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the-prince-and-the-thief · 5 years ago

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//Y’all I hope you like text walls, because that’s what yer getting

|| The Basics ||

Name: Goro Akechi

Nickname(s): Detective Prince, Crow, Black Mask

Age: 18 (20 in some AUs)

Species: Human

Religious Belief: Not religious, would probably smile and nod if you said god deserved a shot in the head.

|| Personal ||

Sins: Lust / Greed / Gluttony / Sloth / Pride / Envy / Wrath

Virtues: Chastity / Charity / Diligence / Humility /Kindness / Patience / Justice (He questions why chastity is a virtue but admits to being a virgin)

Primary Goals In Life: Depends on the AU. The usual answer is “Make my dad’s life hell, then kill myself”. In the Amnesiac AU, his goal is just to regain his memories, as he knew he was working on something very important with Wakaba before the loss of his memories. In the Post-Game AU, he’s just trying to figure out what to do with his life.

Languages Known: Japanese, some English (he’s not great at it but he tries.)

Secrets: MANY. His whole life is a lie Also he’s gay. He’s trying to keep that a secret but even some of his fangirls have figured it out.

Quirks: Names everything in his house, obsessed with animals and pets but only has a roomba, gets distracted while talking easily and just starts rambling, gets much more formal when nervous, forgets to eat but when he does he eats p much everything, never seems to gain weight no matter what he eats, his hands are super sensitive so he almost never takes off his gloves, overthinks everything.

Savvies: Logic, deduction, investigation, planning, athletics, biking, bouldering, academics.

|| Physical ||

Height: 5'10″

Weight: 141 lbs

Scars/Birthmarks: None.

Abilities/Powers: A... a lot. Driving shadows berserk, Wild card abilities (multiple personas, etc), also he’s a very good detective despite uh, initially basically being rigged into his position.

Restrictions: He’s weak to curses, both in the literal metaverse sense and the metaphorical sense. He really doesn’t handle the negative well-- criticisms, anger, sadness, etc. He is desperate for positive attention and craves love, to the point he’ll do stupid, stupid stuff to obtain what he wants. He has serious trust issues and mental health problems. Also, he’s not as free as he’d like in any aspect. His job and his conspiracy work basically make him a puppet to adults, while his reputation prevents him from being more open with himself and living normally, and his fangirls make it difficult for him to move about the city freely. He’s in a gilded cage.

|| Favorites ||

Favourite Drink: Coffee. (In terms of alcohol, a Kahlua iced coffee.)

Favourite Pizza Topping: I can see him liking Margherita pizza and pesto pizza a lot.

Favourite Color: Beige. YES REALLY. Second favorite color is wine red.

Favourite Music Genre: death metal He’s not picky, but classical or instrumental stuff is nice! He really likes the work of Yuki Kajiura!

Favourite Book Genre: If it is a book that isn’t a textbook, he will read it. He actually likes fantasy and sci-fi books with deep lore, but he doesn’t have a lot of time to read them. He has a secret love of romance novels because they’re the closest he’ll ever get to romantic interaction.

Favourite Movie Genre: He actually doesn’t watch a lot of movies. Romance movies though. He cries over romance movies.

Favourite Season: Spring~. It’s the perfect season to go out and do things!

Favourite Butt Type: He doesn’t care as long as it’s cute and perky. Ren’s. Ren’s butt basically.

Favourite Swear Word: Judging by the game? Shit.

Favourite Scent: Vanilla. His shampoo is vanilla scented. He likes the scent of coffee a lot too.

Favourite Quote: He’ll say it’s some deep philosophical quote from something obscure. He’ll say that. But. His favorite quote is “I am the rose that slashes evil”. He really likes Tuxedo Mask.

|| Fun Stuff ||

Bottom or Top: Bottom mostly, but he’d probably switch every once in a while.

Sings In The Shower: Only when he’s in a really good mood. So almost never.

Likes Bad Puns: Will shoot you if you make one in his presence.

Morality: Lawful / Neutral / Chaotic / Good / Gray / Evil (the crossed out ones are the real ones)

Build: Slender / Scrawny / Bony / Fit / Athletic / Herculean / Babyfat / Pudgy / Obese / Other.

Favourite Food: He doesn’t actually know! He does like sweets a lot though, and genuinely does love pancakes. Despite being something of a glutton/gourmet/foodie, he doesn’t really pay much attention to what he’s eating most of the time-- mostly because he barely eats.

“Boss” Theme Music : Will Power

Their Opinion On The Mun: "She seems like a reasonable enough person, however... if she could stop calling me... any of the things she calls me... I would greatly appreciate it.” He’s being nice he hates my guts.

|| The Basics ||

Name: Ren Amamiya

Nickname(s): Renren, Frizzy Hair, Joker, Whatever insult Akechi feels like calling him at the moment.

Age: 17 (19 in some AUs)

Species: Human

Religious Belief: He’s not religious but he would say Satanism to troll people.

|| Personal ||

Sins: Lust / Greed / Gluttony / Sloth / Pride / Envy / Wrath

Virtues: Chastity / Charity / Diligence / Humility /Kindness / Patience / Justice

Primary Goals In Life: Dependant on the AU. He considers reforming society to be extremely important in all of them, though. It’s more a matter of what he decides to focus on. Default, his main focus is on the phantom thieves. Black Gloves Ren’s ultimate goal is to free Akechi from the rigged game they’re playing and give him true freedom and happiness. Post-Game Ren’s goal (which he’s embarrassed admitting) is to get into politics so that he can campaign for human rights (especially LGBT rights and criminal justice reform), and one day making it so he can one day marry the person he loves. (He also wants to propose to Akechi literally the second gay marriage is legal in his country, either in public or private.)

Languages Known: Japanese, English (Black Gloves speaks it fluently, the others are about as good as you’d expect a Japanese high schooler to be at English).

Secrets: Only really applicable to Black Gloves Ren. I mean, aside from the whole being a phantom thief thing. Black Gloves Ren is hiding that he remembers the timelines because he thinks nobody will believe him.

Quirks: Basically unreadable most of the time. His poker face is godly. He flirts a lot, but if you flirt with him he’ll absolutely lose it. Cats seem drawn to him. Tends to bring up earlier conversations much, MUCH later at the worst time possible. A huge troll always.

Savvies: MAX STATS BOYEEEEE, athletics, is being a cocky little shit a savvy? Because that. Making coffee, cooking, somehow getting the top grades in school without ever studying, out-gambitting major conspiracies.

|| Physical ||

Height: 5'9″

Weight: 145 lbs (yeah he weighs more than Akechi. It’s mostly muscle.)

Scars/Birthmarks: Idk why but I can see him having a mole on his right shoulder. I have no good reason for this. My brain just says “yes, this would look good.”

Abilities/Powers: Wild Card abilities.

Restrictions: Much like his persona, he’s weak to bless. By which I mean his luck is total ass. Nothing goes right for him, no good deed goes unpunished, and if it weren’t for his sheer skill and the people around him, he’d basically be totally fucked always. Also, he’s kind of a criminal on probation and whatnot.

|| Favorites ||

Favourite Drink: Coffee.

Favourite Pizza Topping: “Pineapple and anchovies.” Ren. Ren. Now is not the time to troll. He actually doesn’t care.

Favourite Color: Beige. Black and dark gray. “Like my soul.” REN PLZ.

Favourite Music Genre: He likes things like Jazz and Rock.

Favourite Book Genre: B O O K. He’ll read pretty much anything.

Favourite Movie Genre: He’s not particular. He just likes watching movies in general. Obviously though, he loves heist/criminal/thriller stuff.

Favourite Season: Winter. He likes snow and cold.

Favourite Butt Type: “Same as Sir Mix-A-Lot” Ren, why do you know that song????

Favourite Swear Word: Fuck. Preferably said quietly.

Favourite Scent: Coffee. He also likes the scent of curry, but he wouldn’t want to be surrounded by it all the time.

Favourite Quote: “Where is the real you?”

|| Fun Stuff ||

Bottom or Top: He likes being a top but he’s also a massive masochist so, honestly, it’s 50/50.

Sings In The Shower: No, but he’ll hum.

Likes Bad Puns: “I am the pungeon master, here to punish evildoers.”

Morality: Lawful / Neutral / Chaotic / Good / Gray / Evil

Build: Slender / Scrawny / Bony / Fit / Athletic / Herculean / Babyfat / Pudgy / Obese / Other.

Favourite Food: CURRYYYYYYYYYY. It wasn’t his favorite food before going to Tokyo, but it is now. It just has a lot of good memories for him.

“Boss” Theme Music : Last Surprise

Their Opinion On The Mun: "Heh. She’s fun. I’ve never seen someone who pushes Akechi’s buttons as much as I do.”

Tagged by: Stole

Tagging: All yall

#ooc #i finally did it #this took forever #the prince #the thief

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chungledown-bimothy · 6 years ago

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Lost Ourselves in the Bright Lights

Hello hello hello! About a month ago, a LOVELY anon gave me a multitude of prompts. One of which was “Virgil and Logan are at a concert. Virgil cause he loves the band and Logan because he brought his brother (Patton or Roman) and at first Logan Hates the whole thing but then he sees Virgil and Virgil is singing along and he thinks virgils beautiful and that’s how they meet”.

Here’s to you, Prompt Anon. <3

Warnings: some swearing, some sexual innuendos/suggestiveness, but nothing anywhere near explicit.

Pairing(s): analogical, logince as brothers, patton is logan and roman’s dad. very brief virgil and remy as friends.

Word Count: 3701 (a Big boy)

Tag List: @ren-allen @ilovemygaydad @ccecode @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @bloodropsblog @funsizedgremlin @raygelkitty @roxyfox23 @thomasthesandersengine

"I understand that you want to go, Roman, but what does this have to do with me?"

"Because, Logan, dad says I can only go if you come with me 'to keep me out of trouble,’" Roman begged.

Logan sighed. "That's not fair to either of us. Aside from the fact that we graduate high school next month and are capable of keeping ourselves safe, now I must choose to either suffer through an evening of mediocre music played far too loudly to be safe or prevent you from seeing your favorite band."

"That's what I told dad, but he wouldn't budge! Please, Lo? I'll do your chores for the next two weeks if you come with me."

"Okay, I will. Don't expect me to have fun, though."

"I have a feeling you're gonna have a better time than you think, little brother."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Not only are we twins, but I am taller than you!" Patton stood in the doorway with a soft smile, listening to his sons bicker. He knew full well that Roman would have been just fine at the concert by himself, but something told him Logan should go with his brother, and all of the best things in Patton's life had started with that same feeling.

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

"Why is it already so loud?" Logan complained.

"It's called hype, calculator watch!"

"It is obnoxious. Enjoy the concert; I'll be at that table. Come find me when it's over."

"God, you're such a nerd. Did you even listen to the playlist I sent you, so you knew what to expect tonight?"

"Are you referring to the playlist entitled 'Mayday Parade Owns My Sad Gay Ass'? If so, no. All of this genre sounds alike, and the name itself is absurd, bordering on oxymoronic."

"You're absurd and bordering on oxymoronic!" Roman cried.

"I'm certain you don't know what that word means. Regardless, you're wasting your time here with me; it appears that what is colloquially known as the 'mosh pit' is filling up, and I know how much you wanted to be there."

"Good looking out, Lo! Mayday's going on soon anyway. I don't know how you think you're gonna be able to read once they start playing, but I hope you enjoy your book."

"Go have fun. It's what we're here for, after all." Logan smiled briefly before turning to the e-reader he brought, loaded with the newest Song of Ice and Fire novel. It wasn't long before the band started playing, and, loath as he was to admit it, Roman was right. Between the flashing lights and the ear-splitting volume, focusing on a book was simply impossible, so he decided to indulge in an exercise in observation, or 'people watching'.

Logan Sanders did not believe in fate or kismet or providence or any term one could use for that sentiment. He believed that the universe is cold and indifferent, and that even the most serendipitous events are simply chance. But, for a split second, after about fifteen minutes or so, he believed all of it when the spotlight paused its sweep over the crowd, illuminating the most beautiful man Logan had ever seen. He was a lost Bernini sculpture brought to life, soft lines belying a quiet grace and strength. Lost in the music, he was swaying and singing along, and he was radiant- purple hair and sharp features glowing in the light.

Logan Sanders certainly did not believe in love at first sight; he didn't even believe in love at all. In that moment, however, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he needed to meet this man, that he was special.

And that absolutely terrified him.

He tried to keep his eyes off of him, he really did, but it was impossible to look away for long. So when the band took a break and his mystery man went to the bar to get a drink, Logan knew it was his chance.

"I apologize if I'm being too forward, but I couldn't help but observe you in the crowd tonight, and you are stunning."

"I wondered if you were going to come talk to me. What were you trying to read, before it got too loud?"

"I- I'm sorry, what?" The man was even more handsome up close; dark eyeshadow and lipstick contrasting what Roman would call 'killer contour and highlight'. The overall effect was truly striking, leaving Logan speechless for the first time.

"A guy dressed like a teacher at a Mayday concert trying to read and clearly wanting to disappear into the walls? I'm sure most people, like you wanted, didn't notice you, but I'm not most people." He smirked, looking Logan up and down.

"Clearly." Logan replied, returning his 'elevator eyes', if he remembered the colloquialism correctly, and finding his voice again. "My name's Logan."

"Virgil. You obviously don't want to be here, so why are you?"

"Correction- I didn't want to be here. My brother loves the band, and our father insisted I accompany him."

"Past tense? What changed?"

"You're an intelligent man, Virgil. You tell me."

"You've licked your lips twice while we've been talking, and your breathing is uneven and shallow. And I'm fairly certain that if I do this," Virgil stepped forward, getting as close to Logan as possible without touching. "Your pupils will dilate and your breath will catch. Just. Like. That." He finished, whispering.

Logan looked up at him and noted the same physiological responses. "That's not what I asked, now, is it?"

"No, it isn't. What do you want, Logan?"

"Once again questions you already know the answers to."

"Once again, you're not answering them. Maybe I just want to hear you say it."

"Maybe I don't want to give you the satisfaction."

"Now that's just not true. If satisfaction wasn't on your mind, you wouldn't still be standing so close to me." Virgil leaned in and tilted his head, daring Logan to make the next move.

"What do you want, Virgil?" Logan whispered, eyes locked on his lips.

"You. All of you," Virgil confessed.

"Then take me." He barely got the words out before Virgil closed the gap between them.

Logan was no blushing virgin; while he hadn't had a relationship per se, exploring one's sexuality is a traditional part of the high school experience. He'd never been kissed like that, though. Like the answers to the world's most profound questions lay between their lips, and then oh. Virgil's hands were on his hips, pulling him even closer.

Logan broke the kiss, panting slightly. "We… we shouldn't be doing this here."

"You're right. Come back to my place? It's not far from here."

"I want to say yes, but…"

"You can't." Virgil stepped back, and Logan's heart metaphorically dropped when he saw the sadness in his face.

"If I were here alone, I absolutely would, but I promised I'd keep an eye on my brother."

"I get that, and I respect the fuck out of you for it. Here, put your number into my phone, and then come dance with me."

"I'll gladly give you my number, but I can't dance."

"Well, you're in luck, then. There's only one rule when it comes to dancing."

"What, pray tell, is it?" He asked, not looking up from Virgil's phone.

"Pick a partner who knows what he's doing." With a wink, Virgil took his phone back and led Logan to the dance floor.

The rest of the night was a blur of pounding bass, stolen kisses, and hands everywhere.

All too soon, the show ended, as all things must. With great reluctance, Virgil and Logan parted ways with a promise to meet again soon. Logan wasn't above admitting that while he didn't want him to have to, he enjoyed watching Virgil walk away.

"Ooooh, who was that, Lo-Lo?" Logan jumped, not having heard his brother's approach.

"Oh, that was, uh… that was no one."

"Falsehood, as you say so often. You were all over each other! I'd never seen you like that before. You like him!"

"Preposterous. I don't know him. And, as you said, my behavior was entirely uncharacteristic. I don't know what came over me."

"You stopped thinking with your big brain, and apparently your little brain has game. Please tell me you got his number."

"I don't understand; I only have one brain, and it is the average size for an 18-year-old male. Regardless, I did not get his number, but I gave him mine."

"You're gonna have to look that one up yourself- I'm not explaining it to you. Going off of how he was looking at you, I guarantee he'll call, and soon."

"I… honestly don't know if I want that or not."

"Trust me, you do. Come on, let's go home."

"That is the most rational thing you've said all day. And please don't say anything to our father about this. He'll be insufferable."

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

Virgil woke up the next morning with dreams of dark eyes and a sharp tongue dancing through his mind. Some of them, though, were memory, not fantasy, and that realization brought his thoughts to a grinding halt, leaving just one behind: oh fuck.

In an instant, the night replayed in his mind's eye. The music, the dancing, the cute guy looking miserable and trying to read, the flirting, the kissing, the proposition, being turned down, the dancing. The only things he didn't remember were what possessed him to be that bold and the guy's name. He grabbed his phone and saw that the guy put his name, Logan, in with his phone number. One mystery solved, and he knew he wouldn't be able to solve the second alone.

[V]- 911 im fucked

[Rem]- i assume not in the good way?

[V]- no, im texting you with a dick in my ass.

[Rem]- 1) we both know you aren't a bottom 2) watch the attitude, babe. you sent the 911. what's up?

[V]- well i met a guy at the concert last night

[Rem]- FINALLY. was he any good?

[V]- we didn't fuck

[Rem]- no offense doll, but why are you telling me about him then?

[V]- i have his number, but i wasn't really me last night. i was smooth and confident. what happens if we meet up and he hates actual me?

[Rem]- then he can fuck off? i don't get why you're buggin about this

[V]- because im me and need a common sense filter sometimes

[Rem]- you're welcome, girl. now hit him up and lmk how it goes, mmkay?

[V]- ofc

----

Logan's alarm went off the next morning at 7:30 as usual, but, for the first time in years, he was tempted to turn it off and sleep in. A single thought, however, floated to the front of his mind, and he was wide awake. Virgil. The handsome stranger who, with a smirk and a kiss, made Logan question everything he thought he knew about love attraction as well as himself. What happened to me last night? I'm never that bold, that impulsive. It was completely irrational, not to mention possibly dangerous if I'd taken him up on his offer like I wanted to. Dear Newton, I wanted to. Well, I'm not going to solve anything just laying here, and Crofter's helps solve any problem. Breakfast time.

A few minutes later, Logan was in the kitchen with his Crofters-smothered English muffin and a steaming mug of his favorite tea when Patton came in.

"Hey, kiddo! Did you have fun last night?"

"Erm, yeah. More than I initially anticipated, in fact."

"That's great! Did you make any new friends?"

"I don't know what Roman told you, but it was nothing, and nothing will come of it, so there's no point in dwelling on it."

Patton chuckled. "I haven't seen Roman since you guys left for the concert. He's still sleeping." Logan blanched, realizing he'd given himself away. "Now, kiddo, wanna tell your old pop about this 'nothing'? Seems like it's weighing pretty heavily on your mind; maybe we can talk it out."

"It really is nothing, dad."

"Hmm. Well, if you don't want to talk about it, how about I guess, and you let me know if I'm right?" Realizing he wasn't going to be able to avoid the topic, Logan nodded. "Awesome. Okay, so, you're all out of sorts and insisted 'there's no point in dwelling on it', so it's a problem you don't think you can solve. The last time I saw you like this, you were 14 and had the biggest crush on that boy… what was his name?"

"Gabriel," Logan muttered, embarrassed.

"That's it! I knew he was no good for you. Anyway, I think this is about a boy you met last night. Now, you're my little boy, and I've been to enough concerts to know that I don't want to know the details, but to throw you for a loop this big after one evening, there must have been a real connection. Am I on the right track?" Logan nodded, impressed and embarrassed by how accurate his dad was. "Thank you for being honest with me, Lo. I know feelings are messy and can be scary. I was absolutely terrified when I met your mother."

"Dad, we don't need to- this isn't-"

"It's okay, Logan. Yes, she's gone, but she's still part of us. I know how much it changed all of us, especially you, but you can't shut out all possibility of love because ours didn't work out. I won't pretend it didn't hurt like heck when she left, but I wouldn't trade what happened for the world; that pain was nothing compared to the love I have for you and your brother or how happy you both make me every single day." Patton reached across the table and wiped a tear from Logan's cheek. "The boy you met last night. He's special, right?"

"Y- yeah, I think so. He brought out a side to me I didn't know existed."

"Then go for it. Take a chance."

"I… I think I would if I could."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have any way of getting in contact with him. I gave him my phone number, but didn't think to get his."

"He really did a number on you, huh? Well, look at it this way: it's out of your hands. What happens next is up to him. I know it's hard, but really all you can do at this point is to try to put it out of that brilliant mind of yours. Hey, do you wanna watch that Sherlock show you love so much with, uh, what's his name? Scratch-and-sniff Cabbagepatch?"

"It's Benedict Cumberbatch, and you hate BBC Sherlock. I've been trying to get you to give it another chance for the last year."

"That's what I said. Bumblebee Anglerfish."

"Getting further away. Benedict Cumberbatch."

"Burgerking Capncrunch."

"Never mind. You're clearly trying to distract me from the Virgil problem. Thank you, dad. I love you too."

"Virgil, eh? Nice name."

"Oh sh-"

"Language!"

"Sorry, dad."

"It's alright, kiddo. Come on, let's see what all the fuss is about Bandersnatch Cuttlefish."

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

As difficult as it was to decide that he was going to message Logan, actually typing and sending a message was infinitely worse. "Hey" was too vague. "Is this Logan? It's Virgil from last night" implied that he thought Logan gave him a fake number, which he didn't. "This is Virgil. What's up?" could be interpreted as a booty call, which it wasn't. After an hour of staring at his phone, he took a deep breath and sent a message.

[To:Logan?]- Hey, Logan, this is Virgil.

Now all he could do was wait. He hated waiting.

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

Patton and Roman, worried about Logan, did all they could to keep him distracted, but nothing could stop him from checking his phone at least once every 5 minutes. It was shortly after 3pm when it lit up with a new message.

[Unknown Number]- Hey, Logan, this is Virgil.

"Umm... Roman?" Logan called across the house.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come here? He just messaged me." He'd hardly finished his sentence when he heard a thud and Roman's footsteps, running to join him in the living room.

"I told you he would! What did he say? What are you going to say?"

"That's why I called for you. Here, take a look and tell me what I should do. I don't have any experience with this, and reading the message gives me an odd feeling in my abdomen."

"Those are butterflies, calculator watch! Wow, you really like him, huh?"

"I assume you mean metaphoric butterflies referring to the influx of dopamine, norepinephrine, and testosterone released when one is experiencing attraction, as it is impossible for any lepidopteran to survive, let alone reproduce, in the human digestive system. And yes, I believe I may have... feelings for him that are far stronger than the briefness of our acquaintance should allow."

"Oh my god, you are insufferable. Now, let's look at the message. Simple, to the point. He's as nervous about this as you are, Lo."

"How could you possibly know that from just 5 words?"

"Science is your thing, love is mine. I also literally just got a 5 on the AP Psychology exam. You want my advice, here's what I've got."

"I apologize. I asked you for advice; questioning that advice was bad form."

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, he's nervous. I think your best bet is to match his tone. Don't try to pretend you aren't nervous, too. I won't tell you what to say, just that you should be completely honest. In any relationship, but here especially. You're afraid he won't like you; if you keep your messages legit, he'll get to know you, and I'm sure he'll love you."

"You can't know how he'll feel about me, but I appreciate the advice, and will certainly take it."

[To:Virgil]- Hello, Virgil. I wasn't sure you'd reach out, to be honest. The reply came almost instantly, which he wasn't expecting.

[Virgil]- I wasn't sure I would, either. Do you… wanna get coffee or something some time?

"Oh my god, I ship it so much! Y'all are so cute I can't even!!" Roman shrieked, scaring Logan so much he fell off the couch.

"E equals mc scared! Why did you feel the need to scream like that?"

"You guys are so precious. Clearly, you aren't the only one who was uncharacteristically bold in the face of new love. You're going to say yes, right?"

"It would be foolish of me to decline, given the emotions I've felt over the last..." he checked his watch, "approximately 21 hours."

"Take him to Jimin's cafe! Now that he's got a boyfriend, it's all domestic and cute. The perfect romantic location for a first date!"

"You mean the cafe where the barista put salt in your soda?"

"Okay, technically, yes, Jimin did that, but I was flirting with Taehyung. I deserved it, really."

"Despite my better judgment, I'll propose we go there, but only because I'm at a loss for an acceptable alternative."

[To:Virgil]- Coffee would be excellent. My brother's friend runs a cafe downtown- Bulletproof, I believe it's called. I've been reliably informed that it is a common first date location; are you available tomorrow, by chance?

"Oh my goodness, Logan, you are a disaster. It's obvious that you need me to teach-"

[Virgil]- haha yeah, I know Bulletproof. Really good coffee. Would 11 tomorrow morning work?

"Never mind. Clearly, he's into your nerd vibe, for some reason. Alright, I've gotta leave before dying of loneliness. Good luck in your romantic endeavors, brother dearest."

"Clearly you are not distraught enough to abandon your propensity for hyperbole. Thank you for the well wishes, and I truly hope that you will find someone to satisfy your romantic inclinations soon. You certainly deserve it."

"Ew, gross. Mushy Logan is weird. I'm leaving." With that, Roman stood up and left the room.

[To:Virgil]- 11 tomorrow would be perfect. I look forward to seeing you again.

[Virgil]- same. See you then :)

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It was 10:55, and Logan was sipping an Americano, so lost in his thoughts and anxieties that he didn't hear the bells on the door jingle when someone walked in. He was startled back to reality by a barista's cheerful "annyeonghaseyo!", the cafe's standard greeting for customers, and looked up to see him. Virgil. His heart started racing as he took in the more casual look, leather pants and tight t-shirt swapped for ripped skinny jeans and a hoodie with purple plaid patches and no makeup, except for some dark eye shadow.

As Virgil got closer, Logan stood to meet him.

"Hello, Virgil. It's, it's nice to see you again." Logan's heart, already beating faster than was strictly speaking healthy, started pounding when Virgil smiled and blushed.

"You too, Logan. I, um, I'm gonna go order a drink. I'll be right back." Logan tried not to stare as Virgil walked away, but it was an exercise in futility.

A few minutes later, Virgil returned, drink in hand.

"May I ask what you're drinking?" Logan asked, internally cringing at the banal attempt at conversation.

"It's a caramel macchiato. Usually I'm an Americano kind of guy, but that barista recommended it and made it sound really good, and he was totally right."

"In that case, here's to finding pleasure where you don't expect to." Logan raised his mug in a half-toast. Virgil raised his in return and smirked; only then did Logan realize the double entendre and blush.

"So we're back talking about pleasure, eh?"

Logan cleared his throat. "Perhaps this is not the appropriate venue for that conversation. May I suggest space as an alternative subject?"

"VIVA LA PLUTO!" Virgil shouted, immediately looking down and blushing. "Sorry. Impulse. I'm clearly still bitter about some things."

"No, no. I completely agree. August 2006 was a dark, dark time. Viva la Pluto indeed."

They spent hours in that cafe debating, joking, and flirting. This time, Logan accepted Virgil's offer to go home with him.

#sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #analogical #logince #logicality #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #human au #remy sanders #my writing

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hellosaltysaladcollectionstuff · 6 years ago

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SEVENTEEN AND HIGH, Nikki Darling swaggers down the middle of Garvey Boulevard, a busy thoroughfare in the San Gabriel Valley, as cars swerve around her: “‘Three Days’ by Jane’s Addiction is playing on my Walkman and I feel like I’m in a movie, like I’m an assassin.” She stands in the street with a cigarette hanging from her lips, with “someplace to be or maybe nowhere to go.” She taunts the cars as they pass: “Fly around me, motherfuckers! Fly around me like I’m not even here!”

In an opening scene brazen with feminine adolescent rage and emotion, Nikki Darling the author dares readers of her debut novel, Fade Into You, to come in close. By writing in the New Narrative style popularized by Eileen Myles (Chelsea Girls) and Michelle Tea (Rose of No Man’s Land), Darling keeps the veil between fiction and nonfiction purposefully thin, and having her protagonist carry her name builds intimacy. In an interview with the popular feminist podcast Call Your Girlfriend, Darling said she named her character Nikki because “being in the interiority of a teenage girl is not something readers are always familiar with.” In Fade Into You, Darling gives us more than an intimate view of a teenage girl; she gives us an intimate view of a young, mixed-race Chicana living in the suburbs of Los Angeles, the kind of portrait that is nearly nonexistent in L.A. letters.

Luis J. Rodriguez’s Always Running: La Vida Loca: Gang Days in L.A., an award-winning 1993 memoir that shares the tale of a young man struggling to survive gang life and addiction in the 1980s San Gabriel Valley, is the most notable and celebrated literary depiction of Chicanx teen life in Los Angeles. But not every Chicanx can identify with living “la vida loca.” Darling’s protagonist struggles to find her identity in a city that says to be Mexican can only be one thing, an issue many Mexican-American/Chicanx Angelenos understand. As Nikki thinks,

It would be my luck not just to be half-Mexican, but the wrong kind of Mexican. I am not from East Los. My people are borderlands, the frontera. I am a pale ghost of a bloody past. A daughter of the viceroyalty. A lady of Spain. But I’m not that either. I’m me. I’m SGV. I watch from the schoolyard as the sad boys mark up the EMF, throw down the emero. I live in the cool shadows of libraries.

I grew up in the SGV in the ’90s, and when I was 17 I liked to wear loose-fitting, faded blue jeans with a white T-shirt and blue Chucks. It’s how I felt most beautiful. One afternoon as I was sitting on the front stoop of my grandparents’ Boyle Heights home, my party-crew cousin from La Puente, in stiff Dickies and dark hoodie, looked down his chin at me and asked, “Eh, you like a rocker? You a skater? What are you?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I read his questions to mean, Why aren’t you more Mexican?

On a different day, a friend from my hometown of San Gabriel came with my family and me to that same Boyle Heights home for Sunday menudo. When my father parked in the driveway and I slid open the door to our Dodge van, she refused to get out. “I’m going to be shot!” she screamed, tears running down her face.

Her shocked reaction meant, I didn’t know you were that kind of Mexican.

By the late ’90s, I had not yet seen in books or TV these disparate expectations of what it meant to look and act Mexican. But I had seen them in two movies: My Family (1995) and Selena (1997). The latter, written and directed by Gregory Nava, put into words how I often felt, a dilemma perfectly articulated by Selena’s father, played by Edward James Olmos, as he rants to his family about the possibility of Selena touring in Mexico:

We gotta prove to the Mexicans how Mexican we are. And we gotta prove to the Americans how American we are. We gotta be more Mexican than the Mexicans and more American than the Americans both at the same time. It’s exhausting! Man! Nobody knows how tough it is to be a Mexican-American.

But Selena grew up in Corpus Christi, Texas, a vastly different setting from Fade Into You’s San Gabriel Valley, California, which in Darling’s hands becomes its own character. Schools, streets, and favorite hangouts of this L.A. suburb east of downtown are namedropped with acute knowledge, and the dialogue between Nikki and her friends — with all its dudes, mans, and bitches — is so accurate to the time and place it sounds more like transcription than fiction.

As I read, I was in awe of how much I had in common with Nikki. I, too, had a gorgeous, gay best friend I was in love with. I, too, studied theater. I, too, got high and went for pancakes at Denny’s before driving up to the mountains because they were close and we could. But as I moved further into the novel, I noticed another layer of the Mexican-American experience that is specific to the suburbs. Nikki narrates,

We are the kids of LA.

They write books about us. They make after-school specials about us. And none of it is the real us. None of it really captures who we are. But we eat it, digest it, and let it redefine us until we no longer know what is real and what is fake.

Nikki inhabits the parts of the SGV where teen movies and TV series such as Pretty in Pink and My So-Called Life are filmed, but these stories never center people like her. When she says, “They write after-school specials about us,” the us is never really us. The best we could hope for was to be the quiet and queer best friend, the Rickie Vasquez to the story’s Angela Chase. Hollywood used our streets but not our faces, and this became a kind of trauma.

I attended a private school in Pasadena not far from Casa Walsh and Dylan’s surfer bungalow (RIP Luke Perry), and my friends and I behaved as if we were characters on Beverly Hills, 90210 even though we were in 91107 and a good 25 miles from the über-rich neighborhood. Like Nikki attending a party at a midcentury home at the edge of South Pasadena, nearly everything we did felt cinematic: “Chelo and I walk into the party and I can tell things are about to get real cinema tonight. It’s a night when this city we live in really shows itself.”

To keep the fantasy alive, many classmates bleached their hair, and when people started driving, a good number opted for convertibles without concern for the make or model. But our proximity to Hollywood teen life affected more than our outward appearance — at least for me, it corrupted my very sense of self. I remember one day bounding into my house after being dropped off by a friend in her white convertible and catching my reflection in the large mirror that hung across from the front door. I didn’t recognize the person I saw. The image of my own brown face shocked me, and for a moment I was invisible.

Latinx people make up nearly 50 percent of the population of Los Angeles, with the majority being Mexican or of Mexican descent. And yet even though most films and TV shows are made here, I can count on two hands the number that center Mexican-American stories. In the afterglow of the 2019 Oscars, Los Angeles Times features writer and taco historian Gustavo Arellano tweeted, “Still waiting for Hollywood to give love to Chicanos.” Sure, over the last six years a Mexican director has won Best Director five times, but these are Mexican nationals, which is a very different experience. What of the immigrant families, children of immigrants, and multigenerational Mexican Americans who live in this town and help make it work?

The literary world maintains a similar sparsity. As a senior in high school in 1998, I read The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros in my English class. Though it is set in Chicago, I saw a young, Mexican-American character in literature for the first time, and the book thrilled me. In my 20s, I obsessed over Michele Serros’s Chicana Falsa: And Other Stories of Death, Identity, and Oxnard (1993), and in my 30s I fell in love with Isabel Quintero’s Gabi, a Girl in Pieces (2014), which follows a 17-year-old, light-skinned Chicana who lives in the Inland Empire and loves poetry and hot Cheetos. Author Helena María Viramontes (Under the Feet of Jesus) also tells stories about young people living in East Los Angeles, but a nuanced view of growing up Chicana in the L.A. suburbs has been missing until now.

We SGV kids live close enough to Hollywood to be infected by its story lines and cultural sprawl, and yet only our streets are worthy of making it onto film. We live close enough to East Los Angeles to know we aren’t the right kind of Mexican, and yet we’re at the same time too Mexican. We are pushed into the margins of pop culture. So while Nikki Darling the character is walking down the middle of Garvey Boulevard dying to be seen, it’s Nikki Darling the author who’s shouting: We’re here! We matter! We live on these streets! And that’s a reflection I recognize.

Women Who Submit co-founder Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo’s work has appeared on Terrain.org and in KCET Departures. She is the author of Posada: Offerings of Witness and Refuge (Sundress Publications, 2016).

The post Invisible No More: How “Fade Into You” Reflects the L.A. Chicanx Experience appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books http://bit.ly/2JR8b01

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