#hmm but I do miss getting asks about my fandom topics

[quibbs126]

Id say it's more nuance. Like they are two halves of the same whole. The themes show a messy tragedy in the making. The whole "they can make them worse" and general toxity makes for interesting potential. The craving to place the lil guys in angsty situations that break further and further until SOMETHING bleeds

Itbjust depends on the creativity of the person making the content lol

Just some old people with beef

I’m sorry to the anon who asked this originally, but I was going through my inbox for something, and I came across this

And I no longer have any context as to what this was about

My brain is like “…is this about Transformers?”, but this is too old to have been an ask about that, not to mention I don’t really get Transformers asks

Honestly my best guess as to what this could have been was Golden Cheese/Burning Spice or just generally Beast/Ancient related. Some of the other surrounding asks seem to date this around the Burning Spice update, so that would make sense, but I’m not sure why I’d ask about that because I’m pretty sure I’ve made my stance that I don’t really like those ships

Oh wait, it might have been about me wondering why mysticcacao and goldenspice weren’t that popular/generally disliked ships, but shadowvanilla/vanillamilkshake was. I’m remembering now I didn’t really understand that (tbh I still don’t but I don’t really care that much anymore)

[elvenbeard]

OC INTERVIEW - VINCENT EZAKI

(I was tagged by @cybersteal and @arcandoria for this a long while ago, and got real carried away with this idea xD also inspired by everyone else who took the "interview" bit a bit more literally, so yes! :D thank y'all for the great ideas and being an inspiring af fandom!)

Juanita Tseng: V, thank you so much for taking the time today, so happy to have you here! Let me ask, is that your full name?

V: Hah. Well, obviously not, but it’s served me well for many years now.

J: Any special story behind it?

J: What’s not a secret is that most of our viewers only know you as “mystery man” so far, at least that’s how the scream sheets often choose to refer to you. How do you feel about that?

V: Well, nothing I could say against either. I like my privacy and I’m a man, so they got that right at least.

J: Hahaha, that’s fair! Even more so I’m glad we’re getting the opportunity to get to know you a bit better today. As I told you in advance, there’s some burning questions our viewers have, and everyone’s been eagerly submitting them already as we speak. So, without further ado, let’s get to the first one. When is your birthday?

V: It’s in June, but I’d like to leave it at that.

J: Interesting! Gemini or Cancer?

V: Whichever is the one that comes first.

J: That’s fair! Alright, how tall are you?

J: Who is taller?

V: Me of course.

J: Of course! Okay, next question… Ah! Let’s stay on the topic of Kerry for a moment longer. From my last interview with him we know you two met through a mutual friend.

V: That’s right.

J: How did it go? Was it love at first sight, or more of a slow burn?

V: Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him when we first met. But it wasn’t love at first sight, no, more… curiosity. We crossed paths a few more times, also thanks to that friend, and got to know each other better like that. We just clicked. That’s all there is to it really.

J: Awwww, that's so sweet! Now, it’s no secret that Kerry has led a quite adventurous life and there is a bit of an age gap separating you. So, I gotta ask:

J: Only men?

V: Yup. And now the next question please, cause none of it matters.

J: Hahaha, sorry, I know I’m such a tease! But we gotta ask our viewer’s questions! Speaking of which, one of them is curious about your upbringing and cultural heritage!

V: Now that’s a 180° turn. Born and raised in and by Night City. Can’t say much about cultural heritage, as it’s a bit of a mix of many things.

V: Mh-hm.

J: Let me see… would you be up for some quick shotgun-style questions?

V: Ready when you are.

J: Favourite season?

V: Anything that doesn’t involve sandstorms.

J: Favourite flower?

V: Lotus.

J: Favourite Scent?

V: Clean bedsheets.

J: Average hours of sleep?

V: I aim to get at least 7.

J: Numer of Blankets you sleep with?

V: One or none.

J: Favourite Fictional Character?

V: Oh no, uuuhh… Hmm… No, I can’t just choose one.

J: Haha, that’s alright. Would you say you’re a bit of a nerd?

V: Oh yeah, unashamedly. Me getting started about my favorite fictional characters would be a whole interview on its own.

J: Anyway, that’s right on cue, we’re almost out of time for today! I think we could fit one… no, two more questions!

V: Alright, let’s hear ‘em.

J: What would be your dream trip?

V: Hmmm… Kerry asked me to come along for his tour next year. I imagine that could be fun.

J: Oh, definitely! By the way, dear fans, don’t miss out on buying your tickets!

V: Maybe.

J: It’s been really nice to have you here today, V!

V: Thanks again for the invite.

J: As you know, I like to end my show with a random fact, something fun I’ve heard about in the past week or something about myself! Would you like to share a random fact with the viewers today?

V: I try.

J: Haha, well, I'm glad you found your way to my little studio, too! As I said, would love to have you over again anytime!

########## a few minutes later ##########

##############################

Thank you again for the tags! This was so much fun and really turned into its own thing beyond an OC ask meme XD I did this meme before with some slightly different and/or more in-depth answers for anyone curious [here] cause like stated back then, how Vince replies to personal questions always strongly depends on who's asking. And he might be more or less truthful about the information given or keep it all very surface-level instead, too.

For this lil story here the idea was obviously that the whole interview is basically just a promo thing for Kerry's upcoming tour xD So of course Vince is gonna support his bf if it helps boost ticket sales XDD A year earlier he might not have done it even then, because he was veeery reluctant about having their relationship be known beyond telling their closest friends. But here at this point some time in mid-to-late 2078, he'd feel secure enough with his life, their ilfe really, that he wouldn't mind being seen in the public together like this and also "outing" himself like that in front of a larger audience, for lack of a better word. It's the character growth and support of each other and a love language and everything \o/

Also: not sure who to tag at this point cause I think most of you already did this, but if you're reading this and havent answered all of Juanita's questions for your OC yet, consider yourself tagged!

[miiilowo]

I forgot William could juggle omg. Mentally adding that to my silly facts about him.

Sorry for so many asks its like 1am and I'm just like so feral about your interpretation of William. You are are so correct about him all the time and hes such a silly little guy

How do you think William went about the murders? Did he try to be sorta detached from it or did he amp up the villian persona?

Do you imagine the 5 missing children all were killed in one day or over the course of a week? Canon seems to support both options a bit I think , but more leaning towards all at once I think, it's been a bit since I checked

How many murders did your William commit? That tends to vary alot depending on what theories and who you ask.

Oooh how'd he go about luring them? Was it just a simple "hey I have a surprise for you come follow me" or did he gain their trust longer than that or did the SL animatronics do all the work for him. Did he just target random kids or did he have a method for picking them. Speaking of, did he plan at all which animatronics they were going to possess?

How'd he avoid getting caught? Did he?

Hmm lots of murders questions let's go off topic. If he had to own a pet what animal would he prefer. Like he def LOVES rabbits. But hmm, they like, need more work and attention than a cat. And William doesn't seem like he'd be great at that

As a children's entertainer, did he often try to throw fun birthday parties for his kids? Oh hmm, why was Evan having his party at Fredbear's if he's so scared of animatronics? Bc he obviously does care about Evan. Ive personally always interpreted that as like, William being too busy + recovering from the springlocks to like, plan something proper but there's honestly so many ways you could think of the why, so I'd love to hear your interpretation!

HEGHENEGEHEEGEHEHE EHEHEEHE HEGEHE <- likes thinking about the murders a normal amount <- lie <- fraud <- misconstruance <- trickery

i .okay so i.ok. Ok. so. ok. So. Okay. S

i am personally fond of making him as unhinged as possible in that regard. if im going to be obsessed with a cartoonish murderer im going to want him to get fucking silly with it alright im not gonna make him do some boring shit like sedating his victims before killing them or something <- targeted toward the novels

there is a LOOOOOOOT of inconsistency in "canon" sources. (canon in quotations because anything aside from the books is dubiously canon. half of the time i feel like im in the warrior cats fandom again with how people cannot AGREE ON ANYTHING OR REMEMBER INFORMATION) it makes sense for it to be done tastefully considering this is kind of a sensitive topic, being. murder. and all. theres less details about it. however, i have issues and problems and need to know everything about him or else ill DIE. BADLY

while the idea of him doing them all at once has been the agreed upon thing for...pretty much the past eight and a half years, i find the idea of them being one at a time more interesting. going about it strategically and with some level of premeditation makes for good contrast with charlies murder, which was very clearly a crime of passion. by creating more stark contrast between these events, it makes charlies death feel more significant, generally more fucked up, and more ... Out of character, for william. It makes it feel like it really MEANT something, if everyone else's deaths were executed in a way that really shows the difference in motivation/intent :3

i personally think that charlie was the first death, and was motivated by williams envy & resentment regarding henry since shes his daughter. Very heat of the moment, fueled by hatred for her father; swift, i imagine. probably just had a pocket knife in his car or something. i think this event is what makes william realize he enjoys killing; as much as i'd like to paint him in the most pathetic light possible, i can't imagine hed kill children for the sake of feeling powerful. obliterating charlie out of obsessive gay jealousy obviously probably made him feel like he had power over henry, which im sure he adored, but i generally think hes in it for something else.

I refuse to believe anything but the idea that he loves the thrill of it. I make note of this because of how he reacts to being springlocked in the novels, where he was sort of drunk on the pain, and was having far too much fun with it. That, and because he's an entertainer, a performer, he probably enjoys excitement quite a lot. He loves big reveals, he loves drama, he loves reactions! I think that can be applied to the murders as well :3 I've said all this, while leaving out my best supporting piece of evidence, being that, in canon, for Cassidy's death, he kidnapped her and beat her to death. With a shovel. So. Seems a bit over the top. To Me. I dont know. Like if he wasnt. Having fun with it then. Yknow.

My favorite favorite favorite thing about afton is how he just sort of sloooooowly unraveled over time. And even when he DID snap, there was sort of a gradual worsening as time went on; I dont think he WANTED to like killing, but he did! And eventually, he gave in to that desire to get as violent as possible. He stopped caring, and he started to enjoy it, instead of pushing it away.

Its also important to note I do think there was only one missing childrens incident. While I wouldnt put it past william to do it twice just to shut down multiple freddys locations out of spite, there isnt really a lot of evidence to suggest that he killed at the fnaf 2 location; everything that goes on there can be explained by other means we already have.

So, Susie goes first!!!!!!! By this point, I firmly believe that Elizabeth has already died, charlie has obviously already died, and Henry has forbade William from ever setting foot on the premises ever again, but he gets away with it by wearing the spring bonnie suit. Killed her dog, apparently. Prick. Anyways, chica/susie states that she was the first to go and has apparently 'seen everything'. I don't take this as necessarily meaning that he did everything at once, especially since we know he Fucking Kidnapped Cassidy, but i do believe all of them were dragged into that saferoom at some point. oh, yeah, i also think its the saferoom because

not on the cameras

employees only really go in there if theyre literally bleeding out from the springlock suits, and the suits were decommissioned when william used them, meaning no employee would have ANY reason to be in the safe room. the phone guy states the spring bonnie animatronic was 'noticeably moved', then reminds people they arent supposed to be used, which supports me thinking william used the suits when employees werent supposed to use them + means nobody regularly fucks with the suits that ARE in there in the first place if this is a notable event he has to point out

animatronics dont know it exists. not in their programming. what are they gonna do, tell his fucking mom

i dont know why im explaining why the saferoom would be the best option i just see that nobody seems to agree on this for some reason

easier to do it in a room nobody can access rather than dragging them outside while theyre alive and/or concious

makes sense for him to know all this since he used to own the franchise

anyway, he probably didn't have too much trouble getting them back there since he had the suit on, but he also knows what hes doing in general. even if he werent wearing the suit i dont doubt he'd have been able to pull it off. hes a childrens entertainer. probably told them he had candy or cake for them, or some sort of surprise, maybe lied to them and said their mom or dad was in trouble and they needed to follow him, that kind of thing, standard fuckin. kidnapping behavior i guess. as for selecting the victims, picking kids who were kindof off by themselves doing their own thing makes the most sense. i imagine thats the only thought he put into it

while id LOVE for each death to be as bloody as possible, im not sure william could really afford that, given the setting he was in. hard to get too messy when youre in a public establishment; even if it was unlikely anyone would ever come into the saferoom, its probably better to make cleaning up the evidence a relatively easy process. i really. really really really like the idea of him using an axe for some reason? i know it was popularized because of the die in a fire music video, and would not be pertaining to how he killed anybody, but im attached to it got DAMNIT. im kind of contradicting myself because axe murdering is like an inherently messy process but yknow. maybe that was just one of em. it doesnt seem outlandish to me that there could be an axe in the saferoom- Like a fireaxe, yknow? i can imagine him having a knife knocked out of his hands, panicking and grabbing that. thats fun. i like that one

actual timeframe though. ummmmm. definitely not all in one day, but having them be throughout a week seems too long. having kids go missing in One Place over the course of a WEEK feels like it would be giving the place ample time to get shut down briefly. i give him 3 days ABSOLUTE maximum. maybe two.

initially i think he wanted the sister location animatronics to do the work for him, but after liz dies he doesnt wanna deal with them because. grief, and after killing charlie he processes that he doesnt mind getting his hands dirty i guess. so theres that. the sister location animatronics never really got the chance to function how he wanted them to because circus babys pizza world never opened

as for how he didnt get CAUGHT, there just...Wasnt enough evidence to convict him. DNA testing was introduced in 1986, one year after the murders occurred, and i suppose any crime scenes wouldve been wiped clean by the time forensics couldve been involved. It's definitely a situation where a lot of people just KNEW he did it, but it fell flat in a court of law- Henry, of course, would be one of those people who knew. That, and the fact fazbear ent is very scummy when it comes to those sort of things, prioritizing their brand over individual people. Even if Henry knew william did it, he'd probably want to crack down on people continuing to pursue his arrest; itd be bad for the company, after all! having their name attached to this forever? having one of their FOUNDERS attached to it forever? absolutely not. hed know there was no way theyd imprison william, and dragging the ordeal out would just cause damage to the label. henry may be better than william, but he is not a beacon of all that is right and good in the world. remember this forever

anyways um! im a firm believer in the idea he'd have a bunny. i can understand where ur coming from w the 'theyd be too much work to take care of' sentiment, but he had 3 kids, and a bunny is still less work than 3 kids. admittedly, he hated one of them and the other two died, but YKNOW its not like hes a complete stranger to taking care of things. michael lasted a long time. technically was only tangentially williams fault he died. cat would be good too

i do think he'd probably want to plan things for the kids as well, which is demonstrated by evans birthday party. i think at this point in the timeline he was just very, very caught up in his work, as shown by him watching them remotely through the camera system in his house + talking to evan via the fredbear plushie. so generally i agree w you on that, i dont have much to add :]

[revehae]

ugh i knew i should’ve come out anon long time ago but now it’s too late 💔 but trust im the biggest revehae fan in the world actually sorry

belle .. the world couldn’t take her :/ when i came back today and saw that she’s still not back i was in verge of tears like when seunghan got kicked officially i was thinking omg belle is going to crash out and she really did 🙁 now we without both of them but she’ll come back i believe i have faith

about the hate seriously this people be soooo up dark content writers here like CRAZY it does not matter the fandom at all basically everyone got jumped at some point like miss neopuppy is right here is hell ! i swear that this people that claim to hateee dark kinks talk about them more than who enjoy it? like i quite literally get off on this i cum thinking about this shit and yet u think about it more than me fr at this point embrace it idk .. especially the one who starts threatening like they are light yagami like “uhh hope u get raped” are u getting off on that idea or what? this makes me think of (controversial take) these people who claim they are so like morally right and they straight up fantasize about torturing criminals. like i don’t think u are just the same of someone who idk molested a child and i do hope he suffers but saying how U would torture him and make him suffer .. baby thats a little crazy maybe admit that u are a sadist 😶‍🌫️

hmm before i forget a ethan landry edit came up to me and i immediately thought of u ! i went back to check his smut tag again too hes so very yummy u are not wrong for being a white man enjoyer honestly

it’s literally never too late but if it makes u uncomfortable then don’t do it. but if u do, i can change the tags on the past few asks u sent from anon -> [your username] 💖💖💖💖 sorry i was gonna answer this last night but i went to sleep dhsdhdhsjddj

i rly need belle to come back… MY SHAYLAAAA 💔💔💔💔

i fr see why people leave, like i was this 🤏 close but imma thug it out and see how i feel after i drop these fics. ppl are crazy and hypocritical as hell!!!!! like i’ve been that person that didn’t read the tags thoroughly and got surprised by something later on a fic, but i’ve never taken it out on the author… like i legit got jumpscared bc they were doing alpha omega stuff (at the time this was a bit too freaky for me) and i was like Whoa. abo is kinda funny. it’s like we could do pet play but NO let’s take it another level and actually be horny wolves or some shit. wow i am going off topic

anyway, ETHAAAANN!!!! an ethan edit reminding u of me, oh my annonie u are in love with me just say that… damn we 13 days into january and idt i have a white man of the month. wait, i’m lying. i started watching criminal minds again and my wbotm is Aaron Hotchner. this just reminded me that i had a dream where he was evil FUUUCKKK i need evil hotch so bad…

[divinefireangel]

They Just Don't Know You

Soft Yandere! Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: A 2nd longer fic for our lovely cannibalistic psychopath. I hate that I'm attracted to him. Someone please be my therapist. Or psychiatrist. Honestly doesn't matter. My brain is fucked anyway.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 16+ and written for female reader, but all can read. (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Except that I've mentioned reader is short, cuz LDW is tall 🥰. There is a brief mention of sex, but no actual smut. Reader kinda highkey hates on her parents and younger sister. Read it to know. Age gap between reader and Moon-Jo. Slight obsessive thoughts. Manipulative words. I tried to put plot twist in the end, probably you won't notice it ����. Please please tell me if I need to add more warnings. Do not read if you start to feel uncomfortable. I apologize in advance 🥺

❗❗PLEASE READ WARNINGS ❗❗

Pre-Requisite / Summary: Just a fic based on the song They Just Don't Know You by Little Mix. After watching Strangers from hell I related this song to him for some reason. Reader and Moon-Jo are in an established relationship. And reader's loved ones don't approve.

2.3k ish words My longest fic till date 🥳

" You know that he's too old for you. You can settle for younger, much younger guys for your age sweetheart. If you can't find anyone eligible enough, we will find one for you. And you don't even know if he has intentions of marrying you. What if all he wants is just a fling or some time pass relationship. Hmm? What are you going to do then? "

Sipping her tea silently, Y/N sat next to her dad on the porch swing, listening to all the criticisms he had about Moon-Jo. All his words did was boil her blood. But what could she do when they don't walk in her shoes? They don't know how safe and content she feels when he kisses her like she's the only girl for him in the entire universe. And no point in explaining that to her father anyway. She's tried. And failed. Multiple times.

"Are you done with your tea?" She asks her dad, in desperate attempt to try and get away from him and his words because she knows, and even he knows that it's going to end up in a fight if they continue to speak on the same topic.

Humming yes, he hands her his tea cup which she takes to the kitchen so she can help her mom with dinner. Placing them in the sink upon entering the kitchen, Y/N drags her palms down her face in frustration.

" I could hear what he said you know. Your dad. He's not wrong. Seo Moon-Jo seems like he'll break your heart in three. And we're only looking out for you Y/N. You don't have to go through heartbreak when you can very well avoid it." Her mom finished slowly.

" Why. Why is it so difficult for you to accept the fact that I'm actually in a happy relationship for once in my life. So what if he's much older than I am? He's a dentist. A doctor. A very good profession and he's known and well respected in his neighbourhood too. " Y/N said loud enough for her dad also to hear.

Huffing in annoyance she left the kitchen to go upstairs to her room. Or rather the room she shares with her sister. Of course the door is wide open. The younger rascal is always here for the drama.

Ever since Y/N came out to her family about her relationship with Moon-Jo, her sister has become the favourite child, for obvious reasons. And now eavesdropping with the door wide open? That's a new low. But what else can Y/N expect from such a low life who is literally thriving off her own sister's pain and suffering.

When entering the room, Y/N realizes how big a mistake it was to visit her family. And she did not need such snark from a younger, less experienced child.

"Are you that blinded by " Love " that you don't even see how weird his hair is? A man who isn't an idol or actor doesn't need such long hair. He's clearly a fuckboy. Or man whore. Whichever is right. " She said with disgust.

'She's just jealous. She's just a jealous bitch. They all are.' Y/N thinks to herself.

" At least one of us gets laid regularly. And just so you know, it's absolutely heavenly when he makes me cum over and over on his fingers and his dick-" Y/N said as her tone slowly got lower and darker and her emotion angrier.

Screaming and covering her ears, the younger girl ran downstairs to her mother, no doubt to tattle on her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Y/N started packing her things, all of them, in a bag she took down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

It's really difficult to leave one's family, but it is clearly getting more and more tiresome to love them nowadays. If it's so wrong to date him, why does Y/N herself not see it? She's a logical and smart young lady. Does her family hate that man so much that they don't even want her to be happy? No matter who she's with. And is it so bad to date a man who's older? Richer? And cares more about her than all of her family members combined?

Wiping the fallen tear stains from her cheek, she just thinks to herself ' They just don't know him. They just don't know him like I do. '

Sending a text to her lover, saying that she misses him and that she's coming back home sooner than planned, Y/N carries her bag through the front door, her parents and sister ignoring her as she leaves and walks out that door one final time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once reaching their shared apartment, Y/N collapsed into her lover's arms the moment he opens the door, crying her eyes out. Seeing his lover in turmoil, shedding a tear or two of his own, Moon-Jo carries her to the living room couch to cradle her like a child who needs attention.

" They- They said -"

" Shh my darling. I know. " Moon-Jo said, shushing his girlfriend and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once she's calmed a little, her sobs turning to sniffs, she lifts her head to meet his gaze.

Seeing her sad, tear stained eyes always upset him. More than anything in the world. Running his long slender fingers across her cheeks and jaw, he removes her hair from her ponytail with his free hand and rests it on her thigh.

" Tell me. Please tell me that you won't break my heart like them. That you won't try to tear my world apart like them. " Y/N looked desperately at him, wanting so badly to know that he's not just using her.

Those words, that slipped out her mouth, shocked Moon-Jo, to say the least. What did he do wrong? What did her family fill her head with?

Tilting his head to a little, he looks into her red eyes, trying to read her mind for a moment, all the while she just looked at him with the same desperate expression.

"Please tell me that you will be there when I need you the most. " Y/N whispered so softly, she herself barely heard it. But the end of the sentence, she started crying all over again.

Taking her head to his neck, he stroked her hair and her sides, trying to calm her down.

" Darling. I promise with my everything, that I will never leave you, I will never ever let you go. That I will do anything, anything necessary to prove my love to you. "

"No, oh dear no. That's not, you don't have- have to do anything at all to make me believe you love me. I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question. " She sobbed out.

Shushing her softly again, he rocks their bodies back and forth, till she's calmed and fallen asleep there, in his arms. Knowing that his arms are her only safe place for her from now on, he takes her delicate figure to the bedroom.

Placing her on her side of the bed, he lays down on his. Staring at her stunning face, he feather touches her face with his fingertips, memorizing every curve, every little detail on her, like a sculptor admiring his work and giving it the finishing touches.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

" So, I did a little digging on your sugar daddy. "

" Why?! And he's not my sugar daddy. " Y/N said in disbelief. No. Not her dear best friend too.

" I know you said not to and I'm sorry. But I am worried about you. He made you leave your family Y/N. " They stated with worry and sympathy.

" No. He didn't make me leave them. I left them by choice. They don't see him like I do. And clearly, they hate that I'm happy with him. " Y/N finished as they sat down at the lunch table.

" Y/N..... "

" What? Even you don't want me to be happy? " She questioned her friend in disbelief. Laughing sarcastically Y/N shook her head.

" I've heard rumours! Okay? He was in the orphanage that had that severe fire explosion. And most of the culprits from that incident are MIA. What if he's one of the people who caused it?! " They said in a whisper, worried that the neighbouring people can hear their conversation.

" Do you really think that? All of that is just a rumour. And he's told me about it. He's told me everything. Unlike my parents who so desperately tried to tie me down to an arranged marriage. "

" He's not good for you. I know you deserve better. Okay he may make happy and all but what if he leaves? What if he just uses you and drops you like you were nothing? We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt Y/N. Physically and emotionally. " They finished.

" This, all what you said, is cheap talk. But it'll eventually wear down because when we get married and have kids and all that in the future, you're all going to look like fools. And I will proudly say ' I told you so '. "

" If that's the case then I am the happiest person for you. Hopefully I won't have to be the one to say ' I told you so'. "

" Wow. I, just- hah. Wow. Just wow. " She paused.

" You know, I really hoped you would be more supportive or at least tolerant enough to have patience and support me with my decision for my love. " Y/N said loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear audibly.

Of all the people she would have to drop, never even in her nightmares had she fathomed that her best friend would be one.

Getting up from the table, she picks up her bag and leaves without another word, and goes to the only place that has love for her and that accepts her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reaching home, Y/N notices the place empty. Maybe he's at the clinic?

Shrugging off her bag and jacket she sits on the couch for a moment, before her restlessness takes over and she begins pacing in the living room.

Why are people being like this? Do they hate her so much? They barely know him. Why are they treating and accusing him to be such a criminal! He's not. He takes care of Y/N so much. He loves her so much. He provides for her. He's affectionate with her, more than he's told he thought capable. He's become her ride or die. And she, his.

They don't know him like I do. They will never love me like he does.

They don't know about the love they have. The just see what they want to see. Bloody society dictating whom to love and whom to not. Is it so hard to see the love they have for each other? Can't they just let it be. They don't know the turmoil she's gone through recently; they don't know how well he's taken care of her, kept her happy and same enough to not let her intrusive thoughts get the best of her.

Her thoughts interrupted by the door clicking open. Smiling, Moon-Jo enters with a box, surely containing sweets from her favourite bakery. How can you not love someone so considerate, who does things for you without even having to ask.

Seeing the sad look upon his lover's face, Moon-Jo's smile fades into a frown.

" What's wrong my dear? "

Smiling sadly Y/N just shakes her head, conveying that she doesn't want to talk about it.

Placing the box of sweets on the coffee table, the two hug each other, feeling of comfort taking over them both. She can just stay here, forever, in his arms till the world ends.

" Babe. What's wrong? You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I'll take care of the problem. " Delicately Moon-Jo cradles Y/N's head in his palms, making her face up to him, their height difference evident.

Sighing, she moves to sit on the couch, motioning him to do the same. " It's just people. And what they say. My family was one thing, but my best friend, the person I chose as my family " Pausing Y/N breathers the tears back in, " They were doubtful of you today. How can I live knowing that no one will approve of us? " Y/N questioned looking at him.

" Does their opinion really matter that much? So much so that you are skeptical of my affection to you? " Coldly, he moved back from his seat on the couch.

" No! No. Gosh that is not what I mean. Not at all. I love you and I know that you love me. So much. So much so I would die for you. But there are other people whom I care about. Who's opinions matter to me. And I don't want to let them go. As happy as I am with you, I need them too. They give me joy in a different way, that is important. "

" Do I not make you happy? Are you not content with the love I give you? Is it not enough? " He asks carefully.

" That's not what I meant! You love me more than anyone I've known. "

"Then what's the problem? You don't need those people who don't love you. You have me. You will have me forever and ever. I will never leave you. And you will never leave me either. We'll be with each other till the end of the world darling. "

Nodding with a small smile you looked down at your feet.

Unhappy with your action, Moon-Jo pulls your face up by your chin to look at him with such force, it scared you a little, making your heart skip a beat in fear.

" Do you not love me, babe? " He asked tilting his head to a side, his expression mildly offended.

" I do! I love you. So much. " You finished with a soft tone, cupping his face with your hands.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Moon-Jo leaned down to capture your lips with his. Reacting immediately, you kissed him with as much energy and sincerity you could muster, as you head filled with thoughts of doubt.

Had your parents been right? Had for friend been right? Had they all been right all along and you too blind to see?

No. It can't be. He loves you. He's said that so many times. And you love him.

You love him.

You.

Love.

Him.

...

Do you love him, or have you been illusioned into loving him?

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Blame Me - Chapter 1

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 4.3K

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader, 

TW: canon typical violence, canon divergence, gore, mention of past major  character death, zombies, a lot of time skips

Genre: Horror ig? 

Series: Blame Me

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: (Y/N) isn’t in this chapter much but she will be soon! This is my first time writing for the walking dead, so I know Daryl is probably out of character. Constructive criticism is always appreciated :) Send me a DM or an ask if you want to be tagged! Enjoy!

When Daryl found out about what they'd done to Merle on that rooftop - left him for dead- he was livid. Merle was no angel, that was for damn sure, but that was still his brother, and they just left him there. And when they got there, and Merle was gone, with nothing left but a hand he'd had to hack off himself? It felt like his world was crashing around him. He couldn't do this. Not again. Then this new sheriff asshole had the nerve to tell him to calm down. Fuck that. He couldn't lose his brother, not him too. But Daryl couldn't seem to catch a break, and suddenly they'd lost half their camp, taken a failed trip to the CDC (that almost cost them their lives - again), and Sophia had gone missing. He was sick and fucking tired of losing people. Maybe that's why he was so hellbent on finding a little girl that wasn't even his. They'd set up a little camp on the edge of some old guy called Hershel's farm, but Daryl didn't want to get too close. He had this awful feeling creeping up his spine, something was gonna go wrong. Someone was gonna die. He couldn't take the blame again. So he stayed away. Set up his own tent, his own fire, Merle's bike parked up against a tree, animals on a line. Just like the old hunting trips he used to take with his brother. Sometimes she'd come, but it wasn't her thing. She'd been keeping him company so far. Even if she wasn't really here. Daryl was so focused on skinning a squirrel that he didn't even hear Carol creeping over. She still had remnants of tears tracked down her face, but they'd been long dried.

"Daryl?" Carol's meek voice broke through the silence, and Daryl looked up briefly a grunt of recognition leaving his throat. She sat down next to him on the log he was perched on "Thank you for everything you've done for Sophia. Her own daddy would have never done the same."

She'd thanked him twice already. He found her doll, not Sophia. As much as he wishes he had. Damn near died for it too, since the throbbing pain in his side liked to remind him

"Only found her doll," He mumbled, glancing over quickly. Carol nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Well, that's just one step closer isn't it?" She replied but she got no response except the famous Dixon stare. He wasn't much of a talker. He was just glad she understood that. They sat there for a few minutes, watching the fire, surrounded by the comfortable silence until Carol looked over to watch as Daryl skinned another squirrel, and a little glimmer on his hand caught her eye. "Hey, what's that?"

"What're you talkin' 'bout?" He huffed out, putting the squirrel to one side, and stabbing the knife into the log beside him, finally giving her the proper response she'd been asking for. Carol reached out and took Daryl's hand, examining it, ignoring the blood on his hands. He'd be surprised if she wasn't used to it by now. But she was right. On his ring finger was a silver band. Just plain and simple. Very Daryl. He snatched his hand back the second he realised what she was talking about. Carol was grinning at him, a tender look in her eyes. God damn that woman for being so observant. Though truly, they'd been in the same group for months and none of them ever noticed, so how observant could she really be? "Shut up."

"You're married?" Carol still had that grin on her face, and though her look was tender, there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. His girl wasn't with him. And while he hadn't fully accepted the fact she could be dead, he had accepted the fact that his chances of ever seeing her again were slim. Especially since it'd been so long.

"Worn ma ring whole time and you ain't never noticed?" Daryl shot back, more defensive than he'd like to have been. He didn't like being snappy with Carol, but, as anyone would have assumed, the topic was a touchy one.

"You and Merle were always off somewhere, or sitting miles away from us. Can't blame me for that," She replied, and to be fair, she wasn't exactly wrong. There was a pregnant pause, where Carol was trying to figure out what she should say. Could he even tell her? He didn't want no pity, but damn, talking about his girl, the memories? Talking to someone who wasn't Merle about her. Maybe it'd be nice. Or maybe not. "What happened to her?"

There was that silence again. The pause weighed heavy on both of them. Daryl took a deep breath and looked over at her. Fuck it. If there was anyone he could tell, anyone he could trust, it was Carol.

"Weren't nothin' bad. Didn't feel it then. Merle and me, we was goin' on 'nother huntin' trip. Ma girl only came sometimes. Weren't her thing. She was goin' to visit her ma, gave me this damn thang," He picked up a battery-powered video recorder from by his foot that Carol hadn't even seen. Yeah, maybe he was wrong about the whole observant thing. The corner of his lips twitched upwards as he opened it. "Said, 'just so you don't forget me'. I told her we'd only be gone two weeks," his fingers fiddled with the buttons, and he grew quiet, clicking onto one of the videos, but not playing yet. "Dead started risin' a week later. The ring and these dumb videos are all I have left right now."

Carol watched him as he talked, seeing the blank expression on his face warp into sadness, as he played with the video recorder, the way his eyes flickered over to his ring every now and again. He didn't think he'd been this vulnerable since he'd last seen his girl.

"She must have been really special to put up with someone like you," She teased, trying to make him a little more comfortable, nudging his shoulder. He smirked, finally looking away from the recorder.

"Yeah, she was," Daryl stated simply, before pressing play on the video.

"The hell you doin', woman?" Daryl's gruff voice sounded from behind the camera, as it spun around to reveal Daryl and a girl, maybe a year younger than him, with (H/C) loose and wild, as she danced around a kitchen. There was loud laughter behind the camera, Merle had been a dick when he found the recorder and kept filming them (he knew Daryl hated it). Lord knows he was thanking that asshole for filming it now. Merle said something in his southern drawl that Carol couldn't quite understand, but by the scowl that appeared on Daryl's face in the video, he clearly heard it. The girl beside him let out a chuckle and suddenly launched at Daryl, clinging to his arm as she bounced on her toes. Daryl lowered his glare to her, but Carol saw his eyes soften slightly. Merle spun the camera around to face him and made some raucous comment about christening the new house while he was away before the camera spun back around. It ended a second later, with Daryl swearing at Merle and using his hand to block the camera, and the girl let out a loud laugh.

Carol was smiling at the camera until she looked over at Daryl and saw a hardened look on his face. Damn those emotions of his.

"What was her name?" She whispered, scared if she spoke too loud, he'd crack.

"(Y/N)" were Daryl's final words, before he picked up the recorder, crossbow, his knife and his half skinned squirrel and moved into his tent, zipping it behind it.

His girl always knew what to do. Knew how to help. She was a leader, even if she liked to deny it. She'd know exactly what to do. Shane was a damn idiot, and Daryl knew she would have dealt with him already, rather than fucking about as Rick had. When Shane threw the barn doors open, letting all them damn walkers out, despite the whole groups' protests, he knew right there that his girl would have dealt with him. And when Sophia came trailing out, pale and cold, white-eyed, dirty with a bloody chunk missing from her shoulder, she would have known exactly what to do. But instead, he was the one catching Carol and watching as Rick put a bullet between her eyes. Daryl's girl would have known exactly what to do. But she wasn't there. As much as he wished she was. He was the one who comforted Carol and tried to help. But, equally, he was also the one who threw blame in her face and screamed at her. She didn't deserve that. No way in hell. But, he didn't know what to do. His girl would've.

"There ain't nothing out here but mosquitoes and ants," They'd only left Rick, Glenn and Maggie two hours ago, but Daryl was already starting to question his decision. He forgot how much his brother liked to run his mouth, and his hunger didn't help calm the situation much either.

"Patience, little brother. Sooner or later, a squirrel is bound to scurry across your path," Merle responded, stood over by the tree to have a piss.

"Even so, that ain't much food," Daryl kept his eyes trained on his surroundings. There'd been more than a few walkers sneaking up on them recently, and he was starting to get paranoid that it was the beginning of a herd.

"More than nothing," That asshole really have to choose now to go all quiet? All his damn brother did was talk.

"I'd have better luck going through one of them houses we passed back on the turnoff," Daryl observed, looking over in the direction of the turnoff as Merle zipped himself up and walked over. He had that shit-eating, condescending look on his face. Great.

"Is that what your new friends taught you? Hmm? How to loot for booty? You gotten real quiet since y'all left me on that dead infested rooftop in Atlanta. Them prison pussies soften you up?" Merle teased, looking over at his little brother with an amused look in his eyes. Daryl just snarled slightly, looking back in the direction of the street. "Oh, cmon now, can't be givin' ol' Merle the cold shoulder after all the shit we just went through."

"Man, fuck off," Daryl hissed back, glaring up at his brother. His side was throbbing with what he suspected was a broken rib, or at the very least bruised, after Merle's kicking and punching back in the arena. Merle narrowed his eyes in response, walking over and giving Daryl a light shove.

"What? Ya forget about how I took care of ya? Now ya spent some time with Officer Friendly and you're suddenly too good for ya brother?" He snapped, raising his eyebrows. Daryl huffed and straightened his back.

"Just lay off, Merle. There are walkers crawlin' 'round and ya runnin' ya mouth like a damn fool," he shot back, making a point to keep his voice low. Merle only let out one of his loud raucous laughs, causing Daryl to advance quickly.

"Easy, little brother. Ya lookin' like ya might pop a vein if ya keep gettin' pissed like that," Daryl didn't say anything, just stared back at him, the famous Dixon glare returning. "It's the Dixon's back together again, ain't it a good thang?"

"Not all the Dixons," The younger Dixon grumbled, pulling his crossbow up as a familiar growling filled the air, and a walker stumbled out from behind a tree. A quick pull of the trigger and the damn thing was on the floor, bolt between his eyes. Merle watched him for a second, watched the flash of anger and sadness in his eyes.

"Ya ever find 'er?" He asked quietly, as his brother walked over and pulled the bolt from the fuckers head. Daryl glanced up at him, holding his gaze for a minute before starting to walk again.

"Man, we've been at it for hours. Why don't we find a stream, try to look for some fish?"

"I think you're just trying to lead me back to the road, man. Get me over to that prison," Merle scoffed. Damn it. He knew his brother'd put up a fight but he didn't think he'd pick it up so quickly. Then again, his brother was an idiot, but he wasn't stupid.

"They got shelter. Food. A pot to piss in. Might not be a bad idea," Yeah, and the rest of his family. And his video recorder.

"If ya gonna try and lead me back to that prison, you could at least answer my damn question, baby brother," Merle stated, noticing how Daryl's shoulders tensed slightly. There was silence, apart from the occasional rustling of trees, which made the brothers look around, never letting their guard down despite the conversation.

"Naw. She was up in South Carolina before these bastards starting comin'. Knew I weren't gonna find her here. Doubt she came back," Was his response, but apparently, that was enough for Merle. For now at least.

"C'mon let's go hook some fish," And with that Merle was steaming ahead, leaving Daryl in place. He let out a sigh and spat on the ground before trailing after the elder Dixon.

But of course, they had to save someone else's asses, nearly getting themselves killed in the process. And of course, Merle wanted to rob this poor family. They had a baby for Christ's sake! "The shit you doing, pointing that thing at me?" Merle raged, once they got a good distance from the group they'd just rescued.

"They were scared, man," Daryl reasoned, narrowing his eyes for what felt like the millionth time.

"They were rude is what they were. Rude and they owed us a token of gratitude," God, if his girl were here, she would have knocked his teeth out by now. She loved Merle and cared about him, but they clashed heads more than he and Daryl did. And damn that was a high number.

"They didn't owe us nothing," he shot back, looking back in that direction, even though the red car the group had been in were long gone

"You helpin' people out of the goodness of your heart? Even though you might die doing it? Is that something your Sheriff Rick taught you?" Merle said with a cold laugh, interrupted halfway through with Daryl's comment of "There was a baby!". Merle couldn't help but think that his brother had gone soft. "Oh, otherwise you would have just left them to the biters, then"

"Man, I went back for you. You weren't there. I didn't cut off your hand, neither. You did that. Way before they locked you up on that roof. You asked for it!"

"You know-- you know what's funny to me? You and Sheriff Rick are like this now. Right?" Merle crossed his fingers in front of Daryl's face, only aggravating the hunter further. " I bet you a penny and a fiddle of gold that you never told him that we were planning on robbing that camp blind. I told you that that woman had made you soft. Hell, ya got married just ta make her happy. Dixons don't need no one but each other!"

"Ya leave ma girl out of this, ya hear? Besides, it didn't happen," Daryl growled, voice dangerously low to the point that even Merle knew he truly should drop his sister-in-law out of the discussion.

"Yeah, it didn't 'cause I wasn't there to help you."

"What, like when we were kids, huh? Who left who then?" Daryl hadn't really meant to say it. He hadn't. But once it was out, the air set on fire, and both brothers were seeing red.

"What? Huh? Is that why I lost my hand?"Merle retaliated, pointing and getting right into Daryl's face, knowing how much it got under his skin.

"You lost your hand 'cause you're a simpleminded piece of shit!" Daryl turned his back, moving to pick up his backpack from the floor when Merle lunged forward, gripping the fabric off his shoulders.

"Yeah? You don't know-!" A sharp tug, and a loud rip and Merle's words caught in his throat. Silence filled the air, as the raised and discoloured markings down Daryl's back presented themselves to the world. Some of them were from hunts, or from accidents in the apocalypse, but some, Merle recognised them too damn well from his own time spent with their daddy. Once Daryl had fully clocked what had just happened, he pulled the shirt back up as much as he could and slung his bag over the top. That was it. He'd had enough. " I- I didn't know he was-"

"Yeah, he did. He did the same to you. That's why ya left first," Daryl answered sharply, not turning back to look at him. Merle just shook his head.

"I had to, man. I would have killed him otherwise," Daryl only chuckled humourlessly, and set off in the opposite direction, only turning back when Merle added, "Where you going?"

"Back where I belong," Was Daryl's reply, not even noticing he'd started to spin his ring with his thumb at his side. Old habits.

"I can't go with you. I tried to kill that black bitch. Damn near killed the Chinese kid," Merle tried to reason, but Daryl could only scoff in response. Classic Merle.

"He's Korean," He stated simply.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter, man. I just can't go with you, "Merle pulled a face, and for a split second, Daryl felt guilty. But he was an asshole. If he decided to come, then so be it, but if he decided to stay behind, good riddance.

"You know, I may be the one walking away... but you're the one that's leaving- again."

"What's goin' on that brain baby brother?" Merle asked, leaning in the doorway to the cellblock, slightly alarmed to be sat quietly at the top of the stairway, where his sleeping bag was, spaced out. Normally, he'd be pacing or cleaning that stupid crossbow for the thousandth time. But no, he was dead still. Dead quiet. The others were out and about. Most of them were in the yard, clearing out the walkers that Axel had stupidly let in when he opened the gate. Michonne, Rick and Carl had gone out on a run to their home town for weapons against the governor fucker. And Daryl, Merle and Little Asskicker (who Daryl had found out had been named Judith, but Little Asskicker seemed more appropriate) had been left alone in the cellblock. Rick trusted Daryl enough to keep her safe from Merle.

"Ya really think she made me soft?" Daryl pondered out loud, holding Little Asskicker close to him, as he started rocking her slightly. Merle laughed, waving his metal attachment around dramatically.

"This place's 'bout to go crashin' to the ground, and you're thinkin' about your lady?"Merle wasn't a man of affection, Daryl knew that pretty well, but he also knew when he was deflecting. Merle talked about (Y/N) sure, but only briefly. Since the brothers and his girl got separated in the beginning, they both steered clear of long conversations about her. Daryl just stared Merle down, until he let out a huff, and took a few slow steps into the cellblock. "She made ya soft, ain't gonna lie ta ya. Even you can't deny that, little brother. Never said it was an entirely bad thing."

"She made me better. Never really know what she saw in me, but whatever it was, I'm glad she did," Daryl's lips twitched upwards, as he looked down at Little Asskicker. His girl would love her. She'd love Carl too. Hell, she would love everyone. She would've kept things calm.

"Look, I'm an old redneck asshole, but that girl o' yours is the best damn thing that ever happened to ya. Ya ever find her again, you don't let her go, hear me?" He didn't miss the commanding tone in Merle's voice and part of him wanted to laugh at it. Been a long time since he'd heard that tone. Daryl just nodded. "Ya still got that video recorder witcha?"

Daryl nodded, before jerking his head towards the little pile of stuff besides his sleeping bag. Merle climbed past him, careful not to knock the baby, and picked it up. He sat next to his brother, and for a second it was awkward. They hadn't been this close in years. Not like this. But when Merle opened up the camera and clicked on one of the videos, the awkwardness dissipated.

It took a second for the camera to come into focus, as the blazing Georgia sun reflected off the lens. Once it came into focus, Merle was once again filming the couple. Daryl and (Y/N) were stood in a little lake and both of them were just washing dirt and dried animal blood from their arms and legs, chatting too quietly for the camera to pick up. Merle mumbled something behind the camera about "being too fuckin' absorbed in their own world", when suddenly a laughter-filled scream tore through the peace, as Daryl sent a massive splash in (Y/N)'s direction. She was giggling but giving him a playful glare, the famous Dixon glare. He let out a loud laugh as she tried to push him into the water with little success, until he stepped back and lost his footing, pulling them both under the water. The camera shook as Merle let out a roar of a laugh, stumbling forward towards the water, as the pair came up, both sat on their asses in the shallow water. (Y/N) looked over to Merle, beaming with that smile that made Daryl's heartache, but flipped him the bird when she realised he was filming, shouting "asshole" at him. Daryl just chuckled and pulled her into him, no longer giving a shit about the camera, and kissed her, which they were both smiling into. Merle then said something childish like "horny kids" or something before the video ended, with Daryl and (Y/N)'s foreheads pressed together.

"She's something special ain't she?" Daryl said, through a voice that was thicker than he wished it to be, looking down at Little Asskicker with a sad smile.

"Hell yeah, she was."

Daryl didn't know how much more he could take. The prison had fallen, and they'd taken Beth. He swore he'd protect her. Swore to himself, swore to the memory of Hershel, swore to Maggie. And he still lost her. And when the group of assholes found him sat in the middle of the street, practically walker bait, he was starting to get desperate. He'd do almost anything at this point, he was so lost. His brother was gone now too. He couldn't even rely on that asshole. The one and only thing he'd been able to grab to remember his family was that fucking video recorder. But he'd found Rick, Carl, Michonne. And while he wished he could've found everyone, he was more than happy to have found the kid most of all. Though, he couldn't deny the anguish that filled him when he saw no sign of Little Asskicker and a sombre look on their faces when he asked I think it was safe to say that Rick was going off the deep end again. The man ripped a guys jugular out with his fucking teeth! After everything, Daryl honestly couldn't blame him, but last time Carl nearly lost who he was because of it. That couldn't happen again. Despite it all, they kept walking, and walking and walking, along the train tracks to this place Terminus. 'Sanctuary for all'. Somehow he found that hard to believe. But maybe he would be surprised. Maybe it would be a sanctuary. Maybe they could take a break for once. Yeah. As far as Daryl was concerned, it wasn't damn likely.

TAGS: OPEN

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[asleepinawell]

hiii not sure if it’s okay to ask a poi question but here it goes - i recall seeing you expressing (at least some level of) discontent with what Harold has done on the show (to root, to shaw and all those hypocritical decisions throughout). would you like to share more about your thoughts on this character? tks

always okay to ask poi questions. since the fandom is pretty small these days i was going to put my answer under a read more line so people could ignore it more easily if it’s a subject that bothers them but apparently you can’t add read more lines in ask answers? thanks tumblr! so if this is a topic that annoys anyone, please, just skip it. also, while some of this is facts or based on facts a lot of stuff is obviously my opinion and therefore not canon and not the only opinion etc etc.

in general, i wasn’t crazy about the way harold treated any of the other characters (with the exception of john who he had a pretty great relationship with). for root, there was the refusal to call her root, which i found very gross and uncomfortable (like, in general you should respect what people ask to be called, but also it was linked to the traumatic death of her childhood friend and he absolutely knew that so fuck that shit). he even said something along the lines of 'john reese is what you prefer to be called' to john right in the first episode? he was okay with using reese's fake name, but not hers because he made her identity into a power game.

he also tended to be..hmm, patronizing is the wrong word (and lbr root was extremely patronizing to everyone) but more that he treated her like ‘rehabilitating’ her was his pet project or something. i mean one thing that always struck me was his ‘what happened to you’ line in bad code and then the subsequent decision to put her in a mental institution instead of, you know, jail, which is where every other perp they ran into tended to go. he saw her as broken and flawed and in need of his help which, to me, came off as hypocritical and belittling.

also, putting someone in a psychiatric institution where they get pumped full of drugs when they don’t need to be? really fucked up! even if you argue root needed therapy/was depressed whatever, that’s not what they were treating her for. they were treating her for ‘delusions’ and ‘hearing voices’ which were...real things. like, the machine was speaking to her. harold knew that. he let her get put on all sorts of medication and put in solitary confinement and oh yes also her doctor was a really fucked up dude, something harold could easily have dug up if he’d bothered. also the whole ‘killing off a woman to advance a man’s character development thing’ is, uh, a bad trope. to put it mildly. i could write a lot more about his shit with root but let’s move on.

in some ways, his attitude towards shaw bothers me most. he consistently treats her like she’s violent and unhinged because she has aspd and despite the large amount of evidence to the contrary. she is, in fact, the most cool and controlled member of the team (not counting carter) and the least likely to go off half-cocked. shaw does play into this, but mostly only with harold and only through her words, not her actions. she knows what he thinks of her. when she’s captured by samaritan, harold gives up on her very quickly in a way he would never have done for john (and probably not for root either at that point). shaw’s reaction to sim!harold in 6741 of ‘did you even look for me’ says a lot about what she thinks he thinks of her. his whole ‘binary moral compass’ line to her is also, uh, heavily projecting. shaw and carter had the strongest moral compasses of the group. by a long shot. 

moving on to the machine. so first and foremost, if you’re creating a sentient being, whether that’s having a kid or making a self-aware AI, you don’t create something with the intention of locking it up and ignoring it forever. (and he was creating her for the bush/cheney administration???? who TM pointed out was terrible if he somehow had managed to miss that. root called them something like the worst people imaginable and she wasn’t exaggerating). was it too dangerous to let TM be free from the get go? maybe! but then don’t fucking make an AI you think can destroy the world, buddy. there are a lot of reasons he made TM and none of them make this acceptable to me. once TM had clearly proven to be not a threat and trying to help he continued to ignore her and act like she was dangerous.

harold always needed very badly to feel like he had the moral high ground and not be the person who made a bad decision, which yes, is probably partly due to the trauma from what happened to nathan but that doesn’t make it okay when being paralyzed by being unable to make a decision got people killed. more than once! also, most of his morals got tossed out when they weren’t convenient. wouldn’t kill the senator to save the world because killing is bad! next episode he’s like if anything happens to grace kill all of them. cool story, still murder.

i wanna conclude this rant by talking about harold as a character vs harold as a person. meaning, harold as a fictional character who is used as a narrative device in a story as opposed to harold himself without the context of him being fictional. i don’t mind characters who say and do things i dislike. it’s very important to have characters you dislike as people imo. feels like an understatement. but lambet, for example, is a slimy asshole. the story is aware of this. he gets an ending a slimy asshole deserves. harold has a lot of flaws, and causes a lot of damage, gets his friends killed, and his stubborn refusal to budge on his arbitrary moral high ground lets samaritan take over and almost makes team machine lose. he gets a happy ending. with the woman he lied to (and caused a lot of pain and grief by lying to). root ends up dead, shaw gets tortured and fights her way back for root only to have her die which is kind of handwaved as ‘well she has tm with root’s voice good enough’, and john, after having rediscovered his will to live and have a life in the end of s4 goes right back to his whole dying for someone else thing. only harold gets the happy ending.

the show was actually pretty good at highlighting harold’s flaws and making them interesting, and then it kind of forgot that at the end in terms of story outcome. like, if harold had suffered enough to get a happy ending, then why didn’t anyone else get one? so my annoyance was with the narrative’s failure to satisfactorily conclude the characters’ arcs. (and for the record, i’m not one of the people who think he should have died. i don’t think it would have served a point. also death doesn’t equal redemption to me).

so, yeah, not a fan of him. don’t write him in my fics since my dislike would take time and focus away from writing about the people i do like. would probably be less bitter if they’d ended the show better. i was 300k words fic level of bitter. there was some post i saw going around recently about how if your found family show doesn’t end up with your found family together then you’ve kind of missed the whole point of found family and yeah, that.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Hey hey!

Could you do 'Shielding the other with their body?' With good old Scott and throwing you for a loop maybe its shielding Jeff?

Stop Him

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Jeff, Scott, Gordon

Oooh, some Scott&Jeff.  As it happens, my muse has been lurking in this area a lot recently (we can thank Nutty’s Callisto fic for that) so this ask was perfectly timed!  Hmm, now, what would Scott be shielding Jeff from, and perhaps more importantly, what does Jeff think about this?

...oh, hello, Gordon.  Sneaking in again are we?

Touches Ask Game

Scott was many things.  Jeff might have missed eight years of it, but his mind still overlapped that small, fragile bundle with bright blue eyes and a loud voice with the young man who stood tall and proud at the head of the pack, and all the stages in between.

Right now, Scott - tall, proud, brave adult Scott - was small and fragile against him, and Jeff’s mind was short-circuiting as it tried to correlate the two ideas.  How this had happened. Why it had happened.

Scott was heavy.  Warm and solid but dangerously fragile as he slumped over him and Jeff was the only thing between him and collapse.

This shouldn’t be happening.  This shouldn’t have happened, and Jeff knew he was trembling as his hands came up to his son.  They gripped his shoulders, skipped down his arms, fluttered around his waist before slipping beneath his arms and wrapping around his back.

Warm back. Wet back, and Jeff had never been squeamish, but it was different when it was his son’s blood.  His child’s blood, seeping across his fingers and trickling down his palm, across his wrists.

Scott shouldn’t be bleeding.  Scott shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have thrown himself into the path of the shrapnel heading straight for Jeff.  Scott shouldn’t have sacrificed himself for his father.

His breath tickled Jeff’s collarbone, a reassurance that he was still alive even though he was slumped over and not moving.  Not pulling himself upright, not standing straight and proud and shrugging it all off as nothing.  Jeff couldn’t see his face; he had no idea if Scott was still conscious.  Something told him he wasn’t.

He hadn’t hesitated to use himself as a shield, and that terrified Jeff.  He’d always been proud of Scott’s selflessness, the way he’d put others’ needs before his own, but now the doubt started creeping in.  Why was Scott so selfless?  How many times had he risked himself to save someone else?  Did he ever put himself first?

Did Scott even realise how precious he was?

There was some bias in Jeff’s opinion, he knew that.  He was his father, of course Scott was one of the most precious things in his world.  But that changed nothing.  Scott was irreplaceable, both in his family and to the world that owed him a debt he’d never acknowledge, and it was irreplaceable young man that Jeff held in his arms, warm liquid trickling down his wrists and leaving lines of fire behind.

“Scott.”  His voice broke and his knees buckled.  It was barely a controlled fall as he sank to his knees, eldest child a ragdoll in his arms.  “No. Scott.”

Once upon a time, Jeff had been a first responder, but there had been eight long years of solitude and as of yet, no recapped training.  Instincts screamed at him to do something, but his mind had gone blank and all he could do was clutch his son to his chest as his own breath juddered with the promise of sobs.

“Why?” he asked, the word spilling from dry, clumsy lips.  “For me-  You-  Scott.”  Scott had his whole life ahead of him.  He shouldn’t be discarding it so easily for a damaged man whose remaining years were numbered.  Not for him.

Scott didn’t respond.  Jeff couldn’t see his face, not when he was clutching him so tightly, but the breath on his skin was still there, still too slow and even for him to be conscious.

A hand landed on his shoulder.  Firm, enough to bruise, and he knew without looking who it was.  There was only one son that didn’t treat him like he was made of glass.

“Dad, you have to let go.”  Virgil was there, too, fussing and trying to get him to relinquish his grip.  “Dad, I can’t stop the bleeding like this.”

The hand on his shoulder lifted, and instead fingers were tugging at his, forcing him to let go.  It hurt, but not as much as his heart did at the sight of Virgil manoeuvring his brother onto a stretcher, compression packs deployed to slow the bleeding as his middle son once again proved he’d inherited his grandmother’s aptitude for healing.

Virgil wasn’t paying him any attention; Jeff understood that.  After all, it was Scott that was hurt, Scott who needed the help, and Scott who his brothers would always look to first.

That had been a bitter pill to swallow once he was home and realised his sons now listened to Scott over him.

The firm hands were back on his shoulder now, and he looked up at the other present son.  Amber eyes were alight with familiar fire - for someone so attuned to water, his eyes could blaze like an inferno.

“You have to stop him.”  Another other son would be offering platitudes - not your fault, he’s always like this, he’ll be fine - but not Gordon.  It wasn’t the first time this topic had come up, but Jeff had always dismissed it.  Scott had just been looking after his brothers like he always did; of course he worried about it, but Scott had always been that way and despite the near-misses, that had been what they were - misses.

Now on the receiving end of Scott’s self-sacrificing nature himself, Gordon’s demands that he get Scott to back off sounded less like a whining child complaining because big brother got in the way again and more like a true fear.  Jeff hated himself for it; he’d forgotten Gordon was all grown up now and wouldn’t be prone to dramatics just for the sake of attention.

How many times had Scott thrown himself in front of his brothers?  How many times had his other sons been in his exact position, terrified that they’d just been the reason that beautiful, precious, young man had breathed his last?

“How?” he rasped.  Scott had been selfless for as long as he could remember; how could some old man past his prime possibly get him to stand aside when he thought he could do something about it?

The raging inferno died down, leaving something a little sad in its place, and Gordon pulled him to his feet, an assistance that also felt like a message.

“You’re his hero,” he said, as though those words didn’t pierce Jeff’s already aching heart and twist it all around.  “If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.”

There was desperation in the words, a plea for Jeff to save his biggest brother from himself.  Jeff wondered how many times the boys had tried to convince Scott themselves.  How many times they’d failed.

He wondered how many times they’d wished he was there to step in.  He wondered if things would have got this bad - and it was bad, how had he never seen that before - if he hadn’t been blasted to the Oort Cloud, leaving behind five traumatised sons.

There were no words he could offer - I’ll talk to him seemed too small, too insignificant for the subject matter at hand - so he swallowed and nodded.  It seemed to be good enough for Gordon.

With his blond son’s help, he stumbled over to the stretcher, looking down at the limp body of his eldest child and reaching out with trembling fingers.  “Oh, Scotty,” he whispered, one hand lacing with Scott’s while the other found dark brown hair stained with grey.  There was no response.

[seanfalco]

Want | Priest!Kay x Reader {Part II}

Fandom: Season of the Witch Modern!AU Word Count: 2k Warnings: Catholicism, Religious imagery, Angst, Infidelity  (I’m also not Catholic, so hopefully I haven’t made any glaring errors.)

masterlist

He thought it would get easier as the weeks wore on, but Kay grimaced as he stepped behind the pulpit to face the congregation, his gaze instantly seeking out [y/n], her fiance’s arm resting across her shoulders, and he had to admit to himself that it was quite the opposite -- it was only getting harder to see her with him.   To keep his thoughts pure.

Their first lesson together had been… awkward to say the least, but by the second one they’d almost fallen back into the easy friendship of their teen days, which was both a relief and a worry to Kay.

If they kept getting more comfortable around each other, who knew what would happen then?

It was already going to be hard enough for him to watch her marry someone else when not so long ago that was what he’d wanted.  Growing close to her again would only make it that much harder.

When he’d broken up with her and left for seminary school like his father had wanted he thought he’d never see her again -- that even though it wasn’t what he’d wanted, that time would heal all wounds and that throwing himself into his studies would distract him enough to forget his feelings for her, and for a time it had, but it didn’t last.

He still sometimes woke in a cold sweat, their breakup haunting his dreams, the hurt look on her face as he’d turned away wrenching at his heart.  

They’d been so young and it had all happened so fast, their feelings too great, too overwhelming, too soon.

And he’d ran.

Only to find regret waiting for him, but by then it was too late and now… now he’d have to live with that regret.

He’d never have [y/n], and he’d never be a good priest.  How could he give all of himself to God if someone else still held his heart?

——

“So, how was your week?” Kay asked, hanging up his robe as [y/n] took her usual seat across from his desk, the little notebook she’d been scribbling notes in during their lessons resting in her lap.

He knew that she’d never been religious before, not outright atheist, but definitely agnostic.  However, during their lessons she was attentive and diligent -- always asking questions and taking notes.  He just wasn’t sure how much of that was from a true willingness to learn or merely out of respect for him.

“It wasn’t bad,” she answered with a small shrug.  “Nothing much happened.  This is honestly the highlight of my week,” she admitted, her eyes flicking up to his meaningfully.

Somehow Kay doubted it was because of church, but he’d be lying if he said that this wasn’t the highlight of his week as well…

“I’m glad our lessons mean that much to you,” he murmured, fighting the urge to loosen his collar.  “Uhm, before we get started,” he continued quickly, forcing his hands to still in front of him on his desk.  He’d definitely caught [y/n]’s little smirk at his words, and was trying to ignore it.  

“Why don’t you tell me a little about Matthew.  How you two met,” Kay suggested, trying to keep his voice neutral, but [y/n] looked up at him sharply, suspicion in her calculating gaze.

It was purely in his interest as their Reverend, he told himself.  He wasn’t asking for any other reason.

Frowning for a moment, [y/n] cleared her throat.  “We met through our parents,” she explained slowly, her expression not exactly what one would expect a newly engaged woman to wear as she spoke of her betrothed, and Kay’s heart constricted.

She doesn’t look happy, he observed as she told him how their parents had thought it would be a good match.

Don’t be ridiculous, Kay told himself firmly, ignoring that first thought.  That’s just wishful thinking because part of you doesn't want her to get married, to lay with anyone else, to look at them with love in her eyes, when it should be you.

Shaking loose his thoughts, Kay realized he’d missed much of what she’d said, but what he had caught hadn’t exactly sounded romantic, and he fought against losing himself once more to memories of their time together before it had all come crashing down.

Of late night phone calls that neither wanted to end, leading to Kay listening to [y/n] sleep over the phone, wishing she were next to him instead of her own bed.  Of handwritten love letters passed discreetly through lockers and left in textbooks, clandestine make out sessions during cut classes, and holding hands as he walked her home every day.  Of their awkward, if sweet, first time that had led to a second time shortly after, full of laughter and affirmations of love.

Did she love Matthew like she’d loved him?

“Kay…?”

“Hmm, I’m sorry, I lost my thoughts for a moment there,” he admitted sheepishly, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious where his thoughts had slipped to.

“That’s alright, it’s not exactly the most riveting story,” [y/n] murmured with a wry twist of her lips.  “Let’s, uhm, let’s get on with the lesson, shall we?” she asked and Kay was only too relieved to agree, not exactly keen to dwell any more on the topic of [y/n]’s fiance.

——

In order to speed things along to keep on schedule for your swiftly approaching wedding, Kay had suggested meeting twice a week for your lessons, and you’d only been all too happy to agree.

However, it was getting harder and harder to keep him off your mind, finding yourself thinking of him during every spare moment, even on the rare occasions Matthew wanted to have sex.  The night before, you’d nearly cried out the wrong name, Kay’s name practically springing to your lips, and disappointment twisted like a knife when you’d opened your eyes to find it wasn’t him hovering over you.

So it was to your great dismay that today’s lesson was about confession.

“We went over all this in principle last time, but this time we’ll do a practice run,” Kay was saying as he led you down to the sanctuary, blessedly empty save for the two of you.  Stopping in front of the confessional, your stomach in your throat, you hesitated, Kay noticing your reluctance.

“Are you nervous, [y/n]?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” you murmured, your nerves at an all time high.

“I promise it’s not as daunting as it seems,” Kay murmured, resting his hand on the small of your back, ushering you toward the door, a reassuring smile on his face.

As you took your seat atop the hard wooden bench inside you fidgeted as you waited for Kay to join you on the other side of the latticed partition.

This would be so much easier if you didn’t know the priest.

“Okay, [y/n],” Kay said as he took his seat, his voice soothing.  “Remember, the Sacrament of Confession is between you, me, and God.  I cannot disclose anything you tell me in here, to anyone,” he reminded you and you nodded, though it didn’t exactly make you feel any better.  He would still know about it.

“Alright my child, you may begin,” Kay prompted and you bit your lip, taking a steadying breath.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began, reciting the words he’d taught you.  “I uhm, I’ve sinned, well… a lot, and uhh, recently, in fact,” you muttered, looking down at your hands.  

With the partition between you, you couldn’t really see Kay, just his outline, but you could feel his gaze on you.

“Well, I’ve… masterbated… and I use birth control regularly, which is a big no-no, I guess,” you said, giving a nervous laugh before continuing.   “I’ve had premarital sex, which… I mean, you know about that,” you added, clearing your throat, reluctant to admit more.

“Go on, you’re doing well,” Kay urged gently and you nodded, continuing.

“I… I’ve coveted, and lied, I’ve taken the Lord’s name in vain and I’ve…” your voice faltered and failed.  “I’ve--” you tried again, taking another breath and swallowing, your throat suddenly very dry.

“I’ve had thoughts of an impure nature about someone other than my fiance,” you admitted.  “--About someone I should not be.  Someone I thought I’d never see again.”

Pausing, it was obvious who you meant, and your eyes flicked up to the partition where you felt Kay’s were and you wondered just what sort of expression he was wearing.

“And now that I have… seen him again, I can’t seem to get him off my mind,” you murmured.

For a long moment silence stretched and you wished you could take it all back.

“[y/n].” Kay’s voice wavered before strengthening.  “That is… highly inappropriate,” he said hesitantly, his words like a slap to the face, though you knew he was right.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you exclaimed.  “I’ve tried to stop, believe me!  But I fucking can’t and I--I don’t know if I want to,” you cried, frantically blinking back tears, your stomach churning.  “I miss you, Kay, and every moment we’re together feels like torture.  I… I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

“[y/n]--”

Before he could say more, you pushed off the bench and threw open the door, suddenly feeling lightheaded and needing air, Kay right on your heels.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about me too,” you exclaimed, turning to him, frustration and anger lacing your words.  Kay watched you with an unreadable expression.  “I’ve seen it in your eyes, Kay.  You always had the worst poker face.  Don’t tell me there’s nothing there,”you insisted, almost pleading and he looked away, blinking rapidly.

“[y/n], don’t…” he said, unable to quite look at you.  “You know we can’t happen.”

“You didn’t answer me,” you pressed, taking a step toward him, desperation filling your voice now, your stomach twisting til you felt you were going to be sick.  

“It… it doesn’t matter,” Kay replied sadly, shaking his head.  “I’m a man of the cloth now.  I’m committed to the Church and you -- you’re engaged to be married, [y/n]!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he lifted his arms only to let them fall helplessly to his sides again, his hands curling into fists.

“What we had was a long time ago.  We’ve both moved on, and I won’t be the one to break up your marriage.  I don’t want to be the reason,” he insisted, though it looked like it pained him to say it.

“Yeah well, I never wanted this!” you cried, your voice clearly shaking now and you couldn’t keep the tears from your eyes any longer, feeling them fall down your cheeks.  “You were the one that pushed me away and then… then you ran away where I couldn’t follow!”

Taking a shaky breath, you scrubbed at the dampness streaking your face.  “You want my confession, Father?  I still have feelings for you, they never went away,” you admitted, breathing heavily, your chest constricting with panic.

When Kay didn’t speak, his emerald eyes pained, you continued, grasping at straws.

“Is this truly what you want?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“It is,” he said softly, carefully not meeting your gaze.  “Even if I… harboured feelings for you, I cannot act on them, so please don’t put me in that position, [y/n].”

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes rising to yours once more, he shook his head sadly, his long curls shivering.

“Besides, you don’t want me,” he murmured.  “I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

Deafening silence filled the church and you stood there in disbelief.

If only you’d kept your mouth shut, you thought angrily -- angry at yourself, because you knew, you knew deep down you couldn’t have just kept going that way, lying to yourself, to him.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to lift your chin.

“You’re wrong.”

When you turned, Kay took a panicked step toward you, reaching out before you pulled away.

“Where are you going?  [y/n]?” he called after you, but you didn’t stop, heading for the doors.

“I’m sorry, Kay.  I can’t do this.”

Without another word you yanked open the handle and slipped out of the church before he could convince you to stay.

----------------------

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[fandom-necromancer]

404 attraction not found

Had an idea in the shower. Had to write it. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Oh man, I’m not into men usually, but I’d definitely be gay for that one’, Chris laughed, admiring the person on the screen of the superhero movie they were watching currently. It was Friday evening: movie night. ‘God, he’s so hot, imagine his ass out of uniform!’ Gavin lifted his brows, studying the character and still not really seeing what Chris meant. The man looked over to them and laughed. ‘Come on, can’t be the only one!’ ‘Sorry, I’ve got the hots for the villain once again. She’s just too powerful not to love.’ ‘And you?’, Chris asked and nudged Gavin with his elbow. ‘Hmm? Yeah, same. Dude’s hot’, he answered. ‘Now keep it in your pants, haven’t seen this one yet! Wanna know what happens next.’ ‘Alright’, Chris chuckled and leaned back. Gavin did see how Tina side-eyed him knowingly, but chose to ignore it, hoping she wouldn’t address the topic in a misguided attempt to help.

They continued watching the movie, eating snacks and talking about anything that came to their mind. Tina got increasingly clingy the more she had drunken and as it had long become dark outside, Gavin decided to leave, driving her home. He thanked Chris and waved him goodbye at the door of his car. Their drive was silent until they stopped at a red light. ‘I’m sorry Gavin’, Tina lulled touching his elbow gently. ‘Maybe if you told him-‘ ‘Tina, it doesn’t bother me, okay?’, Gavin told her, maybe a bit too harsh. ‘And I’m really not in the mood to explain it yet again and hear all the same phrases over and over again. I can’t even complain or get mad about them, they are well meant. Phck. I will just continue to say what I’m supposed to say and it’s done with. Path of least resistance, as always. The reward really doesn’t justify the effort, okay?’ ‘Alright!’, Tina nodded, giving him a shaky thumbs-up. ‘My lips are sealed.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘And what’s with Nines?’

Gavin frowned and looked over at her. ‘What’s with Nines?’ ‘You two. Anything going on?’ ‘How many times do I have to tell you? We are friends, Tina.’ ‘Are you sure?’ She smiled at him. ‘I’d say the tin-can has the hots for you.’ Gavin groaned. ‘Come on. Who the hell would want me? And hell, even if it were like that, I’ll deal with it if it happens someday, okay?’ ‘You don’t want to do anything about it? Are you interested?’ ‘Tina. I barely know the guy. I mean, sure, we spend a lot of time together. But that’s it. It’s difficult. I’m can’t know it like you seeing the girl of your dreams and drooling over how hot her thighs or something. I like him, I enjoy spending time with him. I could imagine living with him. That’s all.’ ‘Booooring.’ ‘Tina, I’m not existing to entertain you.’ ‘Still you do most of the days.’ ‘Then maybe you have a shitty sense of humour.’

Tina laughed and sat up. ‘Alright, you win, okay? Just know that if you want a relationship you deserve it.’ ‘Yeah, the hell I deserve it!’, Gavin sighed exasperated, gripping the steering wheel tighter. But who’s the poor phcker that deserves this, he added as an afterthought.

-

‘Hey, Gavin?’ The Detective looked up from his terminal to Nines who was standing next to him placing a coffee on his table. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Are you free on Monday?’ Gavin frowned. ‘Yeah, I should be, why?’ ‘I’d like to invite you out. I discovered a really nice restaurant that serves android food. Thought we could try it out?’ Gavin shrugged, already back to his report. ‘Yeah, sure. Would love to.’ He missed the way Nines beamed at that answer. It might have given him the push to realise Monday was the 14th February. Valentine’s day.

He only realised that the Sunday before as he contemplated what to wear. He immediately called Tina: ‘T, red alert! Tomorrow is Valentine’s day.’ ‘Yeah, I know. What’s up?’ ‘Well, Nines invited me to a restaurant tomorrow.’ ‘Oh, that’s nice! I’m happy for you!’ ‘Yeah, well I’m not!’, Gavin returned. ‘Is that a date?’ ‘Maybe? Could be. What did he tell you?’ ‘He just said it was a fancy restaurant that sells android food he wanted to try out.’ Tina sighed. ‘I don’t know then. Could very well be a date. With the day and all.’ ‘God, what if he’s interested?’, Gavin asked. ‘Tina, I will ruin it. The guy will hate me.’ ‘Why should he?’ ‘Because I will have to tell him I’m basically not interested!’ ‘But you are right?’, Tina dug deeper. ‘Yeah, but until I’ve explained him in what way I’m interested, he will already be disappointed!’ ‘Gavin’, his friend spoke up, reminding him to keep calm. ‘You are overthinking. Nines is pretty direct. Maybe this isn’t a date at all. And if it is, you have no way of predicting his reaction. All I know is that Nines is a very patient being. You should go.’ ‘Of course I will go, Tina. Phck, just know that after this is over, I will need a new partner.’

-

The restaurant really looked nice from where Gavin was sitting in his car. It had a modern feeling but lots of dark wood had been used inside that made it comfy and bordering to a touch dowdy. He could see the android sitting at a table at the far corner by the windows and he was sure he had already recognised his car. Gavin shouldn’t stay inside for long, but he couldn’t really bring himself to exit either. ‘It’s just you two meeting at a restaurant Gavin. You had been to the movies already. You had met to watch the boats pass on the river, for phcks sake! This is just another one of those things you do together. Don’t think too much!’ He pushed himself up and exited the car, locking it and pulling his clothes in order. Then he walked over, entered and quickly made his way over to Nines’ table.

‘Hello Gavin!’, the android greeted him. ‘Nice to see you.’ ‘Hi’, Gavin answered, sitting down. ‘Yeah, you too.’ ‘You look nice.’ Gavin swallowed and looked at the android. He didn’t wear a suit, but a nice white shirt with a blue tie. He was thankful he had picked something more presentable than his usual attire: A blue short-sleeved shirt and light blue jeans. ‘Err… you too.’ Damn, he was repeating himself.

‘I’m really interested in how this android food works’, Nines changed topics then, handing Gavin a menu. ‘I know it’s all a combination of Thirium and compounds we can break down in our filtering systems. But Connor loves it, he told me it actually has taste, even if it’s mostly messing with our analysing programs to achieve that.’ Gavin nodded. ‘Yeah, sounds cool. I mean, eating is nice, I guess.’ ‘I don’t know if I will like it, to be honest’, Nines shrugged. ‘I mean, we don’t need to eat and to a large part it’s just complications to clean afterwards. But You can share a meal with someone and I guess that’s the whole appeal for human android couples.’

Gavin didn’t want to look at Nines as he said that and instead let his eyes wander over the other people in the restaurant. A large – if not all of them – were indeed human android couples spending Valentine’s day together. Laughing at each other’s jokes, eating and toasting to the other. It made Gavin even more uncomfortable though. A fact that Nines picked up on immediately, of course. But before he could speak up, a waiter came up to them and saved Gavin from the conversation. Both of them ordered and waited until the waiter had disappeared. Gavin had hoped the android had forgotten, but instead Nines spoke up: ‘You are nervous.’ ‘Yeah, no shit, tin-can. Well, not nervous, but…‘ ‘But?’

Gavin sighed and looked at the android, who was returning his stare completely neutral. ‘Nines, what is this? You invited me out to a fancy restaurant on Valentine’s day. It could be you just wanted to try the food, but I’m afraid there’s more to it.’ Nines pulled a grimace, blushing. ‘There’s no fooling you, is there?’ He added a smile afterwards, but Gavin’s face fell. ‘I wanted to wait until after dinner, but of course, we can discuss it now too.’ Gavin rubbed his face in frustration. ‘Phck.’ ‘Gavin? Everything alright?’ The man looked up, then blew his cheeks. ‘Yeah.’ He dropped his hands. ‘Yes, please, what did you wanted to tell me?’ ‘I really enjoy your company’, Nines begun. ‘I actually don’t want to miss any day we were together. You are a fascinating human being and I admire your way of thinking. Your humour is… cute in its own way. I just wanted to tell you that…’ The android huffed. ‘Well, I guess I’ve beaten around the bush for long enough. I love you, Gavin.’

There it was. Gavin’s dream and at the same time worst nightmare. He wanted to be happy about it, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t quite feel anything but despair. ‘Phck’, he sighed. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Nines, I… Thank you’, Gavin began. ‘I really appreciate it, but… I don’t feel like you do.’ The android swallowed. ‘Oh. Oh, err… that’s okay, it’s totally fine, I’m sorry I said anything. I-‘ ‘Nines, stop. I’m bad at this. I do love you. Romantically. I just can’t love you the same way you love me.’ Nines cocked his head inquisitively. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Does the word asexual say you something?’, Gavin whispered, feeling self-conscious about telling Nines something so personal in a space so public. ‘I’m- It’s basically not feeling sexual attraction towards someone.’ He looked up at Nines, afraid to see his disappointment. But the android was just sitting there, listening. ‘I can’t… I know someone’s beautiful, okay? Like this restaurant is nice, you look amazing, something like that. But there’s no sexy-sensor, basically. I’m not going around the city, seeing people and think I’d tap that, you understand?’

Nines nodded thoughtfully. ‘I think so. So there’s no particular feature of a person’s body you find attractive?’ ‘No’, Gavin nodded. ‘I mean, with time something could develop, but at first glance? Nah.’ ‘I’m sorry if this is intruding now’, the android began. ‘But you do have one-night stands every now and then, have you not?’ Gavin sighed. There it was. ‘Yeah, I have. Because sex is great. It feels nice and some days you simply feel the urge. But none of the persons I hooked up with I found particularly hot. They were just… people.’ ‘So you do like sex.’ ‘Yes, for phck’s sake!’

His call had startled the waiter coming over with their food, but Gavin just leaned back embarrassed, as the plates were put down and they mumbled their thanks to the waiter. ‘You had this conversation before, right?’, Nines spoke up gently as soon as the man had left them. Gavin just sighed and nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m not out to many, mostly because explaining something like that to others can be complicated. And it isn’t really worth the effort.’ ‘Then I thank you for telling me. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’m just fascinated. I thought it was an universal experience.’ He took up his fork and looked at the blue food on his plate, testing consistency. ‘Does this… Does this change anything in regard to what I told you?’ Gavin looked up from his plate. ‘What? I mean I should rather ask if that changes something for you, to be honest.’ The android shook his head. ‘No. I still love you. I mean I… To be honest I would really like to… spend the night with you? But if you don’t want that that’s… okay.’

The human sighed. ‘Okay, just to make it clear: I consider sex to be a gesture towards my partner. Like watching a movie with them I don’t know but they enjoy. It feels good and knowing your partner feels it too is… it’s nice, okay. I’m not abstinent, I just don’t find anyone attractive. That’s it.’ Nines smiled then. ‘Well it doesn’t change anything for me then. I still love you and would like to… deepen our relationship if you feel the same.’ ‘I… I would very much like that too’, Gavin smiled, unable to keep eye-contact with the android. ‘If you accept me despite what I’m missing.’ ‘You’re not-‘ ‘I am’, Gavin interrupted. ‘But it’s not a disadvantage. But I am missing something others have and that’s okay and I want to know you accept that.’ Nines blinked surprised. ‘Yes. Yes, I accept that.’

Gavin’s shoulders untensed and he finally took his first bite from the plate. The food was indeed amazing. ‘Then I’m sorry I made your date so awkward’, he chuckled. ‘Please, could you repeat what you’ve said?’ ‘What part? ‘The “I love you” part.’ Nines straightened his back and nodded. ‘I enjoy your company. You are fascinating and funny and intelligent. I wanted to tell you for a long time now. I love you, Gavin.’ Gavin smiled and took Nines’ hand in his. ‘I love you too.’

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

it was always you (falling for me) - chapter 2

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides Rating: Teen & up (for swearing) Relationships: Prinxiety, Moceit, and QPR Intrulogical (eventually this will develop into Intrulosleep!) Warnings: Language; Remus being Remus; Shakespeare fans will probably hate my interpretation(s) of the plays I reference here, if the English major friend I showed this to is anything to go by, and I’m very sorry about that 😂 Word Count: 9042

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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Summary: In a world where you and your soulmate swap dreams once a month, seven young adults enter the same college as freshmen. Each of them is wondering when they’ll find their soulmate and what that will mean for them.

Notes: Secret Santa gift for sanders-sides-fics!

Chapter 2

Roman had a problem. A person-shaped problem. Specifically, a problem shaped like his brother’s excessively pretty roommate, who seemed to take pleasure exclusively in needling Roman every chance they got.

Roman groaned, burying his face in one of the pillows on his bed.

“Hm?” his roommate, Patton, said sympathetically.

“I swear Virgil has, like, an agenda against soulmates, or something,” Roman said, rolling over and staring despairingly at the ceiling.

“Now, kiddo, I’m sure that’s not true.”

Roman lifted his head to look at Patton. “Aren’t I older than you?”

“Only by a few months,” Patton said serenely. “Spiritually, you’re my kiddo.”

“Pat, that makes no sense.”

Patton blinked up at him with a too-innocent face. “If it feels dad to you, just don’t think about it any father.”

“Oh my god.”

Patton giggled, a noise of pure delight, then circled back to Roman’s original topic. “What makes you think he’s got something against soulmates?”

“Uh, the way ze rails against them at every opportunity, for a start?” Roman sat up. “We have argued five times in the last two weeks about soulmates, and only three of them were even about Shakespeare like usual!”

“Haven’t you only known Virgil for, like, three weeks?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point.” Roman climbed down the ladder to the ground. “Also, I feel like that makes it worse?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Patton seemed amused. “You talk about them a lot, you know?”

“He’s so annoying!” Roman said defensively. “Ze gets this stupid smirk like ze knows something I don’t and he doesn’t even seem to care about constructing sound arguments half the time!” He put his laptop into his backpack.

“Going somewhere?” Patton asked.

“Yeah, Virgil and Remus invited me over to their dorm to study.”

“Oh,” Patton said, a funny sort of look on his face like he was trying not to laugh.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Patton waved him away, still smiling to himself. “Have fun studying with Virgil.”

“I will,” Roman said brightly, heading out the door.

***

“I want to go get ice cream,” Remus announced suddenly, hopping to his feet. “Who’s coming with?” It was late, almost midnight, and Roman was sitting on the floor in what had been a nice triangle with Remus and Virgil until Remus had stood. The three of them had been alternately working on homework and arguing about Disney characters.

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug, tugging their hoodie up onto their shoulders—they’d been wearing it dangling off their body, with only their wrists in the sleeves holding it on. “Let me fix my eyeliner first, though.”

Remus nodded distractedly, looking around the room and turning in a circle.

“Whatcha looking for?” Roman inquired, getting to his feet as well.

“My wallet,” Remus said, gaze still roving around. “I don’t know where I—”

“By your chapstick,” Roman said.

“Ah!” Remus dove under his desk, scrabbled on the floor, and emerged with his wallet clutched triumphantly in one hand and his chapstick in the other. “Thank you.”

“How the fuck did you know that?” Virgil asked, turning away from the mirror hung on the door with their eyeliner in their hand. They’d reapplied it to one eye, in a perfect, pointed wing; the other eye still had the only slightly less perfect, barely faded wing they’d been wearing this whole time. It matched their black lipstick and the carefully blended eyeshadow on their upper eyelids.

“He put it down there when he was telling the story about trying to collect dried gum off the street,” Roman explained. “And the chapstick was already there right next to it. So that’s how I remembered.”

Remus nodded. “I would have gotten there in a minute, probably,” he agreed.

“I still don’t understand how the fuck you knew that, but good for y’all, I guess,” Virgil said, turning back to the mirror.

“ADHD solidarity,” Roman explained.

Remus made finger guns at him, nodding. “ADHD solidarity,” he agreed.

Virgil paused halfway through drawing the other wing on. “Oh, that makes sense.” They picked up the line again, their hand perfectly steady, drawing it out to a fine point. “I thought you said you were autistic?” they added after a moment, their face holding perfectly still as they filled in the eyeliner with a practiced hand; their monolid eyelids allowed them to draw the wings of their eyeliner wide and dramatic.

“Yeah, I’m both. There are high rates of comorbidity, and also they’re both genetic, so neurodivergence runs in families,” Roman explained, the sentence rolling out of his mouth without him stumbling over the words once or having to think about it at all. “Did you know about ten percent of the population is probably ADHD?” he went on eagerly. “It’s super underdiagnosed. Especially because of race and gender biases in doctors who diagnose it, and the misconception that it’s only something children have. I only got diagnosed because Remus did when we were little, and we’re twins, so then they tested me too. Even though we aren’t identical. It’s super frequent for identical twins to both have ADHD if one of them has it, though.” Roman bounced on the balls of his feet, tapping the tip of his finger against his thumb. “I wish we were identical, I think it’d be so funny. Like, impersonating each other, and things. We could make such good video skits.”

“We make fantastic video skits already,” Remus protested.

“Okay, fair. But you know what I mean. And we could switch places for a day and see who noticed. All the stuff twins do in stories. Twins are always identical in stories, it’s so annoying, I wish there were more stories with fraternal twins.” Roman paused for a second, his mind hovering for an instant between a not-fully-realized train of thought about the gender politics of twin representation in stories and the question of what animals were most likely to have twins. He chose, almost before he was aware there was a choice, the animals question, his emotions nudging him away from the energy talking about gender representation would take up. “Do you think kittens dream?” he asked, only a second or two after he’d stopped talking in the first place.

“Yeah, probably,” Remus responded without missing a beat, likely following his train of thought. “Better question, do other animals have soulbonds, and how do they know if so?”

“Maybe it’s a scent thing,” Roman said thoughtfully.

“Ooh, like with glands or some shit?” Remus looked thoughtful. “That could make sense. I wonder—I bet there’s answers on the internet. I’m going to look this up later. Are you coming, too, by the way? To get ice cream?”

Roman thought it over. “Sure,” he agreed.

“I’m ready,” Virgil announced, capping their eyeliner and setting it down on hir desk. “Also, I got whiplash about five times just listening to that conversation.”

“Good, my chaos is overtaking another victim and soon I shall rule the world. Let’s go!” Remus led the other two out the door and started walking towards the end of campus.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Roman inquired, shoving his hands into the pockets of his red letterman jacket to keep them warm.

“There’s an ice cream shop that’s open till one in the morning about ten minutes away walking,” Remus said over his shoulder. “Logan and I found it the first weekend here.”

“You two went in search of sweets without me?” Roman put a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt,” he declared in his most dramatic voice.

“Oh, shut up, we would have gotten around to telling you about it eventually. I mean, I’m telling you right now, so.” Remus shrugged. “Virge, aren’t you cold?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty, so it’s worth it,” Virgil said, tossing their head so the long hair on the top of their undercut swished. They were wearing a distressed band tee and a black skater skirt over fishnet leggings and a pair of doc martens. It was quite chilly out, and even though they were wearing a hoodie too, Roman understood why Remus had been concerned.

“You are very pretty,” Roman told them seriously. Even aside from their clearly carefully chosen outfit, this was true. Their eyes were round and curious and a captivating shade of dark brown. Even with the boost from the platform of the shoes they were wearing, they were tiny. Roman was sure they couldn’t be more than 5’2” without the boots. The hair on top of their undercut was very long, almost down to their waist, contrasting with the closely-shaved back and sides of their head. About six inches on the ends of their hair were dyed purple. Their makeup, of course, was flawless, as was their golden-brown skin, which was just a little bit darker than Roman’s. He made a mental note to ask them about their skincare routine sometime; no matter how much care he treated his skin with, the acne on his cheeks refused to go away. It was his least favorite side effect of taking testosterone. “But you can be pretty and warm at the same time, if you want. I hate being cold. But I respect your decision to be pretty and cold if you want to,” he added quickly.

Virgil let out a slightly nervous laugh, rubbing the back of their neck. “Thanks, I think.” Their eyes widened as they looked past him. “Oh, my god, Remus, shut up!”

“What?” Roman asked, looking over at Remus, who was giving Virgil an evil grin.

“Nothing,” Virgil snapped.

“I didn’t say anything,” Remus said innocently.

“Shut up!” Virgil repeated, flipping the hood of their hoodie up and dragging it over their face.

“What’s going on?” Roman asked, confused, while Remus burst into cackles of laughter.

“Nothing!” Virgil repeated with great emphasis.

Roman let out a sigh of frustration, but Virgil seemed genuinely upset about whatever Remus had done when Roman wasn’t looking, so he dropped it. Maybe Remus would explain later.

Remus did not explain later; however, he did turn around to walk backwards after the silence had stretched on long enough to become awkward. “Is the ocean a soup? Discuss,” he commanded.

“Oh, not this again!” Roman groaned. “No, absolutely not!”

“Yes,” Virgil said, almost as soon as Roman stopped talking.

“No!” Roman stamped his foot. “That makes no sense!”

“It makes lots of sense. Explain how it’s not soup,” Virgil challenged.

The resulting argument lasted them all the way to the ice cream shop and halfway through their treats.

“Aren’t you going to take a side?” Roman demanded of Remus at last.

Remus looked up from his cone. “Oh, no, this is very entertaining for me, I could watch you two bicker all month. Please keep it up.”

“You’re a terrible person,” Roman told him, trying not to laugh.

“I never claimed to be anything else,” Remus said happily.

***

“—and that’s how you do it. It’s really easy, but it’s so fun, I could balance chemical equations for hours,” Remus said, bopping the tip of his dry-erase marker against the giant whiteboard in the library for emphasis. He and Roman and Virgil had all met up here to study; it was a sunny afternoon, and they’d gotten a nice spot by the window. The marker left a little black mark next to the diagram Remus had spent the last ten minutes drawing; he wiped the dot away with his finger. He was wearing a turtleneck with horizontal black-and-white stripes and a pair of faded jeans with paint splatters all over them and huge rips in the front that ran from his mid-thighs almost down to his ankles; he’d finished the outfit off with socks in sandals and a black felt beret. His outfit—vaguely artistic, but mostly just terrible—contrasted comically with the intensely technical pseudo-lecture on chemistry he’d just given.

Roman nodded without looking up. “I remember balancing those was fun,” he agreed. He hadn’t taken a chemistry class in a couple of years now, but Remus was majoring in it, and the best way for Remus to study was to explain it out loud, so he’d gathered Roman and Virgil in the library. They’d even been able to snag one of the coveted whiteboards. Roman was able to focus on his notes better with Remus’s animated talking in the background, and Virgil preferred quiet but was willing to put on his headphones to block out Remus’s noise, so all in all this arrangement worked out well for all three of them.

“Yes!” Remus agreed with a happy wiggle. He picked up his water bottle off the table and took a long sip. “Okay, next I have a bunch of molecules I have to memorize the structures of. Do you need anything first?” He addressed his question to both of them, but Virgil seemed pretty focused—or perhaps his music was loud enough to drown out other noises.

Roman, however, thought the question over. “Yes, actually, can you help me go over my lines for this one scene? It’s not very long.”

“Mmhm.” Remus held out his hands expectantly, and Roman handed him his script. Remus began fiddling with the dog-eared bottom corner of the page it was open to, folding it back and forth.

Roman dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts—he liked cargo shorts, partly for the shape but mostly for the pockets—and handed Remus a star-shaped fidget toy made of sequins that could be flipped back and forth. He’d rather the corner of the script didn’t get torn off by mistake.

“I think I’m off book, I just want to make sure,” he said as Remus accepted the toy and began fidgeting with it.

Remus nodded, scanning the page. “Sounds good. It’s just this one page?”

“Yeah. Ready?”

Remus nodded, and Roman launched into the scene. His character had most of the lines; it was essentially a glorified monologue. Remus interjected the two lines from other characters, using a hilarious nasally voice that made it hard for Roman to stay in character without breaking to laugh, but he successfully made it through the final line before dissolving into snickers.

“You’re word-perfect, kid,” Remus proclaimed as Roman got ahold of himself, handing him back the script.

Roman grinned. “Thank you!”

Remus nodded and took another sip of water before wiping down the whiteboard and launching into a ramble about the molecular structures he had to memorize.

Roman had just about tuned Remus out again and slipped back into the headspace where he could focus on his work when Remus broke off. “Logan!” he exclaimed, sounding delighted.

Roman looked up, and so did Virgil, pulling off hir headphones. Roman followed Remus’s gaze, and there indeed was Logan, his flat top haircut and dark academia outfit unmistakeable. He was stepping out of the stairwell that led down from the floor above, adjusting the strap of the leather messenger bag they used instead of a backpack. Even at this distance, the pins he kept on the bag were visible, neatly affixed in alternating rows on the bag’s buckle straps—a demiboy flag, an aromantic flag, an enamel pin shaped like an open book, and a handful of other pins Logan had collected from the university’s cultural centers during orientation. Roman had a few of that last category on his backpack himself; he knew he and Logan had matching land acknowledgment pins now, but he wasn’t sure if any of the other pins they’d chosen matched.

Remus darted across the wide open floor, weaving his way around a few students. “Logan! Hi!”

Logan looked up, a small smile finding its way onto his face as he saw Remus. He said something—presumably a greeting—but was too far away for Roman to hear, since he was speaking at a normal tone.

Remus seized Logan by the hand and dragged them towards Roman and Virgil. Logan laughed and said something in protest, pushing his square glasses up his wide nose as he followed Remus.

“Remus, I have to go to class,” Logan was insisting as they got close enough for Roman to hear. “Hello, Roman. Virgil.” They adjusted their already-immaculate clothing, the tendons in their thin hands flexing as they smoothed their mustard-brown cable knit sweater vest and tugged on the rolled-up sleeves of their periwinkle button down shirt.

Virgil gave a two-fingered salute. “Sup.”

“Hi Logan,” Roman said happily. “We’re studying!”

“Very nice,” Logan said, raising Remus’s hand—which was still clasping his own—and gently pressing it with their other hand. “I am always glad to see you, Remus, but I can’t stay long.”

“Okay,” Remus said. “I just wanted to say hi.” He gave Logan a quick, tight hug around the ribs before releasing them just as fast as he’d darted in.

Logan smiled again. “Hello, then. I hope your studying is going well?”

He received nods from the group, and gave them his own nod in return.

“You’ve got to go,” Remus reminded him. “You don’t like to be late.”

“True. I’ll see you later, dear.”

Remus nodded. “Wanna hang out tomorrow night?”

Logan considered this. “Maybe. I’m going to the Black Student Union meeting tomorrow evening. So it would have to be after that.”

“Okay, I can do that! I love you!”

Logan smiled. “I love you too, Rem.” They made as if to leave, then paused. “Roman, while I’m thinking of it—are you and Patton still free for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Roman confirmed. Logan and Patton had two classes together, and so together with Roman they’d formed a tight-knit little friend group very quickly; the three of them tried to make sure to meet up for lunch at least once a week.

“Wonderful. I’ll text our groupchat about it. See you then.” Logan tugged his hand out of Remus’s grip, waved, and set off at a brisk pace back towards the stairs.

***

“I’m telling you, Virgil, Oberon and Titania are a really good example of how soulmates can make it through rough patches!”

“Bullshit. They’re obviously not a metaphor for soulmates, why would the fae even have soulmates? Their story is a cautionary tale,” Virgil said languidly, lying on their back on the floor of their room.

“No!” Roman pounded his fist on the floor. “Why do you always do this?”

“Because it’s funny,” Virgil replied with a snicker.

“But you always bash on soulmates, specifically!” Roman said.

“Yeah, because I think society’s emphasis on soulbonds is dumb.” Virgil shrugged. “Anyway, if you think Oberon and Titania’s relationship is a good example of anything, I have some concerns.”

“No—no, stop! I didn’t mean it like that! They’re fae, like you said. I obviously don’t condone any of the ways they treated each other! I’m just saying that viewing them as a metaphor for soulmates makes a really interesting lens to view the other couples in the play! Right, Logan?” He turned expectantly to Logan.

“Wh—no,” Logan, who was sitting on Remus’s bed and combing their fingers through Remus’s hair, his head in their lap, responded. “You are both, objectively, wrong. Horribly so. Painfully so.”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to tell me I’m wrong about Shakespeare,” Roman countered quickly.

“Why did you ask me for my opinion, then?” Logan asked, rolling their eyes.

“I don’t know,” Roman grumbled.

“Wait, why can’t they talk to you about Shakespeare?” Virgil asked.

“Because they always win!” Roman crossed his arms.

“Oh, and I don’t?” Virgil demanded. “What am I to you, Roman? I thought we had something special here,” they went on playfully. “You make dumb arguments, I make worse ones, and then I win. I thought that meant something to you.” They pouted at him.

“That’s different!” Roman protested, stifling giggles at the mopey puppy dog eyes Virgil was sending him. “You just don’t care what I say. Logan actually refutes my arguments! It’s very humiliating!”

“I only do it because your logic is physically painful to listen to,” Logan said.

Roman crossed his arms and pointedly turned away from Logan, nose in the air. “Anyway. As I was saying. Puck’s role in all of this is really interesting, if you consider the question: are the fae supposed to be able to truly alter soulbonds, or are they only messing with feelings?”

“Dear,” Logan said plaintively, looking down at Remus, his fingers still carding through Remus’s curls.

“Hmm?” Remus responded, not opening his eyes.

“Make them stop,” Logan said beseechingly.

“Sorry fellas, you heard them. Stop torturing Logan, he’s already an English major, so he’s plenty tortured already. Or else I’ll have to dissect your spleens.” Remus wagged a finger in Roman and Virgil’s direction.

“What a terrible fate that would be,” Roman commented, flopping over to lie on the floor beside Virgil.

Seconds later, his phone buzzed; he pulled it out to see a text notification from Virgil.

Virgil: oberon sucks btw

Roman: Oh, it is ON!

Roman grinned as he sent the response, already anticipating the thrill of the argument that was about to ensue. He felt a warm thrill in his chest at Virgil’s answering chuckle—it was good to know Virgil was having fun with this too.

***

“—so I was hanging out with Virgil the other day at the library cafe, and he said The Tempest was dumb because magic solves everything.” Roman was lying on the floor of his dorm, tossing a bouncy ball up in the air and catching it over and over again. Logan was sitting at Roman’s desk, legs up and crossed on the seat of the chair as he worked on readings for an English class, half-listening to Roman’s rambling. “And that since it solved all the problems, it made no sense for Prospero to give it up. Which was completely ignoring all the bad stuff magic had done and the symbolism of him throwing it away!”

“What did Remus have to say about that?” Logan inquired with a small laugh, not looking up from the copy of Frankenstein in his hands.

“What? Oh, nothing. Remus wasn’t there.”

“Oh?” Logan blinked, glancing up from the book.

“Yeah, we were at the library getting Starbucks, we do that on Wednesdays now. Remus was in his history class, I’m pretty sure.”

“I didn’t know you and Virgil hung out together,” Logan said, raising their eyebrows.

“Oh, we don’t, we just get coffee on Wednesdays, it’s different,” Roman said.

Logan stared at him. “...What?”

“Like, we only hang out on our own time to get Starbucks and then argue about Shakespeare. It’s really fun! It’s a great system, honestly. And this way, you don’t yell at me about Shakespeare or text Remus rant essays about what you think I’m getting wrong!”

Logan looked away, a very called-out expression on his face. “You weren’t supposed to see those…”

“Oh, Remus didn’t show me, I just broke into his phone the other day and it was open to your texts,” Roman said reassuringly.

“Why would you break into—” Logan began, not seeming reassured in the slightest.

“I needed to check his calendar to see if he was available to come with me to the grocery store,” Roman explained. “You know we’re really good at guessing each other’s passcodes. He doesn’t mind, we break into each other’s phones all the time.” He paused, assessing Logan’s face, trying to gauge if their expression was upset or not. “I’m sorry I read the texts, though,” he added, just in case it had hurt their feelings. “I only saw the very end of it, it wasn't on purpose or anything. Promise.”

Logan sighed. “I know. It’s alright.” He reached across the space between them to press the back of Roman’s hand.

Roman grinned. “Only you would come up with a whole essay in a text,” he teased. “Dunno what I expected, really.”

“It wasn’t an essay,” Logan said defensively. “Technically speaking.”

“I dunno, it sure looked like if you formatted it with MLA, you could turn it in for a grade.” Roman giggled. “But hey, what do I know?”

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the doorknob rattled with the sound of keys.

Patton stepped in. “Hey! If it isn’t some of my favorite people!” he greeted the two of them with a smile. His dark, wavy hair was a little ruffled. Normally he combed it to the side, but Roman remembered it had been windy today, so Roman guessed that was responsible for the irregularity. “How are you doing?” Patton asked the two of them.

“Better now that you’re here,” Roman told him with an answering grin. “How’s your day been?” He’d noticed that Patton really liked being asked how his day had gone.

Sure enough, Patton’s smile spread a little wider. “Pretty good, thanks! I haven’t had too much to do today, which is nice. How are you doing, Logan?” He sat down on the floor beside Roman, sliding his backpack off his shoulders.

Roman immediately sat up and scooted over to lean against Patton—he was an excellent cuddler; he was tall and chubby and he ran warm, and Roman liked cuddles. He tended towards understimulation rather than overstimulation, and hugs were one of his favorite things. Patton was always happy to supply.

“I’m alright, thank you,” Logan said as Patton wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders. “A little underslept, but otherwise good.”

“Good, good. You should sleep more. Are you both busy?” Patton asked.

“No,” Roman said, because Patton always had fun ideas.

Logan pursed his lips, glancing down at the book in his hands in consideration. “I can finish this chapter later. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if either of you wanted to play a board game,” Patton said. He and Roman had each brought a couple from their homes, and together they had quite the little collection.

“Yes!” Roman agreed eagerly, breaking away from Patton and crossing to the shelf where they kept the games. “How about Clue?”

“I will decimate you both,” Logan said, deadly serious, adjusting their glasses and scooting to the floor.

“All part of the fun, Specs.” Roman pulled out the box and set it down between them. “Dibs on the red piece!”

***

“—so I told him that was utter bullshit—not in so many words, of course—and listed off the reasons why, and he simply did not seem to recognize how completely nonexistent his logic was, he just kept repeating his original points louder and louder.” Logan punctuated his rant about a classmate with hand gestures as he walked next to Roman on the sidewalk.

“I hate guys like that,” Roman said, making a face.

Logan nodded. “But I got full credit on my discussion post when I typed up my argument and I cannot imagine he got the same, based on his talking points. So.” He shrugged, clearly trying not to look too smug with himself.

“Good job!” Roman told them.

“Thank you.” Logan’s happiness was palpable. “How have—”

“Logan!” Remus’s voice shouted.

Roman looked in the direction of the noise; they were almost an entire block away still from the quad, where they’d agreed to meet Remus, but he seemed to have spotted them. He was sprinting at full speed directly towards them.

“Oh, dear,” Logan said, the exasperation in his voice belied by the grin on their face. They took a step back and braced themself, just in time.

Remus full-on tackled Logan in a hug, colliding into him at full speed. Logan stumbled back a couple of steps, but successfully avoided falling over. “Hello, Remus,” he said composedly, wrapping their arms around Remus and returning the enthusiastic hug. “How are you?”

“Much better now. I missed you,” Remus said into Logan’s shoulder. “Normal people get all weird about it when I tell them cool murder facts. You're much cooler than normal people.”

“It has been twenty-seven hours and about thirty minutes since you last saw me,” Logan informed him. “And thirteen minutes since we last texted.” They rumpled his curls, which fell messily in loose spirals about his face; they were mostly about chin length, although some of them were choppily trimmed shorter than others. Remus was very insistent about cutting his own hair. It was always mildly disastrous, but he insisted he liked it that way. He’d dyed it himself, too; he’d bleached a streak at the very front of his head and dyed it silver about a month before college started, with a surprising amount of success.

“Yeah, and I missed you.” Remus stepped back from the hug as Logan released him. “Also hi Roman, I guess.” He tossed Roman a grin.

“You are a terrible brother sometimes,” Roman informed him. “Hi.”

“Uh, I think you mean all the time,” Remus corrected him. “I’m joking,” he added. “C’mon, I got Starbucks for us! I have extra meal credits!” He seized Logan’s hand and reached invitingly for Roman’s.

Roman let Remus grab his hand, too, and his brother immediately began dragging both Roman and Logan at a slightly breakneck pace down the sidewalk. Several students dove out of their way until he dragged them to a halt by the food truck, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waiting expectantly.

Not even a moment later, the barista placed three cups on the delivery window tray and called out Remus’s name.

“Yes!” Remus pumped his fist, darted over, and picked up two of the cups—Roman recognized Remus and Logan’s go-to coffee orders, a trenta mango-dragonfruit refresher and a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew with extra ice. Roman picked up the last cup, a warm drink in a grande cup; he sniffed to check what it was even though he knew what Remus usually got him. Steamed apple juice with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top—his favorite as a kid and still one of his favorites now. He wrapped his hands around the warm cup and followed Remus and Logan over to a sunny patch on the lawn.

Remus sprawled out, taking up more space than seemed humanly possible for one person to fill; Logan tucked their legs beneath them as they sat beside Remus and began pulling out a textbook, a dog-eared novel, and a handful of pens and pencils from their messenger bag.

Roman sat so that he completed the triangle between the three of them, his legs crossed so he could lean his cup against them between sips and not worry about knocking it over.

“Thank you for the coffee, Remus,” Logan said, his cup halfway to his lips as he flipped through the worn novel.

Roman nodded in agreement, breathing in the warm cinnamon scent of the apple juice.

“Of course!” Remus said exuberantly, taking a noisy slurp of his drink.

Roman and Logan both winced slightly.

“Could you be a little quieter, there?” Logan asked mildly.

“How dare you.” Remus clutched his heart, leaning back so far Roman was surprised he didn’t lose his balance and fall over.

Logan sighed, reaching over and placing a hand over Remus’s, gripped around the edge of the cup’s lid. “At least please be careful not to splash,” he said, guiding Remus’s hand downwards until the cup came to rest on the ground. “This textbook cost rather a lot and I’d like to sell it back in a decent condition at the end of the term.”

Remus let go of the cup, leaving it to rest where it was, and leaned forward. He took Logan’s face in both of his hands and looked seriously into their eyes. “Hey. You are my best friend in the whole world and you mean everything to me. I love you and I’m so glad we’re soulmates. But I draw the line at stopping my annoying behavior for anything less than a natural disaster.” He released Logan and picked his drink back up. “I promise I won’t spill on your book, though,” he added lightly. “Roman gets no such promises.”

“You wouldn’t dare, you know I hate being sticky—” Roman began heatedly.

“Okay, okay. Jesus. You two are really conspiring to foil all my chaotic little gremlin dealings today. I’ll order an ice water to spill on you instead, will that make you happy?” Remus snickered.

Roman frowned. “If you must,” he begrudgingly agreed, since this seemed the closest thing to a compromise he was likely to get out of Remus. He suspected it might be a joke anyway, but he wasn’t sure about that and didn’t want to take any chances.

But Remus didn’t return to the food truck, so it seemed likely that it was a joke after all. Instead, he devoted himself to more noisy slurping, crossing his eyes and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re the tallest one of us,” Roman said after a moment.

“Huh?” Remus looked up at him.

“He has a point, dear,” Logan said, turning a page.

“Like yeah I know I am, but what’s the point?” Remus asked.

“You said we were foiling your chaotic little gremlin dealings,” Roman elaborated. “You’re, like, fucking… six two.”

“And a half,” Remus added. “Emotionally, I am a chaotic creature of spite who’s about three five and can sneeze fire, though.”

“That makes no sense,” Roman protested.

“Does too,” Remus responded, crossing his arms.

“It does,” Logan agreed. “For example, emotionally, I punch that one classmate in the face twice a week, but we can’t always embody what we want to be. And you, Roman—emotionally, you’re very invested in Shakespeare, but in actuality, your interpretations are painfully bad.”

“Hey. You talking about me and Shakespeare is off limits. We’ve discussed this.” Roman waved a warning finger at them.

“I still think that’s unfair and have raised a motion to reject and overturn the ban.”

“Unfortunately for you, the judge and jury are my feelings, and you hurt them, Logan. Shakespeare and I have something special. You need to stop trying to come between us like this.”

Logan glanced up from his book to give Roman a singularly unimpressed look. “You are preposterous.”

Roman beamed at him and made a heart shape with his hands, holding it up like a picture frame to look at Logan through. “But you loooooove me,” he singsonged.

Logan nodded. “This is true.”

“You’re both nerds and Shakespeare isn’t even that good,” Remus put in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’m divorcing you,” Logan said immediately.

“Noooo, come back!” Remus dramatically grasped at the air as if reaching out from afar for Logan.

“Fine.” Logan shrugged. “Then Roman’s disowning you.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”  

“He can’t disown me, he’d miss me,” Remus said confidently. “Y’all are stuck with me.” He looked very pleased with himself.

There was silence for a beat, then all three of them burst into laughter.

“I’m really glad we’re all friends,” Remus said happily, leaning back and taking another long sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed.

“I don’t know,” Logan said, holding back a smirk. “Sometimes I think about a world where I don’t have to deal with a pair of himbos every day of my life.” He maintained his faux-serious face for all of the three seconds it took both twins to start pelting him with ripped-up blades of grass, then devolved into helpless laughter again.

***

“Patton, you good? You’ve been kind of spaced out all day.”

“Huh?” Patton looked up, blinking through his round gold-rimmed glasses. “Yeah, I’m okay! Just… boy problems, I guess? Which is… it’s new.” He wrinkled his nose for a second in a face of dissatisfaction before smoothing his face back into a smile.

“Oh? Want to talk about it?” Roman asked eagerly, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands, interest definitely piqued.

“I don’t know…” Patton glanced away. “It’s complicated. And it’s probably not a big deal.”

“Patton. We are friends. The main purpose of friends is gossiping about crushes.” Roman crossed his arms. “I am offended that you would ever doubt my capacity for talking about boys in a gay way.”

“I don’t think that’s the main purpose of friendship,” Patton said, but his smile looked more genuine.

“Shush, I know that, I’m being dramatic. How about a movie night and you can spill the deets in a cozy setting with popcorn? And Logan?”

“I mean… okay,” Patton relented. “It’s probably not as exciting as you’re hoping for, though, I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense. You are perfect and so is everything you do,” Roman said absently, pulling out his phone and FaceTiming Logan.

“Roman! You’re sweet, but you know you shouldn’t go around passing out compliments that should go to you,” Patton said.

“Oh, stop,” Roman said, grinning wide.

Logan picked up on the second ring. “What do you need, Roman?”

“To see your gorgeous face, nerd. Also we’re having a movie night at me and Pat’s, attendance mandatory. Seven works, right? Pat’s having boy problems.”

Logan stared at Roman with a blank face for several beats. “And… you want me there to help… why?” he deadpanned.

“Shut up, you have a nonromantic boy toy, you’re basically qualified to help.”

“Don’t call Remus that! He’s a person, not a—wait, he’s your brother, Roman, that’s worse, that’s so weird—”

“—Anyway, I can more than handle giving Patton plenty of terrible advice on his love life,” Roman interrupted. “You’re there to tell him everything I say is a terrible idea and let me throw popcorn at you. We can watch Big Hero Six. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

Logan heaved a sigh. “Fine. But you have to put your dad’s curry powder on the popcorn.”

“What kind of man do you take me for, Logan? Of course we’ll have curry popcorn! See you at seven, love you, bye bye.” Roman blew a kiss and hung up.

After his English class, Roman grabbed a burrito from the dining hall and hurried back to the dorm, making it there at half past six. Patton was already back; he made hot chocolate while Roman microwaved popcorn and tossed it in a bowl with curry powder.

At precisely seven o'clock, there was a knock on the door; Roman let Logan in and the three of them climbed into the nest of pillows and blankets Patton had built on the bottom bunk, pushing aside the bi pride flag and the Puerto Rican flag Patton had hung like curtains around his bunk.

“So,” Roman said eagerly as the movie’s opening bot fight began on the laptop screen, turning to Patton and bouncing (Logan grabbed the popcorn bowl out of Roman’s lap as it jostled), “spill!”

Patton squirmed under the attention, a half-hidden smile ghosting its way onto his face. “I don’t know… what should I talk about?”

“What’s he like?” Roman asked. “How do you know him? Is he cute? Have you got his number?”

“Oh, wow—that’s a lot.” Patton giggled nervously.

“Okay, start with is he cute?”

“He’s really cute,” Patton allowed, biting back another smile. “He’s got all these freckles all over his face and neck and hands, and his eyebrows are really expressive—he gets this really serious face when he’s thinking, and it’s… really pretty.”

“Eyes?” Roman demanded. “How are his eyes?”

“I mean, they’re eyes? They’re this kind of greyish blueish color. I don’t know, I try not to stare, especially when he’s looking, you know?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Roman relented. “What else? Is he fashionable?”

“I—not really, honestly. He mostly just wears longsleeve tees and jeans. Sometimes beanies. He has these really cute yellow converse that he always wears, though. He, like—oh, gosh, I’m not sure how to describe it. He’s not, like, fashionable like you asked, but he—kind of the way he holds himself makes it seem like he is? He wears his clothes well, I think is maybe the phrase.”

Roman nodded. “Alright. Do you know whether or not he’s queer?”

Patton hesitated. “Um… I’m not sure. I don’t know either way. But he was the only one that laughed at a bi pun I made one time, and he wore a pink shirt and yellow belt with faded jeans one time, which I might be reading way too much into but it sure looked like a sneaky pastel pan flag.”

Roman nodded very seriously, taking mental notes. “All good signs. Anything else? Any stickers on his laptop or water bottle? Pins on his backpack?”

Patton shook his head. “They’re, like, super empty. He doesn’t really do anything that tells people about his personality. His outfits are usually really plain, like I said, and everything. It’s weird, because he’s got such a distinct personality, and he really doesn’t seem like someone who’d leave his stuff unpersonalized. It’s like he’s afraid of something, or something.” Patton was silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But then, he seems kind of nervous around me in general.” He looked away, a worried expression crossing his face.

“Maybe he likes you back?” Roman suggested. “Plenty of people get nervous around their crushes.”

Patton shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think I know what the thing worrying him is. I just… don’t know how to talk about it with him.”

“You do realize you’re being super vague here, right?” Roman queried; he couldn’t parse what on earth Patton meant by that, but his curiosity was piqued.

“I know.” Patton bit his lip. “I, um, don’t want to talk about it yet, I think. It’s complicated. I don’t think it would be fair to him to discuss it with others.”

“Oh.” Roman did his best to hide his disappointment. “Okay, that’s fine. How do you know him?”

His attempt to change the subject didn’t seem to ease Patton’s discomfort, based on the way his shoulders drew up even closer to his ears. “...Kind of from a class we’re in together?” he answered after a long pause. “We’re partners on a group project.”

“Sounds like a meet cute to me,” Roman said, searching again for new lines of questioning that would hopefully not be as upsetting for mysterious and unknown reasons. “What do you like about him?”

Patton lit up. “He’s really sweet, actually. It takes some looking to see it, because he’s got a lot of walls up, but you can tell he’s really thoughtful and observant, and he’s really warming up to me, I think—he’s being much nicer to me than most people, and I’m starting to think he really means it and wants to be nice to me just to be nice, not because he feels like he has to.”

“Well, of course he’d be nice to you, you’re like the sweetest person I’ve met in my life,” Roman said, feeling bewildered by this line of reasoning.

“No, I—oh, nevermind. I was worried he wasn’t genuinely being nice for a while, but I’m really starting to think he means it, is my point. Anyway, he’s really smart—he’s so good at like, you know, synthesizing stuff? He’s really good at finding the information we need and paraphrasing it in a way that works really well for our project. I have such a hard time wording things how I want, you know? So it’s awesome that he can do that so well. And he’s good at puns, too! He tries not to laugh, but he scrunches his nose up and gets really red cheeks so you can always tell, it’s really cute. And one time I was trying to explain to our professor he was wrong about something, but I was kind of having trouble getting my point across, the teacher didn’t seem to get it, and he just spoke up and pointed out exactly where the misunderstanding was. It was really nice and reassuring of him. He just seems really protective of people he cares about, you know?”

“He sounds great, Pat!” Roman agreed.

Patton nodded, giving an excited little wiggle.

The brief silence was broken by a quiet crunching noise. Roman looked to his other side to see Logan, eyes fixed on the movie, who had worked their way through a solid third of the popcorn.

“Oh, you fiend!” Roman cried, seizing the popcorn bowl back since he was sitting in the middle.

“What?” Logan defended himself exasperatedly. “You two seemed to be handling that just fine! I like this movie! Neither of you asked for the popcorn back! What did I do?”

“...Okay, technically nothing,” Roman admitted after considering this defense and finding it to be unfortunately solid and covering all of Logan’s bases. God, they knew him too well. “But we are supposed to be doing this as a group.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Patton, he’s probably queer. You should ask him out and see what happens. Happy now?”

“Wh—how are you saying that with such confidence?” Roman demanded.

“Which part?”

“That he’s queer. I agree Patton should definitely ask him out at the first opportunity, we just hadn’t gotten to that yet.”

“I mean, I can’t say for sure, but being the only person in a classroom to react to a queer joke is pretty telling.” Logan shrugged. “Any other relevant details?”

Patton shrugged. “I don’t know. Janus—that’s the guy—he doesn’t talk about himself very much—”

“Hold on, Janus?” Logan interrupted. “Lanky white guy? Constantly acts like he’s just swallowed a lemon? Kind of a twink? Looks incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin? Growing his hair out?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Patton admitted. “You could maybe be nicer about him, though.”

“I’m sure I could,” Logan said, seeming unconcerned. “Yeah, I know him. He’s queer, I’m pretty sure he’s compatible with you. No idea if he’d be interested, or frankly what you see in him, but go for it.”

“Wh—how do you know him?” Roman demanded. “I feel left out now!”

“We met at the Aspec—at a pride center identity group. Also he’s Remus’s roommate’s best friend. They’re practically attached at the hip. I’m surprised you haven’t met him yet, with how much you hang out over there lately.”

Virgil had a best friend? A best friend here, at college? That was news. Surprisingly unpleasant news—Roman wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t like he disliked Virgil to the point of not wanting them to have friends! Of course not! Frankly, he was glad to hear the tiny emo had a social life. It just kind of stung that this was the first time he was hearing about someone evidently so important to Virgil. And not even from hir own mouth. He’d kind of thought they were closer than that. That he’d have learned basic facts about what and who was important to Virgil by now. Learning otherwise was a remarkably unpleasant experience.

Logan took another handful of popcorn out of the bowl in Roman’s hands, startling Roman out of his thoughts.

“Stop!” he yelped. “I want some, too!”

“You have more if this bag runs out,” Logan pointed out. “I have some extra popcorn in my dorm too. And you’ve been holding out on me with your curry powder.” He popped another handful into his mouth and crossed his arms.

“If you just asked my parents, you could have some of your own! They’d even give you the recipe! Now share with Patton!” Roman leaned himself and the popcorn bowl away from Logan, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t mind,” Patton put in. “It’s very tasty, but I’m not as attached as Logan is.”

“No, you have to take some, he’s been hogging it,” Roman insisted.

“I don’t mind!” Patton insisted. Roman shoved the bowl in his face, and he relented and took a handful.

“Let Logan have some more now,” Patton said, gently pushing the bowl back into Roman’s lap.

“Thank you,” Logan said primly when Roman relented.

“You’re welcome!” Patton said with an easy smile. The smile fell away after a moment, though, and he looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure about asking Janus out, though,” he said hesitantly.

“Why not?” Roman asked. “You really sound interested in him! What have you got to lose?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Patton said, worrying the edge of a blanket between his fingers. “I’m not sure if he’d be comfortable with it. I don’t—I don’t know.” He looked away. “I’ll figure it out, I guess.” He looked back at Roman and Logan, forcing a smile onto his face. “Thank you both for the advice, though. And for listening.”

“Patton—” Roman began, concerned.

Patton shook his head. “Let’s just watch the movie now, okay? Really. Thank you. But I’m good for now. Can I have some more popcorn?”

Logan wordlessly held out the bowl and Roman allowed himself to be mostly distracted by Big Hero Six. He felt better when Patton leaned on his shoulder, a genuine smile on his face as he watched Fred goofing around on the screen. Whatever the issue Patton was dealing with was, at least it didn’t seem big enough to keep bothering him after putting it aside.

***

“So,” Remus said with an evil grin.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to know,” Roman said. They were both sprawled on Remus’s bed, sharing earbuds as Remus swiped through TikTok.

“It’s nothing!” Remus protested.

Roman gave him a suspicious look. Remus’s face was entirely too innocent.

“I was just wondering when you’re going to get your shit together and do something about your crush on Virgil,” Remus said, the evil grin back.

“My what?” Roman did a double take. “I—I don’t have a crush on Virgil, we barely even get along!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. The tension between you two is so high I’m surprised something hasn’t snapped yet. And you definitely have a crush.”

“I do not!” Roman grabbed Remus’s pillow and threw it in his brother’s face. “We’re barely even friends!”

Remus shoved the pillow aside and rested his chin on top of it, making a skeptical face.

“I mean, are they really pretty? Sure. But that’s not a crush,” Roman insisted.

“Mmhm. Okay. So what makes it not a crush?” Remus pressed.

“I—well—” Roman stammered, flustered by the very question.

“Uh-huh.”

“No!” Roman snapped, voice cracking. “I just—that’s a hard question to answer right off the bat! How do you define a crush? It’s just not, okay?”

“I mean, I define crush as, like…” Remus paused. “Huh. Okay. You have a point, or whatever. I guess… a crush is, like—huh. No. Okay. You’re distracting me. I’m teasing you about your crush that you totally do have, we are not veering off topic.”

“I do not have a crush on Virgil! I just want to be his friend! Okay?”

Remus made a skeptical face. “Sure, whatever you say. I’m still going to tease you about it.”

“Oh, whenever you find that third soulmate, I am getting so much revenge.”

“Eh.” Remus shrugged. “Like, go for it, but I dunno if you’ll have that much time to tease me about it before we get together. You know? Like, think about me and Logan.”

“Logan knew you were soulmates for two and a half years before you got togeth—”

“Yeah, because he’s smart, but I didn’t figure it out until thirty minutes before we got together. Or like. Thirty minutes before we started talking about it. You know this.”

Roman crossed his arms. This was unfortunately a very good point; the day Remus had figured out that Logan was one of his soulmates had been a pretty memorable one even for Roman. Logan and the twins had grown up next door to each other, and had been best friends since elementary school. One Saturday morning near the end of their senior year of high school, Remus had bolted upright in bed while Roman was brushing his teeth, blurted out something nigh incomprehensible, and taken off at a sprint; he’d slammed the front door behind himself on his way out and he hadn’t answered any of Roman’s texts for two hours, only to show up by sprinting back into the house and screaming at the top of his lungs “Logan and I are soulmates!”

This had prompted a lot of confused questioning from Roman. He’d learned that yes, Remus and Logan were definitely soulmates; Logan had figured it out in sophomore year but hadn’t said anything; Remus had only just figured it out; yes, Logan was still aromantic; yes, Remus was still allo; no, neither of them felt like either of these facts was an issue; and Remus was very happy.

“We’re going on, like, a date, but platonic,” Remus had announced to him that day, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m really excited, this is so cool! Who’d have thought, right? Logan and me!”

Roman had smiled and tried hard to just be happy for Remus and Logan, and not jealous of them. Particularly about two months later, when they’d made their relationship official and become queerplatonic partners. He was happy for them! He was!

But Remus had never cared that much about finding his soulmates. Roman had. It didn’t feel fair. Remus, who didn’t care, got two soulmates, and one of them was literally his childhood best friend. Roman, who’d been daydreaming about finding his soulmate since he was too little to remember, and had learned just about everything there was to know about how soulbonds worked, seemed to have just the usual one soulmate. His soulbond hadn’t even developed until he was sixteen—admittedly, that was an expected side effect of the puberty blockers he’d been on for a few years before he’d been approved for T, but he was still salty about it. And when his soulbond finally had developed and he’d started tuning into his soulmate’s dreams, they were so creepy! He wasn’t sure he’d had a single souldream so far that wasn’t a nightmare. They ruined his sleep for the night whenever he got one. It was irritating and frustrating and all sorts of bad things; he’d actually cried over it a couple of times, not that anyone but Remus knew.

But as annoying as it was for him, it had to be worse for his poor soulmate—if these nightmares were what was making it through the soulbond, he could only imagine how much worse their nightly sleep must be.

He hoped he’d find them soon. He was ready for a proper romance, thank you very much!

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- part 30

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1522

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N:  I don’t know where this part came out from and it wasn’t what I intended but it did its job. I’m having a hard time trying to finish this story because I love it so much! Gah, next part will most likely be heartbreaking if I can make myself to write it. 

poison & wine masterlist

For the first time since the first night you spent together, you had managed to wake up before Loki. He always woke first having duties bound as a royal prince to manage but today was different. He was sleeping in and it allowed you the chance to truly look at him. Not as a God or a royal prince, but as the man who owned your heart. 

Loki looked younger in his sleep. Probably because every waking moment he spent it scowling and that aged him quite a bit. You refrain from laughing at the image in your mind as you return your gaze on him.  

His long raven hair was still nicely brushed back, not a single strand out of place, and you chalked it up to his abundance use of magic. 

Prince Loki of Asgard could never look unruly, not even in his sleep. 

You shift a bit closer to him allowing the closer perspective to reveal details you were unable to see from afar. 

His eyelashes were dark and long resting on the top of his cheeks and they fluttered as he woke. You can’t help but gasp at being caught only feeding Loki’s amusement as he smirked down at you.

Loki opens his mouth to speak but is unable to as persistent knocking comes from the bedroom doors. 

You’re not allowed a chance to get out of bed when the doors open to reveal your handmaidens led by a very determined Frigga. 

“We tried to stop her…” Datya begins to explain poorly. “...but she’s the Queen.” 

Loki and you scramble out of bed. You’re quick to grab your robe and place it on hoping to look decent enough.

“Mother, what are you…” 

“You missed lunch and dinner,” she interrupts. “You’ve also banned anyone from entering your room. You can’t avoid the world forever.” 

Her glare strays to you easing into a calming and sympathetic stare. 

“You can’t hide her here forever.” 

“He wasn’t hiding me,” you assure her. You glance over at him and he sighs unsure of what explanation could be offered since your reclusion. “We needed some time alone considering the abrupt news of our engagement.”

“Right,” Frigga answers, recalling your curious handmaidens’ attention were still on you. “Well, we have a long day ahead so we must get a move on.” 

With a clap of her hands, your handmaidens are quick to move to the closet. You watch as they pull your gowns and the rest of your belongings out.

“What’s going on?” Loki asks her. 

“There’s a celebration to be had,” Frigga answers. “Asgard hasn’t seen a royal engagement since… well, since your father and I were engaged. There is much to do in such a short amount of time.” 

Iana is quick to take a hold of you and starts to lead you out of the room. You shoot a look of alarm to Loki only to see him trying to refrain from laughing. You glare at him in response and he simply raises his hands in defense. 

“Get dressed, son,” Frigga chastises him. “We’ve got a busy day ahead.” 

Iana was working on your hair while Lynn and Datya argued about what dress you should wear. You couldn’t care less about the decision seeing as there were more pressing concerns in your mind. 

Your time spent with Loki had been stagnant. The usual charm and ease was replaced with coldness and stiffness. Loki had spent the rest of your time together trying to formulate a more detailed plan and you listened. 

All you did was listen to his voice as he raved on about his plan and the back-up plan and the plan that would follow after that one. 

He was detailed and very organized and with the passion he spoke, it just further solidified that Loki was not only going to be a great king but was already a great man. 

“What are you thinking about, dear?” Iana quietly asks you. 

“Hmm, oh,” you whisper, not having noticed Iana’s ever-watchful stare. “I well… would it be cliche to say I’m thinking about Loki?”

Iana cracks a small smile. 

“He has you very enamored.”

“Is it that obvious?” you ask with a laugh. 

“There is a certain youthful glow to a woman in love,” Iana answers as she pins your hair back. “It fits you quite nicely.” 

You smile in response not knowing what else you could do. You couldn’t confess your troubles to her. Your handmaidens had snitched on you to the Allfather reminding you that you were truly on your own here. 

Your only confidant had been blocked from seeing you as you got dressed and his mother had a lot of things to manage for the day of celebration that laid ahead of you. 

“Have you talked about your mortality issue yet?” Iana asks. “You mentioned before you hadn’t breached that topic with him yet.” 

You swallow at the question. 

You hadn’t thought of that when it came to him. He did promise he would be at your side for the centuries to come, but you couldn’t offer him the same. 

“No, uh… it's a bit of a grim topic to discuss,” you answer. “But I have a few centuries left and I’ll be more than happy to spend them with him.” 

Iana smiles tightly at your response and simply taps on your shoulders. 

“I’m done with your hair,” she tells you. “Lynn and Datya can help you get dressed. If it’s fine with you, I would like to aid the Allmother with the preparations.” 

“Yes, you’re dismissed,” you tell her. “I’ll see you at the festivities.” 

Iana bows her head before taking her leave. Her presence quickly being replaced by Lynn and Datya who finally settled on a dress. 

Your handmaidens had left a while ago having done their best work once again. You seem to glow even more than the first night they helped you get ready and you thanked them for their work again before being left on your own. 

For once, you weren’t being forced to wear another green gown to a royal event and yet you can’t help but miss them when you realized what Lynn and Datya had decided to choose. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror unable to accept the image that welcomed you. 

You had so long ago foregone the thought of you in a white gown and yet here you were wearing one. 

The lacing and the white silk…

It was the dress of your dreams and you hadn’t even realized you even had such dreams to begin with. 

You were living some sort of twisted fairy tale.

 A royal wedding and a prince too, but the love within the tale was the true work of fiction. 

A knock on your door disrupts the dark turn your thoughts had strayed to shifting them into a new direction altogether. 

Loki. 

You take a deep breath and try to ease your fast pacing heart at the thought of your prince waiting for you right outside. You smooth down the skirt of your gown as the doors open to reveal Loki waiting for you. 

“Come, we must make a…” 

Loki doesn’t finish his sentence as he stares at you in speechless wonder.

“...You look radiant,” he stammers out. “Absolutely stunning.” 

You warm at his compliments and try to keep your mind grounded. 

“You were saying something?” 

“Right,” Loki nods at the reminder. “We have a quick stop to make before joining the celebrations.” 

He offers your arm for him to take and you happily take it. He starts to quickly lead you away from the banquet room into an unknown area of the palace. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

“It’s a surprise,” Loki answers. “A gift too.” 

“A gift?” 

Loki doesn’t offer an answer as he stops in front of a beautifully carved wooden door. He motions for you to open it and so you do. 

The door creaks as it slides open revealing a dimly lit office. The lights grow brighter as you step inside making you notice the array of maps and trinkets laying around. 

“What is this?” you ask, turning to Loki for an explanation. “What is all of this?” 

Loki offers you a small smile.

“It’s your father’s office,” he answers. “All of his belongings, his travel logs, his journals… They’re stored here.” 

“Loki…” you whisper unsure of what else to say. 

He simply smiles in response as you approach your father’s desk and start to look through the logs scattered around. 

“We’ve got a few minutes to spare before we have to make an appearance,” Loki tells you. “But take all the time that you need.” 

“I don’t even know where to begin in thanking you, Loki.” 

“You’re already doing it, Y/N,” Loki responds. “By being by my side through it all.” 

He brushes back a strand of your hair and leaves it resting on your cheek. 

“You deserve to get what you want too,” Loki whispers. “You deserve to get everything you wish for.” 

You smile up at him and the urge to kiss him intensifies with the way he’s looking at you in return. The previous tension was gone, returning you both to the peaceful tranquility that you had before the news of your engagement broke.

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals​ @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420@pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15​ @oneprolificqueen​ @nikki-who-likes-coffee​ @fandomrelative​ @nikki419ninja​ @onedollarduck​ @help-i-need-a-social-life​ @ephemeraljade​ @catsladen @amwolowicz​ @captainmarvelnerd​ @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi​ @defunctcherrybomb​

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie​ @moonlightprime

[jowritesthingss]

of being known (and loved)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): LoSleep (Logic | Logan + Sleep | Remy)

Rating: Teen (for very mild swearing and innuendo)

Content Warning(s): Logan’s coming to terms with being quoiro, so there are very vague sexual mentions/innuendo, just FYI, but nothing graphic

Length: 4,539 words

Brief Summary: Part of the @sanderssides-secretsanta gift exchange! This is my gift as Secret Santa to the lovely @demigodbookdragon ! Features the requested prompt of Logan coming out to his partner(s) as ace and/or quoiromantic, as well as one of the requested pairings—LoSleep!

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

*

Logan Sanders. Logic to one Thomas Sanders, voice in his head and vision in his view, informing and (according to Roman) annoying twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, twelve months a year, so it goes. And yet.

Logan Sanders. Who is Logan Sanders, really?

If there exists anyone out there who knows the answer to this question, Logan would really like to know, because he himself isn’t quite certain. Logan Sanders. Logic. Voice of reason. The smart one. The nerd. And yet.

Who is Logan Sanders?

And who could ever truly know Logan Sanders, if he doesn’t even know himself?

-

Logan Sanders enjoys order. He likes to know where things begin and end, to keep neat and tidy and color within the lines. He likes to present a clean image, to stay organized and orderly and crisp and clean, even as the other sides grow chaotic and wild and confusing around him.

Logan enjoys the chaos now too, he thinks, in small, manageable doses. Certainly in Remy-sized doses.

-

The other sides are...nice.

They’ve long since reached a point of not-quite-resolution, of almost-understanding, of mutual cooperation. And Logan is...he’s working through some things. But then again, so are the others.

They all slip, certainly—himself included—and there’s a long way for them to go yet. But the sides have the rest of Thomas’ life ahead to get there, and they have each other to metaphorically (and occasionally literally) lean on.

All the same, it’s just easier to talk to Remy, sometimes.

Technically, as Sleep, Remy isn’t actually one of the sides. He’s somehow still there inside the Mindscape, and no one is particularly sure why.

Remy simply appeared one day out of nowhere, scaring a young Virgil to the point that he refused to come down off the fridge for hours. He was known only as his function—“Sleep”—for a period of time before deciding out of the blue that his name would be Remy.

Logan has been puzzling this occurrence over for decades, but has long since given up, acknowledging that it will likely forever remain a mystery, just like what it is, precisely, that exists at the bottom of the ocean. (Further, the existence of any of them is very much in defiance of any science Logan has ever heard of, really, so he isn’t exactly one that can judge.)

Remy is a bit of a metaphorical wild card. He goes where he wishes, does what he wants. He’ll disappear for weeks on end, follow them around nonstop for days...he goes on ridiculous coffee binges before swearing Starbucks refreshers are the only “valid” drink...he lures Thomas into napping on the couch but refuses to cooperate at bedtime...Logan isn’t entirely sure why Remy does what he does beyond simple whimsy, and it puzzles him incessantly.

However much Remy’s behavior might confuse him, it’s...actually quite pleasant to have him around. Random disruptions and interruptions generally are not something that Logan delights in, but aside from Janus, Remy is the only other side with an appreciation for sarcasm, and his presence as Logan works is...enjoyable tolerable.

Then there is the veritable fact that, unlike the others, Remy always listens to Logan.

Logan knows that the others mean well. And they do—they have since assured him that they truly do. But they get so carried away in their excitement sometimes that having someone a bit more grounded like Remy around to converse with is nice. And in turn, Logan always makes sure to listen to Remy. As loath as he is to admit possession of any “feelings”, he knows how it can feel to be ignored.

One of Remy’s favorite things to discuss is Mindscape gossip. Logan doesn’t understand the appeal of gossip, but he’s sure that Remy doesn’t understand the appeal of the history of the telescope, either, so he listens.

Today, the “hot” topic seems to be Patton and Remus. Or, rather—the relationship between Patton and Remus.

“I’m not kidding you, gurl!” Remy flops backwards in Logan’s bed. Logan refrains from telling him not to muss up the carefully-made bed; it hasn’t worked the past forty-seven times he’s asked, and he doubts it would work today. “I legit walked in on them when I came home last night.”

“You ‘walked in on them’?” Logan asks neutrally from his desk, fondly brushing aside Remy’s improper usage of ‘legit’. He turns the page, looks at Thomas’ schedule for January, winces. Double-booked on January eighth, and in the middle of a pandemic, of all things? How ever did he allow that to slip past him? “Doing what, exactly?”

“They weren’t doing the do, if that’s what you’re asking about,” Remy responds.

“‘The do’,” Logan quotes, puzzled momentarily before the realization hits him. “Oh, you mean intercourse, don’t you?” He pauses in his work to make a note in the margins about updating his vocabulary cards.

“Duh.” Remy pauses to roll over and sip at his drink. He’s on one of his tea detoxes; Logan predicts it won’t last more than a few days this time. “But they were, like, snuggling. On the couch. And watching a romantic movie.”

That makes Logan pause. “Remus, watching a romantic movie?” He pauses and glances over at Remy briefly before continuing to write again. “That does seem a fair amount out of character.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Remy exclaims. “Remus wouldn’t subject himself to something like that willingly. No way. That’s why I think they’re dating.”

“Mm-hmm,” Logan agrees absent-mindedly as the events of January twenty-first catch his attention. Then he pauses. Computes.

Logan abruptly drops his pen and swivels around in his chair. “Apologies. Did I hear you correctly, Remy? You believe Patton and Remus are,” he struggles to get the word out momentarily, “are dating?”

“Yeppers!” Remy nods. He slurps noisily at his tea before popping it back on Logan’s bedside table. Rolling to hang his torso upside down off the side of Logan’s bed, he says, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen anything hinting at those two throwing goo-goo eyes at each other, but that pretty much cements it in my mind.”

“‘Goo-goo eyes’?” Logan frowns as the realization further sinks in. Dating. Patton and Remus. Dating? “Wait, am I to understand that sides can date?”

“Like, of course.” Remy’s face is starting to go red as blood rushes down to it. “Did you miss that whole awkward fling between snakeyboi and prissy mister prince back in college? God, seeing them interacting for the first time in years was so awkward.” He snickers loudly. “Glad they didn’t call me to the stand back during that whole dumb courtroom thing.”

“I...no, I don’t have any recollection of any such thing,” Logan murmurs. He briefly wracks his memories, blue pen scratching crisply against the page in front of him, and comes up empty.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s probably a good thing, babe.” Remy slides off the bed and onto the floor then, hissing as blood starts to rush away from his head again. “Honestly, whole thing was a train wreck to watch. Patton and Remus are pretty cute, though. I guess opposites really do attract, huh?”

“Ah...yes, I suppose so,” Logan murmurs, but as Remy launches into a play-by-play detailing the embarrassment on Remus’ face and Patton’s sheer terror at being the one busted for once, he’s already tuning the other out.

Dating. The other sides date. Which means, of course, that they...feel things. Well—yes, the sides are capable of individual emotions. That has been established prior, Logan knows. But this means that they feel love things.

Sides can feel love?

That question, however, goes unasked and unanswered, as Remy drones on about how flustered Remus had been when he was caught being “lovey-dovey” and Logan’s schedule blurs out in front of his face.

Unasked. Unanswered. Yet still it lingers in the back of Logan’s mind as he finally convinces Remy to let them sleep for the night, as he lies awake in bed staring at the blinking red numbers of his alarm clock:

Sides can feel love?

-

Logan Sanders enjoys understanding. He loves learning—loves looking up to the stars, down at the ground, in front at the path ahead of them all, even back at where they’ve come from sometimes. He loves to be known to know. Yes, Logan Sanders likes understanding.

This entire debacle, however? Logan does not understand.

-

Can the sides feel love?

The question follows Logan for weeks as he goes about his days, carefully maintaining Thomas’ schedule and gently bullying the other sides into doing their tasks and taking care of themselves. He refuses to let it interfere with his job, but in the moments he pauses to take a breath, the question is there to steal his breath away again.

Love. Love, love, love. The one thing Logan absolutely loathes—or, if he were to be honest with himself (and as much as he hates the truth, he tries to avoid the practice of denying truth), the one thing that Logan is absolutely terrified of.

He’s known for a while that the others love him, and that he (fortunate or unfortunate as it may be) does love the others in his own way. But that’s easy, and it’s obvious. It’s a purely familial thing—or so Logan had thought.

Then Patton calls a family meeting and awkwardly informs them that he and Remus are an item now. And Roman is groaning over-exaggeratedly, Virgil is hissing, Janus seems all too unsurprised, Remy is gleefully vindicated, Emile looks away while Remus licks Patton’s cheek for all to see, and Logan?

Logan has his answer.

So the other sides—or, at least, some of them—do, in fact, experience some sort of romantic or sexual connection to others. So the sides can feel love, then.

Only—what about Logan? What does he...what does he feel?

Logan metaphorically looks into himself. He isn’t sure what he (again, metaphorically) finds.

As much as he might struggle to understand figurative language, Logan isn’t completely unaware of it. To make full usage of such metaphors, it all seems a confusing jumble of darkness and confusion and occasional swirls of odd colors.

What are those sorts of attraction even supposed to feel like? he puzzles as he sits on the couch beside Patton and Remus, a thick tome about astronomy perched in his lap as he takes in exactly none of the words on the page it’s opened to. He’s always assumed that, as sides, they wouldn’t feel such human emotions, or then again, as Thomas’ sides they would echo his sexual orientation.

But Logan...Logan feels...nothing. Right?

Or, well. Patton and Roman have been very adamant about how love comes in all different forms, and it makes logical sense. Familial love, romantic, platonic, and so the list goes on. And there’s no use in denying that Logan certainly feels things. Logan can’t always recognize it, but he’s trying now. He’s trying to figure it out.

All the same, he still hasn’t felt anything in particular towards Thomas’ past relations—not any love-related feelings, at least—but then again, they were Thomas’ partners, not his own. Logan has never himself felt anything. He feels nothing.

Or does he?

There is something that he feels in there, Logan knows. He knows he loves the others platonically, regardless of how little he says it aloud. And then there’s Remy, of course.

Goodness, Remy. Reluctant as he may be to admit it aloud or even to himself, Logan knows he loves Remy, with his smirk and his snark and his ridiculous leather jacket and his odd yet enlightening ways of using modern slang.

So Logan does love. Somehow. In some way. But he’s never thought to feel anything romantic; can he feel anything romantic? Will he even know when he feels it?

And there’s a lurking thought—likely irrational, Logan reasons, even as his mind tries to convince him otherwise—what even is the purpose of feeling anything romantic? What is the point? Logan steers clear of Roman’s romance novels, but he picks up tidbits from everything Thomas reads. Is there any use of potentially-romantic feelings?

It might be nice, he thinks as Remus drags Patton into the kitchen to bake something that will probably not end up edible. Romantic relations are often the pinnacle of any and all relationships in the eyes of society, for one thing. And while the amount of closeness and understanding conveyed between partners seems daunting, it seems as though it could be somewhat relieving as well.

But Logan’s views on romance mean very little if he has never felt anything of the romantic sort, do they?

Sighing, Logan abruptly shuts his book and stands to walk upstairs to his room. At this point the only thing he’s doing is confusing himself, and that won’t do him any good.

All the same, still the thoughts linger, even as he forces himself into more actively productive tasks for the rest of the day.

Logan feels nothing. Or he feels something. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t enjoy not knowing.

-

Logan enjoys simplicity and complexity in equal measure. He takes pleasure in the simplicity of a black coffee every morning and a honeyed chamomile tea before bed—in the complexity of a full, well-organized schedule or an alluring mystery novel.

Love, for all it ought be simple, is a complexity that Logan has always struggled to understand in any and all forms. And to his utter chagrin, it seems romanticism and sexuality are no different.

-

It all comes to a head one dreary, drizzly afternoon in the Mindscape. (Logan wishes the “drizzly” part weren’t literal, but alas, Roman and Remus’ experimentation in the Imagination went wrong somehow, and now tiny rain clouds hover above every single room and hallway in the Mindscape.)

All things considered, it hasn’t been a great day for productivity—which means that it of course hasn’t been a great day for Logan, either.

Stress has been piling up from internal emotional struggles alongside external scheduling issues. It is to the point that Logan—and he isn’t a fan of flowery metaphors and figurative language—all Logan can think to do is compare the roiling in his mind to a brewing storm, rain falling within his mind as it pours down and soaks his clothing and skin within the Mindscape.

Logan is pacing about his room—doing his best to “wear a path into the floor”, he thinks the saying goes—when Remy bursts in, dressed in an obnoxiously pink raincoat and squeaky polka dot rain boots.

“Oh, thank god. Sanctuary.” Remy very nearly throws himself onto Logan’s canopy bed upon noticing that it is miraculously still dry. The tarpaulin Logan and Virgil wrangled up over it earlier is somehow still holding up; Logan has no idea how and isn’t in the mood to question a spot of good luck.

“Aight, who pissed Roman off this time?” Remy asks

“Surprisingly enough, no one,” Logan answers before realizing that Remy is dripping all over his bed wet. “Please take care to dry yourself off before getting on my bed.”

Remy huffs but complies, unceremoniously stripping off his outer garments. He wriggles his eyebrows at Logan while he tosses his boots over the side of the bed. “Damn. If you wanted me to undress, all you had to do is ask, babe.”

“I—um,” Logan says eloquently. He awkwardly pauses mid-pace before jerkily continuing a moment later. Remy says things like that all the time. Is Remy flirting? Is he not? Does he mean it? Does he not? Logan wants to know, but one isn’t supposed to just flat-out ask these sorts of questions, are they?

“Why don’t you join me where it’s dry, gurl?” Remy scoots over and pats the spot next to him. “C’mon. I’ll even, like, move over and give you some room. So gracious of me, right?”

The corners of Logan’s mouth unconsciously quirk slightly upwards, and he ceases pacing to head over to the bed.

“Uh-uh, gurl,” Remy shoos him away, and Logan’s eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. Had he not just said—

“Strip,” Remy says, and Logan’s mind goes blank in a momentary haze of confusion and panic.

“I—what,” he stammers, and his head feels light and fuzzy.

Remy sees the look of panic in his eyes, and his expression softens slightly. “Logan. If I can’t be wet on the bed, neither can you, babe.”

“Ah,” Logan says faintly. He moves over towards his wardrobe and almost mechanically pulls out a pair of his pajamas. He manages to get them out and over to the bed before they get too wet, where he sits on the edge and quickly shucks off his usual day attire of jeans, a collared shirt, and a crisp and calming blue necktie.

Logan keeps his back carefully turned as he changes. It’s ridiculous that such a thing feels odd now; they all are roughly the same physically, and it isn’t as though they haven’t changed in front of each other multiple times. But all the same, something still feels off this time.

Clothed in pajamas, Logan debates attempting to get his sopping day clothes into the laundry hamper, looks up at the gray little clouds still crowding the ceiling, gives up. He leaves them in a little dripping pile on the floor by his bed before turning to crawl up to the headboard where Remy lounges, leaving a tiny space on the left side of the bed for Logan to weasel his way into.

“Don’t be shy, gurl. We can huddle for warmth and all that jazz.” Remy holds out his arms invitingly, and it takes a moment before it registers in Logan’s mind that he’s offering a hug. “Unless you don’t want to, ’course.”

“I don’t think—” Logan starts before cutting himself off abruptly. He pauses, sucks in a tiny breath. “I do not think I am amenable to a hug at the moment.”

“That’s chill,” Remy assures. He adjusts his position on the bed, allowing Logan space to sit comfortably without touching him. Then he reaches up and drags his sunglasses down off his face, looking carefully at Logan with a searching gaze. “Hey. You good? You’ve been acting a little weird lately, but you’re, like, especially weird today.”

Ever the teacher, ever the educator, ever the answerer of questions, Logan wants to answer. He does. He just isn’t sure that he should.

Logan quietly sits and gets himself comfortable (“criss cross applesauce”, he’s never been able to quite break the silly elementary school habit). Then....

“I am...confused, I supposed,” he finally admits, and for a five word sentence, it is surprisingly difficult to get the words out. But Remy always listens. He’ll listen now—when it matters—correct?

“What about?” Remy asks, leaning back against the headboard and popping his sunglasses back on again, masking his expression.

“I—are you flirting with me?” Logan bursts out abruptly. To hell with his uncertainties—he has to know. He’s itching, twitching to know, to understand. “Have you—is that what this is? Is that why you’re always ‘hanging’ with me?”

“Is that what this has been about?” Remy laughs, but it isn’t malicious, Logan doesn’t think. “About time, TBH. I thought you’d never notice”

“I didn’t notice,” Logan says. “Well—I did notice, eventually, but I didn’t...I don’t—”

“Look, if you don’t feel the same way, that’s...fine,” Remy says, and his voice sounds different, devoid of his usual mischievous tone. Somber, almost. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, babe. I do, like, genuinely just enjoy being around you, you know?”

“But why?” Logan asks, and something in his voice cracks. Inwardly he curses, hoping that Remy won’t here.

“There’s something bigger going on here, isn’t there?” Remy shifts next to him in the bed, and suddenly he’s leaning closer to Logan. The sunglasses are off again, and Remy stares into Logan’s wide eyes with that more solemn expression again.

“I don’t—” Logan cuts himself off again. He looks up towards the tarp hanging from the corners of his four-poster bed, attempting to organize his thoughts the best he can before speaking this time. It proves to be a difficult task; his thoughts are all jumbled and clumped together in a hopelessly confused mess. He just doesn’t understand. Logan likes to understand, but for once he doesn’t. Emotions have never been his strong suit, and these emotions are proving stubbornly elusive.

Logan clears his throat before speaking next. “Up until you brought up the relationship between Remus and Patton, I had never realized that we as sides could feel romantic or sexual attraction independent of Thomas,” he explains. Unconsciously his left hand goes up to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “It had...never occurred to me.”

“Oh.”

Logan waits for Remy to continue even as he stolidly refuses to turn and look at the other. When Remy says nothing else, he haltingly continues.

“As you and the others no doubt know, I often struggle at identifying emotions,” Logan continues. “Now that I am aware the others have a capacity for other attractions, I have attempted to find them within myself, and I...can’t seem to find them.”

“So you’re aromantic then?” Remy asks, his voice sounding neutral.

“No!” Logan rushes out before pausing. “I, ah. Perhaps? I’m afraid that I don’t know. I do not know what it is that I am feeling.”

“But you feel something.”

“Yes, I....” Logan finally finds it within himself to turn and face Remy. “I do indeed feel something. I feel many somethings. Towards you. But I’m afraid I don’t know what it is, and that...” he swallows, “...that isn’t fair to you.”

Remy is silent, his face impassive, and immediately Logan worries that he’s ruined everything about their relationship, whatever it is, whatever it may be.

Over the years Logan has grown to quite enjoy the lack of pressure and expectancy between the two of them whenever they spend time together, and the snarky conversation between the two of them has been quite refreshing. Not to mention the rare occasions that they do actually touch, or converse more seriously. Is he about to lose all that? Has Logan ruined all of that?

“...Do you think that you might be, like, quoiromantic or something?” Remy asks slowly.

Logan blinks confusedly behind his glasses. “I’m sorry?”

“Quoiromantic. It’s under the aromantic umbrella,” Remy explains. He frowns, tapping a finger over his lips contemplatively. “Hmm. Roman might be better at explaining this, since he’s actually aro. I’m demisexual, but I’ll admit I don’t know as much about the aromantic spectrum as maybe I should.”

“Quoiromantic,” Logan sounds out. “What does that terminology mean, exactly?”

“It’s like....” Remy frowns. “Mm. It’s like, you don’t really know how to tell the difference between romantic and platonic feelings, I think. You’ll wanna double check with Roman on that though, babe.”

“I...yes. That...does sound accurate,” Logan realizes aloud. “Quoiromantic.”

It’s like a metaphorical puzzle piece clicking into place inside his brain. Quoiromantic. Not being able to distinguish between romantic and platonic feelings...that certainly sounds a lot like what Logan has been puzzling over for the past few weeks.

“Quoiromantic,” Logan tests the word. “I would need to perform more extensive research, and perhaps examine my...emotions more before I can arrive at a proper conclusion, but...yes, that sounds...correct. That sounds....”

Good. It sounds good.

However.

Ice prickles through Logan again. He looks back at Remy. “But what would all of this mean in regard to the two of us and our relations?”

“What do you want it to mean?” Remy asks simply.

There comes the darkness again, rushing, followed by swirled colors of confusion.

“I...still don’t know,” Logan admits.

“That’s fine.” Remy shrugs. He looks at Logan, and with his sunglasses still off, Logan can see the earnestness and—fondness, is that fondness—in his bright brown eyes. “We can figure it out as we go. D’you wanna just, like, keep chilling like we’ve been doing?”

Logan licks his lips, adjusts his glasses again even though he really doesn’t need to. “...Maybe with some more hugs now?” he cautiously requests. “And with, ah...I believe it is called ‘cuddling’?”

“Lit. I’m down if you are.” Remy grins, flings himself back and out on the bed, looking not unlike a starfish as he does so. “Get in here then, babe. Can I still call you babe?”

Logan waits until he’s nestled into Remy’s side to respond. “Certainly,” he murmurs into Remy’s side, and Remy hugs him tighter. And goodness, it’s so warm and nice there on the bed with Remy that he can’t help but wonder why they hadn’t done this much sooner.

So warm and nice...that is, until the tarpaulin laden down with rainwater above his bed finally gives in to the weight.

The thing splashes down on the two of them, soaking them and causing a shrieking Remy to drag Logan out of the room in search of an umbrella and a dry towel. Even then it is still kind of nice, if a bit soggy and much colder, and Logan has to bite back a smile as Remy curses and leads him to go tell off Roman and Remus...holding Logan’s hand all the while.

And perhaps...perhaps Logan doesn’t exactly know how he feels on a larger scale. But he knows how he feels in the given moment—content. And that’s all he needs to know for now.

-

Logan Sanders enjoys solitude plenty, but he has more recently discovered enjoyment for the company of the others as well. All things considered, all confusions included, he enjoys it. He loves quiet nights of coexistence, and maybe he loves Remy romantically. Or maybe he doesn’t. He’s not quite sure, but he doesn’t need to be—not yet, perhaps not ever, even. They’ll work it out.

Most importantly, he thinks, Logan Sanders enjoys the company of himself, whoever “himself” might be or become.

-

Logan Sanders. Logic to one Thomas Sanders, voice in his head and vision in his view, informing and (according to Roman) annoying twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, twelve months a year, so it goes. And yet.

Logan Sanders. Who is Logan Sanders, really?

If there exists anyone out there who knows the answer to this question, Logan still would like to know, because he still isn’t quite certain. Logan Sanders. Logic. Voice of reason. The smart one. The nerd. And yet.

Who is Logan Sanders?

Well. He is himself. Regardless of who or how he loves, Logan is himself. He is known, he is loved, he is himself. And he has his network of fellow sides and of Thomas and of Remy to help him, to know him, as he learns and knows and understands understands more about who Logan Sanders really is.

It’s a journey he’ll enjoy not being alone for.

Fin

*

Happy belated holidays! I decided to try participating in two Sanders Sides Secret Santa fic exchanges this year, and this is the product of the first of the two. I am SO thrilled to reveal myself as Avie’s Secret Santa! I hope that everyone enjoys this fic—especially you, Avie! <3 Goodness knows I had fun getting to write it for you :D

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[midrashic]

F, N, W and P for the fandom ask meme please :3

F / THE LONGEST YOU’VE BEEN IN A FANDOM hhhhhh. this question has multiple potential answers. usually i stay active in a fandom anywhere from a few months to a few years. i'm going to invoke the gift of prophecy i apparently used to predict the destiel confession and say x-men, because it will take me about a decade to write my 90 cherik ideas. but, if the future doesn't count:

"longest" as in the most amount of time has passed between getting into it and now, and i've never renounced it: every now and then i still miss my very first fandom, which was digimon frontier!

"longest" as in the most amount of time spent, total, being active in a fandom: probably supernatural? my stints in spn fandom tend to be brief but very intense, and i've had three of those periods in the last decade, so altogether that probably adds up to a few years, though not consecutively. 😂 i've been mainly a lurker, mainly a meta-writer, and mainly a fic writer at various times, then i disappear for a few months and lose track of canon and friends, swallowed up by schoolwork, but i always come back (appropriately). if i'm not careful i might start making graphics in the wake of the supernatural renaissance.

"longest" as in the longest time i was actively creating content for a fandom, even if i was writing other things simultaneously: probably james bond, writing from october 2018 to march 2020! near the end there i was slipping into x-men fandom, and i feel like in 2019 i had brief flirtations with a few other fandoms, but for over a year the 00q slack chat was my fandom home. 💛 if you're interested in james bond fandom, @mi6-cafe is one of the most centralized, friendly, and well-organized environments i've ever been in.

N / THREE THINGS YOU WISH YOU SAW MORE can all three be identity porn? seriously, in a superhero capes & villains fandom it is tragic that identity porn is not a more prominent trope. rarely am i ever "look to the mcu" for anything but. look to the mcu!!!

okay, after some thought, i've come up with:

more identity porn

more in-universe media / publicity & outsider pov!

more cherik generally. not proportionally, out of respect for my rare pair friends, but in terms of absolute numbers, it's a pretty small fandom. fans of olde, come back! new fans, join in the fun before the mcu introduces mutants and ruins everything!

W / FIVE FAVORITE SHIPS & RESPECTIVE KINKS 😅 i'm only going to do "five favorite ships" because kink is an off-limits topic on this blog:

erik lehnsherr x charles xavier (mostly xmcu but it's bled over into related fandoms)

steve rogers x tony stark (all universes)

arthur pendragon x merlin (bbc merlin)

alexander hamilton x aaron burr (hamilton)

and of course, the one, the only fudou yuusei x izayoi aki (faithshipping, yu-gi-oh! 5d's)

P / INVENT A RANDOM AU AS IF I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS--fine. fine! what is something i will never, ever write? hmm, maybe a fic that is half kidfic, half adventure fic? it's the last summer of elementary school, and erik lehnsherr is bored, bored, bored. his sister ruth is his guardian & the lighthouse keeper of a small town that would already think he was strange even if they didn't know what he could do with the coins he keeps in his pocket. this was originally going to be a story about a treasure map, but now i think erik breaks into the abandoned library (under renovation! the sign has read for twenty years) and discovers a magic book room, outside of time. the librarian is stern but their apprentice, charles, takes a shine to erik. charles & erik spend time together; the magic book room is the only place where growing up doesn't seem to chafe at erik. but what is THE SECRET OF THE MAGIC BOOK ROOM? & can he hang on to this friendship when it's already improbable to begin with?

[ the meme in question ]

[snowdice]

Logan’s 25 Step Plan to Ask a Boy Out (Relabeled; Refiled Series)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters: Logan, Patton, my self insert again, oops Lia(OC)

Summary:

“No! Logan look,” she said. “He likes you and you like him. You don’t need a list or a plan or schematics for this. Just walk up to him and ask him out before you hesitate so much that he thinks you don’t like him anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that something that can happen.”

“Oh god, this is hopeless.”

How is Logan so good at, but simultaneously so bad at this?

This is a one-shot dealing with events set before my story Sometimes Labels Fail set a few months after The Things We Never Mentioned.

Notes: Superhero AU (doesn’t matter for this one... again), Logan being dumb but it the sweetest way possible.

This was supposed to come out later this week, but the mini fic I was writing to release today ended up... not being a mini fic. So, I shuffled around my release plans a bit and you get this now!

It was almost 3am and Logan was still in his office. He really should just go home. There was no way he and Lia were going to be able to solve this problem tonight. Lia wasn’t even looking at the problem on the chalkboard anymore, instead she had pressed the chalk against the board longways and was turning it slowly to make a fan shape on the board.

Logan took a drink of his room temperature coffee. “We could try integrating it.”

“No.”

“You’re probably right.” Logan tilted his head back and closed his eyes pretending to be deep in thought, but really he just let his brain drift. “Lia,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask your advice on something not related to math.”

“Fucking please do.”

“It’s about Patton.”

She didn’t even pause. “My advice is, ask him out.”

Logan paused and opened his eyes to look at her. “Er well… Yes.”

She suddenly looked more awake than she had in hours. “No really? Yes! It’s about time!”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Your enthusiasm about my romantic interests is absurd… but useful in this specific case.”

She sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap like a particularly interested school child during story time. “Please continue.”

“I have decided that I would like to pursue a romantic relationship with Patton, and I am currently researching the best strategy to convince him of my adequacy as a prospective partner.”

“Research?” Lia asked. “Oh god, please tell me you didn’t made a list.”

“I am simply inquiring after your advice concerning rather you believe Patton would be more inclined to understand love language in poetry or flowers.”

“Logan you don’t need to prove your ‘adequacy’ or whatever. Just ask him out.”

“Certainly,” Logan said. “Flowers or poetry.”

“Logan you’re not listening,” Lia complained.

“I assure you I am. I’m even taking notes.” He turned the paper around for her to see.

“‘Lia does not seem to have an opinion on flowers or poetry. Seems to suggest a bold approach,’ Logan you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He sat back and flipped back a few pages in the notebook. “I have interviewed many people on the topic but seeing as you have actually met Patton in person, I thought your perspective would be useful despite the certain ridicule that would come from the question.”

“Logan please, please tell me you didn’t make a list.”

Logan didn’t reply. He had. He had made a list. He’d done more than just make a list. He’d created a whole new file designation specifically for Patton and Patton related things. He now had a light blue binder which contained the list as well as the drafts and research notes on matching light blue paper as well as a picture Patton had doodled on a napkin to give to him. What else was he supposed to do?

Over the past couple of months, he’d done research in the form of interviews as well as non-fiction and fiction reading, drafted the list, done more research, and edited the list. It still wasn’t good enough. He was missing something. He knew he was missing something, but he couldn’t figure it out. He was hoping Lia would be more helpful.

Clearly, he was mistaken as she just groaned. “Logan…”

“Never mind.”

“No! Logan look,” she said. “He likes you and you like him. You don’t need a list or a plan or schematics for this. Just walk up to him and ask him out before you hesitate so much that he thinks you don’t like him anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that something that can happen.”

“Oh god, this is hopeless.”

“I was unaware of the possibility of a time limit on this assignment.”

“That’s not. No. That’s not what I’m saying Logan. Please don’t freak out. This isn’t homework!”

“I’m not freaking out Lia,” he said calmly even though his mind was racing.

“Logan, I know that look,” Lia said, “that’s the Logan’s pretending he’s okay, but he’s actually about to go and break down in a closet look.”

Logan waved her off and gathered up his bag. “Thank you for your input; you have given me a lot to think about.”

“No, please stop thinking!”

“I must go.”

 Logan had meant to finish editing his list the night before but had fallen asleep almost immediately after getting home from the office. He woke at around 10am with a sore neck. He looked at the list. He should switch task 7 and 8 he decided. He wrote out one more copy of the list with the edit and then stared at the list again. There were 25 list items the last one being to ask Patton on a date. It wasn’t perfect, but… perhaps it was good enough. He bit his lip. Some of the tasks would take more effort, but luckily Logan had already started working on preparations for the third step which was to express interests in things the subject found important. The first two steps were to express a desire to spend time with the subject and demonstrate an ability to notice the subject’s likes and dislikes. With the preparation he had done, he was certain he could get through the first three steps today.

Decided, he jumped to his feet. Patton often came to ‘The Hideout’ at around 11:30am for lunch on these days. If he moved fast, he might be able to catch him before-hand and ask him if he’d like to have lunch with him.

…

He should go take a shower and brush his teeth first.

After cleaning himself up and picking out one of his nicer casual outfits, he headed to the hospital. He wasn’t sure where to go, so he just headed to the admission area for the hospital emergency room. “Hello,” Logan said to the receptionist. “I was wondering if Patton Sanders has left for lunch yet.” The man behind the counter blinked at him. “He’s a surgeon here.”

“I know who he is,” he replied slowly. “I’ll um, go get someone to check.”

Logan nodded and stepped away from the counter. The receptionist walked away and then returned after a moment.

A few minutes later, Patton walked up to the reception desk from the other side looking rather confused. He spoke briefly to the receptionist who gestured to him. Patton turned, lighting up a bit when his eyes fell on him, though he still looked a bit confused. “Logan,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Logan stepped back up to the reception desk. “I was wondering if you would like to have lunch. I know you usually go to ‘The Hideout’ and we end up eating together anyway, but you don’t always, and I wanted to intentionally make plans with you. It doesn’t have to be at ‘The Hideout’ either. Of course, only if you aren’t busy and you want to.”

“I do,” Patton said. “I do want to, uh, but,” he glanced behind himself back into the ER. “We’ve been pretty busy, and I don’t think I’ll be able to take a long enough lunch to go out. I was just going to grab a sandwich in the cafeteria.”

“That’s fine,” Logan said. “We can make plans for another day.”

Patton bit his lip. “You can join me in the cafeteria if you want,” he offered. “I’ll um, only have 15 minutes though and the food isn’t great.”

“15 minutes is fine,” Logan replied.

He smiled brightly at that. “Give me five minutes,” he requested.

“Of course,” Logan said. “I’ll just sit over there.” Patton dashed off. It was closer to 10 minutes, but Logan didn’t mind even when the receptionist kept giving him looks he couldn’t understand or when a few nurses stopped by to peer at him curiously from over the counter.

Patton was still wearing the doctor’s coat when he came back to the waiting room area. He smiled when he saw Logan and grabbed his arm to guide him to the elevator. The cafeteria was on the top floor of the hospital. Patton warned him off of getting the spaghetti and he ended up with a grilled cheese sandwich and soup while Patton just purchased a premade cold cut sandwich from one of the refrigerators.

The cafeteria was crowded at this time of day, but Patton directed him to a more secluded part of it. His eyes kept flashing at the clock, but he still smiled at Logan.

“It bought you a brownie,” Logan said pushing it at him. “I’m not sure of its quality compared to the ones at “The Hideout,” but I know it is your favorite dessert so hopefully it suffices.

He took the saran wrapped dessert with an almost startled expression. “Thank you,” he said and then looked back up at Logan. “It’s good to see you. I-I’ve had a stressful morning and was sad I wouldn’t be able to go out for lunch today. Thanks for being willing to eat down here with me.”

“I’m glad I decided to come today then. Thanks, are not necessary. I enjoy talking with you no matter the environment.”

A bit of a blush bloomed on Patton’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “What would you like to talk about then?” he asked.

“How about,” Logan began, “antibody diversity and histocompatibility systems.”

A strange look crossed Patton’s face. “Did... Logan did you look up my research papers?”

“I,” he didn’t know why he felt compelled to blush. “Yes, I did. You don’t have a background in mathematics or physics so I thought I would investigate your interests so we could have something to talk about. They were very well written.”

A pause. “You read my research papers.”

“Yes,” he said. “There was a lot of terminology I had to look up, but I believe I have enough of a working knowledge to hold a conversation.”

“You,” he stopped and looked at Logan with an intense but achingly tender expression that figuratively stole Logan’s breath. It lasted for a long moment and Logan felt trapped by his gaze in the best way possible. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” Logan replied breathlessly without even a thought. Patton gave him a dazzling smile and bit his lip, looking away slightly. Logan’s brain restarted once he wasn’t held captive by that strange look in Patton’s eye. Wait, wait, he’d had a plan! He’d just ruined the plan!

“So then,” Patton said somewhat bashful, “what would you want to do on the date.”

Logan scrambled to mentally scratch off 22 list items until he found the ideas he’d come up with for once he’d procured a date. It wasn’t an edited list yet, but at least it was something. He was glad he planned so far in advance. “Midtown park perhaps,” Logan suggested. “There is a small place that serves pasta and an ice cream shop nearby. We could have dinner and then walk through the park. You’ve mentioned that you enjoy ravioli and the restaurant I’m suggesting is well known for the dish according to three articles in two different newspapers in the last 18 months.”

Patton titled his head with a small smile. “You’ve put some thought into this haven’t you?” he asked.

“I…” Logan said, “tend to be a planner.”

Patton reached over to place his hand on Logan’s. “I’m glad,” he said. Logan turned his hand over so their fingers could lace together. They only had 7 minutes to eat once they remembered their food and it was quite bland, but Logan would surely never regret it.

Thanks for reading!

And with that, we are done with the prequel fics that had to come out before multi-chapter prequel! The fic Gaps in His Files will start releasing next week. It’s 14 chapters.

[skeetlehand]

HI!!!!! I have been tagged™™™™ by @gheysnakelady and so here are my Hot Opinions!! :D

who is your favourite member on the smp?

I mean, i have SEVERAL faves: awesamdude, eret, wilbur (rip), techno and phil - I’ll watch sometimes, tubbo and tommy, but if you’re going by who I watch th

when did you first start watching the smp and what made you get into it?

Oh, it was thanks to the sudden influx of dream smp animatics all over my youtube home page - and tbh, they were all pretty good! and so, i was like: ???!!! and started watching and now i religiously check the dsmp tag for plot updates so i guess that’s where we’re at rn… haha…

what is your favourite part about watching the smp?

Just watching these creators make these amazing stories+narrative - it’s free tv! i am entertained! even just watching them interact, this large community of a variety of streamers/youtubers, in the most diverse topics (not all of them are really minecraft-centered, but they are all great!). The idea of showcasing underrated creators in a platform where they all have the opporunity to shine, is just a wholesome idea tbh

what piece of cursed lore is your favourite?

…………. the toe…………. 

who is your favourite duo on the smp?

Miss the ol’ tubbo n tommy dynamic! But i do enjoy techno and ranboo - they’re hilarious, too.

… Niki and Jack give me Stress… i try to think about them like: team rocket! it works! almost! i try not to think about them murdering children on purpose and more like a little evil duo who cause problems and miss. please-

who are your comfort streamers?

I like to watch awesamdude (he’s great!!! <3) bbh and tubbo, when I want some nice times where I might play minecraft myself... or just relax

who is your favourite character?

mexican dream, no sweat. tubbo and tommy tie for second second place, and back when elections were a thing, so was Big Q (he still is! he says the most brutal things these days but also ,,,, stream me dude pleas-).

who do you think is the best actor (s) on the smp?

A LOT OF PEOPLE OKAY LET ME ELABORATE ON A FEW:

- schlatt. evil president. wilbur. chekov’s gun but tragic. do i need to say more.

- bad is actually really good! and terrifying! surprisingly! because he’s.,,. he’s supposed to be one of my comfort streamers.... you should check out his eggpire!!! egg for the egg god

- tommy is good at subtleties, for someone who isn’t very... subtle... yknow? I was surprised by the AMOUNT of detail that went into the exile arc - and he played it adequately

who on the smp would you like to be best friends with?

ajgLJHGdljhagjJHGJHLGDS you can’t ask me that!!! they all seem like cool people and id like to meet them but also i am a mess so hhhhh

what are your favourite quotes said on the smp?

i have a lot here too but here are just some that I can think of rn haha:

connor’s whole: “you’re not a bad person, and I hope you find what you’re looking for” had me BAWLING aaa

tommy’s dialogue with dream during their battle was good, but when 

a) tommy asks tubbo: “but what am I with out you?” and tubbo responds: “yourself.” I CRIED AAAA

b) tommy said: “Hey Dream, Dream, kill me.” because he knew dream wouldn’t, because he knew why dream wouldn’t - CHILLS

which part of the smp made you feel the saddest?

- ... pogtopia...

- Wilbur/ghostbur (out of character? in character? i don’t know which’d be worse, actually) admitting that he only wanted to make tommy president so he could blow it up seconds later

- .... tommy’s exile....

- A lot of tommy’s interactions with Techno have me kinda... :( ... you know? Like, the pit, the manberg vs. pogtopia war, doomsday - it feels like they keep shouting the same lines at each other, but neither of them really hear nor understand what the other is saying. Expecially doomsday - techno siding with dream, predictable but also hurtful, kind of. I can see why - but also techno was the closest to learning what had happened over the exile, and yet, the farthest from understanding it.

- doomsday was equally frustrating, hopeless, and depressing tbh

which part of the smp made you feel the happiest?

A LOT OF THINGS: but here are just the ones on the top of my head

- Quackity killing Schlatt and leaving manberg like: ✌️😠✌️

- When Tommy finally realized that dream was just. manipulating him. YOU GO funky exile child, LEAVE!!! 

- PUNZ coming in to save the day with: “you should’ve paid me more”???? YES YES YES

- Sam giving tommy little tasks to build the hotel?? wholesome. Acknowledging tommy’s been through a lot, abnd being one of the few people to know most of the exile story that tommy still won’t tell anyone about outright? 😭 (and i am looking AWAY from the possibility that this is just for profit, nonononono, not in MY line of sight-)

be honest, who do you simp for? (ayo if anyone says tommy or tubbo i will 🔪)

....schlatt (who ironically, was somewhat my introduction into the smp), but only cause he was a TERRIFYINGLY good actor, and he sounds EXACTLY like what id imagine an evil president would sound like 😳 what can i say, i like my voices...? jkashdlhfgal closest ill get to simping anyway so all of you can just take this and go, go elsewhere-

what’s your favorite stream?

Hmm... one of the chaos ones? kjahdlkg i can’t decide...

what’s your least favorite stream?

The butcher army stream. I mean, it was good I loved the dialogue and set up... but like... story-wise, butcher army didn’t accomplish anything in the end, their existence was as volatile as the person they hunted and tbh nothing was gained from it, just lost and made worse. Hot opinion though, so take it with caution.

what’s something about the smp fandom that makes you sad?

Hmm... A somewhat common point: sometimes people can be really critical about characters, but like, not in a good way - just straight up bashing. I get disliking a character but it makes me :( when i don’t see reason for it. Or bashing someone’s opinion of a character. Look, we’re all interpreters here, but like.... cmon.... someone might just have a different view of a character and that’s fine! 

for example: not a big fan of c!phil as a father. Some interpretations say he’s not a father because phil never said he was. Some might say he was an okay dad, and some might say tommy was never his son. all of these opinions are valid. another one of my opinions: tommy’s “punishments” were injust, some might agree with the idea that they were blown out of proportion and he didn’t really learn anything from them, some might disagree and say he got what he deserved. all of these opinions are valid -but on my end, maybe not the ones where people go: “aww man, c!tommy should’ve died cause he’s so annoying, and he totally deserved it.” did we watch the same arcs, buddies on that end???? are you okay????

Just, i get hating a character, but it bums me out when i see someone just straight up say “this character should die. cause they suck” - why though? story-wise, how would that play out? what

ANYWAY THIS IS ALL MY OPINION DON’T TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY PLEASE

what’s something about the smp fandom that makes you happy?

Yall are great!! I love how much we’ve created - art, animatics, writing -all of you <3 <3 <3 and also all the discussion about the story, the characters, the interactions - I’ve found a community in some groups and honestly it’s just *chef kiss* great!!! yall are super cool and awesome and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!!

anyway, for the spread: i tag - @territorialufo, @an-inspired-eternity and @n-ugg... don’t feel pressured to do this but if you guys want 😳