#idk something clicked in my brain and now its like OH I GET WHY PEOPLE WATCH MOVIES NOW

[inkybinkyboink]

yknow what pals i think that university is so weird specifically because you get really good at things you never thought you'd get good at? like i took a film course in my first year because i thought it was about theory and shit, i didn't realize they were going to teach you how to read a film. and then i ended up taking two more film courses because i'm stubborn and i thought those two would teach theory and the thing is, you get to the class, and it's not what you thought, but then you're kind of stuck there, and you need the credits anyways, and then three fucking years later you've just gotten really good at watching movies and it's weird. like i didnt go to post secondary expecting to learn film but like here we are ig.

[burinazar]

(idk who will care about this post but i think long schpiels on extremely specific Thoughts About Media is a major use case for tumblr so you’re getting it anyway) i think i wouldn’t at all have my feeling of disconnect re the rest of fandom’s* interest in Bondord if he had been a woman. this isnt a bizarre critique of some sort its just a funny thought about me and what i like. twisted inversion of motherhood with a mad scientist character feels like, the concept has More For Me than the same with fatherhood and would create more intrinsic interest in the character

*especially ‘my cohort’ — the contingent who seems to have similar predilections like fic/shipping activity and also much of the portion of the fandom that’s, like, adult women — largely those folks are big Bondrode fans and enjoy Guebon and i’m like, i relate to your habits guys but have very little interest in your man. (for those who haven’t heard me bitch about this before: i dont hate him but i have littlr interest in seeking out art or fic of him or anything and I’m kinda sad that he’s the only adult character who ever got like figures and nendo and stuff.)

hopefully no one takes this personally lol. hell, i don’t care if Bon fans think Belaf is boring! that is in fact vastly preferable to people who are randomly mean about my ships. please feel free to just ignore my favorite characters’ existence instead.

anyway like

if he’d shown up as A Horrible Science Woman and then the movie recast her into Also A Loving (But Still Horrible) Mother i’d probably like this chara much more. it’s not like because Ooh Evil Woman Hot or something. actually i think i still wouldn’t find her hot the way most of the aforementioned Bondord Enjoyers do. i pick up a new ‘character i think is actually hot’ very rarely and then they stay forever. i have very limited slots for that tbh. (also this is just me complaining now and no longer relevant but such characters tend to be pretty unpopular lol and have very little r18 content/fic available and generally this drives me to despair. i drew a picture about the top offenders once.)

it’s more..i think the fucked up inversion of motherhood is more intrinsically interesting to me than with fatherhood. it’s just a personal interest thing. i think that sort of thing is neat. if i ever bother to go watch chainsaw man it’ll be because i know that’s a thing that it gets into and many people like what it does there. also there’s how much i dig mapping parts of this show onto other parts (in fact this is already the context in which i do manage to find him interesting sometimes — the Riko Waz Bondird sliding scale of what lines you’ll cross is the one context in which i have a brain cell to focus on this guy lol.) and in that regard motherhood is part of the premise of the show and all and ways it can be inverted and fucked up is a big deal in my favorite arc even if this isn’t *why* it’s my favorite arc. so i think i’d also enjoy being able to make more parallels with it. even though the general parallel of ‘versions of parenthood’ is still available, i think bad mad scientist fathers are just a less intrinsically Oh Cool concept to me than ‘bad mad scientist mother.’ (Yes I Do Like Prospera Btw)

related: even though I love love love Waz and you guys know this, it also took a while for that to click into place after meeting him. but one time I saw Oriole’s girlWaz tenderly cradling one of the Irukos and i instantly realized that if he had been a woman and the visual of him with the baby and a knife had thus inevitably channeled inverted motherhood and dovetailed with the existing examinations of motherhood in the arc and in abyss as a whole, i would have loved him instantly instead of having to let my thoughts on him percolate.

[quixoticrobotic]

When 90's dude went to karaoke during the Entity arc and was like "I'm gonna show you how Breakfast at Tiffany's can be the most extreme rock song EVVER" - That's LOVE!!! Like when I try and combine my fixations with my friend's fixations, even if they don't click in my brain as strongly, that is to me an act of love and friendship. And the fact that Harvey brushes it off is just like- please understand what is being said!!

HARVEY IS SO MEAN IN THE ACTUAL SHOW IT IS SO JARRING its just one of those things i kinda gently tone town in my head bc i don't think it's supposed to come off as mean as it does

i actually have a lil theory that like. harvey figured out the missingno thing because pokemon is his special interest

but like i also like to think he would have notice 90's dude seemed a little...off during karaoke night.

and then this leads into some juicy character introspection because like finding out someone who is your friend who you care about was possessed by some glitch monster god is upsetting like thats an awful thing for someone to go through obviously!

but like. harvey is used to bad things that are complicated "real world" problems with no real solutions

and so harvey is fretting about like. what if 90s dude isn't feeling well, or maybe hes like getting bullied at school or theres a problem with with his home life or just anything that has nothing to do with their little friend group, its just something harvey cant do anything about its something harvey cant help with or fix so like "oh no it was just the usual weird stuff that happens around here, the kind you can fight against and win and then its gone." its kind of a relief??? like again thats still not IDEAL but. things are gonna get better now. thats the thing that matters

tbh i headcanon the crew had noticed 90s dude seemed a little off like. the entity can shout all the catchphrases and stuff. but like its human impression is only so good. and these people know 90s dude, they're gonna notice if hes been a little more quiet than usual or talks a lot less or if little details are off

i just dont think anyone connected "hey our friend is acting strange, which could be bc of something thats not our business" with "there are mass disappearances happening all over the world thats....scary" bc like idk why you'd assume those were related at all

[usersasaki]

So like I said in the last ask- I was reading through my inbox because one of my new moots sent me an ask and I figure why no go through memory lane(.. is that how you say and use it.. ? Idk-)

So i scrolled through my asks.. which usually consists of people saying thank you and sweet stuff so like those were fun~ then I got to your ask (which was literally my VERY FIRST.. i think? Ask!) And I just re-read it again feeling the feels, legit started asking "man, Hey Lord, I miss Karma so much- I wonder how they are-"

And I had a thought of checking your moot's (byeol's) acc.. i dont know- Maybe God gave me the feeling who knows! LOL- but I did and I scrolled to when I sent in an ask to your moot about you and I was reading the post and my brain saw the "2 notes" I was like "huh...", clicked it and saw mine and your account... and I dont know why- the feeling inside me the Intuition, the urge that God gave me man- told me to just "check the acc out— I mean logically it could've been a random account.. but idk the FEELS MAN

So I did and.. I saw both of your names.. ya know 'erez and karma'... maybe it was because I was coping so hard that my brain immediately go "....karma..?"... Thinking about it now anyone also could've used the same name 😩 but I was like "No way.... im- im not- This isnt a dream... Lord tell me this is real"

And then BAM sent in an ask as Anon and then when you answered I just go 'oh screw all my worries- fastest way to know if this is karma is show my self.... i mean the worst thing that could happen is... I embarrass myself... yeah.." and THEN YEAH I SENT ASK AGAIN...

(this whole situation is just funny to me because your moot (byeol) said in the tags that 'Im hopeful that both your paths will cross again' or something like that... when I first read that i was like.. 'well.. I hope' and then it became 'I doubt.. but still would be nice but if not then.. its okay too! Just hope karma's doin good' and now... Here we are :D)

so basically keeping the ask safe in my inbox was a good idea... (I was praying and hoping that I'll be able to meet you again- guess that was God's plan LOL)

i'll put my answer under the cut (and also so sorry for not replying for abt a month i think? got really busy with uni ;;)

ok kei sweetie, you have no idea how much i teared up reading this ask, i had to take multiple deep breaths cuz?? it's so sweet?? and we got reunited again 🥹🥹 ngl i would occasionally go to your acc to like stalk a lil (not in a creepy way) and see if you'd answered my ask but you hadn't so i half thought you didn't get my ask at all? if you had answered i was gonna be sending you like lil anon msgs so that we could keep in touch but cuz i didn't know if you even got the first one,, yeah DCFNJDSDCFM either way i'm so glad to get to talk to you again 🥹🥹🥹🥹

HFBREJDNFC NOT THE PLAYLIST OMGGGG I'M SO. god i do not deserve this, you are so sweet and for what.

[batarangsoundsdumb]

guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

[choking-on-tae]

Wizard ATEEZ Falling In Love With A Non-Magical S.O

Anon: how about wizard!ateez falls for a normal non-magical s/o? hmm like wizards and humans aren't allowed to interact so they kept the relationship a secret? or the friendship a secret if you don't want it to be romantic

Anon: ot8 wizard!ateez would be great or it can be hongjoong if you want a single member fic. but you can choose anyone you think fits it best they're all my bias sdjhfkfkr

A/N: I absolutely love supernatural AU's and ATEEZ so for me this is the perfect combo! I love this idea and wanted to make it longer than my normal reactions, hence why I didn't make it a 'ateez reaction to' post although it's pretty similar. I love supernatural AU's but be warned this is gonna be looooooong. x

Warnings: Angst and mentions of injuries. Idk if that triggers anyone but just thought I'd let you know in advance! x

Seonghwa

Seonghwa is someone who follows rules and doesn't question them to much. It isn't until he catches feelings for an adorable non-magical person that he finds himself questioning it. Why is it that wizards aren't allowed to fall in love with non-magical people? It just something that doesn't make sense to him. It's because humans are supposedly dangerous to them, although Seonghwa couldn't possibly imagine how.

He's just going on his evening walk when he spots you sitting in a field, admiring the pretty flowers. A soft smile spreads across his face as he makes his way towards you. "They're really pretty, aren't they?"

Your head snaps around at the sound of a voice, but you instantly relax when you notice it's Seonghwa. You flash him a shy smile as you nod your head.

"Yeah, these tulips are my favorite actually."

Seonghwa moves to sit down beside you as he too admires the beautiful tulips. You know Seonghwa is a wizard and that you're technically not supposed to be around each other, but it just feels so weird to you. He's just Seonghwa. There's nothing scary about him.

"I know we're not supposed to be around each other but I really like talking to you, Seonghwa." You whisper softly, but due to your close proximity it's still loud enough for him to hear.

He feels his heart flutter as he looks you in the eye. His heart beating rapidly against his chest as he tries to find the right words to say.

"I know what you mean. I feel the same way about you Y/N."

You smile at his words as your hands creeps towards his, gently lacing your fingers together as you give his hand a tight squeeze. Seonghwa feels his cheeks flush as he smiles brightly, knowing that you feel the same way he does.

He leans in to press a kiss against your cheek before resting his head on your shoulder, playing with your fingers as you two sit peacefully in the tulip field.

Hongjoong

Hongjoong isn't one to obey the rules, so when he came across one that said that wizards aren't allowed to fall in love with humans, he almost wanted to fall in love with one just to break the stupid rule. Almost. What he didn't expect was to actually fall in love with one. He didn't hate humans but the never actually found one that caught his eye. Until he met you. He spotted you one day when he was looking out of the window, sipping a warm cup of coffee as he looked at the outside world.

That's when he spotted you walking outside, headphones on as you skipped around. He chuckled softly when he saw how happy you looked, and he instantly wanted to get to know you better. There was just something about you that caught his eye, and he wanted to know what it was.

It wasn't until he finally met you that he found out what it was, your passion. Whenever you talked about something you liked your eyes would sparkle. It was something he hadn't seen before in a person and it really made him want to get to know you better. Hongjoong could tell right away that you weren't a witch, and that he should probably stay away but he just couldn't bring himself to do that.

He likes you, so he continued meeting up with you and eventually fell in love. You're sitting under a tree together, listening to one of your favorite songs when Hongjoong suddenly leans in to press a kiss against your cheek, taking you by surprise.

You stare at him with wide eyes as you ask, "What are you doing?" "Isn't it obvious? I like you."

"But you aren't supposed to-" "-I know that, but I don't care. I like you Y/N and there's nothing I can or want to do about that. That is if it's okay with you of course."

His voice grows noticeably softer towards the end, which doesn't go unnoticed by you. He must be nervous for your response. Because you know just as well as he does that you aren't supposed to be doing this, but you can't bring yourself to care.

So you flash Hongjoong a bright smile as you pull him close enough to kiss him. He's surprised at first but soon kisses you back. It's short and sweet but long enough to know what the other person is feeling.

Hongjoong pulls back and wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you two lean back against the tree again and continue listening to your favorite playlist.

Yunho

Yunho is so focused on trying to perfect his spell that he doesn't hear you come in. You walk into the room, excited to show your best friend a funny video you saw online when you see something floating in the air. You drop your phone to the ground, the sound startling Yunho who turns around to look at who came in. Once he sees that it's you his eyes grow wide and he drops the object that was floating in the air.

"Y/N..." He says, beyond shocked that you caught him.

Now there's no point in hiding it anymore. Now you know he's a wizard. "I-I can explain..." He says, slowly making his way towards you but to his surprise he doesn't see you backing away.

"You're a wizard..." You stammer, still staring at you with wide eyes.

"I am. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

"I get it." "Huh?"

"I get why you didn't tell me, Yunho."

He's surprised by your action but also relieved. Yunho is glad that you aren't scared of him, so he makes his way towards you and gives you a hug, which you return.

"So you're not scared of me?" He asks, nervously biting down on his bottom lip as he stares at you with big eyes.

"Of course not Yunho."

He flashes you a bright smile as he rests his chin on your shoulder, holding you close. Yunho brushes his nose against your cheek before pressing a soft kiss against it.

"I really like you Y/N. I know I'm not supposed to but that's why I tried hiding it from you."

You nod at his words as you pull back just enough to be able to look at him. "I really like you too Yunho. I don't care that you're a wizard and I'm not a witch, but I still like you a lot."

Yunho smiles brightly at your words as he presses his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes.

"Then let's not care about what people say and just be together."

Yeosang

You grab the two mugs with hot tea as you make your way to the living room, where Yeosang is reading a new book that he's become obsessed with lately. You let out a soft chuckle as you place the mugs down on the coffee table as you watch how focused Yeosang is on the book.

"What's it about?"

Yeosang's head snaps up upon hearing your voice. His cheeks turn a soft shade of pink as he tries to find the right words to say. "Its... uhmm.. just a book about history."

You nod softly, not believing a word he says. Yeosang has never been a good liar and you can see right through him, but you don't question it further.

You take your mug as you start sipping your tea, taking out your phone as you scroll through it.

"I'm gonna go to the restroom real quick." "Okay."

Yeosang closes the book as he leaves to go to the restroom. As soon as he's gone you reach for the book and look at the name. "The history of potions." Why the hell would he be reading a book about potions? It's then that something clicks in your brain. Oh my god Yeosang is a wizard.

You sit there in shock until Yeosang comes back, looking just as shocked as you. "Y/N... I.. I can explain."

"Are you a wizard?"

Yeosang nods softly as he feels his cheeks heat up from your stare. "Yes, I'm sorry for not telling you. I know we've been dating for a while but I didn't know how to tell you..."

"I'm not mad. I get why you didn't tell me."

He seems surprised by your reaction, and can't help but smile softly when he sees your happy expression. "So we're good? Even though we technically aren't supposed to be together?"

You wrap your arms around Yeosang's neck as you look him in the eyes. Staring at him lovingly before leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. "I don't care about that Yeo. I just want to be with you."

San

You and San are playing in the field together, laughing and running after each other when you accidentally fall over a branch.

"Are you okay?" San asks, hurrying towards you as he kneels down besides you, examining the injury on your leg. The cut looks pretty deep and there's some dirt in it as well. San takes out his wand and uses a spell to cure your injury. Meanwhile you're staring at him with wide eyes. Coming to the realization that your best friend and person you're in love with is a wizard.

You feel your heart sink as you feel yourself tearing up. San puts his wand away and turns to look at you with a soft smile, but it disappears as soon as he sees the tears in your eyes. "W-What's wrong Y/N?"

"You're a wizard?"

San nods his head, his eyebrows furrowing because he still doesn't understand why you'd be upset about that. Since you've said multiple times that you think wizards are pretty cool. It isn't until he thinks back on some things you've said to each other that he realizes why you're crying. You're in love with him.

San feels his heart ache when it dawns upon him. The person he's been in love with for years feels the same way about him. Now it makes sense why you're upset. San sighs softly as he looks at you, wiping your tears as he leans in to kiss your forehead.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I should have told you sooner."

San moves to get up but as soon as he does you grab his hand, pulling him back instantly. The unexpected move causes San to fall forward and onto you. The two of you stare at each other with wide eyes as you feel your cheeks heat up.

"Sorry.. I just didn't want you to leave."

"No I get that." San says, smiling softly as he looks into your eyes.

"Maybe we could make this work, we just have to keep this a secret. I don't know if you want to d-" You press your lips against his, efficiently shutting him up as you wrap your arms around his neck. San smiles against your lips as he pulls back, chuckling softly.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Mingi

From the moment Mingi first met you he knew you weren't a witch, and that it would be dangerous to befriend you. Not because you're a human because humans aren't dangerous, but because he might fall in love with you. When he met you he could instantly tell that you had a different way of thinking, and Mingi really liked that. It didn't take long before the two of you became friends, and soon he started to fall in love with you.

This cutie would be so conflicted, because he knows he isn't supposed to fall in love with a non-magical person but he couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to.

You were aware that Mingi was a wizard and that you weren't allowed to be together, but just like Mingi you couldn't understand why it was that way. What was so wrong about wizards and non-magical people loving each other.

You were sitting on the couch, cuddled up together when Mingi suddenly leans down to kiss your cheek. Your eyes grow wide as you look at him. Your expression making him chuckle.

"What's it, Y/N?" "Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I like you."

If you weren't blushing before you sure are now. Mingi chuckles at your expression as he hugs you tighter.

"I know it's not allowed but I don't care. I like you and if you'll let me I'd love to be your partner."

You smile brightly as you hug him tighter, pressing a couple of kisses against his cheeks as he chuckles softly.

Wooyoung

One thing Wooyoung has always been interested in is potions, specifically love potions. He wonders if they actually work so that's why he decided to make one. Woo wasn't planning on making one that makes someone fall in love but one that lets you smell the scent of your soulmate. Wooyoung wanted to find out if it was really you. Once he finishes putting all the incredients in he stirs it around a litle before a delicious scent fills his nostrils. A delicious but also very familiar scent. Your perfume mixed with the smell of your laundry detergent. He's so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't hear the front door unlock.

When you walk into his apartment the last thing you expect is to see your best friend standing over a small cauldron. You furrow your eyebrows as you stare at him. "Uhm. What are you doing, Woo?"

As soon as he hears your voice a panicked expression is plastered on his face. His eyes wide as he stares at you in shock. "Y/N... what are you doing here?"

You show him the bag of chips he asked you to buy as you say, "It's our weekly movie night. Did you forget?"

"No.. of course not.. uhm.." Wooyoung stammers, trying to think of an explanation but knowing there is none.

You lean against the doorframe as you fold your arms over each other, staring at him with a smirk on your face. "So a wizard, huh? That explains a lot."

Wooyoung seems surpised by your response but he's relieved you're taking it so well. He smiles softly as he makes his way towards you. "So.. you're not mad?"

You shake your head 'no' as you give him a hug. "Of course not, although it would have been nice to know that the guy I like is a wizard."

"You like me?" He smiles brightly upon hearing your words, pulling you closer until his nose brushes against yours.

"Yes. Like Wooyoung. I like you."

Wooyoung leans in to kiss you softly as he mumbles, "I really like you too Y/N. I don't care what anyone says."

Jongho

Jongho is going on his usual evening walk when he spots you sitting out near the river. He's surprised to see you there so late, since you're not a massive fan of the dark. He makes his way towards you, trying not to scare you as he carefully sits down next to you.

You look up to see Jongho sitting next to you, making you smile softly. Just when you were thinking about you he appears. How funny. Jongho's heart flutters when he sees you smiling at him as he notices you fiddling with your fingers. Something you always do when you're nervous.

"What are you thinking about Y/N?" "Oh.. just something." You mumble, trying to avoid his eyes.

Jongho is having none of it so he gently takes your hand is his, softly brushing his thump across the back of it as he gives it a soft squeeze. "You can tell me."

"I like you Jongho. And I know I'm not supposed to and you probably don't like me back but I just can't help it."

His eyes widen at his words as he takes a moment to take all of it in. You like him back? A wide smile spreads across his face as he takes your other hand is his too, squeezing them softly as he looks at you.

"Y/N... I like you too. I can't believe you feel the same way."

Now it's your turn to be surprised. Jongho likes you back? Even though he's a wizard?

"But we aren't supposed to..-" "-I know, but I don't care."

Both of you smile softly at each other as Jongho pulls you a little closer to him, so you're practically pressed together as you continue staring at the flowing river in front of you. aa

[owaowabetch]

Uh Oh (Sykkuno x F!Reader)

Oneshot (maybe part of a series??? idk we’ll see): The Prequel to “Impasta” in which reader meets the gang for the first time and experiences a betrayal. Mainly Friendship

Warning: non-beta, I wrote this in one go and full sent it. 

You were a small time Twitch streamer that had recently befriend a streamer with a much larger audience, ValkyRae.  You had been talking back and forth for quite some time, since Rae’s dm to you weeks ago. You were mainly an rp channel where you played games like GTA, The Sims, and Animal Crossing. Though you gained a lot of your followers from playing League, though it mostly consisted of hate-followers that would only critique your gaming, even though you were pretty good at it. But it doesn’t bother you too much *que sob*

You were streaming GTA on a RP server playing an amish girl on a Rumspringa and wreaking havoc. You and your ‘gang’ had successfully finished hitting a bank truck ,causing your character to rake in a few thousand dollars, when you got a message from Rae asking you if you had wanted to play a few rounds of the popular game among us. 

“Alright guys, a friend asked if I wanted to join her lobby of among us. I know it’s different from the stuff i usually stream, but is that something you guys would be cool with?” You asked your chat and watch an influx of people messaging ‘yes’ or ‘pog’. You take a sip of your Starbucks and picked up your phone to message Rae that you’ll be joining. “Fair warning, I’ve never played among us. So we’ll see how this goes, guys” 

While you waited to be invited to the discord and into the lobby, you chatted with your viewers for a bit. “I just realized that I’m really awkward around new people. Like when I’m playing on the GTA Rp Server, I’m not myself, I’m a character you know? So it’s easier to talk with other people, cause they’re also role playing. Plus I don’t think I can call anyone in the discord a musty dusty rat bitch lol or sell them drugs, it’s not that kind of game...unless?...” You laugh as you login to your discord and accept the invite to the discord “alright guys! here we go~”

You enter the discord call and hear people talking. 

“Y/N!” Rae exclaims “Guys this is my new friend y/n”

“Hi” Responding to the various voices greeting you

“OK, so the code is in the chat and so are the bubbles, so your chat can see who is talking and what not” Rae explains

You input the code and saw your little character in the space ship. “Oh god guys look at us!” You ran your little character around the ship “How do we change colors? I’m not feeling this blue and I saw Rae with her lil creepy mask”

You read your chat tell you what to do so you went to the little computer to change the blue to white and clicked through all the hats til you decided on the pink flower. “How about this guys? Yellow is my favorite color but its taken”

“Alright, you ready y/n?” Rae asked

“Yup” you respond by running circles around her character

“OK i’m starting. Don’t forget to mute and close chat. You can open it back up if your imposter or dead” Rae sang “Good luck~”

“Alright chat I gotta close you til the game is done? I guess” You hum as the words ‘crewmate’ pop up. “Well at least i’m not imposter, i know the game. I mean who hasn’t at this point. I just never played it, seems to be to nerve wracking”

You open the map icon and run to where the closet yellow exclamation point was, which was admin. You make sure to note all the colors around you in there as you swipe your card “Alright, green, yellow, brown,red, and orange” You repeated the colors over and over again as you make your way into electrical when you notice something “Ok uh green is following me? I don’t know why but its freaking me out.” The lights turn off and you start freaking out “Oh god, this is where I die. Don’t I? You know what do it. Kill me! It’s probably a good idea. I’m kind of an idiot and it’ll help me figure things out on my own without the pressure” You follow the arrow pointing to a panel and you click on it “What am i supposed to do? You know green, this would be the perfect opportunity to murder me in cold blood... is this how you do it?” You flip the switches so that they are all bright green and the lights turn on “YAS BITCH, I did it” 

The green character kind of just circles your body as you do tasks in electrical, you do download, wires, and power diverter. “Ok BUT WHY IS HE FOLLOWING ME!!” 

An orange body had been reported and that two others had died (bright green and pink) and the person who reported the body was black or as his name read ‘Abe’ “Ok, so this body was in admin on card swipe”

“Well this body couldn’t have been me or y/n” Sykkuno says “I was following her this entire time”

“Yea, I’d like to know why lol? You were kinda freaking me out dude” You laugh a bit trying to play off how nervous you were to call him out on it

“Oh No! I was protecting you” Sykkuno explains “I promise”

“Sykkuno? Are you already simping for someone?” Rae feigns exasperation 

“No really guys!” He explains nervously “The new person always dies first, so I was just trying to protect her.”

You hum and smile mischievously “Unless, your just trying to gain my trust only to murder me in coldblood in front of my bestie Rae, to prove your superiority over her!?!”

Rae gasps “Really Sykkuno!?! I’m voting you just for that!”

“Wah? No wait! It’s not like that really” Sykkuno starts laughing as Rae votes “Oh God did you really vote for me?”

“Yes” Rae says and you start laughing 

“So anyways, Leslie’s body is in admin?” Hafu says wanting to talk more about the body and get all the sus’s and clears

Though you gasp when you realized a few things “wait I have some info to share” teasing Sykkuno had loosened you up a bit “it was me,green,yellow,brown,red, and orange in admin. Then me and green, uh Syyykkkuunnoo? Sorry if i didn’t say your name right, left and went into electrical, then lights were called and I fixed them before finishing off my tasks in there. So the body must’ve died during lights unless she left and came back into admin after lights were fixed? which doesn’t make much sense, sooo yea” you smiled “look at me chat! being all smart and shit” 

“yes” Poki agrees “I left admin also with Rae just before lights were called”

“Ok, so I know that puts sus on me, but I went straight to lights when they were called” Hafu says “Someone on the right side must’ve vented when lights were off. Like I was entering the hallway from storage with Tina when lights got fixed and we went to reactor room together. So it couldn’t have been me. Maybe Tina? I dont know which way she come from, but it was not me”

“That is true. I did meet up with Hafu at storage, but I don’t know man” Tina says “ I was doing download in comms”

“Oh god” You tell chat “I don’t know whether to believe Hafu or not. I know she is really good, along with Toast, but he hasn’t said anything”

“Well it is seven and we don’t vote on seven, so we can skip. Just putting a sus on Hafu” Rae says

“Yes please do” Hafu says as she votes to skip

“Do we know where the other bodies are?” Poki asks as the seconds start to dwindle down to zero “Also Toast? Why are you so quiet?”

“I’m trying to figure out a new strat, so don’t you worry. I’ll catch the killers” Toast starts to evil laugh and that was the end of the meeting.

“Ok we’re susing Hafu for this.Though I don’t think it’s her only cause I remember watching one of her imposter plays and it would be a too obvious kill,since so many people were there, it just doesn’t make sense, so someone venting in and killing is plausible or could be a self report? I don’t know lol It’s my first game” You run with Sykkuno and finish up your tasks together. Though lights were called when you both were at shields, you can see the vent pop open and in your little vision bubble you see a flash of red “Whelp this is where I die, I’d like to rate Sykkuno an 8 out of 10 for protecting me, but obviously I am now died” True to your word Rae killed you and you saw Sykkuno running around like a headless chicken when he reports your body 

“Oh God! They got her when I was trying to protect her!” Sykkuno exclaims 

“Sykkuno! You were supposed to be protecting her!?” Rae shouts “What happened? Did you kill her in cold blood? hmm?”

“smh Rae, you murdered me right in front of Sykkuno” You sigh “Well chat looks like I’m dead and we can speak now”

“No!” Sykkuno denies “I said I was going to protect her. I wouldn’t kill her after saying that”

“Well she’s dead now Sykkuno! Where’s the body?” Toast dramatically says

“It’s in shields. It happened when lights were off” Sykkyno says “I’m sorry y/n, I couldn’t protect you”

“Aw that is so cute” You pout at his apology, it wasn’t his fault. It was dark, so obviously he couldn’t see

“Well I don’t think Sykkuno did this, He said he was protecting her to everyone, so I can say that he’s crew” Hafu says “I’m at light panel, I remember seeing Poki and Tina there”

“I can confirm this” Poki says “So Toast let’s hear your big brain play. What’s your strat?”

It was silent for a minute, before Toast admits that he doesn’t have one.

“Ok so we can all agree that Toast is the imposter right?” Rae says “Vote him outta here!”

“Yep” Tina agrees hitting that vote on him and many follow suit

“Wait guys! WAIT! I do! I do have a strat” Toast screams out “Uhhh... wires! The wires guys!”

“Lol they’re gunna vote him off” You watch people voting “Rae is probably gunna win this”

“Yea, you’ve done that pay before” Poki laughs

“Don’t worry I’ll skip Toast” Sykkuno says 

“Why would you skip if we’re on 6?” Rae asks “Is Toast your imposter buddy?”

“Wah? I said I was protecting y/n, why would I kill her?” Trying to make his innocence obvious 

“Unless you killed her by accident or Toast did and you’re trying to protect him like the Simp you are!” Rae accuses him

Tina starts to also question Sykkuno “Wait a second, I dont think I’ve seen you do a single task this entire game! You’ve just been following y/n all around! We should vote him off next!”

“Guys, I swear it’s not me, it just doesn’t make sense” You can hear him plead “Oh no guys, how did this get twisted? It’s Rae! But how did it go to thinking Sykkuno as imposter?”

The meeting ends with Toast screaming into the abyss as he is yeeted out with Sykkuno telling him that he voted to skip.

“Ok then chat, looks like the imposters are gunna win, lets talk for a bit” You sigh and start reading the comments “ I know that I didn’t talk much with them, but I’m just awkward in general and I don’t know what to say to them. This is the first time playing with a group like this where i’m supposed to be myself and not a character.”

The words Defeat appeared on screen and there was Hafu and Rae as imposter. “I honestly didn’t think it was Hafu”

“Hafu was that you that killed Leslie in admin? I didn’t think it was “You asked when you returned to the lobby

“NO! I got framed by my own partner” Hafu explains before taking her bathroom break

“How did Rae get that kill cause I was with her?” Poki asks

“I vented from Caf back into admin when lights were off” Rae laughs “and I vented into shields and killed y/n right in front of Sykkuno!”

“Im sorry for not being able to protect you” Sykkuno runs circles around my character “Next round I’ll do better! I promise”

You laugh and start chasing after him in the ship “What if you end up as imposter?”

“Then I’ll have to look away as my imposter buddy kills you” Sykkuno laughs behind his hand and clears his throat “Im joking, Im joking, I promise”

“Wow Sykkuno” You tsk and run over to the opposite side of the room “I don’t know if I want your protection services now”

“Uh” Sykkuno splutters “I’m joking I promise! I won’t kill you as imposter”

“Wait til Corpse hears you simping over someone else” Poki says before starting the game

“Wait Hafu is still in the bathroom!” Rae exclaimed, but it was to late to stop the game from starting, so she’ll have to jump in when she comes back. Though you swear you feel your heart jump out of your chest when the words Imposter read on you screen. The 1st of the night for you and another in a row for Hafu.

“Oh God guys. Hafu is in the bathroom, but she has to carry us” You start to panic “What we do we do!?! Wait is Sykkuno seriously gunna follow us? Should we kill him or would that be to obvious?” You see the chat tell you that it would be to obvious and that it would be better to maybe frame him, but it seems to mean to you “Should we kill someone in front of him? You know to test his loyalty? It’s a terrible idea”

Though before you go on to fake tasks, you see Sykkuno standing on top of Hafu’s body, so you also go ontop of Sykkuno’s and to the outside perspective you are protecting Hafu, but really for you it’s to ensure that your imposter partner is going to be walking around and killing people,once she comes back from the bathroom. It seems that Hafu is back from the bathroom as her yellow character starts making her way away from you both. You and Sykkuno make your way to admin when lights get called and Sykkuno starts to wiggle his body around into a corner. It seems as though he wants you to stack with him in a corner, but before you do you double back when you see a body pass by and kill them, though you start to laugh when you see your character kill Rae, before ‘stumbling’ into Sykkuno’s view in the corner. You both stay there as lights turn back on and go on card swipe. You think about juking Sykkuno, but realize that it’ll look sus on you for ditching him. So you two just walk around ‘completing’ tasks as every once in a while the lights would go off and you two will stack on each other or wait for doors to open which you had been closing alot of them. 

“Honestly guys I’m at a point were I just wanna murder someone in front of him” You start to evil laugh as you both stack in the corner of medbay as lights start turning on when a body got called

“It’s toast, it’s toast, it’s toast” Hafu chants as it was her who reported the body “I saw him kill Poki”

“oh she self reported” you note and click on Toast’s name but not locking in your vote just in case. You also noticed that four people had died “She killed three people!?! Wow she is beast in this game! Holy Shit guys”

“see, from my perspective it’s hafu. I didn’t see the kill, but I did see blood splatter and Hafu immediately reported the body and blamed me, so it has to be Hafu. I’m voting her” Toast explains and votes her

“no no no no no no no. I saw you kill her when lights got fixed.” Hafu describes her side and what she did in that round “ Ok guys I was afk for like the first 20 seconds and I see Sykkuno and y/n there standing on me in caf., and I’m just doing my tasks, which I finished by the way, so I’m just going back and forth going to cams and just walking around to find any dead bodies. So if you saw cams on in the last 30 or so seconds it was me. I’ve also been fixing lights too! Peter and Leslie should be able to vouch for me on that! But on this round of lights I’m making my way to go help fix them when i see blood flicker in my little bubble and as it starts to get bigger I see Toast walking away from it. Its Toast. It is 100% Toast.” She locks her vote on him “Vote him please. If you don’t vote then you’re either imposter or just throwing”

“I don’t know guys” You start and hover your mouse over the green checkmark next to Toast’s name “I’ve been with Sykkuno the entire round and we did guard Hafu’s body. For Hafu to say that she saw Toast kill, but toast didn’t see Hafu kill? It just doesnt make sense so I’m voting Toast” You lock your vote in when Hafu reminds everyone that crew has to vote together since it is on six. Reminding Peter and Leslie that Hafu has been fixing lights got their votes, but Sykkuno was hesitant “You know I can never vote Toast guys, but I have been with y/n this entire time and I know it’s not her. So, I’m sorry Toast but uh” He locks his vote in for either Hafu or Toast? Who knows if he’s simping over Toast hard.

“Sykkuno?” You can hear Toast tremble his voice “Sy-sykkuno? Who did you vote for? Sykkuno!?!?! Do- Don’t tell me...did you really vote me?”

“I uh “ He clears his throat as the votes get out and all of us had voted Toast 

Toast gasps “Sykkuno!?! How could you!?!?!”

“I’m sorry! I just trust y/n!” Sykkuno explains as Toast’s body once again gets yeeted out into space. 

“Wow guys, looks like we’re gunna win our first imposter game!” You wiggle around happily “and we literally did nothing...wait we killed Rae! We got our revenge from the last round mwua hahahahaha”

Sykkuno and I run circles around each other before walking back into medbay. You can see Hafu kind of trailing behind and the doors get locked with us three in it, but Hafu is just standing there. “Chat what is Hafu doing? Why is she just standing there” You can see Sykkuno step on the med scan “Wait she wants ME to kill SYKKUNO! Oh god that is so evil lol but i’m so useless as imposter, so I might as well get in at least 25% of the kills” 

Once Sykkuno steps off you just murder him and you see that you had won.

“I- I can’t believe you just killed me!?! I trusted you y/n” Sykkuno exclaims

“Sykkuno” Rae sighs “she KILLED ME in caf! Why did no one NOT SEE MY CHOPPED BODY IN CAF!”

You just laugh “I’m sorry Sykkuno, but my chat was telling me that Hafu wanted me to kill you”

“Yea, cause I did like all of the kills and sabotages” Hafu recounts who and how she killed 

“Sykkuno, you giant simp. I can’t believe you vote me” Toast tsk’ed 

“I can’t believe y/n was the imposter! and she killed me!” Sykkuno shakes his head “you know what i’m no longer protecting you anymore”

“Wait Sykkuno I’m sorry. Really” You giggle 

“No no no it’s ok, it’s all part of the game” Sykkuno reassure you that he is not actually mad and that he hoped you had fun “But i wont be protecting you from now on, I have scars now”

So, you play a few more games before calling it quits and end your stream. Later on, you find that Sykkuno started following you on Twitter and Instagram, You totally did not stalk both of his pages and you totally don’t think that he’s cute.....

SideNote: You totally murdered someone in front of Sykkuno and he totally didn’t snitch on you. Instead he protected you as you ran around killing more people in front of him and like the giant Simp he is he totally went ‘I neva snitch on you Daddy, I hold a brick for you Daddy’.

[scatterpatter]

"Where's the essay OP" Said no one, and yet here I am

Lampy isn't stupid, he's neruodivergent: a rushed-together masterpost

Disclaimer: I'm not a liscened medical professional but I'm neurodivergent who's close to many neurodivergent people so I know when certain traits strike me as very familiar... Also tblt is my comfort movie I've seen it probably over 100 times, not exaggerating, so if anyone here's an expert on it, it's me.

I'm only going by the first movie because while To The Rescue and Goes To Mars probably have evidence to back me up, I don't feel like sitting down to watch them as I don't have them as memorized as the original

Point #1: Lampy is arguably the most intelligent appliance in the movie

Honestly it apalls me that so many are convinced that Lampy is an idiot when he displays some of the most intelligent traits in the movie. I'll just list off some of the most important scenes that show this

1: When discussing a way to get to the city, Lampy comes up with plans that end up failing, true. But we should also consider that not only did Radio and Toaster come up with bad plans before deciding on the swivel chair, but 2/3 of Lampy's ideas involved the same mechanic: on something with wheels(yes the mattress had wheels for some reason) being powered by Kirby

2: "From here you can see the really big lamp!" This scene is simply due to the appliances being sheltered from the outside world. Lampy displays the same level of naive-ness as everyone else: Radio seems earnest in calling the sun a "really big lamp", and Kirby calls the grass "shag carpet". Lampy is not at a lower intelligence in this scene, he's exactly at the same level as everyone else

3: The scene with the storm really sells his intelligence. The appliances have a rudimentary understanding of electricity, most likely from being appliances, but Lampy displays an excelled level of understanding by sacrificing himself for the battery. He understands that batteries are powered by electricity, lightning is electricity, and by using himself as a lightning rod, he acts as the conductive metal to easily transfer this energy from the bolt to the battery. Technically this should have overcharged and fried the battery but we'll suspend disbelief for the sake of this movie.

4: He knew that stacking the appliances to roughly human height, creating a dark environment with ominous sounds, and putting Toaster at eye-level to scare the human with his own reflection... Again, this is an intelligent understanding of how to scare a human

5: It's unclear on whose idea it was to look up Rob in a phone book, however this shows that not only can Lampy read(most likely picked up from being Rob's reading light), ESPECIALLY when Toaster struggles to read, but also has an understanding of phone books, addresses, and finding humans based on family names. I cannot stress how intelligent this is for a sentient desk lamp

There's a few more minor examples, but these are the biggest cases. Lampy is intelligent.

Point #2: Lampy struggles with social cues and doesn't empathize as easily as others

My biggest point here is when people think neruodivergents are "dumb" for having trouble picking up on things like sarcasm when that just... isn't the case. A few notable examples include:

1: When Air Conditioner says "You're a real bright little lamp", Lampy doesn't pick up the sarcasm and thinks he's being complimented. Though he definitely shows a level of emotional intelligence because he looks to Toaster to confirm "hey I was complimented", sees they're still looking angry, and gets the hint that he was insulted without someone needing to explicitly tell him that, to which he then responds with "Heyyy >:("

2: Sometimes he's able to read the room and pick up on tones, but other times he shows a level of emotional density. Legitimately not knowing if Rob had returned even when seeing Blanky disappointed to the point of near tears... But then knowing "brains wouldnt hurt either" was a jab at their intelligence and reacting with appropriate annoyance... But also when Radio says "Things could be worse!", doesn't realize he's just saying that to make Toaster feel better and asks "How could they be worse?"

3: He bullies Blanky alongside Radio and the others, unclear if he's actually being a jerk or just "oh this is what everyone else is doing so this is the normal way to act", but he's legitimately confused when Toaster tries to explain why they're suddenly being nice to him. He doesn't get the "now I feel better" argument because his argument was "Well you were never this nice to him before". Even when Toaster tries to explain why it feels nice, it just doesn't click... until Toaster finds a way to explain that connects personally to Lampy's own emotional state. He has trouble empathizing until realizing "oh this is like this thing that I feel sometimes"

4: Something I've noticed when gathering evidence is that more than once, Lampy goes "Wow..." After someone gloats about themself(Twice with Radio, once with the Computer). It's clear by the third time, when Radio goes "What does that mean?" And Lampy responds "I don't know. [To Computer] What does that mean?" That he doesn't even know what's being gloated about, let alone why he should be impressed. He has the emotional intelligence to recognize when someone's gloating and the "appropriate" response of amazement, but it seems like it never comes from a place of earnest. (While Neurotypicals can and do engage in "performative" behavior, I tend to notice this way more commonly with neurodivergents)

Also the "wow..." Performative thing is VERY reminiscent of Peridot from Steven Universe(a characters who many autistic fans see themselves in and the creator herself saying she doesn't consider Peridot or any of the gems to be neurotypical) going "wow thanks" as her default "this is how I've been taught to show gratitude" response

Point #3: Miscellaneous traits that could be neurodivergent

These traits COULD be interpreted as neurodivergent, but I will admit they could also be interpreted as something else so like take these with a grain of salt

1: Lampy appears to have sensory needs. When sleeping, he needs to tap a rock a few times(presumably to make sure it's "right") before clonking his head on it. It's interesting because rocks aren't a very "lamp" thing whatsoever, and none of the other appliances look for pillow-ish objects to rest on, so this could be a sensory thing.

2: Lampy has an interesting vocal quirk: repetition of phrases at the beginning and end of a sentence. Instances include "How exactly do you propose we do that, exactly?" "All of a sudden you're being so darn nice to him all of a sudden" "The fact is there's just not enough facts" The third one is a bit of a stretch but the first two seem to indicate a possible pattern of speech. Part of me wants to say this could be a verbal tic or some type of verbal stimming, but I've never met anyone who has a tic or stim like this so I can't say it's a neurodivergent thing with confidence, but I wanted to mention this quirk regardless.

3: Physically saying how he feels. Two instances where multiple characters are laughing, Lampy speaks while laughing "That's funny - I'm dying!" "I'm aching with joy!". It's just interesting that no one else speaks while laughing and for whatever reason, Lampy needs to verbalize "Yes I find this very funny" as if simply laughing along isn't enough. I've seen somewhat similar stuff in neurodivergents who have issues expressing emotions implicitly so they state them explicitly instead.

4: I've noticed Lampy isn't touchy... except with Radio. Some neurodivergent people can have issues with physical contact, which could explain that. But I've also noticed that Radio also gives me huge neurodivergent vibes... But more importantly Radio is extremely touchy with everyone, Lampy included, hence them often getting into physical fights but also just- tapping them or wrapping a cord around the other and pulling him close(they're so in love but that's a post on its own). A possible explanation is Lampy having issues with touching others, but either feels comfortable being touchy with Radio(due to emotional bonds and trust) or simply recognizes "Radio likes being touchy so I should be touchy back". A stretch of an argument, I'll admit, but I think the interpretation is there and valid.

In conclusion

I mean idk if Lampy was written to be neurodivergent or if the writers just wanted him to be "quirky" and accidentally gave him a lot of neurodivergent traits, but he reads as very neurodivergent to me(probably autistic or adhd but I'm not a professional and can't diagnose him). But while I can chalk up neruodivergency being one of many possible interpretations of his character, I WILL argue that he's not "stupid" given the evidence we see throughout the movie

Tl;Dr: Lampy is evidently intelligent, but sometimes struggles with social cues, empathy, and overall shows numerous traits of neurodivergency

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

picking it apart - spencer reid

spencer reid x reader

warnings: fluffy fluff and like one? curse word 😌 also final destination spoilers if you haven’t seen it? do i need a spoiler alert for something that came out 20 years ago?? idk

word count: 859

notes: this is a little segment i like to call flora watches 3 seasons of a show and thinks she’s qualified to write something true to the character but she’s gonna write it anyways

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

tonight was one of the rare nights spencer hadn’t been overworked into a nearly unconscious state, so you decided to make the most of it.

“wanna watch a movie?” you slid into his lap with a grin. you gave him a kiss, relishing in the deepness of it, but subtly using it as a tactic to get him to say yes to you.

he almost immediately gave in (of course) and got up to pop some popcorn. you were scrolling through the horror section on netflix, jumping when you heard his voice behind you. “you know, all these films have extremely vague titles that invoke the feeling that something’s wrong, therefore convincing the viewer to click on it to find out the relevance of the name.”

“thank you for the lesson in marketing, doctor,” you giggled. “now get your ass over here.” he took a seat and balanced the popcorn on both of your laps as you cuddled into his side. “hmmm, what are we feeling tonight?”

you continued to browse through your choices, finally deciding on one. “i think you’ll like this one, spence,” you muttered as you clicked on final destination. “there’s so much to analyse.”

  “i’ve analysed enough today, my brain is tired,” spencer whined, dropping his head onto your shoulder. 

you pouted at his statement. “aww, poor baby. this one should be perfect for you then, it’s pretty mindless.” you hit the play button, eager to get the movie started. 

the two of you laughed at some of the cliche teenager moments, but you could’ve predicted that when it came to the inciting incident, spencer would most assuredly have something to say. 

  “did you know 49% of all plane crashes are caused by pilot error? and that crashes are 95% survivable?” you turned to look at him, the orange from the flames on screen illuminating his features. 

  “no i did not,” you grinned. “but you’re gonna have to suspend disbelief if you want to enjoy these kinds of movies.”

the survivors of the plane crash lamented their loss as some new faces entered the room, two of them introducing themselves as fbi agents. “look, it’s you!” you nudged him playfully. 

  “wow, they definitely picked the coolest names to represent such a high profile government organization.” he murmured sarcastically. 

  “you’re right, spencer reid is a much cooler name, why didn’t they use that one?” you teased. he gasped in offense, crossing his arms and letting go of you. “hey, i’m kidding! i think you have the coolest name!”

  “alright, alright, you are forgiven, come here,” he sighed, uncurling his arms to wrap them around you once more. as the investigation played, you could practically hear the gears in spencer’s head whirring as he memorized the student’s statements. you were tempted to remind him he didn’t have to look at this like a case, but he seemed pretty invested at this point. oh well, that’s just a profiler’s brain, you thought. 

the parents of the survivors rushed into the room to console their children while some of their parents didn’t show up. you looked over to spencer to see a pang of remorse on his features, clearly sympathizing with many victims he’d seen before. “bub, i can skip this part if you want?” you offered.

  “no, it’s okay, i don’t want to miss a minute of this enthralling storyline.” he smirked. “it’s interesting, but i think it could’ve been thought out a little more.”

  “ooh, i didn’t realize one of your three phds was in cinematography, doctor reid! please, tell us more.” your giggles were quickly tuned out against his lips. with the cheap gore of the movie having become background noise, you indulged in the closeness of each other. 

the sudden sound of a train rattling across the tracks emanated from the tv, scaring you both apart with a jump. as you tried to calm your racing heart, spencer looked over to you with a knowing gaze. “wanna call it quits?” 

you nodded quickly, switching off the tv as the room became swathed in darkness. you stumbled into the kitchen, bumping your hip against the table as you blindly walked. 

  “you scared death personified is coming after you?” spencer cooed in an eerie tone. you scoffed and reached for the flashlight on your phone. “oh please, why should i be scared?” 

  “because horror movies trigger the fight or flight response which can often cause people to have nightmares.” he offered simply. you rolled your eyes, though you doubt he saw in the pitch blackness. 

  “how did i know you’d have a fact about that?” you mumbled, reaching for your doorknob. 

  “maybe you’ve somehow avoided death in the past few days and its working its way to get you, now!” spencer shouted suddenly, gripping your shoulders tightly.

  “what the fuck, you dork?” you squealed. “do not put those ideas in my head this late at night.” you flopped onto the bed, pulling your boyfriend down with you. 

  “no more talk, only sleep and cuddle,” you groaned, wrapping your arms around him. all was silent for a few minutes until:

  “you never know, though, the statistics o-”

  “spence!”

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

in case you were curious, here are my sources for any statistics/facts mentioned: planecrashinfo.com, businessinsider.com, bustle.com

also idrk who to tag and i’ve also never written for spencer before soo @sojournmichael @linguinereid

[foilfreak]

BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore’s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting’ and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

[spideymarvelws]

It Was Fun While It Lasted

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

A/n : this is kind of an alternate ending to endgame ig? a version where your a long lost child of thanos and Peter lost the gauntlet only to find it at the same time as you and plot ensues. Kind of the same thing with Clint and nebula but way further down in the movie. I just really wanted to write a villain reader okay leave me alone idk what im doing. also sorry for any inaccuracies i havent watched endgame is so long😭im just going off what i remember. 

Summary : Despite your life on earth, your life with the avengers, you’ve always felt like something was missing. You never felt that longing to save the people of the world, their wide smiles and thanks never satisfied you like it did everyone else. That was until Thanos told you about your true past, your true purpose.

To destroy the universe.

Warnings : cursing, betrayal, (ik we should just give Peter a break, but its for the plot im sorry) just pretty angsty so you’ve been warned

Word Count : 2.8k

Heavily inspired by this and this playlist on youtube

Peter Parker x GN!Villian!Reader

...

“It’s under all that ruckus,” Sam yelled through coms, flying over the fallen building he once called the avenger’s compound, “Can anyone reach?”

Peter webbed one of the aliens, using the makeshift leash to pull himself over the creature, knocking it into another one of his kind. His new spider legs retracted from his suit, helping him land gracefully on the floor quick enough to see the domino effect he just caused.

He quickly caught Sam’s words, looking up to see he was right outside the fallen building.

“I can!” he quickly said, flicking his wrist to catch on to a random flying alien, pulling it down to the floor as he took flight, landing on the top of one of the cracked walls. He swiftly searched for an opening under the rubble with the help of Karen tracking where he looked.

Suddenly a red light flashed from a cave like opening, giving him a small cheer at victory. As he crawled into the gap, some static came through his ear piece signalling that someone was about to talk.

“Good luck Kid,” Tony muttered into his ear followed by a loud blast as the comms cut off. Even with the rough cut, he could still feel the small smile making its way to his face.

Though there was a full fledged war going on that might decide whether everyone lived or not, all his young brain could think about was how cool it was to be fighting alongside every superhero he’s ever known, and more. If only he could go back to when he first got bitten, to tell his past self that at some point in the future he would be fighting alongside the avengers.

That he himself was an avenger.

It was crazy to think about. To think about how far he’s come that he was able to save the world and not just help some old lady cross the street. As thoughts continued to bloom in his head, he carefully crawled through all the debris, taking care that he didn't stick to parts that might take down the small opening.

Soon enough he found a clearing, what looked like a living room area judging from the couch covered in dust and the familiar stone pillars and plants. He detached himself from the ceiling, landing softly on the floor as he looked around the dirty room, moving away from the flickering wires that hung from the slanted ceiling.

He soon caught sight of something shiny and gold from underneath a fallen pillar. He punched his arm in the air, running to the object and carefully pulling the gauntlet out of its snug position.

“Found it,” he said into his comms, grunting as it finally released, sending him back slightly, “Coming out now,”

“I’ll meet you outside,” Tony said before cutting off once again.

Peter looked back at the opening determined, strutting towards the exit, his confidence growing with each step. A crunch of debris shook him out of his pride, making him stop in his tracks. He quickly ducked behind a piller, looking at the shadows shown on the wall opposite him with his hand ready to web whatever it was making its way into the cavern.

But as soon as he caught your silhouette standing in the shadows, he let out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as his muscles lost the sudden tension. He stepped out from his hiding spot to greet you.

“Oh thank god it’s you,” Peter chuckled, his hand falling to his side as he adjusting the gauntlet in his hand, “I thought it was another one of those alien thingies,”

You stayed silent, standing ominously with your arms to the side, twirling your gun slowly. He couldn't see your face hidden in the shadows, only the red glow of the necklace around your neck, illuminating details of your suit on your chest. He noticed how your body shook lightly, like a bomb about to go off. 

Peter chuckled nervously, tightening his hold on the glove.

“Is- is everything alright?” He said, taking careful steps towards you. 

He didn't listen to the voices in his head telling him to run, to get away as fast as he could. You were his friend, his partner in crime he liked to say. 

You would never hurt him.

You stayed silent a few seconds longer, the only thing proving to him that you weren't a lifeless manikin were your movements as you shifted from leg to leg. But he didn't think much of it, it was a scary time for everyone. Maybe you were just glad that he got the gauntlet and not someone from Thanos’ army. Maybe you were just glad to know he was okay after being separated.

“I’m sorry Peter,” you finally spoke up, your voice dangerously low, something he wasn't use to, “But I’m going to need you to give me that glove,”

Peter was taken back by your words, mostly still confused but also slightly worried at your words and sudden presence, “What! Why?”

“I can’t-,” you let out a harsh breath, “I can’t tell you why Peter, just give me the damn glove,”

“No, I-,” he let out a gasp when you raised your gun, aiming it directly at his chest, “Woah, woah, woah!” he held his empty hand up in defence, “What are you doing!”

“I’m getting that glove one way or another Parker,” you said harshly, your tone slashing at his heart, “So either you give it to me or i’m prying it off your dead corpse, you decide,”

Peter stayed silent, trying to process your sudden change in, well, you.

Only minutes ago, you were fighting alongside him, well what felt like minutes ago. He lost all concept of time when the army charged towards him, his main focus was getting that gauntlet away from Thanos and doing his job as an avenger. 

But you were there, using the same gun pointing at him now to blast the same aliens attacking him. That was until the land beneath you detached itself, creating a small floating piece of dirt that took you up in the air, taking you away from him.

He didn't have time to follow you when he got tackled to the floor, losing sight of you as you moved to the direction of Thanos.

That's when it clicked in his head.

But before he could question anything, his senses went off as he narrowly dodged the blast of your gun. With the distraction, you took the opportunity to lunge at him, knocking him to the floor.

“What did he do to you!” he grunted, throwing up the gauntlet and webbing it to the ceiling. Before you could jump for it, he tackled you to the floor, webbing one of your hands to the ground.

“He told me the truth!” you screamed, punching him in the nose with your other hand. He webbed that hand to the floor as it tried to reach out to your gun. He kicked away the weapon, webbing the rest of your body, making sure that you were secure, unable to escape.

He didn't want to, but you were unstable, not yourself. Whatever Thanos did to you, fucked up the person he knew, the person he loved and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He was determined to get you back.

“What do you mean ‘truth’? Do you hear yourself right now!” he said in vain, his chest heaving with every breath. 

You stopped struggling in the webs, making Peter question if you ever were. You only laid with a wide smile on your face that soon turned into hysterical laughter. Tears flowed freely from your eyes as you tried to catch your breath making Peter’s breath hitch.

“loud and clear Peter,” you managed to get out, your laughs calming down to little giggles.

“Then why are you doing this? Why did you attack me!”

You rolled your eyes, “You refused to give the what i wanted that’s why,”

“But why do you want it?” he said desperately, growing annoyed with your vague words.

“Why do you want to save the world?” you countered, “Because it feels good right? You feel accomplished? You feel needed, you feel useful,” you shook your head, “You feel like aching pain in your chest to do the right thing, to do what you think is right for the world” you paused, “So what’s so wrong in wanting to destroy it,”

“I save the world because it's the right thing to do Y/n,” he said seriously, disgusted that you would think of the possibility of destroying the universe, “You’re killing innocent people! You lived through those five years, you knew how devastating it was for everyone,”

“But i enjoyed it,” you cut him off, “I enjoyed watching them suffer, because- because i knew it was the right thing, what Thanos did- it was destiny. It was fate! But you fail to see that, you all fail to fucking see it!”

“See what! See what!” he shouted, trying his best to understand what you were saying because none of it was processing in his head.

“People don’t appear out of thin air Peter! I didn’t have a family or friends! I woke up in the middle of nowhere! Knowing nothing about myself and you people fucking took me in and USED me because of my skil!” you spat, “When i asked to find my real family you all denied it, you denied everything i ever said, i asked, you people did nothing for me!”

He started to back away when he noticed your hands begin to glow red, the webs around your body melting off your skin. Suddenly his hands became heavy, something cold clicking around his wrists, pulling him to his knees. He struggled, his muscles strained as he tried to break free but it was futile.

He let himself get trapped, he let himself get distracted.

What confused him more was your sudden power. You were known for your slick fighting skills and use of your guns and various weapons. Not powers that made chains burst out of the ground strong enough to withhold him even with his super strength.

Did Thanos do this to you? Is this why you turned to his side, because he gave you special abilities?

“But now, I know my true self, I know my purpose,” you continued, “I’m not a superhero Peter, maybe not by your definition. Saving all those people, using my powers for ‘good’ means nothing to me,” you stood tall over him, power surging through your veins, “cause guess what! It’s repetitive! People will always find a way to get hurt, to use people for their gain! Humans! Humans are a fucking waste of time but you all never saw that. You just saw the good not the evil,”

“Because that’s our j-”

“Because that’s our job, yes I know, but it's not,” you cut him off once more, “Who ever said that we need to protect people who can’t even help themselves? Who ever said we needed to have this responsibilities on our shoulders for something we can’t even control,” you pointed at him, “You never asked to be spiderman, sure the same can’t be the same for iron man or captain america but they choose that, we didn’t,” you sighed, “But none of you understand that, only-” you paused, “only Thanos does,”

“Is that why you're doing this? Because of something our enemy said,”

“Your enemy, not mine,” you smiled weakly, “He’s made more sense to me that any of you have, he showed me my true powers, my true self in the matter of minutes, something you all couldn't do in years,” your hands dropped to your side, “because he’s my family, he knows my true destiny the real reason why I was given my gift,” you gestured to the gauntlet, “And that’s to complete what he started, that’s why he put me on earth Peter, and I can’t let you or anyone ruin that for me,”

That’s when it clicked, “You’re his child,”

You smiled softly at his words, “I’m not a hero Peter,” your shoulder shook as you let out a tired laugh, “I’ve tried telling you this so many times but you-,” you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, “You just never fucking listened!”

Peter stayed silent, looking down at the floor in defeat. You knelt down in front of him, talking his jaw in your fingers to pull his face up, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“I never wanted to hurt you Peter,” you whispered, your eyes softening as you looked directly into his now dull, dirty browns.

“You already did,” he sneered, feeling no remorse for his words, “You did when you took his side, when you betrayed us, after everything we’ve fucking been through your side with a purple fucking raisin,”

You only sighed, your head dropping as you stood back up, stretching your back, “You’ll understand Peter, one day you will,” you began to walk back to the gauntlet, flicking your fingers to get rid of the webs, “To bad I won’t be there for that to happen,”

The shiny piece of metal fell softly into your hands, laying snugly in your palms. Peter watched with dread as your eyes glimmered with glee, reflecting all the colours of the stones, glowing dimly when it landed on the red one.

“How do you think it’s going to feel?” you said out loud, staring in awe at the gauntlet, “I mean I’ve felt the wrath of one stone but six?!” you chuckled, “I could only imagine what that must feel like,”

Peter only grumbled at your words, looking around for something, anything that might spark a light in his mind. That might help him to escape but he found nothing. You had the power of a fucking infinity stone running through your body, if he were to try anything you were sure to break him back down despite which stone you got your powers from. It didn't matter, you were still stronger than him in every way.

“Question is, should I put the glove on, then the stones? Or maybe the other way around? Should I do them all at once or individually,” you looked back at him with a mad grin, “The options huh?”

“You really are his child,” Peter grumbled, looking off to the side, “Sick and twisted, just like him,”

“See! You finally get it!” you said excitedly, throwing your arms in the air, “Glad to know we’re finally on the same page,” you giggled right after. 

Normally it would make his heart flutter, but now it only made him sick to his stomach.

“God, It’s just-” you took a deep breath, “I’ve haven't used my powers in fear of hurting others that- that I never even cared about! I just acted like i cared cause- cause that was my job right? That’s what everyone said!” you flicked your hands at the glove, morphing it into the perfect size to fit your arm right in front of his eyes, “Now, I could explore its limits, its full power without being thrown into some tacky jail in the middle of nowhere,” You grinned, “Isn't that exciting?”

You began to take out each individual stone, keeping them floating by your ideas, your eyes flickering from each one to judge it like it was a beauty pageant.

Peter looked at you ridiculously, “No, it isn't,” he took a deep breath, “Y/n, this isn’t you,”

You chuckled, fitting the glove on your hand snuggly as you raised the six individual stones further in the air, spinning them around you, “On the contrary,” you moved the space stone to one of the slots, groaning as its power seeping into your body, “I think this is most i’ve felt like myself in a while!”

He watched in horror as you put each stone in its individual departments, your smile growing wider and wider with each one. Your body began to float off the floor, the light emitted almost blinding him at how bright it grew.

“You don’t have to do this Y/n!” Peter shouted desperately, grunting as he pulled on the chains keeping him locked to the floor, “God dammit Y/n! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

You ignored his pleas, his words void of anything to your ears. 

“I’m sorry Peter,” you whispered, turning back to look at him with red glowing eyes, “But the villains just have more fun,” you cackled, breath heavy as the power of all the stones surged through your veins, making them pop with colour, “And I’m about to have the time of my life,”

With that, a bright white light filled Peter’s eyes, knocking him back against the debris, taking him out cold on the floor.

...

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[sapphicsaro]

24, 14, and 6 for the writing asks!!

6. What character do I have the most fun writing?

oh man this is a toughhhhhh one. i think my favorite thing i’ve gotten to write is olivia on the edible because we never get to see her just unhinged (literally every other fic i write is just so introspective bc she’s such a thiiiiiinker)

but overall character? it depends. i absolutely love writing flirty elliot, like xmas episode style bc that man is a frat boy who just really wants to makeout with olivia

olivia is great to write when im having a day because i feel similar to her character (or at least my version of her) so i get to spend the day processing her thoughts and it’s kind of cathartic

currently have a WIP thats a loooooong oneshot about noah and he’s fun to write as a lil sweetie

ig what i’m saying is each fic i have a diff fave to focus on depending on the story? if it’s happy, then it’s usually elliot bc i like him being all touchy and lovey towards olivia — if it’s angsty, i love me some olivia has to think about this and her “do i love elliot idk if i’m ready for this but he looks at me like that and i just wish he’d talk to me” phases.

guess i have no faves lmfao

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

oooooohhhh boy. right as i’m about to publish, and sometimes it’s the reason i don’t post right away lol

35 steps, a delectable disaster, trapped in an elevator, at her door, come home with me, three strikes, damaging the sun, here at the park… all popped in my head before clicking post! i don’t really have a method, just try to pick out something important in the fic that is the overall takeaway or theme

so 35 steps was a callout to the quote “35. It would take 35 steps for him to be in his (he likes to call it their) bedroom, open up the drawer where he kept all his gym clothes, find the red shirt that was torn, unravel it, and reveal the hidden ring he knew she did not want (yet).”

but something like “delectable disaster” is just fun because olivia is a flirty, but mess high lol

come home with me was SO hard to name for no reason (it was almost named clementine? but that’s being used for a oneshot i’m writing now!) — in my google docs it was called “kissy kissy” and trapped in an elevator was called “mom and dad hotbox their hearts rip”

so moral of the story, i just use a goofy name, write it until i know exactly what i want the reader to feel or remember about it, then try my best to make it fun lol

24. Would you say your writing has changed over time?

YUPPPPPPP. gd every single fic i change. that’s why fanfic is here! (well for some people)

it’s a great avenue for me to learn my voice and play around. fuck, i’m a script writer so the dialogue only ones are my faves but they’re hard fics to be read by people bc it’s such a different format. i literally think in forms of acting, so when it gets to narrative i legit have to write something, sit on it, reread it, fix it, and keep changing it until the picture in my head is painted in the words i feel the action as.

its fucking hard ngl. some people have this beautiful ability to describe things but it takes me time. i’m a visual person. i wish i could hook up a wire to my brain to depict things sometimes, bc i’ve legit had to act out the scene in my room to figure out how tf two people hold each other and a baseball bat lol

i love writing fanfiction, and i hope my writing gets stronger with each new fic. i never would say i was a bad writer, but i think everyone can improve!!

also not to get preachy, but im in a slump rn with writing and i need to hear this — write what’s ready to write and the rest will follow!! just get it down and you can play with it when you’re ready to!!

ask me anything (i have four WIPs and idk what to do with em lol)

[phoebehalliwell]

if you could give 3 positive and 3 negative personality traits to each of the next gen, what would they be?

ooh love it. okay. we know i talk a lot. A Lot. i’m doing this in waves. first set of siblings under the cut (wcm). 2.9k. ily!

wyatt i think it’s say kind bc like. he genuinely tries really hard to be a nice person. considerate which is kind of the same as kind but again he like. he knows the elders almost killed him as a little kid he knows there’s a world where he does go dark side and that does weigh on him, so he tries to put other’s feelings first as much as possible. and then third positive trait ummmm generous which again is kinda all in the same category but it’s like. like wyatt is insanely talented not just like as a witch tho he’s that too he’s also like really smart but he’s not a dick about it he’s one of those kids who’s always like i’ll help u with your homework! what r u doing after school later! like. he has a wealth of knowledge and he doesn’t just sit on it he likes to share. this is one of the reasons henry jr is also so close with wyatt because like. they both share this genuine love and interest in the study of like old magicks so to speak like. histories of witches and demons etc most classes the rest of the next gen honestly find kinda boring. on the flipside his negative traits would be like um a tendency to play by the book he’s a little too strict not because he necessarily believes in it but more again he wants to stay in line so as not to get you know. murdered or w/e. another negative trait is a i would say wyatt gets like way too overattached, especially in relationships, but it’s not limited to that. yes he’s a jump then fall guy & i’ve written about this before (multiple times), but i also think it’s the same with like innocents. like the fact of the matter is is that you literally cannot save anyone but wyatt has never and will never learn to accept that and i think he gets. he takes it real hard whenever he loses somebody and gets really pissy and closed off in the aftermath. a third negative trait is like. overprotective. like. in my writings he’s not the twice blessed anymore but he’s still wicked powerful, and he’s also like. the eldest. so he kind of feels this burden to protect his family. it doesn’t help that throughout their youth like chris ever the demon hunter always sought out trouble and leo who Really Didn’t Want To Watch Chris Die Again kind of always passed on whatever the mission was to wyatt. which, yeah, gave chris issues, but it also gave wyatt issues! because in his head, it really is his responsibility to handle these things for his family. and, yes, sometimes he can relinquish this power a little bit like not actively hover over his family while they’re demon hunting, but if he’s not you know. actively there, he’s either scrying or he’s sensing (if he can do that idk) and just. he’s got this feeling that anything bad that happens to his family is his fault. like he has this great power, so if someone gets hurt, like, he should have been there because he definitely could have stopped it. however, this energy kinda harshes everyone else’s buzz, which is why the other tend not to involve wyatt in their plotlines too much.

moving on to chris who just for the record i already wrote for but thanks to the beauty of this site i accidentally clicked the wrong button & now it's gone. so. take two! i don't remember what i said. okay so first trait i'm giving him is. i honest to god cannot remember what i said previously no wait that's a lie because i remember now because it was interesting. because i think chris is interesting, and i think that's a good thing. because like. i wouldn't describe him as likeable i would not say he has the personality trait of Likable™ because like. he doesn't. but people still really like him. because he is interesting. like they see him and go huh wow i wanna know what's going on there all in all i think people kinda gravitate towards him. but of course flipside i think he doesn't necessarily choose to become friends with everyone who approaches him i think he tends to be a bit picky just because you know he's so guarded so i think he has friends but no like. really super close friends. so like first negative trait is he kinda appears aloof because i mean. he's kinda gotta lotta issues you know and it's not something you can really easily explain to someone non-magical because magic is so deeply ingrained into who he is (which also adds to the aloofness because there are just certain topics he'll drop certain things he just won't talk about and its not because he doesn't care or anything it's just like. that's a really big reveal and rather that spin some elaborate web of lies i think chris just like straight up does the i can't tell you that bit, which makes him seem you know well like aloof kinda a little bit dickish). and then of course there's also like. like a lot of vulnerability involved in understanding who chris is he really doesn't have any middle layers nothing that sits between the surface mortal chris and the charmed chris with an inferiority complex it's either you know it all or you know. he just seems aloof. but again like. i think he's interesting. so much so that a lot of people are just kinda willing to look past that. so like. a lot of just external relationships. surface level. & then another defining trait of his on the positive side is clever. because like. he's smart. like i think he's a really skilled witch i think he's an excellent spellcaster and then like. i also think he can do math and stuff (in my fic he is a coder so like. yeah.) but i think it's kind of beyond just like Oh He's Smart i think it's the way he applies his brains applies his knowledge that really kind of sets him apart from the rest i think he really is clever. and then third positive i think chris is resourceful. i think like. i think he likes to have a sense of indepence away from his family because like. i mean he is a halliwell and he doesn’t shy away from that but at the same time he doesn’t really want to like. lean on that rest on well the thing is it’s not even his laurels to rest on. he wants to have this sense of independence and he’s actually p good at getting it. like i having him living on his own (so 2 speak, he has like. 4 roommates? i’m p sure) and yeah he’s not super great at it from just like. a living perspective you know but he’s making it i think like paying his own rent all that and yeah like the food he eats isn’t great and his room is kind of always a disaster but like. he’s made it p far i think a lot farther than people thought he could no disrespect. so i think he's really able to take what lifes gives him and make the most out of it i don't think he likes to coast by on others' accomplishments. which kinda segues into the second negative trait which i think you probably could guess he's overly-independent like independent to a fault. because like. i think he really wants to define himself with kinda comes in a two-fold way because like. okay in-family he wants to. okay so like obvi, there's a major drop off in power between him and wyatt. and i think he's always kinda been insecure about it think what on earth caused such a cosmic fuck up that he's just a telekinetic and then his brother is like. a baby god. so i think chris really feels this need to prove himself worth of a place in the warren line like cement his skills as and really say you know i deserve this title. and then flipside!! he really doesn't want to rely on titles you know he doesn't want respect because he's a charmed one or because he's a halliwell he wants respect off his own merits he wants people to know him by his actions not the legacy he carries. (also maybe gives reason for chris to occasionally use the name chris perry in the altered timeline??) and then. kind of building off that negative trait for his third one i'm saying listless because like. i think the crucial difference between the chris from the dark timeline and chris from the light timeline is like. darktl!chris has always had purpose. like yes it's a shitty purpose it's a burden it's too much to place on one boy but he is the last halliwell you know it's like basically all on him to stop wyatt from you know annihilating the world. (someone should probably tell him the cupitches exist in the dark future lmao) you know from like very very early on in his life darktl!chris has known he's destined for something big and honestly he might fail but he's gotta give it the ole college try because this is the world on his shoulders he's gotta put up a good fight for it. lighttl!chris literally does not have that. he does not have some grand, epic purpose, some monumental destiny to fulfill and like. what is he supposed to do, you know? why is he here? and he feels like he should have some epic destiny hmm well no not exactly he wants some epic destiny but he feels like if there were some epic destiny to be had it'd probably pass over him in favor for something better just like everything else in his life does. like why is he here? literally why is he here i mean okay so like disclaimer is that chris in my story is like. 20/21 and um. also a college dropout lmao haha and like. call a spade a spade we're probz looking at some undiagnosed depression here like give him a zoloft he'll be fine but like. chris feels like he's kinda on a raft in the middle of open ocean in a sense like. the best option is to pick a direction and paddle and hope he reaches land but he's literally in open ocean there are no markers no indicators he doesn't know where to go and like. if he picks wrong he's just heading closer and closer to nothing at all emptiness death whatever And There's No Way To Know Which Way Is Towards Land. and if he fucks up, like, he's screwed. shout out to all my early twenty-somethings. woot woot. but yeah. i think chris really wants a sense of purpose that simply put he does not have and honestly? will not be getting. i am not giving him a prophecy. i am not giving him a destiny. he will have to live with that. and, at this point in his life, i think he's doing a p bad job at that. lmao.

melinda!! baby girl. angel. honestly? i'm going to give her kind too because i think a large part of her just really wants to help people. i've previously called her the most-whitelightery of the next gen, & then also she is currently going to school with designs to become a nurse because like. she's also an empath you know and i think she definitely has aspirations to kind of mix her magical and mortal sides find a balance of both worlds and use her magic powers to enhance how she can better care for people in a mortal way. i'd also say she's really understanding. like, she's the third sibling to the wyatt-chris duo And she's an empath like. even if she doesn't get it, she gets it. like. things are complicated relationships are complicated like she can literally feel all sides of the story whenever there's a wyatt-chris-leo argument and like. what? is only one of them right? is only one of them allowed to feel the way they feel? no. she gets it. she all kinda understands where they're coming from. she understands. and then third positive trait she's really loving. like she's not a person who's stingy with her love (in a platonic sense. i think it a romantic sense it gets a lot more complicated because like. as an empath on the first date well it's just too weird man and it's. it's not like she can't keep her feelings sorted it's just like knowing exactly how they feel about her….. like it's weird. pass.) but i think she really like. i think she loves her family i think she loves her friends like. ❤. wow. on the more negative side i think she kind of like. self sacrificial. like she'll goes to the ends of the earth for the people she loves before she ever stops to think about herself. she doesn't. like she won't self advocate she won't draw a line in the sand when it comes to the ones she loves she fails to um. to see how sometimes her needs might actually be more important that others like. like if she loves you she will walk until her feet bleed. like. you have to be real careful because like. if you ask her to do something like she'll do it you can tack on that "but it's fine if no you don't have to" because if she feels your need to have this task done she'll do it. it's for love. but it's not good. (she will also extend this to non-loved ones again if she feels their need their like desperate need because at the end of the day she's a giver. hey kinda like the giving tree. i think she loves that book.) i also think she's just a shade naive and i kind of hesitate to use that word because like. i feel like it implies kind of a lack of worldly experience and like. melinda has seen a lot. but i think she like really does kind of see the world through rose colored glass i think she believes that people are intrinsically good and want to help each other and um. this can kinda tee her up for a lot of heartbreak and/or disillusionment with the world when kinda the reality is placed there right before her and it just kind of blows. i think it kind of hurts fresh every time. and then a third and final negative trait i think she like takes on too much, from an emotional standpoint, and doesn't really give anything back. kinda the same as self-sacrificial, but like with a twist. like, yes, as established, she has a lot of love in her heart, and she will take on her friend's emotional burdens (as well as any other burdens they might have for her) but then kinda gives nothing in return. she's a bit guarded in a sense. because again. this all comes back to the empath thing. kind of build on the dating thing. you really get live feedback on what exactly they think about you when you unpack, and like. melinda can't take that. she's too in her head on how this directly impacts their view of her and then she's just reading them and not focusing on her own problems you know like. like ladies if you've ever hit like. 1:30 in the morning at a slumber party when shit starts going from hehehe chetoh doost lasdkajldf to like. i don't think i could ever reasonably get married because divorce has really been the only constant in my life and i genuinely don't think i could trust another person enough to tie myself to them legally.? that's melinda's mcfuckin time to shine i think she does play therapist/peacemaker like a lot she likes it because again. she likes helping people! especially the people she loves!! but um. she'll never partake the other direction she really doesn't like getting vulnerable herself because like. you know if your friends are lying to you like you say something really personal and then cap it off with a y'know? and they all go yeah totally but you can feel them going what,,, the fuck. no?? like. like melinda could not take that it has not happened to her yet (probably) but she's come up with the hypothetical and she could not take that. this doesn't really extend to family just because she knows them so long like oh what chris thinks she's lame? okay. wyatt thinks she's overreacting? yeah i know what i've seen buddyboy. & then. for the record. neither or her brothers would never think she is lame or overreacting even If melinda is being lame or overreacting because they just like wouldn't they know her too well. but melinda's def the person who comes up with worst case hypotheticals in regards to her relationship/empathy powers like. all the time.

[beann-e]

um wow , idk what to say i’m a bit flustered but i hope i say it right. I was only gone for a couple of days and this is what I come back to. 😮 Tysm guys I love you all thank you for taking the time out of your scrolls to even follow me >:’) So, I decided to follow through on my haikyu x police force idea and here it is a sneak peek! I hope you enjoy !

May 1 , 2021

-recording take one

" I am under oath to tell you that everything being said here today will be used to further the investigation against yourself. That being said If you choose to answer a question or provide a statement I will have no choice but to write it down to be processed and turned into someone of higher authority than me is that clear "

" i'd say that's a bit — well stupid to me saying yes when your the highest fish on the food chain no? "

" what else can I say except lucky you that everything you say won't be passed around and relayed much less having your words twisted by those listening "

" cute "

" i'd say same goes to you if you weren't chained up in front of me right now — I might've just asked you out on a date "

" i'm free friday at 10 — though it's in the morning so I pose the question— Would you like to sneak me from my court case baby I promise i’ll make it up to you "

" mm i'll think about it seeing as though i'm the one escorting you to your new cell anyways we might just have to have a uh a talk inside hmm"

" what no balls ? "

" sadly none —or at least physically seeing as though i'm a woman "

" I never would've guessed if it wasn't for the way that suit hugs your curves — your pretty full out huh you must be fun "

" i've gotten that before though people tend to say i’m a bit more fun elsewhere "

" aw you wound me you didn’t tell me I had competition babe “

" of course not your first in line in my eyes, it sucks that the ring on my finger says differently though "

" isn't that sweet I might just have to take you up on your offer "

" oh? didn't think you'd be so excited ,much less interested on being the first one on my list to be put in jail but, I guess i'll try my best to speed your trial up for you if that's what you want "

The rooms silence was heavy as the camera panned the room. Your fingers silently being clawed into the table as it drained all your anger from you.

Your shoe tapping against the floor with a slight grimace appearing on your face when you heard the buttons on the camera in front of you being pressed.

" what no slick comment ? " A heartfelt laugh moved to fill the once silent room as you watched small hands wrap around the camera and fix it to where it showed nothing but your upset face—fingertips slamming down one by one on the table

" don't you have a fucking job to do glasses "

" aw what happened no more flirty y/n ? "

"your an asshole— I don’t know why I expected much in the first place seeing as though you were trained under him "

" such a foul mouth — you do know this is going on your transcripts right ? " the eyes in front of you narrowing on you the voice only coming out in mock care for your situation " you wouldn't want the jury — much less the judge reading this when their deciding your sentence right ? "

Your fingers glided over the table and into a fist in front of you as your head went to look down at the table

" you've grown submissive so fast "

" I find it hard to believe you don't like that kind of thing fucking pervert "

" aw you wound me — but if I had to supply you with an answer to your question— I can imagine your dying to know since you've been flirting with a married woman this whole time "

" married? "

" I know your observant y/n you have to be " the next words making you breathe heavily " I mean the way you noticed your s/o was cheating before they could even notice themselves is just wow"

The click of the door being heard as a deep voice made its way in the room " Kiyoko your not allowed in here "

" I have just as much right to be in here as anyone else — "

" but I could’ve sworn I just said you don't — so again why the hell are you in here ? "

The room turning cold with the woman in front of you straightening herself up not wanting to go back and forth with the male in front of her but, at the same time not wanting to come across as small, being seen as a woman down here was hard much less having your own husband be relatively close to the one in charge " I came down here to test out inmate 4890 psyche"

" did anyone give you that kind of permission? that kind of clearance ? to even get down here in the first place ? "

" I mean their hidden underground so i'd say their the main event down here "

" you can't just come down here to see it whenever you see fit "

" but I was interested in the way it's mind works "

" what the hell am I an attraction at sea world? "

" your whatever the fuck I want you to be " your once strong eyes were met with brown ones that held your gaze almost testing you— daring you.

You seeing the hate swirl with annoyance meeting to radiate off of him. His face made up in a snarl as he finally turned his whole body to you.

Arms crossed across his chest eyes now lazily focused on you causing a chill to move through your spine. Youd never wanted to grow submissive to anyone and you never had not in all your years of living so why were you now?

Kiyokos eyes moving from between you to the male in front of her and back. Her body already telling you she knew something was off by the way you'd just been playful with her until you felt the energy shift by someone elses approach showing how easily your personality could changed.

Something was off and she was interested

" if necessary I can always stay and play mediato— "

" your ok " he smiled widely " we're fine together — down here "

your body shifted in the seat wrists being pulled back and down to the table by the chain in front of you when you heard his claim.

" y/n ' s good with that — their fine ive known them a long time I can speak for them — we’ve done this before countless times this isn't their first crime maybe one of this stature yes but "

" mhmm " the woman in front of you shook her head lightly before leaving the room your heart clenching tightly when you heard the door click closed

" I just wanna do my job and then i'll get out ok y/n " the fake sympathy in his voice shining through as he put down his clipboard on the table before standing behind the chair at the table across from you

" god " his voice was heavy as he spoke " it's like you get hotter and hotter everytime we see each other " his body moving around the small rectangular table " it's such a shame "

Your body tensing when you felt him nearing you only to keep going past you.

Body letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding only to restore another one when you heard the click of the camera turning off and powering down.

Your eyes darting around the room to watch him out of the corner of them reaching up to turn off the corner camera that showed the police force what was happening in the room

Not that they would care seeing as though he was chief he could do anything he wanted to you and not have to tell anyone in his unit. It didn't help that you were a world renowned criminal now you'd fully fucked this up for yourself

" crazy how your fucked yourself over " his words only confirming the thought in your head " you were only into petty crimes before so I could barely get my hands on you i'd always have to pass you over to everyone else because no one of my status ever needed to intervene — though I would've loved to— just to feel the way your face would drop anytime I entered the room or to even feel the shift in your attitude like I felt earlier— holy fuck is that powerful and now look at you "

He laughed at your body that sat slumped in your chair trying to cover your face with the cuffs on the table " pathetically sitting in a room bawling your eyes out in front of me "

His words only feeling closer now as his breath hit your ear.

Heat from his mouth moving to your neck instantly causing you to scoot away only for him to grab the back of your neck " have you no respect for yourself "

You gritted your teeth together at his hold on you " I said have you no respect for yourself "

You bit at your lip trying to decide what to say you always wanted to spit a comeback at the male but right now was definitely not the time with his heavy hand on your neck moving slowly into your hair to grip tighter

"ah every single time we do this — it's almost even more pathetic than the droplets I keep seeing falling and landing on my perfect fucking table that I bought with company’s money— fuck their gonna cut my paycheck "

His hand tightening as he spoke again " one more time asshole " his voice held all the rudeness to it " have you no respect for yourself "

" y-"

The action was quick as he slammed your head hard into the table in front of you. your vision blurring before he sighed blood dripping from your forehead and leaking out of your nose onto your lips as it trembled slightly

" ugh I hate when this happens with you —- you always bleed so fucking easily " he huffed " I ask you something you answer learn something about respect for once in your life and maybe you'll take better care of yourself "

He scoffed " your so fucking pretty and yet you do things like this — you slut yourself out in my business and then turn around and get arrested god your such a fucking ditz "

your head being brought to meet the table once again as you whimpered tears mixing with your blood brain muddied and shut down by his actions

" i'm so tired — so so tired of sweeping everything you do under the rug— I mean you act like I can’t fucking see you y/n i run the whole fucking thing I don’t— I don’t understand you your just fucking stupid so so so stupid it just blinds me and throws me for a loop sometimes "

His voice was low almost as if he only wanted you to feel the weight of his words " and then you never even say fucking sorry " he pushed your head down again " i'm the fucking cleanup crew ,, the shitty bodyguard when you drag yourself in some mess ,, the contact list when you need a plug ,, the boss when you need a job i'm fucking tired y/n "

" I know I know and i'm— im so sorry really please i'm sorry "

you braced yourself for another push as he backed away the heavy hand leaving your neck as he peered down at your head that was still hovering over the table

" what the fuck do you want another bash ?What are you doing "

" no — no please no”

" then bring your head up — god you seriously take your role on as the youngest dont you " he sighed as he moved his hands to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Your eyes darting to the camera kiyoko left and feeling hope enter your body thinking of how she would see the whole scene that’s played out with the male in front of you

" your not staying here "

" what—what "

" you can't — I dont want you here— i’m outta this your not my responsibility anymore your 19 now so I don’t know what to say except get it to fucking gether — you stay here your never gonna go to jail you'd just stay in a confined room for moths — fuck i’m always getting dragged in this shit "

" how — what do I do — what am I gonna do "

" the hell do you mean ? what am I gonna do ? as if the shits not obvious your gonna do fucking nothing while everyone else does all the work for you again "

your voice grew quiet as he scoffed " that's what I thought god — one day i'm gonna get fired "

your eyes darted to the camera and back down " for what exactly "

his eyebrows creased as he stared at you eyes moving all around your face before he spoke ignoring your question " you got yourself in some real bad shit this time y/n "

" but it wasn't even my fau— "

" you don't say shit — you know it wasn't suppose to go down like that and when one goes down we go down together you swore it— that’s how you got our trust don’t fuck yourself over again or you’ll be down in hell by yourself "

" like what ? "

" don't fuck with me y/n "

he moved to grab his clipboard your body lifting when he walked off and forgot about the camera only to drop the clipboard to the floor with a loud clang and start using his shoe to tear the papers apart

" wh-what are you doing " your voice came out soft as your eyebrows creased

His body moving over to the table and throwing the camera youd just put all your hope into someone seeing what you went through being thrown to the ground and stepped on harshly with the heel of his shoes.

Though it wasn't broken broken it was unsalvageable and couldn't be fixed your eyes going wide unable to process anything before he walked to the door and opened it his hand coming up to cup around his mouth

" THEIR ATTACKING " he screamed your body trembling at the way the table shook along with it " calling all units anyone in the vicinity the inmate I am locked up with is having a tantrum of some kind and I do not think I can handle it alone "

Your heart broke as you watched the male in front of you turn back to look at you holding nothing but hate in his eyes " I ask that you help me remove the inmate and get them out of our station immediately "

Several people running in cleaning up the scene and taking pictures before someone uncuffed you and dragged you towards the tall male by the door.

" Chief where do you want em "

" I want em on the next bus to tokyo "

Your head swirling " wh— "

" everyone exit while I talk to the inmate quickly alerting them of their next adventure " everyone moving silently to follow his demands his eyes going directly to yours as everyone raced down the hallway and away from you two

" your going to tokyo — I can't fucking do this — "

" but what would I do there's no one "

" go see bokutou — at this point you've pissed me off I can't do much else for you just — go ask for a new life really " his voice came out in a short laugh at his ending words

" boku— "

" y/n I said i'm pissed off and done with you — you keep interfering with my job and honestly this murder charge was the last strike for me— your of age now I can’t get you outta this shit— so if you could just get a new identity and get the hell away from me id seriously appreciate it "

" daichi I "

" you don't say anything "

" your my — your my brother we’re suppose to be there for each other and you "

" i'm not your anything as of right now you prick " his voice was sharp and held meaning as he snapped at uou " not your brother — your friend — your back up call when you get into weird shit I — I wanted to be a nice police officer and move my way up to chief I wanted to have kids a — a family y/n " he scoffdd " not a shitty sibling who keeps using my job against me and has me pulling strings that shouldn't even exists "

" but "

" you see how I keep cutting you off it's because I don't want to hear you y/n — you annoy the fuck out of me so seriously " he moved his shoulder to glide through the doorframe and past you "just go do what you criminal assholes do and get a new identity and the fuck away from me as soon as possible I want nothing to do with you "

" sooooo thats how you ended up with me " the air in the new room shifted from confusing to happiness as the dual colored male in front of you screamed " THATS AWESOME YOU HAVE SUCH A BADASS BACK STORY "

He jumped up and covered his face dramatically before he spoke "twas a dark night when y/n changed their ways and gave birth to a criminal — a murdering criminal who came to the one and the only — bokuto koutaro the amazingily cool , strong , funny , king of connections — thus creating a beautiful friendship and a dark and powerful villian story "

He smiled at your beat and battered face youd received from your brother a day ago before he spoke again his hair drooping slightly " too much ? "

[quirklessidiot]

aoba johsai’s sport’s journalist (h/c’s)

just crack+ fluff + platonic-ish relationship (gn!y/n) (w: language!) a/n: this has been bugging me for awhile now since i havent seen headcanons of this yet (if their are do send them on my ask box) and since im on a slump, i decided to write this down. this is completely fun, easy-going, and self-indulgent, really perfect for someone stuck on a slump ksks. idk if i should make some for the other schools but oh welp enjoy! happy 900 btw werkwerk uwu so weird to reach this when im not even very active.

Now let’s be honest here, it’s no surprise that the volleyball team of aoba johsai has their own sports journalist. Like, c’mon, they’re one of the best in the prefecture.

But let’s start with the basics here, shall we? Let’s start with you, how this all goes through, and how you got into this heaping pile of mess.

Yep, you.

There you were in high hopes to get into journalism for college so what better way was it than to apply for the school paper? It would definitely look good and pretty in those college applications *chef’s kiss* you’re a second year btw idk if that matters but yeah..

Much to your surprise no one was applying for the news section which was kind of sad since you wanted a buddy there.

but-but it turns out though everyone was applying for the sports section completely understandable, next to feature, it was the most exciting thing to write because there was going to be a special section and writer for the volleyball team.

You knew that volleyball was kind of a big thing around your school?? you just didn’t expect it to amass like that much people.

The editor in chief is obviously surprised, you were the first person on that day to come in there and actually apply for something else.

and guess where that led you to?

Yep, the sport’s section, specifically the volleyball team’s personal sports journalist. Your brain goes brrt brrt because you were not a sports writer at all and you were, ironically, scared of ball games.

VOLLEYBALL WAS COMPLETELY NEW TERRITORY FOR YOU.

Your editor in chief laughs it off and says, “you’ll do fine… its like news bUT SPORTS! IT’LL DEFINITELY LOOK GOOD IN YOUR APPLICATIONS!”

You’re not sure if you should be terrified or terrified?

It doesn’t help that on the first day when you enter the gym you look terribly constipated and panicking a lot because of all the stray balls being spiked and tossed around.

It also didn’t help that you crash course the terminologies and the member’s name a night before and you were just running on iced coffee that day.

Yeah, way to make a first impression, huh?

When you approach the coach, you’re not exactly sure what to say and you were this close to chickening out until you saw one of the players come up to you and ask if you were alright and if you wanted to talk to oikawa.

you’re loading for a second there.

and the poor guy who asks you if you were alright, starts looking actually worried because you weren’t responding at all.

“OH, oH IS THAT THE CAPTAIN?”

the guy literally looks very confused?? because what kind of rock were you living under that you didn’t know Oikawa???

so you go ahead and introduce yourself and say that your name was Y/N and you were the new sports journalist for the team.

“....soooo you write?”

“...”

at this point on, you’re also confused too

and idk man, first impressions do indeed last because you ended up (unknowingly) sharing the same brain cell with Matsukawa Issei.

you both were just confused there, straight up looking like two kids who got left behind by their mom in the grocery check-out line.

anyways...

He tells you the team’s pretty chill and you should stop looking like they spiked a ball on your puppy or something.

Basically introduces you to the whole team after, 

no questions asked, just go with the flow.

You basically just click and vibe???

Not only because you crash coursed and related to whatever they said, 

you literally all shared the same brain cell together.

Kentaro was another story though, kid basically hated your guts at first, it felt like if you were to say one sentence to him that day, he’d literally spike a ball at your direction.

“we’re basically the same year tho :(” -Y/N

“lmao well do i’ve got news for you, y/n-chan.” - Oikawa and basically everyone on the team.

you gradually start to understand the coolness of the sport since you had to incorporate visiting them once or twice a week during practice.

but suddenly it becomes almost a daily routine after a month because they’re just really friendly people??

like wow, they’re all friendly giants.

You’re literally just there to write about them but they’re really patient and kind, they even invite you to practice games so that you could practice out your skills in writing since you mentioned that you’ve never written for sports yet.

they even give you some added key terms that aren’t found in books and online.

you’re def closest to iwaizumi and matsukawa.

iwaizumi because he makes really funny fish jokes about oikawa (yes you arent supposed to be laughing but man theyre funny af, oikawa would usually call you and iwa corny because the jokes aren’t even that funny) and yes its canon that whenever iwaizumi sees an oikawa fish in textbooks, he starts laughing and joking about it.

no explanation needed why you ended up being close to matsukawa.

its obvious after that first meeting ya both would be besties.

same brain cell bros go brrt brrt.

incredibly!! supportive!! I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH

like when you release a new write up about them, Oikawa would usually go, “It’s such an honor to be apart of your first steps, can you sign this?”

dramatic but hella supportive, we stan the gr8 king

“oh, wow, i thought you said you didn’t write before? how come you sound like a professional already?” - Hanamaki 

another dramatic best boi.

akira + kindaichi getting shy because they’ve never experienced this yet. So whenever you try to interview them about stats or something for a special issue, they usually end up a stuttering mess

“w-well, L/N-san...”

kentaro slowly warming up to you but still looks like he wants to spike a volleyball at your face 90% of the time but unlike before you’re used to his whole thing already.

“Move, extra.”

“You were great, by the way. That was a powerful spike!”

you may or may not be included in random ramen nights with the team

yes, oikawa buys you your own bowl of ramen

itadakimasu.

he doesn’t mind tho, he really loves how you write them. 

so its sort of a thank you for giving the team justice when you write about them.

team says you’re technically part of the team so they make you your own jersey. Now when you watch your games people ask if you’re like the manager or smthng.

“ no :’) “

When they lost against shiratorizawa and karasuno, you were bawling too like you were apart of the team.

this pretty much cheered everyone up despite the loss because your crying face was apparently very funny and memable.

oh right, your article was passed on to the town’s newspaper

it was literally like 7 am on a saturday and your notifs went zoop.

they added you to their group chat and spammed you with pictures of the articles that you wrote.

“...wOW I CAN’T BELIEVE IT?? YOU GOT FRONT PAGE FOR SPORTS???” -Oikawa

“we didn’t even win the tournament but we still get a feature?? thats so cool?? holy shit?? CONGRATS KSKSKS” -matsukawa

lmao idk matsukawa looks like a keyboard smasher tbh idk why

pretty much its normal for you to even start hanging out already outside of the court and after practice to get steam buns.

more chaotic mess and clumsy you running around.

your volleyball sports writing experience wouldn’t be complete until someone accidentally spikes a ball at the back of your head amaright?

ironically, it’s yahaba who does that to you. poor smoll bean.

“wow, you’re dumb.” -kentaro says to you

“ :’)” -you.

“y/N-SAN I SWEAR IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.” -yahaba 

overall, you found yourself in a safe haven with the volleyball team and yes, you also cried when the third years graduated. 

the third years have a picture with everyone on the team + you with a very red face from all the crying?? once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a meme.

continued to write for them up until graduation.

and its def obvious you kept in touch with all of them after, duh.

[lovelylogans]

so idk if requests are still open for wyliwf but i’m a sucker for dee in aus and it seems like he gets a bit of redemption before the most recent oneshot. If you feel up to it, i’d love to read something on that

debutante

part of the wyliwf verse.

chapter one | next chapter

notes: this ask was sent right after odds are! look, i know i’m overlooking several of the rules of the debutante ball, but honestly, so did gilmore girls, so. source material, here.  i hope this can serve as a distraction for some of you today—please go out and vote if you are able and if you haven’t already! also happy birthday logan!!!

A debutante or deb (from French: débutante, “female beginner”) is a young woman of aristocratic or upper-class family background who has reached maturity and, as a new adult, comes out into society at a formal “debut” or possibly debutante ball. Originally, the term meant the woman was old enough to be married, and part of the purpose of her coming out was to display her to eligible bachelors and their families with a view to marriage within a select circle.

or: logan wants to dismantle the cis-heteronormative patriarchy with his bare hands and teeth if necessary, roman delights in dresses, virgil fucking hates tuxedos, patton’s really proud of his son, and dee thinks those sanders’ might not be so terrible after all.

⁂

“i need a dress.”

patton blinks, glancing up from the kitchen table where he’s organizing his notes for midterms for his business degree. bright side, last set of midterms patton would ever have to take! dark side, midterms. “just, like, generally, or…?”

the slight attempt at a joke dies when he catches the look on logan’s face—clenched jaw, eyes flashing—and he sets down his papers.

“i’m coming out,” logan continues.

“kiddo, you did that when you were about eight,” patton points out. “remember? i said i loved you and i was proud of you and i’m so glad that you trusted me enough to share that moment with you and thank you for telling me, and we went and got ice cream at lucy’s, and then you tried to use the whole sentimental thing to get me to ask out virgil because you were supposed to have a positive gay role model in your life, as if us being separately gay wasn’t enough in this town whose main tourist attraction is its rich history, from the times of our founding fathers to the times of pride.”

patton’s quoting the most recent town brochure, here.

“no, dad,” logan says, and arches his eyebrows significantly. “i’m coming out.”

the double-meaning clicks in his head.

“no,” patton says, hushed—he isn’t sure if it’s in awe or horror. “like—like, debutante coming out? or, um, wait, like—like—?”

“the male equivalent is a beautillion, and no, i mean like debutante coming out,” logan says. 

patton pauses, waiting, but logan says nothing, until patton says, “kiddo, either your attempts at trying to push this information into my brain via telepathy aren’t working or my brain’s too fried from midterms to catch the implications of what you’re saying, i’m gonna need more details than that.”

logan drops into the other seat at the kitchen table, huffing out a slow breath. 

“you remember dee.”

“your former rival turned weird allies that are still sometimes rivals, yes,” patton says. 

“who came over to our house once.”

“for the gsa poster-making thing?” patton says.

“right,” logan says, and arches his brows, waiting for patton to catch on.

“when… he mentioned he was also trans?” patton elaborates.

“right,” logan says. “i think dee’s parents are trying to out him, because they informed him of their intentions to sign him up for the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball.”

a cold feeling crawls uncomfortably in his stomach.

presenting him to society. a debutante ball. undeniably, harshly female. one of the main benefits of the timing of patton’s coming out had been so he wouldn’t have been a debutante—the very concept of doing that had given him this exact same cold, crawling feeling.

“dee gave me about five separate explanations as to why, of course, so i don’t particularly know why they’re choosing to out him now,” logan says briskly, “but i have a plan as to how that’s not going to happen.”

“you’re… going to be a debutante,” patton says slowly.

“well,” logan says, and fishes out a piece of paper from his backpack. “hopefully, not just me.”

FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY, the title screams in huge letters, then subtitled with Become a debutante or an escort today! Why should women be the only ones who have to go through this? Be a better feminist and put on a dress, if you’re a boy, or a tux, if you’re a girl, and if you fall outside of the gender binary, the choice of debutante or escort is up to you. Contact Logan Sanders for more details. there’s two copies—one blank, and one with an already modest list of names. which is probably to be expected, debutante balls were a big deal at chilton, except the usual names that would be listed under escorts are listed under debutantes, and vice versa.

“dermot, tristan, brad, henry, roger,” patton reads off, slow, and then he looks up at logan. “and madeline, lem, lisa, summer, and ivy.”

“well, it’s hardly fair that girls have to go through all this primping and glamming up just to be seen as presentable to society,” logan says briskly. “boys should come out into society, too.”

“which is your cover story,” patton says slowly, putting it together. that cold, uncomfortable feeling is turning into a warm glow that’s turning up the corners of his mouth.

“right,” logan says. “if a group of boys will show up in pretty white dresses, all very serious about their intentions of being presented to society, with their escorts of girls in tuxes, then—”

“then everyone will think dee is part of the ploy.”

“exactly,” logan says. “his secret is kept under wraps and no one has to know.”

 patton leans abruptly over the table to wrap logan up in a hug.

“hey,” logan complains, but patton just squeezes a little tighter.

“you are,” he says, choked up, “such an amazing friend, kiddo.”

it sounds like something he and christopher might have done as a prank back in the day—christopher in the dress, patton in the tux—but this—this—

patton lets go of him, grinning hugely. “i am so proud of you.”

“so you’re okay with it?”

“okay with it?!” patton laughs. “you’re protecting your friend from getting outed in a way that would be very embarrassing and schooling high society about how weird it is that they still present their daughters like they’re cattle for purchase! of course i’m okay with it!”

“so, dress?” logan asks, and honestly, patton’s just about ready to grab his wallet and haul logan to the finest dress store he can find, before logan continues, “if grandma still has it, we could probably steal the one she was intending to use for you from the cellar.”

that cold feeling is back. “ah.”

logan blinks. “what?”

patton sits back down. “i forgot about your grandparents.”

“what about—?”

patton chews at his lip. “mom’s a part of the daughters of the american revolution.”

“why does that matter?” logan says, and patton sighs.

“oh, you know by now that things work differently in grandma’s world than ours,” patton says. “just—i definitely support your right to do this, but just… know that if a fight comes out of this, i will not regret it or back down, okay? i’m always on your team.”

“well, i know that,” logan says, like it’s obvious, which, fair, it probably is, or at least patton hopes so, it’s his job as a dad to be on his kid’s side. “i’ll bring it up at dinner on friday, we’ll see how it goes over then. they’re less likely to yell at me.”

“it’ll just be us and grandma, your grandpa’s in… i think copenhagen?” patton says, considering, and waves a hand. “some historical city across an ocean, anyway, and virgil’s working.”

virgil is almost always working on friday nights. it’s only partly because he owns the diner, but it’s also because, well. friday night dinners. patton doesn’t blame him for avoiding them—even with the buffer of a couple months, it’s not exactly an easy relationship between him and patton’s parents.

“well, that’ll be something,” logan says briskly, then stands. “i’m going to go put one of these sheets on sideshire high’s bulletin board.”

“good call, a ton of kids here would want to crush heteronormativity and an excuse to wear a pretty dress slash tux,” patton says. “i’m betting you’re gonna ask roman?”

logan looks like he’s trying not to flush, and he adjusts his chilton jacket. “he’s the one letting me in. he’s still there for cheer practice.”

“ahhh,” patton says, only a little teasing. “well, let me know what your plans for the afternoon are, it’ll probably be virgil’s for dinner tonight, ‘cause,” and he lifts up a sheaf of his papers for emphasis.

“isn’t it always?” logan points out, and, with that, he departs.

“my little baby, off to destroy people!” patton calls teasingly after him, grinning, so proud he feels like he’s about to burst.

“i’m destroying the cis-heteronormative patriarchy!” logan calls, and then there’s the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

patton’s going to take him on a trip to bookstore and he’s buying him everything he wants.

⁂

“granmè, i’m home!” dee calls, dropping his backpack at the door and hanging his bowler hat on the coat rack.

“hello, mister slange.”

“nanny,” dee acknowledges. he’d address her by her first name, if he knew it. he admires that about her; it’s something they share.

nanny soledad used to be his nanny, back when he’d needed such things; she’s from the dominican republic, which his parents thought was “close enough” to being haitian that it would be enough to help him adjust. which is accurate enough geographically, but not culturally. honestly, he’s surprised his parents even bothered to look as far as geographically. 

but now he is too old for such things, and his grandmother’s memory problems are growing more and more apparent by the day, so nanny had made the transition from the ancestral slange manor to the slange family townhome, where his grandmother evelyn lives.

the townhome is a bit run-down, in comparison with the manor; no multiple wings, no murals on the ceilings, no precisely selected statues in the alcoves. instead, the townhome is a conglomeration of furniture collected by the family over the years; all of it high-quality, expensive, but almost none of it matching, with persian rugs thrown down over almost every hardwood surface, armchairs cluttering the spare corners, paintings hanging dilapidated with no rhyme or reason to their collection. it feels a bit squashed and claustrophobic, sometimes, with its dark woods and narrow hallways and secluded rooms, in comparison to the aggressively, purposefully airy nature of the manor with its open floor plan and silver accents and crisp, neutral colors.

the townhome is closer to chilton, so dee had reasoned to his parents that there was no reason to keep using too much gas to have him make the commute home every night. his parents, frankly just happy to have him out of their hair, had acquiesced swiftly.

well. they tended to like him out of their lives, until they needed him for something. until he needed to act like a doll. dee pushes those thoughts away; he’s thought about it quite enough today.

so dee and his snakes and his clothes were stationed in one guest bedroom, nanny and martha in the others, and dee would return to the ancestral home on weekends and long breaks. it would stay that way for as long as he and nanny could get away with it.

especially with the latest developments. dee suppresses a shudder at the way he’d handled himself earlier in the day, and instead turns his attention to nanny.

“where is she?”

“your grandmother’s in the greenhouse,” nanny says, then, seeing the look on his face, “not gardening, you know i would be supervising if she were.”

“the azaleas are in bloom,” dee acknowledges. “she does like the azaleas.”

“that she does,” nanny says, and falls into step beside him. “i’ve had martha gather some cuttings sent up to her room. bertie is out running errands, but he should be back in time for supper. ingrid will be in later for dinner and should be sticking to the menu, unless you have other requests. it’s lobster linguine tonight.”

“all fine,” dee says, and winces to himself at how distracted he sounds. he needs to stop thinking about it. he needs to focus on the now. the present. thinking about his parents’ ultimatum looming over his head would do no good right now.

“now, she’s taken her medicine for the afternoon and requested some tea. would you like some as well, perhaps a snack?”

“whatever she’s requested will suffice,” dee says. “thank you, nanny.”

nanny nods, and departs for the kitchen. dee continues through the house, to the backdoor, and into the greenhouse.

greenhouse is a bit of an exaggeration. it’s really more of a solarium that’s been overcrowded with pots and planters, in addition to the gardens outside. there’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and the room is overwhelmed with wicker furniture. it’s calming, in here; to say that there’s a lot of earth tones would be an understatement, and the light filters in gold and tangibly warm. 

it’s the most open-air part of the house, but less like the manor; if the manor was like some renaissance painter’s imagination of heaven, all pearly white clouds and soft pastels, this was an impressionist painting’s portrait of a landscape—plants and woods and life, verdant and vibrant and vivid. 

the greenhouse is also the warmest room in the house, which he’s sure is part of why it’s his grandmother’s favorite. dee’s already moving to shed his capelet and gloves; if he doesn’t, he’ll get disgustingly sweaty.

his grandmother is sitting in her favored rocking chair, seemingly not having heard him open the door. her reading glasses are perched on her nose, about to slip off, and she’s deeply absorbed in her book.

“hello, granmè,” he says in french.

that makes her look up, and she smiles at him, reaching out her hand.

“hello, my sweet,” she says warmly, and he reaches out and squeezes her hand carefully—he has an irrational fear that one day, if he forgets his strength, if he squeezes too hard, he’ll snap the delicate little bones in her frail hand easier than blinking. she switches to french. “did you have fun at school?”

he scowls, settling in the rocking chair beside hers, separate by an end table that’s teeming with books. “it’s school, grand-mère.”

“that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun,” she says. “did you learn anything interesting, at least?”

that logan sanders is just as unsurprisingly terrible at comfort that one would expect?

instead, he says, “we’re supposed to start reading sula for homework today.”

she brightens, as he knew she would—his grandmother adores all things toni morrison—and they begin talking about books, and other works by toni morrison, and their favorite parts of said books, which eats up the better part of the fifteen minutes it takes nanny to deliver the tea tray to the greenhouse.

“thank you, nanny,” evelyn says, still in french. nanny nods—she’s fluent in spanish and portuguese and english, not quite in french, but she knows enough to get by in a conversation—and withdraws from the room without a word.

dee swiftly takes the teapot before his grandmother can attempt to pour it herself—her plus a heavy pot of near-boiling water was a hospital visit waiting to happen—and switches to english, saying, “would you mind plating some of the battenburg for me, granmè?”

“as long as you have a crumpet,” she says. “you’re a growing boy, noodle.”

“yes, yes, fine,” he sighs, pretending to be put-upon at both the pet name and the insistence of somewhat healthy eating. “a crumpet too, then.”

he fixes her cup as she likes it—two sugars, a splash of cream—and trades her teacup and saucer for a plate of snacks before he works on making his own tea and she arranges her own plate. he notices that she has reached for none of the savory options, instead opting entirely for sweets.

dee hides his smirk in his tea. 

they continue chit-chatting about all kinds of things as they work their way slowly through tea, a holdover from his english grandfather. even though grand-mère’s french, she’s too fond of teacakes and snacking in general to really do away with it, even nearly two decades after his passing. they talk about the azaleas (yes, they look exceptional this year) running the household (bertie was going to visit his grandchildren next week, yes he’d make sure bertie would pass on her hellos, yes he’ll manage fine without him, it’s not like nanny and martha and ingrid won’t be here) and his academics (yes, he thinks the semester’s going well.)

they talk about everything except the thing that’s weighing most heavily on his mind. 

she might not know. she might not even remember.

dee pushes that thought away. once they’ve finished their tea, he excuses himself to do his homework, leaving her to her book and her admiration of the lilies, and nanny smoothly institutes herself in his chair, with the guise of a magazine to make it seem like she wasn’t supervising his grandmother.

dee picks up his capelet, gloves, and backpack on his way up to his room. back at the manor, he has a whole wing, but here he just has his room. it suffices.

he sits on the bed, briefly, in sight of the full-length, gilt-edged mirror, to sweep the capelet back around his shoulders and ensure that it’s sitting on him properly; he could probably get away with taking off his binder, as he’s home and they aren’t expecting visitors, except he very much does not want to do that right now. he pulls on his gloves, covering his vitiligo-ridden left hand first; his dermatologist swears his particular case is segmental, which typically doesn’t expand with time, but it feels like it has been.

but then again, it is just his left side affected. so. perhaps the woman who’d been to school for twelve years and was a specialist in his particular condition was right.

dee toes off his loafers, debating crossing the room and entering his walk-in closet to store them properly on the shoe rack, but decides against it—the singular item of clutter makes his room seem a little more lived-in.

it’s not that he doesn’t like his room here; they hired decorators to redo it back when his grandmother moved in and he started spending more time here, years ago, so the walls are a subtle shade of gold, with an accent wall plastered with an art-deco black-and-gold theme was behind his bed. his bed is massive and plush. everywhere he looks, things are black, gold, and white, in that order of frequency.

it’s just not very… well. lived-in.

his room at the manor house is worse, though. just about the only thing he likes there is the aesthetic of the gold. the chandelier and tufted wall and personal tv and absurdist decor that screamed “this is too expensive for you to even look at!” he could do without.

he might have to look at it all the more, soon. he’s dreading it.

“homework,” he reminds himself, “homework.”

he makes a beeline for his desk, where his snakes are settled in their vivarium, all lazily sunning themselves under the heat lamp, tangled together in a loose pile.

“layabouts, the lot of you,” dee informs them. luke, leia, and han do not seem to care.

dee settles at his desk, getting out his agenda, his books, and his notebooks. he gets out his favorite pen and sits, ready to get started on his to-do list for the day.

and that’s where his brain stops focusing on school, and starts focusing on what happened at school.

there are several locations in chilton that seem like they were designed specifically for crying.

the most popular ones are the almost-always abandoned bathrooms near the journalism lab were a good bet for most, with the stress of deadlines; and, considering they tended to share with the chemistry and biology labs, that was tripled, and therefore the most commonly-used choice. it wasn’t uncommon for med-school-aiming seniors to duck out around finals week and return after a carefully scheduled five-minute crying break, red-rimmed around the eyes. most were polite enough not to mention it to their faces.

then there was the kiln room; considering it was mostly empty, all bare walls and concrete, excepting for the periods of time where there were ceramics classes or art club, of course, it went mostly empty, and tended to be the discerning choice for arts-inclined students.

and then there was the option that he had opted for today; steal into the senior’s lounge, near the rear exit of the school, and hunker up into the most hidden corner, giving himself until the bell for the next class bell rings to have his breakdown where no one, not nanny or ingrid or bertie or martha or god forbid granmè would be able to hear him, the urge he’s been holding in since he descended from a lie-in yesterday morning to see his parents both sitting at the table. at granmè’s house. to speak to him.

which, really, was never a good sign in the first place, but even for his parents it was a particularly fucking terrible—

the exit door opens.

shit. shit.

dee hastily uses the ends of his capelet to wipe at his eyes and then rummages in his backpack, yanking out the first book he lays hands on, hoping against hope that he can pass it off as skipping class, he can manage that, his reputation wouldn’t even take a hit for that, whereas if someone like louise fucking grant caught him crying—

“are you skipping class?”

dee makes a show of glancing up, nonchalant, at the person who’s spoken.

“are you?” dee contests. logan sanders shakes his head, his hands braced on his backpack straps.

“no,” he says, then, “the bus popped a tire on the way to school.”

“another count against the bus,” dee murmurs, and he turns his attention back to the book, feigning a loss of interest.

logan has not walked away. in fact, he’s walking closer. dee clears his throat, hoping that he won’t get close enough to see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. he’d specifically planned this particular crying jag so no one would see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

“are you skipping class?” logan repeats. dee stifles a curse. damn journalist.

“so what if i am?” dee says, and he might have pulled off his airy tone, if his voice hadn’t cracked on the last word. dee coughs, to cover it, but now logan is walking closer.

“were you… crying?” logan says uncertainly.

“no,” dee lies. and honestly, getting caught might be worth it for the expressions that wars across logan’s face—pained awkwardness overwhelms it, but there’s concern, and discomfort, and a sense of do i have to, and honestly, if dee wasn’t in such a shitty mood it would be pretty funny.

“may i sit?”

“will you listen if i say no?”

“probably not,” logan admits. “even if you weren’t crying, which i’m pretty sure you were—”

“—i wasn’t—” 

“—your attendance is as good as mine, i’d still want to know why you were skipping class.”

dee makes a show of sighing, but shoves his backpack a little further away and scoots further into the corner. logan nods, settling his backpack beside dee’s, and sits close to dee. not quite side-by-side, but just far enough away that it’s clear he’s offering dee the choice to lean closer. it’s strangely thoughtful. he remembers, distantly, logan at his birthday party; he’d ducked hugs a lot of the time, only accepting it when he couldn’t substitute a handshake. he wonders if logan doesn’t like physical contact, and tucks away the idea of investigating that for potential use later.

logan pauses, before he says, almost kindly, “the book’s giving you away. you’re reading the scarlet letter. we read that last quarter. i highly doubt you’d be rereading it. you made your dislike known enough as we were reading it, not that i blame you for finding it dull and archaic. it is dull and archaic.”

dee bites back a curse as he makes a show of glancing at the book. he knew he should have cleaned out his backpack after midterms, but no, he’d been too busy—

“i like the scarlet letter,” dee lies, and logan looks at him, arching an eyebrow.

“try again.”

“what?” dee says. “i could.”

“you literally overrode class one day to complain, at length, about how stupid the plot is, how overblown and over-long the prose is, and that hawthorne desperately needed an editor. which i agree with, by the way.”

“well,” dee says. “i could still like it.”

“please,” logan scoffs.

he turns the book in his hands and reduces a shudder. god, what a terrible book. he’ll toss it as soon as he gets home.

“well, i like sleep,” dee says lightly, “and one should always have sleep-inducing material on hand. it’s remarkably effective. i like it for that reason, how about that?” 

logan smiles, with a little hum of acknowledgement. a i don’t believe you but i think your excuse is funny enough that i won’t press you on it hum. dee’s heard it many times.

they sit in silence for a couple minutes. long enough that dee thinks that he’s going to get away with it—if they’re quiet until second period, then dee can steal away and have an excuse ready by lunch, if need be.

except logan clears his throat, and dee braces himself.

“if you’d like to… talk,” he says stiffly, and he coughs again. “i am—here. clearly. not just physically, as i am now, but as a means of support. i suppose.”

dee rolls his eyes. “how convincing,” he says, and ignored how clogged-up his voice sounds, all of a sudden.

“yes, well,” logan says. “of the many things my father’s taught me, one thing he apparently hasn’t been able to pass down is being particularly good at navigating these… emotional kinds of conversations is not one of them.”

dee would laugh at the look on logan’s face when he says emotional, if his brain wasn’t stuck on my father. 

“your dad,” dee says, a strange tone in his voice, before he can stop himself.

logan’s dad, who was raised in this environment, in this world, and, somehow, had managed to be openly, proudly trans.

logan’s dad, who had been trans, without his parents attempting to publicly interfere with the way he presented himself.

must be nice.

“yes,” logan says cautiously. “what about my dad?”

dee takes a deep breath, and, immediately, two concepts begin to war in his mind.

don’t tell him, one side screams. the whole reason you’re out here is because you don’t want people to see weakness!

he has access to a unique perspective that, to your knowledge, is only shared by yourself and that other person, he argues with himself. and the largest part of this that would be kept secret, he already knows. and you have blackmail in hand if he were to suddenly confess with this additional quest for information.

dee lets out his breath. he says, “does your dad talk about the way it was for him? back then.”

logan stiffens, ever so slightly, in surprise.

“not often,” he says, the cautiousness still lingering in his tone. “he’s only ever really told me a little; bits and pieces. not details, you understand, but…”

logan pauses, collecting his thoughts. dee almost snaps at him to hurry up; usually, logan’s a decent enough public speaker, but the whole dramatic pause thing he did sometimes was really quite annoying.

“i know that it wasn’t easy, for him,” logan says. “that in part, the reaction helped fuel his desire to run away, in addition to my existence and the further stigma that’s associated with that. there are likely old issues of the jefferson that could provide the nastier details; i’ve given him my word i wouldn’t seek them out. i don’t particularly want to. in addition to the writing skills of the jefferson being terrible, i am not particularly inclined to read transphobia and terrible rumors about anyone, much less my father.”

another pause. then, “he had a bonfire for all his dresses and skirts.”

dee turns to him, startled. logan’s dad? that soft little puffball?

“i know,” logan says, seemingly agreeing with how out-of-character it seemed. “my other father—christopher—helped. he’s been saving stories of his various teenage rebellions, too. he used to be rather…” a brief hesitation. “a rabble-rouser.”

dee snorts. it sounds very snotty and terrible and he immediately wishes he hadn’t.

(also—well, dee had known that logan was technically a hayden, it was just he hadn’t really heard logan outwardly express it, ever. he knows that christopher is located in california, somewhere. he wonders how logan handles that. something to look into.)

“why do you ask?” logan says.

“you know why.” 

“all right, that was poorly phrased,” logan says. “why ask about this now?”

dee hesitates. logan adds, awkwardly, “if you don’t want to answer—”

“it’s… fine,” dee says stiffly. he clears his throat. he looks at his shoes.

logan is one of the smartest people you know, he reminds himself. he wouldn’t tell. he knows you’d immediately move to destroy him if he told.

keeping his eyes on his toes, he says, forcefully light, “my parents have entered me into the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball. apparently, they’ve decided to stop humoring this phase i am going through, as i am now sixteen, it is time to cease such childish rebellion and enter society properly, as a—” dee stops, abruptly.

“as a gender which you are not,” logan finishes for him. his voice is very, very quiet.

dee clears his throat, and redirects his gaze from his shoes to the wall across from them. he’s very conscious of logan’s eyes on him, examining him, staring at his face for any sign of weakness.

“dee,” he begins, haltingly.

“it doesn’t matter,” dee says, except for the fact that it very much does matter. 

“that’s not,” logan begins, then, “i don’t,” and then, a frustrated sigh, before he says, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t,” dee snaps. “i don’t want your pity.”

“the definition of pity is the feeling of sorrow and compassion caused by the suffering and misfortunes of others,” logan snaps back. “as a fellow member of the lgbtq community, of course i feel sorrow and compassion at the information that someone does not have the support of their parents, and that lack of support will cause that someone will be outed publicly without their consent.”

dee doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to stare at the wall. his jaw is clenched so tightly he thinks his teeth might break from the pressure.

“is there anything i can do?” logan says stiffly.

dee keeps his eyes on the wall. “no,” he bites out.

they sit in awkward silence for a few more seconds. it feels like an hour. then:

“what if i stopped it?”

dee scoffs.

“what?” logan says.

“please,” dee says. “it’s the dar debutante ball.”

“we can get you out of it.”

“the bill’s already paid,” dee says. 

“then we’ll stop the ball,” logan says.

“i’m sorry, have you met the ilk of your grandmother and her friends?” dee says pointedly. “you think you’re going to rob them of the chance to trot their precious little darlings around in a circle for all the men to drool over?”

logan’s back straightens. dee, finally, turns to look at him.

it’s like dee can see the lightbulb go off over his head.

“what?” dee says.

“nothing,” logan says, except he’s smiling.

“what,” dee snaps.

“nothing,” logan repeats. “it’s just—i might have an idea.”

“might,” dee repeats.

“might,” logan agrees. he’s clearly about to say more, but the bell rings, and there’s the beginning of shuffling steps that means people will emerge into the hallways. logan scrambles to his feet, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, before, belatedly, offering a hand to dee.

dee considers it. he accepts. logan helps haul him to his feet.

“your idea,” dee says, picking up his own backpack.

“you’ll see,” logan says, and dee huffs at him, before beginning to head off to his next class—

“dee?”

dee turns, and logan offers an awkward little facial expression that might be a smile.

“if you want to talk about it—”

“we aren’t friends,” dee says, cutting off whatever platitude that he’s clearly building up to. an idea. probably a lie to try and make dee feel better.

“i know that,” logan says, firmly. “but if you ever do… want to talk about it.”

“i will,” dee says, and tacks on, “if i want to.”

“okay.”

“but i probably won’t.”

“that’s fine.”

dee hesitates. “but if i do—”

“i’m around,” logan says simply. 

“i doubt i will,” dee says, attempting to resume his haughty expression.

“you know where to find me, if you do,” logan says. 

dee rolls his eyes, as if that conversation was very trying and not something that threatens to create an even bigger lump in his throat, and resumes his route to his science class.

“mister slange, dinner!” nanny calls, and dee startles. he clears his throat and puts down his pen, rising to his feet.

“coming, nanny!” he calls down the stairs.

find him. right. like the idea of talking to logan sanders about anything else in his life is even slightly appealing.

no, he tells himself. the idea of getting to know logan sanders? maybe even becoming something other than rivals? not even a little bit nice.

⁂

as soon as virgil comes out of the kitchen, roman has this Look on his face that makes virgil immediately say “no.”

“you don’t even know what i’m asking yet!” roman protests.

“i can tell you’re plotting something just by the look on your face,” virgil says.

“ah, but technically i’m not the one plotting, logan is,” roman says, and, well. that’s outside the norm. roman tends to be the plotter of the things that give roman That Look on his face, the one that reminds virgil only a little painfully of remus.

“okay, why am i involved in the thing that logan’s plotting?”

“patton’s in on it too,” roman points out. “and, uh, my mom.”

virgil pauses, contemplates, and says, “i don’t know if that’s a warning sign or not.”

“well, logan and i can explain when patton and him get here for dinner,” roman says. “in the meantime—”

“please don’t order something that will make your mom kill me for violating your meal plan too terribly, i don’t think i’ve recovered from last friday,” virgil says wearily.

“ugh, fine,” roman says, and orders something that is at least passably healthy, which he could really teach to his boyfriend and—and virgil’s boyfriend.

virgil’s boyfriend, patton. nope, even after two and a half months, it’s still bizarre in the best possible way.

by the time virgil puts roman’s order in, and carries out about three more, he’s carting a tray across the diner as the bell jangles and two familiar faces walk in.

“hey,” patton says, and leans in to give him a brief, welcoming kiss. habit. routine. thrilling. patton runs a thumb along virgil’s stubble, grinning at him.

“hey yourself,” virgil says, and jerks his head. “roman’s in a booth over there, and apparently i have a plot to be brought in on?”

and then patton… puffs up with pride? literally, puffs up. whenever he’s proud of logan, his posture gets better and he puffs his chest out a little and his chin tilts up, like logan achieving something is an achievement for patton, makes him more confident in himself. virgil guesses a lot of logan’s achievements owe at least a little credit to patton’s parenting, though, so it’s a fair trade. logan doesn’t seem to be complaining.

“that you do,” patton says, a little smug.

“okay then,” virgil says. “brainstorm your pitch and i’ll be right over.”

he drops off dinner orders—mrs. torres and a gaggle of other older ladies who coo and giggle and wave to roman, who blows kisses back, because he’s the default adopted son/grandson for any active older woman in town—before he sidles up to the sanders/prince booth.

“right, okay, orders, then plot,” virgil says, flipping to a new page in his notepad and clicking his pen.

patton and logan put in their orders—virgil successfully convinces them both to trade in something unhealthy for either a salad (patton) or a side of vegetables (logan)—which he notes dutifully, before he slides in beside patton in the booth.

“okay,” virgil says, and he nudges patton. “pitch.”

“my idea, actually,” logan pipes up, and virgil obligingly turns his attention to the younger sanders.

“so,” logan says, folding his hands. “i am coming out.”

“um,” virgil says, dropping his gaze pointedly to where roman’s resting his hand on logan’s wrist. “you did that. like, eight years ago.”

“that’s what i said,” patton says, pleased.

“let me rephrase,” logan says, and his nose wrinkles. “i am coming out in the sense of the viennese waltz, i will be deemed of good breeding and marriageable age, must have dowry, seeking males with a trust fund, fluffy white dresses, et cetera.”

“oh, jesus christ,” virgil says. “what friend roped you into being an escort for this thing? because that is not a friend.”

“keep listening,” patton chides, a laugh in his tone.

“well, that’s the thing,” logan says. “i’m not going to be an escort.”

virgil considers this for a moment. “i’m not following.”

“logan’s creating an army to charge upon the daughters of the american revolution so we can destroy the patriarchy,” roman says, bright and perky.

“i’m recruiting like-minded members of the next generation to make a statement about gender equality,” logan corrects. “in other words: i shall be the one with a dowry, seeking males with a trust fund, in a fluffy white dress.”

“uh.”

“me too,” roman says sunnily. “i’m going to be wearing a fluffy white dress, too. plus a ton of other kids in our grade—the idea’s really caught on. ooh, logan, we can recruit some of the dance girls as escorts!”

virgil tries to picture it: a group of boys in dresses, girls in tuxes, gasping, scandalized rich people. the idea brings a smile to his face.

“oh, good idea, we should send put a sign-up sheet in the studio,” logan says.

“wait, you said i was going to be involved,” virgil says, his brain catching up with him. “where do i fit into all that?”

“well,” patton says. “isadora and i decided to set up a kind of etiquette-and-dance crash-course day for all the kids involved, because despite my best efforts i have not purged the viennese waltz or my numerous etiquette lessons from my mind—”

“you, cultured?” virgil teases, and patton smacks virgil’s arm playfully.

“with no help from you, thank you very much,” patton says. “anyway. since isadora and i are teaching the kids, and there will be an influx of fluffy white dresses and tuxes…”

it clicks. “alterations.”

“got it in one,” patton says cheerfully.

virgil’s a pretty decent tailor, for an amateur—he’s done his fair share of hemming dance costumes, or fixing suits, even some emergency repairs for some wedding dresses, over the years. he’s about to say something along the line of are you sure i should do this, i don’t think i’m qualified for something so fancy but then he catches the hopeful look on logan and roman’s faces, and—

“all right, fine,” virgil says, and he stands. “just let me know when and where, yeah?”

logan grins at him, and roman chirps a thank you, and patton giggles, soft, as virgil makes his way back for the kitchen.

fancy debutante tailor. he guesses he can handle that. it’s not really a step outside of the norm, so it’s not like he’s doing anything super out there, like the kids are.

virgil thought too soon.

by the time he re-emerges from the kitchen, ready to wipe down the counters, patton and logan are at the table finishing up the last of their meals, and roman’s at the counter, shifting his weight from foot to foot, eyes snapping to him. 

“hey,” virgil says. “you need a refill of water? because i’m telling you now, if you’re going to try for dessert, you may as well give up now—”

roman rolls his eyes. “no. it’s about the debutante ball.”

“okay,” virgil says, and tosses his towel over his shoulder. “what about it?”

“it, um,” roman says, and clears his throat. “ugh. apparently, your father’s supposed to present you at the ceremony.”

“oh,” virgil says. 

“and, um, since i don’t really have a dad,” roman begins.

“i could alter a tux for your mom?” virgil suggests. “since everyone’s already doing the whole ‘screw gender’ thing anyway.”

“i—no, no, she’s probably going to do backstage stuff to make sure that the sideshire kids aren’t spooked by the rich people,” roman says. “plus, she’d hate wearing a tux.”

“yeah, fair enough,” virgil says. he thinks the only time he’s really seen her dressed up is when she has to, during a recital or performance or something. “okay. i could help with the tux of… i forget his name, what’s that guy who was your one-on-one instructor during the nutcracker? sergio, right? i could drive you to visit sergio—“

“sergio is in portugal,” roman says, looking an odd mixture of helpless, amused, and frustrated. “y’know. where he’s from?”

“oh,” virgil says. “um, there’s always taylor? you know he’d be super into the whole pomp and circumstance thing.”

“taylor,” roman says. “virgil. you of all people. recommend taylor.”

“i know, okay, i know, but i’m kind of coming up blank here,” virgil says. 

“coming up blank?” roman repeats, the frustrated part becoming more clear.

“i’m trying here,” virgil says. “you could—”

“oh, for god’s sake, dumb-utante, i’m trying to ask you to escort me,” roman snaps. 

virgil’s jaw drops. just a little. 

“oh,” he says.

roman flushes a brilliantly bright red, and looks down at his shoes.

“i—just, whatever, okay, you don’t have to,” he mutters, and scuffs the toe of his shoe over the diner floor. he needs new ones—the white, rubbery part of his converse is overrun with mud and sharpie doodles, the aglets frayed, part of the high-top worn from where roman grabs it to shove his foot into it every morning discolored. 

remus used to wear green converse, sometimes, the most casual in his extensive collection of costume-style clothes. he remembers telling roman this, when roman was pretty little and ms. prince had enlisted virgil to take roman out for back-to-school shopping, and virgil had bought roman his first pair. he’d been little, then. six, he thinks. maybe seven. they’d gotten ice cream after. roman had gotten rum raisin, and virgil ended up having to eat the rest of it when roman pronounced it “ucky” and roman had ended up getting his usual chocolate-cherry. virgil had made roman pinky-promise that he would get a small one, so he wouldn’t spoil his dinner.

but roman prefers high-tops, and remus had always gotten classic chucks. roman loves red, and remus loved green. 

they’re different, remus and roman. like night and day. it still makes virgil feel a little strange whenever he thinks about how much longer he’s known roman than he’d known remus—really, it had topped out a few years ago, much longer if virgil was just considering how long he and remus had been friends. so much of his relationship with roman was built on the basis of being the last of remus’ friends still in sideshire, other than ms. prince, and so he was one of the only ones who could tell roman about his dad. do what his dad would have done.

remus probably would have bought roman his first pair of chucks when roman was a baby, those little tiny shoes that can sit comfortably in the palm of virgil’s hand with plenty of space to spare.

but remus is dead, and so buying roman his first pair of signature red shoes had fallen to virgil.

basically everything remus would have loved to do with his son had fallen to virgil, really, if ms. prince hadn’t taken care of it first.

apparently, your father’s supposed to present you at the ceremony.

“no,” virgil says, strangely choked up. “that’s—that’s a good idea. cool. i can, um. i can do that.”

“really?” roman asked, eyes snapping up from his shoes. he smiles like remus when he’s plotting, that much is true, but when he smiles when he’s just happy—all virgil can see is roman.

“yeah, sure,” virgil says, and then he coughs into his elbow to clear whatever’s lodged in his throat. “just, uh. just keep me updated on, y’know. details.”

roman’s grin grows a bit more delighted, a bit more remus-like. “are you crying?”

“what? no,” virgil scoffs.

“because you sound like you’re about to start crying.”

“i was chopping onions,” virgil says lamely. “this has nothing to do with you.”

“oh, i better check my calendar again, i didn’t realize it was opposite day,” roman says gleefully.

“you’re the most obnoxious teenager i’ve ever met,” virgil says, and roman laughs, even as he’s backing away, slowly, toward the door. virgil rolls his eyes, and moves to wipe down the counters.

“and you have to wear a tux!” roman calls, and virgil’s head snaps up.

“wait, what, no way—“

“shave off the five o’clock shadow, too, i won’t be looking scruffy by comparison!” roman calls, opening the door. virgil scowls, rubbing a hand along his face—yes, he goes stubbly sometimes, especially during winters or when he’s busy, but he doesn’t look bad with facial hair, he just looks a bit off today because he woke up late—and the reality hits him. a tux. dressing fancy. being involved in a high society ceremony.

“the tux is bad enough!”

“you’re forgetting the tails, the cumberbun, plus white gloves!“ roman says, ticking it off on his fingers.

“i take it back!” virgil calls. “i’m not doing this anymore!”

“too late, i already signed you up!” roman shouts, and disappears from the diner before virgil can yell at him anymore.

a tux. tails. white gloves.

a cumberbun.

dammit, of course roman would manage to net him into some kind of makeover.

⁂

it’s been a shitty day so far. 

something kept interrupting his sleep last night, so when he finally managed to get to sleep, he slept through his alarm. granmè was already having a bad memory day, repeatedly calling out for her dead husband and not recognizing nanny, which means she probably won’t recognize him, so he had to keep out of their way, and as he was walking out the door he saw bertie holding up something ensconced in a garment bag, lips pursed in disapproval, whose length could only mean the arrival of a fluffy white dress, a nice reminder of the thing that dee was dreading.

and it isn’t even eight yet.

“move,” dee snarls to the particularly amorous couple blocking the path to his locker—really, people, it was seven forty-five in the morning, did they always have to start the day attempting to tie their tongues together?—and they shuffle aside, to a vacant stretch of wall, presumably to resume their excessive pda.

dee rolls his eyes. typical.

except—

“slange,” one of the makeout participants says. dee ignores him, placing the books he’d had to bring home for homework in and pulling out the books he’d need for his morning classes.

“hey, slange, i’m talking to you,” he repeats. 

dee rolls his eyes with all the sarcasm he can muster, and directs his gaze to them; summer, absently wiping some stray lipgloss off with her finger, and tristan, leaning over.

“what,” dee says, in the crispest tone he possibly can.

“didn’t take you for a troublemaker,” tristan says, grinning still; dee notes, sourly, that summer could probably spare some energy to wipe off the sticky lip gloss on tristan’s chin, too. 

“excuse me.”

“oh, right, right,” tristan says, and rolls his eyes. “fighting the patriarchy, excuse me. hey, if that excuse is enough to make it look good on your college resume, you wouldn’t happen to know how to—”

“you already know all the people in our grade who write papers for a fee, dugray,” dee says, already exhausted and snippy and—he hates to even admit it to himself—confused. “take it up with henry, if you must. and wipe off your face before you go to class, you have holographic glossier smeared everywhere. it’ll give you away to julia, she doesn’t wear lipgloss.”

summer gapes at him, and immediately begins to screech something along the lines of “what is that supposed to mean, i knew you didn’t block her like i told you to!” but dee’s already tuning it out, slamming the locker door shut and making his way to homeroom. frankly, summer should have dumped tristan the second he told her that she wasn’t allowed to talk to other boys. the pair of them were toxic together—half the material he had on tristan were things that he wouldn’t want summer to know.

the other half would, if it made its way to the right hands, get him sent off to military school.

dee’s saving most of the rest of that for when he gets really annoyed with tristan.

he might be there in ten minutes if he didn’t get an answer—what did tristan mean, trouble-making? and tristan dugray, fighting the patriarchy. please. tristan’s as emblematic of a toxic, rich, straight white boy that there could be. tristan adores all the trappings of the patriarchy; it better allows him to pursue whatever girl he wanted into being his girl of the week, despite the fact that they weren’t particularly wanting to be his girl of the week, whenever he and summer were on a break (and, most of the time, when they weren’t.)

except that isn’t even the only time.

henry, dermot, lem—even shy little brad, who usually breaks out into cold sweats at the sight of him since the whole theater incident in sixth grade, seem to be attempting to make eye contact with him as he walks down the hall, like they were in with him, or something. like they were suddenly friends.

dee stews, furious, at the very idea they could know something about him that he doesn’t know—until he sees lisa approaching logan sanders, who seems to be loading up his backpack.

dee frowns. logan wouldn’t like lisa—well, obviously, he’s gay, but also, lisa subscribes to her parents’ politics, including the epithets of “fake news,” and he’s pretty sure that alone would spring logan into a furious tirade like little else could.

dee pauses.

fight the patriarchy, tristan had said. trouble making.

“what if i stopped it?”

and then he moves immediately toward the locker.

“—long as you don’t say why, then yes, of course,” logan says.

“duh!” lisa chirps. “hilarious, lo-lo, seriously.”

logan’s face twists up as politely as he can manage at the sound of a cutesy nickname, but he can’t really say anything, since lisa’s already flouncing off to be discriminatory and heartless on her parents’ orders.

presumably.

“what,” dee says, “was that.”

“i know,” logan says, turning back to his locker. “lo-lo. what am i, a puppy?”

“not that,” dee says. “you know she’s—”

“a terrible person who stands against everything i am, yes,” logan says mildly. “but she’s wealthy and has a fair amount of—” a near-sneaky glance at a notecard in his hand— “clout, amongst the puffs.”

“the puffs?” dee repeats, his voice already sounding strange.

“you know, the secret sorority,” he says nonchalantly. “one of them, at least, and certainly the most desired to join—”

“i know who the puffs are,” dee says, in a tone that clearly denotes do you think i’m stupid, i’ve gone to this school for longer than you have.

“ah,” logan says. “right. well, i would have gone through francie jarvis, who is less diametrically opposed to—” he makes a sweeping gesture up and down his body, “but she was absent yesterday, so. lisa was the obvious in.”

“why do you need an in with the puffs?” dee says. 

logan glances up and down the hall—god, way to show off you’re discussing something sensitive—before he pulls a leaflet out of his backpack, handing it to dee.

FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY!

dee skims it, and feels his eyebrows rise higher and higher, even as his throat gets disturbingly closed up.

“i noticed that a lot of the puffs are due for their debutante ball,” logan explains, even as dee stares at the—the excuse, the excuse that logan’s pulling for this elaborate ruse, that, if it works—

i won’t be outed.

dee swallows, hard. he folds the leaflet back up, and clears his throat.

“the puffs are a decent enough start,” he says, voice perhaps a bit thicker than normal. “as they’re the most socially prized secret society at chilton, it was a good place to begin—people will want to emulate them, especially those who are attempting to get puffed. mostly freshmen, but there are a few sophomores who are sixteen that’ll join. but you need to pivot your focus—the old crows and the skull and dagger would probably gain more participants per club capita.”

“old crows?” logan says uncertainly.

“the secret society for a select few seniors,” dee says. “who have likely already had a coming out, but it’s not uncommon to do multiple. skull and dagger would probably love an excuse to cause chaos, but that’s sorted, so long as you bother tristan some more. and if you’re going to come at it from the fight patriarchy angle, you’re going to need to get the clairosophic society involved.”

“the…?”

“another secret sorority,” dee says. “do you only know the puffs?”

logan abruptly looks sheepish, and dee sighs, put-upon.

“well,” he says. “clearly, you need my help pulling this off. of all the secret societies at this school, only ten are worth mentioning—”

“only ten?!”

“—so we can get people through those,” dee says, “and yes, ten, i thought you were a journalist, aren’t you supposed to know how to research these sorts of things?”

“well,” logan says. “i’ve already gotten a group of kids from sideshire, but clearly, i’ll need your help on the social side at chilton.”

a beat, and then, uncertain, “if you’re okay with this.”

dee stares at him for a long few seconds.

“if this works,” dee says carefully, trying to directly telepathically communicate i am okay with you attempting to cover for me like this, please count me in, “you’re going to have a hell of a college essay on your hands.”

a grin breaks out on logan’s face.

“as if i don’t have three drafts written already,” he says, and dee allows himself to grin back at him.

“now,” he says. “the clairs,” and logan readies a notebook, and, if dee were at all prone to clichés, he might say something like, this is the start to a beautiful partnership.

but he isn’t. obviously.

⁂

logan has his game face on.

patton’s seen this face countless times before; before he walks into mayor porter’s office to demand answers beyond pr statements, before they entered charleston’s office his first day at chilton, when coming face-to-face taylor after his latest piece that critiqued the way he handles town government.

he’s seen it while they were driving to the exact same place, too; before holiday parties, before birthday dinners, before the first-ever friday night dinner. but he hasn’t pulled up to the sanders’ mansion looking like that in months.

patton puts the car in park, removes the keys, and wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers for what must be the dozenth time that night.

“i’m on your side,” patton reminds him. 

“i know,” logan says and opens the car door, ready to storm up to the door and… well. tell emily that he was going to join the debutante ball.

which she’d probably be thrilled with, if he was the one escorting a girl in a white dress.

it would almost be a little funny to think about, if he wasn’t so nervous—emily expecting patton to go through a debutante ball in a fluffy dress, only to be derailed by the fact that he wasn’t a girl and, you know, the teen pregnancy; emily then expecting logan to escort a lovely young lady on his arm only to be turned around by logan doing it in a fluffy dress.

patton wipes his hands off on his pants again before he rings the doorbell. 

he has never seen the woman who answers the door before.

which isn’t surprising; new maids crop up at his parents’ house like weeds. he’s really hoping that therapy would help make a dent in that habit of his mother’s, but no dice yet.

“hi,” patton says, as kindly as possible—he always tries to be as kind as possible to the maids, just to make up for whatever future tiny offense that they might get fired for. one time he got grounded for two weeks for helping esperanza polish silver and practice his spanish. poor esperanza, he’d liked her.

plus, ever since the whole “being a homeless housekeeper” thing, his sympathy had really only escalated for them—he feels a level of solidarity, even if he’s not a housekeeper anymore.

“hello,” the maid says; she has an accent, patton thinks probably german. she’s blonde, and patton can see only half her face from the way she’s practically hiding behind the door.

“you’re new?” patton asks, and she nods.

“okay, well, hi,” patton says, offering a hand to shake. “i’m patton—”

she shakes his hand hurriedly, before pulling back further into the house.

“—and that’s my son, logan. what’s your name?”

“liesl.”

“hi, liesl,” he says warmly. “i’m emily and richard’s son, she’s expecting us for dinner?”

“oh! please, come in,” she says, flustered, opening the door further. 

“i, uh,” she says, “can i, um. get you a drink?”

“you know what, that’s okay!” patton says brightly. “we can handle it.”

a pause, before patton says in an undertone, “if you’d like to hide in the kitchen before my mother gets down here, please go for it.”

a look of relief breaks out on her face. “really?”

patton nods.

“thank you,” she exhales, and scuttles off to relative safety.

logan waits until she rounds the corner, before he says, “she won’t last another day.”

patton sighs, moving to hang his coat on the rack. he would tell logan that’s not a very nice thing to say, if he wasn’t right about it. “i know, poor thing.”

as they continued into the living room, patton could hear his mother coming down the stairs; less than a few seconds later, she rounded the corner, landline phone firmly affixed to her ear.

“—don’t forget that the dar meeting’s on tuesday, it’s at three o’clock and all the women are extremely punctual…”

emily makes eye contact with patton to roll her eyes, as if to curse the entire customer service industry; patton shrugs at her, just a little, before he lightly bumps logan’s shoulder and murmurs “soda?”

logan nods, drifting off to investigate the latest influx of tiny figurines that definitely weren’t there last week, and patton goes to the drinks cart to prep their drinks for the evening.

her mother’s talking about heddy cubbington—ah, so she’s talking to a caterer, then—and patton leans into her line of vision just enough to wiggle a bottle of gin at her, mouthing “martini?”

okay, he might try and make it a smidge stronger than usual. honestly, if she’s a bit off her game from more gin than usual, then maybe she won’t freak out as badly as patton is kind of expecting her to!

but regardless, his mother nods, even as she’s telling the caterer about her very precise tasting methods that they’ll have to follow to a t, and patton reacquaints himself with the process of preparing a martini exactly as his mother likes it—there was a stint of about a month or so when the hotel’s bar staff was incredibly short, way back in the day, so he picked up a few cocktail tricks here and there. 

he wonders if he could still manage to do a lidless shaker flip without spilling anything.

before he can try, though—and probably hear his mother’s outcry about trying his absolute hardest to stain her rug—his mother hangs up on the phone with a fervor, rolling her eyes as she did so.

“honestly, sometimes it’s like the only person with any sense,” she huffs. 

patton hums, carefully straining the martini into one of the coupes. he would do a martini glass, but those tend to spill more, the coupes hold more liquid, and she prefers the material of the coupes anyway—less likely to have fingerprint smudges, which also means one less thing to use to potentially snap at poor liesl. “troubles with the dar, mom?”

(okay, so maybe he’s busting out his old tricks to put his mother in a good mood—there’s almost nothing his mother likes more than gossiping and snipping at the members of the dar that aren’t pulling their weight, and once she’s expelled a bit of energy ranting like that, it usually meant less energy could be spent ranting at him.)

she sighs, settling on her usual spot on the couch. “constance betterton is running this event into the ground—” patton presses the martini into her hand, and she looks startled, momentarily, before thanks him briefly and continues on her tirade, including the perils of unsold tables and constance’s absolute inability to plan a function. 

patton hands over logan’s soda and directs him to the couch before he can crack open any books of interest, because logan will probably spend most of the dinner ignoring them if that happens, and since richard is on a business trip again that means it will be just him and his mom, and with how nervous he is over logan’s upcoming proposal he absolutely cannot do that, and then he goes and makes himself a plain club soda because him drinking sounds like a not-great idea right now.

by the time that particular train of conversation runs out of steam, it’s enough to carry them to the dining room. 

“so, logan,” emily says, as liesl attempts to set a land speed record for serving salads in her quest to get back to the kitchen, “is there anything new in your life?”

patton’s pretty sure that it would be impossible to pick up on who’s more nervous, him or liesl.

“there is, actually,” logan says, somehow entirely unfazed. “dee slange—you remember, you took me out to lunch with him and his grandmother evelyn—”

“oh, yes,” emily says, “wonderful woman, incredibly talented gardener. she’s coming out less and less lately, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good, long chat.”

“—we’re arranging a bit of an extracurricular project,” logan continues. 

“oh?” emily says, sounding interested. she picks up her fork and begins to eat her salad. “you two are getting along, then?”

“we’ve come to an understanding,” logan says coolly, and even as nervous as patton is, he can’t but grin a bit at his son. we’ve come to an understanding. really, logan, it wouldn’t hurt to say that you’re friends now.

“wonderful,” emily says briskly. “good that you’ve put that petty rivalry behind you.”

patton bites his tongue rather than start on a rant about the seriousness of physical assault.

“quite,” logan says. 

“so, what’s this project?” she asks, with a slight gesture of her fork. “you two are interested in journalism, from what i hear, is it something like that?”

logan sets his fork down. “actually, grandma, it has to do with you, tangentially. mrs. slange is a member of the daughters of the american revolution. like you.”

“a research project, then?” she says. “richard will probably have some books for—”

“not really,” logan says. “we’re both arranging for greater participation in the debutante ball. i’m coming out.”

patton holds his breath. here we go.

emily chuckles. “the correct term for the young gentlemen is escorting, logan. are you both escorting young ladies, then? anyone i know?”

“oh, i used the correct term,” logan says mildly. “i’m coming up with a partner later, but i was actually going to ask if you ever bought a dress for dad to use before he came out.”

emily lowers her fork.

patton’s pretty sure that even if he was about to breathe, he wouldn’t be able to.

“i’m going to be a debutante,” he says, very slowly, as if explaining something he thought to be obvious.

“you’re not serious,” she says disbelievingly.

“i am,” logan says. “we have approximately twenty-five participants so far, and we’re recruiting more. so. do you have a dress or not?”

“that’s absurd,” emily says. “i mean—my grandson, gallivanting about in a dress, how will that look?!”

“you were going to let dad do it,” logan points out, and before patton can say hey, nice point! emily swivels to face patton, piercing him through with a glare. “did you put him up to this?!”

before patton can squeak out anything, logan putting down his fork with a clang louder than necessary, and she turns to face her grandson.

“i was simply asking if you had a dress,” logan says. his voice is very, very even. the game face has reappeared. “i can ask again, if you’d like. do you have a dress suitable for this occasion, or should i shop for my own?”

emily and logan stare each other down. patton’s eyes dart between them both.

his mother has a variety of nicknames: the cobra, from her antiquing friends, because she’d squeeze and squeeze at you until you complied. wicked witch of the west, by some of her shopping friends, over the levels she’d go to over something as simple as a pair of shoes. 

christopher had joked once that “people considered what patton’s mother would do in a given situation, dialed it back, and they’d have what mussolini would do, then they’d dial it back, and they’d have what stalin would do, and then they’d dial that back and then it starts approaching what a sane person would do.”

she’d once forced an ex-president out of a hotel room because theirs had been bigger than theirs. a president. of the whole united states.

patton’s gearing himself up to provide as much supportive parent backup to logan that he possibly can, and also cursing himself for taking the time to hang up his coat, because if he hadn’t and just kept it with him they could make a quicker escape, and palming the car keys in his pocket. he puts together comebacks for my friends will be at this event and undignified and what will people say?!

and then patton takes a closer look at his mother’s face. it’s not her version of the game face, patton notices.

and then patton puts together what that expression is, with no small amount of surprise.

she’s calculating.

she’s calculating, patton realizes with no small amount of shock, if it’s worth it to go up against logan.

because logan is definitely wearing his game face, coupled with a defiant, angry look that, with another shock, it reminds him of him. it reminds him of him when he was a bit younger than logan is now—and, he realizes, his mother must be recalling those hellion days too.

at last, his mother sighs, wipes her mouth a napkin, and stands. “i might have something suitable.”

patton’s left sitting there, gaping. his mother. his mother backed down. his mother. did not fight with logan when it was clear what he was doing would interfere with her social status. 

his mother!

“well?!” emily snaps. “do you want to see it or not?!”

he and logan exchange a look before they scramble out of their seats, heading after her as quick as they can.

they’re going down to the basement, which holds a conglomeration of things and also patton’s second-most-frequently-used sneak-out route. the wine cellar’s down here, along with his parents’ collections of luggage, and matching white wardrobes filled with all kind of things, and gifts from granny trix that his mother has refused to display over the years, and art and furniture deemed out-of-fashion but were still held fondly enough to be stored in the house—it was, by far, the most disorganized segment of the sanders’ mansion.

of course, there were still clear paths to each segment of the basement, so it wasn’t as disorganized as, say, patton’s garage, but still. disorganized by his parents’ standards.

so patton follows logan who follows emily, past life-sized dog statues, past a stack of steamer trunks and matching carry-on luggage, past framed paintings of some of patton’s old family members, past the rows of old wines stored for an occasion fancy enough for them, past candlesticks and antique tables, past crates and cardboard boxes filled with, patton’s sure, more of the same, until they get back to yet another white wardrobe.

“it’s in here somewhere,” his mother says, already flipping her way through rows and rows of hanging garment bags, before she makes an “aha!” sound and plucks free a garment bag that looks identical to all the rest, before sparing it a fond glance.

“we got it in london,” she says fondly, “never actually worn, of course, but goodness, the plans i had for the seamstresses…” and patton feels a squirming sensation in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in a very long time; the same one he’d get every time he was dragged into a department store, the same one he’d get every time he knew he had to wear whatever was laid out on the bed for whatever party or get-together his mother was having, the same one he’d get when his mother’s friends, over for tea, would croon, my goodness, how pretty you are! 

patton clears his throat before his mother can start reminiscing on the times of dresses and skirts past, and says, “maybe show logan the dress, mom?”

“oh,” she says, seemingly successfully jolted out of whatever fashion-induced daydreaming session she’d fallen into, “yes” and unzips the garment bag, to reveal—

well, patton doesn’t know what he’d expected, really. all he can see is a lot of white, puffy tulle. 

“can i try it on?” logan says. “just to see it.”

emily hesitates, clutching the delicate fabric, before she hands him the garment bag with no small amount of reluctance.

“we’ll be upstairs when you want to give us a little fashion show,” patton says, carefully catching his mother’s elbow before she can rethink any of this. “let us know if you need help zipping it up or anything?”

logan nods, and begins the process of carefully unearthing the dress as patton steers his mother back up the stairs.

“he’ll need help getting into the dress,” emily protests.

“if he needs help, he’ll ask,” patton counters, firmly. “he’s sixteen, he’s helped roman with a lot of elaborate costumes like that before. he’ll manage. let’s give him a bit of privacy.”

patton glances back in enough time to see logan shooting him a grateful look, and patton shoots him a thumbs-up—he’d always hated it whenever his mother barged into a dressing room to “help,” so he’d always tried his best to let logan have his privacy when it came to this kind of thing.

also, okay, maybe the weirdness of having his pre-selected debutante dress he’d never worn or even really known about coming back to haunt him in some way is getting to him, just a little bit. 

“how did this idea get into his head?” she asks suspiciously, as soon as they’ve cleared the last of the steps and relocate to the living room; patton crosses to sit on the couch, and maybe walks a little slower than usual to get an answer straight in his head.

“i don’t… exactly know, why this, i mean,” patton says slowly—which is a little true, he doesn’t know exactly why logan chose this course of action over anything else—and fiddles with his suit jacket. “um, but i know it’s important to him. and dee,” he tacks on unnecessarily. “so, i’m all for it. a thousand percent.”

she surveys him, before she says, “you know more than you’re letting on, though.”

“not my story to tell,” patton says, and it surprises him, how firm his tone is. “but i am really behind logan doing this.”

she sighs, as if he’s a child all over again. “you would be behind logan doing anything. will you keep that attitude if he decided to drop out of school tomorrow?”

“okay, first of all, that sounds more like me,” patton points out. “in fact, that was me. logan is at least channeling any trouble-making tendencies toward something productive.”

“productive,” she says. “the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball—”

“—is an outdated, sexist ‘tradition,’” patton says, using finger quotes, “that will, at worst, turn out to be a college entry essay for logan, and at best be a nice, eye-opening event to some of your friends, who, if i recall, were not particularly enthusiastic about that whole upholding,” time for finger quotes again, “‘the promise of equality for all, and we share an obligation to help our nation fulfill that founding promise.’”

emily’s eyes widen, and oh boy, patton sure said a lot more than he meant to there, so he braces himself for what might be a fight, but luck happens to be on patton’s side tonight.

“dad?” logan calls.

“yeah, kiddo?”

“i need help with the buttons,” logan says, voice distinctly closer than before; like he’s hiding around the corner.

“okay, well,” patton says, about to get to his feet to go and help, but then logan turns the corner.

the dress, patton sees, is… surprisingly simple, for his mother’s taste. there’s delicate, appliqué straps, with a modest scoop neckline. the bodice is delicately embroidered, and the skirt is unadorned tulle. 

the dress is simple, he realizes, a little startled, because even before his mother was shopping for it, he had made his distaste for elaborate dresses and gowns clear. she must have picked this out for him in an attempt to garner his good graces with this dress; this was what she must have thought his tastes would have looked like.

he still would have hated it.

it twists up his stomach a bit more, thinking about what would have been, what his mother probably thinks should have been, but patton plasters a smile on his face, rising to his feet, pushing that out of his mind and trying to focus on how logan looks in the dress, not on the fight that would have happened if patton had seen this dress, if he’d had to wear it, before he’d come out.

it’s a little bit short on logan, but that’s to be expected—patton had been a pretty short teenager, and logan’s taller than patton is even now, after a half-foot testosterone-induced growth spurt. the skirt would have swept along the ground if patton was wearing it, if he’s calculating right; as it is, it hits logan somewhere above the ankles, giving it a “fifties flare skirt” kind of vibe. the bodice isn’t really thought out for someone with as flat a chest as logan’s, either, but at least it follows the path of his torso—no need to try and lengthen that.

“very handsome,” he says, before he rounds to logan’s back to examine—ah, yes, as he expected, the buttons up the back are all delicate and tiny and fiddly, and almost impossible for logan to fasten on his own, because he’d never had practice with things like this before. “yeah, okay, let’s see how you fit into it—gosh, i must have been almost a foot shorter than you are now when mom ordered this dress. we’ll definitely have to alter it—”

“do you have a tailor in mind?” emily says.

“virgil’ll do it,” patton says absently, as he’s a little surprised at how easily his fingers remember to maneuver the little pearly buttons—muscle memory, he guesses—and glances up to see his mother arching her eyebrows disbelievingly.

“i know he sews,” she says, voice clearly tinged with doubt, clearly about to say but.

“uh-huh,” patton says, turning his attention back to the buttons. “he’s really good at it, too. he’s done some emergency fixes on wedding dresses and stuff, so he knows how to work with gowns.”

there’s a soft hmph.

“he’s going to be altering dresses and tuxes for the sideshire kids involved in this,” patton continues, then, “all right, hon, that’s the last one. is it too tight, too loose…?”

“fine, i think,” logan says. “tight, but i think i can manage for now.”

patton flips a strap of the dress that’s gotten all twisted around, before sidestepping the skirt—they’ll need to get a crinoline so that it puffs out properly, patton can tell—and observing the entire look, how it seems now that logan’s fully dressed.

it’s a bit odd, definitely. logan’s only ever really worn dresses when he was roped into it as a kid, mostly while playing dress-up with roman—logan’s always been pretty attached to jeans or slacks to pair with his ties or bowties—so seeing logan in a dress is an unusual enough occurrence that it strikes patton’s brain as something completely new.

the dress, as delicate-looking as it is, combines with logan in a strange contrast that works; he looks nice in white, and all the delicate details seem to change what they emphasize—the scoop neck makes his collarbone look graceful, demure, but the thin straps emphasize the broadness of logan’s shoulders, the muscle there. the dress is all soft, sweet femininity, a look that logan doesn’t rock very often, because all the rest of it is logan—who usually favors a straight-forward, business-like, traditionally masculine look. 

he looks good.

“give us a twirl, kiddo,” patton says, mostly teasing, but logan obliges, lifting himself onto his tiptoes to spin himself around, the skirt flaring and settling. patton applauds.

and then he smiles, because logan is kind of smiling, but also kind of trying to hide that he’s smiling, because it’s probably the first time in about ten years that logan’s spun around in a long skirt, and hey, skirts of any kind might mess with patton’s gender dysphoria, but he also remembers how satisfying it is to spin around in a really long skirt.

logan plucks lightly at the skirt to make sure it’s all hanging straight, before he glances over and says, and patton only knows it’s tinged with slight nervousness because of how well he knows him, “what do you think, grandma?”

patton turns to look at his mother for the first time since he’d started fastening logan’s buttons.

emily’s staring at the pair of them. and staring. and staring. patton’s about to prod logan to maybe ask again, before—

“heels,” she says.

“what?” logan says, glancing up from the skirt.

“that dress will never work if you don’t wear heels,” she says, a glint in her eyes.

logan says, “heels are scientifically proven to cause foot, ankle, knee, and back problems. also, they are a tool of the patriarchy, designed to slow a woman down.”

“oh, it’ll be required,” she says. “as well as elbow-length kidskin gloves, pantyhose, a crinoline—”

“that’s ridiculous,” logan huffs.

“uh-huh,” patton says absently, recalling his own experiences with heels. “that’s a debutante ball, kiddo.”

“and if you’re going to do the thing, you may as well do it properly,” emily says decisively, standing up. “i might have a pair of heels that will fit you, just so we can see the amount of height you’ll need—”

and she’s off, heading straight for her closet. in retrospect, patton thinks, he probably should have expected his mom being more on board when it came to clothes.

“help,” logan says, looking at patton pleadingly.

“hey,” patton says, holding up his hands with half a laugh, “this was your idea.”

logan looks like he’s sincerely regretting it.

⁂

virgil’s putting away the last of the dishes he’d washed (patton would probably get on him, later, for doing chores that patton was going to do later, and how you don’t have to do that, honey!! but he was bored, he did some dishes, sue him, also patton always gives him this smile whenever he does things like this, so it is for slightly selfish reasons) when he hears patton’s car pull into the driveway, and the motor cuts off.

virgil smiles to himself, and makes sure that he’s put everything away properly, before he meanders over to the couch and tries to make it seem like he hasn’t been cleaning patton’s kitchen. he’s obviously going to get found out as soon as patton notices his sink is empty, but.

he can hear logan’s voice floating through the door, “—glad she took it okay, but dad, you had to stop at that store right then—?”

“i probably should have warned you,” patton, a laugh in his voice, “but honestly, well. you are gonna have to wear the gloves and crinoline at least, and since you’ve never—”

the door opens, logan carrying a garment bag, patton carrying a shopping bag, “—walked in a pair before, it’s probably smart that you—virgil, hi, honey!”

virgil rises automatically to his feet as patton’s face brightens, and patton rocks up on his toes to give him a greeting kiss. 

“i thought you were working?” patton says.

virgil shrugs, and sticks his hands in his pockets. “things were slow enough, i figured i could let jean close. hey, l, is that the dress?”

“it is,” logan says.

“so that went okay?” virgil says, and logan scowls, ever so slightly. 

“virgil’ll need to see you in the heels you’re intending to wear to get the hemming right,” patton says. “won’t you, virgil?”

“yeah, i’ll have to use it to see if the skirt needs more length—and heels, huh?” virgil says, glancing at logan.

logan scowls even deeper. “grandma seems to be under the influence that if i’m going to be a debutante, i’m going to have to do it properly. therefore, heels.”

“and elbow length kidskin gloves, and a crinoline,” patton says, ticking them off on his fingers. “i have a list.”

“should probably wait until you get the petticoat to tailor the dress,” virgil says. “could i see it, though? you don’t have to put it on or anything. i brought a—”

“oh!” patton says, catching sigh of the torso-only mannequin sitting in the corner of the room.

“i’ll just keep it here for logan’s dress,” virgil says. “i figured a headless one would be less… creepy.”

“it’s appreciated,” logan says, before he hands over the garment bag, and virgil unzips it, starting to unbunch the skirt and wrestle it onto the mannequin.

“i hate heels,” logan grumbles. “have you seen the studies on what wearing these things on a regular basis will do to your spine?”

“uh-huh,” patton says. 

“not to mention your feet,” logan says, scowling at the shoebox like it’s morally offended him.

“also,” logan continues, “heels are an invention of the patriarchy! they were originally meant to help men secure their feet in stirrups, and then it became a symbol of nobility and class, so they’re inherently classist, too!”

“oh, absolutely agreed,” patton says. 

“i can’t believe grandma insisted on heels,” logan says. “flats would be fine.”

“yeah, i probably should have guessed she wouldn’t let that part go, given the lessons,” patton says.

logan glances up, frowning. “lessons?”

virgil glances away from where he’s fluffing out the skirt of the dress, too, to see patton with a strange look on his face; half nostalgia, half regret. it’s a look he usually gets when he’s talking about growing up in the sanders house.

“oh, yeah,” patton says, reminiscent. “as soon as i was deemed old enough, we had walking practice lessons, me and your grandma.”

“…what,” virgil says. because. what?

patton laughs, just a little. “yeah, every day for half an hour a day, one summer! she’d make sure i had proper posture in heels. i had to balance a book on my head, too, to make it even more cliché.”

logan looks, perhaps, a little cowed. virgil, on the other hand, is just—

sometimes, it knocks him totally off-guard, whenever patton talks about the various absurd things he had to do, pre-transition, as the sole scion of a rich family. etiquette lessons and country clubs and going to the opera and flower arranging and walking lessons. patton remembers a lot of it, clearly—of course he does, for so long it had been deemed that patton would be a house spouse who raised kids for a similarly wealthy scion of an esteemed family—but it always throws virgil off, just a little.

he briefly pictures patton—long-haired, in the admittedly few pictures patton has shown virgil of himself at that age—chin tilted carefully up, but not too far up, one of the too-big grimoires from richard’s library wobbling on his head, eyes fixed on one of the portraits emily has dotting the house, walking loops around the living room as emily critiqued his posture and stance with a hawkish eye, the click-click-click of heels on hardwood the only thing to break up her commentary.

“i mean,” patton says, breaking that particular mental image. “you know. at least you’ve only gotta wear heels for this one thing. women are expected to wear heels all the time. and since you’re selling this to a lot of chilton students as experiencing what women experience for a day…”

“…i will shut up about the heels,” logan mumbles.

patton ruffles his hair, and, seemingly detecting the mood that’s dropped over logan and virgil—thinking about what it would be like, to be raised like that—and says, in a gentle tone, brushing logan’s hair back into place, “heels really aren’t so bad, once you get used to them. it does just take a bit of practice, i promise.”

logan sighs, and looks at the box a smidge less distastefully than before. “i suppose i’ll have to try it to see.”

“that’s the spirit,” patton says brightly, and virgil shakes himself and refocuses on fastening the buttons of the dress, before stepping out from behind it to get the full effect.

“it’s a bit short on you, huh?” virgil comments, already digging around in his breast pocket for the notepad he usually uses to take orders.

“i think it’ll look very audrey hepburn once we get the crinoline,” patton offers. “the flare skirt thing, y’know.”

virgil nods, jotting this down; as he is, he asks, absently, “logan, was it tight, loose, itchy, anything like that?”

“tight,” logan says immediately, “and a bit itchy.”

virgil’s brow furrows thoughtfully as he considers what to do about that—brick davis had already stopped by the diner to tell him their nickname they were going to use while they were considering other names to eventually adopt and show off their dress, and they had some sensory issues and had already told him that they loved the shape of the dress, but they already knew that if they could feel the itchy gemstones it would be enough to make them have sensory overload, so he was already brainstorming fixes for that—but he jots it down all the same, before reaching out to pinch at the skirt and lift it, then let it go, just to get a sense of how it moved.

“i mentioned earlier that it makes sense, since i was probably a foot shorter than he was when mom ordered that dress,” patton says. “but if there’s a way to just loosen it a bit, maybe, and make the flare skirt thing look more intentional?”

“that’ll all be in the,” he gestures, “crinoline, petticoat, whichever you get. a crinoline would probably be the better choice, if you really want the fifties vibe—logan, you’re cool with the fifties vibe?”

“fine by me,” logan’s voice floats from the couch, then, “how is this supposed to work?”

both patton and virgil glanced over in enough time to see logan holding up a high heel—white, of course, and very sensible-looking and, if virgil had to guess, three inches tall, maybe four, at the highest. 

patton blinks. “putting them on already?”

logan shrugs, and says, intentionally casual, “if they take practice, why not start now?”

patton pauses, before he clears his throat and crosses the room, and says, “yeah, okay. do you need help?”

virgil crosses the room, too, if only to get a look at the dress from a full-view angle, and he hears a ka-CLUNK as logan staggers to his feet. he turns in enough time to see logan pinwheeling his arms wildly, and patton reaching out to balance him.

“whoa, easy,” patton says. “let’s not walk yet—”

“not that i didn’t before, but i now, truly, know that i never would have been cut out to do pointe with roman,” logan announces, arms stilling, but still held out for balance.

patton laughs. “there’s a bit of a difference there—he’s been on tip-toe since he was learning to walk, honey.”

“you wouldn’t let patton set you down on wet grass until you were three,” virgil points out, which is true—he and patton had laughed a lot back then as logan had avoided bare feet on grass at all costs, doing some interesting baby gymnastics in his attempts to avoid it.

“i hardly see what that has to do with my balancing capabilities,” logan mutters, a little embarrassed, the way a teenager always is whenever someone brings up baby stories.

“okay, speaking of tip-toe,” patton says, “you’re putting all your weight on your toes, you gotta let the heel touch the ground.”

virgil leans a little to see—and indeed, logan is balancing on his tiptoes, as high as he can, the white heel hovering off the ground. logan, slowly, lowers and lowers until the heel thumps as it hits the ground.

“good,” patton says, hand still on logan’s shoulder. “let’s just get used to how that feels, yeah?”

logan frowns. “the weight distribution is different than i expected. i thought it would all be in the toes, not in the—” he cuts himself off.

“heels?” patton finishes for him. “that’s all okay, just—i’ll let you know how to walk. but you’re kinda getting the feel for it? is it okay if i let you go now?”

logan nods his assent, so patton takes a step back—not far enough that he wouldn’t be able to lunge for logan if logan fell—and logan wobbles, just a little, but he manages to regain his balance quickly enough.

“they hurt,” logan says, frowning.

“toe-pinching like it’s too small, hurt, or—?”

“i think it’s my feet aren’t used to it hurt,” logan admits.

“that’s perfectly normal,” patton says. “your grandma used to tell me to throw on shoes super early so that my feet would get all nice and numb.”

“that’s sick,” logan says. “the patriarchy is evil.”

“amen, brother,” virgil says dryly. 

logan preoccupies himself with shifting his bodyweight this way and that, trying to grow accustomed to it, so virgil goes over to inspect the dress a bit more—this dress, honestly, will probably be the most adjustment-intensive, so it’s probably good that it’s logan’s dress—half-listening to patton and logan discuss how logan should distribute his weight and any adjustments he might need to make to his posture and on and on.

considering patton was incredibly short, back then, it’s honestly probably a miracle that this dress even slightly fits logan well enough—and honestly, the fifties skirt effect would probably save virgil a lot of work, rather than spend any time on figuring out how exactly the lengthen the skirt to brush the floor. it’s not like virgil can really start any work right now, considering he really does need to have logan in the heels and crinoline to really get a feel for how the dress looks, but he can gather a few ideas on supplies he might need, fixes he could use for any potential problems.

it looks like his days are going to be filled with those kinds of questions for a while. brick davis wasn’t the only sideshire high student asking virgil to help with their dress; a large chunk of roman’s class had followed his lead, since, to virgil’s everlasting amusement while comparing him and remus, roman was a popular kid that people wanted to emulate, and roman’s friendship slash tutorship of all the students of isadora prince’s dance studio meant that there would also be an influx of tuxes—which, fortunately, were probably going to be way less labor-intensive than any of the dresses.

virgil’s busy jotting down things he might need to bring over or buy, not just for logan’s dress, but for all the dresses and tuxes of the sideshire kids, when patton says, “all right. walking time, do you think?”

“walking time,” logan agrees, with the grim, matter-of-fact determination of someone about to start to climb everest. 

“okay. now, remember, let’s start with half-steps, slowly, we can work your way up to your usual walk slash pace,” patton says, and virgil glances up in enough time to see logan cautiously put a foot forward.

he wobbles, and patton lunges forward, catching his hands—”i gotcha, i gotcha,” patton says, a bit of a laugh in his voice, as logan sways his way back to a balanced stance. a stray thought tickles the back of virgil’s brain, but he can’t quite identify what it is before patton starts talking again.

“don’t walk heel-toe, i’m sorry, i should have mentioned that—try putting weight on your toes first.”

“okay,” logan says, and renews his grip on patton’s hands, before carefully stepping forward once again. the thought pings at virgil again, and his brow furrows, ever so slightly, trying to identify what it might be.

“that’s it,” patton says, encouragingly. “just like that! you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

and that’s when the thought clicks into place—it’s déjà vu.

virgil’s brain flashes—logan, all of sixteen, not quite secure on his feet, but nevertheless trying to walk forward, patton moving backward with him, their hands clasped together.

it reminds virgil of logan learning how to walk.

and the mental image blooms into his mind, crystal clear, like it was yesterday; logan, all of ten months old, wearing his tiny overalls and his tiny t-shirt and his tiny little tennis shoes, mouth open and showing off all of his newly-grown baby teeth, tongue sticking out as he’d take one toddling step forward, two, patton kneeling on the black-and-white diner tile and saying in the exact same, near-laughing tone, that’s it, honey, that’s it! papa’s gotcha! c’mon, lo-lo, you got this! the sight of logan walking new enough that it was enough to stop twenty-three year old virgil in his tracks, watching eagle-eyed as patton shuffled backwards on his knees, eyes wide, encouraging and watchful, and so thrilled as logan babbled a stream of nonsense at him, stamping his way forward, hands wrapped around patton’s fingers.

and a laugh breaks through the memory, and suddenly he’s back in the present; virgil, all of thirty-nine, watching a nearly-full-grown logan, in his officious suit jacket and tie, struggling to take a few steps forward in his new high heels, brow furrowed still, but no childish urge to stick out his tongue; patton, taller, healthier, happier, overall, voice deeper but the tone’s still the same—absolutely thrilled at the concept of logan learning how to do anything, another milestone for logan to succeed in, another instance to celebrate. 

virgil remembers, too, logan’s soft, chubby little baby hands, wrapped around virgil’s fingers, staggering toward him, the way virgil’s voice would get softer and how quickly it became second-nature to catch logan if he fell. logan’s shrieking laughs, logan’s babbling in his ear, logan’s cries going quiet when virgil shushed and rocked him.  the sweet, babyish sigh logan would let out whenever he fell asleep against virgil’s chest; his head resting against virgil’s shoulder, his weight and warmth in virgil’s arms. 

logan’s far too big for that now.

virgil’s heart pangs—when did they all get so old?—but especially at the sight of logan, almost an adult, taller than patton, nearly as tall as virgil, and almost as old as patton had been that day he’d crashed into the diner for the first time. 

and now here he was; in high school, and preparing to be presented to society as an adult. granted, as somewhat of a prank. but the idea’s still there; logan is almost an adult. soon, logan would be making his way in the world.

soon, he wouldn’t need them to hold his hands. 

“you got this!” patton cheers, as logan slowly, gradually, walks a lap of half-steps around the room without wobbling too much, without the fear of falling down. “you’re gonna be a heels-walking professional by the time of the debutante ball!”

virgil swallows, and echoes patton, voice perhaps a bit thicker than usual, “yeah, kid, you definitely got this.”

logan glances up from the ground to flash a quick smile in virgil’s direction, and virgil takes a deep breath before he crosses the room to take a look at how logan’s handling it; sure, patton had had walking-in-heels lessons, but virgil had definitely worn heels more recently than patton had.

and logan still needs them to hold his hands, for now. just a little while longer.