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count-woe-laf · 3 years

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You can’t spell stargaze without gays

I write? Since when? Yes I’m aware the title makes no sense, I’m uncreative. This was supposed to be a late birthday present for @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink but it’s super late now, I still enjoyed writing it and planning it with her, I hope you’re having a great day, Silver. I’m sorry I got science facts wrong and I don’t know how to end things or how normal people talk

Logan and Virgil are hopeless pining gay idiots with horrible communication skills, but they’re working on it. (Romantic analogical, very background royality and platonic dukeceit.) 1850 words

"Bring me a diet coke!" Virgil called to Roman as he ran out of the truck, through the gravel parking lot, and towards the bright 7/11.

Logan let out a small laugh from next to him. "You know he's going to spend an hour flirting with the cashier and forget."

"Yeah I know, it's fine. Surprising that he's moved up from panicking around Patton to flirting with him, that's what I call character development."

"Character development that's gone on for ten too many seasons."

"True. But while he's in there I have more time to spend with you," Virgil replied with a smirk, Logan's cheeks reddening.

"You all are disgusting," called Remus from the backseat.

"I agree," Janus sighed. "Though I can do many things, understanding allos is not one of them."

"Then get out of my truck," Virgil jokingly glared into the rearview mirror.

"It's Roman's truck-" Logan started, Virgil shifted his glare towards him. "Ok yeah, get out."

"Think we can find bigfoot, Jan?"

"We're only half an hour away from the city, try again," but Janus let himself be dragged out into the nearby forest.

Logan and Virgil were left alone, thoughts of what had gone on the past week between them running through their heads. The hand brushes, the late night phone calls, the hoodies, the excessive amount of feelings that for once, neither of them minded. There was always more to say though.

"You can see lots of stars from out here," Virgil commented rather nervously. "You should come outside with me and look at them."

It was an offering just for Logan. He was the only one allowed to stargaze with Virgil while others were flirting in a 7/11 and being chaotic in a forest. Logan and Virgil in the bed of a truck staring at the night sky. ...Well, one of them was looking at the stars.

"You know to stargaze you actually have to look at them, right? You can just look at me, V."

"Who's saying you're not a star? 'Cause you definitely are, love."

"Love?" Logan tilted his head towards Virgil's red face.

"Uh-" Virgil looked away quickly. "What is that constellation? It looks like a spoon."

"Do you seriously not know? That's the big dipper, it's part of the constellation ursa major."

"You're the science-y one here, how would I know?" Logan just sighed. "You should keep talking though, I love your voice."

"Oh… Well that's the northern star…"

"Why is it called that?"

"Um, it's the most northern star, I believe astronomers base things off of it."

Virgil snoted, "wow. Star dudes sure are creative."

Logan looked over, an indescribable emotion on his face. "Pardon me, but did you just call astronomers, 'star dudes'?"

Virgil stared back, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Star. Dudes."

"...I will defenestrate you."

"Oh?"

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Yeah," Virgil said. "It means you pick me up and I get to simp over your muscles."

"It also means I throw you out of a window."

"I'll take what I can get." Logan let out a fond sigh. "Ok 'cause your constellations are boring and factual- don't worry I still love them- but I'm telling stories now."

"You're going to kill me."

"In your dreams, babe."

"What's that supposed to-"

"Over there is Elenor, it kinda looks like a bunny, I know. Their boyfriend is Jesse over there-"

"Virgil I swear, I'm leaving you in the forest." Logan's words gave a much different meaning when he was struggling to keep in his laugh.

Virgil chucked. "Oh Logan, so naive, there's so much more. Those three stars? Yeah they're Bo Peep's sheep."

Logan choked, the statement taking him by surprise. "Excuse me? You can't just…"

"Y'know, from Toy Story? Doesn't she have three sheep or something? I swear that was a plot point in one of the movies."

"The threat of being thrown out of a window still stands, Virge."

"Good, now that star over there…"

"Her name is Jennifer, she got a constellation for making the best bean salad."

Virgil tried to hold in a laugh. "And what did you say that one was?"

Logan was so enamoured with Virgil's laugh that he almost didn't notice him intertwining their fingers. Almost. He still had to take a breath to regain his nearly non-existent composure. Although fifteen minutes couldn't have passed, Logan could tell that it was a good decision to accept Roman's offer for a fake road trip.

"That guy with the belt?" Logan continued. "He was the first person to invent clothes. Quite the fashion icon for his time."

"Oh yeah?" Virgil giggled and Logan's heart stuttered in his chest.

"Yeah, he was also the only straight man in his village. It was very controversial." Virgil hummed in response, trying to calm his laughter.

"We're pretty controversial."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We're lying in the bed of Roman's truck, well past midnight and the city limits, looking at stars. Janus and Remus are probably lost in the forest and Roman and Patton have probably gotten over their gay panic and are planning their wedding together."

"I'm not sure how that's controversial, but it is interesting that we've achieved nothing compared to them." Logan's eyes drifted back to the stars.

"I think not getting lost is a plus." He made a noise of agreement. "And uh… I know we're not as vocal about stuff like the others but… Dating you wouldn't be bad." It came out more like a question, causing Logan to look back at him.

"Fuck- I mean-" Virgil ran a hand down his face. "It would actually be really really nice if I could be your boyfriend because- ugh stop staring at me like that! It's just that you're really great and nice to be around and to talk to and I can't imagine you not being in my life. A-and I know we've been kinda sorta dating but you know how dumb we both are about romance and all that stuff- oh god this is romance, I can't believe that…

"I just really like you, Logan and I need to make sure you know that."

Virgil's words swirled into the air, into the sky, into that great expanse of stars and light.

They laid there and stared at the stars, thinking, considering, and a fair amount of staring on Logan's side.

He couldn't help it, really. He couldn't stop his eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, his bitten lips, the words that previously escaped them were still spinning through Logan's head. And Virgil's hair, his adorably messy hair that was usually hanging in front of his eyes, was pushed to the side, Logan could see a galaxy reflected in his beautiful eyes.

Virgil was his galaxy, his sun, his stars. He had kept him sane through years of school. He constantly went out of his way just to brighten Logan's day a little bit more, and brighten he did.

Virgil meant everything to him and he'd be damned if he went home tonight without showing him that.

"Didn't… Didn't you say you always wanted to go stargazing with your partner?"

"Uhh, yeah." Virgil replied hoarsely.

"I suppose you get to cross that off your list, then." Logan wondered how he suddenly had some semblance of smoothness to his words.

"Oh."

The stars seemed awfully bright that night, especially in the way they reflected off Virgil's freckles.

"Is… Is that a shooting star?" Virgil lifted his free hand, tracing the bright line across the map of stars.

"There's no such thing as shooting stars." Virgil rolled his eyes. "But, I… do believe that's a satellite."

"Then make a wish."

"That's stupid and makes no sense, wishing on a satellite has no affect on my life."

"Just do it, my northern star."

Logan's red face was a reflection off the far away street lights, nothing else. "Am I supposed to tell you what I wished for?"

"Not really, but you can. I'd love to know what goes on in that brilliant head of yours."

"My head is empty, unfortunately." Virgil laughed, he did that quite a bit around him. "I wished that we'd have a good relationship. Apologizes, is that weird, or too soon? I… just mean that we're both terrible at communicating, I hope that we can improve together as a couple."

“Oh."

Although Virgil may not have realized it, Logan noticed as he lightly brushed his thumb over his hand. It was stupidly endearing and soft, just as Virgil was.

"That's probably the cutest thing anyone's ever said that slightly regards me."

"Glad I can be of service, darling."

"So darling is what you go with?"

"Would you prefer something else?"

"...No. If I can call you my boyfriend you can call me whatever you want." Virgil smiled. "…You're my boyfriend. That's nice to say."

"It is. I wonder how I stumbled upon a boyfriend as good as you."

"You- you need to stop doing that," Virgil blushed.

"I'm not doing anything!" Logan shifted closer to him, for heating purposes of course, it was a little chilly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know full well."

"Do I really, Virgil?"

"Shut up and look at the stars."

"Make me."

"Logan I swear-"

"Fine, fine, I will." Virgil mumbled thanks under his breath. "But they aren't as pretty as you."

Virgil let out a noise, a mix between a screech and a cough. There was no way he was showing Logan how fluttery his words made his heart feel. (Although he felt it was common knowledge among them.)

"There's around twenty minutes until the others get back, that's twenty minutes to mess with you."

"I'm already regretting this, Lo."

"As you should, my love."

Yes, their friends may have interrupted their stargazing a few minutes later. Yes, Roman may have forced Patton to leave his shift early resulting in one too little seats and an angry boss. Yes, they may have almost ran out of gas on the way home. Yes, they may have bought fries as Janus looked for a gas station. Yes, they may have fallen onto the floor seconds later. Yes, Remus may have jumped out of the car afterwards because he said it looked fun and almost sprained his ankle. And yes, Roman did have to explain the situation five times to his parents because they couldn't stop laughing about all the shenanigans they got into that night.

Still, Virgil's arm stayed around Logan's waist like it was the most casual thing in the world. Still, they shared a milkshake once everyone had given up on the fallen fries. Still, they were both filled with such a bright happiness that it was impossible to drag them down. And maybe they fell asleep on a video call that night. Or maybe Logan stayed over and they woke up with their limbs tangled in each other's, feeling content and appreciative of the other as they slowly woke up. Honestly, who's to say? It was just a good night.

#analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #hope y'all enjoyed this because I'm kinda proud of it #love you sil #ts logan #ts virgil #also yeah i have a taglist tell me if you want to be added #pen throws away a pen

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gaylotusthatexists · 4 years

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undesirable

pairing: platonic dlampr ig? focused more on platonic logicality

summary: Logan realises that the others don’t give him physical affection as much as they do for everyone else, and conducts an experiment in order to make himself more ‘desirable’.

trigger warnings: sympathetic janus and remus, touch starvation, negative self talk, please let me know if i need to add anything else

word count: 3233

a/n: so this idea came to me due to this thread with @5-falsehoods-phonated so i wrote this entire thing in one go last night. logan bby i am sorry. i hope y’all enjoy~

ao3

Patton hugged him today, for... the first time in a while, Logan was pretty sure. He couldn't remember that last time he was physical with any of the other sides, preferring to keep his distance, not really feeling like he needed it. Studies had shown that physical affection was important in a human's development, and he knew how important physical affection was to Thomas himself, how people... enjoyed it? Logan wasn't human, though - he never really considered that he'd need it, that he'd want it.

Did he want it? It had felt nice, warm, comforting when Patton had hugged him earlier. Why had Patton hugged him again? Patton had been... excited, Logan was pretty sure. He thought that Logan's idea had been good, and in turn given him a hug to display that... happiness? And it hadn't been terrible, Logan supposed. Startling at first, of course, and he hadn't been quite sure on how to respond, wasn't sure what the proper hugging etiquette was. That was kind of concerning - did he really have so little hugs that he didn't even know how to react when someone gave him one? Surely he should know what to do with that. Surely he should have known how much physical touch burned, in a... good way.

He wanted to hug Patton again, but wasn't quite sure how to initiate it. Just asking for a hug would seem uncharacteristic of Logan - Patton would assume something was wrong, which wasn't true, of course, but Logan wouldn't know what to tell him. He'd hugged him after he explained his idea, so maybe just having good ideas was the way to go? But Logan put his ideas forward all the time, and they had never received that kind of response. In fact, it wasn't even his best idea, so...

Logan scooted over to his computer and opened a word document, beginning to type down his ideas for a new experiment. An attempt to figure out how physical affection worked, why it felt so good, and how he was to get it. He felt... stupid, as he typed up his hypothesis, his brain telling him he was pathetic for even wanting that, but his arms were cold and he was desperate to feel that heat again, he needed this.

~*~

Day one. Logan had stayed up late the night before, researching why people formed relationships, what it was about people that made other people want to touch them. He hadn't found any solid advice, nothing real - all just stuff about feelings, things that he didn't, couldn't understand. So instead, he decided to take the day to observe the others in action, figure out what made them initiate hugs or the like. Perhaps if he could document the behaviours and attempt to imitate them, people would find him more 'desirable' to engage with.

He hadn't realised before just how much the others touched each other. It seemed like everywhere he looked, someone was touching another. Roman and Virgil curled up on the sofa watching movies, Patton and Janus making cookies in the kitchen with their shoulders touching. Why was it that whenever Logan did those activities, everyone kept their distance? He occasionally would watch documentaries with Virgil, those David Attenborough ones that Virgil said helped to 'calm' him, but Virgil had never tried to cuddle Logan on those nights. And then when Logan cooked dinner with Patton or Janus, they always stayed on their own side of the kitchen, nowhere near close enough to just casually touch.

That got him thinking - was there something wrong with Logan himself? Was it something about him that just... made the others not want to go near him?

Perhaps Logan needed to change a lot more than just his behaviour, if that was the case.

From his spot on the couch, he looked over at Remus and Janus standing by the stairs, Remus telling some sort of joke. Janus started laughing, and placed a hand on Remus' shoulder. They got closer and closer until they were hugging, and Logan felt... something, deep in his chest. Anger? Sadness?

Jealousy?

No, no, Logan had never been jealous before, had he?

He looked away, glancing into the kitchen. Virgil sat on the side with his legs swinging back and forth, and Patton stood between them, his arms wrapped around Virgil's waist. They looked happy, which just made Logan feel awful. Then he looked at Roman on the sofa with him, shuffled all the way to the other side, eyes fixed on the tv screen, not even thinking about Logan. Which just filled Logan with... rage.

Logan stood up and stormed upstairs, pushing past Remus and Janus and, in doing so, brushing against Remus' hand. He loved it. He wanted to reached down and grip Remus' hand tight, twist their fingers together, but... he couldn't. He ignored the concerned stares from the others as he went into his room, slamming his door shut.

~*~

Logan tried to research more, but all the stuff he could find was on abstract emotions, things that didn't quite make sense and Logan couldn't just do. So, he decided to try a different strategy. From the parts of the research he did understand, he had gathered that people tended to be physical with those they found attractive, so perhaps if Logan made himself appear more attractive, the other sides would be more inclined to perform physical acts with him.

What was it about a person that made them attractive?

Logan tried to think about who he found attractive, but that proved to be difficult. He then tried to think about who Thomas found attractive, but that wasn't much help, as Thomas himself didn't look much like any of his celebrity crushes. Logan supposed he could always shape-shift, but that seemed... wrong, manipulative, like he was tricking the others. No, no, he needed a different approach.

Maybe he needed to be more like what the others found attractive?

Humming, Logan grabbed his recorder and left his room, heading down into the commons. An interview would be a good idea, valuable to his research. Who to interview, though...

Patton was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. None of the others were in sight. Okay, Patton it was.

~*~

Interview One. Date: July Seventeenth. Subject: Patton Sanders.

Uh, do you have to-

The recording is important evidence for my research, Patton.

...okay. What exactly are you researching?

I can't tell you that, or the data may come out false. This needs to be unbiased.

Alright then. Be quick, though. I need to keep an eye on the cooking.

Of course. Question one: on a physical level, what do you find attractive in another person?

...

Answer the question, please, Patton.

Uh, I don't know. Everyone is beautiful in their own way.

Yes, but is there anything specific?

I don't know. I like people who can make me laugh?

...that isn't a physical quality.

Well, the 'physical qualities' don't really matter that much. I mean, I guess there are some people I find prettier than others, but really it's the personality that matters more.

Hmm. Interesting.

Why are you asking this?

I told you before, it's for science.

Do you... need to talk?

No, Patton, I'm-

You look rather pale, are you okay?

I- I think I'll end the interview here.

~*~

That had been a complete waste of time, Logan realised. Personality? How was Logan supposed to change his personality? He could easily make himself more physically attractive, it was fairly simple to alter one's body or change their hair style, or, in Logan's case, shape-shift into the perfect man, but... changing his personality in general was a lot more difficult.

And... it got him thinking, sent his mind to places he'd rather not go. Was he really that undesirable? Just because of the way he was as a person? Did Patton rarely give him affection because he just hated him so much?

Something wet dripped down Logan's cheek. Frowning, he looked up, but saw no signs of a leak or any water above. And he wasn't sweating or anything, so...

Was that a tear? That didn't sound right. Logan had never cried before. And he wasn't sad, was he?

Perhaps he just needed a different test subject. Chances were, Patton was just an anomaly. He must be able to get more concise, useful data somewhere else, right?

~*~

Interview Two. Date: July Eighteenth. Subject: Roman Sanders.

Can we make this quick? Thomas really needs my help with this new video idea-

Of course, I only have a few questions. Firstly: what do you find most important, appearance or personality?

Uhh... that kinda depends? Are we talking about what I look for in a romantic partner?

...sure, if you want to think of it that way.

Well, appearance obviously plays a big part, although if I don't like someone as a person I'm not going to get in a relationship with them, you know?

So, what you're saying is they're... equally important?

Yeah, I guess.

Huh. Alright, second question: what do you find physically attractive in a guy?

Oh! Oh, there's... actually a lot, there. The eyes are what I first look at, usually. And the hair. Oh, and muscles! Big strong lads are great. But not, like, aggressively muscular. Like, a soft side is nice too. Fashion is a big thing as well, I guess. Like, guys in crop tops? Amazing. Tanks tops as well - it's the arms, I think.

Interesting. So... a fit person?

Sure. I mean, it's not super important, but like if someone clearly frequents the gym, they've caught my eye, y'know?

Alright. Thank you. Uh, final question: what do you find attractive in someone's personality, if anything?

...hmm. Well, someone who shares the same interests, I suppose. Y'know, someone I can talk to. Good humour. Confidence.

Confidence?

Yeah. Like, I like it when a person knows what they're doing, when it seems as though they aren't afraid of anything.

Oh.

Is there any reasons for these question?

No, no reason in particular. Just... for science.

~*~

It had been several weeks since his conversation with Roman, during which Logan had been working out every day, using Roman's old gym in the Imagination, mostly running on the treadmill and lifting weights - weights more often, as Roman had stressed the important of arms. He'd also talked to a couple of the others, who had essentially given the same opinions as Roman - in particular, Virgil had gone on about how a sense of style helped, and Remus had explained more about the muscle situation.

Nothing much had seemed to change, though. Logan had attempted to change how he presented himself, even taking off his tie some days in an attempt to make himself look less serious. He had considered investing in some crop tops, but couldn't imagine himself wearing anything not tucked in, so that idea was quickly abandoned. Then he thought about stealing some of Remus' tank tops - and even had, briefly, only to discover that he just looked uncomfortable, plus he had begun to smell like Remus which was certainly less than desirable. He'd even tried walking around shirtless one morning, but that had only earned him a couple of weird stares, confusion, concern.

He'd experimented more and more with his appearance, changing his hair style every few days, wearing different coloured contacts in his eyes, even wearing makeup a few times to see if that did anything. But still nothing. The other sides still kept far, far away from him, just like they always did. He didn't understand what he was doing wrong.

It did occur to him a few times that he could just ask the others to give him a hug. Patton would probably comply, even if it was just out of pity. But then that wouldn't prove anything, wouldn't change anything. And there was always the chance that they'd say no, and... Logan wasn't sure if he could handle that. He already suspected that the others thought he was undesirable, but hearing it would be different. Strange, he'd never been afraid of rejection before.

~*~

Date: August Fifth. Subject: Patton Sanders. Objective: physical affection.

I am aware that this is a bad idea, but it is pivotal to my research that I at least attempt. Worst case scenario, Patton explains that he's too busy, and we never have to speak of this again. Best case scenario, I finally get that 'hug' that I've been... craving? I believe that's the word, although I will make a note here to look it up later. I am now approaching the kitchen, where Patton is preparing dinner alone. My recorder will be placed in my pocket, as holding it may make the experiment more troublesome, I hope the audio will not be too muffled.

Oh, hey Logan!

Good evening, Patton. I'm...

Are you alright?

Yes, of course. I'm just- doing that experiment still, and need more data.

Oh, of course! Do you have more questions? I just put our food in the oven, so I have time to talk if you want to.

Um, it's- I don't really need to ask any more 'questions', per se, just...

...what is it, Logan? You look nervous, do you-

I'm fine. I- [deep breath] Would you be willing to engage in... physical contact, with me? A, uh... y'know-

...are you asking me to hug you?

Yes. If- If that's okay with you. If not, that's fine, but it would helpful for my research. Although I- I can leave, if you want me to, of course. It's- I have enough verbal data to complete the experiment regardless.

...

Logan, can I... Can I ask you something, instead?

Uhm, yeah, sure.

What exactly is your experiment about?

...

Logan?

I have to go.

~*~

Logan laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and hugging himself, clutching on tightly to his shoulders. He couldn't stop himself from crying, and he didn't know why, didn't understand what was going on with him. It wasn't as though Patton had rejected him. Just... maybe he was beginning to realise just how stupid this whole experiment was. It wasn't as if he could force the others to like him. He should've just asked in the first place, then... then maybe it wouldn't have gone this far.

He didn't understand what he was doing wrong. He'd tried everything he could think of, but nothing worked. He'd tried every combination of different appearances, tried to act differently around different people - more confident in front of Roman, more sensitive in front of Virgil, more friendly in front of Patton. Still, nothing. Nothing had changed, and nothing was going to change. This had all been a waste.

Logan took out his recorder and listened back to his logs, to the interviews, to his two am rambles, trying to figure out if there was anything that he was missing, any detail he'd forgotten about. Then he moved to his laptop and scrolled through his document, checked through all of his data, all of his calculations, but still couldn't find a single thing wrong. Perhaps he just needed to admit the fact that he was undesirable, unloveable. There was nothing that could change that, nothing that could make him better.

This was fine. It wasn't as if he needed it - he'd gone on this long without it before, he could cope with never having it at all. Couldn't really miss what he'd never had.

~*~

Date: August Seventh. Subject: ...I'm not sure yet. Logan Sanders, possibly? Or everyone. We'll see how this goes. Objective: ...I don't know.

I haven't left my room since the encounter with Patton in my last recording, although have been communicating with the others via text. They have asked me to join them in the commons for a talk. What this is about, I have no idea, but I will record it just in case, for future reference.

...

Logan!

Good evening, Patton. (I am now sitting down on the couch. All five other sides are here, and they look... concerned?)

What are you doing with that?

I'm just recording this conversation for future reference. You know, the experiment and all.

Yeah, about that. I- We'd like to talk to you about that.

You... would? (Patton seems to be taking charge of the conversation, but the others are all staring at me, intensely.)

I- I did ask the other day and you didn't respond but... what is the experiment about? We're... all a little worried, in all honesty.

(Interesting.) Why are you worried?

... You've been acting weirdly recently, Logan. You have to admit that.

(He's not wrong. That was a fear when I first started the experiment. Perhaps I should start again.)

Logan, can you stop talking to your recorder and just... listen to us? Tell us what's wrong?

There isn't anything wrong. I told you, this is all purely for science.

What's the experiment about?

I... (I'll have to start the experiment over again anyway, as it so clearly failed. New test subjects with therefore be required. Due to this, there is nothing wrong with telling everybody now.) I realised that... out of all six of us, you guys seem to come to me the least for acts of physical affections, if you come to me at all, so I wanted to understand why, and attempt to change myself to better fit to your standards required for wanting to participate in physical relationships with others. I... was attempting to make myself more 'compatible', I guess. More desirable.

...

...Patton?

...

Patton, are you crying? Did I say something wrong?

...Logan, can you turn off the recording?

~*~

Logan sat in the middle of the couch, with the other five surrounding him, engulfing him in a 'cuddle pile', as Patton had called it. It was nice, he decided. Warm. He wasn't quite sure what he was meant to do, but was grateful for the warmth of skin to skin contact, for the safety he felt as the others wrapped their arms around him. Why had he never done this before? Was it that he never wanted to, or... was it that he never asked?

Patton had tried to explain that they all tried to keep their distance from Logan because they thought that was what he wanted, that he'd be uncomfortable with hugs all the time. Logan had tried to explain back that, yes, in the past he hadn't quite understood the appeal of physical affection, but had since began to 'crave' it, to want it more than anything. Patton had asked why he hadn't just asked the others to hug him, and Logan had answered that he didn't know how to ask, or didn't want to sound desperate. Then Patton had reassured him that there was nothing wrong was wanting to be touched, and that he didn't need to be afraid to ask for it if he needed that. He'd told Logan that there was nothing Logan needed to change about himself - they all liked him just the way he was.

The experiment had been... successful, in a roundabout way. He'd achieved physical affection, at least? Although all that research had been for nothing. It wasn't as though he hadn't learned anything, though. He learned that... it was okay to ask, it didn't make him weak or pathetic or desperate. He wasn't undesirable. And the others weren't going to let go.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #platonic dlampr #touch starvation #my writing #my fanfic

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

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The Bidding of the Prince Twins: Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 2 ~

Pairings: (vague/qpr) Loceit, eventual Analoceit

Word count: 2,977

Story summary: Virgil finds himself being held hostage in an unknown location. His two suspected captors seem to care for him more than any strangers should, especially strangers who kidnapped him. But were they really the ones who kidnapped him? That aside, Virgil also can't shake the feeling that there's something familiar about them. He just can't pin-point what it is. As time passes, the layers of lies the three of them are caught in are gradually peeled away, one by one.

General CW: U!Roman, U!Remus, food, kidnapping, implied Stockholm Syndrome, moderate to severe amnesia, swearing, sexual innuendos, graphic descriptions of gore/violence/scarring, minor character d-aths, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, non-graphic descriptions of needles (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food mentioned, minor amnesia, kidnapping hostage, swearing, non-graphic description of anxiety attack, non-graphic description of a needle (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author Notes: <none>

...

Virgil winced, squinting sharply as a blinding white light was trained on his face. A giant light getting forced into someone's face would be jarring under any circumstances, but it was especially so considering he had previously been engulfed in an almost equally jarring darkness. He'd also just awoken from an unexpected stint of disorienting unconsciousness.

He felt a presence behind the light, and the edges of hair tufts caught bits of light from behind the cone of death that was focused on him. The figure was clearly tall, and though Virgil was seated, he could easily tell that if he weren't, this person would probably be a head taller than him at the very least. He tried to twist his wrists in the several zip-ties that had them bound together behind his back, as well as to a rod running up the center of the back of his chair. He clenched his jaw, looking down as the light sent a shock-wave of pain through his eyes.

"Virgil Black." A stern monotone voice came from where he'd seen the shiny bits of hair before. It's familiarity wasn't striking, but it had a relatively calming effect on Virgil's nerves, so his mind didn't feel the need to follow that train of thought.

"That's me, man," He tried, voice coming out slightly hoarse. "Mind explaining why the fuck you've got me tied up in this interrogation basement? Last I checked I'm not involved in any CIA bullshit," He sneered. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone pushing a chair out and standing sounded somewhere to his right, behind the first figure. Someone else was there too. A step or two sounded as the second entity vaguely came toward Virgil. Great, two assholes to shake off.

"Very funny." A deeper voice came, much snarkier than the first. Virgil felt his spine tingle. This voice was oddly familiar as well, but he was still too out of sorts to try and figure out why.

"I apologize for the unsavory conditions, but it is imperative that our identities be kept classified for the time being. All we need is a minute amount of information, and we will be on our way." The first voice again. A very small clacking sound of plastic came from near the figure's face.

"Imperative to what?" Virgil hissed between clenched teeth, looking back up at the mysterious person. This time, he was able to pick out another feature; the light also caught what appeared to be the rim and lens of a pair of square prescription glasses. That explained the plastic clacking, he guessed. Virgil doubted they could be any other sort of glasses; it's possible that this person was a constantly-wearing-sunglasses type, but based on his brief time interacting with them, Virgil didn't really buy that. As well, some part of his intuition told him they were most certainly prescription, the same part that had noted the familiarity of both voices.

"That will also have to remain classified for now. But enough." The voice grew firm. Virgil tried to keep himself from swallowing audibly. "What are the most recent events that you remember, Virgil?"

He tried to think. "Well it's awful hard to recall anything with that giant light in my face, so can I have a minute to think? On top of that my memory is shit anyway because of my anxiety. Is that cool with you, thing 1 and thing 2?" A scoff came from Thing 2, seemingly off in the corner. Virgil hoped the half-hearted remark would keep them entertained as he tried twisting his ankles. They were tightly and securely duct taped to the legs of his chair, which was slowly cutting off his circulation. He felt his toes starting to grow cold and tingly. That meant he'd only been secured like this for a short amount of time, a couple minutes at most.

"By all means. Take your time." Still the first figure's voice, dripping with sincerity. Virgil detected what seemed to be a hint of remorse in their voice, as if they genuinely felt sorry, or at least uncomfortable with what they were doing. Virgil wondered why the second person was so evasive. He figured he'd try to provoke them into speaking again soon.

But for now, he had to think. What was the last thing he remembered? Before a throbbing headache, before the pitch black, before the sound of heavy rusty doors whining open and closed, and two sets of footsteps approaching him. He hadn't really registered them at the time; he'd been too disoriented, he guessed from some sort of anesthetic.

He tried to think back further. He pulled basic facts from his mind, hoping to jog his memory. He lived in New York, in a one-bedroom apartment with his roommate and best friend Patton. They'd fit two twin beds in their little bedroom. They were both Seniors at NYU. That started things off, at least. He spent a lingering moment recalling the cat they both took care of together. Her name was Natalie, and she was pitch black, each and every hair on her body a rich raven shade.

He knew Patton had planned to have a little get-together with some Psych major friends he had, and encouraged Virgil to bring some of his Techie buddies. They'd gone shopping for snacks last night.

He figured he'd start with that.

"Well, I remember Tuesday night for sure. Me and my roommate went grocery shopping. Getting snacks for a little get-together we were having. Not my idea, of course. I'm not a huge fan of parties, or-"

"We asked for your most recent memories, not your life story," drawled the second voice. Virgil smirked behind his bangs. "Will you get on with it already? Unless Tuesday night is really your most recent memory."

"As much as your- contributions - are appreciated, J, I am conducting this interrogation, and I'd prefer if you'd keep your snide comments to yourself for at least the first session," The first voice came again, hushed and sounding strained. Virgil clung to what little information he got from the comment. The second voice belonged to someone who could be identified as "J" apparently, and this was the first... session? Virgil had to set his mental notes aside for the time being though, since he had evidently not yet produced an adequate response. "My apologies, Virgil. My colleague is... rather, anxious, to... move things along. You may continue."

"No sweat. Sounds like J just needs a bit of a chill pill." Virgil smirked in the general direction he'd heard J's voice coming from. He was met with an almost disturbing silence. As expected. "Anyway. I remember shopping, and heading home, and... eventually sleeping. Ah, I guess I woke up a little late Wednesday morning, because I was rushing around and shit. My roommate looked kinda worried about it, but that's just how he is." Virgil paused for a moment. He wondered if these two mysterious figures knew about Patton and NYU and where he lived and everything, and considering he knew nothing about them or what they wanted from him, he wouldn't have been surprised. Regardless, he figured it would be best to keep things as anonymous as possible for the time being. "...Hmm. Then I think I rushed onto the bus. I think I caught it just before it was leaving. I got to, where I was going, and did what I was meaning to do, and then... I guess I headed home? I remember the thing I had to do, and finishing it, but... after that things get kinda foggy. I dunno." He paused again. A beat of silence. "Then again, I'll probably remember more in a few minutes. Especially if I'm not being literally slowly blinded." He finished, looking up at the figure behind the light with as large eyes as he could manage. The figure cleared their throat.

"Thank you Virgil. As well, there is no need for anonymity. We are fully aware of your roommate Patton, and the Economics lecture you nearly missed on Wednesday. However, your attempt at omission was... if nothing else, entertaining." Virgil scoffed under his breath. Even if his anxiety had predicted this just moments before, he was getting really freaked out now. It's never the same at all, imagining worst case scenarios and actually living them. The initial shock of this whole situation was wearing off, giving way to panic.

"At this time, in return all I can offer you is this. You are aware of the second man in your presence, I'm sure. For now you will know him as J, as you clearly caught on to rather quickly."

"He loves the witty ones," J's voice came this time directly from Virgil's left, and much closer than before. It took all of Virgil's self control not to flinch away. "So you'll entertain him well. He's L, by the way."

L cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you J. I shall be addressed as L. You will likely only see both of us at once. Perhaps on rare occasions we will each come in alone, but J and I are partnered, so that would likely do little more than impair our... performance."

"Partnered? Performance? What am I, a high school science project?" Virgil snickered bitterly. "My wrists are starting to hurt pretty fucking bad. This is pretty sketchy, L. I didn't fucking do anything wrong. Why am I here?" Virgil tried not to let the shrill breathiness overtake his voice too much, but the anxiety rising in his chest was far from merciful. He tried to calm himself internally, but that wasn't exactly working out.

"I can understand your frustrations," L replied, and the glint of his glasses shifted, the small plastic clacking sound coming again with it. Virgil realized it was just L adjusting his glasses, likely out of habit. "But, for your safety, I cannot give you a direct answer to any of those questions yet. Ah, except; no, you are not a high school science project." Virgil could practically taste the smirk on L's face. He wanted to spit at him. He wanted to tear himself out of the fucking zip ties and duct tape. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Listen, I get that you two are having a jolly good time fucking me up, but I'm," Virgil struggled, each word becoming harder to force out of his trembling mouth, "I'm kinda freaking out here." He hated the way his voice cracked then.

Virgil could see the glint of L's glasses shifting again, the tall man turning to look at his sarcastic counterpart. A short nod, and with a small clicking sound, the light was shut off.

Somehow, the room seemed darker than it had before. The change was so disorienting that Virgil couldn't pinpoint just where the sounds of shuffling of feet around him were coming from or going. No screeching metal door sounds came though, so he knew J and L had to be in the room with him still. His breathing was becoming very labored, and it overwhelmed him as the only sound he could hear. God, how he hated anxiety attacks.

"Virgil." J's voice came from directly in front of him - J was likely crouched to be on Virgil's level - and it was uncharacteristically silky smooth. He flinched that time, but was able to keep himself from hissing. He was only sure it was J's because of its specific inflections; there was no way this could be L, and there was certainly no fourth person in the room (he hoped). "I understand you are very disoriented right now, but the last thing we want to do is cause you an anxiety attack. My sincerest apologies for triggering the beginning of one. That aside, I need you to focus on your breathing. Nothing but your breaths and the sound of my voice."

His voice felt like butter melting, gliding across a hot pan and leaving a silky trail. Or maybe like warm honey running down flushed skin. Virgil was captivated, and thank fuck, because if it weren't for Fuck Face #2 over here, he doubted he would have been able to get out of this one so easily. So he focused, focused hard on the labored breaths he was huffing.

"Now, I need you to try to slow down. Just a little bit. Slow down for me. Feel the air filling and retreating in your lungs. Let it stay a little longer. Then, let it leave in a gentle skip instead of a frantic sprint." God, if Virgil wasn't Fucking Freaking Out right now, he'd probably be trying to flirt with Mr. Butter-tongue, considering the shivers going up his spine weren't only thanks to his panic disorder.

Gradually, he managed to slow down. It wasn't a straight path, but eventually he got there. J continued cooing sweet nothings to him as he came down before any sort of climax. He thanked the darkness for hiding his horridly hot face from his captors. He heard a slight creasing of fabric.

"All better?" J's smile was practically visible with the way he almost sweetly sneered those words. His voice came from higher up, so Virgil knew he must've stood once again. He just scoffed in a half-assed cover up.

"Sure, Fuck Face Number two." He tried rocking himself side to side in his chair, but it seemed to be attached to the floor. He groaned.

J tsked a few times. "Is that any way to talk to someone who just kept you from what would surely have been a horridly exhausting anxiety attack? Honestly. You ought to be more grateful, Virgil." Virgil was beginning to passionately hate the way J talked; so sassy and drawly, as if he thought he was some serious hot stuff. Virgil wanted to smack him something awful.

He heard soft receding footsteps, feeling J's presence recoil.

"So how does this work? Is someone gonna have to whip out my dick for me when I have to pee?" Virgil prodded at the void around him.

"Very funny, Virgil. No, you will soon be... enlightened, regarding your temporary living situation, so to speak." L's voice came again, finally, from slightly to the right. It was a lot less variant in tone than J's, and Virgil greatly appreciated the constancy.

He couldn't respond soon enough; he felt something pierce his skin on his left outer thigh. Warm breath teasing at skin behind his left ear was the last thing he remembered. "Go to sleep, V. We'll see you again very soon."

"Night night, J," He whispered, before the lights really went out.

...

Logan sighed, shrugging off his navy pinstriped suit jacket as he shut the door behind him. He held it by the collar in one hand, turning to survey the disheveled mess that the observation room had become over such a short period of time.

Piles and piles of paper were stacked high on the wall-to-wall desk, and stacked higher on the floor. The interrogation light - just an industrial Flashlight with a cone of metal wrapped around it's end to amplify it - had been discarded lazily in one corner. Janus was seated at said desk, slouched over himself on a fold-out metal chair, resting his chin on his palm as he looked out through the false mirror at a peacefully sleeping Virgil.

His hat was resting on a corner of the back of his chair, along with his gold-encrusted swallowtail coat. He looked a bit of a mess. His hair was fraying and splaying everywhere. His eyes looked tired, even if Logan could only see his one blind eye from this angle. The jagged scars that crept up his neck and covered the side of his face seemed paler than usual.

"Are you okay, Janus?" Logan inquired as neutrally as he could manage, sitting beside his friend.

Janus merely side-eyed Logan, in his all-knowing way. "I think you and I both know the answer to that question."

"Look, I know this method is-- well, disconcerting," Logan's words rushed out of his mouth as if they were being chased, "but we do not have another choice right now. We will get this over with soon... we will find a way to get through this." Logan cleared his throat and fidgeted with his tie. Janus considered rolling his eyes and responding snidely, but he knew Logan wasn't taking kindly to these new... circumstances either.

"We will." He settled on an attempt to be reassuring. Janus had always been good at that, or at least he'd been told so. He only wished it worked on himself too, especially now. Logan offered a small smile.

A long silence overtook them. They both simply sat side by side and observed their unconscious hostage. He was sprawled rather inelegantly across a deep grey satin bed, one arm wrapped in a death grip around a plush pillow. His leg stuck out haphazardly over the edge of the bed, and his hair was in worse shape than Janus' - which was saying something, since Janus' hair was notoriously wavy and curly and constantly out of sorts, while Virgil's was just straight. His mouth was slacked open, but he didn't snore. His eyebags were somehow visible under his black eyeshadow.

Logan broke the silence first. This normally would have dismayed Janus, but again, these were... unusual circumstances. "Well, he seems figuratively out cold for the time being. Shall we seek out some sustenance?" Logan shrugged his suit jacket back on. Janus didn't move a muscle.

"I'm not hungry right now. You go ahead, I'll make sure he doesn't wake up and start tearing out his hair or something." Janus' somber tone stole his voice's usual sarcasm. Logan rested a hand on his shoulder with a great softness.

"I'll grab you a little something. Try not to stress yourself out too much." With that, Logan set a water bottle on the desk beside Janus' elbow and left in near silence.

Janus heard a faint receding clicking as Logan walked away down the hall.

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im-actually-ok · 3 years

Text

Fangs

Chapter Six

First, Previous, Next

Masterlist

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Platonic DLAMPR, platonic? Logince

Word Count: 1452

Genre: Some fluffy silly supportive bois

Warnings: Fangs, very slight body horror(the fangs), wild animal, wolf, swearing, food, eating (i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know so i can add it, thank you!!!)

Roman blinked, looking at the other, blinking again and rubbing his eyes almost comically, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You have-” he motioned to his own mouth, not sure of the right words.

“Fangth? Yeth, I’m aware,” he sighed rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Does this have something to do with the um- the uh-” he then motioned to the hair.

“That’th the working theory, yeth,”

“And the lisp?”

“Mhm,”

“The meat??”

“Yeth,”

“The… uh….. The growling?...”

“I… believe so, yeth,”

“Do you know why??”

Logan sighed and shook his head, “currently, I do not,” he said, standing from his seated spot on the floor and walking over to his desk, motioning to the tools on his desk, “nothing I try workth, I can't get them to go away,”

Roman stood as well, walking over, “Have you tried just like, imagining them going away?” he asked and Logan gave him a deadpan look.

“/No/ Roman, I /definitely/ have /not/ tried that,”

“Well at least your sarcasm is getting better,”

“Thank you, Januth hath been helping me,”

“No problem, Microsoft nerd,” he said with a smile, “Ok, so, let's get a look at these chompers,” he said, taking Logan’s hand and and leading him over to the bed, sitting him down and standing in front of him, conjuring a small flashlight, “Alright, Pocket Protector, open wide,”

Logan rolled his eyes a little before opening his mouth, baring his teeth.

“Yikes, you've got quite the bite, huh? Have you been brushing properly since your last dental appointment?” Roman teased with a small smirk.

“Roman, /focuth/,”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, sorry,” he chuckled before shining the flashlight in, looking over the sharp fangs, “alright, from this I can see that you indeed… have fangs,”

“Roman you are absolutely no help at all.”

“What?? What do you expect? I’m not the smart one here!!”

“Well you are the expert on thap- thsa-” He couldn't manage to say ‘shapeshifting’ so he just said, “M-Managing to change your form,”

“Well I’ve never gotten stuck before,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’ll- uh- I’ll think on this, ok? I’ll help you with this, alright?” he said, sitting down next to him and wrapping an arm around the smaller side’s shoulders.

Logan sighed and leaned into him, resting his head on the other’s shoulder, “You won’t tell the otherth, right?” he asked softly.

“You don’t want them to know?”

“...no…”

“Then no, I won’t tell them.”

“Thankth, Ro,” he said, a small, shy toothy smile on his face.

“Of course,” he said with a grin, “I’m just glad you decided to trust me, and I promise we’re gonna figure this out,”

“Great, because I am so tired of eating just meat,”

“Heh, I bet.”

----

Roman had spent the rest of the night trying to figure it out, well, that is, until he fell asleep at his desk, he had only made it thirty minutes before falling asleep. The next day he excused himself from the discussion early to spend more time thinking on the night before.

The following night he returned to Logan’s room, same as always with a plate of chicken nuggets in his hand and the papers from his ‘research’ (Mostly drawings of Logan with fangs) in his mouth as he knocked on the door. There was no response.

Roman raised an eyebrow and knocked again, but once more there was no response. He took the papers out of his mouth to call, “Loooooooooggggggaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnn open the doooooooooooooooooooor,” before adding, “please, I broughtcha dinner,”

At this point he was… concerned. “Uhhhhhhhhh Lo im gonna come in, ok? Don’t freak out it’s just me,” He called as he moved, tucking the papers under his arm and resting his hand on the handle, turning it and pushing the door open. He walked in, closing the door behind him.

Looking around, the room was uncharacteristically messy for Logan, as it had been for the last couple weeks, but nothing looked really out of the ordinary. Roman’s eyes finally landed on the lump on the bed, under the covers and he laughed, rolling his eyes, “Still in bed, I never would have pegged you as one to sleep in this late, calculator watch,” He said, setting the chicken nuggets on the desk along with his papers before he plopped down on the bed, shaking the lump under the covers, “wakey wakey, sunshine,” he smiled.

A low growl came from the other as it shifted and Roman rolled his eyes, “come on, none of that, you know it's too late to be sleeping,” he said as he pulled the sheets off the other. But when he saw what was underneath, he gasped, startling backwards and falling off the bed before hopping up again, “Shit- Logan!?”

A wolf rose from a sleeping position in Logan’s bed, looking quite grumpy as he looked over at Roman.

“Holy everlasting reign of glob, what happened to you?!” he said as he rushed back over and the wolf simply huffed, stretching before hopping off the bed and walking around.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh god Logan,” He put his hands over his mouth, “gosh Logan I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, gosh I should have come back sooner and now you’re a wolf oh gosh I’m so sorry,”

The wolf went over, scratching at the leg of the desk, whimpering softly.

“Oh, you- uh- you want something? Something on your desk? Some kind of super science thing that’ll turn you back or-” he paused and sighed, “You want the chicken nuggets, don’t you?”

So that’s how Roman ended up sitting in Logan’s bed, feeding a wolf chicken nuggets, having a crisis, for thirty minutes.

“Goooooooooooosh what am I gonna tell Thomas? That his logic is now a wolf? How am I gonna explain that?!” He groaned as he pet the wolf who was now lying in his lap.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up, startling the wolf, nerdy ‘wolf’erine, Roman had dubbed him. “I- hear me out, Logan, I have an idea, ok?”

‘Wolf’erine tilted his head as Roman cupped the wolf’s face, “Ok, I know it’s highly illogical but in all the fairy tales it works,” He said before moving and pressing a kiss to the wolf’s snout.

“Roman? What in the name of Tesla are you doing?”

Roman pulled away and smiled, “Wait, shit did it work???” Then he made a confused face when he saw the wolf still in front of him.

“Roman why are you kithing the wolf?” Logan asked, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

Roman felt his face heat up as he blushed a very very bright red color, “I-I- y-you’re not- but I thought- you- I-” he looked between the wolf and Logan, “I- I thought you were the wolf!!”

“I- what?”

“You’re practically turning into a wolf when I came in and there was a wolf in your bed I thought- I thought-...”

Logan stared at him a moment before he laughed, “You thought I had turned into a wolf, oh wow Roman that ith… oh goodneth,” he laughed.

Roman blushed even brighter, “I- its not- what was I supposed to think?! And why in the world is there a wolf in your room!?”

“I asked Remuth to get one from the imagination for me tho I could do more rethearch, I was thimply out because Remuth had been ranting about all the wayth wolves could kill and I did not want to be rude by leaving,” he explained

Roman nodded a little bit, “ooookkkkkkkkkkaaayyy, but why did you ask /Remus/? I could have gotten it for you,” he said, pouting a little bit.

“You have already done tho much for me, I did not want to bother you further, plus with Remuth I can athk for a wolf and get one no quethtions athked.”

“Oh…. Right…” he nodded a little bit, letting out a sigh, “Alright, uh, I fed your dinner to the wolf, I’ll get you something else,” he chuckled shyly, “Just… know you can ask me for anything, ok?”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind, thank you, Roman,” he smiled and nodded.

He nodded with a grin before going to the door, “Oh, and Roman?” Logan called and Roman looked back at him.

“If you thought the wolf was me… why, exactly, were you kissing it?” He asked with an eyebrow raised and a small smirk.

Roman’s face was once more painted red as he blushed again, “I- I was just- I- I mean it always works in fairy tales!!”

Logan was in a laughing once more as Roman rushed out with a thick blush on his face because gooooshhhhh that was embarrassing.

----

Heh, thought you all deserved some funny silly bois before the heavy stuff drops :3

Tag list:

@did-he-just-hiss-at-me @aegis-the-ace @occasional-fander @thefivecalls @wishthefish916 @osdd1b-partner-system-dynamics @somewhatvacant @a-soul-among-the-stars @superweebside

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oh-theatre · 4 years

Text

Just A Remnant Now

A/n: lmao this is so bad im so sorry,,, lmaooo ITS SO BAD

TW: Death, spirit, spit, farting, destroy, pain, graphic descriptions, ANGST, no happy ending

“Im sorry Remus I cant talk to you right now, its been months and I cant figure out where this spirit energy is coming from” Logan huffs. “Tomorrow is my presentation and if i have nothing to show for it my entire funding, this project crumbles” He rambles. Remus follows him, his feet carry a sweet lightness as he listens.

“What will they do with the spirit or ghost?” Remus questions, sitting on one of the cold benches focusing hard as he fiddles with something in his hand. A cold breeze as Logan snatches the tool away from him. “Hmph” Remus pouts

“My guess? Ill get a whole team of scientists! A whole new lab with facilities and so much more! And ill tear it apart and study every aspect” Logan beams, the glint in his eye sickened Remus.

“So you'll kill it?” Remus scoffs “Seems kinda brutal”

“No ill just...take it apart to...examine its..origins and what it can do and...its a ghost what does it matter Remus?” Logan inquires, typing viciously away at his keyboard.

“They still have feelings, their sensories are there!” Remus argues, feeling his face flush. “The way you plan to tear them apart is inhumane! Its against their will Logan, they are still forms of living.

“They are, in every sense of the word, not Remus. They are dead, figments of what used to be. They cant feel pain, or emotion, they are a remnant” Logan explains

“They are more than that! Lo you're not listening!” Remus stands now, Logan could be intimidating but Remus towered over the scientist.

“Im not listening because you don't know what youre talking about” Logans cold glare would pierce anyone but not Remus. “You're just my engineer.” He spits

Though i wish we could be more, both think in unison through their frustration.

“They have the memories of their old life, they have feelings, they have feelings of the world they must traverse through now as a spirit. They develop feelings, emotions, memories and more. They travel through to the middle ground between living and dead. If they accept it, they move on but some choose to stay!” Remus finishes, his breath cold as it spits on Logan. “Some don't have a choice! Some are tethered! But they aren't just ghosts Logan. They live in the now, through whatever means. Tearing them apart with my molecular design would kill them, and every ounce of pain felt would hurt just as much as it would to you.” Remus finishes, his body shakes, he tries his best to keep solid to the ground.

“You've developed emotions for these things” Logan rolls his eyes. His judgment was not missed. “And if im not mistake, its your device Remus” Logan reminds

“You're right...it is” He turns to where the device sits immaculate, his design perfect. Such as the mad genius he was. He took his work in his hands, feeling every ounce of metal and wiring that was in it. Then, in the flash of an eye, the machine crashed. It fell to the ground with the force of anger, Logans shock and frozen state was unmissable as the pieces clattered around the ground.

“What have you done” He whispers viciously. Remus stands triumphant feeling the pain inside.

“What I should have done as soon as I made it” Remus sighs.

“Why do you care so deeply for these things! You have no idea what they are or what they do!” Logan yells, his voice echoes through the lab.

“For how smart you are.. youre so fucking dumb Logan!” Remus argues back. “For months the same spiritual energy has been popping up on your monitor! You couldn't put two and two together?” He smirks. “You really think after your failed convention last year they would send you an engineer?”

“What are you saying” Logan breathes

“You're so dumb Logan!” Remus swipes an angered hand across the table, tools crash to the ground.

“Stop calling me that” Remus’s accusations had cut deep.

“You call me that at least once every hour!” The continue arguing, it hurts each of them more than can be described. Each new insult is a breach to the relationship they had built up over the past year. Finally Remus couldn't keep it in anymore. “Im the spirit Logan!”

the silence that fell through the lab was piercing.

“I didn't want to move on because fuck closure, so i found you. I liked what you were doing...or at least what i thought you were doing. But once i had built the machine i could have left...but I liked you Logan. Plus you hadn't found a spirit! I thought hey maybe this will be the final piece of the puzzle...” Logans speechless breaths were terrifying. Remus cant help but reach out, he focuses allowing his hands to solidify. He takes Logans hands. “Watch” He instructs, after a quick thought Logans hands fall through Remus’s hold.

“no no” He tries desperately to grasp to Remus, he wants to feel his hands. “No no lies lies all of it” He spirals, Remus just watches knowing this was inevitable. Remus feels a tug at his heart, he works quickly and the machine is one again. Logan remains at his desk, murmuring nonsense.

“Lo?” Remus for all his chaos, had the softest voice. “Take me...to the demonstration tomorrow” he offers. Logan looks up finally, his eyes red from thoughts. “I was just another chess piece for your game, just use me...i don't think i wanna stay around much longer anyway” He sighs.

“No Remus. We have to stop this project.”

“what?” Remus barely breathes.

“I was wrong...I was wrong and so misguided.” Logan admits, he has no idea if his next move would work but he takes Remus hands feeling a warmth as they stay solid in his hold. “You were never a piece...but I was wrong. Because they can feel, you feel...and I feel you” He moves a hand to Remus cheek. Logan had never seen this energetic bumble of ‘not safe for work’ jokes and buzzing laughter so...tired. And it was his fault. “You feel pain and joy and sadness and-”

“Love” Remus adds, Logan holds back his desperation.

“I was truly an idiot, I was so focused on not looking like a failure I forgot my true goal. To discover and explore...not destroy” Logan sighs “I wanted to learn, but i let that go and became this”

“You dont wanna...destroy?” Remus cant quite wrap his head around it.

“No god. I wanted to understand! But i let the success and money get to me. And i lost sight of who I was. You arent a danger...you are a miracle” He smiles ever so slightly. “SOmething I love so much is not worth destroying” He states

“Love?” Remus feels himself relax.

“So..so much” Logan says

“Hah you're in love with a ghost” Remus teases, Logan sighs with a giggle and a playful eye roll.

“I still have the machine remus” Logan threatens with a grin. Remus steps back and gasps his collar.

“How dare thee!” He cries ever so mockingly. “I thought you cared”

“Woe is you” He laughs quickly pulling Remus into a kiss.

Yeah its weird, but so intriguing. He expected a cold chill but received warmth in Remus’s embrace.

They canceled the demonstration and gracefully stepped away. Years passed and Logan desperately tried to find a solution, he wanted Remus to stay, to be here in all his physical form. But on a quiet fall night, Remus was sprawled across the couch trying to dunk cheese balls into his mouth. Logan sat at his work bench concocting as he did. Logan had had his doubts over the years, Remus was a ghost. But Remus explained that the longer he was on earth he felt tethered a developed a physical form. He wasn't a human but he wasn't a ghost, almost a third party but he was real.

But he was fading.

And Logan worked tirelessly to find out what he could do. He had consulted with Virgil and Patton, two scientists who had done great strides for the world of science. He constantly worked alongside Janus but to no avail. Remus was fading, he would have to go soon. Remus didn't mind, all he tried to do was comfort his partner but Logan, for as smart as he was, was in deep denial.

But this fall night, as a cheesy treat fell into Remus’s mouth his image flickered. This caught Logans eye from his work.

“Remus?” He rushed over watching Remus sit up straight. The flickers were slow before they became full glitches and constantly. “No i need more time. Surely.” He could feel his tears coming.

“Promise me youll find someone? Whos maybe not a farting ghost” Remus shrugs, Logan shakes his head, this wasnt the time for jokes. “Logan you knew this was coming. Also lets be honest, it was weird im a ghost”

“You're not though! You're a tethered!” He cries

“Guess my tether snapped” Remus sighs. He wanted to spend these last few moments in sweet bliss but instead, in true Logann fashion, he was arguing. “Come cuddle me you obnoxious man” He pouts

He knows its a joke but the sadness in Remus’s eyes finally catches up to the scientist. He obliges sitting with Remus. They do cuddle, and Remus finally lets go. His tears are soft and he doesnt think much but he doesnt know whats going to happen next.

“You should get a dog” He sniffles, Logan laughs dryly stroking the messiest hair he had ever known. “Also Janus totally likes you” Remus wasnt oblivious to the way Janus looked at Logan. But he didn't mind, Logan was his...but he wanted his partner to be happy once he was gone.

“Perhaps, but let me just...let me mourn alright?” Logan asks

“Fine, but promise me you wont mourn forever, please?” He holds up his pinky, Logan rolls his eyes but promises either way. Remus leans up a tad to kiss Logans cheek. “Lets just sit here ok?” He requests, Logan grants it. “I love you Logie” He knows that only he is allowed to call him such a name. They sit in silence, feeling the heartbeats and warmth. Every intimate move felt so careful.

“I love you so much” He says after a moment of silence, he awaits a response but looks down to see Remus was no longer there. A small gasp as he takes to his chest. This is what it felt like, so much pain. They never conducted the experiments but as he clutched his heart and sobbed loudly he imagined this was close enough.

#intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #write #writing #youtube #angst #no happy ending #thomas sanders #fanfic #fic #fanfiction

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Pure blood 18 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

A/N: School is a nightmare, it doesn't let me focus on more important things (like this fanfic, hahaha) Danny and I are very close to finishing the semester and that is why we have had a lot of homework. Sorry for the delay, but here you finally have your favorite drama!! :)

Masterlist:

Chapter 17: / Chapter 19

"If you ask Slughorn to change your partner, I'll buy you all the chocolate you want,” Remus laughs across the table.

"You really want me away from Trixie…” He says, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously," That makes him laugh again. “It's not funny."

"Don't be mad,” He raises his hands in surrender. "Listen, it’s been a few classes I've had with her, I think you and Sirius are exaggerating a bit. She seems to be a good girl.”

"You hurt me, Lupin.”

"It would be better if, if she were a bad person, I discovered it on my own…”

"No, it doesn't convince me.”

“Persephone…”

“Don't come at me with that, I know what I'm saying, she's bad and she'll hurt you if you're not careful, but you won't listen to me,” I roll my eyes.

"Are you angry with me?"

“No," I sigh. "I don't blame you, I also fell for her game, I understand why everyone thinks those things about her, it's just that..." I see towards the Ravenclaw table, where Trixie laughs with her friends. Then I look back at Remus and smile, “It doesn't matter, you wouldn't understand. Just be careful.”

"I appreciate your concern, but it isn’t necessary."

"Yes it is, but you're not ready for this conversation."

"Now, it’s okay. Do you want to go for a walk or something?” He says getting up from the place.

"Sure. As long as I have you as far from the devil, the better.”

Remus huffs and we both leave the large dining room. The looks don’t wait, although since last year we started our friendship, just a few weeks before finishing fifth year, Remus and I decided to go out more often, regardless of what the others said. Although sometimes I can notice Wolfie’s discomfort.

We walk through the halls talking about nonsense until we hear someone's complaints.

Lily and James are fighting... again. The redhead looks angry, her face is flushed and I don't think it's out of shame, while James looks at her with amusement. Lupin and I stop at a good distance from them.

"I don't understand why Potter keeps trying with Lily, it’s obvious that they hate each other!" I commented making Remus laugh.

"I guess James expects a miracle for Lily to say yes."

“You're a pig, Potter!" Lily yells.

“But Potter doesn't try, he just plays smart and tries to impress her wrongly. That’ll never work for him."

"You say it like you know what you need to do…”

“It's not a great science, everything he does is wrong, he just wants to attract attention and waits for Lily to fall into his arms, but since she doesn’t, it becomes a whim, why doesn't he leave her alone? Surely another dumb girl would be willing to go out with him.”

"That's a problem" I look confused at my friend. "Lily didn't fall for his charms, that's why he wants her"

"As I said: A whim."

“A whim doesn't last that long, plus it doesn't stop talking about it all the time. Sometimes it’s annoying.”

"If he really wants it, he must change his strategy."

Our conversation is cut short when Lily slaps the boy and all I can do is laugh out loud. The redhead walks away and James is puzzled. Remus sighs and suddenly notice how his body shivers a little, but manages to recover quickly.

"You're good?" I touch his shoulder.

"Yes, it's just..." He looks around making sure that no one hears us. "The full moon is approaching, don't worry."

"Shall I accompany you to the infirmary? Do you want chocolate?" I ask making him laugh.

"I'm fine, I'm already an expert in this.”

"Moony! Did you see the tremendous blow Prongs received?” Sirius says coming to our side along with a grumpy James touching his cheek.

"Yes, I saw it all, are you okay, Prongs?" James just growls.

"Epic," I say with a smile and the boy looks at me angrily.

"You know?" Remus says. "Percy and I were talking about your strategy to conquer Lily.”

"Which is disgusting” I added.

"Maybe she could help you," he says, taking me by the shoulders.

"What!?" James and I say at the same time.

"What could a snake know?"

"I would never help Potter in anything and less if it has to do with Lily!” I look at James. "She doesn’t deserve it!”

"Oh, now you're the good friend? Who was it that was responsible for making her life miserable during all those years?”

I clench my teeth angrily.

"That was before…”

"Before discovering how disgusting you are as a person.”

"James!" Remus scolds him.

"And you think you’re perfect? You’re just a capricious child who doesn't understand what a no is. You promise Lily everything, but once she’s gone, your life is just pranks and annoying those you consider inferior,” I approach James. “You’re nothing different than what I was.”

"You and I have nothing in common."

I smile.

"You want to bet? What about Snape? No wait, what about all Slytherin? You never think about the consequences of this separation of houses, you never worry if someone was hurt by any of your jokes, you think that anyone can be in the palm of your hand, you manipulate minors and anyone who can get in the way, all so that have your moment of glory and everyone applaud you and still think you deserve someone like Lily?”

"Who are you to criticize me? A girl who thinks she can change from one day to the next, your biggest problem is no longer being Daddy's favorite. You do not measure your words, you hurt anyone who is not pureblood or who does not have money, you do not know the number of boys who run away from you and you don’t have an idea of everything they say about the famous Slytherin princess. From first grade I knew that you’d be a big problem for us, I didn’t have to wait long to know that I did the right thing by separating you from the group and obviously I wouldn’t let Sirius fall with you in your miserable life. But now? Now you put this whole theater together to get the forgiveness you don't deserve. You still wonder why Sirius left you? Do you think you deserve the friendship of Lily and Remus?”

Everything went silent, in the hallway only the four of us were left in a quite tense situation. I feel the tears in my eyes but I don't allow them to leave and before anyone could do anything, my fist hits James’ face.

The surprise and the blow unbalance him and he takes a few steps back, but my actions only worsened his anger, his face flushes and he walks to face me, but Sirius's body stands in the middle and tries to control his friend, but it’s not enough and he pushes him away. James pulls out his wand, so I quickly imitate him and we both cast a spell at the same time, but they bounce back and we’re both pushed to the ground in a crash.

Strong pain goes through my back and neck, I groan and Remus crouches down next to me.

"Percy, are you alright?" Very carefully he helps me sit down.

"What is happening here?” Professor Mcgonagall walks into the room.

No one could say anything at the time.

——————————————————————

"I hope these hours are useful for you to stop these childish fights," says the teacher at the front of the room, while James and I are sitting together. This punishment could’ve been worse, but thanks to the concern of your friends, I’ve decided that no one will leave until they make the passes,” He looks at us expectantly. "I will go and I just have to remind you not to cause another disaster, am I right?”

We both remain silent and the teacher leaves.

For a few minutes we do nothing, then James gets up and goes to the back of the room. I cross my arms on the table and rest my head on them.

In that, shouts of celebration are heard, it’s obvious that they come from outside, a window looks out onto the courts where Quidditch teams practice. James looks out and complains.

"I can't believe I'm missing practice, all because of a snake!” I ignore his comment and he continues to see out the window. “I'll never leave, there’s no way I could be your friend.”

For some reason, that comment catches my attention. I barely move my head towards him when I speak.

"What you said before,” He looks at me. “'I did the right thing by separating you from the group,” I settle in my chair. "I remember arguing with Sirius because I thought you didn't like me, that you had something against me. I wasn't wrong.”

"You're not Ravenclaw for a reason," he says sarcastically.

"Why?" I ask and he raises an eyebrow. "What did I do to make you hate me like this?" James rolls his eyes.

"You won't make it.”

"What?"

"I know what you’re trying, you talk about the problem to do therapy and then be friends.”

I snort and get up.

"Listen" I sit at the teacher's desk. “It's obvious that we’ll be here for a long time. I don't want to be your friend either, but I can't help thinking that… ” My breathing stops and I look him straight in the eye. “What could I have done to you when I was eleven years old to ruin the only friendship I had?”

For a moment his features soften and he looks uncomfortable.

"You said it yourself, it was a long time ago, you should get over it.”

“Says the boy that can't get over a girl,” James sighs and looks back out the window. But it doesn't last long.

"I know that the wedding is only part of your plan,” He says and now I look at him confused. He walks away from the window and walks around the room. “As soon as we get out of this, you’ll return to your natural state and you’ll hurt my friends again. The only reason I accepted the truce was because of Remus and Sirius, but I’ll never let my guard down.”

I roll my eyes.

"I can't believe how stupid you are," I growl. "The stupid wedding is just a circus for my parents to control me. What you think is theater, it’s a form of manipulation on the part of my family, they… they are not good people and they tried to take me to the dark side and in not doing so they had to act quickly.”

He stops between the rows of desks and pays attention to me.

“I know that Sirius has told you about his family, mine’s not very different, and they also have to control Sirius, it’s the only thing they could think of so we don’t dishonor the family. You don't know how lucky you are to have a different family, Potter,” I feel a lump in my throat. "You don't know me and that's why you think you have the freedom to judge me.”

"Me? You’ve also insulted me-”

"For self-defense!” I exclaim. "What did you expect me to do? In our first year, on the train I thought I could really be your friend, but everything changed very quickly.”

"I overheard your conversation with Mcgonagall after the ceremony.”

His answer surprises me.

“You wanted Sirius to be with you in Slytherin, you wanted to drive away the first friend I had. I always knew that only bad people were in that house and you wanted to drag him to it. I don’t regret my decision, my eleven-year-old self was right.”

I keep thinking about what he says.

“You are and you were very selfish,” I add. "Yes, I wanted to be with my best friend, but I was worried about what his parents would say! I was very afraid since I knew what Walburga was able to do, I thought it was a mistake and thought that if I talked to the teacher, they could fix it,” Great, now I’m crying. “I wanted to protect my best friend and ended up losing him, all because a spoiled child misinterpreted things.”

"Even so, you were cruel to many people, you made fun of Evans, Remus, all those who were not pureblood" He says quietly.

"I'm not innocent, I know I did a lot of bad things, but, unlike you, I do regret it,” I clean my face. "It was what my parents taught me and I didn't... I can't justify myself with just that, I know, but at least I'm trying to change and it's not that easy, I just–” A sob escapes my lips. “I want to be different from my parents.”

We’re silent for a few minutes in which I try to calm down.

"I didn't- I didn't know," he says in a whisper.

"Of course not," I sigh. "It wasn't just you... Sirius wasn’t forced to tell me all that, he could’ve made a decision, but he only followed you.”

"We were kids.”

"Stupid kids.”

James nods and rubs the back of his neck.

"You know? Sirius had a very bad time after your argument,” I don't speak. “We even heard him cry sometimes…”

"That doesn't matter now, James,” Before the boy could say anything, the door opens, Remus and Sirius peek through.

"Are you best friends now?" Remus asks in an attempt to cut the tension.

I don't wait any longer and I leave the room without looking at anyone.

The next day.

"You're good?" Remus asks worried.

"If you keep asking that, I'll hit you."

"I'm just doing my job as a friend,” He grins.

“Sorry," We keep walking towards the potions classroom. "No, I'm not fine, but soon everything will be better,” He puts his arm around my shoulders. "Is tonight's meeting still standing?"

Remus stops, forcing me to do it too.

"About that…” He says sadly. "I promised Trix that I would help her with her potions homework."

“What?"

"I don't know how long it’ll take and I don't want to ghost you…”

"What?"

"Oh, here it comes…” He says nervously.

"Are you replacing me with Trixie?" I raise my eyebrows.

"It's not that, you know very well that the exams are coming, I just want to help her.”

I growl at his words.

"And I suppose she begged you for help."

“We're partners-"

“Remi!" A shrill voice interrupts us. Trixie comes to our side and hugs Remus, who blushes. "Come on, walk, otherwise we’ll be late…”

She says when the hug ends, and then looks at me.

"Oh Persephone, it looks like you didn't have a good night, are you okay?" She seems worried, but I don't believe her.

"I'm fine Trixie."

"Your dark circles look dreadful,” She looks for something in her bag and takes it out. "Here, it's makeup, it’ll help. It's not that dark circles are a bad thing, besides, you always look beautiful, I just think your friends would worry. No one likes to answer those questions when they've had a bad night, right?”

I clench my jaw. Do not fall in the trap.

Remus gestures for me to take the offering and I reluctantly accept it.

"Thanks, I guess."

She smiles warmly and takes Remus's arm.

"Well, it's time to go to class…”

Before entering, Remus tells the girl to go ahead, she nods and leaves. The boy turns to me.

"We just have to change the date of the meeting, I promise it won’t happen again," I nod and he goes to his place.

I look at the knob in my hand and frown.

Don't fall again.

Taglist!

@treestarrrrrrrr @siriuslysirius1107 @thagreenmoon @madmaiden2890 @bloodorangemoonlight @ren-ela @avipshamitra @auroraawrites @findzelda @lizlil @siriusmuch @chloe-geoghegan1 @reverse-hxlland @may-rapp

@littledeadgirlwalking

#Pure blood #Hp fanfic #Sirius Black #Sirius Black x reader #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Lily Evans #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fanfic #twoidiots writing

51 notes · View notes

yuna-dan · 4 years

Note

Hey are you still doing the dodie prompts? If so- 9, Prinxiety

Hey, both of you! Thank you so so much!! I really hope you like this one, I did enjoyed writing it, haha.

Warning: One-side Anxceit AND one-side Prinxiety. It’ll make sense. Not bad deceit per se, but not good either. Human AU.

When Virgil decided to break-up with Damien, it was the last time. He had given so many opportunities to him to change, to improve, to give him a sign that he cared about that relationship just as much as Virgil cared.

He didn’t, so when Virgil broke up with him, for the ninth time, it was for the good. He wasn’t going to fall for any more of Damien’s tricks.

It went okay for a few months. Damien still sent him some texts, and Virgil still answered but he wasn’t going to fall again. No.

Even if a small part of him wished for Damien to care about it.

When school started again, Virgil was slightly relieved, since now he wouldn’t have to share most of his classes with his ex, even if they still talked it was quite uncomfortable for Virgil, at least.

It was in the second period when he met him, and at that moment he didn’t care much about him. Mr. Sanders, the Chemistry teacher, presented him.

“Hey, people, we have two new students. Please guys, introduced yourselves.”

Virgil didn’t pay much attention to them, just the basic I’m Roman and I’m Remus. It wasn’t until Roman (or was it Remus?) sat next to him, “Can I be your science partner? I really don’t want to work with my brother.”

“Uh, sure. I don’t mind.”

Roman smiled, and Virgil didn’t think much about it, but he couldn’t help but noticed what a beautiful smile he had.

Virgil didn’t realize how much his life change by becoming his chemistry partner until he was in Roman’s room, playing Mario Kart and laughing his ass off. It wasn’t as if he they became best friend at the beginning, no. It took some time, Virgil being a procrastinator and Roman wanting to work in the chemistry project since day one, but at the end of the day, it was okay.

Patton said they completed each other. Virgil still couldn’t believe he had more friends since becoming Roman’s chem partner. He even got along with Remus, even if sometimes he creeped the fuck out of him.

He almost forgot about Damien. Almost being the key word.

Virgil couldn’t believe he was once again crying because of him. He gripped the edge of his hoodie and clean harshly his eyes.

Damien, fucking Damien and his inability to fucking compromise I just hope you never forget how much I do love you, Virgil. It was never my intention to hurt you like that.

And what was he supposed to do with that apologize?

Virgil knew he better got his shit together; he was crying in the school for fuck sake. He cleaned once again his eyes, and prayed it looked as if he was tired and not as he just cried his eyes out inside a janitor closet.

He took out his phone, to check what class he had next. History, and since he was pretty good at that, he going to skip that class and sleep in the school gardens, yes.

Virgil was just ready to leave the building and go to the garden, when Roman bumped him.

“Oh, hey Virgil, I was just about to text you…” Roman checked his face, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” He lied, “I was going to sleep a little, I feel very tired.”

Roman hummed, clearly not buying the lied, “Okay, I’ll keep you company, if that’s alright?”

And Virgil just started to cry again, and Roman held him. They walked together around the gardens, while Virgil talked, talked and talked about Damien, about how he knew how he wasn’t bad but goddamit.

Roman kissed his temple, “You deserve better, Vi.”

And Virgil may not have known this, but Roman’s heart ache by seeing his friend crying, you deserve better, Vi, hopefully I can be that.

It had been two months since the last time Virgil talked or text for the matter, with Damien.

The thing was, that the only person in the world who knew that Virgil loved pink roses was Damien, so when he opened his door and found a bouquet of pink roses, he instantly thought of him.

He rolled his eyes, and when he was about to throw them into the trash and forget about them, he saw the letter with a big golden R.

For the best friend I could ever asked for,

-Roman D. Prince

Virgil couldn’t help but smile and feel some buttery thing inside his stomach.

On his locker he found a box of strawberries, because he didn’t like chocolate.

Then a bracelet, and finally Roman holding more flowers, with Remus and Logan holding a sign that read Prom with me? Please? and Patton taking photos with his phone in the middle of the school gardens. Virgil chuckled because only Patton was enjoying this.

Virgil was so fucking sure he hated great and big gestures, but at the moment he loved it.

“Of course, you big sap.” Roman hugged him, and the people who were filming and watching awwed.

Virgil loved it.

He was in his room, smiling at the photos that Patton tagged him on Facebook, when he received Damien’s call.

He ignored it, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly proud of himself.

The days that followed before Prom night, was full of Roman always holding Virgil’s hand, and constant emoji kisses, and here I bought this because I thought about you.

It was as if Roman was almost waiting for him, and it was such a beautiful cliché.

And Virgil felt slightly guilty because he really liked roman’s attention, but at the same time he knew that if Damien asked him again, he would probably say yes.

When prom night arrived, Virgil and Roman were using matching suits. Roman picked him up and held his hand.

“Thanks for this, Virgil.” He squeezed his hand.

And when they slow-danced together, Virgil kissed him for the first time.

Damien confronted him one day, at his house, “You don’t even like those things, Virgil!”

“Why do you care?!” Virgil snapped, “Suddenly, when I finally move on, you suddenly care about us?!”

“I have always care about you, Vi.” He said, softly, getting closer. Virgil tensed, but didn’t moved, “Please…” He pecked his lips. “You don’t even like him,” he grabbed his hands, “You love me.”

Virgil took a step back, “I do like him, De.” He said, and with the back of his hand he cleaned his lips, “and I loved you, so very much.”

He opened the door, “Sadly for you, I’ve learned to love myself, so you better watch me fall for every damn stereotype.” He took a deep breath, fighting the tears back, “Out. Now.”

He did cry that night.

Later, he texted Roman.

damien came at my home

-V.V

He saw the status of Roman changing from typing… to online at least three times.

And? How are you feeling?

-R.P

Virgil chuckled, wondering how he manage to find someone as amazing as Roman.

emotionally drained

he pecked my lips

but I kick him out

sorry

-V.V

Virgil felt his heart drumming into his ribcage as Roman’s status was typing…

I’m mad, but with him, dw.

Wanna talk about it?

-R.P

No, not really.

-V.V

So, lunch tomorrow, sweetheart?

-R.P

Virgil sent him an emoji heart.

Two months later, Virgil asked Roman to be his boyfriend, to became official.

That day Virgil blocked Damien from all social media.

They were laying on Roman’s couch, waiting for Remus and Logan to bring food, while Patton was in the kitchen doing something. Virgil’s head was on Roman’s chest, and it felt so natural.

“Roman?”

“Yes?”

“I think I love you.”

Roman smiled as if someone told him he won the lottery, “I love you too, Vi.”

Yes, he really loved Roman, and it couldn’t be happier.

I believe De really loved Vi, but he was still an idiot.

Thanks for submitting!!

If you wanna be tag in my future fics, please react to this

Tag List: @awkwardkindanerd @logically-asexual @just-some-gt-trash @theunoriginaldaisy

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exhaustedfander · 4 years

Note

For the oneshot request, could you please do some soft logince? Maybe Logan's had a hard day and Roman comforts him with some cuddles or smth?

You got it! It’s certainly been a while since I've written Logince, but it’s a ship I've loved for a while and one I had a lot of fun writing again.

a03 link

Word Count: 1,673

A Little Creature Comfort Never Hurt

Logan hesitated to say that he’d had a hard day. Yes, it had been rather tiring. Yes, one of his students had nearly burned the science department to the ground; it reminded him quite a bit of the shenanigans that Roman’s brother, Remus, liked to pull. It was a wonder that he was able to find any humor in the situation. But Logan hadn’t had a “hard day” per se, considering it could’ve certainly gone worse. Even more so, tonight was date night, and Logan intended to put his best foot forward despite his exhaustion.

Roman was making dinner and they were going to watch a movie together. If anything, the evening would be rather relaxing.

Logan sighed as he opened the door to their shared apartment, removing his shoes and placing his briefcase by the door. He could smell the heavy aromas of garlic and chicken coming from the kitchen, his lips upturning in a faint smile as Roman came to the doorway. He was clad in a “Kiss the Cook” apron that Logan had gotten him as a joke last Christmas, having not thought Roman would actually use it. It had been foolish not to know Roman would wear it every chance he had.

“Hello, love of mine,” Roman greeted in a sing-song-tone, walking up to him and throwing his arms around his shoulders and giving him a tight squeeze.

“Salutations, Roman. Dinner smells good.” Roman grinned, pulling Logan into a kiss that the teacher could’ve just melted into, had he allowed himself to do so. Instead he ignored the fact that he was nearly dead on his feet, pulling away and smiling at Roman.

“Thanks, nerd. Should be done in a few minutes. Could you go set the table?”

“Of course.”

Logan still found it odd sometimes, the domesticity that had fallen over his life. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t ever expected to find someone who he wanted to share a life with, he’d considered what his future might entail for years prior. It was just the fact that Roman had taken him by complete surprise. In all honesty, they hadn’t been on the best of terms for quite a while. Roman was a stage actor, a profession that Logan used to know almost nothing about; he still knew very little, but he’d tried to understand as much as he could for Roman’s sake. Logan had never quite understood the ways of the theater. Sure, he could research the great array of plays and performances as well as the rules to how to craft had been perfected as well as the technicality of everything, but that didn’t actually provide him with an understanding of why people enjoyed plays as much as they did.

He’d met Roman through a mutual friend of theirs, Patton, who Logan was fairly sure had been trying to set them up from the get-go. Logan had been sympathetic of the fact that Patton meant well as being as happy as he was in his own relationship with his husband, Virgil, would only want to encourage love in others. But when he met Roman, he was flabbergasted. How could this man be someone Patton could remotely believe to be his type?!

The first several months of being acquainted, many of their conversations devolved to full-blown arguments more times than not. Patton, sweet, sweet Patton, had tried to keep the peace between them but to no avail. It seemed they were destined to argue, and they did just that, any time they spent time with their friends or spent time alone together. Come to think of it, why were they spending time alone together? The question baffled Logan but still he found no answer. Surely, he despised Roman’s company…right?

Signs were pointing to no, considering the moment a quarrel of theirs had found a peak in tension the two of them had connected their lips in a fit of more than mere spur-of-the-moment passion. Logan, as it turned out, had feelings more than just animosity for Roman. All of those instances in which they’d been screaming their heads off at each other he’d unknowingly been becoming smitten with the brash man – and strangely enough, Roman felt the same.

Things didn’t fall into place automatically. There was a gap period where the pair weren’t exactly sure what to label their relationship, considering extensive amounts of conflict continuing between them. But as time went on more of their conflicts found resolutions, or at the very least apologetic make-ups. Roman was much more than the bold, overconfident actor who Logan had initially taken him to be. He came to recognize the kindness his boyfriend possessed that he was working to improve upon as well as how hard-working and determined he was. He was compassionate, and supportive, and far more loving than Logan had ever known.

It pushed Logan a great deal out of his comfort-zone, the affection that Roman was able to provide do freely and willingly. Logan’s relationship with his own emotions as well as human-touch in general was complicated, but being with Roman, he was able to find himself growing to embrace it.

Now here Logan found himself, nearly two years into a relationship with a man so unlike himself, but someone who brought him more joy than even he could conceive. Most of the time, he was deliriously happy in a way he’d never expected to be. He’d even attended a great deal of plays, some of which Roman performed in, some not, to show his appreciation for his partner’s craft. He still had little interest in the theater, but he had to admit that Roman was a spectacle onstage that rivaled the beauty of the constellations. He performed with such gusto, such genuineness and bravado that Logan would have to be a fool not to see the raw talent his boyfriend possessed.

So, to say the least, Logan took date night very seriously. They were both very busy individuals with their work, so some down-time spent together at home was something he cherished dearly. He wanted to express to Roman how much he loved him and adored his company. He was never as spontaneously romantic as his boyfriend was; sometimes Roman wrote him love-letters just for the hell of it, several pages long and sentimental enough to bring a tear to Logan’s eyes. But he could still do whatever possible to ensure that Roman understood that he cared.

Logan and Roman ate dinner and chatted idly about their days. Logan forwent explaining his deep-seeded exhaustion that was beginning to take a tole, determined to make the most of their time together.

It was only when they shut the lights out and Roman put on “one of Logan’s nerd science documentaries” that he liked so much did the weight of the day settle over him. He fought to keep his eyes on the screen, basking in Roman’s embrace but despite how much he willed it, he was dozing off before he knew it.

“Mmm – what?” Logan mumbled in confusion, shifting the blankets around him and realizing he was in bed without remembering how he’d come to be there, his glasses placed gingerly on the bedside table. Roman chuckled, turning their bedroom light out and sliding into bed beside him.

“You started drifting off, sleeping beauty,” Roman teased, “So I brought you to bed. I noticed that you looked tired when you came home but you should’ve said something. We could’ve rescheduled date-night and allowed you to get a few more hours of sleep.” Logan sat up, his mind still somewhat fuzzy with sleepiness.

“I apologize, dear. I’d tried to stay awake.” Roman grabbed his hand, the contact comforting and soft.

“Whatever are you sorry for, my love? You can’t help that you’re tired, you must’ve had a hard day.” Logan sighed. Was it pitiful that the feeling of Roman’s thumb brushing over his knuckles in a steady rhythm was already beginning to lure him back to his slumber?

“I suppose so. A student was messing with flammable liquids without proper instruction and a small fire started. Luckily, it was put out with little trouble, but quite exhausting nonetheless. And then I’d had a staff meeting that was as dull as ever. Did you know they’re talking about cutting this year’s trip to the Science Center? I was appalled.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Roman cooed in a tone that had it been anyone else, Logan would’ve been positive Roman was making fun of him. Perhaps he was, if only a little, “Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve understood; you’ve put up with me in more sour moods than I’d dare to count.” Logan sighed, relaxing against his boyfriend as Roman ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know…I suppose I didn’t want to disappoint you. I enjoy our time together and I didn’t want to sacrifice it, even if I was a little overtired.”

“You could never be a disappointment, mí amour,” Roman drawled out flirtatiously, pressing a quick kiss to the back of Logan’s neck, “And I will always understand if you’re too tired or upset to do something. Just as you preach to me, physical health and mental health are incredibly important things that shouldn't be disregarded."

“Yes, but it’s different when I’m begging you to go to bed when it’s already past 3 am and you’ve hardly had anything to eat all day,” Logan scolded, though the feeling of Roman massaging his scalp took much of the bite out of his bark.

“Ah, but similar nonetheless.” Logan yawned, feeling Roman’s arms wrap around him as he pulled him into a cocoon of an embrace that he was positively helpless to. “Go to sleep, dearest. We can talk more in the morning. I love you with all my heart.” Logan had very little energy for a rebuttal of any kind, instead sinking further into the warmth that was Roman’s hug, closing his eyes and drifting back into slumber.

“I love you too.”

=+=

#logince #romantic logince #sanders sides #ts #sanders sides oneshot #ts oneshot #oneshot request #human au #fluff #cuteness #Logan loves Roman a whole lot but he's sleeeeeby #my writing #Sammy writes #exhaustedfander writes

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lovelylogans · 4 years

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part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, teenage emancipation, emotional abuse, mentions of being disowned, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, classism, mentions of past underage drinking, crying, religious content (church, going to confession), remus cameo, mentions of choking/killing someone, something similar to the canon “have you thought about killing your brother?” monologue, please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: gen

words: 57,686

"patton,” meredith says warmly, “and logan, too! come in, come in, let’s get you both out of the cold.”

“hi,” patton says, and shuffles into the diner. “um—sorry i’m late, but, you know. babies.”

“oh, they’ll need something right at the moment that’s most inconvenient, won’t they?” meredith says. “and no worries, the time’s really more a suggestion anyway—most of the rest of the kids aren’t here, but let me introduce you to my son, wyatt—”

mark, who’s sitting at the counter, looks like the man at the counter copy-pasted, except mark’s aged about twenty more years and is a bit softer around the belly. wyatt sets aside his fork and turns to more fully face him—the only difference, other than age, are the perfectly circular glasses that wyatt’s wearing, making his brown eyes overly large, like he’s looking through two magnifying glasses.

“hi,” patton says. “i’m patton, this is logan.”

“hello, patton,” he says, and, equally seriously, “hello, logan. may i hold him?”

“oh! sure,” patton says and passes him over.

wyatt holds logan a little far away from his body, surveying him. logan surveys him back. wyatt tilts his head for a moment.

“he’ll suffice,” wyatt says decisively, hands logan back, and turns back to his breakfast.

“um,” patton says, juggling logan in his arms so that he’s comfortable. “thanks, i think?”

“you’re quite welcome,” wyatt says. he continues to eat his eggs.

“hey, patton,” virgil says. “merry christmas eve.”

“merry christmas eve,” patton says.

“can i get you anything?”

patton chews at his lip, and says, “hot cocoa/coffee?”

“you know the whole spiel, i’ll spare you,” virgil says.

“it’s a christmas miracle,” patton says.

“yeah, yeah,” virgil mutters, and pours him a mug.

“thanks,” patton says, accepting it. “is there a plan for the day?”

“cook a lot,” virgil says vaguely, “which we’ll eat throughout the day. um, christmas cookies, at some point.”

“oh, sugar, before i forget, you should bring in the movies from the car, so we can start the marathon,” meredith says.

“after breakfast?” wyatt says.

meredith pauses, sighs, and says, “all right, after breakfast.”

mark says, “patton, would you like some pancakes? i’m thinking of making some and only meredith’s taken me up on it.”

“oh, i’ll eat anything,” patton says quickly. “pancakes sound great, thank you.”

“but, yeah,” virgil says and shrugs. “christmases are pretty relaxed, around here. we tend to work for half the day in the diner, but since the vast majority of my family are no longer child laborers—”

“hey,” meredith says, jokingly indignant.

“—it’s probably mostly going to be me, down here, but who knows,” virgil says. “maybe nostalgia will work in my favor, and i’ll get some unpaid laborers, and i will be shot when the revolution comes, rightfully destroyed under the hammer and sickle. anyway, we close after lunch so we can do a big dinner, we open one present of our choosing before bed. not much else goes on, for christmas eve.”

patton thinks of his past christmas eves, crammed with making appearances at holiday parties and going to church and sitting through teas and brunches and cocktail parties with business partners of his father’s, women in the same societies as his mother.

you know what? he can take a lazy day and good food and christmas movies. that isn’t strenuous at all. he shouldn’t miss the rush of small talk that felt more like an invasive interview than anything—he’d hated it then, why is he missing it now?

“it’s the first christmas eve without a house here, though,” meredith says, cutting in, “so i’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through our various experiments on how to make all of us fit into virgil’s apartment with some degree of comfort.”

“oh, hey, speaking of comfort,” virgil says, and digs out the baby carrier, which meredith picks up before patton can even try to adjust logan to reach for it himself.

“thanks,” patton says, and carefully settles logan into the carrier. logan babbles his thanks, and patton digs around for the new pacifier he’s just gotten him, one of logan’s admittedly few christmas gifts—logan’s old one met a bit of a dismal end in the inn’s garbage disposal—and pops it into logan’s mouth.

for the first time since coming to sideshire, patton’s facing two days off work, and responsibilities, other than logan. it’s probably a good thing that he’s got built-in plans, because if he didn’t, he’d be sleeping for two straight days, only waking up for logan’s crying and maybe food, like, a hastily made peanut-butter-and-jelly or just whatever bag of junk food’s cheapest and closest.

and now, he’s got a freshly-made stack of pancakes (from scratch, no less) and people to fawn over his baby and, apparently, christmas movies to watch.

oh, huh. he hadn’t even thought about it just now—when was the last time he’d watched tv? when was the last time he’d lounged on the couch, and snacked on food, and watched tv? certainly not since logan was born. probably not even before that—patton had spent a lot of time in his room, during his pregnancy. it felt like whenever he ventured out to sit in the living room all he got were disappointed looks and irritated snaps.

months, patton decides. it had been months. maybe even a year.

so, with that strange feeling sitting heavy on his chest, he digs into his pancakes with maybe a bit more aggressive fervor than he usually does.

“thank you, mr. danes, this is delicious,” patton says, by rote, after he eats one bite. he’s still going to be polite, even if he feels funny about thinking about what he’s lost—even little things, like tv.

losing bigger things, like his parents, potentially for forever, make him feel things a lot worse than funny.

but he’s not going to think about that today or tomorrow, he tells himself firmly. after christmas, he’ll have six days between christmas and the new year. he’ll think about it and make a decision then, even if the thought roils his stomach and makes the pancakes a little more difficult to swallow down than usual.

“mark, please,” mark says, looking pleased with himself.

“good luck with that,” virgil says dryly. “i think the only reason i’m not mr. danes is because you didn’t find out my last name until a couple weeks after we met.”

“it’s polite.”

“it’s not a sin to call people by their first names,” virgil counters.

“it’s a sign of respect to call people by their title,” patton counters. “you know, for my elders.”

“ elders!” virgil squawks indignantly. “i’m not an elder, i’m twenty-three!”

“and i’m sixteen! therefore, you’re an elder.”

virgil mutters something along the lines of when you’re twenty-three i’m reminding you of this conversation, which is an absolutely mind-boggling concept. twenty-three. that had never sounded like a year patton would make it to. even seventeen seems practically insurmountable.

patton manages to say something along the lines of “yeah and when i’m twenty-three, you’ll still be my elder,” even while he’s thinking about it. twenty-three. logan would be… six, seven . walking, talking, reading, writing. in school. he’d know what foods he’d like and hate and have favorite subjects and least favorite subjects and if he preferred math to english or science to history and he’d have friends and maybe even a crush.

logan growing up— that’s what’s insurmountable. not this tiny little baby who, currently, seems to be estimating how far he can throw his pacifier and if papa will go and get it for him, pulling it up out of nowhere. patton would know if logan’s eyes, now that shade of brown that matches his, will have stuck around, if logan will favor him or christopher or both or maybe even neither. if he’ll be tall or short, athletic or academic. if he’ll grow up with or without grandparents.

logan can stay a baby for quite a while longer.

patton is saved from this particular line of thinking when freddie arrives and immediately pounces onto wyatt’s back with a holler of delight, which wyatt tolerates with what patton’s starting to think is his typical placidity.

freddie then proceeds to pepper him with questions, hiking up the leg of her jeans to proudly display a massive bruise on her knee that her parents exclaim over.

“can you check it?” she asks, but wyatt’s already patiently taking her knee between both hands, adjusting his glasses.

“does it hurt very badly when i do this?” wyatt says, pressing his fingers to it lightly.

“no.”

“how about now?”

“other than it just being more pressure? no.”

wyatt looks at her over his glasses, unamused. “you’re just doing this to see if, in my medical opinion, this might possibly be the biggest bruise i’ve ever seen, aren’t you.”

freddie grins at him beatifically.

“a choreographer wanted to do a number where i never touch the ground and they just hurl me in the air the whole time, from person to person,” freddie says. “i’ve got tons.”

wyatt sighs. “i anticipate more demonstrations forthwith.”

“no showing off battle wounds in my diner!” virgil shouts from the kitchen.

freddie pouts.

“my apartment,” virgil says, emerging, “is right there. do your weird world-record-seeking stuff away from the food.”

“world record?” patton asks.

“it’s freddie’s not-so-secret ambition to do a world record, of some kind,” virgil says. “i’m not even sure if she cares what it is.”

“preferably something with acrobatics, but i’m flexible—“

“no physical puns!”

“you never let me have fun!” freddie sulks, but she is lowering her arms from where she’d been about to interlock them behind her back, to do something incredibly weird with her body because her bones seem like they’re made of rubber, patton’s guessing.

“do you need ice?” mark asks freddie, frowning at her in concern and passing a hand over her hair. “you’ve been icing and bandaging everything properly, right?”

“...yep,” freddie says.

“winifred,” wyatt says, handily polishing off his eggs, “i will offer you an escape from parental smothering by means of asking if you would like to help me carry in christmas movies from my car.”

“oh, thank god,” freddie says.

“my name is wyatt,” he says. patton isn’t fully sure if he’s kidding.

“i know, big guy,” freddie says fondly, and meredith rolls her eyes even as her children both make their getaways.

“what on earth are we going to do with that girl,” she comments to mark.

“she’s run away to the circus, dear,” mark says, “i don’t think there’s much else for us to do.”

a pause.

“i’m going to send her back with a care package of ice packs and ace bandages, though,” mark decides. “just to be safe. it never hurts to have them.”

meredith smiles and rubs his arm. “that’s a good plan.”

parenting, patton thinks. just to be safe seems like a pretty integral part of parenting, planning too. it’s good advice, even if they didn’t mean for it to be advice. the danes’ seem like a good example to follow.

logan bops at his pacifier hard enough that it falls out of his mouth and onto the counter, with a delighted babble at the demonstration of gravity.

he guesses he’s got a while to go before he has to worry about all that, though.

patton has never seen the diner so crowded.

he and annabelle have managed to lay claim to one of the tiny tables in the corner—well, “lay claim,” they were there before any of these people—and patton watches.

they were going to watch a movie, but after all the siblings got there meredith ended up helping out a waitress who looked ready to tip over under the weight of all the plates she’d been carrying, and then one thing led to another, and now patton and annabelle were watching the danes family at work, like none of them had ever left.

meredith and freddie are a rapid-fire chatty team at the counter, with frequent gales of laughter from their customers.

essie and wyatt flit around the diner, taking orders and making well-timed quips (essie) or observations (wyatt.) wyatt doesn’t even need a pen—he just remembers everyone’s orders, down to the condiments.

silas, who is apparently much stronger than he looks, is toting the weight of two fully-loaded trays at any given time for the elder two siblings.

virgil and mark occasionally emerge from the kitchen, but patton can hear sizzling and knives chopping and the smell speaks for itself—spices and sugar and so much good food that patton’s considering—

“brunch?” annabelle asks.

“oh, thank god,” patton says, “it smells so good in here, i was getting hungry again.”

“do you wanna each get something and split it?” annabelle says. “just so we have some options.”

“that sounds great,” patton says. “um, is there any food you don’t want to get? like, allergies, personal preferences, that kind of thing? that seems like the easiest place to start.”

he and annabelle slowly whittle down the menu—it turns out annabelle’s very open to just about every food option—and annabelle waves enthusiastically to essie, who perks up and prances over to their table.

“hey,” she says brightly.

“hey,” annabelle says, smiling, and accepts the kiss that essie presses to her cheek.

“you guys doing okay?” essie asks, sticking her pen into the knot of brown hair piled on top of her head. “i kind of got sucked back in, sorry.”

“i’ve got patton to keep me company, we’re okay,” annabelle says, smiling.

“oh, right, good,” essie says. “patton, this exact thing happened last year and i felt so bad, annabelle was just sitting alone in a corner for half the day, but—“

“hey, it’s cool,” annabelle says. “i had a book to read.”

essie frowns. “still—”

“you’re spending time with your family,” annabelle says. “go fetch us some french toast and waffles and caffeine, and i’ll consider forgiving you.”

she’s clearly joking, and essie smiles, relieved.

“love you,” essie says.

“i love you too, babe,” annabelle says, and essie’s smile widens before she practically floats back to the counter to turn in their order.

“how long have you two been together?” patton asks annabelle.

“oh, years,” annabelle says. “seven or eight, give or take.”

“wow,” patton says softly.

“yeah,” annabelle says, and a goofy kind of grin spreads across her face. “she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, i can handle a morning watching her have fun with her family, y’know? it makes her happy. plus, i’d be useless doing anything with... that.”

“me, too,” patton says.

“and, i mean, now you’re here,” annabelle says. “so i’ve got someone to chat with, which is good, because i forgot to pack a book this year.”

patton laughs, mostly to be polite, and says, “i guess that is good, yeah. um, so, how did you and essie meet?”

“college,” annabelle says. “we were roommates, and then, well. one thing led to another. best random assignment i could have gotten.”

“that’s really awesome,” patton says sincerely, and that sets annabelle off on a “I Love My Fiancée” tangent which patton is really happy to listen to. essie is, according to annabelle, the sweetest, most thoughtful, caring, wonderful person that she’s ever met, and she’s so excited to spend the rest of her life with her, and she can only hope that she will stack up so that she’ll be able to deserve her, and when essie is approaching to drop off their food, she’s blushing, so she must have overheard, and annabelle grins.

“you really don’t need to be so shy,” annabelle quips, and essie blushes a little more.

“well, you don’t have to be so loudly happy about it,” essie mumbles.

“of course i’m going to be happy about you, why wouldn’t i be happy about you?” annabelle counters. “you’re going to be my wife.”

essie beams at the very idea, and, with another kiss on the cheek, she floats back toward the counter, where freddie clearly begins teasing her, complete with heart-clutching and dramatic fake swooning.

“so,” annabelle says, after patton takes a forkful of french toast, “what’s your story? virgil hasn’t really told any of us much.”

patton slows his chewing as much as he can, trying to formulate an answer. well, see, i got pregnant and ran away from home and now i’m torn between breaking my parents’ hearts or mine, depending on the choice i make?

“well,” patton begins cautiously. “i’m, um, it’s—well, i, um. it’s.”

“complicated?” annabelle asks. “i mean, it’s—y’know. me too.”

patton blinks.

“i’m from texas,” annabelle elaborates. “small-town texas. um. you can probably fill in the stereotypes from there. i fully cut off contact with my parents about four years ago.”

“oh,” patton says, and it’s like the word is punched out of him. “i—i’m really sorry.”

annabelle shrugs. “it is what it is,” she says. “anyway. the danes’ have been great. i’ve been coming to holidays with them since i graduated college and, you know. came out to my parents.”

patton chews his lip, and admits, “mine’s not quite the same situation, but—but close.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he isn’t sure if he should say more—he has a vague feeling he should probably elaborate, but the idea of having a breakdown in the diner again is. not his idea of a fun christmas eve morning.

“that’s rough, dude,” annabelle says. “um, esther’s the emotionally capable one, so, sorry, but. you want some waffles?”

patton snorts.

“yeah,” he says. “okay, sure. i’ll have some waffles.”

⁂

"okay, so, you wanna pick, lo?” patton says to logan, holding up the cookie cutters in front of logan, but far enough away that he won’t grab at it. “stars or angels.”

logan considers his options. then, making a cooing noise, he very clearly reaches for the shiny silver star cookie-cutter.

“good choice!” patton cheers, and leans in to kiss logan on the forehead. “stars it is. it’s a shame you don’t have teeth to eat these with.”

he puts his finger in logan’s hand, so he has something to grab at, and sets the cookie cutter out of sight. logan then proceeds to drag patton’s finger toward his mouth, just to chew at it. as patton expected.

“oh, that’s a good idea,” meredith says, and then holds up a christmas tree and a reindeer cookie cutter in logan’s line of sight. with his free hand that isn’t currently holding patton’s finger to his mouth, he reaches for the tree.

and so begins a parade of people consulting the baby on cookie shape choices. granted, sometimes logan doesn’t always make a choice—at silas, logan makes a disdainful noise and starts chewing on patton’s finger with even more fervor, seeming to glower at him—but he does reach for quite a few choices, with no pattern that patton can decipher.

at one point, he gets a bit frustrated that he can’t hold any of the things that are being held in front of him, so virgil digs up two blunt, plastic cookie cutters, which means patton is free to wash his hands as logan starts mouthing at a snowflake-shaped cookie cutter, the mitten-shaped one cast aside.

now that the lunch rush is done, the diner’s officially closed for christmas eve and christmas, which means that it’s time for the danes’ to start making christmas cookies. they’re like a well-oiled machine—there’s tons of home-made sugar cookie and gingerbread dough, with essie and freddie making frosting together, freddie occasionally flicking dyed frosting toward her siblings, and essie would only sometimes catch her wrist with a kind of scolding laugh.

virgil, with a streak of purple across his cheek and a clump in his hair, helps patton and annabelle figure out how to best utilize the dough they have, so that they’ll have maximum cookie and minimum scraps.

all the while, christmas music plays, filling up any noise that isn’t taken over by conversations amongst the danes’. and there are conversations. listen, patton’s used to a lot of conversations echoing around a room, but he’s used to people in his parents’ world with their quiet, politely pitched voices, so that their gossip and snide commentary wouldn’t carry to their targets.

the danes’ have no such concerns.

their loud, booming laughs and indignant squawks and clamorous chatter and roaring responses and impassioned, ranting interruptions could maybe be heard from outside, let alone within the same room. it’s cacophonous, rowdy chaos.

any unwritten, strict rules of conversation that patton’s been preached to have been cheerfully thrown out the window. he can jump from conversation to conversation as he pleases, and no one seems to mind that he does because everyone’s doing the same thing. he can join mark and meredith’s debate over what constitutes a good christmas cookie, then chime in on his opinion on a book that he, annabelle, and wyatt have all read, and back up virgil when freddie pokes fun at him.

even virgil and silas, whose argument patton remembers vividly, are bumping elbows, and silas tousles virgil’s hair as he traps him under his arm, but it’s less like a dangerous, harmful thing and more like sibling squabbling, especially considering freddie joins right in by leaping on silas and yelling “YOUNGEST SIBLINGS ALLIANCE!” and essie trying to yank her off while proclaiming about the twinly treaty, while wyatt watches calmly from the sidelines and mark and meredith break them up with the weary, well-meaning tones of parents who have done this a million times before.

patton’s never seen anything so different; he’s an only child, from such a different world, and chris, his closest friend, is an only child, too. siblings are so strange. there are no manners. there aren’t any lingering hurt feelings. it’s almost like family time out of a movie, except it’s so much more chaotic and messy.

patton loves it.

as the cookies bake, the entire family works together to start decorating the tree, placed proudly in the center of the diner. none of the matchy-matchy, expensive, fancy ornaments that patton was never allowed to touch. cardboard boxes full of past childhood ornaments made during school, which erupt into various stories and reminiscing about the sideshire schoolteachers, cheesy souvenir ornaments from the various travels of every danes, including some new ones that mean lots of questions about what they’d been doing there, a popcorn-and-cranberry garland that essie, annabelle, and silas are still making even as wyatt drapes it round and round the tree.

somehow, the whole gaudy thing works; glinting with glittery ornaments and two strands of lights, it’s visible from the outside, when patton obligingly steps out to check and see. he helps everyone stack their presents under the tree—it turns out, the danes' have some color-coding going for their gifts. gold wrapping paper means they're presents for mrs. danes, silver for mr. danes, green for wyatt, red for essie, pink for annabelle, black for silas, yellow for freddie, purple for virgil. so patton ends up kind of organizing the presents so it's like a color wheel around the tree; everyone's presents, all together so they can just go to their color instead of hunt every present ringing the tree.

even as disorganized as they seem, it’s clear that the danes’ are a well-oiled machine, because by the time everyone decrees the tree satisfactory the cookies are cooled enough to decorate.

“i’ve never actually decorated cookies like this before,” patton says, as virgil passes him a piping bag full of icing—they’re splitting up all the icing into tiny bowls and piping bags, so everyone’s got their own little icing station. everyone's already wearing an old meredith's branded apron, from before virgil took over the diner.

“what, with a piping bag?” virgil asks. "it's pretty easy, once you get the hang of it, you can practice on some of that wax paper if you want—"

"no, i mean," patton says, "we usually order christmas cookies to send to people. like, caterers or bakeries usually take care of it. i've never actually gotten to make my own christmas cookies."

there is dead silence around the prepping station in the diner's kitchen. then:

" what," freddie breathes out, disbelievingly. "never? never ever?!"

"never ever," patton agrees. "i mean, maybe when i was really tiny, but—"

"you've never even made a ginger you?" essie says, incredulous. "or—a gingerbread house? not even one of the ones that come in kits?"

patton briefly imagines his mom's reaction if he brought in some cheap, pre-made gingerbread house to assemble. to make a mess, in her kitchen? even if she never actually used the kitchen, it’s still hers, and—

patton shakes his head, and there's an explosion of questions— have you never decorated a cookie EVER, do you even eat gingerbread, do you bake stuff usually—?

"well, i've baked stuff before, but," patton says, and swats at virgil when he snorts.

"you burned 'em, didn't you?"

patton huffs, but doesn't deny it. because, well. he did. it's really probably for the best that the professionals were in charge of these christmas cookies, because he definitely would have messed them up somehow.

"what do you eat on christmas?" silas demands.

"um," patton says, scratching at his temple, "whatever catering that people have got, on christmas eve, and my parents usually have a party on christmas that has these amazing apple tarts, i swear they're the best part of christmas—"

"well, at least there's some kind of traditional dessert," meredith says.

"not all families are so food-centric, dear," mark says.

"well, i know, but." meredith says. " still. no christmas cookies, ever?"

"well, that does it, then," freddie says decisively. "you get first pick."

there's a rush of agreement from everyone—well, silas is silent, but he doesn't disagree—and patton tilts his head quizzically.

"get a dozen of these, whichever ones you want," virgil says, gesturing to the huge amount of cookies on the cooling rack.

"surely you're going to make a gingerbread self," wyatt says, and there's a burst of recommendations of what cookies he should get, pointing to the best specimens of each cookie shape, and patton just kind of ends up going for a little bit of everything—stars, trees, a reindeer, an angel, an ornament, a snowman, a bell, and yes, a gingerbread man—and stares, bemused, at the tools virgil sets in front of him.

"um," patton says, and virgil laughs—not in a mean way, but still enough to make patton flush a little.

"okay," he says. "so, when you hold a piping bag, there are a couple grips you can go with, and it mostly depends on the kind of decoration you're doing... "

and so begins patton's lessons in frosting christmas cookies.

mark shows him how to best ensure that there aren't any air bubbles in the icing.

meredith tells him about how to mix together icing on wax paper to get the exact color he wants, like he's a painter or something.

wyatt, with his steady surgeon's hands, shows him how to ice beautiful, delicate-looking flowers.

essie shows him how to best press down sprinkles without getting stray bits stuck where he doesn't want them.

annabelle, laughingly, demonstrates the best way to push his hair out of his eyes without accidentally smearing pastel blue frosting across his forehead.

freddie demonstrates how to throw cookies like ninja-style throwing stars, but that's less a decoration lesson and more of a way to directly target someone who teases her about her messy cookies.

even silas shows him how to use a toothpick to get even, straight lines.

and virgil helps him fix his mistakes, and helps him move things when his hands are too sticky to move anything without getting it messy too, and even helps break down a cookie so he can make a little gingerbread baby, for logan.

and even if patton's icing jobs look messy in comparison to mark's practiced work, or wyatt's even, steady lines, they fit right in with freddie's colorful, smudged ones, and annabelle's, which she mostly requests essie's help with.

"it's really more about the fun of the thing," meredith says, when she sees him looking between wyatt's and his own. "did you have fun?"

patton grins and nods, and she gives him a thumbs up.

"well then," she says decisively. "i mean, they're all going to have the same thing happen to them. and even if they're messy, i promise you they'll taste just as good. go on."

so patton picks up a star, the first one he'd iced—with shaky little blue swirls and silver glitter—and crunches into it.

it's just crisp enough on the outside and soft on the inside, with sugary, yummy icing, and, well. even if patton's icing might be a bit ugly, he can't deny that meredith's right.

so he picks up a blank star, and he starts icing again.

⁂

“logan,” patton says, around a mouthful of gingersnap cookie, “it seriously is a shame that you don’t have teeth to eat these.”

logan, who’s fixated on the television—virgil guesses all the colors and sounds must be super interesting, to a baby—doesn’t seem to care very much.

"these are the best christmas cookies i’ve ever had, ever,” patton says sincerely. “thank you.”

“you’ve said that a million times,” meredith says, amused. “you’re welcome.”

she passes him another as she speaks. honestly, virgil would kind of start interceding, but his mom has the same “must feed” gene that he does, except she doesn’t pay as much attention to things like nutritional value. he doesn’t blame her; patton’s wearing an old sweater that’s been handed down to him, and it's big enough that it makes him look pretty scrawny.

some danes’ (silas, mark, and wyatt) are in the kitchen, making an endless parade of appetizers and snacky-type things that are fighting for space on virgil's coffee table, shoved to the side of the room, whereas others (meredith, freddie, essie, and annabelle) are parked in virgil’s living room with him and patton to watch the collection of christmas movies wyatt had lugged in from his car.

currently, ralphie is fantasizing about going blind from soap poisoning as freddie mouths dramatically along with his parents’ wailing, she and virgil parked beside each other on the ground. freddie doesn’t move too much, though, because she’d loudly complained at essie until she’d started playing with her hair. so essie had obliged, one hand poking out from the blanket she's tangled under with annabelle, brushing her fingers absently through freddie’s hair.

his mom’s in an armchair, which leaves patton lying down on the loveseat so that logan can get some tummy time, heads turned so that they can watch tv. patton keeps absently running his hand up and down logan’s back—well, admittedly, there isn’t much to run his hand up and down, he’s a baby, and a somewhat small baby for his age, at that—and virgil can see logan’s eyes, reflecting the light of the tv.

virgil notices out of the corner of his eyes that he’s seeing less and less of patton’s eyes. they go half-lidded, then closing before occasionally opening, and then—

“patton,” he says softly, just as an experiment, and patton doesn’t so much as stir. it does, however, draw his mother’s attention.

“oh, poor thing’s all tuckered out, isn’t he?” his mom comments, in a suitable undertone.

“yeah, he’s been pretty strung-out lately,” virgil murmurs, and, hesitantly, gets to his feet, hunting for a blanket he’s got stashed somewhere. and then a little odd dance ensues; he puts the blanket over patton without covering logan up too much, and then, carefully, ever so carefully, he lifts logan from patton’s chest and secures him in his arms.

“i didn’t want him to fall,” he explains to his mom, as he tugs the blanket the rest of the way up, to cover patton.

“probably a smart choice,” his mom says. “i could take him, if—“

“no, that’s okay,” virgil says, looking down at logan as he adjusts his hold; logan seems to cuddle closer, and virgil stares as logan lets out a squeaky, strange little yawn.

“you’re sleepy too, huh?” he asks, and logan’s tongue pokes out, just a little, just enough that something in virgil’s heart feels like it’s swelling from the sheer adorableness of it.

so virgil settles on the ground in front of the loveseat, and keeps his hold on logan, watching as his eyes slide shut, too.

“strung out?” his mom asks, and virgil would shrug, if he wasn’t holding a baby that’s slowly falling asleep.

“logan’s got colic,” virgil explains in an undertone, “which we’ll probably hear, soon enough, and he’s been working a lot.” a beat, and then, “i think he’s having trouble sleeping too.”

honestly, virgil’s pretty relieved that he’s fallen asleep; the bags under his eyes have been growing deeper and deeper, and his requests for caffeine have started to slide from jokingly desperate to actually desperate.

his mother tsks and murmurs “poor thing” and virgil can practically see her plotting before his very eyes. you know what? not the worst thing in the world. patton could afford some motherly spoiling during his first christmas away from his family.

hadn’t that kind of been the intention when he’d asked patton and logan to join the family christmas, anyway?

and so his mother plots, and logan snoozes, and essie and annabelle snuggle, and freddie acts along, and patton sleeps.

and keeps sleeping.

the fact that danes’ and colicky logan keep quiet for as long as they do is a miracle. they ensue in furiously silent rock-paper-scissors matches to see whose movie of choice is played next, and when they do speak, it’s in whispers. and logan—honestly, virgil’s not sure if he’s ever been so quiet for such a long stretch of time in his whole life. he’s quiet during the grinch that stole christmas, and love actually, and it happened on fifth avenue, and he fusses a little during the santa clause, but it’s easily enough fixed. well. with his dad’s help.

but patton’s nap is starting to move into full day’s sleep by the time his dad is loading in home alone, and logan lets out a piteous wail, and patton starts awake, hand going to where logan was lying on his chest, and virgil quickly turns so that patton can see logan in his arms.

“oh, hey,” patton mumbles, reaches for logan, and gets to his feet. “hey, hey, hey, you feeling okay?”

“we changed him, earlier,” virgil says, and then patton seems to notice that the sun has set, and he startles again.

“i,” he says, and shakes himself. “sorry, virgil, i can’t remember where your bathroom is—?”

virgil points, and patton goes.

“after this one, i think it’ll be dinnertime,” his dad says thoughtfully.

“finally, i’m starving,” silas says. “did we have to delay it for so long?”

“don’t be mean, silas,” essie chides gently. “we’ve waited while you took naps.”

“yeah, when we were four,” silas says.

“silas matthew,” their father scolds wearily, and silas scowls, fixating his stare on the tv screen, effectively ignoring the rest of them. but he doesn’t shift away when essie nudges him, then puts a hand on his arm, as if to keep him on her left side, annabelle to her right.

well, essie’s always been able to get through to silas when none of them ever have. virgil guesses it’s the twin thing.

if silas stops being an asshole for one day, it’ll be a christmas miracle.

⁂

patton feels... fuzzy.

that’s the best way he knows how to put it, or, at least, it’s the best way he can come up with right now. he isn’t sure how long he’d slept—it had to have been hours—but such a huge amount of sleep at an unexpected time has patton feeling slow, and dazed, and stupid, but that that last bit isn’t too unusual.

the danes’ have kindly—what else is new, they’ve been nothing but kind—been politely quiet about how long it takes patton to catch up to their conversations, or understand their jokes, or tune in to their requests to pass coasters or if he wants a bite of the appetizers they’re snacking on as they wind down home alone.

patton’s claimed the floor. they’d tried to get him to stay on the loveseat, when he came back from feeding logan, but he’d refused. he’d monopolized it all day, and really, if he fell asleep again then patton would be kissing goodbye to any ragged semblance of a sleep schedule that he still had.

so patton’s on the floor, and mr. and mrs. danes have taken over the loveseat, with virgil beside him on the ground and annabelle in the armchair and wyatt examining freddie’s ankle flexibility, or something, on the couch, freddie peppering him with questions all the while.

essie and silas... huh. patton actually has no idea where essie and silas have got off to. last patton knew, essie had gone back to help silas make some adult-only drinks (”absolutely none for either of you!” meredith had said, clearly not aware of patton’s history with drinking adult drinks since he was about thirteen) about... well, half an hour ago, maybe, and they haven’t been back since.

it’s been easy to be distracted, though, because he’s pretty sure that mrs. danes’ favorite drink is apparently spiked eggnog, and she’s certainly had enough to show it, a pretty pink blush high in her pale cheeks. she’s leaning over, again, cooing softly at logan, who babbles gleefully and reaches for her understated, dully glinting jewelry.

“little hands,” she coos, poking him in the midst of his chubby little palms, and logan babbles, smiling, as she squishes her hands gently between her fingers.

“little feets! itty bitty baby feets!”

logan squeals as she squishes his feet much in the same way, kicking, and patton doesn’t even realize he’s beaming wide until meredith reaches over to gently squish his cheek between her fingers, too, in a move that’s so thoughtlessly, habitually maternal, so casual in its kindness and affection, it strikes patton dumb.

affection’s been hard to come by, for a lot of his life. affection gives without expectation or later price to pay has been even rarer, maybe even nonexistent. even after his time in sideshire, where it seems to overflow, it overwhelms him.

“and,” she says, turning her attention back to the baby, “a... little... noooose!”

logan proceeds making delightful baby noises, and even tries for a few claps of his hands, the way patton’s been showing him, and patton leans in to gently clap above him again, just to show him.

“yay, logan!” he cheers quietly. “yay! can you say yay?”

he knows it’s too early to except logan to talk, but really, yay isn’t that complicated of a word. it’s just one syllable, and really, logan’s babbling in semi-recognizable syllables now anyway.

“how about a laugh?” patton prods. “you’re so close, can i get a laugh?”

logan’s gotten so close to laughing, and he’s on track to laugh, even if it’d be early it’s not unheard of early, so maybe this’ll do it. he’d love it if he heard his son’s first laugh tonight.

he’s such a smart baby, patton thinks, swelling with pride. really, logan might just be the smartest baby that’s ever lived. he’s pretty sure that every parent thinks that, but really, patton’s pretty sure that he’s the right one here.

patton, so overcome by paternal happiness, sweeps logan up into his arms and waltzes his way to his feet, spinning, as he presses noisy kisses into logan’s cheeks, mwahmwahmwahmwahmwah! as logan shrieks and squeals and patton spins, so full of love for him, and—

and in the midst of his spin, he looks at just the right time, he glimpses a clear shot to virgil’s balcony.

well, it’s really too teeny to be a full balcony, like his balcony back at his parents’ house, so it’s really only enough space for two-ish people and a near-indestructible potted fern. it’s more of a mezzanine, or whatever the mini-version of a balcony is called.

and there are two people clustered together. silas, his arms wrapped around his stomach, and even in the low light and the distance patton can see that his face is achingly vulnerable, as he bows his head, and essie, equally obviously, empathetic, reaches out her hands to put on his shoulders, and patton just barely sees a snatch of essie pulling her brother into a hug, holding him tight, and that’s it, that’s all patton sees before he continues twirling with his son.

he doesn’t look again. it’s what he’d want, if he was silas. besides, that seems like a pretty private family thing.

⁂

patton’s sure he’s never had such a well-fed, delicious christmas eve in his life, and he hasn’t even eaten dinner yet .

everything looks absolutely mouthwatering—it’s the traditional kind of christmas day meal that he usually has at his parents’, turkey and mashed potatoes and rolls and that kind of thing, except the danes version has clear deviations: green bean casserole, which he’s never had, he doesn’t think, sweet potato casserole with brown sugar and pecans on top, fresh cranberry sauce instead of canned, homemade gravy instead of store-bought, corn made off the cob instead of canned.

they’d dragged together some tables in the diner rather than attempt to engineer virgil’s tiny table to get nine people (plus a baby) to fit, so they're all seated beside the christmas tree. he’s got his back to the doorway leading to virgil’s apartment, so he’d be able to steal away and tend to logan faster without disturbing anyone, if logan needed it, and he probably would. he’d been so quiet when patton had napped, he’s sure that his schedule’s gotten pretty messed up, too. logan is parked in the carrier, on a booth table, clearly visible to everyone at the table.

well, really, it's mostly for patton's benefit, he's pretty sure, because once he looks away from his son to start paying attention to the conversations around him, he looks back right in time to see meredith looking at him knowingly.

patton smiles, sheepishly, and she nods, as if to say i get it. well, she's had five kids. she probably gets it more than he does. actually, she definitely gets it more than he does. patton's absolutely clueless.

but before either of them can say anything, mark gently taps a spoon against his plastic cup—it doesn't provide as clear a ting-ting-ting as the crystal-cut glasses his parents would use—and everyone quiets down.

mark lifts his cup.

"another year gone," he says. "it's been wonderful to see you all in town again. now that we're all getting older, it hits me each and every year how precious this time is. of course, i'm proud of you— all of you—are going out there and making your own life, but i can't help but think about how bittersweet it is that family time is getting fewer and far between."

"aw, dad," freddie mumbles.

" but, " mark continues. "again. i am very proud. of all of you."

he meets eyes with everyone at the table, and, after he's inclined his head ever so slightly at patton, patton stares down at his empty plate.

not you, he scolds himself. of course he's not proud of you, he's barely known you for six days and honestly, what have you done to make anyone proud of you?

it doesn't stop the rebellious little flare of warmth that he feels, though.

"the past few days have been wonderful. i have cherished this time together. i love being your dad—" annabelle looks choked up—"whether you're with me or if you're out making your own life. so," he says, and lifts a glass. "i'll keep the sappy stuff short, as we have this fantastic meal laid out before us. so. merry christmas and a happy new year, everyone."

"merry christmas," everyone rumbles, lifting their glass, and patton belatedly does so too. mark lifts up the platter of cut turkey, and meredith helps herself, before doing the same for him, and the passing of food begins.

patton's plate just about overflows.

"you know you can get seconds," virgil says to him an undertone, amused, and patton flushes as he attempts to stack his rolls back from where they've toppled off his plate.

"everything looks so good," he says defensively.

"again," virgil says, who really has no room to talk, his food's about to spill over the edges of his plate too, "seconds."

patton decides to do the mature thing: he sticks out his tongue at virgil, shoves one of his rolls into his mouth practically whole, and then tries not to choke on his overlarge mouthful.

virgil stifles his laughter into his glass of wine.

patton's right to have so much on his plate, because everything is amazing. patton's world full of fiddly food, more about the aesthetic and the finery than the actual taste, would have never dreamed of having food like this, but honestly, everyone might have been a bit more cheerful if they'd stooped to eating food that was prepared in a diner.

if he'd had these warm, fluffy dinner rolls. if he'd had the fragrant, fruity, frankly yummy fresh cranberry sauce he gets to smear over his rolls. if he'd had these buttery, yummy mashed potatoes with a pool of gravy that he can soak up with his bread. if he'd had the opportunity to try green bean casserole with the crumbly little french onion bits on top. if he'd had sweet potato casserole, which patton goes back for seconds before he's even finished his first serving. if he'd had this moist, good turkey, rather than the tradition of his father having first carve and then it being ferried away for the servants to do the actual carving.

if he'd had people who, even as they gently teased him about taking more food, loaded more on his plate when he was looking away, if he'd had people who were earnest about wanting to know what he'd thought, if he'd had people who were as welcoming of him being the way he is, if he'd had people who were less critical and more accepting, then maybe he would...

patton firmly redirects his thoughts. i'm deciding after christmas. after christmas. pay attention to what's happening now.

and, in what patton's starting to think is typical of danes style, there's a lot to pay attention to; granted, there aren't a ton of conversations happening because of the spectacular, delicious food, but there are still a couple peppering the table that jump freely from topic to topic. there's also a lot of wordless gestures for certain foods (the rolls make quite a few rotations around the table) and salt and pepper and so on, and every once in a while someone will get up to refill their drink and will be met with a flurry of requests, but for the most part, it's... quiet. easy.

warm, patton thinks. it's warm. not just temperature-wise—it is nice and toasty in the diner—but it's warm in the sense of how the danes' interact with each other. there are a lot of smiles and compliments on the food and conversation, and... and at this point on a typical holiday, patton's shoulders would be tensed up, waiting for some kind of comment, except he's never made it this far into the holiday without that kind of comment and stop stop stop.

there is one thing, without fail, that makes patton feel better. so patton gets to his feet and shuffles over to check on logan, who looks close to falling asleep, pacifier solidly in his mouth, and patton reaches out to run a thumb gently down his cheek.

"you okay?" he asks him softly, and logan blinks at him slowly once, twice, and patton feels the corner of his lip quirk up.

"yeah, you're okay," he says, in the same soft tone, relieved. and you will be okay, i promise. no matter what happens, i'll make sure you're okay.

"is he good?" comes from behind him, making patton jump. he turns back to virgil, who's looking at him quizzically, still seated at the table.

"yeah, he's good," patton says, and smiles wryly at him. "i mean, no telling how long it'll last, but—"

"yeah, he's good," virgil says, and cocks his head. "he looks ready to fall asleep, doesn't he?"

"yeah," patton says, and takes a breath. he'd been right, seeing logan does make him feel better. "i should probably leave him to it."

"he'll need you, soon enough," virgil says, so patton goes and sits back down at his spot at the table.

it has calmed him down—it's like just taking a second with logan has provided the same effect of a whole, calming day at his parents', not just a few seconds.

so patton throws himself back into the conversation, and keeps glancing over at logan, who even offers him a wave or a noise every once in a while, and it feels... right. it just feels right .

#my post #text #the sideshire files #my fic #my fanfic #sanders sides #love light gleams

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fyrapartnersearch · 4 years

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Why can't I hold all these cool stories?

CURRENT CRAVINGS: Please see this GDoc, because I have some plots I’d like to try! I’m primarily interested in original plots and characters; setting them in original worlds or fandom worlds is fine. I am not interested in playing canons other than as side characters/world filler as of right now.

DISCORD: KYLO REN AT CHILI’S#8808

PERSONAL PREFERENCES

I’m over eighteen, and would prefer my partners are, too. This doesn’t mean I’m interested in NSFW-heavy plots; I do not write smut. It just means I’m more comfortable writing and interacting with other adults.

I consider myself to be lit-adv. I tend to enjoy partners in the lit+ category, but as long as you’re an enthusiastic and engaging partner, I don’t care about perfect grammar. I would rather write with someone just as involved and excited as I am, than I would with someone who isn't very engaging but knows exactly what to do with obscure punctuation.

I’m not interested in playing only one type of character or playing against only one type of character. I typically don’t enjoy writing with people who are only interested in playing one type of relationship dynamic or one kind of character (such as only m/f, playing the female, or m/m, playing the “bottom”). I have no problem with these dynamics or characters at all, nor do I have an issue playing against them. I just prefer more variety, compromise, and opportunity.

OOC chatter is really important to me. I can’t write with someone that I don’t feel like I can get to know. I’m looking for friends, not a faceless reply robot. I won’t communicate over any medium but Discord. I've tried Kik, Hangouts, etc.; they just don't stick for me. If you would prefer first contact be through email, you can shoot me a quick message and your handle to [email protected].

I’m fine with threading in a GDoc or a server, but I will not thread over DMs. It’s difficult to have OOC chatter and the thread over the top of each other.

If you're looking for a partner that writes a reply a day without fail, that's not me. I prefer that we don't have "posting schedules” or set posting times, because I find that it turns writing into a chore. It's great if you reply immediately, and it's totally okay if you need a week to figure something out! You’re absolutely free to poke me. I’m not always the most mindful. However, I’m not going to reply every day. Three to four times a week is my frequency.

PLOT PREFERENCES

I’m interested in both fandom and original settings, and I’m down for playing both canon characters and OCs. I don’t necessarily prefer one or the other.

I definitely prefer canon doubling from my partners in fandom plots; I mesh better with people who do a little give-and-take when it comes to that. If you only play one canon character or only play OCs against canons and won’t play canons, I don’t think we’ll work.

I can play as many characters as needed, whether it's just one or it's six. Whatever our story calls for, I can manage that. In fact, I would love to play multiple “main” pairings so we can both get what we want, versus a single main pairing (unless it’s a pairing/dynamic we both like equally well). I find more than one facet to a plot really interesting, and multiple characters helps flesh out a story’s dimensions.

I’m absolutely interested in joining groups, so please don’t be shy about asking me to participate in plots with more than two players. So long as they don’t involve me writing sexual NSFW, we’re Gucci; everyone else writing NSFW isn’t a deal breaker for me.

Multiple threads and plots at the same time are no issue for me. In fact, I love the idea that we click so well that we just can't stop coming up with good ideas! So definitely don't be afraid to pitch something new to me, whether it's because you want to switch gears (and drop a thread for another), or want to do everything at once.

Romance is a must for me! I prefer slow and agonizing journeys to get there, but my attention is best held by romantic chemistry between characters.

I can provide writing samples upon request, though I never require them from my partner. Additionally, I have some plots written out if you're interested in that sort of thing. Otherwise, we can brainstorm together!

FANDOMS

I’m very much a fandom player. I’m always down for AUs, or inserting our own characters into the plots of fandoms! This is in no way a complete list; never be afraid to ask if I’m into something! I’ve probably forgotten a hundred things I love.

Most of my fandoms will have favorite canon characters listed with them, both who I like playing and playing against; you’re always welcome to ask about others not listed.* There’s a good chance I’m pretty good with them!

*I will play OCs in every fandom, but I might not play canons in every fandom.

ALWAYS

The Bartimaeus Trilogy (Nathaniel, Kitty Jones, and Bartimaeus), DC (any Titan, Jinx, Arthur Curry, Steve Trevor, Circe, and Diana Prince), Elder Scrolls (player canons and/or OCs preferred, but feel free to ask about canons), Fallout: New Vegas and 4 (Arcade Gannon, Paladin Danse, R.J. MacCready, Arthur Maxson, Veronica Santangelo, Cait, Rose of Sharon Cassidy, and player canons), Game of Thrones (Sansa Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Ramsay Bolton, and Willas Tyrell), His Dark Materials (OCs preferred), Hunger Games (OCs preferred), Inception (Arthur, and Eames, but OCs preferred), Marvel (Peter Parker, Scott Lang, Bucky Barnes, Miles Morales, Loki Laufeyson, Thor Odinson, Gwen Stacy, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Kitty Pryde, and Megan Gwynn), Miraculous Ladybug (Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste), The Mortal Instruments (Simon Lewis, Raphael Santiago, and Alec Lightwood), Percy Jackson and the Olympians (Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo, Annabeth Chase, Will Solace, Piper McLean, and Leo Valdez), Star Trek (Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy, S'chn T'gai Spock, and Pavel Chekov), Star Wars (Obi Wan Kenobi, Jacen Solo, Jaina Solo, Jagged Fel, Mara Jade Skywalker, Rey Skywalker, Poe Dameron, Luke Skywalker, Boba Fett, Sintas Vel, and Ahsoka Tano), The Walking Dead (Glenn Rhee, and Negan), Warriors (Firestar, Squirrelflight, Jayfeather, and Hawkfrost)

SOMETIMES

Boku no Hero Academia (Bakugo Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Shinsou Hitoshi, Kaminari Denki, Kirishima Eijiro, Todoroki Shoto, and Uraraka Ochaco), Bungou Stray Dogs (OCs preferred, but feel free to ask about canons), Digimon (OCs preferred), Dragon Age (Fenris, Cullen Rutherford, Cassandra Pentaghast, and Dorian Pavus), Final Fantasy VII (Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Reno, and Sephiroth), Harry Potter (Narcissa Malfoy, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Regulus Black, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Luna Lovegood; play my favorite ship with me, and I'll do whatever you want, literally.), Mystic Messenger (Choi Saeyoung, Han Jumin, Kang Jaehee, and Choi Saeran), Naruto (Hatake Kakashi, Umino Iruka, Gaara, Hyuuga Hinata, and Uchiha Sasuke), Ouran High School Host Club (Ootori Kyouya, Hitachiin Hikaru, and Hitachiin Kaoru), Pokémon (Red, Blue, N, Guzma, and player canons)

NOT SURE, BUT WILLING TO EXPLORE

Avatar: the Last Airbender (particularly Zutara), Eragon, Howl's Moving Castle, Kiznaiver, The Legend of Zelda, Soul Eater, Steven Universe, Tokyo Ghoul, Twilight, Yuri!!! on Ice

GENRES

For the most part, I’ll genuinely play most any genre! Of course, everyone says that, but then they shoot down all your suggestions because everyone has stuff they don’t like doing. I’ll try to make this as brief as I can, and know that if something isn’t listed, but you’re pretty sure (based on everything else) that I’m into it, then definitely let me know what you’re thinking!

SETTINGS

A/B/O (I will not play only alphas for only omegas, nor will I play overly trope-y, non-con, “boys love”/"yaoi" plots.), Age of Sail, alien worlds/alien invasions, celebrity, fairytales and mythology (including “inspired by” retellings), fantasy (including medieval, urban, and high fantasy), alt-historical and modern royalty, mutants/gifted, organized crime, science fiction (especially including aliens), some historical (excluding medieval, colonial, and the Roaring Twenties/Great Depression), supernatural, Victorian (especially the London ton), post-apocalyptic

PAIRING DYNAMICS

arranged marriage (I’m always down for slinging our characters together, whether or not they want to. It’s always a bonus if their families hate each other.), enemies to lovers (I love conflict of any sort, especially romantic!), human x not-human (The not-human must be sentient.), bad guy x good guy, intellectual x emotional, captive x captured (especially when the captured is willful, annoying, and full of fight), step-siblings (I don’t play step-parents x step-kids, so please don’t ask!), status/power imbalances (such as characters being from different socioeconomic strata or different ranks/positions in an organization), celebrity x bodyguard (I’m okay with the celebrity being the son/daughter/offspring of someone famous!), famous x not famous, rivals of any sort, unwilling traveling companions, unwilling soulmates

If any of this interests you, please feel free to reach out to me however! I'm really looking forward to hearing from you!

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #oneline #long term #messenger #marvel rp #harry potter rp #marauders rp #mcu rp #dc rp #submission

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rp-dreamland · 4 years

Text

Why can't I hold all these cool stories?

DISCORD: KYLO REN AT CHILI’S#8808

TIMEZONE: CST

PERSONAL PREFERENCES

I consider myself to be lit-adv. I tend to enjoy partners in the lit+ category, but as long as you’re an enthusiastic and engaging partner, I don’t care about perfect grammar. I would rather write with someone just as involved and excited as I am, than I would with someone who isn’t very engaging but knows exactly what to do with obscure punctuation.

OOC chatter is really important to me. I can’t write with someone that I don’t feel like I can get to know. I’m looking for friends, not a faceless reply robot. I won’t communicate over any medium but Discord. I’ve tried Kik, Hangouts, etc.; they just don’t stick for me. If you would prefer first contact be through email, you can shoot me a quick message and your handle to [email protected].

I’m fine with threading in a GDoc or a server, but I will not thread over DMs. It’s difficult to have OOC chatter and the thread over the top of each other.

If you’re looking for a partner that writes a reply a day without fail, that’s not me. I prefer that we don’t have “posting schedules” or set posting times, because I find that it turns writing into a chore. It’s great if you reply immediately, and it’s totally okay if you need a week to figure something out! You’re absolutely free to poke me. I’m not always the most mindful. However, I’m not going to reply every day. Three to four times a week is my frequency.

PLOT PREFERENCES

I’m interested in both fandom and original settings, and I’m down for playing both canon characters and OCs. I don’t necessarily prefer one or the other.

I can play as many characters as needed, whether it’s just one or it’s six. Whatever our story calls for, I can manage that. In fact, I would love to play multiple “main” pairings so we can both get what we want, versus a single main pairing (unless it’s a pairing/dynamic we both like equally well). I find more than one facet to a plot really interesting, and multiple characters helps flesh out a story’s dimensions.

Multiple threads and plots at the same time are no issue for me. In fact, I love the idea that we click so well that we just can’t stop coming up with good ideas! So definitely don’t be afraid to pitch something new to me, whether it’s because you want to switch gears (and drop a thread for another), or want to do everything at once.

Romance is a must for me! I prefer slow and agonizing journeys to get there, but my attention is best held by romantic chemistry between characters.

I can provide writing samples upon request, though I never require them from my partner. Additionally, I have some plots written out if you’re interested in that sort of thing. Otherwise, we can brainstorm together!

FANDOMS

*I will play OCs in every fandom, but I might not play canons in every fandom.

ALWAYS

SOMETIMES

Boku no Hero Academia (Bakugo Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Shinsou Hitoshi, Kaminari Denki, Kirishima Eijiro, Todoroki Shoto, and Uraraka Ochaco), Bungou Stray Dogs (OCs preferred, but feel free to ask about canons), Digimon (OCs preferred), Dragon Age (Fenris, Cullen Rutherford, Cassandra Pentaghast, and Dorian Pavus), Final Fantasy VII (Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Reno, and Sephiroth), Harry Potter (Narcissa Malfoy, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Regulus Black, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Luna Lovegood; play my favorite ship with me, and I’ll do whatever you want, literally.), Mystic Messenger (Choi Saeyoung, Han Jumin, Kang Jaehee, and Choi Saeran), Naruto (Hatake Kakashi, Umino Iruka, Gaara, Hyuuga Hinata, and Uchiha Sasuke), Ouran High School Host Club (Ootori Kyouya, Hitachiin Hikaru, and Hitachiin Kaoru), Pokémon (Red, Blue, N, Guzma, and player canons)

NOT SURE, BUT WILLING TO EXPLORE

Avatar: the Last Airbender (particularly Zutara), Eragon, Howl’s Moving Castle, Kiznaiver, The Legend of Zelda, Soul Eater, Steven Universe, Tokyo Ghoul, Twilight, Yuri!!! on Ice

GENRES

SETTINGS

A/B/O (I will not play only alphas for only omegas, nor will I play overly trope-y, non-con, “boys love”/"yaoi” plots.), Age of Sail, alien worlds/alien invasions, celebrity, fairytales and mythology (including “inspired by” retellings), fantasy (including medieval, urban, and high fantasy), alt-historical and modern royalty, mutants/gifted, organized crime, science fiction (especially including aliens), some historical (excluding medieval, colonial, and the Roaring Twenties/Great Depression), Southern gothic, supernatural, Victorian (especially the London ton), post-apocalyptic

PAIRING DYNAMICS

If any of this interests you, please feel free to reach out to me however! I’m really looking forward to hearing from you!

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ineslundstrom-blog · 6 years

Photo

>> :// LUNDSTRÖM, INES S.: DOSSIER

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Ines Sigrid Lundström

DATE OF BIRTH: December 15

AGE: 37

ZODIAC: Sagittarius

GENDER: Non-binary / Demifemale

PRONOUNS: They/Them and She/Her

HOMETOWN: London, England, UK

NATIONALITY: English (Eurasian Nation)

ETHNICITY: Swedish, English, Scottish

SEXUALITY: Panromantic pansexual

MARITAL STATUS: Single

EDUCATION: B.Sc. in Civil and Structural Engineering; M.Sc. in Materials Science and Engineering; Engineering Doctorate (EngD)

CURRENT OCCUPATION: Engineer, Remus Mission

APPEARANCE.

HAIR COLOUR: Dark Brown

EYE COLOUR: Blue

HEIGHT: 5 ft, 9 in

WEIGHT: 129 lbs

FACE CLAIM: Rebecca Ferguson

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS: stable, patient, determined, hard-working, diligent

NEGATIVE TRAITS: closed-off, distracted, reserved, confrontational, proud

FAMILY.

MOTHER: Elaina Lundström (née Rice), deceased

FATHER: Hugo Lundström, deceased

SIBLINGS: None

PARTNER: None

CHILDREN: None

SKELETON.

The Engineer specializes in the building and repairing of structures. Since the landing on Remus, they have become a handyman of sorts. They were the one who designed the buildings, the layout of the first town, and was the main individual to assemble the physical form of the town. They technically got their degrees in structural and civil engineering, so they are an expert in constructing stable and strong buildings, which is extremely necessary on a planet with high wind speeds. They’re the one people call if something bends or breaks.

HEADCANONS.

tw: parental death

For as long as Ines can remember, they’ve been interested in the design, structure and functionality of everything around them. Their mother was an acclaimed architect in the Eurasian Nation, known for contributing to the design of the nation’s more modern buildings, and their father was an academic who studied the social and psychological effects of a society forced indoors over generations.

As the child of two intellectuals, Ines was presented with no shortage of opportunities to learn. Their first language is Swedish, a language that has dwindled with time and passing generations, which was taught to them by their father. English soon followed. Their parents cultivated a healthy curiosity in them, to always question the whats and the whys and the hows, but the couple had not expected Ines to be as tactile as they would become. Small, stubby fingers stacked building blocks, and then with age came carefully constructed towers of cards and free-standing structures made of whatever scraps they could get their hands on. But simply building something wasn’t enough; Ines wanted to plan for it, to build from a vision, and to get their hands dirty in the creation process.

Their test scores had yielded potential career avenues in civil engineering, computer engineering, mechanical engineering, and architecture. In the end, Ines chose to study in the field of civil engineering (and its sub-discipline, structural engineering), marrying the disciplines that guided their parents’ jobs.

Ines had a few core friends and colleagues they liked and trusted, but they always seemed to have some trouble when it came to opening up to others. Throughout their adolescence, they felt something was off, but it wasn’t until they were in their early twenties that they realized they did not identify along the archaic gender binary. As a self-identified demifemale, they use both they/them and she/her pronouns, and there is fluidity to the way they dress and present.

Being reserved also meant that their prospects for relationships were rather low. When it came down to it, Ines always tended to choose their studies and work over that of entertaining romance, which is why the few relationships they have had over the years never lasted.

Ines was 24 years old when their father passed away of natural causes, and 29 when their mother perished in a construction accident that exposed her to the planet’s toxic atmosphere. The absence of their parents has given them cause for independence, to be self-sufficient, and to also try to establish balance between their work and personal life, with no one around to regularly remind them.

With their only immediate family gone, it seemed like simple math to Ines to accept the offer to join the team on the mission to colonize Remus and Romulus. There is great pressure on the crew to succeed and begin the new colony, but Ines believes it to be a worthy cause to devote their life to. They maintain that they’re doing important work, and that there is great possibility for the team to lay the foundation for a new world.

Ines has a tendency to keep to themself. They made an effort to maintain generally positive relationships with their fellow crew members, though sometimes conversation can become heated when issues are debated. Ines will take constructive criticism but doesn’t like being dismissed or talked over. While patient, they’re determined to make their case and have an informed conversation ⏤ especially when it comes to decisions related to their work.

#✰ ⏤ about.

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cromulentbookreview · 5 years

Text

NeverDarkGodsNightGraveDawn

Never flinch.

Never fear.

And never, ever forget.

Oh shit, I flinched. Sorry. Can we start over?

I’m a huge fan of Jay Kristoff’s collaborations with Amie Kaufman - The Illuminae Files and Aurora Rising are some of my most favorite books ever - so it seemed weird that I hadn’t read any of Kristoff’s other stuff. I’d heard of Nevernight (it’s kind of hard not to if you hand around on book twitter) and I had the first two books on my Kindle, I just hadn’t read them yet. When I snapped up the eARC of Darkdawn and thought to myself: maybe I should actually read these and see what all the fuss is about. People on the internet seem very, very passionate about their love for the Nevernight Chronicle, after all.

Also, if there’s a nerdy bandwagon, I’m bound to join. I like to be included.

So - The Nevernight Chronicle! I just spent the past couple of weeks binge reading through all three books (yes, weeks, I’m slow, OK?), and...holy shit. Like. Really, holy shit.

There is a pretty basic litmus test I’ve devised to determine whether or not someone will like The Nevernight Chronicle. If you want to know if you’ll like The Nevernight Chronicle, ask yourself this: do you like Game of Thrones? Does all the gory violence, graphic sex, and foul language of Game of Thrones not faze you? In fact, does it - gasp! - lend an aspect of realism to the fantastical setting? In fact, do you have a Game of Thrones shaped hole in your life right now now that the TV series has ended and the wait for The Winds of Winter seems endless? Well, then, I’ve the book series for you, Gentlefriends! There is less rape, incest and violence against women in these books, too!

And if you want blood n’ guts n’ gore galore, you shall not be disappointed. Our protagonist, Mia Corvere, hardly goes five pages in any of the three books without stabbing or slashing or punching or otherwise causing someone some form of grievous bodily harm and/or death. While swearing. And smoking. And displaying a general bad attitude.

These books are definitely not for everyone. If you don’t like blood n’ guts n’ gore and foul language and snarky characters, then you won’t like The Nevernight Chronicle. That’s fine, you don’t have to read anything you don’t like and I’m not going to make you.

You’re missing out, though. Seriously.

So! The Nevernight Chronicle! The three books are essentially the tale of the roaring rampage of revenge of a girl named Mia Corvere. When she was ten years old, her beloved father, Dairus Corvere, was hanged as a traitor to the Itreyan Republic. Counsel Julius Scaeva, leader of the republic, then had Mia’s mother and baby brother thrown in prison, where they later died. As for Mia, Scaeva had her put in a barrel to be thrown into a canal, but not before his lackey, Justicus Remus, brutally murders Mia’s beloved cat, Captain Puddles. RIP Captain Puddles, you deserved better even though you weren’t a real cat.

(What I imagine Captain Puddles would’ve been like, had he not been tragically murdered by a mad Australian).

Mia, of course, escapes the barrel, with the help of a living shadow taking the form of a cat, whom she names Mr. Kindly. She takes refuge with a foul-mouthed, foul-tempered shopkeep named Mercurio, who happens to be a member of a church of assassins. Once she’s old enough, Mia heads off to join the Red Church and become a blade (assassin) so that she can acquire the skills to get her revenge on Julius Scaeva.

That’s the main plot of Nevernight, poorly explained and in a nutshell. I’ve mentioned before that I’m not big on assassin stories, but I enjoyed Nevernight mainly because both the writing and the characters were so full of snark. I’m willing to overlook a great deal if there’s a high level of snark involved.

Anyway! In the second book in the series, Godsgrave, Mia discovers that the Red Church and its cohort of assassins isn’t all that she thought it was, so she hatches the world’s most insane plan: she’ll sell herself into slavery, become a gladiatii, and fight her way to the ultimate championship where, if she wins, she’ll get a chance to murder both Scaeva and his partner-in-crime/frenemy, Cardinal Duomo, at the same time.

Of course nothing goes according to plan. Which leads us, finally, to book three: Darkdawn!

It’s tough reviewing the last book of a series if you’re not certain if anyone reading said review has read the first or second books*. I’m just going to proceed as if you’ve already read the books, because, otherwise, there’s a ton of shit I didn’t cover in those “in a nutshell” descriptions of Nevernight and Godsgrave. Like the whole Crown of the Moon thing, the conflict between the goddess Niah and god Aa, or the fact that Itreya has three suns and night only falls once every two and a half years. Or, really, anything about Mia and her Darkin powers or the nature of Mr. Kindly...

But if you’re already a fan and are desperate for some Darkdawn details, you’re probably already eager for me to just get on with it already.

Right-o, then.

So, with all the worldbuilding and anticipation Kristoff built up with Nevernight and Godsgrave, does Darkdawn give us a satisfying conclusion to the story of Mia Corvere?

O, yes, gentlefriend.

Yes it does.

It delivers all that and more. I wonder just how much preparation Kristoff put into these books because every lingering question you have from the first two books is answered. You’re not left hanging.

Yes, basically.

And, let us not forget, that this one of those series where the author promised on page 1 that Mia would die. And thanks to Jay “Meet Your New Favorite Oh Wait They’re Dead” Kristoff, there are plenty of moments in Darkdawn that feel as a little something like this:

Darkdawn absolutely lives up to all the promises made in the first two books - there’s plenty of action, plenty of blood and violence and tastefully written smut. And footnotes!** The book starts right where we left off in Godsgrave - no weird time-jumps, no flash-forwards followed by flashbacks like the first two books, we begin with Mia immediately after the Magni.

After the maps and Dramatis Personae, of course.

In all honesty, though, there’s not much I can say without spoiling everything. But if you’re a fan of the books, rest assured, you will not be disappointed. Everything you’ve been wanting out of a finale for this series you get. Answers, action, pirates, stabbings, sexytimes, pools full of a God’s blood, angry camels, undead ex-lovers, eye gouging, treks across the Ashkahi Whisperwastes, cigarillo smoke, Mr. Kindly and Eclipse bitching at each other, and, you guessed it, more stabbings! Because this is the grand finale of Nevernight we’re talking about. Truedark is here, people. Prepare yourselves!

You are in for one hell of a book.

Oh, hey, by the way: are you aware that the Nevernight Chronicle is not YA? Because, even though it’s very popular with the YA crowd and Kristoff does write other books that are YA, Nevernight is not YA. As Jay Kristoff will tell you, over and over and over and over and over again, it’s not. These are adult books for intended for adults. It’s why, when I go to Powell’s, I find them in the Gold Room, not the Rose Room. If you are an adult with teenage children and you don’t want them reading Nevernight, well, then, you need to do a better job of policing their reading material. You’re the adult in this situation, after all.

To review: if you don’t want your children reading certain books, whose responsibility is it? Mine? No. Yours? Absolutely. And if your kids start checking out forbidden books behind your back to read on the sly, well...that’s your problem. It’s not the librarian’s problem, or the bookseller’s problem and it is most certainly not Jay Kristoff’s problem either. Ask yourself: why does my kid want to read these books so bad that they’re willing to go behind my back? Perhaps its the allure of the forbidden combined with teenage rebellion?

Seriously, my parents never policed what I read, and I turned out just fine. In fact, the only thing my unhindered book consumption led to was a master’s degree in Library Science and a dumb tumblr blog. Don’t worry, neither of these conditions are fatal. I knew kids in Junior High who were reading Stephen King books and, gasp shock, they turned out fine. None of those kids who read It at that age started killing children in rural Maine while dressed as a clown. I’m sure most teens who read Nevernight won’t immediately start smoking cigarillos and run off to join an assassin school, either. Calm the fuck down.

Also, you should watch Black Books.

Back to the review - if this can even be considered a “review” anymore - if I have any complaints about the Nevernight Chronicle it has mostly to do with the world itself. How are there still colors? How can you have color in a world with three - three! - suns? How does everything not immediately become sun-bleached? I mean, with three suns there must be a massive amount of high energy photons pouring down from the sky all the damn time, and eventually violet and ultraviolet light will disrupt chromophore bonds and, well, bleaching anything of color. I mean, American flags on the moon turned into white rectangles pretty quick (before being destroyed by time and being on the moon, of course) and I’ve had to learn the hard way not to shelve books in front of my window, even though there’s shelf space right below said window and it looks real nice and oh shit what happened to all these books’ covers??

Luke Skywalker should be careful staring at those two suns.

Also, how would anyone still have milk pale skin in a world with three suns? Wouldn’t everyone’s skin be much darker? I mean, for all the time Mia spends out under the suns without a hat, she should have freckles. Or melanoma. In fact, everyone in Itreya should have melanoma. And white hair. My hair turns several shades lighter every summer. How can Mia have black hair? Also, having black hair in a world with three suns sounds super uncomfortable. Three suns? Jesus, I’m super pale and have a hard enough time under the one. I’ve got seasonal freckles. Seriously, they appear during the Summer then fade away in the Fall. I got sunburned just reading about Itreya’s three suns. Granted, I was reading the books while outside, sitting under a tree and then the tree’s shadow moved with the sun and I didn’t...

And! AND! How would anyone be able to see? How would you even survive being exposed to that much sunlight? How can albinos like Adonai and Marielle even exist in a world with three suns???

See, this is what happens when I start thinking of things in terms of science when I should just be like “you know what, it’s a story, I’m just going to sit back and enjoy it.”

Also, who am I kidding, Library Science isn’t a real science.

RECOMMENDED FOR: fans of violent, foul-mouthed teenage assassins who solve their problems by stabbing them; people who don’t mind a bit of gore followed by some smut followed by snark followed by more gore.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: If you don’t fall into any categories mentioned in the “recommended for” you should probably read something else.

OVERALL SERIES RATING: 4.5/5 (minus .5 for all those times you get your heart ripped out)

DARKDAWN U.S. RELEASE DATE: September 3, 2019

VERY ACCURATE MIA CORVERE GIF:

CAT RATING:

* Ahahahaha no one reads this blog, I’m kidding myself.

**All those bitching about the use of footnotes in the Nevernight Chronicle should check out Susanna Clarke’s amazing Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. She has footnotes that go on for entire pages. She has entire plotlines living in those footnotes! The footnotes in Strange and Norrell make Nevernight’s footnotes look like citations in a high school book report.

Also, if you don’t like the footnotes, go with the audiobook. The narrator (Holter Graham) manages to blend the footnotes into the narration in a way that kind of freaked me out at first because I just started listening to the audio, and didn’t realize the books even had footnotes. This is what I get for not even bothering to flip through a physical copy of the books before starting the audiobook at work***

***Inappropriate places to listen to the Nevernight audiobook: work. Especially during the scenes featuring sexytimes. I was wearing headphones, but still!

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