#marshy answers

[marshmellowtea]

i desperately need people to realize there's a difference between "women need to coddle (cis) men's feelings even when they're being misogynistic uwu" and "we shouldn't tolerate misogyny but actively keeping men separate from women and treating them like they're inherently dangerous to women is only going to worsen the problem (and also this mindset causes IMMEASURABLE harm to nonbinary, trans, and intersex people, who are already incredibly at risk right now)" and i need people to realize that NOW

[angelsgame-au]

♥ Welcome to ANGELtown!!

♥ What is this blog about? ♥

This is a simple little ask blog for my Deltarune Angel!Player AU. Most of this blog will be silly and fun, but there may be some lore sprinkled in here and there.

Click here for the lore specific masterpost Click here for the asks masterpost (messy/slightly outdated) Click here for the FAQ (coming soon)

♥ Characters ♥

The main characters of this ask blog are Angel and Kris. Other characters may show up from time to time but most asks should be directed to Angel and Kris.

Kris uses they/them pronouns ONLY in this AU

Angel uses any pronouns but typically goes by they/them

Most asks will be answered in character. It's important to note that Angel's dialogue will always have a little heart at the front of it and will typically be written in red text.

♥ Like this!!

Kris however does not have the little heart. (So if you see them talking with a heart, that's not them speaking)

♥ Rules and Boundaries ♥

I accept in character and out of character asks, however there are some rules about the content of said asks.

No NSFW

Please keep topics light. Yes there may be some darker themes in the lore/story but I don't want to delve too deep into that kind of stuff.

Please do not spam the ask box. I may be slow to respond sometimes but I promise I will get to you eventually, so please be patient

I have the right to reject an ask if I feel that it's inappropriate

Meme and non-lore ooc asks will be ignored. However you are welcome to send them to my main @marshiemonarch

Try to specify who your ask is for. If not specified I'll assume it's for Angel or a group ask depending on context.

♥ Fanart ♥

If y'all make fanart you can send it by:

tagging this blog or my main @marshiemonarch

Sending it via the ask box

using the #angels game au tag

I’m more likely to see the first two options

♥ Other Info ♥

More info will be added as time goes on.

This blog is run by @marshiemonarch

Important tags below vvvv

[sillymemes23]

who does tumblr think would be the most worthy and better ruler of the planet

so

stuff

[all-mighty-axle-arc]

*totally not pointing a knife at marshmallow's throat*

Bud, never call me tiny or short, i swear to the sfoth, i will personally DRAG you back to an alley TO EAT YOU OR EVEN ROAST YOU ALIVE, oh yeah i can be like this because its April SH- i mean fools! And the others can all believe i act like this for a JOKE

Anyways! Have a good April fools! :3

*he stares at vin, taking a step or two back as to not impale himself on the blade*

"LooK aT YOU!!! DAw, so MuCH tEMpEr IN sUCh a LiTTlE bODy. DoNTchA THiNK i AlREaDy GoT ExPERIEncE wiTh hUNgRY OPPonENtS?"

"yOU'rE oNE fUNNy JoKE!!!!"

"oH, yOU ToO. HaPpY APiRl FOoLs!"

[borgialucrezia]

I know you focus more on Lucrezia and Juan (valid), but I was curious if you knew any books that went in-depth about Giulia? If not Giulia, any about the family in general, I just love the historical sources you pull from to parallel the show

hi!! i adore giulia so much! she's a truly captivating and intelligent figure to me as she wielded significant influence within her family based on the strength of her personality. remarkably at some point she defied the pope not just once, but twice, risking herself and her loved ones in the process. however, her close bond with lucrezia remains one of my most cherished aspects of the borgia history 🙏

“Admitedly, [Giulia] was quite different from Vanozza and in a manner that was not simply due to the great difference in their ages. Where Vanozza had been dedicated both to her own financial interest and her lover’s well-being, Giulia was lighthearted and featherbrained, never looking beyond the delights of today. and where Vanozza sought to tie her lover by submission and acquiescence, Giulia displayed an independence of spirit which kept Borgia’s interest at fever pitch even while such spirit could enrage him.”

— E.R Chamberlain - The Fall of the House of Borgia

“Vasari tells us, in his Vita degli Artefici, that over the door of one of the rooms in the Borgia Tower, the artist painted a picture of the Virgin Mary in the likeness of Giulia Farnese with Alexander kneeling to her in adoration, arrayed in full pontificals. Such a thing would have been horrible, revolting, sacrilegious.”

— Rafael Sabatini, The Life of Cesare Borgia

"The fifteen-year-old Giulia was already famous for her beauty. Giulia Bella, the Romans would call her a few years later, was not only beautiful, but intelligent, “endowed with gentleness and humanity.” Blond was the preferred hair color in those days, and legend has it that Giulia was blond. But a letter written to Cesare describes her as fusco (“dark complected”) with black eyes, a round face, and quidem ardor (“a certain vivacity”)."

— Emma lucas, Lucrezia Borgia

here are some fiction/biographies where giulia has highlighted roles (some of these books delve into giulia's relationship with rodrigo and the influence ower she wielded within the family, her political maneuvering and unwavering loyalty to her loved ones, capturing her fierce intelligence and her relationship with lucrezia) :

Lucretia Borgia According to Original Documents and Correspondence of Her Day (Ferdinand Gregorovius)

The Life and times of Lucrezia Borgia, Maria Bellonci

Cesare Borgia: La sua vita, La sua famiglia, I suoi tempi, Gustavo Sacerdote.

Lucrezia Borgia, Emma Lucas

Cesare Borgia, Rafael Sabatini

The Fall of the House of Borgia, E.R Chamberlain

Blood & Beauty, Sarah Dunant

The Borgias: Power & Fortune, Paul Strathern

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

🎭 for the zelda asks

🎭 When you play Zelda games, do you imagine being Link yourself, or is Link a separate character to you? Basically, are you Link, or is Link a separate character?

Honestly I have never thought about this until now. When I littler when BotW came out, I always thought of myself AS Link (ESPECIALLY when it came to the Gerudo outfits lol). Nowadays when I'm playing TotK, AoC, SS even, I just see Link as a separate character. It's still as fun as ever. :)

Based on this post.

[scrawnytreedemon]

happy new year!! I started the year off right (thinking of zant / the twili / the interloper war and getting mad again that we were robbed)

IT NEVER ENDS! 😭😭😭

Nintendo,,, pleace... we already have [culture]s at home! Why are you getting more???

Happy New Year, Marshie <3

[sapphire-to-the-rain]

ADAPTING THE PROMPT OF 6 MISSED CALLS FOR A MEDIEVAL SETTING. ANETRA’S FAMILIAR BEING A DUCK. I AM OBSESSED WITH YOUR MIND !!!!!

would u do either “calloused palm against soft cheek” or “six missed calls” for anarcia 🙏🙏 (OR BOTH?)

I've been thinking a LOT about this one anarcia fic I found on wattpad about princess Marcia and commoner Anetra in a medieval setting. So here's my little rendition of an Anarcia medieval au (with some alchemy/magic)

Marcia tightened the strings of her cloak as she stepped into the smelter's shop. She heard the fire from the smelter and a hammer hitting the iron into horseshoes. It was loud, dark, and smokey inside.

These men could care less that she was the princess from a far-off land set to marry their king. But she couldn't risk anyone seeing her.

Marcia walked up to the large man in the corner of the room, who sat at a desk with inventory scrolls. Before she said anything, the man looked up at her.

"She sent Georgie about six times yesterday, you know," He said as he continued writing.

Marcia nodded solemnly, remembering the duck following her through her line of ladies in waiting. She couldn't give the familiar any attention, the castle staff would start to question her.

"Can I see her?" she asked, looking where the door was supposed to be. To most, it was a plain black wall. But Marcia could see the faint silver outline of the door.

The section of the door turned sideways and a figure with long dark hair peaked out. "Thank you, Father. She can come in," Anetra said plainly as she returned to her chambers.

The wall turned back as Marcia stepped through. Georgie gave her some welcoming quacks from his small pool as she took off her cloak. She held it awkwardly as Anetra went back to her desk.

Marcia stepped quietly to see what Anetra was working on. There were glass beakers with different ingredients, some smoking and some freezing.

Anetra didn't look up from the mixtures, "The general store is out of flax flowers," She said as she stirred a blue liquid with a slight shimmer. "Can you help me?"

Anetra finally looked at her, her eyes slightly pleading. Marcia hadn't done much magic since moving into the castle. Only when others wouldn't notice, like perking up flowers or fixing a loose chair.

She had to be careful, this kingdom did not take to outsiders very well. Her old kingdom thrived on magic and alchemy, but they were small and poor. Her parents sending her off for marriage was their only option.

Marcia stared back at her, unsure what to do. She felt her magic weakening day by day, using it less.

"It's okay, this is a safe place," Anetra held Marcia's check in her hand, encouraging her. She felt the callous on Anetra's palm against her soft cheek but wanted to melt into the touch.

Marcia held out her hand and concentrated. It took a minute, but a small blue flower grew from her palm. She deeply missed practicing magic, reminding her of her home village and family.

Anetra kissed her cheek, "Thank you, my love," she said as she plucked the flower from her hand.

Marcia sat and watched Anetra work on the concoction. She mixed and stirred, eventually pouring the mixture into a glass bottle. It was a deep purple, with a slight yellow shimmer.

"Drink this," Anetra handed her the bottle, and Marcia gave her a puzzling look, "Trust me, it will help you," sincerely.

Marcia sipped on the liquid, but it tasted awful. She finished it with a soured face. Within a minute, she felt lighter and her soul felt brighter. It was like how she felt in her old kingdom when magic was in abundance and she could freely practice her craft.

Marcia smiled, "How long will this last?" she asked.

"Sasha said about half a moon cycle, at least," Anetra explained. She handed Marcia the letter from her friend who lived deep in the woods.

That would end right about the time of the wedding, seeming like it would give her enough time to plan an escape with Anetra. She knew Anetra hated this village, feeling like an outsider in her own birthplace.

Marcia heard the church bells outside, signaling it was the top of the hour, "I must be going, I'll come back after the Queen's tea tomorrow, I promise," She tied her cloak around her neck and searched for the door.

"Think about it, okay?" Anetra said as the wall turned. "We can be free together, in your home kingdom," she nearly pleaded.

Marcia looked across the shop, "But I promised my family..." she trailed off.

"They would hate to see you losing your magic," Anetra pointed out.

Marcia could not argue with that, knowing that was the truth, "I must be going, goodbye Anetra." she quickly moved through the shop as the wall turned back around.

But Marcia's head was filled with thoughts of her and her lover practicing their crafts freely, living in a place that would never shun them.

[scribblescrabbledepartment]

2 more illustrationsss idk if im really in love with them maybe ill redo them someday

[ID: two illustrations. the first shows two boys walking against the wind in a barren, snowy area. the second shows a creepy, grimy, decaying baby doll.]

story under cut (taken directly from a dream) (this one isnt really my best & it still needs some revising but what ever)

“Do we really have to go all the way out here?”

“Yeah, I wanna show you something.”

Two young boys of eight and ten trudged through a marsh-turned-tundra, one leading the other. The gray sky was difficult to differentiate from the gray ground, and despite the snow and ice covering the area, the land was still somehow spongy and muddy and threatened to pull away their snow boots with each slimy step. Their footsteps would have made a pretty unpleasant crunchy-squishing noise which might be compared to the sound of an enormous beetle being crushed as their boots broke through thin layers of ice and sunk into the marshy ground, but the wind was so eerily loud with its otherworldly howls and whistles that it drowned out nearly every other sound. The younger of the two boys, following behind his older brother, looked warily at the few trees and shrubs poking out of the miserable grayness and thought that they resembled monster skeletons, but would never express this out loud; his brother mustn’t get the idea that he was scared, even though his brother was a little scared himself.

“It’s up there,” the older boy called through the shrieks of the wind. They approached a strange little area which was partially shielded from the weather with monster skeleton trees. About ten feet from the trees was the edge of what couldn’t quite be described as water even during the warmest seasons. It was more like a muddy quicksandy sludge, now mixed with winter slush. Between the slushy sludge and the monster skeletons was a barren strip of land. A couple of objects lay partially covered in muck and snow on the ground.

“What is that?” The younger boy stuck close behind his brother, not feeling particularly fond of anything that was happening right now. His brother snapped a stick off of one of the shrubs and used it to haphazardly dust off the things on the ground—dolls. Two baby dolls that looked like antiques, one still a rosy peach color and in pretty good shape, the other appearing greenish and almost decayed.

“A kid at school told me about this place,” said the older boy, answering before his brother could ask. “Apparently people leave sacrifices for them. You know why?”

His younger brother shook his head. He didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. If they didn’t freeze to death out here, he was sure he’d have nightmares for a week just from the visual alone.

“They leave sacrifices because apparently they’re alive. They look pretty dead right now but when nobody’s around they get up and start walking and looking for something to kill, so people leave the sacrifices so they won’t go kill anybody.”

“That’s dumb,” the younger boy said in a voice that trembled much more than he would have liked it to. It was absolutely dumb and it creeped the hell out of him all the same.

“Yeah, it is,” the older boy admitted. “Still kinda neat though. They look really old. I bet they’ve been here for a hundred years.” Doing what, though? He pushed the thought out of his mind. He didn’t need his little brother thinking he was any kind of creeped out.

“Can we go now? This weather sucks,” the younger complained. His brother nodded and they turned around to leave. As they shuffled off, however, the younger boy lost his footing and tumbled over into the vast pond of sludge.

“God dammit,” he cried out in frustration. He knew his brother wouldn’t tell on him for swearing; they always cursed with each other when no adults (or tattle-tales) were around to hear. Grunting, he tried to push himself upright, but he found it very difficult to move in the thick liquid, and his heavy winter clothes didn’t help.

“Here, grab my hand,” the older brother called against the wind, reaching out. His brother somehow seemed much farther away from the edge of the land than he should have been. As he glanced at the ground to make sure he wasn’t stepping into the muck, he noticed that the more decayed-looking doll was missing.

“What the…” he murmured under his breath. He looked back up to his brother and felt his body go numb. On the horizon, moving closer, was what appeared to be a tiny figure.

“Come on, grab my hand!” He tried not to let his panic show as he leaned out over the edge of the pond, but something in his voice tipped his brother off. The younger boy turned his head and saw the doll swimming toward him, slowly but surely, and he began to scream. He screamed and reached as far as he could and tried to shuffle out of the sludge but it was much more difficult than it was getting in, and the doll grew closer. They could see its arms slowly going around like windmills in their creaky sockets in a very poor imitation of swimming and if it had been a scene from a movie they would have been laughing hysterically, but it wasn’t a movie and the movement somehow managed to push the doll with relative ease through the same almost-liquid that trapped the younger boy.

The two were becoming increasingly frantic as the younger brother struggled to free himself and the older boy briefly considered stepping in just a little bit to reach him, but then he surely would have wound up just as stuck as his brother and of no help to anybody. He stretched his arm out as far as he could, nearly falling into the pond as he reached, and as he finally brushed his brother’s fingertips he noticed that the doll had disappeared. And suddenly, so did his brother as something pulled him under at a terrifying speed, leaving the older boy standing stunned and alone in the desolate, miserable grayness.

[ask-lab-rats]

For any of the kids who want to answer: If it was up to you, would you change your name/title? What would you change it to? (It can be another object you like, a "real" name, a creature, whatever! No limits :)

"I would change it to like Bonnie or Bowie or uh.... idk? maybe I'll just keep Bow." - Bow

"Um Marshy? Marcy??" - Marshmallow

"I really like the name Libby it's very cute" - Lightbulb

"This is hard maybe Preston? I like that name." - Pickle

[fioreofthemarch]

yearnings

[✨ this was written for zelink week 2023 organised by @zelinkcommunity and is a companion piece to 'repast' and 'kin'] Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 1140

Despite all that time has taken from her, the Light Dragon can still recall names.

The skies in which she swims belong to Hyrule, and her sister dragons that she shares them with are Naydra, Farosh and Dinraal. Yet the Light Dragon no longer has a name, and her heart cries out in search of one — though she does not know why.

Each day at sunset, her sisters join her above the clouds. Sister, they say, come with us, to where the land meets the sky and where the mortal beings dwell. Each day, for many years, the Light Dragon cannot accept. She awaits another, one who will awaken on the Great Sky Island that she dutifully guards. This purpose, though its details are lost, burns within her.

When the swordsman finally awakens, the Light Dragon senses him immediately. She watches with muted curiosity as he begins to explore her island in the sky. Why had he come to this place? Were all the mortal beings so small? Soon she finds him on the ancient circular landing behind the island’s temple, and watches as the sword in his hand disappears in golden light. She is drawn to him then, called by a voice within: the swordsman must have a sword. Perhaps on the surface, where her sisters call to her, he will find another. Determined, the Light Dragon splits the clouds guarding the island from the world below. The swordsman does not wait; he leaps, surface bound. The Light Dragon follows.

The vast lands below swallow the swordsman whole. There are deep valleys that cut the earth and mountains that pierce the skies. There are churning rivers and yawning bays. There are open plains, marshy swamps, and rolling deserts. He must be out there, somewhere, and across all four corners of Hyrule the Light Dragon searches.

In winding canyons flooded with water, she meets her sister Farosh. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Farosh answers: None with valour and courage enough to impress me, sister.

Among rocky crags and cooled lava, in the shadow of a great volcano she meets her sister Dinraal. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Dinraal answers: Hyrule has seen many, sister, for blood flows here as easily as water flows to the sea.

Between gentle mountains, as snow feathers down, she meets her sister Naydra. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Naydra answers: Yes, he flies as we do, sister. I am sure he will visit you soon.

But he does not. The sorrow the Light Dragon feels at this is powerful and achingly fresh. Against her will, tears well in her eyes. She begs them not to fall; each time they do, they take more of her with them. She tries to hold on, and hold fast, but the tears fall anyway. The Light Dragon forgets why she was crying.

It is not long after this that he finds her. And it was as Naydra said; the swordsman could fly like the dragons, capturing the winds to soar through the sky. He lands softly on her back, his footsteps tickling, almost pleasant. Then he is holding onto her mane, holding very tight; is he worried he might fall? Then she can hear weeping. She hopes he is not unwell.

After some time, the swordsman speaks: “Is that really you, Zelda?”

She does not understand nor does she answer the question.

“Gods… you have the Master Sword. You’ve really had it all this time…”

Then he is moving, light feet padding about her mane. “Sorry, old girl, I’ve gotta take it from you.”

She is just thinking that she likes the gentle weight of him when a blinding pain rips through her head and down the length of her body. She lurches skyward, roaring, but the pain doesn’t stop, and it’s like something is tugging very hard on her head. It is not nice! Whatever it is should let go! It is her fur there! It keeps her warm! Let go! Let go!

The sky suddenly flashes white, and next she knows she is enveloped in clouds of shimmering gold. Calm washes through her and she relaxes, allowing herself to float. The swordsman is still there, murmuring: Hylia help me, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that’d hurt— Are you okay?

Yes, it is all going to be okay. She closes her eyes and recalls the final piece of her memories that had not yet slipped away; she has the sword, which she guarded much as she guarded her island in the sky. How this came to be, and why, is lost to her. But it is no matter. Her purpose is fulfilled. She is at peace.

After this, the swordsman visits her often. He brings her apples cooked in butter, which she eats even though she can’t really taste them, doing so because it seems to make him happy. Then he brings her flowers, threading them into her mane, which she likes for the soft pull of his fingers through her hair. Sometimes he comes to talk, telling stories of the surface, using words she doesn’t understand but enjoys for the sound of his voice. Sometimes he just comes to sit, clinging to her mane, always clinging.

Then, the last time he comes, she is sitting with him on top of the temple on the Great Sky Island, dozing. Her sisters have teased her for this. Sister beloved, what need does a dragon have for sleep? The swordsman sleeps, she has told them, and often sleeps for entire days. It seemed a pleasant activity to try, and she has found it helps her to enjoy the feeling of the sun on her back.

On this final day, she awakens to find the swordsman brushing her mane, running his hands through the strands.

“I have to go soon, Zelda,” he says. “I’ve stalled for a long time. I need to finish what you started.”

He has an apple in his hand, which she obligingly eats. “If I don’t come back, old girl, you know I love you, right? If there’s even a tiny bit of Zelda in there, I want her to know…”

Zelda. She yearns to understand this word. Is that a name? If it was, could it be hers? She does not know how to tell the swordsman this — that she can be his Zelda, if he wants. Instead she pushes her snout into his hand, nuzzling against him.

In response he wraps his arms around her, holding tight. At his back is a noble sword, in a scabbard of blue and gold. Then he lets go, runs a gentle hand across her fur one last time, and departs.

The Light Dragon Zelda returns to the sky, unmoved. He has left her before, and always returns.

Content to wait, she flies away free.

[marshmellowtea]

tbh i feel like it can be a little hard to get a grasp on certain characters in this fandom because of how differently they're portrayed in the play that goes wrong vs the specials vs the shows. like there's enough there that it's obviously the same character but there's also enough differences in personality traits and their relationships to other characters that sometimes it feels a bit hard to come up with a concrete idea of who they are ykwim

[spacechild-glitchypix]

A lot of people are making a lot of public statements considering this is a situation that has pretty much nothing to do with them.

Look, I'm usually one to be pretty civil on conversations like this in public because I generally feel like people are less likely to listen when you're angry and shouting but I'm also acutely aware that none of you are really paying any attention. You're glossing over statements, you're intentionally reading Rose's statements and apologies in bad faith. If you aren't going to have the good graces to truly listen to either Kab or Rose then, respectfully, back away. You're not contributing anything positive to the conversation, you're talking in circles about points already being addressed and claiming they aren't because the answer doesn't suit your narrative

You can think Rose's comments made in the privacy of his own server are unprofessional until the cows come home but, frankly, his professionalism isn't any of your concern unless you're employing him. And, as for the biphobia comments, I'll speak as someone who was literally in those discord screenshots.

The stuff said in Marshie's post is true but, on a larger scale, this was a common discussion in this server. It wasn't started by Rose, it certainly didn't end with Rose, this was an entire server of queer people who were just sick of the heteronormative way some people would develop their MCs. And if you took that as a personal attack then I apologise but I can't help you with your own feelings. We never expected this to reach public eyes, none of us would've actually said this to a person's face about their own MCs. We're not bullies, our words were posted in a public setting without our permission, the fact you people seemed to have missed that (or even claimed that we apparently weren't private enough because somehow we were supposed to just know one of our members was leaking screenshots of our conversations which is a stance I have seen at least one person take) is honestly very telling.

No one should be expected to be 100% polite or civil in their own spaces (this also includes Rose's blog, before one of you fires blossoming-attorney's post at me), we're allowed to have areas where we can speak our own grievance with friends and be hyperbolic without having to worry about people taking our works out of that space to be put completely on blast to the public. Have none of you people ever complained about a boss before???

But more importantly than that, I just think the level of tone-policing and dogpiling and harassment being leveled at one of my friends over a racist smear campaign is fucking appalling. I don't care if you do not think this is racist because race wasn't brought up, if this wasn't racism then why is Rose the only person you people have thought to go after. Why is he the only person that was named, why did no one try to find anyone else in those screenshots.

This fandom is, quite frankly, a racist cesspit, the people who started this harassment campaign by publiclly posting this bullshit on a throwaway reddit account are scum, the people who pushed it without any sort of critical thinking should be deeply ashamed of themselves and every major artist in the community making a statement as to their stance on this whole ordeal needs to back off

This community has destroyed an incredibly important space where me and many others made a number of good friends for nearly a year over the adrenaline rush of jumping on a bandwagon. You've hurt one of my good friends and tried to get him fired from his job to further a racist smear campaign because you didn't like that he's an outspoken black person.

I hope you're fucking proud of yourselves

[angelsgame-au]

How do you feel about Fanart?

(You can answer this in or out of character)

I love fanart!! Please send all the fanart 💜💜💜

- Marshie

[all-mighty-axle-arc]

Oh hello! Never expected to see you here marshmallow!

Wait how did sword lost his phone?

hEyYY feLLa, nICe to sEE yOu!! ReAL TiNY, AiNT YA?

DOnT WOrRy bOUt tHE pHOne, oR eVEn SWoRD hImSELf, rEaLLy. hE'LL gET hIS DEvICe bACk.

[arrowofcarnations]

Fic-O-Ween 2023 Day 1: First Frost

Happy fest, y’all! Here’s some Harvard-era FinnLo pining to ring in day one. Huge thank-yous to @lumosinlove for the Sweater Weather characters and universe and to @noots-fic-fests for organizing the fest!

Title: Love at First Fright Pairing: Finn O'Hara/Logan Tremblay Rating: G

“Trick or treat!”

Finn smiled at the ghost-witch-robot trio looking up at him and dropped three handfuls of candy into the plastic pumpkin pails they held up expectantly.

“Hey, nice costumes! Happy Halloween!”

The kids barely stood still long enough to say it back before they were taking off in the opposite direction of the frat house, eager to get back to their parents and hit up more treat stops around campus before dark. It was a good day for it; classic autumn in New England, from the crispness in the air to the red, brown and yellow leaves drifting down off the trees to cover the manicured grass in a vibrant seasonal blanket. Even the deep red of Harvard’s brick buildings seemed more beautiful in October, like they were meant to exist in a state of perpetual fall.

Throngs of local kids—and some of their parents—were all decked out in their Halloween best, while Finn and the rest of the OKN guys wore school-branded clothes while taking turns manning the candy-laden folding table outside the house between classes. (Finn wasn’t sure any of them owned a costume they could wear outside in broad daylight.) 

He laughed as Percy walked over, refill bag in hand, wearing the exact same gray sweatshirt with a crimson HARVARD across the chest as he was, the same black joggers—almost the same sneakers. “Fashion.”

Percy grinned back at him. “You know it, baby.” He turned the bag upside down, dumping the candy into any bowls that weren’t full and spilling some across the table as he went.

“Yo, you’re getting jolly ranchers all over the ground.”

“You’re a fuckin’ jolly rancher.”

“You’re a fuckin’ kit-kat.”

“You’re a—”

“Shut up, there’s kids,” Will warned, then passed some treats to a tiny ballerina with a kind smile and a compliment for her costume.

“Oh shit, my bad,” Percy said, and Finn snorted as Will cuffed him on the side of the head.

Finn unwrapped a watermelon jolly rancher and popped it into his mouth as he watched students and families pass by. Percy nudged him with an elbow, getting his attention. “Where’s Tremz? Thought you were surgically fused at this point.”

“Fu—” he cut off as Will leveled the captain stare at him. “Heck off. He’s in his medieval history class, he’ll be back soon.”

“Speak of the French-Canadian devil,” Percy shouted as Logan walked up the path to the house, backpack on his shoulders and snapback on his head—backwards, per usual. He looked good in the crimson Harvard Hockey hoodie he was wearing; Finn’s eyes caught the fraying at the cuffs and his stomach swooped as he realized it was his, that Logan must’ve swiped it this morning before heading out. 

“Bonjour,” Logan said, oblivious to the state of Finn’s internal organs.

“Bone-joor,” Percy replied before Finn could say it. “Very French of you. And shorts in October. Very Canadian of you.”

“We haven’t even had first frost yet.” Logan looked from Percy to Finn. “How much candy did you let him eat?”

“Too much,” Will answered for him. “Don’t you have class next, Marshy?”

After a complicated handshake with Finn that neared 15 seconds long, Percy grabbed his bag and took off at a slow jog. Finn wasn’t happy that he left, exactly, but he was happy that Logan walked around the table to take his spot right beside him.

“How’s that black plague treatin’ ya?” he asked as Logan slid his backpack off and under the table.

Logan’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Better than it’s treating medieval Europeans. But the reading is a little…”

He looked away—embarrassed, maybe, or frustrated. Finn knew he hated that English still tripped him up sometimes, though the amount he’d improved in just a few semesters was damn impressive. Finn kicked his shin lightly. “I got you. Would’ve flunked out last spring if it weren’t for you, so. Bring on the plagues.”

Logan kicked him back and sent him a grateful smile. And just because he couldn’t help it, Finn plucked at the sleeve of his hoodie. “Nice sweatshirt.”

“You left it on my chair,” Logan said, but Finn saw a little bit of color in his cheeks that he was pretty sure the afternoon chill didn’t put there.

It was a shoddy excuse, but so was Finn teasing him about it being “a little tight in the shoulders, Tremz, you gym beast” just so he could put a hand on one of those broad shoulders and squeeze. Logan was warm and so solid even through the layers; his hand lingered just a second too long before he let it fall away.

The next half hour passed quickly as trick-or-treaters came and went. The sun had just started to sink lower in the sky when a girl who couldn’t have been older than five or six walked up to the table, her guardian hanging back a ways. She had a hockey jersey on and was carrying her helmet, probably tired of wearing it around. 

She was closing in on Logan, who’d ended up on the opposite end of the long folding table as Finn at some point, when the big animatronic ghoul in front of the porch lurched and let out its tinny scream. The girl jumped, looking terrified, and tears filled her wide brown eyes.

“Oh,” Finn heard Logan say softly; his brow was knitted with concern as he walked quickly out from behind the table and crouched down in front of her. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

The girl didn’t say anything, just turned to look at her adult and then back at Logan. It seemed like she was trying not to run away.

Logan nodded at her jersey. “You play hockey?”

She nodded.

“Me too. All these guys are on my team. What’s your favorite position to play?”

That drew her out of her shell. “Goalie,” she said with a quiet confidence as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I see. You know what I know about goalies?” The girl shook her head, but clearly looked interested at whatever Logan was about to say. He leaned in like he was telling a secret, then said, “They’re the bravest ones. Also the craziest.”

Finn’s chest warmed at the way she laughed, at how Logan had gotten her from near-tears to happy and chatting in no time at all. He never got to see Logan with little kids; all their siblings were older. It was nice. It was sweet. It was doing things to Finn’s heart that he’d rather not think about.

In the end, the little girl—Harper, she told Logan as he filled her candy pail until it was overflowing, then filled her helmet, too—skipped away in a great mood. Logan was still smiling a little after they’d gone as Finn walked over to him.

“She was cute.”

Logan nodded. “Ouais.”

“You, too.” It was out of his mouth before he could shove it back in. Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “You were cute with her,” he explained—not that that really made it better.

But Logan looked pleased that he’d said so, even as he shrugged. “It’s not hard when they’re adorable. She said she’s a goalie.”

“Oh, so the skeleton thing should’ve been afraid of her.”

Logan laughed. “That’s kind of what I told her.”

Finn wanted to say so much. You’re cute all the time. You should only wear my hoodies. You’ll make a great dad someday. I want to share that someday with you.

Instead, he took Logan’s hat off and ruffled his hair. “Dinner?” he asked. “Burgers? Hog’s Head?”

Logan took his hat back and put it back on, but he wasn’t even pretending to be annoyed. “Ouais, let’s go now before they make us clean up.”

As they snuck off behind the house toward the pub, Finn took a handful of cherry jolly ranchers out of his pocket and put them in Logan’s. Logan laughed, then did the same for Finn with the watermelon ones. 

“Happy Halloween, Tremz.”

“Happy Halloween, Harzy.”