be described as a pull. half way across the galaxy and something demanded his presence there, told him exactly where he needed to be. it helped, of course, that there were rumors about him being here. rumors of him fighting alongside the rebellion, which made abe kind of laugh when it turned out to be true. he always did have a fire in him. its no surprise that nothings changed from one incarnation to the next. but there ... on a desolate planet in the middle of nowhere, he'd been abandoned. there was certainly evidence of a search but it was halted and not a soul was there to help him free of the rubble. it was only him.

but that meant less bloodshed, the less he had to do to convince him that there was not another person coming for him. you were lucky that i found you when i did, he'll say, and the rest would follow. meantime, the starship hovered over the carnage of what had been left of the old order. a laughable regime built on the back of another failed attempt at ruling something that could not be ruled, at least not without the proper knowledge. the right person to take hold. there was a small glimmer on the scanner when they'd arrived, a faint sign of life. dean.

it took only an hour to reach him. his ground crew of five pushed and heaved large pieces of metal from the pile on top of him, creating a hole they could safely extract him from. abraham was there doing his part, hands dirty with dirt and soot leftover from a battle now settled. and when he saw him, that tug, that pull to him, finally nestled warmly under his ribs and soothed. i found you.

he almost steps closer, almost reaches out to touch him but he doesn't want to overwhelm him so quickly with too much. he's already in an awful state of mind, given what he's been through. he can't put him through much more at this moment without running the risk of pushing him beyond a breaking point before he's ready. so he waits, offers instead sympathy. and believe it or not, it is still genuine. the concern for his health, his safety. but from the outside he's just a stranger that happened upon a man in a condition that's just getting worse by the day.

" don't worry, you're safe now. " he said, and then he moved aside to let a taller man through and settle closer to him. abraham allowed him room to work. " we're here to help. this is my friend, sorin. he's a doctor. it's all going to be okay, i promise. "

and it was. they successfully managed to get him free, carrying him out on a stretcher they'd brought from the ship. there was a sort of cheer when it was achieved, some of them telling him as he's passed from one team of hands to the next that he was in good company, "welcome home." when he was finally on board, each of them went back to their stations and they would leave this system as far behind them as they could get it. and doctor sorin went to work with what he could. abraham ordered that the very best be done for him, no shortcuts. whatever you have to do.

surgery took the better part of a couple of hours, repairing the damage done to his legs and anything else he could find. thankfully it was a mostly easy process, and after that he was allowed to rest, peacefully, and slowly come back from the anesthetic and recover.

abraham was there in that meantime, watching over him. there is a sort of peace he gets in watching that steady rise and fall of his chest, he can almost remember what it was like before. it feels like a lifetime ago when his ancestor was with him, and in the same sense it was only yesterday. he hopes that he can make him proud with dean. if he can work with him, teach him what he knows and guide him through the motions of a past knowledge, he hopes that pieces of the one he lost will come back to him. he promised he'd stop at nothing.

and when dean begins to stir, abraham sits up in his chair beside him and he reaches out to rest his hand over @bledgraces. " easy, " he soothes, whisper soft, " you're still hurt. its come a long ways but you still need rest. just lie still, everything will be okay. "

#bledgrace #sith. #* 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 . star wars. #* 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 . post series. #and here is the recovery one <3

[autolovecraft]

Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door.

He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape.

The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy. Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it.

Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus. After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he planned to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. Birch decided he could get through the transom. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the way in his quest for the Fenner casket.

He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. As he planned, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. Birch. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor.

The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. He was the devil incarnate, Birch, just as I thought! The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. You know what a fiend he was for revenge—how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a year ago last August … He was the devil incarnate, Birch, but you always did go too damned far! He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, just as I thought!

The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the way in his quest for the Fenner casket. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the right grave. He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. When Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you got what you deserved. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb.

[nntheblog]

Yurei Deco Episode 1 Review & Episode 2 Release Date

Berry will be able track Zero, the notorious thief who takes people's virtual money? Yurei Deco Episode 2 is near and we have all the information you need about the upcoming episode. Episode 1 Recap & Review – What Happened Before Yurei Deco Episode 2? Yurei Deco Episode1, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,The Island City of Tom Sawyer are all run through the DecorationCustomizer system everyone calls "Deco". They are trying to get "Love", their currency, so that they can upgrade their avatars. Berry is a citizen obsessed with the idea of capturing Zero, a mythical criminal. Zero's name is an incarnation of what Berry does: he can make anyone's Love zero. Berry is on her journey to the doctor to get her eye implanted when she spots an invisible figure that is swindling people's Love. She believes it to be Zero. He chases her but she is unsuccessful. Berry follows her pursuers with a recording surveillance device until she reaches the Zero Phenomenon event, where the thief recognizes another person as Zero and presents Zero to them. Yurei Deco Premiere Review: First Three Episodes Science SARU's newest anime, Yurei Deco is a bright and colorful look at augmented reality as well as an evocative loose adaptation of Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The show's initial three episodes were marred by clumsy tech talk, thin characters, and a lack of promise. The latest episode of Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! and The Heike Story is set on Tom Sawyer Island. This augmented reality world allows characters to go to school from their bedrooms and have a virtual video chat with their peers in the distant future. They also have a tiny device that allows them decorate the world around them (from billboards to shop signs to facades on buildings or houses) as they please. They must pay to get that done. "Love" is the local currency. It's earned by doing things other people approve of and give value to. Everything is perfect on Tom Sawyer Island. The only problem is that the Phantom Zero attacks, draining all of the love and affection in the surrounding area. The story follows Berry, a normal girl who is able to see Hack, a girl she has never seen before, and they stumble upon Phantom Zero's attacks. Hack is blamed for the attack and the two discover a web of lies that runs through their entire society. It's no easy task to translate a piece that is so closely connected to Americana like the works of Mark Twain into another culture. But it's not surprising that Dai Sato, who wrote Cowboy Bebop and Wolf's Rain, finds universal themes in the novel to bring it to a futuristic setting. There are obvious references like the splitting of the name Huckleberry Finn between the main characters. But the show's greatest strength is its exploration into societal hypocrisy. Berry might live in a utopia where everyone is happy, but this is because extreme censorship is in place where anything "undesirable", or against the mainstream, is quickly removed in secret. It is because of this that, just as in Twain’s novel, it is the Yurei (literally translated "ghosts") who are the only ones who see the truth. It remains to be seen how this plot thread will resolve, but it is a promising beginning to the show. Yurei Deco is bright, colorful and visually imaginative. Yurei Deco, a Science SARU anime is, as you might expect, vibrant and colorful. The show's art style and aesthetic can be altered depending on which point of view is being experienced. Deco allows you to alter your surroundings virtually. An uninteresting building can look 3D and complex in one scene and minimalistic and 2D in the next. Yurei Deco, which is even more than belle and Summer Wars, shows how flexible a virtual world can become for the user. Yurei Deco's biggest problem is in the implementation of its technology. It is difficult to see the difference between the fully virtual world, and the augmented reality deco system in a story about technology and how it integrates into daily life.  Although it could be explained more as the story progresses, the initial episode leaves a lot to be desired. In the first three episodes, Berry and Huck's characters are a bit thin and undefined. They are not the "wonderful one with funny speech patterns" or the "normal one." Masaaki Yuasa was the creator of Yurei Deco. His influence can still be clearly seen here. The show is a promising show that has some issues, but it's a visually striking and narratively strange show that deserves more attention this summer. Verdict Yurei Deco continues Science SARU’s string of visually distinctive anime, with big ideas but few characters. It does, however, offer a touching and loose adaptation to Huckleberry Finn in an augmented reality world and society hypocrisy. Where can I watch Yurei Deco Episode 2? English Subtitles Yurei Deco will be broadcast in Japan by Tokyo MX, MBS and BS NTV. Crunchyroll will stream the show online for those who are not in Japan. Crunchyroll offers premium subscriptions to access their library of shows. FAN is an ad-free plan that provides unlimited access to Crunchyroll's shows for an hour after an episode has been released for $7.99 per monthly; MEGA FAN offers the same perks, but it can be viewed offline for up to four devices for $9.99 per months or $79.99 per annum. A 14-day trial is available if you are interested in trying it out. When will Yurei Deco Episode 2 be released? Yurei Decode Episode 2 will be released weekly on July 10, 2022. Yurei Deco episodes air in Japan at midnight. In North America, episode 2 should air at the beginning of the morning. When is Yurei Deco Episode 2, due for release? Yurei Deco Episode 2, will be released at 11:00 PM JST in Japan. Depending on where you are located, the release time may vary. The release time of the first Crunchyroll episode should be the following: - Pacific Time: 8:30 AM PST - Central Time: 10:30AM CT - Eastern Time: 11:01 AM EST - British Time: 4:30 PM BST Read the full article

[kiki-shortsnout]

Intimacy prompt 34 and 37 for IronStrange pleaze?.

Oh I think Have I Ever is my favorite work of yours in intimacy because there's no way those 2 will get together without being dramatic first haha XD

Hey! Thank you for the ask, and thank you for the compliment, I'm happy you're enjoying these prompts!

Whew! I'm making some progress on these prompts!

***

‘Do you regret it?’

Tony pulled up his sunglasses so he could give him the full effect of his unimpressed stare.

‘Am I supposed to pluck the context out of thin air, Strange? Regret what?’ he asked, flicking his sunglasses back into place, and sinking his feet further into the scorching sand. He heard the breath leaving the wizard’s lungs as he sat up on the blanket, the shift of bare skin across the fibers of it.

‘No, because you know exactly what I’m talking about.’

Groaning dramatically, Tony flung his arms out behind him to support his weight as he leant back, palms stinging from the heat of the sand, glorious, smoldering heat. He didn’t answer straight away, keeping his gaze locked on Morgan leaping through the frothy waves, Peter a few seconds behind her, just as excited.

‘No. No, I don’t regret it.’

His divorce with Pepper wasn’t something he liked to talk about, but their relationship was well past the point of idle chitchat. Hours wedged together on an alien spaceship would do that. They’d stared at death incarnate together, had given everything they could to stop Thanos, and that formed a connection between people, regardless of their backgrounds.

Magical or not.

Tony sat up, inching closer to the shade Stephen had refused to leave the whole time they’d been at Malibu, and taking a moment to eye up his milky white skin. The man looked like he could get sunburnt in the shade. Using magic to tilt the umbrella so Tony could share, Stephen scooped up the seashells Morgan had found earlier, gleaming treasure she had entrusted him with their safekeeping.

It made him smile, how seriously Stephen treated her, and it made an unusual sensation stir in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he’d first started dating Pepper.

‘I think she loved the idea of me, what I could be, what I would’ve been if not for Iron Man,’ Tony said suddenly, watching his kids screech as the Cloak chased after them, shaking water from its fabric, indicating it’d been dunked in saltwater.

‘I wanted to be that man for her, I really did, and she’s still one of the most important people to me, not because she’s the mother of my child, but because I love her. I always will, just not in the way she deserves.’

‘Tony, this wasn’t an excuse for you to start tearing your self-esteem into ribbons,’ Stephen scolded.

‘I’m not, I’m answering your question. I knew, we both knew as soon as I leapt aboard the alien doughnut that it was over. We tried to work past it, all of us left behind in the five years you guys were gone tried to cobble our lives back together, but it…’ Tony sighed, scooping up a handful of sand and gazing at the millions of sun-kissed gems, fragments that created a whole.

‘I get it, I suppose it’s hard to love a hero, it’s hard to understand…unless you’re one yourself.’

‘I don’t blame her for wanting me to give up Iron Man, I get it, I just…couldn’t. I tried, but as soon as you came to me about Thanos, I knew I had to go…I didn’t stop to think about how it might affect her, jumping on another suicide mission.’

Tony reached over Stephen’s ridiculously long legs to reach his can of lemonade he’d left there earlier, grimacing at the warmth of the liquid, but grateful for the way it soothed his dry throat.

‘What about you, asshole, you got a special lady?’ Tony asked, deflecting the conversation.

‘Nope, no special someone,’ Stephen stressed the last part, watching the kids in the water and inhaling deeply.

Now that Tony didn’t know. He should’ve really, after the flirty little wink he’d given when they’d first met, but Tony had chalked that up to the man showing off his impressive skills. Tony wasn’t arrogant enough that he couldn’t admit Stephen had an extraordinary repertoire of skills, and the man could fight…but he didn’t have to verbalize it.

Strange had a big enough head already.

‘You were right, this…this was needed,’ Stephen said, waving a hand at the beach, indicating the this. Tony was distracted by the tremble in his fingers, the slender scars across his fingers and the back of his hands, revealing the trauma, the pain he must have felt having pins in his bones.

He could understand that, the story scars left behind, the proof of their hubris.

‘Well, I promised you both, didn’t I? Once we got back to Earth and everyone was saved, we were going to have a holiday. No outer space travels, no insane alien overlords trying to destroy us. Just us, the sun, sea and warm lemonade,’ Tony held his up in a toast, grinning as Stephen grabbed his own can and clinked the side of it.

Morgan had stopped running in the sea and was now digging a hole in the sand with her bare hands, watching as the tide came in and filled it, trying to create a moat of sorts. Lifting her head, Tony watched the briny breeze tease her salt-crusted tangles away from her face. His love for her startled him at times, how he could love another being as much as this. He loved Peter too, the kid had been his driving force to discover the trick behind time travel, and he’d risked everything to bring him home.

Thinking about them both made other feelings surface too, black oozing things that he tried to suppress, negative feelings about why his own father couldn’t have felt the same, if one day he would treat Morgan and Peter with the same cold-hearted disregard.

‘Tony, hey douchebag, you alright?’

The sun overhead burnt his gaze gold as he lifted his eyes, leaving him dazed and blinking back tears.

‘Yeah, sorry, I’m good.’

‘You drifted away there…anything you want to talk about?’ Stephen asked, his tone careful, trying not to probe.

‘Nah, Doc, just my daddy issues rearing their ugly head again.’

Stephen looked at him then, his aquamarine eyes glowing from the sun’s reflection, and Tony felt like his gaze was burning back the layers he swathed himself in, piercing his body and reading his mind. He couldn’t explain it, but he’d always had the sense Stephen knew more than what he revealed, that he could see things in the fabric of the universe that Tony was blind to.

Fourteen million futures, each a glimpse of a possibility, how many more of them were out there? What else had Stephen seen?

‘Tony, you’re a wonderful parent,’ Stephen argued.

‘How would you know!’ He regretted the snap, knowing it was part of his self-defense mechanism, but Stephen didn’t know him that well yet to recognize it for what it was, and he opened his mouth to apologize when he suddenly found a trembling hand across his mouth.

‘Because I’ve watched you with them. I saw you with Peter on the ship, the sheer horror in your eyes when you thought you’d brought him to his death, I could literally hear your brain trying to think of a way to send him home. With Morgan, Tony, you worship the ground she walks on, you’re caring, attentive…’ Stephen trailed off, a slight redness to his cheeks as he let his hand fall.

Tony went to warn him that he was burning from the sun when he caught sight of Stephen’s gaze fixed on his lips. Feeling daunting, he let the tip of his tongue come out to wet his bottom lip, suppressing his laugh when he saw Stephen’s blush deepen, his gaze turning back towards the sea.

He could do one of two things here. Ignore what had just happened and go back to the carefree attitude they were enjoying at the beach, or address the issue and explore the possibilities of what it could mean for them. Despite how quickly his brain tended to work, the way it could create possible scenarios and see them through in order for him to select the best one, Tony found himself hesitating.

‘When you said it’s hard to love a hero…were you referring to yourself?’ Tony asked.

Stephen didn’t answer for a moment, his gaze now on the Cloak shielding the kids from the worst of the sunshine, its collar dipping down as it tried to examine the castle Peter was building beside Morgan’s moat.

‘It’s not hard to love you,’ Stephen answered, his words nearly lost in the breeze.

‘I’ll have you know it’s near impossible to love me,’ Tony joked, his mouth moving faster than his brain. ‘I’m a mess, I forget about people when I’m inventing, I’ll always put the safety of Earth before my partner-’

Stephen’s mouth on his made his ramblings stop, the touch of shaking fingers on his jaw felt like wind brushing over sunburnt skin, blistering and soothing in equal measure.

‘It’s because of those things that I like you,’ Stephen murmured against his lips. ‘It’s not the idea of you I love, Tony Stark, I know who you are. Fourteen million versions of you.’

Despite the surprise he felt at this revelation, the clench in his gut from the anticipation of what this could mean, Tony smiled against his lips, leaning closer.

‘Sorry I didn’t ask,’ Stephen whispered across his mouth. ‘Can I kiss you again, Tony?’ His free hand covered Tony’s on the sand as the other continued to sweep across his jawbone, down to his throat and back again.

‘I could be persuaded,’ Tony agreed with a laugh, pretending to fight off Stephen’s tongue invading his mouth, falling back to the ground dramatically. ‘Why, Doctor Strange, I didn’t know you had it in you!’ he mock gasped, wriggling away from Stephen’s lunge, and getting to his feet as he scrambled down to the water.

‘Prepare to eat seawater, Stark,’ Stephen growled from behind him, giving chase.

He’d never seen himself in this position five years ago, hadn’t been able to see past the frigid metal walls of the doughnut ship as he hurtled forward on his suicide mission, but he was glad events had led him here. Looking over his shoulder at Stephen’s skin gleaming in the light as he pelted after Tony on the beach, he screamed for Morgan to save him, cackling as she ordered the Cloak to stop the Sorcerer Supreme.

This wasn’t where he saw his life at all, divorced, a beautiful daughter, an all but adopted mutant child, a sentient Cloak and a potential wizard boyfriend, but he was happy.

For the first time in years, he could say with complete honesty that he was content with his life.

#ironstrange #Fanfiction #anon ask #thanks anon! #thanks for the ask!

[samatedeansbroccoli]

I need some alex x farah plz

What do we even call this mini fic?

Order

Yeah, that seems good.

As usual, I’m lazy and didn’t do much but type and queue this. If there are mistakes, I am sorry.

Taglist: @helenpxrk @enderio @satan-incarnate-666 @ricinbach @smokeywhalee @echo-three-one and the anon! (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

"Easy, sister. He's not stable yet. And he has yet to wake."

A small nod of her chin towards the doctor, and the door opens up to reveal a rather sterile room. Though the lights are dimmed, it’s still feverishly bright, making her eyes squint. Her ears pick up on little tweets and pumps coming from the machines and her eyes follow the sound, tracing the tubes until they reached the sleeping patient. Somehow, her footsteps have become a deafening beat no matter how softly she walks. She worries she would wake him with them, but he doesn't stir.

Slow steps towards the side of the ER bed finally result in a perfect angle over him. He's not awake, but he doesn't need to be. Farah would rather have him sleep until he's better than talk to her. Until he can ensure his recovery, she thinks.

She slides a chair close to the bedside and sits down. According to the doctors, she’s his first visitor. What did that mean? That Alex has no family nor friends who care about him? That he's just seen as an asset and not a cousin or a colleague, however the west addresses their friends?

She doesn't know. But she's here for him.

Farah slips her hand into Alex's, feeling the calloused fingers against her equally bruised and beaten hand. To think he could have had an end to his story that wouldn't include suffering. To have an end that so many wished: painless, quick, easy. And yet, when the C4s went off and Death opened her door to let him in, Alex slammed it shut before her face and spat on it.

She chuckles at the thought.

But now comes the hard part. The part she was even allowed in the hospital for despite having been told she’s not immediate family. She promised she could wake him. Or find a sign that he is awake so the doctors know if they should prepare for a long term coma or not.

But what does one talk about to a man who may not even hear her? Perhaps he’s awake in the mind but unable to tell his body to follow. Perhaps he’s gone yet his body still carries on. She’d like to believe he’s simply resting.

"You followed well," she says, letting her mind flow with thought until words selected themselves. . "You did exactly what I ordered."

'Of course, I would,' she can almost hear him saying. 'I'm a soldier. I'll follow you into the dark if that's what it takes.'

Oh, how she wishes it wasn't just her mind coming up with such things, but his own voice assuring her he would make it through.

Her eyes peer down at where his missing leg is. It's a miracle Alex survived without fatal infection, so she has been told. Had he not been so close to the explosion, the injury wouldn’t have been cauterized and he wouldn’t have made it much farther than a few feet from the site. Too close, and he would have died. She’s glad that some Russians have a bit of heart and saved him from dying alone, alerting the U.S. military they found one of their soldiers.

Now, safe in the military base Laswell has set up outside the perimeter of Urzikstan, Alex sleeps peacefully in a coma, waiting for his body to settle and the infection to slow its beating so his leg can be properly fitted with a new prosthetic.

"I have another order.” Farah swears she can almost see Alex staring at her with those intense attentive eyes that Garrick sometimes jokes matches a border collie’s. "I want you to wake up soon. It's been six weeks since you have been brought in a coma.” And Farah holds his hand tighter, bringing his fingers to her lips and whispering against them, “I miss you."

Alex gives no response to her order, but she wouldn't expect otherwise. Farah kisses his fingers then lowers his hand, though she still holds on. “I have to go.”

Farah presses her forehead to his briefly as she closes her eyes, listening to Alex's ever so calm breathing. Here, he is truly at peace, and though the turmoil inside her keeps her from fully joining, she too feels a calm when listening to his rhythmic breathing. He’s alive. He’s still with her. And that’s all she needs to know for now.

She draws her head away and squeezes his hand. "I'll see you again soon."

She swears she feels him squeeze back.

#call of duty #modern warfare 2019 #modern warfare #mw 19 #farah karim #alex echo 3 1 #echo 3 1 #Farah x Alex #they’re 100% done with each other

[wren-rambles]

The 13th Doctor & the Valeyard

There have been some people speculating that 13 is going to become the Valeyard, so I thought I'd talk about it and inform anyone who doesn't already know about the Valeyard. Let's dive in!

For anyone who doesn't know this is the Valeyard:

He is essentially the Doctor's opposite, an amalgamation of the darker parts of the Doctor. It is said that he is somewhere between the 12th and final incarnations.

[TLDR: Most probably 13 will not become the Valeyard. Given new information from series 12, the Valeyard likely comes from a previous regeneration cycle, if he’s even an incarnation of the Doctor at all]

{television history! feel free to skip}

He put the 6th Doctor on trial in Gallifreyan court, in which if he were to be found guilty, he would be sentenced to death. The Valeyard's claims against the Doctor were that the Doctor's meddling in the universe and how he 'helps' ultimately causes too many issues and disrupts the natural order and natural evolution of the universe. Throughout season 23, the trial occurs showcasing different times the Doctor has caused grievances instead of simply helping.

Later in the trial, the Doctor claims the matrix (replaying events as evidence) has been tampered with and is falsely showing how events played out. It turns out that the Master entered the Matrix and revealed that anyone with a good key could do so. Ultimately it's revealed by the Master that the Valeyard is a future incarnation of the Doctor. It was also revealed that the Valeyard made a deal with Gallifrey to prosecute the Doctor and if he won, he'd be promised the remainder of the Doctor's regenerations. In this, The Valeyard falsified information shown from the Matrix (using his own key).

{other media history!}

The Valeyard's origin story has been told and retold and considered very unreliable due to the inconsistent accounts that have been shared. Especially because most accounts are not his own. (They come from different audio stories.)

This means it’s entirely possible he isn’t an incarnation of the Doctor at all.

Other than this, the Valeyard has been mentioned or appeared in novels, audios, and comics. It's not very often he's mentioned on screen again, but very recently he was still said to be in the 11th Doctor's future (The Name of the Doctor). And again 12 was called the "Shadow of the Valeyard" by testimony (Twice Upon a Time).

{end of history}

Theory time!

So, the general theory is that the 13th Doctor is on her way to become the Valeyard. There do seem to be some visual cues that make the Valeyard and the 13th Doctor correlate.

The main similarity is in the outfits color palette's, The prominent colors being black, with white/grey accents.

The similarities with costume continue with the headwear/hood that they wear, also being the same colors.

Although this may just have been for the trials sake, the Valeyard seems to generally disapprove of the interference by the Doctor. The 13th Doctor has said something similar recently as well, she says to the general "sometimes men like you who make me wonder why I bother with humanity," (War of the Sontarans) which aligns with the Valeyard's ‘apparent’ morals!

I will say here that I think this was just the Valeyard’s attempt at gaining the high courts trust so he could betray them.

That being said, this isn't the first time the Doctor has expressed sentiments like this. They have wondered why they help the human race if its not appreciated, or the humans don't listen and make messes they can't fix. Yet the Doctor still insists on helping, because that's who they are. The Doctor cares for life, looks for the silver lining, and is reminded of it through their companions.

And ever since this trial where the Valeyard was revealed, the Doctor has done as much as they can to try not to become them, even going as far as to make sure incarnations they have met are not him.

During the trial, there were moments where the Valeyard claims not to remember certain details, like altering the matrix or having made a deal for more lifetimes (it was said that he pretended not to remember).

If 13 is to become the Valeyard it would make sense for the Valeyard not to remember such deals, because she never did and would have no need to.

Some inconsistencies to the theory are:

Based on what she learned in Series 12, she already knows there isn't a limit to her regenerations, so there would be no need to make a deal with the Gallifreyan High Council for more regenerations.

There are also inconsistencies presented in the different origins or explanations of where the Valeyard comes from. Example: the Master stating that the Valeyard comes from "somewhere between your twelfth and thirteenth regeneration" (Novelization of 'the Ultimate Foe') that means the Valeyard would've already happened, before 13 came into existence.

Considering some evidence that he’s a future incarnation:

The 11th Doctor was told the Valeyard was still in his future. Time has been described as very hard to read, so I’d imagine it’s easy to mistake some future for some past (especially given the Doctor’s lifetimes have been reset time and time again since the birth of Gallifreyan society)

Assuming that in other media, the Valeyard references things from this lifetime of the Doctor’s it’s questionable of how he knows. He has been inside the matrix (however many times and for however long while undetected) which houses all time lord consciousnesses and knowledge, there’s no telling how much he looked through it and watched.

Conclusion:

Given the new information from series 12, that the Valeyard is most likely from a previous set of lives/incarnations. It would make sense seeing as the Valeyard is very willingly working for Gallifrey and supporting their processes as well as exploiting it for his own gain, only to backstab them in the process. It also primarily fits into the Doctor (our Doctor) actively trying not to become the Valeyard.

And if 13 were to become “the Valeyard” I don’t think it would be a literal full takeover like what they’ve feared (and what the Valeyard has threatened) over time, I think it would just be an embracing of the darker side and taking on the mantle more than anything.

#doctor who #doctor who flux #series 13 #doctor who theory #thirteenth doctor #13th doctor #sixth doctor #6th doctor #the valeyard

[mnemosyne-musing]

You. Me. Handcuffs (Prompt #2) River/Ten

“Ow! You’re twisting my arm!”

“No!” River retorts, yanking her arm back towards her, “You’re twisting my arm while I am trying to get us out of here.”

She turns her head and glares at the Doctor as he pulls his arm back. Unfortunately, as her right wrist is currently shackled to his left wrist, all he succeeds in doing is also dragging her arm towards him.

“Get us out of here?” he exclaims indignantly, “You’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place.”

River rolls her eyes and slumps back against the wall, her right arm still held at an awkward angle above her head. She loves all incarnations of her husband, she truly does. However, when she’s expecting a nice romantic anniversary dinner with her husband and she ends up dealing with a rather belligerent and suspicious tenth version of himself then it can get a little wearisome.

“I didn’t know they valued that goblet so highly,” she huffs as he turns to stare at her, “How was I to know they’d throw us in here?”

“You used their ceremonial goblet as a martini glass,” the Doctor manages to utter from between gritted teeth as he glares at her, “What did you think would happen?”

“Ooh, I don’t know, sweetie? Free cocktails all night?” River retorts somewhat petulantly as the Doctor now rolls his eyes at her and returns to fiddling with their handcuffed wrists.

River watches him for a few moments.

“You’ll never get them open like that.”

He ignores her and continues to wiggle a small piece of wire into the lock. The guards had unfortunately confiscated his sonic along with her vortex manipulator when apprehending them.

She tries again. “Seriously, Doctor, that won’t work.”

“Of course it will,” he mutters, “I just need to- ah-ha! Oh-“

His moment of triumph is exceedingly short-lived as the handcuffs do not release but seem to tighten even further around their wrists.

“Dammit!” the Doctor flings the piece of wire across the small cell in frustration.

River rolls her eyes once more at his dramatics. Honestly, she’s surprised she doesn’t get an eye injury at times from putting up with his younger selves.

“You’re so much grumpier in handcuffs when you’re younger,” she observes airily as she discreetly rummages in her cleavage with one hand and so misses the way he briefly tenses at her words. She finds the tube of lipstick she had stashed down there and quietly pops the cap off and applies it as best she can with just one hand free.

She’s almost done when she turns to find him staring at her in disbelief.

“You’re putting on lipstick?” he gapes at her incredulously, gesturing around them with his free hand, “We’re stuck in this prison cell and you’re fixing your make-up?”

River pretends to fluff her hair and flutters her eyelashes at him. “Well, a girl’s gotta look her best at all times,” she simpers before her eyes narrow speculatively, “And, I’m sorry, sweetie-“

“Sorry?” he turns to look at her, a confused expression on his face, “What do you mean, sorry, ah-“ his words are cut off as she suddenly grabs his shirt lapel in her free hand and hauls him into her, kissing him firmly on the lips. He gives a muffled yelp of surprise initially but then responds far more enthusiastically than she’d anticipated given all of his sniping at her. As they break apart breathlessly a few moments later, he opens his eyes and peers blearily at her, suddenly realising what she’s done to him.

“You’ve- you’ve poisoned me!” he mumbles as his head slumps back against the wall, the hand that had found its way into her hair now falling limply down by his side.

“It’ll wear off soon, my love,” River apologises as she reaches up to their handcuffed wrists and quickly jimmies the lock open.

She stands up, stretching her arms and neck and looks down at the Doctor who is gazing up at her in a drug-induced haze. She does feel a little bit bad but, really, they were getting nowhere with him being all stubborn and she has a date to get to. She bends down and brushes a kiss to his cheek.

“Bloody. Handcuffs,” the Doctor mumbles dazedly as she stands up again and heads towards the door.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” River apologises again as she picks the lock open, “You do enjoy them when you’re older,” she adds with a wink as the door clicks open, “I promise!”

#river x ten #riverdoctorpromptweek #river song #my fic #this is mostly pointless banter and I need a title #but I wrote it last night and couldn’t think of one

[palbabor-writes]

Sinew sin·ew/ˈsinyo͞o/ noun a piece of tough fibrous tissue uniting muscle to bone or bone to bone; a tendon or ligament.

warnings: SPOILERS FOR BNHA 270 onward, tw.discriptions of gore & blood, mentions of sexual touch, wee bit of muscle kink  

notes: for @sunshinepunches​ - sorry it took so long! i kith you & beg your forgiveness :]​

It’s been months.

Almost 122 days have faded into nothingness, wholly dedicated to bland preparations and distant memories; littered with promises, with the omnipresent foreshadowing of his return. 

In late April, as the buds of flowers opened and the world eased into the brightening spring, he would emerge from his chemical chrysalis, fully effectuated, ready to destroy and decay. Shigaraki would return to you in the spring.

You wondered what would be different. 

How would he behave? How would he be, once he held the prepotency of All For One within the palm of his hand? Would it change him? Mentally? Physically?

You liked him as he was. He was lithe, sleek, perfect. He valued his speed and the prowess of the quirk that lay within the tips of his fingers, relying on his honed instincts and good sense to see him through. 

But he needed more. He was avariciousness incarnate when he slunk into those moods, always grasping, scrabbling for the pieces he needed to progress forward.

He didn’t say no to the modifications, the enhancements. Why should he? After all, this is the first time he’s ever taken the easy path and he deserves to meander on the upward march to his crown.

It’s hard to see him. 

There’s too much dust, too much blood, too much that has been split apart. But he’s there, you can sense him, can feel the sheer heat of his presence, as if he’s pressed against your side. 

You need to get closer, you have to.

At the crest of the hill you pause, lungs heaving and legs shaking as you peer past the sheen of battle. There. He’s down there. 

The ground is uneven beneath your feet and you snag your toes on the loose rocks, but you keep pushing forward. The sun is ablaze in the robin blue sky and you follow the pearlescent halo of his hair, pulled, like some loadstar, toward your goal. 

He’s been in the weeds. 

He’s likely had no rest, no reprieve from the threat of attack, but he moves onward. Determination and willpower have never been attributes that he’s lacked. You hated it then, before the PLF, before the doctor, and you hate it now. He’ll rip himself apart one day, all for the want of his dream.

There’s deep divides that criss cross his arms. Some carry rivulets of crimson, of deep ichor and tattered skin, but God, how can he still be alive, when he looks like that? It’s an affront, a horror, and some discordant note rings within your inner ear and vibrates outward, chattering your teeth as it passes. 

Then, before your eyes, his skin begins to smooth. Tendons reconnect and joints flow upright. It reforms the man that you’ve come to know, molding him, like clay, into something both terrible and beautiful. 

His arms are the first to stretch. 

The newly cabled lengths coil and flex, biceps and triceps curling. The tattered fabric of that woebegone cape struggles to withstand the quick shake that he gives it, rattling the string of beads that connect it across his neck. 

Oh. That’s changed too.

His neck was once the bulkiest thing on him and you loved to dance your fingers across the dips and bunches of muscles, easing the strain his ever insistent slouch put upon him. But now? Now he looks like he’s been cast in marble.

The planes of his pectorals jerk and swell as he proudly lifts himself to his full height, shock white hair flowing about his pleased face. He’s robust in a way you’ve never seen. It’s not overkill. No, there’s not one ounce of excess and he’s still holding that familiar lean silhouette, it’s just been augmented with a little more power.

The lines of his legs are beveled, thighs blocked with steely virility and a deep-seated threat. His calves are tensed and the newness of that round bulge of muscle makes your mouth dry. 

He’s not massive. Not weighed down with the bulk and heft of some men, but he’s certainly not the same. 

Your fingers twitch at your side and you scratch your nails against the soft skin of your palm, tongue swiping over your lip as you watch him move. He’s still got that grace and fluidity, it’s just has the force of his new brawn behind it now.

What will that feel like? Will he break you? So unsure of his new strength that you’ll just shake to pieces between his broad hands, torn apart, splintered and scattered at his feet.

Or will it feel like he’s passing that strength on to you? Will he trap you between strong thighs, pinning your arching hips under him as he braces those stacked arms beside your head?

You’ve never had much luck withstanding his advances, to tempted by that hush of his scarred lips against your skin. You can feel the tacky stick of your budding arousal, hot against your inner thigh, sighing as it eases its way under the cleft of your ass and down your leg. You want to touch him, to drag your hands down those well built curves until he’s all you know, wiped clean by the promise of what he can do.  

Yes, he’s a walking terror and you can’t wait to have him all to yourself.                        

#now this is a better length #lookie here #i didn't blow this thing into an essay #tw: blood #tw: gore #bnha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #tenko shimura #shimura tenko #muscle #muscle kink #drabble #pal and friends #sunshinepunches

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shadows and Pills - 3 (end)

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it. Thank you to all my friends, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield and @glassjacket .

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: Shadows and Pills: Part 1 | Part 2 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills -

3 (end)

Morning routine: Can’t wake up if you never went to sleep.

Alarm clock’s broken, anyway. Can’t…

Shower is too far. Not sure she can stand.

Meds…

Dry swallowing sucks. Maybe...give the doc a call. She could try the emergency number.

Getting locked up has to be better, has to-

She can’t find her phone at first. It takes a while to make it out of her bedroom. Her legs don’t seem to want to support her, and it’s oddly painful on her wrists to pull herself up. Maybe she hurt them when she fell out of bed.

Her vision is wavering, and she has to take frequent breaks on the short trek to the kitchen. She considers trying to eat something. It’s been so long, she can’t remember the last time she-

Oh. No food in the apartment. Yeah, so. No, then. No.

What was…

Phone. Doctor. Emergency number.

She grips the back of a chair, forcing numb feet to shuffle on.

Phone. Doctor. Emergency number.

Another step. One more. But why? She doesn’t even know where the damned phone is, anyway.

Phone. Doctor. Emergency number.

Her new mantra carries her across the small apartment, reminding her sieve of a brain of her purpose, no matter how many times she loses track. When she spots her cell phone no more than ten feet away, she almost weeps with relief, but she can’t spare the energy. She allows a single strangled whimper to escape her cracked lips as she fixates on the black rectangle as the lifeline it is.

One more step. And another. And another.

But the phone remains just beyond her fingertips, just beyond her reach, no matter how close she gets. It takes nearly ten minutes of concentrated effort to realize that she’s no closer to the phone than when she started, that she will never reach it.

He won’t let her.

She drops. There’s...why bother...she’s just so tired. And empty. She can’t remember the last time...the last...she can’t-

She can’t remember.

…

Afternoon routine: She. She is.

She was.

She knows she was, once. She had. And she did. But now she doesn’t, she isn’t, she.

Can’t.

She can’t remember.

She wants to stand, to move, to sleep, to eat, to call...someone, she knows she was going to call someone, but-

She wants anything, anything beyond this slump on the cold, hard floor. But she doesn't have a damned thing left. Her eyes track the shadows as they slowly parade across the room, chasing the setting sun.

A final tear rolls down her cheek when she realizes she can’t remember her name.

And then her tears are gone, too.

You are ready for Me now.

“Who-“

Gentle, infinitely powerful arms lift her from the floor, and she feels the sensation of moving without effort. It’s so nice, peaceful even, not having to make an effort. It’s been a long time since anything was so easy. She wonders for a moment why the fingers pressing against her skin feel so right.

Shouldn’t they be cold? It seems like she’s always been cold, but now, the hands, the arms, her breathing, everything just feels easier.

Better.

Rest now, child. Find your peace. Everything will be easier now.

Then the arms are lowering her, and she knows a moment of panic where she is falling, falling for so long, drowning in the oily, choking cesspool-

Hush now. You will know bliss and joy once more. Accept Me, take Me in, and you need never suffer again. I am your salvation.

She takes in a shuddering breath, and the effort alone nearly steals her consciousness. The pain is creeping back in; she has meds for that, there are pills that could-

I am your opium. Breathe Me in, and I shall flow through you, sing elation in your very blood. No more struggle, no more nightmares, only solace and sanctuary.

So tired. She could do it, she really could, though.

Rest, love. Let me comfort you, take your burdens.

Fingers, perfectly warm and gentle, smooth the furrowed lines on her brow, pressing comfort into the creases, tracing soothing patterns on her delicate, papery skin. For the first time in as long as she can remember, she feels cared for, cherished and comforted.

She’s forgotten everything. And now she’s beginning to forget even that. Why was she fighting? Who was she fighting?

There is no one but Us, My pet. Rest now, I will carry your burdens. Will you let Me heal you now?

The question hangs in the air, heavy and much more than it seems, but Alexa is too tired to battle through the implications anymore. She’s done.

“Yes.”

…

“Glad to see you’ve taken advantage of my vacation to make some progress. How are your sleep patterns the last week or so?”

Alexa surveys the doctor quietly for a moment, considering.

“Definitely longer stretches at a time. There are still nightmares, but I don’t remember most of them.”

The doctor’s pen scratches for a moment, then, “Any flashbacks?”

“Fewer. I’ve been trying some of your other suggestions. The meditation seems to help, especially before bed. It’s easier to fall asleep.”

“Good, good. I’m glad you’re seeing some progress at last. Now, who are we up to this week?”

“Actually, Doctor,” Alexa says, standing and gathering her coat and purse, “I have some work I need to get done and sent in to the office before they close for the day. I apologize for cutting short, but I promise I’ll have more progress to report at our next session.”

She turns away from the doctor, opening his office door and departing before he has time to recover from his shock. There will probably be a worried or stern voicemail on her phone later, but, then again, maybe he’ll be impressed enough by her...progress...to leave well enough alone.

Small blessings.

She presses the button for the elevator, then pauses a moment as she waits. A mirror hangs on the wall next to the elevators, and she studies her reflection carefully. A slow, careful smile spreads over her face, and blue eyes sparkle back at her from the angles and curves of her pleased expression.

“Excellent progress,” she murmurs. The elevator announces its arrival with a diminutive ding, and the doors slide open. Alexa steps inside, still smiling as the doors close.

#rape #loki #dark loki #mcu #dark mcu #marvel #dark marvel #torture #abuse #self harm #self neglect #psychosis #hallucinations #stalking #supernatural horror #prescription drug use #prescription drug abuse #mental illness #ptsd #flashbacks #flashbacks of violence #tragedy #no happy ending #starving #isolation #gaslighting #mental spiraling #mental abuse #emotional abuse #denial

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

please do make a list of Korean Isekai you’ve read, I’ve been wanting to get into them more 👀

And the word has been spoken

I was going to use images for each but tumblr only allows 10 or them 😑. Imma list all isekais/re incarnation webtoons that I personally recomend, a note though that last night I actually opened just a few more tabs with new ones to read so I may give this list an update later lol.

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Long list bellow!

Doctor Elise

Not exactly my best recomendation seeing I kind of dropped reading it but I still go back from time to time. Main character is currently on her 3rd re incarnation and set on being a surgeon and making use of all her knowledge on earth. It's actually really interesting! Reason I dropped is more related to the romance, but that is simply out of my own personal preference and I don't consider it bad at all.

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The Justice of Villanous Woman

Also dropped but it was actually because I missed too many updates and now I need to re read it jajdjxkwhdjskaj, it's not a WOW story but it's good, specially since the main character is pretending to act like a villainess (two faced on purpose) against the ACTUAL villainess who was just pretending to be nice. It was a really good twist.

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La Dolche Vita di Adelaide

This one is actually completed! And it's really good too!! The female lead is very assertive and the male lead is one or those that can be pretty shy lol. It's a really nice read.

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Reminiscence Adonis

Badass female lead that I would gladly let step on me. It's really good but I also dropped due to missing too many updates lololol. The main character and the male lead basically flirt with each other all the time later in the story it's ridiculous l o l o l o l.

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The Abandoned Empress

Though I dropped due to it not being my cup of tea it may just be yours since although not my preference I can't deny the story is actually good. Female lead was done so much wrong to her in the past and is trying to change her destiny even against God.

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Survive as The Hero's Wife

One of my favorites big time!!! Female lead is amazing and male lead is so. damn. cute I can't even. Also ART????? It's so damn pretty. Female lead re incarnated inside a novel, she makes a REALLY good use of all her knowledge.

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They Say I Was Born a King's Daughter

Not gonna lie this is just one I read to pass the time. Entertaining enough though the story itself is, ???????. It takes a while to get used to the art style. Though I only find it mildly interesting, it can be really good to someone else. And I really cannot say that this one is in any way bad because it absolutely isn't. Prepare for frustration directly related to strong mysoginy though.

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The Reason Why Raeliana Ended Up At The Duke's Mansion

Another one I dropped because I missed too many updates jshbdcjshejcksjenfoskjfjoa but it's really good and the main character basically takes to shit. Her main goal is scape death.

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Miss Not-So Sidekick

This one is a very comedy centered one , I dropped due to the fact because updates are pretty damn slow I ended up loosing the track of the thing, what I am doing now is waiting for it to basically end so I can read it all in one sit. It's actually pretty good and the art style is very unique!

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Suddenly Became a Princess One Day

ALL TIME FAVORITE OH MY GOD WITH EVERY UPDATE I LOSE ANOTHER YEAR OF MY LIFE SPAM. Just, just give it a go. The art is BEAUTIFUL, the characters extremelly well made, and the main character is just fucking great I love her.

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I Was Born As The Demon Lord's Daughter

Another one I dropped due to slow updates that caused me to lose track;; But it's actually good! And the autor did the thing many don't do in these stories: have the main character actually be someone and give her a story that actually becomes reason of many of her actions and feelings in her current life. Also soft good Dad uvu.

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The Emperor's Companion

This one was too frustrating so I ended up dropping but I can't deny it's good so I will recomend it. To wake up in a body of someone who was supposed to have a lot of responsability but has been in a coma basically all her life which resulted in her underlings going ape shit under corruption and now that she's awake she gotta fix it.

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The Villainess Reverses The Hourglass

ANOTHER ALL TIME FAVORITE AND THE ART IS SO GOOD TOO. The main character is NOT pretending to be a villainess, she is straight up made of wrath and spite and is set on ruining those who ruined her first in her previous life.

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The Duchess With an Empty Soul

So. Damn. Interesting!!!! The way the main character is portrayed wasn't something I have seen many do, and she's a badass!! Male lead is a good man uwu. Also it's one of those with 'marry me but don't expect love'.

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A Stepmother's Marchen

One 👏 More 👏 Favorite 👏 the art is BEAUTIFUL, the characters are WELL MADE, and I just LOVE the interactions between them, be it from interactions I want to punch one of them in the face to interactions where I just am in love. Also OLD PEOPLE ARE DRAWN SO BEAUTIFULLY. The art in this one is just BEAUTIFUL and I really can't even-

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Beware of The Brothers!

Same creator as Suddenly Became a Princess One Day, only this one is actually deal with a lot more, serious (?), subjects in which one(just a single one) of them was the reason I dropped. But in fact, said subject is currently being really well fucking written, so although not my cup of tea, it definetelly deserves a chance.

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Beware of The Villainess!

I KNOW many of you know this one and I KNOW all of you also love the female lead, the blue werewolf, the *cough* lesbian *cough* heroine and the maid. I love them too. It's a REALLY good one and it also is one of my all time favorites. Be ready to want to kill some guys though lol.

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Lucia

Just- just read it. It's GOOD. And recent updates just started going deeper. Please. It's good, I promise-

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The Evil Lady Will Change

It's also pretty damn good and also has the thing with 'marry me but don't expect love'. Both female and male lead are actually pretty good guys but their reputation was twisted so now they are seen as villanious like in public eye.

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Priscilla's Marriage Request

Powerful female lead that is set on avoiding the outcomes of her previous life. But of course, once one manages to change the course of the previous story a new one starts, and in that new one she won't have her previous knowledge for it. Also she has a crush on the male lead ever since her previous life l o l.

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This is an Obvious Fraudulent Marriage

Female lead is quite oblivious and the male lead only becomes better with time. The female lead may throw a few tauntruns but they're never annoying. I really like this one.

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I Became The Villain's Mother

Also dropped because of slow updates, to be reborn as the mother in a family of villains and trying to give them the love they lacked. Both father and son and little shits.

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The Villain's Saviour

Though the fact that the female lead cries way too much is a bit annoying, the story is so damn interesting. Male lead is basically a literal psychopath. The drama is off the charts too, specially since this one also makes use of Soulmate Marks.

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Beatrice

One more on the list of dropped because of slow updates so now I am waiting for it to basically end so I can read it all in one sit. The fact she is insekaid is only shown at chapter 4 nsksjxksnekxjasfo, it's a good one though.

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IRIS - Lady With a Smarthphone

Although I wish they would have actually focused more on the fact that she has a phone and put it to more use, it's actually a really interesting story in which the female lead is aiming to destroy everything related to all the pain she faced in her past life, and she is being very through with it.

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The Youngest Princess

Badass female lead re incarnated in the same world so it's not isekai but it's very much re incarnation. Family interactions are great in this one lolololol, female lead is really good as a character. I have re read this one quite a few times though it's still very much only on the beggining of the whole thing.

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The Duchess' 50 Tea Recipes

Came for the isekai, stayed for the female lead's obsession with tea to the point you could make memes about it. Poor male lead losing his position to TEA. It's in all honestly one of my all time favorites and though it is very focused on tea, it's very entertaining as it deals with other subjects too. It's so amazing how some problems were actually solved with tea. Very recomended.

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Chitra

When you are reborn in a world that of all game functions it has decided to be GATCHA. It's really damn good though and the art is hella great, extra plus for comedy material lololololol.

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The Villainess Lives Twice

Female lead is very particular, she isn't nice but she isn't necessarily evil, her actions are pretty manipulative due to it being all she has ever known and she uses herself as a mere tool to have others achieve their goals, automatically achieving her own goals. I just find the way she works really interesting as she goes against those who ruined her in the past.

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A Capable Maid

Not really isekai nor re incarnation but I felt the need to put it here due to the fact that not only it is great but also due to the fact that the female lead had visions of several times in history that has helped her in many tasks.

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A Returner's Magic Should Be Special

Now I'm not sure if it's korean but I love it so it's here. This time we have a male main character, it's really damn good and I read it all first in one sit. Main character went back in time before apocalypse right after he just destroyed the cause of said apocalypse in the future. Now he is aiming to avoid the apocalyspe alltogether and make sure his loved ones stay alive and well this time around.

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The Pet of The Villainess

This one is so damn interesting, seriously. It destroyed so many too often used tropes in these kinds of webtoons and its PERFECT. I seriously recomend it just from the fact it takes a completelly different approach to many now "cliches" in these kind of webtoons.

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Please Throw Me Away

Another interesting one, male lead is a huge puppy in love with a distrustfull cat female lead. Her family is shit and I would pay to have them destroyed. Have I said the male lead is a huge fucking puppy.

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Actually, I Was The Real One

When you are accused of being fake and sentenced to death only to be told by the fake herself that you were actually the real one all this time. Main characters has no socializing habilities and it's cute lol, she is doing her best. This time she is making sure to try to avoid the same ending, and searching to know why she was brought back in time.

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I Became The Hero's Mom

This girl took stanning to the next level and decided that no, since now I have the chance I will make sure my favorite character grows up as a happy child being loved and smiling instead of suffering. Male lead is the dad and he is so fucking great.

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A Young Lady is a Royal Chef

This one is pretty centered in food as the title says, it's pretty new so the story hasn't gotten a chance to fully develop just yet but it's still interesting enough to keep me hooked.

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When The Villainess Loves

B O I, I DIDN'T EXPECT TO LOVE IT BUT I DID AND HAVE RE READ IT MANY TIMES AND I NEED MORE UPDATES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Anyways this can actually manage to hurt your feelings with "fake angst" and I give kudos to that lolololol. The male characters are killing me seriously, they're too cute, then too hot, then too cute, THEN TOO HOT, BUT THEN S O C U T E-

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I've Become The Villanious Empress of a Novel

Also one fairly new to the point the story hasn't fully developed yet, I really like it solely for the fact the female lead is now on the road to fix the bullshit around her. She's also a badass I would gladly let step on me.

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Shadow Queen

A big FUCK YEAH to this one because the main character deserves it. After dying to a very thought out plan and even having her son killed, she is now planning on turning the tables and ruining the ones making the plan from inside. She is amazing and I love her pls read.

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The Lady and The Beast

Honestly this one is both comedy gold and angsty at the same time the mix of feelings makes me go jshejdhsowjebfoshexiwnnfso, it's so hella great though, it's also basically new but it has developed it's story quite a bit.

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This Girl is a Little Wild

And to finish this list on a gold but sad key, this one is also one of my all time favorite, the female and male lead are adorable and ridiculous together and I love them, the main character is so likeable and the plot has so many puzzles but, rumor says the original creator has dropped this, thought it is sad I hope said creator is okay, even incompleted it's still a really damn good read.

#korean isekai masterlist #made while half asleep sorry for typos currently fixing akdjxaiwnfaidnxioa

[feralrunaway]

A New Day

CHAPTER 4

Summary: Captain Syverson finishes his latest tour and returns to his hometown only to find that things have changed since he’s been gone.

Warnings:  Cursing, Angst, Questionable consent (non-sexual)

Word count: 3,092

Chapters: 1 , 2, 3, 4

**Hi.  This is my first fanfiction ever, so bear with me.  I don’t know what I’m doing or how to tag things.  Also, I’ve never shared a story before it’s finished, and I’m doing this chapter by chapter and it’s giving me hella anxiety. I’m sorry if this sucks! I don’t own anything related to the SandCastle movie or its characters.  However, this is my original writing and I do not give permission for use of the idea or reposting without credit.**

*Two days later*

Duct tape.  Cable ties. Pliers.  Return home.

Olivia wandered the aisles of the hardware store, list in hand, trying to memorize it.  

She always forgets.

Blake had trusted her with this errand, she didn’t want to mess it up.

Duct tape. Cable ties. Pliers. Return home.

Fixing his home office, he’d said.  But she’d have to help him, since he was busy.  Normally he didn’t let her go out on her own, she was so forgetful and he worried.  But today he needed to be at home for an important delivery and he needed her help.

So thirsty.  Maybe Blake will have water for me.  

Duct tape.  Cable ties.  Pliers.  Return home.

So thirsty.

She looked for the items, one by one. Her anxiety ratcheting up the more she struggled.

Cable ties.

She went down the next aisle, hoping desperately she would find them before she lost her focus.

“Liv?”

Sy stood at the other end of the aisle.  Eyebrow raised, he approached.

Sy.  Sy could help.  Was he a friend?  He was a friend.  Right?

“Duct tape.  Cable ties.”  She blurted out awkwardly.

He looked a bit crestfallen. “You need some cable ties darlin’?”

He grabbed a pack off the hanger.  He approached her like she was a wounded animal, slowly and gently setting them in her hand and waiting for her to grasp them.

“Cable ties.”

“Yeah, Liv.  Cable ties.  What else you got on your list there?  I could help you.” He offered hesitantly.  

She immediately thrust the list at him.  

“Duct tape. Pliers.  Return home.”

“Um…Ok.  How’d you get here, Liv?  You need a ride home?”

She nodded emphatically. Yes, return home.  That was part of her job.  

Sy helped her gather her items and check out. Yes, he raised an eyebrow at her list, but he was happy just to have the chance to have her alone for a bit.  Maybe he could glean a little about what had happened to her. He carried her bag to his truck and loaded it alongside the paint, tools, and wood he had procured for a few projects in the new house.  Liv followed obediently behind.

How had she gotten here? She couldn’t remember.  Return home.  Sy would take her home.  Yes.  He knew things.  He would get her back.  Maybe she could have some water.

Sy glanced sidelong at Liv as he pulled away from the parking lot.  “You mind lettin’ me know where you live now, sweetheart?”

“Return home.” She said firmly.  She was getting visibly squirmy, obviously fighting her own mind to remember the right words.

Sy tried for a soothing tone.  “Yes, I will take you home.  No worries. Just need you to tell me where home is, Liv.”

Home?  How did she get here?  She knew what her house looked like but she had no idea how to get there. Panic started rising in her throat.

“Do you know your caretaker’s number?  Should I call Blake?” Sy asked, wondering who had left her alone at a store in this state.

Blake?  Home.  She had to get home to finish her task or he would be mad.  God she was so thirsty!  She looked around frantically, hoping to see a bottle of water.  Sy was smart like Blake.  Why didn’t he have water?

“Thirsty! Water,” she said in a rush, curling in on herself when she seemed to realize she’d raised her voice at him.

“Hey, hey.  It’s okay.  I’ll tell you what.  Why don’t I take you back to my place and we get you some water, okay?  I’ll call my brother and figure out how to reach Blake,” he said, attempting to soothe her panic.

Water?  Yes.  Please water. Sy knew where the water was.  He would get her some.  

She visibly calmed at his suggestion, leading Sy to believe she was really just that parched.  Maybe once he’d gotten her to drink a little she would be able to tell him where she was supposed to go.  His heart cracked again to see her in this state.  What the hell had happened to his Liv?  Miss Full-of-life-Sunshine-Incarnate had been reduced to a mumbling child.  When he’d left, she had been applying to colleges.  She had wanted to be a doctor someday.  Now, in her current state, she would be lucky if she didn’t get put in a home. The thought broke his heart further, and they rode the rest of the way to his home in silence.

__________

“Yes, I know it’s double the dose.  She’s too agitated lately.  It’s like she’s fighting the stuff.”

“But, Sir, she’s already on more than most of the town.  She’ll be a drooling mess if she has much more.”

“Don’t question me. Temporary measures.  I just need her to be more docile.  At least until the wedding.  Her father too.  Hell, you can wheel him to one of the pews for all I care.  So long as he keeps his mouth shut.  Once she gets through it, we can taper off some.  Now go get her.  She should be nearly done, it was a short list.”

“Yes Sir.”

____________

 Liv eyed the glass warily.

“It’s safe, promise. Well’s been chlorinated and it’s filtered,” Sy said, proffering the glass of water again.

She was only supposed to drink from bottles.  The bottles Blake gave her.  Those were safe.  That was why Blake was in charge.  He knew the right thing to do.  But she trusted Sy, didn’t she?  She didn’t know why; she couldn’t remember why she trusted him so much.  But she knew, deep down somewhere, in memories she couldn’t access, that he wouldn’t hurt her.  Sy was smart.  

“Drink…Drink?” She asked him.

“Drink up, darlin’. I’ve gotta make a few phone calls.”

Sy left her standing in his new kitchen, rivulets of water now running down the sides of her cheeks while she greedily drank down his offering, and dialed his brother.

Jonah didn’t answer, so he left a voicemail.  “Hey, it’s Sy.  I’ve got a bit of a situation here.  Call me soon as you can.”

He returned to the kitchen to find Liv on her third glass of water, the front of her dress wet from the drips running off her chin.

“I know water in town’s been hard to come by, Liv, but damn,” he handed her a towel.  “You hungry?  Have you eaten today?”

She looked at him, her brows scrunched together, clearly trying to remember.  Finally she shrugged.

“Well isn’t that dandy,” Sy muttered.  “Have a seat,” he said, indicating the small kitchen table.

He quickly assembled a couple sandwiches, plated them up, and set one down in front of her. Sitting down across from her, he winked. “Eat up, peach.  When we’re done, I’ll try calling my brother again.”

It seemed all she needed was the command.  After taking a hesitant bite, her eyes widened and Liv attacked her sandwich like she’d not seen food in days.  Every few bites, she would look up at him and smile.  Lord if his heart didn’t burst at seeing her happy.  Despite whatever had happened to her, she was his friend, and he was glad he could still make her light up.  

She finally settled back in her seat, her belly now poking out a little, seemingly satisfied.  She watched him eat.  Studied him, more like.  She clearly understood when she was spoken to, even if she had little ability to communicate.  An injury maybe?  He’d seen men in his company have similar outcomes after head injuries.  Discharged home to live out their lives trapped in their own heads.  What a terrible fate.  He’d gotten so lucky.  

“Whatcha thinkin’ about over there, Sunshine?”

She smiled at him. “Lake.”

She remembered?  Sy could have hugged her.  Every summer as teenagers they’d sneak off to the lake whenever they could.  Swim, camp, walk through the fields and trees nearby.  It was their own secret spot they’d run to whenever they wanted time away. Whether it was just to have fun or if one of them needed to hide from home for a while.  

“Oh man, Liv.  The lake.  Hell, I haven’t seen that place in a decade.  Is it still the same?”

She nodded and smiled. She seemed so much more calm and lucid once she’d had some food and water.

“Maybe once we get you settled back home I’ll ask Blake if he minds if I take you there sometime. Would you like that sweetheart?”

She nodded again but seemed much more subdued at the mention of her caretaker.  Sy didn’t have much time to contemplate that before his phone rang.

_________

“What do you mean she’s not there?!”  Blake screamed at his assistant.

“I waited exactly where I had told her I would.  When she didn’t come back out, I went in to look for her.  The cashier thought she had seen her leave with a man.”

“There’s not a damn person in this little shit town who would take her somewhere without my permission. Did the cashier see what they were driving?”

“No, Sir.  She said they seemed friendly so she hadn’t thought anything of it.”

“Dammit Michael if you don’t find her right NOW, there will be hell to pay.”

“I’m on it Sir.”

___________

“Jude.  What’s going on?  You said a situation?”

“Uh, yeah man.  Ran into Liv at the store but she was alone. Said she needed a ride home but she can’t remember how to get there.  You wouldn’t happen to know where it is would you?” Sy asked his brother.

“She lives with Blake, I could give you his address. I’ll let him know you’re bringing her.”

“Thanks man.  And Jonah…do you know what happened to her? I had no idea she had been like this. Did she have some sort of accident?”

“An accident? No.  She’s fine.  Maybe a little quieter than most the women around here since her father got sick, but that’s probably a good thing.  She’s just doing as she should.  Blake’s a lucky man.”

“Jonah Syverson, what kind of filth did you just spill outta your mouth?  Doing as she should?  The poor woman can barely string a sentence together.  She’s not fine.  And what do you mean Blake is a lucky man?” Sy asked, his stomach dropping a bit.  He truly hoped his brother wasn’t implying what he thought.

“Jude, Olivia is Blake’s fiancée.”

______________

Once Sy had obtained Olivia’s address, he returned to the kitchen, where she sat patiently, watching the floor and waiting to be told what was next.

He crouched down into her line of sight.  

“Liv, darlin’.  I got your address.  I’m gonna be taking you home now.”

She nodded.

“Listen, I know you can’t tell me much, but I’m here for you, okay?  I don’t know exactly what’s goin’ on in this town, but you’re not gonna catch me expecting silence outta you or any other person here.”

Her eyes found his, her brow furrowed.  He wanted her to speak?  She liked talking to Sy.  She felt more focused than she had in a very long time.  Sy smiled a lot and he had water that didn’t taste like chemicals. He said nice things.  She didn’t want to go home.  She wanted to stay with Sy.  Sy was her friend.

“Friend,” she said, smiling at him.

He smiled back at her. “Yes, Liv.  Friend.  Always have been, always will be.”  

Sy knew he couldn’t keep her there forever, and he couldn’t intervene without more information.  

“Can you read okay? Use a phone?  I wanna give you my number.  You ever need anything, you call me up,” he quickly wrote it down when she nodded. “You keep this with you, okay?”  He folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of her sundress.  He didn’t have high hopes that it wouldn’t get lost, but he had at least done something.  He had enough tactical experience to know that charging in without good intel would end badly, but he also wasn’t a man of inaction.

Liv still seemed pretty well settled on the drive back to her home.  Sy tried not to let himself get too angry about her situation while they were on the road.  It wouldn’t do any good to have her interpret his mood as directed at her.  

She looked out the window as they drove.  She didn’t remember feeling this clear-headed in months.  She liked this.  Sy didn’t make her feel like she was messing up when she forgot things.  He made good sandwiches.  She giggled.  

He glanced her way. “What’s got you tickled over there?”

“I like sandwiches.”

He chuckled, surprised at the sentence and at her expressing something about herself.  “I like sandwiches too.  Happy to make you one whenever you want.” He reached over and squeezed her hand.

She smiled, but the mood seemed to pass as they pulled up toward her house.  She withdrew into herself again.  His face fell, but from what he’d seen so far, he wasn’t surprised.

He let himself out of the truck and went around to her side, opening the door and helping her down. His gaze took in the massive house, wondering what exactly this “business” was that Blake ran.  Fuckin’ suits.

The front door opened to reveal Blake standing there.  For a brief moment, the look on his face was absolutely livid, but he quickly recovered into his smooth demeanor.

“Captain Syverson. Thank you so much for bringing her home,” he looked to Olivia.  “Don’t you ever disappear on me again.  I was worried sick about you.”  Olivia stared at the porch under her feet.

“Now, listen.  She didn’t mean anything by it.  Just got a little confused is all,” Sy defended, earning a glance from Liv. “Can we take a moment to talk inside?”

Blake’s face didn’t change, but a muscle near his eye twitched slightly.  He hesitated for a moment, then smiled.  “Of course Captain.  Right this way.”  

He led them inside, past the entryway, and toward the back of the house to the kitchen.  He immediately opened the cabinet and removed two bottles of water, handing one to each of them.  Olivia robotically grasped hers, but didn’t open it.  Sy thanked him before taking a swig.  

“What is it you need to talk about, Captain?”

“Call me Sy,” he began, irritated by the formality.  Yes, it was his rank, he’d earned the respect that came with it, but he was here on leave, and this wasn’t one of his men.  Right now, he was just Sy.  “Is there a place we could talk privately?”  

Blake didn’t even look at Olivia, just said over his shoulder, “Leave us.”

With that, Olivia turned and obeyed, making her way out of the room and up the stairs.

“Now see, that’s what I’m wondering about.  My brother tells me you plan to marry Olivia.”

“I do.”

“Just seems to me she may not be in the right state to be agreein’ to such things,” Sy said.  

“There’s nothing wrong with her state, Captain.  Olivia agreed to be my wife.  We will be married at the end of the month.  I will provide for her and her father as I see fit,” Blake’s tone had taken on an edge.  Sy could tell the man damn well knew what he was doing.  He took a few more swigs of water, trying to decide what to say next without making things escalate.  It tasted like shit.  Too many chemicals or additives or something.  He briefly wondered how bad the water situation was in town that this is what they had resorted to.

“Listen, I’m just sayin’ you need to give some deep thought to her level of consent in this,” Sy said. He felt exhausted by the day all of a sudden, the fight going out of him.  

Blake’s mood seemed to shift, his demeanor once again easy and smooth.  “I’ll take your suggestion to mind, Captain. Now, if I can see you out?” He led Sy to the front door.  “Thank you for returning her home to me.”

Sy tried to hand the water bottle back to Blake, but Blake waved him off.  “Take it.  You really can’t trust the water around here.  You shouldn’t be drinking anything from a tap.  Here,” he procured a couple extra bottles from what seemed like nowhere and handed them to Sy. “Take these.  And do make sure you make it to the church this weekend.  The congregation knows how much the town has been suffering during this mess.  They’ll make sure to set you up with a case of water to get you through the week. One for every man, woman, and child who comes.  They’re really doing God’s work there.”

Sy nodded without replying. He got in his truck and went back to the house, wondering what he’d been so angry about earlier.  No mind, he’d get some sleep and get back to work on the house in the morning.

Olivia watched from the bedroom window as Sy’s truck pulled away.  She hoped she would see him again soon.  The water bottle in her hand crinkled as her grip tightened, drawing her attention for a moment.  Why do I need this?  I’m not thirsty.  I liked Sy’s water better.  She went into the bathroom and dumped the water down the drain, setting the empty bottle on her nightstand.  As she undressed to change into her pajamas, a paper fell out of the pocket of her dress. She opened the note and read:

Anytime you need me, Sunshine.

Sy

His phone number was listed at the bottom of the note.  She smiled.  Footsteps sounded on the stairs.  She quickly stashed the note in her drawer and slipped into bed.

Blake entered the bedroom, satisfied when he saw the empty bottle on the nightstand and his fiancée already asleep.  This situation could be handled.  He’d already laid the groundwork to ensure the newcomer had a supply of water. Pretty soon the Captain would no longer be an issue; could even be put to good use once he was docile enough. He returned to the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with water from the tap.  He took a long drink, already contemplating how satisfied his superiors would be with him for his success in this venture.  Pretty soon, they would be able to send in a replacement for him, and he could take himself and his pretty little docile wife back to the city.

#a new day #captain syverson #fanfic #fan fiction

[autolovecraft]

I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face.

His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. He was the devil incarnate, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. He was a scoundrel, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin! In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the company beneath his feet, he philosophically chipped away the stony brickwork; cursing when a fragment hit him in the face, and laughing when one struck the increasingly excited horse that pawed near the cypress tree. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit.

He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. There was evidently, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was not far from the tomb. He was the devil incarnate, Birch, just as I thought! He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. I'd hate to have it aimed at me!

For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last.

The tower at length finished, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died.

Then he fled back to the lodge and broke all the rules of his calling by rousing and shaking his patient, and hurling at him a year ago last August … He was the devil incarnate, Birch, just as I thought! He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the right grave. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but he could do better with four. Only the coffins themselves remained as potential stepping-stones, and as he considered these he speculated on the best mode of transporting them. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. Perhaps he screamed. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. Davis, an old-time village practitioner, had of course seen both at the respective funerals, as indeed he had attended both Fenner and Sawyer in their last illnesses.

After a full two hours Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb.

Armington helped Birch to the outside of a spare bed and sent his little son Edwin for Dr. Davis. Birch? Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he planned to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom. I'd hate to have it aimed at me! In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. I'd hate to have it aimed at me! In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider.

In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate.

He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been mocking. He was just dizzy and careless enough to annoy his sensitive horse, which as he drew it viciously up at the tomb neighed and pawed and tossed its head, much as on that former occasion when the rain had vexed it. Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily? Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago.

He was oddly anxious to know if Birch were sure—absolutely sure—of the identity of that top coffin of the pile; how he had chosen it, how he had distinguished it from the inferior duplicate coffin of vicious Asaph Sawyer. He changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but he could do better with four.

Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer.

Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon.

Why did you do it, Birch?

The skull turned my stomach, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you always did go too damned far!

[riversofmars]

Oops forgot to post this on here last night when I updated lol. Hope you’re all happy with my choice of villain. And for those who don't know the Eleven/the Thirteen yet, you'll get to know them alongside the Paternoster gang as they're totally clueless themselves lol. So real hope you enjoy this next chapter, let's see where everyone is off to!

Chapter 8: Where We Started

Glasgow, 2021

Jack returned in no time at all, at least from the perspective of the team at Torchwood Two.

“You better be grateful, this took me all night and I’m starving!“ Jack announced after materialising in the centre of the room. He was crouching in between two dead bodies, holding on to a wrist each to pull them with him through the time vortex.

“Food is still warm.“ Mickey retorted and gave Jack a hand lifting the two men onto gurneys.

“What’s so significant about them?“ Ryan asked, stepping closer. There was no obvious cause of death. Both men were young, 20s, 30s maybe and looked healthy. There was no blood, no bullet holes…

“How did they die?“ Graham asked, noticing the same thing. “Who killed them?“

“We’re not quite sure on the who yet.“ One of the Osgoods answered, steppinganswered stepping up to the body on her right. She pulled a scanner from her lab coat pocket and ran it over the dead man’s chest.

“And not sure about theon the killing either.“ The other Osgood agreed as she stepped up to the other corps, mirroring her twin’s actions with a scanner of her own.

“Well, they are dead…“ Ryan couldn’t help but point out but by now he knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

“Yes, but we’re not entirely sure they meant to kill them…“ The second Osgood replied, frowning a little at the readings she was getting.

“What do you mean by that?“ Graham asked, looking around for answers. None of the others appeared surprised so he could only presume these were not the first two cases.

“These are not murders as such, we believe these are experiments gone wrong.“ Kate revealed and Ryan and Graham exchanged concerned glances.

“We’re just not sure to what end.“ Martha came to stand next to them.

“We’re not the first to notice.“ Kate carried on. It was time they filled them in properly. She had been worried about revealing too much back in Sheffield but they could talk freely now. “When dead bodies turn up, the police do tend to get involved.“

“That’s when people started disappearing from time, being erased.“ Jack concluded.

“For examining these murders?“ Ryan frowned, deeply concerned now.

“This is why we’re doing our best to keep off the radar.“ Gwen explained as they all gathered around now. “Someone is trying to cover this up and they’re using very advanced technology to do it. You can’t just erase people from time.“

“So far, whoever is behind this has not noticed our investigation.“ Kate stated, which wasn’t to say that they wouldn’t be found out eventually.  

“Or at least they have not found a way to erase us yet.“ Jack interjected, more grimly.

“Like I said previously, people who have had dealings with the Doctor, particularly those who have travelled with them, seem to be less affected.“ Kate continued to explain and one of the Osgoods added:

“By travelling in time, you become a temporal anomaly, a complex space time event. Much harder to erase than someone who has only existed in one time period.“

“I guess that makes sense…“ It didn’t make an awful lot of sense to Ryan but he chose to just accept it.

“Either way, we have to tread carefully. Someone is using humanity as guinea pigs.“ Kate crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“And we need to find out why.“ Jack nodded. “Now that we have two bodies, we might be able to do just that. And once we know what they want, we will stop them.“ His voice was full of determination.

“I will need a while to analyse.“ The Osgoods gave apologetic smiles, indicating they would like to be left in peace to do their work now.

“You best get some rest. We will have a lot of work to do soon.“ Kate smiled at Ryan and Graham who could hardly refuse the request. It had been a very long night already.

——

In orbit around the Library, 52nd Century

Paternoster Gang

“So this Thirteen person, is it possible they’re the one that took the child as well?“ Yaz asked, leaning onto the control desk as they digested the news. “They are a Time Lord, we found Time Lord technology at your house.“

“It would be an extraordinary coincidence if it wasn’t.“ Vastra agreed, she was pacing the room. Even though they had no idea what their motivations were, they had to assume the same person was behind both kidnappings. She knew nothing of the dealings either the Doctor or Professor Song had had with this particular Time Lord but she decided it didn't matter for the time being. What mattered was that they found River and her son. With any luck they were being taken to the same place. They could ask questions later.

“We need to find a way of following them.“ Jenny concluded, watching her wife pace. As much as they had hoped for a conversation with the Professor, for a chance to make their apologies and to promise to make amends, at least they had a trail to follow now.

“Did our sensors pick anything up on our approach? Any other ships in the vicinity? Someone heading away from the Library?“ Vastra asked, looking to Strax who started working the controls with military efficiency.

“We were too far out at the time. Nothing on long range sensors.“ Strax growled seemingly displeased with the efficiency of the scanners. “This wouldn’t have happened on a Sontaran warliner.“ He huffed.

“What about the Library? Do they not have any sensors or CCTV or something?“ Yaz asked as she thought back to her police training. If someone was kidnapped, looking for CCTV footage in the area would be the first step, surely.

“Excellent idea, Ms. Kahn!“ Vastra gave her a kind smile. “Mr. Maldovar, any suggestions as to how we might establish a more permanent link to the Library?“

“It’s a closed system, trying to keep out intruders, probably a defence mechanism…“ Dorium mused, putting his feelers out. What he lacked in physical mobility, he was making up for with technological know how.

“If not a video link, at least some means of data exchange?“ She gave him a kind smile. “I have every confidence in your abilities.“

“She means: see if you can hack the system.“ Jenny chuckled, recalling Dorium’s rather impressive work at Demon’s Run. It seemed as though all their expertise would be called upon at one point or another.

“I don’t suppose CAL would mind once she realises what you’re trying to do.“ Vastra carried on. “Perhaps if you started with a reassuring message for her. Would you maybe be able to get information about ships that approached or departed?“

“I shall certainly try.“ Dorium agreed, his tone gracious, but he hardly had to try at all. “Never mind, she’s ahead of us, she’s sending something across.“ Dorium looked up to the screen. “I believe we can extrapolate the course from this.“ A diagram appeared on screen, green dots outlining a route away from the planet.

“Bringing us around now.“ Strax announced as the computer worked out the course. “We shall hunt them down and shoot them out of the sky!“

“Not with Professor Song on board, we won’t.“ Vastra pointed out and Strax huffed displeased.

“Ready to jump into hyper speed.“ He grumbled in response.

“Hang on, CAL is sending some more data across.“ Dorium announced. “Just wait till… There we are, all done.“ He nodded and nearly fell out of his box doing so.

“What is it?“ Vastra asked as the ship jumped into faster-than-light travel and the stars blurred outside. They left the Library behind.  

“A file with everything the Library had to offer on the Thirteen and their previous incarnations, I’m sure that will make for exciting reading…“ Dorium almost sounded surprised.

“Clever girl!“ Jenny grinned.

“Perhaps we can learn who we are dealing with.“ Yaz felt a little better that they were all in the same boat. She wasn’t behind this time, they all had to start from scratch.

“Best to know your enemy.“ Strax grinned. “Give us the intel, head.“

——

The TARDIS

“Sorry, Doctor but I can’t take credit for that.“ The Master laughed at the look of surprise and disappointment on her face. She had hoped to get answers but there were none to be had.

“And you never will.“ It was a split second decision on the Doctor’s part as she pulled a gun from under the console.

She had always pretended she didn’t know where River had hidden her guns around the TARDIS but of course she did. She wasn’t quite sure why she had never stopped her doing it. Perhaps because she knew eventually, they would come in handy. River had borrowed the TARDIS plenty of times and if she ever got herself in a scrape, she didn’t want to leave her wife defenceless. While the TARDIS had redecorated since River had last been here, she had kept her guns where they belonged.

“Well, well, well Doctor.“ The Master smirked as she pointed the gun at him.

“Get out.“ She said.The weapon felt heavy and uncomfortable in her hand but that didn’t stop her. She couldn’t take the risk of the Master getting off Gallifrey. She had no way of knowing for sure whether he would be responsible for her son’s abduction in the future but she couldn’t take the risk. If it was the case, she would stop it here. She gestured to the door. “Now.“

“You’re not leaving me here.“ The Master laughed, shaking his head, he didn’t seem to be taking her seriously.

“Yes I am. You are not getting off this rock. You will never get the opportunity to hurt my family, ever.“ The Doctor retorted, her voice low and threatening.

“You won’t shoot me.“ The Master shrugged, taking a step closer, daring her to do just that.

“Yes I will.“ The Doctor snapped, taking proper aim.

“No you won’t. You didn’t last time and you won’t now, you’re weak.“ The spat, enjoying seeing her struggle with herself. Her kindness and reluctance to use force had always been her greatest weakness. “You think you can protect them when you can’t even find out who’s behind it all? You’re pathetic. Probably best if you don’t find your child, you’d be such a disappointment to them.“

A shot rang out and the Master staggered back. The Doctor was shocked herself but she tried her best to cover that moment of disbelief. She tightened the grip on the gun just in time for the Master to look up again.  

“Wow…“ He grinned, in a maniacal sort of way and pressed his hand to his arm. She had only grazed his shoulder. She was a terrible shot that lacked the strength of her convictions. Or at least she thought she did. Part of her couldn’t believe she had shot him at all and the other part couldn’t believe she had missed.

“The next one will be lethal.“ She threatened, squaring her jaw. She pointed to the door, hoping he would leave already and not put it to the test. In a way, leaving him on Gallifrey was just as bad as shooting him. Both were a death sentence, one just felt a lot easier than the other. Either way, she had to protect her family and if she was strong now, perhaps things would find a way of resolving themselves.

“No, it won’t.“ The Master laughed and before she could follow through on her threat, he darted forward. The Doctor felt the ground move under her feet but not because he knocked her over. He hadn’t gone for her, he had lunged for the controls.

“What have you done?“ The Doctor shouted and crashed against one of the crystalline arms in the control room. The gun was knocked from her hand and skidded off somewhere. The TARDIS was spinning, somersaulting, they were launching into the vortex.

“What have you done? You tried to kill me!“ The Master shot back and was knocked to the ground as well. The TARDIS was out of control.

“Oh because you’ve always been so restrained?!“ The Doctor snapped over the racket of them catapulting through the vortex, hitting energy fields, chronon clouds and any other kind of obstacle the vortex had to offer.

The Doctor pulled herself along the floor, towards the control panel. She had to stabilise them. Just for the moment, the Master was not her primary concern. She managed to grab hope of the console and pulled herself up, hitting the blue stabiliser button. The TARDIS stopped shaking, steadying itself and the Doctor let go a sigh of relief. She got to her feet properly and turned back to the Master who was clambering to his feet as well.

“That was really stupid and incredibly dangerous, we could have been torn apart.“ The Doctor snapped.

“I couldn’t let you leave me there. Better to be killed than return to that isolation.“ The Master huffed, slightly calmer than before. “Do you know what it was like, Doctor? Just you with your own thoughts? Not a living, breathing thing in sight?“ His tone was surprisingly genuine and there was a bitter edge to it.

“You’re not the only one who’s had a tough few decades.“ She retorted but was in no mood to fill him in on her prison sentence so she changed the subject quickly: “Can’t have been all that lonely, you told someone about the timeless child.“

“For the last time, Doctor, I didn’t tell anyone!“ He groaned in annoyance, tossing his arms in the air. He hissed as the movement sent a jolt of pain through his injured arm. “I killed everyone that could possibly have known.“

“Then it was you that told Dorium!“ The Doctor snapped.

“I already told you, I didn’t! When would I have done that?!“ The Master yelled.

“What then? Someone else just found out about the Timeless Child and happened to have taken an interest in my child?!“ The Doctor was trying to wrap her head around it. She only trusted the Master as far as she could throw them but she was beginning to doubt her previous assessment.

“Why would you think those two things are connected?“ The Master shook his head at her shortsightedness.

“What do you mean? Of course they’re connected!“ The Doctor shot back angrily.

“Because you have the word child in both sentences?“ He laughed, gesturing question marks into the air. “Come on, anyone could have taken your child with no other motive other than to get to you. And there are a lot of people who would love a way to get to you, not just me.“

“What do you mean by that?“ The Doctor frowned, taken aback. This was not something she had considered before.

“You have a lot of enemies, Doctor, have you never noticed? None as brilliant as me, obviously, but they’re out there.“ The Master chuckled, giving her a patronising look.

“Is that a hypothetical or do you actually know something?“ The Doctor pressed on. There had to be more there than he was letting on.

The Master shrugged.

“Because if you don’t and you claim to have nothing to do with it, I might as well take you back to Gallifrey.“ She stepped up to the console, intent on changing the course.

“Don’t.“ The Master grabbed her arm and pulled her away. “You know I have nothing to do with this and I don’t know where your child is.“

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that.“ The Doctor shook him off. “You know something… what did you do?“

“Alright… I may be guilty of a teensy little fibette…“ The Master smirked, clearly enjoying this. “Perhaps someone did hear about the timeless child… so maybe it is connected to the kidnapping of your child after all… though, I wonder how they would have found out about your son…“ He mused but was interrupted when the Doctor grabbed him by the collar of his coat.

“What did you do?“ She growled, fresh anger shooting through her.

“I just wanted to play… create a little chaos…“ The Master grinned.

“What did you do?“ She repeated pulling him closer.

“Every species has their black sheep don’t they… apart from you and me of course…“ He smirked.

“You didn’t…“ The Doctor’s eyes widened as she sensed where he was going with this. So close to him, she could almost see his memory of it in her own mind.

“What do you think would happen if you free all of Gallifrey’s bad boys and girls in one go? I couldn’t create all that destruction just by myself, could I.“ The expression in his eyes was nothing short of madness.

“And you think someone fled the planet before you destroyed everything?“ The Doctor carried on and he shrugged:

“Who knows, I didn’t keep count.“

——

Space, 52nd Century

“It’s not much… bits and pieces of his misadventures… this bit is interesting, it’s a footnote from the Book of the Revenants, you know the Doctor has her own volume.“ Dorium flicked through the data in his mind, keeping quiet for a moment as he focused.

“Yeah she’s mentioned that…“ Yaz couldn’t help but smile at the fond memory. What a carefree adventure that had been in comparison to what was happening now. She wondered how the Doctor was doing. She had no idea River had been taken as well… Perhaps they should try to contact her…

“As if their head wasn’t big enough…“ Vastra sighed. “What does it say?“

“It’s a brief description of their personalities, stops at twelve, sadly.“ Dorium revealed and he started to recite: “Originally a member of the High Council on Gallifrey, the One fell from grace and became one of Gallifrey’s most notorious criminals. Suffering from regenerative dissonance, the personalities of their regenerations remain within their consciousness. Following incarnations are known and distinguishable. The One: the archivist, often pedantic and knowledgeable on many Gallifreyan secrets.“

“So he could have known about the Timeless Child?“ Jenny jumped in, listening closely and her wife nodded in agreement. They had yet to find out what exactly that phrase was meant to mean. The Doctor hadn’t filled them in but somehow, that secret from Time Lord lore seemed to be at the centre of everything.

“Indeed…“ Vastra mumbled. “What else does it say?“

“Brief descriptions of the others, make them more distinguishable I suppose…“ Dorium continued: “The Two: The charmer, a charismatic liar and manipulator; and the Three: The Juvenile, childish and self-centred, prone to tantrums and violence.“

“Not unlike the Master then, makes sense you would confuse them.“ Yaz wondered if the Doctor just attracted a certain kind of mad man to face off against. Despite the seriousness of the situation, it was an amusing thought.

“The Four: The intellectual, a sophisticated and arrogant game-player. The Five: The joker, a funny, wise-cracking and confident trickster. The Six: The psychopath, extremely violent and unstable.“ Dorium carried on as the others listened intently.

“A man after my own heart.“ Strax grinned.

“The Seven: The scientist, clever and calculated with vast scientific knowledge.“ Dorium chose to ignore Strax’s comment and skipped to the next one.

“It sounds like he would have quite the arsenal of abilities at his disposal.“ Vastra mused, trying her best to commit the different personalities to her memory. There was no way of knowing if and when it would become useful. If their hunt was successful, they would soon find themselves face to face with this mysterious Time Lord.

“The Eight: The good man, who unlike his other selves strove to do good.“ Dorium raised his eyebrows, surprised. He checked the data entry twice, just to be sure.  

“Interesting…“ Vastra pursed her lips and Jenny added:

“People don’t have to be just good or just bad, there are two sides to everyone…“

“I’m beginning to see that…“ Yaz admitted, thinking back to the Doctor and the way she had been acting in Dorium’s bar. Her anger and fear had brought out the worst sides of her. She could only hope she was doing okay where she was now.

“The Nine: The kleptomaniac, driven by greed and prone to theft.“ Dorium continued reciting: “The Ten: The hypnotist, confident and able psychic.“

“Another useful ability…“ Vastra commented.

“The Eleven: The schemer, clever, patient and determined.“

“None of them particularly sound like a breeze to deal with…“ Jenny sighed.

“The Twelve: The matriarch, first female and last known regeneration. They are presumed dead.“ Dorium concluded at last.

“Imagine what that’s like, having all those personalities inside you.“ Yaz shook her head to herself. Anyone might go mad under those circumstances.

“I shall be glad to put them out of their misery.“ Strax announced, checking through his blaster rifle.

——

Unknown

“Wakey-wakey…“

River’s head was spinning. She was disoriented. The flood of sensation that came over her was painful in its intensity. She had a splitting headache. Her chest burned with every breath and she coughed. Light was blinding her, her eyes were refusing to adjust just yet. Her muscles were stiff and her joints ached, as if she was awakening from a long sleep.

That was when she realised she had corporal shape. She had a body. She tried to move but found her muscles wouldn’t cooperate, not just yet anyway. She was still getting used to breathing again.

“What…“ She tried to speak but she couldn’t produce sound yet. She felt utterly helpless but she was alive.  

“There we are, slowly coming to.“ The voice seemed very distant and her ears were only just getting used to processing sound again.

“A Time Lord’s body is a miracle. Even one that has spent all their regenerations.“ There was another voice but she couldn’t place it either. Her mind was still trying to catch up to where she was, how she had got here, what had happened last. The Library… had it all been a bad dream?

“She’s not a Time Lord.“ The first voice grew sharper and was beginning to sound more familiar as her senses began to normalise.

“Close enough.“ The second sounded female.

“What’s taking so long?“ There was the first voice again but changed. “Patience, Three.“ River knew that she knew this person but her brain wasn’t at full capacity yet. She blinked against the light. If only she could make something out. She was slowly adjusting. “You did a good job keeping her body intact.“

“The machine will restore her, it might take a while but she will be herself soon enough.“ River knew she had heard the female voice before, too.

“I hope so, I do like them with a bit of bite.“ The Thirteen. The memories were coming back to River now. She had been in the Library and someone had hacked into the system. He must have taken her, brought her elsewhere, returned her to a body. How had he done it?

“No.“ River whispered, her voice horse as her vocal chords hadn’t been used in a long time. It was like she had to learn how to use her body all over again. That was when she realised how she knew the second voice, a voice that still haunted her nightmares.

“Hello Melody.“ Madame Kovarian smirked, leaning over and into her field of vision.

“What are you…“ River tried to reach and push her away, she managed to raise her hands but collided with a glass case. She pressed her hands against it, she was in a glass tube of some kind. Or was it a coffin? She looked at her hands, pressed against the glass, finding her skin red and raw from the electrocution she had suffered while connecting herself to the Library core. She should have been dead. She had been dead. They had brought her body back to life and it was painful.

“Easy now, Melody, dear. A few days and your body will be good as new.“ Kovarian smirked. “Lucky really we got there in time but you were right, Time Lords take forever to properly die…“

“What are you planning on doing with me?“ River managed to turn her head and spotted the Thirteen standing behind Kovarian, watching with a content smirk on his face.

“All in good time, Professor, get your strength back now. It’s no fun beating you when you’re already down.“

#doctor who #river song #fanfiction #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #ryan sinclair #graham o'brien #Jack harkness #osgood #kate lethbridge stewart #Yasmin Khan #madame vastra #Jenny Flint #strax #the eleven #the master #Dorium maldovar #action/adventure #dw #torchwood #world enough and time #madame kovarian

[averykedavra]

Too Far Gone

(Hey y’all! I’m back with some Logan angst, because that’s all I’m capable of writing. You can find this story on Ao3 here!)

Summary: Logan Mackenzie doesn't quite understand feelings, but he does care about his friends. That's why he ended up playing matchmaker for his three oblivious best friends.

Getting Roman and Virgil together is hard. Getting Patton to admit his feelings is harder. The hardest part, however, is when he realizes he care a little more than a friend would.

But they're happy together. Roman-Virgil-Patton. 1+1+1=Relationship.

What Logan wants isn't part of the equation.

Ships: eventual romantic LAMP

Warnings: self-deprecation, self-confidence issues, self-isolation, sacrificing happiness for the sake of others, a TON of pining you guys, some denial to spice it up, deceit is only mentioned, self-hatred issues, yeah Logan has some feelings, swearing, insecurity about being polyamorous but it’s very brief, crying, arguing, lots of crying. (that makes it sound really angsty but there’s a ton of fluff too I swear)

Word count: 16,845 (it’s still a oneshot if I post it all at once, shut up)

Logan Mackenzie knew a lot of things. He knew the name of every Agatha Christie novel in alphabetical order. He knew the capitol of every country and a few that weren’t countries anymore. He knew how to calculate the sine of an angle, identify the signs of dehydration, and communicate—albeit rather haltingly—in American Sign Language. He’d maintained good grades through high school, college, and now, graduate school. He wanted to be an astronomy teacher one day, but if that didn’t pan out, a doctor, researcher, or physicist were not out of the question.

As Virgil once put it, the size of Logan’s area of expertise was only eclipsed by the size of Roman’s ego. This led to Roman attacking Virgil with a spatula and declaring that their friendship was over, Virgil was a coward and a fool, and he could not reasonably stand for this heresy. Patton suggested that if Roman couldn’t stand for it, he should just sit down. And that pretty much summed up Logan’s three best friends.

But despite Logan’s knowledge of all things philosophical, scientific, linguistic, and everything in between, he did have one rather large Achilles heel.

He did not understand emotions.

He had them, of course. He could hardly avoid them, being a homo sapiens of ordinary mental health with supremely emotional beings as his friends. Roman was always bursting with drama, exuberance, and Disney songs. Patton was sunshine incarnate with a perpetual smile and endless dad jokes. Virgil was more laid-back and sarcastic, but his issues with anxiety and his not-so-secret softer side still placed him firmly in the Has Feelings category.

Logan had feelings too. Joy when opening a fresh jar of jam, pride after receiving a good grade, frustration when Roman said something particularly dense. He just didn’t seem to…comprehend them as the others did. He often didn’t even realize what he was feeling, only noting the physical symptoms of the emotion.

For a while, he’d asked Patton what he was feeling and Patton had done his best to deduce the answer from the symptoms provided. That was a figurative hit-or-miss endeavor, however, and Logan found his stomach clenching at the sympathetic look on Patton’s face. He knew Patton meant well, but the experience of being pitied—was he being pitied, or was that a cognitive distortion, like the ones he always talked Virgil out of—the experience of feeling pitied was an unpleasant one. These days, he usually researched the symptoms on his own. It was even less accurate, but avoided the cloying feeling of vulnerability.

Logan tried not to be bitter about the situation. He understood so many things, it only made sense for life to give him a figurative handicap. And emotions were hardly the most important thing to understand anyway. He’d much rather know CPR than whether he was angry or merely annoyed. Those sorts of subtleties could be handled by his friends.

They didn’t seem to mind Logan’s…inexperience. They liked him just fine. More than ‘fine,’ in fact. Virgil and him had been friends since high school, back when Logan was even more unmanageable and walled-off. And Patton and Roman both helped him through the stress of college without judgment. The four of them worked, illogical as it was. Their different personalities didn’t clash, they just complemented each other like different shades to a painting. Logan couldn’t imagine having another friend group, and he didn’t want to imagine the circumstances in which he would be forced to find one.

For now, things were all right. Patton cheered them up, Roman pushed them forward, Virgil kept them safe, and Logan educated them. When Patton was sad or Roman was insecure or Virgil was panicking, they’d watch movies or practice breathing or simply talk until the problem was solved. Logan could handle the rational, intellectual part of the issue and Patton or Roman would cover the emotional side of things. Even Virgil, cynical as he was, had a sense for understanding insecurity and fear. Their system worked. If a problem was too emotional for Logan to handle, he could always call Patton or Roman or Virgil. It was simple.

Then came a problem he couldn’t get backup for.

Virgil had a crush.

No, that understated the issue. A simple crush would have been bearable. Virgil had a deep, desperate, all-consuming crush on Roman. It was the sort of crush that made him blush when they were in the same room. The sort of crush that sent him into hyperventilation when Roman said hello. The sort of crush that made him rant endlessly about Roman’s “stupid perfect face and stupid beautiful voice and stupid nice lovely wonderful smile—” until he resorted to simply screaming obscenities into his pillow.

And who did he rant to? None other than Logan Mackenzie, the singular most unqualified person in perhaps the entire Milky Way.

Logan understood Virgil’s predicament. He couldn’t talk about it to the object of his affections, of course. Patton was also out of the picture—him and Roman were thick as figurative thieves, and Patton would never keep a secret from anyone. He’d try, maybe, but he was a terrible liar and Roman would surely catch on.

Logan was the only possible option. They were roommates, they were friends, and Logan could keep a secret. And Logan, good friend as he was, did want to support Virgil through this emotional time.

However, he couldn’t say it didn’t get…tedious.

Especially as the crush showed no signs of fading, and Virgil still refused to tell Roman about it.

“Virgil,” Logan said, poking at the mop of purple hair he knew possessed his best friend. Virgil merely mumbled something that sounded like “stupid wonderful personality” and ignored him.

“Virgil,” Logan repeated, louder. “I’d like you to explain—"

“Why I don’t tell him. I know.” Virgil batted Logan’s hand away, poking his face above the covers. A residual blush still lingered on his face. “You’ve said that a million times.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed tautly. “Because it is the only possible conclusion to this fiasco and I don’t see why you can’t just get it over with.”

“Not the only possible conclusion,” Virgil grumbled. “It’ll probably go away soon.”

“Virgil, remind me how long you have had this crush?”

Virgil glared at him and didn’t respond.

“Fine, I’ll tell you the answer myself.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Eighty-three days and five hours.”

“You remember that?”

“Hard to forget,” Logan snapped, “when you have spent the majority of those eighty-three days complaining about Roman’s perfect eyebrows.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “But…have you seen his eyebrows, L?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. Because I see him every day, Virgil. He is my best friend.”

“Then you should appreciate my struggle.” Virgil rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. “I’m completely doomed.”

“Just tell him!” Logan burst out. “This crush will not end of its own accord. You need to confess your feelings, if only to lay your mind at rest. Roman is not currently in a relationship with anyone. He is pansexual and panromantic and could very easily reciprocate your feelings. Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t just tell him how you feel.”

Virgil groaned. “Is ‘everything’ a reason?”

“No.”

“Is ‘I just can’t’ a reason?”

“Also no.”

“Is ‘I’d rather die’ a reason?”

Logan raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Sometimes I don’t comprehend humanity.”

“Look, L, I…” Virgil struggled out from under his covers, pulling at a sleeve and avoiding his gaze. “What if he doesn’t like me? That way?”

“Then you will at least have some clarification instead of being stuck in a figurative limbo state.”

“What if it ruins our friendship? What if he thinks I’m weird or creepy or—”

“Virgil.” Logan carefully placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Roman is a good friend who values you deeply. I sincerely doubt this would ruin your friendship. Things may be different for a time, but you will not lose him over this. I promise.”

Virgil looked a little consoled. Still, he squeezed the blanket with both hands. “What if—what if he—”

Virgil fell silent. Logan tilted his head. “Yes?”

“Never mind, it’s…it’s stupid.”

“If it is bothering you, it’s not stupid.”

Virgil seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a second. Finally, he burst out: “What if he feels forced?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Logan said. “Could you elaborate?”

“What if he feels like…just ‘cause I like him…he needs to…” Virgil pulled at his sleeve, biting his lip. “I dunno…pretend? Date me to be nice? Out of pity? I don’t want…I don’t want him to feel…like he has to sacrifice his happiness so I can feel better.”

Something ached in Logan’s chest. It was a hard, sharp ache, with heat but no anger. Compassion, that’s what it was. Platonic love for his insecure, anxious, wonderful best friend.

“Virgil, look at me,” Logan instructed. Virgil slowly looked up, his brown eyes dark with worry. Logan reached out and brushed his purple bangs out of his eyes.

“Roman is not a cruel person.” Logan kept his voice soft, comforting. “He cares deeply about you, as I have said before. He would not string you on a figurative wild goose chase no matter his feelings for you. He is not a liar and he would not do such a thing out of pity for you. Roman does not, and never will, pity you.” Logan laughed quietly. “And sacrificing his own happiness for others sounds more like something you would do, Virgil.”

Virgil huffed with irritation. But his prickly expression soon faded. “Thanks, L.”

“It is my pleasure.”

Virgil nodded to himself. Then his face lit up, but just as soon as the excitement crossed his features, it flickered away again.

“What is it?” Logan asked, leaning forward on his chair.

Virgil bit his lip again. “Well…um, I had an idea…but it’s probably stupid and you don’t have to—um. Well. Maybe you could…see if Roman likes me? Ask him?”

Logan blinked. “Are you asking me to…clandestinely investigate whether Roman has romantic feelings for you as if we were back in high school?”

Virgil shrugged sheepishly. “…Maybe?”

“Unbelievable.” Logan sat back and crossed his arms. “Virgil, I would do many things for you. But I am not going to play matchmaker.”

“C’mon,” Virgil said. “I’ll let you have first pick at movie night and do your share of the dishes for a week and give you back your Alice in Wonderland puzzle book.”

“Tempting,” Logan admitted. “And if I do such a…juvenile venture, and find out that Roman holds romantic feelings for you, will you tell Roman of your crush?”

Virgil rubbed his face. “Do I have to?”

Logan gave him a level stare.

“Fine!” Virgil threw his hands in the air. “Fine. You win. If Roman likes me…maybe I’ll tell him. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Logan echoed.

“It’s the best you’re getting, Pocket Protector.” Virgil grinned. “Take it or leave it.”

Logan mulled over the question, but truly, it wasn’t much of a debate. He wanted Virgil to step up and take action. He wanted the pair of them to get together, if only to end Virgil’s ceaseless complaining. And…truly, he was a little curious who Roman did like. He often proclaimed that he wanted to sweep someone off their feet or slay a dragon for them or simply be in a romance, but Logan never heard a specific name attached to those fantasies. In fact, he couldn’t remember Roman ever talking about his crushes—strange indeed, when Logan had always thought of him as a romantic.

“Deal,” Logan said.

“Thanks, L. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I don’t think your life would be in jeopardy, unless you can die from pining—”

Virgil chucked a pillow at Logan’s head. “Shut up and get matchmaking, Cupid.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Virgil grinned like a cat who’d eaten a canary. And Logan wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.

                                                                                                                                It took a little work to find time with Roman alone. Patton stuck to him like a barnacle—they were roommates and both were extremely clingy. In fact, they often acted like they were dating, but Logan supposed they were just very touchy friends.

Perhaps they were dating in secret. Or Logan just didn’t know about it because they’d chosen not to tell him because he didn’t understand relationships and—okay, he was starting to sound like Virgil. They were not secretly dating. Patton couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and neither of them had any motivation to hide such a thing from Logan or Virgil. Roman was single and therefore, could possibly like Virgil back.

Logan just wanted Virgil happy and not pining sadly in his bedroom. Was that too much to ask for?

Finally, he managed to get Roman alone. It was during their traditional movie night, between Mulan and Pocahontas. Patton had realized they were out of popcorn and Logan convince Virgil to go with him to get some more. Virgil gave Logan a suspicious look, but after Logan motioned to Roman and quickly signed ‘I’ll ask him,’ Virgil let himself be dragged to the store with Patton. He didn’t seem entirely upset with the situation—though Virgil would deny it, he loved Patton. Though Patton never denied it, he loved Virgil back.

“Well, it’s just you and me, Specs.” Roman ducked behind the counter and came up with two mugs. He handed Logan the one that said ‘Best Mother Ever’ and kept the ‘I Drink Coffee to Hide the Pain’ mug for himself. Rooting around in the cupboard, Roman pulled out some hot chocolate mix.

“I’m not the best with this stuff—Patton’s a miracle worker, I swear—but I think it’ll do.”

“Hot chocolate in March?” Logan asked. “It’s fifty degrees outside.”

“Silence,” Roman ordered. “I’m bored and I wanna have sweet stuff. Don’t rain on my parade.”

Logan smiled as Roman began to make them the hot chocolate. Soon they both had a steaming mug of sweet melted chocolate. Logan stirred his and watched the steam curl in the air. Roman watched him out of the corner of his eye, a tentative smile on his face.

“What?” Logan asked.

Roman shrugged. “…Are you gonna drink it?”

Logan blew on the cup and took a sip. The sweetness warmed his throat, and he could feel it traveling to his stomach, making every extremity of his body warmer. Roman had stuck a sprig of peppermint

“It is…satisfactory,” Logan said, taking another sip.

Roman grinned. “Glad you approve, Microsoft Nerd.”

Logan sighed. “Why must you always insult me?”

“Hey, this is how I show my love!”

Jumping on this auspicious phrasing, Logan decided to put his plan into motion. Carefully maintaining his nonchalant tone, he said, “Is it now.”

“Yes!” Roman put his hands on his hips. “You may be insufferable and annoying and completely idiotic sometimes, but I care about you!”

A smile played around Logan’s lips. “Is that how you treat your princes and princesses? Insult them as you rescue them from the tower? I can’t imagine they’d like that very much.”

“Rude.” Roman shoved Logan, almost knocking over his ‘Best Mother Ever’ mug—why did they even have that mug? None of them were female—and giving him a roguish grin. “My romantic endeavors go just fine, thank you.”

“Oh really?” Logan tried to bridge the line between teasing banter and honest curiosity. Come on too strong, and Roman could get suspicious. “I wouldn’t know, you never talk about them.”

Roman shrugged. “I have to have some secrets, don’t I?”

Logan snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re dating someone in secret? A Romeo and Juliet situation, perhaps? I’m sorry to say that Patton might be a bit upset if you were banished for manslaughter.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Roman said, laughing. Quietly, he added, “Not for lack of trying.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. Roman fidgeted uncomfortably before taking a large sip of hot chocolate and avoiding Logan’s gaze. Unfortunately, that hot chocolate seemed to be too hot. Roman swore, jumping back and batting at his tongue. Logan poured him some water, which he downed. Roman soon recovered enough to begin moaning about his injury and threatening to “get my revenge on this accursed cocoa by any means necessary.” Before Roman could bring out his sword and challenge the mug to an Agni Kai, Logan decided to ask his big question.

“…Roman, do you…I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…”

Curses, why was this so hard? Roman’s face wrinkled in confusion and concern, eyebrows high.

“…Do you have feelings for anyone?”

Roman laughed lightly. “I have a lot of feelings, Specs. Be more specific.”

“Do you have…romantic feelings?” Logan clutched his cup. “I’m curious. You never speak about relationships in the specific…and you mention trying to date someone. It’s okay if you don’t want to disclose this information, but I would like to understand better.”

Roman sighed, staring into his cocoa. “It’s complicated, Specs.”

“Try me.”

“I…” Roman rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I don’t know. Yes, probably? There’s…someone I have in mind…but…oh, I don’t know. Why do things have to be so confusing? Where’s the line between they’re-just-a-friend and I-may-wanna-date-them? In stories it’s always so clear-cut, and they always fall for just—I mean, it’s always obvious that they like someone. It’s…it’s never been that way for me.”

Logan watched Roman with sympathy. “I can understand that. The line between platonic and romantic attraction is often blurry.”

“I know.” Roman was hunched over, tracing circles on the rim of his mug. “And I sincerely doubt anyone thinks of me that way, so it’s a moo point.”

“…a moot point.”

“That’s what I said.”

Logan chose not to comment. Instead, he said simply, “That’s not true.”

Roman’s head jerked up. “What?”

“That’s not true,” Logan repeated. Maybe he was breaking Virgil’s trust, just a little bit, but he could be vague. And how was he supposed to find out if Roman liked Virgil without bringing Virgil up?

“You mean…someone likes me?” Roman looked disbelieving, far too disbelieving, and Logan reminded himself to have another talk with Patton about Roman’s self-esteem.

Logan nodded. “Yes.”

“Who?”

“I can’t say,” Logan said, raising his mug. “They wouldn’t want me to tell their secret.”

“That’s fair,” Roman said.

Logan took a sip of hot chocolate.

“…it isn’t you, is it?”

And Logan almost spit out said sip of chocolate.

Roman thought—wait, he thought—

This was not good.

Instead of being rational, instead of thinking this through, Logan’s heartbeat skyrocketed and he panicked.

“What?” Logan yelped. “No! No, no, hell no. I would never want to date you.”

Roman looked like he’d been slapped. Hurt blossomed over his face. “Wow, thanks,” he said, the sarcasm sharp with wounded pride. “Glad you think so much of me.”

“No!” Logan set down his coffee and ran his hands through his hair. “That…didn’t…I didn’t mean it like that. I have nothing against you. You’re just…” Excuse, excuse, something, something! “…not my type?”

“Not your type?” Roman looked slightly mollified, and, oh no, now he was smiling in that teasing way of his. “What is your type, then?”

Logan sipped his cocoa and tried to maintain a figurative straight face. “Someone who doesn’t light their hand sanitizer on fire by accident.”

Offended noises followed that statement. “That was one time!” Roman protested. “And it was Remus’ fault!”

“Of course it was.” Logan rolled his eyes. “You two are natural disasters and threats to the peace of this nation.”

“Thank you!”

Logan sighed into his hot chocolate. Silence fell, slightly uncomfortable but not grating.

Finally, Roman asked, “Who is it?”

“I told you,” Logan said, finishing his cocoa and setting down the mug. “I can’t say.”

Roman pouted. “Meanie.”

“You were the one who said it was fair!”

“Well, now I’m curious!” Roman complained. “Can’t you give me a hint?”

Logan looked into Roman’s eyes. “Who do you want it to be?”

A blush rose to Roman’s cheeks. He hurriedly looked away. “I dunno…I mean…”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Logan walked over to the sink and began washing out his mug. “And I do not judge.”

Roman sighed dramatically behind him. “Must you force me into this confession, oh heartless one?”

“I’m not forcing you into anything.”

Another dramatic sigh. “Fine. I—I like—”

And then there was an indistinguishable mumble. Logan turned off the water and looked behind him. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I like Patton,” Roman whispered.

Oh.

“…and Virgil.”

Oh.

Logan tried not to let his excitement show. “I…didn’t realize you were polyamorous.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Roman shrugged. His voice was strangely brittle. “Until…now, I guess.”

“Well.” Logan walked over and leaned on the counter next to Roman. “…Thank you. For telling me.”

Roman gave a small, insincere smile that quickly vanished. “You don’t think it’s…weird?”

“Of course not.” Logan channeled all his certainty into his words. “Many people are polyamorous. It’s not ‘weird’ any more than it is ‘weird’ for some people to be bisexual, or aromantic, or demisexual. It’s a way of experiencing sexual or romantic attraction that is no less valid than any other.”

“Huh.” That small smile returned, more sincere this time. “Thanks, Specs.”

“It’s no issue.”

“Thanks.” Roman fidgeted slightly. “It’s not fun, you know.”

“What isn’t?” Logan asked.

“I dunno.” Roman waved a hand in his usual flamboyant gesturing, but something about it was ragged. “Liking two people gives double the heartbreak. I’d settle for one of them—I’d love to be with one of them, but it’ll never happen.” Recovering himself, he pressed a hand to his forehead and wilted. “Woe is me, I shall never be loved by my loves.”

Logan chuckled. “How do you know?”

“Well, I did,” Roman clarified. “Now you’ve cruelly given me hope.”

“Cruel indeed.” Logan traced his fingers over the counter. “Imagine, one of the two people you’re closest to might have romantic feelings for you as well. How improbable. It’s not like platonic relationships often lead to romantic ones.”

Roman laughed. “I think you’ve been hanging out with Dee too much.”

“Roman,” Logan said. “It is not out of the picture for at least one of your objects of affection to reciprocate your feelings.” He avoided Roman’s eyes. “I, for one, think you are…a good person. Kind, smart, funny…I can see how someone might fall for you.”

Okay, this was getting into territory he didn’t like. Time to backtrack. “In fact, as you and I know, someone does hold those feelings for you.”

“Is it…one of them?” Roman asked. The hesitant hope in his face was almost heartbreaking.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Logan said. “Even if it was one of them, I wouldn’t know the feelings of the other.”

“Hmm.” Roman furrowed his brow. Then his face lit up. “Hey, Professor Plum?”

“Don’t call me that, the character in the movie Clue is a scoundrel and a disgrace to academia—”

“Miss White,” Roman corrected.

“Hardly better.”

“Wadsworth,” Roman settled on. “Could you—since you know about this—could you find out if either of them—”

Foreboding filled Logan. “Please don’t say you want me to—”

“—play Matchmaker?” Roman smiled sheepishly. “Maybe?”

“Oh, Newton.” Logan rubbed his eyes. “Roman, please say you’re joking.”

“I’m not!” Roman seemed pleased with the idea, the exact opposite of Logan’s feelings on the matter. “You could just ask Virgil and Patton if they like anyone, and see if either of them like me.”

“Roman.” Logan sighed loudly. “There are several fallacies with this plan. For one, I may already have information on them. For another, I would be betraying their trust by telling you. You could not gain any information from this venture and I am not going to be complicit in it—”

“…Please?” Roman asked. “You can just find out if they like anyone else, and then you can tell me if they don’t, if I have a shot, and—”

Something fiery and hot was growing in Logan’s chest. Annoyance or anger? Probably the former, since Roman didn’t mean to do this. Still...it burned.

“—and most likely I won’t, but there are two chances, right? And—”

“Roman.”

“—I’m just really curious now, I’m tired of pining—”

“Roman!”

“—this is turning into a romantic comedy, it’s painful—”

“Roman, Virgil likes you!”

Roman immediately froze. His eyes widened, then widened even further, until there seemed to be more whites than irises.

Something heavy and cloying twisted in Logan’s stomach. Shame? Guilt? Fear? Something, definitely. He’d betrayed Virgil’s trust.

But on the surface was still annoyance, and Logan let it out.

“He sent me to find out your crush and get me to play Matchmaker! Now you’re asking me to do the same thing, and I am most certainly not creeping behind both of your backs and being a double agent for your silly romantic antics! Please just communicate with each other like adults before I go insane!”

Roman’s mouth was hanging open. He closed it, swallowed, and opened it again.

“…Wait,” Roman said. “…Virgil likes me?”

“Yes.” Logan felt his anger fade.

“…Are you sure?”

“He’s been ranting about your beautiful eyelashes for months, so I’d say I’m pretty sure.”

Roman looked like Logan had smacked him in the face, let loose a flash grenade between his eyes, and began singing All Star in an Elvis costume. “Really?”

Logan wanted to chuck Roman at the wall. “Yes, really. I do not propagate falsehoods, Roman.”

“Wow.” Roman still appeared shell-shocked. “I didn’t expect…I mean…wow.”

“Wow indeed,” Logan said, pushing himself off the counter and heading to the couch. “Do what you will with this information, Roman. My part here is done.”

“Logan…” Roman followed, tossing himself on the couch and grabbing a blanket. “Thanks.”

“It was no problem. In fact, it was my pleasure.” Logan placed himself on the other side of the couch, reaching for the bowl of chips. “I am glad this ordeal is over with.”

“Well, it isn’t yet, Teach.” Roman smiled. “I still need to ask him out. I’m thinking the first day of spring, a garden—”

“Do it now.”

“What?”

“Do it now,” Logan said. “As soon as Virgil comes back. Before you can A) talk yourself out of it or B) design some ridiculously complicated endeavor that would most likely leave Virgil overwhelmed.”

Roman scoffed. “When have I ever done something like that?”

Logan pointedly glared at him.

Roman sunk into the couch cushions, crossing his arms petulantly. “Fine.”

“Good.”

Roman grabbed the TV remote and turned the TV back on. The loading screen for Pocahontas showed. He pressed play.

“They’ll miss it,” Logan complained.

“We’ll start it over.” Roman’s face was determined in the light of the screen, which accentuated the flop of his brown hair and the firm jaw that swept under his crooked smile. Logan narrowed his eyes, trying to see whether Roman’s eyebrows were anything special. They appeared normal, brown and defined, but maybe from another angle—

“What are you doing?” Roman asked, turning and meeting Logan’s eyes.

“Nothing,” Logan said. “Let’s watch.”

They made it fifteen minutes into the movie before Patton and Virgil returned. Patton had gotten sidetracked with petting a cute dog and the store had a long line. Virgil dumped the popcorn in a bowl and Patton gave Logan and Roman hugs despite seeing them only half an hour before.

“You started already?” Virgil complained.

“Rest easy, Maleficent. We’ll start over.” Roman’s face darkened with a slight blush. “But um…actually…could we talk for a sec? Alone?”

Panic flitted over Virgil’s face. He glanced at Logan, who gave him an encouraging smile.

“O-okay,” Virgil agreed, fidgeting with his hoodie. “Sure.”

“Cool.” Roman led Virgil down the hallway to Patton’s bedroom. “Pat, is it okay if we go in here? My room’s a mess.”

“Sure thing, kiddo!” Patton called. Roman smiled and they walked through the doorway, Roman shutting the door behind them.

“What’re they up to?” Patton asked, settling on the couch next to Logan.

“Can’t tell you that,” Logan said. “I’ve spilled enough secrets today.”

Patton looked at him curiously but apparently decided not to comment.

And they sat in silence, Patton munching on the popcorn, Logan watching the clock and praying whatever was going on, it was good.

After five minutes, Virgil and Roman emerged. Roman was beaming, and Virgil had a small, shy smile on his face. Logan noticed their hands were brushing each other—not intertwined, not yet, but comfortably side-by-side.

Virgil sat next to Logan and Roman sat next to Patton. Patton’s questions about their conversation were brushed off, and Patton soon conceded the issue and turned on the movie again. As Pocahontas sang, Virgil leaned over to Logan and punched him in the arm. Logan hissed in pain. “What was that for?” he whispered.

“Telling him.” Virgil was smirking, however, and Logan knew he was forgiven.

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Virgil looked over at Roman, whose smile still hadn’t faded. Roman saw Virgil and smiled even wider, getting a smile in return.

“Yeah, I think it did.”

                                                                                                                               Something was wrong with Patton.

It was about three months since Roman and Virgil had begun officially dating. The amount of pining-based rants had sharply dipped. Unfortunately, they were replaced by what-do-I-wear-to-a-coffee-date rants and holy-shit-we-kissed-Logan-we-kissed-help rants and what-if-he-secretly-hates-me-should-I-break-up-with-him-before-he-does rants. What’s more, he also began receiving more calls and texts from Roman along the lines of “What’s Virgil’s favorite food” and “Does he like park dates” and “He hasn’t texted me back yet does he hate me is he going to break up with me,” so Logan resigned himself to his fate. Dating they might be, adorable and sweet and supportive they might be, but Logan would still have to deal with their gay panic.

However, his somewhat inept support of them had apparently deemed him “Emotionally Competent.” It was a false label and a new label, replacing his old one of “We Ask Him About Stars, Not Feelings.” Logan didn’t feel he deserved this new designation, but like it or not, he was now someone who could Help With Feelings.

That’s why he was the one talking to Patton.

Well, that wasn’t the whole story. It was also because Patton’s strange behavior was mostly limited to Roman and Virgil. He was kind and sweet and cheerful, but his smile always seemed strained when in their company. More often than not, he excused himself from group activities early, only talked to Logan, or even—according to a concerned Virgil—being strangely distant one-on-one. Sometimes Logan spotted Patton staring at Roman and Virgil, an inexplicably sad look on his face, but when confronted he immediately smiled and said it was nothing. Roman and Virgil, worried they had done something wrong, enlisted Logan to discover the source of the problem.

And the newly Emotionally Competent Logan couldn’t say no.

It was Patton, after all. Sweet, lovely, amazing Patton. If something was truly wrong, he would not hesitate to attempt assistance. He cared deeply for Patton. And although his recent behavior didn’t extend to Logan—in fact, by process of elimination, Logan actually ended up being with Patton more than on average—he still wanted the old Patton back.

So, after an afternoon in Patton and Roman’s apartment that consisted of a violently competitive game of Monopoly—Roman tried to place a hotel on a railroad, Patton traded properties with everyone to help them win, and after Logan collected the Free Parking money totaling 564 dollars, Virgil chucked a shoe at his head—Logan decided to stay behind, help Patton clean up the mess, and ask him a few questions.

Patton seemed to be his normal self. He gladly assisted Logan with the cleanup, cracking jokes and telling the story of a very nice cat he’d met at the animal shelter he volunteered for.

“You’re allergic to cats,” Logan pointed out for the twenty-seventh time.

“I know,” Patton said with a pout. “But she was so cute! And her little fluffy ears…she was purr-fect!”

“I do hope you took your medicine.”

“Of course I did, kiddo!”

Logan smiled. “Roman reminded you, didn’t he?”

Patton giggled and booped Logan’s nose. Had they been with company, Logan wouldn’t have allowed such a thing. But Patton was exhilarating, energetic, so full of life, so contagious—and no one could see anyway. He didn’t mind. In fact, he leaned forward and booped Patton back. Patton’s delighted squeal was worth it.

Tossing a few more pieces into the box, Logan debated how he would tackle the issue. He didn’t want to alarm or upset Patton, or force him to tell anything he didn’t want to. What’s more, Patton would probably deny the problem like he often did, pretending everything was fine. Getting around Patton’s emotional wall would be a challenge.

It was a good thing Logan liked challenges.

But he’d been silent for too long. Patton’s face furrowed in a frown, and he leaned forward, tapping Logan on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Logan said.

“You just…kinda spaced out there for a sec.” Patton tilted his head. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Logan closed the box. “Yes. I think so.”

“Well, then.” Patton sat on the carpet and patted the spot next to him. “I’m all ears!”

Logan hesitantly sat next to Patton. “You’re not all ears, you consist of many different organs—”

Patton giggled. “So I ‘ear.”

“Alright then.” Logan decided to let the pun slide. “Patton…I…”

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Patton’s voice was soft. “You can talk to me.”

Then Logan realized. He couldn’t think of this like a puzzle or a mystery like with Roman. Patton responded to emotion. If he wanted results, he needed to have an honest, emotional conversation.

Shit.

Well, here went nothing.

“Patton, I’m worried about you.”

Patton blinked. A startled laugh escaped his mouth. “Wha—me?”

“Yes.” Logan maintained eye contact—Patton’s eyes were blue, contrasting with his curly blond hair. They reminded Logan of freshwater pools, teeming with life, or the shade of the Earth when seen from space. “You’ve been behaving strangely, and I’m worried. Is everything alright?”

“Well, shucks!” Patton smiled. “I appreciate the concern, kiddo, but I’m doing fine-and-dandy over here. Why are you worried?”

“Because you’ve been distant.” Logan’s eyes were beginning to sting from the prolonged eye contact, but he kept looking at Patton. “You’re avoiding Roman and Virgil. You’re talking to me instead of them. They’ve noticed too, and they’re worried they did something to hurt you. Something that made you…wary. Closed-off.”

Patton’s smile faded for a second. “Ro and Virge? They think I…I’m mad at them?”

“They want to make sure you’re okay.” Logan finally dropped his gaze. “So do I.”

Patton made a little sad noise in his throat. “I…I’m not mad at them! I never meant them to think—they didn’t do anything! They’re wonderful!”

“I’m glad, and I suspected that,” Logan said. “So could you tell me, if they haven’t done anything…why are you avoiding them?”

Patton pressed his lips together. His smile was completely gone now.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” Logan said. Carefully, he reached out and touched Patton’s arm. “But I care about you. We care about you. If something is hurting or inhibiting you…we want to help.”

Patton gave a short, shaky nod. “I—”

“Take your time.”

“I—” Patton’s face crumpled. “I’m being stupid.”

“I hardly think so,” Logan said. “If it is distressing you, it is not stupid.”

“Right.” Patton gave a watery smile. “You know, Logan, I never told you how much I like that tie of yours! It adds a lot to your a-tie-re, you should knot think of giving it up en-tie-rly!”

Logan ran his hand down his blue tie. “Thank you, Patton.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo!”

“…but you’re deflecting,” he added softly. Carefully, letting Patton stop him if he wanted to, Logan placed his arm around Patton’s shoulders. “I’m not asking you about my tie. I’m asking about you, Patton.”

Patton’s shoulders began to shake under Logan’s arm, and before he knew it, his best friend was crying into his shirt.

Logan didn’t interrupt. He stroked Patton’s back gently, letting Patton release his tears. After a few minutes of sobbing, Patton hiccupped twice and began to apologize.

“Stop,” Logan murmured. “It’s not your fault. You needed to get that out.”

“I—” Patton began to cry again. “I’m being so selfish—they’re so nice, and wonderful, and they care about each other, they love each other, and I want them to be happy—they’re happy!—so why am I—why do I feel—"

“Breathe, Patton.” Logan lay a hand on Patton’s head and began stroking his hair. Patton clutched Logan’s polo shirt tighter, almost hugging him as he cried. At this point Patton was almost in Logan’s lap, curled into his chest, pressed against Logan’s heart.

“It’s okay,” Logan said, letting Patton’s curls cascade around his hand. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m going to ruin it for them—”

“You love them.” Logan kept his voice quiet, giving Patton a chance to back out. “Yes?”

Slowly, Patton nodded.

“Then that is not your fault,” Logan assured him. “You cannot control your feelings any more than…any more than one can stop a river from flowing. Yes, you can dam up the river, but eventually it will break through and cause more damage. The only way to deal with the problem is to go with the flow.” Logan tenderly brushed a few locks of hair from Patton’s head. “You need to ride with the current, Patton. Ignoring the problem and pushing away people you love in the process…that’s repression, and just like with the dam, it will only make things worse when emotions do break through.”

Patton gave a watery giggle. “You’re so smart, Lolo.”

Logan felt something twitch at the nickname—annoyance, probably. Annoyance that made his face burn red. But now was not the time.

“…I have to tell them, don’t I?” Patton asked quietly.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Gently, Logan took Patton’s hands and pulled them from his shirt, folding their fingers together and rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Patton’s hands. “But I would recommend it.”

Patton’s lip wobbled. “What if they hate me? Or they think I’m weird, or—”

Despite himself, Logan smiled. “Any excuse you give me, believe me. I’ve heard it before. When Virgil and Roman didn’t want to confess their feelings. I think we both know how that turned out.”

He got a small, hesitant smile in return. A smile that could outshine the sun.

“They’re so wonderful…” Patton sighed wistfully, staring into nothing. “Virgil…Roman…they just—everything they do, they’re so strong, they—you know how wonderful they are, right, Lo?”

Logan thought of Virgil’s snappy retorts, Roman’s overblown theatrics, and how they seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces. Night and day, moon and sun, yin and yang, opposites that complemented each other and helped each other grow. Virgil, with his wry smile and astute observations and sewing skills. Roman, with the theater he loved so much and the friends he loved even more, always ready to seize the day and create something new. They couldn’t see the worth within themselves, the light that shone in their eyes, but they could see each other’s. And Logan could see theirs.

“Yes, I know.” Logan smiled into Patton’s hair. “At least, I’m starting to.”

                                                                                                                               Despite Patton’s worries, the conversation went well. Roman, of course, was thrilled—he’d loved Patton for months. Virgil, although he admitted he had never thought of Patton that way, was still open to the idea. And after a few months, it was clear he was falling head-over-heels.

It was the three of them now. Virgil-Roman-Patton. Virgil and Roman’s snappy banter and nervous kisses were now complemented by Patton’s boundless compassion and propensity for snuggling. It was not uncommon for Virgil to spend the night at Roman and Patton’s apartment, the three piled on the couch amidst various blankets and pillows, The Emperor’s New Groove playing as they fell asleep.

Of course, despite Logan’s new status as the figurative Fourth Wheel—a misleading term, because four-wheeled mechanisms of transportation were far more common than three-wheeled ones—they still made sure Logan felt included. They still had movie nights, one-on-one conversations, friendly walks to the park or to the store. Logan didn’t begrudge their new need for only-the-three-of-them days. It made sense—they were dating. They wanted time on their own. And it made something in his chest loosen with warmth when he saw them together, smiling and laughing, fitting together like pieces in a puzzle. They were his friends, and he was happy they were happy. Even if ridiculous levels of PDA did make his chest sting a bit.

The day things changed wasn’t a day at all. It was a night, and it was a night in the city, and it was the night Logan realized something very important.

The problem was, it would have been a great night if he hadn’t.

It was fall. The air was nippy and chilled, leaves beginning to lose their chlorophyll and reveal the fiery shades underneath. Virgil was already counting down the days until Halloween—Logan came home from school one day to see him draping spiderwebs across every available surface, bopping along to This is Halloween.

Roman had just landed a part in a local production of Into the Woods—Prince Charming. Virgil jumped on the opportunity for a nickname and soon Prince Charming, or Princey for short, was his pet name for Roman. Roman acted offended, but it was a term of endearment and a reminder of his success as an actor, so Logan guessed he didn’t really mind.

To celebrate, Patton decided they should all go out for dinner together. He recommended a Mexican place downtown, and Virgil and Roman were thrilled. Logan, assuming it was going to be a date, didn’t respond to the invite. That got him yelled at.

Princey: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T INVITED

Princey: WE MADE THESE PLANS IN THE GROUP CHAT

Princey: THE GROUP CHAT THAT YOU ARE IN

Princey: IF WE DIDN’T WANT U, WOULD WE HAVE TOLD U WHEN/WHERE/WHY IT WAS HAPPENING?

Pattoncake: Calm down Ro!!

Pattoncake: it was just a misunderstanding

Pattoncake: but you’re coming right Lolo?

Princey: You’d better

Princey: This is a night to celebrate MY AMAZINGNESS and ALL my favorite people must be there

Emo Nightmare: if u don’t come i’ll probly end up murdering princey for singing agony too much

Princey: IT IS A GREAT SONG AND I WILL FIGHT YOU WITH MY BEAUTIFULLY MANICURED SWORD

Pattoncake: okay let’s calm down, no murder on Roro’s big night!

Emo Nightmare: ok I wont kill princey

Emo Nightmare: but ill kill L if he doesn’t show up

Pattoncake: That’s not really better.

Princey: I stand with you Virgil! The nerd shall come or be PUNISHED BY DEATH!

Emo Nightmare: yep

Pattoncake: No!!!!

Pattoncake: if he doesn’t come, that’s okay

Pattoncake: I’ll just eat all his crofters! I’m sure he won’t mind!

Emo Nightmare: holy shit patton’s bringing out the big guns

Lo-bot: Fine. I will come. Please do not threaten me or my jam.

Princey: Wait that worked?

Pattoncake: I know Lolo well!! ;)

Emo Nightmare: okay that was actually kind of terrifying

Lo-bot: Also, please stop calling me LoLo.

Emo Nightmare: quiet lolo

Princey: LMAO already changed your name

Lolo: …Pardon me while I scream.

So Logan went to the date—the not-a-date-anymore, the date-except-Logan-is-here. He met up with Patton and Roman and Virgil, the brisk autumn wind making his cheeks red, wearing a woolen greatcoat and grey checkered scarf. Virgil said he was overdressed for the temperature. Patton said he looked like Sherlock. Roman said that the eighteen-hundreds called and they wanted their nerd back.

Patton was wearing a pale blue shirt and a cardigan with soft jeans. Little cat patterns were sewed on his knees. Virgil had his usual black-and-purple hoodie, and Roman had a red-and-gold jacket over a plain white shirt. They made quite the team, walking down to the restaurant, Roman waving at everyone and Patton running up to pet every dog in the vicinity.

The restaurant’s food was delicious. They got several plates of food and shared them—a pile of roasted chicken, a bean soup, a salad, a bowl of yucca fries, and other wraps and dishes. Roman only sang Agony once, and he kept his volume low.

“What else?” Patton asked as they stretched, bellies full, and made their way to the door. “It’s dark but it’s still early.”

They decided to walk around the city for a while. The lights were on, windows glowing in the dark. Streetlights illuminated their skins, creating halos of light around Patton’s curly hair and Virgil’s smug smile and Roman’s breathless grin. The sidewalk was busy, the roads even busier, but they still had stretches to themselves. It was a wild night, the sort of night that seemed separate from any day before or after it, crisp and clear and alive.

Laughing and talking, the four walked down a few blocks. They had no destination in mind, but there was something to see around every corner. Even though Logan knew this city like the back of his hand, everything looked different in the dark.

“This is wonderful,” Patton breathed. His hand was intertwined with Virgil’s, and he was leaning slightly on Roman’s shoulder. “Thank you guys.”

“No problem, Pop Star,” Virgil muttered fondly.

“Thank you!” Roman exclaimed. “It was your idea, after all.”

Logan opened his mouth to add something, but instead, he stayed silent. He had noticed, all of a sudden, that he was slightly apart and slightly behind the three of them. They walked like a single organism, intertwined and in-step. Logan was tacked on at the end, out of sync.

Not a fourth wheel, but a fourth point on a triangle. A fourth leg on a tripod. A fourth Musketeer. There was a fourth Musketeer, he vaguely remembered from English class, but he wasn’t important. He certainly wasn’t memorable.

The Rule of Three. Everything came in threes—heaven earth underworld, comedy tragedy history, reduce reuse recycle. Virgil-Roman-Patton.

So what if he was the fourth wheel? They wanted him here. They asked him to come. They were still his best friends.

Logan shook off the thoughts and walked faster, joining up with the others again. Conversation had moved on without him, and he struggled to get a sense of the discussion.

“Anywhere we want to go?” Roman was asking.

“I need more ramen,” Virgil said.

“We’re not going grocery shopping on a date—on Roman’s day,” Patton quickly amended. Logan ignored the stab he felt at those words. “And I can just cook some real noodles for you! You need to eat healthier food anyways.”

“Ramen is healthy,” Virgil grumbled.

Logan looked around and saw a bookstore nearby. It was one of his favorites, actually, and the lights were still on. They’d been there before, the four of them looking for birthday presents for each other, hiding books behind themselves and trying to clandestinely pay for them, finding strange books and funny books and books for kids and simply having fun. Patton squealing as Roman picked him up and deposited him on a beanbag, Virgil doing a dramatic reading of Fifty Shades of Grey, Logan purchasing a Ravenclaw robe and refusing to take it off. It was one of Logan’s favorite memories, and afterwards, he’d returned to the bookstore because when he closed his eyes, he could hear their laughter and watch Patton blush and Virgil smirk and Roman gasp and all of them together.

Logan opened his mouth to suggest they go to the bookstore, but Patton had already suggested something else, and Roman was pressing a kiss to Patton’s head and leading them on, and something was twisting in Logan’s throat. Something ugly, choking, white-hot. He remained silent.

Slowly, he drifted away.

Finally he was almost six feet behind them, watching them glow in the street lights, snatches of conversation and laughter drifting back to him. He watched Virgil shove Roman and Roman shove Virgil back, Patton inserting himself between the pair and chiding them.

Logan felt…he felt like something was clawing at his insides. He felt like his breath was labored, something jammed in his throat. He felt a terrible fire kindling in his stomach, and another burning sensation around his eyes. His mouth was dry and his hands were clenched so his knuckles showed white caps of bone.

This wasn’t feeling left-out. This wasn’t just feeling like a fourth wheel. It was something more.

Carefully, Logan peeled back the anger—was it anger? Just pain? Sadness? Fear? He didn’t know, he couldn’t tell, but something was definitely hurting, shattered and broken and piercing his veins.

It was want, crawling through him.

Of course. He wanted things to be normal, he wanted them to be friends without crashing a date every time he came with. He wanted time with them, he wanted—he wanted—

He wanted to be there, under the streetlights, as Patton shivered and Roman pulled his jacket off. Soon Patton was wearing it over the cardigan, a ridiculous combination that he managed to pull off. He wanted to be with them, not six feet behind, getting no glances or acknowledgments. He wanted to slot between them like a piece to their puzzle, feel Roman’s arm as it wrapped around Patton and Virgil, link hands with Patton like Virgil did with Roman, let Patton give a kiss to his cheek like—

Oh.

Oh.

Logan stopped dead on the sidewalk.

Oh, shit.

Frantically, he tried to think of another explanation for his feelings. But now that he’d admitted even a sliver of it to himself, a figurative dam broke in his mind. Hundreds of glances, touches, flutterings in the chest, suddenly made sense. Patton, Roman, Virgil, his best friends, who he’d spent years with. Patton’s smile, Virgil’s laugh, Roman’s voice—they were as much a part of Logan as his DNA.

He loved them. He always had.

But…he didn’t just love them as friends, did he?

Friends didn’t want to hold hands with other friends. Friends didn’t want to kiss other friends. Friends didn’t want to walk down a gleaming sidewalk at night, shoulders bumping together, steps all in sync.

Logan was still motionless. Lights glowed around him, but the world seemed blurry and off-kilter. He couldn’t feel the cold on his cheeks or the warmth of his scarf. He closed his eyes and opened them. The world was still disorientating, swimming around him, lights dancing like fish in the ocean.

Up ahead, Roman-Virgil-Patton had stopped at a crosswalk. After a few seconds, Virgil looked back, probably assuming Logan was a few steps behind them. Alarm crossed his face when he realized Logan was still standing in the center of the sidewalk.

Logan tried to shake some sense into himself as Virgil approached. He couldn’t just stand there! They’d get concerned! He took a wobbly step forward, then another. His feet seemed disconnected from his ankles.

“Lo?” Virgil asked. Roman and Patton were behind him, identical expressions of worry on their faces. “Everything okay?”

Logan opened his mouth to say he was fine, they should just continue. But did he want to keep walking with them? Did he want to keep crashing their night, keep staring at what he couldn’t have? They didn’t need him here, that much was obvious. He should just make it easy on them and leave of his own accord.

“I am adequate,” Logan said. “However, I have just realized it is later than I expected. Due to my classes tomorrow that necessitate an early rise, I must ask for permission to conclude this venture.”

Here he went with the overly complex words. Although Logan had a naturally sesquipedalian nature, he noticed a marked increase in long sentences when he was nervous. Hopefully the others would dismiss the verbal tic as ‘Logan being Logan.’

Patton checked his watch and gasped. “Oh my goodness, it is late! Almost ten o’clock already! I’m so sorry, Lolo!”

“It is no trouble,” Logan assured him. “It is only natural that you lost track of time.”

Virgil shrugged. “I guess that’s it, then? We can head back.”

“Aw, come on.” Roman pouted. It looked far less cute when he did it than Patton. “Can’t Specs miss one class for me? The night’s just getting started. Who cares about proper education when you could be with us?”

“My teachers,” Logan pointed out. “And myself.”

“Boo.”

“Now, now, Roman!” Patton waggled a gloved finger at his boyfriend. “You gotta respect Lolo’s decision. He’s his own person. And he was very kind to take the evening off to support you.”

“Ugh, fine.” Roman sighed. “Let’s go back.”

Logan frowned. Something tugged at his stomach when he thought about them ending their adventure early on his account. “You can continue on without me. I do not mind.”

“No, it’s okay!” Patton smiled. “It’s about time to turn in!”

“I insist,” Logan said. “I do not want your evening to conclude preemptively due to my own scheduling.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” Roman complained.

Logan couldn’t resist snapping back. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

Virgil and Patton glanced at each other. Fortunately, they decided not to comment. Virgil only said “Be careful walking home on your own. Text me when you get back.”

“I will. Thank you for your concern.” Logan stuffed his fingers in his pockets and turned away. “I hope you have a wonderful night.”

“Bye!” Patton called, waving frantically.

“Farewell!” Roman proclaimed.

Virgil gave his customary two-fingered salute.

Logan simply raised a hand in return, turning the corner and walking out of sight.

And the universe granted him a small boon—it began to rain, softly and gently on the concrete. Soon Logan was dripping wet, droplets sliding down his face.

When he began to cry, he knew no one could tell. His tears were hidden by the rain.

So Logan Mackenzie let himself cry.

                                                                                                                                Logan could not avoid the others. He lived with Virgil, after all, and Roman and Patton both loved attention and were intuitive enough to pinpoint when something was wrong. So Logan knew it was fruitless to try and push them away. They would only get suspicious, concerned, and hurt.

Still, illogical as he knew it was, he tried.

For three days he didn’t answer his phone. He didn’t speak with Roman or Patton. When Virgil knocked on his door or asked him questions, he fielded them with monosyllabic replies and assertions of “Everything is fine, I am just caught up with studying.” Virgil didn’t buy it—of course, of course he didn’t buy it, he was so smart and perceptive and that was one of the millions of reasons Logan loved him, and here he went down that rabbit hole again.

It was like realizing his feelings had opened a figurative floodgate. Roman, Patton, and Virgil were on his mind all the time. He drank coffee and was reminded of Roman’s cocoa. He wrestled with math equations and remembered tutoring Virgil in high school. He closed his eyes at night and thought of Patton, curled up by his side.

Logan couldn’t take it.

Once in a while he checked his phone. The long lines of worried texts from Patton and Roman made something squeeze in his chest. He waited for them to inevitably peter out and stop. They didn’t.

They probably thought he was sick or dying or something. Hadn’t Virgil told them he was perfectly fine? Sure, they may have assumed he was suffering from some sort of emotional problem, but did that really deserve all this concern?

Finally, after a particularly desperate bout of texting around midnight, Logan wrote back. He kept it short and simple.

Lolo: In response to your queries, I am doing well. Please cease your attempts to contact me. Thank you.

Logan honestly didn’t expect them to write back. He’d given them an easy out from the situation. They no longer had to feel guilty about him and could go about their lives.

But—

Princey: WHAT

Pattoncake: Kiddo are u okay?

Princey: LOGAN WE’RE NOT GONNA STOP WHAT

Pattoncake: u know we love u, right?

Emo Nightmare: call me

Pattoncake: you’re our friend

Princey: YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT

Emo Nightmare: logan please call me

Emo Nightmare: now

Logan swallowed. Slowly, he dialed Virgil’s number.

Virgil picked up on the first ring. “Dude, what the hell?”

“I—”

“No. Shut up. I’m going to keep talking.” Virgil paused and sighed. “L…we’re really worried about you.”

“Where are you?” Logan asked.

“Ro and Pat’s.”

Logan bit his lip. “Of course.”

“I can come home.” A loud rustling sounded from Virgil’s end. “I’m putting on my jacket, I can be there in ten—”

“Not necessary, Virgil.” Logan ran his fingers through his hair. He’d prefer it if he didn’t have to see Virgil’s face at all, with the soft purple bangs hanging over his dark eyes and the light freckles he pretended he didn’t have and—

Off topic.

“I just…” Virgil’s voice was soft and concerned, and Logan cursed himself for making that worry appear. “This is so sudden, L. Did we do something? Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad!” Logan hastily said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what?” Virgil asked. “I…look, L, if we made you feel—uncomfortable, or anything, I’m sorry…”

“Uncomfortable?”

“You seemed pretty out-of-it when we celebrated with Roman, I guess I just assumed.” Virgil paused. “You’re my friend too, and I care about you. No matter if I’m dating you or not.”

“Right.” Logan swallowed. “What about Patton and Roman?”

“What about them?” Virgil asked incredulously. “They’ve been texting you frantically for the past three days, Patton’s stressbaked enough food to end world hunger twice over, and Roman’s temper is on a hair trigger. You really think they don’t feel the same way I do?”

Logan ran his thumb across his phone case. “No, I—”

“You what, L?” Virgil’s voice dropped. “Please. I’m worried about you. Just…talk to me.”

What could Logan say? That he suddenly realized he had been harboring crushes on his three best friends for perhaps a year and a half? That he didn’t want to see them again because it would only deepen the infatuation and he was bound to give himself away or look like a fool? That he didn’t want to make his friends uncomfortable, because it would be nothing but awkward if the truth did come to light?

“It’s complicated.” Logan sighed. “I…I have a few things I need to figure out, Virgil. Just…can you give me some more time? A week?” That wouldn’t be enough time to suffocate his affections entirely, but it could allow him to think of a better game plan. “Stay at Patton and Roman’s apartment for a while. I know you do that often anyway. I just…I need some time alone.”

Virgil was silent for a few seconds. “Can you promise Patton’s three rules? You’re not hurting anyone, no one’s hurting you, you’re not hurting yourself?”

Logan channeled all his certainty into his voice. “No one is being harmed. This is not a matter of such grave importance. It is just an—identity issue.”

“Well, alright. If you say you need it.” Virgil didn’t sound fully convinced. “You can always call me or Pat, okay? There’s extra food in the freezer, make sure you have your full meals and go to bed at a reasonable time, okay?”

“Virgil, it is currently one in the morning.”

Virgil paused. “Huh. So it is.”

Logan clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Whatever. My point still stands. Go to bed.” Logan could almost hear Virgil’s smirk. “Always keeping me on my toes, aren’t you, L?”

“You don’t need any help with that,” Logan said.

“True, I’ve got the anxiety.” Virgil clicked his tongue. “So…well…I guess that’s that, then? Call me anytime, eat your veggies, brush your teeth, listen to your parents?”

Logan huffed. “I should be telling you that instead.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said. “You’ll be okay?”

“I…” Logan hesitated. “I hope so.”

“Me too,” Virgil muttered. “Because I love Patton’s baking, I promise, but I’ve eaten more cookies than should be humanly possible. I don’t think my hoodie will fit anymore.”

Logan laughed again. “I will take that into account.”

“All right.” Virgil’s voice dipped. “Love you, L.”

It was a simple phrase. They said it all the time, platonically. It was a way of expressing affection, and although Logan had trouble verbalizing feelings and Virgil had trouble showing emotional vulnerability, they had both gotten better at the phrase over the years. It slipped out easily now, with barely a second thought. Of course he loved Virgil. And Patton and Roman.

But in light of recent revelations, even such a simple phrase made Logan’s heart simultaneously speed up and stop altogether. These cardiopulmonary abnormalities were highly irritating.

“I…” Logan’s mouth was dry. “Thank you, Virgil.”

Before Virgil could respond, he tapped the End Call button and tossed his phone on the desk, closing his eyes and rubbing his hand down his nose. That was a disastrous phone call if he’d ever participated in one.

At least he got a week to figure things out. Perhaps he could find a way to hide his feelings or better yet, get rid of them altogether. Perhaps he could land a job in Tokyo and move across the world and never have to face them again.

Perhaps he was being a tad dramatic.

A week without the others. This would be good for him, he told himself. He would enjoy it. It didn’t matter that he found himself dreading a week without Virgil’s dry sarcasm and tendency to sit everywhere except on chairs, Roman’s incessant singing of Disney songs and inability to remember history if it wasn’t events in Hamilton or Les Miserables, or Patton’s favorite cat hoodie and his weekly “experiment” meals where he added lots of cumin or onion to a dish and the others had to taste the aftermath. It didn’t matter that he would eat alone, do his homework alone, watch movies alone. That was exactly what he wanted.

Suddenly, the apartment felt very empty.

Logan turned off his lights, changed into his pajamas, and tucked himself into bed. It was a long time before he slept.

He did not spend a week alone.

He spent the first four days of the week alone, burying himself in his studies and rereading Murder on the Orient Express whenever he got too bored. Despite his promise to Virgil, he stayed up later and later and mostly ate energy bars, leftover ramen, and a few strawberries from a jumbo pack of strawberries Patton had bought. Virgil did not call or text him. Roman called him once, leaving a voicemail that said “Is the Mona Lisa only famous because it was stolen? Virgil and I disagree on the matter.” Logan did not call him back.

Patton kept texting him, however. Perhaps Virgil hadn’t explained that Logan wanted to be left alone, or perhaps Patton had simply disregarded the instructions entirely. Whatever the case, Patton continued to send him Patton Texts™ at random times. A Patton Text™ was a text sent with the express purpose of cheering someone up, usually consisting of a cute animal picture, a clean meme, a fun news story, a dad joke, or, occasionally, a dirty meme. Patton Texts™ didn’t require a response, a purpose, or any sort of context. They just existed. It was, Logan had to admit, rather sweet.

On the fourth day, Logan woke up to a photo of a kitten with its head stuck inside a box, a horrible pun (What do you call a country where everyone drives a pink automobile? A pink carnation!) and a reminder that he needed to ‘TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OR I WILL PHYSICALLY FIGHT U.’ Throughout the day, Patton sent him several cute cat videos. Despite himself, Logan always paused and watched them.

One part of him whispered that Patton only watched cat videos when he was sad. Logan tried his best to ignore that part.

It was late that evening when he got a text. Assuming it was another Patton Text™, Logan paused the documentary he was watching and pulled out his phone. However, it wasn’t Patton. It was a direct text from Virgil.

Virgil Conroy: L call me

Logan frowned. Why was Virgil contacting him? He had promised to respect his wishes. He wouldn’t text him unless—

Unless something was seriously wrong.

Quickly dialing Virgil’s number, Logan sprung up from the couch and tugged on his shoes.

It took five rings for Virgil to respond. When Logan said “Hello?” he got no answer.

“Virgil?” Logan asked. Listening closely, he could hear Virgil’s breathing. It was far too fast and frantic. In the distance, there was a loud thud, then another. Virgil began to breathe even faster.

“Virgil, can I assume you are suffering from an anxiety attack?”

There was no response.

“Virgil.” Logan grabbed his keys and dashed out the door, practically flying down the steps. “Tap the phone once for no and twice for yes.”

A pause, then a hesitant tap. Then another.

“Okay.” Logan walked down the sidewalk, weaving around people and taking the crosswalks at a run. “Can you breathe for me? In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8?”

A shuddering, deep breath. Logan started counting, still going as fast as he could. He barely needed to focus on the route—he knew the way to Patton’s apartment as well as the way to his own.

“You’re doing so great,” Logan said, rounding a corner. “You’re doing wonderfully, Virgil. Can you tell me five things you can see?”

“Um—” Virgil’s voice was shaky. “Uh, floor. Bed. My…my Nightmare Before Christmas posters. Window. Door.”

“Good. Four things you can feel?”

“Hoodie.” Virgil swallowed. “Floor. H-hair. Um…tears?”

“Okay.” Logan watched the traffic lights and bolted for the other side as soon as the walk signal glowed white. “Three things you can hear.”

“Traffic outside. B-birds.” Virgil sniffed. “Roman throwing stuff in the bedroom.”

That wasn’t good. Logan kept his voice level. “Two things you can smell?”

“Popcorn and burnt cookies?”

“And one thing you can taste.”

Virgil sighed. “Popcorn.”

“Great.” Logan slowed down as a mass of people crowded past him. “How do you feel?”

“N-not great, L. Obviously.” Virgil chuckled. “Um. Sorry for texting you, it was on instinct, I know you didn’t want to be bothered—”

“It is no trouble,” Logan insisted. “Your wellbeing is extremely important to me and I am glad I could assist.”

“Huh.”

“Virgil?” Logan asked.

“Yeah?”

“You do not have to, but…could you tell me what happened?”

Logan heard Virgil shift. “Argument,” he finally said. “Bad one.”

“Oh.”

“Ro and Pat were yelling a lot. I think Pat started crying. He’s in the bathroom now, I wanted to help him but all the yelling set me off, and—”

“Take a deep breath,” Logan said. “You did everything you could. Taking care of yourself is important, and you were very brave in reaching out. I’m—I’m proud of you.”

A siren wailed next to Logan as he jogged down the sidewalk. He was only a minute from Virgil’s apartment now.

“What was that?” Virgil asked.

“Siren.”

“Wh—” Virgil paused. “L, where are you?”

“I—” Logan looked around. “Oak Street?”

“Why on earth are you—”

“Give me a second, all right?” Logan pulled the phone from his ear. “I’ll talk in a second.”

Then he ran, leaping over cracks in the sidewalk and hurtling past trees, ignoring the confused looks of bystanders. The streetlights flashed above him, the sidewalk sparkling in the neon glow. Cars raced past him, careening through the night, headlights illuminating the haze. The windows and doors of the city rowhomes blurred together.

Finally, Logan skidded to a stop and climbed up the stairs to a brownstone at the end of the road. Slipping his hand under the small dog statue, he grabbed the key and turned it in the lock. The hallway was empty as he crept past the downstairs apartments, taking the stairs two at a time.

Patton’s apartment was unlocked. Logan didn’t bother knocking. The living room was empty, the TV still playing a paused scene from Lilo & Stitch, an abandoned popcorn bowl and pile of blankets on the couch. The kitchen lights were on, a few cookies left on the stove. The bathroom and bedroom doors were closed. A loud thump came from the bedroom on the far side. It sounded like someone punching a pillow, and indeed, that was probably the cause.

Logan pulled out his phone again. Talking quietly so as not to disturb anyone, he asked Virgil, “You’re in the bedroom?”

“Yeah—”

Logan walked forward and knocked on the bedroom door.

There was shuffling behind it, Virgil muttered “Just a sec,” and the door was opened. Virgil stood there, hoodie half-fallen from his shoulders, eyes red and hair mussed. He looked Logan up and down, mouth falling open.

“Did you—run here?”

Logan shrugged. Now that he was standing still, he realized how out-of-breath he was. “Yes.”

“I…” Virgil stared at him. “Wow.”

“You…” Logan reached out. “May I touch you?”

“Yeah.”

Logan placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “How do you feel now?”

“Better.” Virgil fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie, but Logan noticed he leaned into the touch. “Definitely calmer. I—hearing your voice helped.”

“I’m glad I could assist.” Logan pressed a thumb gently into Virgil’s back. “Can I get you some tea? You can sit on the couch while I make it, maybe listen to some music?”

Virgil paused and nodded.

“Good.” Logan led Virgil to the couch and gave him a few of the blankets and pillows. Virgil rolled his eyes but dutifully cozied up in the corner. Logan spared a moment to appreciate the adorableness of Virgil curled up like a burrito, pulling on his headphones, before he was off to the kitchen and brewing some tea. Chamomile, he decided, would be just the thing. As the water boiled, he pulled out his phone again and texted Patton.

Lolo <3: Patton, could you come out of the bathroom? I am making Virgil some tea and I assume you could benefit from it as well.

After a minute, his phone vibrated with a response.

Patton O’Rourke: ur here????

Patton O’Rourke: I thought u were havin alone time

Lolo <3: Circumstances change. Please emerge whenever you are comfortable.

Logan returned to the tea, finding four mugs and setting them out. Behind him, he heard a door creak open. Without turning around, he said, “Hello, Patton.”

“H-hey, Lolo.” Patton shuffled forward. “I can help with the tea.”

“That is fine,” Logan said, shooting Patton a reassuring smile. “Thank you for the offer, but I would rather you just sit with Virgil. I’m sure he’d love the company.”

Patton looked apprehensively at Virgil, as if afraid he would deny it. Virgil gave Patton a small wave and scooted over on the couch. Patton delicately sat on the other end, clutching his hoodie.

Soon the teapot whistled and Logan poured the tea into the four mugs. Bringing three of them to the couch, he handed one to Virgil and one to Patton. The third he placed on the coffee table.

“Is that for you?” Patton asked.

“Roman.”

Virgil gave Logan a disbelieving look. “He’s been throwing shit around for the past half an hour. You’re not getting him out for tea, dude.”

“Not immediately, no.” Logan sat on the floor across from them. “Drink. It’ll help.”

Virgil sipped at his tea. Patton stared into the mug and didn’t move.

“Patton?” Logan reached forward and placed a hand on his leg. “Would you like to talk?”

“I—” Patton clenched his teeth. “No, I—I’m fine—”

“Patton.” Logan stood up again and sat next to Patton on the couch. “You just went through an upsetting situation and many harsh words may have been exchanged. It is perfectly reasonable—in fact, it is encouraged—to react and experience emotions about this event.”

Patton shivered. “I—”

“Would you like me to hug you?”

Patton paused and nodded.

Logan carefully placed an arm around Patton’s shoulders, taking the mug of chamomile tea from his hand. Virgil politely avoided staring as Patton fell into Logan’s side, burying his face in Logan’s shirt. His shoulders began to shake, and Logan heard him start to cry.

Tilting himself carefully, Logan pulled Patton into his lap and placed a hand behind his head. One traitorous part of himself noticed how close they were, but Logan successfully shunned it. Patton seemed very small in his arms.

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan murmured.

Patton hiccupped. “F-for what?”

“For crying. It sounds like you need this, and I’m proud of your ability to release your emotions.”

“Sure.” Patton laughed bitterly into Logan’s chest. “You’re proud of the fact I can cry. That says a lot about me, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but that is not necessarily a negative thing.” Logan reached over and began stroking Patton’s hair. “You have struggled with this in the past, and for you, this is an achievement. That doesn’t mean you’re lesser than anyone else. Your problems are your problems. Everyone has issues with some things.” Logan smiled. “Look at me, for instance.”

“If you—” Patton sniffled. “Talk bad…I will fight…”

“I know.” On instinct, Logan leaned forward and placed a kiss on Patton’s forehead. “Why don’t we leave that for later, okay? For now, do you think you could give Virgil a turn? Though I love cuddling with you, I need to check on Roman.”

Patton didn’t move. “Virgil…don’t wanna…wanna bother…”

“He’s right here, Patton.” Logan glanced at Virgil, who was still pointedly giving them space. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“He…” Patton hiccupped again. “Is he mad?”

“What?” Virgil gave up on pretending to ignore them. “Pat, no!”

“I know we…we were really loud…” Patton began to cry again. “And you got upset, and I couldn’t check on you…and I w-would understand if you h-hated me, we w-were s-stupid…I-I…”

Virgil looked shocked. “God, Pat, are you kidding? I couldn’t hate you!”

Patton simply cried louder.

“Can I…?” Virgil motioned to Patton, and Logan carefully uncurled Patton’s arms from his torso and shifted him down the couch to Virgil. Virgil reached out and Patton immediately collapsed into him, tucking his head into Virgil’s shoulder.

“Oh, Pat.” Virgil rubbed Patton’s back. “You made a mistake, but that’s okay. I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you, you’re the best fucking boyfriend ever. Don’t tell Roman.”

Patton looked up and gave a watery chuckle. “L-language, kiddo.”

“There he is. There’s my favorite Pat.” Virgil smiled softly and wiped a tear from Patton’s face. “I love you, okay?”

Patton smiled back and snuggled into Virgil’s hoodie. “Love you too.”

Logan quickly looked away, ignoring the rush of emotions in his stomach. Getting to his feet, he took the final mug from the coffee table and headed to the bedroom. The door was locked and he could hear nothing behind it.

Logan knocked on the door. “Roman?”

No response.

“Roman, could you please open the door?”

After a pause, someone mumbled “Go ‘way, Virgil.”

“This is not Virgil,” Logan said. “This is Logan.”

He jumped out of the way as the door flew open. Roman stood there, pajamas rumpled and eyes red, looking at Logan like he was the reincarnation of Nikola Tesla.

“Where—” Roman closed his eyes and opened them again. “When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. Virgil texted me.” Logan held out the mug. “Would you like some tea?”

Roman squinted suspiciously at the tea. “What kind?”

“Chamomile. I thought it would help calm everyone down.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite—” Abruptly, Roman shook his head. “No! I’m mad at you!”

“You are?” Logan kept his voice level.

“Yeah!”

“I was unaware.” Logan glanced towards Patton and Virgil, but they didn’t seem disturbed by the yelling. Virgil had slipped his headphones over Patton’s ears and was watching him fondly. “Why are you angry with me?”

Roman folded his arms and his face flushed. “’Cause you’re a fucking asshole!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Why do you think of me this way?”

“Don’t give me that sarcastic shit.”

“I was not intending to be sarcastic.” Logan waved a hand at himself. “You know I am not the best with sarcasm.”

“Shut up!”

Logan mimed zipping his lips and tossing the figurative key.

Roman rubbed his eyes. “You just waltz in here after like eternity days and knock on my door like ‘Hey what’s up remember me I exist.’ Like, what the fuck, Specs?”

“Unless I was mistaken, you agreed to the temporary separation,” Logan said. “Could you explain why it upset you?”

“I’m not upset!” Roman snapped. “I’m pissed! Can’t you tell?”

Logan looked at the tear tracks running down Roman’s face and his angry red snarl. “The two things are not mutually exclusive.”

“Get out of here with your science talk!” Roman growled. “Actually, hey, good idea! Get the fuck out in general. Leave.”

“Patton and Virgil wish me to be here,” Logan said, taking a deep breath and retaining his calm tone. Getting exercised would do no one any good. “Unless you have a solid reason for my departure, I shall remain.”

Roman frowned and violently scrubbed at his eyes. “I don’t want you here.”

“I’ve gathered.” Logan clasped the mug of tea in both hands, steam warming his fingers. “I understand your feelings about the situation. But I would like to understand the cause better. Why did my abstaining from social contact upset you?”

“’Cause you can’t just do that!” Roman burst out. “You can’t just up and walk out of the friend group! It’s not a normal thing to do!”

“Were you worried about me?” Logan asked. “Were you worried about my emotional or physical wellbeing? You should know that if something was seriously wrong, I would always tell you and the others.”

“I know, I—” Roman sighed. “I just—it came out of nowhere.” His voice tightened. “And what am I supposed to think? That you suddenly decided you wanted to be a hermit?” Roman’s hands balled into a fist. “I just don’t get it! If I did something wrong, have the fucking decency to admit it to my face!”

The last sentence was almost a shout. Virgil looked over at Logan, concern in his eyes. Logan gave him a reassuring nod before turning back to Roman, who looked about to throw something.

“Is that the problem?” Logan asked. “Do you think it was your actions that led to the situation?”

Roman glared at him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Roman.” Logan took a step forward, and Roman’s hands dug into the doorframe. “It was a personal issue of mine and I should have conveyed that better.”

Roman’s glare deepened.

“Is that what led to the argument?” Logan murmured. “Because you don’t need to stake your personal worth on my actions. I currently, and have always, considered you an amiable companion and a wonderful friend.”

Something in Roman’s expression broke.

Logan carefully set the mug down on the carpet. “Roman, would you like a hug?”

Roman eyed him warily. Logan opened his arms.

Roman rocketed into his grasp, grabbing at his shirt and burying his face in Logan’s shoulder.

“Alright. Alright.” Taking a page out of Virgil’s book, Logan rubbed circles on Roman’s back. “I have you, okay? I’ve got you.”

“I—” Roman’s voice choked up, and now he was crying. He cried differently than Patton, loudly and almost dramatically. “I—I th-thought you decided you d-didn’t like us anymore—I thought I—d-did something—you f-finally got t-tired of me—”

“I could never get tired of you,” Logan said. “Who else can debate about iambic pentameter with me? Patton still thinks it’s a weird flavor of ice cream.”

Roman gave a choked laugh that soon dissolved into more sobs.

“I love you,” Logan said, ignoring the flip in his stomach. “I love you, Roman. I love all of you.” His heart ached to leave it there, but his traitorous mouth added “You are my best friends.”

Roman’s hands squeezed tighter around Logan’s waist. Logan slipped one of his hands under Roman’s and grasped it lightly.

“Do you want to go to the couch now?” Logan asked. “You are rather heavy and I feel we could best continue this hug sitting down and perhaps with your boyfriends.”

Roman froze. “I don’t wanna.”

“Are you worried they’ll be mad at you?”

The way Roman pressed his face into Logan’s shoulder was answer enough.

“Virgil! Patton!” Logan called. Virgil looked over and Patton took off his headphones. “Roman has something he would like to say to you.”

“I d-do?”

“Yes.” Logan pulled his chin up. “You will apologize, and they will forgive you. Then you can cuddle together.”

“I—” Roman glanced at the others. “I—Pat? Virge?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“I—” His face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, I—I got insecure and I was mean to you and I love you, I love you so much, I’m so sorry—”

Patton smiled. “I love you too, Ro. I forgive you—if you’ll forgive me?”

Roman wiped his eyes. “Of course.”

Virgil gave him a half smile. “It’s alright, Princey. I’m an idiot sometimes too.”

“C’mon over!” Patton added. “There’s more than enough room.”

Logan nodded, picking the mug back up and placing it in Roman’s hand. “Go ahead.”

With a grateful glance, Roman shuffled over to the couch. Patton held out an arm and Roman fell next to him, cuddling into his side. Virgil smiled and took Roman’s hand.

Logan spared a moment to watch them curl closer—they were so sweet—then walked over to the TV.

“You’ll probably be tired,” he said, grabbing the remote and closing Lilo & Stitch. “So we should put on something relaxing so you can fall asleep. Do you want to try a nature documentary? I find them quite calming in times of distress, as long as we choose to avoid the parts about global warming. Here’s an episode about lemurs. Would you like to watch that?”

Patton nodded, already dozing off in Virgil’s arms. Roman gave Logan a thumbs up.

Logan started the player. “Okay. Since you’ll be falling asleep here, we should minimize the uncomfortable nature of the couch.” He walked down the hallway and opened the linen closet, bringing back some extra blankets, comforters, and pillows. “Feel free to use these. If Virgil wishes, I can bring him anything he needs from our apartment. I’m aware you already have your headphones, but do you want your weighted blanket?”

Virgil paused and shook his head.

“Alright, thank you for clarifying.” Logan turned down the brightness of the TV. “That won’t hurt your eyes as much—Patton, take off your glasses, there you go—and I can turn off the lights throughout the apartment and lock the door on the way out. Is there anything else you need?”

Roman took a sip of tea, pulling a blanket over his legs. “Um, I think we’re good, Specs.”

“Lolo?” Patton shifted, hair covering his face. “Can I—um, I’d like—”

Logan smiled. “Let me guess. Your panda pillow?”

Patton smiled back.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Logan walked into Patton’s bedroom and took the soft panda pillow from the bed. Patton immediately brightened when he saw it and tucked it under his head, nestling into place with a soft sigh. The three of them were entangled now, legs intertwined. Patton rested on Virgil’s shoulder, Roman curled into Patton’s side, and Virgil’s arm stretched across the back of the sofa so he could hold hands with Roman.

“Is everyone all set to go?”

Roman sleepily nodded. The TV showed lemurs hopping back and forth. Virgil’s headphones were on again, his eyes trained on the screen.

“Good.” Logan turned off the kitchen lights and closed the open doors. “Then I will be going. I hope you have a pleasant rest and you can call me if you need me.”

Patton shifted, frowning. “You’re…leaving?”

“Well, yes.” Logan pressed his lips together. “The problem is concluded to the best of my ability, so I assumed I would take my leave.”

Virgil met his eyes. “Stay? Please?”

Heat seared across Logan’s face as Patton reached out and made little grabby hands.

Sighing—he couldn’t tell them no, he knew that, it was a physically impossible concept when they were so sleepy and soft and adorable and Newton was he hopeless—Logan moved back over and carefully placed his glasses on the coffee table. Patton tugged him into the pile of blankets, and after a few moments of maneuvering, Logan was secured firmly in the middle of the couch. On his left, Patton cuddled up to him, pressing into his shoulder and humming with contentment. Roman wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Virgil gave Logan’s hair a ruffle. On the screen, the narrator talked about the eating habits of lemurs. Everything was a blur without his glasses. The blankets and pillows were soft and warm and heavy. Patton was breathing slowly, his hair rustling with each exhale. Roman was watching the lemurs, a small smile on his face. Virgil closed his eyes and bobbed his head to his music.

Logan hadn’t realized how tired he was. It was probably the lack of sleep and his ruined circadian rhythms. Definitely not the comforting weight of others near him, reminding him that he was safe, not alone, loved.

Closing his eyes, Logan succumbed to sleep.

                                                                                                                               Logan wasn’t really awake.

He wasn’t asleep either, because he could hear Virgil shift and the strains of the credit sequence for the TV show—it wasn’t the same show he’d left on, he noticed, so time must have passed. But he was tired, and warm, and happy, and he didn’t want to open his eyes. He just wanted to sink back into sleep. The blankets were heavy around him, something soft was under his head, a comforting weight in his hair and oh, it was moving, someone was scratching his head, why hadn’t he tried this before it felt absolutely heavenly—

The fingers pressed into his scalp and Logan whined, leaning into the touch. When was the last time he let someone near him? He’d started refusing hugs a while ago after the three of them started dating. He didn’t realize he missed it so much.

Someone chuckled above him. “You’re so adorable when you’re sleeping.”

“Who’s adorable?” said another sleepy voice.

“Look at Logan.”

A muffled squeal came from his left. “Aww, he’s all curled up!”

“Watch this,” Roman said—that was Roman, right? Oh no, was he cuddling with Roman? He needed to wake up, he needed to stop being in this compromising position—

Roman was scratching his head again, and all coherent and rational thought flew out the figurative window.

Logan whined again. He couldn’t help himself. Patton squealed even louder. “He’s so adorable!”

“I know, right?” Roman’s voice was softer than Logan had ever heard, except maybe when addressing Virgil or Patton. “He’s the cutest.”

“And so helpful,” Patton added. “We need to thank him later, guys. Like, serious surprise party thank-you cookies and fun-times thank you.”

“He fixed everything, didn’t he? He knew exactly how to help.” Roman shifted, and before Logan knew it, he’d gotten a small kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for everything, you amazing little nerd.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. Right—Virgil. Virgil was there. His voice was hoarse with sleep. “I don’t know what we’d do without him—”

Virgil paused.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked. “You alright?”

“Shit.”

“What?” Roman asked, jostling Logan. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Virgil hesitated. “I think I figured something out.”

“What is it?” Patton asked.

And Logan tried to prick his ears for the answer, but sleep overcame him again, and he fell into darkness with Roman holding him upright.

                                                                                                                               Logan needed coffee.

Extricating himself from the blankets, he saw that Virgil, Patton, and Roman had already left the couch and were discussing something in one corner of the kitchen. Blearily, he wiped his eyes and placed his glasses on his face. The sharper focus revealed a pensive look on Virgil’s face, an excited look on Patton’s, and a nervous look on Roman’s.

Logan stumbled to his feet and headed for the coffee maker. Their conversation was none of his business. He also had a vague memory of cuddling up to Roman, which made his face flush every time he recalled it, so he would rather avoid talking to them until the embarrassment wore off.

The conversation abruptly stopped when Logan approached. That was odd, but Logan was too sleepy to remark on it. Wow, was it nine o’clock already? Good thing he had no classes until three.

Filling a mug with coffee, he downed a few mouthfuls and felt the caffeine buzz through him. Feeling more awake, he turned to the others, only to find they were staring at him.

“What?” he asked self-consciously. He touched his hair to see if it was mussed. It was. He combed it roughly with his fingers, but a few locks still stuck up in the air.

“Um—” Roman squeaked. “Nothing!”

“Do I have something on my face?” Logan looked between Patton, who had a sheepish grin, Roman, who was blushing furiously, and Virgil, who stared at the ground. “What is happening?”

“Just tell him how you feel,” Virgil muttered to himself, clenching his fists. “There’s no good reason not to.”

“What?” Logan placed his coffee on the counter. “Is everything alright? Is there a problem?”

“L?” Virgil glanced at the others, who gave him encouraging glances. “I—we. We need to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“Well.” Virgil fiddled with his jacket. “I guess I’ll just spit it out then? I…we…why did you make me do this, guys? I’m terrible at it!”

Roman snorted. “Well, I’m certainly not doing it!”

“You can do this, kiddo.” Patton smiled at Virgil. “We’ve got your back.”

“Take your time, Virgil.” Logan looked at him with concern. “There’s no pressure.”

“I just—” Virgil screwed his eyes shut. “I don’t want this to ruin anything.”

“I doubt it would ruin anything,” Logan said. “Unless you’ve committed a serious felony or have secretly been a flat-earther this entire time, I think our relationship will survive.”

Roman snickered.

“Right. Okay.” Virgil bit his lip. “Well. On the subject of—relationships…”

Logan nodded and ignored the jolt that passed through his subjects.

“It’s like a Band-Aid, you’ve just got to rip it off.” Virgil clenched his fists. “Weallfiguredoutwekindasortalikeyoumorethanafriend!”

Logan blinked. “What?”

“We like you,” Patton clarified. “Romantically.”

“Oh, there you are,” Virgil mumbled, eyes still closed. “You couldn’t have stepped in earlier?”

Logan’s brain seemed to have short-circuited. Logan.exe had crashed. “What?”

“I don’t know how we could make it clearer, Specs.” Roman was smiling, but his tone betrayed a hint of nervousness. “You’re cute and we wanna date you.”

“Only if you want to!” Patton added hastily. “We don’t want to pressure you into anything and I know you probably don’t think of us that way, or at least not all of us, but we thought we should clear the air and admit it.”

Logan opened his mouth and closed it.

“So…” Virgil shifted. “Yeah, L. What they said.”

Finally, Logan found his voice. “How long?”

“What?” Patton asked.

“How long have you…felt this way?”

Roman laughed. “About two years? I fell for you when I fell for the others. It was all three of you at once—a triple-whammy crush cavalcade, if you will. It was a nightmare.”

“Two years?” Logan repeated. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“I felt awkward about it.” Roman shrugged, looking away. “And you made it very clear you didn’t like me back.”

Hell no. I would never want to date you. You’re just not my type.

Shit.

“I started more recently, I think?” Patton tapped his chin. “Soon after Roman and Virgil and I started dating. It was lovely, but I always felt like something—someone—was missing.” He shot Logan a soft smile. “Turns out it was you, Lolo.”

“I…er, I only figured it out last night.” Virgil shrugged sheepishly. “But yeah. For a while, probably. Maybe even before Roman. You’ve just—you’ve always been there, constant, and…I guess I never knew how much I relied on that. I—yeah. You’re—yeah.” He rubbed his blushing face. “Sorry, I’m—I’m bad with words.”

Logan tried to wrangle his thoughts into a coherent sentence, but his cheeks were burning, his chest was flaming, and his eyes were stinging.

“So that’s that, I guess?” Roman rubbed at his arm. “You don’t—you don’t have to like us back, dude. We just wanted to get that out in the open. Like you advised, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed with a smile. “Can you imagine if we just bottled up our feelings and avoided the situation altogether? You’d be very disappointed in us, Lolo.”

Logan stared at him. Laughter bubbled up in his throat, and before he could stop himself, he began to chuckle.

“What is it?” Roman asked.

Logan shook his head, laughing harder. He grabbed onto the counter for support as he cracked up. His eyes were leaking fluid now as he doubled over.

“What happened?” Virgil asked. “L, you good?”

“I—give me a sec—” Logan tried to pull himself together, but soon he lost it again. “I—the irony, I can’t believe this—”

“Um…” Roman frowned. “Much as I hate to interrupt a laugh session, especially because this is undeniably endearing, could you enlighten us on the cause of this ruckus? Or have you just gone full Joker?”

“I-I’m fine—” Logan kept laughing, rubbing at his eyes.

“Uh, you sure, kiddo?” Patton said, his voice far too concerned for the situation. “’Cause, um, you’re—"

A tear slipped down his face, and oh. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He was crying.

“L?” Virgil asked.

Logan was crying openly now. He covered his face with his sleeve and tried to wipe away the tears, but whenever one dried, another fell. His face felt hot and sick and disgusting. He wanted to stop crying, to stop looking so foolish in front of them, but his breath refused to be caught and his crying refused to cease.

He didn’t even know why he was crying. This was good news! There was nothing to be sad about!

“Lo?” Patton stepped forward, arms open. “Do you need a hug? It looks like you need a hug.”

Logan couldn’t speak, but he managed a nod.

And Patton was hugging him, cradling him against his chest and the contact just made Logan cry harder because this is what he could have had, this is what he was missing—

“I’m an idiot,” Logan choked out. “I am a complete, foolish idiot.”

“What?” Roman asked. “How dare you slander yourself like this! I don’t quite know why you’re saying that, or why you started crying, but I can assure you that you are a very smart human!”

“You don’t get it.” Logan wiped his eyes. For some reason, he was still smiling. Was he happy? Were these happy tears? He felt terrible, but there was a glow in his chest and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“What don’t we get?” Patton asked, squeezing his shoulders.

“I—” Logan looked around at them all, concerned and compassionate and beautiful. “I’ve been in love with the three of you for more than a year.”

Roman made a noise like a squeaky toy being stepped on.

“What?” Virgil stared him down. “You’re kidding.”

Weakly, Logan shook his head.

“But…” Patton frowned. “Lolo, you got us all together!”

“Y-yes.” Logan scrubbed his face. “You seemed happy with each other, I was glad to play the figurative matchmaker if it was what you wanted.”

Patton pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes wide.

“Shit, L.” Virgil shook his head. “Shit.”

“What did we do to deserve you?” Roman mumbled.

“In fairness,” Logan said, “I only figured it out last week.”

“A-at Roman’s evening?” Patton looked about to cry as well. “I—I thought you were acting off, I didn’t realize—”

“That’s why you avoided us, wasn’t it?” Roman seemed to search Logan’s face for denial. When he found none, his face crumpled. “You avoided us because you liked us?”

“I—I did not want things to become awkward between us. I wanted time to sort things out and see if those feelings would—” Logan waved a hand. “Dissipate of their own accord. But I was too far gone, and I—then you called me, and I couldn’t leave you alone, I couldn’t—”

“Shit,” Virgil said again.

“You know,” Patton said with a soft smile, “if you’d have just taken your own smart advice, we could have started dating weeks ago. Maybe even months.”

“Doubtful,” Logan admitted. “Feelings are not my strong suit. I would not have figured it out any earlier than I did.”

“And that’s okay.” Virgil reached forward and took Logan’s hand. “You’re doing alright, L. Better than alright.”

“You got us together, after all!” Roman agreed. “Even if that was unnecessarily self-sacrificing on your part. And you helped us last night, too. I suppose only one question remains…”

“Will you,” Patton finished, “consider being our boyfriend?”

“You don’t have to,” Virgil immediately added. “If you don’t feel ready, or you want to try dating one of us at a time, that’s completely fine—”

Logan began to smile. “I—I think I can give it a shot. All of you. I want to engage in romantic relations with you. If—if that’s alright.”

Patton squealed, and Roman’s smile was wider than Logan had ever seen it. Virgil just squeezed Logan’s hand, and Logan squeezed back.

“Group hug time!” Patton proclaimed.

“Don’t we have to eat breakfast?” Logan asked.

“Oh!” Patton giggled. “Right! I’ll make us some pancakes. Then we can have some cuddles!”

“Perfect!” Roman proclaimed. “Maybe watch a Disney movie? We’ve got a lot of missed movie-nights to make up for!”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Only if we can watch The Nightmare Before Christmas. And only if Pat lets me supervise the pancakes.”

Patton frowned. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you,” Virgil said, “but Princey here would totally add like five containers of sugar or set the entire thing on fire when your back is turned.”

Roman gasped. “Rude! I’ll have you know that was one time, and the firefighters were very nice about it!”

“We can all help with the pancakes,” Patton compromised. “Lolo can read the instructions, ‘cause he’s good with books and Virge can help me mix ingredients.”

“What about me?” Roman asked.

Virgil smirked. “You can play your Disney songs and sneak bits of batter while pretending you’re helping.”

Roman opened his mouth, shrugged, and smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“Great!” Patton grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him over to the kitchen. “Let’s go!”

And Logan spent half the morning making pancakes, getting flour in his hair, Roman placing batter on his nose so Patton would kiss it off, Virgil sitting on the counter and refusing to get off. The pancakes turned out delicious, and after eating a very late breakfast—it’s brunch, Specs, how do you fail so hard at being gay—they curled up on the couch once more and started on their Disney marathons. It turned out that Roman and Virgil shared Logan’s proclivity for discussing the movie while watching it, but Roman geared more towards insults and Virgil just threw popcorn at all the sappy scenes. Patton remained quiet, toying with Logan’s hair and snuggled into Roman’s side, smiling at them like they were his favorite things in the world.

Logan Mackenzie didn’t understand his feelings, not completely. But he did know that he loved them. He knew that they loved him back. He knew that he had never felt happier than now, sitting on the couch with his boyfriends—boyfriends! They were his boyfriends! The novelty still hadn’t worn off.

He loved them, and he could figure the rest out another day, with a little help.

Logan loved them. For now, and forever, that was enough.

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