#and then you cradle your personal laptop and your personal cheeses and you curl up by your little personal teapot

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: January 25

"All Night" by the Brothers Osborne

[teacupfulofstarshine]

you're the pink in my cheeks (i'm a little bit soft)

summary: "and i know we'll never grow old together / cause you'll never grow old to me / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft"

- "monster," marceline (adventure time)

(OR: 5.4k of soft domestic lesbian!analogical, featuring lesbian!moceit, trans male!remus, trans female!roman, and Gay Shenanigans)

a/n: huge thank you to dandie for beta'ing this fic!

i just wanted to write wlw is that so wrong of me? no. no it is not.

CW: alcohol mentions, a few sex jokes, swearing, one implied instance of potential sexual activity (although it doesn't go any farther than making out; if you want to skip that part, skip the section that starts with "Did you get the right kind of popcorn?")

word count: ~5.4k

read it on ao3!!

“I think I may be going insane,” Logan says, squinting at her laptop screen. Virginia, hanging upside-down in the armchair, looks up from her phone and blinks.

“And why is that?”

“Because I am starting to agree with Rosie’s anti-Florida agenda.”

“I didn’t realize that there was an anti-Florida agenda.”

“Rosie has one, and I have always thought it facetious. However, if this laboratory does not start sending me my requested samples and information in a timely manner, I will be forced to concede that Rosie may have . . . a point.”

“You, agreeing with a lit major? I never thought I’d see the day,” Virginia teases. Logan initially resists the urge to stick her tongue out or flip Virginia off, because that would be childish, but then she remembers that Virginia does not care about her childishness, so she sticks her tongue out. Virginia snorts with laughter, and Logan feels warm, fizzy pop-rocks bursting in her chest.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she picks it up. There’s a new message blinking for her attention on the screen.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

a, b, or c

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

. . . What?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

*rolls eyes*

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

i need you to make a selection, logan. a, b, or c.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

I am confused. What am I selecting between?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Yes. I would like to know. That is why I asked you.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Also, I am not a meteorologist. Or a boy.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

it’s a meme, i’m sure v will be happy to show you the og. but first: make a choice

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Option B, I suppose?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

vodka it is!

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Wait, what?

Her phone buzzes again, another text thread lighting up, and Logan abandons the now-fruitless conversation with Jan to see that her wife has texted.

[from: soda poppy]

y is jan fillin a thermos with vodka and sayin u gave her the go ahead? >:(

[to: soda poppy]

I am unsure. She texted me asking me to make a choice between “a, b, and c” with no context given. When I eventually selected “b,” she excitedly mentioned vodka and logged off.

[from: soda poppy]

her an remy r going 2 a pta meeting tonight an i guess they’re goin drunk

[to: soda poppy]

Is that a . . . normal occurrence?

[from: soda poppy]

sadly yeah

[to: soda poppy]

Wait, is she even allowed to attend PTA meetings? You two don’t have any children?

[from: soda poppy]

she’s on the school board so she has the right 2 attend. idk if she’s supposed to or not but its never stopped her b4

“Everythin’ good over there?” Virginia asks.

“I believe I may have just enabled Jan to attend a PTA meeting drunk.” Virginia snorts, swiping at her phone.

“Good for her, honestly. The only reason she and Poppy live in that neighborhood is so that Jan can flaunt her wife in front of all the capital-s Straight people, because she’s a petty fuckin’ bitch.”

“That is a strange word choice for your best friend.”

“I hate Jan, she’s a bitch,” Virginia says, smirking fondly at her phone. Logan knows her girlfriend well enough to know that this statement is disingenuous, so she stands up, stretching her arms above her head, and leans down to drop a kiss onto Virginia’s forehead.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan blinks awake slowly, feeling for the position of her limbs. She’s on her left side, left arm tucked up under her pillow to cradle her head, wrapped in the thick comforter of their bed. Her right arm is slung across Virginia’s body, and her girlfriend is pressed up against her, head tucked right under Logan’s chin and face nestled into her neck and chest. Virginia breathes, slow and deep and even, and Logan hums, huffing out a soft exhale.

She carefully wiggles out of bed, tucking the comforter around Virginia’s curled-up form. Virginia grumbles when the cool morning air slips against her skin, because she is a foolish woman who insists upon sleeping in short shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top no matter the current weather patterns. Logan wraps her up, making sure that she’s shifted into the middle of the warm divot of body heat, and Virginia settles in, asleep again in a heartbeat.

Logan turns to the corner chair, where her early-morning outfit is already laid out: athletic leggings, a sports bra, a moisture-wicking quarter zip jacket. She changes quietly, lights off, and tugs on a pair of ankle socks before slinking into the bathroom. Once the door is shut, she flicks on the soft lights over the vanity and carefully undoes her sleep braid. Normally, Virginia does Logan’s hair, because Logan is not good at dealing with her wavy, tangled, curly mess, but she won’t wake up her girlfriend for that. She can, at bare minimum, pull her hair up into a high ponytail for running purposes.

They live in a small town only a short walk (and even shorter bike ride) from the beach, full of little two-story brightly-colored beach cottages. Logan steps off her front porch, pulls out her phone, and quickly shoots a text.

[to: ginny <3]

I am headed to the beach for my weekly run. I will likely return before you wake up, but in case I do not: I will be back before 9 AM.

[to: ginny <3]

I love you <3

Logan kicks up the kickstand on her bike, runs her fingers over the glossy dark-blue paint flecked with white and silver and gold to mimic stars, and swings one leg over the bike seat. She carefully pedals out into the narrow road and heads for the beach. The cool early-morning air whips past her face, and she chances a glance up at the dark-blue-turning-light-blue-grey sky and smiles.

She’s always been an early-morning morning person, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan’s sneakers dig into the hard-packed wet sand along the water’s edge as she runs. Seagulls scatter in front of her, and the podcast Virginia recommended hums in her ear. The sun creeps up, up, up onto the horizon, coloring the blue-grey into streaks of brilliant pink and orange and gold, light reflecting off the water in resplendent diamond sparkles.

Logan runs half a mile down the beach, turns around, runs back to where she started and then runs half a mile in the other direction before turning around and running back to her starting point. By the time she’s bent over, hands on her knees, huffing out breath while her legs burn pleasantly, the sun has emerged fully from the ocean, and Logan is beginning to wish she had worn a visor.

She takes a moment to appreciate the sensory experiences of being on a nearly-abandoned beach: the scent of salt water, the sound of waves crashing against sand, the errant cries of gulls squabbling over fish. Their little beach is not nearly pristine enough for a tourist attraction, and too far north along the Atlantic coast to be warm year-round. Still, Logan loves it, and cannot imagine living anywhere else.

She hunts along the water’s edge as she walks, briefly, a cool-down before the bike ride home. She finds a few things worth photographing, a few crabs to shoo back into the ocean, and a few things worth gathering: an intact clam shell whose smooth curve runs unbroken from the heel of her palm to the tip of her index finger when she lays it flat in her hand, a light gray rock worn smooth by the waves that turns dark-gray-almost-black when wet, a small spiral shell that she thinks may have broken off of the top of a snail shell. Logan wraps all three things carefully in a small handkerchief from the little bag she keeps in her bike basket, pulling out her phone to note the time (8:37 AM) and the message notification flashing at her.

[from: ginny<3]

dunno why you insist on being a morning person. stop by the dunkin on your way back and get us breakfast?

[to: ginny<3]

You had Dunkin for breakfast three times this week. You should consume something healthy.

[from: ginny <3]

>:( >:( >:( >:(

[from: ginny <3]

counterpoint: you bringing me dunkin is better than me not eating breakfast at all. which is the alternative because i do not want to get up and prepare anything

[to: ginny <3]

Your womanly wiles will not work on me in regards to Dunkin breakfast.

[from: ginny <3]

bitch (affectionate)

[to: ginny <3]

Would you like me to make you breakfast on my return, beloved?

[from: ginny <3]

. . .

[from: ginny <3]

will you make me an omelette? with all the cheesy goo an shit?

[to: ginny <3]

I will make you an omelette with some degree of “cheese goo.”

Logan slides her phone into her pocket, huffing out a laugh at her girlfriend’s behavior, and hops onto her bike again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Your omelettes are always so much better than mine,” Virginia says, moaning as she sinks her teeth into an enormous bite of egg and cheese. Logan, calmly dicing bell peppers to mix into her own omelette, smiles.

“All food tastes better when it is prepared by someone who is not you.”

“You’ve clearly never had anything the twins have cooked.” Virginia takes another bite, pops a multivitamin into her mouth, and chases it down with a gulp of milk. “Besides, it tastes better because you made it.”

“I am not the most accomplished chef in the world, certainly, but I am glad you enjoy my cooking.”

Virginia laughs softly. “Lo, I like your food because it’s prepared by someone who loves me. I can taste the love in everything you make for me.”

Logan turns back to her peppers to hide her blush. “Love is not a measurable ingredient when cooking.” Virginia laughs again, louder this time; when Logan sets the knife down, she hears Virginia’s chair scrape out behind her as she stands, feels her arms wrap around her waist, feels the cool skin of her face press into her neck.

“Love you.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Stressful day at work?” Logan asks, hearing the door slam.

Virginia kicks off her flats, sending them flying into the wall with a clatter. Logan sets down her crochet project and moves toward the entrance of their house, where Virginia is shrugging off her rainjacket to reveal a mint-green Peter Pan-collared blouse and dark gray dress pants. “The stressiest.”

Logan takes the jacket and shakes it out on the tiled entranceway before hanging it on the hook. “I am sorry, beloved.”

“Lots of assessments, lots of parents who don’t understand why I’m assessing their kid, lots of parents insisting that there’s nothing wrong with their kid, or that there’s no way their kid could possibly have the deficits that I’m seeing. Like, I wouldn’t make this shit up, you know? Literally, let me help your child. You came to me, remember? I’m not in the habit of imposing myself onto people.”

“That sounds very stressful,” Logan says. She tries to picture a life where she spends all her time interacting with people she doesn’t know on a regular basis instead of her little corner of the university biochemistry lab where she only has to interact with three or four known people and her immediate supervisor, mostly by email. It sends icy fingers skittering down her spine.

“It is, I hate it. I mean, Kitty’s my supervisor until I get my C’s, so if I have problems I can consult with her, but like . . . why are people the way that they are.”

Logan stretches up and presses a gentle kiss to Virginia’s cheek. “I love you, Ginny.”

Virginia exhales and folds herself around Logan, draping her body over her girlfriend and going limp and boneless. “I don’t wanna be a real person for the rest of the night.”

“That can be arranged.”

“But it’s my night to make dinner.”

“I do not mind switching and having you make dinner tomorrow,” Logan says. “This is an acceptable deviation from the routine.” Virginia pushes her face into Logan’s neck, and Logan nuzzles the side of her head, and she sighs like the entire world has lifted off her chest.

*~*~*~*~*

(This is how it starts:

Logan, taking a class on British literature in her sophomore year because she needs to meet her core requirements. Logan, meeting Rosie, disagreeing with her on almost every single point she raises in class, hating when they’re paired up for their midterm project but earning the best grade in the class overall. Logan, seeing a text from Rosie about how her housemate needs people to participate in a research study for extra credit. Logan, making the long trek down to the health sciences building and seeing Virginia for the first time, thinking that she’s pretty and not knowing that she’ll be thinking that for the rest of her life.)

*~*~*~*~*

“Hello, gorgeous,” Virginia hums.

“Are you talking to me or to the mint plant?” Logan says, aggressively stabbing her pointer finger against the Delete key. It clacks loudly, and she mutters an insult under her breath. “I am going to set myself on fire. I swear to god, I am.”

“Obviously the mint plant,” Virginia says, turning and dropping a kiss on Logan’s head. “You okay, honey?” Logan grumbles more and shoves the laptop away from her with a disgruntled noise. Virginia moves the laptop away and leans over to kiss her forehead.

“I am trying to politely word an email whose essence boils down to, ‘If you do not send me my fucking samples in a timely manner, I am going to be forced to commit an Atrocity the likes of which this earth has never seen’,” Logan says.

Virginia laughs so hard that she sits down on the tiled kitchen floor, wiping tears from her eyes. “You are so funny,” she wheezes. Logan feels her irritation fade a little under the brightness of her girlfriend’s joy. “Let me see the email, I’m good at professional bullshitting.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Braid my hair!” Rosie says, throwing herself down onto the couch. Logan lifts her laptop up just in time to keep Rosie’s head from slamming into the keyboard.

“Ginny is your best bet for braids, Rosie. I have limited experience.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, It just has to be off my neck.”

Logan saves her document and sets her laptop on the coffee table, poking at Rosie’s ribs until she slides onto the floor and settles cross-legged between Logan’s thighs. “A comb and some hair-ties would be appreciated.”

“REMUS!” Rosie shouts.

“WHAT?”

“BRING ME A BRUSH AND SOME HAIR BANDS!”

“GET YOUR OWN!”

“I’m going to kill that man,” Rosie mutters, rolling to her feet. There are suspicious muffled thumping noises from the other room for a few minutes before Rosie emerges, victorious, hair somehow even messier than it was in the first place.

“You are the single loudest person I have ever met,” Logan sighs, taking the comb and the hair ties and beginning to drag it through Rosie’s curls. Rosie winces, just a little, at the pull of the comb, and Logan tries to be more gentle.

“Thank you!”

“I did not say that was a compliment.

“Hey!”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan tugs her sweatshirt sleeves down from where she’d rolled them up previously, shivering a little. Part of her wishes that she had worn leggings instead of capris as she drags the folding chair a little closer to the bonfire, toes dragging through the still-sun-warmed sand. The speaker set up on the food table blasts some sort of current pop music, and Rosie and Poppy dance around each other, chanting the lyrics at each other. They are both very loud and very off-key and, Logan suspects, fairly drunk as well. Remus is in the ocean (definitely buzzed, potentially naked) and Jan is standing at the edge of the ocean, watching to make sure he stays alive.

“Hey,” someone says, low and rumbling in her ear. Logan does not flinch (just barely) and turns to see Virginia, holding a plastic cup with a poorly-drawn sketch of the state of Virginia on it. Her hair is starting to come loose from its messy bun, and her sweater sleeves keep sliding down over her wrists and nearly dunking into her drink, and her breath smells sweet and alcoholic. When she lifts her hand to Logan’s cheek, her fingers are cool, and Logan shivers.

“How’s my girl?” Virginia asks.

“Cold,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia laughs, tipping her head back and exposing the long strip of her neck. Logan wants to lick it.

“You’re adorable,” Virginia says, leaning in and pressing her mouth against Logan’s ear. Her breath is warm and slightly damp. “So pretty, my Logan, and so smart. I bet you know exactly what chemical compounds are making the flames turn that color, hmmm?”

Logan can feel her face burning hotter than the bonfire, but Virginia just sits languidly in her lap, feet propped up on the armrest. Her toes are painted pale purple, and the glitter sparkles in the firelight.

“How many drinks have you had?” Logan asks.

“Enough to feel all tingly,” Virginia says, swirling whatever’s in her cup. “How many have you had?”

“None,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia leans her head against Logan’s shoulder, and her wispy frizz tickled Logan’s nose. She sneezes, and Virginia giggles in the high-pitched, superficial way she only giggles when she gets really, really drunk.

“You sound so cute when you sneeze.”

“I do not.”

“Of course you do,” and now Virginia is looking at her, eyes glowing warm in the firelight. “You sound cute when you do anything. You’re cute when you exist. You’re cute no matter what. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Logan hates the taste of alcohol, but she leans in and kisses Virginia anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

“Lo.”

“Hmmm?”

“Pick a color.”

“What?”

“I’m painting my toes again. Pick a color for me.”

Logan flops over onto her stomach, staring at the neat row of creme polishes sitting on their ottoman. Virginia’s bare feet are propped up in front of them, spread apart awkwardly with neon lemon gel toe spreaders, and she studies the nail polish like she’s trying to determine which vial isn’t poisoned.

“I like that one,” she says finally, pointing to a pale pink polish the color of the flowers Virginia brought her on their first date. Virginia hums, picking the bottle up and tilting it critically in the light.

“Not the one I would have picked, but I said you could pick, so I guess we’re doing it.”

Virginia tosses some bottles of toppers (or “tacos” as she calls them, slang from one of the YouTubers she likes) onto the bed while she paints her toes, and Logan sifts through them to settle on a blue-yellow iridescent one.

“I do not know how you can get behind wearing something called a Unicorn Skin,” Logan says. Virginia just shrugs and plucks the bottle from her hand. Their fingers overlap - Logan’s warm from where they’ve been tucked under her body, Virginia’s cool from where they’ve been gripping the glass bottle. Impulsively, Logan lifts Virginia’s fingers and kisses the tips.

“You’re going to smear the polish,” Virginia mutters, even though she painted her fingers earlier today and they’ve been dry for a while. She doesn’t bother to yank her fingers away, either, so Logan kisses them again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Logan!”

Logan is fully aware that the only thing keeping Poppy from crashing into her like a floral-sundress-covered cannonball is the casserole dish in her hands. She counts her blessings and steps aside to let Poppy in.

“Where’s Jan?”

“Getting something from the car! It’s my turn to drive us home, so she brought something to drink.”

Jan primly kicks the passenger side door shut with her heeled ankle boots, a bottle of wine grasped by the neck in each hand.

“I hope you do not intend to drink both of those in their entirety tonight,” Logan says. Jan rolls her eyes and offers one of the bottles to her.

“This one is a gift for you and Ginia. The other one is for me.”

“None for Poppy?”

“Poppy is the designated driver, so she will not be drinking. And I know she already told you that.” Logan rolls her eyes, and Jan flips her off. “Are you going to invite me in or not?”

“What are you, a vampire?” Virginia shouts from the kitchen.

“Only one of us dresses like the undead, darling, and it isn’t me,” Jan calls back, stepping into the house. “Are the twins here yet?”

“They cannot attend. Remus has orchestra practice and Rosie is teaching a dance class. You already knew both of these facts, because you are in the group text.”

“I am not.”

“You responded to a message in the group thread fifteen minutes ago.”

“That was the NSA agent assigned to monitor me.”

“You are a liar.”

“What else is new?”

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: hey every1! DONUT 4get to make ur bakesale goodies and drop them off at r house by 7 am on fri!

lo tide: Please use normal words. I am begging you.

snesbian (snake lesbian): then beg.

lo tide: I do not recall asking for your opinion.

snesbian (snake lesbian): and yet i give it to you anyway. am i not generous

virgin: if you don’t stop making fun of my gf i swear to god

virgin: also remus if you don’t stop changing my name i’m gonna end you

virgin has changed their name to gin(ny) and tonic!

gin(ny) and tonic: much better anyway

violets are blue rosie is me: i believe you meant anygay

gin(ny) and tonic: i said what i fucking said

ace attorney irl: you changed your name :(

gin(ny) and tonic: every day the Lord regrets giving all of us mod powers in this chat

snesbian (snake lesbian): i have no such regrets

lo tide: Can we circle back to the bake sale, please?

soda poppy: Whatchu wanna kno???

lo tide: I assume it is school related?

soda poppy: yep!

soda poppy: fundraising 4 this year’s art club field trip! since im the faculty advisor im in charge of approving and setting up 4 the fundraisers

lo tide: I see. And why, exactly, is it our responsibility to make things for this fundraiser? Should it not be the students’ responsibility?

soda poppy: they r makin stuff 4 it but also i gotta make sure some of the stuff will b edible yknow

lo tide: I see.

gin(ny) and tonic: listen i know that jan is like. a professional pastry chef an shit. but i’m not making anything fancy like a cheesecake or smthn

gin(ny) and tonic: i’m making like. fuckin brownies

snesbian (snake lesbian): smh don’t you care about the Children at all?

gin(ny) and tonic: no. they’re not my kids

ace attorney irl: i will make cookies

soda poppy: u cannot make them inappropriate shapes

ace attorney irl: :(

violets are blue rosie is me: do not worry, i will make sure they are an appropriate shape

violets are blue rosie is me: i’ll make cupcakes!

lo tide: I believe I have a recipe for lemon squares that I can make. Will lemon squares be sufficient?

soda poppy: yeah! just keep ur stuff free of common allergens like tree nuts

gin(ny) and tonic: so my plan to just yeet you a bag of reese’s peanut butter cups and call it a contribution is out then

*~*~*~*~*

Virginia throws a box of brownie mix into the cart and dusts her hands off. “There. Done.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look, we have the rest of the ingredients at home. We have tap water, we have oil, we have eggs, we don’t need anything else. What do we need for your lemon thingies?”

“Lemons, presumably.”

“You’re a comedian,” Logan deadpans. Virginia flips her off, and then leans in to kiss her cheek. “I do need lemons, though. Lemons, more eggs . . . I have a list in my phone.”

“What phone?” Virginia says, dangling Logan’s galaxy-patterned case above her head. “I think you’re too short for this, Lo.”

“Give me my phone,” Logan says, rolling her eyes. Virginia wiggles it above her head, laughing.

“Maybe you should give me something in return.”

“Like what?”

Virginia grins. “Like a kiss, perhaps?”

Logan rolls her eyes again, but she leans in and kisses Virginia gently, swiping her phone back when Virginia lowers her hand to cup her face. “Thank you for paying the toll, sweetheart.”

“You are ridiculous,” Logan says. It doesn’t stop her from gently kissing Virginia’s cheek before pushing the cart down the aisle again.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

lo tide: What time did you want us to drop off the baked goods, Poppy?

soda poppy: if ur gonna b in the area, u can just drop them off at my house!

ace attorney irl: i made some of the shapes inappropriate but those ones r 4 u and jan

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the bake sale?

ace attorney irl: . . .

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the children, remus.

ace attorney irl: nothin’ too crazy! jan had some normal summer shapes - suns, flip flops, etc. etc. used those

soda poppy: :D thx remus!

ace attorney irl: made some fishies too! but the octopi are just for u an jan.

ace attorney irl: i . . . may have painted dicks on them

soda poppy: well at least u warned me right

*~*~*~*~*

“Did you get the right kind of popcorn?” Logan asks.

“If by ‘the right kind’ you mean ‘your favorite kind,’ then yes, I did,” Virginia says, coming into the living room with a large yellow bowl full of fluffy popcorn. “What are we watching tonight? It’s your turn to pick, isn’t it?”

“Gay fish,” Logan says.

Virginia sets the popcorn on the coffee table and blinks at her. “That is . . . quite the description of Finding Nemo, sweetheart.”

“Not Finding Nemo, Ginny. Luca. It’s new, and it’s not explicitly gay, but there is a very obvious queer reading. I thought we could watch it together.”

“Anything with you sounds wonderful.”

“Sap,” Logan mutters. She leans in to kiss Virginia’s cheek, but Virginia turns at the last moment and presses their lips together.

“Are you sure you want to watch a movie?” she says. “We could just make out instead, if you want.” She pushes gently on Logan’s stomach, guiding her to lay on her back on the couch. Virginia lays on top of her, gently sliding a hand to rest warm and heavy on her stomach. She leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Logan’s neck, and then her jaw, and then rubbing their noses together.

“Tonight is movie night,” Logan says. Virginia presses their mouths together, and Logan hums, gently pressing up into the kiss. “We should be watching a movie.”

“Are you sure?” Virginia says. “I think we should pursue this avenue a little further.”

Logan squirms a little. “I - I would not - um - no, thank you.”

Virginia’s eyes, which were hazing over with something, clear as she blinks. “Okay, sweetheart.” She leans back, sits up, pulls Logan into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just - I am not in the mood for that tonight. If that is okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Virginia says. She holds out a hand, and Logan takes it. Virginia kisses the back of it before settling herself on the couch. “I am so proud of you for expressing a boundary and telling me you were uncomfortable. I know that expressing boundaries is something that we’re both working on, and you did a wonderful job. Tell me what you want, Lo. Please?”

“I would like a kiss,” Logan says. “Just one. And then I would like to cuddle, and - and I would like us to watch Luca together. Is that acceptable?”

Virgil nods. “Of course, love. Come here, hmmm?” Logan settles next to her, and Virginia gently cups her cheek and presses their mouths together. “I love you, Logan. So much. Of course we can watch Luca now.”

Virginia lays an arm along the top of the couch, allowing Logan to cuddle up against her and rest her head on her chest. “I love you,” Logan says softly.

“I love you too, sweetpea.”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan rolls over, yawning, and feels a small weight displace itself from her thighs. She blinks awake slowly, lifting her head and pushing her curtain of curls aside to reveal a black cat mewing at her grumpily before settling into a sushi roll beside her.

“Did I wake you? I am sorry, Galileo . . .”

Galileo settles against her, purring softly, while the ash-grey cat at the foot of the bed pads slowly up to curl on Virginia’s back. “That’s your favorite spot, isn’t it, Andromeda?” The cat emits a soft “mrrrp” before settling back down to sleep. Logan yawns, smiles, and gently strokes her hears. “What should we do, girls? Shall we stay awake and be productive members of society?”

Neither cat responds, and Logan looks at Virginia. She’s haloed in the morning light, eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open, drool leaking into a puddle on the pillow. She snores a little - one, two, three snorts before settling back into a deep sleep.

“No,” Logan decides, “we shall not.” She lays back down, gently nudging Galileo a few inches over so that she can snuggle up to Virginia. Galileo stretches out, pressing a paw directly into Logan’s cheek. Logan shoves her, and she resettles onto Logan’s feet with an indignant noise.

“You can sleep by my face when you do not kick my face,” Logan mutters, curling into her love.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: r u all comin 2 the bake sale 2morrow?!

lo tide: I was under the impression that we were only providing the baked goods. Is it not for the students at the school?

soda poppy: we got waaaayyyy more stuff than we thought so we r havin a 2nd bakesale 2morrow 4 parents an stuff!

soda poppy: we r gonna need sum help with setup though . . .

lo tide: Poppy, please do not even -

soda poppy: 🥺🥺🥺 p l e a s e

lo tide: Poppy.

snesbian (snake lesbian): logan

lo tide: If I agree to stop and pick up coffee for everyone, will that motivate you all to turn out?

violets are blue rosie is me: i’m always a slut for free coffee

lo tide: I’m sorry, where did I say that this would be free?

violets are blue rosie is me: D:<

ace attorney irl: eh i’m down for it. where you swingin’ by?

soda poppy: there’s a panera p close 2 where the bake sale is!!! it’s gonna b at the morning girl’s basketball game

lo tide: Does anyone have any issues with Panera coffee?

violets are blue rosie is me: nah. large iced coffee, add three ounces of half and half, two pumps of sugar syrup, two pumps of vanilla, and caramel drizzle.

ace attorney irl: complicated bitch much?

violets are blue rosie is me: why must the cain instinct betray me like this

ace attorney irl: the cain instinct started when we stole each other’s genders in the womb

violets are blue rosie is me: this is true this is true but you’re still a bitch

ace attorney irl: large hazelnut coffee, two sugars, please

snesbian (snake lesbian): large dark roast, black

soda poppy: medium decaf coffee, two ounces of almond milk, and two pumps of sugar syrup!

gin(ny) and tonic: large caramel latte

lo tide: You . . . are going to ride in the car with me to pick up the coffee, we can order our own coffees. I do not need your order, love.

lo tide: But I appreciate the information <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

“We come bearing gifts,” Virginia announces loudly. “And by gifts, I mean we bought a baker’s dozen of cinnamon crunch bagels for everybody.”

“Well, there are twelve cinnamon crunch bagels and one plain bagel, bagged separately, for me,” Logan corrects, expertly balancing two coffee trays with a bagel container. “Also, we made more brownies.”

Poppy looks up from where she’s instructing two high-schoolers on how to hang a sign properly and grins, waving brightly. Jan is leaning on the table, hand on her head, sipping at a water bottle.

“Vodka or whiskey?” Logan asks dryly, handing over Jan’s black coffee. Jan blinks at her, flips her off, and drains a long swig from her cup.

“Water. Partied a little too hard with Remy last night, and now I’m hungover as shit.”

“We suspected as much, which is why we brought you an extra coffee.”

“Lifesaver,” Jan says, knocking back another long drag of coffee before taking a sip of her water bottle. (Logan suspects the bottle is actually Poppy’s, due to the sun-shiney stickers plastered all over it.) “You and Poppy both. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll gut you like a fish."

“No, you won’t,” Logan says, turning to hand Rosie and Remus their respective drinks. “You never do.”

Jan flips her off, but Virginia comes up behind her and leans her forehead against her shoulder. Logan turns, kissing her forehead, and smiles.

Life is good today, she thinks. Life is good.

(screen names!

virgin -> gin(ny) and tonic; ginny <3 = virginia (virgil)

lo tide = logan

snesbian (snake lesbian) = jan (janus)

soda poppy = poppy (patton)

ace attorney irl = remus

violets are blue rosie is me = rosie (roman) (thanks to @rosesisupposes for letting me borrow your screen name for this!)

[blackberryblindside]

The People We Become

So this is part of @lesbiansassemble 's 10k follower writing challenge! This is the first chapter of six, three of which are already on ao3. This does mention death, but in a hypothetical way, there is no actual character death in the story. I hope you enjoy!

1.

The first time May asked Peggy to marry her, it was 4.15 a.m. The then clear October night sky was devoid of any stars for May to wish on, and she, not for the first time, cursed the bright lights that spilled from Manhattan into her little Forest Hills apartment.

She searched the skyline for a flash of her nephew, a boy on a mission to save the people of Queens in all the little ways. Peter was supposed to be home more than four hours ago, and when she didn’t hear the floorboards creaking as she came from her afternoon shift at the hospital, she had started to worry. She was off the clock at midnight on Fridays and got home by 12.45 from the medical centre, the one in Kew Gardens only a few subways stops away from her bed and her nephew.

Peter usually waited for her to come home while in May's room, on his laptop while sitting on her bed or using the first aid kit tucked into her nightstand. He always stayed up until she was home, and since he had turned thirteen a snack Peter prepared was always sitting on the kitchen counter for her as she laid her bag down and said hello to her nephew, who would have already come bounding around the corner to greet her.

There used to be something Ben made, too, but his place on the counter had been empty for two and a half years now. May had long decided the spot would stay empty.

But tonight there had been no food, no greeting, no nephew almost-asleep in the centre of her bed, curled up in a ball like he was trying to protect himself. There was just silence, an empty apartment that sounded exactly like the one from her nightmares, the ones where Peter didn’t come home and the news was filled with a spider who didn’t get back up.

So she called him once, twice, one-hundred-sixty-six times until the clock struck two-ten and she sat her bag on the counter, pacing as she had since the creeping feeling that something was wrong had hit, worrying at her bottom lip like she had since she confirmed it.

Her fist voicemail was coherent. “Peter, please, call me. I need to know you’re okay. I love you, I hope to god you’re not hurt. Please, please, please be okay. I need you to be okay.”

She hesitated. “Scratch that, I need you to be alive.” Her voice broke just as the recording ended, a panicky sound that caught in her throat sharply.

The thirty after that devolved, the last being a plead to Peter caught in her sobs.

Soon his voicemail box filled and she was left calling without being able to say a word.

After calling Tony Stark and his assistant in turns until two-forty and getting no response, she sat down.

She finally gave up calling, the phone in her hand near dying.

She checked the news and heard nothing but a story about an attack in Oslo and a local string of robberies already thwarted by Spider-man.

She couldn't check hospitals, couldn't call the police and ask if they knew where Peter was without mentioning that he was last seen wearing a super suit with a glaringly obvious spider on the chest.

So she said nothing, just plugged her phone in and waited for it to ring, staring at the dark sky and hoping for a shooting star in red and blue.

At 3:36 someone rang the downstairs doorbell, the buzz pulling May out a dizzying vision of Peter on the ground with blood pooling around him, a bullet wound just where Ben’s had been. She immediately rang the person in, not even stopping to think it could be someone other than Peter.

She knew that if she did, it would become all the more apparent that it couldn't be. Peter had keys, and if his bag had been stolen he wouldn't be asking to be buzzed in as Spider-Man. That's what he used the fire escape for.

May knew that if Peter wasn't picking up, her late-night visitor had to do with him. She wasn't so naïve as to assume the visit was a friendly one, and yet she hoped beyond hope, waiting for the sound of any familiar footsteps.

When she heard a familiar clicking noise coming from an unfamiliar set of footsteps coming down the silent hallway and a knock that was too abrupt to be Peter’s rather silly one, she grabbed a kitchen knife from the utensil drawer and opened the door quickly, the knife by the person's throat before the hinges had fully swung open.

It was a woman with dark hair and dark red lipstick, startled slightly by the blade but with a glint in her eye that said she had seen worse that a skinny lady with a steak knife. She spoke. “I'll get right to the point. Peter is alive and recovering now. He will be fine. I assumed you wanted to hear that before any explanations I could ever give.”

Relief flooded through May like a Rockaway beach wave at the woman’s matter-of-fact declaration and she lowered the knife to her side, nearly dropping it as she relaxed tension that had been building for hours. “Thank you.” She stepped aside, gesturing into the quiet apartment. The dark-haired woman walked inside, the click of her heels against the floor now reassuring instead of ominous.

May lead them into the kitchen, pulling out two cups. “Water, juice, soda, or something stronger?”

The dark-haired woman smiled, the lipstick parting way for bright white, if slightly crooked teeth, and a pretty smile. “Whiskey, if you've got it.” Her British accent was soothing, but there was something odd about it. She was obviously from southern England, but May couldn't discern further, and she was usually good at that sort of thing.

May put the plastic New York Mets cup half-full of whiskey in front of the woman and kept the Hannukah mug for herself. “Thank you again. I got home and he wasn't here. I tried calling but no one answered and I was in a frenzy.” She took a long sip from her mug, letting the burn of the whiskey in her throat soothe her frayed nerves.

“When did you get home?” The woman asked, mimicking May with a slow sip of her drink.

“12.40 or so? It's all been kind of a blur. I noticed he wasn't here and immediately went into protective aunt mode.” As the almost-shock wore off May was starting to realise how tired and hungry she was, hunger vying for her attention as her eyelids grew ever-so-slightly heavy. She noticed the woman furrowed her brow slightly at her declaration of 12.40, like she had to quickly convert it in her head. Military time, May guessed.

“You haven't eaten, have you?” The woman frowned, tracing the rim of her cup and taking notice of the bag still on the counter and the dirty scrubs sticking out. The apartment was cozy but tidy, the little mess she had created seeming out of place in the well maintained kitchen.

May shook her head, leaning back in her seat for a moment, trying to muster the energy to get up and grab whatever was in the sparsely-filled fridge. “Peter always lays out a snack for me, so when it wasn't there I started to worry.”

The woman stood up and looked at May, obviously thinking the little indication of Peter and May’s dynamic sweet if the upward twitch of her painted lips was any indication. “I'll fix you something, if I'm not being presumptuous. Be warned though, army food is sort of ingrained in me by now, so it may just end up tasting slightly boiled.” She smiled now, and May grinned back, top tired to protest.

“That would be really nice of you…” May was going to end with the woman’s name but realised she had never asked, too busy with her own relief to notice. “I don't know your name. Sorry about that. I'm May Parker, if you didn't already know, though I presume you did.” May grinned almost cheekily, watching the woman as she rummaged through the fridge, black heels accompanied by a black knitted sweater and white pants. She was very put together, and the only colour came from her lipstick, her dark hair hiding all but her jaw from May’s view as she leaned against the back of her wooden chair.

The woman straightened with a loaf of bread, cheddar cheese, tomatoes and vegetarian bacon cradled in her right arm; all things May hadn’t realized were in her refrigerator. “I'm Peggy, Peggy Carter. I work with the Avengers, and when I realized that Peter was in surgery and no one could tell me if his guardians knew whether he was okay, I came straight away. This is the kind of thing you do in person; I've given people enough army condolence letters and watched enough families see each other again to know that even news that someone is fine can be a bit of a whirlpool of emotions.”

“Well thank you, Peggy. It's nice to meet you. This is the second time you've mentioned the army, can I ask where you were stationed?” May was curious as to how this woman could have fought in the more recent wars. She was young, twenty-something, maybe thirty, but her posture and mannerisms spoke of a long service.

Peggy froze slightly, curls bouncing as her hand hesitated over the pan, grilled cheese poised to be placed delicately. She considered something, looked at May, and seemed to decide. “A lot of places. Mostly London and Southern France, but I spent a lot of time on the German line after that.”

May hesitated, wracking her brain for war in the last fifteen years this woman could have participated in. She opened her mouth to ask, but Peggy cut her off, answering her question before she could come to the correct conclusion. “World War II. Long story.”

May gaped for a moment, and then considered this. Her nephew was part spider and he was friends with a nerdy scientist who could turn into a ten-foot green neanderthal and a god with a hammer that was apparently like an impossibly strong magnet to the center of the earth to everyone but him, as Peter had put it after first meeting Thor. This wasn’t all that strange, comparatively. “Well now it makes sense that you used to boil everything.”

Peggy let out a laugh, looking back at May in surprised delight. She wasn’t used to having that declaration replied to with such nonchalance. “Yes, this century is much better at making food edible, if not necessarily more nutritious.”

May chuckled, and drummed her fingers against the table once. “Didn't McDonald’s exist in the 40s? You may have to tell me that story one day, just to explain where we went wrong.” She smiled at Peggy, who raised an eyebrow at the suggestion they should talk another time after this, liking the boldness that took. This woman, May Parker, was already under Peggy’s skin, and apparently the sentiment was returned.

As Peggy set a plate with a sandwich and a half in front of both May and herself, she smiled, taking notice of the way May’s slender fingers brushed her own gently. She had hands made for caring. “I guess I will. It's a pretty long list. But for now, a good sandwich for a bad night.” She said.

May thanked her, biting into her grilled cheese with tomato and veggie bacon with gusto. She groaned as the flavor hit her tongue and closed her eyes, the food satiating her hunger as well as helping to ground her. It was delicious. As she swallowed, May looked at Peggy, who had been watching her reaction happily. “Please, will you marry me? Cook for me every day and keep me from putting a knife to another guest’s throat.”

Peggy let out a loud laugh, quieting herself when she realised it was already past four. She was usually more conscientious of things like that, but the woman across from her was intoxicating and the early-morning air was making her brave in all the ways she wasn't used to being. “I don't know, the knife thing was kind of charming.”

[theoriginalspike]

for the weird ask thingy how about 1-98? so yes all of them please!

I’m gonna put this under a read more so that it’s not insanely long but thank you for allowing me to overshare because that’s literally all i want in life

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

coffee mugs, if i see one that i like, i usually buy it or think about it for a really long time. 

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

cotton candy, i can’t stand the smell or taste of bubblegum

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

on most of my report cards i was a pleasure to have in class but has trouble actually turning in homework

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

either soda bottles or glass cups

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

i love the aesthetic of formal but i prefer boho/preppy 

7. earbuds or headphones?

earbuds, headphones squish my head

8. movies or tv shows?

movies 

9. favorite smell in the summer?

honeysuckle

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

being goalie for handball

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

peanut butter crunch clif bar

12. name of your favorite playlist?

summertime

13. lanyard or key ring?

keyring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

watermelon jolly ranchers

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

fahrenheit 451

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

cross legged or leaning to the side with both feet tucked up next to me (only in a chair/on the couch though)

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

either birkenstocks or my bean boots

18. ideal weather?

slightly cloudy, breezy, and between 60 and 75 with a dew point under 55

19. sleeping position?

any position but on my back

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

i like a notebook, my fingers try to type too fast for my brain so i make a lot of mistakes and i need lines otherwise it slants all over the page

21. obsession from childhood?

i used to collect guitar picks. i have too many

22. role model?

my friend kelsey. she never let anyone’s opinions of her shape who she was. she did what she wanted and was such a free spirit. 

23. strange habits?

left goes first. if it’s makeup, my left eyebrow, lashes, contour, blush, anything goes first. left shoe goes on first, left pant leg, left shirt/jacket sleeve. left first or it feels wrong. 

24. favorite crystal?

i love amethyst because it’s purple.

25. first song you remember hearing?

probably american pie by don mclean.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

swimming

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

honestly stargazing. getting all bundled up and lying in a bunch of blankets is great. there no humidity to make the stars hazy and on a really clear night it’s beautiful.

28. five songs to describe you?

perfect - anne marie, devil’s in the canyon - the strike, orpheus - sara bareilles, rainbow - kacey musgraves, vienna - billy joel

29. best way to bond with you?

talk to me about music, animals, what you find beautiful or peaceful.

30. places that you find sacred?

any mountain top, the chapel in the pines at camp, fields of wildflowers, any waterfall.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

my black dress with big red roses and my black and white stripe heels with roses. 

32. top five favorite vines?

oh shit the tampons one, the no yelling sock, the souls of the innocent, bagel boys, that was majestic

33. most used phrase in your phone?

i have wtf set to automatically replace with what the fuck and i probably use that daily

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

i always have the cropp metcalfe jingle stuck in my head

35. average time you fall asleep?

on a work night usually between 10:30 and 11:30 but weekends its closer to midnight

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

probably those creepy u mad? and sad face drawings.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

i prefer a suitcase but not a huge one

38. lemonade or tea?

it has to be sweet tea if it’s iced

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

lemon cake. lemon meringue pie is never the right sweet/tart ratio

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

my senior yaer they locked the boys and girls bathrooms in the science wing because the boys were setting off axe bombs and the girls were smoking cigarettes

41. last person you texted?

my friend corinne

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

yes

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

yes

44. favorite scent for soap?

citrus. it just smells cleaner

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

i’m a sucker for fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

i have a couple of dresses that are stretchy but too short to be acceptable (imo) for public wear

47. favorite type of cheese?

i love mozarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

i’d be a peach

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

it’s chaos, be kind

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

probably just weird shit from camp

51. current stresses?

mmmmmm job hunting, packing for camp, cleaning

52. favorite font?

i can’t remember the font name but it’s like old typewriter letters

53. what is the current state of your hands?

i need to paint my nails and cut them

54. what did you learn from your first job?

that people are really fucking dumb and don’t read the fine print on their coupons

55. favorite fairy tale?

the princess and the pea

56. favorite tradition?

we always do a big pancake dinner on mardi gras

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

dealing with my hair’s natural curl pattern, and i’m gonna have to get back to you on the other two

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

i can braid hair really well, i can cook without a recipe, i made the highest swim level as a camper in 6 weeks my last year as a camper, i’m really good at cat’s cradle

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“absolutely not”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

i don’t watch anime so i have no idea

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“war is war and hell is hell. and of the two, war is a lot worse”

62. seven characters you relate to?

radar o’reilly, arya stark, dumplin’, carol danvers, eleanor shellstrop, wayne and daryl from letterkenny.

63. five songs that would play in your club?

gas pedal - sage the gemini, gasolina - daddy yankee, despacito - luis fonsi, bitch better have my money - rihanna, and only nicki minaj’s verse from monster

64. favorite website from your childhood?

neopets or i think it was whitesheepblacksheep but there was a site that had a maze game that was set to the music Orpheus in the Underworld

65. any permanent scars?

my right foot from being born c-section, right shin from a staph infection, left wrist and left foot from ganglion cysts, and my chin from a golf club

66. favorite flower(s)?

all of them EXCEPT for the flowers from bradford pear trees. fuck those.

67. good luck charms?

not really

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

oh god there was a grape juice my friend brenda had me try and it was just so tart it tasted like it had gone past expiration.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

i can tie and untie a hair tie with my fingers

70. left or right handed?

right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

i hate herringbone and houndstooth

72. worst subject?

the only math i breezed through was geometry

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

i really like potato chips and grape jelly

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

like a 6 or 7. unless it’s mouth pain then like a 3 at most. 

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

probably 7 or 8? i can’t remember but i DO know that my mother kept all of mine and my siblings baby teeth

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

potato gratin is amazing

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

succulents

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

coffee from a gas station specifically sheetz

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

oh god my school photo. my license photo i look like i WILL kill the photographer

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

jewel tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

i use both interchangeably 

82. pc or console?

i play internet games which is as far as i got with gaming. although i do really want a game cube so i can play monkeyball

83. writing or drawing?

writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

podcasts

84. barbie or polly pocket?

i have 2 pollypockets still and i refuse to give them up

85. fairy tales or mythology?

mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes?

cookies

87. your greatest fear?

i really don’t like the dark lmao

88. your greatest wish?

mmmm i’m honestly not sure

89. who would you put before everyone else?

barack obama

90. luckiest mistake?

not checking the weekend of my brother getting married and lucking out that i bought concert tickets for the weekend before

91. boxes or bags?

bags

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

fairy lights

93. nicknames?

libby, libs, libster, “ms. teaguerson” is one i’ve gotten from a couple of kids i’ve subbed for, any version of elizabeth at this point.

94. favorite season?

fall 

95. favorite app on your phone?

i just downloaded a crosswords app and it’s fantastic

96. desktop background?

the sky being absolutely BLACK during an afternoon storm right before a big event at camp

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

i think 8

98. favorite historical era?

i really love the clothes of the 40′s