#i don't know him very well sowwy Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[piscoyt]

hihi could i please request a r0hkx?

little guy delivery 👩‍🔧

he's explaining how the one shot works :3

[diaryofageekgirl]

Cross-posting my meta/ranting from the Helluva Boss subreddit. Originally posted June 22, 2024 (here):

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I love both Stolas and Blitzø. I'm super invested in this relationship. Both of them made mistakes, but both of them are also coming from places of trauma and previous fucked up interpersonal relationships. That being said, I don't really feel the need to point out how Blitzø fucked up, because so much of the fandom is so biased towards Stolas that everyone is already well aware of that part of the problem. I'm also very aware of the fact that Stolas has grown significantly as a character, but sometimes people in the audience forget the difference between what WE know, and what the CHARACTERS know. Now that that's out of the way...

Oh my god, THANK YOU. There was one particular line in Apology Tour that stuck out to me, especially because Blitzø's reaction wasn't what I hoped it would be.

Stolas: "I don't look down on you! How many times do I ha- when have I ever?!"

Oh, I don't know dude, maybe the entire first season?!

Episode 1: refers to Blitzø as "my little imp" during the phone call (using his bottom-of-the-hierarchy species as a cute pet name is..... bad. It's bad). Also just fully ignores the fact that Blitzø tells him that it's not a good time, that he doesn't understand what he's saying (more than once!) and clearly just agrees to the deal in order to deal with the more pressing issue of being shot at.

Episode 2: CONSTANTLY flirts with Blitzø using incredibly sexual language throughout the episode, even when Blitzø repeatedly tells him that he doesn't want to be flirted with while he's working. (That's not even going into how he completely ignores Octavia's emotions/reactions to what's going on around her and just focuses on himself and what he thinks is a good idea in the moment. That's two for two on episodes where his stunning lack of self-awareness shines through).

Isn't in episode 3 or 4. Though I will take a second to acknowledge one line in episode 3 - when Blitzø charges into the room and challenges Verosika and her crew, one of the succubi says "Is this little imp boy starting a demon duel?" Yet another example of imps being treated as lesser by other demons.

Episode 5: The constant heavy-handed flirting in public, again, even though Blitzø repeatedly tells him not to, again. On top of that, there's the "itty bitty imps like yourself" comment that he makes to Blitzø while in bed, and not even a minute later, tells him in cutesy UWU baby talk that he's "sowwy his cwients wiw have to wait" - not taking Blitzø or his work seriously. And, of course, we get Striker telling Blitzø that Stolas treats him like a plaything.....

Episode 6: ......aaaaaand the very next episode has Stolas literally calling Blitzø his "impish little plaything". Side note, but I feel like most discussions about Stolitz's dynamic and the imbalance present in it focuses on this line in particular, but not the rest of his behaviour throughout the whole first season. He is constantly making aggressively sexual comments, oftentimes right after being asked or told not to by Blitzø, sometimes after being told more than once.

Episode 7, he's actually fine. Hiding his face when Ozzie singles him out isn't great, but he had just been publicly embarrassed, and if you watch in the background, he does get up from the table (likely about to try to help Blitzø) right at the end of Verosika's bit, before he's interrupted by Asmodeus. And while I'm certain he really did just want to "talk, or watch a movie, or cuddle", I can also see how easy it would be for Blitzø to interpret that as him asking to Netflix and Chill, as it were.

(Also, not a major thing, but having a little plush imp doll as a kid (as seen in S2E1) feels.....really weird, to me? Like I know most posts on SocMed and reactions on YT just see it as cute, and I'm probably reading too much into it, and I know that IRL toy dolls and stuffed dolls of people are a common thing, but just the idea of a prince having a plush doll of a low-class citizen feels really bad. A literal plaything, if you will.)

Season 2, Episode 2: Not much, but even though they had a tiny bit of a fight (if you can even call it that) after Ozzie's, and even though they haven't been communicating super well, and even though he's concerned about finding Octavia, Stolas still finds an opportunity to make a sexual comment towards Blitzø.

Season 2, Episode 4: Ohhhhhhhhhh my god, I never even used to be mad about this, but the way that it got brought up in Apology Tour made me pissed. Stolas now getting upset about Blitzø not coming to rescue him when Striker kidnapped him? Telling him that he "couldn't even be bothered to come help me"? Fuck. Off. With. That. As a father of a daughter himself, you'd think that Stolas would be sympathetic to the fact that Blitzø was trying to help out his own daughter in that scene, especially considering that he had to wait 5 fucking years for a mandatory medical procedure. Of fucking course he's not going to skip out on that! And just the way he responds to that:

Stolas: Oh, ha, ha. Well, I do agree that is very important...But, I-

(and then he's cut off by Striker). I urge anyone and everyone to go rewatch that bit of the episode, because his tone of voice is just so dismissive. Like, "yes, yes, that's nice, now drop everything and come rescue me, which is more important". And that's before he even realizes that he's in serious danger!!!

Like, I'm sorry, but where the fuck does he get off getting mad at Blitzø for "always making it about sex"? Blitzø has only ever reacted to the sexual advances that Stolas was putting out - even from the very first hook-up, Stolas just assumed that Blitzø was there to seduce him, and Blitzø just went along with it as a way to distract him while he stole the book. He agreed to the transactional fucking in episode 1 while he was being shot at and was trying to get Stolas off his back. He's expressed annoyance towards Stolas' sexual advances in episodes 2 and 5 of season 1. And now suddenly it's Blitzø that makes it all about sex?!

And what do you mean, "How many times do I ha-" Have to what, buddy? Tell him that you see him as an equal? You haven't done that yet. Tell him that you love him? You did that whole conversation in pretty much the exact wrong order and shut down when he didn't react like you imagined in your head. Tell him that you think highly of him? You haven't done that. Not directly to him, not where he could hear, not before the end of that argument, right before forcibly teleporting him away from you, which, y'know, just reinforces Blitzø's earlier comment about treating him like one of his butlers, and how he "can't just dismiss [him]."

He may not have ever actively viewed Blitzø as inferior to him, but there's a LOT of internalized classism going on that I'm not sure he's even aware of.

(continued in a later comment):

One thing I'd like to add to all of 👆 that: I mentioned a bit about other people in Hell talking down to imps, but one thing I forgot to talk about is how Stolas himself views imps that aren't Blitzø. Quick list (entirely from memory):

Refers to Millie and Moxxie as "you littler ones" in Loo-Loo Land

Refers to I.M.P. collectively as "you little creatures" in Truth Seekers

The generally condescending and dismissive way he talks to the imps of the Wrath Ring in Harvest Moon Festival - if I'm remembering correctly, he also refers to them as little! Like I get it, he's crazy tall, but we all know that's not the only way to interpret that comment.

3.5 Since Stolas (and a big chunk of the fandom) went ahead and compared Blitzø's comments to Striker's, I'm gonna do the same to him! Those comments are so reminiscent of Striker saying "you little things ain't worth the clean-up" to Moxxie and Millie, also from Harvest Moon Festival.

4. Picking up, forcefully squeezing, and swinging around his imp butler while he was mad during his phone call with Stella in Seeing Stars. I'm not saying that he's abusive towards his staff, or anything like that - just that the very fact that he did it at all seemed to be totally subconscious, which in turn suggests that he doesn't realize how demeaning that is.

5. Actually, now that I think about it - the fact that he's so upset that specifically Blitzø didn't rescue him in Western Energy. The main reason he's alive and not bleeding out in the bottom of a mine shaft is because Millie and Moxxie showed up, and they only knew to go there and help him because Blitzø told them/they were there during the phone call. Like, does he even know their names? Is he even grateful that they helped? We don't know!

I saw someone in another thread say that he was essentially at the equivalent of the "I'm not racist, I don't even see colour!" stage of racism, and I completely agree. He doesn't realize all of these internalized prejudices he has, but they are ABSOLUTELY there.

(comment on another thread, building off of the comments I made about s2e4, originally posted July 7, 2024):

Also, a few other points to build off of this & respond to other comments on this thread:

"But he didn't tell Stolas about the first time, and the Carmine-crafted gun that Striker had that can kill royal demons" - You mean the one that Moxxie took from him and still has in his possession at the end of Harvest Moon Festival? The one that Moxxie was shocked that Striker even managed to get his hands on? Remember, I.M.P. didn't know that Striker was working for anyone; logically, that means they would have assumed that he got the weapon entirely on his own, and something like that is both rare and expensive - imps don't typically "make it big" in Hell, and I can't imagine a powerful Overlord would be thrilled to give a weapon that could kill them to someone so far below them in status. With them taking it from him and keeping it at the end of the episode, it means that they would assume that he's no longer a serious threat. They had no way of knowing he was being bankrolled by a royal, with access to three more angelic weapons (two pistols and a knife) (four if you count the rope as well).

"Stolas: You knew someone was trying to assassinate me?" Uhhhhh, yeah? You were there for Loo-Loo Land, dude, you know that people are trying to assassinate you, like all the time. This isn't news in any way - and yes, Striker is generally more dangerous than any of the assassins that we saw in that episode, it still doesn't change the fact that you're already well aware that being rich and royal puts a target on your back. This is really unfair to get upset with Blitzø for. (I'm aware that this is an argument and sometimes you bring up unfair accusations in arguments and both of them were very heated and I shouldn't have to plaster every comment about this episode and this relationship with disclaimers that I'm not hating anyone, just expressing frustration.)

[wiypt-writes]

What The Stark Spangled F**k?

A Stark Spangled Forever One Shot: Of Small Boys And Big Men

Summary: Steve isn’t the only Rogers male who’s protective over Katie…

Warnings: Some language…not much!

Words: 1.2k

A/N: So this one just came to me after a pretty shitty week, and it’s dedicated to my gals @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @icanfeelastormbrewing . Hope it put a smile on your faces.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

With four young kids badgering her for what felt like every waking hour, a bath in peace with a large pinot was the best blessing Katie could wish for. But now, as she’d been hiding for almost an hour, she knew it was time to face the music. With a contented sigh, she climbed out, wrapped herself in a towel and emerged into the bedroom, giving a little start as she saw Harry sat on hers and Steve’s bed, propped up on the mountain of cushions, his eyes fixed on the TV.

“You okay, baby?” She asked and he turned to look at her, flashing her a smile.

“Daddy said I could watch TV here.” He grinned. “Jamie is playing is ‘pooter in the den and Ror-wi,” he glowered, folding his arms, “she’s watching girl stuff.”

Katie chuckled. “What’s Daddy doing?”

“He’s in the kitchen with Uncle Sammy and Uncle Buck.” Harry answered as Katie sat on the edge of the bed. “They came before to drink beer.”

“What else is new?” Katie chuckled as he crawled over the soft duvet towards her and clambered into her lap. “You not drinking beer, too?”

“Daddy said I can’t have none until I��m... ermmm,” he looked at his hands before he held them up, all fingers extended, “this many.”

Katie chuckled and dropped a kiss to his head. “Well, how about I get my pajamas on and we’ll get hot chocolate and come back up here and snuggle whilst we watch a film?”

“Toy Story?” Harry’s eyes lit up and Katie nodded.

“Sure thing.”

“Okay.” He nodded, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in the necklace around her neck before he paused, and his fingers moved to her shoulder tracing over the now faded but still ever present scar from that fateful day on the bridge in DC. “What’s this?”

“Oh errr...” Katie hesitated for a while, trying to think how to answer. She’d always tried to be as honest with her kids as possible but how to explain to a three year old that it was a result of his momma being shot by one of his favourite people on Earth?

“Did someone hurt you?” He asked, his eyes wide and she took a deep breath.

“Yeah, a long time ago. I got shot.” She smiled. “But I’m okay now.”

“Was it the bad person who made Uncle Nee go away?”

“No, it…” Katie shook her head, “it’s a long story, honey. You’re too little to understand.”

At that Harry frowned. “Jamie says that all the time but I’m not a baby, now momma. I’m nearly four!”

Katie inwardly groaned, she knew he hated it when anyone insinuated he was a baby, especially now he technically wasn’t their baby anymore; not now, Flossie was the youngest. As his frown deepened, making him look ridiculously like his elder brother and father, his eyes cast downwards and he sighed.

The pout and the downcast eyes, coupled with the fact that Harry openly expressed his discontent at being called a baby, or close to, especially by his mother, guilted Katie in. She thought a moment on how she could explain it properly to him without hurting his feelings and making Bucky not look like a horrible person.

"Well, a long time ago, there was a man, who..." she paused in thought, "was under a bit of confusion, like in Toy Story 3, when Buzz becomes Senior Buzz, and he's confused and talks funny, and doesn't know who any of his friends are. That was the man who shot me."

"Yous shot by Senior Buzz, Mama?" Harry tired piecing it together.

"Not exactly. The man was confused like Buzz, he didn't remember who he was or that he hurt people."

"What did he wook wike?"

"He had long dark hair, he wore armor, and had a metal arm," Katie waited briefly to see if Harry would piece together her description and when the tot sat there looking for more information, she continued. "I was with your Daddy, and Uncle Sammy, and when we saw him, Daddy knew who he was and it broke his heart and mine."

"Who?"

"It was Uncle Bucky, but some very bad men had made him very confused for a very long time and he didn't know who he was, and he didn't remember Daddy and..."

"Uncle Bucky hurt you?"

Katie registered the look on her youngest son's face and she sighed. It wasn't easy explaining this, especially given how Harry was as inquisitive as he was, a trait obviously from herself. That Rogers frown appeared again on Harry's face as he puckered his lips up, and without another word he climbed down from his mother's lap and sulked off out of the room.

In haste and hoping to talk to him a bit better, Katie quickly dressed into her pajama pants and a sweatshirt of Steve's before following Harry, calling his name.

****

Steve watched as Bucky leaned against the kitchen counter, beer poised to his lips as he shook his head, snorting.

“No that’s not how it happened, at all.” He shot Sam a look. “The chute didn’t open.”

“It didn’t open because you didn’t wear it!” Sam scoffed, pointing his bottle at Bucky as he lounged in one of the chairs round the table as he took a pull from his drink. He swallowed and shot an accusatory look at Steve. “Dude, he’s worse than you. And that’s saying something!”

Before Steve could reply there was a sudden flurry of light brown hair as Harry whizzed into the room, bee lining straight for Bucky.

“Hey pal, how....” but before Bucky could finish his greeting, Harry had nailed him with a fist, straight into gut before following up with one that smacked him right in the crotch.

There were yells and movement from all three men, Sam’s contained an unmistakable undercurrent of amusement as he rose from the table to help, whilst Bucky’s was laced with pain as he bent forward, his hand covering the front of his jeans where Harry had landed a pretty strong thump. But the loudest shout of all was a stern, angry one from Steve.

“Henry Steven Rogers!” He blazed, gripping the boy gently round his upper arm, spinning him to face him. “What on earth?!”

“He hurt Momma! ” Harry’s furious eyes met Steve’s and Steve looked at his son, blinking bemusedly as he frowned.

“He hurt Momma? What-“

“Harry!” Katie appeared in the doorway, her hair piled on her head, as she rushed towards her little boy and crouched down in front of him. “It was a long time ago, and I’m okay now. I told you, Uncle Bucky didn’t mean it.”

“He shot you!” Harry looked at his mom before he turned and glared once more at Bucky, who was now straightened back up, waving Sam away as he took deep breaths, his face pale.

Katie sighed and hung her head before she looked at Steve then to Bucky. “He saw the scar on my shoulder.” She said gently, and at that Bucky hung his head, shaking it a little. “I’m sorry, Buck, I didn’t think...”

“Don’t.” Bucky grimaced, waving her apology away.

“Why did you shoot my mommy?” Harry demanded and Bucky hesitated before Steve gently spoke.

“Pal, look, it was a long time ago and your Uncle Bucky, well, he was confused and...”

“Yeah like Buzz.” Harry nodded, “but he shouldn’t have done it. No one hurts Momma, you said that.”

“I did, yeah.” Steve nodded.

“Hey, listen, he saved me once too.” Katie, suddenly struck with an idea spoke quickly. “He rescued me from a lot of very bad people and that’s good, yeah?”

It was lame, really lame, but it seemed to have done the trick as Harry’s face softened as he looked from Katie, to Steve then to Bucky.

“You did?”

Bucky nodded.

“Oh. Okay.”

Crisis averted, Steve let out a loud exhale before he looked at Harry. “Buddy, you can’t hit people like that.”

“But...”

“No buts, you got something to say to Uncle Bucky?”

Harry eyed Bucky, clearly contemplating whether he wanted to apologise or not, but when further goaded by a look from his father, not just any but 'the look' that meant business, Harry sighed, and wth a roll of his eyes that was so Stark like it made Steve want to laugh, he turned to Bucky.

"I’m sowwy. I don't wike it when people hurt Momma."

Bucky smiled at him, crouching down a little, wincing as he did so. “It’s okay, Pal. For what it’s worth I’m sorry too. But I don’t do that anymore, okay? You got nothing to be scared of.”

“I’m not scared.” Harry shrugged. “Daddy’s bigger than you, Jamie said he could kick your ass.”

At that Bucky snorted as behind Harry, Steve bit his lip and looked at Katie who was trying her hardest not to laugh as she shot him a wink.

“Well, maybe.” Bucky shrugged. “But I don’t wanna fight your dad, he’s my friend.”

“Come on.” Katie spoke as she stood up, holding out her hand. “Let’s go back upstairs and watch a movie. Sure if we ask nicely, Daddy will make us his special hot chocolate.”

“Hmmm I’m not sure.” Steve teased.

“Pweeeese!” Harry grinned at his dad. “Can I have cream and spwinkles?”

“Alright.” Steve smiled, running his hand over his son’s hair and stood up. He shot Bucky an apologetic look and his friend shook his head.

“Hey Harry, I gotta say buddy, that was a good hit.” Sam spoke. “Wish I’d filmed it.”

Harry, completely nonplussed, grinned at Sam before he held his arms up at Katie. She hooked her hands under his armpits and lifted him up, kissing his cheek.

“I’ll fetch it up in a minute, Doll.” Steve looked at her as she gave him a quick peck.

“No rush.” She smiled. “Goodnight guys.”

Bucky and Sam both waved as she turned and made for the door.

Steve watched them for a moment, smiling softly to himself. The way both his boys cared so much for their momma was something he was immensely proud of and the best thing they’d picked up from him, in his opinion. He’d always strived to instil into Jamie that he should look after and care for Katie and his sisters as best he could, and to his credit he did. And the fact that Harry seemed to be going the same way made Steve’s heart swell.

As Katie carried Harry through the door, the tot looked over his momma’s shoulder and raised his arm, extending his fore and middle finger before bringing them to his eyes and pointing at Bucky, the universal sign for 'I’m watching you' .

Steve just about managed to hold it together until his wife and son had rounded the corner towards the stairs before a huge laugh erupted from his mouth.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Hewo! I know I was literally just hear but like, I like your inbox soooooooo yeh. ALSO you introduced me to my new obsession *coughAnalosleepcough* and that deserves some recognition or whatever. So uhhhhhhhhhhhhh, meep. quack quack. moo. mooove bitch get out the way. (in a john cena voice) ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT. I'm feeling very memey right now. Send help. Or send me Analosleep fics\headcanons. Whatever works to make sure I don't die. I'm sowwy I have done this (Not really tho)

oh,,,, so you want analosleep do you,,,, :3

a dangerous thing to say to an idle Me, Hewo…. a dangerous thing….

(warnings for sleep deprivation, self-deprecation specifically around feeling things/feeling sad, referenced nightmares + isolation, panic attack, happy ending ofc; tagging @emo-disaster for the fic idea + the fact that it’s their ot3 I’m legally obligated to tag ‘em)

~~

When Logan shot up in bed in the dead of night, his first instinct was to slam a hand over his mouth.

Of course, this seemed to be a poor choice on his part- it was hard to breathe through sobs when you couldn’t pull in the air through your mouth, as sobbing often demanded you do- but in reality, it was the most logical one. It was the only way to muffle his sobs; aka, it was the only way to make sure he didn’t wake up his partners. They were cuddled against him, Virgil simply curling into his side whereas Remy had their arm through over his midsection. Though both were snoring softly, Logan knew that, if he wasn’t very careful, they’d be awake soon enough. Insomnia and poor sleeping habits made both of them into very light sleepers.

Which made the whole ‘not waking them as he fell apart’ thing a little difficult.

Slowly, Logan lifted Remy’s arm off of himself, tucking it against his partner’s side. Remy stirred at the movement, and Logan immediately froze, holding his breath as well as he could until Remy seemed to have settled back down.

He pushed himself up, careful not the creak the mattress too much as he quietly jumped over Remy. He hit the ground quietly enough, the result of having pulled this move off many times for happier reasons- usually to escape Remy trying to keep him in bed all day (and often being immediately caught a moment later by Virgil) or to get out so he could make a surprise breakfast for his partners. Using it in such unpleasant circumstances was grim, but if it worked…

Logan was careful as he crept out of the bedroom, well aware of exactly where the hazards and noisy spots were. He moved towards the dresser first, claiming his glasses before moving towards his escape. The door was tricky- it always squealed halfway through opening. Even opening it as little as possible, it still whined, and Logan winced, quickly turning back towards the bed to see if either of his loves had awakened.

Remy remained on their side, motionless and facing away from him, but Virgil had moved, face scrunched up as he reached out for the warmth that had left when Logan did, but his eyes thankfully still closed. Logan waited in the doorway as he watched Virgil grope about, letting out a small breath of relief when he found Remy’s arm and tugged them closer. With luck, he’d assume that Remy was Logan and fall back asleep, paying no mind to the lack of a third body in their shared bed.

Feeling secure in a successful escape, Logan slipped fully out of the bedroom, padding down the hallway towards the kitchen. He wiped impatiently at the drying tear tracks on his cheeks, happy that, at the very least, his sobbing had sorted itself out.

All he had to do now was get a drink of water, wash his face, take a breath, and go back to bed, pretending like nothing happened. Because that was the truth of the matter- nothing had happened! Nothing at all! It had just been some stupid nightmare- hell, was it even bad enough to be called a nightmare? Logan really didn’t think so.

After all, it had been bland- just him, him in some void of a place, all alone. Which was fine, what did he care, the only thing that even mattered a little was the odd lingering feeling dream-him had, the feeling that earlier he hadn’t been alone, that earlier Virgil and Remy had been there, but they were gone by the time the dream started, gone because they didn’t want to be there, gone because they didn’t want to be with Logan, gone because they had left him because they didn’t want him couldn’t deal with him couldn’t be with someone they didn’t love-

Logan stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, hand coming up to his mouth again as another sob tried to bubble out- this time not to muffle himself (the kitchen was down the hall from the bedroom, he was plenty far, he hoped) so much as to stop the sobbing before it could start up again.

Because it was pointless, really, to be crying over some stupid dream that wasn’t even real, that he knew wasn’t real and therefore didn’t matter to him at all, that didn’t mean anything because it was just. a. dream.

His body, however, wasn’t getting the message, and his attempts to stop his sobs were failing. All he could manage was keeping them quiet, even as he leaned against the kitchen doorway and slid down it, hitting the floor not-so-gently as he continued to remind himself why this all was just stupid.

Stupid, pointless, not even real, just a dream, get over yourself, even if it was real you could deal with it, this is stupid, whiny, emotional, this is-

“Honey?”

Logan froze at the sound of his partner’s voice. Why were they awake? He had been so careful- and they needed their sleep, why would they have come after him-

Remy was already dropping down to crouch next to him. They looked odd like this- hair messy instead of carefully arranged, sunglasses no where in sight, wearing baggy shirt and shorts instead of their fitting jacket and jeans- but they also looked soft, so Logan didn’t mind. At least, they normally looked soft- right now, forehead creased, eyes worried, they looked unhappy, and Logan hated that.

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but a sob came out instead, and even though he slapped his hand over his mouth as soon as it slipped out Remy had still heard it, their eyes only going wider in worry. They reached out, placing their hands on Logan’s shoulders. When he didn’t react, they started moving their hands over his arms, grounding, comforting, familiar.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, shh, you’re okay, I’m here, you’re safe, you’re okay, darling it’s alright, you’re alright.”

“Why are you awake?” Logan managed to ask, this time successfully stifling the sob that tried to slip out instead. There were still tears running down his face, yes, but it was dark- he could probably convince Remy it was just a trick of the light, convince them that Logan was fine, that they could go back to bed and Logan would be there soon enough, completely fine, as if nothing had happened (because, in Logan’s mind, nothing had).

“I woke up when you opened the door.” Remy answered, still running their hands over Logan’s arms soothingly. “Virgil did too. I thought you were just going to get water, but he said you looked upset.”

“I’m fine.”

Remy chuckled, but they sounded pained. “Babes, you’re crying on the kitchen floor at two am in the morning. This isn’t fine.”

“I’ll be fine.” Logan corrected. “You should- you can go back to bed, I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Then I can wait a moment so that we can go back to bed together.” Remy told him, one hand moving from Logan’s arm to cup his cheek, thumb wiping away some of his tears. “I know how you react to these things, love, and I’m not going to leave you alone to repress and ignore your problems away.”

“Go to bed, I’ll be fine.” Logan repeated, turning his head away from Remy and the hand cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes, as if pressing them shut would stop the flow of tears, would make Remy be sleeping again, would put everything back to a few minutes ago when everything- as far as his partners were aware- was fine, would make it so neither of them had to deal with him now, deal with him like this.

And that was the really ugly part of all this, the reason why he couldn’t just shake the thought, shake the stupid nightmare that wasn’t real- because it could be real, so easily, so easy that Logan was surprised it wasn’t real already, because his partners must have made some mistake when they picked him and every day that passed that they didn’t undo it was a miracle to him.

Because they were so- so feeling, Remy so lively and real and carefree, and Virgil may often be stuck in the throes of his anxiety but when he wasn’t he was so alive and bright and happy in his own way it was nearly infectious, and then there was Logan, Logan who had as many feelings as a worm and smushed them all down to the point they barely existed anyways, until all he was was stupid pointless outbursts and annoyance and waking up his partners who needed to sleep and not worry about him or his stupid fake unrealistic problems that came in the form of night time terrors and sobs he just couldn’t silence-

“-gan? Logan, I need you to breathe for me.”

Breathe? Why did he need to breathe? Wasn’t he already breathing? Why was Virgil (and when did Virgil get here?) asking him to breathe when he was already-

Oh.

He wasn’t breathing.

That was why.

He tried to do as Virgil asked, tried to take a breath in (since apparently at some point he had stopped), but it got stuck halfway up his throat, choking him instead. He bent over as he coughed, someone squeezing his hand reassuringly as he did so, Virgil still in front of him. Virgil took Logan’s free hand and pressed it against his chest.

“Breathe.” Virgil repeated, taking a deep breath as he spoke. Logan knew what he was doing- over-exaggerating his breaths so that Logan could follow them. Logan was more than grateful for the gesture.

It took a few minutes of Virgil coaching him through the breathing exercise and Remy- who Logan had finally identified as the one holding his hand- murmuring reassurances before Logan finally got his breathing under control. As soon as he did, Logan ducked his head, refusing to meet Virgil’s focused and earnest yet incredibly worried eyes any longer.

“Hey, Lo, can you look at me?”

Logan ignored Virgil’s polite ask. His boyfriend sighed before softly cupping Logan’s cheek. He didn’t force Logan to look up, however. “Can I see your pretty face, love?”

“Don’t want to.” Logan murmured, shaking his head minutely against Virgil’s palm.

“Alright.” Virgil responded easily, still cupping Logan’s cheek. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Logan said. “I’m fine.”

“You already tried that, hun.” Remy pointed out, words accusatory though his tone was only gentle. “And if I didn’t believe you before you had a panic attack, I’d definitely not believe you now.”

“I’ll be fine.” Logan said instead, well aware he was just repeating what he had told Remy earlier, hoping it would work this time. “I’ll be fine, just- you can just go back to bed, I’m sorry I woke you-”

“We’re not going back to bed until we know what’s wrong.” Virgil said, calmly but firmly. His hand remained against Logan’s cheek, thumb now rubbing a circle right beneath his eye. “And something’s pretty clearly wrong.”

“And whatever it is, you can tell us, sweetheart.” Remy added. “We won’t be angry, or upset, or anything. We just want to know what’s hurting you.”

“It’s stupid.” Logan told them bitterly.

Virgil clicked his tongue. “If it’s got you this worked up, it’s not stupid. And even if it were, I’d still want to hear it. We can’t help you til we know why you need help, starshine.”

Logan didn’t respond to that, allowing the conversation to be overtaken by silence. Remy and Virgil seemed to be alright with it, Virgil continuing to rub circles against Logan’s face and Remy continuing to ground him by squeezing his hand, neither of them showing any signs of stopping soon.

“…I had a dream.” Logan finally admitted after a good five minutes had passed, forced to accept that nothing he said would get his partners to simply give up on him (and a horribly illogical part of him spoke up too, saying this meant not escape but comfort, but Logan ignored that part). He cleared his throat. “A nightmare, actually.”

Both his partners made a noise of upset. “What was it about?” Virgil asked.

“Nothing, which is why it’s so stupid.” Logan lamented, angry at himself. “It was just me, sitting around doing nothing.”

“Is that all?” Virgil asked, gently prying, clearly unbelieving that there was nothing more to the nightmare.

“Yes!” Logan said, snapping, not at them but at the general idea of such a thing having brought him so low. “That was all- I was just there, minding my own business, alone, alone because-” Logan cut himself off, ignoring the lump that was starting to reform in his throat.

“Because what?” Remy pushed, quietly.

Logan swallowed. “Because-” He could say this, it wasn’t that hard, just the truth, “because you- you two had- you weren’t actually there I just knew that- that you had- you had left.”

Something that had just barely been fixed broke inside of Logan as he said that, and suddenly he was crying again, which really wasn’t making him feel any less stupid. Now, however, his partners were here, Virgil moving to hold Logan’s face with both his hands, gently wiping away the tears but not minding if he missed some; Remy’s grip moved from his hand to his waist, their arms wrapping around him and holding him comfortingly close.

“Shh, darling, handsome, honey-love, it’s okay, it’s alright.” Remy murmured, laying their forehead against the side of Logan’s head, a warm and real reminder that they were there. “No wonder you were upset, sweetness, I’d be upset too.”

“And it’s not stupid.” Virgil added, taking a moment to tuck Logan’s hair behind his ears so that Virgil could see his eyes. “Being left behind by people you care about is terrifying, Lo.”

“But it wasn’t real.” Logan protested, his voice raw and ugly from crying as he spoke. “It was just an illusion, a product of my mind, and you two are- you’re here, now, and not gone- yet- not gone and-”

“We’re not gone ever.” Virgil corrected. “You’re stuck with us forever.”

“I don’t know why…” Logan muttered, looking downwards, as if that would hide his comment.

“Because we love you, ya dork.” Remy said, voice light but sincere. “Because you’re cute and you make nerdy science jokes and have our favorite meals memorized even though you can’t cook and you’re the best at giving surprise cheek kisses and while it’s really stupid you’re always trying to be admirable and deal with your issues alone, which- like I said- is stupid, but sweet in theory.”

“Don’t want to bother you-”

“And you’re not.” Virgil cut him off, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re our very beloved boyfriend, Logan. If you’re hurting, we want to help you. You’re never bothering us, especially not over something like this.”

Logan didn’t speak for a moment, processing what his partners had told him. He almost wanted to come back with a lie, almost wanted to look at it and find that their words were false and empty, but he didn’t find that- it was late, they were all tired, and yet their voices were real and honest, in a way that couldn’t be faked ten minutes after awakening.

With a sigh, Logan leaned his head forward, Virgil immediately moving up so that Logan’s head hit his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“Don’t be.” Virgil told him, starting to run his fingers through Logan’s hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I was being illogical.”

“We all are sometimes, dearest.” Remy said soothingly.

Once more, silence fell upon the three of them, but it was more comfortable this time, Logan allowing himself to relax against both his partners as they held him. The nightmare was still playing in the background of his mind, but it didn’t hold as much sway over him now, the loneliness of the false memory nothing against the warmth of his reality.

“Should we relocate?” Virgil asked after a good five minutes had passed, still combing through Logan’s hair. Logan had started to lean more and more heavily against him, slowly but surely falling back into the embrace of sleep.

Logan nodded against Virgil’s shoulder, humming tiredly. Crying took too much effort.

Virgil just chuckled. “Babe, you wanna pick up our moonbeam?”

“Of course.” Remy said, quietly but happily. There was some shifting around Logan- part of which involved him removing his head from the crook of Virgil’s neck- before he was settled in Remy’s arms, his partner holding him close against their chest.

“No offense, babe, but you look worse than I do when I haven’t had my coffee.” Remy teased as they carried Logan back towards their room, Virgil following behind.

“Oh, don’t be mean to him.”

“I’m just saying!”

Logan hummed again and pushed himself closer to Remy. “Shhhh.”

“Aw, sleepy nerd.”

Virgil gently slapped their arm for that one, Remy chuckling soundlessly before leaning over and giving Virgil a kiss. “Love you too.”

Finally, they reached their bedroom once more, Virgil pulling Logan’s glasses off for him as Remy settled him down on the bed.

“And this time-” Remy  got on the bed as well, barely a second between them letting Logan go and them pulling him close against their chest once more, “you’re going to sleep until noon.”

“That’s too late.” Logan protested sleepily.

“And you’ve had a rough night.” Virgil said, climbing in behind Logan and wrapping his arms around both him and Remy. “You can have a little bit of sleeping in. As a treat.”

“That’s grammatically horrible.”

Virgil just laughed quietly and kissed the top of Logan’s head. “Go to sleep, nerd. Worry about my grammar in the morning.”

And, surrounded by the solid, real warmth of his partners who had no intentions of going anywhere, Logan did.