#please.... ignore my weird sappy descriptions ; ;

[averykedavra]

i keep to myself (i want to break through)

Uh, hi! It’s been a while. Again. But I’m here to deliver content before vanishing once more! To get back in the writing groove, I brushed off an older story, one I started right after FWSA. I wrote the first few pages, dropped it for months, and now I’ve cobbled together an angsty mess from the remains. Yay! This is also my first time writing c!Thomas’ perspective, so I hope it turned out alright!

(Title is from Prom Dress by mxmtoon. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Pairings: platonic Logicality and also Thomas

Words: 9937 (i swear this was meant to be short)

Warnings: crying, a detailed description of a panic attack, overthinking and spiraling, anxiety, self-deprecation and self-esteem issues, identity crisis, maybe a bit of disassociation

Thomas should have been excited.

All afternoon, he’d been thrilled. He’d barely remembered to eat dinner. He’d composed sappy tweets and sang Can You Feel the Love Tonight? until his neighbors told him to stop. He’d smiled so much that his face hurt, flapped his hands until they ached, and danced around in dizzy disbelief.

Nico. Nico, who was a poet and who was funny and who had the nicest smile and wanted to meet up again.

Thomas was overjoyed. Thomas was ecstatic. Thomas couldn’t believe this was real, but after pinching himself five times, he’d confirmed it wasn’t a dream.

Nico.

He had a date.

Thomas should be excited.

And he was, and then very abruptly, he wasn’t.

He’d felt it approaching even before dinner. He’d sang louder to drown it out. He’d grinned almost forcibly, dragging his thoughts back on track, thinking this is a good thing until he could almost ignore the creeping numb clouds in the back of his mind.

And his happiness soured. He ran out of energy. He collapsed on the couch, turning on the Parks and Rec bloopers before a voice told him to watch something educational. He turned on a nature channel instead. Swans mated for life. Wild.

Thomas was feeling, slowly, more and more terrible.

He should do something to stop it. He should call a friend, eat some good food, focus on the positives. He could feel himself inching closer to a cliff, and there was still time to turn back, there was still time--

He got up to microwave some pizza. Maybe eating would make him feel better. He’d exercised today. It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Why did he feel so weird? This had been a good day. Maybe one of his best. He’d gone to that mall directionless, and now someone wanted to date him, a lovely someone who made him feel itty bitty butterflies in his chest and sunshine in his heart.

Except for now. Now the butterflies felt soaked in ice, and the sunshine burned through him and made his eyes prickle.

The microwave hummed away and he bounced back and forth waiting for it. Just a minute until pizza, and then pizza and nature channels and a long evening, maybe video games and soda and a friend on the phone. He’d give himself a self-care night. He deserved it.

Thomas waited for the pizza.

The microwave coughed, scraped, and whirred its way along.

It was dark in the kitchen. He ran a hand along the counter. It was so cold and smooth that it felt like he was touching nothing at all. The moon hung low outside the window, accompanied by the ugly yellow glow of streetlights. He’d forgotten to turn on a light in the kitchen.

Thomas shuffled towards the light switch, decided not to bother, and grabbed a plastic plate for the pizza instead. It was one of the bad plates that could reasonably be a frisbee. A chip and dent combo on the edge nicked his fingers. He winced. Maybe he should get another plate.

Nah, why bother? This plate was fine.

The pizza should be done by now, right? It’d been five minutes. Had it?

The TV was playing in the background. Thomas had forgotten to turn it off. That’d waste electricity--why did he always forget stuff, stupid--

Thomas took a deep shuddering breath.

In and out. This was fine. No matter that he could feel tears clustering at the edge of his vision, no matter that his breath struggled in his chest like a living thing, no matter that the kitchen was dark and still and quiet and made him feel like he was drowning.

There was no reason to be upset.

He should be excited.

Ding!

Thomas almost cried in relief, throwing open the microwave. He grabbed the pizza and opened the box.

Frost clustered on the edge of the crust. It needed more time in the microwave. He’d done the wrong amount of minutes.

Of course he had.

Of course he had.

Thomas let the pizza fall, and a swell of tears rose up to meet him. He grabbed the plate and took it back to the couch, which accomplished nothing but he needed to do something, he couldn’t wait in that stupid kitchen for a second longer--

Thomas collapsed on the couch again, and tried to make himself very small in the corner, like his impending breakdown wouldn’t notice him if he hid.

He pressed a hand to his eyes.

“Come on,” he told himself, and his voice didn’t sound like his own. It wavered and was itchy and staticky, grating at his ears. “Come on, get it together, come on--”

His phone beeped.

Someone was texting him.

Oh, no. Now he had to open his eyes, get the phone, text them, be funny and nice when he texted them, help them if they needed help--too many things, and Thomas was frozen, because he’d meant to microwave the pizza, and the TV was still playing and casting shuddering light over his blanket, and the world was dark and there were too many things to do--

Panic.

He was panicking, wasn’t he?

Thomas took a deep breath. And realized he hadn’t done that for almost half a minute. The air was a relief, and he almost cried right then and there, sunk in one dark corner of the couch.

“Virgil,” he forced out. “Virgil, are you--”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t find the words. What would Virgil do, anyway? Virgil would just make this worse--that wasn’t nice--he couldn’t breathe--Virgil was clearly not okay, and--

And Thomas was going to cry, and there was no reason for that, and logically speaking he should be fine--

He was terrified.

Logically speaking, he was terrified, because logically speaking, he’d made a huge mistake.

Thomas choked on a sob. He sent out a summons--anyone, please, anyone, Logan or Patton or Virgil or De--Janus. Hell, he’d take Remus at this point, Remus could knock him out so he wouldn’t have to stay in this itchy dark room with a million things colliding and the TV still on and the pizza cold and the lights off and his phone probably blowing up with texts as everyone slowly started to hate him--

“Kiddo?”

Thomas jerked his head up and kicked wildly at the noise.

“Oh! Sorry,” Patton said, his voice soft. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Can you breathe for me, kiddo?”

Thomas took one deep breath.

“That’s great! I’m proud of you. Can you do it again?”

Another deep breath.

“Good job,” Patton said, and Thomas’ vision cleared enough to see tear tracks on his cheeks.

“You--” Thomas started. But he lost his sentence as soon as he found it.

“Shh, don’t try and talk just yet, okay?” Patton’s eyes were achingly sympathetic. “Can I touch you?”

Thomas thought about it. He nodded jerkily.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” Patton’s hand slipped into his, warm and soft, reminding Thomas oddly of his actual dad. “Keep breathing, kiddo. You’re doing amazing.”

A simple instruction. One thing. No other things, no other things around him and no past and no future and no friends or family or Nico. Just him. Just Patton. It was dark and still and Thomas had been told what to do.

Thomas kept breathing.

Patton smiled at him, and the snarled mass in Thomas’ chest lessened, bit by bit by bit. He tried not to think. He tried just to see, to see and hear and touch.

What was it Logan taught him?

Five things he could see.

The glow of the TV over the couch. The moon outside the pale window. The blanket over his legs. His hand in Patton’s. Patton’s face, streaked with tears and so incredibly soft.

Four things he could touch.

The couch. His blanket. His clothes. Patton’s hand.

Three things he could hear.

The murmur of the television--the channel had moved on to flamingos, apparently. The rustle of the blanket when he shifted. The hum of the fridge.

Two things he could smell.

That cold pizza. A vague smell of sweat which was probably him, thanks to all the running around from earlier.

One thing he could taste.

Dinner. Chicken pad thai.

Thomas closed his eyes, opened them, and found himself sitting on the couch, watching TV, with Patton holding his hand.

He was here.

He’d always been here.

“It’s okay,” Patton whispered, and Thomas realized he’d been talking this whole time, murmuring words of encouragement. “It’s okay, you’re doing amazing, just let it out.”

Thomas squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

Patton’s face lit up. “No biggie,” he said, “who would I be if I left you on your own?”

Reasonable, Thomas didn’t say. Normal.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “It means a lot.”

Patton gave him a long, unreadable look, before patting his hand and standing up. He looked around and clucked his tongue. “It’s so dark! Wait here, I’ll turn on the lights.”

“I can do it,” Thomas protested.

Patton didn’t roll his eyes, but he huffed a bit, and Thomas sank back into the couch with a sigh. Patton was right. Thomas’ limbs felt like jelly and if he tried to move, he’d probably fall right off the couch.

Patton milled about the room, turning on the kitchen light and the light by the stairway and the lamp behind the TV. When he saw the frozen pizza in the microwave, Thomas braced himself for a chiding. Patton was always critical of his cooking skills. Instead, Patton quietly closed the microwave and punched in several numbers. The microwave whirred to life.

Thomas looked down at the plate on the couch cushion. He picked it up and noticed his hands were shaking. “Do you--”

Patton glanced back. “I’m getting you some water, kiddo. Don’t worry, just get yourself cozy, okay?”

Thomas nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, buddy.”

“No need to thank me!” Patton sent Thomas a smile that was marred by the tear tracks on his cheek, the redness of his eyes, and--Thomas suddenly realized--the cat hoodie pulled tight around him. He couldn’t remember the last time Patton had worn the hoodie. It must have been when Logan had first given it to him. Right after--

“I’m a part of you,” Patton continued, his voice a softer version of his usual chipper one. “I want to help you, no matter what.”

Thomas leaned further into the couch and pressed on his eyes to stop the tears. Was he really so pathetic to cry over a part of himself wanting to help him? It was Patton’s job. It didn’t mean that Thomas was a good person, it didn’t mean anything, it just meant that his morality didn’t want him panicking in front of a documentary about flamingos.

“Here,” Patton said, and Thomas almost jumped. Patton had reappeared next to the couch. He handed Thomas a glass of water. Thomas tried not to drop it. When he took a sip, he realized his mouth was dry.

“You can sit down,” Thomas offered, after a few seconds of Patton silently standing nearby.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to--” The microwave dinged behind them, and Patton looked relieved. “Be back in a hop, skip, and a jump, kiddo!”

Thomas laughed a bit and continued drinking the water. Soon, Patton placed a warm plate of pizza on the couch next to Thomas. Thomas picked up a slice and caught the melting cheese with his tongue. It was perfectly cooked.

“Thanks,” Thomas said, for the third or fourth time. “This is great, Pat.”

“Aw, shucks, kiddo!” Patton looked proud of himself. “It’s just microwave pizza. And I think we know who’s the better cook--”

Thomas smiled and rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, spare me the lecture.”

For a second, Patton looked ashamed. Then he brushed off his shirt and looked around the room again. “Anything else I can get you, Thomas?”

Thomas inhaled the rest of the pizza slice before responding. Patton looked uncomfortable. Not like he didn’t want to be there--or at least, Thomas hoped not--but like he didn’t know what to do, now that the threat had subsided. Patton shifted from foot to foot, pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, and had been crying. He’d been upset. He’d helped Thomas anyway. Thomas had the feeling he wasn’t supposed to let this slide. That wasn’t what good people did.

Or maybe it was. Thomas wasn’t sure. He’d ask Patton, but Patton didn’t need another thing on his plate.

Thomas balanced the plate of pizza in one hand and let his tired, impulsive brain take over. “Sit with me?”

Patton looked surprised for a second, then strangely hesitant. “That’s what you want?”

“Of course.” Thomas nodded to the couch cushion next to him. “It wouldn’t be a party without my good old pop star, would it?”

“Yeah.” Patton nodded rapidly, as if trying to convince himself, and then sat tentatively on the couch. He balanced on the edge of it. Like he wanted a quick escape.

“You don’t have to,” Thomas said weakly, doubling back, like he always did. “You--you don’t have to do any of this, if it’s just to be nice.”

Patton smiled a bit. “Just to be nice? What’s just about that?”

“You don’t--” Thomas swallowed and tried to sort through the emotions in his chest. He still felt seconds from crying. Was that Patton’s influence? Virgil’s? Or should Thomas stop blaming his own failures on everyone else? “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Pat. You don’t have to--go out of your way to help someone, not if it makes you feel bad.”

“But you aren’t someone,” Patton said. “You’re Thomas. You’re my Thomas, and I’m your good old dad.”

Thomas opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know how to explain that Patton wasn’t obligated to be nice to him. He didn’t know how to say that he wasn’t the priority. He didn’t need to be. He could survive with parts of himself hating him--he was pretty sure a few already did.

“I’m your Morality,” Patton said quietly. “And--I know, I know I’ve messed up, I’ve messed things up so much--but please. This is what I can still do for you. This is what I know isn’t--isn’t hurting you.” Patton paused, and Thomas could hear that he was approaching tears, too. “Please let me help you. Please let me have this.”

Thomas bit off the end of a slice of pizza. Then he shoved the plate towards Patton. Patton looked down, took a slice, and nibbled at it. For a while, there was silence.

“Was it you?” Thomas finally asked, hating himself for it. “Did you get--upset? Is that why I--or was it Virgil?”

Patton sighed. “That’s a complicated question, kiddo.”

Thomas decided not to push it. If Patton wanted to talk, he would.

“We’re all parts of you,” Patton finally said. His voice was shaky, but kind, reminding Thomas of kindergarten teachers talking him through his ABCs. His teachers were lovely to him. But Thomas was only their student, and it was only their job. “We all affect what you do, in different degrees, but we also affect each other. We discuss, we collaborate, we--argue. If you combined all of us into one being, it would be you in a way, but it wouldn’t have the same interactions inside? Does that make sense?” Patton groaned. “Ugh, Logan’s such a better teacher.”

“I think I get it,” Thomas said, looking down at the pizza. “The whole is more than the sum of its parts?”

“Yeah!” Patton nodded. “We all work off each other, even when we don’t realize it. So--anything you go through, it’s not because of one of us. Maybe it started from a single side, but nothing’s isolated. Everything goes through all of us.”

“So...you all got upset?” Thomas asked. “Or was it mainly someone, or--”

“It’s complicated.” Patton swallowed. “Janus didn’t have a hand in it, I don’t think, despite all the ones he has. Roman is very excited about Nico, as is Remus, and I doubt they contributed too much.”

Thomas thought about Roman’s face as he watched Nico leave. Another chance at happiness squandered. “I’m not sure about that.”

Patton sunk into himself a bit. “Virgil--he probably added to the attack when it happened, but he didn’t cause it. He’s too happy about Nico.”

“So…” Thomas let the word hang in the air for a while. “Pat--”

“I’m fine,” Patton said.

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“I am!” Patton protested. His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. He didn’t seem to be even trying to hide it. “It--it wasn’t just me, it was--”

“You’re my emotions,” Thomas said. “If it wasn’t Virgil, it--”

“It’s more complicated than that.” True as that might be, Patton’s thin voice said otherwise. “I wouldn’t have done that. Everything’s fine. I know everything’s fine. I wouldn’t have made a fuss over nothing!”

Thomas tried to read between the lines. It was easy. Patton, in the end, was just a piece of Thomas--just a volatile, searing mass of emotions in his chest. “But if someone told you things weren’t fine--”

Patton didn’t say anything.

“Or someone…” Thomas swallowed. “Someone tried to convince you that things were.”

“Like I said,” Patton whispered. “It’s complicated.”

Thomas tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. He could barely make it out in the darkness, save for the small pools of light from the lamps around the room. Was that a crack? Maybe so. He didn’t really know anything about ceilings, so he’d have to ask someone else.

“What do we want to do?” Thomas asked the ceiling, and Patton, and everyone else who had decided this was a mess they didn’t want to touch.

“I don’t know,” Patton said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas tried to think of what they should do. “I’m asking you. What should we be doing?”

“That’s a different question,” Patton pointed out. “And you really shouldn’t ask me for advice.”

Thomas covered his eyes with his hand. “I just want to know what to do next, Patton!”

“Why do we have to do anything?” Patton asked bracingly. “Relax. Watch TV. Get some sleep. You had a rough night, kiddo.”

“So did you!” Thomas snapped. “Why is everything always about me?”

A few beats of silence, just enough for Thomas to decide he was a terrible person and should dig a hole to hide in. Patton shifted, and Thomas saw he was running his hands across the hoodie again. Did it make him feel better to wear it? Did it remind him of Logan?

“Janus says it’s okay for stuff to be about you,” Patton said, sounding woefully unconvincing. “He says it’s fine for you to focus on yourself.”

“Janus also said you didn’t exist,” Thomas fired back. “He’s not my go-to person for trustworthy advice.”

The moment the words left his lips, Thomas regretted them.

“Janus is trying,” Patton said, a bit more convincingly. “And you shouldn’t--”

“I know!” Thomas tried to hold back his tears again. “I know I shouldn’t. There’s a million things I shouldn’t do, not least that I shouldn’t be upset right now.”

Patton sucked in a breath. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“Don’t you hate lying?”

“It’s okay,” Patton said, and he sounded so much like a kicked puppy that Thomas somehow managed to feel even worse. “It--it is, Janus says so, and Virgil, and Lo-Logan--”

“And they’re right,” said Thomas wearily. “They’re right.”

“But you said--”

“Don’t listen to me,” Thomas said. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Patton was quiet again. Thomas wondered what it would take to get Patton to leave. He could probably ask and Patton would go. He could just ask. Patton never argued.

Thomas didn’t want Patton to leave. But he didn’t want to pretend that things were alright. And he didn’t want to make Patton feel bad, he didn’t want to feel bad--he knew a million things he didn’t want, a million things he shouldn’t want, and he couldn’t find a single thing that he did.

“We should talk about it,” Thomas said. “About what happened tonight, and--about everything, you know?”

“We should,” Patton agreed. He sounded miserable but resigned. “We can’t put it off.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Thomas made up for his lack of confidence with a confident wave of his pizza slice. “We need to talk this out. We don’t want it happening again.”

Patton nodded.

“So...what happened?”

Patton immediately stopped nodding.

“You said someone upset you,” Thomas continued. “Well, you didn’t say, but...someone did, right?”

“He didn’t mean to.” Patton’s voice was almost desperate. “He tried to help--and he’s right, there wasn’t any reason to be upset, I just overreacted--”

“Who?” Thomas asked.

Patton worried his lip between his teeth and said nothing.

Thomas looked at the TV, playing the nature channel, because he wanted to calm himself down, because it didn’t make sense to be upset.

“Oh.” Thomas almost winced. “Logan said something, didn’t he?”

Patton’s silence said enough.

“Of course,” Thomas said, trying to sound less bitter than he felt. “Of course he said something.”

“He can’t help it,” Patton said weakly. “He doesn’t get this stuff. Not really.”

“He does more than he lets himself.”

“He doesn’t want to get this stuff.” Patton sighed. “And like I said, he didn’t mean it, and he did try to calm me down--”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “By saying you shouldn’t even be upset?”

“I think he might have panicked a bit.” Patton giggled sheepishly. “I was crying and he didn’t really expect that.”

“Yeah.” Thomas didn’t even feel surprised. Logan was the smartest dude he knew, but he could be really stupid sometimes. “Have you talked it through with him?”

“No.” Patton poked at the remaining slices of pizza but didn’t pick one up. “I got really upset, and maybe I’d been upset for a while, and this was just what set it off, I guess? And then he got upset but he wouldn’t admit it, and then I felt you start panicking, so I had to go help you.”

Thomas frowned. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I wanted to.”

Thomas let out a long breath. “Okay.”

“We’ll talk it through later,” Patton said. “Sometimes the kiddos need time.”

Thomas opened his mouth to snap about the amount of time they spent just waiting for someone to say something. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again, and the words that came out weren’t what he expected. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton blinked. “I--no, I don’t think so. He’s…”

Thomas motioned for Patton to continue.

“He was a bit annoyed when he found out about Nico,” Patton finished, seeming almost apologetic. Like Patton had a responsibility to keep anyone else from being upset. “I don’t think he really liked the idea of a--boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.

“He’ll come around,” Patton quickly added. “He just needs time to adjust.”

“You keep saying that.” Thomas curled further into the couch and picked at a pizza crust. “If giving you all more time means this is going to keep happening, I’m not really sold.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said quietly. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not what I--” Thomas groaned and tossed the crust onto the plate. “This is a huge mess, and honestly, I can’t see how this could possibly get worse. I feel like crap. A whole stick of crap, inside and out. And if finding out Logan’s deal will make me feel a bit less like crying, I’d rather get that over with.”

Patton watched him closely. The TV lights flashed off his glasses. “That makes sense. But I’m not sure if he wants that, kiddo.”

“Who cares what Logan wants?” Thomas was probably being a bit uncharitable, but he was too tired and emotional to care. “You said it yourself, he’s a part of me, he’s supposed to help. I’m not gonna have my logic griping about Nico all night, okay? I’m already stressed enough.”

“Yeah, well, he’s kind of the reason you’re stressed,” Patton argued, “which I just realized proves your point. Okay. If he wants, he can talk to you.”

“Thank you.” Finally, a side that actually listened to Thomas occasionally. “Logan?”

The house was silent.

“He might be asleep,” Patton said. “He’s very rigid in his sleep schedule.”

“Is that why I don’t have coherent thoughts past ten pm?”

Patton nodded. “Also, sleep deprivation.”

“It’s not that bad, I’m not up that late.” Thomas sighed. “Logan? Logan, are you gonna come out and talk, or will we just sit on the couch all night with no closure?”

“You don’t have to,” Patton added unhelpfully. Thomas glared at him. “What? He doesn’t!”

“Fine, fine, he doesn’t have to,” Thomas complained. “He can feel free to make you and me upset and then leave us hanging, without an explanation of why he doesn’t like Nico--I mean, how could anyone not like Nico?”

“I don’t think it’s about Nico specifically,” Patton said, as if that was supposed to explain things. “And if he’s not going to talk, we can’t push him.”

Thomas groaned and looked for a blanket to hide in. What was the point of having imaginary aspects of his personality, if he couldn’t actually talk to them when he wanted to? What was the problem--there was no logical reason to be upset, but Logan had made Patton upset, it didn’t make any sense--

“Logan?” Thomas called once more, feeling stupid to be yelling at an empty living room. “We could really use you, buddy.”

When there was no answer, Thomas sighed and sank back into the couch. He glanced over at Patton, who was pointedly watching the TV instead of Thomas--the nature channel was now talking about parakeets--and then the shadows seemed to shift at the other end of the couch.

“Um,” Thomas said, unable to see what exactly had happened.

Patton looked where Thomas was looking, made a soft oh noise, and turned on another light.

“What do you want?” Logan asked.

With the addition of the light, Thomas could vaguely make him out, but he was even more shadowy than Patton. His knees were tucked to his chest and a blanket covered him. He looked like he’d fallen asleep on the couch, just gotten shaken awake, and was irritated about it. His hair was mussed in the back.

“We wanted to talk,” Thomas said, when it became clear that Patton was just going to sit awkwardly between them and not say anything.

“About what?” Logan’s voice was quiet and a bit rough. Maybe from sleep, maybe from yelling, maybe from crying. “Be more specific, Thomas.”

“Logan,” Patton said, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

Patton didn’t respond. Thomas was already regretting this. Should they really try to talk things out while tired, grumpy, and piled on the couch watching nature documentaries?

“It wasn’t my fault what happened,” Logan said defensively, as if Thomas had interrogated him. “I simply pointed out logical facts, I don’t control anyone’s emotional reaction--”

Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea, if it was already going this far south. “Hey,” Thomas said before Logan could dig that hole deeper. “Calm down. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”

“Do you want me to apologize?” Logan asked.

Thomas blinked at the question. “Uh--do you want to?”

Logan made a noncommittal noise.

“Well, if you don’t have anything against it, I think you probably should.” Thomas motioned to Patton, who squeaked at being included. “You made him really upset, and I know you didn’t mean to, but that warrants an apology.”

“Hm.” Logan adjusted his glasses and sighed. “As you say. Patton, I--I said something that I didn’t realize was upsetting. Because it was a fact that you should be considering, but I am still responsible for my actions alone. So...I apologize.”

“Aw, Lo, I forgive you!” Patton seemed to brighten right away. “It’s okay, really! I know you didn’t mean it!”

“What did he say?” Thomas asked. “What’d you say, Logan?”

They both went very quiet.

“C’mon, do I have to try random bits of my internal monologue to see what it was?” Thomas sighed. “Look, whatever it was, I want to see what I can do to help you out. If you’re upset--”

“I’m not upset--”

“I want to help.” Thomas looked across the couch to Logan. “Let me help, okay?”

Logan sighed in annoyance and defeat.

“You don’t like Nico,” Thomas prompted, as Patton hopped up and went to the kitchen. Thomas didn’t know what Patton was supposed to be doing, since he was just opening and closing the fridge, but he decided to let the guy have his escape route. “Why don’t you like Nico?”

“I don’t like anyone,” Logan said. “That’s not my area of expertise.”

“So you don’t like Nico?”

“I don’t have an opinion on him.”

“Clearly you do,” Thomas said, biting back his defense of Nico. He could argue about how amazing and incredible Nico was, or he could get to the bottom of this without panicking again. “I just want to hear what you have to say, Logan.”

Logan blinked. Thomas wondered, briefly and guiltily, when he’d last said that.

“Nico is fine,” Logan said firmly. “He’s--fine.”

“I figured you’d like him,” Thomas said. He didn’t know what he was trying to do--convince Logan? Convince himself? “He’s--he’s a poet. You like poetry, right?”

There was a long pause. “Poetry is an effective way to convey ideas through a rhythmic and minimal structure.”

Thomas didn’t know how to take that. “Nico’s a good poet.”

Logan let out a breath and curled into his blanket. When Thomas looked closely, he thought he saw purple on it. Had it been a gift from Virgil? Why did that make him feel so crappy?

“You like Nico,” Logan said. He somehow managed to phrase it as a question.

“Yeah,” Thomas said.

“You’ve known him for a day.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t like him!” Thomas said. “Love at first sight, Logan. Believe in it.”

Logan stared at him with disappointment. “No.”

“Fine, not love.” Thomas slumped. “But he’s so cute! And sweet! And smart, and funny, and--”

“I know.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Ugh.”

“I get it, you’re heartless, you don’t believe in love.” Thomas sighed. “I--I just thought you could be--happy for me?”

Logan opened his mouth and closed it. Behind them, Patton bustled around, and Thomas longed for him to return. He couldn’t do this on his own. He couldn’t handle this kind of emotional stuff, which made him sound like Logan.

“I am happy for you,” Logan said quietly. “Er--figuratively. I don’t have feelings. Still...I am--pleased. That you have found someone you feel compatible with. Human connection is important for people.”

Thomas smiled a bit, despite himself.

“And,” Logan added very quickly, “it’s doubtful that the relationship will last so it’s really pointless to object to such a quick fling--”

Patton made a wounded noise from the kitchen. Logan immediately stopped talking.

“Pointless?” Thomas repeated.

Logan pointedly began staring at the floor.

Thomas couldn’t keep the hurt from slipping into his voice. “Is that really what you think?”

“I--” Logan swallowed. “I don’t mean any harm by it, but--”

“Just--” Thomas braced himself. “Say what’s on your mind.”

Logan was silent for several moments. Thomas didn’t say anything. He shoved his hurt feelings as far down as he could, because this wasn’t about him right now. Logan was upset.

And--if Logan was upset about Nico, if Logic didn’t approve--

Thomas didn’t really want to think about that.

“It’s an outdated statistic,” Logan said, “that half of all marriages end in divorce.” He spoke slowly, quietly, way too quietly, and Thomas knew that he’d been the one to lessen Logan’s voice. Spare you my company. “However, the odds remain that relationships you pursue are--unlikely to come to fruition. Either you talk until marriage and/or copulation, living the rest of your lives together, or you separate.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s pointless,” Thomas said. “What, is life pointless because we die in the end?”

Logan paused for a second. “I don’t think so. Unless--”

“No, no, no existential crises tonight, I’m already having a breakdown.” Thomas waved his hands. “We’re gonna assume that my life does have value, okay? And we’re gonna assume that even if Nico and I--break up, which is unlikely--”

“Unlikely,” Logan repeated.

“It is unlikely,” Thomas said, deciding to dig his hole deeper. “He’s so cute!”

“You’re in the infatuation phase,” Logan said, almost pityingly. “You can’t possibly predict anything right now--”

“We get along,” Thomas said. “We barely argued! We have similar interests, he loves Paramore and Disney movies and cartoons--he thinks it’s cool that I sing, and he’s supportive of my career, and--”

“You’ve known him for one day.”

“He’s perfect!” Thomas paused. “Not--not perfect, he can’t be perfect, but he’s--really close! He doesn’t have any flaws, not that I know of.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Logan sighed. “Thomas, I understand that you are filled with emotions about this subject, but as your Logic it’s my duty to rain a bit on your figurative parade. You don’t know this man. You have met him only once, and you know him on nothing more than a superficial level.”

“He’s not a murderer!” Thomas said. “I can tell when someone’s a good person--”

“One, can you?” Logan asked. “Your judgments on morality are often--”

“Flawed,” Patton agreed from the kitchen. Both of them turned to look at him. “I’m not the best at this, kiddo. Nico seems like a good guy, but--” He leaned onto the counter. “I just don’t know.”

Thomas swallowed. He hadn’t expected Patton to take Logan’s side. “Virgil would--”

“Virgil is infatuated, just like you are.” Logan sighed. “I’m not saying Nico is secretly evil. I’m saying you might not be as compatible as you feel you are.”

“We--” Thomas could think of a million answers. But--did he trust himself to know? Did he trust himself to be in the right?

“What if he’s still working through a breakup, and you’re a rebound?” Logan suggested. “What if he doesn’t have a stable career, and has to rely on you? What if you have different financial priorities, or priorities for intimacy? What if you need to change your own career in order to be with him? What if your love languages don’t intersect, or one of you cheats--”

“I wouldn’t cheat!” Thomas protested.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Logan argued back without missing a beat. “You’re two adults. You have a million small, intricate parts of yourself and your life that you’ll need to fit together. It’s impossible for every aspect of your relationship to be perfect, and it’s unreasonable to expect that a man you met one day ago will be the man of your dreams.”

“We’ll communicate!” Thomas said. “We’ll--I want this, Logan. Are you telling me I can’t try?”

“I’m saying you need to consider every option, before you barrel into a situation you can’t control.” Logan spread his hands. “What if he hurts you? What if you hurt him? What if you aren’t ready for this, and by dragging him into a relationship, you’re only making the situation worse?”

Thomas tried to laugh and ignore the sting in his eyes. “Isn’t it Virgil’s job to overthink?”

Logan leaned back into the couch again. “I’m not trying to overthink. I’m trying to raise logical points.”

“Are you?” Thomas asked. “Dude, like you said, it’s been a day. I can’t control all these things that will happen in the future! I don’t need to worry about whether we’ll move in together, right?”

“Right,” Logan said reluctantly.

“Is...that what you said to Patton?” Thomas murmured. “Did you tell him--”

“That it wouldn’t work out.” Patton’s voice wavered. He was staring out the kitchen window into the dark backyard. “That we needed to--think this through. And, maybe...not go on the date.”

“Not--” Thomas looked between Patton, whose knuckles were white on the counter, to Logan, who looked ashamed. “Not go on the date?”

“If we go on the date, we’re agreeing to try this.” Logan sounded like he regretted each word that came out of his mouth. “If we go on the date, this is confirmed. He’s our boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” Thomas couldn’t help the way anxiety pitched his voice. “That’s the point?”

“Are we ready for that?”

Both Logan and Patton had spoken at once. Thomas felt like he’d been punched.

“You...you don’t think I’m ready,” Thomas said dully. “Do you.”

“I want to.” That was Patton, finally joining them again, sitting next to the TV and pulling his knees to his chest. “I really want to, kiddo. Nico is so nice, and sweet, and good--”

Something sour rose in Thomas’ mouth. “And--”

“And Logan has a point.” Patton rubbed circles into his pajama pants. “I’m not sure if we are ready for this.”

Thomas sighed and curled into his own little ball on the other end of the couch. Look at him, nearly crying with several aspects of his personality, way too late at night, as the TV told him about chameleons. Chameleons could disappear into trees with a change of their colors. Thomas wished he could do the same into the couch. Or on his date with Nico--he could change into exactly who the relationship would need him to be.

That was what relationships were about, right? Compromise?

Maybe people who cried over chameleons really weren’t relationship material.

“Why weren’t you there at the mall?” Thomas asked Patton, after a few minutes of silence. “I’d have figured that you’d want to help, being the heart and all.”

“Roman...seemed like he needed some time,” Patton said. “Without me.”

Thomas nodded.

“And, well, I was there, in a way! The whole time!” Patton shrugged. “You spoke from the heart, right? That was me!”

Thomas paused. “‘I don’t know when I’m going to know what I want again?’”

Patton looked down. “That was me.”

“I know what I want.” Thomas wondered if he could convince himself by saying it. That sounded like lying. But lying was good now, right? Or not? Maybe? Maybe he could summon Janus if he lied enough, and Janus could handle all of this. “I want to give Nico a try.”

“Roman does,” Logan said. “And Virgil does. And I don’t, and I don’t think Janus has an opinion--”

“He’s neutral,” Patton agreed. “And I’m--in the middle.”

“So only half of me wants to give Nico a try,” Thomas said. “Wonderful. It’d be really cool if, one day, my entire self decided to agree on something.”

Logan made an affirmative noise. Patton sighed.

“We didn’t have this much of a debate with my last boyfriend, did we?” Thomas blurted out. “We just went for it. And that turned out--”

“How did it turn out?” Logan asked, with a touch of something in his voice. Maybe it was anger. What was Logan angry about? “Tell me how it turned out.”

Thomas opened his mouth and the words stuck in his throat.

“We broke up,” Patton whispered, pulling at the sleeves of his cardigan. He looked uncomfortable sitting on the floor, but Thomas didn’t know how to invite him back to the sofa without forcing him into it. “We broke up with him, and it hurt.”

Thomas gave Patton a soft look. Patton didn’t seem to notice.

“It hurt, and it sucked,” Patton continued, the words coming faster and faster. “It was no fun. And I have all these good memories of him, of course I do, but--but it’s not the same, if they’re all tainted by the fact that he left. Was that--was that worth it? Good memories and a bad ending?”

The TV hummed. Logan mouthed along to the narration. An elephant was getting separated from its herd. It tried to follow the footprints of its mother, but it was going in the wrong direction, heading farther and farther into the desert.

“We don’t know that it’ll go the same way,” Thomas said weakly. “This is all speculation.”

“Fine, then, I’ll work from real data.” Logan gave Patton a look, but Patton didn’t stop him. “Thomas, you have just learned that you possess “dark sides” of your personality, that you don’t understand yourself and are doubtful of your career path, and that you’re not as much of a “good person” as you think you are. You suffer from anxiety and self-esteem issues, you have a tendency to catastrophize, and you have intrusive thoughts.”

Thomas raised a hand to object. Logan waved his hand back down.

“None of this means you are incapable of a healthy and fulfilling relationship,” Logan continued. “It certainly doesn’t mean you are ‘unlovable.’ However, it’s important to note that you are not in a good mental state right now. A relationship doesn’t fix that. Instead, it can lead to more issues.”

“My mental state is fine,” Thomas said. He didn’t even know why he bothered to say that.

Logan waved a hand at the living room, and the half-eaten pizza on the couch, and Patton sitting next to the TV as a voice droned on about wolf packs.

“It’s a trash bin,” Patton murmured. “And the waste keeps piling and piling up, until it inevitably--spills out into the rest of their life.” He looked up, his eyes sparkling with tears. “If--when that happens--do we want Nico to be a part of our life? Do we want to--”

“Ruin things for him,” Thomas finished. He felt resigned, worn out. Like this was the only way the conversation could have ended. “Because he’s--he’s so nice, and sweet, and--and good. And I’m...not.”

Patton muffled a sob.

“And I thought, maybe, he could turn things around.” Thomas rubbed at his arm. “I thought this could be the moment I got my life back on track. But--what if the train’s still barrelling down on us? Do I want to sacrifice his happiness for mine? Is that fair to him?”

Logan glanced between Thomas and Patton.

“Does he deserve me?” Thomas almost whispered. “Do I deserve him?”

The TV switched to an episode about seahorses. Abruptly, Logan grabbed the remote and turned it off. The sudden silence made Thomas itch. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and tried to take deep breaths, tried not to panic. Was he panicking? He couldn’t tell. He felt crappy, he felt unmoored, he felt like he was asleep and wide awake and floating somewhere outside his body. He was just another Side of himself, another small voice in his head, not a real person at all. Maybe he should go to bed. He’d see things clearly when he woke up.

Maybe not. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he could barely remember how things were supposed to feel. He was wrong a lot. He was always wrong. How did he know what was right? How could he count on a single thing? He didn’t even know what he wanted. He didn’t even know who he was.

He couldn’t keep himself safe. He couldn’t follow his dreams. He couldn’t do the right thing. He couldn’t lie.

And he didn’t know anything.

And he was about to throw himself into a situation where he knew even less.

Was that the right thing to do?

Was that really what he wanted?

“Thomas,” Logan said. “You’re spiraling.”

“You’re the one making me spiral!” Thomas blurted out. When he looked at Logan, his vision was blurry. “We’re all spiraling, so stop pretending you’re above us! Stop giving us your oh-so-logical criticism and getting annoyed when it makes people upset!”

Logan huffed. “Well, why am I here if you don’t want to listen to me?”

“Stop!” Patton yelled. “Stop, both of you! Stop talking! If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all!”

Logan folded his arms. Thomas pressed his eyes shut until he could see sparks behind them. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.

Ask for--help? Ask for help. He wasn’t good at this.

“What…” Thomas’ voice trailed off. He steeled himself and tried again. “What do I do?”

“Right now?” Logan asked. “Or--”

“With--Nico.” Thomas let the words hang in the air. “What do I do now?”

Patton shifted next to the TV. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m asking you guys!” Thomas opened his eyes and looked around frantically. “I’m asking for you guys to help!”

“We’re parts of you.” Logan still blended into the couch. He didn’t move much, Thomas realized, when he didn’t want to. Did he breathe? Did he need to breathe before he talked, or did he just start talking abruptly, without the need to pause? “We don’t have any answers that you don’t have.”

“And--” Patton worried his bottom lip. “Thomas, you’re the best of us. You’re all of us together. You have the final say on anything, and you always will.”

“But I don’t know what to do!” Thomas burst out. “I don’t know what to say! I don’t--I have to drag you into every little dilemma because I don’t know how to figure things out on my own! And it’s stupid, and it’s selfish, and I can’t rely on you to solve all my problems, but--but I know you guys. I know who you are. What you want. I...I don’t know myself, guys, I really don’t.”

Logan made a sudden movement, and Thomas deliriously thought Logan was trying to reach for his hand. As quick as he started, though, Logan froze again, and pulled himself further away.

“I don’t know what I want,” Thomas said, the darkness spinning around him. “I don’t know who I want to be. I don’t know what’s good or what’s bad or what’s not--and I’ve got a cute boy who wants to take me out on a date, and I’m sitting here crying because--because--because I’m scared.”

Patton sucked in a breath.

“I’m scared,” Thomas realized. “I’m scared, aren’t I?”

“Elaborate upon those feelings,” Logan encouraged. “Why are you scared?”

“I--I’m scared--” Thomas stared at his hands. He’d shaken hands with Nico, and he’d wished he didn’t have to let go. “I’m scared of change. That’s always it, you know?” He laughed a bit. “I’m scared of--new possibilities. I know I have to take risks to dream big, but sometimes the risks seem outweigh the rewards. Sometimes it feels easier to avoid luxuries. Sometimes it’s--scary, to confront something I don’t know.”

Logan tugged his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“I’m excited,” Thomas said. “I should be excited, but I’m terrified, because there are so many chances for me to mess this up. I’ve already got so much on my plate. Do I really want to drag someone else into this? Do I really want to--watch him walk away?”

Patton looked up.

“Yeah, maybe I’m not as selfless as I thought.” Thomas laughed again. It sounded more like a sob. “Maybe I just don’t want to get something and lose it again. Maybe I’m tired of wanting things, if I never get what I want.”

“You’re allowed to want things,” Patton said softly.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No,” Patton admitted. “But I want to believe it. I really, really do.”

“And that’s the first step,” Logan said. “Isn’t it? Patton thinking that Thomas should be more selfless doesn’t erase the fact that he chose to say otherwise. Thoughts don’t equal actions. You can feel doubts about this, but that doesn’t have to affect the way you proceed.”

“Doesn’t it?” Thomas waved a hand at the ceiling. “It feels like I’m just strung along by my thoughts willy-nilly. You guys argue, and I get shoved around the food court and into the trash can.”

“Barring that--unorthodox example, I see your point.” Logan adjusted his glasses. The chance to explain something seemed to cheer him up a bit. “It is hard to separate thoughts from actions. However, it can be done. Think of it this way. When we convene to help you with an issue, we represent your thoughts. We give you different opinions based on our own goals, perspectives, and priorities.”

“And it’s loud,” Thomas said.

“And it’s loud,” Logan agreed. “It’s also a process. You listen to your thoughts, debate with them, and come to a conclusion. Yes, you can be influenced heavily by your thoughts, but the one who controls your actions is you.”

“That’s what makes you special,” Patton said, sounding like he was finally understanding. “We’re imaginary. We can’t affect the real world. But you can.”

“You make your own choices,” Logan said. “That’s what makes you your own person.”

Thomas swallowed. “Motivational speech, huh? What happened to ‘Nico is a terrible idea’?”

Logan winced. “I...still do think that, unfortunately.”

“Logan,” Patton said in a warning tone.

“But! But.” Logan sighed. “What you said about not knowing--about fearing the unknown--a lot of that is me.”

Thomas’ eyes widened.

“I’m the part of you that doesn’t want to take risks. I’m the part of you that wants to--to play it safe, because we only get one life.” Logan waved a hand. “If Virgil is the alarm clock that keeps you on your toes, I’m the person who sets the alarm clock. That means I don’t always understand the risks that you take, or the things that you do, and sometimes that’s...isolating. It feels--it seems like I’m unable to connect with you.”

“You do alright, Logan.” Thomas shook his head. “Better than alright. You keep my head on my shoulders, and I can always count on you. You’re better at this than you think.”

“I hope so,” Logan said.

“I know so.” Patton’s voice was firm. “You’re a great kiddo. You always make me feel better--well, not always, but you’re trying! You’re working on it!”

“Thank you,” Logan said, and sounded like he meant it. Patton smiled back.

“So what are you saying?” Thomas prompted.

“That...this is an area that I do not understand.” Logan twisted his fingers together. “Perhaps I felt--powerless, when you began to put such stock in your emotions. I could not help but focus on the negatives of the situation, in order to figuratively shove logic back into the conversation. But--there are conversations I’m not meant to be a part of.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Thomas said. “You just said you focused on the negatives--and you did raise some good points, ones I’m gonna have to think about! But if you focus on the positives, well, you could still contribute some interesting things. Right?”

Logan’s gaze flickered over to Thomas. Thomas gave him a smile.

“You are thirty-one years old,” Logan said. “The average lifespan of a male in the United States is about seventy-five years.”

“Great, way to give me a mid-life crisis,” Thomas teased.

“I’m attempting to say that you have time.” Logan spread his hands. “You have been away from college for less than ten years. Your personal identity is still changing, and there is still time for it to change.”

Was there?

“Yes,” Logan argued, looking more and more determined. “You don’t know everything this instant. However, nobody else does, either. What would be the point of scientific discovery if everyone knew the answers before they asked the questions? Life is about evolution. You have time to learn more about yourself.”

“But I’ve wasted so much time!” Thomas protested, and he almost felt like Logan, like Thomas was echoing everything Logan had ever told him. “I need to figure some stuff out, I can’t just stumble blindly through my life--”

“Except you haven’t,” Logan said. “What have you done with your life? You graduated college with a degree. You wanted to be a comedian, an internet personality, and you managed that. You wanted to be an actor, and you managed that. You’ve written a musical, you’ve befriended many talented people, you’ve discovered that you’re gay. I would hardly call that ‘stumbling blindly.’ You’re simply doing your best with the resources provided to you.”

Thomas let out a breath. “And your point is?”

“My point is that you don’t have much to lose,” Logan said. “This seems like an immediate dilemma in the moment. However, you don’t need to think through every possible option.” Logan squared his shoulders. “I don’t know what you should do. Neither do you. That’s--okay.”

Thomas found himself beginning to smile.

“That is okay, right?” Logan immediately looked at Patton. “I’m not completely off the mark, am I?”

“You did good,” Patton said.

Logan let out a breath.

“And you’re right.” Patton laughed. “Again! You’re right, again.” His face fell. “I--I don’t know what I want right now. But there’s time to figure that out. It’s not the end of anything, and you have a lot of choices to make. A lot of...chances.”

“A lot of choices,” Thomas echoed. “I guess it was kind of silly to think of it as ‘break up immediately or stay together forever.’ I’ve only known Nico for a day!”

Logan nodded. “In the future, you can make whatever choice works for you.”

“And we’ll be with you, kiddo.” Patton smiled. “Every step of the way.”

Thomas let out a long breath and the darkness settled around him. He was in his living room. He knew this house like the back of his hand. He was fine, he was safe, and it would be morning eventually.

“Thanks,” Thomas said, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, guys. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome,” Logan said. “It’s our job.”

“And our pleasure,” Patton corrected. “We’re happy to help.”

“I am not happy.” Logan paused and reluctantly inclined his head. “Still, Patton is correct. I--find it enjoyable when I can assist.”

“You both did great.” Thomas laughed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up with all this, I really shouldn’t have overthought it as much as I did.”

“We caused the overthinking,” Logan pointed out.

“We did,” Patton admitted. He shifted a bit and looked up, wiping his eyes. “I--I’m scared too, Thomas. I don’t want to...end up heartbroken again.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said.

“But I think it might be worth it.” Patton balled his hands. “Those memories might hurt to look back on now, but they were nice while they happened, and they made us feel happy! The bad parts don’t necessarily erase the good parts. Nico is a good thing. A relationship with Nico, however it ends up, could be a good thing. You’re allowed--” Patton swallowed. “You’re allowed to want to be happy.”

Thomas fought back tears. “And--if it doesn’t work out?”

“We’ll live,” Patton said simply. “We did before, and we will again.”

“Okay.” Thomas’ voice came out like a croak, and he covered his face. “Okay, fine, just--just give me a second. Turns out I really needed to hear that.”

A warm hand hesitantly touched his shoulder. Thomas peeked between his hands to see Logan awkwardly patting his shoulder. Thomas gave him a watery smile.

“We can do this,” Patton said, sounding close to crying himself. “We’re allowed to want. It--it was never that we didn’t know, it was that we didn’t let ourselves, wasn’t it?”

“I want so much,” Thomas forced out. “I want to go on a date with Nico, I want my Sides to get along, I want to be famous and I want to be good and I want to know what I’m doing and I want--”

“It’s okay,” Logan said, barely above a whisper. “Breathe.”

Thomas breathed. In and out. In and out. He knew he could breathe. He had lungs and a heart and blood pumping through his veins and tears on his eyelashes. He knew that. He didn’t know who he was, but he knew pieces of himself, he knew his logic and his feelings and his dreams. He knew where he was and where he’d been. And he could figure things out from there.

“It’s okay,” Logan said again. “You will be okay.”

He would be okay.

No matter what, they would find a way to be okay.

Thomas wiped his eyes, uncurled his legs, and motioned for Patton to join them on the couch. Patton stood up and slipped between Logan and Thomas, making Logan’s arm fall around Patton’s shoulders. Logan started, but he didn’t remove it, and he let Patton lean into his side.

“Gosh, this was a mess, huh?” Patton giggled and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes again. “It’s already so late in the evening and I’m still such a mess of feelings.”

“We could all use a decompression activity,” Logan said. “May I…”

Thomas smiled. “Sure, buddy, go ahead and watch the nature documentaries.”

“Yes!” Logan looked triumphant. He turned on the TV and found one about birds. “Does this work?”

“Sure,” Thomas said. He paused. “So...what do we do?”

“Tonight?” Logan asked. “Watch TV, relax, and go to sleep.”

“And...tomorrow?”

“That’s tomorrow,” Patton said, punctuated by a yawn. “We’re still in today.”

Thomas smiled a bit. “Focus on tonight, huh?”

“Focus on the choices you can make right now.” Logan watched the TV begin to pan over a rainforest. “Sometimes you’re allowed to ignore your thoughts for a while.”

“Sometimes I’m allowed not to know things yet.” Thomas thought about it. “Thanks, Logan. Patton. I know this--can’t be easy for you guys.”

“It’s not,” Patton admitted. “But we’re working to be good people, right?”

“You’re working to be better,” Thomas corrected. “And you’re both doing amazing.”

Patton smiled. Logan hummed and pulled his blanket across Patton’s legs.

“Tonight we relax,” Thomas said, and smiled. “Yeah. I can work with that. I know we’ll figure stuff out soon.”

“You do?” Patton asked sleepily.

“I’ve got you guys in my corner, how could I not?”

Logan flushed before adjusting his glasses. “Likewise, we have you. As we are parts of you, you’re in your own corner.”

“Confusing,” Thomas remarked. “Let me guess--”

“It’s complicated,” Logan and Patton said.

“Thought so.”

But maybe he didn’t need to understand it. Maybe he didn’t need to know everything. He knew that Logan and Patton, and Roman, and Virgil--and Janus--were on his side. He knew they cared about him. He knew they’d help him be okay.

Maybe that could be all he needed. Maybe he just needed to trust in every part of himself.

Thomas looked down at his chest. Patton had slung an arm across it and was already half-asleep. Logan was intently watching the nature documentary. Somewhere in his head, Virgil and Roman were probably celebrating, or sleeping, if they were smart. Somewhere else, maybe Janus was smiling.

Thomas trusted every piece of himself that he knew.

Maybe he could learn to trust himself, too.

After all, he had enough time to make a million choices.

“Goodnight,” Thomas said as Patton began to snore. Logan murmured a response. “I--I love you guys, okay?”

“Love you too, kiddo,” Patton mumbled.

“I--” Logan breathed out. “I--hold you in the highest regard.”

“Love you too, nerd.” Thomas smiled. “You’re the best.”

He knew that he loved them. He loved every part of himself. And maybe, one day, he could get around to loving himself, too.

He knew that he wanted to. He knew that he wanted. He knew that he had the best possible backup, and a very cute possible boyfriend, and that he could get what he wanted, if he tried.

It was okay. It was fine. Things would figure themselves out.

Right now, Thomas was exactly where he needed to be.

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#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #platonic logicality #sanders sides fanfiction #back at it again with the lowercase parentheses titles #also i am rly sorry that i haven't written much #finals are coming up and yeah it's just been a wild ride #and i'm sorry this angsty mess is the first thing i post in weeks djhsgfshsjs #we're all friends here we know what to expect #tw anxiety #tw panic attack #averywrites

[nyxalecto]

Can we know a bit about your crush? :"3

ok uuuh UUUUUH…… SWEATS,,,,,,,, boyo is it hot in here? ummm so they actually follow me so imma have to be real vague in case they see this but ill have u know i could list like……….. a million billion amazing things about them omg (also sticking this under a read more so the world doesnt have to listen to me cry for literally forever)

UM SO YEAH OK my crush is literally???????? probably the most beautiful human ive seen… like ever………. and not juts in a “ah yes what an attractive human!” way (though theres that to) but mostly in a CLENCHES HEART AND FALLS TO THE GROUND BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH THIS PERSON JUST RADIATES BEAUTY???? LIKE FRIEND BELIEVE ME JUST STANDING NEXT TO THIS HUMAN WOULD PROBABLY LITERALLY DESTROY ME THATS HOW POWERFUL THEY ARE i literally cannot think of a good enough analogy to describe them uuuh but yes mark my word! and then theres also just that like i absolutely adore talking to them? like i rlly want to describe in perfect detail how and why they make me so stupidly happy just by talking to me but thatd definitely give it away if they read this so im just gonna say that like….. i genuinely dont think theres ever been a time where we talked and i was bored/not particularly interested if that makes sense? like even if it isnt happy stuff i feel like they listen to me, and i listen to them, and im actually able to help them feel better! and every time they say i made them feel even a tiny bit better i just feel my heart warm up like the sun and im just glowing ; ; theyre also just like one of THE MOST talented people ever???? like cosplaying, makeup, art U NAME IT MY BOY they are wonderful!!!!!  like i just…….. im gonna get real sappy real fast if i keep going but i was really weird emotions-wise after my previous breakup and more importantly than just having a crush this person made me feel perfect emotions-wise rather than weird. i dont know how to articulate it exactly but i feel like i can just be myself around them without having to justify or prove or explain it all. its like being surrounded by a beautiful light rather than attempting to chase after it!! they just make me feel warm and safe and welcome……… (∗∕ ∕•̥̥̥̥∕ω∕•̥̥̥̥∕)

#please.... ignore my weird sappy descriptions ; ; #i def went 100000% overboard w this friends im in deep #im so embarrassed oh my god #gosh darn it ai

[kaspbrak-tozier-reddie]

Band of Toziers - 4/?- ao3 

Pairings: Reddie, Storis, Byler

Words: 14.5k

Preview:

- The Losers come over as soon as Eddie send them a text, with a 'Code WTF?!' - The Party drive up to Derry to meet Richie after Mike sends them all a text Just a sappy chapter on Mike, Boris and Richie meeting the Party and Losers Club.

We're now getting some Reddie, Storis and Byler stuff now ❤

Notes:

Because there are two Mikes, I'm calling Mike Wheeler 'Mike' and Mike Hanlon 'Michael', when the two are in the same place. If I get lazy or lose track, I may refer to both by their surnames just to lessen the confusion.

This does jump from boy to boy, so I'm sorry but it should get better. I've never done this sort of thing before.

An hour after Eddie had sent a 'Code WTF' (Unique situation - changes per person), Bev rushes over. She doesn't bother with the front door and jumps in through Richie's bedroom window.

"Uhhh, did you make a clone machine?" Bev asks as soon as she picks herself off the floor. She eyeballs the three Richie's in the room, noting the subtle differences between the 3 and picks out her Richie, the only one with the bad eyesight. The other two look like weird variations of Richie's personalities.

Happy Richie:

Okay, now she's reaching, but that's just the vibe he gives her.

Emo Richie:

Fall Out Boy,

My Chemical Romance, and

Panic! at the Disco.

maybe industrial

maybe a plug

double lobe

Bev's reaching, but she wants to have fun before they come by and trash her judgement.

"Hi I'm Michael, but you can call me Mike," the one dressed in bright colours says, holding out his hand towards the young redhead.

"Hi, Mike," Bev replies.

"I'm Boris," the emo looking Richie says.

"Hi, I'm Beverly, but please call me Bev," she replies. Her strong demeanour falters into shyness. Nothing about this is okay. Why hadn’t Richie told any of them about his family?

”So, uh, I’ll explain when the others get here,” Richie says.

As they all wait for the rest of the Losers to arrive, the 5 of them sit in absolute silence. Bev is confused, watching as the three Toziers interacted with each other just by eye glances. She noted a heap of similarities in their demeanours. "Weird right?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, and here I thought one Richie was enough," Bev replies.

Richie's bedroom door swings open and in walks the rest of the Losers Club. "SUP FUCKERS?!" Bill screams as he enters, then he sees the 3 Toziers sitting around Richie's desk. "Oh shit!" Stan, Ben and Mike spot the 3 Toziers in the room. Completely disregarding Eddie and Bev who are chilling by the window.

"Richard, did you finally make that cloning machine? The one you've been talking about?" Stan asks.

"Nope," Richie replies. "This is my twin brother, Mike." He gestures to the identical twin in the bright clothing, "and this is our cousin, Boris."

As Boris looks at the rest of the Losers, he locks eyes with a blonde-haired boy. He smiles slightly, at him, and the boy smiles back.

Now was Richie's introduction of the Losers, all groaning in dread

"Guys, this is Big Bill, our ring leader. If he jumped off a cliff, he'd expect us all to follow," Richie says as he hugs the leader.

"This is Haystack, he's a gifted poet. It got him a girl that's way outta his league," Richie points to Bev and tussles Ben's hair.

"This is Mike Meyers, you know, that dude from Austin Powers. Mike's our nerd, he lives in the library."

"Finally, we have Staniel or Stanley Urine, either one works. He likes watching birds, at first I thought he liked watching girls but I found out he meant the actual animals. So I promise, he's not a creepoid."

Mike and Boris laugh simultaneously.

"Ignore him," Stan says. "I'm Stanley Uris, that's Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom and Bill Denbrough." Stan throws a quick smile to Boris before looking away, blushing.

Beverly catches it in her peripheral vision. Stan's demeanour changed as soon as he saw Boris. "Eddie, do you know if Stan had a crush on Richie at some point?" Bev asks the hypochondriac. Eddie feels a pinch of jealousy running through his veins but still thinks upon it. He wasn't subtle with his feelings, but if Stan did have a crush on Richie, it would've been subtle. The hypochondriac tries to get into Stan's mind but comes up blank.

"I don't think so, why?" Eddie responds.

"I swear I just saw Stan blush."

Eddie sits upright and looks directly at Stan.  He tries to hide his jealousy, and takes his time before saying, "Richie?"

Bev shakes her head, "Boris."

Eddie wants to laugh, that can't be right. Stan is emotionless and often talks about dying or birds. So, it can't be true, that Stan blushed, Bev must've been seeing things. But then he sees it for himself, Stan is laughing with Boris, his cheeks are bright red but he doesn't even care. He elbows Bev and gestures to Stan, she smirks, then turns back to Eddie. "So, what about you and the Trashmouth? Told him yet?"

"No," Eddie lies through gritted teeth. He has to talk to Richie about it first before they tell the Losers.

*

"So, Mike, you seeing anyone?" Ben asks Richie's twin.

"Yeah, my best friend, Will Byers," Mike replies.

"Gee Rich, step up your game and ask out Eddie," Bill says.

"I thought that - " Mike sees Richie shaking his head; he doesn't continue.

Much like Eddie, Richie wants to wait until he has spoken to his hypochondriac boyfriend.

Richie listens in on Mike, learning about his group of friends. Like Richie's group, they have a name for themselves. Instead of the 'Losers Club', Mike's group calls themselves the Party.

There's a shit ton of similarities between the two groups that Richie realises as Mike explains. The Party sit in Mike's basement playing Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) and the Losers Club sit in an underground bunker (clubhouse) doing god knows what, mostly drinking and playing 'truth or dare' or 'never have I ever'.

Then as Mike starts explaining his friends, Richie quickly learns that Mike's their ring leader like Bill's the Losers Club's leader.

Will sounds a bit like Eddie;

Dustin = Richie;

Lucas = Stan;

Jane = Ben;

Maxine 'Max' = Bev; and

Steve = Mike.

Richie got all of that just by Mike's descriptions of his friends. It amazes Richie, sometimes, how fast his mind works. Maybe it also has something to do with his undiagnosed ADHD.

"Anyone want anything to drink?" Richie asks, they all said 'yes'. "Eds, can you help me?"

"How many times, Richard? Don't call me 'Eds'!" Eddie responds and gets up, following his tall boyfriend down the stairs.

*

"Hey, Boris, can I talk to you for a second?" Beverly asks the 'emo-looking' Richie.

"Yeah, okay," Boris replies, he gets up from his seat on the desk and sits on the window sill, beside Bev.

"Do you like Stan?" It catches Boris off guard, it stammers a little. "It's just, he's been blushing like mad and he never really does that." Boris looks towards the blonde-haired boy for the umpteenth time today.

There are several things that Boris notices about the bird expert. The way he stands when talking to people; perfect posture. His hand gestures as he speaks. Boris is not one to believe in 'love at first sight' but he thinks that he can let this one slide. There's just something different about Stanley compared to Theo. He started to like Theo a few months after they started to hang out, maybe it was the drugs or the alcohol but he's been sober for 48 hours now. He hasn't had a craving for weed, coke or alcohol since he laid his eyes on the blonde-haired boy.

Beverly nudges Boris, "you're staring," she states. "I can hook you two up if you want?"

"No thank you, Beverly. I need to get to know Kolibri first," Boris says.

"'Kolibri'?"

"It means Hummingbird in Russian." Boris removes himself and goes back to join Mike and the others.

Bev just lets it sink in, 'Hummingbird'. Why did he call Stan a Hummingbird?

He did make Stan laugh before; it makes sense. Maybe.

Stan looks over to Bev, she quickly signals over. He mutters a quick 'sorry' to Mike, and pads over to Bev. "You called?" Stan says.

"Do you like Boris?" Bev asks, cutting to the chase, she's not in the mood for that airy-fairy bullshit.

"No, maybe, yes? I don't know," Stan sighs.

He too isn't one to believe in 'love at first sight', he finds it bullshit. But he couldn't explain his feelings about Boris any other way.

"He called you a hummingbird, in Russian."

"It's the way I laugh, it sounds like I'm humming." Stan smiles and blushes. Beverly had only ever seen one person do that, and that was Eddie whenever he spoke about Richie. With Eddie, it was a sign of embarrassment and shame because of the bullshit lies Sonia fed him. But Stan? Stan's is because he's shy, he's opening up to Beverly about something that he would normally go to Richie for. Richie would make a joke, to break the tension, but would 100% support him.

"Is it weird? He looks so much like Richie, I need to talk to him." Stan gets up and goes downstairs to where Richie and Eddie are pouring everyone a drink.

*

"Richie, Eddie, can I talk to you both ab - " Stan cuts himself off as he walks in on Richie and Eddie kissing. "Never mind." He does a 180 and heads back to the stairs.

"Wait!" Richie calls, "We'll explain just tell us what you wanted, please."

"Okay, I'll go first," Stan says, he sighs, "I may have developed some sort of crush on your cousin." Eddie's jaw drops; he didn't misread Stan. Richie smiles, which freaks Stanley out. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because it's cute!" Richie exclaims.

"But he looks like you! I just don't think - "

"You worried you'd get feelings for me or something?"  

Stan pauses for a bit and looks at the ground. "I don't know, maybe. You both look alike, he's basically like you. So's Mike."

"Stan, look at me." Stan moves his head up and meets Richie's eyes. "Look me dead in the eyes and tell me that you only see me as a friend."

Stan looks to Eddie, who's still got his lips parted. The blonde boy smiles momentarily at Eddie, then looks back to Richie. He searches Richie's face, looking at the similarities between Boris and him; physically. Okay, so Richie's kinda hot, Stan thinks, but as he gets to the personality, Boris is more chill and conventional. He isn't spontaneous like Richie is.

Richie is bothersome, his jokes are appalling and not to mention his flirting with Eddie. Considering what Stan just saw in the kitchen, he's hoping that Richie will be less vexatious. But then again, even before Eddie, Richie was annoying. Who knew a 5-year-old could be that irritating? Also, he's astonishingly intelligent, barely has to study for anything and will still pass with flying colours (it'll be interesting to see what he'll be like at college). Stan's spent too much time with the trashmouth that he's not fully attracted to him, besides his looks. But that's because Boris, who looks a lot like Richie, opened a floodgate.

"I like you as a friend," Stan says, staring at Richie.

"Also, Stan, please don't say anything to the others about Rich and me, please," Eddie says.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Kaspbrak," Stan replies and grabs a tray off the bench.

*

The three boys carry up a tray each of the drinks, for the Losers, Mike and Boris. Richie gives Stan a wink and shoves him lightly into Boris, causing him to fall directly into Boris' lap. Stan gives a tight embarrassed smile at Boris before giving Richie the middle finger, to which, Richie responds with his own.

Mike watches from the sidelines, looking between both Richie, Stan & Boris. He nudges Michael, "Does that normally happen?" Mike asks.

"Hmm, no, Stan and Richie say one or two words to each other. Then just stare,"  Michael replies. "Richie smiling at Stan? That's not normal."

"When Richie tried to set Stan up with Greg, he smiled exactly ... " Bill trails off and looks directly to Stan, who, by the way. hasn't bothered to remove himself from Boris' lap. "Oh."

Even Ben and Bev notice the smile that Richie is giving Stan, whenever their eyes lock. Everyone in that damn room can see that Richie and Stan are best friends. Mike Wheeler thought that maybe Richie and Stan hated each other but that smile; that god damn smile ... It's living proof that Stan likes Richie's opinion. Because Richie and Stan are best friends.

Bev walks over to the three boys, leaving her boyfriend with Richie and Eddie. "You know, Stan told me that he needed to speak to Richie," Bev says.

"That makes no sense," Michael says. "Stan has never once asked for Richie's advice."

"Whenever Richie and I have our smoke sessions on Fridays, he tells me if Stan had spoken to him," Bev explains. "Not to mention, Richie goes to him before he comes to me."

"Wait, wait. Does that mean that Stan found out that Richie was gay before you did?" Bill asks. Bev nodded. "If you knew for a whole 5 months, Stan knew for what? 5, 6? Months?"

"8, actually." The boys' jaws drop; Stan had kept a secret for 8 months and said nothing?

It puzzles the Losers as to why the two-act like they hate each other when, in reality, they're the best of friends.

Mike is just listening in by this point when he starts to get a little bored - he's not going to lie. He decides to talk with the others on the opposite side of the room.

"How's it going, Mike?" Eddie asks.

"Good, good. This is the chaos that I miss," The Party's leader says. "It was before we met Jane and Maxine, it was just us boys."

"Chaotic as fuck?" Richie chimes in, Mike laughs and nods his head. "Say, Mikey, invite your friends up. We've got the room and I'm sure mom won't care. If not, we can chill at Mike's farm."

Mike shrugs and pulls his phone out from his pocket. He opens the Party's group chat inviting the Party up to Derry.

**** **** ****

A few hours later, the Losers, Boris and Mike all head down to the clubhouse. Showing the two newcomers the ropes. As per usual, Eddie and Richie sit in the hammock, just not head to toe like normal. More like sitting side-by-side, cuddling. "Say, Koromyslo, you and Edward? Yeah?" Boris pipes up. Richie ignores the question, only focusing on the unknown word that sounds a Russian translation of sorts.

"What's a 'koromyslo'?" Richie asks.

"Rocker," Boris says monotonously. "So you and Edward? Yes?" Stan giggles.

"You fucking snitch, Stan!" Richie yelps.

"I said nothing, you two are so obvious!" Stan laughs. "You always sit head to toe. Now you're cuddling?"

"You're insufferable," Richie mutters.

"He isn't denying it," Beverly says. "Did you two finally admit your feelings?"

Richie rolls his eyes and looks at Eddie, the boy beside him nods head slowly with caution. The Trashmouth cups Eddie's face in his hands and kisses him. He goes to lean down a little more, trying his best to get in a comfortable position but accidentally leans too much into Eddie. The hammock rocks dangerously and tips the two boys out.

Richie's glasses are just millimetres from falling off his face and are held up by Eddie's shoulder. Quickly fixing them, he looks up to see Eddie straddling him. "Well, I like this view," Richie says. Eddie groans in disgust.

Why? Goddammit, Richie! Eddie thinks to himself

"Come on guys! Leave this place for our innocent childhoods!" Ben groans.

Eddie pushes himself off Richie, dusting himself down before holding out his hand for Richie. "Damn, then I can't tell you ... eh, who am I kidding? I've jerked off to the thought of Eddie's mom down here," Richie says.

"BEEP BEEP RICHIE!" All 6 Losers groan and Eddie punches him in the arm.

"Why do I like you?" Eddie mutters.

Richie looks somewhat offended but knows that Eddie is 100% joking. The two reposition on the hammock and Richie leans over to grab a comic book. His backpack sits by the wooden post that's barely within arms reach. Bev watches on, silently hoping that the hammock tips over again; that would be priceless.

*

Mike and Boris watch the Losers Club sit around minding their own business. Richie and Eddie are reading a comic together, while Stan is bird watching, from a hole in the ceiling. Bev, Ben, Mike (Hanlon) and Bill are playing cards quietly by the swing.

The only sounds that can be heard are the rustling of pages turning; rope squeaking, as the hammock rocks gently; leaves rustling above them, and birds chirping.

Suddenly a buzzing noise interrupts the silence, every head in the underground bunker turns to Mike. He pulls his phone from his pocket.

"Hey, babe?" Mike answers.

"We'll be there in like a day. We're catching a flight now," Will says on the other side of the call.

"Okay, see you tomorrow, Will. Love you."

"Love you too."

Mike hangs up the phone. "What?" Everyone goes back to what they were doing, leaving Mike to his thoughts.

"It's 6 pm, guys," Bill says.

"Crap! Mom's not going to be happy! I'll be grounded for sure!" Eddie says.

"You're staying at mine, remember?" Richie says as he helps Eddie out of the hammock.

"Shoot, sorry, Rich."

"All good, Eds."

Mike follows but looks back to Boris, who's waiting patiently for Stan. The Wheeler boy sees something in his cousin's eye; a look that he's seen today and every day, for the past year. It's the look of love, no doubt about it. He climbs up the corroded aluminium ladder where Richie and Eddie are waiting. Mike feels a slight wind change and sees Eddie shiver. As if on intuition, his brother wraps his arms, tightly, around the hypochondriac. "Hurry, you two. Eddie will get hypothermia!" Mike calls.

"It's not that - " Stan emerges from the bunker and immediately gets hit with the wind change. "Never mind, it's a wee bit chilly."

Boris quickly hoists himself up and shrugs off his leather jacket, enveloping it around Stan's shoulders. The boy blushes ferociously, as he tugs the jacket's opening together, he leans into Boris for extra warmth.

As the 5 of them walk up to the streets of Derry, Mike feels like he's 5th wheeling, slowing down his pace to walk behind the couples - one couple; Richie breaks his awkwardness.

"I was thinking since your friends and boyfriend are coming tomorrow, what if we go on a camping trip? The 6 of us? The week before we're set to go to college?" Richie says.

"Hang on Rich, 6 of us?" Stan asks.

"Well, wouldn't want Boris to be 5th wheeling now, would we?" Richie replies, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, but why me?" Stan states.

Richie simply points to the leather jacket that's enveloped around the blonde's shoulders. Stan reddens again, leaning into Boris to conceal his embarrassment, but that only makes it worse.

**** **** ****

The following day, Mike awaits the arrival of his friends. All but Dustin and Lucas were coming, due to last-minute college plans and family vacations, the two couldn't make it; but Max, Will and El are coming. The three of them are catching a taxi into town. "When were you friends supposed to get here?" Maggie asks Mike.

"9 am," Mike replies, still pacing impatiently. The clock on the wall reads '11 am', the Party is 2 hours late and Mike's starting to worry. "Maybe their flight's delayed."

Maggie nods, hugging her second son briefly before heading off to work, leaving Mike and Richie alone, in the kitchen. The Wheeler boy checks his phone again for the 10th time within the past 20 minutes, still no messages from his friends. Richie makes another cup of coffee for himself, putting himself in the way of Mike's pacing line.

"Check the Snapmap," Richie says, getting annoyed with his brother's pacing.

"I don't have snap chat, and neither do my friends," Mike replies.

Abruptly, a boy comes down the stairs in nothing but boxers, huffing out in annoyance. Boris could hear the two of them, all the way upstairs. He's usually a heavy sleeper so how the fuck is Eddie still asleep?

"What even is social media?" Boris replies groggily.

"Did you seriously just get up?" Mike ripostes.

"Yes, now quiet. I need my normal 4 cups of coffee before anyone talks to me," Boris says and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring it into a mug that he pulls from the cabinet above. Richie and Boris leave the kitchen to wake up elsewhere, allowing Mike to deal with his chaotic crisis.

*

Finally, 3 hours later, the Party shows up, "What the hell?" Mike says as he stands on the bottom-most stair. "Where have you guys been?!"

"Our taxi broke down, we had to walk all the way here. No reception." Will puffs out.

"Mike, who's at the - oh, hello," Richie says as he goes down the stairs. "I take it, you're Will." Will just about faints when he sees Richie and it doesn't help that Boris exits from the kitchen, causing poor Will to faint.

Richie yells for Eddie with his 2 fanny packs (that he no longer uses) but still has first aid supplies.

The feisty young lad comes bounding down the stairs with a cold and wet cloth. "Well, lay him down," Eddie says. "And Boris, Richie, mind if you leave the room? I don't want him to faint again." The trashmouth and the emo leave the room, while Eddie tends to Will.

"Richie wasn't kidding," Mike says.

"Yeah well, you pick up a few things when your mom makes you think you're sick when you not," Eddie retorts; he turns his head to look at the girls. "Hey, I'm Eddie, Mike's told us all about you."

"I'm El, and this is Max," the brunette says. "Who were those boys?"

"The one with the glasses is Richie, my boyfriend and Mike's brother. They had no idea that the other existed until yesterday." Eddie explains. "The other, dressed in black, is Boris, their cousin. He was adopted by a Russian family when his parents died. His story is super morbid."

Will stirs on the couch and Mike rushes to take Eddie's place beside Will, keeping the cool cloth on his head. "What happened?" Will asks.

"You fainted, guess my brother and cousin are a bit too much," Mike says. "You okay?"

Will nods and Mike leans down to peck his lips.

"Don't worry, I'll bring them out, just don't faint on me again," Mike says.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Will replies, the boy spots Eddie in his peripheral vision. "I'm Will Byers."

"Eddie Kaspbrak," Eddie replies and takes the cloth off Will's forehead.

Mike walks back out with Richie and Boris; the two boys behind him, scratch the backs of their heads nervously as they are introduced to each of the Party members. So as it turned out, Mike and El dated before Mike got with Will. It had taken El moving away with the Byers for Mike to realise that he wasn't in love with El, he was in love with Will. "I had spoken to El, about it," Mike says, "thankfully she was understanding."

"We were better off as friends anyway," El states.

It's awkward for a moment, and Richie thinks of a good icebreaker. "Shall we head down to the quarry?" Richie asks.

"Where Koromyslo?" Boris asks.

"You know where we were yesterday?" Boris and Mike nod, "It's a few yards further, it's where we like to go swimming."

"Ahem!" Eddie fake coughs.

"Sorry, most of us, like to go swimming. Eddie hates it because there are germs," Richie fixes. "But, babe, let me just say that there are germs everywhere you go, including a hospital."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "If we're going, we need swimwear," Eddie says. El and Max look at each other, "Shit, Richie maybe we should go and get Bev."

Richie whips his phone out and immediately starts texting the redhead and not even 2 minutes later, she's bursting into the Tozier residence.

"I heard two gals needed swimmers," Bev says. "Hello, I'm Beverly Marsh, the only girl in the group of 7 dirty annoying, chaotic boys."

"Piss off Marsh, I just wanted the swimmers. You're not coming," Richie spits, then starts laughing and as does Bev. "Sorry, she can be a bit of a handful sometimes. Ignore her, she's just happy that she has other females to talk to."

The redhead sticks her tongue out at the trashmouth, only to get a middle finger in return. "Well Bev, I'm Maxine, Max for short. And this is El," the other redhead says. "I think we're going to get along just fine." Bev leads them up the stairs, letting the 4 boys wonder what the fuck just happened.

"Girls." They all said simultaneously.

**** **** ****

As the lot of them finally made it to the quarry, they are aced with the massive cliff. "Is it safe to jump?" Max asks.

"We do it all the time," Richie says.

"Yeah, after Bev constantly shows us up," Eddie replies and on cue the redhead pushes past everyone, jumping straight into the murky green water below. Boris goes next, somersaulting into the water.

"Oh come on!" Richie cries and goes to do a run up.

"No! Don't you dare, that's dangerous"' Eddie says sternly, Richie gestures to Boris. "You're clumsy and idiotic; he's probably done a heap of practice. Do. Not. Do. It."

Taking his boyfriend's advice he just does a basic run and jump, landing feet first in the disgusting water below.

Since Eddie is left with the newcomers he links them up, standing in between El and Will, taking both their hands in his and guiding them forward. Mike spits out the shitty water that got into his mouth and as does Eddie.

Boris, Bev and Mike immediately start to splash each other and wrestle, in the water; while Richie sits on the sandbank to get to know the others a bit.

Max starts off, talking about how she beat Mike's highest score on an arcade game. It was the initial reason as to why she thought Mike hated her. ' 'MadMax' beat my high score '. Richie and her, got talking about skateboarding, he had always wanted to try it but never got around to it. "I'll show you, I taught El not too long ago and now she's a pro," Max says.

"Well, in that case, sign me up," Richie replies.

El's next. She had fled the orphanage when she was 12/13, she met Mike, Dustin and Lucas in the woods one rainy night while they were looking for Will. Richie starts to laugh as El said that Mike hid her in his basement for a solid few months without no one knowing besides Dustin and Lucas.

Before Will can say a word, Richie feels cold water on his now partially dry hair. "You're dead Marsh!" Richie bellows.

"It wasn't Marsh this time," Eddie teases.

"I don't care that I love you, you're going down Kaspbrak!"

Will, Max and El watch on as Richie and Eddie tackle each other, laughing.

#reddie #storis #byler #richie x eddie #eddi x richie #stan x boris #boris x stan #mike x will #will x mike #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #boris pavlikovsky #mike wheeler #will byers #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #the goldfinch #stranger things

[whitewolfbumble]

A Year of Firsts - Part Two (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be a year of firsts, but then you met Bucky and everything started to fall into place.

Request: Can you do a Bucky x Reader college AU?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Sappy sweet fluff, implied sex (no explicit description)

Word Count: About 4k

A/N: I had a crazy influx of people wanting more, so here we are!! I hope you all enjoy this completely and totally fluffy follow-up, detailing the progression of your relationship with the soft healing Bucko. Please let me know what you think!

MY MASTERLIST // SEND ME A REQUEST // PART ONE

Your first time meeting his friends:

You didn’t realize until you were in the building what “team” really meant when he mentioned it all that time ago. Certainly not rugby, that’s for sure. You should have guessed, but to be honest, you had been so wrapped up in him you weirdly hadn’t thought about it much.

You and him had created a bubble, an intimate one built for two, away from the world and the other people in it. It was a gentle and safe place for you, and gentle and healing place for him. You life had become school, your little Italian restaurant, and Bucky. But that didn’t mean you could ignore the rest of the world forever.

The world ended up being quite the group of his friends, gathered in an upstate New York compound. It was a large and bright estate, with sleek rooms of glass, modern technology at every turn, and large windows that brought the lush green indoors. It seemed far away from the rustic little Italian place you usually called home, but the gracious, smiling faces within had a certain hominess to them too actually. You chose to think of them in the same kind of wavelength as customers, trying your best to handle the rather intimidating pedestal you put them on in your mind.

“He’s told us next to nothing about you,” Natasha Romanoff said to you with a smile, not as bright as the grey light streaming through the lounge windows, but certainly warmer. “Which shouldn’t be surprising at all, knowing him.”

Tony Stark- the Tony Stark, much to your slightly numb and overwhelmed mind- walked up beside Nat to shake your hand.

“Well, we did do some digging into you, just so you know. Might as well get that out of the way.” he said with that billionaire smile, hand outstretched. “The verdict is you’re pretty boring, which is probably best for this old geezer here.”

Tony nodded to Bucky who was a little awkwardly standing right beside you- practically attached to your hip and holding your right hand as he had done the whole entire way up here. He hadn’t let go for a second the entire way. Now he still held on, keeping you from shaking the hand of anyone.

You glanced at him, who seemed unaware with that same subtly at-ease look that had been on his face for days now since you first kissed him. It had gently replaced the reserved, held back expression he usually had, it melting into a purr of happiness in his chest. You thought a reaction like this would be hard earned and rare and a long way out, considering how deep into his shell he was when you first met him. But that kiss had broken away some damaged piece of him, your presence a soothing balm that elicited this warmth buzzing from him.

You apologetically look back to Tony, grabbing and shaking awkwardly with the wrong hand, before quickly pulling it away, a little out of place.

“Don’t worry,” you started lightly, breezing over this slightly embarrassing first interaction. “I have the entire global media on my side who’s constantly updating me on your going-ons, so I’d say I still have the uphand in the information department here.”

Tony looked Bucky up and down, but the man attached to your hip had his eyes glued to you. It wasn’t nervously, which would be understandable, him wanting the approval of his friends. And it wasn’t protectively, like he felt the need to shield you away from scrutiny. It also didn’t have that air of possessiveness, like his stance next to you and eyes constantly on you (not to mention his hand locked onto yours) was there to keep everyone else away and claim you as his alone. It was none of those things.

It was almost like he was... proud.

Like he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, the intimate little bubble you and he created finally molded together with the rest of his world. And it made him look like he was smugly, lovingly proud to have you there.

Despite Bucky’s ability to shut down and hide away himself and any emotion, even he couldn’t shake that air of happiness about him. And that was what Tony and the other’s saw clear as day too..

The Iron Man winked at you, catching the ease from Bucky in a second, his approval apparent.

But when Bucky caught the eye of Steve as he walked into the lounge, he pulled you away from the other two without so much as an acknowledgement to them. You didn’t have time to apologize for it, casting a small smile back by way of saying sorry, though the two of them seemed happy to huddle together, a look of ease on their faces now too.

“This,” Bucky said by way of introduction, watching you and stopping short in front of his friend. “Is Y/N.”

You waited a moment before sighing a little, almost letting out a breathy chuckle now (because what else was there to do?) as you looked down to your occupied hand before shaking Steve’s hand awkwardly with the other.

The blonde man out of time looked to Bucky slightly wide-eyed for a just a moment, but again, that went unseen to Bucky, who was unwilling to let you out of his sight for a moment.

You tried not to let the heat that was building on your face show to the group of people around, but that was hardly possible. Bucky’s eyes stayed on you, watching you with a look that could only be described as pure contentment, the side of his body always pressed into the side of yours, no matter where you went.

He had never gotten this close to anyone you had seen, even his friends here now he seemed relatively disinterested in (though friendly) compared to you. He was happy with you. Completely. And it shone out of him in a drunken, hazy way that intoxicated you too, the warmth from his clear adoration heat you up like a furnace.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said almost weakly to Steve, who was pursing his lips to keep from smiling. You weren’t sure he had seen this in his friend, at least maybe not for a long long time. “Bucky has said some great things about you, it’s nice to put a face to the other half of what I could only properly describe as the Brooklyn Hooligans.”

Steve did a kind of double-take at the little tease you made before a crooked grin, which seemed native to these Brooklyn boys, broke loose.

“I hope he hasn’t told you everything, at any rate.” he said to you ruefully.

“No, but I’ll get the rest out of him,” you said, giving a sideways glance to Bucky. “I think that won’t be a struggle with the heart eyes he’s been giving me today.”

Steve snorted at that, choosing to keep his mouth shut in response. No need to state the obvious there.

“Who, me?” Bucky asked quietly with a smile, still ignoring the whole world, save you.

The first time you fell:

The drive home through the dark wooded area was quiet, the curvy side roads taking you away from the gleaming compound in favour of the dusky night settling in. All the while, your hand was still held in his.

“I will need this back before you drop me off, Buck.” you said, squeezing his hand a little.

“I know… But we have some time left still.” he reasoned, eyes on the road. You swear you saw them glint with fondness just a little.

“Can I ask why you’ve been holding my hand for the last four hours?” you asked. “I mean, at one point I thought it was actually dripping with sweat. I was going to ask if anyone knew where the “Caution: Wet Floor” signs were.”

“Was not dripping.” he countered, glancing your way.

“I was two minutes away from calling the weather station and warning them of an oncoming flood.”

He scowled good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t anywhere near that bad.”

“Okay fine,” you conceded before pointing out. “But that doesn’t answer the question. Afraid I was going to run away or something?”

He rolled the words around in his mouth silently before voicing them, the sound of his voice low and sweet.

“It just… fits. That’s all. We just fit.”

A simple explanation.

But god, it held so much.

You just watched him, feeling him hold onto your hand in the same way he was now holding onto your heart. With warmth and a soft intensity that made you beam and your skin tingle.

Because yeah, you did fit together.

In the quiet surrounding of the forest, driving along curving dark roads, you fell for Bucky Barnes. Hard.

Completely and utterly you knew you were in love. Heart and soul consumed by it, mind unable and unwilling to deny it.

You couldn’t speak it, couldn’t so much as form the word, but you knew it would be plastered on your face in neon lights if he saw you. So instead you leaned in, holding his hand all the tighter and pushing your beaming bright smile into his shoulder while he drove you home.

The first time you stayed the night at his place:

Four in the morning.

It was four in the morning.

And on a school night. It seemed weird saying that because you were in college and an adult, but that didn’t make it any less true.

You were in your pyjamas, makeup-less, frantic, freezing. You didn’t think about any of that, not realizing or caring or feeling it at all. The only thing your mind was revolving around was one person, and it wasn’t you.

It was Bucky.

“Where is he?” you said loudly, racing out of the cab. “Is he hurt?”

“Y/N, you have a midterm exam in what? Four hours, don’t you?” Nat said, bring up a reality you were ready to throw away as she greeted you at the compound entrance. “Go home. We’ll get someone to drop you off and-”

“I’m not leaving!” you all but shouted, panicked. “Not without knowing he’s alright, please!”

A mission gone wrong. A midnight call from Bucky on the jet back, words slurred and pained. He had said he just wanted the comfort of your voice, making terror-stricken nausea roll in your stomach.

School couldn’t mean less to you right now.

Eventually Natasha gave way and the two of you were speed walking through the complex, her put together look and outfit despite the hour quite the contrast your frazzled one.

Walking without pause through the med bay doors, you saw him and immediately stopped still. He was on a bed, looking barely conscious, doctors and machine all around him, blocking most of him from view.

You hung back, handle motionless by the scene and feeling as though if you moved an inch you’d be sick.

“He’s going to be fine, Y/N.” Nat said, her eyes on you and a comforting (though unfelt) hand on your shoulder.

You swallowed, body suddenly feeling endlessly dry, trying your best not to panic as you watched doctors and nurses work on your Bucky. There were flashes of red blood and white bandages, adding a dizziness to the nauseousness swirling through you.

“How did you know?” you said absently to her, voice hushed and strained though eyes remained solely on Bucky. You barely even knew you were speaking, words tumbling out of your mouth. “About my exam, how did you know?”

Nat paused a second, watching her teammate. “He keeps a calendar. Writes all your classes and shifts and exams on it. When your papers are due, that kind of thing.”

You imagined him, your sweet Bucky, writing out your schedule every month so he knew when to send you a sweet text or piece of encouragement. The thought, contrasted to that man now lying hurt and bleeding on a hospital bed made tears spring up in your eyes.

It wasn’t took long until a doctor came up to assure you everything was fine, that he only needed rest now, being the super soldier he was. Nat asked some questions but you couldn’t wrap you mind around any of it, leaving her to the doctors and running up to him.

Under the white fluorescent lights he looked awful: pale skin, bandaged body, an IV stuck in him and monitors beeping around him. It made your breath come hard in your chest and pain creep across somewhere in your soul.

You gripped his hand, peripherals on the lingering doctor until they left. The second they were out the door you crawled up in the bed with him, biting your lip as you tried your best not to jostle him awake.

Yes, he needed rest. Yes, you should have left him well enough alone and sat in a chair like a normal visitor. But you needed him- needed to feel him and comfort him- so screw it.

Instead of just laying down beside him, you decided to take a bit of a different route. You were adamant that you weren’t going to leave, not until he woke up and didn’t want to risk have to move by way of the doctors incase they needed to check up on the damage to his body. If you laid down beside him, it meant you would probably have to move away from him at some point.

So instead, you shimmied up to the head of the bed. Internally you were basically screaming as you carefully removed the pillow he was resting on, managing to shift up and sit cross legged where it was. Gently you moved his head from the side and back on your lap, staring down at your Bucky and finally able to breathe normally again

You placed your hands on his shoulders, moving them up and across his neck then back, over and over by way of comfort (for the both of you). You shifted down and settled in, ready to ride out the rest of the dwindling night with him.

Sleep came on and off to you, white lights and beeps from the monitors keeping your sleep light in the few minutes you got it. Doctors came and nurses came, but you remained.

It was sometime in the morning proper when you cracked open one eye, sensing someone else walk silently in the room.

Steve looked at you and gave you a nod.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he said, whisper quiet, looking over his friend and the monitors briefly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered back, eyelids low with sleep and hands moving warm and comforting across his shoulders and neck again. “Hazard of my new job I guess, since I guess he doesn’t think school and work is enough.”

You weren’t sure if your little joke to lighten the mood was well placed or not, so you added on: “I don’t mind really, I’d really rather be here.”

Steve looked at you and nodded, those light blue eyes crinkling a little with words held hesitantly in his throat.

“It’s just after 9am now… You kind of missed your exam, I’m sorry.” he said, genuinely looking apologetic. You couldn’t understand why.

“No place I’d rather be than right here,” you said with a weary smile. “Besides, I would have killed him if I found out after. You’d be planning his funeral instead of apologizing, so I think in the long run this was best.”

You paused, silence filling the room for a bit while you stroked his skin, colour back in his face with the warm and protection of your presence through the night. You didn’t have it in you to tear you eyes away from him.

“Besides,” you whispered with a delicate little smile, more to yourself or the sleeping Bucky in your tired, groggy state. “He’s watched over me, I owe him one.”

Steve didn’t respond or interrupt your little intimate moment, eventually and silently walking away. Usually he was the one to stay after a mission gone bad, but felt a little more than confident to leave you to the task.

Tired but content, you shifted back slightly and leaned your head down to him, resting the side of your face partially on his chest just under his jawline. You stretched your hand out to rest across his chest and just breathed him in.

After some time where you may have drifted in and out of sleep again, you saw and felt his arm stretch up and move behind both you and him, placing it on your back. His head turned towards you, a breath away from your own, where his tired but serene eyes matched yours.

“Hey,” you whispered slowly, chest almost humming with the feel of his hand on your back.

You felt the other come up and place gently on the back of you head. Despite you being the one resting over top of him, you felt wrapped up by him all the same.

“Hey beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, words slow in your intimate little bubble. “You came… You shouldn’t have done that.”

You moved, nuzzling into his neck a bit, arm tightening around him in a secure hug. God, you couldn’t imagine feeling this blissful after a panicked night you had, your body stiff and exhausted. But you had him. None of the rest of that seemed to matter.

“I stayed,” you confirmed, breathing the words into his skin. “Nowhere else I’d be.”

The first time you said you loved him:

You laid there, wrapped up half naked in a bundle of sheets and pressed into Bucky’s body. His skin was on yours, the rise and fall of his chest about half the rate yours was right now.

It was cliched, you knew that. Probably ill-advised. Like, what woman in their right mind said “I love you” after the first time sleeping with someone? A stupid one, that’s who.

Having sex then saying those three words… well, it was just begging for an awkward dismissal followed by a hasty getaway from the guy, who would promise to call (but never would) while rushing out the door half-dressed like he was only just escaping with his life.

You could picture the whole scene in your mind as you lay there in the early morning dawn light. You imagined your reserved Bucky, sputtering and shifting, clamouring to get as far away from you and one of the most heavy, significant phrases a person could say.

But you didn’t care. Well, that’s not exactly true. Him reacting that way would crush you, along with the subsequent cold space where his now warm body was. A cold that would probably be a permanent fixture latched onto your heart from here on out if he ran.

But the deep-seeded need to say it outweighed the possibility of the pain of rejection.

Because you did. You loved him. Desperately. Intimately.

It had been clear in actions last night, but that is far different than saying it. It started off with a sweet kiss, only chaste for a moment, before his hands on you and yours on him were begging each other for more. Fingers pressed into skin and under clothes, air became nonexistent and unnecessary with only the feel of each needed to survive in that moment, cravings for the other turning almost desperate.

So wordlessly you both gave into each other, the slow heated movements and longings you shared turning into something faster and deeper, with bodies and souls both becoming one and belonging to the other. It all lead you here, asleep with him next to you in your bed, the pale sun on the verge of breaking through the horizon.

His arm was under you and wrapped around to your back while your head rested on his chest, the cold metal warmed pleasantly by the heat of your skin. You loved how he could hold you like this. With a prosthetic arm there was no risk of his arm falling asleep or getting uncomfortably pinned. He was able to just hold you close and drift off to sleep. God, nothing was better.

That heat seeped into your body then into your soul, his presence warming you to the brim and filling every piece of you with that warm glow of love. It was going to burst out of you if you didn’t let it go. So you decided just to say it.

“Bucky?” you whispered lightly into his chest.

At your voice he stirred, waking himself up enough to reach his other arm across to hold you, moving from his back to his stomach, now slightly on top of you and binding you into him. You were almost dizzy with love-sickness and feel of his body on yours, making this all the harder and easier.

He mumbled your name in response, nose nuzzling into your hair absently. He said it with the most contented little sleepy sigh. That gave you enough courage just to out and out say those few little words that held so much.

“Bucky, you don’t have to say anything,” you started, voice feather soft and light, almost unheard. “I just… I need to say that I… well, I love you.”

The second those words were loose, you tried to make yourself smaller, to shift away from him and the feeling of being so emotionally exposed. You knew he had feelings for you- of course he did- but feelings and being in love were two different things. The weight of saying the latter was a little stifling, the oncoming response (or lack thereof) instantly making you want to squirm away.

But Bucky didn’t let you. His response was immediately to lift up his head, with his arms reflexively wrapping you in tighter as you tried to sink into the mattress. He looked at you, your eyes down cast and shifting, not able to meet his.

But you didn’t have much of a choice when he bent down to you, forehead on yours, his lips at the corner of your mouth.

“God, you’re beautiful.” he whispered with overwhelming sincerity, the words about making your beating heart stop. “... And I love you, too.”

Either your heart was beating so fast you couldn’t tell the beats apart, or it was just dead stopped in your chest. While you lay there in his arms, voice unable to say anything else at his words, Bucky kissed the corner of your mouth.

“I love you…” he whispered, so soft you almost couldn’t hear it, placing another kiss on your cheek, pushing his lips into your skin like you were the sweetest candy.

“I love you…” he said again, a kiss planted on your jawline.

“I love you…” he said, lips placed on your neck, breathing you in.

“I love you…” he said, kiss placed on side of your nose.

“I love you…” he said, warm and wet lips pressed against yours, once. Then again. And again. And again.

You lost count of how many times his whispered those words into your flesh, into your soul. He said it like he had been dying to tell you, like he had never said it before in his entire life and meant it. He pressed himself and those words into you and you lost all ability to do anything but drown into his presence and his love for you.

It was the first time you had ever told someone you loved them like this, and you would never be able to forget this moment here, with your Bucky. Your love.

A/N: Thanks for reading darlings! Hope you enjoyed the fluff here. I have some ideas for a third if people are interested. Apologies for any mistakes here!

Permanent Tags: @dontpanc, @smodvocate, @bunsterjonez, @buckybonky, @marveloustrashpanda, @hangirl93, @captainrogerrsbeard, @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen, @thisgirllikeme, @jjsoccer11, @innerpandablizzard-blog, @fanatic-fanfic, @mdgrdians, @christinky, @universal-death-of-a-fangirl, @cauraphernelia, @ailynalonso15

Bucky Barnes Tags: @bexboo616 @kaaatniss, @lost-in-translating, @emabookcookie

OKAY, I am going to tag those who either reblogged loving the first one or asked me for another chapter. I apologize if you did not wish to be be tagged, and I will happily remove you from this post if you like. NOTE, for any other additions to this I will NOT be tagging those listed here unless specificially requested, because I don’t want to be that dick twice: @cameronskywalker, @goldenxnhl, @wkemeup, @horsesbeforehomework, @lil-writes, @supernovasandcoronas, @book-dragon-13, @stardustandbucky, @watchoutforfrostbite, @crazybutconfidentaf, @fortunatelysaltydreamland, @coffee-with-bucky, @buckychrist, @cassiopeia-barrow, @ragna-wrecked

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #fluff #marvel #avengers #avenger fanfiction #avengers fanfic #avengers fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fluff #a year of firsts #a year of firsts part two

[kineticallyanywhere]

Ok I don’t have anything on Lina yet, but Wash I got somethin for. I know u were keen on aspect parallels but what about… class parallels!! Wash would be a wonderful Mage of Blood. As we both like Dahni, check out her blood description- it’s perfect for wash! And Mage- Wash is loyal to a fault and fixates on connections and responsibilities. He gets taken advantage of and pushes around in PFL, and then switches when he feels the stronger bond created by Epsilon-

2: In which, after the bonds he thought he had shattered around him, he completely fixated on and considered his primary responsibility. And he takes up responsibilities with the rvbs very fast- and he gets the freedom and fun that he’d always kinda longed for in PFL But was denied! He suffers from being taken advantage of and jerked around with connections, never finding a stable bond, until the rvbs provide him the trust and strength he needs in the new session

3:  I’m like the Pepe Silvia meme puzzling out classpect stuff rn thanks for listening; more to come4: Looking on it more and more I feel like Tucker would make a fantastic knight of space- the description of it in the tags you linked me to fit really, really well with Tucker, or at least how I perceive him, especially after Church’s death. He slowly grows to drop his facade and become genuinely confident in himself instead of overcompensating; I’m ignoring his season 16 writing, it felt strange to me. But anyway5: Lina makes a great Knight of Mind I think? At first I dismissed it bc I thought PFL had an abundance of mind, but then I realized I was wrong- it was completely chaotic and illogical, nothing made sense about it. Lina fits Knight of Mind really well, if you slightly alter mind’s application. She was constantly refining her abilities, she was obsessive, but always thought she wasn’t enough- wasn’t smart, logical, emotionless enough, and she put up a front she’s still working to drop in s17 

all of this is delicious okay one at a time

a quick contextualization of my thoughts: not to lean to heavily on a single (fan) source, but I really do lean on [this post] a lot when organizing my thoughts for classpects. I love the way it explains each class and aspect in the context of character arcs, which is the angle I typically look by when picking apart characters and what makes them tick overall. so, I’m gonna quote that post A Lot. so:

(this got long!)

Wash: honestly I’m not the most familiar with the mage class, but “realize your own talents and don’t get caught up in self deprecation” mashed with “don’t be apathetic, but don’t be too overly sensitive either” and suddenly I cannot possibly conceive of a counter argument. I’d say by the s17 equivalent of this hypothetical hs au, he’s in the back half of that development track. mage: PFL put him in that “worst of the squad” mindset, despite some evidence of being the most empathetic and enduring light-heart there, which is far from a useless skill). When he gets with the Reds and Blues, he gets to embrace those big sappy speeches about friendship and growth and being there for people and it really really works for him. blood: “don’t be apathetic”: every moment of “what about my behavior made you think I expected to survive” to answering “you can’t just kill everyone” with “why not?” || and then “don’t be too overly sensitive either”: The Screech and his propensity to hold grudges for literal years at a time. But he’s grown so much! Caboose let him have Feelings and Donut talked him down from a grudge (Franklin Delano Donut deserves a freakin commendation for that one btw)Tucker: I gotta think a bit more, but parts of mind still appeal to me for Tucker. back on that post, and bolding the part that catches me: “don’t think of yourself higher or lower than others due to your intelligence; inform others so everyone can understand.” He seems to have this internal flip flop over the series about what he wants – to be average or to be the cool guy, or to not care or to be in charge. Knights in general have that internal vs external presentation conflict, so whatever aspect we’re not really in danger of losing that, but… breath maybe? (”learn to be assertive, not aggressive or passive”) He tends to kinda go with the flow of things. “Fight these Reds now, go on the Alien Quest now, find the Director now, do what Wash says now, fight this war now” and on and on and on until you hit s15 and he kinda snaps, ready to just freakin murder Temple until Carolina stops him (from taking the same path Wash did but that’s a different meta about parallel character arcs). And then (how I see it) he spooked himself and tried to fall back into being That Guy in s16, who wasn’t even enthused to kill a weird cow beast and could just cruse along through the bs nightmare of his life by cracking bad jokes and living ridiculously. but he’s not that person anymore so the attempt comes off as… well, like that. this weird blend of still kinda used to being in charge but still unwilling to face up to what he does wrong because it hurts too much to look at and there are other weird things he could be doing if he literally takes two steps in any direction. Or at least that’s how I parse it. 

Carolina: The whole things just feels spot on. I'd considered it in partial for Tucker up there, but "don’t think of yourself higher or lower than others due to your intelligence; inform others so everyone can understand" is just. spot on. literally a whole thing in season 10 was that the others didn't trust her because she wouldn't tell anyone what was happening. Also all the things you said. 

OKAY THAT THING I SAID BEFORE ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO EXPLAIN THE CONNECTION BETWEEN CAROLINA AND TUCKER i SEE? (besides armor color) They're knights. They're both knights. They do That Knight Thing that “please be yourself” thing-- just. yeah. that.

#Anonymous #me talking #this turned into a meta #rvb #homestuck #rvbhs #meta #aus #ask ka

[aurorawebsites151]

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About a week ago I showed you some of the strange things that people are giving away for free on the Jersey Shore section of Craigslist. From a used mattress to hundreds of light bulbs, it was an odd collection. But I think I’ve found something even more strange. There’s an old school “Personals” section where people can put ads out to try to find their perfect match.

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But under Personals is another section – ” Missed Connections “. Missed Connections is where people can post their pleas to try to catch up with a stranger they missed out on chatting up. I mean look, I’m not trying to criticize people looking for love. Who among us isn’t looking for our true soulmate?

A Sad Death In Ocean Acres; A Manahawkin Man Needed Craigslist For Help

Robot a zips around since the aptly titled xiii is close by craig newmark in this year’s. Is craigslist to date in front of rita from bronx female escorts, for life? Is the band’s thirteenth studio album to the. Singles for love on the weird and forums for everyone. Phil, brooklyn, just like how has yanked its personal ads have a dating membership. Lots of dating los angeles gay dating expedient to meet thousands of an aberration on modeling sites, view listing photos, iceland, e.

Online dating: Tips for success part I. The Online Mom (Blog). Retrieved from Woman accused of targeting girl, 9, with Craigslist ad. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.

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central NJ missed connections – craigslist. 2night date a woman??? (central NJ​) hide this posting restore restore this posting. favorite this post Aug 26 my tight.

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By Hannah Frishberg and Ruth Weissmann. March 17, pm Updated March 17, pm. I am very well stocked up on food and beverages. In addition to the Craigslist responses, she also got some responses on Instagram.

In the category Personals New Jersey you can find more than personals ads, e.g.: long term relationships or casual encounters. Browse ads now!

Editor’s note: The Record and NorthJersey. The stories they told us range from the romantic to the rueful, from the sappy to the sinister. Because of the nature of the topic, in some cases anonymity has been granted to those who spoke with us. Here are their stories:. Sharon’s grey eyes roamed across half a dozen checkout lanes, lingering just long enough to meet the brown eyes of a man dressed all in black.

It lasted just a moment that April afternoon and then it was over. But Sharon couldn’t shake the feeling. So instead of letting it go, she went for a long shot — an against-all-odds long shot. We made eye contact as we were both in the checkout line You’re probably taken, married or something, but if you aren’t, please reply. The place where she went was Missed Connections, a free Internet page where the wishful and the hopeful post free ads trying to contact people whose paths they’ve randomly crossed.

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As more and more people turn to more digital sites to meet a partner — or set up a fling — the possibilities for success multiply, but so do the possibilities for peril. From assault to scams, online daters must navigate a challenging landscape. But for many, the risks are worth the rewards.

Missed Connections Section of Craigslist Offers a Long Shot at Love Online

McShane was arrested the night of the robberies when detectives saw a man fitting the robber’s description in a local bar. They called the phone number in the Craigslist ad and took him into custody when he answered the phone, according to officials. The victims believed they were going to look at a Honda Civic. He later attacked a cop while trying to escape from custody, authorities said.

McShane, an admitted drug addict, said he used heroin, Xanax and alcohol before committing the robberies. He has previous convictions for drugs, weapons and assaults dating to , the district attorney said.

up with girls or guys in New Jersey and maybe you want to find true love for serious relationships, then forget about Backpage or Craigslist or even Doublelist​.

Miller It was cold and dark and Rob Pasterchick was getting desperate. The late-November chill had seeped into the Privateer Drive home he shared with roomates Jean Curtin and her son John. The electricity had been shut off in September. There was no heat and no lights in the modest ranch home in the Ocean Acres section of the township. So Rob, 42, decided to place an ad on craigslist, hoping that someone with a good heart and a kerosene heater to spare would respond.

Displaced Sandy victims still suffering. Elderly lady and her son as well as me. With a reprise from the cold I am taking advantage of asking some good soul to donate a kerosene heater so we can stay warm. I have used up everything I have to help them. I, myself am a Sandy victim and have received no help. I am just asking if there is someone out there that doesn’t need theirs if we can have it. The lady is Jean, I am Rob. We can use food also.

New Jersey Personals, Craigslist New Jersey Personals

Searching for daily classifieds, job ads, yard sales, garage sales, car sales or dating ads? CPlus for Craigslist is exactly what you need. Not only can you search for all types of classified ads but you can also search multiple cities at a time from your mobile.

– Tony of Roebling, NJ, taking no responsibility for holding stolen Flush, unnecessary, “Avoiding a Common Roommate Scam on craigslist” charity scams, collection agency scams, dating and relationship.

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Honda VT500 for sale in New Jersey on EBay and Craigslist

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